Sea Foam | ✓

xii.

I wrapped my fingers around that witch's throat and demanded to know where you were. Our father held me back, telling me if I did anything to the witch I would never get to know where you were.

You had exchanged your voice for legs that would dance most gracefully, but also that would hurt each time you took a step, when the witch told you the way you could obtain a human soul was by obtaining a man's love, love that could even compel him to leave his father and mother.

But if you failed in your mission, you would die, and like all mermaids, souless and perfect, you would turn to sea foam.

"Would you like to see?" She choked, smiling as she massaged her throat, smiling once more when I nodded. 

Her snake like locks floated in the air as she spun around, flinging potions into a cauldron. Finally a green smoke arose.

"Look at her," ordered the witch. It was an order. Not a direction. She wanted us to see.

And I peered in.

In the smoke there was the boy, from all those years ago. He was a prince apparently. He held you in his arms, handing you over to maids who dressed you in rich fabrics, the doll of the court. Parties, plays and gatherings. He took you everywhere, a little amusing toy. He called you his dear dumb child, because you could not speak. 

He made you dance. And you did, seemingly joyous.

And I saw pain in your eyes, dear sister, when you danced.

But I also saw dreams in those eyes, and that scared me more.