Note: I wrote this about a year ago for my Mythology class; our teacher was so cool that he literally asked us to write Disney AUs with preferably darker twists. I also did one for The Beauty and the Beast and The Princess and the Frog (TPATF is super dark).
Ariel had never quite seen humans that looked so odd, if even that was possible; humans often looked ridiculous to her, with those legs that were useless for swimming and that stupid, wide-eyed expression they cast her way whenever one happened to see her. She'd always hiss at them to deter any further explorations, although her father had always warned against such antics. He'd been a firm believer in their isolation as a species, lecturing her and the rest of the family about how dangerous it was to approach mankind, how risky and foolish it was to merely even think about threatening them. Her father, though, wasn't around to reprimand her for terrorizing a few humans, or for being curious whenever one dipped below the ocean's mysterious surface; he, along with her sisters and mother, had been slaughtered just a year ago, caught in a net and taken to people who'd cut them all apart and discarded the slivers of their remains to a museum that would horrifically preserve them. Ariel had heard that from a dear friend; it was a blessing that she hadn't seen it for herself.
Today, though, she nearly confronted them, floating around in an ocean soon to be hers, donning black wetsuits and strange tanks on their backs, with the large goggles over their faces and the bubbles left in their wake as they swam with those pathetic excuses for fins, cameras held loosely in their curious grips. Ariel knew what cameras did; she'd swam to the surface once to see a couple strolling down the beach, skirting the border where the ocean foam mingled familiarly with the warm sand, laughing as they took snapshots of one another with a similar device.
On any normal day, she might have lingered before them for a moment to bask in their awe and fear, to please her own vanity, but the haunting grief over the loss of her entire family remained still and wouldn't let her be. It was hardening her; she could feel it. It almost made her feel completely unbothered by the task looming before her, the unspoken challenge, the silent burden weighing royal shoulders: with her parents gone, and with all of her older sisters dead at their sides, Ariel had been faced with becoming queen, and what that would both cost and give her, for the first time in her life. She'd never worried about it, of course; she'd never had reason to. As the youngest child in the family, she'd been safely comforted knowing her chances of taking a seat on the throne were nearly impossible, but now it was her reality.
There was only one thing in her way: a human life. It was no secret that taking a human life was one's only ticket to becoming ruler. It was, then, obvious that Ariel's parents had become murderers to rule over all the ocean, that her father had gone against his own isolationist beliefs, but they'd never told her how they'd done it. They'd only ever acted cold and distant when humans were mentioned, had only ever displayed contempt and instilled it in their children, yet Ariel felt almost hesitant to kill one. Almost. She hated them so fiercely, those humans; surely, they were all the same. Surely, one who could spill innocent blood could bear a similar spawn, or at least inspire such bloodlust in another and another until the chain was unstoppable, until they were all tainted. Surely, she could manage to kill one in order to take her rightful place on the throne. She could most definitely do it to gain back her voice, for Ariel was mute and had been since birth.
While all of her sisters had sung as they'd swum lazily through the water, while they had all chattered away to one another, she'd been left unfairly silenced. She'd never met a mute queen; they would be practically pointless if they couldn't use their power of command. The mermaid was certain that once she took her seat on the throne, her lost voice would return to her. Then, there was that pesky almost, nagging at the conscience that was just barely present. She almost lunged at the humans, almost reached at her side to grab the trident her father had given her which shrunk down to be held easily in the palm when unused.
Ariel almost did it, but at the very last moment she turned from them, angry at herself for being too reluctant to feel blood coating her palms. So, she hurried away from the divers and their endeavors, hoping to slip away unseen from behind the reef she'd been using as cover to spy on them. She didn't hear the click of the camera as she fled.
…..
Eric was certain the coffee was getting to him. Having stayed awake well into the night for the past two weeks, he'd had to shakily gulp down more and more coffee with each new day, blinking rapidly to prevent his eyelids from falling shut and keeping him from his work. The most recent diving excursion he'd neglected to go on had reaped new, intriguing photos that had had him at the computer each and every day, working diligently to discover the identity of the new creature captured in the pictures. He'd been sure, regrettably and unintentionally beginning to nod off with his elbows resting on the desk before him, that he'd heard music, though the research center was as quiet and still as death itself at four in the morning.
