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Lucas had never written me a love letter. Not a single one.
I knew that. Deep down, I was well aware that despite his astronomical age, he was still an utterly clueless idiot when it came to matters of the heart. I accepted it. I understood it. After all, who else was to blame for falling for him but me? As a modern woman who had received the fine conditioning of a twenty-first-century egalitarian education, I naturally understood that loving someone meant embracing their quirks, accommodating their flaws, and learning to view the world through their eyes. A healthy, enduring relationship was built on mutual respect, co-dependence, and walking hand-in-hand toward the future.
I knew all of this.
Of course I did.
I knew it better than anyone...
But seriously, completely ignoring May 20th and not even bothering to write a single love letter?! Isn’t that just a bit too much?!
You honestly cannot blame me for being furious. Not in the slightest! Anyone in my shoes would be absolutely livid! To think I had secretly pestered Lily to teach me how to bake his absolute favorite dessert, painstakingly selected the most flawless batch from the oven, and specifically sealed it with stasis magic just so it would retain its oven-fresh perfection when I presented it to him today. And what does this man do? He spends the entirety of "520" lounging around like it’s just any ordinary Tuesday!
It wasn’t even about demanding a love letter, or expecting some grand, cinematic date—I was the first to admit there was no need to go to such ridiculous lengths.
But still! Why on earth did he have to look so entirely, blissfully oblivious to the significance of the date?!
It was infuriating! I had half a mind to plant a solid punch right in the middle of that nonchalant, handsome face of his!
“What possesses you today?” The culprit in question asked, heartlessly monopolizing my sofa while stuffing his face with the very pastries I had gifted him. “You seem to be radiating a distinctly foul mood.”
Foul didn't even begin to cover the half of it!
“I am not angry! I am not the least bit angry!” I shot him a biting, venomous glare. “What do I possibly have to be angry about? I have a father who dotes on me, and Lily anticipating my every need. My life is absolute bliss!”
Lucas’s brows knitted together, and he tilted his head in genuine perplexity. “I will never comprehend this. You look violent enough to commit murder, yet you claim you are blissful. Is this a universal trait among girls?”
“Do not generalize an entire demographic!” I countered instinctively, only to find myself utterly tongue-tied the moment the words left my mouth.
“Oh!” A look of sudden enlightenment dawned on Lucas’s face. “So it is a trait exclusive to you?”
“It is not!!” I denied vehemently, my face flushing. “This is entirely your fault!!”
“My fault?” Lucas pointed a bewildered finger at his own chest, blinking innocently. He looked entirely incapable of grasping the source of my wrath, yet he forced himself to adopt a patient tone. “Then would you mind enlightening me? Wherein lies my offense?”
“Figure it out yourself! Since when does the culprit ask the victim for the answers?!”
Lucas blinked again, his long lashes casting a shadow as he lowered his eyes in thought. “Mm... the confections you baked today were delectable, which should have granted you a sense of accomplishment. Claude hasn't restricted your freedom to venture out, and none of those insufferable nobles have plagued you with their pathetic love letters today...”
He lifted his gaze, his crimson eyes locking onto mine. “So the problem lies with me... But I haven’t done anything at all?”
That was the final straw. How could an entity who had walked this earth for centuries be so thoroughly devoid of basic common sense?!
“Today is May 20th!”
“And?” Lucas’s face remained a canvas of pure, unadulterated confusion.
“...”
“Is May 20th some sort of catastrophic memorial day I forgot about?”
“...Just get out. I need to commune with the silence.” I felt the fire of my anger suddenly extinguish, replaced by a strange sense of spiritual transcendence. Why was I even wasting my breath trying to compete with a brick wall?
“Wait—hold on a moment!” Sensing my sudden, soul-crushed resignation, Lucas made a desperate attempt to salvage the situation. “So... you wanted a love letter, is that it?”
“It’s not that I absolutely required one...” I muttered, shaking my head wearily. “Forget it. Even if you pen one now, the meaning is entirely lost.”
“It isn’t lost,” Lucas countered almost instantaneously. “If it is something you desire, I will write it for you. That alone gives it meaning.”
The indignation that had just begun to dissipate flared up anew, twisting into a sharp, painful pang of being profoundly misunderstood. “You don't get it at all! What I wanted was never something I had to explicitly demand before you’d think to do it!”
I watched as Lucas went entirely rigid.
