Once again, much appreciation goes out to AvidReader88 whose comments inspire me to continue posting this story. :)
Chapter 7: Ethereal Sonnets
Ariel's back was burning against the sun-exposed rock but the physical discomfort could not remove her from the semi-conscious realm in which she took so much comfort. Every essence of her spirit was trapped in song, ensnared by the hypnotic rise and fall of notes and syllables. The cliff face was a dull pink-brown, late-afternoon colours covering the beach and water. A strong breeze was tugging at the mermaid's hair, her eyes lost in sightless wonder of the world around her. Then she heard a splash. She didn't stop singing as she slowly turned to look down the shore toward the human building.
The woman in the blue and white dress was gliding nearer, hair tied in a loose knot at the base of her neck, hands lax at either side of her body. Ariel knew the woman could see her and had followed her voice onto the beach. The princess' heart reached out, beckoning the human closer.
"I've longed to meet you." The wind whispered in perfect French.
The human woman took no notice of Ariel's scaly green tail, caring only for the sight of the woman before her - passion burning in her eyes.
When Ariel realized it had been a dream she was both relieved and incredibly heart-sick. She barely ate that day, spending most of her time wandering aimlessly through the palace. It was so unlike the cheerful princess that each merperson soon had their own theory as to the cause. Caught up in her own thoughts Ariel failed to realize how much attention was suddenly being directed at her. By nightfall it had been unanimously decided by the gossipy populous that Triton's youngest had been 'seeing someone' and that something had happened to put them at odds. This rumour was not unwelcome in the king's ear. A lover was sure to help deter Ariel from her deviant tendencies. However, being her father, he wanted to know the identity of this lover. Ariel was, after all, still very young and might be taken advantage of.
The opportunity of discovering this merperson's identity did not readily present itself. Ariel stayed close to home the rest of the week, performing her responsibilities with a gravity of character more suited to someone twice her age. She talked very little but sang often and with gusto. Her sisters and several long-time friends encouraged her to confide in them but the princess would talk only of banalities. Nobody could understand her silence on the issue. Normal mermaids did not pass up a chance for sympathetic company, but Ariel always had been a bit odd.
The truth was that Ariel did not know what she should do. She'd invested far more in this one-sided relationship than she'd intended to and was now at a crossroads. The princess knew that strict observation was no longer going to satisfy her. She felt familiar with the persons she'd watched and listened to but there could be no expansion into a blossoming relationship. Not while she remained invisible to them.
The next two weeks found Ariel decided that she would be content to remain under the sea, tending to her duties and interests. She consoled herself with the idea that, in time, she would meet merpeople with whom she could develop genuine and fulfilling bonds. She determinedly believed this to be possible despite her weeks of land observation and years of wreck-hunting. Not all of Ariel, however, was of a logical bent. Undersea kingdom monotony carried her mind into fantasy which inevitably led to that bright shore and those laughing voices. It now seemed to Ariel that every song flowing from her brought its life from the intense emotions she felt while absorbing details of human life.
If the young princess was truly honest with herself, which only really happened when the sun had gone down and the ocean was empty of mervoices, she would realize that her human, Belle, was Ariel's real source of temptation. "When did I come to… care so much for her?" Ariel battled with this question unceasingly but came no nearer an answer. "We've never even spoken, it's madness to think so often about and feel so much for a person you've never interacted with, who you've only ever watched speaking with others and living without you - quite well without you."
Had the excitement of the storm, the thrill of saving and being near her first human, planted the seeds of such an attachment? Would she have felt the same way if she had saved any human creature from the sea? It was impossible to know, but Ariel now had to deal with the emotional consequences of her actions. She was in deeper than she'd ever dreamt possible and at a complete loss as to how she should proceed. At least she was, until Sebastian asked her to write a song for the upcoming Eastern Marine performance.
"Make it unique, to you and your audience. It must be yours in every respect Ariel. Every prominent musician will be present and you could really show 'em that you're more than just Triton's youngest daughter." Sebastian gave her a warm smile. "You are a beautiful, talented mermaid and they'll love you."
