Author's Note: Would you believe that the last line of the last chapter was actual dialogue from the Prince in the original Little Mermaid? "I know you will share in my happiness, for you love me better than anyone else"? What a heel. I also felt it wasn't too out-of-character for Alucard since he can be pretty selfish and childish himself. Remember when he describes Integra and Seras as, "A master all my own, and a servant all my own; these women belong to me." He may love Integra and Seras with all his heart, but it's a possessive, childish heart.

Oh yeah, if you have time go to Youtube and watch "The Little Mermaid Deleted Scene - Fathoms Below (Extended Opening)." It's relevant to this chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own or make money off of any of this. Not Kohta Hirano's Hellsing, Bram Stoker's Dracula, or any version of The Little Mermaid. Also, just letting you know I'm back to borrowing text directly from H.C. Andersen's short story for the second half of this chapter. I strongly encourage you to read H.C. Andersen's short story for yourself to be able to discern for yourself which is his writing and which is mine.


The next week passed in a miserable blur. Unsurprisingly, no one let Seras walk on her feet since she had cut them up so badly, which she was fine with since she knew that walking would only renew her wounds, and she was not sure she had the strength to pretend that she did not feel pain, nor hide the blood.

The female servants bandaged her feet snugly in soft cloth bandages, and they had her sit in a rolling chair or recline in bed to pass the time. She was relieved that she did not have to listen to wedding preparations except through the servants' gossip, which she could often ignore or openly scowl at.

She knew that she could probably tell them through writing, but who would believe her? And if they did see her feet magically cut up after they witnessed her walk for a time on a smooth marble floor, how would they react? Would they think her a witch? Burn her? Hang her? Ship her off to an asylum like they wanted to since she arrived? And Seras doubted it would stop the wedding anyway, because she could see that the Count rarely thought of anything else. It would only cause a brief commotion that would make her already miserable life even more difficult, before the inevitable wedding came and she died the next morning.

She saw that the Count was not his own person anymore. His eyes, his smile, his every move and gesture… they were all for her.

She remembered what Helena had told her about love the night before, as Captain Bernadotte had left to find a cab.

"There are different kinds of love in this weary world of ours, my dear," she had said. "There is a love so fleeting that it passes by as a mayfly. There is the kind that lasts, a day, or a year… And there is love so deep that it changes your smile. Look for the smile."

Seras saw the smile, now. She saw that the Count's very smile had changed, when the church girl made him the happiest man in the world by agreeing to marry him. Even if Seras did confess her life and her love for him, it would not make a difference.

No, it's better this way, she thought.

She could see now that she was never meant to be happy. She thought miserably of her long life and realized that the only time she had ever been happy was when her parents had been alive. She thought of long sunny days swimming happily in that colorful coral reef, surrounded by dozens of species of brightly colored fish, not far beneath the golden surface. But then monsters had emerged from the deep and devoured her parents, and turned the waters of their home red with blood. She thought of how she had woken up, cold and alone and afraid in the middle of the night, swaying in the dark waters of an empty tide. Her world had been an endless night since then—always searching, always reaching, always yearning for the light.

She thought of how she had traveled with the eels through the cold current that brought her to the Sea King's palace. She remembered how the smiling faces of the royal family always melted when they saw her face; how she had worked there alone for many years, without any friends or family to love or comfort her. She had been tolerated, but never wanted.

She thought about how Schrodinger had followed her endlessly beneath the waves, keeping her company but mocking and jeering her every flip of the way. She'd thought of kind Harkonnen offering to help her sing for his concerts, but now she felt sure he'd never meant it. He was just being nice to her, or only felt like he should because he had loved her mother. He got her to be free labor to decorate his stages for the real princess's singing, or… he had been sincere, and the royal family's bigotry kept her in the shadows. Either way, Seras never felt she could leave the dark.

She'd felt… she'd thought she could finally find brighter tides on the surface. How the surface had been her one chance to find happiness, and then she saw the Count, and she realized now that all her hopes of happiness fled when she fell in love with him. She could have stayed living in the surface for years, happy to bask in the sun on the rocks, combing her hair as she listened to the gulls and the sea mammals gossip as they came up for air, just like her mother had always wanted for her. Just like she and her mother had always planned. But then she had fallen in love with the Count, and all was lost.

For a year Seras mooned after him from under the sea, and she had felt that the only way she could be happy was if she was by his side. What a fool she had been. Once Zorin made her human (after the Sea King destroyed everything, she thought miserably), she felt for a year that the only way she could be happy was if he loved her back.

'He'll never love me back,' she realized. 'He never would have.'

Long before Seras joined his side, he pined for a girl whose face he already knew, whose character he already admired. Seras was just a place-holder until he could be with the girl he truly loved.

Seras wept as she realized it was never her. It would never have been her. She'd tried so hard for so many months to be the kind of girl he could love. She'd smiled her brightest, sat up her straightest, walked her daintiest, followed him through towns and forests and dinners and parties and moonlit balconies. She'd nodded when he told her of things she knew nothing about, smiled sympathetically when he told her of his many annoyances, cried when he told her of matters close to his heart, and touched his hand when he told her his deepest sorrows and fears, all hoping he would eventually see her as a wife.

