𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦 - 𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘱𝘯

𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘟𝘓𝘝𝘐𝘐

𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 𝐀𝐑𝐂

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍
___________

"Give it to me! You already had six!"

Thoma's frustrated voice rang through the dining room, his eyes narrowed at the boy sitting across from him.

Lannion didn't budge. Instead, he locked eyes with Thoma, a wide smirk stretching across his face, the kind that promised nothing but trouble. Without breaking eye contact, he shoved the last piece of bacon into his mouth, chewing obnoxiously slow, just to rub it in.

That was it.

With a sharp movement, Thoma lunged.

A loud crash echoed as he tackled Lannion right off his chair. The two hit the wooden floor in a tangled mess of limbs, knocking over a half-empty glass of water in the process.

You sat at the table, chewing absently on a piece of fruit, watching the scuffle unfold with mild amusement. It was early, you were still groggy with the lingering feeling of nausea from morning sickness, and frankly, this wasn't surprising in the slightest.

Typical behavior from the two of them.

Across from you, Gilda shot up from her seat, her face twisted in exasperation. "Both of you, knock it off!" she scolded.

Unsurprisingly, neither of them listened.

You exhaled slowly, setting your fork down with a faint clink against your plate. "Hey."

Your voice wasn't loud, but there was enough weight behind it to make them pause.

Thoma had Lannion pinned to the ground, one arm yanking at his shirt, while Lannion was mid-struggle, his face red from laughing too hard. But at the sound of your voice, both boys froze, turning to look at you.

You leveled them with a firm stare. "That's enough. You can't be acting like this anymore. We're guests here—start acting like it."

A tense silence followed.

Lannion let out a breath, muttering something under his breath as he sat up, rubbing his shoulder where he'd hit the floor. Thoma grumbled, fixing his shirt as he climbed back onto his chair, arms crossed tightly.

Satisfied, you sighed, leaning back slightly against your chair.

Just then, the soft clatter of dishes filled the air as your new caretaker, the old woman, stepped forward with a plate piled high with fresh bacon and eggs. The smell wafted through the room, making everyone's stomach growl.

It's been a while since we ate decently good food.

"Anyone want seconds?" she asked, her voice gentle.

Thoma and Lannion's hands shot up immediately, as if the last five minutes had never happened.

A small chuckle escaped you, the tension from earlier fading slightly. Typical. But before you could reach for your drink, you felt a soft, familiar pressure on your knee.

Turning slightly, you found Rebecca watching you, her gaze laced with concern. Her fingers rested lightly against your leg, grounding but gentle, her touch an unspoken question.

"Did you sleep well?" she asked, her voice quieter than before.

You hesitated for a moment, considering how to answer. The bed had been soft enough, the room warm, but... rest hadn't come easily.

You gave a small shrug. "...It was decent."

Rebecca sighed quietly, her fingers giving a light squeeze before pulling away. She didn't press, but you could tell—she wasn't convinced.