Short Story: your beginning


 * Author: Jamie
 * Google Document

your beginning.

i. you were born during a storm. it&rsquo;s said that, on that night, the seas were so choppy, so dark, so merciless that the entire empire hid itself away, its inhabitants numb with fear. the surfacers&rsquo; ships were tossed here and there like little bits of driftwood caught in the waves. some were even taken under by the sea itself; its passengers fates unknown, yet bleak - after all, most surfacers are unable to breathe underwater like you and your people. ( years later, you would find a morbid delight in exploring their fallen vessels .) as so many others breathed their last, you breathed your very first. none were permitted to leave the castle for fear of lives being lost - be it to frenzied aquatic creatures, whirlpools or fallen debris. naturally, you don&rsquo;t remember any of it. you were a newborn. but you&rsquo;ve been told that your mother held you tightly for hours and hours - your tiny body wrapped up in blankets woven from fine seagrass as you both sat in the throne room of your family&rsquo;s castle. the bards sing songs about that night. they sing songs about you: reides aurelian yon-zinthos kien-khavas laverath. the little prince who was born when laverathia thought it would never again see sunlight filtering down from above the waters. you became a symbol of hope. of perseverance. of fortitude. but you were just a baby. ii. your mother&rsquo;s name is arlyn, and she is kind and beautiful and very much like one of those nice queens you read about in the storybooks. she wears flowing dresses made of colourful sea-plants and jewelry made of sparkling shells. everyone loves her. but she wasn&rsquo;t always an empress. she once gathered clams and oysters and mussels for everyone to eat. then she fell in love with your father, and he fell in love with her. she still sometimes gets oysters for you - cracking open their shells with gentle hands. you&rsquo;re not sure when she started drifting away from you, but you suspect that it&rsquo;s probably your own fault. she still smiles when she catches you creeping into the castle when you&rsquo;re supposed to be tucked away in bed, sleeping - so things can&rsquo;t be all that bad. iii. you have an older brother. his name is viglis, and he always wears elaborate shell armor that&rsquo;s far too big for him. when you were little, he tried to teach you how to use a sword - but the blade was bigger and heavier than you were, so it didn&rsquo;t work out at all. and the shield was even worse. it&rsquo;s been years since then, but you suspect he&rsquo;s still angry about it. in fact, he gets angry at you often. you can&rsquo;t swim as fast as him. you don&rsquo;t like what he likes. your head is filled with made-up things. but when other nobles whisper and gossip about you, he&rsquo;s always the first to come to your defense. you have a younger brother, too. dhudus never seemed all that fond of you. as a baby, he pulled your hair and tore your books. he became very good with the sword that you couldn&rsquo;t even hold up and viglis started spending a lot of time with him. you were secretly grateful for this because it gave you more time to explore on your own. even now, you don&rsquo;t talk to dhudus all that much. every time he looks at you there is a distinct disinterest in his eyes. you take no offense to this because the sentiment is mutual. persana eventually conferred a blessing unto you: a younger sister. lotlyn was soft and sweet from the day she was born. she&rsquo;d curl up next to you and nap for hours at a time. she makes you necklaces and ties colourful strings of pearls into your hair. you leap at every chance to protect her, to teach her. together, you&rsquo;d write stories and sing songs. her mind reminds you of your mind. you&rsquo;re not sure if this is something to be proud about or something to be concerned over, but you adore her all the same. she is the long-awaited princess of the empire and a better symbol of hope than you ever will be. <p style="text-align: center;">iv. <p style="text-align: justify;">the head of the royal laverath family. the emperor. your father. khavas. he hardly ever smiles and is always busy, but the people consider him honest and just, so he must be good. he knows you love to read and always gives you books about your ancestors. from thick volumes recounting laverathia&rsquo;s golden ages to first-hand accounts of great, gorey battles - the tales seem endless, and you enjoy them. you always have. you can recite a number of them from memory alone. <p style="text-align: justify;">but your father is very particular. he doesn&rsquo;t want you to wander about. doesn&rsquo;t want you to write stupid things. doesn&rsquo;t want you to ask so many questions. he wants you to be a warrior. wants you