Impossible and Possible, a little mermaid fanfic

Impossible . . . and Possible

An Ariel and Eric Story

"Really now, Eric. How much longer is this nonsense of yours going to continue?"

Grimsby folded his arms, disapproval etched into the lines of his aged face. Not that Prince Eric could see said disapproval at the moment, what with the curtains of the young man's study drawn more tightly than Grimsby had ever seen, the moonlight and stars in the sky blotted out by the heavy fabric, enshrouding the room in darkness and shadow. Nor, Grimsby thought to himself, does it help that he's turned his chair away from me, just like he used to as a child when he didn't get his way.

"Go away, Grim."

The prince's voice seemed to barely rise above the back of the chair, so quiet was it to Grimsby's ears. The prince's advisor . . . guardian . . . friend furrowed his brow, flustered by his own inability to lift his charge from the throes of melancholy and bitterness.

"Unfortunately," Grimsby began, clearing his throat. "Unfortunately, Eric, I'm afraid neither my presence nor lack thereof will do anything to solve the situation at hand. Nor will any attempt on your part to find solace at the bottom of a bottle, for that matter."

A lackluster "Ha!" emanated from behind the chair. Grimsby's ears beheld the unmistakable sound of liquor being poured into a glass. The older man sighed. "How much have you had to drink, Eric?"

"Not nearly enough."

Grimsby sighed, shaking his head. "Be that as it may: After what happened this evening, the entire kingdom needs some reassurance from you that we aren't under attack from . . . well, whatever it is Vanessa turned out to be."

Grimsby paused, taking note of the fact that the prince's left hand clenched the armrest of his chair in a vicelike grip at the mention of his erstwhile fiancée.

"I thought she was dead."

Grimsby felt a chill run down his spine at the flat, emotionless tone audible in Eric's voice. The poor boy, he thought to himself. He's more traumatized than I realized.

He had saved them all, Grimsby had come to realize over the past few hours as he had tried to deal with the aftermath from the disaster aboard the wedding ship. He had barely been able to piece together the precise sequence of the day's events in his own mind, let alone keep the general populace from erupting into full-blown panic. Grimsby had barely believed it himself, after all, when that morning Eric had informed him he intended to wed the dark-haired girl who had appeared out of the blue, and that the wedding had to take place that very afternoon before sunset. It had taken all of Grimsby's considerable skill at carrying out royal commands to assemble a wedding party, the minister, the wedding ship, the food, and so forth in a matter of mere hours. Had he not been so busy, Grimsby conceded to himself, he would have pressed the prince more fervently as to precisely why the wedding had to be held that very day—before sunset. Why Eric suddenly seemed so distant, so not himself. And why the bride was this total stranger and not . . .

"Yes, she is," Grimsby responded. "You . . . ran her through quite cleanly after she . . ." Grimsby wiped his brow with his handkerchief, scarcely believing the words pouring forth from his own lips. "After she turned herself into that . . . that thing and tried to take hold of—"

"Stop."

To Grimsby's surprise, Eric rose from his chair, slowly turning himself around to look Grimsby in the face. The older man inhaled sharply in spite of himself at the sight of the young prince's face. Gone was the youthful vigor, the swagger of a young man in his prime; it had been replaced with the expression of a man far older than his years, worn down by time, exhaustion, incalculable stress. In his left hand, the prince held a nearly empty bottle of scotch. In his right, he clutched the ceremonial sword he had worn at his side during the wedding ceremony, the blade no longer shiny and clean as it had been mere hours before, but now stained with blood darker than any Grimsby had ever seen.

"Don't say her name." Eric's voice was barely audible. The sword trembled as the prince's hands shook uncontrollably. "I mean it, Grim. Just . . . Just drop it."

