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cowboylament · 1 year ago

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“You’ve got 100 years on me. Where’s your kindness.”

“I saved your life that's pretty kind.” He said standing.

I hummed, “yeah well Eris saved it first so you’ll have to do a bit better than that.”

I might have noted how it felt to make him laugh so many times, might have wondered at the strange world we’d seemed to find ourselves within, as if winnowing had sent us sideways into another universe, rather than through our own. Instead, I felt something else, something not heavy at all, but light and wispy, vanishing from the room. It was nameless, even looking back at the two moments did not reveal the nature of what had left. Instead just an instant before, my left hand seemed to hold something within it. Like a caress but laden with meaning. My fingers flinched around the phantom. Then Lucien’s hand too, the same one, in the same instant, flexed.

Y/N makes a deal with death and Lucien is part of it. Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Bonus, Ao3

(Pre-Amarantha)

“The Princess of the Night Court.”

Darkness gave way from the back of my eyes. There had once been an empty room and warmth enveloped me, but where it had gone I was not sure. My head weighed too much, and in trying to lift it, to follow the tether of consciousness made in that voice, it only lolled from side to side. I couldn’t even tell how long I’d been blinking at my dangling feet until suddenly it occurred to me I was.

I lifted my gaze, the weight diminished, and 13 pairs of eyes stared back at me. Whatever ether I was returning from vanished, an imperfect attention to the scene taking shape. There was nothing beneath my feet for me to move on, to back away, and as I tried to cover myself with my arms I found an ache in my shoulders, a burn at my wrist from the rope.

They were watching, those 13 eyes. Glinted in the moonlight, narrowed with mixtures of amusement and disdain. And I knew some of them.

A bony finger pressed at the middle of my spine and began to drag itself down my back. I recoiled, my legs instinctively flinching forward trying to bow my back, to run away. The High Lord, Beron, revealed himself from behind me.

“Aren’t you pretty.” He said and I managed to twist away enough for his hand to fall. His boots crunched under the crisp Autumn of night. Were it any other circumstance I’d have closed my eyes and taken pleasure in the feeling of my bones growing cold. I’d have stood there until I couldn’t stand it any longer, and slept until the morning came, with an Autumn made for summer.

“You denied our offer of marriage.” He continued, looking toward his sons, just two of them waiting on his word. Eris stood with the cruel beauty he’d always had, ruined only by whatever sneer he decided you deserved. Next to him, Lucien. His stony exterior didn’t break, not even now, but I knew it all enough. The pair were amused.

It had been a mistake, coming here alone, and I’d insisted. How foolish you could seem through the lens of mortality. Beron set himself before me, his thin frame so used to towering over me he almost reluctantly looked upward. The action was only made real by the fact it was he who had all the power.

“But you will still be an Autumn Court bride.”

Someone told.

Around us, the males gathered in the clearing stirred. The hum of their intentions sliced through me, cold and unforgiving.

“This is your last chance,” Beron said looking out toward them all, the rabid wild things waiting. Something truly unimaginable had been decided, and I could not stop its occurrence, not really. “You can marry Eris and we can be done with it.”

There was a creeping silence, one that only enhanced the roaring in my ears, as if they’d been filled with air. I wasn’t even sure if I could hear at all. The only thing that told me I could was the sound of my own voice, as cutting and familiar to Beron and his son’s as the cruel tone of his own.

“I won’t make the same mistake as your wife.”

Though he had not been amused whatever spark of joy he got in the terrorizing of females winked out. Like a cloud had passed over the moon the small brightness of his face became shrouded in shadow. Words to kill by, words to harm. Only he couldn’t, if the stories were true. If the legends of primal instincts and the Cauldron weren’t folktale, in this place, before all these people, he couldn’t.

He walked behind me and I steadied my breathing. The moment the High Lord left my field of vision my stomach dropped. If that made a sound then every male before me heard it, along with that frantic heart beneath my chest. Their smiles broadened, white teeth catching the moonly glow to show their feral delight at my helplessness.

Even Eris. Even Lucien.

Gravel stirred directly behind me. I looked out at the crowd like knowing their faces would give me power over them. His voice, too close, spoke the damning words.

“By the Cauldron.” He said and a deep burn wrapped my side, climbing like fire on a dry field. The cold night flooded my throat in the shock of my gasp, before it was ravaged by a scream. He was burning me, Beron, he had to have burned me, but there was no smoke. The scent too, was not of flesh, but of blood. I looked down and saw the stain across my dress, the silver blade bathed in red like it had seen battle.

He cut me.

And the words, his voice rang out into whatever silence had been left behind by the ceremony. The ancient marital ceremony. His sentencing worse than death, spoken in that old tongue.

“We ask the blessing of the Lares.”

Then the taut rope went slack and I tumbled down to the ground, knees screaming, feet numb. I’d been tied a long time. His barbaric deed had been done, archaic, but the old magic of the land remembered and I felt its thrum.

“Make use of your head start,” Beron said, his back to me. He was already walking away. The outcome to him didn’t matter.

I didn’t look to make sure the magic had bound them to their place. The cover of the brush waited, and I needed distance, I needed objects between us. Without a stumble, on legs I could barely feel, I bolted. I was only under the cover of the darkness for mere minutes, when into the silent night, cries made for battle rose to the air. 13 males were competing to find me, and whoever got me first, would make me their wife.

It did not take too long for it to occur to me that Beron had cut me precisely to prevent any great feat. I didn’t dare try to winnow, not when the scrapes of branches that whipped at my arms in the dark could barely manage to heal. Whatever siphon of magic I contained had been clamped.

I wound my way, sacrificing distance for staggered random cuts, in the hopes that the trees and bushes would offer coverage I myself could not provide with my shadows. The bright white cloth only served as a marker, the growing red stain almost helping me though not as much as it hindered.

Another male yelled, closer, but not by much. They taunted me from a distance. The rules of this wretched ceremony had been decided centuries before, but at least they’d put in that, the head start. If I got far enough I could winnow, into a tree or lure them someplace and then winnow myself far away.

There came a clearing, a large one and I bit back a cry of frustration. Losing the distance only to now need it. I’d be a lamb for slaughter, out in the open. Branches snapped and I couldn’t wait. I ran into the tall grass as fast as I could. The further out I got the sharper the clairty, the more dire circumstances revealed. There was a river cutting across it. My hearing, all my senses had to be dampened. I hadn’t heard it. Those men then must be closer than—

Out of the brush, six males descended upon me. Their large frames moved at impossible speeds. I kept going, didn’t hesitate to plunge into the water even as they got closer. No planning could save me, only action. I stumbled where the water got deeper and slowed me down. I still had some time, the head start would not be for nothing. Waist deep and on slippery stones I pushed forward and did not face my fate. I didn’t want to know who was closest.

The water which might have been thin, delicate even, seemed now thick and sluggish. It slowed me, but with the magic those males had, I wasn’t sure it would hold them. Halfway through the bank bottomed out and I submerged myself. The surprise sent a gasp of icy water to my lungs.

Resurfacing to the sound of splashing water, the closeness of Eris's laughter, I half choked and half cried as I righted myself trying to reclaim air. My side howled as I made through the current. Even in the icy water, the wound burned. Some trick at the Autumn hand—a blade that burns.

I didn’t let myself wallow, for what tonight was lost. Eris who had, in all his wretched years, at least laughed with me on occasion. Who that first night in summer court had asked me to dance when no one else was brave enough to do so. Even for all his scheming, for the advantage he got in those moments and the intention of insulting us, he knew me.

I reached for a branch on the other side to pull myself out, my bicep straining with the weight of my body. All the afternoons Cassian offered up his training and all the afternoons I declined. How much and how little I knew if they were to catch me, and even with what I knew, how little of it I could successfully do.

I could barely move but a surge of strength dragged itself through me and I lifted myself out using the branch as leverage. Just as success seemed imminent, however, a sharp tug pulled me back down. I yelled a signal to whoever else was out in those woods precisely where I was, had I not fallen under again.

Move. Move. move. The words were sent everywhere in my body but for a minute I couldn’t. The hand on me lost its grip just as my limbs seemed to register their abilities. I had no more time. Now, even these single moments could decide my fate. My fingers brushing the bottom of the murky water pushed upward. Cough after needed cough left me vulnerable. Someone saw it, they grabbed my arm. I swung, muddy rock in hand, and the cry pelted the air before a splash. I didn’t look back to see who the male was or if he surfaced. Silence followed. When I made it out on solid ground I let my assumptions push me.

They were faster, better equipped, taller, stronger, but I was not in the water. A lacerating pain hit my gut. It slowed me down a fraction and without my fae hearing, I didn’t register the impending heavy footsteps behind me. A boot pushed between my steps and I skidded to the damp floor, disappearing into the tall grass.

The wind was knocked from my chest but before I could replace it a hand pressed over my mouth. A body followed it.

“Listen carefully. Make for the thicker part of the woods diagonal from here.” It was Eris. He had me, I could feel the power in his having me, like the magic wanted him to do something, but he wouldn’t. He gritted his teeth.

“Run. Do not stop running whatever you do.”

He was instructing me, helping me? Or making the game more fun. He didn’t want to marry me. A male close by let out a cry of agony and my eyes widened. I shook my head grasping at the hope he’d find sympathy for me, that it would remind him who I was. Yet where I expected some wickedness, looking at his face, taking in the words he was repeating, he didn’t look the same. His face looked softer than it had in all the years we’d seen each other, far less cruel. I could tell it, even in the darkness of night. His words registered fully once he pressed a blade to my hand.

“You can make it.” He didn’t say where, or what was waiting, but a noise just after the last word came out must have caught his attention. His head whipped before he looked back at me and then I saw it, his mask. It slid so precisely into place. It was familiar, it was him, it reminded me of Rhys.

He was saving me.

I gripped the blade.

“Looks like fate is in my favor,” Eris said.

The two men there looked on, eager that I was caught even if not at their hand. Neither of them was Lucien, if he’d even run with them at all. He’d just wanted to see me suffer, he was worse than Eris, and I never even knew it.

Eris looked back at me with the most subtle of nods as the men approached. The grass hid the blade he’d given me. Did he know? Did he know what I knew to do? Or did he just believe in me, my ability to survive? Two twin shadows blocked out my face from the moon and it was the only signal Eris needed. The future High Lord of Autumn moved with the speed only a cauldron-blessed male could possess.

One swipe and the males were stumbling back. I was up as soon as his body was off me.

“What are you doing!” one yelled toward Eris and I looked for that thicker brush. It was an impenetrable darkness just to my left. I made to shift toward it, but the second male must have come after me instead of waiting behind because a hand was on me. I whirled with my blade and struck. Unluckily, he had a weapon of his own.

