Author's notes:

This story was started after Tallahassee and tweaked to fit Queen of Hearts, but hasn't been tweaked after that, so it's firmly AU by now.
Despite the names Ariel and Erik, this is based on the fairytale version of The Little Mermaid, including the unpleasant bits. I've also used quite a few pirate names from Peter Pan, though I've taken some liberties with their personalities.
There are direct quotes from Pippi Longstocking (in translation) and Pirates in the Deep Green Sea. Careful readers might also notice allusions to various HC Andersen tales, other fairy tales, Diana Wynne Jones, Michael Ende, Martin Ljung, Dick Francis, and probably someone else I've forgotten.
Thanks to Nell, Becca, and Roseveare for the beta!

"Captain," Starkey said, his voice deep with worry, "there is a storm brewing."

Hook threw a glance over his shoulder, and stiffened when he saw the dark purple clouds moving swiftly in their direction. Not just any storm, but a storm of magic, the kind that could strand a traveller in the wrong world, were he not careful. Already, the clouds were too near; any escape would be a narrow one.

"All men on deck!" he cried. "Stand ready for club-hauling! Move, you dogs, if you care for your lives!"

The men ran to their position, and soon there was full activity on deck, everyone straining to get the vessel turned around and returning home. Despite their best efforts, the haze overtook them, rumbling with gathering thunder that stood their hair on edge.

"Hold on to something!" Hook yelled. He himself held onto the steering wheel, pulling so hard against the torrent of magic that sweat poured down his back.

From the water below, there was a hissing shriek, sounding neither human nor animal, and the look-out cried: "Man overboard!"

"Well, pull him up!"

A small group of crewmen broke loose from their tasks and, with some effort, managed to get the person out of the water. Too far up to see much, and too preoccupied with other things to pay much attention, Hook still saw a naked arm falling lifeless to the side of the dark bundle. Something about the image wasn't right, and he frowned. A pirate's skin was tanned and tough as leather, this was a blueish pale, too dainty even for a cabin boy.

"It's a lady!" one of the men called from the deck.

"It's a what? Starkey, take over here!"

Hook ran down onto a deck, and found the woman lying stretched out on her side, as the pirates were proceeding to lift her arms over her head and pound her on the back. Despite her unhealthy pallor, her face was beautiful, framed by ginger curls escaping from a long, thick braid. The effect reminded him of the dúlaman seaweed of his home port. While her dress was of a simple cut, the cloth was fine, and as Hook came closer, he saw traces of paint on her nails. A lady in waiting in some fine household, perhaps.

"Look at her feet!" someone whispered.

Her dress had slipped up in the commotion, leaving bare two stocking-less feet covered in glittering scales. Any other time Hook had seen something like that, it had formed a fish's tail, rather than human legs. Shocked, he looked closer at the girl, the tone of her skin and the hue of her curls now gaining a whole new meaning.

"What have you done to yourself?" he asked, and leaned in further to check for vital signs.

Though she did not breathe, a weak pulse was still present. His hand on her neck brushed against some raised markings, shimmering of mother-of-pearl. He could not resist folding the dress aside to see what pattern they formed, and the results of his exploration made him blink. Definitely not a lady in waiting.

With a new sense of urgency, he turned her over on her back and moved to breathe into her mouth. Sticking a finger in to keep the tongue away from the airway, he was startled at what he felt – or did not feel – and pulled back for a split second, before dismissing his findings as unimportant. He leaned in, lips against hers, filling the empty mouth with air.

"All right," he said. "Turn her over again."

The men did as told, and there was a moment's pause before the mermaid coughed, water streaming out of her mouth.

"There you go," Hook said. "Good girl."

The only answer he got was a gust of purple smoke swirling across the deck, reminding him that there were more pressing matters at hand. He stood up, leaving the stranger for his men to deal with as he returned his attention to command of the ship. They had now turned 180 degrees and were going in the right direction – at least he hoped they were, though the magic inside the cloud made it impossible to tell for certain.

"Full speed ahead!" he shouted, starting back towards the bridge. "Prepare to..."

There was a choked noise behind him, and then the mermaid bumped straight into him, before groggily making her way to the gunwale, a few of his men running after to stop her.

