#The One That Got Away {Elain and Graysen} | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stargirlie25 · 2 months

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Me having a conversation with an e/riel. Feel free to fact check by looking at the books.

Me: Why do you ship Elain and Azriel?

E/riel: Well for starters, he was the only one to go save Elain when she was in hybern.

Me: First of all, Cassian offered first. Second of all Feyre was also there and saved her (what Elain said)

E/riel: Ok but still it was romantic

Me: But it was not. Because her sister ALSO saved her :) Feyre went to UTM and got tortured,SAed,killed people and died all for Tamlin anyhow...

E/riel: Well Madja said a mate knows whats wrong with their own mate and Az figured out that Elain was a seer.

Me: Elain being a Seer was not what was wrong with her. Also Rhysand figured out Nestas power.

E/riel: Az gave Elain truthteller when he had given it to no one ever.

Me: Only because Mor begged him with tears in her eyes to stay back. Cassian offered her first (again) and then Az offered her TT bc he would not have to use it. Not to mention, Elain only took it when Feyre assured her she would not have to use it. She gave it back without a glance

E/riel: Well Feyre imagined Elain and Az as ´´Death and his lovely fawn´´

Me: Okay. Well did you also catch when she said TT is the only connection between them? Not to mention something admirable about Elain is that she is always full of light. What literally takes away Light? Darkness=Azriel. Not to mention, Azriel is death and his home sucks the life from Elain. Not that Feyres aesthetic painting mind matters anything to me :)

E/riel: What about the fact that Lucien thought Elain was crazy?

Me: What about the fact when he travelled all around to find somebody on a quest so dangerous and the only confirmation he got was from Elain?

E/riel: Elain was wearing Cobalt blue the first time she met Az.

Me: Considering Elains devotion to Graysen, there is a high chance of her wearing that color for Graysen because his crest is cobalt blue. Even if its not true, Lucien wears a coat that´s fawn brown (exact same shade of Elains eyes)

E/riel: A smile and blush bloomed on Azriel in regards to Elain.

Me: Dont care. Thats just an action. Although since you say that, did you know that a smile bloomed on Elains face after her father died (who she loved dearly) in regards to Lucien?

E/riel: What about when a charged glance went through Elain and Azriel.

Me: Sexual attraction. Lots of characters have it like Feyre and tamlin,Aelin and Chaol,Azriel to Mor....

E/riel: Well, Azriel jacks off to Elain every night while looking at the gift he got for her.

Me: Dont be shy you dont have to say a gift. You can say he jacks off to headache powder. No problem. Almost like when Nesta slept with multiple men. Trust me, that does not affect me!

E/riel: Elriel is true mates because Az was the only one to smell Eluciens bond.

Me: Bryce smelled Nessians bound, Ruhn and Lidia smelled bryce and hunts bond, Tamlin smelled feysands.

E/riel: Gwyn is a lightsinger because Az chest sparked because of her.

Me: Well than ig Lidia and Bryce are lightsingers too. Get those evil bitches away from Hunt and Ruhn right?

E/riel: There is nothing romantic for Gwynriel

Me: Thats literally just your penny for thought. Why would i care when SJM provided common banter, mate language and history for Gwynriel, and scenes where they challenge each other when she said history,sparks,conflict,and challenge all makes a good couple.

E/riel: Elain gave two gifts to Az. Not lucien

Me: Headphones for Az bc Nesta and Cass fuck so loud? So romantic i cant! Im so glad my girl SJM is saving the good,meaningful gifts for Elucien.

E/riel: Az waited for Elain to come to the table and told everybody to not eat until Elain came back.

Me: he was thinking of his mother being a slave. Thats what the situation of eating when Elain was tending to everyone reminded him of. How his mother was treated. Its not romantic but it is a very sad thing to think about.

E/riel: Azriel loves Elain. He only has not thought about a future with her because he does not allow himself to!

Me: Honestly i don´t mind that you think that! Although that is not canon. Sleeping with Elain is the only thoughts he PLEASURED himself to. Not allowed himself as some say. Again, that´s just your penny for thought. He says ´´He hadn't gone that far with his planning´´ Meaning sexual thoughts is fine but anything further is like nope, nope,nope,nope,nope too far.

E/riel: Elain literally loses her newfound boldness around Lucien.

Me: There is so many more reasons that we could come up with than what meets the eye. Have you considered it was because she didnt know what to do. Or she saw the look on Lucien ´ s face and shrank because she did not intentionally cause it and felt bad? Or maybe she FELT Luciens pain and shared it because of the bond? So much possibilities to think of especially considering we have limited text and not the actual characters POV. Also i wonder how far she will shrink when she finds out about Az and Rhysands conversation in the bonus chapter. Or maybe she heard it already?

E/riel: Azriel actually gets Elain.

Me: The way he literally does not though! When Elain begs the IC not to kill graysen Az says its best for him to be killed in acosf. When Elain says nesta cant make choices for her and then Az says she should not be exposed to the innate darkness even though later we figure out Elain is willing? When Elain says she is not a child to be fought over and than Az says he will defeat Lucien in a blood duel with her?

E/riel: Scrying is dangerous! Of course Azriel did not want her too.

Me: Yet, he said ´´Nesta really should do scrying´´ but not Elain because he underestimates her. Which is the ONLY thing SJM provides to what Az could have been doing.

E/riel: Azriel listened to Elains laugh probably because he loves the sound!

Me: Maybe its because Elain never ever laughs like that around him or the ic He was literally monitoring them which means to keep tabs on someone which directly relates to his fricking job 😂. So many words to choose from and SJM chose monitoring.

E/riel: Az gave Elain a rose necklace.

Me: Ok and? Elain gave it back. She does not want that shit. He gave it to another person. It felt wrong to clasp it around Elains neck but it sparked something in his chest and made him smile for Gwyn.

E/riel: Lucien only sees Elain for his mate but Azriel sees her for her.

Me: Nope. His reason for wanting to kiss Elain was simply ´´What fi the cauldron was wrong´´ and refers to Elain as the 3rd. She is literally a theory or more so a possibility to him. One he has not thought through in the slightest. Also, Lucien was going crazy in hybern in regards to Elain before he knew of their bond AND Elain has not accepted the bond yet he still cares for her.

E/riel: Elain called Azriels scars beautiful.

Me: first of all, its a 50% chance she called his scars beautiful. Feyre said she was not sure which one she was complimenting, the scars, or the big glowing cobalt siphon atop his hand. Second of all, even if it was 100% fact that she said his scars specifically was beautiful, it seems he does not believe it at all. He tries to not to look at his hands. He does not want to taint her with his presence or touch her beautiful skin with his scars.

E/riel: His shadows vanish around Elain and lightens. They also do that around mor who he was in love with for 500 years. Also his shadows are like snakes ready to strike in regards to Elain.

Me: Shadows lighting and vanishing are the same thing. Light takes away darkness as darkness takes away light (another reason why they are horrible together) His shadows are losing its darkness around Elain and Mor. Mor was wrong for him. The amount of pain it caused him to be in Love with her? Want that to continue with Elain and Az? Azriel does not need his darkness to be hidden. He needs it to be embraced *insert Gwyn*

E/riel: SJM would never pass on a good angsty trope like forbidden love!

Me: firstly, the only thing forbidding e/riel is Elain herself. If she rejects the bond, she can be with Az all she wants and NO ONE has a say on that. Not Rhysand. Not feyre. Not cassian. Not Lucien himself. Although she hasnt after 2 years. There is an answer to why. Its not like Elain knows she has to wait until her own book to reject it. Second of all, Forbidden love is the absolute WORST trope to give BOTH of them. For Elain, she has always hid in the shadows of her sisters in the series and the fandom. You really think Elain Archeron always full of light wants to hide in the darkness and play out Azriel´s fantasies? As for Azriel, he has been secretly silently in PAIN loving Mor for 500 years. So you want him to go through it again with Elain? No. He wants the bond nessian and feysand have. The love they share. The joy of being with your equal. The connection of a mating bond. Being proud to showcase it to the world. Forbidden love would just tear them apart.

E/riel: SJM does not write about virgin romances! Plus Gwyn is a virgin!

Me: Yes she can. Gwyn already lost her virginity against her will so biologically she is not going through the bleeding and the actual losing her physical virginity. Although it is a fact she has never slept with someone. The scene where Cassian *ahem* first enters nesta is very descriptive and SJM describes the pain of Cassian entering her......So yes she can for sure write about Gwyn having sex. This is also goes against the statement that Gwyn cant have sex because of her trauma. False. She is interested in romance books and asks Nesta if the sex was good. I think Gwyn would enjoy sex with someone she trusts in and out.

#anti elriel #anti e/riel #anti elainxazriel #anti azriel and elain #pro elucien #pro gwynriel #elucien #gwynriel

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lorcandidlucienwill · 14 days

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One thing I am certain SJM will simply gloss over is Lucien's SA trauma and how it may impact his desire to have sex, so I wrote this little scene where I explore it!

Elain pulled away from Lucien, sensing his unease. As she’d climbed on top of him, deepening the kiss, Lucien had stiffened. Elain had paused the kiss, scenting a mixture of fear and shame and sorrow on him, hearing his irregular heartbeat. Then, she’d pulled away entirely. “Elain, I-I’m sorry,” Lucien said, voice barely above a whisper. Elain didn’t respond, staring blankly into space. It was just the same as it had been with Graysen; she was unwanted, and yet with him, it was worse, it was so much worse- “Did I do something wrong?” Elain croaked. She wasn’t very experienced, after all. Perhaps she simply wasn’t good at…it. “No, Elain, it was just…” A sigh. “It was me.” When Elain finally gained the courage to look back at Lucien, she found that he was shaking all over. “What’s wrong?” Elain asked, hovering over him and placing a hand to his forehead. “Are you sick?” “Elain…” he said the name gently, lovingly. “This ailment is entirely mental. The sickness has long passed, but my memory has not abated.” It didn’t take long for Elain to figure out what Lucien meant. “Who.” She was not sure she would ever get used to this feeling: the protectiveness, the desire, the pure feral rage this mating bond brought to her body. She had read up on it, and all the books on bonds had claimed that the male feels the mating bond pull and urges more strongly; yet Elain could not imagine anything more powerful than this. Perhaps their mating bond was simply stronger, for it had snapped almost immediately upon them both meeting each other. Lucien sighed. “Ianthe. The former High Priestess. But she is dead now; killed by your sister. It is only her ghost that haunts me. I tried to sleep with many others to get the feeling of her grimy fingers off of me, but then I got mated to you not long after and…” Lucien took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m making a mountain out of a molehill.” How could he ever think it was an overreaction? A product of abuse and mistreatment, of being overlooked in favor of others his whole life, to try and minimize one’s own problems so as to not be a burden. Elain’s anger surged, demanding to be satisfied, so she reached for that connection she had with the Mother, a connection she hadn’t dared explore after the Cauldron had lured her astray. The Mother hummed in her presence. Lovely Elain. What is it you seek today, Seer? You’re the goddess. Shouldn’t you know? A laugh. Of course I know. But I would like to hear you say it. Is Ianthe rotting in hell? A pause. That is none of your concern, dear. Considering what she did to my mate, it is very much a concern. Such rage and violence does not become you, Lady Elain. Where is the kind girl I gently held in my palms and gifted with magic? Elain hissed. Maybe that girl got a little bit tired of being kind to those who don’t reciprocate. Or maybe this girl is still that gentle soul, but the mating bond demands vengeance. You are better than this, dear Elain. Rest assured; Ianthe is getting due justice served to her. You know what to do, Miss Archeron. Elain took several deep breaths as she slowly broke the connection. The Mother was right; Ianthe was gone and in hell. She musn’t let rage overcome her. She should focus on the present-her present. So, Elain willed magic into her blood, and her hands began to glow with the soft light of Dawn. Healing magic gifted by the Cauldron. She placed two fingers to each of Lucien’s temples and whispered, “Show me.” Lucien obeyed. The healing magic combined with the mating bond allowed her to sort through his thoughts and see what was going on. Calanmai. Elain remembered Feyre telling her about it.

A servant resembling a tree insisting that he must do it while Tamlin resolutely refused, saying he would not perform Calanmai without Feyre there. The panic of the servants. Lucien’s slow dawning of horror as all the faces turned to him. Him discussing with Ianthe that the rite would probably choose him, and this would be a one-time thing. Her cat-like grin as she eagerly agreed. His body glowing, his body covered in whorls of paint as Ianthe clawed at him like a wild beast. The morning after, the absence of any feeling at all, so much worse than wallowing in misery. And Elain never let her hands drop from his face. She couldn’t take away the trauma or the hurt, nor did she want to; however, she could soothe them, help the good memories overpower the bad. Elain’s joy when she’d gone to her first ball. Elain’s joy when Feyre had returned from Prythian for a brief time. All the moments she and Lucien had shared together. When she was done, they simply stared at each other for several minutes. “Thank you for showing me,” Elain said quietly. “Thank you for making the memories less painful,” Lucien whispered back. He took one of her hands, interlacing it with his own. Then he placed their linked hands over his chest. His heartbeat was a healthy, steady beat. Then, Elain crawled back onto the bed, throwing her arms around his neck. “You’re very warm,” Elain muttered into his shoulder. Lucien chuckled. “It’s the Autumn Court fire in my veins; it makes my body warmer.” “Perfect for cuddles, then.” Elain nuzzled her nose against his neck. “Exactly.” Lucien wrapped his arms around her back, tucking her in close. They didn’t move for a long time.

#lucien vanserra #elain archeron #elucien #pro elucien

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acourtofthought · 2 months

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Genuine question, but why do you want Elucien together if they aren’t in love? They aren’t currently attracted to each other right now. They can’t even be in the same room.

Is it just the potential? Or promise of the mating bond or something?

Because I shipped Elucien too when they were declared mates. But by ACOFAS, I didn’t understand why suddenly SJM decided to have them not even interact. If they ever have a conversation I might jump back over to elucien, but so far-there’s nothing between them.

And we know there can be mates that aren’t good romantic pairings. Like Rhys’s parents. All signs are currently pointing to the fact that Elucien is also one of the incompatible pairs.

Idk I just don’t understand why I should keep rooting for them if there hasn’t been any development on the page? Am I missing something??

Genuine question: Why would I want to read a love story that starts with the couple already being in love? Were Claire and Jamie from Outlander in love at the start or was she in love with and married to another man? Where she married Jamie and STILL wasn't in love with him? Were Daphne and Simon in love at the start of Bridgerton? Was he not FORCED to marry her even when he didn't want to ever marry or have children? Were Elizabeth and Darcy infatuated with one another at the start of their book? You have no canon evidence that Elain isn't attracted to Lucien. The only canon evidence we have of anything is that Elain didn't want a male or a mate. Just like Nesta didn't want a mate in her book. But guess what? Those things change. Those are just hurdles for a character to overcome. By the end of her book Nesta proudly called Cassian her mate but she got into a fight with him over it at first. Yes Elain "shrinks back" from Lucien but why are you defaulting to one possible answer "she's not attracted to him"? When you look at SJMs style of writing, isn't it more likely that Elain withdraws from Lucien because he sees her too clearly and that scares her? When Feyre tells us that Elain has even Az beat for secret keeping, isn't it possible that Lucien is the one person who can see through the secrets Elain hides and it's intimidating? Because he might see that she's not as fine and content as she'd have the others believe? Something she wants them to keep believing as she's possibly worried about disappointing them? (Rhys's words). You're right, there are couples who might not be right for one another, evidenced by the example you provided with Rhys's parents. Rhys's father was cold and vicious. Does that sound like Lucien? Rhys's father immediately stole Rhys's mother away the second the bond snapped and married her that night. Does that sound like what Lucien did with Elain? Rhys's mother pleaded with his father to ban wing clipping but he refused. Has Elain asked anything of Lucien that he was unwilling to give her? I like Elucien because neither has to be anyone different if they end up together. Elain doesn't have to struggle with cruelty bothering her as she would if she ended up with a torturer. She doesn't have to hide in the shadows as she would if she ended up with Az. She would get to enjoy balls and party and socializing in a way she wouldn't if her partner was Az who prefers his alone time. She'd get to share her love of nature with someone who the author also confirms is happiest in nature. I like the thought of Elucien because it's so clearly written on the wall that they are right for one another though it's normal that Elain isn't ready to face that yet as she's still processing trauma and figuring out who she is as a fae female. Or maybe she does realize it and it's what scares her, she already suffered rejection and a broken heart from Graysen, I don't imagine she's prepared to run into someone else's arms who has the power to hurt her. My guess is SJM hasn't had them interact because the second Elain and Lucien have a real conversation, it's over for both of them. Their hearts will be gone, flying into the palms of the other. It's more exciting to read about all that in their own POVs rather than someone else's. You don't have to root for anyone you don't like. Hell, Elucien could be endgame and you still don't need to root for them. But I grow a little tired of people acting clueless as to why Elucien's still love the idea of them together and why it's really not a problem that they aren't talking right now.

#pro elucien #elucien #lucien vanserra #pro lucien vanserra #elain archeron #anti e/riel

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duskandcobalt · 23 days

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Everywhere, Everything: Chapter Three

Chapter Summary: In the aftermath of sleeping with Azriel, Elain finds herself a distraction in the form of a new boyfriend. Only, that distraction isn't working out quite as planned.

Word Count: 3.9k

Missed the first two chapters? You can find the masterlist for this fic here 🥰

A/N: Thank you so much for all the love and support on this fic. It means everything to me 💕 Please accept my apologies in advance for this chapter lol but repeat after me - fuck! graysen!

ENJOY XX

Read on AO3

“Your mom hates me.” Elain tipped her head back against the passenger seat headrest and closed her eyes against the bright light of the full moon. Graysen’s foot pressed down on the gas pedal, sending them flying faster down the freeway towards his apartment. She couldn’t bear to look at him. Couldn’t bear to see the disappointment in his eyes, the tension in his jaw. She had one job tonight and she’d failed miserably.

“I told you to make sure you cleaned yourself up after work.” Graysen’s voice was low, barely audible over the sound of the road. His gaze stayed fixed straight ahead - as if he couldn’t stand to even glance in her direction.

Hot tears pricked at the corner of Elain’s eyes, threatening to spill. She didn’t know why she’d bothered to hope that maybe he’d try to reassure her, that he’d say something to make her feel better or to let her know that it didn’t matter to him whether or not his parents approved of his new girlfriend. It shouldn’t have surprised her that all she got was blame even if she had spent an hour in the bathroom after work, carefully pinning her hair into place and making sure her makeup was done just right.

She didn’t know how she’d failed to notice the smear of dark crimson juice that had dried on the side of her hand or how she’d forgotten to scrub off the smudge of dirt that had somehow made its way onto the side of her neck but Graysen and his mother had both certainly noticed.

It had been the first two things he had pointed out seconds after Elain slid into his car earlier, foolishly expecting a compliment on her dress - one of his favourites - only for her faults to be pointed out instead.

He’d found those things endearing once upon a time, in the early days of their relationship, back when he’d come by the apothecary after closing and crowd her up against the door or the counter. It used to be a game between them - kisses pressed along her wrists, shoulders, and neck until he could correctly guess which fruits or herbs she’d been working with that day.

She didn’t know when it had all changed but she supposed it was only to be expected given just how quickly things had progressed between them in the first place.

…

Elain had met Graysen a couple months after she’d moved to Meadowview.

She’d sworn off boys and deleted all her apps. The intention had been to take some time for herself for the first time in her entire adult life and figure out what the hell she was doing. But the universe seemingly had other plans because one week before Thanksgiving, Graysen approached Elain in the wine aisle of her local grocery store.

She’d seen him for the first time a few weeks before that. He’d been studying the bottles of wine on the top shelf and she’d caught him sneaking glances in her direction as she half heartedly scanned the lower shelves looking for something good and cheap. They’d exchanged a few coy smiles, a casual wave in greeting or farewell, but never anything more. It wasn’t until they’d ended up in the same aisle at the same time for the third week in a row that Graysen finally decided to make his move.

