Archive of Our Own ^beta

This late in the year, night in the palace crept in before dinner time. It left trade-ships to light the sea with lanterns and Louie to complain about the draft in the kitchen. Eric never liked autumn: it meant rough sailing and a flurry of pre-winter diplomat visits. But this year, his opinion changed; it hadn’t felt so cold.

He sat on the floor of the palace’s highest parlor, surrounded by his father’s books and lofty windows open to the ocean. The smell of candles, buttered rolls and honey-tea warmed the room. But so did the faint aroma of the sea, all from the girl sitting across from him, focused on the half-spent candle.

“Missing the warm weather, huh?” He asked, watching the flame reflect in her ocean-blue eyes.

It took Ariel a moment to realize he was there. She blinked and shrugged, wrapping herself tighter in a cream-colored blanket while the wax from the candle trickled into the saucer.

“It won’t be like this for long. After a little rain and snow--”

She sat up and blinked at him with an expression he couldn’t read. Some mixture of excitement and wonder he hadn’t seen since he was a child.

There had always been something different about her. He’d never seen anyone watch a fire or try to touch a sunset like she did. That kind of fascination was something too alien to pass off as merely foreign and yet too earnest not to admire.

She made a vague, all-encompassing gesture with her hands.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Er-things warm up pretty quickly.”

The candle shrunk into the little saucer between them. Eric could feel the heat on his face--it took him this long to realize he had no idea what she was trying to say.

Sometimes he could read things in her eyes, or at least that was what he thought. My name is Ariel. This means I love you. I’m sorry. No. I can’t.

I’m happier than I’ve ever been.

Had he been wrong about all of these things? He looked her straight in the eye, struggling to see anything that could help him understand.

“You come from someplace hot, don’t you? Without snow?”

She pursed and chewed her lips for a moment, but finally shook her head.

“Up north?”

“No? How about east of here? We trade--”

She pointed out the window to the ocean, smooth and dark as the sky. His hand once more fell to the back of his neck.

“...across the ocean?”

He watched her shake her head again and he fell silent, a small sigh slipping through the quiet. In the tiny, flickering light he could see her swirling a finger in her tea--it must’ve been cold by now. She licked a drop off her finger--an strange thing to do, but it painted a hesitant smile on his face.

It didn’t last. “I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll get the hang of this--I’ve just never done...this before. Usually Grim or my father would just bark orders at me and I’d listen. But you--I’m insulting you, aren’t I?”

His gaze drifted down where only breadcrumbs and the last bit of tea floated among the dregs. He took a sip, the last drops sweet but cold. She laughed, presumably at his blush. “I’m sorry.”

Out of the corner of his eye a light appeared, and he looked out the window. He squinted, unable to tell if it was from a lighthouse in the distance or even a ship returning late to harbor.

“You know I need to take you sailing someday. Maybe get out of here for an afternoon and visit one of the little islands off the coast while we still can.”

As soon as he felt himself frowning, looking again at the sea, out of the corner of his eye Ariel stood. He turned, swallowing.

“Did I--?”

She tugged at his hand.

“What are--oh.” And for just a split second her excitement enchanted him--

“No. No, no, no. It’s a little--late for that, isn’t it? Maybe another time. I promise.”

She sighed silently, resigned, blowing hair from her face. But she pulled at him again and with some hesitation, he stood and she brightened. Before Eric had the chance to speak again, she disappeared from the room with only a tiny squeak from the door.

"Hey!" He choked between laughs, and felt almost boyish as he leapt up and sped out the door in her wake. "Wait!"

The palace was silent outside the parlor door, and the moon poured bluish light through every window in the hallway. He’d been out at this time of night too often to have goosebumps up his arms, though the shadows clawed long across the echoing tile.

Ariel stood at the end of the hall, looking at him expectantly. Her shadow trailed all the way to his feet. He followed without another thought, careful to make no sound as he ran across the marble.

As he grew up in the palace, Eric had perfected the path outside, staying free of mother and father’s knowing eyes and eventually Grimsby’s reprimands.

Look around this hallway. Careful around the kitchen--servants worked late into the night. Down the east wing stairwell, and all the way to the other side of the palace, where lofty garden doors waited for him in dim, bluish light.

He knew the path so well that it took him until now to realize he had taken the lead. He stopped himself in front of the glass doors, looking back at Ariel.

“This is ridiculous. We can’t do this. What will--”

She put a finger to his lips and silenced him; Eric just stood there with the same awkward, dumbfounded look he’d had when he’d seen her smiling after flying over the ravine in his carriage. He didn’t understand exactly what she was trying to tell him, but it didn’t matter. When he was younger he wouldn’t have stopped when he’d made it this close to sea.

