A week passed, and during that time, Juvia spent nearly every hour exploring the surface world. She traveled from one body of water to another, marveling at the wonders above. She witnessed fruits ripening in gardens, snow melting on mountaintops, the sun rising and setting, and humans bustling about. Yet, her favorite moments were spent visiting Lucy at the oasis. Their friendship deepened with each encounter, as the mermaid eagerly absorbed lessons about humanity from the princess.

Lucy introduced Juvia to the intricacies of human life—clothes, shoes, dancing, homes, land creatures, and various ceremonies and traditions. However, it was art that captivated Juvia the most. Lucy shared the history of art and demonstrated her skills in painting and sketching, showcasing stunning displays of color and design. The range of hues, from dark to light, the interplay of straight lines and curves, spots and splatters, created a seemingly limitless variety. Each piece was a beautiful expression of passion, and Juvia cherished the stories behind them as she admired Lucy's work.

"I like this one best," Juvia said, admiring the medium-sized canvas depicting two lovebirds perched on a tree branch, bathed in the warm glow of sunset. "It looks so realistic, and the imagery is beautiful."

"I painted that last spring," the artist replied. "The ambassador gifted me a lovebird, and at first, I was thrilled to have her as a pet. But she never sang for me—not once. She just sat in her cage, looking so sad. For the longest time, I couldn't understand why. Then one night, I awoke to the sound of her singing for the first time. I saw that it was because another lovebird was perched on the balcony across from her cage. That's when I realized he was her mate, and she was unhappy because she was kept away from him. I immediately released her, and she flew off with her mate. They didn't go far; they built a nest in the palace gardens. One lovely sunset, as I watched them together in a tree, I knew it would make the perfect painting."

"What a wonderful story—just as wonderful as this painting," Lucy sighed, gazing at the artwork. "I wish I could see such lovely things in my world."

"You really like it?"

"Yes."

"Then why don't you keep it?"

"Oh no, I couldn't. You created this; it rightfully belongs to you."

"But I see lovebirds almost every day. You're lucky if you spot a regular bird. I think you would appreciate this much more than I ever would."

"Oh, thank you, Lucy. Thank you so much! Look, Conlan, isn't it pretty?" She showed the painting to her water horse friend. Conlan was a frequent visitor to the oasis and the only one Juvia could trust with her secret about having a human friend. Granted, it was easier because Conlan couldn't talk but that meant one less secret to keep.

When Conlan saw the painting, he excitedly splashed about in the water. He didn't understand Juvia's fascination any more than any other sea creature did, but he loved seeing her happy.

"I read in a book that water horses are supposed to be much bigger," Lucy observed.

"Well, that's because he's still just a baby," Juvia explained. "Just wait until he grows up; he'll be so big he won't fit in this body of water."

"Will he still be this cute, though?" Lucy giggled.

Conlan liked that comment and suddenly jumped out of the water, startling Lucy and causing her to fall back.

"Conlan, what are you doing? Come back!" Juvia called out.

But Conlan playfully waddled over to Lucy, leaped onto her, and began to lick her cheek like an overly excited puppy. Initially, Juvia worried that Lucy might get upset with the water horse's boldness and possibly react with anger. Instead, Lucy erupted into laughter.

"Stop it! That tickles! Ha! Ha!" Her smile was as radiant as the sun. "Good boy! Down! Down! Ha! Ha!"

"He really likes you," Juvia said, grinning.

"Really? I never would have guessed!" Lucy laughed.

"Alright, Conlan, that's enough. You're getting her clothes wet. Come back to the water before you dry out."

The water horse obeyed, returning to the sea as Juvia and Lucy chatted for another hour before parting ways. Eager to add the painting in her arms to her little sanctuary, Juvia swam swiftly toward her garden. Unfortunately, in her haste, she collided right into her brother.

"Oh! Hi, Gajeel!" she exclaimed. "Sorry, I didn't see you there."

He glanced down at the painting with evident displeasure.

"What's that?" he asked, his tone sharp.

"What's what?"

"That thing you're holding. Where did it come from?"

"Oh, that?"

Uh-oh, this wasn't good. If she admitted that someone had given it to her, she'd have to reveal who, and that would mean confessing her contact with a human—a forbidden act. Juvia hated to lie, especially to her family, but if Gajeel found out the truth, he would undoubtedly lose his temper. Heaven knows what would happen then. Her brother had never been one to approach things with an open mind or engage in reasonable discussion—especially not without Levy around to temper him. So, Juvia decided a little white lie was her best option to avoid trouble.

