Lady of the Loch

23 September 1995; shore of Loch Tay; near Killin, Stirling, Scotland, UK
.
Don grimaces at the fishing rod and line and cup of mealworms. "I'm a city boy, you know. I haven't a clue how to do this."
"It's /simple. Here." Murron grabs the pole, digs the baggie of hooks from the pocket of her new blue coat from Mummy, passes it over. "Get one of these out, please, and a bug."
Don sets to work while she frees the end of the line, threads it through the eyes along the rod.
"Here you go."
"So. You tie the hook on like this—" Murron tightens a quick, firm knot. "—and then you take a bug—" Holds out her hand.
Don sets one on her palm.
Murron puts the hook through the bug, hands the pole to Don. "And then you sort of—" She mimes. "—/fling the hook and bug into the water."
Don frowns, looks from the rod to the loch, shrugs. "Here goes nothing."
/splink! goes the hook.
"Good job!"
"Now what?" asks Don.
"Now we wait for a fish to bite the hook."
"Right. We wait."
They watch the unmoving line for a handful of heartbeats.
"Can we sit while we wait?"
"Yes!" Murron plops down under the big picnic umbrella Don'd set up, pats the blanket beside her.
Don eases himself to sitting, eyes still on the spot the line disappears into the water.
Birds sing; rushes rattle; the loch makes watery noises.
Don sighs a big sigh.
A dark kelpie breaks the surface near the shore, flicks an ear their way, disappears with a ripple.
"Doubt we'll catch anything with that one on the hunt."
Murron hums agreement.
Don reels in the line and the waterlogged mealworm, sets the gear aside. "It's a lovely day to be out anyway."
"Mmhm. It's almost /warm."
"Yea, best enjoy it before winter gets comfy again."
"Winter ...." Murron hugs her knees to her chest.
"Chilled?"
"No ... just thinking."
"About what?"
Murron shrugs.
Don touches behind his ear, holds up a silvery coin. "Penny for your thoughts."
Murron smiles at the magic. "That's ten pence."
"Must be a big thought you're having." He drops the coin on her upturned palm.
She slips it into a pocket. "Have you ever seen the Winter Queen?"
"In the flesh?"
"Mmhm."
"Once. In The Blessing."
"What's she like?"
Don braces his arms, leans back, stretches his legs in front of him, crosses his ankles. "Well, what really struck me was her eyes: black as night; couldn't tell pupil from iris. Her skin's bronze like yours, maybe a shade darker, and she's the same straight black hair as you do, but she's only five foot tall if she's an inch."
"So she's /small."
"Aye, she's a wee thing, but she can clear a room with only a bloody /look. You can feel the power she's got at a good distance. It's no wonder the UN backed down when she first showed up."
"You remember that happening?"
Don nods. "I was a wee yin, but I do. You'd have thought the world'd gone /mental, but there she was on telly, large as life, throne taking up fully half the auditorium, surrounded by Faerie soldiers—all of 'em carrying swords and nearly /naked—telling the most powerful men in the world 'behave or else'." He shakes his head. "That was a hell of a week."
"I'd /bet." She tilts her head. "But I'd swear she was taller than you when I met her."
"Oh? When'd you cross paths?"
"She's the one saved me from the loch."
A funny look dances across Don's face before it settles back to normal. 
"Huh. Maybe it's true, then," he says.
"What's true?"
"The story there's really /three Winter Queens."
"Three? Really?"
Don nods, all serious. "There's the one I've seen, who's wee and scary and the one you saw who's—?" He raises an eyebrow.
"She was about your height and her hair was cut short and she had a really soft voice that was kinda rough, too."
"Like sharkskin," murmurs Don.
"Exactly!"
"I think ... I think you're a very lucky girl."
Murron's heart picks up speed.
"Yea, I think you met the Secret Queen—the Lady of the Lake. She doesn't leave Elphame very often so not many mortals get to see her."
"Really?"
"In fact, you're the first soul I've met who might've met her."
Murron's heart takes flight.
Don scratches the back of his head. "Actually, the only story I've heard of someone meeting her was the young man she handed a sword and who—"
"King Arthur?!"
"The very one." Don tilts his head. "She didn't give you something, did she?"
"She gave me a ring?" squeaks Murron.
"Silver or gold?"
"Silver?"
"Have a stone?"
"Mmhm! It's green and Missus Galloway says it's heliotrope."
Don gives a low whistle. "That's a powerful gift. Metal and stone of protection and prophecy. She has big plans for you, I think."
"You really think so?"
"The Winter Queens don't mess about. If one singled you out, gave you a gift, you're definitely something special."
"But I'm just ... I'm only a ... I was a selkie."
"And Arthur was just a stupid teenage boy when she handed him a bloody big sword and told him he'd be king of England. Look how that worked out." He bumps her shoulder with his. "Pretty sure she knows what she's doing."
Murron only blinks at him.
"You keeping the ring somewhere safe?"
She nods, slow.
"Good, good. It'll probably be useful to you someday."
Murron chews her lip.
"Go ahead and say it."
"Are you /sure I'm special?"
"Dead sure."
"Did your Winter Queen give you anything?"
"She didn't even glance my way."
"I can't believe it."
"It's true, though. That I'll swear and I don't swear lightly."
"But you're—"
"Your older brother and champion, yea?"
"My what?"
"Champion. Protector." Don grins. "Every queen of legend has one and you're stuck with me."
"Until I find a husband, then I'll have /two champions!"
"That you will, but don't be in such a hurry. You've plenty of time to find the right boy for you."
"Of /course I do, but I also like to think /way ahead."
"That's why you'll be a great queen someday."
Murron grins so hard her cheeks hurt. "Queen Murron the Mighty of Scotland!"
"And her loyal knight, Sir Don the Nocturnal."
"That's a silly name."
"For a silly knight."