#and her and Jurian are SO SIMILAR

[lorcandidlucienwill]

Azriel is jealous of Lucien

Azriel is 100% jealous of Lucien and here is, in my opinion, why: 1. There's the obvious factor: he has a mate and Azriel does not (or so he thinks). He's jealous of Rhysand and Cassian for this but he still manages to be happy for them because they're his closest friends. But he perceives Lucien as this "outsider," yet he got a mate while Azriel did not. 2. Truthfully? Lucien and Azriel have many similarities, particularly when you consider their backstories. Both grew up in abusive households and have difficulty getting over females that are not their mates despite their conviction that they are (Jesminda and Mor). Both feel like outsiders, although it's wild that Azriel feels that way considering he has Rhys and Cass but whatever. They even both have scars as a result of unbearable cruelty. But while Azriel came out of that situation with unresolved anger issues and a tendency towards violence (as demonstrated during the High Lord's meeting) and a darkness to him, Lucien came out of that situation a gentleman, still managing to be kind and with an incredible amount of self-restraint and lightness to him (and typically opting for nonviolence). Azriel sees himself as a bad person and he resents the fact that Lucien still maintains himself as a good person despite it all. 3. Lucien was easily accepted as a part of the group as his true self (or that's what Azriel sees) while Azriel still feels like he can't be his true self. He admitted in the bonus chapter that he only lets Rhys see the full extent of his anger because Rhysand is the only one who can match it. So, he doesn't even show his full anger to Cassian or Feyre. And look at them during the solstice in ACOSF: Rhys sprawled in an armchair, and Cassian occupied a second armchair with Lucien leaning against it, arguing with them about something that seemed related to a sporting event.

vs Azriel: Azriel lingered near the door, quiet enough that when Feyre and Mor began talking about some of her paintings, Nesta went over to him.

Lucien, with his ability to talk with people, worked his magic on Rhysand and Cassian easily. Lucien, despite having to deal with the strain of the mating bond, is still managing to converse with them while their own best friend of centuries cannot bear the scent of Lucien's bond, even though the person most affected by it isn't him. 4. Azriel feels replaced by Lucien. He is the Inner Circle's spy, mainly, but he isn't good for much else if we're being honest. Lucien, on the other hand, can ALSO spy. Evidence: Lucien took a steadying breath, and I wondered—wondered if being emissary also meant being spymaster.

Apart from that, he has exceptional abilities with people. He was instantly seen working his magic when the IC was having difficulty working out a time and place for the High Lord meeting. He helped create the antidote for the faebane as well. Then there's Azriel's other use: being a warrior. Lucien is a warrior too. And he is so powerful that he was able to venture into the continent by himself where even Rhysand with all his power feared to tread and come back with a large army which was essential for their victory. And post-war, he is the one keeping Prythian together, along with his beloved older brother Eris. He had to give Lucien credit: the male was somehow able to move between his three roles—an emissary for the Night Court, ally to Jurian and Vassa, and liaison to Tamlin—and still dress immaculately. Then there is this from Azriel: “No. But we need to summon Lucien,” Azriel said, just a shade tightly, as if he didn’t like it one bit. Elriels take this to be about Elain, but I actually believe this is further evidence of his complete and utter jealousy. It pains him to admit that the IC needs Lucien even more than they already did. With Lucien's increased role, Azriel's role further diminishes in Az's eyes. So when Azriel says he thinks "Lucien will never be good enough for her?" He is projecting his own feelings onto Lucien. Deep down he knows that he is completely and utterly wrong for Elain and that Lucien is 100% right for her. When he says that he'd "Defeat Lucien with little effort?" In his mind, it's a chance to regain some of his worth. He perceives that his only value to the IC is his spying and warrior abilities. He wants to prove that Lucien can't replace him because Azriel is better at these things. But in reality, he can't possibly believe he'd defeat the male who dominated Cassian with one word with little effort. Because even if he wasn't there for that moment, he knows Lucien survived the continent. He knows everything Lucien has been through and has definitely sparred with the guy. And we know Rhys agreed with him to keep him from getting any angrier or more frustrated. The beef between Azriel and Lucien is soooo one-sided. Lucien thinks of him as a decent dude! These two could be best friends if Azriel got over his dumb jealousy. But I don't care; I'm a Lucien stan for life and you'd better start treating my man right. Going through trauma is NOT an excuse to choke people or challenge them to blood duels. Lucien has gone through plenty and he hasn't even lashed out at anyone, even though he'd be completely valid for doing so. Learn from Lulu, Az.

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

[lainalit]

Today's Subject: How You Can Tell That SJM Didn't Grow Up Poor

A quick Google search tells you that Sarah grew up on the upper west side of Manhattan. In a small comparison, in 2021, the Upper West Side had an average income of $130,000 per household as opposed to the entire US, which had an average income of $76,000 per household. With that being said, I think we can establish that SJM grew up in the upper middle class.

So with that in mind, we go over the conversation between Feyre and Lucien during Acofas.

“You could come live here, is all I’m saying,” I pushed. “Truly live here, stay in Velaris for longer than a few days at a time. We could get you nicer quarters—” Lucien got to his feet. “I don’t need your charity.”

So feyre says to lucien that instead of staying with vassa and jurian in Graysens Manor, he can stay in one of her manors, which on the surface seems nice, but as someone who grew up poor, just like Feyre, i can confidently say that no poor person gives a shit if one manor looks nicer than the other. As long as it's a decent house, it's warm, and you have food and water, nobody gives a flying f*ck how it looks.

Lucien's reaction, on the other hand, makes sense because, like Sarah, he grew up in a wealthy household because he himself thinks that Graysens Manor is worth less since he can compare it to his past living situations.

“It seems like you’ve decided to fall in with two people without homes of their own as well.”

 I never in my life encountered a person, who grew up poor and shamed a friend for being homeless just because he has other friends and doesn't want to stay with them. Usually, people who come from low-income households don't like to talk about money or housing because these subjects could provide an opportunity to shame/attack them.

"I didn’t mean that,” I said. “You have a home here. If you want it.”

Feyre then goes back to offer help, but the whole conversation feyre flip flops between shaming lucien for being almost homeless and then offering to help in the next paragraph. This would be like a conservative politician who goes to food banks, but at the same time calling homeless people lazy human beings who don't want to work. 

I know that casual readers don't think about these subjects more than reading a fantasy smut book, but as someone who grew up in similar circumstances as Feyre, I think it is for an author who wants to be inclusive, so embarrassing that SJM can only write from her point of view and can't understand how others think and act, who grow up in a different upbringing than hers.

#SJM couldn't even bother to google some reports on how people who grew up poor navigate life #anti acotar #Couldn't she find one person who knows the struggle of poverty #acotar critical #sjm critical #acotar thoughts #anti sjm #anti feyre #acotar

[starsreminisce]

Antis like to highlight that Lucien lives with Vassa, conveniently ignoring Jurian, as if Azriel doesn't reside with Nesta and Cassian.

However, it was Bryce who felt as though she was intruding on an intimate moment between Nesta and Azriel, whereas we haven't encountered similar descriptions regarding Lucien and Vassa.

Even when Vassa discussed having to return to Koschei, there weren't any indications of intimacy between her and Lucien.

Lucien never embraced Vassa, didn't defend her against Jurian's teasing, and their interactions were primarily focused on engaging conversations. In fact, Lucien blushed while looking at Elain when Feyre teased him about being Vassa's acolyte.

After the battle, Lucien immediately sought out Elain, and during the subsequent meeting, he remained by her side. In ACOSAF, Mor hinted that Lucien and Elain weren't ready for a romantic relationship.

ACOSF unequivocally clarifies Lucien's feelings, positioning him clearly with Elain rather than Vassa, as emphasized within paragraphs of each other.

So, why are the brief interactions between Vassa and Lucien being misconstrued as romantic, while the interactions between Nesta and Azriel are perceived as platonic?

#elucien #antielriel #antie/riel #antivassien #nezriel

[starborn15]

I was thinking of something while watching outlander.

As we know SJM loves outlander and you can find small pieces of it throughout her work. To me and many others Jamie is the most like Lucien and while watching season 3 finale it reminded me of something:

One of Elain’s visions:

“I can hear the sea, even at night even in my dreams. The crashing sea — and the screams of a bird made of fire.”

At the end of season 3 Jamie and Claire’s boat crashes and Claire is drowning and she’s thinking:

“I was dead. Everything around me was a blinding white. And there was a soft rushing sound like the wings of angels. I felt peaceful. And bodiless. Free of terror. Free of rage. Filled with a quiet happiness.”

Now, in an interview SJM mentioned how when she was thinking of ideas for Elain’s book she was gardening and tearing away at ivy and how the ivy would be “strangling” Elain at night because it doesn’t not want to let go. So this moment with Claire could parallel two moments; The cauldron experience for Elain, as she did not fight. Or if Elain ends up traveling with Lucien, Jurian and Vassa to Koschei and something similar occurs.

But Lucien isn’t a Bird of Fire?!

No he’s not; but his father is a bird of light, a light that countered that of Rhys’ darkness. Which brings me back to Claire’s speech; “everything around me was blinding white, soft rushing sound like wings of angels.”

It has been hinted at that Lucien does posses this magic: In Hybern, with Feyre in ACOWAR and in ACOSF with Cassian. His power being “Flame-Licked”

Which leads me to wonder if Elain is put in a similar position where her life is in danger again, will we see more of Lucien’s power? And this image is indeed Elucien because it mirrors the popular elucien image where the scared man is looking down at the female:

Also when Feyre, Rhys and Lucien all meet in the woods Feyre imagines a painting.

“The cunning fox stared down winged Death.”

In a lot of the art for elucien there is this theme of light, the moon, skulls, flowers, foxes. So it’s interesting to think about.

#elucien #outlander #sjmaas #sjm books #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #elain acotar #elain x lucien

[nikethestatue]

Yesterday, I saw a post by a very affronted Gwynriel saying how dare we think that Lucien and Vassa have more build up as a couple and are set up better than Gwynriel.

So let's take a look:

Azriel accidentally comes up on Gwyn being assaulted at Sangravah and obviously saves her

Lucien willingly decides to go and find Vassa, to 'make himself useful'. He ventures into the Human Lands, with barely any weapons, alone, to go on a quest that might lead nowhere.

Notice the difference between an accidental saving vs determination to go on a quest. ("I am getting her back" vibes, anyone? "Then you will die". "I am getting her back.")

Two years pass and even though Azriel presumably lives in HOW with Cassian most of the time, he never once bothered to inquire about Gwyn's well being or progress from Clotho, or even Mor/Rhys.

Lucien finds and befriends Vassa and returns with her for the final battle. Obviously she assists in the war.

Lucien, despite Elain's half-hearted invitation to come and stay in Velaris after the war, does not do that. He leaves.

Meanwhile, Azriel gets roped into training the priestesses by Cassian. Note that he does not volunteer, but simply agrees, and does not volunteer to train Gwyn. He never does. He only trains his own group of priestesses, most of whom have a crush on him.

The one person who is never mentioned to have a crush on him is Gwyn.

Meanwhile, it's mentioned how Lucien blushes in front of Vassa. (Similar how Azriel blushed in front of Elain).

At the same time, it's repeatedly stated how both Gwyn and Azriel think of her SA when they interact and how Cassian worried that Gwyn wouldn't want to be in Azriel's presence in the beginning.

At the first Solstice, we find out that Lucien opted to live in the Human Lands with Vassa and Jurian. They even have a name for themselves: Band of Exiles. Despite Feyre's invitation to stay in Velaris for Solstice and with Elain, Lucien opts to go back to his home/friends.

