X

"Did you have a nice day, dear?" asked Carlotta as she helped Ariel get ready for bed.

Ariel nodded. A soft, content smile had lingered on her face ever since Eric said goodnight to her.

"Good. The prince seems to love spending time with you. He's done little else these past few days."

It was true. After he had shown her around his kingdom for the first time, Eric and Ariel had spent more and more time together, until they were almost inseparable by day. And the more Ariel learned about the prince and the people on land, the happier she grew.

So happy, in fact, that she almost didn't remember or care that she couldn't speak. It was remarkable how easily she could talk to him just by nodding and gesturing. And once she had decided not to tell Eric who she was, it only made everything easier.

"I think he must be very fond of you, if you don't mind me saying."

Ariel shook her head to say, 'I don't mind at all.'

And Carlotta was right: Eric seemed to like Ariel just the way she was. But then each night she would hear him, down in the garden, playing that strange human instrument. And amazingly, he would play the tune of her song, the song she had sung when she rescued him.

"There you are, dear. Now, is there anything else you need?"

Ariel stood there in her nightdress and shook her head. Carlotta said goodnight and left the room, only leaving the bedside candle lit.

Once the maid was gone, Ariel stepped lightly to her bedside table and picked up the fork Eric had given her. She danced over to the mirror with it and idly brushed her hair, gently swaying from side to side as she did.

Her eyes wandered to the window as she brushed, looking down into the garden. As usual, Eric was sat near the wall overlooking the beach. But he wasn't playing his instrument. He was thinking.

Still brushing her hair, Ariel stepped closer to the window and looked curiously down at him. She slowly opened the window up, put down her fork, and leaned on the windowsill. The cool evening breeze stroked her face and she breathed it in, smelling the salty sea air.

Sometimes she missed it. Being a mermaid, living under the sea. If only there was a way to be both, she often thought. But then she remembered to be glad she could choose either. She couldn't have both, she couldn't have everything, so she had to choose. Hopefully, she had made the right choice.

The first note from Eric's flute snapped her out of her relaxed gaze. She watched closely as Eric began to play that same song, looking far out to sea as he did. It was only at these moments, at night, when Ariel wondered if she should try to tell him after all. But then, the next morning, he didn't seem to think about his rescuer at all, and Ariel would almost think she knew what he wanted. It seemed like he was one person then and someone different now.

Not that I'm one to talk.

Suddenly, Eric stopped playing halfway through the song, and backed away from the garden wall. He held the instrument in one hand and looked at his feet. Ariel peered closer through the darkness. As she watched, he gripped the silver thing in his hand, ran forward and threw it with all his might. Ariel's mouth fell open as it twirled through the air, out of sight and into the water with a faint splash. Eric turned from the sea and strode off through the garden without looking back.

Ariel backed away from the window with her hands over her mouth. They soon fell away as a delighted grin spread over her face. Once again, she would have laughed with joy if she had a voice. Instead she twirled on the spot and dove backwards onto the bed. She let out a long, silent sigh of relief.

He loves me. I knew it!

She wondered what he would say to her the next day, what he would do the next time he saw her. Closing her eyes, Ariel imagined him holding her in his arms again, just like before. She imagined looking up into his sky-blue eyes again, but this time hearing him say, "I love you, Ariel."

And as she imagined her reply, dreamed of hearing her own voice say it, the words slipped silently from her own mouth.

I love you, Eric.

XI

Ursula threw her head back and laughed in Ariel's voice.

I can't stand it. This is just too easy.

The redhead was already in love. Ursula continued to stare hungrily at the girl in the floating bubble.

You poor soul. You poor, unfortunate soul.

The daughter of Triton disappeared once again as the sea witch's bubble dropped into the water. Ursula turned, and a puff of purple smoke once again changed her tentacles to legs and a black dress.

Clutching her necklace, she began walking along the beach towards the castle. As she walked she held out her hand, and was suddenly holding the prince's silver flute. She let out one more laugh, and the voice rang through the night air like a bell.

Sorry, Ariel, but a deal is a deal.

XII

"Good morning, Mr Collin."

"Oh, good morning, Mr Gold," said the man behind the fish stall.

It was a windy day on the docks; Gold brushed a few strands of hair out of his face and smiled at the prince. In the land of fairy tales, he was Prince Eric, but here he was known as Edward Collin the fishmonger.

