Hi all! After a few crazy months, I'm back in action. This is going to be an ongoing fic - each chapter will be an individual story. Some may just be drabbles, while others may be much more fleshed out. Recommendations are welcome, just drop a PM or review. Happy Holidays, let me know what you think!
-Converse r life
A sudden jolt forced Eric's eyes to open, his hand automatically reaching for the sword at his hip. His heart rate sped up, and he could only hear the blood rushing through his ears. It wasn't until his hand closed tightly around the hilt that sense started to return to him, eyes blinking in the darkness.
He was in the carriage, he quickly ascertained, on the way back to the palace. He didn't remember falling asleep, but obviously he had somewhere along the way. There was no threat, only bumps in the road.
His hand that was still gripping the sword's hilt went slack. He sighed, realizing that he'd overreacted. He tried to shift his body, tiredly deciding that he wanted to get back to his nap.
In doing so, however, the person laying on him made a sound of disapproval.
A smile curved at the corners of his lips as he looked down at his lap and realized Ariel was currently using him as her pillow. Her long hair was spread in every direction, bangs having fallen and now covering half her face. Her dark cloak was thrown over her like a blanket, but he could still see one of her bare shoulders peeking out. One leg dangled off the seat, the foot missing its shoe, while her left arm had fallen as well.
He brushed her bangs back, exposing a closed eye and part of her cheek. She gave a sleepy murmur of approval this time, moving her face towards the warmth of his hand. She was fast asleep, he realized, and his grin widened.
Not too long ago, being so intimate towards her would have caused quite a stir. As it was they'd barely dodged the rumors of partaking in some rather scandalous activities.
Then again, Eric considered as he caught the glint of gold around her ring finger in the moonlight, they'd only been wed for three months.
"Are you sure it's not broken? It sure feels like it." Eric complained, stretching out his right hand fingers slightly, before hissing in pain.
"Positive, your highness," Doctor Berg responded, rifling around through some cabinets in the infirmary. "It's just a good bruising on your knuckles, it shouldn't take anymore than a few days to heal."
"I suppose I'll just be left-handed for the rest of the week," Eric said, frowning down at his swollen hand. "Although, I'm sure if I practice enough eventually I could hold a pen without it hurting too much."
"That might be difficult, sir, considering your hand will be bandaged," the doctor replied, having since found the bandages and holding them up for Eric to see.
The prince made a face, immediately letting his injured extremity retreat. "I am not getting my hand wrapped up."
"With all due respect, sir, that would be a poor decision," Doctor Berg started, walking back towards the infirmary bed Eric was sitting on. "Your hand will heal faster if it's not jostling around."
"It's not manly to walk around looking like I'm some idiot who doesn't even know how to throw a punch, though." Eric replied, eyes darkening at the very idea.
Doctor Berg opened his mouth to reply, then thought better of it. It was a silly line of reasoning, yes, but that meant little in the scheme of things. He neither had the authority or the audacity to overrule his prince, especially when it was something so trivial.
But there was one person who would.
And he could hear their running steps already.
Knowing what was about to occur, Doctor Berg took a step back. Then, just to be safe, he took two more.
The door to the infirmary swung open, crashing against the wall heavily. All Eric saw was a blur of red, before he had the wind knocked out of him. Amidst a tangle of limbs, he fell back against the bed, thankfully having enough foresight to keep his hand up and away.
"Ariel," he choked out, wheezing as he tried to capture his breath, "Too…tight…can't…"
She loosened her hold on him, but instead of letting go completely, gripped his shirtfront with worry. She was half lying across him, and half standing, an awkward sort of position. But she had more important things to think about.
"Are you okay?" She demanded, not waiting for a reply. "I heard you got hurt! I'm the one who gets hurt; you're supposed to be the one that stays away from it! Then I heard you were in the infirmary and—stop laughing!"
Despite the fact that she could have knocked him out cold, Eric started to chuckle at her hasty explanation, which led her, in turn, to pout. "I'm serious, I was so worried. What did you even hurt? You look fine to me!"
He propped himself up on his elbows, using his good hand to gently lower hers from their grip on his shirt, and moving his body slightly to give Ariel a bit of room to sit on the bed. "How was your fitting?"
She made a face; he laughed again. "I still don't see why I need to keep getting fitted, it's not like I'm growing or anything, and she's always grouching about how—wait! You're trying to change the subject!"
"The color of that dress really brings out your eyes," he said in response, smiling far too innocently.
She gave him a narrow stare, crossing her arms over her chest. He always tried to flirt when he was avoiding her questions. She slid off of him, and sat on the bed itself, turning across the room to the doctor.
If he wasn't going to tell her, then someone else would. "What did he do?"
"He punched Lord Rocesser in the face, Your Highness," Doctor Berg answered, ignoring the pleading look from Eric not to tell. "He bruised his right knuckles in the process."
Ariel's brows shot up, her mouth hanging open in surprise. She turned back to her husband, clearly not having expected that as the answer. "You punched him?!"
"It's really not as bad as it sounds," Eric replied, fidgeting and keeping his gaze down, like a child whose hand was caught in the cookie jar.
"Did he try to punch you first?"
"Well, no…"
"Did he say something mean to you?"
"Not particularly…."
"Then what happened?!" She asked again, clearly exasperated.
