#acotar secret santa 2022 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moodymelanist · 1 year

Text

❅ Many Times, Many Ways ❅

Merry Christmas, @talkfantasytome! Tis I, your Secret Santa mwahahah. I was so excited to work on this fic, especially since you wrote me such a lovely one last year, so I hope you enjoy<3

@acotargiftexchange thank you for putting this wonderful event together for the second year in a row!

Summary: When Nesta finds herself without a date to her family's annual Christmas vacation, Cassian agrees to pretend to be her boyfriend for a week. Can they keep up the charade, or will they realize this is more than just a performance?

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 15k

Read on AO3 here!

❅❅❅❅❅

Nesta

Nesta was driving home from a long day at her law firm when her ringtone interrupted her Taylor Swift playlist. Sighing at the name on her caller ID, she dutifully hit the answer call button anyway. “Hello?”

“Hello, Nesta,” came her mother’s cool reply. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been well,” she answered. It wasn’t a complete lie, but she wasn’t in the habit of filling her mother in on every single detail of her personal life. “How have you been?”

“Oh, I’ve been alright,” Rhea told her. There was a muffled sound in the background, and Nesta figured her mother was sitting down on one of the large sectionals in their living room. “We’re in full throes for planning the holiday, as I’m sure you know.”

Nesta was honestly surprised it had taken this long for Rhea to call her to ask about Christmas. Every year, the Archerons gathered in their winter home in Connecticut to spend a week together, which mostly devolved into a lot of drinking before the week was up on Nesta’s behalf. In the past, she’d been able to get away with only coming for the weekend leading up to Christmas, but considering her law firm had allowed her to work remotely near the holidays, it wasn’t as ironclad of an excuse anymore.

“Who’s coming?” Nesta asked, drumming her fingers against the steering wheel as she waited for the turn signal.

“So far, your father and I, your grandmother, and both of your sisters,” Rhea answered. “Feyre’s bringing Tamlin, and Elain will be coming with Graysen. Will you be bringing Tomas again?”

Fuck. What was Nesta supposed to do? She hadn’t exactly been thinking about her holiday plans when she’d caught Tomas with the secretary he’d sworn up and down he’d wanted nothing to do with. She’d broken up with him three months ago and hadn’t thought to mention it to her mother – it wasn’t like their conversations were usually long enough to get into the gritty details. And considering her grandmother was coming, Nesta would rather walk over hot coals than show up without a partner when both her sisters were in relationships, too.

“No,” Nesta answered slowly. She already knew Rhea would be making a pinched face under her blunt-cut bangs, but it was best to rip the bandaid off. “We’re not together anymore.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.” Rhea paused before asking, “Will you be bringing someone else instead?”

“Yes,” Nesta agreed far too quickly. Fuck, this was stupid, but she’d certainly come up with worse ideas where her family was concenred. “I met someone and I’ll be bringing him instead.”

“Wonderful!” Rhea exclaimed. Of course her mother was thrilled Nesta wasn’t by herself – nothing was more horrifying than the idea of one of her daughters being single forever to a woman like Rhea, especially considering her own mother’s ideals about marriage. “Alright. I’ll make the proper arrangements. Let me know if anything changes, please?”

“I will, but I don’t expect anything to,” Nesta responded. She turned at the light and spied her building’s garage entrance coming up on the corner. “I’ve got to go, I’m about to get home.”

“Okay. I’ll be in touch.”

“Sounds good. Bye, Mom.”

“Goodbye, Nesta.”

Nesta parked and lightly hit her head against the steering wheel. Where the hell was she going to find a date to her family’s holiday vacation in three weeks?

❅❅❅❅❅

“So you decided to make up a fake boyfriend instead of… I don’t know, telling your mom the truth?” Gwyn asked, confused.

“Nesta has mommy issues like you wouldn’t believe,” Emerie said with a roll of her eyes. “Trust me, this isn’t even the worst thing she could’ve came up with.”

Nesta just scowled at her two friends. It had been hard enough attempting to explain things over the phone last night, but the three of them had met up for drinks after work for a “brainstorming session.” Thankfully the bar was crowded enough from happy hour that no one was paying attention to them – she would hate to end up on one of those overheard in Washington, DC Instagram posts.

“Mommy issues aside, what the fuck was I supposed to do?” Nesta exclaimed before taking a deep sip of her cocktail. “I can’t just show up empty handed! My mother would never let me hear the end of it, let alone my grandmother.”

“I don’t think that’s mommy issues aside, but whatever,” Emerie replied with a knowing look.

“That doesn’t change the fact that I can’t go back now,” Nesta responded with a heavy sigh. “I knew it was stupid when I said it, but I’ll look even more ridiculous telling her sorry, I made it up.”

Emerie and Gwyn exchanged glances before Emerie bit the bullet. “Well… if you’re that worked up about it, I know a guy.”

“Keep talking,” Nesta said while she motioned for the bartender to come back and refill her glass.

“His name’s Cassian,” Emerie told her. “He runs the gym I do my kickboxing classes at. I’ve known him for forever, and he’s crazy enough to be down for your brand of bullshit.”

“What Emerie means to say,” Gwyn cut in, shooting Emerie an exasperated look, “is that Cassian is an open-minded guy who would love a free vacation.”

Nesta studiously ignored the way Emerie tried to kick Gwyn in retaliation under the table. “Let me see what he looks like.”

Emerie pulled out her phone, tapping at the screen a few times before pulling up Cassian’s Instagram and handing the phone over. His bio was short and sweet, listing some MMA championships he’d won and tagging his gym, but the moment Nesta saw his pictures her mouth went a little dry. He was easily one of the most attractive men she’d ever seen, with pretty hazel eyes, dark curls that reached his shoulders, and an eyebrow scar that only added to his appeal. Even though he had clothes on in all his posts, Nesta could tell just how built he was underneath them, and a large part of her wanted to feel those muscles rippling under her own hands.

He could probably bench press her three times over. Nesta wanted to climb him like a tree.

“Yeah, I’ll give him your number,” Emerie said with a knowing smirk. “I know what that face means.”

“Shut up,” Nesta grumbled. She passed Emerie back her phone and pretended like she wasn’t proving her friend’s point.

“Lucky for you, he said he’s free to meet up tomorrow if you are,” Emerie announced after a few minutes.

“Can’t wait,” Nesta grumbled, a little embarrassed by how transparent she was being.

“Come on, we’re just teasing,” Gwyn attempted to placate her with a smile. “And even if it doesn’t work out, at least you’ll have a funny story to tell.”

❅❅❅❅❅

Nesta fiddled with her cup of hot chocolate as she waited for Cassian to show up. Through Emerie, they’d agreed to meet in one of the District’s many coffee shops, somewhere in between both of their workplaces, and she’d arrived a little earlier than the agreed-upon time just to calm her nerves.

It wasn’t working, but at least she’d had time to order herself something to drink and pick out a clean table.

“Nesta?” she looked up at the sound of her name to see Cassian before her in all his glory. He’d unbuttoned his dark coat to reveal a tight-fitting exercise shirt that left nothing to the imagination, and she had to wrap her hands around her cup just to stop herself from reaching out and touching him. He was taller than she’d guessed from his pictures – probably closer to 6’4 – and his cheeks were adorably pink from the cold air. “Hey. I’m Cassian.”

“Hi,” she squeaked out, willing herself not to blush at how much more attractive he was in real life. “Thanks for coming.”

“No problem,” he told her with a grin. “I’m gonna get something to drink – you want me to grab you anything else?”

“No, I’m okay,” she managed to reply without embarrassing herself further. “Thanks, though.”

She used the few minutes he was gone to pull herself together. So what he was even hotter than his pictures? She’d faced scarier things than a man who made butterflies flutter in her stomach, and besides, she knew she was just as easy on the eyes as he was. She forced herself to take a few deep breaths and smooth her hair back, putting on her game face when he eventually returned to the table.

“So, Nesta,” Cassian said after he sat down. “I don’t have that many details, but Emerie said something about a free Christmas vacation?”

“Something like that,” Nesta replied with a heavy sigh. So much for Emerie doing the heavy lifting for her. “I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend for a week during my family vacation. All you have to do is show up and act like you’re in love with me, and once we get back to DC, we can act like this never happened and go our separate ways.”

“Seriously?” he asked, blinking back surprise.

“Seriously,” she confirmed. “I know it’s weird, but my mother asked me if I was bringing someone for Christmas this year, and I may have said yes before I completely thought it through.”

Cassian studied her for a few moments before a chuckle escaped him. “Sorry, I promise I’m not laughing at you.”

“Then what’s so funny?” Nesta asked, scowling. She hated being laughed at more than anything else, and this guy seemed to have picked up on how to push that button within a few minutes of meeting her.

“I just find it hard to believe you’d have a problem finding a guy to date you for real,” he answered. “Or that you’re so against telling your mom the truth that you’d make up this whole big lie.”

“You haven’t met my mother,” she told him flatly. She wouldn’t get into the other half of his sentence – she’d never had a problem finding men who were attracted to her. It was finding the ones actually worth her time that was the problem.

“Not yet, anyways,” he said back, grinning. “Okay, so let’s say I do this. What do I get out of it?”

“A free, week-long vacation in Stamford, Connecticut,” she answered. “All the holiday activities you can think of – snowboarding, sledding, snow tubing, polar bear plunge, you name it. Plenty of alcohol and food, all paid for. Really, all you need to do is show up and pretend you like me for long enough to get my mother off my back.”

Cassian studied her for so long Nesta started to worry he would say no. What if she had to go back to the drawing board? She hated the idea of having to go through this with someone else, of having to explain her situation again and hope to God they actually took her seriously.

Nesta sighed heavily after they’d been sitting there in silence for longer than she liked. “Look, are you going to help me or not?”

“Show me where we’ll be staying?” Cassian asked. She dutifully unlocked her phone and let him scroll through some photos of their family vacation home. The Archerons had been going up to Stamford for summers and winters for as long as she could remember; it was the perfect vacation spot away from their family home on the Upper East Side. “Okay, but only if you say please.”

“Are you serious?” she questioned, snatching her phone back with a glare.

“As a heart attack,” he responded sweetly. “I mean, I could always go and make plans…”

“We’re adults, not kindergarteners,” she hissed. He had to be fucking with her. Right?

He paid her complaints no mind as he continued to talk. “You know, my brother said he wanted to go someplace warm for the holidays this year. The Caribbean sounds way nicer than Connecticut…”

“Fine,” she huffed, defeated. She needed him more than he needed her, so she took a deep breath and put on the fakest smile she could manage. “Would you please, please, pretend to be my boyfriend and save my Christmas?”

“It would be my genuine pleasure, sweetheart,” Cassian replied with a grin, though his was much more smug than hers. “Has anyone ever told you how pretty you look when you say please?”

“You’re insufferable,” Nesta muttered, crossing her arms as she sat back in her chair. She couldn’t believe Emerie had suggested this guy.

“Maybe, but you need me too much to complain about it.” He mirrored her and sat back in his chair, but he winked at her instead of crossing his arms. “Just let me know when and where I’m supposed to be.”

“Thank you,” she told him through gritted teeth. “We’re going from December 23rd through the 30th, so make sure you’re ready to go bright and early. We can figure out our story on the train ride there.”

“Sounds good to me,” he agreed, still smiling. “How long’s the train ride?”

“I don’t know, maybe five hours?” she guessed. It had been a while since she’d taken Amtrak from DC, but that sounded about right. “I already have your ticket, so you don’t have to worry about that. You just have to show up and be boyfriend material.”

“I can definitely do that, sweetheart,” he promised with a wink. He looked like he wanted to say more, but he got distracted by his phone ringing. “Sorry, let me check this.”

Nesta waited patiently for Cassian to read his notification. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just have to head out earlier than I thought I would,” he told her. He fired off a text of his own before turning his phone around to face her, the contacts app already open. “Give me your number and we can talk details later?”

“Okay,” she agreed. She took the phone from him and dutifully put in her name and number before passing it back. “Don’t blow up my phone.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t interrupt your beauty sleep,” he teased. He stood and grabbed his empty cup, taking care to push his chair in. “I’ll see you around, honey.”

Nesta rolled her eyes for what felt like the millionth time that evening. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, sweetums.”

Cassian just grinned and mock saluted her before walking away. If she stared at his ass the entire way out, that was her business.

❅❅❅❅❅

Three weeks later, Nesta rolled her luggage into Union Station and followed the familiar signs for the train to Stamford. Cassian was waiting for her just like he’d promised, looking comically out of place in the tiny waiting area seats, but he perked up when he saw her approaching him. By the time she made her way over to where he was sitting, someone announced that their train was beginning boarding, and he was already out of his seat and taking her bag from her.

“I got it,” he declared, gently taking the bag out of her grip with a rogue grin. “Gotta play the part from the beginning, right?”

“Right,” she replied with a roll of her eyes. As annoying as he could be, she appreciated not having to pull her bag even for the short walk to the train. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he responded, looking over his shoulder to wink at her.

They walked in comfortable silence to the train, Cassian having no problem with Nesta picking where they sat. She’d sprung for the business class car, wanting to be comfortable for such a long trip, and considering how much leg room Cassian needed to be comfortable she was glad she’d spent the extra money.

If only she’d known at the time she’d be bringing someone who actually needed the leg room. If Tomas could see her now.

Nesta watched as Cassian effortlessly put her bag in the overhead bin and let her take the inside seat. She murmured her thanks and settled in, sighing happily the moment she was sitting down.

“I have to get some work done, but we can get our story straight once I’m finished,” she said once he’d sat down next to her. She reached down for her briefcase and opened up her laptop, making sure to snag her earbuds so she could have something to listen to while she worked.

Cassian just nodded and put on some noise-canceling headphones while she got to work. Between the gentle rocking of the train and the calming music she was listening to, the time flew by as she finished working on the memo she’d been drafting for one of the senior partners. She was so in the zone that she barely noticed when Cassian got up, only coming back to herself when a to-go cup of hot chocolate appeared next to her laptop.

“Thank you,” Nesta said once she’d saved her document for the last time.

“No problem,” Cassian replied. He motioned to his own cup of hot chocolate with a sheepish grin. “It was complimentary.”

She huffed a laugh as she took out her earbuds, placing them back in the case before turning to face him. “So.”

“So,” he repeated. He slid his headphones off his head and down around his neck. “Where do you want to start?”

“We need to have an ironclad story when we meet my family,” she answered. “To that end, we met through Emerie and have been dating for two months.”

“Two months and you’re already bringing me to meet your family? You must be serious about me,” he teased. At her deeply unimpressed look, he sighed and relented. “Fine, two months. But you’re the one who asked me out.”

“Fine,” Nesta agreed through gritted teeth. “I asked you out and the rest is history. How do you feel about public displays of affection?”

“I’m a big fan of them,” Cassian told her with a smirk, but he quickly grew serious. “I know I joke a lot, but I don’t want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”

“I… appreciate that,” she said slowly. It was rare to meet a man so respectful of her physical boundaries — she’d had so many boyfriends tell her how cold she could be that it was a little strange to not have to argue about it. “But I’m fine with showing physical affection. I just don’t want to get too over the top in front of my family.”

“Totally understandable,” he agreed with a nod. “What kinds of affection are you comfortable with?”

“Holding hands is fine,” she answered. “I like little touches like that, and if we want to sell it to my family, we’ll have to do at least that.”

Cassian nodded. “I’m a pretty tactile guy, so that works for me. How do you feel about kissing?”

“Who said anything about that?” Nesta fired back, suddenly flustered.

“It’s what people in relationships do, sweetheart,” he replied slowly, like he was speaking to a child. “If you’re scared about kissing me, don’t be. I’ve been told I’m a great kisser.”

“I’m not scared,” she hissed, suddenly tempted to smack him upside the head. She managed to keep her hands to herself as she added, “I just don’t know what situation will come up when we’ll have to do… that.”

“I’m sure you can think of one in that big brain of yours,” he teased. He was clearly enjoying how flustered she was, but thankfully he decided to take pity on her. “How about kisses on the cheek, and if we have to kiss for real, we’ll keep our tongues to ourselves?”

“Closed mouth kisses are fine,” she agreed after a few moments. “Let’s move on to the personal details. What do you do for work?”

Over the course of the next hour, Nesta learned more about Cassian than she’d ever guessed. He was only two years older than her – thirty to her twenty-eight – and he owned the gym where Emerie attended kickboxing classes. Unlike Nesta, he was native to the DC area, having grown up in Maryland and staying in the area after graduating from college. He’d been orphaned young, but thankfully had been taken in by family friends so close he considered them brothers.

“Everybody always thinks we’re brothers, anyway, so it was just easier to go along with it,” Cassian told her with a roll of his eyes. He pulled his phone out of his pocket to show her some photos, and once she saw the three of them together, she had to agree.

“Yeah, I can definitely see the family resemblance.” She pulled out her own phone and scrolled to find a picture of her own family, careful to pick one from last year’s vacation without Tomas in it. “Since we’re talking about family, here’s mine.”

Nesta took the time to point everyone out – her father was easily identified, but the women in her family needed their own introductions. They looked so similar it could be difficult to tell everyone apart sometimes, but at least they all had different hairstyles. Eira was easy to distinguish with her snow-white hair, and Rhea had always favored a sharp, shoulder-length cut with bangs. Feyre’s hair was almost always braided back out of her face, but Elain was easy to tell apart with her brown eyes and long waves.

“Jeez, your mom’s side must have some strong genes,” Cassian joked. “It’s like your grandma just copied and pasted her face onto all of you.”

“You could say that,” she muttered. Similar faces hadn’t been the only thing to carry over from generation to generation.

Sensing her discomfort, he expertly switched the topic of conversation. “So I told you my life story. What about you?”

“Well, I’m from New York originally,” she began her spiel. “I’m the oldest of three sisters – Elain’s about a year and a half younger than me, and Feyre is four years younger. I’m a double Columbia grad, but I wanted a change after law school so I moved to DC a few years ago. I haven’t looked back since.”

“You being a lawyer makes so much sense,” he said, chuckling.

“I’m choosing to interpret that as a compliment,” she replied.

“You should.” He shifted in his seat to make himself more comfortable. “What do your sisters do?”

“Elain has her PhD in botany, and Feyre teaches painting techniques at an art school,” she answered proudly. “I’m the least interesting out of the three of us by far. What do your brothers do?”

“We’ll have to agree to disagree about you being the least interesting,” he told her with a wink, “but Azriel works in IT. Rhys helps his dad run Night Industries, if you’ve heard of them? They’re big in consulting.”

“Consulting work in DC. What a shocker,” she replied sarcastically. “Good for him, though.”

They lapsed into silence for a few moments before Cassian cleared his throat and broke it. “Well… if that’s everything for now, I’m going to take a nap. Wake me up when we get there.”

“Okay,” she agreed, not put off by the sudden end to the conversation. It was going to be a long week; she supposed they should take their breaks where they could.

The rest of the ride went by peacefully. Once Cassian was safely asleep, Nesta reached for her iPad and went back to the romance she’d started a few nights ago. She wasn’t ashamed of her reading habits, but she certainly didn’t want to give him anymore ammunition than necessary.

Once they were within fifteen minutes of the Stamford station, she gently shook him to wake him. He thanked her and started gathering her belongings, and before she knew it, they were getting up and walking through the station.

Nesta knew it was only a matter of time until they had to really start their performances, but Cassian was already in character. He automatically grabbed her bag for her and let her lead their way outside, his large body shielding her from the worst of the wind.

She hailed a cab and sighed as she shut the door behind her. “Shouldn’t be much longer now.”

“Don’t look so glum,” he replied as he clicked his seatbelt into place. “This place looks nice.”

“Appearances can be deceiving,” she answered.

Nesta told the driver the address and they settled into comfortable silence for the ride. Cassian hadn’t been lying when he said it looked nice — Old Greenwich really went all out for the holidays, and it looked like something fresh out of a Hallmark movie as they got closer to the Archerons’ home on the water.

The drive was over in a flash. Once they’d gotten out of the car and Cassian had grabbed the bags, Nesta led the way to the front of the house. As usual, the house was decorated like something out of a magazine, with lights and garland strung tastefully on the porch. There were flickering, electric candles in all the windows that they could see, and the amount of lights on suggested everyone was congregated downstairs. Great.

“Here we go,” Nesta muttered under her breath before knocking on the door.

“Nesta!” Feyre squealed as she flung open the door. Her sister looked a little thinner than the last time they’d seen each other, but Nesta lost any chance she had to keep examining Feyre the second her sister threw her arms around her. “I’m so glad you’re here. Mom’s driving me fucking insane already.”

“Hi to you too, Fey,” Nesta replied good-naturedly. She squeezed Feyre back for a few seconds before awkwardly patting her sister’s braid, silently asking for release. “This is my boyfriend, Cassian.”

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Feyre said, moving aside so she could let Nesta and Cassian inside. The inside of the house was decorated to the nines already, the gently flickering lights and tastefully placed garlands complementing the similar decorations from outside. “You’re a bit of a surprise, big guy. Nesta hasn’t said anything about you.”

“What can I say? Nes likes keeping me to herself,” Cassian replied with a wink at Nesta. She willed herself not to roll her eyes — they were supposed to be a couple — and instead smiled as convincingly as she could. “Where should I put the bags?”

“You two are in the second room off the right,” Feyre answered, motioning to the stairs behind her. Cassian nodded and gathered all their luggage, and Nesta busied herself with taking off her coat and shoes before Rhea could catch her tracking snow inside.

“Nes?” Feyre echoed the nickname once Cassian was out of earshot, raising both eyebrows at Nesta.

“Not one word,” Nesta demanded.

“I’m just saying,” Feyre replied with a twinkle in her eye. “You must really like him to let him get away with a nickname.”

Nesta rolled her eyes as she let Feyre lead the way to the living room. “What happened to not one word?”

“I never agreed to that.” Feyre grinned brazenly before raising her voice so the family could hear her. “Hey everyone, look who’s here!”

Everyone gathered turned to look at Nesta. Her parents were here, as was Tamlin, Feyre’s on-again-off-again boyfriend. Elain and Graysen hadn’t arrived yet, but Nesta’s grandmother was already eyeing her shrewdly from the corner. She looked the same as ever, not a white hair out of place in her usual chignon, and her back was perfectly straight even though she was sitting in the most comfortable chair by the fire.

“Merry Christmas, everyone,” Nesta said, forcing herself to stand tall before her grandmother could correct her posture. “It’s great to see you all.”

“Don’t tell me you came alone, Nesta,” Eira replied, her lips tightening in disappointment. So much for a normal greeting.

Thankfully, Cassian had the best timing in the world. “She didn’t, ma’am,” he said, sneaking behind her to wrap an arm around her waist.

“This is my boyfriend, Cassian,” Nesta announced to the room at large, immensely satisfied at the way everyone’s stares lingered on him. His personality could be… lacking at times, but he certainly made up for it with the way he filled out that flannel. “Cassian, this is my family.”

Unsurprisingly, her father cracked first, his brown eyes crinkling around the edges as he smiled at them. “It’s nice to meet you, Cassian.”

“The pleasure is all mine, sir,” Cassian replied. He briefly abandoned Nesta to shake her father’s hand, moving toward the sectional where her parents were sitting. “Thank you for having me.”

“Just Owain is fine,” Owain said, leaning forward to shake Cassian’s outstretched hand. Her father wasn’t a particularly small man, but next to Cassian he certainly looked it. “And I can’t claim any credit for this. It’s all my wife’s doing.”

“Then I suppose I should be thanking you, Mrs. Archeron.” Cassian pivoted flawlessly to shake Rhea’s slim hand, and Nesta heaved a sigh of relief that he’d remembered her explicit warnings about how to refer to her mother. “Thank you for having me. The house is gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” Rhea responded coolly. She shook his hand once and allowed him to continue making his rounds, but Nesta’s entire body tensed as she caught the look she exchanged with her grandmother.

“Come over here and let me get a look at you,” Eira demanded. Even in old age, her grandmother’s presence was no less fierce, and Cassian didn’t hesitate to shuffle over to where she was sitting. “Mhm. You’re a large one.”

“I come from a tall family, ma’am,” he responded earnestly. She didn’t hold out her hand to shake, but he took it in stride. “I’ll try my best not to bump my head on anything.”

“You do that,” she told him, ice-blue eyes narrowing slightly. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”

“You’ve already met me, but this is my boyfriend Tamlin,” Feyre said once Cassian made his way over to the loveseat they were sitting on. Tamlin gripped Cassian’s hand so tightly that Nesta suppressed a wince, but Cassian didn’t falter.

“Nice to meet you all,” Cassian told the room at large. “We’re still waiting on a few people, right?”

“My other daughter and her fiancé should be arriving tomorrow afternoon,” Rhea replied. She cleared her throat and motioned toward the kitchen. “Nesta, come help me get started on dinner?”

Nesta was up and out of her seat before her mother could even finish the command designed as a question. “Coming.”

Feyre shot Nesta a supportive look as she passed by the couch. At least someone here was on her side.

“He’s… different,” Rhea said once they were both inside the kitchen, already moving to take out various pots and pans. “How did you say you two met again?”

“I didn’t, but a mutual friend introduced us,” Nesta answered. She doubted her mother would remember Emerie’s name, and she didn’t want to set herself up for disappointment when Rhea inevitably failed.

“I see.” Rhea moved to the fridge and started taking out what looked like the ingredients for a roast. “And how long have you been seeing each other?”

Nesta reached for a knife and started chopping the vegetables Rhea placed in front of her before her mother could ask her to do it. “About two months.”

“A little soon to be bringing him to a family holiday, isn’t it?” Rhea asked, her voice full of judgment.

“You didn’t seem to think so when I told you I was bringing him,” Nesta replied icily. She was already fighting to keep her cool and they’d barely been here for an hour — what a surprise.

“Well, he’s already here. There’s nothing to be done about it,” Rhea said decisively, shaking her head slightly to get her bangs out of her eyes. She looked over at Nesta’s chopping board and clicked her tongue. “Those are too large, Nesta. I want them diced, not cubed.”

Nesta just sighed heavily and moved to correct the mistake. It was going to be a long trip.

❅❅❅❅❅

Dinner had been positively excruciating for Nesta, but she somehow managed to survive it without clawing her own eyes out. The moment it had been socially acceptable to do so, she’d made their excuses and dragged Cassian upstairs with her so they could get ready for bed.

Cassian showered first while Nesta unpacked her belongings, doing her best to calm down while she had a moment alone. Thankfully, he was a quick showerer, so she got to do most of the calming down under a spray of hot water.

She should’ve known better to expect the peace to last, though.

“What are you doing?” Nesta asked when she returned from her shower. Cassian was spread across one half of the bed without a care in the world, his impossibly long legs covered by a pair of plaid pajama pants.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m too damn old to be sleeping on the floor,” Cassian said with a careless flip of his hand. “What’s sharing a bed between two friends, right?”

“I don’t know if I’d go so far to call us friends,” she said back, throwing a fierce glare his way as she leaned over to plug her phone into charge.

“Sweetheart, you wound me,” he responded. He threw a hand over his forehead and sighed dramatically. “How will I ever recover—”

“Shut up and move over,” she cut him off, pulling back the comforter on her side of the bed. In a flash of inspiration, she grabbed some of the throw pillows and used them to start building a pillow wall between them. “This should do it.”

“Seriously? A pillow wall?” Cassian scoffed, incredulous. “And you said I’m the childish one.”

“That statement still holds true,” Nesta responded haughtily. Once she was satisfied with the barrier between them, she turned off her bedside lamp and got under the covers facing away from him. “Stay on your side of the bed and we won’t have any issues.”

“Aye aye, captain,” he replied. She didn’t need to be looking at him to know he was probably firing off a crisp salute, especially from the noise the sheets made as his arm moved. “Any other requests?”

She pulled the comforter up over her shoulders. “That’ll do for now.”

They laid there in silence for a few seconds before Cassian told her good night and she responded in kind. It was a little weird having someone in her bed after so long sleeping alone — especially someone she hardly knew, all things considered — but as she slowly drifted off, Nesta found maybe it wasn’t as terrible as she’d feared.

❅❅❅❅❅

The next morning, Nesta woke up to a face full of warm, hard muscle. She snuggled in before she remembered just whose chest she was laying on, and then she was jerking backwards so hard she nearly toppled off the bed.

“Good morning to you too, sweetheart,” Cassian said, clearly amused. His voice was groggy with sleep, and even Nesta couldn’t deny how much she liked the sound of it. “So much for the pillow wall, huh?”

“Shut up,” she replied shortly. She wasn’t a morning person by any means, and it was too damn early to be this talkative. “What time is it?”

“Clearly too early for you,” he joked, but he reached for his phone anyway. “It’s 8:12.”

“Too fucking early,” she grumbled. She eyed the sad remainder of her pillow wall and decided it wasn’t worth the effort of trying to rebuild it right now. “I’m going back to sleep.”

“Whatever makes you happy, sweetheart,” he told her, still way too chipper for the time. “Sweet dreams.”

Nesta ignored him and let sleep take her again. When she woke up the second time, Cassian’s side of the bed was long cold, so she shoved her feet into slippers and grabbed a robe before heading downstairs.

Her parents were nowhere to be seen, but Cassian and Feyre were talking quietly on the couch in the family toom. Her sister was still in pajamas, but he’d clearly showered and changed into his clothes for the day. They both turned at the sound of Nesta entering the room, smiles lighting up both their faces.

“Sleeping Beauty awakens,” Feyre called out, voice teasing. “Come hang out with us!”

“I’m coming,” Nesta grumbled. She tied her robe tighter around herself once she reached the bottom of the stairs and made a beeline for the couch. “Is there coffee?”

“I put on a pot when I got back from my run,” Cassian told her, still clearly enjoying how grumpy she was. That explained the shower, but she really must have been out of it if she’d completely missed him banging around the en suite. “It should still be warm.”

Nesta didn’t even bother responding, instead changing her trajectory so she was heading toward the kitchen instead. Just like he said, there was a pot of fresh coffee waiting for her, and she didn’t waste any time making herself a mug. Someone had left out the bagels, so she quickly buttered one and brought it with her.

“…so adorable in the mornings,” Cassian was saying when she returned to the family room.

“What’s adorable?” she replied, taking a deep sip of her coffee before sitting next to him on the couch.

“You, in the mornings,” he answered with a shit-eating grin. She scowled at him as she shoved a particularly vicious bite of her bagel into her mouth. “You’re so grumpy. I was just telling Feyre about how cute it is.”

Feyre’s grin only widened when Cassian casually slung an arm around Nesta’s shoulders. “Okay, you’re officially my favorite boyfriend Nesta’s ever had.”

“Is the bar really that low?” Cassian joked.

Feyre grimaced and looked at Nesta, who was thankfully saved by the arrival of Elain and her boyfriend. Rhea and Owain came through the door behind them, explaining their absence, and suddenly the house was alive with chatter where Nesta wasn’t the center of attention anymore.

“It’s so good to see you, Nesta,” Elain said as they hugged, her face adorably pink from the cold. She lived not too far outside of DC, but she traveled so often for her research that it was hard to pin her down. “And you must be the boyfriend I haven’t heard a peep about.”

Cassian just grinned before sweeping Elain into a hug. “That would be me. It’s so nice to finally meet you, Dr. Archeron.”

“Oh, just Elain is fine,” Elain replied with a chuckle. Once Cassian moved on to introduce himself to Graysen, Elain gave Nesta a we’ll be talking about this later look that Nesta did her best to ignore.

Graysen looked annoyed as usual, but as much as she didn’t care for him, at least he and Nesta were usually on the same page about how annoying Archeron family gatherings could be. Once everyone made their introductions — and Tamlin and Eira joined the fray — they decided they’d spend the day going gift shopping at the Winter Market in town before preparing for their annual Christmas Eve party.

“You don’t come with gifts already?” Cassian asked once they were back upstairs. He was already showered and dressed, so really Nesta was the only one who had to get ready between the two of them.

“For my sisters, yes,” Nesta answered. She looked away from picking an outfit to vaguely motion toward the corner she’d placed their gifts in. “But for everyone else, we usually just buy things while we’re here. It’s usually just better to wait and see who actually shows up.”

“That’s so crazy,” he replied, shaking his head. “In my family, the only way you can get away with keeping your gifts secret is by buying them way in advance. They’re some nosy motherfukers, but I love them.”

Nesta just snorted before heading into the bathroom to take her shower. When she emerged twenty minutes later dressed and ready to go, Cassian slid his phone back into his pocket and motioned for her to lead the way.

“Oh good, you’re ready,” Rhea said when they came back downstairs. They were the last ones to come downstairs, and Nesta was easily distracted from firing off a retort by the feeling of Cassian’s arm sliding across her shoulders. “There’s a lot of us, so we’ll take two cars. You two can ride with us.”

Nesta found herself sandwiched between her father and her pretend-boyfriend during the car ride, and spent the entire drive trying to hold Cassian’s hand like a regular person instead of using his stupidly-warm hand as a stress ball. Being this close in proximity to her mother and grandmother stressed her out like nothing else, and if Cassian had any complaints about how strong her grip was, he certainly didn’t voice them. If anything, he squeezed her hand a few times back in reassurance.

“We’ll meet back at home for lunch, yes?” Rhea said once they’d parked a few blocks away from the market.

“Yes, Mom,” Nesta agreed, wincing at the sudden blast of cold wind. Cassian immediately stepped closer to shield her from it, somehow completely unbothered by the way both Rhea and Eira narrowed their eyes.

“And keep your… displays appropriate,” Eira added, her face tight with disapproval. “There are families here, you know.”

“I’m sure they’re familiar with affection, ma’am,” Cassian responded before Nesta could even open her mouth. He kept his voice light as he defiantly wrapped an arm around Nesta. “We’ll see you all at lunch.”

Nesta was powerless once he started walking, and she threw a half-hearted wave over her shoulder before paying attention to where they were going. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” he replied easily, becoming more relaxed the further they got away from her family. “Are they always like that?”

“Pretty much,” she answered. “You see why I couldn’t show up empty handed now?”

“Screw being empty handed, you need a buffer,” he scoffed. “They’re ridiculous. It’s not like we’re fucking in broad daylight.”

Thankfully, they were far enough away from the Winter Market that no one overheard the profanity. Once they got into the thick of the crowd, Nesta let herself be tugged from stall to stall, eyeing the many handmade goods on offer.

“These are pretty,” Cassian said, pointing out some earrings at one of the jewelry stalls. “I think I’ll get something from here.”

By the time Cassian had finished picking out some earrings and bracelets for the women in his life back home, Feyre and Elain managed to find them in the crowd. Nesta sighed in relief at the sight of them, waving them over once she recognized Elain’s familiar puffy hat. “Oh, thank God.”

“The car ride was that bad, huh?” Elain replied sympathetically. Graysen and Tamlin were nowhere to be seen, so at least the three of them could speak freely for now. “I felt for you, I really did, but not enough to offer myself up.”

“Please, you practically sprinted out toward the car,” Feyre shot back with a roll of her eyes.

“I honestly don’t know how I’m going to survive the week,” Nesta responded, sighing heavily. “It’s only been one night and I’m fantasizing about going back home.”

“No, don’t say that,” Elain said. She reached out to squeeze Nesta’s hand with her own gloved one. “I know it’s hard, but I never get to see you two at the same time.”

“I know, I know.” Nesta squeezed Elain’s hand before letting go. “I’ll stick it out. I’ll just hate every minute of it.”

“Hopefully not every minute,” Cassian chimed in from next to her. Nesta turned to see him standing there with a gift bag, holding out his hand expectantly. “I can’t be that bad, sweetheart.”

“I guess you’re fine,” Nesta begrudgingly joked, easily falling into her role. She took his outstretched hand and turned back to her sisters, who were looking at her like they’d never seen her before. “Okay, where to next?”

By the time they made it to the end of the market, Nesta’s credit card balance was considerably higher, and Cassian’s hands were significantly fuller with purchases. She’d gotten a new cookbook for her mother, some woodcutting carvings for her father, and a set of fancy soaps for her grandmother. She’d even felt generous enough to buy Cassian a nice, soft sweater while he’d been distracted talking to Tamlin and Graysen, figuring it was the least she could do.

Besides, she didn’t know what kind of outfits he’d packed for the trip. He’d probably need to wear it tonight for the party anyway.

❅❅❅❅❅

A few hours later, Nesta found herself on one of the second floor balconies, shivering on the small couch as she took a much-needed break from her mother. She’d already been chewed out for somehow not following Rhea’s instructions to the tee, and that had been before her grandmother had a chance to join in. Nesta had fled up the stairs the moment she caught a whiff of Eira’s perfume, mumbling something about needing to use the bathroom, and hadn’t even thought to grab her coat before coming up here.

God, it was freezing. She’d only been up here for a few minutes, but she was seriously reconsidering heading inside soon. She could always hide in one of the bathrooms instead, right? Make her lie more believable?

Nesta turned at the sound of the balcony door opening, sighing in relief to see Cassian standing there with two steaming mugs of what smelled like hot chocolate. “Cassian?”

“The one and only,” he replied with a grin. He gently placed the mugs down on the coffee table and rummaged around one of the storage cubes for a blanket, taking great care to tuck all the soft edges around Nesta’s shivering form. “What are you doing out here all by yourself, sweetheart?”

“Hiding,” she muttered, reaching for the hot chocolate so she could warm herself back up. He’d made it perfectly, and she sighed happily as she took a deep sip. “What are you doing out here?”

“Looking for you, obviously.” He sat down next to her and she almost cried at how warm he was. “I’m just glad I found you before the drinks got cold.”

“I’m surprised my mother let you escape long enough to even make them,” she replied bitterly. Rhea had no qualms about ordering everyone around, even the people not related to her. Last Nesta had heard, Cassian had been conscripted to help bring in firewood for the giant fireplace in the sitting room.

“Well, her opinion doesn’t matter as much to me,” he responded, thankfully leaving the not as much as it does to you unspoken. “And neither does your grandmother’s, if I’m being honest. I know it’s easier said than done, but you don’t need their approval to be the perfect woman or whatever bullshit you had to grow up with.”

“Easy for you to say,” she mumbled. “You’re not related to them, and even if you were, you’re a man.”

“Yeah, but all that means is I recognize a badass woman when I see one,” he told her earnestly. “I’m serious, Nesta. You’re intelligent, you’re successful, and you’re gorgeous on top of it. It drives me crazy that they nag you so much when you’re already so accomplished. Maybe my definition of success is different from theirs, but from where I’m sitting...”

Nesta’s cheeks were burning from all the sudden praise. “You don’t have to make me feel better, Cassian. Nobody’s watching.”

“I don’t care that we don’t have an audience,” Cassian replied, shifting closer. “Maybe I just want to make you feel good regardless.”

She didn’t know what to say back to that, but she could feel herself getting caught in the pull of his hazel eyes. His gaze quickly darted down to her lips, which were parted slightly like she expected something from him, and she tilted her head ever so slightly to make the angle easier—

The sound of the balcony door hitting the side of the house abruptly shattered the moment, and Nesta jerked back from Cassian to see Tamlin standing there awkwardly with an unlit cigarette in hand. “Shit, didn’t see you two out here.”

“It’s all good, man,” Cassian replied easily. He shot an unreadable look at Nesta before standing and offering her his hand, which she took before grabbing her forgotten mug of hot chocolate. “We should be heading back inside anyway.”

He grabbed his own mug and led them past Tamlin, who at least had the decency to shut the door behind them before he started smoking. They didn’t speak until they were back in their shared room.

“I’m… going to get changed,” Nesta said, still not sure how to feel about what had just happened. What had almost just happened.

“Okay. I’ll take these downstairs,” Cassian replied while motioning to their mugs. “I’ll see if I can spike them or something. I’m sure we’ll need it.”

“Wait,” she told him, feeling awkward but deciding to power through it anyway. “I, um… you should wear this. Instead.”

He watched as she headed toward the gift corner and grabbed the sweater she’d bought for him earlier. It was dark green and soft and she hoped she wasn’t imagining the way his eyes lit up when she handed it to him. “Here. My mother would have an aneurysm if you wore plaid.”

“Thanks, Nes,” he replied after a moment, seeming genuinely touched. Then his brow furrowed as he motioned to the flannel he was wearing. “But what’s wrong with what I have on?”

She just rolled her eyes and grabbed her own change of clothes to take with her into the bathroom. “Just put it on, Cassian.”

When she emerged wearing a cream sweater dress and tights he was already gone, but judging by the heap of fabric he’d left his flannel in, he must’ve changed into the sweater she’d given him. The mugs were gone too, but in their place were a pretty pair of gold earrings from the same vendor he’d bought things from earlier.

Nesta didn’t hesitate to put them on, shifting her usual earrings around so the new ones were on full display. She hadn’t expected him to get her a gift, appearances aside, and she certainly hadn’t expected to like it so much.

Just another perk of having a fake boyfriend around, she supposed. She shoved down the very real feelings she had bubbling up from the gift and went back into her closet to pull on the boots she’d brought, taking her time to make sure she was pulled together enough to face Cassian and her family.

When Nesta made it downstairs, it appeared the party was about to begin. Rhea seemed to have gone into full hostess mode, Owain already had a glass of scotch in hand, and Eira was bossing Elain and Feyre around for once instead of Nesta. She didn’t want to get caught up in all the craziness, so she looked around for someone worth talking to and sighed in relief when she spotted Cassian.

He looked handsome in his new sweater, and with the way it highlighted all those muscles, Nesta was grateful to her past self about deciding to size down. He lit up when he saw her approach, his grin softening into something like fondness when he noticed she was wearing the earrings. “Do you like them?”

“They’re lovely,” Nesta answered truthfully, gently touching a hand to her ear. “Thank you.”

“I was going to give them to you tomorrow, but someone spring her gift on me early,” he responded cheekily. He reached for her hand and she let him take it, firmly ignoring how good his warmth felt against her cool skin. “You look beautiful, Nesta.”

“Thank you,” she replied, feeling a bit like a broken record. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

They were interrupted by guests starting to arrive, and Nesta threw herself into being the perfect, doting girlfriend. It wasn’t that hard when it seemed Cassian was just as eager to pretend, always noticing when her glass was almost empty or she needed an out from whatever conversation her parents’ friends had dragged her into. If anything, it was almost too easy, especially with how easily he touched her — a hand on her waist, the sweep of his thumb against the back of her palm, the way he’d lean over to whisper a joke in her ear.

By the time Rhea had called the room to attention for a toast, Nesta wasn’t anywhere near as on edge as she usually was during these kinds of events. Crowds stressed her out, especially those filled with people whose opinions her mother valued, but even as a fake boyfriend Cassian had been a stable presence at her side.

“Thank you all for coming out tonight,” Rhea began, a glass of champagne in her left hand. She looked beautiful in a dark blue dress that brought out the blue in her eyes and highlighted her slim figure. “I’m always so grateful to have both family and friends by my side each year, and I couldn’t imagine going through life without any of your support. Merry Christmas, everyone! Enjoy!”

“Merry Christmas,” Nesta murmured with the rest of the room.

Before she could take a sip, Cassian clinked his glass against hers with a wink. “Merry Christmas.”

For whatever reason, she couldn’t help but blush, and she quickly looked away from him before taking a sip from her glass. She didn’t know what was wrong with her, but between what happened on the balcony earlier and now this, she was feeling all sorts of off-kilter.

The rest of the party passed much in the same way. Nesta felt increasingly off-kilter the longer they stood there and mingled, and with every gentle touch and sweet compliment that Cassian gave her, she only felt even more wrong-footed. What was wrong with her? One almost kiss and she was suddenly falling apart. She needed to pull herself together.

She would’ve been successful, too, if not for the dancing that started about an hour and half into the party.

“We should get out there,” Cassian said during one of their rare breaks from mingling. Feyre and Tamlin had started shuffling around the makeshift dance floor, and clearly Cassian was getting ideas. “Dance with me?”

“What?” Nesta asked, not sure if she’d heard him right. She wasn’t a bad dancer by any means, but the idea of putting herself into the spotlight at a family gathering made her want to curl up into a ball and disappear.

“Dance with me,” Cassian repeated, holding his hands out. “I promise I won’t step on your toes.”

Nesta sighed and set her champagne flute down. “Fine. But if you step on my feet, you’re absolutely sleeping on the floor tonight.”

He just laughed and took her hand, gently pulling her toward the dance floor. She wrapped both her arms around his neck and did her best not to melt into his hands as he gently placed them around her wasit, but it was a losing battle from the moment she felt that warmth through her dress.

“See, I’m not so bad,” he said as they swayed to the beat of the song.

“Whatever you say,” she replied, rolling her eyes. He really wasn’t as bad as she’d feared; so far, he hadn’t come close to stepping on her feet, and she sent a silent prayer up to whoever’d taught him to at least manage a decent shuffle. “I guess we can’t all be trained dancers.”

“Are you saying you’re a trained dancer?” he asked, delight creeping into his voice.

“Yes,” she grumbled, pretending she didn’t notice just how excited he was about it. “Don’t mention it to my mom, I’m sure she still has photos somewhere.”

Cassian’s grin somehow stretched even wider at this new information. “You’re not doing a good job of convincing me, sweetheart.”

“Just shut up and stay on beat,” Nesta told him. It was a hollow criticism and they both knew it, but she needed something to say.

His grin faded into something much softer, and she forced herself to look away from him before she did something stupid. Instead, she let herself get closer to him so she could rest her head on his shoulder, and he immediately shifted his hands to rest more comfortably around her waist.

As they gently swayed to the song, it was like the entire party faded to the background. Nesta’s focus narrowed to the smell of Cassian’s cologne, to the warmth of his skin, and long after they stopped dancing she swore she was still able to feel the weight of his hands on her.

❅❅❅❅❅

The next morning, Christmas dawned bright and early in the Archeron household. Nesta didn’t have the luxury of sleeping in today, and she dutifully showered and made her way downstairs so that she could help Rhea and Eira in the kitchen. Cassian was hot on her heels, not bothering to shower before he could get some coffee in him.

Her sisters were already awake and sitting on the couch, both of them curled up with steaming mugs of tea and coffee while Miracle on 34th Street played on the TV in front of them.

“Look up,” Elain said, giggling as she spotted the two of them standing in the arched entryway to the family room.

Nesta held in her groan as she realized she and Cassian had walked underneath some mistletoe. Rhea wasn’t too crazy about using it in her decorations, so Nesta figured one of her sisters was to blame.

“Well would you look at that,” Cassian replied with a grin. He was far too chipper this early in the morning, and by the way his smile widened, he was enjoying her morning mood way more than she was. “Pucker up, sweetheart.”

He moved slowly enough that she had a few extra seconds to prepare herself to be kissed, but thankfully he remembered their conversation on the train. That didn’t make his lips any less soft against hers, even if it was just a quick peck.

“What kind of kiss was that?” Feyre exclaimed once they’d broken apart.

“An appropriate one?” Nesta replied, using her annoyance to try and mask the way her lips were still tingling. “I’m not making out with my boyfriend for your amusement.”

“No one said you had to make out with him,” Elain tried to reassure her, jumping in before Feyre could open her mouth with a retort. “It was just a little… boring?”

“Oh, we can’t have that,” Cassian said, rising to the challenge. He turned back to Nesta with a challenging gleam in his eye. “Care for a redo, Nes?”

Nesta saw the way her sisters were exchanging glances and knew she’d been outmatched. “Fine. But don’t get too carried away.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he responded.

Nesta squeaked in surprise as Cassian reached for her and dipped her, his hands warm and solid against her back as he effortlessly supported her weight. She tilted her head slightly so their noses wouldn’t bump as they kissed again, this time both of them parting their lips without thought as they put on a show worthy of any audience. It felt so good to kiss him that she even chased his lips for a moment after he moved back, earning a quick peck before he gently pulled her back up to a standing position.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” Feyre said smugly.

