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This was a bad idea. This was such a bad idea. They shouldn’t be on the roof. They shouldn’t be drinking. They definitely shouldn’t be drinking on the roof. And more than that, they shouldn’t have been doing any of it with the Golden Flame. But he had only been back a few days, and the wine was honey sweet, and the sky was clear.
Caska was laughing, harder than she had in a long time. It’s probably the wine, she thought. It had made everything sort of swimmy, and the edges of her vision blurred until Lücan was the only clear thing in view. That fits, the thought came unbidden, he is the only clear thing. My eyes are catching up to me. Dangerous, more so than the height, she knew that despite the wine. Caska shook her head to dislodge the thought. Lücan laughed, reaching out to tug a strand of hair that had fallen into her eyes with the movement.
“What are you doing, Cas? You’re going to make yourself dizzy.” He put his hands on their shoulders, steadying. Caska wanted to lean into his palms.
“You’re making me dizzy,” Caska poked back childishly. Lücan blinked rapidly. I’m not making any sense, Caska could realise that she should probably stop drinking now. This couldn’t go anywhere sensible. In fact, they should probably tell Lücan it was time to turn in. I’m going to have trouble getting through the window, Caska realised. Lücan would probably have to help them. He would have to stand below her and lift her down. Maybe he would put his hands on their waist. Caska realised all at once that she was very warm; all of the heat of the stars seemed to make a new home in her cheeks. And their light had gone to Lücan, it seemed. It was catching off his hair and eyes. He looked backlit, he looked fucking angelic.
“Cas? Are you alright?” The wine had flushed his cheeks. I want to kiss him. For the first time, Caska allowed herself to think what her sober mind was sensible enough to barricade itself against. I want to kiss him. Would he let me? She imagined, for a moment, leaning in. His lips would be soft, and she would find out if his tentative stubble would scratch her cheeks. She wondered if his hands would cup her cheeks, or run through her hair, or wrap around her waist and pull her close. She wanted his hands everywhere. It’s just the wine. It has to just be the wine. I can’t want this. I can’t want this because I can’t have it.
“Cas, you look a bit sick. Should we go in?” Lücan was leaning in, concerned. He lifted a hand and Caska knew if he touched her this night would end in something Auntie Ron would not approve of.
“Just cold.” Her voice was barely there, but he heard her. He was quick to shrug out of his jacket and drape it over their shoulders. Keeping her warm. Caska could pretend that the fabric wasn’t separating them. That it really was the heat of his skin on hers. She was going to feel so stupid in the morning. It wasn't morning yet. Caska turned slowly, so she wouldn’t be looking at his eyes, his lips, (his hands, his hands, his hands) anymore. They felt more dangerous than the drop right now. They leaned back, slow as molasses, to learn their shoulder against his chest. Lücan’s chin dropped down on Caska’s shoulder. She could feel his stubble; it did scratch.
Oh help, help, help. This is hopeless.
They talked irresponsibly late. His voice was low, hers trembled. When they went inside, Lücan did help Caska down from the window, hands at her waist.
“Careful, wouldn’t want to break the future Empress.” He smirked at her, eyes made crescents by mirth. Caska jumped down from the ledge, hovering in the circle of his hands.
“You couldn’t break me, Lücan Serenel.” Lie. His hands, still holding her, flexed and Caska felt like she was going to lose her damn mind. Then he stepped back, and gave a silly sarcastic bow, looking up at her through his pale eyelashes.
“I would not embarrass either of us by trying, my lady.”
“Quite right.” This felt safe, this felt familiar. Her heart felt like it was trying to outrace Hecuba.
Caska left his room feeling uncertain, shaky, and sick. She would forever associate the feeling of a hangover with the act of walking away from Lücan Serenel. They lay in bed until the sun rose, head spinning like they would never sober up. Morning breakfast brought with it a distaste for bright sunlight, a stale mouth, and the news that Lücan was packing to leave. He had a duty to fulfill, after all, they both did.