Elain had seen it coming from a mile away. She’d caught that initial spark of interest the very first time their eyes had met two weeks prior and she’d seen the determination in the set of his shoulders when he turned the corner that night and saw her crouched down as she tried to decide between two bottles of wine. She wasn’t even a little bit surprised when she shifted her gaze from the wine in her hands to see the supple leather shoes that had stepped into place beside her, standing in stark contrast to her own dirt streaked, worn white sneakers.

She’d slowly dragged her eyes up to see him looking down at her with a confident and obviously practiced smile - one that Elain figured he’d used on countless women over the years, easily charming them into a date or into his bed.

Graysen was tall and lean with sandy hair cropped close to his scalp and bright blue eyes that seemed to pierce straight through her. He was impeccably dressed - always in a well tailored shirt and pants with cufflinks neatly pinned to his sleeves and an expensive, probably designer, belt wrapped around his waist.

He’d introduced himself to her after she stood up on wobbly legs and Elain had found herself falling victim to that easy charm. She’d said yes to a drink with him - yes to a drink with this complete stranger - perhaps out of boredom, perhaps as a way to distract herself from the memories that continued to haunt her of her life back home, of the loss of her father, and the friend that had been there for her in the weeks after - the one that hadn’t so much as batted an eye as she ruined his t-shirts with the salt from her tears.

She’d gone out with Graysen for a drink that Saturday night and it had been… fine.

Graysen was wonderfully vanilla. Perfectly predictable. He had a routine and he stuck to it. He was just like all the other guys she tended to date - guys that were so far removed from her actual type. Which when she really thought about it, came down to just one particular man with broad shoulders and hazel eyes flecked with green if you only got close enough to notice.

She’d felt so neutral about Graysen that she hadn’t been particularly interested in seeing him again after that first night. Their date had lasted a few hours. He’d showed off by ordering an extensive bottle of wine and then explaining the various notes and flavours to her in extensive detail. He told her about his job but hadn’t really asked about hers. He hadn’t really asked her much at all that night, when she thought about it. She’d given him a kiss on the cheek and sent him on his way at the end of the night, telling him that she’d be going out of town soon but maybe they could catch up for another drink or dinner when she got back.

She had no intention of actually following through on that until she’d gone back home and royally fucked everything up by acting on a long suppressed impulse and ending her Christmas tangled in the sheets of her best friend’s bed.

What happened with Azriel was the exact reminder Elain needed that she’d been right to avoid being alone with him in the months leading up to Christmas. It was also the reminder she needed that she’d gone from relationship to relationship when she lived back home for a reason. Because even then, before the idea of Azriel being anything more than a friend had taken root in her mind, she’d somehow subconsciously known that dating someone else was the only way to keep her from falling hard and fast for him.

She’d called upon that go-to tactic once again when she’d returned back to Meadowview and decided that a distraction was extremely necessary and long overdue because just a few months of being single had sent her running into Azriel’s arms not once, but twice.

Graysen had been the obvious option. One quick text and Elain was on the road to moving forward. At least that’s what she tried to tell herself.

Elain had taken it upon herself to figure out exactly what Graysen was looking for in a girl quite early into knowing him and she’d adjusted herself accordingly - quickly and easily falling into an all too familiar routine of molding herself to be whatever someone wanted or expected her to be. She’d done it for her parents, for her sister, for her friends. And she most certainly did it for the men she dated.

She’d always excelled at it. She knew exactly how to tailor herself to be what a man desired and she’d been fine tuning her skills from a young age, leaning into the covertness of being just a pretty face. She knew how to stay quiet and be demure. She knew to let them take the spotlight, knew when to laugh at their jokes. To let them kiss her but to hold back on sex just long enough to keep them wanting more.

She’d done it all with Graysen - knew that he would love the idea of taking a pretty girl who was just a little bit rough around the edges and putting her in a sophisticated dress and expensive jewelry. Knew he’d like that she was quiet with only a few friends so that she could dedicate all her spare time to him. She’d leaned into the bit of her personality that she knew he’d love and shoved every other part of her to the side until even she forgot that they’d ever existed. She’d done it so effectively and efficiently that he’d wanted to parade her around his friends and high flying colleagues mere weeks after she’d sent him that first text.

It was supposed to be casual. It was supposed to be like all her other previous relationships that were really nothing more than just the occasional dinner and sex a few times a week until they inevitably saw through her lack of commitment and called it off. It certainly wasn’t supposed to go as far as meeting his parents and she definitely hadn’t thought that she’d ever agree to introducing him - or anyone else she’d dated - to her family.

But here they were, three months and one disastrous dinner later.

Elain had never met Graysen’s parents before but she’d heard stories and she’d seen the photos that dotted his swanky apartment in the heart of the city. She’d known just from the look of them - the severe posture and those clinical smiles - that she could expect them to be just like their son.

She’d been nervous to meet them but she’d been somewhat confident that she could charm them in the same way that she’d charmed Graysen and all the other men before him. She’d been wrong, so very wrong.

Graysen’s father had been alright. He hadn’t said much to her other than a hello and a murmured interesting that dripped in condescension after she’d informed them that she worked at an apothecary running soap making workshops and lecturing patrons on the many intricacies of herbal teas. His mother, however, hadn’t even tried to hide her distaste. Elain wondered if it wasn’t so much a personal vendetta against her specifically or something broader - a preordained disdain for any girl her only son might’ve brought to meet her.

Veronica had stared daggers at Elain for the better part of two hours - the same piercing blue eyes as her son shamelessly cataloging Elain’s black dress, one she’d spent a good chunk of her paycheck on when she’d clued into the types of restaurants and venues that Graysen liked to frequent and realised that her thrifted flowy skirts and dresses wouldn’t suffice. She’d noticed the tight frown on the woman’s thin lips as she marked the chipped red nail polish on Elain’s index finger along with that smear of cherry juice along the side of her palm. That frown had only increased each time she spoke and Veronica realised that her perfect, accomplished only son had brought a girl with two dead parents and an unfinished college degree to meet her.

Elain ran her thumb along the chain of her necklace, pressing the pad of her finger into the engraved rose as she tried to figure out how she could possibly salvage this evening but with each mile marker they passed, she only found herself withdrawing further and further into herself until all the light had left Graysen’s eyes and the grip of the hand he had on the steering wheel had turned his knuckles white.

For twenty minutes, she sat in the car and rehashed every second, trying to figure out what she could’ve done better. Had she talked too much? Too little? Laughed too loud like she had a tendency to do when she got nervous?

They were almost back to his apartment when she felt his attention on her again. Elain raised her eyes to his just as his hand fell to her thigh, fingers pressing in lightly through the satin of her dress.

“Lain,” Graysen started.

“I told you not to call me that.” Elain interrupted him. Only one person had ever used that nickname for her and she couldn’t stand the sound of it from anyone else, but especially not from another man. She’d made that clear to Graysen in their first few weeks together.

“El,” Graysen corrected himself, sighing in frustration before he continued. “My mom can be extremely critical but she’ll come around.”

“You didn’t even try, Gray. You didn’t even try to defend me or anything.”

“I know. I should have said something but I was just frustrated because I told you to clean up and I thought you’d answer their questions -”

“You’re turning it on me again,” Elain pinched the bridge of her nose. “What did you want me to do? Lie about my career? Tell them that I grew up like you did?”.

“No, I just… fuck, I just wanted them to like you because I… I love you.” Graysen paused, reaching for her hand. “You know I love you. Don’t you, El?”

Elain’s heart dropped and she tensed under his grip as a flood of indecipherable feelings hit her.

This wasn’t the first time she’d received a halfhearted apology from him after he’d hurt her feelings and she suspected it wouldn’t be the last. At least this time the apology had come directly from him in a timely manner instead of being delivered as a note written by someone else and attached to an overpriced bouquet of flowers or yet another necklace that would sit on her dresser untouched for months to come.

“I know, it’s fine.” She finally said, bringing his hand up to her lips and pressing a kiss to the back of his palm. He’d told her he loved her a few times now but she’d never said it back. Not when she couldn’t quite return the sentiment. Instead, she waited for him to pull into the driveway and put the car in park before she leant over the center console and slid her hand up his neck to tilt his face towards hers for a slow, deep kiss.

Once he pulled away, forehead against hers, chest rising and falling unsteadily, Elain laughed under her breath and gently tapped the sliver of skin visible where he’d undone the first couple of buttons on his crisp, white shirt. “Maybe my sisters will hate you and then we can call it even.”

A small part of her regretted the pettiness of the words but she couldn’t help but allow herself to make the joke, not after the night they’d had. Luckily for her, it seemed that her kiss had done enough to diffuse the situation because he didn’t come back with a sharp retort of his own. Just a huff of breath and a small shake of his head as he turned the engine off.

Two weeks. She had two weeks until she had to make good on her panicked decision to go home for Nyx’s fifth birthday and then the accompanying panicked agreement she’d made when Graysen suggested accompanying her on the trip in front of his parents.

Elain pushed the thought from her mind. She couldn't think about all that would entail. What going back home would now look like. How much more anxious she felt about it now compared to her last trip back home because now she had an actual reason to be nervous.

It wasn’t enough to be faced with the predicament of potentially seeing Azriel again but this time she had to do it while pretending that they hadn’t done what they’d done… and she’d have to do it all with her new boyfriend watching as a front row spectator.

She’d never once introduced any of the guys she’d dated to her family. Never once had they stepped foot into her house or shaken her father’s hand. Not a single one of them had ever been subjected to the scrutiny of Nesta’s menacing gaze.

But she couldn’t very well say anything to deter him now. She’d gotten herself into this hole and now there was no way out.

She knew it was a stupid decision to take him back home with her but a small, reckless part of her wondered if this wasn’t for the best because even after months of establishing a relationship with Graysen in the hopes of erasing what she’d done with Azriel, it was a lost cause.

It wasn’t even the memory of his skin under her palms that hurt the most, it was everything else she’d lost as a result of crossing that line.

It felt like she was missing a huge chunk of herself. There were empty spaces in her life where Azriel used to be and as much as she’d tried to fill in those gaps with someone else, it just wasn’t the same. She still found herself checking her phone first thing in the morning to see if he’d texted her. She missed seeing his picture pop up on her phone when he called. The random photos of Shadow he used to send her and the constant stream of conversation between them. All their inside jokes. She found reminders of him everywhere and it was hell to keep pretending like she was fine with it all. To keep pretending that anyone else would ever be able to understand her the way Azriel had.

But she’d done this. She’d made that first move and ruined something that had been so natural and easy.

Maybe it was best to take Graysen back home and put the final nail in the coffin because with any luck, introducing someone to her family - to Azriel - would make this all real and would force her to move on once and for all.

…

Azriel sat at Feyre and Rhys’s kitchen counter, woefully tossing MnMs at their toddler who was trying - and failing - to catch them in his mouth.

He’d been spending the last few weeks like this, trailing Rhysand’s family like a lost puppy because he simply had nothing better to do with his life.

It’d been just over three months since he’d woken up to an empty bed after what he might’ve deemed to be the best night of his life had it not all gone to hell and while he thought it would get easier with time, it most certainly hadn’t.

Every day was the same. Wake up, walk Shadow, work out with Cassian, log in to work and stare at a screen for hours on end, walk Shadow again, go to bed. Rinse. Repeat.

He’d tried all his old tactics of distractions but no amount of drinking in his local bar or aimlessly flirting with whatever girl inevitably sauntered up to him could ease the ache that had taken root in his chest. He hadn’t been able to be with anyone else since that night. He’d tried - just once - a couple weeks after Christmas, and it had ended with him abruptly pulling away from a half naked, very confused girl just as she’d reached for his belt. He’d apologised profusely and left her apartment promptly to go back to his own house and contemplate how he’d gone from a regular rotation of casual hookups to not even being able to kiss a girl without thinking about Elain.

Really, he shouldn’t have been surprised because Elain was all he ever thought about. Every day. Every night. Each time he flipped over his phone just to check if maybe she’d decided to break her silence. He’d been torturing himself endlessly like this for months now to no avail.

It’s why - when he heard Feyre mention Elain’s name in passing as she spoke to Rhys- he found himself speaking before he could even think to stop himself.

“How’s she been?” He asked, trying desperately to keep his voice level as he reminded himself that there was nothing unusual about asking after a friend.

Still, Rhys gave him one of those looks that he’d been giving him for years at the slightest mention of his wife’s older sister. He wondered if Rhys would go into cardiac arrest if he ever found out exactly what Azriel had done with his friend’s beloved sister-in-law.

“She’s good!” Feyre gave him a bright smile. “I actually spoke to her yesterday for the first time in weeks.”

There was nothing on her face to hint that she knew exactly why he was asking. He certainly hadn’t said anything to her after Christmas. He’d kept what happened to himself. Had only casually asked Nesta about her sister’s whereabouts just to be told that Elain had needed to leave because of an emergency at work.

“Oh, that’s good.” Azriel returned her smile with a small one of his own.

“She’s coming back for a visit in a couple weeks.” Feyre continued, her smile faltering ever so slightly.

Azriel stilled.

“For Nyx’s birthday,” Rhys chimed in, once again carefully studying Azriel before he continued. “And she’s bringing… what’s his name, again?”

“Graysen.” Feyre nodded, raising up onto her tiptoes and then back down again. It was a nervous habit of hers that Azriel had picked up on by the second or third time he’d hung out with her because she’d done it constantly around Rhys in those early days.

Graysen.

He could pretend that he’d never heard that name before but he’d be lying if he didn’t say he’d scrolled through Elain’s social media to find a picture of him the first time he’d heard Feyre and Nesta gossiping about some new guy Elain had been seeing back in January. He hadn’t found much, just a glimpse of blonde hair and an expensive watch in the background of a picture she’d taken while out to dinner..

He’d seen no sign of a man in any of her limited posts since then and he’d selfishly hoped that that had meant it hadn’t gone anywhere.

“He’s coming back with her? Here?” Azriel asked slowly, staring straight at Feyre while refusing to look at Rhys. He knew his friend’s eyes would be narrowed in suspicion.

A soft ringing filled Azriel’s ears as his heart slammed against his chest. He didn’t let any of it show on the outside, going out of his way to maintain that calm and collected mask he was known for. But it was dread that coursed through him. Dread that extinguished any hope and excitement he might have once felt at the prospect of Elain returning home.

“Yeah. It must be serious,” Feyre swallowed as she once again raised up onto her tiptoes and then back down again before she met Azriel’s eyes. He was usually so good at reading people but for the first time ever, he couldn’t quite put his thumb on what he saw in Feyre’s gaze as she looked at him. “If she’s actually willing to let us meet him.”

#elriel fic #everywhere everything #my writing #elain x azriel #elain archeron #elriel #modern au #acotar fanfiction #elriel fanfiction #elriel fanfic

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iambutmortal · 4 months

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This Is the Part You Get Left Behind

Summary: When Elain finds out her boyfriend is cheating on her, she decides sex with his roommate is the best way to get revenge.

Pairing: Elucien

Word Count: 2.5k

Authors Note: @vulpes-fennec Merry Christmas! I'm not your original Secret Santa, but I wanted to make sure you still got something for Christmas. Thank you for being such a great friend this year, I loved getting to know you better. You mentioned wanting a college AU, so I hope this fits the bill. Also, the biggest of all thanks to the amazing talented stunning @velidewrites for making the moodboard, we don't deserve your talents. @acotargiftexchange

Read on AO3

Elain swallowed down her mounting anxiety and pasted on a smile, the one she spent hours in the mirror perfecting. The smile Graysen said had made him notice her, when her picture had been posted on her sorority’s Instagram.

As she crept down the hall, she tugged on the hem of her jacket, checking once again that it was covering her utter lack of clothing. She felt stupid, walking into the men's dorm at Prythian University in nothing but lingerie and a trench coat, like someone out of a cheap porno, but she wanted to do something nice for Graysen on their three month anniversary.

They were supposed to go to dinner, the nice one people took their parents to for parents weekend, but Graysen had canceled at the last minute, citing an investment club meeting. Which Elain was fine with, especially since Graysen reminded her constantly how important meeting attendance was.

His future in investment banking depended on a college club, apparently.

So Elain had swallowed down her disappointment and begged her older sister Nesta to buy a bottle of champagne, slid on the set of lacy white underwear she’d bought specifically for tonight, put only her jacket on top, and set out to surprise him.

If she couldn’t get dinner out of their anniversary, the least she could get was good sex.

Or mediocre sex, Graysen was about as good as one could expect out of a twenty year old college student. Which meant Elain having to sneak into the bathroom to finish herself off more often than not.

Elain squared her shoulders when she reached Graysen’s door, and checked her phone. Six thirty, plenty of time for Graysen to get back from his meeting.

This was the boldest she’d ever been in their relationship, showing up unannounced, but Graysen always complained she was too timid. Except for the few times she’d tried to take control during sex and he’d gotten upset, complaining that she didn’t do it right when she got on top.

Elain triple checked to make sure no one was coming before unbuttoning her jacket, leaving her utterly exposed in the hallway. She hoisted the champagne bottle up, an offering, and knocked.

It felt like an eternity ticked by as she waited for Graysen, standing there shivering in the cool air of the hallway. They probably kept the dorms cold to deter stupid girls from showing up outside of their boyfriends doors wearing nothing but a thong and bra.

Elain was ready to text Graysen and ask where on earth he was and the door opened.

Revealing a very shirtless, very confused looking Lucien Vanserra.

On an abstract level, Elain knew that Graysen had a roommate, heard him complain about Lucien enough times. She also knew, hypothetically, who Lucien Vanserra was. Everyone on campus did, he was captain of the rowing team, the one sport Prythian could claim any success in.

None of that had prepared her to actually see him. The idea that he could be home had never even crossed her mind. The few times she’d previously been over were when Lucien was out, traveling for some away regatta.

“Elain?” Lucien asked, clearly very confused by her lack of proper attire.

The fact that he knew her name made it worse, and Elain prayed fervently for a crack to open up in the ugly gray carpet and swallow her up.

“Is Graysen here?” she squeaked out.

“No,” Lucien said, checking behind him as if his roommate would magically appear somewhere in the twelve by twenty foot room and save them both. “He left a while ago, I think for a date?”

Elain’s brow furrowed. “He canceled our date.”

If possible, Lucien looked even more embarrassed than Elain felt. “I, uh, I think he was going with Ianthe? She’s in our calculus class.”

“But it’s our three month anniversary,” Elain said stupidly. It’s the only thing she could think of at that moment.

Lucien looked away from the ceiling he’d been dutifully staring at, taking in the lacy underwear, the bottle of thirty dollar champagne, and the tears that had started welling in Elain’s eyes, making her vision watery.

“Do you want to come in?” he asked, stepping aside to clear the doorway.

Elain figured her options were cry in front of Lucien or cry in front of the entire dorm, and followed Lucien inside. At least this way only one person would have to see her breakdown.

While Lucien threw on a white t-shirt, covering the smooth expanse of brown skin and muscles of his chest, Elain set the champagne down on his desk with a heavy thud, and plopped down on his desk chair.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, silent except for her occasional sniffles.

Lucien looked like he very much wanted to be anywhere else as he handed her one of his shirts to put on. Prythian U Rowing was emblazoned on the front, along with the picture of an oar. Elain took it gratefully, slipping it on.

“Graysen’s a dick,” Lucien said, reaching over Elain to grab a box from the wall shelves. “An absolute tool.”

“Then why are you his roommate?” Elain asked, wiping her eyes with the edge of Lucien’s shirt.

“His dad is best friends with my stepdad. Makes him hard to avoid.” Lucien slid a coffee mug under his keurig, one of the nice ones Elain was too poor to even hope to buy. “Beron offered to pay my tuition if I lived with him, something about building business connections. And damn me if I don’t regret it every day.”

He pulled the mug out and offered it to Elain. “Hot chocolate?”

Elain took it gratefully.

“My mom usually makes it with real chocolate on milk,” Lucien said sheepishly. “But I’m a little limited on kitchen gadgets.”