“Where'd you get that?” He said almost in awe.

My eyes flicked toward Eris accidentally. The male before me smiled and I knew he understood. I gave Eris away. He could fight these two men on his own, maybe, but it was no guarantee. Before he could think of what the information meant, what he might do with it, I sent a slash and metal met metal. I would not let my mistake prove fatal for the only one who’d helped me.

It was sloppy work, all of us tired, all of us sopping. I could hear Eris fighting, swords striking almost in echo to our own. My opponent managed to slice my arm and I cried out, withdrawing from his reach.

“Ah, the little Illyrian.” the man said and he tapped at his shoulder subtly.

Darkness swooped in, slick and faint. Halfway gone, I felt halfway gone. The cold of the gown was replaced with the warmth of the blood. No, none of this was good.

My breath curled into the night, heaving, as light as smoke. It would be a fight then, there was no other way to go. I used all I had learned from Cassian to disarm him, widening my stance, lunging, and before he could even register the shifting weight of my body a sharp slice through his abdomen gutted him. He fell to his knees with a look of surprise but the last thing he saw was my back disappearing into the thick forest ahead.

I could feel the darkness. It pooled around me with such intensity I was being dragged by it. Foolishly I waited for Rhys to arrive, to just know instinctively something was wrong, but even as I hoped I knew the shadowed world was nothing but the heaviness of an approaching end.

I stumbled, a tree root and fell onto the path. I wanted to lift myself but all I could manage was to crawl into the brush. I leaned against the tree that had at last defeated me. The wetness on my side remained. Whatever shock that had settled under the skin had vanished and the weight of all that had happened pressed down on the wound. My breath was shallow enough, the warmth at my side great enough, that I understood I was about to die. Whatever Eris believed I’d make it to was too far.

I could possibly winnow, but I had waited too long to go any distance greater than the edge of Day Court, if we were even near it. And even then, even if I did that, there was no telling what or who might be around, if anyone at all.

So I would die, and Eris would die, if he hadn’t killed that male first. Maybe in the after worlds, the lives that came later, we could stomach one another. Or else, we would be given another opportunity to prevent this outcome.

Something cracked near by and my mind drew blank. It was right there, the creature. My head nodded to the side momentarily becoming too heavy. The brush moved and moonlight basked my face. I brought down my sword and lunged now face to face with my opponent.

Lucien.

“Stop.” He said instantly. His warm fingers wrapped around my wrist and the knife fell. After everything he’d won.

Behind us, Eris roared Lucien’s name into the night air with so much rage I thought the trees would strip themselves bare of their leaves. Without a word, he hauled me into his arms. I was limp, dead weight, curling around him like ivy and even then his speed didn’t diminish. The noises of the ceremony fell behind us.

Your good blood is wasted, I don’t know anyone who’d have you.

I opened my eyes and with some found strength made to push Lucien away. I don’t know who was left in this game, but this was not an outcome I could manage. I would be no consolation prize. I shoved harder. Even if I couldn’t win I would like to die knowing I’d tried, just to say I had, just because it felt like it was what I would do.

Lucien stepped off the path and dropped me, bark biting through the cotton.

“Stop. If you do not listen to me, you will die.” He said sternly. “Eris and I are getting you out, back to Night Court.” His reprimand loud somehow didn’t echo in the near silent woods now. As if he’d willed it.

“That’s treason. You’ll both lose your titles and be dead by morning.”

If Eris wasn’t dead before, he was now. Lucien shook his head and our eyes met. He had a stern cold look about him but with everything, with all of the history, all the baggage I knew what he meant. Pain lanced through me, not from the wound, but from what he had planned.

“Don’t,” I said. “I’m not worth it.”

“It’s too late,” Lucien said simply, like he thought of me as an equal. “Eris has already planted the story of my betrayal. And unless you prefer to die I’d rather not see my mate slaughtered like a lamb.”

I felt my heart in my throat. That yell, that brutal raging yell, its purpose for us, and its origin a lie. How had Eris mustered the strength, the ability, to tell it so seamlessly? Who less than half an hour ago had been smiling at the thought of my demise. Lucien would be killed if he returned, if even I couldn’t find the seam of truth and fact in that voice. His crime was beyond the scope of the Autumn Court’s cruelty. Beron would have found some way to forgive Eis and his violence but this scapegoat, it was too perfect.

They’d kill him and if they didn’t kill him they’d hunt him until they could. Anyone who claimed him would have their own death wish. Lucien, he’s now a prize for slaughter just the same as me. We were equals.

My knees gave out and Lucien moved forward to support me on instinct. We can’t both die. Death backed away a step, as if in answer, in negotiation. I prayed to that male waiting to take me through the veil, to any forgotten God who had nothing else to do, to the Cauldron and its humor. Let me get him safe, it is all I need.

“I don’t want you to,” I said through my teeth as the burn raged in my gut.

The oblivion receded. The darkness at my eyes cleared and life, in its small worships, returned. The thrum of whatever had coveted the soil at the start seemed to pull back within me, just barely. I was clearer of mind. I had something I didn’t have before.

“You don’t have to. We’re going.” Lucien made to pick me up again but I shoved my forearm under his neck and twisted us around. He froze, mouth slightly agape and eyes narrowing. He didn’t fight, even if he would be able to outmaneuver me, overpower me, in this state.

“You don’t get to make commands,” I said, the feelings, the position, the male, it was all too familiar. “Not after what your father did.”

He craned his neck down, nostrils the disgust on his face as plain as ever. Yes, this was familiar.

“I had no part in that. The moment we discovered what they planned we made the decision then to get you out.”

“And if you’re going to succeed you are to do exactly as I say.”

He barely reeled it in. Out of reach still, but closer than before, sounds of males desperate raging screams tore the night in half. Their anger so chilling we both had to look toward it. His focus changed though from what he couldn’t see to what he could. He looked longer, like he was saying goodbye, taking one final look, before in similar fashion as Eris something slid over his face that masked what had been there before. Only instead of it being a false front, to hide his true intentions, its indifference concealed a deep pain. I knew what was there though, and what it mourned. Even though he’d never said it—his mother, he mourned his mother.

The male nodded. We couldn’t waste any more time.

“Take us as far east as you can in the Night Court.”

This plan had to work. Death itself had granted me the power for it. It was a precise kind of weight, and I knew just what it would allow.

Without question, his warm hand enveloped my arm. It was the only warmth left in the world. I didn’t need to know anything for that to feel worse than it did. Death held my coldest hand, but I couldn’t think about it or the new plan. At least there were goodbyes. Lucien looked forward like he could see it, what waited on the other side of his power. His face stony, seemed barely capable of emoting at all. There was a sense of doom on the precipice. The kind in which you realize you’ve just lost everything.

Then a wind tucked around us and pushed us through the seam of the world.

We jumped through space twice and when I opened my eyes I might have laughed. He’d landed us perfectly. Just ahead of me a rock carved with the Night Court insignia lay hidden.

“I can’t get any further.” He said, looking around, eyes catching, constantly flicking back to that invisible wall. “We should go.”

The wards were close, and what a comfort to know they were working. I latched my arm around his, holding it with both my hands. Now now now now

“I know,” I said. “I’m taking us the rest of the way.”

“Us?” He said but before we could move I yanked him through the ward. He felt it, in fact, his eyes narrowed in the places he’d caught before. Backing away from me, he stared at the space behind me, warped ever so slightly to the eye, like it would reveal something. You’d have to know to look for it to see it truly.

“What did you do.” He said, disbelief clouding his face while anger descended upon him.

“You’re staying with me. These wards won’t let you out.” I said, a small lie. Though he might not want to leave anymore, he very well could.

Lucien’s entire face morphed with familiar disgust. “If I’ve saved you just to be killed by the High Lord of the Night Court—”

“You forfeited your life to that wretched place. You’d be lucky to have the swift death at my court’s hand.” It was so easy to be cruel to him. Even if I wouldn’t let him die least of all the way Beron would have done it, I didn’t mind wounding him. How rarely we ever came to blows with such severity and even still I knew just what to say.

“That's my home.” He plowed forward. Easy indeed.

“If you leave…” I said.

The world began to grow fuzzy, a warning, perhaps, that the generosity of fate was a limited thing. My power momentarily flickered in and out. We needed to go and we needed to go now. I leaned into the tall male before me for support. I was sure I was pale, sure that he couldn’t deny me. “They’ll kill you. Please, Lucien.”

Without another hesitation, the anger lost to him, he grabbed me. “Go,” He said. “Now.”

I took the last of my power, wrapped it around us, and again we were gone.

Just as soon as we landed in the living room I collapsed forward. The deal was done. My side burned with such intensity I could barely breathe. Lucien was lifting me toward the table in an instant. He didn’t even look around the room, it was like he knew it. He dodged two chairs, a table. Whatever was on the slab of wood fell to the floor shattering in the otherwise silent house.

The chaos, then, was born.

Footsteps barreled through the hall and Rhys and Morr appeared through the doorway. They pushed through the furniture. It was carnage, everything was tossed over in favor of getting closer.

“What happened?” Morr said

Rhys didn’t care. “Get Madja” and without a thought, our cousin was gone.

“I got her here as soon as I could,” Lucien said as though he’d been here a thousand times. The townhouse, Velaris, the High Lord of Night Court, none of it mattered. The history was erased, he had tried his best, he had helped, it was all he wanted to say. His voice promised too, the desire to do more. If given an order he’d take it.

Rhys focused his gaze, realizing for the first time just who had been holding me, who was standing in his house. He hesitated, just enough, that I saw what he was about to do and pushed myself off the table. Just an instant of his power could be irreversible.

I was not fast enough, not as fast as I should be. The darkness drew back from the corners of the room. Death watched, waiting to see who he’d take. No— as I approached the two males something about that assessment felt false. I was ashamed even, to have considered it. Something watched me curiously, whatever had given me that power, it gave a kernel more back.

By the time I got close enough to grab Rhys and use it, he had Lucien by the neck.

“I should rip your throat out.”

“Rhys!”

Lucien didn’t look at me, a slight redness taking in features. I pulled my brother's shirt, blood smearing on the sleeve I tugged and tugged but he was too afraid, too focused in his pursuit of revenge. He almost lost the only full-blood family he had left. Nothing mattered besides this fact. I moved between them. Rhys couldn’t look either, he refused to.

I pressed my back into Lucien and wrapped my arms behind me to hold myself tight into him as if my body would force air into it just by being there.

“Let him go,” I said with the practiced sternness of regality. As if I were talking to someone in the Hewn City. I repeated it two, three times, let him go, let him go, let him go. Yet each one fell apart in my mouth, the thread of desperation growing tighter. Its influence forced a wetness from my eyes.

