Lucan was sitting on the faded red sofa, head resting wearily in his palm and one foot carelessly propped up on the coffee table. The other was covered by the long, warm body of the oldest dog, asleep with its head on its paws, the glow of the fire highlighting his honey coloured fur. A book lay abandoned next to him, dropped an hour or so ago when Lucan had found himself unable to concentrate. He wasn’t sure what he’d been doing since then. Staring unseeingly out of the window, it seemed. Watching dusk fall over Camelot.

He had been to training this morning, following the steps along with the others and then staying afterwards, working his way through the motions until his muscles screamed with agony. Even now they ached. He had stayed until he had been forced to leave by a guard. The physical exertion had been a welcome distraction, and maybe… maybe a small part of him had wanted Clare to turn up. It was where he had first met her, where this whole thing had started. But she hadn’t, and so he had trudged home alone, his hand sore and blistered from the sword and his heart heavy.

Now he was sitting here, having refused John’s worried insistence that he eat something, with just his pet for company. He could have gone back to Taran’s, but he could not face seeing the other Knight and hearing his gushes about Beth, or his probing questions. He felt so tired, although sleep was currently beyond him. He had stayed up last night, sharpening his sword even though he knew John had had it done just days before. He had been shaking with anger, taking everything out of the weapon until it gleamed in the morning light, the edge razor sharp and deadly. Then he had clutched at his hair, standing at the window and watching the sun rise while sobs threatened to overwhelm him and his very soul seemed to ache.

Lucan groaned, lolling his head back to fall onto the back of the couch and staring bleakly up to the ceiling. It would be nearing 6 O Clock now. His stomach turned uncomfortably and a dull pain grew under his heart as he squeezed his eyes shut. At his feet, the dog lifted its head and looked up at him mournfully, before slumping back to sleep.

Lucan pushed his hair back from his face. It was tousled and dark with sweat from his session on the training grounds, adding to his pale and drawn appearance as he gazed absently upwards, dark shadows lying heavy under his eyes and feeling the exquisite pain deep within threaten to engulf him once again.

There was a knock at the door, and he heard footsteps as John went to answer it. He had usually gone home by now, but Lucan suspected he was worried about him. He had not told his manservant what had happened between him and Clare, instead choosing to float sadly round the house and ignore his concerned glances.

A harsh rattle floated back to him as the chain slid back and the door was pulled open, and Lucan glared into the unlit fireplace, praying that John would have the intelligence to send whoever it was away. Even the dog at his feet did not show any more reaction than his master. This house was clearly not in the mood for entertaining tonight.

Clare’s heart thrummed loudly in her chest as she made her way down cobbled streets, court heels clicking lightly on the stones as she passed. She was dressed in one of Madge’s plainer gowns, simple cream embezzled with the coat of Boillyeres, a simple of her position in serving. The dress was ill fitting, too large round the bust and hips and too long for her to walk comfortably in.

After her maids had returned to find their mistress dozing lightly on the sheets of her bed, sodden gown discarded in favour of a shift they had questioned her incessantly. Her gown, fine in make and material had been ruined by the spilt wine and had to be dispassionately discarded. Clare had taken it upon herself to be inconspicuous and instead of ruining another of her fine dresses had favoured one of Madge’s. It was one she rarely wore so there was a chance she wouldn’t notice it was gone and in any case she would have it washed.

It was amazing how differently those around you reacted when you simply changed your hairstyle and dress. Opting for a simple fastened up coif and plainer gown, although she supposed the crest sewn on the bodice was indication of lower station secured less respect, if any. Still, Clare felt a pang of indignation stab in her chest at the thought. Madge was a lady in her own right, such as Elizabeth of Maldon or Rebekah of Crestridge. Simply because she had opted for the prestigious position of lady in waiting, did not mean she should be devoid of any respect.

Clare grasped the abandoned garment of Lucan’s firmly in her right hand as she traced the familiar route to his manor. She would never have dreamed that when she first saw his house that she would be visiting again in these circumstances. Their hope of friendship had been completely shattered as he had angrily pressed his lips to hers. She didn’t resent him for it and she wouldn’t have protested if had continued and yet she still felt a sharp feeling of guilt. Her husband was sitting alone, or she presumed alone in his chambers and she bit her lip at the thought.

Her devastation over the incident last night, had slowly over the course of the day festered and mutated into pure unbridled anger. He had no right to scream the things he did, she might have been a fool for him once but she was still a Queen and demanded respect as such. His cruel words wrung sharply in her ears and she closed her eyes wincing at the thought. ‘I would have risked it for you, you know,’

It was too late, she mused. The damage was already done and their relationship fractured beyond repair. She knew Lucan would never forgive her for the harsh words and she doubted whether she really could look past his malicious words. She shook her head, willing the painful thrum in her chest to leave her be.

The courtyard, as she entered was dark and uninviting, a bare candle flickered in a far off window and she felt her skin rise with apprehension. Part of her wanted to thrust the garment into Lucan’s servants hands and be done with it but her pride wouldn’t let her. The Queen of Irick was many things but certainly not a coward and she wouldn’t let Lucan think of her as such, not in such treacherous times as these.

Wrapping lightly on the door she felt the bolt unlatch and the hinges creep open. She was greeted by the face of John was it? And she smiled lightly inkling her head in his direction. ‘I will greet Sir Lucan, is he in the salon?’ Not waiting for a reply, she forced her way through being exceedingly rude in the process. The hallway was as she had remembered it, the large picture of Lucan beaming down at her and she shook her head a little sickened.

She continued down the hallway, petulantly ignoring the manservant’s protests and came to rest at a thick door. Firelight beamed out underneath the oak and she bit her lip, unlatching it and stepping through the threshold. The heat hit her first, the warm glow of the fire scalding her face and then she saw him, framed by the orange flames. He looked exhausted and Clare had to suppress a smirk. Her voice was cold and stern as it carried across the distance between them. ‘Next time Sir Lucan, when you decide to storm out of my chambers like a petulant child, without even an attempt to explain yourself nor your actions. I bid you, clear up after yourself.’ She held up the jacket and threw it at the table that was stood in front of him, a glare returning to her face as she did so.

Lucan sighed heavily as he heard the rumble of voices and harsh footfalls. Obviously whoever it was had managed to get past John. The handle turned, Lucan watching it lazily from his position by the fire, the dog still warming his foot like a rug. The door flew open, and he immediately felt like he wsa going to be sick. A wild stab of pain ran him through, forcing the air from his lungs and causing him to gasp quietly.

Clare stood framed in the doorway, dressed in a modest gown he was sure must belong to someone else, made from a courser fabric and falling ungainly over her lithe body. She seemed momentarily thrown by the heat and light of the room, giving Lucan time to recover some composure before she gave him a cold look. Lucan didn't move from his seat as she raised his jacket and threw it carelessly towards him. When she spoke, her usually soft and laughing voice was like ice.

‘Next time Sir Lucan, when you decide to storm out of my chambers like a petulant child, without even an attempt to explain yourself nor your actions. I bid you, clear up after yourself.’

Lucan looked cooly across at her, feeling his heart dance a mad rhythm beneath his chest. Finally, he levered himself to his feet, feeling the ache of training return to his shoulders and back. Over her shoulder, he caught a glimpse of John standing just outside the room, shooting his Lord a look that said, quite plainly, 'I tried to stop her. Sorry.'

At his movement, the larger dog had given a short whine and scrabbled to its feet. Seemingly just recognising they had visitors, it began to pad its way towards the Queen. Lucan decided that this probably wouldn't be a good idea. She had already hurt him enough. The last thing he wanted was her to mistreat his pet, and though he doubted it, she looked angry enough to do that right now. He gave a low call, clicking his fingers commandingly and dropping Clares gaze to watch the dog loop in a wide circle and return to him. It sat obediently at his ankle, turning its head to watch the new arrival out of dark brown eyes.

Lucan glanced back at her, shutters pulling down behind his grey eyes and his face becoming blank and stoney. He did not want her here, he decided. Even though most of his body was calling out for her, including his miserable heart, his head was telling him her presence was a very bad idea. It would not help him any, and the best thing to do would be to get rid of her. No matter how much he hated it.

"And next time, Your Highness, when you decide to storm into my house like a spoilt child, I bid you to knock." he retorted scathingly, before reaching down to pick up his jacket. It still smelt of his walk in the woods, and he beckoned to John, who slipped past the Queen and took the garment from Lucan's hand. With a short nod to the Knight, and a bow to the Queen, the manservant scurried through to a side room to put it away. Lucan noticed he had left the door ajar, probably to make it easier to overhear them.

He turned back to the Queen, trying not to linger on how long and elegant the slope of her neck looked with her hair up. "Is there anything else I can help you with?" he finally questioned, though the tone of his voice made it quite obvious he was not eager to offer his services in any way.

"And next time, Your Highness, when you decide to storm into my house like a spoilt child, I bid you to knock." She gaped at him slightly, words no longer coherent in her mind. This man, this lord had been not only inexplicably rude last night but it appeared he had deemed it acceptable to be similar in manner this evening. She felt the manservant brush past her, eyes still firmly trained on Lucan. She didn’t hear the latch shut as she had expected and raised her eyebrows at Lucan. Leaning back, she splayed her fingers and smirked as she lightly pushed the door shut. ‘Should I knock now then, to please you My Lord?’

Her words were humourless and cold as her pale eyes trained upon his face raised, his voice echoing around the warmth of the room. "Is there anything else I can help you with?" She laughed and broke his gaze, eyes languidly roaming the chairs scattered around the room. She nodded graciously, inclining her head toward the large red chair Lucan had previously been seated at.

She smiled back at him and moved slowly past him, skirts trailing behind her full and flowing. She lingered next to him, close enough to feel the warmth emanate from his body and she raised her eyebrows up, a firm smirk upon her face. Slowly, she turned and lowered herself onto the red chair, leaning back and sighing contently. The heat of the fire was intoxicating and she felt her eyes slowly move to meet his.

‘Yes Sir Lucan, you can. I would very much like for you to explain and plead with me as to why I should not have you banished from Irick and for me never to see your face again. I would like you to appeal as to why I should not inform Uther of your actions, unjust as they were.’ Clare doubted very much that she could ever be so callous but her anger was rising in her stomach and swelling precariously in her chest. The man before her was not the one she had met over a week ago and she had decided that this man would be far easier to cut from her life.

The man held no tact, no class nor compassion and it pained her to see the man she trusted and the man that she had held so close was nothing more than a liar and a pathetic farce. He was not worthy of a glance in his direction. She turned her face toward the fire, letting the warm fire bask her face in an intense heat that soothed her.

‘You say my husband does not love me and that I am cruel but you cannot dismiss yourself. You are as bad as us both and it hurts me to see you as such. I am aware of what I have done, even if you aren’t and I have made my peace with it.’ She smiled mournfully into the dancing flames and gritted her teeth. It had taken the Queen nearly three years to forgive herself of what she had done and she would never feel bad because of this man. She had regretted it but had made her peace, accepted the fact that there would be no forgiveness, no absolution.

‘But I believe you need to face what you have done, who you are. You are not exempt Lucan.’

Lucan’s grey eyes were trained on Clare as she moved towards him, stepping elegantly despite the ill fitting dress. She skimmed past, skirts trailing on the recently polished wooden floor and sinking gracefully into the seat he had just vacated. The abandoned book slipped slightly, slipping down the side of the worn cushion while he watched and she let out a tiny sigh.

Lucan stepped back slightly, crossing his arms tightly over his chest, feeling the tight muscles across the back of his shoulders. He leaned languidly against the mantle over the fireplace, the dog moving to stand protectively next to him, both lit by the roaring fire.

‘I would very much like for you to explain and plead with me as to why I should not have you banished from Irick and for me never to see your face again. I would like you to appeal as to why I should not inform Uther of your actions, unjust as they were.’

Lucan groaned, casting his eyes up to the ceiling with frustration. He was tired. He ached, both physically and emotionally. And he did not want to fight, least of all in his own home. It seemed that wherever he went he could not escape her, no matter if they were fighting or forcing themselves apart. Suddenly, he just wanted some peace. To get away.

“If you don’t want to see my face again, My Lady, then all you have to do say. Believe me; I will not seek you out.” He shifted, still leaning against the mantle so the wood dug awkwardly into his shoulder. “And I do not believe you will tell Uther. Because, despite everything, I don’t think you are a malicious person.”

He sounded a lot more confident than he felt. As much as he wanted to believe that the Clare he knew would not intentionally ruin him, he was unsure what lengths this new side of her would stretch to hurt him. He glanced slightly nervously across to the bow leaning casually against the wall, the coat of Camelot emblazoned on the wood. His job was his whole life, everything he had worked for since childhood. If it was taken anyway, his Mother would die of shame, and he had no idea how to do anything else.

Lucan had a lot of time to think last night, staying awake until the sun rose and it was time to leave the house again. He had weighed up everything, and with his brain fogged with rage and heartbreak, he had somehow come to a supposedly rational conclusion. Perhaps it was not worth the risk after all.

‘You say my husband does not love me and that I am cruel but you cannot dismiss yourself. You are as bad as us both and it hurts me to see you as such. I am aware of what I have done, even if you aren’t and I have made my peace with it. But I believe you need to face what you have done, who you are. You are not exempt Lucan.’

He scoffed. He couldn’t help it. She was so patronizing it was infuriating, with her ‘holier than thou’ attitude and condescending look. The blonde Knight pushed himself away from the fireplace, striding across the room to a pitcher of water that stood on the side. Splashing some of the crystal liquid into a nearby glass, he kept his back to her.

“You speak as if you know me, You Highness,” he muttered, finally turning and staring across at her, his face bright and haunted with some untold emotion. “I have killed countless men, with families and children, only fighting to withhold their own Kingdoms honour. I have allowed my friends to run into battle, knowing they would not come back.” He gave a bitter laugh, throwing back the glass of cold water and closing his eyes to feel it slip down his throat. He never spoke of this, and now he knew why. His hand shook slightly as he placed the glass back on the table.

“So please do not talk to me about forgiveness. I know exactly what I have done, and I have accepted it. Because I did it for Camelot, not for personal gain, and perhaps that is the difference between us.” He stared down at the glass he had just replaced, at the wet ring forming beneath it, breathing deeply in the room that was suddenly much too warm.

