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Fleur's eyes drifted shut, eyelashes fluttering against her cheek like a butterfly coming to rest. She was exhausted, barely sleeping since returning home to France. Maybe she could finally get some rest. Maybe…
Tendrils of white-blonde hair floated eerily around Gabrielle’s head, tinged green in the light filtering through the lake’s murky waters. A queer flash of relief mixed with fear shot through Fleur. Gabi looked still as death—a perfect porcelain doll—except for the occasional small bubbles escaping from her rosebud lips.
Fleur began to swim towards her younger sister, slicing through the water with long, smooth strokes. Taking the shortest route over a patch of pondweed, she screamed, the sound trapped in the pocket of air surrounding her head, as a slimy, webbed hand grabbed her ankle. Spinning in the water to face her attacker, she kicked hard, triumphant as her foot connected with the grindylow’s eye. The feeling was short-lived, however, as a swarm of grindylows emerged from the plants to avenge their comrade.
Unable to escape their strong grasp, the bubble grew smaller as her panicked breathing increased. She knew there was a risk she would die in this tournament and chose to participate anyway, but knowing that she'd condemned Gabrielle to the same fate was worse than anything she could've imagined.
“Je suis désolée, Gabi.”
The last thing she saw before her world went black was Gabrielle’s fine, blonde strands bobbing with the current.
Fleur sat up sharply, disoriented to find herself in bed, tangled in bedsheets instead of underwater weeds. Her heart was pounding and her breath burst from her lungs in harsh gasps. Gabi. She needed to see Gabi.
She slipped from her bed and down the corridor to Gabrielle's room. She stood in the doorway, watching the gentle rise and fall of her sister's chest. Fleur knew she should return to her own room, but she hesitated. It wasn't enough.
Careful not to wake her, Fleur stepped into Gabrielle's room and tiptoed to the bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress. A lock of hair had fallen into her little sister's face and she tenderly brushed it off her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. She continued to run her fingers through the silken strands, her hair soft and dry and still.
As she stroked her sister's hair, Fleur felt the tightness in her chest begin to ease. She took a deep breath and smelled the lavender sachets that their maman used to freshen their sheets, the scent enveloping her in comfort. She stood up, ready to return to her room, ready for another attempt at chasing the slumber which continued to evade her despite the months since the tournament.
Her sister stirred, eyes opening slowly. She whispered, “Fleur? Restes avec moi?”
“Bien sûr, chérie,” Fleur replied, glad to have a reason to stay. Sliding under the covers, she laid facing her sister, snuggling close. Gabrielle smiled as she closed her eyes, her breaths evening out once more.
Fleur matched her breathing to her sister's, eyelids drooping as sleep claimed her.
Gabrielle was fine. Fleur was fine. Everything was going to be fine.