'But he didn't,' she thought as sobs racked her body, 'He never saw me as a wife. He only ever saw me as a child to replace the daughter that his wife died giving birth to all those years ago.'

She was beginning to wish she'd never laid eyes on the count; wished she'd never fallen in love with him; wished she'd never come on land to chase him…

Let's not be hasty, Seras thought.

Even at her most miserable, when she felt her insides were made of the black and burning peat marches beneath the sea, she could not bring herself to truly regret coming onto land. She'd had many miserable experiences here on land, but she had some good times too. She got to walk, she got to run, and she got to stay all day in the sun. Thanks to her new feet she got to feel hot, dry sand beneath her toes; got to walk through many pretty gardens smelling sweet roses; got to explore sweetly scented woods; got to ride horses through emerald fields and the Lake District. She got to meet the Old Grey, and hold his head in her arms and blow air on his nose, and have horse-riding lessons with Captain Bernadotte.

Even in her deepest despair, where grief shrouded her view of the world, Seras could not bring herself to feel sad about meeting Captain Bernadotte. He had always been so kind and gentle; so cheerful and easy-going. It was hard not to feel happy around him, and it hurt her how happy she was in hindsight, to have known him and to have spent time with him. If her soul lived on when she was gone, she thought she would miss him the most.

Even in her deepest despair, Seras could not bring herself to truly wish she was dead. There were things she liked. There were still so many things she loved that she wanted to see, and that she had wanted to see again. While far from perfect, she remembered that beautiful castle by the sea, with the soft white sand by the cove, the cool ocean breeze, the expansive emerald fields, and the sweet-smelling woods in the distance. If she could survive the Count's wedding, it would be enough for her to return to that castle by the sea, and just go out to the stables with Captain Bernadotte and the Wild Geese, and ride horses and just… be…

And she wept because she knew she could never have these things. Zorin—cruel, sadistic, spiteful Zorin—would never let her return to sea when she knew that dangling her death over her head would bring more misery than the prospect of slavery ever could.

Seras wondered how she could have ever been dumb enough as to enter a deal with someone who clearly enjoyed tormenting any living thing in her power. There had to have been another way to have become human, and Seras wished she had been patient and smart enough to find another way. And now it was all too late.

Seras thought of these things as the wedding preparations buzzed around her.

There was some debate as to where to marry. The Count wanted to marry his fiancé forthwith and take his lovely bride home in his castle by the sea, while the Van Helsings wanted them to have a Catholic wedding in a cathedral. Not just any cathedral, but the Basilica of St. Nicholas in Amsterdam, since that was where her family had married for generations (all but her father, who had married her mother in India). This meant they would need to board a ship to Amsterdam.

After a week it was decided, and soon they had a superb ship made ready for the voyage.

It was decided that the Count and Dr. Van Helsing would travel in a swift passenger ship to Amsterdam to arrange the wedding, while Lady Integra, Sir Hellsing, Seras, Captain Bernadotte, his men and the wedding party all traveled on a ship that the Count owned, and which would be splendidly decorated for a wedding retinue.

"It pains me to part from you, even for a moment," the Count told his lovely bride-to-be.

"It's for the best," she answered, "It's bad luck for the bride and bridegroom to see each other for the wedding."

"Be that as it may…"

"Hush, she shall see each other soon enough," she smiled.

He kissed her hand, but looked deeply into her eyes and would not move. "I was nearly killed in a shipwreck this time last year. The thought of losing you, when I am not there to protect you…"

"You won't," she said, not too unkindly. "The weather has been calm and there are no signs of storms. Amsterdam is not far. We shall be there soon enough."

He was only mildly reassured, but it was enough for him to smile and press his forehead against hers. "Just think, to be married in a cathedral in the harbor, with its front steps leading out to the ocean…" his smile was one of pure love. "The ocean, where you and I first saw each other."

Seras gagged.

By then, Seras was walking again—although it was only a little for short ways, which she was happy with. She'd stolen a few rolls of bandages while she was still recovering, so she could wrap her feet under her shoes and skirts, so in case she walked too much and bled again she would not leave a trail. In that time, she also learned to hide her pain with each step. She thought of ballerinas, who walked on the tips of their toes so they looked like they were gliding, yet never showed their pain. If they could retain their graceful ballerina movements and their smile while they glided across stage on the tips of their toes, Seras felt she could do the same as she walked on knives.

Her heart sank as they boarded the ship that would lead to her doom. It was a beautiful, grand, richly furnished three-masted vessel; more splendid than even the one in which she had first saw the Count. They had many highborn ladies and gentlemen to accompany, so that they could witness the Count and his soon-to-be countess's wedding.

"I trust you aren't afraid of the sea, my silent child" the count purred into her ear, as they went on board the magnificent vessel that was to carry them to the land of the neighboring country.

Seras started, for she did not know he was there, nor that he took such notice of her. 'Now you notice me,' she thought, and saw her miserable reflection from the murky waters. She was much thinner, paler, and full of pallor than she'd remembered.