‘I have killed countless men, with families and children, only fighting to withhold their own Kingdoms honour.’ It was all a little overwhelming, this sudden realisation that Lucan had killed those as she had done. He had torn apart families and destroyed lives with only a move of his skilled hands. She closed her eyes, breathing harshly through her nose, mind swelling with horrific and vicious images. His face, blank and unseeing as his friends fell around him, blood dripping from sword in his pale hands.

She heard him place down the goblet he had collected and slowly, regretfully opened her eyes. He was pale and drawn, hand shaking a little. Why had she had instigated this conversation? Why had she simply not walked away when she had the chance? The majority of her body was imploring her to walk over and calm his hand, calm his nerves. She couldn’t she decided, he would never respect her if she gave in.

‘Because I did it for Camelot, not for personal gain, and perhaps that is the difference between us.’ She looked up at him, eyes pleading and full of agony. He wouldn’t meet her eyes and instead looked contemplatively down at the shadow of water forming around the glass. He was right, all of this time she had been kidding herself that he would understand. She had fooled herself with the ideals that they were similar in the least. He was kind and compassionate and yet held the same passionate fierceness that made her heart thrum uncomfortably in her chest.

Clare had none of the empathy that he seemed to hold in such high regard. She would never see an innocent hurt and yet had stood by, watching as a young girls life was torn apart. Her mother had been executed whilst her father married another woman. She was surprised Sybilla herself hadn’t attempted to end her life. Glancing back at the man she swallowed shaking her head, willing him to look up. Her mask was shattering by the moment, her so carefully constructed face deteriorating second by second.

‘Then we are different, although you should know it was never my intention for Georgina to die.’ Her voice cracked and she bit back a choke at the thought of the late Queen. She prayed Lucan would understand, if he didn’t know already then it was no point keeping it from him. She flexed her fingers into a fist and back out again repeatedly, hoping the simple action could relieve some of her mounting tension.

Clare shook her head and pushed herself clumsily from the seat, stumbling slightly over the flowing skirts that were far too long. She reached out to steady herself on the mantle before nodding slightly panicked by the sudden breath stealing emotion. She hated the feeling of being despised, especially by such a man as Lucan. She dropped into a low curtsey, eyeing the door awkwardly.

The Queen moved round coming to rest at Lucan’s feet, bodice hanging loosely from her shoulders. Pulling at it Clare adjusted her skirts, not caring that they were dragging despondently over the floor. Having her hair so neatly clipped up was not a rare occasion but she felt bare as she slowly raised her eyes to his. She was close, exceedingly close and she averted her gaze and biting her lip firmly. Her chest rose and fell frantically, pale skin shrouded with paler cloth and she eyed down her family crest, a constant reminder of her duty. ‘I will leave you then.’

‘Then we are different, although you should know it was never my intention for Georgina to die.’

Lucan felt sick and closed his eyes tightly, swallowing hard and shaking his head. "Too different."

The truth was, he had intended to kill each one of the men who had met their end by his sword. From the moment he saw them, he had intended to be the one to strike them down. It was only afterwards, when he had left the other Knights and was sat alone at home, that he realised. It was the same every time. Sitting in the dark, shaking, until he fell into a fitful sleep and eventually awoke from his own nightmare. There was a movement where Clare sat, but he kept his eyes tightly closed rather than see her leave.

There was a sudden shift in the air, like it had warmed a fraction, and when Lucan turned it was to see Clare’s face filling his vision. Pale and beautiful, the blue eyes that haunted him lifting to meet his questioning gaze. Something shot between them, filling Lucan with an emotion that flooded his veins, mingling with the bitter memories that refused to die and adding to them. Words screamed and hissed over a cold chamber, the clang of sword against sword… Clare had dropped his gaze now, but Lucan had already seen his own reflection within the blue. He was just so tired he had to focus to catch her next words, and they made his heart lurch.

‘I will leave you then.’

“No. Don’t.” The words spilled from his lips before he could catch them, hanging heavily in the air like cobwebs. Lucan realised, with a dull surprise, that his hand had reached out and closed around her slender wrist, encircling it easily and gently. The sudden feeling of skin against skin sent fire up his arm, and he let go quickly, feeling the hum of their brief contact linger. He looked into her face, knowing how awful he must look, his grey eyes large and pleading. “Sorry. But... please?”

He didn’t want to be left alone like he had been. Especially now he had opened his own Pandora’s box of memories deep inside. It was funny, how he could hate her for what she had done and said, but still need her close, still crave the proximity and grinning conversations they had shared. Sure, he could have called Taran, or asked John to stay late, or invite round any of the other Knights or acquaintances he had in this city. But he wanted her. Against all rationality, every scrap of logic in his brain, he still wanted her.

’No. Don’t.’ She heard the words spill from his mouth and her eyes dutifully moved up to his. Her breath hitched in his throat as she studied his pale face. It was drawn and sickly in pallor, his eyes were tired and she couldn’t help but notice a slight shake in his fingers as he encircled her slender wrist. She had no idea the sort of images that would be swirling in his head and she would not allow him to be alone, no matter what her rationality was telling her.

She sighed a little despondently as he slowly moved his quivering hands away from her wrist, suddenly feeling cold and a little alone despite the man’s proximity. She smiled a little reassuringly, flexing her fingers by her side. ’Sorry. But... please?’ Clare nodded and smiled again, her eyes roaming languidly over his face. She tentatively raised her hand to his face, cupping her fingers around his smooth cheek. She brushed a few strays of light blonde hair from his eyes with her free hand whilst stoking smooth circles into his flesh. ‘I will not leave you Lucan, you are shaking you know.’

She indicated to his hand and with her free digits, tentatively raised the worn flesh to her mouth, panting a light kiss to the surface before releasing it, other hand still strained on his cheek. She was almost pleased to see such a vulnerable side of him, it didn’t lower her opinion but instead proved to her that such a passionate man was not ashamed to show his faults, however small. Squeezing his face gently she smiled reassuringly. ‘I will listen to you, you know that?’

Clare wasn’t quite sure how they had managed to go from throwing insults at each other to standing almost inches apart in a loving embrace. Why she hadn’t simply left when she had the chance, she wasn’t sure. Perhaps a small part of her mind longed for his warm touch and carefree smile. It had taken so much of her shattered pride to get here and now she was throwing it away second by second.

‘I didn’t mean it Lucan, the things I said. I..I was just angry at the day.’ She searched his face imploringly and smiled, eyes warming to the man at the end of her fingertips. Her weary mind had blocked out the enormity of the comments thrown yesterday and yet words repeated solemnly in her mind. ‘Throw it away over nothing? Is that what I am? Nothing?’ She swallowed and breathed deep, feeling panic and fear ripple uncomfortably in her chest. She hated the thought that he would think of her as Alec had done, as all of her kingdom does.

Her rhythmic ministrations on his cheek had slowed into long, sweeping patterns by her thumb. He looked so tired, so sick of the world as they knew it and Clare felt her fragmented heart swell. In that moment she felt the world collapse around them as her eyes looked imploringly into his fine grey orbs. ‘Why did you kiss me?’

The moment he had stormed across the void between them, was painfully seared into her fragile mind. The way his lips crashed angrily against her own, lust and hate a dangerous balance whirling in his eyes etched forever in her memories. The thought had been burning on the tip of her tongue since she had walked into the room. It had been completely unprecedented, not at all expected and yet not in the slightest unpleasant. ‘I only ask because I would never have thought you capable of such recklessness.’

She smiled again genuinely, warm blue eyes meeting his. She felt herself choke and it was all she could do not to lean the two inches or so and close their lips together once more.

Lucan’s eyes drifted closed as Clare’s small, cool hand slipped over his cheek, her long fingers pushing the ragged blonde hair from his face and tracing a gentle pattern against his skin. The motion sent a sudden wave of calm through him, like a bucket of freezing water over fire, and though images still flickered across his closed eyelids, he felt the tension run out of his muscles.

‘I will not leave you Lucan, you are shaking you know.’

Her free hand threaded through hers, and the soft bow of her mouth brushed against his knuckles. He could feel it now, the light tremble of his fingers as they lay against her calming touch. Lucan’s stormy grey eyes fluttered open, tired and bloodshot from several sleepless nights and Clare’s brilliant blue gaze scanned his face. She stared, giving the impression she was looking straight down into his soul, seeing the bruised and broken heart that was thudding painfully against his ribs. It had been partly her doing, he knew, but right now, when she was only inches away and smiling up at him, he found he did no longer care.

‘I will listen to you, you know that?’

He nodded silently, believing her completely. But he knew he was unlikely to tell her. He didn’t think he would ever tell anyone some of what was etched into his mind, the images that currently danced around him. The words were just too painful to pass easily over his tongue, instead twisting into an ugly and painful ball at the back of his throat, making him gag and need to vomit. Lucan turned his face, pressing his cheek further into the cool dip of her palm and dropping her gaze as words washed over him.

‘I didn’t mean it Lucan, the things I said. I..I was just angry at the day.’

He looked back to her, his eyes meeting hers slowly. She smiled; a soft and gentle quirk of her lips that Lucan already knew would make him forgive her anything. He had told her just that before, he remembered. They had been standing against the wall in chamber, just as close as they were now. Lucan buried the thought and returned the sad smile. “You don’t need to apologise to me. You know that,” he replied softly, his fingers winding subconsciously through hers once again. “I said worse things. I’m sorry, Clare. I have no excuse.”

He sighed, closing his eyes briefly as her thumb swept over his cheekbone, brushing the bags under his eyes. His muscles had restarted their aching, his injured wrist, although recovered, giving him frantic stabs of pain.

‘Why did you kiss me? I only ask because I would never have thought you capable of such recklessness.’

Lucan’s eyes flew open to be met with her warm and inviting gaze. She was smiling again, although this time it was no longer laced with the bitter sadness. She didn’t seem angry, at least, but Lucan’s stomach squirmed as he remembered his own impulsive actions. Much of what had been said last night was lost to him, buried in a painful fog of emotion, but that stuck out. He had lived it over and over. The gentle curve of her lips under his, the sudden stillness of the room, the tightening of her body against his own.

“I… I don’t know.” He finally replied, his voice skipping and breathless. “I just needed to.” He let go of her hand once again, feeling the heartache swell as her touch fell away. He inclined his head and heat rose in his cheeks, colouring them pink as he watched his own feet moving him away from her. He knew he had crossed the line, and he worried he would no longer be able to control himself around her. Especially now, when he had promised himself an end.

“I was not thinking clearly. It will not happen again,” he swore, leaning back against the cabinet where the water pitcher sat and causing the liquid to quiver. His usually square, broad shoulders curved with exhaustion, and he forcied himself to look up at Clare, meeting her gaze imploringly.

‘I… I don’t know...I just needed to.’ She smiled a little, feeling an awful chill seep through her aching bones as he released her pale fingers. She shouldn’t have asked, she mused. It was harsh to put such a weary man through emotional atrophy for her own peace of mind. He looked so fragile before her, so broken and she held her breath, staring a little pleadingly into his eyes. If such a man that could have cut down countless men as he had surely done, was standing here devoid of any strength, willing to look quite as vulnerable as the pale form of Lucan did. Then Clare felt herself slip far beyond the point of rationality and subsequently a platonic friendship with the man.

She smiled; if such a small woman could have such a large effect on the sword wielding knight then she held more power than she was given credit for. If women such as her ruled Albion, there would be no indignant wars and men like Lucan could hold their lives in peace, a pleasant thought truly. Such an idea that a woman would ever be granted power of Queen in her own right was far beyond their time and she smiled a little sadly at the thought.

Her eyes had gradually drifted towards the space of wall behind Lucan’s cool blond hair. She swept her fierce blue orbs back as his voice rang, resigned through the heat of the room. ‘I was not thinking clearly. It will not happen again,’ He had regretted it entirely. The though made bile claw precariously up at her throat and she looked down, furiously avoiding his gaze. She had been fooling herself with the pretence that the man held remote feelings for her. Even if she had, her rational mind nagged, it was long since past as his voice resonated through the air.

She gritted her teeth and feel her pale skin fill with a brilliant scarlet at her embarrassment. The night their lips had met, under the cooling canopy of stars had been exhilarating in the least. She had kissed him neither out of duty nor obligation but of her free will, she had given him her mask to the world and now it lay shattered upon the cool flagstones. His other words flowed away into muted darkness, the rejection burning the back of her eyes and compressing her chest to the point of breathlessness.

She nodded solemnly, eyes still downcast to the world, lightness and hope flowing past her head as she lay bare and insular to the floor. Her words choked from her mouth, neither angry nor gleeful. They were unemotional and contemplative. He had a habit of making her seem the most happy and yet the most awful of people within minutes, it seemed to occur on their every meeting. ‘Then I am sorry I kissed you the night you were on guard and for putting you in this situation.’ She laughed a little, raising her eyes slowly and squinting as sunlight filtered her vision.

‘Why can’t I leave you be, why can’t everything be fine and as if I never met you, things would be so much simpler/’ Her first words were harsh, far angrier than she had expected before dissolving into rapid pleading. What was it about him that made her so foolish, so young and confused? The world had been complex before Camelot and now with each passing moment with Lucan it had morphed into an intricate web of tangled emotions. With one step of progress she had made to forget him, to forget their stolen passions she took three heart breaking steps back.

She bit her lip, face scrunching up as her brow furrowed and cheeks flushed. Her feet skidded over the floor as she took a shattering step back. The hurt of losing him, the cold emptiness that had slowly consumed her body since he had crashed out of her room would be worth it in the long run. If she could live the rest of her lonely life without fear of impending doom nor the horrendous mixing of gruelling emotion then that was compensation enough. The truth, boiled down to its barest forms cascaded through her mind as she mournfully adjusted her eyes to his bloodshot gaze.

‘I will leave you, and if it is what you want I shall never speak nor meet your gaze again. I swear if you can tell me that you want me gone from your house and your life then I shall gladly go rather than see you suffer through my presence.’ It was odd how such a turnaround in dynamic between the start of their conversation and now had taken place. Whilst all the while his sorrow filled words echoed cruelly in her ears. ’I would have risked it for you, you know,’

As soon as the words left his lips, and Clare dropped his gaze, he regretted them. Her pale skin tinged an angry red as she nodded hesitantly, her sapphire eyes still fixed on the floor. When she spoke, she sounded strangely detached, like she was speaking to a stranger.