The princess poured herself into the inception of this song. Her whole career – whatever that was – would be riding on it. Perhaps if she was offered the chance to go study music on the other side of the ocean she could put the troubling emotions behind her. After fighting with herself for days Ariel determined that the song would be in French. No one would care enough to know or recognize a human language put to a merperson's style.
All of her creative being was entangled with the feelings and images of the past few months. She told herself that she would perform out all of her thoughts, desires and pain so that she could more rationally deal with memories now dulled by intense scrutiny. Ariel conveniently disregarded the fact that she'd constructed songs of this type in the recent past and achieved no such result. This is for performance in front of the whole musical community. It will show me how rich and wonderful my own world is and what I can achieve within it. Ambition then was to be her cure.
Once a draft of her piece was constructed the crab coached her relentlessly. He concluded that there was promise in it but those collections of sounds… he was not entirely sure he liked them. Nonetheless, French was unique to the crustacean so he took no more notice of Ariel's lyrics than he would elongated vowel sounds.
Autumn came to the sea with a turbulent storm that, though far worse in the above-world, was felt in Triton's domain via a multitude of unpleasant currents. The change upset every merperson although its effects were generally minimal. Disagreements sprang up faster and lingered into the following days. The king lost his temper with two of his daughters who had been quarreling over mermen and even Flounder had a temporary falling out with his new fish companion. As he proceeded to spend the next few days at Ariel's side the fact that she'd been altered in some indescribable way became increasingly apparent. She chatted with him a little, very flippantly between tasks, never allowing the conversation to go beyond carefully structured topics.
Flounder had been by the princess' side long enough to tell when something was troubling her. Ariel threw herself into things for many reasons – fascination, rebellion, spontaneity. The little fish had certainly heard the rumours about Ariel's supposed lover but he was inclined to think the matter was more complicated than that. For his mermaid friend to do something as conventional as sulk over a lover's quarrel was against her nature. Ariel burned fiercely whatever she did and this Ariel who spoke little, staring intently into space and closing herself off from the world troubled Flounder. Sooner or later he knew the emotional dam would burst and what consequences would result the fish could only begin to fathom.
On the night of the concert every prominent, along with some less prominent, musical personages were indeed in attendance. Entertainers of quality had traveled to the palace for a chance at recognition and advancement. Every act was performed well and remembered for some impressive aspect. Several choral groups inspired their audience with representations of how varied yet moving mervoices were from all parts of the sea. Those who had a special interest taken in them were shuffled into the propositioner's quarters early the next morning.
When Ariel swept onto the stage in a dress of rippling silver and streaks of pale pink every merperson sat up a bit higher. Triton's daughters were known for their vocal skills but the youngest had a reputation for being the highlight. Not before that night had Ariel floated alone on the stage, the responsibility of pulling off a show solely on her small shoulders. Remarkably, as she gazed out at those hundreds of dimly illuminated faces, Ariel found herself unaffected by nerves or paralysis. She waited a few breathless moments in which the audience, unused to silence, shifted in their seats, wondering if the princess had lost her nerve. Ariel was gathering the song in her belly, letting it rise up past her heart where unnamed feelings uncoiled and infused themselves in the first bold notes from her throat.
The piece was not very long and was not meant to be. It was the reflection of a series of emotions that can never be accurately described, even with song. The mermaid took her audience on a journey up to levels of excited adrenaline, evened it out with a retrospective lilt, and then restored a hint of the initial energy, now void of its recklessness. The last few phrases were of a longing heart that, despite its sadness, was warmed by the promise of better things and a soft melody that married every section into a cohesive whole. The room was silent when the princess finished and remained silent after she'd glided off of the stage.
"No one knew what to think!" Sebastian told her, fairly dancing with excitement. "But they loved it. Oh Ariel, sometimes silence is the highest praise. You hit every note spot on girl! Not a thing over or underdone."
Ariel smiled dazedly, as though peering out at him from inside a dream. "Thank you Sebastian. I think I'll go to bed now."
"Yes, yes for now. We'll see about it all in the morning."
