Ariel swam in a sort of daze, her mind reeling. Her friend was human—well, half human (she decided that it still counted)—and he had been kind, kinder even than those she knew in Atlantica. Her father, and all that he preached, was wrong. Eric was living, breathing proof of that; unquestionable proof that merfolk and humans were the same, so similar in fact that they could exist harmoniously in the very same body. What would her father say upon learning that? Ariel imagined with satisfaction the look on his face. Then she slowed her thoughts. Her father had shown already just how unreasonable he could be wherever humans were involved or even suggested, and it would be dangerous to expose Eric to such a tyrant. Not that she had planned to, she wouldn't betray her friend's trust like that. It was for he and he alone to reveal, and after a lifetime of careful secrecy she didn't expect him to. It was, regrettably, an understandable decision.

Atlantica loomed ahead of her, prompting Ariel's decent to the seabed so that she may better conceal her return amidst the shadows.

A thought occurred to her then. What if her father already knew? The Princess came to a halt, startled by the weight of this possibility. What if the reasoning behind Eric's living in such isolation was a direct result of his humanity, and his mother's supposed banishment was only second to his own? Knowing her father as she did it didn't seem an impossibility. If he had known, to exile Eric seemed in keeping with his beliefs.

Ariel checked herself and shook free of these thoughts. She was getting ahead of herself, overthinking. She was sure that Eric had troubled himself with these thoughts a million times before; she knew she certainly would have had their scenarios been reversed.

She dedicated her concentration then to returning unnoticed to her bed, hovering at the window of her room until she felt certain that only she remained awake and slipping beneath the covers with the euphoria of achievement swelling within her. Yes, she thought, this new arrangement would suffice.

She woke with her sisters, a little groggy on account of her late night escapade, but otherwise able to feign normality. With difficultly did she push thoughts of Eric from her mind, not wanting to give her sisters any reason to be suspicious. As they readied themselves for the day she sat upon the window ledge, running a brush through her hair and inconspicuously keeping an eye on each of them. Aquata and Attina looked her way once each, briefly; other than that all six remained engaged in their morning ablutions. A success then. Ariel allowed herself a congratulatory inward smile at her unnoticed escape.

What she didn't make an effort to conceal, was her dissatisfaction with their father as they breakfasted with him that morning. She kept her features downcast, a natural reaction, she felt, after what he had done. She despised, truly despised, his bigotry.

After an uneventful meal, during which Triton had informed Ariel that she was to join Attina in her duties that day—Ariel suspected that the reasoning behind this was simply because he thought Attina the most likely to report back every last detail—, the sisters rose, curtseyed, and left the room as one, with only Attina staying behind at her father's command.

'Ariel!'

The little mermaid's heart skipped a beat. She froze, took a calming breath, and turned towards the sound of the voice.

Aquata lingered in one of the hallways alcoves, beckoned her over. Ariel obeyed with only a little trepidation, joining her sister in her seclusion.

'Where did you go last night?'

Ariel startled. Even though she had suspected this particular line of questioning, she hadn't expected Aquata to question her so directly. Attina would have danced around the subject, attempted to trick her into revealing herself. There had been none of that this time, no prelude.

'What do you mean?' she responded, knitting her brows together under the pretence of confusion.

Aquata repeated the question exactly.

'I don't know why you're talking ab—'

'Yes you do,' interrupted Aquata, crossing her arms, 'last night after we'd all gone to bed you swam out the window, when I woke up this morning it was like you'd never left. Where did you go?'

'Are you sure it wasn't a dream?' Ariel thought it worth a try, but her sister remained unimpressed. She sighed, caught out. 'Daddy won't let me leave the city,' she explained, 'I just want to explore. This is the only way.'

This was the truth, if not entirely, but she doubted that Aquata would believe her even if she wereto mention Eric. Oh and by the way I also paid a visit to my friend who's human at night and lives in a cave; it sounded fanciful even in her mind. Thus, she refrained, and it seemed inconsequential, for her sister readily believed what she had been told.

'Just stay out of trouble,' she implored, turning to leave. She seemed disappointed, as though she had been expecting something more.

Ariel called after her. 'Aquata! You won't tell him, will you?'

Aquata scoffed. 'I'd have to actually talk to him for that to happen,' she responded dryly. 'Your secret's safe with me, Ariel.'

Eric couldn't concentrate. At breakfast he was all but silent, and now he sat upon a boulder, staring at a bag of kelp barely a quarter full as though he had never seen anything like it. A combination of tiredness and shock had rendered him useless, it would seem. All his mind was able to process were the events of last night; questions he should have asked—why had she been there in the first place?—and things he should have said—please don't tell anyone about this. The latter he quickly pushed from his mind, knowing that if anybody could be trusted to keep his secret it was her, but her reason for being there continued to mystify him. How had she known that she would find him there? She hadn't. Eric recalled her surprise, their meeting had been as much a shock to her as it had been to him. More so, perhaps. She had been at the surface for another reason then—because she wanted to? It was certainly possible—and simply been drawn to the glow of the fire. It seemed feasible, a staggering coincidence, but feasible nonetheless.