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Caska was packing. Caska didn’t really want to be packing. Everyone has to do things they don’t want to do, that’s part of duty. You think Aunty Ron has wanted to do half the things she’s done? You think Lücan– Their mind snagged, as it often did, on Lücan Serenel. Their current problem wasn’t actually that new– how do I talk to Lücan? Usually the problem was more along the lines of ‘how do I talk to Lücan without making it stupidly obvious how embarrassingly and uselessly in love with him I am?’ More recently, she was struggling with: ‘how do I talk to Lücan and tell him that I’m leaving to marry someone else… without making the someone else part obvious because then he’ll know how embarrassingly and uselessly in love with him I am?’ Xerxes probably never dealt with this shit.
It doesn’t matter. I just need to tell him. Caska stopped folding and refolding the same pair of trousers. She would go to his room, be honest (but not too honest). They would have to talk around it. But that’s okay. Lücan could always get to the bottom of her promises. She would say that they’re leaving home for a bit to marry the Duke, for political reasons only, and she would be back. Soon. Soon as long as you’re very patient and are keeping busy. He might be mad, he might think it was a terrible, stupid idea (and a voice a little like her own and a little like Carmilla’s screamed, it is a terrible, stupid idea, Caska. What are you doing?). Caska wondered if he would be sad. Maybe he wouldn’t want the marriage to go ahead, because of something other than a sense of protection. A voice that was definitely Carmilla this time scoffed: way to make a guy jealous, Caska. You could have just flirted at a ball, you don’t have to run away and get married. Whatever. That really had nothing to do with anything.
She had been procrastinating too long. The stars were out, winking accusingly at her. Caska’s self-imposed deadline of this very day was coming to a close. Lücan had to know. It didn’t have to be a big deal! Just one super platonic best friend telling the other about the political espionage she was leaving to deal with! Easy.
Caska rolled her shoulders back, set their jaw, and strode out the door. She marched down the halls, all the confidence she didn’t really feel held in her body. Even that twisted up and gave way when she reached to knock on Lücan’s door. Caska, what are you doing? You never knock. Stop being weird, stop second guessing. Just go in there and tell him you’re leaving. And for gods sake, don’t look at his hands. She opened the door.
“You’ve been drinking without me?” The words were out before she had a moment to consider them. That seemed to happen a lot around Lücan, her words tumbling out and putting them on the back foot against him. It was annoying (it was intoxicating). But it was true, the air was thick with the stench of wine… and whiskey… and something else that stung her nose like it was angry.
Lücan was sitting on the edge of his bed, one of the offending bottles caught in a loose grip. He was staring at her like he’d never seen her before. Caska’s stomach lurched uncomfortably. The way he was looking at them… Caska was a child again, waiting in the greeting room in her best gown. Auntie Ron was tight lipped and tense. Everyone knew why. The Golden Flame had been found. He was arriving today. He was going to save them all. Lücan had looked at Caska with this same look that day. His eyes a little too empty, lips about to part to ask ‘what’s happening?’ or ‘why is this happening to me?’ or ‘can I please, please be someone else right now?’ He looked scared, and lost, and like he was looking at someone he knew was going to hurt him.
“Lücan, what’s wrong?” Her plan didn’t matter right now. Not the one to tell him about the marriage, not even the marriage. What mattered was finding out who put that look in Lücan’s eyes, and make them understand exactly what happened to people who fucked with her Golden Flame.
“Were you even going to tell me?” Caska’s heart stuttered. His eyes weren’t empty anymore, they were accusing. “Were you even going to tell me? Or were you just going to be gone one day?”
“Lücan, please, what are you talking about?” This wasn’t happening. He was talking about something else, he had to be. Because Caska had a plan, a script. One that made sure he knew she didn’t want to leave, but not how desperately they didn’t want to leave him. One that edged around the promise with enough room for him to wriggle his way into the truth. And this was way off script.
“Would I have just sat here, waiting for you to come home, until I got the wedding invite?” He spat it out, as if he wanted the words in his mouth as short a time as possible. She knew the feeling.
“Who told you?” Caska was aware it wasn’t what she should be saying. But she had to know, who ruined my plan? My script? Their voice was just a whisper. Any louder and she would be screaming, raging. And that wasn’t Imperial behaviour. Instead they drew an inch higher with a deep breath. Composure, control, calculation… always. “Who told you?” Her voice was stronger.