"I... I found it. It fell off a ship and sank right in front of me. Humans call it a painting. Take a look; isn't it pretty?"

But Gajeel didn't see it that way at all. To him, nothing from the above world was beautiful or good; it was all dangerous.

"Get rid of it."

"What? Why?"

"Because it's a human thing, and anything human is dangerous."

"What harm could possibly come from this?"

"I don't know, and I don't care to find out. Humans are evil; nothing good can come from them. They make fish hooks to catch us and nets to trap us, not to mention the pollution they carelessly dump down here."

"But Gajeel, this painting hasn't caused any harm. It's a thing of beauty."

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and I see none in this."

"I agree," Panther Lily chimed in, looking at it with disdain. "Just look at it; it's hideous."

"Oh, you two just don't understand art," Juvia scoffed.

"And how is it that you do?" Gajeel asked her, suspicion lacing his tone.

"Oh... Um... Well..." Juvia squeaked, reminding herself to tread carefully. "I observe humans up close, listening and learning from their conversations."

"How close?"

"Close enough that they can't see me, but I can hear them."

"Juvia." Gajeel raised an eyebrow, skepticism evident. "Have you been talking to humans?"

"No! No, of course not. Why would I do something so foolish? It's against the law, and as a princess, I must always follow the law. Always."

If Gajeel had been a more observant merman, he might have noticed the signs of her deceit: her altered speech, unfocused eyes, and excessive fidgeting. But fortunately for Juvia, he overlooked those details, allowing her to deceive him—for now.

"Alright, just get rid of that thing."

"But I don't want to! It's mine."

"I don't want you playing with human objects."

"I don't care. You're not my father."

"No, but I am your king, and I order you to dispose of it."

"That's not fair! It's an abuse of power! There are no laws against keeping human objects."

"Maybe I made a mistake allowing you to go up there. Ever since your birthday, you've been swimming to the surface constantly, hardly ever home. You're pushing your limits. If you're not careful, you might be seen by those barbarians."

"Gajeel, they're not barbarians."

"They're dangerous. Do you think I want to see my little sister caught by a fisherman's hook?"

"Gajeel, I'm seventeen! I'm not a child!"

"Then act like one. Listen to me for once."

"Why should I? You never listen to me."

"I don't have to. I'm the king, and I'm older than you."

"By eight years."

"I'm still more mature and knowledgeable."

"You are not."

"Am too."

"Are not."

"Am too!"

"Are not!"

"Enough! Dispose of that thing, and I never want to see you with another human object again! Is that clear?"

Juvia tried to glare at her brother, determined not to back down. But it was futile; once Gajeel made up his mind, nothing could sway him. With a sigh, she swam away, Conlan trailing behind.

Gajeel sighed. Being a king and a guardian to his sisters was no easy task. He loved them dearly and wanted to raise them as their parents would have wished. But he was terrified of losing them as he had lost his parents. He had to be tough, but what if he was too harsh?

"Do you think I was too hard on her?" he asked Lily.

"Well, somewhat, your majesty. But you always get a bit cranky on the day you meet with the fish heads of state."

"Don't be ridiculous!" Gajeel retorted.

"Oh, I try not to, your majesty," Lily chuckled. "But sometimes it just slips out."

"I have to be firm, Lily. Humans will be our ruin. Why won't she listen to me? Sherry talks about moving to another ocean after she marries, even though she can't navigate. Meredy wants to study in the northern areas of our realm at just sixteen—far too young. And Chelia wants to use my trident! Is she mad?"

"Well, they can't help it, your majesty. They're just stubborn." Lily muttered under his breath, "Runs in the family."

"But with Sherry, Meredy, and Chelia, I know they're not doing anything truly dangerous. But with Juvia going to the surface, you just never know."

"Maybe she needs more supervision."

"You mean someone to watch over her and keep her out of trouble?"

"Exactly."

"Good idea, Lily. Thank you for volunteering."

"Wait! What?"

"From now on, I want you to keep an eye on Juvia. Make sure nothing bad happens when she goes to the surface, and if possible, try to keep her from going up there at all. Perhaps you could distract her with some lessons; she needs to work on her singing anyway."

The sea cat froze. That was not what he had in mind. Taking care of Juvia would be a full-time job. He was the royal court composer, not a babysitter. But he knew there was no arguing with the king. When the king asked you to do something, you did it—like it or not.

"Oh, I'm never opening my mouth again, except when I'm eating."