STEFFAN had heard the master of the castle speaking often of locating the acclaimed mermaid who had saved his life from drowning, though never in a million years did the Prince's counselor and friend think that the day would come when Eric had found her.

Though if the man were to take his beloved wife at her word, which his wife's word had always been her bond, her trust, then Eric had brought the siren back. He twisted the wedding band he wore around his finger as the beginnings of an affectionate grin tugged the edges of his mouth upwards. Despite the age difference between him and his beloved wife, he was almost six summers older than his sweet Molly, at age eighteen, she could, at times, have an overactive and sensitive imagination that would get away with her while she struggled to entertain herself throughout their long days spent at the castle.

Steffan had been disappointed when he'd poked his head in through the doors of the chamber at Grimsby's request upon the old man hearing him pass through the hall outside. He had been almost vexed to see that the young redhead in the bed, though a beauty, was human.

She could not possibly be a mermaid unless if by witch's curse, and that was nothing to be taken so lightly. If she was, then... A violent shudder went down the man's back. He almost didn't even want to entertain the notion.

He came to a stop in front of the door that led to the Prince's private solar and thought of whether or not to announce himself before entering and then decided against it.

Steffan gingerly pushed against the door with his one good hand, his left hand had been claimed in an injury during one of the realm's wars, a few years ago. It had become a point of insecurity for him when he'd woken up in the makeshift medical tent along the battlefield to find a priest of a nearby temple bandaged his bloodied and wounded stump where his hand used to be. He'd made it back to Eric's side in a daze, victorious at having won the battle in the name of the Prince, yet short a hand It was not long after that the nursemaid Carlotta's niece, Molly, a cute blonde maid who at the time of his return, was new to her role, had taken an interest in him, despite his well, handicap, for lack of a better word. She had shamelessly flirted with him for months until he had come to his senses and asked to court her.

Within six months of their admittedly whirlwind courtship, much to Carlotta's delight who was thrilled to see the only family she had left find the love of a good man, they were wedded and had been happily married ever since.

Steffan paused in the door, letting himself have a moment to take in the sight of his best friend and his wife, as Molly was standing awkwardly to the left side of the Prince's chair as the chair's back was paraded to him and thus, Eric did not see Steffan. The master was looking so morose and his expression as grim as a grave that for a moment, Steffan wondered if the Prince was paying much attention to anything, even the sound of his wife's sweet voice trying to coax him to look at her, and to take a bite off of his meals.

The Prince's counselor curiously flicked his tray towards a tray that rested nearby on a small wooden side table. The food, boiled mutton, a steaming bowl of onion soup, a hard crust of bread, and several small wedges of Brie cheese, lay cold and untouched, and so did the second tray Molly had brought as well.

Steffan stared with widened green eyes, hardly daring to believe it.

Prince Eric had never fawned over a woman quite like he was now, and so to see the Prince of the realm behave in this manner was new.

Very, very new to take in the sight of. Steffan wasn't sure that he liked the look.

Molly, as if sensing the two were being watched, lifted her gaze in his direction and the sight of her wide doe-like brown eyes caused the familiar seeping pressure in his chest to constrict until it felt as though he could hardly breathe.

She smiled a cautious smile to her husband, though the sweet look on her pretty pink lips was not to last as her face fell, crestfallen, and her shoulders slumped in disappointment when the Prince refused yet again the second tray she'd brought.

Molly huffed and swiped a stray strand of her pale blonde hair out of the way that fell about her face in stray wisps and strands and looked towards her husband for help.

"Steffan, my love, would you please tell our pigheaded Prince here that he needs to eat at least something I brought him? Not only is Louis in the kitchens going to be bloody upset with me if I bring all this food back untouched, but he might also just keel over of a complaint of a heart if I do," she murmured, though a light ignited in her eyes as the young maid came to understand that Chef Louis's death would perhaps not be the worst thing in the world.

She bit down her lip to suppress the giggle that tried to escape and Steffan chewed on the wall of his cheek to keep his laughter suppressed.

The Frenchman was loud, boisterous, and more times often than not, rude, though his culinary skills left most who tasted his food speechless, and for this reason, Eric allowed him to stay on.

Molly's brown eyes sparkled and, in her face, it was hinted that the maid held a keen sort of quiet intelligence about her and more than a vivid imagination as she looked to her husband for help and stepped towards him, stretching out a hand to take Steffan's good hand.

"My love," she chirped in a voice that was almost singsong and melodious. "Perhaps you will have better luck than I have. Our friend will not eat anything. He's worried about the mermaid he brought back."

Steffan nodded in understanding, giving Molly's hand a gentle but reassuring squeeze, and stepped forward to rest his good hand on the back of the Prince's chair.

"Your Highness, Molly's right, and this is one of the rare times she is," he told him, a slight teasing lilt in his voice which earned him an eye roll from the blonde and a sock to his arm. It hurt, though he ignored it and continued in favor of his argument, though he turned his head slightly to the side and shot Molly a furtive little wink. "You do need to eat, Eric. You ate nothing this morning before you left, and you won't do that girl, Ariel, any good if you pass out from exhaustion," he pointed out, pleased to see that his truthful and quite blunt words hit their mark the moment the young redhead's name was brought up.

