Chapter 20: March of Time

The pitch of the Master's cavernous lair was even darker than usual, the lights of the white torches smothered by his foul mood. He stood over the inky pool, arms spread wide as his magic permeated the air. The blue lights of his eyes never left the liquid mirror surface, the colors a swirling canvas of black, blue, and purple that cast an eerie violet luminescence over him. The light only served to make his appearance more sinister than usual.

Aggravation was a rare sentiment for the Master. It took much to faze him, in part because he cared for so little, what he desired was rarely beyond his grasp, and he rarely encountered an obstacle he could not overcome if not outright obliterate. He found it more effective to destroy a wall than to go around or over it. That way, the wall never got in his way again, and its demise served as a warning to all other walls that would dare try to impede him.

Yet aggravated he was, for he had encountered a wall that would not crumble so easily.

Three weeks. That was how long the Master had searched for the meddling fire sorcerer that interfered with Morgana's failed assassination. It should have been a short hunt considering the magnitude of his powers. His vision reached far and wide. He searched through the Alliance and beyond to the distant limits of his sight as he inspected every possible hideaway the mage could be using. He felt for any trace of magic left by the burning interloper.

He found nothing. Not so much as a speck of ash. The only magic he found in all the Alliance amounted to a few individuals with minute latent powers, the spells surrounding the mermaid princesses and their queen sister, the impressively large power residing in Lara Anclagon, and the enormous power contained within the trident. But this sorcerer, whoever he was, left no sign of himself. It was as though he only existed in the brief moment when he drove out Morgana then vanished into thin air along with William's body.

The Master clenched his hands, his anger causing the shadows to corrode the light further. This sorcerer was no ordinary mage. No run of the mill magic could break the spell Morgana used on William, much less evade himself. Yet this sorcerer did so without leaving the slightest hint of its presence. Only a mage of the highest class could accomplish that. This was someone at a level of magic few could hope to attain.

And just what did the sorcerer do to Princess Melody? The Master could not get a spell near that girl anymore. It was not that a barrier surrounded her, or that the mage was actively protecting her. Rather, she simply did not exist as far as his magic was concerned. He could see her, and hear her, and find her with ease. But all spells sloughed off her like water around a rock. It was as though she were an illusion, possessing a visible form without any tangible substance to interact with.

The Master lowered his arms, the pool returning to its shadowed state as he withdrew his powers. This fruitless search was getting him nowhere. If he had not discovered anything by now it was likely he never would. As much as he hated admitting defeat, it was time for a shift in tactics. If he could not find the sorcerer, then he would have to wait till he revealed himself again.

The sound of splashing drew his attention. He listened closely, picking out the sloshing of something moving across the water's surface, the noise broken by a rhythmic splashing.

Oars. Someone was rowing a boat.

The Master's eyes brightened and he looked in the direction of the noise. A trail of light appeared as the torches on the columns sprang to life, each one lighting in sequence to form a line of white stars in the darkness.

A small wooden rowboat appeared in the gloom. At its helm stood Remora, her gold mask reflecting the torchlight. She wore her dark blue robe as usual, braided hair draped across her shoulder down to her ankles. Behind her sat a thin figure in a tattered brown cloak with a carved bone clasp, the hood pulled well over its face. A large bundle in a burlap sack lay in the bottom of the boat. There was no one manning the metal oars, for they rowed of their own accord. The boat moved quickly towards the platform, the wake breaking the stillness of the water's surface.

"You have returned," said the Master.

"Apologies for the intrusion, Master," called Remora as they approached. She flicked her hand at the oars, and they gave a forceful stroke in reverse, slowing the craft so it came to a smooth stop alongside the platform. She flicked her hand again and the oars lifted out of the water and placed themselves neatly in the boat.

"On the contrary, Remora," said the Master as he strode towards her. "Your interruption is well-timed. I see Richard is not with you."

"Fortunate for him," growled Remora as she disembarked, the craft barely wobbling under her steps. "I was about ready to chop him up."

