Tag / selkie

by booksoverlookedblog

FFM 18: The Queen and the Seal Lord, Pt. 3

Any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. I do not consent to this work being summarized or fed to generative AI, and anyone who does so is a big dweeb.

July is Flash Fiction Month! I’ll be sharing short short stories here through the month of July. This is the final part of “The Queen and the Seal Lord” which was really only supposed to be one story but I got carried away. I also know that the description of Raghnall should have come sooner in the story, but between the first story and this one I decided that selkies have dad bod and I needed to include it.

Part 1
Part 2

Raghnall ducked his head under the waves. He was still trapped in human for, his knees weak, stomach roiling. He trembled, but that had nothing to do with the ocean’s chill. His seal coat was moving further inland, carried by someone with intent to do him harm. And he was forced to rely on Queen Gráinne — the same queen that just slapped him for insubordination — to return it.

A small pod of Raghnall’s trusted companions encircled him. Two were in seal form, swimming around him. The third stood on two legs, holding a net and trident and standing alert.

Réalta should have been among them. Her death was too recent to inspire grief in the selkie pod, only anger. If Raghnall survived this, he would see Réalta’s killers flayed.

Raghnall poked his head out from the water and breathed out a sigh. The shaking in his slightly webbed fingers stopped. Gráinne had his seal coat, and she was bringing it to him.

As soon as the queen arrived on the shore, her mount dark with sweat, she ran towards the sea. The selkies let her pass. Wordlessly, Gráinne held the seal coat out to Raghnall.

He donned it quickly, human feet becoming fins once more. He barked once, then dove into the ocean. The pod followed him.

A week later, Gráinne received a request for an audience. “He’s here now, my queen,” the courier said, almost apologetically. Few would be so bold to just assume the queen had the time or inclination to meet with them.

“Is he dressed?” Gráinne asked.

The courier’s pale cheeks turned pink. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Send him in.”

As a seal, Raghnall was svelte and strong; as a man, the extra blubber from his seal form settled on his limbs and torso. His whiskers had become a Van Dyke mustache and beard, which Gráinne felt rather suited him. He wore black trousers that had been patched multiple times, an open-breasted red shirt that popped against his gray skin, and a long, dark coat. At the collar was a with an embossed elk antler, marking him as a privateer.

“Hardly a suitable wardrobe to meet the queen in, but at least you have one this time,” Gráinne remarked. She stood up from her writing desk to greet him.

Raghnall bowed at the waist. “Was that a joke, Your Majesty?”

“They’ve been known to happen,” Gráinne replied once he’d straightened.

“I’m afraid at our last meeting I wasn’t thinking clearly. But I bring you thanks from Réalta’s family for returning her coat to them.” Raghnall reached into his pocket and produced two pink studs, shined to a polish: coral earrings. “They asked me to give you these.”

“Thank you.” Gráinne gingerly took the earrings from his hand. Most selkies owned few things, but loved what they had fiercely. “Please tell her family I will treasure them.” She replaced her carved bone earrings with the coral. “From what I knew of her, Réalta was clever and strong.”

“I couldn’t have asked for a better first mate.” Raghnall cleared his throat to keep tears from his voice. “I’d like to apologize to you as well, Ma’am.”

The notion of Raghnall apologizing for anything was so unexpected, Gráinne had to clap her hand over her mouth to stifle a burst of laughter. “Raghnall. You’ve sunk my ships. Raided my shores. I nearly hanged you once.”

Raghnall rubbed at his throat. “‘Nearly’ is the operative word.”

“And never once did you apologize for piracy. So what did you do that was so egregious to warrant one now?”

Raghnall looked away from her, and Gráinne realized that he was trying to hide his embarrassment. Until now, she wasn’t sure he’d even been capable of that particular emotion. “You retrieved my coat without hesitation, even after I blatantly disrespected you. Once I had it back, I did not even thank you.”

Gráinne shrugged a shoulder. “You’ve disrespected me for years. I wasn’t going to let you die out of spite.”

