A/N: Media is how I imagined Sirena. Basically, beautiful and a little scary. Plus tattoos.

Fabian. Queen Sirena's only son.

Not just Mer, but royal. In the backwards human world where women were meant to marry not rule, Fabian would be first in line for the throne underneath the surface, but among the angels, he'd be third, behind his two eldest sisters Niamh and Nautia. Even then, they were only nominated as Candidates until they became official ruler on Solstice Day.

It appeared that the Mer were the other extreme. For reasons I hadn't fathomed, Fabian did not seem to be an heir here at all.

I couldn't help but feel a little glad, and then I immediately quelled the thought. Fabian wasn't mine to hold. If he were to leave to live with his family...

'My lady? You look pale,' Sakura moved to touch my arm, and I gave a weak smile. Despite my best intentions, I couldn't help but hope Fabian wouldn't stay any longer than I did.

Time to put that behind me, I reminded myself. There are more important matters at hand.

'I am fine, thank you,' I said, giving her a small nod. 'What are we waiting for?'

The three of us were stood outside the Queen's reception room, where I had been told she would greet her Stepper subjects.

Steppers, Sakura informed me, was Mer slang for anyone who walked on two feet, angels and humans both.

On my other side, Scarlett made a noise of disapproval. 'Mer custom. You must be called in, and then you must shower this Queen in respect.'

Her tone showed her irritation.

I knew the rigmarole. The Mer were a species that relied hand and body signals to communicate underwater, and as such, their culture was developed on visual cues. They did have spoken language, which was a breathy and guttural sound that sounded even more foreign than the noises of dolphins screeching past the palace walls. But spoken language was reserved for foreigners only. The Mer signed, and they could take in a meaning with a single look. Wearing a certain necklace, I was told, could be an offense if worn incorrectly; a colour, imperfectly timed, could cause public humiliation.

My own combination of bralette and golden scaled skirt had been tampered by a steady stream of handmaidens on my way to the throne room. A netted bracelet apparently showed my reverence to the Marinochka, the Mer spoken word for Queen. A tiny bell, looped from my belt, showed my intentions meant well. Woven seaweed, dried and threaded with hemp to make a circlet decorated with shells, was a sign of loyalty to Queen Serina.

Scarlett glared at the shiny floor, her own grievances stemming from the ink along her shoulders. The Mer thought tattoos told tales of lives and as such, were a sign of status. They hadn't deemed Scarlett worldly enough of a tattoo, and she had been given the ink that was semi-permanent.

Her scowl was worse than the inked depiction of the island, with Opal above and the water below.

Sakura was staring at her with the ghost of smile, like she was trying not to laugh.

'I hate this place,' Scarlett muttered, crossing her arms over her exposed belly. Like me, she was wearing a matching garment that barely covered her skin. 'Don't they get cold? It's bloody freezing!'

Placing a finger over her lips, Sakura silently twitched her head towards the guards at the end of the hallway.

Before Scarlett could answer, the brass doors behind us swung open, and a small girl strode out.

My first startled thought was that her hair was the same colour as Fabian's; silver and thick, but moulded into a perfect bun adorned with shells of the sea. She looked no older than fifty (or five, in human years), and her skin was a vivid green, with occasional flush of skin running into scales. Large, fish-like eyes blinked at us, with irises of shocking gold.

The little girl made a gesture with her hands; horizontal, palm to palm, she raised them to her forehead and lowered her body.

We gaped at her hands. Webbed fingers flattened into fins.

Struck by a sudden thought, I eyed the girl's clothes. Lavish, beautiful clothing was woven into a dress. Rainbow scales formed a bodice at the front, and netted silver touched the floor, transparent enough to reveal webbed feet. No necklaces of reverence and subservience, I noted; the girl wore a crown of golden waves, with a teardrop of clear topaz.

I was certain she was one of the Queen's daughters.

In return, I raised my own palms in an open answer to the girl's call. Silently, we followed as she turned and swept regally into the chamber.

The room was circular, with archways leading off into other rooms. A large table, decorated with table runners and silver champagne glasses, was filled with food and people, Mer and Angels, around it. At the head of the table, in a large gilded throne of sculpted gems, sat the centre of attention.

The woman practically glittered.

She was tall. Tall even sat down at the table, where she was taller than anybody else. She sat with poise, her elbows pinned at her sides, and her head tilted in a manner that she found our approach highly fascinating.

But there was something predatory in her eyes.

Whilst she glittered like a soft jewel, her eyes gleamed like a cat that had spotted a mouse.

Her eyes, like her daughter's, were a deep gold. Scales of peridot crusted along her jaw, protecting the gills slashed at her neck. Her hair, as green as her scales and skin, curled around her neck.

She could only be the Queen, the Marinochka; the whole room waited on her with baited breath.

The Queen wore no clothing; her breasts were bare, but it was difficult to tell as her entire torso was covered in tattoos. Her lower body was etched in scales, turning from green to blue, and glimmering with silver. A single circlet sat atop her head.

Her lips, a cold blue, smiled loftily.

'Ephyra, do you not speak to our guests?' the Queen's accent was heavy.

Shrugging away, the little girl signed to her mother whose expression glowered.

'It is rude not to welcome guests,' the Queen said, 'Please greet them and show them to their seats.'

Her tone with her daughter was so curt, I could have sworn the room dropped several degrees colder. Around the room, my eyes darted— and settled on the person I had been searching for.