Several times he'd suspiciously turned to the aquarium against the far wall, with its lively collection of sea creatures and a single red crab he'd named Sebastian, where he could have sworn the music was emanating from. Whenever he'd glanced there, though, he'd merely seen his favorite fish innocently swimming about, the crustacean crawling lazily over the sand at the bottom of the tank. Yes, the coffee was definitely getting to him, and, apparently, so was the time. When last Eric had glanced quickly at the clock, he'd read that it was four-thirty, but he could hear the jangle of keys just outside the doors of the center, the click of the lock, and the whining creak as someone pushed them open.
He turned to look at the clock and realized he'd stayed up all night, frowning as his coworker, Lily, entered briskly, lab coat already shrugged onto one arm as she struggled to get it on the other while sipping her usual morning espresso. When she saw him, she rolled those familiar green eyes of hers and shook her head.
"Again?" she asked incredulously as she set her cup down at her desk and sat heavily in the stationary chair; they' had to switch out the one with rollers that she'd previously had, since she would roll around the entire lab annoying them all as they'd tried to focus on their work. She brushed an errant strand of blonde hair behind her ear and pushed up her glasses, giving him a distracted stare as she racked her brain for the password to her computer. Eric smiled at her and spun back around to gaze at the pictures, which had captured within them the oddly elongated body of a fish, missing its side fins and donning a strange loop of beads coiled just above the large, green tail fin.
Eric would have dismissed the photos if not for the beads that looked quite like pearls; fish couldn't wear jewelry. He heard the click of Lily's heels as she sidled over to him, casting a nosy glance over his shoulder at the screen.
"Maybe it's nothing, Eric? Maybe it's just a trick of the light," she ran a hand through her hair and he could see the reflection of the strands tumbling back down to frame her angular face, "By the way, what's my password?" He rolled his eyes and turned off his computer, getting up to pour himself another cup of coffee and wearily murmuring the password to her in passing.
"I just don't get it, Lily. I've been looking at the pictures for weeks, and I've got nothing. The divers won't tell me anything new, and they always act scared or something when I ask them," a drop of coffee splashed onto his finger and he reared back to wave his hand in the air frantically, cursing under his breath at the sharp burning, "Besides, even if it was just a trick of the light, I have no way of knowing…"
He trailed off and Lily stared at him expectantly for at least a dozen seconds, brow raised. She'd known Eric for years; they'd grown up together. They'd aspired to be Marine Biologists for as long as she could remember, and they'd gone to the same school and helped each other through it all. She knew his moments of sudden revelation well by now, and so she merely waited. Abruptly, he snapped his fingers and narrowly avoided sloshing his coffee as he rushed to her, grabbing her elbow excitedly.
"I haven't been diving in ages," he whispered, and she could just barely notice the beginning of a grin washing over his features.
…
Ariel gazed sadly at her fin, watching as the pearls bounced against the scales when she moved, glittering in the dim ocean light. It had been her mother's necklace, owned long ago when her parents first met, and had been passed down to her only. The other sisters had thought it unfair, she knew, but they'd always held their tongues. What she would give to hear them complain about it now, to hear anything of her dead family, lost to her completely. She sighed, frustrated at herself for becoming so emotional in the cavern of treasures she often found herself in.
It was a hollow column-like place she'd discovered once when she was younger, while rifling through the hidden treasures abandoned in wrecked and sunken ships. She'd stored them here and liked to come when she was feeling especially alone, to get away from the palace and all its inhabitants that liked to pressure her about becoming a queen. They didn't understand her grief; the deaths had only disrupted the surface of their sorrow, since they hadn't truly known the royal family. She had known them, had loved them all so deeply.
She'd been held in her father's arms when she was sixteen, the heartache over that boy eased by his comforting, warm words. Her mother had brushed her hair when she was a child, proudly talking about how at least one daughter had inherited her own red, bright hair. She'd gossiped and laughed and cried with her sisters, teased them relentlessly and had herself mocked countless times. She missed them so much that she feared the pain would never ease. What happiness could she gain from life, now that her only joy was gone? A tear slipped down her cheek and she felt the warm trail over her skin, hurriedly wiping it away. That familiar iron grip came over her heart, clamping down and tightening in her throat, and she was prepared to stifle the sobs she knew were coming.
She heard the familiar sound of static and clicks and glanced up, her grief morphing into rage in an instant. The divers. Quickly, her hold on the trident tightening, she bolted upright and swam out of the cavern, searching for the sight of them. As she avoided a large family of coral and swam over an even larger rock, she spotted them. It was just a single diver, and she stopped for a moment, surprised. They always traveled in groups; she wondered if the rest of them were waiting to strike out at her should she reveal herself, but she was truly already revealed, floating out in open water. The diver was turned away from her and didn't notice her presence as she inched closer, and she rushed forward, her anger flaring, intending to strike him while his back was turned, intending to exact her revenge and simultaneously earn her rightful place on the throne, but then he turned.
