Carlotta had spent the better part of her adult life working in the palace, first as a young maid, and eventually becoming the housekeeper. It was a position that carried with it a lot of weight. Everything that happened within the white stone walls she prided herself on knowing, from broken windows to young princesses sneaking about, nothing got passed her.

Nothing.

Except, of course, when she caught a flash of familiar red from the corner of her eye, and turned to see the back of a head with short hair.

Her first instinct was to gasp. What in heaven's name had the girl (she'd never be able to see Ariel as anything more than a lovesick teenager) done to herself, between breakfast and now? Determined to find out, the housekeeper called out to her.

"Your majesty!" She waited a moment, but the girl did not stop walking. Frowning, because she should have heard her, Carlotta tried again. "Your majesty!"

There was no response. The housekeeper wasn't fazed. Although not as often anymore, there were still times Ariel could get lost in her own world.

Still, it didn't make this situation any less frustrating. Huffing, the housekeeper had to make quick steps to catch up to her. She was just within arm's reach, eyes focused on that hair, when the queen whirled around.

Except…it wasn't Ariel.

"Are you tryin' to talk to me?" A rough voice asked, worried.

Carlotta gaped, suddenly finding that the familiar face was not that of her queen, but rather, someone else she knew very well. "Princess Melody, what in the world have you done to your hair? And why are you wearing eyeglasses?"

The girl in question frowned, her eyebrows coming together in confusion. "My name's Marcie, ma'am."

"Oh, stop your pretending," Carlotta retorted, sizing the girl up with razor sharp eyes. "And just what are you wearing? You're supposed to be in your lessons!"

"Um…no?" Marcie guessed, biting her bottom lip in consternation. "Look, if you think I'm Melanie, I'm not. We kinda look a little alike, but you've got the wrong person."

"Playacting won't be getting you out of this one, Princess," the housekeeper fumed, more than hell-bent on giving the girl an earful for her stupidity. "Honestly, running about when you're supposed to be doing schoolwork!"

I'm in trouble and I didn't even do anything wrong, Marcie mused, sighing. That seemed to be the best way to describe the way her life was going these days. Instead of arguing, she figured it would be best to hang her head and let this pass.

"…and don't worry, there are plenty of chores you'll be doing!" Carlotta exclaimed, still quite angry, but the sharpness of it all was fading when she realized the girl wasn't trying to argue back.

It wasn't like the princess to be so quiet, which put the housekeeper on alert, suddenly much more worried. Melody should have been angrily defending her choices, not training her gaze to the floor. Concerned, the housekeeper lifted the girl's chin, garnering those blue eyes on her.

Except, those weren't the blue eyes she knew, the one's the girl had inherited from her mother, as deep as the kingdom she had come from. Even behind the thick glasses it was obvious. No, this was a different pair, much more reminiscent of the one's a boy she had cared for in his youth, and even now as a grown man, had.

"What in the world," Carlotta mumbled to herself, suddenly very confused as she took in the girl's features, something about them not correlating with how Melody looked. "You've got a mark on your face, dear."

"That's a birthmark, ma'am, it's not gonna go away." Marcie said, grimacing as the woman examined her intently.

This time, the girl's accent caught the housekeeper's attention. It was not one she had heard before. It did not sound like someone from the countryside, or villages; it sounded like it was from somewhere far, far away.

Carlotta dropped her hand away from the girl's face, squinting at the teen in wonder. She suddenly saw the differences in between the young princess and this girl, from the slant of the girl's nose, to the way her face was a little less rounded out.

In their meeting with the servants this morning, Ariel and Eric had explained that their daughter, after fourteen years missing, had returned. They weren't sure how, but neither was the girl for that matter. It seemed she had snuck into the palace trying to find directions on how to get back home, and after Ariel had recognized her, three doctors had so far been able to confirm she was their child. Experts had been summoned and were set to arrive soon as well.

Of course, Carlotta had already known all this, even before the staff meeting. There was nothing she didn't know in this palace.

So then was this…?

"Harmony?" She breathed, eyes becoming colossal at the idea.

The girl seemed to struggle with the name for a moment, looking like she wanted to argue it, before shrugging. "I guess. I mean, I just go by Marcie."

"Oh, my…" The housekeeper said, seeming to take in the moment with a fair bit of shock. A hand pressed over her heart, tears glistening in front of her pupils. Her other hand reached out to girl's face; the teen dodged it neatly.

