The Wandering MooninterrobamJuly 11 2012, 17:01:18 UTC
(A/N: Please enjoy this bittersweet minifill.)
The Wandering Moon
Every time it hurt with a fury that she could not conceive, and every time it was utterly worth it.
The land was buried deep in her bones. It called to her, she might laugh to call it a siren's song, every hour of every day. Yet the sea was her master, and her master's master the nomadic moon, so on that fateful day when the shining dust from her father's spell had become fully bound with her legged body, it too had become enslaved to the moon. When he father had told her as much her face had been bitter, but strong.
“Every month.” She had smiled to Eric, touching his face with her hand “Some people aren't lucky enough to find their true love once in a lifetime, nonetheless once a month.” He had laughed along with her, but she had seen his eyes turn cold.
The legs were the worst part, she had expected that from the first transformation, but it took her by surprise every time how deep and sharp a pain it was. The itch of scales retreating into skin, the swollen fins that became feet, and above even that the agonizing splitting right down her spine. She had beached herself at the twilight of the first full moon, eager to be with the Prince as soon as possible, and Eric had held her hand as she wept, choked, gasped for new air. After they had returned to the castle, after they had become sticky and ruffled between Eric's sheets, he had assured her that she did not have to bear such pain for him.
“It doesn't need to be like this. We can still love each other, me on the land and you in the sea. I have a ship.”
“I haven't forgotten.” Her new knees had ached. “The pain doesn't matter, and you know well that I'm more than willing to sacrifice for you, for the land.”
“Will it dull?” He had asked with caution, looking upon her naked body fearfully.
“Of course it will.” It never did, but she did not let herself transform in his presence again, and years of mischief had painted her a keen liar. She didn't want him to worry about her, she was stronger than even she knew.
They did not make love every time. This surprised Ariel, but not unpleasantly. Sometimes they attended plays, other times they walked together in the forest behind the castle, still others they simply ate and talked the whole night long. Ariel loved what she could learn of the land, and Eric often offered her a trinket or a book for her to pursue. She would tell him in turn of her friends undersea, of the tides and the moods of the water. He laughed to hear of Flounder's antics, Scuttle's words for things now known to her as “forks” and “pipes”. She laughed to hear the politics and scandals of the day, for some reason she found the royal courts more intriguing on dry land than salted sea. To every meeting there came an end, whether they wanted it or not. Ariel allowed Eric to see her off, to carry her back to the shoreline at sunrise. It didn't hurt as much for a human's body to become that of merfolk. It felt a bit cramped, a bit pressed, for a minute or two. The scales did itch something fierce, and shed unevenly for the next week. It bothered Ariel that a tail was so natural and painless on her body.
“Next month?” Eric said, every time, with a half questioning tone. As if she'd be doing anything else that day.
“Every month.” Ariel smiled, every time, her voice firm and doubtless, as she retreated into the sea.
The Wandering Moon
Every time it hurt with a fury that she could not conceive, and every time it was utterly worth it.
The land was buried deep in her bones. It called to her, she might laugh to call it a siren's song, every hour of every day. Yet the sea was her master, and her master's master the nomadic moon, so on that fateful day when the shining dust from her father's spell had become fully bound with her legged body, it too had become enslaved to the moon. When he father had told her as much her face had been bitter, but strong.
“Every month.” She had smiled to Eric, touching his face with her hand “Some people aren't lucky enough to find their true love once in a lifetime, nonetheless once a month.” He had laughed along with her, but she had seen his eyes turn cold.
The legs were the worst part, she had expected that from the first transformation, but it took her by surprise every time how deep and sharp a pain it was. The itch of scales retreating into skin, the swollen fins that became feet, and above even that the agonizing splitting right down her spine. She had beached herself at the twilight of the first full moon, eager to be with the Prince as soon as possible, and Eric had held her hand as she wept, choked, gasped for new air. After they had returned to the castle, after they had become sticky and ruffled between Eric's sheets, he had assured her that she did not have to bear such pain for him.
“It doesn't need to be like this. We can still love each other, me on the land and you in the sea. I have a ship.”
“I haven't forgotten.” Her new knees had ached. “The pain doesn't matter, and you know well that I'm more than willing to sacrifice for you, for the land.”
“Will it dull?” He had asked with caution, looking upon her naked body fearfully.
“Of course it will.” It never did, but she did not let herself transform in his presence again, and years of mischief had painted her a keen liar. She didn't want him to worry about her, she was stronger than even she knew.
They did not make love every time. This surprised Ariel, but not unpleasantly. Sometimes they attended plays, other times they walked together in the forest behind the castle, still others they simply ate and talked the whole night long. Ariel loved what she could learn of the land, and Eric often offered her a trinket or a book for her to pursue. She would tell him in turn of her friends undersea, of the tides and the moods of the water. He laughed to hear of Flounder's antics, Scuttle's words for things now known to her as “forks” and “pipes”. She laughed to hear the politics and scandals of the day, for some reason she found the royal courts more intriguing on dry land than salted sea. To every meeting there came an end, whether they wanted it or not. Ariel allowed Eric to see her off, to carry her back to the shoreline at sunrise. It didn't hurt as much for a human's body to become that of merfolk. It felt a bit cramped, a bit pressed, for a minute or two. The scales did itch something fierce, and shed unevenly for the next week. It bothered Ariel that a tail was so natural and painless on her body.
“Next month?” Eric said, every time, with a half questioning tone. As if she'd be doing anything else that day.
“Every month.” Ariel smiled, every time, her voice firm and doubtless, as she retreated into the sea.
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