chrysostema:
It would be a lie to say he didn’t look like enough like Asch that there was a painful twist in her chest, one she’d felt when he had died and her world became as delicate as porcelain. With enough time her heart had begun to heal despite that fateful night in Tataroo Valley. She’d learned and grown from her loss, her grief. Luke didn’t seem to notice the way her lips pursed for just a moment before his hair fell back into his face.
Its the way his words waver that really catches the princesses full attention, immediately the hardened royal facade falls away and eyes fill with concern. “Luke…?” Brows knit together in confusion, a hand tucking a stray lock of hair back behind her ear. “I don’t understand, what do you mean by that? You aren’t the one I traveled with back then….? But then who…” No, don’t get your hopes up, don’t get them up when you already know the answer. It couldn’t be him.
She pushed her chair back ignoring the way her heart was seized by hopeful nerves, moving around the table and leaning down before him to get a closer look at his face. “Who…who are you then?”
He saw it there, the hope. The plea that he could actually be the other one, the original who she loved so dearly. It was awful, the way she looked at him, the way she came close to him and demanded an answer. Instinctively, Luke pulled away, turning his head from her, ashamed that he could not be who she so desperately hoped he could be. “I’m not him either,” he said quickly, squeezing his eyes shut, his hands moving to grip the sides of his chair. “I’m not Asch.” Though he wanted to be, to be either one of them instead of himself, then everyone could at least be half happy.
Slowly, he relaxed his grip, knuckles having turned white, and found his hands were shaking harder than they had been before. His eyes opened, coming back into focus as he turned to the princess once more. He looked sad, ashamed, and he was. He would never be who anyone wanted, who they’d prayed would return. All he was was Lorelei’s sick joke, a knife in the hearts of anyone who knew the men who made him.
“Lorelei,” Luke started, his voice coming out quiet and shaky, “... Lorelei couldn’t bring them both back... So she made me from them. I am them. But I... I’m not them...” How was he supposed to... explain this? It made sense to him, as much as he hated it, but to voice it and tell someone else... How was he to do that?
“I’m... I’m sorry, I... I lied to you all, I’m not...” His tongue seemed to be caught, a leaden weight in his mouth. Looking into Natalia’s hazel eyes; ones that had the hope dashed right out of them, that belonged to the woman who had cared for the other Luke and who loved Asch, he felt nothing but shame. “... I wanted to be them. I wanted to be them for everyone,” he said softly, lowering his gaze again. “I tried to. But I’m...” A sad chuckle came from his throat as his hands turned palm upwards in his lap, still shaking from the anxiety. “... I’m just a fake.”