to be steady. wants you to be strong. <p style="text-align: justify;">the problem is that you don&rsquo;t want to be any of those things. <p style="text-align: justify;">and while you love the stories about your family, the world out there is so much bigger than any of you will ever be. <p style="text-align: center;">v. <p style="text-align: justify;">you aren&rsquo;t sure when you became the way that you are. it feels like you were always like this - it&rsquo;s just the people around you took a long time to notice it. the ocean is so big; how could you possibly leave it unexplored? at times, you feel as if the walls of the castle are closing in on you. as if the water is stagnant around you; so stagnant that you can&rsquo;t breathe. like a shark, you have to keep moving. <p style="text-align: justify;">and so, you move. <p style="text-align: justify;">you began sneaking out of the castle when you were young - far before lotlyn was born. it was an exciting routine; concealing yourself in inexpensive clothes and heading out when the waters grew dark. sometimes, the guards caught you. sometimes, your family caught you. <p style="text-align: justify;">still, you never stopped. after all - sometimes, no one caught you. <p style="text-align: justify;">in those instances, it was just you and an endless expanse of sea. you&rsquo;d befriend creatures and explore undersea caverns. you&rsquo;d scavenge shipwrecks for treasure and collect bits and pieces of the surface world. you&rsquo;d get into trouble with monsters and have to fend them off, all on your own. <p style="text-align: justify;">you always knew that you were no good with dhudus&rsquo; sword, or viglis&rsquo; shield. your mind is far sharper and more useful than any weapon would ever be. you find old scrolls tucked away in the library&rsquo;s archives and begin learning spells - simple ones, more to ward off danger than do any serious harm to your opponents. you learn how to make ice manifest from your fingertips; how to make a shining light appear in the darkness; how to create illusions to disorient and confuse. you learn how to protect yourself, and you keep your capabilities secret. you don&rsquo;t want a teacher. don&rsquo;t want more rules and regulations to follow. <p style="text-align: justify;">no, your magic is yours and yours alone. your spells set you free. <p style="text-align: center;">vi. <p style="text-align: justify;">one time, you swim far out. too far out. <p style="text-align: justify;">laverathia&rsquo;s waters are far behind you. it&rsquo;s fine, though. you&rsquo;re an adult and capable of taking care of yourself. you also aren&rsquo;t lost; simply curious. your heart pounds in your chest - with worry or excitement, you aren&rsquo;t entirely sure. a voice in your head whispers: turn back. another voice: press onward. <p style="text-align: justify;">it isn&rsquo;t a difficult decision to make. <p style="text-align: justify;">you keep going until you see a ship. this one isn&rsquo;t moving. it&rsquo;s entirely still. ships are never still over laverathia - probably because your people don&rsquo;t like them to be. <p style="text-align: justify;">it takes a while but you manage to swim up to it, pressing one of your hands against it. naturally, your people are told to never do this. never touch the ships, never touch the shiny hooks, never talk to the surfacers, never, never, never. <p style="text-align: justify;">and yet you have a thought. <p style="text-align: justify;">slowly, you edge up to the water&rsquo;s end, sticking your face out of the sea&rsquo;s depths. the surface-air crashes into you - seeps inside of you - and feels all too warm, all too thick. ( it&rsquo;s suffocating. it burns. ) when you open your eyes ( when did you close them? ) you&rsquo;re all too close to the sky, all too close to the stars. the light of the moon is unfiltered and full and shines down on you, and as you reach out to it, you&rsquo;re baffled as to why you can&rsquo;t swim your way up there. the confusion morphs into fear, and you duck beneath the waves, shaking; disoriented and disturbed. <p style="text-align: justify;">but you do not swim away. <p style="text-align: justify;">you hear laughter - laughter from that world beyond your own. you wonder - is someone laughing at you? indignant, you swim to the surface once more, bracing yourself for the same surge of distress. it&rsquo;s easier the second time around, perhaps because you know what to expect. you know that the air burns. that the skies hold you down. <p style="text-align: justify;">the laughter doesn&rsquo;t stop, and you soon realize that it isn&rsquo;t directed towards you. <p style="text-align: justify;">you see the people on the ship. they&rsquo;re all surface-dwellers: strange, gilless people, of all sorts of different sizes. and those people are