"Let me guess, is it a haddock again?" Edward said with a grin.

"Right you are," said Gold, nodding and leaning on his walking stick. "Business going well?" he asked.

"Yeah, it's great. Couldn't be better. Hey, did you see the clock tower's working again?"

"Oh yes, I did. Very strange indeed," said Gold, paying for his haddock and taking the bag. "Not that you have much need for the time, it seems. Every time I visit the docks, I see you here."

"Oh, I love it here. The salty sea air, the wind blowing in your face. It's perfect."

"Not much spare time though, I expect," said Gold with concern. "Your girlfriend must miss you."

Edward's beaming face fell a little bit.

"Uh, I don't have a girlfriend, Mr Gold."

"Oh, I find that very hard to believe, strapping lad like you. There must be someone."

Edward smiled, embarrassed, and looked down for a moment.

"Well," he said, "I'm sure the right girl is out there somewhere. I just haven't found her yet."

"Perhaps you haven't been looking hard enough," said Mr Gold thoughtfully.

"Oh, when I find her, I'll know," said Edward confidently.

"You seem awfully sure," said Gold, tilting his head.

"Yeah, without a doubt."

Gold brushed more windswept hair from his face.

"Well, be careful, Mr Collin. Love is a tricky thing," he said sagely, looking out at the harbour. "You see, we don't choose who we love. It chooses for us. Our choice is what to do about it. Now, that – that is the tricky part."

Edward raised his eyebrows and stared.

"Uh, I'm guessing it chose for you, then, Mr Gold?"

Gold looked back at Edward.

"Yes. There was someone, someone I didn't expect to fall for," he said, looking down at his feet. "But she's gone now."

"Well, maybe someday she'll come back," said Edward with an encouraging smile.

Gold looked from the fish in his hand, back to the fishmonger, and smirked.

"Maybe."

XIII

Eric climbed the stairs as fast as he could, heading for his bedchamber before he could change his mind.

Father's right. I can't wait forever for a dream girl.

Even if she was real, maybe his rescuer was just that: a rescuer. It didn't mean he needed to marry her if she wasn't even interested in speaking to him.

But the words she sang to me. She wanted to stay with me. So why didn't she?

Eric shook his head and walked briskly along to his room. Clearly he'd misheard the words, or imagined them, or she was lying. Either way, there was nobody out there waiting to be with him.

Well, maybe not nobody …

Entering his room, Eric shut the door behind him, leaned against it and closed his eyes.

If only she could talk. Then I might know what's going through her head. I still don't even know her name, where she's from, who she is, nothing.

And yet she was still so warm and caring, and sweet and curious, and interesting and funny, and fair and beautiful. How could someone be so many things without speaking? How could a stranger make him so happy?

Eric let out a frustrated groan and crossed to the balcony. Maybe that was the thing – maybe she wasn't a stranger, not really. True, in his head Eric didn't know much about the silent girl. But looking into those ocean-blue eyes, it felt like remembering someone he knew better than anyone. Sometimes it was like talking to himself, and not just because she didn't speak.

But what do I say to her?

He backed away from the balcony and dropped onto his bed, rubbing his eyes as if to get water out of them. He ran his hands through his hair and scratched his head. Whatever he would say, he would probably have to say it tomorrow. Like Father said, decisions have a time limit and a price.

A loud knock on the door made Eric jump. He stood up and approached the rapid knocking and the sound of his name.

"Eric! Open up, it's me! Open up!"

It was his father. Eric opened the door and the king stepped quickly into the room looking excited and shocked at the same time.

"Eric, she's here," he said.

"Who is?" said Eric.

"The mystery girl, the girl you've been talking about. She's here."

Eric's eyes widened and he stepped back.

"Really? How? Where did she come from?"

"From the beach. She just appeared and said she's the one who rescued you."

"And is she?"

"Well, come and see for yourself. You didn't tell anyone else about this mystery maiden, did you?"

"Well … not many. Let's go. Where is she?" said Eric.

"In the dining hall, waiting for you."

The king led Eric out of the room and down the corridor.

"You were right, Eric. If she's telling the truth, that is. I'm sorry for doubting you, son."

"It's okay, Father. I was beginning to doubt it too."

"What will you say to her?"

