Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Lucien was reclining in his chair, watching as his mechanical raven Diaval projected a holographic image before him. The dim glow of the red crystal embedded in the raven’s head cast partial light across his face, while the rest of the office remained cloaked in shadow.

Beatriz had changed. He’d noticed it the moment she crossed the threshold after those chaotic days, right after he gave her the so-called “brooch test.” He remembered perfectly how she had reacted to the resonance between her ether core and his during their first clash. That brief, electric spark of power had touched something in him—something he hadn’t felt in years: vulnerability .
Of course, he’d never say that out loud. Not to his ravens. Not to anyone.
But that sensation still prowled in the corners of his mind.

Back then, Beatriz had been all impulse and recklessness, acting more with brute force than strategy—like a wild, untamed flame. At times she irritated him; at others, she intrigued him. But never in his life had he imagined that the crow-shaped brooch , the red crystal he once regarded as nothing more than a symbol of his dominion, would become something more .

He had let her steal it.
Or rather, he had allowed her to earn it—after putting her through a series of tests that, in hindsight, might seem cruel .
But to Lucien , those weren’t just games. They were a filter , a crucible to measure who was worthy of entering his domain.
That brooch, with its brilliant red core , now belonged to her .
Or better said—rested in her hands .

“I did it for strategy,”
he told himself every time he remembered that moment.
“It was just a pass. A symbol. Nothing more.”

But the change in Beatriz since then proved otherwise.
There was something new in her—something deeper.
Not fear of him , as it had been in the beginning, but a fear that seemed to stem from a place within herself .
As if she were facing something—or someone—that made her question her own reflection .

What struck him most was that this change hadn’t made her weaker .
It made her shine more brightly.

Lucien leaned forward, resting an elbow on the chair’s armrest as he stared at the images his ravens had captured of his last encounter with Beatriz .

“It’s as if she’s been... reforged,”
he thought, recalling the process by which steel, when subjected to intense heat and constant blows, becomes a stronger, more resilient alloy.
Beatriz now had that same essence—a blend of purity and strength, as if her cracks had been filled with something far tougher than before.

It was strange, even for him.
He had spent lifetimes searching for her— the reincarnation of the witch he once loved—waiting for the moment they would meet again.
But this version of Beatriz wasn’t exactly what he had expected.

“She’s... different,”
he admitted to himself—a thought he barely dared to form.

She wasn’t the same girl he remembered.
Nor the one he’d met just weeks ago.
And the worst part—or the best, depending on his mood—was that this difference kept him tethered , like a riddle he couldn’t stop trying to solve.

His fingers curled slightly as he remembered their last training session.
She had almost knocked him out.
And her expression in that moment had disarmed him more than the blow itself.
There was something new in her eyes: a quiet strength , a calculated resolve he’d never seen before.
It wasn’t the impulsive recklessness of the original protagonist he’d once known—this was something more mature , more terrifying in its control .

“What happened to you, Beatriz?”
he murmured, more to himself than to the ravens watching silently around him.

The raven projecting the images tilted its head slightly, almost in response.
He ignored it. He knew he wouldn’t get answers from them.

Because the answers were with her .

“Pure, but not innocent,”
he reflected.
“Fragile, yet unbreakable. As if her cracks are now part of her design. And no matter how much I want to deny it…”

His gaze drifted toward the corner of his desk, where the brooch had once rested.

He remembered it vividly—how she had held it at the end, like a trophy or perhaps a burden .
That small symbol of his territory , his domain , now lay beyond his reach.

“…this is no longer just a game.”

The Medical Appointment

The next day, after work, Beatriz arrived punctually at Doctor Kael’s clinic , holding a small wooden box in her hands. Inside were honey pearls with propolis , prepared especially for him. A simple gesture, yes—but a meaningful one. A token of gratitude and support , knowing that Kael was still dealing with a lingering cough .

The waiting room was as tidy and welcoming as always, with soft instrumental music creating a peaceful atmosphere. Beatriz took a deep breath before the consultation door opened and Kael greeted her with his usual gentle tone.