“Who do you think?” Sometimes when Lücan was very drunk and upset he could make his voice extraordinarily cruel. That had always been directed at other people, battlefield opponents or haughty courtiers or anyone that had slighted Caska. This was new, directed at her, and she didn’t like it. Lücan stood, unsteady on his feet. He swayed towards her, before stumbling away to the windowsill. He braced his hands on the sill, and bowed his head. Caska could see all the tension coiled in his shoulders. “She caught me on the way to your rooms, made sure I wouldn’t distract you.” Caska swayed, lightheaded as if drunk just off the fumes in the room. Is it possible Aunty Ron knew how she… no, they would have said something. They would have helped.
“I wanted to… I was coming here to tell you.”
“How can I believe that?” Caska wished he sounded angry, now he just sounded sad. She wanted to wrap her arms around his chest and press their forehead to his spine, try her best to make him understand how much she would fight for him. “How can I ever ignore that you might just be saying that so I won’t be angry at you?”
“You really think I would do that? Lie to you like that?” Caska’s voice came out thick despite her best efforts.
“I don’t know, Cas.” He still wasn’t fucking looking at her. “You’ve been lying to me for months.” He paused, waited for her to deny it, to say something that would smooth the whole argument over. “All this time… you let me talk about the next time we might be able to sneak away for another picnic with Mio. The next book we’ll read.” Caska’s eye caught on the two matching novels on his desk. She couldn’t read the title from where she still hovered by the door, but they could see acorns and small winged figures embossed on the spine. He had chosen fairy tales for her, because he knew she liked them. A wave of longing swept over Caska so completely that they closed her eyes to combat the feeling. I want to stay here. I want to read those fairy tales and watch Lücan turn the pages. I want to watch him play with Mio. And always… I want to kiss him.
“I know I should have told you sooner.” Her eyes were still closed. This was easier in the dark, when she couldn’t see who she was letting down. “But I didn’t know how. And I guess I didn’t want you to know.”
“Why not?” When she opened her eyes, Lücan had finally turned to look. He was leaning forward, desperate to understand, to make Caska understand. “If you’re okay with this happening, why wouldn’t you want me to know?” He strode towards her. “Caska, if you don’t want this to happen, if she’s making you–” he gestured to the door, to the whole damn palace. “You don’t have to do this, Cas. We can fix it, we can make her–” he was loud. Far too loud. Caska grabbed his arm, tried to reign him in.
“No, Lüc. She’s not making me do anything. This is what needs to happen. It’s what’s best.”
“Best for the Imperium.”
“Of course, Lüc. What else is there?”
“There’s you.” He stepped closer. She could smell bergamot and woodsmoke under the wine. “There’s your life and how you want to live it. Not the Empress of the Imperium. For Caska.”
“We cannot be making decisions for just 'Caska'–”
“I never said ‘just, there’s no ‘just’ about you.”
Caska couldn’t tell if her heart was pounding because of the argument, or what he was saying, or just how close he was standing. It took them a moment to place the words. Years ago, when he had cried and admitted how much it hollowed him out to be treated like ‘just the Golden Flame’. Caska had held his face, told him there was no ‘just’ about Lücan Serenel, her Golden Flame.
“This has to happen, Lüc.” Caska kept her voice firm, Imperial. She couldn’t slip now. Too much was at stake for her to lose her head over the Golden Flame standing close enough to kiss. She should be above this. “For the good of the–”
He didn’t let her finish, stepping back and burying his face in his hands with a groan. “Cut the bullshit, Cas. I know there’s something you’re not telling me. Like how you didn’t tell me about any of this in the first fucking place. Just be honest with me. Please.” His stare was boring into Caska’s head, she couldn’t look away but felt like she was crumbling under the weight. They had never argued like this before and Caska had the horrible thought that she seemed to be losing. “Why didn’t you tell me yourself? Why put it off? Is it that you don’t trust me? Or did you just not think it mattered?” It echoed, what he had left unsaid. ‘Did you just not think I mattered?’ How fucking dare he. Indignation and blood rose to her face.