“It’s perfect,” Elain said. Her parents had never had time, or desire, to make anything homemade, so Swiss Miss bought her immeasurable amounts of comfort. She also, privately, thought it tasted better.

“Do you want me to see if I can call Graysen,” Lucien asked, pulling out his phone. “Ask what’s up.”

“I think it’s pretty clear what’s up,” Elain muttered. He thought she was an idiot who wouldn’t notice him two timing her. Which he was partially right about, since he’d been getting away with it for this long.

Uncharacteristic anger filled her, and Elain wondered if this was what Nesta felt like all the time. If this was the energy that led to Nesta chaining herself to Prythian’s oldest library her sophomore year when the school wanted to tear it down to build a new parking garage.

“I hate him,” Elain yelled. “I hate him so fucking much.”

“Trust me, the feeling’s mutual,” Lucien said, gently taking the hot chocolate mug out of her hands. Elain hadn’t realized how hard she’d been squeezing it. “And he snores.”

Despite herself, Elain chuckled. “He couldn’t even figure out how to make me come,” she admitted. “I don’t think he ever found my clit.”

Lucien frowned, suddenly serious. “Now that won’t do. Imagine having Elain Archeron in your bed and not worshiping her.”

Elain’s face flushed hot, noticing the almost hungry way Lucien was looking at her. He really was handsome, with a strong jawline and chiseled brow. Probably why the university put him on all the athletic promotions.

“I didn’t think you knew who I was,” Elain admitted. After all, why would he. She was studying bio, he spent all his time in the business school.

Lucien’s russet eyes met hers. “You’re a very hard person to miss, Elain.”

Elain averted her gaze first, backing down. “I should go.”

“You could,” Lucien said, leaning against his bed. “But I know what would make Graysen pissed.”

“What,” Elain said, that anger roaring back to life.

“We could fuck on his bed,” Lucien said.

“We could not,” Elain gasped. Although the idea was tempting. She’d seen Lucien shirtless now, and the photos of him in his skintight spandex uni plastered across campus did little to hide how well endowed he was.

Lucien cocked his head. “Why not? Who’s going to stop us, Graysen’s still out on his date.”

“It would be cheating,” Elain protested weakly.

“Cheating on the three month relationship he never cared about?” Lucien taunted, one brow raised. Elain should have been offended, should have stormed out, but she stayed in his chair, staring up at him.

“What would my sisters think?”

“I highly doubt Feyre, who strung our quarterback’s underwear from the flagpole when she found out Tamlin tried to steal her car keys so she couldn’t drive home for thanksgiving, is going to judge you.”

Elain bit her cheek, rising to her feet. “What’s college for if not making dumb decisions.”

Lucien watched her like she was prey, and he was the hunter, as she slid past him and hopped up on Graysen’s navy blue comforter.

It was always navy blue. Although Elain couldn’t help but notice Lucien had rather nice maroon sheets on his side of the room.

Any thoughts Elain had about interior decorating quickly disappeared as Lucien all but punched, pressing his lips against hers. His hips fell between the cradle of her thighs, and Elain arched back into him. She reveled at the sensation. He was already so much more than Graysen as he claimed her lips.

One of Lucien’s hands reached down to wrap around her hip, skimming under his shirt.

“I like seeing you in my clothes,” Lucien said, before gripping the hem of the blue fabric and yanking it off.

“And you like seeing me out of it more?” Elain teased.

“Just want Graysen to know where we were,” Lucien said. He kissed his way down Elain’s jaw, her neck, her chest, paying special attention to her breasts, still covered in lace.

He sucked on her nipple through the fabric, making it stand hard.

“Lucien,” Elain hissed. Her core was aching, and she didn’t know if she wanted him to move his head lower, or to take his pants off.

He made her decision for her, replacing his lips with his fingers as he lowered his head between her thighs.

“May I?” he asked, the picture of politeness. As if they weren’t currently doing the filthiest thing of Elain’s life.

Elain lifted her hips in silent permission, letting Lucien drag the slip of underwear down her legs. He deliberately placed them on Graysen’s pillow with a wink that had Elain clenching her legs together. Lucien wrapped his hands around her thighs, prying them open.

“None of that,” Lucien said. “Not when I’ve been thinking about this for a long time.”

“You have?”

“Since we shared that bio class freshman year.”

Elain had a vague memory of Lucien, the flash of red that always slid into the back row at the last minute, late from practice. Although she’d been half asleep at nine am. Maybe he had missed something.

“Oh,” Elain said. Which quickly became a moan as Lucien bent down and licked a stripe through her folds.

“You taste…” Lucien said, trailing off and licking her again.

“Lucien,” Elain whined, fishting her hands in Graysen’s sheets. She couldn’t remember the last time Graysen had gone down on her. He’d complained it wasn’t fun for him, and left it at that.

Lucien, on the other hand, ate pussy like it was his job. His hand was still on her breast, rolling her nipple in time with his tongue, sending waves of pleasure rolling through her body.

“Faster,” Elain demanded, sliding her fingers through Lucien’s long red hair and pulling him closer.

Lucien groaned as her nails scraped his scalp, following her lead. “Tell me what you need.”

Elain looked down at him wide eyed. Lucien gave her a soft smile of encouragement.

“Use your fingers,” Elain ordered. Lucien’s smile became a smirk as he slid his pointer into her cunt, and Elain clenched around it.

“Another.”

He added his middle, punctuated by a flick of her clit with his thumb. Dragged his fingers in and out.

“Come for me,” Lucien said, his low voice rumbling along her body.

“Fuck,” Elain breathed, as pleasure licked down her spine, sending her over the edge.

Lucien lifted himself over her, held up by powerful thighs earned from hours of practice, and kissed her sloppily. Elain could taste herself on his tongue. She reached down for his shirt, ready to pull it off.

The sound of the door opening made her freeze.

“What the fuck,” yelled Graysen.

Lucien scrambled off her, and Elain reached behind her searching for her discarded shirt.

“In my bed,” Graysen continued, “you’re fucking in my bed.” He was still standing in the doorway, Ianthe peering over his shoulder.

“Go screw yourself Graysen,” Lucien said, standing in front of Elain to block her from sight while she quickly covered herself.

“I, I,” Graysen spluttered. His eyes narrowed. “I’ll tell Beron what you did. I’m sure you stepfather will love this.”

“Beron would probably pat me on the back. And,” Elain could hear the sly grin in Lucien’s voice, “I’ll tell your father you got rejected from investment club.”

Graysen’s face turned a shade of red Elain wasn’t sure was possible in nature, and she snorted.

Lucien glanced behind him, checking that she was ready, and held out his hand. She took it, and he pulled her off the bed and out of the room. Graysen quickly backed away to give them space.

“Anything else to add?” Elain asked innocently.

Graysen just stared.

“Thought so,” Lucien said, smugly, leading Elain down the hallway.

They collapsed on one of the lounge couches as soon as they were out of sight, and Elain couldn’t stop the laughter from bubbling out of her.

“Did you see his face?” she gasped.

“Priceless. Absolutely priceless. God I can’t wait to rub this in his face at the office Christmas party.”

Elain sobered, remembering that Lucien had so much more to lose than her. “I’m sorry if I ruined your roommate relationship.”

“Nah,” Lucien said, waving his hand. “I’ve wanted to move off campus for ages, ever since the school upped my athletic scholarship and I didn’t need my stepdad to keep paying tuition. Jurian’s been begging me to move in with him.”

“Good,” Elain said. She bit her lip. “So that’s it then, see you around?”

Hurt flashed across Lucien’s face. “So that’s it then, just going to love me and leave me?” he asked with forced lightness.

“Unless you maybe wanted to get coffee tomorrow?”

Lucien brightened. “I have mandatory athletic study hour until two, but we could go after that?”

“Meet you at the library then,” Elain said, standing up.

“Until then.” Lucien gave her a lovesick grin. One Elain couldn’t help but meet.

The next day, Lucien was waiting outside the library, a bouquet of white flowers in hand. White that matched the pair of panties she’d left in his room. “To remind you of last night,” he said with a wink.

#elucien #acotar #elucien fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #elain x lucien

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starsreminisce · 4 months

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Every once in a while, there is some comment that suggests Elain and Lucien's mating bond is off or fake. I actually argue quite the opposite, and I think Lucien is intuitively attuned to Elain's emotions, and their bond is the strongest between the three sisters. I also think that when Elain is not doing well, Lucien starts showing up more.

This makes his appearance during ACOSF solstice even more interesting to me, given that he was absent for ACOSAF's solstice, both of them declaring that they can't stand to be around each other.

Feysand's bond is mental, Nessian's bond is physical, and Elucien's bond is emotional. I also think this manifests in how each of the sisters pushed away from their mate: Feyre thinking she should still be with Tamlin, Nesta randomly hooking up with random males. I also think it's how their mate helped their respective partner heal. Feyre and Nesta are similar in that both don't want to be weak or helpless anymore, but the end of their healing was marked differently. Feyre's was marked when she secured the Ouroboros with a message that suggests the mental power needed with a statement like "Only you can decide what breaks you," and Nesta's was marked by the Blood Rite.

We can go through the end of ACOMAF and the parts in ACOWAR where Lucien has been the only one advocating for Elain and just knowing what she needs while giving enough distance to prevent overwhelming her.

The part that sticks out to me was when Lucien decided to find Vassa, and he specifically said that "I’m not needed here. I’ll fight if you need me to." They were left alone for the first time, Elain wanted to stop him but she didn't, and he left to fulfill her prophecy.

The next scenes we had Elain enjoying herself to make bread (an act associated with accepting the bond, just saying), Elain speaking up to use her to convince Graysen to do something for the humans, we find out that Lucien is the heir to the Day Court (fulfilling Elain's need for sunshine), Elain's “His name is Lucien."

When was the next time we saw Lucien and Elain together? After Hybern had been defeated, and he came running to her, spying the blood on her hands and asking if she was okay, then offering his condolences and then his praise. I also have to remind y'all that Azriel saw her first and said nothing when she forced Truth-Teller back to him. In his bonus chapter, he didn't have a thought in regards to this either.

In ACOSAF, people also ignore that Lucien tried to be there for Elain, and she was "too polite" to turn him away until he got the hint and left. What stood out to me, though, was during the Solstice, it was Lucien who told Elain not to be troubled because he wouldn't be staying for long, and it was Lucien who turned down Feyre's invitation to both stay for the festivities and stay in Velaris for two weeks to "get to know Elain" before announcing that he would be moving in with Jurian and Vassa. Elain was in a pretty good place at this point in time.

However, in ACOSF, we get this little nugget:

But Elain said, “I went into the Cauldron, too, you know. And it captured me. And yet somehow all you think of is what my trauma did to you.”

On top of that, Elain and Nesta became estranged, Azriel pulling back his interactions with her, her being denied to search for the trove or being prevented from doing more than just tending to her little garden.

Is it a coincidence that Elain insisted on attending the Hewn City Solstice, knowing that its cruelty bothered her, was described as wearing pearl barrettes, and then the following day, Lucien was at the Inner Circle solstice, seemingly recanting his stance of not being able to stand to be around her for two minutes and his present of pearl earrings.

I don't think it's meant to be cruel on his behalf, considering he tried to hide his disappointment from her reaction upon receiving his present, but I do wonder if it's meant to be a statement that he sees what she's trying to do and trying to be as supportive as he could while still allowing her to dictate how their interactions would go.

Some people demand two extremities: either he is around too much or he doesn't care enough to try, but they fail to see how perfectly middle-ground Lucien is being. He is still accessible for her while allowing her to choose if she wants to interact with him.

ACOSAF Solstice = Elain happy and excited over cooking for everyone = Lucien saying he is not staying.

ACOSF Solstice = Elain pushing back on attending Hewn City, a place that brings her discomfort = Lucien staying for that Solstice.

Elain and Lucien are both capable of voicing out when things bother them, especially towards each other, as seen in ACOSAF, but I don't think if Lucien knew he was not wanted by her in ACOSAF solstice, he wouldn't have attended ACOSF solstice. He also would not have attended the Starfall in the later months, especially if there had been secret progress between her and Azriel.

Rhys came to Feyre's aid when she called for help mentally as she walked down the aisle, Cassian came to Nesta's aid when she was physically at her weakest, so it makes me wonder if Elain is approaching an emotional tipping point where she can't keep pretending that everything is fine when she sees both her sisters successfully moved on from their trauma because of help from their mates, Nesta especially.

We also have to acknowledge that the scent of their bond is strong a year later. I wonder if this manifested with Cassian asking Lucien where Elain was when he visited their training and Nesta calling Elain a wrench for staying far away from him as confirmation they too smell it. I would go so far as to wonder if that's why Rhys specifically brought up that Lucien has a right to the blood duel to Azriel because he smelled their bond. The only person that smell mattered to is Azriel.

So yeah, all in all, if SJM wanted to continue the train that Elain would reject the bond, she would have made other choices in ACOSF, starting with Vassa's development, Cassian's observations that Lucien is adamant about not being in Velaris, Elain trying to get closer to Azriel, Nesta flat out saying that it was Elain that Azriel was pining over by the fire, and it would have continued after Solstice where Azriel and Elain nearly kissed.

Instead, SJM chose to make their only interaction with that Lucien still looks at Elain with longing and Elain's bravado disappearing when he did.

#elucien #pro elucien #elain x lucien #elucien theory

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theladyofbloodshed · 8 months

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Hey if you’re taking prompts would you do Nesta finally telling Cassian about Tomas and him comforting her?

To kill two birds with one stone... Nessian snippet. TW for sexual assault.

...

‘You could try being nicer.’

One word. Three letters. Try. Hadn’t she tried enough?

Cassian shrugged. ‘I’m just saying they’re used to their females being meek and looking at the ground rather than staring directly in their eyes. You don’t have to be their friends, just be a bit nicer and don’t take everything they say as an insult.’

That familiar flare of her nostrils came as her knife sliced through a tomato for dinner. ‘I’m sorry aren’t these the same males you said you wished you could push off a cliff?’

‘That was last week. Now, we are in Illyria playing peacemakers so be nice.’

‘I was nice to somebody once who didn’t deserve it. Never again, Cassian.’

The grating tone of her voice had Cassian pausing from peeling cloves of garlic. He glanced sidelong at her, worry furrowing his dark brow.

‘Who?’

Nesta pushed the tomatoes to the edge of the chopping board then attacked the onion with more force than it warranted. ‘Are you asking me for a list of people that I’ve ever been nice to?’

‘No. I’m asking who has made you clench that knife so hard that your knuckles are white.’

Suddenly, Cassian wasn’t her mate anymore. They weren’t in an isolated cabin in Illyria with only the wild, rugged nature for company. She was a mortal receiving a faerie general in her bedroom, waiting expectantly for a letter from her estranged sister. Cassian had crossed the room that day and she had dared to brush her body against his, to press her hand against his chest. Then the memory of Tomas had threatened to drown her and Cassian – somehow – had recognised that brief moment of blind fear. He had held her wrist to his body, demanding to know who had caused that terror to flare behind her eyes. Cassian hadn’t even known her then. But he’d have found Tomas and made him pay.

‘I’m not hungry,’ she declared, releasing the knife and leaving Cassian to prepare a dinner alone.

It took Cassian all of three minutes to follow her up the stairs, move her away from the dresser, and sit her on the edge of the bed. It groaned under his heavy weight as he settled beside her.

‘We’ve had this conversation many times, Nes. You need to open the door, not shut me out.’

‘Why do you care?’

‘Because you know more about my five hundred years than I know about your twenty.’ His knuckles grazed her cheek. ‘Were you talking about Rhys?’

‘My life doesn’t resolve around Rhysand.’

She tried to stand, but Cassian slunk his arm around her waist, pinning her. ‘Tell me.’

‘It was my fault,’ she said, voice as brittle as she felt. ‘I was nice to him. And look where it got me.’

‘Who?’

She forced a breath out from between her pursed lips. It was a wound she’d avoided looking at, even when it ached and pulsed.

‘Why do you still hide from me? You’ve been my mate for a year. Why do you think I won’t support you?’

Nesta couldn’t look at the kindness in his eyes. She still struggled with these declarations because Cassian was always genuine. He would always give rather than take. Her fingers edged closer to his then tangled with them.

‘A boy from the village. There were no options for girls like us – poor girls with no dowry. I was beautiful and untouched but that was all I had to offer. Tomas was poor too. Not as bad as we were, but not rich by any means – not like Graysen. Feyre warned me off of him but then she left.’

Then it fell to Nesta to figure out a way to feed her and Elain’s starving bellies. If she had known that Tamlin would have sent a treasury of gems and jewels, Nesta never would have been nice to Tomas.

‘He hunted like Feyre in the woods. After she’d gone, he caught up with me once and offered to walk me home. I would have said no. I never let boys walk me home. But he had two pheasants hanging in his hand and we were starving. So I was nice to him. I smiled at everything he said, batted my eyelashes when he complimented me, and told him at the end I’d hope to see him again.’ Nesta let out a low laugh. ‘The next day, he brought me a dead pheasant. What a catch.’

Cassian shrugged his shoulders. ‘You did what you needed to so that you were both fed. It’s not the end of the world.’

‘Tomas continued to court me - small walks so I wouldn’t be sequestered in that awful cottage with my father. His mother was often bruised, but I hoped that Tomas was not like his father. If I married him and left then maybe father would do something to feed his precious Elain and I would have a husband to take care of me. But Tomas could speak cruelly about other villagers. He would laugh at the elderly when they struggled, would sneer at the poorest children. I don’t know if he thought it would impress me.’

The walks became insufferable. She began to dread the knock at the door. Any other man would have spoken to her father to gain his permission, would have been polite, would have ensured they had an escort. Any decent or proper man would have.

The more time that they spent in each other’s company, the more Nesta despised him. She had to listen to his insufferable arrogance in exchange for a lump of stringy meat. Had to listen to him talk about the other girls in the village as if he was comparing cattle. It became apparent that, rather than being his father’s opposite, he was moulding Tomas into something worse than him.

Then he had tried to kiss Nesta.

He’d grabbed her suddenly at the edge of the narrow path leading to their cottage.

It had happened so quickly that Nesta barely had enough time to swoop her head upwards. Tomas’ lips had clattered against her jaw. The flush on her face had not been from modesty but sheer mortification that Tomas would dare to grab her like a possession and stake a claim on her without proper courting or permission. Nesta had feigned shyness, but had seethed that night in bed beside Elain. She had barely slept through anger.

‘I was nice to him, Cassian, and do you know what he did?’

Nesta remembered her mother’s teachings. Always smile and agree with what the men say. Never show anger because a man can always match it and then some. Be palatable. Be agreeable. Be nothing at all - except his.

In the square, where it was quiet but visible, Nesta spoke clearly to Tomas that day. She no longer wanted to spend time with him. There was no dowry to be offered therefore no marriage to occur. It was unfair of her to take his time when a future was impossible. It was the nicest way she could think of that wouldn’t invoke anger. What Nesta had wanted to say was that he was arrogant and rude, and any woman that was forced to spend another moment in his company had likely been cursed. Tomas had taken it well. He’d agreed, dipped his chin and agreed. In fact, when Nesta looked back, it had been too agreeable. Too unlike Tomas Mandray.

He'd emerged that afternoon from the woods like a beast. Nesta had jumped out of her skin. But she had seen the anger in his eyes.

‘Our cottage veered off from the others. It was isolated from anybody else. Tomas knew that.’

Cassian’s fists clenched.

‘Tomas called me a stupid slut who deserved everything I got for leading him on then he dragged me into the forest.’

When they’d been in the war and she’d first heard the healers ripping cloth for bandages, her heart had felt like it was caving in as she remembered the way Tomas’ hands had clawed at her dress, tearing the ribbons clean off and splitting the gown at its seams. It had exposed her chest and the worn chemise below.

‘I managed to get away from him. I wasn’t nice then.’

