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exquisitley-obsessed · 2 years

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Fiances, Firebirds, Foxes & Fawns: 18

Author: @exquisitley-obsessed

Summary: A few weeks after Briallyn’s attempt at uniting with Koschei, Lucien opens the door of Lockhart Manor to find Elain, cold from the rain and holding a note from the High Lady of the Night Court demanding her to assist Lucien in building alliances with the human councils. Forced to work together by their exhausted High Lord and Lady, Elain is able to convince anyone to do anything, while Lucien has the acquaintances to go anywhere he likes. Together, they attempt to unite the fae and mortal lands and unravel the deal made between Koschei and Vassa, while Lucien remains haunted by his own promise to Elain’s father. ELUCIEN, POST-ACOSF

Pairings: Elucien, Elain x Lucien

Warnings: mentions of sexual assault/rape

THIS FIC’S MASTERIST

MY MASTERLIST

AO3

Chapter Eighteen: Daia Honey Blossom

Lord Lucien Vanserra,

We are writing to implore you to make haste in your journey to Autumn. We cannot impart any further information on the matters though we must stress the importance of your presence as a Son of Autumn. We understand there may be some confusion of your required attendance due to your exiled status, we can confirm that this has been temporarily rescinded and you will be welcomed in Autumn as any other guest would.

We won’t warn you again.

~Autumn High Regency~

***

Elain had been in a sullen mood all day, that much Lucien was sure. Despite all their talks of moving out Spring and heading to Autumn – a plan which Lucien was still not yet sure he was confident in – Elain was unreachable. Her eyes glazed over and her mind somewhere far, far away.

At that moment she was finishing up in the garden with Nuala, the two of them working in silence as they dug elbow deep into the earth. Lucien was taking a moment to simply watch, during which he was trying to reassure himself that it was totally not creepy. He just wanted to know that she was safe, even if she couldn’t be okay.

“So, you’re leaving,” Tamlin hummed from behind, the maps they’d been pouring over minutes ago long forgotten.

“I have no choice.”

But he did have a choice on whether or not he brought Elain. Elain, in the Autumn Court – every cell of his body protested. How dare he bring someone so special to such a ruined land, and yet, no one would dare lay a finger on Elain, not when her sister was High Lady of the Night Court. They’d have to keep news of her title renunciation quiet.

“I don’t know why,” Tamlin came and stood next to Lucien at the window, holding out a glass of fae-whiskey, “but I keep waiting for the day where you come back and stay, permanently.”

“I struggle to see that happening any time soon.”

“Oh don’t worry, I know,” Tamlin grinned that same old grin and Lucien was hit with a wave of nostalgia. There was some traitorous part of Lucien that he couldn’t shake, some part that just wished to crawl back to the days when there was a mask on his face. The days when he could bury his head in the sand.

“It’s just a nice dream,” Tamlin continued, “The idea that we could go back to the past instead of just leaving it behind.”

“I’ll always be around to visit.”

“Yes…you and your mate. Mother…who’d have thought this day would ever come.”

Lucien grinned into his glass, “She’s not my mate yet, not officially.”

“Oh screw ‘officially’. She’s your destiny whether she ignores it or not.”

Lucien didn’t want to talk about Elain. He’d much rather talk to Elain, and he really didn’t wish to talk about her to Tamlin.

Ever since leaving the mortal lands, Lucien felt as though he could barely find a moment alone with his mate. It’s funny, before Elain had ever come to Lockhart Manor it seemed that all there was time, and he was drowning in hours upon hours of unencumbered space. Suffocating on all the distance that lay between him and his destiny. And now that she was here, Lucien was suffocating on everything that wasn’t Elain. So many pointless conversations, futile missions, all of it distracting him from his true desires, filling up his precious time, intruding on all the possibilities that lay between him and her.

Just an hour alone. Truly alone. With no talk of the future, present or past. No talk of going to Autumn, her sisters or her ex-fiancé. Just an hour of her, an hour of talking about nothing at all.

“Are you listening?”

Lucien tore his eyes away from the window. “No.”

Tamlin rolled his eyes, “Obviously. I was telling you to be careful in Autumn, and to remember that should you need an escape for any reason you know the pathway between Spring and Autumn – it would do you well to not forget it.”

“Please, that particular path is pretty engraved in my memory.” Images of snapping dogs, white as snow. The vibrance of Autumn fading as they got closer to the border. His brother's blood soaking his shoes.

“I suspected as much,” Tamlin moved back to the desk scattered with maps, promises of new trade routes between Spring and the mortal lands – a possible future that didn’t seem quite real.

Looking at his friend Lucien couldn’t help but momentarily forget all the bitterness that lay between them. Before him, he saw a man who was trying, not trying his hardest or his best, but was trying. He might be completely lost when it came to dealing with the rest of the fae lands but with humans, humans he just might be able to befriend.

“Lucien,” Tamlin snapped him out of his trance.

“Yup.”

Lucien looked up to find stones of emerald glaring back at him, piercing him to his core. “Be careful over there. Trust no one. Watch your back and stay light on your feet.”

Lucien nodded. Normally he would’ve thought the advice unnecessary, but he knew Tamlin meant every word. Then, strangely, Tamlin looked at him one last time and added.

“…and make sure you come home.”

It was all black. An endless void, the only change being the glimmering water that covered the smooth floor, a strange murky black itself.

It took a while before Elain’s eyes seemed to adjust to the vision, at first she thought she was merely looking at nothing, at the space between words, the breath between sentences, but then she saw her. In the distance, so still that at first Elain thought she was a statue of marble, but then she breathed, heaving on air as though it was her first breath in years.

Walking towards the girl, water sloshed around her feet, the girl still choking on her breaths. It didn’t take long before they were standing in front of one another, Elain catching the girls eye who peered back at her as though Elain were some kind of reflection.

It was her. The girl from Elain’s previous vision, with her translucent skin and violet hair. Except now she was so skinny, her bones pushing on her skin, threatening to tear through. Elain could see each breath moving through the tendons in her neck, and her eyes were no longer bright and full of colour, but a dull milky shade of white.

“You,” the girl whispered in awe, her eyes two saucers. “You came.”

Elain had nothing to say. She wished she knew her name.

“You’re real,” the young girl continued.

She was just a child, and yet it was clear she was suffering so much. Perhaps that’s what Elain had looked like all those years ago, dressed in rags and having not eaten a good meal in years.

“I’m like you,” the girl continued. “Special.”

“I’m not special,” Elain whispered back.

“Of course you are. We all are.”

Elain tilted her head, “Whose we?”

The girl copied Elain like a reflection, her long matted hair tumbling down one shoulder. “You don’t know yet.” A statement, not a question.

Elain sighed. “There are many things it seems that I do not know.”

“Yet,” the girl corrected, “In time it all will become clear. That’s what I learned, and when I realised the whole truth I was free, I was able to die in peace.”

Elain swallowed her tears. Why did death always seem to haunt the innocent? “Did you get to see your brothers and mother?”

The girl smiled sadly, such a mature expression for someone so young. “No, but that’s okay. They knew I loved them, and that I would’ve done anything to go back to them.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Do you want to hear my discovery? What I learned that meant I could die?”

Elain didn’t. “Okay.”

The girl smiled brightly before puffing out her chest and taking a deep breath, like an actor centre stage, about to begin. “I prophecui na – hen, nin fawn, nin lóth tui.”

The words rang around Elain’s head before battering her in her heart.

“Those words…”

The girl just nodded, still smiling. “I was so proud of myself when I cracked it.”

The pieces were falling together. The unfamiliar tongue, the young girl who was lesser fae, a stranger in the Court, a name turning over and over in Elain’s mind – Daia Honey Blossom. There was only one more question to ask. “What language is that?”

The girl grinned as though Elain had just offered her a slice of cake. “Clesstrati, of course…. I prophecui na – hen, nin fawn, nin lóth tui. I prophecui na – hen, nin fawn, nin lóth tui. I prophecui na – hen…”

The little girl sang the song as though it was a children’s song, turning so that her pale dress fanned out around her. She continued like that, melting in on herself like a candle until she was pooling across the floor, her white dress iridescent against the black water.

***

“Elain.”

Wherever Elain was, she was cold. But there were those warm, broad hands on her shoulders that were shaking her, trying to wake her up. It was him. Elain knew by now that it would always be him pulling her from that darkness.

Opening her eyes she found herself sitting on the floor of Lucien’s bathroom. Her legs sticking out from under her dress, the cool linoleum of the bath against her back.

“Another vision?” Lucien was concerned, kneeling beside her in a way that meant his hair tumbled free down his shoulder. Elain wanted to run her hands through it. She only nodded, tired from what she had seen.

Standing Lucien temporarily left her side to fill a glass with water. She almost protested.

“How many visions have you had recently?” He held the glass out towards her.

Elain didn’t respond, using the water as an excuse for her silence. The truth was she couldn’t remember, and that scared her.

“I know about the seer from Spring,” she offered instead.

“I asked Tamlin about that. He says the seer from Spring was a woman by the name of Daia Honey Blossom.”

“Not a woman,” was all she could say.

His brows furrowed. “Pardon?”

“Daia wasn’t a woman. She was a girl. A child.” Elain was up and moving, now more frantic after her vision. “I found her notebook when you were away, she just visited me in my vision.”

“Pardon?” Lucien repeated.

“There’s something important about that sentence, something that is paramount to whatever it is that’s going on. We need to get to Day Court; I need to look at those scrolls on Clesstrati.”

“Slow down,” Lucien implored, but Elain was up and moving now, pacing into the room with haste.

“I say we go to Autumn do whatever it is that is needed of us there and then go straight to Day, but we can’t dither anymore, I promised Vassa that I would return to her soon with good news.”

“Stop thinking about Vassa for two seconds,” Lucien sighed, and Elain felt a spark of anger ignite within. Did he not understand what they were onto? The scale of this discovery? They were so close; Elain could practically taste it.

Elain spun to her mate, her hands balling into fists at her sides. “I need to help her.”

“You need to help yourself.” Lucien looked semi-feral as he hissed at her. The sternness in his voice a stone to the head, blowing away the storm inside of her in one go.

It seemed now that she could see the world clearly, that the residual murkiness from the vision had finally evaporated. Now she could see, she could see that look on Lucien’s face in full.

She hated it. Hated the way he was looking at her.

“Please don’t look at me like that.”

Lucien didn’t move, didn’t even breathe. “Like what?”

“Like you pity me. I don’t want your pity.” Elain was whispering now, the quiet words filling the empty void around them, the silence only found in a desolated court.

That silence continued from her mate, and then, “I don’t pity you, Elain.”

“I struggle to believe that.” Elain sniffed. “Everyone does. That’s all anyone sees me as, this pathetic little girl, a whiny needy bitch-”

Lucien’s hands shot out, and now he was gripping onto Elain’s wrists as though he were drowning.

The movement stunned Elain but Lucien seemed unfazed by the sudden touch. All of a sudden Elain remembered that this touch paled in comparison to what they had done by the riverside only a week ago. That’s another terrible thing about her, the fact she was an uncaring slut-

“Stop,” Lucien gritted out.

Elain stared at him. “What?”

“Just stop,” her mate continued, something dark swirling in his gaze. “I can – hear – everything you’re thinking.”

Elain could only stare at him as he stared back. Great, now he was mad at her. Was he going to leave again? Leave as Feyre and Nesta had done? No, they didn’t leave, Elain pushed them away because she was a fool. A ridiculous, stupid fool-

Lucien was shaking his head.

“Mother, Elain, I’m not angry at you.” His voice was softer now, and so was his grip on her wrists. “I don’t know what this life has taught you so far but all of that…it’s wrong, it’s so ridiculously and hilariously wrong.”

Elain took a deep, shuddering breath. “You…you don’t know me.”

Lucien cocked his head, “It seems that no one knows you. Your sisters sure as hell don’t know you, the Inner Circle refuse to see you for what you’re worth. Tell me, Elain, do you know who you are?”

For some reason, his words seemed to light a fire within Elain. It was always like Lucien to do that, to speak without thinking, to never give a damn about the consequences of his words.

“I know who I am,” Elain tried to say sternly, but even she would hear that she sounded like a child.

“It’s okay to not know,” was all Lucien said in response and Elain felt like crying. “You’ve been through so much all of your life, it’s okay to have lost yourself along the way.”

More endless silence as a thousand protests rose on Elain’s tongue, but none of them came to fruition, they faded like evening light, disappearing as their futility became apparent. Here, in this pocket of Autumn in a ruined Court, there was no one but Lucien to hear Elain break down and offer a kernel of truth.

“What am I supposed to do?” She finally asked, “How do I make it better?”

“There is no making it better. This isn’t something that needs to be fixed.” Lucien’s fingers began drawing lazy circles on her inner wrist. “It’s a journey.”

Elain looked down; tan fingers wrapped around pale wrists. Fingertips brushing over her blue veins. Intimacy, at the cost of nothing.

“I don’t want to do this alone.”

Lucien bent low and pressed his lips against each of her palms, like some kind of religious ritual, the image reminded Elain of a priest at an altar.

“I will be there every step of the way.”

Elain wanted to make him promise that he would stay, but there was that look in his eye, the look of a man entirely sure in what he was saying. Besides, Elain knew somehow that her days of being alone were behind her. For now.

“I still can’t quite believe you’re back,” she whispered instead.

“Elain?”

“Yes.”

“I’m never leaving you again.”

Elain shut her eyes and tilted her head back as she felt the tears surge within her. It’d been too long since she’d heard those words, and even longer since she had believed them.

“You’re coming to Autumn with me.” A statement, not a question.

“Yes,” Elain vowed

“Good.” And then he was smiling again, and the sun was letting out one last watery wink before it disappeared till tomorrow. “I knew you’d not be enough of a fool to get in the way of my duty to protect you.”