talking. <p style="text-align: justify;">they talk about so many things. they talk about their big haul of fish, and how well they&rsquo;ll be paid. about having a close brush with danger (it was deserved, you believe - one should never encroach on sea beasts&rsquo; territory) and the heroic exploits that followed in dealing with said danger. one talks about a port, and you recognize the word as the place where multitudes of ships dock. <p style="text-align: justify;">the thought of so many surface-dwellers existing in one space astounds you. they&rsquo;re all so different from the people in laverathia... the clothes they wear are downright strange. each member of this ship&rsquo;s crew is holding onto a bottle, and you wish you could have one, too: the bottles you scavenge from the shipwrecks are all chipped up and in pieces. they occasionally bring those bottles to their lips, and you realize that they must be drinking. how must the contents of those bottles taste? you wish you could know. <p style="text-align: justify;">for a moment, you think of asking. of calling out to them. but simply observing these people - breathing their air - is taking all of the courage which your heart can possibly muster. <p style="text-align: justify;">so you continue to listen to them, quiet from your spot amongst the waves. you listen to them laugh, listen to them complain, listen to them sing sea shanties and listen to them talk about their plans for tomorrow. <p style="text-align: justify;">and as you look up into the sky above you, you realize that you&rsquo;ve never felt quite so small. the ocean is so very vast - and yet, somehow, it isn&rsquo;t all there is. no, the surface&hellip; that place is vast, too. maybe even more vast than the ocean itself. you can&rsquo;t really say. <p style="text-align: justify;">this knowledge sends you into a sort of daze. it makes everything around you seem like a dream. <p style="text-align: justify;">it&rsquo;s a dream you&rsquo;re content to stay in, until you see one of the surface-dwellers peer over the side of their ship. they point out into the sea and exclaim, in a slurred voice: <p style="text-align: justify;"> &ldquo;oy - what is that?!&rdquo; <p style="text-align: justify;">(it&rsquo;s you.) <p style="text-align: justify;">you duck back under the waves, swimming away as quickly as you can. you&rsquo;re not sure how much time has passed before you stop, but you do, eventually. you stop and turn around. that ship and the strange, gilless people are far above you, now, and the vibrance of their sky is shielded away from you by the sea. <p style="text-align: justify;">you smile as you set off for home. <p style="text-align: center;">vii. <p style="text-align: justify;">you were interested in the surface before but that encounter changed everything. what was once a passing interest - a daring curiosity born out of the dregs of childish rebellion - transformed into something more akin to an obsession. <p style="text-align: justify;">you scour books in the library for the slightest mention of the world above yours, making note of even the smallest of details. most of what you learn is from your people&rsquo;s point of view but sometimes you&rsquo;re lucky enough to find transcribed works. if only the surfacers&rsquo; books didn&rsquo;t get reduced to soggy messes upon being submerged in the ocean! their ink bleeds and blends, and you end up dreaming of what they once said. <p style="text-align: justify;">you spend years learning about their history. learning about their lands. learning about their languages and learning about their creatures. your treasures from shipwrecks become objects of study - you list what functions certain items may have and try to gauge how useful they may be for those who live on the surface. you wonder what they must think of your people&hellip; if they even know that your people exist beyond myths and legends and sailors&rsquo; superstitions. most of the tritons seem to observe the surfacers from a wary distance, shrouded behind a curtain as to protect themselves. to you, tearing down that curtain is a worthy goal. <p style="text-align: justify;">lotyln is the only person who understands - who shares - your enthusiasm. you&rsquo;re happy to give her some of your scavenged treasures. to read stories to her and to talk about the world beyond laverathia. <p style="text-align: justify;">otherwise, you gain a reputation for your eccentricities. most react with indifference; passing it off as a strange quirk held by an equally strange prince. others try to stop you. <p style="text-align: justify;">in fact, your older brother seems to take the most issue with it. viglis develops a habit of riding out at night, looking for you as to drag you back home. in turn, you become quite skillful at picking up the sound of his