AN: I was a little stressed out about the overwhelming response to one of my Harry Potter fics (I just tapped into some serious hidden anger that rivals the hatred of Clana that I had no idea even existed), and was unable to write anything to do with the books at all. So I turned to my literary roots – my unholy and obsessive love of fairy tales! Hey, if Robin McKinley can do it ... It's just a very short thought from the Prince's point of view in the Little Mermaid. I'm not sure if she left the knife (my copy is buried so deep in my book shelves I think it may now be a permanent part of the wood paneling), but let us move forward assuming she did. Alright? Wonderful!
Disclaimer: I'm not sure who'd sue me at this point, but just in case, please don't!
He thought about her still. Not often, it's true, but sometimes.
One day, as he was led down a street in a carriage, he saw a young girl just outside the window. The girl's hair was the same color as hers, and she was twirling around to a pipe's music. And there, before his eyes, she was dancing in his ballroom, beautiful not only for her movements, but the sadness deep in her eyes.
On another occasion, he took the knife that had been left on his pillow the night she had disappeared from the drawer where it had lain, dusty and forgotten. When he tilted it just so, it was suddenly the same color as her skin.
Whenever he ventured out to sea, he felt close to her. He would half-turn, convinced he had heard her soft footsteps just behind him on the deck. He would start up at night, sure he felt her touch on his cheek. On those nights when he wandered at the edge of the rail, he saw her face reflecting from somewhere just below the water.
Mostly, though, he thought of her every time he heard a woman sing. This was the most ridiculous of all, because she had never had a voice.
AN: Ta-da! The shortest fic I have ever written, but it helped with the block. Love? Hate? Review!