Glorious Return
Moodswings
Ariel sat in the lukewarm bathwater, slid the bottom of her foot over the smooth porcelain bottom, and missed her fins.
She really did try not to spend much time missing them. Most of the time, she was grateful for her beautiful human feet. Eric danced wonderfully, and she felt weightless in his arms on the ballroom floor in a way she rarely did since leaving the ocean. Gravity, Grimsby had taught her the day he found her trying to exit out one of the second story windows because it was the fastest way to the courtyard, ruled life on the land, and it was a harsh dictator.
But she’d managed to stop tripping over smooth marble floors before the ladies and gentlemen of court stopped thinking it was charming. Some had even started calling her graceful - in surprised tones behind their hands.
Until this.
Ariel gazed down at her round belly through the bath bubbles and spread her hands over the swell. Something deep in her chest warmed and quivered at once with a mix of delighted awe and a twinge of anxiety. A baby.
A baby.
What did she know about babies? She’d made such terrible mistakes, most of which she’d blamed on her father. Well, yes, her father wanted to do what was best for her. But she hadn’t known that. What if her child hated her? Ariel dragged her fingers through her hair. Eric would be a wonderful father, of course. He was always wonderful. Well… mostly.
Her teeth tugged at her lower lip, and she eyed their bed across the room. Skin tingling from the memories and a liquid pang of longing, she knew she was sulking and just felt more guilty for her discontent. ‘He’s just concerned about the baby,’ she reminded herself. ‘He doesn’t want either of us to get hurt doing something too… strenuous.’
Still, it was very… frustrating.
“I’m not that fragile.” Her eyes dipped down. “Am I? Humans have babies all the time. Surely it would be all right to…” She hugged her ribcage under her breasts, which had also gotten heavy and unwieldy, like her belly, and hypersensitive. She’d been drifting between constant arousal and self-doubt. And the last time Flounder came to visit, he’d wrinkled his rotten yellow nose and said she looked like she was smuggling an octopus under her dress.
Maybe that was why Eric insisted they cease marital contact. Perhaps he didn’t find her attractive anymore, all round like a startled puffer fish.
It wasn’t fair! Why did he get to keep being adorably, kissably Eric while she had to be a… a beached whale!
Ariel caught a glimpse of her frown between the bubbles and lifted her fingers to her overwarm cheeks, painting them with water. Her whole body was too warm, and it wasn’t the water. Bubbles slowly burst in the cooling tub, making her shiver and slide down into the water. Her thighs brushed, sending a current of water over the sensitive flesh between her legs. Another not unpleasant surprise that came with legs. Before, that part of her had been hidden, protected from the intimate touch of water.
With a groan, her legs pressed close together to keep out the sensation. Thinking about it was only going to make her more uncomfortable. Fingers just didn’t make up for an attentive husband. And any amount of hinting or outright suggestion hadn’t brought her husband around, she thought uncharitably.
Pouting wasn’t becoming in a queen, Ariel reminded herself.
But queens were supposed to get whatever they wanted, especially the attentions of their kings! She snatched the soap from the edge of the luxurious bathtub Eric had had installed in their chambers as her wedding gift, and chucked it across the room. It hit the wall beside the door just as it clicked open and a pair of blue eyes blinked at her, startled.
“Eric!” The bath water sloshed as she scrambled onto her knees while holding her belly with one hand, face heating with embarrassment. Even in the water she was clumsy and awkward now. No wonder he’d been so absent in the last weeks.
“Sorry, I’ll leave you alo-“
“No, wait!” The words were out of her mouth before she could think better of them, her hand stretched out. She curled her fingers and hid them under the water, biting her lip. Low in her belly, the warmth grew and tightened. The sight of her husband always made her breathless and achy, and it had been so long. ‘He’s so handsome… I could just ask.’ Her mouth was dry with nerves and wanting. ‘But what if he says no again?’
“Do-“ He cut himself off to clear his throat, and Ariel saw his eyes stray to her bare shoulders and the semi-transparent bubbly bath water before jerking them back up. “Do you need something?”
On impulse, Ariel drifted forward in the water and leaned her forearms on the rim of the tub, lifting herself a little out of the water until her breasts rested against the porcelain, still out of sight, but hinting. She felt a small flare of victory - maybe a little of relief as well - as he struggled to meet her eyes for following the fall of her vibrant hair and the curve of her bare skin. ‘He still wants me. At least a little.’ Determination had her lifting her chin and lounging over the edge of the tub to trail a hand over the wet tile floor.
She leaned up on her other elbow to rest her cheek against it and opened her mouth to speak, and her elbow skidded over the slick rim. She lost her balance and flailed, falling back into the water. She spluttered, buried under a blanket of bubbles.
‘Idiot,’ she thought, closing her eyes and staying hidden in the bubbles. ‘Now he really won’t want you.’