‘Then I am sorry I kissed you the night you were on guard and for putting you in this situation.’

Lucan frowned, pushing his head back so he was staring miserably at the ceiling. If you squinted, you could just about make out the dark scorch mark where Taran had once got overexcited and waved a torch stolen from the castle around. He had narrowly avoided losing his curtains that night. He sighed heavily, his stomach dropping when he allowed himself to consider her words.

He didn’t want her to apologise. That kiss under the stars, in the middle of a freezing courtyard, had settled something. Put the lid on any hope of a platonic friendship and opened the door to something more. It may be something filled with risk and heartbreak, but he still couldn’t wipe her smile from his mind, or the sound of her laugh ringing like a bell in his ears. The decision he had come to last night, not to take the risk involved, was rapidly dissolving with every moment in her presence.

‘Why can’t I leave you be, why can’t everything be fine and as if I never met you, things would be so much simpler.’

Her voice petered out into a gentle plead and his head dropped, turning wearily so he was looking back at her. Lucan felt a tug on his heart as she moved away across the wooden floor. Her words resounded in his ear, echoing his own thoughts perfectly.

But they had met, and things were terrible and wonderful and complicated as a result of it. Lucan lifted himself from his post leaning against the cabinet, feeling his pulled muscles scream in agony across his back as he did so. At this rate, he would not make practice tomorrow. He needed to sleep – his heavy heart and tired limbs may as well have been made of lead.

‘I will leave you, and if it is what you want I shall never speak nor meet your gaze again. I swear if you can tell me that you want me gone from your house and your life then I shall gladly go rather than see you suffer through my presence.’

“That is not what I want,” he said sharply, the words so swift they ran into the end of her sentence. He still could not stand to see her leave, even though the constant words from her seemed to hint that Clare could not wait to be rid of him. He sniffed loudly, rubbing his nose and forcing himself to stand straighter. With two full strides, he moved back towards her, his rough and tired hands grasping hers. His right was sore and blistered from training, and he could feel the remaining tremor in his fingers as they twisted around hers. “You know I would never want that… Clare, do you have really no idea how I feel? I could not stand to see you go.”

He sighed. It was the closest he had ever come to admitting what he was scared to know, what could most likely be his downfall. Images of war and furious blue eyes danced around him, pressing in from all sides.

“Stay,” he implored her, his face half lit by the roaring fire. He sighed, shaking his untidy blonde hair from his eyes and then gesturing questioningly to the padded seats surrounding it. He noticed the dog had curled up on one, its head on a cushion while it watched them through meaningful dark eyes. The only witness to the way their hands interlocked. “Just for a while. Please.”

“That is not what I want,” Her eyes snapped up and she smiled a little faintly, all rationality wiped from her mind as those five words echoed magnificently around them. “You know I would never want that… Clare, do you have really no idea how I feel? I could not stand not to see you.”She choked a little at the revelation as words spun a little frantically around her weary head. He moved to her in one frantic movement and her mouth opened, stuttering as he grasped her hands with his calloused palms.

She bit her lip, cascading emotions mixing and flooding her chest and she felt her knees buckle a little. He didn’t hate her, he hadn’t regretted it and the foolish presumptions she had made melted away into a flush of embarrassment. Clare looked down, a little ashamed of her judgement of which he didn’t deserve. Her words as they escaped her lips were choked and stuttered, the usual air of refinement and confidence wiped from her mouth. ‘But it’s so hard Lucan, I..I don’t know what to do.’

Her words faded into quite and muffled pleas as her eyes moved up to his, hair coming loose at the front from the exertion. The warmed blue translucence were filled with anguish and unspoken words of regret. Tears of sadness and partial joy were willing themselves to fall but she bit her lip, not letting them overpower her as his words rang pleadingly through the inches separating them.

“Stay...Just for a while. Please.” She smiled a little sadly at him, breaking his clasp on her hand and raising her own to brush loose strands of ash blonde hair from his eyes. His grey eyes were tired and weary and Clare felt a pang of sympathy for the man. At least she could be secluded in her heartache but poor Lucan had to train with the other knights as everything was ok.

‘Will my staying not make it harder when I have to go? Because I don’t know if I can come back here, to you I mean.’ The worlds were tainted with resentment at the authorities that tore them apart and yet they spoke the truth. If she had to leave then she truly doubted if she had the strength to go through all they had, yet again.

Her heart was breaking, shattering into thousands of tiny shards as a mirror and she felt the hope and joy seep out of her broken soul. Lucan and her could never be together so long as they remained at their stations, at least not with Clare’s ever present entourage trilling her. She needed to feel his hands in her hair, his lips brush against her but the last fragment of self preservation and rationality clinging on wouldn’t let her.

She raised her forehead, her head replacing her now entwined hand, she smiled against his skin, breath mixing with his own as their bodies merged into one. [color=purple] ‘I don’t want to leave you, but we can’t do this anymore, it’s tearing me apart Lucan. I can’t walk through the door without you because I know I can’t come back. I need you to help me, please.’[color]Her words were choked from her mouth, muffled by their proximity. She felt an odd surge of emotion through her bones as her mind finally formed what she had ponderings since their very first meeting. She realised that no matter how hard she tried, she knew she could never leave him.

Clare breathed through her nose, letting all the tension and confusion pour through her skin until she was content, letting her eyes slowly drift shut as he leant in, lips meeting as she brought a single hand up to cup his cheek. She had fallen for him.

‘Will my staying not make it harder when I have to go? Because I don’t know if I can come back here, to you I mean.’

Her words were bitter with the truth. Lucan knew they would always be like this, caught in a web of uncertainty and secrets, but if that was all they could have, then he would gladly jump straight in. She hurt him, she made him want to shout and throw things, she reduced him into a trembling shell of a soldier and hate everything and everyone. But he couldn’t do without her, despite all this, despite the brief time they had known each other. The thought of her going anywhere without him was like drowning. He ached for her, dreamt of her like she was a light in the midst of his nightmares. In this moment, this destructive relationship was all he needed.

She lifted her face to his, their foreheads brushing together in a surge of heat. He felt her lips curve softly into a smile against the pale, gaunt flesh of his cheek, and shut his eyes. He could feel every spot where they touched like a thousand pinpricks.

‘I don’t want to leave you, but we can’t do this anymore, it’s tearing me apart Lucan. I can’t walk through the door without you because I know I can’t come back. I need you to help me, please.’

Their lips met in yet another regrettable kiss, but Lucan did not have the strength left in him to pull away this time. His free hand came up, his fingers fanning over the back of her neck and applying gentle pressure, pulling her to him so every inch of space was crushed.

Her body was warm and small against his, moulding into him until he could feel her hearts gentle drum against his own. When they broke apart, his breath was shallow and ragged, and he let whatever was trapped in his lungs out in a faint sigh. She was right, of course. It was a hopeless situation. She was a married woman, a queen who must someday return to Irick. But she had pulled him under, captured his heart and would doubtless carry it with her wherever she went.

Lucan bent his head, burying his face into the cool and delicate curve of her neck, fair hair twisting and contrasting with her dark locks. She smelt of fresh air and some foreign flower, and the scent sapped the tension that had been keeping him awake from deep within him. Like a weight had been lifted, he felt his coiled muscles relax, his body soften against hers and his heart warm.

Even if it was hopeless, they had now, and he was too tired to think past it. He did not want to look to the future, which was dark and shadowed with so much danger and uncertainty. Not when everything was so perfect now.

After a long moment, he lifted his face to press a whisper of a kiss against her temple, stray strands of raven hair tickling his face. Lucan bit his lip, finally nudging her away slightly so his grey eyes could meet hers.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked, his gaze boring into hers, trying his best to see the truth past the storm of emotions that darkened the blue. “Anything. But just know I just want you to stay. We can deal with tomorrow when it comes. Even if you want to…” He took a shuddering breath, steeling himself. “Even if you want this finished. But please, just let me have today. Just a few hours.”

The kiss was slow and calm, everything that those shared with her husband and even that which they shared last night, were not. She moaned as Lucan lightly spread his long fingers over the gentle curve of her neck, digits grazing her cream skin until fire coursed thick and heavy through her blood.

Her mind was clouded in thick smog, too far consumed with Lucan’s hands gently caressing her neck to notice who pulled away first. As her mind cleared she felt her arms gently move around his neck, fingers toying with the soft stands of ash hair. She felt him lean in, head resting tiredly against her neck as her eyes drifted shut. The moment, in any other circumstance would be perfect and she found her body melting into his, moaning in contentment.

She bit her lip as he brought his face up to hers, kissing her temple with such tenderness that a shiver coursed down her spine. The sweetness of the gesture made her smile, a small sigh escaping from her lips as his words echoed confidentially through the vast heat of the room.

“What do you want me to do? Anything. But just know I just want you to stay. We can deal with tomorrow when it comes. Even if you want to…even if you want this finished. But please, just let me have today. Just a few hours.” She smiled against his cheek, the warmth of his body seeping into her bones and igniting her in an infectious smile. The revelation that her heart had now completely split into two fragments, one held firmly within Lucan’s grip that could be so easily crushed. Brushing his cheek lightly she felt a small blush creep onto her pale skin, her hand caressing his smooth flesh.

‘I would give you the world if I could, I would stay with you, like this forever.’ She gestured around the room and bit her lip, smile fading a little as her eyes settled on the darkened horizon. Her maids would be returned in a few hours and yet she found herself unwilling to leave Lucan’s calming presence. She leant in, lips lightly brushing his in a chaste and brief kiss that stole her breath slightly.

She regretfully moved her hand down from his face, fingers trailing languidly over his overshirt until they reached a calloused palm. Entwining her long digits with his own she smiled up at him, face finally open, all masks of pretence of nonchalance discarded. She was finally being honest to not only herself but to this man that now held her soul in his fingers. Biting her lip she turned, hand firmly grasping his and moved to face the fire, skirts sweeping behind her as she pulled him toward the seats.

She laughed a little as she eyed the honey coloured dog, turning her body so she was faced with Lucan. Quirking her eyebrows she giggled, thumb still tracing patterns over his own. She leant in, voice mocking and in a whisper, as if her revelation was some great secret. ‘Dog’s don’t like me Lucan.’

Lucan cocked a fair eyebrow, looking down on Clare’s upturned face. His blood seeped heavy and warm through his veins, heating his neck and flushing it a low red. The fire was dying out a bit now and sending a wave of orange light over Clare so her blue eyes glowed with warmth. Her thumb skimming over his own sent a shiver straight through him.

Lucan felt a familiar, lop sided grin unfurl on his face, though it was slow and tired. He hadn't smiled like this in a full day - not since those first words in Clare's chambers, before the shouting and stinging words had echoed around them.

"This one will," he told her confidently. "He likes everyone." Wrapping his fingers more tightly through hers, feeling her cool palm encased in his own, he tugged her gently towards the sofa. "I got him for hunting, but he wouldn't hurt a fly. He's useless. Aren't you?" The last words were directed to the animal, who lifted its head and gave the blonde man a look that could have been described as withering. If he was human, clearly.

Lucan remembered his pets jumping all over the Lady Kadeligh, and smiled. But with the heat being thrown from the fire, he felt yet another ache of exhaustion and fought back a yawn without success. Grasping the dog gently by the scruff of the neck, he urged it off the sofa and offered the vacated seat to Clare with a gracious sweep of his stiff arm, his pulled muscles tender.

Lucan considered taking the space next to her, but decided against it. They may have just shared a kiss that stole the ground from beneath him, may have revealed too much already, but ending up curled together on his sofa was hardly respectable. And there was every chance he would just lose himself in her, and John or Taran or anyone could appear and take them by surprise. For a soldier such as Lucan, the sudden lack of self-control was frightening.

So he let himself fall ungainly onto the low coffee table, facing the Queen and close enough for his knee to nudge hers lightly. The dog, who had slunk away once its bed was stolen, returned to place its head on its weary master's knee. Lucan tugged at its golden ears gently, his eyes drinking in the sight of Clare sitting opposite. The corner of the book he had abandoned was still poking out from the cushion, it's pages crumpled. The gleam of his sword could be seen over her shoulder, reflecting firelight.

A sudden memory shot through him, as vivid as his own sitting room. A similar blade sweeping through the air. Taran's eyes widening, a splash of scarlet. Lucan shut his eyes tight, shaking the image from his head before it took hold. He had started something here, speaking of things he had vowed to keep locked in the back of his mind.

He smiled tightly, cracking open his eyelids to reveal Clare's face before him. "Sorry," he smiled, reaching up to clasp his fair hair between his fingers, then running them down to press on tired grey eyes. His knee still bumped against hers, sending a spark between them. "It's been a long day. I'm not myself."

Clare smiled as Lucan swept into a low bow, offering the now vacated seat, his dog now lying near its master. She quirked her eyebrows, long skirts pooling around her cream ankles as she settled herself contently back into the warm comfort. She bit her lip as Lucan practically fell into the seat opposite her, knee grazing hers through Madge’s course dress. His face was tired and drawn, he looked exhausted and Clare fought the urge to settle herself in the chair with him. Longing to feel his strong body embrace hers as his fingers toyed with the curve of her jaw or lightly entwining in her ebony hair.

Practicality and decency wouldn’t allow her to surrender to her longing however. If his manservant or lord forbid the utter fool Taran stumbled in then she would be shamed, as would Lucan. All the unthinkable consequences that had been screamed last night would be brought into startling reality. The thought made her breathe deep, chest rising in sporadic shakes. She averted her gaze back to Lucan, sighing as his eyes lazily drifted shut. He seemed pained as his brows knitted in concentration and a wave of anguish.

She smiled a little sadly as his eyes cracked open, a forced grin on his face. Lucan wasn’t one to be low as her experience went and it was exceedingly unpleasant. "Sorry, It's been a long day. I'm not myself." She shook her head, averting her eyes and swallowing. The way he had seemed so frustrated as his hands tiredly clawed at his hair and face made her heart drop and she took a deep breath before smiling. She tentatively reached a fair hand out to grasp his cool fingers, smiling reassuringly.