“Whatever,” Nesta grumbled. She felt warm all over and she needed to remove herself from the situation before she did anything really stupid, like try to kiss Cassian again. “I have to help Mom in the kitchen.”

“And I have to call my brothers,” Cassian said, reaching for his phone.

“Uh huh,” Elain replied with a knowing look at both of them. “Have fun working on Christmas Day.”

“She’ll come for you soon enough,” Nesta told her with a knowing look. “Enjoy your freedom while it lasts, little sisters.”

True to her word, Nesta continued into the kitchen to help Rhea and Eira get started on the cooking. She was usually entrusted to make some of the side dishes, like the mashed potatoes or some of the vegetables, while Rhea and Eira handled the more important dishes. By the time her mother and grandmother put her to work, Nesta had mostly forgotten about the way Cassian had kissed her, and her lips had almost stopped tingling.

That went right up in smoke when Rhea decided to recruit the men to help with collecting firewood. Owain was automatically exempt considering the way his knee tended to act up in cold weather, but Cassian, Tamlin, and Graysen were rounded up and ordered to chop up some of the firewood that had been drying out in the shed outside.

“Oh, I love this part,” Elain whispered to Feyre, the two of them giggling as they worked on making pastries. Elain had decided to make individual creme brûlées this year, and Feyre had been more than happy to wield the blowtorch.

The kitchen had large windows on the far side that looked over the backyard, so all the women had excellent views as the men started hauling over the dried-out wood. Everyone had on coats at first, but by the time the axes started swinging, everyone had shed down to their thinnest layers because of how hard they were working. Nesta wasn’t paying much attention to her sisters’ partners — Tamlin was fine enough to look at, but Graysen was a little lean for her personal tastes.

Cassian, however.

The man was a walking wet dream and he knew it. All that time he clearly spent in the gym showed with every sure swing of his ax, and Nesta was viciously reminded of how badly she’d wanted to climb him like a tree when she’d first seen his photos. When he lifted up his shirt to wipe some of the sweat off his brow, she nearly mashed her own finger into the bowl of potatoes she was working on. Feyre snickered at her near-miss, but how could Nesta help it when her fake boyfriend looked like that?

“Stay focused, Nesta,” Rhea lazily reprimanded her from where she was working on glazing the ham. “Surely you’ve seen it all before.”

“Yep,” Nesta replied, gritting her teeth as she forced herself to look away from Cassian’s gleaming body. She focused all that energy on the mashed potatoes instead, and if they came out smoother than usual this year, who was to say she couldn’t channel her feelings into something productive?

Eventually, all the food was prepared, and the sisters were shooed out of the kitchen so they could all start getting ready to eat. Nesta managed to beat Cassian upstairs in time for a shower, and when she emerged in a cloud of steam, he was lounging on the floor with his feet laying against the top of the bed.

“What are you doing on the floor?” Nesta blurted out, confused.

“Outside clothes on the bed are gross,” Cassian replied with a roll of his eyes. He righted himself and sat up. “You done in the bathroom? I feel disgusting.”

“It’s all yours,” she told him. She had to hold back a squeak as he stood and pulled his shirt off in one fluid motion, all that golden brown muscle suddenly on display nearly sending her into cardiac arrest.

“Great, thanks,” he responded like she wasn’t struggling to retain higher function. He started walking toward the bathroom, and just when she thought she’d escaped, he turned and added, “Close your mouth, sweetheart. You’ll attract flies.”

“Oh, fuck you,” she snapped. He just laughed before shutting the door behind him, and the shower started up a few moments later.

❅❅❅❅❅

Christmas dinner was practically uneventful compared to what had happened this morning. The fire was burning warm and bright thanks to the men’s efforts, and the food tasted delicious thanks to the women’s work in the kitchen. Cassian praised Nesta’s cooking to no end, and she was just as quick to compliment his wood-cutting skills.

Eventually, all the food was eaten and the party moved to the family room. Owain started another fire while everyone started passing out gifts. Nesta was pleased to have received a signed copy of one of her favorite books from Feyre and two tickets to an orchestra performance at the Kennedy Center from Elain. Her sisters were equally happy with her gifts — new art supplies for Feyre, and a book about the language of flowers for Elain — and everything was going well until it came time to exchange gifts with Rhea and Eira.

Owain had been easy enough to shop for; he let out a happy noise at the new wood carvings Nesta had gotten him from the Winter Market. Nesta had kept things simple for her mother and grandmother, figuring she could never go wrong with jewelry, and let out a relieved breath when neither of them made a negative comment about their gifts.

Nesta had been happy enough with the spa day they’d given her together until they decided to open their mouths about it.

“You’ve been looking a little tired, Nesta,” Rhea commented, immediately destroying any goodwill she’d managed to cultivate with that simple sentence. “You’re getting older, you know. You want to make sure you’re aging gracefully.”

Cassian laughed incredulously, somehow managing to miss every single abort mission glare that Nesta was sending his way. “She’s only twenty-eight!”

“Fine lines wait for no one,” Eira responded, pursing her lips. “I’ve made an appointment for you with my esthetician, Nesta. If you act quickly, you should be able to reverse things before it’s too late.”

“I think you look gorgeous no matter how many fine lines you might have,” Cassian retorted, narrowing his eyes at Eira before turning to look at Nesta with a reassuring smile. “Not that I notice those kinds of things. Your face is perfectly smooth.”

“Nice save,” Feyre muttered under her breath.

Nesta’s heart pounded in her ears as both her mother and her grandmother looked at her, and the weight of the judgment in those gray-blue eyes was nearly too much to bear until she remembered Cassian’s words from the other night.

“Thank you, Grandmother, but that’s alright,” Nesta said slowly. She felt like she was going to throw up from how wrong it felt to say no to Eira, but she would feel even worse knowing she’d failed to stand up for herself in front of Cassian. “Besides, I haven’t lived in New York in years. It would be a bit of a hassle for me with my work schedule.”

Eira’s eyes grew even colder as she stared at Nesta. “I see.”

“Who wants more wine?” Elain suddenly interrupted, glancing around the room a little desperately. “Nesta, come help me refill everyone’s glasses.”

Thankful beyond words for her sister’s intervention, Nesta got up and went to help Elain with whatever she needed in the kitchen.

“God, she drives me crazy,” Elain seethed as they went into the pantry to grab more wine. “I don’t know how you stand it, Nesta.”

“I’ve had lots of practice,” Nesta replied, thinking of all the nasty comments she’d been forced to let roll off her back growing up. “It’s fine, Lainey. Really.”

“It’s not, but whatever,” Elain responded with a heavy sigh. “I really like this Cassian guy, though. It’s nice watching him stand up for you.”

“Yeah, he really doesn’t take anyone’s bullshit,” Nesta commented. It was nice, especially in contrast to Tomas, who absolutely would’ve agreed with Rhea and Eira had he been invited on the trip still. “It’s… different, but a good different.”

“He’s even more my favorite now,” Elain said, grinning. She reached for a random bottle of red and grabbed a decanter. “He’s definitely a keeper.”

Nesta just smiled, the only one here in on the joke. “I think so, too.”

Thankfully, once the two of them returned to the main room, the conversation seemed to have moved on. Cassian immediately threw an arm around her and started rubbing comforting patterns into her shoulder, and Nesta learned into him without even thinking about it.

By the time the rest of the gifts were dispersed, she was more than ready to go back upstairs. Today had been a ridiculously long day, and she didn’t know how many more helpful comments she could take from Rhea and Eira without really going off the deep end.

“Are they really always like that?” Cassian asked once they were back in the safety of their room. “I know we talked about this before, but I really can’t wrap my head around that.”

“Yeah,” Nesta answered. She still felt strange after telling Eira no like that, and it was like her body couldn’t handle the change in routine. “They’ve always been… harder on me since I’m the oldest.”

“There’s being hard on your child, and then there’s whatever the hell that was,” he fumed. “For fuck’s sake, you’re twenty-eight. You don’t even have wrinkles for them to be fucking complaining about!”

“Thanks,” she told him wryly. It was adorable seeing him get so worked up on her behalf, and strangely enough, she found herself relaxing the more agitated he seemed to get.

“And even if you did, so what?” he continued, starting to pace around the room now. “You’d still be gorgeous anyway. Wrinkles and lines and all that bullshit are a sign of a life well-lived!”

“You clearly have a different definition of a life well-lived than they do,” she replied wryly. It was honestly adorable seeing him get so worked up on her behalf. “They wanted me to have a very different life than I ended up getting, so… they just try to control me wherever they can get away with it, really.”

“That’s fucked up,” Cassian said seriously.

“Yeah, well.” Nesta shrugged as she started taking off her accessories, the two of them moving around one another like they’d been doing it for much longer than a few days. “We only have a few days left of this and then we can go home. At least now I have the option of leaving.”

“On a scale from one to ten, how bad did they fuck you up?” he asked, aiming for levity.

She rolled her eyes before disappearing into the bathroom to change. “That’s between me and my therapist.”

When she came back out, Cassian had also changed into his pajamas. He slipped past her so he could use the bathroom, and when he came out he raised both eyebrows when he noticed Nesta in bed without the pillow wall. “No pillow fortress tonight?”

“No,” she answered. She took advantage of the way she needed to turn her face away to plug in her phone to charge, hoping that he wouldn’t be able to see her blush. “It’s been a long day, and it’s too much effort.”

“Amen to that,” he replied. He turned off all the lights and managed to find his way to his side of the bed without bumping into anything. “Well, at least the hard part’s over, right?”

“Yeah,” she said with a sigh. Silence fell between them for a few moments before she gathered the courage to talk again. “I wanted to say thank you. About… earlier. You didn’t have to defend me like that.”

“I know,” he told her, the sheets sliding together as he shrugged. “I did it because I wanted to.”

Nesta didn’t know how to respond to that, so she didn’t. She just muttered a good night and rolled over so she could fall asleep without the weight of Cassian’s eyes on her.

❅❅❅❅❅

Now that the main holiday festivities were over, Nesta could focus on taking advantage of the fun winter activities she hadn’t gotten to do since last year. Cassian was more than happy to come with her, and if he looked hotter than usual with his cheeks flushed from the cold, that was between her and whatever god was listening.

The day after Christmas was mostly spent lounging around and enjoying leftovers, but once Tuesday the 27th revealed a fresh coat of snow on the property, Feyre got it into her head that they should have a couples’ snowball fight.

“It’ll be so much fun,” Feyre wheedled until Nesta finally gave in. “Yay! You have an hour to get your forts ready.”

Tamlin just snorted before making eye contact with Cassian. “The things they rope us into.”

“Speak for yourself,” Cassian said back, eyes already gleaming with challenge. “I’ve been snowball fighting since I was a little kid. You two won’t know what hit you.”

Nesta was more than happy to let Cassian take the lead after a declaration like that. He eyed the empty backyard with near-military precision before settling on a corner of the yard with a firm nod.

“You start making snowballs, and I’ll work on shoring up our defenses,” he instructed her seriously.

“Sir, yes, sir,” she replied, snapping up a perfect salute. If she got a little thrill out

He just rolled his eyes. “Get to work, private.”

Nesta rolled her eyes right back but complied with Cassian’s instructions anyways. By the time she’d managed to assemble an arsenal of snowballs, he’d managed to construct a serious looking wall of snow big enough for them to duck down behind once snowballs started flying. Feyre and Tamlin and Elain and Graysen had built similar looking defenses, but Nesta could definitely say none of them looked as good as her and Cassian’s.

“So are you just freakishly good at snowball fights, or is there a reason behind that?” Nesta asked as she made yet another snowball. Thank God she’d decided to wear the thickest gloves she owned; her fingers would’ve frozen off fifteen minutes ago otherwise.

“My brothers and I usually have a snowball fight every year,” Cassian answered, his voice turning fond. “This is the first year I’ve had to miss it in a while. I hope Azriel kicks Rhys’ ass.”

“Oh,” she replied, that wrong-footed feeling suddenly returning. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you miss it.”

“Don’t feel bad, sweetheart,” he said, managing to correctly interpret the way she was feeling with just a look. “I knew I would miss it when I said yes, and it’s just a snowball fight. We’ll just have another one when I get back.”

The snowball fight picked up pretty soon after that, leaving no room for conversation other that didn’t include taunting their enemies. Cassian had a killer aim, but Nesta had the competitive spirit that came with being an Archeron.

“That’s for ruining my favorite jacket!” Nesta yelled as she hurled a snowball at Feyre. Her sister managed to duck out of the way just in time, laughing hard as she nearly brained herself on her defensive wall.

“I never touched that ugly thing!” Feyre shouted back. “Elain’s the one who took it!”

“Nesta, Nesta, I’m sorry!” Elain shrieked with laughter as Nesta completely abandoned their snow fort so she could dump ice down Elain’s back. “Fuck, that’s freezing!”

“That’s the point,” Nesta replied with a smug grin. She flipped Elain off before running back to the safety of her snow fort, Cassian already laughing as she returned.

They all managed to get some lucky shots in, but in the end, her sisters were no match for the team Nesta and Cassian made. He was like a machine as he kept throwing snowballs, and she had no shame in aiming for the body parts he wouldn’t out of his self-described “snowball fight code of honor.”

By the time they all trudged back into the garage, Nesta’s hair was soaking wet from a hit from Elain, Cassian’s front was similarly soaked through from all the hits he’d protected Nesta from, and everyone was red-faced and laughing as they slowly took off their thick coats and snow pants.

“That was so much fun,” Nesta said before they all went their separate ways to clean up. “Thanks, Fey.”

“I’m glad you liked it,” Feyre replied, shooting a big grin Nesta’s way. “And Cassian, you better be back here next year so we can have a rematch.”

“You mean another chance for me to kick your ass?” Cassian shot back with his own grin. “Whatever you say, Feyre.”

The two of them trash talked each other all the way up the stairs, Nesta and Tamlin making eye contact and fondly shaking their heads at the sight. The perils of being attracted to competitive idiots with big heads, she supposed.

Once everyone had showered and changed into warm, dry clothes, the rest of the day went by without too much fuss. Nesta caught up on some work she hadn’t finished on the train ride over in the office, and Cassian pulled out a book to keep her company. The sound of pages flipping was comforting to her as she continued drafting her memo, and she was so in the zone that she didn’t even realize he’d left to bring her some more hot chocolate until he was pressing the mug into her hand.

“Thank you,” Nesta told him absent-mindedly, taking the mug from him. She placed it on the desk in front of her and grabbed his arm, pulling him in so she could press a kiss to the inside of his wrist without thinking.

Cassian made a happy noise before leaning down to press his own kiss to her temple. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

She didn’t realize what she’d done until a few minutes had gone by, and then she was panicking. Oh God, he probably thought she was being weird, especially since they didn’t have an audience to put on a show for, but she couldn’t help the way he made her feel warm all over and how badly she wanted—

“Relax, Nes,” he called out softly from his side of the room, effortlessly interrupting her train of thought. “I can hear you overthinking from here. I liked it.”

“Okay,” she eventually replied, her cheeks still burning at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. She didn’t know how she’d manage to get back to work with the taste of his skin still on her lips, but she had to at least try.

❅❅❅❅❅

Wednesday turned out to be the most relaxed day of all. Even more snow came down overnight, so Graysen suggested everyone stay inside for a Christmas movie marathon, a suggestion that their group readily agreed to.

“By the time this week is over, I think I’ll be more hot chocolate than water,” Nesta teased as Cassian appeared with yet another steaming mug.

“Let me enjoy my love language, dammit,” Cassian replied playfully. He took a giant sip out of her mug and made a big show of licking his lips before handing it over. “Mhmmmm.”

“You literally have your own mug,” she told him, rolling her eyes as he sat down next to her. They’d commandeered the loveseat for themselves, while her sisters and their partners were stuck sharing the sectional.

“Yeah, but taking from yours tastes better,” he responded with a wink. He gently placed his mug on the side table and worked to make sure the blanket she’d pulled out covered both of them. “You’re more than welcome to have some of mine if it’ll make you feel better.”

“It will,” she said primly. He just chuckled before handing the mug back over, his eyes crinkling around the edges as he watched her take a sip. “Thank you.”

Feyre cleared her throat to get the room’s attention once Nesta and Cassian were done going back and forth over their hot chocolates. “Okay, so I think we should start with Elf.”

“What about Miracle on 34th Street?” Graysen asked, earning an eye roll from his fiancée.

“We already watched that one,” Elain answered as she squeezed his thigh. “Can we watch Home Alone after Elf?”

“I hate that movie,” Nesta chimed in with a huff.

“We know,” Feyre said, rolling her eyes.

“What about The Grinch?” Cassian suggested. He threw an arm around Nesta’s shoulders before waggling his eyebrows suggestively at the rest of the room. “Reminds me of someone I know.”

“Shut up,” Nesta replied, elbowing him in the side. “I have a heart of gold and I love Christmas, thank you very much.”

“Stop flirting so we can stay focused, please,” Elain ordered with a smile. “We can add all of those to the list.”

“I will exchange Home Alone for The Santa Clause movies,” Nesta grudgingly offered. Elain whooped and clapped her hands together, and before long everyone was snuggled on their respective couches as the first movie began to play.

As the day wore on, Nesta slowly ended up further and further into Cassian’s arms. She dozed off during the first Santa Clause movie, and when she came to during the opening credits of The Grinch, Cassian was absent-mindedly running his fingers through her hair while she used him as a human pillow.

“Sorry,” she whispered. She moved to get up, but his arms tightened around her to hold her in place. “I’m probably crushing you.”

“Don’t move,” he whispered back. “I’m comfortable.”

She took him at his word and settled back down, sighing happily as he resumed carding his fingers through her hair. She hadn’t bothered with her usual coronet today, instead leaving it loose around her shoulders since she knew they’d mostly be lounging around, and she thanked her earlier self for making that decision. She felt so warm and safe in his arms, and the soothing feeling of his fingers easily carried her back to sleep.

When she came to the second time, the sun was significantly lower in the sky and her stomach was growling something fierce. Love, Actually was playing on the screen, but given the empty sectional, the movie marathon had clearly been abandoned for other activities.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Cassian murmured once he realized she was awake. “Or maybe I should be saying good evening?”

“Ugh,” Nesta replied as she sat up. “What time is it?”

“It’s almost six,” he answered. “You’ve gotta be starving. Want me to grab you a plate?”

“Yeah, that would be great,” she agreed. “Thanks.”

Nesta missed Cassian’s warmth the moment it left her, but thankfully he didn’t take long. He made her a huge plate with a little bit of everything on it, and the two of them shared it in comfortable silence.

“Where’d everyone else go?” Nesta asked once her stomach wasn’t trying to eat itself.

“They’re all out to dinner,” Cassian answered. “I told them we’d be okay here. I didn’t want to wake you up, and I figured you didn’t want the third degree from your mom again anyways.”

“Very astute of you,” she told him. She didn’t want to think about how it made her feel that he’d just let her sleep on him for hours, so she changed the conversation topic. “Did you want to finish this movie?”

“Hell yeah,” he said with a grin. “I love rom coms.”

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for the type,” she said back, and then sighed heavily once she realized the opening she’d left him. “Don’t you dare make the joke I know you’re thinking of.”

He just laughed. “Hey, your mind went there first. But what can I say? I’m a romantic at heart.”

“I never would’ve guessed,” she responded dryly. He just laughed again and reached for the remote, turning up the volume slightly so they could turn their attention back to the movie.

Nesta was much more self-conscious about cuddling into Cassian this time, but he made an annoyed noise before bodily moving her back into the position she’d been in before he’d gotten up to get them food. It was a show of strength that really got to her in the best way, but over her dead body would she admit that to him right now. Or ever.

Eventually she relaxed back into his arms, making her own noise this time — a happy one — when he started stroking her back gently through her pajama shirt.

“That feels nice,” Nesta mumbled into his chest. Between the only source of light in the room being the Christmas decorations and the comforting weight of his hand on her, he was making it difficult to stay awake.

“Good,” Cassian replied, amusement slipping into his voice. “You deserve nice things, sweetheart.”

“Yeah?” she responded. Something about the way his voice had gone soft made her look up at him, shifting her attention away from the movie they were barely watching to what she really wanted to look at.

“Yeah,” he echoed softly. His eyes were shining with something she couldn’t quite place, but it only served to make him even more handsome. “Is it crazy that I want to be the one giving them to you?”

“Maybe a little,” she whispered, her heart pounding ferociously in her chest. He couldn’t be saying what she thought he was saying… right?

“I like you a lot, Nesta,” Cassian said after a moment, shifting them so she was still in his arms but they could make eye contact. “I don’t know how you haven’t figured it out with that big brain of yours, but...”

“What?” Nesta replied, continuing to feel like her brain was short-circuiting a little bit. He wanted her? “Since when?”

“Since the first time I saw you?” he responded like it was obvious. “Did you think I was just doing all this out of the goodness of my heart?”

She just stared at him for a few moments. “Yes?”

“You must think I’m a way better person than I am, then,” he told her, laughing as he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I like you, and I know you like me too no matter how much you try to act like you don’t.”

“But I’m…” she trailed off, her voice uncertain. There was no way a man like that actually wanted her, especially after what he’d seen this week. “You just spent the last few days learning how much of a mess I am and how much my family sucks. Are you sure you didn’t lose some brain cells during the snowball fight?”

“Very sure, sweetheart,” he replied. “You’re an incredible woman and I’d be an idiot not to be interested.”

“Okay, but —” Nesta began.

Cassian just gave her a look that made whatever argument she’d been about to make die on her tongue. “Can you just accept that I like you so we can do this for real already?”

“Okay,” she reluctantly agreed, that wrong-footed feeling finally going away the moment he touched her and she knew it was real. He looked so handsome silhouetted against the twinkling lights that he almost didn’t look real, but he was — and he was all hers, for real this time. “Fine. Whatever. Just stop talking and kiss me already.”

Cassian wasted no time in sliding his hand up to cup her face and press his lips to hers. His lips were soft and warm against hers, moving slowly like he didn’t want to scare her off. She was tired of waiting, though, so she surged up to kiss him back, wrapping her arms around his neck and finally plunging her hands into his hair to pull him closer like she’d been thinking about all week.

It had been one thing to kiss him in front of her sisters, but this was something else, something only for them. They shifted positions again so Nesta was straddling him, spreading her legs to bracket those powerful thighs, and she gasped once she felt how hard he was underneath her.

“Let’s go upstairs,” she said between kisses.

“Best idea you’ve had all week,” he replied. He shoved the blanket aside and stood up, effortlessly supporting her weight as he started walking toward the stairs.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” she muttered into his mouth. She loved how strong he was, how easily he could move her around like she was nothing.

“I’ll show you hot,” he told her, pulling a giggle out of her, and that was the last coherent sentence either of them were able to string together for a while.

❅❅❅❅❅

The next morning, Nesta woke to a chest full of muscle, but she didn’t jerk away this time. Instead, she pressed a kiss to Cassian’s warm chest, sighing happily when she opened her eyes to see he was already looking at her.

“Good morning,” Cassian said, his voice deeper than usual. He was so adorable that she almost couldn’t believe she got to have him all to herself.

“Good morning,” Nesta replied with a small smile. “Sleep well?”

“Yeah,” he responded with a grin of his own. “This absolutely gorgeous woman managed to put me right to sleep.”

She rolled her eyes, but from the way his gaze went soft, she knew he knew she didn’t mean it. “Must’ve been one hell of a bedtime story.”

“That’s definitely one way to put it.” Cassian leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead, making his way down her face to eventually press a chaste kiss to her lips. “What are the odds I can get a good morning story too?”

“Pretty high,” Nesta responded, squirming as his cool hand found its way underneath her warm pajama shirt.

“It’s a Christmas miracle,” he teased.

“Yeah, well,” she said, managing to steal another kiss as he rolled on top of her, “I hear those aren’t in short supply these days.”

Soon, they’d have to get ready for their train back to DC, and they’d have to figure out what their relationship would look like back in the real world. They’d have to figure out time to see one another around work schedules, family obligations, and whatever else life decided to throw at them. But for now, as they pressed their bodies together while the snow continued to fall outside, all Nesta and Cassian had to think about was how right they felt pressed against one another.

#acotar #acosf #acotar secret santa 2022 #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #moodymelanistwrites #seasonal prompts

139 notes · View notes

kingofsummer93 · 1 year

Text

On Waves of Blue

My gift to @labellefleur-sauvage for @acotargiftexchange!

Summary:

Elain is bored of her mind-numbingly dull life as Princess of Mushroom Kingdom. The only excitement she's ever known is the threat of the great fire-breathing King Koopa, intent on making her his bride.

Is it so wrong, then, that she doesn't fear his return?

Rating: E

Word Count: 24K

Read it on Ao3

Elain took a deep breath of cool fresh air, tinged with the sharp, bright scent of spring blooms. She paused on her walk up the hill and lowered her pink parasol to tilt her face up to the sun. It was a warm, lovely day, with only a smattering of puffy white clouds strolling lazily across the sky.

But then, it was always a warm, lovely day in Toad Town.

Elain did not have any reason to be resentful about that, and so she pretended like she wasn’t. People would murder, steal, and do a number of other unspeakable things in order to be where she was. People did murder, steal, and do other unspeakable things, and it was her duty to protect the peace of her little corner of the world.

She had no right to be (just a little bit) resentful that it never rained, that the wind never picked up enough to ruffle her hair, that it never got chilly, or uncomfortably hot, or that it didn’t snow. So what if it didn’t snow at Mushroom Castle? So what if there was a whole world up north where apparently it was snowy year-round, and Elain had never seen it, and likely never would? That was nobody’s problem except for hers.

It was just that sometimes, sometimes she would look out at the rolling hills surrounding her castle, the grass so vibrantly green it almost looked fake, everyone so happy and smiling, and she almost, almost wished she were somewhere else.

Somewhere new. Somewhere different and interesting.

There was nothing interesting about the grounds of Mushroom Castle. Only the same hills she had run up and down since she was a girl, the same perfectly proportioned trees she had been shading herself under all her life, and that maddening, perfectly harmless sun.

Elain wanted to know what it was like to have the sun feel so hot that it burned. She wanted to burn and then dip into a pool of cool water and hiss at the sharp contrast. She wanted to step outside into a frigid landscape and then come inside and sigh as the heat of a fireplace warmed her frozen fingers.

But this was where she belonged, in her castle, as the fair-headed, level-tempered monarch of her people, and so that would be where she remained.

A few toads scurried by, sending her wide-eyed, worried glances as they passed “Princess Elain, are you alright?”

Indeed she must have looked quite the sight, standing there looking miserably up into the sun. Elain lifted her parasol and smiled warmly at the toads. “Quite alright. Just out for a little stroll.”

The toads smiled broadly and then were on their way, leaving her alone with her thoughts. Elain continued up the hill, until she was high enough that she had an unobstructed view of her land.

It was beautiful, really. A lush, green landscape dotted with gently rolling hills, a lazily curving river, and in the center- Mushroom Castle. The afternoon sunshine reflected off the pristine white stone so brightly it almost hurt to look at it. Towers and turrets rose towards the sky, narrowing into spires topped with red flags that gently swung in the gentle breeze. The drawbridge was down, the moat as quiet and still as a reflecting pool. In her mind she could picture the bright, sunny interior, the walls dotted with paintings she knew so well she could probably have recreated them with her eyes closed.

Beautiful, serene, peaceful. And completely, utterly dull.

It was wrong, so wrong, but in that moment Elain couldn’t help but look toward the sky. She strained her ears, thinking that maybe that sound she heard was the menacing rumble of those propellers. Maybe that shadow she saw in the distance was not caused by a cloud, but by that warship, captained by that monster who was so intent on making her his bride.

It terrified her, the thought that he would always come back for her. Always, time and time again, he would come back. Nothing could distract him, nothing could convince him to stay away.

And yet- and yet, was it wrong, that when she was aboard that flying ship, she leaned over the railing and marveled wide-eyed at the scenery below her? They only ever flew south, so she had never seen the snow kingdom, but she had seen deserts with sand-covered towns and tropical islands with beaches as white as fresh paper. It took her breath away every time. Just one glimpse was enough to fuel her dreams for months. The world was so large, and she had seen so little of it.

But the return of King Koopa also meant war, destruction, and unnecessary distress for her subjects. And so of course Elain didn’t wish for that cloud in the distance to pass, and reveal the terrifying outline of fluttering sails and canons ready to fire.

No, of course she didn’t wish that.

“Silence!” Lucien boomed. The soldiers in front of him fell silent immediately. “What did you just say?”

The soldier quivered slightly, in equal parts fright and excitement. “The plumber, your highness. He’s been spotted vacationing with his brother on Isle Delfino.”

Lucien snarled, smoke escaping his nostrils as a wave of dislike coursed through him. Just the thought of that plumber was enough to agitate the flame that heated his veins.

“And they did not take the princess with them?” He was almost afraid to hear the answer, even as a plan started forming in his mind.

“No, Sir. They never do. The princess’s place is in her castle.”

The princess’s place is by my side, Lucien thought automatically. She had been his since the first moment they laid eyes on each other.

He could still remember it, the first time he had seen her. Elain. So beautiful, so delicate- and so, so afraid of him. The first time he had kidnapped her she had cried the entire time. Lucien did not like the tears. They squeezed at his heart like a vice, enough so that he hadn’t put up that much of a fight when the plumber and his acolytes had come to rescue her.

The second time she had cried again, though less desperately than the first time. She had seemed almost defeated, as if she had expected this to happen.

Over time though, as she learned that he truly did not mean to harm her, her fear for him had faded, as had the tears. She tried to act like he still scared her, but Lucien knew the truth. He saw the way she leaned over the railing of his ship and gazed out at the landscape below, her beautiful brown eyes glittering with fascination.

Her soul called out to his. She was trapped, a lost soul, a dreamer. Lucien could tell, because he was trapped, too. Trapped in a land he hated, in a position he never asked for.

They could run away. He would show her the world. Far, far away from that meddlesome plumber who was too foolish to see what was directly in front of him. Lucien would never leave her behind to play the pretty princess as he went off on adventures. He would take her anywhere she wanted.

If only she would accept to be his bride.

“Prepare the ship,” Lucien declared. We fly in an hour.”

Isle Delfino was a few days’ flight from Mushroom Castle. A week or more on foot. He could be in and out before word even got further than Toad Town, and they would be long gone before the blasted plumber even heard the news.

His soldiers snickered darkly and squealed in delight at the prospect. Sometimes they irritated Lucien so much that he was afraid he might incinerate them all in a bout of annoyance.

He left them to their giddy preparations and walked out the throne room to the balcony that overlooked his lands.

Koopa Kingdom had once been as beautiful as Mushroom Kingdom, if not even more so. Lucien could remember running through dense forests as a child, climbing trees that were so wide and ancient they were almost sacred. He remembered his eldest brother teaching him how to fish with his bare hands in the merry rivers that used to wound their way around their lands, but had long since dried up. The volcano that now continuously spat its fury into the sky had been dormant in his youth, a harmless mountain that he had climbed time and time again.

That glorious kingdom was now no more than a miserable, god-forsaken corner of the world. Burned to the ground with the combined wrath of the volcano and his siblings’ desperate rivalry. In the end they had all perished, leaving only Lucien to pick up the pieces.

Now it was him that they feared, as they had all once feared his father and his brothers. It was useless to try to convince them all that he was different than them, that he did not wish for them to fear him. But how to explain, when he looked like them, and talked like them, and lived in the castle they had once ruled? It was useless, and so Lucien let them make up their own minds about him.

It was easier this way.

It usually came and went, the restlessness, as Elain called it. More pressing matters would come up- town folks would come to her with problems needing solving, or her friends would return from their travels bursting at the seams to regale her with their tales.

But that night there was nothing but Elain and her thoughts. She wandered the quiet halls of her castle, illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through the large windows. The only sound other than her own breathing was the swish of her skirts along the stone floors.

Elain walked from room to room, admiring the paintings and the strange, foreign worlds they depicted. A sunken ship, surrounded by terrifying underwater creatures. A world filled with giants. A winter landscape with jolly, smiling snowmen. She reached out and touched the snow, wishing there existed some kind of magic that would make it possible for her to fall into the painting and inhabit that world, even if it was only for a little while.

She was still staring at the snowy landscape when she heard the rumbling in the distance. Still faint, but close enough that she could feel the vibration of it through the floor. Her breath caught in her throat. It was him. King Koopa, come to take her away again. A little thrill went through her. Fear, yes, but mostly something else. Excitement, heady and addicting. Elain didn’t let herself focus on that as she hurried through the castle towards the throne room.

Her faithful toads were already gathered around the closed double doors, frantic and panicky. Bless them- she loved them dearly, but they were not fighters. The only fighters she knew were far away, on Isle Delfino. Elain had wanted to go with them but of course she could not. She tried not to resent her friends for that but it was hard not to, when she was the one carrying the heavy burden of ruling, while they went off and had the adventures she so desperately wanted.

It was also difficult not to resent them when they were exploring distant shores and she was left to fend for herself as her lands were invaded by the enemy.

Was he still the enemy, though, if she did not resist?

A heavy thud sounded in the distance, the impact making the windows rattle in their frames. Elain could hear shouts in the distance, followed by jeers and laughter. A burst of flame from outside the windows illuminated the throne room with warm light. Elain knew that flame. She was drawn to it, despite herself. It was as inexplicable as the fact that she wasn’t afraid of him, despite the fact that all reason said she definitely should be.

“Princess Elain! What are you doing? Please, go back to your chambers!”

Elain ignored the pleas of her faithful servants and descended the steps from the dais towards the wide double doors. The king would take her whether she wanted to go or not. It was easier for everyone if she went easily. At least, that’s what she told herself.

The first impact on the doors sent the toads screaming in fright. But Elain held her ground, standing proud and unafraid. She would not be seen cowering inside her own home. Especially because if she had her way, this would be the last time. She was not planning on coming back to her mind-numbingly dull life at Mushroom Castle. She would find a way to escape, on her own this time, and then she would be free to travel the world as she pleased.

Another teeth-rattling bang against the doors. It would be easier to open them than to let him break them down, really, but that might have been taking things a step too far. She didn’t need him to know that she wasn’t afraid of him, after all. It made Elain feel powerful to know that she could fool him this way. There was an element of danger in admitting to him that she was not afraid. It might cause him to change his ways, and become as wicked and cruel as people feared him to be.

Another hit, and another, until finally the wood cracked and then splintered. A hand appeared through the cracks, scaled fingers ending in menacing claws ripping and clawing at the wood until the doors were no more than a pile of sticks on the ground. And then there he was, with nothing but air protecting her from him. The giant, reptilian form of King Koopa.

He was so tall that he had to stoop slightly to fit through the door, and so broad that his frame almost blocked out any moonlight from filtering in through the gap in the wall. His muscular limbs were covered in thick yellow-gold scales, his fingers and toes tipped with those sharp claws. His back was covered by an emerald green shell dotted with spikes, the same spikes that lined his tapered tail. On his head curved two menacing horns, and in between those horns, a shock of ruby-red hair.

He laughed then, his usual low, rumbling laugh. Elain heard a few whimpers behind her, but she only clasped her hands in front of her and lowered her eyes. This was the game they played. She had her role, and he had his.

His footsteps echoed around the silent throne room. Elain didn’t move, couldn’t breathe as he approached her. And then one of those clawed fingers was gently tilting her chin up so she was forced to look at him.

His fiery russet eyes were fixed on hers, his mouth curved into his trademark evil grin.

“Well, well, well,” he crooned. “Look what we have here.”

His cronies snickered behind him, swinging their weapons around menacingly. Elain forced herself to meet that fiery gaze.

“Where are your friends?” the King continued.

“Away,” Elain said simply. She tried to keep her expression neutral but a frown betrayed her.

He laughed again, but it sounded different this time. Less menacing and wild, almost…bitter. Elain didn’t know what to make of that, so she stood there and held his gaze.

“Please don’t take me, Your Highness,” she whispered, widening her eyes for good measure.

This was part of their game. As soon as the words left her lips his russet eyes flickered with flame, and Elain’s breath caught in her throat. It was wrong, so wrong, that she wasn’t afraid. That she wanted to reach out a hand towards him and feel his skin, just to see if she could feel that flame that coursed through his veins…

“I’ll make you my bride this time, Princess.”

His words sent a little shiver through her. On the surface they sounded menacing, but she knew the threat was empty. She’d figured that out a long time ago.

“And if I refuse?” she countered.

Her tone might have been slightly more petulant than she had planned, and she momentarily froze. But then that flame in his eyes intensified, and his wicked grin widened.

“Oh, you won’t Princess. Not this time.”

With that he swept her up into his arms and walked out of the castle. Her toads were crying and pleading with him for mercy, but he only laughed and shooed them out of his way.

He carried her all the way onto ship, and when he set her down he did it gently, carefully. The soldiers were climbing aboard behind their King, and then they were off, rising up into the night sky.

There was something different about her tonight. Lucien couldn’t put his finger on what it was, but it was enough to dim his usual bravado.

“Please don’t take me, your highness.”

Was it his runaway imagination, or had her lips quirked into the barest of smirks as she said those words? No- surely not. That was his idiotic mind being affected by her presence, as always.

She was leaning over the side of the ship as she always did when they flew, her golden-brown curls whipping in the wind as she gazed out at the scenery below them. After a few minutes she leaned back and gazed at the floor sadly.

“Can I go below deck?”

Lucien blinked in surprise. He was so taken aback by this request that he forgot to sound menacing when he spoke. “But you always like to stay above deck to look at the view.”

The princess fixed him with a steely look. His unspoken subtext shone in those eyes like an accusation. You mean, every other time you’ve kidnapped me?

But Lucien couldn’t feel bad about it. They were meant to be together. She would see, someday. She would realize that his methods, while dubious, had been necessary to bring them together.

“It’s night,” she said simply. “I can’t see anything.”

Lucien’s stomach dropped. Idiot. You’re so fucking stupid, why did you come at night. She likes to look at the view and you came at night because you were too eager to see her.

He glanced around them quickly to make sure they were alone. “Sorry,” he said gruffly. “I didn’t think of that.”

It was Elain’s turn to blink in surprise. “Are you apologizing for kidnapping me at night instead of during the day?”

Lucien chuckled. “Would that be a bad thing?”

Elain was quiet for a moment as she contemplated him. “Why are you only nice when nobody else is around?”

Something twisted in Lucien’s gut again. He had a feeling that maybe Elain understood him better than he understood himself, and there was something dangerously thrilling about that.

“Why do you pretend to be afraid of me when we both know you’re not?” he countered.

Another quirk of those lips. How Lucien longed to kiss those lips. How he longed for her to want to kiss him. But why would she? He was a giant, fire-breathing turtle.

Do you see me? Do you see that I’m not what the world thinks I am?

“Why wouldn’t I be afraid of you? You’re a monster intent on making me his bride against my will.”

Monster. Monster. Monster. It wasn’t her fault. She didn’t know, but it hurt nonetheless. But why would she think of him as anything else when he had never shown her the truth?

“That’s where you’re wrong, princess. I don’t intend to make you do anything against your will.”

He would show her, he decided. Once they arrived at Koopa Kingdom, he would show her the truth about who he was.

“So if I asked you to bring me home you would do it?” Her eyes were wide, her head quirked. The portrait of innocence- had it not been for that defiance flashing in those eyes.

“Is home really where you’d like to go?”

Her lips clamped shut.

Lucien laughed again. “Tell me where you’d like to go, and maybe I’ll take you there.”

She seemed to hesitate for a second, but then she crossed her arms defiantly and remained silent, those blazing eyes fixed on his.

“Very well,” Lucien said, inclining his head in a mock bow. “If you change your mind just let me know. You’ll never know what my answer might be until you ask.”

Castle Koopa was dark and uninviting, with walls made of crude stone and torches that sent long, spooky shadows along the corridors. There were damp dungeons and abandoned towers and a throne room empty of any furniture save for a single throne on a raised dais.

When they arrived Elain wordlessly followed the King’s cronies to the chambers where she was always kept. Although, was it fair to say she was “being kept” when there was no lock on the door?

Her chambers were not in the dungeons, as her friends believed, but in one of the highest towers. It was a circular room, with tall windows that let in plenty of sun. There was a bookshelf filled with books, plush carpeting, and a large four-poster bed with lush bedding. The attached bathing chamber was just as opulent, with gold fixtures and a variety of scented toiletries at her disposal.

The view, however, was admittedly not as pleasant as the interior. The lands of Koopa Kingdom were barren and stark, with lazily flowing rivers of lava that ran down the sides of the volcano and onto what had once been a lush, abundant kingdom.

Escaping on foot was pure folly. The bridges that arched over the lava flows were old and crumbly, and one wrong step could send her toppling to her death. Elain was not so desperate that she would readily risk her life. She would have to go about it a different way.

Her strange conversation with the King had given her an idea. If she played her part well enough, would he agree to take her somewhere else? Perhaps she could cry and beg. She knew he hated that. That first time he had kidnapped her she had cried the entire time and she had felt his discomfort like it was a physical thing.

He knew she liked to look out at the view as they flew, had even apologized for taking her at night. Perhaps she could simply request that he take her somewhere else on the basis of satisfying her curiosity.

And then, when they got there, she could escape.

The next morning Elain made her way down to the dining hall, where she always ate her meals. As she walked through the castle she encountered many of the King’s cronies, but nobody escorted her or checked her comings and goings. After all, where could she go?

Elain usually ate alone, with only a guard at the door to keep her company, but sometimes the King would join her. On the few occasions she had asked him about it he gruffly claimed to be busy, but Elain sometimes got the feeling that he gave her space on purpose. She didn’t quite know what to make of that.

She was hoping that he would be there today, so she could lay the groundwork for her plan. She’d start by wistfully mentioning her friends’ most recent ill-planned trip, and then she’d mention how much she enjoyed flying over all those wondrous territories that she had never seen on foot. If she played the part convincingly enough he might even offer before she even had to ask.

As she walked through the doors into the dining room she gasped and stopped in her tracks. The King was not at the table, but there was someone sitting at the head of the table in his usual spot. A man. This fact alone would have startled her- she had never seen another human anywhere near Castle Koopa. He stood as Elain walked in and she realized on second glance that he wasn’t quite a man, but not quite a Koopaling either. She had never seen anybody like him.

He was beautiful, with elegant, sharp features that made her breath catch in her throat. She guessed that he must be related to the King somehow, because he sported the same long, curved horns on top of his head, those same russet eyes, and the mane of silky hair that tumbled past his shoulders was a very familiar shade of ruby-red.

Even more distracting, though, was the fact that he was bare chested. His golden skin seemed to glow in the light of the lit torches, and it was an effort not to gawk at his strong chest and rippled stomach.

“Good morning,” he greeted, inclining his head in a bow.

The sound of his voice sent a little shiver through her. He had a deep, rich voice, not gravelly and rough like the King’s, but smooth and warm.

“Who are you?” she squeaked.

The man smirked slightly, and Elain flushed in horror. She was forgetting herself. She might not be afraid of the King but she did not know this man. He might very well be somebody she should be afraid of.

She dipped into a quick curtsey, and the man laughed softly. “There’s no need for all that,” he said, his tone laced with amusement. “Please, sit.”

As he turned towards his seat Elain realized why he had chosen not to wear a shirt. His back was covered with thick, emerald green plates, something halfway between armor and the shell that covered the King’s back.

Elain walked towards her usual seat at the other end of the table on slightly unsteady legs. She was so taken aback that for a few minutes she only sat and stared at him. The man seemed perfectly fine with this arrangement, and he continued his breakfast in silence with a little smile on his lips.

When Elain eventually roused herself out of her trance she realized he had not answered her. It seemed rude to ask again, so she tried another tactic. “I haven’t seen you here before,” she said hesitantly.

Another flash of amusement in those russet eyes, but still he said nothing. Not confirming nor denying.

“Are you not hungry?” he asked, nodding his head to the loaded dishes in front of her.

Elain reached for the nearest dish with shaky fingers, dumping fruits, cheese, and pastries on her plate. She forked a tiny piece of melon and chewed slowly, hyper aware of the man’s eyes fixated on her.

When she looked back at him he was still smiling that coy smile. “Where is the King?” she asked timidly. Had her friends found her so soon? Was the King already out there, battling them?

“Don’t worry about him,” the man quickly replied.

Elain was getting a little irritated with his answers that weren’t really answers, but she remembered her manners and forced herself to remain polite.

“Are you related?” She figured this was a fair enough question to ask.

The man’s expression became carefully guarded. “You could say that,” he answered carefully.

“What’s your name?”

His lips twitched back into a smile. “You’re chatty today.”

Elain flushed in embarrassment. “Sorry,” she muttered. And then his wording made her frown. “What do you mean I’m chatty today?”

The man winced slightly, though he tried to play it off by taking a sip of tea. “Just a figure of speech,” he said casually.

The silence stretched on awkwardly. Elain picked at her food, glancing up at the man across the table every few seconds. She was burning with curiosity about him, but she didn’t want to push her luck.

After a few minutes of tense silence he cleared his throat and Elain jumped slightly. “Lucien. My name is Lucien.”

Elain smiled at his admission. Perhaps if she kept him talking she could find out where the king had gone and when he’d be back. “Nice to meet you, Lucien. I’m Elain.”

“Elain?” he asked curiously. “Not Princess Elain?” He seemed amused at her expense again. His eyes flicked to the top of her head. “Where is your crown?”

Elain shrugged primly. “I don’t see a need for it here. I am no princess in these lands.”

In truth she relished the opportunity to not wear that crown, heavy both physically and in burden.

Lucien was looking at her closely, as if he was trying to look directly into her soul. It unnerved her- it was almost like he knew more about her then he was letting on.

“What is your purpose here?” she asked, if only to get him to stop peering at her like that.

Lucien stared at her for so long, with such an unreadable expression on his face, that she worried she might have pried too far. But then his eyes turned sad, and he seemed to slump a little.

“You could say I am a prisoner here, too,” he said softly.

Elain gaped at him. “The King is holding you captive here as well?”

Lucien waved his hand vaguely. “In a way, yes.”

Elain had never seen or heard of another human prisoner in this castle in the multiple times she’d been here. Could there be others, in hidden corners of the castle? Perhaps if there were, they could help each other escape. She was no fighter, any ally she could get would be welcome. And by the looks of Lucien he most certainly knew how to fight…

Her heart was racing with excitement at this new prospect. She was just about to ask if there were others when the sound of approaching voices sent Lucien jumping out of his seat in alarm.

“I must go,” he murmured, glancing at her with what looked like regret.

Elain couldn’t understand his reaction. Was he not allowed to walk freely around the castle, as she was? Perhaps that would explain why she had never seen him before.

“Wait!”

Lucien’s eyes widened slightly at the urgency in her tone. She didn’t want him to go. Having someone to talk to who wasn’t the King or his hateful cronies had been so welcome, even with his half answers.

“Will I see you again?” she asked shyly. “I can come to you, if it’s safer, I’m allowed to walk around as I please…”

Lucien smiled, and Elain’s breath caught in her throat again. “I’ll find you, Elain. Don’t worry.”

Before she could say anything else he had hurried out of the room, and she was alone once more.

Lucien hesitated in front of the closed door that led to Elain’s chambers. He normally never sought her out in her rooms, aware that she would consider it an invasion of privacy. Perhaps it was just his way of making himself feel better about kidnapping her and holding her hostage against her will, but it brought him a small measure of peace to know that she could at least feel safe within the confines of her rooms.

