Almost three weeks in, Marcie had fallen into a routine. Without school, she stayed up late at night, and woke up even later. Sometimes she made it for lunch, or dinner. Most of the time she didn't. Ariel and Eric often tried to seek her out throughout the day, check on her, ask if she was okay, if she needed anything, assure her they were never far away. Giving up when she was unwilling to open to them didn't seem to be either of their nature.
Sometimes she wandered out to the stables. The smell of old wood, horses, and hay made her feel less lonely. She was careful to always ask the stable master, politely, if it was alright for her to stick around. He didn't ask her many questions; she didn't offer any information. In exchange, he returned from his lunch to freshly mucked stalls, water and oats replaced for the horses as well.
On this particular mid-morning, Marcie got out of bed, pulled on one of Melody's dresses, and laced up her Converse. She washed her face, ran her fingers through her short hair, and pushed her glasses up her nose. The girl in the mirror had circles under her eyes; a good night's sleep, absent of the anxiety that gnawed at her, was hard to come by.
"Maybe today they'll get me back," she told herself, still staring at her reflection. It was the mantra she repeated daily. A part of her worried what would happen if she didn't.
With a sigh, she pushed away from the large bathroom mirror. At first, having her own bathroom had been a perk, like the big room and the huge closet. The newness had worn off, though, and she missed banging on the bathroom door, complaining that Adam had been in there for an hour already.
She grabbed the large book she'd been hiding the extra homework Coral gave her in. Recently, she'd been trying to learn to read and write in Atlantican. With so much time on her hands, she had surprised herself at how quickly she'd picked it up. Then, she grabbed a handful of candy, stuffing it as well into the book—even dried out, it was still delicious.
After making her bed, the girl pressed the book against her chest, and headed out. She passed by people doing chores as she walked through the long halls, but no one paid much attention to her anymore. That was alright; blending in allowed her to move faster. She rarely got lost nowadays, and knew all the spots that were out of the way enough for her not to be a bother.
However, today was different. As she walked, she noticed a door that was always closed had been left carelessly open. The girl frowned; she knew from picking up on gossip that unused rooms were to be closed, to keep the draft out. Someone must have forgotten after cleaning. Something shiny in the room caught the girl's eye, it's sheen remarkable. Marcie let her eyes flit from left to right, wary and debating if she was even allowed to enter the room.
"Just a second," the girl promised herself, cautiously entering the room.
She felt all the breath leave her body.
There, in the middle of the room, was the most remarkable thing she'd come across in this palace. Despite the grand rooms, the chandeliers, portraits that were more than twice her size, she'd never come across something so amazing.
"A grand piano," she whispered, finally breathing again. She took a step towards the instrument, reaching out a hand, then stopped, afraid she'd ruin it.
The piano looked to be in mint condition. The leather bench before it looked hardly sat upon. The instrument was long, taking up most of the room, but fancier than anything Marcie had ever seen on TV. The legs holding it up were thick, but there was a softness in the carved design, as though its creator had lovingly spent time creating its uniqueness. Its lid was propped up, allowing for a full display of the strings beneath.
In all, it was perfect.
Marcie hesitantly reached out once again, pressing a single key down. The note rang out across the room, and she snatched her hand back, quickly looking behind her to see if anyone had heard. No, she was still alone, as the clear note faded softly. She pressed another note, and kept her finger there; again, no one came out from the woodwork to admonish her.
"It's in tune," she whispered to herself. She had not expected as much, seeing as how it looked like no one ever played it.
She pressed a few more keys down, creating a series of notes that harmonized together. Her confidence grew as she came to conclusion that no one was around, or could hear her. She felt her heart in her throat. The redhead hadn't played in years.
She jostled the book she was holding to her right hand, fingers hovering above the keys. She wondered if she even remembered any songs. Slowly, her fingers pressed down on each key, a song being woven together. She paused for a moment, looking at the book in her right hand, before setting it down on the floor, and sitting at the bench.
