Sebastian pov

I scuttle down de palace halls, me heart racin' like a ship sailin’ in a storm. Oh, how do I get meself into dis madness? I tell ya, I’m an educated crustacean! I got degrees in music, diplomacy, and enough sense to avoid trouble. Well, I thought I had sense. Yet here I am, chasin’ afta dat headstrong teenager again. King Triton trusts me wit de biggest responsibilities, de matters of state an' ocean harmony. But dis? Dis is not what I signed up for.

"Sebastian," I mumble to meself, "ya could be advisin’ de king 'bout politics, makin’ beautiful music, or even leadin' an orchestra. But noooo, ya gotta go runnin' afta a girl who tink she can break all de rules, like dey don’t exist!"

I flap me claws in frustration, hurryin’ down de coral-strewn path. Just ahead, I see dat girl—Uma. An’ she's swimmin’ alongside Flounder, of all fish. What dey up to now? I narrow me eyes suspiciously as I see dem approachin' a big ol' rock, one dat blocks some kinda cave entrance.

"Ah, so dis is de next bit of trouble she’s gettin’ into, eh?" I mutter, paddlin' quietly behind dem.

I stop jus' in time to watch Uma glance left an' right. She's nervous, lookin' like she expectin' someone to catch her in de act. But it ain't gonna be no one else—jus' me, de one who always gotta keep things from blowin' up!

Den she rolls dat rock aside, revealin' a hidden cave, and my little crab heart nearly stops beatin’. I try to sneak closer, my claws clickin' softly against de ocean floor as I approach. She swims inside wit Flounder, slippin' outta sight.

I need to know what she's up to, I tell meself. For de good of de kingdom!

But wouldn’t ya know it, as I try to slip in afta dem, de blasted rock starts rollin' back. Next ting I know, de ting catches my legs. "Oi! Dis not supposed to happen!" I yelp, pullin' meself free, but not without a good bounce.

I tumble forward, right into de cave, crashin' into some kinda hourglass. A cave? Why she sneakin' into a cave, an' why it gotta be so dangerous for me?

Once I get back on me feet, I look 'round de place, an’ me eyes go wide as de ocean horizon at sunset. De walls of de grotto, dey covered in human stuff! Bottles, forks, mirrors—tings from de surface world! Oh no... Uma. Not dis again.

I duck behind a large seashell as Uma settles herself on a rock, twirlin’ a fork in her hands like it's some kinda treasure. Flounder lookin' at her, his big ol’ eyes filled wit worry.

I strain to listen, me claws shakin’ a little bit. Dis can't be happenin’ again. She’s like Ursula all ova! An' I ain't gonna deal wit de fallout dis time—no sah!

"Uma, are you okay?" Flounder asks, his voice soft, like he tryin’ to calm a hurricane before it hits de shore.

Uma jus' sighs, flippin' de fork between her fingers. "If only I could make him understand..." she mutters, an’ I freeze in place.

Who she talkin' 'bout? Triton? No... she talkin' 'bout me king’s rules, I know it!

I slap a claw over me mouth, tryin’ not to let any sound escape. I gotta hear everyting. I inch closer, peepin' 'round de side of a stone pillar. Uma, she look troubled, real troubled. Dis not de same girl who’s always so headstrong, always so sure of herself.

"I just don’t see things the way he does," she says, her voice soft but carryin' a heavy weight, like de tide rollin' in at night. "I just don’t see how a world that makes such wonderful things—could be bad."

Me whole body stiffens, de reality sinkin’ in like an anchor. She really doin' dis. She lookin’ at de human world wit dat same wonder, dat same fascination as Ursula did. But dis ain't gonna end well—ain't no way, no how.

I lean against de stone, heart racin'. I seen dis before, I been through dis before. One princess runnin’ off to de surface, riskin’ it all for a world she don't fully understand. De surface ain't all sunshine and pretty tings. It’s dangerous, an' Uma ain't ready for dat.

But how do I stop her? I can't just go an' tattle to de king, not yet. I gotta figure dis out meself. But de deeper I get into dis mess, de more I realize how outta control dis could get. If Uma really serious about dis—an' by de look in her eyes, I know she is—den dere’s no tellin’ what lengths she’ll go to.

I shake meself outta me thoughts an’ whisper under me breath, "Sebastian, ya gotta stop dis before it gets too far. Ya gotta make her see reason."

But as I watch Uma sittin' dere, longin' for a world she don't belong to, I feel a pang in me chest. Maybe... maybe I should try talkin' to her? Maybe dere’s someting I can say dat'll change her mind before she does someting drastic.

But one ting's for sure—dis girl, she got de same fire Ursula did. An' dat fire? It could light de whole ocean on fire if we ain't careful.