Lucien’s hands which had been on Rhys's wrist reached down and grabbed mine, tightening around it. He did not come all this way to die in the townhouse. My family home was not a place of such violence. It was a brutality I was tired of.

I tried to get into my brother's mind but it was shielded and the pain at my side became too much. He felt it anyway, me at his mind, because once I hit the shield the first time his jaw slackened. He registered, for a second time, the male in the living room.

Lucien gasped a breath.

“Rhysand,” Morr yelled rushing toward us. I hadn’t heard her, hadn’t even seen until she was there. “you're upsetting Y/N.”

All words had gone. Lucien gasped for air, the grip loosening further, but I didn't look. I didn’t want to injure anyone more, find something primal in my need for Rhys to drop him. It was enough.

The rage left his eyes and Lucien fell. Relief, like death, flooded me as my mate leaned into me for support for half a second. The darkness moved toward the edges of the room again. This was it. So I let Lucien lean, even as the pain returned.

“He did this to you?” Rhys asked.

I shook my head, and when I faced my family, their brows furrowed in shock, confusion, moved closer together with worry. Lucien, who still pressed his warmth into my palm, gripped me tighter by the wrist and it was the first sign to me I was falling. He was the only tether left to the real world. Everything else snapped the moment that blade struck. It was all Madja needed.

Morr ordered everyone out, her familiar arms lifting me back to where I’d been. I asked her to go watch the two males. She didn’t argue and left. A piece of the panic in my own heart settled. I hadn’t known that it was reserved for Lucien, hadn’t known that it was not for my own safety, but for his. I knew it was bad from the healer’s face. I waited for the darkness at the corners of the room to envelope the world, but they stayed put.

I hadn’t said goodbye, but that was not part of the deal. Still, they waited, as if idle, again watching. Selfishly I was glad at least it had stopped hurting. The old fae’s hands moved quickly, her eyes scanning, I felt them both probing in and out of me, like she were under the skin. Maybe she was, I hadn’t seen the wound.

“This may be unpleasant.”

I made to open my eyes, to see what she was doing, but just as I did she poured a solution over my skin. The pain that had been coming in its waves, returned at full force, twofold. Closing my eyes only made it worse, I became acutely aware of the deepness with which the solution entered my body, the sensation of the burning, the moving hands, the panic. I cried out, yelled unlike any of the yells I’d had in the Autumn Court. To survive this would be the hardest work, but to speak after was something of a miracle.

“How you made it this long without passing out I don’t know,” she said.

Tears began to wet the side of my face again, and she just watched. It was all she could do while my head shook like even if she could she would take it back. My muscles contracted in directions out of my control. I couldn’t reach for her, couldn’t even beg more than a shake of the head and inaudible cries.

“What did this? Who did it?”

I didn’t answer, turning my head into the cool wood of the table. My teeth gritted so tight I don’t think air made it through, let alone words.

“I need to know.” She said grabbing my face to look at her. I felt the stickiness of blood on my chin. I’d gotten used to the metalic scent. It was all I could smell.

“Beron,” I gasped out pulling from her, squirming away. “With a blade.”

“Was the blade special?”

I clamped my eyes shut and the darkness was too impure for what I wanted. I wanted to find I was no longer seeing, faced with the voice. Each time I tried to escape the pain I found, always, I could get no further from it. The solution she’d poured was still making its way down into the deep of my body, further than I tracked my existence. “What?”

“Did you notice anything about it?”

I shook my head gripping the table. “It burned when he sliced me, I thought it was fire.”

She sighed and inhaled deeply before she nodded, grabbing for her supplies with fervor. The pain was coming in waves offering momentarily relief.

“I have to do it the human way. If I use magic to heal this it will only grow worse.”

“What?” I said

“It hurts like this because your body is trying to heal it with magic which the blade is specifically cursed to prevent. It makes death slow, excruciating for fae, allowing only a little healing before reverting back.”

I let myself wallow as she attempted to thread the needle, but when my shaking proved too difficult to work with she threw a towel over my body and quickly left. For a moment I thought I’d died. I’d died and was trapped inside for just a second to see it all unfold in another layer of agony. Only she returned with someone. A tall, tanned male. His face did not betray him so easily but I knew that he was shaken up. I reached my hand out for him.

“Cassian,” I said but my voice was weak, shaken.

He approached but seemed not to know what to say, instead choosing to grab for my hand. He knelt and I was eye level with the kind familiarity of his face. The first pierce of the needle almost proved too much, with every other pain, and I clamped my eyes shut so hard I saw stars. I squeezed his hand, all that power gone, I didn’t even think about if I could hurt him. I knew I couldn’t.

“My, my, have you gotten stronger? I think my finger is broken.”

When I was younger, regardless of how long we’d been apart, he’d hug me and always say that same line. I laughed a little, as best as I could manage which sounded more like crying.

“Rhys isn’t killing Lucien is he?”

He barely managed more of a laugh than I did but shook his head. “No, but it's taking all his and Morr’s effort.”

“Good.” I said through gritted teeth “He’s not half bad to look at I’d hate to lose the new Velaris eye candy.”

“That's probably the nicest thing I’ve ever heard you say about your mate.”

“If I do die at least I have a good confession. You’ve all wanted to know what I thought of him this long.”

“You can’t die,” Cassian said moving forward with such seriousness I almost went to say I was kidding but he continued. “We have 7 AM training.”

The needle disappeared seemingly. Whatever had been in that solution had begun to diminish, the waves of pain coming more slowly and with less force. It still left me breathless, but even that was a relief compared to what had happened. I would have sworn my rib was broken if the pain didn’t seem to be inflamed and surging at once.

“What you thought a little flesh wound would get you out of it? No, I don’t think so. No special treatment, even for the High Lord’s sister.”

“What if I told you I used your disarming technique.”

Cassian’s eyebrows rose, “did you? Tell me about it.”

“Gutted him.”

Madjas work faded even more as I told him what I remembered, the tips he’d taught me. The choice to grab Cassian of all people, was perhaps her best and greatest prescription.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

It was getting darker now. My throat strained on it and my eyes began to close as if I were falling into a deep sleep. The only thing that kept me awake was the sudden intensity with which Cassian squeezed my hand.

“Keep talking to me. You gotta keep talking.”

I tried to swallow, but nothing was there to swallow, and my throat began to burn in a different way. I felt the flare of my nostrils as I tried to hold it in, the pain on top of the pain, but I knew it was obvious. Knew now that my eyes glittered and clouded with unshed emotion, waiting to come out.

“Promise me you’ll be nice to Lucien.” Cassian hesitated and I gave him the only glare I could manage. “Please.”

“I will. For you, I will.”

I shook my head, I didn’t want him to do it for me. The violence all these years, what we’d fed each other and allowed, was what brought this. It was one thing, what Lucien and I did, but it was harmless just the same. He could call me names, fight with me, mock me, but nothing would ever make me desire harm against him. This was a well-bred hatred, that had born such violence. We were all part of it, in our own malicious way.

“You don’t understand. None of you do. You won’t even look, really look, at someone.”

I didn’t know if something like that could be undone, but at least we might say we tried. I dropped his hand and began to wipe at my face. Who knows what would happen, how I’d heal. If my mate would be stranded in Velaris or away from me. An instant protectiveness of him became me in a way it never had.

Cassian sighed, “it will take time.”

“I know, but you just have to try.”

“Okay, I’ll try. No more tears, not over this,” Cassian said, taking my hand back. The male seemed lost in thought for a moment before he brightened and added. “I’ll take him to Rita’s.”

I really laughed at that and it sent the rest of my tears out of my eyes to make room for new emotions to sit there. Cassian looked less scared, softer now. Whatever was going on behind me must have been a major improvement. In fact, I felt as if my color had returned a little. “He’d be a hit there I have to say.”

“Do you have a crush on him?” I scoffed but Cassian's amusement was hard to miss. The smile on his face got broader. “I’ve always suspected that there was a little something there c'mon you can tell your cool older brother.”

“You won’t tell?”

“Not a soul.”

I closed my eyes, reluctant. I’d made such deals before, but I opened my mouth to keep talking as the sound of the scissors cutting the thread sliced through the room like a surrender, a victory. “He's certainly not a bad male to be mated to. He keeps me very entertained.”

Cassian smiled “Well isn’t it convenient that 50 years later he’s now in Velaris.”

Madja stood and the moment was broken, Cassian met her eye and nodded to whatever the healer had gestured. I did not have time to be embarrassed for what had been shared between us. Most of them had teased me about Lucien and our dislike for one another. Rhys was the worst about it, though Morr and Cassian were tied for second. All of them secretly believed we’d been together, been in love. Only Morr had reason to believe such a thing.

Cassian moved around the table and they spoke in hushed tones.

“He’s her mate?” The healer said before I could sense that I was alone. As they left, so too did a darkness from around the room, like a thin cloud had, at last, passed over the sun. Perhaps I had never been that close to death at all, or maybe the shadows were proof, really, of how close I was regardless of if they were real or not.

It was hard to say how much time passed, but after a moment footsteps entered into the dining room again.

“Cassian?” I said keeping my eyes closed.

“Calling your mate by another male’s name is not exactly polite.”

I turned my head so slowly, it seemed to take every bit of available energy. He was stock straight, standing in the entryway and I didn’t speak, didn’t move. I really beheld him then. Despite his face, he was warth made real. His throat bobbed, and the first step he took walked toward the edge of the table was lethargic, tentative. By the time he reached the edge though, he was more confident, kneeling just as Cassian had. His doing it seemed tender, almost sincere. Unlike Cassian however he didn’t hold my hand, he instead reached to brush away the hair on the side of my face that had become glued down by my tears.

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired.” My voice cracked. I let my head fall to the side, let him hold its weight before righting myself.

“Do you need anything?”

He offered it as if he knew where to go, if I asked for water, for food, he’d walk through my house like it were his own. Or else, there was a kind of bravery in his willingness to face my court and say I wanted it. In his position, I’d have been useless. I shook my head, my eyes falling to the red ring around his throat. Something in me wanted to lash out, a whip in my chest.

His hand brushed more hair away drawing my focus back. “You did good.”

I don’t know if that was ever a word he’d described me as. Good. It sat in my mouth like marbles. I almost made to look to see where we were, if this were Prythain and not some other universe close by. Yet even my voice had taken on that tone that had no name. The kind that spoke like we were laying in bed together, like there was a long-time intimacy between us. Perhaps hatred, just as much, could make one known to another, could make a language for which only you two understood.

Lucien’s eyes caught sight of something above my head and he reached for it. “She said that I need to check the bond.” Warmth pooled along my cheek. He had a rag, a fresh one, and he began to wipe the blood from my face.