Eric massaged his temples. He would have thought it a dream had he actually slept at all. Why would his mother say if she came home to find him in bed? There would be questions, he was sure of that, but it wasn't uncommon for sleep to evade him at the surface. It wouldn't be difficult to convince her that he simply hadn't slept well as a result of the temperature or some other such factor.

With Ariel no longer present to occupy his days he was having to slip back into his old routine, and was reminded how mind-numbingly boring stripping kelp was without his friends bright spirit and sense of adventure. He decided then, given his lack of productivity, that sleep was infinitely preferable. When he had done that he would process his thoughts properly and would be a more enjoyable companion for Ariel come this evening.

So, with a new plan, he gathered his belongings and made for home, passing out the moment his head hit the pillow.

Nastasya froze in the doorway, more than a little surprised to find herself with company upon returning home, a hefty barrel under one arm. She placed her cargo to one side and took herself to Eric's side. They had only one bed—a table top secured to the wall, sailcloth and curtains sewn atop one another to from a sort of mattress—given that it was only she who ever spent the night here, but it was always available to Eric during the day if ever he needed it. He did now, it would seem, for he hadn't so much as stirred at the intrusion.

In the dim light Nastasya looked down upon him. He looked peaceful, she thought, more so than she had seen him for weeks. His eyes fluttered beneath their lids and she wondered what he dreamt of, certainly his subconscious did not appear to trouble him. She was unspeakably glad of this.

She sat cautiously, afraid to wake him, and watched his steady breaths like one obsessed. She recalled his first evening here, when the King had arrived at her door, holding from the wrist a boy who, at fist glance, had looked scarcely alive. To this day she did not know what had happened to him, how he had obtained such bruising, such injuries, though she was certain that he had done nothing to deserve it. It had been shortly after this that she had learned of the Queen's demise, overhearing a trio of young explorers as they passed by her home. How many sleepless nights had the proximity of her death and Eric's arrival caused the outcast? It seemed impossible that the two could be connected; at least, she couldn't fathom how they would be, couldn't imagine her boy being the cause of any such misfortune. It remained a mystery, one of many.

How long he had slept she couldn't know, but as sunset approached Nastasya was forced to rouse him from his slumber.

'Eric?' She spoke softly so as not to startle him and placed a hand upon his shoulder.

He came to slowly, blinking the sleep from his eyes and answering his mother's wake up call with a low groan.

'It's almost sunset my love,' she prompted further.

Eric sat up, stretched, yawned, and looked about blearily. Whether from lack of sleep or too much Nastasya couldn't be certain, but he looked exhausted.

His awareness returned gradually. Initially he was as surprised to find himself at home as Nastasya had been to find him here. He wondered how he had gotten here, remembered, and the source of his surprise became instead how much time had passed him by. He looked to his mother, then to the pathetic quantity of kelp that had been his only chore, mumbling an apology in regards to his laziness.

'Oh there's no need for that,' Nastasya assured him, brushing his remark side, 'clearly you needed to rest.' She paused, watched as he rose. 'Are you feeling alright?' she wondered, 'there's nothing wrong I hope?'

Eric shook his head, affirming that he simply hadn't slept well the previous night.

'Actually, I was thinking about going into town tonight,' he confessed. The thought had entered his mind last night, following Ariel's departure. He wondered if he could perhaps bring something to show her, something new. There existed no small amount of trepidation at the prospect of returning, namely because he wasn't sure he could handle anymore news of such magnitude as the people there seemed capable of producing. In truth he had been surprised at his desire to return there at all.

This surprise seemed a shared emotion then, for Nastasya's brows shot upwards at the suggestion. 'You were?'

Eric nodded. 'Is that alright?'

'Of course! Of course it is!' Nastasya fished the purse from one of the draws and held it out to him. 'Here, you'll need this. Make sure you're careful. Do you want me to come to the surface with you?'

The eighteen year old took the gift with a quiet thanks, before insisting that he would be fine on his own, there remained enough of time that she need not worry.

'Well... if you're sure my love.'

They bid one another goodnight and Eric headed to the caves alone. He had debated not telling her his plans, considered simply taking the money without a word. Her catching him unaware had made that impossible. What would he tell her though? He had no intention of purchasing anything for himself, and he couldn't very well explain the true reasoning behind what he bought—whatever that would be, for in truth he didn't quite know yet. He would cross that bridge when he came to it, was his decision, perhaps get her something too, pretend that had been his intention all along. First and foremost though, something for Ariel, something to ignite her curiosity; but what?

