three
"beg for your life one more time"

The winter air is thick in her throat as she runs. Like her lungs fill with blood every time she takes a breath in. The metallic taste coating her tongue, her stomach churning at the flavour. A flavour all too familiar these days to be savoured.

With every step, leaves crush beneath her bare feet and the branches seem to reach out to her, trying to grab her back and hold her hostage for payment from the wolves. Blood and gold, their favourite colours to weave their gowns. Stitched from guts and gore, they dance and drink in glee and in pride of the glory of the hunt. A crown of bones fit for their queen. The false queen who bathes in blood, drinking sins like fine wine.

With every glance over her shoulder, he looms closer. Jagged teeth and wild eyes of the solitary wolf tasked with the hunt beneath the full moon. Red, beady eyes burning into her soul. Slicked back black hair; not the curls she'd once known. A ravenous snarl in place of the playful smile she'd loved.

Face soaking in tears of fear, freezing as they fall for the winter winds that buffer her as she runs for her life from one of her own.

She careens down a set of winding stairs, bloody hands smearing on the white walls in prints of despair. Down, down, down into the depths to who-knows-where. Anywhere but there. Anywhere but in his warpath.

Desperately, she searches for a place to hide. The basement was full of furniture and, in her first stroke of good fortune, a wardrobe sufficiently big enough for her to seek refuge. Hearing the claws clattering against the stone stairs above her getting closer, she hauls herself into the wardrobe, trying to slow her breathing and steady her rapid heartbeat.

As she silently begs for her life, she closes her eyes, hearing the slow approach of the attacker coming closer and closer.

This was it. This was the day she died. This was the end of her life and she could do nothing but sit back and let it happen. Let the daggers find their mark. Find their home buried in her heart, six feet under. Let them sink in one side and emerge the other, donning the colour of her blood in slick designs of rose and gold.

The doors fly open and so do her eyes. Giant moons of blue staring at her executioner.

"It's been a while, dear sister," He says, grabbing her by her hair and dragging her from hiding. Thrown on the floor, she groans and rolls onto her back, sobbing with fear and inability to hurt him again.

"Please, brother, please," She cries as he pulls the short sword from his belt, the sound reverberating though her veins. "Please," She breathes again, chest rising and falling heavily as he positions the blade over her front.

"I'm sorry, Lusine, but this is what you deserve," He replies coldly, mouth widening into a sick smile of pointed teeth, dripping with ichor.

Lycus lifts the sword up and brings it back down with swift brutality, cutting through her flesh and ribcage with ease, jolting her body from the stone.

With a gasp, she wakes.

-

-

When she does wake, she sits up, pulls her hair from its bun and drags her hands through it, waiting for her heart rate to return to normal. Pulling the knots free, relaxing her breathing, reminding herself it wasn't real, and yet the scars on her chest ache and throb with every beat of her heart.

As it calms, she realises that she's still at Steve's. The clock reads two o'clock in the morning. Long past when she'd promised Olea she'd be back.

Slipping from the bed, she pulls the blanket off and wraps it around herself, keeping the cold from nipping at her bare legs.

Emerging from the room, she finds the apartment in silence. Total darkness has descended and enveloped the once homely place. But this dark wasn't terrifying. She knows who lies in its depths.

Wrapping the blanket tighter, she crosses the room to where she assumes Steve would be sleeping, ever the gentleman. Of course, he hadn't joined her. He was a good man and just another reason for her to admire him even more than she already did.

Where he sleeps on the couch, Lusine crouches before him and takes a moment to appreciate the serenity upon his face. He worries less when he's sleeping, she thinks, as she reaches her hand out and gently runs her fingers over the hand wedged beneath his chin to wake him.

His eyes quickly open, clearly startled by the sudden contact, but he relaxes when he sees her face awaiting him, illuminated by the moonlight pouring in between gaps in the curtains.

"Hi," He murmurs sleepily, nuzzling his head into the cushion.

"You're not sleeping out here. It's cold and I'm cold so you're coming with me whether you like it or not," She tells him, taking advantage of his dazed state to pull him to his feet, but he dug in his heels before she could drag him around the sofa.

"Lusine, I shouldn't," He says quietly, but the way he looks at her tells his unspoken truths. Eyes don't lie. They shout the words the mouth wouldn't even dream of whispering.

