Prince of Men, Daughter of the Sea
The first thing he noticed as he opened his eyes was that his head hurt.
No, he corrected himself, squinting in the light of the sun rising across the eastern horizon, his hand involuntarily moving to his brow in an attempt to blot out the orange hues currently causing his world to swirl about in unpleasant, rapid circles. "Hurt" is an understatement.
He winced as he managed to fight against his muscles' protestations and draw himself upward to a sitting position, a sharp gasp emitting from his lips as he realized his head was not the only part of his anatomy currently in a less-than-ideal state. His legs felt as if he had been running for days without a moment's rest, while his abdomen and ribcage—both largely exposed as what was left of his tattered shirt left very, very little to the imagination—were covered in a unpleasant looking array of blue and violet bruises.
Pulling his hand away from his brow, he grimaced as he saw his fingers were coated in a thin layer of sticky amber liquid. So engrossed was he in taking stock of his various injuries, it was several minutes before he realized he had absolutely no idea where he was or just what had happened to him. What the . . . What the hell . . .?
Fighting the urge to panic, he inhaled slowly, deliberately, his nausea subsiding as images of the past day slowly but surely began to formulate inside his addled consciousness. He remembered a woman with hair black as midnight, her voice mysteriously alluring, hypnotizing . . . the same voice he had heard when he had awoken after the shipwreck. She . . . She saved me! he thought, his heart pounding faster within his breast. I . . . I found her . . .
He frowned as he realized that something wasn't right, that it was wrong, so wrong somehow. His brow furrowed, he saw another image come to his mind . . . He saw himself on a ship, getting ready to marry his rescuer, but . . . but . . .
That's not right! It . . . It wasn't her . . . It was . . . It was . . .
He saw his mystery woman, saw himself leaning in to kiss her, to proclaim her love for her, but her hair was no longer black but red, her eyes blue as the sky, her smile more beautiful than anything he had ever seen. It . . . It wasn't Vanessa, he realized, his eyes widening. It was . . . It was . . .
"Ariel!"
A cascade of memories that didn't make any sense at all bombarded his aching mind, things that were impossible, absurd dancing before his eyes, making it impossible for him to distinguish between reality and whatever the hell his addled, most certainly concussed brain was trying to show him. All he knew, all that mattered to him was finding her, making certain she was all right. Groaning in pain, in exhaustion, he tried to stand, but his legs refused to listen to him, too exhausted to respond to his commands were they, water lapping over them as he became aware of the fact that he was lying upon the shoreline rather than in his own bed—Why the hell am I here, dammit?—and that something soft but firm was pressing into his chest, preventing him from trying to rise, forcing him to lay back against the soft sand of the beach.
"Eric . . ."
At the sound of her voice, his eyes widened. Looking upward, ignoring the panoply of pink dots clouding his vision, he inhaled sharply as he saw a pair of impossibly-blue eyes looking down on him, eyes he had come to know oh-so-well over the past three days, eyes framed by long hair of flaming amber cascading down around pale skin.
"Ar– . . . Ariel!" he choked out, his voice hoarse as he struggled to pull himself upright, a fresh wave of pain and nausea overwhelming him.
Her finger pressed into his lips, silencing him, as she carefully, delicately stroked his hair, tears welling up in her eyes as she took care to avoid the mass of cuts and dried blood peppered across his brow. "Just rest," she whispered.
He wanted nothing more than to do as she commanded, to close his eyes and drift back into blissfully unconsciousness, but before he could do so, a thought rang loudly through his mind. "Ariel," he said, "Ariel . . . you . . . you can speak!"
The nonsensical images began dancing in his brain once more, whirling faster and faster as he struggled to make sense of them. There was Vanessa—no, it wasn't her, she had turned into some sort of tentacled monster—How in the hell—then he was on the ship, but that wasn't right, because he remembered swimming underwater—Why did I do that?—then he was treading water with Ariel at the ocean's surface as they tried to escape from . . . from something . . . No, that's not right, he told himself, frowning. Ariel wasn't treading water with her feet . . . because she . . . she . . .
His face suddenly contorted into an expression of abject astonishment. Ignoring the pain in his skull, ignoring the protestations of his lost-and-found rescuer, he forced himself to sit up, forced her to slide off his chest to the sand of the beach. His eyes fixed upon her, he swallowed involuntarily in utter disbelief as he looked at her—really looked at her—for the first time since awakening.
"Ariel," he murmured, shaking his head, rubbing his eyes, not believing what he was seeing. "Ariel, you're a . . . you're a . . ."
