Archive of Our Own ^beta

The mermaid fell in love with the land and its people and longs to be on the land. They saved a prince who lives by the sea and listen to him beckon them to join him on the shore. He knew they were real. The mermaid decided to reveal themself briefly and sang to the prince, who was excited to know he wasn’t imagining it all. The mermaid decided this is the push they needed to try to become human and they sought out a sea witch. They became human and met the prince who was surprised to find them now human and unable to talk. He promised to give them a home and they agreed to go with him.

The servants were shocked by this turn of events. Previously, they heard their prince muttering about being rescued by a stranger who somehow managed to carry him from the wreck to the shore. He didn’t know what they looked like, but they sang to him in the most beautiful voice that could ever exist before disappearing without at trace. For the days leading up to this, he would wander out to the beach and search for hours on end. Recently it was as if he found something, his mania dying down. Looking at the stranger, it must have been someone. They were definitely not human. That was the first thing the servants noticed about them. The second was that they were beautiful. Tall with lean muscles and tan, sun-kissed skin covered in freckles. Their hair length was ambiguous, cropping just below their shoulders in messy, loose curls that seem to wave in nonexistent wind. They sweep their hair out of their face and you can see their eyes, one a sea foam teal and the other a bright cerulean. Airy movements that were disjointed, like an old music box figure that needed to be oiled. And they made not a single sound, not a gasp or a wince or a whistle. Not a sound. It’s like someone had dragged out every piece of their voice. Yes, this person was undoubtedly not human, but they watched the prince excitedly welcome them in and chose to not say a word about it. The servants just awkwardly handed them clothes that they didn’t wear correct without a single care and nodded when the other servants stated they had a cousin like that, who didn’t have a preference for trousers or skirts and would wear either any given day and spoke gently in an androgynous voice that people didn’t care about trying to figure out when it was crooning in their ears with an accent from Leata. Or a cousin who the aunts and uncles called “nephew” until one family reunion where she showed up in a billowing skirt and delicate flower jewelry recounting her vacation to Leata and it didn’t change much because that was their cousin. Or aaunt who ran off with a maid and came back a husband with an adopted kid, shrugging and saying he and his new wife took a honeymoon to Leata. And so they all agreed that the stranger was from Leata and they were the prince’s business.

They became close friends over their mutual fascination with the world, tactile affection, and secret of the sea. The prince believed he is falling in love with the mermaid at first from how much he adored them, but it wass not like that. The mermaid was his favorite person ever, but he was not in love with them. He didn’t understand that a love like that could exist though. He told them about the stories of true love and true love's kiss and on a night under the moonlight, he gave them a kiss and told them it was a special form of affection called true love's kiss, reserved for the one you treasured the most and longed to spend the rest of your life with. And the mermaid tilted their head in consideration. The merfolk didn’t put too much emphasis on the place in one's heart because to love someone was to love them, but partners aren’t uncommon. Many merfolks find one or two people they click with wonderfully and they stay together throughout life, remaining closer than they do with the rest of the pod. And the mermaid looked at the prince and thought that they wouldn’t mind having a partner like that here on land, especially one so delightful as their prince.

So they gently peppered kisses on the prince’s face and returned the one on his lips. The prince was besotted and he didn’t know what their relationship was, but he liked their kisses and their cuddles and he liked their company and he would love to do this forever. Unbeknownst to the mermaid, the prince grew up with the idea that you could only have one true love and that love must be romantic so he was shy about the affection and tried not to show it in public. Everyone thought they were in a secret relationship or in denial about their feelings. The servants were distant in order to not be seen as flirting with the prince’s paramour, even if that was not what the mermaid was. It didn’t help that the prince grew up with no real connections with others due to growing up as a prince. Having someone be emotionally there for him, openly affectionate, and interested in being around him was addicting. So he did his best to love them in the way he knew and awkwardly figured it out from there. He called them his beloved friend, his pearl, his treasure, his moonlight, his soulmate. They knew what that word meant and it was just as sweet to them as it is to the prince. The mermaid was patient and comforting the entire time. They began to tap his wrist three times to return his “I love you.” The two were thick as thieves, planning different adventures and trips and sleepovers.

Then the prince was informed that he needed to get married. He was conflicted because he believed that there can only be one person in his heart. He didn’t have a specific name for his relationship with the mermaid, but he thought it might count as cheating when he got married. So he sadly told the mermaid that when he married, things between them would have to change because his wife would be the only one allowed in his heart. The mermaid did not know what cheating or marriage was and thought his friend was very stupid and confusing. Through this conversation, he instilled in the mermaid that true love could only exist between two people romantically and that the mermaid would need to find someone they can love like that once he married. The mermaid didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about and was disturbed by the idea of abandoning the prince. However, since they were mute, they couldn’t articulate the reason for their rejection and frustration and he assumed that the mermaid meant that they believed that their love was true love and he felt inspired to try staying with them. After all, if they have the true love, then maybe he wouldn’t fall in love with his suitors and might fall in love with the mermaid and they’d get married. But he wasn’t in love with the mermaid in that way and deep down, he thought the mermaid would smack him upside the head for suggesting that.