“All right. You win,” he slipped open the glass courtyard doors.

They skirted across gardens and fences where the air smelled faintly of horses; a little path wound around the stables and he ushered her to it.

There was a paved road from the courtyards to the little harbor outside the palace, but once Eric found the back way, he never took the main road again. He loved the shelter in the shadows of the trees, shielding his secret path to the first place he ever belonged.

The sea was close now, and the salty air bade him onward. The smell teased Ariel too. He could tell by the way her blue eyes brightened, as if she were coming home.

It was all he could do to keep his voice low as he whispered, “Almost there, I promise,” until the path curled downhill to the beach. There lay the sea, smooth and sleepily rolling on the sand.

“God, I don’t remember the last time I did this.”

Eric led Ariel down the narrow dock crossed by the palace’s finest military vessels. The ships towered over them, sails neatly furled in anticipation for their next voyage. Eric watched as Ariel craned her neck, beaming at every ship. All of them had hulls packed tight with cannons and golden crests emblazoned with Eric’s name. All except one.

“This one,” Eric said as he approached that skiff at the end of the dock, bending over and running a hand over the weathered hull. “She’s mine.”

The vessel boasted no intricate carvings or arms, just a small cabin and a lantern hanging beside the door. Scratches covered the hull, faded and fresh, inching all the way to her name at the stern: Patras. But despite the lack of finery from the larger royal ships, Ariel still looked at her with the same reverence as Eric did. She rocked in anticipation of her next voyage.

Eric looked at Ariel and couldn’t help but smile at her eagerness to board.

“Sorry if she’s a little worn-down,” he said, taking her hand and helping her on deck. “I built her when I was fourteen. Grim’s been trying to make me replace her but I think she handles well enough.”

As Ariel marveled over all the different ropes and tools spread on deck, Eric gathered the thick mooring lines off the dock. After one good push, the ship floated away from the rest of the fleet, drifting to face the open ocean.

“I, uh, hope you like it.” Eric freed the mainsail from its tight stays, unsure where to look. Usually he’d be content to focus on his work, but he found it difficult not to steal a glance at Ariel--her happiness was infectious.

He reached for the halyard and felt Ariel’s eyes on him. When he made to hoist the sail, she held out her own hand.

His smile was wider than it had been in a long time. “I knew there was a reason I loved you so much. Come here.” He stepped back and left her a space; she grabbed the halyard with him and pressed her back against his chest. He felt a blush creep up his cheeks, but at least she was facing in the other direction.

Her hands were soft like any other lady’s, yet she dove into the ropework with no ounce of hesitation, and together they watched the sail swell. It caught the brisk night wind and Eric’s ship flew out into the open ocean, while the fiery lights of the castle faded into nothing.

Now that he’d grown up, Eric had enough to keep him busy within the palace walls, but he still couldn’t find anything to match the feeling of being out at sea. Here, the only things he had to listen to were murmurs of the wind and his own duties were that of a sailor. It was the one place where he never had don the mask of carefully-scripted civility.

He took a deep breath and tasted the salt in the air that he hadn’t in weeks. He saw her do the same, with her eyes fixed on the ship’s wake and the wind tossing her hair.

When Eric could barely see the lights of the palace and the city it crowned, he dropped anchor and tied the mainsail fast once more. Ariel watched him but was quick to lean over the rail again, staring down at the ocean as if she could see everything below.

He’d lost track of time as soon as they’d set sail. Only the stars and the high moon told him that Grimsby was probably going to kill him if he found out about this impromptu little voyage.

Ariel had no such hesitation, and she looked at all the stars with the wonder of someone who had never seen them before. After a long moment her gaze floated down to the sea. At that moment, Eric decided this trip was worth any reprimand he might receive.

“Hey there,” he nearly whispered over her shoulder, kissing the back of her jaw and slipping his hands over hers on the weathered rail. She giggled without a sound. He felt it in her shoulders--they shook against him and he couldn’t help but laugh himself. He rested his chin in her hair and stayed like that for a long while, listening to the ship rock with them and the water lap against the hull.

Then somewhere in the distance a whale began to sing.

They both looked up: him with surprise and her with an expression that seemed almost like loneliness.

He tucked a hand under hers and held it firmly. He’d forgotten how warm she was.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said into her ear, “that you-that you can’t...”

She looked back up at him and shook her head. That wasn’t it.

He sighed, “I’m sorry,” thinking it might be best if he didn’t speak at all.

He felt her shrug against him, and she wiggled out of his grip and climbed onto the rail of the boat.

“Ariel! What--?”

The boat swayed with an incoming wave and Ariel wobbled, but kept her balance. She turned and looked him in the eye with the kind of nonchalant smile she had as they left the palace, still as unafraid as she was jumping the ravine. And while he still offered her a dumbfounded stare, something in him was beginning to understand.

