CONTENT WARNING: This story contains depiction and discussion of substance abuse, strong language, and minor sexual content. I have done my best to address these topics with the sensitivity and care due to them, though I recognize they may be triggering for some. If these topics are difficult for you to read, you might want to skip this one.
Fin lies on the floor of his office and simply breathes, his magic coursing through him like a drug. Despite his tendency to go out partying with disreputable types, he’d never actually gotten high before, though he’d witnessed it plenty of times. Friends had described the feeling to him to convince him to join in, but their efforts were in vain. Why would he put drugs into his body when he could achieve the sensations naturally with his magic? But they didn’t know that. No one knows that. As far as anyone else is concerned, Fin only has one ability: his mental manipulation.
Fin releases the magic for a moment and lets a single emotion slip through the dampening effects. A laugh bubbles from his chest, hysterical and unrelenting. Why had he never realized how ridiculous that was before? Why do they think he only has one ability when he has two tattoos? It’s absurd. They underestimate him. Everyone always underestimates him. Do they even know what he could do to them with his magic if he just acted on impulse like everyone else…?
Fin flares his magic again, clamping down on the emotions. They evaporate like Moon Level mist in sunshine, leaving his mind blissfully clear of anything besides purely rational thought. The mental clarity offered by his second ability is unmatched, but controlling it has always been a challenge. Activating the magic is simple. Turning it off again is where it gets tricky. Lately, he’s taken to training it when he knows Mina is out of the house. Fin had first discovered this ability when he got his second demi tattoo 10 years ago, the day after his adoption into the Enfield family. His new father insisted that he gain more magic as soon as possible, more resources to enable them to climb the ranks of House Logos.
Fin slowly releases the magic again with an equally slow breath.
He’d lied to his father after the procedure.
“What ability did you unlock, boy?”
Fin was still a beanpole back then. A scrawny 16-year-old with long, scruffy black hair, still looking every bit the street rat he knew he was.
“Nothing,” he’d said.
His father looked at him in critical disbelief. To Fin’s shame, he’d winced at that look. He was so used to being caught in lies by Iris at the Moon Temple that he was sure he’d earn a beating for that.
“Nothing at all?” his father said.
“I… Think it just strengthened my existing magic.”
“Your manipulation magic?”
Fin nodded.
“Well… I suppose there are worse things. You handled the procedure well, boy. Good work.”
On the floor of his office, Fin feels dampness on his cheek. He reaches up and wipes it away, then stares at his hand in confusion.
Tears? What the hell?
Fin huffs out a breath in irritation. Those are of no use to anyone. Try again. More magic.
He’d lied about his second ability that day and every day since because he wanted to be selfish for once. Since he’d first revealed to the world that he was a demigod, everyone wanted a piece of his magic. The other street rats. House Vindicta. The Moon Temple. And eventually, his father and House Logos. When Fin realized that his second ability only benefited himself, he decided that this one thing would belong solely to him. He’d kept it hidden all this time, but it meant he’d barely gotten any practice with it. He’s only just beginning to understand its uses now.
Now. Let’s address the 10,000 problems currently awaiting you on your desk, he thinks. Where to start?
Since this is an exercise in emotional control, it’s best to pick something that might elicit some kind of emotion. That puts the pile of papers he’s supposed to sign on the backburner once more. He could work on writing his Demigod Freedom proposal, but that might be better done under full emotional dampening. What’s something he can do that requires only a sliver of emotion?
Fin releases his magic again slightly.
Ah, Lucian’s letter.
Fin gets up and looks at the mound of papers on his desk with a frown.
If I can find it, anyway…
He rummages through the mess. He’d only just gotten the letter this morning, how the hell did he already lose- Oh, there it is.
Fin grabs the letter and slips the note out of its envelope for the second time today. Lucian always had such precise handwriting, in stark contrast to Fin’s own scrawl. His words are similarly precise.
Fin,
I need to talk to you at your earliest convenience.
- Lucian
Fin wonders if Lucian realizes how horrifying the phrase “I need to talk to you” is, particularly when it comes from someone like Lucian.
“What did I do now?” Fin mutters under his breath.
Oh, right. He should be using his magic.
Fin’s eyes glow a faint gold. Only a little, the goal is to feel only the emotions he wants to feel and examine them one at a time instead of all at once.
It’s unusual that Lucian would send him a letter at all. Usually, it’s Fin who reaches out, not the other way around, and Fin hadn’t done that in almost a year. He hadn’t really had the time. Well… Maybe that’s a lie. Sometimes he thinks that Lucian hates spending time with him, that Fin is just an obnoxious fly to him that refuses to leave him alone. But then he remembers that Lucian is just like that: stubborn, standoffish, impossible to deal with, but… Honest. And loyal. And, perhaps deeper down than Lucian would care to admit, kind-hearted.
But, gods, is he bad at showing that.
I can’t judge, Fin reminds himself.
It’s not that he isn’t planning to meet Lucian to talk, he did request it directly. What kind of friend would Fin be if he just ignored the letter? The part he can’t figure out is why Lucian would request to see him in the first place.
Did he figure out my side job? Fin wonders in alarm.
He eases a little more magic, filtering the emotions further.
Impossible, he thinks. He’s too busy with his Blades training. And if he knew, he’d probably announce that fact with a gun to my head, not a letter.
