"Stop pulling me," Marcie snapped, yanking her arm away. "I'm not a little kid who's gonna get lost."

"Stop falling behind," Melody retorted, with a huff. "Mom and Dad said we had to stay together. I'm following instructions."

Marcie gave her a frosty glare. "I don't even wanna be doing this. I've got shoes already."

"One, you have one pair of shoes," Melody answered, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. Why did she have to make things so complicated? A day in the village was supposed to be fun. "And they look worn out."

"There's no holes in 'em," Marcie answered, still a bit snippy as she rubbed her wrist from where Melody had yanked her, and examined the scabbing-over cut on her hand. "Besides, I got 'em off Caity, just last…I mean, right before…"

She couldn't finish, the words stuck in her throat. Melody gave her a funny look, and she turned her head to focus on a busy shop in the corner, with bread and cookies in the window. A whole three-and-a-half weeks since she'd been here.

Had they called off the search for her by now, assumed she was gone forever? Had they even started a search, or assumed that she'd runaway? No, not a runaway—she would never have left without telling Adam, Em, or Caity, and especially not without telling Matt. It was already mid-November, by her count. Thanksgiving was right around the corner, and snow could arrive at any minute. Adam's car wasn't sturdy on the ice, she knew. He wouldn't keep driving around if conditions were bad, would he?

"The cobbler is right up ahead," Melody continued, ignoring the girl's oddities. "If we're quick then we can get lunch. I'm already hungry."

They'd barely spoken since the girl refused to come back to her lessons. The redhead like to disappear to corners of the palace grounds all day, and even though Melody had seen her at the beach, she always seemed preoccupied, scribbling something or other.

At first, she had been thrilled with her parents' lack of attention, but lately…Melody was missing how overbearing they could be. A seed of jealousy was starting to form in the notion that it seemed like her parents preferred the redhead over her. Certainly seemed like it, from the way every conversation focused on Harmony.

Dash had suggested she invite the girl to meet her friends, perhaps that would be a good way to break the ice. Tip had suggested she push the girl into the water, where, as fortune would have it, he would be swimming through, see her thrashing, save her, and be hailed a hero.

Needless to say, she was not going with Tip's idea.

"Fine," Marcie responded, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. "Why do we have to go to town together, anyway? We're old enough to know how to look both ways when crossing the street."

"Mom and Dad are overprotective," Melody shrugged, looking slightly, curiously, at Marcie. "Back home, are you allowed to go to town by yourself?"

"Yeah, of course," Marcie answered, a sense of pride in her voice. "Grownups don't tell me what to do. I'm practically an adult.

"You mean, you don't have to ask for permission?" Melody wondered, taken aback at the notion. "You can go wherever you want, whenever you want?"

"Day and night," Marcie answered in the affirmative. "Me, Matt, and Em, none of our folks aren't 'round much, so we're practically raising each other. 'S not hard, and we can do whatever we want."

Melody felt unsure. One the one hand, she was reminded of a story her mother had told her, that she and Aunt Alana had a friend whose parents allowed the young woman to do as she pleased, and they realized that they much preferred a father who cared rather than parents who didn't. On the other hand…having so many freedoms sounded amazing.

"That sounds like it's a lot of…" Melody felt torn, but ultimately went with the safe answer of, "Responsibility."

"Nah, it's easy," Marcie responded, pulling the cloak's hood tighter over her hair, as they entered in the shop. "No one bothers us much."

Melody pursed her lips, but said nothing in response. The cobblers shop was warm, and she pulled down her own hood, smoothing down her dark ponytail instinctively. The smell of leather was strong in the air, and tools were laid out on stools and benches. She snuck a look at Harmony, who seemed intrigued at the workshop.

"Hi!" A bright voice called from the back. "Picking up something?"

"No, we're here for…for…" Melody's voice trailed off, ending on more of a squeak than anything else.

A boy around their age had come out from a backroom, and was smiling at her. His hair was dark, curly, cut short, but his eyes were a warm brown and inviting. A few inches taller than the girls before him, he was lanky, but his arms had definite muscle tone underneath his work shirt.

In all, he was handsome.

"For…?" He drawled, looking over at them quizzically.

Marcie looked over at Melody, thick red brows raised, before it seemed to dawn on her. Her face twisted as though she was holding back laughter. She pushed her glasses up her nose. "Shoes. I need new shoes."

"Oh, that's easy," the boy said, extending his hand. "Dan. Short for Daniel. What's your name?"

"Marcie, short for Marcella," the teen said easily, shaking his hand pleasantly. Finally, someone with a normal greeting! "This is my…friend, Mel."

"Is she okay?" Mark wondered, scrutinizing the other girl. "She looks a little pale."

"She's alright," Marcie said, clearly finding the entire situation amusing. "Doesn't get out much."

"Oh, well, okay then," Dan responded, a little lost as to what else to say. He straightened up. "Mr. Seeve is out right now, but I'm his apprentice. I can take down your order, and Mr. Seeve'll send the bill when the shoes are delivered."

Marcie looked over to Melody once again, but finding the girl to still be tongue tied, decided to take control of the situation. "Do you deliver the bill?"

"Yes," Dan said, his features turning sour at the idea, adding conspiratorially, "But I get to keep any extra coins, if I get any. The rich customers almost never give any."

Marcie giggled. Melody stared at her. What kind of noise was that? "I know! Doesn't make any sense, right? Whenever I shovel snow, I get the worst money from rich people."

"We don't get snow in this part of Elsemaine?" The boy replied, scrutinizing her, asking, "Are you from the countryside?"

