As soon as The Story door opened, Rachel smelled the salty scent of the ocean. Once her boots hit the rocks beneath her, they almost slipped from the dampness of the waves. Alan, Merlin, and Guinevere were only a few paces behind her, and Merlin caught her arm to keep her from sliding off the small island the door had opened over. For a moment, none of them spoke as they surveyed the endless ocean around the little rocky island they stood on. Then, Alan broke the silence ruefully. "I absolutely detest the water."

Merlin glanced at the bard and let go a long breath. "I must confess a certain discomfort around it myself," he said. "And either this is a very tiny Story, or the actual Story is under the water."

He and Rachel exchanged glances before saying at the same time, "The Little Mermaid Story."

"I do not like the sound of that," Alan mumbled nervously. Guinevere was surveying the water at their feet thoughtfully, as if she was actually thinking about jumping in there. Rachel almost wanted to see her try.

The Queen slowly turned to look at Rachel, as if sensing the unspoken challenge of the Guardian. "Mermaids live under the water," she said. "We lack the ability to breathe under the water. What makes you think your errant fiancé is down there?"

"The Story led us here," Rachel replied calmly. "And if it led us here, then that means somehow, Guy was able to get underwater here."

"But how? And why?" Alan complained. "Who in their right mind would want to take a dip in the ocean?"

"No one said he was in his right mind," Merlin muttered. He subsided when Rachel glared irritably at him. "But he might have had help. For some reason, he wanted to go to this particular Story. Who knows? He might even still be here."

"Is anything ever that simple for us?" Alan replied. "Maybe if I sing a song, he'll emerge from hiding and try to kill me."

"You mean, if I don't kill you first?" Merlin answered with a groan.

Rachel knelt down at the end of the island, ignoring the other two for the time being. If her Story door had brought her here in her search for Guy, then there had to be a good reason. Or at least, a reason that might better serve to explain what in the world he was up to. "Alan, Queen Guinevere, you can't join us."

"Praise heaven for small miracles. But how do you intend on swimming in the ocean?" Alan asked, plopping down right in the middle of the little island. In contrast, Guinevere looked sullen, irritated at being left behind. It wasn't Rachel's fault that the girl was not a Guardian, though, so she refused to feel guilty about it.

"As a Guardian, we must learn to adapt to each Story," Merlin said. "I recall there even being one where we had to become animals ... but the precise Story eludes me."

"It doesn't matter right now," Rachel said impatiently. "We can reminisce when we find Guy." Without warning, she jumped backwards, into the water. Alan and Gwen rushed forward worriedly, but she surfaced only a moment later. Enjoying the peculiar sensation, Rachel flipped onto her back and lifted up her shining blue mermaid tail. Gills opened and closed on the tail and on either side of her neck, breathing in the water for air. "Come on, Merlin."

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather do this without me?" Merlin asked nervously. "I mean, maybe you would ..."

"Merlin." Rachel crossed her arms and splashed him with her tail. "Let's go."

"Rachel, I really think I would only hinder you more than help ..."

"So you don't want to be a mermaid, Merlin?" Alan asked innocently. Rachel rolled her eyes as Merlin's face turned bright red.

"Mer-man, Alan! I would not be a mermaid!" Merlin snapped, backing up from Alan. However, in doing so, he moved closer to the ledge, and Rachel got tired of waiting for him. She grabbed his ankle and jerked him back, making him tumble into the water next to her. The unfortunate sorcerer spluttered and cursed, as if he was drowning, before Rachel smacked him. "You're going to kill me!"

"You can't drown!" Rachel yelled. "You're a merman, for heaven's sakes!"

Slowly, Merlin calmed down, awkwardly flicking his steel-grey tail up to look at it. There was a sheepish glint in his eyes as he lowered it and tread water beside her. "Oh. I suppose you're right. I hadn't thought of that."

Alan was chuckling, grinning up at the two of them from the safety of the rocks. "I should compose a song about this ..."

Both Guardians splashed him, sending the bard scrambling back to safety before he slipped into the water himself. "That's not very nice!" Alan complained, now out of sight.

Rachel rolled her eyes. "We're going to try to find Guy. You two need to stay up there. And just ... try not to die."

"You have a terrible sense of humor," Guinevere complained.

"I'm ... actually not joking. If anyone opens a Story door here, this is where they'll end up. So you need to be ready at all times. Hopefully, me and Merlin can find someone who will have seen Guy and know where is."

"We will return at dusk," Merlin added, sounding like he was trying to regain his composure. "That way you don't have to be here alone at night."

"I'm not a child, you know. You don't have to come over here and watch me," Guinevere said sullenly.

Merlin made a helpless little gesture. "I know. It's just ..."

"We don't have time for explanations," Rachel interrupted, tired of them just conversing. "We have to go, now. Just ... don't go anywhere." She flipped around and dove into the water, Merlin following her after a moment.

