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Oh my Disney always got busier around the holidays, with both ever-changing celebrations and premiere season bringing new films and characters. Ariel had been around for more than two decades now, and the Mouse had long settled into a routine for its yearly tide of theatrical releases.
Princesses almost always entered the stage at the end of November, and this year they’d be welcoming two from the kingdom of Arendelle. Or was it Queendom? She’d heard so much talk, but nobody, not even cast members, knew what would become of the four leading humans entering their realm from Frozen. Ariel would have to wait and see tomorrow, and today she could only re-enter the bustle of Oh My Disney itself.
She slung a bulging backpack over her shoulder, and clung to several shopping bags from FOX, watching the crowds flow like water through archways and into orderly lines. For all the crowds this season grew, Mickey’s crew always had security volunteers ready to efficiently screen both guests and cast, whether they were leading a wagon, land horses, dragons, or even chariots emblazoned with golden birds. Ariel couldn’t help admiring that sort of effort.
Or she’d admire it more if she wasn’t carrying contraband.
The first screening took the broadest swath of the crowd, funneling them into several archways to scan for any items villainous or unapproved. She followed a line forming across one of the far archways, and as she passed beneath, it gave her a disapproving DING.
Ariel sighed, watching throngs of other humans file directly into the promenade after clearing this initial screening that she could not, and so dutifully followed the S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent to the extra security line, a manual bag check performed by volunteers. Of course she always considered each layer of screening she’d have to sneak things through, but had grown savvy enough that most days it was none at all.
Oh, right, Ariel remembered. Probably that rainbow umbrella she’d bought from that space mechanic over at FOX. At least Ariel hoped it was the umbrella that sent her into the extra security line and not the other things said space mechanic had recommended for her. The Mouse accepted many devices beyond its doors, but certainly not those that belonged betwixt your nethers and ran on batteries. Ariel knew what about half of that meant, but enough to understand the art of concealing her human treasures from the wrong pairs of eyes.
Disney had been trying out various Marvel cast in their security for years now, but on days like this Ariel recognized several other volunteers helping out for the crowded season. Her stomach sank, enjoying her odds even less with every face she recognized.
First, a blue bird berating a displeased-looking Merida for her lack of American merchandise. Then a cricket as thorough as his expression guilt-inducing. Next, a white land-horse with a permanent suspicious scowl on his face and a love for apples (which, regrettably, Ariel forgot to bring today). She scanned over several human guards bearing Corona’s crest, a handsome royal navy uniform, and a mouse with a snarfblatt and bigamajigger until–oh, no.
Ariel peered over the crowd and realized her eyes weren’t deceiving her, and she recognized exactly who occupied the security canal on the far end of the line.
Her father? Oh, that was just not fair.
Ariel fidgeted in place, debating on “forgetting” something and leaving the line entirely. But even cast members couldn’t enter without some sort of screening and she’d already been squeezed behind a colony of well-dressed penguins. She sighed, blowing her bangs out of her face, when she heard sniffing behind her and velvety nose rested on her shoulder.
“Oh, I am so sorry. My horse–”
Ariel turned towards the voice, which belonged to a red-headed human who hastily pulled back on his land-horse’s lead. The creature, who didn’t look the least bit sorry, had fur the color of beach sand and the most fascinating bicolored mane just like an orca.
“You don’t have to apologize for something like that.” Ariel smiled, reaching out to stroke the horse’s velvety nose. She giggled. “Hello there, sweetie.”
The stranger breathed out in relief. “That’s Sitron. He likes you.”
“Good. I like him, too.” Ariel ran her hand from forelock to whiskers, smiling as the horse leaned into her touch, and just before she opened her mouth to ask the human’s name, she remembered where she’d seen him before. “Oh! You’re from the premiere tomorrow, aren’t you?”
“I am. Prince Hans of the Southern Isles.” He bowed after a pause.
“Princess Ariel of Atlantica, but you can just call me Ariel.”
The cast line had an entire colony of penguins to process, so neither of them were moving any time soon. A S.H.I.E.L.D. agent clad in sunglasses began to pace up the line to check paperwork ahead of time, answering questions in the best penguin-charade she could offer. Ariel almost forgot to dig her own out of her pocket, and flashed the blue ID card as she walked by.
“Water clearance, Your Highness? You can head right over–we’ll get you through faster. No penguins ruining their bowties today.”
Ariel winced. “Oh–uh, actually, Miss…” she peeked down at the woman’s name tag. “Miss Hill, but that’s my father over there. Don’t wanna seem like we’re playing favorites, right?”
After a beat of suspicious silence, the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent held a couple fingers to her ear, listening for something, and then nodded. “Fair enough. It’ll be a few minutes, though.”