Azriel sees Gwyn every day once he starts training the priestesses. Per his own POV, all he thinks about is Elain. He is so enthralled by Elain that he avoids seeing her, because it torments him so much.

Lucien meanwhile, tells Cassian that 'he isn't in Velaris to see his mate' abruptly ending that conversation.

By the end of ACOSF, we have Lucien, finally fairly content and happy, living with Vassa and Jurian in the Human Lands.

We have Azriel being forbidden from seeing Elain romantically.

And we have Azriel and Gwyn being absolutely uninterested in each other, so much so that Azriel "I am getting her back' Shadowsinger who'd witnessed Gwyn being SAed, opts not to offer any type of assistance when Gwyn and the others are kidnapped and thrown into the Blood Rite. While Cassian is going crazy (though he knows that Nesta has incredible powers and has been trained the longest by him) Azriel has no qualms about going after Eris instead.

So, are we wrong to say that Lucien and Vassa are much more set up as a couple and allies than Azriel and Gwyn? No, no we are not. Actually, that's exactly what SJM has been setting up for Lucien since ACOMAF.

[oristian]

I want to explain my stance on each of the remaining couples as unbiased as I possibly can be. This will detail why I prefer certain ships over others.

ELUCIEN 🦊🦌🌻

— I have adored Elain and Lucien as a couple from the moment they became mates in ACOMAF. Their bond snapped immediately upon their eyes meeting, which is both the first we have seen of an immediate bond snapping, and also the first instance we have seen of both people in the pair knowing about the mating bond prior to the relationship. Their personalities are so similar, though both are currently muted due to their complex trauma responses. Their interests align and interlace with one another. Aesthetic wise, their relationship just merged so well in my head when I picture them. My own personal thoughts aside, the plot structure supports them as the endgame couple based on how carefully they’ve been placed in the Koschei arc. Elucien is regency coded and I can only imagine how beautiful their tension is going to be.

GWYNRIEL 🤍🖤💙

— I could tell pretty early on that they will become one of the endgame couples. SJM emphasized their specific interactions, exemplifying on banter and other characters picking up on both Azriel and Gwyn focusing their attention onto one another. The dynamic between them is based in equality and mutual respect, as they have both seen one another in moments that they hide from others and they still choose to face each other. They have such similar responses to trauma and their own inner reflections are very similar. I believe that Gwyn would challenge Azriel, which is what he needs in a relationship. The mate language used in the ACOSF bonus chapter from Azriel’s POV also points out that they are contenders for becoming endgame. Plot wise, ACOSF had so much symbolism and foreshadowing for Gwyn being tied to Dusk, and HOFAS further tied Azriel to the Dusk Court arc. I would love to see them teamed up on spy missions!

ELRIEL 🌷🦇🥀

— I completely understand why people ship Elain and Azriel—that is, until ACOSF. The aesthetic that Elriel offers is romantic and charged and I could even find myself enjoying this ship, if not for the plot arcs and the overwhelming potential of both Elucien and Gwynriel. Elriel has always read very flat to me, as if two people are being forced together in a scene without any build-up, or chemistry. I never felt the urge to read about them and I was very confused when I read the ACOSF Azriel bonus chapter and saw any sort of romantic undertones portrayed between them. A major turn off from this ship was the bonus chapter, as well. I was displeased with Azriel’s thoughts towards Elain and his objectification of her in his conversation with Rhysand. Had Azriel made it clear that he would have fought for Elain, or that he loved her, I could see myself leaning more towards this couple. The remaining plot also do not support Elriel as an endgame couple.

VASSIEN 🔥🐦‍🔥❤️‍🔥

— I do not understand this ship much at all, aside from the one line that Feyre uses in ACOWAR to title them the, “Lord of Fire and Bird of Flame.” I have always seen this couple being used as a way to cut a divide between Elain and Lucien, but there does not seem to be any romantic undertones between them. Vassa and Lucien read as platonic. As Elain and Lucien offer us the information that we need for the Koschei arc—and Elain can offer us the same information that Vassa can from her visions—we know that Vassa will not hold a book as a FMC. Vassa and Jurian have been set up to be endgame from the language used in the books—the same language that SJM uses across all books to describe her endgame couples.

#sjm is a gwynriel and elucien shipper #elucien #gwynriel #pro elucien #pro gwynriel #anti e/riel #anti vassien #vassian #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #lucien and elain #gwynriel endgame #gwyn and azriel #gwyn berdara #gwynriel supremacy #acotar #sjm #acowar #acomaf #acosf

[marshmellowrio]

Flight of the Night | Chapter 5

A/N: Enjoy the last part of this scene.

Word count: 1.3K

“What’s your story, then?” Cassian says with a jerk of his chin in Feyre’s direction.

She straightens. “I was born to a wealthy merchant family, with two older sisters and parents who only cared about their money and social standing. My mother died when I was eight; my father lost his fortune years later. He sold everything to pay off his debts, moved us into a hovel, and didn’t bother to find work while he let us slowly starve for years. I was fourteen when the last of the money ran out, along with the food. He wouldn’t work—couldn’t, because the debtors came and shattered his leg in front of us. So I went into the forest and taught myself to hunt. And I kept us all alive, if not near starvation at times, for five years. Until…everything happened.”

I sit back in my seat, letting the words sink in. She was so young, younger than I was while enduring a vaguely similar situation. Teaching herself to survive. A new-found respect for this young fae finds its way into my mind, she already had my respect after what I heard from Rhys, but this…she has earned our respect twice-over.

“You taught yourself to hunt. What about to fight?” Cassian breaks the silence as he braces his hands on the table. “Lucky for you, you’ve just found yourself a teacher.”

A small smile graces my lips. Cassian might be a born leader, but he’s such a passionate teacher as well. He’d do good teaching more than the odd apprentice once in a few hundred years.

“You don’t think it sends a bad message if people see me learning to fight—using weapons?” I almost scoff at Feyre’s words. Damn the Spring Court and their old ways of thinking. No female should be denied the chance to learn how to use her body to defend herself or others.

Mor’s voice is venomous enough to make me look at her. “Let me tell you two things. As someone who has perhaps been in your shoes before.” She continues as Feyre takes in the atmosphere in the room. “One, you have left the Spring Court. If that does not send a message, for good or bad, then your training will not, either. Two,” a flat hand is placed on the table, “I once lived in a place where the opinion of others mattered. It suffocated me, nearly broke me. So you’ll understand me, Feyre, when I say that I know what you feel, and I know what they tried to do to you, and that with enough courage, you can say to hell with a reputation.” Feyre’s eyes lift to mine as I nod at her. She needs to understand that no one will judge here, we all have our pasts, and we will all heal. “You do what you love, what you need.”

I see her consider, the way her eyes move away from Mor’s to stare at the table. Gears turning in that pretty little head of hers. She lifts her gaze to Cassian’s, “I’ll think about it.”

“Let me know if you need some help, oh mighty warrior.” I wink at Cassian, but it is Azriel that responds.

“No novice wants your help in combat, Lyss, you are brutal.” I pout at the statement, even more so as Cassian nods in agreement.

My hand raises to my heart, and a grin starts cracking through my innocent facade. “You wound me, Az.”

Feyre suddenly states to Rhys, “I accept your offer—to work with you. To earn my keep. And help with Hybern in whatever way I can.”

I raise my eyebrows in surprise, where did this come from?

“Good,” he merely replies. “Because we start tomorrow.”

I raise my eyebrows, while Feyre sputters. “Where? And what?”

Rhys interlaces his fingers and I recognise the more formal stature, we’re talking business now. “Because the King of Hybern is indeed about to launch a war, and he wants to resurrect Jurian to do it.”

My gaze snaps to Azriel, seeing him observing a very still Amren. When? When has he figured this out?

“Bullshit,” Cassian spits. “There’s no way to do that.”

Mor groans, “Why would the king want to resurrect Jurian? He was so odious. All he liked to do was talk about himself.”

“That’s what I want to find out,” Rhysand says in return. “And how the king plans to do it.”

“Word will have reached him about Feyre’s Making. He knows it’s possible for the dead to be remade.” Amren contributes her thoughts.

“All seven High Lords would have to agree to that,” Mor counters. “There’s not a chance it happens.”

“If there’s one way, there is bound to be another way.” I say in response.

Mor continues after nodding at me, “All the slaughtering—the massacres at temples. You think it’s tied to this?”

“I know it’s tied to this. I didn’t want to tell you until I knew for certain. But Azriel confirmed that they’d raided the memorial in Sangravah three days ago. They’re looking for something—or found it.” Azriel nods in confirmation and shrugs at Mor when she looks at him.

“That—that’s why the ring and the finger bone vanished after Amarantha died. For this. But who…” Feyre breathes out. “They never caught the Attor, did they?” I shiver at the dread in her voice, another creature she had to face while still human. I can almost feel her pain.

“No. No, they didn’t.” Rhys says quietly, as if not to scare her off. He turns to Amren, “How does one take an eye and a finger bone and make it into a man again? And how do we stop it?”

Amren frowns. “You already know how to find the answer. Go to the Prison. Talk to the Bone Carver.”

I suck in a breath and I hear Cassian and Mor utter in unison. “Shit.”

“Perhaps you would be more effective, Amren.” Rhys says calmly, cornering a beast.

Amren only hisses back, “I will not set foot in the Prison, Rhysand, and you know it. So go yourself, or send one of these dogs to do it for you.” Cassian grins back, earning a snap of Amren teeth in return.

Azriel shakes his head at the two. “I’ll go with Lyssa. The Prison sentries know me—what I am. And he likes Lyssa’s gifts.” I clench my teeth as he avoids my gaze, he knows I don’t like being volunteered for something I don’t trust. And the Bone Carver it ranked quite high on that list.

“If anyone’s going to the Prison,” Rhys says before I can deny Azriel’s proposal, “it’s me. And Feyre.”

“What?” Mor demands, hitting her palms flat on the table, leaning her weight on them.

“He won’t talk to Rhys,” Amren says to us, “or to Azriel. Or to any of us. He might like the gifts Lyssa leaves him, but we’ve got nothing to offer him. An immortal with a mortal soul however…” She stares at Feyre. “The Bone Carver might be willing indeed to talk to her.”

All of our gazes turn to the young immortal in question, assessing her next move.

“Your choice, Feyre” Rhys says casually. And I believe him, if she says no, we’ll find another way. We will all try.

“How bad can it be?” Her response shows she has no idea what she’s up against in this immortal world.

“Bad,” Cassian only says.

A/N: Let me know what you thought in the comments! If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know!

Taglist: @inloveallthetime @mybestfriendmademe @blackgirlmagicforever

#acotar #acotar imagine #acomaf #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #acotar x oc #acotar x reader #azriel #cassian #rhysand #feyre #feyre acotar #high lord rhysand #general cassian #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #cassian acotar #flight of the night #acotar series #rhys acotar

[yaralulu]

The thought of lucien standing at feyre’s doorstop with two gifts in his arms,smiling as he wants to surprise her for winter solstice,only to be met with so much disdain and hostility will always break my heart.I can talk about their conversation in acofas for hours because it is such a defining moment in their friendship.

Just in that one conversation,lucien revealed so much about his feelings regarding elain,the night court,tamlin,the spring court,vassa and jurian—all these things that him and feyre have never really had the chance to talk about until now.He was being open and vulnerable only for feyre to be rude and bitchy.

