It was dark in Nastasya's home, almost pitch black save for the two bioluminescent sea sponges at either end of the room, the suns light didn't travel far after two hundred metres, and even if it did, the towering kelp that surrounded the house would have blocked it out anyway. It was cold as well, not freezing, but the current carried with it a constant chill that engulfed the one-roomed house and often caused Nastasya to wonder whether there had been any point her putting up walls in the first place. In twenty five years they had not once served any other purpose than to block her from view, though given that she'd seen nobody but the King and Queen – and now Eric – in all her time living here, even that seemed pointless at times.

The mermaid sighed, resting her chin in her right hand, and glancing over at the five-year-old boy who tail seemed to almost match the colour of his hair at this depth. What was his story? She wondered, thinking back to what the King had told her. Prevent him from asking unnecessary questions is what he'd said, but Nastasya fumed that even if he did she wouldn't be able to answer them. Was she supposed to make something up, or remain silent?

She had, having trained for years as a nurse in Atlantica, tended to his injuries as best she could without knowing the full extent of them. His left wrist was broken, of that she could be certain, and the bruising to his chest suggested the same of several ribs. All in all he looked a mess, and Nastasya wondered for the millionth time what could have happened to him.

A small, strangled groan startled her to alertness, for it was the first sound Eric had made since his arrival. Nastasya sat upright in her chair, what she could only describe as fear gripping her heart in a tight iron-like cage. She had never been given the chance to raise a child before, and now, suddenly, she was expected to do just that, for a boy she knew next to nothing about. A little bit of her hated him, simply for being here, for ruining her isolation; and another part of her hated herself. This wasn't his fault… it couldn't be, and it was selfish and cruel of her to blame him for anything.

He groaned again, and this time he was able to force his eyes open, causing whatever hatred remained within Nastasya to melt away, for they shone even down here, the brightest blue she had seen in a long time.

But full of such pain.

Nastasya's eyes stung as she looked down at him, slowing growing in awareness, his features twisting into a grimace shortly before a spluttered cry was pushed past his lips, and that was all it took. Nastasya scooped him into her arms, wary of his injuries, and held him against her bosom, held him with such care that any passer-by would have assumed him to be her own flesh and blood without sparing the matter a second thought. And, if she closed her eyes, she could almost trick herself into assuming the same.

A sharp, stabbing pain ripped through Eric's chest the moment he regained consciousness, and his head pounded even more severely than it had the time his mother and father had taken him to the carnival. That being all he remembered of the event. He was vaguely aware of someone beside him, though lacked the energy to lift his head and find out who. Was it his mother?

Which one?

Something akin to fog on an early spring morning clouded his mind, and suddenly his memories of the carnival, of his mother… mothers… disappeared. Each face he tried to recall vanished, every place, every event, birthdays, Christmases, all gone, until he struggled even to remember what sight would greet him should he look in a mirror.

There was someone sat beside him. Who? He didn't know. His mind was blank, had he forgotten something?

He willed his eyes to open.

His chest hurt.

His head hurt; and suddenly he felt very small and very alone.

He began to sob, and suddenly a pair of warm arms engulfed him, setting his body afire as every bruise, every ache made itself known. He hadn't the strength to move, and so was unable to free himself. However, over time, as his throat grew sore from crying, the arms around him began to feel ever so welcoming, and the soft touches along is back and upper arms began to feel familiar. He lifted his eyes, his vision failing him for a brief but frightening moment, before a face became visible through the darkness. The first face he recalled seeing.

'Mummy?' Eric croaked, his voice never reaching above a whisper.

Nastasya was stunned, suddenly unable to move, or to speak, her fingers halting at the base of the boys neck.

Mummy?

She wasn't, not even close, in fact she was a complete stranger to the boy; he knew less about her than she did about him, and that seemed almost impossible.

But here, in this moment, he looked so lost, so fearful, that she was suddenly overcome with a consuming desire to be to this boy whatever he wanted her to. If a mother was what he needed, a mother she would be. After all, what other option did she have without being able to tell him the truth? And so, with a smile on her face and love in her heart, she held Eric closer and nodded.

'That's right my love, don't worry,' she reassured him, her brain working quickly to spin a believable story, 'you've just hit your head that's all, it'll be alright.'

For a moment she felt terrible, not only was she leading him to believe lies about her, she was leading him to believe lies about himself as well. Would he question them when he was older? Deep down Nastasya knew that he would, anyone would. One day he would find out about the golden city hidden from their view behind miles of tall kelp, he would question why they lived in such a remote location, how that had come to be. He would learn the workings of a nuclear family and question where his father was. Where was his father?