But tonight he couldn’t help it. That look on her face as she had spotted him in the dining hall was forever burned in his memory. He knew it wasn’t his own vanity that made him imagine the heat that had flared in her beautiful eyes as she took in his appearance. The sight of her lips falling open as her eyes snagged on his bare torso had been worth the risk.

Continuing the secrecy surrounding his true form was the only tradition started by his father that he actually respected. He could admit that there was some sense to it. As a giant, fire-breathing reptile he was practically invincible, at least in terms of brute strength. Even his underbelly was protected by thick scales, and nothing could stand in the way of his fire. But as a human, he was vulnerable. His skin was no longer a built-in armor but just that- skin. Warm and soft and utterly pierceable. He still had his flame, but it wasn’t quite the same. If his cronies found out they could easily rebel against him, especially now that his father and brothers were long gone and it was just him. If they ganged up on him in his human form there would be nothing but his flame to protect him from having a spear thrown into his heart.

So he kept up the pretense. Still, the urge to show Elain his true self had plagued him since the first time he’d seen her. It had been pure folly, to show himself to her, but somehow he trusted that she wouldn’t tell anyone. He simply needed her to know- he needed her to look at his human form and know that if she placed her hands on him he would feel as human and breakable as she did. If she only looked at him from the front she might even forget that he wasn’t completely human. There was nothing he could do about the horns on his head, so he could only hope she wasn’t completely repulsed by them.

Lucien hesitated for another minute before knocking on her door gently. There was a soft intake of breath from the other side of the door, and then silence. He couldn’t blame her for being alarmed.

“Elain?” he called softly through the door. “It’s me. Lucien.”

Another gasp, and then the muffled sound of feet pattering as she hurried towards the door. It opened a crack, and then she appeared, peering at him timidly. Lucien’s heart quickened as he realized she was wearing a nightgown. But then, what had he expected? He forced himself to keep his gaze on her face and no further south.

“Hi,” she said shyly.

Unlike him she apparently had no qualms about ogling him, and Lucien’s heart rate increased as he noticed her gaze immediately dipped to his chest. He’d worn a shirt tonight, in an attempt to make her less intimidated by his presence in her chambers. He didn’t want her to get the wrong impression and become afraid of him, but suddenly he hated the garment with a burning passion, and not just because it was itching against the plates of armor on his back.

Elain quickly glanced around the deserted corridor. “How did you…is it safe for you to be here?”

It wasn’t, but not for the reasons she assumed.

“I wanted to apologize for running away so abruptly earlier,” he replied, dodging the question. “Sorry to bother you so late.”

He didn’t quite know how to ask her if he could come in without sounding like a predator, but then Elain smiled and opened the door wider.

“It’s fine,” she said quickly. “You’re not bothering me. Do you want to come in?”

Lucien dipped his chin in thanks and stepped into her room. He couldn’t help but watch her as she walked to her wardrobe and wrapped a robe around herself, her cheeks stained a rosy pink. She turned to face him and suddenly Lucien was at a loss for what to say. Truthfully he hadn’t really planned this visit beyond his desire to see her. He was scrambling to come up with an excuse for being there, but Elain beat him to it.

“I’ve been thinking,” she started excitedly, “about how we can escape.”

That was not what he had expected her to say, and for a moment Lucien could only blink at her stupidly. “About how we can…what?”

“Escape!” Elain repeated. Her brown eyes were twinkling with excitement. “I’ve been coming up with a plan. I was going to do it myself but obviously it will be much better to have someone who can fight…”

Bitter disappointment twisted in Lucien’s gut. Why was he surprised? Of course she wanted to escape, why had he thought otherwise? Why had he assumed that just because she wasn’t outwardly repulsed by his true form, it must mean she would want to stay?

She mistook his silence for confusion, and her blush deepened. “I mean, I just assumed you know how to fight, judging by how…I mean…it’s ok if you don't…”

Lucien was aware that she was complimenting him without meaning to, and he couldn’t help but puff up his chest slightly. “I know how to fight,” he said quickly.

Her eyes brightened. “I knew you would!”

“So…” He must tread carefully here. “You were planning to escape? Back to Toad Town? Why not wait for your friends to come to your help?”

To his knowledge she had never attempted to escape on her own before. It was such a departure from her usual behavior that Lucien couldn’t make sense of it. Especially as her eyes flashed with irritation and she lifted her chin proudly.

“I’m tired of waiting for men to rescue me,” she said, crossing her arms defiantly. She was so much shorter than him but somehow in that moment she seemed to look down at him. Why did he like that so much?

“Besides,” she continued, “I’m not looking to go back home.”

Lucien’s heart rate picked up again. It was so loud in his ears that he wouldn’t have been surprised if she could hear it.

“Where do you want to go?” he asked carefully.

Her face turned towards the window, and the longing in her eyes made his heart clench. I will take you anywhere, he promised silently. Just tell me where you’d like to go.

“Everywhere,” she said simply. “I want to see it all. Did you know there’s a territory to the north completely covered in snow and ice?” She perked up visibly again, and Lucien chuckled even as his heart continued to race.

This was what he’d been waiting for. A sign, a hint, something to indicate that he had been right in assuming that her quiet life as Princess of Mushroom Kingdom was not what she truly desired.

“Will you help me?” She looked so hopeful, those brown eyes so wide and lovely, that Lucien felt the urge to fall to his knees and declare that there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her. Saying no to that face was not a possibility, consequences be damned.

“Yes,” he blurted. “I will help you.”

The smile this earned him was more beautiful than anything he’d ever seen in his life.

“Do you know if there are others? We can take them with us!”

Lucien frowned in confusion. “Others?”

“Other prisoners!”

Right- she believed him a prisoner. He felt a twinge of guilt at that. But then again, what other choice did he have? He couldn’t reveal his identity to her yet. Not until she trusted him completely. And not until they were far, far away from this place.

“I don’t believe so, no…” he said vaguely.

“That’s probably for the best,” she replied, nodding seriously. “A bigger group would be more noticeable.”

Something occurred to Lucien then. That she was asking about other prisoners meant she believed him capable of such a thing. But, once again, why wouldn’t she? Had he not kidnapped her, time and time again?

“I’ll need a few days to prepare the ship,” he said, speaking as much to himself as he was to her. It would take a matter of hours if he asked his soldiers to do it, but of course he couldn’t reveal what he was really planning. He would have to be careful to avoid detection.

Elain’s eyebrows raised in surprise, and then she smiled in delight. “You want to steal the King’s ship?”

Lucien shuffled uncomfortably. “Um…I guess so. Yes. That’s the best way, we can’t escape on foot without being detected.”

“You can fly it?”

It was an effort not to laugh at that. His eldest brother had taught him how to fly the ship when he’d been eight years old.

“Yes.” Too confident. “I mean, I think so…”

“Excellent! We should do it at night, when the King and his soldiers are sleeping. That way we’ll be long gone by the time they even realize we’re gone.”

It hurt, the knowledge that she would leave him without a second thought, without saying goodbye. Hadn’t she grown to tolerate his presence? Or had that been an act? A coping mechanism, perhaps, to lull him into thinking she had become submissive?

And yet, she was trusting him now, wasn’t she? He could find comfort in that.

“You should gather anything you think you’ll need.” As he said it he realized that anything she would be taking would be something he had provided for her. She had no personal effects here except for the pink dress with the blue pin she had been wearing upon her arrival. “I’ll pack some cloaks as well.”

She looked at him in confusion at that.

“We’ll need them if you want to go north,” he clarified. “That is where you want to go, right?”

Elain stared at him for so long that a new, horrible thought occurred to him. Of course she didn’t want to go north with him. She wanted his help to escape, but after that she would want to be rid of him, and he’d be no better off than he was now…

“You would take me there?” she asked, her voice small.

“I’ll take you anywhere you want to go,” Lucien replied, perhaps a tad more forcefully than he had meant to. “If you want me to.”

She held his gaze, and for a moment he couldn’t breathe. Say yes.

“Why would you do that for me?” she asked, still in that same quiet, timid voice.

I would do anything for you.

“It’s like I told you…I’m trapped here, too.”

Her eyes became sad, and he felt wretched. She reached out and took his hands in hers, squeezing gently, and that little touch made his blood heat a few degrees. Her skin was so soft. It made him feel like a beast, a monstrosity with scales and spikes and horns.

“I think we were meant to find each other,” she whispered. “So we could escape together.”

Lucien squeezed back. “Yes,” he agreed. “I think so, too.”

Elain didn’t see Lucien for days afterwards. He wasn’t in the dining hall when she went for meals, and he never came to seek her out in her chambers. She tried not to become worried, reasoning that he must be trying to keep a low profile in light of their impending escape.

Still, she couldn’t help the scenarios of increasing doom that took residence in her mind. Perhaps the King had caught him, and was punishing him? Perhaps Lucien was being tortured, and he would be forced to admit that he had been helping her. Or perhaps he had simply changed his mind. Somehow she thought that would be the most devastating of all the scenarios.

Elain was walking towards the dining hall, trying to convince herself that he wouldn’t be there in order to keep the disappointment at bay, when the sound of voices sent her heart soaring. She quickened her pace and practically skipped into the dining hall, and then she stopped short.

It was not Lucien sitting at the table, but King Koopa himself, surrounded by three of his soldiers. Elain tried to hide her crushing disappointment as she slowly approached the table. She had been thinking about Lucien so much that she had almost forgotten about the King completely.

The soldiers fell silent as she sat down at the table and served herself. The King looked unusually tense, and something about that filled Elain with dread.

“Have you been away?” she asked, not meeting that fiery gaze. “I haven’t seen you since I’ve arrived.”

Someone scoffed, and out of the corner of her eyes she saw one of the soldiers look at the King incredulously.

“Are you not going to punish her, Your Highness?” one of the cronies asked viciously. “Because I’d be happy to do it for you…”

Elain dropped her fork with a clang. That soldier always looked at her for too long, his gaze lascivious and leering. They were all ordered not to touch her, of course, but if he was given permission to punish her she had no doubt what his preferred method would be.

It wasn’t herself she was worried about in that moment, however. If they were speaking of punishing her then that had to mean that Lucien had been caught, and that’d he admitted what they were planning to do. What had they done to him?

The King snarled then, little wisps of smoke escaping his nostrils. “It is you who will be punished if you don’t show some respect.”

The soldier backed away and dipped his head respectfully. “Of course, yes, of course, I only meant to say…”

“Quiet!” the King ordered. The stuttering soldier fell silent at once.

“Punish me for what?” Elain asked in a small voice. “I’ve done nothing wrong, I’ve just been in my chambers the whole time…” It wasn’t a lie.

The King surveyed her carefully for a few moments. “My soldiers have just informed me that things have been going missing from the supply closets.”

Elain’s heart skipped a beat. Lucien had been stealing things in preparation for their escape. She swallowed thickly and prayed that she looked innocent. “What sorts of things?”

“Food,” the King answered. “Weapons.”

Weapons. Of course they would need those but Elain didn’t like to think about that.

“And…and why would I want to steal food and weapons, when I am well fed and have no idea how to fight?”

She knew that the King knew this, and that it was the reason she wasn’t already being punished.

“But who else could it be, Princess?” the leering soldier pressed.

The King snarled again, and this time a rumble shook through the floor of the dining hall. “Get out,” he demanded, glaring at his cronies. His voice was low and menacing and the soldiers almost tripped over themselves as they excited the dining hall, not needing to be told twice.

Once they were alone Elain dared to look up at the King. His expression was as unreadable as ever.

“I know you didn’t take those things,” he said. “You don’t need to worry.”

She was worried. If he knew she hadn’t done it then surely he knew who had, especially since she now knew there were no other prisoners other than her and Lucien. It might have been folly, to admit that she knew about him, but she had to know. Otherwise she would keep hoping for him to show up, when he probably never would.

“What did you do to him?” she asked quietly.

The King frowned slightly. “What did I do to who?”

“Lucien.” Her voice was so quiet it was barely above a whisper.

The King’s eyes widened slightly, and his head swiveled wildly, as if he was making sure that they were alone.

“Do not speak that name,” he said tightly.

Elain squirmed. Surely that meant something had happened to him. “It was my fault,” she said miserably. “It was my idea, he was only trying to help me. Please don’t hurt him, punish me instead…”

“Quiet!” he commanded. His eyes were wild with what she could have sworn was panic. “Stop talking, Elain.”

Elain. King Koopa almost never called her by her first name. It was always Princess. It was surprising enough to make her fall silent.

“Go to your chambers and do not come out or speak to anyone. And do not say that name to anyone, under any circumstances.”

“But…”

“Now, Princess.”

He stood and walked to her side, and Elain had no choice but to stand and let him escort her to her rooms. It was no use to keep arguing and risk angering him further.

Before shutting the door behind her she turned and looked at him. His russet eyes and vibrant hair were so similar to Lucien’s own features that Elain was suddenly enraged.

“He’s your family,” she spat at him through gritted teeth. “How could you treat like this? You’re a monster.”

The King didn’t growl or snarl, or clench his fists, or thump his spiked tail on the ground, or any of the other reactions she might have expected. He didn’t react at all, except for an almost imperceptible wince.

“I've never argued otherwise,” he replied, staring at her with an intensity that unnerved her. “Just trust me. Stay here. Everything will be ok.”

She opened her mouth to argue further but he was already shutting the door.

“Wait!”

The door snapped shut, followed by the unmistakable sound of a key turning in the lock. Elain’s stomach plummeted. He had never locked her in her chambers before. For a few long minutes she simply stood there and stared at the locked door in shock.

Just trust me. Everything will be ok.

What an odd thing to say before locking her in her room. Laughable, really.

Everything would not be ok. She had been presented with a glimmer of hope, a glimpse at a future that wasn’t just more of the same, and she’d latched on to it like a fool.

But what hurt the most was the thought of Lucien, getting punished for something that had been her idea. Would the King even let him live? Guilt and grief warred with each other until the emotions threatened to overwhelm her.

She barely knew Lucien, but she knew with absolute certainty that she’d never forget him. When her friends inevitably showed up to rescue her she would go back to Mushroom Castle with them, and then she would leave, consequences be damned. She would make her way around the unknown corners of the world on her own, and every time she would see something new she would think of him.

Elain wouldn’t let herself cry. Not here. It was useless to try to go to sleep, so she walked to the window seat and sat, staring out at the harsh, ruined landscape.

Lucien tiptoed through the castle, careful to avoid certain corridors where he knew soldiers would be standing guard. It would be wiser to shift only once he reached Elain’s room, but he was so much quieter and quicker this way.

The sound of raucous laughter echoed around the corner, and Lucien dove into an alcove in the wall hidden by a tapestry. He held his breath as the soldiers walked right by him, laughing and jeering and utterly unaware of his presence.

Once their laughter had faded he slowly slipped out from behind the tapestry and hurried towards the tower where Elain was currently locked up.

He had felt sick with guilt about locking her in her chambers as soon as he’d done it, but it had been necessary. He couldn’t risk her asking any of his soldiers about Lucien.

The plan had almost imploded in front of his very eyes, but by some miracle his idiotic guards had not managed to find where the stolen items had been hidden. It would have been trickier to smooth the situation over if the pilfered supplies had been found in their hiding place on his ship. Of course he could have just roared and declared that they were his things and he could do with them as he pleased, but still. Some of them might have grown suspicious and decided to keep watch on the ship. Lucien wanted to avoid confrontation as much as possible.

If all went according to plan they would simply drift away into the night, unseen and unheard. And by some miracle once their absence was noticed they would be long gone.

Lucien hesitated once he reached Elain’s door. Should he knock first, or just unlock the door? He didn’t want to make more noise than necessary, but what if she was sleeping and screamed when she woke up to find him standing next to her bed? And how was he going to explain that he had the key? What would make the most sense for someone who was ostensibly helping their friend escape? Was he overthinking things?

With one quick glance around the deserted hallway he reached out and knocked softly on the door. There was a quick gasp from inside, like last time, and then the hushed sound of her footsteps.

“Elain,” he whispered, “It’s me. Lucien.”

Another gasp, closer this time, like she had her face pressed against the door.

“Lucien! Gods! I thought…are you ok?”

“I’m fine. Are you ok?”

“Yes, yes, I’m alright. I’m locked in, though, I can’t open the door…”

Another roil of guilt. Lucien forced himself to ignore it. “I have the key,” he said quickly. “Can I come in?”

“You have…how did you…yes, of course, come in.”

Lucien slid the key in the lock and then cracked the door open. Elain’s slender arm reached out and tugged him inside before she shut the door again.

She was gaping at him with wide eyes, her jaw hanging clean off its hinges. “How…”

Before he could say anything she had closed the gap between them and wrapped her arms around his neck. Lucien froze in shock, his arms hanging limp at his sides.

“I was so worried!” Her voice was muffled from having her face pressed against his chest. “I thought something happened to you. The King found out about the missing supplies…”

Lucien was so shocked by her reaction that he only patted her on the back awkwardly, though he was tingling from her embrace.

“I’m sorry I scared you…”

“It’s not your fault!” she replied fiercely. “But how…”

Lucien shook his head quickly. “There’s no time, I’ll tell you once we’re on the ship.” Or better yet, she’d be so distracted and ecstatic about leaving that she’d forget to ask. He didn’t want to outright lie to her more than was strictly necessary, or the guilt would eat him alive.

Her brown eyes widened comically.

“We’re leaving,” Lucien clarified. “Tonight. Before anyone else becomes suspicious. Everything’s ready.”

“Tonight?” Her voice wobbled a little with sudden fright.

She glanced towards the window, an unreadable expression on her face. Was she thinking of the friends that were most probably on their way to rescue her right now? Was she changing her mind?

“If that’s still what you wish, of course…” he mumbled, heart pounding with nerves.

She waited another beat before squaring her shoulders and walking towards her wardrobe. Lucien watched silently as she wrapped a cloak around herself and then turned back to him.

“I’m ready.”

Her words, and the determination in her gaze, sent a little shiver through him. He was ready too- he’d been ready to leave this place his whole life. Was he really going to get away with it so easily? He couldn’t think about that now.

He led the way back through the castle and they inched their way slowly through the dark. The castle was mercifully still and silent, and if he weren’t trying to escape Lucien might have been angry at his guards for doing their job so poorly.

He forced himself to focus as they passed through the rooms and hallways that he knew so well he could navigate them blindly. He’d been happy here once, as a child, if only briefly. Before it had all gone to hell. Perhaps running away instead of staying and trying to fix it made him a coward, but it wasn’t just about him anymore. Elain was as silent as a shadow next to him, her head whipping back and forth as she scanned the quiet corridors. No doubt she expected to see the giant outline of the King waiting for them around every bend. Lucien reached out and grabbed her hand, squeezing gently. She smiled weakly in return and didn’t let go.

Once they were outside the castle Lucien breathed a sigh of relief. The landing pad was deserted and silent, the ship looming like a specter in the dark.

“Quick,” he whispered. “I don’t see any guards but we should still hurry.”

Elain nodded and hurried onto the ship without hesitation. Lucien had a sudden lurch of deja-vu as he followed her aboard, and he shook his head to clear his thoughts. He moved quickly, pulling back the gangplank, raising the sails, double checking their supplies. Elain stood guard as he readied the ship, and when everything was ready he met her gaze.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

He could see the fear in her eyes, but she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “No turning back now.”

Lucien’s blood sang at the sight of that steel. He grinned at her, and with a tilt of the wheel they lifted into the night sky.

Elain leaned against the side of the ship as they rose into the air, the wind whipping her hair around her head. Castle Koopa shrank below her, smaller and smaller, until it was as innocent-looking as a dollhouse. How strange, to be flying away from it, and not towards it.

Elain couldn’t quite believe she was really doing this. She expected to wake up at any moment, back in her chambers inside the King’s castle.

Or, perhaps she’d wake up safe and sound at home, inside her own castle. Somehow that was even more terrifying.

A creaking sound made her turn around. Lucien was lowering the flag, a grim expression on his handsome face. Once it was within his reach he ripped it off almost savagely and stared at it in dislike. When he lifted his gaze to her he seemed almost sheepish.

“Burn it or throw it overboard?” he asked with a quirk of his lips.

Elain couldn’t help but smile, even with the seriousness of the situation. “Why not both?”

Lucien grinned broadly and came to stand beside her. He held out the black and red cloth and glared at it again.

“Any last words?”

Elain looked at the menacing image of the King on the flag- teeth bared, eyes narrowed, his horns curving on top of his head. “Good riddance.”

Lucien shot her a grin, and then his eyes flashed like embers in the dark and the flag caught fire. Elain gasped and instinctively backed up a step. She shouldn’t have been that surprised, given the fact that she knew Lucien must be related to the King, but seeing him exhibit magic so casually had thrown her. With a shirt hiding his back he looked so human that if she ignored the horns it was easy to forget that he wasn’t a regular man.

The fire in his gaze died away as he whipped his head towards her and winced at the look on her face.

“Sorry,” he said gently. “I didn’t mean to scare you…”

Elain shook her head and stepped closer, mesmerized by the flames. The flag was ablaze, flames licking over Lucien’s hand, and yet he didn’t so much as flinch.

They stood in heavy silence, watching solemnly as the flag continued to burn. Pieces of fabric broke off and fluttered away in the wind, and eventually Lucien let it go. It glittered in the dark for a moment, like a floating lantern, and then it was gone.

A weight seemed to lift off her shoulders, as if that flag had been the last tether holding her back. They’d done it. They had escaped.

“I can’t believe it worked,” Lucien murmured, as if reading her thoughts.

“It feels so strange,” Elain admitted. “I’ve been thinking about it for so long. It doesn’t seem real.”

Lucien’s expression turned sad. “I feel the same way.”

There were so many questions Elain wanted to ask him, but now didn’t seem like the right time. Her eyes flicked upwards against her will, to those curved horns that were so like the King’s. Identical, really.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked, almost timidly.

Elain flushed and dragged her eyes back to his face. “Of course!”

“Do I frighten you?”

Elain blushed again. He’d caught her staring at his horns.

“No!” she replied with a sheepish smile. “You just…intrigue me.”

It was Lucien’s turn to blush, enough so that she could tell even in the dark.

“Oh?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

A laugh bubbled out of her throat, and it was like all the tension of the day suddenly melted away.

“I just mean…you know more about me than I do about you.”

The amusement sparkling in Lucien’s russet eyes faded away, and he dipped his head, letting his red hair fall over his face like a curtain.

“You don’t have to tell me,” she said quickly, kicking herself mentally. He’d been as much a prisoner as she had been, of course he wouldn’t want to talk about it.

“Maybe tomorrow,” he replied, his tone weary. “For now you should rest. We’ll fly the rest of the night, and then I’ll anchor down somewhere at daybreak. We’ll need to lie low during the day to avoid detection.”

Elain nodded, suddenly so grateful that he was there with her that she could have cried. It seemed like he had thought of it all. Almost like he’d been planning for a long time and had just been waiting for an opportunity.

The question was on the tip of her tongue. Something she’d been wondering ever since he told her his plans to steal the ship.

“If you knew how to fly the ship why did you never try to escape before?”

Lucien’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Elain bit her lip but held his gaze. After a few moments his expression softened, and Elain released a breath she hadn’t known she was holding.

“Maybe I just never had a good enough reason before,” he said with a sad smile.

Elain reached out and squeezed his hand, suddenly overly warm despite the cool night wind blowing around them.

“I’m glad you found one,” she whispered.

When Elain woke up the sun was warm on her face, and it was so pleasant that for a moment she simply lounged there, like a cat.

The events of the previous night slammed into her like a tsunami, and she sat bolt upright and scrambled towards the nearest porthole. She hadn't meant to sleep through the whole night, but evidently the burst of adrenaline had worn her out.

Lucien had landed the ship in the ocean, and the gentle rocking of the waves was so soothing that Elain wasn’t surprised she’d slept this long. For a moment she was blinded by the harsh sunlight, but as her vision adjusted she saw that they weren’t in the middle of the ocean, but bobbing just off the coast of a dazzling tropical beach. The sand was as white as a clean sheet of paper, the water so clear she could see colorful fish darting through the waves. Dotting the beach were tall trees with skinny trunks and fat, swaying leaves. Elain had never seen anything like them before. She gasped in delight and practically ran back up to the deck.

When she emerged she was greeted by warm sunlight on her shoulders, and she closed her eyes and tilted her head back in delight.

“Did you sleep well?”

Elain turned and came face to face with Lucien, who looked a lot less well-rested than she felt.

There were dark purple smudges under his eyes, and a general weariness in the way he held his limbs.

“Like a baby,” she replied sheepishly. “How late is it? You look like you haven’t slept a wink…”

Lucien waved a hand vaguely. “We’re still quite south, it was safer for me to stand guard.”

“I’m sorry! You should have woken me!”

Lucien waved away her protests, throwing her a grin that made her feel warm again, and not just from the sun. He was really quite handsome, really. Objectively, of course…

“We should be safe here until nightfall,” he said. “It’s not safe to fly during the day this far south, but with the ship in the water we should be incognito enough.”

Elain looked at the deserted water behind them, and the equally deserted beach in front. She was embarrassed that she hadn’t thought of such details herself during her own daydreams of escape, but she was eternally grateful that he had.

“Do you want to see the beach?” he asked, noting the direction of her gaze.

“Oh!” In truth she did, very much so, but she was also very aware of the exhaustion radiating off of him. “Later, after you’ve had some rest.”

“But…”

“You need to sleep, Lucien! Otherwise who will fly the ship?”

She planted her hands on her hips for good measure. Her defiance was laughable, really, considering her nose was level with his chest and he was part Koopaling with flame power, but Lucien seemed to hesitate nonetheless.

“We’re still close to Koopa Kingdom,” he argued, scanning the skies. “I should stay awake in case we need to fly…”

“And if that happens you won’t be much use dead on your feet!”

Lucien seemed to hesitate again, until a yawn betrayed him, so powerful that his entire body shook. Elain gave him a pointed look.

“Fine,” he relented. “Fine. But I’m staying above deck, just in case. And please stay on the ship, and wake me up right away if you see anything suspicious…”

“Yes, yes! I’ll be right here. Now go to sleep!”

With a few more weak protests Lucien piled up a few cloaks in a shaded corner of the deck and promptly fell asleep. Elain watched the rise and fall of his chest for a few moments. He looked so innocent like this, despite the horns, despite the power she now knew coursed through his veins. At that moment he looked as innocent as a cat curled up on a pile of blankets.

Who are you, she wondered. And how did we find each other?

Elain heeded Lucien’s warning at first and stayed on the ship, curling up with a book in a shaded spot not far from where he slept. But she was so distracted that after reading the first sentence for what felt like the twentieth time she snapped the book shut. The sound of the waves crashing onto the pristine beach was hypnotizing, like a siren song calling out to her. She could almost feel the sand running through her toes, warm where it was dry and deliciously cool where it was damp…

She glanced at Lucien again. He was fast asleep, with a cloak drawn up almost all the way over his face. The skies were empty, there were no looming dangers on the horizon. And besides, they were anchored right on the beach, and she wouldn’t go far. She would run back and wake him at the first sign of danger, like she’d promised.

With only a slight twinge of guilt Elain took off her shoes and climbed down off the ship and into the shallow waves. The water was surprisingly warm, almost like a bath, and for a moment Elain stood there and let the waves lap at her ankles. The bottom of her dress was immediately soaked, so she reached down and tied her skirts in a clumsy knot around her knees. Her legs were so pale that they were practically translucent in the sunlight. Elain giggled at the thought of how indecent she must look, wading through the water with her legs exposed.

The sand was warm underneath her toes, the sun hot on her shoulders, the breeze deliciously refreshing as it ruffled her hair. Elain plopped herself down on the sand and for a while simply took it all in. She’d flown over these islands countless times, had only dreamt that she might one day see them with her own eyes, and now here she was. On the run, yes, but still.

She felt bold, free- untethered for the first time in her life. With a laugh she fell backwards on the sand, arms splayed out, the sun beating down on her. Surely she’d be the color of a tomato very shortly, but who cared? It was so peaceful, with the hypnotizing crash of the waves at her feet, and the gentle, salty breeze kissing her skin. Almost peaceful enough to forget the very real danger they were in.

So peaceful that Elain might have dozed off, right there in the sand, and when she woke her stomach was rumbling and her throat was dry. She got up and dusted the sand from her dress and hair, wincing at the already reddening skin on her legs and arms. Perhaps falling asleep in broad sunshine hadn’t been wise.

The smart thing to do would have been to go back on the ship and find some food and water (and shade) but she’d be damned if they left this island before she could explore it.

She walked up and down the length of the beach twice, peering curiously at every shell and algae and piece of driftwood brought in by the tide. Her attention kept drifting to the jungle in the distance, and with another quick glance at the ship she crossed the beach and walked into the dense vegetation.

It was cooler amongst the vegetation, and damp, like the plants had retained moisture from the last time it rained. There were those skinny trees with the swaying leaves, vivid green ferns with leaves larger than her whole body, and flowers so bright they almost looked artificial. Elain had never seen plants like this before in her life. One plant in particular caught her eye- a shrub, with large blooms that were white on the outside and pink in their center. She was plucking a few of them when a thump behind her made her jump.

She whirled, heart racing, but nobody was there. The only sounds were the waves in the distance and her own ragged breathing.

Another thump, closer this time. Elain scanned the skies and the surrounding woods with increasing dread. Could someone be concealing themselves with magic? She was suddenly regretting her decision to walk so far on her own.

Something landed by her feet with that same muffled thump, and Elain jumped in fright before realizing that the thing was not a concealed enemy, but what appeared to be a piece of fallen fruit. A shaky laugh whooshed out of her and she bent to retrieve the fruit, her stomach rumbling again. It was a round, hard shell with a fuzzy exterior, and when she shook it made a slight sloshing sound, as if there was water inside. Elain was suddenly parched.

Opening the fruit, it turned out, was much harder than it looked. She tried bashing it on a sharp branch, she stomped on it, she stabbed it with a broken shell she found on the beach. She tried everything, and nothing seemed able to crack it open. Frustrated, she grabbed the fruit and threw it against a nearby tree trunk.

A shadow fell over her accompanied by the sound of amused chuckles, and Elain turned to find Lucien standing there, eyebrows raised in amusement.

“Remind me never to get on your bad side,” he teased with a grin.

Elain blushed, biting her lip to hide her grin. His hair was mussed from sleep, and he looked adorably disheveled as he blinked sleepily against the harsh sunlight.

“I was curious what was inside, but it’s quite stubborn, it turns out…”

Lucien laughed again. “As are you, it would appear. I see you followed my warning to stay on the ship.”

Elain felt a twinge of guilt, preparing to launch into an apology, but then he threw her another grin and she realized he was teasing.

“Sorry,” she replied sheepishly. “I probably should have, I think I’m already sunburned…”

“The island look suits you.” His gaze dropped to her bare legs, and heat bloomed on her cheeks again.

Thankfully Lucien turned towards her discarded fruit and didn’t notice how flustered she became under his gaze. “Have you ever had one of these?” he called over his shoulder.

“No. I don’t even know what they’re called.”

“Coconuts!” he said with a grin.

Elain was just about to ask how he planned to open it when he lifted it above his head and impaled it on one of his horns with force. She clapped a hand to her mouth to muffle her giggles as he stood there with a silly grin on his face.

“Did that hurt?”

He shrugged, lifting the coconut off his horn with a pop. “It hurt the coconut more than me.” He held the fruit out to her with an elaborate flourish. “Your coconut, my lady.”

Elain giggled again and took a sip. The liquid inside was thick and sweet, and she drank greedily until it was empty. When she lowered it Lucien was still watching her, russet eyes glittering with amusement. It was truly unlady-like behavior, exposing her legs and drinking straight from a coconut, but she was having too much fun to care.

“And? Did it live up to your expectations?”

Elain wiped her mouth and dropped the empty shell onto the sand. “Any chance you can open a couple more?”

They spent the rest of the afternoon exploring the beach and jungle, sipping from coconuts until there was a mountain of shells on the beach. Lucien was good company, the conversation between them so easy and comfortable that if it weren’t for the way he kept scanning the skies with worry, it might have been nothing more than a fun afternoon with a friend.

As the afternoon sun started making its descent towards the horizon they sat side by side on the shore to watch the sunset. They were sitting so close together than Elain could feel Lucien’s body warmth, and she had to resist the urge to lean her head against his shoulder. With everything that had happened it was hard to believe that they were still practically strangers.

“I wish we could stay here longer,” Lucien said with a sigh, breaking their comfortable silence.

The vividly blue sky was fading into pinks and purples, the sun a fiery orb on the horizon. He sounded so melancholy that Elain scooted closer to him until their sides were touching.

“Me too.”

“Maybe one day,” he said sadly. “When it’s safe.”

Neither of them said anything for a while, but Elain was sure they were both thinking the same thing. Would they ever be safe, while the King was out there, hunting them? She glanced up at Lucien and flushed when she saw he was already looking at her. Elain dipped her head, unsure how to ask what she was so desperate to know. They’d kept their conversations light all day, and she’d given the topic of Lucien’s backstory a wide berth.

“You haven’t asked,” he said softly, as if reading her mind. He bumped her shoulder gently and Elain forced herself to meet his intense gaze.

“I didn’t want to push.”

Lucien was quiet for so long that she almost told him to forget about it, but then he sighed and turned to face the sunset. The bright red glow of the setting sun made his ruby hair glitter like a dying fire and set sharp contrasts on the angular panes of his face.

“My father was the previous King of Koopa Kingdom,” he started, still staring off into the distance.

Elain’s eyes widened at his sudden admission. She had suspected as much, but knowing that it was true made it even more horrible. Elain didn’t have any siblings, but she couldn’t imagine being on bad terms with your brother to the point of being held captive.

“Koopa Kingdom wasn’t always the way it is now. When I was young it was as lush and beautiful as the plains around Mushroom Castle. We had farms, lakes, rivers. I spent the majority of my youth avoiding lessons and duties in favor of climbing trees.”

That made Elain smile. For some reason she could picture it- young Lucien, a devilish grin on his face, hiding in the branches as his mother called out to him.

“And then…” he trailed off, his russet eyes shuttering with the memories. “The volcano was the physical catalyst, but our court had been rotting from the inside out for a long time. By the time our lands became covered with lava my family was as broken as the land. My brothers were greedy, my father cruel, and in the end they all destroyed each other. Except…except for the current king, of course…”

He took a deep, shuttering breath and let it out with a woosh. “It wasn’t so much that I was a prisoner and more that I had nowhere else to go.”

It was so sad, so unfair, and Elain’s heart was heavy for him, her new friend. She leaned her cheek against his shoulder and felt him stiffen for a moment before he relaxed again.

“The King told me not to speak of you with anyone but him.”

Lucien seemed to hesitate. “The King works hard to maintain a certain image to the rest of the world. I guess I’m a threat to that.”

Because he wasn’t cruel and evil like the rest of that doomed kingdom, but kind, and good. There was nothing Elain could say to that, so she simply sat next to him and watched as the sun burned hot and then slipped away below the horizon.

“Are you sure about this?” Lucien asked warily. It seemed like a supremely bad idea to him but Elain seemed so excited that he didn’t have the heart to tell her no.

“Yes! Just hold still.”

Lucien grumbled vaguely but sat still as Elain wrapped the cloth around his face, carefully avoiding his horns. He glanced out of the nearest porthole and winced.

“It looks like a really bad sand storm,” he tried again.

The Island territory was so vast that it had taken them over a week of flying only at night to clear it. Lucien had breathed a sigh of relief when they had finally crossed over into the deserts, but his relief had quickly faded when the clear, sunny skies of the islands had made way for a raging, unrelenting sand storm. He’d been forced to land the ship on the outskirts of a half-submerged town, and they’d been grounded for two days.

“Exactly,” Elain declared. “Nobody would be stupid enough to go outside in this weather, you said it yourself. We’ll be perfectly safe.”

Her eyes kept flitting down to his bare chest as she spoke, her cheeks tinged pink, and Lucien resisted the urge to flex under her gaze. He kept telling himself that it was too damn hot to wear a shirt, but in truth his choice of wardrobe had more to do with how she bit her lip and blushed every time she glanced at him. Elain herself had cut off the skirts of a few of her dresses at the knee, and it was a supreme effort to not keep glancing down at her bare legs.

“Fine,” he reluctantly agreed. “But we shouldn’t go far, it’s easy to get lost around here…” Elain’s eyes shone with excitement as she fashioned her own head scarf out of stray scraps of fabric. “You worry too much. I bet they’re not even looking for us anymore.”

Lucien’s stomach churned with guilt. It was his fault that this was her life now, constantly looking over her shoulder, wearing disguises to avoid being recognized. He could believe that his own people might not be inclined to come looking for him, but they both knew Elain’s friends wouldn’t rest until she was found. There would be a confrontation at some point, and Lucien was dreading it.

The sand stung his exposed skin when they climbed off the ship, and he immediately regretted his choice of clothing. Judging from the way Elain was huddling into him he guessed she was having the same thoughts.

“We can go back…” His words were swallowed by the howling wind, but before he could say anything else Elain had grabbed his hand and dragged him towards the village in the distance.

The wind was so strong that though they kept walking the village never seemed to get any closer. Lucien pointed out a shimmering spot on the horizon, which turned out to not be a mirage as he had expected, but an oasis. The shallow pond was shaded with large palms, and it would have been an idyllic spot, if not for the raging storm around them.

Every few minutes Lucien looked over his shoulder to make sure the ship was still visible. The last thing they needed was to get lost in the desert and have to ask someone for help. By now the sand had piled up so high that the hull was half covered. If the storm didn’t let up soon they’d be forced to either take off and take their chances in the sky, or risk getting buried to the point of no return.

Elain had bundled her makeshift headscarf so tightly around her face that he could only see her eyes, but the jab she gave him in the ribs said everything he couldn’t see from her expression.

“What?”

She rolled her eyes and poked him again. “STOP WORRYING!” she yelled, her voice muffled by fabric and wind.

Lucien grinned at her even though she couldn’t see it and held up his hands in surrender. Elain’s eyes glittered, and Lucien knew he’d never get tired of that sight. Even if it wouldn’t last, couldn’t last. He’d enjoy her happiness while it lasted.

He was still staring at her when her eyes widened and she excitedly pointed to a spot in the distance. They had just arrived at the top of a large dune, and suddenly the village appeared in front of them.

Village was perhaps an exaggeration. It was more a collection of brightly-colored buildings, the sand-swept roads dotted with cactuses standing tall like soldiers. Strangest of all, however, were the ruins. Just beyond the edge of the village was a large inverted pyramid, sticking out of sand as it defied gravity. Lucien could see something prowling in front of the entrance, and he grabbed Elain’s hand and led her towards the village before she could lead him towards the pyramid instead. He’d had plenty of encounters with sphinxes before, and he didn’t need to add one to his current list of anxieties.

The village was mostly deserted, with only a few brave souls bundled like they were hurrying to their destinations. As they walked Elain looked around with wide eyes, her delight so palpable he could almost feel it. She hadn’t removed her hand from his, and his skin tingled from the contact.

In the center of the village was a square, with a large marble statue in the center, a small chapel, and several shops with closed signs in their windows. Everything was covered in plants- cactuses coming out of the ground, window boxes full of colorful blooms, walls covered with ivy. They heard music coming from what looked like a restaurant, and before he could protest Elain had dragged him inside.

It was such a relief to be out of the storm that he didn’t even protest. There were lazy fans circling overhead, sending cool air on his overheated skin, and the atmosphere was relaxed and jolly. Elain looked up at him through her eyelashes in what he was quickly beginning to recognize as her signature pleading look, and Lucien sighed in resignation. It was no use trying to fight against those eyes, and besides, he was hot and tired and all he wanted to do was sit and drink an entire pitcher of ice water.

He let himself be led to a table, grateful that it was in a relatively dark and quiet corner of the restaurant. Elain went to unwrap her headscarf but Lucien grabbed her wrist to stop her. Elain might never have been here before, but that didn’t mean her face wouldn’t be recognized throughout the kingdom. She nodded in comprehension and unwrapped her face only enough to eat, letting the fabric hang low over her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Lucien murmured. “It’s just, if someone recognizes you, they might think I’ve taken you by force…” But isn’t that what you’ve done? Isn’t that what she’ll realize, when she finds out who you are?

Elain reached across the table to squeeze his hand, and Lucien was suddenly glad for his own head scarf so she couldn't see him flush at the contact.

“Don’t feel bad,” she replied fiercely. “It’s my fault we’re on the run. I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me.” Lucien must have looked uncertain at that, and she squeezed his hand for emphasis. “Truly, without you I’d still be in that tower. Or worse, in my own castle.”

She looked so miserable at the thought that Lucien’s stomach twisted. “Was it really so bad that you needed to run away? Couldn’t you have told your people that you wanted more than a quiet life in a castle?”

Elain shook her head grimly. “They wouldn’t have understood. To them I’m little more than a symbol. A pretty, agreeable monarch they can sit on a throne and show off to the entire Kingdom.” Her eyes flashed as she spoke, and Lucien’s blood sang for her, and for that spark he saw in her. She might be his prisoner in a way, but never again would he lock her up in a tower. “My life there was so dull that sometimes I thought I might die of boredom.” “And now look at you,” he teased, wanting to lighten the mood. “On the run with this.” He gestured at the horns poking out of the fabric wrapped around his head, and she laughed.

Dishes were brought out, fragrant meats, roasted vegetables, bowls of rice, crunchy bread. Elain chatted as they ate, telling him about her childhood, her dreams, how she’d always wanted to travel but had never been allowed to. Lucien avoided her questions when he could, and spun white lies when he couldn’t, hating himself more with every lie he told her.

A band was playing in the corner, and at some point people drifted onto a dance floor in front of the stage. Their waiter had brought them a bottle of clear liquor along with their food, and Lucien had downed just enough of it to feel relaxed and slightly reckless.

Their dishes were cleared, and Elain sat back in her chair, looking at the dancers with a wistful smile tugging at her lips.

“Would you like to dance?” Lucien blurted.

She looked at him in surprise, her cheeks turning pink. Lucien downed another shot of the burning liquor, feeling like an idiot. He was just about to tell her to forget about it when she smiled shyly at him.

“I would love to dance.”

Lucien grinned and held out his hand. Elain blushed again as she took his hand, letting him lead her to the dancefloor. A few people glanced at his horns warily, stepping back to make room for them.

A singer had joined the group of guitarists, and she launched into a slow, melancholy tune. Lucien didn’t let himself overthink it as he took one of Elain’s hands in his and pressed the other to her lower back. They swayed in time with the music, and Lucien decided if he were to die that night he would die happy.

After a few minutes Elain tilted her head back to look at him, and she looked so happy and trusting that Lucien couldn’t breathe. He’d had enough of the liquor to shove aside his guilt and let himself indulge in the feel of her in his arms. It felt so good, so right.

His gaze dipped to her rosy lips and it was an exercise in self control to not cradle her face and kiss her in the middle of this restaurant. She might trust him, but as far as Elain knew they had only known each other for a few weeks.

“Lucien?” she asked shyly.

“Yes?”

She bit her lip, and Lucien couldn’t help the breath that wooshed out of him at the sight.

“I’m really glad I met you.”

Lucien stopped swaying, his heart beating so swiftly he thought he might vomit. “I’m really glad I met you, too,” he murmured.

She smiled at him, more radiant than the sun, and he grinned back, feeling silly with his affection for her.

Elain let go of his hand to wrap her arms around his neck, and then she closed the gap between them and laid her cheek against his chest. Her sweet scent filled his nostrils, and Lucien held her close, pretending just for tonight that they were two normal people, and not two monarchs on the run.

The temperature cooled as they continued their journey, past the rolling plains surrounding Mushroom Castle and towards the dense Forests to the north. Lucien had deemed it safe to start flying during the day, and Elain was glad- the Forests were dark and gloomy and if they absolutely had to land there she would rather do it at night when she was asleep than during the day.

The woods were dense, and by the time they found a clearing large enough to fit their ship night had fallen. All around them loomed impossibly tall trees, some so tall that Elain could barely see the tops of them. It was eerily quiet in the woods, as if even the wind didn’t dare make too much noise. The only sound around them was the soft bubbling of a creek, and the occasional sound of an animal in the distance. Elain wasn’t sure what kind of animals lived in these parts, but she wasn’t too keen on venturing out to find out.

Lucien, it seemed, didn’t share in her fears, and he stood out on the deck and looked around the woods with a wide grin on his face. As the distance between them and Koopa Kingdom grew he seemed more and more relaxed, his anxiety giving way to easy smiles that sent Elain’s stomach fluttering.

Something had shifted between them that day in the desert, when they had held each other close as they swayed to the music. Their easy camaraderie was still there, but it felt charged, taunt, with every casual brush of fingers or lingering look feeding fire to the flames.

Elain couldn’t explain it, the pull she felt towards him. It almost felt as if she had known him for a lot longer than she had. Sometimes she caught him looking at her with an intensity that left her breathless, like he could see right through her, all the good and the bad.

“How do you feel about fresh fish for dinner?” Lucien asked from where he stood on the deck, bringing her out of her reverie.

Elain flushed as she realized she had been staring at him. “You think it’s safe out there?” she asked uncertainly.

“Where’s the adventurer who dragged me out into a sand storm?” he teased.

“Aren’t there…animals, and things?”

Lucien shrugged and made a vague motion with his hand that didn’t quite put her at ease. “Sure, but nothing too menacing. The only thing we really need to worry about are the giant goombas, but they’re quite skittish. Besides, we’ll be able to hear them from miles away.”

Elain gaped at him in horror, and Lucien winced. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “That’s probably not what you wanted to hear, but I promise we’ll be fine. Tell you what,” he added, as Elain stayed frozen on the spot, “If you can help me gather some firewood I’ll light a fire, it should help to keep them away.”

Elain was still not convinced but she followed him off the ship regardless, figuring that at the very least she would rather be near Lucien if they were attacked by a herd of giants. Lucien grinned and pointed to a spot near the creek before rolling his pants up to his knees and walking right into the water. She was about to ask what he was doing when he reached into the water and chucked a fish towards her. He’d tied up his long ruby hair, a few strands coming loose to frame his face, and Elain knew she was staring but she absolutely could not help it.

“Didn’t I give you a job?” he teased, winking at her.

“Just making sure you don’t drown!” she quipped back, lowering her gaze firmly to the ground in search of firewood. “I can’t fly that ship, you know!” Suddenly she was glad to have the cover of darkness to hide her blush.

“I should teach you.”

Elain dropped the pile of sticks she was holding and turned to stare at him again. “Really?”

Lucien shrugged and swooped down to catch another fish. “You should know how. It’s easy, really, it’s only the landing that can get tricky sometimes. Maybe we can practice once we’re north, the snow will make for a nicer landing.”

The mention of their destination made her stomach clench with unease. She’d been putting off asking him about his plans after they arrived north, afraid to hear what his answer would be. She didn’t know if she had the nerve to ask him to stay, and if he would even consider it if she did ask.

Lucien waded out of the creek and frowned at her pitiful pile of sticks. “Let’s only hope you’re better at flying than at gathering firewood.”

Elain crossed her arms and lifted her chin with mock defiance. “I guess it depends on how good a teacher you are.”

Lucien’s grin was nothing short of wicked, and when their gazes locked she saw a flame had sparked to life in his russet eyes. It shouldn’t have taken her by surprise but for a moment she couldn’t breathe. All of a sudden she was back in Mushroom Castle, holding her ground as the King Koopa stared her down with that same fiery gaze.

The very same eyes, though one set belonged on a giant reptile and the other on a…what was he, exactly? Not quite a man, not quite Koopa.