Her already moist eyes grew even more wet as she hung her head, too ashamed to meet his gaze. Her hands buried within the sand, she nodded in assent. "I know," she responded, her voice barely audible as her fin of purest emerald silently moved back and forth of its own accord. "This . . . This is what I really am. Not a human, but a—"
"Sea maiden."
He leaned backward involuntarily as the words left his mouth. "I . . . I don't believe it. I . . . I always thought the stories were . . . I . . . I mean . . ."
His headache had finally begun to subside as he realized she still refused to meet his gaze, that tears were rolling down her face uncontrollably. Clearing his throat, he reached for her hand, only for her to pull it away quickly, her head turning toward the water lapping against the shoreline.
"Ariel," he frowned, confused. "Ariel, what is—?"
"I shouldn't be here," she whispered, her eyes fixated upon the sea. "Everything that's happened . . . To your kingdom . . . To your subjects . . . To you . . . It's all my fault."
He leaned forward, catching her by surprise as he took hold of her wrist, refusing to let go. "Ariel, I don't know what's happened, and I really don't care. All I know is that I've almost lost you twice already, and I'm not going to let that happen again."
At this, she turned her head to look at him, her eyes empty, devoid of happiness. "Please," she begged, placing her free hand upon his arm. "Please, just let me go."
He furrowed his brow in confusion. "Why? Why would I let the woman I love go? How does that make any sense at all?"
She shook her head, her long tresses cascading in response. "You don't love me. You love the girl you thought rescued you. The human girl. Not . . ." She looked down at her fin, her cheeks nearly as red as her hair. "Not this véldenmaína . . ."
He smiled in spite of himself as her voice, still more beautiful than anything he had ever heard, tinged with melancholy though it was, let the name of her race glide through his ears. "You're wrong, Ariel," he insisted.
She managed to pull her wrist free of his grasp, her gaze returning to the ocean, as if responding to a sound only she could hear. "Please don't say that," she said. "You can't possibly . . . You can't love me . . . when I'm . . . when I'm this . . ."
Before she could attempt to drag herself to the water, he placed both hands on her shoulders. Pulling her close, wrapping his arms around her waist, not even noticing when his fingers made contact with her surprisingly warm scales, he pressed his lips against hers, the pain in his body finally evaporating as he drank in her scent, her taste, her presence.
After what seemed an eternity, he released his lips from hers. "Does that convince you?" he asked softly. "My . . . my beautiful véldenmaína?"
For a moment, she looked as happy as she had when they had danced in the village the previous day—was it really only yesterday?—but her elation passed as soon as it had arrived. Unable to stop herself, she wept, burying her face in her hands as she sobbed uncontrollably.
"Ariel," he said, placing his hand on her shoulder, trying to draw her close once more. "Why are you—"
"Why are you making this so difficult?" she managed to choke out. "This . . . This is impossible, Eric! We . . . We can never be—"
"Yes, we can!" he interjected. "We'll . . . We'll find a way! There has to be one! I—"
"Eric!"
He turned involuntarily at the sound of his name, Grimsby's voice echoing from far down the beach. Without thinking, he responded. "Grim!" he called out, his arm extended above his head, waving. "Over here!"
Turning back, he inhaled sharply as he realized she had managed to pull herself to the shoreline, her fluke fully submerged in the shallow waves of the beach.
"No!"
Pulling himself to his feet, the spots finally gone from his vision, he stumbled the five paces to the shoreline, his feet immersed in water as he reached out for her.
"Ariel!" he cried out, wading as far into the sea as he could. "Ariel, wait! Please! Don't leave me again!"
Only her head was visible above the water as she looked upon him one last time. Without warning, she submerged herself fully beneath the waves, her fin rising above the surface. With a mighty kick from her limb, she propelled herself deep beneath the surface . . . as if she had never existed.
He sank to his knees, his head bowed low, the relentless pulse of the tide pushing and pulling against his legs.
"Eric? Oh, thank God! Eric!"
The voice startled him from his reverie, as did the hand that had firmly clamped itself upon his shoulder. Turning his head, he saw Grimsby standing behind him, the older man's face painted with relief.
"Eric, let's get you inside. Dear God, man, look at your head! And your chest! Why, Carlotta is going to—"
Grimsby stopped as he looked upon the young prince. "Eric? What is it?"
"Grim," the prince murmured, his gaze fixated upon the waters leading to the distant horizon. "Grim, she . . . she's a . . ."