Nastasya sighed, glancing down to find that Eric's eyes had never once left hers, as though he were afraid that as soon as he couldn't see her she would disappear. She offered him what she hoped was a reassuring smile, pushing her fingers through his hair, desperately wishing that she didn't have to lie to him. He seemed such a sweet boy, yet Nastasya wondered whether someone who was brought up on lies could remain so. Surely not, what with him being uncertain even as to which world he belonged in…

Nastasya gasped, rising from where she sat, Eric still in her arms, and swimming quickly from her home, whereupon she tilted her head back, eyes alighting upon the red hue of…

Sunset.

Without a second thought, not that she knew exactly what to think about, she swam upwards towards the surface, something that she hadn't done in years, stopping only when she was close enough to be able to reach up and feel the wind upon her calloused fingertips.

Tomorrow at the same time she would realise all she had failed to take into consideration; what should she take with her? Food was something she would later regret neglecting. How far was it to shore? The thought that she would have to get Eric there had not yet crossed her mind, and not only get him there, but then find somewhere safe for him to take refuge until the sun rose once again, so many hours from now. Would he be cold, scared, and more importantly, what would she do to right those two things? What could she do? What if somebody were to find him – them! – what would become of them then?

Perhaps it was just as well that she didn't stop to ponder this, for if she had she may never have reached the surface in time, having left it almost too late as it was.

Without warning, an ear-piercing scream tore from the throat of the five-year-old, startling Nastasya, for she felt certain that it could be heard miles away in Atlantica and beyond.

Eric writhed in Nastasya's arms, the pain that now shot through his tail being far worse than any he had ever suffered. He recalled another pain, something similar… this was a thousand times greater. It felt as though somebody were dragging a white hot blade down the length of his tail, splitting him in two. His chest too, while not as painful, was causing him a great deal of discomfort, his lungs being squeezed of their contents.

If Nastasya had known just how blinding the pain was it would have come as no surprise to her when Eric fell limp in her arms, the subsequent convulsions that wracked his frail body propelling her above the waves.

She coughed, almost doubling over as she expelled the water from her lungs, before filling them once again, this time with air, so much lighter… just as she remembered it.

Eric heaved a shuddering breath from her arms, though seemed to remain unconscious, the only indication that he was in pain coming from the flickering of his eyes beneath his eyelids. His tail had been replaced by two legs, with dull blue pants in place of the shining cobalt scales. Outwardly, nothing else had changed.

The sky was a darkening pink, and to the east, about three miles away, lay the closest of human civilisation, a small but busy town, the palace of which sloped majestically downwards towards the beach and sea, becoming very much the focus of Nastasya's attentions.

What now?

She couldn't just leave Eric lying upon the sand overnight, nor could she stay there with him. She scanned the coastline, noting a collection of caves barely half a mile to the left of the palace. Would Eric be safe there? Would she? Having made up her mind that she ought to stay with him, at least until he was old enough to care for himself.

The swim to shore was a tiresome one, the quickly falling darkness set Nastasya off course a number of times, obscuring the view she had of her destination and hiding it from sight. She had to keep reminding herself to keep Eric's head above the waves, and the addition of his dead weight made swimming awkward.

It took her well over an hour to reach the mouth of the nearest cave, the moonlight being all there was to guide her. The waves rolled neatly into the cave, and onto the smooth sand that carpeted it. The rocks would become an issue in more tumultuous waters, but for now this would do nicely.

Nastasya half thought about starting a fire, given the ice-like impression that had set into Eric's bones. Humans were so fragile. She decided against it though, not wanting to give anyone reason to investigate their hiding place.

Eric awoke at around midnight, whimpering, shivering, hardly seeming to notice where he was or that were he to look down he would find two pant-clad legs. Nastasya had wrapped an old sail cloth around him in a sorry attempt to warm him up, yet the blue of Eric's lips and the chattering of his teeth was evidence enough that it had made very little difference.

'Oh, my love,' cooed Nastasya, drawing Eric into her and rubbing his arms vigorously.

Tomorrow she should bring a needle and thread, perhaps she could fashion a shirt from the sail cloth, perhaps when he was older she could send him into town with some money and he could buy something warmer, maybe some food as well. Was that too risky? Was it unfair to expect that of him? She decided that it was, and suddenly felt bad for even entertaining the thought. He was just a boy after all, lost, and scared, and confused. No, she would have to make do with what she had at home, and anything else she could find amongst the shipwrecks.

The transformation from human to merboy was, as Eric would discover early the next morning, not as painful as the reverse transformation, enough to reduce him to tears but not enough to render him unconscious. That would be the first time Eric was aware enough to realise that something had changed, that he was a boy of two half's, neither if which he knew anything about. He could swim just fine, or at least he would be able to once his injuries healed, and he could walk too, with only a slight limp. Nastasya found that strange, how had he learned to do that?

The question came only days later, when Eric realised that the same wasn't happening to his mother, that she wasn't gaining a human form at sunset, and it left Nastasya speechless, for she hadn't expected it the way it came.

'Why don't you change?'