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kingofsummer93 · 11 months

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Ex Luna Scientia

Summary:

Lucien Vanserra, seventh son of the Minister for Magic, is as loved by his peers as he is hated by his family. But behind the charm and irreverence hides a secret, as dark and menacing as the scar on his face.

Elain Archeron, middle sister in a trio of muggle-born witches, has only one wish: for someone to truly see her. Because when she sleeps at night, she can see it all.

Or- an Elucien at Hogwarts AU.

Chapter 19: The Intruder

Ao3 Masterlist

“Don’t look at me like that, Mr Vanserra,” Professor Amren said drily from behind her desk. “You brought this on yourself.”

Lucien sighed in frustration. “Creevy is a dolt. He can barely stay on top of his broom. There’s no way we’re going to win this match.”

It was more than a slight exaggeration, not to mention a wildly uncharitable thought, given Lucien was team captain and had chosen Creevy as backup Seeker, but still. He wasn’t in the mood to feel anything but resentment and jealousy as he slumped in his chair, his gaze trained on the Quidditch match happening in the grounds below. A match he should have the star of, not Creevy.

His punishment for getting caught out of bed after hours and breaking into the teacher’s lounge had consisted of six weeks of Saturday morning detentions, all served with Professor Amren. Lucien had been relieved at first- it had seemed like a fair punishment, considering the scope of rule-breaking he and Elain had actually been doing, and how much worse it could have been had Peeves actually seen them come out of the Floo Network. But then Lucien realized his Head of House had scheduled it this way to prevent him from playing in the last Quidditch match of the year.

Lucien had groveled as he had never groveled before. He’d pleaded, and bargained, and argued- all to no avail. Professor Amren would not be swayed in her decision.

“Then you should have thought of that before gallivanting all over the castle in the middle of the night as if it was your private residence,” the teacher replied, her own gaze fixed on the match.

Lucien knew that Professor Amren was a passionate Quidditch fan, and was deeply invested in the Inter-House championship. Being stuck indoors during the final match must have been as much a punishment for her as it was for him. And yet even that argument hadn’t succeeded in changing her mind.

He grumbled under his breath and turned away from the match at the sight of Creevy just barely avoiding being hit by a bludger. The weekend edition of the Daily Prophet was spread on the desk in front of him, each article more grim than the last.

Lockdown at the Ministry Continues- Minister for Magic growing Paranoid? (full story on pg 8).

Dementor Sighting in South London- A full report by Dellagus Dingle, story below.

The one hundred and forty-second installment of the Tri-Trials Tournament Set to Continue at Hogwarts- A Harmless Competition, or an Inappropriate use of ministry resources during uncertain times? (full story on pg 14).

At least there was no hint of Briallyn Skeeter’s hateful garbage anywhere. There were rumors circulating that the Daily Prophet had gone rogue, no longer subjecting its articles and journalists to the Ministry’s censorship. It thrilled Lucien just as much as it terrified him. His father wouldn’t stand for this- not for much longer. The simple fact that he was letting rebellion of any kind happen amongst the magical community was a sign that he had other, more sinister plans to focus on.

Lucien snapped his head up at the sound of a roar from the Quidditch pitch below. The Slytherin stands were in a frenzy, cheering so loudly the sound traveled all the way to the castle. Their players swooped in formation around their Seeker, who held his clenched fist (and the Snitch he had caught) high in the air. Lucien watched bitterly as they flew a celebratory lap around the pitch. Several magical fireworks were set off, green and silver snakes lighting up the late afternoon sky.

An arrogant, ugly part of him was oddly, wickedly relieved. They had lost, and his team would be furious with him, but at least they hadn’t won because of someone else. It was petty, and childish, but he couldn’t help it.

When he turned back to Professor Amren she was staring at him, her mouth pressed in a thin line.

“Don’t look at me like that!” he said defiantly.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’d better wipe that look off your face before your teammates think you’re glad they lost.”

Lucien squirmed uncomfortably. Amren had a way of eerily guessing exactly what he was thinking. “Why would I be glad they lost?” he asked petulantly.

She fixed him with a look, and then pointed towards the door. “Get out before you say something to earn yourself more detentions.”

Lucien shot out of his seat and aimed straight for the door.

“Mr Vanserra,” Professor Amren called before he could escape, “do try to stay out of trouble, will you? There’s only a few weeks left of term, surely you can manage?”

There was an uncharacteristic edge to her tone that made him pause. Not for the first time he wondered if the severity of his punishment had not been because of the crime itself, but as a way to make him think twice about sneaking around, considering everything that was happening.

“You sound like my mother,” he quipped, the words leaving his mouth before he could stop them.

The look she fixed on him was nothing short of demonic.

“Who is an incredible woman that I admire, and therefore you should take it as a compliment!” he quickly added.

Amren pointed to the door wordlessly, though it looked as if she was struggling to keep herself from smiling. Lucien gave her a mock bow, and turned on his heel.

“And do try not to get yourself killed in the last Trial!” she called after him.

Lucien spun around, but Amren held up a hand. “No, Mr Vanserra, I cannot tell you what it is.”

“But think of the further shame to Gryffindor if I lose!”

“Consider yourself lucky you weren’t disqualified. Now get out.”

This time Lucien kept his mouth shut and hurried out of her office.

The castle was deserted with everybody still either celebrating or moping down at the Quidditch pitch, so he took a meandering route towards the Great Hall, letting his thoughts wander. Elain would just be coming out of her last detention as well. Perhaps he could intercept her on her way back from the greenhouses and they could take advantage of the empty castle…

Lucien was so lost in thought he didn’t see the other figure walking down the hall until he walked directly into them.

“Oof! Sorry, I didn’t see-“ His words died in his throat as he registered who stood in front of him.

Matted shoulder-length brown hair, haunted dark eyes, a ragged cloak covering robes that looked ready to dissolve into dust from a mere touch. He was barely recognizable- and from the look in his eyes, hardly seemed in control of himself.

“Mr…Mr Koschei, are you alright, sir?” Lucien was so shocked by the man’s appearance that before he could say anything else, or step away, the man had lunged at him and grabbed the front of his robes with an iron grip.

“Spell-Cleaver!” Koschei rasped, “I need to speak to Professor Spell-Cleaver!” Lucien stumbled back, but the man held firm. His eyes were wild, haunted, and he was panting heavily, as if he’d been running through the castle.

Lucien looked up and down the deserted corridor, but there was no sign of anybody. How had the man even entered the castle undetected? He must have snuck in somehow while everyone was down by the Quidditch pitch.

“He’ll be coming back shortly,” Lucien started, trying to free himself from the man’s grasp. “Everyone is down by the Quidditch pitch, it was the finals…”

“Azkaban!” the man rasped. “Tell Helion…tell him…” Lucien’s heart rate picked up, adrenaline coursing through him. Azkaban. Was it true, then?

“Tell him what?” Lucien asked urgently. “Sir…how did you get here? Where have you been?”

“Tell him…before it’s too late!”

Lucien managed to wrestle himself from the man’s grip. “Before…before it’s too late for what?”

But Koschei didn’t answer. Something was happening to him- he was breathing faster and faster, a hand clutched to his chest, as if he was fighting some internal force.

“I can bring you to his office, you can wait for him there-”

Koschei looked up again, and Lucien recoiled. His wild, haunted brown eyes had glazed over, taking on a milky, strange quality. Professor Amren had demonstrated the three Unforgivable Curses on an unlucky spider the previous year, and the look in that spider’s many eyes as the Professor made it twirl and tap dance across her desk was the same currently in Koschei’s eyes.

“Sir?” Lucien asked nervously, taking a step back. He slid his hand into his pocket to grab his wand- for whatever good it would do him faced with a fully trained Auror with decades of experience and training. “Did you…do you want to wait here while I find someone? Professor Amren-”

He trailed off as Koschei’s face split into a wild grin. The man sniffed in his direction, his smile turning almost feral. “What do we have here?”

Lucien took another step back, his heart racing. He couldn’t fight Koschei, but he could maybe outrun him. The man looked haggard and exhausted, and Lucien had the advantage of knowing every nook and hidden passageway in this castle. “A werewolf?”

Lucien’s heart stuttered in his chest. He froze, his wand still clutched tightly in his hand. “What did you say?”

Koschei sniffed again. “You belong with the others.”

“The others…the other what?” Though Lucien had a feeling he knew very well what Koschei was referring to.

“My other little soldiers,” Koschei whispered under his breath. “My master will be so pleased I’ve found another for his army.”

Lucien took another unconscious step backwards, and again Koschei followed. There was no doubt in Lucien’s mind who Koschei’s master referred to, though the rest of his words made bile rise up his throat.

“What does he plan to do with that army?” Another step backwards, closer to the wall. Koschei’s smirk widened as he saw Lucien had placed himself between him and what appeared to be a solid stone wall. Just a few more steps- if he could just keep him talking for a few more moments…

“How the humans will scream,” the man crooned, his glazed eyes shining with glee. “How easy it will be to get them to bend the knee.”

“Bend the…”

Lucien gaped in horror at the implication, but before he could think about it too deeply Koschei had raised his wand.

“You’re mine now, wolfling.”

The man’s mouth opened, but instead of a spell, he let out a ragged gasp. His eyes seemed to clear, if only for a moment, and they widened as he focused on Lucien.

“Run,” the man choked out.

Lucien didn’t wait to see if whatever hold was over Koschei would take over again. He lunged- not at Koschei, but at the wall, and the tapestry that he knew concealed a hidden passageway behind.

The sound of stone shattering echoed behind him as Koschei’s spell missed him by mere inches. He hurtled down the narrow stairwell hidden by the tapestry, almost slipping down the stairs in his hurry. He didn’t dare pause to check if Koschei was chasing after him. Perhaps the part of his brain that seemed to be fighting the Imperius charm would slow him down enough to give Lucien a head start.

The bottom of the hidden stairs were concealed by a suit of armor. Lucien jostled it as he burst out of the stairwell, wincing as the clang of metal echoed around the empty corridor.

“Oy!” the armor called after him. “Watch yourself, there, comrade!”

He raced down the corridor, and then another one, hurtling down staircase after staircase. By the time he reached the marble stairs leading to the Entrance Hall he was panting. The front doors to the castle were thrown open, a steady stream of chattering students drifting towards the Great Hall. A few people looked at him curiously as he jostled his way through the crowd.

“The Headmaster!” he gasped, still breathless. “Where is Spell-Cleaver?”

Someone pointed over their shoulder, to the gently sloping lawn and the swarms of students returning from the match. Lucien almost tripped over his own feet as he raced down the front steps, pushing through the crowd for a tall figure with onyx hair.

“Professor Spell-Cleaver! Sir!”

The headmaster’s golden eyes flashed in alarm as he spotted Lucien. “Mr Vanserra!” he exclaimed, the smile wiping from his face. “What is the matter?”

“Koschei!” Lucien gasped, bracing his hands on his knees to catch his breath. “Bartemius Koschei, he’s…he’s here, looking for you.”

“What matter of nonsense is this?” demanded Professor Hybern, frowning at Lucien.

“You saw him?” the Headmaster asked sharply, cutting off the Potions master.

“Yes! Inside the castle, he was asking for you. He seemed…” Lucien struggled to find the right description. “Not right.”

“Where?” Professor Spell-Cleaver had already pulled out his wand, and Lucien followed him as he hurried up the castle’s front steps.

“Third floor, near the library, but he…well, he was chasing me at one point, so I don’t know where he is now...”

The headmaster’s face paled slightly. “PREFECTS!” his voice echoed around the Entrance Hall, and the gathered students halted. “Gather your houses into the Great Hall. Nobody leaves until you are instructed to. Head Boy and Girl- you’re in charge. Professors, come with me.”

---

The search went on for so long that at some point the long house tables were replaced by squashy purple sleeping bags, courtesy of a flick of Professor Tarquin’s wand. Gossip and rumors spread like wildfire, each more absurd than the last. At one point during his rounds around the hall Lucien overheard a second year swear up and down that she had seen a troll near the second floor girls’ lavatory.

“I heard there were two of them,” he couldn’t help but whisper to her, smirking as her friends all gaped at him in horror.

“Lucien!” Vassa scorned with an eye-roll. “He’s joking. Get in your sleeping bags, it’s lights out soon.”

The second years scurried under their blankets, eyes still wide with fear.

“Are we in danger?” the girl asked as she pulled the sleeping bag up to her chin.

Vassa glared at him again before kneeling next to the girl, and Lucien winced, walking away quickly. He glanced at the closed doors to the Great Hall for the thousandth time. Professor Spell-Cleaver had dispatched the teachers and ghosts to search the castle with such swift efficiency that he had little doubt they’d not only been trained for such a probability, but had been expecting it as well.

“Lucien!” someone whisper-shouted from the rows of Gryffindor students. “Psst!”

Lucien spotted Feyre, who had dragged her sleeping bag suspiciously close to Tamlin’s. Jurian, to his credit, had seemingly not made any comments. Both of them were still in their Quidditch robes, and reeked so badly that at one point he and Vassa had doused them with streams of water from their wands.

“Is it true?” Feyre asked, eyes wide.

Lucien had never once seen her look so fazed. He’d seen her march onto the Quidditch pitch in all kinds of weather, zooming towards the goal posts while dodging bludgers left and right, even arguing with the referee when she disagreed with a ruling. Feyre usually acted like she’d seen and done it all, but at this moment she looked like what she was- a scared teenager. It rattled him enough that he momentarily forgot about his own fears, desperate to get her back to her usual spirits.

Lucien sat at the end of her sleeping bag, smirking at her. “About the troll?”

Feyre gasped at the same time as a hand smacked him on the back of the head. “Stop that.” Elain sat down next to her sister, eyes grave. “That rumor is spreading like wildfire. The younger kids are terrified.”

“Better than them knowing there’s a madman on the loose in the castle,” Lucien said drily. He shivered at the memory of the haunted look in Koschei’s eyes. He’d battle a troll over a mind-controlled, battle-trained Auror any day.

“So it is true.” Feyre scooted closer to her sister. “Why is he here, though?”

“I don’t know.” Lucien glanced around them, keeping his voice low. “Don’t spread it around, though. The teachers don’t want people to panic.”

“And he really attacked you?” Feyre whispered incredulously. “I’ve read about him in the Daily Prophet. Some people think he’s been going mad for years. Maybe he’s finally snapped.”

Lucien avoided her searching gaze, not daring to look at his friends or Elain, the only people to whom he’d hurriedly whispered the full details of exactly what Koschei had said to him. That, and the fact that he had seemed to be fighting like hell against the Imperius Charm.

Had he come here on some wild attempt to alert Spell-Cleaver to what his father had been forcing him to do? It had certainly seemed like it, though judging from the state he was in Lucien didn’t think they’d easily get information out of him. If he had taken the risk of traveling all the way from Azkaban to Hogwarts, though, he must truly have been desperate- to admit to what he had done, or perhaps to escape.

You’re mine now, wolfling.

A shiver went down his spine not just at the implied threat, but at what would have happened if someone had overheard. His friends seemed to edge closer around him in silent solidarity, unable to speak freely in the packed Great Hall.

“Lights out in ten minutes!” Rhysand called from the front of the hall. “Get in your sleeping bags!”

The noise in the Great Hall seemed to increase, until a loud BANG! accompanied by a spray of red sparks stunned everybody into silence.

“Get in your blasted sleeping bags!” Nuan called, pointing her wand at her throat to magically amplify her voice. “NOW!”

The search went into the night. Professors came by every hour to make sure that everything was under control, and then swiftly left again. Without the glow of the hundreds of floating candles near the ceiling, the only light came from the pearly sheen of ghosts drifting in and out of the Hall, and from the clear night sky above.

Lucien refused to look, though it pulled at him like an itch. He knew what he’d find there without having to look up. A perfect crescent moon, bright and silvery, as innocent and harmless as the winking stars around it. And yet powerful enough to ruin lives- to turn innocent people into monsters unfit for society, according to his father.

Would he feel the same way, if he had never been bitten? Or if he hadn’t found such a fierce circle of friends? Lucien never let himself dwell on that for too long.

The doors to the Great Hall opened, and Professor Amren slipped in, looking uncharacteristically frazzled. Lucien paused from where he’d been pacing between the rows of sleeping bags, half-heartedly shushing younger students. He locked eyes with Elain, who had also paused her sleepy monitoring of the Huflfepuffs. She hurried over to him, almost stepping over some tiny first years.

“This can’t be good,” she whispered.

Lucien grabbed her hand and squeezed, just as Amren finished her conversation with the Head Boy and Girl, and then turned in his direction.

“That can’t be good.”

With a wave of the Professor’s wand the floating candles ignited, bathing the previously dark hall in golden light. All around them students grumbled, shielding their eyes from the light.

“Mr Vanserra,” Amren said as she approached them. “Come with me, please.”

“What’s going on?” he blurted.

“Have you found him?” Elain whispered.

Something like distress flashed across the teacher’s face, but a second later her neutral mask was back in place. “The castle is secure. The Prefects have been instructed to escort their houses back to their dormitories.” She turned to Lucien. “The headmaster would like a word with you, Mr Vanserra.”

His heart dropped. Either they had found Koschei, and what he had to say somehow concerned him, or they hadn’t found him at all- and perhaps didn’t believe him. He opened his mouth to protest, and quickly shut it again at a warning look from Amren. Elain squeezed his hand again, her mouth set in a grim line, before disappearing towards the rows of sleeping Hufflepuffs.

“Professor-”

“Not here, Lucien.”

The unusual use of his first name shut him up once more. Students stared as they passed, some curiously, some looking annoyed. Perhaps they’d all think he’d made this up, too.

But Koschei…where could he have gone? He couldn’t have left through the front doors unseen, and nobody but Spell-Cleaver could apparate in or out of the castle and grounds. The fireplaces in the teachers’ lounge and Helion’s office were connected to the Floo Network, but they would have been immediately sealed off once the teachers started their search. The only other way in or out of the castle was through the secret passageways- the one leading to the basement of Honeydukes amongst them. Lucien doubted someone like Koschei would have been aware of secret passageways during his years at Hogwarts.

“Professor,” he tried again once they were out of earshot of the Great Hall. “I didn’t make it up, I swear-”

Professor Amren held up a hand, her eyes wary. “Nobody is accusing you of lying, Mr Vanserra. The Headmaster wishes to know everything Mr Koschei told you when you…encountered him.”

“But-”

“We have found the evidence.” Her tone did not invite for further questions, but Lucien was relieved enough to keep his mouth shut. They’d found the scorch marks on the walls from Koschei’s attempted hexes, then. Or perhaps the man had left some other evidence as he fled. Or perhaps…

“Did you find him?”

Professor Amren didn’t reply, which was answer enough. Lucien’s gut churned with dread. Not just at what Koschei might have revealed, but at whatever state the man would be in.

“Cockroach Clusters,” Amren said once they had reached the gargoyle that guarded the headmaster’s office. It jumped to the side, revealing a spiral staircase moving upwards of its own accord. Once they reached the top Amren gave a single knock and pushed open the doors.

Lucien had been in trouble enough times during his years at Hogwarts that this was not his first time inside the Headmaster’s office. The many tables with their curious silver objects spinning and puffing, the model of the solar system (it’s soft clicking and whirring so similar to the sound his magical eye made), even the portraits of previous Headmasters and Headmistresses were familiar.

What he never expected to see was the sight of his eldest brother sitting in front of the Headmaster’s desk, looking as agitated as Amren. Eris jumped out of his chair and crossed the room in three long strides, crushing Lucien into a hug.

“Lucien! Helion told me what happened, are you alright?”

Lucien huffed an awkward laugh. “I’m fine. Are you…what are you doing here?”

He looked around the room, but there was no sign of Koschei. “Where’s Koschei? I thought he was found?”

“Please have a seat, Lucien.” Professor Spell-Cleaver gestured to the armchairs facing his desk.

