𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐄 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐄. It was rare when she had time alone to herself, what with her studies and responsibilities to her people—the Kiviuq—but in between all that she had to do, she liked to steal away time to simply rise to the surface and stare at the dwellings made of ice in the distance, more often than not creating stories of what she believed they were like in her mind.

Like many people who lived underneath the sea, she had yet to meet the people of the tribe on the surface, for there were rules in place that forbid it, except when absolutely necessary. Despite the elders explaining the dangers of speaking to humans, it didn't stop any of them from being curious, sometimes even going so far as to sneak away and stare at them as they went about their day, none the wiser at the curious eyes trailing behind them.

But her spot was hidden enough to not be seen by anyone, unless someone deliberately made their way over, and it was secluded enough that wanderers rarely did so, seeing as how a fall to the rocky shores far below meant a guaranteed fatal accident. Portia liked to climb up and settled against a rock with a book of her choice tucked underneath her arm, the relative silence more soothing company than the other people in her pod, staying away as long as she could before her father came looking for her.

Her people weren't necessarily like the Mermaids the people on the surface liked to tell about in their stories; in fact, they were more like humans more than anything, graced with both the ability to breathe underwater and the sharp, cold air above. The Merpeople generally stationed themselves deep enough to avoid interactions between the two species, and away from the typical hunting grounds in the interest of steering clear of confrontation, the latter of which was an entirely different and controversial argument—one she didn't feel like thinking about.

Instead, she simply leaned her back against the snowy rock she had chosen—the cold had never been something her people were bothered by—and began to read, her eyed skimming the bent pages she had already read what easily could have been hundreds times before, a sound of discontent rising in her throat until she tossed it aside, folding her arms carefully and staring ahead.

The books her father had procured for her had been no easy feat, and while Portia was very aware of their rare nature, it still didn't wash away her desire for different ones, ones that did not speak of healing practices or leadership, but rather fantastical stories and adventures that she knew would cause her father to float to the surface if she ever came close.

It seemed the closest she would get to excitement was keeping her father on his toes.

Her father, Amren, had done his best to keep their tribe together with the sense of community his parents before him had done, but it had proven to be more difficult than anticipated after the passing of his wife when she was only a little girl. At the tender age of seven, Portia had what could have been a blessing or a curse—she had enough memories to remember what her mother was like, but her youth meant those same memories were not as reliable as one would think, her senses of the woman that had loved her so tenderly slowly fading away like bubbles of sea foam crashing against the rocky shore.

Seeing as she was too young to remember her mother as the great leader people said she was, Portia became satisfied by the stories Amren told her before dozing to sleep in her alcove, a close-lipped smile spreading across her face like an oasis rising from a sandy wasteland as the personification of the woman slowly began to grow; more often than not, she drifted to sleep with persisting dreams of a shadowed figure of a woman just beyond her reach.

She had made the mistake of telling her father about the dreams when she was younger, thinking it would make him happy to know his daughter was connecting with the only woman he had ever loved. His voice choked and his eyes red, Amren told her to do her best to never have the dreams again, consoling her by saying she would see her mother again someday, and that the three of them would live together as a family again when the time came.

It was only years later, thinking back on the encounter, when she realized that, had they been up on the surface, her father would have been crying with tears in his eyes.

It was why she had never told him that she continued to have the dreams long after he had instructed her to pay them no mind. When she did have one, she welcomed the heartache that tugged at her chest like an old friend, allowing her memories to fold alongside her imagination until the line between imagination and memory blurred like seeping waves washing over the imprints made on sand.

She remembered what she imagined and imagined what she remembered. Because it was a piece of her mother that only she held.

At the time, Portia hadn't understood why they could've have been together then; in her mind, her mother was beside her one day and gone the next. As she grew older, she learned not to ask questions about her mother, as it only made Amren become glassy-eyed and distant, only coming to when whatever daydream he had slipped into had dissolved.

"Portia! Portia, come down!"

Portia groaned as the sound of a shrill voice carried up the slope, pretending not to have heard, slamming the book she was trying to lose herself in closed and making her way to the edge, the owner of the shrill voice frantically waving up at her.

"Your father told me to get you!" the same high-pitched voice shouted, and her mood dropped even more, despite her messenger being one of her favorite people in the tribe.

The younger girl, Vetria, was one of the youngest in the community, and despite her gushing personality, she seemed to have difficulty making friends with the other young children, instead sticking close to Portia whenever the opportunity arose, and if now was any indication, she was also more than happy to fetch her and return home.

However, it was only with a small sigh that she tucked the book between the ruffles of her clothing, secure enough so that it wouldn't fall out, and walked backwards a few paces until the back of her ankle touched the freezing rock, before sprinting to the edge and jumping off.