With almost painstaking slowness, Eric reached for the tray of food that was closest to him and shoveled a small wedge of one of the cheese blocks in his mouth, nibbling on it tentatively, though he did not look hungry.

This was proven when he stubbornly shoved the tray away from him.

Steffan exchanged a knowing look with Molly and silently nodded as his wife was about to open her mouth to protest, that it was a lost battle.

She let out a sigh and motioned for the Prince's Old English Sheepdog, Max, who had been dozing lazily on the bear pelt rug in front of the fire in the hearth, for the dog to follow her outside. The maid paused when she got to the doorway and lingered for a moment to peer over her shoulder at Steffan, who could only eye his wife longingly as she disappeared, taking the warmth from the room with her, the bright ray of sunshine that she was.

She furrowed her thinly plucked brows into a frown and gestured towards the food on the Prince's tray with a curt jerk of her thumb.

"Make sure he eats," was all Molly said to Steffan as she stooped down at the waist to give Max a little bit of one of the bacon strips upon hearing the Sheepdog whine and practically beg for a morsel of the bacon strip still dripping in oil. She gave her husband another soft smile and a playful head tilt before turning on her heels and quietly closing the door behind her.

"Eat, and if you don't, then I'll be forced to shove that food so far down your throat you'll be shitting it out seconds later, and you can ask Molly, she's seen me do it to a few soldiers in our garrison in times past, it's something of a small miracle, but I really would rather not do that to you, Eric, as your friend, so eat," Steffan commanded in a voice that was beginning to reveal the slightest twinges of impatience towards his friend's lack of appetite. "I did not come from the bloody other ends of the castle to hear Mol tell me you won't eat. Eat, and you should check on the girl. She should see you, Eric," he pointed out, his words blunt and harsher than he would have liked, for he saw Eric blearily lift his gaze to him, confused.

When Eric still said nothing, he sensed that a change in tactic was in order, and tried again, though the older man fought not to roll his eyes to the ceiling as he came to stand in front of the Prince's chair, his back to the fireplace, and eyed his friend with a rueful glower.

"Is it the marriage proposals?" he asked, half hoping that Eric would say yes, and thus the reason for the Prince's foul mood would at least be known, then.

He had the surprise of seeing Eric's cheeks flush. If Eric did not know better, he would think from Steffan's tone of voice and the way he was looking at him now meant that he knew his little scheme, but it was clear from the older man's stance and his posture he didn't know it.

Eric furrowed his brows into a frown and all but scowled at Steffan as he turned to look at his friend and advisor who had turned from a lifetime of war on the frontlines when he'd lost his hand and instead, devoted his life to a lifetime of peace and happiness with Molly.

"Grimsby would see me married soon to a princess if he has it his way, Stef," he told him, his voice sounding distant and flat, with no emotions at all.

"I know," Steffan said plainly and let a little grunt escape past his lips as he quirked a brow at Eric in surprise. "As your advisor, Highness, I was there when Grimsby made the announcement, Eric."

Eric nodded, a faint pink blush speckling along his cheeks. Of course, Steffan knew, as did Molly. At this point, he was sure the entire castle staff knew it.

One look at Steffan's face told him that his friend was unimpressed.

"He will be wishing that I choose a bride soon. He's wanting to host a ball here in the ballroom in hopes that I find the girl of my dreams," he informed him softly, making an odd noise of dissent through his nose that sounded like a snort. Steffan said nothing, staying silent.

If only Grimsby could know the girl who had haunted his dreams ever since the shipwreck was a few doors down, asleep, hopefully resting, and would wake soon so that he could talk to her.

If only Grimsby could know that he was not interested in marrying a princess from a neighboring kingdom. The only girl that he had ever taken an interest in was so close to him, and yet, he had never felt so cold and alone, so isolated.

The walls that separated them now might as well have been a hundred feet thick. He let out a frustrated sigh and buried his hands in his hair, his black locks sticky every which way as they entangled the Prince's slender fingers.

"I do not want to marry just anyone, I want….her," he confessed to Steffan with a pained grimace as he noticed out of the corner of his lowered gaze his friend give him something close to a mocking smile. Steffan stepped off to the side and his entire face was illuminated by the fire in the hearth, the handsome man that Molly's husband was.

Eric groaned the moment the words were out of his mouth, realizing how pathetic he sounded. He did not even know Ariel, and yet, she permeated his thoughts.

"You don't have much choice in the matter, my friend," Steffan told Eric, and he thought he caught a hint of sympathy in the older man's voice. "The laws dictate that you must marry a woman of noble blood. If you wish your claim to the throne to remain intact, then you will find yourself a suitable bride."

Steffan thought he saw the beginnings of understanding on Eric's face but still, the Prince was not about to let himself believe it, and rose to his feet, still running his fingers through his hair and beginning to pace a small line back and forth in front of the fireplace.

His lips twitched as he fought back a smile. He had never seen the master so rattled.

"Perhaps this mermaid of yours is a princess, Eric, and your problem will be solved," he told his friend, slightly teasing him.