"Yeah," Marcie cleared her throat, hoping he wouldn't ask too many questions. It was too messy. "But, like, far away from here."

"Are you in town visiting family?" Dan wondered, politely. Marcie nodded, and he sighed, wistfully. "I wish I could travel."

"Not all it's cracked up to be, trust me," Marcie answered, dryly. Her eyes wandered, looking round the shop, before settling back at the boy. "You been working here long?"

"A whole year," he answered, proudly, his chest puffing out slightly. "One day, I'll have my own shop."

"Neat," Marcie answered, tilting her head slightly to the side, before asking, "You made any seven and a half's?"

The boy blinked. "Seven and a half's what?"

"Shoes," Marcie said, frankly, propping up one foot to show him. "Size seven and a half shoes."

The boy blanched at the foot. "What kind of shoe is that?"

"They're sneakers," Marcie explained, frowning lightly. "For every day stuff, like, school, and running around."

"I've never seen shoes like that before!" Dan exclaimed, wide eyed, starting down at Marcie's feet. She retracted her foot, and shifted her weight to the other one. He looked a little scared for a moment, asking, "Do you need more like that?"

"Nah," Marcie said, her gaze traveling to Melody for a moment. She knew Ariel had given the other girl a list of shoes she "needed". But Melody still looked like a deer in headlights. An idea came to mind. "Actually, I really need new snow boots."

"Oh, thank goodness," Dan muttered, relieved. He wasn't sure how he'd begin on shoes that were so foreign to what he was used to. "Does, um, your friend need shoes too?" He asked, looking down at the other girl's shoes for a moment, equally relieved to find that they were normal.

"Nope, only me," Marcie said, giving him half-smile.

"That's not too bad then," the boy said, now growing in confidence. "Have you ordered shoes from Mr. Seeve before?"

"I haven't," Marcie said, before nodding her head in Melody's direction. "But Mel has. Tell him, Mel."

Melody's eyes flew open. She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. She bit her lip, looking concerned, and her gaze went to the floor. Her cheeks burned as bright as Marcie's hair.

Dan looked at the other girl, expectantly. But when she said nothing after a minute, he looked back at Marcie. "Are you sure, she's alright?"

"Like I said, doesn't get out much," Marcie reiterated, sidestepping his concern. "If you don't have seven and a half snow boots, what do you have?"

"Mr. Seeve makes most of the shoes himself," Dan returned, before biting his lip, and looking off to a shelf. "But I've made a couple of pairs, by myself. Boots are the easiest."

"Got any that'll fit me?" The girl wondered, tilting her head to the side, examining the shelf from afar.

"You," the boy blinked, unsure of what he was hearing. "You would want boots that I made?"

Marcie shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

"But I'm just an apprentice," Dan protested, concerned. He didn't want to get in trouble! "Mr. Seeve does most of the work."

"So?" Marcie challenged, squinting at him through her glasses. "You saying your boots are bad?"

"No!" The boy was quick to say, shaking his head. He looked rather upset, his shoulders dropping. "Just that…no one want's an apprentice's work. No one thinks I'm good enough."

Melody put her hand on Marcie's arm, and the girl shook it off. She didn't take pity on him, but rather, she understood what he was alluding to. "Back home, I get told I'm not good enough at anything either. Misfits stick together."

Dan looked at her, this girl in a hooded cloak, with steely determination in her eyes. She was strong and fierce. She would not take no for an answer, it seemed. He found that he quite liked her resolve. And her ice-blue eyes.

"I think I have a pair that will fit," he said suddenly, nearly tripping over himself to run back to the shelf. "If you don't like them, that's okay, I can always put in your order with Mr. Seeve, but…"

The boy ran back to the girls, a pair of boots in his hand, shoving them out to Marcie. "Try them on!"

Marcie looked at the shoes as she accepted them. She could feel the leather, soft between her fingers. The inside had some type of wool, she guessed, dyed to a cinnamon color. The leather stopped halfway down the boot, only for the laces, until it made way for a harder material, sturdier. The entire bottom of the shoe was patterned, as though to give the snow more grip. The laces were stiff, but bent easily to give Marcie room as she slid her foot out of her Converse, and into this boot.

She wiggled her toes around, and looked up with a grin. Mark looked like he was about to hear the worst news of his life. "They fit good. I'll take 'em."

"Really?" The boy said, perking up, as though he had never expected this reaction, not in a million years. "I know they're not as fancy as what Mr. Seeve can make but—"

"I like 'em the way they are," Marcie said simply, and it was true. She could wear these back home, and no one would look twice. Her feet would be warm, she would blend in, and all's well that end's well. "They're actually kinda comfy."

"I did treat the leather longer than what Mr. Seeve said to do, to make them softer," Dan admitted, rather guiltily. "Mr. Seeve said no one would want them like this."

"I want them," Marcie said clearly, pulling her foot out of the shoe, and dropping down to slip back on her Converse. "How much?"

"Um…" Dan swallowed hard, not quite sure on a price. Definitely not as high as Mr. Seeve, but enough to make himself look prominent. "Five silver pieces?"

Marcie looked up at Melody, not sure what that meant. Melody looked up, bugged eyed, her mouth opening again, but no sound coming out. Marcie stood up, and rolled her eyes, reaching into the girl's cloak pocket, pulling out a small coin purse.

"Here," Marcie said, giving the boy his required money, and gathering her new boots. She held them close to her chest, as though afraid to ever put them down again. New boots, all for her! She might as well have hit the jackpot.

"Thank you….Marcie, right?" Dan said, looking at her with amazement in his eyes. Then, he shook it off, as he realized the other girl, her friend was trying to get her out of the shop. "Wait, what's your last name? Where do you live? Where are you staying?"

