A DUKE'S CRIMSON SCANDAL

The door to his study quietly opened and he didn’t bother lifting his head.

He gently pressed his seal onto the folded letter.

"You asked for me," Rowan asked, walking toward the chair in front of Lucien’s desk.

"I need this letter delivered to the palace... directly to the king," he said, pushing the letter toward Rowan.

Rowan furrowed his brows, staring at the letter. "Have you finally decided to come to your senses and call off the facade with her?"

Lucien gently pulled his drawer out and picked a copy of the letter and handed it to Rowan. "Read," he instructed.

Rowan picked up the letter and unfolded it.

Lucien watched the disbelief slowly creep onto Rowan’s face, and by the time Rowan was done with the letter, a huge frown had settled on his face.

Gently, Rowan placed the letter back on the table, locking his disapproving look on Lucien’s face.

"What do you think you’re doing?" he asked quietly.

"I told you I’d get him back... by any means necessary." Lucien smirked, relaxing onto his chair.

Rowan chuckled dryly. "So... Cassian, the royal guard, has allegedly kidnapped your subject, and if he refuses to release him back to you... he would be killed on sight?" He narrowed his eyes.

"Correct," Lucien replied calmly.

Rowan scoffed in disbelief. "Tell me you are jesting, cousin."

Lucien shook his head. "You already know I don’t jest with Elian," he said.

Rowan shook his head in disapproval.

"You can’t –"

"I already did. The king is already aware of my intentions. Once he receives this letter, he will command men to search the whole kingdom... Elian will be back home, right where he belongs–"

"Elian is better off without you, Lucien!" Rowan slammed his hand down on the table, breathing angrily.

He was done being subtle about it. Someone needed to force Lucien to give up on that poor man; nothing was ever going to be the same anymore.

Very slowly, Lucien stood and walked around his desk. He paused beside Rowan and slowly leaned down, pressing his hand on the desk.

"You will never raise your voice at your duke. Are we clear, Rowan?" he asked in a lethal tone.

Rowan gritted his teeth, refusing to respond.

"You will respond to me when I speak to you. Being my cousin is not a leverage," Lucien seethed.

Rowan chuckled and stood up, facing Lucien squarely. "Being a duke does not mean being stupid, cousin. Continue with this and you will be left with nothing in the end."

He turned and walked toward the door, pausing right in front of it. "I will not deliver your letter. Find someone else who is without conscience like you to do it. Or, you can just do it yourself."

With that, he pulled open the door and left.

Lucien stared at the door and clenched his jaw.

Rowan was right, but he was past reasoning. Maybe he could start reasoning again when he had Elian right under his roof.

He grabbed the letter and stepped out of his study.

"Come here," he said to Finn.

"Your Grace?" Finn bowed.

"Ask Edgar to deliver this to the palace before dawn," he handed Finn the letter.

Finn hesitated, but he eventually took the letter.

"Wait," Lucien stopped him in his tracks.

Finn paused, gaze fixed ahead. "Yes, Your Grace?" he answered quietly.

"What do you sense? Do you think I can get myself out of this mess?" he questioned calmly.

Finn sighed. "I don’t know. All I sense is fear, Your Grace. I am no mind reader or truth seeker. I can only sense your emotions... you’re scared," he answered.

"Go," Lucien ordered.

With a final bow, Finn left.

Lucien stood there for a few seconds, wondering if they were all right. Should he just let Elian go? Was this going to end worse than it did the first time?

Yes, he thought of all those things and it scared him, but something else scared him more... not being able to hold Elian when he wanted scared him more than anything.

---

Cassian was throwing firewood into his fireplace when Elian walked over to him in the parlour.

"Cassian..." Elian called, sounding scared.

Cassian immediately turned and faced him. "Elian, what happened? Why do you look so pale?" he asked, wrapping his arms around Elian immediately.

"Soldiers... outside... to take us back," he murmured.

Cassian froze. "What?" He frowned.

"How did they... Lucien," he gritted his teeth.

"He’s not letting me go, Cass, he’s not letting me go–"

"Hey, hey, it’s alright," Cassian cupped Elian’s cheeks. "It’s okay, you’ll be alright, I promise."

"No, I won’t. He’s asking for my return, he’s going to break me again." Elian shook his head.

"Then don’t let him... remember, you’re not the Elian he knew, that one’s long dead. Understand?" Cassian asked firmly.

Elian bit his lip and slowly nodded. "Okay..."

"Also... remember... I love you. Perhaps if that keeps ringing in your mind, you won’t give in to him," he whispered.

Elian chuckled, hugging Cassian tightly.

"I mean it, Elian. I love you." Cassian murmured into Elian’s hair, saddened by the fact that Elian would never love him at least, not in the way he wanted.

"Will I see you again?" Elian asked softly.

Cassian nodded. "You don’t think I’ll stay away when he has you. He’ll see me so much he might ask for me to be detained." He chuckled.

"Thank you," Elian said, inhaling deeply.

"Come now, let’s get dressed." Cassian led Elian into the room.

By the time they finished dressing, the soldiers had already surrounded the small house. Heavy boots echoed on the wooden porch. A sharp knock came at the door.

