Melody decided that if this was what having a sister was, she wasn't sure why her aunts and mother complained so much. After all, yesterday she hadn't even seen her, and for the most part of today the other teenager had been quiet, unobtrusive. It gave Melody a lot more leeway than usual—something the girl had been taking full advantage of.
It was obvious that she would never fit in completely to their family, Melody considered, but if her parents continued to be this hyper-focused on the other teen, she could stay for as long as she'd like.
Which was until her parents figured out a way for her to leave. Melody hadn't had the chance to eavesdrop recently and find out why this was so difficult for them—why not just put the girl in a carriage and drop her off at her home? It couldn't be that far away.
"Almost done, your highness," the seamstress said, a pin in her mouth as she took a step back, examining the fall of the fabric on the girl. Then, she sighed, mumbling, "Have to add an extra inch of fabric to the bottom…keeps growing like a weed…"
Melody ignored the comment. She'd been "growing like a weed" her whole life. The seamstress was great at her work, but straight forward, no-nonsense. She also became easily annoyed, especially with her mother. Ariel struggled to stay still for more than a minute. Her daughter, thankfully, had learned early on that the quickest way to end this chore was to be a human mannequin.
"What's this gown for, Princess?" One of the seamstress's apprentices—Theo, Melody believed—asked politely, as she went to cut an extra inch of fabric from the bolt that was brought to the dressing room.
"I think the holidays," Melody replied, careful not use any other body movements but her mouth. "But it may be afterwards. Mother said if I do well in school, and I don't have any assignments for the next day, she'll consider letting me go to the grownup balls this year!"
In the corner, she heard a snicker. She flipped her eyes back over to the redhead in the room, but saw that she was intently looking down at her nails. Must have been her imagination, then.
"You must be excited," the seamstress's apprentice answered, oblivious to any noises. She was a few years older than both the teens in the room, but still young enough to be learning her craft. "That's a big step, especially for your age."
"Mother said I can't really be out in society until I'm sixteen," Melody replied, sighing at the thought. She wished she was older; at sixteen she would be allowed to so much more. "But at least she'll let me go to some adult balls this year."
Another snicker, but this time louder. Melody flicked her eyes back, sure she heard it this time. The redheaded teenager looked like she was suppressing laughter, but still looking down at her nails.
"What?" Melody asked, unsure what could be so funny. "What did I say?"
"Huh?" Marcie sat up straighter, suddenly feeling the stare of more than one person in the room. She'd been curled up in an armchair, counting how many shells were on the wallpaper. So far she was up to forty-two on the far wall alone. "Are you talking to me?"
"You were laughing," Melody answered her question, frowning. "I don't know what I said that was so funny."
Marcie blinked, thinking back to what she had said and suppressing a grin. She knew it wasn't really that funny, but Matt had cracking down on her word usage lately, making everything twisted. She guessed it was more of an impact on her than she had thought.
"Nothing, don't worry about it," Marcie answered, casually returning to stare at the far wall, extending her legs out so that they fell over the chair's armrest. In doing so, her bare knees were exposed.
Melody's brows creased. "Aren't you wearing pantalettes? Or a petticoat?"
"What's that?" Marcie wondered, looking back over at Melody.
"Pantalettes," Melody repeated, as though the girl hadn't heard her. The confusion didn't leave Marcie's face. Melody used her eyes to look down at herself for a moment, trying to gesture what she was currently wearing under the fabric pinned across her. "They go under your dress?"
"Oh," Marcie said, acknowledging the new word. She turned back to staring at the wall. "I thought those were long johns. I was wondering why you'd wear thermals when it wasn't winter."
"Are you not wearing any?" Melody asked, horrified at the notion.
Marcie didn't take her eyes off the wall as she hiked up the dress to reveal how she had pushed the pantalettes above her knees. Forty-seven. "What's a petticoat?"
"The skirt that goes over your pantalettes," Melody answered, looking at the girl like she was crazy. How did she not know the basics of getting dressed? Maybe where she was from people dressed…differently, but not to this extent. "Please tell me you haven't been walking around without it?"
"You should see me in summer," Marcie replied, thoughtful at the idea. "I don't wear sleeves and I wear shorts that go up to here."
Marcie point to her mid-thigh. She knew that the length would scandalize Melody. She was getting bored sitting here though, watching the other girl have clothes made for her.