"Thanks for the boots, Dan!" Marcie hollered gleefully over her shoulder.

Melody didn't stop pushing until there were at least a block away from the shop, at which time, her voice miraculously returned and she said, "Are you crazy?"

Marcie looked at her curiously. "No. Why?"

"You were flirting with him!" Melody declared, incensed at the whole spectacle. Her voice lowered to a harsh whisper as she hissed, "Princess's don't flirt with apprentices!"

Marcie gave her a frank look, and then burst out laughing. "I wasn't flirting."

"You bought his shoes!"

"I liked his shoes," Marcie answered, looking down at the boots, pressing them closer to herself, protectively. "They're nice looking."

"Mother didn't even write boots on the list!" Melody said, pulling the paper out form her cloak pocket, waving it the redhead's face. "And we don't get snow in this part of Elsemaine!"

"Well, maybe I'm over-prepared then," Marcie said, easily, pushing Melody's hand away. "You weren't talking, so I went a little off-script. Instead of ten shoes I didn't need, now I've got one pair I do need."

"I wasn't talking because I was…I wanted to speak to an adult!" Melody said, lifting her chin haughtily, trying to impress the other teen with her lie.

Marcie snorted. "You weren't talking because you can't talk to boys."

Melody looked incensed, although her ears burned from embarrassment. "That's not true!"

"It totally is," Marcie responded, her eyes now taking on an amused, satisfied glint. "You're afraid of boys our age. I dunno why—they're all morons."

"You're wrong!" Melody declared, stomping her foot for good measure, and crossing her arms stubbornly. "And at least I don't go around flirting with boys! You're going to get a reputation as a flirt, and then no one will marry you!"

"Ronnie said I shouldn't be friends with you, because you're a girl," Matt said, taking a giant bite out of his peanut butter and banana sandwich. "Want some?"

Marcie made a face as the insides of the sandwich oozed out. "Uh-uh."

"I told Ronnie to shut-up and then he said he was gonna tell the grown-ups," Matt kept speaking, thoughtful as any eight-year-old could be. "So I gave him my superhero eraser."

"What's wrong with being friends with a girl?" Marcie wondered, swinging her legs off the roof of the old barn. Tools surrounded them, as they took their lunch break in the summer sun.

"Ronnie says boys and girls can't be friends, on the count of, then you gotta marry them," Matt answered, chewing with his mouth open.

Marcie grimaced, shaking her head quickly. "I'm not gonna marry you!"

"That's what I said!" Matt declared, mouth still full. "But Ronnie said I'd have to if we're friends."

"Ronnie," Marcie said, sagely, picking up a hammer and a nail to get back to work. "Is an idiot.'

"Well, I'm not gonna get married anyway, so I guess it doesn't matter," Marcie replied, her voice now curt as frustration started to take hold. Why was Melody badgering her so much over a pair of shoes?

"Of course, you'll get married," Melody blinked, surprised at the odd statement. "You're a princess."

"So?" Marcie wondered, lifting a brow. "What does one have to do with the other?"

"Princesses always get married," Melody answered, keeping her voice low, eyes shifting around them to make sure no one overheard. "Besides, what about when you fall in love? Wouldn't you want to kiss him?"

Marcie made a face, her nose scrunching up. "Kissing boys and marrying them are two different things. Just because I kissed George Herring doesn't mean I have to marry him."

Melody felt her eyes grow wide, somewhat amazed and horrified. "You've kissed a boy?"

"Two boys, actually," Marcie said proudly, a note of bragging in her voice. Then, she frowned, now suspiciously looking at Melody. "Haven't you?"

"I…I…" Melody swallowed, a wave of shame and jealousy coming over her. Was she supposed to be kissing boys? Was that what other girls her age did? Was she weird? "Mother said I'm in charge of the purse. Give it back, please."

"Huh?" The subject change caught Marcie off guard. She looked around, felt for her own cloak pocket, and then looked in the boots. She brightened, pulling out, realizing that it must have fallen in. "Got it! Here. Are silver pieces a good deal on boots, by the way?"

"No," Melody answered, snatching the purse abruptly, her tone sour. She turned on her heel abruptly, the need to keep the redhead within her sights completely gone.

Marcie looked after her, then down at her boots, and then back to Melody. Her red brows pushed together in confusion. "What's her deal?"

Marcie pushed around the food on her plate. She'd been captured and ushered to the dining room. She said she wasn't hungry, but Carlotta didn't buy that excuse. The redhead made a mental note to be extra diligent in dodging the housekeeper.

She looked across the table, peeking to see if Melody had eaten any of the mushroom risotto. The girl's sour mood had not lifted since they left the shoemakers shop, even after they'd eaten lunch. It suited Marcie fine. Every conversation with Melody ended up in a game of twenty-questions. She missed laughing with Matt and Em about the little things, instead of explaining what she meant about everything.

"When should your shoes be delivered?" Ariel probed, eyes flickering between both girls, before settling on Harmony. Neither had spoken up much about how their day out in the village had been.

The redhead looked at Ariel, before turning her gaze back to her plate. Guilt started settle in. She was supposed to order exactly what was on the list provided, after all. Instead she had used their money for something else. She knew better than to mismanage money, to splurge when she shouldn't. She had a sinking feeling that maybe Melody had been right, and they were not going to be happy about it.

Ariel sighed, catching her husband's attention. She nodded over at both girls, making a face to him to do something. She had been at this for the last twenty minutes and had officially run out of questions. She wanted to know what was wrong with them.