‘I need you to be honest, if we are really doing whatever this is, we have to be frank with each other,’ Her eyes were wide and open as she pleaded. Shifting to the edge of her seat so her skirts brushed against his knees. ‘I promise I won’t throw a pitcher at your head this time.’ She grinned and giggled in an attempt to ease the mounting tension.

Seeing such a compassionate man in such blatant anguish broke her already fragmented heart a little and Clare swallowed, eyes boring passionately into his. She averted her eyes, hands still encasing Lucan’s worn palm. Things were hideously complicated and yet she was enjoying being enveloped in the maddening world of lust and pain. She giggled, fumbling with an intrusive object settled below her. ‘Lucan, what may I ask is stuck down here?’ She laughed, trying to interject some humour back into the conversation.

After a few minutes of attempting to fumble down the side she managed to grasp the spine of her book, buried beneath her pools of skirts. Pulling out the thickly bound pages she studied it in the warming firelight, thumbing the pages lightly before smiling to herself and turning her face toward Lucan. ‘A book? Might I enquire as to what it’s about?’

She raised her eyes again, narrowing them mockingly at him. She had never once found someone who read as much theology nor literature as she. Her family, even before established in court became patron to numerous intellectuals and artists, her favourites the poets and musicians. She would spend hours, fingering the parchments of her favourite laureates. Words painted sporadically over the pages. The way a poets mind worked had fascinated her and she herself had been the subject of some of her favourite courtesans words.

Smiling a little as she shook herself from her curious reverie, bright eyes turned upwards to his grey orbs. ‘I shall have to loan you a few of my own Lucan, you’d enjoy them I’m sure.’

Clare’s long, soft fingers entangled with his own, the two sets of long digits knotting together awkwardly as though second nature. She looked up at him, half of her face thrown into shadow so her swooping cheekbones were highlighted.

‘I need you to be honest, if we are really doing whatever this is, we have to be frank with each other. I promise I won’t throw a pitcher at your head this time.’

Lucan lifted an eyebrow sarcastically, a smirk quirking the corners of his mouth upwards. “I’d duck,” he told her matter-of-factly, his stormy grey eyes twinkling. Then he fell silent, biting down on the inside of his cheek in deep thought, his free hand falling down to pet the dog again, while his other remained interlaced with Clare’s own.

“Ask me anything,” he finally decided. If she wanted to know, he would gladly tell her. He would happily pour his heart out to the young woman before him if she so wished. He’d give her anything right now, and the truth was included. But he couldn’t start without knowing what she wanted. After all, there was so much he could say, he didn’t know where to start.

‘Lucan, what may I ask is stuck down here?’ Her hand slipped from his, and Lucan propped his chin absently in the dip of his palm, watching with a faint smile as she scrabbled around the side of the sofa. ‘A book? Might I enquire as to what it’s about? I shall have to loan you a few of my own Lucan, you’d enjoy them I’m sure.’

Lucan tilted his head, blonde strands obscuring his vision as his tired eyes focused on the book, glad of the change of subject. It was a thick volume, crumpled and well-thumbed. The pages were faded from being exposed to too much sunlight, the leather cover worn.

“I'm sure I would. And that is a book of short stories, so it’s about everything.” He finally smiled. “It was my Mother’s. She used to read it to me when I was younger and we were waiting for my Father to return from battle. I didn’t really understand it then… I still don’t, to be honest. The language is too flowery. But when I moved to Camelot she gave it to me.” He reached out, levering the book from Clare’s grasp and flicking open the front cover, where a short dedication in his Mothers handwriting still stood out, black ink stark against the yellowed paper. He smiled to himself, running a thumb over the swooping words.

He thought of his aging parent, still stubbornly refusing to come to Camelot to be cared for, insisting on looking after the Family home. She had a fire in her, similar to the one he often saw spark behind Clare’s bright blue eyes. He knew the two would get on, but also that his Mother could never hear the truth about whatever her son and this young Royal shared.

“I think she hoped the moral lessons in them would keep me on the right path,” he chuckled, snapping the book closed and passing it back to Clare.

Lucan had a collection of books, all scattered haphazardly around the house, but this was the one he always returned to. Especially when he was finding reality hard to deal with. The stories cast him back to simpler times, forever linked in his sub-conscious to the thrill of seeing his battle-weary Father ride into the courtyard, exhausted but safe. A happy memory to drown out whichever horrific new ones he had collected.

“Ask me anything,” She gripped his hand a little tighter, hesitant to stir troubled memories that she was sure he would not want to evoke. Part of her mind nagged to let things lie but the curious part, the dominant part wouldn’t allow her to stumble into whatever this was so blindly. She closed her eyes shaking her head a little before drawing a shaking breath. She wasn’t sure why Lucan’s past affected her so much, the thought that he was perhaps just as cruel and manipulative as any other man was maddening. She bit her lip, cracking open her eyes to meet his and awkwardly moving her face away from his to the fire.

‘Why do look as you’ve been awake for weeks on end and why are your hands still shaking? Lucan I don’t care what you’ve done and I don’t care who you think you are, I can’t see you like this and not know what is causing it.’ Her eyes and face had gradually inched back around to face his, breath coming in sporadic gasps as the passion dripped from her words. She despised the loathsome feeling of inadequacy and whatever Lucan was feeling, she was sure she would relate.

“It was my Mother’s. She used to read it to me when I was younger and we were waiting for my Father to return from battle...But when I moved to Camelot she gave it to me.”

She smiled a little, harsh words ringing in her head, after all who was she to ask on his personal life and memories that she doubted he wanted to restore. She had, in her mind separated Lucan from the averages of society and it was a little odd to think of him within a family unit. She pictured a beautiful fair haired woman, much like her son with warm eyes and kind smile. She felt a sweet smile tug the corners of her mouth and she looked down, flushed from the overwhelming heat and visions of youth addled Lucan.

She pictured Lucan as one of the gangly, lanky boys that you always saw from the corner of your eye and held a special, reserved smile for. He undoubtedly had young ladies fluster around him but never pictured him as one of the cruel men that flitted from girl to girl. She wanted to press on, ask him about growing up in whatever estate he did. Such odd and insignificant details about the man that had captured her fractured heart warmed her a little and she felt a swell of red on her cheeks.

‘I can picture you know Lucan, with your mother that is. My father and Eun...’ She bit her lip, looking away and letting her breath rise and fall. She shouldn’t feel guilty about mentioning her husband and yet after last night’s desperate screams of anger, she refrained and instead put on a slightly forced smile. ‘My father bought me a prayer book a few years back and I’ve kept it with me wherever I go, I find it calms me.’

“I think she hoped the moral lessons in them would keep me on the right path,” Her smile relaxed a little and she leant back, letting her head loll back against the chair back, exposing the cream white of her neck. She didn’t mean to pry and yet with every blissfully serene moment with Lucan she felt more at ease to talk.

‘What was she like? Your mother?’ Her voice was a little detached as she gradually lifted her head so her fierce blue eyes transfixed on his.

((sorry it’s a bit rubbish!))

‘What was she like? Your mother?’

Lucan shrugged, his grey eyes locked with hers. A small smile played around his lips. "I don't know... She's my Mother. She's stubborn, and funny. She likes reading, sewing and planting flowers. You would get on, I think... If you agreed. Otherwise you'd have massive arguments." He chuckled. Both of the women he thought of were strong and passionate, in control of themselves and their opinions. If they clashed, there would surely be fireworks, but they could also be a formidable team.

"I've been asking her to come to Camelot. She's not as young as she was, and I worry," he admitted. "But she will not leave home, she says it connects her to Father. I don't believe she ever got over losing him."

His fond smile became slightly sad, and Lucan looked away at his hands, one tangled with hers, the other still petting the golden head of the dog. Sure enough, there was a slight tremble to the long digits. He sighed heavily, biting down hard on his lip and suddenly searching for words that simply refused to come, finally allowing himself to give in to her earlier plea. Her soft, comforting voice echoed in his ears. - 'I can’t see you like this and not know what is causing it.’

"I did the night watch," he finally started, his voice sudden and sharp. "Then I met you in the courtyard, and i couldn't sleep afterwards. Then last night, I didn't sleep again. I did nearing eleven hours of training today." His voice tumbled over itself, becoming slightly frantic. He looked up at her, tongue darting out to wet his dry lips as his eyes locked uncertainly with Clare's sapphire orbs. "When I'm busy, there's not time to think. I need to be distracted. But with you..."

He stalled, thinking carefully. He didn't even know himself why Clare unlocked things inside him, brought his usually carefully guarded emotions to the front, and a catalogue of painful memories with them. She brought out the best and the worst of him. Lucan found himself leaning forward, is grip on her hand tightening as he gazed pleadingly across the heavy space between them.

"Find one soldier who does not have nightmares," he told her harshly. "I know who I am. I am so proud of what I do. I would lay down my life for the Prince, or my King, or Camelot without a second thought, but sometimes... sometimes it's hard." The words caught in the back of his throat, causing Lucan's voice to become strangled and trail off.

He remembered, painfully, his first real battle for Camelot. He had just been a boy himself, and it had been foggy and raining the day Lucan had crouched behind the body of a fallen horse. A man perhaps three years older than him had stumbled over the boggy battlefield, his boots sinking into the mud, gasping for breath. An arrow was buried deeply into his shoulder, and he had fallen, grasping out for something only he could see. Someone had shouted at him, harsh orders that rang in his ears, and his blood had run hot.

Lucan had hurdled over the dead animal and forced his sword between that man's ribs. Then, minutes later, when Camelot had won and they were collecting the injured, he had vomited until his stomach was empty, tears streaming down his young face and blood matted in his hair. In time, he had become hardened, cold. He no longer reacted like that, and did that make him an evil person?

Lucan looked back to Clare, reality battling back into existance. Opening his mouth, he found his memory still there, clogging his throat and preventing words. He shut his lips again, shaking his head and twisting his anguished face to the roaring fire. Why did she make him talk about it? Why had he allowed her to awaken memories he had prayed were long dead, to have this power over him? The dog wimpered, and Lucan felt the rough warmth over his palm as it licked his hand. "I can't talk about it," he finally managed. "Never. It hurts."

He didn't look back at her, just letting the fire throw its heat over his face until he could barely stand it.

‘Find one soldier who does not have nightmares, I know who I am. I am so proud of what I do. I would lay down my life for the Prince, or my King, or Camelot without a second thought, but sometimes... sometimes it's hard.’ Clare’s eyes widened a little at the controlled anger escalating in his usually reserved voice. She nodded solemnly, not daring to answer when there was nothing that could be said. She would never have to experience the cruelty that Lucan had inflicted, nor push it upon others and yet she found herself oddly connected to his mesmerising voice.

Clare had killed people, albeit indirectly and never by her actual hand and yet she still felt tainted to this day. The horror, mixing inside Lucan’s topaz eyes made her stomach clench involuntarily. She found, she didn’t want to know, didn’t want her view on the man to change from the sweet and gentle courtier. She smiled reassuringly at him, hand ripping his tighter as he words rolled effortlessly from her tongue, calm and understanding.

‘You should be proud, your actions have saved hundreds of lives and I truly envy not only your bravery but your modesty on what you have done.’ Her word held a note of patronising that was unintended in its entirety. She raised his now familiar knuckles to her smooth lips, grazing the chapped surface with a brief kiss. He didn’t deserve the pain he seemed to be shouldering and she sighed at the thought. No citizen of Camelot would ever know how their brave knights tossed and turned at night, fretful dreams shaking their bodies into hysterical fits. It wasn’t fair she mused.

Her eyes slowly rose as his head shifted awkwardly to the fire, a mask securely over everything they had shared as his voice echoed around the room.

‘I can't talk about it, never. It hurts.’ She smiled, a little disappointed by his lack of trust and swallowed calling his name out tentatively for him to look her way. His eyes kept transfixed on the dull embers and she called a little louder, firmer and still no reply. She hated the feeling of being closed out and with one decisive breath, firmly let go of his hand, discarding the worn book on the coffee table. Her long skirts pooled around her as she sunk onto her knees in front of him, forcing his gaze to meet hers as dust coated the cream dress.

‘Lucan, look at me,’ She reached her hands up to his face, fingers grazing over his cheekbone. ‘You don’t have to talk about it but I am a Queen, on my knees to a foreign knight as my maids think I’m in the chapel. Humour me?’ She laughed coolly, a grin spreading on her pale features as she thought at the incredulity of the situation.

‘I promise if you don’t want me to, I won’t ever mention this again, but I am here, in front of you if you ever need me Lucan.’

‘Lucan, look at me,’ Cool hands reached up, slipping around the square bone of Lucan's jaw and pulling slightly, forcing him to tilt his chin. Clare sat on the floor before him, bathed in flickering light with dust collecting on the pale fabric of her skirt. ‘You don’t have to talk about it but I am a Queen, on my knees to a foreign knight as my maids think I’m in the chapel. Humour me?’

Her dark eyebrows lifted, her mouth curving into an incredulous laugh that was like a dagger to his heart. Lucan's mind threatened to replay another memory, and he shut his eyes tight against it, focusing instead on the soft hill of Clare's palm against his cheek, turning his face into it. Her long fingers pressed into the ridge of his cheekbone.

‘I promise if you don’t want me to, I won’t ever mention this again, but I am here, in front of you if you ever need me Lucan.’

"I know," he finally replied, truthfully, his voice catching on the images balanced bitterly at the back of his tongue. But he still needed something, anything, to drown out the shouting that echoed back from his past, fogging his brain.

Leaning forward, he allowed her hands to slip from his face down onto his shoulders, around his neck. He found the innocent spot where Clare's bare neck met her shoulder, pressing his lips to the elegant curve of pale skin before lifting his head. Lucan found himself pressing his cheek against hers, his slight stubble rough against her smooth, flawless skin as strong arms encirled her, holding her close gently so their hearts beat within inches of each other. The fire danced before him, sending a fierce heat over the pair as he rested in contented silence, the only sound the crackle of burning logs and their own ragged breathing.