Only blind terror had helped her navigate that situation. Negotiation was not an option. No niceness would have got her through it. Nesta had scratched and kicked even as Tomas pressed her against tree roots. He bruised the inside of her thighs trying to pin her with his knees. When her forehead made contact with his nose, the sudden burst of his blood on her face gave them pause. It was enough for Nesta to raise her knee with enough force to have him double over, wheezing. She’d run home, blood on her ruined gown. Elain was out. Father paid her no attention even as she threw the gown on the fire. They only had five dresses between them but that one needed to burn.

Nesta massaged her face. ‘I will not be nice to males anymore to please them. I will not be nice because it makes their lives easier if I am. Because the last time I was nice to a boy, look what happened. If I hadn’t been nice then I never would have put myself in that silly situation. I should have known better.’

Like a petal in the sun, Cassian unfurled his fingers from the fists they’d been balled into. Gently, he took both of her hands. The warmth of his skin was always welcome. Always comforting.

‘Nes, none of that was your fault. It was all him. Don’t ever blame yourself for somebody else’s actions. It’s easy to wish you’d done things different with hindsight. You could have been horrid to him and he still might have done it. It wasn’t your niceness that made him do that. He did it because he’s an animal.’ Cassian leaned forwards and kissed her forehead. ‘Now tell me where I can find him because I’d like to peel every inch of skin from his bones.’

When Cassian wrapped an arm around her shoulders, she sunk into her mate’s embrace. These arms were home. She wouldn’t tell him where Tomas could be found because nobody deserved the sort of pain that Cassian’s eyes promised.

‘I’m sorry that I asked you to be nicer to the males. It’s not on you to change to suit them.’

Nesta nodded in agreement. She was nice, when she wanted to be, to those who deserved it. Not males who wanted to keep her submissive.

‘I’m sorry that you had to go through that as a mortal. You should never have had to experience these things, Nes. I promise, as your mate and a bastard-born lesser fae, to always protect you. And I’ll never ask you to be nice again.’

‘Thank you.’

‘And to show you how nice I can be, read your book. I’ll cook.’

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #tomas mandray

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sjmgirlie · 1 month

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“Why would SJM make Elain and Lucien mates if they weren’t going to be together?”

Because she always knew she wanted to dive into either a 2 mate story or a rejected bond story.

Look at the characters chosen:

Lucien - loved Jesminda with everything he had. She had CHOSEN him, loved him for more than his title, made him feel like a real male. Then she was taken from him against his will. Killed in front of him, and he had to escape to not be killed as well. Can you imagine the pain of that?

Elain - all her life was told she was nothing but a beautiful face. Found love in Graysen, but had that ripped away from her like her mortality. Then was thrust upon some male that she had never met before, taking away another choice in her life.

Azriel - never received a mate, and loved Mor from afar for centuries. She had chosen his “brother” over him, but he still silently hoped something would happen. But again and again Mor chose others. Rhys saying that Azriel showed him it’s not the family you are born with but the family you CHOOSE that matters.

Is it a coincidence that the love triangle (ya, it’s literally a triangle. No more no less) all have experienced choices being taken from them? I think not.

SJM said she originally had Lucien and Nesta in her mind as mates, but then she changed it to Elain, and Cassian and Nesta became the couple. Why would she do that?

First, Nesta would have rejected the bond immediately. Like, literally right there in Hybern. She is not a polite character, and the story of the bond wouldn’t be able to be dragged on.

Second, in conjunction with the above, we needed the bond to still be in place for Lucien to come back with Feyre to Velaris. To give him a “role” in the court. To have HIM volunteer to find a firebird. It’s not a coincidence the spell cleavers son is the one to hunt for the cursed queen.

Third, Elain’s story (as well as Lucien’s as her mate) is about choice. Azriel’s part in the story is about being chosen. This is not a coincidence. If SJM wanted Elucien to happen, she wouldn’t have brought Azriel into their story. All of the build up romance moments would not have been between Azriel and Elain, rather than Elain and Lucien. Lucien isn’t even there for half the books?? Making an appearance which is uncomfortable and leaving.

The Elucien/Eriel story is one of choice. Will they chose to follow what the cauldron said? The cauldron that Azriel questioned for his feelings for Elain? The one we found out as readers is actually corrupt and was used to breed powerful offspring?

Think about it:

Rhys parents did not truly love each other - most powerful high lord born

Tamlins parents did not love each other - Tamlin is a powerful high lord

So the followed their bonds, were miserable, but at least made powerful offspring for the Asteri right?

What about mates who actually love each other?

Lucien’s parents might have been mates but they did love each other - he is powerful

Feyre and Rhys are mates but also love each other - Nyx is for sure powerful.

There is a very clear distinction between Elucien and Feysand and Nessian. Anyone who pretends there isn’t in failing to see the message.

THROUGH LOVE ALL IS POSSIBLE

THAT LOVE WOULD TRUMP A MATING BOND

WHAT IF THE CAULDRON WAS WRONG

THE POWER OF LOVE HELD TO PORTAL OPEN

THE ANSWER TO THE RIDDLE WAS LOVE

If Elucien was to be endgame, their would be moments and scenes in the books to show growth and love. There isn’t. Because they won’t be that story. They will be the story of the power of love conquering the mating bond. That they will decide TOGETHER to reject it. To find happiness where they want it. To care for each other enough to want that for each other.

THAT is the next story we will see.

The women who never got to chose, and the man never chosen.

And don’t worry about Lucien, he will get his happy ending. It’s an SJM book, everyone does.

#elain #eriel #pro eriel #elain x azriel

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velidewrites · 2 months

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Don’t Look Back

Five hundred years ago, the humans fought hard for their freedom in the Great War and won. Now, their former masters seek retribution in a rebellion that grows stronger year by year. When Elain Archeron finds out marrying Greysen Nolan might be the only solution to keep her family safe from the ancient, cruel Fae, she doesn't hesitate to fulfil her duty. What Elain doesn't know, though, is that the man with the fiery hair and russet eyes is not her fiancé, but his killer—and when she finally finds out, well…it will be far too late to turn back.

Chapter 4/15 || Read on AO3 || Go to Chapter 1 || beta'd by @ablogofsapphicpanic

Chapter 4: The Runaway

As much as she hated to agree with anything that came out of Lucien Vanserra’s mouth, Elain was angry. The rage burning in her cheeks felt hotter than the fire flickering at Eris’s fingertips, ready to reduce the tent and everyone inside it to ash as she seethed, “He is no betrothed of mine.”

“The feeling is quite mutual, I assure you,” Graysen—Lucien, she had to correct herself—told her.

“So let me go, then.”

Lucien didn’t even meet her gaze. “Ah,” he said, studying his nails—long and sharp now, Elain realised, so unlike the hands that held her at the ball last night. “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

Elain gritted her teeth. “Explain.”

“We’re many days from New Prythian, Lady Archeron,” Eris’s voice reached her. She’d nearly forgotten he was in the tent—him and Azriel, who now stood guarding the entrance, hazel eyes not leaving the scene for one second. “We’ve reached Braemar this morning, There’s no turning back.”

She peeled her gaze off of Lucien’s hand, his stupid, handsome face, and made herself look at Eris. “You seem like a man who loves to hear himself talk,” she said to him. “So talk.”

Lucien snorted.

Eris’s amber gaze cut to him instantly. “Something funny, little brother?”

Elain blinked. “Brother?”

Her question was ignored entirely. “There’s just something wonderfully satisfying about watching a human put you in your place,” Lucien crooned, a familiar smile returning onto his full lips.

If I may return the compliment…Your eyes are the most beautiful I have ever seen.

He’d spoken these words to her with that smile. It seemed like a lifetime ago now.

Whatever she had felt—whatever she thought she had felt before when she looked at Lucien was long gone now.

He was a liar—he was such a liar, and Elain had been nothing but a fool.

Clearly unaware of the turmoil whirring through her mind, Eris said, “One more word, and you’ll be leaving this camp on foot.” He turned to Elain. “Do you ride, Lady Archeron?”

Elain narrowed her eyes on him. “I am not going anywhere with you,” she spat. Then, like a flicker of light sparking in her head, she added, “You’re the Fae rebels the Huntsman has been after, aren’t you?”

They had to be—there were so very few of them left. And if Braemar was indeed where they’d taken her, the three males standing before her like predators circling their prey must’ve been the ones who had made Father give Nesta away to Hybern—and Elain to Rask.

As great as that went.

“Would you look at that, Eris,” Lucien purred, “Our reputation precedes us.”

“All the way to New Prythian, it seems,” Eris agreed, his expression sour. “Wretched place. I never enjoyed coming back here.” He grimaced. “Especially when it was known under another name.”

“You’ve been to our lands before,” Elain told him, the words not entirely a question.

Eris nodded. “I’ve had the displeasure,” he said. “Spring Court. Nothing but nasty beasts roaming everywhere. Terrible leadership.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Some things never change.”

Elain ignored the jab. “And you?” she asked, turning to Lucien.

“First time,” he shrugged, the hard muscles of his arms shifting with the movement. Damn him. “And while I certainly wish it could be my last, Princess, I’m afraid we’ve got some more work to do in New Prythian.”

“I hope by more work you mean returning me to the Manor, because I am not going a step further with the likes of you,” Elain seethed.

The corner of Lucien’s mouth quirked upwards. “The likes of us,” he hummed. “What could you possibly mean by that, little fawn?”

The bastard saw through her again.

So Elain finally asked, “Are you the Fae who killed my mother?”

It wasn’t difficult to put two and two together. These Fae had broken into Elain’s house like it was nothing—like they had been there before. And, since they were the only rebels who had dared to cross onto New Prythian, into her father’s territory…

Eris looked directly into her eyes as he said, “Yes.”

It was strange how one simple word had managed to knock her breath out of her chest—how it replaced all the air with that angry, sizzling fire, begging to be let out like a caged animal.

Elain choked through the feeling. “You did this?” She looked at Lucien. “Did you?” He said he hadn’t been to her lands before, but, in the less than twenty-four hours Elain had known him, he had not been truthful with her once. Why should she believe him?

Lucien met her stare calmly. “Would it change anything if I did?” he asked.

Elain would kill him, she decided right there and then. She didn’t care when, she didn’t care how—hell, she didn’t even care if it really was him who had done it. One way or another, Lucien Vanserra would pay for it—for all of it.

Perhaps she would hire a mercenary—or send an entire guard after him, if she ever managed to return home. Perhaps she would find the worst magical object in her father’s prized collection and use it to do it herself. An enchanted dagger, perhaps, shoved right through his neck.

So Elain told him, forcing that resolve into her trembling tone, “I want to know if the male who ruined my future is the same one who ruined my past.”

Lucien’s brows rose.

“It was me,” Eris said then, once again reminding Elain that perhaps Lucien was not the only male she had to swear to kill.

Her head whipped towards him. “How?” she questioned, jaw tensing as she made herself add, “There wasn’t any blood on her sheets when she was found.”

She had to know. Whatever they’d done to her, she’d repay it tenfold.

A rare thought crossed her mind that Nesta would have enjoyed the newfound bloodlust in Elain. Her sister had always harboured more vindictiveness inside her than Elain, which apparently was something Lucien Vanserra had a talent of bringing out of her. Perhaps she needed to get to Hybern, first—to alert Nesta and her allies, however terrifying they were, of the rebels who dared to kill their family.

If the promise was written on her face, Eris seemed to care for none of it. “Your mother died a lot quicker than she deserved,” he simply said, fixing the cuffs of his immaculate bronze jacket.

“Monsters,” Elain seethed. “You’re such monsters.”

A warning flame flickered in Lucien’s russet eyes. Beautiful, Elain had called them. She cursed herself for a fool once more.

“My brother is many things, Princess,” Lucien said slowly. “But a monster is not one of them.”

Eris’s gaze shot over to Lucien’s.

“And my sister?” Elain asked, dread building in her chest in anticipation of the answer. “What did you do to her?”

Eris’s attention returned to her. “We did not kill Feyre Archeron,” he told her. “Your mother was trouble enough.”

Her throat burned. “I hate you.”

Eris sighed. “I’m sure you do,” he nodded, as though she was nothing but a mere child and he was the one forced to pacify it. “That doesn’t change the fact that we need your help, Lady Archeron, and we will not release you until you give it to us.”

Elain shook her head. “You’re insane,” she told them both. “Insane. Why would I help the monsters,” she repeated, secretly enjoying the way Lucien’s nostrils flared at the word, “who had spent centuries trying to kill every last one of my kind? My own family?”

Lucien bristled, “Liars. Humans have always been such liars.”

Elain’s features were crafted of stone as she faced him again. “You have been lying to me from the moment we met,” she told Lucien. “I don’t ever want to speak to you again.”

A muscle jutted in Lucien’s jaw.

“If you don’t listen to my brother,” Eris interrupted, watching her closely, “Perhaps you could be convinced by an old friend.”

Elain did not have time to question any of them as the flaps of the tent opened, the pale sunlight pouring in through the gap. As a new figure appeared in the entrance and brushed past Azriel, her hair shining like red-hot, molten metal.

That face—Elain knew that face. Had remembered how it lit up in a smile the very last time she had seen it, six years ago before the messengers alerted the Manor of her death.

The Huntsman’s daughter, her death the very first time Elain understood just how cruel the Fae truly were, stopped right before Elain and smiled.

Alive.

Elain swallowed in disbelief. “Vassa?”

***

The camp had been packed up before Elain even got the chance to see it. She had simply been placed in a rather unimpressive, open wooden carriage when a black-haired female appeared in her tent and announced they were ready to depart.

You can save your heartfelt reunion for the journey, Eris had told her then. We need to keep moving.

“I don’t understand,” Elain now told Vassa, trying not to scowl through the pain in her rear as they made their way through the bumpy road. She had ignored Lucien, who was quickly proving a rather unfortunate company, and the smirk still playing on his lips from the first time she’d yelped out in surprise when the carriage went over a rock. “I thought you were dead.”

Vassa smiled lightly, “My father certainly likes to spread that story around,” she told her. “It helps his cause, if nothing else. Truth is, he’s never liked me very much.”

“Does he know you’re alive?” Elain asked.

“He’s heard rumours, I’m sure,” Vassa nodded. “It brings me comfort to know they keep him up at night,” she added, a smirk of her own now curling her mouth.

Elain’s brows knotted. “Your father is a good person, Vassa.” She didn’t the Huntsman all that well, yes, but he was the one who had been keeping the Fae like Lucien away from New Prythian for all those centuries. Mostly successfully.

Vassa gave her a look. “Come now, Elain,” she almost scolded. “We haven’t spent much time together in the past, but I’ve always thought you were smarter than this.” She looked out to the path ahead as she added, “They all want us to think of them as our saviours, but those of us who have broken free of their lies…we know the truth.”

Elain angled her head. “Which is?”

“You’ll find out soon,” was Vassa’s cryptic reply.

“Where is it you’re taking me, exactly?”

Lucien shifted in his seat, reminding her of his rather unwelcome presence. “That is none of your concern,” he said, crossing his arms over his muddy, white shirt. He’d gotten rid of the jacket he’d worn at the ball, his sleeves now rolled up to his elbows, exposing arms so well-built she had to wonder just how many ex-fiancés he had to kill to look that ridiculous.

“I was not speaking to you,” she rudely told him. Then, upon further consideration, “I hope you know this engagement is over,” she added.

Lucien rolled his eyes. “My poor, broken heart,” he mocked, then rested an arm on the wooden rim and returned to brooding in silence.

Good. Elain was quickly finding out she was less aggravated the longer he kept his mouth closed.

“And they tell us to be afraid of the Fae,” she told Vassa. “Are they all such idiots?”

She could have sworn she heard a quiet scoff coming somewhere from the front.

Vassa grinned, clearly hearing it, too. “Oh, yes.”

“I am still here, Vassa,” Lucien grumbled.

Fine. If he so badly wanted to be part of the conversation, she would indulge him. As vexing as Lucien Vanserra was, she could at the very least get some answers out of him. And at best…he could be more useful to her than she'd originally thought.

So she asked, “How did you kill him?” She clarified, in case he really did spend all his free time killing mortal men, “Greysen?”

Vassa turned to Lucien. “I don’t think she wants to hear—”

“I ripped his heart out,” Lucien told her as if he was describing no more than his breakfast. Then, “It was over before he even really felt it.”

Elain looked at Vassa. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Vassa’s eyes widened. “Should we stop the carriage?”

Elain nodded. “Plea—”

“We are not stopping the carriage,” Lucien cut in. “The Princess has heard of worse things in her life, Vassa,” he added, his gaze drifting back to Elain. “But that was a clever move, I’ll give you that. Too bad it didn’t work,” he shrugged, that shit-eating smirk returning onto his face.

“I hate you,” Elain told him truthfully, silently cursing all the gods for letting him ruin all her plans again. The open carriage would have been a lot harder to slip out of if it weren’t for his interrupting.

His smile only grew as he pointed out, “You didn’t seem to hate me at the ball.”

“And you didn’t seem to be such a—”

“Alright,” Vassa said, her voice rising over the rather unladylike nickname Elain had opted for. “Let’s all calm down, shall we? There really is no need to ruin a perfectly good carriage, especially when we’re going to need it for later.” A look at Elain. “I would appreciate it, though, if you didn’t try any more tricks on us, Elain. As difficult as this one is making it for me to prove, we do mean well.”

“Don’t forget who her father is,” Lucien added, his tone betraying nothing but mockery. “She may not understand the meaning of the word.”

“You didn’t even know him,” Elain spat.

“I didn’t have to,” Lucien said. “The fact that he married someone like your mother, of all the monsters on this earth, is telling enough.”

“Oh, you mean the woman you murdered?”

Vassa sighed deeply. “There are many things you don’t know, Elain,” she told her. “Everything will be explained once we reach the—” Lucien cleared his throat, and Vassa rolled her eyes once more. “Once we reach our destination,” she said instead, and Elain cursed them both for yet another lie they were feeding her.

“Why should I believe anything he says?” she asked. “Anything you all say? You kidnapped me from my own home, killed my fiancé, and are now taking me Gods know where in hopes of…what? That I’ll help you?” She almost laughed. “Give me one good reason, Vassa,” she told her. “Give me one reason why I should listen.”

“You don’t exactly have any other choice,” Lucien muttered from the front of the carriage.

“Shut up, Lucien,” Vassa told him. “Look. I know this is…difficult to understand,” she started, and the pity in her eyes was enough to make Elain seethe all over again.

“Don’t patronise me,” she accused.

“I’m not,” Vassa pressed. “I was you, once. Did you know why my father sent me to the Wildlands all those years ago?” She scoffed, more to herself now than Elain as she added, “I was getting out of control. His control, of course, and he was not happy with it. He didn’t like seeing my power grow—didn’t like seeing how his court rallied around me, how every hunt I returned from was more successful than the last. His hold over Braemar was slipping right into my hand.” Something like sadness took hold of her freckled features, and the air around them seemed to thicken. Even Lucien’s attention drifted back towards them as Vassa said, “But, at that time, my hand was his own. I was his daughter. Everything I did—all of it—had been to gain his favour. I killed and slaughtered because I thought that, with enough bloodshed spilled in his name, he would eventually claim me as his heir. Hell, claiming me as his child would have probably been enough for me.” Cerulean eyes met Elain’s own. “But all my father saw was a threat. So I became exactly that.”

Vassa continued, “When he sent me to the North under some pathetic excuse of protection from the Fae rebels marching on Braemar, I knew it was to get rid of me. I begged and I pleaded for him to let me stay—to let me fight by his side, to avenge our ancestors and kill the masters threatening our family again. All this time, I had no idea it was us, the humans, living in their ancestral home. That it was my family who had taken that home from the ones who had once been our allies.”

“But my father didn’t let me stay—he forced me onto my horse and, with a legion of twelve sentries who I knew were really my executioners, sent me to the border. The fact that he thought twelve men could hold me down…” A sly smile curled the corner of her mouth. “Then again, my father had always underestimated me.”

Elain swallowed.

“They attacked the moment we stepped into the Guardian’s lands,” Vassa went on, “But the border was empty. He was likely in on it, too. No one in their right mind ever wants to get on the Harvester’s bad side. So when the first of the sentries swung his sword at my neck, there wasn’t a single soul in those woods to help me.”

