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The Little Mermaid: A Child Born of Sea and Shore
Ch. 10: The Breath of the World, the Waves of a Song
Now
As she lay on the bed she had called her own for two of her eighteen years, Ariel Oldenburg screamed.
"Push, your majesty!"
She screamed even harder.
"Push!"
In what was left of her rational mind, she wondered how the human race had even survived this long. She was giving birth, and yet her son seemed intent on killing her.
Ironic that after months of kicking, the little brat now refused to move.
"Your majesty, you have to let the child leave you," Poulsen entreated.
"I'm trying," she moaned, as she clutched the sheets beside her. "Trying…still trying…"
Grimsby was there. As was Carlotta, as was Doctor Poulsen, as were her ladies-in-waiting. Henrik, bless him, would have been here as well, had she the strength to order it. He had taken her from the beach post-haste, delivered her to Castle Oldenburg, and in so doing, to the steady hands of Doctor Poulsen. Beyond that, his role as head of the household guard demanded his presence elsewhere. Of all the wars he had fought, this battle would not be among them.
She would have welcomed Henrik's presence – a notion that would have been absurd less than a day ago. He had left her at the castle entrance, and ordered to oversee the changing of the watch. Come the morn, he would know his queen's fate, along with everyone else in Copenhagen.
She would have welcomed him. And yet, given what he had said, and more importantly what he had not, she knew what he was reliving. She would not ask a man who had lost everything to potentially relive his moments of loss.
A possibility that was becoming more likely with every passing moment.
Thus, she screamed.
Again.
"Your majesty, you have to push," Poulsen whispered as Carlotta applied a flannel to her queen's head. Ariel's vision fluctuated, candles flickered in the dark, but she could see the concern in the eyes of those around them, be they behind Poulsen's glasses, or the timid fear of youth in Vareet's, as if she was reliving the death of a parent. She could see them carrying away blood-stained sheets and bringing in fresh ones.
Even when they carried away the sheets, the stench of blood remained.
"Push!"
She pushed. She screamed. Her child still refused to enter the world. Again and again came Poulsen's order, again and again she pushed, yet it availed her naught. The bloody light of the sun vanished beneath the horizon, and what was left was only moon and star. And beyond the window also was-
Ariel screamed, and not just because of the pain in her belly. There, beyond the window…through the window…the Daughters of the Air.
In silence they remained. Floating like the Fates in La Sirenetta, as the Little Mermaid was dragged into the depths of the sea. Drowning this time in blood rather than water.
Sometimes one, sometimes two, but if there's three, that's when death comes for you. If they're the breath of the world, they're there when you take your last.
And now, like on the beach, three of them. Iris, Ceres, Juno. Maiden, Mother, Crone. Fates three, Fates together. Juno before the others, whose face was naught but Death. Her gaze with the hardness of bone and bronze, as uncaring as the entropy of time.
No word escaped their lips. Naught but sorrow from Iris, indifference from Ceres, satisfaction from Juno. Why, Ariel could not say, and in defiance, she turned her eyes back to Poulsen.
"Push!"
She tried. She pushed with the force of the world itself, yet it availed her naught. And through the corner of her eye, the lips of Death curled into a smile.
Hours passed, as she faded in and out of consciousness. Every breath weaker than the last. Every sheet flimsier than that before, before it too was soaked in blood.
There was chill in the room, one that went beyond the sweat that coated her skin, and the blood that left her flower while her child refused to do so. It was chill that she saw was affecting those around her, as Poulsen put on a coat, and Vareet turned to Carlotta for warmth as much as comfort. Chill that Ariel knew could not be attributed to anything bar the Daughters, even if the land-folk could not behold them.
But their chill was nothing compared to that of their queen, whose skin had turned as white as snow. Whose very hair was now dimming like the sun long set. Less bright than the blood that surrounded her.
And all the while, the Daughters remained. Waiting for last breath. Yearning, almost, like sharks espying a wounded seal. None more so than Death herself – like a she-wolf, one that would never let infant babes suckle her milk.
Romulus had taken the life of Remus. Her child had yet to even live. Perhaps, Ariel wondered as she shivered in the bed named Blood, it was not just her breath the Daughters sought, but hers.
"Where is my husband?" the queen whispered.
No-one answered. No word but whispers, as to whether they should send for a priest.
"Want my husband…"
Every so often, she regained enough strength to resume pushing. But each attempt was weaker than the last, and her periods of unconsciousness longer. So long that eventually, she started seeing things.