She inhaled the smell of wood. Her body relaxed at the familiar scene, and her mind sharpened, suddenly picking out notes and melodies before her. She let out a deep breath, almost like a satisfied sigh, and placed her fingers over the keys once again. Then, she began to play.
Unbeknownst to the girl, across the palace, people stopped what they were doing, straightening up, and straining an ear. From the kitchens to the gardens, everyone could hear a piano, it's tune ringing clear and true. In the middle of her math lesson, Melody put her pen down, she, along with her tutor, wondering who could be playing.
They were not alone either. Palace staff nearby found themselves wandering past the room, gathering just outside the door. Their faces expressed a startled surprise upon realizing it was the rediscovered princess playing. Still, anyone who came by to listen and started to express their shock was quickly shushed, heads and eyes motioning purposefully towards the girl at the piano bench.
Eric arrived sometime in the middle of the song. He'd been pointedly ignoring a mailed request from the Duke of Groven for an audience. The marble halls of the palace had hummed with the melodic tune, and interested in who was playing, he'd followed the music. He had assumed it was a servant, maybe someone who was cleaning and felt an urge to play.
He wasn't terribly surprised to find a small crowd of staff gathered around the source of the music; while Ariel and Melody loved to sing, neither of them were interested in physical instruments. There'd also been a lull recently in palace events where musicians were usually hired; with the redheaded teen's return, he and Ariel had made the decision to postpone as much as possible. He was adamant about not wanting the girl to be gawked at, to be put on display for the public.
Those who had gathered quickly scattered away, tugging on their friends as they caught sight of him. He smiled to himself, ruefully. They were probably going back to their daily chores, lest he turn them in to Carlotta and they get an earful for slacking off.
He leaned up against the door post and almost took a step back in alarm when he realized it wasn't anyone who was playing; it was his daughter. The pensive teenager who barely acknowledged his "good mornings" or "good afternoons", was classically trained? They had pianos in Earth?
He didn't recognize the song. He'd be the first to admit he didn't have much of an ear for music, but this was a different tune. Music didn't often make him think about much, except the realization that the song had changed and this was another dance step. But the song the girl was playing was…different. Sensitive. Sad, but not slow. Like it was reaching for a feeling from his boyhood, buried deep in his memories.
Ah.
Homesick.
The song felt like homesickness.
He was so intent on drawing out how the song made him feel that he hardly registered Ariel's steps down the hall. And he knew they were Ariel's steps without ever looking away from the girl at the piano. Ariel wasn't quiet; in the fifteen years he'd known her, she'd never been quiet.
"Who's playing?" He heard her whisper as she got close, posing the question to him. Clearly the music had reached her as well, and curiosity had drawn her here.
He didn't respond. He didn't need to. He heard her gasp; clearly, she saw who was at the piano.
Ariel loved music, but had never heard a song like this before. The tune was completely unfamiliar, but despite its intensity, it sounded…it felt…she couldn't explain it. But for a moment, she felt sixteen again, a newlywed, and she missed the way the coral bloomed back home.
The tune slowly came to an end, its final notes eminent. Ariel watched, hands clasped together and pressed over her lips. The past few weeks had been…tense, with the teenager, who seemed much more guarded after Ariel had snapped at her for not wanting to go to school. But this? This was beautiful, this was the teenager at ease, comfortable in her own home.
The final key was pressed, and Marcie felt her shoulders relax. She gave a half-smile down to her hands. The piano played as beautifully as it looked.
There was a flurry of noise behind her, soft clapping. Marcie spun around, eyes wide. Both Ariel and Eric had somehow stood at the entrance of the room, and they looked stunned.
"That was incredible," Eric declared, blinking back his stupor. "You never mentioned you could play the piano."
Marcie stared at him, her eyes huge. Misinterpreting his statement, she shrank back, feeling the keys press into her back. "The—The door was open! I was only here for a minute!"