Grimsby regarded the prince with utter astonishment. "Why, Eric, how can you even say such a thing? After all, only yesterday, I thought for certain it would have been Ariel you were going to marry and not—"

With a roar of anger, Eric hurled the blade across the study. The sword lodged itself within the wall on the far side of the room, buried nearly two inches deep into the heavy wood. Exhausted, the prince collapsed into his chair, his eyes dull, lifeless. "She lied to me, Grim," he whispered, taking a long swig directly from the bottle. "She lied to me. About who she was. About . . . About everything!"

Grimsby swallowed. "In fairness, Eric," he said, "she didn't really 'lie' so much as not tell the truth. Which wasn't really her fault, considering she couldn't speak until—"

"You know what I meant!"

Eric glared at Grimsby, his brow furrowed, his eyes blazing with self-righteous anger. "How can you defend her, Grim? Now that you know what she really is?" He swallowed. "It doesn't matter anyway," he muttered, his voice tinged with bitterness. "It's not like I'm ever going to see her again. She's long gone into the ocean now by this point, where she . . ." He paused. "Where she belongs . . ."

Grimsby stood silently for several moments. Without a word, he walked behind the desk, his gaze fixated upon the young man. Before Eric could react, Grimsby swatted the prince upside the back of the head. "Are you finished now, Eric?"

"Ow!"

Eric took hold of his head. The blow hadn't really hurt him, of course; on the contrary, it was the unexpected element of the sudden attack that seemed to hurt more than anything. For a brief moment, the prince felt as if he were a child again, having been caught swiping an extra dessert from the kitchen and now facing a swat on the head as punishment for his actions.

"Believe it or not, Eric," Grimsby said, "there are people in this palace who actually want to see you happy, and who do everything they can to keep you from falling victim to your own 'woe is me' attitude."

"I'm not trying to act like this!" Eric threw up his hands in frustration. "I just . . ." His voice was soft, barely audible. "She's a . . . And I'm . . . Oh, God, this seems like something out of a bad dream!"

Grimsby nodded understandingly. He clasped his hand on the prince's shoulder. "Do you know what the last thing your father said to me before he died was, Eric?"

The prince did not react.

Grimsby continued. "Your father, God rest his soul, made me swear to him before he passed that I would do everything in my power to see to it that his son was—"

"A worthy successor," Eric finished. He sighed heavily. "Yes, Grim, you've told me this I don't know how many times over the years." He laughed joylessly. "Especially whenever you think I'm about to do something you think is reckless or irresponsible." He laughed joylessly. "Which is pretty much every day, now that you mention it—"

"I'm not finished, Eric!"

Grimsby's countenance was deadly serious, his lined face stern. "I have never told you what else he said."

Eric leaned forward, confused. "I . . . don't understand."

The manservant's lip turned upward ever-so-slightly. "He made me swear that I would do everything in my power to ensure that you were happy. More than his kingdom, more than his legacy, your father's first concern was for your own well-being."

Eric sat in stunned silence, uncertain of how to react to this revelation. Grimsby squeezed the prince's shoulder reassuringly. "I am an old man myself, Eric, and so I have to know for the sake of my own conscience. For the sake of knowing I did not fail your father. Does . . . Does she make you happy?"

The prince closed his eyes. Memories of the previous day swirled through his mind as he recalled the sense of wonder she had displayed during their excursion in the village, how at ease he had felt around her, how perfect it had felt to hold her close as they danced, how her eyes, her smile seemed to transport him to another world where it was only the two of them.

Grimsby nodded. "Of course she does. I saw it yesterday, just as I see it in you now, no matter how much you try to pretend otherwise."

"I miss her, Grim," Eric whispered. He opened his eyes, his gaze unfocused, devoid of any semblance of joy. "It's only been a few hours, and yet I . . ." He slammed his fist onto the desk, welcoming the sudden onslaught of pain. "I don't know how I can live without her. Even if she's a . . ." He shook his head. "But it doesn't matter, does it? She's gone."

Grimsby was silent for several long moments. "My boy," he said at long last. "Whatever gave you the impression she was gone . . .?"

