The Second Sunset

by Mackenzie L.

Written for Geneva.

*Disclaimer: I do not own "The Little Mermaid." No profit is made from this work of fiction.

When he'd first asked her if she would like to join him on a tour of his kingdom, she had fervently nodded her consent, having forgotten that he would not be showing her coral reefs or swimming with her over vast valleys of sand. No, Eric's kingdom was not like Atlantica.

Water and air were so different. She found it ironic that although air felt much more open and free, she could not swim through it the way she did through water. If she wanted to see something that was on the other side of a wall, she couldn't rise above and glide over it. She had to find some other way, with only her two feet constantly connected to the ground. It was in a way frustrating, looking for doors all the time. It was in a way exhausting, having to move from one point to another in what was clearly not the most efficient route. She was crippled without her fins, in the most wonderful way. Having legs was all she'd ever wanted, and now that she had them, she couldn't help but bask in all of the frustrations and limitations they came with.

After all, fins were so much more restricting.

With legs she could stretch and move in ways she'd never imagined before. She couldn't fly but she could run. She couldn't float, but she could stand. Planting her feet on hard ground made her feel powerful and proud. There was no worrying over whether the current would whisk her away unexpectedly. Instead of currents, they had something called wind. It was like a current, only it didn't control her. It was just a lovely rush of changing temperature — like a long drawn-out breath, gently whipping her clothes and hair. She could easily swim — no, walk — against it.

The world above water was full of so many wonders to explore. Colors were brighter and bolder, almost shocking under pure, unfiltered sunlight. Underwater everything was dull and dim, tinted with green and blue. She'd never realized such colors like these existed. A full spectrum of them swirled around her, popping out of corners and shimmering like jewels on the horizon.

Sounds were not muffled the way they were underwater. They echoed wildly from all directions, and conversations that were being had more than twenty feet away could be heard from where she stood. And as if these surprises were not enough, she had been introduced to a whole new sense — smell. It was strange and exotic, almost frightening when she first experienced it. With each breath she took she did not inhale air on its own, but every essence of everything surrounding her. Salt from the sea, sweet flowers, and earthy grass, and millions of other scents she didn't understand.

Her world paled in comparison to his. How elated she was to finally be a part of it.

She may have been a bit too elated at times.

She didn't care that all the other humans were staring at her, wondering why she had to touch everything and look at everything up close. Perhaps they were confused by her eternal silence, and how she betrayed that silence with a permanent grin. They probably disapproved of her childish excitement and short attention span, but none of it mattered to her. Prince Eric did not judge her like the others did. He understood her in a way that nobody ever had — especially not her own family.

Ariel could tell that the Prince sometimes struggled to make conversation with her. They were in a challenging situation, being that he wasn't even able to call her by name. He was limited to asking her "yes" or "no" questions, to which she could only nod or shake her head. There was a certain spectrum of eagerness or boredom she could use to convey her emotions regarding his propositions, but much of the time she failed to communicate her exact feelings to him. He sometimes ventured to suggest they move on to some other activity when she started getting distracted. He was very attentive to her needs — so attentive that Ariel began to forget that she was unable to voice those needs on her own.

And yet, in spite of their communicative disadvantages, Ariel was certain that she'd never lived a more fulfilling day before in her life. She didn't need a voice to be happy. She could do this. She could prove the Sea Witch wrong. She could keep her legs... She could make the prince fall in love with her.

A ripple of nervousness went through her when she thought of Ursula's impending curse. Before the sun sets on the third day...

Ariel knew she still had time, but would it be enough? With Flounder's loyal encouragement, Scuttle's overzealous enthusiasm, and Sebastian's begrudging persistence, she was sure they could win. Ariel was never one to settle for less than what she wanted, but lately she was beginning to realize just how crucial her situation was. All of it had started, she supposed, because of a shallow wish for human legs. Now it was a convoluted war between her desire for legs and her desire for the prince.

She wanted to be human, yes. But the only reason she wanted to be human was so she could have him.

The more Ariel thought about Ursula's implications, the less she cared about her legs and her lungs and her sense of smell. The novelty of having a human body would wear off with time, but her obsession with Eric would not. The feelings she had for him only grew stronger.