She’d need every one of those minutes to plan. “That’s okay. Thank you, Miss Hill!”
The poor prince behind her had to take a little longer to pre-process, as he had all his first-time paperwork with him. Folders and folders of papers and multicolored notes! Back when she’d been inducted, Ariel hardly remembered carrying any documents at all. But when a kingdom grew, so did its paperwork (at least according to Grimsby). She supposed Disney was no exception.
His land horse carried bags so neatly-fastened and stacked on the saddle that Ariel thought to ask Hans if he’d ever been on a ship. Eric would love that, and she’d probably never hear the end of it. Her husband could use another sailor to talk to, as so few were admitted into the Prince spaces and so many others were pirates.
By the time Maria Hill had moved further back in the line, Sitron pawed at the pavement, restlessly swishing his tail. Though a scratch behind the ears from Hans seemed to soothe him.
Hans struck conversation while the crowd droned around them. “So, Your Highness, is that merman really your father?”
“Ariel. And yes, that’s him.”
His voice grew quieter, and he raised an almost conspiratorial brow. “And you weren’t just saying that to get another screener?”
Oh, he was good. Even Aladdin wasn’t always so perceptive.
“Well, he is my father,” Ariel muttered. “Have you got any apples?”
“I do. Why?”
She looked at the shrinking number of penguins in front of them, eyeing the headcount with the order of screeners to whom they were guided. “Maximus should be yours. He loves them.”
“Does he? I’ll keep that in mind.”
The line of penguins in front of them reduced, one by one, until exactly who Ariel expected waved her over. James Norrington, whom she’d known for nearly a decade. She approached with a smile, while her father shot her a suspicious look from the canals on the far side of the entryway.
She mouthed “Hi, Daddy!” with a joyful wave, as if she wasn’t smuggling contraband.
“Jaamie , I didn’t know you were volunteering today!” Ariel placed her backpack on the table, with the other bags on either side.
James smiled fondly, even if only with a flicker of emotion through the stern veneer. Eric always said this was a ‘British thing,’ whatever that meant. All Ariel knew was that the Commodore was thorough and she didn’t have a certain pirate around to distract him this time.
“Yes, well, one can’t be too cautious this close to a premiere, and Sparrow has been about smuggling unauthorized copies of Game of Thrones. Anything to declare, Your Highness?”
Certainly not the paintings of her husband or the boots–and not the kind that went on human feet. More like the less-than-legal films of Broadway shows the Princess crew liked to watch over popcorn. And definitely not any gizmos from her shopping trip with the space mechanic. No, Ariel only had one thing to declare.
“We’ve missed you.”
Ariel spoke for herself and her husband, and though she was trying to get through this screening without a scolding, she spoke the truth of her affection.
This brought a genuine smile to his face that remained a little longer than the last, though James kept as systematic a search as he always did with anyone. Ariel cursed that sailor-attention to detail.
“Seems like we’re getting another sailor for you to talk to,” Ariel said as James ran his hand over a thin compartment sewn into the backpack just thick enough for a few scandalous prints. Cinderella’s mice took care of that one. She looked over at Hans, whose papers were now spread beneath the hooves of a suspicious-looking Maximus, who stared in equal probing measure at both human and land-horse.
“Yes, well,” James watched with her until the moment Hans offered Sitron an apple, with a spare for Maximus. “Better a Prince than more pirates. At least His Highness knew to prove that wasn’t poisoned.”
Ariel held her breath until his thumb grazed over the hidden compartment and to the rest of the bags. “What are your plans for the premiere, anyway?”
“Is that an invitation?” James didn’t look up from his work, and Ariel found herself chewing on her lip as he made his meticulous way through several of her bags.
“It could be, if you wanted. Dinner at Tony’s?”
“--ah, there it is.”
Ariel barely held back a groan, at least until she realized the object James had pulled out was the handy human device to shield sun and rain. Ariel didn’t mind soaking in either, but she had to admit they were handy for tricking security scanners.
“It’s always those silly human things, isn’t it?”
“Most likely. Off you go, Your Highness. Do tell Eric it’ll be a table for three tomorrow.”
Ariel gathered her bags back in her arms, nether-betwixters undisturbed, and offered James a wave as if nothing had happened. “Oh, I will. Enjoy yourself, Jamie!”
Ariel passed under the archways welcoming her back home to the grand promenade, watching the guests pour into towering, multicolored pavilions. She’d be slipping off into the cast area soon enough, but leaned on the archway wall to watch for a faraway Hans picking up his papers and leaving Maximus behind. She waved him over and he followed, picking up to a jog as if she’d been about to leave him behind.
