#oh ps

Maybe she hadn’t seen him? Perhaps the glare from the streetlights or the porch light had been enough to obscure what would seem like creepy, stalkery behavior to anyone who happened to have been around when he let slip from his mind that other people exist, that they can observe him, that they will judge. He was well aware of how ridiculous he was acting and if he could have stopped himself, he would have. Lucien was going to have to talk to Feyre about this whole mating bond business, and if it had ever made her feel as ridiculous as it made him feel. Surely he would feel less alone if he knew that others before him had made a similarly dumbass mistakes while trying to figure out if someone was the love of their lives.

Lucien spent half the time wishing he didn’t care for Elain, and half the time knowing he would never regret feeling… whatever this was. He hadn’t chosen it, but he supposed that there was never a question of choice, when it came to what he felt for her. And that if he had been given the opportunity to erase her from his mind, no matter how tempting the offer might seem on nights when he would have given anything for the relief of knowing how she felt and what she wanted, he still would have said no. He still would have told anyone within range and with a willing ear just how much he loved the woman who managed to make the focus of every room shine over her head and revolve around her laughter.

Between Elain being Made by the Cauldron and the war with Hybern, they’d hardly had a chance to speak, and since she had gotten a handle on her powers… They both had so many obstacles to overcome that Lucien wasn’t sure where to start, or when exactly it might end. How does one deal with all of their issues, forever, he wondered sarcastically to himself in the moments leading to this one. How might he ever find himself in a place where he could say with 100% certainty that he was in the proper place, and she was in the proper place, and from there they might find one another? This was an impossible scenario, a tale from his mother before bed, the idea that either of them would find the moment to finally let this happen, let alone at the same time.

Adjusting his shirt, fixing the collar so it was straight but not severe, Lucien opened the door to greet Elain.

With horror, he opened the door to his date’s hand raised, poised to knock on the door. But she hadn’t yet made contact with the wood, and if she hadn’t known he was waiting by the door for her before, she surely knew now.

Elain lowered her hand and smiled graciously, making a slight curtsy. “Lucien. Thank you for your prompt response at the door. It’s quite chilly out, and I am so pleased that you had the foresight to ensure your guest wouldn’t catch cold.” She smiled and held out her hand, which Lucien took mechanically, placing a half-hearted kiss on it. Guest. Why had she used that word?

“Elain, I,” he began, but he stopped himself. He had been prepared to confess everything, that he had been staring and waiting and pacing for over an hour. He wanted to explain that somehow, when it came to her, nothing rational was ever his first choice. But then he realized the gift she had just given him.

“Of course,” he said. He released her hand. “I was concerned that you were unused to the weather here. It can be quite startling, traveling from one Court to another.”

“Thank you for that. Not all High Fae are as accommodating as you are.”

Lucien stepped aside to allow Elain into the foyer, wondering when their date had turned into some sort of formal, nearly political rendezvous. He watched as she handed her muff to a servant, followed by the pale gray cape she wore. Lucien was so mesmerized by a long, bronze curl that bounced along her back that he didn’t realize when the butler came in to announce dinner. With a start, he offered Elain his arm after she cleared her throat.

Dinner began as a stuffy affair, with servants bustling around them and explaining the vintage of the wine. Lucien had a feeling that they would be deferential to Elain no matter what he required of them, no matter what prejudices some might hold against High Fae who had been Made, rather than born. She had the effect of lowering everyone’s guard, and he was determined not to let the same to affect him. No, he would be rational and keep his wits and nothing might compromise his proper behavior and betray the fact that he wanted to jump across the table to kiss her and finally understand the texture of her lips.

Their conversation began polite enough, discussing what they could without mentioning anything too personal. Any time he felt the danger of emotion begin to approach, Lucien quickly steered the conversation away from anything that might have to do with what either of them felt. He listened to himself in horror every time he would change the subject, knowing that what he wanted more than anything was to ask Elain what she felt, what she wanted, how she was.

Strike two, Lucien thought to himself. Elain might not have considered a specific moment as the one in which the gulf grew wider, but Lucien could feel it becoming harder and harder to connect with her. Could feel the distance between them growing that might make it impossible for them to ever find one another across it.

Eventually, Lucien decided to take a different approach. They had been talking of the weather, their families, upcoming festivals and celebrations, all of it topics they might have discussed with a stranger. But he didn’t want to be a stranger, what he wanted was to know every thought and feeling that passed through her, and he became desperate. Lucien thought of the first personal, intimate thing that he could say to Elain, and spoke.

“And how is Graysen?” He dug his fork into spiced vegetables and rice in front of him, waiting for her to answer before he looked up.

Elain set her fork down with a clatter. “Dude, this is romantic as fuck,” she said, and with that, Lucien spit out his mouthful of food. He had been mindful enough to grab his napkin before this unfortunate expulsion of spicy, half-chewed food all over his date, but he still needed to recover, and fast.

Strike three?