“Please,” Lucien said, a smile of his own now tugging at his lips. “It’s not like you needed any help.”

Vassa offered him a grin—then turned to Elain, her next words preventing her from analysing how in the hell the Huntsman’s own daughter befriended someone like Lucien Vanserra as she added, “When Eris found me, my hair was sticky with blood and my fingers half-frozen from the snow.” Elain shuddered. “But I survived. The fire he’d cast brought me back from the cold death I was succumbing too. I knew who he was right away—I recognised the magic still haunting the halls of the home I was exiled from.” She shook her head, her curls grazing her collarbone slightly. “He knew who I was, too, and what my family had done to his own. I was dying, defenceless and his enemy. But Eris did not kill me,” she said, “He helped me up.”

“He told me the truth—about everything. Had proven it, too, because as much as I hated my father, I still believed the lies he’d been telling me my entire life. You all showed me another way,” she said to Lucien, a small smile lighting up her face before she turned back to Elain. “I’ve been by their side ever since.”

“And we owe you a lifetime’s debt for it,” Lucien said.

Vassa tilted her head slightly. “There are no debts among friends, Lucien.”

“All this to say,” she said to Elain, “I know why you hate them—why you probably hate me right now, too. But I’ve seen true monsters, Elain, and they don’t look like the males who have stolen you from New Prythian.” That sadness returned to her stare as she told her, “They look like the man whose eyes you see in the mirror every morning.”

Elain studied her face. “And I suppose Eris will show me the truth,” she said slowly—then turned to Lucien. “He is your brother,” she added, remembering the familial term Eris had called him back in the tent.

“He is,” Lucien agreed.

“Older?”

Vassa snorted.

Lucien’s eyes narrowed. “You wound me, little fawn.”

“Stop calling me that,” Elain told him.

“As you wish, Princess.”

“Gods, I don’t know which is worse,” Elain grimaced. She continued, though, curiosity getting the better of her, “Eris called you the seventh son of the Autumn Court—the old Braemar,” she clarified. “Would that not make him…” she hesitated, not entirely sure whether the words she’d learned from her old history books were truly a spell of some sorts—a spell that would bring them back to life.

Lucien hummed. “Are you afraid, Elain?”

If she admitted it, he would probably call her something infuriating like little fawn again. So she told him, “No.”

Lucien smiled knowingly. “Then ask me the question.”

Elain pushed through the words. “Is Eris the High Lord of the Autumn Court?”

“Yes,” Lucien simply told her. “He is.”

Elain’s shoulders tensed.

“If it helps, it was a shock to me, too,” Vassa chimed in.

“I thought the High Lords were all dead,” Elain said, hating the quiet hollowness invading her tone.

“He is the last one, as far as we’re aware,” Lucien explained matter-of-factly. “But he doesn’t wish to be addressed as such—not while the humans are still living in our home.” He added, “Our father was killed shortly after the War, and the rest of our brothers followed shortly after. The ancient magic became Eris’s, and he became the High Lord.” A shadow passed through his handsome features. “A High Lord without land, without subjects, without family. As the humans took over, our magic dwindled, too. The things we were once able to do are now all but a distinct memory. Eris will not call himself High Lord until that magic—until everything—is returned to us.”

He looked at Elain. “That is why you’re here, little fawn,” he crooned. “You’re going to help us get it back.”

The carriage halted with the words—and Elain realised the rocky path had finally ended. They had somehow ended up in the middle of a forest, so golden and bright she had to squint before she took it all in—before she noticed the leaves, gleaming with health and all the shades of auburn and red, the wooden pillars forming a circle around the clearing stretching right before them.

A dozen balls of fire cackled to life atop the pillars, prompted by a magic so ancient Elain could practically taste it on her tongue.

“Welcome,” Lucien’s voice sounded behind her, rich and deep, as if brought to life by this strange place, too. “To the Vanserra Hold.”

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

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nikethestatue · 20 days

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This is not a question. I just think it’s funny when the Elriels point out that Elain isn’t interested in Lucien through literal scenes, we are the ones who are told that we are “delusional” and “crazy”. We have been saying that for the longest, just so Azriel can confirm it in his own bonus chapter. He says something along the lines of Lucien will never be good enough for Elain, and that Elain isn’t interested in Lucien. It seems as though SJM was confirming what elriels were already saying. She been confirmed that really. SJM has had two whole books to make Elain interested in Lucien. she hasn’t done it yet.

Yes, this is peak romantic interest:

Elain, at least, would be too polite to send Lucien away when he wanted to help. She was too polite to send him away on a normal day. She just ignored him or barely spoke to him until he got the hint and left. As far as I knew, he hadn’t come within touching distance since the aftermath of that final battle. No, she tended to her gardens here, silently mourning her lost human life. Mourning Graysen. How Lucien withstood it, I didn’t know. Not that he’d shown any interest in bridging that gap between them.

From both of them. Totally. Pining and secret adoration.

No, there are no secret trysts--which has been confirmed by Azriel too. And no, Lucien isn't going insane with need and desire. He also doesn't care.

Eluciens needs to face reality. That's it.

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xtaketwox · 3 months

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Summary: Everyone is born with an arrow on their hand that points toward their soulmate on their eighteenth birthday. When Lucien comes to find Elain after the arrow on her hand led Graysen to dump her on her birthday, she tells him to leave and not contact her again. Nine years later, their paths cross once more and Lucien makes it his mission to woo Elain.

Fic Rating: Explicit

Warnings: None

Chapter Length: 4739 words

Masterlist; Read on AO3

Chapter 3

Lucien watched Elain drive away and loosed a breath, his shoulders relaxing as her taillights faded away.

He couldn’t believe he got her to agree to a coffee date. Elain had spent the entire wedding and reception avoiding him. He had been certain she would say no, and couldn’t help but wonder what had changed her mind.

Maybe it wasn’t him specifically she didn’t want, as he assumed. Maybe she didn’t want anyone. Or perhaps it was an Archeron thing. Feyre had resisted Rhys when she first discovered they were soulmates, and Lucien had heard of Cassian’s own decade-long battle with Nesta.

In hindsight, asking for a dance had been a terrible idea anyway, and he was relieved she had declined. As it was, he barely felt in control of himself around Elain, and she was clearly still uncomfortable with their soulmate bond. Lucien opened the car door and sat without turning the car on, contemplating the enigma that was Elain and her hold on him even after a decade without contact.

To put it simply, she took his breath away. Perhaps it was the soulmate bond, though he doubted it. She was beautiful—he’d have to be blind not to notice—but there was more to her beauty than just her physical appearance. It was as if her general aura heightened her already gorgeous features.

It wasn’t as if he’d never been attracted to another woman, although it had been a decade now since he’d been interested in someone else. He had eyes, so he could appreciate a beautiful woman when he saw one, but it was a bit like observing art in a museum rather than attraction. He supposed the downside to having a soulmate bond was the way in which it robbed you of the desire to be with anyone else if your soulmate refused to be with you. Some people did date outside their soulmates, but it was incredibly rare. Most people simply had no attraction for anyone else, and he’d be lying if he said didn’t wish he could be one of the people who could. He didn’t enjoy the idea of being alone for the rest of his life.

Getting coffee with Elain on Monday felt like a double-edged sword. On the one hand, it gave Lucien some hope, but on the other hand, that hope could just as easily turn to ash if Elain continued to reject him. He wondered idly if she had only agreed to coffee because she knew he’d be gone again in a few weeks.

He had to admit, his job taking him out of the country for most of the year had been one of the reasons he had sought the job in the first place. He was good with people, good with negotiations, so he was a good ambassador. One of the best, given he had obtained one of the highly sought after countries after only a few years. The job kept him busy, but most importantly kept him from seeking out Elain.

He had agreed to give her her space until she came to him, had wanted to honor her request, but it hadn’t been easy. He wondered how Cassian had managed a decade of Nesta Archeron pushing him away. He didn’t know the specifics, but he wasn’t certain he could have done the same. He wasn’t that masochistic, nor did he desire to push himself on Elain. If she didn’t want to be with him, then he would respect that.

Lucien blew out a breath and started the car, pulling out and heading back to the Night mansion. Helion’s home was a short walk away, and Lucien had planned to stay there that evening before returning to his apartment the following day.

After dropping the car off, he started walking, his hands stuffed in his pockets against the bite of chill in the air, replaying his conversations with Elain, his heart thumping oddly in his chest as he did so. He was surprised to find his mother still awake when he came through the door. She was holding a steaming cup of tea and sitting on a settee near the fireplace in the room off the entrance. Lucien walked over and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“How was the wedding?” she asked as he stood in front of the fireplace, warming his hands.

“It was what you’d expect from Rhys and his father.” He looked back. “Small but expensive.”

His mother chuckled as she sipped her tea. “That sounds about right. Did you enjoy yourself?”

He nodded, taking a deep breath before adding, “Elain was there.”

There was a beat of silence before his mother asked, “Did you speak with her?”

He nodded, staring at the flames of the fireplace. “I drove her back to the chapel to get her car and we’re meeting for coffee on Monday.”

“That’s wonderful.”

Lucien turned at the words, his mother’s tone betraying her worry, and sighed. “You don’t have to worry, mother. I’m not expecting anything to come of it. It’s just coffee.”

His mother set down her cup and stood, her ruby red hair—the hair he had inherited from her—glinting in the firelight as she crossed to him and put a hand on his cheek. “But you should expect something to come of it. She is your soulmate after all. It’s only natural to want her to return your affections.”

He frowned to cover the way her words pierced his heart. “I don’t have affections for her. I hardly know her. The only other time we’ve spoken has been that first day over nine years ago.”

His mother gave him a look that said she knew better and patted his cheek affectionately before picking up her teacup and heading to the door. “I’m just saying that it’s only natural for you to want to see your soulmate.” She paused, a hand on the doorframe and looked back. “Be careful, my love. I don’t want you to end up hurt.”

It was on the tip of Lucien’s tongue to deny the possibility, but he knew she would only give him another knowing look. He had been unable to hide his devastation from her at Elain’s first rejection. She had no reason to believe this time would be any different, and truth be told, he wasn’t sure it was any different.

He shook his head as she left. Leave it to his mother to make him feel like a teenager instead of a grown man. She had an uncanny way of doing that. He headed out the door and up the staircase to the room Helion had given him. Rooms, really. Beron had had six other sons, and regardless of the fact the house was still a mansion, by the time Lucien had arrived, all the best rooms had been taken. Helion had given him the biggest suite of rooms outside of the one he shared with Lucien’s mother. He had practically an entire wing to himself.

The suite had a sitting room that was bigger than some apartments, two separate bedrooms on either side, each with their own ensuite bathroom, and even a powder room for guests, should he have them. He had told Helion it was too much, but Helion had insisted. He supposed Helion felt guilty for not being there for him when he was younger, so he had decided it wasn’t worth the argument, especially given he was hardly ever in the country anyway.

Lucien walked into the bedroom to the right, the one he had decided would be his the first time he had stayed, and into the bathroom, shedding his clothes as he went. He preferred showering at night, to wash the day away. Helion had supplied Lucien with a full set of tailored clothes and a dresser full of pajamas, claiming it would be easier if Lucien didn’t have to lug clothes over every time he came to stay. Lucien hadn’t bothered to argue over that either, despite the whole thing making him uncomfortable.

It was clear Helion wished to make up for the years that he hadn’t been aware that Lucien was his son, no matter how many times Lucien told him it wasn’t necessary. Some part of Lucien lamented the fact that he had grown up with Beron’s abuse instead of Helion’s abundance, but he was also an adult and he didn’t really need a father at this point. He had learned to live without one a long time ago.

Still, Lucien could understand why Helion went to such lengths and decided he would just let him. He could take the discomfort if only because Helion made his mother so happy.

Once showered, his hair toweled dry, he dropped into bed, not bothering with clothes. He knew he’d be dealing with a rat’s nest in the morning sleeping on wet hair, but didn’t care. He’d just braid it.

He turned onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. He was going to see Elain again. He took a deep breath and held it against the rising tide of anxiety and excitement. He reminded himself yet again that a coffee date didn’t mean anything. He couldn’t allow himself to hope that it would lead to anything more. He should be happy that she had agreed to coffee and leave it to that.

But Lucien couldn’t stop the hope that swelled in the dark. Maybe this time he should fight for her instead of letting her slip away from him. He wondered yet again why exactly she had avoided him for so long. Did she find him abhorrent? Confidence in his appearance wasn’t an issue, enough women gave him appreciative looks for him not to think Elain found him unattractive. Elain had given him an appreciative look at the wedding, though he wasn’t sure if she had realized the way she looked at him.

Perhaps she didn’t want to be attached to anyone, not just him. The soulmate bond didn’t exactly care if you wanted a romantic partner. No one knew why the bonds happened, only that they did and that usually the couples were compatible. Perhaps Elain preferred to work in her flower shop and leave love to other people.

Lucien threw an arm over his eyes. Sleep was going to be impossible when his thoughts were full of Elain. Had she even realized what she did to him this evening? Watching her dance with Azriel had been a special kind of torture, even though he himself had danced with Morrigan. Mor, however, had just about as much interest in him as he had in her, so it had been much like dancing with his own cousin. Azriel was hard to read, but how could he not have wanted Elain?

How could anyone not want Elain, especially in that dress, the way it had hugged her curves, the front dipping low enough to reveal the swell of her breasts. It hadn’t been skin tight the way Mor’s dress had been, but it had been tight enough to make him shift in his seat the moment he saw her.

He rubbed his eyes, frustration like a stone on his chest. He needed to get a grip on himself before coffee with Elain or he might say or do something to scare her away. He was usually good at reading people; he had to be good at reading people to be good at his job. But Elain was difficult for him to read. He supposed it could be because he was too close to the situation, too emotionally involved in the outcome to assess things the way he might usually do. Or perhaps the Mother had chosen to give him a soulmate who would challenge him.

He had to admit that not being able to easily read Elain did keep things interesting, if not equally frustrating. If he succeeded in getting her to agree to a relationship, he would certainly be counting it as a hard-won victory.