hippocampus&rsquo; fins tearing through the waters in search for you. he tells you that your father will not stand for this. but you are not the heir to the empire. why should he care? <p style="text-align: justify;">you voice this to your brother and he looks at you as if you slapped him. <p style="text-align: justify;">&ldquo; if you care about the bloody surfacers so much, why don&rsquo;t you just leave us for them?! &rdquo; he snaps, and you know that his words are meant to sting. <p style="text-align: justify;">what surprises you is that they do not. <p style="text-align: center;">viii. <p style="text-align: justify;">as you step into the throne room for an audience with your father, you are calm. <p style="text-align: justify;">your voice does not shake when you tell him your desire: to leave the laverathian empire as to explore the surface world. you wish to be some sort of ambassador - to improve relations between the surfacers and your people. you expect to be met with a degree of scorn. to be granted a strict schedule of visits to adhere to and to be told to be on your way. <p style="text-align: justify;">instead, you are met with rage. <p style="text-align: justify;">you feel as if the entire empire can hear his yells. you are accused of betraying your people. you are accused of treason. you&rsquo;ve never seen your father so angry. it&rsquo;s as if years and years of fury have suddenly been unleashed upon you, all at once. you should shrink upon seeing him. upon hearing him. <p style="text-align: justify;">but instead, you grow defiant. you say that some triton scholars from these waters have journeyed to the surface, albeit in the past. you tell him that aquos&rsquo; very library holds books regarding what they studied - the last remaining relics of their knowledge. you deem the notion of treason as ridiculous and hyperbolic. you call this isolation foolish. <p style="text-align: justify;">perhaps it is all a mistake, as it also tells your father that you do not fear him. <p style="text-align: justify;">you can almost tell the exact moment he makes up his mind. you see it in the way his eyes darken, and in the way he grips the armrest of his throne - so tightly that his knuckles turn white. <p style="text-align: justify;">it&rsquo;s hard to believe that this room once kept you safe from a raging storm. <p style="text-align: justify;">you are dragged out of it by guards; the very same guards you once took delight in sneaking past as a child. they do not listen to your protests - do not listen to your pleas. you call out for your mother, your brothers, your sister - but none of them hear you. <p style="text-align: justify;">you are taken to one of the castle&rsquo;s towers and locked within. while it&rsquo;s furnished opulently, it&rsquo;s hidden away. thick sea glass and impenetrable stone walls separate you from the outside. it&rsquo;s not a normal room. <p style="text-align: justify;">you&rsquo;re told that you will be freed once you calm down. once you become the prince you are meant to be. <p style="text-align: justify;">the revelation puts a knot in your stomach. <p style="text-align: justify;">that day will never come. <p style="text-align: center;">ix. <p style="text-align: justify;">and so a prince becomes a prisoner. <p style="text-align: justify;">you don&rsquo;t know what the official explanation for your disappearance is. perhaps there isn&rsquo;t one. <p style="text-align: justify;">at first, you try to get out. you spend hours banging your fists against the door. you call for help until your throat goes raw; until you lose your voice entirely. days pass and you don&rsquo;t bother to count them. you feel your mind&rsquo;s edge begin to dull. <p style="text-align: justify;">the emperor wants to dampen your passion. to stifle your spirit. you don&rsquo;t want him to succeed. you know you&rsquo;ve been foolish. impulsive and naive and blissfully unaware of the power that he wields. <p style="text-align: justify;">you try starving yourself but ultimately fail. it&rsquo;s frustrating, everything is frustrating, and it&rsquo;s as if your very spirit is fading away. and yet, when you close your eyes, you remember. <p style="text-align: justify;">you remember your adventures. learning your spells and talking with the sea creatures. you remember swimming in shipwrecks and finding all sorts of treasure. you remember taking your notes and studying, and you remember telling lotlyn about it all. <p style="text-align: justify;">you remember the night you strayed far away from laverathia. the night that you breathed the surface-air for the first time; the night that you saw the moon and the stars, unreachable yet shining so brightly in the sky. you remember the surfacers&rsquo; laughter. <p style="text-align: justify;">you remember freedom, and it is what keeps the walls from closing in. <p style="text-align: center;">x. <p style="text-align: justify;">your sister is the one who finds you. <p style="text-align: justify;">the door creaks open, and, at first, you think that lotlyn is some kind of illusion. some kind of dream. but she&rsquo;s real, and she runs up to hug you and is sobbing your name in a matter of seconds. <p style="text-align: justify;">&ldquo; you have to leave ,&rdquo; she says. &ldquo; quickly. you have to .