Cedar watched the sister's retreat. She would have liked to see the transformation, to admire the effects of her handiwork. Her mistress had seemed pleased, but in truth there had been some guesswork involved. She didn't admit this though.

'You'll see the brat's again soon enough.' Ursula's voice carried with it a sick satisfaction as having snared the Princesses so easily. 'All we need to do now is wait.' She scoffed, lounged in the shadows. 'What children won't do for love. Bah! Pathetic.'

The mermaid forced a sneer by way of agreement, though truly how was she expected to know? She had never been in love, nor been loved for that matter. Her own mother hadn't wanted her and the King had kept such a close eye on her during her time in Atlantica that no other had dared approach. She raised her hand to her face, invisible fingertips tracing the white scar from her brow to her cheekbone. Who could love her now?

13 years prior:

There had existed not a hint of regret in the King's features as he looked over her, only a stony determination and an unreasonable—Cedar thought so anyway—wariness of the mermaid who found herself so suddenly exiled.

'I will not have you endangering my daughters,' was the only reasoning he gave.

'But I would never—'

'Not another word!'

Cedar was silenced, bewildered by the turn of events. Zohra has called upon her to comfort the motherless Princesses, to which she had immediately applied herself, heartbroken for them. The King had had her seized without explanation and, though she had pleaded her innocence, it seemed his mind was made up. She was, he felt, a threat; so much so that her banishment would come into immediate effect.

And so it was that she found herself homeless and friendless, leagues from Atlantica with an order never to return. She sat, lost and afraid, in the shadow of a large boulder, trying in vain to gather her courage.

She had lived in Atlantic all her life, growing up in the orphanage and working in the palace from sixteen. Four years of servitude and devotion to her duties for the King to dismiss her as though she were no more than a common barnacle, and without cause! She felt she deserved a little more respect than that. It was true that he had never truly trusted her—though precisely why this was she didn't know—but why not simply terminate her employment? Why the need for complete banishment? It made no sense, and the lack of clarity infuriated her.

In the distance black shapes circled, two... no, three of them. Sharks. A shiver ran up Cedar's spine, though truly what did it matter whether they found her? Nobody would miss her.

She had—or at least had been told—that she had been found abandoned at the palace as a baby. No effort had been spared in searching for who might have left her there, but to no avail. The King had sent her to the orphanage and there she had spent her childhood. The idea that she was unwanted hurt, but unwanted she was. She loathed her parents for leaving her with no explanation. She wanted to know why, why she had been left with nothing but a fist-sized pebble upon which one word was engraved: Cedar. She still had it, or at least she had; it sat nestled under her pillow back at the palace, in her tiny room among the servants quarters. She tried to tell herself that someone must have cared for her a little, else she would have been nameless too. She clung to this idea now.

The sharks were closer now. Tiger sharks. Could they smell her? If so then she reeked of fear.

What a day it had been. Despite the King's misgivings, Queen Athena had always been kind to her, and so to think of her gone, killed by humans in front of her family, couldn't but bring tears to Cedar's eyes. And those girls, those seven little Princesses, how her heart ached for them. And Eric... Cedar paused. What had become of the Prince? How surprised everyone had been when the royal family came home with him; a human found alone at the surface, saved by the Queen. Cedar had found, to her surprise, that she resented him. She too had been found alone, why should they chose to bring him into their family and not her. Granted the King and Queen had barely met one another when she was a baby, but still, Eric had been given what she had craved for so long. A small part of her had hated him for it.

Jealousy. Envy. These were not traits she was proud of, but they existed within her nonetheless. Jealous of the children who found families whilst she remained without. Jealous of the servants who maintained their freedom—she had enjoyed no such luxury.

The King had always kept a close eye on her, never seemed to trust her at all. She didn't know why, and despite her best efforts at amiability and respect when they seldom crossed paths he had remained indifferent; not once had her offered a smile, nor an acknowledgement of her hard work. And she had worked hard. Every day. This in a vain attempt to prove that the decision to employ her—one which the King in particular had been reluctant to take—was not one to regret. The Queen had noticed, praised her commitment once or twice; how quickly things had changed with her gone!

