CHAPTER 205: MEMORIES

Victoria let out a small huff through her nose, walking to the bedside table and setting the pot down with more care than last time. "I’d rather see you sleeping than nearly collapsing in the courtyard."

Merlin blinked. "...You heard?"

Her eyes cut to his, sharp. "Half the academy heard, Merlin. You really thought no one would notice you wandering around with Elara at your side like some half-dead noble dragged to execution?"

Merlin’s smirk faltered. He leaned back against the wall, rubbing the back of his neck. "...I needed it. To feel the air. To see it."

Victoria’s lips trembled for just a second before she bit them into a line. She pulled the chair closer to his bed and sat, her eyes never leaving him.

"I thought I lost you," she whispered, almost too quiet.

Merlin’s chest tightened. He looked away, jaw clenching. "You didn’t. I’m here."

"You don’t understand," she snapped suddenly, louder than she intended. Her hands balled into fists in her lap. "When you vanished... it was months. Months of silence, no word, no trace. The academy wrote you off as gone. Dead. Some whispered you’d turned to ash like—"

She cut herself off, choking back the word.

Victoria’s eyes glistened, and she shook her head hard. "I don’t care. I care about you. And when I saw you again, standing there, alive—" Her breath shuddered. "I can’t watch you throw that away by pushing yourself too far, too soon."

The weight of her words hung heavy between them. Merlin stared at her, and for the first time since waking here, he let himself see her not as the composed older sister who always scolded and guided, but as someone who had nearly broken while he was gone.

"...You’re right," he admitted softly.

Her eyes widened slightly at his honesty.

He gave a small, crooked smile. "But you know me. I can’t sit still. Not forever."

Victoria exhaled, a sound caught between a laugh and a sob. She reached forward before she could stop herself, gripping his hand in both of hers.

Her palms were warm. Calloused in places from her own training, but steady.

"Then let me at least make sure you don’t fall on your face," she muttered.

Merlin chuckled faintly, squeezing back. "...Deal."

Silence lingered, but softer now. The kind that didn’t suffocate, but wrapped around them like a blanket.

Victoria eventually gestured at the pot on the table. "These are starleaf herbs. Strong roots, quick to mend if cut, and they thrive in any soil. I thought... maybe you’d like something alive in here. Something that doesn’t vanish when you close your eyes."

Merlin’s gaze softened. He reached out, brushing the leaves with his fingertips. "They’re stubborn, huh?"

Victoria smiled faintly. "Like you."

He chuckled again, but the warmth behind it was real this time.

For a while, neither spoke. The sunlight crawled higher across the floor, the sounds of students outside the infirmary window drifting faintly into the room, laughter, footsteps, the clang of practice weapons. Life moving forward.

Finally, Victoria leaned back in her chair, her voice quieter. "...Do you remember when Father planted the first ones in our garden?"

’Remember...the memories of my body.’

Merlin blinked, then let out a slow breath. "...I do. He said they were hard to kill. That no matter what storms came, they’d stand back up."

Victoria’s lips curved into something bittersweet. "He said the same thing about us."

The words struck deeper than he expected. Merlin stared at the little pot on the table, the way the starleaf leaves seemed to reach toward the light.

"...Guess we’re still proving him right," he murmured.

Victoria reached forward, brushing his hair back from his eyes like she used to when he was younger. Her touch lingered for a heartbeat longer than necessary.

"You’ll keep proving it," she said firmly.

Merlin met her gaze. For once, he didn’t argue.

—

The rest of the morning passed in a rhythm Merlin hadn’t realized he craved. Victoria stayed, talking about academy gossip, about instructors, about the way Reinhardt had been drilling Nathan and Adrian mercilessly in his absence.

She told him about Vivienne’s lectures, how they apparently had doubled in strictness, perhaps to cover the cracks left by worry.

Merlin listened. Really listened. The sound of his sister’s voice, steady and alive, filled the hollow places inside him that battle and silence had carved out.

At one point, she even pulled out a small basket from under her chair, bread rolls from the kitchens, still warm. "Don’t tell the healers," she whispered with a conspirator’s grin.