She was in her mermaid form, unable to talk, beached upon the inlet below her quarters. In the window, she could see Eric and Vanessa.
She tried to call out, but no words escaped her throat. Through the window, she saw them embrace.
She saw herself with knife in hand, be it to take his heart or hers.
She saw herself turning the blade upon her own belly. To cut out the wretch, in a bid to save her body, if not her soul.
Tears welled in her eyes, as in the vision, her body became one with the ocean. Foam upon its top, fading away.
Forgotten.
"Where is she?"
Unsung. Unremembered.
"Meant to be back," Ariel whispered. "Back…"
Was it her imagination, or did Iris weep, invoking the ire of Ceres?
Was it her imagination, as she closed her eyes, that feeling of her forehead being kissed? Was it her mother? Her father? Was it dream, or memory, even if both were as ephemeral as the ghosts that lurked above her?
She heard whispers.
"…cut…out."
"That would kill her."
"Do you…one life…two?"
I'm dying, Ariel realized. Turning aside, she could see Carlotta and her ladies-in-waiting in prayer. Vareet, sobbing with enough tears to form a second sea. Born in the sea, die on the land.
Poulsen and Grimsby were still talking.
"Given her origin…complications…"
"She has been of sound health…"
"An early pregnancy…what has gone wrong?"
"Eric," Ariel whispered. "I want Eric…"
He was not here. He was meant to be here. Any day now. But she might not last a day. She might not last until sunrise.
She turned her head as best she could, shivering, as her nightdress remained drenched in sweat, and her sheets in blood. Beyond her window was the sea. Endless, blue, full of life. More life than even the Dry World. Much more than these creatures of the air, who looked down upon her. Standing between her and the ocean. Who…
"Move," Ariel whispered.
None heard her.
"Move," the queen repeated, as she did her best to remove herself from the bed. "Move…move!"
"My queen, please, save your strength," Poulsen begged.
"No," Ariel whispered. "Move."
"Your majesty?" Grimsby asked.
"To the…sea," Ariel rasped, as she sat on the bed's edge, holding her belly as Atlas had the sky. "I was born in the sea. I was not meant to give birth on land. And now…?" She looked out the window. The sea was beyond her eyes. But such was the silence in the room, she could hear the waves lapping against the shore.
"You would move down to the beach?" Grimsby asked. "Are you mad?"
"If a child be…born…of sea and shore…then…be there…where sea and shore…meet."
The two men looked at each other. No doubt they thought her mad. But Ariel's eyes darted towards Death. In her eyes, however faint, was fear, or at least an approximation of it. She knew not what they desired. If, indeed, they had any such concept.
They are creatures of the air. Ephemeral, unfeeling, barely even real, as empty as cloudless sky.
Grimsby began to protest. "Your majesty, I can only advise against this. To travel down to the beach now? What makes you think it would better serve you?"
What indeed, Ariel wondered? And yet, as the fear remained in Juno's eyes…
"Take me down," she whispered, her voice as soft as winter's current. "As your queen, I command you."
Ariel groaned with the sound of a whale in labour, as her entourage escorted her through the dimly lit halls of Castle Oldenburg.
Shadows danced upon the walls, such was the light of their candles. Eric had told her of pixies, sprites, and goblins, and now, on what might be her last night, the stories of the Dry World had come to haunt her. The shadows danced, as if to the music of Chernabog himself.
Poulsen and Grimsby held their queen, while Carlotta and her ladies-in-waiting followed. Once so full of life, the castle's interior was now scant better than a mausoleum.
The mer did not bury their dead. They had no means to, as their bodies became one with the ocean when three centuries of life concluded. Even if one met with mishap before that time, the result was the same. They could bleed, they could fill the bellies of sharks, but in the end, the sea claimed its prize.
She wondered what would happen if she passed this night – would her body remain, be interred in the crypts of Roskilde Cathedral? Or would she fade away before the eyes of the living, the only memory of her a portrait painted by a Frenchman?
She passed by the portraits of Christian and Eleanora. One succumbed to a disease of land, one to the sea itself. Portraits of the dead, eyes unmoving. Part of a line that stretched back three centuries, of a crown that went back an additional five. Would her eyes close forever this night?