Flounder caught up with Ariel in her room where she was methodically undressing, still under the influence of her song's energy. This energy, however, was not of the same intoxicating nature it had been since the piece's inception. Performing the song before an enraptured audience had somehow changed it for the princess. Now that her creation was out in the open it felt hollow and without merit. She couldn't define why but Ariel felt disturbingly sullied, barely able to look at herself long enough to remove the pins holding her hair.
"You were brilliant Ariel! What a performance, you're sure to get some grand attention – a chance to go to the hot sea maybe. And the way you caught up those notes – I felt as though I was one with them you know –."
"Flounder." Ariel's tone wiped every feeling from his round little body. "Please leave me alone."
Shocked Flounder could think of no suitable response, reluctantly abandoning Ariel to her thoughts.
"I was right about one thing," the princess told the reflection in the seashell looking glass, "the performance has helped me discover what I must do."
The little mermaid made sure she looked just as she was comfortable; hair loose, clamshell bra fitted pleasingly over her chest, face free of paint. She was not much without all the finery but Ariel knew it was who she wanted to be. Without a second thought she slipped out through the bedroom door, past the still packed concert hall and into the Atlantian city. With a powerful kick of her vibrant green tail the mermaid sped off into the cold, dark expanses of the open ocean.
Belle paced relentlessly in her beige and cream fall dress, lips sucking on a finger as her mind whirled. "I just don't feel right taking advantage of prince Eric's goodness. But how is a woman to make her way in the world? Oh I can clean and sew and garden but there are so few protections for young unmarried women with no families."
"It's unlike you to be so daunted by the odds Belle." Adam leant back against the wall of his shed, unable to imagine how his strong-willed and attractive friend could fail at anything.
Belle was also having trouble understanding why staying another month in Eric's home was making her so restless. The prince had insisted that she and Adam remain for a while longer – he'd never had so much spark in his life he'd said – and Adam, though always aware of his place back in France, did not want to leave Belle or, he admitted, Ilse. Belle did not want the farm girl or her giant friend to be separated either. She had not forgotten the stipulations around Adam's curse. The affection between Ilse and Adam was growing stronger and the longer they stayed the greater the chance that the two would learn to love one another.
"He might ask you to marry him and then you wouldn't have to worry about making your own way."
Belle froze. Beast had hit on the source of her discontent. "I could never marry him Adam, and that's why it feels so wrong to stay. I feel like I'll give him the wrong idea, that he'll grow too attached to me and then I'll have to hurt him, even after all he's done for us." She sat down hard on a creaking stool, her dress puffing out on all sides. "I want to have some sort of plan so he knows I'm not just refusing him because I can. I would love to come back and live with you but even there I would feel too indebted to stay without providing some service. I'm just not sure what to do with myself."
Reaching across the small space Adam laid a hairy hand on Belle's shoulder. "At least you have sense enough not to love that starched figure of ideal manhood."
Belle shot him a sideways smile with one eyebrow raised, unsure if he was being sincere or humourous.
"I wondered for a while. You both do make a nice couple and you're good company. Eric even makes you laugh once in a while but he's too… good. Not that you don't deserve someone who's 'good' for you Belle but… Eric, there's no fight in him. He'll do everything that's proper but leave you hungry for an intensity he cannot provide. Look at what you've done woman… you've turned me into an irrational romantic!"
Belle laughed freely, jumping up to hug him. "I couldn't have said it better myself and being a romantic is so much more interesting than strictly moral."
"Well, a little freedom from pure goodness once in a while certainly has its charm but don't go turning into a self-obsessed hooligan like I was. The world needs more people like you and less like me."
"Less like the old you." She gave him one of the behind the ear scratches he loved but never admitted to enjoying. "I'm afraid I should adjourn from our little chat, I understand that Ilse will be by soon so I'd best clear out and give you both some alone time. You get so little of it with me always hovering."
