#elucien fan fic

[separatist-apologist]

Golden

I once believed love would be burning red. But it's golden

Summary: To save his people, Lucien Vanserra will marry his most hated enemy.

But to love her? Well, that's another thing entirely

My humble @elucienweek2022 submission

13k words

Chapter 4: It's Golden

Read More: AO3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

10k words

She could feel his eyes on her. Watching. If she turned her head a little to the left, Elain was certain she would have seen him looking through the window. Lucien was trapped indoors, still pouring over the map she’d helped flesh out. Arina turned her head, floating lazily in the same pool Elain and Vassa were in. She sighed when she realized Elain was not listening to her latest recap of Eris Vanserra’s letter but instead trying to will Lucien to come out to the pool and join them. 

She’d put on a much more revealing swimsuit than usual, a bright orange one that all but showed every inch of her ass and most of her breasts. Elain had it on good authority that orange was Lucien’s favorite color. Not that he’d said so but Elain had begun to watch him since they returned, taking note of the things he said, even if he didn’t say them to her. Lucien was still embroiled in the drama to the east where her sister was being held. She knew her father was trying to bring Nesta back without resorting to war, a first for him.

It was only a matter of time, she suspected. Nesta was the last holdout, the only unmarried daughter. Elain and Feyre had married into royal families which she supposed soothed some of her fathers wounded pride but Cassian was none of those things.

“Hello, Elain.” Arina snapped her fingers in front of Elain’s face, dragging her back to reality. “Are you listening?”

“She’s too busy thinking about the prince,” Vassa teased, sliding from her raft into the cerulean water. It was especially hot with the promise of even warmer weather as they crept closer and closer towards summer. Elain joined Vassa, if only to dodge Arina’s question. 

“Tell us more of King Eris Vanserra, then,” Elain teased. “I don’t think I’ve heard how lovely his eyes are this morning.”

“Or how tall he is,” Vassa added while Arina sat on her raft, crossing one toned leg over the other.

“Tell us again how he uses his mouth—”

“Okay, alright,” Arina snapped. “And what of Jurian and his mouth?”

Vassa laughed. “He’s got it on me every single night–”

“That’s…that’s a lot,” Elain interrupted before they could turn to her and demand reciprocity. She’d never get used to the way they talked or how casual they were. “Should we—”

“Elain!” Lucien’s voice barked from the terrace. He strolled into the sunlight, dressed in his fighting leathers. His sword was strapped against his belt and Elain couldn’t help but think of him as the same man she’d once seen in that war tent scrawling his name begrudgingly on a treaty. “I need you.”

Arina and Vassa immediately dissolved into giggles, splashing water at Elain as she hurried for the steps. "He needs you," they joked from behind her while Lucien ignored them entirely. Elain's cheeks burned with embarrassment. A soft rumble of nausea swept through her chest at the serious look etched in his features. She reached for him to steady herself. She was fine, he was fine, she reminded herself. Still, the old fears still lingered, and it took a moment for the blooming spots of black in her vision to clear away. 

“Is everything alright?” she asked, hating how breathless she sounded. Lucien’s eyes swept over her body, face slackened for a moment. 

“Yeah Lucien!” Vassa’s voice taunted from the pool. “Is everything alright?”

Arina’s delighted laugh seemed to drag him back to reality and Elain, still embarrassed, wrapped her arms around her bare stomach.

“All fine,” he mumbled. “You should change before we go. I’ll ah…I’ll wait outside.”

Elain didn’t know what to make of any of that, of his reluctance, of how strange and stilted he seemed, or even the fact that he looked ready to ride into battle. Some part of her wondered if perhaps he didn’t plan to go back to Velaris and he wanted to say goodbye.. With that in mind, Elain chose a white and silver dress and a beaded cord that would wrap her thick hair off her head while letting the thick curls tumble in a tail down her back. 

Lucien was antsy when she found him, pacing back and forth. He paused for the second time that day. “You look nice. Like a princess,” he added, reaching for her hand as he always did to press a kiss against the skin.

“I am a princess,” she reminded him as they stepped back into the warmth. Lucien’s smile was affection.

“Yes, how could I forget,” he agreed. 

“Where are we going?” Elain frowned when he turned her to the stables. Just one horse was waiting, saddled with light supplies. His horse. No Velaris, then. Lucien helped her up, swinging a toned, exposed leg into the saddle after her while Elain pretended she didn’t like he continued to ride like this. Elain was perfectly capable of sitting on her own horse, had been taught to gallop and trot on her own as a little girl. And yet when he was settled behind her, body nestled between his thighs, arms around her body, Elain found she far preferred this sort of travel, even if it was slower.

“The ruins,” Lucien murmured, his breath warm on her neck. 

“I didn’t know there were ruins nearby,” Elain squeaked. It had been too long since they’d spent any substantial amount of time together. Having returned three weeks earlier, Lucien had immediately retreated into politics and subterfuge, pouring over the map he’d had her finish on the ship. She often saw him and Jurian walking about, heads close together as they spoke, twin images of the serious prince and general she supposed they were. He still came to bed but it was often later than she had the ability to keep her eyes open. She’d jerk awake in the night to find herself wrapped around him before he vanished in the early hours of morning. Within all that, Lucien had taken to waking her with his lips and tongue and hands, settling between her thighs until she realized her pleasurable dreams were really just him unable to help himself. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy it…it was that she missed him.

Lucien, unaware of her thoughts, continued to keep his mouth practically glued to her neck as he continued, “There was an ancient city nearby. If it existed in the forest or the forest came to claim it, I couldn’t say.” “Why are we going?”

Lucien led them out of the city before he responded. “I haven’t seen you in too long,” he finally murmured when there was nothing but the sun beating down on them to witness his words. “And I’ve missed you.”

Elains heart sped up at the admission. “So have I,” she told him, trying to control her breathing. Was three months all it took to turn her from the good, northern daughter she’d been raised to be and his creature? She hadn’t felt an ounce of guilt as she’d told him about each main road, each city and village and town and the ports dotted along the coast. She’d told him what they produced, where wealth was concentrated and in what families. If Lucien wanted to cause problems, he had the information to do it. 

She’d long abandoned her thoughts about whether telling him was wrong. It didn’t matter, not anymore. Not when her father had given her up and then tried to take her back without considering what he’d even done in the first place. No apology, no remorse. It was merely an expectation she would suffer for his war, for his obsession with conquering the continent and making himself High King.

And Graysen…her once great love. She couldn’t forget the rage in his eyes, how furious he’d been when he realized she hadn’t done what he said. He, too, could give her up, could trade her like she was worth nothing but the moment she expressed agency or desire she became the traitor, the problem, the out of control woman who had to be brought to heel violently. She resented that he viewed her as property only, an extension of the things he owned and could give away. 

Lucien kissed her cheek as they began to crest back up a hill. She could see the expanse of woodland in the distance though it was a larger, wooden tower that dominated her line of vision that fascinated her. “What is that?”

“It’s a beacon,” he replied, tilting his head so his red hair spilled over his shoulders. “It hasn’t been used in centuries though we maintain it, just in case. If there ever was an invasion of Naxos, someone would stay behind and light it to warn the other cities. We don’t hold our army here—when we aren’t fighting, soldiers go home.”

“Stay behind?”

Lucien kissed her cheek again, his hand rubbing against her stomach. “Anyone who could stay and defend us would. The rest would take the tunnels out towards the east to Rhodes. It’s our easternmost city. From there we could flee to another continent or to Velaris. It hasn’t happened in living memory,” he added, perhaps sensing her tension. “And you, as princess, would leave with the everyone else. It would be your duty to ensure their safety, just as it would be my mothers.”

“Who stays?”

He shrugged. “A volunteer if we could spare one. They’d have to close the tunnel, hiding it from invaders, and ride out to light the beacon. It’s a suicide mission. It used to be the steward of the city, from what I understand, but…”

But their current steward was so old Elain didn’t think he could get himself in a saddle. 

“It’s not possible,” he added after a moment. “The moment someone steps foot over the border, beacons go up. We’re always well warned and well prepared. It’s why fighting is concentrated to the first fifty miles of land between the border. The north has never gotten any further and they never will. Sleep safe, princess, knowing your home is well defended.”