"Issues?" asked the Master, folding his arms behind his back.

Remora gave a derisive snort. "Arrogant. Overconfident. Brash. And doesn't take orders from women. Not till he's got a blade buried in his thigh, that is. This hunt took longer than it should've thanks to the stunts he tried in Strihaven. Little bastard's lucky I needed him intact, otherwise I'd have ripped his limbs off." She nodded to her passenger. "Or let this do it for me."

"I see." The Master turned his attention to the figure in the boat. If it was aware or interested in his presence it gave no outward indication. "You were successful, then?"

Remora nodded. "Richard's only saving grace. It took us a while, but he sniffed it out."

"Where?"

"A slaver caravan southeast of Strihaven. It's stronger than it looks. Killed more than a dozen men before I had to step in. The rest was just a matter of persuasion." She turned back to the figure. "You. Off."

The figure rose and stepped onto the platform, causing the faintest of disturbances to the boat. It walked with total silence, stopping in front of the Master. It was a full head shorter than him and unnaturally thin. The brown cloak hung around it like a sheet over a hat stand. It breathed with a raspy hiss.

The Master looked the figure over. "Your species lives up to its reputation. Few can give Remora the slip or slay so many of her men."

"Few know of our existence," said the figure, its voice deep and masculine. "We make a point of not being seen and silencing those who do. You are well informed, warlock."

"I make a point to be."

The figure chuckled dryly. "Why have I been brought here?"

"I have a job for you. One suited to your unique skill-set," said the Master.

The figure's head cocked to the side, its voice suddenly feminine and meek like a small girl. "As I have heard. Though, your subordinate here has been silent on the nature of this 'job' you are offering."

"My job was to find you, not fill you in," said Remora snappily. "Just be glad you didn't refuse me."

The figure's head cocked to the opposite side at a severe angle. When it spoke again its voice was a perfect copy of Remora's. "I find it hard to say no with a blade at my throat."

Remora stiffened, thrown off by the figure's mimicry. Even the Master felt a mild sense of impressed surprise. He would have been fooled by the imitation had Remora not been before him. That and the smell of blood was stronger from her.

"So long as the reward is adequate, the details and threats are irrelevant," added the figure.

The Master snapped his fingers. A black tendril rose out of the pool and slithered over to the trio, coming to a stop in front of the figure. There was a small "ting" as a single gold coin fell out of the tendril. Then another. And another. The coins came quickly, falling to the floor until a sizable pile had formed. The tendril then retreated into the pool, releasing one last coin onto the stones. It reappeared and flicked the coin into the pile before disappearing once more.

"Will this suffice?" asked the Master.

The figure bent low over the coins as though hinged at the hip. It sniffed them audibly, trying to detect any subterfuge by scent alone. Suddenly a sinuous red tongue shot out and snatched one of the coins, pulling it under the hood as it straightened up. Sharp teeth chomping on metal were heard as it rolled the coin in its jaws. Then it spat the coin into the pile, now coated in sticky saliva and its surface dented by teeth marks.

"Indeed," said the figure in a tired elderly voice. "This will be more than enough for one monkey."

"Good." The Master turned back to the pool. "Before I give you the particulars of this job, I require a demonstration of your skills. I need more than myths and rumors to vouch for your kind's reputation."

"It will cost you," said the figure's nasally male voice.

"Fifty more coins," said Remora flatly. Her tone made it clear the price was not negotiable.

The figure was silent as it mulled over her offer. "Done."

The Master turned to Remora. "Fetch one of the–."

The witch was already walking to the boat. Her balance was perfect as it rocked and rolled underneath her, leaning down to grasp the burlap sack.

"I figured you'd want a demonstration, sir." Remora roughly tossed the sack onto the platform. It landed twenty feet from the Master and their guest, hitting with a heavy smack and a pained groan. "So I took the liberty of bringing one."

Remora swung her arm at the sack. A dozen shards of sharp metal flew from her sleeve for it. They swarmed past the sack like bladed hornets, slashing the burlap to pieces before embedding into the floor. Soon the fabric was in shreds, revealing the contents of the sack.