It’s midway through their second month together where the prince started getting rushed into finding a fiancée. The advisors were concerned that if they let the prince and his… guest continue alone any longer they would get married since platonic relationships obviously couldn’t be that close. So they needed to find the prince a suitable spouse. Gender didn’t matter, just noble blood. The prince was to be married before he inherited his dukedom. It was tradition. He had been able to avoid his suitors for a while by then, but his coronation was drawing nearer and the pressure increased. He still dragged the mermaid alongside him, having them patiently wait in the corner or outside while he met with each suitor. The mermaid grew bored with it and would wander off, but the prince would fuss the moment he noticed them leave and so they remained standing there like a stuffed animal. They didn’t know what was happening, but they could feel the tension in the air and it was suffocating in a way the sea had never been. The servants watched their eyes grow dimmed and dimmer, hurt filling those eyes that were normally only full of love and affection. And yet that hurt would painstakingly recede as the prince returned, and they would give him a wobbly smile when he assured them everything was still fine. The mermaid could only trust him even if they wanted to demand to know why everything was feeling so weird.

Because friends have time slots available for other friends. The mermaid and the prince only had each other so it was no wonder they spent everyday down to the second with the other. The mermaid didn’t know what this marriage stuff was or why the advisors spoke of it like it would get rid of them, but they knew their friend was stressed and they were too. It wasn’t like the sea was problem free, but typically they could do something. So they did what they could and waited and tried to hide the insecurity and dread creeping through their chest. And the prince breathed a sigh of relief every time he didn’t feel anything for the various people he met. His advisors sent people similar to the mermaid in hopes of replacing them, but it only made him less interested in them. He didn’t need another mermaid, he already had one. Then they introduced him to a princess and by the time she left, he couldn’t will away the flush in his cheeks.

She was elegant, well-spoken, and clever. But most of all she was open. She was more prepared to be a bride and a wife than she was to be a partner. She never had the chance to fall in love before, but it did not bother her. She wouldn’t expect them to fall in love immediately, but if they ended up being fiancées she hoped they grew to like each other. The prince couldn’t help but lower his guard. She was impressive in her manner and speech, intelligent and well-read, and a scholar before all. She studied philosophy, biology, and geology and had written many essays that she proudly recommended. She applied science to his tales and explained phenomena that he had never found an answer to. She played the lyre, embroidered, and painted as well. He was confused why she would be interested in being his wife in the first when she was so capable and she looked at him in confusion. “What does that matter?” And suddenly he was hit with a familiar feeling. The same he felt when he saw the mermaid in a human body for the first time, smiling at him like they hadn’t just given up something precious to give him that smile. He still didn’t know what to do when someone looked at him like he was worth their time and care. And at that moment he wanted to fall in love with her.

The prince threw himself into falling in love with his new fiancée. It was only proper, he thought. She was to be his life partner and while he didn’t know what was going on with him and the mermaid, he knew how marriages worked. And he was going to fall in love and get married eventually, anyway. And the mermaid would find someone else too and maybe they would fall in love properly rather than existing in that sweet limbo with him. And they would smile at each other from afar and by then the sharp pang in his chest at the thought would have dulled because everything would make so much more sense. In turn, the mermaid watched their friend leave them behind with any warning or explanation. And it hurts. It hurts a lot. And they watch as he pulls away with silent resignation because they can’t ask, can’t scream, can’t sing. Can’t understand. The servants watch with lead in their hearts because it was a tale as old as time, but no less tragic. They tentatively try to call the mermaid elsewhere, and they follow with a small smile, but their gaze lingers on the two fiancés as they leave the room.

The servants took turns keeping the mermaid entertained as they worked, providing stories of similar situations that faded into live stories. The mermaid listened with rapt attention. They made an ordinary memory seem like an epic tale. It was as if anything about the world was something to be treasured and each new piece of knowledge was something to be loved. The servants found their enthusiasm charming. It was no wonder the prince was so enthralled by them for so long. They themselves got excited when one of them found the mermaid wandering the hall aimlessly because it meant having company for a while. They tried to reassure them before they wandered back to the prince’s side. “You’ll find someone new.” “There will be someone to sweep you off your feet and make you forget everything about him.” “It’s just a matter of waiting for the right person to come around.” And the mermaid would look at them pained but smile anyway. The servants didn’t realize the feelings behind that smile.

The mermaid grew to hate marriage, whatever it was. They started to hate waiting, the false comforts, the lack of true care, and the imaginary savior who would be their everything. They hated him the most, that imaginary prince charming. The one that everyone promised would come one day and make them forget everything that hurt. They hated him for taking so long, for expecting them to love him just because he showed up eventually. They hated him for his impossible promises, for thinking he alone was enough to block out the memory of all the people in their life that they held dear even if their grip was slipping. They hated him for existing, for making everyone think it was alright to leave them behind because he would be there. They hated him and they hated everyone who believed in him. Everyone who only loves them temporarily because they didn’t think it was important to invest their time into them because he would be there. They hated him for isolating them from everyone they could have loved and received love from. They hated him for thinking he ever had a right to. They hated him for being allowed to exist. They hated so much that it was getting hard to remember how to love when all they could feel was this choking despair and anger and disappointment at this land they saw as beautiful.