Feyre’s inability to read the room and understand that not everything revolves around her and the night court was so evident in this conversation.She couldn’t begin to fathom why lucien wouldn’t want to stay in velaris even when he was actively explaining why.She was jealous that he made new friends and found a new home because how could they be better than her and the night court.Lucien told feyre about “the band of exiles”so that she’d see that not only are the three of them similar but they’re close enough to joke about it.He let her in on an inside joke between him and his friends because he wanted her to understand. Feyre somehow completely missed the point and started mocking lucien and was a huge asshole for no reason.She then called lucien homeless as if she’s not the very reason he no longer has a home and couldn’t even bring herself to apologize or feel bad about what she did even after he expressed how much it was affecting him.I mean the whole thing was such a hard read because lucien,god bless him,was genuinely trying and feyre was just being so difficult.Feyre needs to go on an apology tour with her first stop being lucien.He has always been and will always be the better friend 🤗.

#who gave me permission to speak this much #but like i could sit here and analyze every single line #bc the whole thing was just so ouch #feyre’s age really shows in moments like these #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #lucien vanserra #lucien acotar #pro lucien vanserra #acofas #feyre critical

[acourtofthought]

Acosf was released as Nesta and Cassian's book. I think if Vassa and Lucien happens it would be released similar way. And I think Vassa would be brought up in important scenes in acotar5 enough times that by the time we finished the book it would be obvious to the readers that her book (with Lucien) is next.

You truly believe that don't you?

That Vassa, cursed human who wants to reclaim her human body and her human kingdom and who is currently leading the humans on a slice of human land left ungoverned for too long alongside Jurian who she's often at his throat will become a future High Lady of the Fae alongside Lucien?

With that logic than why can't Elucien be next and Gwyn receives more build up in the next book so she becomes the focus of the one after, with Az playing a secondary role?

Or.....you could just finally admit that SJM has used a male character to kick off a particular journey, eventually building up to his female love interest being the one to save the day when you consider the synopsis of Tower of Dawn. It was Chaol's personal journey that pushed his book forwards and that led to the introduction of Yrene so there is no reason to think that Az's journey can't be what triggers the events of his own book with Gwyn ending up the one who shines.

#elucien #gwynriel #anti e/riel #anti vassien

[the-darkestminds]

I’ve seen E/riel’s say > “that Elucien’s (book) theories all revolve around Lucien and not Elain (like how Gwynriel’s theories revolve around Azriel & not Gwyn), because she needs to leave the NC & her family to find herself and become her own person. She needs to leave her friends Nuala and Cerridwen who played a pivotal part in her healing. The rejected mating bond that's been hinted at has nothing to do with Elain. It has to do with Lucien's parents, Helion and Lady Autumn. A rejected mate bond would be a huge storyline for any book but it's going to be a side plot with the side characters involved in Lucien's storyline. Who cares about Elain being a seer or a spy when she can play the socialite trophy wife to Lucien the grand Emissary and High Lord. She can mingle and plan parties and be pretty and charming at balls because apparently she's a giant extrovert (which we have not seen). For all this discourse around an E/riel book being bad for Elain because Azriel would be the focus and not Elain, I have yet to see a plot for an elucien book that centers on Elain and not Lucien. So I find it hard to believe they actually care about Elain, when she seems like nothing more than a means to an end to give the poor ginger cinammon roll Lucien the story and ending they think he deserves. That Elain is expected to live with Jurian, who was directly responsible for her being Made, and be neighbors with Graysen. Because her mate decided that it was totally appropriate for him to be friends with both of those specimens.”

E/riel’s are acting as if we’re saying Elain needs to forget her family and she’ll never get to visit them. Feyre literally called Elain a pleasant companion and the wraith twins are being paid by Feysand to spend time with Elain. It’s literally canon. I’ve seen many Elucien’s discuss theories on Elain and her seer abilities. Her taking down Koschei, involved with Vassa, fixing/healing Spring Court. Elain being a spy doesn’t make sense given the characterization of her character. Elain does give off high society vibes. She danced and personally greeted each guest at balls. Nesta said that Elain used to enjoy balls and parties. Elain who could convince anyone to do anything with a few smiles. I do believe that Elain is an extrovert, but she’s traumatized (understandably) after being thrown into the Cauldron and everything else. I’ve never seen an Elucien call Elain a trophy wife. It’s like E/riel’s are putting words in our mouths.

I’ve seen E/riel’s talk about how Elain is so similar to Mor: bright, extroverted. But then they change it to Elain being in introvert then back to her being an extrovert, or how she’s an ambivert. They constantly change her personality and the theories about her character/their “forbidden romance” ship. If Lucien chose to live in Velaris, I could see E/riel’s throwing a fit. “He’s stalking/harassing her!” But then they criticize him for not putting in “enough effort”.

And Gwynriel’s have come up with so many theories/story arcs about Gwyn outside of Azriel. Her wielding Gwydion, her possibly finding Narben, her research on other worlds, working through her trauma, using her invoking stone, leaving the library, her sisters death.

I see this all this time anon!! Such a popular argument among Elriels that all of the stuff with Koschei and Beron and Spring all focus on Lucien and not Elain. But I don’t see it that way. I think Elriels think this because they believe Elain is happy and thriving in the Night Court. They have a difficult time imagining a scenario in which Elain leaves the NC to discover her true purpose and what she wants out of her immortal life. And I guess yeah, if Elain were truly content it would seem silly for her to leave. But is Elain’s destiny really to live in the background of Feyre’s life? No, of course not. Just like it wasn’t Nesta’s to fill whatever role Feyre could come up with once the wall came down in ACOWAR. Each sister has her own unique journey. I think it’s crazy to suggest that the mating bond between Elain and Lucien is some minor issue. This is a huge deal in sjm books, as she has made clear many times. It’s part of Elain accepting herself as Fae, coming to terms with the loss of her human fiancé and the life she imagined for herself, that she can still have an epic love despite having lost her first love. Lucien can help her do that because he’s suffered something similar. I think right now we are not seeing Elain at her best, based on what we know about how she was as a human. She could charm anyone with a single smile, beloved by everyone she meets, a ray of sunshine, etc. Is this what we see from Elain right now? No. So just because we don’t know exactly what the plot will entail doesn’t mean it’s Lucien-centered. (Although I love Lucien so much I am dying for him to at least get 50% of the POV of the next book!) I have never seen any Elucien theory reduce Elain to being a “trophy wife” so that definitely sounds made up!

Minor HOFAS Spoilers ahead!

As far as Gwyn goes, I think it’s very obvious how much more she and Azriel have in common. They both have intense trauma, they both suffer from feelings of not being worthy of love, they are both tied to the Illyrian plotline via the blood rite, they both have a connection to the multiverse (Azriel due to his interactions with the Asteri and Gwyn with her research into multiple worlds with Merrill). Add in the bonus chapter and I think it’s pretty obvious where things are headed 🤷‍♀️

Also side note, what did they expect Jurian to do to stop the king of Hybern? Jurian is a hero who has likely seen more horrors than probably any other character considering he lived as an eyeball for 500(?) years and had to watch every horrific thing Amarantha did. I think implying he’s some evil asshole is so silly. Jurian is awesome. 😤

#anon you bring up the best points #thank u #my anons are so smart #pro elucien #hofas spoilers #elucien #gwynriel #pro gwynriel #anti e/riel #anti elriel

[ae-neon]

Idk if you like unsolicited opinions in your inbox but I desperately need to be heard, and I know you also have opinions on rewriting these books so here goes nothing (this is a ramble and also kinda long, so don’t come for my grammar thanks and my bad lol). If I were the author, I would have made this story (the first book at least) about love. Much like the original one is, but a different one.

Amarantha loved her sister dearly, and her sister loved a human. Then, her sister was killed by that human (if I’m remembering the facts correctly). And Amarantha, who loved no one and nothing but her sister, drowned in her grief. She sought revenge against Jurian, but that wasn’t enough. Just killing him wasn’t enough. She had to carve a hole in his heart, one that could match the one he had carved onto hers. So she sets her visions on the lands south of the wall. The human lands, which he so desperately had wanted to protect. Humans that, just like Jurian, can only ever lie and have never loved anything in their lives as much as she loved her sister. She feels justified in her anger towards the humans in this way.

BUT, the fae cannot lie (bcs they’re the fae) and their vows are binding. The humans and fae have an agreement: that the fae keep to the north of the wall and the humans to the south.

Amarantha knows she can’t just waltz into prythian and go over the wall, because she’s fae and the vow extends to her. She doesn’t have to uphold that agreement, but the high lords do, and they would never allow her to break their (and their predecessor’s) word.

So she tricks them. She’s a diplomat, an ambassador, until she reveals herself to be an enemy, but by then it’s too late and they are under her curse.

But tamlin, whose mother was a human who sang by the wall and enchanted his father, argues against amarantha’s reasons: he says humans can love truthfully, just like she loved her sister, and he is living proof of that.

So amarantha makes a deal. If he can prove her wrong, then the curse is broken. If a human, who has every reason to hate a fae, comes to love one, then he wins.

And things go in a similar way to the originals story, except towards the end.

Even if feyre had gone utm with tamlin and proclaimed her love for all to hear, amarantha would simply say she’s lying, because it is in a human’s nature to lie, and their words can never be trusted. But she extends a different challenge for feyre to prove herself.

And amarantha is smart. She’s a war general, she has lived for centuries, she has made every high lord bend to her will. She wouldn’t give a simple riddle to a human. At the very least, she would challenge her to a duel. Because there’s no way feyre’s scrawny ass can even lift a sword, much less fight a centuries-old general.

And they fight, and amarantha plays with and taunts feyre, because she enjoys being proven right.

But then, nesta and elain show up. They’ve come to save their sister, because despite it all, they still love each other, and nothing will change that (their relationship and the matters of helping around the house are also changed in this version so).

Amarantha is furious. Not because they showed up, but because she has been proven wrong. Because all it took for her to realize that humans can love truthfully is for the archeron sisters to show her. Because she sees in them the same love she held for her own sister.

And in her rage, she deals the final blow to feyre. But that does nothing, because she knows, deep in herself, even if she doesn’t speak it, that she was wrong, and humans can love truthfully and deeply, and the curse is broken.

She fights and fights, but in the end she dies, and there’s a sort of relief as she goes, because now there’s no more holding the weight of grieving wherever she goes. Now she can see her sister again.

Feyre is reborn and all that jazz.

But in the end, it was not her love for tamlin (or amarantha’s) that drove the story, but the love between sisters and their unbreakable bonds. It was not because or for a man, but because of sisters and other women.

(Riceman also doesn’t really pay a big part is this version, but then again his cannon self is insufferable. If he were to be here, he would be very different).

And maybe feyre doesn’t go back to the spring court to marry tamlin, and she doesn’t get dragged around by men so she can be a part of the plot. Maybe it’s her own determination to reverse the fae rebirth, to become human again and live as she lived with her sisters south of the wall, that drives the plot forward as she searches for a way (and stumbles upon tales of the cauldron and its powers and second book stuff).

Oh Anon you've hurt and healed me 💚

You and anyone who knows my blog, know I can go on and on about fixing this series and I love everything you just said

[In the still MIA rewrite, I have planned to have Amarantha working on bringing Clythia back, compounded with her unnatural immortality - she starts obsessing and losing her mind]

Also I am forever maintaining my Amarantha was the Queen of Hybern theory - I'm convinced Amarantha was the series original overarching antagonist and that Rhysand was originally the evil High King.