She was singing. Impossible as it had been mere moments earlier, a consequence of the barter she had made with the witch of the sea—her voice, her beautiful voice, in exchange for human legs, and everything that came with them—she . . . she was singing again!

Her heart beat faster than it ever had before as she curled her toes against the rough, aged wood of the wedding ship. Not ten paces before her, her beloved shook his head, rubbing his eyes as if he had just awoken from some deep slumber. His eyes widened as he realized her voice—the voice—was now emanating not from the furious-looking young woman at his side, but rather from the girl with hair of purest flame before him. "Ariel?" he whispered, hardly daring to believe.

At the sound of her name coming forth from his lips, she smiled. "E– . . . E– . . . Eric!"

He was standing before her before she finished saying his name. Taking hold of her hands, he stared into her eyes of purest blue, the tip of one of his fingers delicately caressing her throat. "Ariel, you . . . you can talk!"

Her smile grew wider. "I . . . I know!"

So lost was she in the warm sensation of his fingers upon her hands and throat, so thoroughly enraptured was she that she failed to notice the sun had almost fully disappeared below the western horizon. She thought she heard Eric say something as he pulled her close, but her eyes were closed, her lips almost quivering in anticipation for his kiss, the kiss that would make her human forever, when—

"ERIC! NO!"

Ariel's eyes snapped open at the sound, her gaze fixated upon the young woman who mere moments ago was to be Eric's bride. Involuntarily, Eric turned to face her. Her eyes were no longer warm and inviting, her features soft, feminine. Rather, it was as if rage of immense proportions was emanating from the young woman. Her face was contorted in an expression of both anger and panic, the muscles of her neck bulging and tensing, her stare cold, filled with indescribable malice. "You . . ." the young woman gasped, pointing triumphantly at Ariel. "You . . . you are mine, véldenmaína!"

The last rays of the setting sun vanished beneath the waters just as the words evaporated from Vanessa's lips. The world seemed to explode into crimson and purple spots before Ariel's eyes as a torrent of agony tore through her. From what seemed to be hundreds of miles away she was certain she heard someone screaming, the sound growing in intensity with every passing second. Only when she felt the wind escape from her lungs as she collapsed upon the deck of the ship did, only when she realized her throat was raw did she understand it was her own voice she had been hearing.

"Ariel!"

She inhaled sharply as she felt a hand—Eric's hand—cup her chin. Forcing her eyes open, she tried to stand, but something was wrong with her legs—they wouldn't respond to her commands, and as the world still spun around her she saw Eric frown as he stared at the hem of her dress, his face turning nearly as white as the woolen uniform jacket he was wearing.

"Eric? Eric, what's wrong?!"

She tried to stand again, fear washing over her as her legs again refused to obey her, the pain finally subsiding as she managed to pull herself into a seated position, her back resting against the railing behind her. Her worry intensified as she saw Eric slowly back away, his face contorted with disbelief mingled with betrayal, the guests behind him doing likewise. "Eric, help me!" she whispered, reaching out her hand, the fog of agony dissipating from her mind as she tried to understand just what was happening. Her eyes glanced downward involuntarily toward her legs as she tried one last time to stand when—

"NO!"

She felt the word leave her lips of its own accord, not wanting to believe what she was witnessing. The smooth, pale skin resting upon two legs was now gone, replaced by a singular fluke of deepest emerald. What little daylight remained glistened and sparkled upon the scales of her limb, mocking her, reminding her of how the humanity she had worked so hard to gain had now been stolen from her.

Tears filled her eyes as she looked upwards once more. Eric refused to meet her gaze, his gloved hands tightly clenched. "I'm sorry!" she murmured, her hair whipping about her face as the wind intensified, the sheer magnitude of her deception toward her beloved crashing down upon her. "I . . . I never meant to—"

Her words disappeared into the cacophony of screams echoing about the deck from the now terrified throng of spectators. The auburn-haired young woman was gone now, replaced instead by the hulking, tentacled form of the sea witch. The witch moved surprisingly fast for a creature of her size; in a matter of moments, cackling all the while, she crossed the deck toward the sea maiden, taking tight hold of the young woman's dress. "You really thought you could outwit me, ángelfiëla?" the witch sneered.