“Why?”

“A mate has…certain capabilities, sight, that can be helpful with injuries like this.”

I nodded, his fingers delicate and different than I remembered or imagined. I turned my head almost knowing where to go intuitively and he dragged the warm rag over me before dropping it back in the bowl. A small act of care.

While he began to focus on our bond I studied his face. I could feel it instantly, that growing tension, as if he were pulling on something in me. If it weren’t so hard to move I’d think I was sliding off the table into him. My chest becoming his chest, his eyes mine, fingers. I scanned his features, he’d not lost the granite look he had in Autumn. He was different now though. If not on his own then simply in the way he appeared to me. He should be, loss does that, and he’d just lost his family, his mother. Something in me ached and just as the pain in my heart pierced me Lucien’s eyes flicked to mine.

“You’re very handsome.” I couldn’t even commit to the idea I hadn’t been thinking those words. That I was saying so only to avoid the pain of my sympathy for him. It would be foolish to pretend it was not true, I’d always known it. I’d said it just because, because I guess I was trying to discover what was in this new difference, what we could do with it.

The tension inside me stopped and Lucien’s brows rose in the shock before he began to smile just a tad.“Took you 50 years to figure that out?”

“Didn’t want to boost your ego.”

He laughed a little and I felt the pull begin again. I closed my eyes. He must have noticed after a while because he started talking again, even though it felt as though the worst of it was over. I didn’t think I was in danger anymore.

“My ego is no bother to you now?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Being chased through the woods has a way of putting things into perspective.”

“Maybe I should tell Madja something’s wrong with you.”

I smiled as faintly as he had. This was I think the most civil we’d ever been in all our lives and even now it held an air of rudeness. It was laughable. Who knows where we’d be in 50 more years.

“If you’re going to be here I might as well give you a chance to be bearable. I know you’re narcissistic.”

“How mature you’ve become.”

“I always have been. You’re just too old to remember. What are you 400? 500?” the mating bond in place seemed to strain with emotion. Not one that I could decipher but it was like I’d been let in somewhere or a flood gate had been opened and all of it and its complexity came spiraling out. It ended shortly after.

“300.”

“You’ve got 100 years on me. Where’s your kindness.”

“I saved your life that's pretty kind.” He said standing.

I hummed, “yeah well Eris saved it first so you’ll have to do a bit better than that.”

“Y/N.” Rhys said from the hall. My mate drew back, seamlessly capable of diminishing his presence at will. He made himself less visible all altogether, I could not forget though. “Using magic is off limits while that wound heals. You’ll have to remain in bed.”

I smiled, if only to tell Rhys I was alive and exhausted, “your early morning training threats will be postponed then.”

He could barely laugh, but he tried. He turned to Lucien, similarly incapable of forgetting him now that he was here, in this house. “I’ll show you to your room. Cassian and Morr are taking you Y/N.”

The Lord of Bloodshed appeared behind my brother and I let my head fall to the side, everything slowed down. I felt like a wounded prey. Even my blinks came at a crawl.

Cassian though didn’t look toward me first, he watched Lucien. His gaze trained on my mate, as if studying him. I saw something there between them which had no category, no definitive emotion, but it was like the context of my confession was a haze with which Cassian was trying to see this Lucien. Not the Lucien he knew of his own construction, but the one there, who’d traveled all that way, who’d tried for his life to get me home.

Lucien must have noticed the pause and the two ever so slightly nodded. Maybe what had left was that bitterness between us all, or else, the intensity for which it blinded us. Reluctance and yet the threads of trust passed between them. I understood only that what had happened wouldn’t be forgotten but the possibility that they could know each other differently was there just the same.

Then Cassian looked at me and smiled. His hands reached under me and as gently as ever he pulled me off the table. He waited for any tension or wincing, speaking only once we were sage and upright. “You know how many females would kill for this?”

Rhys chimed in behind us. “None from what I remember.”

“You’re just mad because you’ve been sorely lacking on our trips to Rita’s.”

“Keep it to yourself,” Morr said. “Y/N’s already queasy.”

***

Morr managed to clean me up. Though magic had been off limits for me, I was glad at least that its use by others didn’t burn. From the bureau, she’d managed to pull a shirt and pants. Each delicate movement sent a searing burn into my side. With every small victory, I took a breath: a hand through the armhole, my head pulled out of the neck.

“How do humans do it?” I said wincing when she’d had me lift my leg.

“They’re almost resilient if you think about it.”

After tying the pants shut, however, my cousin looked at me with a cocked brow. The clothes were clearly a male’s. The shirt had too deep a neckline for females, it pooled open when we bent to reveal the bandages. The pants had to be pulled beyond their means to be tied to fit.

“Rhy’s was gone.”

“Oh that's not my question, I wanna know what your guests walked out of here with?”

I kept as much grace and delicacy as I could manage, sitting in my bed. Exhaustion was at last closing in with a welcome it had not had before. My cousin tossed the blankets over me, but I knew better than to lie down. Rhys would be here at any moment.

I could tell Morr wanted to ask. She sat in the chair as if waiting for a solstice gift, the kind of expectant look children get, but I think she wanted to be respectful. I knew though, she wanted to ask. What happened out there, between you both? What could change things so drastically? I opened my mouth as if I words existed to tell her, and she sat forward too like she knew what was coming.

“Whose clothes are those?” Rhys said. If there had been words to say he’d have interrupted them, but as it happened I didn’t know what could change us both in such a way. I wasn’t even sure I knew where I was.

“Cassian let me borrow them.”

I was quick, but it was useless. The male himself walked in behind him and seemed confused upon hearing his name. Rhys, however, did not even consider my lie because the clothes were far too small to be his. There weren’t even holes for the wings. We had a kind of agreement, to say as little as we could about such things.

The gravity of our situation settled when Rhys pulled up the chair near my bed. The tightness of his movements, the precise arc of his brow. He always had a different look when he considered me, my words, as my High Lord. I could tell the difference of who I was speaking to. I was so tired I thought I might cry again, at the thought of having to hash out details now. If I did he wouldn’t be cruel, he wouldn’t push.

“I won’t ask any questions tonight, but I do need to know if he hurt you.” Rhys began to say. He didn’t say his name, just acknowledging Lucien strained on his vocal cords like the words were too big to leave his throat. Whether he’d heard me downstairs, if he’d felt that need for the Autumn male to remain unscathed, he wanted me to say it aloud, he wanted reasons.

“He got me out. He and Eris, they had a plan.”

“Eris?” Cassian chimed in. “He was there too?”

I felt a heat burn into my lower back, not that of the one by the blade, but more familiar. They’d made no promises to me, my court, only death had. If I wasn’t careful they could kill him for his family’s crimes, they could be unforgiving. My hands balled the comforter and I looked between the three warriors watching me. I felt so like them and yet so unlike them just the same. A warrior of a different kind, not meant to fight. Not meant maybe for their world, yet I was a part of it and I felt its influence gladly, with warmth. The strains though were showing. Something had changed in those woods, that much was true.

“I behaved badly,” Rhysand said, knowing what I was thinking without stepping inside my mind. “I’m committed to hearing out all sides before I make any decisions.”

I met his calculated stare. “They asked for the blessing of the Lares.”

The whole room dropped in temperature as if all the heat had been snuffed out by shadow. It was indeed ancient magic, from fae across the sea, not so much done here, where the chosen bride was taken against her will. The male intended for her was set in pursuit, and the Lares donated some of their magic to him. That was what Eris had been fighting against, the urge to release the magic, only capable when I let out a cry of pain. Beron would pick up whatever backwater ceremonies he could that allowed violence, warping them, making them worse.

“I could barely winnow. He was the one who got us to the Night Court. I just got us into the townhouse.”

I shifted with the weight of my brother's pity. Rhys had never really asked me about my mating bond. Even the teasing historically had been more about tolerating Lucien than the thought we’d ever truly acknowledge what we were. No, not once had he asked me of Lucien and Velaris or what it was like, to have that tether, and if there was anything we wished to do with it.

How could he though? When it had snapped into place Lucien and I were at each other's necks in the Day Court visiting as guests. We’d snuck into an alcove of the great library to try and resolve an argument but at its peak, Lucien’s eyes burned with hatred and realization. I knew what it meant. I didn’t have to ask why he’d looked so disgusted. It was a rare moment of unity, not so much civil as we’d been downstairs, but neutral. We agreed that it was unfounded, that we might ever be mated truly.

We’d run into each other as we moved through courts and seasons alike, dancing with whoever, kissing whoever, flirting with whoever. No one was off limits besides each other. Occasionally when our manners overpowered the anger we’d agree to meet somewhere and have it out. We were so cautious it took 25 years for Rhys to find out. It slipped when I was drunk and he was so livid after I explained our arrangement I spent three months waking at dawn to train with Cassian.

“He was ready to die tonight for me. He forfeited his title to save me.” I said my voice hushed.

Everyone straightened, this was news, terrible news, only adding to the complexity. It meant he didn’t simply have a member of the Autumn Court, but it’s unclaimed exile. If Beron discovered before we told him that we’d had him there’d be reason for a blood duel, for a war.

“He what?” Morr said, her voice barely a whisper.

“I forced him through the Velaris wards. He told me Eris and he planned to plant a story of treason. If he leaves this court, if he remains unclaimed, he’ll be slaughtered. I couldn’t let them do that.”

To him, I couldn’t let them do that, to him I nearly said. A careful mask, one that I felt guilty about. It made me look better than I was, to take anyone's life so seriously, but the truth was I cared only for his. I’d done it for him and him alone. I’d probably have left Eris, trusted him to figure it out, just as I had in that clearing after the river.

A heat of embarrassment struck and whatever color I had regained grew more intense. What I did want them to know though, was that it mattered to me. That if I had a say I did not want Lucien dead. He never intended to make it out tonight. He wasn’t just forfeiting a title, He was giving up his life for me. If we were equals, I intended to do the same.

“I’m incredibly serious when I say this. I want you all to be good to him. He lost everything tonight.”

For all his friends I wasn’t sure any could claim him. I had little power over this outcome, but if there were any I’d use it. We were his best shot. It was no small ask, the fallout of claiming someone who’d committed treason could start wars. I knew though, knew that to reveal my hopes and his sacrifice changed enough.

Across from me, the softness of an older brother returned once more. Rhysand bowed his head in acknowledgment while Morr and Cassian followed suit.

“Not everything.” Rhys smiled and before I could ask what he meant he added, “it is clear we are indebted to him. I don’t know how we’ll move forward from here, but I can at least offer him refuge.”