“Not matter? Of course it matters, Lüc. Why else would it be so hard to tell you? Maybe I just knew you would get all up in arms about it!” Caska was being unfair. And she was raising her voice. She wasn’t acting very Imperial right now. Damn Lücan Serenel. “Acting like I can’t make any of my own decisions, acting like Andronika has to do it all for me.”
“Well, she seems to have to have some of your conversations for you. Are you going to say goodbye? Or will Andronika do that for you too?”
“Oh fuck you!” She surprised them both with that. Lücan took a step back even as Caska took a step forward. “Why are you even so angry? What could possibly make this so hard for you?” She was getting too close to her real question. Are you going to miss me like I’ll miss you? Does it kill you to think of me marrying someone else? Do you want to kiss me too?
“What makes it hard for me to think about you leaving?” Lücan’s voice was low and tight. How could anyone see him across the battlefield and not run? Didn’t they know who he was? “About you marrying some fucking Duke?” He was drifting closer again, she was too. Like being caught in gravity. “Of course I don’t want you to leave, Caska. What the fuck am I supposed to do when you’re out of my sight? When you’re marrying someone…” He clenched his jaw, turned his head. Why wouldn’t he just fucking look at her tonight?
“Who’s keeping secrets now, Lücan? Why the fuck are you so angry? Because I lied?” Look at me, she wanted to scream. Caska’s voice rose with every word, every heartbeat. He matched her.
“Because you’re getting married!”
“Why do you care?”
“Because I love you!”
Silence could be so loud. Especially when it wasn’t silence. When it was Lücan’s ragged breathing and Caska’s heart pounding in her chest. When it was Lücan Serenel’s golden eyes dropping to Caska’s lips for just a moment.
Caska could smell the wine. She was dizzy, like they were standing over a great height. Their vision was filled with Lücan and stars. Caska was so young and so drunk and so scared. I wanted to kiss him… I wanted to kiss him, and he would have let me. The thought was so loud, louder than all their shouting, and Caska wanted to snatch it out the aether and keep it close. Keep it safe in her chest where only them and Lücan could see it. Lücan who was looking at everything except Caska.
Lücan who was stepping back out of reach.
“Lüc…” Words had failed. There were no words for this (or there were. Words like ‘kiss me’ and ‘never let me go’ and ‘I love you’. But Caska had built a special wall around those words and one thing well known in Arcadia, is that walls are not so easily breached).
“I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry, I wanted… this isn’t how this was supposed to go.” He sounded desperately fragile, and fragilely desperate. Caska wanted to know how this was supposed to go, wanted to hear his plan and his script. But the world shifted in the course of a blink and Lücan was gone.
Caska was vaguely aware of the door clicking closed. He ran away, he actually told me he loves me then ran away. Caska could admit that she had been running away from her feelings for years now. And, in total honestly, may have quickly left some rooms that proved a bit difficult to be in as a young woman. But Caska had never told Lücan that they love him. And they still hadn’t, because he ran before she could say anything. Shit.
Caska wandered the palace halls for hours before she was forced to acknowledge that Lücan was hiding somewhere they couldn’t find him. That seemed unfair. He could always find Caska when she ran. Nausea chewed at her gut, maybe if she loved him better she could find him. Maybe if they were the kind of person who could make him happy she could find him.
How did it all go so wrong? When did this start to fall apart? Was it when she walked into his room, ready with half truths? Or when she put off telling him anything resembling truth again, and again, and again? Or when she decided to marry someone who is not Lücan Serenel to protect people she had never met? Or before that. When they sat on a rooftop, lips on a bottle of honey sweet wine and looked at Lücan Serenel in all his golden glory and realised she would rather her lips were on his. Maybe that was the start of all of this misery.
No. It wasn’t miserable. Loving Lücan was all the stars in the sky and all the stomach churning freedom of looking over a height while your feet were firm on the ground. He made her heart race and her anxieties calm. He was honey sweet and she wanted to get drunk on him. He loved her. Impossibly, against all reasoning, against all Imperial mandate, he loved her. And when he told her the same, she hadn’t said a word.