Perhaps her child could be saved, even if she could not. And while Ariel knew what decision she would make if it came to her life or the one inside her…she had been without her mother for all but the first four years of her life. For her child to never know her mother at all…what then? And if her body became as foam, what of the one within?
None of the land-folk could answer, and if the Daughters had one, no words escaped their lips. They followed her, like ladies-in-waiting, yet whose purpose was darker than Carlotta or her maids could imagine. Ariel knew it would do no good to bring attention to the spirits above them, and indeed, the Daughters' eyes had focused on none but the Rose of Denmark.
Always, they remained silent. Juno led them, Iris trailed behind, as if at rainbow's end, unable to behold it. Once, Iris had sung, yet now, nothing escaped her lips, not even requiem or threnody.
Ariel begged for rest, for body and spirit both. She groaned, as she was lain against the wall, beneath a great portrait. No mortal above her spoke word.
"You are dying, Little Mermaid."
A creature not of human flesh, however, did.
She looked upwards through eyes weighed by oblivion. The eyes of Ariel, blue as a spring sea, met the grey eyes of Juno. Grey like her sisters, yet only in hers was there cruelty. She carried spear as her father might her trident. Her breastplate remained in place - the Mother Sister, who waged war against a queen.
"You are dying," Juno repeated. "Last breath approaches, and we shall take it."
The eyes of Death shone in glee. Joy and spite mixed – the pleasures of the meanest ghost, mixed with the eternity of one as old as the world itself.
"What are you?" Ariel whispered.
No answer came from Death, nor those around her. Carlotta dabbed Ariel's forehead, unaware of the spirits above. She struggled to breathe, and with each breath, the smile of Sister Death grew wider. Her anticipation growing for the moment of closure.
She struggled to take to foot, but there was no strength left in her legs. As weak as a newborn, her eyes filled with fear rather than wonder, as they darted upward to behold the Devil and the Prince of Thorns. Where holiness had prevailed against Hell itself. Steel against the green fire of maleficent beast.
"Neither steel nor fire can avail you," whispered Juno. "Those of centuries past long dead. They did not defy the natural order of the world. Your sins are not theirs. The Prince of Thorns wed the Child of Dawn, yet dawn your eyes shall never again behold."
Ariel made neither sound nor motion. Her breathing faded. Her mind retreated, replaying the events of the last eight months within the splinter of her mind. Love, life, and loss, for she could not be saved by litany this night.
Her last breath approached, and Death was pleased. Those around her, despite their bereavement, could not stop their queen from taking last breath.
The nightmare that had begun eight months hither had reached its coda.
And with weary eyes, Ariel prepared for it to end.
"Ariel?"
Her last breath may have indeed been taken if she did not hear the sound of different voice.
"Ariel!"
The sound of heavy footsteps. The sound of a man rushing over to his wife and taking her in his arms.
It was not the arms of Eric Oldenburg that awakened her however, nor any kiss upon her forehead, or even the barks of his faithful companion. Not even the warmth in his body, so far removed from the icy chill of air itself. Rather, it was what he was carrying. What Ariel felt in his hands, as well as hers. Looked upon it in the wonder she had once held for artifacts of his world, and now, an artifact of hers.
"The conch," she whispered, as she opened her eyes, and met his. "You kept it…"
"Learnt to play it as well," he whispered.
He made a sound – laugh, cry, she could not answer. She imagined him playing it on a balcony at Madrid. She imagined him playing it on the shore beside Castle Oldenburg. She imagined her son, or daughter…her child…being there with him.
With her.
"Ariel, why are you out here? Henrik told me of your labours. He begged to be allowed to come himself, but true to his position, he stayed put, and asked I carry prayer only. I-"
"The sea calls me," Ariel whispered. "Life or death, I would be beside it. The sea brought life to land, and now, fortunes may be reversed."
"Ariel, you-"
"You love the sea, Eric, as you love me. But as it took your mother, it gave me birth. And perhaps, there is where my path to life may yet lie. The place between where new life may be born."
Eric said nothing. She could see the doubt in his eyes, but doubt she would take in place of Juno's cruelty, or the indifference of Ceres. Even the despair in the eyes of Iris she had no heed of. All that mattered was what was in the eyes of her husband.
Confusion. But faith. As king and husband, he would follow his queen.
"To the beach?" he whispered.
"To the beach," Ariel repeated. "For where else would a child of sea and shore be born?"
The entourage continued. Away from the creature of green fire, away from the Prince of Thorns, away from darkness grasping, waiting to be banished by dawn.