The bubbles were brushed aside, and she lifted her eyes to see Eric leaning over the tub. He touched her cheek, face showing his concern. “Are you okay?”
She nodded and rested her cheek in his palm. Her eyes were wistful as she lifted her fingers to trace them over his jaw.
“I love you,” she told him. His eyes warmed and those dimples showed.
Water lapped at the rim of the tub as she sat up, lifting her face until her lips touched his.
He hesitated for a breathless moment, then his other hand came up to sift into her wet hair as he pulled her closer, lips slanting over hers to deepen the kiss. Sinking into the his touch, head spinning with affection and arousal, she gripped the lapels of his dress jacket and pulled, not caring that the expensive fabric was getting wet. She nibbled on his lower lip, and he made a stifled, desperate sound.
“I love you too,” he said, breaking the kiss, and chuckled on a shaky breath. “But you know we can’t…” his fingers slipped down her neck to her breasts, and Ariel took a fast breath. His hand kept going until his fingers whispered over her belly under the water. Her skin tingled where he stroked, and she shivered, barely hearing him.
He moved away. Her eyes flew open, and she sat up again. He was walking toward the door.
“Eric!” He stopped, looking back in question.
“Um.” Her eyes fell on the soap, sitting on the floor in a puddle of suds. “Would you, uh,” she started slowly, twisting some of her red hair with both hands under the water. “Would you wash my back?”
There were those dimples again, making her feel too warm, melting her.
He took off the dress coat and set it over a chair, pushing the sleeves of his shirt up as he picked up the soap and found a wash cloth. She turned and boosted herself onto the edge of the tub, pulling the heavy mass of her hair over one shoulder.
His knees hit the boards of the floor with a pair muffled thuds, and a strong hand caught strands of hair, tucking them away before the cloth dipped into the water. The wet cloth touching her shoulder made her jump, she was so focused on the brief touch of his fingers. The longing manifested in a fine tremble, which grew over minutes of luxurious swipes of the cloth until her delicate frame was shaking. Finally, Eric stopped and set both hands on her shoulders. Instantly, her shaking stilled.
“What’s wrong?”
The silence stretched between them, too full of everything she’d been wanting to tell him for more than a month. After spending those agonizing, endless days with him when she was unable to speak, it seemed silly to keep quiet about something so important. But what could she say?
“I-I’m sorry I’m like this.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m so…” She made an all-encompassing motion with her hands that implied that she was the size of a medium-sized carriage. Her hands molded over her large belly and her chin tucked in. “You know, clumsy and round.” Her eyes stung and she hunched her shoulders.
And then his palms were on either side of her belly, and he was pulling her back until she was cradled against him, and she leaned her head back on his shoulder.
“Who said you were clumsy?”
She made a noncommittal noise. No one had said she was clumsy, of course. No one would be that rude to the queen, unless they were a little yellow fish with no manners.
“Ariel, no one thinks you’re clumsy.”
“Just fat enough that I have to waddle like a seagull when I walk,” she muttered.
Surrounded by his arms, she could feel his shoulders shake with a suppressed laugh. But to his credit, he didn’t laugh. And he recovered well.
“You’re beautiful.” He lifted a hand to run the back of his fingers over her cheek.
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him why, then, he wouldn’t make love to her. But asking didn’t seem to be getting her anywhere, did it?
But she knew he was susceptible to her charms. Maybe it was time to stop asking and just do.
She turned her head and brushed her lips over his fingers in a whispered kiss. Then she opened her mouth and used the edge of her teeth to scrape his skin, followed by the brush of her tongue. She heard his breath catch and it made her smile. She leaned back, turned his hand so she could nibble the pads of his fingers. His other hand stirred, his thumb caressing over the side of her belly, sending water trickling down to her thighs. She kept teasing his fingers with teeth and lips and tongue as her hand slipped over her shoulder to his neck where her fingers played with the little curls at his nape and her nails teased the shell of his ear. His breath became shallow, cooling the water on her shoulder, and she risked laying her hand over his on her belly and pushing it down the curve of her belly to the red curls at the apex of her thighs.
The tips of his hand halted there for a moment before he groaned and pulled her tight to him, his mouth finding her earlobe with a moist bite and his fingers sank between her legs.
She had him. He wasn’t going to say no this time. Thank God.
She stretched both arms over her head to wrap them around him, arching her back, presenting all of herself, such as she was. His hand slid around to cup the heavy weight of one breast.
Her grateful moan was cut short when he removed both hands, leaving her cold. Oh no… but then he was sliding his forearm under her knees and supporting her back, lifting her, carrying her across the room, over to their bed. He only grunted once at her weight. He really was the perfect husband. She pulled him down with her to the cover as he settled her on the bed.