And despite everything, she laughed a little.

The rest of the evening was spent packing their belongings with Nuala whilst Lucien prepared Elain for Autumn Court. Elain couldn’t even be scared about Autumn, she wasn’t even scared about her family any more, her sisters who now would not speak to her. Not when she was with Lucien and his smile was so bright.

All that evening she could only think of how he talked to her, not about her, but to her. Say what she might about Lucien Vanserra, about his disfunction, his informality and roughness, he was the only one who did not see her for how she might break.

#fffaf

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exquisitley-obsessed · 2 years

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THIS! This is exactly how I view both of them. Mid-sized Elain is everything!

After seeing her amazing Lucien portrait, I commissioned darihx to draw Elucien and she created the Elucien in the Day Court art of my dreams.

I love how Dariya depicts Lucien as a biracial man, and when I asked her to depict Elain as a curvy, mid-sized woman, she served absolute perfection. While admittedly mid-sized Elain is a headcanon, it's based on Nesta's description of a happier Elain in ACOSF as "softness and elegant curves" (201-202). I love the idea that when Elain reaches her happily-ever-after, she'll be gloriously curvy.

Per the artist's policies, please do not repost this piece! Shares and reblogs are encouraged, though, as is giving darihx a follow on Instagram 🧡

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exquisitley-obsessed · 2 years

Text

Fiancés, Firebirds, Foxes & Fawns:17

Author: @exquisitley-obsessed

Summary: A few weeks after Briallyn's attempt at uniting with Koschei, Lucien opens the door of Lockhart Manor to find Elain, cold from the rain and holding a note from the High Lady of the Night Court demanding her to assist Lucien in building alliances with the human councils. Forced to work together by their exhausted High Lord and Lady, Elain is able to convince anyone to do anything, while Lucien has the acquaintances to go anywhere he likes. Together, they attempt to unite the fae and mortal lands and unravel the deal made between Koschei and Vassa, while Lucien remains haunted by his own promise to Elain's father. ELUCIEN, POST-ACOSF

Pairings: Elucien, Elain x Lucien

Warnings: mentions of sexual assault/rape

THIS FIC’S MASTERIST

MY MASTERLIST

AO3

Chapter Seventeen: Seismic Shift

Two Days Ago

“…if that’s everything, I’d like to get back to Spring.”

Lucien was uncomfortable, though, he always was when in the Night Court. It had been a nice discovery, to find that the Court of Nightmares had been a façade and yet, even Lucien knew that he did not quite fit in in Velaris. If not by his personality and Autumnal tongue, then perhaps by the fact that he stood out like a tall, orange lamppost in the midst of all that Night Court black.

“I’m afraid I’m not quite done with you,” Rhysand, High Lord of Night, glowered at Lucien in the way that Lucien suspected he’d spent hours in front of the mirror perfecting.

“Oh?”

“Yes, I’m afraid I’ve received some new intel from our dear Shadowsinger, it appears-” Rhys flipped open the file resting on his desk, “-there are suspicions that Beron’s poisoning was an inside job, many suspect Eris of-”

Lucien scoffed.

“If you’ve got something to say, Fox-boy, then please, spit it out.” Rhys was glowering again, his eyes sparkling, full of secrets.

“Eris is perhaps the last person you should suspect.”

“Why? We all know he’s first in line for the throne, and the current political climate might make a quick assassination a lot easier to swallow.”

“Eris didn’t do it because he wouldn’t be so sloppy.” It still surprised Lucien how little Rhys and his court of spies really knew of his brother. “Eris, from my understanding, is already practically running the show. He’s the one who pulls all the strings, it’s a rather perfect little situation he’s got himself into, controlling everything without taking any of the blame. He’d be an idiot to do anything to mess up such a position, and whilst my brother is a lot of things, being stupid unfortunately isn’t one of them.”

Rhys stared at him for a long time. An uncomfortably long time.

“Basically what I’m trying to say is that your shadowsinger has shit sources.”

More staring.

“If that’ll be all…”

Rhys coughed and sat forward, snapping the file shut as he did so. “And how is it going?”

“How is what going?” Lucien sighed.

All he wanted, all he had ever wanted these past few days, was to go home.

Waking up to the news that his father had been poisoned hadn’t been the best way to start his week. It was all behind the scenes at that point and so he’d had to winnow across half the known world in order to attend a meeting in the Night Court of the Inner Circle – of which he was rather surprised to find that he was now a part of.

He’d spent half the time wondering why Rhys hadn’t asked Elain to come too (wasn’t she a part of the Inner Circle?) and the other half he was simply thinking of Elain for the sake of thinking of Elain.

Elain’s hair. Elain’s eyes. Elain’s kindness. Elain’s cunning.

It was then that Rhys had announced grandly that Lucien was then going to continue to travel across the other half of the known world in order to meet as many sources Rhys had in order to get as much information as possible, as well as attempting as best he could at getting in contact with his old family to scry for information.

He’s barely slept. Each night falling into a bed that was foreign and, most importantly, far, far away from his mate. It was there that despite a long day of talking to strange, difficult people, he would toss and turn, his body aware of the bond’s discomfort.

Most nights he’d taken himself in his hand if only to work out some of the tension that seemed to now be permanently constant. It was a physical kind of relief and barely scratched the surface of the ocean of want that lay under his skin – but it was something.

Now after a day of meetings in a Court he didn’t feel quite at home with a bunch of people who didn’t really feel much like a family, he was stuck with the ringleader who still, obviously, did not trust him.

“Elain,” Rhys said, pulling Lucien back. “I am rooting for you two, you know.”

“Please don’t tell me you’ve placed a bet on us,” Lucien had said it as a joke, but seeing the way Rhys shifted told him that he was better at reading the High Lord than he thought.

“Not just for that. If you hadn’t noticed, I’m rather fond of the mating bond.” He had that sly grin on his face he always got whenever he found an opportunity to drag Feyre into the conversation.

“That’s funny,” Lucien could never stop that damn tongue of his, “I’d thought given your parents, you’d understand that not all mating bonds are optimal.”

Rhys’ face hardened. “I’m not even going to bother with questioning you on how you know that, instead, I’m more than happy to point out how from the minute you’ve stepped foot in Night your thoughts have only been about one person – that doesn’t sound much like my parents.” Lucien’s jaw hardened. He didn’t like Rhys in his head. He didn’t like anyone rooting around in that abyss. “Besides. It’s not hard to know what you do at night.”

It took a moment for Rhys’ insinuation to settle. For that invasion of privacy to become clear.

“Rhys, if you fancy me-”

“-quiet.” Rhys was rolling his eyes as he stood, his hands digging deep in his pockets.

Lucien liked to remind Rhys that they weren’t close. That even if by an extension of the mating bond they were technically family, they were not close. Behind them lay centuries of a common dislike that had only recently been breached. It was nice to remind such a powerful High Lord that Lucien wasn’t Cassian or Azriel, he wouldn’t roll over on his back for the princeling.

For some reason, keeping Rhysand at arm’s length felt like the best thing to do.

“We’re coming down to Spring soon,” Rhys continued, back to business. “Feyre and Nesta said they wanted to speak to Elain.”

“About what?” Rhys merely stared at him. “Oh.”

Oh…That.

“Feyre’s coming to Spring?” Lucien asked instead, steering the conversation away from the elephant in the room. He’d have to process the fact that he’s inadvertently told both Rhysand and Cassian of Elain’s rape later – nothing stays a secret in an accepted mating bond.

“We’re hoping to meet Elain on the border, far away from the Manor. I hope that next time you come into contact with the High Lord of Spring you will inform him of this and persuade him that it would be in his best interest to stay far away whilst we are on his grounds.”

“Bold of you to order around another High Lord.”

Rhys tiled his head, “If you can still call him that.”

For some reason, the insult agitated Lucien. He knew better than anyone that Tamlin was not innocent, he had more than enough blood on his hands, but it was Elain’s voice that rang around in his head.

What kind of world would that mean we’re living in? Where simple kindness is praised like some kind of miracle?

Tamlin deserved a chance to heal, not just himself but the wounds he inflicted. That couldn’t happen until those he had wronged gave him that opportunity, as Elain had done.

God, he missed Elain.

Sighing, he tried once more. “If that’ll be all-”

“No, it’s not, I’m afraid I need you to go to Summer and talk to Tarquin. Azriel will send you a briefing letter explaining what Tarquin can and can’t understand but I need you to settle his nerves.”

Lucien bit back his annoyance. As much as he was grateful for Rhys’ help over the years, there were times in which he really struggled with being bossed around by him. “Is Tarquin worried he’s going to be targeted?”

“It seems that all High Lords are a bit on edge.”

Lucien chuckled. “I don’t know why. If any High Lord was going to be poisoned it would be Beron, everyone knows of his cruelness.”

“You would think,” Rhys sighed, walking Lucien through the office in his River Manor.

“That’s him though, isn’t it. Dear old dad,” Lucien sighed to himself more than anyone. Strangely, the little sentence seemed to make something stiffen in Rhys’ shoulders as he dug his hands deeper in his pockets.

It had been Eris who had taught Lucien how to be fluent in body language, showing him how much people truly gave away by the way they held themselves, and Rhysand had just told him a whole lot.

As Lucien made his way out of the High Lord’s Manor, nodding to Feyre and winking at Nyx as he passed, he could only think about one thing – Rhysand was keeping a secret.

“Stop what?” Nuala grinned back like a Cheshire cat.

“Smiling like that. It’s unnerving.”

“I wasn’t aware I was smiling, Lady,” Nuala’s grin only seemed to widen. “It’s just awfully funny to come looking for you this morning and to find you…here.”

Here being Lucien’s bedroom where Elain was engulfed in his sheets and sleeping like a newborn babe.

“Lucien offered-”

“-I’m sure he did-”

“-Nuala!” Elain bowed her head to hide her flushing cheeks. There was still a Lady in her after all.

“What?” Nuala chuckled, taming the other side of Elain’s hair, “Do you not think that some part of all this is just to satisfy his male pride?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Elain looked away though there was nothing that could wipe away the smile she’d been wearing since this morning.

Waking up in Lucien’s bed had confirmed two things. One, Lucien had come back last night and demanded that she sleep in his room and was entirely a gentleman about it. Two, Elain was quite ridiculously, exceedingly euphoric at Lucien being back under the same roof.

Elain dressed for the day, not taking for granted how nice it was to once more be in a room with a working bathroom and a wardrobe. It meant that she would wear one of her nicer gowns, a simple white gown that dropped on her shoulders, full-sleeved with a floral corset.

She definitely was not dressing to impress a certain someone. Definitely not.

Practically bouncing down the stairs, walking into the dining room it felt like the temperature had dropped ten degrees.

Whatever Tamlin and Lucien had been talking about before Elain had walked in, hadn’t been pleasant. Tamlin looked about ready to launch himself over the firepit at Lucien, claws having punched through his knuckles. Lucien, in turn, looked to be swirling in shadows, steely and dark, poised like a drawn knife. There was something bitter and resolute glinting in his eye, something that sent a shiver down Elain’s spine.

“Boys,” Elain said softly after several moments, her eyes still bouncing between the two.

Her presence appeared to make no difference to the silent standoff that was going on in front of her.

“’Lainy,” Lucien’s rough, gravelly voice seemed to rumble right through her, the endearing nickname making her knees weak. “I’d change your shoes into something more durable, we’ll be taking a trip to the border this morning…as I was just informing Tamlin.”

The High Lord seemed to be wheezing like a bull.

Elain wanted to ask but decided to treat herself by turning around and walking right back out.

***

“You want to explain what that was about?”

Lucien and Elain were killing time at Spring’s borders.

Lucien turned and leaned against a fence at the edge of a field, his knee coming up as he made the image of perfect confidence. “We were just having a chat about the room in which he elected to place you in.

Elain spun to him, “Lucien.”

“What?” He grinned like a child caught being naughty.

“I told you not to make a big deal out of that!”

“Yeah, I heard you and I didn’t make a big deal out of it, if it was a big deal then I would’ve singed his eyebrows off-” Elain slapped him on the shoulder “-kidding!”

Elain could only stare and stare at her mate until her cheeks ached too much from holding in her smile. Though she’d never admit it, it was nice having someone who was happy to say the things she was all too afraid to come out with.

“I was also telling Tamlin that Rhysand, Feyre and Nesta were coming to speak to us at the border which, didn’t go down too greatly.”

Elain only hummed in response. Lucien had already explained that her sisters and brother-in-law were coming to Spring, for what she could only guess, she only hoped that she wasn’t in any kind of trouble. It was strange to expect punishment, but life had been so wonderful recently, she couldn’t help but be constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It wasn’t long before the Night Court trio appeared out of thin air. Feyre and Nesta rushed forward to embrace their sister whilst Rhysand strolled more casually to Lucien and, to Lucien’s surprise, clapped him on the back as though they were old friends.

“It’s so good to see you,” Feyre gushed, her eyes sparkling like stars as she smiled.

“You too!” Elain couldn’t help but giggle. It really had been too long since she’d seen her family. But at the same time, that low-level anxiety remained in her gut – why were they here? There was no way her sister had come all the way to Spring Court of all places just for a catch-up.

As though sensing her suspicion Feyre linked her arm through Nesta and Elain’s.

“Let’s go for a walk.”

***

At Spring’s borders lay mostly fields and yet the closer you got to the wall you entered a thicket of trees. It didn’t take long for Elain to realise that this thicket of trees used to run right through the wall and that if they walked for long enough, they might just stumble their way back onto their old, dire cottage.

Elain didn’t think she could handle that right now.