I let out a breath, relaxing further in the place where I had unknowingly reserved such worries for Lucien. My brother stood and the pity of the group was relinquished to the night.

“Rest, we can talk more on it all later. You’re both safe and that's what matters.”

The group made to leave, flicking out the lights. What might the rest of the court make of all this, having spent 50 years on the outskirts with too much to say about it. Cassian had already gotten something less scathing from me. Tomorrow, in the days to come, would we revert to our old selves and let tonight be nothing? Later, as Rhys said. The lights dimmed but from the hall, the shadowy figure of Cassian peered back into the room.

“I can’t promise I won’t wield my words if provoked.”

“You’re barely coherent now.”

I heard his laugh from behind the door.

***

Sleep came quickly at first, but it began to flicker in and out. The deepness of it grew more shallow and I, unable to toss and turn, felt restless near dawn. It seemed this new feeling, this new world, would not go away. Much like falling asleep for the first time in a new room, despite being surrounded by my belongings and friends, I couldn’t get comfortable within it. So I watched the window, waiting for the new day, where. As the sky lightened to that purple dusk, the door to my room creaked open and I knew precisely who was there.

Lucien, similarly in borrowed clothes, wore a knit sweater of Azriel’s and some pants. I wanted to smile, would have smiled but I was too tired to tell myself to do it. He didn’t say anything, didn’t move, we just stared at each other. Not the same Lucien really, nor I the same female. This new Lucien was keen on not speaking, and when I realized that I broke the silence.

“Why are you awake?”

“I can feel your restlessness down the bond.”

I made to sit up, biting a groan, but Lucien put his hand out to stop me. It's not as if I was particularly polite and regal with him before.

“Sorry, I can’t even shield.”

“The healer mentioned.”

He pulled the chair Rhys had been in closer to the edge of my bed. It groaned with his weight, the ease with which he leaned back, relaxed, like he hadn’t discovered this long-held secret. He was as casual as ever but that was familiar to me. I could make him angry or nothing, rarely anything else. I could navigate this easily, I knew the body of his relaxed posture, every flinch, every raising of his brow. What I didn’t know was what I wanted him to feel when I didn’t want him mad. The quality of the light grew more pure through the window. Not quite dawn yet not really day. In the beam of it, he looked beautiful. It was almost becoming of him, to see him in Velaris. I almost liked him.

He smiled, the smile he gave when he knew something about me that I didn’t want him to know. I moved my mind to other thoughts but that only garnered greater amusement.

“So guarded even still.” He said, his keen observations never unspoken.

“I have to be or you’d use it against me.”

He shrugged his shoulders in agreement, he could only acknowledge the merit of my argument without words. I could call him handsome but it would sooner kill him to say I was right. His eyes fell out over the room and I watched his assessment, felt it, like they were Madja’s working hands. He lingered on the bookshelf.

“I’ll drop my shield too.”

“You don’t have to do that. I’m sure it's annoying, feeling what I feel.”

He shook his head.

“When did it start?” I asked. How much had I revealed of myself? When could he begin to know precisely how much I was feeling?

“The moment he cut into you your shields dropped.”

In the river, I’d had that surge of power, like it had come from somewhere else. If he’d been with Eris he might have seen it, might have… I don’t know how this worked between us. If he could even do such a thing. But stranger things had happened, mates were always surprising.

“Here,” Lucien said. He didn’t wait for me to give a definitive answer. At once there was a second weight of feeling in the place where the thread belonged. He watched me register it, those feelings of guilt and grief, before the core of it warmed significantly to something kinder.

“Now we’ll both be vulnerable and we can see what the other will do with it.”

I said nothing. I knew what he meant, to see what we’d do with it. Would we wield it against each other, in argument, in our real lives if they ever came back which I suspected they would. We’d revert back to ourselves in some ways with this information, vying to have power over each other like always. To know each other like we did, that could be leveraged.

This was power of a different kind, to hold that vulnerability in my chest, to know he held my own. This was not a separate giving and taking, it was a power we had together.

“Alright. So long as you don’t brood too often.”

Lucien’s face softened and it was hard to get used to, the feelings that seemed to exist outside and yet within. A twinge of amusement had come from his chest to mine. Then suddenly admiration, then grief which settled itself more readily, like it had been there so long it knew where to go. It was like getting used to a second heartbeat in echo with your own.

“Sorry.” He said knowingly. I wondered if my face showed the pain of it, or his chest. “If things get too somber I'll shield.”

“Don’t.”

Even if we never mated, there was a chance now to come to terms with what was between us in a way I had never considered to want. I was asking my court to change, and so too it was only fair that I did, if only in the smallest of ways. I don’t know what would become of us, what that looked like, but regardless in order to change there had to be newness, I had to see Lucien in a way different from how we’d been.

“I’m sorry about my brother,” I said.

“I can more readily sympathize with him having seen the state of you. I don’t know what I’d do if I were him. I don’t think I’d have hesitated.”

He detached himself the longer he spoke. The image I didn’t doubt took shape in his mind, informing his sympathy, deepening it.

“You’re not your father.”

His grief was overwhelming, but I tried not to show it, tucking away the sincerest version of him I’d ever known. The chandelier overhead swayed like the weight of those words had moved it. The wind howled at the window, a draft then, the shadows deepening but not how they had when I was on the table downstairs.

“Do you feel different?” I dared to ask.

“In what way?”

“I don’t know. When you went into the bond was there anything strange?”

Lucien thought for a moment, his eyes on the ceiling where mine had just been. The bond quieted to a contemplative hum. The thoughts were not so readily available, not at least, how they’d been when we wielded them to wound.

“Nothing was out of place. Does something feel wrong? Should I wake the healer?”

I shook my head. “It’s not like that. I thought maybe you’d feel it too.” Disappointment came and went as I remembered that Lucien would feel it, only after his anxiety stitched itself in my own chest. He stood just a bit and pulled the chair closer to the bed.

“I want to understand.”

“I don’t feel real,” I said my own words hushed. My voice knew I was embarrassed before I did. “It would have never occurred to me to do half of what I’ve done tonight. I don’t even think I would have imagined it, imagined you and me…but it’s happening right?”

“It is.”

“I thought so.”

A wave of fear powerful enough for Lucien to feel moved through me. He shifted with it in his seat, leaning forward his elbows on his knees. “What are you afraid of?”

I blinked a few times. There was no amusement, no teasing. Just a genuine question between us, rare and new. I wasn’t sure I wanted to say the answer. I hadn’t been well versed in being honest with him, it went against my instincts.

“It’s stupid.”

“You’re never stupid about anything.”

For the first time all night, I hoped he felt the gratitude that wove itself within me. “Something changed between us out there. I’m afraid to find out what it is.”

On the nightstand was a glass of water. Lucien reached for it and passed it over to me, our fingers brushing. I hadn’t realized how dry my throat was, how crackling my voice had become, like a fireplace, like the embers. I drank it but a softness in my throat remained, words seemed less solid than ever before. My only true weapon.

He took the glass and set it down before saying, “do you remember in the Day Court when the bond snapped?”

I nodded.

“At dinner, we’d been sat next to each other and we started going at it. Who knows what it was about. You were wearing a rather racy dress, might I add. Golden, like sunlight—starlight, and it exposed your whole back which you’d had facing me the whole time until our fight forced us to excuse ourselves. In the library after a good 15 minutes, you said to me, if you should find a female dim enough to bed you we can only hope the offspring don’t inherit their parent's lack of intelligence.”

His face didn’t change, but he looked different when he began to speak. I felt nothing down the bond, perhaps only greater emotions managed their way through, but the more he spoke the warmer he got even though I couldn’t say what feature of his had shifted to reveal it.

“It snapped after you said that, like you’d dared the Cauldron somehow. And all that we quarreled over, the reason we’d left to begin with vanished from our minds and clearly since has not returned. Something new had happened, things had changed.”

The moral of the story had been delivered in its unassuming way. The old goes, we forget about what happened, we move on to other things. It was of enough comfort to me that I began to grow tired.

“We’ll figure things out just as we always have.” He said and I recalled that flex of his hand, the warmth of him around my wrist when he’d gasped for air. I’d supported his weight just a fraction, but it had been so warm. My breath began to pick up, just a little, and I shifted in the bed closer to the edge he occupied. I extended my hand.

“You can hold it,” I said so quietly as if we were teenagers at the mercy of chaperones and fae hearing. I said he could hold it, but really I was asking him to. I felt his watching me, so keenly. It wouldn’t have taken the bond for him to know what I meant, he always managed to before.

Lucien hesitated in a way he had not earlier when he’d tucked my hair behind my ear. It's any wonder what sort of instinctual behavior came with his mating bond, how he’d felt so comfortable to be tender whereas now the confidence had evaporated. Regardless, it was a short hesitation. He slipped his fingers delicately underneath my palm and I found the new warmth of him engulfing me was already familiar.

My eyes felt heavy then. I nearly suspected a sleeping drought in the water. “And will things be different tomorrow? Back to normal?”

“I should think so, yes.” He hesitated as if waiting for my reaction but it didn't bother me. Not at least now.

“I was scared of that but I no longer am.”

He spoke softly like a breeze, his words ghostly, scarcely there. “It doesn’t have to be the same forever.”

“No. I don’t want things to be.” I said unsure of what that meant, of the future we spoke of and how it looked. I could scarcely imagine much else between us, even as the once wretched male managed to be comforting, sincere. Down the thread between us, I felt something close to endearment, but it was new, tentative. Then it shifted, it became lukewarm.

“I had wanted to get to you first,” Lucien said his stare once again taking on that greater distance, somewhere out of my reach. A heavy grief set itself between us. “That was the plan, but I didn’t get there.”

I squeezed his hand. I hoped it would be an anchor like he was to the real world just a few hours ago downstairs. I wanted to bring him back here, to bring him back to the dawn, to this story where we now sat together in a sincerity of our making.

“With matters like this,” I said as his eyes found their way back to mine. “The last male left is usually the better.”

I don’t know if he was convinced, but his shoulders sagged a fraction, and it appeared that was enough. He squeezed my hand back.

“Sleep, I’ll stay here as long as I’m able.”

I nodded and he did not leave, not even when I closed my eyes or when I opened them again a few hours later and he told me to sleep again. Even though the light was brighter and morning seemed in full and silent swing. When I woke for the day, however, he was nowhere to be seen. The chair was back against the wall, like nothing had changed at all.

#This is meant to be 4-5 parts #I don't remember much of the intricacies of the ACOTAR universe with mating bonds #or the politics #I just like the characters and that lay of the land and am in the process of rereading #I wrote a lot of day dreams with Lucien so I thought it would be fun to share while I figured out how to write fiction #lucien vanserra #self insert #acotar #lucien acotar #lucien fanfic #lucien x reader #lucien x you #sjm books #night court #that is all #acotar fanfiction #acotar fandom

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viviane-lefay · 6 months ago

Text

AU for Dagan & Santari

… because I absolutely can't accept how things turned out for them - therefore, I made my own, preferred scenario for them.