&rdquo; <p style="text-align: justify;">there&rsquo;s no time to ask how she managed to get the guards to leave from their posts. no time to find out how she found the specific tower you were hidden away in. you suppose the specifics don&rsquo;t entirely matter at the moment. <p style="text-align: justify;">as you don the cloak she brought with her, you look at her with a certain awe. wrapped in the cloak was your spellbook and a large shell; you recognize it as your arcane focus. <p style="text-align: justify;">you begin to ask her when she learnt about your magical abilities - but she just shakes her head. there&rsquo;s no time. <p style="text-align: justify;">you both make your way out of the tower, lotlyn leading you through the castle&rsquo;s twisting corridors. you practically raised her yourself and, now, she is the one protecting you. she&rsquo;ll become stronger than your brothers, you&rsquo;re sure of it. when you tell her this, she laughs softly. <p style="text-align: justify;">you manage to escape through the back door of a certain room in a certain building. you slip through the castle stables and swim through the back-roads of the town. it&rsquo;s the dead of night and very few people are out on the streets. none of them pay notice to you and your sister; you&rsquo;re both disguised, after all. <p style="text-align: justify;">when you reach the edge of town, lotlyn hugs you so tightly, you feel as if you&rsquo;ll suffocate in her grasp. instead of suffocating, you return the hug with equal fervor. it dawns upon you that she never asked if you wanted this. she just knew. the revelation makes you smile as you separate from her. <p style="text-align: justify;">&ldquo; you&rsquo;d better enjoy it, you hear me? you&rsquo;d better learn all sorts of amazing things. &rdquo; <p style="text-align: justify;">you promise that you will. you will, no matter what. and you promise tell her all about those things, someday. <p style="text-align: justify;">she hugs you again, and, suddenly, she lets go. she looks at you as if she wants to say something but, instead, opts to swim off quickly - without saying a thing. you don&rsquo;t blame her. <p style="text-align: justify;">goodbyes are difficult, and you don&rsquo;t want to believe that it&rsquo;s the last time you&rsquo;ll see her. <p style="text-align: justify;">what&rsquo;s strange is that you can&rsquo;t find it in your heart to be mad at your mother. you can&rsquo;t even be mad at your brothers. you feel something towards your father; is it anger? is it hatred? you don&rsquo;t know. <p style="text-align: justify;">what you do know is that nothing has changed. you are still a shark at heart. you must still keep moving. <p style="text-align: justify;">and so, you move. <p style="text-align: center;">xi. <p style="text-align: justify;">you swim and you swim and you swim. you swim until you see a ship. <p style="text-align: justify;">a long net dangles below it. so far, no fish have swum into it. perhaps it was only recently lowered. starlight from above glistens in its fibers, making it look like an aquatic creature in its own right. if you didn&rsquo;t know any better, you&rsquo;d think of it as some kind of jellyfish. <p style="text-align: justify;">viglis taught you to never approach the surfacer&rsquo;s nets. <p style="text-align: justify;">&ldquo; they&rsquo;ll whisk you away from here. forever .&rdquo; <p style="text-align: justify;">you think about that night, so long ago. you muster the same courage and curiosity which gave you the strength to dip your head above the waters for the very first time. <p style="text-align: justify;">and you fling yourself right into the net. <p style="text-align: justify;">you become tangled in it instantly; your hair knotting up in those starlit threads. it&rsquo;s hard to breathe in this thing, and you feel like a small fish caught in the jaws of a beast. you give it as harsh a tug as you can muster, and, when nothing happens, you tug it again and again and again. <p style="text-align: justify;">the net jerks and, slowly, you&rsquo;re pulled out of the depths. the surface-air doesn&rsquo;t burn as much as it did so long ago... but that may simply be because you&rsquo;re too terrified to breathe properly. <p style="text-align: justify;">a surfacer pulls you up onto the boat and you land upon it ( you land upon it! ) with a harsh thud. <p style="text-align: justify;">&ldquo; i need you to help me ,&rdquo; you say, before he can so much as say anything. &ldquo; i need you to take me to a port. any port. please .