They kept trying though. The servants couldn’t help but open up little by little when the mermaid seemed so excited to be around them. They learned more about the mermaid as well. They learned that they loved music and dancing, though they had no voice and their steps were gracefully clumsy. That they loved taking walks on the beach when the tide was high and would brush against their ankles, but never waded too deeply into the water. That they must have been able to talk before, somewhat recently, as they sometimes opened their mouth to say something before sadly huffing and gesturing away with their hands. That they like seafood and seemed to be very respectful of any meal they ate, doing some foreign prayer over the food before eating. That they hated wearing layers of clothing and didn’t care about proper dressing. They were often seen in loose dresses, skirts, blouses, trousers, and robe-like garments, worn with neither the proper amount of undergarments nor modesty. They always seemed frustrated when it was time to dress properly and the moment they could, they would toss the clothes off even in the presence of others. It was strange to think everyone had grown used to it over the days. It was no longer a big deal seeing the mermaid sprawled out on the sandy beach, wearing only a vibrant beach skirt and random antique accessories they picked up at a thrift store in town.

They spent more time on the beach than before, sunbathing and walking the shore like a tiger prowling the edge of its enclosure. In the rare moments the prince would remember they existed, he would join them, sitting on a blanket with a picnic basket strategically in between them. The two would stargaze as the prince explained the stories of each star and how sailors used the stars to navigate and the ones he used most. And the stranger would halfheartedly listen, wistfully staring out into the water. And the prince would notice and keep talking till his throat went sore, willing them to not look too long into the enticing deep blue. The wedding had been planned and when it was announced, the servants found the stranger standing knee-deep in the sea, staring out into the water as if in a trance, eyes dull and hollow. They seem to startle out of it and rush back out of the water, but the servants made sure to keep an eye on them anytime they wander too close to the waves. It was only then that anyone really noticed something horribly wrong.

The prince took one look at their wet clothes and dragged them away. The mermaid listened with resentment as the prince fussed over them and asked what they were thinking. He didn’t want an answer, he just needed to express his worry. The mermaid didn’t even know he cared that much. “I’m sorry.” The prince began, and the mermaid felt themself wake up a little from the haze their mind had been. “I’m sorry and I’m so selfish and you don’t deserve any of this. You don’t deserve to have to deal with me. This is all my fault.” And the mermaid hugged him because it isn’t. It really isn’t. It’s none of their faults. They weren’t the ones who came up with the lies they believed and they never chose to be taught them. The mermaid didn’t regret loving the prince, not when he had made them so happy and even if he had made them so sad.

“I can't be the person for you. I’m getting married and I love my fiancée. I love her in a way that is expected for a husband and wife, my dearest friend.” They didn’t know why that mattered. “It’s different from the way I love you. This guilty affection of mine that I have for you. I’m shameless, aren’t I, to yearn for you, my star. I shouldn’t love you, not when my heart is to belong wholly to another, not when I hurt you with this selfishness of mine, not when I am to be wed soon. I’m so selfish aren’t I, to ask you to love me when I love another. If I were a better person I would wish for you to find another person who loves you properly. But I don’t want you to leave. I don’t want you to go with someone else or back to the sea and leave me behind. I don’t want you to realize I was never worth it and hate me and never look back. Is it wrong to beg you to remain by my side? To let me stay in your heart for as long as it beats?” And the mermaid wanted to laugh because they would never do that. They would never hate their prince even if he was stupid and made them want to scream. They didn’t love him because they thought he was perfect, they loved him because he was himself and he was delightful and lovable. Maybe he was scared because the mermaid had left the sea to explore the land, but that was silly as well for they missed their family dearly and sat by the rocks to hear them sing to them as a way to say “I miss you” and they tossed gifts they found to the waters below in hopes of sharing the land treasures they found. Their love never faded no matter how far away they were. If they could visit, they would. But the ocean water burned their lungs and it was too dangerous for the others to risk being spotted, so they made due.

But the prince was on land and he could be by their side as much as he wanted for they would never shoo him away. Exploration was so much sweeter when he was there too. It was rare to find another so enthralled by the world just as they were. And so they lifted the prince’s hand and pressed a kiss to it as he had begun to reject the kisses on his face and tapped his wrist three times. And the prince shuddered and keened as they pulled him into a hug to sooth his silly mind. No matter what, the mermaid and the prince would be in each other’s life wouldn’t they? Not even an ocean could separate the mermaid from their family, so what could a silly thing like a marriage do? Soulmates were to be treasured, and their prince was one of their favorite treasures.

The prince spent the days before the wedding preparing and hanging out with them in between appointments. The mermaid was to be his mate of honor, standing by his side. They got fitted just as he did and attended the rehearsals, marveling at the extravagant fabrics and patterns. They were to be in a half-suit, half-dress outfit that the prince had chosen with them in mind. They pressed a kiss to his wrist when they had a moment alone, aware that the prince would flinch at any closeness in the view of others, and smiled when he shyly kissed their wrist back. The wedding rehearsals were boring and yet interesting. There was constant reshuffling and minute steps to ensure everyone was in the right place.

