#Elucien FanFiction

[teddyhoneybear]

What if Elain has to hold in the urge to bake cinnamon rolls everytime Lucien visits, because his scent reminds her of them, only to find herself in the kitchen anyway, kneading dough while cursing him.

Then she keeps smelling them addictively, her little nose covered in frosting, while imagining it's him. 🥹

#don't mind me #i'm so soft for them #cinnamon girl #elain archeron #acotar #lucien vanserra #elucien #pro elucien #pro elain #pro lucien vanserra #elain x lucien #acotar elain #lucien and elain #lucien x elain #elain acotar #elucien fanfiction #lucien acotar #acotar series #fated mates #mating bond #mates #cinnamon roll #elain and lucien #pro elain archeron

[the-lonelybarricade]

Breaking & Entering - (1/2)

Summary: Before the room was swallowed into darkness, she found her eyes drifting towards the entryway, listening to the heartbeat that drifted to her through the wooden door. It followed her all the way to the House of Wind. And in her sleep that night, the beating stopped.

Or; A slightly angsty telling of how Elain discovered that Lucien sleeps naked

Read on AO3・ Part II

-

Being a seer was not without its complications.

In fact, Elain would argue that being a seer consisted only of complications. Of muddled thoughts, and twisted, tangled truths that she could spend a lifetime unweaving and still not fully comprehend.

But worst of all was the blurry line she walked between reality and prophecy. One moment, she was sipping her tea at the breakfast table, and the next she was standing in a busy marketplace, uncertain which was the illusion until she was vaulted back into her physical body, blinking as her heart settled and her vision returned.

“Elain?”

Feyre leaned over the table, palms pressed into the dark wood, hovering as close to Elain as the barrier would allow. From the thin line forming between Feyre’s brows, Elain had the impression this was not the first time Feyre had called for her.

“Yes?” Elain said, straightening her back and lifting her teacup as if nothing had happened.

Feyre’s shoulders slackened, and she drew back into her seat with a small sigh of relief. But Elain knew that after the concerned sister, came the curious High Lady. She watched, face still ducked into her teacup, as Feyre pressed her lips together, thinking so loudly she might as well have used her magic to project her thoughts. Not that it mattered, not when her questions were obvious, and already evident in the way those blue-grey eyes searched her face.

Tea sloshed against Elain’s lips, uncontrolled, inelegant. Her hand was shaking. Though the vision had been mild, even pleasant, compared to others, that flash of red hair had unnerved her. The way it always did.

She set the teacup down, ignoring how it rattled against the saucer. How Feyre flinched.

“Lucien’s on his way,” Elain said, fighting to keep her voice neutral.

A knock sounded at the door, cutting off Feyre’s response. Elain patted her lip with the napkin, skin tingling from the too-hot liquid, and stood up from her chair. “Before you answer, would you mind taking me to the House of Wind?”

“You’re not even going to say hi?”

There was an accusation in that question. Subtle, even a little gentle, but an accusation nonetheless. Elain crossed her arms, as if doing so could deflect from her sister’s judgment. She knew what Feyre wanted—for Elain to stay, to make nice with Lucien and ask him about his latest trip to the mortal lands. She wanted Elain to get to know the male she was eternally bonded to so that they might one day find the happiness that Feyre and Rhysand found in each other. Even Nesta seemed to be encouraging it these days.

“He doesn’t need to know I was here,” Elain said. “Besides, he’s come to see you.”

Feyre raised a brow. If there was sharpness in those words, Elain hadn’t meant them. Or maybe she had. She was frustrated that her sisters had already made up their minds about what was best for her, and that despite the agency she craved, she couldn’t even flee to the House of Wind without Feyre’s help.

They stared at each other for a long moment, a clash of stubbornness that was sometimes the only thing that connected them.

“Fine,” Feyre said, coming around the table and reaching out her hand. “But you should try talking to him one of these days, Elain. He’s a good male.”

He was a good male. Elain knew that perfectly well. And before the room was swallowed into darkness, she found her eyes drifting towards the entryway, listening to the heartbeat that drifted to her through the wooden door.

It followed her all the way to the House of Wind.

And in her sleep that night, the beating stopped.

Elain sat up in bed, clutching her chest. Beneath her clammy skin, she could feel her own heart thundering beneath her fingers. But its golden echo, the one she felt like a string around her rib, plucked day and night by a tireless musician… It had fallen silent.

A dream, she thought. A vision. Any moment now, she’d blink and find herself sitting in the library, wondering at the Cauldron’s strange meaning. But as she laid on her back and watched a dark cloud slowly creep across the starry sky, she felt the seconds prying for her attention with growing urgency. And suddenly she couldn’t breath as a terrible, gnawing panic seized her throat. The next thing she knew, she was rushing through the corridors of the House of Wind, hair and nightgown flowing behind her.

He answered the door on the first knock. She knew he wouldn’t be sleeping, even at this hour.

“Elain?” Azriel asked, hazel eyes sweeping over her, assessing if her panic was the result of any injury on her person. “What’s wrong?”

Ordinarily, she might have taken the time to be embarrassed by her state of undress. But all she could hear was the silence in her mind. The vast, roaring emptiness that was usually occupied by life and light.

Elain took a moment to compose herself, trying to swallow past the sickening feeling in her gut, but the words all escaped in a rush regardless of her efforts. “Can you take me down?”

“What?”

“Downstairs,” she clarified. “To the Rainbow.”

His gaze darted to the ground. To her bare feet. “Dressed like that?”

“Please,” was all she said.

Azriel didn’t press any further. He simply led her to the nearest balcony and did precisely as she asked, hesitating only once they landed in the empty marketplace, and she shivered when he set her down on the cobblestone. He removed his jacket, and the evening was cold enough that Elain didn’t object when he placed it over her shoulders.

But she did shake her head as he said, “Whatever you’re doing, let me come with you. To make sure you’re safe.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said, pulling the jacket closer when she noticed the way his eyes wandered to her neckline. Maybe he was concerned by the attention her attire would attract, a fear she might have shared if Lucien’s apartment wasn’t just across the street. And she had a feeling that regardless of what she said to Azriel, he’d be lingering to ensure nothing happened to her.

“I’ll stay here, then” Azriel said. “So that I can bring you back up when you’re ready.”

Sensing that was the most she could convince Azriel to stay out of it, and not wanting to waste any more time arguing, Elain nodded and dashed off toward Lucien’s apartment. A place she’d never visited before, though she’d seen it in enough visions to recognize the stepping stones of the front garden as if she’d been the one to arrange them.

Of all the times she’d thought about coming here, of bracing her hand around the iron knocker and letting fall to the front door, she’d never imagined it would be the middle of the night. And that the knocker would bounce once, twice, until it vibrated into stillness. No shuffle on the other side, no footsteps. No answer at all.

In all her imaginings, she’d certainly never thought that she would need to sneak into his back garden and mount the trellis to his balcony, battling against the climbing roses that snagged at her dressing gown. She hissed as more than a few scraped against her legs, as if the garden were fighting back against its intruder.

“Lucien?” She called as she came level with his balcony. Leaning over, she could see no light in his room, and it occurred to her that she could be reading too much into the quiet. He could just be sleeping, and maybe his heartbeat quieted when he slept and she’d simply never noticed. This was her last chance to turn away without looking like a lunatic.

Lucien? She tried, searching internally for the kernel of light that lived inside her, warm and lovely and achingly absent. There was no response. No stirrings at all on the other side of their muted bond. She grasped, helplessly, for something to pull, for the golden thread he’d once tugged all those years ago. When she found nothing, she pulled herself onto his balcony and yanked on the handle to his bedroom.

Locked.

Through the glass, she could see his red hair against the pillows. His face was turned toward her, eyes shut, expression so soft and unguarded she barely recognized him. Elain stilled for a minute, the ache in her chest growing tenfold as she admired the sight of Lucien polished in moonlight.

She rapped her knuckles against the glass. First, with all of the bashfulness of someone who expected his eyes to snap open, where she would need to explain what she was doing on his balcony, undressed and bloodied. Then, with increasing urgency as his eyes remained shut, oblivious to her panicked fists slamming against the glass door not a meter away.

If she’d let Azriel come with, he would have known what to do. And perhaps he would have come up with a far less destructive solution than Elain, who turned to examine the items Lucien kept on his balcony and found a small potted plant that she immediately hurled towards the door. Any faerie would have woken to the sound of the shattering glass. Even one having a particularly nice dream.

His neighbors might even be awake now, coming to their windows to watch Elain push her arm through the jagged hole and unlock the door from the inside. Maybe tomorrow there’d be news articles about Velaris’s new, sloppy midnight burglar. As long as tomorrow’s news was about her, and not the deceased son of Autumn, she didn’t care.

She didn’t care even as the glass cut into her feet, not as Lucien remained unresponsive to it all. Unaware of his intruder. Unaware that his mate was bleeding and panicked and desperate. It was all wrong. Something was horribly, horribly wrong.

“Lucien?” She called, his name strangled in her throat.

In her mortal life, she might have cared about dripping blood onto his sheets, or how she was climbing into a male’s bed in only her night gown. But now she was High Fae and this was her mate—her mate. And all that mattered was getting to him.

Elain cupped his face, nearly sobbing when she felt that it was warm to the touch. Warm. Not claimed by death—not yet. And his lips were parted, expelling air with every rise and fall of his chest. Alive, alive, alive.

Despite the evidence, when Elain pressed her fingers to the pulsepoint on his neck, she was surprised to find a heartbeat as familiar as her own. Steady, healthy, yet still absent from where it once resided in her mind. And he still wasn't awake.

Was it magic? Some kind of spell, or poison? Without thinking, she ripped the bedcovers from his body to see if there was some ailment she was missing. A bite wound, or an arrow puncture, or…. Lucien’s uninjured, perfectly healthy, and obscenely muscular naked body.

Elain yelped, immediately covering him back up. “I’m so sorry,” she said, though he couldn’t hear and was unaware of the violation she’d just committed.

It was then that her eyes wandered toward his bedside table, bearing all the things she would expect from Lucien: a pile of books with loose papers atop them, a leatherbound journal, a dagger with a jeweled hilt, and… a small, empty vial labeled sleeping tonic.

She recalled the vision she’d had that morning, of Lucien navigating his way through the busy marketplace. How he’d paused before a tonic shop, intrigued by their wares. She hadn’t thought anything of it, besides that it meant Lucien had returned to the city. And now she examined the glass shards littering his bedroom floor, the soil spilling out of the broken plant pot, the blood on the floor, the sheets—oh god, it was on his face, too.

“Elain?”

She turned her head, finding Azriel standing on the balcony, looking far more concerned for the state she was in than the unconscious male beneath her.

“Is everything okay?” he prompted.

What did she even say, to answer for all of the reckless, impulsive things she’d done this evening?

All she could do was point to the vial and croak, “The tonic he bought at the shop… will it wear off?”

Azriel squinted through the glass to read the label, then huffed a laugh under his breath, as if he was familiar. “Those tonics will leave you all but dead to the world. The last time I took one, I woke up with a mustache painted on my face.”

That certainly sounded like something his friends would do. Elain couldn’t bring herself to laugh. “So he’ll be okay?”

“He’ll be fine. I can’t say the same for his balcony door, though.”

Elain’s cheeks burned. “Will you take me back? And forget this ever happened?”

The shadowsinger watched her carefully. “Of course. It can be our secret.”

Azriel kept a lot of those. She trusted he would keep this one, at least from Lucien, but even so she couldn’t find it in herself to meet his eyes as he stepped into Lucien’s apartment and lifted Elain from her mate’s bed. They flew back to the house in silence, the stinging in her feet becoming more and more intrusive as her adrenaline wore off.

“Let me take you to the infirmary,” he said once they landed on one of the many verandas.

“No.”

“Elain—”

“No.” She didn’t mean to snap. In truth, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d use that tone with anyone. She took a deep breath, reminding herself that Azriel was only trying to help. That he’d been indulging her foolish impulses all evening, expecting nothing in return. “Just take me back to my room, please. I can deal with it.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened. He said nothing, but he did as she asked.

Only once he left, and she heard his door shut down the hall, did she release her hold on the tears that she’d been repressing from the moment she realized Lucien was okay. Picking the leftover pieces of glass from her feet was preferable to anguishing over the fool she made of herself tonight, though she managed to do both.

What had gotten into her? She’d always felt a measure of the instincts that came with the bond. The pull, the wanting, the need to claim and protect. But they had always been passive, easily brushed aside. What she’d felt tonight had gripped her with such violence that she’d been blinded to everything else, any sense of reason or reservation. What would Lucien think when he woke in the morning and saw that someone had broken into his home? And how would she be able to look him in the eyes, now that his naked form was imprinted in her mind, lingering no matter how she tried to banish it. It was wrong. It was stolen. It was… making the ache feel raw again.

Worst of all, despite Azriel’s assurance that Lucien was unharmed by the tonic, she found she couldn’t go to sleep while his side of the bond remained a torment of nothingness. She turned over restlessly throughout the night, replaying it all in her head, torturing herself with the anxious thought that maybe Azriel was wrong. Maybe the tonic wouldn’t wear off, and her mate was in danger. She should have stayed, at least until she knew he was okay.

Lucien would have stayed.

That thought, more than anything, kept her awake. Kept her debating all night whether she should face the ten thousand steps just to break into his house again. It was only the cuts on her feet, and her own shame at explaining to Lucien how much she overreacted, that kept her in bed, turning restlessly.

It wasn't until the sun came up that the familiar metronome of his heartbeat returned.

And by the relief of its steady, soothing rhythm, Elain was finally able to fall asleep.

#Elucien #Elucien fic #Elucien fanfic #Elucien fanfiction #Maybe I can be pursuaded to write a second chapter #Elain x Lucien #Lucien x Elain

[elucienweekofficial]

New year, same us 🎉

🎨: @laxibbeb

#elucien fanfiction #elucien fanart #elucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra

[crazy-ache]

Dear Lucien, Dear Elain: An Epistolary Fic (Coming Soon)

Title: Dear Lucien, Dear Elain: An Epistolary Fic Rating: M Summary:

“Perhaps you can speak them to me, if you so wish. I apologize if that is too forward, but I yearn to know you beyond simple pleasantries. 

Yours truly,

Lucien

P.S. My lady, your secrets are always safe with me.” 

Epistolary (adj., of a literary work) in the form of letters. After the winter solstice in ACOSF, Elain and Lucien exchange letters as a means to get to know each other away from prying eyes. This fic is a collection of those letters.

Author’s Note: This fic was written between me (crazy-ache) and @zenkindoflove. We each selected a character (you’ll have to guess who though) and then wrote back and forth, pen-pal style. We've been working on our first collab together for a few weeks now and wanted to share a small preview of what's coming soon for our multichapter piece made entirely of letters...

If you want to be added to our tag list, drop it in the comments!

#elucien #pro elucien #elain x lucien #lucien vanserra #elucien fanfiction #elucien fanfic #elucien letters #regency vibes #elucien fic #elain archeron #elucien supremacy #we are so excited about this collab #elucien moodboard #epistolary fanfic

[zenkindoflove]

Kneel Before Me - Elucien Oneshot

Title: Kneel Before Me

Relationship: Elain x Lucien; Elucien

Rating: E, NSFW

Status: One-shot, ~11,000 words

Summary: Lucien arrives at the House of Wind, only to be drawn into a sparring match with none other than the Inner Circle's own Shadowsinger. Things get out of hand and Azriel discovers whether he really can defeat Lucien easily.

READ ON AO3

A/N: This one-shot has been turning around in my head for a long time now. Was I heavily inspired to take a stab at this after watching Dune Part Two? Absolutely. Was I also motivated because I'm tired of this fandom thinking that Azriel actually could take on Lucien in a fight. You betcha. Hence, this idea was born.

Please read the tags. You have been warned. If you are a big Azriel fan, this fic is probably not for you. So read at your own risk. This one is for my lovely underdog, Lucien, and all the Lucien girlies who know what's up.

Sneak peak under the cut

“You didn't think we’d end there, did you?" Azriel bounced on his toes. “We need to show Nesta how the Autumn Court fighting style handles hand-to-hand combat."

His words almost sounded helpful, but all Lucien could hear in his tone was pure aggression.

Lucien shook his head. This was too far for him. He didn’t want anything to do with this. It reminded him of the games that his brothers used to play in Autumn. Azriel was clearly trying to goad him, if not into a real fight, close enough to one to humiliate him in some way.

“I don’t think so. The point was made. Nesta has seen what she needs to for now.” He threw his sparring sword to the side, turning his back to Azriel to exit the ring.

“I knew you were a coward,” Azriel called out to him.

Lucien froze, his shoulders raising as his rage crawled up his spine. He could see the faces of the others, their eyes widening at Azriel’s taunt. Elain’s face especially looked confused and apprehensive. She flicked her gaze to him, and it hurt him to see the worry in her delicate features.

Lucien rolled his shoulders before he turned to face Azriel again. If the Shadowsinger wanted a war with words, Lucien would happily oblige him.

“Coward? Interesting. I didn’t see you jumping to volunteer to go to the continent when we were at war.”

“You’re right. Instead, I was here. Saving your mate from Hybern.”

Lucien instinctually balled his fists. It was a weak spot, and Azriel knew it. As soon as Lucien heard what happened to Elain when he was on the continent, he immediately regretted leaving her. It prompted him to hang out in Velaris those first few months after the war, before it all became too unbearable, and it was clear Elain was safe.

“I never did thank you for that,” Lucien replied, schooling his features. Never let them see how their words affect you. It was a lesson he learned long ago. “So, thank you, Azriel, for keeping Elain safe.”

“My pleasure,” Azriel darkened his eyes. “It’s a good thing I was around. I’ve always been here for her.”

#elucien #anti-azriel #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #pro elucien #elain x lucien #anti e/riel #elucien fanfiction #azriel is humbled #lucien had bde #and a big dick

[bettdraws]

In an alternate universe where Elain met Lucien before becoming fae

(an Elucien daydream)

“I would like to show you my estate, Lady Elain” The young Lord Graysen said and brought back her attention to the present moment. “I heard you like nature, would you like me to escort you?”

Elain took a little moment to ponder on what he was saying, her gloved hands resting on his forearm, his face open and waiting for her response, even if through the glimmer in his eye she could tell he already knew she would say yes to him. The man courting her was used to women bending themselves for his affections, constantly trying to make him like them, be the ones holding the key to his affection. And the gods knew she used to also feel that way, like she was special when she was the one those eyes were fixated upon. Lately, she realized, it did not matter as much as it did before.

Elain nodded and smiled as he guided her through the lands on his estate, she was not going to miss the opportunity either way. It was true, she did love nature and she did not have an abundance of opportunities to wander around places like these in her day to day life.

“These lands are very close to the wall, but worry not, they are very safe thanks to our sentries patrolling night and day” Graysen proudly announced. She glanced towards the thick folliage of the woods next to them. So inviting.

“Is it the same for those woods?” She asked pointing to the forest curiously.

“Yes, if we don’t stray too far from the manor, they’re as safe as can be” He said matter-of-factly. “Would you like to see?”

Elain nodded immediately and with a slight bow he directed her through one of the paths into the green thick forest.

Elain wondered if she should take his word for it as they walked further and further into the blooming nature, but any lingering reservations she may have was replaced with the allure of the mystical beauty of the woods, making her question what more exotic things could be found at the other side of the wall he had mentioned. A little nudge she felt in her chest made her curious about the things that her sister Feyre had once spoken about to Nesta, wonder if perhaps she hadn’t yet seen true beauty at this side of the world.

“Have you ever seen a fae?” That curiosity led her to ask her companion, his face incredulous for a moment and a bit irritated too.

“I- No” He said, a bit upset at admitting it. She knew that his family was very much against faeries, raising their heirs to become hunters, building their homes to protect themselves from the magical beings. She could tell that admitting he had never seen and naturally never fought one was a bit embarrassing to him, but she didn’t comment on it.

She had never really formed a strong opinion on the fae. Yes, she was raised to fear them, but after Feyre had come back from beyond the wall and had told them of the incredible things she had seen, and how she had even fallen in love with one of them, her mind could never stop wandering towards that. It was probably silly, and she doubted she would ever see anything related to the other side in her lifetime. But Elain still held her eyes ahead, as if she could see through the forest, to what was beyond it.

“If I ever get to see one, I doubt it will be a long encounter, my whole life I’ve trained to slay them. I hope I get the opportunity one day” Graysen continued and Elain simply nodded. He was brave, she thought.

They were walking by a blackberry bush when suddenly one of the Lord’s sentries atop a brown mare appeared from the forest folliage

“Pardon milord, but- we need your assistance, there has been an incident in the north border” He said, one more sentry appearing at his side, pulling an extra horse with him.

“What is it?” He asked.

“It-“ The guard glanced at Elain for a second. “We have found something you might want to see” He ended with a sense of importance.

Graysen nodded at the sentry and then looked at Elain. “Will you be fine going back to the manor from here?” He glanced at the manor, clearly visible from the place where they were standing.

“Yes, don’t concern yourself” Elain half smiled, not completely certain about how to feel. He let go of her hand and she awkwardly fumbled with her gloves as she watched him quickly near the extra horse. With a swift move he climbed into the saddle and directed his gaze to Elain.

“I’ll see you back at the manor, Lady Elain” He said and with a quick bow of the head he was gone, engulfed by the foliage of the forest surrounding her.

Elain watched him go for a moment, suddenly realizing how strange it was for her to be so… alone. The forest around her was very much alive, though. Birds chirping and wind singing through the leaves, the light breaking through the canopy by the lovely midday sun. It was a shame that the exploring had been cut short, Elain had just started enjoying herself, she pondered, fingers running softly through the leafs of a jasmine vine.

She glanced towards the manor. It was probably the wise choice to just go back and wait for Graysen to be done with whatever it was he needed to do.

It was the wise choice.

But something Elain could not really explain made her take a small step back into the woods. Just a little wandering wouldn’t hurt anyone, would it?

She told herself it was the feeling of finally being unrestricted that guided her further and further into the lovely woods. She didn’t know why it made her heart so happy, her limbs so free, she was suddenly smiling to herself, laughing even as she discovered a magnificent owl sleeping not far away on top of an oak tree branch, giggling as she skipped through leaves, passing by wildflowers and vines and apple trees. Even if a bit pathetic, she felt free and alive and somewhere down the line she lost her gloves and both her shoes were now hanging on her fingers, her stockings now the only barrier between her and the warm forest soil at her feet.

That was until she suddenly stepped onto something hard but soft and before she knew what was happening, she was stumbling face first down onto the ground.

“Ow” She groaned as the pain hit her ankle and she tried to gather herself. What in the world had made her fall-

She saw him then. She almost shrieked as her eyes took the sight all at once. Red hair, the most vibrant and rich crimson color she had ever seen, an enormous body, sprawled right beneath her as she sat on hands and knees. Directly in front of her: tan skin, with a few freckles speckled on his chiseled cheeks, a long brutal scar down the side of an otherwise perfectly handsome face, breaking through one of his thick dark eyebrows. Long lashes resting softly on his high cheekbones. And the ears, the slightly curved pointy ears pierced and sporting the most exquisite jewels she had ever seen. Elain gathered it all in seconds, and instinct made her jump and retreat away until her back painfully met the trunk of a tree.

Her heartbeat was pounding on her chest, the adrenaline preventing her of thinking straight.

A fae. A fae was lying right in front of her. She had stepped on… him. She had landed right on top of him too. Her hand pressed to her mouth.

She should run. She should already be running as fast as she could in the opposite direction.

