The streets of Atlantica were eerily quiet, the residents of the golden city having retreated to their homes following the return of the King and his daughters. Occasionally, a family would exit their home and pay a brief visit to the florist, before taking their purchase and laying it before the gates of the royal residence; gates which were, for the first time in as long as anyone could remember, closed. Already what must have been over five hundred bouquets lay beneath those gates, swaying gently in the current. Many citizens hesitated, waited with their head bowed as they sent silent prayers to the seven daughters of the Sea King, who would live the rest of their lives without the kind influence of their mother, and to the King Triton himself, who had loved Athena more than anyone. Perhaps unsurprisingly, very few spared a thought for young Eric, the boy whose arrival had caused so much controversy. Perhaps they saw little point in praying, knowing already that nothing could save him from the wrath of their King. Perhaps they simply didn't care.

However, there remained those few who did, high up in a tower of the great palace, hidden from view, the seven daughters of King Triton and Queen Athena. The girls sat wrapped up in each other's arms and three maids: Zohra, who had been instructed by the King to watch over them and help them through their grieving, and the two she had selected to help her, Medina and Cedar.

Zohra, the eldest of the three, and having served over fifty years in the royal household, sat before Attina and Alana, their small and trembling hands in hers as she willed them to stay strong for the sakes of their father and younger sisters. She realised though what a massive ask that was as Attina broke down in tears, the nine year old suddenly finding herself the closest thing to a Queen their Kingdom had.

Triton's eldest daughter was terrified, confused, hurt beyond words… and angry. Angry at her mother for telling her that her father was wrong about humans, that they weren't as horrible as he said they were. Angry at her father for not doing more to prevent her mother from being taken. Angry at herself for being angry. She knew it was irrational anger, her fear and sadness manifesting into some other emotion. Why had her mother lied to her? Had she not known? Attina was sure that her mother had known everything, being the person that she went to most often when she was puzzled or uncertain.

'Tina?'

Hearing her sister's voice, the mermaid Princess turned herself, throwing her arms around Alana's shoulders and weeping, her cries merging with those of her younger sisters.

Alana, for her part, simply didn't know how to respond. Her younger sisters had always sought Attina for comfort when their mother had been unavailable, and so she found herself without the subject understanding required to help Attina at all. How could she ease her sisters pain when she herself was hurting so?

She turned her wide, frightened eyes to Zohra, who looked down upon the two girls with pity and taking each of their hands in hers.

'Be strong, things will get better soon,' she reassured them, although understanding that it would take a long time for all of them to get through this, some longer than others. She glanced over at Medina, her apprentice, who sat upon swam back and forth in a gentle almost hypnotic rhythm, Adella on the vey brink of slumber in her arms, though the cries of her sisters likely made it difficult for her to allow sleep to claim her completely. Perhaps it was for the best, for there would surely be nightmares awaiting the Princesses the moment they found themselves spent enough to rest.

Arista, though still only young herself, lay beside four-year-old Andrina, her pale arms wrapper around her younger sister as she sobbed into her pillow. She herself found that she had no more tears to give, and so found herself merely whimpering, curling herself into a ball beside Andrina. She had always depended on her mother for so much, not be as brave as her sisters when it came to exploring. She had stuck close to her mother's side her entire life, and now, with her gone, the fourth daughter of Triton felt so hopelessly lost, so unsure of herself and of the future. Academically she struggled enormously, something that was apparent even despite her six short years. Her father had called upon the very best tutors to help her, but the skill of reading and simple arithmetic hadn't been something that they were able to help with, it just didn't make any sense to her.

Arista recalled the nights she had spent crying, as younger Adella had swiftly surpassed her in their lessons. Her mother had approached her one morning, and the two of them had spent hours devising a teaching method that she could follow and that she understood; her mother had then insisted upon delivering those lessons to Arista herself. Slowly but surely she was catching up to her sisters, but now with her mother gone she would surely fall behind again.

Laminating on all that she would miss about her mother, Arista's tears returned, and she retreated into herself once more.

Zohra watched the scene unfold with a heavy heart, before her gaze was drawn to the window where Cedar, the youngest of the three maids, sat there upon the sill, little Ariel, who bore an uncanny likeness to her mother and would no doubt grow to be equally as beautiful, wrapped protectively in her arms.

If it were possible to read her thoughts one would likely assume that she was older than three, for they were conflicted; half her mind upon her mother, and half upon Eric. She felt a deep sadness that neither were there with her, and some part of her knew that neither would be again. Perhaps, she thought, perhaps she would see them again. Perhaps her mother would be returned by those who had taken her, maybe they just wanted to be her friend; after all, who wouldn't? Perhaps her father hadn't punished Eric so severely as she feared he had, perhaps he had only wished to talk to him, to comfort him. It was these thoughts of hope that betrayed her youth, her inexperience.

But, surprisingly it wasn't the Princess who attracted Zohra's thoughts, it was Cedar herself, or rather her name. How strange it was that she should be named after something found only on land. What had possessed her parents to make that decision?