Clares presence, the feeling of her small, warm body curled against his own, seemed to release something within him, rushing through his body like warm water. It soothed his frayed nerves, released the pent up anger and tension from his coiled muscles. Lucan sighed heavily, his relaxed breath causing the dark waves of Clare's hair to sway softly as he shut his eyes against it.

Tiredness crept back up on him, lying heavily over his head until he was sure he could just fall asleep where he was, curled before the fire with the young woman who had cast such a spell on him. But he wouldn't let himself, in case he woke up and she was gone without him. So he forced himself to keep his gray eyes open, watching the dance of the flames as seconds and minutes ticked by.

There was a hot, furry body pressed against his arm, and then something cold and wet pressed against his temple, burrowing through his blonde fringe to press against skin. Lucan blanched, snapping away from Clare's warm body to stare incredulously. The dog looked calmly back at him, eventually pressing forward to lick his Masters flushed cheek.

"I hate you," Lucan told the dog seriously, pushing it away, his fingers curling through golden fur. The animal looked vaguely offended for a split second, then wagged its tail eagerly, its tongue lolling out of its mouth. Lucan groaned, one arm still curled absently around Clare and feeling his pulse throb through his veins as he fought back a wonky, sleepy smile. He looked back to Clare, ignoring the animal currently pawing at his leg.

"I'm sorry." he told her, his voice hushed as he pulled his arm back from around her, feeling cold air rush in to fill the void of her embrace. He couldn't help but feel embarrassed at his own weakness. It wasn't like he hadn't lost control of himself before, but it was always alone, lying in his darkened bedroom with nothing but the two dogs for company. It just didn't fit with the image of the strong Knight of Camelot he felt obliged to mould himself into. He felt himself blush, and had to look away from her for the smallest moment, biting down on his lip. His gaze fell on the cream skirts piled around Clare on the floor, hiding her slender frame in a mountain of pale cotton.

"This isn't Anne's, is it?" He asked, running a hand over the cloud of fabric. The white folds were dusty from the floor, where ash had been coughed out by the fire. "Won't she go mad?" He quirked an eyebrow, trying to inject some humour and bypass his own humiliation at such a risky display of emotion. But still, he did wonder. After all, the Queens maid, from what he had seen, seemed very highly strung...

Clare moaned as he lightly grazed his perfect lips over the tender cream flesh below her jaw and she smiled contently, letting her eyes drift shut. Her body melted peacefully into his warm embrace as his strong armed shrouded her, fingers wrapping protectively around her lithe frame as her own hands drifted down to his collarbone. She stayed with him as the tension visibly ebbed from his muscles, time a triviality as she breathed deeply letting the serenity consume her.

She absently heard him apologise as the dog that had been content to lie next to Lucan, pawed at his masters face. She smiled wearily, drained as Lucan reciprocated the gesture. ‘I'm sorry.’ His voice was quiet, muffled by his head still led peacefully in the crook of her pale neck. She felt him mournfully drag his arm away and she returned her hands to his face, lightly stroking the contours of his cheekbone. She sighed and let her hands fall absently to her skirts as she shook her head. Her smile faded as he looked away, flushed and embarrassed by his apparent lack of self control.

‘I don’t mind, although I don’t want to start vying for your attention against your dogs, they would undoubtedly win.’ Her voice was quiet as was her subsequent laugh and her fingers flirted absently with the sleeves of her ladies course gown. Lucan, quiet Lucan especially unnerved her and yet she was relieved to see him past the bravado and boyish exterior. Clare held a new respect for the man in front of her, he seemed so perfect but he was not afraid to admit flaws and her fractured heart swelled.

She laughed a little louder as his playful voice echoed around them, illuminating the room as he attempted to distract her. ‘This isn't Anne's, is it? Won't she go mad?’ His fingers toyed with the dense fabric that pooled around her ankles and knees. She shook her head, a bright smile on her face. ‘It’s Madge’s, she’s more tolerant and she shan’t know anyway, besides Anne couldn’t do anything besides think me strange anyway. How did you guess it wasn’t mine?’

Clare laughed jovially as she thought of her dear sweet lady before turning her face back to Lucan’s. ‘If you really want to get to know me better then you shall have to learn all their names, although I have well over a hundred staff at my palace so only my travelling ladies will be necessary.’ She laughed mockingly, raising an eyebrow at Lucan before gently clasping his hand with hers. Her thumb traced light patterns in the now familiar flesh and she looked up, through dark eyelashes to study him.

He was strikingly handsome as the fire danced shadows over his weary face. Despite the black marks under his tired grey eyes and mussed hair, he was a vision of Adonis nonetheless and Clare flushed a little. His blonde hair shimmered a brilliant gold in the cast of firelight and his eyes flashed almost peridot in the flames reflection. Her grip tightened as she laughed, biting her lip before her pale face sunk into a smirk. With on decisive movement she pulled and watched as Lucan crashed to the floor with her as she carefully avoided his injured wrist.

Her hysterical laughs echoed around the room as she raised a hand to stifle the playful mocking. Her voice was marred with choked giggles as she stuttered in amusement. ‘You see? It’s not dusty at all.’ Her laugh sounded around the chamber as she raised her arms to languidly drape over his shoulders, shifting her body to face his as her smile broadened eyes playfully boring into his. The only thing that stirred was their frantic breathing and the rhythm of her beating heart.

‘I don’t mind, although I don’t want to start vying for your attention against your dogs, they would undoubtedly win.’

Lucan pouted, reaching from the fabric to his pet, still sitting loyal and stern at his side. He was glad the tension had lifted, seemingly as quickly as ripping a sheet from a bed, leaving the room warm and cosy. "I love them," he told her sternly, rubbing a rough hand harshly over the thick honey fur so the dog panted happily. "You must accept that." He held back a smile, looking at her through a mask of seriousness, though his stony eyes glimmered with amusement.

It was funny, how she was able to turn him from a laughing man to a quivering wreck and back again so easily. Though Lucan's body still ached, and a tired headache pounded gently behind his temples, he felt an odd relief from his haunted memories. A relief he hadn't felt in a long time. He caught Clare's eye, admiring the way her dark hair shone an almost magical blue in the firelight.

'How did you guess it wasn’t mine? If you really want to get to know me better then you shall have to learn all their names...’

He grinned cheekily at her, his face falling into the familiar wonky smile as he scoffed. "I'm not learning all their names. I can barely remember Anne's. And it's rather obvious its not yours. It's hardly your usual style is it? I think you donned a disguise so you could sneak round here and shout at me." He paused, his face falling into a falsely thoughtful expression. "That is, before you fell for my boyish charm."

As he spoke, Clare's long fingers had laced absently through his own, her thumb tracing a vague, comforting pattern across his skin. Suddenly, with no obvious reason, her smile broadened. Lucan frowned, a faint line appearing between his fair eyebrows as the grin became broader and more mischevious. If you had told him now that this woman, in her plain cotton dress and broad smile, was the Queen Consort of some foreign Kingdom, he would not have believed you. At the moment, she was just... Clare. And for now at least, she was his.

There was a yank on his arm, and Lucan felt his sore shoulder twinge painfully before he was sprawled on the floor. Clare's laughter erupted, and he turned his head, blonde hair fanning out behind him, to look at her. She clasped a hand over the wide curve of her mouth, her cheeks flushed and hair falling from its severe prison, starting to fan behind her like a bizarre halo. She shifted, slinging a long and slender arm over his broad shoulders.

Lucan lifted an eyebrow. "Okay... Ouch?" He bit back a smile, his fingers encircling the soft skin of her wrist and gently travelling up her arm to her elbow, rubbing her forearm gently as darting shadows ran across them both.

"Right," he said. "This," he waved a hand absently to their current predicament, "is very undignified. You are being very immature, Clare." He finally allowed his smile to escape, letting it spread over his face in a mirror of her own as he fell back onto his back, Clare's face hovering angelically above him. There was a warm and familiar pressure upon his legs, and Lucan rolled stormy grey eyes. "And now a dog is sitting on me. I hope you're happy, because you do realise I'm never moving now."

He grinned, slipping his hand behind his head as a pillow and falling back, looking cockily up at the woman's pale face above him. His hand travelled slowly from the soft skin of her forearm to tuck a stray tendril of raven hair behind her ear. He was strangely comfortable, with Clare's arm slung casually over his shoulders, her weight against his chest. The floor was warm from the heat of the fire, and he let his eyes lift lazily shut, his smile still rooted firmly in place.

"You'll have to tell the Prince I won't make training. Ever again." He cracked open one eye, glinting with mischief, looking up at her through the orange and red light of the fire. "But you are very welcome to stay for a while." Her face consumed his vision, inches from his. Clare's bright eyes were blue and amazing and enormous in her pale skin, contrasting starkly with the colour of her hair and her growing smile as he examined her through the cracked eyelid.

‘Right, this is very undignified. You are being very immature, Clare.’ His long fingers travelled the length of her forearm, worn hands tracing magnificent patterns over the cream skin. His hand slid effortlessly behind his golden halo of hair and his face relaxed into a contented smile. Clare let her arm slip from his shoulder, languidly travelling down the length of his chest as he mimicked the action on her arm. She smiled, moving her pale fingers to toy absently with golden whips of hair as his eyes gently closed.

‘Then I humbly apologise Sir Lucan, I was being foolish.’ She couldn’t contain her laugh at the end and she grinned broadly at him, wisps of loose charcoal hair fluttered around her eyes as Lucan tenderly pushed them back. Clare’s smile faded into that of pure contentment as she sighed, allowing herself to slip effortlessly onto the floor beside Lucan, hand still flirting with his blonde locks.

Their bodies were lying so close on the warm wooden floor, smiles etched on pale faces as they lovingly toyed with each other’s hair. In any other place, before her marriage before everything became so utterly complicated Clare couldn’t have been happier. Even with vicious thoughts of lying in a similar embrace with a decidedly different man, floating precariously in her head. Clare found herself calm and utterly absorbed with the knights every movement. She cautiously let her eyes drift shut only to open as quickly when Lucan’s pleasant voice transcended through the air.

‘You'll have to tell the Prince I won't make training. Ever again. But you are very welcome to stay for a while.’ She eyed him curiously for a moment, fingers propping her from the floor, pale digits splayed in her ebony hair that was rapidly falling down. She smiled hand moving to his cheek once again, the action soothing her as her grin broadened genuinely. ‘I’ll speak to him myself as soon as I can pry myself away from you. You honestly think I’d leave?’

She leant down, dark hair lightly brushing his face as her lips grazed his another time before she smiled, pulling away and settling herself contently by his side. She assumed the novelty of kissing him would wear off after a few hours and yet her heart still beat madly in her chest as she let her eyes contently drift shut.

She didn’t know how long the compatible silence droned on or why she was quite so rooted to her position lying firmly within Lucan’s grasp but she wouldn’t have changed it. His face was hairs away and as she mournfully opened her emerald eyes, they fell directly on his beautiful face. He was still smiling despite his eyes closed shut to the world and he looked as if her were one of those magnificent statues that decorate palace gardens and chapels. She cocked her head to the side; squinting and she reached her hand out, stroking the side of his face and grazing his cheekbone with her knuckles.

‘I’m just making sure you’re real and not some perfect god that decided to completely steal my heart.’It wasn’t completely true but Lucan was well on his way to grabbing hold of the part of her soul held firmly within her husband’s grasp. She smiled hand slowing to a stop as she stared perfectly into his grey eyes and her breath hitched in her throat.

The heavy silence pressed down on Lucan's chest and he found himself lost in the sensation of Clare's long fingers drawing through his fair, too-long hair. Sleep kept creeping up on him, sneaking into the edges of his vision and fogging his brain, but he fought it back determinedly.

Clare's cool fingers slipped down his face, leaving a burning trail of nerves behind her, and he felt a lazy, contented smile flourish over his face. ‘I’ll speak to him myself as soon as I can pry myself away from you. You honestly think I’d leave?’

There was a sudden shifting over him, and he felt Clare's lithe body warm his own for a moment, fine strands of hair tickle his face as soft lips grazed against his. The floor shifted beneath him, and then she pulled back, he could imagine the soft smile on her face as clearly as day. Lucan let out a long breath, feeling it hiss through his nostrils and take the last of his tension with it.

There was a long, contented pause. The fire was still beating out heat, sending it in a wave over his side and warming one of his cheeks so it flushed a gentle pink. He could hear the gentle rise and fall of Clare's breathing next to him, almost perfectly matching his own. He didn't know how long it was until he once again felt soft fingertips against his cheekbone, exploring the worn contours of his face. He cracked open shadowed grey eyes, finding it a sudden effort in his weary state.

‘I’m just making sure you’re real and not some perfect god that decided to completely steal my heart,'

Her hand stilled, resting comfortably on the curve of his cheek as she gazed thoughtfully into his face. Her large eyes were hypnotising, pulling the young Knight in like a tide and refusing to release him. Even if he wanted to be. Lucan let a gentle smile flirt across his lips, teasing them into a pleasant curve.

"Nobody's perfect," he replied, quirking an eyebrow teasingly before rolling himself towards her. The dog, forgotten for a while, whimpered and scurried away from its perch on top of his Master's legs. Lucan watched it dissapear irritably under the coffee table, before smirking and propping himself up on one elbow.

He bit gently on his bottom lip, looking down on Clare's pale face thoughtfully. Her dark hair, falling messily down from its bun, spread across the stone of the floor, her porcelain skin shocking against its darkness. Vaguely, he brushed some stray strands off her high forehead, and dipped his head to press his lips to hers. He could feel their smiles merging, lips and faces flushing together in the heat of the fire until he reluctantly pulled away.

"If I start to snore," he muttered, "nudge me. I don't want to sleep. Falling back onto his stomach, he crossed his arms on the stone, working them as a pillow. He let out a gentle sigh. Clare's body was close to his own, curled up against him comfortingly. But even that brief contact sent a fizz through his veins and a put skip in his heartbeat.

"If John comes in now, I'll be in such trouble," he told her, slight amusement playing at the edge of his voice. His manservant would almost certainly give him a lecture, at least - he honestly seemed to think he was his Father as well as his servant. His voice, when he continued, was slightly muffled by the cushion of his arm. "I'll tell him you fainted. You'll have to do some acting."