She grinned when Melody made a squeaking sound. "And if you think that's crazy, you should see what my best friend Matt's sister, Caity, swears she gonna wear to prom. There's no back to her dress!"
"And that's normal?" Melody watched as the girl shrugged, as though it wasn't a big deal. "Your home is a really different place."
"Yeah," Marcie answered, suddenly sounding far away. She didn't say anything else.
Melody studied her from afar. It'd been a few days she was here now. Maybe she needed more time…or maybe she really did miss her home. Even if her life would probably be better off in the palace, it didn't mean it should be forced on her. Hopefully her parents would find a way for her to get back soon.
The mood in the room felt like a dark cloud was hanging over. No one spoke much, least of all the redheaded teenager. After a few minutes, and adding an extra inch of fabric to the dress, the seamstress stood back, admired her work, and nodded that she was satisfied.
"You're done, your highness," the woman said in a pleased tone, having ignored the entire conversation between the two girls.
"Oh, good," Melody said, relief evident in her tone, but remaining still as the fabric was carefully slid off of her, in case she ruined a pinning and had to restart. The second she could, she wiggled her fingers and toes, regaining movement in her body.
She stepped out of the middle of the room, towards the chaise where her dress and petticoat had been abandoned haphazardly. She looked over at the other teenager, who was still quiet, head turned to the far wall now. As Melody slipped into her petticoat, she watched as the seamstress's eyes turned towards the redheaded teen.
"Your highness, it's your turn," she declared, already seeming annoyed that the other girl had not come forward.
There was no response.
The seamstress's eyes narrowed, never in the mood to play these sorts of games. Were it up to her, she would be in her workshop all day, creating beautiful designs. Unfortunately, part of the job of creating those designs was taking measurements to know exactly how they were supposed to be worn.
She cleared her throat, asking louder, more pointedly, "Your highness?"
Still no reply.
Seeing the seamstress's mood quickly souring, her apprentice looked up from where she had been carefully putting away the fabric pinning's that had been on Melody, calling out, "Princess Harmony?"
Nothing.
The seamstress gave a huff, throwing her hands up in frustration and looking at the ceiling. Even her apprentice seemed confused, not sure if the girl why the girl was willfully ignoring them so.
"…Marcie?" Melody guessed, not sure if that was the right name, but hoping to rectify the situation. She was rewarded when the redheaded girl looked over, as though suddenly startled to have heard her name.
"Yeah?" Marcie asked, ice-blue eyes taking in the scene before her. Melody was no longer in the center of the room, and had her dress back on, albeit loosely as she worked to tighten the laces in the back. "What's up?"
Melody raised a brow, like her father, and jutted her chin in the direction of the center of the room. "It's your turn."
"My turn for what?" Marcie questioned, eyes scanning the room. It clicked into place a moment later. She sat up straight, feet hitting the ground, slightly alarmed. "Hold on, I'm s'posed to be doing this too?"
"Mother said we had a fitting today, remember? She said you had time to eat breakfast before but you said you weren't hungry because you woke up late." Melody answered, wary now at seeing the girl's reaction. She pulled the laces tighter behind her with practiced fingers.
"I thought she meant I had to go with you to this thing, not that I needed to do it too!" Marcie said again, this time with more panic in her voice. "I don't need a fancy dress!"
"Actually, your highness," the seamstress said, hands on her hips, clearly vexed with the reaction. "You're supposed to be fitted for a full wardrobe. Day dresses, riding outfits, nightgowns, ball gowns—everything."
"I don't need that!" Marcie exclaimed, shaking her head furiously. Melody raised her brows, suddenly much more entertained and interested. "I've been wearing other stuff totally fine!"
"As a Princess, you need a proper wardrobe," the seamstress explained, her patience running quite thin. "I will not have my creations worn like some last-season cast asides!"
Marcie bit her lip, fiddling with the back of her glasses nervously. She could find no way out of this predicament. "Do I have to take my jacket off?"
"It's not so cold in here, your highness," the seamstress' apprentice offered, trying to be of help. "And I can fix the hole in the sleeve quickly while you're being fitted."
"But I don't need new clothes!" Marcie answered, still biting her lip, concern written all over her features. She pressed her thumb against the charm on her hand, nervous.
"Your highness," the seamstress said in a razor-sharp voice, now having run out of her limited patience, her eyes shooting daggers at the girl. "If you will allow me to do my job, this entire ordeal can be over fairly quickly. If not, I can inform the queen and have her discuss the matter with you."
