The Mermaid and the Heiress (A Retelling of The Little Mermaid)

1

Kingsea was smiling.

It wasn't often that he smiled, but even he couldn't resist the joy of song and dance. His daughters knew this, and we pulled him from memories of Mother as often as we could.

Now, side by side on our fins, we raised our arms and heads toward the sky we couldn't see.

Grandmother floated behind Father's jagged throne, her silent disdain louder than his booming claps. He was already receding into his fog, the smile we'd worked so hard for becoming forced. Each of us planted a kiss on his cheek as we sped past, not wanting to linger.

The old songs claimed Father had been a god who, after falling in love with a mermaid princess, descended to the ocean so they could be together—and rule—forever. Personally, I found the songs that suggested merkind had originated as dragons far easier to believe.

Last to reach my corner of the grotto, I studied my sisters. They looked a lot like me: small but quick-bodied, pale-skinned and bright-scaled, with hair almost at tail length. Long hair was considered a staple of beauty among our kind—some even allowed their tails to be outgrown. Translucent like our fins, the strands glowed beneath the water and shined when exposed to the sun. Lefi's was yellow, Esola's purple, Kindra's blue, and mine green.

Velde's pink head was noticeably absent. She'd gone traveling again, fueled by her need to explore as much of the kingdom as possible. While she never shared details, her growing number of scars didn't hint at anything positive. I had hoped she would return in time for my surfacing, which was hours away, but I understood her passion, as only she understood mine.

Lefi sat atop her pile of human "treasures", a mixture of rubbish and jewels, all of it equal in her undiscerning eyes. Her attempts to discard portions of the hoard had been disastrous, and she rarely let it out of her sight. According to Grandmother, the obsessive collecting began after we lost Mother. Having been too young before then, this was the only Lefi I knew.

Belly-down and shut-eyed on the floor, was Esola. When not arguing with Grandmother, cheering up Father, or indulging my curiosities, she lounged. It was her speciality.

Kindra, dreamy-faced as usual, was partially in this world and partially in another. A childhood illness had left her unable to ever be fully present. She could follow requests and mimic actions well enough—even follow discussions—but she always faded.

As the oldest, Kindra had been first to surface. I'd welcomed her back with a thousand questions.

"It was interesting," she'd said, drifting by. "Strange, but interesting..."

I'd gaped after her, sputtering at the vagueness—which I really should've expected. "Was it like Father described?"

"Somewhat," she'd said, and wandered out of sight.

"Father hasn't surfaced in decades, Terra," Velde had said. "He couldn't even describe a bird now if you asked." (Esola had sworn she did ask and that, after a long squint, Father had wondered aloud if birds were scaled or feathered.)

Velde, Lefi, and Esola had each promised more information from their surfacings. Although I was never completely satisfied, they had delivered. I'd listened to their stories of alarm, amazement, confusion, and longed for it all. I'd watched them lose interest and waited for my turn, retaining every scrap of knowledge—waited until I'd nearly burst. Now that my turn was here at last, I felt like I was going to split in several directions.

"You've been swimming in circles," Esola said, turning toward me without opening her eyes.

She was right, I had been. I stopped, took a breath, and yelped when Grandmother appeared beside me, glaring at the others.

"Have you silly little fools forgotten what tradition entails? You're to prepare her!" She added to me out of the falling corner of her mouth, "Get a hold of your tail before it spins off to the moon, you unbearable infant."

Grandmother valued traditions—but abhorred any connected to humans. Particularly in my case, with her being so disturbed by my fascination. I beamed at her.

"Will there be guests, Grandmother?" Esola demanded, glaring back. "They're a large part, if you remember."

Grandmother waved her bony hand. "There hasn't been unity or hope in too long. A call wouldn't be answered in these waters. And be thankful—the pomp isn't needed."

"The family's support is enough," I said distractedly.

Just one human sighting would be enough for me to consider the entire event a success.

Grandmother's eyes narrowed as if she'd heard my treacherous thought. Then she screeched, "Begin!"

The preparation lasted an eternity. Lefi, Esola, and Kindra surrounded me in a kind of frenzy under Grandmother's disapproving gaze. They scrubbed my skin and scales, slapped at me—Esola with her tail—when I couldn't hold still, decorated my hair with pearls and shells. The pain of oysters attaching to my tail might have overwhelmed me if not for the excitement bubbling in my chest. I grinned through it and accepted reassuring pats from my sisters. I would bear the bad to experience the good.

"Terra," Lefi and Esola said. Kindra pointed over my shoulder, her head swaying.

A red flower zoomed toward me, landing on my nose. I laughed and caught it against my palm.

"Velde must have realized she wouldn't make it and sent that for luck," Lefi said. Her smile held no greed—flowers, along with pearls and shells, bored her.

I did a happy flip and slid the flower above my ear, careful not to dislodge anything.

As they led me out of the grotto to where Father waited, Grandmother snapped at me.

"Never show your tail, never let it be seen—"

"I know, Grandmother."

Fish were few, and not as friendly as they used to be. I spotted some from afar with odd swellings; Grandmother said they had "caught humanity" and to stay away. Father said nothing.

Forming a circle, everyone began to vocalize, revolving slowly around me. I found I truly was content with this lone little ring.

Their movement paused but they continued to sing, Father directly in front of me. He produced a beautiful wreath and set it on my head. Reaching out to me, he inched back, and the others did the same.

With a final grin, I kicked my tail, racing upward.

I glanced down at my family just once. Their arms were rising, following my progress.

As their wordless music grew faint, I surfaced.