“What are...?” He said almost to appease his own worries. He held out his hand.

She leaned over, pressing her palm flat against his.

Trust me.

Without thinking, he closed his fingers between hers, climbing onto the rail of the boat without letting go of her hand. He caught his balance and felt the ship move under them. I trust you.

And she pushed him overboard, sending him tumbling into the ocean with a giant splash.

As he struggled to right himself in the dark sea, all he saw was a giant black shape swimming towards him from the distance.

From the distance. But it was already enormous.

He broke the surface and gasped for air, hearing another splash beside him. “Ariel?”

He dove and seized her waist before she could flounder.

“There’s something out--”

“Shh!” It was as much as she could say without a voice. She nodded, still smiling.

Before he got a chance to react, a giant fin speared the surface, and up swam an orca--a fully-grown orca. The wave from its wake tossed them both back and he coughed and sputtered, his grip on Ariel nearly slipping. He heard the boat lurch behind them; it leaned and the far rail almost grazed the water, but it held steady. Eric remembered to breathe.

The orca opened its massive mouth and squealed, high-pitched like a dolphin and as happy as a puppy who just found its owner.

And it had. It ducked under the water and scooped Ariel up. She surfaced sitting right on its head, patting its smooth back. The orca slapped his tail against the water and Eric saw a giant white spot right in the center of its flukes.

He treaded the water in front of the beast with the most dumbfounded expression he’d ever worn in his life. “I-uh, guess you’ve met before.”

From a small schooner’s length away he watched them both, unsure of what to do. Ariel seemed perfectly comfortable sitting on the orca’s back, rubbing him down like he often did to Max. She kept herself balanced more perfectly than he’d ever seen her in the ballroom even though the waves and the creature’s movements rocked her in smooth, erratic motions. Her hair trailed down her shoulders frazzled and soaked, but she didn’t seem to care.

She bent down and gave the whale’s head a big kiss--it whistled and spat seawater out of his blowhole, splashing her. She let out a silent laugh, wiping her face, and looked down at Eric almost expectantly, scooting back until she was leaning against the whale’s dorsal fin. It was a head taller than she was.

Eric looked at her, and then at the orca again. Straight in the eyes. He swallowed. He’d heard stories of dolphins rescuing sailors and had even witnessed them playing several times, but he hadn’t realized how enormous these creatures were until he was this close. He could almost touch it.

Biting back his hesitation, Eric reached out a hand and swam toward the orca. Before he reached it, the orca met him halfway, nuzzling his palm with the tip of its nose. The jet-black skin felt smooth and slick under his touch, save a few scratches and little bumps along its mouth. When it opened its jaws and Eric got a glimpse of its teeth he remembered seeing just what this animal did to seals on the beach. They’d earned the name Killer whale for a reason. But despite its massive size, it touched him with care and gentleness, just like the horses at the palace.

Only bigger. Much, much bigger.

Eric scratched the tip of its nose, and it clicked as if giggling. Then, it dove forward and popped him right in the stomach, sending him under the water--

”Oof--”

--and when Eric surfaced he grabbed whatever he could find. Which was, in this case, the orca’s face. He was curled just under its head with his arms wrapped around its closed mouth. And once he realized he was, in fact, still alive, he took a breath and relaxed.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

The whale spat out its blowhole and clicked again. “Thought so.”

Eric felt it turn and he gripped the whale’s nose tighter, but he craned his neck, he saw it offering a flipper. He let himself slip back into the water and swam onto it, taking Ariel’s outstretched hand and hoisting himself onto the orca’s back with her. Ariel sat daintily with her legs curled to her side while he straddled the whale like a horse.

Somewhere between boarding the boat and meeting this friend of hers Ariel had taken off her shoes. He looked over and saw two little black flats on the ship, and he laughed, looking at his own waterlogged boots.

“So much for these.” He slid them off and tossed them onto the deck.

The orca’s skin felt slick under his feet, and the last few months of summer had kept the seawater pleasantly warm. Though the wind whipped cold on land, the orca’s body heat more than made up for it.

“So, uh, you’ve known each other for a while?”

Ariel nodded.

“And he’s...he’s a he?”

With another nod she pointed to his dorsal fin. Eric had no idea what that was supposed to signify, but considering he’d gone from tea and decorum to sitting on a whale Eric didn’t protest.

“Okay, then,” he laughed with a wry smile. “Competition. I’ll try not to be jealous.” He tried to kiss her cheek but she just splashed him in the face. Not that it mattered--he was already soaked.

“So does he have a name?”

She gave the orca’s back a good pat and he raised his gargantuan tail out of the water. Ariel smiled and mouthed the whale’s name.