"Um…" Eric started, stalling for time, trying to decide what to say. "Mel, did you show your sister around the village?"

"Why bother?" Melody muttered, abruptly, stirring her risotto around and around. She didn't look at her father with her answer. "She's just going to flirt with everyone anyway."

Marcie's head whipped up. It was clear the reference was to her, even if Melody hadn't said her name. "For the last time, I wasn't flirting."

"It sure looked like flirting," Melody muttered again, displeasure and jealousy rife throughout her tone.

"Seriously," Marcie said, exasperated, her eyes boring holes into Melody. "What's your issue?"

"I don't have one," Melody responded, pursing her lips, still refusing to look up.

Marcie stared at her, face hardening with annoyance. "Then get off my case. I've got enough going on as it is, I don't need your mood swings."

"I'm not having mood swings," Melody snapped, finally looking up, her spoon clattering against her plate. "You're the one who goes around flirting and kissing boys."

"Wait, what?" Eric spoke up, looking wildly panicked. The argument had ensued so fast that he had been struggling to keep up with the accusations until— "Who's kissing what?"

"Ask her," Melody said, directing her gaze towards Marcie.

"Honestly, what's your problem?" Marcie asked, frustration now apparent in her tone towards Melody. "I haven't done anything to you. You're the one who's got an attitude, for, like, zero reason."

"Maybe I do have a good reason," Melody shot back, bitterly. "Maybe I don't think you have the right intentions."

"Hang on," Eric cut in again, still swimming through the vitriol. "Someone explain what this all has to do with kissing."

"Melody, that's enough," Ariel warned, though her daughter gave her an irate look. Her tone immediately sharpened. "Do not look at me like that. I don't know what happened today, but—"

"What does that even mean?" Marcie questioned, tugging at her bracelet charm, clearly not understanding how this had all broken down. "What kind of intentions am I supposed to have?"

"You spent five silver pieces on a pair of snow boots all because you were flirting with the cobbler's apprentice," Melody returned, her pointed tone accusatory. "Princesses don't go around flirting and kissing and spending money that's not theirs."

"Can someone please tell me why kissing keeps coming up?" Eric begged to know, his eyes flipping between the three women at the table.

Ariel ignored him, pausing for a moment to levy a curious look at her redheaded daughter. "Is that true? You spent five silver pieces on snow boots? What happened to the list I gave Melody?"

"Look," Marcie drawled, now using her soon to point at Melody. Risotto dripped off, falling back into the bowl. "She couldn't talk to Dan, so I did. I'm not scared of boys."

"That much is apparent," Melody groused, her eyes falling back over to her plate.

Marcie cut the girl a look that could have curdled dairy, not that Melody was paying attention to her anymore. "Don't be mad that I'm normal."

"Normal people want to get married someday," Melody said decisively, a cutting blow to her sister.

Marcie took it in stride. "Seriously, it's my life, I can do what I want. Stay out of it."

"Why snow boots?" Ariel asked, ignoring the rest of the argument. She could address those issues later. "It hardly snows enough in Elsemaine to warrant snow boots."

"Because she was flirting with the cobbler's apprentice," Melody reiterated, knowing full well that she was piling on. She didn't care. Jealous and upset that the girl had shown up one of her biggest insecurities, she was lashing out wherever she could. "She wanted the boots he made."

"You flirted for boots an apprentice made?" Eric asked, bewildered. "Why?"

Marcie felt the heat of all their stares, Melody still incensed, Ariel perplexed, and Eric looking like he couldn't decide whether to be confused or terrified. Her face grew hot, red embarrassment spreading across her cheeks. She bit back her frustration, struggling to contain her feelings.

It all tumbled out before she could control herself. "I grew out of my snow boots last winter and Adam said there was no way we could afford new ones and my socks get wet because my sneakers get wet and everyone knows that's why Ms. McGrath assigned my seat closest to the heater last year even though we're not supposed to have assigned seats because freaking Syd had to tell the whole class my old man would rather spend money on a six-pack than on a new pair of shoes and that's why we're poor and—and—"

Three people stared at her, eyes wide, and slightly alarmed. Usually Marcie was able to keep it together, clam up, walk way before anyone could protest. This stumble was proof that a nerve had been hit. She could have cared less about the accusation of flirting, but she could not let the comments on the boots slide. She hadn't bought them for no discernable reason, after all.

Marcie groaned, her head thudding as it fell to the table. "Everybody happy now?"

"You're too poor to buy new shoes?" Melody asked, bluntly, sounding startled at the notion.

Marcie lifted her head slightly, looking at the girl incredulously. "Not everyone lives in a castle. Some of us have bills to pay."

"Boots aren't that expensive," Melody said again, suspiciously. "If you grew out of your old ones, and absolutely needed new ones, why wouldn't you—"

"Thanksgiving," Marcie cut in, sharply, before her head fell back to the table and she mumbled, "'S a holiday, you eat a lot and are thankful for stuff. Since Adam and Caity are gonna be in college next year, me and Matt were gonna pool everything together and have a good Thanksgiving, for them. I've been saving up forever, anything that was left over at the end of the month I've been putting away in a sock in the storm cellar, where Adam can't find it, 'cause otherwise he'd say it wasn't worth it."

There was a stunned silence at the table at her answer. It was such a refreshingly simple act of kindness from teenagers. It was a layer to the girl that no one had expected; what kind of fourteen-year-old decides to save their hard-earned money to throw a holiday for others? Especially when their other choice is to spend the money on something they needed?

