Ancestors

It all depends upon what set of my ancestors you want to talk about, doesn’t it? If you talk about my human, Scottish ancestors, you would come up with a very different answer than if you were to talk of my Fae ancestors. Either side has its pluses and minuses. There are those on either side of my ancestry who would wish me to hold the other side up in shame or elevated sense of superiority. I am the product of what came after the Great Wars, the war between Humanity and Fae. Sometimes I am proud and other days I am plagued by the challenges of either side, truth be told.

My mother, Maeve MacKay, was the youngest of four daughters. She was born in Lochlallan between the Highlands and the sea, the same as me. Don’t bother looking for it. It isn’t there anymore; it was burned to the ground by the British centuries ago. My maternal grandmother was a village healer and my grandfather one of the elders of the Clan. Lochlallan had a close tie to the People of the Fortunate Island. They were different, some say they were originally from another island that sunk into the sea long before Rome was ever born. Others say they were immigrants from a land of Hill People, Elves or the like, who had strange ways that few outside of the Highlands or even within them surmise. My mother was raised in love and learned the healing arts from my grandmother. When she turned seven, she was taken to the village square and by lottery was chosen to go to the Fortunate Island to be a priestess among the people there. By all accounts of those who knew my mother, she was bright and kind and in some ways she was more than a little bit innocent. My Mother was a trusting soul, and she adored Morgienne, the new High Lady of the Island. I think that it was this that cost her her life.

It is oft said that the bones of our ancestors is the foundation upon which we build our own lives. I think I have figured why my father, the dark Sidhe prince Gan Ceanach chose my mother in the scheme of things. It is said that the Scots were always considered to be ‘good breeders’. Since it is very hard female Fae to get pregnant and/or carry to term, Maeve MacKay provided the Sidhe prince, who was my father the perfect opportunity. In a forest glen, on the Fortunate Island while she was gathering herbs, singing a song, my father came upon her. You see, his very name, Gan Ceanach, means “Love Talker”, and he was that. He is well known to be a seducer, and being the trusting sort, my mother was easy prey to his Fae wiles.

When a human is loved by someone who is Fae, they can become what is called “Elf-Struck”. The intensity of the liaisons are such that sometimes the human can go mad. Some tried to infer that is why she died in the first place. I later came to find out that it was not how it happened at all. In my four years with my mother, I never knew her to be ‘mad’. But then again, I was quite young. Maeve MacKay bore her illegitimate pregnancy with as much grace as she could. Morgienne was the one who was most keenly interested in my mother’s health and particularly in the child that she carried. It was almost as if Morgienne herself was carrying me, but it was during a visit to her parents in Lochlallan that Maeve MacKay gave birth to me, Frances Moira MacKay. A few short weeks later, I went back to the Fortunate Island with my mother and we lived there in relative peace until she died, leaving me to the care of Morgienne.

During the whole of her pregnancy, and in the years after my birth, my mother never saw my father again. I did not see him until I was nearly twelve years old. It was hilarity to watch my foster-mother, Morgienne bowing and scraping and fussing over me as if I were her own. As if she could entice my father’s interest in me – or herself. All I remember about him is that he was cordial enough to us, but behind it was a coldness, an arrogance that was boundless. There was no affection that even my child’s heart could perceive and it was not until many years later, after I had assumed the throne of the Fortunate Island on my own did I happen to encounter him again. Even at this time, I can count the number of times that my father and I ever spoke to each other on one hand.

My mother was loving and spent every moment doting upon me and explaining everything she could to me in the short time we had together. My grandparents passed shortly before she did, so I never really knew them. They are just shadows in my memory, really. Images that I cannot quite grasp upon that have faded over the passage of time. It was from my mother, however, and obviously from my Scottish ancestors, that I learned about love. From the Fae ones I learned that love and power and life itself has a ferocity that can rend worlds and the people within them into pieces. I learned that neither side will accept you as one of their own, because you will never be one of them. You will not ever be one or the other – you are both. And in a world where the Fae and Humanity still have a great deal of animosity and distrust, it is a careful dance you must do in order to reconcile either side.

Sometimes it can feel like that foundation of our ancestors bones that we build our own lives upon can be alot like a house of cards.

Muse: Fanny Fae
Fandom: Original Character
Word Count: 982
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