“Spot,” Eric repeated with a laugh. “Spot.” He rubbed his smooth back just as he’d done to Max a thousand times. Spot clicked and raised his head for attention, purring in the way only a creature of the ocean could. But when he splashed his tail down into the water Eric nearly slipped from his back.

Ariel just held on to Spot, perfectly calm as though she belonged there. Eric felt her tug at his arm and while she crawled behind Spot’s dorsal fin, he tried to shake the knot in his stomach.

“What does he want?” He followed and sat behind her, and he could feel Spot’s massive muscles fidget, tense, under them.

Spot turned towards the open sea, nearly skimming the ship with his tail, and Eric knew exactly what he wanted. But whether he was ready for it or not he didn’t know, and held Ariel’s waist tight with anticipation.

But she still looked back at him with effortless confidence that was uniquely hers, and Eric slid a hand off her waist and into hers. After a gentle squeeze, Eric took a breath and felt the trail of the sea as Spot took his first strokes toward the horizon.

It wasn’t like sailing. Nothing like horseback riding, either, but something in a class all its own. No looking down and seeing the wake of a ship, safe and dry on deck. His feet skirted the ocean, as deep and blue as the sky, riding on a creature he’d never met outside of sailors’ tales and faraway glances.

And yet somehow it was home. He felt it in the warmth of the sea, and in the way Ariel’s eyes shined with belonging as she craned her neck to see the stars.

Spot cried out and jolted under the water, and when he popped through the surface again both Ariel and Eric sputtered and coughed. Spot spat too and did his best to turn and look back at them.

Eric wiped his face. “We’re going under, aren’t we?”

As Ariel heaved a breath, Eric realized he didn’t need an answer. He leaned into her back, curling his chin against her shoulder, shutting his eyes tight. She felt it somehow and elbowed him.

Open your eyes.

He did, taking the deepest breath he could, and they dove.

By the time the bubbles faded and Eric got used to the rhythm of Spot’s tail, they had already gone so deep that the moon rippled as small as a coin and the pressure tugged at his ears. But soon enough he relaxed enough to look down.

He gasped and almost swallowed seawater.

They swam close enough to the surface for moonlight to filter through the sky-dark ocean, but below him was something he’d never seen before. Not open ocean, not vibrant reefs from shorelines, but mountains. Towering rocks and valleys bigger than he’d ever seen, cliffs obscured by the foggy water, and giant sea-ferns that swayed and tickled their legs as Spot arched over a dropoff. They swam deeper and schools of shimmering fish swirled around them, and through the filtered sound of the ocean he could almost hear them speak.

Something else sang, and he could hear them: a pod of orcas, some smaller than a pony and a few larger than Spot. They swam so far out that Eric could barely see them through the night sea, but their clicks and whistles trailed all the way to him, clear as any human voice. He’d seen dolphins and seals and waterbirds breach the surface, but never had he imagined this much life swimming right beneath home.

But it wasn’t home. He couldn’t breathe underwater and the pressure on his chest made him want to cry for the surface. He squeezed Ariel’s shoulder and she tapped Spot’s dorsal fin, sending the whale bolting for the moon. Spot breached and Eric gasped as they fell back to the water in one titanic splash.

He panted, wanting to speak but finding no words. He blew his wet hair out of his face, still looking at the water, and reached to skim a hand over the surface.

The dive had lasted only seconds. If he didn’t need to breathe, Eric wondered what else he might have seen under the ocean.

A few black dorsal fins poked through the surface ahead and Spot turned to call out to them. He turned around, sped to the boat, and grazed the edge--

“Easy, easy! Careful!” Eric almost fell off Spot’s back. When the ship steadied, they climbed aboard, soaked through their clothes and dripping all over the deck.

Ariel didn’t seem to care, and neither did he.

Eric leaned on the rail to meet Spot’s upturned face, waiting for a last goodbye, and Ariel followed close behind. He rubbed right under his chin just like Max liked while Ariel gave his nose a kiss. Spot bobbed his head, birdlike, clicking. Eric smiled as Spot slipped underwater, watching his shape fade as he swam back towards his family.

Eric left for his cabin and came up again with towels in hand. He tossed Ariel one and she looked at it, wrapping it around herself like a blanket, and only dried her hair when she saw Eric doing the same.

He turned toward the palace in the distance, all the lights from the windows out until morning. “It’s a little late to make it back,” he said. “We’ll probably want to stay in the cabin for tonight. It’s not as comfortable as the palace, but if you don’t mind--”

Stumbling over his words, Eric swallowed his discomfort. He didn’t have any intentions beyond sleeping (frankly, he was too soaked and tired to do anything else), but Ariel didn’t know that.

