Lucas and The Devil

The first thing Lucas heard when he came to consciousness was the sound of someone in the bathroom vomiting with the ferocity of an exorcism. The rites of rejection echoed around his sparsely decorated bedroom and though the rebuking of the demons were silent he could vaguely hear the tone behind them, and apparently the demon refused to be renounced. He winced at the pain of opening his eyes as the light that seeped through the curtains threatened a new day. The faint scent of alcohol still lingered on his breath as he got up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He whispered a quick thanks to his past self for having the wherewithal to have a glass of water and medicine ready on the bedside table. The room temperature water wasn’t very refreshing but it would get the job done well enough. After refilling the glass, he pulled himself out of bed towards the bathroom to wait while the exorcism ran its course.

His head ached as he pulled the walls around his mind back together. The entire estate was humming with the jagged edges of others’ misery and regret scraping along the edges of his mind. The headache itself wasn’t unfamiliar, since most nights begot mornings like these, but it certainly didn’t make suffering through it any easier.

The grating tone on the other side of the bathroom door wobbled erratically as the exorcism concluded, the proximity making it much clearer than the other tones Lucas was working to shut out. This tone still proved tricky despite spending nearly every waking moment together with her the last five weeks or so. After a moment of silence, Lucas knocked on the door, “Elena, brought you some water.”

No answer. “Can you make a noise so I know you didn’t pass out again?”

This earned him a pained moan and a grumbled confirmation the door was unlocked.

The white marble of the bathroom floor was cold on his bare feet as he stepped inside. The diffused mid-morning light through the windows’ frosted glass still reflected a harsh glare onto both the ceiling and his betrothed crumpled against the far wall, wearing nothing but an open robe. Elena made a poor attempt at covering herself up, and for a passing moment Lucas found himself shy at being in just his underwear. It was silly that she still attempted modesty like they hadn’t already been fucking for weeks now. Her tone sounded miserable, and Lucas had to brace himself with a hand on the counter to resist the gravity of the black hole threatening to suck him in.

Even in this state, Elena was infuriatingly beautiful. Her chestnut brown hair was tousled and elegantly messy, some of it still in the braid he accidentally unraveled before they passed out on his bed. Her skin the sun-kissed bronze of the noble girls in the northern reaches of Catalan, light freckles dotting her nose and high cheekbones. Once Lucas had steadied himself he crouched and offered her a glass of water. Against his will, his heart skipped a beat as Elena looked up at him. Even red and puffy from the hangover, Elena’s hazel eyes gleamed beautifully in the light. God, he couldn’t fucking stand her.

Elena snatched the glass and greedily began chugging. She grimaced and stopped mid gulp, glaring at Lucas like he just handed her a glass of poison. He rolled his eyes. “I put medicine in it for the hangover. It’s going to taste weird.”

“Yeah, it tastes like shit,” Elena coughed. “You don’t have any ice?”

“Fresh out. Just finish it.” He stood up and left the bathroom as Elena groaned and got up to shower.

Lucas bristled at being forced to follow through with this. His father wanted their wedding to usher in the beginning of summer in typical, extravagant Cuarón fashion. For whatever reason, the engagement was announced as fall turned to winter for an excruciatingly long engagement. It would be a winter and spring filled with a million public events and holiday celebrations. Whether his father meant it as a punishment for Lucas’ absence from public life or for Marius’ own political machinations, he couldn’t tell. Most likely, and most infuriatingly, it was both. All that Lucas was sure of was Elena came from a respectable and suitably wealthy family, one of the key players along the northern border of Barith that he was sure his father wanted to covertly assert his dominance over and cow into a public display of submission. And what better way to do that than a marital leash tied to his darling baby boy.

Lucas hadn’t realized he was absentmindedly staring a hole into the Cuarón family portrait over the mantle. He was so young in this one, probably no more than 8 years old. His mother sat on an ornate ruby red armchair dressed in orange and gold finery, with Lucas in a red doublet grinning happily beside her with one hand resting on her arm. Wardo stood on the other side of the armchair, his head held high and hands behind his back trying to look as regal and serious as an 11-year-old possibly could. Even in this familial tableau his father’s presence was overpowering in his full royal regalia. He was always stern, but back then his father was kinder, warmer. Marius would ascend to the throne a year or so after this portrait was made, and the man Lucas knew turned cold. This version of him faded away as his father assumed command of the tumultuous situation Lucas' grandfather had left behind. Lucas had kept this portrait because it reminded him of the final years of everyone being happy together.

Elena lumbered out of the bathroom, back in her robe and hair wrapped in a towel. Lucas had barely noticed the water had shut of, much less that Elena was there until she collapsed onto the bed. An uncomfortable silence passed before she rolled onto her stomach and asked, “Anything on the agenda today? Or are we actually free for once?”

“We meet with your mom today to talk wedding decorations, but that’s not until the afternoon.”

Elena dropped her head onto the bed, her response muffled. “God, fuck obligations. I don’t know if I can keep doing this. I can’t fucking wait until summer is over.”

Lucas rolled his eyes. He was used to this kind of life, where nearly every moment was managed and filled mostly with useless obligations that required nothing more than showing your face and being present. “Unfortunately, we'll be stuck doing this song and dance until death do us part, darling.” He put too much venom in that last word, and Elena’s head shot up for a well-earned glare.

“Don’t call me ‘darling’, asshole. You know I hate that.”

“Right.”

