Ariel's journey home was far less eventful, and she suspected her return to the palace to have gone unnoticed, for it was usually followed swiftly by subjection to her father's reprimand. This evening, as she slipped in through the bedroom window, there was nothing, and naturally she presumed that he simply hadn't yet been made aware of the fact that she was home.

In actuality, the sea King had indeed noticed her arrival and, seeing that his youngest daughter was again safe within the boundaries of the city, took to swimming slow, thoughtful circles around the perimeter of throne room.

He regarded himself as no fool, he knew that Ariel's excursions often took her to the shipwrecks; however, it was not her close proximity to the human vessels that tormented him—though he certainly frowned upon it—but rather the existence of a certain human-turn-merman who resided nearby.

Try as he might to forget the boy who had once slept within this very palace he found that he could not, torn as he was between satisfaction that Eric was no longer a threat to his daughter's and guilt that Athena's wishes had died with her; it was the latter of these two that he believed possessed no merit to plague him. His wife had always been kind, but he remained firm in the belief that her benevolence had been misplaced that day sixteen years ago, and she misguided in her insistence that the human child become a part of their family.

She had always been one who sought to help the less fortunate, but to put her own daughters at risk had, in Triton's eyes, been a step too far.

Why then, had he not disposed of the boy properly? Why had he allowed him to stay within such relatively close vicinity to Atlantica, when he possessed the power to have dismissed him to the world of men in perpetuity?

The truth was that he couldn't bring himself to. In his mind, so long as the boy remained in some way tied to the ocean, Athena's desires remained in place, and he free of wrongdoing; after all, he was being cared for, and that had been the sole reason as to why Athena had brought him down here in the first place.

Triton had seen the boy only in unwelcome dreams since that day thirteen years ago, and Nastasya only once, a meeting of his own orchestration, and one which found his thoughts now.

2 years prior:

Nastasya returned home assured in the knowledge that the night would be a mild one, and bewildered to find a palace guard, who couldn't have been much older than Eric, stationed outside her secluded abode.

'Can I help you?' she called, her heart palpitating suddenly within her breast.

The merman turned sharply towards her and demanded her name, to which she answered obediently.

'The King requests your presence,' he stated, 'if you would follow me?'

'On what business?' demanded Nastasya, perplexed as to why the King would contact her after so many years of silence.

'I've not been made aware,' was all she received in reply.

Wary though she was, and thinking it unfair that the King should send for her when he knew Eric to be elsewhere, she allowed the young guard to lead her through the dark kelp.

After hardly any time at all they came to something of a clearing, at the far end of which the sea King loomed, his hard features ever encumbering Nastasya with a feeling of being at fault. She stopped a short distance from him and lowered herself into a stiff curtsy.

'Your majesty,' she greeted.

The King seemed hardly to acknowledge this, and begun the line of enquiry that had brought him here.

'I trust that the boy remains unaware of his past life?' he prompted.

Nastasya was quite taken aback by this. 'His past life! How can he be otherwise when I possess no knowledge of it?' she retorted, a little surprised at herself for speaking in such a manner. She took a breath to compose herself. 'Your majesty, when you first brought Eric to me you told me nothing, what exactly did you expect me to tell him?'

'I told you nothing because that is precisely what I wished you to know, to have entrusted you with anything more would have weakened your resolve. Tell me, what is it that he believes?'

Nastasya observed that he was frustratingly indifferent to the position he had placed her in, and oddly insistent on Eric being oblivious to whatever had passed between them, if indeed anything had passed between them. She recounted the story she had spun for Eric: that she was his mother, that a head injury when he was five had caused him to lose him memory, that things had always been the way they were. The King listened intently to these fabrications, and only once Nastasya had finished did she begin her own enquiries.

'Your majesty, if I may, there's something that's bothered me these past ten years, something you said that didn't quite make sense.' The King made no interruption, and Nastasya took the liberty to continue. 'You said that he would become human at night, as though it hadn't been the case before.'

The King made a demand as to her point, and she answered thus. 'Was he once bound only to one world, and have you the power to make it so again?'

'You question my power!' Triton exclaimed, the trident glowing bright within his clenched fist.

'I question why you have so little pity for him!' snapped Nastasya. Very few people would have dared speak to the King with such unrestraint, but she felt it her duty as a mother—or as close to a mother as Eric had—to spare no effort in making her boy's life easier. 'He's only a boy, and however this came to be I'm certain he was undeserving of it.'