And all the while, Fates three followed.
Through the strength and guidance of her husband's arms, Ariel was laid down upon the sand, under the light of a moon waxed fullest. Not far where Eric had first beheld her, and now, might behold his wife one final time.
His time in Spain had done him good, Ariel reflected, and not just in the fullness of his features. There was kindness in his arms, but strength as well. A strength greater than all those who followed them combined. Whether it be Grimsby in his stoic silence, Carlotta and her ladies with their tears, Max in his whining, or Poulsen in his cold analysis.
A strength that might not have been greater than the Daughters of the Air, however, for they had followed them every step of the way. From the painting of The Devil and the Prince of Thorns, to the darkness of stygian night, with morning still many an hour away.
The stars were not veiled. Many a night, she and Eric had stood upon balcony or lain upon grass further afield. The mer knew of the stars, but had not studied or worshipped them as land-folk had, for more often, their eyes were downward. As Ariel had discovered, there was more in heaven and earth than dreamt of in merish philosophy.
Eric had told her the name of every constellation, shown her star charts from lands afar as China. He had shown her the constellation which had borne her name – Aries. The Ram. A creature of strength and determination. And Ariel, much to her father's frustration, had been nothing but determined.
But that would not avail her. Her mind lingered on the painting in the castle. Prince Phillip slaying a creature of flame. He had won his battle through determination. Fought his battle, as she was fighting one now. She had her own dragon to face and overcome.
But then, Ariel reflected, the dragon, the Devil, that creature of maleficence, had still been a creature of flesh. The ghosts that followed her were no such thing. They could not be defeated through force of arms. No different in a sense from any other foe she had encountered in her years beneath the waves. Sharkanians, mantas, sea witches…more often than not, wit and kindness had availed her more than strength of arms.
But how did one defeat Death itself?
"The prince slew the dragon, and his blood continues through the King of Song and Sea," whispered Juno. "But his bloodline shall not be continued this night. Dawn will not come for you."
"Dawn will not avail you," added Ceres.
"Dawn," whispered Iris," is ever the hope of those of Man. But the sun offers naught for us. Its light drives the winds of the world, but we are not bound to it. It passes through us. We cannot feel it. Can feel little at all…"
Ariel strove to ignore them. They were here for her final breath, but they could not take it. She would breathe. She would live. She would sing. She would bring new life into the world.
Or so she dared pray.
"How funny it is," she whispered, as she took Eric's hand in hers, "when once, I was here for you upon the sand."
He remained silent.
"This child is the offspring of two worlds," Ariel continued, her words as much directed to her husband as the Daughters – one hand entwined with Eric's, the other upon her belly. "Here, on the edge of land and sea…here he lives. Or here we die. Where else better for either of us?"
"Ariel…"
She looked at her husband. The man she'd left her world for, in the fires of youth. A man she'd risked everything for. The man she had thought she was in love with. Had been in love with.
Fallen in love with.
With Poulsen and his liege by her side, she fought the battle that only a woman could. She pushed, in tune with the lapping of the waves. Blood mixed with sand and sea. Morning's chill ravaged her, and Death came closer, while Ceres and Iris remained behind. Yet it was to the youngest Daughter that Ariel turned her attention to.
"Beware of me," the queen rasped, the words barely escaping her mouth. "Told me to…beware of you…"
Iris lowered her head.
"What are you?" Ariel whispered, as voice and breath were swallowed by the night. "That, at least, you owe me…"
Naught but silence, bar that of wave and prayer.
"Tell me," she whispered, as life left her body.
No answer but that of summer's wind.
"Tell me!"
Eric grasped her hand. He could not see, he could not understand. His comprehension was as void as the interior of the conch beside him. But between Juno in her glee, and Iris in her sorrow, it was Ceres who drifted forward. Who began to speak.
"We are the Daughters of the Air," answered she who wore the crown of flowers. "We were here when the world took first breath, we shall be here when it takes its last. Before life emerged from darkest depths, we were here. When light has gone, here we still shall be."
"We bore witness to the blooming of life in the Dry World. We bore witness to creatures fair and terrible alike. We bore witness to the blood of Tiamat mixing with water, birthing your kind. We shall be here when the last mer has become foam in the sea. We have seen much, from falling stars, to djinn, we have beheld the colours of wind on other side of sea. And yet we shall outlast them all, such is eternity's gift and infinitude's curse."
