Lucian knew Melina had something to say.
Not the sort of words one should whisper unseen, but ones she wished to voice before him face to face—at the site of grace.
"All right," he answered softly. "The grace before Ranni's tower, then."
"…Mn."
The two spoke no more on the way. Only Torrent's hooves rang bright against the ground, carrying them swiftly through the night.
At the foot of Caria's tower, the entrance was veiled in mist, sealing it from all trespassers. Ranni must have already slipped back into slumber. Seluvis was nowhere to be seen either, perhaps still changing his robes.
Better that way. At least no one would be waiting idly outside.
Lucian entered the embrace of grace. And there, Melina appeared.
She had been silent the entire ride, guarding her words. She could not bring herself to let them drift through the air unseen. No, she wanted him to hear them while looking into her eyes. Anything else felt too hollow, too cowardly.
She stood a pace to his left, just as she had when they first met, with a sliver of distance between them.
"Lucian," she began at last. Her voice wavered. "Must you really pay such a price… for my sake?
"To kill the Two Fingers… to step into the feud of gods themselves. It is too heavy a burden."
Lucian shook his head. "The bargain is struck. You needn't trouble yourself."
Then, with a half-smile, he added. "And besides, for me, what kind of price is that? Just a pair of Fingers. On the road I walk, I may one day face the Greater Will itself."
"I'll count it practice."
It was a joke, meant to ease her worry. The Greater Will, how many masters did it have, anyway?
But when he spoke again, his tone was quiet, earnest. "To gain your place in this world at such a cost… I'd say it's worth it. Almost like a dream."
Melina said nothing. Her gaze lingered on him, heavy with worry.
She was moved, more than she could say—that he would go so far for her. But gratitude weighed less than fear.
For Ranni's road was a dark one. Melina had gleaned as much from their words alone. To slay the Fingers—the Greater Will's apostles, was a crime beyond measure. Not rebellion. Not refusal. But murder.
Who could even name the punishment? No law had ever dared imagine it.
From any other's eyes, Ranni was a witch without redemption. She had stolen the Rune of Death, wove the plot of the Black Knives, slain Prince Godwyn, and shattered the Golden Lineage. Even the Shattering itself traced back to her hand. She admitted as much.
To walk beside her was to tread into shadow. How could Melina not fear for him?
But Lucian broke into her hesitation with a gentle firmness. "Melina. We agreed, didn't we? To walk this journey together."
"If I go on alone while you can only watch from the grace… is that still a journey?
"The chance is before me, so I won't let it pass. I want more than words in the flame. I want to meet you—truly."
Did Melina not long for a body of her own? Of course she did. Yet she could not bear for another to pay such a price. If there was a cost, she wished to carry it herself.
But Lucian had already stepped aboard Ranni's ship. Nothing could turn him back.
Though she worried, she knew he was no fool. He must have weighed his choice carefully, seen something in Ranni that gave him confidence. She could only hope to repay him, someday.
Quietly, she walked to his side. As always, she sank into a kneeling seat, eyes lowered to the flame. Long silence followed.
At last she spoke. "Lucian."
"Mm?"
"…Thank you."
He reached out and ruffled her hair. "There's nothing to thank me for. Don't stand on ceremony with me."
She nodded faintly. Then, after some hesitation, she whispered so softly he nearly missed it, "May I… lean on your shoulder?"
"Of course."
Carefully, Melina shifted closer, folding her legs to the side, letting her weight rest against him.
A warmth she had never known before filled her chest. "…And when I have a body of my own, could I still do this?"
Lucian chuckled. "Why not? Don't you want to?"
Melina lowered her gaze. "Of course I'd wish to stay with you. But if I suddenly appeared at your side… what would your men think? Your subjects? To see a stranger so close to their lord?"
He mussed her hair until it stood in soft disarray. "Let them think what they like. I am their king. Since when do vassals govern their lord's heart?"
"Besides, the road we've walked has already changed everything."
She fell into a daze. It was true. He now had a castle, a realm, an army, loyal knights, and a people who adored him. In months, he had risen to a throne others could not reach in lifetimes.
She remembered their childish promise once, to become the Roundtable's greatest warrior. A promise he had long surpassed. He had felled Godrick and claimed a Great Rune, an act no champion of the Roundtable had ever achieved.
To call him "the strongest" now would almost be an insult.
Her thoughts drifted back to the day she first met him: a ragged wanderer who hardly looked a warrior at all. She had trusted Torrent's choice, and the recognition of the Ancient King, and chosen to walk with him.
Now she trusted him utterly. Wherever he led, the world bent to his will. She needed only to follow, as always.
Yet… was it not too great a burden? Shouldn't he live more for himself?
She glanced up. Her hair, tousled by his hand, brushed against his neck, making him twitch from the tickle. She angled her face so her sealed left eye was hidden, showing only her right.
'From this side… I must look like any other girl' she thought.
Her lips parted. Words swelled in her chest, but died before they left. If she spoke them aloud, what if the bond between them changed forever?
Was this love? She dared not think so. What was there in her to love? She was only a wandering spirit, without name, without past. Could she be so vain as to believe he loved her?
Perhaps it was only her own delusion. Lucian was kind to all, generous to friend and stranger alike. That was why people loved him.
So she swallowed her heart. "…Thank you," she murmured again.
This much was enough. Two sparks resting side by side, if only for a minute, not alone.
But in truth, she knew: she had begun to love him. She could not trace when it started, only that it was born in every step they shared. She had seen, closer than anyone, the light that shone from him.
He was just. He was steadfast. He was willing to bleed for strangers in Morne long before he had power to spare, when death was still certain. He never betrayed his principles. He was everything a hero should be, even crowned king.
And he never wore his crown with pride.
Her heart tightened. Someday, her path would carry her beneath the Erdtree, perhaps even into Leyndell. She could not ask him to follow her there. She could not risk his fall. So she would wait. Until she found her mission, until the moment was right, she would wait.
She told herself her heart was strong enough to hide it. To confess later, when it could be borne.
But Lucian was watching her, struck by a beauty in her he had never noticed so keenly before. His hand, almost without thought, reached across to cover hers where it rested on her knees.
The gesture drew her close—closer than they had ever been.
She trembled faintly. His heart thudded against his ribs. Strange, never had even the deadliest foes made him feel so unsteady. The Black Knights of the night paled to this moment.
He almost feared to ruin it. And yet, when he met her eyes, there was no rejection—only a quiet, fragile hope.
So he bent forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek.
Melina froze, then flushed crimson. She ducked her head, hiding her face from him, but her hand gripped his tightly.
Lucian's thoughts raced. Had he overstepped? Had he mistaken her kindness for something else? One of life's cruelest illusions was believing—she likes me too.
Yet what was done was done. No regrets. If he must, he could always atone at the Church of Vows.
But Melina's mind was a storm of its own. She was flustered, giddy, aflame. His feelings were clear now, she was not just another soul to him. She was special.
So why should she hide?
She drew a deep breath, lifted her head, and returned his kiss, soft and fleeting.
The next instant her form vanished, slipping away from his arms, leaving his hand grasping only air.
Lucian raised a hand to his cheek, to the place she had touched. It felt unreal. Had she truly answered him? Was this… mutual?
Whatever it was, a warmth unlike any he had ever known swelled in his chest.
'So this is love' he thought.
He had never known it, never been chosen, never once felt what it meant to be loved. He had poured all his passion into empty worlds, into souls of fiction, thinking he understood.
But he had understood nothing.
Love was a fire—and Melina's flame had consumed his heart whole.