Sighing again, he turned onto his side and shut off the bedside lamp, hoping he could get to sleep soon.

~~~~~~~~

Elain pulled down the mirror in her car to check her appearance again, stalling from having to get out of the car and walk into the coffee shop. She had typed out and then deleted a message canceling coffee more than once between Friday evening and today, but something always stopped her from pushing send.

She glanced at the clock. She was already five minutes late and she hated not being punctual, so she flipped her mirror back up, pulled on her gloves, grabbed her purse, and exited her car. She could do this. It was just coffee. It’s not like they were going on an actual date.

Elain pulled open the door to the coffee shop, her eyes drawn like a magnet to the flash of red hair. Her heart did a funny little skip as Lucien smiled at her and walked over. He looked relieved, and she wondered if he thought she wouldn’t show. She couldn’t help but notice how good he looked. His clothes looked tailored and expensive.

“Hello.”

“Hi.” Elain winced at how breathless she sounded and cleared her throat. She turned toward the line before she could see Lucien’s response to her breathless response, fiddling with the edge of her gloves as she tried to calm her racing heart. She hoped he didn’t read anything into it.

After they procured their coffees in silence, Lucien led them over to a table set back in a quiet corner. It was by the window with a ficus next to it. She had never been to this particular place before and looked around as Lucien sat across from her. The space wasn’t very large, which she enjoyed as it meant it was quieter than other cafes she’d been to. The atmosphere was very calm and friendly, which she appreciated. She took a sip of her coffee and hummed in appreciation.

“This is delicious,” she said, peering into her mug—another thing she enjoyed, real mugs.

Lucien took a sip of his own coffee and nodded. “It’s one of my favorite places to get coffee when I’m in town.”

Elain took another sip and then made herself set her cup down. She didn’t want to finish the coffee too quickly. She needed it to help fill any awkward moments. “How did you find it?” she asked, glancing up from her mug.

He shrugged. “I’ve been coming here for so long, I’m not even sure. The owners are great, if you ever have a chance to meet them. The very definition of Mom and Pop coffee shop owners.”

“Oh?” The conversation was hardly intriguing but at least they were conversing.

Lucien nodded, wrapping his hands around his mug. “Yeah. I met them several years back and now they make a point of saying hi anytime I come in when they’re here.”

Elain looked toward the counter. “Are they here today?”

Lucien shook his head. “I got here about fifteen minutes early and haven’t seen them.”

Elain bit her lip. “Sorry I was a little late.”

Lucien blinked. “Were you late?”

“I was about five minutes late.”

A corner of his mouth tipped up. “That’s hardly worth apologizing for.”

Elain straightened, raising her chin even as she felt her cheeks turning red. “Five minutes is still late.”

Lucien lifted his cup. “In that case, I accept your apology.”

“Good.”

They lapsed into silence and Elain looked down at her coffee, tapping her finger on the side of the cup as she tried to think of something, anything to talk about. She hated awkward silences and prided herself in being able to dispel them, but it was as if her mind had completely emptied of all thought around Lucien.

“How was the flower shop this weekend?”

Elain exhaled, grateful that at least one of them had come up with something to say. “It was good.” She paused and then added, “I had a lot of orders so I was pretty busy.”

Lucien nodded and then took another sip of his coffee as they both lapsed back into silence.

This was awful. Just awful. Why couldn’t she think of anything to say? Conversation was her specialty.

Lucien eyed her, then took a deep breath and said, “You wouldn’t happen to know why it’s so hard to hold a conversation would you?”

Elain laughed as relief flooded through her. “No, but this is horrible.”

Lucien’s eyes sparkled as he nodded, taking a sip from his mug. “The worst conversation I’ve had in a long time.”

“The very worst.” Elain straightened and then said primly, “It must be you. I am normally a wonderful conversationalist.”

Lucien’s mouth quirked up. “I don’t think so. I literally have conversations for a living, so clearly I’m an expert.”

Elain hummed. “I can’t believe you still have a job, because your conversation skills are sorely lacking. Clearly.”

Lucien’s eyebrows rose. “Yes, clearly I would be the one at fault here.”

“I’m glad we’re in agreement.”

Lucien snorted into his coffee, but his eyes were lit with amusement. “So tell me, wonderful conversationalist, what should we do to fix this problem?”

Elain chewed her lip as she thought. “Well, we could take turns stating facts about ourselves?”

“Like two truths and a lie?”

Elain rolled her eyes. “We’re not in high school.” Lucien chuckled at that. “Just a fact. If the other person has any followup questions, then we can answer those and keep the conversation rolling.”

Lucien nodded. “Sounds like a plan. Who wants to go first?”

Elain took a deep breath. “I can go.”

He gestured for her to continue, and she chewed her lip as she tried to think of a fact to share. She had so few life experiences that seemed worth sharing, and as for sharing her feelings on things that really mattered, she wasn’t sure she was ready to do that. Eventually she went with, “Gardening is my favorite hobby.”

Lucien raised his eyebrows, but didn’t comment that her fact was something he likely already suspected, given she owned a flower shop. “What do you like about gardening?”

Elain took a sip of her coffee and stared at the ficus behind Lucien’s head as she thought. “I enjoy the sunshine, the way you can nurture a seed into something beautiful, like a flower, or into something you can use to feed your family. Sometimes I like to imagine how gratifying it would have been to be able to feed your entire family from the produce you grew yourself. Imagine never having a grocery store to go to, only relying on the gods favor with the weather and your own two hands. I can’t imagine living in that world, but when I have my hands in the dirt, when I pluck weeds, when I prune branches, I feel the most at home, the most like myself.”

She looked back to Lucien who was watching her with his lips parted. Her face heated as she realized she had been rambling. “Sorry. That was probably more than you were looking for.”

Lucien shook his head, looking slightly dazed. “No. That was exactly what I was looking for.” He dipped his head. “Thank you for telling me.”

Elain cleared her throat and nodded to him. “Your turn.”

Lucien looked to the ceiling for a moment before saying, “I’m still not used to being the sole heir for Helion and sometimes feel like I’m living someone else’s life.”

Elain blinked, surprised he had shared something so personal. “Why does it feel like someone else’s life?” she asked quietly.

He lifted a shoulder, likely trying to look nonchalant, but only succeeding in looking vulnerable. “I was the youngest of seven children. I always got whatever was left after everyone else took. I had the smallest bedroom, I opened presents last on Solstice, you get the idea. I’m an adult, so it’s not like I need anything from Helion, but it is a lot to suddenly be getting first pick. My room at Helion’s mansion is an entire suite of rooms that are bigger than the average apartment.”

Elain’s heart hurt at the thought that Lucien had ever felt less than deserving, and felt something like shame wind its way through her mind at the realization that she had inadvertently done the same thing to him. “I’m sorry you ever felt that way.” She nearly apologized for what she had said nine years ago, but stopped herself before she could. She wasn’t sure that she was sorry and the last thing she wanted was for him to think she was only apologizing out of pity.

Lucien shrugged again. “It’s ok. I’m just happy my mother’s happy.”

“Do you ever see your brothers?” Elain asked, hoping she wasn’t prying.

“Not often. They never really liked me when we were growing up, and now I know it’s because they were all aware I wasn’t Beron’s son. I was the last one to know.” He took a deep breath. “Eris has reached out a couple times, but he and I are too different to ever be close. As for the others, I think they’re just happy they won’t have to share the inheritance with me, although I doubt Beron ever planned to leave me anything anyway.” He cleared his throat. “I believe it’s your turn.”

Discussion closed. Elain nodded. “Um…” Perhaps since Lucien had given such personal details, she could reciprocate. Taking a deep breath she said, “My mother didn’t like me.”

Lucien blinked several times. “What do you mean?”

Elain gripped the coffee mug as the pain of what she had known since she was little waffled through her. “She never said it to my face, of course, but it was the little things. She used to say things like my beauty was my best feature, or that it was a good thing that I was pretty because I wasn’t smart.”

Lucien’s eyes widened, and then shock turned to burning anger. “That’s a horrible thing to say to anyone, let alone your own child.”

Elain nodded, but looked down at her coffee, unable to stop the embarrassment that came with admitting her mother thought she was just a pretty airhead.

After several minutes of tense silence, during which she cursed herself for revealing something so personal, Lucien said, “For what it’s worth, Elain, I have always known you’re worth more than your looks.”

Elain’s head snapped up, finding Lucien gripping his mug in a white-knuckled grip as he stared fiercely at her. “You don’t know anything about me,” she countered.

He held her gaze and she felt ensnared by the rage in his eyes—rage on her behalf. “You were fierce the first time we met. I could see the fire in you, and listening to you just now describe why you like gardening, are you kidding me? You are more passionate, more thoughtful about gardening than most people are about anything, and that passion is worth something. If people want to boil you down to your looks, that’s their problem, but believe me when I say this Elain, while I would be a fool to claim that your beauty means nothing to me, it is the last on what is turning into a long list of reasons why I want to get to know you better.”

Elain knew her eyes were wide, her lips parted as she sucked in a shaky breath at Lucien’s heated proclamation. “I—”

She didn’t know what to say. Her heart was beating so fast that she was starting to feel faint and she couldn’t seem to get a grip on what emotions she was feeling. They were flying by too quickly for her to grasp on to any of them. Embarrassment, joy, and panic seemed to be the strongest out of all the emotions however.

Lucien reached forward like he wanted to grab her hand, but then pulled it back. “I’m sorry if I came on too strong. I just…I guess I’m a little sensitive when it comes to parents treating their children poorly.”

Elain swallowed, latching on to the lifeline Lucien was giving her. “Because of Beron?”

He nodded, his knuckles going white on his mug. “Because of Beron.”

She wanted to know more, but knew it would be rude to ask, so instead she said quietly, shoving down her emotions to be examined at a later time, “Your turn.”

Lucien nodded. “Ok. Let’s see.”

Elain took the moment he was thinking to shove the last of her emotions down, to compose herself.

“I just barely had a GPA high enough to graduate college.”

“How on earth? You seem intelligent.”

Lucien outright laughed and Elain bit her lip against her own smile at the amusement on his face. Lucien should laugh more often.

“It wasn’t because I’m not intelligent, but it was because I am stupid. I spent too much of my time partying in the first couple semesters, happy to be out of Beron’s house I guess, and nearly flunked out. I think it might have been Beron’s donation money that kept them from kicking me, to be honest. After that, I stopped fucking around and picked a major. But it’s much more difficult to raise a GPA than it is to tank it.”

Elain sipped her coffee. “I’m surprised Beron did anything to help.”

Lucien snorted. “Believe me, it was only to save himself from embarrassment.”

“So you went from barely graduating to being an ambassador before you turned thirty?”

“I guess technically. I was twenty-nine, so that’s close enough to thirty right?”

Elain narrowed her eyes playfully. “Is nepotism to blame?”

Lucien frowned and Elain suspected she just hit a touchy subject. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—” she sighed. “I’m sorry.”

He looked away. “You’re not wrong, but it’s also not entirely accurate. By the time I graduated, Helion and my mother were already married. It was Helion that got me that first job, but I was the one who earned the position of ambassador by working my ass off.”

Elain took in his tight shoulders and white knuckles and felt an immediate swell of regret. “Of course you did. I’m sorry I implied otherwise.” She looked out the window. “I suppose I’m just not used to your world and made a tactless joke.”

Lucien was silent for several long moments before saying, “My world?”

Elain looked back at him to find his eyebrows raised. She gestured vaguely. “Yes well…You know. I didn’t grow up with wealth. I don’t really understand what it’s like, I suppose.”

Lucien considered her for another moment. “Does the fact that I grew up wealthy bother you?”

Elain blinked at him as she considered the question. She certainly had spent half her life struggling to make ends meet, had missed out on the usual things such as attending college, had only been able to own her business because her former bosses liked her and allowed her to pay them directly rather than go through a bank. Her business was a little bit like rent-to-own in that regard. Her mother had died when she was little, her father withered away to a shell of his former self and had died a scant two years prior, and she and Feyre had each been working since they were fourteen. Perhaps, she did have some resentment for people who didn’t have to struggle the way that she had struggled.

She looked back at him. “I suppose it does, but I think I’ve earned the right.”

Lucien didn’t seem offended, which she supposed was a good thing, but then he frowned. “What do you mean, you’ve earned the right?”

Elain looked away. “I’d rather not get into the details, but while you were partying in college on Beron’s dime and good graces, I was going to high school and working as many hours as I legally could to make ends meet.”

They lapsed into silence, Lucien clearly at a loss for how to respond. Eventually, Elain drained the rest of her coffee and then stood, feeling a bit foolish and vulnerable for what she had shared.

“Thank you for the coffee, but I should get going.”

Lucien didn’t respond other than to nod at her before she turned and walked away.

#elucien #elain x lucien #elucien fanfiction #elucien fic #elucien fanfic #elain archeron #lucien vanserra

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gwynsdefenseattorney · 4 months

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Big shoutout to @acourtdelaluna for pointing this out the other day. I sometimes miss little things because I’m focusing on the bigger things and I did miss this completely. To be fair to myself though it’s only been recently that I’ve gotten out of my I hate Elain hole. It took me a hot minute to realize I didn’t hate the actual character that Sarah wrote, just the one the e/riels are trying to make her be, and of course their behavior turned me right off of Elain. So it’s a process realizing all the little things I missed. 😬😆

Let’s discuss all this gifting, and who got gifts returned and who didn’t. 😈

And again…I don’t care who yall ship, have fun. Don’t twist Sarah’s words and try and make something canon that’s not. Oh and I’m done entertaining e/riels under burner accounts in my DMs.

Gift #1: Elain’s engagement ring from Graysen. (Engagement rings are classified as gifts, google it and get over it)

Gifts #2 & 3: Elain’s gardening gloves and pearl earrings from Lucien

Gift #4: The necklace from Azriel

When we see Elain again in ACOMAF she’s engaged to be married. Her and Graysen at that point have known each other less than a year or just at a year. She’s very much in love with him and fixing to be married. Then we have the events of ACOWAR when they finally see each other again after she’s turned. He demands the ring back, tells her he doesn’t want her anymore, and that he will not marry her. Elain refuses to give the ring back. With this man to her face saying he doesn’t want her she’s still refuses to give it the ring. And as far as we knew she still has it. I’m hoping for a full circle moment in her book where she sends it back to him with a note that just says goodbye.

Lucien’s gifts, we only see them when Elain opens them and it’s safe to assume that she still has them. Nowhere does it mention they were discarded or returned to him. So I believe she’s still got them tucked away somewhere.

And that leaves us with the necklace. The one gift she returned after Azriel one time says what they are doing is a mistake in ACOSF. E/riels claim at this point Az and Elain are so in love and desperate for one another but at the first utter of rejection from a male she’s been having the romantic feels for, for almost 2 years she gives that necklace back in less the 12 hours.

But she’s kept the gifts from the male she, according to e/riels, hates and doesn’t want anything to do with, and has kept the engagement ring of the man who hates, and doesn’t want anything to do with her. Like come on, I don’t know how Sarah can write this anymore clearer for them. Elain has made her choice. And it is not Azriel.

BONUS TIME 😆

I didn’t actually think I’d have a bonus note but I found this little gem looking up the Solstice scenes so here we be. ☺️

According to e/riels by the time ACOFAS comes along Azriel has shifted his focus to Elain and is over Mor. Really? Are yall sure of that? Like confident 100%? Or yall just ignoring canon some more to fit yalls narrative cause…..

…..this looks to me like Azriel is still full on in his Mor era in ACOFAS. 🤭 But sure let’s focus on some potato steam. 😆

#azriel #anti e/riel #gwynriel #pro gwynriel #azriel shadowsinger #gwyn x azriel #elain archeron #pro elucien #elain x lucien #elucien #lucien vanserra

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lorcandidlucienwill · 2 months

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That Solstice scene :(((

@zenkindoflove I'm sorry for this one... @achaotichuman will probably love it though. Lucien closed his eyes shut, trying to shut down all the feeling in his body, his mind. But he felt everything, as if someone were poking him with hot iron rods. He writhed in his bed, trying to control the urges his body were feeding him. His hands clutched the covers, his teeth gritted with the effort to stay in bed. It took every bit of willpower he'd ever had in his life to resist the urge to storm into that hall and rip Azriel to shreds. He knew he would win. He knew Azriel was terrified of fire, and his mated rage would do the rest. But he wouldn't do it. He wouldn't hurt him, even though his body screamed bloody murder. He would endure, as he'd endured every time he'd come across that slimy worm Graysen in the human lands. He'd swallow his screams because he was a gentleman. But sometimes he was so tired of being the nice guy. Sometimes, he longed to do something crazy and rip people to shreds, like he had done that day in Hybern when he'd rushed to see if Elain was ok. But his crazy had only done him a disservice with Amarantha. His eye. The stinging crack of the whip as Tamlin was forced to hurt him. And as he sensed her arousal, he couldn't control the low growl that slipped from his lips. He was going to feel it; every moment of her fucking that Illyrian brute, and he'd have to stay silent because he knew she needed space, not an overbearing mate snapping at her not to do whatever she pleases... He entertained himself by imagining himself destroying Azriel, tearing his throat out with his teeth. His entire body heated up, and got up, realizing he'd burned his sheets to cinders. He couldn't endure this. He had to winnow away before he folded to his instincts and ripped Azriel's heart straight out of his chest. But then... He felt Elain's hurt and embarrassment, heard the murmured conversation and realized something had stopped them. Not something-someone. Lucien gripped his face so hard that it was miracle his skin didn't peel off. He'd wanted to kill Azriel for daring to touch Elain, and now he wanted to kill him even more for daring to hurt Elain's feelings without apologizing. He slipped out of his room, following the scent of the shadowsinger. Lucien's anger faded slightly, replaced by surprise at Rhysand scolding Azriel. Rhysand had always seemed as if he barely tolerated him, but perhaps this...meant he was warming up to him. "You believe you deserve to be her mate?" "I think Lucien will never be good enough for her, and she has no interest in him, anyway." Lucien laughed under his breath. He always knew that Azriel disliked him, but this was downright pathetic. Lucien had nothing and no one. He had a mate who avoided him at all costs, and even that Azriel wished to take from him. News flash, Azriel: Lucien might not be good enough for her, but neither was he. "I'll defeat him with little effort." Good lord, did he truly believe that? Did he forget that he fears fire? Did he forget the strength of a mated male's rage? Did he forget what Lucien had survived? "So you will leave Elain alone. If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, but stay away from her." Lucien bared his teeth in a feral smile, some savage part of him quelled thanks to Rhysand's interference. And that line...Lucien couldn't have said it better himself. How dare he treat Elain like a prostitute? No one understood the pain Lucien was in better than Rhysand himself. Perhaps, at last, he was beginning to sway the members of the Night Court to not treat him like dog shit. He tried not to think about Elain, resisting the urge to rush to Elain and make sure she's ok, to embrace her and kiss her troubles away. He'd endure this, just as he'd endured Beron, as he'd endured Amarantha, as he'd endured Tamlin, as he'd endured Ianthe, as he'd endured the Inner Circle.

#anti e/riel #anti azriel #lucien vanserra #pro lucien vanserra #elucien #pro elucien #angst #fanfic

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labellefleur-sauvage · 9 months

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The Highland Fox and The English Rose

Summary:

Elain Archeron, the middle daughter of an enterprising English merchant, has been raised with one goal in mind: become the wife of a respectable Englishman. Everything else—her interests, her desires—didn’t matter. But when her father convinces her to enter into an arranged marriage with a brutal Scottish Laird to save their family from ruin, Elain is suddenly forced to reevaluate everything she thought she wanted in life.

As the newly appointed Laird of a derelict clan with a crumbling castle, marriage was the last thing on Lucien’s mind. His entire life is thrown into disarray when he is forced into a marriage contract he didn’t sign, to an Englshwoman he’d never met.

But Lucien harbors a dark, ruinous secret that affects more than just himself, and he is determined to resolve the issue at hand. Together, the Highland Fox and the English Rose will go on a journey that will force Elain and Lucien together—or drive them apart.

Read on AO3 Masterlist

XXX

Chapter 2: Oh tell me what was on yer road, ye roarin' Norlan' Wind

As far as weddings went, it wasn’t completely horrible.

Had Elain pictured something a bit more… illustrious whenever she daydreamed about her wedding as a child? Of course—what little girl, perhaps with the exception of Feyre, hadn’t been mentally planning their dream wedding since they were old enough to understand that marriage was the only fate that awaited them when they grew up? Elain had already decided on what flowers and dress she’d want at her wedding with Graysen before he’d even proposed.

Instead, as soon as Elain and her sisters arrived at the Clan Macpherson keep, sore after days of riding in a rough carriage, they were whisked into a side chamber of the aged castle, where a number of women immediately began dressing Elain in her wedding dress and fiddling with her hair.

“I didn’t realize we were in such a rush!” Elain gasped as a woman tightened her corset.

“I know, my dear,” her father sighed from across the room. Elain, Nesta and Feyre were hidden behind their dressing doors. “But you know these Scots—they have no patience for anything, and place no value in having any manners for guests.”

Elain gulped. And she was to marry a man like this?

“A word, my dear Elain.”

Elain nodded towards her sisters as she went to her father. He was dressed in a handsome new outfit: a dark burgundy suit jacket with shining gold buttons, slick black shoes and an impressive velvet black hat. She had never seen him wear anything so nice. Elain fingered her own gloves; silk, bought second hand, and already fraying around the edges.

“I just wanted to prepare you for your husband,” her father began gently. “He is… well… disfigured, to be blunt.”