She stared at him once more. He was looking so peacefully unconscious she suddenly wondered if he was even alive. She studied him warily. Why wasn’t she running again?

Gathering her strength she stood onto her two feet and wincing at herself, peered a look closer to him. She had never seen a fae before, curiosity taking the best of her as she took another step closer.

It hit her then that he was magnificent, something completely out of her world. Every inch of him designed for a much more exquisite realm, as much as deadly as he was beautiful.

Common sense urged her to leave him, to run. But something deep inside her commanded her to stay, to inspect. For some god forsaken reason she was not as scared as she should have been when she reached softly and placed two fingers on his throat, just to find warmth and a rhythmic pulse underneath her fingertips. She looked down on his body. Even while hidden under the most exquisite clothes she had seen, she could tell the… male was ripped with muscles, strong forearms leading to big wide hands adorned with golden rings. The steady breathing marked by the rising and falling of his strong chest. Her eyes wandered a bit before coming back up to his face and to her utter shock, finding him staring right back at her with a pair of mismatched eyes.

Elain almost yelped as she was suddenly being thrown on her back, one of those broad hands instantly on her mouth holding any sound she might make, his whole enormous otherworldly body encasing her and making it impossible to leave.

“I won’t hurt you” The male said just as she was going to start screaming nonetheless. “Don’t make a sound” He said, his handsome face inches from hers as she heard dogs barking and coming straight towards them.

The hunting hounds.

“Mmm!” She said, trying to warn him that they would end up being their food in no time.

“Don’t” He murmured. “They won’t sense us”

She looked at him with an incredulous look, her eyes about to pop out of their sockets at how wide they were as he just waited for the hounds to come.

And they did. The enormous dogs barked and passed right by without a second glance. How was that even possible?

Before she could move she heard the sentries going after them. They were following a trace, Graysen with them. They rushed through the forest and then disappeared. The male on top of her just stared ahead, waiting for them all to leave, his hand still unmovable on her mouth as he counted the seconds, while she looked at his long strong neck in front of her. He finally looked down at her again,

“Can I trust that you won’t scream bloody murder if I move my hand?” He asked. Elain nodded once, eyes locked into his mismatched gaze, one eye of russet, one of gold. It was the most enchanting thing she had ever seen and she felt ashamed at the thought.

He nodded as well, hand falling from her face as she gaped at him.

“My apologies, lady” He muttered, still atop her. “I couldn’t let them find me you see.” He slowly got himself off her smaller frame, he pulled himself to sit on his knees, extending a hand to her to help her sit up, she realized.

Warily, she took it, the act of sliding her hand through his warm calloused palm a lot more exhilarating than she had predicted it to be. He helped her up with no effort whatsoever until she was sitting straight facing his impossibly beautiful face. She could not stop wondering how such a being could possibly exist, let alone be talking to her in this moment.

“I’m Lucien” He suddenly said, something about her intense gaze apparently making him lower his gaze for a mere second and run his hand through his molten red hair. Lucien, even his name was new to her ears.

“You’re fae” She said, and that earned her a lopsided smile from him.

“I am” He said, his white smile bright as he displayed his pointy canines to her. Elain couldn’t help but to gape again. “And you’re human I see” He pointed out.

“Well- obviously. You’re in the wrong side of the wall, you know?” Something about his smile made it easy to talk to him and she surprised herself at her boldness. Again, shouldn’t she be running away from him?

“I am aware” He said as his smile turned into a sly smirk.

Elain arched an eyebrow at that, but he only assessed her further, his intense eyes going from her eyes, to her mouth and neck, the disarray of her dress and her muddy stocking clad feet on display. Her cheeks flushed as his gaze stayed there.

“Were you running from someone?” He asked slowly.

“No” She said, his eyes traveling just a little up towards her ankles, as if he could see her little injury from the fall. “I was just wandering through the forest” She said.

“Well, I owe you one, because if it wasn’t for you I might not have awoken in time for that” He said, pointing towards the way the dogs and the sentries and Graysen had gone through.

How had she awoken him?

She was still pondering on that when he said. “I can heal that, if you’d like, it wouldn’t take long” He gestured to her sore ankle, one she didn’t realize she had been softly rubbing. She was hesitant when he added. “Please, as a repayment for… helping me”

She glanced at her ankle, it was sore and… something inside her was still curious, peeking its ears at this new stranger, so different from anything she had ever encountered.

“Will it hurt?” She asked, tilting her head faintly at him.

“Not in the slightest” He put his hand on his heart. “I give you my word”

She pressed her lips slightly as she pondered before slowly nodding her approval. He approached carefully and Elain wondered if she had made the right call as he glanced at her for permission to touch her ankle, pausing until she dipped her chin softly into a nod.

Her stocking was loose on that side, and as he softly took her foot into his big palm, he realized it had come loose from its suspenders, so he simply began pulling at the fabric, making her blush even more furiously when seeing him strip her foot bare.

“Where does it hurt exactly?” He murmured when the clothing item was discarded.

“I thought you could see it” She said with an inhale. Something about a stranger touching her bare foot was finally hitting the mark as scandalous, but she couldn’t get herself to make him stop as his fingers brushed her skin softly, in a way that made her wonder if his intentions were exactly as selfless as he had expressed.

“Clever” He said with a slightly wicked smile. “I did… sense your ankle was hurt, but I can’t see exactly where” He explained as she wondered how that could even be possible. “Is it here?” He pressed on the top of her foot. She shook her head slightly as his eyes found hers again. “Here?” He moved his long fingers towards the side of her ankle and she shook her head again.

“The inner side” She said with a breathy voice that she could barely recognize as her own.

He nodded as his hand moved to where she directed him. The pain concentrating there as he moved her ankle slightly and she flinched.

“It’s not every day that I get awoken by a beautiful lady in the middle of a forest, you know?” He said as little sparks of light began spreading around her ankle as he worked. Elain was in awe as she stared at his magic, almost enough to make her miss the way he called her beautiful.

She hid her blush. “And it’s not every day that I stumble upon a sleeping fae in the middle of a forest too”

He gave her a roguish smile. “Ah, I do have a habit of sleeping around” He teased and she smiled a bit at his sass, right as the last of the pain got swept away, but he still did not put down her foot.

“What were you doing here?” She was compelled to ask as he looked into her eyes.

“I was dropped here by- …it doesn’t matter” He set down her foot at last. “They wanted me to end up ripped to shreds by those hounds just for funsies you see”

“Why?” She asked in horror.

He just shrugged. “They love to play with their enemies and I fell right into their grasp” He said, for a moment he looked around, then back at her. “You shouldn’t be around here… especially alone”

“I lost track of where I was going” She didn’t even know if she could go back through the same path she had taken without ending up even more stranded into the forest. He studied her quietly. She couldn’t understand why she didn’t feel scared of him, even for one moment, when his whole body screamed at how much of a warrior he had probably been forged to be, his muscles rippling through his clothes with every move.

“Were you having fun?” He asked her with a slight smile.

“I was” She admitted. A smile creeping into her mouth too.

“Is that an unusual thing for you?”

She bit her lip, wondering if she should be opening up to this stranger here in the middle of the woods. “I’m not used to feeling… unrestricted” She surprised herself by saying.

“That’s a shame, milady” He gathered himself to stand, and Elain could do little more than gape at how tall he was, more so than what she had expected. He extended a hand towards her again, and when she took it, a small frown crept on his brows as he stared at her small hand in his and pulled her to her feet, not a trace of pain as she stood. When he looked up at her face again, catching her gaze with predatory swiftness, he smirked at her once more. “In my humble experience, there is no greater fun than a female unrestricted” He said and she shifted on her feet as a blush crept onto her cheeks. Scandalous, that’s what this was.

“Are all fae this shameless?”

“Are all humans this curious?”

She realized her hand was still in his when he said it, and she nimbly pulled it away, his broad palm remaining open as it had been. She couldn’t understand what had gotten into her, and why she did not have the mental capacity to look away from his intent gaze.

“As much as I’d love to stay and aid in your adventures” He mused and Elain averted her eyes. “I gotta go, as you probably do too” He said and she looked back at him, his body straightening to take a step away from her. Something deep, so deep inside of her urged her to stop him for a moment longer, and before she knew it she was talking.

“Lucien-“ She said, and his head whipped towards her again, as if hearing his name from her lips startled him for some reason. “Will we ever meet again?”

Something flashed through his eyes as he contemplated her question.

“What’s your name, lovely forest nymph?” He asked her with a sly grin.

“Elain” She said, and again he started, as if something finally clicked. “Elain Archeron”

“Elain-“ He repeated. “You are Feyre’s sister”

“You know my sister?” She tilted her head, taking a small step closer to him. “How is she faring?”

“I’m her friend. She’s well-“ He said, his eyes averting her face for a second. “I’ll send her your greetings-“

“No- I” She said too quickly. “Can this stay between the two of us?”

He looked at her long and hard. His mismatched eyes enthralling her, the strands of his hair falling to frame his handsome face. Elain realized her neck was almost bent in half to maintain their eye contact from where she stood in front of him.

He finally bowed his head just slightly. “Of course, Lady Elain” He said. “And to answer your question” To her bewilderment he brought one of his knuckles and brushed them on her chin in the faintest motion, making her heart start beating hard and fast. “I hope we do” He said at last, his eyes falling from her eyes to her lips and back again. Elain felt herself gulp for air. In that moment she felt her body be transported in a blink of an eye, and before she knew it the beautiful male was gone.

She shook her head and noticed the blackberry bush near the entrance of the forest, she could see the manor from where she stood, as if he had brought her exactly to where she had been before, and then left as quickly as he had appeared.

The faint whisper of his touch still remained on her chin, the smell of him still lingered on her nostrils. And Elain could not understand for the life of her why she could not shake the feeling that she would always be looking for him. Somehow she knew he felt the same. And a faint voice in the back of her mind told her that they would someday meet again.

#elucien short fic #elucien fanfiction #elucien #pro elucien #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #elain x escapism #i want elain to be swayed by a roguish fae #human!au #i may do a second part and keep running with this

[infinitefolklore]

Elucien Fanfic Master Post

In The Darkness Before the Dawn, Leave a Light On

About: Elain is sent to the Mortal Lands to live with Lucien, Jurian, and Vassa to work on her Seer abilities, find a way to break Vassa's curse, and try to discover information about Koschei. Elain and Lucien are forced to live and work together, and get to know one another along the way.

Status: In Progress

Tropes/Tags: Forced Proximity, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Mutual Pining, Lust, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Canon Compliant

A Little Bit of Light Reading

About: Elain is all alone at the Town House and Lucien makes a surprise appearance. They decide to "explore the mating bond," but for how long can they keep it a secret? And what happens when the Inner Circle starts meddling in their business? Note: This fic became slightly AU towards the end!

Status: Complete; 43 Chapters; 120,896 words

Tropes/Tags: Smut, Dirty Jokes, Secret Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Drama, Banter, Library Sex, Drunken Shenanigans, Family Shenanigans, Sneaking Around, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Fluff without Plot, Drama Llama, Fist Fights, Jealousy, Love Triangles

Little Dove

About: Human!Elain and Fox!Lucien. This is a slight canon divergence deleted scene. After Feyre is taken to Spring Court, Tamlin sends Lucien to go check on the Archeron Estate. Lucien finds Elain all alone and offers her some company. Elain discusses her upcoming betrothal to Graysen, and Lucien tries to convince her to change her mind.

Status: Complete; One Shot; 10,895 words

Tropes/Tags: Alternate Canon, Deleted Scenes, Fluff and Smut, Gratuitous Smut, One Shot, Fox Mask Lucien, Flirtatious Rake Lucien, Inexperienced Elain, Flirting

Healer in the Night

About: Lucien has been away on the continent on a mission. No one has heard from him in over two months. Elain is worried. On a dark and stromy night, he shows up bloody on her doorstep. Elain nurses him back to health.

Status: Complete; 5 Chapters; 12,750 words

Tropes/Tags: Healing, Injury, Injury Recovery, Angst, Fluff, Elain takes care of Lucien, Lucien is a gentleman, And a flirt, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Mating Bond, Eventual Smut, because everyone convinces me to write smut

Meet Me On The Battlefield

About: Lucien is captured by Koschei and our poor fox boy doesn't think anyone is coming to save him. He's wrong.

Status: Complete; 6 Chapters; 12,022 words

Tropes/Tags: Dungeon, Prison, Torture, Suicidal Thoughts, Angst, Mention of torture, blood and injuries, don't worry this will have a happy ending, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Final Battle, Lucien is hopeless, Then he changes his mind, I don't want to give too much away in the tags, Lucien Vanserra-centric

Four Minutes

About: The Night Court attends a party in Dawn Court. Lucien finds out some information and turns into an absolute flirt. There's ballroom dancing, except hot. Elain can barely contain herself.

Status: Complete; 4 Chapters; 12,425 words

Tropes/Tags: Ballroom Dancing, Forced Proximity, Regency Romance, Lucien is a flirt, hot and bothered, Lust, Longing, Drinking, alcohol use, Gossip, Song Lyrics, Mutual Pining, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Teasing, Smut Obviously

Solstice Traditions

About: Lucien comes to the River House on Winter Solstice eve with another gift for Elain. He is pleasantly surprised by her reaction.

Status: Complete; 3 Chapters; 16,198 words

Tropes/Tags: Winter Solstice, holiday fluff, Gift Exchange, Cute, Fluff, Mating Bond, Smut, Honestly was not planning smut but you all asked for it, absolute filth, Elain wears lingerie

ENJOY <333

#elucien #elain x lucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #fanfic #fanfiction #acotar #acotar fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #a03 #elucien fanfiction #lucien vanserra fanfic #elain archeron fanfic #smut fanfic #fluff fanfic #emotional fanfic

[velidewrites]

Get In The Water

To bargain with an ancient death-lord, Captain Elain Archeron must acquire the rare, magical scales of a siren. Little does she know her target is no ordinary Mer—but the Prince of the Undersea himself.

Pairing: Elucien

Tags: Pirate!Elain x Merman!Lucien

Notes: For the beautiful talented stunning @areyoudreaminof for the @acotargiftexchange! I wasn't your original Secret Santa, but I tried to include some of your favourites here (this is your official warning for Jurian being a canon-typical little shit). Sending you so many smooches!

Thank you @ablogofsapphicpanic for being my beta<3

Read on AO3

“With all due respect, Captain Archeron, I really don’t think this is a good idea.”

Elain’s answering sigh was deep enough to rustle the waves ahead. She tossed them a final look before turning back to her quartermaster. “You know exactly where you can shove your respect, Jurian.”

He bounced off the mast with a grin. “Up my arse, no doubt,” he mused, a large, tanned hand stroking his much overgrown stubble. They’d been out at sea for weeks—for good reason, too, though Elain realised it was a sentiment less and less of her crew continued to share.

Still, she nodded with a smile of her own. “Same as last time.”

“Then I’m sure I don’t have to tell you it would have been wise to dock in Adriata two weeks ago.” He crossed his arms. “We’re not exactly welcome on Day Court waters.”

That was certainly one way to put it. Elain was half-expecting the High Lord’s army, ready at arms and lined up on the shores of Port Denera to arrest her and her crew. It would hardly be the first time.

Elain’s smile only grew wider. “There’s nothing quite like coming home.”

Jurian rolled his eyes, no doubt remembering their latest excursion himself, and leaned over the bulwark. “It’s been a while,” he remarked, his brown gaze drifting off to the azure sea. In the waning hours of the afternoon, the golden sunlight reflected off its surface, shimmering quietly as though unaware of the chaos to come. Where she came from—a little town bordering the Eastern Coast—the fishermen used to say the future was carried in with the waves. Elain was never much a practitioner of such belief—after all, if it were true, her ship would surely be on the verge of utter collapse right now, sinking underwater with the crashing force of the raging sea.

Instead, they continued to peacefully make their way northeast, the sun warming their skin as though in greeting. The irony wasn’t lost on her, but she supposed it was much easier to enjoy the bliss while it lasted. The silver blade strapped to her side flashed at the thought, undeniably in protest—she’d had it dipped in the Cauldron a few decades ago (before her sister, the High Lady herself, had somehow lost the whole damn thing), and since then, the sword had seemed to develop a mind of its own. Elain didn’t mind. It was bloody useful in battle, and she was smarter than to argue with a deadly, magical artifact. Even if it was a real fucking smartass.

The sword flashed again—and a lot brighter this time, too bright to mistake it with a random glimpse of the sunlight.

“Sorry,” Elain muttered.

Jurian—she’d nearly forgotted he was still here—glanced down at her belt. “You need to stop talking to the damn thing.”

She could have sworn she felt something sharp twitch against her hip.

“Would you like to talk to it instead?” she asked sweetly.

Jurian’s eyes narrowed. “No.”

“I thought so.”

“Seriously, Elain,” he sighed, apparently foregoing her usual title. “I would have gone to the ends of the earth with you to get those scales. Hell, I will go to the ends of the earth, and you know I won’t so much as hesitate.”

Elain did know. The stakes were too high—too personal, especially for her second-in-command.

“But the crew needs a break,” Jurian continued. “Adriata was supposed to be our goldmine, and we found nothing—nothing, Elain, not even one of those gods-damned—”

“I know what happened in Adriata, Jurian,” Elain cut in. “I was there.”

“I only mean—”

“I know what you mean. And I agree, even if I do not show it sometimes. Jurian, I…” She closed her eyes, letting the salty mist pearl on her skin, her lashes. “I miss her too. Every day.”

For a moment, there was only silence—silence and the quiet whoosh of the deep blue waves.

“I know you do,” Jurian whispered beside her.

“She’s out there, somewhere—somewhere on the Continent. With that monster to do with her as he likes.” She could practically hear Jurian grit his teeth beside her. “I won’t give up, and we’ve been out here together long enough for me to know you won’t give up, either.”

“The Death God is persistent,” Jurian seethed. “He demands too high a price.”

Indeed he did. Koschei, a being so ancient even the fishermen in her small Day Court village had no legends singing of his name, had been magically bound to his lair on the Continent millennia ago—and, apparently, had been trying to find a way out of his chains ever since. The only thing in the world able to release him, though, was—of course—the Cauldron, the creator of the world itself.

And, up until sixty years ago, Elain would see it in her sister’s dining room every Solstice. It was ridiculous, really, the power the Night Court used to have in its grasp. That wasn’t to say it had not been deserved—the Cauldron had been won in a war full of blood and sacrifice, one her sister and his mate had nearly lost their life in, but…well. Surely they could have found a more secure place to display it than their townhouse in Velaris. A place where it could not have gotten stolen by only the Mother knew whom, or better yet—a place where no one, not even Feyre and Rhysand, could ever find it again.

It was too late for such semantics. Despite an entire Valkyrie region searching the skies for a sign of it, the Cauldron was simply…gone.

Nesta believed it to have been an inside job. After all, there were only a handful of people outside of Velaris aware of the city’s existence at all, let alone the High Lord and Lady’s private residence. But the Head Valkyrie had questioned them all—and found nothing at all.

For the first twenty years, Elain searched for it, too—anything to get out of her village, really, and the ghosts of a life she longed to leave behind. An engagement to a local lord’s son might have been the dream of many females back home, but it was, and never would be, Elain’s

The missing Cauldron had given her the opportunity she’d been searching for, and Elain did not look back when Feyre asked for her help. In her travels, though…she discovered a beauty to the seas, to the vast world they opened up for her taking—and so, after too many hopeless clues and tearful conversations with her sister, Elain had let the waves consume her entirely.

She did not think she would ever have to worry about the Cauldron again. She’d hoped, perhaps foolishly, that it had lost itself to the world just as she wished it would. But then Elain had met Vassa, and then Vassa had been taken by Koschei, and, well…

Her fate belonged to the Cauldron once again.

This time, though, it was hardly a chore, or a favour she was doing her little sister. It was a matter of life or death, of the family she’d found sailing the seas of Prythian. Vassa was a sister, too, a sister she loved dearly enough that when Koschei’s demands began to invade her visions, Elain did not hesitate.

She and Jurian had devised a plan—it wasn’t exactly foolproof, so to say, but she hoped it would be enough. It had to be.

“Do you know how much just one of the Mer scales runs for on the black market, Jurian?” Elain asked, more to prove a point than to get an actual answer. He knew—they’d been chasing them for the past two years. Still, she said, “Ten thousand gold marks. You could buy a manor in Spring for that kind of money.”

“I have allergies,” Jurian murmured.

“I know I didn’t just hear that.”

Jurian sighed. “It just seems…I don’t know, Elain. The Mer people are folktale. If your so-called Undersea were to exist, we would have found it in Adriata.”

“The High Lord’s libraries clearly point to the seas of Day,” Elain pressed.

Jurian snorted. “Are you sure you read that right? We didn’t exactly have a lot of time in that library, you know.”

She cut him a look sharper than the sword at her side. “I’m sure. I got the information we needed with a few minutes to spare.”

“I think your posters are still hanging at the entrance.”

Elain wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like the way my hair looks in those ones.” When it came to painting, the Day Court forces were no Feyre.

“They put quite the bounty on your head, you know,” Jurian added. “If that isn’t flattering, then I don’t know what is.”

Elain grinned. “Well, I stole some really valuable books.”

“I’ll bet.” He looked out to the sea again, that rugged face turning more solemn as he studied the horizon—and the shore stretching far ahead. “How do you know the scales will be enough to get Vassa back?”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “I don’t know. But, if we can find the Mer here and get the scales we need…perhaps we can bargain with Koschei to take them instead. Their magic is forgotten, just as he is. He might find them to be enough.”

“That’s a big if, Elain.”

She shrugged. “At the very least, we might be able to use them to trace the Cauldron. I’ve sent a letter to Velaris—Amren volunteered her assistance.”

Jurian shuddered.

“Don’t be a baby,” Elain rolled her eyes. “She’s useful. Ancient.”

“Precisely.”

“I just…” He shook his head, his brown curls catching the sunlight. “Things are weird enough as they are. You Fae are hardly accepting of pirates, let alone humans.”

Elain tucked a loose strand of hair behind an arched ear. “I’m a pirate,” she declared, letting some of the pride she’d buried deep in her chest creep into her tone. “I am happy to share at least half of the burden with you.”

Jurian’s warm hand covered her own. “You’re a good friend, Elain,” he said. “You could have left—could have sailed off after that whole fiasco with Koschei.” He gave her a light squeeze. “But you chose to stay.”

She could not meet his stare—not when the salt in her eyes had begun to burn too much, blurring her own gaze as she turned to face the shallowing water. “I’ve run away before,” she told him quietly. “No more.”

“No more,” Jurian agreed. He had a past of his own—and, when the time was right…he would tell her. And she would embrace it without question.

“I’ll tell you what,” Elain started, her throat suddenly tight. “It’s a big day we’ve got tomorrow. Tell the crew we’ll be dining at the local tavern tonight?”

Slowly, Jurian turned to her—and smiled. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

***

The Pearl was a small ship—small enough not to raise suspicions when they’d docked in Port Denera. The flag—a Mer tail with a pearl resting between its fins—had been carefully folded away prior to their arrival, the sigil of Elain’s crew all but too recognisable in those parts of Prythian.

It wasn’t that Elain had no moral compass whatsoever, but, over the years, she had learned that sometimes, taking her life into her own hands had a tendency to pay off a whole lot more than simply letting it run its course. Had she lived by a different set of rules, she would have long been married to the new Lord Nolan, never having left her hometown and spending her days at the beach, looking out to the sea and wishing for a life never to be.