"That's an awfully mature decision," Eric commented, blinking in surprise. He recalled the girl had offered "some money" she had saved up for the vase she had broken. He wondered, briefly, if that was all the money she had. Then, as an afterthought, he asked, "Are you sure it's worth it, to throw a holiday party for them when you need shoes?"

"Me and Matt want them to have something nice, for once," Marcie answered, not bothering to lift her head. "I didn't need a bunch of shoes today, but I figured if I had to get something, snow boots would be the best bet, you know, for when I go home."

The girl sighed, her voice growing soft now, as she said, "I'll pay you back, for the boots. And that vase I broke a few days ago. Matt'll understand. 'S all my money, anyway."

"No, save it," Ariel urged, entering into the conversation finally, shaking her head hurriedly. It's not like they needed to be repaid. "It's your money, and after all, it's not a bad idea to have an extra pair of boots in case of snow."

"It never snows in this part of Elsemaine, Mother," Melody pointed out, shrinking slightly under the annoyed look given to her by her Ariel. That look meant a later discussion about her behavior.

"It's okay," Marcie said, lifting her head, resigned. She stared at the table. "Me and Matt, we'll be fine. He wanted a new gaming system, anyway."

"But—"

"It's fine, it's my fault, I'll pay you guys back," Marcie answered, seriously. She wasn't upset, but rather accepting of the situation. She looked up briefly, at Ariel, then flickered her eyes to Eric, before her eyes fell back to her pushed away plate. She fiddled with the charm on her bracelet. "Please, don't be mad at me. I'll be better."

It was a similar plea from a few days prior, and again, Eric caught the fear in the girl's tone. Did she fear their reaction to a slip-up, think they were monsters who had some terrible punishment planned? Why was the girl always so quick to be so hard on herself? Accidentally running into a vase, buying a pair of shoes when she shouldn't have—these weren't crimes. It was a part of growing up.

What also seemed to be a part of growing up: the accusations, from Melody, that the girl had been flirting and kissing boys. But that was a separate conversation, hopefully one that Ariel would handle, because he knew that the chances of him remaining calm and impartial during it were slim to none.

"No one is mad," he answered, the second time he had to assure such a ridiculous thing to the girl. "Whatever happened in town today, whatever disagreement you two had, it doesn't matter. Apologize to each other and move on."

He thought he handled that situation rather well, until Ariel visibly cringed and face-palmed.

Melody, predictably, was outraged. "I did nothing wrong! And she said I was having mood swings!"

"Yeah, sorry about that," Marcie muttered, apologizing first.

It had been a cheap shot, and realistically, she was only sorry she hadn't thought of a better insult. But last time she refused to apologize to Lady Denshire, Ariel had gotten mad, and the purpose of this "sorry" was to not repeat that situation.

Eric gave Melody an imploring look. The girl huffed, crossing her arms over her chest, sullen. "Fine, I accept your apology. I'm sorry I said you don't have good intentions."

Marcie was silent, eyeing the food that had now grown cold—or was it always cold? She wasn't sure, it wasn't a dish she was particularly interested in eating.

"Harmony?" Eric asked pointedly, and the teen looked up at him, pushing her glasses up her nose. "Do you accept your sister's apology?"

Marcie didn't even have to think about this one. "No, sir."

Melody's jaw dropped. She whipped her head in direction of her father. "Dad, she can't do that! Can she?"

Both teens looked at Eric expectantly for an answer. He suddenly realized this was the situation Ariel was trying to avoid. Having grown up with sisters, she'd probably experienced this scenario. He felt adrift at sea, in a row boat, without oars. He'd been an only child, and for the last fourteen years, had raised Melody as an only child. These were not situations he knew how to handle.

He tried to be political about his answer. "Harmony, it would be nice if you accepted your sister's apology and moved on."

"I'm not doing that," the redhead answered, stubbornly. She looked directly at Melody. "I don't need her apology, or her in my life. I'm all set on people who don't tattle and don't get jealous over dumb things."

"I didn't ask for a sister!" Melody scowled, angrily narrowing her eyes across the table now.

"And I didn't ask to come here, join the club," Marcie shot back, darkly. "I liked my life the way it was, without you in it."

"Well if your old life was so great, why don't you just go back to it?" Melody returned, harsher than she had expected.

Marcie appeared to want to retort for a moment, her face upset, and then crumpling. Her shoulders fell, and she shook her head. She got up from her seat, her plate barely touched. "Forget this, I'm going to my room."

Eric didn't have it in him to explain to her that she had to ask permission to leave the table. Not only was it polite, but it was a level of respect afforded to them as monarchs, and parents. But her features appeared hurt, as though Melody had struck a cord. She was in pain.

Melody, however, was still vexed. She had clearly won the argument, so why did she feel so…mixed-up about it? She looked at her mother, who had been watching the exchange with concern, asking, "May I be excused?"

"Go ahead," Ariel sighed, waving her off. She tried to remind herself that this was another small bump in the road, a casualty of strong personalities clashing.

"Melody?" Eric knocked on the door, rapping his knuckles just loud enough for it to echo across the hall. "May I come in?"

"You can come in," came the quiet reply from the other side of the door.

Eric wasted no time. He opened the door quickly, shutting it behind him. He took stock of the room; it looked ordinary. Her schoolbooks had been tossed into a heap in the corner, a pair of mismatched shoes by the bed, and a collection of sand and shells were scattered across a writing desk.

"Hi, Dad," Melody mumbled, flashing her blue eyes upwards, before lowering them again. She traced her gold locket in her hands, tracing her fingers over its various grooves.

"Hi, Mel," Eric answered her, coming to her bed and taking a seat. "How are you feeling?"

Melody sighed, stretching her legs out before her. Her bare feet leaned against her father comfortably. "Not great."