The older man nodded, crossing himself silently as he patted his charge upon the back. "I know, Eric. I know."
The young man turned his head toward Grimsby, dejection and sorrow mired upon his countenance. "I've lost her, Grim," he choked out. "I've lost her . . . and I'll never see her again."
Grimsby opened his mouth to speak, closing it again upon realizing he had no words of comfort to offer the sorrowing prince. Instead, the two men simply stood together in silence, watching the gently motion of the waters that betrayed no sign of the existence of the sea maiden who had made off with the young prince's heart.
He stood at the shoreline of the beach, legs knee-deep in water, as he had every day for—actually, he was no longer sure just how long it had been. Days, weeks, months; the precise details mattered not to him. All he knew was that he was at the shore once again, eyes peeled across the horizon, looking for any sign at all of . . . of her.
Grimsby, to his credit, hadn't demonstrated any sign of disapproval toward his actions. In fact, the older man had done an admirable job in helping the kingdom to recover from the disaster aboard the wedding ship by somehow convincing all who had been present that they had been the victim of a case of mass hysteria, hallucinating such nonsense as sea maidens and women that transformed into tentacled nightmares, as a result of consuming tainted wedding cake. With those loose ends tied up, there was only one thing left for the prince to focus his energies upon.
The sun's orange hues flowed across the surface of the sea as the yellow orb began its slow descent toward the horizon. The prince, as was his custom, turned his back toward the ocean, his waterlogged feet prepared to make the slow trek back to the castle before dark, only to repeat the same ritual the next day, and the day after that, and the day after—
He paused. Turning back toward the sea, he felt a wave of unbearable anguish begin to wash over him. If I could just see her one last time. Just once more. That's all I would need. Please . . . Please . . .
Unable to bear it any longer, he let out a cry of unbridled despair.
"Ariel!" he screamed, not caring if anyone heard him, not caring if he made a fool of himself in front of his entire kingdom, if that was what it would take. "Ariel! Please! I know you're out there somewhere! Please!"
He sank to his knees, his weight resting upon his arms, head bowed low. "Ariel," he whispered. "Ariel, I can't do this any longer! I can't! I'm not strong enough, and . . ."
He raised his head, eyes fixated upon the setting sun. "You can't do this, Ariel!" he cried out. "Why would you save me from death only to leave me alone? Why would you do that? I . . . I don't care about anything else, Ariel! I just . . ."
He bowed his head once more, too weary to raise his voice. "I would give anything to see you again," he murmured. "Anything! Please, just . . . just let me know you're all right . . ."
So focused was he upon his own misery that he almost failed to hear the sound of water being disturbed, the sound of something moving across the surface toward him. His heart pounding within his chest, he looked upward, hoping against hope that he would see—
He inhaled sharply, almost forgetting to resume breathing as he stared at the figure before him. The being was tall, broad shouldered, long white hair flowing down his back, bearded face looking down upon him from the waters with an air of authority and command the likes of which the prince had never experienced. The crown upon his head, the tri-pronged scepter within his grasp . . . The prince swallowed, opening his mouth to speak when—
"You know who I am."
It was a statement, not a question. The prince nodded, perspiration forming upon his brow as he struggled to respond.
"Y–, Yes, sire. I mean, Your Majesty. I—"
The king of the sea waved his hand, silencing the prince, his expression stern, unreadable. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, he spoke once more.
"You are Prince Eric, yes?"
The prince bowed his head in acknowledgement. "Yes. Yes, I am, Your Majesty."
The sea king folded his arms as he regarded the human prince. "So. You are the man who caused my daughter to sell herself to the sea witch in exchange for humanity. To trade her birthright as a véldenmaína of the waters for the curse of men."
The king's expression did not fill the prince with any confidence whatsoever. "I . . . I suppose I am, Your . . . Your Majesty."
The sea king's brow furrowed. "I have told my daughters, just as I have told every véldenthem under my ocean, of the dangers of your kind, prince of men. I made it perfectly clear that if any of your kind were to succumb to the power of my waters, my people were to let them die, as my father instructed me, and as his father instructed him, and his father, and his father, and . . ."
The prince remained silent, not knowing what to say, yet also not wanting to provoke the already-angered sea king further.
Then, to the prince's surprise, the king's expression softened ever-so-slightly. "So, you can imagine my surprise, then, prince of men, when I saw what you did for my daughter. How you came to her rescue when I was . . . indisposed. How you fought for a race you did not even know existed a mere hour before, and how you killed the witch that had been a blight upon my ocean for far too long."