“Except for all the times you actually did try to kill me.”

“That’s different.” Gráinne actually smiled. Her royal duties kept her on land now, but Gráinne remembered her days fostered at sea as some of the best of her life. “The one time I did manage to arrest you—”

“And nearly hang me,” Raghnall added, unhelpfully.

“I decided to keep you instead.”

The seal lord blinked his inky eyes several times. “What am I supposed make of that?”

Gráinne thought a moment. “That our discussion about Hy-Brasil and your kin crossing the barrier is not finished, I suppose. And that at our next meeting, I expect you clothed.”

by booksoverlookedblog

FFM 14: The Queen and The Seal Lord, Pt. 2



Any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. I do not consent to this work being summarized or fed to generative AI, and anyone who does so is a big dweeb.

July is Flash Fiction Month! I’ll be sharing short short stories here through the month of July. This part 2 for The Queen and the Seal Lord. I really thought that part 2 would be the end of it, but this is at 999 words already, and I want to give this story a proper conclusion. Which means that there will be a part 3 at some point. Whoops.

Gráinne felt it only a moment after Raghnall heard it. Intruders on a navy ship. She was on her feet at once, cutting through the peace ties on her sword with a letter-opener from her desk. “Raghnall, see to your crew. And for fuck’s sake, get some trousers on.”

Raghnall had checked his weapons with his Réalta, his first mate, as was protocol. He dashed toward the cabin door, Gráinne just footsteps behind. The selkie froze mid-stride and let out a noise somewhere between a yelp and a gasp. He staggered where he stood, then gripped the wall for support. “Someone has my coat.”

Not just someone. A selkie and his seal coat parted at great risk. There were few he would have given it to willingly. Raghnall’s sudden weakness — his stooped posture, knees trembling — came from someone with ill-intent handling his coat.

“Stay here,” Gráinne demanded and shouldered past him. Just past the door to the captain’s quarters, Gráinne saw Réalta dead. The deep puncture wound at the base of her skull told Gráinne that the seal maiden had no chance to fight back. Whoever had done this had chosen stealth, not brute force.

Gráinne spun at the sound of uneven steps behind her, but it was only Raghnall, who by now had availed himself of a spare cloak, which was tied around his waist. His already ashen skin was growing lighter and lighter. “Is Réalta…”

“I’m sorry.” And Gráinne was. For all her differences with Raghnall, she had always liked his first mate.

“They’re taking the coat inland,” Raghnall said. His voice did not hold the rich timbre that Gráinne liked, one of waves lapping at the shore. He collected his weapons from Réalta, a trident and net, and short club that he normally wore on a belt. “If they bury it—”

“I know.” Disgust filled Gráinne. It was one of the unspoken laws of Fae war. Stealing a selkie’s coat was an unforgivable act. If it were to be buried under a black oak tree overnight, Raghnall would die. “Stay here,” she said again.

Raghnall bared his teeth. “It’s my coat.”

“And you’re in no shape to go after it,” Gráinne snapped back. “Stay in the water. It’ll help. I’ll be back before nightfall.” Before Raghnall could object, she threw herself overboard. Docked in the harbor, the ship wasn’t in deep water. Gráinne moved through it was ease, as though she were walking on dry land. When she reached the shore, she placed her bare palms on the ground, closed her eyes, and felt.

The land was part of her, and she was part of it. It couldn’t tell her who had stolen Raghnall’s coat, but she could feel the wrongness of someone, speeding away from the harbor. She sensed the person’s direction, and the vile tang of retribution they carried with them. This creature was moving at full speed, but not fast enough to avoid being overtaken by Gráinne.

She whistled for her horse, a silver dappled courser, who trotted out to the queen. Gráinne mounted easily, not bothering to saddle the mare. They understood each other, in the same way that the sea offered her only passing resistance and the land told her the direction of her quarry. They raced across the sand, following the thief.