"No, no, no," he said, grabbing her around the waist, his arms linked together around hers. "You can't go back in there."

She struggled against the grip, grunting in protest.

"No. Listen to me, highness. You can't. Whatever happened to you, you're not a mermaid anymore. You almost drowned. Do you understand? And this storm is magical. Even if you survive, you could end up in any world."

She leaned heavily against his arms, pushing with her feet to get away, tears streaming down her face.

"It's suicide, you little fool!"

Turning to face him, she nodded slowly, a silent plea in her sea-blue eyes.

"You want to die? Why would you...?"

She opened her mouth wide, showing the emptiness inside, and pulled at his arms again.

"Because your tongue is gone? No. You need me to let you go, so you can explain, is that it? Do you promise not to throw yourself over?"

At her fervent nods, he relaxed his grip. The moment she was free, she ran again for the gunwale, and he hurried to grab hold of her.

"Oh, no, you don't!" The magic was crackling in his ears, now, and he felt a spike of irritation – did she not realize that she was putting them all in danger? At the same time, he wasn't about to let go of something this valuable, if he could help it. "Starkey, you have the command!"

Half dragging, half carrying her, he managed to get them both below deck and into his cabin, which he locked, his hook firmly pressed against her chest as he did so. Only when the key was safely in his pocket did he let her loose. She immediately attacked, pounding at both him and the door, desperate to get out.

"Damn it, sweetheart, do you want to kill yourself and this crew too? You have your hands free as you requested. Now I'd like some sort of explanation what this is all about!"

With the same hissing shriek he'd heard from the ocean, she lashed out at the table, sending everything that wasn't nailed down flying across the floor. It occurred to him that maybe he could lock her in and return to the crew, but then, she might be able to force her way past him. He would just have to trust Starkey's ability to keep the ship steady on its way.

Exhausted and sobbing, she clasped her hands together in a plea for him to let her go.

"Sorry, love, I'm not letting you out there to die."

She nodded, motioned with her finger across her throat and pointed to herself.

"I know you want to kill yourself. Why?"

Her hands clasped together over her heart.

Willing to die for love, then. So far, her struggle had been to him only the obstacles thrown in by a particularly difficult piece of treasure, but this made him swallow hard. He remembered many a bleak day waking up in the morning, wondering what the point was of leaving his bed at all, when half of him lay dead on the ocean floor. "I know the feeling. Believe me, I do. But it will pass. And in any case, this is hardly the time or place. We need to ride out that storm."

She shook her head, somewhat calmer now that she had his attention on what she wanted to say. She motioned to show the storm, and blew gently to illustrate. With a fierce stab, she showed that it would kill her. Putting both hands out in front of her, she weighed them up and down, to show a balance. She put her own death in one balance, weighing it down, and then she weighed it back up, putting in the other the death of love.

His blood ran cold at the sight. "You die, or your lover does?"

She nodded.

"But surely there must be another way?"

She gave a firm headshake and blew again.

"It has to happen while the storm lasts?" With a sinking feeling, he looked out the porthole. The clouds were already a lot less dense than before. Though he still didn't like the thought of sending her out to die, he had to admit that she had as much right as anyone to save her love in the manner of her choice, and so he hauled the key out of his pocket and unlocked the door, opening it wide for her. "Go on, then."

She ran past him without a second glance, and continued up the ladder with a grace that shouldn't have been possible for someone who had just been brought back from the brink of death. More slowly, he followed her onto the deck and motioned for the men to leave her alone as she threw herself once more at the gunwale, going over just as the clouds drifted away and gathered at the horizon. He watched her swim, in long, flowing strokes that made her heritage clear, but even so, she was not fast enough: before she could reach the clouds, they shrank and disappeared.

Her face couldn't be seen from the distance, but he could see her throw her head back, and beyond that, he could hear the mournful shriek of pain and loss.

"Go pick her up again," he told the crew, quietly.

"Captain?" It was William Smee, gaze focused on something astern. "I've never seen that shore of land before."

Hook turned to see, and sighed. "We came out the wrong side of the storm." It probably would have happened either way, but it couldn't be denied that the mermaid's appearance had taken valuable time away from their effort to steer the ship to safety. "Never mind, we'll fix that later. Now, pick her up."

"But Captain, in this world..."