She then started when her master's two huge black hounds ran past her onto the ship, panting and barking happily.

Lady Integra was waiting for them on the ship. "Must you bring your hunting hounds?" she asked as they ascended the ramp.

"But of course, my lady," the Count answered smoothly, "They are as much a part of my family as this one here." He placed his hands on Seras' shoulders.

Seras' felt both touched and hurt more deeply by the gesture.

Lady Integra nodded curtly, and walked further into the ship.

And so Seras slumped miserably into the ship, ready to await her death.

But when they left the set sail into the open sea, she felt… elated, somehow. Far from the smog and crowd of London and into the bright, clear, vast seas, she felt refreshed and rejuvenated. She could feel the sun shine directly on her and not through the soot of factories, nor the parapets of tall buildings. She could feel the sweet salty sea air fill her lungs and heal her tired, sick body like the healing waters of Bath. She could feel the breeze kiss her face and tease her hair, and she couldn't remember the last time she felt wind.

She had been indoors in London for so long, over so many months, that she'd become accustomed to the dry, stale air from inside the apartments of Carfax estate. While the Carfax grounds had been much greener, wider, and brighter than the London flat, they were not as good as the castle by the sea. There was nothing as fabulous, as soul-healing as the sea breeze.

Seras had always assumed that because she was no longer a mermaid, she no longer needed the sea to keep her alive. That may have been true in the strictest sense, as she no longer needed water to breathe nor soak her fish's tail, she realized that she needed it to refresh her soul. She had been a suffocating house plant in London, shriveling up from want of water and sun. Now that she was out in the sea, where she could deeply inhale the salty sea air, feel the wind blowing in her face, and admire the sparkling blue waters all around them. She could enjoy the sound of splashing as the beautiful sea lapped up the keel of the ship, she felt as if her shriveled little soul was soaking up all the sun and water she needed.

She sighed with elation, happier than she could ever remember being, even before Carfax.

"I'm glad to see you're feeling better, ma cher," Captain Bernadotte said, and she turned to look at him.

He stood near her, with a coil of rope slung over his shoulder. He was back in his coarse sea officer clothes. He must have seemed like quite the seafaring gentleman, while she looked to be the innocent ingénue in her white muslin gown.

She blushed, pleased and embarrassed by the attention, and bowed her head graciously.

He smiled, a closed-lipped smile that was a little sad and resigned, and carried on.

Captain Bernadotte was to direct this ship, along with all the sailors who had been the crew of the Wild Geese ship.

At first there had been some debate as to whether it would be best to let some washed up old former sailors, who had worked on the Count's ground as grooms and laborers for a year, man a ship. But most of them had proudly stated that they'd been running ships since infancy, and could do so in their sleep. Captain Bernadotte vouched for them. There were other crewmates Seras had not seen on the estate, whom she had not known about, and she later learned that they were other Wild Geese who had taken on other jobs sailing other ships while they waited till their captain, Pip Bernadotte, could "get back into the swing of things," as it were. Some of the men who had been on land like Seras all these months were a little rusty with knot-tying, but they quickly got back into it.

They were just as happy to be back in the sea as Seras was.

They'd all been gritty, grizzly, rusty, hang-dog fellows who had scared Seras when she had been a wee little mermaid watching humans from afar in the water, but now that she walked among them she was happy to be around them. They loved the ship and they loved the sea as much as Seras did, and it was hard for her not to be enchanted by their energy.

As other humans on board struggled to find their "sea legs," as the sailors put it, Seras strolled in sync with the swaying ship. She was a mermaid, born and bred; the swaying tide was as much a part of her as the beats of her own heart.

She beamed as she watching the sailors climb up the masts to man the ropes and the sails above her head, and laughed a silent laugh as she saw the sea gulls screech and fly around them, and heard the playful screes of dolphins below them.

I'll tell you a tale of the bottomless blue

And it's 'hey' to the starboard, heave ho!

Look out, lad, a mermaid be waiting for you

In mysterious fathoms below

Seras smiled but furrowed her brows, for the pleasant melody sounded vaguely familiar to her. Once, in another life, long, long ago…

The nostalgia brought a smile to her face and a sway to her hips. She found herself swaying in rhythm to the song as the sailors sang. When they saw her, they laughed and encouraged her to dance more openly with them on deck.

Seras pushed off the bulwarks and made her way to the center of the deck, where she swayed and sashayed to the sailor's song. They laughed as they finished their old verse and the started the whole thing again, just for her.

I'll tell you a tale of the bottomless blue

And it's 'hey' to the starboard, heave ho!

Seras spun around so her long skirt fanned out around her and she reached out her hand to an imaginary dance partner, "heave ho!"

Look out, lad, a mermaid be waiting for you

In mysterious fathoms below

Seras noticed that the men snickered and winked and made an imaginary elbow nudge toward Captain Bernadotte, who sneered good-naturedly to let them know he wasn't affected by their mockery, and went up to the bow of the ship. Seras thought it passing odd, but she wasn't exactly in a position to ask.

Captain Bernadotte grinned from the starboard bow.