The tracks told Gráinne the thief was traveling on a wild boar. Fierce, nasty creatures that rarely tolerated riders. That narrowed the possibilities of her quarry down some: Fir Bolg, true Orc, or Fomorian. Gráinne’s parents had established an uneasy truce with the Fir Bolg some decades before, and Orcs had no use for stealth. Fomorians were sea raiders, and had never entered into a treaty with the crown.

Finally, Gráinne spotted the boar and its rider. Fomorian, just as she had feared. Gráinne spurred her mare forward. She wouldn’t cut off the Fomorian’s path if she had another option. Her mount had been trained for combat, but she didn’t want it going against the boar’s deadly tusks. Instead, she took the sling that she carried on her belt and loaded a stone into it. The first shot missed her target completely. The second bashed the Fomorian in the back of the head.

The Fomorian lurched forward with shock, then wheeled their boar around to face Gráinne. It was a misshapen humanoid, muscles bulging in strange places and limbs with extra joints. It held a pike in gray-green fingers. Thin, yellow hair covered not just its head, but its entire face. It wore a fur coat spotted with gray and brown; Gráinne instantly recognized it as seal skin. Not selkie, but the selkies considered the animals their cousins. Raghnall would’ve had the Fomorian’s head for that.

Under its arm was Raghnall’s coat.

No Fomorian could resist a challenge by the Tuatha Dé Danann, even a half-human one. It dug its spiked heels into the boar’s side, and charged.

Gráinne found herself wishing for her glaive. She shifted to dismount, but as soon as she did, her courser ran at the boar. Gráinne called out for the horse to retreat, but the mare refused. Instead, she kicked up her powerful back legs, knocking the Fomorian out of its rope saddle. Without its rider, the boar abruptly changed course. It was distracted for now, and Gráinne hoped it would give in to its fatigue soon.

She sprang from her mount, sword in hand, and ran at the unseated Fomorian. It jabbed at her with its pike. Gráinne ducked replied with a kick to its stomach, throwing it off balance. She whirled and smashed the hilt of her sword on the side of its head, stunning the foul thing. Then, she took its head. It was a kinder death than Raghnall had given it.

She took his seal coat and tied it around her waist for safe keeping. Her mare was still standing alert, watching the boar trot away. Gráinne mounted her horse, and turned seaward. “Hold on, Raghnall. I’m coming.”

by booksoverlookedblog

FFM 8: The Queen and the Seal Lord

Any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. I do not consent to this work being summarized or fed to generative AI, and anyone who does so is a big dweeb.

July is Flash Fiction Month! I’ll be sharing short short stories here through the month of July. I had to miss a few days due to real-life stuff, but I’m hoping to catch up! Gráinne and Raghnall are both characters in the novel I’m writing. She’s made a few appearances in last year’s FFM. I had intended for this story to be a bit more action-focused, but I enjoyed exploring more of the world and the politics of it. So it’s a two-parter now.

I was inspired to write about my selkie character after reading AmehanaRainStarDrago’s story about her selkie character on deviantArt! Read it here: Interrupted Sleep

When Gráinne had been at sea, Marcaíocht Conán was the only pirate ship she couldn’t capture. After becoming queen, she had done the only thing she could to neutralize the ship and its selkie captain. In a blow to both her pride and her obstinacny, Captain Raghnall and his crew became privateers. Politically, it was a wise move. While the selkies fell under the purview of Gráinne’s crown, they had always held their own shores and culture apart from the rest of Tír na nÓg. The selkies were a nation within a nation, with Raghnall now serving as seal lord.

Personally, Gráinne thought that Raghnall had made it his life’s mission to vex her. And it was working.

It was difficult enough to find a neutral meeting ground for them. The castle put Gráinne at an advantage, and Raghnall refused to meet her there. The sea was Raghnall’s domain, and Gráinne refused to meet him there. Their compromise was a naval ship docked in one of the permanent harbors.