"Let go!" Ariel shouted, struggling with all her might to escape her opponent's near-death grip on her waist. Her fin thrashing about wildly as panic began to overtake her. "Eric! ERIC!"

The witch laughed once more. "Oh, princey-wincey can't help you now, I'm afraid," she whispered, her lips mere inches from Ariel's ear. "You belong to me! And I have such big plans for you!"

The witch pulled her massive form onto the railing, Ariel pressed tightly against her. "Say 'goodbye' to your sweetheart, ángel—"

The witch's voice suddenly stopped, her expression of triumph quickly changing to one of utter astonishment. Her eyes moved downward, coming to rest upon the steel blade protruding from her breast, the tip of the weapon dark and black with blood—her blood. She opened her mouth to speak, but all that left her throat was a horrid gurgling sound. As Ariel watched in disbelief, barely comprehending, the blade moved backwards, passing through the sea witch's flesh into the hand of—

The witch's body fell backwards upon the deck, still, unmoving. The sea maiden groaned in pain as she landed upon the rough wood. The screams that had filled the air mere seconds earlier were now silenced, the whistling of the wind the only sound to be heard. Opening her eyes, she saw Eric standing over her, his hand holding the ceremonial blade he had been wearing for the marriage ceremony, the weapon now coated from tip to hilt in the sea witch's blood. "Eric!" she cried out hopefully. "Please . . . Let me explain!"

The prince looked at her for a moment, frozen, conflicting desires rushing through his mind. Then, without a word, he turned on his heel, disappearing into the crowd of stunned onlookers.

Her heart shattered within her breast. "Eric! Eric, please!"

She suddenly realized how thirsty she was, how dry her fin was. The crowd began to surround her, voices filling the air, hands stretching out to touch what to them was a creature of legend suddenly present in the flesh.

"Incredible!"

"Impossible!"

"A sea maiden!"

"No, a mermaid!"

"This can't be real! This is some sort of trick!"

"It can't be a trick! Look at that tail! There's no way there are legs under that!"

"Please!" she whimpered, covering her face with her hands, terror filling her. He was right, she thought, her father's warnings to her about humans over the years now ringing in her ears. He was right all along! They're going to kill me!"Just go away! Please! Leave me alone!"

The sound of tearing fabric filled the air as her dress was reduced to shreds by the onslaught of hands grasping at her trembling form. She tried in vain to preserve some semblance of modesty by moving her long hair over her now exposed breasts, but she was so tired, so thirsty, so sore, and the crowd continued to swarm about, and—

"Back. Away. NOW!"

As blackness began to overtake her, she felt a pair of arms carefully wrap around her waist and tail, lifting her from the deck. "Don't worry, my dear. Everything will be all right."

Her eyes fluttered open long enough to recognize that Grimsby was holding her tightly. She could see his lips move, shouting orders to the crew, felt him carrying her across the deck, down the stairs, into the cabin below. Something wooden was pressed to her lips—in the recesses of her mind, she vaguely remembered Carlotta calling it a "spoon"—offering her water. She guzzled the liquid eagerly, sighing involuntarily as it rolled down her chin. Her head came to rest upon something soft, while someone proceeded to gently pour water across her fluke. She tried to thank whoever it was, but the darkness finally won its battle against her addled mind, and she knew no more . . .

"You've been drinking, haven't you?"

Eric blushed incriminatingly as Carlotta scolded him, the short, squat woman pressing her finger against his chest. "Is it that obvious?"