My brothers were greedy, my father cruel, and in the end they all destroyed each other. Except…except for the current king, of course…

How could he be so different and yet so similar?

Lucien was giving her that look again- the one with the intensity of a forge, the one that almost looked like a question. Or else, like an offer.

With a supreme effort Elain tore her gaze away from those eyes, suddenly afraid that she might know what that question was. That maybe she had suspected all along.

They ate their grilled fish by the fire, sitting side by side on a blanket. The flames crackled merrily in front of them, and it might have been romantic, had it not been for the sudden tension in the air, so thick he could almost feel it.

Elain knew. Or else she strongly suspected, Lucien was certain of it.

He had done something, or said something. He wasn’t sure what, but how else to explain her sudden shift in behavior? One minute she had been joking around with him as usual, and the next she had stared at him as if she had never seen him before.

She didn’t seem afraid, and yet- she hadn’t been afraid of him for a long time. Was it simply self-preservation that prevented her from trying to run away from him, or something else?

Elain bit her lip and glanced at him furtively for what was probably the hundredth time in the last twenty minutes.

“Are you alright?” he asked, trying to sound concerned and yet casual at the same time.

Are you freaking out because you’ve just realized that I’M actually the fire breathing monster we’ve been supposedly running away from this entire time?

Do you see me?

Do you see?

“I’m fine,” she mumbled, dipping her chin so that her thick curls hid her face like a curtain.

Before he could stop himself Lucien reached out and gently swept her hair over her shoulder. He heard her sharp inhale, but she didn’t recoil from him as he had expected her to.

“Look at me,” he whispered.

See me.

She looked up at him, her fawn-coloured eyes wide and reflecting the flickering flames. He moved his fingers from her hair to her cheek, and she leaned into his touch, ever so slightly. “Tell me,” he prompted.

Elain seemed to hesitate, but she held his gaze. “Why are you not afraid of King Koopa catching up to us?”

It was no use trying to deny it, and besides, he didn’t want to. He had never meant to lie to her more than strictly necessary.

“I think you know,” he murmured, his heart in his throat. He brushed his thumb across her cheekbone, wanting to freeze this moment forever in his mind.

“Who are you?” It didn’t sound like a demand, or an accusation, but merely like curiosity.

Lucien shifted closer to her until she had to tilt her head back to look at him. His horns cast menacing shadows behind her, but she didn’t cower from him. Instead he watched as her eyes dipped towards his mouth, and her own rosy pink lips parted as her breath quickened.

“You know me, Princess.”

Princess. If she hadn’t suspected before then she had to now. Her eyes widened slightly, the only indication that she had understood. Yet still she didn’t move away.

“Do I?” she whispered.

Lucien leaned down until their noses were only an inch apart. Her pulse was racing underneath his fingertips, keeping time with his own erratic heartbeat. “Yes. You’re the only one who ever has.”

“Why?” Her question was no more than an exhaled breath.

Instead of answering he closed the gap between them, pressing his lips to hers in a feather-like kiss. More like a caress of lips, gentle enough that she could push him away if she wanted to.

But when her hands crept up to his chest and wrapped into his shirt it wasn’t to push, but to pull him closer. Lucien kissed her again, firmly this time, and she fell into him, snaking her hands up around his neck.

Elain sighed against his lips and Lucien drank in the sound, reveling in every little noise she made, in the taste and scent and feel of her. He’d been dreaming about this for so long that it didn’t seem real. Surely she would push away, slap him, punch him, and he’d deserve it, and so much more…

But she didn’t, so Lucien only wrapped an arm around her back and buried his other hand in her hair and lost himself in her. He ran his tongue along her bottom lip and tasted the charred fish they’d eaten mixed with the taste of her, and it was so heady that he didn’t notice the rumbling in the distance. Especially not as she parted her lips and her own tongue darted out to brush against his own, her fingers tangling in his hair in a way that was sure to drive him mad.

He didn’t hear anything at all until Elain broke the kiss and stared at him with eyes that were wide with surprise, her rosy lips slightly parted.

Here it is, he thought. He braced himself for the slap, the anger, the accusations. But just as he opened his mouth to launch into a torrent of apologies she pressed a finger to his lips to silence him.

“Did you hear that?”

Lucien frowned, following the direction of her gaze. “Hear what?”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth he felt it as much as he heard it. The ground shook with vibrations that reminded him horribly of that first volcano eruption at Castle Koopa, a sign of something terrible and ominous approaching. Lucien’s mouth went dry, and he jumped to his feet, holding Elain close as if he could keep her safe by sheer will.

“What’s…”

“Giants,” he said simply.

By some miracle they seemed to be approaching from the opposite side of the clearing from where he had landed the ship. The last they needed was to be on the run and on foot.

Elain gasped and clutched him tighter, her eyes scanning the dark forest wildly. Some idiotic, male part of him was preening at the fact that she considered him her protector in this situation, and not just one more monster.

“Run back to the ship, Elain,” he urged.

“What?! What do you mean, shouldn’t we leave?”

Lucien shook his head, just as the sound of falling trees echoed from the other side of the clearing.

“If we try to run they might catch up and attack the ship. I’ll have to hold them off for a while so we can take off.”

“You can’t fight off giants! You don’t even have any weapons…”

“Fire,” Lucien said simply. “They’re scared of fire.”

Elain gaped at him incredulously before glancing at the small fire they had cooked their meal on, her gaze so uncertain that he almost wanted to laugh.

But then three giant misshapen forms crashed into the clearing, and Elain let out a shriek of terror. The giants started at the sudden noise and then turned their beady eyes in their direction.

“ELAIN, RUN!”

With a wave of his hand their cozy fire exploded into a bonfire, and with that he took off at a run towards the giants, shifting as he went into the reptilian form of King Koopa.

Elain was frozen on the spot. First by the looming, impossibly tall shapes of the giants lumbering through the trees.

And then by the sight of what attacked them.

It shouldn’t have been that much of a shock. Lucien had more or less admitted the truth, but suspecting it and seeing it with her own eyes were two different things altogether.

It happened so quickly that she hardly tracked the movement. One moment Lucien was running through the clearing, ruby hair flying behind him, and the next he had shifted into the monstrous form of King Koopa without so much as stumbling. His roar broke the eerie silence of the woods, and the startled yells of the giants were loud enough that Elain felt the vibration through the ground.

The first burst of flame out of Lucien shook her out of her trance, but she didn’t run to the ship. She was rooted to the ground, her eyes trained on the great, scaled beast that scorched the forest to ash before her very eyes.

Elain wasn’t afraid, not as much as she should be, at least, and she knew that maybe she would never be again. There was no enemy he wouldn’t face for her, no corner of the earth he wouldn’t take her to if she asked. She knew it in her heart, just like she had known not to be afraid of him.

She might not be a fighter, but she wasn’t a damsel in distress either, so she stood in front of his flames and watched as the feared beast lit the woods on fire. The giants shrieked and stumbled into each other with fright, but Lucien was faster and smarter. Soon a barrier of fire stood between them and the giants, and with an ear-splitting roar of frustration they retreated back into the woods.

Lucien roared back, illuminating the night with flame, and one of the giants swiped at him before retreating after his fellows.

Elain screamed again and broke into a run as Lucien flew through the air before landing with a loud thud. When he didn’t immediately move white-hot panic shot through her, and she couldn’t remember ever being this afraid.

“LUCIEN!”

Elain threw herself to the ground beside him, and then he stirred, groaning faintly.

“Lucien!” Elain reached out a hand and pressed it to his cheek. His skin was rough and textured with scales, but when he stirred again and opened his eyes it was the same russet eyes she had always known.

“M’okay…” he murmured, pushing himself up into a sitting position with some difficulty. He was so large that she had to stand to be at eye level with him.

“Are you hurt?!” She scanned him from head to toe, sagging with relief when she saw he seemed unharmed.

“I’m alright, Princess.” He smiled ruefully. “Takes more than a giant to take me down.”

Elain loosed a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding, and before she could stop herself she threw her arms around him and buried her face in his neck. His skin was rough but warm, unnaturally so, like she had always imagined it to be.

Lucien wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off the ground as he stood. “Let’s go,” he murmured.

Elain let him carry her back to the ship, her face still pressed against his neck. How many times had he done exactly this?

When he set her down it was with the gentleness of a less menacing creature, one who didn’t breathe fire or have horns on his head. Except now she knew the two could be one and the same.

“Eyes up here, Princess,” he said with a slight smirk, pointing to his face.

Elain frowned, wondering if he was pointing to an injury she had missed. But then with a faint burst of fiery light he shifted, and the person she simply knew as Lucien stood in front of her again. Elain didn’t mean to look, but a quick dip of her gaze quickly revealed that his clothing had apparently not survived the transition. She whirled, partly to give him privacy but mostly to hide the heat rising up her face, and Lucien chuckled.

She heard him shuffling around, and then they were airborne, the blaze falling away below them.

And then she felt more than heard him walk up behind her. Elain didn’t know why she was suddenly nervous, only that she desperately wanted to go back to that moment by the fire.

“I’m sorry.”

Elain turned to look at him and saw that his handsome face was wracked with guilt. He’d wrapped a stray blanket around his waist but had left his chest bare. “What for? You saved us.”

Lucien smiled wryly. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

Elain couldn’t help a little grin of her own, even with her heart beating a staccato rhythm in her chest. “The only other time you’ve apologized to me is when you kidnapped me at night instead of during the day.”

Lucien loosed a shaky laugh. “Well, that was pretty shitty…”

The fact that he sounded nervous too made her feel bold, and she took a step forward until she had to lift her chin to look up at him.

“Are you going to apologize for the rest?” she asked.

“Should I?” Elain quirked an eyebrow, and his answering grin was the definition of smug. “Was it really kidnapping, if you came willingly?”

“If I remember correctly I did ask you not to take me,” she shot back.

She expected him to chuckle, for his eyes to light with flame, but he only stared at her. And then something in his gaze shuttered, and his throat bobbed.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Elain was so taken aback by the sincerity in his tone that she didn’t know what to say.

“I’m sorry for tricking you,” he continued. He lifted a hand to brush her hair back from her face, letting his fingers skim her cheek. “I never meant…I just…”

“You just what?” she pushed.

“I’ve loved you since the first moment I ever laid eyes on you, and it’s made me very, very stupid.”

Elain flushed again, both from the admission and the obvious regret in his eyes.

“When you said you didn’t want to go back home…you sounded so desperate, I would have done anything for you. I still would do anything for you. Tell me where you want to go, and I’ll take you there. Anywhere.” His voice sounded choked, his gaze fierce as he looked at her.

“And then?” she asked in a small voice.

Lucien swallowed thickly, still staring at her as though he meant to memorize her face.

“And then I’ll leave you alone. I promise.”

Elain’s heart stuttered with panic. Surely he knew that’s not what she wanted? When she opened her mouth to protest he pressed a finger to her lips to silence her, as she had done earlier.

“I thought you might come to love me, too,” he said miserably. “If you knew the real me, if you saw that there’s more to me than just the monster…”

Elain pushed his hand away. “You’re not a monster, Lucien. Stop saying that.”

Lucien blinked, his mouth opening and closing comically.

“And who says I don’t?” she continued, almost defiantly.

“Who says you don’t…what?”

He looked so hopeful and confused that she could only smile. “Who says I don’t love you, stupid?”

For a moment he looked confused still, frowning as if he couldn’t comprehend what she had said. And then a spark came to life in his eyes, and his smile was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

“Does that mean you don’t want me to leave you alone?” he murmured, wrapping his arms around her back and drawing her in close.

“You really are very, very, stupid if you haven’t figured that out yet.”

He dipped his head until his breath tickled her lips. “Good. Because I don’t think I would have been able to anyway.”

Elain rolled her eyes and shoved him playfully, but then his lips were on hers again, his mouth curving into a smile as he kissed her. She sighed and melted into the kiss, pressing her palms against his bare chest. His lips were warm and soft, his fingers impossibly gentle as he cradled the back of her head, and it felt so right that she thought her heart might burst. He tasted like smoke and fresh air, and she wanted to drink him in, to fill her senses with him until he became a part of her.

It didn’t matter that they were two runaways, both with titles and subjects they should be looking over instead of traveling the world like vagabonds. The only thing that mattered was that they were together, in that moment, on the deck of a flying ship with nothing but the moon and stars as their witness.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, searching, tongues languidly exploring, hands gently caressing. And then Lucien’s teeth nipped playfully at her bottom lip, and it was like something inside her snapped. Their embrace turned hungry, greedy, years of tension being set free like a dormant volcano unleashing itself onto the world. She ran her hands up his torso, feeling the muscled contours of his rippled stomach and broad chest, before burying her hands into his hair to tug him closer. Lucien growled against her mouth, sending a shiver of heat through her.

Suddenly she was all too aware of not just the fact that Lucien was only wearing a blanket wrapped around his hips, but that she could feel his hard cock pressing against her.

All coherent thought faded along with her restraint, and before she could stop herself she ran her hands back down his chest, letting her nails scrape his skin slightly. With slightly shaky fingers she started to undo the knot holding up his blanket, but with a lightning-quick movement Lucien grabbed her wrists to still them.

“What’s your hurry, Princess?” he asked, his voice low and husky with desire. His russet eyes were ablaze like the volcano that raged over his lands, and the sight made Elain’s knees go weak.

“Let me see you,” she complained. She didn’t care how pathetic she sounded- at that moment there was nothing she wanted more than to see him naked in front of her.

“That’s hardly fair, is it? I’m at a clear disadvantage here,” he teased.

Elain was about to growl in frustration when his hands moved to her neck to undo the clasp on her cloak. The fabric fell to the floor with a woosh, and she shivered at the cold air seeping through the long sleeves of her dress. Lucien waved a hand and the air around them instantly warmed as he wrapped them in a bubble of warmth.

She shivered again but not from cold as his hands trailed down her back and tugged gently at the laces of her dress. He dipped his head and started pressing a trail of kisses up her throat, all the way from her shoulder to the sensitive skin below her ear. Elain’s mind was mush, all her senses focused solely on him and the feel of his lips and hands on her.

Her hands wandered, sliding over the emerald green plates of armor on his back. They felt like hardened leather, smooth but hard as a shell. Lucien hissed sharply and nipped at her neck with his teeth.

“Sorry,” she gasped.

Lucien laughed, a low rumbling sound. “You can touch me anywhere you like, Elain.”

With that pulled the laces free and ran his hands up her bare back before tugging the dress over her shoulders. Elain shimmied the fabric down her hips until it fell in a heap on top of her discarded cloak and she stood bare from the waist up, in nothing but her undergarments.

Lucien’s gaze was so hungry that Elain was surprised she hadn’t burst into flames yet. A little keening noise escaped his lips as his gaze roved over her body, and it made Elain feel bold.

“Your turn,” she said, slightly more breathlessly than she would have liked.

Lucien smirked with pure male arrogance. “Fair is fair,” he agreed. He swiftly undid the knot holding up his blanket and then it, too, fell to the floor.

Elain’s eyes dipped to the carved muscles of his lower stomach, to the trail of red hair below his belly button, and then her mouth went dry at the sight of his cock, long and thick and achingly hard. Her fingers moved of their own accord to wrap around the base of him, stroking experimentally, and Lucien tipped his head back and groaned.

She gasped as he hoisted her up into his arms again, as easily and smoothly as if she weighed nothing at all. It might have been wrong but she loved how small she felt in his arms, how large and powerful he was by comparison. She held his fiery gaze as he walked her down the stairs to his own cabin and set her down on his bed with a gentleness that made her heart ache.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his eyes soft with affection. “How did I get so lucky?”

“You kidnapped a Princess,” Elain replied with a giggle.

“Ahh yes, that’s right. And what a decision that was.”

“Kiss me, Lucien.”

Lucien obliged, kissing her hungrily, as if he wanted to drink her in. His hands caressed up the sides of her body to fondle her breasts, squeezing as he teased her nipples with his thumbs. Elain arched into his touch, desperate for more.

“Lucien…” She didn’t know what she wanted to say, other than more.

“Yes?” he whispered. “Tell me what you want.”

He lowered his mouth to press kisses along her collarbone. Elain’s fingers moved of their own accord to trail along the curved length of his horns, wondering if he would be able to feel it. They felt like the armor on his back, and he shivered at her touch.

“Tell me,” he prompted.

His mouth moved lower still to lick and suck at her breasts, and Elain could only moan, tangling her fingers in his hair. She didn’t know how he managed to remain coherent when words were inconceivable to her.

“Touch me,” she moaned.

His teeth grazed her nipple and she hissed at the jolt of pain. He kissed and caressed the reddened skin, so unhurried that it only made Elain more wild.

“Here?” he asked, sliding his hand up the inside of her thigh.

Elain wriggled her hips, as if it would bring his fingers higher to where she wanted them.

“Or maybe here?”

His fingers slid higher still, and they moaned in unison as he teased her through the thin fabric of her underwear. She was so wet that she could feel the fabric clinging to her as Lucien’s long fingers rubbed her maddeningly slowly.

With a quick tug he had tugged her underwear down her legs. Elain squirmed, suddenly shy under his gaze, so dark and hungry she might as well have been a meal.

But then Lucien was moving down her body, pressing kisses to her stomach and dipping his tongue into her bellybutton, and her shyness faded into mindless lust.

The handful of men she’d been with had been mediocre at best with their mouths, but somehow she knew that wouldn’t be the case with Lucien. He hooked her legs over his shoulders and smirked at her devilishly before licking a hot stripe straight up her center. That one lick was like a revelation, the world re-forming itself into something new.

Elain’s fingers flew to his hair, tangling in the silken strands to hold him there. The noises coming out of her might have been embarrassing had she not been too addled by lust to care.

Lucien took his time, teasing her as if she was a meal he wanted to savor. He ran his tongue through her slick folds, he clamped his mouth around her clit, he licked and sucked and teased, moaning against her as if he was enjoying this as much as she was.

When she felt him tease her entrance with his fingertip her hips bowed off the bed, silently urging him for more. Lucien only laughed with the flat of his tongue pressed against her, the vibration of it sending straight fire through her.

“Say please,” he teased, looking up at her with eyes so full of lust that she nearly came undone from the heat in them.

“Please,” she whined, uncaring how pathetic she might sound. She’d make him beg later.

Lucien smirked and slowly slid a finger inside her, and then another, pumping in and out as he continued to stare at her. Pleasure was building inside her, coiling tight in the pit of her stomach.

“Tell me you’re mine,” Lucien growled, increasing his pace. She was so wet that she could hear the slick slide of his fingers as he pumped her roughly.

“Yours,” she moaned.

Lucien dipped his mouth back to her, his earlier leisurely explorations replaced with an urgency that matched Elain’s growing desperation. She was wriggling her hips against his face with abandon, chasing the pleasure growing inside her, shimmering just out of reach. Lucien crooked his fingers, hitting a spot inside her that had her seeing stars, and then she was flying off the edge, his name falling from her lips in a scream.

Lucien rode her through it, prolonging her pleasure with his fingers and tongue. When her vision came back to normal he kissed the inside of her quivering thighs before moving back up her body to press a scorching kiss to her lips. Elain could taste herself on him and instead of being repulsive it only made her burn hotter.

Her hands roved over his body as she pulled him to her, gripping him as if she could bring him closer still. His cock twitched against her stomach and she reached down to stroke him again. Lucien groaned, tipping his head back again, exposing the smooth column of his neck. Suddenly Elain was desperate to taste him, to brand him as hers just as surely as she was his. She leaned forward and licked directly over his Adam's apple, watching it bob as he swallowed thickly.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he groaned.

Elain huffed a laugh and pushed at his chest until he fell to the bed to lie on his back. Elain straddled him, running her hands over every inch of his ripple abs, watching with pleasure as his chest heaved. Lucien’s eyes were dark with want, his sensuous lips red and slightly parted. His red hair was splayed out around his horns, and truly Elain didn’t think she had ever seen anyone so beautiful.

She moved down his body until his twitching cock was inches from her mouth, and then she looked up at him through her eyelashes with her eyes widened in innocence.

“Say please, Your Highness,” she murmured.

Lucien laughed darkly, rising up on his elbows to watch. “Kings don’t beg,” he said with a smirk.

It was Elain’s turn to laugh. “Oh no?” She pressed a sweet kiss to his hip, and then the other, studiously avoiding the throbbing member directly in front of her face.

Lucien slid a hand to the back of her neck and she swatted him away. “Maybe you don’t want me to taste you?” she asked sweetly.

Lucien groaned. “I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.”

Elain noted with satisfaction how on edge he was starting to sound. “All you have to do is say please. Please, Princess,” she amended.

She licked up the deep V muscle carved on his hip and Lucien made a sound that was more a whine than a moan.

“What do you say?” she prompted, blowing gently on his twitching cock.

“Fine, you win,” he moaned. “Please, Princess.”

Elain chuckled with victory and then pressed the flat of her tongue to the underside of his cock, licking up the throbbing vein there. Lucien’s answering groan was guttural as his fingers came to rest at the back of her neck.

A bead of moisture was already gathering at the tip of his cock and she swiped her tongue over it, tasting the musky and salty taste of him. She sucked the tip of his cock into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the swollen head, and Lucien slumped back on the bed, his fingers tightening in her hair.

“Fuck, Elain,” he choked out.

Elain wouldn’t previously have considered herself as someone who enjoyed sucking cock, but knowing she had this effect on Lucien suddenly changed her mind.

He was so large that when she sucked him deeper she could hardly manage half of him, but judging from the breathless moans coming out of Lucien it hardly seemed to matter. She made up the difference with her hand, stroking him in time with her bobbing mouth.

“You’re going to have to stop that,” he groaned.

Elain chuckled with his cock still in her mouth, earning another animalistic groan from Lucien. She gasped as he hauled her up, his cock springing from her mouth with a pop.

“I said stop that,” he growled.

“You weren’t enjoying that?” Elain asked with a smirk.

“I need to be inside you right now.”

His words and tone sent her blood boiling, and when the tip of his cock dragged through her wet folds she gasped.

“Please,” was all she could say.

Lucien guided her hips down and Elain braced herself against his chest as she sank onto his length, gasping at the spark of pain as she stretched around him. When she was fully seated on him she stilled, letting herself adjust to the feel of him inside her. Lucien’s eyes were closed, his brow furrowed with pleasure.

Elain rolled her hips experimentally and both of them groaned in unison. She set a slow pace, grinding her hips languidly, reveling in the deep groans coming out of Lucien.

Having Lucien inside her was pure ecstasy, like he had been made for her. His hands were everywhere, sliding up her body and teasing her nipples as he murmured his praise.

“Elain,” he whispered, almost reverently. “You feel so damn good.”

She knew then that she would never tire of hearing him moan her name or seeing him this undone. His hands tightened on her hips, hard enough to leave bruises, and Elain moaned as stilled her hips and thrusted up into her.

Every snap of his hips sent a ripple of pleasure through her. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back, focusing on the feel of him inside her and the delicious sounds he was making.

“Look at you,” he murmured. “You’re perfect.”

He increased his pace, slamming up into her roughly, the wet slap of their skin mixing with their moans. Pleasure was coiling up her spine again, hot and fast. It was so overwhelming that she slumped forward and fisted her hands in the sheets to brace herself.

“Lucien,” she gasped. “Lucien, don’t stop.”

“Are you about to come again for me, Elain?”

Elain moaned weakly in response as stars danced at the edge of her vision. Lucien snaked a hand between them to tease her clit, and she cried out as her orgasm ripped through her.

“That’s it,” Lucien groaned. “That’s my girl.”

With one final hard thrust he was spilling himself inside her, her name falling from his lips in a desperate moan. She stayed slumped on top of him, listening to the erratic beat of his heart slowing in time with her own.

Lucien lifted her off him with excruciating gentleness and tucked her into his chest, nuzzling her hair.

“Maybe we should get attacked by giants more often,” he whispered.

Elain laughed, burrowing her face further into his neck.

“Yes,” she agreed. “Maybe we should.”

“Lucien! Lucien, come look!”

Lucien woke with a start and jumped out of bed, his mind already reeling with possible dangers. He took the stairs two at a time up to the top deck and stumbled to a halt. Elain was bundled up under what looked like three cloaks, spinning in a circle and laughing with joy.

“It’s snowing!” she exclaimed.

It seemed like they had crossed into the northern territories while he dozed, and suddenly the world around them was an uninterrupted expanse of white. Lucien breathed a sigh of relief, laughing at Elain’s giddy excitement.

“And you managed not to crash the ship while I was asleep. Miracles do exist!”

Elain scowled with her hands on her hips, looking about as menacing as a kitten. “You watch yourself, Your Highness!”

Lucien chuckled even as his blood heated a few degrees. “Come back to bed,” he pleaded, walking towards her to wrap his arms around her. “I’ll keep you warm.”

With a burst of his power a bubble of warmth wrapped around them, and Elain leaned into him. Lucien marveled at the feel of her in his arms, still unable to wrap his mind around the fact that this was real, that she was his, after all this time. She stood up on her tiptoes and Lucien closed his eyes, leaning down to meet her kiss- and instead was met with a facefull of snow.

“That’s what you get for sass,” Elain said simply as he yelped and sputtered. “Now land this ship so we can go explore.”

“I believe it’s time for your landing lesson, no?” he teased.

Elain’s satisfied smile slipped, and Lucien laughed.

“Don’t worry, even if you crash the snow should absorb the shock.”

After several (bumpy) attempts they landed near a village tucked beside a range of snow-capped mountains. Elain amused herself by cutting holes into a wooly hat before plopping it onto his head, despite his protests that he looked ridiculous.

“You know I have flame power, right?” he grumbled. His thick woolen shirt and cloak were itchy against his back and he would much rather have used other methods of staying warm that didn’t involve clothing. “I don’t need a hat.”

“Yes yes, you’re a big scary monster,” she quipped, looking thoroughly unconcerned by his protests. “Now let’s go!”

Lucien had flown this far north before but had never walked through any of the towns on foot, and as they walked through the snowy village of Velaris he had to admit that Elain had been right to dream of this place.

They walked through streets filled with brightly lit shops- bookstores, bakeries, jewelry stores, all of which seemed to pique Elain’s curiosity more than the last. The streets were lit with strings of fairy lights and lamp posts draped with greenery, and the overall effect was merry but calm. Children ran through the streets in a residential part of town, zigzagging around them and giggling at Lucien’s horns poking out of his hat.

Elain’s fingers tightened around his as she smiled at their antics, and Lucien couldn’t help the image that floated through his mind- little heads with red hair and big brown eyes, unburdened by unwanted crowns and titles.

Someday, maybe. After he had shown her the world, they could pick their favorite spot and grow roots.

The sun was starting to go down when they wandered onto a square in the center of town. It was dominated by a large frozen pond, bordered by about two dozen snowmen wearing even more accessories than Lucien was. The pond was crowded with people ice skating, and when Elain gasped at the sight of them he immediately resigned himself to the fact that he was about to make a fool of himself.

“I’m not getting out of this, am I?” he teased.

Elain smiled broadly. “Good, you’re learning!” With that she yanked his arm towards a shop renting equipment.

Lucien pulled her back towards him and cradled her face in his hands, letting his flame heat her cold cheeks.

Elain giggled, her beautiful eyes twinkling at him playfully. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he whispered, pressing their noses together. “Just keeping you warm.”

Elain giggled again, standing up on her tiptoes to press a sweet kiss to his lips. “You’re very silly for such a scary monster.”

“Ahh, so I am scary. And this whole time you’ve been hurting my ego by pretending I wasn’t!”

“Your ego doesn’t need stroking,” she shot back with a puff of laughter.

“What about other things?” His dropped his voice an octave and watched as heat bloomed on her cheeks.

“Are you trying to distract me from ice skating?” she scolded.

“That depends. Is it working?”

She was opening her mouth to reply when a very familiar voice cut her off.

“Elain?”

Once upon a time that voice would have meant Elain’s salvation, but today it sent a cold drip of dread down her back. She whirled, scanning the busy town square for that familiar face, hoping maybe she had imagined it.

But there he was, standing across the square from them, staring between her and Lucien in equal parts relief and fear. Graysen, her oldest friend and fierce protector. His blue overalls were filthy, as if he’d fought his way here all the way from Isle Delfino. Which, knowing him, he likely had.

A low snarl came out of Lucien at the sight of him, more animal than man, and Elain instinctively reached for his hand.

“The others are here too,” he murmured. “We’re surrounded.”

A quick scan of the town square revealed that he was right- Elain immediately spotted Graysen’s brother walking out from his hiding spot behind a large snowman, his own overalls just as torn and filthy as his brother’s. She could also see her cousins, Nesta and Feyre, dressed in battle attire and wielding weapons. Elain couldn’t resent any of them for having found her, when for all they knew she was in worse danger than before. Lucien had never taken her away from Castle Koopa before- surely her friends would have been going mad with worry.

But another part of her, the part that had drunk coconuts with Lucien and walked through a sandstorm and seen giants- that part of her did resent them, if only a little bit. For leaving her alone in that damn castle to sit on the throne day after day, while they went off and had adventures all over the world. For never asking (or even considering) that she might like to join, too.

“Elain?” Graysen called again, stepping closer to them. “Are you alright? Who is that?” His eyes flicked to Lucien’s horns poking out of his wool hat, and his eyes narrowed.

This was going to get ugly very quickly. They had done this dance so many times before that Elain had almost lost count. Lucien would take her, Grayen would come and fight him with help from his brother and her cousins, and eventually he would surrender. But what they all knew but had never acknowledged was that it had never been a fair fight, because Lucien had always surrendered, not lost.

There would be no surrendering today.

“I’m ok, Graysen. I’m unharmed,” Elain replied, locking eyes with her friend and trying to sound as reassuring as she could. The wobble in her voice betrayed her fear, and she could tell from the look in Graysen’s eyes that he caught it, and would undoubtedly misunderstand it.

“Let her go,” Nesta demanded, prowling towards them on silent feet, her trusted blade held at the ready.

Lucien’s arm tightened around her protectively, and Elain stepped back until her back was pressed to his chest.

“Nesta. Please listen to me. I’m not in danger.”

“Who are you?” Graysen demanded, ignoring her. He was still looking at Lucien suspiciously, and Elain could practically see the wheels turning in his head. “Where is King Koopa?”

Her friends were closing around them in a circle, trapping them in the middle. People had started noticing the altercation, some standing still to watch them curiously, others flat out running away in distress.

“You’re looking at him,” Lucien declared.

Elain gasped as she looked up at him in horror. “Lucien!” He’d kept that secret so quiet for so long, protecting his identity to the point of forsaking who he really was. If she hadn’t known before that there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her, then she certainly knew it now.

“It’s fine,” he reassured her, swallowing thickly. “It’s time the world knew. I’m tired of pretending.”

“Get away from her,” Feyre growled.

“What is the meaning of this?” Graysen asked in disbelief. “Elain, get away from him.”

“No!” Elain exclaimed. “Stop. Let me explain, there’s no need for…” It happened so fast that she didn’t even see it coming. One moment she was standing in the protective circle of Lucien’s arms, and the next she was being yanked away from him by a set of powerful arms.

“Let me go!” Elain thrashed to free herself but she was powerless against the strong arms holding her tight.

“It’s ok, Elain,” Azriel murmured reassuringly. “We’ve got you, you’re safe.”

“No, you don’t understand…”

Lucien was standing still as Graysen, Feyre and Nesta advanced around him in a circle, all of them brandishing their weapons and smiling in victory.

“How do we know you’re telling the truth?” Graysen taunted.

Lucien laughed, a low, dangerous laugh that sounded thoroughly inhuman. Her friends froze and glanced at each other uncertainly. There was a flash of light, and then Lucien had shifted into the reptilian form of King Koopa, his teeth bared in a snarl, spiked tail sending up sprays of snow as it swiped angrily against the ground.

“Nobody has to get hurt today,” he warned, as Graysen and her cousins tightened rank and Azriel held her tighter still.

“Graysen, listen to me!” Elain pleaded. “He’s not what you think he is, I’m not his prisoner!” But nobody was listening to her.

“That’s right,” Nesta said. “Let her go and nobody will get harmed.”

“It’s you who has to let her go,” Lucien growled. “You will not win this fight.”

Graysen and her cousins moved as one, lunging for Lucien in synch. Elain screamed, struggling against Azriel’s hold, but he only held her tighter.

“STOP IT!” she yelled, her heart racing with panic.

But it was over before it even began. Lucien swiped at Graysen almost lazily, sending him tumbling into a nearby snowbank. In the same breath he sent up a wall of flames at Nesta and Feyre, who shrieked and retreated at a run.

“STOP IT!” Elain yelled again. “AND LET ME GO!”

Azriel’s arms loosened around her as he looked at her in surprise- at her tone or her words, she didn't know or care. As soon as she was free of his hold she ran towards Lucien and stood in front of him defiantly.

“Listen to me!” she exclaimed, her eyes flicking back and forth between her friends. “You NEVER LISTEN!”

All four of them froze, Graysen covered in snow, Nesta and Feyre smelling slightly of singed hair.

“I’m not going back to Mushroom Castle with you,” Elain continued.

She unclasped one of the cloaks wrapped around her shoulders and handed it to Lucien, who chuckled, smoke coming out of his nostrils. With another flash of light King Koopa had gone, and Lucien wrapped himself in the cloak. Elain realized with some hilarity that the wooly hat had somehow survived as he shifted.

“What do you mean, you’re not going back to Mushroom Castle?” Nesta asked in disbelief. “We’re not letting him take you…”

“He’s not taking me,” Elain said simply. “I’m going with him.”

“But…but Elain, you can’t…” “You can’t go with that monster…”

“HE’S NOT A MONSTER!” she yelled, her fists clenched at her sides.

“It’s ok, Elain,” Lucien said softly. “They can think what they want.” “No!” she exclaimed, turning to look at him. He was smiling sadly, his gaze resigned and haunted, and it only fueled her anger. “They don’t know the real you.” “But you do,” he replied. “And that’s all that matters to me.”

They didn’t know the real her, either. But he did.

“Are you really not coming back?” a soft voice asked behind her.

Elain turned, suddenly exhausted. She turned to face her friends, their eyes so uncomprehending that she almost felt bad for them.

“I never wanted that throne,” she started, taking a deep bracing breath of the frigid air. “I don’t want to sit in that castle any longer. Someone else can have it.”

“Ok,” Nesta said, clearly trying to sound reasonable. “We can talk about that. If you want to travel with us sometimes, that’s fine…”

Elain shook her head as Lucien laughed drily. “No, Nesta. I’m leaving, and I don’t want any of you to come after us. Someone else can take the throne. You should be Princess, Feyre. You’ve always been clever at dealing with people.”

Feyre’s mouth dropped open in surprise, as if she didn’t quite agree with that.

“But, Elain, surely you don’t mean to go with him…” Azriel questioned, looking at Lucien with disdain.

“His name is Lucien,” Elain declared. “And I love him.”

Lucien’s arm snaked around her again as silence fell over the square. It was deserted by now, though Elain could see people peering through shop windows to watch the scene unfold.

“Where will you go?” Graysen asked, finally lowering his sword.

Azriel, Nesta, and Feyre followed suit, though somewhat reluctantly. Elain glanced up at Lucien, and this time his eyes were full of humor. “Everywhere,” he said simply.

“Will we ever see you again?” Feyre asked in a small voice.

Something squeezed at Elain’s heart like a vice, and she walked to Feyre and wrapped her a tight hug. “Of course you will,” she said, her throat tight with unshed tears. “You’re not rid of me that easily.”

She hugged each of her friends in turn, committing the feel and scent of each of them to her memory. Elain knew she wouldn’t be seeing them anytime soon. The dust would need to settle first, prejudices would need to be pushed aside. A part of her felt bad that the mess they needed to clean up was of her own making, but mostly she just felt free.

She walked back towards the man she loved and watched her friends walk away, each of them looking over their shoulder at her as if to make sure she wasn’t changing her mind.

When they had left she turned to look into those fiery russet eyes. Lucien’s expression was so full of open adoration that her breath caught in her throat. He opened his arms and Elain fell into him, letting his warmth seep into her very soul.

“So,” he murmured into her ear. “Where to first?”

Elain laughed wickedly. “First we get you some clothes.” Lucien’s hands wandered down her back and she swatted him away. “And then ice skating, of course!”

Lucien sighed in resignation. “I’m really not getting out of that, am I?”

Elain shook her head firmly. “Absolutely not.”

“Well in that case, your wish is my command.”

Elain beamed and scanned the town square for a clothing shop, but Lucien pulled her back towards him once more.

“You know,” he murmured, a little grin on his lips. “One of these days I will make you my bride.”

Elain’s stomach flipped at his words. It wasn’t a threat- it had never been. It was simply a promise.

“And if I refuse?” she shot back, widening her eyes as she looked up at him through her eyelashes.

The flame in his eyes intensified to an inferno she could feel inside her soul. His grin widened, so warm and bright it could have melted the snow around them.

“Oh, you won’t Princess. Not this time.”

#acotar secret santa 2022 #elucien #elucien fanfic #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #Princess peach!Elain #Lucien Vanbowser

92 notes · View notes

abraxos-and-ataraxia · 1 year

Text

He Saw Sunlight

Pairing: Lucien x Elain

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: none

Summary: When Lucien visits Velaris for the winter solstice, things don't go the way they usually do...

My @acotargiftexchange present for @elliemarchetti 🎁 I hope you enjoy!

* * * * *

Somehow, forced cheer had become Lucien’s winter solstice tradition. As the years passed, he found it more difficult to send word that he wouldn’t be visiting Velaris after all, so he found himself in Feyre’s sprawling manor each and every year. He always brought two gifts—another tradition—one for Feyre and one for Elain. In later years, he befriended the eldest Archeron well enough to know her tastes. Filthy romance novels from his travels were always sure to please her. The rest of the inner circle were pleased enough with his lack of presents, if only to excuse their own.

After so many solstices, Lucien had grown used to Elain’s polite expressions. She opened his gifts with grace, a quiet thank you, and then set them aside. He’d never seen her use any of them since unwrapping the paper. A part of him wondered if he should stop trying so hard. Yet Lucien could not stop knocking on their snow-dusted door.

He’d arrived with time to spare, so he was sitting in a plush armchair by the fireplace when he caught a glimpse of movement from the hall. Lucien turned just in time to see Elain darting out the door, a bright red cloak swirling behind her. He frowned, glancing at the clock above the mantel—there was only an hour before dinner. Where was she going so soon before the festivities? Then his frown deepened—was she meeting someone else for the solstice? Surely Feyre would have told him…but then again, she’d kept plenty of secrets in the past.

Something tugged at him, like he was at the end of a long string. He didn’t stop to consider anything further. Soon, Lucien found himself following the footprints in the snow, heedless of the cold nipping at his cheeks.

Elain’s red cloak glowed like a beacon in the rapidly darkening streets of Velaris. Her pace was brisk, but Lucien’s long legs allowed him to keep her in view. He watched her carefully, noting her cheerful grin, the way she waved at local shopkeepers as they closed for the night. Elain seemed to know all of them, from the sound of their casual greetings.

When she ducked under a snowy awning, Lucien held his breath, unsure what sight awaited him next. But to his surprise, Elain merely pulled out her wallet. She exchanged coin for a pastry before ambling down the street once more. Curious, Lucien darted over to the shop’s window, keeping one eye on that bright spot of crimson. “Excuse me,” he began.

But the shopkeeper ignored him, pressing a pastry into his open hands. “Happy solstice,” the older male said with a smile. Before Lucien could offer up any money, the male closed the window once more.

Baffled, and more than a bit suspicious, Lucien inspected his newest gift. Some sort of lemon cake, draped in a thin layer of icing, and small enough that he finished the pastry in two bites. Satisfaction curled in his stomach, followed by another small tug. He listened to it, turning down the street to follow those footprints. He hardly needed the trail—he could find her anywhere. His mate, that gentle pull reminded him.

He followed Elain across the city as night fell, blanketing Velaris in starlight that reflected off the recent snowfall. For the first time since Feyre revealed the well-kept secret, Lucien let himself be dazzled. It was a beautiful city, filled with colorful people and brilliant sights. Eventually, he stopped minding the time and started appreciating the art and food and music that ran through the city like its lifeblood.

Eventually, he forgot that he was following Elain to find out where she was going, and he let himself get lost in the places she led him to.

“Do you like it?” The question, softly spoken, almost failed to catch his attention. But the bond thrummed in his chest like a harp string, carefully plucked.

“I am afraid you’ll have to be more specific,” Lucien said, turning around slowly.

Elain dipped her head, a tentative smile flickering over her lips. She took a few steps closer, meeting him in the middle of the cobblestone street. Lucien couldn’t tear his eyes from her. Her rosy cheeks, the way she twisted her fingers together, the hood draped precariously over her spill of bronze curls. It took all of his strength to stand still, to keep from reaching out to her.

“The city,” Elain said, her eyes glittering up at him. “Do you like it?”

Thinking of all the lovely places he’d followed her to, his nod was automatic. “Velaris is a beautiful city.”

“Yes,” Elain waved his answer away, mouth pursed with the stirrings of irritation. “But do you like it?”

Lucien blinked. “I liked the bakery,” he began again. “Lemon cakes are some of my favorites.”

“They’re my favorite cakes in the whole city.”

Encouraged, Lucien continued. “I liked the lights strung around the market square and the bridge over the waterfall.”

“I’m glad of it,” Elain said, smile widening.

“The hot chocolate was some of the best I’ve ever had,” Lucien went on.

“Oh?” Elain frowned, brows furrowing. “So you’ve had better?”

With a careful nod, he explained his centuries of travel across Prythian. “The Winter Court has some of the best coffee shops, and one of them serves my favorite hot chocolate.”

“I’d like to go one day. To try it.”

Lucien blinked at her again. “I didn’t think—”

“That I would want to?” Elain shook her head, her cheeks pinkening further. “I’m sorry, I’m going about this all wrong. I just wanted to talk to you and I couldn’t think of any other way to start.”

Mind utterly blank, Lucien simply stared at her. She wanted to talk to him? He would gladly speak of the weather, of the color of the sky, of anything she wanted. “There’s nothing to forgive,” he said. “I’m happy to start however you’d like, but perhaps you can explain what your plan was tonight. Where are you going on solstice? Shouldn’t we get back to the house?”

“Well…this was the plan.” Elain fussed with the edge of her cloak, biting her lip firmly enough that Lucien worried she might break the skin. “I showed you my favorite places. I hope that one day, you might show me some of yours.”

Lucien watched her carefully. His mate, whom he had assumed wanted nothing to do with him, now reaching across the chasm between them. How could he do anything but meet her in the middle? He smiled, waiting for Elain to look at him again. “You hope, or you know?”

When she smiled back, the bond between them started to glow. “I may have Seen a few things, but I won’t spoil them for you. For us,” Elain corrected. “The future is always changing.”

“I’m glad of this change,” he said. Glad, too, that he could be honest with her. That she wasn’t running away. That he knew the warmth of Elain’s smile directed at him. That he wasn’t dreaming again.

Before he could suggest they return to the manor, Elain hooked his elbow with hers, tugging him down the street once more. Struck dumb by the unexpected contact, Lucien didn’t try to argue.

They walked until their noses turned red from the cold, and Lucien had to summon small flames to warm their fingers. They talked until Lucien’s voice was hoarse, and Elain led them to a cozy pub open late for revelers. They drank until Elain demanded a dance, then three, and they stumbled out into the snow, still laughing. And when the stars began to wink out, they meandered through the snowy city, making their way home together.

“Tell me something, Lucien.”

“Anything,” he said, meeting her gaze, holding it. For a moment, the two of them stood still, suspended in that moment of complete and utter sincerity.

“Tell me something that makes you happy.”

Following the golden heat of the bond in his chest, Lucien leaned forward. He waited there, Elain’s mouth just out of reach, until she broached the distance herself. They tumbled into the kiss, head over heels, lips parting only to return seconds later. He couldn’t stay away. Only one taste, and he knew there could never be another. Lucien was lost to her.

“You,” he breathed against her, their lips brushing. And behind his closed lids, he saw sunlight. “You, Elain.”

#acotar secret santa 2022 #elucien fic #elucien fluff #elucien fanfiction #elucien

106 notes · View notes

labellefleur-sauvage · 1 year

Text

And All That Jazz

for @abraxos-and-ataraxia for the 2022 @acotargiftexchange! Happy Holidays and I hope you enjoy!

Summary: The city's lights gleamed in Nesta Archerons eyes, and all she saw was opportunity.

It’s the Roaring 20s in the bustling city of Prythia, and Nesta wants to live her life according to her own desires - whatever the consequences. When she collides with the city’s most dangerous mob boss, she discovers that jazz and whiskey can lead to a criminally passionate night.

Rating: E

Word Count: 9.6K

Read On AO3

“Nesta, hurry up! I want to get there early enough to get good seats!”

Emerie’s voice carried through Nesta’s thin bedroom door, punctuated by two loud bangs of her fist. Nesta cursed to herself as the sound of her friend’s footsteps faded down their boarding house's long, winding staircase. She was still getting ready - her makeup box was open and its contents strewn everywhere on her bed, along with several of her crumpled dresses that she had been trying on and agonizing over before deciding on her current outfit.

Looking at herself in the small mirror propped on her desk top, Nesta smiled. She was quite pleased with how she had managed to stretch the few extra dollars she tucked away to complete her look for the evening: a second-hand, drop waist, sleeveless forest green knee length dress with a scandalous V-neck that showed off her collarbones and the swells of her breasts. Nearly the entirety of her lean, strong back was exposed. She had thrown on a thin double looped silver necklace that fell to the top of her chest and complimented her blue-gray eyes nicely. It was something she would have never dared to wear before.

What she was most excited to show off, however, was her new haircut. If her grandmother were still alive, she would probably have a heart attack at what Nesta had done to her hair. Gone was her gorgeous golden-brown hair she had been forbidden to cut by her mother and grandmother; in its place was a sleek bob that fell to mid-cheek. It highlighted her sharp cheekbones and the graceful line of her strong jaw.

She gazed at herself in the mirror. If she were to go home and visit her sisters, would they recognize her? Not just her new hair, but her growing confidence, her new excitement for life? If he were still alive, she doubted her father would notice her. By the end of his life, alcohol had taken over his existence. It may even be for the best that he had already passed - Prohibition would have driven him insane, or some illegal liquor would have poisoned him to an early grave.

She gave herself a little shake - she was going out with her friends to have fun, and she wouldn’t let her miserable upbringing ruin that. She had just finished applying a touch of blush to her cheeks and putting on a pair of opal earrings when Emerie’s voice cut through the air. “We’re leaving in two minutes, with or without you!”

Quickly applying her favorite blood red lipstick to her plump lips, throwing on a pair of low heels and grabbing her beaded clutch, Nesta thundered down the steps. Waiting at the bottom in the foyer of their boarding house were Gwyn and Emerie. Upon seeing Nesta, Gwyn whistled. “I can see why it took you so long to get ready.”

She was one to talk, Nesta thought. Gwyn wore a loose, ankle length gown with beaded floral designs that matched her teal eyes perfectly and made her auburn hair pop. Her arms were bare, and the gown’s drop waist was accented by a large bow on the side of her body. Her long, shining hair was curled past her shoulders and kept out of her face by a feathered headband.

By Gwyn’s side, Emerie looked equally as wonderful. She wore a long, black, beaded gown with matching black heels. The beads across her gown were sewn in various geometric patterns, highlighting her trim build. She had a faux fur shawl around her shoulders and her black hair was done in perfect finger waves.

“Come on,” Emerie said, taking her friends by the hand and leading them outside. “I told the singer tonight we’d be there and I want to get front row seats.”