“Is there a reason you keep calling me princess,” she teased as they approached closer to the forest. She expected him to plunge into the woodland, to take her directly to the ruins that lay within, but Lucien halted a good fifty feet away to slide out of his saddle. He offered her his hand, ever the gentlemen, before pulling her back against his chest, arms around her neck. Fingers swept her hair off her shoulder so he could tilt her, his mouth against her ear.

“Do you remember when you asked if I would chase you?”

“Lucien,” she whispered, trying to turn in his arms but he didn’t budge. 

“I haven’t seen you in a long time. It’s given me time to plan this. I want you to run…I’ll give you a heads start before I come looking.”

“Am I to pretend you’re an invader?” she demanded, skin prickling with arousal. Lucien sucked in a breath.

“Yes,” he whispered. “We saw each other when I stepped into your city…you know what will happen if I catch you.”

“And what if I get lost?” she whispered. Lucien’s chuckle was dark, decadent. 

“I’ll find you.”

“But what if—”

“There is no possibility in which I don’t,” he whispered, lips caressing her skin. “And when I do, I’m going to tie you up and have my wicked way with you…and it’s going to take a long time, Elain.”

He waited for her to tell him no, to protest and remind him that princesses didn’t run through the woods to be rutted like an animal, and yet…and yet her whole body was pulled tighter than string at the thought, of exploring this danger with someone she could trust. 

“Afterwards we’ll sleep under the stars,” he added, his voice lightening. 

She could tell him no. It was that realization that had her pulling from his grasp. “If you lose me, I will be very angry with you,” she warned, inching away from him. Lucien’s entire face lit with predatory intent. 

“There is nowhere you could run within my borders where I would not find you,” he promised. He’d said as much the first night in Naxos when she’d begged him to let her go. Their eyes met and Elain backed another step towards the forest. She could just see it, in that moment. Her, standing on the gray flagstones of the city square as a foreign army swept through the gate. Horrified of what that meant, of what they’d do. He’d come in, every inch the warrior prince, eyes sweeping for his next move. They’d see each other and he’d smile, just like he was then. Elain pushed back yet again, heart hammering in her chest. 

“You don’t know my name,” Lucien reminded her, voice low—rough. “If I hear you say it, I’ll assume you want me to stop.”

“Do you know mine?”

He smiled wolfishly. “I’ve been watching you, Elain of Ellesmere, for a long time.”

It was those words, spoken with such low intensity against his smoldering eyes, that made her turn and run. Lucien’s rumbling laugh chased after her though he remained in the shadow of the dense, tall trees. It took Elain very little time to understand why Lucien wasn’t concerned about losing her. She was loud. Even when she slowed her steps in an attempt to be more intentional her sandals crunched against fallen leaves and twigs. The skirt of her dress dragged and lifting it did little to help. She was hyper aware of every little noise, every shift in the wind. 

It wasn’t fear that moved her forward but anticipation. In this fantasy, one where Elain wasn’t, somehow, the same person she’d been three months ago, she almost wanted to be caught. In real life she certainly did. She liked being outdoors but not like this. Not alone, tramping through underbrush and dirt by herself waiting for her husband to leap out from a bush and drag her to the ground.

Her steps slowed as time wore on, moving her forward over the hilly landscape. Elain didn’t stop until she stumbled over a loose piece of flagstone. Ruins, he’d said. Steps were carved into the hill, taking Elain up over jagged, loose stone crumbled away by time. Elain was breathless by the time she reached the top of the ruined palace. Weeds and vegetation had overtaken it, pushing through the once beautiful white marble floors, vines and flowers snaking around toppled pillars weathered away by wind and rain. Some walls were still somewhat intact, giving her the shape of this place. 

Elain took one step and Lucien, casual and lovely, strolled from behind one of the walls, one broad hand resting on his sword. “Princess,” he called, his voice rich and mocking. Elain had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. He’d known, then, that she’d end up here and had merely beaten her to it. How long had he stood her waiting? The sun was flickering in the distance, casting long shadows over everything it touched. He took a step towards her, prince of this place and Elain half wanted to give in, to pull him close and kiss him until he’d forgotten why they’d come out here in the first place.

She didn’t miss the way he had a length of rope casually slung over one shoulder, wound up just as he promised. He watched her with a feral kind of hunger, so clearly hoping she’d play along.

“Found you.”

“Come no closer,” Elain ordered, trying to embody the woman she’d once been. She held out one hand, as if that would keep him from her. Lucien’s grip on his sword tightened, his excitement evident. 

“Or what?” he taunted. “You’re an awfully long way from home.”

She had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. “I’ll scream,” she whispered, skittering back a step when he came towards her with powerful strides. Too late, Elain remembered how she’d once stared at Jurian’s legs, the first set of male thighs she’d ever seen. She vowed to tell Vassa when she returned, certain her friend would find it amusing. 

Lucien looked genuinely pleased with how things were playing out. He licked his lips, ever the animal Graysen too often accused him of being and oh, some small part of her wished it were real. 

“Go ahead,” Lucien invited, raising his arms in invitation. “Scream as loud as you like. No one is coming for you.”

Elain darted out of his grasp, catching the way his muscles coiled. He missed her by inches, fingers grazing her skin and leaving burning heat in their wake. He laughed again, a sound that sent rippling shivers up her spine. He was so handsome, so lovely…all the wrong thoughts to be having in a scenario in which he was attempting to debauch the captured princess.

Lucien knew the ruins better than her, knew this sprawling, marble landscape like the back of his hand. He whirled around a pillar when she turned, hoping to find leaves and dirt beneath her feet, and caught her in his arms.

“Let me go,” she whispered, wanting very much the opposite. Lucien didn’t oblige—he wouldn’t until he heard his name spoken or some other words that convinced him they were no longer playing a game. 

“Not on your life,” Lucien growled, tongue sliding over the side of her neck. Elain exhaled, unable to hide her reaction to his touch even as he hauled her over his shoulders and began to walk. Her protests were half hearted though she knew he found it amusing when she pounded her fists against his leather clad torso. It was meant to stop a sword from harming him. She doubted she registered at all.

Elain was delighted to see he’d set up a little camp along unbroken marble floors, with blankets and other things that would make sleeping outdoors pleasant. “Stop it,” Lucien grumbled, breaking his character for a moment when she felt her press a kiss against the back of his bicep. 

“Let me go,” Elain ordered breathlessly, adopting her bossiest tone. “You have no right—”

Lucien pulled her from his shoulder, setting her to the ground in a mockery of rough handling. He straddled her hips, holding her wrists above her head while she writhed, if only to feel this hardness against her stomach.

“My husband will be coming for me.”

That amused him. Lucien clearly had not expected her to say such a thing. Eyes glittering, he tied the rope around her wrists just tight enough she couldn’t escape but not so tight her hurt her. 

“He’ll kill you when he finds you,” she added, if only to stroke his ego a little. 

Lucien leaned forward, hair tickling her face. “I’m sure he’ll try.”

Lucien secured the other end of his rope to a nearby pillar, holding her against the soft blankets she supposed they were pretending didn’t exist. When he finished, Lucien came to crouch beside her, making a big show of undoing his belt and tossing his sword aside. She hadn’t seen him undress in so long she didn’t want to turn away, though she supposed any reasonable lady would have.

“I’m starting to think your husband doesn’t fuck you well,” Lucien told her, amusement bright when he realized she fully intended to watch him remove his clothes. “Do you see something you like?

His sandals and shin guards went first, followed by the leather vambraces at his wrist. “You’re disgusting,” she lied, earning a delighted laugh for her trouble. “Is this how you treat women where you’re from?”

“My women like being treated this way,” he crooned, reaching for the straps on his shoulders. Elain’s breath caught in her throat when he unbuckled them, revealing the vast expanse of his flat, toned chest. He pulled against her rope, legs clamped together, suddenly desperate to touch him. 

The last of his clothes fell away, tossed to the side with his hidden bag revealing every perfect, golden inch of him. He was so lovely, so perfect. She whimpered, fingers curling to fists. Touch me, she wanted to scream, watching him still crouched beside her as he reached for the half hard cock between his legs. “I’ve been watching you.”