Eric nodded. "I thought so."

Melody twisted her lips, looking up at Eric with serious eyes. "I wasn't trying to be mean. I didn't know she was poor."

Eric let out a long, controlled breath. So, this is where she wanted to start. "Generally, that's not a nice way to put it."

The teenager studied him, creasing her brows. "But it's the truth, isn't it? She said so herself, she couldn't afford to buy new boots."

"Harmony's had a lot of different experiences than you have," Eric tried to explain, neutrally, watching Melody's reaction.

He didn't want to let the conversation dwell on things he had only limited knowledge on; the most Harmony had ever elaborated on the difficult financial position she'd grown up in was tonight, and even then, it had only been related to boots.

Melody tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear, back into her ponytail, suddenly frustrated. "She's got experiences with boys. Boys don't even look in my direction."

"Is that what all this is about?" Eric wondered, confused. Could it be this simple? Did all of it boil down to teenage boys? "Melody, you're beautiful the way you are."

"Dad, you have to say that," Melody intoned, slightly annoyed as she blew out her bangs. "It's not only boys. The way she talks, about her home, it sounds like she has a great life. She's got a lot of friends, she does whatever she wants—one time she fell off a roof! I've never done anything that dangerous."

"Melody, you used to swim under the wall out to the sea," Eric responded, incredulously. The girl shrugged.

"Okay, maybe one dangerous thing. But she's got scars everywhere, Dad." Melody paused for a moment, looking back down at the locket, before muttering, "She doesn't even like the sea. I know the tabloids say she can't swim, but she could go to the beach and look for shells."

Eric raised a brow. His voice was disapproving. "You've been reading the tabloids?"

"Sometimes," Melody admitted. She knew her parents disliked the gossipy newspapers. "They're starting to call her Princess Anonymous, and they say you and Mom won't let anyone see her because she's half-feral."

"Half-feral?" Eric repeated to himself, derision in his tone. The papers could be ruthless in their theories. He decided to turn his words back to Melody, asking, "What do you think?"

"I think she'd like to be back at her home," Melody responded, easily. "And I think I wouldn't mind that either."

Eric decided to push further. At least one of his teenage daughters was willing to talk. "Why wouldn't you mind it?"

"Because everything is different now," Melody huffed, clearly irritated. "You and mom are always wrapped up in whatever she's doing, even when she's not doing anything."

Eric nodded, slowly, finally starting to understand. "You don't think we're splitting time equally between you two."

"Not really," she answered, truthfully. "I miss how things used to be."

"The past few weeks have had a lot of changes," Eric acknowledged, pushing a hand through his hair. "Honestly, Mom and I are figuring this out as we go along. We've all had a rough few weeks. We're not perfect; no one expected Harmony to come back."

"Is it mean to wish she hadn't, Dad?" Melody asked quietly, tilting her head, inquiring. She expected her father to be shocked at the statement, but he didn't seem that bothered by it.

Eric had actually decided to pause instead, processing, before asking, "Is that how you actually feel? If we sent her back tomorrow, would you really feel better?"

Melody inhaled sharply, before letting it go slowly. For a moment, she felt herself excite at the prospect of having her parents back; and then that moment ended. Ultimately, deep down, it didn't make her feel better. Her father had a point. "No."

"I thought so," he answered. Eric had known the answer before even asking the question; Melody was upset, but not cruel. "We really need your help here."

"My help?"

Eric nodded solemnly. "We need you to keep trying with your sister. Her entire life got upended in an afternoon. She'll come around."

"When, Dad?" Melody asked, clearly vexed. "She won't even accept my apology—I didn't even know you could do that! I never thought having a sister would be so frustrating."

Despite the seriousness of the conversation, Eric grinned. "Your mother has six, Mel, it could always be worse."

"Honey?" Ariel paused a moment, waiting for a response as she knocked on the door. There was none. She rapped her knuckles again, "May I come in?"

She pressed her lips together. Still no response. She tried the doorknob, and was surprised to find that the door opened. Well, that was good.

She opened the door slowly, in case a voice rang out to leave. But she was met with silence. Her eyes scanned the room; presents still grouped in the corner, untouched, but beside that, nothing was out of place. It still felt as it had weeks ago, cold and sterile.

She found the teenager she'd been looking for sitting crisscrossed in a nook of a window seat, next to a pair of heavy brown boots. She'd been writing something in a book, maybe doodling again, but when she heard Ariel's steps, she slammed the book shut, pushing it behind her. She looked at Ariel expectantly as she came closer, unwilling to be the first to speak.

"I knocked," Ariel declared, trying to dispel the mood that seemed to have settled around the room. "In case you didn't hear it, I knocked."

"Yeah," Marcie replied, acknowledging that she'd heard. She pushed her glasses up her nose, struggling to find something else to say. Ultimately she was unable to explain why she hadn't answered the door, apart from she hadn't wanted to discuss what happened earlier.

"Are those the shoes you got in the village today?" Ariel asked, finding a new topic of conversation, inclining her head in the direction of the boots.

Marcie's hand shot out, pushing the shoes closer to her, almost protective. Ariel caught a glimpse of the healing wound on the hand, but when the teen caught the direction of her eyes, she closed her hand into a fist.

Automatically, the girl said, "I'll pay you back for 'em, as soon as I get home."

"You really don't have to," Ariel assured. She took a step towards the girl; Marcie scooted back. Ariel sighed. "Alright. I wanted to talk about dinner."

"I'm not a little kid," Marcie answered seriously, her ice-blue eyes holding steady. "You don't have to come talk to me after to see if I'm okay."

