The restaurant had grown quiet around them. It wasn't a hollow silence, but the comfortable lull between courses, when forks rest on plates and conversation softens. The candle on their table had burned down to a stub. Its flame guttered in a shallow pool of melted wax, casting long flickering shadows across the checkered cloth.
Nimue set her fork down with a soft clink of metal against ceramic. She looked across the table at Fleur, who was wiping her mouth with a napkin. The older girl's movements were unhurried and precise. She moved with a natural grace that Nimue couldn't stop watching.
"Grande sœur."
Fleur looked up at the sound of the name, her sea-blue eyes reflecting the fading candlelight.
"On peut jouer encore? Demain?"
(Big sister. Can we play again? Tomorrow?)
Fleur glanced at her aunt, Margaux, who was leaning her chin on her hand and watching the exchange with raised eyebrows. Margaux shifted her gaze toward Jane.
Jane pulled a small notebook from her coat pocket. She tore out a single page, scribbled something quickly, and held it out to Margaux.
"C'est l'adresse. Elle peut venir si elle veut."
(It's the address. She can come if she wants.)
Margaux took the paper, glanced at the handwriting, and tucked it into her pocket. She looked back at Fleur. "Tu as entendu?"
(You heard?)
Fleur nodded, her blue eyes moving back to Nimue. "Demain."
Nimue turned on her heel, her white hair shifting over her shoulders. She reached up and wrapped her arms firmly around Fleur's waist. She pressed her face into Fleur's thick grey wool coat, the texture scratchy against her cheek, and held on tight. She breathed in the winter chill and the faint floral perfume lingering in the heavy fibers, her small hands bunching the fabric into messy folds.
Fleur went still for a moment. Her hands hovered in the air before she rested them on Nimue's shoulders. She patted the girl's back once, then twice, stiffly.
Nimue pulled back. She patted Fleur's hand, the same way she patted Cinder when she wanted the fox to know something was settled. Satisfied, she turned and walked back to her family.
When they reached the door, Nimue looked over her shoulder one last time. Fleur was still sitting at the table, watching her. Nimue raised her hand and waved. After a moment, Fleur raised hers in return.
. . .
The apartment door clicked shut behind them, sealing out the winter chill.
Cinder was there before Nimue could take off her coat. He shot out of the sitting room, his russet fur a blur, claws skidding on the parquet floor as he crashed into her legs. His tail whipped back and forth with frantic energy. His ears were flat against his head, and he made a high-pitched sound somewhere between a whine and a squeak, his amber eyes bright with relief.
Nimue crouched down and let him climb into her lap. He pressed his nose against her chin, her cheek, her ear. She patted his head and stroked his back. Her fingers trailed down to the base of his tail.
"I'm back," she said softly.
He whined again, nuzzling into her neck.
Jane pulled her coat off and hung it on the hook by the door. Jack disappeared into the kitchen, where the sound of the kettle clicking on followed. Saoirse dropped onto the sofa, kicked her shoes off, and stretched her legs out with a weary groan.
Jane crouched in front of Nimue, her green eyes level with her daughter's.
"Morwenna."
The girl looked up from Cinder, her expression open and curious.
"Where did you learn that? The 'be mine' thing?"
Nimue tilted her head. She looked at Jack standing in the kitchen doorway, then at Saoirse on the sofa. Her brow furrowed as she tried to remember. Her hand stilled on Cinder's fur. She tried to remember where the words had come from. They had spilled out before she could think, and they felt entirely right in the moment.
Jane kept her voice soft and encouraging. "You aren't in trouble. Just tell me."
Nimue looked at the floor, where the wood grain looked pale in the dim hallway light. She thought about the stories her father told. They were the ones about the library and the woman with red hair who laughed at him.
She looked back up at her mother. "Papa said when he wanted Mama, he asked."
Jane's hands stilled on her knees.
"Papa said Mama laughed at him three times," Nimue continued. "But he asked again and again. And then Mama said yes."
Nimue looked at Jack. He had stopped moving entirely. His coat hung open, and his face had gone blank in the way it always did when he was thinking very hard.
"So if I want something," Nimue said, "I should say it first. Before someone else takes it."
Saoirse sat up on the sofa and walked over to crouch beside Jane. She looked Nimue in the eye. "That's for things, little monster. Not people. People have minds and they can talk. You have to ask them first, otherwise it's rude."
Nimue frowned. "I asked Fleur. I said 'can you be mine?' I didn't just take her."
Saoirse nodded slowly. "You did, and that's good. But you asked if she could be yours. You didn't ask if she wanted to."
Nimue looked down at her hands, which were still pink from the cold. She thought about Fleur's face at the table and the way she had looked back.
"I asked Fleur. She didn't say no."
Saoirse opened her mouth to argue, but then she closed it again, at a loss.
"If I didn't ask," Nimue said, "I would feel uncomfortable. The feeling would stay here." She pressed a small hand to her chest. "And it wouldn't go away."
Jane took a deep breath, held it, and then let it out slowly. She put her hand on Nimue's shoulder. "Why do you want her?"
Nimue blinked, as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. It was the only thing on her mind since seeing Fleur at the market.
"Because big sister is so beautiful. I like it." She paused, tilting her head again. "So if I like it, shouldn't it be mine? But I can't just take her away, so I asked."
Jane closed her eyes, her hand remaining heavy on Nimue's shoulder. Nimue watched her mother's face, saw the way the skin around her mouth tightened and her jaw moved as if she were chewing on her words.
Jane pressed two fingers against her temple and took several long, measured breaths. "Morwenna."
"Yes, Mama."
"Go to the bathroom first and wash your hands. I will come in a few minutes."