The reaction was wildly unexpected. Ariel couldn't understand why the girl was looking at them that way. "Do you think we're angry that you were in the music room?"
Marcie felt her heartbeat in her ears. She stared at them. They stared at her.
She noticed a small gap in between Eric and Ariel, just wide enough that she could make it through. They might be able to catch her, but it was worth a shot, at least until they forgot why they were upset to begin with.
She made a decision in a moment, springing from the bench, collecting her book on the floor, and running as fast as she could out of the room. Ariel stepped back slightly, as she went past, alarmed at the sudden movement. It was almost a blink-and-you'll-miss-it, one moment she seemed terrified, the next, she was gone without a trace.
"Well, that could have gone—" Eric started, as a sharp cry of "Ow!" followed by a loud crash could be heard not too far away. "—better."
"What in the…" Ariel muttered to herself, taken aback by the sudden shift in the girl's mood. "Come on." She tugged at her husband's arm, moving both of them out of the music room, and into the hallway.
"Up there," Eric said, nodding in the direction of the girl hunched over the floor, her book thrown haphazardly ahead of her. "She didn't make it far."
Ariel ignored his statement, determined, lifting her skirt again and nearly marching to the teen. She took quick stock of the situation: a smashed vase, but thankfully no flowers or water across the hall. The girl seemed fine as well, although she was quickly trying to grab as many chunks of the glass as she could.
Alarm bells went off in Ariel's head. She got down to the teen's level, reaching out a gentle hand. The movement startled the girl, and she looked up, panicked.
"I'm sorry!" Marcie was quick to say, her voice panicked. "I didn't mean to, it wasn't on purpose, I wasn't thinking!"
"Honey," Ariel started, her voice soothing, but wary, not comprehending this level of distress from the girl. It was almost worse than the first day she arrived, like Eric had described her looking when he pulled her from the water. "It's alright, it's only a vase. Accidents happen."
The words didn't register with Marcie, who kept grabbing pieces as she saw them, hurrying to say, "I can fix it, I promise! I can—I can superglue it back together, you won't even know!"
"Whoa, easy," now it was Eric's turn, also coming down to the girl's level. "That's all glass, be careful with that."
"I'll buy another one!" Marcie exclaimed, babbling now, rushing to get the words out before they could point the finger at her. "I saved up some money! I hid it in a sock in the storm cellar, you know, so Adam can't find it. If I get another one then it's like nothing happened, and you don't have to be angry and—ow!"
Instinctively, Marcie's eyes filled with tears, and retracted her hand, clutching at it. Her scared blue eyes did not move from the couple before her though. "Please, don't be mad. It was an accident."
Eric and Ariel exchanged a worried look, but it was Eric who spoke. "No one is mad. Are you okay?"
"Me?" Marcie blinked wildly, looking at both of them, unable to comprehend. She had just broken something of theirs, and they wanted to know if she was alright?
"May I see your hand?" Ariel asked, calmly, despite the concern she felt. She could see the blood droplets on the girl's dress.
Marcie shook her head quickly, eyes still wide. "I won't bleed everywhere, if that's what your worried about, I promise. I'll wrap it up. 'S only a little scratch."
"Why don't we take a trip to the infirmary then?" Eric proposed, though Marcie looked uneasy at the prospect. She knew from her map that the infirmary was on the other side of the palace. "For a bandage, I mean."
Marcie held her hand closer to herself, protective. The wound stung, but she put pressure on the skin, as though she could force it to mend itself. She swallowed the tears back, and sat up straight. "I've gotta finish cleaning up. It's my fault."
This was the same reaction she'd had when Eric pulled her out of the water, and again, he couldn't understand it. Melody would have been quick to place the blame on anything but herself; slippery floor, new shoes, the vase wasn't there yesterday. The same feeling he'd had when he'd spoken to Ariel about the odd reaction came back. Something about the way Harmony was quick to place the blame on herself, almost in a panic, didn't sit right with him.
