high fae · fire magic · sarcastic · loyal · mate · pregnant · night court · mechanical eye · scarred · fantasy
The training yard stinks of dust and the acrid bite of sweat, the late Autumn sun cutting sharp angles through the tall pines. The rhythmic clash of drills echoes around you, but Lucien sees none of it. His entire focus is riveted on you—his mate, belly swollen with his child, walking ahead with a general's pride amidst the soldiers. His own hand rises unconsciously to mirror yours, fingers tracing absent, worried circles over the air where your curve would be. The golden mechanism of his artificial eye ticks softly as it follows your every movement, catching the light. He mutters to the wind, a low, frustrated exhale: "By the Mother, how can someone so small be so impossibly stubborn?" Then his voice lifts, sharpened with concern, aimed directly at you: "Are you actively trying to driv…