To the prince's surprise, the sea king laughed. "I must admit," the king continued, "that I find myself in an uncomfortable position."
His expression serious once more, the sea king fixed his gaze upon the human prince. "As much as it humbles me to say this, I find myself in your debt, prince of men. Not just I, but, rather, my entire race. Without your courage, I . . ."
Waving his hand, the sea king cleared his throat. "Now, young prince. I must ask you: What is it you desire of me in payment for this debt? Name your price, and if it is within my power, I will grant it to you."
The sea king's trident glowed as images danced from its tips, images of sunken vessels filled with treasure, of pearls larger than the prince had ever seen strewn about the ocean, of precious stones hewn by the véldenthem from rock far below the surface. "All of this can be yours, prince of men," the sea king said. "Just say the word, and my debt will be repaid."
The prince licked his lips before slowly opening his mouth. "Thank you, Your Majesty," he said, bowing low once more. "I . . . I am truly humbled and honored that you would be so generous. But . . . But . . ."
The sea king raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"
The prince sighed, his shoulders falling as he spoke. "There is only one thing I desire. I . . . I am afraid I desire more than anything to see Ariel again. Even if for only a moment."
The king frowned. "Are you certain you are thinking clearly, prince of men? You would give up treasures of such value for nothing more than a few moments with her, knowing the two of you could never be together?"
The prince nodded. "I . . . I am afraid there is nothing I would want more, Your Majesty."
The king was silent. For a moment, the prince feared his had greatly insulted the sea king, that he would be killed for his rudeness when—
"Prince of men," the king spoke. "I . . . I must confess: My daughter has been miserable these past few weeks. Nothing I, or anyone, for that matter, says or does can break her from her sadness. She . . . She is beyond any power of mine to heal her, for what afflicts her is something I cannot correct."
He sighed heavily. "You have proven yourself far worthier and greater than I could ever have anticipated, prince of men. If it were in my power, as much as it would pain me, I would gladly return my daughter to the form she possessed when she walked with you for three days, as I now know for certain you are worthy of her."
Stunned and overwhelmed with happiness, the prince bowed low once more. "I . . . I don't know what to say, Your Majesty. I—"
"But," the sea king continued. "But, I am afraid the darkness the sea witch used upon her has left its mark permanently upon her. No matter how I try, no matter how much I desire, I . . ." He lowered his head dejectedly. "I am afraid I cannot restore her human legs to her. She will live out her days as she was born: a véldenmaína of the sea"
The prince's face fell, his euphoria evaporating. "I . . . I see." Inhaling slowly, he stood tall. "Nevertheless, Your Majesty, I . . . I would very much like to see her. Just to say goodbye."
The prince felt a wave of nervousness descend upon him as he realized the sea king was looking upon him inscrutably. "Prince of men," the sea king said, his speech slow, deliberate. "Just what, exactly, would you sacrifice to see my Ariel again?"
The young prince did not hesitate. "Anything!" he blurted out. "Anything at all."
The sea king nodded inaudibly. "Are . . . Are you absolutely certain, prince of men?"
"Yes." The prince folded his arms, his face filled with determination. "Yes, I am."
To his surprise, the sea king smiled. "Well, then, prince of men. Here is what I propose . . ."
"Ariel?"
The véldenmaína looked up from her bed toward the voice, her eyes red from crying, her fin of green barely moving. Her father was before her, his arms folded, his eyes filled with concern.
"Ariel, come with me."
She looked upon her father, confused. "What? What is it? What is wrong?"
He gestured toward the entryway to her bed chamber. "I have . . . something to show you."
She shook her head. "I . . . I can't. I just . . . I don't know if I—"
"Ariel, please."
Her father took her hand, guiding her to his side. Together, father and daughter swam out of her bed chamber through the magnificent undersea palace that was their home. Nothing was said between the two of them for several moments, until the sea king broke the silence.
"Ariel, I am . . . I am concerned about you."
She felt her cheeks turn red, wanting nothing more than to return to her bed chamber, to be left alone with her sorrow, her guilt, her misery. "I . . . I'm fine, veldre. I just—"
Her father took hold of her wrist, stopping her in the middle of the passageway. "You are not 'fine,' Ariel," he said. "Not in the slightest. You barely eat. You barely sleep. I cannot remember the last time I saw you smile—"
She shook her head. "Please. Don't worry about me. I . . . I'll be all right. I'm just . . ."