“What have you learned?” Elain replied. Lucien reached behind him for a knife, and too late, sliced open the length of her rather nice dress without warning. Elain gasped, her irritation obvious enough to draw a sheepish sigh from his lips. She hoped he’d thought to bring an extra or she’d be living in the ruins full time. 

Lucien tossed the knife above her head just out of read, letting his calloused hands slide down her body. “You spend your nights alone,” he whispered, lowering his head to her breasts. “Not a man in sight.”

“He’s busy,” she shuddered, trying so hard not to arch into his touch. 

“Too busy for his lovely wife?” Lucien teased, tongue brushing her peaked nipple. Elain’s gasp betrayed her as she supposed it might have if this had been real. 

“He is…an important…man,” she whispered. “He comes when he can.”

“Not often enough,” came Lucien’s swift reply. She wondered if it wasn’t an apology of sorts for letting duty get in the way of the attraction that existed between them. “I see you in your little swimsuits,” he added, kissing down her stomach, eyes watching.

“You have no right,” she lied. She only put them on hoping he’d look. 

“I want to rip them off with my teeth,” he groaned, pushing her once closed knees apart roughly, exposing her to the cool wind and his burning gaze. “Would you like that?”

“No.” Yes.

Lucien was so bad at this game now that he had her. She was certain no one on the planet liked licking as much as he did and was even more sure no marauder would have tied her up just to lap between her legs like he clearly meant to do. It didn’t stop her from writhing away from his mouth, prolonging the game for as long as possible while he lowered his head, fingers pulling her apart to really look.

“You’re already wet,” he informed her and as if to illustrate his point, slicked a finger through her. Elain twisted for all the good it did. Lucien was staring with single-minded fascination. Lucien’s thumb rubbed over her clit absently, using her own wet heat to lubricate the touch. “You want me.”

His voice was a touch too awed to be the fearsome, terrible warrior having his wicked way with the helpless princess.

“I don’t want you,” Elain lied, meeting his gaze. Lucien’s thumb never stopped its lazy circles.

“I’m going to take you from him,” Lucien finally said, his eyes asking her a question she couldn’t quite answer. “Make you my own.”

“You can try,” Elain replied simply, lost in that russet flame. “He’ll find you. He’ll kill you.”

He lowered his mouth, replacing his finger with his tongue with a shuddering groan. “You’re right,” he whispered, their game abandoned quicker than she thought he meant to. “I would find you. I would kill anyone who harmed you.”

That look was back in his eyes. Elain swallowed and for the first time, she was afraid.

LUCIEN:

Lucien was in far too deep. He had his wife tied up in the woods in what was meant to be a fun little game and already he’d given it up. It was her, so earnest and sweet, her words so breathless and defiant, that had wrecked it. 

My husband will be coming for me.

Lucien had never heard her refer to him as anything but Lucien. My husband. The words immediately bounced around his skull, hollowing him out. She’d said it with such conviction, eyes blazing. He’ll kill you when he finds you mingled with his own fury. I’ll fucking kill you!

What had happened to him? Who had he become? When had he become her acolyte, no better than Arina yelling at him on his ship as he sailed away? All he knew was the thought of another man tying up his wife in the forest suddenly enraged him, even though that man was him. Not that he had any intention of untying her. Elain’s body was stretched deliciously over a thick blue blanket, breasts pointed straight to the sky. Lucien rolled his neck for a moment, letting the heat of his breath mingle with the cool air of the rapidly darkening sky.

She lifted her hips, equally bad at their shared game. He should have dragged her to the ground the moment he saw her, should have lifted her skirt and plunged inside her. Lucien knew why. Graysen had gotten beneath his skin with his talk of animals, of how he was little better than a brute, a slave to his base instincts and yet Lucien could not stand, even in pretend, to hurt her.

There were words he needed to say but not then, not as he lowered his mouth to her body to truly enjoy her. They groaned at the same time in their shared relief, grateful to no longer playing. She was already wet, the heat of her a brand against his cheek. Lucien spread her wider, watching through his lashes as he licked. Elain had her head thrown back, one hand grasping her breast. He couldn’t stand it—Lucien needed her right then. There was no slow drag towards climax as he reached for his knife to cut her rope, only his frantic hands flipping her from her back to her chest, pulling her ass into the air.

She squealed when he slid inside her, rising onto her elbows. Lucien was hypnotized watching her ass cheeks bounce in time with her hanging breasts, nipples brushing the blanket beneath. Elain’s cunt gripped him like a silken fist, her body wrapped around his own like second skin. It was never going to be enough. Lucien could do nothing but give in, to pound against his wife. Each new thrust drew the wet sound of her arousal, driving him higher and higher towards climax. He was impossibly tight, holding back the urge to come until she did. It was a slow come down for Lucien, still pumping even when Elain collapsed to her stomach. When he did remove himself, still twitching and wanting and gripping the cheek of her ass, he watched his come spill out with a kind of lurid fascination.

Lucien joined her on the blanket, flinging out his arm so she’d crawl against him, breasts pressed softly against his body. Elain’s fingers were idle, dragging over the sparse hair on his chest, trailing down his stomach before running the pad of her finger over his still sticky cock.

“Are you upset I’m not pregnant?” she asked after a pleasant moment of just her touching him. Too often it was the other way around.

“It’ll happen,” Lucien replied easily. “I’m told it takes some time.”

“I felt you watching…your mother suggested raising my hips afterwards and let gravity do some of the work for me.”

Lucien wrinkled his nose. “My mother?” Why would she ever talk to Elain about that? Elain nodded, unaware of how uncomfortable it made him. 

“That’s why I was brought here, right? To have a baby?”

Ah fuck. He’d forgotten how they met, the way they’d been married on a battlefield to keep her fiance from being hung from the gates of a nearby city. Lucien felt shame wash over him. Reaching for her hand, he pressed a kiss to her palm. 

“What if we got remarried?” he murmured. “In the city. Perhaps doing it right would cause the Gods to look upon us with favor.”

Liar. Perhaps he wanted to see her bathed in the traditional gold wedding attire, walking towards him like this had always been her choice. Perhaps he wanted a portrait commissioned so he might show his future sons how beautiful their mother had been on that day. Shining and, ideally, filled with love. For this place, it’s people…him, and the family they’d one day create. 

The thought didn't even register right away. Too blinded by her smile, by the way she was creeping closer, Lucien didn't dwell on why he was offering. Why he even wanted it. 

“I always wanted a wedding,” Elain admitted gently, scooting closer. Her fingers still drifted over him, drawing a soft moan when they danced against his thighs. “Wouldn’t that be a terrible burden on your time?”

“No,” he managed when she rubbed that soft pad against his aching balls, eliciting another labored breath. “It would be good for everyone to see you that way…for them to see us that way.”

“More games,” she teased, her hand wrapped around his cock. Lucien shook his head no but it didn’t matter if he was being honest or not. Why did she feel so good like this, sweetly teasing before doing little more than squeezing him with her petal soft hands? He arched against her hand, grateful when she began to stroke him, even if she was in no hurry. 

“Do you think it would help? Getting married again, I mean?”

“We never got married to begin with,” he groaned, reaching for one of her breasts just to touch something. “That wasn’t a marriage it was an acquisition.”

“So now that you own me—”

Lucien growled, grabbing her by the hips to haul her against him. Elain squealed with delight, sinking onto his cock before she could finish that sentence. 

“Let me do something nice for my wife,” he whispered, knotting his hand in her hair to draw her fully against him, chest to chest as she began to roll that soft cunt against him. “I want to fucking marry you, Elain.”

She kissed him. “Okay.”

What Lucien ignored, as he began to fuck her again, was how little this new marriage had to do with fertility or his people accepting her. It was for him because he wanted it, because he wanted her. Elain, bathed in the last vestiges of daylight, her mouth hot and hungry, had no idea what was settling in his chest, ringing loudly like a bell. 

Lucien was in love with his wife. 

ELAIN:

Night forced Elain and Lucien to pull a blanket over their naked bodies, if only to guard from the occasional buzzing, biting insect. There was some sort of magic afoot in the ruins, some swirling, glimmering thing that made him seem so much lovelier, so much more wonderful than he’d ever been. Elain couldn’t stop touching, couldn’t stop watching. She had all his attention, laying on her stomach, head propped on her arms, while Lucien peered up at the open, star freckled sky above, and told her everything she’d ever wanted to know. 