Eventually, the small group came out to a small clearing, only a few metres wide. Thus far they had, surprisingly, been walking in silence. Elain couldn’t take it any longer.

“So,” she did her best to seem chirpy, “Why are you here?”

Nesta scoffed, “Can’t we just come to visit our dear old sis?”

“Of course you can,” Elain beamed, “But with the current state of the world and when your sisters are a High Lady and Leader of the Valkyries, a letter works just fine.”

Nesta and Feyre shared a look. When Elain had expected humour at her little joke, she was met with tense silence. Oh dear, she knew they couldn’t be here for a good reason, but that just confirmed it.

“Elain, um,” Feyre shifted on her feet and Elain’s hackles raised. “We came to talk to you about Graysen.”

Elain’s stomach dropped. “What?”

“It’s nothing to worry about-”

“-has something happened?”

“No,” Feyre concluded, her motherly side coming out, “Me and Nesta are just concerned about something that may have happened in the past.”

This only seemed to confuse Elain more. “The past?”

“Yes…” another glance between her sisters. What did they know that she didn’t? “We want to talk about the night you and Graysen went to the barn?”

Cold. The world turned cold. It was like the floor had been pulled out from beneath her.

“What…Why do you want to talk about that?” Elain felt hot and cold. Exposed and ashamed.

Another look between sisters. “We want to know, well, we want to inform you that we…”

“We don’t think what happened that night was a good thing.” Nesta took over from Feyre’s rambling.

Elain could only stare at them. Again, she wished to ask them why on Earth they were asking her about this. Instead, she asked, “Why are you asking me about this?”

“Well, as your sisters-”

“-this is an entirely unnecessary conversation.” Elain couldn’t help but clip out sternly, her arms folding across her chest.

Feyre and Nesta only stared at her long and hard before, “You…know?”

“What do you mean ‘I know?’ – I’m the one it happened to,” Elain stared wide-eyed at her sisters. “Do you…do you really think I’m so incompetent that I wouldn’t even realise that he took advantage of me?”

“Well if you knew then…” Nesta paused, her confusion evident. “You just…” she tried again, “You seemed so in love with him?”

Elain could only stare at her older sister; the ugliness of the situation was becoming blatantly obvious. Something within Elain that had long been dormant was rearing its head.

“Do you not think it possible to love someone, even if they have hurt you?”

Elain wished she hadn’t asked because some part of her knew Nesta’s answer already. Nesta, smart, cunning, sharp Nesta would speak to Elain as their mother would. Nesta would tell her that it would be an embarrassment to let someone who had hurt you remain close, that it was something only foolish, lovesick girls do. That to be a woman is to know your worth, and to choose your company accordingly.

Nesta had said none of this aloud, perhaps as she realised it would be simply to mean to get away with, and she was such a changed woman now after Cassian. But Elain practically saw the thoughts racing through her sisters head, she could almost hear her mother whispering the vitriol into her ear.

“Elain we’re just surprised because you…well, you never told us,” Nesta began again.

“Maybe because I didn’t want to. Is that really so inconceivable?”

“No, not just that,” Nesta tried, her brows furrowing as she searched for the right words, “You just…you never really acted like anything was wrong.”

There was a long silence after Nesta had spoken, the only thing changing being Elain’s expression. First shock, then, bit by bit, that surprise melted into rage.

“I never acted like I was raped?”

Bitterness and resolution came over the eldest sister’s face. “I did not mean it like that, and you know I didn’t.”

“What Nesta is trying to say,” Feyre intervened, “Is that we wish you could’ve told us, we guess we just thought we were close enough for that.”

“Wait…” Elain breathed deeply. “Is that what this is about? You’re mad at me because I didn’t tell you about what happened?”

“No! We’re not mad at you!” Nesta huffed, throwing her hands up in frustration.

“We just…” Feyre began to rub soothing circles on Nesta’s back, “We just want to help. We would’ve always wanted to help>”

“Well frankly Feyre God knows if I ever needed help with anything you would be the last person I’d turn to.”

The words had flooded out of Elain before she could even consider them. They came thundering out of her mouth and echoed around the forest, the weight of them practically shrouding the sun in clouds.

Each of the three sisters seemed to reel back at what had just been said, each of them trying to figure out what the words meant and where they had come from – no one thinking harder than Elain.

“What?” Nesta hissed.

“I…” Elain could on stare. Stare and stare and stare.

Feyre blinked, her eyes wide as her arms came up to hug herself. “Why would you say that?”

It was Nesta’s turn to rub soothing circles on Feyre’s back, angling her body so that she was almost a barrier in between Elain and their little sister. Elain didn’t miss out on this. She felt her hands begin to shake.

“I…” Elain began, trying to explain herself but it all felt too much. “I…why did you let him do it?” She eventually whispered, feeling something within her give.

“Let who do what?”

“Rhysand…I know you know, because I know how mates work I have one of my own if you hadn’t noticed.” Elain felt tears prick behind her eyes. All that pathetic arguing had finally given way to this – a kernel of truth. “You let him treat me like that, like I wasn’t even a person.”

Feyre blinked whilst Nesta just stared, clearly excluded from the conversation.

Feyre tilted her head, the cogs working behind those glassy eyes. “Is this about…”

“Azriel told me,” Elain confessed. “A few days after the Valkyries won the Blood Rite. He told me everything and apologised and I haven’t spoken to him since.”

“I told Rhys it was a bad idea but…”

“But…?”

A steely look of determination came over the High Lady’s face. “But when you are who Rhysand and I am, you are forced to make difficult decisions-”

“-it wasn’t your choice to make.” Elain couldn’t help but interject.

“You were about to induce a blood duel!”

“Oh please, what kind of excuse-”

“-Beron would’ve sized any opportunity to attack the Night Court-”

“-you still could’ve told me!”

Elain couldn’t stop shaking. They hadn’t fought like this…ever. Petty, sisterly squabbles – sure. But this, this was real. This was honest dislike bubbling between siblings. Years of passive-aggressive co-existence had finally snapped like thin ice, and Elain couldn’t help but feel that she was sinking under the water, choking on the frost as she looked up at her two sisters still steady on the ice top, watching her drown.

Turning to the trees, Elain whispered to the willows. “He was all I had.”

Nothing came from behind her. Just empty silence.

"It’s no secret,” Elain turned back to them, feeling a dribble of wetness escape her eye. “We’re sisters but we’re not best friends. Feyre you have Mor and Amren, and Nesta you have Gwyn and Emerie-”

“-and you have Nuala and Cerridwen-”

“-I had Azriel!” Elain choked, feeling her voice break. It felt as though there was an ocean within her about to give. “He was my friend, he listened to me and would talk to me every day, by choice.”

She glared at Feyre. “I was never a burden to him.”

She turned to Nesta. “He thought I was plenty interesting.”

“But Elain he wasn’t just your friend, you and I both know that, and that created a political threat that Rhysand and I as your High Lord and Lady needed to resolve-”

“-and I would’ve been happy to oblige, that’s what you don’t get!” Elain felt hysterical as she raked her hands down her face, “I would’ve understood, I would’ve stepped back but-” she choked “-why didn’t you tell me?”

There it was.

“Am I not important enough to know about what goes on in my own life? Do my own flesh and blood really think that little of me?”

Feyre seemed to be getting more and more exhausted with this version of Elain. “Oh please you know that’s not true-”

“Well I’m definitely not a part of your little Inner Circle so clearly you don’t value me the same as everyone else-”

“Of course, you’re part of the Inner Circle!” Feyre clapped her inked hands together in frustration.

Elain levelled her up. “Beron was just poisoned, and you found the time to invite my mate halfway across the world for a meeting in Night and yet couldn’t bother clueing me in.”

“Lucien, unlike you, still needs to make amends and has an established role within my court and therefore has court duties.”

“I’m not here to talk about Lucien-”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Feyre laughed sarcastically, “You were plenty comfortable throwing his name around earlier.”

“He is my mate-”

“Who you ignored-”

“-and!? You still know Lucien, and if I had chosen Azriel and if I had chosen to break the bond, you know he would’ve accepted it.”

“Do you really think Lucien would be loyal to you?”

It was like a slap. Feyre may as well have just struck her.

A dark look shrouded her little sister’s eyes and her mouth shrivelled up, as though Feyre could already taste the poison-laced within the words that she was about to spit.

“The reality is,” Feyre looked to the trees, unable to meet Elain’s eye, “out of the three of us here, Lucien has the most loyalty to me.”

There was a faint ringing in Elain’s ears.

Feyre nor Nesta seemed to care about the weight of the statement the littlest sister had just made.

“We came here to help,” Nesta began, her voice strangely calm and tired. “We just wanted to chat to our sister and to check up on her since we hadn’t heard from her in a while. All that’s gotten us is verbal abuse.”

“Oh,” Elain half-laughed, wishing this horrid conversation would end, “Are you hurt by this?

Feyre swung around. “Yeah, Elain, actually we are.”

Elain laughed bitterly. “No.”

“No?”

“No. This isn’t about you. I was the one who was raped. I was the one who was lied to by my own sister-”

“Oh!” Feyre laughed semi-manically, “Does it sting?” She overtly stuck out her bottom lip. “Does it suck, Elain? To have a sister who completely and utterly fails you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Elain said, lowly, feeling the breath leave her.

“Why are we standing here and pretending like you’re such a saint!” Feyre half-squealed, and for a moment, Elain was reminded of just how young she was. How young they all were, and yet here they had found themselves, tied up in the very fabric of the universe.

“I never claimed I was a Saint-”

“-no but you sure as hell walk around on pretty high-fucking-horse considering you spent all those years picking flowers and buying dresses whilst I went out into the woods every day and risked my life to feed you! Maybe if you weren’t so useless-” Feyre seemed to cut herself off. It was like the words just faded into thin air as she turned and glared into the trees whilst chewing on her bottom lip.

Elain recognised that childlike expression, it was the face of someone who knew they were in the wrong, and yet were willing to do anything to not admit it.

Numb. Elain felt numb, to everything, and in the back of her mind, all that really stuck was that little comment Feyre had made.

Lucien is more loyal to me.

“Do you have anything else to contribute?” Elain numbly asked Nesta.

Nesta seemed distant as she spoke., “I think enough has been said.”

Elain could still only stare.

It was done. Whatever this had been, it was over. Elain could take no more. Smoothing down the waist of her dress Elain walked for the pathway in which they had entered the clearing, following that golden thread more than anything.

Turning back, she found her sisters already watching her leave.

“From now on,” she began, “don’t come looking for me again.” Staring at her sisters, both dressed in night court black, she felt the threads of the universe tighten in her skin.

Pulling herself up to her full height, Elain stared vacantly at her little sister. “From this moment on I renounce my place in the Night Court. I renounce you as my High Lady and Rhysand as my High Lord. I want no more of your money, no more of your handouts. I’m done…I’m entirely done.”

And with that Elain turned and walked away from the only family she’d ever known.

She remembered nothing of the walk back through the woods to where Rhysand and Lucien were still chatting, though suspiciously their postures looked tenser. Elain didn’t doubt for one second that Rhys had gleaned everything that had just transpired from his mate.

That being said, Rhys did nothing but bow his head to Elain as she approached, his violet eyes glittering a few shades darker than usual.

But Rhys was just a grey cloud in comparison to the sparkling light that was Lucien. He seemed to her at that moment as the brightest thing perhaps in the universe, with his glittering auburn hair and tinkling golden eye.

He looked down at her as if he could see right through her, as though he could see the war of emotion that was churning up her insides.

As if knowing the answer already, Lucien placed his hands on Elain’s shoulders and pulled her out of Rhysand’s sight. “Are you okay?”

Elain could only stare at him for a few moments before, finally, shaking her head.

“No.”

***

“I think I’m blowing this out of proportion.”

Elain was curled up in a ball on Lucien’s bed whilst he sat in his desk chair, a polite distance away.

“You’re not,” Lucien said quietly, his voice rumbling from deep within his chest. “Everything you’re feeling is valid. Everything Feyre and Nesta are feeling is valid too. It’s just complicated.”

“Life’s complicated,” Elain grumped shoving her face into the pillow.

She wasn’t quite sure what had just happened, all she knew now was that the sun was setting, and the members of the Night Court had left Spring – and that was perhaps the last time she will have seen her sisters for some time.

“I can’t believe the way they spoke to me,” Elain sat up suddenly, feeling her grief sitting heavy in her chest, like a small stone in her heart. “I just can’t believe…”

To Elain’s surprise, she felt a dribble of wetness trickle out the corners of her eyes. Turning away from Lucien, she cursed under her breath.

“Damn…sorry, I don’t mean to be emotional.”

“Mother, Elain…” She heard Lucien half-laugh, his voice husky and warm. Then all of a sudden he was next to her on the bed, the sheets dipping around him as he reached out and placed his warm, strong hand against her cheek. “You don’t apologise for crying.”

Elain could only stare at him, stare and stare as she felt herself being pulled down and under.

***

“Christ Elain, it wasn’t that bad was it.”

The plank of wood Elain was leaning against was cold and hard. It hadn’t been sanded and so she could feel splinters digging into the back of her arms and legs. It was a nice contrast to the warmth and soft, mushy skin that had been smothering her only moments before.

She couldn’t say anything to the boy in front of her, in fact, she didn’t think she could speak at all.

“Come on Elain, you’re making me feel bad.”

She knew she was and yet she couldn’t stop crying. It wasn’t cries that were coming within, it was more like crying was something that was happening to her. The tears were simply pouring out of her, trickling down her face and disappearing into the dark.

If only she could feel her body. If only she could control herself she might be able to stop crying.

But her body wasn’t beneath her anymore, it was somewhere else, somewhere far, far away.

“You said you wanted this. Don’t forget that.”