He ignored the feeling that asked him to investigate further, to ask her why she thought they would be angry with her. Now was not the time. "You'll hurt yourself again if you keep on picking up glass with your hands."
"No, I've done it before, all you gotta do is pick up the big pieces, then you sweep up the rest of the little ones," Marcie answered, pressing her hand harder as she felt it grow slippery with blood.
"You can clean up afterwards," Ariel promised, her blue eyes sincere, and serious. She mistook the girl's insistence for politeness. "First, let's have Doctor Berg check out that…scratch. Then you can come back and we'll find you a broom. Is that a plan?"
"You sure?" Marcie flickered her gaze between the two of them. Eric looked bothered, like if there was something he couldn't figure out. But Ariel was determined, standing up, brushing off invisible dust off her dress.
"Positive," Ariel answered, mind already made up on the plan.
"No one hurt me," Marcie declared, her eyes traveling from Ariel, to Eric, and then back to the doctor. "I wasn't paying attention to where I was running. Knocked over a vase and then cut myself picking it up. All my fault."
"Those are good details to know, your highness," Doctor Berg said, a touch amused, but his tone warm and not patronizing. The Princess was clearly nervous, as her feet hadn't stopped swinging since she'd jumped onto the infirmary bed.
"I've got all my shots too," Marcie said, straightforward, nodding to herself. "Have to, for school. So I don't have tetanus or like, the plague."
"Another good detail to be aware of," the doctor acknowledged. He had plenty of experience dealing with uneasy patients. He usually found that allowing them to talk out their nerves helped greatly. "Thank you, your highness."
"And I'm not scared of needles," Marcie told him, before adding, "Not a wuss either, I don't faint looking at blood."
"That's quite brave, your highness," Doctor Berg said, watching as the girl took a pause in what she believed was important for him to know. He didn't press her to keep speaking, but instead, recognizing the patient's need to be in control, stated, "Would you allow me to see your cut?"
"Um…" Marcie's eyes flitted up to Ariel and Eric, looking for an assurance that she would not be hurt. Last she saw this man, Ariel was on the verge of hysterics, and he wasn't sure how to control it. Yet, it was Ariel who now gave her the encouraging look.
Marcie took in a deep breath. "Okay, fine."
She extended her hand to him, taking the pressure off. The bleeding had since stopped, but her hands were covered in dried blood. The wound was across her palm, cutting across diagonally. It didn't look very deep from where Marcie was sitting.
Doctor Berg's face was inscrutable, but he did ask, "Can you move your fingers for me?"
Marcie slowly did as she was asked, each finger moving on her right hand. The doctor nodded, moving her hand around to look at the cut thoroughly. After a moment, he let her hand go, and said, "Well, you're in luck, Princess. I don't believe you'll be requiring sutures."
"Will it leave a scar?" Ariel's voice rang out, uncertain, despite the relief that the cut was not as bad as she had believed.
"Doubtful, but if it does, it will likely fade with time," Doctor Berg answered the Queen, walking back to a cabinet, and pulling out necessary implements.
"Tidal," Marcie said, brightening up at the idea.
Eric cocked his head at the word, asking warily, "Tidal?"
"Scars are cool," Marcie replied, examining the scratch on her hand thoughtfully. "I've got a bunch all over. My favorite's on my foot—I was trying to put a new string into Matt's piano, and it popped and hit me. Looks kinda like a snake."
"Do you play piano, your highness?" Doctor Berg asked politely, though really it was an ulterior motive to distract the teen. Already he could see how conversation had relaxed her.
"Didn't you hear the piano, not too long ago?" Eric asked, as the doctor tilted his head slightly, then nodded, heading back to his patient with his tools. "That was Harmony."
He sounded proud, and looked it too, from what the teen could see. Something about the way he mentioned it made the teen's face go red. She tore her gaze from him, and looked back at the scratch. She would never admit it aloud, but there was a swell of achievement in her, like for the first time in this place, she'd finally done something right.