Nimue nodded. She set Cinder down, stood up, and walked toward the hallway.
Three steps in, her spine went cold.
She didn't know what caused it. The air didn't change and the lights didn't flicker, but something behind her felt suddenly dangerous. Her arm hair stood up, and a cold ripple ran down her back that had nothing to do with her magic.
She walked faster, her boots loud on the parquet. She didn't look back. When she reached the bathroom, she closed the door quickly. The click of the latch felt very loud in the small space. She pressed her back against the wood and waited for her heartbeat to slow.
. . .
The morning light through the apartment windows was thin and grey. Paris had pulled its usual December sky over itself like a heavy blanket, leaving the clouds low and the sun nowhere to be seen. In the corner, the radiator hissed and clanked. Outside, a truck reversed somewhere in the courtyard. Its beeping was muffled by the double-glazed glass.
Nimue had finished breakfast twenty minutes ago. She had eaten her bread and drunk her milk, sitting patiently at the table until Jane told her she could get down. Now, she was on the sofa, fidgety.
She lay on her back, then her stomach, and then her back again. Her legs hung over the armrest for a moment before she pulled them back and swung them over the other side. She turned left, then right, making the cushions squeak under her weight.
Cinder watched from the rug, his ears following her every movement. His head went left, then right, then left again.
"Mama."
Jane was at the kitchen counter, wiping it down with a cloth. "Yes."
"When will she come?"
"I don't know."
Nimue flopped onto her stomach, pressing her cheek into the cushion. Her eyes stayed wide open, staring at the window and the empty, grey sky.
"What if she comes and I am not here?"
"You are here, Nimue."
"But what if I go outside and she comes while I am outside?"
Jane set the cloth down and turned to look at her daughter. Nimue had rolled onto her back again with her arms spread wide and her legs dangling over the armrest. Her eyes looked hollow, as if someone had taken something out of them and forgotten to put it back.
"Morwenna."
"Mama."
"You are squirming like a worm."
Nimue didn't answer. She turned onto her side, then her stomach, then her back again. Her white hair spread across the cushion in tangled strands, and her eyes stayed fixed on the ceiling.
Jane pressed her fingers against her temple. The throb in her head had started since last night and hadn't stopped since. She watched her daughter flip again, making the sofa springs groan.
She knew that children experienced puppy love. She had thought she would have years before she had to deal with such a thing. Her daughter was only four.
Nimue rolled onto her stomach once more, her legs kicking the armrest.
"It seems she really loves beauty," Jane thought. "I never imagined she would have this kind of quirk. I really should bring her to the Veela community to open her world and drill some sense into her about this."
Jane sighed.
Nimue flopped onto her back with her arms out. She looked like a starfish that had been left in the sun for too long.
"The lineage traits that have already appeared are the basilisk patience, and now this. The dragon thing," Jane mused. "A love of beauty, and potentially a desire for many partners as well."
Jane pressed her fingers harder against her temple. "It's been a long time since the last LeFay with this trait."
She sighed again, the sound coming from deep in her chest.
The bedroom door opened and Jack stepped out. His hair was still damp from the shower and his shirt was untucked. He was reaching for a button when Jane's glare hit him. He stopped immediately, his hand hovering over his collar.
"What?"
Jane didn't answer. She just looked at him with an expression that said everything. "You. You did this. You told her that story and taught her that wanting something meant claiming it."
Jack's hand dropped. He looked at Nimue on the sofa, who was now hanging upside down. Her white hair brushed the floor and her eyes were still glassy and empty. He looked back at Jane.
"I didn't teach her that."
"You told her the story."
"I told her the story of how we met. That's different."
Nimue flipped again, and the sofa squeaked in protest.
Jane turned back to the counter and picked up the cloth. She began wiping the same spot she had already cleaned three times.
. . .
The afternoon light had shifted toward a pale gold when the doorbell rang.
Nimue was off the sofa before the sound had even finished echoing. Cinder scrambled out of her way, his russet fur bristling as his claws skidded on the parquet. He retreated under the dining table.
Jane opened the door.
Fleur stood in the hallway wearing her grey coat. Her hair was loose, falling over her shoulders and catching the thin winter light from the stairwell window. Behind her, Margaux leaned against the wall with her arms crossed.
"Bonjour," Fleur said.
"Bonjour," Jane replied, stepping back to let them in. "Entrez."
Fleur stepped inside. Her boots were black leather and laced up the front, the toes scuffed from walking. She looked around the apartment, taking in the small kitchen, the sagging sofa, and the window overlooking the courtyard where laundry hung frozen on a line.
Her eyes found Nimue.
Nimue stood in the middle of the sitting room. Her white hair was tangled and her shirt had a small stain from breakfast. She hadn't changed or brushed her hair. She had been waiting.
"Grande sœur."
"Nimue."
Fleur's mouth curved into a small, rare smile.
===
Okay, I want to address something. I'm not sure what to call it… writing style? Pace? Format? Not really sure about the exact term, but it's about how the flow continues from one chapter to the next.
Like I said before, I read a lot of Chinese web novels, and more or less, it influenced me. At first I wanted to use that "continuous flow" style you often see in Chinese web novels, but keeping that up consistently is hard for me. So there might be some chapters with a "clean break" here and there.
Sorry about that!
One chapter might be continuous flow, the next might have a clean break, then you'll see continuous flow again. I'm really sorry if that messes with your reading rhythm.
Also, I already put the character images in the "Pictures" chapter under the chapter comments. So you can look at them directly in the comment section, beside on the paragraph comments.
And a big shout out to Arc4203 for subscribing to my Patreon! Your financial support is like extra fuel that makes my drive for writing this fic burn even hotter
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