All around her was the smell of eucalyptus and moonlight. Endless, endless moonlight, that smothered everything like a silver blanket. There was no colour in this moonlight, only the grey and the black.

“I’ve got to go Elain.”

She didn’t mind him leaving. She minded the goodbye kiss he pressed against her cheek. His lips were still wet and warm, his upper lip coated in a layer of sweat. It was like a branding, and even when he’d left the barn and she’d scrubbed at her cheek until she sobbed, Elain couldn’t help but suppose that she’d never shake the feeling of that kiss. That, that kiss was more damaging than the act itself.

It’s like he knew what he’d done, and a weak, wet offering of tenderness was his attempt at an apology.

Stumbling out of the barn, Elain felt the feeling of him on top of her, around her, in her, follow. And so she ran. She ran through the fields, crushing the eucalyptus underfoot. She ran through the backyards of friends and strangers. She ran through fields and woods. She ran and ran and ran.

And she’s been running ever since.

***

“You okay?”

Warmth.

Elain nuzzled in closer. “Yes.”

She’d collapsed against him as she’d been taken back. It seems that her powers of sight were not just of the future, but also of the past.

Elain was so tired from the day, from the fight and the loss that she didn’t even mind the closeness of her and her mate. The sun was setting, and the room was full of gold light and, just for once, Elain didn’t mind just letting herself exist for a few moments.

“Thank you,” she whispered into the silence, after several moments.

“For what?” Lucien hummed, his arm curling almost instinctively around her.

Elain thought back on the past 24 hours, on everything she had felt, and how everything seemed to have changed. Today had felt like a seismic shift. When Nesta and Feyre had left with Rhysand, leaving behind Elain and Lucien, it was almost as though Elain could feel the fibres of the universe splitting, and yet despite all that change, she had somehow ended the day here, in Lucien’s arms.

“Staying.”

Tag List: @jvwhyte @ladyelain @softfbangts1 @andwhataboutiit @mads39-blog1 @cinnamon-mentos @chloepereyra @katekatpattywack

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#elain archeron #elucien #elain #elain acotar #elain x lucien #lucien x elain #acosf #acofas #acomaf #acotar

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exquisitley-obsessed · 2 years

Note

Hey! Fiancé’s, firebirds, and fawns is great so far. :) your doing great 😌

Thank you so much! I’m going to use this ask for a little update.

You will have noticed that I haven’t updated the fic in a while and that’s actually because I’m abroad teaching English to young children in Asia.

The WiFi here is really choppy and I won’t be back till a day before Christmas. I have the next few chapters sketched out and there should be an update a few days after Christmas.

Thank you for being so patient!

#fffaf #lovely asks

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exquisitley-obsessed · 2 years

Text

Fiancés, Firebirds, Foxes & Fawns: 16

Author: @exquisitley-obsessed

Pairings: Elucien, Elain x Lucien

Warnings: none

THIS FIC’S MASTERIST

MY MASTERLIST

AO3

Chapter Sixteen: Innocence Lost

Elain was looking at a young girl. Well, a young, feminine fae.

The girl was sitting at the edge of a royal bed in a grand room, bedecked in gold and white. Her feet were swinging over the edge, not able to touch the floor. Her fae-ness was evident in the translucency of her skin, and her hair being a shade of violet. Her eyes too appeared like two beautiful, glassy almonds.

The girl seemed angry, frustrated in a way only children could be.

Elain watched as she swung her feet, back and forth and back and forth, each time slightly quicker and more aggressive. The girl chewed furiously on her bottom lip and gripped the edge of her bed until her knuckles, visible through her skin, turned white.

“Don’t frown, you’ll get wrinkles.” A woman had entered the room, a pinny tied around her waist. This woman was grown and clearly fae, with skin that looked like the bark of a tree.

“I’ll frown if I please,” the girl huffed in response, rolling on her side and facing the wall.

The woman at the door looked at the little girl long and hard, some kind of internal battle raging within her.

“They do value, you know.”

“No. They don’t. They don’t even listen to what I have to say.”

“Can you blame them?” The woman had begun to clean.

“I’m telling the truth!” The little girl swung around; her anger palpable. “That is why you all brought me here – why you took me from my home!”

“They…they didn’t take you,” the woman sighed, though she didn’t look too convinced.

“Yes. They. Did. They stole me just like mother said they would…I should’ve never gone into town that day.”

“It’s not so bad being here, is it?” The maid settled on the bed, a healthy distance away from the still irate little girl.

“It’s torture!” The girl implored, throwing her hands up. “I can’t see my mother or any of my brothers. They make me wear those terrible gowns and go to all those boring parties-”

“-those parties are full of some of the most important fae in Prythian-” the maid tried interjecting.

“-who all look at me with disgust!” The girl was standing now. Her nightdress was far too large for her and dragged on the floor as she walked. Her hair hung loose and was long enough to touch her fingertips. Elain couldn’t stop admiring the translucency of her pale skin, the way she could see all of her veins and muscles.

“Shh. Come on, they don’t…”

“They do…” Tears welled in the girl's eyes as she looked around her bedecked room. For a moment, it seemed like her eyes and Elain’s met.

“I just want to go home.”

***

Elain surged awake.

She was in Spring, her thin mattress creaking under her. Blinking, she tried to make out the shapes of her little room.

Moonlight was streaming in through her boxy window telling her that she had drifted to sleep when she’d laid down to read her book in the afternoon. It seems she was more tired than she thought.

It had been two more days since her collision with Tamlin, of whom she’d seen nothing of since. That meant it would soon be time to return back to Lockhart Manor, at least that was the old plan, the plan that had been in place when she’d last seen Lucien, which was now a full week ago.

A full week, gone, during which Elain had achieved entirely nothing. Not with Tamlin. Not with Lucien. Not even within herself.

She’d found herself too uncomfortable to read the diary of Daia Honey Blossom after encountering Tamlin. She didn’t want him thinking of her as stealing from his archives as he had put it two days ago. Instead, she was planning on returning the book before they left, she’d just found she couldn’t stand being anywhere near that room.

Rolling on her side, Elain glared at the peeling paint of the room’s walls, and couldn’t help but feel just as frustrated as that little girl had been.

Who was she? Sitting in what appeared to be some kind of royal room in clothes that did not fit her, begging to go home.

Where was home for that little girl?

With a sigh, she rolled back over and came face to face with the book she’d stolen from the study, perched on the drawers near her bed.

With a slight resentment, she reached up and plucked the book. She wasn’t going to read it, not yet at least. But it couldn’t hurt to just flip through…

As the pages blurred past Elain realised that this was no novel, but rather, a journal. Someone with rather scribbly, slanted writing had furiously scribbled passage after passage, with the dates infrequently marked. Some passages were only a few words, others went on for pages and pages. In some of the passages, the writer had gone back and marked in the margins, adding in whole sentences or the odd word.

Though, one thing did stand out to Elain in this journal.

As she got near the end of the diary the passages were irregularly sprawling across the pages, entirely ignoring the marked lines. Then, the passages changed entirely and became almost hilariously uniform. Each line consisting of the same nine words - I prophecui na- hen, nin fawn, nin lóth tui.

Flipping to the front cover, Elain traced her fingers over the inscription in the dark, the one that had been cut into the cover with some kind of knife.

It was the same. Those same words in a language Elain didn’t understand.

Flipping the book back open, Elain returned to the end. The pages all began to blur into one as each line consisted of the same sentence. The same words. A prayer or a mantra. Either way, the consciousness of this entire being had reduced itself into that one, incomprehensible sentence.

Flipping back a few pages, Elain read aloud some of the last coherent passages.

“I feel myself being consumed. Burning like a candle into ash and nothingness, and what do they do? They laugh. They laugh. They laugh. They…”

Next page.

“It’s eating me up. I can feel the maggots in my brain. I hope my corpse gives them a worthy meal.”

Next page.

“Mother came to see me, my brothers, too. That’s weird. I thought they were all dead.”

Next page.

“I have five hundred years to go. I cannot bear this any longer. Someone, someday will make sense of this all. I hope they will understand how hard I fought. I hope they can forgive me.”

That was the last passage before the repeating, incomprehensible prayer began. I hope they can forgive me. Those were this person’s last sane words.

Elain turned back to the front cover, and once more traced those engraved words.

“I prophecui na- hen, nin fawn, nin lóth tui”, she whispered into the silence. The words felt clunky in her mouth, and she felt foolish for trying to make sense of a language she knew nothing about.

“I prophecui…na- hen…nin fawn…nin lóth tui”, she said, slower.

“I prophecui na- hen…”, she closed her eyes and tried to picture the words as she spoke them aloud. “…nin fawn, nin lóth tui.”

Curled on her side, with the book as her only companion, Elain whispered to the moon those same nine words until sleep came, and mercifully dragged her under.

She was home, in the Manor in which she had grown up, her father sitting across from her, and, unlike her, he actually fit in the armchair he was sitting in. The fire was warm and the house was quiet. This was her childhood.

Master Archeron’s brows furrowed, his book flopping flat against his chest.

“Why do you ask Lainy? Fear you’re falling?”

“No…” Elain’s brows furrowed. “…quite the opposite actually.”

“Ah, you’re dreaming of falling in love.”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

“Don’t ask either of your sisters that.”

“Nesta’s just headstrong and, and Feyre’s not old enough to be thinking like that.” Elain kicked her feet from where they dangled over the edge of the armchair, her legs not long enough to touch the floor.

“I’d argue that neither are you.”

“You’re just protective.” The fire crackled, the wood snapping, sounding just like a neck breaking.

“If you won’t answer that question, do you promise to answer another?”

“Yes.”

“How did you know you loved mother?”

“Ah…”

It had been a few weeks since Mrs Archeron had been diagnosed. At this moment in time, she sat only a few floors above the pair in a bed all by herself, with nothing but her bitter heart and prayers to keep her company.

“Me and your mother…” Master Archeron sighed, twirling with a strand of his hair at the nape of his neck. It was already greying, a reminder that Elain wouldn’t have him forever – her hero. That’s why she soaked up as much time as she could with him. She couldn’t understand why she didn’t feel the same about her mother.

After sighing once more, deep and long, he began again. “Your Mother and I met at the Springtime Ball-”

“-I thought your marriage was arranged.” Little Elain couldn’t help but interject.

“No…petal,” Master Archeron smiled tiredly at her. “We just told you that. We actually met at the Springtime Ball, during which your mother was engaged to a foreign Prince she’d never met. That marriage was arranged.”

“Mother was going to marry a prince?” Elain stared, wide-eyed.

“She was hoping to. Her own mother had pulled some strings and cashed in several favours in order to buy the engagement. Your mother was a very smart, beautiful woman with a mysterious past. But, above all else, her own mother trusted her more than anything. That’s why she was allowed to go to the Springtime ball without a chaperone.”

“I can’t believe that! Mother would never let us do that!” Elain’s bottom lip jutted out.

“No, and for good reason,” Master Archeron tried to appear stern, but his eyes betrayed his warmth and kindness. “Well, it was here that your mother met me, and whilst I was no prince, I was rather handsome…I made her laugh, you see. I told her these dirty jokes; I don’t think she’d ever met someone who knew that kind of language before. That night…well, we drank too much and danced until our shoes had worn through and were unwearable.” He chuckled at the memory. “The result of that night, of our fun…was Nesta…and whilst Nesta was a blessing, it, unfortunately, meant that your mother could no longer could marry that prince. Instead, I offered my hand, and we were married before your mother began to show.”

“Was she upset? That she couldn’t marry the prince?”

Elain’s father’s eyes glossed over as he thought, “No…not really. She wasn’t upset about the prince; she was upset about her mother. After we were married, your grandmother never spoke to your mother ever again. In fact, your mother didn’t know your grandmother had even passed till several months after the funeral.”

“But what about you? Did she love you?”

“Yes. She did, for a time. There was a time after Nesta was born where everything felt right. Nesta will always be your mother’s greatest creation, as Nesta alone is what bought my hand in marriage, and therefore my heritage and money, but you…Lainy, are mine. Because whilst Nesta was a collision of fates, a roll of the dice…you were a product of plain and simple love.”

“…and Feyre?”

“Feyre was…” Master Archeron coughed a little, and Elain felt as though she saw him scrub his cheek. “Feyre was a cry for help. I don’t need to tell you but, your mother fell out of love with me a few months after you were born. Feyre was…she was your mother trying to make sense of it all, trying to find an ending to this curse she’d found herself in.”

Elain went silent. She didn’t like feeling as though she were gossiping with her father about her sisters.

“What about you?” She asked instead.

“Pardon?”

“Do you still love mother?”

Elain watched as her father rubbed at his chest, his head lolling to one side as he stared into the flickering fire. There was something enigmatic about him at the moment, something that Elain had forever been trying to figure out.

“I will love her until my last breath…even if she does not accept me. She is a miracle to me, and my greatest punishment, as for my insolence and arrogance in my younger days, I am sentenced to her hatred.”

***

“Elain.”

Someone was shaking her awake.

“Elain.”

Opening her eyes a crack all she saw was moonlight. Still not dawn. Still not time to leave.

“Elain!”

Moaning Elain tried to push the hands gripping her away. For some reason, waking up this time, she felt more at peace than she had in days. All she wanted was to roll over and curl into that feeling, hold onto it and never let it slip away.

“Elain, I will drag you out of bed, please don’t underestimate me.”

Hold on. Elain knew that voice. She knew those hands gripping her shoulders, trying to pull her away from sleep. It couldn’t be. Could it?

Opening her eye a crack Elain was once more blinded by moonlight, but beyond that, all she could see was a curtain of fiery red hair.

She shot up – and collided her forehead with Lucien’s.

“Mother fucker-”

“-Lucien?” They both spluttered, rubbing their foreheads.