She wondered if he noticed that. He seemed to notice everything else.

"Do you like music?" he asked her suddenly, breaking into her thoughts.

Ariel paused, her eyes focusing on the quartet of people playing strange looking instruments in the corner of the town square. The melody was so full, so uplifting — each note gloriously significant. Nothing could sound like this under the sea, she thought.

She nodded slowly, entranced by the song.

"Do you play any instruments?"

For the first time that day, Ariel mourned the loss of her voice. How she wished she could tell him! Yes, I love music! I play any instrument I can get my hands on, and I love to sing! All my life I have sung, but now...

While looking into Prince Eric's eyes, Ariel was distracted by a faint flicker of fear that she might never sing again. She tore away from his earnest gaze and shook her head sadly.

"Do you... Do you dance?"

Slowly, Ariel looked up. She'd heard something different in his voice when he asked this particular question. It was not his obligation to continue the conversation, but rather pure curiosity which inspired him to ask it.

She knew what dancing was, in a sense. She'd seen it depicted in the books and paintings she found in shipwrecks and along the shore. She had watched the sailors dance on their ships to a drunken tarry. But she'd never done it herself.

She glanced back at the square where several couples had begun to dance, their bodies precariously linked together by tangling arms. A soft glow began in her chest at the thought of dancing that way with the prince. Could his tentative question have truly been an invitation?

Before she could turn to look back at him, she felt the gentle pressure of his hand on the small of her back, leading her to the center of the cobblestone square.

She thought she had mastered the use of her legs — up until now. With his arms around her, she barely remembered how to stand up, let alone move along with him. She should have felt stronger, being so close to him; instead she felt her legs becoming weak and wobbly, the way they were when she'd washed up on shore and tried to stand for the first time.

Don't let me fall, she thought in her head. Her hands spoke for her in the desperate way they clutched his arms. Before she knew what was happening, he'd slipped his hands around her waist and lifted her in the air, and it felt like riding the crest of an unexpected wave.

Everything seemed so sudden. She had no time to process the details like she could while walking through the village. Because now she was not just watching from the side; she was wholly and completely part of this. The dance. The movement of a human body, so dependent upon another. It was consuming. And the way he stared at her — so earnestly. She wondered if, using only his eyes, Prince Eric could pry open her very soul and peek inside, as if it were as delicate as an oyster shell.

Her body felt unnaturally warm from the constant movement. It did not take long for her to succumb to exhaustion. There was no water to help her here. Gravity took a greater toll on people above the surface of the ocean, and with no water to cool her down, the heat soon became intolerable.

She welcomed the mild pain as a part of being human, and she rejoiced in it. She laughed in spite of it, though she made no sound. He laughed too, but his laughter did produce sound — an enviable sound at that. His voice was deep but his laughter was youthful, and it carried far, and it shuddered through heart like a ship through shallow water. When he touched her he had dropped the anchor, and there he stayed, a sailor claiming proud territory.

Ariel ignored the stares of the village people as they watched the scene in awe. She wondered if Eric's actions were done as a rebellion against what was rigid and couth here. He struck her as a shy sort of person, but he didn't seem to mind that he was now the object of everyone's attention. Surely they recognized him as the prince. Ariel lost her footing briefly, recalling the words Grimsby had uttered the night she first laid eyes on Eric. The entire kingdom wants to see you happily settled down with the right girl...

So that was the cause for all the staring.

After some time, the people dispersed, turning their attentions away either out of bemusement or respect. The music had long since died down, but still the prince danced with her. He was doing all of the work now, putting forth all the effort to keep her upright. He had slowed down considerably from all the twirls and lifts he had thrilled her with before. Now they were simply pressed together, body to body, legs somehow moving in a similar, sleepy rhythm.

Still, he stared at her, and his stare held a weight ten times that of the crowd who'd watched them before. She could feel his stare even when she looked away, and that was even more intolerable than the heat.

Eventually it became too much, and she lost her balance completely.

He caught her with shaking hands, and she was reminded strongly of the moment he'd found her on the shore dressed in nothing but a tattered boat sail.

"I'm so sorry. You must be tired." He sounded upset with himself.

But Ariel didn't want to stop. She wanted to keep dancing with him, no matter how exhausted she became, no matter how much she perspired, no matter the pain in her legs.

