Lutteo one shots

Luna Enchanted

So I rewatched "Ella Enchanted" the other day and since I apparently have an OTP pattern since my childhood (and needed to take a break from writing on my other projects), I decided to type down a little Lutteo version of two scenes from the movie! If this is trash, it's probably because I wrote this super late at night ^^

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The flames danced in front of his eyes. Prince Matteo leaned against the wall right next to the chimney, but the warmth in his chest didn't come from the crackling fire.

No, that kind of warmth derived from his thoughts, his memories. From remembering a kind smile, lighting up the prettiest set of crystal-clear green eyes he had ever seen, and the knowledge it revealed a heart of gold.

He couldn't believe he met someone like Luna, never even imagined someone like her would walk this earth, yet alone his kingdom. She embodied the wife by his side he hadn't understood he needed or wanted. Her courage, her wit, her kindness – everything he had learned about her pulled him closer into her orbit. Their first meeting gave away that she simply wasn't a person to forget quickly, perhaps gave it away earlier than he figured, and every encounter afterwards only strengthened the bond he felt towards her.

A bond so strong he decided to marry her.

Sure, his uncle held his own opinions about Matteo's intentions. A common girl, never introduced to the court, and with the distinctive habit of taking some comments a bit too literally - not his first picture of the ideal wife for the future king.

But Matteo found himself uncapable to care. He loved Luna. Loved her truly. She already made him a better king for his people, and clearly his uncle would come to realize that, and then he'd congratulate him on his luck.

Until then, he could live with the disapproving glares he received.

His eyes darted back to the ring in his hand. Diamond, simple but worthy of what he hoped to be his queen. Now, if he only managed to lay out the perfect speech for his proposal... Should he write down a love declaration? Or just go with the words his heart dictated in that moment?

A servant hushing into the room interrupted his thoughts.

The complaint about the lack of respect and courtesy reached the tip of his tongue already when the young boy held out a letter, his hands shaking. Silently, he took it before he nodded towards the door. 'To Prince Matteo' it read, in a straight but neat handwriting.

He felt his cheeks heating up.

Dear Matteo,

Please believe that this is the hardest thing I ever had to do, and I can only hope you will understand. I am deeply thankful for everything you have done for me, and I feel honored to got to know you. But I cannot be with you, not ever. For reasons that have to remain a secret, I cannot give you an explanation, but please trust me, it is the best for both of us. I am in great faith that you will be a great king and bring peace over the kingdom, and I wish you nothing but the best.

Goodbye forever,

Luna

Once.

Twice.

He read it again. His gaze hurried over the lines, back and forth, over and over, like the words would change if only he stared long enough. But they didn't, they didn't change their meaning, didn't unbreak his heart. She couldn't be with him, she didn't want him, and he'd been planning to propose like an idiot without seeing she had no intentions of saying Yes.

But she kissed him.

It didn't matter. The kiss didn't matter, or it didn't matter enough. Whatever. He shook his head. Maybe he should focus on his coronation, on the ball celebrating his coming of age. On the ball where he would have offered her every dance, no matter the etiquette, where he would have taken her hand to lead her to the hidden garden, where he would have kneeled and...

He already knew she'd be stuck in his mind for much longer than she thought about him.

///

Luna had tried to kill him.

He proposed to her, thinking it'd be the happiest moment of his life, and she tried to kill him. He couldn't believe it, didn't want to, but the proof in form of a dagger laid on the ground in front of him. The blade glistened between fallen pedals and scattered leaves, mocked him and his foolish belief that she did love him, and he still struggled to get a hold on reality.

Luna fell to his feet. Her breaths came hard and quick, she gasped for air, muttered, though he failed to understand a single word. Failed to understand anything.

She tried to kill him.

Thinking it didn't help to make it feel any more real. What about the kiss? Her encouragements, her almost-compliment? What about dancing with her, feeling her hands in his? And the letter? It made no sense, no, there had to be an explanation, something that didn't involve any heart-crushing letter or murder weapon.

(But honestly, he'd rather receive a hundred more of these letters than to see her in his embrace, holding a dagger to his back.)

"Guards!" His uncle, behind him. Next to him. "Take her away!"

Luna begged. Promised, swore she could explain, pleading him to listen to her. But the guards dragged her away, and he let them, because words failed him, and he wanted to believe she was innocent but the sight of her about to stab him burned itself into his mind. The hope he had found thanks to her melted in his hands now, the world he had imagined building with her crumbled into ashes. The letter he had forgiven her the moment he spotted her at the ball, but a dagger?

A dagger couldn't be forgiven even with the most confiding of hearts.

///

When Matteo rested his head on the pillow, he felt not any better than when he saw Luna being locked away. He wondered how she felt, sitting in a dungeon cell, if just an ounce of guilt flew through her veins. His uncle denied her any compassion, insisting she belonged to a group of commoners revolting against the crown, and that their encounters had been staged. Every single one.

But really every single one? Matteo struggled to believe that. That kiss back at the wedding had been magical, had lend him wings and had taken him to heights he never dared to dream of. And she'd been so sweet and honest – could someone as rotten as a murderer keep up such a mask?

Matteo didn't know.

As sleep reached out its hand to him, he only knew that he still wanted her to love him.