Looking uncomfortable, Marcie took a small step back, trying to keep her nerves down. "Um…can you just tell me where the kitchen is, ma'am?"

Carlotta seemed to be a fair bit dazed, repeating robotically, "The kitchen?"

"Yeah, you know, to grab a bite to eat, if that's okay?" Her explanation was anxious, because Marcie wasn't sure about the rules in this place, didn't know what kind of things happened in a mansion. "I'm kinda hungry."

That seemed to be what snapped this woman out of her state. Straightening up, which meant she was a little shorter than Marcie, she started to appraise the girl. Her eyes narrowed when she saw that the odd clothes were just a bit too big for her frame, even though they appeared to be her size.

"You're going to have a nice breakfast in the dining room," The woman said, pressing a hand on the girl's shoulder, and steering her in the opposite direction she'd been going.

Marcie ducked away from the woman's touch. "Do I have to eat in the dining room?"

"Well, where else do you intend to eat whatever Louis makes for you?"

Struggling to keep up with the fast paced steps of the older woman, Marcie's brows furrowed at the unfamiliar name, pronouncing it slowly on her tongue. "Lou-eey?"

"Mhm-hm, the head chef, dear."

The teen's eyes went wide. "This place has gotta chef?"

Carlotta gave her a sidelong glance, as though not comprehending why this was such surprising news. "Well, of course. Who do you think is in charge of all the meals?"

Marcie went quiet, not sure what to respond with. The only place she'd ever seen with chefs was restaurants, as the school cafeteria only had heated up frozen food. She'd never really considered that someone would have one in their home.

Then again, she thought, this isn't a regular house.

"I can just make somethin' myself," she offered finally. "No one needs to go through any trouble for me."

A frown was thrown her way. "And what do you think you'll be making?"

"I dunno," the girl answered honestly, shrugging. "Toast?"

"That's not exactly a well-rounded meal," Carlotta responded, lips pursed in disapproval.

"I'm not really a breakfast person," Marcie answered, wincing tightly at the growl from her stomach. "Just somethin' little is good enough."

"Hm…" the housekeeper intoned, deciding against giving the girl a lecture on the most important meal of the day. "Well, I suppose the kitchen staff will see what they can do."

"Wait, there's a…." the question died out on her lips, as Marcie realized they had reached the dining room.

She took a few steps forward, eyes shifting everywhere, and her head falling back to see it all.

Because really, 'room' was underestimating it.

This place could have easily fit the entirety of her house, with space to spare.

To her right, there was an entire wall that was just made up of a window, one that had to be at least three stories tall, probably more. Paintings so huge they could dwarf basketball stars lined the walls, and the table was so long, so ornate, that the teen wondered if it was another thing that had been custom made. The ceiling was so high that she figured the best view of it was from laying on the floor, and a giant glass chandelier hung, it's crystals shining tiny rainbows across the high points.

"Wow," she managed to squeak out, still turning slow circles to see it all. She'd never dreamed something so big, so pretty, could exist.

"Why don't you take a seat, dear?" Carlotta suggested, though if the teen heard her she wasn't quite sure. The girl looked mesmerized; combined with her odd accent, the housekeeper wondered if the princess had ever known this life existed. "I'll go tell the kitchen staff about seeing to a hot breakfast for you, alright?"

This time she caught Marcie's attention, but just barely. "…'k, sounds good."

Carlotta smiled, a bit unsurely though, at the girl. She was an odd little thing, that was for certain, but then, her mother had been too. She chalked it up to the girl feeling like a fish-out-of-water, and turned around, back to the direction of the kitchen, to explain to Louis how an entire new breakfast needed to be made, even though the hour was closer to lunch now.

Something blue outside caught Marcie's eye. She walked towards it, but grunted in annoyance when the glare from the window reflected off of her own glasses. She sighed, removing them from her eyes, squinting the rest of the way to the window.

Her poor vision didn't let her see anything other than a light blue blob. It seemed to go on for miles, but that could have been a trick of the light. She could tell that there were grey blobs placed in there, looking they may have been rocks?

"Guess I'll never know," she shrugged it off, turning from the window and instead heading for the table.

"Wonder why they only got three seats," she mumbled to herself, running her hand in appreciation over the head chair. "There's a lot more people that gotta live here."