It was there the mermaid interacted with the bride-to-be for the first time. She was standing amongst the potential flower choices as they helped the servants create lanterns to send off into the sky after the ceremony. They caught her eye and after a moment she approached them, asking if they were the mate of honor. They nodded politely and gave her a soft smile. She tilted her head and remarked the prince had told her about them. Their smile widened as they silently chuckled and pointed to her with a teasing grin. “He told you about me?” A nod and a few rolls of their wrist. “A lot?” An enthusiastic nod. “How funny, I could say the same. He thinks highly of you.” And the mermaid’s smile was warm as they tilted their head questioningly, pointing to the flowers. “Which flowers am I choosing?” A nod. “I don’t know yet. Do you know his favorites?” Another nod. “Will you help me?” And the mermaid placed down the lantern they were working on and waved goodbye to the stunned servants to go help the princess choose flowers. She gave them a kind smile and nod as they waved goodbye to her. They missed the curious glint in her eyes and the way she looked at the prince after.

A few days before the wedding, the prince invited the mermaid on an adventure not unlike the ones they went on before. The prince called it one last bachelor party. They spent the whole day together, going to all their favorite shops and spots. The prince didn’t shy from their touch as they pulled him into a dance in the park as the musicians played music to celebrate the prince’s upcoming wedding. And they tucked flowers into his hair and bought him new knick-knacks to decorate his shelves and gifted him a pair of earrings they made themself when one of the servants suggested making the prince a wedding gift. Nothing too gaudy or eye-catching, just a pair of slight drop earrings with an iridescent scale at the bottom and two small pearls. They wanted to tell him that scales were theirs. They think he knew. They gently hooked one into his ear and replaced the one they were wearing with the other. And the prince stared at the jewelry hanging in their ears and touched the one in his ears as tears glazed his eyes. “You always know how to catch me off guard, don’t you. I don’t deserve you.” And the mermaid gently knocked upside the head and pulled him to the coast, to the place the prince found them originally. And quietly the sea, their siblings, began to sing. It’s a song of greetings, of curiosity, of excitement, of congratulations, of love, of temporary goodbyes. And the prince shudders from the vulnerability. They press a kiss to his wrist and sprawled out on his lap as he gently weaved his fingers through their hair. They were too tired to wonder what he means when he whispers, “I’m going to miss this. I really don’t deserve you.”

The mermaid doesn’t interact with the prince again until the wedding. He had carried them to their bed and retreated to his own by the time they awakened. They still saw him in the halls and the meetings, earring still hanging in his ear. The wedding was longer than the rehearsals. They checked on the prince in his dressing room after they got ready. The servants helping him fussed over them, complaining that their clothes weren’t orderly enough. The mermaid rolled their eyes. They liked the human clothes, but what was the point of making them so uncomfortable and intricate when there were better things to do than get dressed. The prince laughed at their expression and their eyes softened. Their prince was handsome in his suit, hair swept back and decorated with a circlet. The servants were pinning his cloak and flowers to his shoulder. The mermaid swept their eyes across him as he nervously watched them. “Do I look nice?” The mermaid gave the most tender nod they could, trying to fill the air with all the words they could not say. And the prince smiled brightly. The servants glanced away, soft but sad smiles on their faces. The mermaid’s expression shifted as they brought their hand to their ear where their earring still hung proudly. The prince froze and glanced away. The mermaid frowned silently. “I still have it of course. It just didn’t fit in with today.” The mermaid stared at him with a silent stare before shrugging and brushing it off. Something tightened in their chest.

The wedding was beautiful. As tradition, the wedding was on a large magnificent ship, anchored where the sunset was prettiest and the waves were gentle. The wedding was long. They didn’t realize the rehearsals skipped the majority of the talking points. The wedding was informative. The mermaid figured out what marriage was. They learned that it was a ceremony that joined two people together for what should be the rest of their lives. It's when two become one, when people give the other their all, what's mine is yours till death do us part. It is a new beginning where you shed the remnants of your past to look into the future hand in hand. The mermaid stared at the prince’s empty ear. Marriage was the highest level a relationship could reach in the laws of the lands. Your spouse was the true life partner, the true soulmate, the true love. Any other relationship that persisted was just lucky to stand beneath it. The mermaid watched them exchange rings and wondered if they had made a necklace or a bracelet, anything without “ring” in it, would the prince wear their gift or would anything they made be a representation of their “improper” love. They watched as the couple shared a kiss, on the lips not the wrist. They watched and watched and learned. The wedding was informative.

The prince’s words finally made some sense. The prince was right to apologize, was right to say he didn’t deserve them, to say they should find someone to love them properly. This wasn’t any type of love they wanted. This wishy-washy, halfhearted love that only existed in the shadows, left behind until the dark of night. Like they were meant to be ashamed, secretive, or guilty. They stared at the empty ear and remembered his words. “It didn’t fit in with today.” They didn’t fit in with today. They didn’t fit in with the prince’s idea of love. They looked around at the smiling faces and willed one onto theirs. This day was not about them. Nor would any day be after this. Because today was the day for new beginnings and abandoning the past. And that’s exactly how they would treat it. They danced with the other guests and raised toasts to the bride and grooms. They nodded as strangers talked about how perfect they were for each other with an indulgent smile. They grinned and batted their lashes at the prince charmings who had heard whispers of them and offered fake sympathy and leering eyes. They mingled and mingled and remembered not a name nor face only their mocking and pitying stares like they had made a fool of themself the whole time.