Sat at the Queen's right hand side, a young man with a thin, long face and strong jaw was staring hard at his hands, clenched before him on the table. Fabian's hair was longer once more, bound into a ponytail that ended at the nape of his neck.

My breathing seemed to catch.

Ephyra, the Queen's daughter, murmured something to us, and then took me by the wrist. She showed me to the seat next to Fabian, and sat Scarlett next to me. Sakura was sat much further away, where I noticed Arianna, Kirsten and Iggy were sat together.

Around the rest of the table were mostly females. Ephyra took her seat several down from her mother's left hand side. The girl opposite Fabian made my mouth drop open in shock.

Niamh. I had met her before.

She turned her head towards me and flashed that same dazzling grin of sharp, white teeth.

'Long time no see, Stepper,' she said. She had inherited those seagreen curls from her mother, and she tossed them in my direction.

Stepper. She said it without malice. Rather, it was said with intrigue that shone behind her eyes, as silver as Fabian's hair.

It seemed as though the whole family shared traits of silver and green. In fact, as I looked to Niamh's neighbour sat on her left, yet another Mer girl stared right back. Hers were long, red waves of burgundy and orange, reminding me of Valkyrie.

Where is that girl? I thought, glancing back down the table. My cluster of friends were all silent, watching me with grave intent. Kirsten seemed to try to tell me something; her eyes flashed. But then again, it might just have been Kirsten.

Our history wasn't clear.

The red-haired girl signed something to Niamh. Niamh nodded, twisting to face me.

'My sister Nautia greets you. Her Angelican is raw.'

Nautia! So I must be sat with all of the Queen's daughters. Looking from Niamh, I realised how obvious that must have been. Was Kirsten trying to warn me?

But what could be harmful about these girls?

Next to Nautia was Ephyra, and, chin barely reaching over the tabletop, a very young Earwyn. Earwyn was only just able to sit still, it seemed, and she was on her very best behaviour, judging by the terror with which she glanced at her mother, Sirena. With Earwyn's pudgy face and blonde locks, she looked most human of the girls.

I offered my best version of a Mer greeting; one hand over my right eye, and my head dipped to show my sincerity.

Nautia smiled acidly.

'We have been waiting for you, Princess Lumina Fawcett of Opal House,' Queen Sirena said. I noticed as she spoke, her hand stroked over a turtle the size of her palm, sat on the top of the table. 'Please join us in our thanks to merciful Aegea for this food.'

As soon as she spoke, a rustling burst out from the archways, and platters of trays were brought in. The Mer around the table were signing quickly to themselves, a prayer to their goddess.

I stared at the food ravenously as it was brought down.

The Mer were vegetarian. As people of the sea, they deemed fish their brethren and a crime to kill and eat one of their own. But I needn't have worried; the platters brought before me looked just as good, if not better, than any of the food I'd had recently.

Vegetables, cooked to perfection, lay steamed, fried and boiled before me, and stuffed with cheeses and sauces. My mouth watered as I reached automatically for the breads in the baskets, and to taste the salted rice dishes at my elbow.

Fabian nudged me.

I froze midway to biting off a chunk of bread, realising that the Queen was still murmuring and signing her prayer, and that the table was waiting for her to finish before eating. Despite not looking at me, I felt certain that the holdup was the Queen's test to see if I would have eaten first.

I gave Fabian what must have been a very grateful look, but he wouldn't meet my gaze.

That's the second time he's avoided looking at me. What's he playing at?

Thankfully, the Queen finished her prayer and without further ado, brought a peppered potato to her lips.

With a sigh that seemed to pass around the table, the group began to eat. For the first few minutes, I could say and think nothing more than needing sustenance, and the delicious flavours made my mouth explode with happiness.

Once my initial hunger had been satiated, and I could eat and think once more, I looked at Fabian.

He was determinedly looking down at his own plate, which was a lonely collection of minted peas with mash. Now in plain sight, I could see his clothes were as scarce as mine; he wore no shirt at all save for brightly painted tattoos striped like war paint across his abdomen, and a golden necklace that hung heavy against his heart. His trousers were loose, white and hugged his muscular figure.

But still he would not look at me.

Talk had broken out, quietly first and then more loudly. When I was sure I was safe to speak, I murmured to Fabian, 'Hey...'

Damn my intelligence, wavering at such a moment!

He halted, just enough so that only I noticed, in scraping his cutlery back and forth. 'Hey,' he replied.

'Is there something wrong? You won't look at me.'

'I'm not sure who you'll be, if I'm honest. Are you Lady now?'

I recoiled. Suddenly, the food tasted bitter. 'Are you angry because I got my memories back?'

'No!' Fabian paused, trying to keep his outburst lower. The Queen watched us with interest— predatory interest.

'Then...what? I have no idea!'

Clunk. Fabian knocked his tray of oatcakes across my lap. To anyone else, it was an accident. But I knew every move of Fabian's was deliberate— and I saw how he created the distraction.

The Queen looked away as Fabian dove to collect the oatcakes. Servants rushed forwards, but not before the young man straightened up.

As he did so, he managed to whisper close to my ear, 'Not here. I'll come— later.'

And we spoke little else of importance for the remainder of the meal.

---

Hey everyone...MERRY CHRISTMAS!

This is my first Wattpad Christmas, so it's extra special. And I wanted to bring you another update as a present so...here it is. What did you think? Fabian returning in the "flesh" so to speak, and meeting the four girls of Sirena's...

Please vote comment and add to your reading lists/libraries/etc!

Lots of love

Larissa