"Isn't this great?" he said, "The salty sea air! The wind blowing in your face…" He lit a cigarette, inhaled deeply, and then exhaled a lungful of tobacco smoke. "Perfect day to be at sea, eh, Mademoiselle?"

Lady Integra Hellsing was currently getting sick off the starboard bow. She had not yet found her "sea legs," it seemed. When she pulled her head up, it was 'green around the gills,' and just as clammy. "No, Mr. Bernadotte," she hiccupped, "Delightful." She then got sick overboard.

Part of Seras still resented this woman for stealing her life, so she found a little sadistic pleasure in her discomfort.

"A fine strong wind and a following sea," a stout old sailor exclaimed as he tied a rope, "King Triton must be in a friendly type mood!"

Seras stopped dead in her tracks. She must have looked like she got slapped. 'King Triton?' her lips moved on their own. How did they know about her Sea King?

The sailor saw expression and laughed. "Why, ruler of the merpeople, lass. Thought every good sea girl knew about him!"

Just then the count's two hunting dogs, who had been brought on the voyage so they two could rejoice in the festivities, ran up to her, barking happily. Seras then leaned down to pet them, partly as an excuse not to give anything away with her face.

As she did, she heard the sailors above deck continue in the same cheerful melody as before:

I'll sing you a song of the king of the sea,

And it's 'hey' to the starboard, heave ho!

Several sailors splashed a bucket of sea water onto the deck and started swabbing it.

The ruler of all of the oceans is he,

In mysterious fathoms below.

Seras smiled and shook her head, for she knew better than any of them of the bottom of the sea.

Just then, Integra descended from the bow, straightening her cravat. "Hmph, merpeople," she sniffed, haughty and stuffy. "Seras, pay no attention to this nautical nonsense."

"But it ain't nonsense, it's the truth!" the stout old sailor exclaimed. "There's a whole world of merpeople under the sea!"

Lady Integra rolled her eyes. Just then, other sailors began to crowd around her.

"King Triton's their ruler!" one said, holding up a mop in front of his face like a beard.

"He's got seven fair daughters," a big, burly fellow winked suggestively,

Seras chuckled and shook her head again, for she knew it to be six. It was a common enough mistake, even under the sea.

Just then, a cackling old man's voice creaked, "And a witch of a sister named Zorin Blitz."

Seras' heart stopped, and her face drained of blood. All at once she remembered her dread and her sorrow, and her feet ached where she stood.

No one noticed, though, because all eyes turned to the old and respected sailor who'd spoken up. He was currently helping to pull fish out of a net and place them in a barrel, to be taken down to the galley to be cooked for the guests' luncheon. He was a very old, and tiny, and decrepit looking man with a white beard and a missing eye.

Lady Integra frowned. "Zorin Blitz," she scoffed.

Captain Bernadotte also frowned, and he took a deep drag of his cigarette. "Never heard that one before."

"Well, of course ye haven't, laddie. Ye haven't been sailing these seas as long as me."

Captain Berandotte snorted, but smirked. "If you say so, old coot."

"Ah! Half the sea is his brothers and sisters, captain. You know how Poseidon likes to get around," one of the men winked.

That was true, Seras thought. Poseidon got around so much he made his brother Zeus seem faithful by comparison. That's why his wife, Amphirite, currently lived with her son and granddaughters instead of her husband these last several centuries.

Integra scoffed again. "You learned gentlemen can't tell me you believe in… some witch named Sorin."

"Zorin Blitz, lassie," the old Scottish sailor said, "Evil and ugly, and hungry for power. King Triton, he banished her off into exile. And there she lives now, just biding her time."

He then began to sing, a very low and husky tune.

Fathoms below in the ocean,

Lives Zorin, Witch of the Sea

He then danced between Lady Integra, who stood up straight with her arms folded in disbelief, Captain Bernadotte, who stood smirking as he smoked his cigarette, and even Seras Victoria, who looked so pale and horror-struck it was a wonder she didn't faint.

She plots and she schemes and she wickedly dreams

Of the day when she'll return once more!

The rest of the sailors then joined into the chorus:

Return to rule the ocean floor!

The deck-swabbers then danced toward the trio as they swabbed, cheerfully singing:

She plots to be queen of the bottomless blue,

And it's 'hey' to the starboard, heave ho!

So Triton, beware there's a plan all a brew

In mysterious fathoms below!

"Gentlemen!" Lady Integra exclaimed, stopping them in their tracks. "I cannot believe that reasonable… modern gentlemen such as yourselves, in this age of science and enlightenment, can still believe in this old-fashioned… superstitious nonsense!"

The old Scottish sailor took grave offense to this and pointed a fish at her face. "Well, it ain't nonsense, it's the truth!"

Integra instantly turned green when she stared straight into the fish's cold, dead eyes.

The old man exclaimed passionately, "I'm telling you, down in the depths of the ocean they live below!"

His hand loosened on the fish, which flopped in her face, turning it a bright new shade of green. She turned back around to be sick of the starboard bow, as the fish flopped off too…

Down in mysterious fathoms below!