"Are you okay?" Ariel asked, trying to get a sense of where the girl was at. Marcie gave her a look that spoke volumes. Ariel winced. "Right. Sorry, bad question. I meant, ah, um, why don't we change the conversation? Melody mentioned you two were talking about…boys, today?"

Marcie shrugged in response.

"Well, it seemed like there may have been, ah, a discussion about…kissing." Ariel tried to be diplomatic on the topic, less she give away the dread she felt at the conversation. "I, um, I wasn't sure…I know you're fourteen, I understand you're not little but…"

Marcie stared at her. Really? That's what she came in here for? She wanted to have this talk? "I know the mechanics of how babies are made."

"Oh, good." Ariel looked visibly relieved. Briefly, she felt a pang of hurt, but pushed it away. She may not have been the one that had that discussion with her daughter, but she was here now, and that's what mattered. "Then all this talk about kissing and boys was…?"

"It's totally normal to have your first kiss at thirteen, Caity said so," Marcie answered, matter-of-factly.

"You have kissed a boy then?" Ariel asked, starting to grow worried now. The girl was fourteen, practically still a child, and she was already kissing? She hadn't even thought about boys until she'd met Eric, much less kissed anyone!

"Everyone in my grade was becoming boyfriend-girlfriend last year. I wasn't gonna be the only one who'd never kissed anyone," Marcie answered, quite unimpressed with the whole thing.

Truthfully, kissing someone between classes and then running away hadn't exactly felt romantic, but it had gotten the job done. It felt like she'd finally crossed that threshold from childhood into her teenage years. Besides, everyone had kissed someone last year. Matt had kissed Hallie at the end of year dance, and Emma had even, briefly, been dating Brett!

After a moment of these thoughts, Marcie decided to add further context to her situation. "I only kissed George this year to tick off Syd because of that stunt she pulled with the canned food drive last year."

"I don't know if kissing someone because of peer pressure or to upset someone else is the right way to be going about it," Ariel returned, biting her lip. Truthfully, this territory she knew little about as she had spent her time as a teenager exploring shipwrecks, not teenage boys.

She swallowed hard. "I wanted you to know that if you have any questions…about, uh, any of…"

Marcie seemed to take a few seconds to consider where her thought process had been going, before conceding. "I do have one question, if that's okay."

"Of course, we can talk about…anything," Ariel responded, feeling the color returning to her face, but now in the form of a deep blush.

"Well," Marcie started, pushing the loose glasses up her nose again, and studying Ariel as she continued. "Matt's older sister, Caity? She says that virginity is a social construct created and furthered by the patriarchy to be used as an oppressive tool."

The girl paused, briefly, puzzled as she looked at Ariel. "I don't know what that means?"

"Ariel? Are you in here?"

Eric poked his head into the library, having been informed that that was the last place his wife had been seen. It was also the last place he would have expected her to be. She wasn't exactly one for schooling.

"Over here," her voice rang back, from high above. His eyes travelled upwards, finding her at the top of a ladder, running her finger across the spines of the books above. "Eric, how many books are in this library?"

"A few thousand, I guess?" He answered, his eyes trailing across the tower, all the way to the top, which was bursting full of books. He finally settled on his wife, shaking his head, and walking over to where she was on the ladder. Her long red hair had already been braided, and her dressing gown had been thrown loosely around her nightgown. "Why? What's on your mind?"

"Thousands of books," she repeated instead, pursing her lips, running her finger now through the shelf of books above the one she had been perusing. Still, no luck in finding anything close to what she needed. She made a frustrated noise. "I'm going to be here all night at this rate!"

"I take it your talk didn't go so well?" Eric wondered, resting an elbow on the ladder, looking up at her.

Ariel gave a deep sigh, looking down at him briefly, before returning to the books. She decided to pull one out as the title suggested it may have an answer she needed. "I asked her about kissing boys."

"And?" He returned warily, bracing for an answer that would turn his stomach.

"She asked me about virginity being a social construct," Ariel replied, opening the book now and flipping through its pages. "And then something about patriarchy and oppression? She'd heard it off her friend, Matt, his older sister."

Eric's brows shot up. Certainly, that was not the answer he'd expected. "What did you say?"

Ariel snapped the book shut, agitated, shoving it back into its place on the shelf. It hadn't given her even a starting point. "I stammered a lot. Then I told her it was nearly curfew and to get some rest."

"Where did that question even come from?" Eric wondered, his eyes growing in alarm as he then responded, somewhat rattled, "Wait, was she asking about—"

"No, she said she already knew how the mechanics worked," Ariel said, now pulling a different book. "I asked her if she had any questions, and that was her question, what her friend's sister meant."

She gritted her teeth, angrily snapping this book shut, and forcing it back into the shelf as well. "I'm her mother, I'm supposed to have these answers. And instead I stood there and told her to go to sleep because I don't even know what that means."

Ariel huffed, squaring her shoulders, and shooting down at her husband an annoyed look. "You know, this is your fault."

"My fault?" Eric questioned, looking at her disbelievingly. "You suggested I take Melody because you wanted to speak to Harmony about kissing and boys. I said I didn't mind handling it."

"You would have sworn her off men forever," Ariel responded, reproach in her tone.

"That's not true, I would have explained to her when she could start courting," Eric returned, affronted at the accusation she was leveling at him.

"Alright," Ariel conceded momentarily, sinking to sit on the ladder, her bare toes curling on the wood beneath her for support. "When can she start courting, Eric?"

"Never," he said, so quickly that it was almost like a reflex.

