The evening that followed this exchange saw Eric late home, too late to convince his mother that he would be fine without her accompaniment. He had been thinking over his conversation with Ariel. She was right, of course, that he needed to remove himself from the limbo he had placed himself in; either he confronted his mother, or forgave her secrecy and forgot about it. The possible repercussions of the former petrified him, but the uncertainty that came with the latter, living with half an identity, seemed impossible to live with. How could he simply throw away his questions having considered them for so long?

As they made the journey side by side he cursed his susceptibility to distraction. It was of no consequence, he assured himself, his mother would see him arrive safely and be on her way. There would be no cause for overlap with Ariel, his secret would remain just that. He would relay his fears to her and come to a decision tomorrow. That was his plan anyway.

He made it to the mouth of the cave, to his credit, stopping to cling to a rock as the pain of his transformation assaulted his lower half. After that it was merely a case of traversing the last few obstacles on shaky legs. He pulled on a shirt and looked then to his mother, bit back the words I told you so as he settled upon the sand beside her, but her gaze was elsewhere. Eric followed it to a high shelf, painted golden by the last light. There, sparkling amidst the dimness, the dancers stood frozen mid-spin.

'I suppose you found that then?'

He hadn't told her about this purchase, and to avoid the question of why the coins had dwindled without anything to show for it, he had fabricated a story of losing the purse on his way to the surface—he had, in fact, buried it beneath the very sand he now sat upon. He wished now that he'd hidden the statuette equally as well.

Eric endured his mother's chiding scepticism in silence, his untruthfulness exposed.

'You told me you wanted to buy a coat, I wouldn't have permitted you to go otherwise,' she continued. That he had lied to her did not escape her notice, but she would approach that later, for now she simply needed him to understand. 'Eric these trips are for necessities, my love, you must only go into town if you need to. If you go there too often you'll—'

'I'll what?' dared Eric. He was tired, fed up of how one-sided she made this seem. It was as though he was the only one hiding something, as though his actions were far worse than hers, when he suspected the very opposite. The secrets he kept had no impact on his mother's life, hers were of direct relevance to him.

Nastasya froze, taken aback by his sharpness. She sighed.

'There's something wrong, isn't there,' she surmised. 'I know there is.'

She studied him then, his firmly set features, the tense muscles around his jaw and eyes, the product of forced stoicism. The look which troubled his countenance was heartbreaking, the fact that he refused to disclose it's cause even more so.

'Eric, I want you to be honest with me,' she implored, 'whatever's come between us these past couple of months is doing no good just sat there. Talk to me.'

Nastasya watched the anxiety in Eric's eyes deepen. Without quite knowing why, her heart began hammering within her breast. She worried often that there would come a day when Eric would learn that she hadn't been entirely honest, in fact she saw it as an inevitability, and then regardless of the King's demands she would have to reveal the circumstances under which he came to be with her.

She waited.

There are but a handful of pivotal decisions that must be made in life, the result of which carries with it the power to impact the remainder of one's days; this, Eric realised, whether he felt ready for it or not, was one of those moments, and it terrified him. He wished he had Ariel's bravery.

Hands shaking, the teenager forced himself to meet his mother's gaze and voiced a question that had plagued him for some time now. 'Who's Nikolaj?'

He watched his mother's face pale and alarm flash within her eyes. The way she looked at him now would have fooled any onlooker into thinking that they had never met. She looked older somehow, frailer. Her hair had long been more grey than brown, and the lines about her face had only multiplied with all her years of worry for her boy, but in that moment she appeared so stricken that Eric almost regretted broaching the subject at all.

'I... I don't know what you're talking about,' she replied falteringly, and it was those words that hurt Eric most of all; even aware as she was of his knowledge on the matter, she still chose to lie to him.

'Yes you do,' he persisted, his voice hollow now.

Tears glistened in his eyes, a sight which would usually have prompted Nastasya to offer solace, to ease his pain in whatever way she could; today she found her mind in such a state of shock that she hardly knew what to do.

'We're not discussing this now,' she stated, though her voice trembled.

'Why?' Eric was somewhat surprised at his own perseverance on the matter, but he felt cheated out of knowing himself entirely and thought it well within his right to ask questions.

'Because it has nothing to do with you!'

'Nothing to do with me! How can it have nothing to do with me? I'm your son!'

'Eric, stop it.'