“Oh,” Elain sighed, disappointed. “In what way?”

“He’s missing an eye and wears a horrible eyepatch. The side of his face is mangled as well.”

“What happened to him?”

Her father shrugged. “Who knows? Probably got in a drunken brawl, you know how these people are. Can’t go one day without nearly killing each other.”

Elain’s stomach dropped.

“Don’t fret too much, my dear,” her father said soothingly, seeing her suddenly pale face. “I just wanted to warn you before you saw him and ran away screaming. I wouldn’t blame you, but, as Englishmen and women, we must always show benevolence and grace to those below us.”

“Of course Father,” Elain agreed quietly. This was true. As the daughter of a gentleman, she was duty bound to show kindness and compassion to others, even if they were savage Scots.

And what was her Scot, her soon to be husband, like? Her sister’s words from the carriage ride, as well as her own knowledge and her father’s information, rattled through her brain as she was led towards the intimate chapel tucked away in the back of the castle. Elain’s hand gripped her father’s arm, a buoy in the tumultuous sea of her emotions.

Somehow, they were already standing outside the doors of the hall, waiting for their signal to enter. Elain wasn’t sure where the past few minutes had gone but then she heard her name being announced, and she was walking toward her future.

Elain’s first thought was that Lucien was much younger than what she was anticipating: her age, or only a few years older. She was relieved. Her second thought, on the heels of the first, was that her father greatly exaggerated his injury.

As Elain slowly walked down the aisle, her father at her side, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from her soon to be husband. Without a doubt, Lucien was the most handsome man she had ever seen. He was tall and lean, but held himself with such confidence and poise that Elain knew he must have hidden muscles under his attire. He had a thin face and one gorgeous brown eye, which was staring above Elain with as little emotion as possible.

His other eye—or where an eye should have been—was indeed covered by a brown eye patch, but neither the eyepatch nor the silver scars running down the side of his face detracted from his beauty. Instead, it just made him look wild and untamed in the best way possible.

Perhaps his most distinguished feature, even more so than his missing eye, was his luscious red hair. Someone had braided a few small sections of his hair away from his face, and it only made him more handsome. Lucien’s hair was long, perhaps even longer than Elain’s own hair, and so smooth and soft looking she was instantly and irrationally jealous that a heathen like him would be blessed with hair so fine.

Elain wasn’t even aware of being given away by her father. She didn’t know where Feyre and Nesta were, and didn’t care to look for them. All she could see was her future husband.

Lucien wore a large piece of emerald green, cobalt and dark gray wool plaid, belted at his waist and hanging just above his knees so as to give Elain a small peak of the muscles in his legs. The rest of the fabric was pinned on a broad shoulder so it flowed down his back. A long sleeved, white shirt that complimented his hair and golden brown skin beautifully was under his great kilt. Tall leather boots covered his calves. Lucien perfunctorily offered his hand when she approached the dias.

She took his hand; his skin was warm, like an inferno was blazing just below the surface. Finally, he lowered his gaze towards her own. His countenance was still bland, but his eye contained such fire, such fury, that she momentarily lost her breath. His gaze dipped behind and he glared at something before he schooled his face into the same bored mask he had been wearing before.

Elain puzzled over the anger in his eye the entire ceremony until the priest, with an obvious cough, broke her out of her thoughts. She said her vows and “I do,” and suddenly, she was a married woman.

She was still thinking of her new husband hours later, seated at the high table on a dias in the castle’s great hall next to her husband—Lucien, she thought to herself. He hadn’t said a word to her yet and hadn’t even looked at her since their ceremony.

Elain looked down at her finger. Lucien had slipped a silver ring on her finger during the ceremony. The band was composed of two intertwining pieces of metal designed to look like tree branches, with small leaves and flowers branching off. It was elegantly simple, and more refined than Elain thought any Scotsman capable of providing.

A single drum beat ripped through the air and silenced the few assembled people already sitting at the long tables throughout the cavernous room. The great wooden doors opened and the castle’s herald began announcing the lairds and lords who had been invited to the wedding.

Elain watched as a number of lairds entered the hall, each with their own distinct plaid and ornaments. Besides her, she felt Lucien tense up as more and more people entered, his mouth tight and his hand gripping the wooden armrest of his chair.

“Whatever ye do,” he whispered roughly to her, his deep voice sending chills down her spine, “doona talk to anyone here. Stick to yer sisters.”

She frowned. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to any of our guests?”

“They’re no’ our guests.”

“They’re here in your hall, celebrating our marriage!”

“The only reason they’re here,” Lucien gritted out, “is because there would be a war if we didna’ extend niceties to them and invite them. They are no’ our guests or our friends. Stay away from all of them—especially them.”

Elain looked to the two groups that Lucien pointed out. A tall, slim man with red hair the exact same shade as Lucien’s was sitting below their own table. He stared at Lucien with a cruel smirk on his face while Lucien steadfastly ignored him. The red haired man looked over at Elain. To her shock, he looked her up and down and winked at her.

At the other side of the room, in the corner, a large contingent of people with dark hair and brown skin were settling into place. Their laird, a man with almost violet eyes, was staring towards the front of the hall, where her sisters sat at the table near her and Lucien’s.

When everyone was seated, the herald swiftly made his way to the front of the hall. “Introducing,” he boomed, “Laird Lucien and his wife, Elain Archeron!”

The two of them awkwardly stood up. Elain suddenly felt adrift again as she looked out at hundreds of unfamiliar faces staring intently at her. Everyone was politely clapping, and there were some whoops and cheers from a nearby table, but she could feel the judgment radiating from the crowd. Narrowed eyes appraised her—her face, her appearance, her English-ness—and she knew she was left wanting. Elain tried to grasp Lucien’s hand, anything to prevent herself from drowning, but he shook her off, and they woodenly sat back down.

Dinner passed in a haze—she had no appetite—and then tables were pushed to the sides of the hall to create a large mingling and dancing space. Several musicians set up in the front of the hall, and the rich sounds of a drum, fiddle and harp floated over the room.

“I’m going to turn about the room,” Lucien said abruptly. “Remember: doona talk to anyone except yer sisters.” He didn’t give Elain a chance to argue her case as he swept across the hall.

Elain sighed as she watched Lucien retreat. Despite what she felt for him at the moment—annoyance, frustration—she couldn’t stop her gaze from sweeping over his strong body like she had done earlier that day.

She shook herself. She wouldn’t be caught ogling Lucien at her own wedding. Slightly embarrassed and hoping no one saw her, she looked about the room.

Below her, Nesta was using all of her patience towards convincing Feyre to stay at the table and not join the crowd. She heard snippets of their whispered argument—“Who comes to a wedding and doesn’t dance or talk to people?” “Us, because we’re two single English women surrounded by a crowd of barbarous Scotsmen!” “But the men here are so handsome!”—and kept gazing about.

She noticed her father wasn’t sitting with Feyre and Nesta—odd—but she saw Lucien talking excitedly with a regal woman with flaming hair and bright blue eyes. A tall man stood next to the woman, looking between Lucien and the woman and the rest of the room with a pair of sharp, calculating eyes.

A flair of jealousy washed over Elain. She didn’t know Lucien, and realized the weak bond of their marriage was the only thing holding them together. Despite that, she was unreasonably angry at the proud woman smiling at Lucien, and Lucien smiling and laughing back.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be so horrible if he wasn’t so handsome when he smiled, Elain thought bitterly.

It took all of her willpower to rip her gaze away from her husband. He mentioned the various Lairds weren’t here as valued guests, but why invite them? She saw one of the Lairds—a hulking blonde man with a stern face—talking to a dark skinned Laird. The blonde man was casually stroking the head of an ax belted to his body as he regarded his fellow Laird. Elain shivered; the casual violence on display unnerved her.

Another Laird, pale, with hair so fair it looked white, sat stiffly with a blonde woman, surveying the room with glacier cold eyes. Elain studied the man. He looked foreign, even compared to the Scots around him.

“They say those from Clan MacDonnell are descended from the Norsemen from the East,” a quiet voice said behind Elain. “Kallias there certainly looks like he belongs on a longship raiding coastal villages, rather than journeying across the Wall to destroy English towns.”

Elain whipped around. The red haired man, the one Lucien told Elain to stay away from, was standing right behind her. He smirked at her but there was no warmth in his cold eyes.

“If the rumors are to be believed, y’ken,” the man went on. Elain stared in shock at the man. “I think the old Viking viciousness has long been bred out of the MacDonnell’s.”

Elain glanced around her. No one was paying her any attention. “Who are you?”

“Eris Vanserra, heir apparent to the Vanserra clan.”

Elain stared at him. He towered above her, with a hard, rugged face littered with small scars and cuts. His long, red hair hung behind him in a straight sheath. Like all the men in the hall, he wore a unique tartan kilt, belted around his waist and slung over a shoulder: various shades of brown, orange, red and yellow crossing in an intricate plaid pattern. A large sword was belted at his hip. Elain gulped.

“I was hoping the new Laird would take the time to introduce us all to his lovely new bride, but obviously no one explained to him proper Scottish wedding etiquette,” Eris went on, his narrowed eyes looking Elain up and down like a piece of meat. “Eejit. I’m no’ surprised—I doona believe he has too many people here at the castle under his employ that would tell him what to do.”

Elain nervously looked around. She didn’t particularly care about obeying Lucien’s request to not talk to anyone, but she was also keenly aware that she was an Englishwoman surrounded by vicious Scottsmen and women. It seemed making polite conversation with Eris was the safest option.

“Well, er, what does proper Scottish wedding etiquette entail?”

“Ye’d actually be introduced to all yer guests, rather than put on display like a prized coo.”

Elain gasped. “Excuse you! That’s completely inappropriate!”

Eris shrugged. “At least a prized coo could have gotten the Laird more money and use for this run down keep than whatever yer probably worth. I suppose yer passably attractive though.”

For perhaps the first time in her life, Elain snapped. “Fine words, coming from a backwards, barely literate brute skulking about in a skirt to harass women!” She snapped her mouth shut and looked at Eris in shock. She had never been so rude to anyone in her life.

She braced herself for a retaliatory strike in some form, but was surprised to hear Eris softly chuckle. “I suppose there’s a bit more fire to ye than I thought.”

“I’m sorry—“

“Doona apologize,” Eris interrupted her harshly, frowning. “A word of warning: yer no’ in sweet England anymore. Most people here will do anything to make yer life a living hell, just based on where yer from. Ye need to toughen up if ye want to survive.”

Elain stared at Eris. The words and phrases he used—living hell, toughen up, survive - rang in her ears. Perhaps Feyre had the right idea all along; maybe Elain should have let her sister whisk her away while she had the chance. The sinking feeling returned to her, but instead of drowning, she realized she had been swimming in shark infested waters the moment she stepped foot in the castle.

But Elain needed this. She remembered the cautious excitement she’d felt on the journey here, when she realized that this marriage in this wild land could give her the freedoms she’d always lacked in England. If she needed to toughen up, as Eris put it, to thrive here in her new home, to fit in and discover her own interests and desires, then so be it.

And damn whatever her new husband had to say about it.

Elain took a deep breath. “Perhaps some of Clan MacDonnell’s fabled viciousness could help me now.”

Eris gave her a savage grin. “Now yer speaking like a true Scotswoman.”

“What else can I do to… acclimate to Scotland? Survive, as you put it?”

Eris stroked his jaw. “Speak yer mind plainly. Us Scots doona have time or patience for veiled niceties and double meanings.”

Elain frowned; that would be difficult. “Anything else?”

“Aye, get used to drinking. Anyone this far north should be able to drink their body weight in ale, men and women. Wouldna hurt to learn how to handle a dirk as well, just in case. And don’t be so… quiet. Ye’ve clearly got a great wit to ye, make sure to use it.”

“So I should just change everything about myself and how I was brought up, is that it?” Elain asked sarcastically.

He shrugged. “Ye asked. Ye doona need to change everything about yourself to fit in, just sharpen your soft bits.”

Elain hummed thoughtfully. Perhaps she had judged the Scots too harshly. Yes, they seemed far too familiar with violence for her liking and spoke their mind far too much, but they were far away from the uncultured savages she had pictured.

“Thank you for the advice, but who exactly are you?” Elain asked suspiciously. “And why are you even talking to me?”

“Aye, Eris, why are ye talking to my wife?”

Lucien emerged from behind a pillar, a murderous look on his face. Elain froze, terrified at her husband’s expression, though she relaxed slightly as Lucien stalked towards a still grinning Eris.

“Congratulations on yer happy nuptials, brother,” Eris said with relish, looking over at a fuming Lucien. “How sad Mother would be to see how yer treating yer new wife.”

Elain quickly looked between the two men. Now that he said it, Lucien and Eris were obviously related: they had the same red hair, brown eyes and lean, pointed faces. But Eris said he was from Clan Vanserra, and Lucien was Laird of Clan Macpherson—did Scots have a different definition of brother than the English?

“Brother?” Elain stuttered, looking at her husband. “This is your brother?”

“Unfortunately,” Lucien said, “and he was just leaving, weren’t ye?”

Eris walked up to Lucien and gave him a hard slap on the back. “Aye. I’ll let the happy couple become better acquainted.” Elain watched Eris lean down and whisper something in Lucien’s ear; whatever he said made Lucien glare at his brother.

“Get out,” he snarled.

Eris sent an ugly look back at Lucien, then he nodded at Elain before briskly walking away.

The party was still going on around them but it was just Elain and Lucien alone at the top of the hall. Lucien awkwardly cleared his throat. “Are ye alright? Did he… say anything to ye?”

“Er, not really, I suppose. We were just… talking.”

Lucien rubbed the back of his neck. “Right, good.”

Elain hummed back noncommittally, looking anywhere but the reddened face of her new husband.

Lucien’s eyes suddenly narrowed as he looked at her. “And why were ye talking to him?”

Elain scoffed. “He came to me and started the conversation. I could hardly tell him to go away.”

“Ye most certainly could have, and should.”

“Why do you even care who I talk to at my own wedding?”

“Because,” Lucien growled, “the people here—“

“Yes, yes,” Elain rolled her eyes. “Your brother already warned me that the people here hate me and that I’ll need to toughen up if I want to live here.”

He sighed. “People here don’t hate ye.”

“They don’t know anything about me other than my name and that I’m English,” Elain replied hotly. “Perhaps they’d know more if you bothered to do your duty and introduce me to anyone here.”

“It’s better for ye to not know any of the Lairds here by name, especially Eris and the Northern clans,” Lucien warned, gesturing to the dark haired guests he’d previously pointed out. “They're all dangerous.”

“At least Eris was willing to keep me company at my own wedding, unlike my husband!” Elain snapped. “You just left me alone and told me to keep my mouth shut, like a dog!”

Lucien’s face turned a shade of red not unlike his hair. “Maybe ye could do to learn a lesson from the dogs down at the stable—they’re never as loud or bother me as much as ye already are!”

Elain curled her lip. “Well, husband, unlike your dogs, I won’t blindly follow whatever orders you tell me!” Not giving him a chance to reply, Elain stormed out of the hall, uncaring of where she was going.

Her beautiful Scottish husband was a complete ass. Just her luck that she’d be married to an overbearing Laird with apparent family issues and an attitude that rivaled Feyre’s.

She slipped outside into a surprisingly manicured garden and sat on a stone bench. Gazing up at the moon, Elain reflected on what a truly terrible day it had been. From the rushed ceremony to the boring and disastrous reception and Lucien’s abysmal interest in her, she wasn’t sure what else could have gone wrong.

Maybe Feyre had the right idea of it—maybe it would have been better to abandon the carriage on the way up and fight their way back home to avoid this sham of a marriage. Elain truly hadn’t been expecting much, but she hadn’t anticipated being compared to a dog on her wedding night.

“There you are. Needed a few minutes to yourself?”

A soft rusting of skirts, and then Nesta sat down lightly on the stone bench next to her.

Elain sighed, unsurprised to see her eldest sister. “Something like that. Are you enjoying yourself?”

“More than it appears you are,” Nesta replied, looking at Elain out of the corner of her eye.

Elain chuckled bitterly. “Certainly not the wedding I imagined for myself.”

Nesta sighed, then wrapped an arm around Elain’s shoulder, bringing her close. They sat in silence for several moments, letting the cool night air linger on their faces.

“Did you come out here for a reason?” Elain asked some time later.

Nesta winced. “To check on you… and get you ready for tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“With Lucien.”

Elain blushed. Although her mother had passed away when she was younger, some kind aunts had explained what happened between a married man and woman on their wedding night.

“I’ll admit, I forgot about that.”

Nesta took her hand in a reassuring squeeze. “That’s understandable. Are you ready to come in?”

Is it too late to say no? Elain thought. Not just for the evening ahead, but all of it: living in Scotland, running a castle, and being married to a man who seemed completely at odds with her.

Elain sat up a bit straighter. There was nothing she could do about her marriage now. She needed to toughen up if she wanted to live in Scotland and find herself; this was just something she needed to do to get herself there.

“I’m ready,” Elain said with more conviction than she felt. Nesta led them inside to a large room filled with maids, and they all began preparing Elain for her first night as a married woman.

From the first moment his bride to be turned the corner into the little chapel, Lucien knew he was fucked.

Elain was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. A true English rose, with those giant brown eyes framed by thick eyelashes and luscious hair cascading down her back in soft waves and framing her pretty heart shaped face perfectly. Her cheeks and lips were petal pink; he wondered where else on her body was that lovely shade of rose.

Likening her to a single rose was an insult to her beauty: the woman in front of him was more beautiful than the finest bouquet of wildflowers, more lovely than a crisp autumn morning in the Clan Vanserra woods, and breathtaking like plunging face first into a cool loch on the first day of spring.

She was petite—he doubted she graced his shoulder—with generous curves under her dress. Lucien bet his hands would fit perfectly in the dip of her waist, over her breasts, between her legs…

Lucien looked away from her and shifted slightly. He hadn’t expected to become stiff at his own wedding, and he willed his cock to stand down, thinking of anything that would divert the blood in his body elsewhere. He hadn’t been expecting much, really, but Elain Archeron was already somehow better than what he was expecting.

This woman didn’t deserve this, Lucien thought bitterly. Shackled to him, a man forced into marrying her because her father cared more about lining his pockets than the happiness of a daughter. It sickened him to know Mr. Archeron thought so poorly of his daughter; based on the small smiles she sent her father’s way, Lucien guessed Elain had no idea she had been sold like livestock to a cornered bidder.

Lucien glared at the man responsible for all his misery, trying to convey all of his hatred into one eye. Mr. Archeron didn’t look upset at all by the proceedings, nor did he seem particularly bothered by the fact that his own clothes were nicer than that of all three of his daughter’s combined.

After what felt like one prolonged heartbeat, Elain was in front of him. She took his offered hand with one of her own, and he finally lowered his gaze to her.

He tried to not let the anger he felt on her behalf show but knew, based on the slight widening of Elain’s eyes, that he wasn’t successful. Lucien spared one final glare towards Mr. Archeron then focused back on his wife.

This near to her, Lucien could make out the freckles dusting the bridge of her nose and cheeks. Her eyes were an even more intense brown than he thought, pulling him in like a siren at sea. Elain blushed and looked away, her tongue darting out to lick her lips.

She was as innocent as a fawn, and the realization hit him suddenly: she was going to be eaten alive here.

The Lairds of the Highlands were always plotting against one another, whether for more territory, better resources, or because they were bored on a particular Tuesday and thought starting a war with a neighboring Laird would help pass the time. Lucien, as the newest and one of the youngest Lairds in the Highlands, was already a target from neighboring leaders for the few bountiful lochs and fertile fields within his borders, not to mention the new trade routes that would benefit his clan. A new, young, pretty wife would make those Lairds even more envious.

His stomach lurched. Just imagining Elain surrounded by the other Lairds and their cohorts, their malicious eyes gazing over his wife’s gentle face, their minds scheming to ruin her, made him sick. Some of the Lairds—Vassa, Tamlin—could be trusted more than others, but he felt cold with the idea of any of them getting near his wife.

His wife who he now had to protect. All he could think, as the priest rattled on and on, was that his hands and brain were already full of one mission to save someone; how would he add shielding his delicate English wife to his already full plate?

He was still puzzling over that later, long after the ceremony had ended and the reception began. It only got worse when the lairds of the land began filing in with their retinues.

There was Tamlin Stewart, hulking and brooding as ever. His lands were far to the south, and it comforted Lucien to see a friendly face at this farce of a wedding. They sent brief nods to each other across the hall before Lucien focused on the rest of the Lairds flowing in.

Laird Tarquin Lamont, from the West Coast, entered next, followed by Kallias MacDonnell. Both of them had tentatively agreed to trading contracts and routes with Lucien—routes that his new father in law was going to exploit, he knew. Lucien couldn’t keep the scowl off his face.

To make matters worse, Lucien saw Eris stroll into the hall, wearing the familiar tartan pattern that Lucien had spent his entire life up until a few months ago wearing. His heart briefly ached, quickly replaced by rage when Rhysand Sinclair and his so called “inner court” sauntered into the hall.

Finally their guests—Lucien could think of several words he’d rather use to describe the people occupying his hall at the moment—settled in. The castle’s portly herald rushed to the front of the hall.

“Introducing,” his voice rang out, “Laird Lucien and his wife, Elain Archeron!”

The two of them awkwardly stood up. Lucien made sure to send steely gazes to the assembled Lairds before him, willing all the mutual anger and disdain he felt for most of them into his remaining eye. He felt a small fluttering by his hand; some of the frayed threads on the cuff of his well-worn shirt quickly mended before the ceremony must have come unraveled. Shaking his arm to dispel the loose threads, Lucien sat back down heavily with a final leer around the room.