“What’s going on?” Lucien asked uncertainly, sitting down next to his brother.

“Bartemius Koschei was indeed found,” the Headmaster started carefully. “Dead, on the grounds below the Astronomy tower.”

Whatever questions he had been preparing to ask instantly died on his tongue. “What? But you said…” Amren’s words landed in his consciousness. We found the evidence. “Oh, shit.”

“Language, Mr Vanserra,” Amren snapped.

“Oh, shit, indeed,” his brother echoed.

“What…how-”

“It would appear that he jumped,” Helion said solemnly.

“He-“ Lucien gaped in horror. “What? Why?”

“You were the last person to see him alive. We were hoping you might enlighten us about his state of mind when you saw him.”

Koschei had jumped. Had he done it of clear mind, to put an end to his torment, or had the Imperius charm forced him to do it? Either way, whatever knowledge he possessed of his father’s plans would have died with him.

“He…” Lucien loosed a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. His face burned as he remembered the way Koschei had sniffed at him, as if he could scent what he was.

You’re mine now, wolfling.

“He wasn’t right. One second he was asking me to take him to the Headmaster, and the next he was trying to take me. It’s like he was fighting for control of himself.”

Amren and Helion shared a cryptic glance. Eris’ hand clamped on his shoulder, so tightly it hurt.

“He wanted to take me,” he mumbled. His fists clenched in his lap, from equal parts anger and humiliation. “He said something about me belonging with the others. He said his master would be pleased he’d found another for his army.”

“What else?” the headmaster prompted gently.

Lucien ran through the encounter, from Koschei’s pleas to speak to the Headmaster, to his veiled references of Azkaban, and his final, desperate urge to Lucien to run.

Eris’ hand tightened on his shoulder. “It’s what we suspected, then,” his brother said darkly.

“What did you suspect?”

Amren cut a sharp glance to Eris. “Perhaps it wouldn’t be wise to-“

“He’s my father!” Lucien snapped. Out of the corner of his eye he could have sworn he saw Helion flinch. “Estranged or no, I deserve to know what you think he’s planning!”

“Let us worry about that,” Eris said. “You don’t need to concern yourself-“

“It started concerning me the day that madman tried to kill Elain during the first trial! He was already under the Imperius curse- he must have been.”

“Why would he do such a thing?” Amren’s face had gone pale.

To Lucien’s surprise it was Helion who answered. “Because she is a Seer, and may have once Seen something Beron wishes to keep quiet.”

“We have it,” Lucien said, before he could fully process the implication of what he was saying. “We have the prophecy, it’s here in the castle.”

Helion’s face slackened with shock. A deafening silence fell. The only sound was the gentle clicking of the golden solar system, and the whirring and puffing of the various odd instruments. Lucien could have sworn one of the odd sounds seemed to grow louder- a faint hissing growing into something resembling a shrieking kettle, coming from something that looked like a spinning top. Helion turned to look at it sharply, his eyes flashing in alarm.

The next moment a flying paper airplane zoomed out of the fireplace and landed smoothly on Helion’s desk. Lucien recognized the Vanserra seal immediately- an oak tree surrounded by a circle of flames, in blood-red wax. Dread slithered down his spine in an icy drip.

The Headmaster tore the memo open, and then jumped to his feet. “Go,” he told Eris urgently. “Alert the others, quietly. Keep a low profile and don’t do anything until my signal.”

Eris clapped Lucien on the back again. “That goes for you too. Don’t do anything crazy. I’ll send word when I can. The third Trial is in a few weeks, I’ll be back then.”

“Go!” Helion pointed his wand towards the fireplace, and flames roared to life. “They’re coming.”

“How did they hear so quickly?” Amren asked. Lucien noticed her hand was shaking as she clenched her wand. Something about that made him jump to his feet also.

“Wait!”

But Eris was already throwing a handful of powder into the fire, and with one last grim wave he disappeared into the emerald fire.

Amren whirled towards him. “Go back to your dormitory at once.”

“Who are they?” Lucien asked urgently, making no move to leave. “Who’s coming?” Although he had a bad feeling he already knew the answer.

“Your father,” Helion said grimly. “Likely to twist this situation to his advantage.” Before Lucien could react the Headmaster stalked around the desk and gripped him by the shoulders. “Lucien, listen to me. It’s very important that nobody else find out about that prophecy. Keep it hidden,” he urged. “Wherever you put it, keep it there. Don’t look at it, don’t show it to anybody. Things could be very bad for Ms Archeron if your father decides she’s more of a threat than he already thinks she is.”

“But-”

“And for Merlin’s sake, Mr Vanserra. Please remind your friends that they are not allowed out of the castle after hours. It’s not safe anymore.”

Lucien was so shocked that he could barely process what Helion was saying. “How did you-“

“Helion!” Amren warned.

The flames in the hearth were glowing emerald once more. From a little table near the Headmaster’s desk the spinning top was whirring madly, hissing a high-pitched noise.

“What is that?”

“A warning,” Helion said darkly, “that my enemies are near.”

A figure appeared in the flames, and then two more. And then his father was stepping out of the flames, flanked by two burly wizards who had to be Aurors. His father’s cold eyes, so like his brothers’ but missing the wry humor, blinked in the briefest hint of surprise before darkening once more.

“Minister,” Helion greeted his father coldly, his tone dripping with disdain.

His father didn’t deign to reply, and instead narrowed his eyes at Lucien. Behind him one of the Aurors nodded towards Helion, almost imperceptibly.

“Lucien,” Amren murmured. “Go back to your dormitory. Now.”

Lucien turned on his heels, for once not inclined to argue.

“Wait.” The Headmaster’s voice made him halt in his tracks. “Lucien is a key witness to what happened here tonight. I’m sure the Ministry will want to hear his account of the events.”

“What is the meaning of this?” Beron asked with a sneer. “Why is the boy here?”

Hearing his own father speak of him as if he wasn’t even in the room jolted him out of his shocked silence. “Because your puppet attacked me today, before flinging himself off the Astronomy tower, that’s why!”

The two Aurors stiffened slightly. Had they not been given all the details?

“He attacked you?” The one who had nodded to Helion asked, his eyes flashing in anger. “Were any other students involved?”

“No, everyone was at the Quidditch match. I was…” Lucien shuffled awkwardly. “I was coming back from detention.”

His father snorted with disdain. “Of course he was. This is nonsense. Why would an upstanding member of the ministry attack a helpless student?”

Lucien opened his mouth to retort, and then shut it again, all too aware of the two strangers in the room- and what it would likely mean for him, if anyone ever found out why Koschei had been so interested in him.

“The real question, Beron, is why one of your lackeys was inside my school, attacking one of my students, while seemingly fighting the influence of a powerful Imperius charm? What did he wish to tell me so badly that he risked coming all this way?”

“Nonsense,” Beron said again, waving a hand impatiently. “I was well aware that Koschei was coming here tonight, as I was the one who sent him here.”

Lucien glanced to the Auror on his father’s left, who was once again looking in the Headmaster’s direction. A slight quirk of his eyebrow was confirmation enough that his father was lying, if he hadn’t already been certain of it.

“Oh?” Amren asked drily. “And for what purpose? And why was he slinking around like a criminal instead of walking in through the front gates like a normal guest?”

“Perhaps he was afraid of the new guards,” Beron replied with an asp’s smile.

“What are you going on about?”

“He means,” Helion replied calmly, pointing to the window, “them.”

All heads turned towards the windows, facing the Hogwarts grounds and the Forbidden Forest in the distance. And facing the tall, imposing figures prowling along the perimeter of the grounds like nightmarish guards. Lucien whipped his head towards the Headmaster, who seemed perfectly unconcerned by the presence of giants on his lawn.

“Precisely. And the reason for Koschei’s presence here tonight. You see, as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, I sent him to negotiate with you on my behalf about the removal of these absurd creatures. But of course you couldn’t see reason, and while protecting himself from you he fell to his death from the top of the Astronomy Tower. A convenient place for a duel, if one wishes to make a murder seem like an accident.”

“What?!” Amren exploded, stalking up to the Minister, shaking from head to foot. “That is a preposterous lie, nobody will believe you.”

Lucien backed up a step towards the door, even though they all seemed to have forgotten he was there. The impossibility of the situation was becoming clear to him, horribly so. People would believe the Ministry’s version of events- or at least, enough to shed doubt on what had really happened.

“Stand down, Deputy Headmistress.” The second Auror spoke for the first time since arriving, his voice nothing but pure menace.

“You do not threaten my teachers inside my school.” Violence seemed to radiate from Helion, enough that the window panes raddled within their frames.

Lucien noted with some satisfaction that his father balked slightly at the power thrumming from the Headmaster. But then his face changed, and he grinned with an awful sort of glee.

“Alas, Headmaster, I’m afraid this school is yours no longer.”

“What?” Lucien blurted.

All heads whipped towards him. “Lucien,” Amren urged. “Go!”

“No need,” Beron crooned. “Let him see how merciful I can be, when faced with criminals. Let him remember his father this way.”

“Why would I-“

“Enough!” Helion thundered. His deep complexion had turned ashen. “If you wish to accuse me of a crime, Minister, then get on with it.”

The Auror to his father’s right stepped forward, his wand clenched in his hand. “Helion Percival Wulfric Brian Spell-Cleaver, you are accused of murder in the first degree of Bartemius Koschei. Whatever titles you previously held, including Headmaster of this school, have now been revoked.”

“You cannot be serious-“

“It’s alright, Amren,” Helion said calmly. He stood up slowly, glancing out the window towards the figures in the distance. A sharp glance in his direction had Lucien backing up a few more steps.

“You will call off all giants on this property and around it, and you will come with us to Azkaban, where you will await sentencing.” The Auror’s slimy grin widened, as if picturing the fate that would await Helion at Azkaban.

“Ahh, see, that’s where you’ve got it wrong.” Helion was still calmly standing behind his desk, though his wand had slipped into his hand. “Because I don't intend to do either of those things.”

“Put down your wand,” the Auror warned, taking a step towards the headmaster.

Another rumble of power rippled through the office, making the floor tremble. Lucien’s back was against the door, but he couldn’t look away from the scene unfolding in front of him.

“I’d suggest you put down yours, Nox,” Amren snarled, standing between the Ministry members and Helion’s desk.

“Amren.” Helion’s tone was deadly calm, as if he wasn’t seconds away from being arrested for a crime he didn’t commit. “Take care of the school. The students need to know what really happened here tonight.”

His father scoffed. “And you seriously believe anyone will believe the word of a madman and a delinquent teenager?”

Helion turned towards Beron with a savage grin. “I’d suggest you stay far away from this castle, Minister, and advise your men to do the same. My new guards, as you call them, are extremely loyal to me. And by extension, this school.”

“That’s enough,” Beron drawled. “Take him.”

Both Aurors’ wands rose in unison, but not quickly enough. Before either of them could do much as open their mouths, a burst of light flared from Helion’s wand, sending them sprawling to the floor. Lucien’s hand closed around the doorknob, but before he could wrench the door open Helion’s gaze flicked towards him.

“Help will always come to Hogwarts students who need it,” he said cryptically.

He outstretched his arm, and in a flutter of wings a vibrant phoenix swooped from his perch near the door. The two Aurors were jumping to their feet, but with another flash of light both Headmaster and phoenix had disappeared into thin air.

Lucien yanked the door open and hurtled down the stairs, not waiting to see his father’s reaction, or Amren’s. The halls were deserted, all students having made their way back for their respective dormitories, and his footsteps echoed as he sprinted back towards Gryffindor tower. He didn’t dare stop until the Fat Lady came into view.

“Bubbling brooks! BUBBLING BROOKS!!!”

“Alright, alright,” she huffed, though she appeared alarmed at his appearance. “All this fuss tonight.”

He almost tripped over the portrait hole, and once he was inside he blinked in surprise at the room full of students, none of whom seemed to have any interest in going to bed.

“Lucien!”

“Merlin, where were you?”

“Is it true?”

“Did they find Koschei?”

“Did he really attack you?”

“Helion,” Lucien croaked, his mind spinning from what he’d just witnessed. “They…He’s gone. The Headmaster’s gone.”

Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added/removed!):@labellefleur-sauvage @headcanonheadcase @separatist-apologist @velidewrites @c-e-d-dreamer @queercontrarian @hallway5 @areyoudreaminof @tuzna-pesma-snova @corcracrow @vulpes-fennec @octobers-veryown @autumndreaming7 @sunshinebingo @asnowfern

#fuck you Beron #elucien #elucien fanfiction #elucien fanfic #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #how many references can I fit into one chapter

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acourtofthought · 9 months

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What if one of the reasons why Elain wanted an affair with Az was “three brothers x three sisters” too?

In ACOSF we can see how she is trying her best to fit in the IC, to forge a bond with the Night Court, but we also know that, despite all her effort, that is not her place. The colours of the Night Court just “suck life” out from her, while all she need is sunshine.

Her argument with Nesta at the beginning of the book also suggest that the reason why “she chose Feyre” above Nesta was to take the easy way, to be safe and protected by the IC.

So that’s why, in my opinion, she could want to be with Az, one of her sister’s best friends (al least, one of the reasons), while choosing her bond with Lucien means facing her trauma, being with the man who “ruined” her engagement with the human she loved. It means accepting to becoming a Fae, that her previous life will never be back.

Not only E/riel will add nothing to the plot itself (since Lucien and Elain are the couple whose travel will lead them to the spring court, to the continent, to defeat Beron etc), but it would also be useless for the growth of Az, Lucien and Elain.

She would continue to choose the easy way and to hide behind someone (who at first were her sisters, while if e/riel happens Azriel). She would force herself to live in a place that she will never be able to call home.

Az, on the other hand, would never realise his dream to have a mate ( I REFUSE to believe in the fake mating bond theory) and would spend his life with someone who will never be completely his.

Also, why should have the author introduced the flirt between him and Gwyn? Why to make his shadows dance when she is nearby? Because she is eViL or to add some drama to an eventual E/riel book that would have zero plot and character development?

Ps: your blog is my daily elucien sunshine, and if toxic haters spend their day reading your posts and getting upset about them, maybe it’s because you don’t lack of reading comprehension.

I'm so so sorry because I know it's taken me forever to respond 😭

But I think you may be on to something.

It is probably an extremely normal reaction to try and grow where you're planted especially when your life just turned upside down.

Elain lost her fiance, her humanity, her human life. She's in a strange world that is probably overwhelming and scary for her. So why would she try and rock the boat after her world was shaken up like that? Why wouldn't she try to find safety and comfort where her sisters are (the two people most familiar to her) and within the cozy little circle of friends Feyre had built for herself? Especially when she sees how volitile Nesta acted when Lucien was around?

For Elain, it would be so much easier if she could find a way to be happy in the NC. If she could have friends and a romantic interest there so she didn't have to go through any other changes. I don't know what Elain saw when Lucien agreed to go search for Vassa however she was looking at him and Feyre mentions having no idea what she was thinking. So maybe she did have a vision that he was going to meet friends on his journey, that he was not going to end up permanently in the NC and maybe that's not something Elain was willing to consider while processing her trauma, the thought of leaving. Maybe she hated that she felt pulled to Lucien knowing that being with him and leaving (at that time) were more than she could handle. So she set out to prove to herself that she could be happy in the NC and happy with the available brother to her sisters mates. Because that would just all be so easy, right? Three brothers with three sisters living together in one place.

But eventually "with time and safety", just like Rhys mentioned, different sides of a person emerge. Just like Feyre needed time and safety with Tamlin after a lifetime of hunger and poverty but ended up growing into someone different once she got that, there's a real chance that Elain will admit that things weren't fitting like she hoped they would and no matter how much she tried to join in on the ICs found family, she never quite belonged.

And you're right, why introduce Gwyn as a possible love interest for Az if he's supposed to be with Elain? SJM already set up a "triangle" of sorts between Mor / Az / Elain and Lucien / Elain / Az even though neither is your typical love triangle. But really, those are drama enough and adding yet another female so it's "Az is in love with Mor / Az is sexually interested in Elain / Elain is willing to kiss Az / Gwyn is flirting with Az while Az is showing admiration for her and noting that her happiness brings a smile to his face" is highly unnecessary. She has already ruined the love story of Az and Elain by adding Gwyn in there who has now garnered emotions that he should have been extending to Elain.

As far as plot, there really is nothing currently connecting Elain and Az to any major plot. It was Lucien they stationed in Spring and Elain who Nesta said Spring had been made for. If SJM wanted Az and Elain to go on a journey together then she would have found a way to place Az in Spring. Same thing with the continent. It was Lucien setting his sight on Koschei, Lucien's friend whose time is up and Elain who Nesta wondered if she'd go to the continent.

At the end of the day, one character hooking up with another character doesn't mean anything especially when SJM keeps finding ways to demonstrate how those two characters aren't compatible and are being set on different paths.

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shadowisles-writes · 2 years

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Tethered (Part 1) [Elucien]

A/N: This is my first contribution to the acotar writing circle. It’s an elucien college AU and I can’t wait to see what becomes of it after this part! I’d like to say a huge thank you to everyone taking part in this event, I’m so happy to see it all coming together!

ACOTAR Writing Circle Masterlist

Word count: 2591

Elain’s first week at the University of Velaris was not a success. She had joined the conservation biology course two weeks after the semester started and missed all of the events that she was supposed to attend to make friends. With groups already formed she didn’t know anyone except her roommate and her boyfriend, and she was already sick of third wheeling. Lectures weren’t terrible to attend by herself, but lab hours were a struggle as she was stuck at the bench at the very back of the room and could barely hear the professor giving instructions.

Worst of all, Elain was now stuck outside of her building by herself in the middle of the night. The fire alarm blared so loud her head was starting to hurt, and she was freezing in her stupidly thin pajamas while the rest of the building was huddled in little groups with blankets. Clearly they had already gotten used to the fire alarm going off at random times. Wishing Vassa hadn’t left her alone tonight, Elain wrapped her arms around herself and walked back and forth along the side of the building in an effort to stay warm.

No one else seemed to notice her. It wasn’t like she was making an effort to talk to them either, but couldn’t they realize that approaching a group of over five people was intimidating when you were alone? Elain stopped glancing towards them soon enough, opting to stare at her bare, frozen feet in pink slippers as they moved in small steps.

“Are you alright?” A man’s voice interrupted her pacing. “You must be freezing.”

“I’m fine,” Elain lied as a habit and looked up at him before she glanced towards the door hopefully. “Shouldn’t be too long until we get to go back in, right?”

“I think it might still be a while,” he slid a forest green blanket off his shoulders and offered it to her. “Here.”

“Oh,” Elain grasped the soft fabric and immediately felt the warmth on her fingers. She was too cold to politely refuse so that he wouldn’t get cold himself and promptly wrapped it around her body. “Thank you.”

His answering smile nearly made her swoon. How was it possible for a man to be so beautiful? Elain didn’t typically have a thing for men with long hair, but the red strands that framed his face complimented his dark skin and russet eyes so well that she didn’t even want to imagine what he might look like with short hair. It was only when she was done examining his sharp features that she realized she was using his blanket but didn’t even know his name.

“I’m Elain, I’m new,” she held out her hand and internally cringed at the second half of her introduction. Why did she have to be so awkward when meeting people?

“Lucien,” he shook it with a gentle but firm grip. “And I can tell. We’ve all been through this too many times to leave our rooms without something warm, soon enough people will start dragging their whole beds outside.”

Elain couldn’t help a chuckle from escaping her lips. Some people had already brought snacks, so perhaps beds weren’t far from being next. “Thanks for the blanket, Lucien. I hope you’re not getting too cold because of me.” She frowned, taking in his attire.

“It’s nothing, I run hot anyway,”

“Clearly,” Elain blurted out and immediately cursed herself.