Eric sighed, running his left hand through his dark hair. It had been a long day. He looked towards Doctor Berg, avoiding Ariel's anxious eyes, asking, "Can we have a few minutes alone, please?"
It was a dismissal, but a kind one at least. The physician let his eyes flicker back between the prince and his princess, before nodding. There really wasn't any other option, besides saying yes.
"As you wish, sir," he answered, but handing Ariel the bandages in the process. She blinked, accepting them, not understanding why. "See if you can convince him to have his hand wrapped up, Princess, he won't listen to me."
Ariel cast a glance back at her husband, who gave her a sheepish look. She rolled her eyes, determinedly gripping the cloth in her hands now. "Don't worry, I will."
"I have no doubt about it," the doctor muttered, more to himself than anything, as he left the infirmary, this time gently closing the door behind him.
The quiet in the room enveloped the couple. While Eric really didn't mind it, he counted the seconds until his young wife would break the calm. He was at forty-three when she finally sighed, speaking up.
"Why did you punch Lord Rocesser?" She asked finally, reaching for his good hand. She curled her fingers around it for just a second before he pulled away; she frowned.
"It was a gentlemen's disagreement, that's all." He answered, her favorite grin tight across his face.
She studied him for a moment, her frown deepening. "Eric."
"Ariel." His voice held the warning, the pleading, for her to just drop the subject.
"Was it something about me? Is that why you don't want to talk about it?" She wondered slowly, as though coming to this realization as she spoke it out loud.
He said nothing, instead choosing to focus on his still swollen hand.
She sighed again. "We've been through this; I'm a big girl, Eric. I can take it."
He looked back at her, eyes unaccustomedly serious. "It's one man's idea, that's all."
"And he has a right to it, but that's still avoiding telling me what he said," she responded, carefully making sure she didn't put too much emotion into this. If he thought she couldn't take criticism, he'd keep hiding these things from her forever, and she should know. "Please, Eric."
He sighed this time, shoulders dropping. She'd worn down his defenses. "We were just having a discussion, back and forth, and I mentioned that the king of Corona and his wife were expecting. And he made a joke about…well…"
"About…?" She prodded, wanting to get to the root of the problem.
"About how…I think he said something like 'If the rumors are true, then your wife will have a new baby even earlier than they will' and…I don't know, I just lost it."
Ariel's brows fixed together. "That doesn't make any sense, how would I get a new baby before they did?"
Eric grimaced. "He's implying that you were…expecting, before we were married."
There were many things Eric expected when he explained. He expected her to blush at the shock of it. She might have even stammered, or at least been very hurt at the implication.
Instead, she snorted with laughter, immediately covering her mouth. Eric looked at her with confusion, which made her only start to laugh harder. She wiped away the tears from her eyes, biting her bottom lip hard so that she wouldn't giggle any more.
"That's it? That's what made you punch him?" She asked, still fighting back her laughter as much as possible.
"What do you mean "that's it"?!" He indignantly questioned. "He's practically saying that you and I were—!"
"No, I know, I know," she replied, still grinning at the idea. "It's just…it's so ridiculous."
"Of course it is, but it doesn't make it any less inappropriate." Eric said, almost suspiciously, as though he was still waiting for her to laugh again. Then, as an idea sprung up in his mind, he swallowed hard, asking, "Wait, you're not…?"
Ariel's eyes flew wide, almost alarmed. "What? No! Of course not, we've only been married a month!"
He gave a relieved sigh, wrapping his good arm around her, and pulling her close. "I just don't like it. I don't want people to call your honor into question."
"It's a silly rumor, Eric. You can't get overworked, much less punch someone because of it." She replied, obviously not impressed with his show of force. "Besides, you and I both know the truth."
"But you didn't hear the way he said it. It was like he actually believed it! I couldn't just let him…you're so much more than what he thinks." He responded, his words marked with sharpness at the notion.
She twisted her lips, thinking, as she brushed her bangs away from her face. She moved away from him, jumping off the end of the bed so that she could look at him better. "Don't use me to excuse your actions. You know the gossip will probably die down soon, once it becomes pretty obvious that I'm not expecting anything."
He deflated at her words. "I thought you would be proud that I tried to defend you."
"I never said I wasn't proud," she protested, taking what she assumed to be his injured hand in her own. He cringed at the initial pain her soft probing fingers created. "I just don't want you hurting your hand anymore. As it is, you're going to have a hard time writing out an apology to him."
"I know I will," he sighed, before perking up, wonderingly, not realizing that she was still assessing his injured hand. "But you did appreciate that I stood up for you, right?"
"You could say that," she answered, a smiling hinting on her lips. She started to bandage his hand herself, tightly, but with some wiggle room. "You could also say that I hope you know how to undo knots one handed."
"One handed?" He questioned, realizing what she was doing, but far more interested in what she was suggesting.
She said nothing, instead arching her back slightly, as though she was stretching, and exposing the small, neatly tied bow at the bottom of her bodice.
He grinned.
It was a curious thing, being married. He'd never given sharing his room, his dog, his life, with someone else much thought. His own parents had led separate lives, like acquaintances most of the time; sometimes he wondered what they would have said about Ariel.
The grin fell from his face, a fissure appearing between his brows as he thought deeply, focusing on the small window. He had a sinking feeling, though he'd never tell Ariel, that his parents would not have approved of the match. She was the most sincere, and not to mention beautiful, person he'd ever met, yet…she wasn't exactly "conventional".