They all bellowed, and then they all laughed a good hardy laugh and slapped their knees.

Lady Integra, who was not having any of this, went to her room below deck to get over her sea sickness. Most of the other men went back to work on the ship, humming new tunes. They would have hell to pay from the Count later, but they considered it worth it.

Seras remained rooted to the spot, her head so light and her feet so heavy she wondered how she hadn't fainted yet.

The Sea Witch was… the Sea King's sister? And she yearned for power? How did these sailors know? They knew of Triton and his daughters and the merpeople he ruled. How could they…?

One of the sailors spotted her face and laughed, "Looks like she's seen a ghost, this one!"

Another one of the sailors stoutly patted her on the back. "Don't let the things he say scare ya, lassie. There ain't no witch under the sea."

Seras looked up at them curiously. "They're all just stories, lass. Stories and songs we sailors sing to each other to make the long voyages pass more interesting, like."

Seras was a little relieved and disappointed to learn that most of the sailors didn't really believe in merpeople or sea witches. They'd only pretended to annoy Lady Integra—all but the old, one-eyed Scottish sailor, who truly believed from the bottom of his heart. Most of the other men laughed him off, but good-naturedly so since he was so old and respected despite his kookiness.

"Don't you worry about it, lassie, there ain't no sea witch under the waves," one of the men winked, "An' even if there were, she can't reach you up here."

And they shuffled along with their work, leaving Seras to gaze at the sea foam that lapped up at the keel of the ship. Her heart pounded fearfully, and it felt like every beat was pressed in by knives, and her feet felt as though they stood on blades as she gazed at the watery foam.

'If only you knew,' she thought.

Seras eventually decided that it couldn't be true. The men had been mistaken about Triton and how many daughters he had, so they had to be mistaken about Zorin too. And even if they weren't, it had nothing to do with her. Even if Zorin was the Sea King's sister, it shouldn't be surprisingly since the Sea King's father had so many progeny it was impossible to keep track of them all—what was one more? And even if she did scheme for his crown, it was not as though she was going to try to use a former chamber maid to get it. Seras was just another one of her countless "poor unfortunate souls" that she had tormented and turned to a polyp or foam, Seras decided. That had to be it.

So why couldn't she untangle the knot in her belly?

Eventually the ladies and gentlemen recovered their "sea legs" enough to come up and about on deck. Most of them walked and chatted as though this was another amusing garden to stroll through, though most spent the bulk of the voyage below deck in their richly furbished cabins. Seras stayed on deck the whole time, hovering close to the starboard bulwark. She did not want to go down in the dark cabin, shut off from the sea and the sun and the breeze.

The sailors seemed to enjoy her company, and they often talked to her in a friendly manner as they went about their work. This was a great change from the men who used to mock and sneer at her at the Count's castle, and who once spooked her horse on purpose so she hit her head. The man who had done so even apologized for it, so what changed?

Sometimes they asked her to do little things for them, like fetch a bucket from the main cabin here or use her little journal to run a message there. Seras was happy enough to help out, as it kept her mind busy, though the captain was less amused.

"You know we have cabin boys to run these errands, right?"

"Aw! The girl likes helping out, don't you, lass?" one of the men grinned good-naturedly. "She'd make a good cabin girl, don't you think so, lassie?"

She grinned, and they considered the matter dropped. The Captain smiled sardonically, and let it slide.

It took a few days to reach Amsterdam, and Seras spent every moment she could above deck, where she could be a part of the action. She was the last to go to bed each night, till just about the first night watch, and she rose each morning just when the sun streamed in from her little round cabin window.

She enjoyed listening to the deep, low rumble of the men's conversations, and often grinned and nodded along as she heard them tell stories and sing songs.

The Captain spent time with her too, though it was not as much as the crew since he had more to do, and he told her stories of storms, of ships becalmed, of strange deep-sea fish, and of the wonders that divers have seen. She smiled at such stories, for no one knew about the bottom of the sea as well as she did.

He laughed. "What?" he challenged playfully, "You think you know more about the sea than we sailors?"

She grinned.

"All right then! Why don't you tell us all you know of the sea?"

If they meant to tease her about her muteness, she was unfazed.

Seras thought for a moment, and then used her hands to paint a picture. She cupped her hands together and had them bob up and down like a ship on the sea. She then held up a finger as though to say "But! One moment," and then had her hand dive under imaginary water, and had her whole arm swim around like a slithering sea serpent, far below the ship that still bobbed on the wavers. The sea serpent then moved upwards, and Seras brought both her hands together to act as giant tooth jaws, which opened wide around the now invisible ship and she clapped her hands together far above her head, to mime a giant sea monster springing far out of the water with the giant ship clamped tight between its jaws. She then brought her hands down in a giant splash, and mimed water spraying every which way, showing that the sea monster vanished between the waves.

The moral of the story was there were giant sea monsters and sea snakes far below the surface, big enough to devour whole ships and ripples the size of tidal waves if they wished.

The men laughed. "Looks like we've got a little sea expert on board, don't we, captain?"

"It'd make sense since you found her on sea. Eh, captain?"