He would have to, to stand so comfortably in dark sweatpants and a matching crewneck. Elain prayed that he would make the connection between his clothes and the weather rather than realize she found him ridiculously hot. She was such an embarrassment.

Elain blushed at her own thoughts and looked down. Her slippers looked dumb compared to his comfortable sneakers, as did the rest of her pajamas. Her daily outfits were always cute and classy to give her the confidence she was seriously lacking in this kind of situation. No one but Vassa was supposed to see her like this, and guys like Lucien were only supposed to run into her when she was nicely dressed with her hair done.

“So, can I ask why you’re joining a few weeks after everyone else?” He crossed his arm over his broad chest and Elain looked up again.

There was still an easy smile on his face, not awkward or judgemental, just friendly like he could tell she was uncomfortable—with the way she was standing, an idiot could have figured it out—and wanted to put her at ease.

“My sister had an accident—she’s okay now,” Elain quickly added when she saw his eyes slightly widen. “Long story short, it wasn’t that big of a deal in the end, but my other sister was away so I didn’t want to leave her alone until I was sure she’d be fine.”

“So you have two sisters?”

Elain nodded. “I’m the middle child. You?”

“Three brothers, I… I’m the youngest,” Lucien answered.

“Wow. Don’t get me wrong, I love my sisters, but I couldn’t deal with one more,” she joked, thinking of all the fights she got in with Feyre and Nesta.

Lucien breathed out a chuckle, but it didn’t hide the way his smile fell for a second. Elain was filled with the sense that she had said something wrong and had no idea how to fix it. She was thankfully saved by the arrival of a black car with their university’s logo on it and everyone else stirring as they itched to get back inside. They got caught in the large group of people by the door, waiting for the man that had come to give them the all clear.

Lucien’s name was called by someone, and a second later he was pulled further back by his friends. Elain was too short to see exactly where he had gone, and she completely lost track of where he could be when the students began filing back into their rooms. Caught in the flow, she walked up the stairs and uselessly glanced around for a glimpse of his red hair to give him his blanket back. Elain unlocked her door once she reached the third floor and stood halfway in, waiting to see if he’d walk past, but she was soon staring at an empty and silent corridor.

If she didn’t want to knock on every single door in the building, Elain would have to wait until she ran into him again to be able to give that blanket back.

Elain shamelessly slept wrapped in the forest green blanket for two weeks. The warm, musky scent of it had driven her right to sleep the night of the fire alarm and every night after that. It was slowly wearing off, but it was still strong enough when she brought the fabric to her face and took a deep, comforting inhale. Vassa thankfully hadn’t asked about where it came from.

They had become incredibly close in the short amount of time they had shared this room, admitting things they had never told anyone else. There was just something about four am conversations that drove the honesty right out of someone. Sometimes, like when Elain told Vassa of the things her ex had done, they’d sit in the same bed and hug until they fell asleep. Others, they’d laugh so loud they probably woke their neighbors up and went to sleep in between fits of giggles and stupid jokes.

Elain kept the blanket with her when she was in her room during the day too, sitting on her bed and draping it over her shoulders while she read or studied with a cup of tea. She was in that exact position when Vassa came into their room on a Thursday evening accompanied by two men. Elain recognized Jurian’s voice immediately, and she didn’t care that she was in a lazy outfit whenever he visited. She was, however, incredibly embarrassed when Lucien filed into the small room after him.

“Elain,” he smiled when he noticed her. “I didn’t know you were Vassa’s roommate.”

“I didn’t know you knew Vassa,” she replied dumbly, watching his eyes take in the messy bun she had pulled her hair in and his blanket on her shoulders. Elain quickly undid the bun and tried to smooth out her curls into something that looked more acceptable, but she doubted it did much to help her appearance.

“I texted you,” Vassa said as she noticed her discomfort.

Elain wished she had seen the text and took her phone off silent for the rest of the night. “It’s fine,” she dismissed with a shrug that made the blanket fall off her shoulders.

Great. Now she could either wrap it around her again even though she should have already given it back to Lucien, or she could let him see the ugly old concert hoodie she had stolen from Feyre before she moved here. She wished she could look effortlessly pretty in it like her younger sister did, but that privilege seemed to belong to her only.

Elain chose to ignore the blanket, and she was quickly distracted by her phone ringing. What now? Graysen’s name appeared on her screen and made her freeze for a second.

“Oh hell no,” Vassa saw the caller ID and glared at Elain when she tried to reach for it. “Don’t you dare,” she nearly growled as she snatched the phone away and hit deny. “I told you to block his number!”

“Who was that?” Lucien asked.

“No one,” Elain said at the same time as Vassa slammed the phone down on her nightstand and covered her voice with hers.

“An abusive piece of shit.”

Elain felt her face heat up with anger and embarrassment. “Vassa!”

“I don’t care if you have to be pissed at me for the rest of your life,” her roommate ignored Lucien and Jurian’s presence. “You are not getting this phone back until you’ve blocked him and deleted all of his contact info.”

“Are you crazy?” Elain exploded, trying to reach for it only for Vassa to expertly dodge her. “What is wrong with you?”

“You’ll thank me later,” she quickly undid the latch on the window and chucked the phone out of it without a hint of hesitation.

The two women stared at each other for a few moments after the distinct crack of a phone breaking was heard. Vassa stood her ground, her head high as she watched Elain’s eyes fill with angry tears. Lucien and Jurian remained silent, knowing that interfering with Vassa's fiery personality would do nothing to help either of them calm down.

Elain’s lower lip trembled as she clenched her fists by her side and quickly turned to storm out of the room. How could she have done this to her? Vassa had to be fucking insane to just smash her phone like that. And in front of Jurian and Lucien too. Big teardrops leaked out of her eyes and rolled down her cheeks as she stomped down the stairs and kicked the door of their building open to get some fresh air.

Elain swallowed a big gulp of cold night air as soon as she was able to, but it did nothing to cool the fury inside of her.

“Elain!” Lucien’s voice reached her as she got away from the building, but she didn’t have it in her to slow down. “Elain! Where are you going?” He called, following after her.

“Anywhere.”

“You didn’t take your key,”

“I’m not going back to that room anyway.”

“Elain,” Lucien jogged up to her and touched her shoulder to stop her. “You can’t just walk off alone at night,”

“I am so sick of everyone telling me what I can and can’t do!” She exploded as she turned towards him, eyes rimmed red from crying.

“Listen.” He insisted with a calm voice. “You can go breathe and walk for a while if that’s what you need, but staying out stranded all night is stupid no matter how angry you are. Just take this, okay?” He pressed a key into her hand without giving her a chance to ask questions. “I’ll be out until tomorrow,” was all he said before turning around and leaving her alone.

Elain bit back more tears and stomped off, clutching the key in her hand so hard it hurt.

She was forced to admit he was right a few hours later. Her eyes were swollen and painful from all the crying, and her cheeks were frozen from all the tears that had spilled on them in the cold. Elain had to hide her hands in the sleeves of the hoodie to keep them from turning blue, and she had no choice but to walk back to the dorms. A small number was carved in Lucien’s key, indicating which room he lived in and giving Elain a chance to stay warm for the night.

It took little effort to find it on the first floor, and Elain was surprised to find out he didn’t even have a roommate. Lucky bastard had a single room. She dropped the key on his desk and quickly kicked her slippers off to fall into his bed and wrap herself in his duvet. The comforting scent she had gotten used to from his blanket was all around her then, soothing her enough to stop more tears from stinging at the back of her eyes.

Elain grabbed a few tissues from his bedside table and wiped her face before forcing herself to slow her breathing into a steady rhythm. Gradually, she was able to take in the room in more detail. It was tidy save for a few shirts draped over his chair, and there was almost no decoration except for a single family picture on the desk. Judging that if it was exposed so openly there was no harm in looking at it, Elain reached for the frame.

A woman with hair as red as Lucien’s stood at the back next to a brown haired man that seemed all too serious when everyone else in the picture was smiling. She tried to identify Lucien and looked for the youngest boy, but she was surprised to find the smallest ones were red haired twins. Surely Lucien would have mentioned being a twin. It was only then that she realized he was supposed to have three brothers, and she could count six little boys in the picture.

They were standing according to size, so Elain assumed it was a sign of their age. The first three had hair darker than Lucien’s, much closer to brown than red, but their features were all similar. Lucien was the fourth, she could easily recognize the shape of his nose and his smile now, and the last two looked like smaller copies of him.

“Three brothers, I… I’m the youngest,”

“Wow. Don’t get me wrong, I love my sisters, but I couldn’t deal with one more,”

No wonder Lucien’s face fell when she had said that if he had lost two little brothers.

Elain’s heart squeezed as she realized how horribly she had treated him earlier in her burst of anger. He had done nothing but be kind since she met him, and she had yelled at him when he was only trying to help. She’d have apologies to give him when he came back in the morning.

Until then, Elain replaced the frame where it belonged and buried her face in his pillow to fall asleep.

Tags: @shisingh @ruthieluvsbooks @a_little_disguised @earthofemily @halaberdara @sydney-fae25 @meher_sumedha @nspwriteups @separatist-apologist @velidewrites @the-lonelybarricade @hlizr50 @ofduskanddreams @headcanonheadcase @crazy-cool-girl-blog @thehaemanthus @thestarseternal @shadowsingerofnight @violet-shadows

#acotarwritingcircle #elucien #elucien fanfiction #elucien au #elucien fic #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #elain x lucien #elain archeron x lucien vanserra #acotar fanfiction

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moononastring · 3 years

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Elucien Daily Thought ✨

Whenever Lucien is returning home from a trip outside of their court, Elain’s way of saying hello is to send Lucien a message through the bond telling him, “I can hear your heart.”

To which Lucien always replies, “It’s on its way home to you.”

#elucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #elucien headcanons #elain x lucien #lucien x elain #elucien daily thought #birthday month countdown #mine #my final thought in honor of the bday haha

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darling-archeron · 2 years

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If You Don't Ask Me to Stay - Elucien

Another Solstice has come, and Lucien has all but given up on receiving any sort of acknowledgment from Elain. But an unexpected meeting reveals surprising truths about both of them, and may change the course of their relationship forever. An Elucien fic where Lucien yearns, Elain finally smiles, and both of them communicate.

Word Count: 5.7k

Lucien had become accustomed to disappointment around Solstice. Every year as he made the journey from wherever his travels had taken him back to Velaris, he wondered if he was making a mistake. For all of the spiced eggnog and joyful carolers, visiting the Night Court was equal parts anticipation and torture.

For one, there was the reminder that while Feyre included him in their festivities, he wasn’t truly a part of her inner circle. Likely never would be. Rhysand was, of course, always pleasant, but years as a courier led Lucien to believe that half of those manners were only because Feyre demanded it. And as for the rest…well, they didn’t really know them at all, did they?

Including Elain.

His mate.

The first solstice, after the war, he had tried to avoid feeling too crushed when she avoided him. She had been High Fae for less than a year, and the wounds were still too deep, too new. He knew that Elain was still mourning the loss of her human love, and Lucien was painfully aware that those things took time. Hell, he was still nursing his wounds after centuries.

Of course, it hadn’t been Elain who had told him that. It had been Feyre. She was reluctant to share too much out of respect for her sister’s privacy, and Lucien valued that, as much as he yearned to learn more about the woman who was both a stranger to him and tethered closer than any other.

The second solstice had been harder. He had spent hours in one of the continent’s finest jewelry shops, trying to decide on a piece Elain would like. A bejeweled necklace seemed too showy for her everyday attire. Most bracelets would likely only hinder her gardening. And rings had obviously been out of the question. Eventually, he had settled on a pair of delicate pearl earrings. Simple, but lovely. Something she could wear on the daily if she chose, or reserve for fancier occasions.

But she had shrunk away from him, made a point of sitting as far away from him as he could get. It was almost worse than her not being there at all.

He had tried to make conversation on a few occasions, the most notable being the time he had stopped by Velaris unexpectedly and found Elain outside. Not gardening, surprisingly. Just sitting in the late afternoon sun, soaking in the warmth on her pale skin.

She had jumped to her feet when she saw him. They had exchanged a few forced pleasantries, coasting through as the courier and the socialite. Trained in politeness and manners, and yet they could barely get through a few minutes of small talk. Never mind that every bone in his body screamed at him to talk to her, to know her, to hold her.

Oh, if only she would let him.

There was one memory of her that intrigued him. He indulged in it only when it was feeling particularly pathetic, for it was of the sole time that she had smiled at him.

It had been just after the final battle with Hybern. The ghost of her father still hung over all of them, she had just taken her first life, and they were both covered in blood. But she had afforded him a small smile, like a rose blooming amongst the muddy ground.

He thought about that smile more than he cared to admit.

Those few and tangled interactions brought him to this solstice. He had barely been in the Night Court this year, had hardly seen Elain. He had been kept busy trying to sort his shit out, figure out how he wanted to spend eternity.

Presently, Lucien breathed in the brisk air of frost-covered Velaris. He had dropped off his gifts at the mercifully empty townhouse and then decided to go for a walk to pass the time. It seemed a little pathetic, and yet here he was.

He would be due for dinner soon. The sun was rapidly setting below the horizon, reflecting onto the icy surface of the Sidra.

The walk back to the townhouse passed all too quickly, and Lucien found himself on Feyre and Rhys’s doorstep. He knew he didn’t need to knock; he could hear the sounds of chatter faintly through the wood.

He paused for a moment, closing his eyes and wondering if he would be able to pick out one voice over the others. He could have sworn he heard her gentle laugh, polite and stifled.

Or maybe it was only wishful thinking.

Bracing himself, Lucien twisted the doorknob and entered the townhouse before someone saw him standing on the steps like an idiot.

“Lucien!” Feyre exclaimed, springing to her feet and padding into the entryway to greet him. She was the picture of health, dressed in a tight-fitting silvery velvet gown. “I was wondering where you were.”

She pulled him into a tight hug, and Lucien awkwardly let his arms fall around her. “You know I wouldn’t miss the roast duck your cook makes for anything.”

Feyre pulled away, mirth dancing in her eyes. “Well, you’re going to be sorely disappointed. Cerridwen made ham this year.”

“You wound me,” he replied. “Happy Birthday, Feyre.”

This was the way it was easiest between them. Laughing jokes, ignoring the more serious issues that swam just below the surface. And yet, even that felt like it didn’t quite fit right.

Feyre led him into the crowded living room where everyone lounged as they waited for dinner to be served. He was the last to arrive. Cassian and Varian sat by the fire, quipping over a sporting event, Amren leaning over Varian’s shoulder to interject her strong opinions. Cassian called out a greeting as Lucien appeared through the threshold, beckoning Lucien over.

Rhys and Mor were bickering over the addition of what appeared to be some last-minute decorations. The former held Nyx to his chest, bouncing the sleepy baby. Nesta lounged on a chaise nearby, eyebrows raised as she watched the exchange. Lastly, his eyes found Azriel, who was leaning up against a wall, looking only slightly less miserable than he had the year prior.

But one person was missing.

“Dinner is almost ready. Elain’s been preparing all afternoon with Nuala and Cerridwen,” Feyre commented, answering the question he didn’t have to ask.

“They always do fine work. I’m sure it’ll be delicious.”

Lucien made his way over to Cassian and Varian’s side just in time to hear the end of their sporting debate – both males were obsessive supporters of opposing teams – and exchanged a brief greeting with Nesta.

He didn’t know what to make of the eldest Archeron, the viper. She no longer regarded him with open hostility as she had during the War or the months after. He knew Nesta had been through a lot, had been working loosening the protective grip she felt towards Elain. Maybe it was enough to get her to stop watching him with murder in her eyes.

“Dinner is ready!” Called an all-too-familiar voice from the dining room.

Lucien felt like he had to steel himself for battle just as Elain poked her head through the door. “Don’t let it get cold!”

His mate was a vision. She wore a long dress of deep purple. Darker than what he had usually seen her wear. Somehow, she had managed to stay clean despite her work in the kitchen, though he noted a dirty apron slung over one arm. Slightly puffy long sleeves draped over her arms, and the high neckline kept the cut modest. Still, he had to stop himself from drinking her in like a person starved.

His mate, his mate, his mate, who he hadn’t seen in months.

She looked healthy and content, the same as the last time he had seen her. A change from those initial weeks where she had sat catatonic.

But still, there was something withdrawn in her manner. As if every movement was practiced, every word thought out in advance.

Elain’s gaze drifted across the room, and Lucien felt it in his bones when their eyes locked. Her breath hitched, eyes widening as she spun around. His heart squeezed, the familiar pain creeping back upon him.

She wants nothing to do with you.

Why would she?

Lucien knew that mating bonds weren’t made for love matches. But his heart sang for her because he wanted so badly to try, to see if love could come of this rare thing. To see if the Cauldron had indeed picked well.

He wondered if the others thought he was as pathetic as he felt. Lucien knew he was very poor at hiding the yearning when he watched his mate/

The group sat down around the dining room table, eager to dig into the delicious meal. The wine was poured, and laughter rang out freely. Elain brushed off compliments and blushed.

“Nuala and Cerridwen did most of the work. I just helped,” she insisted. She had positioned herself on the far end of the table between Cassian and Mor. Lucien sat on the other end entirely, sandwiched between Rhys and Varian.

Cauldron, Lucien didn’t know if he could do another year of this.

For not the first time, he wondered if he had wasted his time coming. Vassa and Jurian had tried to convince him to spend the week with them. Mortals didn’t celebrate Solstice, rarely celebrated any holidays at all. But maybe pretending it was just another week would have been easier.

Then Lucien wouldn’t have to pretend he had a place here.

Then Elain wouldn’t be looking nauseous over her mashed potatoes.

Maybe this would be the last time. He would deliver his gifts and share stories of his travels, and leave at a reasonable hour. Tomorrow, he would drop in again for a few minutes to bid Feyre farewell.

And then he would leave. And not return unless business demanded it.

Dinner passed by in a haze, and then dessert. As per usual, a birthday cake had been made for Feyre, who was turning 23. This one was three tiers, frosted with all colors of the rainbow, almost to look like watercolor. A cake that was a work of art in itself, and very on-brand for the High Lady.

Eventually, Mor hustled them all back over to the living room where the pile of gifts was stacked high. She placed herself in charge of handing them out, placing the first brightly wrapped package within little Nyx’s grasp. Lucien settled in and watched the organized chaos unfold.

Naturally, everyone had given Amren a piece of shiny, showy jewelry. For nearly everyone else, Mor had purchased a brightly colored sweater with the person’s initials embroidered across it. The night wore on and on.

Feyre had gifted Elain with a set of bulbs for her garden – ones that would bloom during winter. Picked up from her visit to the Winter Court. Elain's face lit up at the sight of the unfamiliar bulbs, and she pulled her sister into a quick hug. The gems woven into Elain’s long hair glinted in the firelight as she moved. Lucien was hypnotized just by looking at them.

To him, Feyre had given a long, cream-colored overcoat.

“To keep you warm on all your adventures,” she said with a smile.

He thanked her and meant it. It was a well-made, well-thought gift.

The pile of gifts gradually dwindled. Feyre beamed in delight when she unwrapped his gift to her, a set of vibrant pastels. And everyone’s heart had softened a bit as they watched her slide the baby booties he had gifted Nyx on the child’s little feet.

At last, Mor distributed the final few gifts. Lucien had made a point of avoiding looking at the purple-wrapped package that he had dropped off earlier in the day, though he had debated setting it aflame and forgetting the whole thing. Elain hadn’t ever appeared to wear the pearls or the gloves, why should this year be any different?

But the package was in her hands eventually, and he watched as she carefully tore away ribbon and paper to reveal his gift. After much deliberation, he had settled on a set of floral teas. Shaped into flower blossoms, when they were placed into hot water they would burst.

Her eyes widened as she examined them, and Lucien once more braced himself to have his attempt crushed. But she looked at him – Cauldron, she looked him in the eyes, and the expression on her face wasn’t a grimace.