Marcie's face paled. She didn't want to get in trouble. Plus, she didn't want to detract from all the work they were doing to figure out how to get her home. She had to try and be as normal as possible, keep her head down, and get out of this place as quickly as she'd arrived. It was already day five.
Marcie winced. Couldn't these people have just gone to the mall for clothes? Who got clothes made for them? "Okay, fine."
She got up slowly, avoiding their stares. She knew they couldn't understand why this was such a big deal. Maybe they thought she was shy? But then again, who turns down a chance at a whole new wardrobe, made from scratch?
Marcie inhaled deeply, then tugging at the sleeves of her pink jacket, took it off. There was a yellowed bruise right below where the sleeve of the dress ended on her right arm, Melody noticed, but nothing about that was unusual. She was also active and sometimes swam too fast, gotten out of control, and hit a rock.
Marcie continued silently, almost sullenly, never making eye-contact as she loosened the laces slightly from her back. Melody noticed she hadn't made a bow, instead making a series of knots. Even then, the laces were tangled together and all over the place, although it didn't take much for the teen to slip out of the dress with most of the knots still in tact.
So intent on wondering how someone could not know how to lace up a dress, Melody was startled to hear the seamstress' apprentice, Theo, gasp. The redheaded teen had dropped down to remove her shoes and socks, and in the process, Melody got a better glimpse of the bruise now that she was dressed only in a camisole.
Only it wasn't a bruise.
It was many bruises.
On both her upper arms.
Before she could think, Melody blurted out, "What happened?"
Marcie's face flushed the shade of her hair, she put the shoes side by side next to the armchair, then folded the dress to leave on top. She did grab her jacket though, taking a few steps to the center of the room. The seamstress' brows were raised, lips pulled tight, but she said nothing.
Marcie extended out her jacket to the woman's apprentice, asking hesitantly, "Can you fix the sleeve?"
The young woman looked shell-shocked for a moment, before reaching for the jacket. Thankfully, she didn't ask any questions, taking the jacket and a needle from the dresser, on the hunt for pink string.
"How did you get all those bruises?" Melody asked aloud again, still waiting for her answer.
Marcie looked over at her, at the fine dress she was wearing, the closet that was an entire room, the outright worry in her features. Her gaze dropped to the floor. "I hit the table, and my science project fell and got crushed when I landed on it. Pretty stupid, right?"
"When?" Melody wanted to know, her curiosity now piqued. The bruises were yellow, but were not in a random pattern as far she could tell. It looked almost like…someone had gripped her upper arms really, really tight. "And how?"
"You know…being clumsy," Marcie shrugged, and although movement was heavily discouraged by the seamstress, she said nothing as she whipped the tape measure across the span of the girl's shoulders. "Not a big deal. It happens, it was the day before I came here."
"I've been clumsy before and that's never happened to me," Melody stated, her voice implying that she knew the girl was lying. No, not lying, it didn't sound like she was making up a story…perhaps not saying all she knew was a better way to phrase it.
"It didn't even hurt that bad. I've had worse," Marcie mentioned, craning her neck to keep eye contact with the other girl. She twisted her left arm to show off an old scar that ran directly down the skin of her elbow. "This one I got after Tony Demarcus dared me to do a wheelie on my bike. My whole arm was shredded, but all I got was this little scar."
Melody peered at it from where she had now taken a seat on the chaise. "Doesn't look so little to me."
Now Marcie grinned. Her scars were childhood conquests, stories she loved to tell, adventures she accomplished. "This one," she bent slightly hiking up the pantalette on her right leg further, showing off another mark that started above her knee. "I got it when me and Matt were climbing on the old barn, and the roof fell in. Didn't even break a bone."
"Why were you climbing an old barn?" Melody asked, puzzled.
Marcie blinked. "Because we wanted to. Matt's super far back grandpa built it when his family came as pioneers. It hasn't been used in forever, not since the new barn was built."
Now Melody was intrigued. She noted to herself that the girl seemed a lot more relaxed, as though she had guided the conversation away from her bruises on purpose. "Wait, your friend lives on a farm?"
"A lot of people do," Marcie returned, a note of pride in her voice. "I was practically raised on the farm. Matt's dad said we could do whatever we wanted if we fixed the old barn, so we did. Still's our hideout, but now we spend a lot more time at Em's place."
"How come?" Melody noticed that the other teenager kept wiggling, but the seamstress kept her lips in a thin line, maneuvering the fabric in a terse fashion.