The door burst upon suddenly, the purple seaweed the hung at the entrance to the girls bedroom torn away to reveal a furious looking King Triton, flanked by four guards, all of whom swam across the room with surprising speed and agility, taking an obviously painfully firm hold of Cedar and placing Ariel upon the bed to their right.

'Stay away from my daughters!' boomed the sea King, causing many of the girls to flinch or turn away.

After struggling at first, Cedar realised that even one of the guards would have been far stronger than she, and that she had no chance against the four that now held her. She ceased fighting them, simply allowing herself to be dragged from the room, but not before turning her head to the King.

'I would never hurt them,' she said, mustering all the courage she could to ensure that her voice didn't betray the fear that had rooted itself in her heart.

Whatever she had been hoping to achieve with that statement came to no avail, for she was forcibly removed from the room, long brown hair drifting almost hauntingly behind her, and King Triton's eyes holding such anger that neither maid nor Princess could meet them.

'A poor choice on your part Zohra,' he spat, before at last leaving the room, his daughters staring after him with a mixture of terror and longing in their sad eyes.

Zohra could comprehend nothing but shock, both at what had just happened at the King's final words. A poor choice… was he referring to Cedar? Zohra had chosen Cedar to help comfort the girls because she knew Cedar to be incredibly kind and caring by nature; how could that possibly constitute a poor choice?

The older maid thought back to Cedar's arrival at the palace as a maid a little over ten years ago, a guard had been instructed to escort her wherever she went, as though the King sought to protect her. Although the way he had looked at her suggested that he didn't care at all for her safety, he had looked about ready to strike her down at any given moment. She had thought it strange at the time, but the guard had disappeared after a year or two, and the King seemed to pay no attention to Cedar whatsoever.

Little Ariel's spluttered cry broke through the stunned silence, Medina taking it upon herself to console her, Adella still in one arm.

'There, there,' she cooed, "don't you worry, it…'

Zohra didn't hear what remained of Medina's sentence, for her attention was drawn to the bed behind her, in which Aquata had, until now, been sleeping. Such was not the case in this instant, and Zohra assumed that her father's outburst had been what had awoken her. Ironic, seeing as he had been the one to put her to sleep.

The seven-year-olds body felt heavy as she pushed herself into a sitting position, a side-effect of being engulfed by magic emitted by the most powerful item under the sea, perhaps the whole world, though she had no way to be sure. Rubbing at her eyes as scanning the room wearily, the young Princess tried her best to discern whether she had dreamt the day's events, hoping that she had but knowing with only one glance at her heartbroken sisters that that wasn't the case.

For some reason her hand went to her hair, brushing against the white pearls that held it in place; pearls that her mother had neatly arranged there just this morning. She recalled once that as she had been waiting for her mother to style her hair, she had called Eric over and placed those pearls atop his black waves of hair as though they were a crown. The action itself had caused him to giggle, and once he caught sight of himself in the mirror he hadn't wanted to take them off.

With a sad smile, Aquata looked towards Eric's bed and, not seeing him there, began an almost frantic search of the room, her eyes scanning every inch from the ceiling to the floor and back again.

'Eric!' she called, wondering perhaps if he were hiding.

Her sudden cry attracted the attention of all in the room. Some of her sisters, most noticeably Ariel and Alana, began looking round as she had done, Ariel wondering whether her older sister had called Eric's name having spotted him and Alana simply noticing for the first time that their brother was nowhere to be seen. He had come back with them, hadn't he? Or had he been taken too?

No, no she was certain that he had come back. But where was he now?

Alana looked back to Aquata, the sister closest in age to her, with both confusion and sadness in her eyes.

'Aquata.'

The name wasn't spoken harshly, but still held an element of firmness to it, giving Aquata little choice but to meet the gaze of she who had spoken it.

Zohra swam from Attina's side, coming to a halt before the Princess whom King Triton had warned her would ask after her foster-brother, and regarding her with steely eyes, repeating what the King had instructed of her over and over in her mind.

'Princess you are to forget about him, he betrayed you,' she said, before turning so that she might address all seven girls at once, "all of you. He is the very reason you find yourselves without a mother. He—'

'No!'

The room fell once again into a dumbfounded silence, all eyes being drawn to Aquata, whose tearful eyes deceived her, being a clear indication that she was not as confident as her outbreak had made her sound.

'It's not true,' she continued, her voice now much quieter, 'he didn't do anything wrong… he wouldn't… mummy promised.'

At the mention of their mother, most of the girls hung their heads, many in an attempt to hide their tears. In fact, it was only Attina who remained staring at Aquata, she and Ariel, the eldest of whom recalled the conversation she had had with her mother years ago, when she had been very frightened and unsure of herself. She had lied then, hadn't she? Lied about Eric, and about his growing desire to protect them should they but love and care for him.

Zohra watched as a deep concern masked Attina's face, and as Aquata, once so certain about Eric, began to doubt herself.

Had Ariel possessed the ability to accurately speak her mind she would have defended her sister, defended Eric, defended their mother, but given her age she found herself unable to form the words to express her opinion, thus, she remained silent, the memories she had of Eric and of her mother already beginning to fade.