“They’re lovely. Thank you,” she said softly, immediately casting her eyes back down.

“You’re welcome,” Lucien heard himself reply.

He could practically feel the surprise radiating off Feyre, who was doing nothing to hide her shock. The snoop.

He could scarcely believe it himself. Two and a half years of shrinking back and avoidance, and suddenly – what appeared to be a genuine thank you? Had his gift been that wonderful? He had previously accepted that it didn’t matter what the gift was, but who it was from that made the difference to Elain.

The gift-giving wrapped up shortly after. Cassian opened the final present of the night – expensive whiskey from Rhys – but of course, the merriment continued. Lucien began wondering when it would become an acceptable time to make his escape.

Cauldron, didn’t anyone else feel this straining awkwardness, like they didn’t belong? But Varian looked quite relaxed with Amren curled up next to him. Even Nesta, who had been a bit wary last year, now looked as at ease as he had ever seen her.

And Elain – well, he couldn’t read her. He had never been able to. But she sat in a chair by the fire, talking with Mor and Feyre about the former’s most recent travels.

The night slipped away as quickly as the wine and brandy. Everyone went back for seconds, and then thirds, of the cake. At last, nearing one in the morning, Amren stood.

“We’re leaving. I don’t want to hear a single one of you complain about being tired or hungover tomorrow,” the tiny woman said, slipping on a fluffy white coat and piling her new boxes of jewelry high. Varian stood at her side, dutifully holding the ones she couldn’t carry.

“I should head out, too. I’ll be asleep on my feet if I stay much longer,” Lucien said as he got to his feet.

Feyre stood, ready to show her friend to the door. “You’ll come by tomorrow before you leave?”

He nodded. “Of course. I’ll stop over around noon.”

He set off from the townhouse, the collar of his new coat upturned against the brisk wind that rolled in from the sea. All along the street were quaint houses, most of them lit up with their Solstice festivities. As he kept walking, approaching the inn where he had booked a room, he passed by a few parties. Each celebrating in their own, rowdy way.

At last, Lucien reached the inn, climbing up three flights of twisting stairs before reaching his room on the top floor. Small and cozy for only one night. A forest-green patterned wallpaper matched with the russet rug on the floor, and an abstract painting on the wall had a leaflike pattern.

It felt like a cruel joke. Why this, when he was in the heart of the Night Court?

The colors, the patterns – all reminiscent of the Autumn Court, which shone like a trove full of rich color. Once, he had a room in the Forest Palace with a rug nearly the same shade.

Muttering a curse under his breath, Lucien splashed a bit of water on his face from the basin on the dresser and changed into a softer set of clothes. When he finally flopped into bed with none of a warrior’s grace, two brown eyes stared at him from the ceiling.

Then he would blink, and they would change. They turned hazel, and he no longer saw Elain’s hesitance and observance. Only the cold, dead gaze of someone long buried.

Hours passed before sleep claimed him.

The sun rose strong and bright, bringing enough warmth to melt away the frost that had crept onto the windows.

The townhouse was quiet when he made his way back there at midday. Again, he didn’t bother to knock, and the door swung open easily. He entered and was greeted with complete silence.

“Hello?” Lucien called. Not a soul was in the living room, though it was still full of wrapping paper and empty plates. Clearly, the High Lord and Lady had given their servants some time off. But even uncrowded with people, the cozy townhouse seemed so alive. Each piece of furniture and knickknack had a meaning, and the worn couches only made it more loved.

Either way, the house appeared devoid of people; his sharp hearing didn’t pick up any sounds of movement. He sighed, turning to leave. Feyre had obviously gotten distracted with Cauldron knew what.

He turned to leave, but the sudden sound of soft footsteps caught his attention. He turned back around, and – there was his mate.

The last person he had expected to see. She was dressed for the day in a simple dark pink gown. Her hair was pulled back into a low bun, a few strands escaping to frame his face. Per usual, her locks were still carefully arranged to hide the lengthened, pointed tips of her ears. The one undeniable sign that she had become High Fae.

Elain didn’t look surprised to see him, didn’t turn to flee back up the stairs. Could she feel the rope in his chest pulling tight and drawing them together? Her eyes scanned him up and down. Searching. Seeing.

“My lady,” he breathed. “I was just looking for Feyre. Is she here?”

Elain shook her head, ever so slightly. “No – no she isn’t.”

“Then – would you tell her I said goodbye?”

“Yes,” she responded, and Lucien didn’t know why he had been expecting anything more. Truthfully, this little interaction was already much more than he had expected.

“I hope you had a pleasant solstice. Goodbye, Lady.” He turned again to leave.

“Wait!” The sound was so quick, so soft, that he could have missed it. But he spun around again.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“Back to the human lands for a while. Jurian and Vassa are still living in an old castle there. After that, I might visit the human kingdoms on the continent. I won’t be back in Velaris for quite some time.”

You won’t have to see me for quite some time.

“Won’t Rhys and Azriel need your reports?”

“I can do those from afar. I already send most of the information through letters.”

She paused, still standing on the staircase. Light shone in from a stained-glass window, casting her in shades of gold and red.

“What it is like – the continent?”

“It’s…wholly different from Prythian. Different from the human lands here, too. Much of it is desert, as far as the eye can see. Just golden sand and the hot sun,” he replied, trying to conjure up some of the poetry he used to be able to create as easy as breathing. “But parts of it are wholly different. There are rainforests, lush and green with some of the strangest flowers and animals I’ve ever seen. But it’s beautiful. Even the desert has its beauty. The continent is large enough that even the human lands contain so much.”

Elain was silent for a moment, considering his answer. “I used to want to see it. I wanted to journey there with my father and see it all. I thought that perhaps even Nesta and Feyre would want to come along.”

Lucien didn’t know what to say, shocked that she was sharing this little piece of herself at all.

“I’m sure you could still go. I would consider it a shame to live without seeing what the world has to offer.”

She shook her head. “Maybe. But I have all of eternity, and no desire to go by myself.” There was an unspoken truth in her voice. Feyre had a court to run, and Nesta’s home was here. If the Valkyrie ever did decide to travel, it would be at a different time.

There was certainly no invitation in her quiet words, and he resisted the urge to tell her that he would gladly travel any desert, and landscape at all if she was by his side.

“You’ll get there one day. As you said, you have eternity,” he offered weakly.

Eternity. That was what their lives were, what this bond was between them.

“Maybe,” she said. She opened her mouth again slightly as if to say more, before pursing her lips tightly.

“Have you ever traveled beyond in Prythian beyond Velaris?” he ventured.

“Not much. I traveled with the armies during the war, but there wasn’t much to see beyond the battlefields. A few months ago, Feyre, Nyx, and I visited one of the Night Court’s coastal towns for a few days. And I’ve been to Hewn City, once.”

It was the most she had ever said to him at once, and Lucien struggled to take it all in.

Elain straightened her spine, correcting near-perfect posture, and suddenly looked very much like a soldier readying for battle. Like he suspected he had looked last night, entering the Solstice party.

“Would you – would you like to sit down for tea?” she asked.

Lucien hid his shock, recalling the memory of the last time they had tea. Their very first, endlessly uncomfortable conversation.

“I would,” he responded, suddenly the one who couldn’t come up with any words.

She nodded again and finished her descent down the stairs, immediately disappearing into the kitchen. Lucien still stood in the entryway like a fool, trying to decide if he should wait for her cue or follow. After a moment, he went into the dining room, hesitantly calling into the kitchen.

“Would you like any help?”

“No, it’ll only be a moment. You can go wait in the parlor, if you’d like,” Elain called back.

Lucien left the dining room, only to realize that he didn’t exactly know where the parlor was. His time in this house had been limited to Solstices and a few occasions during the War. After peering into a few rooms, he found it. A cozy, wallpapered room with an expensive rug spread across the hardwood floor. He studied the floorboards, trying to decide what kind of wood they were made of.

Eventually, his gaze traveled to the table, which had somehow escaped his initial notice.

The small table had been set perfectly for two in a matching, expensive-looking green tea set. A few different plates of Solstice sweets sat in the middle. Sugar-dusted scones, little chocolate truffles, and frosted cookies in the shape of stars and snowflakes.

She had been expecting him. Planned for this.

He couldn’t quite identify the feeling in his chest, and his heart was beating so fast.

Could she hear it?

He looked around the room, letting his gaze roam, and tried to focus, tried not to let his thoughts get a thousand steps ahead of him.

But how could he not?

Was this a rejection?

Could he handle it if it was?

Elain popped in, teapot in hand.

“Please, sit,” she said, carefully pouring a cup for him, and then one for herself.

Her face was…not grave, exactly, but…strained. Carefully neutral. As if she was convincing herself to sit down with every breath.

He could indeed hear her heartbeat when he listened for it. Beating just as quickly as his own.

But they both sat across from each other. Lucien took one of the scones and bit into it. Ripe cherry – his favorite.

“Nuala made the desserts yesterday,” Elain commented, dispelling any ideas that she had made him the food. She likely knew it, too. “I don’t know how she found time for it all in between everything else.”

“She is certainly a talented chef if she had time for all of this and Feyre’s cake.”

Elain nodded her agreement. “She and Cerridwen have taught me so much. Prythian has so many delicacies that the mortal realms have never dreamed of.”

He resisted the urge to ask her if she had any other friends beyond Rhysand’s maids. She was charming and bright when she wasn’t around him, surely if she chose, she could have a whole slew of friends. But he only ever saw or heard about her with Feyre’s family and their servants.

He realized that he had once again let an awkward silence fall, and took a sip of tea just for something to do. It was strong spearmint.

Was this the same skill set that had won him swoons on the dance floors of Autumn, that had forged alliances for Spring? He scrambled for something, anything to say. His default was usually sarcasm, which was clearly not appropriate.

“Have you started planning the gardens for Feyre’s houses yet? Last year she mentioned that you started sorting things out months in advance.”

It seemed to have been the wrong thing to say, based on the tiny furrow that formed between her brows.

“No. Not yet.” Again, short and reserved. She took a small sip of the tea.

“I’m sure your work will be stunning.”

She shook her head. “You don’t have to pretend.”

“Pretend what?”

“That you enjoy sitting here, making awkward small talk and placating me. I know I haven’t been easy to deal with, and that this is out of nowhere,” she rushed, fidgeting a bit with a napkin before shoving it down in her lap, hiding her hands.

“That’s not what I think. My lady, you must know that all I have wanted is to have an honest conversation with you.”

She clenched her jaw a bit, a muscle in her neck twitching, but didn’t say anything.

Lucien sighed softly. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what you must think of me. And you’re likely well within your right to think all of those things.” Whatever names she silently called him were probably nothing he hadn’t already been called. By others, or himself.

She shook her head. “That’s where you’re wrong. I’ve heard so many stories about you that I don’t know what to think. This…this isn’t going how I expected.”

“My reputation proceeds me, then,” Lucien internally winced at his lame attempt to make a snarky remark.

Elain’s fingers went to her left hand, a nervous tic he knew she had picked up. Toying with an engagement ring that was no longer there.

“It’s more like Feyre insists on playing matchmaker,” Elain sighed, “but Nesta and Az are considerably…less fond of you.”

Lucien grimaced a bit. He had known that the spymaster was always wary of him. Initially, it had been out of distrust. And then…well, he didn’t want to know what the hell had transpired between him and Elain. It was enough to make him want to set something on fire.

He didn’t let himself dwell on it, focusing on the other part of her statement.

“Feyre’s playing at matchmaker, is she? She’s always such a busybody. I can’t imagine what yarns she’s spun about me.”

Elain huffed a bit ruefully. “A story for another time, I think. I’m getting off track. I wanted to speak with you…about the bond.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Alright,” he said evenly, setting down his teacup so he didn’t shatter it. Of course, they could only go so long without addressing the elephant in the room.

“I suppose I don’t truly know where to begin.” Again, that hesitance and uncertainty.

“You don’t have to share anything you aren’t comfortable with,” Lucien encouraged gently.

“No, I need to. I won’t – I can’t let another solstice go by like the last ones have.”

He didn’t think he was breathing. His thoughts were a tornado around him, swirling too fast for him to string anything coherent together.

“By now, you know that I didn’t want any of this. Nesta and Feyre were able to adjust to being fae because they have always hungered for something more. The life they were born into never suited them, and you can tell – in how they’ve changed. Neither of them ever belonged in the human realms.”

Not like I did. He heard the unspoken words and felt the familiar pricks of guilt from the knowledge that he had played a role in ripping her from everything she loved.

“And I know I haven’t made things easy for either of us. I probably haven’t been entirely fair to you.”

“You have every reason not to be,” he acknowledged.

“Quite honestly, this whole world is still so foreign to me. I was raised to court, not…you know,” she waved her hand vaguely, soft brown eyes full of emotion. “I’m not used to the kind of honest confessional that everyone wants me to deliver.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t expect any of this either. I thought I had lost my mate many years ago.”

“But you’re still willing to try. You have been since the beginning,” Elain insisted.

Lucien shook his head. “I wouldn’t say that’s true. But, yes, I know I haven’t been as subtle as I would like. And I am truly sorry if I’ve ever made you uncomfortable.”

“Thank you. But I understand that this must be difficult for you, too.” There she went again. Deflecting, turning the conversation away. Always focused on others and their perceptions. “Feyre explained that the bond was…intense, for Rhysand. Even before they did anything about it.” Her cheeks colored a bit pink.

Lucien clenched his jaw. “That’s one way of putting it.”

That day in Hybern, with the screaming, Cassian and Azriel on the ground, Feyre hysterical, the sisters in chains. The endless pause as the first sister went in fighting, and the way the world tilted on its axis when the Cauldron poured her back out.

Everything in his field of vision narrowed, blood rushing and the sound of a heartbeat that was not his own thundering in his ears.

His eyes flew to her, but she was already looking. Staring at him with those beautiful brown eyes.

“My point is that I don’t want your declarations of devotion and patience that I have done nothing to earn. They are nothing but pretty words, Lucien. You don’t know me. And I don’t know you.”

“No, but I want to,” he insisted earnestly, savoring the thrill that sparked through him as he heard his name from her lips. “If you would let me. As I said, that is the only thing I want from you. To know you.”

Something relaxed a bit in her face, and she took another sip of tea. He could still hear her heart hammering.

“I’m not ready to jump into anything right now. I don’t know if I ever will be. But I am willing to try to get to know you.”

Lucien’s heart sang, and he wondered how apparent the relief was on his face.

“But I have some conditions first.” There was no room for argument in Elain’s voice, her tone much steelier than usual.

He nodded, encouraging her to go on.

“First, I can’t do this with strings attached. Everyone has expected me to be adjusted by now, to be okay with the bond. But it’s still so foreign to me. I know it’s impossible to ignore completely. But I need you to accept that there’s no way to know how this will end. Even I haven’t seen that.”

“We can take things one day at a time,” Lucien suggested, an unfamiliar feeling rising in his chest, a cresting wave threatening to overwhelm him. “I won’t lie, the bond is…difficult for me to ignore at times.” All the time. “ But I will never act on it unless we both want to.”

Elain nodded her agreement. “I’d like that. But second – please don’t treat me like a piece of china. I’ve spent my whole life being coddled, and I’ve encouraged it for most of that time. Everyone acts differently around me. Even my sisters think I’m too delicate to handle anything. I don’t need you to edit your stories to be more palatable or tiptoe around me. And – you can call me Elain. You don’t have to stick to the formalities and titles.”

Her brow furrowed a bit, and Lucien saw something in her face he hadn’t deciphered before. Resolve. It was true. Everyone saw his mate as in need of protection as if she was unable to see the truth. They forgot that she had found her way across the battlefields herself, and accomplished what no one else had been able to when she stuck a blade through the King of Hybern’s throat. She had braved the Court of Nightmares, though it was completely unlike any human court she would have ever found herself in.

“Alright. Elain.” He tested the name on his lips, the first time he had called her anything but Lady to her face. “I can do that.”

Elain let the faintest trace of a smile rise on her cheeks as she took another sip of tea. He took the sight in, committed it to memory, and prayed it would be the first of many.

“Perhaps you’d consider extending your stay in Velaris for a few days?”

“I’d like that a lot,” Lucien said earnestly. Part of him searched for a silver-tongued quip to respond with, but he came up empty. In place of the way he usually sought to make light of things, there were only his honest opinions.

He wanted to stay for a few days. For Elain.

“Mor mentioned a new ballet they’re showing in the Rainbow – would you like to go?” she ventured. “I used to love to attend ballets, but I haven’t been to one in Prythian yet.”

He nodded. “Ballet was one of the prized dance forms in the Spring Court, but I’ve never gone to anything of the sort in Night. That sounds wonderful.”

Uncertainty still hung in the air, with neither of them completely sure to take this newfound clarity. But the tension was lessened, the string pulling them together with every breath loosened. Content to take a chance and see how it would all play out.

The things that troubled him still weighed heavy on Lucien’s shoulders. They wouldn’t disappear overnight. But in his chest, something had been struck, and he felt the spark of hope reignite in his chest.

A/N: I hope you all enjoy this! It was a lot of fun to write for a ship other than Feysand, and I was really surprised by how quickly this story poured out. I'm excited to hopefully write more Elucien in the new year, and work on improving their voices and characterizations in my head!

#elucien #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #acotar #acosf #acomaf #elucien fic #elucien fanfic #kate's writing #kat's writing

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yazthebookish · 3 years

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Hello! Love all your posts and analysis for acotar. I genuinely get excited every time I see your name popup in the gwynriel tag. I was just wondering what your thoughts were on Elucien and if you ship it? I personally think they are really cute, but after looking into how Elain's trauma might be tied to Lucien, I definitely think there will need to be a lot of healing between the two characters before a romance can ensue. Thanks for your time!

Hello anon🤍,

Thank you! I'm glad that you guys find joy in the things I enjoy doing and that is writing/theorizing.

I like Elucien and I think this is a ship that has great potential and to me it feels like Sarah is building up the angst for it in the background with how much she is dragging it.

I definitely agree with you! Healing must be at the forefront before a romance blossoms between them. There is a lot of tangled threads between them that will take time to untangle and both characters must work for it. I think Elain and Lucien's trauma should be dealt with first and I prioritize that because I don't want to read the first page and suddenly they're swept off their feet by love. Both have healing journeys that they must go through and I think Sarah focuses on that for every couple. It's not about the endgame, it's about the journey and how in the end those characters come together.

It's easy to say that Lucien serves as a daily reminder to Elain about her trauma. Lucien is also a victim of Tamlin and I have to say this but Lucien had nothing to do with what Hybern planned but he also can't stop Tamlin from scheming and meeting up with them because he will be abused. Even if Tamlin was unaware of Hybern dragging the Archeron sisters, he still paved the way for them and Ianthe to pull it off. But if Lucien knew, under no circumstances he would've agreed to it and I'm pretty sure he would've argued with Tamlin even if it meant being harmed.

We've seen Lucien and Elain warm up a little to one another by the end of ACOWAR so I do think Lucien and Elain can move on from that. He had proven himself a decent male and risked his life to bring back not only Vassa but a human army for Elain.

I think Sarah does hint in ACOFAS that neither Lucien or Elain are ready to deal with the Mating Bond, they need time to figure out who they want to be:

“Do you want my advice?” No. Yes. I nodded. Mor drank deeply from her glass. “Stay out of it. She’s not ready, and neither is he, no matter how many presents he brings.” I lifted a brow. “Snoop.” Mor leaned back against the steps, utterly unrepentant. “Let him live with his Band of Exiles. Let him deal with Tamlin in his own way. Let him figure out where he wants to be. Who he wants to be. The same goes with her.” She was right.