Another uncomfortable silence. Lucas still didn’t know how to talk to Elena in these private moments without the conversation turning sour. Faking a meaningful conversation was easy while putting on a show in public or getting blackout drunk where nothing really mattered. The only real thing they had in common was an affinity for a good party, which to some extent satisfied their obligations to be very affectionate in public. But when they were both sober and not fucking, nothing existed between them other than resentment.

Lucas could hear a slight change in Elena’s tone, a subtle upswing in her tone. A twinge of doubt. What made her unsure about something, he couldn’t tell, but Lucas didn’t want to probe her mind and dig any deeper. He'd made that mistake once, and Elena made sure he would earn another slap in the face if he attempted it again.

“You can tell what I’m thinking right?” she asked.

Lucas was used to this question. Anyone with knowledge of his abilities was always on edge around him, even after he reassured them that it was difficult to actually read someone’s mind. Not to mention that it wasn’t something he could do discreetly unless he really focused on it, much to his father’s disappointment. But Elena had only known for almost a week now, so Lucas understood her hesitation.

"Not really. I can guess what you’re feeling,” Lucas answered, “but I don’t know what’s making you feel that way. Like right now I can hear that you’re nervous, but I can’t tell why.”

“Sure…" Another pause before, “I don’t know how else to ask this, but do you like your father?”

"Of course. He's my father,” came the canned line. It would be an odd question, if he wasn’t still facing the family portrait. He noticed Elena was also looking at the portrait, her head propped up by her hands, elbows sinking into the mattress. He noticed a hickey on her neck that they’d have to cover up before they left the room. “But I'm sure you can tell that our relationship is, uh… strained at the moment."

Elena huffed out a laugh. “That feels like an understatement."

"Well, he definitely likes to keep a tight leash, and I tend to do poorly with leashes.”

“Clearly.” Elena sat up, and though she didn’t move closer to Lucas, he could hear her relax slightly. Maybe he was actually getting used to her if he was able to track these shifts in her tone. “I feel the same way. My father can be a little uptight now and then, but he tries to do what’s best.”

Lucas scoffed, “Best for himself, I bet.”

"Of course. He’s not a bad man, he just, um… Can separate the choices he makes from the impact on the people involved.” Elena sighed. “I’m used to it now, but I didn’t think he would pawn me off to the crown for someone that doesn’t even like me.”

Lucas opened his mouth to feign protest, but Elena put a hand out. “Don't try to say otherwise. I can’t read minds, but I’m not stupid. We can’t even have a normal conversation without making each other mad.”

"I think…" Lucas paused. What did he think? And what did it matter? Nothing he felt or said would change their situation in any meaningful way. “I just thought that life would be different. Sure, there are things I’m required to do, but I certainly don’t have the same obligations as my brother. I figured I could be free of it all at some point, do whatever I wanted. But if I abdicate, I lose everything."

"Man, you are fucking insufferable,” Elena huffed as she flopped back down on the bed.

Lucas turned to snap at her, “Why? Because I don’t want to be trapped in my own life?”

“Literally stop and think about anyone other than yourself for a moment!” Elena yelled at him. She took a deep breath, her voice quiet, “You think you're the only one trapped here, Lucas?”

She had a point. Lucas didn’t really consider how much his father’s grip extended outside of his immediate family. Even just in the last few years Marius’ control felt inescapable. He knew why his father wanted her family under his control but he hadn’t thought how that affected them, too. Elena wasn’t here with him by choice, and maybe not even by her father's choice. They were all nothing more than pawns to be traded by his father.

"God, I can almost hear you brooding over there,” Elena said to fill the silence. “We’re both in the same boat, Lucas. It’s as simple as that.”

“If you could leave right now, would you do it?” Lucas asked.

“We both know the answer to that." Elena sat up and moved across the bed to sit in front of Lucas. “But you and I both know that if we walk out on this, we’re not getting a warm reception back to our families.”

Elena tenderly clasped one of Lucas’ hands in hers. It weirdly felt intimate, in a way they hadn’t yet been together. “We don't have to be enemies here,” she said. “We don’t have to love each other, but we can still try to be friends and make the most of this, right? At the very least, we’re both attracted to each other. This doesn't have to be more than that.”

Lucas paused. She was being sincere, but her tone betrayed her. A deep layer of sadness lied dissonant under the surface. “But don’t you want more than this?”

Elena smiled sadly, her eyes drifting to their clasped hands. "Ideally, yes," she said. "But I don’t think we get that choice, darling.”

Lucas cringed at the last word used against him. They were both prisoners here. Maybe it was best to try and make the most of it. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s start with friends.”

“With benefits, of course,” she said with a mischievous smile. “Physically and financially.”

A smile crept up the corner of Lucas’ mouth. It was nice to have this moment of openness. It wasn’t very often he felt relaxed enough to feel like a real person. Maybe if he could be that way around Elena, they could have a chance to live as normal of a life that they could. It couldn’t be that bad. Shit, was he starting to like being around her?

Lucas spotted an open bottle of champagne on the bedside table. He still wasn’t fully relaxed, but he could drink himself to that point. He took a swig. “How do you feel about having an obnoxiously extravagant wedding?"

"Oh my, I couldn’t possibly make such a request, darling,” Elena joked in a sing-song voice, grabbing the bottle and laying back on the bed. “What would the common folk think?”

Lucas kissed up her arm as he climbed on top of her, “Let them talk. Let them celebrate the marriage of their beloved prince to the beautiful Elena of Pola Huerta, soon to be the people’s princess.”

“To us, then," Elena took a long drink and held out the bottle for Lucas. He could feel the gravity of her tone’s sadness.

“To us.”

And he let it consume him.