❝ a mermaid belongs to the sea. she cannot stay on land without the guarantee of her death. ❞
❝ yes, but her heart belongs here. ❞
↳ gandalf the grey to queen marella
╔═══ -ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ- ═══╗
she belonged...
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"YOUR MOTHER WAS ALWAYS A FREE spirit. So carefree, fun-loving, so...exeburant. She had the heart of a fierce and fiery warrior and the soul of her all-powerful ancestors. The mind and every inch of a Queen. She longed for adventure, longed to escape the prison walls of Atlantis. It is said that Marella has more power than any of her ancestors, and develops a deeper connection to the maiar blood of her own. It is rumored that her power, her traits, have been passed to her daughter, to form a newer and more powerful connection to your magic. You have a lot more in common with your mother than you like to think, Vera, much like how she protected you from the dangers of the sea. You may have grown up thinking that Atlantis is safer than any other dominion of Arda...but something more dangerous and treacherous lies within the borders."
Vera sits on a chair, the warm glow of the fire burning at the hidden fireplace at one corner of the room. She leans into her chair, crossing an arm over her chest as she expectantly listens to the man tell his tale. Her face is hard and cold, showing no sign of emotion or weakness to this man. She may have granted him the benefit of having warmth in the quaint cottage but she truly did not trust him. Perhaps she trusted what he said, but she did not trust his intentions. Her friends remain outside the cottage, still watching guard for Vera's sake, but was informed of her decision and was welcomed to sit inside if needs be; they had declined. That had lead to the two creatures of the sea to sit and talk like old friends when they are anything but, but so much more at the same time.
The man had revealed himself by the end of their previous discussion, displaying a monstrous visage of a worn, old man. Though his immortality forbade the portrayal of an aged and decrepit man, his eyes were far elderly than those of Vera's. His hair was entirely blonde, almost nearing the point of the color silver, and was long just like the elven kind. His eyes were an icy blue, so cold and evil, and nothing like the eye color that belonged to her brother, who's eyes were kind and sweet with love and warmth. The man's figure was fearfully frail and weak, appearing to nearly fall over if anyone were to touch him. Vera was careful not to go anywhere near him but guarded herself from any attempts made from the dangerous man.
As Vera motions for him to continue with the slightest hints of patience in her, the man coughs slightly from the cold and rubs his hands together to create more warmth. While he appeared to be causing more heat for his shivering body, the old man was merely stalling and pushing the tensions further than needs be; he loved every bit of the dramatics of this situation. Once he decided that it was enough testing Vera's patience, he continues with a brittle tone, "Your mother, as I hope she told you, was arranged to marry a nobleman for the sake of her Kingdom and to create a stronger alliance with the other Kingdoms of the ocean. She was the firstborn of many, you see, and the firstborn is always more important than the rest — I suppose that's why many people either adored her...or wished to end her entirely. On the day of another failed engagement, Marella fled from the palace and took refuge in a home on land."