— Beatriz , come in.

She stepped inside and, after sitting across from him, handed over the box with a faint smile.

— What’s this? — Kael asked, raising an eyebrow with curiosity.

— Just a little something, — Beatriz replied.
— They’re honey pearls with propolis. I made them for your cough. Thought they might help.

Kael opened the box carefully, revealing the tiny golden spheres that gave off a sweet, subtle aroma. A sincere smile spread across his face.

— This is... very thoughtful of you, Beatriz. Thank you. But you didn’t have to.

— It’s no trouble at all, —she answered truthfully.
— You do so much for others. I figured you deserved a little care in return, even something small.

Kael nodded, placing the box gently to the side while giving her a look filled with both gratitude and professional restraint .

— I appreciate it very much. Now, let’s move on to what matters. How have you been feeling lately?

Beatriz responded with a summary of her recent days, tactfully omitting anything related to her missions . As always, Kael listened intently before picking up his stethoscope and placing it gently on her chest to examine her heartbeat.

— Your heartbeat is steady, which is good, —he said after a moment.
— But... I can’t help but sense something else. You seem to be carrying more weight than you should—emotionally speaking.

Beatriz tensed slightly, but kept a composed expression.

— It’s just stress. Work stuff. Nothing serious.

Kael studied her for a moment longer, as if he wanted to press further—but ultimately chose not to.

— Well, health-wise, everything looks good. But remember, if you ever need support, I’m here.

She nodded, grateful for his genuine concern .

As the appointment was wrapping up, Kael glanced through a few papers on his desk before lifting his gaze again, this time with a small, almost shy smile.

— By the way, a few weeks from now I’ll be receiving an award at a ceremony. It’s for one of my cardiology research projects. There will be a concert beforehand, and I thought... maybe you’d enjoy attending.

Beatriz blinked in surprise. She hadn’t expected an invitation like that. And while she couldn’t commit right away, she didn’t want to seem indifferent either.

— That sounds amazing. If my schedule allows it, I’d love to.

As she exited the consultation room, leaving the now-empty box in the doctor’s hands, Beatriz reflected on how far she had come.
The honey pearls had been a small gesture , but a reminder that even the simplest acts of care could carry deep meaning.

With the mention of the concert and the ceremony , her mind began to spin with possibilities. She’d need to find the right dress —maybe even sew it herself. A small challenge, perhaps, but also a chance to reclaim a fragment of normalcy in her otherwise chaotic life.

With a faint smile, she promised herself she’d think more about it later.
For now, the echo of Kael’s words and the sweet scent of honey and propolis lingered in her memory like a quiet, lingering melody.

Precise Measurements, Imprecise Reactions

Beatriz walked through the shopping plaza with a pencil in hand and her sketchbook tucked under one arm. She carefully examined the storefront displays, analyzing the futuristic designs and exorbitant prices . Fashion in this world wasn’t exactly her style. The dresses were either too short or too tight, and her mind kept comparing them to what she knew back in Mexico , where the clothes were well-made and affordable—though local designers rarely got the recognition they deserved.

After stepping in and out of several stores, frustrated by both the cost and the aesthetic, Beatriz finally found inspiration in one particularly elegant—if impractical—dress. She quickly sketched it in her notebook, adapting it to her own values and taste .

“If I can’t buy it, I’ll just make it myself,”
she thought, already planning to search for fabrics and materials in another district.

As she headed for the exit, still lost in her thoughts, a masculine voice interrupted her.

— Hey, miss, looking for something?
It was one of Lucien’s bodyguards , Noctis and Umbra , standing by the entrance of an exclusive boutique.

Beatriz felt a shiver of anticipation run down her spine when the man added:

— Mr. Lucien has reserved the entire floor, — Umbra said with a hint of pride, clearly impressed by his boss’s power.

She couldn’t help but tense up, immediately suspecting that this was one of those moments straight out of the video game.

“No way. This is a scripted event, isn’t it?”
she thought, forcing herself to keep a composed face.

And there he was.
Lucien, waiting for her with a mischievous smile, leaning casually against the boutique’s sleek frame.