The chair itself was something of fascination. Green upholstery, soft and comfy from what she could feel, lined the inside of it. It was taller than she was, even though she was standing, and a large, gold cursive letter was inscribed into the very top of it.

"Just like my bracelet," Marcie mumbled, reaching for her wrist, but not finding the charm. That's right; they had kept it last night.

To the right of the big chair were two smaller ones, similar, but without the giant cursive letter. The girl wasn't sure fit in enough to sit at this table, everything about it seemed so expensive. But the woman had said to take a seat…

"Um…" she bit her lip, unsure of where to sit..

Looking around to make sure that she wouldn't be yelled at as soon as she did, Marcie pulled a chair out as little as she could, and took a seat. She pulled her feet under her to sit on, the slight height boost making her feel more regal.

The teen looked down the expanse of the long table. A huge bouquet of flowers was at the center of it, white, purple, and green looking rather pretty. Yet, she decided to keep her distance; while it wasn't spring yet, flowers still set off her hay-fever like no other.

Unsure of what else to do, she waited quietly. Then, when that failed, she drummed her fingers against the tabletop, humming a nonsense tune. The silverware to her right made a faint clinking sound as she did. Then, when she got bored of that, she did what any teen would do: she pulled her phone out.

Immediately, she was able to ascertain that once again, she had no signal. It was starting to feel like the entire house was like this. While it was weird, she supposed phone lines were probably down in the area.

"Whatever," she said, "level 28, here I come!"

Her fingers had just pressed against the game on her phone when she heard a crash from afar. Startled, and out of habit, she pushed the phone back into her pocket. There was a cry of "Louis", another bang, and a whole lot of footsteps heading in her direction.

Marcie cringed, shrinking down in her seat. This did not bode well.

Seconds later, a portly man with a thin mustache that curled at the ends was bursting into the room. He held a tray, or at least Marcie assumed it was one, of what looked like food on it. He was sweating too, beads of it running down his face, coming from the white hat on top of his head.

He froze when he seemed to realize she was sitting there, staring at him with obvious worry for her own safety. "Itz true, ze princess…" he whispered, staring at her with open mouthed shock.

Swiftly, he bowed to her, the tray wobbling unsteadily in his hands as he did. "Your 'ighness, itz an honor, and a miracle."

"Uh…" Marcie said uncertainly, now glad that she'd chosen this seat, as there was another one between her and this odd man. Did he seriously just bow at her? "Cool?"

"Louis!" The woman from before came running in, with surprising speed for someone her age. "I told you not to—!"

"And here, mademoiselle, is a breakfast just for you. I made it myzelf." He looked obviously pleased, proud even, as he set before Marcie the tray of food in a sweeping motion.

Uncomfortable, the girl managed a very unsteady, "Um…thanks, sir."

She looked down at the plate of food. There was something that looked like a waffle, only, it wasn't the kind she was used to. This was a huge, thick one, covering most of the plate, and probably her face. Then there was a stack of pancakes, and toast, and syrup to the side.

"You got store-brand waffles," Marcie said with a huff, scowling at the box in her hand. She set it aside and continued taking groceries out of the bags. "I told you to get the real ones."

"The real ones are twice the price," came a grunt from behind her, a hand reaching under her arm to grab the frozen waffles. "Besides, it's the same thing."

"Store-brand tastes like cardboard." She whined, taking the last thing out of the bag. She made room on the counter and jumped up on it, swinging her feet below her. "if I had a million bucks, I'd only ever buy the good kind."

"Yeah, well," her brother replied, his head in the freezer. "If I had a million bucks, I'd get real waffles everyday, the kind you gotta make with a special pan, and lots of butter. Not the frozen kind."

"You'll never get a million bucks," she retorted swiftly, grumbling as any eleven year old would. "And there aren't special pans for waffles; I'm not stupid. Waffles always come frozen. Look it up."

A head poked out from the freezer, the boy's arms resting on the low door of the fridge beneath it. "You tellin' me you've never had real waffles?"

Marcie stared at him blankly. This allowed for him to give a low whistle, shaking his head in a sad state. "Damn. You're deprived."

"Well, if it's so good, why don't we just buy the pan and make some?"

He chuckled at her; she frowned, not liking when she was a joke. "You kiddin' me? Those things are like, specialty; it's probably super expensive."

"Oh." Her frown deepened, and she watched as his gray eyes and brown hair disappeared back into the fridge. She looked around the room, and then leaned forward, in a low voice saying, "I've got some money saved up, and I'll get some more after this summer is done from babysitting; wanna split it?"