Both Lucien and Elain are trying to find their place in this world (Elain after being transformed into a Fae and Lucien literally living in exile with no home). Sarah changed from Lucien having Nesta as his mate to Elain being his mate (even though she had no reason to do that) and she explains that she sees that there is a lot of healing both would go through together (emphasis on that). Did we see that yet? Absolutely not. Neither Elain nor Lucien have gone through their healing journey and I think they both as Sarah said can help one another throughout this journey.

Their relationship is currently stagnant. I'm pretty sure Elain knows the bond can be rejected but haven't done so (if she was actually in love with Azriel but I very much doubt that she is) and Lucien tries but without pressuring her and giving her space and she is the one in control here not him, he gave her that. Everything goes according to what she wants and that's why it's stagnant because she is avoiding it and there are probably many reasons to it. She does not owe him anything but at the same time you have no reason to string along a male you do not want for two years (I doubt this is the case).

Her life as a Fae is stagnant (and that includes the mating bond because there is a likely chance that she is trying to turn back to being human.)

There will be alot that both Lucien and Elain have to deal with and I'm sorry my answer ended up being this long I just had alot of thoughts about this.

#elucien #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #asks

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theoverlyenthusiasticwriter · 4 years

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Masterlist

Here’s a master list of all of my fanfictions that no one asked for, but I probably should have made a while ago. Merry Christmas.

Ps, all works are Nessian unless stated otherwise.

Pps, I have an addiction.

Music (Siren au) master list

Cassian is a pirate through and through. When a bad habit of steeling rum and a loose tongue land him rocking in the waves with his brothers, he meets someone that will change his life. Someone with a tale, a some secrets, and a heart just beginning to remember what love really is. Someone not entirely human.

Careful Cassian

Nesta encounters her first period as a fae and it isn’t fun. Luckily, though, Cassian is there to help, although it may not be as easy as he first thought.

Morning

Nesta and Cassian wake up as their first morning as a mated couple. All fluff, kinda smutty, not gonna lie.

Shower

Nesta and Cassian take a romantic shower together when they first get to the camps. Just a short little snippet. (I’m not crying, you’re crying.)

Warmth and Truth

Caught in a storm on their way to the Illyrian camps, Nesta and Cassian find themselves alone, drenched, and cold. Through the night, truths are revealed about each of them yet even more is left unsaid.

Starfall

A year after Nesta and Cassian are sent to Illyria, Starfall comes and Nesta, healed more than she’d ever expected to be, finds she has somethings to say to Cassian.

Hold You

(Starfall sequel) Following the events of the night, Cassian and Nesta sway on the balcony, a little bit of their souls finally locking into place.

Good Enough

Cassian is tired. Tired of having to watch his tongue and coming home to Nesta gone in another person’s home. The only difference tonight is that Nesta is home, and Cassian is angry. Words explode from both ends. Many they needed to hear, and many that meant nothing. It’s up to them to decide.

Sister

Nesta and Cassian return to the Illyrian camps after their mating frenzy. Still half wild, Cassian finds himself caught in a rage, and a full winter spent with Nesta leaves him with some choice words for his brother.

Nesta’s Love

A short description from Cassian’s point of view of how Nesta loves him properly.

Nesta’s Happiness

A short description of how Cassian spots the signs that he’s made Nesta happy.

Bath Time

After training for hours, Nesta is extremely sore and Cassian knows it. Helping her in the bath, however, may take more of him than he’d initially thought.

Lessons on Love

After meeting the General Commander, Nesta is stubbornly attracted to him and he knows it. She lets him teach her the art of love making, and maybe a few things about her heart along the way. This begins in the middle of the extra “Wings and Embers.” WARNING: this is an extremely mature story, not suitable for some readers. Read at your own risk.

A Court of Fever and Frustration

Cassian, ever the idiot, falls ill and it’s up to Nesta to take care of him.

Broken Lines

Put into a position of authority amongst the Illyrian’s, Nesta is only looking for a little respect. Unfortunately for everyone else, Cassian will take fear first, to the chagrin of his mate.

Why Are You Hiding?

At the beginning of their relationship, a few of Nesta’s insecurities are revealed and while Cassian may not be able to fix what she sees in the mirror, but he can give her a nudge in the right direction.

Photograph

In this modern au, Nesta is a model, running late on one of her shoots, so Cassian goes to pick her up.

Forgotten Gods

Sometimes, Nesta forget who she is. Where her power has gone. When she goes looking for answers, Cassian goes looking for her.

Dawn

Just a fluffy morning with a very sleepy Nesta and a slightly frustrated Cassian as he tries to go about his daily routine.

Two Bastards and a Half-breed

In the beginning, it was two bastards and a half-breed. This is their story.

Asphyxiation (Elucien)

Alone with Lucien, Elain has to set her feelings straight. When an innocent hike, turns to something a little more meaningful, she finds it hard to breath.

The Healer and the Soldier (Madja x OC)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Madja learned how to heal Illyrian wings when she spent some time among them. Working beneath an older healer, she finds herself exhausted, exhilarated, and a little bit exasperated.

Wondrous Misfortune

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

The bone carver’s prediction is not all that meets the eye and so Cassian and Nesta meet the struggles of family head on, loving every bit of it with two children possibly more wicked than themselves.

Armor

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4,

A few months after Acofas, Cassian finds out what Nesta does when he’s away. Her rebellion isn’t what it seems, however. WARNING: this is an extremely mature story, not suitable for some readers. Read at your own risk.

Flowers Across a Kingdom

This is my take on the second generation of my favorite Throne of Glass and Acotar ships.

Prompts

“I lost the baby.” “You’re a monster.”

“Get that thing away from me!”

“It isn’t what it looks like! Okay... Maybe it is...”

“The bed is cold without you.” “It’s just a nightmare, it’s nothing real.”

Forbidden kiss and against a locker kiss

Before bed kisses

I almost lost you kiss

Staring at the other’s lips, trying not to kiss them, before giving in (Elriel)

Accidentally witnessed kiss and against a wall kiss

A hoarse whisper, “kiss me”

Moving around while kissing, stumbling over things, pushing each other back against the wall/onto the bed

Kisses where one person is sitting in the other’s lap

This wasn’t meant to be a date, but we’ve had such a good time and now it’s 2 a.m. and I should really go home

We slept in the same bed for space reasons, but now we’re just waking up and there’s something about your bleary eyes and mussed hair. (Elriel)

“I’m not leaving” + “It’s just you and me”

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Have you lost your damn mind?”

“Do you…well…I mean…I could give you a massage?”

“Make me.”

Fenrys x Azriel masterlist

Feel free to comment on any of my posts, whether its to give feedback, make suggestions, rant, scream, cry, whatever you want. Us writers love to hear from you and hear that our work is affecting you, even if your comment is just a series of capital letters and emjoiis. I understand completely. Also, please let me know if any of the links don’t work, or if you’d like ot be tagged in anything.

With all my love, Ella.

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bookofmirth · 3 years

Note

Hi Leslie!

I want to switch things up a bit since there's been quite a few negativity in this fandom lately (not by you just to be clear) and I know it's sometimes hard to ignore.

Now this may be an unpopular opinion but I actually didn't mind that Elain and Lucien weren't really present in ACOSF. Don't get me wrong, would I have liked them to be? Yes, but since that didn't happen, there's not much I can really do about it. I think my Elucien heart would have been concerned had Elain's character and relationship progressed with another male character in ACOSF but since that didn't happen either, I'm optimistic Elucien still has a strong fighting chance to end up together (last I checked, they were still mates).

From my perspective, it's interesting Sarah purposely did not divulge too much information about what Elain and Lucien are up to. And in those few moments we did get a glimpse of them, it was....dare I say....slightly uncomfortable? Even so, it seemed Sarah made sure to rein in these two and not give so much away until the appropriate time.

Sarah once said there was a lot of tension, growth and healing to be found for Elain and Lucien together. Just as ACOFAS & ACOSF has shown us, we have seen the tension between these two (aka the uncomfortableness people keep talking about). We have yet to see the growth and healing and I, for one, cannot wait. 😁

Have a lovely rest of the day!

Hello! Thank you for clarifying about the negativity. But honestly, I'd rather people let me know if they thought I was contributing to it. I don't want to ignore anything problematic in the fandom but I know that it's also upsetting to read about sometimes. So yeah, y'all let me know.

I have to agree with you on this. Elain being absent made sense because she and Nesta were estranged, and Lucien being absent made sense because he has lots of duties everywhere!!! I don't want to see their first serious conversation through someone else's POV. I don't even want it to happen while other people are around. They need to let out allllll of their feelings and there are so many pent-up feelings 🥵

Clearly, Lucien has not healed from a lot of what he has suffered. And still will suffer, once he finds out about Helion and then Beron dies and his whole family is thrown into chaos. (OMFG my fingers kept trying to type Chaol WHAT THE HELL).

Clearly, Elain has not had the growth she needs because her circumstances are exactly the same as when the series started. Obviously she has been through stuff. She is fae now and has powers, but how is her daily life any different? She goes about her business, planting things, being taken care of by Feyre, and not ever having to challenge or question herself. (Was I describing acotar, or acosf? Trick question! I was talking about both.)

I want there to be more tension before they finally start to understand one another. I just have a great need for them to have all these intense feelings about one another and then word vomiting those all over each other. Right now the tension is kinda... awkward!

had Elain's character and relationship progressed with another male character in ACOSF but since that didn't happen either, I'm optimistic Elucien still has a strong fighting chance to end up together (last I checked, they were still mates).

This is such an interesting and valid point? If Elain were in love, or if she had experienced any growth as an individual, then wouldn't we have seen her character progress? Why would she still be living her day-to-day the way she was in acotar? Sarah has three ways she likes to make that happen: romance, family, and friendship. None of Elain's current relationships are enough to spur that change in her. And that, in its own way, is reassuring to me too.

Plus yeah. They're mates. Nothing to argue with there!

#elucien #ask #anon #acotar

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kingofsummer93 · 11 months

Text

Ex Luna Scientia

Summary:

Elain Archeron, middle sister in a trio of muggle-born witches, has only one wish: for someone to truly see her. Because when she sleeps at night, she can see it all.

Or- an Elucien at Hogwarts AU.

Chapter 20: The Final Trial

Ao3 Masterlist

Ex Luna Scientia : from the moon, knowledge

Elain had never seen the Hogwarts castle as empty as it was in the weeks following the Headmaster’s escape.

As soon as the news of Koschei’s death had been printed in the Daily Prophet (stating both the Ministry’s version of events, and the school’s), there had been a mass exodus at Hogwarts as worried parents pulled their children out of school early. The Slytherin table in the Great Hall was now mostly empty at meal times, with the exception of some seventh years, and, of course, the Slytherin Tri-Trials Champion. Half the Ravenclaws and some Hufflepuffs had left, while the Gryffindor table was mostly intact.

In a covert, whispered conversation, Elain and her sisters had agreed that what their father didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt him. And seeing as he didn’t exactly have access to news of the magical world other than through them, it was unlikely that he would somehow hear the rumors and demand that they come home at once.

In light of the situation, and given that only about half the students were left at the school, the end of year exams had officially been canceled for all students. Professor Amren had refused to dismiss all students early- in a show of solidarity to Helion, or in a refusal to let the Ministry take control of the school, Elain wasn’t sure, but she didn’t mind. Given that most students left were largely Helion supporters (and by extension, ministry critics) and that nobody had to be stuck indoors to study for tests, the atmosphere at school was almost cheerful.

That is, if it weren’t for the giants, stationed on permanent patrol of the school grounds.

The larger, fiercer ones had been assigned to guard the front gates leading towards Hogsmeade, as well as the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Meanwhile some of the younger, less menacing giants had been stationed near the castle and grounds.

A young giant named Grawp had soon become a favorite amongst the students, given his propensity for sitting near the edge of the lake and dangling his feet in the water. His frame, though he was half the size of the adult giants, was still large enough that he created a large patch of shade near the water’s edge, where students liked to lounge.

Immediately following Professor Spell-Cleaver’s almost arrest, Professor Amren and the other staff had locked down the castle in solidarity to their wronged Headmaster. Students who were called home by outraged parents were allowed to leave- but nobody was allowed in. Though the Ministry had placed Aurors at the school gates, and had officially claimed the school to be under their control, they couldn’t very well do anything from outside the school grounds.

Elain had wondered on more than one occasion if that was partly why Amren hadn’t decided to send everyone home at once. Perhaps she thought the presence of students inside the school would prevent the Aurors outside the gates from engaging in outright combat with the giants in order to push their way into the school.

So far it had worked, though Elain didn’t like to think of what would happen once the rest of the students had gone home and the school stood empty. What would Hogwarts look like next year, under ministry control? More importantly, would muggle-borns even be allowed to attend, under the new regime? For some reason she had a bad feeling she knew the answer to that.

On the morning of her penultimate day at Hogwarts, Elain dropped into a seat next to Lucien at breakfast and loosed a heavy sigh.

“I can’t believe we still actually have to compete,” she grumbled.

“I can’t believe they’re letting us compete,” he murmured back, pressing a reassuring hand to her knee.

Since there were so few students left at school, Professor Tarquin had vanished two of the House tables, and the students now sat where they liked, houses mingling together. It added to the air of camaraderie, though the essential wrongness of it was a constant reminder that things weren’t as they should be.

A shadow passed over the Great Hall as a large figure moving outside passed by the windows, casting them in shadow. The other reminder that things weren’t normal.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Lucien continued in a low voice. There were deep bags under his eyes, even though the full moon was weeks away. The fact that the Minister’s own son had allegedly “helped” the Hogwarts staff to concoct a story regarding Koschei’s death was a constant source of gossip in the papers these days, and the strain was wearing on him. Not for himself she knew, but for how it might be affecting his mother. “The school is under siege, and they’re letting us finish this tournament? It’s a joke.”

They’d discussed it countless times before, in whispered conversations with their friends, out of earshot of the staff who now permanently patrolled the hallways at all hours. Why allow them to continue with this tournament, when it was for all intents and purposes meant to be a fun, morale-boosting event?

“Maybe it’s their way of trying to get in the students’ good graces?” Feyre suggested, gloomily stirring her scrambled eggs around her plate. Mor’s father was a die-hard traditionalist and ministry supporter, and her best friend had been on the first train out of Hogsmeade, though reluctantly so.

“It’s going to take more than a scavenger hunt and two-thousand galleons prize money,” Elain said darkly.

Nesta appeared at her side like a storm, dropping onto the bench and exuding violence. “I cannot believe this is my last day at Hogwarts and I have to spend it on this charade.”

Elain peered curiously at Cassian, settling into a seat on Nesta’s other side- closer than should have been acceptable for an acquaintance. Nobody said anything, though Lucien smirked slightly as he glanced down the table at them.

“What would you rather spend the day doing?” he asked innocently.

Elain snorted into her pumpkin juice, but Nesta was unfazed.

“Making memories,” she said simply.

Feyre gagged loudly while the rest of them erupted in laughter. Elain busied herself with buttering a piece of toast, suddenly hyper-aware of Lucien’s hand casually resting on her knee.

They had gone as far as some under-the-shirt petting during a particularly heated makeout session, but no further. The feel of his sculpted abdomen and chest had nearly melted her brains out of her head, and since then Elain hadn’t been able to stop picturing herself ripping his shirt off- and maybe making a few memories of their own. Especially if she wouldn’t be allowed back at Hogwarts next year. At least she would have this, one last bright memory amongst the darkness.

The problem, though, was where. The hallway where the Room of Requirements was located was now constantly monitored. Lucien had explained that there was rumoured to be a secret passageway that led to the Hog’s Head, though he and his friends had never been able to find it. This also meant that she hadn’t been able to go back to the room to look at the stolen prophecy more closely- not that she was particularly inclined to do so, given Helion’s parting warning.

“What about the prize money, though?” Feyre asked. “Who cares why they’re letting you compete- you could still go home with all that cash.”

Her eyes glazed over for a second, and Elain knew what her sister was picturing- not clothing or luxuries, or fancy modern technology, but basic things they had gone without for a long time. Two thousand galleons translated to a large sum in muggle currency. It would be enough for a few months’ rent on a bigger apartment, perhaps one with AC. Maybe they could even get a new car.

“It would be poetic justice for the prize money to go to a muggle-born family,” said a voice out of nowhere. Elain nearly spilled her pumpkin juice as Nearly-Headless Nick appeared at the center of the table, his head hovering over a bowl of fruit. “You should try to win, girls.”

“Excuse me!” Lucien exclaimed, though without much gusto.

The Gryffindor ghost haughtily adjusted the ruffle that kept his head upright, and huffed. “We already lost the Quidditch cup, what’s one more loss to the noble House of Gryffindor?”

Elain snickered, but before she could hear Lucien’s retort she felt someone tap her on the shoulder.

“Elain?”

It was Azriel, smiling shyly. He was one of the few Slytherins to have stayed behind, along with Rhysand. From what Elain knew his family was as ancient and despicable as the Vanserras, and his decision to stay at Hogwarts would not have been taken lightly.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Lucien had gone preternaturally still beside her- the only indication that he had heard. He wisely kept taunting Nick and didn’t react when she slid from the bench and followed Azriel into the Entrance Hall.

The front doors were thrown open to let in the late spring breeze- though the shape of the giant parked at the bottom of the front steps cast the Entrance Hall in shadow.

Azriel glanced at the giant uneasily. “That will never not be strange.”

Elain shrugged. “I like Grawp. He gave me some flowers the other day. Although, it looked more like a small bush.”

Azriel laughed quietly and brushed the floppy hair out of his eyes. “I wanted to give you something. It’s not a whole flower bush, but…”

He reached into his pocket and took out a small vial filled with golden liquid. The substance inside seemed to glitter and swirl, reflecting the rays of sunshine streaming in through the open door. The vial was three-quarters full, and Azriel blushed slightly as he saw Elain notice.

“Your liquid luck?”

“I wanted you to have it. For the tournament. Not that I think you need it,” he added quickly, blushing even deeper. “Just in case it’s rigged, or something. It should be you.”

Elain’s stomach plummeted. “You think it might be rigged? Even though there’s no ministry judges coming for the third task?”

The deputy headmistress had not budged on this- the third trial would be judged by Hogwarts staff only, or not at all. Elain couldn’t blame her for not wanting to let any ministry employees inside the castle. Even an ally like Eris would raise too many eyebrows.

Azriel shrugged, his hazel eyes going slightly icy. “I don’t know, but it wouldn’t surprise me. It should be you,” he said again, pressing the vial into her palm. “Imagine how much it’ll piss them off.”

“Don’t let Rhysand hear that you’re supporting the enemy,” Elain joked, unnerved by the quiet wrath in Azriel’s eyes. She wondered suddenly if he and Lucien didn’t have more in common than they thought, in regards to how they felt about their families.

“We all have a common enemy now. If we let them divide us further it’ll only be easier for them to swoop in and tear life as we know it apart.”

Elain wrapped her fingers around the vial of Felix Felicis, chilled by his words, and what they entailed. The potion was warm in her fingers, glowing bright like a ray of hope.

---

A scavenger hunt. It had seemed too easy when Amren had announced it a week earlier- childish, even, compared to the first two Trials.

The rules were simple- each champion would have to solve a series of riddles that would eventually lead them to a certain artifact, hidden somewhere in the castle. The first to find this object, and bring it back to the Entrance Hall, would win the Trial. Points would be tallied at the end, and whoever ended up with the most points would win the prize money- and the title of champion.

Not that anyone left at Hogwarts actually cared about that title anymore. The only good thing that could possibly still come from this farce was for Elain or Nesta to win that prize money- something Lucien had sworn to them he’d do everything he could to make happen, even if he had to sabotage Rhysand himself.

However, as Tarquin blew his whistle and the four champions opened the slip of paper on which their first clues were written, he realized maybe he wouldn’t have to do any sabotage after all.

Your second clue lies amongst those whose voices cannot be heard on land.