It could have been a good life, perhaps—but it would never be the life she wanted, the life she craved. Besides, it wasn’t like Elain had ever been given a good example to follow. Feyre, after all, had escaped her own arranged marriage and ran right to the deepest, darkest corners of Night, Nesta following shortly after. It was only fair that Elain followed the family tradition.

Father had been devastated—Elain’s engagement, after all, had been his final, desperate attempt at seeing his daughters well off before his passing. After Feyre and Nesta’s disobedience, as he’d called it, Father had assumed his daughters had simply rebelled because they wished to remain home. Perhaps that was why, after having tried marrying Feyre off to Spring and Nesta to Hybern, he’d settled for seeing Elain with a small, local nobleman.

Elain did not care for riches—well, she hadn’t cared then. Now, having seen all that the world had to offer, she supposed she did enjoy having a few pearls and gold around her neck at times. But it hadn’t been the match itself that bothered her—she was sure Greysen Nolan was perfectly nice and well-mannered—but the fact that Father hadn’t even asked if he was who Elain wanted, if he’d even cared if she could ever love Greysen at all.

As cliché as it sounded, love was exactly what Elain craved so viciously. And now, decades later, she had finally found that love—here, out at sea, with the waves embracing her wholly and eternally. This—the Pearl—was her home.

She sure hoped home wouldn’t mind seeing her stumble back aboard in a few hours, when she was well and thoroughly drunk out of her mind.

Aside from pearls and jewellery, Elain had developed a taste for ale, and it just so happened that the Port Denera tavern was famous for the golden drink. It tasted like liquid gold in her cup, leaving a tinge on her tongue that sent her senses spiralling and flushed her cheeks with bright-pink heat.

The crew seemed to be enjoying themselves, too, and it was only for that reason that she’d allowed her instincts to abandon ship for a moment or two. Well, perhaps three. She hadn’t seen Jurian this happy and relaxed since Vassa had been taken—a sign of how truly tired he must have been these past few weeks, of how badly he needed an evening to forget.

The thought sobered her up just a little, and Elain remembered the true reason she’d allowed this unusual night out in a town where the entire army was on the lookout for Captain Archeron. She did feel slightly guilty for misleading Jurian into thinking it was simply out of the goodness of her own heart—into omitting the one, small ulterior motive that had lately seemed to be driving nearly every decision of hers.

Information.

While the fishermen in the East of the Day Court had no knowledge of the Mer, the folk of Port Denera no doubt sang of the old creatures lurking beneath the sea. She’d already picked up on a few shanties on the way to the tavern, humming the words quietly to herself as she searched the lyrics for anything valuable. The Mer’s magic appeared to be as sharp as their teeth, capable of stirring the waves and calling upon storms. The strongest of them could lure the innocent, hungry wanderers into their traps with a lulling voice and mesmerising eyes, ones that reflected the soul’s deepest desires just as the surface of the sea reflected the sun above. Once captured, they’d sink those teeth into the flesh of their prey, and drag them under—never to be seen again.

Elain hummed the tune again cheerfully, excitement bubbling up in her chest—well, she supposed the bubbles might have had to do with some of the barrels of alcohol she’d consumed. Still, this was promising. All she needed was a name—a lagoon, or a hidden grotto, perhaps, where she could locate a lair. Her Cauldron-blessed sword would do the rest of the job.

Somewhere far beyond her peripheral vision, she heard the silver hum happily, already summoned by the rather bloodthirsty thought.

It was not that Elain wanted to murder the Mer in cold blood. She did not enjoy killing (she could have sworn her blade huffed at the sentiment), but if there was no other way to acquire the scales, she would do it. She loved Vassa enough to do whatever it took—the exiled, Firebird queen would do the exact same for her.

For what had to have been the hundredth time, Elain looked around the tavern, her somewhat blurry gaze scanning the bustling area. It was a lot more crowded than she’d expected—which proved a good thing all the same. It was a lot harder to get spotted in a sea of creatures of all shapes and sizes, and it sure helped that they all seemed piss-drunk, too.

The local shanty found its way onto her lips once more, and she sang it absently, her attention entirely focused on some old wraith somehow downing two bottles of wine at once. Her sharp nails scraped against the glass as she drank, and Elain watched, completely entranced at what she’d never thought could be accomplished before.

In the morning sun so bright, the sailors set to sea,

Their hearts as bold as brass, their spirits ever-free.

But careful, sailor, please, beware the waves that dance and play,

Beneath this sunny surface, a wicked mermaid lay.

“Sounds terrifying.”

Elain jumped.

The ale in her hand fell to the ground with a loud clunk, the sound immediately drowned out by a rumbling laughter of the crows. The golden liquid spilled over her, sticking to the skin of her neck, her collarbones, the curves of her exposed breasts—until finally sinking into the white fabric of her corset. Elain swore under her breath, cursing her choice of garment for tonight, before finally looking up.

“Shit,” she swore again, for the lack of a better word—or, perhaps, because there was no word to describe the male standing before her.

The most beautiful man she’d ever seen.

A pair of shining eyes of molten gold looked her up and down, an auburn eyebrow quirking up in amusement. “Now, don’t tell me you’re disappointed,” he drawled, his voice rich and deep and smoother than the liquid she’d swallowed down her throat. “I spent a lot of time on my hair earlier tonight.”

Elain blinked—then blinked again. “Are you…hitting on me?”

His mouth—full and plush and gods she needed to get it together—twitched. “And here I was, thinking I was all too obvious,” he quipped.

She peeled her gaze off the soft waves of his hair, glistening under the tavern’s candlelight. “Perhaps you’re just not very good at it,” she remarked, thanking the Mother for keeping her tongue sharp when her mind bordered on insanity.

The stranger smiled openly now. “What’s your name?” he asked.

Elain angled her head an inch. “Why?”

Did she really just ask him that?

Perhaps it was time to order some water.

The male seemed entirely unbothered. “It’s not often you meet a beautiful female singing old folktales in the middle of a tavern,” he said, offering a one-shouldered shrug. “I find myself somewhat…intrigued.”

“Intrigued,” Elain repeated blankly.

His smile grew wider. “Quite,” he agreed. “Those are old, you know.”

Elain straightened—straightened and blinked again, her thoughts somehow collecting into one, singular stream as she remembered what, exactly, she had come to this tavern for. “Are they?” she asked, “I’ve just picked up on them an hour ago.”

“An hour?”

She offered a smile of her own. “I have an excellent memory.”

Those golden eyes glistened. “Is that so?” the male asked, his gaze sweeping down her body as though he had all the time in the world. “If I tell you my name, will you sing it for me, too?”

Focus, Elain. He’d mentioned the Mer shanties, did he not? “I doubt anyone will hear it,” she remarked. “I never see Port Denera this busy.”

“You’ve been here before?”

Elain waved a dismissive hand. “Once or twice,”

The male hummed. “Then you know today is an important day,” he said, that strange shade of amusement playing over his features once more. “The High Lord is mourning the loss of his dear wife and son, and we are drinking in a show of, ah…solidarity,” he finished, a passing faun raising his glass at them, as though emphasising his agreement.

Elain waited for him to get out of earshot. “Wife and son?” she questioned, searching the corners of her mind that stored everything she knew about her Court.. “Didn’t that happen three hundred years ago?”

Those eyes narrowed at her slightly, and the stranger tilted his head. “Do you think he should have moved on instead?” he asked, the question so quiet it may as well have been a breath—and yet, she’d heard it perfectly over the bustling crowd.

Elain considered. “I think it must have been a beautiful kind of love, if he’s mourning it so many centuries later.”

His auburn brow arched in surprise. “What did you say your name was, lady…?”

Elain snorted. “Oh, I’m no lady.” She set her glass on a nearby table. “Haven’t been for a while.”

“You certainly look like one,” he remarked, that smile once again creeping back onto his ridiculously handsome features.

She couldn’t resist. “Do I, now?”

He chuckled, the sound low and honeyed. “Oh, absolutely.”

“And are you in the habit of flirting with all the ladies you pick up in a tavern?” Elain teased.

“No, no. I usually let them come to me.” He winked. “I can be a good singer too, you know.”

Elain smiled.

“I’ll take your word for it,” she laughed. “So, you know those shanties, too?”

His eyes glittered.

There it was.

“Some of them,” he agreed.

“Do they hold any truth?” she pressed. Come on, come on, come on…

“Sometimes,” he nodded. “Does it matter?”

You have no idea, Elain thought. “It does. I’m looking for…” she hesitated. “Information.”

“Oh?”

“The books in Day’s library state I might find it here,” she added carefully.

Something like realisation crept onto his features. “You wish to know about the Merpeople,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. Elain’s gaze flickered to the movement. “How did you get access to those books?” he asked.

“It’s not important,” she told him, eyeing the golden-brown muscles flexing under the candlelight.

“I disagree,” the male said, “those books are extremely well-guarded.” Was that admiration she’d heard in his tone?

“What was your name, again?” Elain asked him.

The male smiled. “Would you like to come outside with me?”

As if. “I’m not exactly in a hook-up mood right now, sorry,” she told him, though uncertain if the words rang entirely true.

He smiled—as though he knew. “What about information?” She felt her brows flick up. “I thought so. Now, shall we? It’s more quiet out back,” he added, gesturing to the tavern’s back door.

“I like it loud,” Elain countered. The more people drowning their conversation, the better.

“So do I,” he winked. “Another time, baby, I promise.”

Elain rolled her eyes. “Very funny,” she said, then dared a quick glance around the space again. Come to think of it, the couple at the table near where the two of them stood were awfully close—close enough that Elain decided not to risk it. She nodded to the stranger. “Let’s go.”

“Just so that we’re clear,” he started as they made their way through the crowd, “once you get those scales, we’re splitting the profits.”

“We can discuss the money later,” Elain countered. Like hell she was going to share anything with him.

“If that is what you wish,” he nodded, and opened the door.

The fresh air hit her almost unexpectedly, but it was a welcome change from the stuffy tavern in the back. She breathed in the salt carried in by the sea, her thoughts clearing up enough that she could finally focus on the matter at hand without unnecessary…distractions.

The distraction flashed her a smile, the beach behind him illuminated by the dying sunlight. “So, Mer scales, hmm? What do you need those for?”

“That,” Elain said firmly, “is none of your business.”

He chuckled again, the sound different this time—less than that deep, raspy sound she’d heard before, but more…fluid, like tea stirring in a cup. Warm. Inviting. “Oh, you have no idea,” he said quietly—and reached out his hand.

“Come with me,” the stranger told her.

Elain frowned. “I’m already here,” she pointed out. “You wanted to leave the tavern,” she reminded him.

He hummed—and she could have sworn it was like a melody pouring from his chest. “Yes,” he told her, stepping back until his feet—bare, she now noticed—reached the sand. “Let’s go a little further, alright?”

Elain stepped forward. “I…don’t understand,” she said. Still, she moved in closer.

He offered her a gentle smile. “Just one more step for me, gorgeous, please,” he tried again, his hand still outstretched.

“Okay.” She reached the sand now, too—but he had somehow moved back a few steps again, inches away from the waves’ embrace.

“Good girl,” he purred, the water now kissing his skin. Elain stepped in closer. “You’re very beautiful, you know,” he told her, angling his head slightly. She watched as his long hair spilled down his back in waves softer than the very sea—and met his gaze again, only to find it dark. “Almost beautiful enough to hide that rotten soul of yours.”

That gold had tarnished—enough to hide that bright, enticing gleam.

“Yes,” Elain agreed.

“Mmm, I thought so,” he mused. “I just need you to take a few more steps, alright? We’re almost at the shore,” he added, his voice like a lullaby, reassuring.

“Yes, I’ll follow you,” she agreed again.

“You’re doing so well for me,” he praised. “I might even consider making your death painless,” he whispered, watching her closely as she, too, neared the edge of the water. “Though that wasn’t the kind of death you had planned for my kind, was it?” he asked, a certain sharpness to his tone that made her open her mouth. “Oh, no need to answer that, baby,” he interrupted, “but I do appreciate your eagerness.”

Elain nodded. “Whatever you wish.”

He smiled, flashing his teeth. A perfect, pearly set of sharp blades—sharp enough to tear her flesh apart. “That’s a good girl,” he hummed, and she could have sworn she heard her soul sing in answer. “Now, step into the sea.”

Elain stopped inches from the seafoam. “Will you give me your hand?” she asked him shyly.

His features softened—though the sharp, predatory smile remained. “Of course, my rotten, terrible lady,” he purred. “Come with me.”

Elain slid her hand in his—and waited.

His skin, surprisingly, was warm—sun-kissed, as if he hadn’t spent an entire lifetime in the dark depths of the Undersea. He felt smooth, too, with some coarseness here and there that let her know his palm was no stranger to holding a weapon—a trident, perhaps, if the songs of the fishermen had, indeed, held any truth to them. 

The leaves behind her rustled—and Elain finally, finally released a breath.

“No,” she told him, her voice still feigning that blissful softness. “No, I don’t think I will.”

The merman blinked. “What?”

Elain gave him a smile that was purely Fae—one that let him know she was a monster, too. “It was a nice try, really,” she said, her free hand reaching back to her belt. “Sorry it didn’t work out.”

A pair of iron cuffs appeared in her grip—and, in a flash of a second, found its way onto the merman’s wrists.

His skin sizzled, and he hissed sharply, those dark eyes wide and not leaving hers for one second—but Elain held on, murmuring the spell she’d memorised under her breath.

She could never come to the land of the Mer unprepared.

“Duck!” Jurian yelled behind her.

She only had a fraction of a moment to see the bow in his hands—to stop him before he released the arrow.

Elain didn’t stop him, though.

She ducked.

***

“I can’t believe you caught one of them,” Jurian said in disbelief. “Good work, really, Elain, but did you have to bring him onto the ship?”

From the corner of her eye, she caught a flicker of movement behind the bars. The merman rose to his full height—he seemed taller in the constrained space of the brig, somehow—and met her gaze directly.

“Your name,” he said as though in a daze. “Elain.”

Elain cut her friend a look. “Thank you, Jurian.”

Jurian bounced off the wall. “Sorry,” he shrugged, his tone suggesting he wasn’t sorry at all.

“It didn’t work,” their prisoner said, more to himself now than his jailors.

“What didn’t work?” Jurian asked him sharply.

The merman looked at him—and Elain knew it took everything in her quartermaster not to flinch under his scrutiny. “My spell,” he explained slowly, then turned toward her again. “It didn’t work on you,” he repeated.

“Perhaps you’re not as good as you thought,” Jurian said.

He scoffed, as though the remark pulled him out of whatever fog had clouded his thoughts. “My name is Lucien Spell Cleaver,” he declared, his voice louder now, stronger. “Firstborn son of Helion Spell Cleaver, Prince of the Undersea—and heir to the High Lord of the Day Court.”

Beside her, Jurian went entirely still. Truth be told, she wasn’t sure she was moving at all, either.

She may have been a pirate, but kidnapping a High Lord’s son—nay, his heir—was an act of treason, and Elain really wished to see one hundred before eventually dying a horrible, undoubtedly painful death. Quite common in her profession, really. 

“Impossible,” she whispered. “Helion’s son is dead—as is his wife.”

“Clearly not,” Jurian murmured.

The male—Lucien—narrowed his gaze at the two of them. “We have been in hiding for the moment I was born. There was no denying what I was, not until I learned how to glamour myself, and my mother—she took me back to her people to protect me,” he explained.

“Does the High Lord know?” Elain breathed. He was lying. He had to have been.

Still, it was nice to at least know his name. Fake or not, it pleased her, for some reason. Lucien.

“Of course,” he scoffed. “The ‘Summer Estate’ he leaves for six months every year is Undersea.”

The answer was detailed enough that Elain’s heart quickened. “You really are Lucien Spell Cleaver?” she asked.

“And you,” Lucien nodded, “are Elain Archeron. Pirate…and Mer killer, apparently.”

“I haven’t killed anyone,” Elain protested.

“Yet,” he finished for her. “You were going to kill me,” he said, those golden eyes—back to normal now that he was at their mercy—settling on her as he added, “You still are.”

“I haven’t decided yet,” she scrambled. Some pirate she was—some of her rivals back East would have made her walk the plank for her hesitation.

Still, Elain could not bring herself to remember why…

“Why do you want my scales?” Lucien asked, interrupting her trail of thought—completing it, really.

“I told you, that is none of your business,” she told him, though her voice lacked her previous conviction this time.

“It is, if you still want them,” he countered.

“Why on earth would you give us your scales?” Jurian demanded.

“Well, I wouldn’t,” Lucien shrugged, then lifted his iron-bound hands into view. “As you can see, I am not in my Mer form, and will not be until you release me back into the sea,” he argued. “So, why don’t you just let me go, I give you my scales, and everyone wins?”

“Because you’re very obviously lying,” Elain cut in. “And you and your little Undersea army are going to sink my ship the moment it sails.”

The corner of his lip ticked upwards. “Is the word of a Prince not credible enough for you, Elain Archeron?”

“Not particularly,” she replied calmly. Princes, Lords—she’d heard their promises before, and ran to the sea to escape them.

“You are unlike any Mer hunter I’ve ever met before,” Lucien hummed, as though in thought.

Elain frowned. “There are hunters?”

“Of course,” he told her. “My father has disposed of as many of them as he could, but some still emerge every few years, hoping to see if the songs are true.” His expressions sombered. “Our scales are very valuable.”

“So we’ve heard,” Jurian said.

Lucien’s gaze flickered up. “It is money, then,” he said matter-of-factly, though something like anger lingered in the back of his throat.. “You wish to kill my people for a few gold marks?”

Elain swallowed.

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, princeling,” Jurian seethed.

Elain placed a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Take a breath, Jurian,” she told him quietly. “Why don’t you leave us alone for a moment?”

Jurian looked at her—then back at Lucien again. “Let me know if you need help killing him,” he said darkly. Then, “For the record, I don’t care what you are,” he told Lucien. “You’re just annoying the shit out of me.”

And with that, he was gone, the wooden stairs carrying the echo of his steps. Only when they faded did Lucien finally say, “I like him.”

“He shot you,” Elain reminded him.

Lucien shrugged. “It wasn’t an ash arrow, now, was it? We live to forgive. Besides, I’m healed now.” Indeed, the wound in his shoulder had now closed almost entirely. “Well, almost,” he said, pointedly raising his wrists back into the light.

Elain had hoped the iron would work—it was an old superstition the humans thought could harm the Fae, but it had to have stemmed from somewhere. With Day’s libraries proclaiming the Merpeople as millenia older than the Fae, Elain figured it wouldn’t hurt to try.

“Sorry about the iron bars,” she said, nodding to Lucien’s cell. “Precautions.”

“I would have expected nothing less,” Lucien said—then leaned back, letting the back of his head rest against the wood. “So.”

Elain released a breath.

“Alright,” she braced herself. He was her future High Lord, apparently—if she lied, she was already dead. “What do you know of Koschei?”

“Who?”

“Nothing, then,” Elain sighed. “He is a death-lord—a god-like being trapped somewhere deep in the Continent. His magic is even more ancient than yours.”

Lucien’s brows furrowed. “And you seek to…take his magic for yourself?”

“I want nothing to do with his magic,” Elain told him hotly, earning an arched eyebrow in response. “It is revolting. But, it also currently binds my friend’s soul to Koschei himself, and he will not give her up unless we offer him something in exchange.”

“Mer scales?”

“He wants the Cauldron,” she explained. “We are hoping the scales will do for now.” She fought the urge to bury her face in her hands. Was the plan truly that hopeless? Was Vassa going to be trapped…forever?

In her misery, she hardly noticed Lucien had gone strangely quiet.

“Our scales do not even compare to the sheer power of the Cauldron,” he said, the words barely above a whisper.

Elain laughed bitterly. “If this is your way of talking me out of it, you should know I’m pretty desperate,” she told him. “I’ll do whatever it takes to get my friend back.”

At that, Lucien said nothing. He only stared at her in thought, his eyes shimmering despite the darkness she and Jurian had shoved him into.

Then, “I see.” He stepped forward then—and halted an inch from the iron bars. “I was wrong about you.”

That, Elain did not expect.

“I told you, your spells do not work on me.”

“I’m well aware,” Lucien hummed. “I speak the truth. What is your friend’s name?”

Her throat threatening to close up, Elain managed, “Vassa.” She shook her head. “She’s like a sister to me. She’s Jurian’s…”

Understanding dawned on his features.

“That makes a lot of sense,” Lucien said.

“Yes,” Elain whispered. “Yes, I suppose it does.”

Lucien studied her closely. “And do you have a…?”

Elain almost laughed—though she supposed it was better than breaking down in front of the man she’d imprisoned aboard her own ship. “Don’t tell me you’re back to your flirting strategy now,” she told him.

Lucien smiled—a true smile this time, though Elain wasn’t sure how she knew. “Was I truly that obvious?”

“I knew what you were,” she gestured over him as if it was enough of an explanation. “No one else has eyes like that.” Like the morning sun itself.

“Now who’s the shameless flirt, Elain?”

Elain chuckled. “Don’t flatter yourself.” She met his gaze again. “The song summoned you, did it not?” she asked. “You weren’t at the tavern when I arrived.”

Lucien nodded. “I heard it from beneath the waves.”

“I’m not that good a singer.”

“No, you’re not,” he said, his smile fading with the words. She found herself wanting to see it again. “It was for another reason that I heard you. I recognise that now.”

“Recognise what?”

Lucien hesitated. “I need to…” He shook his head. “I—I can’t be sure, it doesn’t…” He locked his eyes with her own again, and she watched him patiently as he searched her gaze. “Elain,” Lucien tried again, and she could have sworn his voice trembled with the word. He loosed a breath. “Come with me.”

Elain looked at his outstretched hand—careful not to let the bars graze his skin. “I told you—”

“I’m not using my magic,” Lucien interrupted. “Just…come with me. Undersea.”

“Like hell I will,” she crossed her arms. “I don’t trust you.”

Lucien just stared at her—started as if some internal battle was playing out deep inside him, one she could almost feel in her own chest.

Then, his hand pulled back, and he laid his palm flat over his chest. His heart, Elain realised, her gaze dipping toward it.

She heard it, then—a quiet, yet powerful sound, like a wave crashing over the shore. The steady beating of his heart.

It couldn’t have been—and yet…

And yet, somehow, Elain heard it. Continued to hear it even now, even stronger as Lucien proclaimed, “With my life,” he began, “I promise to do you no harm.” There was an urgency in his gaze as he pleaded, “Just get in the water with me, and I will be yours.”

Elain paused. “Your scales, you mean,” she corrected, suddenly finding herself entirely out of breath.

“Yes,” Lucien agreed. “That.”

Elain studied the bars keeping him away—then the iron key strapped beside her Cauldron-blessed sword. She swore on the Mother herself she could hear it whisper: Do it.

Perhaps she was simply losing her mind.

“Are you going to make me regret this, Lucien?” she asked him.

He simply stared back. “Are you?”

She supposed the question was reasonable enough. “Don’t tell Jurian I’m doing this,” she warned Lucien. “He’s going to kill me.”

Two minutes later, Lucien was free.

It was a blessing that they’d somehow missed Jurian, really—that she’d guided Lucien through the narrow space upstairs until they arrived at the starboard hand in hand, the sea soft and patient. Waiting.

What the hell was she doing? The only thing Elain knew for certain right now was that she was almost certainly going insane, and that Lucien’s hand in hers was warm and steadying in the buoying ship—and that those steps she was hearing somewhere behind them were, without a shadow of a doubt, Jurian’s.

Whatever Lucien was trying to prove, he had to do it now.

“Do we…jump?” she asked him.