From her serene nod, she didn’t seem to consider him much of a threat to her virtue. And given how long it had taken him to gather the courage to kiss her that night at the lagoon, he couldn’t exactly blame her.

“There’s a spare set of clothes in the top drawer if you want to change.” He rubbed the back of his neck, motioning to his cabin. “Just knock on the door when you’re done. I’ll be here.”

When Ariel finished, she met him at the door with hair barely towel-dried, tousled over her shoulder as he’d often seen it after spending a warm day lounging in the courtyards. His clothes nearly swallowed her. And while guilt tore at his stomach, Eric did notice the smooth swells of her curves under his wide collar, and he hoped the night was dark enough to hide his furious blush.

The stairs leading down to his cabin were narrow and creaked softly. The room itself was only the size of a hallway, with two alcoves on either side: one holding a dresser and an end table, the other a bed nestled in with ruffled blankets and pillows that still had traces of grey and white fur. Though he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been aboard his own ship, the cabin warmed him into a familiar comfort. This could have been any of a thousand journeys he’d taken.

Except, of course, for one passenger who wasn’t Max. She sat on the bed, hair still heavy and damp, wrapped in a thin blanket. Moonlight trickled in from a tiny window at the end of the narrow hall, casting shadows on all the treasures Eric had collected from years at sea.

“You could have lit the lamp, you know.” He smirked, striking a match. The cabin was so tiny that one tiny flame served the entire room.

Once he tossed his wet shirt with the rest of Ariel’s discarded clothes, he looked back to see her face. Something as simple as a fire always brought her to a genuine, almost childlike awe. After spending too many galas with dignitaries and vapid princesses, he loved to see her find joy in all the little things he overlooked.

He gathered some extra pillows, tossing one to her and laying a couple on the floor with some blankets. He sat down, not quite ready to sleep yet--better to dry off comfortably and spend a little more time with Ariel aboard ship. Ariel seemed to have the same idea. As soon as he looked up at her she was offering him her arm.

“Er--you’re sure--” The lamplight did nothing for his blush, but this time it didn’t take long for him to relax and breathe a smile. “Okay, okay. Scoot over.”

Eric sat down on the bed. Ariel offered him part of her blanket and he willingly took it, wrapping it around his shoulder and closer to her. During his four solid months confined to land, he’d pined for the salty ocean winds. But now he tasted it in the air, on his lips, all the while cradled in his own ship as it rocked to the rhythm of the sea. It had been so long since he’d felt these familiar sensations they captured all of his attention. He almost started when he felt Ariel’s cheek rest against his shoulder.

He started to open his mouth, but pulled back, figuring anything he’d say would ruin the moment--embarrass both of them. Instead he brushed a hand around her waist and let her weight sink against him, content to feel her breath wash over his skin.

But he finally dared to speak, breaking the momentary perfection. “I, uh, hope you had a good time tonight.” He looked at her for reassurance like the lovesick little boy he was turning out to be. Her nod seemed sincere enough, but there were too many thoughts racing through his mind for him to settle down. “I know I did. I can’t say I expected to take a swim with a killer--”

As soon as he said it, Ariel turned and dealt him an offended glare on Spot’s behalf. She pointed out the porthole at the end of the cabin, where the gentle creature was still swimming with his family.

“--orca. Sorry.” For all his size, Spot was friendly and playful, and about as much of a danger to life and limb as Max. “Killer whale” wasn’t exactly the first thing to come to mind.

She snuggled deeper into his arms and Eric sank back into the pillows with her. After so many years soaking up propriety, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been close enough to feel the warmth from someone else’s skin.

In a cozy daze he laid flat on the bed, Ariel still in his arms. Only imagining Grimsby’s hellish reprimand made him sit back up. “Take the bed. I’ll be on the floor tonight.”

It killed Eric not to reach for Ariel as she knelt over him. She was still so close that the fall of her hair grazed his shoulder, and he remembered.

“Ariel?” He blinked. He’d seen this before. The way she lay beside him, her face in hushed shadow. Lamplight haloed her hair and it shined in gentle tangles, as if fresh from the sea. She radiated warmth and tenderness. Light from an angel. Just like--just like--

“I’m so sorry.” He moved to roll himself off the bed but she lay a hand on his chest to stop him, slowly shaking her head. She leaned closer until he spoke again, and Eric had to tear his gaze from her when the memories grew too strong. “It’s--you remind me of...I thought I’d stop thinking about it.”

As soon as he finished, she seized his hand and nodded like when he’d first guessed her name at the lagoon. He looked at her again, throwing away his doubts, all his reservations. “But I can’t.”