Lucien blinked, and reread the clue a second time. And then a third.

those whose voices cannot be heard on land…

Could that mean…

He looked up at the open doorway to the Entrance Hall and towards the dark surface of the lake on the grounds, glittering as it reflected the sunlight. There were legends that merpeople (and other, even more menacing beings) lived in the lake, but Lucien had never seen one, nor did he know anyone who had.

There was a cheer from the assembled students in the Entrance Hall as Elain rushed by him and towards the marble stairs. She shot him a grin and a thumbs up as she passed. The smile on her face was almost silly with excitement, her steps radiating confidence as she broke into a jog up the stairs.

Lucien breathed a sigh of relief. No lake for her, then. Nesta and Rhysand both set off soon after- Rhysand disappearing into the dungeons, and Nesta following Elain up the marble staircase.

Lucien looked back at his clue, aware of the many eyes trained on him, waiting for him to do something.

“Sometime today, Vanserra!” Vassa taunted from the edge of the crowd.

There was a ripple of laughter around the hall. Lucien flipped her the finger, and then hurried through the front doors before a teacher could tell him off.

The lake seemed to get bigger as he approached it, and infinitely more menacing than it had ever appeared. Walking into the Forbidden Forest, where he’d gone so many times before, was one thing, but this was something else entirely. There were things down there- not to mention the giant squid. For a moment he considered simply wandering around the grounds until somebody won, but there was always the risk that the prize money would go to Rhysand. He had to at least try, so he could give Elain the money if he won.

He halted at the edge of the water. It looked darker from this close up, no longer a glittering reflection of the summer sky but a dark, cold abyss.

“Right,” he said, to no one in particular.

Grawp the giant peered at him curiously from the other side of the lake, where he was sitting with his legs kicking in the water. Lucien snickered at the sight. Grawp was the size of a three-story building but most of the time he was as menacing as a dog.

“Grawp!” he called out.

The giant titled his boulder-sized head at him. Lucien beckoned, and Grawp flashed him a crooked, toothy grin. He stood, wading knee-deep in the lake towards Lucien. His steps sent waves of icy water flooding over the banks, soaking his shoes. The prospect of going into the lake suddenly seemed even less enticing.

When he was a few steps away the giant halted, bending down so he could peer at Lucien.

“Have you ever seen any Merpeople in the lake?” Lucien asked.

The giant blinked at him, his expression good-natured but uncomprehending.

“Umm…” Lucien was suddenly aware of the students gathered around the lake, and sitting in clumps throughout the grounds. He wasn’t sure what the other students had been told about the Trial, but it seemed they had been instructed to spread out throughout the grounds in order to catch a glimpse of the champions.

“Merpeople,” he said again, gesturing to the middle of the lake. He mimed wielding a trident, and then pretended to snarl and flash pointed claws, all the while feeling supremely idiotic.

Grawp’s beady eyes widened in fear, and he hurriedly backed away from Lucien, pointing with a tree-sized arm towards the very center of the lake.

“Bad,” the giant rumbled. “Bad.”

Lucien took that as answer enough. A swim with Merpeople it was, then. He shucked his shoes and robes, rolling up the hem of the pants he wore underneath. A twirl of his wand around his head later, he was surrounded by a halo of cool, crisp oxygen. He had never tested this charm underwater, but he supposed he was about to find out the hard way if he had mastered it enough.

He waded into the lake, Grawp still peering at him closely. The lake was icy despite the heat of the day, and by the time the water reached his shoulders he was shivering. Maybe his biggest problem here wouldn’t be the Merpeople or lack of oxygen, but the frigid temperature of the water.

With one last deep breath he filled his lungs with oxygen, and then dove below the surface.

The water was murky, and even this close to the surface he could barely see a few feet in front of him. He took a tentative breath, and to his relief his lungs filled with crisp air. At least that much had worked.

“Lumos!”

The tip of his wand lit with a thin, golden beam of light that only served to make the water look even more green and murky. Thankfully there didn’t seem to be any sign of movement, squid or merpeople alike. Lucien stuck his wand between his teeth and dove deeper into the water.

The lake seemed to go on forever. As he dove deeper and deeper into the murky depths the weak light filtering in from the surface faded to a faint greenish glow, and then disappeared altogether. The light from his wand illuminated reeds filled with fish- and possibly other things he didn’t care to look at too closely.

Deeper and deeper into the water he went, until he started to worry about his bubble of oxygen. Surely it would hold up as long as he willed it to?

Eventually shapes started to take form in the distance. Blocky, harsh slabs jutting out of the bottom of the lake, like some kind of underground burial ground. As he got closer he realized they weren’t tombs, but crude stone dwellings. The houses were almost entirely covered in algae, and from the windows… Lucien shuddered as he spotted the eyes peering out at him, countless faces contorted in feral grins. He was starting to think that this might have been a very, very bad mistake.

He had just made up his mind to turn around after spotting what was definitely a trident leaning against the side of a house nearby, when he spotted what appeared to be the town square. Or, what would have been a town square had this been a human dwelling. There was a circular open space, with a raised platform in the center. And on that platform stood the ugliest, strangest looking being Lucien had ever seen.

There was a painting of a mermaid in the Prefects bathroom, the occupant of which often flirted with him when he went to take baths. She had the torso of a woman, with long, glistening blond hair that she draped precariously over luscious breasts, and a glittering, scaled tail that she flipped flirtatiously from the rock on which she perched.

What stood in front of Lucien, beckoning him forward with a finger, could not be more different from the pretty mermaid in that painting. Its skin was a sickly shade of greenish-gray, with green hair that looked disgustingly similar to the vegetation that clung to the sides of the buildings around the square. Its teeth were pointy and sharp, and the finger that beckoned to him was tipped in a long black claw. Lucien almost turned around and bolted, but then he spotted the capsule in the merperson’s hand. The figures peering at him hadn’t made a move towards him, and neither had the one standing in the square. They beckoned to Lucien again, and he swam closer, wishing he had thought of a spell to somehow give himself webbed hands and feet so he could move faster through the water.

The merperson dipped his chin and inch, his eyes never leaving Lucien’s, and extended the capsule. It was made of smooth, polished rock, with a groove in the center where Lucien guessed it must open.

Lucien grinned back. “Thank you!” His voice came out sounding like a garbled jumble of words, but the merperson inclined his chin an inch again.

Lucien took that as his cue to leave. He flipped around and pushed off the slimy bottom of the lake, aiming for the surface.

Screw his father and the ministry. It didn’t matter why they were letting the school host this tournament- this was fun. And if the school wouldn’t reopen next year, or at the very least not as the school he had known for six years….he wouldn’t think about that now. He couldn’t think about his father’s werewolf registry, and whether Lucien would be put on it, or if he’d be allowed to come back for his seventh year. He’d think about that later- for now he’d just have this last bit of fun. And if he could win and give the Archerons the prize money, then even better.

Swimming back to the surface proved to be more difficult than swimming down had been, with long weeds constantly tangling around him and Grindylows shaking their fists at him from every angle. He was so focused on getting back to the surface that he didn’t notice the dark, massive presence looming towards him until it was directly above him, blocking his path to the surface.

Lucien twisted around, adrenaline propelling him back down the way he came. His mind suddenly filled with images of the giant squid, opening it’s gaping maw-

Something wrapped around his middle, and he thrashed, though whatever was holding him only held him harder. He still held his lit wand between his teeth, but his arms were pinned to his sides uselessly by his captor. Surely it was the squid’s tentacles- perhaps it would suffocate him before devouring him…

He managed to wriggle an arm free, and whipped his wand towards the vice holding him. “RELASHIO!”

His voice was garbled again, a trail of bubbles escaping his halo of oxygen. Red sparks went shooting out of his wand, followed by what seemed to be a jet of scalding water. There was a horrible noise from somewhere behind and above him, like an angry, surprised exclamation of pain. Whatever was holding him didn’t release him, however, and Lucien realized with horror that he was being heaved towards the surface.

Where were the teachers? Surely they should be watching, making sure that he didn’t drown or get eaten down here…

His bubble-head charm vanished as he broke the surface, and he gasped in a breath of warm air. He was still thrashing against his captor, and had just lifted his wand for a second attack when a familiar voice made him pause.

“Bad!”

Lucien glanced down, and immediately stopped fighting. It wasn’t tentacles wrapped around his middle, but wide, tree-branch sized fingers. He twisted around and was met by Grawp’s rough, boulder-shaped face twisted into a worried frown.

“Bad,” the giant repeated, glancing towards the middle of the lake. “Grawp no like.” Grawp seemed to shudder then, the motion making Lucien sway in midair.

“Yeah, Lucien no like, either,” he agreed. “Hey, Grawp, can you put me down now?”

Grawp wadded through the water and slowly deposited Lucien on the edge of the lake. “Grawpy keep student safe,” the giant said solemnly, and then slumped back on the ground, sending a wave of icy water crashing over the shore.

“Yeah, good job, mate.”

Lucien could have done without the impromptu rescue, but the giant grinned and leaned back on his hands, apparently satisfied with his efforts.

“Tik tok, Lucien!” someone yelled from the other side of the lake. It seemed he wasn’t the only one who had given in to the competitive atmosphere.

He took the stone capsule out of his pocket, and pried the two halves apart. A slip of parchment lay inside, and Lucien dropped the empty capsule to the ground and quickly read his second clue.

Though we are made to fly, here is where we rest.

“What?”

A few students snickered nearby. Grawp angled his head at him in confusion.

Though we are made to fly…

Lucien quickly ran through a list of things that were made to fly. Birds, ghosts, hippogriffs…he looked towards the groundskeeper’s cottage, and the pen at the edge of the Forbidden Forest where the Hippogriffs were kept. Surely his second clue wouldn’t be hidden amongst a bunch of Hippogriffs? He’d had his fill of magical creatures for the day, and would have much preferred to run around the castle.

Though we are made to fly…

The realization hit him like a brick. “See you, Grawp!” he called over his shoulder, and then he broke into a sprint in the direction of the Quidditch pitch.

He might actually be able to win this whole thing. How he’d love to see the sneer on his father’s face when he found out. Although, considering he was letting the school finish the tournament, Lucien doubted his father cared at all. Perhaps it was his way of lulling them into a sense of security.

The Quidditch pitch was deserted as he approached it. He slowed to a jog, and then yanked open the door to the shed where the brooms and Quidditch equipment were kept. It was unusually dark inside, as if the bright sunshine from outside had been blocked by curtains- though no curtains hung from the windows. Maybe it was part of the challenge, and another capsule lay hidden somewhere in the dark.

“Lumos!”

A beam of light illuminated the inside of the shed, as familiar to Lucien as his dormitory. Trunks of Quidditch robes and equipment, and rows and rows of brooms of various ages and quality lined up against the wall. His own Nimbus three-thousand and four hung from a rack on a nearby wall, along with the rest of the Gryffindor team’s brooms.

Lucien went still as he sensed a presence behind him, though whoever (or whatever) it was hadn’t made a sound. And then he saw the shadow, stretching along the dusty floor next to his own. His hand tightened on his wand but before he could so much as react he felt the tip of a wand press to the back of his neck.

“Very good, Vanserra,” a deep, leering voice drawled. The voice was familiar enough that the hair rose on the back of his neck. “That took you no time at all.”

Footsteps sounded as the person behind him walked around to face him. Lucien saw the wand first, trained on his face. And then a grin, feral and devoid of humor or good-will. His stomach plummeted as he took in the familiar face, lit by the glow of his wand.

“Tell me where the prophecy is,” Professor Hybern whispered urgently. “And we can pretend this little encounter never happened.”

Lucien’s mind was blank with shock. His mouth opened and closed in surprise, and for a moment he couldn’t think of what to say.

“What.” Somehow it came out sounding more like a statement than a question.

“Yes, yes,” Hybern said, waving his wand around impatiently, “shock and surprise, all of that. You can agonize about it later. Now tell me where the prophecy is, before I make you.”

“The…how do you know about that?” Lucien took an involuntary step backwards, but Hybern followed him. Turning on his heel and running would be foolish, but surely Hybern wouldn’t actually attack him? He was a teacher at the school, he was…

He was somehow in his father’s employ, in one way or another. The realization sent a chill down his spine that had nothing to do with his clothes still drenched in lake water.

Professor Hybern smiled again, as if he had read the realization on his face. He took a slow step closer, like a hyena closing in on its prey.

“I’m going to ask you one more time, and then things will get ugly.”

Lucien clamped his mouth shut. Whatever that prophecy showed, it was important enough that his father was desperate to get it. Desperate enough to have his mole inside Hogwarts reveal himself.

Hybern sighed. “Very well. I’d prefer the Cruciatus curse, but I wouldn’t want your screams to attract half the school here. The Imperius curse was always more Koschei’s style, you see- at least, until he went soft in his old age-”

Lucien didn’t care to hear the rest. He lunged, throwing his wand out at the same time. “Expelliarmus!”

“Imperio!”

The teacher’s spell missed him by a hair’s breadth, while his own hit a nearby trunk full of robes, sending a cloud of splinters and fabric exploding around them. Lucien used the momentary distraction to extinguish his wand, sending the shed once more into whatever unnatural darkness Hybern had cast. He blindly dove behind a chest full of Bludgers just as another spell zoomed so close to his head that it singed the top of his ear.

Hybern was blocking his path to the door, but if he could just distract him enough, he could outrun him, or even physically disable him. The potions master was hardly fit, Lucien could easily take him out.

There was a low chuckle uncomfortably close to the chest where he crouched. “Oh, ickle Lucien. Your father will laugh when he hears how you cowered from me. He’s always been so disappointed in you, but to hide like this- what a disappointment to the House of Gryffindor.”

Let him talk. Let him talk, do not react.

Lucien felt around the trunk as quietly as he could, blindly feeling for the lid and praying that the hinges wouldn’t squeak. Hybern wanted to rile him up by bringing up his father, but he wouldn’t let him.

“Did you know, he once told me that he only considered himself to have six legitimate sons-”

Lucien jumped to his feet, letting the trunk snap shut as he threw a Bludger as hard as he could at the mass of shadows in front of him. There was a grunt of pain, and a loud thud, but Lucien didn’t stick around to see what kind of damage he had inflicted. He turned and ran towards the door- but Hybern was faster.

“Legilimens!”

This time the spell found its mark. Lucien fell to his knees from the force of it, the breath knocked clean from his lungs. It felt like something sharp and dark was worming its way into his mind, talons poking in the recesses of his memories. Images flashed in front of him, as clearly as if they were photographs. He and Elain walking through the Hall of Prophecy, in disguise. He and Elain in the greenhouses, her hand timidly snaking beneath his t-shirt. Lucien growled, realizing what Hybern was doing even as he was powerless to stop it. He tried to shut down his mind, to fight against that force poking around his mind, but there was no stopping it.

Elain, cheeks pink as he scooted closer next to her in Divination class.

Elain, face ashen as she read Briallyn Scooter’s article.

Elain, tilting her face up to him in the Room of Requirements, after their Patronus lesson.

Lucien’s stomach dropped. He couldn’t move, couldn’t stop Hybern from seeing what he wanted to see.

Elain, sweaty and exhausted looking, slipping a shimmering crystal ball into a chest full of moldy robes inside the Room of Requirements.

The dark presence left his mind as swiftly as it had entered, but before Lucien could regain control of himself something hit him on the side of the head.

And then there was nothing but sweet, blessed darkness.

---

Elain had never felt so utterly confident. She felt almost drunk with it- powerful, in an unstoppable way. There was nothing she couldn’t do. This tournament was a cakewalk. She wasn’t sure why she’d ever been afraid of it at all. She could win this thing in her sleep.

There was a small, rational part of her brain that was aware it was the Felix Felicis talking, but she didn’t mind. Nor did she mind that using liquid luck in official competitions was illegal.

It should also have been illegal to unjustly accuse a man of murder and force him to flee from his school, but that hadn’t stopped the Minister for Magic. Let this be her private way of rebelling, however small and insignificant her rebellion was.

It felt good. Elain had never considered herself to be timid or unsure of herself, but she’d never had the kind of unfaltering confidence that her sisters possessed. Nesta, in her calculating, cool way, and Feyre in her slightly brash, audacious way. But with Felix guiding her movements, she could do anything. Her clues were easily solved, the obstacles blocking her path too easily breached. Her second clue had been blocked by a Boggart, and she had merely scoffed and dismissed it with a flick of her wand.

She had almost laughed out loud when she had reached her last clue.

A stone to help if all else fails.

A bezoar. The answer had appeared in her mind, as if she’d simply conjured it by will alone. The fact that she was terrible at potions heightened her sense of hilarity. Azriel would laugh when she told him. Azriel. He was sweet, if a bit odd- she should really tell Lucien to be kinder to him.

She was walking (not even running- that’s how confident she felt that the other champions weren’t even close to finishing) towards the potions dungeon when something made her stop in her tracks. Unbidden, the room of lost objects in the Room of Requirements flashed through her mind. She felt an inexplicable, urgent need to go there. Now.

She hesitated, fighting with her warring instincts, but only for a moment. Felix knew best. She’d been lucky so far, who was she to argue with it now? With that she spun on her heel and hurried back out of the dungeons, and back up the marble staircase. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw Professor Alis give her a strange look, but she ignored her. It would all make sense in the end. Clearly she had missed something, or perhaps she’d misinterpreted the last clue. Either way, she had to get to that room, and quickly.

It dimly occurred to her that the room might be guarded even now. But surely the Professors wouldn’t block access during the tournament? She’d figure that out when she got there.

Sir Cadogan was oddly quiet when she approached the stretch of wall he faced, his usual barbs or taunts replaced by an uncharacteristic silence. Even his trolls were silent, standing still in their tutus and watching her approach warily.

“Oy,” the knight finally said as she faced the blank wall. “On guard, there.” There was a strange edge to his tone, but Elain dismissed it.

“Yes, yes,” she said impatiently.

The hall was dark, even though the sun shone brightly just outside the windows. That struck as odd, also, but she shrugged it off. Perhaps the Felix Felicis was clouding her vision.

She walked back and forth in front of the stone wall, picturing that room that Lucien had shown her. After her third pass a door appeared, and she walked through it.

It was just as she remembered it. A cavernous room, filled floor to ceiling with detritus of decades (or likely, centuries) past. Magical and muggle artifacts alike, mixed with furniture and all kinds of bits and bobs.

Right. Why had she come here? She couldn’t remember, other than she had felt a nagging urge to be here at this precise moment. No matter. She’d simply look around until she figured it out. All in good time.

She sighed and grinned, her posture loose and easy as she ambled slowly through the stacks of lost objects. There was something melancholy about all these lost possessions. Everything here had meant something to someone, once. It was like a graveyard of memories.

Once again something made her pause. There was a whispering, something nagging at her, other than the Felix. The Felix had urged her to come here, but hadn’t told her why.

Come see....

Look....

The whispers made the hair on the back of her neck rise, and she shivered, feeling suddenly much more sober. Maybe the liquid luck was wearing off. She’d only taken half of what was left- she felt bad taking all of it for this, even though Azriel had given it to her.

See…

Elain had turned and started walking before she even processed what she was doing. Her feet moved of their own accord, and then she was standing in front of a familiar trunk. She knew what she would find inside before she even opened it- and dimly, she recognized that she shouldn’t be doing this. Professor Spell-Cleaver had specifically asked for it to remain hidden, and she hadn’t dared to go against his wishes. And yet, her luck hadn’t led her astray yet.

She pushed aside the smelly robes trimmed in moldy lace, and there it was. Shining as if lit with an inner light, the vapor inside swirling around and around.

See, it urged her. Look.

Her hands had wrapped around the prophecy before she could talk herself out of it. It felt warm, alive in her fingers.

“Well done, Ms Archeron.”

Elain nearly sent the prophecy smashing to the ground in shock. She whirled, clutching the orb to her chest.

There was a brief, idiotic moment in which she felt relieved at the sight of the familiar, if not exactly friendly, face. And then she noticed the wand pointed directly at her head- along with the sinister smile on her teacher’s face.