“So your mother climbed out a window?” she was asking, so curious about the politics of his court and how his father—and by extension, Lucien himself—operated. 

Lucien turned, hands resting behind his head. She suspected he’d positioned himself this way so she could admire his toned biceps. It was working. “Yes. And she stole one of Beron’s ships and somehow managed to navigate across the ocean without help and little food, to crawl to our shores.”

“Your father risked war?”

Lucien’s gaze was unreadable. “Of course. What else could he do?”

Elain knew all too well what Helion could have done. Her father would have sent Amera back without question, wouldn’t have risked his politics on another person. He could barely risk them on his own daughters. Elain, abandoned despite her coveted status as his favorite princess, given to his worst enemy to save his war machine. 

She wanted to ask Lucien a different question. What would you do if it were me?

She didn’t dare. Not when he was easy with her, not when he seemed to enjoy her beyond just having sex. Elain knew if she asked him if he felt sentimental towards her, Lucien was likely to pull away, to put far too much distance between them. She wouldn’t risk it. Maybe in a year, after the wedding…when she was pregnant, at the very least, she might ask if he’d changed his mind about her. Her stomach churned all the same, threatening to dump the contents of earlier that day all over the blanket beneath her. Heart pounding, Elain forced herself to take several measured breaths to steady herself. They were happy. She was happy. He cared for her. 

If he could ever love her. 

“Why don’t you fight like they do…like father does, I mean?” she asked. Lucien’s lips quirked.

“Because we have a treaty that prohibits us from those sorts of tactics. And, personally, I have honor. What honor is there in victory if you have to slaughter innocents to achieve it?”

“You never invaded our city.”

“We don’t want your city. Why invade?”

“To make a point?” she asked. Lucien shook his head, turning his gaze back to the stars. 

“I have to live with my choices and I know I couldn’t if I ever marched my soldiers up north knowing full well the havoc we would wreak. I would rather continue to beat the north back than to become them.”

“He’ll never stop,” she whispered. Her gut churned at the knowledge of everything she still probably knew, the conversations she’d heard she couldn’t immediately recall, the maps she’d seen, the stories they told. “Graysen I mean.”

“He should have died that day,” Lucien said tersely, clenching his jaw. “I regret he didn’t.”

She couldn’t look at him. Lucien pulled her closer, his arm beneath her body, fingers stroking over her shoulder blades. “It’s not your fault.”

“I know,” she agreed. He didn’t understand because he didn’t feel the same. Had Graysen died, she’d still be mourning up north, would have been all but a widow. Waiting, hoping whoever came next evoked the same sense of feeling. Worse still, she never would have met Lucien.That was, perhaps, the most unthinkable thing. 

“We’ll keep meeting them every time they come,” Lucien added. “And I’ll have the satisfaction of knowing you’re waiting for me at home.”

Because she was his trophy. Elain swallowed that little piece of hurt before pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Maybe it's over,” she murmured, brushing the strands of coppery hair from his face. Lucien inclined his head into her touch, eyes fluttering shut. 

“It’s not. We’ll be lucky to get more than a year of peace before they find some fucking loophole. The only saving grace is your sisters. Nesta is still trapped in Velaris and Feyre married Rhysand. If Archeron is looking for revenge, it won’t be with us. I stole my northern daughter the old fashioned way.”

“By marrying me?” she asked dryly. 

“Exactly,” Lucien agreed with an easy smile. “Contract and all. And I know there are no loopholes to it because I was there when it was written.”

“Why not just say no?” Elain asked suddenly, shifting closer. “You could have had your revenge.”

“Well,” Lucien began, eyes back on her face. “Graysen did swear you were the most beautiful woman in the world and I confess, I was curious.”

“Seriously?”

“It wasn’t my only reason. Peace is very seductive. If I killed him, who knows what Archeron would have done…who he would have replaced him with—”

“No one,” she said quickly. “There is no one who can do what Graysen does.”

“Children grow up,” Lucien murmured. “They hope to one day outdo us. Our son will be the same…some boy in the north looks to Graysen and has those same dreams. So I said I would take you and hoped Graysen was not spinning me some tale.”

“So you would have married me no matter what?”

Lucien nodded. “I would have married you even if you were not the most beautiful woman in the world, but let me say, I was incredibly relieved when you stepped into that tent.”

“How utterly shallow, my lord.”

He grinned. “Maybe. I have no regrets.”

No regrets. The words bloomed in her chest, filling her with warmth. Lucien was still watching her, hand brushing over her cheek. “And you, sweet Elain? Did you get the dashing prince of your dreams?”

She poked him in the cheek. “I got a rogue for a husband is what I got.”

Lucien’s smile shifted, softening his face as he drew her in for a kiss. They went back to their conversation, teasing and sharing information in equal measure before Lucien tired of words and decided his body was far more effective at communicating. She didn’t know what he was trying to tell her and yet each new stroke made Elain feel seen. Special. 

Almost loved. She curled beside him when they were too tired to keep going, sweaty and spent. He rolled to his side, holding her against him, her cheek pressed to his arm. Elain had expected a night in the woods to be terrifying or, at least, uncomfortable. She woke to Lucien extracting himself during the first light of dawn to relieve himself and dig out the food they’d all but ignored the night before. 

“I don’t want to go back,” she mumbled, burrowing deeper into the blanket. She could hear the clanking of his buckles and the soft sounds of his leather. Lucien crouched, sandals laced back over his shins. 

“You have to…in that blanket. If we leave now, no one will realize how I’ve defiled my princess. Come on. You can get right back in bed when we get home.”

Elain groaned. Lucien spread the other blanket over the saddle before ensuring she was draped completely before swinging his leg up behind her. The glow that had settled around them seemed to fade, replaced by warrior Lucien and his all but naked wife. With every step closer to Naxos, his demeanor seemed to shift until she barely recognized him. He wasn’t thinking of their blanket of stars or what they’d talked about, but what he needed to do for the day. 

“I’ll talk to father about our wedding,” Lucien told her once she was back on solid ground just outside the palace. Lucien handed off their horse, his body all but shielding her from the curious gazes of the servants. “And have breakfast sent up for you.”

“You’re not joining me?”

Lucien grimaced. “I have things I need to do with Jurian today. Arina and Vassa will be around,” he added gently. “I promise to make more of an effort to come to bed reasonably.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Elain murmured as they approached the front of the palace. She rose on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, smothering her disappointment carefully. “I know you’re busy.”

He nodded, leaving Elain to walk miserably back to the bedroom they shared, still alone. Her body swayed for a moment, the spotty black popping behind her eyes for a moment. She exhaled her anxious disappointment.

She was still alone.

LUCIEN:

Lucien inclined in his chair, glancing at Jurian. “Write to Eris.”

His father rolled his eyes, turning his back from the round table of advisors and other trusted generals, all staring at the map before them. “I’m not writing Beron’s son.”

Lucien ignored that, gaze drifting back to the map of little red dots threatening to overwhelm the east. “If Archeron sweeps through Velaris, he’ll have cover in those mountains. We’ll be outmanned and without any help from our closest neighbor.”

“We’re always lacking help from our neighbors,” Ajax reminded him tersely. “I don’t see why this should be any different.”

“What is the point of Arina’s marriage, then? Tie up in conditions. Force Eris to send aid if nothing else. Weapons, supplies, coins….it doesn’t have to be his army though it should be.”

“We ought to abandon that entirely. Marry Arina to one of the generals in Rhodes, keep her in our territory. This isn’t the time to make enemies of our own men,” Ajax snapped. Lucien hated that gray haired bastard and the absolute trust his father held in him. Ajax and Helion had suffered countless wars together, had fought at each others backs the way Jurian and Lucien did. Ajax would always put Naxos above everything and believed an isolationist policy was for the best. It was short sighted. With Feyre to the east and Arina to the west, Naxos could have true allies for the first time in centuries. Tied by women and the children they bore.

Helion looked at Lucien, pursing his lips. “We could avoid war entirely by just…doing nothing,” his father murmured.

“We could engender more than a little good will by sending home Archeron’s daughter instead of flaunting her presence with this fucking wedding.”