It was an expression that practically never graced his features—a look of stark, sudden realization, as though he had just watched himself drop and shatter something precious he was supposed to have caught with both hands.
I didn't know if my words had cut too deep, but a profound sense of grievance welled within me. I just... I only wanted his affection to be a little more visible. Not in some theatrical, terrifying display like riding a dragon across the capital, but just a small, quiet, intimate corner reserved strictly for the two of us.
Unable to endure the suffocating atmosphere a second longer, I spun on my heel and fled to the sanctuary of my bedroom.
Lucas had never written me a love letter. Not a single one.
The moment I locked myself in, I began aggressively tidying my chambers out of sheer spite. I took every single volume off the shelves, meticulously rearranged them by order, and slotted them back in, repeating the purge in every forgotten nook of the room. Slowly, as the physical clutter was organized, the chaos in my mind began to settle, and my rational faculties returned.
What on earth was I doing? He had no concept of modern calendar puns; it was entirely unfair to penalize him for it. Over all these years, he had been my constant tether—handling the intricacies of magic, protecting Father, resolving the crisis with Jennette... he had granted practically every whim I had ever uttered. It seemed grossly unjust to lay the entirety of this blame at his feet. Besides, it wasn't as though he had never given me a gift before... he did give me... well, a dragon.
Come to think of it, he really was just tragically inept at the art of gift-giving. That dragon from last time had nearly induced a heart attack. I had simply assumed that as the revered Magician of the Black Tower, he would instinctively comprehend the social nuances of presenting a token of affection.
...
A sudden, jarring thought fractured my musings.
My gaze drifted down to the ancient tome regarding the historical Magicians of the Black Tower resting in my hands, a heavy ache blooming within my chest.
Had anyone ever given him a gift? Had anyone in his endless life ever looked at him with anticipation, waiting for a token in return? Had a single soul ever taken the time to gently teach him that when you receive the heart of the person you cherish, you are supposed to offer your own in return?
“Your Imperial Highness,” Lily’s gentle knock broke the silence of my room. “Lord Magician just requested that I deliver this to you.”
Lily extended a parchment envelope toward me.
I froze. He had actually written it.
I accepted the letter, a sudden prickling warmth gathering behind my eyelids. I hurriedly looked up at Lily. “Where—where is he right now?”
“Lord Magician departed immediately after handing over the missive. I am afraid I do not know his whereabouts.”
“Ah... I see.” I lowered my head, my thumb tracing the slightly coarse, heavy grain of the parchment as I pressed my lips together. “Thank you, Lily. I would like to be left alone for a little while.”
Once Lily closed the door, I carefully broke the seal, sliding the unfolded parchment into the light.
Athanasia:
I do not know what a love letter is supposed to entail.
If it requires me to state that I love you, then I love you.
If it requires me to state that I long to see you, then I long to see you. Even though we spend every waking day beside one another, I still find myself wondering when I will next lay eyes upon you.
If it requires me to wish for your happiness, then I have failed you today, for I am the cause of your sorrow. This letter is terribly late. I am sorry.
I am an idiot.
The next time your heart desires something, will you tell me directly?
But it matters not if you choose to keep it to yourself.
I will learn.
—Lucas
My vision blurred, tears spilling over the stark, clumsily earnest words of his letter. Yet, the moment my eyes landed on the word "idiot"—written with an exceptionally crooked, trembling stroke—a laugh escaped my lips despite the tears.
I could see it so vividly in my mind's eye: how much immense, agonizing determination a man as prideful and boastful as Lucas must have summoned just to ink the words "I am an idiot" onto paper.
“This is dreadfully written,” I murmured, dabbing at the moisture at the corners of my eyes. “It doesn't resemble a love letter in the slightest.”
“It doesn't?”
I spun around to find him standing awkwardly on the threshold of my balcony. He was a single step away from entering my room, yet he remained frozen outside, looking uncharacteristically small. “Then next time... I will strive to write a better one.”
“This is perfect just the way it is,” I said, shaking my head as a smile broke through. “It tastes like you. And I love it.”
Lucas stared at me, a long, stretching silence passing between us before he finally let out a low, breathless, “Mm.” He hesitated, his fingers curling slightly.
“May I come inside?”
Staring at the rare, vulnerable timidity written across his face, my smile widened, and I gave him a definitive nod.
Later on, I tucked that beautifully chaotic piece of parchment into the absolute furthest depths of my drawer.
Lucas had never written me a love letter. Not a single one—at least, not until today.