A young man lay on the stone. His shirt and pants were barely rags, and his short blonde hair was greasy and tangled. His hands were bound behind his back and ankles tied together with rough rope. A skull with an anchor clutched in its teeth was tattooed on his right bicep. A dirty strip of fabric gagged his mouth. Dried blood clung to his forehead, and he had several cuts over his body where Remora's shards "accidentally" slashed him. His wide blue eyes swiveled about wildly, trying to make sense of his new surroundings. His eyes settled on the two robed figures, widening further as he recognized Master. He started wriggling away from them.

"Who is he?" asked the Master. "He does not appear to be one of the slaves. Or one of your crew."

"He's not," said Remora as her shards returned to her. "This cretin's one of the pirates who thought he could turn down our offer. He changed his mind after I gutted his captain, but seems that wasn't enough to keep him in line. He's been talking mutiny, so I had my men bring him in."

"Duly noted. Now…" The Master turned to the figure. "Impress me."

The figure nodded and walked towards the man. Garbled whimpers and pleas came from his mouth as he tried to squirm away with all haste.

Suddenly the figure darted to the helpless man with such speed it became a blur, coming to an abrupt stop in front him. A hand flashed out and snatched the gag off his mouth before retreating under the cloak. The man froze in place, alarmed by the figure's unnatural agility. He trembled violently as it leaned over him, terror silencing his voice.

Something stirred under the figure's cloak. Then a long skeletal finger pushed against the clasp of its cloak, releasing it with a loud click. An emaciated pale arm reached up and grabbed the hood, ripping the cloak free.

The cavern was filled with the pirate's bloodcurdling screams of horror as the figure set to work. From the corner of his eye the Master saw Remora shiver with delight, arms trembling in excitement as she watched.


"Nine fifty-seven…nine fifty-eight…nine fifty-nine…"

Melody curled up under her covers against the early morning chill. Slowly she opened her eyes. It was morning again, a couple hours past sunrise if the light was any indication. She sat upright, yawning as she rubbed the sleeping sand from her eyes.

"Nine sixty-four…nine sixty-five…nine sixty-six…nine sixty-seven…"

The princess groaned grumpily, blinking her vision into focus as she looked to her balcony. Lara was on the railing doing handstand dips. She wore her usual skin baring attire, today a tight bright red halter top and loose gray pants ripped off just above the ankle, the tattered hems bunched up around her knees from gravity. Her brunette hair was in a single long braid that just pooled on the balcony floor as she lowered herself. Her metal weights were strapped around her calves, adding the needed resistance to exercise her powerful muscles. Her sword rested against the railing within easy reach, her knives somehow staying within their sheaths on her lower back.

"Nine seventy-two…nine seventy-three…" she grunted, the muscles from her arms to her back flexing as she rose and fell. A bead of sweat fell from the tip of her nose, her teeth set as she forced herself through the motions with control. "Nine seventy-four…nine seventy-five…"

Melody frowned, burying her face back in the pillow and pulling the covers over her head as Lara kept counting.

Three weeks had passed since the confrontation between Lara and Grimsby in the ballroom. The mermaid princesses and their families had settled into their temporary home. All were able to walk effectively now, although some better than others. The adults found new interests to occupy their time, from the immense royal library to painting, music, or just enjoying the sights, sounds, and experiences the world above the waves had to offer. The younger children found their own ways to entertain themselves, learning human children's games or having adventures in the palace while their older siblings and cousins joined in or found other things to pass the days with. Life had not returned to how it once was, but what was once new had become comfortably familiar.

For Melody, this annoyingly included Lara Anclagon.

Contrary to what Melody secretly hoped for, Ariel and Eric did not dismiss Lara for her brazen actions against Grimsby and Alana. They did, however, give her a severe tongue lashing. They saddled her with a hundred hours of work and made her swear not to manhandle anyone else. She would do her work while Melody was at her lessons or otherwise occupied, during which time a dozen guards would fill in for her presence. She would not be allowed to visit with the orphans until the work was done either. Lara accepted it all in silence save the occasional "yes" or "no" when a question was asked of her.