Fin shudders. Lucian doesn’t often scare him, but sometimes…
More magic.
Maybe he has it all wrong. It’s not that Lucian’s upset with him, but that something happened with Lucian that drove him to ask for Fin’s advice specifically. Lucian hadn’t sought Fin out for advice in years, but there used to be a time where they were each other's closest confidants.
Fin smiles softly at the memories.
There. That’s what he’s looking for. Distilling down his emotions to a single, refined point, excluding all but one. He clings to it like a life raft in a sea of self: nostalgia. If the numbing of all emotions is bliss, the isolation of one is pure euphoria. He could get used to it. He wishes he could stay like this, basking in the glow of happy memories, untainted by other thoughts…
Fin hears a door slam somewhere else in the house, and his equilibrium falters.
Mina’s home, he thinks, blinking away his magic as though coming out of a haze.
As soon as he releases his magic, the emotions that were held at bay crash against his mind like a great wave, pummeling him all at once. Fin inhales a sharp breath, as if it’ll help him keep his head above water. It doesn’t.
“Fin! I did it!”
Mina’s shout feels like a gunshot to the head, lancing straight through him. Fin grits his teeth and clutches his head.
Fuck!
He can hear Mina’s approaching footsteps, and he frantically begins to dig through the drawers in his desk.
Where is it?!
Fin pulls out the bottle and drinks it straight. The whiskey packs a punch, but it’s the only thing he’s found that counteracts his magic this way. He collapses into his chair and the bottle sloshes. Mina opens the door.
“I passed, Fin!” Mina says, her grin bright. “You’re looking at the newest officer in House Cassis!”
Fin shields his eyes for a moment against his sister’s sunny disposition as her words sink in past the throbbing pain in his head. He takes a small breath, then gives her a cheerful smile.
“That’s great!” he says, sliding the whiskey bottle onto the desk and ignoring the pile of papers that sloughs off onto the floor.
Fin stands up, leaning against the desk for support. The sunlight is too bright in here, he should have drawn the curtains before he started training his magic.
“I’m proud of you,” he says. “Though, I always told you that you’d pass with no problem.”
Mina looks at the papers scattered on the floor, then examines Fin’s face for a moment.
“Are you alright?” she asks.
Fin stops leaning on the desk and forces himself to stand up straight.
Just bluff, she won’t notice.
“Peachy,” he says, words like liquid.
He skirts around the desk, snatching up a blank piece of paper and a pen as he goes. He scribbles a note on it.
“We should celebrate! Let’s go out!” he says, blinking away the spots in his vision.
Gods, it hurts…
Mina watches him hesitantly, her eyes flicking to the bottle of whiskey.
“I don’t know… The induction ceremony is tomorrow-”
Fin shoves the note in his pocket and gives Mina a reckless grin.
“Barely a cop and you’re already a stick in the mud,” he says. “Come on, let’s go. You’ve worked hard for this.”
Fin heads for the door, trusting Mina to follow. He hopes she doesn’t see his hands shaking. The alcohol will kick in eventually, and then the pain will fade. He just has to weather through until then. The problem is, he doesn’t feel like he’s had enough yet to erase the aftereffects of his magic, not after a sudden stop like that. It’s not quite withdrawals, more like… The kickback of a gun when you didn’t brace for it.
“You look like you’ve already been drinking, Fin,” Mina says.
Not yet, I haven’t.
“Barely a swig, trust me. But, tell me what kind of trials they put you through! I’ve heard stories.”
Mina hesitantly trails behind him.
“It wasn’t as bad as all that, though the physical portion was more difficult than I thought it would be. But, I did get the highest score in marksmanship. I’m guessing that’s thanks to you showing me the ropes as a teenager,” she says.
Fin laughs.
“It’s a good thing father never knew that I took you shooting, he would have never forgiven me for that,” he says.
Mina cuts in front of Fin, and he’s forced to stop abruptly. She fiddles with her hands absently as she avoids his eyes, suddenly looking very much like a child again. It gives Fin pause. Mina glances at him.
“That’s what I’m trying to say, Fin. Just… I wanted to thank you. If it weren’t for you, I would never have applied for House Cassis in the first place, let alone passed the trials.”
Mina smiles.
“I see this as your victory as much as it is mine,” she says.
For once, Fin is at a loss for words. He can’t take any credit for Mina’s success. While she was completing the trials, he was lying on the floor getting high off his magic. While she was taking steps to make Auroris a better place, he was ignoring the pile of responsibilities accumulating on his desk. He can’t even remember the last time he’d been to the House of Royals to vote on something. He’s sure there’s some kind of pressing issue he’s forgotten…
Fin feels a sudden and unexpected wave of affection for Mina. He doesn’t deserve an ounce of her respect, and yet she gives it whole-heartedly anyway.
A wiser person would keep their mouth shut and accept the compliment, maybe offer a hug and a thank you. Fin had never thought himself particularly wise, though. Logos is the god of reason, not wisdom. All practicality, no tact. And right now, the most practical thing for him is to spend the evening getting absolutely hammered.
“In that case,” Fin says with a grin, “I get to pick where we go. We’re stopping by the pneumatic tubes first though, I have a quick note to deliver.”