Not that he minded.
But his parents…well, suffice it to say, he was mildly surprised there'd been no reports of the late king or queen rising from the dead when bells across the land had rung in celebration.
He looked back down at his wife, wincing. She hated when he made tasteless jokes about his deceased parents. And when she thought he wasn't looking, he could see the troubled worry in the corner of her eyes.
"Checkmate," Ariel declared, rather smugly as her queen took the last piece from her opponent.
Eric stared at the board, feeling dumbfounded and defeated. "How do you keep doing that?"
"Because you keep making it easy," she answered, already setting up the board for another round. "Besides, the rules are pretty similar to Atlantica's version of the game, and I used to play Daddy all the time. I'm sure you played with your parents too."
"Moving the pieces is a bit of a problem when they're six feet under," he said dryly. "But then, no one said it would be easy to play against a gravestone."
Ariel paused, a knight hovering just above the black space she would have put him. Worriedly she said, "You know, you only ever talk about your parents in dark jokes."
He looked at her, perplexed. "'Only ever'? We've barely been married two weeks, and only known each other for a little over a month and a half; I've maybe mentioned them three or four times."
"And each time, it's been with grim humor," she responded, sighing. "I wish you wouldn't talk about them that way."
"Why does it upset you so much?" He wondered as a way of response. "They were my parents, and I don't mind it much."
She fidgeted with the knight still in her hand. "I just don't like it. It's not right to make light about the situation."
It was his turn to sigh now, glancing at the window, and realizing that sunlight was starting to stream back in. "Can we not talk about this? The rain seems to have cleared, let's go to the beach."
She looked, for a moment, like she wanted to press the situation, but instead gave up. "Alright then."
A smile lit back up on his face, and he grabbed her hand, apparently ready to leave. But it was hard to miss the concern still evident in her features.
He never had to worry about her being completely up front with him, he mused, stroking her bare shoulder. She shifted slightly at the new sensation, but settled almost immediately, lost in whatever dreams she found herself in. He hoped they were good ones.
There were things he loved to ask her, about Atlantica, about growing up a mermaid, about adventures he could hardly fathom. Often he felt that for as many (and there were a lot) questions she asked him throughout the day, he asked the same amount.
Yet, there were things he carefully avoided asking, somehow knowing that it would only pain her more. He knew homesickness had hit her hard, and he could see the odd, almost magical lure the sea still held over her.
A consistent knock at the door that turned out not to be the woodpecker in his dream, but rather happening in real life, made Eric groggily sit up. He rubbed his half lifted eyes, yawning. Jerkily, he stumbled out of bed, having enough foresight in him to find a way to his dresser and pull out a shirt.
Pulling it over his head as he walked, he yawned again, opening the door.
"Yes?" He asked, grumpily and wanting to return to his comfortable bed.
"Sorry to disturb you, sir," a guard not much older than he said, his voice quiet. "But, er…she fell asleep on the beach, and we weren't sure if it was alright to leave her there or…"
For a moment, in his still very sleep addled mind, Eric could not comprehend what the man was saying. Slowly, it started to form together, like a puzzle, and it all fit together when he saw a young woman fast asleep in the guard's arms.
A young woman with long red hair, tied in a braid, and dressed only in a nightgown.
Or rather, his wife.
He sighed, reaching over immediately to take her. The young guard seemed all too eager to hand her over, most likely made very uncomfortable about the entire situation. She seemed to instinctively know that it was now her prince holding her, for she curled into his chest, fingers closing around the fabric of his shirt through her sleep.
"Thank you for bringing her back," Eric said, a bit more awake now as he nodded towards the man. "If that's all—"
"Actually, Your Highness," the guard cut in, a bit nervously. He was one of the newer recruits, a bit on the stocky side, and probably around Ariel's height. "I—I know the Captain says he has orders, from you, sir, not to interfere if the princess is walking around the palace and ends up going to the beach at night, but…"
"Yes?" Eric asked again, this time sharply.
He braced himself for his orders to be undermined, perhaps looked at through a hard lens. After all, it wouldn't be the first time in the nearly three months since their wedding that someone expressed their misgivings about his going about certain things when it pertained to his wife.
"Well, Your Highness, sir, I, um, overheard her crying, sir, and…uh…" Here the guard swallowed hard, as though thoroughly intimidated by Eric's single raised brow. "I mean, sir, I know for me, t-the homesickness isn't as bad whenever I can write to everyone, and they write back, and—and I know it's different, Your Highness, sir, because the princess is—well, but if there's a way she could get to talk back and forth with her family, I-I think it might help."
Eric appraised the guard for a long moment, watching as the man fidgeted, obviously mortified that he'd shared something so personal, and had even given the mere proposition to his ruler.
He looked down at Ariel, noting the flecks of sand that stuck out through her unruly hair. He sighed again; this was the second time this week. Although the guards had strict orders to watch her once she was down by the water (she wasn't a very strong swimmer on legs), he couldn't keep requesting that they abandon their posts to focus on her nighttime sojourns to the sea. Not to mention that she still hadn't told him about her homesickness, or how she slipped out of bed some nights, and he feared it was starting to get out of hand.
He looked back at the guard, nodding with firm resolve. "If it'll help, I'm willing to try it. Thank you for the suggestion."