“ELAIN!” Jurian yelled.

“I guess so,” Elain answered for him—and, together, they jumped.

The water, surprisingly, was warm despite the middle of the night. Helion liked to keep his Court warm at all times, but she supposed the sea, at least, would have carried some chill to it. It was then that she realised she’d never swam in those waters before—that she’d spent her lifetime admiring their every corner, but had never actually felt their beauty herself.

Everything happened so quickly.

The moonlight shimmered atop the sea, then sank deep beneath its surface, illuminating the space between them. Illuminating Lucien as his glamour faded and revealed the Prince of the Undersea in his true, unmasked form.

Elain could have drowned there and then.

The scales dotting his body glimmered under the light in a symphony of golds, bronzes and maroons, glowing even underwater as they formed a long, finned tail that floated gently with the current. He was sunlight come to life, the forest on a warm, autumn morning, the golden thread coming to life as it wrapped itself around her ribs, and Elain knew—knew this was the true beauty the sea had meant to show her from the very first moment she’d set sail.

“You…” She struggled for a breath. “You’re so beautiful.”

Lucien smiled, a webbed hand reaching for her own. “So are you, he said, placing her palm over his bare chest—just as he did aboard her ship moments ago. This time, though—this time, Elain could hear as their two heartbeats blended into one, a melody that made her own soul sing as Lucien whispered, “I am yours.”

The thread around her ribs tightened, forever to remain.

“You…” Elain blinked. “Oh.” She covered their joined hands with another, as if to make sure. “Lucien.”

“I needed to make sure,” he breathed, pulling her in. “You are my mate.”

There was reverence in the way he’d spoken the words—like some sacred spell only Elain was privy to hear from his lips.

She wanted to try them too.

“You are mine.”

“Yes,” he assured her.

“And I am yours.”

“Yes,” Lucien whispered again.

“Your scale—”

He squeezed her hands tighter. “Everything I am belongs to you now, Elain,” he interrupted. “But you will not need them.”

Elain blinked once more. “I don’t understand, I—”

Lucien smiled. “We have the Cauldron,” he told her. “My father took it—from Velaris.”

Elain wasn’t sure she was breathing.

“No.”

“Its wards protect us—have been keeping us safe for decades,” Lucien explained. “I think it is time we take our safety into our own hands,” he added, his thumb brushing over her palm.

Did he mean—?

Elain shook her head. “I couldn’t—”

“Where you go, I go,” Lucien said. “I am yours, Elain, and you are mine. Together, we’ll get your family back. And,” he hesitated, “If—if you still wish to have me around then—”

Her mate.

“Kiss me,” Elain demanded.

Lucien stilled. “What—”

“Now, Lucien.”

And he did.

Her eyes fluttered shut as Lucien’s mouth clashed into her own, and the world around then exploded—he tasted of salt and the sun-warmed breeze. He tasted like the rest of her gods-damned life, though she supposed eternity could never be enough to satiate the hunger one kiss had instilled deep inside her. Lucien kissed her as if she was the world, as if she was the light illuminating the sea embracing them, his lips hot and soft and all-consuming.

They had a war to face—but, as long as they faced it together…

Elain pulled back, their hearts pounding as one. She smiled at the sound.

“Let’s do this.”

#acotar gift exchange #elucien #pro elucien #elain x lucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #elucien fic #elucien fanfiction #acotar #my writing

[lucienarcheron]

This Time, I'm Ready [ Elucien ]

Inspired by Long Story Short by TS. I was listening to it randomly and a scene of Elain started playing out in my head. Recommend listening to it while reading :)

Shout out to @ruhnnlidias for always being my beta reader ♥️

Rating: SFW Genre: Little angst/fluff

Tagging: @helion-ism | @zenkindoflove | @crazy-ache | @danaanruhn | @eudaimonia83 | @vanserrass | @elizascarlets | @climb-the-mountian

As she stood in the woods and took in her surroundings, Elain realized she had made a tragic mistake leaving the Spring Court alone.

Darkness was setting and she had no idea where she was or how she’d even be found. 

All she knew was that she had needed out of the Night Court. She had needed to get away. Even at the risk of her own safety. 

Because she was sick of it. Sick of doing nothing. Sick of being nothing.

Sick of the coddling. Coddling she had played a huge part in allowing. 

Because comfort had always been more important than worrying. Comfort had been more important than facing everything that had been taken from her. But at what cost? 

At what cost?

Elain whirled around at the sounds of twigs snapping behind her and that familiar sense of self-loathing she had developed in the last two years threatened to explode in her chest. 

She was an idiot. An absolute imbecile for thinking she could do this on her own.

But it was too late to change courses now.

Elain’s bottom lip trembled as her eyes darted around her. The fae eyesight she’d resented for so long didn’t fail her now as she took in the details of the tall trees. Her vision — that stupid vision was what had spurred her to make this move. A vision that promised the sun and flowers blooming, coming from a manor she had once planned to call home before it was ripped away from her and her dreams became shrouded in darkness.

And Elain had been desperate for the sun for two years. 

So she had fortified her mind, blocked it the way she knew how so they wouldn’t sense her lie, and had convinced Rhys that she needed to go to the Spring Court. She had nearly begged, demanding they respect her vision and though Feyre had been hesitant, her sister knew she couldn't stop her. 

And Mor had winnowed her in, waiting patiently with her as she explored, as they avoided the beast that still roamed while she tried to piece things together. Her vision was important, they had to inspect what it meant…even if she hadn’t told them what her vision had been about.

Or rather, who.

But the person she had been looking for hadn’t been there as she had predicted. Mor had only given her a sympathetic look that had Elain clenching her jaw and said, “We’ll wait until morning to see if anything else can be found.” 

Elain didn’t want to wait until morning and Mor hadn’t noticed the satchel she had hidden beneath her cloak. Though she wasn’t too surprised. No one really noticed anything about her. People only saw what they wanted to see when it came to her. 

And maybe Elain should feel guilty about the panic she would likely cause Mor, even with the note she left behind, but she knew she needed to find him alone. Elain needed to make sure he was alright and for once, didn’t want an audience.

Because telling them what she saw meant they’d get involved. And for once, Elain needed them all to mind their business. 

Her hand tightened around the hilt of the dagger she’d stolen from the ridiculous amount stashed in her sister’s home and Elain hated the feeling of it, hated having to hold it, and hated the idea of having to potentially use it. 

Stabbing one person had been enough for her in this lifetime.

Turning her body, she tried to gauge where exactly she was. She had been careful to ask careless questions, to pretend to stare at the map of the location with as much boredom as she could muster all those times they'd bothered to include her in things. Which wasn’t often, but Elain had tried.

And now, she was trying to find… Lucien. 

A shudder went through her body at the thought of his name. The mate she had been ignoring.

The sun she was seeking, that she had blatantly pretended wasn’t there. Because he could be hurt and the thought of not hearing his heartbeat made her sick. 

She hadn’t been ready before. 

This time, she was.

Ready to run certainly, at the sound of another twig snapping. If only there weren’t predators that were ecstatic at the opportunity to chase their prey — and Elain had forgotten just how many predators were out there. How easy prey she was at the moment. 

Alone. Vulnerable. Breathing so loudly she was positive they could hear her back in Velaris. 

Elain took a deep, shaky breath and exhaled it quietly. Licking her lips, she did the one thing she hadn’t expected herself to do. She called out to her mate.

Lucien?

She called out silently, licking her lips as she tested the waters of the mating bond she’d been shackled with. A mating bond that, try as she might, was never as dormant as she let the others believe. She heard his heartbeat all the time. Felt emotions flicker from him. Saw hazy memories. 

Elain bit her lip, and slowly as she moved forward, the panic began tingling through her body. Why would he be listening? It wasn’t like she’d called out to him before. It wasn’t like she had ever been particularly kind to him. 

Elain, who was kind to everyone. She was nice. Took out all her rage at the one person who didn’t really deserve it. But gods, being nice was exhausting when she hated everything about herself. He sensed how she felt. He saw too much. Just as she saw and felt too much of him. 

In that stupid vision, she saw him coming for her. And he was whole and healthy. She had felt relieved at the sight of him. 

She only left to find that relief. 

But all she was finding was panic.

“Lucien?” she whispered and then shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut. She was so stupid. How would he even hear her out here? Elain had no idea where she was or if she was on the right path.

All she had ever been useful for was being beautiful and nice. Maybe her mother had been right all along; she didn’t need to know how to use her brain when she had that face. Thinking she’d be good enough to try and venture out on her own had been so foolish of her.

No wonder no one included her in anything. She wasn’t smart. She wasn’t brave. She wasn’t useful. Elain was just there, a mistake, a sad sight no one even saw or paid attention to. 

Her hand flew to her mouth to hold in the sob threatening to escape. She had been so stupid to come out here. 

Another branch cracked and she whirled again at the sound, scanning the area around her. She couldn’t have ventured too far from the Spring Court. She had to still be close, right? 

But as she took a step, Elain felt a chill run down her spine that had her freezing in place.

She swallowed and then whispered into the trees, “Lucien?”

Elain was afraid to close her eyes to seek him out, to travel without moving as she had done once before. She bit her trembling lip and looked for that thread that he had tested out with her so long ago. She looked for that thread around her ribs and tugged. 

He had to find her. 

He had to be listening. Or at least she hoped. 

Her face fell as the feeling of unease flooded her senses. Why would he be listening? He certainly wasn’t obligated to give her any of his time. Just like she hadn’t been obligated to give him anything.

Except for a conversation. Maybe they could’ve been friends. Maybe more. Maybe less. 

Taking a shaky breath, Elain shook her head. She needed to focus. She needed to find him. Closing her eyes and letting her senses take over, letting that power she kept to herself surface as she looked for him. She traveled while standing, searching, rooting for him. She looked and tugged at that bond, she searched with a desperation she’d never, in all her years felt.

He needed to find her. He needed to be okay. 

And she needed to get out of this quickly darkening forest. 

There.

She saw him, seated at a desk alongside the Mad General she had only met once long ago, and felt herself tremble at the sight of him. She watched him suddenly straighten as if sensing her.

“Lucien.” she whispered and Elain wasn’t sure if she was saying it in her mind or out in the open air but he seemed to hear her. 

For Lucien shot out of his seat and Elain watched his eyes widen, scanning the room. “Elain?” 

“I’m in the forest outside of the Spring Court. I came looking for you but you weren’t there. I’m lost and I want you to find me.” she blurted quickly, fighting back a sob. “Please find me.”

“Elain —” was all she heard from him, his voice echoing the panic that was close to seizing her and before she could say anything else, she was ripped out of her connection.

Elain stumbled forward and whirled around quickly to find a creature of nightmares snarling a few feet away from her. 

The creature stood alone, covered in dark scales with powerful arms that ended in claws she knew would slice anyone into ribbons.

Elain could only stand in horror, staring at the creature that gave her a bone-chilling smile. 

She hadn’t seen this in her vision. 

“Pretty, pretty pet.” it rasped, its claws clicking together as it stalked towards her. “You smell so divine. I’m going to eat you right up.”

“N-no, thank you,” she whispered and the creature blinked at her and then chuckled in a way that made the hair on her arms raise.

“Ah, well. That’s not what I want to hear.”

And the air between them stilled. The predator and prey as Elain stared down the creature. She had come seeking her mate and instead, found herself alone and vulnerable, about to be eaten alive.

Is this what she would amount to? She had stabbed the King of Hybern once long ago. She could not die here, without facing her demons. She had seen what her life could look like and Elain had finally decided to do something about it. Her grip tightened on her blade and she swallowed hard as the creature tilted its head mockingly at her. 

Elain let herself take a deep calming breath then without warning, broke out into a run. Birds fluttered from the trees above her as she ran back, not away to – from – from the Spring Court? She wasn’t sure and the panic she had been trying to suppress bubbled back up to the surface as the sound of the creature stalking her followed.

“Find me. Find me. Find me.” she chanted desperately, a sob slipping from her lips as she rounded a corner, following a light that had to be the earlier path she had followed. The light had to lead back to safety.

But as she ran, her cloak caught on a branch and with a yelp, she fell. Quickly rolling over, she swallowed a scream as the creature hovered over her, closer than she had expected and nearly gagged at its foul breath. Grabbing her by the ankle, it dragged Elain closer and she could only stare in horror, frozen in place.

“I’m going to pick you apart piece by pretty piece.” it hissed.

With a desperate scream, she finally kicked it with her free leg and scrambled away but it grabbed her again and Elain fell once more, the dagger slipping from her hand.

“Let - go - of - me!” she shriek-sobbed, her hand desperately seeking the hilt of that dagger.

“Pretty pet has some claws.” The creature rasped once more as it yanked Elain forward, leaning over her and Elain tried not to gag again at its foul breath, her hand still seeking the dagger. “Lost little lamb with no one here to save her. Left to be gobbled up.” 

Her hand faltered for a breath. 

No one here to save her.

Would she always be this way? Always waiting to be saved? Always the victim? Never knowing how to defend herself? 

She had no desire to be a warrior but Elain was sick of being the prey. 

Anger she hadn’t felt in a long while flared in her chest as her fingers finally wrapped around the hilt of the dagger and with a cry, she forced himself forward and shoved the dagger into the creature’s throat and held. She let out a scream of rage, fighting the urge to vomit when it’s black blood sprayed across her face. But Elain held and held tight, even as her hands shook until the gurgling sounds stopped and the creature slumped over her.

Elain let herself lay there, breathing heavily as her body started to shake. She was okay. She was fine. She had been attacked by a horrible creature and had survived. She was alive. 

She would be —

The sound of running had the breath choked out of her. She couldn’t do this again — she couldn’t take another one. 

But Elain couldn’t move. Her body wouldn’t budge and as tears started to spill, she bit back another sob, trying with all her might to move the dead weight off her. Never mind, its blood was on her hands and dress and face – never mind that she was likely to be crushed beneath its weight if she didn’t move.

Panic seized her fully as she tried to scramble up, the footsteps coming closer. She could pretend to be dead. She could —

A violent snarl echoed through the forest as the dead creature was ripped off her and Elain nearly shrieked once more until she saw who stood above her.

“Elain.”

Elain’s eyes widened as Lucien fell to his knees next to her, breathing as hard as she was. He started at her and the sheer amount of relief that washed over her made her lips start to tremble. 

“Lucien.”

She watched as a slight shudder went through him at the sound of his name from her lips and her body trembled as she stared and stared and stared. He had come.

“Elain. Thank fuck, you’re – you’re alright,” he asked and his hands hovered over her for a moment, as if forgetting that they hadn’t touched casually before – as if remembering then, it would be the first time in over two years. She watched as he swallowed hard, his chest rising and falling before slowly, Lucien held out a hand to help her sit up and Elain dropped her gaze to his open palm. “Are you hurt? Can you sit up?”

She blinked, hoping the tremors coursing through her body would stop as she stared back up at him. 

“You — you came.” was all she could think to say, staring at him as she slid her shaky hands in his and slowly sat up, her eyes never leaving him, devouring the sight of him. 

“Of course, I came,” he said quietly. “You – you called.”

Tears welled up in her eyes at the words but she blinked them back and swallowed hard, trying to find the right words to say. He had come. He had listened.

“You found me,” she whispered, squeezing his hands and Lucien’s gaze softened. 

He swallowed before carefully answering, “As long as you want me to find you...the bond will remain a thread between us.” he said quietly and squeezed her hands in return. “I’ll always find you.”

Her raging heart seemed to beat faster and Elain finally took a moment to run her gaze over his body. He was still in the tunic and trousers she had seen him in except now a sword was strapped to his back – a sword he hadn’t even bothered to use when he pulled the creature off her.

Her mate had used his bare hands to save her. And he was safe and whole, not a scratch to be found on him. 

Elain met his gaze, finding him patiently watching her, his brows furrowed in concern, and suddenly remembered how she was covered in filth and flushed deeply, pulling her hands back to her lap.

The corner of his mouth twitched as he glanced down at his now empty palms and let them fall to his sides. “You want to tell me how you got here?”

“I – I had a vision.”

“Ah.”

“It was about you,” she whispered and his expression turned curious. “Something bad happened to you.”

Lucien seemed to be fighting to keep his expression carefully clear. “And that…worried you?”

Elain’s flush deepened and she swallowed before whispering, “Yes.”

The air between them seemed to go taut but Elain refused to break his gaze as a slight color bloomed on Lucien’s face.

This energy between them wasn’t like what Feyre and Rhys had. Or even what Nesta and Cassian had. This…this felt different. 

The bond between them seemed to hold its breath until Lucien cleared his throat and finally said, so softly, in the way he always seemed to speak to her, “I’m sorry to have caused you all this trouble.” 

Elain blinked and couldn’t help the huff of a small laugh that slipped from her lips, fisting her hands in her lap. “If anything, I’m the one to apologize for causing you trouble,” she said and bit her lip. “I dragged you all the way out here.”

Lucien chuckled and Elain felt it skate across her filthy skin. “You did give me quite the heart attack,” he said and the corner of his mouth curled up at her flush. “I thought I was hallucinating for a minute.” 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered and couldn’t look away from him, trying to blink back the embarrassed tears welling in her eyes. “I didn’t mean to – I just – “

Lucien shook his head then gently and so carefully, reached for her hand. “You have nothing to apologize for,” he said and offered her a small smile. “I’m thankful you did. I’m glad you did.” 

And Elain felt her heart swell. This man – male who owed her nothing was glad she had called on him in her time of trouble.

“Even after all this time? We’ve barely spoken.”

“I know.” he only said and Elain felt her bottom lip tremble as she squeezed his hand in hers.

“Why?”

And Lucien couldn’t seem to help the tilt of his head as he gave her a look that was too knowing. “Because you never fully closed that door between us,” he said and Elain swallowed. “I know you’re well aware of how a mating bond works. You could reject it – reject me and no one would bat an eyelash.” He glanced at their hands and turned her palm over, his thumb daring to rub soothingly. “With the nature of the mating bond, a rejection would’ve been hard for me but I would’ve made peace with whatever decision was made.” Lucien met her gaze again. “I am not a male who forces himself to be where he is not wanted, especially with females. But…you kept the door open.”

“I’m not – I wasn’t —” Elain began then forced herself to swallow hard again. “I wasn’t ready.”

“I know,” he said again and gave her a small, slightly sad smile and Elain couldn’t stop herself from tightening the grip of her hand in his again. 

She met his gaze and knew he could feel every jumbled emotion she felt, every complicated thought that flickered across her face. But he waited. Patiently. Kindly.  And it was like he sensed exactly how hard it was for her to say more, to express her desires. 

The corner of his mouth curled up. “I will say…it has been very bold of you to assume I would be obsessed with you,” he added and Elain flushed. “If anything, this situation goes to show you’re the one who can’t stop thinking about me. Getting all worried and running around in the woods alone.” He ended the statement with a tsk and Elain blinked.

Before she could stop herself, a snort slipped from her at his statement and the snort turned into a raspy laugh and before Elain could stop herself, she was laughing so hard she could barely breathe. 

She was sitting on the ground of an unknown forest, still covered in the blood of a creature she had killed and Elain couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed this hard. 

And he sat with her as she laughed, watching her with amusement until the last giggle left her mouth, and Lucien couldn’t help but answer with a chuckle of his own. 

She had found the sun. And it was smiling right back at her. 

When she finally let out a sigh, marking the end of her slight loss of sanity a moment ago, Elain felt a sense of calm wash over her as he watched her and it took a few heartbeats of silence before Lucien broke the quiet. 

“I take it you’re ready to move now?” he asked and Elain nodded as he looked around the woods. “How did you even manage to get here?”

He stood slowly and as Lucien pulled her up, Elain didn’t let go, staring up at him as she stood flush against his chest. She’d worry about how dirty she was later. “I sneaked away.” 

Lucien’s brows lifted and the color on Elain’s cheeks deepened at his smirk. “Sneaked away, did you?”

“Oh yes,” she confirmed and Elain wondered if she’d ever realized how delicious he smelled. “Mor winnowed me in and I - um, waited until she was distracted and sneaked away.” Elain licked her lips. “But then I um, got lost.” 

“Poor Elain, getting lost in the woods all alone,” he said in a tone with a teasing edge to it and Elain found her heart beating faster, forcing herself not to think about the tenor of his voice when he said her name, flushing lightly again. 

But then color flushed on his cheeks and the silence between them seemed to soften; Elain couldn’t quite read the expression on his face but he seemed to struggle to say his next words. 

“All this to find…me.” he said so very quietly and Elain seemed to hear the question without him asking it – that of all people, she had ventured out into the unknown for him? As if in disbelief that he would be worth the effort.

Then again, she hadn’t helped much in her avoidance of him. 

“Y-yes.”

Once more, that thread at her ribcage went taut as they shared a glance and Elain wondered what it would be like if she just kissed him. Judging by the way his eyes watched her, she wouldn’t be too surprised if he could see it written all over her face, especially when he licked his lips.

“At least I’m not the only person you tried to give a heart attack to today,” he said with that teasing tone again and Elain’s lips twitched. 

“Oh, Mor is definitely going to kill me.” she joked and her heart stuttered when his grip tightened on her slightly, watching him blink back a look of rage at the idea that someone might think to hurt her. 

“Well, it’s a good thing I found you first then,” he said casually and cleared his throat. “Lest you get into any more trouble.” 

“I think I’ve had enough trouble for one day,” Elain said and her eyes finally snagged on the creature, lying in a heap across the grounds. Her hands unintentionally tightened on Lucien as she eyed the dagger still stuck in the creature’s throat and once again, she couldn’t believe she had done it. 

Lucien’s gaze followed hers and she felt his own hand tighten on her before he went back to scanning her face. “It seems a stab in the neck is to become your signature move.” he said lightly and Elain’s face heated. 

“Twice is not enough to make it a signature move.”

“For someone who doesn’t fight often, twice is more than enough to become a signature move,” he said with a snort. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

“Considering you saved me today, I think you’re safe for now,” she said softly and Lucien seemed unable to help his chuckle. 

“I hardly did any saving, my lady,” he said with a small smile, his tone as soft as hers. “You did that all on your own.” 

And as Elain flushed deeply, she realized how long they’d been standing there, chest to chest just holding each other. The last time she had been held by him was that wretched day in Hybern and despite all the time and distance that had been between them, Elain seemed to feel nothing but ease to be held by him.

They stood for a few more heartbeats of silence, content to be just like this and Elain wondered if this was what the mating bond was always supposed to feel like. If she had been denying herself of this feeling she had always been craving.

She could hear the steady beat of his heart and while she was used to it being the lullaby that usually put her to sleep, Elain knew that wouldn’t be enough anymore. 

“Let’s get you out of here and get cleaned up.” Lucien finally said gently and Elain nodded, knowing she should pull away but found herself hesitating to do so. He seemed to feel the same way as his hand casually tightened. “We wouldn’t want anyone to worry about you.” 

At this moment, Elain didn’t really care who worried about her. Goodness knows how long had passed before they noticed she’d gone missing anyway. 

But he noticed her. He seemed to always notice her. 

So she couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Will you…stay with me?” 

Lucien tried to mask the hope that flashed across his face by clearing his throat but Elain saw it – felt it and knew she asked the right question. “If that’s what you’d like me to do,” he said.

“It is,” she replied, her voice more sure than she’d ever been. “I would like that very much.”

His answering smile had warmth spread through her chest. “Then I am happy to oblige,” he said. “I am at your service, my lady.” 

