She does not love him.
The stories tell of how she gave up her life and happiness so that he might live, of how she could not bear to kill him, and of the great love she bore him. The stories are lies.
She grew up sheltered, the youngest of all her sisters, and the darling of the oceans. But though the sea held her home and heart, she has always yearned for something more – for the land, with its salt laced air and sun warmed sand.
There is another story told, of a human woman who loved the sea too well, and how she acquired fins and a tail through trial and hardship, spending the latter years of her life under the water, happy with her husband and child. But that story is not this one, and King Triton never knew enough of his mother to tell his daughters of it.
She dreams of the shore, of running free through the sand, but she is the only one who does. Her sisters hush her when she tries to speak to them, telling her that there is more than enough to dream of in the ocean and all it entails. They do not understand.
So she swims, alone, through the depths of the sea, searching for lost treasures of the land, hoarding every scrap she finds; and she waits for the day she will be old enough to swim to the surface.
When that day comes she is still more girl than woman, but though her sisters murmur in concern, nothing will prevent her from reaching for land. She hits the surface, unprepared for the thick, heavy air, or the bright sun after a lifetime of only watery light. She gasps and chokes while her body adjusts, attempting to breathe in everything she's ever dreamed of. She looks around, desperate to see it all; to her right there is a ship, but one whole and unbroken, unlike her discovered wrecks. And there, in the distance, is the shore. She wants, a deep, visceral need that propels her forward; but she stops after a few moments, years of warnings and cautions repeating in her mind. She is not quite brave enough to venture forth, despite the call that echoes through her soul. Nevertheless, she does not return to the underwater depths, instead remaining above, long past the time that she should be home. The humans on the ship are fascinating, and she splits her time between watching them and watching the land.
The sky darkens, and she breathes more easily as water fills the air, savoring the mixture of above and below. The ship that caught her attention splits with a loud crack, and she sees a human tumble into the water. She hesitates for a moment, before recklessness overcomes her. She cannot go to land, but she can go to see a real mortal up close. Lifting him from the ocean's embrace, she spends little time looking at his face or upper body, which is remarkably similar to mermaids; instead, she runs enthralled eyes over his legs and feet. He's choking, coughing as she was before, only on water, not air. The storm has increased, and his ship is nowhere in sight. Her breath catches, and it has nothing to do with what substance she is breathing; here it is, what she has been waiting for: an excuse to go to shore.
She swims, strong and sure, dragging him out of the ocean, savoring the feel of sand against her fins. She would stay forever if she could, but already she can feel her tail drying out, the life leeching from her. She returns to the water, her voice crying out a mournful song for the loss of her soul and sees him sit up on the shore, staring out through the rain towards the sea; again, she wants.
It is not love, but it is desire, which is all the sea witch needs.
It is easy to twist the young mermaid's emotions, even easier to entice her to the sea witch's lair, and a simple matter to strike a deal. The taste of her desire is almost as sweet as the sound of her voice.
The mermaid that was swims desperately for the surface, water bringing only death to her now. She emerges, and the outside that once caused her to choke now fills her lungs with welcome air. The sand is rough against newly delicate skin, and her legs are shaky and unused. She has never felt freer.
The human she rescued finds her, but there is no recognition in his eyes. He helps her to her feet, questioning her on her past and identity, but she has no voice with which to answer. He asks her if she has seen anyone else swimming in the water, and there is an almost desperate look in his eyes.
It is as easy to twist the emotions of a human who is more boy than man as it is for a mermaid who is more girl than woman.
Out of desire to learn more of this girl the sea has spit out, and perhaps a little pity, he brings her back to his home. He is a prince, she discovers, and one well loved by his people, despite his penchant for staring out at the water every day.
Being a human is harder than she thought it would be, especially when one is a nameless no one, with no past and no voice. They whisper that the sea struck her dumb, that she has seen things no mortal should, and that is why her eyes are sea green and fathomless. She misses her home, her sisters, and her voice, which has always been the most revered gift of the oceans; but when she runs down the sand, wind whipping through her hair, and when she dances, her movements a mixture of grace and awkwardness, she regrets nothing; where once she lost herself in song, now she loses herself in movement.
She spends most of each day with the prince. Despite the lack of words between them, they understand one another. They do not love each other, but she is of the sea and he is of the land, and they love what the other represents. Dark rumors circulate the kingdom that a beautiful sea witch has ensnared the prince using powerful dark magic, but that doesn't happen until later.
She recognizes the sea witch, and her own voice which the witch uses, from the very first moment. The prince is captivated, for a mermaid's voice is the voice of the sea, which is all he has ever wanted. But there is no one who would trade him a tail for legs, and even if there were, he is the only prince and the needs of his kingdom come before his own. She was the youngest of seven daughters, and no such requirements had been placed on her.
When the sea witch comes, she comes with a noble lineage, a handsome dowry, and the song of the sea. Truly, she has planned well, and the mermaid turned human is caught helplessly in her trap.
There is nothing she can do. The wedding preparations are underway faster than she can blink, and the prince, along with his court, adores the persona the sea witch has chosen. The only option left is to die a mortal death and become one of the many slaves of the witch.
The night of the wedding, her sisters come to her bearing a knife which gleams in the moonlight. 'Take this,' they say. 'Stab him, and you can return to the sea, return to us.' They will not tell her the price they paid for this chance, and she cannot bear to look directly at her sisters to see. Truly, they love her too well. She wants to tell them so many things. She wants to tell them she loves them too, and that she's sorry; she's sorry she worried them, she's sorry they paid a price too dear for a gift she cannot use, and she's sorry they could not let her go.
But she's not sorry to have danced or run, or to have burned too brightly for too short a time with human mortality.
She cannot say this, though, and under their pleading eyes, she cannot refuse the knife. She reaches for it with trembling hands, and they tell her that they will see her shortly, back in the ocean, that soon everything will go back to the way it should.
She brings the knife into the wedding chambers where the prince lies, sleeping and sated. This should be easy. They may have grown passing fond of each other during the days spent together, but he is still only a human, and she does not love him.
But she loves the lines worn into his face by exposure to the elements; she loves the calluses he acquired from walking barefoot; and she loves the deep tan the sun has given him. No, she does not love him, but the land, and the marks the land has given him, those she loves all too well.
And he has done her no harm. He did not ask to be rescued by a mermaid or to become a pawn in a power struggle that has been going on for centuries. Instead, he gave her the courage to go to shore, to dance, and to reach for her dreams.
She drops the knife, the sharp edge crumbling into sand as it hits the ground, and she runs. She runs because time is short and a mortal life span shorter still; because running fills her with a joy swimming never has; because this is the only way she knows to say goodbye to a world that has always held a piece of her soul.
She runs to the ocean, and does not hesitate, diving into the water, returning to the sea which has always held her home and her heart. The salt from her tears mixes with the salt in the water as the sea absorbs her body and tears apart her spirit.