The King's countenance darkened. 'You forget your place,' he seethed, 9you, of all people, are in no position to question my integrity.'

Nastasya bowed her head and remained silent, suddenly submissive and regretful of the force with which she had spoken. Her intention wasn't to anger the King, that she knew could have disastrous consequences, and not only for herself.

Triton perceived that he had no further reason for being here, and turned away.

'You will not tell him of this meeting,' he ordered, 'and you will ensure that he remains secluded from Atlantica in both presence and knowledge.'

Nastasya stared after him, but was suddenly so overcome by long-repressed emotion that she couldn't help but call out. 'Your majesty, wait!'

He stopped, but did not turn to face her, and she strived to steady her nerves, though her voice trembled when she spoke.

'My daughter; how... how is she?'

A moments silence passed.

Then another.

Still the King gave no reply, and Nastasya's trepidation only grew as a result. Eventually Triton left the clearing without another word, and it came as such a blow to Nastasya that she sunk to the seabed and wept bitterly, her fragile heart aching anew.

The King, now out of sight, stalled, though she could not know of it, those despairing cries tugging at his rigid heartstrings. He had seven daughters of his own, and to be kept from them and from all knowledge of their well-being would indeed be unbearable. All that prevented him from returning and satisfying her desire for intelligence was that he had no insight to offer, for he had neither seen nor heard from her daughter in over a decade.

Triton continued to this day to think of all that had passed that evening, and looked back on it with a tumultuous mixture of astonishment and regret; astonishment that he had gone there at all, and regret—however much strived to suppress it—that he had left Nastasya with such uncertainty. The first was dwelt upon most often.

The day of Athena's death he had been so blinded with hatred for the boy that he had wasted no time in relinquishing his own responsibilities where he was concerned, and banishing him from sight with the knowledge that he possessed no memories to encourage him back. What had began as satisfaction though, had turned unexpectedly to a feelings of remorse. Initially he had attributed these feelings to the tragedy of losing his wife, but came to realise that they were accompanied also by memories of the boy, over which he had agonised at great length. The reason behind this he perceived, though maintaining that he was wholly dissatisfied with his conclusion, was that had Athena been still with them and the boy a part of their family, he may have eventually come to tolerate him, perhaps even to love him. Such a chance had been ripped away, first by the human's who had taken Athena, and then by no other than himself.

When Athena had first insisted upon the boy joining their family, his prejudice towards the land into which he had been born had prevented Triton from feeling anything but resentment. Over time however, in watching the boy engage with his daughters, the King had often found himself looking upon the scenes of their adventures and make-believe with a degree of fondness.

He had never had a son, and though blessed with seven daughters whom he loved dearly, Triton had felt keenly the loss when, after Ariel's birth—an experience which had taken a great toll on his beloved—the royal physician had warned against extending their family further on account of the Queen's health.

When the opportunity for a son therefore presented itself, it was a wonder that he could not immediately accept him as anything but an intruder. Had the boy been of his own people, Triton may have willingly accepted him; but humans were innately heartless, and he could not—would not—expose his daughters to such a danger if he could help it.

During his time with them the boy had delighted both his wife and daughters, and been kindhearted and agreeable to such an extend that the King's indifference towards him had slowly begun to recede, much to his own surprise, though he masked these alterations in his temperament, too proud to be proven wrong in his estimations.

This inner battle had continued until he had been reminded so suddenly of the humans brutality towards his people, and driven him to initiate without thought a number of irreversible arrangements.

Were Athena still alive she would undoubtedly despise him for what he had done, the assurances he had broken in his treatment of those whose futures he had thrown into uncertainty with disregard, and the hurt he had caused many of his daughters by acting with such rashness. Athena wasn't alive though, and that boys hesitancy had been the reason for it; this was the fact that Triton reminded himself of whenever feelings of guilt threatened his conscience.

His silent musings were interrupted then by the arrival of his eldest daughter, come to inform him that Ariel had returned and to ask whether he wanted to speak with her. He turned to her, and was pained by how much she—and indeed her sister's, each in their own way—resembled her mother.

'Let her be,' he replied after a moments thought upon the matter.

He knew all too well that his continual reprimands had little effect on Ariel, and that her adventurous spirit would lead to rebellion whether he challenged her or not; in fact, his disapprobation seemed only to encourage her. No, any further action was to be considered thoroughly before it was implemented, this he had learned, albeit many years too late.