She looked up at him in her usual imploring way, depending on him to give her some sort of direction. This time he was the one who looked away. He almost looked bashful.

"Let's rest for a while," he murmured, leading her away from the square.

They kept walking, arm in arm, until her shoes sank into the sand. She looked up and they were on the beach. A nostalgic smile stretched across her face, and her expression was perfectly mirrored by her prince.

How wonderful it was to meet such a man, who shared her love for the sea.

For a moment Ariel utterly forgot how tired she was, and she sprinted into the curling waves. The water welcomed her like it knew exactly who she was. Prince Eric was a bit more hesitant about approaching the waves, so she decided it must be her turn to guide him for a change.

Without thinking, she reached for his hand and tugged him into the water. He looked surprised at first, then he smiled – an impossibly beautiful, overwhelming, knee-weakening smile. She felt a little bit like a jellyfish.

Oh, to hear him laugh, to see that smile envelop his features, unrestrained and filling. It was like her finest dream. As they braved the crashing waves together, they were almost dancing again, surrounded by a swirling embrace of spray and salt. The air was faintly luminous, and so clear, she felt they could see to the edge of this world. Upon the horizon where sea met sky, the sun floated in glowing orange bliss.

Sunset.

It was sunset already?

Ariel was overcome by a violent pang at the breathtaking sight — it felt like a stingray had zapped her heart. All at once she collapsed into the water and was carried away like a helpless piece of driftwood. And as the sea swallowed her, blocking out her senses, she heard one ominous echo chanting in the depths of the void:

"Before the sun sets on the third day..."

All around her, the waves swooped and tugged. Without her fins she had no control, and she quickly began to panic. The wet sand swept like a heavy velvet quilt around her limbs, weighing her down, trapping her underwater. Her human lungs were inferior down here. If she couldn't breathe, she would die.

Just as the blackness began to close in around her, a glint of something brightly colored awakened the water, and with the help of some mysterious force she broke the surface. As preoccupied as she was, gasping for air, she barely noticed that her arms were once again tangled with those of her faithful dancing partner.

"Are you alright?" he sounded only slightly panicked, as if falling into the water wasn't life-threatening. Ariel held back a cough and blinked the salt away from her eyes as he dragged her back to the rocky shore. "You scared me for a minute there," he added with a chuckle. "I know you really like the water, but let's save swimming for another day when the waves aren't so rough."

Ariel looked back over her shoulder at the sea that had tried to consume her. A flicker of neon fins retreating gave her an unmistakable clue as to who had rescued her from drowning before. Flounder.

She shook her head, covering a teary smile. She promised herself to be more careful next time.

Never did she think that the water could be her enemy. Humans were so fragile, she thought. She'd taken underwater breathing for granted, and now she felt even weaker than before. If her legs had felt tired before, they now felt like two limp strands of seaweed. With the help of her prince, Ariel found herself safely tucked against a dry sand dune, far from the water's reach.

Slightly self-conscious, she gathered a handful of her hair and tried to discreetly squeeze the salty water out of it. Still standing, Eric looked pityingly down at her. "You're soaked. Let me take you back to the palace so you can dry off."

Ariel forcefully shook her head. She was suddenly filled with a sense of dread at the thought of returning to his palace, as if going back now would force the night to end faster. She wanted to sit here and savor the sunset — one of only a precious three she had — with her prince.

"You sure?" he asked, looking dubious. "It's not a far walk." He paused then and winced, as if realizing something. "I would carry you, of course."

As light as her heart felt at the thought of being carried by him all the way back to the palace, she again refused.

"If you insist." He shrugged and settled himself into the sand beside her.

For a while they enjoyed the sound of the waves breaking on shore and the ambiance of the dimming sun. It was peaceful enough, and Eric didn't seem so pressured to talk.

However, after a while he spoke more candidly than he'd ever spoken before.

"You're a funny girl."

She quirked her eyebrow at him.

"What I meant is that most girls would be very upset if their dress got soaked in sea water," he amended, gesturing to her skirt. "But you're obviously not bothered by it."

She stared expectantly at him.

"Which is good," he finished with a resolute nod of his head.