#elain archeron #lucien vanserra #elucien #elucien fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #gfics #I didn't tag anyone who liked the post because I didn't want to assume haha #I hope you all like it :) #fic: this time I'm ready

[shadowdaddies]

Pirates of the Caribbean AU with Elain as Elizabeth Swann and Lucien as Will Turner

#someone write it please #Elucien #acotar #acotar fanfiction #elucien fanfiction

[starsreminisce]

“is it bad that I HC that Gwyn and Lucien end up bonding over being two AC exiles for Az and Elain to be like... why are they even friends? Just for them to be like "dude, we're cousins"

what I would give to see this LOL just putting this out in the universe: someone pls write this!!

I had this cooking and finally got it in a place I liked. Putting this out in the universe too if anyone wanted to write this HC! Heavy on Elucien but maybe part two - choose your adventure kind? Maybe?

Hope you enjoy!

Lucien stood in the softly lit room, a tapestry of emotions etched across his features. He furrowed his brow and pursed his lips in deep contemplation, a slight furrow between his brows, his thoughts churning like a tempestuous sea. Across from him, Feyre watched him with a trace of annoyance, her eyes narrowing as they darted between him and the four meticulously wrapped presents he had placed on the ornate table in the center of the room.

Her voice was tinged with a mix of frustration and curiosity as she probed, "So you really aren't going to show up to the Solstice party tonight?"

Lucien, leaning against the table, exhaled a deep sigh and offered a nonchalant shrug, his eyes not quite meeting hers. "I've made other plans," he replied, his voice tinged with an air of mystery.

Feyre's exasperation grew, her gaze fixed on him. "With who? We lent you the townhouse so you could be with Vassa and Jurian. So, they'll be here, and you'll be where?"

Lucien hesitated, choosing his words carefully before he reluctantly responded, "Not here."

"Lucien," Feyre's tone turned more insistent, a mix of concern and frustration lacing her words.

Lucien gritted his teeth, the painful truth lingering unspoken. The prospect of enduring another Solstice haunted him, the weight of pretending that Elain's indifference didn't affect him becoming unbearable. The anticipation of witnessing her distant gaze, as if she wished he were anywhere but there, compounded the pain. Gifting her another token of his affections only to receive silence in return seemed like a masochistic cycle.

His mechanical eye clicked softly as he tried to maintain composure, "You're mad at me over something else."

Feyre's frustration softened into a weary sigh. She stepped closer, her voice laced with genuine concern, "You've been here for a week, Lucien, and we haven't even had dinner together. Do I need to make an appointment for you to have dinner with us over the next week?"

"I am sorry," Lucien admitted, his voice laced with sincerity and a hint of regret. "People heard I'm on vacation and wanted to catch up."

Feyre's frown deepened as she studied him, a mix of sympathy and irritation dancing in her eyes. "I didn't realize you were so popular."

Lucien extended his hands in a gesture of surrender, his palms exposed in a placating manner. "If I don't get too caught up where I am, I promise I'll stop by. Is that fair?"

“You're not spending the night here? But it’s tradition,” Feyre protested, her voice a touch wistful.

Lucien shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of his choices press upon him. “It seems rude to come back here when everyone is asleep.”

Feyre considered his words for a moment before reluctantly nodding her head, the tension in the room easing slightly. She understood his reasons, even if she didn't entirely agree with them.

Lucien couldn't help but flash a warm, reassuring grin as he closed the gap between them, embracing Feyre gently. "Happy Birthday Solstice."

Feyre returned his hug, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Please stop by. It'll make me happy."

—-

Elain returned from shopping, her heart sinking as she caught a whiff of Lucien's signature spiced scent, reminiscent of mulled wine, lingering in the air. She inhaled sharply, her gaze drawn to the four beautifully wrapped presents on the table. She hadn't bought him a gift during her last excursion, and the feeling of dread settled in the pit of her stomach. She knew that Lucien's generosity only deepened the guilt she felt, a silent reminder of a connection she had been avoiding.

Suppressing her unease, she sucked in a steadying breath and returned to the kitchen to focus on finishing her cooking. She silently prayed that the night would go smoothly, and that Lucien wouldn't try to engage her in conversation.

The day wore on, and Elain became absorbed in the meticulous preparation of the Solstice meal. She took pride in her improved kitchen skills but couldn't help feeling a touch weary, knowing that she had to anticipate four more guests than usual. Her mind wandered briefly to the mysterious presents on the table, wondering what they held and why Lucien had left them.

As she let the last dish cool, she decided it was time to change into something more festive, even though her heart wasn't fully in the celebration. She heard the first guests arriving, their laughter and chatter filling the air. Elain made her way to the staircase, her steps hesitant.

Before she could reach the stairs, she came face to face with Azriel, the same spot where he had uttered those words that had pierced her heart.

“Happy Solstice,” she said, forcing a cheerful note into her voice.

“Happy Solstice,” he replied, his voice soft and filled with an emotion she couldn't quite place.

Elain gave a curt nod and began to ascend the stairs when she heard him say, “Elain, wait.”

She turned back to him, her eyebrows raised, waiting for him to say something, to bridge the chasm that had grown between them. He only looked at her, his shoulders slumped, but still, no words came forth.

“Excuse me, I have to get ready,” she said, her tone a mixture of politeness and distance. Azriel nodded in understanding, and with a heavy heart, Elain continued her journey up the stairs, hoping that the night wouldn't bring about more painful conversations.

Elain took her time getting ready, feeling the weight of her avoidance weigh on her as she prepared for the evening. She knew that she was deliberately sidestepping the issue, and as she made her way back down the stairs, she couldn't help but notice the conspicuous absence in the room.

A gnawing unease settled in her stomach as she looked around the dinner table, the first of many singular questions on her mind. Still, her pride held her back from voicing them aloud.

“Where is Lucien?” Nesta asked, her sharp observation marking his absence.

“Not here,” Feyre replied, her tone carrying a hint of mockery as she took a sip of wine.

Elain furrowed her brows as she took a seat, and Nesta pressed on, glancing towards Vassa and Jurian. “So where is he?”

Vassa and Jurian exchanged a glance and then looked up at the ceiling as if it held the answers they sought. “He mentioned where he might be.”

“Summer Court to visit Alis?” Vassa suggested.

Jurian frowned, deep in thought. “That was last week. I think he’s at Dawn Court with Nuan.”

“No,” Vassa shook her head. “Nuan was earlier in the week. Didn’t Eris say he wanted to meet up with him?”

“I thought he met up with Eris right before Hewn City Solstice,” Cassian chimed in.

“Viviane invited him to their Winter Solstice celebration,” Mor finally answered, unraveling the mystery.

Feyre's expression soured. “So he would rather be at some high-class shindig than here with family? No wonder why he didn’t want to tell me.”

Rhys, ever diplomatic, gave a sympathetic smile towards his mate. “Their celebrations are quite fantastic. A little formal but at least he’s not in Day with their drinking, dancing and dallying debauchery.”

Elain's clenched fists revealed the turmoil within her as the reality of Lucien's absence settled in. She had known all along what it meant, though she had refused to admit it to herself.

“Am I too late?” a voice broke the tension, making Nesta and her friend, Emerie, jump up with excitement.

Elain looked up to see a copper-haired female with a stunning pair of teal eyes hesitantly entering the dining room. Gwyn, she recalled the name. Gwyn sheepishly smiled and exchanged a warm hug with Nesta before finding a seat near them. She then cast a glance towards Azriel, who responded with a grateful smile.

However, that smile quickly vanished, replaced by irritation, when Gwyn inquired, “Lucien’s not here?”

“Evidently not,” Nesta snorted. “We aren't high class enough for him these days.”

Gwyn pouted, a hint of disappointment in her expression. “That's too bad. I was hoping to see him.”

Dinner proceeded smoothly, the atmosphere filled with stories and anecdotes about Lucien's year. Elain couldn't help but grow increasingly irritated as she noticed Gwyn's evident fascination with her mate. Vassa and Jurian happily contributed to the conversation, sharing stories about Lucien that painted a picture of him quite different from the one Elain had imagined.

There were tales of Lucien chasing Tamlin in his beast form to coax him into eat, moments when Lucien had to babysit a drunken Graysen, instances where Lucien's sharp wit had managed to persuade the council to agree in record time, and even times when Lucien and Eris had raised their voices, causing the very house to rumble with their power.

Elain attempted to engage in the various conversations swirling around her, but it seemed that everyone else was preoccupied. Azriel, in particular, was focused on catching Gwyn's attention, while Feyre, Rhysand, Cassian, and Nesta appeared eager to escape for some private moments. Mor and Emerie were engaged in playful flirtation, and Jurian and Vassa seemed entranced by their own private world as they discussed their observations of the fae realm with Varian and Amren.

Elain needed something to divert her thoughts from the realization that she missed Lucien. The longing in her heart was something she couldn't quite comprehend, and it left her feeling adrift in a sea of emotions.

The party eventually transitioned to the spacious living room, where the conversations continued to fill the air. Elain's gaze kept drifting toward Azriel, who was engrossed in a deep conversation with Gwyn. Feyre clapped her hands together and excitedly declared that it was time to open presents. Rhysand snapped his fingers, conjuring even more presents to join the ones Lucien had already placed on the table. Elain's excitement grew, wondering how well the presents she had chosen for her family would be received and suddenly eager to see what Lucien had prepared for her.

As the presents were distributed and unwrapped, Elain found herself delighted with a new cookbook, some shiny baking ware, and a set of gardening tools. Her heart warmed as she felt the gentle tickle of her bond with Lucien, the familiar spiced scent of her mate washing over her.

“Lucien!” Gwyn exclaimed, leaving Azriel behind to give Elain’s mate a warm hug. Elain had to summon all her self-control to keep herself from pulling Gwyn away from Lucien.

He looked impeccable, wearing cream-colored pants, high black boots, and a periwinkle jacket adorned with small snowflakes, and a cravat to complete the outfit. Of course, his attire perfectly complemented Elain’s lavender dress.

“You came!” Feyre greeted him with a bright smile, her arms enveloping Lucien warmly as he returned the gesture with a grin that reached his eyes, reflecting the warmth of the hearth.

“Had to,” Lucien replied with a playful wink, his voice carrying a hint of mischief. “A certain someone might melt my mind tomorrow if I didn’t show.”

Rhysand, ever composed, responded coolly, his sapphire eyes glinting with amusement, “I said nothing of the sort.”

Feyre quickly steered the conversation toward the exchange of presents, her voice eager as she anticipated the joy of the moment. Lucien's smile faltered slightly as he settled into his seat, his features becoming more guarded.

He kept his expression neutral as the last few presents were revealed, his gaze shifting between his friends with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. Feyre shifted around, her brow furrowing in confusion before her gaze landed on Lucien, who simply blinked and then looked at Elain, a silent plea for understanding in her eyes.

The first present was a small box for Cassian, wrapped with care and adorned with a simple bow. As Cassian cautiously opened it, his fingers grazing the delicate paper, he discovered it contained only a calling card. "What's this?" he asked, perplexed, his voice a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

Lucien grinned mischievously, the corners of his lips quirking up in amusement. "The name of my tailor. About time you start dressing the part of a courtier in colors that compliment black," he teased, his tone light but tinged with affection.

Cassian's eyes lit up as he whooped in delight, his laughter filling the room like a warm breeze. He threw Lucien a playful grin and said, “I got you something, pretty boy.”

She felt her heart sink when he uttered, “I think that’s my first present,” the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air like a stormcloud on the horizon.

It sank even further when his face broke into a huge smile upon opening his present. Cassian gifted him a set of Illyrian blades, the metal glinting in the soft glow of the fire. He looked at the set of daggers, marveling at the gems embedded in the steel, his admiration shining in his eyes like the sun in the blue sky.

“I was laughed at, by the way,” Cassian said, his voice tinged with amusement. “But Feyre made sure to point out that you like jewels with your blades,” he added, his grin widening as he recalled the memory.

Elain frowned, her mind racing with thoughts she struggled to articulate. She didn’t know that about him, a realization that left her feeling strangely disconnected from the moment unfolding before her.

The second present was a book for Nesta, wrapped in elegant paper and tied with a delicate ribbon. Nesta's eyes widened in surprise, her lips parting in astonishment. "Is this what I think it is?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her fingers trembling as she reached out to touch the spine.

Lucien nodded with a smile, his gaze softening as he watched her reaction with a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty.

Nesta examined the book with a mixture of awe and disbelief, her fingers tracing the embossed letters on the cover. Then, with a sudden burst of enthusiasm, she exclaimed, "But this is rare, and you hate this book. This is my favorite book."

She went on to describe the rarity of the edition, her words tumbling out in a rush of excitement and gratitude. Elain listened intently, her heart aching with a strange mixture of longing and regret.

Nesta turned to him and smiled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I got you something too,” she teased, her tone playful yet with affection.

The color drained from Lucien’s face as he accepted the gift, his fingers trembling slightly as he unwrapped it with care. Elain watched as Lucien winced while Nesta thoroughly enjoyed his reaction, a sense of unease settling over her like a shadow.

Lucien groaned and held up the book to Nesta, his expression a mixture of disbelief and resignation. Elain's heart twisted with sympathy as she witnessed the exchange, her emotions swirling like leaves in the autumn wind.

“Really?” He asked, his eyes betraying a mixture of surprise and amusement.

Nesta lifted her chin defiantly, her gaze unwavering as she met his gaze head-on. “You can not not read a gift. It’s my favorite book,” she countered.

“Favorite book? You just said that the one I got you was your favorite,” Lucien pointed out, a hint of confusion coloring his words.

“I can have multiple favorites,” Nesta replied matter-of-factly.

Lucien frowned and started to flip towards the end of the book, his curiosity getting the better of him. Nesta lunged at him, her laughter echoing in the room as she tried to pry the book away from him. Elain tried to remain calm as she watched Nesta straddle him, a sense of unease settling over her like a shroud.

“No one dies,” said Nesta, her voice filled with laughter as she tried to reassure him. “I promise!”

Too close, Elain thought, her heart pounding in her chest like a drumbeat. They were too close, the air thick with tension and unspoken emotions. She glanced towards an agitated Cassian, his expression mirroring her own concerns.

“Can you please get off my mate?” Cassian interjected, his voice laced with amusement yet tinged with concern.

“She’s on top of me!” Lucien protested, his words muffled by Nesta's laughter.

“No one dies in this one, Lucien,” Emerie confirmed, her tone reassuring. Nesta pulled herself away from him, her laughter echoing in the room like a melody.

The third present was a play bow and arrow for Nyx, the wooden toy gleaming in the soft light of the fire. The little boy's face lit up with excitement, his eyes sparkling with delight as he reached out to touch the gift with wonder.

Gwyn’s eyes widened in surprise as Feyre peered into the present, her expression a mixture of curiosity and admiration. Elain chewed on her cheek nervously as Gwyn and Lucien exchanged a knowing look, their unspoken understanding hanging in the air like a veil.

“Autumn Court tradition,” Lucien explained. “When we reach his age, we choose the weapon that becomes our weapon to master. Not surprising that your son picked that.”

The last present was a package of the molten chocolate Alis used to make for Feyre, the sweet aroma filling the room like a comforting embrace. It brought tears to her eyes, her emotions overwhelming her in a tidal wave of nostalgia and gratitude.

Four presents from Lucien. None of them were hers.

“I guess that’s it for presents,” Feyre said, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, the weight of disappointment hanging heavy in the air like a lingering fog.

The unspoken weight of Lucien's deliberate omission of a gift for Elain lingered heavily, casting an uncomfortable tension that no one seemed willing to address. Elain felt an isolating sense as she sat there, her emotions swirling, sensing the collective gaze upon her. Lucien resumed chatting with Gwyn.

Desperate for reprieve from the scrutiny of her family's concerned gazes, Elain fought to maintain a composed facade, pretending that she was unfazed by the absence of a gift from her mate. With a small, forced smile, she excused herself under the pretense of needing a moment alone.

"I just remembered I left something in the kitchen. I'll be right back," she said softly, her voice barely trembling.

As she left the room and retreated to the kitchen, her heart ached with the weight of the unanswered questions and the awkwardness that had settled between her and Lucien. The sense of rejection and disappointment gnawed at her, but she was determined to keep up the appearance of being fine.

In the kitchen, Elain took a moment to gather herself, her breaths deep and measured as she fought to suppress the tumult of emotions swirling within her. She reminded herself sternly that she hadn't purchased any gifts for Lucien either, though the hope that the presents were meant for her persisted, stubbornly clinging to her thoughts. As her heartbeat slowed and her breathing steadied, she cast a glance at the untouched cake, resolving that it was time to present it to the guests.

Just as she was about to leave the kitchen, she froze upon catching snippets of conversation between Feyre and Lucien in the adjacent room.

"You humiliated her," Feyre's accusation rang out, sharp and cutting.

Lucien's response was swift, his tone tinged with defensiveness, "I would never intend to humiliate her. I merely thought—"

Feyre interrupted, her voice edged with disbelief, "Thought what, Lucien?"

His reply was clipped, filled with frustration, "That perhaps Azriel could offer her the comfort she deserves."

Feyre's confusion was palpable as she questioned, "Why Azriel?"

The tension in Lucien's voice was unmistakable, "Do I really need to spell it out for you, Feyre?"

As the conversation unfolded, Elain's heart raced once more, a surge of anger coursing through her veins. She retreated from the door, her steps quick and purposeful, only to find herself face to face with Feyre upon her entrance.

"What's going on between you and Lucien? And now Azriel?" Feyre's concern was evident in her gaze.

Elain's response was terse, her tone firm, "Nothing. It's nothing."

Feyre's expression softened, but her concern lingered, "Elain, please—"

Elain's patience snapped, her voice laced with frustration, "I said it's nothing."

She turned her back on Feyre, her resolve firm as she focused on finishing the cake. Each movement was deliberate, her hands working with precision as she willed Feyre to understand, hoping her sister would take the hint and leave her be. The tension between them hung thick in the air, an unspoken barrier dividing their shared space. She heard Feyre sigh, a sound heavy with unresolved emotions.

Once Feyre departed, Elain finished the cake with meticulous care, her hands moving with practiced ease despite the turmoil brewing within her. Placing it on a table, she plastered a smile on her face, though the weight of unresolved tensions lingered heavily still. Her gaze wandered across the room, seeking solace in the familiar faces of her companions.

She spotted Lucien, Gwyn, Vassa, and Jurian engrossed in a serious conversation, their expressions grave and their voices hushed. A pang of anxiety gripped her heart as she watched them, sensing the weight of their discussion. And then, her eyes landed on Azriel, standing alone in the corner, his posture rigid and his eyes fixed on Lucien with an intensity that made Elain uneasy.

Feeling a surge of recklessness fueled by anger and frustration, Elain made her way towards Azriel, each step a silent declaration of her determination to confront the palpable tension between them.

Elain's voice carried a hint of defiance as she initiated the conversation, her eyes fixed on Azriel's distant gaze, refusing to be ignored.

"Can we talk?" she pressed, her tone tinged with urgency, a silent plea for understanding.

Azriel's silence was deafening, his demeanor unyielding, but Elain persisted, repeating her question with growing impatience, her gaze sharpening with determination.

"What do you want to talk about?" Azriel's response was measured, his voice betraying a subtle tension beneath the calm facade.

Before Elain could formulate a response, Gwyn's laughter filled the room, momentarily distracting them from their exchange. With Vassa and Jurian engrossed in the allure of cake, Elain and Azriel observed in silence as Gwyn playfully interacted with Lucien, their laughter forming a barrier between them.

Elain's heart twisted with a pang of jealousy as she watched Lucien's easy camaraderie with Gwyn, the contrast to their own strained dynamic stark in her mind. Beside her, she sensed Azriel's clenched fists, his emotions bubbling beneath the surface.

Struggling to break through the tension, Elain blurted out the words that had been weighing on her mind, her voice barely a whisper but heavy with significance.

"You like Gwyn," she murmured, the admission hanging in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the complexities that lay between them, fraught with unspoken desires and unaddressed feelings.

Elain observed the subtle softening of Azriel's features at the mention of Gwyn's name, his gaze drifting back toward the pair engaged in lighthearted banter. Gwyn's laughter rang out like a bell, a melody that seemed to tug at Azriel's heartstrings, while Lucien's grin radiated warmth and charm, drawing her in like a moth to a flame.

"I do," Azriel admitted, his voice tinged with a mixture of resignation and longing. His eyes remained fixed on Gwyn, a silent testament to the depths of his unspoken affection.

Her heart clenched at his confession, the realization dawning upon her with painful clarity. She shifted uncomfortably, fingers nervously toying with the fabric of her skirt, the soft rustle of the fabric a stark contrast to the heavy silence that enveloped them.

"But I thought... I thought that you liked me," she ventured quietly, unable to mask the hurt in her voice. 

Azriel's gaze fell to his scarred hands, his expression guarded, revealing a vulnerability that cut through the shadows shrouding his usual demeanor. Elain felt a pang of sorrow as she witnessed his internal struggle, the unspoken acknowledgment that she had never been enough for him.

She sucked in a shaky breath, blinking back the tears threatening to spill. Despite her diminishing affections, the sting of rejection still lingered, a bitter reminder of what could never be.

Forcing a strained smile, she offered a feeble reassurance, "Lucien is mated to me, so I doubt you have to worry about that." The words felt hollow on her tongue, a feeble attempt to mask the ache in her heart.

A soft chuckle escaped Azriel's lips before his attention returned to the scene before them, where Lucien's grin contrasted sharply with Gwyn's horrified expression as she playfully chastised him. The warmth of the fire cast flickering shadows across their faces, lending an air of intimacy to the moment.

"Perhaps it's my punishment," Azriel mused quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Lucien puts her at ease." The flames danced in his eyes, reflecting the turmoil of his inner thoughts.

Elain's heart ached at his admission, the realization sinking in that she had been blind to the depth of Lucien's impact on Gwyn. She watched the pair with a mixture of envy and resignation, her own feelings tangled in a web of unspoken desires and unfulfilled longing.

Azriel's voice held a note of self-recrimination as he continued, his words heavy with regret, "I was arrogant enough to think that because you weren't interested in him, he wasn't deserving to be your mate. But look how he makes her laugh and smile." Each word felt like a dagger to Elain's heart, a painful reminder of what she had lost.

"I don’t... I don’t give her that," Azriel confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "A year ago, she didn't like being touched by any male. She could barely handle being alone with another male, and I was surprised she allowed me to stay with her. But next thing I knew, she was talking about Lucien, and how she was helping him, and then they spent so much time alone together." The confession hung heavy in the air, a silent testament to the depth of his longing.

Elain's breath caught in her throat as Azriel's anguish became palpable, his clenched fists betraying the depth of his torment. The soft glow of the fire cast flickering shadows across their faces, lending an air of intimacy to the moment.

"I thought it hurt being the only one among my brothers not mated, but nothing compares to watching someone fall in love and knowing I can't stop it," he confessed, his voice thick with emotion. The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of unspoken regrets and unfulfilled desires.

"But he's mated to me," Elain reiterated, her words a feeble attempt to anchor herself amidst the storm of conflicting emotions. The flames danced in Azriel's eyes, reflecting the turmoil of his inner thoughts.

"I know," Azriel sighed, his gaze never leaving the pair across the room. "That's what makes it hurts much more." The words lingered between them, a silent acknowledgment of the pain that bound them together.

As they continued to watch, a sense of longing and regret enveloped them both, their unspoken words echoing in the empty spaces between them, a silent testament to the pain of unrequited love and shattered dreams.

---

Lucien felt the weight of Azriel's presence, intertwined with Elain's, tugging at the edges of his consciousness. Though the bond between them pulsed with a muted ache of longing and melancholy, Lucien found it difficult to fully comprehend, given the circumstances. After all, Elain was with Azriel now, having chosen him.