Oh, and Ariel promised to quadruple the workload if she caused a repeat incident. And make her wear the frilliest, tightest, girliest dress possible while doing it. Somehow, that was more of a threat to Lara than any legal repercussion.

True to her word, Lara completed the punishment without complaint. But punishment was not the word Melody would use to describe it. She had a sneaking suspicion Ariel used it as an excuse to familiarize the palace staff with the young woman. Lara worked just about everywhere in every task imaginable within the palace grounds. She mucked the stables, groomed horses, worked in the kitchens, ran errands into town, tended the gardens, washed laundry, dusted rooms, scrubbed floors, cleaned windows, chopped firewood–if Melody could name it, Lara had probably done it.

There were a few hiccups at the start. Tracking dirt into a room Carlotta just cleaned earned Lara a lecture. One of the maids also fainted when Lara came up behind her, though it was only to ask for direction to the linens room. And she got a bit overzealous with the pruning shears. Not everyone was thrilled about having her help either, given her unorthodox garb and mannerisms for someone of her gender. Most were put-off it not outright intimidated by her. But their suspicions were quickly laid to rest by a combination of Ariel's assurances and Lara's effort.

Lara did not just do the work. She threw herself into it completely. It seemed that wherever she labored more was accomplished than normal. More rooms were cleaned. More laundry was washed and folded. More weeds were removed, and more flowers were planted. More horses were brushed, and more stalls were mucked. More errands got done. Carlotta and Louis in particular had taken a liking to her. The head maid was delighted by how quickly yet efficiently Lara worked. Her strength was a boon for the more arduous tasks. Sweeping under beds was much easier when you had someone that could lift the whole frame with one arm. Louis was impressed by her ease and dexterity with knives while cutting up ingredients and was always eager to have her sample his creations. Together they refined the "firecracker soup" into a dish that would be most welcome in the cooler winter season, though the initial heat shock would take some getting used to. They had developed a game where Lara would try to guess all the ingredients Louis used in a dish, which Louis was currently winning by a narrow margin.

By the time Lara finished her hundred hours she had become quite popular with the help. No longer was she eyed with suspicion or greeted by a step back or trepidatious glances, but with warm smiles and friendliness which she returned. She had effectively been accepted by the staff as a new aspect of life in the palace.

"Nine eighty-four…nine eighty-five…nine eighty-six…" Lara continued.

Melody pulled her covers low enough to peer over with one eye. If there was one thing she found stranger than Lara's appearance and personality, it was her body. The last three weeks made the depths of her physical abilities increasingly apparent. Lara was absurdly strong, and no less fast, flexible, or durable. These workouts she did were routine, as were their incredibly high counts and perceived difficulty. If she did pull ups or push ups it was with one arm and while loaded with those metal rods from the tournament. They were just as heavy as Melody imagined. If Lara ran it was at breakneck speed and with no shortage of obstacles in her way. She ran around the palace so many times her feet had started to form a trail. Suffice to say none of the guards had been brave enough to take up Lara's request for a sparring partner. Not after a pair of them observed her practicing with her sword on the garden lawn, describing her blade as "cutting the wind down" as she swung it.

It was not just her strength that was physically bizarre for a human. Her very biology seemed supernatural. Lara slept lightly during the day, remaining awake all night despite appearing to do the opposite. Yet she was never drowsy or mentally dulled as one would expect from such an apparent lack of rest. She saw, heard, and smelt things no one else noticed, not to mention her acutely tuned instincts. She took some sort of medicine every day from her pack, almost always before she went to sleep. And her appetite was immense! How anyone could eat so much Melody had no idea. Sharks were less gluttonous than Lara was. Usually she ate no more than anyone else. However, sometimes she would become a bottomless pit, usually after a heavy workout. If the food kept coming then she kept eating, yet never becoming bloated or weighed down by her intake. The record so far was nine full course servings (much to Louis' delight, as he enjoyed seeing his cuisine so thoroughly savored). Alcohol did nothing to her either, as evidenced when she downed six mugs of ale during a drinking match with Aquata's husband. She ended up with a loud belch, and he ended up with a massive headache and aversion to sunlight the next day. Apparently, hangovers were not a thing in Atlantica. Neither was alcohol, for that matter.

