ARIEL was beginning to lose count of how many times Eric had reassured her the following morning that the wise witch who lived at the edge of the village of Ipswich, Maggie, would help her. That she had nothing to be afraid of. If only it were that simple, she thought bitterly to herself. She was unsure why she could not bring herself to trust this so-called witch, but she harbored a twinge of caution towards an old woman she had not even met yet. Ariel did not understand it. Terror rooted itself deeply into the pit of her stomach and only the tempered strength of Prince Eric's hand wound around her waist kept her from turning her heel and fleeing altogether now.
They moved through the bustling streets of the village as swiftly and quietly as she could, with the hood of Ariel's cloak pulled up over her face to disguise her features. She stiffened as she caught sight of a few people whispering about her and Eric as they passed. She felt her cheeks turn hot and her stomach flutter. She could only imagine these people were assuming the very worst.
It seemed to take them an eternity to reach the witch's hut, little more than a tumbledown shack that looked as though one good gust of a strong sea breeze would topple it right over. A lazy plume of smoke curled from the slightly crooked chimney, indicating that the witch was within its walls. She cast a hesitant glance toward Eric and chewed on her bottom lip as her handsome Prince nodded. She returned the nod with one of her own and raised her knuckles to knock. She felt little beads of sweat break out over her forehead as she wondered what on earth this wise woman could possibly do to help restore her memories. Ariel's knocks became more urgent, fast rapid knocks with her knuckles. She was about to start on her third round of heavy wraps on the old woman's front door when it flung wide open. The witch called Maggie stood before her. Ariel curiously looked over the weathered old crone's face, careworn and lined with time.
Her eyes widened as she arched her neck. Her resolve almost failed her, and Ariel almost turned around to run away, but Eric holding onto her hand kept her from doing so. The witch called Maggie was shriveled and bent over. She looked to be not much more than a worn street rat of a beggar, her clothes tattered and torn. Her gray hair was roughly sliced to shoulder length, much like Ariel's was now after her meltdown last night. The woman's skin looked yellow in some places and in other spots, it was green. The witch smiled at the Prince and Ariel standing on the stoop of her hut with a toothy grin that suggested to Ariel she already knew why they'd come.
"Beggin' your pardon, Highness, but you are very nearly late," she chortled, chuckling, a deep throaty rasp from the back of her throat. "Almost fifteen minutes. Was beginnin' to think you would now turn up. Another five minutes and I'd have considered ya both a lost cause, Your Majesty. You're lucky you caught me before I went off to the marketplace," she snorted, though her green eyes twinkled.
Eric shot the old woman a sheepish grin, a faint pink flush spreading along his cheeks as he reached up a hand to the back of his neck and rubbed it gingerly as he looked towards Ariel, now looking a little nervous himself. She wondered as to the shift in the man's countenance if he was beginning to have his doubts about bringing her here.
"I'm very sorry, Maggie, we were, er…late in getting out the door. Old Grims, you know, always asking questions," Eric apologized, lowering his head in reverence toward the woman who was beneath him in status, mindful of his courtesies, as Maggie was perhaps the one he trusted most to help, and he did not want to appear ungrateful at all.
Maggie furrowed her eyebrows which were so fair they were barely there but she nodded and stepped to the side. She opened the door wide enough to allow Eric and Ariel to enter. Ariel entered alongside Eric and lowered the hood of her cloak, feeling every fiber and muscle in her body tighten as the heavy thud of the door closing shut behind her had her swallowing hard. She suddenly felt cold.
Ariel turned and watched the old woman totter her way toward a round table in the center of the room. It looked as though that was where the witch normally took her meals. The one-room hut was dark, lit only by a minuscule blaze in the hearth on the far side of the room that could barely pass as a fire. Other than that, the room was sparse, impersonal, and empty.
It seemed that this land witch, Maggie, was a woman of simple tastes and one who preferred owning little.
Ariel respected that and nearly jumped out of her skin as the old woman spoke softly.
"So, young lass, you are in need of having your memories restored to you, is that it?" Maggie questioned, turning to look at her with her head tilted to the side. She could now see the wise woman was studying her, lingering on her newly shorn hair as the choppy ends fell in wisps and stray strands to just below her chin, and at the dark circles underneath her eyes which were becoming worse as her dreams worsened.