As the two of them dove deeper into the water, she clearly heard Alan call after her, "Oh, very funny, Lady Andric!" She could hear the laughter in his voice, and against her will, she chuckled a little bit.

Merlin sent her a disapproving stare. "Must you encourage his ... behavior?"

"I'm not encouraging anyone. I just think that sometimes, he can be a good influence on all us sour-faced Guardians."

Merlin gave a shrug. "To each their own, I suppose. I find him intolerable."

"Sure you do," Rachel said sarcastically. "You two are like an old married couple."

"Excuse me?" Merlin said, looking insulted. "I would think you would want better for me than to pair me up with that bard."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "You can fight it all you want. Anyway, we need to get moving, alright? I want to know what's going on here as soon as possible."

Merlin gave a shrug, looking down at his robes. Then, with a sigh, he used his magic and made them disappear, leaving him as a very skinny young man with a tail. "I hate this. But hold on ..." He likewise used his magic on Rachel, leaving her with a sparkling blue tank top. "There. Now at least we'll blend in. Just in case some of these merpeople aren't friendly."

Rachel gave a slight nod, relieved that he'd thought of that. The idea hadn't even crossed her mind. "I'm glad you thought of that." She added in a mutter, mostly to herself, "At least mermaids here aren't naked."

Merlin chuckled softly. "It's a children's Story, Rachel. Of course the mermaids won't be naked." Then he started swimming again, his tail flopping awkwardly in the water.

Rachel sighed. "I guess you didn't have the illustrations my book did," she mumbled to herself, before she followed him through the water.

. . . . . . . . .

Alan wasn't so upset by being left on the rock, since it meant he didn't have to go into the water. However, the sulking Queen ... that was another thing entirely. She was sitting on the rock, her arms crossed, muttering under her breath about this or that. Alan just sort of ignored her for the time being, but she was growing crosser and crosser the longer they sat there in silence. Finally, Alan sat down beside her. "Are you alright?"

"I can't believe we got left behind," Guinevere said in consternation.

"Well, in my humble opinion, I would much rather be left here on this rock than floundering around under the water," Alan answered. "What about you? Did you really fancy taking a swim?"

"Well ..." Guinevere hesitated, before shrugging miserably. "No, I suppose not. But I just ..."

"Know that Rachel really left you behind because she doesn't like you?" Alan suggested.

Gwen stared at him for a few moments. "You certainly have a way with words, don't you?" she said, sighing as she hugged her arms around herself. "But yes. You're correct. I can't claim to not understand precisely why she doesn't like me, but I do wish that she would try to understand."

"Oh. I can't really ..." Alan trailed off, speechless for the first time in a while.

After several long moments of silence between the two of them, Alan dared to venture forth with another question. "You and Merlin ... you're very close, it seems. Am I correct?"

Guinevere glanced over at him, twirling one of her blonde curls around her finger. "Yes, we are. But it's unfortunately a bit more complicated than that."

"Because you're already married?"

Gwen winced. "It was an arranged marriage. I didn't have any choice in the matter, Alan. The decision was made for me. I don't love Arthur as my husband. As a brother, perhaps. But not as a husband."

"How does he feel about you?" Alan asked softly.

Guinevere looked away from him. "He loves me. Very dearly."

"Ah." That did make things a bit complicated. In Alan's world, love was very important. But at the same time, the sacrament of marriage was not something so easily broken apart. "What will you do?"

"Probably what we've been doing for months," Guinevere said softly. "Sneak a little kiss if we're feeling bold. Otherwise? Merlin is too devoted a servant to Arthur to ever attempt anything more."

"And is that disappointing to you?" Alan folded his hands together, studying the Queen carefully. "That he is so devoted to your husband?"

Guinevere hesitated, before she shook her head. "His loyalty is admirable. His goodness is enviable. But it does ... to a certain extent. I wish he shared my feelings, but if he did—"

"You might not love him the same way," Alan guessed. Guinevere winced, but she didn't answer, which was confirmation enough for him. "Sounds like you're in quite the conundrum."

Guinevere sighed again, standing up. Her dress slid effortlessly over the rocks as she began to pace anxiously. "Tell me. I honestly don't know much about Rachel, aside from her being a hero and all that nonsense. What do you think of her?"

"Me?" It took Alan a moment to gather his thoughts. "Well ... she's not very talkative. But she demands attention when she does speak. She's a natural leader, but she doesn't know it yet. When she smiles, she looks absolutely stunning, but she doesn't do it very often. It takes her a while to warm up to people, but when she does, you should consider yourself lucky."

"I doubt she'll ever warm up to me," Guinevere muttered, crossing her arms as she continued to pace.

