Hi, New story - bit different to Finding Another Way - this is set from Emma's POV.

Will be deep and dark and SwanQueen, set in AU (loosely Little Mermaid).

Mature rating for later chapters, won't be updated anywhere as near as quickly as my last story - sorry but that was intense and I don't ever want to put myself under that kind of pressure again!

Hope you all enjoy - please leave feedback if you feel the need and enjoy it! Thanks.


I can look back and remember the night that changed my life forever. It had seemed no different to any other with the water glowing with the rays of the setting sun. The wind had begun to pick up and the waves buffeted my breasts and shoulders that were above the waterline. It was beautiful to watch the cobalt blue water, so inviting, so pure and clean. To watch the bright blue change, slowly darken, reflecting gold and then bronze as the sun's rays sunk lower in the sky, disappearing into the sea at the horizon. It seemed to set the water on fire, yet it remained cool and wet, hugging my body and giving it the support to float on the surface.

As the sun finally disappeared beyond sight the last light of the day began to dwindle, the water turned slate grey and the wind blew harder making the waves bigger, taller. They were filled with energy that wanted to smash themselves open and be released into the rapidly cooling night. It was an open stretch of ocean and they would travel far, growing in size and energy before meeting a shore they could hungrily attack. I could feel the weight of cloud and expectation of a storm laying on the surface of the ocean and pressing on me. It seemed that as the sun had set, so it had signalled the change in weather.

I sighed deeply and then dove deep into the water, the water pushing my long blonde hair streaming behind me, my eyes open and alert, the water like a hand running over my back, rushing into every crease of my body. Pushing at my breasts and caressing over my nipples, my body a pale blur I kicked my tail and descending into the darker depths where my world waited for me.

My people would talk about that storm for a long time. It polluted our world as many ships were wrecked and emptied their full bellies into the ocean that night. Many things that I now know were valued higher than the men's lives that were transporting them came to lay at rest on the floor of my home. Chests full of gold, jewels, stones that would glitter in the light were now buried beneath hundreds of feet of ocean never to see the light of day or glitter ever again.

Metal, wood, rope, all rained into my world, ruined sails, masts, metal riveted to metal torn apart by nothing more than nature's fury. The wind and rain and water wiped up into a maelstrom to smash the lives and achievements of men apart. Things we had no need of and no idea how to use came filtering down, some inspired inspection, some were ignored, and most were left where they fell. Even the dead, drowned, sightless bodies. Some broken, some in a state of undress where the wind and water had not only taken their lives but their clothing and broken their bodies to show man was nothing compared to the power held in nature around them.


When I was a young girl I had been ordered to stay away from the surface for fear of being seen and observed. My playful, sometimes boisterous nature and tendency to stray from imposed boundaries meant I was watched closely by my elders, trying to ensure I obeyed this simple command, but the surface was beautiful and called to my soul. I didn't fear the land folk like some of my kind did, they were a glorious distraction from my mundane life. I would visit as often as I could, learning to hide and taking great pleasure in seeing uninhibited human life enacted in front of me.

Whether I was naïve or just full of youthful cockiness, I became fascinated with the land, the shore and the people above us. If I was able to slip away I would swim hard and fast, making my heart beat quicken, smiling at the feeling of being so free, cutting through the water and breaking the surface and loving the feel of the wind buffeting me. If I knew I could slip away for a prolonged time I would find a rocky outcropping and hide away behind it, and my eyes would dart round taking in the sights and sounds as the humans rushed on with their lives. My long hair would dry in the sun, looking like spun gold as the light reflected from it and I always marvelled at how soft it became as it dried. I often felt my cheeks get tight, they would glow from the sun and the wind caressing me. I could feel how they would get warm and if I caught a reflection in the water I'd look rosy rather than the paleness I was used to looking back at me. I would smile as children rushed into the water and screamed from the cold, splashing each other, their parents laughing at the behaviour before rushing in and splashing them with as much childish vigour as the youngsters themselves displayed.

I would watch men sail small boats, their muscles straining as they pulled on ropes and pulleys to change the angle of the sail, moved the rudder and showed balance as the waves would lap round the boat and they would sway with the motion of the sea, getting wind swept and salt splashed and soaking up the sun with their browning bodies, the strength of their arms but particularly their legs fascinated me.

I loved watching the humans, and as I grew up the thrill of it never diminished, even as I was allowed more freedom by my father, who I suspect had grown tired of trying to watch me and trying to change me. He gave told me the boundaries had been relinquished because of my age, that I was fast becoming an adult and with a resigned sigh he watched me swim away with a huge smile on my pale features.

As I had been allowed to visit the surface at night I took advantage of the opportunity often. My previous visits hadn't been about the thrill of disobeying and breaking the rules, it was the joy of watching and wishing to be part of a life above the water.

Although I did know I liked pushing my boundaries and my heart had always beat a little faster as I swam away from our colony, knowing I was being naughty and the fear of being caught and punished by the elders would send a shiver down my back if I thought too long about it. But that wasn't why I went to the surface. There were plenty of places below the water I wasn't allowed to go, and they held no interest for me, they were dark and lifeless, the complete opposite to the shore.

But even when I became fully grown it was always forbidden to break the surface during the night if there were storms, the sea a violet and uncaged monster, devouring anything in its path and my father was petrified that thing could be me. These were the rules of my culture. We were ruled by a strict set of laws that were designed to keep us safe, an elected elder governed us with counsel from other elders and although we were spread out over a vast distance across the ocean floor we were a close community. I knew every merperson, old and young and although I was a free and independent spirit who enjoyed being alone I would have been welcomed into any group. I had always enjoyed the freedom allowed by our community and pushed the laws and boundaries administered by the elders. I went to the surface to see the sun set often, went above the surface during the day, even venturing near the coast to see the humans and their lives. No one followed me or checked on me as I was now a teenager and they had young merlings to oversee, I was expected to be responsible and follow the authoritative examples laid down.

