The first activity of the day was chosen by Mira.
This immediately meant nobody liked it.
"Walking."
Elira stared.
"That is not an activity."
"It is for Fia."
Fia, sitting on the edge of the bed with both feet touching the floor, looked personally offended.
"I have walked before."
Mira folded her arms.
"Not successfully this week."
"That feels unnecessarily specific."
"It is medically specific."
Elira leaned against the wall.
"I support rebellion."
Mira looked at her bruised knuckles.
"You punched a wall."
"It started it."
Lyriel, seated nearby with her glasses halfway down her nose, said without looking up:
"It was structurally incapable of starting anything."
Elira pointed.
"See? Hostile."
Seraphine stood behind Fia, tying her dark hair into a loose braid.
"You are all distracting her."
Fia glanced upward.
"You're braiding my hair."
"Yes."
"That is also distracting."
"Mine is useful."
Elira gasped.
"Royal hypocrisy."
Seraphine ignored her.
Fia looked down at her own legs.
Today was supposed to be simple.
Stand.
Walk.
Eat.
Rest.
Do something normal.
Mira had said those words several times.
Normal.
Fia had discovered that normal was surprisingly difficult.
She inhaled.
Elira moved in front of her immediately.
Hands out.
"You want me or the queen?"
Seraphine answered:
"Me."
Elira turned.
"I asked Fia."
Fia smiled faintly.
"Both."
Elira's expression softened.
Seraphine stepped to one side.
Mira moved closer but deliberately did not touch her.
Lyriel set aside the notebook.
For once, nobody counted aloud.
Fia planted both feet.
Elira took her left hand.
Seraphine took the right.
Fia pushed.
Her legs shook.
Her breath caught.
But she stood.
One second.
Two.
Three.
Her knees threatened betrayal.
Elira tightened her hold.
"Still there."
Fia swallowed.
"Four."
Mira's eyes narrowed.
"Do not turn this into competition."
"Five."
"Fia."
"Six."
Seraphine said quietly:
"You're shaking."
"I know."
"Sit."
"One step."
Mira answered instantly.
"No."
Fia looked at her.
Mira stared back.
Elira whispered:
"This is where negotiation dies."
Fia sighed.
"One."
Mira's expression hardened.
Fia smiled sweetly.
"One tiny step."
Mira closed her eyes.
Seraphine said:
"I support one."
Mira looked betrayed.
Elira raised her hand.
"Majority."
Lyriel added:
"I abstain because I value survival."
Mira rubbed her temples.
"One."
Fia brightened.
"But—"
There was always a but.
"Supported."
"Fine."
"And then you sit."
"Fine."
"And no dramatic declarations."
Fia frowned.
"What counts as dramatic?"
Elira answered:
"Anything you say."
Fia glared.
Then took the step.
It was terrible.
Small.
Unsteady.
Her foot moved forward perhaps half its own length.
Her entire body reacted like she had crossed a battlefield.
Her knees trembled.
Her chest tightened.
Her hands gripped Seraphine and Elira.
But the step happened.
Fia stared down.
Elira stared too.
Seraphine's face softened.
Lyriel smiled.
Mira whispered:
"Good."
Fia looked up.
"That counts?"
Mira's expression changed.
"Of course it counts."
Something in Fia's chest hurt.
Not illness.
Something warmer.
Elira grinned.
"One step closer to that stupid house."
Fia immediately said:
"The house is not stupid."
"Then the stupid training yard."
"Small training yard."
"Medium."
"Small."
Seraphine began lowering Fia carefully back onto the bed.
Elira whispered:
"Negotiations continue."
Fia laughed.
And for the first time, sitting back down did not feel like losing.
---
Breakfast came next.
This time, Fia insisted on feeding herself.
Mira did not object.
She simply replaced the normal spoon with one that had a wider handle.
Fia stared.
"This is humiliating."
"No."
"It is enormous."
"It is easier to grip."
"It looks like something designed for a child."
Lyriel looked over.
"Technically, the wider surface reduces strain."
Fia slowly turned toward her.
"You are on very thin ice."
Lyriel adjusted her glasses.
"Noted."
Elira sat across from Fia.
"Look at it this way."
"I'm afraid to."
"You are eating with a battle spoon."
Fia blinked.
"A what?"
"A battle spoon."
Seraphine, pouring tea, asked:
"What distinguishes a battle spoon from a spoon?"
