The sun dipped lower as the stalls began closing one by one. The market lost some of its clamor, merchants packing away their goods, children tugging parents toward home. Victoria walked ahead now, still buzzing with energy despite the pile of bags hanging from Merlin’s arms. She darted into another stall, her voice mixing cheerfully with the shopkeeper’s.
Merlin let out a quiet breath, rolling his shoulders to ease the ache. "She doesn’t run out of energy, does she?"
Elara stood beside him, hands folded loosely behind her back, gaze following Victoria. "She cares. That is its own strength."
Merlin glanced sideways at her. She wasn’t looking at Victoria anymore. Her eyes were on him, violet and sharp, softened only by something he couldn’t quite name.
He felt his throat tighten. "...What?"
Her lips parted, a breath catching as if she had been holding it all this time. For once, Elara Vaelith, the elf who carried herself like nothing in the world could move her, looked... hesitant.
"I..." Her voice was softer than he’d ever heard it. She shifted slightly, silver hair catching the fading light. "Merlin, there is something I should tell you."
His chest constricted. Her tone, her eyes, the faint tremor beneath her calm—it was enough to set his thoughts racing, faster than his heart.
"Elara..." he managed, low.
She stepped a fraction closer, her gaze not breaking from his. "Since the labyrinth, I—"
Victoria’s voice cut through the air like a blade. She burst from the stall, holding a ridiculous floppy hat with a feather sticking out of it. "Look at this! Doesn’t it scream your name?"
Merlin blinked, caught mid-breath, his chest burning with all the words that hadn’t been spoken. Elara straightened instantly, her expression snapping back into practiced calm, though Merlin caught the faintest flicker of frustration in her eyes.
Victoria plopped the hat onto his head before he could stop her. "See? Perfect!"
Merlin pulled it off with a groan. "I look like an idiot."
Victoria smirked. "You always do. This just makes it official."
Elara turned away, covering the faintest curl of her lips with her hand. If Merlin hadn’t been staring, he might’ve missed it.
And for a moment, standing there between the chaos of Victoria’s antics and the silence of Elara’s unspoken words, Merlin felt the weight of something inevitable pressing at the edge of his chest.
Something he wasn’t sure he was ready for.
But when Victoria grabbed his arm and tugged him toward the next shop, Elara followed quietly, her eyes lingering on him as though the words she hadn’t spoken still hung between them.
And Merlin, despite himself, couldn’t stop wondering what they would have been.
By the time they left the market, the city streets had softened with evening light. Lanterns flickered to life one by one, warm glows chasing away the creeping dusk. Merlin carried most of the bags, because, of course, Victoria had insisted on "just a few more things."
When they reached the apartment door, Victoria fumbled with the key. Merlin sighed, dropping the bags by the threshold.
"Do you always buy the whole market when you go shopping?" he muttered. Chapters first released on novel{f}ire.net
"Correction," Victoria said, swinging the door open with a grin. "I bought what we needed. And also what you didn’t know you needed."
Merlin was about to argue when he noticed Elara had followed them all the way up. She lingered in the hall, her posture calm but her eyes, always so poised, held a question, like she was testing boundaries.
"...You’re coming in?" Merlin asked, tilting his head.
Elara’s lips parted, then closed again. After a beat, she gave a small nod. "If I am not imposing."
Victoria brightened instantly. "Of course not! You’ve never seen the place before, have you? Come on in!"
Merlin gave his sister a look. She was too enthusiastic. But he didn’t stop her.
Inside, the apartment was small, lived-in. Books stacked on shelves, a kettle still sitting on the counter, a couch that had seen better days. It wasn’t much, but it was theirs.
Elara’s gaze drifted around the space, taking in every detail as if memorizing it. She stepped closer to the window, where the last strands of sunlight cut across the floor. "...It is... warm," she said finally.
Merlin blinked. For Elara, that was practically a full speech of approval.
Victoria was already in the kitchen, unloading bags. "Sit, sit! Merlin, make tea or something, don’t just stand there like a scarecrow."
Merlin grumbled, but he set water to boil. Elara sat on the couch, her silver hair catching the fading light. She looked strangely at ease here, more than in the academy halls.
As the tea steeped, silence stretched. Victoria hummed in the kitchen, rustling through groceries, leaving Merlin and Elara alone in the small living room.
Merlin sat across from her, resting his hands on his knees. For once, he didn’t know what to say. He just... watched her.