I’m not much of a writer, I’m afraid, and I don’t have much experience in storytelling, so this text will mostly be of a descriptive nature, like a plot, if you will - with some parts in between where I comment on certain aspects, sharing my opinion on them. It’s a bit chaotic, but please bear with me. ^^;;

Of course this is just my headcanon, based on my take on these characters & their relationship (more about that here & here), as well as my personal preferences. I mainly wrote this for myself, after all – and, hopefully, some like-minded others.

Anyway, please be nice! If you like it, then that is great - even if you only like some parts … just pick whatever resonates with you. And if you don't - please keep that to yourself, ok!?

Here's (roughly, for now) what I had in mind:

~*~

From what is shown in the game, there is no information about what happened to Santari after she left Koboh.

What if she, after she realized that Zee failed her mission, and there was no one left to release Dagan from his stasis (who would likely remain like this for a prolonged period of time), put herself in a stasis too, linked in duration to his (and, hence, didn't die), because ...

she just couldn't let go of him like this, refusing to give up on believing in him

but also felt that he needed to make a decision for himself, which path to choose undistractedly, and therefore didn't go to release him herself (which he, unfortunately, misinterpreted as yet another abandonment upon his release by Cal - but, then again, he was still traumatized by her turning on him during their last encounter).

Since she left Koboh for good with the remaining ships, it struck me as rather odd that, in the game, you can find her lightsaber hidden in a chest there, located in a sealed passageway.

Why is it on this very planet, of all places!? Shouldn't it rather be in her latest location? Or did she even leave it there on purpose?

Knowing of the significance of the saber for the Jedi, as well as the importance to never lose it (“This weapon is your life.” - Obi-Wan, Ep. II), it makes me wonder if she left behind the life of a Jedi, and just remained a scientist. Since being a Jedi was such an important part of her life, this must have been a very profound decision to make, and maybe even a sacrifice for something of even greater importance to her.

Frankly, her complete disregard for the Jedi council's decision, as well as her further plans, make it pretty clear where her true loyalties and priorities lie - and it's not the Jedi order in this case.

You can see that illustrated very well in the game, when she refuses to turn him in, disobeying a direct order by the council by doing so - which, in itself, is already a huge crime, given his actions and how powerful and dangerous he is. Then, she keeps what happened to Dagan a secret, hides him from them, plotting for him to get away with it all and reach his goals nonetheless.

That she also plans to reunite with him after he is released from stasis indeed raises the question of her potentially having left the order – because to them he is a wanted criminal now – and it would make no sense if she lead him into a trap when she had already put in so much effort into his protection. Imho, her leaving because she chose the man she loves over the Jedi order is definitely the most likely explanation.

That she turned on him in the end is not because of his open rebellion against the order, or his plans regarding Tanalorr - after all she rebelled in her own way, albeit in a more subtle, hidden manner. Her and his goals were the same … the means, however, weren't.

And that is exactly where the problem is - the way he went about it - especially with him turning to the dark side.

She was clearly desperate, terrified to lose him because of this, and tried to stop him for that very reason. She wanted to prevent him from going further down that road.

Ironically, he wasn't able to see that, and, of all things, it was her (perceived) betrayal first and foremost, that caused his actual fall, and further descent after being released from stasis.

Her severing his arm was a complete kneejerk reaction, borne out of her despair, and I’m inclined to believe that it weighed quite heavily on her, and would haunt her from then on.

In the flashback scene you can clearly tell how distressed she is, inside, despite her somewhat level-headed demeanor. How she immediately rushes to him and holds him, calling out for help. Only after he's fallen unconscious, she gives vent to her feelings, doubles over and cries (you can't see her face, but it's fairly obvious that she does).

Aside from the arm issue, their confrontation was quite faltering anyway. You could really tell that neither wanted to do this, let alone hurt the other.

Especially with him, this becomes evident, given what he did to the other Jedi who opposed him, and what he is capable of, combat skills - wise. (I'm sure, Santari is proficient with her lightsaber, but she's not a warrior, like him, who is renowned for his outstanding skills as a duelist. She would have lasted some time, I'll grant her that, but not for long.) Instead he just shoves her away via the force, and also just lightly.

~*~

Anyway, here’s a description of one of the key scenarios I had in mind:

After awakening from her stasis and coming to terms with the historic changes that have taken place, galaxy-wide, Santari prepares for her return to Koboh. Once there, she keeps a low profile, as not to catch too much attention, and to just gather information on the recent happenings there. Troubled by what she learned, she decides to act instead of taking a more passive, observant approach, as she planned earlier.

She barely made it to the observatory in time to interrupt the fight between Dagan, Cal, and Bode, that had just started.

Her sudden appearance unfortunately heated up the situation any further, throwing the already upset Dagan into complete turmoil.

She tried to reason with him, but he was too caught up in his feelings of betrayal, and the version of reality he had so carefully constructed to endure and justify everything, that he just wouldn’t hear her out – not before Tanalorr was secured.

But he would not attack her. After all that had happened between them, he still did not hate her. Anger, yes, resentment for her actions, but hate ... he couldn't bring himself to feel that way towards her - and never would.

Instead, he quickly redirected his rage towards Cal again, and the fight resumed, more furious than before.

Bode, who was getting impatient, inserted himself at some point by starting to fire shots from his blaster at Dagan in quick succession, which were all blocked, but one. Normally, this wouldn't have been a challenge for Dagan, but the whole situation with Santari had thrown him off balance, and he lacked his usual poise.

The damage was but minor, but it jolted not only Dagan awake again, but also Santari, who had been watching the scenario unfold in grief-stricken numbness.

Seeing their chance, Cal and Bode started a coordinated attack from different directions.

This time, he would have been able to both parry Cal's blows, as well as deflect Bode's shots, but an alarmed Santari rushed behind him to block the blaster shots, just in the moment as he spun around and set out to do so himself.

It happened too fast even for him, too unexpected, and the moment was already over before the realization about what had occurred crept in. He could only watch in dismay as his blade struck her, see her falter and fall, only to be caught by him, just before she would hit the ground, and hear himself crying out her name, holding her seemingly lifeless body in his arms, as the world zeroed in on her and her mere existence, and a wave of mind-numbing pain and regret washed over him.

As he holds her close, he notices that she is still breathing, albeit weakly, and thus still alive, despite her serious injury. Desperate to save her, he carefully picks her up and sets out in a rush to carry her to the nearest medical facility.

Just as he got up, an incensed and clearly impatient Bode steps in his way and shouts at him, demanding the compass, which at the time is still in Dagan’s possession.

Aware that any further delay would come at the cost of Santari’s life, Dagan, who is beyond caring at this point, snatches the compass from his belt and dismissively tosses it in Bode’s direction, before storming off.

~*~

Frankly, in his case I think a profound shock such as this is necessary to snap him out of his rather set thought- and behavioural patterns and to truly make him question his actions.

It is also important that it was Dagan, of all people, to strike her down, and not her being hit by an attack by Bode or Cal. If it had been the latter, it wouldn’t have had such a transformative effect on him in the way the proposed scenario did, as it would have just provided an opportunity for him to further project onto others, and to redirect his anger towards his opponents any further.

Accidentally hurting the woman he loves, himself, with no one else to lay the blame on, would finally be the catalyst for him to shift his focus inwards and recognize the error of his decisions and actions - that it was his own pride and obstinacy that led to this outcome - and then to take accountability.

Above all I want him to realize (or rather remember) that he loves Santari more than anything in the universe, that he would do anything for this woman, and would gladly sacrifice anything for her - be it Tanalorr, his pride, any other ambition of his, whatever the cost - that all these things are meaningless without her, and that he is willing to forego it all, if only she is alive and well.

Basically, I want them to have this "reverse anidala" theme, where the man's love for the woman, and his strong attachment to her, instead of spelling his doom, ultimately is the key factor that saves him from the dark side, initiating a profound transformation within him, which also leads to his redemption arc.

You know, in Star Wars foreshadowing (especially via dialogue) has always been a huge theme. More often than not, there was a deeper meaning hidden somewhere, which would become evident during the course of the story.

A prime example of this is Obi-Wan's remark to Anakin: "Why do I get the feeling that you're going to be the death of me?", or when Anakin says to Padmé: "The thought of not being with you - I can't breathe." These are all allusions to things that have not yet come to pass, but eventually will.

In Dagan's case, this one line, spoken to Santari in a Force Echo, really stood out to me as such a potentially prophetic statement:

"You're the only one who can guide me back."

In the scene itself they were talking about Dagan's perilous mission to fly into the Koboh Abyss. I found the choice of name for this nebula quite interesting on a symbolic level, as the word "abyss” (which, in myth, was a term used to describe the underworld, and even the hellish realms - a dark and dreadful place) could very well stand as a perfect analogy for the dark side, and getting lost therein.

As we saw, Santari’s betrayal and her loss of course had been a major factor in his fall, there is no deying that (for instance, we see that this particular memory was the crucial one to truly complete the bleeding of his lightsaber’s kyber crystal).

In the game's canon, however, we are merely confronted with a missed opportunity. There was no Santari anymore - she was long since gone - so he had to deal with this ultimate loss on top of his already existing trauma, and all that was left for him was to cling like a madman to the only remaining thing that had a connection to her, which was Tanalorr. And it was pretty clear that his emotional ties to Santari were a pivotal aspect of his obsession with this planet.

So, in my AU I want to explore what would have happened, if Dagan had been given that chance, and Santari would have been there, after all, "guiding him back" - or rather her being the catalyst for him, to give him the hope and strength to walk this path himself, as it actually is his love for her that truly guides him back:

That this would be possible is pretty much a given, as there were other characters that were way further gone, darkside-wise, than he was, that also turned back to the light - prime example being Anakin Skywalker, of course.

(The original) Star Wars has always been all about hope, faith, and making the seemingly impossible possible – at its core it has always been deeply optimistic, with a firm belief in and emphasis on the good in mankind. If you're looking for nihilist, cynical portrayals and outcomes ... sorry, wrong universe. (If that is the shit you want, then try Game of Thrones, ffs!)

No one believed that Anakin could be saved, except for Luke, and Padmé, who expressed her unwavering faith in Anakin's innate goodness and his ability turn back with her dying breath.

More cynical minds would probably say that both Luke's, and Padmé's judgements were clouded by their feelings for Anakin - except that this wasn't the case - quite the opposite, in fact.