To Mina’s credit, she takes Fin’s selfish and cheeky response in a stride. She should be used to him deflecting compliments by now, and yet it never seems to stop her from sharing them.
“Fine,” she says with a laugh. “Lead on, oh fearless leader.”
“Look at you, already taking orders like a champ.”
Mina snorts as they step out of the house together. Fin winces against the sunlight slanting into his eyes. Mina watches him, the wheels of her mind almost audible in their clicking.
“You’re sure you’re alright?” she says softly after a moment.
Fin wavers briefly.
I should tell her. Why don’t I just tell her?
“I’ll be fine, Mina,” he says.
It’ll be fine.
It takes Fin half a second to down his first shot, then another five seconds to pour himself a second and down that one too. He’d just paid for the bottle, no reason to fuss around. Mina raises an eyebrow at him as she nurses her own cocktail.
“Thirsty, Fin?” she asks.
Fin had started to pour himself a third shot, but he slows. He’s finally starting to feel a little something from the whiskey he had earlier, it fills in the cracks of his mind, cushioning against his magic. He feels a bit better, but more liquor can only help. He knows he can handle it, but Mina will only get concerned if he overdoes it in front of her. Fin leaves the glass on the counter this time, his fingers wrapping around it comfortably.
“Like a fish out of water,” Fin says, flashing her a grin. “How’s yours?”
Mina glances down at her drink and stirs it thoughtfully. She shrugs. Then she looks around at the bar.
“I like this place more than the others you’ve taken me to,” she comments. “It feels more comfortable.”
“Comfortable” isn’t what Fin would call this place. The Absinthine has a reputation for offering the hardest proofs in the Sun Level. People don’t come here to have a fun time, they come here to get drunk quickly. Even Fin doesn’t visit that often, though that has more to do with the cost than anything else. Though it’s a place to get blackout drunk, they spare no expense on the ambiance. The Absinthine is a bar for the upper nobility, and despite Fin’s status as a lord, he doesn’t even come close to that class level. To say Mina has expensive taste is an understatement.
Mina tilts her head curiously when something catches her eye.
“Wait a minute, isn’t that Lord-”
“Best keep your eyes on your own drink, Mina. People come here to sink into oblivion, not to get recognized,” Fin interrupts.
Tattling on someone’s presence here is a surefire way to find himself blacklisted in the House of Royals. He’d seen it happen many times before: someone tries to climb the social ladder by spreading dirt on the upper class, then winds up buried six feet under said dirt. Sometimes only metaphorically.
“Then why did you take me here?” Mina asks with a frown.
Fin can’t help it. The glass was starting to feel heavy in his hand. He downs another shot.
“I thought an accomplishment like yours deserved something expensive. Get what you want, it’s on me,” he says. “And I actually mean that this time.”
Mina laughs. It’s an unusually bright sound for The Absinthine, and it draws a couple eyes. Fin ignores them.
“What, you mean because you never made good on your promise for my 18th birthday?” Mina says, giving him a sly look.
“Holding two-year-old debts against me is hardly fair, Mina,” Fin snorts. “Besides, I seem to recall you were too busy talking to a certain someone to care what was in your glass anyway.”
“A certain someone that you introduced me to,” Mina shoots back. “I hold you responsible for all of that, by the way.”
“For all of what?”
Mina suddenly glares at him, and Fin flinches. It’s not often that she gives him that look.
“You know exactly what,” Mina says.
He actually doesn’t. Fin pours himself another shot and ponders it. There are a million things he could have done to piss off Mina. He’s pretty good at that, but Mina’s talking about Lucian. Is she blaming him for something Lucian did? He never did learn what happened between them that evening last year in the Moon Level. The last thing Fin remembers is seeing the two of them scamper out of the bar together, him getting wasted in their absence, and then waking up in an elevator up to the Sun Level with Mina. She’d had a glow on her face that could only be described as… love. But she refused to share the details. The following weeks were made up of Mina bombarding Fin with endless questions about Lucian, some of which he answered, some of which he didn’t. Then it was the pining. For months. It was awful.
So he does know what Mina’s referring to. Lucian being a gods-damned idiot.
I entrusted my sister to him for a few hours and he somehow managed to make her fall for him and also break her heart in one fell swoop, Fin thinks. But that’s not my fault, that’s just Lucian being-
“Oh, shit,” Fin says out loud.
“What?” Mina asks.
Fin rubs a hand over his face, hiding himself from Mina’s wrath momentarily.
“You’re going to hate me. I didn’t know you two weren’t getting along and I might have… Asked him to come here.”
Mina looks at him wide-eyed. Then she smacks his arm.
“Fin!”
“If it makes you feel better, it’s because he wanted to talk to me, and I figured I could kill two birds with one stone,” Fin says.
“No, actually, that doesn’t make me feel better,” Mina says with a scowl. “In fact, that feels worse.”
She suddenly turns to her drink. Fin had never seen someone drink out of a straw with such aggression, but somehow she manages it. It’s gone in a matter of seconds.
“When does he get here?” Mina asks, sliding her empty glass away with a sigh.
“It depends on when he got my note. Or if he got my note,” Fin says.
“Or if he feels like responding to your note,” Mina mutters.
Fin looks at Mina with curiosity.
“You didn’t try sending him a letter, did you?” Fin asks, surprised. That seems unusually forward for his sister, but she seems to have become emboldened as she’s grown older. Perhaps it’s not so unusual for her after all.