“Watch yourself,” Lucien warned, leaning forward as Jurian’s hand slid to the hilt of his sword. “That’s my wife.”

“She’s not pregnant. For all you know they gave you their infertile daughter to waste your time with. For all that matters, she’s unharmed. Send her home as a show of our good will and let Rhysand pick up the fight.”

Lucien’s eyes snapped to his father expecting to see disagreement. The whole table shifted uncomfortably and Lucien wondered if they, too, would hand over their wives if Ajax suggested it. It was offensive, a slap in Elain’s face and worse still, the realization of every fear she’d expressed mere weeks before. 

“He has asked for her back formally,” Helion began, his voice soft and apologetic. Lucien rose to his feet, his anger threatening to overwhelm him. He couldn’t very well fight his father, not in front of this council. It was unfair—he’d married her for the good of his people and now was being told he’d have to give her back, too. Only Lucien was expected to sacrifice. His own father had demanded fidelity and now, merely three months later, was walking it all back. 

Helion caught him in the hall. “It’s not an order, Lucien—”

“Not yet,” Lucien retorted, letting his father drag him down the halls, past the curious faces of their courtiers, back to the privacy of Helion’s study. “But you are considering it. It’s foul—”

“She isn’t one of us,” Helion reminded Lucien, pacing to the large windows.

“Neither is mother. I’m curious if you intend to send her back to Eris, then?”

“Don’t you dare—”

“No don’t you!” Lucien exploded. “I have done every single thing you have ever asked of me but I made Elain promises. I swore that she would remain my wife until I died and I will not go back on them.”

“Even if it means war?”

Lucien wanted to scream. “It is always war with them! You’ll send her back—to her death, I might add—and they’ll be here in six years instead of five. What did you accomplish, except murdering an innocent woman?”

His father took a breath. “If Archeron took even half of Rhysand’s forces, we wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“We should help him, then,” Lucien pushed. “Not tuck away behind our walls and wait. Call Eris, send word to Rhysand. War is inevitable and we both know it. I will—”

“Is Elain pregnant?” Helion interrupted. Lucien swallowed, pressing his chapped lips together. 

“Is this the ultimatum then? Impregnate my wife or send her home?”

“Yes,” Helion murmured. “I will buy you time for your wedding and a celebration but at the end of the summer, if she is still not with child, we will need to consider how best to move forward…and I think you will be outvoted.”

“You’re king,” Lucien all but pleaded. “You could simply bend your will.”

“I need my soldiers to follow me. No one will understand you’ve fallen in love with Archeron’s daughter. They’ve already suggested I call Jesminda back.”

Lucien was going to vomit. “So that’s it, then? I cast her aside and just start over with a different woman? How long before Jes isn’t worthy? Shall I remarry again? And again? Perhaps all of their daughters?”

“Lucien?’ “No. If you send Elain back, I will step down and you will be left without an heir and the resulting infighting.”

Helion’s eyes flashed dangerously. “You will do no such thing. You will do your duty as prince of this city as you always have. I have given you three months.”

Lucien shook his head. “When mother learns of this, she will be unforgivably angry.”

“Your mother understands I have to make choices I hate,” his father replied angrily. “I don’t want to see Elain go.”

“I will not start over,” Lucien warned. “If she leaves, I will remain unmarried and without an heir. No matter how you try to force this to appease your courtier, our family line dies right here, in this room.”

“This isn’t my first choice,” Helion tried but Lucien didn’t want to hear another speech about honor and duty and whatever other nonsense his father might manage to conjure that would trick Lucien into thinking this was right. Graysen would brutalize Elain if he let her live, trotting her out merely to taunt Lucien for the rest of their lives. Any children she bore would only further the insult until she died miserable and alone. He couldn’t stand it. He wouldn’t stand for it. He’d try and if he failed, he’d abdicate just like he said he would, take his wife, and flee across the sea to other places.

He tracked her down to their bedroom, changing from a wet swimsuit, her skin tanned and perhaps a little red against the bridge of her nose. Long hair plastered against her face and Elain, glancing at him as she pulled her leg out of the sopping wet fabric, looked so happy. She grinned, the gesture a physical punch to the gut. 

“What are you doing in here?”

“I…” he couldn’t tell her. “I missed you.”

“We were going to get lunch,” Elain began, turning her bare back to him, her scars on full display. “Do you and Jurian want to join?”

He was sure Jurian did. “Stay.”

She looked over her shoulder, sliding a silvery robe over her body. Elain pulled her hair from beneath the fabric, her smile softening. What he wouldn’t give to see her look at him like that forever. Like he was worth smiling at, the kind of man who wouldn’t keep secrets, who would protect his wife at all costs. “Let's stay in bed for the rest of the day.”

Her smile flickered. “Is everything okay?”

Lucien shook his head no. He couldn’t tell her, couldn’t put the horror and dread over her. Not when she was so excited to be wed in front of the entire city, to become permanent, a member of his home, his place, his people. Elain would stop smiling, would draw inward and wait.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, that smile slipping entirely. Lucien went to her, pulling her cold body against his own.

 “I’m still dressed,” he said, shoving his worries deep, deep down. “And you’re unfucked.”

“You’re crude,” she whispered breathlessly. “And I should bathe before you touch me.”

Lucien slapped her ass. “Go take a bath. I’ll join you in a moment.”

Elain smiled again, scampering to the door with a quick, hopeful look over her shoulder. Lucien watched her go before scrambling to his desk. Treason. This is treason.

It was self-preservation. Helion was too worried about his soldiers, about always pushing off the inevitable. Waiting for Archeron to have an undefeatable army was madness. Lucien wasn’t going to watch it, wasn’t going to aid in the eventual slaughter of his people.

Grabbing a piece of parchment as Elain closed the door, Lucien did the only thing he could think of.

He wrote to Eris. 

ELAIN:

“You look so pretty,” Lucien whispered, fingers brushing against the nape of Elain’s neck. She stared at herself in the mirror. Who was she? The woman staring back hardly looked like the Elain she knew. Tanned, pink cheeked and dusted in gold, this woman might have lived her entire life in Naxos. Her hair was nearly blonde, so light it made her brown eyes seem darker somehow. Elain reached for one of the carefully coiffed curls, ignoring the man standing behind her and the simmering heat etched over his expression.

“You know,” she began, trying to keep her voice light and failing miserably. “Where I come from, it’s considered bad luck for a groom to see his bride before their wedding.”

“We’re already married,” Lucien reminded her with a cheeky smile. 

“Lucky you,” she teased, sweeping one last look over her body. She was practically painted in gold, from the circlet that curved through her hair, it’s little jeweled sun resting in the center of her forehead, to the make-up on her face, all the way the gown that sparkled in the light, giving the impressing someone had painstakingly placed little gems one by one over her torso and arms before it swept into a light, full skirt. Elain had never seen a bride that looked like her. At home, women wore white dresses that covered every inch of their bodies—her own back was totally bare, just as her arms, save for the golden cuff of leaves snaking up her bicep, a match for the snake on Luciens. They also wore veils that hid their faces, lifted only once the vows were spoken. There would be no veil for Elain. The entire city would be allowed to feast upon her as she stood atop that hill and spoke the ancient vows every woman before her had ever pledged to a future monarch. 

And Lucien, in his ceremonial pteurges and immaculate sandals that laced up his powerful shins, looked every inch a king. A golden cape hung from his broad shoulders, a match for her dress, for the sunburst crown against his half braided auburn hair. His arms, just her own, were unadorned though he wore golden vambraces that were hardly more than decoration. 

And his ring, which was what turned her around to look at him with her own eyes. She reached for his large hand, twisting the band around his finger. She almost told him he didn’t have to do this. That the ceremony was unnecessary–she was his wife whether the people of Naxos liked her or not.

Lucien’s lips parted. “I feel lucky,” he murmured, fingers back on her face. Her whole body tightened in response. Fear and anxiety collided with affection because so did she. She’d spent her whole life hoping for a good marriage to a good man. Perhaps not this man and yet…and yet he was kind and warm and giving and everything she’d once dreamed of. Elain pressed a kiss to his palm. 

“You’ve become soft, husband.”

“I hope not,” he joked. “I feel quite hard. Would you like to–”

“Stop it. Put that away,” she added, eyes sliding down his armored body. “At least for now.”