Lucien had little appetite, choosing instead to brood over his ale. He spared a glance at Elain. It seems she wasn’t fond of the food, as she pushed her potatoes around her plate.

The firelight in the hall caught his glittering finger. His wedding band, a simple piece of iron no doubt thrifted by his new father-in-law, mocked him from its new place on his hand. It spoke of his future: tarnished, heavy, and bound to someone he didn’t want.

Lucien couldn’t breathe. He needed to get away from this stranger before he said something he’d regret. “I’m going to turn about the room,” he said abruptly. “Remember: doona talk to anyone except yer sisters.”

Elain may have tried to say something, but he didn’t wait to find out, leaving their table and walking directly towards Vassa and Jurian.

“Here comes the man of the hour himself,” Vassa said, an impressive eyebrow arching as she watched Lucien thunder up to the pair. “Yer looking far more upset on yer wedding day than any man should be.”

“Och, stop it,” Lucien snapped. “We all ken this is a joke of a wedding.”

“Joke or no’, ye just married one of the most bonnie lasses on either side of the wall. That alone would have any other man in this hall smiling from ear to ear.”

Lucien scowled, thinking the lairds assembled would do much more to his innocent English wife given the chance. “That lass is nothing but a burden and a liability—“

“As is the curse of women everywhere, hm?” Vassa asked, her lips turned down and that all too familiar fire lighting up her eyes. “Nothing but burdens for the men around them.”

Lucien deflated, Vassa’s words making his face redden. “I’m sorry. Yer right, of course. None of this is her fault. It’s that damned father of hers—!”

“Keep yer voice down!” Vassa scolded, smacking him lightly on the arm. No one else but Vassa could get away with that. “Ye’ll frighten Elain to death if a fight breaks out on yer wedding day!”

“A fight might be helpful,” Jurian said lightly, eyeing the different factions gathered under Lucien’s roof. “Let the lairds work out some of the tension between themselves.”

Lucien quirked an eyebrow at Jurian. As a former English military man who absconded from his home country the moment he laid eyes on Vassa Fraser, it was helpful to have an outside perspective on Scottish clan life. “Have ye been hearing things?”

“Rumors of Laird Sinclair tightening up roads and access into his territory, as well as stationing more men of fighting age near and around Sangravah.”

Lucien’s stomach dropped. “Do ye think—?”

“No,” Jurian responded quickly. “I don’t think it has anything to do with… that. I’ve heard something valuable is hidden there, but I’ve no idea what.”

“How did he even manage to make it down here on such short notice?”

“No doubt that Spymaster of his heard some rumblings on the wind and informed him of a wedding that he should attend, to remind the rest of the Lairds of his presence,” Jurian sneered.

Lucien cursed. “What is that bastard planning? Why now?”

“Perhaps he’s planning something with the English crown again,” Vassa said darkly, shooting a dark glare towards Laird Rhysand Sinclair. “Allying with them in exchange for safety for him and his lands.”

The three of them exchanged dark glances.

“Perhaps we should—“

“No,” Lucien interrupted Jurian, his voice tight. “I’ll have to breach Sinclair lands one way or the other; backroads on foot is still the fastest way.”

Jurian was silent for a moment, then shrugged, taking a sip of his ale. “Better you than me—I’d be hanged on site if the English or their agents catch me. Traitor to the crown and whatnot.”

“Don’t worry, my dear,” Vassa crooned, lightly stroking the back of Jurian’s neck, “the only thing that will ever be around yer neck will be my plaid or my hands.”

“Ugh, not in public, you two,” Lucien groaned. “Heathens, both of ye!” As much as Lucien detested their public displays of affection, his own heart panged with jealousy. With his new marriage to Elain, the chances of him having that kind of easy familiarity with another person was slim.

“Maybe once ye get to know yer bonny little wife a wee bit better she’ll be more than willing to do the same for ye,” Vassa said, with such an exaggerated grin and wink that Lucien couldn’t help laughing with her.

“Thank ye both for attending at such short notice,” Lucien said quietly. “It’s been… challenging, but having ye here has made it a bit better.”

“Wouldn’t miss our dearest friend’s wedding if the Gordans, Grahams and Grants were knocking at our doors,” Vassa said fondly, and for the first time in days, Lucien felt like not everything was falling apart around him.

“So, how’s that business with yer loch coming along?” Lucien asked, changing the subject to Vassa’s recent bird infested lake.

This was how it should be, Lucien thought wistfully as he listened to Vassa complain about the aggressive birds tormenting her. No English wife, no horribly conniving father in law, no castle threatening to crumble around him at any day’s notice, and no one needing him to play the hero. Just relaxing at the Clan Fraser keep, talking and drinking with his friends, without a care in the world.

“How’s Eris doing?” Vassa asked suddenly, staring off into the distance.

Lucien frowned. “Er—not sure. I saw that he was here on Beron’s behalf but I didna exactly feel the need to talk to him.”

“Ah. Well, it seems he’s made a new friend in Elain.”

Whipping his head around, Lucien stared in open-mouthed horror as he watched, like time had slowed down to taunt him, his eldest snake of a brother talking to Elain, alone. To her credit, she wasn’t cowering like he expected she would, but seemed… thoughtful, if a bit annoyed at his presence.

“Shite!” Lucien blurted out. “I have to go!”

Leaving a chuckling Vassa and Jurian behind him, he made his way back to the front of the hall, where Eris had drawn Elain into a corner. He heard Elain ask Eris who he was and why he was here, and Lucien was interested in the answer as well. “Yes, Eris, why are ye talking to my wife?”

Eris grinned unapologetically at Lucien, giving him some cockamamie answer about congratulating them on their marriage and their disappointed mother. Lucien saw red—for him to speak of their mother now…

Elain was certainly surprised to learn a relative of Lucien’s was at the wedding, her gaze comically darting between Lucien and Eris. He would almost laugh at her reaction if Lucien wasn’t so terrified of what Eris might have revealed to Elain.

Eris finally excused himself after some not so gentle pushing from Lucien, but not before his older brother got the last word. “Include her in yer plans,” Eris hissed in Lucien’s ear. “She’s smarter than she looks—“

“Get out.”

Eris shot him a deep frown then left without another word. This couldn’t get any worse.

But it could, as Lucien got into an argument with his new wife. An argument, he reflected later while sitting at their table, alone, in which he had compared her to a dog. What was wrong with him?

The chair that Elain had sat in earlier moved back and Tamlin sat down with a heavy thud. He didn’t say anything to Lucien, but sat there drinking his ale and looking over the hall, still filled with laughter and dancing.

“Bit of a rough start to the marriage?” Tamlin asked.

Lucien snorted into his cup. “To say the least. Damn England and everyone from it!”

“Well, they’re not all so bad,” Tamlin murmured. “What do ye think of Elain’s younger sister, Feyre?”

Lucien looked at Tamlin, astounded. He’d known Tamlin nearly his entire life, the Stewart’s land being south of Clan Vanserra’s. The family’s were always on friendly terms with one another. Like Lucien, Tamlin held no love for the English any more than he did.

“Uh, a bit… spirited, that one,” Lucien answered diplomatically. The eldest, Nesta, possessed a coldness that rivaled Kallias, and Feyre reminded him of Rhysand Sinclair himself with how devious, lethal and clever she appeared to be.

“She’s quite interesting, Feyre,” Tamlin went on, still looking about the room. “Had a good discussion on hunting techniques a little while ago.”

“Alright,” Lucien said, unsure why Tamlin was telling him this or why he decided to talk to Feyre in the first place. He had had enough talk of the English today, and didn’t want to hear one more word about them. “I’m going to talk to some of the others here.”

Tamlin grunted noncommittally and Lucien leapt to his feet. He didn’t have long to dwell on the odd conversation as he moved from table to table, talking with guests and working out the final details on a few of his new trade routes with some Lairds.

“I’m ready for bed, Dougal,” Lucien said hours later. He stumbled out of the hall—he hadn’t realized how much he had drunk. All he needed, he thought to himself as Dougal helped him to his room, was a nice, peaceful sleep and a hearty breakfast in the morning.

“I got it from here Dougal, yer dismissed,” Lucien yawned, throwing open his bedroom door and slamming the door closed behind him.

Someone had lit dozens of candles around the room—odd, since he usually let the light of the moon bathe his room with light, rather than deal with the hassle of candles. And there was something moving on his bed—

“There you are! I’ve been waiting for hours!”

“Sweet hell, woman!” Lucien shouted, stumbling backwards and nearly falling on his backside. “What are ye doing here?”

“This thing called ‘consummating the marriage’,” Elain sneered at him from the bed, his sheet pulled up to her chin as she sat up. “I was told that’s one of the few wedding customs we share.”

“Ach, hell,” Lucien groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. “It’s been a long night—“

“Have you been calling your guests all kinds of horrible names as well, or was that honor just reserved for me?”

“That was wrong of me,” Lucien began, leaning against his dresser for support. “I ken this…situation isn’t yer choice—“

“It’s not, but I’m—“ hiccup! ”—at least trying to make this work!”

“Have ye been drinking?” Lucien asked incredulously.

“The maids may have given me something as they were preparing me,” Elain admitted. Lucien could see the light pink blush on her cheeks and she licked her lips. “Said it was to settle the nerves and make it easier for me.”

“No’ like this,” Lucien said wearily. “It’s no’ right, to take ye like that if yer no’ ready.”

She glared at him, standing up and taking the bedsheet with her. “Who says I’m not ready? I’m a grown, married woman—I can decide these things for myself now.”

“We haven’t had the best start, yer in a new land—yer overwhelmed—“

“Would someone who’s overwhelmed do this?” Elain asked, dropping the bedsheet so she stood completely naked in front of Lucien.

If he were a better man, Lucien would have turned away immediately, left the room and sent in a maid to make sure Elain slept comfortably and was safe. Hell, if he were the best type of man, he’d have left the room immediately when she admitted she had been plied with alcohol to make her endure their first coupling.

Lucien was not a good man. He stared, empty-headed, at the sight of his naked wife’s beautiful body in the soft glow of the candle light. Her breasts were small and her nipples peaked, the same dusty rose gracing her cheeks. She was just as curvy as he knew she was, with a tiny waist his hands could grip as she bounced in his lap, her hips wide and perfect for his hands to plant themselves on when he fucked her on all fours, her thighs soft when she’d eventually wrap them around his waist as he pounded into her, or even better, clenched around his head when he buried his face in the brown curls between her legs.

“Oh shite, yer naked,” Lucien stammered, closing his eyes and swiftly turning away, only to launch himself into his solid wood clothes chest. His forehead cracked against the wood and his knees hit the hard, stone floor with a thud and he rolled on his side, curled up pathetically on the ground.

“Lucien!” Elain called.

“Doona!” he gasped, screwing his eyes shut and forcing himself to stand on shaky legs away from her. If it wasn’t embarrassing enough that he ran into a dresser and possibly concussed himself, his cock was standing at full mast under his kilt, the head of his length rubbing uncomfortably against the scratchy wool.

“Take my bed for the night,” he called out, reaching for the door handle.

“Do you need—?”

“No!” Lucien growled with more force than even he was expecting. He turned his head to see Elain staring at him, wide eyed with shock that quickly morphed into a glare. “Ye’ve done enough for one night. Just… stay in here for the night. Please.”

Lucien thought he heard Elain mutter something under her breath but he didn’t wait to listen to hear. Wrenching the door open, he fled the room. He didn’t have a destination in mind—just far away from the woman who was now his wife, his future, his everything.

Perhaps if he ran far enough away, Lucien thought, he could outrun all of his problems.

#elucien #elucien fanfic #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #my fic #my fics #pro elucien #elain x lucien #gotta move this shit along #the god thing with an arranged/forced marriage trope #you just get the wedding over with

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fawnandshadows · 1 year

Text

The Night Before Christmas

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: None

AO3

Pairing: Elriel

Gifting this to my bestie @thefangirlofhp !!! I have loved getting to know you for over a year now (which is absolutely insane to me) and you always find a way to make me smile — even when you make me cry. I am constantly blown away by your talent and your win and your sense of humor. Also, feel free to consider this a bride for any season Azzine content my love 🫶🏻. Sequel to my fic Love In Every Stitch

“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!” Azriel exclaimed softly, closing the book after Sofia had her fill of the illustrations. His back leaned against her child’s purple wooden headboard, his dark curls rumpled and his reading glasses hung low on his nose — the dim glow of the bedside seashell-lamp gleamed off the metallic frames — and Sofia’s small, pajama clad form leaned against him.

Elain watched them silently from the doorway, having just come from brushing her teeth and was hoping to give her daughter a kiss goodnight before tucking her in, but she didn’t want to interrupt their time together. Azriel spent so much time at the hospital (and Graysen barely bothered to get to know his daughter, even less so than before) that Elain wanted to make sure Sofia got an ample amount of time with the only father figure in her life.

“Ash,” Sofia said, her voice heavy with sleep, shifting underneath her quilt to gaze up at her adoptive father. “Santa comes tonight?” A small fist raised to rub her eye.

“That’s right, pumpkin,” Azriel said, brushing some of her curls out of her face. “You left the cookies out? Milk? Carrots for the reindeer?” Elain watched as Sofia nodded her head, blonde curls bouncing with her movement. “Then the only thing left to do is sleep, sweetheart.”

“Otay,” Sofia said, burrowing further beneath her covers, shutting her eyes so tightly that little wrinkles formed around her eyes. “I’m sleeping.” She whispered loudly.

Azriel smiled down at her, kissing her forehead before sliding out of the bed. His eyes caught hers and he motioned for Elain to join them.

One honey-brown eye popped open as Elain sat on her daughter's bed.

“Did Santa come, Momma?” Sofia asked hopefully.

“Not yet,” Elain shook her head and brought the quilt up to Sofia’s heart shaped chin. “He only comes when you’re sleeping, remember?”

Sofia nodded and promptly closed her eyes again.

“Momma,” Sofia whispered with her eyes closed. “I’m too excited to sleep.”

“I know, honey,” Elain said softly and tucked a strand of hair behind her daughter's ear. “Would it help if I turned on the night light?”

Sofia nodded gently, already drifting off to dreamland. Without her even asking, Azriel walked over and switched the night light on, casting the entire room in a warm glow as it projected snowflakes onto the walls and ceiling. He then turned off the bedside lamp and walked to where she sat on the bed.

“Tanks,” Sofia said drowsily, her face softening and neck tilting to the side. Her small lips opening gently. “‘Night.”

“Good night, baby.” Elain placed a small kiss on her forehead before leaving with Azriel, both of them gazing fondly at sleeping Sofia before Elain closed the door.

“Thank you,” Elain smiled gratefully at him, wrapping her arms around his trim waist. “It means a lot that you spend so much time with her.”

One of his hands rested on her hip and the other between her shoulder blades. There was a slight hesitation, but it was something they were working through. Azriel had his own demons when it came to his self-image, especially around his scarred hands, and there was still a part of him that like felt he was undeserving of Elain — especially after learning he was a catalyst in her divorce from Graysen. So, Elain initiated most of their physical contact and Azriel slowly got better at accepting it.

They officially started dating this past fall. Azriel was prepared to wait what he deemed an “appropriate” amount of time, until Elain felt comfortable dating again, but she said that she had wasted enough time on Graysen and didn’t want to sacrifice anymore for his benefit. So, as soon as the contracts were signed, Elain showed up at his doorstep with Sofia and asked to cook him dinner. Now, he spent more time at her house than his apartment with his belongings almost migrating there completely. First it was his charger, then it was his toothbrush, and then his clothes wound up in her dresser and closet and it just made sense for him to start spending most of his nights here. And it was about 15 minutes closer to the hospital, which Elain always reminded him of whenever he hesitated in spending the night.

“I love Sofia, Elain,” Azriel said, his hands rubbing circles on her back. “You don’t have to thank me for spending time with her.”

She sniffed and Azriel felt it chip away at his heart like an ice pick.

“It’s just that Graysen never spent time with her, and I-I see how much she loves you and how much you make her smile and I just wish you were her dad,” Elain fought to keep her voice under control — Azriel cooed into her ear to help calm her. “Which isn’t fair to you. And if you ever left she’d be devastated—”

“Elain, hey,” Azriel cut her off in a rush, pulling his face out of her hair to gaze down at her. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Another sniff.

“I know,” Elain said, her small fingers pressing into him. “It’s just that Graysen lost interest in me after we had Sofia a-and you — you’re so good to her, but it seems too good to be true. Like one day you’ll realize we’re too much work and you’ll come home later and later and then I’ll wake up one day and you’ll be gone from our lives and—”

“Elain—”

“I know it’s not fair to put this on you since we’ve only been together for a few months and we’ve been moving so quickly—”

“Elai—”

“So, I just want her to get as much time with you as possible. It’s important for a young girl to have a father—”

“El—”

“Which is unfair to you because you never asked—”

His lips crushed hers, and Elain’s teary eyes opened wide in surprise. The kiss was borderline harsh, but it was exactly what Elain needed.

“I want to be with you Elain,” Azriel said earnestly, her lovely face between his hands. “And if time is the only thing that will prove it to you, then so be it. I’ll be here for you.”

Elain relaxed into him and sighed.

“I’m sorry.” Elain whispered, trying to brush away the embarrassment that was eating at her insides.

“Don’t apologize, Lain,” Azriel said, his thumbs brushing over her warm cheeks. “We both have shit to work through, and we’ll do it together, right?”

She nodded, taking a deep breath to steady herself.

“Together,” She repeated and pressed her lips against his. After a moment of just enjoying his embrace, she pulled back and mouthed the word, “Gifts?” In case Sofia was somehow still awake, and Azriel nodded along.

The two of them padded across the wooden floor and down the steps, putting in the last minute effort to make a little magic for the child sleeping upstairs.

— —

The living room had torn wrapping paper and ribbon scattered everywhere, and Elain wasn’t even bothered to see her hours of work ripped to shreds in a matter of minutes. It was all worth it to see Sofia smiling and hear her laughing. Hopped up on the joy of gifts and a sugary breakfast.

“Ash,” Sofia asked, tucked into his side, a half eaten cinnamon roll held in her small, sticky hand. “If you married Momma would you be my Papa?”

Elain watched Azriel tense at the question, unsure of how to proceed. The small child had no clue she just dropped a question-bomb on him as she nibbled on her breakfast. Azriel looked at her over Sofia’s head and Elain nodded at his unasked question.

“Yes, sweetheart, I would be,” Azriel replied, and Sofia simply nodded in response and focused on her cinnamon roll. He didn’t meet her gaze over her daughter's head. “I think it’s time for your momma to open a present.” He gently placed the child on her mothers lap.

“Momma,” Sofia whispered loudly, not knowing that Azriel could hear her as he dug around for a present. “I think you should marry him,” She crawled further onto her mothers lap, one small leg on each side of her hip, and her cheek pressed into her chest as her arms wrapped around her tightly. “I want him as my Papa.”

“I think I should too,” Elain replied, in the same loud whisper. “He makes a really good papa, huh?”

Sofia nodded and finished her cinnamon roll.

“Found it,” Azriel said, a touch too loudly. Elain smiled as she watched him crawling out from under the tree, brushing needles off of his blue flannel pajamas. He slowly approached her, his cheeks rosy and flushed, and held out a thin, rectangular, beautifully wrapped present.

The wrapping paper was a deep red and a decorative silver bow was placed on top of it. He must have snuck it into their gift pile when Elain wasn’t looking.

“What is it?” Elain asked, a giddy feeling fluttering in her chest.

“If only there was a way for you to find out.” Azriel teased, grinning shyly at her.

Excitedly, Elain ripped off the wrapping paper and unveiled a fine leather box. When she cracked it open her breath escaped her lungs as she saw pink pearls all strung together, with a mosaic rose pendant dangling from the strand. A necklace.

“Beautiful,” Elain breathed, her fingers barely touching the smooth pearls. “Put it on me?”

Azriel sat next to her, not having to pull her hair off of her neck since she had it piled on top of her head with one of those claw clips that he thought looked uncomfortable.

Elain could feel his breath ghosting across the skin of her neck and shivered.

“How does it look?” Elain asked.

“Pretty,” Sofia said, awestruck. “I have a pretty Momma.” Her small fingers gently floated over the pearls.

“The prettiest.” Azriel confirmed, dipping his head to kiss her cheek — but Elain had shifted to look at him more fully, and their lips collided.

“Oooooh,” Sofia cooed playfully, and Elain laughed at her child, turning her head to see Sofia gazing at them with a face-splitting grin. Azriel never moved his head, so his lips ended up on her cheek. Their original destination. “Ash loves Momma.”

Sofia laughed as if it was the funniest thing in the world.

“It’s true.” Azriel whispered against her cheek.

“He loves you too, honey.” Elain said in a loud, fake whisper.

Sofia shyly looked at Azriel, her face tucking into her mothers chest.

“Really?” Sofia asked, and Elain knew her daughter's mind was working overtime.

“Of course I love you, pumpkin.”

“Enough to be my Papa?” Her sticky fingers played with buttons on her pajamas.

“Yes.” Azriel replied in a thick, emotional voice. His large hand came forward to rest on Sofia’s small back, gently rubbing circles to soothe her.

Elain could see the whites of his eyes start to turn red.

“So, I can call you Papa? Papa Ash?”

It broke Elain’s heart to hear the hesitation in her daughter's voice.

“I would love that.” Azriel said, and Sofia leaned forward to wrap her arms around Azriel’s neck. And Elain gently handed her daughter off to Azriel, tucking her into his side before gently getting off the couch.

“Do you want another cinnamon roll, Sof?” Elain asked her daughter and watched as she nodded her small head. Her eyes met Azriel’s bright hazel ones over blonde curls. “More coffee?” Elain asked, and leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips after he nodded.

“Merry Christmas.” Elain mumble into his lips before grabbing his empty mug from the coffee table.

“The merriest.” Azriel said, smiling as his fingers smoothed some of Sofia’s blonde curls.

Tagging: @thefangirlofhp @sakurakittypeach @nikethestatue @tswaney17 @impossiblescissorspeachpaper @feyredarlinq @alwayssara @nyxreads @rinadragomir @secretpuppyflower @captainbrucebanner @ultadverb @irisesforelain @shedoessoshedoes @magnolia-blossom87 @sheena-beene @nivem565 @casuallivi @rhysiedarling @elain99 @athena-85 @swankii-art-teacher @reverie-tales @jujugirlfrombookstore @shadowflorecita @shy-violet-soul @thisloveseternal

#elriel #elain x azriel #elain archeron #pro elriel #azriel #elriel fanfiction #elriel fanfic #fawnandshadows writing #fawnandshadows fanfic

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