Elira answered immediately.
"Width."
Lyriel made a sound of deep disappointment.
Mira said:
"Please stop."
Fia looked down at the spoon.
Then at Elira.
"Battle spoon."
Elira nodded solemnly.
"Forged for champions."
Fia lifted it.
Her hand still trembled.
Less.
The spoon reached her mouth.
No spill.
Elira slapped the table once.
Mira nearly jumped.
Fia laughed.
"Stop."
"That was beautiful."
"I ate porridge."
"Heroically."
Seraphine raised her teacup.
"To the Battle Spoon."
Lyriel stared at her.
"Not you too."
Seraphine smiled.
Fia almost choked laughing.
Mira immediately pointed.
"Slowly."
"Yes, doctor."
"Healer."
"Dictator."
"Eat."
Fia did.
And finished nearly half the bowl.
Mira said nothing.
She was trying very hard not to look pleased.
Fia caught her anyway.
"Healer victory face."
Mira's mouth twitched.
"I still do not have one."
"You absolutely do."
Seraphine said:
"She does."
Elira nodded.
Lyriel added:
"I have documented it."
Mira stared at all of them.
"I regret caring for any of you."
Fia smiled.
"No, you don't."
Mira looked at her.
No joke this time.
"No."
She reached over and squeezed Fia's hand.
"I really don't."
---
The second activity was Lyriel's idea.
Which immediately concerned Elira.
"No equations."
"There are no equations."
"No ward theory."
"There is no ward theory."
"No ancient cursed books."
Lyriel stared at her.
"I am capable of recreation."
Elira looked toward everyone else.
"Can someone verify this?"
Fia raised a hand.
"I have seen no evidence."
Lyriel's eyes narrowed.
Then she placed a roll of parchment on the table.
Seraphine's eyebrows rose.
"What is that?"
Lyriel unrolled it.
A floor plan.
Fia stared.
Then slowly looked at Seraphine.
"You actually did it."
Seraphine looked entirely unashamed.
"I told you."
The house.
Not built.
Not yet.
But drawn.
A long, elegant structure nestled against a mountainside.
Wide windows.
A central kitchen.
A library.
A clinic room.
Guest rooms.
Private bedrooms.
A large shared sitting room.
And, outside—
Fia narrowed her eyes.
"Elira."
Elira looked innocent.
"What?"
"The training yard."
"Yes?"
"That is not small."
"It is emotionally small."
"It has two weapon racks."
"One is decorative."
Lyriel said:
"It is not decorative."
Elira turned.
"Traitor."
Fia leaned over the plans.
Seraphine moved a pillow behind her back.
Mira adjusted the blanket around her legs.
For a while, they forgot she was sick.
Almost.
Fia pointed.
"This wall should move."
Lyriel leaned closer.
"Why?"
"Kitchen needs more space."
Mira looked surprised.
Fia glanced at her.
"You said you wanted two sinks."
Mira smiled.
"I did."
"Then you're getting them."
Elira pointed to another section.
"Storage."
"For weapons?"
"Yes."
"No."
"Training equipment."
"No."
"Emergency swords."
"That is just weapons with anxiety."
Seraphine laughed.
Lyriel indicated the library.
"I would like a second floor."
Fia stared.
"This library is already larger than the bedroom."
"Correct."
"That is not a justification."
"It is to me."
Seraphine tapped another room.
"My office."
Fia looked at it.
Then at her.
"Too large."
"It is an office for a queen."
"At the mountain house."
"I remain queen in mountains."
Elira grinned.
"Unfortunately."
Seraphine looked at her.
Elira immediately said:
"Majestically."
Fia smiled.
Then noticed something.
A small room at the center of the house.
Unlabeled.
"What's that?"
Seraphine glanced at Lyriel.
Lyriel looked at Mira.
Elira pretended to be interested in the ceiling.
Fia narrowed her eyes.
"What did you do?"
Mira finally said:
"It was Seraphine's idea."
"Cowards."
Seraphine looked unbothered.
"A recovery room."
Fia went quiet.
The room was close to everything.
Kitchen.
Garden.
Bedrooms.
Wide windows.
A fireplace.
A private washroom.
Enough space for a healer's cot if needed.
Fia stared.
"No."
Seraphine's expression softened.
"Fia."
"I don't want a sickroom in the house."
Mira leaned forward.
