Finn was not nosy.
He simply watched with deductive precision, as any noble prince-turned-peasant-protector would.
And recently? Something fishy was going on between his sister and their resident ex-knight.
It began with the tart.
Charlotte burned things every day—unintentionally, she insisted—but she had never shared the results with anyone. Not unless she was attempting to kill them. But on this occasion, Elias devoured the burnt apple tart as if it were Heavens' delicacy, and Charlotte blushed like a radish smitten with love.
Finn was not convinced.
And then the wood-chopping accident. Elias was bare-chested. Charlotte entered the backyard and promptly forgot how to speak. She stuttered something about tinder and made a sound that Finn could only liken to a swan swallowing its pride.
He, being a student of romantic subplots, recognized the signs.
Something was in the works.
And it was his responsibility, being the obviously-forgotten younger brother, to meddle.
So he took action.
Operation: Third Wheel.
Step one: Never leave them alone.
Elias would announce, "I'm going to the river to get water," and Finn would show up, suspiciously happy.
"I'll go too! I love water. Huge hydration fan."
Charlotte would roll her eyes so vigorously he was sure she could see her previous existence.
Step two: Casual sabotage.
He reseated their chairs by the fire to be precisely a meter away from each other. He stole all the romantic novels from the town library and stashed them under his bed. He substituted Charlotte's beloved candle—the one with the fragrance of spiced honey and desire—for one that smelled like goats.
And yet—
Even with his best attempts at heroism
They still managed to glare at each other over the table. Long, drawn-out stares. Entire silent conversations full of bittersweet yearning and emotional blockage. It was draining.
"Just kiss already," Finn eventually grumbled one night while walking by with a bowl of stew.
Elias gurgled. Charlotte let her spoon clatter. Finn just kept walking.
Later that evening, when he was feigning sleep, Finn had heard a laugh coming from the kitchen. A low, intimate one. The kind that curled around the heart and lingered there.
And despite still thinking it was gross, he smiled.
Because Charlotte deserved it.
Even if she was old and strange and scary when she got mad.
Even if Elias still referred to him as "kid" like he couldn't defeat him in an arm wrestle (he couldn't, but that wasn't the issue).
They were mending. Together.
And he would guard that—schemes and sabotage notwithstanding.