"It was absolutely lovely," Ariel chimed in. "What was the name of the song?"
Marcie looked up and over at her, unsure of how to respond. She grimaced, and said finally, "It wasn't a song. I was just, you know, messing around."
Doctor Berg took the girl's hand again, saying, "Ah, an original composition. Have you played for long?"
"Sorta. Whenever I could find time." Marcie answered, hissing as a washcloth with a strong-smelling liquid was used to clean off her wound.
"You must have a wonderful music teacher," Ariel said, sincere. She made a mental note to tell Sebastian of the girl's musical inclinations next she saw him. It would endear him to the girl, and Ariel knew he would be so pleased.
Marcie gave her a funny look. "I don't have a music teacher?"
Ariel blanched. "Then who taught you to play?"
"I did," Marcie said, shrugging. "Never had a real teacher, or even my own piano. Used to practice on the old piano in Matt's basement."
"But the way you were playing," Eric protested, suddenly floored. How had the girl never had access to a music education? Clearly it was an area she was gifted in. Why had no one followed up on her talents? "And composing your own music, at fourteen?"
"Matt's mom only had so many books. Once I finished them, had to play something else," Marcie explained, making a face as another foul-smelling liquid on a washcloth was put across her cut. "Figured I'd make my own up. Wasn't that hard."
"And Matt's mother couldn't teach you to play?" Eric asked, clearly still unable to grasp the idea that Marcie was completely self-taught.
"Nah," Marcie answered, twisting her lip in thought. Matter of factly, she stated, "His mom walked out when he was two. Left her piano behind and everything—I would've taken it."
"What do you mean she walked out?" Ariel asked, blinking wildly at the odd phrasing. "Walked out where?"
"I dunno," Marcie drawled, looking up, quite nonchalant about the idea. "She totally just picked up and never came back. That's what Caity told Matt, at least."
Ariel seemed to recoil at the notion. Made worse was the girl's frankness about the matter, as though she thought nothing of it. "But…how could his mother just leave?"
"Didn't wanna be around anymore, I guess," Marcie answered, casually, as though waving off the idea. "Matt's dad did a good enough job, till he married the Stepmonster, anyway."
"Stepmonster," Eric rolled the term in his mind for a moment, before it dawned on him. "You mean, he remarried, and your friend Matt has a stepmother."
Marcie shook her head. "Uh-uh. She's a Stepmonster. I haven't been able to play in, like, two years, since she got rid of the piano."
"But…why?" Ariel wondered, apprehension now back in her voice.
"Throw it!" Marcie ordered, digging the baseball bat into the earth, before swinging it over her shoulder.
"Coming up!"
A porcelain plate, with little green curls on the edges, flew to where she stood like a frisbee. The twelve-year-old easily connected the metal bat to the fine china, smashing it into pieces. She looked down, anger causing her hands to grip the bat tighter, and look up with furious, wet eyes.
"Another one!" She demanded, and though Matt instantly reached into the box, it was Emma's hand that shot out, stopping him.
"Don't you guys think you've broken enough?" She wondered, wincing at the carnage of broken pieces. Marcie's aim had been impeccable. "Shouldn't we leave a couple for her?"
"No," Matt replied, staunchly. He was almost as angry as Marcie. "She chopped up my mom's piano into little bits, and threw away all the books! That's my mom's stuff—she had no right!"
"I know, but—" Emma winced as this time, Matt threw a teacup, and Marcie's swing was spot on again. "We're just as bad as she is if we break all her stuff! This is her family heirlooms!"
"Look," Matt answered, digging out a gravy boat, and judging its weight in his hand. "Marcie cried when she saw pieces of the piano stuffed into trash bags. Marcie never cries. The Stepmonster did that. She deserves everything coming to her."
"What are you gonna do with the pieces?" Emma asked, her eyes following the path the gravy boat took to Marcie's bat. She flinched when it cracked in midair. "You can't just leave them in my backyard."