“He’s with her,” Gwyn observed, her tone tinged with a hint of melancholy.

“He doesn't seem that happy,” Lucien remarked, his voice betraying a touch of sympathy.

It was a familiar sight for Lucien, accustomed to witnessing the complexities of their relationship. But for Gwyn, it was a stark realization, one that had taken time for her to come to terms with. She had confided in Lucien about her growing feelings for the shadowsinger, unable to ignore the tension whenever Azriel and Elain were together. Gwyn had attempted to broach the topic with Nesta, only to be met with dismissal, as if Elain's bond with Lucien precluded any possibility of her being with Azriel.

Their conversation drifted back to the library, where Lucien had sought Gwyn's assistance with Vassa's curse. It was there that they had forged an unexpected connection, their shared lineage serving as a bond that transcended their individual struggles. Learning that they were cousins had provided a sense of solace, uniting them as kindred spirits navigating their intertwined destinies.

Lucien had become Gwyn's confidant, offering sage advice and a sympathetic ear as she grappled with her feelings for Azriel. While Nesta and Emerie remained oblivious to the underlying tensions, Lucien understood the turmoil brewing beneath the surface, a silent witness to Gwyn's unspoken desires.

As their friendship blossomed, Lucien found comfort in Gwyn's companionship, grateful for the understanding she offered. Yet, he couldn't shake the sense of irony in their situation - while Gwyn found safehaven in confiding her feelings for Azriel, Lucien found himself drawn deeper into his own unspoken longing for Elain.

“Are you leaving soon?” Gwyn inquired, her voice tinged with a hint of reluctance.

Lucien nodded solemnly. “I am.”

“Can you take me back?” Gwyn's request was accompanied by a note of uncertainty, as if she feared intruding on his time.

“Are you sure? You spent the entire time talking to me,” Lucien remarked, a teasing smile playing at his lips.

“That's because you're family and mated and…” Gwyn's voice trailed off, her words laden with unspoken implications.

Elain's beauty was undeniable, a fact that hung heavy in the air between them. Lucien offered her a gentle smile, his heart heavy with unspoken longing. “Okay. I'll say goodbye to the others, but I think it'll be worth saying goodbye to him too, even with her there.”

----

Elain's heart skipped a beat as Lucien rose from his seat and strode confidently toward Feyre and Rhysand. Gwyn, her presence hesitant, approached Elain and Azriel, her smile radiant yet tinged with uncertainty. Her fingers nervously played with the hem of her cloak as she glanced between Lucien and Azriel, sensing the tension in the air like a palpable force.

Azriel, usually composed, straightened in his chair, his gaze fixed on Gwyn with an intensity that Elain couldn't ignore. His hazel eyes bore into Gwyn's, silently questioning her decision to leave with Lucien.

“I’m leaving,” Gwyn announced, her voice like a delicate melody in the tense air. The words hung in the space between them, laden with unspoken implications.

“With Lucien?” Azriel's tone dripped with bitterness, his eyes darting between Gwyn and Lucien. Elain observed the subtle tension in his jaw, a testament to his internal struggle.

Gwyn affirmed with a subtle nod, her eyes flickering towards Lucien, who had now joined her. The hesitant smile on her lips betrayed her uncertainty, contrasting with the determination in Lucien's expression.

“Ready?” Lucien's voice cut through the awkward tension, his eyes deliberately avoiding Elain's. She noted the slight furrow of his brow, a sign of the turmoil beneath his confident facade.

Elain tried to focus on the conversation, but her attention drifted to the simple piece of string adorning Lucien’s wrist. Its significance eluded her, a stark contrast to the complexities swirling within her own mind.

Her thoughts were interrupted as Lucien suddenly seemed engrossed in the space between Azriel and Gwyn. Elain observed his subtle gestures, sensing a flicker of recognition in his expression. The tension between them was palpable, adding an undercurrent of unease to the situation.

Then, as if a realization had dawned upon him, Lucien spoke with conviction, “I think Azriel should take you home.” His words resonated in the air, breaking the uneasy silence and igniting a spark of hope within Elain.

His gaze shifted to Azriel, who nodded in agreement. “Yes, he should take you home,” Lucien added, his tone final. Elain watched the exchange with bated breath, her heart pounding in her chest.

But Gwyn's response was unexpected. “Nooooo,” she protested sheepishly, “I asked you.”

Elain felt a surge of determination rise within her, spurred by the sudden turn of events. “I can’t... because…” Lucien faltered, searching for words, but Elain found herself finishing his sentence, her voice unwavering.

“Because he forgot that... I am... joining him,” she declared firmly, her gaze locked with Lucien's. The weight of her words hung in the air, a silent plea for understanding.

Lucien's surprise was evident, his brows knitting together in a moment of realization, yet Elain pressed on, her determination unyielding.

“You've been running around the past few days with your vacation, but don’t you remember?” she challenged him, her voice edged with urgency, each word a pointed arrow aimed at his comprehension.

His response was hesitant, his eyes widening in gradual recognition, like two pools slowly catching the first light of dawn. “You knew I was on vacation?” he questioned, his tone heavy with disbelief, the weight of his realization palpable in the air.

Elain met his gaze with an unyielding glare, her eyes flickering with an intensity akin to smoldering embers, silently urging him to grasp the truth that lay before him.

“Yes… that's right…that's what you wanted as your present,” Lucien continued, his voice faltering slightly as he wove through the web of their shared deception, the weight of his words hanging in the charged atmosphere between them.

Gwyn's frown deepened, her brows knitting together in suspicion, as though she could see through the facade with uncanny clarity. But Lucien pressed on, his resolve unyielding, his determination etched into the lines of his face.

“We are going to be late,” Elain pushed, her voice firm and commanding, a note of urgency coloring her words as she tried to steer the conversation back on track, her fingers tapping anxiously against her thigh.

“Az… Azriel… Az … riel … can I trust you to take my cousin home?” Lucien implored, his tone tinged with desperation, his gaze shifting to Azriel with a silent plea for assistance.

Azriel's brow furrowed in confusion, his expression a portrait of perplexity as he processed the sudden revelation. “Cousin?” he repeated, his voice tinged with uncertainty, his mind racing to make sense of the revelation.

His eyes flickered with a glimmer of hope as Lucien turned to Gwyn with a scowl, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. “You never told him we were cousins?” he accused, his tone tinged with exasperation, a note of betrayal seeping into his words.

Gwyn remained impassive, her lips pursed in a tight line as she met Lucien's glare with a steely resolve, her silence speaking volumes in the charged atmosphere. But Lucien pressed on, his frustration mounting with each passing moment.

“Never… Never…” Lucien muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose in a futile attempt to stave off the rising tide of irritation, his patience wearing thin as the tension continued to mount. "You valkyries are going to kill me," he added with a wry twist of irony, a weary sigh escaping his lips.

Azriel's lips twitched in amusement, a ghost of a smile dancing across his features as he observed the unfolding drama with quiet interest. "You should try training them," he remarked dryly, his voice laced with subtle humor, a hint of mischief glinting in his eyes.

Gwyn's smile was tight-lipped, her gaze flickering uncertainly between Lucien and Azriel, silently weighing her options. Sensing her hesitation, Lucien intervened, his tone softened by a note of gratitude.

Lucien, noticing her hesitation, amended, "I owe you one session if you go with him." Elain could see the tension melting away from Gwyn's shoulders, a sense of satisfaction blooming within her like a flower in bloom.

Gwyn's expression shifted to smugness. "Two now." Elain couldn't help but smile at Gwyn's playful banter, the tension dissipating like mist in the morning sun.

"I knew your bracelet came with a price. Fine. Two. It’s settled. I’ll see you not tomorrow.” Lucien's resignation hung heavy in the air, a sense of defeat settling over him like a heavy cloak.

As Lucien turned to leave, Gwyn interjected, her voice cutting through the silence like a knife. “Should you be taking Elain?” she asked, her words hanging in the air like a challenge, a subtle undercurrent of doubt coloring her tone.

Elain and Lucien locked eyes, a silent exchange passing between them. In that moment, a myriad of unspoken emotions danced between them, their gazes lingering a fraction longer than necessary, conveying a depth of understanding that words could not capture.

“Yes, because I said I would,” Lucien stammered, his voice strained with a mixture of apprehension and determination. He held Elain's gaze, his eyes searching hers for any sign of hesitation or doubt.

Heat flushed at Elain’s cheeks, a rush of warmth spreading across her face as she realized the significance of the moment. This would be the first time she would be alone with him, the weight of anticipation heavy in the air, uncertainty mingling with excitement in her chest.

“Yes,” Elain said, her voice steady despite the fluttering of her heart. “And I said we should leave now.” With a firm nod, she affirmed her decision, steeling herself for whatever lay ahead.

Lucien hesitantly offered his arm, a silent invitation hanging between them. Elain reached out, her fingers brushing against his in a fleeting touch, a spark igniting between them as they made contact. She felt all eyes on them, the weight of expectation heavy in the air as they walked out the door together, stepping into the unknown.

“You don’t have to come with me,” Lucien said, his voice strained with a mixture of apprehension and longing, his gaze searching hers for any sign of hesitation.

“They are going to be asking me where you took me, so might as well come along,” Elain replied, her grip tightening on his arm, her fingers tracing the contours of his muscles beneath the fabric of his sleeve.

Lucien sighed, a mixture of resignation and gratitude in his breath, the weight of their impending journey hanging heavy in the air. Despite the uncertainty that lay ahead, a small, genuine smile played at the corners of his lips, a testament to the trust he placed in Elain's judgment. "You're right," he conceded, his voice soft yet tinged with a hint of amusement. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

Elain furrowed her brow, her expression a mix of accusation and curiosity. "You were in Day, were you?" she questioned, her tone laced with a hint of skepticism.

Lucien stilled, his demeanor shifting slightly at the mention of Day. "What do you know about their celebration?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Drinking, dancing, and dallying debauchery," Elain replied matter-of-factly, her words laced with a touch of dry humor.

A faint blush crept onto Lucien's cheeks at her blunt assessment. "I wasn't there," he admitted, his voice tinged with a hint of embarrassment. "I was in Winter."

"So we are going back to Winter?" Elain inquired, her brow furrowing slightly as she processed the information.

"Ah, no. We are going to Day," Lucien clarified, his tone hesitant yet resolute.

Elain's lips formed a thin line, her features masking her inner turmoil as she absorbed Lucien's words. "For that... dallying debauchery?" she questioned, her tone betraying a hint of skepticism, her eyes searching his for any sign of deceit.

Lucien's brow furrowed, a fleeting shadow of defensiveness crossing his countenance. "I am mated to you. I would never dream of being with someone else," he assured her earnestly, his words laden with sincerity. "But yes, that's where we are going."

Elain remained silent, her thoughts swirling tumultuously as she wrestled with the implications of his admission. Lucien couldn't help but notice the subtle shift in her demeanor, a blend of uncertainty and something more enigmatic, a mystery he longed to unravel.

"Interesting that's where your mind went to," he commented, a note of curiosity coloring his voice as he observed her reaction, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Elain's glare intensified, her gaze piercing as they winnowed away to Day Court's celebration, the tension between them simmering beneath the surface, unresolved and fraught with unspoken emotions.

#elucien #elain x lucien #gwynriel #elucien fanfiction #elucien fanfic #gwynriel fanfiction #gwynriel fanfic

[teddyhoneybear]

𝓓𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓔𝓵𝓪𝓲𝓷,

𝓐𝓽𝓽𝓪𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓵𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓭 𝓪 𝓽𝓾𝓵𝓲𝓹, 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓶𝔂 𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓲𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓷𝓽, 𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓬𝓱 𝓘 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓼𝓪𝓿𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓪 𝓫𝓸𝓸𝓴 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓼𝓪𝓯𝓮 𝓴𝓮𝓮𝓹𝓲𝓷𝓰. 𝓘’𝓭 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓽𝓸 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓲𝓽.

𝓓𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓛𝓾𝓬𝓲𝓮𝓷,

𝓦𝓲𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓰𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓸𝓸 𝓶𝓾𝓬𝓱 𝓪𝔀𝓪𝔂, 𝓪𝓼 𝓪 𝓵𝓪𝓭𝔂 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓶𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓼𝓮𝓬𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓼, 𝓘 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓮𝓵𝓵 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓾𝓵𝓲𝓹 𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓪 𝓫𝓸𝓸𝓴 𝓸𝓯 𝓹𝓸𝓮𝓶𝓼 𝓸𝓷 𝓶𝔂 𝓫𝓮𝓭𝓼𝓲𝓭𝓮 𝓽𝓪𝓫𝓵𝓮, 𝓪𝓼 𝓲𝓽 𝓼𝓮𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓭 𝓯𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓰𝓲𝓿𝓮𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓪𝓰𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓪𝓬𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓹𝓪𝓷𝓲𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓽. 𝓘 𝓭𝓮𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓪𝓷 𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓪𝓵 𝓵𝓸𝓬𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓮𝓪𝓼𝔂 𝓪𝓬𝓬𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓽𝓸 𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓴 𝓾𝓹𝓸𝓷 𝓲𝓽 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓘 𝓭𝓮𝓼𝓲𝓻𝓮𝓭, 𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓬𝓱 𝓶𝓪𝔂 𝓸𝓻 𝓶𝓪𝔂 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓫𝓮 𝓸𝓯𝓽𝓮𝓷.

Inspired by Dear Lucien, Dear Elain: An Epistolary Fic by @crazy-ache and @zenkindoflove

#i hope I made it justice #and i really encourage everyone to read this #it's the type of reading that goes perfect with a cup of tea in the morning #i tried to include gifs #trying new things #so hard to find pictures of pressed tulips omg #i never thought I'd be nervous while making a mood board #elucien fanfiction #elucien #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #elucien moodboard #lucien and elain #lucien x elain #elain acotar #acotar elain #elain x lucien #lucien acotar #pro elucien #pro elain #pro lucien #acotar #acotar series #pro lucien vanserra

[the-lonelybarricade]

Breaking & Entering - (2/2)

Summary: Before the room was swallowed into darkness, she found her eyes drifting towards the entryway, listening to the heartbeat that drifted to her through the wooden door. It followed her all the way to the House of Wind. And in her sleep that night, the beating stopped.

Or; The story of how Elain discovered that Lucien Vanserra sleeps naked.

A Part II and a happy ending by popular request!

Read on AO3 ・ Part I

-

The nondescript sleeping tonic Lucien purchased in the market hadn't come with any instructions. He didn't consider this unusual.

Seeing that the shopkeeper hadn't provided any cryptic warnings upon its purchase, Lucien assumed, as with other sleeping tonics he'd ingested in the past, he simply needed to consume the vial shortly before he was ready to go to bed and sleep would find him more readily.

When Lucien tipped the vial down his throat later that night, he found its taste unexpectedly pleasant—ginseng and honey with a tart, unmistakable aftertaste of magic that told him the potion would be potent. He remembered locking the doors, undressing from his day clothes, and lingering for a moment in front of his balcony door, unable to keep himself from staring towards the rising mountain range in the distance. The windows and verandas of the House of Wind were indistinguishable from his apartment, but it hardly mattered when he knew precisely which side Elain's room was kept.

Her scent still clung to his nose. He hadn't been able to rid himself of it since he'd visited the townhouse earlier that day and found the smell of jasmine and honey still wafting through the steam of an abandoned cup of tea, as if she'd fled the second he knocked on the door. He hadn't dared ask after her and Feyre, whether out of sympathy for him or loyalty to Elain, had not commented on her sister's whereabouts.

Lucien dragged his gaze towards his bedside table, debating whether he should choose a book from the small collection he kept in Velaris to distract his thoughts until the sleeping tonic took effect. But his eyes only made it so far as the jeweled dagger he'd rested on the table's edge before his attention swiveled back towards the glass door and the distant glowing lights in the mountain. He might as well have shoved that dagger into his chest and twisted, the way he let himself imagine what she was doing with her evening, practically another world away. Did she like to read before she fell asleep, too, or did she need something less idle? And during those moments when her mind wasn't occupied, did she ever let it wander towards the mate who slept in the city beneath?

That was the last thought he remembered before oblivion. There was no soft drift into darkness, nor did he lap gently against the tides of waking. One moment, he recalled standing in his bedroom, wallowing in his misery, and the next, the sun was up, his mouth was stuffed full of cotton, and the room stunk of salt and copper.

And… jasmine.

He sat up. Sunlight flooded in from his balcony, bouncing and glinting off the thousands of glass shards littering his bedroom floor. A broken plant pot lay haphazardly in the wreckage, clumps of soil spilling away from the cracked ceramic. Last he'd seen that pot, it'd been sitting lovingly on his outdoor table.

Someone had broken into his house, and from the bloody footprints trekking through the broken glass, they hadn't been prepared for the carnage they'd wrought. Lucien took a moment to assess his own feet, just to be sure the tonic hadn't sent him on a violent sleepwalk. That was when he noticed the blood on his bed sheets.

His intruder had climbed into his bed. And along with their blood, they'd left their scent behind. One that stirred at instincts he tried very, very hard to keep buried. She'd been here. In his bed. His mate had been his bed. But more importantly—

His mate was hurt.

Beneath his skin, something primal was itching awake, thrashing at long-held restraints. Lucien took a deep breath. He needed to keep a level head and piece together what happened. Why had Elain come here? Why had she hurt herself trying to get in? Had she been running from something, had she come to him for protection that he'd failed to provide?

Just like he'd failed to protect…

Lucien flung open his wardrobe and shoved himself into clothes without paying attention to what he was grabbing. The fact that he didn't run into the streets naked was a testament to his self-control. He bothered with only as many buttons as was required not to be indecent before he winnowed outside the wrought iron gate of Feyre's townhouse.

It wasn't far off dawn. Perhaps it was too early to be wailing his fist against the door of an uptight High Lord. Rhysand's expression certainly said as much when he answered after the third round of knocking.

"Lucien," he said in a flat greeting, not bothering to adjust the black silk robe hanging off his shoulders. At least it was tied at the waist, however precariously. His violet eyes dragged over Lucien in one quick, unimpressed assessment before he quirked a dark brow. "I assume there's a reason you're disturbing my otherwise very pleasant morning?"

The love bites along his neck spoke for exactly what sort of pleasant morning Lucien was interrupting. And Rhysand's insufferable smirk confirmed it.

"Where's Elain?"

"Sleeping," Rhysand said. "Like you should be."

"Lucien?"

Rhys turned at the sound of Feyre's voice, his hard expression softening as he watched her pad up to the doorway, her own robe tied much more securely—thank the Cauldron. She frowned as she came closer and glimpsed Lucien's expression.

"Is that blood on your face?"

Lucien immediately swiped at his cheek, his fingers coming away covered in the dust of dried blood. A growl rose in the back of his throat as he demanded, "Take me up to the House of Wind."

“No.”

“No?” Lucien snarled.

Rhysand's eyes gleamed as though amused by the outburst, eager to see how far Lucien was willing to escalate the situation. The subtle step Rhys took to position himself in front of Feyre didn't escape Lucien's notice, either.

"Not until you calm down."

"Tell us what happened," Feyre said, voice far more coaxing. She pushed her hand against her mate's shoulder, moving him out of the way with a stern sideways glance. Rhysand's expression shifted just enough that Lucien knew they were in each other's minds, having some conversation he wasn't privy to.

The rational part of his brain knew that they wouldn't take him to Elain unless he complied with their questions, but his sensibility was in a losing battle against the primal instincts slipping loose. Through gritted teeth, he managed, "Elain's hurt."

"Azriel reports that she's fine," Rhys replied, crossing his arms. "Safe in bed and fast asleep."

"Let me see her, then."

"So she can wake up to a snarling male? I doubt that will win you any favor."

"Rhys," Feyre warned. She looked to Lucien, and he could hardly bear the pity in her eyes, the way she spoke to him like a spooked animal as she said, softly, "I'll go check on her."

"Take me with."

Feyre sighed. "I don't think that's a good idea, Lucien."

And before he could protest or even try to convince her otherwise, Feyre vanished, leaving Lucien alone with the High Lord of the Night Court. Rage blistered through him, and in that moment Lucien wanted nothing more than to wrench their door off its hinges and slam it into the smug bastard's face. But rather than pick a fight he couldn't win, he turned on his heel.

"Lucien."

He paused at the gate to peer over his shoulder at Rhysand. Some of Rhys's smug demeanor dropped, regarding Lucien with an expression close enough to understanding to make his stomach heave.

"Feyre says Elain is fine. She had some cuts on her feet, but nothing that can't be healed. Take some time to decompress, and you can return when she's awake."

Lucien didn't respond. A thanks didn't feel deserved, but if he was honest, he knew it was for the better that they didn't let him storm into Elain's room, half-feral and mad with panic. He didn't know what had driven her to come to him last night, but whatever her reasons, she'd decided not to stay.

It was enough to know she was safe.

Resigned, as he was with all things pertaining to Elain, Lucien returned to his apartment to clean up the pieces of his life she'd left shattered.

-

Most burglars flee the scene of their crimes, never to be seen by their victims again. Elain showed up the next afternoon with a basket full of baked goods and an apology she'd been rehearsing since she woke up.

She used the front door this time, and waited on Lucien's doorstep until he answered.

To her relief, it didn't take long to hear shuffling on the other side of the door, and soon it swung open to reveal her mate, alive and awake. His eyes widened at the sight of her, and he briefly glanced down at himself as though regretting his attire. The first four buttons of his shirt were loosened to show a generous amount of toned brown skin, the rest of the fabric tucked loosely into his beige trousers. It was the most casually dressed she'd ever seen him. Before last night, at any rate.

The memory caused her face to redden. With a great deal of effort, she forced herself to look up and meet his eyes. They stared at each other, neither speaking, for far longer than convention would prescribe. Elain, dragging her eyes over him to soothe that now dormant instinct that had begged her to ensure he was okay. Lucien, assessing her from head to toe with poorly disguised concern. She supposed she had so scarcely expressed any interest in engaging with him, it would be his assumption that she was only seeking him out because something had gone wrong.

And in a way, that was precisely what she was doing.

"Elain," he said, finally. He took a moment to clear his throat before continuing. "It's lovely to see you. Are you well?"

"I'm perfectly well." Wracked with guilt, her response was more of a whisper than intended. Now, it was Elain's turn to clear her throat. "I came by to see if you were well, actually."

"Me?" He blinked. "Yes, lady. I assure you I'm in perfect health."

That he was. The evidence of his perfect health burned so fiercely in the back of her mind that she blurted without thinking, "Feyre told me you had a break-in last night. I came by to see if you were okay. And I brought you some pastries. Not from me. From a bakery down the street."

Lucien nodded, accepting the basket when Elain thrust it towards him. "That was very kind of you." He took a moment to study its contents before his eyes gravitated back towards Elain. "And you needn't worry about the break-in. If the thief stole anything, it's escaped my notice."

So he didn't suspect anything. That was good. She should go. Leave, while he was still oblivious to what she'd done. But it was as if her legs were cemented to the stone beneath her, and her mouth opened of its own volition. "Still, it must have been concerning to wake up to."

"Concerning?" He let out a soft laugh. "You could say as much. It's not often you wake up covered in blood that doesn't belong to you."

Elain coached her voice not to strain as she said, "You must have slept through a great deal."

"The consequences of a sleeping tonic." He offered her a wry smile. "A lesson learned, I suppose."

"Do you have trouble sleeping, Lucien?"

He stilled. And Elain thought perhaps… Perhaps that was the first time he'd heard her say his name. Of course, he didn't hear her shouting it last night. Or when she often whispered it, quietly, into her pillow. A confession for her ears only.