"Nobody's perfect," She smiled fingers rubbing calming circles into his cheek as she leant forward lips tantalisingly close to his ear, blonde wisps of hair tickling her pale flesh. ‘You are, to me at least.’She smiled, lips lightly grazing his temple in a subtle kiss. Lucan was the epiphany of good; the change in both appearance and personality could not have been more different. Perhaps that was why she was quite so absorbed by the fair haired man, and the reason she moaned as he tenderly held her, strong arms propping his head up so grey eyes transfixed themselves on blue.

She smiled against his mouth as he leant in capturing her pale lips with his own in a moment that shattered her sanity. The kiss was slow and sweet and she felt her mouth curving into a weary smile as he reluctantly pulled away, blonde hair sticking to her forehead. She laughed a little as he rolled himself onto his stomach, eyes drifting shut in a state of exhaustion. In that moment, that insignificant cluster of unimportant seconds he took her breath away and a grin split onto her face as she rolled on her back, hairs away from her company.

"If I start to snore, nudge me. I don't want to sleep.’ His voice was drawn as exhaustion took hold of his weary body and she suppressed a smile at the man. Lucan could evoke fear into the hearts of kings and yet here he lay, completely at ease, fire warming his contented face. She let tired hands rb away the sleep that threatened to consume her, sighing as her fingers resumed toying absently with strands of ash blonde hair.

‘If you’re tired you should sleep Lucan, you said you didn’t get any last night.’ Her voice was absent, distant as her mind settled into sleepless dreams, a warm smile on her face as his absent voice rang amused through the air.

"If John comes in now, I'll be in such trouble, I'll tell him you fainted. You'll have to do some acting." She laughed and smiled, eyeing the door a little warily, albeit inadvertently. If John or god forbid, Taran walked in than Lucan’s plan sounded the most viable.

Her eyes dozily drifted shut and she raised her eyebrows as the lethargic form of Lucan, brow furrowed a little in amusement. ‘What if Taran walked in? That would be hilarious.' She laughed picturing his mouth gaping open and eyes wide with shock. She smiled back at Lucan once again, eyes boring into the side of his face. 'Can I not tell him you fainted? Although I suppose my acting skills are far superior, as you said so last night.’

She smiled a little regretfully to herself, Lucan’s harsh words still apparent in her mind. Her voice was calm and yet she couldn’t get over the dull pain in her chest. Lucan, of all people had insinuated things that she would not dare re-verbalise. She sighed a little, hand slowing to a stop in his hair as the silence consumed them.

‘What’ll I say to Jane? It took her near an hour to fasten my hair up and now look at it.’ She laughed a little and her eyes cracked upon, trying to catch a glimpse of the darkening sky. She wasn’t sure quite how long she had been here with the man that quite literally stole her breath, but she knew it far more than John would deem appropriate. Nan and the others would no doubt be returning soon, an hour at most and she sighed regretfully, fingers lightly moving their way back to clasp in front of the cream bodice that hung loosely from her chest.

‘I’m going to have to go soon.’ She led still, her breath rising and falling as the fire threw shadows across Lucan’s drawn face. She needed to go, she had to go but for now she was merely content to be lying on the cold, dusty floor with the knight that had won her heart.

‘What if Taran walked in? That would be hilarious.'

Lucan had a sudden flash of Taran's dark curly hair bobbing into view, and his chestnut eyes widening in surprise. He heard himself give a bubbling laugh, lifting a weight off his chest and singing around the room. He knew his friend well enough to know he'd be shocked, would probably give the younger Knight a stern lecture, but would certainly stay silent as to Lucan's current situation. He was his best friend, after all, as close as a brother in a lot of ways.

"He wouldn't tell, though," he pointed out, waving a hand certainly in the air, his eyes still shut to the sight of his familiar sitting room. "He's too afraid of you. He thinks you want his head on a spike." He released his uneven smile, letting its blossom across his face as he cracked open an eyelid slightly. Out of the edge of his vision, Clare's laughing face was visible.

'Can I not tell him you fainted? Although I suppose my acting skills are far superior, as you said so last night.’

"I'm a Knight. I'm too masculine to faint," he retorted. Then he fell silent, a shiver of pain shaking his features for a split second as he remembered the previous night. He had said so many things he regretted, and was glad they seemed to have come to some place where they could forgive, if not forget. He had been angry, and bitterly hurt by what had seemed to be a rejection.

His Mother had always told him he was ruled by his heart rather than his head, and this whole thing with Clare was a perfect example. A more logical man would never have let it develop at all, let alone have let her kiss him under a starry sky and wrap her grip around his heart. He was shaken from his thoughts as Clare's fingertips stopped combing through his blonde strands of hair, her fingers resting gently against his temple.

‘What’ll I say to Jane? It took her near an hour to fasten my hair up and now look at it.’

He laughed, imagining the waves of sound rising upwards to hang over him. An hour on hair. He couldn't imagine it. Lucan's floppy blonde locks looked exactly the same as they did when he had left the house this morning, if perhaps a bit sweatier. "Tell her you got an insect in your hair, and had to tug it out?" he suggested. "I like it better down, anyway."

He reached out, tilting his head to watch as long fingers wound dark strands around his hand and released them into a gentle wave. The carefully washed locks were like silk under his gentle touch, slipping through his fingers like water and cathing the light as he toyed absently. Clare's hands released him, winding down to clasp each other over her bodice as Lucan played with her hair, an easy calm between them.

‘I’m going to have to go soon.’

He sighed heavily. He had known that was coming. The sky outside the window was a deep and dusty blue of twilight, and the moon had appeared. It looked threateningly through the large window, a slim sliver of silver in the sky as stars started to appear randomly around it. Lucan groaned in disapointment, his arm falling loosely down around Clare as he shifted towards her, burying his weary face in her tangle of raven hair.

"Okay," he agreed, his arm tightening around her slender frame and holding her close, his breath stirring against her pale cheek. His body curved comfortably against hers, the rise and fall of his broad chest as he breathed an exact mirror of her own. They folded easily together, he realised, their bodies fitting easily against each other like two pieces of a jigsaw. "Five more minutes," he muttered into her hair.

Clare giggled lightly as Lucan shifted decidedly closer, fingers now trailing languidly over her exposed collarbone before pulling her close and holding her firmly in a warming embrace. The feeling of fulfilment gushed through her blood and swelled in her chest as Lucan’s contented and weary words echoed softly around the room. "Okay, five more minutes,"

She smiled as his face nudged the nape of her neck, exposing the tender area of pale flesh below the gentle slope of her jaw. A sigh escaped her pale lips as she shifted so her body was lying opposite his on her side, fingers rising to his face. Pale digits stroking slow, calming circles in the light stubble framing his jaw. ‘After those five minutes you will ask me for ten more and I can’t do that.’

Her words were mournful as she lightly moved her face to his, lips capturing his in a slow kiss. Her eyes were drifted contently shut as she raised her hand up to heatedly tangle in his hair. Their bodies fitting together as the emotion in the room swelled as the kiss intensified. Lust and passion encapsulated her mind as all traces of their chaste kisses evaporated.

This kiss was different, the pretence of civility and control completely vanishing from her mind as other, far more animalistic tendencies over run her. It was as if all the frustration, all the pain of the last few weeks gushed from her body. She moaned a little against his mouth as her pale, exposed arms draped languidly over his broad shoulders. She would happily stay contented in that perfect moment for her entire existence and yet she found herself pulling back warily.

She groaned as her hands proceeded to detach themselves from his crop of blonde locks that fell in waves and contortions over his gleaming eyes. ‘Sorry.’ She muttered the feeble apology for her apparent lack of restraint and hurriedly dusted herself off. Her eyes met his and she smiled a little sheepishly, clearing her throat and tentatively reaching her hand out to grasp a lever. Content with the seat previously inhabited by Lucan she pulled herself into an awkward sitting position. Her head rushed and she let out a little gasp, blood rushing furiously to her pounding temples as her eyes adjusted to the new position.

The now dimmed moonlight filtered furiously through the open window and she pushed herself from the floor to appreciate the twilight state of the courtyard. ‘It’s a beautiful night tonight.’ Her voice was absent, not really registering the form of Lucan next to her as skirts dragged lazily toward the flush of cold air, flowing freely from the window. Her hands reached the sill as her body finally acknowledged the missing warmth that Lucan’s close proximity evoked.

You have to go. Now. The voice in her head that had been irately reprimanding her for the last few days was terse and she breathed in, letting her mind absently scream at her. She didn’t want to go, it was all she could do not to run back into his arms and she smiled, turning around to face him. ‘Why does it feel as though a gaping hole tears in my chest every time I threaten to leave you?’ Her words were filled with a kind of pained remorse as she sighed, shifting back around to stare longingly from the dim window.


OOC: Come on, it was pretty obvious that she HAD to kiss him properly at some point XD

'After those five minutes you will ask me for ten more and I can't do that.'

Lucan was about to argue his reponse when Clare's soft lips captured his, swallowing his words before they could form. Lucan felt long fingers tangle through his hair, clutching at the golden strands almost painfully as the kiss deepened. She tasted of something sweet and foreign, a strange fruit that fogged his brain and caused his blood to boil.

Clare's slender arm slipped over his shoulders, looping around his neck as she made a faint noise against his lips. Lucan heard himself echoing it, a harsh growling noise that fell into an endless cavern between them as she pulled gently away, leaving Lucan aching and gasping for air. His heart was like thunder captured beneath his ribs, rattling a frantic drumroll in his ears. He found himself reaching for her as she apologised and pulled herself back to a sitting position.

Lucan watched her, breath still shallow, pulse still fluttering madly, as she got to her feet and glided towards the window. His throat had constricted after that last kiss, refusing words an escape.The too-long skirts whispered against the floorboards, their previous creamy colour now tainted with a light grey dust, and the floor by the fireplace suddenly seemed like a bed of ice.

'It's a beautiful night tonight.' Clare's long fingers wound around the sill of the window, the moonlight grazing her face. Her flawless pale skin seemed to swallow the light and push it gently back out. She seemed to glow like a being from another world, and when she turned to glance at him, her eyes stole the oxygen from him. Lucan felt himself rise to his feet, stepping over the dog looking hopefully up at him and swallowing the space between them in several large stride. So when Clare spoke again, he was standing at her shoulder.

'Why does it feel as though a gaping hole tears in my chest every time I threaten to leave you?' Her words were heavy with sadness, a tug at them which ripped Lucan's tender heart a fraction. She turned back to the window, the moon sending a silver blanket down to drape over the couple. Lucan stepped tentatively forward, his rough hands grazing over the young woman's slender shoulders, mapping the rise and fall of her collarbone and commiting it to memory. Dropping his arms to encircle her tiny waist, he gently pulled her back to lean against him.

His chest against her back, he could feel the rhythmic thrum of her heart over his as he looked over her dark head into the darkening sky. A bird fluttered into the courtyard, pecking absently at the cracks in the stone before spreading its wings and taking flight again. Lucan tracked its progress into the cold sky until it vanished from view, then ducked his head to press a brief kiss to the sweet curve of her neck, vulnerable and exposed.

"Because I met you several years too late?" he asked, his voice a low, loving whisper in her ear. "Because neither of us has any idea what's going to happen?" He gave a bittersweet smile, feeling a resigned chill settle over him as he realised the truth in his words. His cheek nudged hers, his embrace still strong and tender as he turned her to face him.

Lucan ran a rough hand over the slope of her forehead, the ridge of her cheekbone and curve of her cheek before he found the arch of her jaw. With a low smile, he hooked a finger under her chin and forced her to tilt her head to meet his stormy gaze. "Don't cry again," he warned her, then pressed another whisper of a kiss to her forehead. "You know I hate it."



OOC: Pretty obvious you'd be the one to initiate it. :P It's gooood Lure though.

Clare felt her mouth lightly gape open as his hands grazed over her lithe shoulders, fingers toying with the slope of her pale collarbone. The light touch of his dextrous fingers was intoxicating and she felt her body give a shiver of pleasure. She groaned, eyes drifting shut as Lucan’s lips grazed the tender area under her cream jaw, smiling as his calm voice rang resigned in her ear.

‘Because I met you several years too late...because neither of us has any idea what's going to happen?’ His voice was warm and sent a subtle shiver up her spine, words warm and calming in her mind as she moaned against him. Her body curved into his as his intense proximity allowing her breath to hitch in her throat.

Clare didn’t respond, her eyes mournfully glared out at the dark, as the harsh line of her mouth drifted into a pleasant smile. She felt her shoulders relax as she lolled her head back into the nook of his neck. Her collarbone arched as she smiled, her face contented and calm as his embrace tightened, warm arms casually capturing her body.

She hated how affected she was by his precious embrace and as he gently adjusted her to lithe body to his. "Don't cry again, you know I hate it." He pressed a light kiss to her pale forehead and she smiled against his face, a smirk tugging playfully at the corners of her mouth. Her eyes were wide and she quirked a dark eyebrow up at him, mocking his apparent evaluation of her now perfectly controlled emotions.

‘I wasn’t planning too, I cry too much when I’m around you.’ Her words were a little detached as she pulled her arms up to drape casually over the arch of his broad and now familiar shoulders. The thought of John walking, apocalyptically furious through the door loomed precariously in her weary mind, but she wouldn’t break this moment for anything.

She truly had no sense of how their relationship could progress past these secret and excruciatingly short meetings. Clare would give her soul itself to be with him longer and her eyes drifted shut as her mind worked every contingency plan and possibility for a more profound way to be together. The only way to move forward was stay within the confines of their designated hours and even that made her feel slightly nauseas.

In the scheme of her issue, not making time to be with her maker was seemingly insignificant and yet it felt so wrong to favour a cardinal sin over the path of righteousness as it were. She eyed him carefully, her face contorted in thought as she smiled a little feebly. ‘I want you to come to my chambers tomorrow, whilst Anne and the others are there. I need you to make a show of an apology, talk with them Jane in particular. Once you get in her good graces, she’ll sing your praises around the land. If you do that then Anne will let you back into my chambers, thus we will have more time for this,’ She gestured flippantly toward the fire before continuing. ‘The first few times you come, Nan’ll supervise the visits like a hawk but she’ll trust you sooner or later to leave us alone, she’s only doing this as she thinks I still hate you, not to be openly malicious .’ She giggled, smiling broadly at him. ‘Besides this will provide an ideal opportunity to learn all of their names. ‘

She smiled encouragingly at her company, playing with the trim of his shirt absently. She raised her fingers to toy with the gentle curve of his high cheekbone. She sighed, raising her eyes to his before putting her other hand to the opposing side of his face so he was forced to look into her eyes. ‘I know this is hard but it is more than worth it, you hear me Lucan?’

