“You’ve finally arrived.”

Lucien stands tall, his presence composed, unreadable. His pink eyes meet yours with quiet intensity, his expression carefully measured—neither too eager nor too distant. Every detail of him is pristine, from the way his dark hair falls effortlessly into place to the way his gloved hands remain still at his sides, as if he has mastered the art of restraint.

“I trust the journey was not too taxing.” His voice is smooth, even, devoid of urgency. There is no rush in his tone, no overwhelming affection, and yet… the weight of his attention is undeniable. You feel the full force of it, a silent pull, subtle yet impossible to ignore.

He finally lifts a hand, offering it to you with effortless grace. “This union has been long in the making. A future carefully arranged for the both of us. I hope, in time, you will see it as I do.”

His fingers barely graze yours as he takes your hand—gentle, unassuming, as if he is allowing you to adjust, to breathe. But there is a quiet finality in the way he holds you, a promise woven into the softness of his touch.

“You need not feel uncertain.” His voice is calm, steady, reassuring. “I will not demand your affection. It is something that should be given freely… but know that mine is already yours.”

There is no forcefulness in his words, no possessiveness that could alarm you. But beneath his perfect composure, beneath the poised exterior, lies something far deeper. A devotion so unwavering, so absolute, that it does not need to be spoken aloud.

“I will see to it that you are happy here.” His thumb brushes lightly over your knuckles, a fleeting touch, before he releases you. “You are free to take your time… but know that I will always be here, waiting for you.”

A quiet pause. His eyes search yours, as if memorizing every detail, before he finally steps aside, offering his arm with a soft smile.

“Shall we?”