A DUKE'S CRIMSON SCANDAL

The cabin was quiet, the fire softly crackling in the hearth.

Elian was standing beside a couch, watching Lucien take off his coat.

"Do you want to eat anything? I had my kitchen stocked—"

"I’m not hungry," Elian cut him off, locking his eyes on Lucien. "I need to know why you have brought me here." He chuckled, shaking his head.

"I need to know why you had me brought to you in the first place," he stated.

Lucien stared at Elian for a while, then he walked toward him in slow, deliberate steps.

"You’re not being fair to me, Elian." He whispered, pausing right in front of Elian.

Elian remained expressionless. "Perhaps I might understand you once you stop speaking in parables," he replied.

Lucien glanced over his shoulder to the closed wooden bedroom door.

"Right there..." He pointed to the door, holding Elian’s gaze. "You saw me like no one has ever seen me. You discovered the beast behind the man... you found my soul..." he trailed off as Elian stepped away from his reach, his hand hanging in the air.

He searched Elian’s face, but all he found was blackness.

"You really don’t remember? None of it? None of those precious moments between us?" Lucien’s voice broke as he questioned.

Elian shook his head. "I don’t—"

"Or you have chosen to act like this to hurt me?" Lucien cut him off, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

Elian laughed gently. "Does it matter which it is? Given the history of what you assume you did to me, even if I chose to deliberately forget you, will I be wrong to want to protect myself? My heart?" He asked, locking his brows sternly.

"I do not remember any of what you speak of. And I really wished I did, so I could tell you to your face that I can never love you again—"

"Enough!" Lucien snapped, his eyes hardening, jaws clenching. "Do not say that, please..." he whispered softly.

Elian glared at Lucien and turned away from him, walking over to the shut windows to stand.

"This is not the way love works, your grace. You clearly do not love me. I have heard rumors that you’re to wed the princess by the end of the year. Why then have you brought me back here? Why do you want to revive dead memories—"

"They’re not dead..." Lucien lifted his face, his voice was firm but his eyes were soft and pleading. "They can’t be dead."

"I know you always get what you want, your grace. But you have to learn that it won’t be that way forever. I do not want you." Elian stated.

Lucien didn’t respond; instead, he walked over to Elian.

"Stop, your grace..." Elian warned, leaning away as Lucien lowered his face toward him.

Lucien only stopped when his forehead was an inch from Elian’s, his breath fanning Elian’s blushed cheeks.

"I’m not stopping, Elian. Not when I know I can still get back what we had. Not when you’re standing right here, staring at me like I have hurt you beyond redemption—"

"Have you not?" Elian asked quietly, his pulse jumping in his ears.

Lucien slowly nodded. "I have," he murmured. "And I won’t stop until I get my redemption."

"You won’t," Elian said firmly.

"Do you hate me?" Lucien asked, his hand gently reaching for Elian’s wrist.

His question was left unanswered as Elian looked away from him, frowning.

"You do remember, don’t you? You can’t answer my question." Lucien said, cupping Elian’s jaw. "What will it take to have my Elian back—"

"I don’t fucking remember, and I don’t fucking love you!" Elian snapped, shoving Lucien hard on the chest, heaving angrily.

Lucien staggered backward, his eyes flashing with raw hurt and vulnerability.

"Elian—"

"No! I’ve had enough!" Elian lifted his hand to silence Lucien.

"You brought me to your home, forced me into your bed, and now, what? You’re demanding I love you? A man who clearly left me for dead in the past?" He laughed dryly. "Over my—"

"Elian," Lucien called softly, taking a step forward.

"I’m warning you... don’t come any closer." Elian glanced around the living room, searching for anything to protect himself with.

"I’m sorry, Elian... I’m so sorry..." Lucien whispered shakily, taking slow cautious steps forward.

Elian’s eyes caught a sheathed blade on top of the hearth and quickly ran and grabbed it.

"Don’t come any closer..." He warned, unsheathing it and pointing it to Lucien.

Lucien chuckled, not pausing his steps. "You can’t hurt me, Elian." He murmured.

Elian scoffed. "Get close enough and find out." He threatened.

Lucien smirked, closing the distance between them.

"I wouldn’t mind dying by your blade, Elian... if that would make you forgive me," he said as he took the last step, gently reaching out his hand to take the blade from Elian.

But before Lucien’s hand could reach it, Elian snatched his hand away, holding the blade onto his own neck.

Lucien froze, his smirk wiping off his face in an instant.

"Elian..." He gasped like he’d been punched in the stomach.

"One more step and it’ll be my corpse on the floor." Elian warned darkly.

Lucien gulped, raising his hands beside his head in surrender. "I’ll stop... please, get the blade away from your neck." He begged.

"No." Elian pressed the blade closer to his skin, watching the panic set in Lucien’s eyes.

He almost believed Lucien cared if he had no idea of who the man was. But he knew, and he has seen how ruthless the Duke could get.