"Marcie said she's gonna put them in a trash bag and leave it for the Stepmonster," Matt answered, assured in the plan. He reached into the box, this time pulling out a teapot. "That way, she knows what it's like to have something you love destroyed."
Marcie's bit back the words she wanted to say. The Stepmonster had it out for her the moment she called her a cow. She knew better than to call people names, but what else could she have done? She had to stick up for Matt.
Instead, the teen changed the subject, saying, "I'm sorry, for playing your guys' piano. It's just…the door was open, you know? And I haven't played in so long…I swear I was really careful not to mess it up."
"There's nothing to apologize for," Ariel answered, surprised. "You play wonderfully. It was a treat."
"Do you really think I play good, or are you guys just sayin' so?" Marcie wondered, chewing on her lip nervously. "Because if you're only sayin' so, 's okay. You don't have to lie. I'm not a little kid, my feelings aren't gonna be hurt. I was only messing around, anyway."
Ariel wasn't sure how to respond, taken aback at the statement. Did the girl not know how talented she was? No, of course not, she was, by her own omission, entirely self-taught.
"You play well," Eric insisted. "Very well, in fact."
"So…you're not mad that I was in there, touching stuff that doesn't belong to me?" Marcie wondered, putting out the statement hesitantly, as though testing the waters to see if she had this correct.
"No one is mad," Ariel assured her, reaching out on instinct for the girl's other hand. Marcie pulled it back; Ariel's face fell, and guilt gnawed at her. Still, Ariel swept away her disappointment well, and continued. "I think we'd both prefer if you were more careful when running through the halls, though."
"Yeah. Sorry about your vase. Again." The teen waited a beat, before asking, awkwardly, "Was it important?"
Ariel opened her mouth to reply, then closed it. She wasn't sure. She looked back to Eric, who was now standing closer them in the room, and who shrugged. He didn't know. Quite frankly, he didn't care.
"If I had a gold coin for every time I broke something in this palace growing up…" Eric decided to answer, still watching the scene from where he stood, near the doorway.
Marcie's eyes became wary behind her glasses. "What'd they do to you when you broke stuff?"
"I got punished," Eric explained, and Marcie nodded, solemnly, her shoulders dropping.
Her voice became small and she gazed steadily at her hands. She was old enough to know what he meant. "Okay. What's my punishment?"
"I got punished because I usually hid the remains under a carpet; I didn't take responsibility for my actions," he explained further. She looked up at him; he gave her a half smile. "The point is, accidents happen. But admitting it was an accident, and learning from it, that's how we avoid repeating the same mistakes in the future."
"So…for sure, you're not mad?" She got two nods, one from each of them. "And I'm not in trouble?"
It was Ariel's turn to smile; she agreed with Eric. No use in punishing the girl when she'd punished herself enough already. Besides, maybe this way they'd finally turn the tide with the her. She was just about to say as much when there was a knock at the infirmary.
"Excuse me, your majesties," a maid cut in, suddenly appearing at the door, curtseying slightly, apologetic. She held Marcie's book in one hand, and a letter in the other. Marcie noticed both Eric and Ariel become stiffer, almost more formal at title. "There's a message from Lady Terven, for the Queen."
"Oh, great," Ariel brightened, extending her hand, and graciously accepting the letter from the young woman.
The maid seemed unsure what to do with the book she was still holding. She held it up for all to see. "This was also left by the broken vase. I think it's the Princess's?"
"I'll take it," Eric offered, before Marcie could get a word in edge wise. Her anxiety spiked as he took the book from the maid, and seemed surprised as to its unusual weight. He read the front cover, and looked at Marcie with an eyebrow raised. "You're still reading about the kingdom's myths and legends? You've had it a few days, I thought by now you would have been done with this book."
