The Enchanted Bond: A Howl's Moving Castle Fanfiction ft His Imaginary Son

Chapter 6: Beneath the Surface

The morning sun crept over the rooftops of Porthaven, casting soft rays through Eira's window. She stretched, trying to shake off the remnants of the restless dreams that clung to her like cobwebs. Ardain's teasing smile and the moonlit paths from the night before had followed her into her sleep, unsettling her in ways she wasn't ready to admit.

"Not again," she muttered, rolling over and burying her face in the pillow. Ardain Pendragon was persistent—both in her thoughts and in real life, like a storm that refused to pass.

A soft knock on the door broke her reverie. Her grandmother, Galena, entered with her usual calm grace, eyes sharp and knowing.

"You've got a visitor waiting for you downstairs," Galena said, a hint of curiosity in her voice. "He doesn't seem like the type to leave easily."

Eira groaned. "If it's Ardain, tell him I'm busy. Forever."

Galena's lips twitched with amusement. "You can tell him that yourself. Though I doubt it'll change his mind."

Reluctantly, Eira pulled herself out of bed, already bracing for whatever charm and wit Ardain was bound to throw her way. But when she reached the stairs and saw him standing by the door, she hesitated. He held a bouquet of wildflowers, their bright colors a vivid contrast to the dark black of his coat. His expression was... different.

"Good morning," Ardain greeted her, his smile soft but, for a fleeting second, faltering just enough for her to catch it. He quickly recovered, the usual charm sliding back into place. "Care for a walk? The market's bustling today—perfect for sharpening your wit."

She opened her mouth to refuse, but something in the way his eyes softened—just for that brief moment—stirred something in her. Against her better judgment, she found herself nodding.

"Fine," she muttered, accepting the flowers. "But this is not a date."

"Of course not," Ardain replied smoothly, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Just two people, sharing the joys of a crowded marketplace. Absolutely nothing... fateful about it."

As they stepped outside, the cobbled streets of Porthaven buzzed with life. Merchants called out from their stalls, children darted between them, and the air was thick with the scent of fresh bread and sea salt. The energy was contagious, but Eira found herself distracted by Ardain's presence.

Women stared as they passed, whispering behind their hands, eyes trailing after Ardain. Some even waved or greeted him with smiles that lingered too long. Eira resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"I see you're quite the local hero," she remarked, casting a sideways glance as more women waved at him.

Ardain grinned, but this time, the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "What can I say? People are drawn to bright things... like moths to a flame."

Eira raised an eyebrow. "Is that how you see yourself? A flame?"

He chuckled, though the sound felt lighter than usual. "A flame, a star—fate has a sense of humor. Or maybe it's just giving me an excuse to spend time with you."

She blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone, but before she could respond, Ardain's grin widened. "But I digress. You, however, seem far too comfortable dodging the spotlight."

They walked in companionable silence, and soon, Eira found herself relaxing. They passed a small artist's stall filled with delicate glass figurines and colorful paintings. Eira's attention landed on a watercolor of a familiar forest—the one near her home.

"It's beautiful," she murmured, momentarily forgetting Ardain was beside her.

"Not as beautiful as the real thing," Ardain said softly, his usual teasing tone absent. His gaze lingered on the painting, his expression faraway. "Funny, isn't it? How we all chase something—trying to find that one place where we belong. And yet, no matter where I go..."