Chapter Text
“I meant what I said, Elide.”
“Hmm?” Elide murmured, already half-asleep. The day had worn on her. After all, rebuilding her city—Perranth—wasn’t always such an easy task. While Lorcan took most of the grunt work, along with the occasional help from Rowan and the rest of the Cadre, she was Lady of Perranth, and spent the day in meetings.
Meetings that near-bored her to tears, most days. But since she couldn’t read, couldn’t so much as stare at the letters on the page and discern a single word, she needed to hear all news for herself—in-person. Lorcan offered to help, to read to her so she wouldn’t have to deal with the Lords of other houses, or the demands of some of the peskier landowners, but Elide wanted to meet with them. It was her territory, her people. The least she could do was offer to meet.
Even if it bored her.
Plus, Lorcan needed to lead the citizens willing to help rebuild. She wasn’t about to take him away from that, especially not when the city had been near-ruin when she arrived at her home for the first time. One look had her in tears, Lorcan wrapping his arms around her and promising her that they would fix it—together. Starting with her old home.
So Lorcan got to work, finishing the repairs on her home within the month. After another two weeks, the tower she was forced to live in for ten years was destroyed, toppled to the ground by Lorcan’s magic and his sheer will. When she heard the stones falling to the ground, she went to investigate, worried something had gone wrong—but only saw Lorcan staring at where the tower used to be. Elide simply walked to him, took one look at the rubble, and fell to her knees, weeping and thanking Lorcan, for knowing exactly what she’d wanted. For knowing she’d wanted that thing—that damned prison—destroyed the minute she walked into Perranth, but hadn’t had the nerve to speak it aloud. Not yet.
He dropped to the floor to meet her eyes, taking her head in his hands, and kissed her forehead. “Gods, that thing was ugly,” he’d said, and she’d laughed, leaning into him a little more. “It’s okay that I—”
“Yes,” Elide blurted, wiping her tears away with her sleeve, “yes. Thank you—for doing it.”
“Anything for the Lady of Perranth,” he said, and lifted her up, bringing her back home.
To their home. Together.
Lorcan’s voice grew louder, the memories clearing from her head. “About settling. I meant what I said.”
Elide flipped onto her side to face the warrior, his dark hair falling into his face. “I know you did, Lorcan,” she said, lifting herself up a little to kiss his cheek. “I know.”
Lorcan’s lips upturned, ever so slightly. She grinned right back at him. Smiles from Lorcan were so rare, so precious, and she treasured every single one, knowing he reserved them for her. Only her. Not even the Cadre—his brothers, as Lorcan liked to call them now—had never so much as seen a flash of his teeth, or his dark eyes turn bright.
But for Elide, he would always smile. Again and again, and only for her.
She wondered if he’d smile on their wedding day. Wondered if he’d finally let the world see the parts of him he hides so deeply, the parts that he showed and gave to Elide every day, every night.
Those were thoughts for a different time, Elide supposed, nuzzling herself into Lorcan’s arms for the night.
Yes, thoughts for another day. When the rebuilding was done. When the meetings weren’t as damned long.
And when she and Lorcan had more than these exhausted nights to talk—to plan. They hadn’t talked about the wedding, let alone start to plan. Their only time together lately had been these nights—these tired, exhausted nights, where sleep was more of a priority than talking. Most nights, Elide was fast asleep before she felt the mattress groan and an arm wrapped around her, pulling her close and holding her for the rest of the night.
Elide was so grateful for these nights, and the peace that they brought, but she couldn’t help but be excited for when the rebuilding efforts were complete. Perranth would be whole again, and she’d have more time with Lorcan.
Well, she hoped she would. She wasn’t quite sure what her title brought, and what would ultimately be asked of her. No matter, though, she was ready, willing to accept it. Her title, and her home, with Lorcan by her side as Lord of Perranth.
She chuckled a little bit. Lord Lorcan Lochan. How silly.
But he was prepared to take the title, to honor it for the rest of his life, and she was grateful for it. And despite the name, Elide was fairly certain he liked it—and she did, too. Even she had to admit, there was a bit of a ring to it.
That wouldn’t stop her from teasing him about it, though. Mercilessly.
“Good night, Lord Lorcan Lochan,” she teased, and she could feel him smiling back at her.
“Good night, Lady Elide Lochan.”
So proud—she was so proud to have Lorcan here, in Perranth. So much so, that sometimes it felt like a dream and that she’d wake up alone, in a war tent, without him by her side. Sometimes, she woke up terrified that she didn’t, actually, save Lorcan that day on the battlefield.