"Ha!" Carlotta scoffed, shaking her head disapprovingly. "I could smell the liquor on your breath before you were within fifty paces of here!" She folded her arms. "What would your mother say if she saw you right now, Eric?"

The prince had no answer. The woman turned to the tea kettle upon the tray resting on the table, pouring a cup of steaming liquid. "I'm not letting you see her until you've sobered yourself up a bit."

"Thank you," Eric said, sheepishly taking the cup as Carlotta handed it to him. He downed the contents in a single gulp. The pungency of the extra-strong tea caused him to cough several times, the alcohol-induced fog rattling his mind beginning to lift. "How . . . How is she?"

"How do you think she is?" Carlotta took the cup from Eric's grasp, filling it once more. "The poor thing is terrified! She's hardly said a single word the past two hours. Not that I blame her one bit, mind you." She handed the cup back to Eric. "Considering what I've heard about your behavior aboard the ship earlier."

As Eric finished his tea, Carlotta swatted him upside the head. "Ow! Geez! Not you too!"

"Your father would have done far worse were he here now," Carlotta scolded. She snatched the cup from Eric's hand. "What were you thinking, leaving her to be manhandled by God knows who while you sulked in your private cabin?! Thank the Lord Grimsby was able to get her to safety, or it would be the switch for you, boy! And don't think for a moment I wouldn't do it, by the way, just because you're a man now. I've swatted your behind plenty of times over the years, and I'd have no problem doing it again—"

"All right! All right!" Eric sighed, exasperated. "You got me! I screwed up! A lot! I just . . ." He sank into the nearby chair. "I just . . . I was overwhelmed. I mean, can you blame me, Carlotta? I don't even remember how I got onto that wedding ship! Everything from my walk at the beach last night until I suddenly . . . I don't know, woke up, I guess, on the ship is one giant blur!"

Carlotta nodded silently. "I knew it," she whispered. "That devil woman, Vanessa or whatever her name was. She bewitched you! I could see it in your eyes this morning. You weren't yourself!" Her fingers brushed against the beads resting within the pocket of her apron. "Oh, Eric, I'm sorry," she said, brushing the young man's raven hair from his eyes. "I should have stopped you! I should have—"

"It's not your fault," Eric said. He glanced down at his shirt, dark black stains from the sea witch's blood marring the fabric. "Whoever . . . Whatever Vanessa was . . . She's dead now."

Carlotta inhaled sharply. Grimsby had neglected to mention that detail when he had brought the unconscious sea maiden to her several hours earlier. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!" she murmured, crossing herself. "Did . . . Did you . . .?"

Her heart sank as the prince nodded in silent assent to her unspoken question. She felt a rush of guilt wash over her for her scolding earlier. "Eric, I'm—"

"It's all right."

Eric rose, taking the older woman into his embrace. "I'm fine, Carlotta," he said. "Really, I am."

Carlotta nodded, the noxious scent of the sea witch's blood filling her nostrils. "Nothing with a soul bleeds like this, Eric. You didn't kill a child of God. You killed a monster! Don't . . . Don't feel guilty over this!"

The prince said nothing. Releasing his hold on the older woman, he poured himself another cup of tea, downing the liquid almost as quickly as he had poured it. "Can you take me to her now, Carlotta? Please?"

The servant woman nodded assent. "This way," she said softly, taking Eric's hand. She led him upstairs from the kitchen, toward the bedroom the girl—No, not a girl after all—had slept in the past two evenings ever since the prince had first discovered her on the beach.

Eric frowned. "In . . . She's in here?"

"I thought a familiar space would do the poor dear good," Carlotta said. She reached into her apron, withdrawing a large skeleton key. "Here," she said, handing the key to Eric. "No one but Grimsby and I know she's here. For all the people who saw . . . how she looks now know, she's disappeared back into the sea."

The prince ran a hand through his hair. "I have no idea how I'm going to explain this to the kingdom. I'm still not convinced this is actually real myself."