She stopped, blinking with sudden, unwarranted amazement. His own eyes cast a gaze of wonder upon her in that instant, and she'd never seen someone with such blue eyes. They were similar to her own in that they were bright and unmistakably intense, but she'd never known a human could have such sharp gazes as mermaids. She'd never known they could have anything in common at all. This thought convinced her upraised arm to lower, convinced her fingers to loosen their tight grip upon the trident just a bit, and convinced her to take a breath as they stared at one another. His dark hair floated loosely about his head, and his eyebrows were raised so high it was nearly laughable. He cast his gaze down to her tail, which was nearly as long as he was, and to the pearl necklace wrapped carefully at its base. He then saw the trident and she noticed a strange sparkle coming alive in his cerulean eyes.
…..
She had a fork. It was a hilarious oddity in the situation Eric had found himself in. He'd been trying to find any evidence of the strange creature in the pictures for a few days, searching fruitlessly, and then when he'd been about to abandon his tenth trip down under the sea, he'd turned to see her there before him, crimson hair spread around her and blue eyes so fascinating, the pale skin of her midriff fading into green scales and a fish's tail. She was a miracle, an amazing discovery, and she was clutching a fork in her hand as if she'd meant to stab him with it.
Slowly, she glanced down at the fork and frowned, and he was overwhelmed with the sudden desire to brighten her face. He started to reach out, not even completely certain if he was dreaming or not, if he was really seeing a mermaid, and she rushed backward as if he scared her, eyes wide and lips parted. He could just make out tips of fangs in her mouth, and swallowed nervous, foolishly aware that this was a creature that could most likely kill him with ease. He wasn't completely afraid, though, and felt that he would definitely need to prove this to Lily, so he raised his arms shakily and held the camera aloft, focusing in on her face and her fiery hair, snapping a picture loudly. She flinched, and he thought again that perhaps he wasn't the only one afraid, but after a moment he focused the camera on her tail, making sure to get the pearls in view.
Another snap, and he felt the lightest touch upon his fingers. It was silky and warm and he glanced up, startled, to find the mermaid touching his hand, her palm resting against the camera's side, her eyes seeming both curious and almost greedy. She pulled the camera up toward her, aiming the lens at her face. She glanced up at him, head tilted, and he didn't even check to make sure her head was in the frame; he merely stared, mesmerized, and took the photo. His heart raced as the corner of her mouth quirked upward; he felt his own mouth stretching into a grin, despite the mouthpiece between his lips.
…
He'd known her for a month now, diving nearly every day to see her, to learn about the ocean in a way he never before could. They'd gone swimming through the water, racing one another, and he'd almost caught sight of her smirk once during the time he'd just nearly beaten her. They'd explored shipwrecks and she'd even taken him to the oddest collection of items he'd ever seen, a place he guessed was hers. She'd made indentations in the walls, like shelves, to place each spoil that she found. Sometimes it was silverware, sometimes a small barrel of wet gunpowder, sometimes the tattered remains of clothes. He'd seen a variety of things that she seemed absolutely intrigued by.
She still carried that fork, and he'd given up trying to figure out why; perhaps it held sentimental value, he thought. She'd shown him seashells that he'd never seen before, and he'd noticed the tight gold bands wrapped around her biceps and neck, just above her collarbone, with barely contained awe, thinking her more beautiful with each new day. Sometimes, she'd brush her hair back behind her ear, which never stayed there for very long and seemed to prefer floating toward him, and reveal the gold strip that shaped itself into a V at her forehead, the point resting just above her nose and between her eyes.
During the second month of knowing her, she tried to take his mask off, and he'd gripped her wrists tightly, horribly afraid that if she'd moved her hands another inch he'd lose his oxygen and drown. Her gaze laughed at him.
In their fourth month, Lily bugged him constantly with questions of why he went diving each and every day, costing their facility so much money to the point that he'd had to get his own supplies and go diving with no team to help if something went wrong. He just told her that he'd picked up a new fondness for the ocean, which wasn't necessarily false.
…..
He took her to the surface, to a small little cove that he knew received no visitors, sitting at the edge of the shore where he could still dip his feet in the warm water, gratefully taking off his heavy respirator and goggles. He thought she wouldn't follow him, for a moment. He thought she'd sink back into the water and never meet him again. He thought he'd lost her; she folded her arms in front of her upon the ground and rested her chin atop them, gazing at him thoughtfully.