Cassian opened it himself, face carefully blank. Behind him, Elian stood quietly, long brown curls tied loosely back, expression calm but pale.

The leader of the royal guard stepped forward and bowed stiffly. "Captain Cassian. By order of His Grace, Duke Lucien of Valemont, and with the King’s seal, you are to release Subject Elian Morel into our custody. You are to report to the palace immediately for questioning regarding the unlawful concealment of a ducal subject."

Cassian’s jaw tightened, but he only nodded once. "Understood."

He turned to Elian and gave him a small, reassuring smile that did not reach his eyes. "Remember what we talked about."

Elian nodded faintly.

Outside, two separate carriages waited under the grey morning sky. One was marked with the royal crest. The other was plain, black, and heavily guarded.

Cassian was guided toward the royal carriage. Two guards climbed in after him. As the door closed, he caught one last glimpse of Elian being led in the opposite direction.

Elian was taken to the second carriage. Four guards surrounded him — polite but firm. One held the door open. Another offered a steadying hand but he ignored it and climbed inside. The moment he was seated, the door shut with a solid click. Bars of iron reinforced the windows from the outside.

The two carriages rolled out in opposite directions.

Cassian’s vehicle turned toward the capital and the palace.

Elian’s turned toward Valemont Manor.

He sat in silence, hands folded in his lap, long curls falling over one shoulder. The guards across from him watched carefully but said nothing. Through the narrow window he watched the trees pass, the same roads he had once travelled under very different circumstances.

His heart beat steadily, but a cold weight settled in his chest. The closer they drew to the manor, the heavier that weight became.

By the time the carriage passed through the familiar gates of Valemont, the afternoon sun was beginning to lower. Servants stopped and stared as the black carriage came to a halt in the main courtyard.

The door opened.

Elian stepped down carefully, the long length of his hair catching the light. Finn stood at the entrance of the manor, expression unreadable. Behind him, the heavy doors of the grand hall stood open.

"This way," Finn said quietly.

Elian followed without resistance. Every step felt both familiar and foreign. The scent of the manor, the polished floors, the distant sound of servants moving — all of it pressed against the careful walls he had built around himself these past months.

They stopped outside the Duke’s study.

Finn knocked once.

"Enter."

The door opened.

Lucien stood behind his desk, fully dressed in formal black. The moment the door swung open, every carefully constructed wall he had built over the past months threatened to crack. His green eyes locked onto the figure in the doorway and stayed there, unblinking.

Elian stepped inside.

The air in the room seemed to thicken instantly. Lucien’s gaze moved over him with a hunger he no longer bothered to hide — the long, waist-length brown curls that now framed his face, the healthy glow of his skin, the calm set of his shoulders. He looked... whole. Better than Lucien had ever seen him. And somehow that only made the ache in Lucien’s chest sharper.

Finn quietly closed the door behind Elian and left them alone.

For several long seconds, neither man spoke. Lucien’s hands rested on the edge of the desk, fingers pressing so hard into the wood that his knuckles turned white. He had imagined this moment a hundred different ways — Elian angry, Elian broken, Elian throwing accusations. He had not prepared for this quiet, polite stranger standing in front of him with no recognition in those familiar blue eyes.

Elian’s expression remained carefully neutral. He did not bow. He simply stood there, waiting, as if this were any other room and Lucien were any other man.

Lucien’s throat worked. When he finally spoke, his voice came out lower and rougher than he intended.

"...Elian."

The name left his lips like something fragile.

Elian tilted his head slightly, the long curls shifting over one shoulder. "Yes, Your Grace?"

The formal address hit Lucien harder than any slap could have. His jaw tightened. He stepped out from behind the desk and moved closer, stopping only a few paces away. Up close, the changes were even more pronounced. Elian smelled clean, of simple soap and open air rather than the heavy scents of the manor. He looked rested. Untouched by the chaos Lucien had left him in.

Lucien’s hand lifted halfway toward him before he forced it back down.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked, the question quieter than he meant it to be.

Elian’s blue eyes met his without flinching. "You are the Duke of Valemont," he answered evenly. "The man who ordered me brought here."

Something raw and dangerous flickered across Lucien’s face. He took another step closer, close enough that Elian would have to tilt his head slightly to hold his gaze.

"Look at me properly," Lucien said, voice low. "Not as a duke. Look at me and tell me you feel nothing."

Elian did not step back. He simply studied Lucien’s face with quiet curiosity, as if searching for something he could not quite name. For a brief moment, something almost like recognition — or pain — passed through his eyes. Then it was gone, replaced once more by calm politeness.

"I feel... that you are unwell, Your Grace," Elian said softly. "You look exhausted."

Lucien let out a short, humourless breath that was almost a laugh. He turned his face away for a second, jaw clenched so tightly it ached. When he looked back, the carefully controlled mask of the Duke was cracking at the edges.

"Welcome home, Elian," he said, the words heavy with everything he refused to say aloud.

The silence that followed was thick enough to cut.

Outside the study, Finn remained at his post, expression carefully blank, while inside the room the game of memory, possession, and survival had officially begun again — this time under Lucien’s roof, and far more dangerous than before.