Because just like you said, it's about women and sisterly love. Feyre was supposed to be the hero and Amarantha was supposed to be the villain

Instead, for the sake of a bad romance, they get replaced by men and suddenly it's Rhysand Vs The King of Hybern

The nameless KoH had no reason to turn Nesta and Elain into Fae but Amarantha would if she were trying to prove a point. If she were trying to prove to even just herself that human hatred overruled their love, then turning the people Feyre loved most into Fae would make sense

Instead we get KoH creating two god level creatures to form a (fake) alliance with other humans...even though he wants to enslave humans... and then he immediately loses these two living nuclear weapons to the people he had no trouble incapacitating without even getting up from his chair... IT MAKES NO FUCKING SENSE

Even Jurian's resurrection is more tied to Amarantha and Feyre than it is to the King of Hybern and Rhysand.

#anon asks #anti sjm #anti her shit books too

[lorcandidlucienwill]

Vassa

I see quite a few people who ship Lucien with Vassa and ask why Lucien stans want Lucien with someone who doesn't want him (Elain) so I just wanted to address this: 1. We don't actually have any confirmation Elain doesn't want Lucien. Is she avoiding him? Yes. But that's because she's running from her problems, the mating bond on the top of her list. When she was begging for Graysen to take her back (barf), she still managed to say "His name is Lucien." Am I really supposed to believe she hates him? Nesta was avoiding Cassian too but it's canon that she still wanted him. But she didn't want the mating bond. Elain is similar in this way. And going after Azriel is an easy way to avoid her problems. She has had a ton of time to reject the bond and hasn't, which is telling.

2. It may seem superficial to think about, but Vassa is a human. Lucien is immortal. There is no way for this to work unless Lucien bounds his life to hers like Lorcan, and I just don't see that happening, because Lucien is destined to play a bigger role in Prythian which would really make binding his life to a human's unfeasable. 3. Neither Lucien nor Vassa is interested. Lucien is canonically seen to be looking at Elain with longing at the end of ACOSF. "Cassian’s heart strained at the pain etching deep into Lucien’s face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing." And I'm pretty sure Vassa is into Jurian (a pairing that makes sense since they're both human)

“And Jurian and Vassa?” “At each other’s throats, as they like to be,” he said, a tad sharply.

Vassa rolled her eyes, then looked to Lucien, who sank onto the sofa beside Jurian. Like the Fae male had settled similar arguments between them before. Sounds like Lucien is the middle man between Jassa. 4. Vassa is not like Jesminda. Yes, they're both described as wild, but Jesminda's was described as a carefree, joyful spirit whereas Vassa's wild is described as warriorlike. Besides, being similar to somebody you did love doesn't mean you're going to fall in love with them too. 5. I think people underestimate the depth of Lucien's love for Jesminda. In this way, Lucien's story is kind of similar to Rowan's, only Rowan was hoodwinked by a spell. Lucien, on the other hand, loved Jesminda so much he genuinely believed she was his mate. The only kind of love that could ever compare to that is his true mating bond, which in Faelore makes marriage seem insignificant. Rowan, too, could never get over Lyria until he met his true mate, Aelin. 6. I'll be the first to admit I'm disappointed with Elain thus far. But it is canon that we haven't seen all Elain has to offer yet. And I believe once she gets her head out of her ass she'll be perfect for Lucien. For one, they're both excellent speakers, despise violence, have been constantly underestimated and frankly disrespected by the IC, both lost their first loves in a painful manner (I know Elain's love isn't dead, but he might as well be), were both ripped from their homes and forced to settle in a place where they're not very comfortable. 7. Only when Lucien arrived did Elain start to eat properly. Only when Lucien was there did Elain show her powers. Only when Lucien was there did she start to come out of her shell. Lucien was the only one who actually understood what she needed. I don't give a shit if Azriel discovered her seer powers; that doesn't make him a mate in any way. Understanding her power doesn't constitute understanding her. By this same token, you could say Lucien understood that Nesta's power was a cold fire first. Mates! Actually there's more evidence in favor of this since Sarah had originally made the two of them mates lol. Nesta asked Elain what she wanted and she said Sunshine. And it was constantly said that the Spring court would be perfect for Elain. Guess who is the heir to the Day Court and has serious connections with the Spring Court. Yes! Lucien Spell-Cleaving Vanserra! 8. Have you SEEN the elucien fanart??? You expect me not to ship them after seeing it?? I'm pretty sure Vassien was created so that people could get rid of Lucien in favor of Ewriel anyway.

#lucien vanserra #pro lucien vanserra #band of exiles #the band of exiles #jassa #elucien #pro elucien #lucien spell cleaver #high lord lucien #elain archeron #ewriel

[stargirlie25]

something that I find interesting is that all acotar couples have some kind of slogan going on which resembles the connection between them.

Feysand: To the Stars who listen and to the dreams that are answered.

This obviously resembles how they are both dreamers and how feyre loved the stars her whole life.

Nessian: keep reaching out your hand.

This is cassian telling Nesta so long as she keeps reaching out her hand, she will find peace and that he is always on the other end to hold her

Now the controversial ones

Gwynriel: your the new ribbon az

This is when nesta told az he is gwyns new ribbon. As in, her new challenge. Something she plans to break free and uncover. Nes said that remember when gwyn was WITH the ribbon and now az is the new one. It could be the fact that while Az heals,She would be with him every step of the way kind of dynamic. We know rhys and cassian don't bother with az about himself but Gwyn could considering we figured out small details in th BC.

Elucien: I can hear you're heart.

As a elucien shipper I firmly believe once Elain opens up to lucien fully, he will Hear her heart. We see in velaris Cass finds elain to be out of place in the NC, az is prominent about staying away and avoiding her like a plague. Feyre said she prefers mo and amren and wouldn't Idealy go to elan for advice. Nesta is now closer to the valkyries. Then their is lucien. Silently waiting for her. Even if he ant hear her heart I believe they can hear each other like they understand the struggle of feeling left out. Like home is a person dynamic.

Jassa: vassa and jurian are two sides of the same coin

This is really just makes me giggle tbh. But like also, without much similarities I bet they'd understand each other so well and would probably be the couple with the most easy going nature.

#pro gwynriel #anti elriel #elucien #gwynriel #pro elain #pro elucien #pro gwyn #acotar #anti e/riel

[starsreminisce]

“Elain is overwhelmed by crowds.” “She didn’t used to be that way.” Nesta swirled her glass of amber liquid. “She loved balls and parties.” The words hung unspoken. But you and your court dragged us into this world. Took that joy away from her.

He assured me that he hated the gatherings as much as I did, and that Lucien was the only one who really enjoyed himself, but … I caught Tamlin grinning sometimes.

It’s taken me a while to realize just how much foreshadowing is in ACOSAF.

We get Feyre’s reasoning for wanting a kid after she said that she wanted to experience life with just her and Rhys.

Cassian’s and Nesta’s dynamic was explored further where we see how Cassian kept trying to reach out his hand to Nesta, who is struggling with post-Hybern, and she ended up training with him and coming into her powers.

So what does this mean for Elucien?

Lucien said that he didn't want to inconvenience Feysand further by staying at the townhouse and didn't want to be isolated at the House of Wind. Lucien even left to live with Vassa and Jurian because of how good friends they were becoming, so he does prefer to be with people.

I wonder if Lucien will fuss at Feyre about the lack of Night Court parties, especially with only Hewn City providing them during his two-week period at the townhouse. He might notice how Elain hangs on his words, as Lucien reminisces about the balls and parties he's attended in the mortal lands and other courts now that society has opened up again. Elain might get so caught up in the idea of experiencing that joy again that she forgets who she's asking.

I hope these two will kickstart their relationship because of something they both enjoy doing, as opposed to Feyre and Nesta's connection, which was driven by trauma. Just that 'I like this...' 'oh me too!' kind of energy, and they realize they're mates because they are similar.

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

[separatist-apologist]

Throw Me To The Flames

You could drag me through hell if it meant I could hold your hand

Summary: Elain only ever meant to deliver a message to Vassa on behalf of her sister's court. She never intended to see Lucien.

And she CERTAINLY didn't mean to get in the way of a knife that was only ever meant for his chest.

Kidnapped, and dragged helpless to the continent, the two will have to work together if they want to survive.

Note: HAPPY HOLIDAYS to my BEST @acotargiftexchange, @fieldofdaisiies

I hope you enjoy this as much as I have enjoyed hanging out with you!!!

Chapter 1/7

Elain took a breath, squared her shoulders, and knocked. She ignored the look from the very human gardener just as she’d done as she’d marched up the stone drive. Human faces everywhere. Ones that might have recognized her, had they ever attended a party at her fathers once palatial estate. She’d been told it had fallen to ruin for a time, until some wealthy merchant scooped it up. More land for a human she’d never meet. 

Elain kept her eyes on that wooden door, listening to the familiar heartbeat just on the other side. It wasn’t his footsteps coming to the door. Small mercies, she told herself. Elain didn’t think she could face him.

The door opened, revealing the face of another human servant. That surprised her. Feyre had said Queen Vassa lived alone. She’d expected to see her, maybe Jurian. She’d pass along her message, ask for a room for the evening, and be gone before she ever saw her mate. 

“May I help you?” the human asked, dragging wide blue eyes over the lilac gown she’d chosen. Elain swallowed, eyes closing slowly when the clipped steps of the very man she hadn’t wanted to see filled her senses.

“Elain?”

His voice ripped through her like a canon, reducing her to little more than a trembling mess. If she looked, instinct would all but beg her to touch him. Elain clenched her fists at her side, furious with Lucien as he dismissed the servant. Her eyes focused on his immaculate black boots set against the herringbone pattern of the wood beneath them. 

“Did you come to stare, then?” he asked cooly. Elain’s eyes snapped to his face, her temper rising in her chest. She had to swallow to smother it, holding the metal and russet gaze looking back at her. She ignored the vicious gouges cut against his eye and cheek, wrecking what had likely once been a truly beautiful face. 

Not anymore. 

“I have a message from Feyre,” Elain informed him, just as she’d rehearsed when Cassian had brought her over. Lucien crossed muscular arms over his broad chest in a green jacket all too similar to the one she had folded in a box just beneath her bed. 

“Oh?”

“For Queen Vassa,” Elain added, refusing to pass it along to him. Lucien cocked his head, a tendril of auburn hair fluttering over the golden brown of his skin. He’d tied it back, but she remembered how he’d looked on the battlefield. Blood splattered and clothes tattered, his long hair tangled around his face.

She almost liked him that day. 

Lucien shrugged. “She’s not in until nightfall.”

Elain took one step forward, only for Lucien to snap the door in her face. She stared, blinking with surprise. Had he…had he truly shut her out? Gathering herself, Elain knocked again, waiting until Lucien swung the door back open.

“Yes?” he asked. 

She didn’t know what to say. He was so infuriatingly calm, as if he’d done nothing rude at all. She swallowed again, resisting the urge to call him a bastard. 

“You intend for me to stand outside all evening?” she asked instead. Lucien cocked his head, accessing her with his cool gaze.

“Is that not your preference? This is my home, after all.”

“I…” she didn’t know how to answer him. Lucien nodded, as if to say that’s what I thought, and made to slam the door again. Elain caught it with her hand, wood stinging against her palm. She looked around at the humans, certain they would harm her if they could.

Lucien, irritating as ever, tried to prompt her into speaking by raising his eyebrows. She could practically hear his infuriating voice say, Well?

“May I wait inside?” she asked him, hating how timid and small her voice sounded. 

Lucien offered her a long-suffering sigh for her trouble. “If you must.”