The tide was on the retreat, the rocks that surrounded the caves entrance exposed, and Eric knew that it would be long after dark before Ariel arrived. Plenty of time then to peruse the various amenities that lined the cobbled street before him. Spring was fast approaching, the days lengthening ever so gradually, but it seemed that most shops remained open. Anxiously, Eric tightened his grip on the purse. Seawater dripped from the fabric and the coins inside shifted with a series of faint metallic clinks. Further up the street, carved into a suspended wooden plaque, he saw the word Hansen's, the site of his previous visit. He fully intended to avoid it. How could he hope to explain himself?

Instead he turned left down a side street, narrower but otherwise much the same. People milled about in pairs and small groups, enjoying the balmy evening. Some glanced Eric's way, some not. A few openly stared, eying him up and down and striking a self-consciousness into the merman-turn-human that made him move swiftly onwards.

He eventually came to a stop before a stall, tilted boxes displaying a colourful if reduced array of what Eric read to be fruit. He had never had any himself, but his mother had seemed to think they were quite a treat. Had Nikolaj told her that? Had he given her some?

'Want anythin' before we close?'

Eric was broken out of his silent musings by the coarse voice of a girl who looked to be not much older than himself, stood behind the display, her face hidden in shadow. He faltered, stunned by the variety and his own lack of knowledge.

Before he could respond though the girl spoke again. 'Ye'd be doin' me a favour takin' the peaches, they'll be bad by mornin' otherwise.'

There were two left, huddled together at the bottom of a box which Eric assumed had been full at one point—certainly it made no sense to provide such a space for so little produce. He accepted, for they looked well enough to him, and exchanged his first coins for a brown paper bag. For a moment he stood still, watching as the girl examined the disks one by one, afraid that she would simply hand them back and demand appropriate payment. She didn't; she slipped them into a bag at her hip and held out a single coin in return, which Eric took with thanks. Change; his mother had explained that too.

'Good evenin' to ye.'

'Good evening,' Eric repeated, turning away with no small satisfaction at his success. The trip looked less daunting already.

He followed the maze of streets, stopping when something caught his eye. To his belongings he added a pair of hot cross buns—something he hadn't heard of before, but had been assured by the baker were delectable—a selection of flowers, and a tricorn hat, which he hoped would provide Ariel with some amusement. The purse grew lighter, the few coins he had left clicking softly with every step. This would do for today, until he had sufficient funds for a second trip.

Eric began back the way he'd come, following the sound of the sea towards the low moon. His feelings regarding the human town had shifted that evening; no longer did he dread the prospect of coming here. In fact, quite the opposite, he looked forward to returning.

'Excuse me?'

There were fewer people about now, the shops shutting on account of the late hour. Even so, Eric did not suspect himself the intended recipient of this call. Who would desire his attention anyway? When he was called by name, though, he became less certain, and glanced over his shoulder towards the sound of the voice.

It was Freja, the women who had been so kind to him before. Eric had intended to avoid all connected with his last visit, but there was no hope of that now, not without uncharacteristic rudeness.

He stopped, offered a small smile as she approached.

'It was Eric, wasn't it? The same as the Prince. I remember because my Uncle... well, never mind. I only wondered whether you were alright, that's all? You left us in such a hurry before.'

The was a genuine concern in her eyes, that of a mother. Eric had seen it many times before. The same as the Prince. He recalled Nikolaj's dramatics at their being introduced; they made a little more sense now on account of the connection.

'I'm fine,' he assured her, 'sorry. It was just... it was a little too much.'

Freja nodded her understanding. 'He can be overbearing,' she agreed. 'You get used to it after a while though, all his ravings about mermaids. It's the drink. You know he works at the palace and I'm sure they encourage it! You wouldn't think it wise for a prison guard. He says they've got one... a mermaid that is, I mean can you believe it? The nonsense that man comes up with!'

Here she paused to catch her breath. 'Anyway, I came to give you these.' She held up a pair of boots, black and a little worn. 'They were my husbands, but he doesn't wear them anymore, and I remembered that you...' She trailed off and looked down to his bare feet. 'Will you take them?'

'I don't have much money,' admitted Eric regretfully.

'I'm not asking for any. Please, I'd feel better if you took them. Call it a gift.' She tucked the boots under his free arm before Eric could protest.

'Thank you,' he said, a little taken aback by the gesture. Such simple words seemed hardly sufficient. This woman had no reason to help him, didn't know anything about him. It was kindness, plain and simple.

'I won't hear it,' she responded. 'And you're welcome to come in for a hot drink whenever you like, or just to stand by the fire a while.'

She pitied him, Eric realised, his way of living. Still, he was grateful for the offer and told her as much.

She smiled, turned to leave. 'I'd best be getting home, Hanna and Oskar will be wondering where I've gone. I'll see you again, take care of yourself.'

Eric thanked her again and bid her goodnight. He stood alone, briefly stunned, before continuing towards his destination, arms full and head spinning. He would have to think more on what she had told him regarding her Uncle, what she had assumed to be the fruit of drunkenness. He had mentioned Eric's mother by name though, so there was some truth in what he said, the only problem was separating it from the fabrication.