"Now is not the time to worry about that," Carlotta said, patting his cheek. "The only words you need to worry about right now are what you are going to say to her."

"That's what concerns me," Eric muttered.

Carlotta gently poked the prince in the chest, her finger resting just above his heart. "Speak from here, Eric. Whatever happens . . . be honest with her." She withdrew the beads from her apron, her lips reverently kissing the crucifix attached to them. "I'll be praying for you. For the both of you."

"Thanks," Eric said, flashing the servant woman who had become a second mother to him over the years the most confident smile he could muster. Inhaling slowly, he inserted the key into the lock, turning it. The door swung open slightly as a loud click echoed about the empty corridor. The prince stepped forward, his vision momentarily hazy as his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room. Moonlight streamed through the windows, pale light coming to rest upon a large wash basin in the center of the bedroom. The prince walked slowly, carefully, each step filled with trepidation until he stood before the water-filled tub.

"Ariel?"

His voice was little more than a whisper. A small circle of flickering candles surrounded the wash basin, orange light dancing about, reflecting from the surface of the water within the tub. The water was still, unmoving, and for a moment Eric thought Grimsby and Carlotta were playing a cruel joke upon him when, without warning, the surface rippled. With a soft splash, she appeared. Her long hair of purest flame clung to her pale skin. For the briefest of moments, her eyes made contact with his, quickly moving downward as she began to sink slowly beneath the surface once more.

"Ariel, wait! Please!"

He grabbed hold of her wrist, preventing her from disappearing back into the shallow waters of the tub. Dejectedly, she looked at him once more, her expression entirely devoid of happiness. After several moments of silence, she spoke. "Why . . . Why are you here?"

Eric looked at her, uncertain of how to answer her question. "I . . . I don't . . . I mean . . ." His voice trailed off as a thought occurred to him. "Ariel, you . . . you're talking to me!"

"I know," she responded, still refusing to meet his gaze. "I got my voice back on the ship earlier. Don't . . . Don't you remember?"

He winced. "I . . . Yes. Yes, I remember now." He felt his cheeks burn as shame washed over him. "Ariel, I . . . How I acted on the wedding ship after you . . . I mean, it . . . it was—"

"It's all right."

She still refused to look at him, her gaze focused on the window, toward the sea beyond, as if the waters of the ocean were silently calling to her, begging her to come home. "You saved me from the sea witch. You don't owe me an apology. Not after I lied to you about what I am. I see that now."

Eric cupped her chin, gently forcing her to turn toward him. "You saved me the other day, didn't you? All the time, it was you. And I was too blind to see it . . ."

Ariel laughed mirthlessly. "We see only what we want to see, don't we?" She sighed heavily. "I wanted so badly to be with you, I never stopped to think about whether you would actually want me if you knew the truth. If you had kissed me before the sunset, if you had made me human forever, I was going to keep lying to you, never telling you the truth about who I am. But you . . . You deserve so much more." She shook her head. "Veldre was right. I am only a child, after all."

Eric frowned. "Veldre?"

She shrugged. "My . . . My father. He tried to tell me to remember my place. That a human and a véldenmaína can never be together." She closed her eyes, fighting back tears. "I wanted so badly to prove him wrong! But now . . ." She pulled her wrist from Eric's grasp. "Now, I see he was right. I don't blame you for how you acted when you discovered what I really am. I deserve it."

Eric shook his head. "You don't deserve that, Ariel. Not after you spent the past three days making me happier than I've ever been in my life."

"You're just saying that . . ."