"In this world we will not remain long," he cut Smee off, impatiently. "Meanwhile, you get that top-drawer nereid out of the water. Understood?"

"Aye, aye, sir."

"Good."

He wondered, as he stood waiting for the stranger to be brought back on board, whether all this had really been worth the trouble. If he had ignored her plight, or let her go over when she first attempted to, perhaps they could have remained in Neverland, instead of lost in mortal lands with a suicidal mermaid. Going back would be a devil to arrange, and time was flying already. Even so, as they dragged her back on deck, miserable and weeping, but alive and awake, he couldn't regret his decision.

"I'm sorry," he said, offering her his coat. "Truly, I am."

Slowly, she sat down on the deck, wrapped her arms around her fishy knees, and simply cried.

Most pirate crews had no women on board, due to some kind of superstition regarding bad luck. This had never been a policy on board the Jolly Roger, and Hook's fortune had been none the worse for it. At the moment, the ship held three tough pirate lasses, as well as two sweethearts that had gone with their men, and the mermaid. The difference was, he'd have to do something about the mermaid, and it would be damned hard unless she started to communicate.

This morning, she was sitting on deck, listlessly leaning her head against the bridge as she stared off into the horizon. With her love gone, she seemed to care little what became of her, and had not even made any inquiry as to where they were headed. It was a waste of a fine young woman, as far as Hook was concerned, not to mention of the potential reward at her safe return. With anyone else, he would have played up the old charm, given her a little something else to think about. Considering the situation, though, that would likely bring him a sock in the jaw and no further results. Her true love had just died, and from what he could tell, she had inadvertently caused it, though he still wasn't clear on just how that connection worked, or how she could even know for certain that he was dead. You'd think that at the very least she would want to witness his funeral, just to make sure.

That thought stuck; he strode forward to her, and sat down on his heels to ask, "Is this your world?"

Though she did not change her position or show any interest, her gaze did lift to meet his.

"We were lost from our world in the storm. Is this yours? Do you recognize it?"

At this, she did raise her head and looked around, giving a small nod that meant, "Yes. So what?"

"If your love truly died last night, there will be a while yet before he is laid to rest. Would you like to say your last farewells?"

The light that awoke in her eyes was visible even behind the tears welling up. She rose, hastily, while trying to smooth out her dress, which was hopelessly stained and wrinkled after yesterday's time in the ocean. Even before she had finished straightening her back, she started to sway, and he caught hold of her shoulder.

"Easy, lass," he said. "What do you say we get you some breakfast, first?"

She shook her head.

"You need the strength." A thought struck him. "The base of your tongue is still there, isn't it? So you can still swallow. Right, breakfast it is, then. A bit of light fish, or maybe some porridge. I'll tell the cook; it won't be the first such meal he's prepared." He leaned in closer, and the wink and the smirk came by instinct as he added in a conspiratorial whisper, "Pirates have an awful tendency to lose all kinds of bits."

Rather than being offended, she laughed, and then her eyes filled with tears again. He stroke her cheek, once, then stood up. "Find some clean clothes, lads!" he told the crew. "We're going to a funeral."

On his way to the galley, he passed Teynte, who raised her eyebrows at him in a way that was close to, but not quite, insolent. She'd always been a cocky one; that was a large reason why he'd hired her in the first place.

"What?" he asked.

"I need a new sea chart, to fit this world. And we all need a portal back. Shouldn't that be our first priority?"

"There's time."

"Every minute here is a minute we're ageing."

"I know that. I'm asking my crew to give but a little of their precious time to help a lady in distress."

Teynte's eyes narrowed. "Why are you so bleeding heart all of a sudden? What's so important about her?"

Hook paused, unable to articulate, even to himself, why he shouldn't just dump the former mermaid in the first populated area and be done with it. Yes, the evidence of a finer breeding than her outfit had suggested was part of it. Mere curiosity at her bizarre fate was another. Not to mention that he'd spent too much time fishing her up to want to see her throw herself back in the water.

But beyond all that, he'd known that despair, the taste of ash in his mouth. At least he'd had his revenge to keep him going on the darkest of days. What did she have?

"Don't make me lash you for insubordination, Eddy," he snapped and went on his way.

