Disclaimer: The Little Mermaid, all characters, places, and related terms belong to Hans Christian Andersen and Walt Disney Pictures.

Where I Belong

To the land.

You are born with your soulmark tattooed on the inside of your lower left arm. No merperson ever receives their mark prior to their fifteenth year. And to have such a mark – no proper name or insignia – what does it mean? Is our littlest princess cursed? the whispers float back and forth.

Since the day of your birth your sisters coddle you, uneasiness and protectiveness warring in their eyes. While your father the sea king's suspicion of the world above transforms into all-consuming hatred. None from his realm are permitted to go up to the surface ever again on pain of banishment.

Yet you never look upon your fate with anger, dread, or hurt. From the moment you understand the implications of it you embrace your mark. How can you do anything else?

Countless times you daydream while gazing up, up, up at that surface so far above. Frequently you sneak the forbidden books from the library to read in the safety of your chamber. You discover the forgotten hidden treasures which had belonged to your dead mother; and that is the beginning of your own secret collection. You learn of a way past your father's enchantments and barriers and swim up to the surface.

The surface…surrounded by vast blue, new air, blinding brightness, unfamiliar creatures. It is glorious. And you lose your heart.

To the land.

Yes, you belong to it and it to you. You prove a faithful lover: regularly swimming to the world above, befriending Scuttle, listening in awe to his stories which make those seemingly mythical creatures – humans – become real. And you long, long with a fierceness that burns, to know so much more about your soulmate.

But in the end it is unfaithful. The storm rages: clouds black, rain stinging, wind howling, lightning crackling, thunder rolling. Even the sea turns on you, boiling, roaring, and fighting against you. And for the first time you are afraid.

Then the sky is filled with red light, the ship is burning, humans are splashing into the water, and you dive when you see one in particular fall…

You wake to sunlight, blue sky, and calm waters. The previous night feels like a distant nightmare.

You turn to the human lying beside you on the shore. Your heart begins to hammer as your gaze sweeps over his form, both the same and yet different from you. You lean close, wondering (no, praying) he lives. Your eyes linger on his arm flung out to the side, a familiar script dark against his skin. Holding your breath, you move closer for a better look.

To the ocean.

You whisper the words, and then glance at your own mark. Carefully you stretch out your hand, lay your palm over his.

Oh! It is like being hit by a bolt of lightning; shivers race down your spine and butterflies flutter in your stomach. And the longing, the longing which has eaten at you, burned for years diminishes. As though what was sought has been found at last. And you think, of course!

Fingers lacing with yours brings you back to the present, and you notice dark eyes looking up at you. Warmth washes over you as something like tender recognition fills his face.

"It's you!" he whispers hoarsely, sitting up slowly.

"You…," you breathe.

"Ocean." He squeezes your hand.

You glance towards the sea, then at your fishtail. And the magic woven around you threatens to break. How can this ever work? You should get out of here. But you don't want to leave. You don't want to stop touching him.

"Beautiful."

You discover him gazing at your tail in wonder. Your doubts disappear.

"So are you."

His smile is exuberant; you can't drag your eyes from his lips. You need to kiss him…

"What is your name?"

Suddenly he is so close. Close enough to rest his forehead against yours, to bump your noses together, to practically share the same air. Finally you meet his gaze, and in his eyes are reflected everything you feel: excitement, bliss, reverence, acceptance.

"A-ariel," your voice shakes.

"Ariel," he sighs like it is a benediction. "That's kind of pretty."

You giggle.

"I'm Eric."

"Eric."

Then your lips touch his. It is worlds colliding, meeting, and finally fitting. The sea lapping at your fins, the sound of gulls calling, the smell of salt, the rough grains of sand against your skin all fade away. There is only you and Eric, his weight a welcome pressure as you sigh into his mouth.

This is where you belong.

THE END