Gwyn looped her arms through her two friends’ arms. “You’re very interested in this performer,” she said, a corner of her mouth lifting. “Friend of yours?”

“Acquaintance,” Emerie replied instantly, her dark cheeks reddening.

“Good,” Gwyn cheerfully said. “I know Nesta and I are your only friends.”

Nesta couldn’t help but laugh. She had moved to the large, bustling city of Prythia, friendless and nearly penniless, her only prospect a typist job she had found in the help wanted section of her local paper. Gwyn and Emerie were new in town as well and had started the same day as her and by lucky happenstance, found their employer had put them all together in the same boarding house just a ten minute walk from work.

Their boarding house was also within convenient walking distance to several social gathering places. Until tonight, the three of them had safely stuck to the theaters and social parlors people their age visited, but being in the city for just over a year had made them bored and bold. Someone had told Emerie about a small speakeasy tucked in the basement of a corner store and the three of them had decided to expand their social outings.

If grandmother could see me now , Nesta thought viciously. Her grandmother had been a domineering hag to Nesta, controlling nearly every aspect of her life until she died when Nesta was fourteen. By the time her father had passed away a year ago, only a few years after her mother, Nesta had decided that she was done living by anyone else’s standards and ideas. She was going to make her own decisions and live her life how she saw fit, regardless of the consequences.

Finally, they turned onto the main street of Prythia’s entertainment district, and Nesta was awed, like she was every time she stepped out into the tempting darkness of the city. Here were people - women - wearing what they wanted, doing what they wanted, without overbearing parents or a man nearby to police their every action and word. A lone woman in a pair of tall heels and a luxurious fur coat passed by the three of them, confidently making her way down the street towards a brightly lit marquee.

She wanted that. She wanted that woman's confidence and freedom, her poise and elegance. The city's lights gleamed in Nesta Archeron’s eyes, and all she saw was opportunity.

XXX

Eris Vanserra didn’t trust anyone but himself with a straight razor. In his line of business, literally baring his throat was more likely than not to get him killed, so his father had taught him how to shave and trim himself early. He enjoyed the simple routine of shaving: showering, lathering his neck and face, and slowly, bit by bit, moving that deadly straight edge against the most sensitive and crucial bit of skin on his body. He always took his time, making sure to get every stray hair on his chin and neck. Appearances mattered, and he couldn’t present himself as the most distinguished and powerful crime boss in Prythia with a scruffy neck.

Tonight had been a bloody one, and he was still simmering with annoyance that he wasn’t able to get ready for the evening in the comfort of his sprawling wooded estate outside the city but instead had to shower, dress, and shave in the small apartment above his front just a block off the city’s entertainment district. The business with his newest - and now dead - business associate had taken much longer than he thought it would. His still-bloodied gloves laid at the side of the washbasin he was using to shave. His knuckles were rapidly bruising and already ached.

Eris had just finished wiping any remaining soap off his face when two loud knocks pounded on the door.

“It’s been thirty minutes, Mr. Vanserra.”

“Thank you, Vince,” Eris replied smoothly.

Vince was one of Eris’s most trusted bodyguards. He had been part of the Vanserra crime family since his father ran their bootlegging operation, but he was entirely loyal to Eris, thanks in no small part to Eris paying off a large amount of his debt and bringing his family from their shithole hovel in the continent to Prythia. That loyalty paid off in spades when Vince helped Eris murder his father, Beron, making Eris the new head of the Vanserra syndicate and its territory, lovingly called the Autumn Court.

The Autumn Court covered nearly the entire southern half of Prythia, including the coveted financial and entertainment districts. He had several speakeasies spread throughout his territory, along with gambling and drug dens. He was blackmailing most of the city’s politicians, and most recently discovered the mayor had a secret mistress and child tucked away in the town of Velaris on the coast. He hadn’t yet decided what he wanted from the mayor in order for that to remain hushed up. His men freely burgled stores and warehouses in areas held by other syndicates. At least half of the city’s police force was financed by Vanserra money, including the Chief of Police.

All the while, Eris Vanserra governed his Court from his throne built of illicit crimes and the bodies of those who tried to get in his way.

“How is the Forest House looking, Vince?” Eris called through the door.

He wanted to spend the night checking in on his newest speakeasy in the city, The Forest House, in the building’s basement. The Forest House occupied the lowest level, then his corner store - a front for The Forest House, used to legally move his illegal money - on the main level, with his personal apartment and storage on the upper floors. Tonight was the first night their new bootlegged whisky - aged on Eris’s own estate - was available to the public, and all he wanted to do after this long and shitty day was grab a glass, sit in a booth in the Forest House, and find a woman to spend the evening with.

To do that, however, he needed to get dressed. Eris decided on a cobalt blue form-fitting suit jacket and matching pants that clung to his muscled body with a deep green tie that paired well with his flaming hair and amber eyes. He combed his short hair back and applied just enough product to keep it in place.

“Busy,” Vince’s slightly muffled voice answered through the door. “Lots of women.”

Eris grinned, a predator ready to begin the hunt. “Perfect.”

XXX

The Forest House was already hopping by the time Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie walked in. After speaking the password - “Orange Hounds” - to the burly men standing in the shadows of the alley entrance to the building, they were ushered in and led directly downstairs to a large open barroom.

Deep brown wood panels covered the walls, creating a sumptuous and rich feeling in the space. A long, fully-stocked bar was along the left side of the room, with individual booths around the walls and smaller tables placed in the center of the room. The large, well-lit stage was positioned in the right corner of the room, with a dance floor directly in front of the stage.

Despite apparently being new, the space was crowded: dozens of people were mixing and talking, sitting at tables and waiting for drinks at the bar. Nesta felt a flush of excitement travel through her body - confidence and ease oozed from the strangers around her, and she was part of this secret, select group of people who were, in their own ways, taking charge of their wants and desires. A woman in an even shorter dress than Nesta’s was leaning into a man at the bar, her lips dangerously close to the man’s throat, as she talked to him. Nesta watched as the woman plant her lips on the man’s neck and move up and up and up -

Beside her, Gwyn and Emerie appeared equally as taken in with their surroundings. Gwyn had a blush on her cheeks that ran down her chest, and Emerie was staring, wide eyed, at a blonde woman in a tight fitting red dress that had appeared on the stage and was beginning to set up some equipment.

“Let’s get a table!” Emerie squeaked, pulling her friends towards a round table near the stage. The woman setting up saw Emerie, grinned, and winked.

“The mystery singer confirmed,” Gwyn murmured to Nesta. “How do you think they met?”

“Maybe the department store Emerie works at on the weekends.” Emerie had swiftly abandoned Gwyn and Nesta and was talking in hushed, excited tones to the woman on the stage. With a smile and lingering touch to Emerie’s wrist, the woman disappeared behind the stage, and Emerie came back to the table.

“That’s Mor.” Emerie was breathless and grinning.

“I see why you were so excited to get here for good seats,” Gwyn said.

“Let’s get our drinks sorted before she starts.” Emerie was looking towards the bar, craning her neck at the line.

“You two stay here, I’ll get drinks,” Nesta volunteered. “My treat. What do you want?”

After getting their drink orders - a gin rickey for Emerie, and a bee’s knees for Gwyn - Nesta moved through the crowd of sharp-dressed men and women to the bar. She found an open spot and leaned on the bar, trying to get the bartender’s attention.

The bartender turned towards Nesta, and his eyes snagged on her cleavage before snapping to her face, where a sultry grin awaited him. A corner of his mouth twitched up as he walked over.

“What can I get you, ma'am?”

“A gin rickey, a bee's knees and… what do you recommend?” Nesta leaned even further over the bar and practically purred the question in the bartender’s ear. He shivered slightly.

“We’re just uncasking our own special aged whiskey tonight. Would you like a sample?”

Nodding, Nesta watched as he poured a sliver of a shimmering, amber liquid in a small glass and handed it over. She took a sip. Instant warmth, like a low simmering fire, spread through her chest and migrated to her limbs. Hints of spices - cinnamon, nutmeg, vanilla - danced on her tongue, followed by a smokiness that reminded her of childhood campfires her father would make for her and her sisters. The warmth stayed in her chest as she signed in pleasure at the whiskey.

“I hope a glass neat isn’t too expensive, because I don’t think I could drink anything else.”

“For you, my dear, it’s on the house,” a deep voice said in her ear.

Whipping her head to the side, Nesta came face to face with perhaps the most handsome man she had ever seen. Amber eyes, just like the whiskey she had drank, bored into her own eyes just a few inches away. He had a smooth, slim face without a touch of facial hair - just how Nesta preferred her men. His short red hair was combed back from his face, showing off his sharp cheekbones and full lips that smirked at her. The blush she had applied to her cheeks earlier that evening couldn’t compare to the real warmth gracing her face as the two openly stared at each other.

“I was hoping for a favorable reaction to our new whiskey tonight,” the man continued, straightening to his full height from where he was leaning on the bar. “Based on your reaction, it must be rather good.”

Nesta took a slight stuttering breath. “It’s exceptional,” she said, looking up at the man through hooded eyes. The heat in this man’s eyes suddenly made her bold and daring, more so than she had expected of herself. “Though I think I need one more taste, to see if it lives up to my high standards.”

“Just one taste?” The man leaned down to brush his lips against the shell of her ear, one of his large hands skimming her waist. The breath was knocked out of Nesta’s body, and she hoped the man couldn’t hear the loud beating of her heart over the din of the room. “Perhaps you could join me later for a private tasting, just the two of us.”

Nesta trembled with excitement. Just like that, an opportunity to do what she wanted, to rebel, with no one around to tell her no or judge her, fell into her lap. And how fortunate at what a handsome opportunity he was.

“Just a whiskey tasting though, right?”

“And whatever else we’d like to sample.” Those mesmerizing eyes dipped down to her blood red lips before returning to her eyes.

Although she wasn’t the most experienced young lady, Nesta had flirted and teased enough men to recognize the emotions swirling in the man’s eyes: hunger and desire. She knew her own eyes mirrored his, couldn’t hide the yearning and sheer want she was feeling for this unknown yet hypnotic man.

She didn’t know who he was and had certainly never seen him before tonight. Based on his familiarity with the staff, Nesta figured perhaps he too worked here, or was an investor of some kind in the operation. The idea of not knowing anything about the man in front of her and openly flirting with him would have shocked a younger version of herself that had spent her entire life in the safe, sleepy town of Velaris on the coast. If her grandmother could see her at this moment, she would have slapped her and dragged her out of the building, called her all manner of horrible names, and vowed to never let her out of her sight for as long as she lived.

Her grandmother and the old version of Nesta were dead, though, no longer around to command Nesta how to live and caution her from straying from the proper path.

The man in front of her only made her feel rash and excited, like she wanted to push herself to be as different from her past self that her grandmother had tried to mold and break.

“Charles,” the man said, addressing the bartender without taking his eyes off Nesta’s face, “drinks are on the house this evening for…?”

“Nesta. Nesta Archeron.”

Taking her hand and kissing her knuckles, the man murmured, “Well met, Nesta Archeron. I believe I’ll be seeing you by the end of the night.”

Taking his own glass of whiskey, the man nodded before turning away and disappearing into the crowd. Heart hammering in her chest, she grinned. She felt reckless with power and warm from her whiskey, and she knew, based on the ache between her legs, she’d be seeing more of the flame-haired man later in the evening.

XXX

As soon as Eris entered the Forest House, he knew exactly how this night was going to end: between the trembling thighs of the gorgeous woman sampling a bit of his whisky with a nearly orgasmic look on her face.

Seeing her rapture, her quiet, sensual enjoyment of just a touch of whiskey, brought Eris the closest he’d ever been to having a religious experience. There was no explanation other than God himself as to how this exquisite angel in the most daring green dress had come to grace the Forest House this particular evening.

Quietly sidling up to her, he’d just heard the woman ask the price of the whiskey and state she couldn’t drink anything else when he quietly leaned down and whispered, “For you, my dear, it’s on the house.”

He heard her breath hitch and watched as a slight blush graced the apples of her cheeks. Eris wanted to sweep his gaze down, see how far that blush traveled, but her eyes - those eyes - pinned him like a bug to a collector’s board.

Eris was no stranger to female attention. Even here, as he had walked in and made a beeline for the bar, he had felt dozens of eyes on him: from men sizing him up or talking in hushed voices of who he was, or women calculating how they could grab his attention. No other woman could compare to her, however. He would either be spending the night with the mystery woman at the bar or with his own hand and a glass of whiskey.

She bantered and flirted with him so easily, it was like she was made for him. Based on her choice of attire, maybe she was. The dark green of her dress matched his tie exactly, and he noted with interest how good in general she looked in green - his family’s main color.

The dress was loose on her, as was the style of all women’s dresses at the moment as it was much better for dancing. The deep neckline of her dress showed off her impressive cleavage, and he imagined his lips trailing down her collarbones to her peaked nipples, sucking them into his mouth -

She was talking. “Just one taste?” he answered back. Eris couldn’t help himself - he leaned down towards her ear and suggested they should spend time alone together by the end of the night, touching the soft indent of her waist. This was his most blatant gamble. She could very well decide he was being too forward and walk away, especially if she only came here to drink and dance. He would respect her wishes if she wanted that; he’d walk away right now, his cock already half-hard in his trousers, with nothing more than the snippets of a flirty conversation to stroke himself to later tonight.

But he knew deep down that part of what attracted him to her was her resolution. Her eyes met his, and they sparked with challenge, determination, and lust. “Just a whiskey tasting though, right?” she said, batting her eyelashes as she trembled with excitement and want, and Eris knew he would be worshiping her body all night long.

He paid for all her drinks for the evening - it was the least he could do, and he was genuinely pleased that she enjoyed his whiskey. More importantly, he learned her name - Nesta Archeron. He savored the taste of her name like he would savor this whiskey, or the taste of the wetness he’d find between her legs later this evening.

With a parting kiss to her hand and a nod, he turned around and walked to his reserved booth in the corner of the room, where he could observe all the goings-on of the Forest House in relative seclusion and quiet.

“Everything alright, Mr. Vanserra?” Like smoke, Vince materialized out of nowhere.

Eris’s sharp eyes watched as Nesta rejoined her two friends at their table near the stage. They each took a sip of their drinks. Nesta’s eyes fluttered close as she sipped her whiskey, and Eris grinned.

“Yes, Vince. Everything is fine.”

XXX

“Who was that?”

Nesta was unsurprised that she had come back to an ambush. She had been gone long enough that no doubt Gwyn and Emerie had looked for her and seen more than they were anticipating.

“The man who’s paying for our drinks this evening,” Nesta replied.

“What’s his name?” Emerie asked. Gwyn was craning her neck left and right, even resorting to standing up and using her considerable height to try to look for the red haired man. Pulling her back down to her seat, Nesta hissed, “Stop it! You’re not being very subtle!”

“I wasn’t trying to be,” Gwyn shot back, still looking around her. “I can’t see him. With that hair, it shouldn’t be that hard to find him. Plus, us redheads are always aware of each other, ya know, since there’s not that many of us. It’s kind of like a telepathic connection.”

Nesta and Emerie exchanged a brief glance before bursting into laughter. Gwyn joined in, snorting into her drink, earning a few stares from several women at the next table over.

“But really,” Emerie pressed on. “Who was that?”

“I… didn’t actually get his name.”

“And yet he’s still paying for our drinks for the evening? Did you even thank him?”

“Geez, mom, sorry I forgot to thank the mysterious and handsome drink benefactor while we were flirting with each other,” Nesta groaned, though she realized with a guilty start that she did neglect to thank him for the free drinks. “I’m sure I’ll see him before we leave tonight.”

“How much of him will you be seeing?” Gwyn perked up, her teal eyes sparkling with excitement. “He was very handsome - “

“Gwyn!”

“ - and he looked like he wanted to eat you,” she finished with relish, taking a dainty sip of her drink.

Nesta blushed. Needing to deflect her friend’s attention off her, she said, “Like Mor onstage wasn’t looking at Emerie the same way?”

Mission accomplished. It was Emerie’s turn to flush and stutter, claiming they were just here to support her friend at one of her singing gigs.

“Yeah, yeah,” Gwyn interrupted, grinning at each of them. “Let’s not worry about all that. Let’s listen to music, dance, and have as many free drinks as we can handle. Speaking of,” she said, standing up and pointing at Emerie. “I’m already done with this drink and want to try what she’s having. Anyone need anything?”

By the time Gwyn had returned with her second drink, the crowd had thinned as everyone crammed into booths and tables in anticipation of Mor starting her set. Finally the band appeared on stage, taking their positions at their instruments: trumpets, trombones, and saxophones, a drum set, even a piano tucked away in the corner. Emerie clapped when Mor came on the stage, and without even an introduction, the band started.

From the opening beats of Irving Aaronson’s Let’s Misbehave , one of Nesta’s favorites, she knew she wasn’t going to be able to stop herself from joining the dancefloor before too long. The musicians were extremely talented - whoever had brought them in had clearly only wanted the best Prythia had to offer. Mor’s voice rang out strong, steady and smooth. She didn’t just sing, she interacted with the crowd and got them even more worked up the longer she performed.

By the time the band moved onto Swanee, Gwyn had dragged Nesta and Emerie to the dancefloor with a laugh, joining a throng of young people and couples. Nesta had always loved dancing. Her grandmother had insisted she have some type of dance training, and it was the only thing from her she was thankful to her grandmother for. She loved dancing the waltz with a partner, or dancing a carefree version of the Charleston in a crowd.

The three of them danced, only stopping to take hurried sips of their drinks. Nesta felt a slight sheen of sweat on her grinning face, feeling happier than she had in a long time.

“Alright, everyone,” Mor announced into the microphone. Her voice was decadent and sultry, despite having been singing for nearly thirty minutes. “I need a break, so we’re gonna slow things down a bit.”

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Emerie said without looking at either her or Gwyn, making her way over to Mor, who had just stepped off the stage.

Gwyn snorted. “Yeah, I bet she’ll be back real soon. I’m going to get another drink - want anything?”

“I’m just going to sit down for a bit,” Nesta replied. She had only taken a few steps towards their table when a warm hand gently grabbed her elbow.

“I was hoping you’d have one more dance in you for me,” a deep voice murmured in her ear. A chill went down her spine and she met the blazing eyes of her red haired man.

XXX

Nesta Archeron was a force of nature.

Eris’s eyes were glued to her as the night progressed, watching her with her friends as she listened to the band and Mor’s singing, and as she danced happily on the dancefloor.

She was wild and strong-willed, clearly caring and close with her friends, and happiest while on a dancefloor. She was much too good for him.

It only made him want her more.

After what seemed like an age, Mor announced she was taking a break. Nesta and her friends disbanded, one to rush off to talk to Mor - interesting - and the other to grab another drink. Quickly moving from his booth, he had just managed to wrap a gentle hand around her elbow before she left the dance floor.

“I was hoping you’d have one more dance in you for me,” he said. Immediately he felt her stiffen slightly, and a tremor ran through her body. Her blue-gray eyes slowly met his. Her face was flushed, whether from her dancing or the whiskey making its way through her body, or perhaps both.

The opening trumpet to Louis Armstrong’s West End Blues rang out sharp and strong through the room. Nesta held out her hand as the trumpet slowed, and a clarinet, trombone, and piano joined along in a perfect cacophony of slow jazz.

“Lucky for you, I love dancing and never tire of it,” Nesta said as he took her offered hand in his and placed a hand on her waist, her remaining hand landing on his shoulder as they began to move. Around them, a few other couples were softly swaying to the steady beats of the song, but Nesta only had eyes for him .

This close to her, Eris could smell Nesta’s perfume - surprisingly luscious and rich, with spiced undertones. He wondered where she applied it and if it would taste as good as it smelled on her.

“Lucky for me indeed. Are you having a good evening here?”

“Very much so. I realized I never thanked you for the whiskey and drinks, nor asked for your name, Mister…?”

“Vanserra. Eris Vanserra.”

Her smile dipped. Good, Eris thought. This one is smart enough to know about me and be at least a little afraid.

Just as quickly as her smile dropped from those plush red lips, it reappeared in force. “Well, Mr. Eris Vanserra - “ Eris had to suppress the shiver that ran down his spine and ended straight at his cock at her sultry voice, “ - thank you for your generous hospitality this evening. It was terribly rude of me to not thank you for your kindness earlier.”

“Think nothing of it. It was rude of me to not tell you how magnificent you look tonight.” She smiled bashfully and ducked her head, sweeping her hair behind an ear. “And your hair looks equally as lovely.”

That was the right thing to say. She beamed up at him as they continued swaying to the music, and Eris’s heart stumbled at the sight of the sheer happiness on her face.

“Thank you,” she said, before the minx he had been flirty with all evening reappeared. Wetting her lips and batting her eyes, she gazed up at him. ”There must be something I can do to repay you for your generosity.”

His filthy mind immediately thought of those red lips wrapped around his cock, leaving a brand of her lipstick around its base. “There’s nothing to repay. The whiskey tasting still stands though.”

They continued swaying to the slow, steady beat of the music. Feeling adventurous, wanting to see her move and feel more of her lush body in his arms, Eris spun Nesta in a tight circle, bringing her even closer to his body. Her hand not already in his found itself planted firmly on the hard planes of his chest. He hoped she couldn’t feel how fast his heart was beating.

“And what if I want more than just a taste?”

Oh, she was a fiery one, this woman.

“What if you can’t handle any more than just a taste?”

The hand on his chest suddenly moved to the back of his neck. Pulling him down closer to herself, Nesta raised herself on the tips of her toes and whispered in his ear, “I think you’ll find that I can handle quite a bit,” as she placed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Eris leaned down to kiss her, devour her, but she pulled away, lust and excitement shining in her eyes. “Perhaps we should continue this conversation in private? I’m curious if your lips taste as good as your whiskey.”

He groaned. All the blood in his body rushed to his hardening cock; he felt lightheaded with desire. “Tease,” he murmured, as he subtly tried to adjust himself in his pants.

“I just need to find my friends - “

“Your friends are as occupied as you are,” Eris noted. Her dark-skinned friend was still with Mor, softly swaying in each other's arms in a dark corner next to the stage. The redhead was vividly talking to a tall, dark man at the bar - one of the mayor’s underlings, Eris noted. No doubt running reconnaissance or trying to be a spy for the mayor or some other bullshit.

Nesta bit her lip, and Eris found himself irrationally jealous of her teeth. “They’ll be worried about me-“

“I’ll make sure they know who you’re with, that I’ll get you home safe, and even make sure they get home safe tonight,” Eris replied smoothly. He made eye contact with Vince over Nesta’s shoulder, motioning towards each of her friends. Nodding, he started making his way towards the woman dancing with Mor.

Nesta stared unblinkingly into Eris’s eyes, searching his face for any deception. She’d find none - he was too wound up, too enthralled in her snare to do anything that required the willpower to actively deceive her.

“I could do with another glass of whiskey,” she said huskily. Eris grinned, and, still holding her hand, led her out of the Forest House.

XXX

Eris Vanserra.

She had flirted and danced with and nearly kissed Eris Vanserra, and now she was being led to his private rooms for a whiskey tasting. Alone. Just the two of them.

When she had first moved to Prythia, the owner of their boarding house gave them a quick rundown of who really controlled the city. Different crime families commanded different sections of the city, and their boarding house was squarely in the Autumn Court, run by the Vanserra syndicate. “Whatever you do,” she had warned Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie on their first day, “stay away from the Vanserra family for your own good.”

Well, that certainly hadn’t worked out. She heard whispers at work - someone’s brother suddenly disappearing or men trying their hand at bootlegging found dead in the street, their corpses riddled with bullets. Nothing ever seemed to come of it: no stories in the papers or a police investigation opened. The name Vanserra always floated around these events, and she had finally found herself in the crosshairs of its leader.

And she was willingly walking into his den alone.

Nesta wasn’t an idiot and knew what Eris wanted. Did she want that? She stumbled and nearly tripped on a stair. Is this really who she was? She heard her grandmother’s shrill voice in her head scream about her reputation, her propriety, how she didn’t raise Nesta to be a loose harlot -

“Nesta?”

Eris was a step above her, still holding her hand. He was looking back at her with a raised eyebrow, as if he could see the battle that was currently raging in her brain.

Nesta took a steadying breath, then another, and realized she didn’t want to stop. She wanted to spend time with Eris, she wanted to kiss him and touch him and see where the night took them. For once, she wanted to make her own decisions and do something she wanted with her own damn life.

“I’m fine,” she replied with a soft smile. “Just a bit of a stumble.”

He continued leading her up the staircase, stopping as they reached the landing outside a sturdy locked door. He pulled her close and placed a kiss on her knuckles.

“I'd be a terrible host if you got hurt while you were here,” he said, ghosting his lips over her wrist. “I’d have to kiss all your injuries away.”

She shivered. “Is this your apartment?” her voice squeaked.

Chuckling, he withdrew a heavy key from his pocket and slotted it in the keyhole. With a sharp twist and a click, the door opened, and he led her inside.

Nesta was expecting something similar to the decor of the Forest House below. Instead, she found herself in an open Art Deco-inspired space. One corner was dominated with floor to ceiling bookshelves, cut neatly around a tiled fireplace and a built-in liquor cabinet. A pair of plush armchairs were centered by the fireplace with a low table between them. A basic kitchen was tucked in the other corner. The rectangular space was dominated by several large windows that took up most of the back wall of the room. Centered between the windows was a large wooden writing desk.

Eris turned on a lamp in the fireplace sitting area and opened the glass front of the liquor cabinet. “I have several whiskeys we can try, even a few imported varieties from the continent if you’d like to try one of those.”

“I’ll take whatever you’re drinking,” she said, moving over to look at the books jammed in the bookcase. There were a lot of nonfiction titles, and she gazed uninterestedly at the spines until she found a small section of books she recognized.

“You read Sellyn Drake?”

He snorted. “Those are courtesy of my mother, who brought them over so she’d have something to do when she visits.”

“You should give them a chance. They’re not half bad and certainly help me relax and unwind,” Nesta said suggestively. Eris’s eyebrows shot up. “And who knows, maybe you can learn something.”

“I highly doubt there’s anything in those romance books I don’t already know.” His voice had gone an octave deeper as he handed Nesta a glass tumbler filled with a burnished gold whiskey. She swirled the drink inches from her face, taking a deep whiff of its fragrant scent: malty grain, peat, and ending with a slight sweetness.

“Hybernian whiskey,” Eris said, studying Nesta’s reaction to the drink. “Easily some of the best whiskey in the world, its taste is unparalleled. I’m curious if you’ll like it better neat or tasting it on my lips?”

One of Nesta’s eyebrows and the corner of her mouth both lifted up as she stared at Eris with lust-darkened eyes. Clinking their glasses together, she sat down and took a deep sip from her glass.

Immediately, the whiskey’s smoky flavor coated her tongue. She rolled it around her mouth, letting all the flavors come into focus, one by one: nuttiness like almonds, charred wood from the barrel it was aged in, vanilla, and caramel. Each new flavor complimented each other wonderfully. She wasn’t aware that whiskey, or any alcohol, could taste this good.

It was sublime.

She sighed happily, letting her neck fall back against the chair. “This is much better than your whiskey.”

Eris barked a laugh. Nesta noted how the skin around his eyes crinkled and how his smile transformed his face. “You're not wrong - they’re much better equipped at the moment to make superior whiskey than us.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, each content to enjoy their drinks. After taking a particularly long sip, Eris stood up and walked back to the liquor cabinet. He opened a drawer and withdrew a wooden box, setting it on the low table between the two chairs.

“Would you like a cigar?” he said, opening the box to reveal a dozen long, perfectly rolled and formed cigars. “They pair especially well with the whiskey.”

Nesta hummed. “Perhaps not an entire one to myself. I’d be alright just taking a few puffs from yours.”

He chose a brown cigar with a dark green wrapper. Cutting and lighting the cigar with practiced hands and taking a deep drag, Eris released the smoke in a long stream. “Have you ever smoked anything? Cigarettes, menthols?”

Nesta moved to sit on the arm of his chair. The cigar smoke smelt like leather and old library books. Combined with the whiskey, it made her head swim. “I’ve smoked a few cigarettes, though certainly nothing as… big as this cigar.”

By the hitch in his breathing, Nesta knew he understood her perfectly. Taking another drag, Eris lifted the cigar to her lips. “Suck,” he said softly, his eyes intent on hers.

Eris was still holding the cigar when she wrapped her lips around it and took a slight inhale. His eyes were transfixed on her mouth. She kept it in her mouth for a moment, tasting it like her whiskey.

She tilted her head back and looked down at Eris through heavy-eyes as she exhaled. His mouth was slightly open, his breathing harsher than it was just a moment before.

“It seems you had no problem handling something as large as a cigar,” he murmured. One of his large hands touched her knee and began moving slowly up her thigh. “Do you think you could take more?”

“And what could be bigger than a cigar?” Nesta’s voice cracked slightly. She tried to focus solely on Eris’s eyes but his hand was making its way up and up and up her thigh, dangerously close to where she was so wet.

“I could show you, if you’d like.”

This was it - one final out from Eris. It was nice of him to provide it, but he didn’t need to; Nesta’s mind was made up the first time she had laid eyes on him hours before.

“Show me then, unless you’re all talk and no game.”

The hand that was on her thigh, so close to her center - Don’t stop! she wanted to scream - suddenly left her thigh moved to the back of her head, where his fingers threaded her hair to pull her down to his mouth. At the first touch of his plush lips on hers, Nesta knew no one could ever compare. His lips were as soft as they looked, and he devoured her like a patient predator waiting for his prey.

His lips moved against hers seamlessly, like they each already knew what the other liked. The cigar dangled precariously in one his hands, while his other hand that was on her head moved to squeeze her hip; Nesta gasped, and Eris took the opportunity to sweep his tongue in her mouth.

She could taste the whiskey and cigar on his breath: smokey and rich, it complemented Eris as well as his custom suit. Nesta nipped his bottom lip, and Eris’s breath hitched. He suddenly sat upright and practically threw the cigar in his hand on an ashtray as he gripped her hips and hauled her body over his on the chair so she was straddling him. Nesta didn’t wait before leaning down to plant her mouth over his.

His hands moved to her waist, softly squeezing her body, and she gasped above him. Her hands were on his shoulders, and she enjoyed being able to freely touch and feel the man underneath her. His shoulders were muscled and broad, and his thighs were spread wide under her. She lightly scratched his scalp and tugged on his short hair, delightfully surprised at the small moan he let out.

Nesta felt drunk on her discovery that Eris apparently didn’t mind a bit of pain with his pleasure. Her smugness was short-lived when he gripped her waist and forced her down at the same time he lifted his hips up and she felt his arousal through the thin material of her underwear. She gasped as he continued grinding her over his clothed cock, staring at her with an intensity she’d never seen from any man.

“I can’t wait to get my lips all over your body,” he whispered, sounding wrecked. He shoved her dress up her thighs so it bunched around her waist and groaned as he stared at her panty-clad pussy grind against the large bulge in his pants.

“No time like the present.” Nesta tried to sound cool, confident, but knew her voice was breathy and desperate.

Firmly gripping her ass, Eris swiftly stood up. She instinctively locked her legs around his waist as he moved them over to his desk. Kicking his chair out of the way, he lowered her to the wooden surface and kept himself slotted between her legs.

He leaned over her and tried to kiss her, but Nesta wanted more . Pushing him back slightly, she stood up and began ever so slowly to move her dress’s thin straps down her arms. Nesta kept her eyes on Eris’s the entire time, even as she pushed her dress over her hips so it puddled around her feet, leaving her in only her sheer stockings, heels, underwear and lace brassiere.

The way Eris was staring at her was nothing short of a predator finding his prey. His pupils were so dilated his eyes were nearly black; his breath was harsh, and the tension in his body looked like it was going to snap like a rubberband. A considerable bulge tented his trousers.

Nesta had never felt more desirable, so wanted. She felt a small thrum of power course through her. Here was one of the most formidable men in all of Prythia, and he was reduced to a near beast at the sight of her half-naked body. Even if nothing else came from this night, she would always remember this small blossom of power and influence she held for a night.

She deftly unhooked and removed her brassiere with skilled hands, and her underwear quickly followed. She bent over to remove her stockings and shoes when Eris’s rough voice broke through the silence. “Leave them on.”

Grinning like the cat that caught the canary, Nesta stood tall, letting Eris survey her body: her slim, bare shoulders, large breasts with dark nipples, a trim waist that flowed to her hips, and shapely legs and calves. Hopping back on the desk and crossing her legs, Nesta was just about to remark with some quip when he crowded close to her, connecting his lips with hers in a bruising kiss.

“You’re an absolute vision,” he muttered, kissing and biting down her neck to her collarbones. “Let me taste you, please.”

Please.

In the span of a few minutes, she had him begging her. She felt a little thrill run though her at the control she possessed over this dangerous man. She hummed her consent and moaned softly when his large, warm hands trailed down her body to open her legs up. His lips took a more leisurely route down her body, taking each of her nipples in his mouth and sucking lightly. He left trailing kisses and licks down her body before he lowered himself to his knees between her wide spread legs, shrugging off his suit coat and throwing it away to reveal his broad shoulders.

The only man Nesta had previously been with was a middling sort of man from her village. Tomas had never deigned to kiss her between her legs, calling it disgusting and beneath him. Nesta had believed him, thinking that men simply didn’t put their lips between women’s legs like men expected women to do to them.

Eris clearly did not hold that view. Licking a broad stripe up her cunt with his tongue, he held her legs wide open as her legs instinctively tried to close around his head. Nesta leaned back on her hands as she let Eris kiss, lick, and suck her folds. The tip of his tongue grazed her clit, and she let out a sharp gasp; looking down at him, she saw triumph in his eyes as a thick finger entered her.

One of Nesta’s hands flew to Eris’s head to tangle in his hair and keep him on her pussy, though based on the ferocity he licked her, it wasn’t needed. A second finger entered her and started thrusting and curling, and he didn't stop as her legs tightened around his head, the heels of her shoes digging into his shoulder blades. She was quietly moaning and gasping and suddenly his thick fingers hit a particularly sensitive spot. His tongue flicked hard against her clit, and she was coming, letting out a loud moan into the silent air.

Eris had moved his head away from her body and was placing soft kisses to the insides of her thighs. Carefully lowering her thighs off his shoulders, he stood up and captured her lips in a slow, languid kiss that would have taken her breath away if she had had any to begin with. She still faintly tasted the cigar and whiskey but mostly tasted herself on his lips.

Their slow kissing suddenly turned frantic. Nesta pushed his suspenders off his shoulders and they each worked on getting Eris’s clothes off his body as fast as possible. Soon, Eris was naked, kicking his pants away.

Nesta stared at Eris’s cock. It was large and thick - much bigger than her previous lover. She reached forward and wrapped a hand around his length, moving it up and down and watching Eris’s head fall back, the pale column of his throat exposed. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to lick his cock or his neck first. She swiped a thumb over the dark red tip of him, and he gasped.

“Do you have - ?”

“Yes,” he said, reading her mind and reaching down to one of his desk drawers and pulling out a condom.

“Do you often bring women here to fuck them on your desk?” Nesta asked, a challenge in her eyes.

“What if I do?” he replied, rolling the latex down his cock. “Jealous?” He leaned his forehead against hers and rubbed the tip of his cock against her pussy, gathering her wetness against his length.

“No,” she breathed, reaching down to move his cock to her opening. “Just thinking that you’ll never want to bring another woman up here who isn't me after tonight.”

Grinning savagely, Eris slid inside her in one smooth, hard stroke. Nesta gasped and grasped his hip, silently begging him not to move yet. Eris kept still, letting her adjust to him while he placed small kisses on her neck. A large hand moved to her hip and gripped her, cementing them even further together.

Finally Nesta slightly moved her hips, and Eris withdrew before slowly sliding back in to the hilt. Nesta leaned back on her arms as Eris built a steady rhythm between their bodies. He felt deliciously thick in her; she looked down and saw how she was split wide to accommodate him, her wetness making his cock shine.

“You’re taking me so well,” he murmured, watching where her eyes traveled. “Such a good girl for me.”

She whimpered and tightened around him at his words. No one had ever said such lewd things to her before, especially not while intimate. She leaned her head back and sighed, enjoying the feel of Eris’s cock thrusting into her body and his words sending shivers down her spine.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he groaned. His speed picked up. He pulled her ass closer to the edge of the desk so he could better pound into her soft cunt. “Like you were made for me.”

Nesta could only hang onto the desk and his shoulders as his pace turned punishing. The sound of their wet flesh hitting each other flooded the room, drowned out by their moans and groans. Nesta hadn't been serious when she told Eris he’d never want to bring another woman to his apartment after tonight and had only wanted to rile him up a bit. She realized, however, as his thumb moved to her clit and his hips angled up to hit that sensitive spot inside her, that maybe she hadn’t been joking at all.

“Want you to come on my cock,” he whispered in her ear. “Can you be a good girl for me and come all over me?”

“Yes, yes, please,” Nesta groaned. His thumb on her clit was stroking her just right, and with a particularly well placed hard thrust of his cock, she fell apart. She squeezed her eyes shut and bright stars erupted behind her eyelids. A warmth traveled up her spine and through her limbs, like the whiskey she had drunk earlier, but this was more intense, better. Her legs were trembling and her arms gave way, but Eris was holding her body to his, keeping her supported.

His eyes were boring into hers with a fiery intensity. A lock of his hair was plastered against his sweaty forehead. Nesta swept his hair away from his face, threaded her fingers through his hair and tugged; with a strangled gasp, Eris came, letting out a loud, deep moan into her shoulder. His powerful hips stuttered against hers, holding her body to his.

They both lay there in silence, collecting their breaths. Nesta had started to think of how she would awkwardly redress and depart for the evening when Eris interrupted her train of thought. “Stay here tonight.”

Nesta blinked. Once, twice. She hadn’t counted on that. She had originally only wanted a bit of fun, a chance to test her newfound freedom and ability to choose whatever she wanted for herself. Did she want to be entangled with Eris Vanserra for any longer than was necessary?

Eris sensed her indecision. “It’s late, and I’ll take you home in the morning. After breakfast,” he said, nipping along her jaw and sending more shivers throughout Nesta’s body.

“I’m going out to lunch with my girlfriends tomorrow.”

“Plenty of time for me to make you breakfast and get reacquainted with you then,” he said, looking at her. He kissed her softly. “If you don’t want to, I’ll take you home tonight. But you’d be missing out on some excellent coffee I have,” he said, grinning slightly.

Nesta laughed. “Fine, but only for the coffee,” she replied. He withdrew from her with a hiss and helped her off the desk. She rubbed her bottom - she would undoubtedly be a bit sore from where the desk was biting into her soft flesh.

Eris tsked. “Looks like you’re hurt. I said I’d be a terrible host if you were injured while you were here and I’d have to kiss all your injuries away.” He swept her up in his arms. “I’d better get started on kissing that particular injury.” Nesta laughed as Eris carried her to his bedroom, where her laughter turned back into moans before too long.

XXX

Eris had known he would end up between Nesta Archeron’s thighs before the end of the night. What he hadn’t expected, however, was for her to be so intoxicating, so quick-witted, so interesting, that he’d invite her into his bed for the entire evening and morning.

He lay in his bed with her; she was still sleeping after their intense night. Her time spent dancing had strengthened her legs, which he got to experience when she rode him last night, the muscles in her thighs flexing with every sharp swivel of her hips. He gave her legs a break later when he pushed her down and pounded into her from behind, watching her ass bounce against his hips. He had whispered such filthy things to her, things most partners of his shied away from, and she had responded in kind, telling him of all the things she wanted to do to him, how he made her feel.

Eris turned on his side to stare at her. Even after being fucked all night, she was still the most captivating woman he had ever seen. He could already envision her in his life, in his home, in his bed, naked and trembling in his bed sheets, face flushed with pleasure, that wickedly talented mouth gasping and moaning his name. But he could also see more mundane things: her engrossed in a book in his small reading nook with a roaring fire while he worked at his desk, going out to a dancehall together, or going back to his estate outside the city for a more extensive whiskey tasting.

Eris had rarely thought of finding someone and settling down. He was still young, and most women who wanted him only wanted his name and the perks that came with him. He still wasn’t sure if he wanted that, much less if Nesta would be right for him, but he would at least be willing to spend more time with her and get to know her better.

As if she could hear him thinking about her, she opened her bleary eyes and smiled. “Good morning,” she said, her voice husky with sleep.

“Good morning,” he said, leaning over to cup her jaw and kiss her. She responded so perfectly to him, leaning further into his body. He felt her nipples perk up against his chest and he reached over to grab her hip and move her on top of him -

Before she pushed him away with a shove to his shoulder. He stared wide eyed at her.

“Ah, ah, ah. I believe someone promised me some excellent coffee this morning,” she said primly, rolling out of bed and throwing on one of his shirts. It just barely covered her cute ass, and the sight of her in his clothes nearly short-circuited his entire brain. “I think I need some caffeine right away, especially since you and that big cock of yours kept me awake nearly all night,” she said, winking at him.

Yes, he thought to himself, watching Nesta saunter out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. He most certainly wanted to get to know Nesta Archeron much better.

#nesta archeron #eris vanserra #neris #acotar #acotar secret santa 2022 #Mobster!Eris #Flapper!Nesta #my fic #a court of thrones and roses

72 notes · View notes

bookish-whore · 1 year

Text

Family Traditions

Rhysand x Feyre

Words: 2.8k

Warnings: None that I can think of!

A/N: Hey @high-bi-imgonnacry it's me, your secret santa for the @acotargiftexchange I wrote this fluffy imagining of a solstice gone awry (with baby Nyx) and I hope you like it!! Happy Holidays <3

--------------------------------------------------

Two days.

There were two days until the winter solstice, and it seemed as though all of Velaris was celebrating. There were lights strewn up on all the shops of all different colors, and there were green wreaths wrapped in red ribbon adorning all the streetlights. The soft fall of snow cast the city in an idyllic haze of white, and the streets were quiet, the residents deciding to stay in away from the cold as Feyre made her way to her studio along the rainbow.

She woke in the middle of the night with the perfect gift in mind for Rhys. Last solstice she had gifted him the portrait of herself from the Ouroboros and had told him she was ready to start a family with him. Flash forward a year and they were celebrating their first solstice with Nyx, so much had happened and yet she radiated happiness as she made the trek through the snow.

It was times like this she was reminded of how far she had come, only three years ago she was preparing for a long winter in the little shack her family lived in, if she could even call it that. Her bones frozen from her time in the woods and her mind wandering to what else was out there, what else was in store for her life.

If only she could go back and tell that naïve girl who dreamed of the stars what awaited her. A family, a mate, a crown, a court of dreamers who just like her were creating a better world.

As she approached the back entrance of her studio, she heard the faint sound of wings. She didn’t need to turn to know it was her mate. That busybody.

“I thought I would find you here” Rhys voice purred as he landed behind her pulling her in for a kiss.

Feyre didn’t respond, she quickly entered the studio taking off her jacket, rubbing her hands together to warm them.

“You’re freezing” he noted closing the door behind them, taking in the redness of her nose as she discarded her thick wool scarf on a chair by the window

“I walked” she said collecting canisters of paint and brushes and a fresh canvas from the small storage room.

“Why not fly?” he asked

“I couldn’t sleep” Feyre said

“So you decided to catch frostbite two days before your birthday? Come on, tell me what’s bothering you” he said, opening his arms wide to accommodate her.

“I just want it to be perfect” Feyre admitted moving into his open arms and pressing her head against his chest.

“It will be, it’ll be our brand of perfect” Rhys said pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Its just this year is so special… its Nyx’s first solstice, and Cassian and Nesta’s first one together and we have so much to celebrate but I just feel-” Feyre took a deep breath “I just feel like something is going to go wrong”

“Nothing is going to go wrong. We have been through enough.” Rhys said tracing a finger down the tattoo that connected them to one another, the promise to only leave this world together.

“I just can’t shake this-”

“I’m going to tell you what’s going to happen, and I need you to listen to me” he said taking her hands in his, rubbing comforting circles along her knuckles “We are going to have a wonderful dinner, and a large cake, for you darling of course and we’re going to drink and remember all we have been through this year. Then we’re going to exchange gifts and I’m going to take my son to his first official snowball fight. Nothing bad is going to happen except maybe that you and Cassian get too inebriated to decorate the house again.”

“Okay” Feyre whispered against his chest

“I love you” Rhys said grasping her head between his hands as he looked into her eyes. Feyre could see the absolute truth in them as she leaned in to kiss him.

“I love you too” she said against his lips as they pulled away “Now go away so I can work on your gift”

“Fine, but be back at home for breakfast”

“You know I wouldn’t miss it for the world” Feyre said as he stepped out of the studio. She heard the sound of him taking off and she began sketching the image in her mind.

Once satisfied with her painting, she stuck it in the supply closet to dry and to keep it away from prying eyes. She checked the time and decided to fly home, it would be fastest, considering the sun was beginning to crest over the mountains. Feyre had decided to land on the balcony of her room with Rhys, and as she walked into the room her heart swelled at the sight in front of her. Rhysand was asleep on his stomach, his wings delicately stretched over him and tucked under his wing was Nyx.

“Good morning my sweet boy” she whispered at the small babe who opened his eyes at the sound of his mothers’ voice, letting out a small yawn and stretching his arms to Feyre. She gently scooped him into her arms and made her way downstairs. She would let her mate sleep a little while longer.

Feyre was midway through feeding Nyx his breakfast when Rhys emerged.

“Hello Feyre Darling” he said pressing a kiss to her temple “And good morning to you sweet prince” he said to the boy in her lap. “How was the painting last night” he asked, taking a place next to her, and serving himself.

“It was perfect” Feyre said, her smile beaming “I can’t wait to show you how it turned out”

They finished their breakfast passing Nyx back and forth between them while finalizing the plans for the festivities the following day.

Everything would be absolutely perfect.

--------------------------------------------------

It was her birthday.

Feyre opened her eyes in surprise to find that the room was colder than usual, and that it was quite dark. She looked to the sitting area and took note of the bright orange radiating in the space. The fire was doing little to heat the space and as she looked outside, she understood why.

There was a blizzard, you could hardly see anything amidst the curtain of white and it was so dense that it completely blocked out the sun, the sky was a dark grey and the wind whipped against the shutters causing a few loud knocks against the house every now and again. Feyre couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. They were snowed in.

She rose from bed making her way to the nursery, it was her first destination every morning and since Rhys wasn’t in bed with her, she assumed he would be with the baby. She was right, per usual.

She walked into the room to find Rhys sitting in one of the chairs, cradling Nyx to his bare chest. He was saying something softly to the little one, but Feyre couldn’t quite make it out.

“Good morning my loves” Feyre said

Rhys immediately rose, making his way to his mate in a few short steps “Happy Birthday darling” he purred pressing a kiss to her temple as he seated Nyx into his mother’s waiting arms. Feyre cuddled the boy, peppering his face with kisses.

“And before you freak out about the storm, I already took care of everything” Rhys said into her ear, the gesture alone had Feyre’s heart swelling with emotion. He knew how important it was to her that everything went smoothly and waking up to the storm had her mind swirling with anxiety.

She flashed a smile at her mate “I can’t wait to see what you came up with” she said

Together the three of them made their way downstairs for an elaborate breakfast of all Feyre’s favorite foods, it was one of the most extravagant settings she had seen, and with him she expected nothing less. He had always shown her his affection through acts of service.

Halfway through their decadent breakfast service, Azriel showed up.