Some of the pirates cleaned up a little, or changed their shirt, before they stepped on shore. Most did nothing. Hook had found a more suitable dress for the mermaid among the ladies' wear, and donned his finest black, but as he scanned the crowd, he found that something was off. These were not the subdued mourners of a funeral procession. These people were dressed up for a party, some strewing flowers on the ground or raising branches into the air, many in the midst of a bright chatter or a piece of gossip.

"What on earth's going on?" he asked no one in particular.

The mermaid mirrored his emotion, following the activities of the crowd wide-eyed, with a mix of hope and disbelief on her face. She caught hold of an old woman among the passing people, and gestured at the commotion around them to ask what was going on.

"Why, it's the royal wedding, of course!" the woman exclaimed. "Haven't you heard? The event of the year, they call it. From what I hear, Princess Elaine's dress is quite exquisite. I can't wait to see it."

The woman craned her neck to look down the road, and the mermaid had to knock on her shoulder to get her attention again. With trembling hands, she signed a crown, and then both hands by her chest, as if choking.

"Are you all right?" the woman asked, frowning.

"I believe she's asking about the prince's health," Hook said, trying to make sense of this. It seemed this prince was the mermaid's love, but then, how could he be alive, and how could the wedding still be underway? Surely someone would have noticed the bride missing, enough to pay a pretty penny to get her back.

"Oh!" the woman said. "Yes, he was quite ill, he was. They say he was near death's door, and then, during that awful storm, he woke up and was right as rain again. Like a miracle."

The mermaid laughed, nodded, and gave the old woman an enthusiastic hug before turning around to give Hook one too.

"Thanks, lass," he said, returning the favour, and held on a tad longer than he would have before – after all, she was no longer a widow and not yet a wife. "It seems that half-drowning was enough to do the trick, hey? Come on, do you want to find that prince of yours?"

She shook her head, still laughing, and showed him that, look, she could see perfectly fine from where they stood.

"Yes, but I think that for the wedding to proceed, the bride has to be there."

Her wince filled in the piece of the puzzle that had eluded him before. "He's marrying someone else?" Hook asked, outraged. "You almost died for this man, and he's marrying someone else?"

She pulled him aside, a finger against her lips to warn him to stay quiet: people were already giving them odd looks, and even the pirates were glancing over their shoulders.

"Did you know about this?" he asked in a more hushed tone.

She gave a brisk nod and then lit up as a trumpet fanfare heralded the arrival of the bridal couple. The crowd surged into the street, but guards holding lances kept them at a respectful distance, followed by more guards on horseback. And there were the young prince and princess themselves, dressed up in a sackful of jewellery that could bring in a fortune at the open market. Hook remained in his place while the mermaid stepped forward, but he couldn't help taking interest, especially when the bejewelled royalty made way for the procession of bridesmaids, each one lovelier than the one before.

One of these beauties caught sight of the mermaid and broke loose from the line, calling, "Jenny! Where have you been?" Pushed back by the guards, she was forced to retreat, but shouted, "You have to come to the reception! And your gentleman friend too. Promise! We've all missed you!"

The mermaid nodded and blew a kiss at the girl, who returned to her place and whispered something in the ear of the maid standing next to her. Soon, several of the bridesmaids were giving small waves to the mermaid.

"Jenny?" Hook asked. "Is that your name?"

She shook her head, still smiling, though her smile wavered a little as the procession disappeared down the road.

"Well, now," Hook said, taking her arm in his. The prospect of a party lightened his mood from the temporary setback of not having the country's future queen in his custody after all. "Shall we prepare for the reception?" Seeing her doubtful expression, he continued, "After all, I am your gentlemen friend, and I must admit, a regal wedding reception is not something I have ever participated in before."

For a moment, she hesitated, but then she shrugged and gave a little head-jerk. "Well, why not?"

"That's the spirit. Lads," he told the pirates, "take the night off. I'll see you all on the Roger tomorrow. If you need further funds, I trust you know how to get them. Shall we, milady?"

The wedding reception was more luxurious than he could have imagined, and a great argument for making more royal acquaintances. There was a shortage of hard liquor, but a great deal of fine wine, and food you would not encounter in centuries on board a ship. Not to mention the numerous ladies-in-waiting, who tended to give Hook dubious glances at first sight, but who were easy enough for him to warm up. One of them, a tall, loquacious brunette named Gerda, proceeded to tell him all about his mysterious mermaid friend – apart from, as it turned out, her actual identity, which she knew nothing about.