"Slow reader," Marcie answered, trying to sound nonchalant about it. Seeing Coral a few times a week afterschool was the only thing she now looked forward to. Besides, how could she explain to these people that mermaids were real? "Can I go now? I still gotta go clean up the pieces. I can't leave broken glass out."
"It was taken care of already, Princess," the maid answered, her tone assuring.
"Oh." Was all Marcie managed. She would have cleaned it up herself. She wasn't used to having someone else pick up after her.
"Is there anything else your majesties need?" The maid asked, appropriately waiting for her dismissal.
"No, thank you," Ariel answered, looking up from the letter she had opened. The maid nodded, curtseying once again, before leaving. Ariel looked over at her husband, asking pointedly, "Eric, Henrietta is asking if we're going to her annual tulip bloom party."
"In spring?" Eric asked, arching a brow in disbelief.
Ariel nodded. "You know she likes to start planning early."
"This is early, early, even for her," Eric responded, puzzled at the idea.
"Well, she wanted to make sure because, ah, our plans might have changed," Ariel put it in delicate terms, but there was no mistaking what she was speaking about. Marcie was the thing that had changed; she was the thing that had thrown their lives out of whack.
The girl fidgeted; Eric took notice. "Have you ever been to a tulip bloom party, Harmony?"
The teen frowned. She knew he was talking to her. But she really disliked the sound of a name that didn't feel like hers. "I've never seen tulips, 'cept in like, old gardening books. They don't grow on the prairie."
"Oh, they're beautiful," Ariel stated, excitedly. "They come in all types of colors, and Henrietta has these huge gardens and there's flowers as far as you can see. I'll tell we'll all go, as a family. It's Melody's favorite event."
Go as a family? Marcie forced herself to crack a weak smile. She didn't want to throw cold water on Ariel or Eric any further, be a bigger disappointment than she already was. Besides, she reminded herself, in spring she'd probably be long gone. Ariel probably meant when she came to visit they'd go see the tulips.
Probably.
"I'm finished, your highness," Doctor Berg said, mildly.
Marcie, however, was happy to have her hand back. She moved her fingers, and stretched her palm out. Not too bad, definitely manageable. Since it wasn't her left hand, it wouldn't keep her from doing homework with Coral later. She should have mentioned to the doctor not to bother being so careful in how he'd wrapped up her hand; she was going to rip it off by tomorrow anyway. She hated looking injured.
"Nice, thanks," Marcie muttered, still moving her fingers around, feeling the odd cloth of the bandage across her skin. Matt would've called her a baby if she'd shown up with this thing on her hand back at home.
"It does look good," Ariel admired, before straightening up. "And speaking of, Doctor Berg, I think I can have this removed now, correct?"
Ariel pushed up her sleeve, revealing a similarly bandaged wrist. Marcie felt another twinge of guilt; another thing that was her fault.
Doctor Berg looked over, making a sound at the back of his throat, before asking, "How long has it been?"
Both Marcie and Eric answered at the same time; Eric's, a protest, and Marcie, an exact account.
"Not long enough."
"Twenty days, tomorrow is three weeks."
Three sets of adult eyes turned to the teenager, who shrank under the weight of them. No one quite expected her to be so…sure. Her face turned the shade of her hair, and she tucked her head down, suddenly engrossed with the embroidery on her dress.
"Doctor Berg," Eric started, pleadingly. "It's a broken wrist—"
"Sprained," Ariel interjected, correcting him.
"—and she's going to say it doesn't hurt—"
"It doesn't," once again Ariel jumped in, to correct the record.
"—but she's not going to tell you that yesterday she was complaining that it still felt sensitive."
"I wasn't complaining," Ariel defended, affronted at the notion. "I was telling him that once the bandage came off, it would probably be sensitive for a few days."
"What's an extra week, just to make sure?" Eric ignored her, addressing the doctor directly.
"An extra week is fine when you don't have to have it on," she declared haughtily, leveling him with a look that he chose to ignore.