Elain swallowed a breath of warm summer air, forcing herself to just let it all go. He didn’t like her and she didn’t like him. It was ridiculous how much it annoyed her that Lucien didn’t, though. Everyone liked her and always had. Lucien had, perhaps, tried, just she’d always seen the gleaming distrust in that one good eye of his. 

Elain was tired of swallowing the humiliation that was Lucien. She hadn’t asked for him. Didn’t want him. He didn’t want her…it should have made things simple. A polite no thank you ought to have been enough. Elain always swore she was going to just the next moment she saw him.

And then the scent of him would slam into her chest, filling her with yearning. She’d see him, all wrong with his long hair, his muscular frame, his rakish, half-ruined good looks—at least when the light struck him just right— and Elain wavered. 

Lucien glanced over his shoulder at her, lips pressed into a thin line. Guiding her through the wide halls, he ignored what might have been a rather elegant sitting room had there not been a garish pink couch seated along a far, brick wall. The colors clashed unforgivably, making a room that was otherwise beautiful so, so ugly.

It was an apt metaphor for the man before her. Not that Elain would ever dare say so. Still, it felt unfair to her at times that she was saddled with him while her sisters had been given lovely males. She didn’t want him to catch her staring, given it was the scarred side of his countenance that faced her. She’d never been brave enough to ask what he had done to earn such a vicious wound. Something so terrible his magic had been unable to heal. She’d seen Azriel’s shredded wings patched up twice. Had watched Cassian’s innards replaced without a scratch to his person. 

And then Lucien, who bore the marks of the violence like some strange badge of honor. 

She turned her eyes back to her feet, mapping the dark wood below. He took her to a winding staircase, his broad hand gliding up the rail. Elain didn’t argue, strangely grateful he was offering her a room instead of forcing her to sit on that sofa all day.

“You didn’t bring anything with you,” he noted, keeping his eyes on the gold floral leaf that papered the walls. 

Elain only nodded. To say anything else was to betray what was happening at home. To give him insight into the Night Court she didn’t think Feyre wanted him to have, given her parting words.

“Be careful what you share with him. He can pick your words apart to find the truth.”

And what would Lucien find? A family still at odds? That no matter how Elain tried to fit into her sister's home, her sister's court, there was no room for her. She’d made herself useful, had learned to cook and clean as penance for the years in the cabin. Elain had tried to find a different partner, too, hadn’t she? Surely Feyre and Rhys would soften if she was with Azriel?

Of course, that required Azriel to want her and given their disastrous near kiss on Solstice, Elain knew she’d miscalculated on that front as well. She was out of place in their Court of Nightmares so laughably that none of the denizens under the mountain took her seriously.

And out of place in the Court of Dreamers, too. No one noticed her there, either. She was only good for her connection to Lucien, given Elain had been trying to help use the magic the Cauldron had given her all year. Someone kept overriding her, kept her trapped in that estate, and Elain was desperate to know who. And why. 

She had it narrowed down, at least. Nesta, Azriel, and Rhysand. She was tempted to scratch Rhys off the list after Feyre had cornered her that morning demanding she give Lucien a message. Feyre did nothing if Rhys didn’t know and approve. Nesta was up at the House of Wind and Azriel on some other assignment, leaving only Amren and Mor to witness Elain’s plaintive—and ultimately successful—bid to take the job.  

And Cassian, of course, to apologetically drop her off before she could pack even a nightdress. As if Feyre thought Elain would climb out a window and run away. She wanted to go and had thought Lucien would still be in Spring. 

The sound of a creaking door dragged Elain back to the present. Lucien remained in the doorway, offering her a rather plain, beige room. Nothing overly large—she was clearly not a favored guest given there wasn’t even a bathing chamber inside. Just a four-poster bed draped in uninviting white and flanked by two wooden side tables. A cedar chest across the bed for whatever things she might have brought with her—if she’d even had time.

Elain turned to look at Lucien lounging against the frame, one booted leg crossed over the other. “Why are you really here, Elain?” he asked her. A muscle worked furiously in his jaw, marking his displeasure. 

“To see Vassa,” Elain replied, holding his gaze. 

Lucien looked as if he wanted to call her a liar, as if it took great effort not to say everything he was thinking. 

“A letter wouldn’t have sufficed?” he questioned. Had she liked him, Elain might have agreed. He was watching her like he always did, with those shrewd eyes that told her she wasn’t the only one seeing him in her dreams.

“I didn’t come to see you, Lucien. Just as you don’t always come to Velaris to see me.” His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, though she couldn’t ascertain the reason. Perhaps he was working to settle his temper, to keep him from saying something unbearably cruel. Elain didn’t think she could handle it, could feel tears rising up her throat despite how angry she was. She’d cry and he’d think her foolish. 

“Great,” he finally said, his tone utterly devoid of emotion. “Make use of the house as it suits you.”

Lucien spun on his heel, leaving her alone in that miserable little room. In some ways, it was no different than Night, except at least her room in Velaris was filled with her things. Her books, her clothes, her amusements. None of that was here. Just her, just Lucien. She’d be damned if she hung out in bed all day, and decided that perhaps this was a chance to show off her worth. This was not just Lucien’s home, but Jurian and Vassa’s, too. Secrets likely lingered everywhere. If she could find something valuable to take back to Feyre and Rhys, they might be more willing to trust her. 

At the very least, they might be more willing to include her without her needing to beg. 

Elain took one step on the bottom landing before she all but slammed into Lucien again. He held a sandwich in one hand, his face graced with an infuriating smirk. 

“Hungry?” he asked, offering her his food of which a crescent had been bitten from. 

“No, thank you,” Elain replied. He was ridiculous. 

“Can I give you a tour?” he asked, his voice rich with amusement. As if Lucien had guessed her plan on sigh and the whole thing was funny to him. “Perhaps of my office?”

Elain was surprised he had one. In her mind, she imagined Lucien lounging about like the human lords she’d known. An eldest son would have taken on the family books but the youngest sons were typically spoiled little beasts that spent their days drowning in cups and chasing skirts. 

“You have an office?” she asked stupidly. She was so bad at speaking to him. Lucien always had the advantage given how little she affected him. He was never at a loss for words. 

“As I just said,” was his infuriating reply. “Perhaps you’ll find some hidden secrets? A list of all my many crimes?”

He was mocking her. He’d read her intentions and he found her ridiculous. Just like everyone else. Elain forced herself to only breathe, to turn away from him to look at the sitting room behind her. That awful couch beckoned, a light cutting through the darkness of her misery. She walked towards it, steps wooden, only to plop on the deceptively soft cushion.

Perhaps function could override style on occasion. 

Lucien remained in the entryway, eating his sandwich obnoxiously. “You really won’t tell me your message?” he asked, cocking his head. The tail of his hair spilled over his shoulder, the ends curling gently against the gold embroidery of his chest.

“So you can shove me back out again?” she asked, not meaning for her words to sound so cold. Lucien raised his eyebrows. 

“If you have complaints about my behavior, feel free to direct them right here,” Lucien offered, pointing down the hall towards the door.

Ass. 

Elain smoothed out her skirt. Kill him with kindness, she decided. It was only a night. She merely needed to weather him long enough to give Vassa her message and then she’d be free. Cassian would come for her. 

“I appreciate the offer,” Elain told him primly, refusing to look at him even as he strode into the room, boots echoing off the ceiling over them. Lucien plopped himself into a chair, one ankle crossed over his knee, his hand gripping the black fabric arm. 

“Did they tell me you couldn’t trust me?” Lucien questioned, his mouth half filled with bread, cheese, and meat.

“Who says I require an education on who I can and cannot trust. I have eyes, do I not?”

Pink stained the brown of his cheeks. Lucien gripped the edge of the chair so tightly she could see the whites of his knuckles. It was almost a marvel, realizing she was under his skin like a splinter he couldn't rid himself of. 

“You–”

“Where is Jurian?” she interrupted, not caring to be insulted any further. Lucien’s metal eye narrowed alongside his good one, and she wondered what, exactly, he could see. 

Lucien exhaled a nosy breath. “Out.”

“I wanted to meet him,” she lied. Elain had no interest in Jurian at all. History had never been her best subject to start, but Jurian was something of a legend among humans. A warrior who’d taken on the fae themselves and brought them to their knees. It would have been a little fun, though, to fawn over one of Lucien’s friends, if only to annoy him.

“Oh?” he asked, tapping his foot loudly against the wood. 

Elain only shrugged, allowing them to lapse into an uncomfortable silence. Too much hung between them unsaid, and Elain had no intention of filling the gulf between them with her secrets. Lucien would never understand, besides. He was too busy being smug to ever be vulnerable, to hear her out.

And no matter what choice she made, they would be stuck with each other for an eternity. She’d never be freed of him, which made the prospect of being mated to him miserable. How long could she reasonably fight him? Before she gave up and gave in, and resigned herself to whatever terrible, loveless marriage she was destined for? A decade? Less? 

The thought wounded her. She’d been so fortunate to have a father that didn’t care to meddle in her romantic affairs. While her friends had been paired with men they loathed, Elain had been granted the freedom to choose for love. 

What had she gotten for her efforts? A body she didn’t understand, a home she didn’t belong to, and a man–male–-that couldn’t stand the sight of her, but would have still taken her if only to sooth the instinct roiling through him.

Elain was so lost in her momentary self-loathing that she’d forgotten she was still sitting in front of Lucien. He hadn’t, though. He watched her, head cocked as if trying to untangle the messy thoughts tumbling around her head. She wondered how much he could feel and how much he had guessed. 

“Elain—”

“Lord?” a human servant skittered into the room. She was young and wide-eyed like a newborn calf. Lucien looked over, his irritation plain. 

“Not now.”

“Please, lord.” Her voice trembled so badly that even Elain took notice. Lucien’s eyes slid from the servant to Elain, his brow furrowing ever so slightly.

“Is everything all right?” he questioned, rising to his feet. Elain recognized the human’s emotions the moment Lucien took a step towards her. She’d been one, once. She knew the fear the fae instilled in humans, how his casual grace would seem threatening to her dull senses. Elain stood, intending to protect the young woman from Lucien. 

“I…” her trembling voice trailed off in a squeak. Elain’s heart squeezed. She remembered feeling the same the first time she’d see Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel on her doorstep. They’d been massive, and winged to boot. Ferocious and grinning in that way that suggested perhaps she might become a meal. Feyre had been too wrapped up in her own inner world to truly notice, but right then, Elain saw too much of her former self in that servant.

She pushed ahead, slipping past Lucien to walk towards the girl. “It’s okay,” Elain told her, careful to keep her steps slow and her movements jerky. 

The girl shook carefully coiffed blonde hair. “I need…I need to talk with Lord Vanserra,” she whispered.

“Elain,” Lucien barked in warning. She twisted, her face screwed up in irritation. She knew that tone. Stay out of things you don’t belong in. Of course he’d be just like the rest of them. He’d seek to sideline her, that he saw no value in—

“Oh,” she whispered, touching the side of her body. White hot pain lanced through her, and when Elain looked between an ashen-faced Lucien and the terrified servant, she realized a knife had been buried in her side. Blood bloomed over the once lovely lavender dress, staining it irrevocably. 

Lucien had thrown out both hands, frozen in place. He pulled his lips over his teeth, barring vicious fangs. “Don’t you—” his words choked into an echoing snarl when the knife was pulled from Elain, eliciting a soft, gasping cry from her lips. She collapsed between them, catching herself bruisingly against her palms.

“This was for you,” the servant told him, tears coloring her words. Elain’s vision blurred as tears spilled down her cheeks. “Don’t touch her.”

