John Bauer, “Agneta and the Sea King,” [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
The Kingdom of the Sea? Yes, I know of it. It lies beneath the wine-dark water. You can’t see it from the surface, though perhaps you might sense its presence. Perhaps you think you see something, a figure there under the shimmering waves. But then you’ll blink or shake your head. Oh, I imagined it, you’ll say. Still, you will shiver. Because you know there is something there.
I’m an old man now; perhaps you think my mind wanders. Perhaps it does. But I’ve seen The Kingdom and lived to tell the tale. Come, pull your chair closer to the fire, and I’ll tell you about it.
You see, it was because of Jenny with her long, amber curls and blue-grey eyes. I was in love with her. All the boys in the village were. But she said her heart belonged to the sea. Foolish poetic ramblings, I thought.
She had come out on my father’s boat with me. It was a warm day, and the water shimmered with light and possibility. I kissed her there—the first and only time–and I swear, she kissed me back for a moment, before gently pushing me away. We dozed then in the warm sunlight, rocked by the waves. I woke to see her hanging over the boat. I heard her whisper, “Come for me, Love.”
I saw him then–the Sea King, glorious and terrible. He reached up and pulled Jenny down beneath the ocean’s surface. I dove into the water, frantic to save her.
But I know now, she did not want to be saved. I watched Jenny enter the Kingdom of the Sea with the king, and as she did, she turned and waved farewell to me. The castle glimmered beneath the waves; like a vision, it was there and gone. Then there was a sudden darkness inside my head.
I awakened on the shore, soaked and exhausted, but Jenny was never found.
Of course no one believed my story. They said she must have fallen out of the boat and drowned, while I was washed ashore by the waves as I tried to save her. But I know what I saw.
This is for Jane Dougherty’s microfiction challenge–though since I’ve gone way over the word count, I guess it’s not really microfiction. The prompt was the illustration above by Swedish artist, John Bauer, for a book of fairy tales.
Yesterday and today: Merril's historical musings 
He’s lucky he wasn’t accused of murdering her! Lovely story, Merril. It has a real folk tale feel to it, with the perfect rhythm of a good story.
Thank you very much, Jane! 🙂
I did have a sentence about how they knew he would never hurt her, but it felt like too much explanation.
It doesn’t matter in the context. He’s telling the story so obviously nothing happened to him. You can have too much explanation in a story.
Yes, that’s what I thought. I picture him actually sitting at the fire and telling the story to some visitor who might ask follow up questions–and then the narrator would tell him more. But it’s beyond this story.
That would be another story 🙂
Yes, a boring one. 😉
Not quite so thrilling, no 🙂
Merril, what a fabulous tale. Part myth, part legend and part truth… love it!
Thank you very much, Tom. What a wonderful comment!
I could see him sitting beside the fire on many nights over the years, always feeling cold since that day. Since he has to call people to come closer to him, beside the fire, I also imagine them keeping their distance from him at all times, sensing truth to his story when it happened and not wanting too close a connection to someone so intimate with the circumstances.
Oh–good points! Thank you.
That Sea-king is a right one! Check out my story – surprisingly similar, I think, though told by a different narrator. I love rivrvlogr’s points – he does sound quite isolated at the start. I guess he never really got over Jennie and her auburn curls. I like the folk-y feel of it, the idea that this is a true story he’s telling us.
I never read the stories until I’ve written mine, so it’s so funny how they are so similar–even the names Jeanie and Jenny! I had read some of the tales about the sea king, and unlike the women in them, I wanted Jenny to go willingly.
It’s funny how these things bubble up, isn’t it? I like your Jenny – I think she’s making better choices than poor old Jeanie…
Well, we don’t really know what happened to Jenny, but I wanted her to be active, rather than passive. I like to think she had a good life in the Kingdom of the Sea, unlike poor Jeanie.
I think it might be her fault that Jeanie lost her pearl. Just saying. 😉
Oh, dear. Poor misguided Jeanie. 😉
I never read the stories, either. I think it would “set” the image for me!
Yes, exactly. I don’t want to be influenced. 🙂
From the looks of things, more than kissing has been going on . . .
That made me laugh, Marian. I risqué comment from the “Plain” woman. 😉
But of course!
You’re a sly one, Marian. 😉
And of course, my first comment should have been “A” instead of “I.”
Merril, your story was so wonderfully told, from the beginning up through the ending. It seemed fitting to the painting, too. I liked how you include the eye witness who loved her. He saw how Jenny made the choice to be taken underwater to the Kingdom of the Sea. You helped me visualize every part of this folk styled love story.
The Swedish fairy tale artist was certainly unique in his portrayal of the Sea King. I think of big Poseidon and his white swirling beard, like a wave upon his chin. 🙂 This portrayal is so sensual and such a sinewy man.
Thanks, Robin. I’m glad you liked the story!
The illustration is interesting–sort of a modernist pre-Raphaelite. Jane has used some of his other work.
And you know, I had forgotten until just now that he, his wife, and their son died in a ferry crash.
What a mad and enchanting tale! I need to visit the sea more often 😀
Thank you, Rose!
Be careful if you lean over a boat. 😉
Nicely told. Reminiscent of ‘Undine’
Thank you, Derrick.
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A wonderfully told tale. It has a fairytale feel to it too – the maid who belonged below the waters. Very fitting for the painting
Thank you very much, Lynn!
My pleasure Merril 🙂