She shook her head. "And that's why I said I'd take her. I thought we'd have a pleasantly awkward chat about, you know, "mechanics". Instead, I practically had a cannonball lobbed at me."

She sighed again, this time the anger in herself dissipating. "I didn't have a mother to talk to me about these things. I wanted it to be different for my daughter."

Eric shoulders dropped. He knew how the absence of her mother had weighed on her childhood. "Who taught you about it?"

"Alana," Ariel said, pausing for a moment, and then reconsidering her answer. "Well, and then Carlotta, the night before our wedding."

He leaned on the ladder, slowly becoming amused now. "Really, the night before our wedding? And what did you and Carlotta speak about?"

Ariel shot him another look. "Don't start, you know very well what she said. You were hiding under the bed the entire time."

"Only because you thought there was possibility she would open the wardrobe," Eric answered, inclining his head slightly, laughing when Ariel turned a smidge pink in embarrassment.

"Well, she did open the wardrobe, so my instinct was right," she returned, turning her face away to hide the blush. "You weren't even supposed to be in my room, and especially not that late."

"If I recall correctly, Ariel, I only came to say goodnight. You were the one who dragged me in." He said, and despite herself, she smiled at the memory, though she tried desperately to hide it.

"I did not drag you in," she said, stubbornly. "I…I gently moved you from the hallway."

"Right, from the hallway, into your room, while your lips were firmly planted on mine," he corrected, extolling her with the salacious details she had so carefully left out.

"'Fine, alright, I'll admit that was a close one and it was on me," she conceded, finally, the redness now finally leaving her face. "But we wouldn't be in this mess with boys and kissing and teenagers if it weren't for you.

"How do you figure?"

"I was having a perfectly good day until you started flirting with me," she answered, her eyes narrowing at him. "And then, nine months later, we had twins, and fourteen years later, we've landed in this predicament."

"You'll have to be more specific, darling, there was a lot of flirting back when we were newlyweds," Eric drawled, delighting himself when the blush arose again on her cheeks due to his double entendre. "Which day was it? Because, as I recall, there was a particular bubble bath you started around that time."

"It was so much easier as newlyweds," she said, wistfully, recalling that time in their lives. "Remind me again, why did we have children?"

"Because neither of us bothered to look at a calendar," Eric answered gravely, and rather too honestly, causing Ariel to laugh. "We've held up so far. They haven't overrun us yet."

"Yet," Ariel warned, knowing full well that this was the beginning of a long road ahead. She may not have been interested in boys, but she'd given her father plenty of other things to have migraines over. "How was your talk with Melody?"

"She was upset that boys didn't think she was pretty. I told her she was beautiful." He answered, rather proud of himself.

Ariel made a face. "You have to say that, you're her father."

"You know, that's exactly what she said," he replied, perplexed that his wife knew Melody's exact response. "What was I supposed to say?"

"Something else, anything else," Ariel returned, grimacing now. "Teenage girls want to know that teenage boys think they're beautiful."

"Teenage boys," Eric started, his eyes darkening, mouth becoming a fine line. "Are idiots. The lot of them."

"What else did she say?" Ariel wondered, pulling her braid over her shoulder.

"She's apologetic for what she said at dinner," Eric returned, shrugging. Again, that wasn't news. Melody was struggling to adapt to the changes in her life, as well as the rest of them. "Mostly, she's still adjusting to having a sister. She doesn't like sharing us. And she's reading the tabloids; apparently, they're referring to Harmony as half-feral, and using that as the reason we haven't officially introduced her to the public."

"That's terrible," Ariel said, bringing a nail to her mouth, and chewing on it. It was a bad habit she'd never been able to break. "So, we have one that wants our attention, but doesn't need it, and one that doesn't want our attention, but needs it." Ariel summed up, pressing a palm to her forehead.

She felt a migraine coming on. "Daddy always made it look so easy. At one point, all seven of us were teenagers. And he never complained."

"Andrina says that when he started going gray," Eric responded, dryly, succeeding in causing another small smile to appear on Ariel's face. "We're trying the best we can. Three weeks ago, Harmony would barely speak to us; now, she's comfortable enough to ask questions on intimacy. And showing up to most meals."

"It could be worse," Ariel responded, agreeing with him. "It has been worse. Melody seems to have accepted that she's staying, too, which is good."

"And Harmony will...she'll come around to see our perspective on staying here, one day. Probably." Eric said, trying to infuse some humor in his words, though it was weak. He hated that they were lying as much as Ariel did, but what other choice did they have?

"What do we do in the meantime? I don't think I'm going to find an answer to her question in here." Ariel wondered, pushing the braid behind her again, her blue eyes wandering the library. "Maybe I wait till after Christmas to come up with an explanation?"

"You know who would probably have an answer? Grimsby," Eric said, thoughtfully.

A mischievous glint appeared in his eye as Ariel looked at him once again. He wasn't completely wrong; Grimsby was probably the most learned person either of them knew. If anyone had an answer, it would be him.

However, the nature of the question…

"Why don't you ask him then?" Ariel said, shooting it back at him as she got up. He was quick to use one arm to steady the ladder, the other to reach up, in case she needed help. She'd nearly given him a heart attack when she'd done this, heavily pregnant, and her foot had slipped. "I'll bet you a gold coin you couldn't get three words out to even try and ask him."

"I'll take that bet," he said, as she neatly landed back on her feet from the ladder. "I'm not afraid to ask. But when he gives some long, convoluted lecture on history, I'm excusing myself and you get to listen to it alone."

Ariel smiled. She knew how this would turn out. "That's a deal."

Disclaimer: Ariel, Eric, Melody, Carlotta, Grimsby, 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.