The guard looked almost too relieved. He quickly bowed low, hurrying off as though the prince might change his mind.
Eric, in turn, closed the door with a soft thud using his foot, and, after placing her back in bed, curled in himself. In the morning, he needed to figure out how to send a message to Atlantica.
Her sisters were a riot, all six of them. They'd been slow to warm up, but that was to be expected, and it appeared that as of now they almost seemed to like him. Of course, they also thought his swimming was the funniest thing they'd ever seen, mimicking the way his arms and legs had moved underwater.
King Triton was…well, he was King Triton. He was as intimidating as father-in-laws come, to be perfectly honest. Though, Andrina swore that the king liked him, because if he didn't, his head would be a great trophy in the throne room.
Attina said to ignore her younger sister, stating that it was only a joke.
Eric wasn't sure if he could believe that she was just kidding.
It was an amazing feeling, however, to have a sense of family again. In her he'd found a best friend, and in her family, well, people who accepted him, despite their misgivings. He had a feeling it was more out of devotion towards Ariel than anything, but the thought was there, and it was enough.
Of course, he mused, grinning ruefully as her lips moved silently in her dream, he was looking at it all through rose-colored glass. Not everything was perfect in their marriage, and they could fight so hard he was sure the shingles on the palace roofs shook.
"What is your problem?" Ariel irritably asked, shaking off his hand from her arm, after being half-dragged to the portrait gallery.
He looked at her incredulously. "My problem?"
"Yes, your problem!" She snapped. "You drag me in here while there are guests waiting for us in the dining hall and don't even give me an answer when I asked you four times what was wrong!"
"You were way out of line, that's what was wrong!" His eyes were blazing, his teeth gritting together in an attempt not to yell. "The Duke of Haglen made one little comment about the new restrictions on fishing—"
"He said sea creatures are insignificant when compared to humans!"
"—and you got into an argument with him!"
"I just told him that maybe he'd want to watch his words better next time, otherwise I'd make sure that he's on the receiving end of a hook, suffocating to death!"
"Then you told him if he had a problem, he could take it up with your father, the Sea King!" Eric replied, now exasperated.
She lifted her chin in defiance. "Well Daddy would set him straight all right!"
"So what, if someone disagrees with you you're going to bully them? Is that it?"
"Those are my friends he was talking about!" Her voice had risen now, defensiveness creeping into her tone as she realized he had a fair point, but she was not willing to let this go so easily.
"They're fish, Ariel! That's it, just fish!" His own voice rose as well to meet hers.
"How dare you—!"
"And while we're on the subject, some great friends to not want to visit you, or even write a letter!" He declared, now wheedling his statements around in an attempt to hurt her. "Oh, wait, I'm sorry, I forgot that it must be hard to write with only fins!"
She stood her ground, eyes on fire with untold anger. "You're just jealous that I got to experience an amazing childhood and do as I pleased while you were holed up in this dingy palace!"
"Oh, yes, really jealous," he scoffed, holding no merit to her words, though they dug deep under his skin. "Tell me again how amazing it was to know that you were number seven, the most irrelevant of your sisters if there ever was one!"
"You leave my sisters out of this!" She shrieked, her temper lashing out at him like a whip. "You think you're so special, Prince Eric saved poor little Ariel from a terrible sea witch, and then married the sad little mermaid for three whole months; well, fine, keep your dumb story! Tell the whole world for all I care! You and I both know that you need me if you ever want to get your stupid crown, and you can tell that to everyone still out there when they ask why I refused to come back!"
Without so much as a parting glance, she turned on her heel, leaving him momentarily stunned. It wasn't until she slammed the door behind her that he snapped out of it.
His fists balled up beside him, as he yelled at the door, "Well, fine, be that way! Just run away from your problems, that seems to be the only thing you can do!"
The door reopened so fast that he barely had time to dodge a shoe thrown at his shoulder. He straightened up, jeering, "Ha! You missed—"
The other shoe hit him squarely in the head. He stumbled back a few steps, eyes wide in shock more than pain. With a satisfied 'hmph' he heard her slam the door again, her footfalls echoing in the opposite direction of the dining room.
He stayed in the portrait gallery for a few more minutes, trying to calm down enough. He didn't feel that the skin has split on his head, so that was good, although it would probably leave a bit of a bump. Their first marital spat, and it could not have gone worse.
In a moment of spiteful immaturity, he kicked one of her shoes so hard that it hit the opposite wall, the heel cracking in the process.
Somehow, it didn't make him feel any better to know that he'd broken it.
He straightened out his uniform, and pushed back his hair. Right, he had to go back out. He'd just explain that Ariel was under the weather, and had retired for the night. What was she suffering from? A bad case of stubbornness, that's what he'd say if they pressed.
Just as he made up his mind and had the excuse settled, there was a tentative knock on the door. For a moment, he thought it was her, realizing that she'd made a mistake and had come back. He crossed his arms over his chest, smirking at the idea.
"Yes?" He asked, his tone already gloating.
Slowly the door opened, but it wasn't Ariel; instead it was a male servant, cautiously saying from the safety of the doorway, "Pardon, Your Highness, but we…ah…that is to say, the staff thought you'd like to know that…er…loud voices tend to carry on this side of the palace, because the old stone walls are a bit…well, noises tend to bounce off them."