….
Ariel couldn't believe she'd let this happen: she was infatuated with a human. It seemed impossible and pathetic, and yet she enjoyed watching his reactions as she showed him her home. She enjoyed watching him, period. She'd broken the surface many times, had spent nearly whole days enjoying the cool wind ruffling her hair and warm sun shining at her back, but it was different now. With him so close, looking so comfortable in his element, she still couldn't bring herself to kill him; she'd never want to, now. He smiled when she relaxed against the shore, and she felt a blush ghosting over the tops of her cheeks, warm blood betraying her mood. She couldn't believe that she had hesitated that day, that she'd let him turn around and gaze at her with those expressive eyes, that she'd befriended him, no less.
He laughed, and the sudden noise startled her. She glanced back his way to see that silly grin, and he shook his head.
"You're a mystery, aren't you?" he asked gently, and she knew she'd never again hear a voice she so desperately wished to memorize more.
….
He established it as their meeting place, and on the third time they went there, Eric tried to get her to say something, but she only shook her head sadly, gesturing to her throat. He guessed she was unable to talk, and wanted to ask if that was a trait all mermaids had, but he could never bring himself to put such a possible offense into words.
So, they began the most intense game of charades he'd ever played, and by the end of the year, Eric had gleaned nearly everything about her except for her name; he could never guess it. He knew that she was royalty, that her family was dead, and that she was going to become queen. He knew that her fork was really a weapon that looked like something Poseidon would carry, if he existed-but Eric was wary of doubting anything now that he'd met a mermaid. He told her of the aquarium he had at work, and how he always thought he was going insane at the mysterious sound of music; she'd always smile knowingly when he complained about it, her expression almost teasing. He told her of his best friend, Lily, and of all the adventures they'd had as children. He promised her that he'd track down where her family was being displayed and return them to her. He told her how deeply he enjoyed going to her place of treasures, and how he liked sitting there with her and talking. She smiled shyly when he told her, blue eyes wide and unblinking for just a moment, her face caught in an expression somewhere between tenderness and pleasant surprise. He always felt warmed by that look.
…..
She grew very fond of him, and if her subjects gave her odd stares as she merrily swam through the palace, she didn't notice. If they gossiped about what could possibly be going on, about how long it was taking her to kill a human, then she didn't hear them. She only thought of Eric, and the crown was in the far recesses of her mind, it and its responsibility tucked safely away for later ponderings that wouldn't come.
…
Lily had just assumed he was in love and had stopped trying to investigate, but the phase of blessed silence had quickly become the phase of attempting –to-meet-the-girl. He'd often shrug her questions away, trying to focus and do his job, but the distracting thought of her, the mystery mermaid, wouldn't leave him be. Instead of staying up all night looking at photos of a strange tail, he stayed up all night looking at photos of a certain redhead who smiled at the camera. Instead of being distantly annoyed by the music in the lab, he began to enjoy it, forfeiting his attempts to discover the source in favor of just listening to it and even singing along. It vaguely reminded him of her.
…..
He had questioned her just a mere handful of times about how she could become a queen, and Ariel had always shied away from the subject, not wanting him to know about what atrocity she'd nearly dealt him that day, about what she still had to accomplish.
Until one day, when she had to stay cooped up in the palace, she went to the coral gardens her mother used to admire so greatly to clear her mind, wanting to avoid the political nonsense she'd been dragged into that day. It was foolish, her aching heart, to be in such a state over a human; the council had deemed Ariel unfit for the throne unless she became queen in a matter of only a month. They wouldn't allot her any more time, and she felt hopeless. She could never kill Eric; it would break her, but if she killed another human, her guilt at having realized there could be one that didn't deserve it, and therefore many that didn't, would gnaw at her. Then, there was the third horror: Eric could discover what she'd done and abandon her entirely. It was a horrible pain to be torn in such a fashion, and she wished in a moment of cruelty that she'd never met him, knew that he hadn't brought her to this but denied truly accepting it all the same. Seated by a particularly vivid collection of coral, she sighed forlornly, knowing that she'd have to tell him eventually.
….
It was an especially difficult and complicated game of charades that they played, and it involved Eric tripping and falling into the ocean without his gear on; his only salvation was gentle arms pulling him toward the surface. It involved him attempting to coax her into trying coffee, his favorite drink, and her sitting near him on the shore, her tail mostly submerged, bumping her shoulder playfully against his while he tried to decipher what she wanted him to know.