“Oh–” Hans stopped abruptly in front of her, Sitron stopping short of running headfirst into him. “I didn’t think you’d wait for me.”
“And why wouldn’t I?” Ariel walked with him towards the cast pavilion, out of the way of the filtering crowds.
“Well, if it’s my story you’re looking for, I’m afraid you’re not going to find that. Not from me or either…” Hans paused, carefully considering his words, “princess joining you today. My NDA is as magic as theirs.”
A golden contract unfurled in front of the three of them, complete with the fishbone pen still dripping with ink. This startled Hans enough to bump into Sitron, so Ariel waved it away.
“Lawyers. Ooh, don’t you just love ‘em?” Ariel’s voice lilted with sarcasm. “I know you can’t tell. That’s fine. You’re on the way, and your locker room is a little hard to find.”
Ariel couldn’t yet tell how perceptive Hans would turn out to be, but Sitron looked at her and snorted the way a human might have if they were trying not to laugh. She shot the landhorse a look she often gave Flounder if he couldn’t keep a secret, and led both him and Hans out of the bustling promenade and into the relative quiet beyond the archway labeled ‘Cast Members Only.’
If Hans noticed this, he didn’t mention it, continuing as if nothing had happened. “Fair enough. But at least let me take your bags. I’ll give them to the horse, but he likes to show off.”
True to Hans’s word, Sitron beamed, and Ariel took his offer and handed him the shopping bags, which Hans strapped to the last exposed bit of saddle left before they both continued beyond the crowds of guests.
Where Oh My Disney’s multicolored lights brightened the main entrance at all hours, the entrance to all cast quarters favored the sound of wind and birds. She and almost every new arrival questioned how these rolling pastures could fit so closely inside such a densely-packed corner of the internet, but Mary Poppins had long-since borrowed some tricks from the BBC. It was bigger on the inside.
They followed the path to the main stables, flanked on either side by pasture with herds of multicolored steeds of all sizes. Inside the barn, with all equine occupants away to graze, both footsteps and hoofsteps echoed all the way to the high, sunny ceilings. They passed row upon row of immaculate, spacious stalls, each decorated with the name of its resident from Snowball to Samson.
“Is the locker room hard to find because we’re next to the stables?” Hans asked, his expression increasingly skeptical as they passed each labeled stall, looking for Sitron’s nameplate.
Ariel winced. “Because you’re… in the stables.”
Sitron’s ears shot up, but where the land-horse barely contained a squeal, Hans’s face fell, as much as he tried to hide his disappointment.
They had arrived to the last row of stalls, with the freshest nameplate reading Sitron , and a fresh pile of hay in the stall rack just for him. Beyond the last stall, a sign hung from the ceiling that read Princes with an arrow pointing to the adjoining hallway.
“Yeah, the first few princes to join us had horses, so the location stuck. Nowadays, though, everyone’s a little different. I think Eric calls it…roguish? You’ll be in good company–or at least I think you will.”
Hans considered her, taking perhaps a moment too long. “What do you mean, you think?”
“Your horse is good at keeping secrets, especially from the best security officer on four legs. And so are you.”
Sitron, with a mouthful of hay, spat it all out at once.
Hans did well at keeping his own body language subtle, only pausing for a moment to consider his reply. “I beg your pardon, but you’ll have to explain yourself.”
“That’s for you to do,” Ariel rebutted. “What did you smuggle in here, anyway?”
“That’s for you to wonder, Princess. I am good at keeping secrets.”
“Are you?” Ariel slipped a card out of the pocket of her shorts. It was a cast ID, freshly printed, with a golden band across the bottom simply reading Prince. She read it aloud to him, “Prince, and only Prince, Hans of the Southern Isles.”
“Where did you get that?”
Ariel bit her lip through a smirk. “I’m a princess, but that’s not all of me.”
She peeled off the golden band, which was really just golden tape, revealing a label for Prince, Sailor, and another colored in a venomous, glowing green.
Villain.
She handed the ID back to him, and he took it and slid it inside Sitron’s saddlebag before she continued.
“I like human stuff, Your Highness, but the Mouse doesn’t appreciate…everything we bring back. If you’d rather take over a kingdom, you’ll just get to meet my husband’s harpoon. Why not use those secret-keeping powers of yours to make some new friends?”
“What kind of friends?”
“Oh, plenty. You’ll see. Think about it at least--we have fun here.” She untied her bags from Sitron’s saddle, taking each one before turning to leave. “And we’ll see you tomorrow, won’t we?”
Ariel stopped, waiting for a reply, but when she heard none, she added as she left, “Tell my Aunt Ursula Eric says hello.”