"It doesn't have to be one."
"Then why is it there?"
No one answered immediately.
Fia looked away.
The joy of the plans dimmed.
Elira noticed first.
She leaned over the table.
"Then we change it."
Seraphine looked at her.
Elira continued:
"Make it something else."
Fia looked up.
Lyriel considered.
"A sunroom."
Mira said:
"Still medically convenient."
Fia looked at her.
Mira raised both hands.
"I said nothing."
Seraphine smiled.
"A reading room."
Elira added:
"A nap room."
Lyriel:
"Those are the same thing."
"They are not."
Fia stared at the little room again.
Then said quietly:
"Music."
Everyone looked at her.
"A music room?"
Seraphine asked.
Fia nodded.
"Windows open."
She could already imagine it.
"Something with strings."
Lyriel asked:
"A piano?"
Fia smiled.
"Maybe."
Elira pointed.
"And when you're sick?"
Fia's smile faded.
Elira's voice softened.
"We bring you there."
Fia looked at her.
"Not because it's a sickroom."
Elira tapped the drawing.
"Because it's your favorite room."
That settled it.
Fia whispered:
"Music room."
Lyriel crossed out the blank label.
Wrote:
**MUSIC ROOM**
And beneath it, very small:
**No medical tyranny unless medically required.**
Mira stared.
"That clause is unenforceable."
Fia smiled.
"It's in writing."
---
By midday, Fia was exhausted.
She hated that.
But instead of protesting, she said:
"I need to lie down."
Four women froze.
Fia looked at them.
"What?"
Mira recovered first.
"Nothing."
Elira stared.
"You admitted it."
"Yes."
"Without being forced."
"Yes."
Lyriel picked up her notebook.
"This is historically significant."
Fia pointed.
"No documentation."
Lyriel lowered it.
Seraphine offered her arm.
Fia accepted.
That mattered too.
They moved to the sitting room.
Slowly.
Fia walked three steps this time.
Supported.
Then four.
By the fifth, her breathing changed.
Mira stopped everything.
"That's enough."
Fia nodded.
No argument.
Elira stared.
"You have been replaced."
Fia leaned against Seraphine.
"I'm tired."
Elira's teasing vanished immediately.
"Right."
She pulled the couch blankets back.
Fia lay down.
Seraphine sat at one end.
Mira beside Fia.
Lyriel took the floor with her back against the couch.
Elira dropped into an armchair.
For a while, nobody did anything.
It was wonderful.
Fia looked toward Elira.
"What do you actually do for fun?"
Elira blinked.
"You know what I do."
"Fight?"
"Yes."
"That's terrible."
"Drink."
Mira stared.
Elira corrected:
"Socialize."
Seraphine said:
"She loses money at cards."
"I do not."
Lyriel looked up.
"You lost fourteen silver to me."
"You cheated."
"I counted."
"That is scholar cheating."
Fia laughed.
"What about you, Mira?"
Mira thought.
"I garden."
Fia blinked.
"You do?"
"Yes."
"I didn't know."
"You never ask about normal things."
The sentence wasn't cruel.
Still, Fia felt it.
Mira noticed.
"I didn't mean—"
"No."
Fia shook her head.
"You're right."
She looked toward Lyriel.
"And you read."
"Yes."
"Recreational books."
Lyriel hesitated.
Elira grinned.
"Here we go."
Lyriel looked offended.
"I read fiction."
Fia stared.
"You?"
"Yes."
"What kind?"
Lyriel became suspicious.
"That is private."
Elira sat forward.
"Oh no."
Fia smiled.
"Romance?"
Lyriel's silence answered.
Elira slapped her knee.
"I knew it."
"You knew nothing."
"What kind?"
"No."
Fia became delighted.
"Tragic romance?"
Lyriel looked away.
Seraphine smiled.
"Historical?"
Lyriel's ears turned red.
Mira gasped.
"Oh."
Lyriel glared.
"All of you are intolerable."
Fia laughed until she had to stop and breathe.
Mira immediately watched her chest.
Fia noticed.
Mira noticed Fia noticing.
Neither said anything.
Progress.
Fia turned toward Seraphine.
"And you?"
Seraphine considered.
"Horse riding."
Fia blinked.
"Really?"
"When I was younger."
"Why did you stop?"
Seraphine looked toward the window.
"Being queen."
Fia was quiet.
Then:
"When I'm stronger, take me."