One look up at the male holding her and she knew it wasn’t a dream.
How thankful she was that she’d found him near-death in Anielle. That he lived, and lived to see Perranth. His new home.
There might not be gods anymore, but she thanked the stars above anyway, for helping her find her way to him.
To the male who held her heart.
As if hearing her very thoughts, Lorcan gave her a small squeeze. It’s real. I’m here. I love you, he seemed to say.
She closed her eyes, the words on her tongue, but too tired to speak.
I love you too, Lorcan.
***
Lorcan awoke to an empty bed.
He wasn’t surprised. Elide’s meetings went from early morning to night, dragging on until she collapsed into bed as soon as she stepped through the door. He wasn’t even sure she had the time for a lunch break, instead opting to eat during her meetings.
Gods, she needed a break—they needed a break.
The rebuilding efforts, at least on his end, were going well—so well, that Lorcan and his small crew were nearly done. Their home was remodeled and made anew, he was already starting to rebuild the homes of some of the citizens, and the grass was finally starting to grow again, wiping away the reek of the Valg that occupied this territory. Thank the Gods—or whoever he should thank, now—for that.
Lorcan made it his duty to ensure that no trace of the Valg remained—for Elide, and for her people. Perranth was to be made anew, and the Valg were to be no part of it. No, that part was history.
Even if he could still remember the reek and the feel of oily, black blood on his skin. He would never forget them—the battles. Never forget that he had been on the brink of death, one foot in the afterworld, when Elide found him. And willed him to live. It was her love alone that kept him alive that day.
That battle still haunted his nightmares.
But he lived. He survived, and the world was better. Safer, now.
And so for Perranth, for his new home and his new people, he would rebuild. He would erase the horrors that occurred here, and he would keep rebuilding until each and every citizen was happy. Starting with the Lady of the land, Elide.
The look on her face when he destroyed that tower—that prison—oh, he would never forget it. He rallied all of his power for it, dove deep into his well for days, until he knew that with one blow, the tower would come down and be nothing but rubble. And the sobs, the smile, the pure relief he knew Elide felt at the sight of the ruins, he would never forget that, either. He was glad to be the one to rip it down and erase it from existence.
Maybe he would build Elide a garden in its place. If she would want that.
He hoped she would. Maybe he’d ask her about it tonight, if she wasn’t asleep before he came home and crawled into bed.
She deserved a break.
Hell, they hadn’t even had time to talk about a wedding—if she even wanted one. But the planning involved…he couldn’t bring it up. Not yet. Not until things settled down, if they ever did.
But he couldn’t imagine a world in which they weren’t married, in which he didn’t live out the rest of his life with the love of his life. In which they lived out their days together, until death claimed them both.
Lorcan was fully prepared to embrace mortality for her. Had been, for a while now. Before Elide…there was never an incentive, never a female he loved enough to consider giving up a life of immortality and power. But Elide…for the woman who saved his life, his soul, it was never a second thought.
And for Elide to love him…he was still in awe that every day he went to sleep, Elide was right by his side. That he loved her, and she wasn’t going to leave.
He wasn’t sure who, or what, to thank for that, but nevertheless, he sent a prayer up every night, thankful to have earned Elide’s love. To have that woman by his side for the rest of his days.
Lorcan sat up, stretching before heading into the bathroom. One look in the mirror told him all he needed to know. The purple bruises under his eyes, his sagging posture…Gods, he was tired. So, so tired. He needed a break as much as Elide.
He made quick work of bathing, finishing up and slinging a towel around his waist. He stepped back into the bedroom, wandering over to his closet to pick the day’s outfit—with little variation. Everything was either black or a muted shade of grey. But it wasn’t the clothes he stared at when he walked into the bedroom—no, it was the small figure, fast asleep in bed.
Elide. When had she gotten back? And so early, too…
Neglecting his clothes completely, he padded over to the bed, the mattress groaning under his weight. Elide mumbled something incoherent, and turned her head to look at him, her eyes lidded.
“Are you alright, Elide?”
“Cancelled…meetings…so…tired,” she tried to say, and snuggled closer to Lorcan. He laid down and pulled her close. Rebuilding could wait.
“Sleep, Elide,” he said, his eyes starting to close, too.
Yes, she needed a break. They both did.
So Lorcan began planning, writing letters until sleep finally claimed him.