A Tale of the Shapeshifters

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑿𝑳 - 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑪𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝑩𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚

The life Isolde had planned was so beautiful.

At a social dance in Dublin, when she was but 17-years-old—Athena's age—one of those sweeping Romantic waltzes played. Hugging the wall, hoping to not get caught by some older man wanting to dance, she looked down. Isolde couldn't even remember the color of dress she wore; she remembered nothing about that evening other than the low blue light that filtered throughout the room and the shiny black shoes that stepped up to her.

He was so unlike anything she'd ever wanted. Which is perhaps why she fell so quickly.

She had wanted a hardy man, someone who could work on the farm. Never before had she even considered someone else. She had never fantasized over a man before and only saw marriage as a way to provide for her family.

But, this man, delicate and tall and fair, with his flowing locks of brown hair toppling over onto one side of his face—this man, with his suit that was so much more expensive than her hand-sewn gown—this man, extending his unmarred hand out to her.... He changed everything.

Heads turned as the most prominent figure, a wealthy man from a well-to-do family in London, asked a farm girl from the outskirts of Dublin to dance.

Isolde didn't know why he had chosen her, for no man had ever taken a serious interest in her before. Everyone from her small town considered her to be too beautiful for any farmhand or seafarer. Even though she never considered herself so—she just thought she was like everyone else.

A few lesser men and boys, in their garments made by their mothers or wives, huffed, as they knew they could never compare to Mr. Charles Everleigh in style or charm. Isolde wouldn't want to dance with anyone else after him.

In only a few months' time, they were wed, with the promise that Isolde could stay on her inherited family farm. She wouldn't marry him otherwise. He seemed truly interested in learning her Irish Gaelic, and all of the myths and tales that passed around their town. In return, Charles taught Isolde how to speak more proper English as well as societal customs when she visited his family.

She dreamed. She laid in bed at night, looking up at the stars, dreaming. Of children, of money to fix the farm, of love and dancing and language and waltzes.

But, with Athena, everything changed.

Keeping Athena's gift a secret was the hardest thing she ever had to do. She wanted to tell Charles, but couldn't.

And then, he spoiled Athena, too. Never wanting her to do chores around the house and putting all of them on Isolde, teaching her things he never taught Isolde, loving her the way he never loved Isolde.

It wasn't until the woman grew so furious one day that she said she was leaving Charles and taking Athena with her that he changed. Athena worked around the house from then on, much to her father's disapproval. Eventually, Charles had to get a job in town, too, after his parents' death. His monthly supply of money ended and, in his father's will, all of the money went to Helena, Charles's sister. And he knew why he had not been included—the farm girl he married.

The fair man with tailored suits faded away over the years, revealing a scruffy, unshaven costermonger. The only thing that remained was his accent and upturned nose. The forest and harsh cliffs and sea had roughened him; he had caved underneath the dark, salty waves.

Isolde wished she had never been born beautiful. For beauty gave her love and beauty took it away.

~❦︎~

Athena danced about the house, doing her chores to the tunes of the phonograph. She waltzed with plenty of strangers, bowed to them, and chatted with them.