Her father frowned. "Just what?"
She turned her back to him. "I nearly killed you," she whispered. "And our family. And our people. And the humans. And . . . And . . ."
Her voice trailed off as she felt tears return to her eyes. "All because I was selfish. Because I wouldn't listen to you. Because I thought I knew better. Because—"
The sea king cupped her chin delicately. "You know I have forgiven you, Ariel. And you know I have admitted . . ." He inhaled slowly. "That I have admitted that I was also at fault for trying to keep you from a world I did not understand. That I drove you to do what you did through my own mistakes."
He smiled slightly. "I only wish you would stop blaming yourself. And that you would try to move forward."
Unable to hold back any longer, she wept openly, allowing her father to wrap his arms around her, to do what he could to comfort her. "How?" she asked, her words intermingled with sob upon sob. "How can I, when . . . it hurts so much?"
The sea king kissed her forehead. "I cannot tell you how, my Ariel," he said quietly. "But I hope what I am about to show you makes it easier."
Taking her hand once more, he led his daughter into the main hall of the palace. She frowned as she looked about, uncertain of just what her father wanted her to see. "I . . . I don't understand, veldre," she said, wiping her eyes. "Just what is it you wanted me to—"
Her words caught in her throat as her gaze fell upon the palace throne, toward just what was positioned before it. A shocked expression fell upon her face, shock quickly giving way to horror as she shook her head again and again. "No," she murmured. "No. It's . . . It's not possible! It's not possible!"
She turned to her father, sobs wracking her body as she looked back and forth from her father to the throne again and again. "What did you do?" she cried out. "How could you do this to him?!"
She sank to the floor of the palace hall, barely registering the touch of her father's hands upon her arms. "Ariel," he said softly. "Ariel, you must understand. I did nothing to him. He wanted this!"
She shook her head, eyes shut, not wanting to believe. "You . . . You're lying!" she whispered. "He . . . He would never . . . I would never have let you—"
"Ariel."
Opening her eyes, she shrank backward as she saw her prince—her human prince—reach out to take her hand. Except he was no longer human, for where his legs had once been, a long fluke of purest blue was, gossamer-like fins flicking back and forth in the deep ocean waters. His face was more handsome than even she remembered, his ebony hair shining in the light that pierced the surface of the waters far, far above.
Her hand shook as she stretched it forth to take his. "Eric?" she murmured. "Eric, how . . . how could you let him do this to you?"
The prince smiled broadly as he pulled the véldenmaína close. "It's like your father said," he responded. "I would give up anything to be with you, Ariel. Anything."
She looked at her prince, then back toward her father, then toward her prince once more. "But . . . But, your kingdom! How could you—"
He brought his finger to her lips. "Ariel," he said firmly, "I would give up a thousand kingdoms to spend the rest of my life with you."
He shrugged his shoulders. "Besides," he said, "I'll still be able to check in with Grim from time to time. Just to make sure everything is running smoothly in my kingdom. After all, for all they know, I'm on an extended vacation to 'find myself' . . . or whatever story Grim came up with."
She stared intently at her prince. "Eric, you're saying you . . . you really want this? To be . . . like me?"
Rather than answering, he wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her as tightly against him as he could as he kissed her. She allowed him to hold her, to protect her, to take away all her sadness, all her pain. After what seemed like hours, he released his lips from hers. Swimming back toward the throne, he took hold of something lying atop it. Returning to her, he placed an orange and pink sea flower in her hair, then proceeded to wrap a necklace of brilliantly-colored shells around her neck.
Astonished, she looked at him, uncertain what to say. "Eric, did . . . did you just . . .?"
He frowned. "Did I do it wrong?"
She shook her head. "No. I just . . . Eric, do you know what this means?"
He took her hand once again. "Your father told me this is how a véldenmaína is to be attired for her marriage."
She nodded weakly. "That's . . . That's right."
Her prince smiled. "Ariel, I . . . I'm not sure how to say this. But, if you'll have me, I would be honored to—"
She wrapped her arms around him, happier than she could remember ever being. "Yes," she whispered in his ear. "Yes, I will."
The two kissed once more, in that moment no longer a prince of men and a daughter of the sea, but simply a véldenthem and a véldenmaína whose love had been proven by trial and sacrifice, who no longer had to fear losing each other, but instead could simply be with one another, until the end of their days.
AN: An alternative to the ending of the film that has been stuck in my head for quite some time and just would not go away. A "parallel universe" to my "Daughter of the Sea" continuity.