“Elain, you’re awake…only took a small earthquake.”

Elain hardly took in what he was saying, simply shocked to see him standing here, in her room, after so many days away. He was wearing fine clothes, a doe-brown pair of trousers and a white button-up with a green vest and gold embellishments. His hair was loose and wild, his sleeves pushed up to show his toned arms, his tan skin soaking up the moonlight.

“Elain, what are you doing in this room? I came looking for you, followed the bond and all that and to my surprise found you sleeping in what appears to be a prison cell. You do understand there are other rooms for you to sleep in? You’re not doing this out of your genetic Archeron spite, and here I was thinking you and Feyre were so unalike.”

Lucien was rambling, and one look at him told Elain he was as tired as she felt.

Where had he been? What had he been doing? Why was he in her room?

She wanted to shout at him, she wanted to jump into his arms and bang on his chest and then beg that he never let her go. Instead, she just muttered, “This is the room Tamlin gave me.”

“Tamlin gave you this room?” Lucien exclaimed, suddenly looking at her with wide, alarmed eyes. “What do you mean Tamlin gave you this room?”

“I mean…” Elain spluttered, feeling her body awaken underneath her. This was happening, right? “I mean…why are you in my room in the middle of the night?”

“First of all, calling this a room is the funniest thing you’ve ever said, second, I came here to…”

“To…?” Elain propped, sitting up properly now and pulling her thin bedsheets around her shoulders.

“To tell you where’ve I’ve been I….I thought you might want to know but I can see I was wrong about that too.”

What? What else had he been wrong about?

Lucien and Elain seemed to look at each other for several moments, simply soaking each other up, their presence, their clothes, their scent.

“Why do you have such thin bedsheets?” Lucien spluttered after several seconds.

Elain could only stare at him, and it took a moment before Lucien himself seemed to realise how stupid he sounded.

“I’m just going to leave-” He turned towards the door.

“Of course I want to know where you’ve been!” Elain suddenly exploded, leaping from her bed, her bedsheets still wrapped around her. “You’ve been gone, for an entire week, without saying a single word.”

“I know-”

“No! You don’t! You just left…you left me here…not only did you leave without telling me, but you didn’t even bother to send me a letter telling me where you were? No! Instead you just wait a week and show up in my room in the middle of the night and you want to talk to me about the bedsheets…”

“I’m…beginning…to see…”

“To see?” Elain probed; still not quite sure she was awake.

“…the error of my ways?” Lucien said with a slow shrug, as though he really didn’t know what he was saying. “I’m tired.” He followed up quickly.

“Aren’t we all,” Elain bit out. Then that silence fell again, the one that was always haunting their conversations. It was a silence full of words that were unspoken.

“I should leave,” Lucien said after a moment, not meeting her eye.

“Wait…” she’d waited a week for him, and she could put aside her pride for a moment, as long as it meant he would stay, even for a moment.

“Where did you go?” Why did you leave?

Lucien looked at her in a way that made all her anger dissipate. He looked tired, more tired than she had ever seen him before. He’d clearly been wearing his clothes for some time, and his hair was mussed in a way that told her he’d been pulling at it.

“Beron was poisoned.”

“What?” Elain couldn’t help but splutter, and with that, the frost and ice between them cracked. “Is he alive?”

“Just…though, I suspect he’s doing worse than what’s being presented.”

Elain could only stare. Beron Vanserra, High Lord, poisoned?

“I…what?”

“I know,” Lucien dragged a hand down his face before walking further into the room and sitting on Elain’s bed, his head dropping into his hands. After a pause, Elain joined him, lighting her bedside candle as she passed it.

“How did it happen?” Elain sat a healthy distance next to him, unable to tear her eyes away from him for a second.

“We’re not entirely sure how, though the ‘who’ has been made painfully and indisputably clear,” her mate sighed, still not lifting his head from his hands. She waited for him to continue, in his own time.

“There is a, um,” he coughed, “Growing resistance.”

“To what?”

“This new world we’re building,” he said the words with a lilt in his voice, but there was no light in his eyes. “There are certain fae who greatly oppose the wall being pulled down. This…group…are calling themselves the Nightingales. It’s unclear what they’re after but they appear to be resisting all High Lords. It appears that many of them are lesser fae, and many of them lost family in the war against Hybern and have not been…compensated.”

Elain could feel her body going into shock, her hearing fading out. She thought the world had been fine, unified after Hybern’s defeat. Of course she was ignorant of the reality of things. Perhaps all that had united people during the war, was a common enemy.

“I’ve been everywhere this past week. Every single Court. When I wasn’t running Rhysand’s errands, it was Tamlin’s. It seems that for some incredibly bizarre reason, people trust me…which is more of a curse than anything.” He finally lifted his head, resting his chin on his hand and glaring into the distance.

“My God…” Elain wasn’t one for swearing, but the situation seemed to allow it.

“I know,” he sighed, “If people weren’t anxious before…” he half-laughed, “I’ve barely slept. I…” he glanced at her nervously. “I tried to get back to you as quick as I could, and when I did get here I couldn’t help but check on you, just make sure you were alright. But then I saw this…cell…you’re living in-”

“It’s not that bad-”

“Elain, Eris’ dogs having thicker mattresses than this,” Lucien emphasised his point by bouncing a little on the bed and looking down disapprovingly.

Elain could only look at him. Soak him all up. She wasn’t ready to admit it, but she wasn’t upset so much at being left behind, but at being left in the dark. If only she had known he was okay, that he was safe, and that he would be returning to her. It was safe to say she wasn’t the easiest person when it came to trusting.

“I need to go to autumn,” Lucien said bluntly, still staring into the distance “I’ve been summoned.”

Elain wasn’t quite sure what that meant exactly, nor why Lucien who she knew hadn’t stepped foot in Autumn for centuries, was now being called to go back. All she knew is if he was going, she was going too.

“You would come with me…now?”

Lucien seemed to pause before his eyes swivelled over to her. They seemed to rove over her for a prolonged second, his golden eye whirring and clicking as he checked her over. Looking for injuries, she already knew. “You would do that?”

Elain shrugged, “There’s nothing else to do here.”

Lucien chuckled to himself, and Elain felt some part of her sag with relief. It was the first time he’d smiled since being back. She hadn’t realised how much she’d missed that grin “You’ve not made much progress with Tamlin I take it?”

“I’ve tried.”

“I know you have. I know you would’ve tried harder than anyone.”

Elain observed him. After the way Tamlin had treated her all she had wanted to do was talk to her mate about it. Not for any particular reason, she just wanted to get it off her chest. Something about the way the High Lord had looked at her, the way he had pressed his lips against her cheek, it all made her feel so dirty. But looking at Lucien now, seeing the shadows under his eyes, she couldn’t bear the idea of offloading her petty dilemmas onto him.

“It really hasn’t been too bad. I’ve been able to do what I love.” She tucked her legs up under herself.

“I saw the gardens as I came in…” He murmured, shyly, “They’re beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Elain felt her cheeks heat. “They’re not finished.”

“Well, it gives you something to come back to.”

“We’ll be coming back here?” Elain asked, trying not to let her voice waver.

“In due time, yes. I’m not quite sure about the foreseeable future but, Tamlin wants to see me on a regular basis. Not as often as initially thought but…”

“Okay, that’s great,” Elain softly interrupted him as he seemed to stumble across another troubling line of thought. “It gives me time to come back with some seeds.”

The look Lucien gave her went right down to her bones. It was sleepy and tired but, full of adoration and…want.

“Right,” Lucien coughed and stood, “To bed Missy.”

“I’m already in bed.”

“Elain please stop joking, my ribs hurt…but seriously, if you think I’m going to let you sleep here for the rest of the night you might actually be insane.”

He opened the door and gestured for her to follow.

“Where else will I sleep?”

Lucien yawned, “My room of course.”

Elain paused, and Lucien didn’t miss this.

“I won’t be there…of course…” He added, looking down at her softly.

“Right…of course…” Elain stood, still wrapped in her bedsheets and followed Lucien out into the hall. They walked slowly through the broken hallways, lit only by candles and moonlight. They didn’t need to talk, Elain realised as they neared Lucien’s room, both of them were simply soaking up the feeling of being near another. Of feeling the bond be so short between the two of them, and content.

“Right, here we are,” Lucien smiled down at her, a glint having returned to his eye. He opened the door for her as he leaned on the doorframe and Elain was hit by her mate’s scent.

Almost as though she were in a trance, Elain drifted into the room. It was otherworldly, a pocket of Autumn in the heart of Spring. The walls were of the deepest crimson and the windows were shrouded by thick, heavy curtains. The bed had gold leaf bannisters and royal bedding with a laughable amount of pillows. It was Lucien, through and through.

“Is this okay?” he sounded strangely nervous.

Elain couldn’t tear her eyes away from all the nooks and cranny’s of love, the embellishments Lucien had made personally. It was… “perfect.”

Lucien coughed and Elain’s eyes were once more drawn back to her mate. If she were not mistaken, her cheeks were slightly pink in the moonlight.

“Right, well, I’ll leave you to sleep then,” he smiled, a real smile, and just as he was turning to go that same seriousness shrouded his features. He looked back at her, checking her over once more before asking, “Just…tell me, honestly, were you okay?”

It was almost as though he had read her. Had seen the hesitation in her answers and somehow knew she hadn’t been entirely truthful when discussing her stay at Spring Manor.

But what was there to say?

“I…” didn’t feel safe. Missed you more than I thought it was possible to miss a person. Feel utterly useless and a burden. Want to do something important. Want to be someone important. I…“-was okay. Really. Don’t underestimate me.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Lucien chuckled, “I learned a long time ago to never underestimate an Archeron.”

He turned to go but, “Lucien?”

“Yes.”

It was Elain’s turn to stare. She couldn’t tell him about what had happened with Tamlin, not yet. But she could ensure that it didn’t happens again. “Don’t leave me behind, ever again.”

“Of course-” She turned, suddenly, with wide, pained eyes.

“Swear it.”

He stared at her for a few moments before straightening himself and with a slight bow of his head he promised. “I swear that I shall never again leave you, Lady.”

And after several moments of seriousness, that same, familiar lop-sided grin grew on her mate’s face, and Elain knew that all was well with the world.

“Sleep well, Lainy…for me,” he grinned at her, his hand on the doorknob.

Elain was a second away from asking him to stay, even just for a little while, but he was already gone. Disappearing as he had a week ago.

Quickly, she soothed the wave of panic – he was here, he had come to see her, he was home.

Standing at the edge of Lucien’s bed, Elain dropped the bedsheet from her shoulders in a way that felt strangely intimate. Slowly, as though to almost not disturb the sheets, Elain peeled them back a few inches and sunk in.

In an instant, Elain was overwhelmed by the feeling of him. The warmth and colour of the sheets, the Autumn room, his scent burned into every pillowcase.

Without thinking Elain burrowed deep into the centre of the bed, wrapping herself as tightly as she could in the sheets – his sheets.

For a moment, right before she drifted into the most peaceful sleep of her life, Elain had a distinct feeling that she was finally home.

***

Elain,

Father was poisoned yesterday. I got an urgent letter from Eris, it’s the first time he’s ever sounded panicked. Even though he’s primed and ready for the throne, I still think he’s not quite ready to step up to the plate. I think he resents it, in a weird way. I know I would. That’s because birthrights are a blessing and a curse, it’s hard to feel like anything you do is important when it’s already set in stone.

I was officially summoned by Autumn Court only a few hours ago. All hush hush, of course. The only reason a traitorous bastard like me would ever be summoned by the High Regency of Autumn would be if my father was on his deathbed. Though, I’m sure it’s not my face he’d ever wish to see before he kicks the bucket. I think that’s why I’m considering actually going.

Is it crazy for me to miss it? Don’t answer that. I don’t miss it. Not really. I miss my mother and, I suppose, who I was when I was in Autumn. In the middle of such a mess, I was strangely innocent.

I’m writing letters to you again because I haven’t seen you in two full days and it’s beginning to feel like old times. Except now, it’s so much worse. Now, I have kissed you. Now I know what you smell like when you burn for me. Now, I have heard the music of your pleasured sighs.

You are not just haunting me anymore, you are devouring me, body and soul. I am consumed by you like a forest is consumed by fire. Though I’d never wish for this blaze to cease.

I know I will not send this letter. One, because I physically cannot. But two, I don’t want to mess this up. Whatever this is.

I hope I have haunted your dreams as you have haunted mine.

I hope you have missed me.

I hope you are well.

Yours, faithfully and eternally,

Lucien

***

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#elucien #elucien fic #elucien fluff #elucien fanfiction #elucien slow burn #Elain #elain archeron #elain acotar #elain x lucien #elain archeron x lucien #elain x lucien vanserra #elain archeron x lucien vanserra #lucien x elain #lucien vanserra x elain #lucien x elain archeron #lucien vanserra x elain archeron #fffaf

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exquisitley-obsessed · 2 years

Text

Fiancé’s, Firebirds, Foxes & Fawns: 15

Author: @exquisitley-obsessed

Pairings: Elucien, Elain x Lucien

Warnings: uncomfortableness and arguments

THIS FIC’S MASTERIST

MY MASTERLIST

AO3

Chapter Fifteen: Spring Showers

Two full days had passed in Spring, during which Elain had seen very little progress of her master plan. Both days she’d woken at the crack of dawn to a seemingly empty house. Breakfast was always left for her, mostly consisting of dried meat and nuts and, if she were lucky, the odd fruit.

After dining alone in the desolate wasteland of Spring Manor, she’d lace up her boots, tie her pinny, and make her way into the garden.

Despite seeing nothing of her mate nor the High Lord, the garden was coming along finely. It felt nice to be where Elain was happiest, where she got to put her best skill to use.