When they retired to their room they looked at themself in the mirror and dropped the smile. Their eyes were red and glazed, their hair was a mess, their clothes tossed to the side so they could breathe. They took a long shuddering breath and slumped to the ground. Their head hurt and the earring felt heavy. They took it off and covered their ears, pretending that was the reason they couldn’t hear themself scream. They stayed balled up on the floor sobbing until the moon was high in the sky, crying with them. The sea hummed and they uncurled at the sound. It guided them to the deck and to the rails where as they found their siblings singing their worries into the night sky. It was a song of concern, of worry, of inquiry, of comfort. It was a song of love and they found themself crying once more because they needed that. They had loved and loved and the only one on this stupid land who had promised to love them, truly love them, had in the end never meant it. They felt betrayed, because a promise had been broken over and over until it was meaningless. They felt stupid, because everyone had known it was never meant to be and they hadn’t believed his warnings. They felt hopeless, because they realized they would never be able to play the role of a lover and would probably live the rest of their life being left behind over and over again. They would die alone.

The thought was suffocating. It robbed the air from their lungs and they heaved another silent sob. The sea continued humming to them, soothing the pain in their chest. They leaned against the railing as they tried to calm their thudding heart. Maybe they should have been wiser. They had thrown themself into this world with an open heart and wide eyes and didn’t question for a moment whether or not it would care for their heart. Maybe they should have been more private with their love, looking for that one person who they could bind to them with the promise of treasuring it. Perhaps that was what marriage was for, a ceremony of promises for two people who knew that without it they would be alone in this world. Maybe they should have continued to love from afar. They had loved the land’s treasures before they had given up their tail. Maybe they were always meant to explore it alone, just like before. They thought of the prince’s enthusiastic commentary and the memories turned bitter. Their sibling’s songs sounded so sweet. They would never join in those harmonies again.

The mermaid pulled away from the railing with a new found hopelessness. They washed their tear stricken face off and pulled their hair into a bun, held with their favorite hair pin. They slipped on the loose, draping silks they had sewed themself and left their feet bare, tired of the pinching shoes the servants had shoved on their feet. They adorned themself in their favorite jewelry, ones they weren’t allowed to wear since they hadn’t matched the wedding theme. The earring still rested in the palm of their hand and they hesitated to put it on again. Their hesitation led them to the newlyweds' door. Quietly, they crept into the room and crouched by the side of the prince. He was sleeping peacefully, a small smile on his face. His wife cuddled up to his chest. The mermaid felt awkward and turned to leave, but they noticed a glint coming from the nightstand. It was the earring, delicately resting in the box they gave to him. They felt like laughing. So silly, the prince was. What was the point of keeping such a thing by his side? Would he wear it when his wife was away and look for its pair? Would he smile at it, hanging in his jewelry box, before moving on, ring never leaving his finger? Would it be just another collectible with an interesting tale? The mermaid had half the mind to take it, but wondered, what was the point? The earring was a representation of their love. It would serve its purpose, collecting dust until he bothered to shine it. The earring could be a memento, a fading memory, just like they were destined to be. So they mouthed out the words they would never get a chance to say and he would never hear and pressed a kiss to his temple. And they left as he never stirred.

The sea was still humming as they returned to the deck. They longed to hum back but their voice was traded away. Was it worth it? To be able never sing with his family? To never be able to scream and cry their torment to the people who could never listen? To never be able to explain their confusion, their frustration, their story? It would be lost in the waves. They would die and people would write their own story, describing it as some sort of a sad romance that ends in heartbreak and unrequited romantic love. And it wouldn’t be their story. They would be another faceless protagonist who failed to find the love everyone wanted and chose to die amongst the waves. And everyone would dab their eyes at how much they loved the prince, how dedicated they were. And everyone who knew them would nod along and tell their life like beautiful smudged memories, misreading the truth for the sake of a false narrative. Why was this how the world worked? Why were they supposed to live in this emotional exile? They didn’t know. But they did know they couldn’t bear to be on this awful ship a moment longer.

The sea screamed as they placed a foot on the rail. They smiled reassuringly as the waters began to ripple frantically, slivers of iridescent tails flickering through the dark waters. Their siblings sang songs of warning and fear, for the sea would drown their tired lungs and the shore was too far to swim. The mermaid placed their other foot on the rails because if they did not make it back to shore, they knew their siblings would be right beside them as they took their final breath. in the sea, they would not die alone. Let them become a bittersweet memory, a children’s tale, a martyr for the surface’s shallow love. Let their love be forgotten and let it be freed. They would play the role perfectly. And they basked in that heart-wrenching song because it has been so long since they felt so loved, so heard. A scream from behind them harmonized with their siblings’ song and all of a sudden multiple hands were pulling them down from where they teetered. They recognized the various servants who they had interacted with over the course of their stay.

They knew the seamstress who had very specific opinions on the colors and textures and stitching, whose favorite job was cutting out patterns because it had always been her job back when she sewed with her aunts, who taught them how to embroider tiny flowers because it was the only embroidery she could do but she was proud of it. They knew the stablehand who used to be scared of horses before he took the job but grew to like them, who brought carrots and apples for the horses at the end of the week, who would read his poetry about the various sunsets he saw to them because he was too scared to hear what the others would say. They knew the housemaid who hated having to work in the West Wing because of all the wind making it particularly sandy and therefore dusty, who playfully chastised them for their messy appearance and helped them clean up before the stewards saw, who told them stories of her late twin sister who she missed dearly but couldn't talk about because it was so hard to articulate her loss. The old chef who had a soft soothing voice when he wasn’t yelling at the other chefs, who drank ginger and lemon honey tea even if it made his nose scrunch up because his daughter always told him his throat was going to be sore, who spoke four languages and had rough hands from his past as a mercenary. And so many more. They knew these people. That’s why they knew they shouldn't care this much.