"Oh, and there is another thing. Her brother, Ewan. He died during our fight against the intruder. She couldn't bring him back, so that's why she's Morpheus now. She took his place to stay in The Story and stay with Gisborne," Alan said. "So that could be why love is such a sensitive topic right now. Her own true love sort of threw it right back into her face. I can't honestly blame her for being angry about ... your situation."

"So because she's having her own love problems, she has to take those out on me? How is that fair?"

"Emotions are rarely fair, Milady Guinevere," Alan answered softly. "One doesn't quite understand them, even when they're your own. Surely you of all people can understand that?"

She got very quiet after that, for some time. He gave up watching her and hummed softly to himself, tapping on his knee absently. He did not have his lute with him, but it did little to concern him. He enjoyed just singing to himself, whether in his head or out loud. After several moments of this, Guinevere turned to look at him. "What about you?" she said. "I poured out my heart and soul to you. So what can you tell me about yourself?"

Alan hadn't been expecting that question, and he blushed, looking down at his weathered boots for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. "Me?" he said. "Well ... I'm a bard. From Sherwood Forest. I was formerly an outlaw until The Story got rewritten, which I must confess is a very odd feeling, to actually belong somewhere instead of being an outcast. I'm married, and I have a daughter now. She's almost two years old now."

"A child?" Guinevere sighed, longing in her voice. "How lucky you are. I wish heaven had blessed me with a child as it has blessed you."

"Well, I had to work hard for that," Alan confessed.

"What do you mean?"

"Ellen, my wife, was promised to another man. A cruel knight named John, who only saw her as a prize to be won," Alan said, bitterness in his voice. "I begged Robin to help me rescue her. We had been sweethearts for such a long time. I—I couldn't bear for her to be married to such a pig. I nearly died for my effort, but it was all worth it. She was rescued on her wedding day, and we were married that night. Friar Tuck, bless his heart, he officiated the ceremony. I couldn't have been happier."

Guinevere smiled at him, her brown eyes soft as a downy pillow. "How very romantic, Master Dale."

"Please, just Alan, your highness," Alan answered with a smile of his own.

Guinevere chuckled, curtsying. "Only if you refer to me as Gwen and not your highness. Here in The Story, I am not a Queen of anything. I'm just me."

Warming up to the Queen slowly, Alan grinned and motioned for her to sit beside him. She did, but was up moments later, pacing once more. It seemed she couldn't sit still. "Heavens above, if only we could know what was going on down there!" she exclaimed, sighing loudly. She did that a lot, Alan had noticed.

"You get used to it," Alan said, still sitting calmly at the edge of the water. "It seems that traveling with a Guardian either means throwing yourself headlong into danger, or sitting there, waiting until something actually happens."

"I don't like waiting."

"I couldn't tell," Alan answered with a chuckle. "Perhaps I'll try to lure them back here with my singing. I believe that even if Merlin was dead, he would return from the grave to get me to stop singing. Don't you?"

Alan closed his eyes, humming a bit to find his pitch. Then he began to sing; the song was a hymn, describing the pain of Jesus before his crucifixion, which had always spoke deeply to Alan. He heard Guinevere sit down behind him, and he felt like even the waves lapping against the rocks were silenced.

This was why Alan loved music. It cast a spell around the singer and the listeners, and seemed to form an eerie circle of silence around them. Music spoke to the soul. Whether a hymn like the one Alan was singing, a ballad like the one he had composed for Rachel, or even a simple folk dance, it could transform the mood of a room—or, in this case, a rock—in an instant.

As he sang softly the heart-wrenching hymn, he closed his eyes, entirely focused on his music. There was a big difference between his joking singing to irritate his friends and the serious performing singing he did to impress people. From behind him, he thought he heard Guinevere gasp in appreciation to one of his high notes, and he grinned for a moment. There was nothing quite like appreciation for his good music.

Once he had finished, he stared off across the ocean before finally breaking character to burst out, "Where is your applause? That was some of my finest work yet!"

When she didn't answer, he assumed she had been moved to tears and turned to look at her. Except ... she wasn't there. "Gwen?" Alan asked, his eyes going wide. "Guinevere, are you there?" He really doubted that she had perched on the edge of a rock, though, and rushed over to where she had been moments before. There were some ripples in the water that made Alan nervous. "Guinevere!"

Ah, if only he knew how to swim ... but how could this have happened? How could she have just disappeared like this? Unless something had pulled her into the water ...

He cursed softly and moved to step back at that unwelcome thought. Unfortunately for him, he was a few moments too late. A hand shot out of the water and wrapped around his ankle. Seconds before all the curses he was thinking could spew out of Alan's lips, the hand had jerked him forward and into the water. Despite how he thrashed, he couldn't keep himself from being pulled further down, the beautiful sky and sun farther away from him.

The last thought Alan had before he lost consciousness was how he had always hated the water.