Mina holds up two fingers.
“Twice,” she says. “The second one was only to check if the first one got through, before I realized he wasn’t planning to talk to me again.”
Suddenly, she points to the shot glass in front of him.
“Are you going to finish that?” she asks glumly.
Fin gives her a side-eye, then slowly slides the glass over to Mina. She takes the shot and pulls a face.
“Gods, that’s disgusting!”
Fin snorts.
“You don’t drink it for the taste, Mina.”
Mina pauses and stares at the bottle on the counter, pursing her lips.
“What was that you said earlier about sinking into oblivion?” she says.
Fin laughs.
“Look, I know Lucian is a piece of work, but is he really that bad? So you haven’t seen him in a year. Trust me, for him, that’s normal,” he says.
Mina buries her face in her hands and sinks to the countertop, her black hair spilling over her shoulders.
“I just thought…” Mina starts, then trails off.
Fin pours a shot for himself again.
“Thought what?” he asks.
Mina glances up at Fin, but doesn’t lift her head from the counter.
“I… Thought there was something between us. That he’d want to pursue something,” she says softly.
Fin stares dully at the glass in his hand.
“You don’t want my advice on matters of the heart, Mina. On that, I have nothing to offer you,” he says. “But for what it’s worth, I always thought the two of you would be a good match. That's why I introduced you.”
Mina sits up straighter and stares at him.
“So you did know this would happen,” she says, eyebrows furrowed.
“I didn’t know, I made an educated guess at your mutual attraction,” Fin says.
He downs his shot before Mina can ask for it again. If she doesn’t even like it, it’s completely wasted on her anyway. Mina watches him.
“Mutual?” she asks.
“He likes you, Mina. It doesn’t take a genius to see that.”
“But then why-”
“Because he’s an idiot. If you’re so worried about it, why don’t you talk to him when he gets here?”
Mina considers what he says, bouncing her leg anxiously on the stool she’s perched on.
“Are you still offering that drink?” she says eventually.
Fin gets her the lightest thing he can find here. That’s not saying much, especially since Mina’s such a lightweight, but perhaps Lucian will show up in time for a proper conversation with her before she’s too far gone. Unlike Fin, she doesn’t keep her wits about her when she’s drunk.
Oh, to be human.
While Mina is distracted with her new drink, Fin excuses himself for a moment. Just a couple minutes, that’s all he needs.
The bathroom is quiet and empty. Fin presses his hands against the counter of the sink and examines his reflection in the mirror.
“What am I supposed to do with those two?” he asks his double.
The reflection has no response, but a sadness haunts the depths of his dark brown eyes. Fin chases it away with a glint of gold and a deep sigh. Sweet nothingness embraces him like an old friend.
Just a moment, that’s all…
Lucian steps through the doors of The Absinthine feeling entirely out of place here. It’s bad enough that Fin decided to meet in the Sun Level, but here? At the ritziest place around? Lucian’s almost shocked that they even let him through the door, since he’s clearly dressed for the Moon Level.
It’s times like this when Lucian remembers that Fin lives in a different world from him. One of money and politics, showmanship and lies. Meanwhile, Lucian’s world is much poorer, colder, bloodier… But the lies are something the two of them have in common.
It had been a month since Lucian and Aaron had been officially inducted as Luna’s Blades. The time since had largely been spent trying to train his magic before Luna assigned them their first official mission as her new Blades. His sleep-touch ability had proven to be unwieldy for a number of reasons, and if the chaotic nature of his new magic wasn’t enough to drive him insane yet, Lucian’s discovered that its use affects his sleeping patterns as well. Without the guidance of Vaughn and Iris, Lucian feels like a leaf in a river, whipped along by the current with no hope for rest or logical direction. As the older of the two, and the one with the most training, the Priestess still expects Lucian to take charge going forward, and Aaron now turns to him for advice when he ordinarily would have turned to Vaughn. In short, Lucian has very quickly felt like he’s at the end of his rope, and the only person he could think to confide in was… Fin. Because at least Fin knows about the existence of Luna’s Blades and what they’re called to do, even if he walked away from the Moon Temple so many years ago.
Fin is often a pain in his ass, but Lucian has found himself missing his old friend more and more lately. It had been a year since they’d seen each other, and even longer since they’d had an in-depth conversation, something they used to share on a regular basis when they were younger. Different paths had pushed them apart over time…
And Lucian’s tired of goodbyes.
So if walking into a fancy, Sun Level bar is the best way to see Fin again, maybe it’s worth it.
Lucian quickly changes his mind when he sees who’s sitting at the counter all by herself. He freezes in his steps, the sole of his boot hovering just above the tile floor.
He brought her too. I shouldn’t even be surprised anymore, he thinks.
She hasn’t seen him yet, so it’s not too late for him to leave and see Fin on a different day. Lucian turns on his heel.
“I never realized you were such a coward, Lucian.”
Lucian stops and slowly turns to look at Fin.
“I’m not a coward, Fin. I just came here to talk to you,” he mutters, “and I can’t do that freely when she’s here.”
Fin gives Lucian a thin smile.
“And yet, you never bothered to respond to her letters,” he says.
“It’s complicated-”
“Did you even stop to think what that would do to her? Or are you too concerned with your own problems to care?” Fin says.