Beast shook his head at her as she exited his shed. The talk had improved Belle's mood but she still had no real plans for the future. Outside the sun was at its highest but the wind was biting. Fall certainly has made itself known. The French woman wandered back to the palace and whiled away the afternoon with Max in the garden which, with its large trees and building to one side, shielded them from most of the cold blasts. Eric's dog had seemingly boundless amounts of energy so when Belle tired of playing she closed him in a good sized run constructed by her and Gibbons, the groundskeeper. The yard contained several of Max's favourite toys as well as a stuffed bird on a rolling wire that he could run back and forth with. Sometimes she would read while monitoring him but recent days instead found Belle watching the dog's antics as her mind wandered. That afternoon she thought of nothing in particular, staring into the unknown until Macy called her in for dinner.
Having restored Max to his kennel Belle joined Eric at the dinner table. Her usual routine consisted of sharing only the afternoon meal with Adam unless Eric's business kept him out late. The extra help Belle and Adam provided around the palace, as well as the level of secrecy required concerning Adam's existence, meant that Eric had given his normal staff more time off. There were not many of them to begin with since Eric's abode was not expansive, the regular staff consisting of nine individuals. If they resented the lost hours Belle never heard them complain. Although, had they vocalized some dissent, she was sure Eric would have procured them alternative employment or provided reasonable compensation.
Rather than harbouring any resentment over the circumstances, as Belle feared he might, Eric seemed to consider the whole situation a sort of exciting adventure game in which he kept a mystery safely within his walls – or grounds. Belle was never really surprised by Eric but she did marvel at his ability to be both boyish and mature. He kept a light humour about most things but his kingdom's affairs were never neglected or jeopardized by personal interest. If Eric had suspected that Beast was a menace he would have confined him until a course of action could be decided. Some would have considered Eric's willingness to let Adam wander freely after only an initial meeting careless and naïve but Eric put great stock in his gut-feelings about people and claimed that they had never served him wrong.
A simple bruschetta made with fresh tomatoes, basil and baguette was waiting for Belle in the dining room, her mouth-watering at the tantalizing aroma. Beside the two pieces of bread a garden salad with orange vinaigrette leant its own subtle essence to the yellow-tinged room. Eric, like many of his kinsmen, had a taste for good wine so the evening meal rarely found itself unmarried to a suitable beverage. The prince was taking a sip of that night's variety as Belle entered, her casual outfit exchanged for a more appropriate evening gown. The country girl was still not entirely comfortable with this habit of changing clothes every time one changed activities but nor was she going to show disrespect to her host by lounging about in work attire. Despite their friendliness Belle still felt the social distance separating them, yet another difference between her relationship with Eric versus Adam.
"Good evening Belle."
"Good evening Eric." Her smile was genuine but she found herself wishing that, once in a while, she could eat in solitude. "I trust the setback in dock repairs has been rectified?"
Eric inclined his head. "Yes, that headache has finally blown over. There should be only the regular harvesting and shipping arrangements now. Hopefully the Chapman and Micheals tension does not rear its head during negotiations. Lovers scandals seem to create waves several times larger than the initial ripple."
"If left unsettled discontent does tend to fester."
"I suppose there is some blessing in being relatively free to choose my own bride. I have no immediate family to dictate criteria, although Grimsby certainly reminds me of the expectations for those in my social class. Should I fall in love, however, I am determined to marry the girl. Happiness is a fragile thing that one should grab at before something snatches it away, wouldn't you agree Belle?"
Belle did agree, one hundred percent, but this topic of conversation was making her extremely uncomfortable. It was too similar to the discussion she and Adam had shared just earlier that day. "Yes I would Eric but I also think that circumstances should be taken into consideration. If the woman and man want to be together strongly enough they will overcome all odds to do so but nor should they toss aside every other care or responsibility. The world would be complete chaos otherwise. Some balance must be achieved to serve both the couple and society at large."
"And if society should disagree with the union?"
"Well… each situation is unique and must therefore be individually dealt with." She took another bite of bruschetta to prevent nervous explosions of speech from escaping her. Why had Eric suddenly wanted to talk about love? Oh please let it not be anything to do with her! Some girl in the village perhaps...
The two ate in companionable silence for the majority of the meal, Eric's mind occupied with hidden matters while Belle tried not to read more into their exchange than was warranted.
"I was thinking –," the prince began halfway through their strawberry pudding.