Not to the point where some of them were sobbing while the others were scolding the mermaid, trying to keep their voices from breaking. Not to the point that there was a desperate blockade between them and the railing as the others held them down. Not to the point that they would ask why over and over again like they actually cared to know. The mermaid knew the servants and they listened. They listened to them only call them “the prince’s guest“ like he was their only connection in the castle. Like that was all they were, a guest affiliated with the prince. They heard them warn the others not to get too attached because they would eventually tie the knot with the prince and later that some noble was going to sweep them off their feet. Like their departure was inevitable. Like their presence would cease to exist the moment they got a spouse. They heard them speak of them like a distant tragedy. Like their pain was an ocean away, only to be mourned from afar. They heard them and knew they didn't care. That they weren't invested in them. And here they were, the spectators of their misery, halting the narrative. It was strange. It was familiar. It was-

The sea continued to scream and cry and that turned into a song. It was a song of longing. Of curiosity. Of love. Of opportunity. Of sacrifice. Of adoration. Of hope. Of confusion. Of heartache. Of despair. Of disillusionment. Of disappointment. Of hopelessness. Of resignation.

And now of guilt, shame, and resentment.

And the moon sang a song of one of its children falling in love with the land above and one of its children. And that child gave up their tail for legs, their sweet voice for understanding, their heart’s anchor for the ground beyond the surface. And that child wandered those lands, joined by the prince that they grew to love just as well. And that child loved, loved everything it saw. And that child was love. But the surface did not love as easily as the ones below. And the child was drifting. And the prince offered them company and an anchor and a soulmate, a connection.

But he, like the surface, loved singularly. And then the child hurt because their love was not enough, never enough, never clear enough. And the child realized just what it was like to love silently in a land of public promises and a one true love. How were they expected to ground themself when nobody thought to throw a rope, thinking that there was only one to be offered, thinking the child would meet their perfect match if they just floated a little longer. And just like that the child was drifting once more. They could love all they wanted, but it wouldn’t clear the distance. And they forgot what it was to love, lost in that loneliness. That hopelessness. And that child almost drowned for as much the sea loved them, they no longer belonged in its waters. And that child was saved because they were loved, and they were love.

Love.

The servants cried harder and the mermaid realized with a start they had begun to cry too. The servants found them, saved them, because they loved them. Each hand wrapped around them felt like plank bridging the gap and they let themself slump down. The sea’s teary song lulled them to sleep. And servants carried the mermaid to the servant’s quarters as they weren’t ready to let them leave their sight. Not yet. And they watched and really saw them. Their deep eyebags and puffy eyes. The redness covering their cheeks and noise. Their wrinkled brow and bitten lips. The vulnerability curl of their resting figure. They looked and they saw and they memorized each part of that moment. The moment the mermaid's fate changed. And before they succumbed to the moon and sea’s duet, they pressed a kiss to the mermaid’s forehead one at a time. It wasn’t true love’s kiss, no that was something they would try to leave in the past. It was a kiss that meant “I love you and I adore you.” It was the beginning of a promise. It was the beginning of change. It was the beginning of a new chapter. What better day than the wedding?

In the morning, the mermaid awoke, still exhausted, still hurting, but hopeful for the first time in a while. The servants sat down and apologized and carefully asked yes or no questions, intent on finally listening and understanding for the first time. The prince woke up and smiled at his still sleeping wife, unaware of the night that had just passed. The earring was still on the nightstand and he fiddled with it, carefully tracing the iridescent scale with a complicated look on his face. The servants carried on their duties, one sticking beside the mermaid who still looked drained from the events before. Some of them wished to call out to them and offer a small smile, but the thought was sullied by realization that they had never learned the mermaid’s name.

The servants first tried to figure out the mermaid’s actual name. However, mermaid names can’t be spoken in human tongue, composed of various sounds and notes that were linked in rapid sequence that pronounced what amounted to pretty garble. All they could understand was that the name meant curious, fondness, smiling, speedy, talkative, love. They initially didn’t want anything that focused too much on that word, love. There was an underlying guilt associated with it. But some of the other servants found that counterproductive. After all, didn’t this whole thing happen because they were closed minding about what love was? Wasn’t it guilt and shame that nearly dragged the mermaid into the ocean once more? And so one day, a maid heard a local street musician sing a song about a cheery sort of love, she couldn’t help but feel like it suited the mermaid. The name “Amore” spread among the servants. The servant girl nervously approached the mermaid and asked if they could call them that. She received an enthusiastic nod and a kiss on the temple in response. Soon after everyone was calling the mermaid Amore in hopes of receiving a bright smile and kiss on the cheek. It was striking to see how much a name made a difference. It felt less awkward to call out to them and it was less awkward when they responded. The gap was closing.

