You can sleep in my room

At last Valerian rises from his position at the piano, brushing off his suit and flexing his wings that have clearly been stiffened from sitting too long. Judging by the fine line of muscles that weave their way under his skin, I would hazard a guess that Valerian certainly doesn't enjoy staying inactive for long periods of time. Either that or he is anticipating some sort of fight 24/7 and has trained himself to be in peak physical condition to counteract any measures made on his immortal life. Frankly, I don't know which is worse.

He hazards a glance outside the window, narrowing his eyes at the darkness that pours in, and sighs, running a hand through his blacky blue hair. Puzzling a look at him, I follow his gaze.

"It's getting late for you, chérie, and I think after your little episode you could do with some rest," Valerian points out, indicating with a slight dip of his head to the curtained window on the other side of the room. Indeed, what I find there is not to my satisfaction.

Wincing, I notice with a pang of guilt that the light outside- wherever we are in the Downside- has faded to a dull and bloody orange, seeping through the cracks in the curtains and dousing the whole room in a fiery golden hue. Back in the Upper Realm it was daytime when I left, late morning at best, and the sun was only just beginning to take its toll on the land in its destined course across the sky. If day and night cycles work in any similarity down here than to in the Upper Realm, then it would be a safe assessment to make in saying that it is almost definitely bedtime by my mother's standards. Not that I had ever followed those regulations.

Briefly, I spare a thought to Alastor, a twinge of worry panging in my heart as I wonder where he is, what he is up too. Hopefully the situation with my marriage- not to mention the kiss him and I shared, didn't go down too awfully with the Vriryn court. Perhaps they will have all washed over the matter, rejoiced and have thrown a party upon my leaving, so that I might never have to come back up there again.

But the thought seems unlikely. I just pray that my mother isn't pining for the blood in Alastor's throat just yet. Or mine for that matter.

Hopefully sometime soon I can bring him down here with me. At least then I will have a friend.

"Alright," I relent, sitting up at last, not really keen to go to sleep, but having no real excuse to deploy either. Narrowly, I glance at the purple fuzzy creatures still clutched in my hands, wriggling and squirming like little overexcited puppies with the newfound joy of life and love, squeaking and yapping with little wet tongues and bright pink noses.

Popping them down on the couch, I brush myself off quickly. A surprising amount of purple fluff settles on the floor after my thorough dusting off, the stray feather, and dust, settling on the floor below me in a messy pile.

Nervously, I give Valerian a guilty look, but he waves it off. Apparently the Devil doesn't have much regard to mess.

"Uh, where do I sleep then? I mean I don't mind sleeping on the couch. I have had worse- my mother made me sleep on the floor once. For punishment."

To this the Devil raises his eyebrows in silent question, a dark light shivering across his eyes before he stretches himself out once more, shooing away the little fuzzy creatures as he makes his way over to me. The look that is etched into his features is enough to imply he has a fair few questions about my previous statement- at least questions he cannot answer by plucking the answers from my mind, but he does not ask into it, merely contented to perch by me, offering out a hand.

"You know, I really hate your mother," he says, lightly enough to seemingly imply nothing, but I have learnt to know better. There is a look on his face that is bent otherwise, his canines flashing in the slowly dying orange parlour of the room, his lilac eyes fading light to a cold, unfeeling darkness. This is the look of a man who could flatten the Upper Realm three times over without breaking a sweat, a man who has lived for the past thousands of years ruling a kingdom of demons in solitude, the look of a man who would risk his life to save a girl who simply needed his help.

I suppose I wouldn't be the first one. So taking his hand, I wave off that dark look, smiling warmly.

"You and me both," I grin, taking his other hand now as I quickly- very quickly before I can regret it, embrace him in a hug.

"Thank you- for saving me that is."

Then before he can say anything at all, I pull away, straightening my collar in a failed attempt to regain some composure.

"But anyway, that doesn't answer my question- where am I sleeping?"

Gently, Valerian pulls me up with him, an exasperated yet slightly humoured expression playing in the corner of his mouth. There is a faint flush that plays on his cheeks, glowing in the amber hues of the light. He looks handsome- very handsome- the type of beauty that any maiden from a fairy tale would find herself falling head over heels for in five seconds flat.

So just for a moment, I find myself captivated, unable to look away. It is only when Valerian brushes his hand against my arm that I am jolted to reality, drawn from a daze of thoughts and memories that aren't my own.

"Well, for a start, I absolutely cannot let my newly arrived member of my court sleep on the couch, that would be blasphemous," he chuckles, his hand tightening over my own as he draws me close to his body, his arms steadying me against him to prevent me from causing any more damage to myself than I already have. Ordinarily I might have flipped out if someone had touched me in such a manner, but given my tendency to be reckless, I don't entirely blame him for doing so.

A tantalising scent of lilies drifts off his skin, faint enough to be pleasant, but strong enough to fill my head with wondrous thoughts of flower fields and freedom, of traipsing through darkened forests in search of the folk late on a midsummers night with Alastor by my side. That memory is mine. Not hers.

"So," I repeat slowly, facing away to hide the redness of my cheeks upon the sudden realisation of how close we were getting. "Where then?"

Slowly- since I am unsteady on my feet, he brings an arm round to support me, leading me off into an adjacent room that opens up next to the window in a series of winding steps flowing upwards.

"To my room," he says simply, and then when I give him a strangled noise of protest, adds swiftly: "No, don't worry, I will not be sleeping with you."

But proceeds to offer me a wink anyway.

The climb looks dizzying to say the least, towering up like branches spiralling towards the sky in a twisted array of steep steps- an impossible climb for someone as drunk as I once was, so for a moment I waver there, all my life decisions crashing onto me at once.

But before I can even think about taking the first step, Valerian's arms tighten around me.

"Elowyn, chérie?" he says quietly, bringing himself low to me, so that his voice reaches beside my ear. Shivering and suddenly feeling woozy, I tilt my head to the side in silent indication of my acknowledgment.

"Mm?" I reply drearily, all at once feeling light-headed at the sight of the steps before me. His hands tighten further, almost protective in their stance, yet cautious in their placement, as if worried to place his hands on me altogether. From someone so fraudulent as the Devil, famed with an act of debauchery, one might expect him to be more brazen with his touch, as I would imagine Tarquin might be: to place his hands in promiscuous places and act on the seductive appeal of love and romance.

Yet altogether he has seemed rather well put together, respectable almost- aside from the odd flirtatious remarks here and there.

Then his wings brush against my legs, his tail tickling the lower half of my calf and am once again reminded of his heritage- an angel, not a demon, and that no matter his time in hell and the years that have taken their toll on his immortality, the values in his heart remain unwavering.

"May I carry you up, Princess?"