Though Lara's integration with palace life had smoothed out considerably, there were still bumps in the road. She and Alana had apologized, but clearly it was just words. They had not spoken a word to each other since. The most interaction they had consisted of seeing one another, and Alana giving a dismissive "humph" while Lara pretended she was not there. As for Grimsby, Lara started calling him "your eminence" and bowing irksomely low to him whenever they crossed paths, and using overdone eloquence whenever she spoke to him. This went on for about a week until Ariel asked her to stop, which she did. To their credit, Grimsby and Lara were at least civil with each other after that, although neither was willing to let go of their mutual grudge.

Attina, Arista, and Adella were in the same boat as well. Attina thought Ariel had been far too soft on the woman, insisting Lara would have been imprisoned if she displayed such behavior in Atlantica. She regarded Lara with great suspicion, keeping their interactions as succinct and formal as possible. Adella and Arista simply did not trust her. It showed in how they interacted with her, always briefly and with an air of nervous anticipation, as though she might suddenly spring at them like a great white shark after a seal. Neither Attina or Adella were willing to let their children near Lara, either. They always had some excuse to usher them out of the room when she appeared. There was no doubt Lara noticed it, but she made no complaints.

Aquata and Andrina, however, were a different story. Aquata had always been the athlete and "hard shell" of the sisters. Sea-sports were a significant part of her life growing up, and her direct yet playful personality worked well with Lara's own. She admired Lara's physical ability, especially her skill with a sword. On one occasion Melody stumbled across her aunt wielding a folded parasol like a sword in the privacy of her room. When Melody asked what she was doing, Aquata immediately denied trying to imitate Lara's movements despite no suggestion from her niece that she was.

Andrina, while not an athlete, found common ground with Lara in their quick wits and enjoyment of a good laugh. Especially when it came from someone else's antics, like Adella spilling tea on herself because Aquata's youngest daughter Anja snapped a book shut behind her, or when Aquata revealed that Attina used to snore loud enough to be heard clear on the other side of the palace (which she still denied vehemently). It did not take long for the fourth oldest and second youngest sisters to make friends with Lara.

Melody's cousins also took a liking to Lara, especially the younger ones. The arrangement for the orphans to visit the palace proved a boon to them, as it gave them new friends and a cure for boredom, not to mention practice with their new legs. It was decided the orphans would visit in small groups instead of all at once, though Jenni insisted on being part of as many as she could. The little girl found a particularly great deal of fun with Andrina's twins Cora and Nora, as well as many of the other mer-children. The bokken always came with her, and Lara had started showing her some basic drills she could practice despite the wood sword being too large and cumbersome for her tiny hands.

True to her word, Lara had new stories every time the children visited, drawing on a seemingly endless supply of mythical tales and legends as well as her own supposed experiences. The children would gather around with eyes brimming with awe and wonder as she narrated, manipulating her voice for different characters and acting out scenes. She was certainly a good storyteller, sometimes using her sword for dramatic effect. They always ended with pleas for more, only for Lara to promise a new one on their next visit. Even Melody found herself grudgingly wrapped up in the stories as they kindled her thirst for adventure and sense of imagination.

But if Lara's part in this world called Seahaven had expanded in the last three weeks, Melody's share had only grown smaller.

If there was a silver lining Melody could glean from Triton sending her aunts, uncles, and cousins to stay with them, it was that her family was closer than ever before. All she had to do was take a brief walk to find one of them. Unfortunately, she found herself too preoccupied with all the lessons and other duties she skipped during her crippling depression to take full advantage of it. Much of the past weeks had been spent with her tutors or in the library, accompanied by the guards as Lara went off to serve her sentence. Truth be told, sometimes she felt Lara saw more of her family than she did.