When he eventually figured it out, after two weeks of attempts, he was floored; she had to kill someone to become queen. He even guessed that was why she'd approached him, why she'd seemed as if she was going to strike him with her trident. She would have killed him that day, but something had changed. He fleetingly thought of Lily and her badgering about who he was in love with and guessed what exactly about the mermaid had changed, with equal measures of joy and discomfort. She hadn't killed him because she'd fallen in love with him, but that didn't mean she wouldn't kill someone else. He frowned over at her, trying to ignore her guilty and nervous gaze.
"How do I know you don't plan on killing someone? It's the only way, right?" Eric asked her casually, or while attempting to sound even remotely casual. She still flinched anyway, and shook her head wildly, her eyes sincere.
He watched her carefully, and after a moment asked, "So you don't want to kill anyone, and yet you have to become queen?" She took his hand in hers and smiled graciously, nodding gently, and he noticed the ghost of sadness in her gesture; she was trapped.
…
Eric went to the lab instead of his apartment, preferring the atmosphere at so late in the night. Lily and everyone else had gone home, and he suddenly wished for her presence, wished for her consolation and her advice, although Eric had practically already decided; it was just a matter of accepting his decision, which seemed to him both incredibly chivalrous and ridiculously stupid. He'd known the mermaid-it seemed foolish to keep calling her the mermaid- for nearly two years now, and it surprised him how willing he was to do what he thought he was prepared to do; it was almost frightening how quickly she could change him. He remembered the promise he'd made her, a promise to return her family, and he was so close to that goal that it was almost painful to have decided something that would make those efforts futile.
Giving up on serious thought, Eric sipped his coffee, feeling distanced from it, feeling distanced from his computer and his work and even the lab he'd gotten to know so well in the years he'd worked there. He felt so far away from it all, all except the aquarium full of its oblivious, content sea life, and her face coming in flashes to his mind's eye.
….
Ariel hadn't seen Eric for nearly two weeks. It was like a robbery, a wrong-doing, a theft of ultimate horror; she needed him, now more than ever, to be there when her potential to rule over her kingdom was lost, when she'd feel the guilt at having disappointed her family, when she'd be at her worst. She needed him to be her support and she hadn't seen him, and for all she knew he had truly left her, appalled by his discovery. It would serve her right for ever even thinking about killing someone.
The next day, Ariel swam up to their meeting place and waited for him, as she did every day, with feeble hope. She almost thought it was a trick of the light when she saw him walking down the beach toward her, donning his scuba gear and a sad, almost defeated gait. She frowned, her smile stifled, and reached out to take his hand when he got near enough, glancing at him with what he'd coined her "puppy dog face." His skin was warm and she felt him shiver, but she'd been around him long enough to realize that it wasn't exactly a shiver of fright. He knelt down toward her and squeezed her hand comfortingly.
"I'm sorry I wasn't around; I had to sort some things out," he explained gently, and she noted the melancholic tone of his voice, pulling him toward her as if being closer would allow her some insight. He only chuckled and brushed the wet hair out of her face with practiced tenderness, smiling gingerly at her concern. He sat down and placed his feet in the water, staring contemplatively out at the open sea before them, and sighed quietly.
"I'm going to say something, and I don't want you to try to persuade me against it, alright?" Eric softly murmured, and Ariel, not knowing what else to do, nodded hesitantly.
"You only have a few days left before your chance at being queen is gone, and I don't want you to kill anyone. So, I'm offering myself-"
Ariel shot up out of the water as far as she was able, taking his hands and shaking her head furiously, frowning so deeply that he felt his sadness multiply. He slowly guided her back toward the water, but her expression of intense disagreement remained.
"Take me down there; I want to be down there, with you," he brushed away a tear that had slipped down her face with the pad of his thumb, "and you can kill me and get it over with, become a queen." She mouthed his name, continuing to cry with her silence overwhelming, and he pulled her toward him, embracing her and inhaling her scent of the ocean and something sweet he'd never been able to identify. He smiled against her cheek, nearly chuckling, and she felt the rumble of it against her.
"I just wish I could have guessed your name," he murmured wistfully, and she shook her head as she reluctantly pulled away from his arms, reaching over to grab a stick between those graceful fingers, drawing a word in the sand.
Ariel, it read, and Eric looked quizzically at it, his brow furrowed as he glanced back up at her. She wore a sheepish smile and he started to laugh so greatly that tears started pouring from the corners of his eyes, and he wasn't entirely convinced that they were due to the hilarity of what she'd just done. He put on his goggles and held the mask far above his head to avoid getting it wet as he dropped into the ocean, using Ariel and the shore as anchors to keep himself up above the water. She glanced at him through her tears, curious.