— Beatriz, what a surprise seeing you here. I happen to need some help. Mind giving me a hand?

Beatriz stared at him, equal parts resigned and annoyed.
Inside, she was screaming:

“Son of a—”
But outwardly, she forced a polite smile.

— Sure, Lucien. What do you need?

He straightened up with theatrical grace.

— I want you to take my measurements for a new suit. I need something… special for my next appearance.

Beatriz raised an eyebrow.

Really? This is what you’ve got for me?
But if she was going to do this, she would do it right.

— Alright. But we’re doing this properly. No leaning on furniture, no drama.
—She said as they walked into the boutique.
— I need precision.

Lucien looked amused, but followed her instructions. He removed his sweater and stood up straight. Even when she used the old trick of sliding a finger down his spine to correct his posture, he only gave a soft gasp of surprise before chuckling quietly.

— You’ve got a firm touch, Beatriz.

— Just doing my job, —she replied neutrally, deliberately ignoring his playful tone.

She took each measurement meticulously —chest ( 109 cm ), abdomen ( 93 cm ), hips ( 85 cm ), legs, neck—even asking his consent before measuring the inseam , maintaining strict professionalism despite the smirk Lucien couldn’t seem to wipe off his face.

When she finished, she showed him the diagram she had drawn, with all the numbers noted down.

— This is the original—for the tailor. But I need a photo for my records. Do you mind?

— Go ahead, — Lucien said, leaning in to look at the sketch.
— You’re quite talented at this.

Beatriz ignored the compliment, took the photo, and handed him the paper.
Meanwhile, Lucien turned to a rack with two suit jackets hanging side by side.

— Red or blue? Which one suits me better?

Beatriz sighed, too tired to entertain the game.

— Red. Matches your eyes.

Lucien raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by her bluntness, but before he could say anything else, Beatriz was already closing her notebook.

— I think you’ve got everything you need. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got fabric to find.

As Beatriz left the boutique, she felt a mixture of relief and frustration.
But as she descended the escalators of the shopping mall, she couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips.
Lucien could be exasperating, but at least… the moment had been interesting.

Lucien remained on the upper floor, watching as Beatriz disappeared down the escalator with confident strides. Her slender yet steady figure melted into the crowd, her dark hair catching the white lights overhead. He had expected an amusing encounter—but this had far exceeded his expectations.

Beatriz going down the escalator:
“This wasn’t part of my plan… but damn, that was interesting.”

Lucien watching from above:
“And then she walked away, measuring more than just my suit.”

Adjusting the cuffs of his shirt, Lucien could still feel the faint trace of Beatriz’s touch on his lower back—a gesture as professional as it was unexpectedly impactful.
Her unwavering focus, the clarity of her instructions, and her refusal to play into his games had left him… a little disarmed.

— So she doesn’t get intimidated, —he murmured to himself, tone tinged with feline curiosity.

He turned toward the large glass windows offering a clear view of the lower level. From there, he could see her exit through the main doors, clutching her notebook to her chest like a shield .

Far from feeling annoyed by how she had handled him, Lucien found himself smiling.
It wasn’t often someone put him in his place so naturally. Most people either tried to please him or impress him.
But Beatriz ? She simply did what she believed was right, regardless of his position.

— A whirlwind. That’s what she is, —he said, crossing his arms as he leaned against the window frame.
— She shows up, disarms me, and vanishes like it was nothing.

One of his bodyguards, Noctis , who had remained nearby during the encounter, cleared his throat discreetly.

— All good, sir? —asked Noctis .

Lucien turned his head slightly, still watching the mall’s exit.

— Yeah. All good. Just… more interesting than I expected.

Noctis and Umbra exchanged a look, already used to their boss’s cryptic responses. They didn’t press further.

Lucien finally stepped away from the window, picked up the red jacket , and slung it over his shoulder.

— I wonder what else that whirlwind is hiding inside, —he murmured with a half-smile as he walked toward the elevator, already thinking about how fate seemed determined to cross their paths again and again.