“Or what,” Lucien demanded, coming closer. Elain wanted him to. Heat radiated from the wound, sluicing through her veins with each frantic pound of her heart. Something else was wrong. Elain couldn’t get the words out, couldn’t see even when she felt his hands grip the tops of her arms. 

“Don’t…” she meant to tell him not to leave her. Don’t leave me. The world tilted sideways, illuminated in bright, burning sunlight. She heard a commotion–Lucien snarling, the sound of scuffing feet. His fingers wrenched from her.

Blackness overtook Elain before the silence did.

LUCIEN: 

Lucien’s head pounded. 

Don’t jostle him.

Put the rag back over his face. 

We should just cut his throat and be done with it. 

Don’t wake him up.

Lucien didn’t know how many times he resurfaced from that dreamless sleep only to inhale the metallic stench of what he now knew was faebane. Fucking humans. Over and over he’d thrash, only to be shoved back beneath the surface. He needed to wake up. Lucien was careful when he felt his consciousness rise. He made no noise, peeking open his metal eye first to survey his surroundings. He was outdoors beneath a starless night sky. Cool air blew through his hair, soothing some of the sweat that had accumulated against his brow. 

Another look told Lucien he was in the back of a cart. His back was propped against the wood side, his wrists bound in iron attached to both his neck and ankles. That was fair. Vaguely, Lucien recalled ripping someone’s arm from their body before he’d been taken down. Ruefully, Lucien could admit he’d lost himself a little when Elain collapsed in a pool of her own blood. Instinct had taken over rationality.

Elain.

He didn’t have to look far to find her. Her wrists were tied behind her back with simple twine, her head pressed against his thigh. Lucien scooted closer, ignoring the ache in his body until her head rested in his lap. He set his irons over her carefully, guarding her sleeping body as best he could.

Lucien knew three things with absolute certainty.

He was drowning in faebane.

Wherever he was being taken to would be far more secure than the cart holding him.

He could break himself free of the irons with little difficulty. The humans knew enough to use faebane, but not so much that they knew iron was useless. Elain would be even easier, given she was only tied with fraying twine. They hadn’t counted on her.

That made him uneasy. What would they do with her? That human female’s regretful words lingered, worming their way through his pounding head. He didn’t trust the humans to offer compassion. If Elain was alive, Lucien would assume that meant they hadn’t known what to do with her.

They’d figure it out eventually. He needed to wake her up, secure her compliance, and get them both far, far away from wherever it was they were. Preferably back to fae territory. Lucien could tell by the way the air smelled, by the dullness to the world around him, that he was somewhere deep in human territory. 

It would have been easier had he been alone. Feyre would never forgive him if anything happened to her sister.

And Lucien now knew that he himself was not capable of letting harm come to her, regardless of his complicated, mostly resentful feelings. He sighed, looking towards the front of the cart. Two human males were easily dispatched of, even without magic. He still had his other senses. He counted three beating hearts—excluding his own—and nothing else. No others were around, no guards, no contingent of soldiers. Did they truly believe two was enough? 

Careful not to rattle his chains, Lucien shook Elain. She moaned just loud enough that one of the humans twisted in their chair.

Fuck.

The two made eye contact before Lucien could slam his eyes shut. 

“Nice try,” that foul male chuckled, halting the team of horses dragging them through what Lucien realized was a rather dense forest. There were no stars because the swaying treetops had blocked his view. 

Elain stirred a second time, blinking open her wide, innocent eyes. 

“Don’t move,” Lucien whispered, soft enough only she would hear it. Bless her, but Elain went wholly still. Finally, one thing was going right. Lucien, too, didn’t move until the back of the wagon was pulled open and that stinking male climbed up the back.

“They say you’re a lord,” he breathed, fishing out a filthy rag from his pocket. “Awfully ugly to be nobility, in my opinion.”

“I can see why you’d draw that conclusion,” Lucien replied evenly. He swallowed, wishing he had even a kernel of magic left to him. It would have been so satisfying to melt the smug look from that bastard's face. 

“That was my brother you tore apart back there,” the male hissed, spraying droplets of his spit against Lucien’s face. The humiliations wouldn’t cease, it seemed. Lucien heaved a heavy sigh.

“I owe you for his death.”

Lucien tore apart his restraints faster than the human’s eyes could track. Faster than he could react with that pathetic rag Lucien hated. He felt like an animal subjected to the whims of a particularly stupid master. He didn’t bother with the ring around his neck or even his ankles as he lunged, utilizing his faster, stronger body to pin the human beneath him.

“I apologize for separating you and your brother,” Lucien snarled, teeth at the male's neck. “Allow me to rectify my mistake.”

Lucien tasted blood before he heard the screaming. That would be Elain, he realized with no regret. What did she expect? It was them or the human and Lucien very much enjoyed being alive. He’d been beaten and restrained and drugged for days. He felt no remorse, ripping that male's throat out. 

Nor did Lucien feel any compunction removing the restraints around his ankles and divesting the cowardly second of his head. No witnesses, no one to raise the alarm. By the time anyone realized they were missing, he and Elain would be long gone. 

Elain.

Lucien turned, wiping his bloodied mouth with the sleeve of his jacket. She was huddled at the far end of the wagon, trembling like a lost little lamb. Trapped in the middle of nowhere, likely deep in the human lands…with her. Lucien made his way towards her, his bloodlust rapidly cooling in his gut. Lucien had the vague memory of a swaying crate and the smell of salt—he didn’t think they were in Prythian. Looking around at the trees, and the sky, he thought it all reminded him a little too much of the continent. Lucien’s stomach sank. 

“Come here,” he ordered, well aware he must look insane to her. She didn’t move. 

It wouldn’t matter. She’s afraid of you regardless.

“Come here, Elain,” he snarled softly. It was enough to convince her to crab crawl towards him, quietly crying. 

“You killed them,” she whispered, her already bloodied dress dragging through the mess of the first human. Lucien ripped apart her restraints, freeing her so she could hop to the grass. 

“Better them than us,” he dismissed, working to divest himself of the rings circling his wrists and neck. 

“You could have let them run–”

“So they could raise the alarm?” Lucien demanded, rounding on her so quickly Elain fell to the dirt trail at their feet. Lucien wasn’t done. So what if she was scared of him? That was nothing new. They were on their own, magicless and muted. Lucien had no idea if anyone was looking for them or if they’d even know where to look. He needed her to do as she was told, if nothing else. 

“So they could bring back a hundred more who might muzzle us entirely? Who might kill you because you were not supposed to be there and they don’t need you? Or maybe they’ll do experiments. I’ve heard—”

Her palm sang against his cheek, hitting him hard enough to fill his mouth with blood. Lucien laughed. What else could he do? That was the biggest show of spirit he’d ever gotten from her. He’d take her anger over that quiet smiling and frightened cringing she was always offering up. 

“Better,” he informed her, wrenching the iron ring from his neck. 

“You were excessive,” she accused him, still trembling. Lucien flexed his neck, looking at the forest surrounding them. He knew just enough to know they needed to be moving north, and quickly. The minute humans realized two fae—one of whom had killed humans—were roaming the lands, they would be out for blood. 

“You passed out before you got to witness their own cruelty,” Lucien snapped, not bothering to mention all the said cruelty he’d seen had been their treatment of her. Forgive and forget, he supposed. She was over being stabbed and stitched back together by their clumsy hands but Lucien wasn’t. They could have waited until she was in bed to attack. 

Why? 

Some of his anger blew out. Jurian and Vassa would have returned at nightfall. Would have aided him. Would either of the humans realize something was amiss? Night Court, surely, would realize Elain was missing. Would they think he kidnapped her, a male gone mad with need? Or were they combing Prythian?

Lucien remembered his six days with Feyre through Prythian. No one had come then and that was the High Lord's mate. He very much doubted they’d put together a massive search party. They’d wait, looking for some hint, without risking their position. Lucien couldn’t begrudge them that.

“We’re on our own,” he told her, running a hand through his half-tangled hair. What did he have on him? In his pocket, enough coins to get them a few nights in an inn and a meal. A knife in his boot, cleverly concealed, was the only weapon they had. Everything else they’d have to steal, barter, or manipulate people out of it. Tricky, given they needed to lay low. Lucien didn’t trust Elain enough to not immediately run her mouth. 

Elain nodded, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. “We need clean clothes, Lucien.”

Of course she thought so. “I’ll take distance over clean—”

“You’re covered in blood,” she interrupted impatiently. “No one will help us if they see you. They’ll know who you are. What you’ve done.”

Fine. 

“We’ll steal some in the morning,” he grumbled, annoyed with her already. “But if we’re caught–”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way to make their deaths terrible,” Elain replied, crossing her arms over her chest. Lucien gestured for her to follow him off the path. They’d walk through the night and into the morning for as long as they could. He needed to put miles of distance between them and the cart, to get to Rask before anyone even realized they were missing. He could plead with the monarch once they arrived and sort this whole shit show out there.

Three days tops, he told himself. 

Crouching before a tree, Lucien ran his fingers over the mossy overgrowth.

“This way,” he murmured, beckoning her to follow him.

“How do you know that?” she asked, some of her anger slipping to genuine curiosity. 

“All Autumn males learn,” he dismissed, focusing on his steps through the leafy underbrush. Elain stumbled just behind, hardly precise. Lucien’s temper flared. Couldn’t she manage one thing? Walk in a straight line—how hard was that?”

“Elain?”

“Sorry,” she panted, her hand clutching her side. In his haste and his irritation, Lucien had forgotten Elain had been stabbed, likely for the first time. He halted, still able to see that team of horses in the distance pawing at the ground nervously. For a brief moment, he considered just hauling her up over his shoulders and continuing on. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, well aware he hardly sounded friendly. Lucien couldn’t let her see how panicked he was. How much worse he might get if she collapsed at his feet. 

“I—”

Fuck it. 

Lucien hauled her upwards, draping her over his shoulder as best he could. She shrieked unforgivably loud, hitting his back with her fists. “Put me down, Lucien!”

“We’re faster this way,” he replied, moving quickly through the underbrush. “And you’re hurt.”

“This doesn’t feel any better,” Elain panted. He was sure it didn’t. What were the options? Let her pause to rest every six steps or let him carry her like a baby? 

“If you’re too hard on that wound, it’ll scar. Wreck your pretty—” Her pretty what. Elain went limp, as if it had just occurred to her that she might have a lasting mark. A reminder of his failure. Lucien hoped to never see it. Hoped they’d get their magic back in time to spare her that. 

She’d been through enough.

ELAIN:

Elain woke to warm sunlight practically burning her face. Her body was stiff from sitting against a tree, her neck doubly so. All she wanted was a soft bed and a cold glass of water. Instead, Elain had leaves tangled in her hair and Lucien’s stiff, blood-soaked jacket for a blanket. He was gone, though the string that connected them told her he wasn’t far. She didn’t care if he’d slept at all. Not when he’d spend endless silent hours all but running with her over his shoulder. 

Sidelined, what else was new? Though, Elain could begrudgingly admit that there was some rationale to Lucien doing what he had. They needed to put distance between themselves and their abductors and she had been just barely steady on her feet. 

Still, she would have liked it if he'd at least asked her. 

You would have said no. 

Elain buried that voice, annoyed that her consciousness was siding with Lucien. 

“He should have asked,” she whispered to the hazy morning light. Elain rose to her feet. Brushing dirt and leaves from her backside, Elain took stock of her surroundings. She could hear rushing water somewhere in the distance, mingled with the rustling wind and cheerful birds. It didn’t take Elain long for her mind to slide into survival. Half a lifetime subsisting on almost nothing had taught Elain how to forage for something edible. 