Suddenly uma started to sing

---------

Uma hummed quietly to herself, her voice soft as she swam through her hidden cavern of treasures. The ocean’s currents danced lazily around her, barely disturbing the collection she’d built over the years. Each object held a piece of the surface world she longed to explore, a world that had always felt just out of reach.

She paused in front of her silverware stand, picking up a strange little object with prongs—what had her surface friends called it? Digglehopper? She smiled to herself. They always had such odd names for things. Gently, she placed the fork back where it belonged, among the other shiny utensils.

“Look at this stuff…” Uma began to sing, her voice echoing gently through the cavern, “Isn’t it neat?”

Her eyes wandered over the shelves and alcoves that lined the walls, each one filled with wonders she’d collected over the years. The pride she felt for her collection was palpable, but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough.

“Wouldn’t you think my collection’s complete?” she mused aloud, her fingers trailing over a set of pearls. A smile tugged at her lips as she glanced around, admiring her treasures. “Wouldn’t you think I’m the girl… the girl who has everything?”

But as her gaze swept over the cavern, the familiar ache returned to her heart. Yes, she had gadgets and gizmos aplenty, more whozits and whatzits than anyone could ever need. And yet…

“I want more,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the gentle sound of the ocean around her.

Swimming to the center of the room, she twirled gracefully, her tail shimmering in the soft, dappled light that filtered through the water. The music box on one of her shelves caught her eye, and she gently spun its dial, watching as the little figures inside danced.

“I wanna be where the people are,” she sang softly, a yearning in her voice that even she couldn’t fully understand. “I wanna see… wanna see ’em dancin’.”

Her fingers brushed over the music box as it spun, the little figures twirling together. “Walkin’ around on those—what do you call ’em? Oh—feet.”

Uma sighed, her gaze drifting down to her tail. Flipping her fins was fun, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted to know what it was like to stroll along the beach, to dance on land with real legs. How could she ever understand the surface world if she couldn’t be a part of it?

“Flippin’ your fins, you don’t get too far,” she murmured, swimming to one of the shelves and pulling down a book she’d found. She opened it, but the words seemed like nonsense to her. “Legs are required for jumpin’, dancin’,” she continued, letting the book float away as she turned in the water, “Strollin’ along down a… what’s that word again?” She paused, searching her memory. “Street,” she said with a soft smile.

Her imagination took over, picturing herself walking, running even, on the shore. “Up where they walk… up where they run… up where they stay all day in the sun…”

Her tail swished behind her, her thoughts drifting to the freedom she imagined the surface world would bring. She was tired of being confined to the ocean’s depths. “Wanderin’ free… wish I could be… part of that world.”

A familiar sense of frustration bubbled inside her as she drifted through her cavern. What would she give to live out of these waters, even just for a day? The ocean was her home, but she felt like an outsider here sometimes. It was the surface world that called to her.

“What would I give if I could live out of these waters?” she sang, her voice growing a little louder. “What would I pay to spend a day warm on the sand?”

She could picture it so clearly in her mind—sand beneath her feet, the warmth of the sun on her skin. And on land, maybe people would understand her better. Maybe there, she wouldn’t be seen as just a daughter of the sea.

“Betcha on land they understand,” she mused, her voice wistful. “Bet they don’t reprimand their daughters.”

She scoffed at the thought, imagining what life must be like for the girls on land, free from the expectations and pressures she faced under the sea.

“Bright young women,” she whispered, her voice heavy with longing, “Sick of swimmin’, ready to stand.”

Her fingers trailed over a painting of the shoreline, and she clenched her fist, her desire to explore burning stronger than ever. She wanted to know what the people on land knew, to ask them all her questions and get the answers that had always eluded her.

“And ready to know what the people know,” she continued, lifting a small trinket and examining it curiously. “Ask ‘em my questions and get some answers.”

She swam through her cavern, picking up a portrait she’d once found of a bonfire. “What’s a fire, and why does it—what’s the word?” She searched her memory, frowning. “Burn?”

Her voice quieted as she gazed up toward the surface. When would it be her turn? When would she finally be free to explore the world above?

“When’s it my turn?” she sang, her heart aching with the thought. “Wouldn’t I love… love to explore that shore up above?”

She stared up at the shimmering light above the water’s surface, the barrier between her world and the one she longed to join.

“Out of the sea… wish I could be… part of that world,” she finished softly, her voice fading into the quiet of the cavern.

The clattering sound of Sebastian tumbling out of a beer stein broke her reverie, and Uma spun around, startled. Various items crashed to the ground, and Flounder darted into a nearby helmet, startled by the commotion.

“Sebastian!” she exclaimed, shaking her head as the little crab fumbled about, knocking over more of her collection in his clumsy panic.