Though she was no longer restricted to the palace, she was not completely free either. She was restricted to no further than an arrow's flight from shore, and could not use her locket in Lara's presence, which amounted to never. Swimming in the ocean was wonderful and all, but without fins it was not the same. Nor was there as much to see with such a limitation to how far out she could go. She felt like a bird forbidden from using its wings. On land she was free to go where she wished so long as she was accompanied by her bladed brunette bodyguard. She was not finding much time or reason to do so though.

But if there was one thing occupying the majority of Melody's thoughts, it was the absence of her friends.

Since her birthday all travel between Atlantica and Seahaven had been restricted to urgent matters only. While Tip and Dash had come to see her, though not as often as she would like, her other undersea friends had been absent. She would have to swim or sail to Atlantica in order to see them, and that was now as likely as the ocean drying up. As for her terrestrial friends, they were absent altogether. During the worst of her grief she had not responded to their letters and turned away their visits, too sorrowful to face them. Now their places had been switched, as though this was some form of childish "let's see how you like it" vengeance. She had correspondence with them through letters, but all efforts to meet with them were waylaid by one form of interference or another. They were glad she was starting to feel better, and hoped to see her soon, but then came one excuse after another. Schooling, illness, familial responsibilities, visiting friends, relatives from afar, prior arrangements–for every request there was a reason they could not see her. And it hurt. Melody could understand if they were busy, but it did nothing to dull the sting of abandonment when she wanted their companionship.

"Nine ninety-eight…nine ninety-nine…one thousand!"

Melody quickly pulled the covers back over her head as Lara flipped down, landing with a clatter of metal from the weights attached to her legs. She held her breath as she heard Lara start to remove the rods, her breathing slightly labored.

"Woo! Now that's a burn! Gonna need a big breakfast after that!" The rods clinked together as she walked over to the window seat, setting them beside her pack. "Hey princess, you can stop pretending to be asleep. I heard you wake up a while ago."

Melody flinched, for a moment considering lying still and trying to maintain the ruse. Then she pulled her covers aside and sat up, swinging her feet off the side of the bed. "Do you have to do that here?"

"No. I could do it next to your bed if that's better," said Lara dryly. "Or on a chair. Or on the roof."

Melody frowned as she went to her vanity table and began brushing her hair. She was not in the mood for Lara's sarcasm first thing in the morning. Envy was a foreign emotion to her, but she was surely envious of Lara. Despite her appearance, attitude, and brief time in Seahaven, she seemed surrounded by newfound friends and admirers whether in town or at the palace. She was especially popular among the populace since Richard's defeat, seeming to always coming back to the palace with some new token of appreciation whenever they went into town. Meanwhile Melody's friends were nowhere to be seen, diminished to just Tip and Dash. Not only that, but everyone treated her with such delicacy it was becoming a point of irritation. If they so much as thought something might be bothering her, she was bombarded with questions. Is something wrong? Are you okay? Is there anything you need? Anything we can do? Maybe you should lie down? She was tired of being treated like she was made of cracked glass and followed everywhere she went. She missed the days when she could walk about freely without need for a guard, laughing with her friends in the sunshine, or swim to Atlantica and spend the day enjoying the endless wonders the ocean had to provide.

If anything, she wanted people to treat her as they did before…well, everything.

Melody gripped her brush tighter. It was not fair.

"By the way," said Lara as she pulled a towel off a nearby chair and wet it with water, starting to wipe off her sweat. "Your dad came by earlier. He wants us to meet him and Ariel at the docks this morning."

Melody stopped brushing, glancing back to Lara. "What for?"

"There's a ship in from Flowerhaven."

"Glowerhaven," corrected Melody.

Lara shrugged. "Whatever-haven. We're supposed to meet up around ten, so we've got about two hours to eat and get over there."

"Fine," said Melody.