Belle held her breath.
"- that a dance might help to hasten the courtship of our two lovebirds." After a couple minutes of quiet Eric decided his idea required further explanation. "Adam and Ilse have developed quite an attachment for one another and I wish to encourage this by providing some atmosphere. Obviously the affair will have to be relatively low key but once Macy and Mrs. Dalies have gone over the ballroom I don't foresee a problem with the four of us concocting our own night of splendor. We could have a tasty but simple meal prepared ahead of time, serve it ourselves, and I can try out the new Pianola cousin Elgrene gave me. It should be a nice affair, void of the political undercurrents I usually encounter at fancy balls. Just an evening of friendly banter and possibility. What do you think Belle?"
What did she think? She thought it was wonderful for Eric to be encouraging Adam and Ilse. The cursed prince's birthday was a short two months away so any prodding those two had in the direction of romance was certainly worthwhile. But there would be only four of them: two and two. While she and Eric were giving the lovers their space they would be left in each other's company in a candlelit ballroom with rich orchestral music. The only thing Belle feared more than Eric getting to bended knee and proposing to her was her own romantic sentimentality which might, under such circumstances, lead her to accept.
"That's a wonderful idea Eric. Thank you for thinking of Adam and Ilse. I hope with all my being that she will be the one to break his curse."
The pair parted with the smiles of conspirators but Belle found herself unable to sleep that night, her mind running in heated circles around thoughts that appeared to have no clear resolution. At one am she decided that maybe a walk would help to calm her brain. Wrapping a robe around her cotton nightgown she strode out into the side garden.
The wind had died sometime during the evening leaving a still, cool world in its wake. A crescent moon gave enough light for Belle to see the colourless outlines of trees and shrubs swaying ever so slightly in the constant sea breath. Gently lapping waves tumbled over one another in the faint light, stretching out into the endless shape of the clear ocean. The quiet whispers in the foliage, however, only served to raise Belle's nerves as she spotted shining orbs out of the corners of her eyes. This world where she worked so comfortably in daylight now seemed alien and hostile to her. As irrational as it was, she decided to walk down to the beach where she hoped the sheltered path and constant splashing would soothe her worried consciousness.
Belle lost her footing once on the way down, sending a small cascade of rocks and pebbles over the sides of the steps. Upon touching sand the peace she'd been seeking enveloped her like a warm embrace. It's odd how I should feel so akin to water since the storm. Rather than fearing the element as she'd expected to after such an event, Belle held a deep respect for the ocean and its moods. She remembered the terror and desperation of that fearful night but it wouldn't have kept her from boarding another ship. Belle had made peace with her traumatic experience, coming to the conclusion that it had given her as much or more than it had taken away.
Her sober thoughts came to an abrupt halt as an airy voice reached her ears. Freezing Belle tried to catch the sound again, all other shreds of contemplation melting from her. It was so soft at first that she thought it was the sea wind whispering through the rocks and reeds but as she waited it began to grow stronger, taking on eerie yet rich tones.
I know that voice. Her heart rate was speeding up, her feet leading her towards the source of that otherworldly music. The words were French but French spoken in a way Belle had never heard before. The meaning of them barely registered for her, so caught up was she in the hypnotic power of the swirling emotions projected in that female voice.
Belle continued walking, her bare feet crunching through the cool sand, approaching the source of her ethereal rescuer. Just beyond those rocks. She didn't rush, didn't want to startle the person and break the spell. When she was just a few yards away the song came to an abrupt and violent halt, loud splashing disrupting the nightly calm. In a panic Belle rushed forward but when she reached the rock formation that had concealed the performer there was nothing but muddy water to see. Stumbling several steps into the sea Belle soaked her clothes to the knees, succeeding only in making herself very cold. Bitter tears formed in her luminous brown eyes.
Now even the sea is taunting me. She stood shaking until the cold had left her body almost completely numb then, with a heavy sigh, Belle made her way out of the water and back up the beach. In the seconds before she'd reached the rocks Belle thought she'd seen a flash of red whip into the dim light but that had, of course, been only a cruel trick of the autumn night.