"Elara," he said finally, the name heavy on his tongue.
She met his gaze. Her eyes softened, just slightly. Then, like before in the market, she leaned forward, her voice lower, less guarded. "...Merlin, there is really something I want you to—"
Victoria burst in with a tray, two steaming cups clinking dangerously as she set them down. "I found the cookies I bought earlier. We’re celebrating, by the way. You survived shopping with me!"
Merlin dragged a hand down his face. "You’re impossible."
Elara leaned back again, the moment gone, her calm mask sliding back into place. Only the faintest twitch of her fingers on her lap betrayed her irritation.
Victoria flopped beside Merlin on the couch, nudging him with her elbow. "You should thank me, little brother. Without me, your life would be boring."
Merlin gave a dry laugh. "Oh, trust me. It’s not boring."
His eyes flicked once toward Elara. She was sipping tea now, poised, silent. But when her gaze met his over the rim of the cup, something unspoken sparked there.
Something Victoria, in all her loud cheer, never noticed.
The night deepened around the small apartment, the city outside alive with distant chatter and the flicker of carriage lamps. Inside, the warmth of dinner lingered, Victoria had whipped up something quick but filling, and now the plates sat stacked in the sink.
Elara stood by the window, her silhouette carved by silver moonlight, violet eyes fixed on the streets below. She hadn’t said much after tea, but her presence filled the room in a way Merlin couldn’t ignore.
Victoria yawned loudly from the couch, stretching her arms above her head. "Ugh... too much food. I’m going to roll off the couch in my sleep at this rate."
Merlin shot her a look. "Then maybe don’t eat enough for three people."
"Excuse me," Victoria said, pointing a spoon at him like a weapon. "I am celebrating. You’re alive, you’re walking, and you didn’t collapse in the market. That calls for extra food."
Merlin muttered something about her logic being questionable, but his attention slipped back to Elara. She hadn’t moved, her gaze still beyond the glass.
When Victoria finally gathered herself, she announced, "Alright, I’m off to bed. Big day tomorrow, have to clean the rest of these groceries away, and unlike someone, I don’t have the stamina of a rock."
Merlin raised a brow. "That’s... not how stamina works."
Victoria waved him off, already halfway to her room. "Don’t stay up too late! And don’t make a mess!"
Her door shut with a quiet thud, leaving the apartment in a hushed calm.
Elara turned then, her expression unreadable as her eyes locked on Merlin. "...I will stay here tonight."
The words landed heavy, almost too casual for their weight.
Merlin blinked. "...What?"
Elara stepped closer, moonlight trailing across her silver hair. "It is late. The streets are not unsafe, but unnecessary risks are... unnecessary." Her tone was cool, logical. But her fingers brushed her own sleeve, a rare nervous tell.
Merlin’s heart thudded once, sharp. He tried for humor. "...You, afraid of walking home? That’s new."
Her eyes narrowed faintly. "Not fear. Prudence."
"...Right," Merlin said softly, though he wasn’t convinced.
She moved toward the couch, graceful even in something so mundane. Her presence seemed to shrink the small living room, filling it with something unspoken.
Merlin rubbed the back of his neck. "There’s only the couch. Unless you want me to—"
"I will take the couch," she interrupted smoothly.
He hesitated, watching her settle at the edge of the cushions like she belonged there. She didn’t fidget, didn’t falter. Yet something about the picture, Elara, proud elf, always untouchable, sitting in their humble apartment’s couch, it tugged at him.
"...Alright," he said finally.
Silence followed, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. The city’s hum seeped faintly through the walls, mingling with the rhythm of their breaths.
Merlin leaned against the wall, arms crossed loosely. His voice was quieter when he spoke again. "...You really don’t have to stay."
Elara’s gaze lifted to him, calm but firm. "...I want to."
The honesty in it startled him more than anything.
His throat tightened. Words tangled in his chest, things he couldn’t say, about how much her presence steadied him, about how he felt less like a ghost when she was near. But he swallowed them back.
Instead, he just nodded. "...Then stay."
Elara inclined her head, almost imperceptibly, but her eyes lingered on him a moment longer than usual before she leaned back against the couch cushions.
The room quieted again. Merlin shifted, unsure what to do with his own hands, with the way the air thickened between them. He finally sat, a little distance away, and for a long time they simply... existed.
The silence spoke louder than words.
Outside, the moon hung low.