Work Text:
Peace was a welcome change. It almost felt indulgent, to not be up at all hours planning to kill gods and wandering the Crossroads. When Guinevere got their first contract after coming back, it felt almost too simple. A wealthy merchant seeking to provide his eldest a quick way out of a poor marriage, done and over in only a few days counting the travel time. Viago almost didn’t give it to her, but Guinevere had insisted on something that wasn’t complicated. Perhaps they should have listened to Viago. Objectively, it was a job beneath them. As the leader of the Veilguard, their prices would be exorbitant; they could get away with one or two jobs a year. Lucanis was perhaps the only one more expensive, though he had the benefit of being the Demon of Vyrantium before killing a god. So, when it came time to kill her target, it felt almost dissatisfying. They had become pickier with their jobs since then.
Guinevere, of course, would never admit this to Viago. Even if he found out, it would be much harder for him to track them down these days. Not only was he often busy either staring longingly into Teia’s eyes or getting into ridiculous arguments with her, but her new residence within the Dellemorte manor provided a bit of a barrier. They were still part of House de Riva, but toed the line between it and House Dellemorte as Lucanis’ fiancée. It put them in a weird space between Houses (and they very much suspected Viago wouldn’t let them out of the house without at least a play acted fuss). The protection from Viago’s “I told you so” was only one benefit of staying in the manor. Despite conflicting feelings for the woman, Guinevere respected Caterina, and they very much suspected she felt similar (even if it was only a scrap of respect). Things with Illario were tense, but he was trying to make amends with Lucanis. Though she was watching him, Guinevere could at least be polite to the man. That wasn’t even touching the large, sprawling estate with a fully stocked library and thousands of nooks, crannies, and secret passages to explore. Though if Guinevere were being honest, her favourite part was the mornings.
When Guinevere drifted into consciousness, she lingered in the hazy in-between of sleep and wakefulness. She felt the slow rise and fall of Lucanis’ chest under her cheek and let herself sit in the soft sound of his breathing. Suppressing a yawn, they opened their eyes and propped themselves up on their elbows so they could look down at him.
It always amazed them how much healthier he looked now and the peacefulness sleep cast over his features. His lips were slightly parted, and Guinevere wanted to trace the shape with her fingers. Holding herself back, she settled for merely admiring him. The way his face had filled out, the lack of shadows under his eyes, how he finally had the chance to tidy his beard (there had been a long debate on shaving it all off and a trim had been the compromise), all of it delighted them like they were seeing him for the first time. His eyelids fluttered as he stirred, and Guinevere leaned down, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Arms tightened around her waist as they leaned back, green eyes meeting brown ones.
“Good morning,” she said, voice soft.
“My sky,” he murmured, voice still thick with sleep, before leaning in to kiss them. His lips met their fingertips instead as Guinevere tried to pull away.
“You, my dear, have morning breath. I won’t kiss you until that’s taken care of.”
“Is that so?” His hold on her tightened, and he rolled them over, pinning Guinevere beneath him. “Miss de Riva, you are cruel to make me wait for your affections.”
Lucanis’ head dipped down, pressing slow kisses to Guinevere’s neck. A thrill ran through them and they laughed, though they suppressed it. She made a weak attempt to push him away. So weak, in fact, it was more of a light tap against his shoulders before their hands moved to his back.
“I assure you, my love, I take no pleasure in being cruel,” she said as her fingers ghosted patterns across his skin. “However, the sooner you get up the sooner I can kiss you.”
Lucanis kissed their cheek before pulling back to look at them with his big, sad, brown eyes. “Not even a peck?”
Guinevere sighed, rolling their eyes, but couldn’t fight their smile. “Oh fine, just one.”
A quick peck to her lips and Lucanis climbed off of her. He tied on his robe — silken, light purple, and black. Guinevere was happy to admire how well the colours suited him from bed as he scooped up theirs. He offered it out to her, the white more golden in the dawn’s light.
“Miss de Riva.”
“Thank you, Mister Dellemorte,” Guinevere said, slipping out from between the sheets. She slid into her robe and turned so Lucanis could tie it for her.
“You know—” she began, pulling her hair out from beneath the collar of her robe “—we can’t do this every morning.”
“But Guinevere, this argument is the second best part of my morning.”