He bit his lip, grinning roguishly. “Okay, alright. For now. But after tonight's feast…”

“You may bring it out for my inspection,” Elain agreed. 

Lucien brushed his knuckles over her jaw. “Are you nervous?”

She scoffed. “I’ve seen your penis—”

He laughed, interrupting her words to throw his head back. The rich, booming timbre made her start. Had he ever laughed like that in front of her? Elain could only stare, her whole body vibrating as if she stood in the presence of some newly minted God. He was magnificent, so wonderful and perfect and—

The realization slammed into her like a bolt of lightning. Love. 

I love him.

“Not my penis,” he laughed, pulling her into his chest. “This ceremony. Are you nervous about the ceremony?”

Oh Gods, she thought, her stomach churning. “Why do you ask?”

“You look pale,” he replied, his mirth dying just a little. “And I’d like to kiss you, but not if you’re going to puke on my sandals.”

“You want to kiss me?” 

Lucien smiled again, cupping her jaw. “I always want to kiss you.”

He lowered his head, lips parted. She surged upwards, unwilling to wait on his slow descent, on the feather soft tease. I love you, I love you, I love you.

He inhaled with surprise, those arms wrapped around her tightening until Elain felt anchored again. Lucien tasted like a familiar dream, one that was just out of reach. A memory she was desperately trying to hold on to, something that didn’t belong to her. She held his face, proof he was, at least in that moment.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, pulling from the kiss breathlessly, eyes searching her face. Elain shook her head.

“Nerves,” she lied. “Sorry, I…”

“Don’t apologize,” he replied, kissing her again. “You don’t need to be afraid. This is your home. We’re together.”

She swallowed, unable to take her eyes off his, to look away like she knew she should. Lucien’s face shifted, his amusement fading to genuine concern. “Sweetheart…”

“I’m fine,” she lied, blinking against her urge to cry.

He released her, letting her step from that full length mirror to their bed. Elain took a gulp of cool air, trying to steady the erratic pounding of her heart. Loving her husband on her wedding day should have felt like a dream. It was a nightmare given her own uncertainty around his feelings. She wanted to just tell him. 

Lucien came behind her again, hands sliding over her arms reassuringly. “Say the word and I’ll call it all off. We’ll lay in bed and eat cake until we’re sick from sugar.”

“I’m fine,” she lied again, exhaling a steady breath. “I promise.”

He didn’t say a word, tugging her against his chest to press a kiss against her scalp. Elain inclined her head, eyes closed, until she swore she could hear the steady thumping of his heart. “I’m glad it's you,” he finally whispered, just in time for a soft knock on the door. It was time to go. Elain inclined her head upwards, so sure she would fall to pieces. His eyes burned. He didn’t need to say what he felt, not when his expression could have ignited a fire. Maybe he didn’t recognize what was happening. Elain could hardly blame him and yet she felt as if they’d chosen each other, at least in that moment. 

Elain nodded, swallowing against the lump in her throat. Lucien dropped his arms, reaching for her hand instead. They’d go out together as was the custom, would walk the winding path through the now emptied palace to the same hilltop they’d stood on for the Solstice ceremony. Elain’s heart pounded wildly with each step, her body anchored only by Lucien’s reassuring grip. He never released her, not when they emerged from the cool shade of the palace into the blistering afternoon sun. The gathered crowd spanned as far as she could see, trailing up and down the winding city streets. Banners of white and gold were hung across wooden poles while multicolored, celebratory ribbons waved cheerfully in the breeze. Children sat atop their parents shoulders, their faces bright with wonder while the citizens of Naxos drank in the ceremony with soft fascination.

Helion and his wife were waiting on the stone platform, just off the side of the white arching trellis adorned with pink and purple hyacinths, yellow dandelions, and every color of laurel flower Elain could imagine. It was so dreamy, so romantic, the sort of pageantry that belonged to story books. Even in her daydreams before she’d been sent to Naxos, Elain would never have dared to have imagined a setting such as this, backdropped against the glimmering ocean. 

And Lucien. Oh, Lucien. He hardly seemed real, bathed in sunlight. Prince of Daylight. His skin gleamed bronze, seemed to glow with some innate, inner magic. He was luminous, so utterly beautiful she couldn’t breathe. A priestess has begun speaking but Elain couldn’t hear. She’d forgotten she was being watched, had forgotten the whole point of the wedding at all. Distantly, some nervous part of her mind realized she’d forgotten to look at the gathered courtiers, to see if she’d find approval—finally—or if they’d still regard her with their suspicion and dislike. She knew they thought it should have been their daughters standing up there with him. 

It felt like fate itself had peered from the heavens to look, to bless this marriage. Perhaps that was just how being in love felt. Everything in the universe must have conspired, plotting against her best intentions to bring her here.

Lucien spoke, reciting those vows. It was more than just a promise of love and protection, but a vow to the city itself. His love, his commitment extended to everyone because he married her. And when Elain spoke, she was careful to enunciate her every word, to say them slowly and with feeling, despite how hard she found it to breathe. Let there be no mistake of her intentions. No doubt of her loyalty. 

It was to Lucien, and, by extension, to his home, his people, this land. Any last vestiges of patriotism she felt to Ellesmere were banished when Lucien’s lips touched her, a sealing of vows, a display of affection. It was hardly the same as the one he’d offered in their bedroom and yet there could be no doubting that whatever existed between them was just political. Lucien had taken her face in his hands, brushing an errant, windswept curl off her cheek. He’d smiled, mouth brushing her own.

“I love you,” he whispered, so softly that only she could hear it. His mouth became firmer, the kiss only a second though in her head, it seemed to go on for eternity.

Elain meant to say it back. She reached for him.

And collapsed into darkness on the ground.

LUCIEN:

Lucien paced back and forth through the hall, still dressed for his wedding. The ceremony had been paused in the wake of Elain’s collapse. He’d suspected something was wrong the moment he found her in their bedchamber, staring at her appearance like she didn’t recognize herself. He’d been overwhelmed, completely swept up in her beauty. She’d never looked more like a princess of Naxos as she had in that moment. 

And bathed in the golden afternoon light? Well, Lucien had managed to keep himself from shedding a tear of joy when she spoke the vows of marriage to the city with such obvious feeling and affection that even Ajax had softened. He couldn’t help himself. He had to tell her, had been so certain, given the wide-eyed way she’d been looking at him, that she must love him too.

Dread replaced affection when she’d collapsed to the ground, nearly smashing her head into the stone. He’d just barely caught her in time. Heat stroke, his father had said when the city collectively gasped. 

Did she eat? His mother had demanded, as if Lucien knew. A physician was brought to their bedroom and Lucien shoved out. His mother had been dragged in nearly twenty minutes before and remained inside, the door shut to him. He could hear nothing—no whispered words, no proclamations of good health. Just terrible silence.

Lucien continued his pacing, his sandals clacking loudly so they knew he would not be leaving until someone came and offered an explanation. His cape fluttered around him, catching in the breeze to smack him in the face. It felt like the Gods chastising him—take better care of your wife.

“I’m trying,” he whispered, frustrated. He ran a hand over his face as his father rounded the corner.

“Any news?”

Lucien opened his mouth to complain when the door opened. His mother bit her bottom lip, eyes sliding towards her husband. There was something of a smugness to her expression and for a sickening moment, Lucien wondered if Elain wasn’t dying and everyone was secretly pleased.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded of the aging doctor. His mother pressed her lips together, hiding her smile. If Elain died, Lucien would too. He would not survive it, would follow her into the next life—

“The heat overwhelmed the princess,” the physician interrupted. “She should never have been made to stand like that given her condition. We’ve spoken, and she understands she needs to remain in quieter, cooler places for the time being—”

“Her condition?” Lucien asked stupidly. 

The physician clicked his teeth with exasperation. “Pregnant, your highness. The princess is pregnant.”

Behind Lucien, Helion blew out a breath. Lucien’s heart thumped painfully in his chest. “Truly?”

“Two months, give or take. She needs to rest, and to keep out of the sun,” the physician continued, brown eyes narrowing with distaste. 

“Of course,” Lucien agreed, rounding on his father. Helion held up his palms in surrender, waiting for the physician to vanish down the corridor. 