"You are here," Ariel rasped, "to take my last breath."
"You have listened to the tales of feathered fools, but in them there is truth. Mer do not have souls – from the sea you were born, to the sea you return. Longevity, rather than eternity. You are not like land-folk - their lives are short, but their souls are released from the world when last breath is taken, departing to where even we cannot behold. Like you, we are without souls ourselves, but we find ways to bear them. We fly across the world, to where death is found in perpetuity. It is the health and healing of air itself, and in so doing, we are offered means of obtaining souls ourselves. To share in the happiness of Man."
"Healing," Ariel hissed. "Is this what you call healing? This torment? Always you have come at moments of death, and always, death is what you desire."
"The natural order demands it."
It was not Ceres who spoke those words, but Juno. Even if only Ariel's ears could hear her words. Ceres fell silent, and perhaps her words had not been spoken false. Perhaps the Daughters did bear the souls of men. Perhaps they did find ways of obtaining happiness, of obtaining souls, whatever that might mean.
But not this night.
"Iris has beseeched your sins be pardoned, but the natural order cannot be denied. You are mer, who has become one of land. Gained the love of Man, and in so doing, gained soul. That is not without precedent, for there have been mer before you. Liban became one with the land, Bunzi became one with the sky. Yet no mer has ever carried human child within their belly. No mer has conceived a child of sea and shore. To do so would bring abomination – sea and soul mixed."
"The blood of Tiamat mixed with the sea," Ariel protested. "Is her blood not my own? My child's?"
"Your words are thinner than wind," answered Juno. "Your last breath will be taken, to prevent the first breath of something else."
Ariel put her hand to her belly, even as she continued to push, however weakly. All this time…the thing that the Daughters wanted…it was not she, daughter of Triton they wanted…but her child. Through their own conception of "the natural order," or so they claimed.
No. There had to be more than this. She studied them. The Maiden, the Mother, the Crone. Each different. Yet each similar. And what bound them all, she recognized.
"You are afraid," Ariel whispered. "Sea and land…what will follow in my child's footsteps? What will you take when soul and sea are mixed? Healing…no, that is not it. You are there for the last breath of men and merfolk alike, before a soul passes beyond, or returns to the sea that bore them. You fear what may come when even that is beyond you."
None of the Sisters offered answer.
"I see it now," said the seventhborn of the Sea King. "This night, your name is Fear. You fear what you cannot take. And fear I understand."
"You cannot defy us," hissed Juno, the wind rising with her words. "We were there when death took your mother. Now, ten-and-four years later, we are here for you. Last breath, you shall take, and your child will never take their first."
"You are not Tiamat," Ceres whispered.
"You are Ariel," said Iris. "But even your song must end."
By all rights, she should have had the rage of Tiamat herself. But it was not anger that Ariel felt in that moment, but rather temptation.
Her mother had been lost under grey sky – not the blue endless sky her mother had sung of. She had departed this world, her body becoming one with the sea when death had come for her.
To escape this pain? To escape the smell of blood and salt, mixing together? Her open wound, sullying sand? Still, her child refused to move. As if it knew the natural order.
"Long night comes," said Juno. "You shall not greet the dawn."
"Perhaps not," Ariel whispered. "And yet I would dare to glimpse it!"
She continued to push, but each was weaker than the one before it. Blood stained the sand. Sweat marred her forehead. Hour upon hour, she pushed, she screamed. Eric clutched her hand, never leaving her side. The Daughters of the Air remained, unable to be perceived by human eye.
It was a battle. One she had always fought. She had defied death more times than she could count. Always under the sea, or upon its shores. But death came for everyone in the end. She had known that from the moment her mother was lost to her.
"Join her," whispered Juno.
Her mother, who shared the name of wisdom.
"Join her," whispered Ceres.
Her mother, whose face she bore.
"Please, do not defy us," begged Iris.
Her mother, who Ariel knew, would not be swayed in the defending of any of her children, be they her firstborn or last.
Ariel was not Queen Athena of Atlantica. But she would fight her battle just the same.
And so she pushed. Men fought their battles, women fought theirs – fighting against death itself, by bringing in new life.
"She defies us," whispered Ceres.
Ariel pushed.
"She defies the natural order," snarled Juno.
Ariel pushed.
"Of course," whispered Iris. "What mother would not tear the world apart for the sake of their child? Who else could stare into the eyes of angels, who could meet the gaze of those as old as air itself, and utter 'nay?'"