The old chef took the next step in closing it further. He pulled them aside one day as he fiddled with a well-loved book. His mother-in-law had bought it for him. It was a book about sign language that the family had used to teach themselves when his husband’s hearing began fading due to his sickness. He hadn’t thought about it when he first met the mermaid. Now he was thinking about it. The mermaid took to it like a fish in water. Later, they would learn that sign language was quite close to mermaid written language, using symbols rather than words made from letters. It was easier to visualize than remember the scrambled sequences of words. The first few signs they wanted to learn after the basics were, “Sorry,” “Miss you,” “Thank you,” and “I love you.” They were particularly desperate to learn those four. They disappeared that afternoon to the coast, and that night the sea sang again. This time a song of relief, of love, of family, of yearning, of hope, of acceptance. Amore learned the sign for “Family” and “Siblings.” The servants smiled anytime they heard the sea sing. They all slowly became fluent enough that Amore was able to fill in the gaps of their story left behind from the servants’ observations and the Moon’s tale.

Amore never was in love with the prince. The idea of a true love or a love inherently greater than didn’t exist in mermaid culture. Merfolk just formed bonds and connections, regardless of any preconceived categories. The water flows without care for how the people think it should and rather than trying to control the current, it’s better to swim along them. Go with the flow. Some connect better than others, but every connection, however distant, is worth being treasured. Amore expressed frustration and disturbance at being treated as if their affection was something to be frowned upon as well as being disregarded for the sake of an imaginary ideal. It wasn’t embarrassing to love someone, requited or not. It wasn’t shameful or isolating. They were treated like a pitiful, homewrecking idiot when nobody cared about what they actually meant or wanted. They never wanted to be the prince’s one and only or for a new person to show up and replace him in their heart. They wouldn’t have cared if he hadn’t loved them in the same way, they cared because he did but felt he couldn’t. He acted ashamed of them. Like they were an embarrassment. They all did. They didn’t want a prince charming to come fix them. They didn’t need to be fixed. They just needed to be heard. The servants once again apologized, this time barely able to look Amore in their furious, glossy eyes.

But slowly the hurt faded from their eyes as the servants worked to make up to them. Amore still remembered the pain, the heartache, the despair, but they remembered the fondness, the wonder, and the happiness. They apologized again for scaring them that night, lost in the haze of their curse and anguish. It was rash and it was scary. They missed the prince, yes, but that wasn’t why they stood there. It was a hurt that had been growing for a while. The prince was like a soulmate, like an alternate version of their being smiling back at them. His absence meant nothing to his rejection, to his ashamed gaze. The servants asked if they were going to talk to him, but the mermaid just shrugged helplessly. “He will talk to me when he wants to. I’m not making more effort than he will. I’ve already done that.” The servants asked if they were scared that they would drift apart, but the mermaid merely laughed at them, silent but no less amused. And they went back to trying to teach the mermaid curse words in sign before the stewardess caught on.

When the newlyweds returned from their honeymoon, the atmosphere had noticeably shifted. Amore had always edged the line of guest to serve and parttime-volunteer servant, but that line had blurred significantly while the prince was away. They were more often than not hanging with the servants who were on break, keeping conversation with the stable hands and the maid, or assisting the stewardess and the butler. The prince finally encountered the mermaid again when he was speaking to the stewardess. He was asking about how things had been going while they were away when there was a knock on the door. The stewardess politely greeted Amore, not batting an eye at the prince’s confused glance and thanked them when they signed something to her and handed her a few files. They signed something else and left with a small wave at the speechless prince. The stewardess smiles and said that morale had improved.

Little moments like this would pop up with the prince unable to get himself to talk to… Amore. What a perfect name. He was scared and instead pined from afar. He had a new wife to entertain and he had made his choice the moment he took the earring off. It rested in his breast pocket, hidden away against his heart. Amore was healing, moving on without him into the arms of people who actually deserved them. And one day they would stare at each other across the chasm he made and smile and he wouldn’t cry. He couldn’t. If he cried he would have to acknowledge the hole in his heart and he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from wanting to fill it. But he couldn’t bare to have carve Amore back out again, not when the longing had become so constant it was normal. So he smiled and hoped his wife didn’t notice the grimace underneath.

She did. Of course she did, she was a scholar and more than that she had common sense. Of course things made more sense when she had heard the door creak open on her wedding night and she watched her husband’s dearest friend press a kiss on his temple like a bittersweet goodbye. She remembered hearing the sea scream and sing and hum as the moon spun a story of the stranger she had grown curious about. She watched her husbands chest rise and fall soundly and wondered if she would wake him. But he slept deep and the song was fading. She went back to sleep and couldn’t tell if it was a dream or not. However, the door was still cracked and the servants had red eyes. The tale of the mermaid and her husband’s longing stares at the earring never quite faded from her mind since that night.

Some part of her, in her etiquette teacher’s voice, muttered that it was scandalous and highly concerning that her husband would think longing about anything or anyone but her. She decided that made no sense seeing as she loved her research and by extension her lab assistants and research partners to the point she still found herself longing for one of them to call out to her and drag her into the study to spend hours going over their work. She wore her ring with pride and her husband took up a big part of her heart, but he was not the only thing she loved. She had kept that secret underlock and key when they sent her away while excited smiles and cheerful congratulations. She realized that they had already accepted they were loosing her and she realized it all over again when the few missives they sent never asked much other than how were she and her husband. She loved him. He loved her. But she couldn’t her wonder if they had become different people the moment they said “I do.” She wondered how much of her was still cradled in her loved ones’ hearts, tucked safely away from her, just waiting. She wondered how much of her husband was still nestled in the heart of the mermaid, now called Amore.