As for Padmé - she might not have been able to acknowledge the warning signs of his imminent fall in the moment, but she certainly felt that something troubling was going on. However, concerning the nature of his being, her perception couldn’t have been any more accurate.

After all it was her, who had this profound and intimate connection to him, who knew him better and deeper than anyone else, and, for that very reason, was able to perceive something in him that the others just couldn't. And she was a woman with a sharp mind and common sense, and her reasoning was absolutely sound.

And, yes, she was vindicated in the end!

I see that very much mirrored in Santari, her unwavering faith in Dagan, and her unwillingness to give up on him.

Here's her expressing her conviction in a force echo scene, that took place after her confrontation with Dagan, and right after he was put in the bacta tank:

"The council may have given up on you, but I know who you truly are, Dagan. Even if you yourself have forgotten..."

Of course she knows! It has been hinted at in the game multiple times that these two have known each other for a long time, are very, very close, and share a deep bond based on mutual trust, amongst other things. So, this conviction of hers is very much built on the fact that she knows him better, deeper, and more intimately than anyone else - that she knows things about him that no one else knows, has seen a side of him that no one else has ever seen. That she is the only one able to see him truly as the way he is, and is, therefore, the only one able to make a sound judgement of him and what he is capable of - or isn't.

This woman is anything but a sentimental fool, not only is she a fucking genius, she also possesses great wisdom, discernment, patience, and self-control, so, of course, there is substance to her claims, regardless of the fact that she is in love with him.

~*~

That said, I’ll now continue to describe the scenario for my AU:

Cal had been watching everything unfold with conflicting emotions, and he could not deny that the tragic turn of events on his opponent’s side affected him.

Ever since he saw them together in the force echoes, Cal has always had his suspicions about the true nature of the feelings the two Jedi harboured for each other, and now he saw the undeniable truth right in front of his eyes.

As much as he resented Dagan’s previous actions - seeing this proud man so broken and forlorn, clasping the lifeless form of his lost love to his bosom, he could not help but empathize with him, being all too familiar with love and loss himself.

It did impress him no less to see Dagan, moments later, relinquish the key to Tanalorr - to his discovery, his home, his ambitions, and his great obsession - without a moment’s hesitation, as not to lose time for saving his beloved.

At the same time, Bode’s behaviour in this situation filled him with indignation. How was this any better than Dagan’s previous conduct towards them!? It was not. If anything, it was just as unscrupulous, and that was not how he wanted to be, or to act.

Maybe it was his sense of justice, maybe it was a surge of sympathy, maybe both, that made him turn and go after Dagan, who had just disappeared through the door.

Even so, his sudden reappearance, was met by a furious glare by Dagan who was in no mood to tolerate any further delays, not believing Cal’s claim of only wanting to help. So Cal just prompted BD-1 to act, who immediately understood and administered the last health stim in his possession to Santari, who indeed seemed to show a response.

Dagan, who was too caught up in his concern for Santari just shot him a glance, before rushing off again. However short it had been, the surprise and relief in his eyes had still been visible - as well as a hint of gratitude, or so Cal believed.

From behind, Bode urged him to leave, but he refused, saying he would follow later. He needed time to reflect.

As he made his way back down, hours later, walking through the corridors, he passed by the medical ward. He stopped and stood there, wondering what had become of Santari - if his help had made any difference, however small, even if it meant that she just barely made it, and if, at this point, she was still alive after all.

With a mixture of curiosity and concern, he entered the hallway that led to the examination room. The door was still left open and he slowly made his way to the front, so he could catch sight of what was going on inside.

On the surgery couch, connected to a device that was monitoring her vital parameters, there was a still unconscious, but alive Santari.

Inclined towards her, Dagan was sitting by her side, lost in thought, holding her hand in his remaining one, his eyes fixated on the delicate features of the woman in front of him. His expression was full of sorrow and longing, yet above it all there was a deep affection gracing his handsome face, displaying a tenderness, Cal wouldn’t have associated with him before.

How long had he been watching over her like this, Cal wondered. Night had almost passed, and the horizon was already lighting up in a faint violet.

Daring not to interrupt the scene, he slowly turned, moving as silently as he could, when a deep voice, lowly but firmly, commanded him to wait. He did not know how and when, but somewhere along the line Dagan must have taken notice of his presence.

He again turned to face the Jedi master, who sat still, immovable, in his spot. Even now, as Dagan spoke on, his gaze remained, dwelling upon his beloved.

“When she was examined, I was informed, that it was your medicine that had made a difference, after all. Without it, I would have lost her.”, he concluded, his voice raw with unexpressed emotion. A moment of silence followed, an indrawn breath.

“Thank you!”

Although greatly humbled by the previous events, it must not have easily passed his lips … and yet, he seemed to feel the need to express this to him. A declaration so simple, as it was powerful, genuine, heartfelt.

Cal could appreciate that, inquiring if there was a chance she might make it now that her condition had stabilized at last.

Dagan nodded, ascertaining that until then, he would remain by her side and keep vigil over her quiescent state, waiting for a sign, however long it would take.

In case she woke again, he expressed his hopes that, should they meet again, may this be on better terms than their past encounters.

In case she did not … he paused with a pained expression, briefly closing his eyes, before continuing … then this should now be his bidding him a final farewell.

Cal, understanding the unspoken message, dared not pursue the question any further, and instead agreed expressly to Dagan’s sentiment regarding better future relations, before taking his leave.

Still deep in thought, he returned to his friends, who were already waiting for him at the Mantis, ready to take off for Jedha.

For Dagan, a long vigil remained, that would last another night and day, hours of uncertainty and doubt wearing on in a gruellingly slow pace.

In the silence that surrounded him, the voices in his mind kept on howling all the louder, seized with remorse, confronting him with every decision he made, every action he took - that ultimately led to this result, that he now realized were wrong - in an unceasing and damning judgement.

“If she dies, it is your fault!”, they would scream, and he knew there was nothing he could say to deny their allegations, that lessened his guilt in this matter even for one bit. That was the hardest thought to bear – that it was him, his pride, his obstinacy, and impatience, who had brought about this misery, him, of all people, who hurt her – the one he loved the most.

At this point, the voices that wondered about the “what if”s and “what could have been”s chimed in, telling him the tantalizing tale of chances lost, and all the roads not taken. If only he had listened to her …

At last, a breathed sigh that signalled her waking pulled him out of his thoughts, after a time that felt like an eternity, spent in his personal purgatory.

Her eyelids slowly fluttered open to reveal the soft brown gaze that he so often had lost himself in, that he was again losing himself in in this very moment. With quivering lips, he uttered her name, his voice shaky and raw.

Her mouth silently forming the syllables of his name in response, and the accompanying expression, the longing he felt mirrored in her eyes, were enough to push him over the edge.

A sudden, hot wave of emotion overtook him and before he knew, their lips were locking, and he was kissing her with a desperate, fervent hunger he had not known before – not like this.

When he finally let go, his eyes were moist, and two rivulets of tears, shed out of relief and regret in equal measure, were trickling down his face. His heart was screaming and pleading her to forgive him, but the words just barely escaped his mouth. Dainty fingers reached up and softly brushed his cheek, concern and understanding in her eyes.

Just as he set on to speak again, she just lightly shook her head and pulled him in once more.

Slender arms wound tightly around his broad shoulders, and her hands delved deep into the silver masses of his hair, silken strands between her fingers.

His own remaining arm gently slid behind her back, supported by his force-conjured limb, to pull her up and close, always careful not to put too much pressure on her still fragile and healing form. Still, his hand was clutching the fabric of her tunic so hard it was almost shaking, clinging to her with the urgency of a drowning man.

As short and intense their previous kiss was, it was merely a prelude to the additional sweetness and depth of the one they shared now. She yielded under his touch like delicate flower petals under the rain, sinking back into the crook of his arm, as his lips were bearing down on hers with the full weight and ardour of the love he could not contain anymore.

After what seemed like ages, and yet too soon, their lips slowly parted, softly grazing, catching and releasing each other in feverish zeal in between, reluctant to let go.

They would remain, tightly entangled in their embrace, for a long while, trying to steady themselves, their breath still shaky from their madly racing heart. Trying to make up for the loss of his hand, that would have come up to rest at her face at this point, he inclined, giving her nose a gentle nudge with his own.

Santari, who knew the mannerisms of her beloved like no other, picked up his unspoken intention. Memories came welling up, unbidden, in a wave of guilt and regret that had never left her since their altercation on the Shattered Moon, overtaking her mind and finding their final release in a strangled sob, with her own heart begging for a forgiveness it would never grant itself, but knew it was already given by the one her plea was directed towards.

Like an answer, his cheek came to rest against hers, and their tears mingled, building bit by bit into a torrent, running in silence, until one of them finally rose to speak.

And there was so much to speak about, so much that they had to tell each other, that finally had to be said.

As they talked, they made their way up again, towards the top level of the observatory, with Santari leaning on Dagan for support, who had wrapped his arm around her in a protective manner, steadying her, attending her along the way, walking slowly, carefully.

When they arrived, the sun was nearing the horizon, painting the sky in a gradient of fire, that, itself, was fading into the darkening blue of the falling night, wherein the most luminous stars were already glimmering, scattered across the celestial landscape.

They sat down in the spot they so often had frequented once, two centuries in the past, gazing at the starlit sky, dreaming together. His arm remained, tightly wound around her and she sank into his embrace again, as he patiently, intently listened to her, before it was his turn again to speak, in an exchange that would yet become hours of unburdening their hearts.

It was already deep into the night when Dagan’s exhaustion eventually made itself known, getting the better of him after his prolonged, untiring vigil without rest. So, they laid down, snuggled up to each other on their makeshift bed under the stars, heads rested on his cloak, turned into a pillow for them both, and under Santari’s loving and watchful gaze, he finally allowed himself to drift off to sleep – this time, with her keeping guard over him instead.

He woke to her humming, the caressing, feathery touch of her fingers running through his hair, and a smile as warm as the rays of the midday sun that now stood at its zenith in the sky. She was still in the same position she occupied last night, concerned not to rouse him all too early, but also not entirely willing to remove herself from his embrace either, savouring the languid hours of a morning slept-in in the arms of her love, something they were but seldomly granted to do in the past, watching the expression of serenity and peace gracing his exquisitely fair face.

She already felt better, invigorated even, and so did Dagan, who had regained his usual strength after his long overdue night’s rest.

Both agreed that it was now time for them to leave and they set out for the landing platform on which Santari’s ship was stationed.

The ship was an old relic from a bygone era, that Dagan immediately recognized as his own, that, despite its age and traces of usage, had served him well during his countless expeditions, bearing him to many faraway places, just as it now had borne her here.