Seraphine looked at her.
"Riding?"
"Yes."
Seraphine smiled.
"Absolutely."
Elira raised a hand.
"I'm coming."
"No."
"Why?"
"Because you will turn it into a race."
Elira looked personally attacked.
"I would never."
Four women stared.
Elira sighed.
"I would eventually."
---
The afternoon activity was cooking.
This was a terrible idea.
Mira knew it.
Lyriel knew it.
Seraphine knew it.
Fia knew it.
Elira suggested it.
Which should have been enough warning.
The palace kitchens prepared a smaller worktable in a private side kitchen.
Fia sat rather than stood.
Mira allowed one knife.
A small one.
Elira objected.
"She has destroyed armies."
"And today she is cutting strawberries."
"That is a dramatic career shift."
Fia looked down at the fruit.
"I feel overqualified."
Mira placed another strawberry in front of her.
"Cut."
Fia cut it.
Crooked.
Elira stared.
"That is ugly."
Fia looked up slowly.
"Would you like to repeat that?"
Elira backed away.
"Rustic."
"Better."
Seraphine was supposed to be mixing dough.
She was terrible at it.
Fia stared.
"You can't cook."
Seraphine looked offended.
"I can govern."
"That was not the question."
"The skills overlap."
Lyriel examined the dough.
"They do not."
Mira was chopping herbs.
Properly.
Efficiently.
Elira was attempting to caramelize onions and had somehow turned the heat too high.
Smoke rose.
Mira looked over.
"Elira."
"Controlled."
The onions blackened.
"Elira."
"Mostly controlled."
Fia started laughing.
Seraphine accidentally got flour on her sleeve.
She stared at it like betrayal.
Lyriel looked at everyone.
Then said:
"This is inefficient."
Fia pointed a strawberry slice at her.
"That is the point."
Lyriel frowned.
Then picked up flour.
Elira looked suspicious.
"What are you doing?"
Lyriel threw it at her.
The entire kitchen went silent.
Elira stared.
A white streak crossed her face.
Lyriel adjusted her glasses.
"Recreation."
Fia screamed laughing.
Elira slowly smiled.
"Oh, scholar."
Mira said:
"No."
Too late.
Flour flew.
Seraphine got hit.
Everyone froze.
The queen looked down at the white dust across her black shirt.
Elira whispered:
"Run."
Seraphine picked up a handful of flour.
Chaos followed.
Fia couldn't participate physically.
Not really.
So Elira handed her ammunition.
Fia threw small pinches.
Badly.
One landed in Mira's hair.
Mira stared.
Fia froze.
"Accident."
Mira picked up flour.
Fia's eyes widened.
"You are my healer."
"Correct."
"That should mean something."
"It does."
Mira dusted flour across Fia's nose.
Fia gasped.
"Betrayal."
Mira smiled.
"Therapeutic."
Ten minutes later, the kitchen looked like winter.
The food was mediocre.
The strawberries survived.
The onions did not.
Fia was exhausted.
And happier than she had been since waking.
---
They ate what was salvageable.
Mira quietly replaced the ruined onions.
Nobody acknowledged it.
Fia managed more food than expected.
Seraphine stole a strawberry from her plate.
Fia slapped weakly at her hand.
Missed.
Seraphine took another.
"Abuse of the disabled."
Seraphine smiled.
"Royal taxation."
Elira nodded solemnly.
"I support rebellion."
Lyriel said:
"You support everything that involves noise."
"Correct."
Fia looked around the table.
Flour still in everyone's hair.
Seraphine's sleeves rolled up.
Mira trying to wipe flour from her braid.
Elira eating burned onions out of principle.
Lyriel pretending she had not started the entire war.
Fia felt something ache inside her.
Good ache.
Terrible ache.
"I want this."
The room quieted.
Seraphine looked at her.
"What?"
Fia gestured weakly.
"This."
Elira looked around.
"A destroyed kitchen?"
"Yes."
Lyriel:
"Poor culinary standards?"
"Yes."
Mira:
"Questionable hygiene?"
"Yes."
Seraphine smiled.
Fia's eyes became wet.
"I want days where nothing important happens."
Nobody teased her now.
"I want to argue about food."
Her voice trembled.
"Furniture."
Elira:
"Training yard size."
"Still small."
"Cruel."
Fia smiled.
"I want to get annoyed because someone used all the hot water."
