The Little Maid: Tail Not Included

Chapter the Third: In Which Mermaids and Sirens are Established to be Different

The half-drowned boy mumbled something.

"What?"

"Are you a pirate?"

Ariel stifled her surprise with a sarcastic reply. "Is that any kind of question to be askin' a lady?"

He chuckled weakly and somewhat insensibly. "You're not a lady, you're a mermaid."

"And ye got a knock on your crown," Ariel observed, "It's bleedin'."

He reached up and traced his fingers across his forehead, then looked at them. The moonlight was faint, but she could see the blood clearly. "So that's what hurts," he said.

"See that over there?" Ariel asked, hoping to take his mind off any pain he had, "I think that's your ship. They're comin' back for ye."

"You should go," he said, "you can escape."

"It's temptin', I'll admit that," she said, "But it's a wee bit late for me to return to the castle. They'll have locked the doors and if I sneak in through a window, I'll trip an alarm. Might as well wait until morning."

"Back up to the part about the castle," he said, though it was more of a question.

"What about it?"

"I didn't know there were castles under the sea."

"And ye dinna believe in mermaids, yet here we are."

"Wait. Are you a princess pirate mermaid?"

"Absolutely."

"Wow. Your parents must be really worried about you."

"No," she shrugged, "they're used to me irregular schedule. If I'm gone a few days, they'll worry."

He looked kinda tired, and she began to worry that he would fall asleep. That would be dangerous, with a head injury. She was about to speak, intending to keep him awake, but he beat her to it.

"What's your family like?" he asked.

"Well, me Mum's quite amazing, and Dad is incredible, too. Me sisters—oh, there's no one word for them. Some are funny. Some are kind. Some are downright rude. But we all love each other."

He pushed himself up onto his elbows, and Ariel helped him to a sitting position, leaning against her side. "So, how many sisters do you have?"

"Twenty-two."

"Twenty-two?" he repeated, incredulous, "How—"

"Most of us are adopted."

They were silent for a moment, and then he asked, "So... what about your friends? Tell me about them."

"Me sisters are me friends. I'm... not out much," she explained.

"Oh." He paused again, then continued. "You have a boyfriend?"

"Now that's none of your business, is it?" Ariel snorted, remembering the last time she saw a boy remotely close to her age. He was a crewmember of a ship they plundered, and utterly vulgar. Lyra was delighted to be the one to toss him overboard.

He turned to look at her. "Do you have a name?"

She almost snapped at him, something like "no, people just call me Pirate Princess Mermaid Number Twenty-Three," but she didn't. Instead, she gave him part of her name.

"They call me Ari."

"I'm Christopher."

"Ah. Christopher." A wicked smile crossed Ariel's face. "Can I give ye some advice, Christopher, without ye takin' it the wrong way?"

"I guess," he shrugged.

"When you're back on the boat, see if ye can't find yourself a breath mint."

"Excuse me?"

She tossed her hair nonchalantly. "It may be all the same to ye, but it'll make a world of difference for the next girl who has to get you breathin' again."

Even in the dim light, she could see the flush that spread across his face as he comprehended her meaning. It surprised Ariel to realize that she liked to tease this boy. And then his hand was on hers, fingers intertwined. She found herself staring into his eyes, and the only thing she could think was, Oh, will Hannah-Marie be jealous.

A second later she recalled that how jealous Hannah-Marie became over something was inversely proportional to how smart that something was. Perhaps the hit on his head did more damage than she originally thought. Or perhaps her mum was right—boys did lack all reasonable thinking ability.

"Christopher..." she began, "I—I don't—"

He was very close, and words apparently weren't helping. So she shoved him backwards.

"Good heavens, man, ye've only just met me! From what I've heard, mermaids are an appealin' thought to most men, but think! Ye dunna know a thing about me! I could have just made up me whole past!" (Ironically, she had.) "Maybe I'm a siren, luring ye to your doom!"

"Sirens are bird-women," he grumbled.

She crossed her arms. "In Homer's Odyssey, sirens were shapeshifters. P'raps I'm one of them! And you're just tryin' to change the subject."

"Well, you encouraged me!" he argued.

"I beg your pardon?"

"All that business about the breath mint?"

"Ye took that seriously? I was just teasing ye, man!"

"Then I guess I'm definitely not from mermaid-land, or wherever it is you live, because where I'm from, that's called flirting, and it usually indicates attraction!"

"Well I'm sorry I don't know all your stupid rules!"

"You really must not get out much," he said, no longer yelling, just sulking.

"Aye," she agreed, leaning back on her elbows, "Aside from the mer-men, I've met one kind of man me whole life: sailors who want to kill me and mount me head on a wall... or worse."

"Oh." Christopher's voice was small. "Sorry."

"Don't be. I'm not mad at ye, Christopher. Ye just did something foolish, that's all."

Through this whole conversation, Ariel had failed to notice the ship drawing closer and closer, the small boat being lowered, and the crewmembers rowing towards them. She didn't notice them coming up behind her. She did, however, notice it when they grabbed her from behind and pulled her aboard. It was rather hard not to.

She shouted and tried to squirm out of their tight grasp, but it was no use. They were strong men, and she had been taken by surprise.

"Hey! Don't hurt her!" Christopher cried, angry, "Let her go!"

"She's not yours to free," one of the crew replied.

"I'm not ANYONE'S, thank ye very much!" Ariel snapped.

"Lord Branwyn pulled you out of the water," another sailor said, "I'd say that makes you his. He's got quite the collection. Consider yourself lucky to be made part of it! P'raps he'll even put you on display. A public exhibition."

Ariel looked to Christopher, and he gestured helplessly. There was nothing he could do.