"Yes, please," Ariel whispered, shyly, suddenly too timid to meet the witch's eyes, though she felt the burn of the old woman's piercing eyes of catlike green threatening to burn a hole through the side of her skull.
The woman's expression softened a bit upon seeing how hesitant Ariel was becoming.
"Fear not, missy. I mean ye no harm here in my home. I serve the young master here, and I only wish to help you. I can see it. You've been touched by another witch's magic, Dark magic indeed, lass. Sit."
The old woman spoke commandingly as she gestured towards an empty chair that was in dire need of a new leg or two.
Ariel could only comply and curiously looked around the witch's home at the few items she did own. Dusty jars and old wooden crockery bowls and plates seemed to fill every empty space of the interior of this witch's hut, and the thick smell of spices lingered in the bitter air.
But Ariel barely noticed any of it, her attention solely fixed on the chalice that the wise witch held in her hands, from which a foul-smelling aroma was emanating. Ariel pulled a face and crinkled her nose in disgust as she looked at the goblet in the witch's wrinkled and arthritic claws for hands. The cup had once been golden, though now looked tarnished due to age.
She could see an engraving of a cobra snake on the cup's base, snaking its way up the stem and curling around the golden cup.
As she nervously sat down and got herself situated, she swallowed hard and blinked back her tears as her hostess came to stand in front of her and held the cup out to her.
"Drink this, dearie, every last drop. Fair warning, I'm a shite brewer and it will probably taste no better than piss, but it should restore your memories. T'is a tonic."
Ariel glanced down at the murky tea in her cup which smelled faintly of grass clippings. Not at all appetizing or soothing in the least. She exchanged a worried glance towards Eric, who did not look at all pleased, though, with a curt nod of his head, he silently told her to drink it without him having to open his mouth and say a word. She nervously tilted the goblet to her lips and barely took a small sip and shuddered. It was an effort not to gag it back up, the drink was easily the foulest thing she thought she had ever consumed in her life.
The tea was bitter and burned going down her throat, scalding hot as it was, or perhaps that was the effect of whatever the witch had slipped into her drink in hopes of restoring her memories. She felt her face burn with humiliation and she shoved the cup away.
Maggie bounded forward and tilted the cup to her lips, forcing more tea down her throat.
"You must drink it all, dearie, great evil hangs over you. This will ward off any evil surrounding you and as I said, you will remember your old life soon enough. It is rich but it is effective. I will make more for you to take later tonight," she told Ariel.
Ariel bravely nodded and tried to smile, though as she pinched her nose and forced herself to down the last of the disgusting drink and fought against the urge to vomit, she shuddered at the idea of drinking anymore.
"I—I will finish it all, I promise," she gasped, leaning back against the chair once she was finished and resting her hands over her stomach. She winced as a sharp pain suddenly thrashed through her abdomen.
Her third or fourth pain in the last three seconds, almost instantly coming to her the minute she had finished drinking the brew.
With a sigh of impatience, Ariel hesitantly lifted her gaze to the wise witch.
Suddenly, she thought she needed a deeper connection with this woman who was helping her out of the goodness of her heart and was asking for nothing from the Prince in return, not even his money. She noticed, however, out of the corner of her gaze, Eric remove the small pouch of a hundred gold coins and set it on her table whilst Maggie's gaze was fixated solely upon her.
She seemed to be searching Ariel's eyes for something, though Ariel could not say for certain what.
"How are you feeling, dearie?" Maggie asked curiously, the expression on her face strangely placid and thoughtful as her green eyes seemed to penetrate deep through Ariel's pleading blue eyes, still searching.
"I—" Ariel started to say, though a sudden blast of nausea made her shiver as another sharp, shooting pain shot through her midsection. She brought a hand over her stomach and groaned loudly as she doubled over. Eric, her sweet Eric, was right by her side in minutes, already holding her hand and whispering softly into the shell of her ear she'd be fine.
"This is too much for you, Ariel, I—I shouldn't have brought you here, I'm so sorry," Eric stammered, pulling back slightly to study her face, which had gone pale and was now clammy, something that neither one of them anticipated.