“I’m sorry, Elain, what?” Lucien handed his napkin back to a servant who knew well enough to step quickly behind his chair and take away the offending food-covered cloth. “I’m sorry but…” Words would not come to him for a moment, and he waited to see if he would get Diplomat Elain or another version.

“Weren’t we on a date? Weren’t we trying to connect, to see if this-“ she indicated to a spot on her ribs, just beneath her breast, “- if this were worth something more than fevered dreams?”

Lucien’s eyes rested on Elain’s hand, flat against the bodice of her dress. The dress was in keeping with human styles, though without the stays that might exaggerate her figure. He noted this change, even as he realized that he had never mentioned the dreams to anyone. The way that he woke up with a longing so deep that he thought he might never make it out of bed, he thought he might never be able to breathe air in the same room as her again. Not if she rejected him. In his dreams, he was looking for her. He was searching, moving from city to city, always feeling her but never being able to truly connect with her. He was perpetually one step behind her, never able to grasp her long enough to make sure she never left.

He wanted to ask her about her own dreams, whether they might be related to his own. Instead, he waited.

“Lucien, I never had any idea about this relationship being so easy. I never thought you’d have an easy time getting over your ex. I never thought that I would be able to let go of Graysen. I didn’t think I wanted to let go of him.” A slight shadow passed over her face, and Lucien wondered that it was even possible. But she just had said “fuck,” a word he had never imagined she would even hear, so maybe everything he thought about her was a lie.

“I’m not a doll. I’m not insane.” Determination began to take over what had threatened to turn her countenance permanently black, and she continued. “After I lost my humanity, I needed time. I needed to understand what I was doing, why I had been punished. But do you know what I realized, Lucien?”

He could only shake his head, wondering that she would be so open and free with him.

She continued. “I realized that I hadn’t been cursed. This isn’t what I wanted. A year ago, I never would have thought this possible. I never would have thought I’d be here, talking with you. But that’s the thing, Lucien. I see… so much now. I see everything, and yet nothing. For all my powers, I don’t know if being with you is the right or good thing.”

Lucien set down his fork and knife, waiting for the blow she was surely about to deal. If only he could explain how much she would wound him, if only she could intuit the way that even the slightest of her smiles could become a buoy for days at a time, keeping him afloat in a situation he had never had an idea of surviving.

“I think that we need time,” she said. “I think that I love you.” Lucien swallowed at the confession. “I’m not sure how or why. But I think that if you want the same, then I am willing to talk about more than just the weather with you.”

Lucien grinned. “Talking about more than just the weather would be great.” He held back a snort as he picked up his fork, the tension already leaving his shoulders.

“It hurts to love you,” Elain said. She pushed food around her plate with her fork. “But I still love you. I don’t know what any of it means.” She looked up at Lucien, and with a smile took a bite of food, watching Lucien watch her enjoy the flavors.

Once upon a time there was a Prince. He was kind and sweet and handsome and everybody in his kingdom loved him very much. As the Prince grew older it became obvious that many men and women of noble birth wanted him for their husband—a stream of gifts and visits from princesses and dukes and marquesses and lords and ladies. But despite all the lavish presents and grand personalities the Prince showed little interest in any of them, and was, in fact, much more interested in dressing in commoner clothes and sneaking down to the kitchens to help the cook (and get some of the fresh baked pastries she was famous for). He was royalty, so nobody ever questioned his odd hairstyle, which constantly covered his left eye.

Now it happened that in this kingdom there was also a Thresher, who worked all day cutting down fields of wheat and other crops with a scythe. His name was Rhyce and he was very good at what he did. One day, it was his job to bring the freshly cut grains to the kitchen of the King. While he was there, who should happen to be sitting in the kitchen eating a freshly baked pie but the Prince in disguise. The cook knew Rhyce, and knew of his penchant for telling fascinating stories if asked the right questions. So she asked him about some of his recent adventures and he related a tale about a runaway horse and him chasing it down on an unruly donkey. Sometimes she was sure he made them up, but Rhyce swore every single story was true.

After hearing this story, the Prince couldn't help but ask Rhyce some questions himself, and before they knew it the two of them had talked all afternoon and were both late for other engagements (the Prince for a reception and Rhyce for another delivery). But they agreed to meet in the kitchens again, and the cook smiled, happy that the two boys, who had seemed rather lonely to her, were talking.

Over the next few months, they met several times a week and talked and ate delicious desserts—Rhyce was as excited by the sugary treats as the Prince was, and that was a rarity. They found that they had many similarities in personality, even if the Prince was careful never to mention who he really was. And slowly, they became fast friends. It was odd, the Prince thought. After all the Nobility he had seen acting childish and unrefined, here was a poor man who could not be more noble. He was kind to everyone no matter their birth, helped anyone who needed it, and was always there with a charming smile.

During this time, Her Majesty the Queen became very ill and eventually died. The King too was getting on in years, and wanted to see his son married before he died. Thus, the Prince was told to make a choice; out of his many suitors, who would he marry? The Prince ended up picking a Duke, a man who controlled some land in the hill country of the kingdom. Despite the fact that he was spoiled and quick to become jealous, he was a good man at heart and did truly care for the Prince. Their wedding was set for several months hence.

