lucien had felt his charisma and spark start to dim. His life had consisted of- waking up. Breakfast. Scope the edge of the wall - occasionally have off days sitting around the court. Dinner. Sleep and repeat. He was getting frustrated. And bored. You were his personal maid at the Manour. You’d walked outside on one of his off days, he was laying down in the meadow under the shade of a tree with his eyes closed and his limps splayed out like a starfish. You walked up to him and tilted your head.