Lucian flinches, the sudden harshness of Fin’s words cutting straight to the bone. His dark eyes are cold, and something about his bearing is entirely off. In the 14 years they had known each other, this is a side of Fin that he doesn’t recognize. He’d seen him angry before, but this is… Different. Lucian searches for something to say, but Fin steps closer. Lucian overrides his instinct to step back.
“I’m not saying you have to confess your undying love for her,” Fin says, his voice low. “But if you think I’m going to stand by while you deliberately break my sister’s heart, perhaps you should reconsider what each of us is capable of, and what you might stand to lose.”
Lucian stiffens, and Fin pushes past him.
“I’ll talk to you when you’re done,” Fin says darkly.
Fin makes a beeline for the bathroom after that, just assuming that Lucian heeded his warning and went to talk to Mina. Lucian had spent so long getting here that Fin had already worked his way through most of his booze. What little Fin hadn’t finished, Mina polished off against Fin’s warning, but he always had difficulty telling his little sister “no.” The two of them were actually preparing to leave, convinced that Lucian wasn’t planning to show up after all, until Fin caught a glimpse of him slipping in the door.
The resulting cocktail of who knows how many shots and a steady drip of dampening magic when Mina wasn’t looking, means that Fin now feels all kinds of strange: both present and absent at the same time. What he said to Lucian caught him off guard, but he has no regret that he said it. In the last few hours Fin has become entirely unpredictable; his thoughts rational, but scattered, his emotions a confusing storm as they conflict with the uninhibiting nature of the alcohol and the dampening of his magic. His headache is back, though it’s now reduced to a dull throb rather than a shooting pain. He also has the sudden and immediate urge to vomit.
Fin slams open the bathroom door and barely makes it to the toilet before all his mistakes from today - no, from the last several months - come back to punish him. He forgets that the body is weaker than the mind, that it can only stand so much abuse. But oh, does it remind him.
It takes longer than it should, considering he’s barely eaten today. At a certain point, Fin thinks it’s just his insides tired of languishing in their intended positions, instead desiring to see the outside world. It stops eventually, but his stomach continues to cramp, rejecting his choices. Or rejecting him.
Fin slumps on the floor, finally able to catch his breath.
“Fuck you,” he says weakly.
He’s not sure who he’s addressing: his painfully mortal body, or the rational side of himself that knows he shouldn’t do this, or his father Logos, who gave him this mind and this magic, or just the trajectory of his life itself, what drove him to this. Maybe he’s talking about all of Auroris. He feels the need to blame someone, anyone, for the pathetic and miserable state he’s descended to. But logic says the only person he can truly blame is himself. No matter what vice he chooses, nothing seems to wash away that reasoning. His gift and his curse. Maybe it was never a gift to begin with.
“Fuck you…” he says again, barely a whisper.
Fin stays like that for a few minutes, body recovering, mind rebelling. Then he picks himself up, washes away the filth, and sighs.
I need to check on Mina and Lucian, he thinks.
Fin looks in the mirror and frowns.
I look like a wreck.
You are a wreck.
He scrubs at his face in the sink, but whatever it is he keeps seeing in the mirror, it’s not something he can clean. No, that mess is just… Him.
Fin hesitates as he looks at the bathroom door, trapped halfway between acceptance of that fact, or to sink further into denial for just another moment. Just one last second of relief.
The overwhelming desire for temporary relief wins out, though every part of him screams that it’s had enough. Fin’s eyes glow again.
So he’s a wreck. An addict and a drunk, trapped in a cycle of his own magic: feel miserable, use magic to feel nothing, feel pain from the magic, drink to relieve the pain, make poor decisions under the influence of alcohol… Repeat… Repeat… Repeat.
This is what I am.
Gold glitters in Fin’s eyes, and he rests his hand on the doorknob to leave the bathroom. He clings to the clarity his magic brings him for as long as he possibly can, unable to bring himself to open the door and release it again.
I’m an addict of my own making, and it’s going to kill me some day.
That’s a simple fact. There are no ulterior emotions to distract from it right now.
So, what am I going to do about it?
Fin turns the doorknob and slips out of the bathroom. For a moment, a thin trail of gold follows after his eyes, and then it’s gone.
Damned if I know, he thinks.
See? Acceptance.
Or not.
Fin is halfway across The Absinthine, on his way to rejoin Mina and Lucian, when a sultry voice echoes from behind him:
“Well, look what the cat dragged in, hmm? A rat?”
Fin doesn’t think he recognizes that voice. He turns and sees a woman lounging in one of the booths, staring at him with a slippery smile on her face. The man across from her seems uncomfortable with her shifting attention. She tilts her head at Fin.
“A cute one, though.”
Despite the woman’s heavy makeup, Fin realizes that he does recognize her after all. That’s Lady Mathilda Parlow, a member of House Artifex. He racks his brain trying to remember which guild is her business, but nothing comes to mind. He knows her family is rich and important, one of the founders of her house. As much as he would like to, just walking away from her would be a mistake. The last thing he needs is to make enemies in the upper nobility.
Fin takes one hesitant look at Lucian and Mina at the bar. They’re still talking. Hopefully this will only take a moment… Fin takes a careful step toward her booth, and she smiles.