"No, I'm not," Eric insisted. "I mean it! I can't stand to be away from you, Ariel. Earlier today, when I thought you were long gone into the sea, I was miserable! Ask Grim; he'll tell you. I was an absolute mess!" He smiled as he gently wrapped his fingers around hers. "I've been thinking quite a bit since Grim and Carlotta knocked some sense into me—literally." He rubbed the back of his head with his free hand. "I can't say I understand everything that's happened over the past few days. Hell, as far as I can tell, all sorts of things I thought were impossible have proven to be possible after all!" He paused, moving a long strand of hair from the sea maiden's face, smiling slightly as she allowed him to caress her cheek, to tuck the hair behind her ear. "But I'm hoping that you'll . . . that you'll tell me. That you'll teach me about your people, your culture, your customs." He smiled, memories of the previous day washing over him once more. "Just like I taught you about my culture yesterday."

She turned away, her gaze falling on the window once more. "What's the point? Why should I? My dream of being human . . . of being with you is over now." She glanced downward toward the water's surface. "You should just release me back into the sea this instant. My people will never bother your kingdom again, I promise. It's . . . It's better this . . ."

Her words disappeared into her throat as her lip began to tremble. Her hands covered her face as, in spite of her best efforts, she sobbed uncontrollably. "Don't!" she choked out as Eric attempted to wrap his arms around her shoulders. "Please. Don't make this harder than it needs to be."

"Maybe I haven't been clear," Eric said. He took hold of Ariel's hands, pulling them from her face until they rested in the palms of his own hands. "If you think I'm about to let the woman I love disappear from my life just like that, you don't know me as well as you think."

Ariel's tears disappeared, an expression of utter confusion etched into her countenance. "I . . . I don't think I understood what you just said. Maybe you are still confused from what happened earlier today." Her voice was barely audible now, her eyes wide with both hope and fear. "I thought you said . . . I thought you said you love me. But . . . But you can't! Not when . . ."

With a loud splash, the véldenmaína withdrew her long fluke from beneath the waters of the basin. Her fin dangled over the edge of the tub, the delicate flesh coming to rest upon the bedroom floor, gently moving back and forth seemingly of its own accord. "Doesn't this disgust you, Eric?" Ariel whispered. "How . . . How can you love this?"

The prince did not speak; rather, he slowly brought his fingers to rest upon the sea maiden's fin. It was, to his surprise, neither cold nor clammy. Instead, it was warm to the touch, its gentle movements tickling the flesh of his palm. Wordlessly, he ran his hand up Ariel's tail, coming to rest where her knees would have been were she still human. Something Carlotta had said earlier came to his mind: You didn't kill a child of God, Eric! You killed a monster . . .

"Soul . . ."

Ariel blinked, looking at the prince in confusion. "I . . . What did you say?"

Eric shook his head, his attention returning to the present. "Sorry. I just . . ." He leaned forward, his face mere inches from the sea maiden's own. "I'm such an idiot. I spent so much time obsessing over something as trivial as a voice, that I couldn't see what was right before me."

Ariel frowned, her stomach churning with concern. "You're . . . You're not well, Eric. Something's wrong. You're not making sense at all. Please, just take me home—"

"You asked me how I could possibly love you," Eric interrupted, his hands resting on Ariel's cheeks. "I didn't understand at first, but now . . . Now, I know. I don't love what you look like, whether you're a human, or a sea maiden, or whatever! That isn't who you are. What you are is your spirit! The woman who makes me laugh, who has such zeal and excitement for life, who makes me feel happier than I ever have in my life just be being with you!" He looked into her eyes. "I love you, Ariel. I always will."

"I . . . I . . ."

Before she could respond, the prince pressed his lips to hers. The daughter of the sea closed her eyes, her heart racing with exhilaration as she savored the taste of his lips, the scent of his hair, the softness of his touch against her cheek. She leaned forward, returning the kiss, allowing her hair to brush against his face, her fin gently caressing his leg.

At long last, Eric pulled away, his cheeks turning red. "I . . . I'm sorry, Ariel. That . . . I shouldn't have . . . I mean, I should have asked you first—"

His words disappeared as the sea maiden took hold of his shirt, pulling him back to her, her lips pressing against his own. He held her tightly this time, arms wrapped around her back, wanting nothing more than to hold her forever, to protect her, to keep her safe from sea witches and any other threats that might do her harm. Something salty and wet fell upon his lips; opening his eyes, Eric realized she was crying again.