Her side still throbbed, though Elain was determined to ignore it. She refused to be carried by Lucien, couldn’t stand to have the masculine scent of him—wood-burned apples and something distinctly warm, something spicy—burned into her nose again. She might do something stupid like touching him, and who knew what might come of that.

He’d get the wrong idea if nothing else. 

Elain made her way to a goose plum tree, picking the small fruit right from the branches. She wanted to gather as many as she could, but for the moment, eating the tart, sweet fruit was almost healing. Like she could fix all the wrongs committed against her simply by taking a bite.

Using the front of her blood-soaked dress as an apron, Elain picked as many as would fit before awkwardly making her way toward the sound of water. 

She should have known she’d find Lucien there. He’d been up for hours if the pile of clothing and other items gathered along the rocky riverbank were any indication. Elain hoped he hadn’t killed anyone else to get them, though didn’t think she was brave enough to ask if he had. Watching him rip out that man's throat had been…it had been confusing. It had terrified her, certainly, but it had also settled something in her chest. Had soothed her enough to go to him so he could unbind her. Elain didn’t dare unpack that thought and instead dumped her plums atop one of the clothing items Lucien had gathered. 

He was in utterly clear, waist-deep water, back facing her. Elain opened her mouth to announce her presence when he scooped up his long, auburn hair so he could use a cake of soap to wash his back.

She clapped her hand over her mouth at the sight. Was any part of him unblemished? Criss-crossed lashings];. marred his lovely golden brown skin, permanently etched in white. He spun when he heard her gasp, his face twisted with irritation.

“If you wanted to see me naked, you only have to ask.”

Elain turned away, crossing her arms over her chest. “I didn’t mean…” she mumbled, embarrassed to have been caught looking at him at all. It hadn’t occurred to her to examine him beneath his chest. How often did she see a shirtless man—male—besides? That was scandalous enough. She’d never seen a chest like his, with all that solid, defined, rippling muscle. 

“Some of the things there are for you. I found a village not too far and took what I could. We’ll want to avoid it.”

“Are they still alive?” she asked, her voice trembling.

Lucien snorted. “Yes, Elain. Still alive. I thought you and I would try to pass as humans.”

It was her turn to snort. As if anyone would ever believe someone like him was anything but fae. Lucien just was fae. His mannerisms, the way he was built, how he spoke…no human in their right mind would ever believe someone with a face like his, even with the scars, had come from a mortal mother.

Elain heard the sloshing of the water and then his feet padding on the rocks. Water dripped over her shoulder as Lucien shoved the soap into her hands. “Humans have scars too, Elain.”

Startled, Elain looked over her shoulder, snapping her eyes shut when she remembered he was still naked. She didn’t see anything. Lucien was bent, reaching for a brown pair of well-made trousers.

“I didn’t mean–”

“I know what you meant,” he snapped. Clearly he didn’t. “Go bathe. I want to see your wound when you’re finished.”

And that was that. He gathered the rest of his things, dressed from the waist down, and stalked off with soaking red hair. Elain almost called after him but chose not to. What was the point? He was so determined to see the worst in her, to assume that she thought no one would ever believe him anything but a monster because of his face. That was his problem, not hers. 

Elain stripped off that ruined dress, mourning the loss for only a moment. She had so few lovely, pastel gowns. The lavender one bunched on the riverbed had been one of her favorites, if not her absolute favorite. It was a shame to see it go. 

The water was freezing. Elain had no idea how Lucien had tolerated it. She worked quickly with that scentless bar of yellow soap, scrubbing her skin until nothing but the bruises remained. Elain rinsed her hair, scrubbing out the dirt like she had once done in the cottage her family occupied as a human. Back then the water had been far dirtier though just as cold, and Elain had always been in a rush to clean herself as quickly as possible.

In some ways, her life back then seemed as if it had been preparing her for this moment. Elain all but ran from the water, trying to warm herself in the shady forest air and failing miserably. Lucien had left the things he’d gathered for her beside all her plums, which only hurt her feelings a little. She pulled on her underthings and considered that her wound looked good enough. Someone had done a clumsy job stitching it, the gaps too large, too rushed. She’d be lucky if there wasn’t a scar left behind, though she found the thought didn’t bother her as much as she’d originally thought. 

Before Elain made her way back, Elain gathered willoweed–a pink flower that, when chewed, sped up healing. She could use some and had the feeling they might both before they were fully powered again. It didn’t hurt to be prepared, at any rate. 

Elain did as Lucien asked, if only to avoid another fight, and returned in only her under things.  Lucien was back where they’d originally started. He’d built a fire to cook fish and if she’d guessed right, boil water. Beside him, he’d laid out everything he’d managed to nab from the humans. He’d tied his hair off his face, foregoing the braids he’d carefully woven in before. He didn’t look ordinary, though his ears were hidden from view and the long tail had been tucked under the leather strap, making his hair seem shorter. She supposed he was trying to hide centuries of growth—she might have offered to cut it for him had it not seemed like such a terrible prospect. 

Lucien glanced up when he saw her arrive in the thin linen shorts she’d once worn every day as a human, along with the white shift that fell to her ankles. Lucien gestured for her to lift, his metal eye narrowing as Elain did just as he asked. She felt strangely embarrassed pulling that inch of her shorts down, barring a slice of skin to him.

He sucked a breath through his teeth. “Why bother at all?” he murmured, anger flashing over his features. His fingers twitched in his lap, as if he wanted to touch and had to restrain himself.

Elain appreciated that. She dropped the shift, drinking in the white shirt he wore, half laced over his chest to expose the curve of his collarbone and the muscular length of his neck. Faint red stubble graced the cut of his jaw, making him seem rougher than Elain had ever seen him. The veneer of his nobility was slowly stripping away until whoever lurked beneath was exposed.

“What is this?” Lucien asked when Elain carefully dropped her plums on his leather satchel. 

“Goose plums. And willoweed. One is for eating, the other is medicine.”

“Did you take any?” he questioned, not watching as she shimmied into the green and white dress he’d gotten for her. She’d forgotten how humans dressed—so restrictive if the laced-up corset around her middle was any indication. This, at least, tied in the front, though it was still tighter than she preferred.

She supposed she ought to be grateful there were no petticoats. That was for ladies, and Elain, at least in that moment, was not a lady. Certainly with her breasts pushed up towards the white neckline, creating more volume than she’d ever had in her life. Lucien didn’t pay her any attention when she sat on the overturned log beside him, pulling stockings up to her knees. 

“I’ll take some after I eat,” she murmured, not wanting to vomit in his lap. She laced up her boots while Lucien finished cooking his fish. She wondered how he’d managed to catch them–she hadn’t seen any fishing equipment. Had he stolen them…or had he used his hands? 

Elain took what Lucien offered, privately delighted when he took one of her plums and at that, too. She wanted to scream at him.

See! I’m not useless like everyone thinks! 

She didn’t. She merely ate, well aware it would likely be nightfall before they ate again. It brought up a few questions for her.

“Why did those people want you dead?” 

Lucien sighed, rubbing his hands on his knees. “I don’t know. Charitably, perhaps they were concerned about fae influence over their Queen.”

“And uncharitably?”

“Someone really hates me.”

Elain wanted to ask him who, and had the sense even if Lucien knew, he wouldn’t tell her. That was fine. Elain could figure it out as they traveled.

Which brought her to her next question.

“How long until the faebane wears off?”

Lucien ran a hand over his jaw. “I have no idea.”

Elain squashed her rising panic. “How far are we from a fae territory?”

Lucien only shrugged his shoulders, his own concern plain. “I’m not sure. I…I don’t have answers for this.”

“Are we going to die?”

His concern gave way to frustration. “No.”

And that was that. Lucien handed Elain the stem of the willoweed for her to chew while he packed up their bag. He’d nabbed some supplies—some bread, some jerky, some nuts. Things that would keep relatively well over the next day or so. He slung it over his broad chest and stood over a solid six feet tall. What human was ever going to believe Lucien was one of them? Elain was more inclined to believe he was some long-forgotten god of the wilderness before she believed he was a simple peasant farmer. 

Lucien fished through his pocket and, with a wry smile, snapped a black eyepatch over that metal eye.

She burst out laughing. “Stop it,” she gasped as Lucien scowled down at her.

“My eye is obviously magical.”

“You look like a pirate,” Elain managed, doubled over with shaking laughter. “Just accept no human in their right mind would ever accept you as human.”

He ripped off that eye patch, a mixture of hurt and anger glowing beneath his skin. “Because I am so terribly ugly? So scarred, so—”

“The opposite, Lucien,” she interrupted, guilt spearing through her. His surprise was evident and Elain regretted she’d made him feel bad about himself.  “There is no mistaking what you are.”

And then, just for good measure, Elain added, “I don’t think you’re ugly, Lucien.”

There. She’d said it. The scars on his face couldn’t diminish his beauty, and perhaps they were proof he’d survived something. His were merely an outward expression of his trauma, a warning to tread carefully. Hers were all internal, invisible to everyone who looked which made them think she was nothing but fine. She wasn’t sure if she found him handsome, but she supposed objectively, she could understand why everyone else did.

Could see some path in which she might, too. 

Color warmed his cheeks. She’d embarrassed him. Lucien nodded his head jerkily. “We should get moving.”

And that was that. 

LUCIEN:

I don’t think you’re ugly, Lucien. 

He didn’t know what to make of her words. Didn’t know what to make of her, if he was being honest. She walked beside him, doing a decent job keeping pace. Elain could identify everything around them, and his satchel was proof of it. Goose plums and wild carrots, pawpaws, and elderberries all weighed down his sack. Each new thing she found elicited a gasp of delight from her lips. She’d give him a small lesson on what she had and Lucien would open the bag for her to dump them right in.

Where had she been when he’d been trekking Prythian with Feyre? He and Elain wouldn’t starve, which was a relief. Lucien had been worried about what he’d do if he couldn’t find humans to steal from or if they had to veer from the river. 

And Elain wasn’t the worst company. Freed of whatever bothered her about him, at least in the short term, she offered polite conversation when the silence between them became too oppressive. She was making all the first moves. Lucien, who had long given up having a future with her, was suddenly forced to reevaluate. They were together. She was talking to him, her fear merely a whispered shadow in her eyes. Elain still kept a very polite distance between them, and she hadn’t asked him anything that might make him think she’d want to see him again.

And if he was honest, Lucien didn’t know if he wanted to see her. It was a chance to find out. He waited when Elain dug up red baneberry, another medicinal plant. She was muted, just as he was, and yet some part of him was uneasy. What were her senses telling her? Lucien merely held open the bag, rather taken with her easy smile.

She really was beautiful. That had never been in question. 

“Is this how you spend your time?” he asked her, more curious than anything. Those warm brown eyes slid to his face, wide with some emotion he didn’t recognize. 

“Mostly.”

“And…” fuck, he didn’t want to offend her. “You like it?”

Her sunny smile slipped into a frown. “Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?”

Pretty little liar. 

He shrugged. “What did you do when you were human?”

Elain’s head snapped towards him. “No one has ever asked me that before.”

Lucien waited patiently for her to answer. Surely she had dreams outside of planting? Even if her dreams had been mundane and small, they were still something. Better than tending Feyre’s garden for the rest of her life. Did Feyre even notice? Even care? She’d never noticed the garden in Spring, which made Lucien think the only reason Feyre had one in Night was because Elain willed it. 

Elain took a careful step over a log. “I wanted to come to the continent,” she finally told him with a small laugh. “I wanted to travel.”

“Not like this, I assume?” Lucien tried to joke. He was too raw and it was coming through. She glanced up.