He grinned sardonically. "Ja, ja."

"Maybe she's that mermaid you been tellin' everyone about."

Seras' heart stopped, and her face turned white. What mermaid?

One of the men laughed, "See? Even she thinks yer mermaid stories are crazy."

"All right, that's enough," Captain Bernadotte exclaimed in his captain voice, "Back to work, all of you."

But Seras couldn't forget the conversation. Something troubled her about it. She knew she should leave well enough alone, but she had to know.

One lazy afternoon she worked up the nerve to write the question in her journal, but when she handed it to the sailor he frowned and said he couldn't read. To her mortification he called, "Oy! Captain! The lassie here wrote me a note I need you to read."

Before she could shake her head or pull it back he pulled it out of the sailor's hand and read out loud, "Why do you always snicker and wink at each other when you mention mermaids around the captain?"

The whole deck burst out laughing; long and roaring loud. Seras felt mortified, and tried to hide her burning face in her hands.

The Captain smiled sardonically, "Don't worry, cher, this has nothing to do with you."

"It's because we all know he believes in mermaids," one huge, burly, stout man said. "A gypsy fortune-teller in Prague once said 'a mermaid will sing for thee.' "

"We all thought she was crazy," Captain Bernadotte said.

"And he said he saw a mermaid on a side of the ship, the night our ship was wrecked in the storm."

Seras' heart stopped. So he had seen her.

"I said I thought I saw someone looking in from the side of the ship that night," Captain Bernadotte said. "It could have just been the night playing tricks on me."

"Ay, or it coulda been a mermaid looking in from the bulwarks," they grinned.

"That same mermaid you claim saved your life when the ship went down."

"Of course it was a mermaid, laddies," the old Scottish sailor said. "You know as well as I that half you would have drowned had you not felt firm hands untangle you from sinking lines or pull you away from sinking debris as the ship went down."

"Lots of people hallucinate things as they die," one of the men said doubtfully.

"Not me, laddie, I saw her," the old sailor said. "Though it be dark and I be underwater, I saw by the flames of the sinking ship and the flash of lightning as she swam by. I still remember like it was yesterday. She was a buxom lass with short hair and the tail of a fish. I saw her dart through the water quick as an eel, she hovered above me for but a moment, and then she was gone."

"It coulda just been a seal, or a dolphin."

"What dolphin would swim through burning wreckage to save wrecked souls such as we?"

"Or swim up the river to get a look at your handsome mug, eh, captain?" one of the men grinned.

"Yeah, didn't you say you saw a mermaid of that description in the river a year later," they sneered.

So he had seen her then, Seras thought. The Sea King had said the humans by the castle had talked of seeing mermaids in the river near the castle, and after her run in with Captain Bernadotte that time in the river, she felt certain he had seen her.

"I said I saw a girl hide in the water, but I didn't see her come up," the captain said. "It's very likely I ran in on some bathing maiden and she swam away when she saw me, or she never existed at all."

"The way he described it, she looked a bit like you," one of the men told Seras.

"All right, that's enough," Bernadotte barked in his captain voice. "Do any of you men want to scrape barnacles off the keel of the ship with yer backs?"

"Nay, captain," they said sheepishly.

"Then get back to work!"

And that was all they said on the subject.

Seras was left to stand there, looking over the starboard bulwarks. Their words gave her a lot to think about, and dread over. So she had been seen, when she'd gone in to save the life of the Count when the ship sank. She'd saved every sailor she could along the way, but never stopped to make sure they were all right as she swam among them. She would untangle one here and pull one up there until they were free to swim for themselves, and she darted around them. She had thought it was too dark for any of them to have seen her, but apparently… she'd been mistaken.

She was afraid to look at Captain Bernadotte now; she waited till he was occupied with something else, and watched him timidly from the corner of her eyes. So he had seen her that night, when she first gazed on the Count. And now she knew he had seen her in the river when the hunting dogs ran up to her from the water. How she had hidden in a watery shrub to avoid him, and then darted past him under the water to avoid his gaze. How his discerning eye had searched the water for her for several moments, while she huddled down in the center of the river, afraid to move lest he see her, as she waited for him to go away.

But, if he had seen her… how could that be? She'd always been told that a human's gaze was agony to a mermaid. That when a human looked upon a mermaid and knew her for what she was, a mermaid felt as though their skin was being scorched and their blood was being boiled under their skin. If fishes cooked in the sun, then mermaids smoldered under a human's gaze. Being seen by humans and having them know them for what they were would bring nothing to a mermaid but a smoldering death.

This was why Seras had been so afraid to tell the Count what she really was, because she could not build a life with a man whose very gaze caused her intense agony every time he looked upon her.

Seras had always suspected that Captain Bernadotte… at least suspected her of being what she was, because it was very possible that he had seen her twice before she became human (on the side of the ship and in the river), and every time he looked at her she had felt intense discomfort. She had believed that discomfort came from him suspecting her of what she was, and it was part of why she did not like being around him for so long.

