The light slanted across the small cottage, soft and golden, spilling through the broken windows. A few motes of dust floated lazily in the air.
Elias groaned and turned over on the old mattress, burying half his face into the tattered pillow. The faint sound of clattering dishes and a sharp voice full of irritation filtered through the haze of his sleep.
"Elias! Are you hibernating or something?"
He blinked groggily before hearing Amelia's voice again, closer this time. "Wake up! The sun's nearly left us behind!"
Elias squinted toward the window as light stabbed his eyes. "What time is it?" he mumbled.
"Far too late," Amelia said, arms crossed. "Half the day's gone!"
Elias stretched until his joints popped. "You didn't tell me the bed came with a curse. I swear it dragged me into oblivion."
Amelia huffed, trying not to smile. "So now it's the mattress' fault you overslept?"
He smirked faintly. "That, or your lake. You must've put a spell on it. I haven't slept that peacefully in…" He paused, thoughtful. "Honestly, I can't even remember."
She tilted her head as a soft grin appeared on her face. "Peacefully huh? Maybe you've gone insane here."
"Quite possible," he said dryly. "That'd explain a lot."
Amelia rolled her eyes and shoved a wooden spoon into his hand. "If you can joke, you for sure can work."
"Yes, ma'am," he said, forcing himself up.
The small pot over the hearth bubbled quietly as Elias stirred the mixture – some kind of stew made from leftover broth and a few wilted vegetables. The smell wasn't unpleasant but it wasn't inviting either.
Beside it, a half loaf of bread sat on a cracked plate.
Amelia busied herself with Liam, wiping his face and gently helping him sit up. "Eat slowly," she murmured, spooning a bit of warm porridge to his lips. "Good boy."
When she finally sat down, Elias gestured towards her. "You shouldn't be on your feet that much."
"I'm fine," she said dismissively. "Just a scratch."
"Last night's scratch landed us in a pile of sand and bad decisions," he replied. "Sit down. I'll finish up."
Amelia frowned but gave in eventually.
The stew finally looked edible, so Elias ladled it into two mismatched bowls and passed one to her. They ate quietly at first. Then he made a face.
"What?" she asked, mid-bite.
"Your bread… it kind of tastes like it's angry at me or something," Elias said, grimacing. "Are you sure it's not alive?"
She bit into her own piece, frowned, then laughed. "A little sour. It must've been left a bit too close to the window."
Elias shrugged, chewing anyway. "Rotting bread's still better than prison food."
She chuckled. "Now there's a complement."
They were halfway through the meal when Amelia suddenly snorted with laughter.
"What?" Elias asked.
She covered her mouth, trying to hold it in. "I can't believe we actually ran into those guards last night."
Elias looked up. "Oh no. We're not talking about that."
"Oh we sure are," she said while her eyes were already watering from laughter. "Two drunk knights with their trousers half-down, swaying by the lake, shouting poems at the moon!"
He winced. "Don't remind me."
Amelia's voice pitched higher as she mimicked one of them dramatically. "Oh radian moon, my silver goddess, light of my groi– "
Elias nearly choked on his stew. "Light of my what?"
"Groin! " she repeated, trying not to burst out laughing. "And then the other one! What was his name again? Geralt? Garvin? He shoves him and says, 'You idiot, don't you dare cheat on your wife with the moon again!'"
She continued, wheezing. "And you stepped right next—"
He pointed his spoon at her. "You didn't warn me!"
"—to them. Then, they turned around and saw you, and one of them squinted and went, 'Oi, wait a second… that's the bloke from the poster!"
Elias groaned. "They couldn't even read It properly."
"Oh no, they couldn't," Amelia said. "One of them held it upside down and said, 'This one's too handsome to be a criminal.'"
"I mean, he wasn't wrong," Elias said, smirking.
"The other one," Amelia went on, "kept insisting you were the wanted fugitive's cousin. 'Same eyes!' he said, poking your forehead!"
Elias sighed dramatically. "I was his cousin, his brother, and his ex-lover by the end of that conversation."
She laughed so hard she almost fell off her chair. "And then – oh gods – the first one, he suddenly goes, 'You know what, mate? You'd make the perfect best man at my wedding to the moon!'"
Amelia nodded vigorously. "Yes! He said it with such conviction! Then the other one got furious! 'I'm your best man!' he shouted. 'I've been your best man since we were twelve!'"
Elias snorted into his cup. "That explains why he tried to duel me with a tree branch."
"But then," Amelia went on, "the one getting marries suddenly gets suspicious. He stares at you, and says, 'Wait… you're too handsome. You'll steal my bride!!'"
Elias slammed the table, laughing. "And then he ran towards the lake!"
"Yelling, 'Don't look at him, my love! I'll be faithful, I swear it!'" Amelia cried. And the other chased after him shouting, 'You can't marry a rock in the sky! The moon's not worth drowning for!'
"And that's when we ran," Amelia said, gasping for air. "We could still hear them arguing from half a mile away!"
Elias wiped tears from his eyes. They both laughed until their stomachs hurt. Liam stirred faintly on the mattress nearby, smiling faintly as he drifted in and out of sleep, soothed by the sound of their laughter.
When the meal was done, Amelia gathered the bowls, humming softly. Elias noticed her limping slightly.
He frowned. "Sit," he ordered gently. "Now."
She blinked. "Elias, it's fine—"
As he crouched, the memory of last night flickered across his mind. The two of them stumbled through the woods after escaping the guards. The moonlight flashed between the branches, the frantic rush of breathless laughter that had almost felt like victory… until Amelia slipped on a rock.
A sharp gasp, the dull thud of her fall. She'd brushed him off then too, insisting she could walk, limping all the way back to the cottage as if pain itself was something she could will away. Now, as he knelt beside her again, the faint bruise along her ankle told a different story.
"Hold still," he muttered.
"I told you, it's nothing," she protested.
"Nothing that's swelling?" he said. "You could've twisted it worse if you'd kept walking."
Amelia looked away.
When he was done, he sat back, clearing his throat. "You should rest. Sleep in this mattress."
She blinked at him, startled. "What? No. You've already—"
"Amelia."
His tone left no room for argument. Her lips parted like she wanted to protest again, but the exhaustion in her eyes betrayed her. She sighed and lowered herself onto the mattress.
Elias sat back in the chair near the table, watching the flicker of sunlight crawl across the floorboards. The cottage was small, imperfect, and quiet — but it felt alive. For the first time since he could remember, he didn't feel like an intruder.
Just… human.
Outside, the wind rustled softly through the trees. Somewhere far away, the waves of the great lake lapped gently against the shore, carrying with them the faintest shimmer of something dark, spreading beneath the surface.