"Hm…" was all Doctor Berg said, taking everything into account. Of course, medically, he knew what his opinion was. But out of curiosity, and just for a bit of fun, he decided to get a second opinion. "Princess, what do you think?"
Marcie's head flew up, staring at the doctor as though he'd grown a second head. "Me?" She pointed to herself; the doctor nodded. "I'm only a kid. I don't know anything about this kinda stuff."
"Neither does your father, but that doesn't seem to stop him," Ariel answered, clearly directing her frustrations towards her husband. "Doctor Berg, it's fine, really. Look, see, I can move my wrist perfectly fine."
Ariel twirled her wrist as though to show that it was fine, slowly, deliberately. Doctor Berg responded, "I'm directing this one to the Princess, your majesty. I'm curious to know her opinion."
Marcie stared at him, doubtfully. Was this a trick? She shook her head. "Don't look at me. I've got a C in bio right now."
"You never know when having a base knowledge of diagnosing a break, or sprain, will come in handy," the doctor answered, mildly.
"I know—" Marcie caught herself before she said she knew how both felt. Last time she claimed to have had concussions Ariel had panicked. She sighed; she wanted to leave already. "You actually wanna know what I think?"
"What do you think, Princess?" Doctor Berg asked again, kindly, warmly, prodding the girl.
Marcie took a moment, before looking directly at Ariel. "Your wrist totally still hurts but you don't wanna say so because wearing this thing sucks."
Ariel blinked. She flitted her eyes across to Doctor Berg, who inclined his head towards the teen. She hadn't expected that as an answer.
"Sweetheart," she started, slowly, sweetly. She wouldn't look the girl in the eye. "I promise, it doesn't hurt."
Eric snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. She shot him a look that could have curdled dairy. She was so close to being over this injury, if she could just convince her daughter, then maybe, just maybe—
"How much do you promise?" Marcie asked, quizzically analyzing Ariel, raising a brow. She looked so much like Eric that Ariel felt her heart lurch. "Cross your heart and hope to die?"
"I—I, well, I—" Ariel faltered, unable to do so.
The last time the girl had asked her to swear, she'd lied. But that was the only lie she kept reiterating to the girl. Perhaps, Ariel reasoned silently with herself, looking at the teenager, one day she'd forget all about Earth, and her ever growing lie would simply be forgotten. Until then, Ariel had no intentions of lying further.
Her shoulders dropped. She pouted. "Alright, I'm outvoted, you three win. One more week. One."
"A good idea, your majesty," Doctor Berg responded, as Ariel resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him, and pushed her sleeve back down.
As she did, she saw the girl smiling. Not a grand smile, but a half-smile that looked so much like Eric's that it nearly startled Ariel. When was the last time the teenager had smiled? Had she even seen the girl smile?
"Can I go now?" Marcie asked again, not wasting time once Doctor Berg nodded. She swung her legs off the infirmary bed, jumping down.
"I take it you want this?" Eric asked, holding the large tome up for the girl to see.
She nodded eagerly, hesitating only for a moment, before taking it from him. He noticed, briefly that it looked to have things stuffed within it, papers, and maybe even pens. He wondered what she was up to.
"If you haven't had breakfast yet, Louis probably wouldn't mind making you something," Eric said, before the girl could rush out and it was anyone's guess when they'd see her again. He was confident the teen was starting to come around.
"'S okay, I'm not really hungry." She said, before biting her lip, and using her free hand to push up her glasses. "But, uh, maybe I'll see you guys at lunch?"
Lunch. An olive branch. A bridge to make things better. Ariel wasn't sure whether to cry or squeeze the girl in relief.
"I think we'd like that, Harmony," Ariel answered, her voice tightly controlled. It wasn't as hard as she thought it be to use her name.
"Uh…well, bye." The girl said, quickly, before she was gone, off again to some other corner of the palace, pressing the book against her tightly. Maybe today she'd finally be able to write her first full sentence in Atlantican.
Disclaimer: Ariel, Eric, Melody, 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.