Her hand brushed against his cheek, and in flooded memories of sunlight and a voice that melted him. They flooded out when Ariel grabbed his shoulders. Because he’d known all along. She nodded fervently, leaning so close that the tip of her nose touched his and drew out his wide smile.

“You’re the one. The girl who saved me.”

The smile on his face erupted into laughter and he sat up, nearly leaping into her arms, rubbing her back and almost losing balance with the force of their embrace and the motion of the ship.

He lost himself in the sensation. Sea-scented hair, arms wound fast around him. Her breath spilling silent laughter against his neck with the kind of unaffected happiness he’d only seen in dreams. And it all ended when he felt himself leaning back and missed the pillows. His head slammed against the wall and the sound of glass shattering echoed from the closet behind him.

He winced, still holding her, tangled in blankets and loose pillows. Water was already leaking from under the closet door. “I’ll be a minute,” he said, wiping still-damp hair out of his face.

As soon as he’d grabbed a towel and started to clean Ariel had already done the same, kneeling to help. The glass jug of water had splattered over the end of Eric’s spot on the floor and the two towels weren’t enough to mop up the spill. Eric just shrugged it off and moved on. He’d slept in worse, and for now something else troubled him.

Ariel gathered the bits of broken glass with him and piled them into a soaked towel as Eric watched, perplexed. He couldn’t tell specifics, but he felt something in the way she carried herself that seemed unlike her. Had it been months earlier he’d probably wouldn’t have noticed.

Maybe there weren’t any signs at all. Maybe he read too deeply into how she couldn’t quite focus or how she recovered the pieces one by one, but instinct overpowered his doubts. She made an almost conscious effort not to look at him even though her brows were furrowed, buried in thoughts she had no voice to disclose. When they’d picked up every piece of glass and cork Eric scooped up the towel to throw them out, and knelt right back to her.

“Is everything okay?”

She began a nod, but bit her lip instead.

“This is about your voice, isn’t it?”

A small nod this time. Ariel carried an uneasy expression; that wasn’t the whole story. She pointed to him and then laid a hand on her throat. That was all he needed.

“Easy, there.” He ran his knuckles across her cheek and she held herself to his touch.

“Don’t get me wrong. What I heard when you rescued me was--it was perfect. I chased after that because I fell in love with it. That’s what I thought I wanted. But after I met you it didn’t matter if I wouldn’t hear it again.”

They sat beside each other in silence for a while, foreheads pressed together. Wordless and speaking so much, content with the sounds around them.

“What happened,” Eric didn’t pull back, “that made you lose it?”

She looked at him like she couldn’t possibly say. The whole story was beyond communication, at least the kind she had right now. And maybe she wasn’t ready to. But Eric didn’t pry; he only rubbed her shoulder and let her slip into his arms, small and uncharacteristically vulnerable.

“This probably isn’t going to help,” he said, “but it’s over now. I won’t say I can imagine what it’s like...not to speak. I can’t.”

He pressed his forehead against her temple, feeling her gentle smile.

“But you’re speaking to me right now.”

She pressed a little closer and his hand fell around her waist.

“I didn’t think I’d learn so much about you.” He laughed a little. “All in one night. Maybe you should sneak me off sailing more often. It’d be good for the both of us.”

Ariel nudged his shoulder with hers, and Eric’s expression turned quizzical. She did it again.

“Me?”

She nodded.

“Oh, no, you don’t want to hear about me.”

Her protest came when she elbowed him in the side.

“Or maybe you do. Where should I start?”

A shrug. Anywhere you want.

He looked about his boat and met dozens of treasures, but his most important possession was the vessel herself.

“Well, uh--this boat’s been a big part of my life for a while,” Eric said, a corner of his mouth curling into a half-smile. “I practically lived on it until Grimsby started to realize he’d better get me married.

“My father helped me get started. I mean I’d seen the men building in the shipyards, but we’d always had our own fleet. He took me down to the edge of town whenever he had spare time and we’d work. Got the frame together in a summer and eventually I’d just go down and polish it myself.”

Something in him wanted to stop at that, and he wrung his hands together, but Ariel just nudged him once more. Sometimes he thought Ariel was better at reading him than he was.

“I shouldn’t--”

Go on.

He paused for a moment, but turned to meet her eyes. Recalling these details made him more than a little uncomfortable, but he let it go. Eric trusted her enough. “But he died while I was still finishing it. Winter. He was sailing to Greece when his ship sank--close to the coast. A couple of men survived and managed to send word to Grimsby. When he told me, you can probably imagine how it went.”

She could, by the way she slid her hand in his and spoke the knowing look of someone who’d lost just as much as he had. And he could barely fathom what it was.

“Who?” He asked, but she urged him to go on with his own story. She’d shown him a part of herself; it was his turn now.