For a moment, the familiar feeling of floating was overwhelming, as if she was cradled by blue, suspended, like the dancers that performed on the solstice, her loose white hair wafting behind her against the sky. Her vision blurred for the briefest of moments, a blur that swirled out of existence until a spinning vortex of water rose from the depths of the sea and caught her buoyant form.

Portia could nearly hear Vetria splashing in after her over the sound of her own body hitting the water, allowing her limbs to relax as she naturally floated upward, the grinning face of the girl emerging amongst the cascade of bubbles.

"Isn't it past your bedtime?" she teased, her frustration quickly melting at the beaming smile aimed in her direction, pinching her chubby cheek.

"No!" Vetria exclaimed, shoving away her hand and crossing her arms over her bare chest before remembering why she had been tasked to summon her in the first place, "Your ataata is looking for you, he said to meet him at home this instant."

"Now?" Portia repeated, laying on her back and reaching her hands behind her head positioning herself so that her body was parallel to the sky, "But we're having so much fun together, aren't we?"

The girl giggled. "Yes, but he's more important! He's your dad, you should go see what he wants."

"If you insist," she declared, exaggerating an air of exhaustion before swimming away, blowing kisses behind her shoulder as the faint image of the girl grew more and more vague, until she too swam off in a different direction, leaving Portia alone to make her way home.

It was not the first time Amren had summoned her from her spot, and it would be foolish on both parts to think it would be the last. But so long as she managed her studies and kept away from the surface, their relationship remained as it always had been-small but loving.

"Where have you been?"

The deep voice startled Portia, causing her to whirl around and come face to face with Amren, pushing her white hair to the side, with what she hoped didn't seem like a nervous smile creeping up on her lips.

"Ataata," she greeted, responding with a hug, not wanting the inevitable reparation to begin until he was in better spirits, although she knew better than to lie to him about her whereabouts.

"I sent Vetria to find you because no one had seen you," he pressed, his hands permanently stuck at his hips, "What were you doing?"

"Nothing," she claimed, then seeing the look on his face, quickly reiterated, "Really, nothing, ataata, I promise! I had my book with me and I lost track of time, that's all."

Amren raised an eyebrow at the book crammed tightly at her side, reaching over and pulling it free, examining the title, unsatisfied at her choice of literature. "I don't have to ask where you were reading, do I?"

"I wasn't that far away," Portia tried, because she knew from experience that appealing to her father's good side might mean a lack of punishment, "I just wanted some peace and quiet, I didn't get too close."

"So you decided to sneak away?" her father asked, his tone dangerously teetering on the verge of becoming loudly angry, as opposed to one that displayed a lower warning.

"It wasn't for long, I was going to come right back!" she cried, already knowing the argument would not come up with her on top, despite her efforts.

"It's dangerous out there, Portia!" Amren exclaimed, gesturing above his head, "How many times do I have to tell you, we don't go up on the surface unless it's important. Are you going to tell me your little excursion was a matter of life or death?"

"No..." she faltered, lowering her gaze to her feet, focusing on the twin gold bangles that rested on her right ankle, wondering if she could simply let her father blow off steam without talking.

The man sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't have time for this, panik. I have important business to take care of, and you will stay here and attend to your lessons until I get back."

"Where are you going?" she asked, less out of curiosity and more out of the need to know whether or not he was going to do the exact same thing he had been reprimanding her for not even a minute earlier.

Amren sighed, debating keeping the information to himself, but knowing his daughter, she would find out either way, and it was far better for her to hear it from him, rather than from the mouth of one of the other children. "There's a situation on the surface. I won't be long, but it's very important, and it can't wait."

Portia couldn't help the scoff in the back of her throat, shrugging defensively as she watched him gather his things, her mind jumping to impossible options. A small part of her whispered that to get her father up on the surface was no easy feat, so it really must have been something urgent.

"What happened?" she asked, because the tides had turned in their argument and she was hungry to know why her father was rising to the surface.

The man paused to look out to the rest of their people gathering for the communal meal, hands passing shares of food around and laughter seasoning the group. It was as if he longed for something, the way he gazed with a burning look on his face, turning back to Portia.

"The Avatar needs our help."

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄

So here's the first chapter! It took me a while to get comfortable writing at first and I feel like things didn't smooth out until later so if the beginning feels a bit clunky then that's why. Portia is someone that has many layers and her relationship with her father is complicated but it'll be explained as we go along!

I recently found a few reliable sources for Inuit terminology (which will be the language of Portia's people, the Kiviuq) and I'm so happy, I'll be able to use the correct wording, so I'll provide a translation of the words at the bottom of each chapter they're used in. Keep in mind that our alphabets are very different and I'm using transliteration so please bear with me

Also! This may not be true today but older generations of Inuit children weren't allowed to call adults by their name out of respect so that's why the character will refer to each other using the Inuktitut terminology. But for the sake of things flowing smoothly I will refer to the adults using their names while writing.

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𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖘𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘

➊ ataata ━ father

➋ panik ━ daughter

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Thanks for reading!