Since the moment she rescued a human prince from drowning, Juvia had begun to change. There was a faraway look in her eyes now, and she drifted into daydreams more often than not. Every morning she woke humming soft love songs, sighing to herself as though carried by some invisible current. She spent nearly every waking hour near the surface world.

Something had shifted in her—and her sisters had noticed.

"What is with her lately?" Chelia asked one morning, glancing toward the open water. "She's acting... fishy."

"I'll say," Sherry agreed. "Swimming in circles, chasing her own tail."

"She's dizzy. Dreamy," Meredy added. "Like her head's up in the foam."

"And if you ask where she's going, she just giggles like a fool," Chelia said. "Is she ill? Or insane?"

"No, it's not that," Sherry replied, shaking her head.

"Could it be a phase?" Meredy wondered.

"No..." Sherry frowned thoughtfully. "No, it's more than that."

"Then what is it?" the younger two pressed.

At that moment, Juvia drifted past them, humming softly as she absentmindedly fluffed her hair. So lost in her thoughts was she that she swam straight into Gajeel and Levy.

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" she gasped. "Good morning, Gajeel—Levy!"

She kissed her brother on the cheek, then twirled away, still smiling, still humming, spinning as though caught in a dream.

There was a pause.

Then, all at once, understanding dawned on everyone in the room.

Everyone except Gajeel.

"Oh, she's got it bad," Sherry whispered with a giggle.

"What?" Gajeel asked, frowning. "What's she got?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Levy said with a soft, knowing smile. "Juvia's in love."

"In love?" he repeated, caught completely off guard.

"Yep," Sherry said. "That's the only explanation. She's met someone—someone special. Someone who's stolen her heart and left her floating like she's swimming on air. Oh, Gajeel, isn't it wonderful?"

Gajeel crossed his arms, still trying to process it. "Juvia isn't ready for that."

"Of course she is," Levy said gently. "She's seventeen. It's her time. I was even younger than she is when I fell in love with you."

Gajeel flushed at that, looking away.

"Well... I'll admit, it's nice to see her this happy," he muttered. "But who's the new merman in her life?"

"We don't know," Meredy said. "She hasn't told us anything."

"But I bet he's the catch of the day," Sherry added with a grin. "Handsome, strong—like my Ren."

"I don't understand why she wouldn't tell me," Gajeel said.

Levy laughed softly. "Gajeel, you didn't even notice she was in love. We had to point it out to you."

"...Fair," he admitted. "Still, I'd like to know who he is."

"Maybe Lily knows something," Chelia suggested.

"Yes—of course!" Gajeel said, perking up. "I'll ask him after today's meeting with the fish heads of state. If anyone knows, it'll be him."

Yes Panther Lily did know. He knew exactly who Juvia had given her heart to and it was by no means a merman, as her family suspected. No it was a human. Prince Gray. From the very instant their lips had met in that first, fleeting kiss, Juvia had been unable to forget him. His face, his voice, the warmth of him—it lingered with her like a tide that refused to recede. For a time, she had tried to push it all away. She knew what such feelings meant, knew the danger they carried.

But it was no use. The love of a mermaid was not something so easily cast aside. In the end, her longing overcame her, and she made up her mind, she had to see him again. After days of quiet searching and careful questions whispered to passing sea creatures, she finally discovered where the young prince lived. His castle stood along the western coast, its pale towers rising above the cliffs.

Juvia began to swim closer to shore than any of her kind dared, slipping into the shallows and hiding among the rocks where the water met the land. There, night after night, she watched him. Gray believed himself alone beneath the moonlight. She saw him often—standing upon his balcony, gazing out at the sea, or sailing across the water in a fine boat, with music drifting softly through the air and banners fluttering in the breeze. Juvia would peer through the green rushes, her breath catching at the sight of him.Sometimes, when the wind lifted her long, silvery veil, those who glimpsed it mistook it for the wings of a swan gliding across the water.