“I had to do something and the only thing that came to mind was to finish what we’d started together. Find him. But Grim found me the night after he’d told me what happened--I’d passed out right here in this cabin. I still had rope in my hand.”

He looked around him and he saw her do the same. Back then there had been tools and old sailcloths strewn across the floorboards, and he’d wrapped himself in one when the winter midnight crept into the workshop. He could still remember the smell of the sawdust and the sour tinge of polish in the hastily-finished belly of the ship. No treasures on the shelves, no stories, not a scar on the clean and empty hull.

“I’d given myself a few scrapes and I didn’t sleep that well, but I was all right. Grim brought me home and--that summer I went sailing again for the first time.”

And he remembered. Remembered the soft summer rain that woke him, and the sunlight that welcomed him into the harbor that afternoon. He’d never found anything that could match the anxious smell of a new ship, dry and vacant and waiting to be lowered to sea.

He had christened the ship Patras, for his father. For the city the king had never seen. After the place where Eric had hoped to find him, safe and alive, only lost for a short while.

But by the time her sails caught summer wind for the first time, Eric knew he’d never find him. So instead he did exactly what his father had told him to do: set the ship to the wind and sailed on. A pod of dolphins followed him and he remembered exactly why he loved the sea. He saw the sunlight bounce off the water. And far off in the distance, the single shimmer--

“I came back to Grim that day raving about how I saw a--”

She put a finger to his lips, as if sensing what he was about to say.

“--a mermaid.”

She nodded, recalling her hand and chewing on her lip.

Silence. He struggled to speak again. “A mermaid.”

Mermaids. He could feel his eyes go wide. Sailors had started wars over treasure and myth, Kraken and pirate kings, and here sat a creature of the sea that men had only dreamed about. Right in front of him. Eric shook his head, and everything fell into place.

“No. It’s okay. I believe you.” He pressed his palm against hers, just like they’d done before, threading their fingers together. A mermaid.

“So that’s how you found me.” He reached down and brushed his hand gently over her legs, barely able to fathom that she’d had scales not long ago. He pictured shimmering golds and reds as vibrant as her hair, but as she pointed to a piece of sculpted abalone on his shelf his mind settled to a beautiful sea-green. He was speechless for a long moment.

“But how did you get your legs?”

A frown crossed her face and she laid a hand to her throat.

“Your voice?”

A life in a completely different world, all for a voice. Eric didn’t know what kind of magic was capable of that. But that kind of power existed, and the proof was sitting right beside him. He was almost afraid to imagine.

But how couldn’t he? He’d seen the world under the ocean. All the mountains, the reefs with schools of fish, families. He knew she must have had one of her own: a father, mother, maybe even a few siblings. And yet something made her trade her voice to leave everything.

Part of that must have been her love for the land, but such a sacrifice demanded something deeper.

“When you’re outside, when the sun’s shining...I’ve never seen anyone so happy. Ever. Is all that real?”

Yes.

There was no sincerer answer. Even as the candlelight flickered and waned to a dull burgundy, Eric saw. He needed no words. Everything they could say flew between them with touch alone. Ariel nuzzled her nose against his cheek and her warm breath brought back his smile.

Eric knew then that part of this was for him, too. That something in him was worth saving on the night of the shipwreck. She’d sacrificed an entire world to be where she belonged, and she welcomed him into this life that she’d created. He didn’t know if he could live up to that kind of honor, but he would never stop trying.

The candle on the desk flickered and burned out while they sat intertwined, soaking up the heat of breath and bare skin. By now it must have been at least midnight and Eric couldn’t see. But he could feel her, and that was enough.

“Well, I guess this is good night,” he whispered into her hair. The room smelled of sea and candle smoke. “The bed’s all yours.”

When they parted, he took his place on muddled blankets on the floor and heard Ariel sit on the bed. As soon as she did, Eric felt a tug on his arm.

He paused, but didn’t pull away. “Grim would have my head, Ariel.”

While she let her hand linger for a moment on his arm, she soon relented and curled up under her blankets. Eric frowned.

He saw her outline, vague and soft beneath blankets, from what little light trickled through the window at the end of the cabin. Her hair cascaded freely around the pillows. He moved in to kiss her on the cheek but caught her on the bottom of her eye instead, and before he could open his mouth in apology he could feel her smiling.

Through a quiet laugh he wished her good night, letting his knuckles trail the gentle line of her cheek. He felt her lean into his hand and he wondered if tonight would only be the first of many times he’d settle down with her.

He’d already invited her on his ship--some place that was uniquely his, more than any palace chamber or throne. Voice or mute, mermaid or human, he’d written her permanently into his life. Just like she had to him. And tonight was only the start; the thought flooded him with fear and wonderment.

