The dawn over Elareth was somber.
Ash still lingered in the air, clinging to the windowsills of half-ruined homes. As Lucien stood at the edge of the town, watching the sun struggle through the haze, he felt that same struggle inside him. Light trying to pierce the remnants of something scorched and broken.
He hadn't slept. Not really. His mind spun with images—of Eiran's hand in his, of the townspeople's hollow eyes, of the flames that had devoured their peace.
And the ache in his chest that refused to be named.
He had loved before. Once. In the world he had left behind, it had been fleeting and unremarkable—like a half-finished song. But this? What he was beginning to feel for Eiran… it terrified him. It was vast, raw, and painfully real.
He knew the story. He knew how it ended.
Villains didn't get to love heroes.
---
Eiran found him before breakfast.
He said nothing at first, simply joining Lucien by the crumbling stone wall. Together, they watched the village slowly wake. A child laughing despite the soot. A mother sweeping ash from her doorstep.
"They still hope," Eiran said quietly.
Lucien nodded. "They always do. Even when they shouldn't."
"You sound like someone who lost hope long ago."
"I did," Lucien replied. "But you're making me remember."
Eiran turned toward him, searching his face. "What are you afraid of, Lucien?"
Lucien didn't answer right away.
Because he didn't know how to explain it—the fear of being known too well. Of being seen not as the man he was trying to become, but as the one he used to be. The villain. The manipulator. The destroyer of fates.
"You," he said finally. "I'm afraid of what you'll see when you finally look at me. Really look."
Eiran's expression didn't change.
"I already see you."
Lucien blinked. "Then why haven't you walked away?"
"Because you haven't given me a reason to."
Silence stretched between them, heavy and strange. Then, Eiran reached out and placed a hand on Lucien's shoulder.
"Let's rebuild this place," he said. "Brick by brick. Hope by hope."
Lucien nodded, his throat tight.
Maybe villains didn't get to love heroes.
But perhaps, if he kept choosing differently—if he kept walking away from fate's script—he could change that too.
---
The week passed in a blur of work.
Together, Lucien and Eiran organized repairs, assigned guards, and spoke to villagers. Lucien noticed how people responded to Eiran—how quickly they trusted him, gravitated toward him. It made sense.
But to his surprise, some of that trust began to extend to him as well.
The butcher who refused to look Lucien in the eye on the first day brought him bread on the fourth. The children who had once fled from his shadow now waved from behind broken fences.
And one night, as Lucien helped carry a wounded elder into the makeshift clinic, the man whispered, "Thank you, my lord. You're not like the stories said."
Lucien froze.
Not like the stories.
He was trying. Truly trying. But deep inside, he wondered if the story would still find a way to end in blood.
---
One evening, as the sky faded into lavender, Eiran asked him to walk beyond the village with him.
They followed the path along the river, past the charred remains of a mill, until they reached a hill where the air felt lighter.
Lucien glanced at Eiran. "You're quieter than usual."
Eiran tilted his head. "I've been thinking."
"Dangerous habit."
"I've been thinking about you."
Lucien's heart stumbled.
"I know you're not ready to tell me everything," Eiran said, "but I want you to know… I don't need every piece to trust you. Not anymore."
Lucien looked away, his voice low. "Even if those pieces are ugly?"
"Especially then."
Lucien swallowed hard. "Why?"
"Because I've seen what you're doing here. I've seen the weight you carry, and how you still choose to fight for people. That's not something a villain does."
Lucien turned to him fully now, the fading sunlight casting gold along Eiran's cheekbones.
"You're making it hard not to fall in love with you," Lucien whispered.
Eiran didn't flinch.
"Then don't."
Their silence was softer now. Charged.
Lucien stepped closer. "If we do this… everything changes."
"I know," Eiran said. "But change is why I started following you."
Lucien smiled—a real, unguarded smile—and Eiran smiled back.
They didn't kiss.
Not yet.
But they didn't need to.
---
That night, as Lucien lay awake under the stars, he allowed himself—for the first time in both his lives—to believe he could deserve something good.
And somewhere deep in the woods beyond Elareth, where no one watched, a shadow stirred.
Red eyes blinked open.
A voice, ancient and cold, whispered, "So the villain resists his fate."
It began to move, slow and deliberate.
"But fate always wins."
---
To be continued...
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