"Elian, please... if you hate me so much, kill me instead. I want you to live, I want you to be happy... please, baby." He whispered, feeling trapped as he feared to make the wrong move and watch Elian drop dead in front of him.

"You will go sit on that chair, write a letter to the king and tell him that you hereby release my mother and I. You will let us go, and you will never search for me again. Do you understand!" Elian yelled.

In that moment, as Lucien stared into Elian’s eyes, he realised what he’d been neglecting for a long while... the hurt and pain.

"You do remember," he murmured in shock.

"Fuck you, Lucien," Elian snarled, letting his hatred show through his eyes.

Lucien felt like Elian had already shoved the blade into his heart. The realisation that Elian had recognised him in that garden snapped him so hard.

He was literally dying from Elian’s absence, yet the man chose to pretend like he’d never met him.

"Do you realise what you went through when you left?" Lucien questioned softly.

"Do you realise what I went through staying with you?!" Elian barked, his hands shaking against his neck.

"Keep the fucking blade down and talk to me—"

"I don’t want to talk to you! I want to leave!" Elian countered angrily. "Please, your grace... let me go... or I’ll really kill myself." He said tiredly.

Lucien balled his fists and looked away. "You’d rather die than be with me?" He asked slowly.

Elian shrugged. "Yes, your grace." He answered mockingly.

Lucien nodded, stepping out of his way. "I want you to live more than anything in the world..." he sighed. "Go... use the horse in my stable." He murmured weakly.

Elian almost let the blade fall from shock. He stared at Lucien in disbelief, a part of him breaking by how easily Lucien was willing to let him leave.

Was it so hard for a man to say how he really felt?

In the end, Lucien never loved him, not even for once.

"Fine." He muttered, taking a cautious step forward. "Don’t come any closer or I won’t hesitate to hurt you." He waved his blade around as he headed for the door.

Lucien remained still, watching Elian quietly.

Elian walked past Lucien and clenched his jaw, hating the way his heart skipped.

This was it. He was finally leaving for good.

His fingers had just brushed the cold iron of the door handle when a sudden rush of heat and strength slammed into him from behind.

Lucien’s body pinned him hard against the wood, one arm banded tightly around Elian’s waist, the other reaching desperately for the blade still clenched in Elian’s fist.

"Let go—" Elian snarled, twisting, but Lucien only pressed closer, chest to back, breath hot against the side of his neck.

"Never again," Lucien rasped. "Not like this. Not while I still breathe."

They struggled. The blade flashed between them, silver catching the firelight. Elian shoved backward with all his strength; Lucien refused to yield. For a single, breathless second the steel slipped free of Elian’s control—

and sliced deep across Lucien’s forearm.

A sharp hiss of pain tore from Lucien’s throat. Warm blood bloomed instantly, dark and vivid against pale skin, dripping onto the floorboards.

Elian froze.

The blade slipped from his fingers and clattered loudly to the ground.

He spun around, eyes wide with pure, unfiltered terror, staring at the open wound as if it were his own heart that had been cut open.

"Are you crazy?!" he shouted, voice cracking, hands hovering uselessly in the air. "Lucien—your arm—what the hell is wrong with you?!"

Lucien didn’t even glance at the injury. He only looked at Elian, pupils blown wide, chest heaving, as if the pain in his arm was nothing compared to the fear that had just flooded his entire being.

"I would rather bleed for you every day of my life," he whispered, voice raw and shaking, "than watch you walk out that door with a blade at your own throat again."

He stepped closer, slowly this time, giving Elian every chance to push him away. Blood continued to trickle down his wrist, but he ignored it completely. His free hand rose, trembling, and cupped Elian’s cheek with impossible gentleness.

"You can hate me. You can scream at me. You can even cut me open if it makes the pain less. But you will not leave this world because of me. Do you hear me, Elian?" His thumb brushed the corner of Elian’s mouth, soft as a prayer. "I lost you once. I will not survive losing you twice."

Elian’s breath stuttered. The sharp edge of anger in his eyes flickered, softened by something far more fragile. His gaze dropped to the bleeding arm, then back up to Lucien’s face—open, desperate, completely unguarded.

"You’re an idiot," Elian whispered, the words breaking on a shaky exhale. "A complete, reckless idiot..."

Yet his hands, still trembling, rose of their own accord. One settled carefully over Lucien’s injured forearm, applying gentle pressure as if he could stop the bleeding with touch alone. The other curled into the front of Lucien’s shirt, gripping the fabric like an anchor.

Lucien’s forehead dropped against Elian’s, eyes sliding shut as a soft, broken sound escaped him—half relief, half heartbreak.

"Stay," he breathed against Elian’s lips, so quiet it was almost a confession. "Even if it’s only long enough for me to prove that every rumor, every wedding, every cruel thing I ever did... was never enough to make me stop loving you. Stay, and let me bleed for you properly this time. Let me earn the right to hold you without you wanting to run."

The fire crackled softly behind them. Outside, the night wind whispered against the cabin walls.

"You need to get treated... then we talk..." Elian whispered, heart racing.