She smiled again and lightly pressed a kiss to his forehead, the gesture reciprocating his earlier. She didn’t know why it hurt so much at the thought of the months of struggle ahead if they were ever to progress. The thought clawed at her heart and tore her chest into two distinct separations. Her smile inflated as she looked longingly into his clouded eyes, marvelling at the perfection that lay within. ‘It will be worth it, I know it’s going to be worth it to see your beautiful face everyday whenever we want. If you think it is worth it, and only if you think it and me worth it to risk my ladies wrath.’

‘I cry too much when I’m around you.’

Clare's arms slipped loosely over his shoulders, anchoring him in place, and Lucan smirked. "Now, thats a sentence every man loves to hear," he quipped, a wide smile rearranging his features. But she wasn't listening - she was thinking. He could tell by the sudden tightening of her jaw and the faint indent on her brow. It was unthinkable he had only known her properly a few weeks, but could picture her so vividly, read every emotion as plain as daylight.

Lucan's face morphed into an expression of complete confusion as she drummed out her plan, the words scrambling in his brain so he had to pause for a moment and close his eyes before they made sense. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or the remaining distraction from their last kiss, but eventually he understood.

His eyes cracked open as her long fingers toyed with the light fabric of his shirt, still dirtied from training, then slipped upwards to cradle his face. It was a difficult plan, and sounded like it would take a long time. Lucan had to bite back his reluctance. He wanted to be alone with her, not charming her maids and making stilted conversation over a cold room under Anne's eagle eye.

‘I know this is hard but it is more than worth it, you hear me Lucan?’

He sighed and nodded regretfully. She smiled gently, her face lightening before she craned her long neck and pressed a light kiss briefly to his weary forehead. Lucan shut his eyes for a moment, commiting the soft pressure of her lips to memory before she floated back. Her words echoed strangely in the space between them.

‘It will be worth it, I know it’s going to be worth it to see your beautiful face everyday whenever we want. If you think it is worth it, and only if you think it and me worth it to risk my ladies wrath.’ Her contented smile grew, and for a split second Lucan allowed himself to think of what might be if they were allowed more than a few brief hours alone. A slow smile cracked his features, a faint echo of the one Clare held.

"I already told you," he finally smiled. His fair head ducked to hers, escaping the cool touch of her fingers and leaning in, his cheek not quite touching her own as he breathed into her ear. "For you, I'd risk everything." His breath lifted her hair and grazed her cheek, which was stubbornly remaining a gentle pink from the spot by the fire. He pulled back, flashing her a subtle smile that unfolded wonkily over his face. "Besides, I've stood in front of Taran when he was holding a bow. After that, facing Anne should be no problem."

He reached back, threading a hand through his dishevelled hair absently so it stood up at the back, his other still lightly embracing the dark haired woman before him. His voice was light a playful when he next spoke.

"But I do have one question... Who in Gods name is Jane? Is she pretty?" He treated Clare a childish and teasing grin, the age of his face dropping several years in the process.

"I already told you, For you, I'd risk everything." Clare smiled bashfully, a cold shiver running thick through her blood as his lips lightly grazed her ear. How she had become quite so infected by the mans infectious smile and longing touch, she would never know. Her face felt the absence of his own as he pulled away, the lopsided grin spread pleasantly on his face.

His smile really was the cutest thing as his words rang out, humoured and mocking."Besides, I've stood in front of Taran when he was holding a bow. After that, facing Anne should be no problem." She laughed, knowing full well that Anne’s wrath wouldn’t be matched by Taran’s incompetence with a bow, no matter how great. She narrowed her eyes mockingly, a suppressed smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Her mind drifted back to all those weeks ago when Lucan had professed Taran’s ill fortune at firing an arrow at the blonde’s head and she chuckled at the thought.

‘That reminds me Lucan, I have been thinking ever since I saw you training all those weeks ago and at the banquet with Taran. Do you wager that you could beat him? I think I want to see you, of course Taran is still moderately petrified of me so we would need to find away around that but would you agree to it?’ She smiled broadly at her ingenuity, it would prove a worthwhile waste of an afternoon and she would see Taran again. ‘Besides Nan couldn’t rightly refuse if Taran was there.’

"But I do have one question... Who in Gods name is Jane? Is she pretty?" Her jaw tightened a little at the mention of her least favourite lady. She forced a relatively genuine smile on her face that was so effortless and yet the glare was evident in her eyes. She nodded her head, cautiously averting her eyes. ‘Jane is the blonde that can’t keep her ill advised tongue inside her mouth when she knows what’s good for her.’ She spat the words from her mouth and breathed deeply, eyes scanning up to meet Lucan’s clouded orbs.

‘Mistress Potter is beautiful, all lithe curves and pale eyes. She’s younger than me in the least and I believe she’s being courted by some sap back in court. She came into my service a few years ago. She has to be the biggest gossip in the land and I swear I have come close to pushing her out of my windows on several occasions for her impudence. You’ll no doubt be enamoured with her.’ The last words were sneered as she unhooked her arms from Lucan’s shoulders, fumbling with the pale lacing on her long sleeves.

She had never forgiven Jane for the lies that had been spewed from her mouth regarding Mark but decided Lucan probably didn’t need to hear them. Her husband had said that the confession was prompted by unbiased source close to his majesty but Clare had always known it was Jane. She never knew why the girl had been injected into her service, she never fully understood who was behind the employment but from the outset she had taken a dislike. Jane was everything that she was not, beautiful, young and fair with a certain meekness that surrounded her until her tongue slipped. She was a vindictive witch as far as she concerned, too consumed to spread idle gossip about the queen than to savour her self-preservation.

Clare wasn’t so sure why she was so affected by Lucan formally meeting the evil woman, perhaps he would take a like to her and she would inadvertently put everything in perspective. The thought that Lucan could favour the menacing girl, who was considerably more beautiful than Clare herself made her choke a little. Her stomach dropped and she breathed deeply, face paling as vicious images flooded her mind.

‘Are you going to come tomorrow then?’ Her feeble voice was accompanied by a weak smile as she raised her eyes regretfully to his. Her jaw was still unnaturally tense and her pale hands balled unnaturally into tight, unrelenting fists at her sides. Perhaps this was not such a fantastic idea after all.

‘That reminds me Lucan, I have been thinking ever since I saw you training all those weeks ago and at the banquet with Taran. Do you wager that you could beat him? I think I want to see you, of course Taran is still moderately petrified of me so we would need to find away around that but would you agree to it?’

She smiled broadly, obviously pleased with the idea, and Lucan couldn’t help but return the gesture. It was madness, how this one woman could switch from passionate, to adorable, to furious and then back again in the space of a single afternoon. There seemed to be no stability to her, no certainties. It was intriguing, the sudden lack of rules in his structured world. A sudden shifting in his own life, dictated as it was by emotion. Lucan chuckled. "I can beat him with a bow and arrow. In swordsmanship I think we are quite evenly matched… But yes, of course I would agree to it.”

He gave another broad smile, knowing he was partly agreeing in hope that if he fought Taran, and won, it might capture some of the pride he had lost in his earlier breakdown. It was still slightly embarrassing, and perhaps proving his qualities as a soldier would erase it. As well as hopefully increasing Clare’s opinion of him. He was still a young man after all; he could hardly resist the chance to show off.

Clare’s next smile seemed genuine enough, but her eyes darkened to a glare, and the slender arms thrown over his shoulders tightened involuntarily. ‘Jane is the blonde that can’t keep her ill advised tongue inside her mouth when she knows what’s good for her.’

Lucan’s pale eyebrows lifted slightly, caught off guard by the sudden loathing in Clare’s usually soft voice. It sent him spiralling back to last night, her words spat coldly at him over her chambers. He shook back the memory, realising Clare was midway through a rant about the unfortunate girl

‘…She has to be the biggest gossip in the land and I swear I have come close to pushing her out of my windows on several occasions for her impudence. You’ll no doubt be enamoured with her.’ She gave him an irritated look, causing Lucan’s mouth to twitch incredulously. Her long arms slipped from his broad shoulders, and he immediately found himself missing her calming touch, fighting back a shiver as the sensation of cold air tickled the nape of his neck.

“I don’t know, somehow.” He voice falsely thoughtful. “I’ve never really liked blondes. Or girls who chatter behind people’s backs. I’d rather have someone who told me straight out when I was being an idiot. And then threw a pitcher of wine at my head.” He gave a lazy smile, taking a step nearer so they were impossibly close.

‘Are you going to come tomorrow then?’ Clare’s voice was weak, the smile she offered wavering. Lucan cocked an eyebrow, his uneven grin dying into a tender smile that softened his features. Her teeth were clenched, and he noticed the tension in her hands, causing a map of blue veins to stand out under the porcelain skin.

Without replying, Lucan reached out and lifted one of her small, pale hands with both of his. Gently, he teased out her fingers from the fist she had paused, noticing the red crescents her nails had left behind. He wound his fingers around her impossibly smooth palm, marvelling at the ease in which he encased it completely, before lifting her fingertips to his lips. He held them there for a long moment, allowing a graceful smile to blossom against her touch.

“Yes.” He finally replied, dropping her hand from his mouth but still not releasing it. “I’ll come tomorrow. And the day after. And the day after.” He chuckled, glancing down to how their fingers were still intertwined, before looking up at her through fair eyelashes. The glimpse of her dramatic features knocked the breath from his lungs, and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. “By the end of the week I’ll have Anne eating out of my hand.”

“I don’t know, somehow, I never really liked blondes... an idiot. And then threw a pitcher of wine at my head.”.She smiled a little averting her eyes as Lucan sauntered casually toward her. The proximity was intoxicating and forced a smile onto her face, albeit a mournful one. ‘She’ll like you though, they all will.’ She muttered under her breath as he slowly unfurled her balled up hand, raising in calmly to his serene face and slowly gracing it with a kiss.

Her hand lingered by his mouth and she felt the tension ebb from her muscles as she stared into his face. Her other hand slowly unfurled itself and sought out his other hand as one set of long fingers entwined with her own. His voice was chiding and yet filled her with such perfect calm that she smiled. ‘Yes. I’ll come tomorrow. And the day after. And the day after. By the end of the week I’ll have Anne eating out of my hand.’

Clare remembered so vividly, the tears that had streamed down her face as she lay crumpled on the floor, the morning after the banquet. That image was oddly similar to the one last night and she shuddered a little at the thought. She couldn’t be without Lucan, not right now but the pain he evoked even in her faded memories reopened the sharp hole in her chest. She choked a little at the fleeting feelings of weakness that swelled in her chest.

He chuckled and she curved her body so her forehead was resting on the gentle curve of his broad shoulder. The moment was beautiful, so serene that she doubted she could pry herself away from any more than she could stop breathing. She sighed, fingers still wound protectively through his as the gentle breeze from the window caught at her neck. ‘I wouldn’t be so sure you could best her so easily. Nan isn’t one to forget things lightly, specifically regarding my wellbeing.’

Exhaustion tugged pitifully at her eyelids and she attempted to stifle a yawn as her breathing slowed to a melodic pace. She shifted so her chocolate hair tickled his jaw as she settled contently into the crook of his neck. ‘It’s such a long walk back to my apartments, do you think Nan would be totally averse to be staying here tonight, merely as a matter of convenience of course.’ She smiled, chuckling slightly as she levered herself methodically away from the man.

She groaned as the cool chill seeped between their lone bodies and she leant in once more, pressing a light kiss against his temple before pulling back and glancing warily at the door. ‘Do you want to explain this to John or would you like me to fabricate something?’ She smiled lightly and raised the flat of his hand against her lips before lightly pulling away from him, breathing deep as the ominous oak door beckoned her back to the castle and away from Lucan.

((sorry it's a bit short and rubbish!))

Clare gave a low chuckle, a sudden relief to her tension, and slipped her head onto Lucan's shoulder. A low sigh balanced on the tip of her tongue as she visibly relaxed, her cold fingers wound tightly though his own. Lucan's smile grew of its own accord, and he gently inhaled the smell of her hair, already so familiar to him. A chilling breeze filtered through the window.

‘I wouldn’t be so sure you could best her so easily. Nan isn’t one to forget things lightly, specifically regarding my wellbeing.’

"But I am ridiculously charming," he assured her. Clare's shoulders shook as she struggled to contain a yawn, immediately causing Lucan to do the same. He gaped for air as Clare's hair ticked the underside of his jaw, shifting so she fitted perfectly into the space between his colarbone and neck. Lucan pressed his face into the soft cloud, dishevelled from its previous neat binding and now lying haphazardly over her pale forehead. He grinned widely at her next words, the expression hidden by the chocolate locks.

‘It’s such a long walk back to my apartments, do you think Nan would be totally averse to be staying here tonight, merely as a matter of convenience of course.’

She shifted away, and Lucan quirked his eyebrows up reproachfully. "Don't tease me. It's cruel," he told her, a playful note to his voice as he gently nudged her with their clasped hands. Still, the very idea of Clare spending the night in his house made his stomach contract and his heart leap into his throat. God knew what could happen. It was exceedingly hard to control himself when they were simply standing together by the window.

Lucan cleared his throat awkwardly, feeling a blush creep into his pale and drawn cheeks. Clare leaned in, pressing her lips briefly against his temple, where the blood insisted on pounding heavily with the sudden frantic beat of his heart.

‘Do you want to explain this to John or would you like me to fabricate something?’

Lucan followed her reluctant gaze to the heavy oak door that led to the hall. It looked strangely dark and threatening, despite the warm russet tone of the wood. His hands tightened instinctively around her slim fingers, and he had to concentrate hard to loosen the pressure. A weary sigh escaped Lucan's lips, and he ducked his head for a moment, before taking a step and gently tugging her towards the door, stepping backwards over the floor so he continued to face her.