"All this time, and you could write," he pointed out laughingly while slipping on his mask and turning the oxygen on. Ariel took that as a cue and greedily wrapped her arm around his waist, knowing it would be one of her last chances to see him before her. They dove under the surface and finally made their way to the cavern of treasures, slipping inside in quiet, horrible resignation. Ariel couldn't stop staring at him, couldn't believe that he would do this for her, and yet here he was, turning to her with the most expectant gaze she'd ever seen, blue eyes alert and knowing. Slowly, Eric removed his oxygen tank and mask, and tossed his goggles to the ocean floor, coming to float near her. He laid his palms on top of her shoulders and carefully pulled her toward him, his chest no longer rising and falling with breath, his lips pressed to hers in a soft, parting gesture. He smiled at her, dark hair floating around him, blue eyes as bright as they'd been on the day she'd met him.
Sorrowfully, she removed the trident from her satchel and stared at it, tears still pouring down her cheeks. His hand came and wrapped around her wrist with the gentlest of touches, and he guided it to where his heart rested behind his ribcage, nodding. She called upon its power and the trident elongated, pressed against his wetsuit. It took all of her strength to lunge forward, to bring the trident with her, to not collapse at his feet and beg for forgiveness, to not forsake it all and shrink away from her duty.
The breath left him just as the trident pushed past bone and muscle and sinew, and his eyes widened noticeably as he clutched at her hand, a pained expression crossing his face. The water around him was stained dark, and it curled over him and up out of sight, a light line of red carried off in the current. She pulled the weapon as gently as she could out of his heart, throwing it against the far wall carelessly. Eric's body plummeted through the water and she just barely caught him before he hit the bottom, sinking softly to the floor with his lolling head in her lap, his eyes closed.
Even as she felt the power surge through her, as she felt the waters shift and change to accommodate her new, commanding presence, all she could hear was the wailing of a woman. She realized it was her own cries and only sobbed harder, pulling his lifeless body toward her, wrapping him in her arms and rocking him back and forth with the utmost care.
This would destroy her, she knew. When she left his body there to rot away, when she returned to the palace with blood on her hands, she would be hollow. That was her price.
In her grief she didn't see the wound knit itself together, leaving only a puckered, jagged scar across his chest. She didn't feel his movement, didn't see his legs morph together to resemble a tail like her own. She didn't hear his sharp intake of breath, or feel the flutter of his eyelids against her cheek.
It was in her throes of grief that she heard the soft, weak murmur: "Ariel."
She bolted upright, staring down at familiar blue eyes as she felt something brush against her tail. She glanced over to see a green tail fin lying atop hers, and she nearly broke down into tears of a different kind, caught up in her disbelief as Eric sat up from the ocean floor, beaming at her and examining his new body with obvious wonder.
"How is this possible?" he asked breathlessly, and Ariel was glad that she was able to answer him, a sudden, bright feeling of happiness coming over her as the realization dawned in her mind.
"You gave your own life, just as I took it. We had equal parts in killing you, Eric!" she explained excitedly, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him toward her, so that she could feel the reality of it, feel his skin under her fingers and see him blinking and witness the rise and fall of his chest. He pulled her hands toward his mouth and kissed her knuckles, laughing.
"You have a beautiful voice," he said seriously, and her blush was an open display that she didn't, for once, mind.
…..
If a certain letter had been left for a certain best friend at a certain lab with specific instructions, it mattered not. If items in a sea life exhibit had been stolen from a certain museum, it was inconsequential. If said items had been deposited by a certain cheery blonde into a certain part of the ocean where awaited two specific mer-people, it went unnoticed.
If Ariel felt any grief at burying her family, it was quelled, in part, by the hand at her waist, the embrace when she turned from their graves, the warm voice speaking nothing but words of support and condolence. If a small, yellow and blue guppy was adopted by a certain royal couple, then it was a comfort to the both of them as they sat upon their thrones.
If, in the darkness of night, a sweet, melodious song could be heard drifting through the halls of the palace, and if a deep, affectionate murmur could be detected beneath its pitch, then it was of no consequence at all.
I don't really know how this went. I took a break from writing short stories a long time ago (and picked up fic writing) but I'm starting to think I might get into it again, sometime. This is technically fanfic, but when I was writing it, it didn't feel that way.
Feedback of any kind is always appreciated.