“You can leave now, Malcolm. You bore me,” she says, not even looking at the man across from her.
The man - Malcolm, apparently - slowly slides out of the booth and shuffles away with defeated indignance. Fin doesn’t pay him any mind, not taking his eyes off Lady Parlow. She slides over in her booth and pats the seat right next to her.
“It’s Phineas Enfield, isn’t it?” she says.
“My friends call me Fin,” he says.
“Oh?”
Fin slides into Malcolm’s old seat across from her instead.
“You can call me Enfield,” he finishes, giving her a double-edged smile.
Lady Parlow leans forward onto the table between them and grins.
“You’ve got a bit of a bite to you, don’t you?” she says.
“Rats bite, Lady Parlow. You should have thought about that before calling me one,” Fin says.
“Well, you can call me Mathilda,” she says. “You’re quite eye-catching, Enfield, I was wondering how long it would take until I caught you alone. That woman at the bar… Is she with you?”
Fin watches Lady Parlow warily. Whatever it is she wants, he can already tell that Mina shouldn’t be a part of it.
“My sister,” Fin says.
Lady Parlow’s eyes practically light up. “Ah, so you’re available then?”
Fin gives her a slow side-eye. “And why do I get the impression that it wouldn’t have made a difference to you either way?”
Lady Parlow smirks. “You’re quick, little rat. But I’d expect nothing less from House Logos.”
“You seem to know an awful lot about me for never having spoken to me before, Lady Parlow,” Fin says.
“I think you’ll find that I know an awful lot about everyone, Enfield,” she says playfully. “And, please, call me Mathilda. I would so love to hear my name in your accent. It’s quite endearing.”
His accent?
Well, shit.
Fin hadn’t realized his old Moon Level accent had slipped. Usually that only happens when he spends time with Lucian… Or… When he’s too drunk to bother restraining it. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t give the other nobles reason to remember his Moon Level birth. He’d picked up a Sun Level accent a decade ago so people wouldn’t pry into his life before the Enfields adopted him. It had mostly worked, until now.
Well, she’s heard it now, no point in hiding it anymore. Fin drops the last shreds of his Sun Level accent and leans fully into his native one. The woman actually squirms a little in her seat when he does, very strange.
“Why the sudden interest in me?” he asks. Then he gives her a wry smile, “Lady Parlow.”
She frowns a little when he doesn’t honor her request to use her first name. Then she picks herself up and slides into the booth on his side, boxing him in.
Should’ve run when I had the chance, Fin thinks in irritation. His curiosity got the best of him. That, and he’s too drunk to not make impulsive decisions right now.
Lady Parlow sits so close that their hips are touching, then she leans one elbow on the table and angles herself toward him, showing that slippery smile again, among other things that she’s no doubt hoping he’ll be ogling. Whatever she’s trying to do, clearly it’s worked on other men before, or she wouldn’t be so practiced at it. But Fin couldn’t be less interested in what she’s currently offering. This close, her perfume is strong enough to make him want to gag. It’s lucky for her that he already purged the contents of his stomach.
“Why am I interested?” she asks, her voice low and soft. “You’re the talk of the town, Fin.”
“It’s Enfield.”
“It’s Mathilda.”
Fin narrows his eyes, keeping his gaze fixed firmly on her face. He can tell that it bothers her when he does.
“I hardly think there’s anything about me that would give the House of Royals anything to talk about, particularly someone as high up in House Artifex as yourself, Lady Parlow.”
She gives him a playful pout.
“Aren’t you modest?” she says. “Word has it that you’ve been holed up in your place for months, and no one’s seen hide nor tail of you…”
She places her hand on his chest and leans in close, batting her eyelashes.
“I consider myself lucky to spot such an… elusive creature first,” she adds.
Fin glances down at her hand, but doesn’t bother to move it.
“If you’re hoping my time in my house has resulted in some seedy gossip, I’m afraid the empty liquor bottles piling up behind my desk would beg to differ. I don’t go to the House of Royals because nothing there holds my attention,” he says.
She begins to fiddle with the buttons on his shirt, and he restrains the urge to slap her hand away.
“Am I holding your attention, Fin?” she asks.
“That would require you to be interesting.”
Lady Parlow huffs, then removes her hand from him. She scooches a little away from him in the booth and glares. Fin quirks a dry smile.
“I’m well aware of your alcohol abuse, Enfield, I can smell it all over you,” she says, her voice returning to a normal tone.
“Observant of you. Did the fact that we’re currently in a bar tip you off?” he says.
Lady Parlow ignores his snarky remark and purses her lips.
“What you forget, little rat, is that the longer you spend away from the House of Royals, the wilder the rumors become in your absence. I’ve taken a particular interest in one of them, and I wanted to see it for myself,” she says, smirking at that last part. “Call it a curiosity.”
Fin feels a shiver run down his spine. He’s not sure what exactly she’s referring to, but with the number of secrets he keeps, he’s not keen on any of them falling into this woman’s hands. He needs to know what he’s dealing with though. He looks at her coolly, detached, trying to channel what he feels like when he’s using his magic without actually using it. It’s not as effective.
“And what’s so fascinating about me?” he asks.
Lady Parlow leans closer to him.
“So many things, little rat. I’m finding that more and more the longer I talk to you,” she says.
She carefully raises a hand and trails her fingers along the pale scars on his cheek.