'No! You don't get to lie to me anymore, I don't understand why you can't just—'

'That's enough!' Nastasya's words were shrill and venomous, and accompanied by a sharp slap that left Eric's cheek stinging.

Both were stunned silent. Nastasya began to shake, a violent tremor that started in her hands, hands that didn't, in that instance, feel like her own. Her eyes fixated on the boy she had raised, on the hand he held to his reddening cheek. Her own lack of control shocked her senseless. She hadn't done that, not to Eric, not to her boy! Had she? She couldn't remember ever having hated herself so much.

Eric remained still, unseeing eyes on the sand. His mother had always been gentle, firm in her insistences, but never had there been such anger in her words, never such condemnation in her eyes as Eric had seen in that moment, and never, not once, had she ever raised a hand to him. On the edge of his periphery he watched as she dropped her head in shame. The damage, however, no matter how much she regretted it, had already been done. Eric turned away, hiding from her the tears that blinded him.

'Go,' he choked.

Nastasya and never before heard his words laced with such pain, and his tearful dismissal rendered her suddenly helpless.

'Eric,' she tried, 'my love—'

'Go... away!' Eric's chest heaved, his body now trembling in a failing attempt to conceal his sorrow. His next words came as only a broken whisper. 'Leave me alone.'

'Eric please...'

'Get out!' His words were louder now, demanding. No less tearful.

Grieving though she was at being the cause of his anguish, she could see that nothing more would be gained from her remaining, and thus tore herself away from the boy she had raised. The thought of leaving him in such a state of distress pained her greatly, and she knew that the moment she was gone he would succumb entirely to his emotions. Perhaps a moment of solitary catharsis would do them both good?

Silently, Nastasya lowered herself into the water, turning back to Eric to bid him goodnight as she had done every night for the past thirteen years. This time though, the words refused to come. It seemed nonsensical after what had just passed between them that she should pretend nothing had changed, and ended up saying nothing at all, slipping beneath the surface with a thousand words trapped behind sealed lips.

Ariel knew from the moment she arrived that something was wrong. Eric's back was to her, his body slumped against the cave wall and his shoulders shuddering. She saw him raise a hand briefly to his eyes and her heart seemed to shatter. He was in pain.

She eased herself from the water and shuffled across the sand. There was no fire to warm the space, and the only light came from the moon, intermittent through the swift and patchy black clouds. Edging closer brought her within earshot, and to Eric's sharp and stuttering breaths. She spoke his name softly. He stiffened, but did not immediately turn towards her.

'Eric, what's wrong?' she tried, resting a hand on his shoulder.

He turned to face her then, though she thought it a reluctant movement, the pale moonlight revealing to her the dampness of his cheeks and the beads of moisture that clung to his lashes. She sought to brush the sadness from his eyes, her fingertips gracing those silver ribbons.

'What happened?' she asked, her own eyeing stinging. He looked broken, defeated.

Eric couldn't answer, couldn't force words past the tightness in his throat, and was relieved when, instead of anticipating as much, Ariel simply guided his head to her shoulder.

'It's okay,' she whispered. Her kindness, the softness with which she spoke, was his undoing. She would hold him, however long he needed and, knowing this, his resolve, tenuous as it had been, cracked. His chest heaved with thick sobs, ebbing and flowing with the rolling waves as though the ocean cried with him and breaking his little mermaid's heart.

'I've got you,' she soothed, fighting against her own tears.

The passage of time was traceable only by the silver arc of the moon, but Ariel paid it no mind, she would not rush him. Eventually, though, Eric quietened, embarrassed suddenly by his lack of composure. This wasn't why Ariel came here, wasn't what he had promised her. He straightened, took a breath.

'Ariel, I'm s—'

'Don't you dare.' Ariel's voice remained gentle. 'Don't you dare apologise.' She took his hand, interlaced their fingers. 'Talk to me.'

And he did. He told her everything; his mother's being here, the conversation that had followed, her reaction, and his too. It was a faltering recollection, fragmented by sudden waves of sadness as he was forced to process what had come to pass.

'I don't know where to go from here,' he admitted, voicing fears that he himself had only just realised. 'I don't know what comes next.'

Ariel listened with a deepening sympathy and an increasing sense of guilt. She had encouraged this. He hadn't been ready.

'Is there anything I can do?' she asked. How to fix this? 'What is it that you want?'