Lucien raised the basket in offering. "Would you like to come in? I could put on some tea and regale you with the story of my midnight thief in greater detail."

It would be so incredibly foolish for her to agree.

"That sounds nice."

Not anymore foolish than breaking into his house in the middle of the night. Or refusing to know him in any meaningful way outside of her visions.

A moment later, she was settled across from Lucien at his dining table. An elegant teapot sat between them, steam billowing from its spout. Someone with a better education of Prythian might have been able to glance at the stamps in the porcelain and the delicate artwork to identify its court of origin. From the blue brushstrokes rising and cresting like waves along its side, Elain could only guess that it was from the Summer Court. A relic from his many travels as an emissary, or something more sentimental? She didn't have the courage to ask. And he was oblivious to her musings as he lifted the teapot by the handle to pour her cup before serving himself.

"Your apartment is lovely," she said, in an effort to make conversation.

Lucien hummed his gratitude. "I've forgotten this is your first time coming here."

"Yes." Elain lifted the teacup to her mouth before her expression could give away her lie. It was too hot to drink, but she'd developed something of a habit in hurting herself in Lucien's apartment. She set down the cup only once she'd composed herself and added politely, "It's a shame I hadn't visited sooner."

"Indeed," Lucien said. He rapped his knuckles against the table. "You might have been able to spare my plant pot."

Elain froze, falling every bit into the role of the doe she was so often compared to. "Pardon?"

"My thief used the plant I kept on my balcony to break in last night. I'd been trying to nurse it back to health for months. With your interference, it might have been healthy enough to put in my front garden, and the thief would have needed to find some other means of breaking in."

At a loss for words, all Elain could think to say was, "My condolences for your plant."

Lucien smiled. "Don't worry, there's humor to be had in it. You see, I kept a spare key planted just beneath the soil. If my thief had taken a moment longer to investigate, they might have saved their feet from getting cut by the glass."

"They sound like a very poor thief," Elain said, not looking up from the streaming surface of her tea.

"Exceptionally," Lucien agreed. "I've been wondering all morning—who breaks into someone's home with bare feet?"

"Perhaps they were too poor to afford shoes?"

Lucien leaned back in his seat. "That's the curious thing; the thief didn't take anything valuable. As far as I can tell, they simply broke down my door and climbed into bed with me."

It seemed it was now Lucien's turn to pick things up and hurl them towards her. Elain knew what it felt like to be the glass door shattering to pieces as the full impact of his words slammed against her. She knew that nothing malicious had been done to him, nothing besides an inadvertent glimpse, but Lucien… he must have suspected the worst. A violation so horrifying that she dropped her face into her hands.

"It was me," she squeaked.

"I know."

Elain snapped her head up, surprise momentarily overtaking her shame. "Azriel told you?"

The coy smile toying at his lips suddenly flattened into a line. "Azriel?"

Oh dear. She pressed, "Feyre, then?"

Lucien ran an exasperated hand through his hair. "Elain, I didn't tell Feyre about my break in. The fact that you knew of it was all the confirmation I needed."

Cauldron, she'd make a terrible thief and even worse spy. Elain bit her lip, refusing to give anything else away.

He suffered her silence for a minute longer before he sighed. "I'm not angry, but I am confused. Would you please explain to me what happened last night?"

Elain thought she owed him that much, at the very least. After taking a deep breath to compose herself, she asked, "Do you remember when I told you that I can hear your heart?"

A nod, accompanied by an absent look in his eyes and a frown that suggested it wasn't a pleasing memory. It wasn't for her, either. Those initial months after the Cauldron blurred together, a swirl of darkness as chilling as the water that had seized her mortality. She remembered rotting in her despair, day by day, aimless and hopeless and cold. And she remembered him.

I am Lucien. Seventh son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court.

She remembered that name, pulling her to the surface for the first time in weeks. Her only breath of air since the moment she'd been pushed under. A glimpse of sunlight.

A trick.

Elain blinked away the memory of that girl, one she still resembled more closely than she'd like to. And she looked at her mate, equally a different male from the one that had once sat before her with his fingers trembling against his teacup. But he was the same in the ways that mattered. He was patient with her, sipping his tea while she sifted through her thoughts. Still so kind, still radiating warmth even as he held himself guarded.

"I've listened to your heartbeat every day since then," Elain said. "I hear it louder than my own sometimes. It's the first thing that greets me in the morning, and it's what coaxes me to sleep at the end of the day."

Lucien lowered his tea and pressed his hand to his chest, feeling for the beat that echoed through her. He didn't say anything, simply waited for her to continue.

"Last night, I heard your heart stop beating and… I panicked." There was no other word for it. Pure, blinding panic. "I asked Azriel to fly me down from the House of Wind so I could come here to check on you. I tried knocking on your door and pulling on the bond and you weren't responding to anything and I just—" She took a rasping breath. "I just needed to know that you were okay."

Lucien opened his mouth, but Elain blurted, "And when I realized that you were fine, I panicked again because I know I made such a fool out of myself and I just fled. I wasn't thinking. I'm so sorry for breaking your door. And for killing your plant. And for—"

"Elain," Lucien soothed. "It's alright. You have nothing to be sorry for. Well, besides my own panic this morning when I woke up covered in your blood. You think I wouldn't recognize the scent of my mate?"

My mate. She'd heard Feyre and Rhys use that phrase countless times before and always felt disconnected from the endearment. It was so… faerie. Blunt and possessive and primal. Lucien had only said it in front of her one time, during the worst moment of her life. She didn't think hearing it again would stir anything inside her.

My mate—mine.

Elain felt her entire body warm. "I didn't know what you would think, if I'm honest."

"I thought something terrible had happened," he said, a strain to his voice that she recognized as a shard of the same cutting fear she'd been under last night. "Feyre said I wasn't in any state to go see you in the House of Wind, but she assured me you were fine. I thought about taking those ten thousand stairs anyway, just to see for myself, but I didn't want to…"

He trailed off, his eyes not leaving her face. Elain felt it then. The pull, the ever-flowing current she'd been swimming against for years, terrified of losing control. She decided to give into it for the very time, just enough to let it guide her hand forward until it was covering his.

"Didn't want to what?"

Lucien's throat bobbed. He held himself so still, as if worried the slightest movement would send her fleeing. "I didn't want to scare you. I wasn't thinking clearly."

She let out a dry laugh. "I know the feeling."

His lips twitched. The makings of the smile that made her feel as though she'd swallowed hot coals. "Yes, as it turns out I had no reason to be concerned. Who would have thought that polite little Elain could be so feral?"

"Feral?" She repeated, snapping her hand away. "I thought you were dead!"

"And there wasn't a single glass door or freshly cleaned sheet that would get in your way." He smirked. "You know, I noticed something strange when I was cleaning up your little mess. Somehow, you managed to get your blood beneath the blankets. Would you happen to know anything about that?"

Elain's chair scraped against the floor as she exploded to her feet. "You are—"

His eyes gleamed. "What?"

"Crude!"

"I'm crude?" He raised a scarlet brow, far too smug for Elain's liking. "You were the one sneaking perverse—"

"I was not!" Elain protested. "I was…" Gods, the excuse sounded pathetic even in her own head. "I was ensuring you weren't wounded. It was strictly clinical."

Lucien cocked his head, unbound hair spilling over his shoulders as he grinned at her like a fox cornering its next meal. "Do I get a turn assessing you for wounds, then? It's only fair, given you were the only one bleeding out of the two of us."

"I'm healed."

"If that's the case, prove it to me."

Nesta or Feyre would have snapped at their mates for being so demanding. Elain debated doing the same, but part of her was curious where he was going with this. And since something had knocked loose in her last night, she was getting into the habit of giving in to her impulses—at least those regarding her mate.

Elain walked around the table until she was standing above him. He stared up at her, expectant, and she held out her palm for his examination, all the while trying not to notice the way his legs spread over the chair, and how she knew what his thighs looked like beneath the taut fabric. Muscular. Lean. Powerful.

Lucien cleared his throat.

She blinked, ripping her gaze away from his lap. He didn't comment further on the indiscretion, though she'd never seen him quite so self-satisfied as he reached for her hand and drew it closer for assessment.

He dragged his thumb across her open palm, prickling heat in its wake. Elain restrained a gasp. They hadn't touched since the moment he'd lifted her off the floor in Hybern, and back then she had been stone cold and so numb that his touch barely registered. Now… it was like feeling sunshine warm her skin.

"You have so many calluses," he noted. "I'd almost think you were a warrior."

"They're from gardening," she said, uncertain why it came out so breathless.

"Why not use gloves?"

She searched for an accusation in the question. He'd once gifted her a pair of enchanted gardening gloves so that no thorn need ever cut her skin. Those gloves were still tucked in their original gift box, collecting dust where she'd shoved them under her bed.

"I prefer to feel the dirt beneath my fingernails," she said. That was the honest answer.

Sometimes, she felt too separated from the world, as if she existed behind a thin film, always observing events as they unfolded around her but never present. A glove was just another barrier. She wanted to feel the earth. She wanted proof that she was here.

Lucien made a noise as though in understanding. "Well I can see that your hands are unharmed, but what about your feet?"

"How am I meant to show you my feet?"

He grinned in a way that said he was hoping she'd ask. Lucien pushed aside the teapot and his cup, then patted the table in front of him.

"Take a seat."

For a moment, all she could think about were the erotic novels Nesta liked to read so much. The ladies in those stories often found themselves deposited atop a table with a male between their thighs. Even if Lucien had the most innocent of intentions—and from his wide grin, she wasn't convinced—she would still be sitting above him, her skirts short enough that she would need to be conscious of how she moved lest she expose…

It was horribly uncouth.

When Elain told him as much, he only laughed and assured her, "I won't tell a soul, you have my honor."

It wasn't her reputation that concerned her, though she didn't know how to express that to him without betraying the direction of her thoughts. And she could refuse, but a spark in his eye challenged her to stay, to see what happened.

Swallowing her pride, Elain situated herself on the table before him and scooted back until she could present her feet in his lap. It was then he began unlacing her boots, and it was so intimate to see him undressing her, no matter how innocently, that she needed to turn her face away.

Her eyes wandered across his dining room, from the blue and white knotted rug of unknown origins to the display unit against the wall housing trinkets and fine dining sets. Considering how infrequently he stayed here, the apartment was well-decorated. Was that his doing?

"Tell me something," she said to distract herself.

"Anything."

"How do you like living in the mortal lands?"

"Truthfully, I don't mind it." He'd finished unlacing one of her boots, and his broad hand curved behind her calf to maneuver it off her foot. Once the boot was off, he let his hand linger. "Vassa and Jurian have become good friends."

There was a contentment in his answer that made her feel uneasy. She knew she should be happy that Lucien had made peace with his circumstances. Particularly when she had been the one to push him from Velaris. But if he felt settled in the mortal lands, could she expect more time between his already infrequent visits?

"Would you…" her throat burned. "Would it be a great burden if you were to visit Velaris more regularly?"

"That depends on the nature of my visit."

A diplomatic answer. Elain turned to him in an effort to read his expression, but he gave nothing away, dedicated to his task of unlacing her second boot.

"What if you visited outside of your obligations to Feyre and Rhys? Just to enjoy the city?"

Lucien glanced up, arching a brow. "Alone?"

Elain shrugged, too mechanic to express the nonchalance she wanted to convey.

"Perhaps with company."

Their eyes met. The mechanism in his artificial eye clicked once, twice, refocusing as though he were assessing her sincerity. Elain held her breath, wondering if this was how it felt to lay her head on a chopping block, to feel the gravity of those seconds before the axe swung down.

"That would be wonderful," Lucien said, with a smile that sent the breath whooshing from her chest.

His hand returned to her calf. The last boot came off, and it was then that Elain remembered she was wearing stockings. Lucien looked as if he'd only just put that together as well. He was already shaking his head, prepared to backpedal. But they'd come this far.

"Go on," Elain goaded, lifting her leg in invitation.

Lucien searched her face, lips parted in shock. Shock that melted into rakish delight as he realized she was serious. His broad hands returned to her calves, squeezing playfully just to test the waters. Elain sucked in a breath but didn't pull away. She kept her eyes locked on his and nodded her permission.

Those hands glided up, pausing at the crook of her knee, where he used his grip to part her legs further. Then he rose from the chair, and Elain wasn't certain whose heartbeat went soaring first, but she could hear them both thundering in her ears as Lucien wedged himself closer.

Scarlet hair spilled over his shoulder, tickling her neck, her chest. Since his hands were already on her, pushing up her skirt as they slid over her thighs, she saw no reason why she couldn't reach up and fist her hands against his scalp.

Lucien groaned in response, leaning further into her touch until they were chest to chest. Until she was close enough to feel his breath fanning over her cheeks. His eyes were half-lidded, their focus on her lips, watching her every breath. Waiting for an invitation. She felt his hands rise to the hem of her stockings and still.

"You're not getting distracted," she whispered. "Are you?"

He huffed something close to a laugh. It was exhilarating to watch him war with his own restraint, knowing that this male exceeded her in age and strength and power, and yet he yielded only to her desire. He would touch her exclusively in the ways she gave him permission, no more or less. Even as her lips drifted excruciatingly close to his.

"Who would have thought you'd be a horrible tease," he said, a roughness in his voice that she'd never heard before. Like a stone scraping over pavement. She could feel it drag against her skin, utterly intoxicating. She wanted to hear him say her name in that voice. Wanted it, but feared it would be her undoing.

"I think we're learning that I'm full of surprises."

"Indeed." Lucien hooked his fingers beneath her stockings. "I have never been more delighted to be caught off guard."

His shaky breath chased her own, and it was a relief to think she was not the only one whose composure was slipping, carried down, down, down with her stockings, all rational thought and sensation narrowed to the brush of his fingers, their trail of fire, the impropriety of letting him undress her. Letting him touch her bare skin, when this was all so new, so fragile.

The ability to breathe only returned once her stockings hit her knees and Lucien needed to pull away to finish the act of removing them. A soft protest bubbled to her lips, but she pushed her teeth down to catch it.

"See?" She said, ignoring the foreign rasp in her voice. "They're completely healed."

Lucien ran his thumbs along the soles of her feet, assessing the faded marks. "So they are."

"Are you satisfied?"

His metal eye was clicking again, and the russet of his right eye was nearly swallowed by his pupil. There was a wildness to the look he gave her, one that reminded her no matter how refined his diction, how cordial his manners, he had been born to and tempered by the flames of Autumn.

A fire coursed through his blood, and she could see it burning in his eyes as he said, "I fear I'm unfamiliar with the meaning of that word."

"I should go," she said. Before she was tempted to challenge that notion.

Lucien nodded. He knew just as well as she did that they were teetering off the edge of something they couldn't take back. Maybe it was already too late. It felt like it would be impossible to reign in the ache splitting open inside her, to return to the feigned indifference she'd managed just yesterday.

She scrambled off the table and shoved her feet back into her boots without bothering to put her stockings back on. They could be his trophy for somehow convincing her to do this in the first place.

"Wait," Lucien said as she turned towards the door.

He stood from the chair and pushed a hand into his pocket, producing an iron key that he held out to her. "Take it. So that you don't hurt yourself the next time you come to my daring rescue."

Elain stepped forward and curled her fingers over the metal, warm from his pocket, and surprisingly light for the weight of the gesture. She wanted to give him something in return. An apology and a promise and all of the complicated feelings in between.

So she gathered her courage and rose up on her feet to press a timid kiss to his lips. It lasted all of a second before Elain moved to withdraw, at which point Lucien caught her at the waist and drew her back for a proper kiss. And despite the years of longing and the tension they'd kindled this afternoon, each burning like a forge in her chest, his kiss was soft. Gentle.

Elain sighed into this sweet, final surrender, yielding at last to the force that had always been pulling them together, long before she knew his name or had any awareness of the fae. Golden light coiled in her chest, and her fingers slipped back into his hair, needing him closer. His lips, warm and petal-soft, parted and moved against hers, but there was no urgency. His touch wasn't colored by lust, though she could feel his racing heart and flushing skin.

The fae dealt in magic and bargains. They were casual with their intimacy, unruly in their courting. Here, a kiss could be meaningless. But in the human world, a kiss was a vow. It was the penultimate stage of a courtship, a promise that a gentleman intended to intertwine his life with that person.

Lucien kissed her as if they were human. With his eyes shut and his hands staunchly fixed to her waist. There was reprieve in his expression, like a man who had waited patiently for this moment, who was promising that this was only the start of a much longer journey—one they would travel together.

His eyes opened, and he pulled away when he saw her staring, unaware that she had been carving the sight of him into her memory.

She spoke before he saw fit to offer an apology. "I have one last question."

Lucien cleared his throat before speaking. "You can always ask me anything."

Oh? Elain wondered if he would regret saying that.

"Do you sleep naked in the mortal lands, too, or is it just when you're alone?"

His answering smile was nothing short of fiendish. "Why don't you visit me in the mortal lands and find out?"

#breaking & entering #Elucien #Elucien fanfic #Elucien fic #Elucien fanfiction #Elain x Lucien #Lucien x Elain

[c-e-d-dreamer]

You Are Not the Kind of Boy (Who Should Be Marrying the Wrong Girl): Part One

A/N: happy happy @sjmromanceweek! Don't you just love the first date of... (checks notes) being ruined by your older sister's lover bursting into her wedding? It's how all the great first dates start! 😉 I hope everyone enjoys this Elucien sequel to But I'm Only Looking At You! You don't have to have read the Nessian part to understand, but you do need to know that Cassian ruined Nesta and subsequently Elain and Feyre before this fic's timeline. This is the first of three parts I'll be posting for Romance Week 🥰

Read on AO3 // Next Part

Three Months Ago

The music drifts through the large, arching doorway, the sound light and lilting as its melody fills the room. It wraps around Elain's limbs, floating above into the high ceiling and the chandelier hanging there. Elain can't help but hum along quietly to the familiar tune, even as she tilts her head to admire the painting displayed before her. It's a beautiful landscape, light brushstrokes of white perfectly capturing the clouds in the sky, dots of color in the foreground to mimic wildflowers.

“My lady.”

Elain nearly jumps out of her skin at the sudden voice, even as the familiarity of that tone sends goosebumps cascading down her arms. She turns her head to the gentleman now standing beside her. His fitted waistcoat is a deep green color, the intricate gold stitching exactly the type of luxury Elain expects from a Duke's son. Still, the color compliments his red hair, the strands left loose to hang around his face. Even with the fox mask he's chosen to don for the evening's festivities, there's no mistaking him.

Lucien Spellcleaver.

He keeps his hands tucked neatly behind his back, his eyes firmly forward on the painting before them. But Elain doesn't miss the way his fingers seem to flex, the bob of his throat as he swallows, and she certainly doesn't miss the way a smirk tugs up the left side of his lips at her continued attention. Since making Lucien's acquaintance and through their continued interactions, Elain has begun to suspect he's more scoundrel than lord, all teasing smirks and snarky remarks. He finally turns to meet her gaze, his eyes practically glinting beneath the light of the chandelier, one russet and one gold.

“You look lovely this evening,” Lucien tells her, Elain swearing he sounds almost breathless as he says it. “That color suits you.”

Elain is glad for her own mask to hide the blush that crashes across her cheeks, but she ducks her head nonetheless. “Thank you, your Grace.”

She turns back to the painting, if only to break the intensity of his stare, the spell that seems wrapped up in that gaze, curling around her chest like a golden thread and tugging her into him. Perhaps, if she stares hard enough at the painted wildflowers, her face will stop being the same shade of pink as her dress. Thankfully, Lucien seems content to simply stand beside her, barely a hairsbreadth keeping their arms from brushing together.

“Thesan has good taste,” Lucien breaks the quiet to comment. “Clear from this evening's masquerade as well. Are you enjoying the festivities, my lady?”

“Yes. I have particularly enjoyed the music.”

“And yet I have not yet seen you grace the dance floor.”

“Perhaps, I am still waiting for the right partner,” Elain dares to say, turning back toward Lucien only to find his stare already pinned on her.

His hand reaches forward in the space between them, his fingers skating down Elain's arm before curling around her wrist. Elain just barely swallows down the gasp at that simple touch, her heart beginning to pound between her ribs. She feels frozen, unable to move or look away as Lucien pulls her hand closer to him, as his fingers unfold her dance card. She watches him scrawl his name, expects him to drop her hand once he's finished, but instead, he merely lifts her hand higher, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. His lips linger against her skin far longer than is proper, a fire practically burning in his eyes, but still Elain doesn't move, doesn't breathe.

It's only when Lucien finally releases her hand, when he finally steps away and vanishes back into the ballroom and amongst the ball’s guests, that Elain releases a quiet, gasping breath. She runs her hands down the skirts of her dress, trying desperately to calm her thundering heart, and when she looks at her dance card to see which dance Lucien has claimed, she finds his name written in large, looping letters diagonally across the entire booklet.

A scoundrel indeed.

~ * * * ~

Today

The carriage jerks beneath them, jostling lightly as the horse tugs them down the road. The silence is suffocating, the air tense and thick enough in the tight space that Elain feels like she could choke on it. She keeps her eyes firmly out the window, watching the shops, the houses, the people that the carriage passes.

She doesn’t dare to look at the other faces of her family, least of all her mother. The ire radiating off of Eleanor Archeron is palpable and stifling and has Elain’s whole body tensing in anticipation. And it’s not even directed at her. Nesta’s fingers are twisted tight enough in the skirts of her dress that Elain can see the white knuckles even in her periphery. Elain’s own fingers twitch with the desire to reach out, to squeeze Nesta’s hands in soothing comfort, but there’s no saving her older sister from what’s coming, not after what’s happened, what Nesta did.

Elain still can’t even wrap her head around it. She had known, of course, that there was something between her sister and Cassian MacLeod. He had practically followed Nesta around wherever they went, and Elain can still remember the night their mother had thrown a stack of letters from him into the fire, can still remember hearing Nesta cry through the wall their bedrooms share. But she never thought Nesta would do this, never thought she’d take things so far so as to lay with a man unwed.

The carriage finally pulls to a stop, and the footman has barely pulled the door open before Feyre is rushing out, clearly just as desperate as Elain to escape the cloying mood trapped within the carriage. The rest of the family clambers out in stoic silence, and finally, with a soft sigh, Elain slips out of the carriage. Nesta hesitates at the bottom of the front steps, so Elain steps around her, giving her sister the moment she clearly needs and following her parents inside their home.

But once they’re all inside, once the front door has closed with a too loud snick the echoes like a death knell, all hell breaks loose.

Elain supposes there is some benefit to them having to dismiss their staff. There’s no one to see the rage burning across their mother’s face as she whirls around on Nesta. No one to hear the slap that rings out in the front hall as the back of Eleanor’s hand strikes across Nesta’s cheek.

“You stupid girl,” their mother seethes, already raising her hand again despite Nesta’s flinch. “What were you thinking?”

“Mama, please. I didn’t—”

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Everything I have done for you. All that work I put in. And for what? For you to spread your legs like a common whore, and for some filthy factory rat of all things?”

Feyre steps closer to Elain, looping their arms together as they stand tensely, awkwardly, while everything unfolds, but Elain can’t watch the way their mother explodes around them a moment longer. She swallows hard and averts her gaze, focusing on the shadows that stretch across the floors and walls from the sun spilling through the windows.

“I hope you’re happy,” their mother continues. “You’ve always been a disappointment to the Archeron name, and now, you have thoroughly ruined it. You’ve ruined us all. You’ve ruined your sisters. Is that what you wanted? Perhaps, you can teach them the proper ways to pleasure a man for when they end up on the street trying to rub pennies together.”