She was no good at numbers and couldn’t read books for extended periods of time, but out here amongst the sun and plants, a world in which life quite literally blossomed, she was brilliant.

In the short time she’d been here she’d managed to cut back the majority of the overgrown bushes and had begun to draw out more in-depth plans of the beds. In her planning she had woven together a story told in botany. Streams of Lavender and Lilac would melt into pockets of Dahlia’s and then crowns by Baby’s-Breath. To some, they may simply see the flowers for pretty delicacies, but anyone with a trained eye could see the story told in the petals.

The only downside to her work was having no one to share it with. Wherever Lucien and Tamlin were, whatever they were doing, it kept them away from Spring Manor throughout the whole day.

The second day of aloneness Elain had stayed up well past sun-down, cuddled near the fire she’d started, playing with the pages of her plans while staring at the door. It was Nuala who had found her asleep on the bare wood and winnowed her into her pathetic excuse for a bed.

Strangely, it was only the presence of the bond that kept her calm. Whenever she brushed up against it she could feel Lucien, safe and alive, usually engaged in deep thought.

Another day passed. No sign. No note. Just an empty house that felt haunted to keep her company.

Elain was beginning to hit a wall with the garden. With the tools in Tamlin’s extended shed (most of them rusty in their disuse), there was only so much she could do. Now she needed new seeds and, honestly, manpower. People to build greenhouses and garden benches, bags of gravel for paths and wooden planks for walkways.

It left Elain to eventually undo her pinny and return to the house whilst the sun was still high in the sky, as she had finally done all she could.

Walking around the empty, broken rooms, she found her predicament rather funny. A few weeks ago she had been in the Nigh Court, surrounded by people and yet, totally alone. Now she was truly alone and yet, she felt better than she had in years.

If only he were here - some part of her mind hissed and Elain battered it away.

He was busy. He was important. He had better things to do than entertain her petty attempts at luring Tamlin. She should’ve known it was a stupid idea, he was probably lying on the balcony, too chivalrous to tell her that she was a fool for thinking she could pull this off. That she should remember her place and-

Elain cut off the line of thought by bursting into a previously unexplored room.

Dark, heavy curtains blocked out most of the light and all that could be made in the dark were the shadows of furniture, towering bookcases, and elegant chairs with glinting gold detailing.

Moving further into the room the air became thicker with dust and eventually, Elain was far enough that she could yank back the curtain so several streams of sunlight could shower down into the room.

In these columns of light, Elain saw dust floating like snow, and a shiver ran the length of her spine.

This was a heavy room, the air in here seemed swirling and dark. Like with the sight of Vassa’s ring something deep with Elain had perked up its head in interest.

What had brought her here? Elain knew by now that there was no such thing as coincidence. Not with her.

From the looks of it, the room was a simple study. Not used much, and mostly untouched by Tamlin’s claws. It was simply unloved, empty with no sign of care.

Maybe she was showing herself this room for a reason.

The last known seer came from spring.

How long ago? In Tamlin’s age? Surely not. But there must be something, something…

Pulling a book off a shelf the cover jammed and pulled out several other copies which all went clattering to the floor in a cloud of dust.

Coughing, Elain bent and quickly began to pick up the books, feeling like a child stealing from the sweetie cupboard.

As she re-stacked the books on the shelf Elain’s eyes caught on the final copy. A book that looked as old as the grounds themselves. The cover was brown with whorls in gold embellished on the front. Across the top, someone had etched a string of symbols with a sharp object. The words read:

I prophecui na- hen, nin fawn, nin lóth tui

Looking at the lettering, Elain couldn’t help but feel as though she had seen the shape of them before. The words were familiar in the way they arched across the cover.

Beneath this inscription was a name in fine silver ink, written in the common tongue.

Daia Honey Blossom, of Spring Court.

For a reason beyond Elain, she paused as she went to put the book back on the shelf. It seemed to be calling out for her, pulling her in and demanding her attention.

Without thinking about it, Elain slipped the small hardcover into the pocket of her dress and turned back to the room.

Still empty. She was still alone, despite the omnipresent force she felt pushing down on her the second she had crossed the barrier into this room.

Lethargically, she continued to move around the room before coming across a cabinet full of fine china teetering on its side. Without thinking, Elain jammed her foot against the wooden leg and gripped onto the side, hoping to push it back upright before it teetered and smashed the jewels within.

As she began to push Elain realised that it had been wedged against a crook in the wall, a crook that was stopping it from crashing into the floor, a crook she’d just pushed it out of.

Too late she realised the cabinet was now free to fall against her, too late she wondered if she was strong enough to push against seven feet of mahogany and glass.

In a flash, Elain threw up her hands and pushed against the wood and-

And it stopped. The china clinked as the cabinet fell a few inches before halting. Unable to move her hands for fear that she was the only thing upholding it, Elain looked around desperately.

Perhaps if she began shouting, Nuala would appear. Or, if she were lucky, Lucien.

No. No was not the time to be thinking of-

Elain froze as she looked up. Around a foot above her hands was another pair of hands. Pale skin, littered with scars.

For a moment, Elain was taken back to her dream, a cold room with endless shadows, grey skin, white scars, an invasive voice in her mind-

“Calm down,” Tamlin’s voice seethed behind her. “If you don’t stop shaking I will let this thing fall.”

The High Lord’s voice hit her like a stone to the head, and in an instant, she came back into herself. Awkwardly, Tamlin began to push the cabinet back onto the upright position whilst Elain remained caged between the two objects – a shield in case anything went wrong.

No sooner had Tamlin appeared, he was already striding for the door leaving Elain by the now fixed cabinet and giving her a view of his clothes, now less ragged and seemingly quite tidy.

“Wait,” Elain said for some reason beyond her. The beast stopped in his tracks. Perhaps it was the adrenaline coursing through her or the fact she hadn’t seen anyone other than Nuala for the past few days but she suddenly wished the High Lord to stay for a few moments. She had so many questions. But, instead, she simply went with a small, “Thank you.”

The High Lord observed her, assessed her in a way that was clinical and yet, enigmatic. What was he thinking? What did he know? Elain had been ready to jump right into dealing with him but Nuala’s words had made her think twice.

Nodding at the cabinet, Tamlin said, slowly, “I know you’re trying to help. But don’t try fixing something that’s beyond you.” His eyes settled once more on her, piercing into her with their emerald glow. “That’s how you get hurt.”

Elain felt dumbstruck and…vulnerable. Where was Lucien?

“Feyre spoke very little about you,” he said, suddenly, his eyes back on her, assessing her as they had on that first day. Elain froze, not knowing what to do. “She ranted about the other one, Nesta, about her temper and insolence. But you were never mentioned.”

“There’s not much to say.”

“Oh, I think we both know that’s not true.” Elain bit her tongue, trying anything to stop his discomfort from showing. She didn’t want him to win.

“Compared to the likes of Nesta it’s not surprising I wasn’t mentioned,” Elain angled herself more towards the door. “She is simply louder and…brighter than I.”

“Maybe,” Tamlin husked, his fingers fluttering by his side. “But that doesn’t mean you were not worth mentioning. In fact, standing here right now, I wish Feyre spoke of you more. I wish Feyre told me everything there is to know about you. Your likes, your dislikes…just who is Elain Archeron?”

“No one,” she said quickly, too quickly. “And I like being no one. I like being the third sister, so perhaps it is a good thing she didn’t mention me at all.”

“I can smell a lie you know,” Tamlin prowled forward in a way that was purely animalistic. Oh God, where was Lucien? “You Archeron sisters have the same tells, the same little quirk of your lip when you’re not telling the truth.

“I didn’t lie.”

“Lie. Again.” Tamlin was close now. Too close.

Elain didn’t have anything to say, she didn’t understand what he wanted from her, how to play this game and, more importantly, how to win.

Tamlin had gone back to assessing her, two stones of green roving over her body in a way that made Elain want to coil in on herself. Though she refused. She stood tall and still, and hoped whatever this was, it would end soon.

“You come into my home,” he began, taking a step forward. “Sleep in a poor excuse for a bed,” another step. “Re-plant my gardens,” Tamlin’s breath ghosted across Elain’s collarbones, and she shivered in response.

Danger, her mind screamed. Get out. Now.

”You rummage around my libraries,” Tamlin’s hand raised and pressed against her stomach, his eyes watching her intently the entire time. Slowly, his hand drifted across the front of her dress before dipping into her pocket. “You steal from my archives…”

The apology was already on her lips, but Tamlin didn’t let her speak.

“Know this, Archeron.” Elain felt Tamlin finger the book from within her pocket. “I was a fool once. Not anymore. I know not to trust a pretty face, even one as breath-taking as yours…”

His head dropped and he ghosted a kiss against her cheek as he retracted his hand.

“That does not mean that you don’t…intrigue me…”

Elain stared, wide-eyed into Tamlin’s piercing, cold, green eyes. Her mask had well and truly dropped, and she felt bare underneath his gaze, vulnerable in a way she hadn’t been since the war.

Then, with a sudden crack and metallic stench of magic, Tamlin winnowed into thin air.

Heaving out several breaths, Elain took the back of her sleeve and scrubbed at her cheek - the cheek he had kissed.

What had he meant by that? What was that?

Without any assessment Elain knew Tamlin was nowhere on the grounds, in fact, she would probably guess he was on the other side of Spring Court by now.

And yet the quick-tempered Lord had left her unscathed, with a kiss on her cheek, and a book in her pocket.

That night Elain dreamt of a fox and a doe running through the woods, they were chasing each other in a playful way, dipping in and out of the trees in a race against time. But the further they ran, the more desperate they got, behind them something loomed. Something big and dark, beastly in nature, no more than a large shadow. The fox and doe were no longer playing, they were running for their lives.

Elain had woken to an empty house. She skipped breakfast, ignoring the food that was left for her out of spite. She walked through the house, she stood outside Lucien’s door for several minutes, debating whether or not it was pathetic to pop her head in just to see if his sheets still smelled like him. It was pathetic. She moved on.

She walked outside, past the gardens and out into the world. She walked farther than she had gone before, father than she knew was safe.

She ignored that she was taking a risk. She told herself to just keep walking, one foot in front of another, at least until her aloneness had shrunk.

She was walking down a path that led into fields of wheat when she spotted a shadow sitting on the white picket fence, picking at the plants.

It was wasn’t him.

“He’s not back,” he spoke without looking. “He won’t be for some time.”

”Oh,” Elain hated the way she suddenly felt vulnerable. She hated Tamlin for making her feel so. She hated Lucien for leaving her, and the fact that his absence made her feel so exposed.

“I sent him away.”

Elain didn’t have anything to say to that, in fact, she didn’t know how to talk to Tamlin at all, not after what happened yesterday. So when Tamlin looked at her and told her “Let’s go out…I want to show you something…” She didn’t know what to say.

The High Lord noticed her hesitation and, if she were not mistaken, there was a flicker of hurt that crossed his face. With a lithe athleticism, the man leapt from the fence to the grassy path in front of her. He was once again looking at her like she was some great puzzle, one that was his destiny to solve.

“Do you trust me?”

A big question, with a terribly complicated answer. Did she trust him? She didn’t know. Her body told her no, her fight or flight response screamed at her. Her hackles were raised. Her adrenaline pumping. But something deep down, some empathetic core that she could never shake, knew the real answer.

”Yes.”

And for whatever reason, as Elain uttered that single word, she felt as though she were soothing Tamlin more than anyone.

***

Elain didn’t know where Tamlin was leading her, she didn’t ask, but at some point, she thought he was punishing her again. They had walked for hours, and she knew that because she had watched the sun drift through the sky, arching over midday before sinking well into the afternoon.

All Elain had to look at were the rolling hills of Spring, and the white of Tamlin’s shirt. He was barely sweating whereas she felt as though she were hyperventilating in her thick gown.

He had walked her up hills and down them again. Through the woods and across streams, past huts and through a village before once more cresting up a hill.

They were halfway up before the clouds mercifully smothered the sun. Elain felt herself climatizing, her body cooling with the thinner weather - until the rain began.

As they crested the hill the weather had quickly turned from a light shower to thunderous, impossible rain. Each droplet feeling like a dagger, spearing from the heavens and slashing apart the grass.

With each step, each droplet, Elain felt her patience wither and die. If she wanted to be tortured she'd much rather a more classic technique, being chained in Tamlin’s dungeon seemed more attractive than...this.

They reached the top of the hill, the rain soaking Elain to the bone, her hair hanging damply around her face. The High Lord led her over to a small edge of rock, a cliff face with a steep drop before rolling hills flowed into the horizon.

This is where he stopped.

“What are you doing here, Elain?”

She could only stare at him, blankly.

“Pardon?” She was practically shouting over the rain.

Tamlin simply continued to look out, and for a moment, Elain was petrified that he was going to jump.

“If you know everything, if you know who I am - then why did you come.”

Elain could only stare blankly at him. There was no true reason she had come to Spring, she was merely following the path at her feet. In fact, if Lucien wasn’t needed in Spring she knew she would’ve never stepped foot across the border.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” It was the truth.

“You’ve come here to mock me?” He probed, turning to glare at her through the rain. In those green eyes Elain didn’t see a High Lord, she saw a sacred little boy.

”No.”

”You came to dangle in my face what I once wanted, what was once mine?”

Elain could only stare. Stare and stare until that very last tether within her broke.

She was tired. She was sopping. She was cold. She was alone. Her mate had left without a word. She’d worked herself to the point of exhaustion in those gardens, and it seemed to all be for nought. She didn’t understand her sisters. She didn’t understand her powers. She didn’t know how to help Vassa. She was a fraud. She wasn’t deserving of the life she had. None of it made sense and she felt so, so alone.