For a moment, Eric's brows furrowed. Then, as something clicked into place, his arms fell down to his sides, his face paling at the thought. "You mean…everyone in the dining room just heard that?"
The servant nodded slowly, wide-eyed and swallowing hard, as he had been the one to draw the short straw and had to inform the prince. The staff may be loyal to him, and not want to send him out there without a clue, but that wasn't to say they enjoyed giving out bad news either.
Eric let his face fall into the palms of his hands. Then, he muttered out a string of profanity so vile even the servant had to blush.
That fight had barely been a week before, Eric thought, listening to the steady sounds of clip-clopping coming from the horse. They'd gotten over it pretty quickly, both apologizing with rushed tones about how they hadn't meant what they'd said, it had just been meant to hurt the other in a moment of anger. Then, they'd made up in a way that had been proving to be very…practical.
Yes, he thought with a chuckle, practical seemed like a good enough word to use.
In any case, however, all those memories had led to this moment, where he was leaning comfortably against the carriage wall, his wife still asleep atop him, and his fingers still mindlessly stroking her shoulder.
It had been a surprise, something he'd managed to keep under wraps for the past two days, although she'd been quite suspicious.
All she'd known was that it would be a night out, but other than that she'd been left in the dark.
"Sir, the carriage is ready to leave whenever you are," a guard said, bowing in respect as he came up on the prince.
Eric nodded, acknowledging that he'd heard, before looking towards the beautiful entrance hall staircase. Clearly, by the pensive look on his face, he was not thinking of tonight, but rather something more serious. The guard left him to his thoughts, turning on his heel, back to his post.
Absently, Eric straightened out his naval uniform, trying to smooth away wrinkles that were not there. His hand slipped into his pocket, fiddling with the pocket watches chain. He frowned, taking his hand out and pushing back his dark hair.
So wrapped up in his fidgeting, he did not notice the soft padding of four paws upon the marble. It wasn't until Max had sidled up to him; bumping against his leg with a whine did the prince look down, clearly agitated.
"I've got a lot on my mind, boy, I don't have time to play," he said, referring to the ball currently being held between sheepdog's teeth. The dog whined again, this time dropping the ball at his feet. "No, Max."
The dog put his head at the base of his master's feet, next to the ball, looking up at him with the saddest eyes he could muster, whining for a third time. Eric could feel his resolve waning.
It took another minute of staring one another down, but Eric finally gave a defeated sigh, leaning down to pick up the ball. "Fine, you win, but don't go smashing into anyone, alright?"
Max jumped up to his feet, panting in excitement, his tail wagging back and forth. Eric tested the ball with agonizing slowness, tossing it up in the air once or twice, even pretending to inspect in. Just when the dog looked like he would explode from happiness, his master threw it as hard as he could out of the entrance hall.
A loud crash followed.
With Max chasing after it as fast as his four legs could carry him.
"I heard that," a very amused voice said from the top of the staircase. "I hope you haven't gone and broken another priceless antique, Carlotta will be very put out, you know."
He looked up, ready with a quick remark, but it fell short when he saw her. She was wearing a gown he'd never seen, strapless so that the expanse of her shoulders could be shown, and a bodice that cinched her small waist, before billowing out in layers of fabric, all different shades of blue. Her long red hair had been left loose for the occasion, sweeping over her shoulders. The only piece of jewelry she wore was a simple, but brilliant diamond necklace.
In all, she looked radiant.
His throat was suddenly very tight. "That's…I haven't seen that dress before."
"It took so long to be made, I think I was supposed to save it for next week but…" she gave a helpless shrug, gripping the bannister tightly as she descended. "Do you like it?"
"I…yes!" He declared quickly, rushing over to extend a hand. She graciously took it as soon as she was close enough. He softened his voice at her mildly surprised look. "Yes, of course I do. You look…stunning."
She blushed at the compliment. "You always say that."
"Because you always seem to look so effortlessly beautiful," he reminded her, planting a kiss on her violently red cheek the second she stepped onto the marble floor.
"Do I?" She asked, batting her lashes slowly, and taking just a half step closer so to him. "Beautiful enough for you to tell me what this surprise is?"
"Um…" he managed, swallowing hard to keep his wits about him when she looked at him like that. "It was…er…"
A sudden bark and the scattering of paws across the marble floor was enough for the spell to be broken. Ariel stepped away from him immediately, gasping in delight as she spotted the dog.
"Max!" She said, laughing as the sheepdog skidded to a rather uneven stop in front of her, letting go of his ball in the process. She dropped to her knees, not caring about the dress, and proceeded to scratch behind his ears.
"You're going to smell like a mutt," Eric warned, but with amusement, watching how devoted his wife was to the pet.
Ariel looked up at him, blinking as though the thought hadn't occurred to her, before returning her attention back to Max, who was currently laid out on his back, clearly asking for a belly rub. "Oh, he doesn't smell that bad."
"Uh-huh, that's what you think; I'm the one who's got to be sharing a carriage with you," he answered, leaning down to pick up the slobbery ball.
"You make it sound so awful," she said, making a face up at him, before turning what was left of her nails to the dog's stomach. "Remember, this was your idea. Besides, Max deserves some extra attention, he's such a good boy!"
"And he'll be here when we get back, I promise, he'll probably be sprawled out across the bed," Eric said pointedly. "We've got to get going anyway."