Cedar pressed herself further into the shadows, curling her fin close to her body and shifting round to remove herself from the view of the prowling sharks. She wouldn't be able to remain here much longer. What would they do if they saw her? What would she do? She missed the security of the palace, the certainty of food and a bed at the end of the day.

A shadow passed over her, halting her self-pity. She became aware of her own palpitating heart and trembling hands. She froze. To her right, barely ten feet from her, another of the huge predators passed her by. For a second she dared to hope that she hadn't been seen, that by staying perfectly still she could assume the pretence of invisibility. Her's was wishful thinking. The pair of sharks tossed their heads at one another before turning, their bright eyes locking on the terrified mermaid.

Rationality quickly abandoned her. Cedar scrambled up from the seabed and fled as quickly as her fin would carry her. Perhaps if she had remained still and calm they would have let her alone, but they would not ignore her retreating form now. Without glancing back Cedar knew they were in pursuit. She worked her tail harder, scanning her surroundings in blind panic for something that would conceal her. Her breaths came fast and sharp, her lungs complaining at the sudden exertion with a deepening fire. She wouldn't stop though. She couldn't.

The shipwrecks materialised from the gloom to her left, a sure hiding place if she could reach them. Cedar changed direction, buying herself a few more precious seconds as the movement caught her pursuers off guard. Gaping jaws missed her by inches, drawing a desperate sob from the mermaid. She screamed for help, though the attempt was surely futile; she was utterly alone out here.

Her body ached terribly as she came to edge of the wrecks and the presence of the sharks behind her pressed ever closer. She spied a jagged gap nearby, the rotting wood being the closest thing she had to salvation. Her fingertips graced the opening. Too late. Powerful jaws closed around her fin, teeth embedding themselves in the soft flesh in an explosion of crimson mist. The shock stole her voice as she was tossed roughly against the ship where a rusted nail lay in wait, exposed and sharp and finding it's target with startling and devastating accuracy.

Cedar screamed. She fell beside the decaying vessel, hands clutched around the bleeding socket, her fin twitching in agony. Nothing but the pain registered, her own wailing stealing any possibility of hearing what happened around her. From one eye the world spun, pulsing in and out of focus with the rapid beat of her heart.

A shadow brought almost complete darkness.

'Hush child.'

Cedar whimpered, consciousness slipping. The identity of the person before her she could only guess at, but the company was a comfort.

'I can help you, though having already saved your life I'd say it was only fair that I receive something I return.'

Cedar had agreed. Anything to end her suffering. She dwelled often upon that day, upon how suddenly and irreversibly her life had changed. The pain still haunted her.

She had woken in Ursula's lair, fin disfigured but functional, her right eye gone, the socket filled instead by a smooth pearl that did nothing to return her sight; instead it acted as a looking glass for the sea witch, producing a vision in a bubble above the centre cauldron so that she may see what Cedar did.

As payment the exiled mermaid became a prisoner-come-servant and later an apprentice, doing as her mistress bid. When she was strong enough, recovered from the shark attack, she was frequently sent out to spy on unsuspecting victims and bring them to the sea witch, promising the opportunity of a new life and the help that they desired.

She didn't like being used, nor did she exactly approve of the way Ursula operated, snaring those desperate souls in a deal that could never win. She had been at her weakest when Ursula came to her, else she would never have agreed to a lifetime of servitude. When the lessons of magic and the brewing of potions came though, she began even to enjoy her new life. A more devout student there had never been.

The Princesses disappeared from view. It was a strange contrast of emotions she felt. On the one hand she relished the opportunity to ensnare the King, as was the ultimate aim of this endeavour. She despised him for what he had done to her. However, to take such advantage of his daughters made her uneasy. To her surprise she actually felt sorry for them. She knew what it was like to be tempted by Ursula, to be offered something when you simply couldn't say no. The Princesses had acted out of love—something that drove so many to this place—out of a desire to protect someone they cared about. Cedar didn't know anyone she would do that for, nor anyone who would do as much for her, but the concept of love was one she dreamt of, something she wished for. She wanted it for herself, and she wanted it for them.