“She was never yours!” She bit out, feeling every inch of her body shake in frustration. “She was a prisoner and she died for you!”

Now it was Tamlin’s turn to stare blankly.

“You sat by as my sister lost everything…you sided with the enemy – you hurt Lucien! You-you…you’re the reason I went in the God-Damned Cauldron!”

There it was.

A stillness seemed to settle on the pair despite the world turning to chaos around them.

“Why did you come here?” Tamlin bit out.

I don’t know.

“Does she know you’re here?”

I don’t know.

“Is it him?”

Don’t cry. Don’t cry, you stupid girl.

“I…” don’t know.

“You…”

“I came here, Tamlin, for one very boring reason…” Elain turned to leave. Upset with him, upset with the world, and as she was walking away, all she could think was that she was no longer scared of him falling off the cliff. Not when she wanted to push him off it herself.

“…there is simply nothing else to do.”

***

Tag List: @jvwhyte @ladyelain @softfbangts1 @andwhataboutiit @mads39-blog1 @cinnamon-mentos @chloepereyra

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exquisitley-obsessed · 3 years

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Fiancés, Firebirds, Foxes & Fawns: 14B

Author: @exquisitley-obsessed

Pairings: Elain Archeron x Lucien Vanderra, Elucien

Warnings: None

THIS FIC’S MASTERIST

MY MASTERLIST

AO3

”I know what you’re doing.”

”Oh?” Elain hummed, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “I wasn’t aware I was doing anything.”

After dinner - if you could even call it that - Lucien had elected to show Elain his favourite spot of Spring Manor: the balcony looking over the back gardens, hidden away on the upper floors of the library.

And here they were. Practically opposite ends of the balcony, Elain clutching onto a threadbare blanket as the Spring sun had long set and a chilly night was creeping in.

“You’re going to play him like a common fiddle,” Lucien grinned at her, a few stray candles and the moon their only source of light.

“Don’t say that, it makes me sound like some mass manipulator. Besides, I haven’t done anything yet.”

“But you’re going to. You are going to put aside your ego just to pander to his?” Lucien probed, the curiosity about his mate set alight.

Elain’s brows furrowed as her nose scrunched.

”Of course…it’s what Tamlin needs. Rhysand, has too big of an ego when it comes to Tamlin, Nesta too. All they can do is butt heads with him…it’s too complicated and messy with Feyre…”

”You’ve known,” Lucien murmured, “This entire time you've known that Night was never going to get anywhere with Tamlin.”

”Anyone could’ve guessed that-”

”-but they didn’t.” Lucien said with some firmness. Elain seemed far too uncomfortable with taking a compliment for his liking. “You did.”

Elain’s saucer like eyes spun around to him, and once again seemed to peer right into his soul. She glared at him with an open curiosity.

”What is your point? Did you bring me here just to-“

”Compliment you? Acknowledge how clever you’re being. Not just clever but selfless, allowing yourself to seem less powerful than you really are just to pander to someone else’s ego. And all of this just because, what? You simply wish to see Spring Court prosper?”

”Is that so strange?” Elain huffed, defensively.

”Yes!” Lucien half-laughed.

Lucien was trying to compliment her, but by the way her shoulders were rigid and her mouth down turned, he couldn’t help but feel as though he’d failed miserably.

“Yes…” Lucien repeated, softer this time. Straightening up a little, Lucien allowed himself to drift a little closer as he spoke.

”The Spring Court has been falling for some time, long before Feyre or…Aramantha.” Lucien bit the name out. “Many others have noticed, spoke of it, have even shown a general care for wanting Spring to survive. But in all these hundreds of years there has been not one person who was willing to put aside their own pride, their own pain, in order to help…myself included.”

“Please don’t compliment me for something so…”

”What?”

”Undeserving.” Elain said with finality, her eyes sad. “What kind of world would that mean we’re living in?” She whispered, resting her arms on the balcony and peering down at the monstrous gardens. “Where simple kindness is praised like…like some kind of miracle?”

Lucien leaned on the balcony next to her, not allowing their skin to touch but rather basking in the warmth she radiated. That was enough. More than enough.

”If you hadn’t noticed…the world hasn’t been a very kind place, not for some time. When you’re fae, and you get to live as long as we do, it’s easy to forget the things that matter. Instead of kindness and geniality, things like power and politics give a false senses of warmth and gain…”

Lucien felt her eyes on him as he spoke. He begged his voice not to waver.

”Forgive me, Lady, if I find your attitudes…refreshing.”

Looking down at her was both thrilling and relaxing. It felt as though he had done it a thousand times before and yet, he wished to do it a million more.

There seemed to be a moment in which nothing happened at all. A perfect stillness which Lucien could’ve lived in forever, a painting turned life, and then her hand was reaching up and up, skirting across his chest and neck until resting against his cheek. Slowly, and with a painful softness, Elain traced the white webbed scars that covered half Lucien’s face.

”The world has not been kind to you,” she whispered, her voice a petal on the wind.

Lucien found himself leaning into the warmth of her hand, her fingers still tracing the river of agony mapped on his cheek for the world to see.

”Nor to you,” he murmured, “And yet you are kind…”

”And yet you laugh…” Elain whispered in response, “You joke, you quip, you make people relax. You make them feel good.”

Lucien shrugged, shivering slightly, though not from the bite in the air.

”People always can do with a good laugh…” Elain hummed softly in agreement.

Her fingers then softly traced the outline of his marred brow before drifting lower, and tracing the lid of his metal eye. The touch was so soft, so light, that Lucien wasn’t even sure he could feel her - he could merely sense her. Her smell, her touch, surrounding him and drowning him in the sweetest ecstasy.

Then, Elain yawned like a sleepy doe out too late, and the night came to a close.

”Right, bed Missy…we’ve got a big day of gardening ahead of us,” Lucien grinned down at her, before reaching down and pulling her blanket tighter around her.

”Mhm,” Elain hummed sleepily, and Lucien thought it might just be the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

“Want me to walk you back to your room?”

“No, it’s okay,” Elain yawned again as they moved back inside where it wasn’t much warmer. “I need to see Nuala still.”

”Ah, lucky shadow wraith,” Lucien hummed to hide his disappointment at not getting a few hallways more of her. “I guess then this is where I leave you for tonight.”

Lucien stopped in front of his door. The room that was decorated in Autumn - a reminder of a home lost in a home lost.

Elain paused in front of him, now seeming surprisingly shy after their day together.

It was the only downside of that damned kiss. Whilst perfect in every fathomable way, it left behind an even greater exaggeration of the distance between them. A single kiss could not make up for the fact that they were truly strangers, friends at most.

Sensing the awkward lilt in the conversation, Lucien found himself looking at his shoes - nervous and uncomfortable.

Then a soft hand rested on his arm as Elain stood on her top-toes and kissed his mutilated cheek.

”Goodnight…Lucien…” she said softly before turning and disappearing behind a corner. Her scent lingering in the air and his burning cheeks the only indication she had actually been there.

Touching his cheek, Lucien began to grin dumbly to the empty corridor.

”Goodnight…” He whispered to the moon and candles before disappearing into his burgundy room.

Such a lonesome room and painful reminder could not tear down his spirits, as he spent the night dreaming of baby deer running through Honeysuckle mountains, a crafty fox running alongside - following her wherever she went.

“You could help you know,” Elain huffed as she heaved a bag of compost into her wheelbarrow.

“It’s my day off,” Nuala grinned from where she was leaning against the shed door, assessing the ends of her silken hair.

”I didn’t know you got those,” Elain huffed as she began to push her way down the overgrown garden path to the corner she had begun working on.

”Rhysand has given me one day off a week as part of my new contract.”

”What a merciful and kind High Lord you have,” Elain let the barrow fall unceremoniously back to the ground as she used the back of her soil-stained hands to wipe her brow.

”Mhm…” Nuala hummed, sitting on a garden bench having followed Elain through the maze. “Speaking of merciful High Lords, what are we going to do about your room?”

“What room?” Elain retied her pinny. It was nearing mid-day and she had been up since dawn, unable to sleep on her thin mattress. As soon as the sky began to turn she dressed and disappeared into the garden.

She’d made manageable success, marking off several sections of the garden and beginning to draw a loose plan, listing several seeds she’d need for the process.

In terms of labour she had began hacking at the corner of Rose Bushes, cutting them down and adding the clippings to the wood pile for a fire tonight. She was now hoping to lie some fresh soil and compost on the beds that had dried out.

”Your room,” Nuala said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I helped you unpack, I know the conditions your living in…”

”…so?” Elain was glad for the work as it meant she didn’t have to meet her friend’s eye.

”So…that room is not fit for a prisoner, never mind a guest, never mind Elain Archeron, sister of the High Lady of Night, Cauldron-blessed seer.”

Elain rolled her eyes.

”You need to demand a better room.”

”No I don’t.”

”But-“

”But what?” Elain snapped. “Tamlin gave me that room and told me it’s practically the only one left standing.”

”It doesn’t even have running water-“

”And? Look around, Nuala.” Elain stood and gestured to the overgrown garden. “You think this place is in any kind of condition for me to start demanding canopied beds or velvet cushions? This place is suffering and therefore we must suffer too…Mother knows I’ve lived in worse.”

Flopping back to the ground Elain’s eyes stung with tears. She didn’t like arguing, much less arguing with a friend.

The silence turned pregnant as Elain worked and Nuala sat in silence. The sun was getting higher and higher in the sky and Elain could feel sweat running down her neck and back as she dug into the ground without mercy.

Just when Elain had forgot Nuala was even there, her friend wordlessly sunk next to her in the soil, and began to help her dig.

”I’m sorry,” Nuala murmured after working in silence for a few more minutes.

”It’s alright, I…understand, where you’re coming from.”

”Good,” Nuala hummed, not meeting her eye, “Because…whilst it is admirable, your kindness…you cannot let it become a weakness-“

”But-“

“Listen,” Nuala whispered suddenly, turning to look at Elain with wide, scared eyes. “You may think the High Lord gave you that room for no reason but I think otherwise. You seek the best in people but sometimes people are horrid, and simply ugly. I fear the High Lord is not what you think he is.”

”I know what he is,” Elain whispered back, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

”Then you must remind yourself, every day, of what he has done, and what he can still do…”

Elain had nothing to say to that, and as Nuala’s wide, frightened eyes continued to stare down at her soul, she could merely nod.

”I’ll…keep my eye out…”

”Good,” Nuala turned back to the soil. “Remind yourself every day, we’re in enemy territory, trust nothing and no one, expect the worst of people, always, and…”

”And…” Elain probed, now drawn in by the intensity of her friend’s warning.

”And…” Nuala sighed, rubbing her hands on her trousers, “Tell Tamlin nothing of your powers.”

”Why-“

”He doesn’t know,” Nuala turned with wide, imploring eyes. “No one does outside the inner circle and select personnel. Rhysand has gone to great lengths to keep your powers a secret.”

”Again I find myself asking - why?” Elain stood with Nuala, the gardening now long forgotten.

The shadow-wraith turned and looked at her friend with a mix of worry and pity.

”You really have no idea what your powers mean. The price it puts on your head.” Elain found herself shrugging. “There are people - High Lords included - that would kill to have you. That would want nothing more than a Cauldron-blessed Seer chained to their throne.”

”I’m not that impressive.”

“You have no idea what your powers mean, the significance of a Seer appearing in this age. There have only been three before you, all wildly different in their ability.”

”Who were they?”

”That’s all we know. You need to research in the Courts they came from to find out more.”

”And those courts are?”

”First is Day, should be easy enough to access their libraries.”

”We need to go there anyways. Second?”

”Autumn.”

”Ah,” Elain paused, plucking a weed from the pathway.

“You can see how that might prove more difficult.” Nuala’s shadows began to curl around her.

”Yes, that one will need put on a backbench. Which Court’s the third?”

In the distance a beast roared from deep within the forest. Nuala turned to the sound with wide, scared eyes before her head snapped back around, her shadows growing more and more disturbed.

”Spring. The last known seer came from Spring.”

***

Tag List: @jvwhyte @ladyelain @softfbangts1 @andwhataboutiit @mads39-blog1 @cinnamon-mentos @chloepereyra

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exquisitley-obsessed · 3 years

Note

Will you be updating on Fiancés, Firebirds, Foxes and Fawn?!?! You can't started something that good and not finish it! HAHA

Thank you so much!! I’m blushinggg. I’m happy to say I just posted the next chapter and the next one will be up very soon!!!

Im back baby!!!

#lovely asks

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exquisitley-obsessed · 3 years

Note

Hey! It's totally okay if not, but I was just wondering if you are going to finish Fiances, Firebirds, Foxes, and Fawn. It's really good and I just want to see what else you have in store for Elain and Lucien!

Very excited to announce that I’m coming back to this story! After a mini hiatus I’m back and have big things in store! I don’t want to drop any spoilers but I have everything planned out and should be back to posting semi-regularly!!

#lovely asks

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exquisitley-obsessed · 3 years

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Fiancé’s, Firebirds, Foxes and Fawns: 14A

Author: exquisitely-obsessed

Pairings: Elain Archeron x Lucien Vanderra, Elucien

Warnings: None

THIS FIC’S MASTERIST

MY MASTERLIST

AO3

Chapter Fourteen: Tamlin

Tamlin wouldn’t stop staring. Whatever Elain did, wherever she went, she felt his eyes like pinpricks digging into her skin. Following her, taunting her – daring her. If she were any less kind she would’ve snapped at him, but she was kind, and she was also smart. If she had caught Tamlin’s attention then perhaps in there lay a crook to be exploited, a way of manipulating the High Lord into the negotiations which had been thus far unsuccessful.