But, if he did know… and he did suspect her… and nothing bad was happening… had she been wrong? Did-did they lie to her about mermaids feeling intense agony from a human gaze? Had she carefully guarded her secret for nothing?

Seras thought this long into the night, as the guests went to sleep and most of the sailors went below deck "for some shut-eye" too. Seras declined to go to bed, and stayed up for a bit to keep the first watch company. He seemed to enjoy her company and pointed out several clusters of stars which he called "constellations," as well as the North Star that sailors used to help find their way home.

Eventually the moon rose, and he told her the light was so bright it hid most stars. That seemed about right, Seras thought as she remembered the Count's fondness for the moon. With nothing else to teach her, the first watch focused on steering the ship while Seras went to enjoy the night.

In the clear moonlight, when everyone except the man at the helm was asleep, she sat on the side of the ship gazing down at the dark water, and fancied she could catch glimpses of the sparkling Sea King's palace. Then Harkonnen and his stage girls rose to the surface. They looked at her sadly, and wrung their white hands.

"Seras… Seras Victoria…" they whispered in sweet, low, ghost-like voices from beneath the waves.

"We've heard what happened…"

"Schrodinger told us…"

"He said the count is to marry another…"

"He said the witch went back on her promise…"

"Is there anything we can do…?"

She smiled and waved, trying to let them know that all went well and that she was happy.

They looked at her sadly. "Liar!"

But along came the cabin boy, and her friends dived out of sight so quickly that the boy supposed the flash of white he had seen was merely foam on the sea.

Next morning the ship came in to the harbor of Amsterdam. It was a beautiful city port that seemed to float on the water, with docks that lined right up to the streets, with lovely Gothic buildings just on the other side of the streets. And, indeed, right on the water Captain Bernadotte helpfully pointed out the Basilica of St. Nicholas. It was indeed a grand cathedral whose steps seemed to disappear into the water.

As they pulled into port that early morning all the church bells chimed, and clock towers sounded from all the high towers, while the citizens lined up the streets with little market baskets and fashionable clothes.

Her dread returned as she descended the dock, and she became deaf and dumb to the world as she knew every proceeding second sped up her demise.

On the day of their wedding church bells rang out to announce the wedding. Within the cathedral rainbow light poured in from grand stain glass windows, and upon every altar sweet-scented oils burned in costly silver lamps. The priests swung their censers, the bride and the bridegroom joined their hands, and the bishop blessed their marriage.

The little mermaid, clothed in silk and cloth of gold, held the bride's train, but she was deaf to the wedding march and blind to the holy ritual. Her thought turned on her last night upon earth, and on all she had lost in this world.

She half-expected the siren Rip Van Winkle to burst in with an army of birds and sea creatures to stall the wedding, or to bring in her voice in a shell so that she herself could object to the vows. But no help came. For the first time, she felt how truly alone she was.

When the happy couple exchanged their vows and their kiss, she felt as though her heart was ran through with a sword. It was all over.

That same evening, the bride and bridegroom went aboard the ship. From within the ship, cannons thundered and banners waved. In the huge cabin at the stern of the ship, traditionally the captain's quarters, a honeymoon suit was set up with a great canopy bed draped in silk of purple and gold was up, and furnished with luxurious cushions. Here the wedded couple were to sleep on that calm, clear night. The sails swelled in the breeze, and the ship glided so lightly that it scarcely seemed to move over the quiet sea. All nightfall brightly colored lanterns were lighted, and the mariners merrily danced on the deck.

The little mermaid could not forget that first time she rose from the depths of the sea and looked on at such pomp and happiness. She had been so happy that first time she had gazed on them, and had wanted nothing more than to climb on deck so she could dance among them. Now her heart was too heavy and her feet were too pained to move.

A short, fat sailor then danced by while playing the accordion, and he noticed her standing off by herself.

"What'cha doin' standing' over thar by yerself, lassie?" the man cried. "Come! Join the celebration!"

"Yeah!" the rest of the crew cheered.

"Come on, lass!"

"It's not the same without you!"

"Come! Show these ladies how a real maid dances!"

Touched by their encouragement, Seras laughed and shed her sorrow like a shroud. If she was to die, she would die after having the best night of her life.

Light as a swallow pursued by his enemies, she joined in the whirling dance. Everyone cheered her, for never had she danced so wonderfully. She used her gliding fishy movements to her best advantage, and she glided and whirled so lightly she felt she could fly.

Her tender feet felt as if they were pierced by daggers, but she did not feel it. Her heart suffered far greater pain. She knew that this was the last evening that she ever would see him for whom she had forsaken her home and future, for whom she had sacrificed her lovely voice and suffered such constant torment, while he knew nothing of all these things. It was the last night that she would breathe the same air with him, or look upon deep waters or the star fields of the blue sky. A never-ending night, without thought and without dreams, awaited her who might not have a soul and could not get one.

She did not dwell on these thoughts though as too many men laughed and sang and cheered her on. All of her favorite sailor's songs played as happy dancers swayed to the melodies. Seras herself happily twirled through with many a partner, as most of the sailors took turns dancing with her. They danced lively, cheerful ditties that brought shining smiles from her face.