“She stays,” Lucien hissed, his triumph unmatched. “And if anyone suggests otherwise, it’ll be my blade against their neck.”

Lucien’s mother looked to his father, her eyes wide. “You wanted to send her back?”

“It was merely a thought,” Helion replied. “One that will never come to fruition. Congratulations,” he added, clapping Lucien on the shoulder. Lucien had to resist the urge to shake off his father, his resentment still hot and heavy in his chest. Later, he’d confess how he’d gone around Helion’s orders and written to his half-brother. For now, Lucien merely nodded.

“I need to see her,” he said, turning to the door. He was confident, if nothing else, his mother would give his father hell for even the suggestion Elain continue to be used as collateral. Lucien didn’t care. He’d never intended to send her back to begin with and still, as he walked back into their bedroom, the legitimacy of knowing she could never be taken from him filled Lucien with intense, unyielding relief. 

Elain was propped against the headboard with a mountain of pillows, her golden gown replaced with a breezy lilac nightdress. She looked at him, the black mascara coating her lashes smudged just beneath the hollows of her tired eyes. She seemed so scared. Lucien went to the bed, pulling her hand into his lap.

“Did…” she swallowed hard. “Did the doctor…?”

“A baby,” he agreed, scooting closer.

“Are you mad?”

Lucien choked on a hysterical laugh. “Why would I be mad?”

She drew her legs up to her chest, blinking rapidly against the tears she couldn’t keep at bay. Lucien came closer still, pulling her into his body. “Why are you crying? This is a wonderful thing.”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’m happy, I…”

Lucien kissed her temple. “You don’t need to worry about anything except resting,” he said, smoothing golden brown curls from her face. “I will worry about everything else.”

“Did you mean what you said? This afternoon, when you…”

“Yes,” he said immediately, thumb stroking her warm cheek. “I love you.” The relief he felt, saying those three words, was unmatched. Elain, too, looked as if some terrible weight had been lifted from her chest.

“I wanted to tell you before we left—”

“Good thing you didn’t,” Lucien interrupted, ghosting his lips over her temple. “Or I might not have let you leave.”

“I wouldn’t have collapsed, though,” she replied with a sigh. “How embarrassing. Was everyone annoyed?”

“Worried,” he insisted. “You were utter perfection. If anything, it just confirms their opinion that I do not take good care of you.”

Her eyes went wide. “They do not think that–”

“Trust me, sweetheart. They absolutely do. Ever since the hurricane,” he added, kissing her again. “They like you far more than you think.”

Elain pressed a little closer. “Really?”

“Yes,” Lucien agreed. “And they will like you far more when they learn you’re carrying a future heir.”

He pressed his hand against her stomach, marveling that there was life brewing just beneath the skin. His son, he thought with emotion. “The whole city will be chasing after me with clubs, demanding I be a better husband.”

“I think you’re a good husband,” she murmured, nuzzling her head into the crook of his arm. 

“Well, the bar is quite low,” Lucien teased. “I met Gray–”

“Don’t say his name,” she demanded fiercely, eyes blazing. “I don’t ever want to think of him again.”

He chuckled. “Alright. If you say I’m a good husband, who am I to argue with my princess?”

“Your wife,” she argued. Lucien kissed her cheek.

“That’s right. My wife.”

That pacified her just as much as it settled Lucien. His wife. Married before his whole city, his affection declared unmistakably not just before his people but before the very Gods themselves. Try and take her from me, he all but taunted. Lucien would have gone to war for her, would have picked up his banner and led his armies into battle just to keep her. He knew, hand still spanning her stomach, that there was no atrocity he wouldn’t have committed to ensure she remained with him. 

He would have watched the world burn to ash before he let her go. It ought to have scared him, should have made him rethink the depth of his affection and yet Lucien only felt supreme peace at the notion. She’d been born for him just as surely as he had been created for her. 

“Lucien?” Elain asked after a moment, pulling his blood tinged thoughts back to the shady bedroom they both lounged in. He was uncomfortable in his leather, his feet hanging off the bed, still clad in sandals.

“Hm?”

“Can we still eat cake in bed?”

“Until we’re sick from the sugar?” he teased. Elain nodded her head. 

“Yes,” he agreed. “You stay here, I’ll go get it.”

“Thank you,” she sighed, settling back into the bed as he pulled away. Lucien paused at the door, turning to look back at his entire life laying that bed, legs outstretched, a hand resting on her chest. 

“Love you,” he murmured, just to hear her say it again. Elain turned her head, curls spilling over her shoulders. She smiled and fuck. Lucien had to blink against the blinding light that seemed to expand across the room.

“Love you, too.”

Perfect. 

#elucien #elucien fan fic #elain x lucien #elucien fic #giving the people what they want with this chapter #a little treat #before we descend into tomorrows chapter of pain

[the-darkestminds]

A Dying Flame

Eris POV — my first fic

Heyyyyy friends. I decided to write the two scenes UTM from Eris’s POV where Lucien is being tormented and Eris is forced to watch. It can also be found here. I’ve never written anything before so be nice to me 😭 I took a few lines directly from ACOTAR to set the scene and make it as canon as possible, but the rest came from me. I tried to channel SJM's writing style as best I could. I am trash for Eris so I couldn’t resist. I hope you guys like it 🥲 title is dumb so I might change it. I am eternally grateful for any of you who choose to read the whole thing, I promise it’s not too long! 🙏

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Eris

I stood at the edge of the gathered crowd, struggling to keep the cool mask of indifference on my face as Amarantha once again had Lucien bound and on his knees before her. Would his torment never cease? He had never quite mastered the ability to keep his mouth shut, to leash his tongue until the moment it would best serve him. Lucien’s loud mouth had already cost him his left eye, plucked right from his head by Amarantha herself. Rage coursed through me at the role I was forced to play each day under this cursed mountain. How useless I’d become at protecting those I held most dear. 

Lucien and I had not exchanged honest words in over 30 years. I longed for the chance to speak to him alone, to beg him to hold his tongue so as not to draw Amarantha’s ire more than he already had. Not for the first time, I desperately wished for the daemati abilities the High Lord of Night possessed so that I might speak to Lucien privately. Abilities he was about to unleash upon my brother.  

Beside Lucien stood a small and ordinary mortal girl, likely Amarantha’s newest plaything to torture and discard.

“Her name?” Amarantha asked Tamlin, who didn’t reply. “I don’t suppose your handsome brothers know, Lucien,” she purred.

Give up her name! I nearly begged him. To hell with the girl. Instead I heard myself say, “If we did, Lady, we would be the first to tell you.” The words tasted like poison on my tongue. My brothers chuckled from behind me.

Amarantha only smiled and nodded at Rhysand. He cocked his head, his eyes narrowing slightly on Lucien, who hissed in pain.

I tensed as Rhysand began smiling faintly. Bastard. He was a loathsome, foul bastard. And though I knew he played a role and wore a mask as much as the rest of us, it didn’t stop me from hating him as he held Lucien’s mind in his clutches.

Lucien stiffened in pain. A groan slipped out of him, and– 

“Feyre!” the girl shouted. “My name is Feyre.” 

Lucien sagged on the ground, trembling. Relief shuttered through me, and I bared my teeth and snarled quietly at the girl to disguise the trembling in my hands, my legs. He was safe, for now. And no thanks to me. 

The conversation continued, but I let my mind drift far away. Tried to feel nothing as I attempted to calm my racing heart. I clenched my sweaty palms at my sides and allowed myself a quick glance at Lucien’s prone form. Alive–for now. 

I slipped back into the crowd as they dragged Feyre away. He was alive. I repeated this to myself as the cruelty continued through the night, as it did every night in this miserable place. Alive–as I sipped wine and smiled at the punishment the Attor was inflicting on the poor faeries Amarantha had singled out this evening. Alive, alive, alive a steady chant in my blood as the night wore on.

Alive.

---------------------------------------------------------

“Well, Feyre, your second trial has come.” I heard Amarantha smugly announce from her throne at the front of the room. A gnawing dread had been pooling in my gut for the last hour. I could only guess at what new horror she had in store for the girl, but I grew increasingly anxious when I did not see Lucien amongst the revelers. He tended to lurk in the shadows of the room, one eye on Tamlin, ever the loyal sentry. I couldn’t help the low snarl that escaped me at the thought. That Lucien was willing to risk his own life for the Spring Court brute. The faerie next to me skittered away at the sound.