"Ariel?" he asked, pulling away, concerned. "Are . . . Are you all right?"

"Yes," she said, hardly daring to breathe lest this nightmare that had suddenly become a dream come crashing down around her. "I . . . I just . . . I've dreamed about what it would feel like to kiss you for the past three days, Eric! And now that I have, I . . ." She paused, looking at him hopefully. "Could we do this just one more time? Please? To prove this isn't a dream?"

The prince smiled, wasting no time in honoring her request. After several long moments holding one another, they finally pulled apart once more.

"You . . . You really do love me!" Ariel murmured.

Eric smiled. "Isn't it obvious by now?"

The véldenmaína of the sea laughed, really laughed, the sound like music as it caressed Eric's ears. "Yes," she said, holding his hand tightly. A look of worry suddenly fell upon her face, clearly evident even in the dim light of the bedroom. "Ohmygosh!" she exclaimed. "I . . . I just realized I . . . I haven't told you that I—"

"You don't have to," Eric said, pressing a finger to her lips. "It's fine."

"But I want to . . . luvánathem!"

The prince cocked his head. "'Luvánathem?' What . . . What does that mean?"

She smiled. "In the old language of my people, it means 'most beloved one.'" Her smile vanished, replaced with concern. "Did I offend you, Eric?"

"Not at all," he said. "'Luvánathem' . . . I . . . I like it!"

The two sat in silence for several long minutes, merely enjoying the quiet, the presence of each other's company. Finally, Eric broke the silence. "Well, I . . . I'd better get to bed. It's late. Carlotta's going to be after me, making sure I'm behaving myself around you. Making sure I'm not taking advantage of you—"

"Goodness no!" Ariel exclaimed in mock indignation. "We couldn't have that, could we? I am a princess, after all! I have my honor to think of!"

Eric rose, bowing before her with faux seriousness. "Of course, my lady." He stood tall, looking down upon the wash basin, the melancholy he had felt all evening now evaporated entirely. "I . . . I don't know how we'll make this work, Ariel," he said, slowly walking backwards to the bedroom door. "But I meant what I said. I don't care what you are, or what I am, or what anyone else says. All I know is I love you, and I'm never letting you get away from me again."

"Eric?"

Her voice was quiet, hesitant. "I . . . I don't really want to be alone tonight. Not like this. Please, can you stay with me? I don't want to think about what we will do tomorrow, or how we'll explain this to people. I just . . . I just want you here." She paused. "Please?"

He was beside the basin in an instant. "Of course."

Carefully, he climbed into the tub, taking care not to step on her emerald limb. He sighed as he eased himself into the water beside her, pleasantly surprised at just how warm the water was. He smiled as she rested her head upon his shoulder, her right hand crossing his chest, holding him close.

"Thank you," she whispered. "For saving me. For everything."

He brushed her hair with his free hand. "No. Thank you, Ariel."

A steady series of soft whistling sounds was her only response. Glancing down, Eric chuckled to himself as she saw that her eyes were closed, her breathing rhythmic, steady, indicative that the exhausted sea maiden had succumbed and welcomed the bliss of sleep. Her ruby lips were drawn upwards in a smile of pure happiness, an occasional laugh emanating from her throat as she dreamed.

You're right, Ariel, Eric thought to himself, his own eyes growing heavy. I don't know what we're going to do tomorrow. Or the day after. All I know is that, right now, being with you is the most perfect, impossibly possible thing in the world . . .

AN: Sometimes, I find it takes months for an idea to fully gestate. In the case of this piece, the basic premise came to my mind in the summer of 2019. It has taken me this long to fully flesh it out, to explore the characters, and to refine the thematic material. Hopefully, it was worth the read. Thank you to all who have read my various fanfics over the years.