She shook these thoughts from her mind, afraid that Ursula would think her disloyal. She was indebted, she reminded herself, for thirteen years now she had served and she would do for thirteen more because, though she shuddered to acknowledge it, this was the closest thing she had to a home. She couldn't jeopardise that. The importance she placed upon belonging was too great.

Nastasya searched the shipwrecks, called Eric's name for hours and hours. She took took a circular route through the kelp forest doing the same, but arrived home without any luck. She dropped exhausted onto the edge of her bed and wept. There were not words sufficient to articulate the anxiety and regret that plagued her. She had failed at motherhood. Twice.

No, that wasn't fair. She had failed with Eric, the the first she had to believe to have been for the best. The King had taken one child from her and delivered another to her door twenty years later.

She thought of her daughter often—every day—and of the father who didn't know she existed. When Eric had spoken his name last night she had been overwhelmed by memories, so much so that there had been no room left for rationality. If she could see Eric now she would tell him that, she would explain her reaction, unacceptable though it had been.

Nikolaj—her heart clenched painfully—had been her first and only love. She had been young, reckless and driven by fascination. She had frequented a nearby lagoon in the days before visiting the surface was forbidden, enamoured with the human world and those two legged creatures so like themselves that wandered its greenness. He had captured her attention one golden afternoon, young and muscular, lounging on the bank without a care in the world, his arms tucked neatly behind his head, oblivious. She had been sure he was sleeping, and her certainty made her careless, bolder. She recalled his face to memory now, how his eyes had bulged to behold her in the water. Without the presence of mind to flee she had simply frozen, he too, their eyes locked. Who would blink first? It had been Nastasya, realising suddenly the possible repercussions and turning to flee.

'Wait!' he had cried. 'Don't go, please.'

And she hadn't. She had stayed as he approached her, wading tentatively through the water, as curious as she.

Nastasya sighed wistfully at the memory of his hand upon her cheek, of his words in her ear as they continued their meetings, sheltered by the reeds and the trees surrounding the pool. She had learned so much from him, and fallen so deeply in love that it seemed impossible he was no longer in her life. There was a reason for this though. A month after that first encounter they lay together in bliss beneath a cedar tree, the difference in anatomy making for a somewhat fumbling union, but the pleasure had not been less because of it. Neither had thought anything of it, weren't even aware that conception was possible. I had been though.

Nastasya remembered her fear when she had found out. And then she had been summoned before the King. Someone had informed him of her connection with a human and, while visiting the surface was permitted, to make contact with the human world was not. Only when she revealed her pregnancy could he be persuaded not to punish her there and then. What she had done could not be forgiven though, and exile was the King's decision. The Queen had persuaded him to postpone the sentence until the child was born and he had agreed so long as she ceased all affiliation with the human immediately.

Nastasya had begged, pleaded that she may at least be permitted one last visit to explain this to her beloved. She hadn't even told him about their child. She had been ignored, despite Queen Athena's efforts, denied access perpetually. King Triton's hatred of humanity had been deeply engrained even then. She had obeyed, fearful of the repercussions that could befall her child if she hadn't. Oh! how she ached to think of her sweet Nikolaj abandoned like that. What must he have thought?

Despite her fears her daughter had been born mer, and then Nastasya had made a decision that had haunted her conscience every day since. She was to be exiled, of that there could be no negotiation, but she loved her girl more than life itself and would do anything to grant her a better life. So she had appealed to Their Majesties, her daughter clutched to her breast. Was there a possibility that her baby could remain in Atlantica?

The resulting decision, after much deliberation, had been affirmative, but the Queen implored Nastasya somewhat regretfully to understand that she would not be permitted to visit. Her exile was absolute. She had agreed, sobs muffled by the wrappings that held her child snug as she breathed in her scent one last time.

'Mama loves you,' she had whispered, voice breaking.

This, the King believed, the pardoning of her daughter, was a debt that Nastasya must one day repay; and repay she had, by taking in Eric all those years later.

The days following her banishment were the darkest and loneliest of her life. Every decision weighed so heavily upon her that some days she could not even summon the energy to move. Even now she often found it a struggle to rise in the morning, to face her demons.

What she wouldn't give to see her Cedar again.