However, about a month after the engagement, the Prince started looking...sadder. He did not smile as much, or seem to enjoy some of the things he used to. The person who noticed this most was, of course, a certain Thresher. Rhyce would bite his lip, wondering if he ought to question his friend about his changed attitude, but it was an unspoken rule between them not to ask about personal history. And, besides, it wasn't his place to pry and he was sure that his friend was all right. But it was also during this time that Rhyce realized something: he was in love. That, also, though was not something he allowed himself to talk about.

This carried on for a few months, the wedding drawing ever closer, when autumn came, and Rhyce had to go away for awhile to distant fields in order to thresh the crops there. The last day, he told his friend not to forget him, and that he'd be back by winter. The Prince didn't want to admit that by that time, he would be married. But then, as Rhyce was leaving, he turned back and kissed the Prince goodbye—and, although he didn't realize it at the time that was the moment that the Prince fell in love with Rhyce.

Unbeknownst to any of them, a neighboring King, upset that the Prince had rejected both his daughter and son, had plans of his own. His kingdom, while it was quite industrial and had a large army, was running short of resources and he had planned on marrying one of his children to the Prince in order to gain access to that kingdom's vast resources. Since the Prince had not chosen them, the King decided that he would kidnap the Prince and force the marriage.

So it happened that one night, strange men sneaked into the Prince's bedroom at night and kidnapped him while he slept. In the morning, there was a ransom letter informing the kingdom of the terms: the King must say that the Prince would marry one of the neighboring Kingdom's children, and the kingdom must also send many of its resources to the factories of the neighboring kingdom as well. The King was not pleased with this arrangement, and determined that he must send a group to rescue the Prince. Some people had seen the kidnappers and said that the Prince was locked in a tower on the border between the two kingdoms, guarded by many fearsome monsters as well as many famous warriors from the neighboring kingdom's army.

First to volunteer for this task was the Duke who was betrothed to the Prince. For it was his honor on the line and he also wanted to rescue the Prince who he loved and wished to marry. He assembled a team to go rescue the Prince, and among that team was a young thresher who knew some people in the palace, and had heard from his dear friends that the Prince was kind and good. They traveled across the land until they finally came within sight of the tower, and as soon as they did, they were pitted against every legion of might that could be summoned by the other king to protect his prize. Monsters and great warriors with shields inlaid with gold and enormous swords of iron that could cleave a tree in twain as easily as a knife passes through butter. The band fought valiantly and at last a small portion of them made it to the tower itself. The battles inside the tower were even more ferocious and many warriors fell on both sides. Eventually, on the second to last floor, of the original band only the Duke and Rhyce were left. In fact, the Duke was very impressed with Rhyce for it wouldn't seem that a man armed with a simple scythe could stand against some of the most honored heroes in the land but Rhyce moved with a passion and strength that belied his outward appearance. For, after all the Duke didn't know but Rhyce was fighting for his best friend and that gives you a strength that cannot be beaten—and the Duke also didn't notice the slight green shimmer that Rhyce's scythe had acquired.

But, at last, as they defeated the last of the guards on this floor, the Duke was badly wounded. He asked Rhyce to carry on the mission and rescue the Prince, giving him the key they had taken from the guards, and Rhyce promised that he would—but he was worried. It had been rumored that the strongest warriors of all were the guards in the Prince's room and, even fighting with all of his strength for his friends, he was only one man.

He climbed the last set of stairs with trepidation, worried that he would let down all of the people—the entire kingdom—who were relying on him. He took a deep breath as he put the key in the lock and turned it...and fell down the last few stairs as the door was shoved open from the inside by none other than the Prince himself. And Rhyce gasped as he fell because he could see, now that the Prince's hair was disheveled, that his left eye glowed with an unnatural light that signified that Prince was a carrier of Peccatum, an ancient power that, when controlled properly, allowed the bearer to have enormous fighting strength.

Rhyce hit his head as he landed, and for a moment everything went dark. When he could see again, who should be standing there but his dear friend from the kitchen—the Prince, he now realized.

“I saw from the window that you were among those coming to rescue me,” the Prince said, “And I couldn't bear the thought of you dying so I tried to come help you, but I could only fight those men with me, I couldn't do anything more...” He looked into Rhyce's eyes, “I am very glad that you are all right.”

“You did more than enough,” Rhyce answered, smiling.

The Prince nodded, “I would appreciate if you didn't tell anyone. Very few know.”

Rhyce instantly agreed, but on a condition, “I won't tell if you promise to keep this a secret.” And he showed the Prince how he was able to use green lights from his hands to strengthen his scythe and light his way—a magic unknown to the land.

Of course the Prince agreed, and helping the Duke and some other wounded heroes—from both sides in fact—they made their escape.

On their journey back to the Palace, the Duke watched how the Prince and Rhyce looked at each other and realized that the Prince was no longer in love with him. With no feelings hurt, he and the Prince agreed to renounce their engagement and once he was fully healed, he returned to his home.