Eric opened his mouth as if to protest, though before the Prince could say another word, the door to his private solar creaked open and a shy young maid poked her head in through the door, stating that the doctor's work was completed and the lady Ariel was awake, and asking to speak with him.

Eric nodded and informed the maid he would be there shortly and tried to ignore the burn of Steffan's gaze as he quickly strode towards the door. He paused and gave his friend a curt nod and Molly's husband's little smirk only increased.

"Who knows, Your Highness, maybe in time, it will be love, and your mermaid will sing you the most beautiful song you ever did hear, like she did when she rescued you," Steffan told him, teasing the Prince, and Eric swung the door shut hard, not in the mood to be toyed with.

He knew that Steffan did not believe him, not quite like Molly did, that his friend was not so superstitious as to believe in the gods of the sea, but it was hard to ignore how Steffan's eyes had looked at him as he hurried his way down the corridor to greet Ariel again, the man's catlike dark green eyes twinkling and smiling.


TENSION met him almost immediately when he entered the spare guest bedroom and found the young redhead propped up against a mountain of pillows against the bed's headboard, the dark circles under her eyes looking a little less prominent, but she still appeared very pale.

Nevertheless, she seemed to perk up a bit upon seeing Eric as he nervously moved away from the door's entryway and moved to stand at the foot of her bed, awkwardly fidgeting with his hands. Eric wracked his brain and tried to think of something to say to her.

"Y-you're awake," he breathed, mentally cringing as he realized how breathless he sounded and cursed himself for sounding like a lovestruck fool in front of this young lady that he did not know. Taking a moment to compose himself, he tried again. "Can you remember anything at all?"

She shook her head no shyly and flicked her gaze down to her lap.

"Thanks to your people, I am feeling much better, sir, though I wish I could remember anything of what happened, I'm afraid it's all a blur," she whispered, and her voice was so faint, if Eric had not already been straining his ears to hear, he'd have missed her words completely. She steadily lifted her gaze to him and smiled. "Thank you for…for bringing me back, and for letting the doctor look at me. That was…very kind of you to do. You could have left me out in the marketplace to fend for myself, but you didn't. You brought me back here. You did not have to do that but...I am...grateful for your kindness, Your Highness. Truly, I am."

She looked at him expectantly, truly grateful but also overcome with awkwardness.

Eric chuckled, reddening.

"I-it was the least I could do, milady, I could not just leave you out there on the streets with nowhere to go. I-I was hoping that, since you don't seem to have anywhere else to go now, with your friend dead, that you would consider staying on and becoming a maid for us. My best friend Molly, she's a maid here too and close to your age. She'd be happy to show you the ropes. I wouldn't feel right in sending you away if you've nowhere else to go. Will you stay?"

Ariel felt like her head was swimming with all that this man had described. She was still not over the shock and revelation that the young man in front of her was the Prince, the doctor had informed her when she'd woken that the Prince wished to speak to her, and she had not hesitated in requesting he be sent for, but when he walked in the door and revealed himself to be the handsome young man from the marketplace, she'd not been able to believe.

She knew that she needed a place to stay now that Elise was gone and before Ariel could change her mind, almost as if in a dream, she heard her voice answering the young Prince.

"It would be my honor to stay here," she told the Prince, regarding Eric with a clear and determined confidence she'd learned from somewhere, though she could not quite place it. She was pleased to see the Prince smile happily in response and he eagerly nodded.

"I believe that you will be happy here," he told her, smiling softly. Ariel lowered her head.

"Thank you, Your Grace," she accepted.

"Eric, milady," he told her, blushing. "J-just call me Eric. I prefer it, if I may call you Ariel." His voice was barely above a whisper.

She nodded, her blush intensifying and she was too shy to speak for some reason and looked away for a moment to collect her thoughts. She felt for some reason as though her agreement should have given her a sense of trepidation and apprehension, or at least a greater sadness at the thought of leaving Elise's hut, the only place she had ever called home. But she could not explain why, but once her decision had been announced and her mind made up that she had decided to stay, all that was left within her heart was a growing sense of excitement.

She would be working in the castle for the royal family, an opportunity most girls in the village could only dream of. This was one such chance she could not waste, and Ariel had not felt hopeful in so long that she thought it was good to have something to look forward to, a challenge in life once again. She smiled as she looked into Eric's face.

Then a thought occurred to her, something that she had almost forgotten, and a tiny gasp of surprise escaped her lips.

"Elise, Your Highness, her-her body...will she…will she be buried properly and put to rest?"

"Yes," he started to tell her, though before Eric could offer her more details and the comforting reassurance that the woman she had been living with would be given a proper burial, her body laid to rest, a shadow appeared from the entrance to the corridor.

Eric felt the hope in his chest deflate at seeing Ariel's face go stricken as a small servant girl scurried into the room, the misery and dread written all over her harried features.

She ignored Ariel completely and made a beeline straight for Eric, Eric's hand instinctively clenching into a fist as the servant girl fell to her knees, trembling and terrified.

"Y-Your Highness, f-forgive, b-but the body of that old woman y-you asked a few of the men to fetch, it….she….she's gone."