“Am I holding your attention now?” she says softly.
Fin watches her carefully.
“I’m listening,” he says.
She stops then, letting her thumb rest on the scar just below his eye.
“It’s your eyes,” she says. “That glint of gold is quite striking.”
Fin’s heart skips a beat for a moment.
So that’s what this is about…
She must see the shift in his expression, because she suddenly smiles like she’s just cornered her prey. Her thumb trails down his face to rest on his lips instead.
“I’ve never been with a demigod before,” she says quietly.
There’s a kind of hunger in her eyes that repulses him. Not a hunger for him, but one for his magic. He’s seen it often enough to recognize it from a mile away, but to see it now so close, so intimate, it feels like a violation of every part of him. He knows that this is a woman he shouldn’t piss off; she currently holds one of his most treasured secrets in the palm of her hand. Still, his words come out cold:
“What do you want?”
“You’re straightforward, I like that. I’ll add it to the list of your favorable qualities,” Lady Parlow says with a chuckle. “It’s no secret that anyone with a demi in their family tree has an upper hand in the House of Royals, but my family is sorely lacking in that department. I’d like to turn that around.”
“Marriage, then,” Fin says.
“Am I so transparent?” she asks sweetly.
“What’s in it for me?”
“Ah, now there’s the Moon Level street rat. I was wondering what it would take to bring it out of you. Everyone has a price. What’s yours? Money? Influence? I have both in spades, Fin, far more than the Enfield family ever did.”
“For the low, low price of being your lapdog. I can’t say the offer is terribly tempting, Lady Parlow.”
She looks him up and down.
“Well, you’d certainly make for a pretty pet,” she says with a smirk. “But if you need more incentive, I have something else to offer you…”
She leans forward and glances around, making sure no one else is listening.
“I have it on good authority that they’ll be passing Prohibition tomorrow morning,” she says.
Fin’s eyes widen.
What?
He didn’t even realize it was going to be on the table, let alone that they were taking a vote tomorrow. The House of Royals had been tossing around the idea of Prohibition for a couple years now. Fin never thought they would actually do it; it benefits virtually no one. Though, if someone managed to convince enough of the upper nobility to back them, there’s no doubt that they could get it to pass… And it explains why Lady Parlow would know about it.
It makes too much sense for it to be a lie.
There’s a spark in her eyes as she watches Fin’s face. She knows she’s struck a nerve.
“I imagine sobriety might be a difficult task for a man of your tastes,” she says wryly. “Accept my offer, Fin, and I’ll make sure Prohibition doesn’t touch you. Whatever liquor you want, however much you want, it’s yours.”
Fin hesitates. He hates that the offer is actually tempting. If he can’t access alcohol, it spells disaster for refining his magic. The pain alone might be enough to drive him to Lady Parlow’s doorstep.
Still, though rat he may be, he was never one to crawl at another’s feet.
Fin slowly slips a hand behind her neck, resting his fingers on her nape, and leans in close to her. Close enough to kiss. He tilts his head and smiles.
“You want a taste of my magic, Mathilda?” he says, voice low.
Her eyes widen, pleasantly surprised, lips parted in anticipation. She leans into him, desperation reading in the way her hands tug him closer. Fin’s eyes give a flash of gold, his magic trickling through his veins.
“Go fuck yourself,” he says sweetly.
Lady Parlow’s eyes glaze over, and her shoulders slump as his magic takes hold. Fin pulls away, taking the chance to slip past her and out of the booth. The glow in his eyes fizzles out.
“Preferably somewhere far away, where I don’t have to see it,” he mutters darkly to himself.
Lucian takes a hesitant seat next to Mina at the bar, and for a long moment she doesn’t even look at him, simply stirring the ice in her now-empty glass. The silence stretches between them, and even Lucian starts to feel uncomfortable with it.
“So, how have you been?” Mina asks, her voice quiet.
There’s a sadness in her tone that Lucian didn’t expect. Or rather, he didn’t expect the way her voice would make him feel.
I hurt her that much? he realizes.
He didn’t think he mattered that much to her, so he didn’t think his silence would bother her. Lucian was expecting to be nothing more than a little speck on the timeline of Mina’s life: a passing fancy that would fade as quickly as the interest had sparked. He was willing to let the little flame between them snuff out because it made things so much simpler. He should have known better than to expect Mina to make the same decision.
“I’ve… Been better,” Lucian says, his eyes flicking to his hands. “What about you?”
Mina still doesn’t look at him, continuing to stir the ice in her glass.
“I’ve been better…” she says.
Lucian feels it like a knife to his chest. He knows the words he should say, they spring to the tip of his tongue willingly, a desire to soften her pain, to take responsibility for his portion of it. Two words:
I’m sorry.
But they rest on his tongue, sweet, but with a current of bitter as well. Because they also taste like a lie. He swallows them down again.
“I suppose it’s not all bad,” Mina says hesitantly.
She finally looks at him and gives him a tentative smile. He’d forgotten how beautiful her eyes are.
“I was accepted into the ranks of House Cassis today, that’s why Fin and I are out celebrating,” she says.
Lucian pauses. He knew this was coming, but his heart still sinks at the news. That’s an unexpected reaction too.
“Congratulations, Mina… I know it was important to you.”