So, instead of choosing a new one, she took his old ship and made it her own, just as he had planned to do with her droid. He could not help but chuckle at the thought.

Granted, it was an elegant vessel, with its streamlined form, and tasteful, spacious interior, that in its day had its use as the private transport of some aristocrat – at least that is what the previous owner had told him. What most stood out about it, though, was its great maneuverability and speed, that even time and use did not diminish – qualities that, aside from his own outstanding capabilities as a pilot, carried him through the Abyss and back again.

Whereto would it carry them now?

That was the one question that still remained. Where did they go now, without a home to return to!?

But the answer was - it did not matter – truly, it never did. All he knew and all that did matter now, was that he could go anywhere, anyplace, as long as she was with him. His true and only home was her - the home he could not live without, the home that he never wanted to be parted from again.

As he expressed these sentiments to her, he gave in to the thought that had been occupying his mind during the lonesome hours of his vigil, a rekindled dream of yore.

He took a step back, all the while keeping his eyes locked on hers and his gaze, strangely intense, took on an almost imploring quality. Like this, he remained for a moment, his breath shaky, then he sank to his knee, finally daring to ask the once forbidden question that had long since been burning in his heart.

With a gasp of disbelief and recognition, her eyes widened …

It had been a secret dream of theirs, something they once had wondered about - she remembered it like yesterday - born in a blissful moment, as they lay in each other’s arms, snuggled together after lovemaking and immersed in the other’s eyes, exchanging drowsy kisses every now and again, they were envisioning what life would have been like for them together if they were no Jedi, dreaming up a possible scenario … just a woman and a man, bound by no other vows but the one that tied them together as one.

And they would go on - imagining the home they would have built and shared together, a small sanctuary just for the two of them - until they drifted off to sleep, only to wake up again in the life they had - the life of a scientist and a knight of the order, and a love lived in secrecy. Because that was all it was – just a fond wish, a lovely fantasy far beyond their grasp. Tanalorr was the closest they got, and yet it had been taken from them.

But now … times had changed - the order was gone, the Jedi but few, their doctrine a mere relic of the past, and they were free – free to do whatever they pleased – a second chance to try and seize, but even now she would not have dared to believe, to hope, he would be so bold and act – to actually ask her – and yet here they were.

Too overwhelmed to speak, she just stood there for a moment, her hand cupped over her quivering lips, gulping back a sob, before she fell down into his arms, finally blurting out the answer he so longed to hear. With a deep sigh of relief, betraying how tense and nervous he must have felt, he pulled her close and kissed her in his characteristic, passionate manner that always made her knees go weak.

~*~

Frankly, I don't think the assumption that they might have these desires is all that unreasonable, considering they had this dream of a shared home, that was at the core of their overarching plans of building a temple, and achieving great things for the order.

This is especially strong with Dagan … first of all – because it is mentioned by him in the game (along with other things being heavily implied).

When he bleeds his kyber crystal, his voice takes on an increasingly agitated tone, finally peaking when he refers to Tanalorr as “my home” - not his project, his contribution to the order, but his home - and then, when he mentions Santari’s betrayal, everything explodes.

Of course, you also, if not especially, need to consider his formative years as a slave on Arkania (at least how I imagine them to be like), and the influence these had on his needs and desires.

So, why should marrying the woman he loves not be one of these desires!? Maybe not of Dagan the knight, with his lofty and noble ambitions, but of Dagan the man, carrying this wish in his most secret heart.

It definitely sounds like something he would want, and actually act upon once he sees a chance – after all, he’s a very emotionally passionate person, prone to follow his heart’s desire, as well as his instincts more than anything else (just like Anakin), and someone who doesn’t give a f*** about conventions (also very much like Anakin, who also happens to be not the only Jedi ever to have tied the knot, btw – it is said there have always been some to have done this despite the “rules”).

Imho, he’d totally dig this idea of the completely committed nature of marriage, this absolute and unbreakable bond, as well as showing Santari his undying love and devotion this way. And the fact, that it’s very much an official thing – even better! The whole galaxy has to know, too!

As for Santari … I think her sentiments are absolutely the same, but she’s, of course, more the sober-minded and patient one, but not any less strong-willed, nor any less stubborn and defiant than him, if she truly wants something, mind you - it’s just that her nature allows her to act in a far more subtle manner.

One thing is certain - their actions have more than proven that their priorities and loyalties lie, first and foremost, with each other, and no one else!

Ultimately, I feel, getting married is such a great choice for them, because of their bond that runs so deep - a love that is not only profound and strong, but also enduring - and the magnitude of their attachment that is already present.

Sealing this bond in marriage - while being of singular personal importance to them, of course - would only be a symbolic act, in the end, to make said bond visible to the outside world. So, regarding their status as force user and Jedi, it would hardly have any relevance, as the attachment is already there anyway, as I said.

[ Btw, I can’t stand the attitude that emotional commitment and attachment has to be this exclusively negative thing, with predominantly negative consequences. It is said to only lead to the dark side, but, Imho, there is so much potential for the positive in these bonds – if only they can be channeled in a favourable direction.

Only a bond as deep and as powerful as this would be able to produce the emotional impulse of a magnitude strong enough to tear someone away from the grasp of the dark side for good, as was seen with Anakin. I’m actually more than a little surprised that this fact gets overlooked so constantly. Shame!

Besides - as if Jedi hooking up, sleeping around and just leaving with unfazed detachment because “muh rules”, even becoming deadbeat dads in the process, is any better … WTF! And no, producing force sensitive children and potential initiates for the order is no excuse. Ugh, I hate this argument! Whoever must have come up with that must have been a massive fuckboy…

Dagan definitely isn’t such a guy – quite the opposite, in fact!

Good that Luke got rid of that stupid mindset and rule! After all, his father fell, to a significant degree, just because of it. And I wonder how many Jedi did as well, who remain unmentioned – let alone the hearts that got broken because of it. ]

Maybe Tanalorr was the attempt to reconcile these two sides (the two Jedi versus the man and the woman), and make this dream, which he shared with Santari, a reality.

And, of course, "what happens in the Temple on Tanalorr stays in the Temple on Tanalorr", as I read somewhere. ;)

~*~

Some hours later, they were off, heading to Coruscant, leaving Koboh behind for a while, to accomplish what they had planned to do.

At Santari’s urging, they made a stopover at the nearest medical center, for Dagan to finally get a cybernetic replacement for his lost arm. Still full of remorse over what happened on the Shattered Moon base, she felt unable to find any peace of mind until at least the visible signs of the damage, that her saber had wrought, were undone. Dagan, who still felt the pain of his own regret as acutely, perceived her sorrow despite her composed demeanor, drew her in his still one-armed embrace, and tried to cheer her up, voicing his support of the idea, as it would enable him to hold her again like he used to. The prospect, as well as the disarming nonchalance in which it was stated, the playful smirk and the twinkle in his eye, still managed to conjure a smile on her face.

When they returned to Koboh two weeks later, now a married couple, they first made a visit to Pyloon’s Saloon, to look for Zee, as Santari had learned of her whereabouts after her initial arrival on the planet, and was looking forward to meet her old assistant, hoping for her to join them again – especially after the restoration of her memory.

Just as they wanted to enter the saloon, the Mantis emerged in the skies and landed on its usual place on the platform – Cal, Merrin, Greez, and Kata disembarked and came their way.

Cal, who was still reeling from Bode’s betrayal and loss, a downcast and sombre expression darkening his face, lightened up a little at their sight, seeming almost glad to see them.

Once inside, they were about to exchange greetings, still a little tense despite their recently changed, now more amicable relations, when Zee, who had recognized their voices from above, rushed down to greet them, only to be brought up short at the sight of Dagan, of whom she took note with no little bewilderment and shock, the memory of their last encounter still present in her mind.

But when the delicate figure, that clung to his side, his arm gently placed around her, turned her head in Zee’s direction and was immediately recognized as her old master, she came heading towards her in exuberant spirits, an overjoyed exclamation of “Master Khri!” ringing out of her vocalizer, and immediately assailed her with a plethora of questions, inquiring to know about the reason of her sudden appearance, which also aroused the attention of the others in their circle.

Santari explained everything Zee, as well as the others, wanted to know, in her usual calm and patient manner. It was the instant, when she was speaking about Dagan, referring to him as her husband, that took everyone by surprise, and for a moment there was silence.

While it was, by now, known to everyone but Zee, that the bond between Santari and Dagan was one of love (thanks to Cal’s account), none of them had expected the two Jedi to take it a step further and actually wed, in complete defiance of the rules the Order had instilled into them from early on.

Rules that were quickly brought up by the nonplussed droid, who just couldn’t believe her master would ever go against this doctrine - and now seemed so unconcerned about it, happy even, exchanging enamoured glances with her now-husband, who put his affections on display with a boldness that would have made Zee blush, had she been able to.

Curious enough, no one else seemed to have any objections, and, she didn’t know if she read it right, but there seemed to be a subtle note of approval, respect even, colouring the voice of young Cal Kestis, as he joined Merrin in expressing his congratulations to his fellow Jedi.

Following this, the conversation quickly evolved into a discussion about the recent events.

Eventually, they came to the conclusion that it was best to unite regarding the settlement on Tanalorr, as well as the redevelopment of the Jedi temple, and the new directions the teachings should be taken to.

The only matter left to sort out now were the Bedlam Raiders, and what was to happen with them, now that Dagan, their leader, and the only person with enough influence to rein them in, was to depart to Tanalorr.

That is what they were now planning to take care of, before starting their journey together with the others.

Before they set out for the Raiders’ Lucrehulk headquarters, Santari pulled a small device out of her pocket, a data carrier of sorts, and quickly restored Zee’s memory.

Out of consideration, the latter was allowed to wait in the Saloon for their return, instead of joining them on their mission to the place that still held nothing but bad memories for her. Greez, however, was grateful to have someone to help him with the preparations for the upcoming relocation.

~*~

So much for the key part of my AU.

Of course, there is more, but the most important aspect, the big turning point, has been dealt with here.

#please be nice #btw - by keeping certain things to oneself I also mean those intent to argue about the things I write about here #in regards to the validity of my content #again it is my canon and I created it the way I did for a reason - because that is exactly how I want it to be #debates are for real life topics but not for fictional headcanons - these are not up to discussion #again I am looking for like-minded people - not verbal sparring partners - that is literally the ONLY reason I even posted it on here #so can you please respect that and not shit on the little joys one still has left ... it's really not too much to ask for #headcanon #alternate universe #otp #dagan/santari #santari/dagan #daganxsantari #santarixdagan #dagtari #dagan gera #santari khri #star wars #jedi survivor

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