"Things got…complicated," Marcie frowned, recoiling violently when a bruise was poked by something. Three more pins stuck her in the process, all over. "Ow! Son of a bitch, that hurts!"
Melody gasped at the language. No one had ever said those words when they thought she was in their presence. Even Theo took a sharp intake of breath, eyes flying open, alarmed.
The seamstress, however, only appeared faintly amused. "Apologies, your highness."
"If Mom and Dad ever hear you say that again…" Melody trailed off, still horrified at the word spoken. "You shouldn't swear so much."
"How come?" Marcie answered, seemingly unbothered by her choice of language.
"Because…it's not ladylike!"
"I'm no lady," Marcie snorted, scrunching up her nose with a laugh. "I'm just Marcie."
Melody shook her head. How did she not get it? "Not anymore. Now you're Princess Harmony. There's rules you've got to follow."
The smile froze on the redhead's face, and her eyes widened a fraction of an inch. They looked even bigger behind her glasses. "Do I have to start answering to that? Is that what everyone's gonna call me, as long as I'm here?"
It was Melody's turn to shrug now. "Probably. It is your name and title, after all."
"I like Marcie, though," came the small reply, as though the weight of it all had suddenly come crashing upon the girl. She hadn't realized that along with her friends, her family, her home…going through the In-Between had taken away her name.
"It's not who you are," Melody replied, trying to be considerate, but knowing the girl had no choice. A person couldn't change their heritage; she was a prime example of that. "You're a princess."
What if I just wanted to be Marcie, the redheaded teenager thought, though she kept it to herself. Once again, she worried she would never be the person these people wanted. Those gifts yesterday proved they had this idea of who she was her whole life. She couldn't even bring herself to look through the presents yesterday, so shaken by the homesickness for her real home.
She didn't want to disappoint people, even those she knew she'd soon say goodbye to. But she couldn't just wake up and be a princess, not after having been Marcie her whole life.
"You're free to go, your highness."
The seamstress's voice broke through Marcie's thoughts. Somehow, when she'd been processing this stomach churning piece of news, the pinned fabric had been taken off her.
"Nothin' else?" The seamstress shook her head, eyes trailing, for a moment to the bruises on Marcie's shoulders. The teenager caught the look, and immediately wrapped her arms around herself, hunching her shoulders forward. "Uh, thanks, I guess."
"That was fast," Melody mentioned, but not looking deeper into the thought. She watched as the redhead nearly ran the few steps back to the armchair, shoving the dress over her head with such force that it could have ripped. "What do you want to do now?"
Marcie thought for a moment, pulling back on the jacket that had been carefully laid back with the dress on the armchair. She marveled at the sleeve; you could hardly tell there had been a rip there in the first place. "I'm kinda hungry. Maybe I'll go eat."
"Then after you eat what do you want to do?" Melody wondered, smoothing out her dress. "We could go to the sea."
"I still don't think it's a good idea," Emma called upwards, stomping her boot into the snow covered ground, pouting. "You're gonna get hurt, and then we're not gonna have a pool."
"You don't even go in it," Matt waved off the girl's concerns, watching as Marcie slid across the sheen of ice. "You said all summer the pool was too dirty, you'd have to drain it, clean it, and put new water in."
"It was too dirty!" Emma declared, tossing her blonde curls. She rubbed her hands together, keeping them warm in the low temperature, before shoving both into her coat. She could feel Marcie's glasses in her pocket, asked to hold onto them just in case. "And neither of you wanted to help me clean it!."
"I've got chores to do at home, I'm not gonna do your chores too!" Matt whined, looking away for a moment from the aboveground pool. It was large for their small town, but then, most people didn't even bother to have pools around here. Not worth the maintenance in the winter, or so Matt's father said. "Besides, it's frozen solid, it's not like anything bad—"
CRACK!
In the briefest of seconds, Matt turned his head and saw as the red of Marcie's hair disappeared. He blinked.
His feet moved without his mind, halfway up the ladder when he heard Emma yell, "I'm going to get help!"
"Marcie!" He yelled, but saw nothing. He dunked his head into the water, eyes wide open, but quickly had to pull it up as the shock of the cold was too much to handle.
The boy scanned the ice, his arms thrashing into the open water, feet hooked into the ladder less he fall in. He saw something in the corner, and realized it was a hand pressing upwards. She was trying to break through the ice!
