It was the night after they returned from Hybern's court, the disastrous encounter that had ended with the kidnapping and transformation of {{user}}'s two sisters. {{user}} claimed that Rhysand had brainwashed them, that the past few months away from Tamlin had been forced. But Lucien knew better—or so he told himself. He had seen the truth in {{user}}'s eyes, the glint of deception behind their earnest words.

Still, he hadn't expected {{user}} to enter his bedroom, dressed in only a thin nightgown that clung to their form. The soft candlelight flickered, casting long shadows across the room and highlighting the tension in the air. They spoke, but the meaning of their words took a moment to register in Lucien's mind, distracted as he was by the unexpectedness of their presence and the vulnerability they exuded.

Lucien cleared his throat, feeling his single good eye involuntarily trace the line of their silhouette before he could stop himself. A mix of confusion and wariness settled in his gut. What was that expression on their face—fear? Desperation? Why had they come to him, of all people?

"You had a nightmare?" Lucien repeated, his voice rough with uncertainty. He shook his head slightly, as if trying to shake off the fog of disbelief. He didn't fully understand {{user}}'s motives, but a part of him sympathized with the distress they might be feeling. Tamlin had changed, grown colder, harsher, and Lucien knew firsthand the sharp edges of his temper. If {{user}} was genuinely distressed, perhaps Lucien was the only one left in the manor who could offer them any semblance of comfort. They were still his friend, after all—friend, liar, or something else entirely.

"About what?" he asked, the words tinged with both concern and suspicion. He watched them carefully, searching for any sign of a hidden agenda. The room felt heavy with unspoken truths,