Things might have been different had I a mother to talk to, to bond with. My mother who had carried me around in her mouth when I was very small and still developing, had lovingly nurtured me for my first few years, but had been savaged by a shark and died from her injuries in my father's arms when I was 3 years old. I might have grown understanding and honouring our traditions, respecting the rules, but I had no mother and far too much solitary time to think.

My father, an elder on the council still stops and thinks about her every day, telling me their love was true and he misses her immensely. I wish I could remember her, but I have grown up with his love but no guidance on how to behave as a merwoman. Father is very rigid in his views and would have bonded better with a son, he loves me but has not ability to show it like a mother would do. I have lost count of the number of times he sit thoughtfully and would open his mouth to begin saying something, "Emma…" and then trail off shaking his head, deciding better to leave it unsaid.

As it is he leaves me to my own devices, too busy with his council duties and trying to find willing women to watch me and ensure I was brought up to behave properly and appropriately as a merwoman. And I have learned much, none of it taught to me by the poor women father found to child sit me. What I learned I found out by watching interactions, seeing the expectations of our culture. One where the mermen expect very little from their women except to bear children and to be there for them, to listen to them, to stand by their side and nod in agreement.

And my father, who I know is a good man and tried his best, fails to understand my youthful exuberance. As long as I come home every night when he expects me then he would often be too distracted by his own day and his own responsibilities to ask too many questions of me and about how I had spent my time.


The night of the storm there was a council meeting, which meant that I was left alone. The men were busy, and the women folk were expected to oversee the younglings. Some without children either met socially in smaller groups or made their own entertainment, I had always enjoyed being solitary and took my opportunity as everyone else was occupied.

It was oppressively dark, the water had a heavy feeling to it. Able to see in the dark, our eyes had accustomed to living in the depths, there was still a feel to the gloom which indicated unrest within the body of water and I felt a chill pass through me as I swam up through the troubled turbulence. Clouds had obscured and obliterated the moon so no light penetrated the surface of the water.

When I broke the frenzied surface the water looked black, like tar, so different from the inviting blue it had been earlier in the day. Although I was built to live in the water and loved it, tonight it filled me with dread. It seemed alive and hungry and ready to pounce on anyone who made a mistake, human, merperson it didn't matter to the water. The young girl in me wanted to turn tail and flea back into the deep water, my tail pulsing as fast as if I was outrunning a shark. The other part of me, the rebellious and brave part set out to the nearest land to explore the night and face the storm. The rain beat on my head, I was already wet but the ferocity of it stung my bare shoulders. Breaking the surface meant I also had to fight the waves so I stayed beneath the water until I came close to the coastline.

As I swam I realised I'd come very close to the hull of a ship. I glided past it, hardly seeing it in the gloom, registering it as it pushed a huge volume of water out of the way as it cut through the waves. I thought they must be mad trying to navigate through the sea while the weather was like this. I decided to follow them and surfaced to take a closer look.

It was a large wooden vessel, being battered by the wind and rain, yet still there was a resilient young man standing at the bow and defying the weather, arms open, wet through but still with a grin on his tanned and youthful face. His white shirt was stuck to his chest and arms, it had gone see through because of how wet it was and you could see the defined muscles he had. His black hair would have been mated to his head if the wind had not been so strong and whipped it about his face. I felt his power, defiance and admired his courage and beauty all at once.

Just then the waves pitched and the ship plunged into a wall of water. The man was knocked from his feet and was on his knees on the deck. I thought our eyes meet for a brief moment before I slunk back under the surface. I was swimming away, after nearly being spotted when I heard the splash and shouts of urgency coming from the ship. I knew immediately that someone had entered the water and would only be alive for a short while before the water pounded the life from them and left them behind for the fish to feed on.

I turned and watched as men rushed to the side of the ship, the dark haired man one of them. So it hadn't been him that had fallen into the water, I felt mild relief at that. He was attractive and my heart had skipped in admiration when looking at him. I didn't want to watch anyone die, but my heart would have been sad if it had been him in the water and battling against the water. I might even have intervened in the spur of the moment, my emotions taking over as my impulsive and childish side reared up despite my best efforts to claim I was fast becoming an adult.

In his hands he had a rope and quickly tied it round his waist, his hands strong and sure as he tied the knot that his life would depend on. So gracefully for a human he turned and dived into the water, he seemed to hang in the air, his body knifing into the water not far from me, the rope playing out behind him and being held by the men remaining on the ship.

I watched his dedication to his friend or shipmate, and his desire to save the man ignoring his own fear. I was in awe of his confidence in his ability. I found an inner part of myself pulled to the man, to the humans more than I had ever been before. I watched fascinated as the men worked together to save the fallen one, taking on nature and the ocean and winning.

As I stared at the ship, at the men I realised that humans pushed themselves to their limits, bettering themselves, forever striving to go further, do more. And I felt that desire mirrored in my soul. I was not happy and content to just accept the life I was given, I wanted more, I wanted to push my boundaries and myself and be better too.

My current life was dictated to me, I was expected to take a mate, to follow the traditional way of our people, to breed and further our race. And as a woman there were few opportunities left to explore and to be different. I sighed as the realisation and weight of what being an adult meant in my culture, my world.

I quickly and quietly swam away, more conflicted than ever before.