So, she went to go see. The servants were a bit confused, but they didn’t cause any trouble for their new boss. From the few interactions she and Amore had, she had never seemed antagonistic and Amore had never seemed uncomfortable. She approached them and invited them to listen to her play the lyre. She was composing a piece that she wanted to play for her husband at the banquet. She wanted one of his closest friends to listen to it first to know he would like it. They flinced when she called them that, like they didn’t believe her. After a moment he signed something that the servants translated as “flower.” She smiled. “Yes, like the flowers. He was very pleased by the way. Thank you for that.” Amore smiled and the other servants glanced at each other before nudging them up. One offer to help translate if she needed it. She made a note to herself to learn sign for later invitations. Another time she asked them to help with picking pastries, then a book, then a knick knack. She surprised them with knowing a bit more each sign each time and they surprised her by knowing so much about her husband. They were intune in a way that she had no chance of being with how quickly they had gotten married. As time went on she asked them to officially teach her sign and their written language in exchange for reading them scientific journals so they could transcribe. Before either of them knew it, she and Amore were friends.

One day Amore asked why she approached them and she shrugged. “I wanted to know more about the other person who takes up space in my husband’s heart. Neither of you are particularly subtle. It’s very obvious you two are dancing around each other and are absolutely besotted with each other, platonic or otherwise. I know he loves me and I’ll be the only one to wear his ring, but he carries that earring by his heart and that means something to him. You mean something to him, to everyone here. I wanted to see if you would mean something to me, and you do. Hope. You make me hope that maybe more people will change their minds about all love can be and I’ll get to be with my friends again and you two will exist in whatever you call that relationship of yours.” And Amore laughed and shrugged back at her. They didn’t know what to call it either.

The prince watched as the two slowly became friends and suddenly his longing came back at full force. He couldn’t tell if he envied his wife or Amore more. They were two dearest people and they were able to freely interact while he couldn’t. He didn’t want to be a bad husband to her by not prioritzing her above all else because he couldn’t guarantee that if Amore remained in his life. And he really was a great husband to her, attentive and as affectionate as she was comfortable with. They enjoyed each other’s company and saw the other in a great light, content that this the one they were going to be supporting at their side. But they were still different people with different needs and while she was willing to admit she couldn’t play every role that he needed and neither could he for her, he wasn’t. Not yet. She doesn’t want to neglect those delicate wonder-filled parts of him until the die, but she isn’t able to noursih them. And if he would stop being stupid he would accept Amore could. It wasn’t a crime to share a deep love of the world and it’s people nor was it shameful to share that adoration with another person. Not when it was that kind of love that flourished best in the presence of another like-minded person. Who shares that same love and wonder, who will see the precious in everything and won't need words to communicate when feeling is right there. she doesn't feel in the way they do, doesn't sense emotion in the air and respond in like. She doesn’t want that part of him to die for her.

The more he longed, the more he pulled away, plagued by wishes he could never bring himself to ask for. His wife would sometimes tell him about her and Amore’s adventures, bringing him back trinkets if they went to pick up new her materials from the library or to listen to a scientific seminar with Amore as her escort while he was doing paperwork. He would pout and huff that he wished he could come to and she would always point out that he often could if he would stop avoiding Amore. And they would fall quiet until she sighed and talked about the new releases. One day she finally sat him down and handed him a letter. It was written in her clean cursive but the sender was written as Amore. She assured him that he wanted this to be sent just as much as they did.

The letter was quite simple. “Stop being stupid. I miss you and your wife is smarter than you and thinks that we should just talk to each other. I’ll be waiting by the coast where you found me.” And the prince allowed himself to rush there. They talked it out, the prince actually having learned some sign when he noticed Amore communicating with the servants. He always understood them to extent before, but it was nice to not have to play guessing games. Amore expressd their hurt, but their fondness for him. The prince was apologetic but nervous. The prince slowly pulled the earring from his breast pocket and hung it in Amore’s ear. Amore mirrored him. After a moment of soft breathing, the prince pressed a kiss to Amore’s temple, then cheek, then to inside of their wrist. He smiled when they gave him a breathless giggle, signing “Ticklish.”

They tentatively begin rebuilding what they had, this time without the secrecy and shame. They go on their little friend dates and trade stories and go sailing on days they are both free. And the servants still existed in Amore’s heart and he still sought them out and shooed the prince away when it was their time. And the princess still existed inside her husband's heart even when he was with his dearest friend. And she wrote a letter to her own friends and cherished every letter sent back to her, missing them greatly. And the nights she spent studying and experimenting, the prince gladly spent watching the stars with Amore, curled up against each other. She still asked Amore for help with music. And Amore pressed kisses to both their temples when he left to hang out with the servants. Because Amore loved and was loved and was love.

The seas didn’t cry anymore, and the Moon shined sweetly on them. Her child was happy.

The End