Eric hesitated, collecting his thoughts. What did he want? For his mother to trust him, and to be able to trust her in return. To fix what had been broken between them. To have a life without secrets. A life like everyone else. A normal life. A possibility entered his mind; Ariel had asked whether there was anything she could do, and perhaps there was—not her specifically, but someone she could introduce him to.

Eric had long wondered whether there was anyone out there who could help him, and the one person he could think of had always been off limits. How any times had his mother warned him about the King? Too many times count, and so he had stayed away. But the King couldn't punish him for something he hadn't done, couldn't hold him to account for his mother's crimes—whatever they had been. Surely a just ruler wouldn't do such a thing. Maybe, just maybe, it was worth a try.

'I want...' he began, 'I want to be normal.' He met Ariel's gaze. 'Your father, could he... could he help do you think?'

Ariel was stunned. She couldn't make that decision for him, it was too complicated a question. Perhaps her father could, but whether he would was an entirely different matter.

'I don't know,' she answered truthfully. 'He's... he can be the unreasonable, you've seen that, and his hatred for humans it's... I don't know whether he'd be able to see past that.'

'But I'd be mer when I saw him.' Eric could no longer suppress his hopefulness now that the possibility presented itself. Could he truly be like everyone else?

There was a desperation in Eric's voice, a naïvety that unnerved Ariel. She understood his desire, but he needed to stop and think for a moment.

'I don't know if it would make a difference,' she told him. She gripped his hand, willing him to slow down. 'Eric, listen to me. You have to understand how much of a risk it would be. I... I'd take you, if was what you truly wanted, but you have to be certain. I can't promise what his reaction would be.'

She wanted to help him, to relieve him of some of the pain he was feeling, but to seek her father's help would be to expose them both. Whatever the outcome, life would forever be altered. Was he really willing to risk that? Was his desperation to be normal so great?

She cupped his cheek, saw him relax at her touch. 'Sleep on it,' she advised, 'you have to be certain, Eric.'

It was difficult to quell his frantic thoughts, but Ariel was right, Eric realised, this wasn't a decision to be taken lightly. He agreed that he would consider it thoroughly in the morning.

'Where should I meet you, if I decide to come?' he asked. 'I've never been to Atlantica before.' The thought of traversing the golden city alone was a daunting one, and he was glad that she'd offered to take him.

'You won't need to meet me, I'll be here.'

Eric assumed that Ariel meant she would return at dawn for his decision. Only when she settled down on the sand did he, with no small amount of bewilderment, realise her true intention.

Ariel confirmed his supposition. She wouldn't leave him, not tonight, not with all he had on his mind. It thrilled her and unsettled her, to be spending a night at the surface, and she wondered how her body would react to the prolonged absence of water. Still, she could always slip back into the ocean if the discomfort became too much. She tucked herself against Eric as he lay beside her, kissed his cheek and received one at her temple in return.

'I love you,' she whispered. She hoped he knew that, hoped that amidst all the uncertainty that one truth rang clear for him.

Eric returned the sentiment as the rain returned, a hard drumming against the rocks above them. The ocean stirred, churned by the assault from above, wild and unpredictable, and lying in wait.

Eric woke long before dawn, eyes straining in the darkness. His body was numb, though whether more from cold or trepidation he couldn't be certain. Ariel's presence confused him momentarily, but it was a comfort to have her near. He focused on the pressure of her fin against his legs, her head against his chest, and found reassurance as he sought to collect his thoughts.

The weight of his impending decision pressed heavily on his conscience. He had been frantic last night, he saw that now and regretted it, for Ariel's sake more than his own. It wasn't black and white; there was so much that could go wrong, and the King's reaction could only be guessed at. If he refused to help, either on account of Eric's mother or his being half human, would he turn simply Eric away, or would the punishment be more severe than that? He might never see Ariel again, or his mother—although, if he went ahead with this the latter might never speak to him again anyway. Did she hate him? He had felt certain of it last night.

But, if the King could be reasonable, which Eric had to believe he could, he may be the only one who possessed the power to put an end to these changes. Never again would he sit shivering in this damp cave wondering whether he'd ever be warm again. Never again would he be forced to the surface, stretched between two worlds without feeling like he had a true place in either. It had to be worth a try.

Ariel awoke with the dawn, watched in a mixture of fascination and sympathy as Eric's legs fused to form one shimmering appendage. It was incredible to witness, though his obvious anguish made her heart clench, and she squeezed his hand in the hope that it would prove comforting. As he recovered she held his gaze, her silent question hanging dense in the air between them.

Eric nodded.