"It ain't worth it, we don't need one," he responded, sounding very practical. "Besides, you don't have a lot left."

Marcie perked up, suddenly on high alert. "What'd you do with my money, Adam?"

"Don't be mad, but I had to take Caity out last week and I was a little short so I just borrowed—!"

Another box of frozen waffles was thrown at his head.

The memory came and went in an instant. Marcie was thrown back into reality, from the corner of her eye seeing the mustached man (was that Lou-eey?) staring at her, as though expecting something. The woman had finally huffed her way next to him, looking angry, and about to give him a good yelling.

The girl felt a twinge inside. She didn't want anyone to be yelled at because of her. So, she did what she assumed he was wanting her to do: she started to eat.

First, she removed all the fruit off the waffle, picking them off one by one. Then she grabbed two of the pancakes, placing them on top of the waffle, followed by one of the pieces of toast. Finally, she poured the entirety of the syrup onto her creation, virtually drowning it.

With practiced fingers, she picked up each side of the waffle, sort of sandwiching everything in there, sort of making it into a breakfast taco, and stuffed as much of it as she could into her mouth.

"Hey," she exclaimed, brightening up, and turning to look at the man. Her mouth was completely full, and open. "Thawt's really goohd!"

The man simply stood there. He looked horrified, and crestfallen all at once. Her fingers sticky with syrup, she took another big bite before she was even done chewing, She wondered why his mouth had fallen open, this time in seeming like it was done in dread.

"Back to the kitchen with you, Louis!" Carlotta ordered, trying very hard not to look at the mess of the girl before her. She pushed the chef from behind, because his feet were not moving on his own. She looked behind her once at the girl, before saying, "Er…when you're finished, hon, just…just leave everything here."

"'K," Marcie answered, straining her ears to pick up the chef bumbling.

"She just… everyzing, she just…"

The rest of what he said faded from hearing as both the woman, and the chef, disappeared from view. Marcie didn't really care. She was only thinking of how great it was going to be when she told her brother that she'd finally had a real waffle.

A few more big bites and she was full. Actually, she was more than full. She was so full, she felt like her stomach might explode, and she couldn't eat for at least another week. She licked her fingers clean of syrup, rubbing them on her jeans. A generous gulp of water (which she hadn't seen until now was also on this tray) later, and she slid out of the seat.

She did feel guilty about leaving the dishes there. She'd been raised that if someone cooked for you, you cleaned for them. Simple manners. But the woman had said to leave it all there, and she wasn't sure where the kitchen was…

With a wince, Marcie walked out of the large dining room, pushing her glasses back up her nose as she went.

Melody was having a great day.

First, her morning lessons were cut an hour short when she managed to finish her schoolwork early. Then, her afternoon lessons had been canceled, all three of her tutor's canceling at the same time. And to top it all off, she managed to sneak into the kitchen and grab a cookie before anyone realized it.

Again, it was a great day.

With only an hour until lunch with her parents, she figured she would hold off on a swim. She'd rather spend the entire afternoon out there, rather than have to spend only half an hour, because she'd have to come back in, bathe, and change.

So, she decided to act on her plan, which was to gather all the information possible about this girl her parents claimed was her sister.

"Problem is," Melody muttered, looking around a corner, before sighing as no one was there. "She's nowhere to be found."

Frowning in consternation, she continued on her quest. It was a big castle, the girl could literally be anywhere at this point. And bothering the staff about it wouldn't help her cause.

"If I'm going to find her," she started, making a sharp left turn, "I've got to think like her."

Her face contorted into a grimace then, realizing that she didn't know enough about the girl to think like her. She knew that she had horrid manners, and that she had skipped a few meals. She also knew that the girl was from somewhere faraway, and apparently she favored slacks.

Other than that, she was lost.

"This is hopeless, isn't it?" She sighed to herself, glum as she realized it. "I mean, it's not even worth—"

Without warning, something red caught the corner of her eye. Immediately, Melody pressed herself against the wall. Then she peeked into the room with one eye, figuring it was her mother inside.

But between the short red hair, and odd clothing from last night, the princess couldn't deny it: this was the other girl.

Melody grinned to herself. Apparently, today really was going to continue being a great day. She straightened up, adjusted her dress slightly, and walked into the room.