&rdquo; <p style="text-align: justify;">the surfacer looks more confused by the second, but he must see something in your eyes, because he eventually smiles. it&rsquo;s hesitant but such a welcome sight that you feel an urge to hug him - an urge you act upon. the embrace doesn&rsquo;t quell his confusion - rather, it serves to make it all the more pronounced - but the surfacer does untangle you and move you to a room in the ship. it&rsquo;s full of barrels and smells like fish, and he tells you not to leave or else the captain will fly into a rage and throw you both overboard. you tell him that you&rsquo;ll stay put - and that you&rsquo;ll keep the fact that he helped you a secret, no matter what. he seems to believe you, but also seems to be reluctant to leave your side. he finds you a large blanket made of some type of soft, scratchy material and says he&rsquo;ll be back when he can. <p style="text-align: justify;">and then, you are alone. <p style="text-align: justify;">on the surface. alone. everything feels too dry and hot. dry and hot and&hellip; invigorating. the boat moves strangely - bobbing along like a great, lumbering whale - and it&rsquo;s starting to make you feel sick. you keep having the strangest urge to swim upwards, too, even though the only thing above you is creaking wood. <p style="text-align: justify;">you curl into a ball under the blanket and try to acclimate yourself to this strange air. you have nothing but your spellbook and a shell - but you think of everything you want to do. everything you want to see. the surface is yours to experience, now. you&rsquo;ve finally torn down the curtain which once shrouded the surface world from you. <p style="text-align: justify;">things will work out. <p style="text-align: justify;">they have to. <p style="text-align: center;">xii. <p style="text-align: justify;">the surfacer never tells you his name and you never tell him yours. <p style="text-align: justify;">he visits every day, however. sometimes multiple times. his clothes are rather ragged and his skin is brown and smooth. you note that his ears have a slight point to them. his lack of gills kind of weirds you out at first, but you get used to it. he brings you strange surface food and drinks, and he talks to you about a variety of things. he doesn&rsquo;t ask all that many questions about you or your people, and you&rsquo;re thankful for this because you don&rsquo;t think you could manage to lie to someone so kind. <p style="text-align: justify;">you pass the time by thinking about subjects to study and practicing your walking. it&rsquo;s quite the process but, slowly, your reflex to swim upwards dwindles away. the surfacer warns you about land-legs and sea-legs, but it doesn&rsquo;t make much sense to you, so you just nod along to be polite. <p style="text-align: justify;">time passes, and, just as you fall into a steady routine on-board, the surfacer tells you that you&rsquo;ll be arriving at a port soon. in order to disembark without causing a scene, he also tells you that you&rsquo;ll need to conceal yourself in one of the barrels filled with fish. <p style="text-align: justify;">frankly, you think it&rsquo;s all very exciting. <p style="text-align: justify;">the two of you are able to execute the plan flawlessly; you peek out at the world through holes in the barrel as he lugs you off the ship. of course, when it&rsquo;s time to extract you from the barrel, you both earn some odd looks from other surfacers, but you&rsquo;re still too excited to care all that much. the morning sun shines down on you and fills your heart with light. <p style="text-align: justify;">but when all is said and done, your surfacer friend has to go back out to sea. after all, it&rsquo;s his job, and this port is just one stop on his journey. he seems reluctant to leave you, but you see him off with another hug and a sincere thank-you - quietly hoping to meet once more. even if you don&rsquo;t know each other&rsquo;s names&hellip; if it is destined to happen, you believe it will. <p style="text-align: justify;">as he leaves, you realize that the walls which once confined you are now entirely gone. the air in the port is salty and it feels like a new beginning. a new life. you walk about the docks and the surfacers stare at you with wide-eyed curiosity - but they don&rsquo;t know who you are. in fact, most probably don&rsquo;t even know what you are. <p style="text-align: justify;">that suits you just fine. <p style="text-align: justify;">you turn to the sea and quietly bid it farewell. you bid the laverath name farewell, too. <p style="text-align: justify;">and as you leave, you do not look back.