"She was washed up on the beach one day!" With a lower voice, she added, "As the day she was born, if you know what I mean! All covered in fish slime from the ocean, and not a word could she speak, poor thing! I'd just die, if it were me."

Hook, frowning, looked over at the mermaid, who sat with her eyes downcast, obviously uncomfortable with the topic of conversation.

"So why 'Jenny'?" he asked.

"Well, we had to call her something! We're all so fond of her, she's the sweetest thing, and the prince plain adores her. He takes her along on his hunting trips, and nothing would do, but that she sleep on a cushion outside his door. Isn't that lovely?"

His eyebrows shot up. "Isn't it just?" he said cheerfully.

"And the way she dances – oh! I have never seen anything like it. I do hope the prince asks her to dance tonight. He usually does, you know."

The mermaid, seemingly preoccupied with her food, gave a small, secret smile at the compliment, and then was whisked away by the girl who had called at her in the street, and whose name Hook thought was either Ida or Liza.

"Jenny, darling, I'm so glad you're here!" Ida/Liza said. "Don't ever frighten us like that again! We had no idea where you'd gone, and with the prince so very sick last night, I feared the worst today. Come, be with us, let us delight in the happy ending!"

Hook watched them leave and then, left alone with Gerda, took a strange, foreign fruit from a bowl.

"Oh!" Gerda said. "That one needs to be peeled. Do you want me to..."

"No, it's fine," he said, spiking the fruit to hold it still, while he eyed Gerda in a way that made her blush. Though he did find her rather tiresome, she provided more clues than the mermaid herself did, and there was certainly nothing wrong with the exterior. "So, tell me, what happened with the prince last night?"

They carried on the conversation for a while, and then proceeded with some discreet wooing in a shaded doorway, until the prince's voice called out:

"My friends, you are all so dear to me. Perhaps dearest of all is my devoted page, foundling Jenny, who has agreed to dance for us tonight, to make mine and Elaine's happiness complete!"

"This I have to see," Hook said, and withdrew his mouth from Gerda, so he could return to the grand hall.

The orchestra had taken their position by the middle of the back wall, and in front of them, an area had been cleared for the dancing. The mermaid stood there, alone, arms hanging, shoes left on the side of the room so that her feet were now clad only in black stockings. When the orchestra struck up the first dulcet tones she started swaying, hands rising higher and higher, fingers beating out the rhythm on air. Her feet moved across the floor, first slowly, then faster, and with such grace that it would seem that she never touched the ground. Deep in concentration, her entire body became a vibrating chord of music, ever-changing.

Hook grinned. No one who had ever seen a mermaid dance could mistake this for anything else, despite the earthly surroundings and her feet on the floor. Even by mermaid standards, though, this one was superb, enthralling the whole audience, with her face in a blissful smile even as sweat poured down her face and left wet footprints on the dark carpet.

His face grew serious in an instant. Something about those footprints was not right, though he could not venture close enough to see what.

The dance came to an end. For a moment, nobody made a sound; then they all broke into rambunctious applause.

People came up to the mermaid to congratulate her, and she followed them with light steps to the banquet table, where she was given sweet wine and fruit. Meanwhile, Hook approached the spot where she had danced, and sank down on one knee to inspect the carpet. His suspicions confirmed, he looked back at the mermaid. She had by now swallowed half her cup of wine and was beaming at the prince, who offered her what seemed to be the highest praise. Only the slightest tension in her shoulders could indicate anything but happiness.

"Well, fuck me," Hook muttered, then shrugged, and went to find some more food.

The night progressed, and the party gathered together to see the bride and groom off on a luxurious ship, ornamented and well-carved in every detail but neither fast nor sturdy, clearly built for pleasure rather than practicality. Hook watched with wry amusement and his arm around that Ida/Liza girl – it was much too late now to ask for any clarification on the name issue. After the ship had sailed, she yawned behind her hand and politely thanked him for the company, announcing that she needed to sleep.

"So soon, darling?" he asked. "I was looking forward to spending some more time with you."