She looked ahead with a proud smile, and he laughed. His laughter was infectious — so warm and bright — it ignited within her the urgent desire to move closer to him. So she did.

She couldn't have moved two inches when she felt a distracting pinching sensation in her shoe. By instinct she reached frantically for her foot, eyes squeezed shut in pain. It still baffled her how sensitive human nerve endings could be.

"Ah, that's the downside to walking on the beach — the pebbles," he said. "We should take our shoes off."

Ariel watched in nervous wonder as the prince began to expertly remove his own boots. All he had to do was tug, and the leather slid right off his leg. But hers were not as simple in structure. Both of her shoes were adorned with little complicated copper contraptions that kept them tight on her feet. She had no clue how to remove them.

Luckily, she didn't have time to even try.

Never taking his eyes off of hers, the prince slipped one complicated copper shoe off and closed his fingers around the slender curve of her foot. The ticklish sensation reminded her of the way seaweed would dance against her fins when she swam. Except this was even nicer. She was blushing harder than a clown fish by the time he'd removed both shoes and set them neatly beside his boots.

Somehow, having bare feet made her feel more comfortable with the whole situation.

They reluctantly fell into shy silence again, and Ariel wished dearly that she could do something about it. Perhaps it was time for her to try initiating conversation somehow.

She tapped his shoulder to get his attention, and he immediately looked over at her, intensely alert. Inspired by the gentle fire of his attention, Ariel felt more empowered to speak in silence than ever before. Embracing her creative side, she opened her palms up like a flower, positioning them as if they were holding the sun. Then she stretched her arms out as if to span the horizon, and slowly brought her hands back to her heart.

A look of wonder crossed his face, making him look twice as handsome.

"You like to watch the sunset?"

She nodded sadly, wishing she could tell him the whole truth.

"Can I tell you a secret?"

As a joke, she feigned shock and promptly covered her mouth with her hand. He laughed at first, then stopped when he realized the deprecating message behind her gesture. She couldn't share a secret even if she wanted to.

He readjusted himself so that he was closer to her. He may not have even noticed, but she did.

"My bedchamber used to be on the West wing of the palace," he described, pointing westward. "When I was a boy, I would watch the sunset from my windows in the evening. Then the night before my 18th birthday, I decided I wanted to move my room to the East wing instead." When Ariel looked at him in confusion, he explained in a hushed voice, "I'd much rather see the sun rise than the sun set. The sunset is so... melancholy. The sunrise is... hopeful. I want to see the sunrise when I wake up in the morning."

She wanted to tell him that she agreed. That sunset was a sign of corruption, yet one more omen of her approaching deadline. It was beautiful, but it was deadly. She wanted to tell him that she maybe had only one more sunset to watch in her life before she fell victim to the Sea Witch's curse. She wanted to beg him to kiss her, to love her, to break the spell right here and right now. He was so oblivious... So happily unaware of his importance in her mad scheme for life or death.

She felt terrible. All washed up, and bloated with shame. Without thought, her fingertips tenderly brushed his cheek and she felt his body slacken slightly. The gesture was meant to be comforting, but she felt a tiny sparkle of heat stretch through her hand as she touched him.

He reached up to let his fingers encase her hand, holding her touch in place as if he were scared to lose it.

Fascinated, she studied the veins in his wrist, which stretched up his arm in elegant blue lines, like fine Gorgonian coral. His skin was not as brown as many of the other humans she'd encountered in their daily travels. Somehow she thought it was a contrast to his brave shoulders and smoldering jawline. She supposed his limited exposure to sunlight had something to do with his fairer complexion. Perhaps he too was a prisoner to his throne, the same as she. Perhaps he'd been told countless times never to venture too far away from his home palace, just as she had.

Dark skin or light skin, she decided he would be just as beautiful either way. This close, he was stunning.

"I'd like to get to know you better."

Her eyes widened at his somewhat forward remark. It was welcome, of course — surprisingly sweet because of his phrasing. With Eric it was never "I want," but rather "I'd like."

Ariel kept her eyes focused on his, hungrily hoping for his next proposition. She could see the invitation lingering in his clear blue gaze, tempting her to risk fate as the second of her three precious sunsets expired on the horizon.

"Have you ever seen the lagoon at twilight?"