Cecilia woke up to sunlight, the shadows of birds sweeping across her window as they chirped somewhere outside. For a moment, she fixed her gaze upon the unfamiliar ceiling above her. It took several seconds for her mind to register that this wasn't her bedroom. The wooden beams. The unfamiliar curtains. The faint scent of herbs lingering in the air. She had wished that everything that happened yesterday had been nothing more than a nightmare. Cecilia closed her eyes and let out a long, heavy sigh.
Unfortunately, she was still in Alfheim. She slowly raised her hand, letting the morning sunlight greet her fingers. The Red Strings of Fate. Despite being invisible she could still feel the sharpness of the string around her ring finger. It sounded romantic. At least, that was what she imagined it was supposed to be. But in her case? It's a total nightmare. Emma. An assassin. While only looking dangerously hot and managing that every possible opportunity was irritating.
Cecilia lowered her hand. She had known that woman for barely a day. And somehow, that had already been long enough to test her patience. With a stretch, Cecilia finally dragged herself out of bed. Her feet touched the cold wooden floor, and she immediately regretted getting up. "Why is it so cold?"
She peeked toward the window. The sunlight streaming through the curtains suggested otherwise. With another sigh, she reached for the clothes Margaret had prepared for her the night before. Before leaving the room, something on the small table beside the bed caught her attention.
Her toiletries had been neatly arranged there–her toothbrush, toothpaste, face towel, and everything else she needed for the morning. Cecilia blinked, examining the tidy arrangement for a moment. "Well… Margaret really does think of everything."
She gathered what she needed and stepped out of the room. The bathroom was across the hall. She slipped inside and closed the door behind her. For the first time since waking, she had a moment alone that could simply be mundane.
She turned toward the mirror. The reflection staring back at her looked surprisingly well rested. Everything she had been through yesterday must have taken a great toll on her. The moment her head had fallen onto the comfort of the pillow, she was out like a light.
After everything that happened, she had expected to wake up exhausted, but somehow, she felt refreshed. She placed her toiletries beside the sink and turned on the tap. After splashing some cool water onto her face, she reached for her toothbrush and began brushing her teeth, observing her reflection in the mirror with a blank expression.
Her hair was a mess from sleep. She rinsed her mouth and washed her face properly before grabbing her towel. She dried her face, then ran her fingers through her hair, trying to tame the few strands that refused to cooperate.
Once she finished, Cecilia gathered her toiletries and stepped back into the bedroom. She stopped. A dress had been neatly laid across the end of the bed. Cecilia walked over and picked it up. It was a beautiful baby-blue summer dress that fell all the way to her feet. It had thin noodle straps with delicate lace trimming edges, a tiny white ribbon tied just beneath the chest.. The fabric was soft and light, making it look incredibly comfortable. She held it against herself and inspected her reflection once more.
"Is this mine?" Cecilia examined the dress. It looked a little too big. Still, it was much better than wearing yesterday's clothes. She slipped the dress over her head. The soft fabric settled against her body. Cecilia reached up to adjust one of the straps. Then she froze.
The dress moved!
She slowly glanced down. The fabric around her waist gently tightened. The straps adjusted themselves. Even the length of the dress lifted slightly, stopping just above the floor so that it no longer dragged against her feet. Cecilia gasped in surprise. She turned to the mirror. The dress fit her perfectly. She blinked. "...Did you just adjust yourself?"
The dress, of course, remained completely silent. "Right." She said, realizing how dumb she sounded. "It's just a magic dress that does not talk."
She gave herself one last look in the mirror before leaving the room.
She made her way downstairs, following the faint sounds of conversation coming from below. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she spotted Margaret behind the counter, speaking with a customer.
From behind, the woman looked almost human. Almost.
A crystallized, glistening blue, webbed ear peeked from the top of her head, catching the sunlight that streamed through the windows. Her dark hair fell beautifully down her back, glossy and smooth, while her skin seemed to shimmer softly beneath the morning light.
Cecilia stood transfixed for a moment. The woman looked like she could have walked straight off a magazine cover. Margaret picked up a small glass jar from the counter and handed it to the woman. "You'll want to apply a thin layer of this ointment around the edges of the webbing twice a day," Margaret explained. "Especially after bathing. It should help with the dryness."
The woman carefully took the jar, her fingers accidentally brushing against Margaret's palm. She froze for half a second. "Twice a day?" she confirmed.
Margaret nodded. "Twice a day."
The woman slipped the jar into her bag and turned toward the door. Margaret glanced toward Cecilia. "Good morning, Cecilia."
"Good morning."
"Breakfast is already at the dining table. Go ahead and help yourself."
At the sound, she turned her attention toward the staircase. Emma appeared at the top of the stairs. She wore nothing more than a dark tank top and a pair of jeans. Her stormy grey eyes were calm, her expression unreadable and her dark hair remained perfectly in place. She still looked beautifully dangerous without even trying. The woman, who had been reaching for the door, paused. Her eyes drifted toward Emma. And stayed there. Cecilia caught the interaction.
The woman seemed utterly spellbound. Emma descended the stairs without paying her any attention. As she reached the bottom, Margaret looked over. "Good morning, Emma."