Ariel pushed.
"A head, your majesty," exclaimed Grimsby. "Your son comes forth, God bless him!"
Ariel pushed. Her body heaved in time with the waves themselves. Back and forth, in and out, in time with the music of the world.
Her lungs taking breath of the air.
"He's coming! Thank God, he's coming!"
The water reached her.
"Last breath," whispered Juno. "Last breath must be taken so never comes the first!"
Ariel sagged. Life and strength was leaving her. Death may yet prevail.
She looked up to her husband. He could not see the Daughters. But he could see her. And through words unspoken, he understood. He took his hand, and with voice as soft as pillow, as flowing as the wind, he began to sing.
The stars are faint, the sea is cold.
The castle's banners lie unfurled.
The king, he kneels here beside his queen.
The wind is ice, it carries dread.
The Maiden long has left the Head.
And yet, I beg, let us still live this dream.
On beach you sang, with angel's tune.
Spared my soul, defied my doom,
And now, for life and love, beseech you fight.
The shadows long, yet nears the dawn.
Take not last breath, be not forlorn.
My Rose, my love, I beg, endure the night.
The sun will break, horizon near.
The clouds will part, the sky will clear.
A birth, a joy, our kingdom, ring the bells.
And when upon this sand we sing,
Prince or princess, queen and king.
We know then, as know now, that things be well.
Eric sang, as King of Song and Sea – title he had carried even before meeting his bride, having impressed many a court across Europe. He sung, and his voice was as strong as the land itself, and as deep as the sea that bordered it. He sang, and gave the Daughters pause. All but Iris, who yearned to sing herself.
Waves lapped upon the sand. Her blood entered the water, as Tiamat's had so long ago. Blood of the land met the sea, and with it came new life.
"One last push," Eric whispered, as he squeezed her hand. "Push, I beg you, push. Push as the sun dares crest horizon."
Ariel grasped it, yet her eyes were focused on none but the Daughters. Of the light that was beginning to shine through them, as sun crested eastern horizon. As their emptiness and envy was revealed to all.
Envy, Ariel realized. Envy was what drove them as much as anything. Who would not envy the feeling of a husband's love, or the cry of a child? Who would not envy the feeling of flesh, the taste of meat and wine, of music, song, and dance? What were these so-called daughters but the meanest of spirits?
Perhaps their tale be true, Ariel thought. And if so…how close were envy and cruelty? How quickly they might lead to despair! Had she not learnt that under the light of trident? In her moment, hate and pity alike warred within her.
"Last breath," Juno begged. "Last breath. It approaches."
Ariel took a breath. The waves rolled back. As if this was her last chance to rejoin the ocean. As if to remind her that once her child was brought into the world, there was no going back home. She would be there for them, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, in every moment of his life.
Ariel pushed. She had made her decision long ago.
Juno wailed, and Ariel released breath.
In one final push, in one last cry, as the sea itself acknowledged her decision, her child entered the world.
Crying.
She collapsed upon the sand. Muffled voices reached her ears. A great weight had been removed from her, in more ways than one.
"Ariel?"
Eric, his song ended, was with her. She felt a damp cloth upon her forehead, the water itself fresh.
She saw the doctor wielding scissors as Grimsby held something in blankets. She struggled to get up, but Eric held her back. Whispered something about it being alright, that it was perfectly natural.
There was a snip, there was a cry, and some long, worm-like thing ended up in a pan held by Carlotta.
Vareet gave her a glass of water. Funny how she'd spent the first sixteen years of her life submerged in water, yet it had never tasted as sweet. Indeed, drinking at all was a quirk of the land.
Grimsby brought the child over. Wrapped in blankets, Ariel could see his little feet kicking. As if he thought he was still in his mother's womb, or was seeking to swim immediately. He-
"A girl, your grace."
Perhaps it was her imagination, but Ariel detected a tone of disappointment in the steward's voice.
"Perfectly healthy," added Doctor Poulsen. "A baby girl."
"A girl," Eric repeated, tears shining in his eyes like sea sparkling beneath sun.
There was no disapproval in his voice, Ariel noticed. Her eyes darted to the three Daughters…and blinked, for now there were but two. Juno had faded from her sight, and only Ceres and Iris remained.
"A girl indeed," Grimsby murmured. "Well, there's always next time. We-"
The child began to cry. And Grimsby, noticing his queen's waiting arms, entrusted the young girl to her mother.