On many nights, fishermen passed nearby with their torches burning bright, their voices carrying over the waves. She listened as they spoke of the young prince—of his kindness, his courage, his gentle heart. They praised the way he treated even the lowliest among them with respect. Each word only deepened her affection. And each time, she found herself grateful all over again that she had saved him—remembering how she had held him in her arms as the waves raged around them... and how, in his half-conscious state, he had kissed her so fervently.

Yet he knew nothing of it.

"I wish I could speak to him," she sighed one evening, her eyes fixed on the balcony where he stood.

"Juvia, this is madness," Panther Lily said, his voice low but firm. "If your brother ever finds out—"

"I know, I know," she replied quickly. "But you should hear what the sailors say about him, Lily. They say he's honest. Kind. Brave. That he treats servants and commoners as equals. He loves the sea..." Her voice softened. "And they say he's lonely. Just like me."

"I haven't heard all that," Lily said. "But I have heard he's meant to marry."

"And I've heard he wants to marry for love."

Lily gave her a skeptical look. "And what makes you think he'd love you?"

Juvia hesitated only a moment.

"...He kissed me."

"In a fevered daze," Lily countered. "He probably doesn't even remember you. As far as he's concerned, you were nothing more than a dream."

But Panther Lily was wrong. Gray had not forgotten. Not for a single moment. He remembered the girl who had saved him from the sea—the softness of her voice, the light in her eyes, the way she had held him as though he were something precious. Since that night, he had not been the same. He searched for her endlessly, though he knew not where to begin. He walked the shores by day, scanning every face, every shadow, every flicker of movement along the water.

At night, she haunted his dreams. He longed to hear her voice again. Longed to see her. Longed to find the girl who had stolen his heart and vanished like the tide. Nothing else could hold his thoughts.

"Where did she go?" he murmured one night, gazing out over the darkened sea. "Where can she be...? When will she come again?"

"With all due respect, sire," Lahar said carefully, "you've been searching these waters for weeks and have found no trace of this... mystery maiden."

"I gave my word that I would find her," Gray replied, his voice firm. "And I will. That voice—I can't forget it. No one else could sound like that. It lingers in my dreams... makes me feel as though I'm flying."

"You cannot chase a dream forever," Lahar pressed. "You must turn your attention to more pressing matters. Such as choosing a bride. I have arranged meetings with countless eligible young ladies, and you have refused every one of them. Do not forget—I promised your father, on his deathbed, that you would marry."

Gray turned sharply. "You promised him that I would marry—not that I would marry just anyone."

"These are not just anyone, sire," Lahar said, exasperation creeping into his tone. "The baron's daughter, for instance—she would have made a perfectly suitable bride."

"Suitable?" Gray scoffed. "Her breath alone nearly killed me. And that's without mentioning her temper—or her manners, which rival those of a pig."

Lahar sighed. "Very well. What of the young duchess? She was elegant, refined—she smelled of lilacs, her hair like silk, her complexion flawless—"

"And her personality?" Gray cut in dryly. "Cold as ice. And she had a bird's brain."

"Do you not think you are being a touch... selective?"

"Lahar, I know you mean well," Gray said, softening slightly. "Truly, I do. But these women you parade before me—none of them could make any man happy. They're all painted, powdered, pampered..." He waved a hand dismissively. "Take away their gowns and titles, and what have you got? Whiny women."

Lahar folded his arms. "Then tell me, sire—what are you looking for in a bride?"

Gray hesitated.

"I... don't know."

With that, he turned from the balcony and stepped into his bedchamber. His gaze drifted, almost unconsciously, to a small painted portrait resting nearby.

It showed him as a child, walking along the shore between his parents—the late King Silver and Queen Mika of Verdenshav. His chest tightened.
His mother had been beautiful—everyone had said so—but it was her gentleness he remembered most. Her kindness. The way she smiled as though the world itself were something precious. His father had been different—strong, noble, with just enough rebellion in him to make life interesting. Gray knew he had inherited that from him.