The sound of her footsteps didn't seem to register with the other girl. It seemed as though she was deep in thought, staring up at a painting. Melody coughed slightly to get her attention.

That sound caused the girl to jump in surprise, whirling around. One arm was thrown out in defense, the other pressing against her beating heart. Her audible sigh of relief when she saw that it was only Melody was a curious sight.

"You scared the livin' crap out of me, jeez!" Marcie complained, dropping her defensive arm. Still, the one against her heart only tightened as she tried to stop its irrational beat.

"I'm sorry," Melody answered, ruefully. "I didn't mean to startle you. I just wanted to know why you were in the portrait gallery."

Marcie pushed her glasses back up her nose, shrugging as she turned back to the painting. "I dunno. I was walking, and this thing looked kinda interesting, so I came to check it out."

Something slid into place in Melody's mind; she still was not convinced entirely of this girl's motives, did 'check it out' stand for 'steal the painting'? Her eyes narrowed slightly as the investigatory side of her came alive. "Uh-huh. Why did it look so interesting?"

"'Cause I've never seen like, real art, this close before. It's kinda neat."

Her answer was sincere, seemingly honest enough. Melody suddenly felt very silly for asking, her cheeks tinting pink; unless the girl had grown in a very affluent home (which she doubted, judging by the half-sewn hole in her trousers), of course she wouldn't have easy access to priceless artworks. Maybe she was being too suspicious; her parents were usually very good judges of character.

"I'm sorry, I think we got off on the wrong foot," she tried, dipping into a light curtsey. "Let's start over. I'm Melody."

The girl stared at her, her red brows pulling together low. She bit her lip, the crystal clear blue eyes behind her glasses filling with an unsure glaze. Finally, she stuck out her hand. "I'm Marcie. Technically, I mean, it's just a nickname, but that's what everyone calls me."

Melody stared at the hand, not quite knowing what to do with it. Her etiquette tutor had ingrained in her that she was to curtsey when she met new people, although she had seen her father shake hands with old friends before. "Erm…alright then."

Marcie's extended hang hung in the air. Not understanding what it was still doing there, Melody slowly reached out to it, desperately keeping her eyes trained on anything other than this girl's eyes. The other girl took her hand and gave it a single pump, before releasing it.

Melody looked back up at her, seeing the troubled expression in the girl's eyes. Awkwardly, she asked, "So, how do you like Elsemaine? From what you've seen, I mean?"

"'S a lot bigger than my town," Marcie answered, wariness now sweeping over her. "But I's not so bad."

"Oh. Is it very different, where you come from, I mean?"

"In Amherst? Sure. But its home." She answered easily, before frowning seriously at the painting before her. "I gotta get back soon, though. I was gone all night, and if I didn't go to school today, my friends, my brother, is gonna be worried."

"So…you're not planning on staying? At all?" The idea confounded Melody. If this girl was acting, then she was probably the best she'd ever seen. Marcie nodded, agreeing. "But…this is your home."

The Nebraskan teen turned slightly towards the princess, eyes serious. "Do you believe that?"

Melody shrunk under her steady gaze, eyes falling to the floor as she muttered, "I don't know what I believe."

"Neither do I." Marcie twisted her lips, making a face. "At this point, all I know is that I gotta get home. I mean, home-home, like Nebraska home."

Something inside of the dark-haired girl twisted up. Something akin to pity touched at her. Marcie didn't seem like an actress trying to cozy up to the royal family, or that she was trying to take her parents on an emotional rollercoaster. She just seemed like a normal teenager who didn't know what was going on.

Unsure of what else to say, Melody cleared her throat, stating, "It's going to be lunch soon."

The other girl turned her face away, back to the portrait she'd been observing for the last few minutes. "Okay."

"I guess I'll be going, then." Melody started to shuffle away, her footsteps making a funny sound as she walked. She was right by the doorway to the portrait gallery when something hit her. Uneasily, she turned around, asking, "Are you staying here long?"

"Depends," The red haired girl answered, not bothering to turn around as she said so.

"Alright," there was an uncomfortable pause, before Melody continued, "I suppose I'll see you around?"

"See ya 'round," came the agreement.

Disclaimer: Ariel, Eric, Melody, Carlotta, Chef Louis and the setting for this story are from The Little Mermaid, which is property of Disney. I own nothing; everything represented from the film(s), tv series, etc. is/are the property of Disney. Other characters are from my own imagination and are not associated with Disney.