"I won't be able to sleep if I know you're out here," She tells him, taking both of his hands and locking their fingers together. "So, either you join me in here or I join you on the sofa. Your choice, Captain."

"Alright," He says, admitting defeat. "Lead the way."

"Perfect." Lusine picks the fallen blanket up with one hand but remains holding his with the other as they slip through the darkness into the bedroom where she knew she would be unable to sleep in the moments after yet another nightmare.

Still curled in the blanket, Lusine clambers into the bed and watches him through the gloom as he uncertainly climbs in too, shuffling to get comfortable.

Lusine notes his awkwardness and smiles at him through the gloom. "It's okay, Steve, if you really don't want to share, I can sleep on the couch," She says, a soft kindness and understanding lying in between the lines.

"No, it's fine. You can stay. I want you to stay, but it's just new to me to share," his hand clasps around hers, the coldness immediately apparent, "especially with someone like you."

Lusine laughs quietly. "What's that supposed to mean?" She questions, lacing her fingers through his and revelling in the comfort he brought right to her doorstep.

Maybe he was what she'd been waiting for all these years. The right person at the right time for once. But, even with all the stars aligning for them, it didn't mean she wasn't afraid to fall in love again.

"Nothing bad," Steve says, and, just about, she can see him smiling right back at her through the dark, rendering him completely irresistible to her, despite her best efforts to keep to herself.

Her hand slips away from his, which seems to send a frown flickering across his expression like a solo firefly through the night sky. But, when her fingertips begin to trace up his forearm to lay her hand to rest at the back of his neck, his frown is long forgotten as her touch overwhelms him.

Drowsily, she mutters, "You're making things very difficult for me, Steve." Her thumb brushes the skin just below his ear before retreating all together away from him.

"Sorry?" The frown returns, the firefly ebbing.

"I didn't want to feel this way so quickly, but I just can't help myself." She swallows, unable to lie to him anymore. Unable to run her fingers across his skin, and unable to crave his touch, without admitting her fear. She had to be honest to him. She owed him that for all his unrepaid kindness. "And I want you to know, before we go any further, that I'm absolutely terrified to fall in love with you."

A stunned silence overcomes him. He just blinks at her through the dark, unsure as to what to say to the woman he'd grown to care about incredibly in such a short, yet decisive, amount of time.

Lusine's teeth flash a smile in the dark as she pulls her blanket up to her chin. "You don't need to say anything. I just need you to understand that that's how I'm feeling before we get ourselves into a mess neither of us asked for."

"Okay," He replies, reaching across to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "I understand."

"Thank you," She says, taking a hold of his hand once more, "that's all I need from you." Her eyes close. "Thank you," She murmurs as she tries to let herself drift away into sleep once more, relieved to have finally gotten her fear off her chest and out in the open where both of them could see it, clutched between their interwoven hands.

-

The next morning, Steve walks Lusine to the door. She'd swapped out the first shirt she'd stolen from him for another, tucked it into her trousers half-heartedly and had been easily satisfied by her appearance in the mirror. Between tangled curls, sickly pale skin and hollow eyes, the shirt brought some life to her.

"When can I see you again?" She asks, a little more eagerly than she would've liked to have come across, but it was too late now, and she found that she didn't care all too much.

"I'm busy for the next week with training in the daytime," He tells her, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his brown leather jacket.

"Oh," She says, "well, I guess I could visit in the evening, but I've been more of a morning person lately." Lusine leans back against the wall, hands folded behind her back. "Or maybe I could come down to training one day. I'm sure it would be good for me to get out and do something, right?"

"Of course, yeah," He replies, leaning against the opposite wall, "That would be great." His smile widens at the prospect.

"Well," Lusine says, taking a short step towards him in the small space of his hall, "I should get going. Olea will be worried about me."

"Who?" He asks, wondering if he'd just forgotten or had never been told.

"My cousin," She explains, going up on her toes just to wrap her arms over his shoulders for a quick hug. "I'll see you tomorrow evening, okay? Goodbye." She pulls the door open behind her, flashes him a smile as he bids her farewell and a little wave before she exits, closing the door firmly, barring against any temptations to run back in.

-

1813 words
10.9.18

so, now you know