"You're a rake," she said and gave him a drunken finger tap on the nose. "Don't think I didn't see you with Gerda, before. And you came here with Jenny! Jenny's a good girl, she deserves better. You be good to Jenny."

"You be good to Jenny," he replied, but it did serve as a reminder that he'd originally had another reason for coming.

Once he had delivered his current company in the safe hands of her friends, he sought out the mermaid, whom he found in one of the gardens, soaking her feet in a fish pond. The fish swam in tight circles around her, as if their cold fish hearts were thrilled to see her. Her face was obscured by her long, loose curls of hair, but from the dejected curve of her back, the excitement wasn't mutual.

"I am having a marvellous time," Hook declared and sat down next to her, legs crossed. "You don't seem to be, though. That's a pity."

Her lips curled into something that might have been the beginning of a smile, but might also have been an attempt not to cry.

"Have your feet stopped bleeding, at least?"

She looked up at that, eyes widened.

"Oh, yes, I noticed," he assured her, "even if your prince did not. He's not the sharpest tool in the shed, that one, is he?"

Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she hurried to wipe them away. Hook sighed.

"Let's have a look at you," he said and gently fished one of her feet out of the water. The scales glittered in the moonlight, but the skin was unbroken, and as he ran his thumb against the sole of her foot, he could feel no blemish to suggest it had ever been otherwise. "What on earth... I know I didn't imagine it."

She waved her hand in the air like a wand.

"So there is some sort of spell? That made you human? Is the blood part of that too?"

A quick nod, and she gestured with cramped hands and a pained grimace a fish's tail torn in two, and every step sending stabs into the foot.

"Hardly seems worth it," he said. The grim feeling in his heart made him wonder if he was starting to sober up. "And your tongue?"

She rubbed her fingertips together.

"Payment, for the spell? A spell that already has you in agony. Sweetheart, if I were you, I'd ask for a refund. Was all this for that boy?"

There was no reply, but the way she turned her head away was an answer in itself.

"So, what will it be now? Cut your losses, or try to win him back? You'll have a bloody row of it with the latter, I'm afraid. Especially if you go for queen. People don't take as well to royal divorces as they do royal weddings. You may have to settle for concubine. Power behind the throne, that kind of thing."

She shook her head vehemently.

"No? You want the queenship? Not that either. So you're leaving, good for you. Still no, and... no. You're not staying as his page?" He spat out the last word, disappointed in her meekness as well as this obstacle in finding her well-off relatives. "Damn it, woman, what's wrong with you?"

Affronted, she pulled back her feet under herself, wrapping her arms around them. Hook leaned back, staring at the sky, and longed for the woman who had left her life behind and run, who loved with fierce passion in a way you could never take for granted, generous and demanding in the same breath. They'd had so many quarrels, and yet, even as the harsh words flew through the air, he'd loved her with all his heart, not least because there had been a part of her that he could never possess, that was always and uniquely her own.

"I have loved a great many times," he admitted, and perhaps he was still drunk after all, to speak like this. "Some briefly. A few truly. I know what it's like, to cherish someone's life more than your own. To be willing to die, if that could bring them back. But I have never, ever, in my unnaturally long life, wasted a single second on someone who would have me sleep outside their door on a cushion, and who'd talk to me as if I were a lapdog."

He would have expected her to start crying again, or to be offended and leave. He did not expect the mermaid to attack him with closed fists. Before he had time to react, she even got a semi-efficient punch in. At least there was some fire left in her, even if it was aimed in the wrong direction.

"All right, stop!" he said, catching her left wrist in his hook, which effectively blocked her right as well. After a momentary standstill, she let her arms fall down, and he stood up, brushing the dirt off his trousers. "What's it to me, what you do? Your life is your own. Waste it as you like."

He turned to leave, but something made him pause and glance back at her face, which no longer held any sorrow, much less that ethereal smile of before. Instead, there was an element of defiance which, although it didn't quench his irritation, still made him say: "If you do decide there's more you want of life... well. The Jolly Roger remains in harbour a few more days. We could drop you off anywhere you please. Milady."

She stared at him for a moment, then sat back down and wrapped her arms around her knees, back turned to him. He supposed that was an answer as good as any.