A daughter, Ariel reflected, as she took the infant in her arms. As her mother before her once had. My daughter…
Memories from a time long ago washed into her mind, as surely as the water came across the sand. A mother of a different world, holding her. She had whispered something – words that Ariel could not remember. Perhaps words she'd never even heard. The memory was like a ghost, fading under moonlight's caress.
Ariel didn't whisper to her daughter as she took her in her arms. But she did speak to those around her, as much as herself.
"She's beautiful."
The child continued to cry, but not as loud. Perhaps she had heard. Perhaps it was because of her mother's arms. Perhaps, as a child of two worlds, she was right where she needed to be.
"Of course, we have to name the child," Grimsby said, turning to Eric. "Eleanora, perhaps? That would be a strong name your grace, named after your mother. A reminder to the people that-"
"Melody."
The word escaped Ariel's mouth, unbidden, if not unwanted.
"Melody, your grace?" Asked Grimsby. "I don't believe there's ever been a Melody in the line of Oldenburg."
"First for everything, Grimsby," Eric repeated.
"Of course, your grace, but-"
"Melody," Ariel said, as she looked at her husband. "She came into the world on the words of a song. She was here on shore, birthed by the Rose of Denmark, in the presence of the King and Song and Sea. She is part of my world, and I hers. What else could I name her? Can I not pray that in time, she stands here and hears echoes of this song? That she dare sing her own?"
No-one answered. Not even the infant herself, as her cries and kicking finally ceased. As she closed her little eyes, blind and deaf to the world.
"Melody, then," Grimsby said, smiling with a warmth to rival the sun. "May God bless her, and she who bore her."
Congratulations followed. From Poulsen. From Carlotta, who hugged Ariel as if she be her daughter. From Vareet, whose tears remained, even if the reason behind them had long departed. One lady after another bowed, to their current queen and future one alike, as a dog barked in joy.
Ariel's eyes returned to the Daughters. Now, as the sun crested the horizon, Ceres too had faded. Only Iris remained. She who looked as joyful as any land-folk. She who appeared to yearn to touch Ariel's daughter. For a moment, sympathy touched Ariel's heart. For much of her life, she had been denied the means to know the land. Iris too, it seemed, shared similar pain, and unlike Ariel, had no means of taking it.
She would last as long as the world, and yet never live. Perhaps she would carry souls to the hereafter, perhaps she would fade. But what Ariel felt, in spirit and body both…it would never be yours. Could never be yours. The world was fair, and yet, it had cruelty to it. A lesson Ariel had learnt long ago, beneath a tortured sky.
Her eyes turned to Eric. He gently took his daughter in her arms. Held her with a gentleness that belied his strength. Looked at her with gaze Ariel had not seen from his eyes, yet recognize all the same.
"Melody," he repeated.
"You disapprove?" she asked.
"No. After all, singing that song brought her into our world, as song brought you into mine."
Ariel smiled and looked upon the dark sea. She thought of Attina, who had felt her belly. She thought of her father, a king who had just become a grandfather. She thought of all those who would celebrate, who would curse, who would fear, who would love. Thought how, in time, her daughter would meet them all.
"Maybe it wasn't me," Ariel whispered. "Maybe the song was always here."
Melody began to cry once more, and while every instinct in Ariel's body urged her to comfort her daughter, her gaze instead lingered on daughter of different kin. The one who was fading in early morning light. Who reached out, as if yearning not to take her daughter's breath, but to feel it.
"Will my eyes again behold you?" Ariel whispered.
"Perhaps…" Iris paused, as long as a turning of the world, before words were again spoken. "Perhaps, Little Mermaid, perhaps when last breath is taken. Perhaps when your soul leaves this world. Perhaps then we shall meet again, Daughter of Triton, but I doubt it so. The world is changing. The breeze is shifting. The sea is smaller, the land is harder and there will be no room for us in the world that Man creates." She smiled. "But I too shall sing. I too shall offer melody of my own. And perhaps when the wind is fair, when it carries the warmth of a golden country…you shall hear me."
Ariel said no more, as Iris, Daughter of the Air, faded from her sight. Said naught but "hush now," as her daughter began to cry.
Said nothing at all as she gripped her child tight in her arms. As the sun began to rise, as the stars began to fade, as the full moon faded from sight.
As the sound of a conch rang out, its song flying o'er the world.