The High Lord in question had dragged the mated pair around the Spring Ground in a rather tired, half-hearted manner, though this seemed to be because he kept getting distracted by the Archeron sister. Elain had found that she couldn’t be interested in the endless flower beds, antique trophy cases, or shredded paintings and hallmarks of neglect when the High Lord’s attention felt so hot.

“We best be shown to our sleeping quarters,” Lucien grunted at some point, stalking lazily around the house that had once been his own – the house he was now being toured around as a guest.

“I thought you’d be at home in your old room, it has been largely left untouched in the damages.” The damages being Tamlin’s claws and beastly behaviour. Lucien coughed a little.

“For me, yes…though Elain will be needing her separate chambers.”

This seemed to be the first thing, besides Elain herself, that seemed to catch Tamlin’s attention. He paused in his step as his sight zoned in on his old friend, his glare enigmatic. Elain’s fingers twitched nervously as the two males appeared in some kind of silent conversation. Tamlin humoured and inquisitive, Lucien guarded and dark. Eventually, the High Lord let out several pearls of rich, handsome laughter.

“Of course, my apologies.” A flicker of something went across Lucien’s features, but he seemed to miraculously bite his tongue. Tamlin proceeded to guide the pair up the stairs before bringing Lucien to a russet door.

“You should know your way from here,” Tamlin grinned in a courtly manner, “If the lady would follow me…”

Elain glanced up at Lucien who was now glaring at Tamlin without restraint. His muscles appeared to be standing on end and, brushing up against the bond, Elain felt the raw protectiveness radiating from him. They were in what Lucien deemed to be dangerous territory and she was under his protection – it was both alarming, and comforting, to feel how much someone wanted her to be safe. Unable to stop herself, Elain reached up and placed a kiss on Lucien’s cheek, snapping his attention to her immediately.

“I’ll come find you…for dinner.”

Lucien’s returning look was fierce and deep, as though his eyes had turned into molten gold, it seemed to melt the world away and for a moment, Elain forgot Tamlin was even there. Lucien’s response was a curt, sharp nod and one last glare at his old friend before he turned and disappeared behind his door.

Elain couldn’t help but stare at the door long after it was shut. Even she couldn’t deny that every inch of her skin was screaming at her to follow him inside, to stay close and keep him in sight. He’d been so worried about her safety, but she was just as worried about him.

“Malady…” Tamlin’s gravelly voice pulled her back to reality and she turned back to the High Lord, now acutely aware of the fact they were alone, together. He’d never truly do anything to harm her, Elain knew that if he did, he would be signing his death sentence. However, that did not stop him from creeping her out, seemingly on purpose.

Tamlin proceeded to guide her deeper and deeper into the home, appearing to pull her down several unnecessary twists and turns till eventually, he came to an abrupt stop in front of a dusty door in which no light could reach at the back of the house.

“This room has been untouched, though, I am sorry it is so far from the rest of the house.”

“It’s quite alright,” Elain managed to slip her courtly smile onto her face with ease.

“Though my room is just down the hall…should you need anything.”

“Oh? It’s quite away from the entry. I would’ve thought the High Lord’s quarters would be more central,” Elain couldn’t stop the words as they fell from her mouth. This corridor was drowning in cobwebs and undisturbed dust which told Elain that there had not been anything living in these quarters for quite some time. Surely if Tamlin’s room were nearby, there would be some evidence of life.

“Ah, you’ve caught me,” Tamlin gave her a smile that looked a borderline grimace, “It’s my current room, given that I tend to…go through them at quite a pace.”

“Oh…”

“Oh indeed,” Tamlin husked, and an involuntary shiver ran the length of Elain’s spine. This didn’t go unnoticed by the beast, though from the way his eyes seemed to darken, he must have misinterpreted its cause entirely. “As I said, my room is right down the hall, should you need anything.”

“Thank you, though I’m sure I already have everything I need for my visit,” Elain said in her most polite, unfeeling voice possible. Reaching for the bond between her ribs, she took an imaginary forefinger and thumb and clamped down on her end. She didn’t need Lucien picking up on her terrified and uncomfortable emotions and doing something entirely stupid.

Not allowing Tamlin another word Elain opened the door and practically jumped inside, making sure to close the door behind her and lean against it. Listening intently over the sound of her racing heart, Elain heard Tamlin waiting for several long moments outside her room and then, if she were not mistaken, he seemed to smell the air, deeply.

Another shiver ran the length of her spine when she realised he was taking note of her scent, marking her down like an animal. After several moments of tense stillness, the beast moved on, his heavy steps disappearing down the corridor before another door swung open and shut.

Sighing heavily, Elain unclamped the bond and peered around her room.

It was a terrible room. There was about an inch of dust that told Elain that even when the Manor was full of life this room did not receive much tending to. Elain could see why. The walls were made of bare wood and the bed was tiny, barely wide enough to fit a child with a thin mattress and metal frame. There were no hallmarks of comfort, no bookshelves or cabinets. Just a bed and a small chest of drawers beside it with two of the five drawers missing. There were no oil lamps or candles, no mirrors, no quilts or thick blankets, only linen sheets strewn over the stained mattress. There wasn’t even a bathroom, just a suspicious chamber pot in the corner. The window was barely a window, more of a small hole cut right underneath the ceiling, too high up for Elain to even see out of, even if she stood on the bed.

There was nothing in this room. No life, no love, no comfort – just like its owners. With a snort of disbelief, Elain realised that she had had more comfort in the shoddy room of their old cottage. At least there she’d had knitted blankets and a bathroom, even Feyre’s little paintings at given some life to the room.

This was a prison cell, a punishment – for what, Elain had no idea.

***

Grovelling a little, Lucien made his way to the old study room, the room which Tamlin and he had spent every evening for the better part of fifty years. After dinner, this is where they’d make their way, to sit in the now destroyed velvet armchairs with glasses of whiskey and a card game or two.

It’s seemed ludicrous to him now, how he had managed so many consecutive nights believing Tamlin to be his truest, closest friend. How things had changed. How they had changed.

Throwing himself in a surviving chair Lucien allowed his mask to slip a little as he ran his hands down his face. His life had been so crazy since Feyre walked into these halls. Going under the mountain, finding the Night Court and Velaris, scrying all the lands for a Firebird Queen only to lead her into war.

Everything was crazy and fast-paced but Spring…Spring hurt more than the rest. It was dying, in front of his eyes, the Court he had considered his first true home. Everything that had once been so simple – his friendship with Tamlin, the safety of Spring citizens – were now messily complicated.

Lucien didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know how to fix this.

“Please tell me you’re not already moping about.” A soft voice echoed from behind him, and despite the oceans of agony raging within him, Lucien couldn’t help but smile.

“Actually, I am, and you’re ruining my theatrics,” Lucien turned to smile at her.

“Oh, sorry,” Elain grinned as she padded into the room and settled in the chair across from him, her eyes roving over the claw marked walls and shredded paintings. “Nuala’s just arrived with some bags that she’s unpacking upstairs.”

“Good,” Lucien nodded before silence settled between them.

“Where’s…” Elain began half-heartedly.

“God knows,” Lucien said with a flash of anger, “His scent leads out into the woods and if I listen I can hear him thundering around out there.”

“Doing what?”

“Good question,” Lucien rested his right ankle on his left knee, “Either he’s catching our dinner or brooding…maybe a bit of both.”

Elain merely hummed non-committedly in response. Maybe it was a good thing Tamlin had left the grounds, if Lucien had learnt anything it was that he and Elain did best when they were alone.

“This is my first time here,” Elain hummed, “It’s strange.”

“How so?”

“I’m not sure…I want to say it’s strange how different life could’ve been if Feyre had never killed your friend, or if Tamlin had taken Nesta or me as payment rather than Feyre…”

“But…”

“But…some part of me knows it’s always supposed to have played out this way. That Feyre coming here was her destiny, as well as everything that happened as a result.”

Lucien looked at his seer mate, drinking her in as he so often did. He did not think it strange that she was perhaps more in touch with the fabric of fate given that the Cauldron had blessed her with a gift only three before in the history of Prythian had possessed.

Looking at his Elain in these halls unsettled Lucien. She was right – how different things could’ve been if she had come over the wall instead of Feyre. The rest of the world would’ve been damned, but Lucien would’ve had a chance to know her whilst she was a human…whilst she was happy.

“Lucien…” Elain eventually whispered, pulling him from his thoughts. “We need to save this place…before we lose it forever.”

“I agree. But…”

“But what?”

“I don’t know…part of me wonders if we can ever save spring while Tamlin remains as High Lord, there’s an argument that it might be better just to start fresh, indite someone new.”

“Who?”

“That’s where my plan falters…” Lucien sighed rubbing the back of his neck. “There are no obvious candidates, and the suggestion that we could just make someone the new High Lord is flawed.”

“How so?”

“Being a High Lord is left up to fate, you don’t get a choice. We can generally guess who will be indited within the blood relation but there have been several surprises – the youngest son or a distant cousin inheriting the title. Either way, we can’t just shove the crown on someone’s head and call it a day…Tamlin would have to be…”

“…killed?” Elain’s eyes widened. Lucien just grimaced, he may have fallen out with his friend, but he didn’t want to see him dead. What a waste that would be.

“No matter what Tamlin has done in the past, I’m not sure there is anyone who truly wants to see him dead.”

“I’m sure Nesta wouldn’t mind.” Lucien grinned.

“Nesta has an alphabetical list of people she wouldn’t mind killing herself…I’m pretty sure I’m on there.” Elain rolled her eyes, smiling.

“You know what I think?” She whispered after a beat of silence.

“What?”

“I think Tamlin just needs to step up,” Elain said as she stood, looking around the ruined room in a way that reminded Lucien of a mother’s gaze. “He needs to accept what happened with Feyre and move on, he needs to pull himself together, accept that he made mistakes and begin to rebuild.”

“I think that’s easier said than done,” Lucien’s eyes followed his mate as she circled the room.

“Well of course it is. These things take time, they take patience and they also-” Elain bent as she pushed a cabinet that was teetering back to the upright position “-take support. Tamlin can rebuild, he can be a High Lord, he has so much potential, he just…can’t do it alone.”

“You understand this is Tamlin who we're talking about?” Lucien stood making his way over the Elain and righting a painting as he passed. “The man who sat by Aramantha as your sister died at her feet.” Seeing Elain flinch made him regret his words, but they were true.

“You don’t need to remind me of what Tamlin has done. I know better than anyone of his sins. He’s partially the reason I got thrown into the Cauldron - if you remember.”

Of course, Lucien remembered, he could never forget.

“So am I,” was all he could say in response, his voice strained and tortured. This was another topic that was unspoken between them - what had truly happened on that night. Lucien had never forgotten her words to him in the House of Wind’s library, just a few months after. How at that time, she knew him only as of the male who was there when she died, standing beside the man she knew to be her sister’s abuser.

“No, Lucien-” Elain began softly.

“Don’t,” Lucien whispered, “Please don’t try and act as though that night was nothing, as though I wasn’t standing on the side of the enemy.”

“No, I…I’m not trying to take that away or ignore it I just…” Lucien eyed his mate as her brows furrowed in thought. “Lucien…there’s not a part of me that doubts for a second that if you knew what was going to happen that night then you would’ve done everything in your power to stop it.”

“I could’ve guessed-”

“Of course you couldn’t have guessed.” Elain practically snapped at him, but with no malice, only steely determination. “What Ianthe did was not your fault. What Hybern did is not your responsibility. There was the most powerful High Lord in History, my Cursebreaker sister, two Caryinthian-tier Illyrian warriors and The Morrigan in the room that night and not even their powers combined was enough to stop me from going under. I don’t want you to take that guilt onto your shoulders, for one you have enough on your plate already and for another, there is simply no need.”

Lucien had decided that he liked seeing Elain away from the rest of her family. For some reason, out here in another court, by herself, she seemed stronger, full of more determination and zest. He would’ve never dreamed that the quiet gardener-Elain would’ve ever spoken to him with such resolve.

“What about in the library…the first time we spoke…” Elain’s eyes glazed over a little as she seemed to try and remember such a conversation. “Do you not remember?” Lucien asked after a beat.

“It’s…hazy…everything in those first few months is. I’m sorry…if I said anything mean.”

“No…you only spoke of the truth…you told me how it was,” Lucien looked out the room at the Spring Sun that was now making a steady yet sure decline towards the horizon. A week. A week they were going to spend here. “It’s the moment when I decided that my allegiance was no longer to Tamlin or even your sister or her husband…my allegiance is to you, and you alone.”

Elain’s breath hitched a little, and if he wasn’t mistaken her eyes seemed to flicker down to his lips for the briefest of moments.

“I didn’t realise…” Elain merely murmured.

“Well, it’s an allegiance that has been thus far performed over distance,” Lucien crinkled his nose, all too aware that he was throwing himself at Elain’s feet after two years of silence.

Elain giggled, her hand coming to press against her lips.

“Are you laughing at me?” Lucien raised his eyebrow playfully. Elain only smiled wider, and Lucien once more felt himself enter a trance in which he was astounded by her beauty.

“I like your smile,” he said after several moments, his eyes softening with the warmth in his chest, “All one of them that I’ve seen.”

“I like my smile too,” Elain said before scrunching up her face, “No! Not like that, I’m not…hang on,” Happiness and amusement bubbled in Lucien’s chest as he observed Elain stumble on her words. “I mean as in, I’ve been smiling less, since the Cauldron and it’s…nice, to be smiling, again.” Elain closed one eye, scrunched up her nose and peered at him.

“You know,” Lucien found himself easing into his cocky courtier’s poise, the one that usually came to naturally to him. “I think that might be the first thing we’ve agreed on.”

In this distance a beast turned back into a man and with a fresh deer hung over his shoulder, he made his way home for dinner.

***

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