Summer had been their season. They would sail together, or swim in the warm waters, or spread out picnics along the shore. Sometimes they raced his toy boats when the sea was calm, laughing as the tiny vessels bobbed along the waves. Other days, they wandered the beach collecting seashells. But his favorite moments were the quiet ones. Evenings spent drifting in a small rowboat across a hidden lagoon. Fireflies glowing softly in the dusk. The gentle chorus of frogs and nightingales filling the air as they fed the birds and floated beneath the fading light.

They had been such wonderful parents.
And more than that they had been deeply, undeniably in love. Gray had been young when his mother passed, but he remembered it clearly—the way they looked at each other, as though nothing else in the world existed. The way they were always close, always touching, always finding small ways to make one another smile.

Their love had been effortless. Natural. Real.
Like something out of a fairy tale only better—because it had been true.

"Do you remember when my father first met my mother?" Gray asked quietly.

Lahar inclined his head. "I was young—but I remember. I was training as a page at the time. It was your father's eighteenth birthday, and your grandparents wished to make the occasion... unforgettable. They arranged a grand concert in his honor."

He smiled faintly at the memory.

"And your mother was the kingdom's most celebrated opera singer."

Gray's gaze softened. "My father used to say that nothing in this world was more beautiful than seeing her sing for him that first time."

Lahar chuckled under his breath. "Yes... I remember the look on his face. Completely lovestruck. And when the performance ended, he asked her to dance—so nervous he nearly tripped over his own feet."

"And everyone laughed," Gray said.

"They tried not to," Lahar admitted. "But yes... they did."

Gray shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Everyone except her. She didn't laugh. She simply took his hand... and guided him through the dance. She looked at him as though he were the only man in the world."

His expression grew distant.

"That's when he knew."

A quiet pause settled between them.

"That's what I want," Gray continued. "Someone like her. Someone who wouldn't mock me or laugh behind my back like all those shallow women you've tried to set me up with."

He turned slightly, his voice softening, almost drifting.

"A girl like sunlight dancing on the sea... like music that never ends. Someone with the heart of an angel—and a voice warm as a summer sky."

His eyes flickered toward the horizon.

"Someone like the girl who saved my life."

A breath.

"She's the one I want to marry."

Lahar watched him carefully. "Your Highness... you know nothing about her."

Gray shook his head. "Her eyes told me everything I needed to know."

"At the very least, you could give other prospects a fair chance."

"I have," Gray said flatly. "And they are all the same."

Lahar hesitated, then straightened slightly. "Not the Princess of Lazan City. Her father claims she is gentle, kind—sweet-natured. She wishes to marry for love, just as you do. It could be... a promising match."

Gray considered this.

"I'd like to meet her," he said at last. "But I doubt anything will come of it. I cannot seem to rid my thoughts of the girl who saved me."

"Then perhaps," Lahar said, a spark of strategy entering his tone, "we can turn that to your advantage."

Gray glanced at him. "What do you mean?"

"As you know, the Magnolia Nation celebrates the Summer Solstice with great festivals and balls. Invite the princess—and her father—to spend the season at your family's summer palace there."

Gray narrowed his eyes slightly. "Go on."

"On the night of the solstice, we host a grand ball... and a contest."

"A contest?"

"Yes," Lahar said. "An assembly of eligible young ladies, each invited to sing before you. If your mysterious maiden is real—and if her voice is as unique as you claim—then surely, she will reveal herself."

Gray was silent for a moment, weighing the idea.

"...Very well," he said at last. "I will do it. But I make no promises."

Lahar bowed. "As you wish, my lord. I shall write to the sultan at once."

When Lahar departed to make the arrangements, Gray returned to the balcony. The sea stretched endlessly before him, dark and shimmering beneath the moonlight. He listened. In the hush of the waves against the shore, he could almost hear her laughter. In the silver glow upon the sand, he could almost see her smile. And somewhere beyond the pale horizon... he felt her.

Waiting.

Strange as a dream—yet as real as the sea itself.
And he would find her. No matter how long it took.