She slid against the wall to make room for him under the blankets, and she laid her head on the valley where his neck sloped into his shoulder. Her breath against his collar made him tense in surprise, but he soon leaned back against the pillow they shared and relaxed.

“Good night,” he murmured, kissing her forehead and letting his arm fall around her waist. She squeezed his hand in reply, and he felt the heavy weight of sleep.

Sometimes, Eric woke before dawn to savor shipboard mornings. He could hoist the mainsail and watch the sunrise, or listen to dolphins clicking and giggling by his ship. But this morning he didn’t. Instead, he opened his eyes to the greying light of dawn and settled back down to listen to the hush of light rain against the Patras.

A weight on the pillow made him start--he’d forgotten he was sleeping next to someone until Ariel rolled over and her hair grazed his skin. He relaxed a little longer just as he was, listening to her breathing along with the sounds of the rain outside.

All this time he’d been waiting for a perfect vision of love. Chasing some silly dream, like the voice he’d known nothing about. He’d thought he’d found perfection when he’d kissed her in the lagoon, but the drive home meant far more to him than anything he had planned. Those were the long moments that were purely real: the awkward conversations and holding wet, clammy hands and shivering until finding Carlotta fuming and sending for towels and fresh clothes. This was one of those moments, so real he could blink awake and see and know he wasn’t dreaming. Just lying next to her was far greater than a kiss.

He let his hand hover over her waist, hesitating to touch, almost wondering if one false move could ruin everything. Could he do that? What did you do with a woman in your bed? Besides the obvious answer, anyway. Eric choked, swallowing his hesitation. He took a chance and gently wrapped his arm around her.

She snuggled close against him, blinking open her eyes and nuzzling his nose, only stopping when she heard him laugh.

Something shrill sounded from far outside the ship, and Eric laid back down to listen. Orcas. He concentrated harder, filtering out the creaking ship and the constant brush of morning rain. There were multiple voices--a family chattering things he wondered if he could someday understand. He tried to pick out Spot among them, remembering his cries, when he felt Ariel under the covers winding her hand around his.

They lay together listening, quiet and still, breathing in time with the ship’s motions. After a moment a familiar call rang in the distance and he knew that was the one. He turned to her and she nodded, squeezing his hand under the blankets. The gravity of her smile drew Eric closer--he basked in her warmth, arms enveloping her.

“Marry me.” He whispered against her cheek, voice slurred in sleep, vision hazy. But he blinked awake as soon as he realized what he said, staring wide-eyed and swallowing his words. Ariel mirrored his expression, and there followed a painful silence. Eric’s stomach turned.

He took in a shallow, terrified breath, but his voice was genuine. “Marry me.”

Eric barely took a breath when she leapt into his arms and he caught her and sprinkled kisses on her face. Her hair tangled through his fingers, and when they parted she lay on his chest, eyes welling with the sincerest love.

He rubbed her back in steady circles as she nodded into his neck, her smile infectious.

“A little less formal than I expected,” Eric laughed, brushing barely-tamable bedhead out of his face. He slid out from under her, taking his still-damp shirt from the dresser and slipping it on. “Maybe when we get back I’ll surprise you with a real human propos--”

One yank at his collar and she cut him off with a kiss; he closed his eyes soaked it in, wrapping his arms around her neck.

“I’ll take that as a yes. But I’m not going to tell you when. If I’m going to give Grim and Carlotta a fit I might as well do the same to my fiancée.” He winked and stole a kiss on the tip of her nose. “So what do you say we head back?”

She nodded.

“Okay. Just put my clothes in the dresser and I’ll deal with them later. I’ll be right outside.”

He shut the door behind him, ascending the stairs, and the misty wind brushed against his face. The sun was just rising in muted golds and violets, highlighting the great planes of the sea. His boots still lay carelessly starboardside and Eric laughed, lopping them up and draining out seawater.

He made a move to ready the sails, but stopped. Ariel would be with him soon and he wanted her here too. This vessel was theirs now, and they sailed together. Only when he saw her on deck did he hoist anchor.

“Ready to go home?”

Her hand on the halyard marked her answer. She blew her hair from her eyes, taking a long look at the castle peeking out from morning mist.

He remembered when he first danced with her on the tour of his kingdom. On the last few steps, he’d hoisted her up too fast and one of her heels flew off--they’d stumbled together and heard it tumble in the corner of the square. When she went to pick it up she stopped, looking down at her own foot and wiggling her toes on the cobblestone. Back then he had simply laughed with her and moved on, but now Ariel wore the same expression on her face. For her, the tiny palace on the shoreline was far more than a place to live.

Together they hoisted the mainsail, watched it swell, and sailed home.