She bounded happily with an old sailor with all his teeth missing until the moment it was time to switch, and he exclaimed, "All yours, laddie!" and passed Seras off into his arms.

Seras blushed when she bumped into Captain Bernadotte's arms, but he grinned and led her into the dance.

Her heart swelled and her feet moved a little more lightly as she danced in his arms, and all over she hurt a little less. He never looked so handsome to her as he did that night, under the Chinese lanterns and fireworks of red and green and purple. He never seemed to smile more winningly at her; never held her waist so firmly as they danced, never regarded her so tenderly when the music called for her. She loved the light in his eye and his smile.

'I wish I'd loved you first,' she thought as the night wore on. 'I wish I'd seen from the beginning how kind and warm and loving you were, before I saw the Count. Before I…'

No, Seras thought as they changed partners. 'No, you were the first.'

Captain Bernadotte was the first human she had ever seen when she first boarded a human ship; but she had been so put off by how coarse, grizzled, and hang-dog he looked. He had been the first human to find her when she had washed up on shore with her new legs, but she had looked right past him hoping to see the Count. He did not look like the handsome men the sea princesses described when they came down from visits to the surface all those years, so her wandering eyes kept looking until she found the handsome Count, and she had fallen for his handsome face and graceful movements, rather than his good character.

'I'm so sorry,' Seras thought as she spun back into his arms. 'I should have known. I shouldn't have…'

He danced with her most of the night, and stared at her the rest of it. She danced with many partners, but could never forget where he was.

'You've always noticed me, haven't you?' she thought as she swung back into his arms. 'You were the one who noticed me when I looked in from the outside your ship; looking for a mermaid you knew was there. You saw me save your life beneath the waves, but I had merely wedged you loose and swam on. You saw me in the river when the hounds came barking. You found me washed up on the sand. You saw me…'

Her heart bubbled with so much grief that tears welled in her eyes. In her heart, she heard a sad reprisal to the song that had once driven her to seek brighter tides.

Far away I heard the call

Of the heart that sang a song like mine

She remembered all of the times he noticed she was sad, when others failed to notice or didn't care. All the times he came to see her when the rest of the world preferred to forget. Remembered when he had come to find her when she had run away from parties, and found her twice at the little sea goddess's shop. The sea goddess… who talked of love so deep it changes your smile…

Captain Bernadotte smiled that night as they danced together. A smile so radiant that she forgot the pain in her heart and step.

Its melody draws near

And suddenly we're in perfect harmony

'He loves me,' she thought, as she spun away through many parties. The poor fool always loved her, and she had been too busy mooning over the count to notice. Too busy mooning over a count who was too busy mooning over a girl he loved to notice her. She saw the way they danced, as if there was no one else in the world.

My schooldays are in the past now

My heart can be my only guide

And I must follow wherever it leads me

'How tragic and foolish we are,' she thought, as she smiled and spun back into his arms. He loved a girl who loved another, and she had loved a gentleman who had loved a lady. How much suffering could have been avoided if they had realized the one they loved was no good for them and moved on to another?

'But it's too late now,' Seras thought as her heart broke and her feet bled. 'I will die in the morning, and nothing will ever come of us. I'm so sorry, Captain Bernadotte. I wish I had… I hope you find happiness when I am gone.'

Wisdom only comes with time

The road to love is paved with broken hearts

The merrymaking lasted long after midnight, yet she laughed and danced on despite the thought of death she carried in her heart. The Count kissed his beautiful bride and she toyed with his coal-black hair. Eventually the music and dancing wound down, and guests began to bed, one by one. When the celebrations was all but ended, they nodded to each other. Hand in hand, they went to rest in the magnificent cabin.

Captain Bernadotte looked like he wanted to say something to her, but Seras avoided his gaze and wove through the sleepy crowd of guests as they made their way below deck to sleep. No, she didn't want to hear what he had to say. She would not be of this world for very long, and she did not want to hear more sad confessions that would make her approaching demise harder than it needed to be.

A hush came over the ship. Only the helmsman remained on deck as the little mermaid leaned her white arms on the bulwarks. Seras's heart throbbed, and she looked to the east to see the first light blue hint of daybreak, for she knew that the first flash of the sun would strike her dead.

'The wedding ceremony is over,' she thought, trying to keep herself calm. 'And soon it will be dawn…'

She brought her hands together as though in prayer, and tried to contain her trembling. She gazed out at the dark waters, hearing nothing but the creak of the ship as it floated on the water, the flap of the sails as they caught the wind, and the lap of the water as it splashed against the hull.

She tried to be steadfast and absolute, for the hour of her death was drawing near, and there would be no way to escape it. She could die crying like a child when the monsters came, or bravely and serenely like a young lady worth of a captain's love, even if she was not good enough for a count's heart. She had only one life on this earth, one death, and in this hour of truth she wanted it to be a dignified one.

My goal is near now,

And I must stake everything in my true destiny

No matter what the price…

In that darkest moment before dawn, her true character emerged.

Though she stood still, tears leaked out of her eyes.

'I don't want to die!' she thought desperately.

I don't want to die.