“Not exactly.” “Why don’t you?” That seemed safe enough.

Clearly not. Elain’s laugh turned bitter. “I can’t even use my magic without asking permission.”

“And yet, you were allowed to bring Vassa a message?” Lucien questioned. 

“Nesta and Azriel were away, so when I volunteered…who was going to tell me no.”

Lucien’s hackles raised, his jealousy burning bright and hot.  “Why does Azriel get a say?”

Elain looked at him helplessly. “I don’t know,” she admitted. He believed her, though Lucien could guess why Azriel might want to sideline Elain. “I don’t know if it's even him doing it. Maybe it’s Nesta. It’s one of them, though.”

Lucien frowned. “Cassian trained Nesta. She does things, she–”

“I know.”

He felt bad for her. Day one of walking, and Lucien already felt sympathy for the female who had been torturing him since that bond snapped between them. 

“Well, when we return you can tell them how instrumental you were in keeping us both alive.”

That made her brighten. “I can!”

“Silver linings,” he agreed. Elain hummed her ascent, slipping back into a silence that wasn’t as terrible as before. It was almost agreeable. She didn’t laugh when he put the eye patch back on during a walking lunch, and Lucien tried to bury the resentment he felt towards her. She was trying, at least. Keeping pace, picking fruit and nuts where she found it while occasionally stripping bark to show him the sap beneath. 

And fuck if Elain didn’t know every goddamn bug smacking him in the face. If anyone had been born to be a woodland princess, it was her. He hated knowing that she would have thrived in Autumn were it not for the cruelty of the High Lord. Lucien could imagine her in the woods, burnished leaves woven through her golden brown hair. Showing him every edible mushroom, her feet bare—

Jesminda’s laugh slipped through his memory, filling Lucien with guilt. That was what she’d been like. All but dancing as she showed him some flower or other. He’d been too young, too stupid to appreciate her efforts back then. All Lucien had ever thought about was bedding her against the forest floor. He’d never once taken her to actual bed. He’d meant to. Had planned to.

But never had actually done so. 

The likelihood of proper, prim Elain ever letting his cock within an inch of her face was practically zero. What did it hurt to pay attention? 

“I know these,” Lucien told her, watching Elain crouch at the base of a particularly gnarled tree. “Morel, yes?”

Elain clapped her hands with delight. “Yes, that’s right! They’ll be nice, especially if we run out of fish.”

Lucien had been loosely following the river all day. He knew from the multitude of maps he’d seen that they’d eventually hit a human city before they reached the mountains. It would be an easier climb than when he’d escaped into Winter with Feyre, given both the climate and elevation. He could track down capes and other things before then, too. 

After that, the two would be in Rask and Lucien could beg for help from the fae. Get a message to someone–Rhysand, perhaps, who would come for Elain, if nothing else. Lucien wished he knew how close they were to that city. Already, his legs ached and he was very much looking forward to building a small fire in the middle of that endless forest, eating something, and passing out amid the rocks and sticks. 

“You know,” he began, maneuvering his way closer to the riverbank. It was too much to hope for a cave, given the landscape, and still Lucien marched up a steep hillside just in case. “This is the nicest you’ve ever been to me.”

Elain’s mouth fell open. He still remembered her palm stinging across his cheek. Her anger. Lucien suspected Elain was merely making the best of her circumstances, but if he was going to try, he wanted her to, too. 

And that meant Elain had to be a little angry. He knew she was. He felt it pulsating down their shared bond more than he felt anything else. She would be utterly blank for days—weeks, even—and then he’d feel an explosion of anger. It was as if she’d found a way to swallow it all, storing it in a little jar until the lid no longer fit. It came pouring out and what she did with it, Lucien didn’t know. Did she vent it on the people around her? Or did she merely give it all to him, knowing he understood that kind of rage? 

“I’m always nice,” Elain replied, gritting her teeth to force a smile. Lucien recognized that expression, though Elain wore so much nicer than Eris ever had. He could needle her, just as he’d done his eldest brother back when he’d been young. Push her buttons, lodge himself under her skin. Provoke a reaction to get some honesty out of her. 

“Oh? I don’t think you’ve ever once told me thank you for the Solstice gifts I’ve brought you.”

Elain’s face paled. Lucien had always been curious about those gifts. He’d never seen her wear them and she’d never said thank you, either in person or afterward in a card. The first year could have been an oversight.

Afterward, Lucien knew it was intentional. It didn’t stop him—not sending a gift was too rude to contemplate, though she’d never once returned the favor. His mother had taught him better, and Lucien understood, having met her father and knowing Feyre as intimately as he did, that their parents lacked half the manners, grace, and culture of his own family. Did she know she was supposed to? That it was rude? Lucien had never known, though some part of him suspected she did, and she was making a very pointed statement.

Say it out loud. 

“Thank you,” Elain said primly, her face coated in a sheen of sweat. 

“Did you throw them away?” he asked. 

“Why do you care what I did with them?” Elain asked him, a tinge of irritation cutting through her voice.

Yes. It disappointed him. Even after all those years, and his promise that he didn’t care about her any more than she cared about him, it disappointed him to learn he’d spent all that time trying to find her a nice gift and she’d immediately put them in the trash. 

“You could have regifted them, you know. The pearls would have looked nice in Feyre’s ears.” 

Feyre, at least, sent a thank you card. Feyre, though she often forgot the day of, would send over a lovely gift to accompany her apology. Lucien didn’t hold it against her. He knew his presence in her court was the result of her goodwill and her goodwill alone. 

Elain said nothing, eyes on the grassy ground beneath them. 

“You could just—”

“That’s enough, Lucien,” Elain snapped, not looking up at him. “You’re going to say something you regret.”

“What would you know about my regrets?” he sneered, reaching the top of the hill. No caves the whole way up, only mud and years of fallen branches and leaves. A sea of tree trunks stretched in every direction, filling him with a sense of hopelessness he hadn’t felt in a while. Lucien could hear the rushing sound of water falling over a ledge. There might still be a cave, somewhere to hide from lurking predators as the sun set.

“I see your dreams,” Elain informed him. Cold washed over him. “Your nightmares. Her. Jesm–”

“Don’t you dare say her name,” he ordered, rounding on her so quickly Elain fell to the ground. “Ever.”

“Then keep your own mouth shut about how I should approach a bond that even you don’t want. I’ll do whatever I want with your gifts and in exchange, I won’t bring up that you wish I was someone else.”

Guilt speared Lucien’s chest. He wasn’t brave enough to have this conversation with her, to add any nuance to the topic of Jesminda. Was Elain wrong? Staring her down as she rose back to her feet, Lucien couldn’t entirely say that she was. Every time he thought of meek Elain, he drew a comparison to wild, bubbly Jesminda. She’d been right for him. A true match. Everything.

It was a cruel, cosmic joke that somehow his entire life had been leading him to Elain Archeron. The happiest he’d ever seen her was gathering mushrooms at the base of a tree. When Feyre gave him updates, Elain’s always centered on her work in the kitchen, or the garden. Domestic work like she was some kind of household servant. Lucien had tried to imagine life with Elain and he couldn’t. He supposed she’d take joy in raising children and managing a household, but she had an immortal life. Children weren’t forever. Even his mother had friends and hobbies and dreams.

Lucien turned. Human Elain had wanted to see the continent. To travel. Did fae Elain want that, too? 

Lucien didn’t ask. He merely marched them towards another jagged hillside, creeping closer and closer to the water until he found what he was looking for. It wasn’t much, but it was three dark, cool walls. Lucien gestured for Elain to go inside, the resentment between them nearly unbearable. Elain looked miserable, and Lucien knew that was his doing. 

With a heavy sigh, he sat on the hard ground, a rather hard stone lodged right against the base of his spine. He deserved that.

With one knee against his chest, his other leg stretched before him, Lucien began unpacking his satchel of things. As he pulled out a neatly rolled blanket and offered it to her, Lucien asked,

“What did you want to see on the continent?”

Elain cleared her throat and with some horror, Lucien realized she’d been silently crying. “I uh,” she began, very quickly wiping at her eyes as if she merely had something in them. 

Bastard. 

“I wanted to see the tulip fields.”

A human thing. Lucien knew where they were, though. In the valley between the human city and the mountains lay thousands of them, stretched over miles. He’d have to go a little further into the interior than he might have liked, but it seemed a small thing. A secret, he decided. Even if the faebane wore off by then, he’d still take her.

“Ah.”

There was another beat of silence. Lucien stood, intending to fish when Elain’s voice whispered through the dark. “I didn’t throw your gifts away. I still have them.”

Bastard.

There was nothing Lucien was willing to say to that. A better male would have apologized. Would have explained Jesminda to, at least, demythologize her. To create some kind of understanding between them. He’d met Graysen, though he didn’t think she knew. Surely Elain understood what it was like to miss someone you could never have. 

Lucien only nodded his head, turning for the entrance of the cave.

He said nothing at all.

Bastard.

#elucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #elain x lucien #elucien fanfic #elucien fanfiction #this is for fieldofdaiisys ONLY #everyone else can read I GUESS #a return to my roots: elain and lucien bickering in nature

[mossytrashcan]

Sending this as an ask but what saw trap would you assign an acotar chara? Any charecter of ur choosing i'm kind of fascinated

Okay okay okay, I’m gonna go w ones I think fit them best thematically, not with the ones that’ll be the most painful. Might be some repeats because a lot of saw traps are collaborative

Bathroom Trap: Cassian and Azriel Controversially going w them over Tamcien, but mostly because I think Adam and Az share some surface level similarities. There’s the whole voyeur aspect, but also a passivity to him. Plus their dynamic is super codependent, so the stakes of Cassian having to kill Az to escape? Very juicy

Spike Trap: Nessian A toxic couple pinned together by spikes, where the woman can only escape by killing her partner? And I didn’t choose Feysand?

Okay jk on that last part. Rhysand does some fucked up stuff, and the codependency theme really works w them, but Nessian is calling to me. Honest to god, Nesta needs it more than Feyre. At least Rhysand doesn’t play when it comes to his wifey. At least he’s only got eyes for her

Shotgun Carousel: Elain (and others) Elain’s a very passive gal who’s kind of restricted from making bold decisions, so I think that having to choose between who gets shotgunned and who gets spared would be really healthy for her. It’s what John would want

Nerve Gas House: The Inner Circle Pretty self explanatory. Put their asses in the nerve gas house. Throw older Nyx in there too, idgaf. Make Rhysand watch. Works thematically

Glass Coffin: Tamsand. Duh. Sworn sexy enemies. Tamlin is Mark cuz DAMN them thangs thanging (and also Rhys would get himself killed because he’s just that mad at Tamlin)

Flammable Jelly: Lucien. No reason I just think it’s funny to put fire man in fire trap

Public Execution Trap (love triangle from hell): Rhysand, Nesta, and Cassian Cas has GOT to decide if he’s married to Rhysand or if he’s married to Nesta. Boy stand UP

Reverse Bear Trap: Tarquin. Let him stab someone. Let him be selfish

Nerve Gas Room?: Feysand Let them fight over the air hole. Only change is that Feyre (survivor duh) wouldn’t presumably be trapped in the room forever

Eye Vacuum: Jurian MWAHAHHAHAHAHA

Bloodboarding: Nesta and Feyre Genuinely they are pass the point of therapy. They need to be put in a life or death situation where they have to collaborate in order to keep each other alive

Rapist limbs go bye-bye: Amarantha

#this is so long I’m so sorry #genuinely pondered this for a disturbing amount of time