Feyre was surprised to see the male, dressed not in his usual fighting leathers. He wore a black t-shirt, that clung nicely to his toned torso and a pair of casual, loose blue plaid linen pants. Before she could make a remark about the clothing, Rhys was standing, clasping her hands in his and leading her away from the table.

“Wait- Rhys whe-” she began to protest

“you’ll see” Rhys said

“But what ab-” she tried to say before Rhys cut her off “you know how much Nyx loves Az and his shadows; he’ll be fine for a while” She simply smiled as her mate led them to their shared room. As they approached, Feyre sent teasing thoughts through the bond, images of them together in the cabin, their bedroom, the dining room, all places he had shown her for hours how much he loved her.

“Unfortunately for you feyre darling, there isn’t enough time before the festivities for me to properly show you my adoration but trust me tonight I will worship the ground you walk on”

Her toes curled at the promise of later.

As they walked into the bedroom, Feyre noticed the box sitting on top of their bed. Rhys simply urged her forward “Open it” he said making his in front of her to watch her reaction.

She delicately untied the ribbon holding the parcel closed and removed the lid, it took her a moment to realize it was clothing in the box. Three small wrapped sets of black satin pajamas lied inside, she thought they looked sleek and refined like the high lord himself. Feyre also noticed that there was intricate silver embroidery on the right side of the chest of each set. One had an R, one an F, and the third an N. She beamed at her mate, smiling broadly at him.

“Rhys, I love them, but- what are these for?” she asked

“for today” he stated

“I thought we had a formal party tonight; this hardly seems like appropriate attire”

“I cancelled the party, on account of the weather”

“But what about your traditions?” Feyre asked

“I think it’s time we make some new ones” he said, and in response she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace, Rhys brought his arms around her torso, simply holding her in place.

--------------------------------------------------

After changing into their matching pajamas, Rhysand and Feyre made their way downstairs to where their family was waiting.

“I had Azriel winnow everyone here, and I was very specific about the dress code” Rhys said as they approached the sitting room.

Her eyes drifted first to Cassian and Nesta, who wore matching red flannel sets, they sat together holding Nyx between them. She couldn’t help but think that they would make great parents when the time was right. Next, she saw Amren and Varian on one of the sofas. Amren seated in his lap and the two of them wore sets of shimmering grey material. It looked silver depending on the lighting in the room and they sat engaged in a conversation with Az, still in his blue attire from earlier.

Mor, always one for good fashion wore a red nightgown that clung to her body perfectly, accentuating all her curves, and over it she wore a red satin robe and across from them sat Elain and Lucien. Feyre was surprised to see her sister considering they had just departed to the Day Court to begin learning the history and traditions of the court they would one day lead, since accepting the bond they both were inseparable and today were wearing a fitting shade of green the both of them beaming as they listened to Mor tell a story about a recent occurrence at Rita’s.

Once feyre and Rhysand were noticed in the doorway the room went silent as everyone rushed over to give their birthday and solstice wishes to the high lady.

Nesta and Elain were first, pulling their sister into a hug with Nyx cooing between them, followed by Mor, Cassian, Az and Lucien. Amren exchanged a glance with Feyre raising her glass to her, which for Amren was as good as a hug.

--------------------------------------------------

They spent the day catching up and reminiscing over previous years.

As the sun went down, they began exchanging their gifts. Feyre had received a number of wonderful items from her family. Nesta had gifted her some books, Mor had gifted her some lingerie, Lucien and Elain wanted to bring her and Rhys to the Day court for a vacation, Az gave her a new bow and quiver, Amren gave her a crown fit for a high lady and Rhysand… he gave her a book of photographs, a look back at their year with Nyx and he had given her the promise of more children when she was ready. It echoed what she had said the previous year and she smiled at the gesture.

It was time for Feyre to exchange her gifts. For Nesta, she had gotten a rare, first edition of her favorite book and for Elain, a book about her seer ability as not much was known about it. For Lucien, she had gotten a tunic; for Cass and Az, she got a set of daggers. Amren, per usual, was given some extravagant jewelry and for her mate…

She had painted him something, with Cass and Az’s help.

She winnowed to her studio to retrieve the painting and as she presented it to him his violet eyes lined with tears. It was a depiction of their family she had painted a long couch with herself, Rhys and Nyx at the center surrounded by their family and behind them she had painted those no longer with them. She painted her father, Rhysand’s mother, and his sister. Thanks to memories from Cassian and Azriel.

He wiped the tears from his eyes at the sight of his mother and sister after all these years and brought her in to a passionate kiss.

You have no idea what this means to me. He said in her mind, not trusting his voice to shake if he spoke the words aloud.

Happy Solstice Rhys. she said back

Once the adults had all exchanged gifts, Nyx was next and was absolutely spoiled. He got an assortment of toys and clothes and jewels to last years. Feyre smiled at the thought that all of these people adored her son as much as she did.

After they had exchanged gifts there was food brought in and an extravagant cake. It was four tiers, each decorated with a memory of each year she had spent solstice. The bottom was decorated to resemble the forest where feyre had killed the wolf those years ago, the second was the spring court where she had spent her first solstice with the fae, the third tier was the night sky dark and cloudless and endless and on the top was a reminder of this year, there was a depiction of a harp, a mask, and a crown, all reminiscent of the power Nesta had given up to save her sister and bring her nephew into the world. Feyre wiped the tear that had fallen from her eye as she stared at the cake a reminder of all she had been through and how happy she was to have found home.

After the cake, Nyx went to sleep for the night and the real party began. There were drinks and games and Cassian who was walking around the room with mistletoe.

“Oh, come on Nes” Cassian teased while holding the tightly wrapped bundle of mistletoe above their heads “Just one kiss”

Nesta simply gave him one of her signature glares and returned to her conversation with Amren.

Without missing a beat, Cassian found his way to Azriel on the couch, dangling the mistletoe over the shadowsingers head and gave him a suggestive nod.

Azriel smiled, swallowing the remaining amber liquid in his glass in one gulp and grasped Cassians head with both of his hands and planted a kiss to his lips “consider that your gift” he says softly with a low chuckle.

The room erupted in laughter, and as Feyre looked around the room, at her family so happy and carefree, at her mate, she looked forward to next solstice and whatever new traditions lie in store for them.

#feyre x rhysand #rhysand x feyre #nyx acotar #nyx archeron #cassian x nesta #elain x lucien #amren x varian #azriel shadowsinger #mor acotar #acotar secret santa 2022

65 notes · View notes

fieldofdaisiies · 1 year

Text

secret Santa present for: @iambutmortal (my message for you is at the end 💚) @acotargiftexchange, thank you for this great event!!

..............................................................................................

pairing: Elain x Lucien word count: 10k words info: canon-compliant, post ACOSF type: a little bit of angst, a fine amount of smut, overall fluff summary: Lucien and Elain are finally putting everything aside and listen to their hearts one Solstice Evening. But obviously that does not work without some misunderstanding that creates a bit of angst and unease. And since our favourite male with fire in his blood is involved there is also a fine amount of smut in this story.

Her whole body covered in a thin layer of flour and with her fingers kneading the chocolaty dough in front of her, Elain stood in the kitchen of the Riverside House. Absently, her fingers danced over the dough, her eyes were trained on outside, watching the scenery.

What was Elain watching? The snowflakes dancing around in the air? The oh so powerful High Lord of the Night currently sitting in snow, roaring with laughter?

No, Elain’s sole focus was on her mate. Her mate who swirled the tiny heir to the Night Court around, throwing Nyx into the air, catching him again. His small wings flapped behind his back every time he was up in the air. They laughed loudly, Nyx giggling uncontrollably when he once again landed in his uncle’s arms.

Colour bloomed in Elain’s cheeks when she caught herself grinning at the scenery she was watching. Her heart swelled, beating against her rib cage. She had to admit that her ovaries did some tiny, happy flips at the sight of Lucien and how he acted with his nephew. It was truly a sight for sore eyes. And not to start about the fiery male himself.

Lucien, he looked stunning with his hair the colour of fire, his jacket a forest green, his tall and muscular body standing in the middle of the endless white.

The dough long forgotten, Elain turned her back to the window, leaned against the counter, crossed her arms over her chest and bit down on her lip. What could she do that that night would turn out differently than every time before? How should she approach him? How would he react after years of ignorance?

Those cookies she was making were specifically for her mate. She had it all planned out, had been daydreaming about it already many times in the past days. Nuala, Cerridwen and herself had made the plan with the cookies that were then in the making. The plan and everything that came after it sounded so damn good in Elain’s mind she simply had to smile again when thinking about it.

Elain would offer her mate the cookies. Lucien would accept them. She would apologise then for the past years and Lucien would accept that apology as well. And then there were two ways, Elain had imagined, about how that conversation could continue.

Firstly, they would talk, that she would apologise again, Lucien would bring her to his chest, hug her, hold her, comfort her. He would tell that it is fine and that he wanted to accept the bond with her.

Second option would be a little bit…spicier. Oh gods! The things she had already imagined when it came to Lucien… Elain knew that she could never let anyone know. Not even Nuala and Cerridwen, her best friends.

The second option would be that he would kiss her —first softly then more passionately. Lucien would sit her on the counter, both would loose their clothes, he would taste her —Grayson had never done that but she imagined Lucien to be a male who liked doing that sort of things. Elain he would softly whisper with his beautiful, deep voice, his head between her thighs. Elain squeezed her thighs together at that thought, giggling sheepishly. Lucien would then take her on the counter, then they would go over to the table. Elain.

Maybe he would turn her around, so that her front was facing the table. Elain. She obviously had no idea how that worked, had only ever read about that in one of Nesta’s books, but she was sure Lucien had experience in that matter. He would move—

"Elain!" Someone was snapping their fingers in front of the Archeron sister’s face. Shrieking slightly, Elain blinked her eyes open, not even remembering when she had closed them.

"Are you trying to burn down the whole house, sweetie?" It was the tall Illyrian general who stood in front of her. One hand held a tray of burnt cookies the other was braced on his hip while he examined Elain. Amusement laced his features and he raised a brow. He definitely knew that Elain had been daydreaming and Cassian for sure also knew about who she had been dreaming. Good thing was that he did not know the…dirty things she had been thinking about. Gods! A hole in the ground should open if he knew.

"Daydreaming huh? Don’t worry the male of your dreams will soon come inside. Nyx wanted to build another fortress though so it can take a little while before they actually get inside."

Elain’s lips parted, she wanted to protest or at least say something, but nothing left her mouth. She forced a smile to her lips and nodded.

Cassian’s features turned soft, sincere and honest. He placed the tray on the counter and inhaled deeply. "Lucien is a good male, Elain. He likes you, this is very obvious. Don’t make it so hard for him, sweetie, he does not deserve that.”

Elain had to giggle at that and buried her hot face in her hands. "How can you read me so well, general?"

Cassian laughed at that. He leaned forward and kissed his sister-in-law’s cheek, before making a spin on his heels and heading for the living room.

On the threshold he paused and looked at Elain over his shoulder. "I am your sister’s mate. You are quite similar in many ways. And apart from that, I have also known you for quite a while. You get that look on your face when you think about Lucien.”

The tall Illyrian flashed Elain a toothy grin and winked before disappearing into the living room, leaving Elain alone with her tray of burnt cookies and the dough for Lucien’s cookies that still had to be done. Gods!

Enough with the daydreaming, a lot had to be done then. Elain also still had to make the cream for the cookies so that they would truly be perfect for her mate.

Stress kicked in the moment she finished her thought. But also anticipation, excitement and euphoria. Happily giggling and clapping her hands once, Elain turned back to the counter and went back to work on her dough.

That day, that Solstice would change everything, Elain knew it. That day —maybe night— would be the start of something new. Of something great!

✧ ✧ ✧

"You can have one. Take the chocolate one with the cream, they are the best." Elain’s voice was cheery, yet soft and calm. The emissary hadn’t heard her enter his gaze solely focused on his mate’s freshly baked goods.

With colour blooming high on his defined and tanned cheeks Lucien turned around, his hands simultaneously moving into the pockets of his pants. Anticipation bubbled inside of him – he hadn't seen Elain in such a long time, had been yearning to hear her voice again. And there it was, her soft and mellifluous voice, one of the most beautiful sounds in the entire world.

Elain’s heart pounded in her chest when her mate turned around. He looked so handsome, his style simply magnificent.

Lucien had dressed up even more for Solstice, a green suit jacket perfectly fitted for him paired with dark brown breeches and polished boots of the same colour. His hair was neatly combed back, fixed with a leather strap. He was a male of stunning, cruel beauty and—

Elain was totally staring. Colour and heat filled her from her cleavage up to the top of her head, a soft laugh slipping through her lips.

Lucien forgot how to breath when his eyes locked with Elain's. There she stood, Elain Archeron, the king slayer, the most beautiful female in Prythian, his mate.

She was dressed in the most stunning forest green dress, her long hair falling in soft waves over one shoulder, her fawn eyes lighting up when their gazes met. It still felt odd to think about Elain in such a way, had he once thought of Jesminda to be the most beautiful female in the world. But there was no comparison to Elain—her presence alone could light up the darkest night.

And maybe Lucien had just imagined it, but there had been that spark in her eyes. A spark full of anticipation, of hope and admiration.

The corner of Lucien’s mouth tipped up when he bowed his head and parted those beautiful lips that Elain often found herself gazing at.

"Lady Elain," he greeted, his voice a deep rumble through the room. The richness of it reverberated through Elain and made the hair on her body rise—it had been such a long time since she a had heard his voice.

"You look…beautiful tonight, my lady," Lucien breathed and watched his mate’s cheeks turn even a shade darker. Marvelous, he had wanted to say, breathtaking, stunning, magnificent. But he had chosen beautiful, not wanting his compliment to be too straightforward.

You too, Elain wanted to say but she didn’t. Why didn’t she? She had no idea. The words just died in her throat, her nervousness about his presence —about her mate’s presence— being too much for her to form a coherent thought and—

"A cookie. Have one, Lucien.”

Lucien breathed a soft laugh and dipped his chin. "Thank you, I think I'll have one later," the emissary said with a smile on his lips.

"Feel free to have one now!" Elain pushed. She wanted him to taste them. Those cookies had specifically been baked them for him, the cream topping was made of whipped cream with cinnamon and sunflower seeds. She thought it was perfect for her mate. It was his present!

"Later. I am not hungry now, my lady." Lucien smiled again, his heart rapidly beating against his rib cage. He could not accept them now. Not like that. Not with what it would mean…

Elain’s smile faltered, her eye brows creasing. She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. "Of course,” the Archeron sister mumbled and dipped her chin.

“There is still something…some things…something concerning the food in the dining room I have to do. I have to do—prepare, I mean,” she hastily brought out and waved at Lucien, spinning around on her heels, momentarily nearly colliding with the doorframe before heading out of the room.

Why did her throat feel so dry all of a sudden? It burned and she—

Why hadn’t Lucien accepted her cookies? Why didn’t he want one? Why did he—

Was he finally tired of her constantly shutting him out? Pushing him away? Being ignorant towards him.

She would understand it. Honestly it would make so much sense if he no longer wanted to trail after her. He obviously had to be tired of her ignorance… Of course lately it had got better. Elain had sought his company more often, but had never really made that much conversation with him. It had always stayed with how the other one was doing and what they were about to do. It was just…the mating bond made everything so complicated. Elain often found herself to be so terribly nervous around Lucien, she could not even think straight.

A bolt pierced through Lucien's heart when Elain had stormed out of the room. But accepting those cookies would mean accepting food from his mate which would mean sealing the bond. He wanted nothing more than that, the bond —of course— but Elain did not, or at least had not made a sign that she did. He could not force her into that like that. Elain had probably no idea what she had suggested and what it would mean. He had wanted to explain it, but Elain had already left. He would talk to her later. Maybe there would be a chance for just the two of them to talk?

Lucien had noticed that Elain had changed a bit around him. Other than hiding and shying away he had noticed that she had sometimes sought his company in the past months. But they hadn’t really talked. Shy glances, sheepish smiles, polite nods and some small talk had been the most of communicating they had done.

Maybe things would change a little bit that night? Maybe things would finally go into a different direction that night? The longest night of the year.

When Lucien walked into the family dining room moments later he was already highly expected by —who would have guessed— one of his newly found friends, the Lord General of the Night Court armies, Cassian. Clapping his hand on the table and then waving Lucien over, Cass hollered, “Come here, you clever fox. Saved that seat for you.”

Lucien had to admit that out of all the people present, safe for Elain, he liked Cassian the most. He had become his friend quite easily, they shared a lot of interests and always found something to talk about. That was, Lucien thought, quite a relief. Since having befriended Cassian, coming to the Night Court had become less awkward, now he had someone else to talk to when Feyre did not have time.

Happy and excited chatter filled the room while food got handed out. Lucien was rather hesitant with scooping foot onto his plate so Cassian took it into his hand to fill the emissary‘s plate with enough food.

Everyone was enjoying the different dishes, praising the cooks —Nuala, Cerridwen and Elain— and engaging in talks about everything and anything.

“I was thinking about going to the continent for a while,” Lucien said and drew Cassian’s attention to him.

“The continent?” Cass asked with raised brows and Lucien bowed his head.

“Why? Why now? Why at all? The continent is fucking far away?!” Cassian exclaimed and a crease on his forehead appeared.

Lucien shrugged one shoulder and scooped up a spoonful of potatoes, but then placed it down again.

“She likes you. So if it is just because of Elain, then don't do it. It would be foolish. Actually you two are foolish. Well, blind fools is what you are.” The Illyrian general had to chortle when he finished his sentence. Lucien didn’t really feel like laughing, what Cassian had said already occupying his mind. Elain liked him. He had had an inkling that she started to feel more comfortable around him, but Cassian…Cassian probably had more insight being mated to Elain’s older sister. Lucien’s chest warmed when a small smile tugged on his lips and a kernel of hope bloomed in his chest.

It vanished just a second later.

The emissary lifted his gaze, his food mostly untouched on his plate, and looked over to where Elain sat. She was already looking at him, her eyes sad, her demeanour somber. Lucien swallowed thickly when Elain quickly averted her gaze. She looked at Mor, then at Azriel and lastly at Feyre, forcing a smile to her lips. It was her sister’s birthday, she had to try to act happy at least.

Lucien saw that Elain’s smile did not reach her eyes and he hated that he apperently was the reason for her sadness. He had always been the reason for her discomfort but now…now she was sad because of him. That hurt even more.

She should have just given him a chance to explain and not immediately run off.

“Elain,” Lucien said, his mouth acting quicker than his brain. The female’s gaze snapped to him, her fawn eyes wide open while she parted her lips.

Feyre stopped mid-sentence, focusing on Lucien and what he was about to say. Lucien hated that. Hated that everyone always seemed so very invested in their relationship. Yes, Elain was Feyre’s sister, but it was Elain’s damn life and she did not always need surveillance from her older sister.

“Could you pass me the salt please?”

A crease appeared on Elain’s forehead, but quickly her hand reached forward and without a word being spoken she handed Lucien the salt. Then without giving Lucien another glance she turned back to Mor. One could cut the tension with a knife, it somehow uncomfortable for everyone present. Nesta cleared her throat, it being obvious on her face that she searched for something she could say to interrupt the excruciating silence.

“Jurian,” she croaked and cleared her throat again. “Jurian, how is our once-human, once eye-ball-in-a-ring doing?”

Her question drew a small chuckle from Cassian, both his and his mate’s gaze moving to the Night Court emissary.

Lucien wiped his hands clean on his napkin and lifted his gaze. “Fine. He and Vassa are—” Constantly doing it on every surface and not only once had the Autumn Court male walked in on them.

Lucien would obviously not say that, but—

It was then that Nyx started making grabby hands at his favourite uncle. “Lulu. Lu. Lu. Lulu,” the tiny Illyrian boy blabbered, tears already filling his eyes. Feyre acted quickly, standing, scooping her little boy up and handing him to Lucien who already welcomed him with a big grin and open arms. “Hey, you tiny bat. Missed me already, huh?”

Nyx seemed content about sitting down on his uncle’s lap, giggling happily and grabbing his favourite dragon toy that Azriel handed him.

“Lulu,” Nyx giggled, poking his chest and then fully focused on the toy in his hands.

Lucien’s hand brushed over the little boy’s head before he turned his attention back to Cassian.

“Where were we? Ah, right Vassa and Jurian. They are very close now. Engaged actually,” Lucien said with a small smile on his lips. It must have either been little Nyx, the name Vassa from Lucien’s lips or the word engaged that drew Elain’s attention to their conversation and she glimpsed at her mate over the edge of her glass. She did not drink though, she watched and listened. And gods, if Lucien interacting with his little nephew wasn’t the most adorable thing in this entire world she did not know what would be. And his smile. Lucien’s smile always knocked the breath from her lungs. Elain knew that it could light up the darkest night, even the Hewn City and…her life.

The glass still tipped to her lips, her eyes on her mate, she continued to listen. Ugh, Elain thought, did Lucien have to talk so much about Vassa, the beautiful and stunning human queen?

“The firebird has our former general quite wrapped around her finger, huh?” Cassian chuckled.

“Absolutely, he is so enamoured by her.” Are you enamoured…by me? Elain thought. Could people say the same about them?

“Are you inhaling your drink, girl?”

Elain choked on a breath that made her blow air into her drink. The liquid went over the edge the class in one sweep, onto the table and even up into Elain’s face.

“Shit,” the middle Archeron sister cursed under her breath. Had she just cursed? Gods, had his always so formal and well-mannered mate just cursed?

Lucien couldn’t avoid the tiny, happy grin that spread over his face, neither could his heart which made a happy, little leap. Elain looked adorable, flecks of red now covering her face.

Nyx giggle loudly and pointed his tiny index finger at his aunt. “El, El!” he cackled.

Lucien tried to calm him, his thumb swiping over the little boy’s cheek. Her cheeks turning a deep crimson red, Elain lifted her gaze. Lucien was already looking at her, his eyes soft and warm, not mocking her that she had just spilt the wine all over the table and even on her. He smiled and Elain…Elain returned it before pushing her chair back and getting up. “I’ll get cleaned up,” she said, hastily running out of the room.

Elain only returned some time later when everyone had already sat down in the family living room for present giving. Nyx still wouldn’t let go of his favourite uncle and so the fiery male sat on the floor with the Night Court’s heir on his lap. And Elain, she sat down on the couch close to them.

“First one!” Mor cheered happily, jumped up and brought her present over to Rhysand. And so it continued, presents were handed out. Lucien was helping Nyx unpack a present from Nesta, Elain watching them, grinning.

Only Cassian’s low rumble of laughter made her turn. She looked away, leaning back onto the couch and crossed her arms over her chest.

Every present had been handed out at some point later, chatter and laughter started once again and—

Lucien hadn‘t brought her one?

Elain acted like she did not noticed or mind. She smiled between her sister, acting all cheery and joyful. Inside of her, her heart crumbled.

Lucien was still sitting on the floor talking to Mor while both of them played with Nyx. He hadn‘t brought her a present. But honestly it made so much sense—why should he bring her one?

Elain had never gifted him anything. Why should he continue to gift her something?

That year Elain actually had a gift for him —the cookies— but Lucien didn‘t want them. It was all so—

“Elain?“

The female in question snapped her head to the side, eyes full of hope and with anticipation bubbling inside of her, she looked at her mate.

“I think Amren has overlooked your present. It is still—“ Lucien wiggled his arm free from Nyx‘s hold and pointed to the back of the couch, “there somewhere.“

Nodding frantically, Elain grinned at her mate and jumped to her feet. She made a bee-line for the other side of the couch, the deep rumble of her mate following her. Her toes once again curled—ugh, his voice…

Amren had probably not overlooked her present but had rather not been able to lift it and ignored it on purpose. Because, gods, Elain‘s present was huge.

She spun around, searching Lucien‘s gaze across the room. He was already looking at her, eyes glowing brightly. Lucien placed Nyx down, making him sit next to Mor and got up. He strolled over to his mate who already started tugging on a ribbon.

“That is for me?“ Elain gasped. She no longer would hide her excitement.

“Yes,“ Lucien smiled, “It is not much, but I hope you like it.“

The wrapping gone, four pots, flowerpots, of different sizes and decorated with the most beautiful designs ELain had ever seen where revealed to them. Elain lifted one out of the box and grinned from on ear to the other.

“Stunning,“ she breathed. “Thank you so much. How? Where?“

“A friend of mine from the Dawn Court made them. A tinkerer,“ the emissary explained and smiled. His chest exploded with euphoria—Elain was grinning and she loved the present.

It was just when Elain wanted to say that her present had actually been the self-made baked goods, that Rhysand clinked a fork against his glass.

“Feyre, Nyx and I are leaving for the cabin. We will enjoy some family time there,” he said. Azriel had already retired to his room some minutes ago, or wherever he snuck off to lately. Amren and Varian had soon followed suit and Mor and Emerie were also on the verge of leaving for Mor’s apartment.

Cassian, Nesta, Elain and Lucien walked out onto the balcony to say goodbye to High Lord and Lady and their son. The departure was quick and so was Cassian and Nesta’s announcement of also heading upstairs.

The four of them entered the living room together, Cass and Nesta pivoting towards the staircase immediately.

“You do as you wish, little fox. A room is prepared for you, but I assume you rather stay down here a little longer.” Cassian winked at Lucien over his shoulder before scooping Nesta up in his arms and carrying her outside, disappearing.

Elain stood by the fireplace, fumbling with the hems of her dress, her gaze jumping between the pile of wrapping papers and her mate.

Once again the breath got knocked from Lucien’s lungs – a halo of light from the fireplace surrounded Elain's figure, her skin glowing, her eyes shining. His heart skipped a beat when a small smile spread over her face and she parted her lips. “Seems like we are the only ones left,” Elain whispered when she met her mate’s gaze.

Lucien shoved his hands into his pockets, moving closer to Elain. He smiled. “Seems like we are.”

“Tonight was…nice,” Elain breathed, her cheeks heating up. Her trembling fingers toyed with a ruffles of her dress. She had sat down on the couch.

“Yes, it was. Nyx is adorable, isn’t he?” Lucien walked up to his mate, getting closer to her before sitting down as well.

“I—“ “Why did-“ “You first!” “You—“

Both had to giggle at that. Lucien cleared his throat and dipped his chin. “You first, Elain.”

“Why did you eat none of my food tonight? The cookies…they were my Solstice gift. Specifically made for you.”

A small crack appeared in Lucien’s heart, his lips forming a pout. “Elain, I—”

“Is it because of my behaviour in the past years?”

Lucien just had to get closer, to touch her, to convince her that that was not at all it. The fiery male moved closer to her and tugged a loose strand of hair behind Elain’s pointy ear, his eyes not for once leaving his mate’s.

"When a female offers the male food it means they accept the bond, Elain. I couldn’t let this happen without you knowing it. I had to tell you first, I could not just eat and tell you afterwards," Lucien explained, nothing but sincerity in his voice.

“Oh, so thoughtful,” Elain whispered, almost getting lost in her mate’s eyes. Her heart was pounding in her throat, her chest warming at Lucien’s kindness, his thoughtfulness.

"But do you want it? Do you want to accept it?"

Elain could hear it —feel it, how Lucien’s heart sped up, skipping one or the other beat.

"Your food?" he sheepishly asked when colour once again filled his tanned cheek. He truly was the most beautiful male in this world, Elain thought to herself and smiled.

"The bond," she said and although her hands felt shaky, her voice came out strong and steady. "The mating bond with me."

Lucien smiled and for a moment looked past Elain at the opposite wall. The fireplace casted a soft, red-ish light over the walls of the living room. It reminded Lucien of the Autumn Court, but before he could let himself think further about it he looked back at his mate. "Take a guess," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Elain let a breath she hadn’t realised she had been holding in escape and swallowed thickly. Her eyes of brown met one of russet and one of metal, locking. She felt her lower lip tremble when she parted her mouth.

"I would hope so. But—" She cut herself off, swallowing again. "But after all my ignorance towards you, towards this bond, I would understand it if you said no."

The words hurt, cutting into her heart and making tears burn behind her eyes.

It was Lucien who fully closed the distance between them. He leaned downwards, softly brushing his lips over Elain’s forehead. He placed his hands on her shoulders, fingers slightly curling around her soft neck, their eyes locking once again.

"One thing that has to be completely clear for you, Elain, is that not once have I blamed you for your…ignorance. It hurt me of course, but I was never angry. I understood you, still do. I couldn’t believe the whole bond myself and you—you haven’t even been fae," Lucien said, "It must have been so hard for you."

His arms wrapped around his mate’s shoulders, bringing her in for a hug that Elain gladly welcomed, her own arms curling around her mate’s broad torso. She leaned her cheek against his shoulder, marvelling into his beguiling scent—herbs, rich and lush spices, his smell so woodsy, earthy and musky. It was perfect.

Their desire stretched out, making it impossible to breath when they left their embrace. Looking deeply into each other’s eyes, they were inhaling the same air, their hands still touching, heat from one body merging with the other’s.

Lucien drew in a deep breath, eyes scanning his beautiful mate’s face. Elain gave his hands a tiny squeeze, pulling Lucien just an inch closer. The Autumn Court male leaned into his mate, drawing in her scent of honey and jasmine. He smiled to himself, their noses nearly touching, lips only mere inches apart.

"Allow me to kiss you, Elain Archeron," Lucien asked when Elain’s eyes fluttered shut.

"Please," she answered with a breathy voice and was the one to close the distance between their mouths.

The first connection of their lips wasn’t just a brush, wasn’t just a peck, it was a kiss filled with love and understanding and the promise of something more. Something deeper. The kiss carried along the promise of a future together, a mating bond stronger than anything and mutual acceptance and appreciation.

It started soft and gentle, Lucien’s tongue carefully easing Elain’s lips apart, tasting her mouth, exploring. The Archeron sister sighed into the kiss, marvelling into the warmth of her mate, his scent, the feel of his body under her hands. Her hands that slowly, almost teasingly, stroked up his chest before coming to a rest on his shoulders. It was Elain who deepened the kiss, sliding forward on the couch and onto her mate’s lap. She needed more of his touch, she needed to be closer, she needed…Lucien.

Pulling her closer my her hips, Lucien placed one hand on Elain’s neck, his thumb stroking over her jaw. Breathless, he pulled back, his forehead resting against Elain’s, his hot breath tickling her skin.

"You are…" Lucien breathed. Through heavy-lidded eyes he glimpsed at his mate who wore an expectant look, her fawn eyes glowing brightly.

"I am?" Elain whispered. She leaned forward and nipped on the emissary’s lower lip.

"Magnificent," Lucien grinned. "Absolutely magnificent. Breathtaking and stunning. I should have told you that before."

"Why didn’t you? Didn’t think of you to be the shy kind of type,” Elain teased, wiggling her hips slightly. And gods, Lucien loved the feel of it. But what he loved even more was that side of Elain. Not the shy and reserved Elain, but the happy, bubbly, taunting Elain.

The emissary pecked the corner of her mouth and breathed a chuckle. "I wanted to wait for the right moment. When we are alone," he purred, the tenor of his voice making Elain’s toes curl in her wool socks. Something tightened in her lower belly at how he had said 'when were a alone'.

"What else could we do when are alone?"

A smirk appeared on Lucien’s lips. His thumbs were then brushing her wrists.

"What are you thinking about, my lady?" the red haired male drawled and leaned back. Amusement laced his insides when Elain blushed, fighting a grin that threatened to spread all over her face.

"What are you thinking about, my lord?"

A groan of approval at the title Elain had just given him left Lucien. Yeah, he liked the sound of it, how Elain sounded when saying it—it had just been on the edge of breathy, like a whisper.

“Oh, there are many things I think about," Lucien hummed and moved his mate closer to him. Elain squirmed. The hardness pressing against her core told her exactly what her mate was thinking about. Thank the gods it was exactly what she had been thinking about. But still, she wanted to hear him say it. She wanted to know if the always so polite and well-mannered Lucien Vanserra could talk dirty. She had never heard a male talk in that way, only ever read it in books, in Nesta’s books.

"Like what?" she hummed, her hands finding their place on Lucien’s chest, toying with a button and then opening it. Lucien must have discarded of his beautiful jacket at some point before.

The emissary smirked when Elain opened yet another button and then another, tentatively revealing more and more of his golden brown chest and the fine dusting of red hair.

"You really want know? Every little detail I think about when it comes to you?" Lucien purred, kissing his mate’s pointed ear. His damp lips brushed her lobe when he continued and whispered, "Even if those are dirty maybe even quite filthy things?"

Especially those things, Elain thought. Well, no—she had said it out loud which made a whole-hearted laugh leave her mate. His whole body shook, bouncing Elain slightly on his lap but quickly catching her and bringing her close again. His hands slid up her thighs, pushing her dress slightly up and making it pool around her hips. Elain didn’t seem to mind.

"Well, if you are so eager to find out I could just show you."

Elain giggled, her heart beating in her throat. She knew what was about to happen. Her mate would claim her, make her his. From that moment on they would be each other’s. She would fully bare herself to the glorious male whose lap she sat on. Not only physically but also emotionally.

"Show me then, Lord Lucien. I want this. I want you. And I am" —Elain drew in a deep breath, cupped her mate’s face in her hands, looked him deep in the eyes— "yours. Fully and completely yours. And you are mine, Lucien Vanserra.”

That statement, it did something to the Autumn Court male. Some primal power inside of him was unleashed, purely male pride set free. His lips met his mate’s in a hungry, almost ravishing kiss that made both sides gasp.

"Shouldn’t we go upstairs to your room?" Lucien asked, only momentarily breaking the kiss.

"No." Elain kissed her mate again.

“There are still people in the house. They could catch us. It is the family living room."

Elain rolled her hips forward, Lucien hardness forming and impressive bulge in his breeches. He groaned and stopped the kiss to examine his mate.

"Unless that excites you? Does it…turn you on that we could get caught?" He smirked and watched his mate’s cheek turn a deep crimson red.

Lucien then flashed his mate an assuring smile that should tell her that it was completely fine and that he would never judge her for what would excite her. In all honesty, it excited him as well. The smile calmed Elain and she dipped her chin. Her hands moved up to Lucien's shoulder, she once again locked her gaze with his and parted her lips.

“Let’s stay here,” she said, “But I would like to take this slow. Can we go slow?“

“Of course. I want to do it exactly the way you wish,” Lucien whispered. “We can also stop here. I would be perfectly fine with just holding you in my arms tonight and maybe a little bit more kissing.” A sheepish smile appeared on the female’s face and she gave her head a tiny shake. “No, no, I do want to continue, unless you don't want to?” “I do want to continue, Elain, but only if you want the same.” Lucien gave her hip an assuring squeeze, dipped his head and bumped his nose against hers.

“Tell me what you want, Elain. You lead the way, guide me, show me what you want, how you want me.” It was his voice, what he said, the tone of his soft command but also that he was letting her lead that made something tighten in her lower belly. Elain inhaled a deep breath, smiled and climbed off her mate’s lap. For a moment her eyes fell to the not at all small tent in his crotch and—Gods!

A low but whole-hearted laugh drew Elain’s attention back to her mate’s face. Her throat worked on a swallow. “I would like for you—for us to undress first. I would like for us to get to know the other person’s body first before we jump into it.” “Jump into what?” Lucien taunted and stood, straightening up to his full height. He was tall, towering over her, but it did not intimidate her, rather made her feel of safe and protected. “Tell me, Elain. I want to hear it.”

Lucien’s hand that fell to her cheek made heat appear in every fiber of her body. His thumb stroked her cheek, his pupils slowly dilating.

“Before we jump…before we make love.”

Lucien’s smile was nothing but warm and sincere, not teasing or mocking that she had used make love instead of every other word that existed for it. She liked using the words make love, didn’t think them to be cheesy. Because making love was exactly what she had imagined her and Lucien would be doing. The words Nesta sometimes used when she talked about it seemed too crude, too vulgar, for her. Lucien didn’t seem to find make love cheesy as he said, “I cannot wait to make love to you—for us to make love. For me to worship your body, my lady.”

Lucien’s shirt was already fully unbuttoned so all Elain had to do was shove it over his shoulders and bare his broad, toned chest to her. She gasped silently at the stunning male standing in front of her. She had seen the Illyrian warriors —her brother’s in law— train but there bodies were nothing compared to the male standing in front of her.

Lucien was all sculptured, beautiful muscles, yet with still some softer spots that Elain realised she preferred much more over the solely toned abs of the Illyrian warriors. The fine dusting of red hair added an extra bonus that Elain found herself marvelling into. Elain’s eyes then trailed over every inch of exposed skin, starting at Lucien’s big and warm hands she couldn’t wait to feel all over her skin. The way Elain looked at him did something to Lucien, to his heart, to his eyes. He blinked rapidly, focusing back on his mate, on her rose-coloured cheeks, how she bit her lip and how her hands formed fists at the side of her body.

Elain's eyes moved over his strong upper arms, realising that Lucien could probably pick her up with ease and she couldn’t wait for that. When her eyes finally landed on his eyes, no they made a stop at his lips first—those plump, full and soft lips— and then moved to his eyes Lucien was smirking at her, then grinned with brightly glowing eyes.

“Should I retrieve my lady a napkin. It seems she might be drooling?” Lucien drawled and had to laugh.

“Dammit, Lucien!” Elain expressed and smacked a hand over mouth while her eyes went wide. The fiery male chortled and was the one to close the distance between their bodies. He embraced his mate in a hug, pulling her flush to his chest and kissed the top of her head. “I was just teasing you. But you looking at me like that…it does things to me.”

“What things?” Elain laced her face in innocence although Lucien could see the spark of mischief glowing in her eyes. She took her lower lip between her lips when Lucien pulled back from the embrace and took Elain’s hand into his. “You really want to know?” Elain bowed her head and nearly lost balance when Lucien tugged at her wrist. He pulled her hand forward, pressing her palm flush to his groin to show her that—

“That is what it does to me, Elain.”

Elain, voluntarily or not, gave the growing bulge in his pants a tiny squeeze that made Lucien groan deep in his throat—the sound reverberating through Elain and making her toes curl.

His hand tugged at her wrist once again. “We are taking it slowly, my sweet. You remember?”

For a split second Elain regretted making that request but when her gaze once again met Lucien’s she was reminded that it had been the right decision, that she first of all wanted to explore every part of him and then give herself fully to him.

“Yes, slowly,” she whispered.

She decided looking was no longer enough. She wanted to let her hands do the rest of the exploration. Elain’s fingers danced over Lucien’s skin just like they had done earlier with the dough. She brushed over the small scars on his chest, fingers stroking higher, up his neck, his cheek until she let them run over the scar over Lucien’s eye. "You are so beautiful, Lucien. The most beautiful male I have ever seen,” Elain said, her voice breathy and soft like a whisper of leaves in the wind.

Lucien loved her voice, how she said things, how she said his name. He shuddered against her touch, his heart speeding up while his hand took hers into his once again. He brought it to his mouth and kissed her palm.

"May I?" the Autumn Court male asked when his other hand fell to the strap of her dress. Elain blinked once and dipped her chin. She threw her hair over shoulders and craned her neck to give Lucien access to her dress. His callused but slender fingers hooked under the straps and he pulled them over her shoulders, down her arms. The gown became a pool of green around Elain’s feet, the female now standing in front of him in just her dark green, satin undergarment. The dress hadn’t required a bra so Elain hadn’t donned one.

Elain's mate was lost in that moment. Lucien didn’t want to ogle her naked body—her breasts— like that but he found himself unable to look anywhere else. Luciens mouth fell open, his throat working on a swallow.

"Breathtaking, cruel beauty," he said, more to himself but it made Elain grin from one ear to the other. Lucien stepped forward, hands falling to her hips and he pulled her to him. His lips found hers yet again in a longing, passionate kiss.

For Elain the kiss ended way too quickly, but Lucien wasn’t done exploring then. His hands stroked up her sides. A shuddering breath left Elain when she arched into her mate’s touch. Her eyes fell shut the moment Lucien rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. It was that soft feminine moan that slipped through Elain’s lips that was Lucien’s undoing. She quickly bit down on her lip to keep her noises silent. But Lucien wasn’t too fond of that.

His thumb tugged on her lip, freeing it before placing his lips on hers. He did not kiss her then, but he whispered, “Let me hear it. All of it. I want to hear how you feel—how I make you feel.”

Lucien’s hand slid to the back of her head, pressing Elain’s to his while their lips and teeth and tongues connected in a hungry, almost ravishing kiss. Hands clawed at the other’s body, still exploring and trying to bring the other one as close as possible.

“Slower?” Lucien asked breathlessly when he pulled back.

“It is perfect that way,” Elain spoke through already puffy lips, her breath coming out in soft pants. She wrapped the laces of Lucien’s breeches around her fingers, given him an asking look to which Lucien dipped his chin. So Elain pulled, slowly, almost tentatively, opening her mate’s pants. Finally open, they fell to his feet, his already rigid length springing free.

“Oh,” Elain breathed. It was all she could say. She had imagined him to big, but Lucien was…perfect. Beautiful. And hers. This glorious male who stood naked in front of her was hers. Her mate.

“I already told you that you looking at me like that does things to me, Elain.” Lucien’s voice was close to a growl. He brought her close again and kissed her. Elain felt the press of his proud length against her lower belly, the only piece of fabric that hindered them from fully connecting, her undergarments. She wanted to slide them down her legs but her mate stopped her, removing her hands from where they were placed. “No. Please let me do that,” Lucien asked, a sheepish look plastering his face. He looked terribly adorable and in that moment Elain hoped that she had met Lucien when he was a teen. She knew she had fallen for him the moment she had laid eyes on him.

“Do as you wish,” Elain giggled. Lucien didn’t have to be told twice. His lips found the soft skin of her neck, nibbling softly and drawing some soft sighs from his mate’s lips. Lucien’s lips coasted lower, licking over her collar bone, down her cleavage until they closed around her hard nipple. Lucien crouched down, tongue swirling around the pebbled skin of her breasts, teeth softly adding another sort of pleasure that Elain hadn’t known about until then.

Elain’s hand found its place in Lucien’s silken strands, curling them around her fingers, tugging softly and freeing them from the leather strap that held them back. The hands of her mate on the other hand slide around her slim waist to her backside, into her undergarments. He gave her rear a little two-handed squeeze that made Elain squirm, then giggle. Lucien was kneading her butt, his lips and tongue still occupied with her breasts. Elain arched into him, marveling into her mate’s touch and how good he already made her feel. He was all heat and passion, yet it was all soft and gentle, nothing rushed or rough. It was just like how the Archeron sister had imagined it—only ten times better.

Elain nearly came at the sight of her mate kneeling down in front of her, spreading her legs and finally pulling her underwear down her legs. He guided her out of the pool of her dress and the underwear, bringing her closer to his body.

He was kneeling. Right in front of her, naked, the fireplace softly cracking behind his back. The fire casted a soft halo around Lucien and he truly looked like a god in that very moment. A god of passion, of fire, of desire.

Hands danced over her lower legs, over her thighs. Lucien was looking at her sex, smiling to himself at the wetness already gathered there. “Yes?” he asked, once again wanting to have his mate’s consent.

“Yes!” Elain said, her voice trembling. Anticipation bubbled inside of her. It would finally happen and gods! She had no experience in that sort of matter. She had read about it in books and now she wondered if she should have prepared herself in any way? But what way? It was like Lucien could read her mind. He tipped his head back and met her gaze. “You are stunning, Elain Archeron. Now leave your mind and focus on us and this moment.”

With that compliment Lucien placed his lips right above Elain’s knee, his tongue poking out and licking over her sweet skin. The next moments became a blur of heat, fire, passion and lust. Two slender, callused fingers parted her hot flesh, inserting one and then a second finger. Lucien hooked his hand under Elain’s knee pit und lifted her leg over his shoulder, giving him better access.

“I had been waiting for so long to taste you,” he hummed and then did exactly that. Lips first and then his tongue made contact with her core. Lucien did not only taste her, he savoured, devoured and feasted on his mate like he had been starving for centuries. He knew exactly what to do, how to do it. How to swipe his tongue through her sliken folds, how to use his thumb to add extra pleasure from pressing down on the bundle of nerves, teasing and rubbing. What he was doing was more than Elain’s imagination had ever been capable of. She tumbled onto her mate, trying to steady herself with holding onto him. Her knees felt wobbly, she felt weightless, entering a delirious state of ecstasy and pleasure. Elain threw her head back, nails digging into Lucien’s shoulder when she came with a lewd cried that was mix of curses and her mate’s name.

Her knees buckled, threatening to give as Lucien guided her through her height, his mouth still occupied with her sex, softly licking broad strokes and nibbling on her clit, kissing her, one arm curled around her rear. “Oh gods!” Elain exclaimed when she toppled over, following forward but Lucien caught her, his arm wrapping tighter around her rear the other holding her thigh. He leaned backwards, looking up at his fully disheveled mate. Elain’s face was flushed, damp strands of hair curling around it. She had her lips parted, eyes squeezed shut and Lucien knew that he had never seen anything that beautiful, so divine. “Stunning,” he breathed and kissed his mate’s lower belly.

Tumbling slightly, Elain managed to blink her eyes open and look at her mate. Lucien was still looking at her, smiling.

“Perfect. This was perfect,” the Archeron sister mumbled. She lifted one hand from where she was still holding onto her mate and wiped the back of it over her face. Lucien in the mean time licked over his lips and groaned. Only then did Elain realise that his lips were swollen, his face damp with…her arousal, her release.

“I have never….you taste divine, my lady. Like the only thing I need for the rest of my life.”

Lucien tugged at his mate’s wrist while sitting down onto the carpet. Elain understood the silent command, lowering herself to her mate, sitting down on his lap. “I am in love with you, Lucien. I realised it during Summer Solstice that year. And I finally have the courage to tell you,” Elain whispered, her breath tickling Lucien’s lips before she pecked the corner of his mouth.

“Half a year?” Lucien mumbled and kissed his mate’s nose. “I am sorry,” Elain answered, leaning down and nipping on her mate’s neck, savouring the sweaty and slightly salty taste of him.

“Don’t apologise.” Groaning from somewhere deep in his throat Lucien tipped his head back when Elain took the skin of his neck between her teeth, suckling. Her hand travelled between their bodies, moving over her mate’s length, thumb brushing the tip where a bead of liquid had already built up.

“You still have the reigns in your hand, Elain. Guide us, show me how you want me.”

Elain’s heart swelled at that, damp heat once again pooling in her core. She shuddered slightly, lifting her hips and positioning her mate against her tight heat.

Carefully she let herself think down, easing just the tip into her. “Easy,” Lucien drawled and nipped at his mate’s earlobe. Elain exhaled a loud breath, letting herself sink further down on his lenght.

Both parties gasped at this first connection, Elain’s eyes falling shut, Lucien’s eyes rolling back in his head. “Gods, Elain,” he growled, fisting her hips. “You are my end.”

Slowly and carefully Lucien slid fully into her, stretching her walls, filling her so perfectly, his body becoming flush with his mate.

Elain cried out in pleasure, hands sliding around Lucien’s neck, fisting his hair, his head, his skin. She clawed at him, moaning at the delight that overcame her.

Burying himself to the hilt, Lucien leaned into Elain’s ear, taking the lobe between his teeth, tugging. “You are perfect. So tight. So wet. So perfect,” he drawled, moving his hips up, thrusting even deeper into his mate. “I am in love with you as well. I love you, Elain Archeron.”

All restraints gone and their desire fully unleashed they came together, became one, bodies moving in perfect sync just like their lips. It was a mingle of tongues, hands roaming the other’s body, damp skin slapping against damp skin.