Ariel shook her head and tried to be brave, though it was obvious to both of them and to Maggie that the young redhead was not well.
She shook her head as little drops of sweat began to glitter along her hairline. Somehow gathering enough strength in her throat, Ariel managed to answer. "N-no, I—I'm fine, Eric."
But she was not at all certain about her own self-diagnosis and she could tell Eric did not believe her.
From somewhere distant, she heard Maggie speak, though the old woman's voice was distant and muffled. She sounded as though she were speaking to Ariel underwater.
"Yes, dearie, you will be."
The chalice of tea slipped from her fingers and she felt the material vibrate as it clattered loudly against the floor. The rest of the tea that spilled moved slowly across the floor and began to seep through the hem of her dress. Horrible heat spasms began to spread across her body, wave after wave. And then, a series of memoirs rolled through her head in a flash of knowing so strong, it stole the breath from her lungs and her lungs began to heavily burn. Her vision began to blur and everything in the little hut seemed to revolve.
Her lungs continued to burn and she could not even hear herself as she pleaded with Maggie to make it stop.
Her stomach heaved a pressure so horrible she thought she was going to vomit, and before she knew it, the strength below her knees gave out and she collapsed out of the chair and onto the floor. She squeezed her eyes shut as visions of merpeople's faces flashed in front of her eyes. Bile rose in her throat as she realized with a sickening jolt that she knew them. She remembered.
Her father's face, careworn and stern, but a loving father to her and her six sisters. Her six sisters, lips pursed in disapproval when she had swum to them the night she had saved Prince Eric's life and spoke of the handsome young man from topside with the electric blue eyes and rich shadow raven black hair. They had scoffed at her and warned her not to go getting any ideas regarding going to the surface.
Ursula's face, that damned spook of a sea witch. Making a deal. Her very soul in exchange for legs and her memory too as collateral.
And then, she felt Eric's arm encircling her small waist and gently pressed her against him, unflinching.
No. Please, no. Her tongue felt thick in her mouth and felt like clay when she tried to speak. "Shh…hush little poppet, it will all be over soon enough. Soon, little pet, you will be free," she heard Maggie's voice, though it was not her voice but the voice of the sea witch.
Ursula.
Ariel's eyes widened as she realized that she and Eric had been tricked, coming here was nothing more than a trap set for her, and the man she loved was in grave danger if he could not be fast enough to flee the hut and save himself. She did not understand why Ursula hated her so much and was willing to kill her own niece for whatever grudge existed between her and Triton.
"Poison…Eric...poison," she whispered in as strong a voice as she could muster and gave another slight push against Eric's chest in a feeble attempt to free herself so that he might flee, but it was no use. If anything, his grip on her tightened. He was not willing to let go.
Though spots were beginning to cloud her vision, even through the haze, she could see her Prince's handsome face now contorted in worry. Ariel thought she saw the beginnings of understanding flash across his face as she whispered the word poison, but Eric was not allowing himself to believe it.
She was sure to die here and now. Ursula has poisoned her and once her last breath had been plucked from her, she would have Ariel's soul and the deal was complete. She was dying. I…I'm dying…
When it quickly occurred to the young redhead that she was slowly fading from this world, it almost sent her mind insane.
I am dying…and I will be home soon. To the sea, where I belong. Back to Mother.
She was sure she was going to die now. This was it. She had failed, but at least her death would be swift and painless. Ursula was a creature of many things, but a monster, she was not. She could show mercy when it counted the very most. Ariel only wished she could know what was to become of Eric. And her new friends, Molly and Steffan. Even Carlotta and the cantankerous old Master Grimsby. If they would be okay.
She wondered if perhaps, they should have brought a guard or two with them for protection today, but none of that mattered against Ursula now. But what good could guards have done?
Their swords and sheer brute strength alone were no match for the sea witch.
Ariel had foolishly fallen right into Ursula's trap and now, she and the Prince were as good as dead.
The last thing she felt before her world went blank was a vicious tidal wave of hot, unbearable shame, and the last thing she heard before she slipped into sleep was the sound of Eric, calling her name.