Ariel frowned, and he could see her debating the matter in her mind. Finally, the curiosity of what the surprise could be seemed to have a stronger pull, and she stood up, brushing away any fur that may have gathered on her dress.
"Can you at least tell me how far we're going?"
He grinned, shaking his head. "Not a chance I'm falling for that, don't think I haven't seen you pouring over maps of the kingdom the past few days."
Her face colored again in embarrassment. "You were spying on me!"
"It's not really spying when you're doing so in my study, is it?" He asked, his smile widening to include his dimples. He held up the ball, raising an eyebrow as he wondered, "Would you like to do the honors?"
She gave him a suspicious look, but took the ball anyway. Max noticed immediately, rolling back onto his feet. He barked in excitement, jumping back and forth.
Unlike her husband, she didn't feel the need to prolong the dog's wait. She swung her arm back and threw the ball as hard as she could, watching as it whistled out of view. Even Eric seemed impressed with the arch it took, his eyes following it, and Max, until he could no more.
"Nice shot," he said with clear appreciation.
She smiled at him, but there was a clear mischievous glint in her eyes. "Don't you mean, 'good job not managing to break anything'?"
He quirked a brow. "There's no proof that my throw broke anything."
As though if on cue, a familiar voice carried over into the entrance hall. "…in the world was this broken?! Who in their right mind would have knocked this down?! There are shards everywhere!"
Eric immediately winced. Surely the housekeeper was not going to be happy when she found out it was his fault (and she always found out). In fact, the sooner he left, and later he returned, probably the better at this point.
"We're going to be late," he said quickly, almost nervously. He grabbed her hand, leading her to the doors that would open out to the courtyard in a bit of a rush.
Ariel merely laughed. "So the surprise is timed? What happens if — thank you," she accepted her cloak from a maid who was standing near the doors; the young woman curtseyed in response, " — if we don't make it on time? Will it – help me with my cloak? – start without us?"
"If I told you that, I would be giving too much away," he answered, fingers deftly pulling the thick material around her exposed shoulders, before clasping it under her throat. It was already dusk out, and the fall weather had been nippy this year. "But I will give you a hint."
"Really?" She couldn't keep the edge of excitement out of her voice at the notion, bracing herself against the cold as the doors were opened for them. She shuddered slightly at the weather, folding her arms together in an attempt to keep warm as she walked the few steps to the awaiting coach. "What is it? What's my hint?"
"Well, it's," he paused for a moment, to help her into the carriage, and to think of something vague enough to keep her off the trail. "It's something you've seen before."
She pouted immediately, and he chuckled as he entered in behind her, facing across her. The door was closed behind him, and he could hear the sounds of the horses growing restless.
"That's not a very good clue," she declared, pulling a sour face. "I've seen a lot of human things by now."
"I'm trying to keep it as a surprise, Ariel, I don't want to ruin everything when we're on our way!" He answered, grinning at the look she sent him.
"Alright, fine then, you win," she sighed, clearly giving up when she realized he would not be giving her much else. Instead, she decided to switch the subject, having latched onto something else that had piqued her interest. "What were you thinking about, before I came down?"
"Huh?" The carriage started moving, but Eric, looking rather confused, didn't seem to notice.
"I was watching you from the top of the stairs, before, you seemed…worried."
"It's nothing important, darling," he answered immediately, his go to response to avoid having to speak on the subject. She reached over, grabbing his hand, concern marking her eyes.
"Then tell me what's wrong," she responded, biting her bottom lip.
He grimaced and looked away; he hated when she troubled herself over his nuances. "I was thinking about next week."
"You've got everything memorized, you shouldn't be so nervous about it," she pointed out quickly. "You're going to do great."
His grimace turned into a frown. "I'm not worried about that part."
"Okay…then what's bothering you?" When, after a moment, she received no response, she blew her bangs away from her eyes in frustration. "Eric, you've been agonizing over something about the coronation for weeks, and every time I ask about it, you just clam up and don't want to talk."
"Aren't you nervous, even a little bit?" He questioned, clearly trying to avoid talking about himself as he disentangled her hands from his. "After all, I'm not the only one…"
Ariel snorted, throwing her shoulders back so that she could now look away, towards the window. "I was never supposed to be in charge; that was always Attina's job. I'll be the youngest queen to ever be crowned, and as a human, in — no offense — a country that is still trying to adjust to the fact that a few months ago I was a mermaid. I'm not nervous, I'm terrified."
"But the past couple of weeks, planning everything, sending out invitations, memorizing your own part, you've seemed so…confident," he answered, suddenly leaning forward on his knees.
"If you didn't keep avoiding this conversation, you'd have known awhile ago that planning for it and memorizing a few lines is not the part that scares me. It's what comes after, the responsibility, the discipline, the total commitment…it's a lot," she said, rebuking him slightly.
They both stayed quiet for a bit, letting her words hang in the air. She raised a hand to her mouth, chewing on what was left of her nails absently. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't break the habit.
At length, he finally said, "I'm still sorry, you know. I didn't mean to force you into this."
She looked at him sharply, and he found himself swallowing hard under her gaze. "No one "forced" me into anything. I promised in our wedding vows that I would love, respect, honor, and care for you in sorrow and in joy, in hardship and in ease. If hadn't thought I could do that, I wouldn't have married you in the first place."