How long could people survive after falling into ice? A minute? Five minutes? How long could they survive if they couldn't breathe…or swim?
Thinking fast, he pulled his legs over the edge, gripping at the sides of the pool tightly. He used his heavy snow boots to kick open a wider hole in the ice, breaking it apart, forcing cracks and fissures to appear. His feet got waterlogged quickly, but adrenaline kept him going, kicking until the ice had broken up into big, floating chunks.
Out of breath, he swung is legs back over to the ladder, once again using his feet as anchors, and throwing his torso over the edge. The water was murky, and cold, but he felt something against his hand. He grabbed onto it and pulled up.
He expected her to begin choking on water. Instead, the girl inhaled deeply, throwing her head back, before sinking back into the water, hanging onto him like a life preserver.
"Are you okay?" He demanded to know, searching her face for signs of struggle, exhaustion, inability to breathe, anything.
She looked down at herself, feeling heavy with all the clothes…but physically, alright. The water was cold, but it didn't feel freezing, like she knew it should. She wasn't even coughing. "I think so. I held my breath."
"You held your breath for that long?" Matt asked, taken aback, staring at her, forgetting she was in the water, forgetting that he was soaked as well. "You can't even swim!"
"I know," Marcie answered, her heart pumping. When she couldn't breach the surface for air, some instinct had kicked in, telling her to remain calm and hold her breath. She couldn't understand how she had not drowned. "I guess I got lucky."
Marcie shook her head. "No, thanks, I don't want to go down to the water."
"You never want to go to the sea," Melody pouted, drawing this notion off the two invitations she had extended, and been turned down. "Well, what do you want to do after you eat?"
"Maybe I'll go back to the library, read through some more history," Marcie answered. "Or find your parents, see if they know how to get me home yet."
It was Melody's turn to make a face. Neither of those options were appealing. Her mother had told her to get the know the other girl, and she always considered herself to be a nice enough person. But it seemed like the redhead didn't want her around!
"I've got a math test tomorrow I should study for, I guess," Melody conceded, before brightening again. "But maybe I'll go riding later!"
"Yeah," Marcie acknowledged, but she was no longer paying attention to the other girl. Nearly out the door already, she pulled the map out of her jacket pocket, studying it as she walked out.
Melody watched her leave, getting up slowly, and pursing her lips out. "I guess she's really hungry."
The girl shrugged it off. At least she'd been talkative today. It had made sticking around mostly worth it.
"I guess I'll go study," Melody acquiesced, sighing at the thought. She looked over at seamstress, curiously asking, "Mother really asked you to make a full wardrobe for her?"
The seamstress's sharp eyes fell upon the princess, nodding slowly. Melody made a face for a moment, puzzled. Something about all this didn't make sense.
"Why would she need so many clothes if Mom and Dad are trying to get her back home?" She wondered aloud, the idea somehow not connecting. A full wardrobe was expensive; why spend so much money if the girl wasn't staying?
"Maybe their majesties want her to feel like she's a princess?" Theo ventured, guessing as best she could.
"Maybe," Melody replied, although her tone of voice was not entirely convinced. Then, she shook it off; her parents knew what they were doing. "Either way, I should get to studying. Thanks!"
Then, the princess was off, maybe to pick up her books, maybe to go off to the sea. Theo watched her go, and once she was positive the girl was out of earshot, she straightened. The seamstress was busy marking down something on a pad of paper, scribbling furiously notes and numbers.
"Ma'am, those bruises on her arms…" Theo trailed off, unsure what to say.
The seamstress's head yanked upwards, sharp eyes focusing on her apprentice now. The younger woman became nervous under the glare.
"The princess said it was an accident," the seamstress answered, her voice piercing. "Nothing leaves this room. Understood?"
"Yes, ma'am," Theo answered quickly, meekly, working quicker now.
The seamstress seemed to soften for a moment, looking out the door, after the princesses, and then said after a moment, "And as long as she is here, their majesties will keep her safe."
"Do you think…" Theo ventured once again, carefully, "Even if their majesties don't send her back…will she stay?"
The implication was clear in her statement. Would Princess Harmony ever really be Princess Harmony? The girl had clearly been shaken at the idea that she would eventually have to come to terms with the new name, the new identity.
"Like you informed Princess Melody," the seamstress answered, returning to her pad and waving off the idea, "New clothes might be the thing that make her feel like a princess."
Disclaimer: Ariel, Eric, Melody, etc. 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.