Lucian descended the stone steps to the dungeon, his heart racing as he rushed through the dimly lit corridors of the mansion. The echo of his boots bouncing off the cold walls. His teeth clenched as the weight of guilt pressed heavily on his chest.
Why had he kept her locked away so long?
No matter how hard he tried to brush the thought aside, with the excuse that she was defiant, reckless and needed to learn, there was still that tiny voice at the back of his head that pricked him so hard. And I guess that's what these humans call conscience, he wondered.
As he neared her cell, something felt off. The usual spark of energy, the defiance that clung to the air around her, was missing. His heart churned in a way that surprised him.
What was this… unease?
So many new emotions that he wasn't aware he was capable of feeling was running through his body at the moment.
She should be in there, pacing like a caged animal, those fiery eyes of hers burning holes into him.
Instead, she was still.
Too still.
Panic, swift and unfamiliar, surged through his mind as he quickened his pace, forcing the cell door open with barely a push. The heavy iron door swung aside, and there, in the dim light, lay her small, motionless body sprawled across the stone floor.
No.
His heart sank…
And without thinking, he rushed to her side, dropping to one knee. Trying to call her by name but realizing he never asked. Unaware of what to say, he lifted her chin gently to inspect her face. Her skin was cold and her lips chapped and dry. A glaring evidence of how malnourished she was. Cradling her face in his hands, he pressed two fingers to her neck, searching desperately for the faintest pulse. His heart, one he often forgot, could feel thundered against his chest.
For a terrifying moment, there was nothing.
Then, a faint thud. Weak, but there.
Relief flooded him and he felt he could finally catch his breath, one he didn't realize he was holding for so long. Just then he heard scuffle of footsteps approaching.
The housekeeper, an elderly woman named Agatha, appeared in the doorway holding a lamp. Her eyes wide with shock at the sight before her.
"My lord! What happened?" She asked with sincere concern for the unconscious girl.
"I_" Lucian's voice seem to fail him. He had no words to explain his negligence.
"Bring some water and a towel to my room. Now!"
Without wasting another breath, he swept her into his arms. The chains around her wrists fell away with a simple flick of his fingers, and with a speed as fast as light, they were out of the dungeon, up the spiraling staircase, and into the main wing of his mansion.
He kicked open the doors to his private quarters, not caring about the splintering wood. The dark, velvet drapes shuddered as he laid her gently on his bed. Her chest rose and fell shallowly, the rhythm uneven. He shouted for the doctor, his voice echoing through the mansion like a command.
Minutes felt like hours as he waited, beside Saraphine, unable to break his gaze from her pale and almost lifeless body.
Finally, Agatha returned with a small bowl of water and a cloth. Lucian took it gratefully, carefully soaking the cloth and dabbing it against her lips.
"You'll be okay,"
he assured her, though he wasn't sure if he believed it himself.
Agatha hurried away, as Lucian continued dabbing the rest of Seraphine's face with the towel. his fingers brushing her hair away from her face.
"I'm so sorry,"
he murmured, feeling helpless. As he tended to her, he felt a surge of protectiveness swell within him. He couldn't let her go like this, not now. He needed to find a way to redeem himself, a chance to prove to her that he was more than just a captor.
Moments later, the old physician arrived, breathless but composed, his wrinkled face bearing nothing but concern. He knelt by the bed, his hands gentle but swift as he examined her. Lucian stood helplessly at the foot of the bed, his eyes locked on Saraphine's face, not wanting to look away for a second.
"What's wrong with her?"
Lucian's voice was sharper than intended.
The doctor pressed a hand to her forehead before glancing up at him.
"She fainted from exhaustion. The dungeon… it's airtight, no proper ventilation. With little food and water, her body simply gave out."
"She'll live?"
The question was barely a whisper, but the weight of it hung in the air.
The doctor stood, picking up his medical kit.
"She's weak, but she'll recover soon enough under proper care. I've done what I can for now. Keep her warm, hydrated and for tonight, monitor her very closely. If she doesn't wake soon, you know how to reach me."
Lucian nodded, and with that the doctor left the room. His gaze never left Saraphine's face, the rise and fall of her chest still uneven. The air between them was thick with something unfamiliar to him something that felt too much like FEAR.
He had never feared losing anyone before.
He had never prayed for anything before, either, but tonight, in the quiet solitude of his chambers, Lucian found himself doing just that. Praying, silently, that she would open her eyes. That her breath would steady. That she would survive.
Lucian leaned forward, his hand hovering above her cool forehead before he finally allowed himself to touch her. Her skin was soft, too soft for someone who had endured so much. Her defiance and stubbornness had drawn him in, but now, all he could think of was the fragile pulse beneath his fingertips, the life that hung by a thread.
And it was his fault.
Lucian stayed by her side long into the night, the guilt and worry eating him up.
"Stay,"
he finally found words to say, but it came out in a whisper. Although the words felt foreign on his tongue. His hand brushed her hair back gently, his touch soft and tender.
"Please Stay with me, don't leave"
If she didn't stay, he wasn't sure how he would live with himself.