"And the kids'll be here in an hour or so," added Lara. "I'm betting Jenni will want to go with us."

"Fine."

"And there's a spider on your arm."

Melody rolled her eyes. "Lara, it's too early for your jokes."

"I'm not joking. Look."

"Not falling for it."

"Look."

Melody looked, finding herself staring at an inch-long wolf spider slowly making its way up to her shoulder. It clung tight to her body, soaking up warmth from the sun and her skin as its multiple beady black eyes looked at her.

"Told you," said Lara.

Melody's scream was heard all the way to the palace gates.


The Master watched the rowboat carry Remora and their new asset into the darkness, the figure hidden beneath its cloak once more. The boat sat lower in the water than when it arrived, laden down with golden cargo. He watched until they disappeared in the dark, the distant unbroken rhythm of the enchanted oars fading away.

He turned to what remained of the mutinous pirate. Even with his high expectations the Master was impressed by the figure's exhibition. Its skill matched the rumors. So great was the efficiency and speed with which it worked that the dissenter was still alive after it finished, if only for a few minutes. Surely, he welcomed Death when she came to end his torment.

The Master turned to the water and clapped his hands twice. Five sharkanian heads breached the surface at his call, spears in their hands. The Master had no need of a guard, as he considered no one a threat to him. But keeping the sharkanians close ensured rumors of his and the other's power would circulate among the ranks. Rumors steeped in superstition and fear would quell any notions of insubordination or usurpation. Most of them, at least. Death would squash the remainder.

The sharkanians placed an arm across their chests and bowed, all trembling in the Master's presence. "Y-you called, your malevolence?" asked one of the guards.

The Master waved his hand to the pool. The black tendril rose once more, wrapping around the corpse's legs and hoisting it upright like a quartered steer in a butcher shop. "Hungry?"

The effect was immediate. The guards eyed the corpse with ravenous hunger, practically drooling in anticipation. Thought the inclination of sharks to eat humans was greatly overdone by sailors, the same could not be said for sharkanians. Humans were considered a delicacy, not to mention delicious. Much less salty and fattier than mermaids or fish. And with Atlantica saving humans from drowning and holding the sharkanians behind their borders, human flesh had become a rare treat until they threw in their lot with Maelstrom.

The Master gently waved his hand from side to side, causing the corpse to sway. The sharkanians' heads turned with it, like dogs eyeing a bone. One the Master was all too willing to provide.

With a flick of his wrist the tendril hurled what was left of the pirate out into the water. Instantly the sharkanians swam after the body, churning up the water as they closed in on their meal. The Master turned back to the pool as the sounds of splashing filled the air, grinning in the shade of his hood.

It was time for Maelstrom to move again. Morgana and Ursula upset his initial plans, but they had not ruined them. It would take more than the meddling of two revenge-fixated cilophytes to undo Maelstrom. Patience and secrecy were his allies, and he would utilize them to the fullest as he forged ahead. This hired killer was just another step of many. The flow of the game had changed, but the current was still taking Maelstrom and the Alliance towards an inevitable confrontation. One he was determined to win.

Still, the Master was not one to bet everything on a single hand. He knew the value of anticipating failure even when it seemed impossible. It was how he kept Maelstrom in the shadows so effectively. The assassin could do this job without their aid. The fact that its race was all but unknown to the world spoke to their lethality and stealth. He was confident it would accomplish its purpose.

But the Master wanted guarantees of success, not assurances. If there was one thing he could be certain of when it came to the royal family of Seahaven, it was that fate seemed to swing in their favor when least expected. Especially for Ariel and Melody. Fortune smiled on them in particular. If this was to work, a distraction was required so the assassin could slip in unnoticed.

And when it came to deception, the Master knew just the person to use.

It was time for Ursula to make good on her promise.


A/N: Hope you are all still enjoying the story! As always, comment/PM if you wish, and follow if you want more!

DISCLAIMER: I do not own "The Little Mermaid," Disney, or any of its associated characters and intellectual property. Everything else, however, is mine =)