Merlin laughed, the sound hoarse but genuine. He tore one open, steam curling into the air, and for a moment it felt like home.

"...You’re still the same," he said softly.

Victoria arched a brow. "And you’re still terrible at hiding how sentimental you are."

He smirked, shoving a piece of bread into his mouth so he didn’t have to answer.

—

When noon bells rang, Victoria finally rose, smoothing her skirts. She looked down at him, eyes sharp again, though gentler at the edges.

"I’ll be back tomorrow," she said. "Don’t try to sneak another tour of the academy without me knowing."

Merlin raised a hand in mock surrender. "Fine. No more collapsing in public."

Her lips curved, and for the first time since she entered, her smile was unguarded. "Good."

She leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of his head—quick, firm, the way she used to when he was a boy. Then she turned and left before he could protest.

Merlin sat there for a long moment, staring at the door she’d disappeared through. His chest ached, but not with pain. With something far harder to name.

His gaze drifted back to the starleaf pot. Its roots were buried deep, its leaves stretching toward the light.

"...Still here," he whispered.

And for the first time, he believed it wasn’t just him.

—

The afternoon sun poured like honey over the academy grounds, soft and warm rather than blistering. The tall banners that hung from the watchtowers stirred lazily in the breeze, their crests shimmering faintly with enchantments woven into their fabric.

Merlin sat propped against the infirmary window, the starleaf pot resting on the sill beside him. He had spent the morning staring out into the courtyard, watching younger students hurry across the stones with scrolls tucked under their arms, sparring blades strapped to their backs. It was strange, life continued so easily for them. For him, every breath, every step felt like a war in itself.

The door burst open without warning.

"Merlin!"

Nathan voice crashed into the room like a hammer. His golden hair practically glowed in the sunlight behind him, his grin stretching ear to ear. He had a large bundle tucked under his arm, bread, by the smell of it, and maybe meat pies if Merlin’s nose wasn’t lying.

"Don’t shout in the infirmary," Liliana Astralis muttered as she followed him in, her long brown hair swaying behind her, blue eyes narrowing. "You’ll disturb the healers."

"They’ll live," Nathan shot back, already dropping the bundle on Merlin’s bed.

Ethan Crowell trailed in next, his green eyes flat, bored even, though he raised a hand in a lazy wave. "Still alive, I see. Guess we lose that bet."

"Ethan," Liliana snapped, scandalized.

"What? I said he’s alive. It’s a compliment."

Merlin chuckled faintly, shaking his head. "...I missed you idiots."

More footsteps followed. Seraphina Alden entered with her black hair tied back tightly, silver eyes sharp as blades. She gave Merlin a single nod, formal, as though acknowledging a commander rather than a friend. Dorian Graves slipped in silently after her, his pale hair stark against his red eyes. He said nothing, only leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, daggers visible at his belt as always.

And then—Elara.

She walked in last, quiet but unmistakable. Her silver hair caught the light like liquid, her violet eyes brushing over him with the faintest glimmer of relief, though her face stayed as composed as ever.

Behind her came two taller shadows, Reinhardt and Vivienne. Reinhardt’s long black hair was tied back, his bearded face stern as stone, arms folded. Vivienne, her golden hair pinned neatly, her brown eyes sharper than the edge of any blade, lingered near the door with her arms crossed.

Sophia, the runes instructor, wasn’t present, but Merlin could almost feel her disapproval echoing from some distant lecture hall.

Merlin blinked at the sudden crowd, his chest tightening. "...What is this, an ambush?"

Nathan grinned wider. "Field trip."

Elara spoke simply: "You’re coming with us."

Merlin raised a brow. "Coming where?"

"To the training grounds," Seraphina answered crisply.

"Wait, I can barely walk—"

"You can sit," Vivienne cut in, her voice rough with emotion she didn’t quite hide. "But you need to see them train. To see what you’re still a part of."

Merlin stared at her. The strict instructor’s eyes shone faintly, betraying what her iron tone couldn’t.

Slowly, he nodded. "...Alright."