“Professor Hybern?” Her voice came out high and squeaky.

“You can imagine my dismay when I came in here and saw all this junk. But then in you walked. And I didn’t even have to ask.”

Elain had no idea what he was talking about, her focus solely on the wand he kept trained to the middle of her forehead.

“What…what do you mean? Is this part of the Trial?”

Professor Hybern let out a bark of laughter. “You always were a sweet girl. More so than that disgusting brute you chose to date.”

Elain felt her hackles rise. “What did you just say?”

“He didn’t talk easily,” the teacher continued, ignoring her. “He put up quite a fight, actually. But you shouldn’t blame him, dear. It wasn’t his fault.”

Her heart rate sped up as dread and adrenaline gripped her like a vice. Whatever confidence she’d had from the Felix Felicis was gone- or nearly. Lucien. Her mind was struggling to keep up with what Hybern was telling her. He had somehow gotten to Lucien, and forced him to reveal the location of the prophecy.

“What did you do to him?” she blurted.

He was ok. He had to be. She would know- she told herself that somehow she would know if he wasn’t.

Hybern laughed. “Oh, he’ll be alright. Unfortunately.”

Elain’s shoulders sagged in relief, but then Hybern was advancing on her. She tried to back away from him, but the back of her knees hit the trunk behind her. Her luck had finally run out, it seemed. She was trapped here.

“Now hand me that prophecy, unless you want things to get ugly.”

“Why do you want it so badly?” She was stalling, but she didn’t know what else to do. She couldn’t very well fight him, and there was nowhere for her to run but deeper into the stacks of lost objects.

“Let me worry about that. Give it to me before I make you.”

“It’s mine.” She clutched the prophecy tighter to her chest, edging around the trunk and backing away from the teacher still slowly inching his way towards her. Any second now he was going to lunge at her (or worse) and there’d be nothing she could do to stop it. “I made this prophecy in the first place. It doesn’t belong to you.”

Hybern let out a frustrated growl. Elain wondered if he was reluctant to attack her because she was a girl, or because he was afraid of accidentally smashing the prophecy.

“It belongs to the person about whom the prophecy is about,” he spat.

Elain froze. “What does that mean?” Hybern winced, as if realizing what he had just unwittingly revealed. “The prophecy is about the Minister? Is that why he stole it?”

“Enough of this. I didn’t want to have to hurt you, girl, but I will if I have to.”

Elain turned on her heel and ran just as the professor was raising his wand. The room was a labyrinth of twisted passageways through mountains of junk, and she took turns at random as Hybern thundered after her. It seemed to go on forever as Elain zigzagged deeper into the room. Hybern’s frustrated shouts echoed behind her, wood splintering as curses hit piles of broken furniture.

“Accio Prophecy!”

The orb slipped out of her fingers, and Elain lunged, grappling madly for it. Another curse went flying besides her and hit a stack of thick leather bound books. Elain ducked to avoid the exploding tomes, losing her grasp on the orb. It fell to the floor and shattered, and before she could react dense mist was swirling in front of her, whispering to her.

And then her vision went dark entirely.

She recognized the man immediately, though the look of terror in his water blue eyes was in direct contrast to his usual jovial, if slightly haughty demeanor.

“What will you do with us?” The muggle Prime Minister’s voice quivered as he cowered from the advancing figures in front of him.

A dry laugh, if such a mirthless sound could be considered laughter. “For starters, I’m going to let my dogs here have a bite of you. They’re very hungry, you see, and they’ve developed a taste for muggle flesh.”

The muggle blanched as the two men flanking the Minister for Magic bared their canines.

“And then,” Beron continued, “the wizarding world will hide no longer.”

Elain gasped in a breath as the vision faded and the room came back into focus. Her heart was pounding so fast that she tasted bile. Beron hadn’t simply been building an army as some sick experiment, after all.

She jumped to her feet and whirled before she remembered where she was, and who had been chasing her.

Hybern stood behind her, his face contorted with fury. “You stupid girl. You’ve left me no choice but to kill you.”

“Why?” she blurted. “Why would he do this?”

Hybern’s laugh was low and wicked. “We’ve hidden in the shadows for too long. It’s high time for muggles to serve us, as they should have been doing all along.”

His wand was rising again. He was going to kill her and dump her body somewhere in this graveyard of detritus where nobody would ever find it. Or perhaps they’d come up with a tragic story of how she died in a freak accident during the tournament. Either way, she wasn’t walking away, and there would be nobody to sound the alarm about the Minister’s sinister plans.

“I really am very sorry about this, you know,” Hybern said, almost conversationally. “I wasn’t planning on having to kill you at all.”

“Then don’t,” Elain squeaked. To her horror her throat was closing up in a sob. She didn’t want to die like this, cowering and sobbing, but she couldn’t help it. “I won’t tell anyone.”

Hybern laughed again. Elain used the split second of distraction to scan the path behind him for anything she could use to her advantage. She couldn’t duel him, but perhaps if she could cause a big enough explosion, as he had done with the books, she could-

Her breath caught in her chest. Hybern mistook it for a gasp of fear, and didn’t turn around to see what she had seen. A shadow, growing longer as whoever it was approached on silent feet.

“But you would, wouldn’t you? And then the whole plan would be ruined.”

“People won’t stand for this,” Elain retorted. “The Minister can’t actually think this will work.”

“Bah!” Hybern waved a hand dismissively. “Some will be opposed at first, of course. There’s always two sides to any revolution. But by then the damage will be done.”

“No, it won’t.” Elain would have recognized that deep voice anywhere, and she could have wept with relief as Lucien crept up behind Hybern.

The professor whirled, but Lucien’s wand was already trained on him.

“Expelliarmus!”

Hybern’s wand went flying before he could block the spell, and a split second later the teacher was lunging for Lucien.

“Petrificus Totalus!”

Professor Hybern froze mid-step and hit the floor with a sickening crunch. Blood oozed from his face and what was surely a broken nose, but Elain didn’t bother feeling bad before taking Lucien’s outstretched hand and running for the door.

“Your father!” she gasped as soon as the door snapped shut behind them. “He’s going to kill the muggle Prime Minister.”

Lucien blanched. “I figured that’s what he meant.”

“Today,” Elain continued. “He’s doing it today.” She couldn’t explain where the certainty came from, but she knew it was true down in her bones. Perhaps it was Felix, guiding her with one last bit of luck.

Lucien, to his credit, didn’t question her. “Maybe that’s why he was so keen on Hogwarts hosting the tournament this year. It kept people distracted from what he was up to. I bet he thinks the Headmaster is hiding somewhere near the school to keep an eye on the tournament, and won’t get in his way.”

“We need to find Professor Spell-Cleaver. He has people working with him within the ministry- they can put a stop to this before it goes too far.”

“Go to the owlery, send Andras. Write down everything you know. I‘ll go find professor Amren.”

Elain turned on her heel, but Lucien clamped a hand on her upper arm and dragged her in for a fierce kiss.

“Ugh!” Sir Cadogan exclaimed. “Children, please!”

Elain smiled against his lips, despite it all.

“He won’t get away with this,” Lucien whispered, pressing his forehead to hers for a heartbeat. “And when it’s all over, I’ll make sure everyone knows that it was you who saved the day.”

Elain giggled. “And I’ll deny it.”

“I know. It’s part of what I love about you.” And with that he turned and ran down the hall.

Elain hesitated for a beat, his words echoing around her brain.

“I daresay that boy’s just declared he loves you!” Sir Cadogan quipped from behind her.

Elain felt her face grow hot- and then she remembered where she was. Right. She’d analyze that later.

She broke into a run, and didn't stop until she reached the owlery. The mingled scents of animal droppings and hay hit her like a brick wall as she stepped into the circular room. Owls of all colors and description dozed around the room, but she found Lucien’s snowy owl immediately where he perched next to two barn owls. The owl opened a bleary eye as she approached him, clicking his beak in irritation.

“Don’t look at me like that. I have a job for you. It’s important.”

The bird sat up straighter at that, ruffling his feathers and blinking at her with his mismatched eyes. Elain found some stray parchment and quickly scratched out a letter to Professor Spell-Cleaver, telling him what she had seen and what Professor Hybern had tried to do. When she was done she rolled it into a tight scroll and closed with a piece of string.

“Find Professor Spell-Cleaver,” Elain told the snowy owl. “As fast as you can, Andras.”

The owl clicked his beak importantly and held out a leg for her to attach the note. Before she could do so, however, there was a flurry of movement around her as owls fluttered their wings and woke from their slumber. Andras’ eyes went slightly wide and he seemed to go very still.

Elain whirled, heart pounding, and gasped at the sight of a magnificent phoenix sitting on the ledge of one of the many windows cut into the circular tower. She had never seen Professor Spell-Cleaver’s phoenix, but they were such rare animals that she had little doubt to whom this one belonged to. The bird looked at her for a beat, and there was such intelligence in its eyes that Elain felt like the bird could somehow read her mind.

And then he stretched out his brilliant ruby and gold wings, swooped through the air, and snatched the scroll of parchment from her fingers. Another flap of his ruby wings and the phoenix had flown out of the owlery and disappeared into the late afternoon sunshine.

---

He should have listened to his wife all those times she had urged him to retire.

The Prime Minister couldn’t stop thinking about it as the door to the safe room slammed shut, and the lock clicked into place. If he had only listened to her he could be with her in their country house at this very moment, far away from whatever disaster was currently taking place in the streets of London. And more importantly, it would be someone else’s responsibility to clean up the mess afterwards.

Drugs. That had been the last report he’d been given before getting sequestered to safety. A coup, led by a rogue militia in some type of drug-induced hysteria.

It was, of course, all wrong, but he couldn’t exactly explain to anyone how he knew this. Tear gas and barricades would do nothing against this particular enemy. And neither, he thought uncomfortably as he looked at the solid iron door to the safe room, would locks.

It was them. The others, as he referred to them in the privacy of his own mind. The minister had known something was wrong when that Headmaster had kept showing up to placate him about the odd goings-on in London during the past few months. Attacks, disappearances, not to mention that unnatural fog. He might be getting on in age, and his health might not be what it used to be, but his mind still worked fine, thank you very much.

And now this. He’d have a word with that other Minister once this was all over. He’d warn him to keep his people under control, or else-

A loud pop echoed through the room, and the minister gasped in fright and fell off his chair as three figures appeared in front of him. He recognized the man in the center of the trio immediately, though he had met him only once. The minister would never forget that day, nor would he ever forget the face of the man who had shattered everything he had ever known about the world he lived in. The Minister for magic was a short, stocky man, with cold eyes and a smile that was a little too asp-like for comfort. Flanking him were two men he had never seen before, but their appearance sent a chill down his spine. They looked at him with savage, leering expressions, and their eyes appeared to be slightly glazed.

“You!” The minister hauled himself to standing with as much dignity as he could muster, suddenly enraged. How dare he just show up like this! He was so enraged he didn’t even bother to wonder at the fact that the man had just appeared out of nowhere. The Headmaster at least always sent a letter first, though seeing him walk out of bright-green flames in his fireplace was no less disconcerting.

“I know your people are behind this,” he continued. “I don’t know what they think they’re doing, but you need to go out there and put a stop to this madness.”

“Minister,” the wizard said, “How good to see you.”

The muggle spluttered in indignation. “In case you haven’t noticed, a band of degenerates are attempting a coup against my government, and I know for a fact that they are your people.”

Minister Vanserra waved a hand in apparent boredom. The muggle froze at the sight of the wand held casually between his fingers. At least the other one had the decency of not waving that thing around in his presence.

“Mine they are, though people is not exactly the term I’d use for them.”

“What does that-”

“Let me spell it out for you, Minister. You have two choices. You can yield your government to me now, and we can continue to work together peacefully as we’ve always done. Except, from now on, I’m relieving you from the heavy burden of carrying this secret all by yourself.”

“You… what does that-”

“Or,” the wizard interrupted, “you can resist, in which case I’ll be forced to kill you. I’d rather not go to the trouble of appointing a replacement who suits my needs, so I really would much prefer the first option.”

The muggle clasped his hands behind his back to hide their trembling, though he knew the wizard would see through his false bravado. His words weren’t making sense, and yet he had a vague, and horrible idea that he knew precisely what was going on here.

He glanced behind him at the locked door, and at the cameras mounted into the ceiling. Perhaps he just had to keep him talking long enough. Pretend to yield, until the threat could be neutralized.

But by whom? It would take hours to assemble the military might necessary to take on even a few wizards.

“And before you take too long to decide,” the wizard drawled, “please know that the degenerates, as you called them, are actually a host of highly trained werewolves and vampires. They’re under orders to stay relatively civil for now, but that can change very quickly.”

Terror shot through his veins, rendering him momentarily mute. “What do you plan on doing to us?”

The wizard smiled, though there was nothing but cold menace in the gesture.

“For starters, I’m going to let my dogs here have a bite of you. They’re very hungry, you see, and they’ve developed a taste for muggle flesh.”

The muggle blanched as the two men flanking the Minister for Magic bared their canines.

“And then,” Beron continued, “the wizarding world will hide no longer.”

The muggle fell to his knees. “Please- please, you said you didn’t want to kill me. I’ll work with you, I’ll do anything-“

“You will do no such thing.”

He was so blinded by terror that at first he couldn’t tell where the deep voice had come from. And then another man (another wizard) stepped out of the shadows.

It was the oddest sight the minister had ever seen, and that was saying something, all things considered. The Headmaster wore robes of deepest blue, edged in golden sunbursts. He looked a little unkempt, at least more so than usual, and on his shoulder sat the most magnificent bird he’d ever seen. Its plumage was a mixture of fire red and vivid gold, with tail feathers that dropped all the way to the floor. Like some kind odd peacock.

The door slammed open, and the minister scrambled to his feet and backed away towards the wall as wizards flooded the small space. Their wands were all raised- but not towards him.

“What is the meaning of this?” Minister Vanserra spat.

The floor seemed to tremble as the Headmaster stepped forward, and the minister noted with some satisfaction that Vanserra seemed to recoil slightly.

“Please know that it brings me great joy to say this. Beron Vanserra, you are under arrest for the following crimes: the attempted violation of the International Statute of Secrecy, the unauthorized and unregulated use of the Imperius charm, and the unjust detainment of the following individuals. Bartemius Koschei, Silas Crump, Chiara Lobosa, Scarlet Sparks…

The Minister for Magic continued to rage as the list of names went on and on. Wizards surrounded him on all sides, wands raised.

“He is a WANTED FUGITIVE!” the minister bellowed, gesturing towards the Headmaster. “Arrest him!”

“That’s not going to happen,” Helion said smoothly. “It’s over, Beron. We have the evidence we need to let you rot in Azkaban forever.”

The Prime Minister did not have any idea what Azkaban meant, but from the look on the Minister for Magic’s face he didn’t think he wanted to find out, either. A kind-looking wizard was guiding him towards a chair, and he was suddenly so exhausted that he didn’t protest. He wasn’t sure how his legs were still functioning properly.

“It’s all right, Sir,” the man was saying. “Our team of Obliviators are already hard at work to contain the situation. The injured are being dealt with as we speak.”

“Quite right.”

The Minister didn’t have the energy to tell the man he had no idea what he was talking about. He sighed heavily as he considered the shitstorm he would be facing with the media. “I need to telephone my wife.”

The wizard brightened. “I know what that is! It’s like the visitors’ entrance to the Ministry for Magic!”

“The…” The minister racked a hand over his face. “Sure. If you say so.”

---

Lucien had barely slept. He and Elain had spent the entire evening and part of the night in the Headmaster’s office, going over the events of the night before over and over again. First to Professor Amren, then to various ministry members, then to Professor Spell-Cleaver. The Headmaster had reappeared around midnight, and though he looked nothing short of murderous he had simply sat down at his desk as if he had never left.

And then, finally, they had recounted the story to his mother. Lucien was so wrung out by then that he had almost wept as she had appeared in the Headmaster’s hearth alongside Eris. Whatever adrenaline had kept him functioning finally gave out, and he let his mother cradle him like a child as the full implication of what had happened hit him like a brick.

His father had been arrested. Arrested, and taken to Azkaban, where he would await a trial that most likely would not end up being kind to him.

“It’s over,” his mother had whispered, as she held him in a vice grip. He wasn’t sure if it was more to reassure him, or her.

It wasn’t over, of course. There would be a trial, which would most likely get dragged out into a long and very public spectacle. The newspapers would have a field day with it, and it would be while yet before his family could get any sort of peace.

In the end Madam Madja had clucked her way into the Headmaster’s office and demanded he and Elain be allowed to get some rest. She had practically forced a sleeping tonic down their throats, and though sleep had claimed him the second his head hit the pillow, nightmares had plagued him the whole night.

As soon as dawn broke he gave up trying to sleep and silently crept out of the dormitory. The castle was still slumbering, unsurprising given the early hour, but it almost felt as if all its inhabitants had breathed a sigh of relief, and could finally sleep easily. Lucien wondered how long it would take for him to sleep without his treacherous mind immediately conjuring up the image of Professor Hybern threatening Elain. Or of those cells in Azkaban, filled with people who weren’t so different from him. He needed to finish packing, but there was one last question he needed answered that he hadn’t dared ask last night in front of everyone.

The stone gargoyle guarding the Headmaster’s office looked at him coolly as he approached.

“Cockroach clusters.”

The gargoyle blinked at him insolently, but didn’t move. Shit. Of course he would have changed the password, after everything. Lucien sighed and turned to leave. He was halfway down the hallway when a pointed cough behind him made him turn around again. The gargoyle had moved, though it looked offended to have been asked to do so.

“Thank you!” Lucien hurried past it and up the spiral stairs. The double doors to Helion’s office were ajar, but he knocked before poking his head in.

“Mr Vanserra. Come in.”

The Headmaster had his back to him as he stood at the window, looking out at the rising sun. When he turned there was a warm smile on his face, and though Lucien doubted the Headmaster had slept at all, he looked as upbeat as ever.

“There’s nothing like a sunrise over the lake, wouldn’t you say?”

Lucien glanced out the window, to the candy-colored sky reflected in the mirror-still lake. There was a lone figure sitting on the banks, also looking in the direction of the sunrise.

“I’m not usually awake to see it,” he replied truthfully.

Helion chuckled, and turned towards the window again. They watched as Grawp stretched his arms wide, and then curled up on his side underneath a large oak.

“Where will they go?” Lucien asked curiously.

“They are on their way back to their home in the mountains. With the eternal gratitude and friendship of the wizarding community, something they haven’t had in centuries. And as for Grawp,” the Headmaster shook his head fondly, “he has requested to remain at Hogwarts. Our groundskeeper is training him as an apprentice.”

It was Lucien’s turn to laugh. “He might be a match for the Blast-Ended Skrewts.”

“Indeed.”

Lucien glanced at the lake again, and shivered as he remembered the grey faces of the merpeople, peering at him curiously from their windows. There was another sight that he wouldn’t soon forget.

Bad, Grawp had warned him.

“Are the merpeople evil?” he blurted. “I never knew there were so many of them.”

Helion blinked in apparent surprise, and Lucien immediately felt idiotic. “Not more or less evil than anything residing within the Forbidden Forest.” The Headmaster gave him a long, steely look, as if reminding him that he was well aware of much time Lucien had spent in that very forest.

Lucien coughed awkwardly. “Right. Like the giants.”

“Giants, Acromantulas, Centaurs. They all look out for themselves, in the end. We are all only as evil as our intentions.”

The silence that fell was heavy, as if a shadow had fallen over them- a shadow shaped like the man whose name he bore, and whose intentions had never been anything but evil.

Helion sighed heavily. “Cup of tea?” He waved a hand lazily and a tea set appeared on his desk.

Lucien sat in one of the chairs facing the desk, steeling his nerves for the question he truly wanted to ask.