There was no talking, there was just love making. Just like Elain had imagined it and maybe twenty times better. Her breasts brushed against Lucien’s chest, her nipples finding stimulation by rubbing against the dusting of hair on his chest. Lucien’s thrusts were slow and deep, making his mate feel every glorious inch of him. Capturing her breast between his lips once again he added a bit of pleasure, bringing his mate closer and closer to the edge. But Elain wasn’t the only getting closer. His stomach flexed, his length twitching inside of Elain, throbbing. But there was this rule, this rule he had made for himself: Elain had to come first. He once again had to bring her her pleasure first. Elain was his priority—always.

Technically, Lucien wanted for Elain to come with him. He angled his hips to hit that one spot inside of Elain with every rut, his hand once again finding her clit and giving her last the push over the edge. Elain’s panting increased, her moans rising a pitch when Lucien felt her clench around him. He cursed lowly, his fingertips digging into the soft flesh of Elain’s hips.

“Look at me. Elain, look at me,” Lucien panted. “I need to see the pretty look on your face when you come.”

With a lewd cry leaving her, Elain’s eyes open, her heavy-lidded gaze meeting her mate’s.

“So perfect. Come for me, Elain. Let go.”

Elain’s climax was overwhelming, rough and hard, crashing into her like a storm, washing over her like tidal waves, sweeping her under, lifting her up, making her feel weightless. Her soul left her body the moment her lips parted with a loud sob of pleasure.

“In me,” Elain brought out through clenched teeth, riding out her height, bouncing on her mate’s hips, him still buried deep inside of her.

Lucien who had needed every restraint in himself to hold back did not have to be told twice and could finally let go, his release spurting against Elain’s walls. Their hips still sloppily grinding against each other, they rode out their heights together. Also their lips once again met in a sloppy kiss that ended way too soon, breathlessness being the reason for it. Air wheezed in out of both their lungs, slowly coming down from their climaxes.

“Gods, you…” Lucien breathed when he slowly helped Elain lift her hips and eased out of her. Elain breathlessly fell forward to her mate’s chest, limbs feeling numb and tingly, her chest heaving rapidly, her body still trembling.

Her lips still parted, Elain pressed her cheek against her mate’s damp chest. “No. Gods, you!”

It took them a good twenty minutes to fully regain their energy and catch their breaths. Elain was the first to pull away, grinning at her mate with a fully toothy grin. “There is one thing we still need to do,” Elain said and climbed of her mate’s lap. She picked up a blanket from the couch, wrapped it around her body when straightening up. For a moment her knees buckled, the slight sting between her thighs making her feel hot and flustered all over again. But she had to do that now. Confusion laced Lucien’s insides when Elain made a turn and headed for the kitchen. There was one last thing that had to be done to fully seal this bond, to make that night —the longest night of the year— even more perfect.

Offer food to her mate!

Elain, only with the blanket wrapped around her, returned to the living room. She grinned at Lucien when she went onto her knees. Sitting back on her heels, Elain opened her hand and reached it forward. “Lord Lucien, do you want to accept the bond with me?”

“Gods, yes!” Lucien said with a full toothy grin. Elain lifted her hand, placing the cookie mere inches from his lips. Lucien’s tongue poked out and he licked the baked good. Something in Elain’s lower belly tightened at that. Memories of what that tongue was capable of and had done earlier, the pleasure it had brought her, flooded her mind. She sucked in a deep breath when she Lucien’s lips closed over the cookie.

Magic zapped between the couple, golden threads stretching out, swirling and connecting their souls. Their breathing came in soft pants when their faces started to glow, grins filling their faces. It was warm and it passion. It was fire and heat. Joy and happiness. It was perfection. Perfection in that very moment with just the two of them. Souls that had been yearning for each other finally connected, finally one.

Elain had found her equal. Lucien had found his.

The emissary tugged Elain to his chest when the lay down on the couch later, a blanket draped over their bodies.

“This was the best Solstice in my whole entire life,” Lucien whispered and kissed the top of Elain's head.

“It truly was,” Elain quipped and tipped her head back to look at her mate. “I love you, Lord Lucien.” “And I love you, Lady Elain. Until the very last day of our immortal life.”

........................................

Dear @iambutmortal 💛

I wish you the most wonderful Christmas. It was a true delight to be your Secret Santa. I loved and enjoyed reading your answers so much. You think about so many things the same way I do which was so lovely to see. I felt so lucky and happy when I saw that I got paired with you!!💛

I really hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I wish you all the best for the holidays and for the start of the New Year.~lots of love, your Secret Santa (aka fieldofdaisies haha) 🤶🏻🤍❄️

#elucien #elain x lucien #secret santa #secret santa present #elucien supremacy #acotar secret santa #acotar secret santa 2022

103 notes · View notes

demarogue · 1 year

Text

ACOTAR Secret Santa – REVEALED!

Happy Holidays, @azrielslight! It has been so fun getting to know you for the @acotargiftexchange this year.

To be honest, I meant for your gift to be that artwork of Elriel in the HP AU, but I wasn’t quite able to finish it in time due to unforeseen circumstances. I still intend to finish it! I just want it to be perfect. Gimme a couple more days <3

In the meantime, here is the first chapter of a canon-universe Elriel fic that I hope will scratch your specific itches ;)

all of me belongs to you (read on AO3) An Elriel Solstice Story of Choices, Forgiveness and First Times For Azrielslight, by Dema Summary: A year after Azriel and Elain’s interrupted kiss, the Shadowsinger is still consumed by what might have been. But he is able to push his feelings to the wings, until he overhears the sisters discussing Elain’s love life. Notes: angsty as all heck because it’s Azriel’s POV, but there will be a soft ending, I promise.

Chapter 1 – Choice

Objectively speaking, Velaris was beautiful at Solstice time. Azriel knew this, even if he didn’t feel it.

The Shadowsinger stood in the swirling snow, siphons glinting like the many candles adorning every window and the faelights that dripped from the eaves. It was an effect not so distant from Starfall in the spring, if the air weren’t brittle with cold…but the weather suited him, he thought, as he wandered those midnight streets. One year ago, nearly to the day, he’d walked this same circuit around the Palace of Thread and Jewels, a gift he’d purchased there burning a hole in his pocket as he’d wrestled with his own will. In the end he’d mustered the courage to present that gift to its intended – and in so doing, royally embarrass himself, and her, and doom his chances forever.

Like the colossal, unprecedented fuckup he was.

This was a mistake.

The intervening months had provided ample time to ruminate on his failure, starting with those words. That he had exposed them to Rhys’ censure was bad enough – that he had lost his senses in that hallway, in the middle of the townhouse, like some idiot boy with a first crush – that he’d let them be caught! The Spymaster of the Night Court, caught practically with his pants down and his hands on that skin he had no right to touch…all of that was terrible. But the words were what haunted him. In his nightmares, he relived the way they’d turned her cheeks so red, and pitched the honey-sweet scent of her want into shame.

It was no good explaining; there was no excuse. There was no way to undo the pain he’d caused. The best he could do was vanish from her sight, fade into shadows unnoticed, and render himself unable to cause more harm.

But the worst part was, try as he might, he still could not stay away.

And even when away, her presence lingered.

He found his feet leading him back to the river house before he was conscious of the direction he had taken, shadows tugging him forever toward her, as if caught in her gravity. And even though he knew he shouldn’t –– even though he knew he tortured himself, and tested Rhys’s patience with these small acts of defiance –– he was stepping from darkness a moment later, into some corner of his Lord and Lady’s hall. Elain was there, of course, the muted echo of her voice chasing his shadows into the wings even as it had summoned him to her.

They were in Feyre’s study, and he was outside of it, a slash of light from the cracked-open door falling across his cheek. He could see brief flashes of activity from this vantage point: Elain, seated on the couch by the hearth and cradling Nyx in her arms as he slept, and Feyre crossing the room to her, carrying a mug of something warm and spiced and festively alcoholic. Elain accepted the cup, even as she rolled her eyes at something Feyre had just said.

“You know I’m right,” the High Lady continued, passing out of Azriel’s view so that the crack framed Elain’s face, her hand, a dangling baby’s leg.

“I am not like Nesta, Feyre.”

“No, but a distraction might do you good, just the same.”

Azriel felt his blood turn to ice.

If he were in his right mind (which he never was, where she was concerned) he might have admitted this was inevitable. He’d eavesdropped often enough that he was bound to overhear something he didn’t want to know, and should have let that knowledge correct this unscrupulous behavior before it drove him mad. But this glimpse of her beauty, lit just-so by the glow of the fire…what male would not linger, as he did? Who could possess such strength?

“Can we talk about something else?” A shade of impatience had entered her voice – the kind he recognized in himself, at times, when revisiting old arguments with his brothers. ”Anything else?”

“All I’m saying, dear sister, is that it can be difficult to move on from someone when they represent the entirety of your romantic experience.”

Elain sighed, averted her eyes, avoided a response by taking long sips from the steaming mug. Azriel swallowed against the answering burn in his throat, willing himself to walk away, screaming at himself that what he was doing was wrong, and yet finding himself utterly transfixed – pinned in place like a moth to felt. There was a roaring in his ears that nearly drowned out the rest of Feyre’s words. He heard Graysen’s name, her tone edging between teasing and pitying, and then:

“He wouldn’t judge you, you know. This bond –”

The bond.

Azriel sucked in a breath through his teeth, no more than the barest hiss of air, and yet Elain’s eyes somehow found him, spearing through that crack as if she could See through walls, through darkness, through him. He did not have time to decipher her expression, did not know if it was surprise, or embarrassment, or horror, or anger, or some other, worse emotion she’d invented on the spot, something fitting for his impropriety, his utter shamelessness. He was moving before he could do or say something stupid, folding himself into shadow and emerging in the garden, where the cold air struck him like a slap. He staggered forward, gulping freezing breaths that felt little better than drowning.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why couldn’t he just stay away? Such a simple order, this command to inaction, but he was powerless to obey it, compelled to break it, as if he were driven by some sickness–

“Azriel…”

Her voice seemed to mute every other sound.

The snow was falling; soft, fat flakes that collected on his shoulders, on her hair, in drifts along the cobbled path. The music floating up from the Sidra shops trailed off into nothing. Branches creaking with wind went still.

It had been months since they were this close. Longer, since the last time they were alone.

He turned to her, eyes sharp with pain. Shadows flowed around her, then dissipated beneath the accusation in his stare, skittering off guiltily to wherever they conspired against him. He should have known they served her now, perhaps even more surely than they served him. Thinking of her so often had remade them in her image.

“Azriel,” she tried again, soft as the falling snow, so gently that he nearly fell at her feet, nearly ran howling into the night. He could not let her finish.

“Feyre has a point,” he bit out, hating himself for the way it made her pause and clench her skirts. “If Graysen is all you’ve known, you’d be better served picking…someone else, someone simpler before–”

“Azriel,” she warned, taking a step toward him. He halted her with a hand half-raised, his body turned obliquely, as if exposing his chest to her would invite an arrow to his heart. His voice was choked with undirected rage.

“If you think you owe him something, if you’re waiting for–”

“I’m waiting for you!” She cried out, a fist clenched against her breast.

Azriel looked like he’d been struck.

The edges of his vision darkened as she approached, so silently she might have been imagined. The Mother knew he’d imagined her often enough to conjure her here, dreaming and waking; fantasized about sweeping her up into his arms, and cradling her face, and drinking the breath from her lips. When she stopped, she was near enough that he could have reached out and touched her, if he dared. But he didn’t. Light from the river house edged her form in gilt, so much like that night one year before that he was nearly dizzy with the memory.

“I’m waiting for you,” she repeated, hushed.

“You shouldn’t,” he whispered. Her brown eyes were so warm, staring into them chased the chill from his face. He couldn’t look away, even knowing he did not deserve it. “I hurt you.”

“You made a mistake.” The way she said it…did she know? “I am not so weak that a single mistake of yours can break my heart forever, Azriel.”

He shook his head, searching her face for the rejection he had earned, searching himself for some shred of worthiness that could explain this moment. Finding neither.

“You know I’ve been forbidden to–” he trailed off, the words catching in his throat. His hands were shaking, but not from cold. Elain seized them suddenly, pressing them over her heart, the movement drawing them so close that the white fog of their breath mingled between them. He closed his eyes a moment, overcome by the radiating heat of her, the steady drum of her heartbeat beneath his fingers, the sound of her breathing, her scent winding its way through his body like a spell. Like a bargain he made with his soul, if not his words.

Cauldron drown him, he would have given anything to have her. Would choose her over his court, his brother, his life, if called to do it. How could Rhys shackle him with this test he was destined to fail?

“He cannot forbid you,” Elain breathed into that silence, ducking her head to catch his gaze, “It is not his choice to make. It is mine.” Her voice was soft as ever, belying the steel beneath her words, the utter conviction that anchored him through the storm of his thoughts. “And yours.”

Azriel could not speak. The ice and fire and desperation in his blood had stilled, just like the world stilled when she spoke his name.

Choice.

They had a say, in all of this. Somewhere, amidst the caprice of the Cauldron and the commandments of the High Lord, the meddling of their friends and the tightrope of inter-court politics, there remained a path for them, if they so chose. Fate, it seemed, did not have them in her vise.

And Elain – Elain could See it.

She shifted to her toes, and pressed a lingering kiss upon his cheek; a chaste, human gesture, but the warmth of her lips burned him like a brand. Then she withdrew a step, releasing his hands with a final brush of her fingers.

“I have made my choice. Come back to me, when you make yours.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You can also find the fic on AO3.

And here’s the Elriel playlist I use when I write them. As a treat <3

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2Eos4qJXFr693ac5qa2yOk?si=64e8b97d2fc84632

#acotar gift exchange #acotar secret santa 2022 #acotar #elriel #acotar fanfiction #elriel fanfiction #my writing

66 notes · View notes

iambutmortal · 1 year

Text

Into Daylight

Summary: Everyone knows what happens when a man can’t pay their debts: the Duke comes to take a child. And Elain knows it’s only a matter of time until he comes for her. But there’s something else lurking in Duke Vanserra’s manor and she’s more wrapped up in it than she could ever imagine.

Pairing: Elucien

Word Count: 17k

Content Warning: None

Read on AO3

For @azrielshadowssing Merry Christmas! I loved getting to write this so I hope you enjoy it and I managed to live up to my promise of sexy Eris. And thanks to everyone at @acotargiftexchange for putting on such a great event.

Elain’s sisters were whispering again. She forced her breathing to stay even, kept her eyes closed. Crammed between the two of them on the bed they all shared, she hoped it looked like she was still asleep.

Based on the steady stream of murmuring above her, they hadn’t noticed she’d woken.

“We’re running out of time,” came Feyre’s nervous hiss.

“He’s not going to take her,” was Nesta’s response, her tone firm. “I don’t care what father does, I’m not letting her go with the Duke.”

Elain felt like she’d been doused in ice water as it dawned on her half awake brain what her sisters meant.

Duke Vanserra was coming to collect what he was owed.

Elain had always known she lived in the worst of the five duchies, the furthest North in a kingdom that never seemed to fully escape the cold of winter. Even in the midst of summer it was never truly warm, spring bleeding straight into autumn, the sun never fully heating the earth to let growth fully bloom.

Nothing grew there, people eking out meager existences by working for one of the merchants in their mansions, riches fueled by the one redeeming quality of Thornfield: it’s port.

Elain’s family had once been among them. She could remember running through halls lined with portraits, satin slippers slapping against floors of marble. All that was gone, taken so swiftly Elain was half convinced it had all been a dream, a childhood fantasy to distract herself from the thin cabin walls that never quite kept out the chill or damp, the tough meat Feyre brought back after hunting.

This was her reality, trapped between the too-thin bodies of her sisters while they tried to figure out how to deal with the seemingly never ending debt her father had accrued.

It was the truth none of them wanted to acknowledge. The money, what little their father had managed to save, was running out, and fast if their ever more threadbare clothes were any indication.

Not that Feyre or Nesta would ever tell her that. Better to keep naive, sweet Elain in the dark, let her stay in her pretty daydreams.

But Elain knew.

Heard Greyson’s threats ringing in her ears, what he’d told her when she turned down his offer of marriage.

You know what the Duke does when a man can’t pay his debts.

Despite herself, Elain shivered. She did know what happened. How footmen showed up on doorsteps in the middle of the night, whisking away a child to pay off whatever the Duke thought he was owed.

He always took the loveliest, and everyone in the village knew when the time came it would be Elain the Duke wanted.

“Nesta,” came Feyre’s response, shaking Elain out of her thoughts. “We need another option.”

Elain huffed a breath and rolled over on the bed. On either side of her, Nesta and Feyre stilled. She didn’t want to hear their plan, what they’d be willing to risk to keep her safe. Let them plot while she was out in the garden, trying in vain to grow something in the hard ground.

“We’ll talk about it in the morning,” Nesta sighed, sounding defeated.

A cold hand - Nesta’s - stroked through her hair, playing with the gentle curls.

“She’s not ending up like the others,” Feyre said fiercely. Elain could almost picture it, the way Feyre’s blue eyes glowed with defiance in the dark.

Elain swallowed down the lump of fear rising in her throat. Rumors swirled around the Kingdom of girls going missing, bodies drained of blood showing up around the various palaces inhabited by King Beron and his five sons.

Another stroke of Nesta’s hand on her hair. “We won’t let them.”

It was dark when the knocking started. Their father looked up at the door from his stoop by the fire, fear and guilt written plain across his face.

“What did you do?” Nesta snarled, even as she stood, throwing the book she’d been reading down on the seat below her.

“They were going to kill me,” their father pleaded, eyes darting around the room, looking everywhere but at Elain.

She put down the shirt she’s been mending, sewing yet another patch into the fabric that was more scraps than original shirt at this point.

Another round of furious pounding rang through the cabin, the flimsy wooden door rattling in its frame.

Feyre joined Nesta on her feet, clutching the arrow she’d been making tight in her hand. As if it would be able to do anything against the Duke’s soldiers.

Elain’s two sisters glanced at each other before Nesta stepped forward to open the door, Feyre following behind her like a shadow.

The footman was more bear than man. Tall, broad shouldered, his dark hair hanging down to his collar. His lips curled in disgust as he took in the hovel they called home.

Elain had never seen her father look more fearful as he took in the auburn uniform of a Duke’s servant, come to collect what he owed.

“He said he wouldn’t send you,” came his horse rasp. “That she’d be safe.”

The footman scoffed. “The Duke doesn’t like to be defined. Although,” he gave the cabin another glance, “I doubt you ended up here because of good decisions.”

“I’ll do anything,” Elain’s father begged, rising on shaky legs, his bad knee nearly collapsing underneath him. Elain flinched at the sight, remembering the horrible cracking sound from when the debtors had broken it while her and Nesta cowered in the bedroom “Just don’t take my daughter.”

“You have the money then?” Was the footman’s only reply. He hadn’t moved from the entrance, had the audacity to look bored, as if he stole children from their families every night. He probably did.

“Not Elain,” came her father’s pitiful whine. “One of my other two daughters would do much better, will work much harder for the Duke. He’d be more happy with them.”

Nesta and Feyre’s faces bore matching expressions of disgust, but neither of them contradicted him. They didn’t think she’d be able to survive whatever horrors waited for her in the Duke’s mansion. Elain wasn’t sure she disagreed.

“I’m under strict orders, the Duke wants the prettiest one.”

Nesta took a step towards the footman, putting herself between him and Elain. “Take me. The Duke will never know.”

The footman’s hand ran along the hilt of the dagger sheaved in his belt. “I was told to take Elain Archeron by whatever means necessary. Don’t make my job more difficult than it needs to be.”

Elain knew Nesta was prepared to fight, to kick and scream and claw until she couldn’t anymore. Feyre too, if the white knuckles around her arrow were any indication.

But Elain couldn’t do it, couldn’t see her sisters hurt on her behalf.

She rose to her feet. “I’ll go.” She hated the way her voice trembled.

“No,” Nesta cried, the sound ripped from her throat.

Elain couldn’t look at her, directed her gaze towards the footman. “It’s only until the debt is repaid?”

“Not a night longer,” he confirmed, face softening for the first time that night. Elain thought she might have detected pity behind those cruel brown eyes, even as he took a step towards her, offering a hand.

Elain took it, letting him pull her towards the front door.

“Wait,” Feyre begged, “let us say goodbye.”

The footman sighed, but dropped her hand. “You have a minute, we’re already behind schedule.” He glared, making it clear he blamed them for the delay but Elain doubted she’d have been granted more time even if she had gone willingly.

Feyre threw her arms around Elain’s neck, pulling her close. “We’ll figure out how to save you,” she whispered in her ear. “I’ll pay off the debt.”

Elain didn’t ask how, knew it was impossible when Feyre’s hunting was barely enough to feed them as it was, much less make any extra money.

Feyre stepped back, letting Nesta take her spot. Elain clung to Nesta’s rigid body and willed herself not to cry. Not where Nesta could see and might decide it wasn’t too late to kill the footman and flee with Elain.

“That’s enough,” the footman interrupted.

Elain detangled herself from Nesta’s grasp, and let herself be pulled out of the cabin.

She thought she heard her father call her name behind her, but the door was slammed shut before she could turn around and check.

The carriage before her was so grand it nearly took her breath away. Elain had thought she’d grown up in splendor, that their own coach pulled by four matching snow white horses had been the height of luxury. She was wrong.

No less than six chestnut stallions stomped and kicked at the snowy ground in front of her, attached to a gilded carriage large enough to fit at least eight. Ornate gold coated the outside, swirling patterns depicting wolves and birds licked in flames. Large glass windows exposed the red velvet covering the inside, curtains hanging behind that could be lowered to give privacy.

A coachman, wearing the same auburn suit as the footman, gave them a nod of acknowledgement as they approached.

The footman swung open the door, holding out an arm to help her climb inside. He followed, sitting opposite Elain on the softly cautioned seats, and with two taps on the roof, they set off.

Elain refused to let herself look back, to see if any of her family were waving her off. A single tear slid down her cheek, dropping down onto the brown cotton dress she wore.

“It won’t be that bad, ma’am,” the footman said. He sounded gentler than in the cabin, his face earnest.

His pity only made Elain feel worse, her stomach turning over itself. A few more tears slid down her face, even as her throat ached with the effort to keep from sobbing.

The footman shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “My name’s Jurian,” he offered. Elain just stared at him with watery eyes.

Jurian reached into his breast pocket, pulling out a handkerchief and handing it to her. “I swear the Duke’s not as bad as whatever you’ve heard about him.”

Elain very much doubted him. King Beron once had seven sons, but two had been murdered in cold blood before they came to age, leaving only five brothers, one to inherit each of the five duchies. Elain didn’t want to know what the Duke had done to make sure he survived, but she very much doubted it was anything less than the cold, calculated cruelty she’d heard of.

“Why should I trust you?” Elain sniffed, dabbing at her eyes with the offered fabric.

Jurian pointed out the window. “I grew up about a mile from here, in a cottage similar to yours. My mother still lives there, doing whatever washing people throw her way.”

“How did the Duke get you?” Elain asked, peering at the large man before her. She couldn’t imagine him as a small child, ripped away from his mother due to someone else’s failures.

Jurian gave her a small smile. “My own stupidity, unfortunately. Came on some hard times after my fiancée left me, found too much pleasure in the bottle.” He shrugged. “Nothing to be done about it now. Besides,” Jurian leaned forward, like he was letting her in on a secret, “it’s the best job I’ve ever had. Better for working for one of those stuck up merchants at least.”

Elain snorted. She wasn’t sure she believed him, but if nothing else he’d succeeded in making the tears stop falling.

The rest of the ride passed in silence, Elain peering out the window as the dark forms of trees passed by in a blur. Anticipation formed a knot in her stomach as the trees grew more sparse, the bouncing of the carriage on the dirt road dampening as they switched to more well trodden paths.

Gradually, the Duke’s palace came into sight. Even buried in snow, the manor was breathtaking. Red brick walls, no doubt thick enough to keep out the chills, and a steeply sloping roof of white shilling gave the house a homely feel, at odds with its behemoth size, enough to take up the whole width of the window pane.

They approached from the back, up a path surrounded by carefully manicured gardens. How they’d managed to get anything to grow was a mystery to Elain, but sculpted bushes stood along the road, lightly dusted with snow.

“We’re here,” Jurian confirmed. The carriage ground to a halt, Jurian resting his hand on the lever.

Elain felt more tears well up in her eyes.

“Listen,” Jurian said. “I promise it won’t be horrible, but if you ever fall into trouble, come to me.”

“But why—“ Elain asked. She didn’t know how to finish the sentence without it being rude. Why would you help me? What could you even do against a Duke?

Jurian smiled at her, finally opening the door. “Us humans have to stick together, don’t we?”

Elain didn’t have time to ponder what he meant by that before he was hopping out onto the ground and offering a hand to help her down.

“Come,” Jurian ordered, voice once again gruff as he reentered the house of his master.

He led her towards a small side door, far, far away from the ornate glass ones that led to the main part of the house.

The servant’s hall was dark and narrow, although blessedly warm. Small candles provided just enough light for Elain to see the rough stone floor beneath her feet and keep from tripping. Even at the late hour, workers bustled around them, carrying trays and clothes and hairbrushes. All the things Elain used to have brought up to her as a child, when she had people to boss around.

Jurian led her down past the kitchen, past the laundry room, to a room filled with a half dozen bronze tubs.

A servant girl was waiting for them, her brown hair pulled back from her face in a simple plait, showing off the softly rounded cheeks flushed slightly against her dark skin, full lips pursed in a scowl.

“Took you long enough,” she snapped, roughly gripping Elain around the wrist.

“Sorry to take you away from your busy schedule of cleaning the baseboards for the fifth time this week, Kaisia,” Jurian shot back.

“If you have a problem with my job, take it up with Vassa,” Kaisia snapped, dragging Elain over to one of the tubs. It was half full of water, soap bubbles floating on the top.

“Always pleasant talking to you,” Jurian muttered. Elain heard the door shut, leaving her alone with this surly woman.

“I—“

“Do you need help to get undressed? Or are you capable of doing that yourself?”

Elain shook her head, even as she felt her face heat. Her and her sisters bathed in the same room, one after another on the rare occasion they had enough time and energy to fill the tub, but stripping down in front of a stranger was wholly different.

“Then get on with it.” Kaisia crossed her arms over her chest. “The Duke demands we bathe weekly, so there’s no sense in trying to keep your modesty.”

“Sorry,” Elain stammered, reaching up with trembling hands to pull her dress off.

If possible, Kaisia’s scowl deepened. “Your clothes are disgusting.”

“We don’t have enough money for new ones,” Elain defended.

Kaisia just nudged the pile of fabric on the floor with her toe. “It’ll have to be burned, the Duke doesn’t want to keep anything too dirty around.” She directed her attention on Elain. “Get in the tub.”

“Sorry,” Elain repeated, stepping in quickly.

The water was lukewarm, too cold against her skin, but Elain forced herself not to cry out, couldn’t deal with any more of Kaisia’s scorn.

The woman handed her a scrub brush and Elain made quick work of cleaning herself, wrinkling her nose at the layers of dirt that came off, turning the water a light shade of grey.

Elain had to suppress a yawn, the late hour finally getting to her.

“Did they make you stay up to help me?” Elain asked, feeling guilty for the first time. She doubted most of the Duke’s servants got enough sleep if the crowded hallways were any indication, and she didn’t want to rob Kaisia of any of the free time she did get. It wasn’t her fault she was stuck here.

Kaisia shook her head. “We keep nocturnal hours. You’ll get used to it.”

Elain shuddered, the water rippling around her. She hated the night, the way the dark and cold always crept in, tried to sit as close to the fire as she could as soon as the sun set.

Kaisia peered into the water. “I don’t think you’ll get any cleaner than you are with how flirty the bath is. Up.”

Any guilt Elain felt immediately disappeared. She doubted Kaisia was any better when she first came here, had probably made the bath water even darker.

Kaisia tossed a towel at Elain as soon as she stood up, and she barely managed to catch it before it fell into the water. Elain wrapped it around herself, couldn’t help but sink into the fluffy fabric, the warmth it offered.

Elain stepped out of the tub, and took the white dress Kaisia offered. It matched the one she wore, the design plain but the fabric finer than anything Elain had worn since she was a child. She slipped it on, and then took the auburn cloak Kaisia held, the color matching Jurian’s uniform.

“Walk,” Kaisia ordered, heading to the door. Elain followed mutely, slipping on the soft leather shoes waiting by the exit before entering back into the dark hallway.

This time, no one stared at Elain as she walked through the servants quarters, the new dress and clothes marking her undeniably as someone who belonged among them. They headed deeper into the house, further down into the dark basement, past rows and rows of identical looking wooden doors.

Kaisia stopped in front of one near the end of the impossibly long hallway.

“Ours,” she said, pulling out two silver keys. She handed one to Elain, using the other to unlock the door. “The room for those who’ve arrived in the last month.”

The room was cramped, but bigger than the one room Elain shared with her three sisters. Five beds and dressers stood around the room, four already clearly occupied, the bed covers slightly askew and a few personal belongings strewn atop the dressers.

Elain sat down on the only undisturbed bed, the one closest to the door.

“Duke always wants us to give the new people a night to settle in,” Kaisia said, leaning against the doorway. “I assume you’ll be fine?”

Elain nodded. “Don’t let me keep you from your work.”

“Be ready by sundown tomorrow to start,” Kaisia ordered.

Elain squared her shoulders as she stood in the line of identically dressed women, all in white with their hair pulled back in low buns.

“There’s always more women than men,” Kaisia hissed from in front of her, “so we always get stuck with the worst jobs.”

Elain nodded, desperately trying to keep her bottom lip from trembling. She could imagine all sorts of horrible tasks, from scrubbing the privy to washing the horse stalls.

Privately, so privately she didn’t dare whisper it out loud, she prayed to whatever gods were left that she’d be assigned to the gardens, that she might be permitted to work during the day.

The line was quickly shortening, taking Elain closer and closer to her taskmistress. Vassa, the girls had warned her, was a cruel headmistress, but a fair one, would reassign better tasks to whoever worked hardest.

In front of her, Kaisia got sent to hang laundry with a sigh of relief, and then it was Elain in front of the pretty redhead.

The woman, probably only a few years older than Elain, if that, cast a discerning blue eye over her.

“So you’re the pretty one then?”

Elain stared at her mutely, unsure of how she should answer.

“Not very smart though,” Vassa muttered, before turning around and thrusting a silver tray in Elain’s hands. “Take this up to the master then.”

“I don’t know where—“

“Next,” Vassa called, forcing Elain out of line.

“That’s the worst job,” Kaisia said, sounding sympathetically. “No one wants to spend too much time around the Duke.”

“Where do I take this?” Elain asked desperately. From all that she’d heard about the Lord, she doubted he’d take well to having his breakfast late.

“There’s two cups,” Kaisia muttered. “Fuck. One of the Duke’s brothers is here.”

Elain paled. She’d been prepared to see the Duke, knew running into him at some point during her stay was unavoidable. But serving him and his brother—

“Go up the stairs, take the first left, up another set, and then the Duke’s study is the first door on the right,” Kaisia said. “Just keep your eyes down and don’t speak unless spoken to.”

Elain wanted to ask her to wait, ask if they could switch jobs, but Kaisia turned down the hallway that led to the laundry room as Elain’s feet continued to carry her towards the main part of the house.

If asked, Elain would never be able to say how she made it in front of the study, swung the large cherry door open, and stepped inside without dropping the tray and fleeing, but she did, eyes glued to her feet as she shuffled inside.

“All I’m asking is that you pretend to take this seriously,” came a male voice. It seemed to drip arrogance, the words cut with an intangible sense of cruelty.

“As much as I delight in the knowledge something I do bothers you, I have no plans to change things,” came the response, this voice lower, a rumble that Elain felt in her belly.

Elain dared look up enough to see where to set the tray, and saw the two red headed males sitting on opposite sides of an immense desk.

Both were unfairly attractive, matching high cheekbones and sculpted jaws, even as Elain felt her gaze pulled towards the one further from her. His eyes, one russet, the other made of golden metal, were trained on the man across from him, no doubt his brother. Deep, gouged scars ran from his eyebrow down to his cheek on the left side, the same as that golden eye. His hair fell down to his shoulders, a contrast to the close cut of the other.

The Duke. Elain had heard the stories of how he’d lost the eye, mouthing off to one of the Queens from across the sea, how she’d ripped it out with her nails as the King watched on. A lesson for his arrogance.

And even with the scaring, he had to be the most beautiful man Elain had ever seen.

“I’m taking time out of my life to deal with this,” hissed the man closer to her.

“You think I wanted this?” the Duke asked, pointing at the exposed skin of his hand.

Elain squinted, nothing for the first time that the Duke’s skin was several shades darker than that of his brother.

Probably a bastard. No wonder he got stuck with the shittiest of the five duchies.

Elain took a step closer, clearing her throat softly. She doubted either of the King’s sons would take well to her eavesdropping, only hoped she wouldn’t be punished too severely for what she’d already heard.

“What am I going to do when I have a family? It’s bad enough Callum begged off next month because he knocked up his wife again,” the Duke’s brother continued as if he hadn’t heard.

“Ah yes,” the Duke sighed, “Callum, always living up to our father’s expectations. Although your argument falls flat when I never see you pursuing any of the women who follow you around.”

“Sir—“ Elain said, voice just above a whisper.

That caught the brother’s attention, both sitting straight up in their seats and turning to look at her.

“Didn’t they teach you not to interrupt?” sneered the paler of the brothers, Eris, if Elain’s hazy memory of the royal portraits was anything to go off of.

“I can come back,” Elain says, face burning.

The Duke waved his hand over the desk. “Just set it here.”

Elain nodded, eyes glued to the floor as she stepped between the men.

“They always send the new ones up,” the Duke said, speaking over her. “I think Vassa likes to taunt me with my bad decisions.”

If possible, Elain felt her face grow warmer, the shame burning brighter. She wanted nothing more than to sink into the floor, disappear from the Duke’s gaze.

“Like Vassa doesn’t have her own bad decisions to contend with,” Eris jeered.

Elain tried to set the tray down as gently as possible, lest the teacups rattle and draw any more attention to her poor job.

“What’s your name?” asked the Duke, as she took a step back.

“Elain Archeron, your grace.”

The Duke nodded. “In the future, Elain, please knock before entering.”

“Sorry, sir,” Elain said, curtsying low even as her stomach twisted into knots at the way the Duke said her name.

She cursed herself internally. As a child she’d had a ridiculous fantasy that she’d marry into the royal family, become a princess. It was just that, a childish dream, but her stomach apparently hadn’t fully caught up.

“You’re dismissed,” the Duke said, turning back to his brother.

Elain gave another bobbed curtsy before darting for the exit, walking as quickly as she could without running.

“Awful good curtsy for a peasant,” Eris said, just before Elain shut the door.

Elain fell into something close to a rhythm over the few days, dropping off the Duke’s breakfast tray before returning to Vassa to be sent off to clean something in the already spotless manor. She barely had time to eat the dinner given to all the servants, something simple albeit filling, before collapsing into bed.

She was kept so busy she didn’t have time to worry about her sisters, wonder how they were doing with just the two of them. Feyre and Nesta had always been too independent to spend much time alone together, both too stubborn to concede anything. Elain had always acted as a mediator between them, and she hoped they were getting along if only for her sake.

But sometimes, just when she was hovering on the line between being awake and asleep, she would think about the Duke. Eris was often with him in the mornings, sitting on the opposite side of the office, the tension in the room palpable. After that first day, neither spoke to her, but Lucien gave her a small smile of acknowledgement before returning to whatever paperwork he was dealing with. And if her stomach felt a little funny every time, then who could blame her. He was unfairly handsome.

As the end of her first week approached, everyone seemed to be nervous, the hallways teeming with pent up energy.

On the seventh night, there was no tray. The servants stood in the hallway in small clumps, tension seeming to radiate from them. Even Kaisia seemed to be affected, strands of dark hair escaping from her usually neat braid. They’d all been told to report early, the last of the sun’s rays just barely shining over the horizon. Elain plastered herself to the window, hoping to soak up as much as she could.

Vassa strode in and everything went dead silent.

“It’s your day off,” she announced. “Do what you wish.”

Kaisia’s hand was around Elain’s before she could fully process the words, pulling her away.

“Where are we going?” Elain asked, utterly baffled. She was sure even if Kaisia did have something planned for the evening, it wouldn’t include Elain. They hardly knew each other, and Kaisia always seemed mildly annoyed at having to talk to her.

Kaisia flung open their bedroom door and shoved Elain inside.

“Don’t leave,” she ordered, before slipping back out.

Elain stared at the door. This whole thing was weird. She’d never seen Kaisia look even slightly shaken but here she was, acting genuinely terrified. But if this was really her night off, she could sleep now, and spend the next morning outside, see the sun for the first time.

Kaisia returned to the room with the other three girls. They looked just as confused as Elain felt.

“Kaisia, what are we doing,” Dacia, one of their dorm mates, asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Have you been here on the nights off before?” Kaisia demanded.

Dacia shook her head. “No. But neither have you.”

“Well I’ve lived in the castle,” Kaisia said, slamming the door. The click of the lock seemed to reverberate through the room. “You don’t want to be out there.”

Elain sat down hard on her bed. “For how long?”

“Until the sun’s up,” Kaisia replied, plopping down on her own.

“This is stupid,” snapped Marcie, heading to the door. “I have things I want to do on my night off.”

Her hand hit the doorknob when they heard the first snarl.

The sound was unlike anything Elain had heard before, something deeper, more aggressive than any of the dogs who occasionally got into fights near the village.

Marcie backed up, face paling. “What was that?”

“The reason you don’t want to go out,” Kaisia answered.

A scream echoed through the manor. Elain’s hair stood on end. The nose was masculine, the cry one of pure pain.

Marcie leaped onto her bed, pulling the covers up over her.

Around the room, the girls followed her example, even Kaisia. Elain swallowed down a hysterical giggle at the sight. They were nothing better than little girls, hoping the monsters wouldn’t be able to get them while they stayed beneath the blankets.

The snarls and barks continued overhead, although mercifully there were no more screams.

“Is this what it’s like every month?” Dacia asked, her voice small.

“Yes. And in the castle,” Kaisia answered. “The King would make us lock all our doors, stay in bed. Everyone who left was killed.”

Elain shivered.

“So new girl,” Yevah, the one of them who’d been there the longest, said when there was a break in the noise. “How did you end up here?”

Elain raised her head from where she’d buried it in her knees. She knew what she was doing, and was grateful for any attempt at distraction. “My father’s ships sank and he couldn’t pay off the debts he’d taken on to send them off.”

Kaisia snorted. “Of course it’s not his fault.”

“What does that mean?” Elain demanded.

Kaisia rolled her eyes. “It’s never their fault you’re here, always something out of their control. It’s because the ships sank, not because he took on more debt then he could ever dream to pay off.”

“Fine,” Elain said, feeling her heckles raise. What did Kaisia know of her father. “Then how did the Duke get you?”

“My brother sold me. Liked gambling more than he did winning and used me to clear his debts.” Kaisia gave a bitter laugh. “I’ll be here until I die.”

“Oh,” Elain said, feeling stupid.

A shout ripped through the room, the words too muffled to be made out, but even Elain could recognize the cruel tone of Eris.

Kaisia flinched, pulling the covers up to her chin, a dazed look on her face. Elain wanted to offer some consoling words, do something but there was nothing. Besides, she doubted Kaisia wanted to hear anything from her.

Elain flopped down on the bed, rolling over so her back faced the door. She pulled her pillow up over her head, desperate to block out the sound, the growls, but it was impossible.

Exhaustion must have overtaken her eventually, because Elain woke up hours later, her face pressed against the pillow. She bolted upright, glancing at the window to check she wasn’t too late. She threw on one of her clean uniforms and darted out of the room, racing down the servant’s hall.

If she could just make it…

Elain threw open the door that led out to the garden, eager to feel the sun on her face.

She’d just missed it, the very last pink of the sky hanging low over the horizon.

Elain wanted to collapse, to sob at the injustice of it all. A week without seeing the sun and she’d missed her chance.

It was better than nothing, Elain told herself. The words felt hollow, the lie bitter in her mouth. She stepped out into the garden, her slippered feet sinking into the snow as she tried to chase whatever light she could.

She could just feel the last of the warmth against her skin. Elain closed her eyes and tilted her head up. This way she could trick herself, pretend it was just the watery light of a winter sun trapped beneath clouds, and not the signs of it setting, sending her back into darkness.

Elain waited as long as possible, until night had fully settled over the garden, before trudging back towards the manor.

Her eyes scanned over the red brick house, catching on a figure standing on a balcony. He raised a single hand in greeting, and Elain tentatively waved back.

She squinted, trying to make out who it was. She hadn’t seen anyone in the house aside from Lucien and Eris, doubted there was anyone else who lived there. Wondered if Lucien felt lonely, when his brothers left.

Elain admonished herself. He was her jailer, what did she care if he was lonely?

Still, she thought she recognized the long red hair, tied back in a low ponytail, could just make out the glint of a golden eye watching her as she slipped back into the manor.

Elain had just enough time to rush back to her dorm and throw her hair up into a bun at the nape of her neck before they had to meet in front of Vassa.

The housekeeper looked tired, even more so than Elain felt. She shoved the tray into her hands with uncharacteristic roughness, the force nearly knocking over the teacup.

Elain managed to steady it just in time, keeping the ceramic from shattering on the floor.

Vassa glared at her. “Go.”

Elain nodded, hurrying past the woman and up to the Duke’s study.

He was waiting for her, hands folded neatly in front of him on the wooden desk. He looked exhausted, dark circles she’d never seen before hanging heavy beneath his eyes. His chin was dotted with red stubble, like he hadn’t had time to shave that morning.

“Thank you, Elain,” he said, rising to his full height to take it from her.

He was taller than she’d imagined, her eyes just barely hitting the tops of her shoulders.

“Of course, your grace,” she said, bobbing a curtsy once the breakfast set was firmly in his hands.

“Can you do me a favor?” Lucien asked.

Elain peered up at him from beneath her eyelashes, meeting his multicolored gaze. He was staring at her intently, almost as if he was inspecting her.

She nodded.

“Send Vassa up here.”

Elain nodded again. A surge of disappointment rose up within her. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but something more than send up the housekeeper was for sure.

“Yes, your grace.”

Elain hurried back down, keeping her head low.

“The Duke wants to see you,” she said as soon as she was back in front of Vassa.

The housekeeper swore, a litany of curses that would have made a sailor blush heating Elain’s cheeks.

“Fine,” she snapped, turning quickly towards the exit, skirts swishing around her feet.

Elain didn’t have a chance to open her mouth, ask what she was supposed to do next, before the woman was gone in a flash of red hair.

With a sigh, Elain headed to her room. It was wash day, maybe she’d be lucky enough to go now, while the water was still lukewarm instead of freezing.

She swung open the door.

Kaisia was already in there, a white bandage pressed to her neck. She whirled around, guilt written across her face.

“What’s that?” Elain asked, taking a step towards her.

“Nothing.” Kaisia stood up, using her free hand to toss dark curls over her neck. “I’m going to take a bath.”

Elain blocked the door. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” Kaisia said. “Now move.”

“Show me,” Elain demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Elain, move,” Kaisia snapped, taking a step towards her. Elain grabbed her wrist, the one holding the gauze up to her neck, and tugged.

“Stop—” Kaisia cried but it was already too late. The white bandage fluttered to the floor, revealing two red dots marking her otherwise unblemished skin.

“Fuck,” Elain said. It was like the rumors said, girls turning up with two puncture wounds on their necks, drained of blood. There was something wrong with the King and his sons.

“Did Lucien?” The image that popped into Elain’s mind, one of Lucien, mouth attached to Kaisia’s neck, drinking, made her feel sick to her stomach.

Kaisia shook his head. “Not the Duke.”

Elain didn’t want to interrogate the relief she felt. “Eris then.”

Kaisia tried to shove past her. “It’s none of your business.”

“Sure, until you’re dead and he turns to one of us,” Elain snarled, shoving back.

“Eris doesn’t take anyone without permission.”

“Because Eris is what you think of when you hear trustworthy,” Elain scoffed. She barely knew him and she knew that.

“I grew up in the castle, remember? My brother’s still there, kissing Beron’s ass like anyone will ever think he’s worth shit. I know what I’m doing and I trust Eris.”

“Why are you defending him,” Elain demanded. “Sure he didn’t make you but what if he takes it too far? What if you end up another one of those missing girls, just a bloodless body on the side of the river somewhere?”

“It’s only the King who does that, none of his sons.” Elain must have looked incredulous because Kaisia glared at her. “He’s been drinking from me since we were young, I know what I’m doing.”

“And Lucien?” Elain demanded. “What about his drinking habits?”

“I don’t know what he does.”

Elain snorted.

“I don’t,” Kaisia insisted. “He was always different, hidden away. Spent all his time with his mother instead of the rest of the children. If he fed, I never heard of it.”

Elain sighed but stepped to the side, clearing the doorway.

“You won’t tell,” Kaisia asked, eyes wide.

Elain gestured to the empty room. “Who could I.”

Kaisia’s look of relief was genuine. “Thank you.” Elain just held open the door, letting Kaisia lead the way to the bathing chambers.

Elain spent the whole walk up to the study torn.

To ask the Duke or not?

He was her best option if she wanted a straight answer, to find out what Kaisia wasn’t telling her. Because she doubted Kaisia had told her anything close to the whole truth.

But to ask the Duke.

Elain was still undecided when she nudged open the door. The Duke was sitting in the same position again, lounging far back in his chair, brown boots propped up on the desk. He’d shaved, much to Elain’s disappointment.

“Your grace,” she said, sliding the silver tray onto the desk and giving a small curtsey.

He lowered his papers. “Thank you Elain.”

Elain turned, heading to the door, before sighing. “Your grace?”

The Duke quirked a brow.

“I saw something last night. Something strange.”

“Strange how,” the Duke asked, setting what he was reading down and leaning forward in his seat.

“I saw one of the girls and she had marks on her neck.” Elain opted to leave Kaisia out of it, didn’t know how much the Duke knew of his brother’s activities.

“Marks?” The Duke asked.

Elain met his eyes. “Bite marks.”

The Duke’s demeanor seemed to change in an instant. His face became a cool mask, something dangerous flickering in his good eye.

“And who do you think would have bitten her?” he asked, voice deadly calm.

Elain swallowed, realizing, for the first time, that the Duke was a very dangerous man indeed. Beneath the neatly pressed suit was something different, something other than human.

“I don’t know, your grace,” she lied. “But I’ve heard rumors in the village, of creatures who lurk at night.”

She knew the minute she said it she’d gone too far.

The Duke’s face was a wash of fury as he rose to his full height.

“You know nothing,” he snarled. “You’re just a village peasant who’s mind played a trick on her in the dark.”

“But—“ Elain started, even as she took a step back, towards the door. Her heart fluttered in her chest, pounding wildly.

“No,” the Duke shouted. “You will say nothing of this to anyone. Now get out.”

The Duke’s tone filled Elain with fear, terror she hadn’t felt since she was young and the debtors came for her father.

She turned and fled out the door, back to the servants quarters without looking back, took Vassa’s orders to scrub chamber pots without question because it meant she would be busy, didn’t have to go back to the Duke’s study.

The next morning Elain woke to see something lying on her pillow. She lifted it up, holding it to the candle on her bedside table to take it in. A silver ring with the most beautiful pearl Elain had seen in her life on top, better than in any of the jewelry her father had given her when he’d returned from long business trips, perfectly smooth and round.

Elain knew what it meant. There was only one person in the manor who had the ability to get such a perfect ring, to have it slipped on her pillow without anyone noticing.