"You know what I mean though," he said, pressing the issue. "If I could have avoided it somehow, if we could just run off, if—"
"If you had the choice, you still wouldn't do it," she answered, firmly. "You're dedicated to this country, these people, and you're going to make a great king. I'm sure of it."
"You were sure that forks were called dingelhoppers," he deadpanned, raising a brow as though questioning her.
"Well, how was I supposed to know? Scuttle was so positive of it too…" She let her thoughts trail off, but only for a moment, as she focused her distant gaze back on him. "Either way, it doesn't really matter. You need to stop doubting yourself, you've been running the kingdom on your own for nearly four years now. Being crowned won't change anything, really, it's more of a formality at this point."
"I had help, though," he argued, shaking his head. "I mean, Grim was always right there, and having my father's council answering my endless questions didn't hurt."
"That's not going to change," she answered, her brows drawing low in concern. "You're always going to have people there to help. Now you get to choose a new council, and Grimsby is only a letter away — although, he may be home most of the time, but I doubt he'd turn down an invitation to be apart of this, you know he'd probably love nothing more than to say he's been apart of two royal councils — and, well, I'm here too. You're never going to be alone in this."
"It's going to be different, for us, though. People are going to start…expecting us to do things by the book," he answered, thinking about the new stresses such a role would bring upon his married life.
"'By the book'?"
"A certain way," he tried rephrasing. "You know, very proper, being suitable, all that."
She laughed, the sound odd in the seriousness of their conversation. "Eric, when have we ever done things in a correct, society standards way?"
Despite himself, he managed to crack a grin, her good humor infectious. "Not once."
"And the waves are still rolling, aren't they?" She waited for him to nod before continuing on. "So then everything will work out. We may not do things "by the book", but we'll do it our own way, and we'll make it okay."
"You're incredible, do you know that?" He asked softly, taken aback by her faith in him. "Honestly. You know how much I love you, right?"
She smiled bashfully, suddenly ducking her head in embarrassment at the compliments. "I think I might like you too."
His brows shot up, and he made a show of cupping his ear, as though he hadn't heard. "I'm sorry, did you just say you might?"
"I'm still upset that you haven't told me what this surprise is," she said airily, by way of explanation.
"Oh no," he feigned shock, but the mischievous spark in his eyes put her on alert. "Well, I can't tell you about your surprise, but I can improve your mood towards me."
Her cheeks colored as red as her hair, though it was hidden by the ever darkening evening sky. "What did you have in mind?"
He said nothing, only grinned even wider to let his dimples show. She felt her face flush even further, holding back a squeak at the idea. She tried to hold some semblance of propriety as she smoothed her face away, though the red in her cheeks stayed put.
"Really? In a moving carriage? You're a barbarian."
"No, I'm your husband," he laughed. "But, if you want me to be a barbarian…"
She gave him a flat, un-amused stare. "Not in this dress, Eric. I just got chewed out by the seamstress yesterday because another one of my dresses has a tear in it."
"I did tell you to stop wearing things that were complicated."
"And I'm telling you that soon she's not going to believe that I'm that clumsy, and when she realizes it, I'm sending her straight to you to get a lecture on "how a future queen should be acting"!"
"Do you think when she's lecturing me I should bring up the fact that your clothes take twice as long to take off?"
Her eyes went wide. "Don't you dare!"
Every bit of working out the finer details and waiting to tell her paid off, he mused, when they reached the opera house. She, of course, hadn't known that the royal family were patrons of the arts, and had box seats to all shows therein. While his parents, nor he, had ever taken an interest in seeing anything, a conversation with Ariel early on, before they were married, about a girl with two-tales dancing along the dock on her toes had sparked a return.
And when the ballet opened, the moment she gasped and grasped his hand was worth it.
She'd twirled all the way back to the carriage, he remembered, smiling down at the top of her head just thinking how many times he'd caught her. She'd never be a ballerina, but he would settle for seeing her smile dazzle up the room anytime instead.
His thoughts turned, however, from the lightness of the night to the seriousness of the next week. He would finally be crowned, and so would she. A King and Queen. Would nights like this still exist when he—they, when they took on the full responsibilities of ruling?
He sighed, not for the first time since the date had been officially set. Ariel would make a great queen; even though she was young, and hadn't been in his life for very long, she was well loved already by the kingdom. She had this way with people; they seemed to just naturally gravitate towards her positive energy.
Not to mention her refusal to acknowledge that he could fail.
He sighed again, and looked out the window.
It was times like these he thought of his father.
They'd never been close, with Eric rarely seeing the man, but still. People said he was a fair ruler. No one had outright despised him. He'd done a pretty decent job running the kingdom.
And yet…
Eric wanted to be more than just "decent". He wanted to make his country proud, make Ariel proud. He knew his faults were many, but he also knew the hardworking people that made up his kingdom deserved better than just average.
He only hoped he could deliver that to them.
The carriage rolled to a slow stop.
Eric blinked, realizing that though he'd been looking out the window, he hadn't been paying attention. He could now see the soft lantern lights that illuminated the large wooden doors, and could make out, in the distance, palace guards looking out.
With a cry of, "Open the gates!" they were moving again.
He looked down at his wife, who was still fast asleep. He brushed her bangs back, exposing more of her slightly upturned face. Then, he shook her shoulder slightly.
"Darling," he yawned, suddenly feeling a wave of tiredness creeping upon him. "We're home."