"If you fabricate something, there's a good chance you'll make me sound like an idiot," he told her, with a sly but sad smile. "Tell you what, I'll escort you to the door, and you pretend to be furious with me. That way I can see these superb acting skills first hand." He paused suddenly, causing her to come to a sudden halt inches from his open face, gracing her with a wicked, childish grin.

"But you need to say goodbye nicely first. Or I'm not letting you go."

‘...If you fabricate something, there's a good chance you'll make me sound like an idiot,’ Clare laughed a little as a flicker of sadness graced his lopsided smile. ‘... you pretend to be furious with me. That way I can see these superb acting skills first hand.’ She smiled a little mournfully at his words.

She was exhausted, the lies seemed to mount up farther than she could handle. Her ladies would know a slightly less brazen truth and it would give her a chance to be honest whilst in his company, affording her to see him. If she lied now, how would she ever come back here without John being oddly confused? She could not rightly profess her hate for him now and then come back smiling and joking as old friends. But honestly there was no other choice that would seem plausible.

Her head slowly nodded as she dragged her regretfully to thick oak door and she took a deep breath, her mouth twisting uncomfortably at the thought of leaving. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling as the ominous dark of her empty chamber loomed. ‘John and Nan would get on I think, they both hate their employers company. He’s going to really despise me isn’t he?’

Clare muttered the words coldly under her breath, eyeing the floor as if it were some great work of art. She didn’t like the thought of Lucan’s would be brother disliking her but she supposed he wouldn’t like the way Nan eyed him. The chill from the window was biting and her flushed cheeks as it picked up gradual momentum.

‘But you need to say goodbye nicely first. Or I'm not letting you go.’ She smiled against the cool wall of air filling the void between them. Her eyes gradually raised as her favourite smile flickered across his angelic face. She laughed and quirked her eyebrow sweetly up at him before biting her lip. Her breath lightly grazed his cheek as she leant into is smooth skin, lips cautiously brushing against his ear.

‘Well then, perhaps I shouldn’t be nice then I wouldn’t have to leave.’ Her lips lightly kissed his temple before a sad smile spread on her face as she brought her eyes round to meet his. The warm firelight danced precariously over his fair features as she squinted in an effort to define each faction of his skin in the dim light. If this would be their last night together, no matter how unlikely that seemed, she would not leave without knowing everything about the glorious Knight.

His hair fell into a light curve over clouded and yet perfectly exquisite grey eyes, the likes of which sent a shiver of pleasure through her blood. Her eyes languidly over his broad shoulders and she blushed lightly before returning her gaze to his pale face. His lip curved into an utterly genuine smile and she let out a small choke before raising her hands fervently to his face and crushing pale lips to his.

The kiss was passionate and longing and yet held none of the animalistic lust that had fogged her mind on the floor. As their lips met over the closing darkness she felt the remaining worry and tension ebb freely from her aching mind. It was a welcoming change to the unattainably cruel emotions that usually flooded her body in his presence. Smiling against his lips she pulled his forehead down gently to meet her lips and she chuckled, releasing him.

‘How dare you say that Lucan, I hope you never cross me again or so help me your head will be on a pike quicker than you can mumble your foolish apology.’ She winced as the words were spat falsely from her mouth, so loudly she feared the ceiling might cave in. She smile feebly up at Lucan muttering ‘Sorry’ under her breath before grumbling and drawing a deep breath. Her foot came down on his own far harder than she expected, not releasing the extent of her power. She felt a sickening crunch as the sharp heel of her court shoe connected with the soft, malleable flesh of his foot. She bit her lip, raising her eyebrows as she muttered a little feebly. ‘Had to make it believable that I hate you right? The pitcher’s too far away.’

‘Well then, perhaps I shouldn’t be nice then I wouldn’t have to leave.’ Lucan smiled softly as Clare's lips grazed his temple for a split second, her breath warm against his fair skin before she pulled away. Their hands were still wrapped tightly around each other, clinging desperately together as Lucan was captured in her intense blue stare.

She had a way of looking at him that dragged the air from his lungs, leaving him gaping for oxygen as he drowned in the pools of sapphire blue. Her lips, slightly parted, were a perfect pink bow, her skin soft and flawless. Clare gave an odd, choking noise, then her long fingers were curved around his jaw, pulling him roughly towards her until their lips met.

It was yet another kind of kiss than the ones they had previously shared. It wasn't fleeting, or angry, or lustful. It was something else entirely, sending Lucan's heart straight into the young Queens grip, where it settled and was hers completely. When they eventually broke apart, Clare's hands grasping his face and lips skimming over the Knights suddenly creased forehead, she took it with her.

‘How dare you say that Lucan, I hope you never cross me again or so help me your head will be on a pike quicker than you can mumble your foolish apology.’

Lucan blinked, eyebrows furrowing as the cruel words rang loudly around the room. They bounced off the high ceiling and stone walls, rebounding in and out of his head like the tolling of a bell. He shut his eyes for a moment, opening them in time to see Clare's whispered apology across the room. She sent him a small smile, which Lucan returned reassuringly.

Before the expression had faded from his lips, there was a sudden movement. If Lucan's brain hadn't been so fogged by a longing kiss, or so comfortable in Clare's company, he would have been able to dodge it. He was a Knight, after all, his reactions were fast. But in this instance they failed him, and Clare's heel landed squarely on his leather boot, powering through to his already sore feet. Lucan heard himself give a strangely high-pitched squeak.

‘Had to make it believable that I hate you right? The pitcher’s too far away.’

Lucan looked at her through eyes wide with shock, clamping his mouth shut against a shout of pain as his foot throbbed angrily. It was more surprise than anything - it was hardly the worst injury he had ever recieved. As a reminder, his wrist gave a sting of pain. Still, he could not hold back a hissed swear as he took a stumbled step backwards. "I think you broke my foot!" he whispered at her, giving her an incredulous, but slightly admiring, look. "How are you strong enough to do that?"

There was an angry bark, and suddenly a bundle of honey coloured fur pounced between the pair. The dog's shackles were raised, its teeth bared threateningly as it growled at the dark haired woman, firelight dancing off its dark eyes and shining fangs. Lucan darted forward, roughly seizing the animal around the scruff of the neck and holding on tightly until the fur on the back of the dogs neck flattened. He glanced apologetically up at Clare, and at that moment John barged through the side door.

The older man looked completely thrown at the situation, his eyes darting to his Master clutching tightly at the household pet, to the Queen standing a few feet across from them. Lucan prayed he wouldn't notice the dust that decorated her pale skirts, a souvenir to the time spent before the fire. He glanced nervously back to Lucan, concern evident in his lined face.

"Sire, is everything alright?"

Lucan turned his face to his, feeling a shiver of guilt at lying to his faithful friend this way. But even if he was having to get in the Queen's ladies good books, she had no need to do so for John. After all, the only person the Manservant was forced to report to was Lucan himself. He felt a light quiver of jealousy as he pictured the King of Irick sitting back in his chair, awaiting news.

"Yes John," he told the man, his voice only made colder by his own thoughts. He turned to Clare, his face a careflu mask of haunty coldness, which slipped for a moment to reveal a glimmer of tenderness in his eyes. But then it was back, and his voice was as harsh as a whip as it echoed through the space between them. "Her Highness was just leaving."

‘I think you broke my foot! How are you strong enough to do that?’ She bit her lips silently, trying to stifle a small laugh at his incredulity. ‘Would you believe me if I said that wasn’t the first time I had to kick a Knight? So you’ll come then, tomorrow in the morning I might suggest, Nan gets grouchier as the day progresses, believe me.’ Her smile broadened and her eyes warmed, languidly searching Lucan’s face as she heard his manservant’s hesitant presence from behind the thick door. She smiled absently as she thought of Nan’s less than civil greeting at Lucan, it would no doubt be highly entertaining. She only hoped that there weren’t any particularly sharp implements nearby.

Clare only managed to see a fleeting flash of pure gold as the calmed dog frantically leapt to his feet, teeth barred in a maddening fury. She choked a little, her un-rational mind willing her to pace back through the door. The dog released a feral growl and Clare’s hand subconsciously brushed the all but faded scar on her cream arm. The image of darkened blood, her blood, seeping menacingly from her arm the last time she was in such a position sent a light tremor up her spine, fingers shaking slightly.

She still smelt the nauseating mix of rust and salt as her arm was tore open in the mongrel’s savage teeth. She was only a child, an infant if one could be called such and yet the image was as clear as day. Her breathing became increasingly erratic and she choked a little, her mind numbing as Lucan grabbed the animals scruff. His eyes glance apologetically up at hers as her pale eyes were transfixed on the animal’s razor teeth.

Her mind absently heard as John barged into the room unannounced, she faintly registered his voice in the back of her clouded head as Lucan’s cool words rang around them in response. She knew it was all a clever facade and yet she couldn’t bring herself to blot out the tightness his words held. ‘Yes John, her Highness was just leaving.’ She warily raised her eyes away from the dog and met his pale face as the mask of disinterest wavered for all but a fleeting second.

She nodded; focus starkly returning to her vision and mind as the dog drifted into insignificance in their predicament. She sneered at him, as if it was second nature to her pale face. The cool mask of indifference fell so effortlessly onto her pale lips that it seemed so natural. ‘Wouldn’t wont to disturb Lucan and his mongrel any more would I? I must say I am impressed Sir Lucan could hold an intellectual conversation for quite as long as he did. Here I lived under the presumption that he was a gaping idiot, how wrong I was.’

She spat the words with all the callousness as she had last night, only this time she felt the overwhelming feeling of remorse. She glared silently at Lucan, eyes boring into his, face etched with hope for understanding. Her eyes narrowed as her head snapped up to his manservant, fingers flexing into clenching little balls. His manservant held a protective stance and Clare fleetingly wondered just how far he would go for his master.

‘I don’t know how you can stand such a petulant and rude master, I hope you see the error of your employment soon enough.’ The words were sneered, coating in a pretence of disgust as she felt her fingers tremble slightly. The stress of lying so venomously made her shake a little. The callous words shot from her mouth with as much conviction as she could muster, only made her feel even worse. She only hoped Lucan would eventually forgive her and her words.

Her fingers flexed and recoiled by her side as the tremors increased rhythmically. Stomping her foot impatiently she shot daggers at the manservant before, nodding curtly at Lucan and pushing her way past the man, skirts trailing in a flurry of fabric. The shady door loomed in the dimmed light and she found herself stilled my the thick wood. She needed to but she just couldn’t bring herself to pull it open without feeling utterly awful.

Stop playing the fool Clare, get out. She smiled as the grating voice chirped coldly in her ear. It seemed to only offer the most obvious advice and with a slight glance in Johns direction and poignantly ignoring both Lucan and the large portrait of him, Clare straightened up. Her shoulders flew back regally and she smirked, unlatching the door and choking slightly in the freezing chill. She breathed deep, letting her head fall back on her shoulders before gently trotting out into the breeze, letting the door slam shut on its hinges behind her.

Clare nodded, a perfect mask of dislike falling across her perfect features, lips quirking into a cruel smirk.

‘Wouldn’t wont to disturb Lucan and his mongrel any more would I? I must say I am impressed Sir Lucan could hold an intellectual conversation for quite as long as he did. Here I lived under the presumption that he was a gaping idiot, how wrong I was.’

Lucan’s grip tightened subconsciously on the scruff of the dog’s neck, making it yelp with displeasure. Still, even as he forced himself to loosen his hold on the animal, Clare's cold tone echoed painfully through his head. He found himself instantly thrown back to the previous night – her voice was almost an exact echo of the sound that had rung around her chambers, breaking his heart in a matter of moments. But her eyes were wide, searching out his frantically, and with his back to John he sent her a fleeting and reassuring smile.

‘I don’t know how you can stand such a petulant and rude master, I hope you see the error of your employment soon enough.’

Lucan glanced over his shoulder at John, which was preferable to seeing the anger etched into Clare’s otherwise perfect features. He knew she was pretending, but the words were real enough, and shot a shiver of pain straight through him. John was staring at the young Queen, his face contorted in a strange mix of annoyance and unease, though he tried to cover it, and Lucan shot him a look that said, quite clearly, that he shouldn’t get involved.

But then Clare pushed angrily past him. Her slender arm brushing against him, still warm from their embrace, was like fire lapping against his skin.

Lucan watched as she paused for a split second at the door, before reaching for the handle. He heard the door slam loudly on its hinges, a ringing crash that echoed through the suddenly empty house. John glanced nervously at his master before disappearing after her, the sound of the bolt being dragged across quickly sounding from the hallway.

Suddenly alone, Lucan’s grip uncurled from the honey fur of his dog, his fingers surprisingly stiff and sore from the pressure he had been applying. With a gentle shudder, his hand raised to rub angrily over his stormy eyes, pushing back the sudden wave of exhaustion. It travelled down to rub anxiously at his jaw, feeling the light prickle of stubble beneath his touch, trying to recreate the feeling of Clare’s cool hands cradling his face.

He strode quickly to the window, straining his eyes into the darkness pressing on the courtyard, eventually catching sight of the trail of pale skirts whipping round the corner into the streets. A low sigh escaped him, creating a fog on the cold glass as he let his forehead drop so it rested on the windowpane, the chill doing little to relieve the sudden ache in his head. The dog’s claws clicked on the wooden floor as it came to push its nose into his Master’s palm, and Lucan glanced down at the golden animal with a low smile, before squatting down before it to rub a rough hand over its head.

“You scared her,” he told his pet sternly, then fought back a wide yawn. When he glanced up, John was standing in the doorway, watching as the blonde man rose slowly to his full height.

“What happened?” asked the Manservant. Lucan gave a tight smile.

”Nothing,” he replied. John scoffed, and Lucan pulled a face over the warm room at him. “Shut up. Listen, could you run me a bath?”

He sent John a meaningful look, and thankfully the man took the hint, bowing his head gently before backing out of the doorway. He shot the young Knight a meaningful look as the heavy oak swung shut behind him, and Lucan knew he’d have another barrage of questions tonight. But at the moment he was feeling strangely empty, standing alone in his sitting room, the new moon sending a thin veil of light over his pale skin.

There was a scurry of activity, and the hound ran from the room, leaving Lucan with nothing his own memories. That and a lonely chill that had somehow managed to seep into his very bones.