Lyriel said:
"Elira."
"Why me?"
"Probability."
Fia laughed.
"I want stupid problems."
Seraphine reached for her hand.
"Then we'll collect them."
Fia looked at her.
"Collect?"
"Hundreds."
Seraphine squeezed gently.
"Thousands."
Fia's throat tightened.
"That's a lot."
"I am ambitious."
Elira raised her cup.
"To stupid problems."
Mira smiled.
"To ordinary days."
Lyriel lifted hers.
"To inefficient recreation."
Fia looked at them.
Then raised her own cup with both hands because one still trembled.
"To doing stuff together."
Elira laughed.
"That may be the least poetic toast you've ever given."
Fia smiled.
"I'm recovering."
They drank.
---
That evening, they washed the flour out of each other's hair.
This had not been planned.
It simply happened.
Fia sat before the vanity while Seraphine gently brushed through her long dark hair.
Mira sat on the edge of the bed drying her own.
Elira lay upside down across a chair for reasons nobody understood.
Lyriel was trying to read while Mira combed flour from the back of her hair.
"You started it," Mira said.
Lyriel turned a page.
"I stand by my decision."
Elira grinned.
"Proud of you."
Lyriel ignored her.
Seraphine slowly worked through a knot.
Fia watched them in the mirror.
She looked tired.
Thin.
Pale.
Still weak.
But she also had flour on one cheek because somehow they had missed a spot.
She smiled.
Seraphine saw.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"That's rarely true."
Fia looked at their reflection.
"I look sick."
The room quieted slightly.
Fia continued before anyone could contradict her.
"I do."
Mira watched carefully.
Fia touched the pale skin beneath one eye.
"But I also look happy."
Seraphine's hands stopped.
Fia looked at her reflection.
"I think both can be true."
Mira smiled.
"Yes."
Fia looked toward Elira.
"I'm still sick."
Elira nodded.
Lyriel looked up.
"And?"
Fia thought.
Then smiled.
"And today was good."
Seraphine resumed brushing her hair.
"Yes."
Fia leaned back slightly.
Her eyes grew heavy.
Mira noticed.
"Bed."
Fia sighed.
"That word used to sound nicer."
Elira climbed upright.
"Tomorrow we can do something else."
Fia looked at her.
"Like what?"
"Painting."
Lyriel looked horrified.
"No."
"Gardening."
Mira looked interested.
"Possible."
"Archery."
Four voices:
"No."
Elira threw up her hands.
"Fine."
Fia laughed.
"Gardening."
Mira smiled.
"Gardening."
Seraphine helped Fia stand.
Elira supported the other side.
Four steps to the bed.
Fia made all four.
Slow.
Shaking.
But hers.
When she settled under the blankets, Lyriel placed the mana crystal nearby.
Fia looked at it.
Then at her.
"Do we need it tonight?"
Lyriel hesitated.
Mira considered.
Then Mira reached over.
Turned the crystal facedown.
The glow disappeared.
Fia stared.
Mira said:
"I'll check you normally."
Fia smiled.
"Normally."
Seraphine climbed into bed beside her.
Elira claimed the chair.
Lyriel took the couch.
Mira remained near enough to reach Fia.
Fia looked around.
"You know there are other bedrooms."
Elira closed her eyes.
"Rumor."
Lyriel pulled up a blanket.
"Unverified."
Seraphine settled beside Fia.
Mira dimmed the lamps.
Fia closed her eyes.
She was tired.
Very tired.
But not afraid enough to fight sleep tonight.
Not after standing.
Not after eating.
Not after drawing house plans.
Not after terrible cooking.
Not after flour warfare.
Not after ordinary things.
Seraphine whispered:
"Goodnight."
Mira:
"Goodnight."
Elira:
"Try not to disappear for five days."
Mira threw a pillow at her.
Elira caught it.
"What?"
Lyriel said:
"Poor phrasing."
Elira sighed.
"Sorry."
Fia smiled without opening her eyes.
"Goodnight, idiots."
Four offended voices answered at once.
And Fia fell asleep laughing.
Not because the future was safe.
Not because her illness had vanished.
Not because love had magically solved anything.
But because today—
they had made breakfast difficult.
Designed a house.
Ruined onions.
Started a flour war.
Talked about horses.
Argued about books.
Walked five steps.
And somehow, after everything they had survived—
that felt enormous.