Helion leaned back in his chair, cradling his cup of tea. “It’s going to take a while before life starts feeling normal again. But it will, eventually.”

To his horror Lucien felt his throat start to close up. What was wrong with him? He gulped some tea and coughed as the hot liquid burned down his throat.

“It’s just- how could he think this could work? Why would he even want it to?”

The Headmaster shrugged. “Power is a heady thing. Some people can never get enough. We might never know the full reason behind his motivations.” He seemed to hesitate a beat, and then leaned forward, his gaze serious. “There are some who would think it insensitive of me to tell you this, but you’re an adult, and you deserve the truth.”

Lucien’s stomach dropped. He wasn’t sure how many more secrets or revelations he could handle today. “What?”

“Your father will be found guilty, there’s no question about it. And when that happens, it will be up to the Head of Magical Law Enforcement to decide his fate.”

“Ok…”

The Headmaster hesitated another beat. “The new Head of Magical Law Enforcement is…how do I say this? Quite ruthlessly without mercy when it comes to the former Minister. Particularly in light of his treatment of Mr Koschei.”

“Good. He doesn’t deserve any mercy.”

“Lucien.” Helion sighed heavily again. “What I’m trying to tell you is that there’s a possibility Beron will be sentenced to the Dementor’s Kiss.”

Somehow that hadn’t even occurred to Lucien. “Oh.”

It was so silent in the office that it seemed even the paintings of the former Headmasters and Headmistresses were holding their breath. Lucien loosed a heavy breath. “Perhaps that might be better for my mother. Knowing he’s truly gone.”

A strange look passed over Helion’s face. “Easier for her, but not for you?”

Lucien snorted. “My father hasn’t been in my life for a long time. It makes no difference to me whether he’s rotting in a cell or dead in the ground.”

Harsh words, perhaps, but no harsher than the treatment he’d received (the treatment they’d all received) at the hands of that man. And perhaps he didn’t truly mean it yet, but eventually, once the dust settled, he would.

“You’re nothing like him, you know. You could never have been. There’s nothing of him in you.”

Lucien blinked. It was an oddly familiar thing to say, even for Helion, and he felt himself flush with embarrassment.

“I knew your mother at school, you know,” Helion continued, seemingly undeterred by Lucien’s embarrassment.

That was news to Lucien. Helion seemed so ageless that he could have declared he was anywhere between thirty-five and a hundred years old and Lucien wouldn’t have questioned him. “I didn’t know that.”

“She was…very special to me.”

It took a moment for his meaning to sink in, and when it did Lucien’s mouth dropped open in shock. He slumped a little in his chair, as if it would help the floor open up and swallow him whole. “You dated my mother?” he blurted.

The Headmaster chuckled softly. “Your mother was my first love. My only love, perhaps.”

He wasn’t sure why Helion was choosing this moment to tell him this, but he suddenly couldn’t meet his gaze. “Why are you telling me this?”

He was silent for so long that Lucien was forced to look up and meet his gaze. “Because I made the mistake of letting her go. Don’t make the same mistake I did.”

Lucien flushed hotly, fiddling with his tea cup. “I don’t plan to.”

“Good.” The Headmaster leaned back, still peering at him intently.

Another long moment passed. Lucien cleared his throat, still unnerved by the odd turn their conversation had taken. “Sir. There’s something I’ve been wondering about.”

“And here I thought you’d simply come here to entertain an old man.”

Lucien huffed a nervous laugh. “Sir. What’s going to happen to them?”

The humor twinkling in Helion’s eyes disappeared. Lucien knew that he was well aware exactly who he was talking about without him having to specify it.

“Many of them have fled,” he started. “Either they developed a liking for violence, or were inclined that way to begin with. You’re not going to like hearing this, but many of them served your father of their own free will.”

“Even though he forced them to report their every move and then arrested them as if they had no rights at all?”

Helion shrugged. “Like I said, I believe a lot of them had developed an inherent love for violence, and it seemed a natural alliance to make. Perhaps they even preferred it to the alternatives- secrecy, or a lifetime of prejudice and struggle.”

“And the others?”

A long pause. “A lot of them carry scars from what they were forced to do that will take a long time to fade. But they will be given the help they need, and will be rehabilitated into wizarding society as full citizens. As they should have been in the first place.”

Lucien’s throat closed up again. He needed to get out of here before he started weeping like a child in front of the headmaster.

“Today’s the first day of a new age,” Helion continued fiercely. “A new regime. Where there is no stigma for being different from others.”

“It won’t be so easy,” Lucien choked out.

“No,” Helion agreed. “But it will be worth it.”

There was something else he needed to ask, but Lucien couldn’t quite find the words.

“Your secret is safe,” Helion said gently, guessing exactly what Lucien couldn’t voice. “For as long as you wish it to remain as such. There is no pressure to reveal it to anyone if you don’t wish to.”

Lucien breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I…I’m not ready for people to know. Not yet.” Perhaps one day, when the taint of what his father had done had faded.

“And, Sir…” Lucien shuffled awkwardly in his chair. “My friends…I know they broke the law, but they meant no harm by it. They only wanted to help me-“

Helion lifted a palm to silence him. “Lucien. I hope you’re not under the impression that I wish to report my students to the authorities for displaying an impressive amount of magical ability?”

“I-” Lucien didn’t quite know what to say. “Well, when you put it that way…”

Helion chuckled. “I’m not going to stop you, but do be careful, will you?”

“Yes, Sir,” Lucien said quickly. He got to his feet before Helion could change his mind.

“If there is anything you or your family needs,” Helion said gently. “Please let me know. I’m at your service.”

Lucien had to look away again. “Thank you sir. I, uh…I should go finish packing.”

“Of course. Enjoy your summer.” It seemed an odd thing to say, given what they both knew was likely to happen shortly, but Lucien appreciated the sentiment all the same.

“Thanks, Professor.”

He was almost to the door when he paused and turned around again.

“Yes?” the Headmaster asked.

“It’s just, I keep thinking of something my father said, the night you…the night Koschei died.”

Helion frowned. “Go on.”

“He said…he said something about wanting me to remember my father this way. Why would he say that? Why would he want me to remember him like that?”

That same strange look passed over Helion’s features, but it was gone as quickly as it came. “Beron was a hateful man. Perhaps he only meant to rattle you.”

“Yeah…maybe.”

Helion’s words went around and around his mind as he slowly made his way to the Great Hall for breakfast. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice the figure trying to get his attention until they were directly in front of him, blocking his path.

“Lucien! Hey.”

“Rhysand.” Lucien felt a trickle of dislike at the sight of the Slytherin, as he always did.

Rhys ran a hand through his immaculate black hair, looking uncharacteristically awkward.

“I heard what happened.”

Lucien gritted his teeth. “I’m assuming there’s not a single person in the entire wizarding community who hasn’t heard by now.”

Rhys winced, but rallied. “I wanted to give you this.” He reached into his pocket and held out a heavy velvet pouch.

Lucien blinked at him. “What’s that?”

“The winnings from the Tri-Trials Tournament.”

“Oh. Congrats.” Lucien had completely forgotten about the Tournament, and found he couldn’t bring himself to care that Rhysand had won.

Rhys shrugged. “I won by default, nobody else finished the last Trial…” To his credit he managed to look slightly sheepish. “You should have this.”

“Why? Because my father was arrested?” His tone was uncharitable, perhaps, but it felt good to vent for a second.

“No. Because you would probably have won, if you hadn’t…” he trailed off uncomfortably.

Lucien remembered that Hybern had been Rhysand’s Head of House. Rhys may be a prick, but he wasn’t a sociopath.

“Anyway,” Rhysand continued, thrusting the sack of coins at him, “do what you want with it. I just wanted the title, really.” His smug grin lacked some of his usual bravado, but Lucien smirked back nonetheless.

Elain was waiting for him by the doors to the Great Hall, and Lucien almost sagged in relief as he saw her. She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the marble staircase wordlessly.

“Where are you taking me?”

She threw him a little grin over her shoulder, and something about the gleam in her eyes made his blood heat a few degrees. They were silent until they reached Sir Cadogan’s corridor. The knight was busy leading his trolls in a sequence of pliés and barely glanced at them as Elain walked back and forth across the empty stretch of wall. A door appeared, and she tugged him inside.

Lucien had to glance back at the door to make sure they were actually inside the Room of Requirements. Where there should have been a floor there now stretched a vividly green lawn, rippling with a phantom wind and dotted with patches of wildflowers. The ceiling mimicked the sky outside- less believably than the enchanted ceiling in the Great Hall, but still giving the impression of basking in the early morning sunshine. A checked picnic blanket had been laid out, with a variety of breakfast dishes and a pot of tea.

Lucien laughed. “A picnic in a garden.”

Elain smiled shyly. “You really can ask this room anything you want.”

“We could have gone outside, you know, if you wanted a picnic.”

Her cheeks turned deliciously pink. “I wanted to be alone for a bit.”

Lucien pulled her in close, pressing his nose to her sweet-smelling curls. Her body relaxed against him, and she was so soft and warm that he could have happily stood there until the start of next term.

“It’s just…” Her voice was muffled from where her face was pressed against his chest. “Everyone will be looking at us weird and asking questions, and I just-“

He squeezed her tighter. “I know.” He felt such a rush of affection for her then that it knocked the breath clean from his lungs. “Archie?”

She looked up at him, brown eyes warm and trusting. What had he done to deserve this? Perhaps he’d simply gotten lucky.

“I love you.”

Her eyes widened, and then her face split into a grin so wide it looked like it hurt. “I love you too, Lucien.”

His throat was tight again. What was wrong with him today?

“Really?”

Elain laughed. “Yes, silly.”

He kissed her then, sweetly, slowly, and she melted further into him. Lucien would have happily stood there kissing her until it was time to leave for the Hogwarts Express, but Elain tugged him down to the blanket.

She broke the kiss, eyes searching, and bit her lip shyly.

“Yes?” he teased, nudging her hair with his nose.

Elain swallowed thickly. She took in a shaky breath, and then shifted until she was straddling his lap.

“Oh.”

He pressed a kiss to her neck, and then another, until she pushed at his chest to make him look at her.

“I don’t want yesterday to be what we think of when we remember our last day.”

“We’re coming back next year, you know,” he teased, if only to calm his racing pulse.

She fixed him with such a dry look that he nearly whined. “You know what I mean.”

He laughed and pressed his mouth against her ear. “And what would you like to remember instead?”

Her fingers tightened on the hem of his shirt for a beat, and then slipped underneath tentatively.

“If you want to see me without my shirt on you’re going to have to ask.”

She shivered, and Lucien had to shift to avoid her noticing the evidence of the effect she was having on him. Elain chose that moment to look down, and her delicate blush deepened.

“I could just take it off myself.”

Lucien groaned. Merlin she would kill him. He lay back on the grass, admiring the view of Elain straddling him.

“Do your worst, Archie.”

It was only later, once the Hogwarts Express was nearing King’s Cross Station, that Lucien remembered the sack of coins in his trunk. He fished it out and dumped it into Elain’s lap.

She lifted her head blearily from where she’d been dozing against the window. “What’s that?”

“Your payment.”

She blinked at him for a beat, and then threw her head back and laughed. Lucien let the sound wrap around him, like a cloak of sunshine he could take out and wrap around himself in the dark days ahead.

Vassa kicked him in the shin and rolled her eyes. “Pig.”

“What? I meant for doing so great during the Tournament. It's not my fault you all have dirty minds.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Elain fell silent, looking at the bag of money with a mixture of emotions on her face.

“Good things can still come from it, you know,” Lucien said gently. “If they don’t, then the dark side wins.”

“That sounds like something Helion would say,” Jurian drawled from where he sat curled like a cat in Vassa’s lap.

Something about made Lucien pause. It hit him slowly at first, and then all at once, like an avalanche.

You’re nothing like him, you know. You could never have been.

There’s nothing of him in you.

I want you to remember your father this way.

Your mother was…very special to me.

“Oh, Merlin’s saggy tits!”

---

A few years in the not-so-distant future

Lucien was late again.

They’d both been working long hours lately, and it wasn’t unusual for him to go on top-secret missions for his work as an Auror, but Elain had known him long enough to tell when he was lying.

She tried not to overthink it, but she couldn’t help the worry that gnawed away at her nerves. There was something he wasn’t telling her, and it had nothing to do with work.

She paced back and forth in their flat overlooking Diagon Alley, trying and failing not to glance at the door every minute. He was just late. No matter that it was Winter Solstice- their anniversary. He couldn’t help when work called him away.

Still, he could have sent a note.

She was uncorking a bottle of wine (and fuming slightly) when she heard a loud pop! and Lucien Apparated directly into their kitchen.

His expression was sheepish, though his eyes shone with repressed excitement. “Hi love. Sorry I’m late!”

“That’s ok.” Elain tried to sound nonchalant but she knew Lucien could read her as well she could read him.

He crossed the room in three long strides and folded her into his arms. Elain couldn’t help but let him embrace her, even with her lingering annoyance. His nose was cold where he pressed it against her neck, and he smelled like the winter air outside.

“It’s not,” he murmured. “We’ve both been so busy and I know you wanted tonight to be special.”

Elain felt rotten. “It’s fine. You’re here now. I know work has been tough lately...”

Lucien pulled back and gave her another sheepish grin. “I have a confession to make. I haven’t just been busy with work.”

Her stomach dropped. She’d been right. She had known something was wrong but she’d still hoped she had been imagining it.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been working on a secret project. It was meant to be for your birthday- clearly it took me a lot longer than I thought it would…”

“A present?” she asked stupidly.

“Of sorts,” Lucien said cryptically. “More like…setting right a wrong. Vassa’s been helping me, and so has my father. That man truly had contacts everywhere.” He shook his head and chuckled lightly.

Elain smiled at his easy use of the term father, even though she had no idea what he was going on about. It had taken a long time after Beron’s execution for his shadow to finally lift from Lucien’s family, and longer still for him to accept the fact that his former Headmaster was his father.

“Lucien, what in the world are you talking about?”

He chuckled. “Come outside.”

Elain grabbed a blanket from the back of their couch and wrapped it around herself before following him onto their balcony. It overlooked a busy section of Diagon Alley, though the trellises she had put up provided some privacy from the street below. Their flat wasn’t large, but it was cozy. They had chosen it for its location directly above a vacant commercial space, which now housed Elain’s apothecary shop. It wasn’t ideal, but it was convenient for now.

It was a clear night, but the air outside was frigid. Elain’s teeth immediately started chattering. “What are we-”

Her words died in her throat as she spotted what Lucien had wanted to show her. She didn’t believe it at first. A tawny barn owl with large green eyes- and a slightly crooked left leg.

“Crookshanks?!”

The owl squawked in delight and swooped from his perch on top of her trellis to land on her arm. Her throat tightened as her vision became blurry with tears.

“How…where…”

“It took me forever to find him,” Lucien said sheepishly. “I thought it’d be a nice surprise, but I underestimated how hard it would be. Thank god for Vassa, like I said. She made most of the telephone calls- I’ll never get the hang of using one of those…”

Elain laughed through her tears. “I thought…” She shook her head. “Nevermind. I can’t believe you’ve been sneaking around this whole time looking for him.”

She noticed a small velvet pouch tied to his leg, and raised an eyebrow.

Lucien grinned. “Wonder what that could be.”

Elain opened the pouch, and gasped so loud that Crookshanks flew away with an affronted squawk.

Inside the pouch was a ring. It was a simple solitaire, with a thin gold band and the most stunning gem Elain had ever seen. It looked like a diamond at first, but when the silvery moonlight hit it something inside it seemed to glow in shades of yellow and red, as if it held a secret inner fire. Elain cradled it in her palm as Lucien shuffled in front of her, radiating with barely restrained excitement.

“What’s this?” she asked, her voice small and breathless.

Lucien gently took the ring from her, and dropped down to one knee.

“Archie. You’re the love of my life. I’ve loved you since you were a snot-faced kid-“ Elain scoffed, and Lucien’s grin widened. “And I’ll continue to love you every day of my life. I don’t know what I did to deserve you but I’m grateful every single day. Will you make me the happiest man on earth and marry me?”

Elain took him in, from that fiery, mismatched gaze to the hopeful tilt of his grin. He looked so boyishly handsome, his nose tinged pink with cold, eyes shining with mischief. She knew every inch of that face as well as her own. He was hers, as surely as she’d ever been his.

“Yes! Yes, Lucien, of course I’ll marry you!”

He slipped the ring on her finger, and then hauled her into his arms. Elain laughed against his lips as he twirled her, his lips pressed to hers in a kiss.

“I have something for you too,” she murmured against his lips, remembering the small parcel waiting on their kitchen table. “Wait here.”

Her heart pounded as she went inside to retrieve the parcel. She hadn’t told him anything about it yet, though Azriel and his team of potioneers had been working on it for years.

Lucien unwrapped the package and looked at the stoppered bottle labeled Wolfsbane curiously. “What is this?”

“It hasn’t officially been approved by St Mungo’s yet, but Azriel says it’s just a formality at this point. It’s gone through testing and it’s perfectly safe-”

“Ok…” Lucien said slowly, turning the bottle sideways to peer at the contents. “But what is it?”

“Sorry,” Elain said sheepishly. “It’s a potion to tamper the effects of lycanthropy. I was so excited when Azriel reached out. It’s not public knowledge yet, not until he gets final approval from the Ministry and St Mungo’s, but-“

Lucien lifted a hand. “What did you say?”

Elain took his hands gently, forcing herself to calm down though she couldn’t tamper the giddy smile on her face. This would change their life- and a lot of other people’s.

“You take a full dose of it every day the week leading up to the full moon, and you’ll transform into a simple, harmless wolf. You can just curl up in bed next to me and keep me warm!”

Lucien’s mouth dropped open. And then closed. And then opened, and closed again.

Elain laughed. “I’m going to make it available at my shop. Azriel said he would brew a supply for me specially, until I get the hang of it. It sounded terribly complicated, and you know how shit I am at potions…” She was rambling, but the look on Lucien’s face was making her nervous. “Say something.”

Lucien was silent for another moment, and then he threw his head back and laughed. Howled, really, until tears streamed down his face.

“I can’t believe Ass-riel is going to win a fucking Order of Merlin for inventing a lycanthropy potion.”

“Lucien! Don’t call him that!”

But he was laughing again, and Elain couldn’t help but join in. She tilted her head back and breathed in the night air, tinged with the sweet scent of honeysuckle growing on her trellises. The moon was glowing overhead, a merry crescent shining silvery-bright. It had been a source of comfort for her as a child, and then had become a thing she’d grown to hate. And then she thought of all the things that had to happen to lead to this moment- the good, the bad, and the truly terrible.

Elain had never believed in any sort of god, and so it was the moon she looked to when she sent up a silent prayer of thanks- for all she had survived, and all it had taught her.

And she could have sworn the moon twinkled in answer.

a/n: I can't believe it's over! A million smooches to everyone who read, reblogged, and commented. Truly your support made writing this story that much more fun.

This was initially meant to be a silly little Elucien at Hogwarts love story, and it somehow turned into a much longer and MUCH more plot-heavy fic than I had originally planned. I had so much fun weaving together bits of lore from both the HP world and ACOTAR. Honestly when I first started this it was just me indulging in two of my favorites universes, and I wasn't sure if there would be much interest, so THANK YOU THANK YOU for going on this journey with me 💕

Taglist: @labellefleur-sauvage @headcanonheadcase @separatist-apologist @velidewrites @c-e-d-dreamer @queercontrarian @hallway5 @areyoudreaminof @tuzna-pesma-snova @corcracrow @vulpes-fennec @octobers-veryown @autumndreaming7 @sunshinebingo @asnowfern

#IT'S OVER😭#elucien #elucien fanfic #elucien fanfiction #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #Ass-riel redemption? who would have thought

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