"I don't know. I guess we'll see, won't we?"

They made their way to the dining hall and stopped outside the doors.

"She's inside. I trust you'll know if she's telling the truth?"

"I will," said Eric, straightening up. "I'll come back and tell you if she isn't."

"You mean you want to be alone with her?"

"I think so, Father. This is something I need to do on my own."

"Very well. Good luck then, Eric. And be careful."

Eric nodded, turned to the doors and paused. There was no flute in his pocket now, it was just him and his memories. He pushed open the doors and stepped inside.

The dining hall was dimly lit with torches along three walls. But she was stood in front of the windows, a dark figure against the moonlight, looking out to sea.

As Eric approached, she turned her head of dark, wet hair and looked at him. Her eyes were a deep blue – it may have been Eric's imagination, but they almost looked purple – and she had a pretty face. She wore a long black dress and a necklace with a shell pendant.

"Uh, hi," he said nervously, and she smiled.

"Hello, Your Highness," she said. Eric thought he recognised her voice.

"Please, call me Eric."

"Okay," she said. "Hello, Eric." She was holding something behind her back, and Eric remained cautious.

"Are you the one? The one I've been looking for?"

"The one who saved you from the shipwreck? Yes, I am."

Her voice rang inside his head. With every word she said, the memory became clearer and clearer in his mind. But now, when she spoke, something was different.

"Where have you been? Who are you?"

"I've been waiting for the right moment. My name is Vanessa."

Her tone was lower than he expected. The voice was there, but the sweetness he remembered wasn't. Perhaps he had remembered it wrong all this time, or perhaps it was just different when she sang.

"Vanessa, I need to thank you for what you did. You saved my life."

"You're welcome, Eric," she said, stepping closer and looking him in the eye. "It's the least I could do for someone so handsome."

Eric smiled uncomfortably.

"You say you waited for the right moment. What was the right moment?"

Vanessa's smile widened, though it still didn't reach her eyes.

"The moment you gave me this."

She withdrew the thing she was hiding behind her back. Eric braced himself for a moment until he saw it.

"How did – how did you – but that's my flute."

"Yes, it is," said Vanessa, waving the silver thing in her hand. "I heard you playing it, such beautiful music. This flute played my song – our song. It holds our music, and when you gave it back, it was time for me to give it to you again."

She handed the flute to him and he took it, his fingers closing tightly around the cold metal.

"But I didn't give it back. I threw it into the water. How did you find it?"

"The same way I found you when you were thrown into the water. The sea is a part of me, a part of both of us, is it not?"

Eric looked carefully down at the flute, then back at Vanessa.

"Yes, it is."

He lifted the flute to his lips, and began to play the melody again, picking up where he had left off in the garden. The music came back to him, the memory on the beach moving his fingers. His eyes connected with hers, inviting her to sing. The woman took a deep breath and joined in.

"Where would we walk? Where would we run?

If we could stay all day in the sun."

It was almost exactly as he remembered. Almost the same voice, almost identical singing. Almost the same girl.

"Just you and me.

And I could be part of your world."

Eric stopped playing and silence fell throughout the hall. The only thing he could hear was the rushing waves lapping on the shore outside.

There was no denying it. This was his rescuer, the one he had been waiting for. The one he had thought of and played for every night, the one whose voice had lingered in his dreams, the one he owed his life.

Eric remembered what his father said.

"We all have to make tough decisions, but they always have a time limit and a price."

And he was right, but what was Eric's price for this? The sweet silent girl? He couldn't be with her and with Vanessa. He couldn't have both, he couldn't have everything, so he had to choose. And he knew what his time limit was. This woman had disappeared before, and he couldn't help thinking she may do it again. This was his only chance.

"Vanessa," he said. He put the flute in his pocket and took her hand. "I don't know many ways to repay you. I owe you my life, and for that I'm forever in your debt. So, if you'd be willing …" He got down on one knee, and the flute dug into his leg again. "… I would like to spend it with you." Ignoring the pain that the flute gave him, he looked up into her calm, smiling face, summoned up his courage and forced the words out. "Vanessa, will you marry me?"

She raised her eyebrows, and her other hand touched her necklace. She gripped the shell tight as she breathed in.

"Yes, Eric." The chime of her voice echoed around the hall. "I will marry you."