She mumbled something unintelligible, turning away from the cracks of light spilling through. The carriage rolled to a stop again, and this time more light came in. Ariel groaned, throwing an arm over her face and curling tighter beneath her cloak-turned-blanket.
"Hey, come on," he urged quietly, hearing the coachman disembark. "You can sleep upstairs."
The door to their carriage opened, and Eric winced at the obscene amount of light that blasted through. Or maybe it just seemed that way because he'd become so accustomed to the darkness. Either way, Ariel's high-pitched squeal was exactly how he felt.
She turned her body so that she was looking up at him, her eyes bleary, and pitiful. "Carry me?"
"What, and not let you put those legs to good use?" He teased, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "Come on, lazy-bones."
Her moan of absolute pain made it sound like he was physically hurting her. "Please?"
He hesitated. He had a feeling if he said no, she would stubbornly decide to sleep in the carriage all night. She really was not in the mood to walk.
Finally, he gave a defeated sigh.
"Alright, fine, but you're not going to get special treatment every time we go out," he said, while snaking one arm behind her back, and then twisting her so that he could move the other beneath her knees.
"Mhm," she mumbled in response, turning closer into him.
Carefully, he descended the carriage step, before finally stepping on solid ground. He nodded as the coachman bowed, heading into the palace. The doors opened, and he shot a grateful look to the guardsmen for that.
Candles, which were all lit, casted shadows over the long hallways and empty rooms. He passed by more guards on their nightly patrols, many of them bowing or giving him a respectful nod as he walked by.
He weaved his way through different turns and stairs until finally reaching the double doors that led to their royal apartment. It took some finagling with the handle, because his hands were full, but finally he managed to open the door. Using his foot, he shut it behind him too.
It took a few more steps to get to their bed, passing what had been a antechamber in decades past, before the custom had fallen out of practice. Thankfully, the wall and subsequent door that once separated the bedroom from the antiquated chamber had been knocked down years before too — by his mother, most ironically, since she had never spent a night in the suite.
Finally, he set her back on her feet, which, now he realized with a smile, had no shoes on. "Are you awake enough to make it to your dressing room without falling?"
She grunted by way of response. She was awake, but just barely. Through bleary eyes she managed to walk in somewhat of a straight line towards the door that separated the two rooms.
Eric chuckled, shaking his head at her. He carefully removed his sword, even though it was in its scabbard, and laid it flat on top of a dresser. It was a fine piece of craftsmanship, made to his exact specifications, and he made sure to treat it as such. Rolling his shoulders back, he yawned, undressing with much less care than he'd treated the rapier.
He was almost ready getting ready when he heard soft footsteps across the marble floor, and a loud crash into the large bed.
He looked over in faint amusement, seeing that his wife was sprawled across her side of the bed, wearing a light purple nightgown. Her less-than-graceful clatter did not, however, seem to affect Max, who was fast asleep at the foot of the bed. Yet, even though he'd expected her to be in the same state, her eyes were open, tinged with exhaustion, but open, and watching him.
He slipped into bed himself, and immediately she curled into him. She breathed in his scent, loving the way he always smelled of wood and salt, her perfect sailor. He wrapped an arm around her, holding her there against his bare chest, quietly enjoying the moment.
She looked up at him, clearly having woken up a bit since she'd changed into her nightgown. "It was a great night."
"I'm glad you enjoyed your surprise," he answered with a dimpled smile, which turned into a frown when he felt her shake her head against him. "I thought you loved the ballet?"
"I did," she said softly, tracing the planes of his muscles with the tips of her fingers. He rarely wore a shirt to sleep; he said it wasn't the norm on land, but after hot nights below decks, he couldn't shake the habit. "But it was wonderful spending it with you."
His smile returned immediately. "You're a hopeless flatterer."
"I know," she responded, lifting her head so that she could plant a kiss against his lips, before settling back against her pillow. "I think I might like you more now. Maybe I even love you."
"Then tonight was a complete success," he answered, content to stay like this forever.
She was silent for a moment, focused now on tracing nonsense patterns against him, before saying, with a bit of uncertainty in her voice, "Do you know why I know you'll be a great king?"
The question caught him off guard; he had thought they were done with the subject. "No, why?"
"Because," here she yawned, clearly still tired, "Because you care. And Daddy always said the best kind of man would care, not just about me, but about everyone and everything else."
He blinked. "That is…wow."
Shyly, she said nothing else, but rested her head against him. It was still unnerving to think that a few short months ago she'd faced the most stressful, and downright dangerous three days of her life just to get to this point. Yet, she knew she'd do it again, in a heartbeat, if it meant more moments like this.
"Hey," he nudged her slightly, and she looked up wonderingly. "How tired are you?"
There was no note of mischief in his voice, no coy implications, no insinuations. It was just a simple question, and Ariel found herself curious as to the outcome.
"I can stay up a bit longer."
"Remember last week, when you told me making kelp cookies and chocolate chip cookies wasn't completely different?"
Her brows drew low as she faintly recalled the conversation. What was he playing at? "Yes?"
"…on a scale of one through ten, if I hypothetically asked if you were in the mood for warm cookies, what would your answer be?"
"That depends," she answered, lifting herself up on an elbow to survey him.
His hands went behind his head, trying to act neutral, but failing miserably as his grin showed through. "Oh?"
She smiled. "Carry me downstairs?"