Sure enough, Vassa was waiting for her in the hall. “You’ve been upgraded,” she said, glaring down her nose at Elain. “You’ll be bringing the Lord all his meals, no more cleaning.”

She shoved a dress in Elain’s hands, nearly identical to the one she wore except for the gold embroidery along the help and sleeves. “Go change, dinner staff has to be presentable.”

Elain took it mutely, quickly changing in the room while the other women watched. Dacia and Marcie buzzed excitedly, sighing over how handsome the Duke was, how they wished it was them, while Yevah stared with barely contained jealousy. Only Kaisia seemed unexcited, grabbing Elain’s hand and giving it a quick squeeze of support on the way out.

The Duke was waiting for Elain, not behind his desk but in one of the leather chairs by the bookshelf she’d never seen used.

“Elain,” he said, rising to his feet as soon as she entered.

“Your grace,” she replied, keeping her eyes glued to the table. Her heart was in her throat, hands trembling slightly at the memory of his anger.

“I would like to apologize for my behavior yesterday. It was uncalled for.”

Elain just set the tray down on the table next to him. “It is your right as Duke to express yourself as you please.”

The Duke growled low in his throat. “No it’s not. And I’m sorry.”

“You are forgiven, your grace,” Elain said.

“Lucien,” the Duke said, plopping back down in his seat. “If you are to continue to serve me I would prefer you call me Lucien.”

“You are forgiven, Lucien,” Elain corrected. She liked the way the name sounded, the way he smiled warmly up at her. “And your gift of the ring was wholly unnecessary.”

Elain had seen the way the boys in the village seemed to lord gifts over their girls’ heads, demanding favors as a sort of exchange. Elain didn’t want to know what the Duke expected in return.

“You were scared,” Lucien replied, like that settled matters.

“People are scared all the time,” Elain said. “They don’t all get jewelry.”

A single, surprised laugh burst from Lucien. “My father always makes my mother scared,” he said, sobering. “I don’t want to be like him.

Elain tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, if only for something to do with her hands. “I would have preferred you put it towards the debt.”

Lucien looked at Elain like he’d never seen her before, like he was inspecting her, trying to figure something out.

“You don’t know, do you? How bad it is.”

Elain swallowed the lump rising in his throat. “It’s a modest sum, and as soon has my father’s knee heals enough for him to find work—“

“Elain, it’s millions,” Lucien interrupted. “It’s more than my annual allowance. I’m still not sure how your father even had that much to lose.’

“Oh.” It was the only thing she could say , the only thing she could think. Elain felt like her body was deflating, any hope she had of leaving soon, of going back to her sisters fading away before her eyes. She was just like Kaisia, trapped here until she died.

“I thought you knew,” Lucien said. “I thought someone would have told you.”

“My sisters need dowries.” It was a stupid thing to say, but it was all she could think about. No one would marry Feyre or Nesta without dowries, take on that much risk without insurance. And if their father was truly millions in debt…

“Do you want them to work here too?” Lucien asked.

Elain tried to picture it, Nesta scrubbing floors, Feyre keeping her eyes down as she delivered the breakfast tray. She couldn’t. They wouldn’t fit into this world, had been born to lead, not to serve.

“No,” Elain said. “Better they don’t know.” She forced a smile onto her face. “But thank you for your offer.

“I’m sorry,” Lucien said again.

“It’s not your fault,” Elain said brightly. “Best not to worry about it.”

Serving Lucien was all Elain had time to do. She delivered his breakfast, set the lunch table, brought lunch, brought it back, sent up tea, had just enough time to take dinner, and then had to retrieve the nightcaps.

Her feet hurt from running back and forth through the manor, to all the different rooms Lucien took his meals in, and her skin was tender from the daily baths Vassa insisted she take.

“The Duke doesn’t want to smell you,” she sneered after that first night, sending Elain off to the bath room.

But she wasn’t scrubbing floors or chamber pots, something Elain was immensely grateful for.

And Lucien was surprisingly funny, making small quips as Elain offered him food, taking delight every time she offered one in return. At least when he was alone. Whenever Eris was there he was uncharacteristically curt, giving nothing more than a nod without breaking whatever conversation the two of them were having.

But Eris was gone more and more often, off in another part of the manor. So was Kaisia, a fact Elain noted, and then chose not to bring up, even as tension seemed to radiate between them.

The same tension that radiated through the halls as the full moon approached, less than a week away.

Elain brought Lucien’s dinner up that night to see his head in his hands, a crisp letter in front of him. Elain recognized the seal, the blood red wax and curled crown that marked a letter from the King.

“What’s happened?” Elain asked, holding the tray aloft. Lucien’s desk was strewn with papers, covering every inch of wood and leaving her no place to set it down.

“A new tax has come from the King,” Lucien said, running a hand through his long hair. “Another punishment we can’t afford to bear.”

Elain shuddered at the thought of another tax from the King, more of the meager crops her village managed to grow being taken and sent away to feed people who already had too much, sending the silver spoon on the tray rattling.

Lucien took it from her, sweeping some of the papers onto the floor and setting the tray on the cleared space.

“Does Vassa think I’m starving?” he asked, eyes going wide at the sight of the massive bowl of soup.

Elain snorted, her eyes roving over the thin white shirt, thin enough to make out the chorded muscles beneath. Lucien looked far from starving. Elain had never seen him train but she knew he must to look like that, to build the muscles she knew lie hidden beneath his crisp pants.

“Maybe she just wants to show off,” Elain said. “I think she made this one herself.”

“Typical,” Lucien muttered. He gestured at the chair opposite his desk. “Sit, have some. I won’t finish it and I bet it’s better than what they serve downstairs.”

Elain did, taking his offered spoon.

She had to contain her groan at the taste. It was more flavor than she could ever remember having in her life. The food they gave the servants was good, better than anything she ate in the cottage but this—

“Good?” Lucien asked, his eye sparkling with amusement.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” Elain said, handing him the spoon.

Lucien tried the soup, a slight moan escaping his throat. Elain steadfastly ignored the way the sound sent goosebumps up her arms. “Vassa’s been holding out on me too.”

He offered her another spoonful and Elain took it gratefully. The broth was flavorful, but thin, containing less meat and vegetables than she would have expected for a Duke.

Although if the King really wanted more from them—

“How will you pay the tax?” Elain asked. “There’s already too little in the villages.”

Lucien signed, ripping a chunk off the hunk of bread Vassa had sent with the bowl. “I’ll dig into my storehouse. Beron just wants to punish me anyway, remind me how much he loathes my position.”

“If he didn’t want you, then why not make one of the other two…” Elain trailed off, the unsavory words hanging in the air.

“Why not make one of my other two brothers Duke and kill me off instead,” Lucien finished, sweeping some of the letters into a pile. “There’s benefits to being my mother’s favorite. She knows too much for my father to do anything, things that would make your skin crawl. But she can’t spare me from this.” Lucien gestured at the letter with his hand.

“Did you like growing up in the palace,” Elain asked after a pregnant pause.

Lucien softened slightly. “It was different. I spent most of my time avoiding my father, hiding out in the library, reading all the books on diplomacy I could find.”

“Were you close to your brothers?” Elain asked, thinking of Eris spending two months here instead of his own estate.

Lucien shook his head. “No, at least not when we were young. I was the last born, and I think they all knew I was different, resented that.”

Different because of his father Elain wondered who the man was, if the King was willing to raise his son as his own, let him inherit land instead of disowning him and hiding the whole thing.

“And you?” Lucien asked.

“My sisters,” Elain sighed, trying to think how to put in the words the tension that always seemed to exist in the cottage, and the love that ran stronger beneath it. “They’re very protective.”

Lucien nodded. She wondered if it wasn’t dissimilar for him. If Eris had traveled to help him with whatever his problem was, there couldn’t be that much animosity anymore.

“You know,” Lucien said, “I met your sister once.”

Elain perked up at that. “You did?”

“I was young, probably only eight or nine, and your father came to the palace to talk to our trade ambassadors. He brought Nesta along with him, in hopes of attracting one of my brothers.”

“Did it work?” Elain asked. She vaguely remembered, the year before her mother died, of their house being in disarray, of new dresses and jewels being brought in for her father’s journey to the palace, of a new governess being brought in to teach her and Nesta how to dance.

“She made quite the impression on Eris,” Lucien said. “The girl who didn’t seem impressed by him and his princely status. But your father’s ships sank before anything could ever come of it.”

Elain tried to imagine Nesta being married to Eris, of the bite marks being taken out of her neck, and shivered.

“Are you liking it here?” Lucien asked, changing the subject. “Vassa not being too hard on you?”

Elain chose her words carefully. “It’s…different…than I thought it would be.”

“Different good or different bad?”

“Just different.” She could tell Lucien wanted to ask more, didn’t know how to tell him that he was less scary than rumored in the village, less cruel. But still the fear lingered, of whatever him and Eris were, why they stayed in the dark.

She was spared answering by her spoon scraping the bottom of the bowl. Lucien seemed just as surprised as she was, Elain hadn’t realized how long they’d been sitting there.

“I’ll let you go now,” Lucien said, sounding regretful.

Elain quickly stood, dropping into a low curtsy. “Thank you your grace.”

“Lucien,” the Duke called after her as she hurried out of her study. Sunlight was starting to peek through the curtains on the windows in the hall, sending light scattering on the floor. Elain’s hands itched to throw one open, to let the light stream in while the sun rose, but she resisted. They were closed for a reason, even if that reason remained frustratingly elusive.

Kaisia was the only one awake when Elain returned, the other three of their dorm mates asleep in their beds. Kaisia was still in her day dress, a fresh bandage stuck on her neck.

“Late night?” she asked.

“I could say the same to you,” Elain said, pulling out her nightgown. “You’ve been gone a lot.”

Kaisia shrugged. “Vassa has no complaints.”

“Sure,” Elain said, pulling the nightgown over her head. “And you spending time with Eris has nothing to do with it.”

“I’m not doing anything you aren’t with Lucien.” Kaisia said, voice haughty.

Elain flushed hot. “I’m not doing anything other than my job.”

“And I’m doing mine,” Kaisia snapped.

“Fine,” Elain said. “Pretend that’s it. But don’t come asking for my help when it all goes wrong.”

Kaisia laughed. “Trust me Elain, I know much more about what I’m getting into then you do.”

“Maybe because you don’t tell me anything,” Elain snarled. She turned to fluff her pillow, hitting it hard with the palm of her hand. “Except you don’t want to, you just want to feel like you’re better than the rest of us. Well guess what, we’re all working in the same place.”

“For now,” Kaisia sneered. “Until you bat your pretty brown eyes and get Lucien to fix all your problems.”

“Fuck you,” Elain screamed, throwing her pillow at Kaisia.

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, grow up.” The pillow flew back across the room to Elain’s bed.

“Shut up, both of you,” yelled Yevah. “None of us want to hear it.”

Elain glared at Kaisia before blowing out the candle at her nightstand, plunging the room into darkness.

The two women danced around each other for the next couple days, Elain making sure she was never alone in a room with Kaisia. It meant Elain had even less people to talk to. The other three girls were nice enough, but they all worked in the laundry room and all the gossip they had to talk about never included anyone Elain knew.

Lucien had been her reprieve, sharing dinner with her every night. After that first dinner Vassa had started sending up two plates, one for each of them, even as she glared at Elain with clear disapproval every time she came to collect it.

“So,” Lucien said, when they were halfway through their plate of stewed beef and vegetables, “what exactly did you mean by different?”

Elain sighed, glancing at the closed window behind Lucien. “Truthfully? I miss the sun.”

Lucien cocked his head. “Really?”

“I had a garden, right outside our cottage. I would try to grow whatever food I could during the summer. Occasionally we’d get a few potatoes or such, but mostly it was nice to be out of the cottage, to feel useful.”

“I know what you mean,” Lucien said, leaning forward conspiratorially. “The King,” Lucien cleared his throat, “my father always kept night hours. As a child, I would sneak out while everyone was asleep, just sit in the gardens to have a few moments alone, soak in the sunlight. It was the only time I could escape…” Lucien trailed off and Elain chose not to call him out on the obvious lie. To ask why he would need to sneak away. “But you get used to it eventually.”

“If you like the sun so much, why not change things?”

“I’ve adapted,” Lucien said with a shrug. “And in many ways staying in the dark makes things easier. Less complicated.”

Elain shook her head. “I don’t think I’ll ever stop missing it.”

Lucien reached into his breast pocket to pull out a gold watch. He check the time, a grin breaking out across his face. A real one, not the half smiles he so often gave. It made him unfairly handsome, like the story book princes Elain had dreamed about. “Come on, then, we have some time.”

“Time for what?” Elain asked, taking Lucien’s offered hand. It was surprisingly warm, his grip firm as he tugged her out of her seat and through the study doors.

“You’ll see,” he said, dragging her through the halls. Elain had to run to keep up with his long strides, her slippers slapping against the floor. He practically bounced with every step, light in a way she’d never seen him. His eagerness made him look younger, and he seemed to shed the weariness he always had, the weight of the Duchy that lay heavy on his shoulders.

He ground to a halt in front of the doors that led out to the garden. Elain nearly slammed into him, bracing herself with a hand on his bicep.

“Here,” he said, throwing open the doors. The sun was just peeking out over the horizon, casting everything in a warm glow.

Elain stepped out onto the grass, steps hesitant. Lucien’s fingers slipped out of her grasp, letting her go. It didn’t feel real as brightness flooded the world, like it was all some cosmic joke being played on her, ready to be ripped away and plunge her back into darkness.

She could feel the warmth against her skin, chasing away the chill that seemed to linger no matter how deeply she burrowed into her bed, a symptom of the night.

The frozen grass crunched under her feet as she ventured further outside, into the gardens. In the light it was more beautiful than she’d imagined, the hedges a shade of bright emerald she didn’t think was possible, especially not in their cold little region.

Overhead, a streak of fire shot through the sky. She gasped, whirling around to look at Lucien, check if he’d seen it. “What was that?”

Lucien, still standing in the doorway, glanced up. “Vassa likes to have her fun.”

It wasn’t the strangest thing Elain had heard since she’d arrived, and she chose to let it go, save her questions for another day.

She held out a hand to Lucien. “You won’t join me?”

“Trust me, I would love nothing more,” Lucien said, ruefully, “but I can’t.”

“Oh,” Elain said. She didn’t know why it stung so much, why she cared, but it did. She wanted Lucien with her, to show her around the gardens.

Lucien must have sensed her hesitation. “Go on,” he said. “I’ll wait for you.”

Elain nodded. It was fine. She was going to enjoy this moment for all she could. She drifted further into the garden, down the winding path. She turned back at one point, to see if Lucien had changed his mind but he just waved her on.

It was still too cold for flowers to bloom but the garden was beautiful regardless. Hidden staircases led to several secret spots, smaller beds surrounded by hedges. Elain could imagine two lovers sneaking off to one, the idea so achingly romantic her heart fluttered.

In the middle of it all was a huge pond, the top still frozen over. The few birds that hadn’t flown south hovered around it, no doubt in search of something edible. Elain wished she had some scraps of bread to toss them.

Elain sat on one of the benches that surrounded the perimeter, listening to the slight titters of the birds. The manor felt very far away, the responsibilities and anxiety so foreign they couldn’t touch her.

Between her cloak and the puddle of sunshine she’d found, Elain was pleasantly warm, her eyelids growing heavy with exhaustion.

She didn’t know when she fell asleep, but Elain had a fuzzy memory of being pulled into strong arms, of a kiss pressed to her forehead. She woke up in her bed, tucked under the covers. She felt less chilled than usual, as if someone had heated the sheets before pulling them up over her.

That night was the full moon, their one night off that month. Elain sat huddled on the bed, back turned to Kaisia as the snarls and barks of whatever came sounded through the manor.

The room was silent, and Elain longed to talk to Kaisia, if only to distract herself, but she wouldn’t. Let the other girl apologize to her first.

The next snarl seemed to be closer, but no. That was just Elain’s mind playing tricks on her in the dark, making things scarier than they needed to be.

A howl rang out, louder than any of the other noises they’d heard. Echoing like it was in the hallway.

Elain sat up, her actions mirrored by Kaisia.

The two looked at each other, Elain seeing her own fear reflected in Kaisia’s face.

Another snarl. This one was definitely closer, sounding in Elain’s ears.

“What’s that?” Marcie asked.

“It’s just our minds playing tricks,” Kaisia said, her tone uncertain.

And then the bang sounded, as if something large had slammed into their door. The wood rattled, but held firm.

“Shit,” Kaisia said.

Another hit to the door. It seemed to shake more this time.

Elain swallowed. She didn’t want to know what was on the other side, what was so desperate to get to them.

Although she wasn’t sure if she was going to have a choice as a third hit had the wood buckling, splintering in parts.

There were shouts now, human voices swallowed up by the growling that rang in Elain’s ears.

“Please,” whimpered someone, Elain couldn’t say who.

Elain pulled her knees up to her chest, waiting for the inevitable.

The fourth strike was too much for the door to take. It flew off its hinges, shards flying into the room. The noise of it clattering to the floor was deafening, taking up too much of the small space.

Elain would have thought the animal was a wolf, if not for the bright red color of its fur, gleaming like flames in the glowing candle light. It was huge, easily the size of a small horse, and muscles shifted under its coat as it stalked towards them, teeth bared to show long, gleaming white fangs.

Someone was screaming, and it took Elain a second to realize it was her.

The animal swung its head, its eyes, one amber and one a shiny gold, locking in her as he prowled closer. He looked almost curious, that horrible growling stopping, if only for a moment.

“No,” shouted Eris as he ran into the room, a rope in hand. From one end hung a heavy metal hook, razor sharp at the end.

It drew the animal’s attention, his head swiveling to look at the lord.

“No,” Eris repeated, advancing slowly.

Vassa and Jurian followed him, both holding similar weapons.

The beast growled, the noise coming from deep in his throat.

Eris pounced, tossing the hook. The metal caught, sinking deep into the animal’s shoulder. He howled, bright red blood welling from the wound.

“Come on,” Eris growled, pulling on the rope.

The beast whimpered in pain but stood firm, resisting even as the hook dug in deeper.

Jurian crept along the wall, pulling something from his belt. A collar Elain realized after a second, a great black one with two rings attacked.

Eris gave a sharp tug on the rope at the same time Jurian lunged, wrapping the leather around the beast’s neck. Vassa followed him, hooking her rope into one of the rings while Jurian did the same.

The two of them pulled, while Eris dropped his own rope. The line went slack, the hook finally stopping its destructive path.

Elain didn’t know what inhuman strength Vassa and Jurian processed, but as they pulled onto rope the beast slid across the floor, claws gouging deep marks into the stone.

“Come,” Vassa grunted, sweat beading at her forehead.

The beast howled, thrashing violently against the grasp the two servants had on him. It was futile as he continued to be dragged, out of the room and into the hall. The sound of claws on stone was ear splitting as he fought against the bonds.

“Are you okay?” Eris asked, voice surprisingly gentle.

Elain startled, turning to stare at him. But his gaze was trained on Kaisia, who was trembling violently.

“I’m fine,” she choked out.

Eris nodded, shoulders slumping. “Good.”

“What was that,” demanded Yevah.

“None of your concern,” Eris said. His usual haughty tone was back, any sign of concern gone.

“It was in the manor,” Dacia said, her outrage evident. “It could have killed us.”

“A one time occurrence, I assure you,” Eris said. “You’ll all be given the week off as compensation.”

“But—“ Yevah started but Eris had already stormed out of the room, shutting what little remained of the door behind him.

Elain nearly leapt out of her skin when she felt the arm wrap around her, before realizing it was Kaisia. She was still trembling, her whole body shivering. Elain pulled her into a tight embrace.

“I didn’t know,” Kaisia whispered. “I promise I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay,” Elain said.

“I would have told you if I did,” Kaisia insisted. “All I knew about was Eris and his brothers.”

“I know,” Elain assured her. “I know.”

The two of them stayed like that for hours, holding each other for comfort, until the sound of the beast had faded with the dawn.

Jurian was waiting for her the next day, his arms crossed over his chest as he paced the hallway. He flashed Elain a sympathetic smile as she stepped out, cloak clutched tightly around her.

He offered her an elbow. “I’m here to take you home.”

Elain gave him a watery smile as she took it, letting him lead her out to the waiting carriage. It was the same one that had taken her to the manor, far grander than the three waiting for the other women. Kaisia had declared she’d be staying, prompting a loud argument with Vassa what was settled when Eris came down and said Kaisia would be staying with him for the week. Kaisia’s glare made it clear he had not discussed it with her prior but she hadn’t refused, not when her alternative was going back to her brother.

Jurian helped her up, and then they were off, back down the same road they came in on. Elain chose to ignore Vassa watching them leave, waving at Jurian until they were out of sight.

“You doing alright?” Jurian asked. “Need anything?”

Elan turned away from the window, where she’d been watching the dark trees pass. “I don’t know.” It was an honest answer. Even if she did know how she felt, she doubted Jurian would be able to do anything to help.

The rest of the ride passed in silence, Elain lost in thought as she tried to figure out what she could tell her sisters, how she could explain what had happened over the past months.

She still hadn’t figured it out when the carriage came to a halt, back in front of her cottage. Jurian swung open the door and helped her down.

“Remember what I told you the first night. If you need me, I’m there. I’ll be with my mother down the road.

Elain managed to give him a weak grin of thanks, and then he was gone, leaving her alone.

A winter of snow had not been kind to the cottage. One of the window shutters had fallen off and the roof seemed to be sagging in the middle, more so than she remembered.

The door swung open on Elain’s first knock. Feyre, wearing the same nightgown she had been when Elain left, gasped. She pulled Elian into a tight hug and Elain couldn’t help but notice how prominent Feyre’s ribs felt, how she was barely more than skin and bones.

“You’re here,” Feyre cried.

“Who’s here?” The voice of their father sounded thin, and Elain lifted her head to see him sitting by the fire on the same cot he dragged out every night to sleep on.

“I’m home,” Elain said, stepping into the light of the cabin.

“Elain,” her father gasped, rising on shaky feet. Elain rushed to him, pulling him into a tight hug. “I’ve missed you, darling,” he said, burying a hand in her hair.

She stepped back to see Nesta waiting. “You’re back.” Not a question, but a statement of fact.

“The Duke gave me the week off,” Elain explained.

“And then he’ll whisk you back off in the middle of the night?”

“Lucien keeps night time hours,” Elain explained.

Nesta arched an eyebrow. “He’s Lucien to you?”

Elain felt her cheeks warm. “We’ve talked.”

Nesta snorted, turning back to the bedroom.

“Don’t take it personally,” Feyre whispered. “She’s upset because she’s agreed to marry Thomas Mandray.”

“What?” Elain asked. She remembered Thomas, the way his eyes always seemed to linger too long on the breasts of women in town, how he always seemed to accidentally bump into certain parts of her body.

“More collectors came, and Thomas’ father was willing to pay a dowry for her,” Feyre said. “It covered some of what we owed.”

“And the rest?”

“I’ll figure it out,” Feyre said, even as her voice trembled. “I can sell some furs, it’ll be fine.”

Elain knew from experience that Feyre’s furs never went as far as they hoped. No one in the village had enough money to pay what they were worth, and even if they did, a single woman was easy to take advantage of. But she nodded and let herself be pulled into the bedroom. Lay nestled between Nesta and Feyre, back where she belonged.

That morning everything felt slightly wrong. They went through their usual routine, Feyre making a watery porridge she spooned into the bowls as they all sat together at the table and ate. Nesta talked about her upcoming marriage with feigned enthusiasm, bragged about how happy she would be once she was out of the house, how Feyre would finally have time to herself to paint.

Elain listened mutely, forcing down the food even as it tasted like ash in her mouth. She couldn’t help but feel guilty that she was there, one more person for Feyre to feed, especially when Elain saw how little was in the cupboard, just a few pieces of dried meat left from when Feyre was able to hunt in the fall.

“We should go to the market,” Feyre said. “Get stuff for your wedding.”

Nesta agreed and Elain followed them out of the house with a waved goodbye to their father. She couldn’t help but notice how light the coin purse looked in Feyre’s hands, how little they had. Felt guilty with how fine her own cloak was in comparison to her sisters’ threadbare garments.

“What do you think of this one?” Feyre asked, holding up a scrap of lace from one of the stalls.

“It’s nice,” Elain said. It was, but plain. And another sigh of what awaited Nesta. A life of misery, of forcing herself to be smaller, lesser, so as never to overstep her husband.

“Get it,” Nesta said, voice brisk. “It’s the cheapest they have.”

Feyre handed over a coin in exchange for a length. One less coin they had to feed themselves.

“So what’s it like?’ Feyre asked as they walked through the stalls, looking at wares they could never dream of affording. “The Duke’s house?”

“It’s huge,” Elain said. “Bigger than ours ever was.”

“And the Duke?” Nesta asked, tone mocking. “Is he nice and kind and handsome?”

Elain’s cheeks burned. “He is handsome.”

Nesta huffed. “Probably why you’re so eager to go back.”

“I—“ Elain started, desperate to defend herself, but before she could, a shout of Nesta’s name interrupted them.

“Nesta,” called Thomas, lumbering over to where they were.

The glare Nesta gave him was lethal, loathing written clear across her face. Thomas ignored it as he slithered a possessive hand around her waist, pulling her tightly against him. His fingers drifted up, to brush the underside of her breasts.

“How is my wife?”

“I’m not your wife yet,” Nesta snarled, stepping out of his grip. “Not for another month.”

Thomas leered down at her. “Or sooner, if the debtors come calling.”

Elain averted her gaze, staring determinedly at a silver necklace hanging from a mannequin in one of the stalls.

Feyre managed to detangle them, claiming she needed both their help for dinner, and they were out of the market. Nesta rubbed her waist, as if trying to erase the feel of Thomas’ hands on her.

Dinner passed in tense silence, her father asking how the market went as Nesta and Feyre carefully avoided mention of Thomas. Elain hurried off to bed as soon as she could, followed quickly by Nesta and Feyre. Her stomach felt empty, more empty than it has since she went to the manor. It’s a feeling she hadn’t missed.

And lying in bed that night, listening to Feyre’s stomach grumble and Nesta’s silent tears she muffled with the pillow, Elain knew she couldn’t go back to Lucien, not while her sisters had to stay in the cottage.

She slid out of bed, quietly pulling on clothes.

“Where are you going?” Nesta asked, sitting up slightly.

“I have a friend I promised to see,” Elain whispered, slipping out the door before Nesta could ask any more questions. Thankfully Nesta didn’t follow.

The walk down to the cabin Jurian indicated was a short one, the path muddy from the recently melted snow. The door swung open at the first knock, almost as if Jurian was waiting for her.

“What do you need?” No beating around the bush then.

“Take me back,” Elain said.

Jurian’s brows shot up. “That bad?”

“Please,” Elain begged. “I need to go back and talk to Lucien.”

The manor was the same as it had been when she’d left, still covered in the same layer of snow. Jurian had needed to call for a carriage, so it had taken a full day of waiting, and the sun setting as they pulled in front of the servant’s entrance.

“Thank you,” Elain said, dashing out of the carriage before Jurian could help her down. She practically ran down the hall, to the servant’s wing.

The household was just stirring, people moving between the bathing chambers and their quarters. Even Vassa wasn’t awake yet, the spot she usually occupied left empty.

Elain sighed in relief, striding into the kitchen. Lucien’s tray was already on the counter, ready to be loaded with his breakfast items. Elain wracked her brain, trying to remember what he usually had.

Tea. She needed to brew him a pot of tea.

Elain gave a silent thanks to whoever had left the stove lit as she filled a pot with water and hung it to heat. The bread hadn’t been baked yet, so yesterday’s was going to have to do, as was the half used jar of jam left in the cupboard.

Assembly was easy enough, the dishes sitting stacked neatly in a pile.

Elain carried the tray back up through familiar halls, trying to keep her hands steady, even as nerves coiled in her stomach.

It was all a bad idea. She had no way of knowing if Lucien wanted to see her, if he’d even be willing to help her, but she had no other options.

Her knock on the study door was met with silence.

Elain cursed. Lucien probably wasn’t even awake yet, much less ready—

“You’re back.” Eris looked down at her, head cocked in confusion, from the crack in the door.

“Is your brother there?” Elain asked.

Eris turned around. “Is he?”

Lucien must have given some signal because Eris swung the door open wider. “You can come in.”

Elain gave a whispered thanks as she entered. Lucien was still in his nightshirt, the fabric short enough to show off his legs. Elain blushed at the sight. She knew he was muscled but seeing it…

“Elain—“ Lucien said, rising to his feet. He looked awful, the beginnings of a beard dotting his jaw and purplish bruises heavy under his eyes. “You came back?”

Elain swallowed. “The debt was not yet paid.” Not the full truth, but the most she would say with Eris standing behind her.

“Jurian didn’t tell you?” At Elain’s blank expression Lucien sighed. “Your debts are paid. You’re free to go.”

“All of them?” But no, that didn’t make sense. Why else would Nesta need to marry Thomas than for money.

“The ones I know about.”

The tray in Elain’s hands felt like a weight. “There’s more. More than either of us knew about.” More reasons she’d have to stay.

“Fuck,” Lucien muttered. He looked over Elain’s shoulder. “Eris, get out.”

“But I’m invested,” Eris drawled.

“Eris.” Lucien’s tone left no room for questioning.

Elain heard the door shut behind her, even as she kept her eyes trained on Lucien.

“Fuck, Elain. How did it get this bad?”

“I don’t know.” An honest answer.

Lucien advanced towards her, lifted the tray out of her hands and tossed it unceremoniously onto the desk. The teacup shattered at the force but Lucien didn’t even flinch.

“I need you to save my sisters,” Elain said. “I’ll do anything, anything you ask. I’ll work for you until I die.” She was ready to beg on her knees, she didn’t care. Anything to see Nesta freed from a life with Thomas, Feyre no longer needing to hunt.

“I’m not a man you should offer anything to,” Lucien said, even as he came closer.

Elain’s eyes narrowed. She took in Lucien’s eyes, one gold and one russet, just like she’d seen that night. How Kaisia said he was different, how the King hated him.

“You’re the beast, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

And there it was, all laying in that one devastating word.

“How?”

Lucien groaned, collapsing back into the chair in front of his desk. “What do you know?”

“You’re not the King’s son.” Elain said.

Lucien gave a bitter laugh. “That pretty much sums it up. My mother met Helion. King of Pelas,” he added at Elain’s confused expression. “Right before she married Beron. She wanted to run away, marry him instead but her family wouldn’t allow it. They kept in contact though, exchanging letters. Until a year before I was born, when Helion came as an official delegate.

“I looked different from the moment I was born, but no one wanted to say anything, not when it would offend two kings. Cleaning up that war would be too difficult.” Lucien shrugged. “So here I am, too difficult to get rid of, stuck in the worst duchy of the kingdom while the King makes my life a nightmare.”

“Does Helion know?” Elain asked.

Lucien leaned over the desk, sliding open a drawer and pulling out a stack of letters. “I told him once I was of age.”

“Then why stay? If you hate the dark, hate this place…”

“When my mother’s ready,” Lucien said fiercely. “And not a day sooner.” Lucien dropped the stack of papers down on the desk and slumped in his seat. “So now you know everything you need to ruin me.”

“I told you, all I want is for you to save my sisters. You can’t if you’re ruined.”

“So that’s your offer, my secrets for your sisters?”

“I told you, I’d do anything.”

Lucien groaned, the sound coming from somewhere deep in his throat. “That’s a very dangerous thing to offer me, Elain. Because there’s a great number of things I want to do with you.”

Elain bit her lip. They were edging into dangerous territory now, more than any of their other conversations. “I thought that was why you bought me. So you could do what you want.”

“I bought you so no one else could,” Lucien said. “I know what the people who buy children do to them. Trust me, you’re happier working for a monster than whoever your father was going to sell you to.”

“My father’s about to do the same to Nesta, trade her to the highest bidder. And then there will be more debts and he’ll turn to Feyre.” Because there would always be more debtors, more people her father had made deals with and then failed to pay back, all to fund his ridiculous fraud of his lifestyle.

“You know what I am and you still want my help?”

Elain met his eyes, the shame burning in his gaze. “You could have killed me in that room and you didn’t. You can’t be that much of a monster.”

Luciens voice was dark when he spoke. “Trust me, I every much can be.”

Elain took a step towards him. “Prove it.”

The smile that spread across Lucien’s face was predatory, belonging to the beast that lurked within him. “Marry me and I’ll help you.”

“That’s your conditions? My hand in marriage to save my sisters from the same fate?”

“You could always tell everyone you now I’m a hideous monster. It might make me more cooperative.”

Elain scoffed, taking another step towards him. “Like they’d ever believe me.”

Lucien met her eye, staring at her like she was his prey and he was a hunter. “I trust you can be very persuasive when they want to be.”

Elain looked him over, the red hair falling around his shoulders, the handsome face. And then she sat in his lap, legs straddling either side of his waist.

“Deal.”

Lucien reached up, brushing a hand along her jaw. “I think we should seal it with a kiss.”

“Not a handshake?” Elain asked, but she leaned forward, gently pressing her lips against his. They were surprisingly soft, and Lucien opened to her, let her tongue sweep past his lips. He tasted of spice and cinnamon, something just on the edge of burning her.

Lucien kissed like he was starving, like he wanted to devour her. His hands reached up to hold her in place, grip tight along her waist. Elain’s hands ran along his back, fingers reaching under his nightshirt to reach warm skin.

“Gods,” Lucien murmured, breaking away from her mouth to kiss a line down her neck, nipping and sucking his way down.

Elain whimpered when he found a particularly sensitive spot. She could feel her thighs dampening with arousal. She’d been a few boys in the village before but nothing had felt quite as exciting as just kissing Lucien did.

The noise seemed to spur Lucien on, his lips teasing at the top of her dress, one hand reaching up to brush along her breasts. The touch had Elain’s nipples pebbling under the fabric and she arched into his touch.

“Careful,” Lucien groaned. “We have to save it for the wedding night.”

Elain pouted. “Do you plan on backing out?”

“Never,” Lucien snarled. “But I won’t have anyone accusing me of being anything less than a perfect Lord.”

Elain’s fingers played with the collar of his shirt, working the button undone.“I don’t even have a ring,”

“I gave you one,” Lucien protested. “But I can get you another. Any type you want, say the word and I’ll find it.”

“No. That one’s perfect.”

“Good.” And then Lucien’s lips were back on hers. His hand reached under her ass to lift her up, placing her on the desk with something close to reverence.

Even while sitting, Lucien towered above her and Elain had to tilt his head back to meet his mouth. Her hands reached down, to the base of his nightshirt, and pulled it up and off.

She was met with the sight of warm brown skin and hard earned muscles dusted with fine red hair. Her hands ran up Lucien’s shoulders, down his stomach.

Lucien groaned at her touch, pulling her closer.

“There’s lots of things we can do that will keep your maidenhood intact,” he whispered, pulling away from her to bend at the knees.

“What—” Elain asked. Lucien ran his hands up her calves, pulling her dress up as he moved up her legs. He ripped her undergarments away, throwing them unceremoniously in a pile behind him.

Lucien delved under her skirts and Elain caught a glance of a wound on his shoulder, jagged and half healed.

She sat up, brushing a finger along it.

“Is that from—”

“It’s fine,” Lucien murmured. “It happens.”

Now that she was looking, Elain could see several scars flecking Lucien’s otherwise smooth back, little holes and gashes long healed over.

“Is this your life? Always worried something will happen, the beast will break out?”

Lucien shrugged. “Helion says it gets easier once you’ve settled, have a person to protect. He said he was never calmer than when he was with my mother.”

Elain read the implication in his words. She was his person now. The thought made something melt deep in her chest.

“Now please,” Lucien begged, pulling her skirts up around her hips. “I want to taste my wife.”

“I’m not your wife yet—” Elain started, but the rest of her sentence was cut off by a moan as Lucien licked a stripe up her seam. Her hips nearly bucked off the desk as he did it again and Lucien chuckled, placing one hand on her stomach to keep her still. The width of his palm spanned near across her, squeezing with comforting pressure.

He continued his assault on her folds, tongue playing with her entrance as his other hand reached up, thumb rolling over the sensitive bundle of nerves at the top of Elain’s thighs.

The whimpers he managed to pull from her would have been embarrassing if it hadn’t felt so good. Elain felt pleasure build at the base of her spine. Her stomach tightened, her inner muscles clenching against her will.

“There you go,” Lucien groaned. “Come on my face, make sure everyone in the manor knows you’re mind.”

He punctuated the words with a particularly hard flick of her clit that had Elain whimpering. “Lucien,” she panted.

“You’re going to be a Lady,” Lucien continued, as if she hadn’t said anything. “And Ladies do what they’re told.”

Elain nodded, clutching the edge of her desk as Lucien’s tongue finally breached her entrance, darting into her.

“Please,” she whined. “I’m so close.”

“I know you are, love. You can do it.” Lucien rolled his thumb harder over her clit and the stimulation had Elain falling over the edge, pleasure shooting through her so hard she saw stars.

“Good girl,” Lucien said, riding her though the high. “You did so well for me.”

Elain’s chest glowed at the praise. She reached down, a hand on Lucien’s jaw as she pulled him up for a messy kiss. Lucien tasted slightly salty, tasted of her and it only made Elain more aroused, her legs wrapping around Lucien’s hips.

The knocking at the door stopped them from going any further.

“Are you quite done?” shouted Eris through the wood.

Elain flushed hot at the idea of Eris knowing what they’d been doing but Lucien just chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek before yelling back, “why do you care about it.”

“I’ll tell father you’re marrying a peasant,” Eris taunted.

Lucien groaned. “What do I have to give you for you to not do that?”

Eris made a play of thinking about it, letting them sit in silence for a moment. Elain tried to even out her breathing, really hoped Eris couldn’t hear her through the wood.

“You know what I want.”

“Fine,” Lucien shouted. ‘You can take Kaisia back with you. But you’re on your own if you want to convince her to marry you.”

“I will,” Eris answered. “And congratulations.”

Lucien just rolled his eyes, leaning down to kiss Elain again.

The wedding took place a month later.

Elain knew it would have been sooner but a month was the quickest the seamstresses could get the dress done, and Lucien had reluctantly agreed to wait.

It was worth it, Elain decided, as she brushed hand down the front of the yellow velvet. The dress seemed to sparkle, glowing like she was the sun.

“You look beautiful,” Feyre said, hugging her for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

Elain tried not to cry, even as tears welled up. Lucien had ordered Jurian to bring her family to the manor as soon as they emerged from the study, effectively ending Nesta’s engagement to Thomas.

Not that Nesta was complaining as she took Feyre’s spot, wrapping her arms around Elain. “I’m happy for you,” he whispered.

Nesta pulled back, straightening. “Now let's go, Lucien won’t be kept waiting.”

Elain snorted. Lucien would wait as long as he needed to, she was sure, but she was just as eager as him. Elain knew what the crowd thought, all the Lords and Ladies who had come to spectate, hundreds of people Elain had been introduced to over the past week and then promptly forgotten about. That she was pregnant, and this was Lucien atoning for his mistakes.

They were wrong, at least as far as Elain knew. Although Lucien had been hilariously bad at sticking to his promise to keep her pure for her wedding day. Not that Elain had helped much, guiding his length right where it needed to be.

Elain flushed at the memory, raising the bouquet in her hands to cover her small smile at the thought.

Feyre linked arms with Elain on one side, Nesta on the other, as they led her down to the aisle. She’d opted not to have her father walk her down. He’d already given her away to the Duke in his own way, sold her to pay his debts.

He was sitting in the front row though, next to Eris and Kaisia. Her friend gave a small smile and waved, and Elain beamed back. They hadn’t had more than a few minutes to see each other, not while Elain was busy trying to plan things, but Kaisia looked happy. Elain chose to ignore the high neckline of her dress, what that meant. Besides, Kaisia was pretty enough to make it a new fashion statement, especially if she did end up married to Eris.

Lucien was waiting for her at the end of the aisle and Elain’s breath caught in her throat as she took him in. He’d tied his auburn hair back, the color contrasting beautifully against the green suit jacket and brown pants he wore.

His smile was so bright it cracked something in her chest.

“Don’t cry,” Nesta whispered and Elain laughed. Her sisters dropped her arms and she stepped forward to take Lucien’s hands.

If asked to recount her vows later, Elain never would be able to. All she could remember is the way Lucien looked at her, and the happiness burning bright in her chest.

Elain sat at the dinner table later, head resting on Lucien’s shoulder as he gently ran a hand through her hair.

They’d been forced to cede the head to the King and Queen, not that Elain minded much. Being off to the side allowed Lucien to get rather creative with where he placed his hand, resting higher on her thigh that was socially acceptable.

Helion sat across from them, one of several Kings who’d made the journey. King Rhysand, having come south from his own lands, seemed deep in conversation with Feyre and Elain smirked at the sight. She might not be the last Archeron married off to royalty.

“Congratulations,” Helion said, raising his wine glass in toast. Lucien lifted his own, tapping the rims gently.

They drank, a silent understanding between two people who were more related than anyone could guess.

“We should start dancing,” Elain muttered.

“Do you want to dance or do you want everyone distracted?” Lucien teased.

“Why can’t I want both?”

Lucien laughed, but stood, signaling the small quartet in the corner to start up a lively waltz. He pulled Elain up, leading her onto the dance floor.

His hands settled lightly on her waist, the picture of propriety as he spun her around. Others quickly joined them, Helion leading Lucien’s mother out.

Off in the corner, Vassa was directing Jurian through the steps.

“Vassa dances very well for a housekeeper,” Elain said.

Lucien turned, catching sight. “Vassa was raised to be a lady. She liked gambling a bit too much in her free time and her sisters didn’t feel like paying for it, so they shipped her off to be married to Lord Korsechi. I offered her a job if she left and she accepted. Plus,” Lucien leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially in her ear, “our nighttime hours work quite well for her problem.”

The fact that Kosechi had cursed her to turn into a firebird by day, something Lucien had confided in her.

“And thus started your life of rescuing fair maidens?” Elain asked.

“It worked out well for you, didn’t it?”

Elain hummed. “Hopefully it works out for Jurian too.”

Lucien growled, tugging her closer. “I don’t want you talking about another man on our wedding night.”

Elain rolled her eyes, if only to hide her smile.

The song ended, the audience clapping politely. Lucien rested his hand on Elain’s back and led them over to his mother, still standing besides Helion.

“You look happy,” Lucien said.

Cait Vanserra smiled. “Now that you’re settled, and Eris is on his way, I think it might be my turn to find something else to occupy my time.”

“It’s time,” Lucien said.

Elain pretended not to notice the way Lady Vanserra’s hand drifted to the knife hanging from her belt, the handle the same as the ones they’d been eating dinner with.

“Now go,” Helion said. “I’m sure you have better things to do than hang out with us.”

Lucien didn’t need to be told twice, grabbing Elain’s hand and practically dragging her out of the ball room.

“I think we might be moving soon,” Elain commented mildly. “Somewhere warmer.”

“I don’t care where we go,” Lucien said gruffly. He swung open a door, one Elain recognized as leading into the library, and hauled Elain into him. His hand wrapped around her hair, left long and curling down her back, and angled her head up.

There lips met in a hungry kiss. Lucien’s free hand drifted down to the back of Elain’s thighs and then he was pulling her up, her legs wrapping around her waist as her back hit the wall.

Lucien’s hips ground against hers and Elain could feel the growing bulge in his pants, a sign of his desire for her.

“I love you,” Lucien groaned against her mouth.

Elain nipped at his lower lip. “I love you too.”

Lucien’s hand loosened his grip on her hair. “We should go back to my room,” he said, even as he reached around her to start untying the laces of Elain’s dress. “Anyone could walk in on us.”

“It’s your house, my lord,” Elain said, fingers undoing the first of Lucien’s jacket buttons. “I think we can do what we want in any of the rooms.”

“My Lord,” Lucien muttered. “I don’t think I want you to call me anything but that.”

Elain laughed, still working her way down his jacket. She undid the final button and Lucien slipped out of it, leaving him in nothing but a thin cotton shirt.

He finally managed to get her laces undone, pulling the dress down to expose her breasts. “I love these,” he muttered, leaning down to take one of her nipples into his mouth.

“Not nearly as much as you love other parts of me,” Elain gasped, arching into his touch.

“True, there’s nothing I love are than your cunt,” Lucien said and Elain slapped at his chest.

“That’s foul,” she complained, but Lucien just laughed, tugging gently on her nipple. Elain moaned, hands pulling at the ties on Lucien’s pants.

She got them undone, and roughly shoved his pants down his legs. Her hand wrapped around his cock, pumping once

“Eager?” Lucien asked.

“Gods, shut up,” Elain said, placing her hands on each of Lucien’s cheeks and pulling him up for another kiss.

Lucien met her lips greedily, one hand sliding between her thighs. He moaned at the slick he felt there, her own arousal making itself known.

He ground against her once, but Elain was done. She reached down, guiding his penis to her entrance. Lucien thrust into her and Elain screamed at the pleasure, at the feeling of him, of her husband, filling her.

“I love you,” Lucien panted, rolling his hips into her. Elain met him stroke for stroke, grinding against him.

“You said,” Elain said, her voice breathless.

“I wanted to make sure you knew,” Lucien said, punctuating his words with a flick of her clit.

Elain tightened her legs around his hips, puling him impossibly closer. The new angle had Lucien hitting the sensitive spot inside her, the one that inevitably led to her falling apart in his arms.

Pressure was building along Elain’s spine, dragging her closer. If Lucien’s shuddering breaths were any indication he was just as close.

Elain threaded her fingers through his hair, tangling the long, auburn strands. He buried his head in the crook of her neck, pressing a hot, opened mouth kiss against her skin, biting down lightly.

“Lucien I’m going to—“

“Yes,” Lucien cried, “yes, yes.” His pace was brutal, hips slamming against hers, the sound of skin on skin obscene in the otherwise silent library. “Come for me, wife.”

The word was Elain’s breaking point, pleasure cresting over her as she came. Lucien followed with a sharp slap of his hips, his release emptying into her.

Lucien waited until he was spent to slowly let her slide back down to the floor. Elain’s legs felt shaky beneath her and Lucien wrapped a hand around her waist, supporting her.

“I think,” Lucien said, pressing his lips against her cheek in a quick kiss. “That we should take this to the marital bed.”

“It might be more comfortable,” Elain agreed. She shrieked as Lucien hoisted her into his arms, bridal style.

“Then let me.”

Lucien kept her up for the rest of the night, until Elain could see sunlight just peaking out through the curtains.

She rose from the bed, throwing Lucien’s long abandoned shirt on to cover herself before she padded over to the window.

“May I?” she asked.

Lucien lifted a head from where he lay strewn out on the bed. “You can do whatever you please in your own house,” he declared fiercely.

It was all the confirmation she needed to throw the shutters open, light shining into their bedroom. She turned back around and gasped.

Lucien seemed to be glowing, the shine faint but undeniable.

“How—”

“Another gift from Helion,” Lucien said, rising up. His dark skin looked golden, shining and reflective. “His whole court apparently glows in the sun.”

Elain sat in his lap, wrapping her arms loosely around his neck. “I guess it’s lucky you were born in a court that only goes out at night.”

“I’m lucky I found someone willing to coax me into the light,” Lucien said.

And that’s how the two of them approached their first day as husband and wife, wrapped in each other’s arms.

#acotar secret santa 2022 #elucien #acotar #elucien fanfiction #elucien fanfic #elain x lucien #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #all the cool elucien writers gave Eris a love intrest #so I did too

56 notes · View notes