Raghnall, as usual, came to the meeting naked. He left his seal skin with his first mate, and refused to don humanoid clothing. Gráinne knew that he was hoping to prey on the prudishness of her human side. That tactic had never worked, and she was, frankly, tired of it.

Her brother’s suggestion that she go to the meeting naked to turn the tables on Raghnall had been soundly ignored.

The queen and seal lord sat in the captain’s quarters. “You’re not chilly?” Gráinne asked after the proper greetings had been exchanged.

“No.”

“There’s evidence to suggest otherwise.”

Raghnall remained nonplussed. “The bipedal body is hardly perfect. I’m sure you understand that well. To what do I owe the honor of this meeting?”

“I need to speak first to Captain Raghnall, then the seal lord.” Gráinne unrolled the most recent sea charts the navy had provided her. “The vortices in the northeast. You’ve gotten closer to them than any other ship has dared.”

“Better,” Raghnall said with a cocky tilt of his head. “I’ve swum among them.”

Despite his often infuriating nature, it was moments like this that assured Gráinne she had made the correct choice in making Raghnall a privateer. Any sailor with his audacity was a valuable asset, especially now. “And?”

He nodded once, saying the words that so many others were afraid to speak. “Hy-Brasil is returning. Not immediately, we both know that these things take time. But we have years. Maybe a decade; I doubt two.”

Gráinne realized she was clenching her fists. She forced herself to uncurl her fingers. Even among Fae, Hy-Brasil was legendary. It appeared and disappeared with seemingly no rhyme or reason, but it was well known that the island’s reappearance signaled great change, often for both the magical and mortal realms. “We have years to prepare, but prepare for what?” She said under her breath.

“If you figure it out, let me know,” Raghnall said. “Anything else for the captain?”

“What supplies do you need? Other than trousers.”

Raghnall’s thin mustache twitched with a smile. She wasn’t asking just about restocking food or repairing weapons. After news like this, the queen was letting Raghnall name his reward.

“There’s a very lovely figurehead on this ship. I believe it allows the ship to camouflage?” When Gráinne confirmed this, Raghnall nodded. “Something like that. It doesn’t need to be an octopus, though.”

“Octopus, squid, or cuttlefish are your choices,” Gráinne said, marking his request down. “It will take a few months to make.”

Raghnall considered his options for a moment. “Fine, cuttlefish.”

“And now, the seal lord.”

Raghnall bowed at the shoulders. “At your service, my queen.”

Gráinne rolled up her sea charts and crossed her arms, frowning. “Explain why there were four sightings of selkies in the Irish Sea last month.”

Raghnall rolled shoulders easily. “You know pups. Sometimes they cross the barrier unknowingly.”

“Pups do, yes, and I’ve always granted them leniency. I’m talking about adult selkies, fully in control of themselves and aware of the law.” Gráinne pressed her lips together tightly.

“Drink?” Raghnall suggested mildly. “We enjoy shore leave, same as you.”

“Shore leave that fuels the black market? Whenever selkies are spotted in the mortal realm, suddenly human goods are readily available.” Gráinne narrowed her eyes. “You know how much damage that kind of smuggling has brought here. End it.”

Raghnall’s nose twitched — a hint of irritation. “Are you responsible for the actions of all your people?”

“I am responsible for keeping them safe.” She jabbed her finger down hard on the table. “End it.”

Raghnall leaned forward, lips curling upward to reveal inhumanly sharp teeth. “The selkies are not subject to your barrier laws, gestalt.”

She struck him with the back of her hand. The word was not an insult, only a reminder of Gráinne’s mixed heritage. She would not have it used against her. “The selkies are subject to Tír na nÓg, and I speak for Tír na nÓg. You may not like it, but you know it’s true. End it.”

A low growl rose in Raghnall’s throat. He held a slightly webbed hand to his cheek where he had been struck. “As my queen—” he stopped mid-sentence, liquid dark eyes growing wider. “Someone’s on board. Someone who’s not supposed to be.”