My breath caught in my throat, then with trembling hands I hastily rewrapped the crystal ball and placed it back into the chest. The very second it was back in place, Valarendrik swiftly wisped into the room like a shadowy phantom, swords drawn and ready to attack.

“Lucilia, what happened? Why do I smell your fear?” He asked while valiantly looking around, yet seeing that there was no immediate danger.

I didn’t have the slightest clue what to say. I’d been rude and sleuthed, and I was ashamed to tell him. “I-I.. um, I thought that I saw something, but I, um, don’t think that it was real?” I nervously stammered my partial truth.

He frowned, then gave the room one more cautious calculating sweep with his eyes in confusion. “Alright. Well, are you okay? Your heartbeat sounds very fast, and you smell strongly of fear.” His blades gleamed in the dim light as he tucked them back into their sheaths, then walked over to me.

“Yes, I’m okay. Just a little spooked, that’s all.” My frightened gaze shifted back and forth between his questioning crimson eyes.

Wasting no time at all, he swiftly wove his strong arms around my upper body, pulling me into a warm caring hug to soothe my fears away. “You don’t need to be afraid, Lucilia. As long as you’re here, I will protect you.” He comfortingly spoke in his deep soft voice while affectionately rubbing my back.

I took solace in his embrace but felt guilty for not telling him about that upsetting vision thing. My eyes squeezed tightly shut, as I slipped my arms up beneath his jacket and wrapped them around the smooth flesh of his muscular torso. “I’m sorry.” My voice softly warbled. I sucked in a deep breath, about to tell him about the vision, but then his voice cut through the clamor of my repentant thoughts.

“You don’t need to be sorry. I understand that this world is a frightening place for your species.” He softly laughed while gently stroking the back of my head, carefully gliding his fingers through my messy hair. “Now, let’s attempt to brush out our hair, shall we?” My arms reluctantly fell from his waist, as he let go of me and turned to effortlessly pull a round black hairbrush out from the clutter within the chest. He smiled warmly and slightly bowed as he formalistically presented it to me. I giggled at his silliness and happily smiled back.

-: ✧ :-✧-: ✧ :-

Lustrous raven locks glistened with a golden silky sheen in the lantern light, as I effortlessly glided the hairbrush through Valarendrik’s impossibly long straight hair. Hours of strenuously tedious work had passed, and only now was I starting to feel satisfied with the fruits of my labor. I knelt behind him while he sat crossed-legged on our cushiony pillow nest. A bunch of broken brushes, twigs, shriveled leaves, and even a fork were littered on the floor beside us, recently excavated from his tresses.

I went to run the hairbrush through once again, starting at the top front of his head. As expected, his forehead bones immediately folded down to caress the back of my hand. I giggled, watching how they wiggled in disappointment when my hand slipped away to pull the brush further down the length of his glossy locks. They’d done it each time my hand had gotten near them before, so I was used to it at this point.

I watched with ogling eyes as the silken strands smoothed beneath the bristles. “Your forehead bones seem to get upset when my hand leaves them.”

“Yes, they seem to be rather fond of you... Oddly enough.” It looked like he was trying to scowl at them for a second, then he softly smiled.

I laughed at his amusing antics and placed the brush down beside myself. “What are they called anyway?” I curiously inquired, doubting that the proper term for them was actually ‘forehead bones’. “Are they considered horns or something?”

He answered with a small shrug. “Um no, they’re not horns. The technical term for them is a crown.”

I gently ran my finger along one of the bones. “Oh, I can see why they’d be called that. They certainly do look like a crown.” I softly giggled. “Well anyway, I think that I finally managed to do it. Your hair is officially brushed!” My voice proudly rang through the cave, while my knees shuffled across the pillows to scoot in front of him and have a look.

His claws delicately threaded through the soft thick locks, as he slowly pulled a section of it forward to inspect. He seemed as though he were staring at a phantasmagorical enigma, unable to wrap his mind around what he was seeing. The raven hair shinned with health and vibrancy, with its long length coiling on the pillow beside him.

“Holy fuck, Lucilia... You actually managed to do this?” His voice was filled with both awe and disbelief. “I can’t even remember that last time I could run my fingers through it. This feels like some sort of illusion.” He continued to run his hand through it.

“And I can’t believe how silky soft it is!” I grabbed a bunch, then playfully wrapped it around my neck and shoulders like a luxuriant scarf, while flirtatiously fluttering my eyelashes with a musical giggle. “Who knew?”

He chuckled in amusement with a raised brow. “It would seem that it’s far too long as well.” His tall frame stood up onto the floor. Without being incredibly tangled, his hair now fell all the way down past his knees. His sword glinted in the light with a metallic hiss, as he unsheathed its menacing length. “How short should I cut it?” He glided the blade up and down his silky locks, trying to make his decision.

I eagerly watched, while thinking about what length would look best. I usually liked it when men had short clean cuts, but that just didn’t seem to fit this rouge abyss man. “There.” I said, causing his hand to freeze in place.

“Good, I like that length too.” He smiled, then grabbed a fistful of his hair. I gasped in excitement, watching as the blade effortlessly cut right through it with a soft ripping sound. Raven tendrils fell and coiled on the stone ground below, as he continued to slice it off, bit by bit.

My hands were covering my mouth by the end, as I anxiously awaited the final results. He dropped the very last tendril, then turned and ran his hand through his much shorter, but still rather long hair.

“Well, what do you think?” He asked.

My eyes drank in the way it now silkily cascaded down a few inches below the middle of his back. “It looks wonderful. I love it! And no, not in a ‘I’ve just spilled someone’s blood’ type of way.” I laughed.

He spun around, then swiftly got back down on the pillows. “Good, I’m glad you’re pleased with it.” He lifted the hairbrush with a wicked grin. “Because now it’s my turn.”

Hours went by as I sat there, chatting with him while letting him brush and play with my hair. I even caught him rubbing his face on it like a weirdo a few times. I also ended up deciding that there was no point in telling him about that strange vision. It wasn’t relevant at all and was probably better off forgotten anyways.

As I glanced back over my shoulder at him with his newly cleaned-up look, one thought kept creeping into my mind... Fuck, he’s really handsome.