The words are enough to draw Elain’s attention back, to spear straight through her chest. Despite the cruelty of their mother’s words, there’s no denying the underlying truth to them. Elain doubts the Mandrays will keep quiet about what happened this morning, that word will quickly burn through the ton like a wildfire. She’s sure that the next time they go to the market, everyone will stare, will look down their noses, will whisper and gossip about the Archeron girls.

She’s sure that no respectable gentleman will want to go anywhere near them.

That thought has Elain’s heart twisting tightly in her chest, pain blooming surely enough that it takes everything within her not to press her hand against the ache. It has her stomach roiling until she thinks she might be sick, until the taste of bile starts to tickle the back of her throat. She thinks of Lucien, of the way he had danced with her all night at Thesan’s masquerade ball. Of the way he called on her almost every day before her mother sent the staff away and put an end to any and all callers. Of the way he found her in the market just the other day and teased her about her ribbon selection.

Lucien. A Duke’s son. Someone who will need legitimate heirs, and not someone whose honor will forever be questioned.

Eleanor lets out a long sigh, holding her hand to her head as if this whole conversation is tortuous and sickening to her. Their father, doting as ever, rushes forward. He curls an arm around his wife’s waist, murmuring gentle words before he leads her away up the stairs.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Feyre demands as soon as they’re alone.

Nesta crosses her arms across her chest, glancing away from her sisters and swallowing hard. “I didn’t know he was going to do that. I didn’t… I didn’t know he was going to ruin us all.”

“But why would he do that?”

“I don’t know, Feyre,” Nesta snaps, her voice exasperated. “It’s not like I asked him to do that. He’s an idiot.”

“But you care about him, and I’m quite sure he cares for you. I saw—”

“It doesn’t matter anyways.”

“Who will marry us now?” Elain whispers, cutting off her sisters’ arguing, her eyes beginning to burn with the familiar heat of tears.

“Elain…” Nesta begins, her voice gentle, but it’s as though she doesn’t quite know what to say.

Elain knows it’s silly, knows that her sisters never quite felt the same or understood, but she had looked forward to what her future could hold. She had looked forward to finding a husband. Ideally, a love match, but she would also be happy with a man who was simply kind. She had looked forward to tending to a house, to being the mistress of a manor. She had looked forward to being a mother.

And most recently, Elain couldn’t help but imagine what it might be like to be a duchess. Imagine small, running feet and shocks of bright, red hair. Imagine a certain Duke’s son with a child on his shoulders and offering her that roguish smile of his. Imagine his arms around her as securely as the night at Thesan’s masquerade ball.

Elain scrubs at her cheeks, at the tears sliding down across her skin, and turns on her heel. She ignores Feyre calling her name, making her way up the stairs and to her bedroom. She closes the door firmly behind her, crumpling into her vanity chair and sniffling quietly. The ribbon she had gotten earlier in the week still sits there, and almost absentmindedly, Elain traces along it with her finger.

If she closes her eyes, she can still perfectly imagine that day, can still remember walking through the market, the sights and the sounds of the ton soaring on the late summer breeze around her. Lucien had all but followed her into the ribbon shop, offering another of his roguish smiles and a flourished bow. He hadn’t been fazed when Elain teased him about a gentleman in a ribbon shop, insisting he was merely looking for himself, in need of something to tie back his hair with.

There was no stopping the lightness that flooded through Elain’s chest, the warmth that twined around her heart, the quiet laugh that was pulled past her lips, as Lucien held up different ribbons and asked for her opinion on each one. Elain had settled on the ribbon with gold stitching and suns woven into the lace, telling Lucien it complimented his hair and eyes well. In retrospect, perhaps she shouldn't have been so surprised when the exact same ribbon had been delivered to her the next day.

Elain’s fingers curl tightly around the ribbon, frustration beginning to spark through her veins. It burns away any numbness, any anguish, over the events of the day. It’s unfair. It’s entirely and completely unfair, and Elain refuses to tolerate it for another moment. She will no longer sit idly by. If this is to be her life, her future now, then she at least deserves to do one last thing.

With a quiet huff, Elain pushes back up to her feet, her determination solidified and her resolve hardened. She throws open her wardrobe doors, digging around the back until she finds a dark colored cloak, pulling it on and making sure the hood covers her hair and casts her face in shadow.

It’s with slow, deliberate carefulness that Elain pulls open her bedroom door, making sure the creak of the wood can’t be heard. She glances both ways down the hall, ensuring it’s all clear before tiptoeing her way toward the service stairs and following them down to the kitchen. The kitchen is quiet and dark, just as Elain expects, no one in the family stepping foot down here even with the staff dismissed. It makes it all too easy to unlatch the back door and slip out of the manor all together.

The sun has already started to set, strokes of pinks and oranges and purples painted across the sky above, blending with the wisps of clouds. The entire world is washed in soft light, glinting off the leaves and flowers. The light and late afternoon breeze turns the field just behind the manor into a rolling sea of gold, turns the willow tree Elain can see a little further ways up into a glittering fountain.

Hiking up her skirts to avoid getting mud on the hem, Elain begins her trek through the field. She keeps to the trees rather than the main road, tucking her chin down so the shadow cast by her hood hides her face any time she passes by anyone else. But soon the large, gravel pathway comes into view, winding up to the large estate that looms before her.

Three stories worth of tall windows stretch far to Elain’s left and right. The center of the estate juts out slightly further than the east and west wings, columns and beautiful arches only adding to the elegance. With the light of the fading day hitting and reflecting off the white bricks, the entire estate seems to glow as though it’s an embodiment of the sun itself.

Elain takes a moment to breathe deeply, to roll and square her shoulders. The walk here has done little to soften the resolve that hardened her spine, that fire of determination still blazing through her veins. But there’s no denying the spark of nerves low in her gut, the flutter of butterflies in her chest. Still, if Elain’s future is to be what everyone says it will be, if everything she’s ever wanted really is no longer within reach, then Elain intends to take this one thing that’s just for her.

With a decided nod, Elain makes her way up the gravel pathway toward the estate, veering off to the right before she reaches the front door. Lucien had mentioned how he loved to watch the sunset over the water from his room, so she’s quite sure that means his rooms must be in the western wing.

As Elain winds around the side of the estate, trying to figure out how she’ll identify which window is Lucien’s, she finds the man in question lounging in the grass beside the lake’s edge. He’s dressed casually, merely a pair of pants that hug the thick lines of his thighs, and a simple, white shirt tucked into the waistband, the laces around the neck loose and teasing a sliver of golden skin and collarbones. His red hair hangs around his face and shoulders, strands dancing in the breeze and whispering across his cheeks.

He has a book opened in his hands, and he doesn’t seem to hear Elain as she steps closer, so she awkwardly clears her throat, drawing the attention of those beautiful russet and gold eyes.

“Elain,” Lucien exclaims, closing his book and scrambling up to his feet. “How are—I heard about what happened. With your sister.”

“Word certainly travels fast around the ton,” Elain sighs, fiddling with the skirts of her dress. She was hoping Lucien wouldn’t know, that she would still have the benefit of ignorance on her side if only for tonight.

Lucien steps closer to her, his hand raising up into the space between them before he hesitates and drops it back down to his side. “And are you alright?”

The question takes Elain by surprise, and for a moment, she can do nothing but blink up at Lucien in confusion. She should have known. Should have known that Lucien was too much of a good man to judge her, to cast stones the way she’s sure the ton and its gossip machine have been doing as soon as the Mandrays stepped out of that church.

“As well as I can be,” Elain finally answers. “Now that my season is ruined. Now that I’m ruined.”

“You’re not ruined, Elain,” Lucien assures her, a frown tugging down his lips.

“You’re being kind, but you don’t need to lie to me. I’m not stupid. I mean, what sensible man will want to marry me now?”

“I’m sure there’s a man who would be very honored to call you his wife. Quite confident in fact.”

“Stop being kind,” Elain huffs, crossing her arms across her chest. “But it’s alright. I’ve accepted it now. It’s actually why I’m here.”

“All you have to do is say the word,” Lucien tells her, taking her hands in his own. His touch is surprisingly warm, surprisingly gentle the way his fingers curl around her own. “And you know that I will help you. Happily.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that.” Elain steps closer still to Lucien, biting her lip and peering up at him from under her lashes. “Because I could use your help. Now that the whole ton will think I’ve laid with a man just as Nesta has, I figured I might as well make it a reality.”

“Elain,” Lucien begins, taking a step back from her.

“I just want one thing for myself. One thing that I want, that I choose, that can’t be taken from me.”

“I get that, I do, but I do not want to be the one that ruins your honor. Don’t you think it best to wait until you are wed?”

“You aren’t listening, Lucien. My honor is already ruined, and no one is going to marry me.”

“That’s not true. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Elain, I—”

Before Lucien can finish speaking, Elain crowds back into his space and surges up onto her toes, crashing her lips against his. It’s a bit awkward, merely a press of lips, but excitement still cascades through Elain’s entire being, fueling her and begging for more. After a moment, Lucien starts to relax, his hands moving to cradle her jaw before they’re sliding down her neck to her shoulders, gently pulling her away.

“Elain…”

“Don’t you want me too?”

“I can assure you that’s not the issue here.”

“Lucien, please.”

Lucien sighs softly, lifting a hand to push up and through his hair. “How can you ever expect me to say no to you when I would gladly do anything for you?”

“I don’t,” Elain tells him matter-of-factly, pressing her body fully against his until her breasts press against his chest, their hips aligned flush together.

“Fuck,” Lucien mumbles beneath his breath. “If we… just promise that after, we can talk. Properly. About this.”

“Of course.”

It’s a lie. Elain has every intention of leaving after tonight, of walking away from Lucien completely. No matter what she wants. No matter the way her heart quakes and shutters at the idea. But she simply can’t stomach it, the idea of dragging Lucien down with her. She could never mar his future with the dark, roiling clouds that are now firmly casted over her own.

After tonight, Elain will ensure that she doesn’t stand in the way of everything that Lucien deserves, that’s his birthright as the son of a Duke.

But Lucien doesn’t need to know that.

—

Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @lifeisntafantasy @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld @isterofimias @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @wolfnesta @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @ofduskanddreams @rarephloxes @thelovelymadone @books-books-books4ever @tenaciousdiplomatloverprune @that-little-red-head @readergalaxy @thesnugglingduck @kale-theteaqueen @tarquindaddy @superflurry @bri-loves-sunflowers @lady-winter-sunrise

#elucien #sjmromanceweek2024 #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #pro elucien #elucien fanfiction #elucien fic #elain x lucien #acotar #my fic

[crazy-ache]

Jane Austen's most romantic letter, if it had been written by Lucien Vanserra (Persuasion x Elucien)

Or what would happen if Lucien overheard Elain have a conversation about the bond? And what if he wrote a gut-wrenching love confession in said letter? Inspired by literature's most infamously romantic letter ever written.

Some text is directly taken from Chapter 23 of Persuasion by Jane Austen.

"We will write the letter to Helion we were talking of, Rhysand, now, if you will give me materials."

Materials were at hand, on a separate table; Lucien went to it, and nearly turning his back to the rest of the Inner Circle, was engrossed by writing.

Elain eyed him carefully, studying the leather strap that held back his long, molten red hair. Clearing her throat, she found Nesta across the room by the open window of the parlor as they were both on the outskirts of the Inner Circle’s political discussions. It was a respectable distance from where Lucien was writing at the desk, although still somewhat nearby. 

“I have a question for you,” Nesta turned to her younger sister, face like stone. “One that I have been thinking about for some time. What do you think our parents would have thought about the mating bond?” 

With wide, brown eyes Elain sucked in her breath. It was an unexpected question, but also a familiar one. For her thoughts had circled the very same doubts and insecurities that plagued her sister. “Well,” Elain wrung her hands nervously. “Mother would have adored Feyre’s, being mated to a High Lord after all. But if she didn’t like the outcome, she would have demanded a way to break it or alter it for her own advantage.” 

Nesta’s wicked grin revealed an agreement, knowing full well their mother would have been furious at her marriage and bond with an Illyrian general, and her matching status as a Valkyrie now. 

“As for father, well, I suppose, based on what he discussed with me in the past—there is a small chance he would have been disappointed.” Her voice dropped in both volume and confidence, barely escaping as a whisper passed her lips. As if she was instinctually afraid someone would hear, perhaps someone sitting across the room. 

Elain felt compelled to explain further. “He always told me the most important thing to find in a husband was true love. That I should not settle for anyone less than a kind, loyal heart who loves every part of me, because that kind of love will never leave you.” 

Out of the corner of her eye, Nesta regarded her with furrowed eyebrows. “And you do not believe that a mating bond can also encompass those very same feelings? That same love?” 

She considered her question carefully, chewing on her bottom lip. “Perhaps it can, but how can you know it is true? That it is not just the manifestation of desire in its place?” It was always that doubt, that fear, that crept into the darkest crevices of her heart. For as long as those shadows existed, she could not bring herself closer to her own mate, afraid she would be unable to determine the answer. In return, she was afraid of what she could possibly want or feel for him.

“I wish I could make you comprehend, Elain.” Nesta frowned, “I wish I could properly convey the feeling of how your soul glows when your mate loves you—”

Before Nesta could continue, Elain found herself apologizing with a hand on her elbow. “Gods forbid that I should undervalue the love and bond you share with Cassian, or Feyre’s either for that matter. It is a reminder that bonds can be true and constant attachments.”

She could not immediately have uttered another sentence; her heart was too full, her breath too much oppressed.

“You’re a good sister,” Nesta replied affectionately and Elain wonder if her sister could see past her tenderness, if anyone could witness the mask of kindness that Elain could so easily put on for the sake of others to hide her own feelings. The conversation faded as Feyre now joined them with Nyx on her hip, a welcome distraction for Elain as the three of them turned to him. 

“Ready to go?” Cassian’s voice eventually broke through the hum of the room, an echo across the parlor. “We need to meet with Vassa and Jurian.” Lucien was folding up a letter in great haste, and either could not or would not answer fully.

“Yes,” he said. “I will winnow us. I will be ready in half a minute.” 

Cassian left to wait for him at the front door, and Lucien, having sealed his letter with great rapidity, was indeed ready, with a hurried and agitated air, as if he was greatly impatient to leave. Elain could not understand it. Cassian had given her a smile and shoulder a warm squeeze as he left the room, but from Lucien himself, not a single word. He had passed out of the room without a look.  

Elain moved closer to the table where he had been writing, when suddenly she heard footsteps returning; the door opened and it was Lucien. He gave her a polite nod and gestured to where he had forgotten his gloves, instantly crossing the room to the desk. He drew out a letter from under the scattered papers, placed it before Elain with eyes glowing in longing fixed on her, and hastily collected his gloves, once again out of the room before anyone could even be aware he had been in it at all. 

The interaction was almost beyond expression. The letter, with strokes of pen that were hardly legibly, as if rushed, read “Elain Archeron,” was evidently the one which he had been folding so hastily. While he had supposedly been writing to Helion, he had also been addressing her. On the contents of that letter depended all which this world could do for her. Anything was possible. Sinking into the chair which he had occupied, succeeding to the very spot where he had leaned and written, her eyes devoured the following words:

“I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when this bond first snapped, two and a half years ago. Dare not say that a mate’s love cannot be true, that his love is influenced by our tether. I have loved another, but none like you. Unjust I may have been, distant and resentful I have been, but never inconstant. You alone have brought me to Velaris. For you alone, I think and plan. Have you not seen this? Can you fail to have understood my wishes? I had not waited even these past few days after Solstice, could I have read your feelings, as I think you must have penetrated mine, I can hardly write. I am every instant hearing something which overpowers me. You sink your voice, but I can distinguish your true thoughts through the bond when they would be lost on others. Too good, too excellent female! You do us justice, indeed. You do believe that there is true attachment and constancy among males. Believe it to be most fervent, most undeviating in your mate,  L.V. I must go, uncertain of my fate; but I shall return hither, or follow the court, as soon as possible. A word, a look, will be enough to decide whether I enter the Night Court this evening or never again.” 

Such a letter was not to be soon recovered from. 

#elucien #pro elucien #elain x lucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #i am half agony half hope #elucien fanfic #elucien fanfiction #jane austen inspired #persuasion x elucien #you cant convince me that lucien isnt writing her letters all the time #or that sjm wasnt influenced by this book #very elucien coded

[zenkindoflove]

10 desperately

For Elucien, but like, not an established relationship.

10...desperately.

Okay, Anon. This one got smutty. I mean, I read desperately and that's where my brain went. So this is very NSFW.

10…desperately

Elain closed her bedroom door, taking her first deep breath of the day. 

He was here, of course. And because he was here, that meant that her body was not her own. Her nose could always pick up his scent, even when he was in the adjacent room. Her eyes always found him, trailing over his lean frame, noticing how nicely his pants fit him. And her ears could hear the consistent beating of his heart, thud thud, thud thud, thud thud. 

It also meant that a more primal possession controlled her emotions. The part of her that ached for his touch.

She ignored it, of course. It was improper and senseless. Her mate was still a stranger to her, and despite the call of the mating bond, Elain was determined to maintain some of her dignity. 

An entire day of ignoring her instincts left her sore and sensitive. As she slipped on her nightgown, the brush of the fabric against her nipples infused a whimper in her throat. She squeezed her core, her sex tingling with desire. It had been like this since she was Made. As a human, she remembered having a libido, but whether it was being a Fae or the mating bond, Elain found that her sexual hunger could be insatiable at times. Lucien usually had the good sense to not stay the night, and she was able to take care of her needs without him in the house. However, tonight she had heard him agree to Feyre’s offer, citing that he had a little too much to drink. 

She could still hear his heart beating through the wall. He was put in the room down the hall, and if she listened close enough, she was sure she could hear his feet rustling against the floor as he got ready for bed. 

She slid under her covers, keeping her hands over the comforter. She closed her eyes, laying on her side, squeezing her thighs tightly together. She could ignore this. She could fall asleep. 

Her thoughts drifted as she laid there. She thought about what Lucien could be doing at that very moment. Was he lying in bed as well? Did he sleep in pajamas, or just sleep pants? Maybe he wore nothing to bed at all. Maybe beneath his sheets, he was hard, his cock aching to be touched like her pussy ached now. Maybe he ran his hand over himself, rubbing his palm against his shaft once to try and relieve some of the pressure. 

Elain rolled over on her stomach, pulling her top sheet around her and bunching it up underneath. She grinded her mound against it, seeking pressure on her throbbing clit. She knew that this alone wasn’t enough to fully satisfy her, but maybe she could soothe the growing need. Chase it away, at least until morning. She thought of Lucien. She had never seen his body, but she had a fantasy in her mind of what he would look like. She rocked her hips, biting her lip as the little release of pleasure only built her growing momentum. It seemed to only make her hunger worse. She groaned, rolling on her back as she stared up at the ceiling. 

She felt something new. Some new desire filled her chest. It was raw and jagged. It sunk its teeth into her and she purred, letting the new sensation stroke her up and down. Up and down, and then Elain realized, this desire was not her own. She popped her eyes open in surprise, as she pieced together what was happening. She was feeling Lucien’s arousal down the bond. And he was…taking care of himself. 

It was still her imagination, but she could see him more clearly now. He was naked, lying on his back in bed, stroking his erection in his fist, his head thrown back with his eyes closed shut. 

Elain bunched the bottom of her nightgown in her fists, pulling it up and over her breasts. She usually didn’t wear underwear to bed, and she immediately slid her fingers through her folds. She was soaking wet, her day-long arousal making her slick and ready. She explored first, feeling how swollen she had become, toying with her entrance as she tweaked one of her nipples, until she focused on the spot that she knew would take her all the way. She rubbed her clit slowly, more than familiar now with how much pressure and speed she needed. She could make this quick. If she could feel him, she knew he would be able to feel her. It terrified and excited her all at once. 

It was different this time. It felt like she had an audience, and it made her even more sensitive. She stroked her clit faster and faster, already a surge building inside of her. She could feel Lucien peaking too, his energy ferocious and needy. But just as she approached the edge of oblivion, she suddenly hit a wall. Her acceleration stopped and she petered out. 

“No,” she whined, and she tore her nightgown over her head. She still ached, having the distinct need to be filled, and filled by something big. Something that was just on the other side of the bond, still edging on the brink. 

She felt desperate. She knew she wasn’t thinking straight, but she had been dealing with all of this on her own for two, long, excruciating years. Her body was not her own as it tugged on the bond. 

Lucien winnowed in front of her bed in an instant, completely naked. His eyes trailed over her body, drinking her in before he prowled forward on his hands and knees across the bed. His body was even better than she imagined. All lean muscles and broad, thick shoulders and biceps. Elain held her breath as he hovered over her, and she darted her sight down, taking in that thick cock that stood in attention against his flat abs. He didn’t speak, and he didn’t touch her, as he waited for her to make the first move. 

She snatched him by the back of his head and pulled his face down to kiss him. She poured her desperation into that kiss. The need for him that never stopped bleeding. The pain of her own stubbornness, of her fear and her reluctance. How she couldn’t bring herself to think of what a first step might be. What knowing him would do to her. How she understood that after just one touch, she would be his forever. How she kept herself at a distance, not ready for forever yet. 

But oh, she had to be ready now, didn’t she? 

Her kiss was a signal for Lucien to finally let go. He kissed her with tongue, diving and lapping at hers, showing her exactly what the promise of his body held. His mouth never left hers as he slid his fingers through her slit, picking up where she left off as he circled her clit until she clung to his shoulders, and he swallowed her cry of ecstasy while she climaxed against his hand. 

As Elain came down from her high, the aching, desperate need was gone, satiated by Lucien’s expert fingers. But a new temptation cast a spell over her. She hooked her knees over Lucien’s hips, crossing her legs behind him as she pulled him flush against her sex. As Lucien tore his mouth away from hers, she chased after him with her tongue, swiping a lick over his teeth and lips. He dropped his face to the crook of her neck, inhaling with a deep sniff, before groaning and pulling his hips back. He reached a hand between them, lining his cock up at her entrance. 

He didn’t push inside of her immediately, and Elain grew impatient with his hesitancy. She practically growled, tightening her legs around his ass and pushing him forward. 

She only took moments to adjust before Lucien quickened his thrusts. They both knew this would be fast, neither of them considering taking it slow. This wasn’t about learning each other's bodies. This was about soothing a burn. Elain grabbed a fist full of Lucien’s hair, tugging him down so that he could kiss her again. She wanted him to fill her mouth as well as her pussy. He pounded into her, his hard, fast movements building her up again, this time to a peak fiercer and more dangerous. Elain realized she was meeting his thrusts too, jutting her hips forward so that her clit grinded against his pelvis. She forgot about being quiet, and as her orgasm crashed through her, the most feral wail rang out of her throat. Lucien groaned as he collapsed on top of her, chanting the word “Fuck” over and over into her ear. 

Elain loosened the grip on his hair, running her hands over his scalp in a gentle caress. Her entire body tingled, a hazy, blissful fog making her forget that she and Lucien had barely spoken ten words to each other since they met. She cradled him, loving the way he felt still hard inside of her. Once the haze faded, she knew they were in for the most awkward pillow talk of all time. But for now, she basked in the moment, feeling whole inside her body for the first time. 

Kiss prompts.

#elucien #elain archeron #elain x lucien #lucien vanserra #pro elucien #elucien fanfiction #elucien smut #kiss asks #ask games #okay but everyone should be proud of me #because i actually wrote a smut scene in 1500 words #i deserve an award