"What the hell happened?" Meg exclaims to no one in particular. Her lungs feel raw and her throat is tired. It was...a thing that had fallen, knocked her through the chest. She was sure she was to perish. But here she was, alive and breathing the following morning.

To be saved from peril, immediately brings thought of Hercules. Yet, he is nowhere to be seen. Meg is quite alone.

Vaguely, she recalls a pair of strong, but small arms. Certainly not Herc. Gentle, firey locks. And a voice. It was definitely not Hercules. A sweet descant–how could she forget its source? But it seemed that her mind would produce no information beyond that. Although her chest hurt, Meg found she could move, albeit slowly.

XXX

Megara.

Ariel allows the name to roll from her tongue, lets it settle there and into her heart, leaving the mergirl with renewed desires concerning humanity. She has felt a sense of elation in the past fortnight, constantly feeling higher; unweighed down by the confinement of the sea, as she had previously. It was the image of Meg deeply etched into her mind, which left Ariel in an inebriated state of contentedness.

Her sisters, though most often left the youngest to her own musings, had seen the shift. No longer was Ariel moping about, nor seemingly focused by some arbitrary project. Now, Ariel was absolutely buoyant; even willing to attend various social functions with them. Yet the entire time, Ariel had seemed more distant than ever, though now with an unyielding, loopy grin. The sisters knew lovesickness well.

Assuming some lucky merman had stolen her heart, the girls did not to ruin Ariel's mood by imposing questions, though they were certainly curious. Even King Triton admitted his normally rebellious daughter was involved in less antics, though he assumed maturity with age had finally applied.

"Ariel," Flounder always seems to swim urgently to the grotto. It is never a leisure visit with him, it would seem. "A thought just struck me! You know how Meg kept asking about a circlet? Well, I think it is the same one that I brought to you. Weird, isn't it?" She suddenly brings him close to him, hugs him in excitement.

"How had we not seen it before?!" She exclaims, grateful for his observance. After a short dialogue concerning Flounder's conduct and parental concern, he flits off as soon as he had appeared with the curious revelation. Ariel calls out that Triton could always put in a good word, as Flounder swims hastily to save his tail fins from further chastising.

The wristlet is small, as if formed for a child. Its beads are a combination of wood and metal. Not the cleanest crafting, Ariel thinks: like Meg, but it certainly has a type of hidden past about it. Knowing now that she owns an object of Meg's, Ariel begins to ponder her situation further, suddenly realizing that her infatuation could be easily written off. A chance at it flourishing further seems near impossible.

After several hours spent in the alcove of human artifacts, Ariel has pondered enough to take her apprehension to the dearest of mermaids—her grandmother.

Mermaid Elder, the fish populous lovingly has dubbed her. Ariel has become accustomed to the idea that her own grandmother serves as a makeshift grandmother for various creatures throughout their part of the sea. She is wise and quite ancient.

The coral has been molded into a tiny fixture. The door is made up of only seaweed. It seems curious to Ariel that a woman of such status should live in such a homely shack.

"Mermaid Elder, it's one of your granddaughters. Ariel, the youngest," she calls into the weeds. A moment of hesitation, then a response:

"About time, deary. Let yourself in, the preparations for a fresh batch of urchincrumpets is nearly done."

Sitting on a sea stool, the warm house is entirely dull, pink. Books of leaf paper and various items, both of the surface world and fishcreation a like, fill to the brim all bits of space.

"Oh, Grandma Elder. Much has happened since my turning seventeen. But I'm not sure father would quite approve..." Ariel smirks sheepishly, as if guilty. Mermaid Elder returns with an even wider grin of approval.

"My lips are sealed, deary. I wouldn't still be here if I didn't how to hold a few secrets to my breast."

"Well...I have saved a human." Ariel squeezes her eyes shut, awaiting judgement. There is silence for a moment. She opens one eye to see Mermaid Elder merely staring in return.

"Continue," she gestures, "and if that's it, love; well, I have saved a human just as you have, back in my day." The Elder winks, then.

"Yes, but it's caused me to wonder; if she never drowns would she never die? Is there a lifespan to humanity?"

"A sum of thinking you have been at," She sets a tray of biscuits down, and settles into a plush anemone chair, positioned an arms' length away.

"I'll tell you love, it's been nearly a century since I've been faced with this question in particular."

Ariel bites into the urchin, waiting, though it tastes a bit bland. She is nearly at the edge of her seat, eager for an answer.

"Ariel, are you prepared to understand?"

"Absolutely, Grandma Elder," she nods her head in rapid succession, out of enthusiasm.

"Now stop that, you know a mermaid my age can hardly see you young fishfolk making gestures all over the place. It is nearly rocking my cottage here, however!"

"Grandma, please, I'll sit as still as the algae if only to know the answers I seek. Knowledge improves virtue, as they say."

"Then here it shall be. Humans have a much shorter lifespan; we exist for an average of three hundred years, while people live for generally less than a third of that. Yet a primary point of contrast: when human people die, their souls live on. Merpeople and fish merely become, now how to put this eloquently? Part of the sea. But there is eternity in becoming one with that which is more endless than the dwellings of land."

XXX

Her hair in a mess without a tie and her dress is torn from its former glory, now ruined by the salty waters. Meg, regardless, is as charming as ever.

"Where the hell is wonder boy? God damn me," She sighs. A nearby fisherman looks up, mildly alerted by this gorgeous, though vulgar woman. At the look of her tattered clothing, he recalls:

"You must be one of those upper class caught in the storm."

"That sounds about right. Could you help me out? A little far away from home, here..."

He takes her into his modest house in a tiny village. Calling for the local physician, Meg is cared for and patched up. She had acquired several bruises and cuts which are dressed, while being given an herbal remedy for her chest pains.

The man, Auron, happens to be taking his stock over to the nearest trading port, conveniently Meg's homeland as well. She agrees to board with him for a cost of working with the crew. Auron is a kind man, one who has taken in various vagabonds and lost children for different periods of time. He is hospitable, known throughout the region for his honest judgements.

Meg, like most, immediately take to his humble charisma. It is different from that of Hercules or his father; Auron merely exudes a simple life with meaning. He holds his head high, without fear of the next day.

"Damn it, I place blame on Hercules for this mess," Meg whispers fiercely. It is the third night they have spent together, and by candle light there is much conversing even after Auron's child and wife have long since retired. She takes a sip of the hot tea.

"Megara dear, you must learn to contain your swearing."

"Yeah, yeah. But aren't sailors known for their swearing?"

"You aren't a sailor and neither am I; I'm a simple fisherman, mind you," he teases her gently. "So this Hercules. Perhaps I ought to have asked earlier, but is he one and the same with the Hercules from the local legends?"

"Probably. Is he known for super human strength? And an uncanny ability to sense—or perhaps attract it, I'm not sure—danger? Yet he saves people ever time? Then that is definitely my Herc." A twinge of pride.

"Ah yes. A superfluous bit of bashing you've done for such a hero." He chuckles. "Especially as his future bride."

"He's the one practically pushing me into this extravagant party-at-sea that I was never in favor of. Yet it happens, despite the fact that it was my birthday. Such a male. I am aware of his inheritance, after all."

"Some times men with power feel the need to be flamboyant," Auron nods.

"Herc's a good guy, though. He is the real deal, when it comes to being a hero. Doesn't need a fancy boat to prove it to everyone, 'Ron."

"Perhaps, he's only attempting to impress one." Meg has come to the understanding that Auron speaks often like a "wise elder", despite being newly middle-aged. He exits the room, leaving Meg to her tea.

A/N: I just found the journal for this story. I have more chapters written, and I will continue it.