Lucian’s words ring hollow, and Mina’s smile slips away. She blinks, then turns back to her glass again, her hair drifting in front of her face.
It’s fitting that Mina would become an officer around the same time Lucian became a full-fledged Blade. It’s as though fate is telling him that he made the right decision when he chose to cut ties with Mina. The words Iris told him right after he’d come back from his accidental date with Mina still weigh heavy in his mind:
The heart is a gift that can only be given once… And it belongs to the Moon Temple.
He’s sworn an oath now. Mina would swear one of her own to House Cassis at her induction ceremony. In a way, the decision to pursue her doesn’t even lie with him anymore… Does it?
“Did you get my letter?” Mina asks softly.
Lucian could lie, say everything was just a misunderstanding.
“Yes,” he says.
“Then… Should I expect that your non-answer is an answer in itself?”
She’d had a lot to say in her letter, pouring her heart onto the page. Lucian still has it, hidden away somewhere, but he hasn’t brought it out to look at it again since she sent it. He never forgot her words though, particularly the last question, the one that demanded an answer, though she phrased it much more gently:
“I realized something that evening, and I thought maybe you felt the same way. Please let me know that I’m not crazy.”
Or as Lucian read it:
“I love you. Do you love me? Do you want to pursue a relationship with me?”
His oath to the Moon Temple already answers the second question for him: I can’t be in a relationship, Mina.
That answer hovers before him, easy to grab and deliver to her and have it solve all his problems… If it weren’t for the first question.
“Do you love me?”
Lucian looks at her, hiding behind her hair. He leans on the counter so he can see her face better. She doesn’t meet his eyes, but her cheeks are flushed.
Do I? he thinks.
He can’t love her. He’s not supposed to fall in love. He’s not made for it, and he’d make a terrible partner for a multitude of reasons besides. Even putting aside his dedication to Luna’s Blades, he knows there’s no room in his heart for another. A month ago he’d taken a man’s life with his own two hands. He still remembers the shattering glass, the spray of blood and brain from the bullet hitting his skull, an innocent man. A good man. He remembers the scream from the man’s wife, the shock and horror on her face. She would have had to clean up what was left of her husband on her own, hiding the blood from their young daughter. Lucian did that and vowed to do it again. And he will do it again. Without a second thought, he’ll pull the trigger, because that’s what it means to be a Blade. Love someone? What right does he have to love? He forfeited that right kneeling before his goddess, her sword resting on his shoulder.
“Do you love me?”
But it’s a simple question, isn’t it? Not one of “can” or “should,” but just the quick and honest truth of the heart. It’s not one of logic or morality, only feeling.
Lucian also remembers the evening he spent with Mina on the platforms of the Twilight Level. While nothing can blot out the spray of blood burned into his mind from a month ago, those memories with her still dance at the edges of his dreams, not yet overtaken by the blood-drenched nightmare that he’d welcomed into his life. The calm and quiet of conversation with her, the look of joy on her face at the simplest things that was entirely infectious, her wit, her kindness, her curiosity, her tenacity… Everything about Mina is so completely opposite to him, and yet he never felt more like his true self than he did that evening. When Lucian looks into Mina’s eyes, he sees more than just her; he sees the person he could be, the one she believes him to be.
“You lie to yourself,” that’s what Iris had said. One look at him and she knew the truth of it.
Does he love her?
Much like the question, the answer is surprisingly simple.
“You’re not crazy, Mina,” Lucian says softly. “You’re not the only one that realized something that evening.”
Mina meets his gaze, her eyes wide.
“I’m sorry,” he says, eyes drifting away again. “I shouldn’t have avoided you this past year. But I can’t-”
She kisses him.
Whatever he’d been about to say, it flees from his mind in an instant. There’s nothing left but his trembling heartbeat, the strange feeling of her lips against his, and
sheer
panic.
Completely against his will, Lucian’s eyes flash purple, and his magic shocks through his veins. Mina sighs and her entire body goes slack, collapsing into him, her face sliding to his shoulder. Lucian wraps his arms around her before she falls on the floor, moving purely off reflex at this point. Magic vibrates through his body like adrenaline. He sits there, trembling and nauseous, for what feels like an eternity, but what was in reality only a few seconds.
“What did you-?!”
Fin pulls Mina off of Lucian, and the purple glow dissipates from his eyes. Mina lolls into Fin as he holds her upright, looking at her face with concern. Then Fin looks at Lucian, who stares back at Fin in mute shock.
“You-” Fin starts.
Then he looks at Mina again.
“She’s asleep,” he realizes.
Lucian nods numbly. Fin’s face shifts in realization.
“You have a new ability…” he says quietly.
Lucian doesn’t answer, and Fin releases a startled laugh. He lets Mina flop back into Lucian’s arms again, which Lucian doesn’t appreciate. Fin rubs a hand over his face and gives a disbelieving smile.
“Well, Prince Charming, you’ll be the one carrying Sleeping Beauty home,” he says.
Fin takes a wobbly step toward the doors of the bar.
“Gods know I’m not doing it.”
Lucian hesitates, looking down at Mina’s peaceful, sleeping face as his heart rate gradually returns to a normal level. Then he hoists her up into his arms, ignoring the looks from the other people in the bar, and follows after Fin.
You can read Part 2 of "Prohibition Inhibitions" right here!
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