I haven't watched any of these movies in a few years (except for twenty minutes of the prequel yesterday and one episode of the cartoon series, like, last week,) so I do not commit to remembering specific details. I may get things wrong.

So (don't) sue me.

Ariel sighed and closed her eyes, pressing the front of her body against the railing. She let the wind jostle her loose, deep red hair, pressing it into her face and eyes, brushing it against her shoulders and collarbone.

Light but cold, the breeze passed through her small frame, making her scrunch her nose as it blew against her nightgown.

She inspected her nails, something she'd never taken care to note until she'd emerged upon this surface world. Since her unity with the prince, she'd been taken in and poked at with instruments—frowned upon by odd women who seemed to always find more places to pry, insisting these things were requirements and she would become accustomed in time.

She didn't like the bright colours they'd set atop her nails. It seemed out of place, on her at least, and she didn't care for it nor the way most other things ran about in this palace.

She tucked a dark strand of hair behind her ear and pressed her cheek into the cold metal. She'd known things would be different here, of course. Perhaps not quite this different, and in so many ways. Once, she'd tapped against the side of the castle walls and pressed her ear to it, inquiring in her usual frank and curious manner, "Madam, why are there not any seaweed decorations? Nor seashell fixtures? It is all very odd."

The woman, at first, had patted down her seafoam green dress and looked about as if she hadn't heard.

She'd leaned closer. "Madam? Excuse me?"

Then she had blinked at her, lips parting in a bland smile, that even the young princess knew was false. "Well, if I may say so, perhaps it may seem odd to you—that is, Your Grace—but it is quite normal for us, not to have..." her face pinched. "... seashell fixtures, as such."

Ariel had nodded at her with one of her polite "thank you's," and the woman had scampered on her way. Even the stupid, naïve, all too young and uneducated and grotesque Ariel knew that was to be translated as: "Perhaps you are the one who is odd and unbelonging of a place so fine and grand. Perhaps you should be on your merry way, back to whatever underwater hole that birthed you. That is, Your Grace."

Ariel blinked herself out of her trance, looking to the skies, dark as the hide of a stingray. Small lights shone through, and sometimes she would look back and one wouldn't be there, as if they were shying away from the vastness of her newfound world. She slid down and sat on the cold cement, pressing herself against it and bringing her knees to her chest.

Sometimes, she thought of what would happen if she just fell into the sea. Just fell. She wondered if the ocean would reject her, as if she had changed too drastically to ever be a part of that world again. Perhaps, by some happenings of magic, she would find her tail again. She would be able to swim around, and frolic with Flounder and Sebastian, and all of her many beautiful sisters. There would be no one there to scowl at her, whisper things behind drapes of silk, or suppress laughter when she tried to grasp onto some of these many conventions, and failed.

Ariel lay down, breathing in the cold, taking solace in how it reminded her of home, how the simple sense of temperature could temporarily fill the void in her stomach, welling it up before seconds later robbing her of every warm sensation and leaving her emptier than ever.

She closed her eyes and attempted to expel all of these thoughts from her mind, but only partly succeeded. She pulled her thin shawl around her and pressed her fingertips against her eyes, gently wiping away the tears blotting at the corners of her eyes.

It was slowgoing, and she never noticed it, but the young princess dropped off into slumber, the caress of the waves as a bittersweet lullaby.

Sigh. Guilt at how short this is will probably make me write more.

Oneshot (?)