Emma's expression softened into a small smile. "Good morning, Margaret."
The mermaid was still standing near the door, keeping her eyes fixed on Emma. There was nothing particularly unusual about what Emma was wearing. No weapons. No elaborate clothing. Nothing that should have commanded attention. And yet her presence seemed to fill the room. The woman's cheeks slowly turned pink. Cecilia tracked the stranger's blush, then shifted her gaze to Emma before taking in the scene as a whole. …What is happening?
Emma finally noticed the woman standing near the door. Their eyes met for a brief moment. The woman immediately looked away, her face turning even redder. Emma simply raised an eyebrow, seemingly unaware of what she'd done. She walked toward the dining table and took the seat opposite of Cecilia.
The woman seemed to finally remember that she was standing in the middle of the shop. She cleared her throat softly. "Thank you again, Margaret."
Margaret smiled. "You're welcome. Take care."
The woman nodded before stepping outside. The door closed behind her. Cecilia tracked her exit before turning back toward Margaret. "So who was she?"
Margaret returned to the counter and began putting a few things away. "That was a mermaid."
It made sense, considering the woman's webbed ears. But the crystalline structure of them had been so beautiful, almost as if they had been carved from blue gemstones. "Are all mermaids that beautiful?"
Margaret laughed softly. "Mermaids do have the ability to charm anyone with their looks, regardless of gender."
Cecilia raised an eyebrow. "Anyone?"
Margaret nodded. "Anyone."
Cecilia glanced toward the door again. That explains a lot.
Margaret gestured toward the dining table. "Now, go ahead and eat before your breakfast gets cold." Cecilia nodded and turned back toward her plate. She picked up her fork and took a bite. The food was warm and comforting. For a moment, she simply sat there, eating in silence.
Then Margaret spoke again. "Once you both finish breakfast, I'd like to talk to you."
Cecilia tilted her head. "About what?"
Margaret's expression remained calm. "There are a few things we need to discuss." Cecilia exchanged a glance with Emma. Emma merely continued eating, though Cecilia could tell she was listening.
Cecilia nodded slowly. "Okay." She turned back to her breakfast. The food was warm and comforting. For a moment, she simply sat there, eating in silence. Then the familiar ache settled quietly in her chest. Home.
She thought of her uncle. She could almost picture him walking through the front door after another long shift at the hospital, still wearing his work clothes, looking exhausted but somehow always finding the energy to ask her the same question. Have you eaten yet? Cecilia swallowed. She missed that.She missed him.More than she had allowed herself to admit. Her focus dropped to her plate. The food suddenly became blurry. She blinked quickly. But it was too late. A tear slipped down her cheek.
Emma caught the movement. Her fork stopped halfway to her mouth. She kept her eyes pinned to Cecilia. Something strange stirred in her chest. It was an unfamiliar sensation–tight, almost heavy, as though something had settled behind her ribs. Emma frowned slightly. She didn't understand it. She had experienced pain before. Fear. Anger. Exhaustion. She knew how to recognise those things. But this was different. She turned her attention back to Cecilia.
Another tear slipped down the blonde's cheek. The strange sensation in Emma's chest tightened.
Why did seeing Cecilia cry bother her? She didn't know.
Emma had always struggled to understand her own emotions. Feelings were things she could observe in others, analyze, and sometimes even predict. Her own were far more difficult to name. She studied Cecilia again. The sight of her wiping the tear away with the back of her hand made that unfamiliar feeling grow stronger.
Emma's fingers tightened slightly around her fork. She sighed. Reaching for the box of tissues, she took a few and placed them in front of Cecilia. "Crying will get you nowhere."
Cecilia met her gaze through watery eyes. Then, somehow, she cried even harder. Emma's eyebrows drew together. That wasn't the reaction she had expected. She hesitated. She wasn't good at this. Comforting people had never been something Emma knew how to do. She was better at solving problems and eliminating threats. Consoling others was something that had always felt out of reach for her.
But seeing Cecilia cry made that strange sensation in her chest return. Emma focused on her. "So… stop crying," she said. Her voice came quieter than before. She paused, searching for the right words. "There are solutions to every problem. Before you know it, you may be…"
Emma stopped. Her gaze briefly drifted aside. "...home."
The words sounded strangely unfamiliar coming from her. Cecilia faced her. It was the first time Emma had spoken to her with anything resembling warmth.
Cecilia's fingers tightened around the tissue. "...You really think I'll be able to go home?"
Emma met her eyes. She wanted to answer confidently. She wanted to give Cecilia something to hold onto. But expressing that kind of reassurance felt strangely difficult. "I..." Emma paused. Her cool expression softened. "I think so."
A tiny smile appeared on Cecilia's face. "Thank you." Emma blinked. Her chest tightened again. She looked away.
"I—" She stopped herself. For someone who could remain calm in almost any dangerous situation, saying three simple words suddenly felt impossibly difficult. "...You're welcome." Cecilia smiled through the last of her tears. And Emma quietly returned her attention to her breakfast, pretending she hadn't just done something that had left her feeling strangely warm inside.