I slowly made my way towards the gathered crowd. Faeries averted their eyes as I passed. It was a relief that I still commanded a modicum of fear from these leeches. Their fear of me was a weapon I wielded frequently.

Amarantha sat proudly on her throne. The Attor at her left, Tamlin braced stiffly behind her on her right. 

“Here, Feyre darling, you shall find your task. Simply answer the question by selecting the correct lever, and you’ll win. Select the wrong one to your doom. As there are only three options, I think I have given you an unfair advantage.” Something metallic groaned at the snap of her fingers. “That is,” she added with a snake-like smile, “if you can solve the puzzle in time.”

I had just gotten a glimpse of the girl when the floor where she was standing began to sink down, revealing a small chamber split in two by a metal grate.

I went rigid as I beheld the figure chained to the floor, previously hidden from view. A loud roaring began building in my head. My skin felt tight and hot as I saw that it was Lucien–Lucien, who would again be part of the night’s entertainment. Lucien wrenched at the chains binding him to the floor. I nearly puked on the throne room floor at the sight of it.

Only the many years of practice in my long immortal life stopped the cry of anguish from escaping me as burning spikes began to slowly lower towards Lucien from above. I was a fool. A wretched fool to think Amarantha was done torturing him. That she would not use his friendship with the girl again and again until she finally broke, or was dead, Lucien along with her. I made to take a step forward but then jerked to a stop. Nothing. There was nothing I could do to stop this without damning us both further. I would be forced to watch in silent agony as Lucien was slowly and painfully crushed under the weight of those red-hot spikes. 

I stared and stared at Lucien, only vaguely aware of the girl flailing and panicking in the chamber next to him. This was some new level of hell. My nightmare brought to life, one that I could not wake myself up from. 

“Answer it!” Lucien shouted, his voice hitched. My eyes burned, and I felt a cold drop of sweat begin to drip down my spine. Only sheer force of will kept the practiced smirk on my lips. The spikes lowered further.

“Just pick one!” Lucien shouted. He strained against the chains, panting frantically, eyes wide.

My brothers around me laughed gleefully, and I forced myself to join in, the sound a pitiful rasp in my ears. I was grateful that the crowd around me was thoroughly distracted by the horror unfolding before us. That they could not hear my pounding heart or the screaming inside my head as those molten spikes lowered another inch closer to Lucien’s body, helplessly chained to the floor. This was the true torture. Not the painful lashes I’d so often received from my father for disappointing him in one way or another. Not the loneliness and fear that threatened to crush me after so many years navigating the snake pit of my father’s court. But this. Forced to stand idly by as my loved ones were killed. Forced to hear the fear in Lucien’s voice as he begged the girl to just pick a lever and be unable to stop any of it.

“Feyre, please!” Lucien moaned. The terror in his voice nearly brought me to my knees. And yet I stood there like a statue. Maybe this was my punishment for being so useless. So worthless. I desperately wished I could take Lucien’s place. That it was me chained to the floor. I deserved it.

I held my breath and shut my eyes as the girl finally reached for the third lever, bracing myself for what was surely to come. 

Silence. Then–a sigh. From Lucien. 

I opened my eyes at the sound and choked down the sob building in my chest. The girl, Feyre, had actually done it. By dumb luck or fate, she had saved them both.

I did not stay to witness Amarantha’s reaction to the girl besting her once more. Could not stand to be there a minute longer. I turned, not seeing any of the faces around me, desperate to escape the swirl of both panic and relief pressing in on me, threatening to swallow me whole. I could not fall apart, not here.

I stumbled away to the back of the throne room and kept walking until I was alone in a darkened passageway, the sounds of jeering and wicked laughter slowly disappearing. I leaned heavily against the nearest wall and emptied the contents of my stomach onto the floor. My eyes and throat burned and I let out the broken sob I had been holding in. I would allow myself one minute to fall apart, away from prying eyes. Just one minute, and then I would return to join in the merriment of those who had cheered as my brother had nearly been killed again.

I breathed in the damp, cold air of the mountain, my body shaking silently as I sunk to my knees. I listened to the drip, drip, drip of water on the stone floor and used it to slow my quaking heart. When the minute was up, I stood. Tunneled deep down inside until I could barely feel the rage and sorrow. I brought the smirk back to my mouth–it was second nature after all these years. I took one last deep breath, and turned back the way I had come. I had been gone too long, and these caves had eyes and ears that were always watching, always listening–always reporting back to her. And though Autumn Court fire burned in my veins, I forced my heart to freeze over, as cold as Kallias’s ice. I let that ice flow through me as I walked back–as I blocked out the despair that fought to drown me with every step I took. Until I was no one, and nothing. 

---------------------------------------------------------

A small part of me was aware that I was in shock. I drifted through the following day as if underwater, not fully hearing the words spoken to me or how I responded. Through it all, I made sure to keep the haughty mask on my face. Only when I spotted Lucien across the room did I feel as if I had come up briefly for air. Our eyes locked, and Lucien’s mouth tightened in displeasure. He held my gaze, emotion flickering in his right eye–there and then gone before I could decipher it. After a beat he looked away and was promptly swallowed up by the crowd.

I knew Lucien despised me. It was written on his face whenever he deigned to look me in the eyes, and I let him believe I felt the same. As much as it pained me to do so, I treated him as if he were nothing to me, no more than trash to be discarded. I hated myself more with each passing day–was at risk of being consumed by it entirely and slipping deep into the burning pit of fire within me. It was sheer defiance against the bitch queen that prevented me from doing so. The hope that I might one day see Autumn again. So many years trapped down in the dark were wearing heavy on my soul. The steady fear that I would fail those I sought to protect slowly ate away at me. What I’d give to breathe in the crisp, cool air of home, to walk amongst the red and gold leaves that sparkled like jewels in the dawn light. I held on to the hope that I would one day return. Tucked it deep down inside where it flickered softly, the aching pain in my heart its only companion.

#eris vanserra #pro eris vanserra #Eris #Lucien #pro Lucien #pro Eris #pro lucien vanserra #under the mountain #amarantha #Feyre #sarah j maas #acowar #acomaf #acotar #a court of wings and ruin #a court of mist and fury #acosf #fan fiction #writing #my fic #Eris pov #eris fanfic #elucien #eris acotar #lucien acotar #Eris oneshot #Eris one-shot #lucien vanserra #vanserra brothers #soft Eris Vanserra

[ataraxiasflame]

Coming up with two Elucien fics for Elucien Week 2024 that have me so excited that I’m even planning on commissioning art for them. It’s going to be a great week!

#elucien #pro elucien #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #pro lucien vanserra #pro elain archeron #elucien supremacy #elucien fan fic rec #elucien fanfic #elucienweek #elucienweek2024

[shallyne]

Sunshine and Reunions

This plays in the same universe as Sunshine and Promises BUT it is a oneshot that can be read seperately. You do not have to read the other fic.

Words: 1,533

TW: none

Elain gets sick and Lucien comes over to keep her company

Elain was rarely sick. The last cold she had was years ago when she was still in High School and since then, she was extremely lucky to not get sick. Until she woke up this morning and felt like she got hit by a bus. Her head was pounding and her nose was stuffy and her coughs made her wish she was dead. Well, not dead but a little less conscious because everytime she coughed, or sneezed, it felt like her head would just burst. Because she never got sick, she didn't have any medicine at home, which meant she would have to get up and go to a pharmacy. Now. But she couldn't get herself to leave her bed, not even to make herself tea.

Elain groaned into her pillow when her phone rang and she was tempted to just leave it ringing but she picked it up and looked at the display. Lucien Vanserra. Her Co-Worker.

Sighing, she picked up. "Hello?" she sniffed.

"You called in sick?" he asked immediately without greeting her.

"Yes." she replied, already exhausted from holding that damn phone.

"Why?"

"Because I'm sick." she answered.

"You're never sick." he countered as if it never crossed his mind that Elain could get a cold. She could also make out a hint of concern but she probably imagined that in her state.

"Trust me, I wish I would have lied but I really am. Thanks for your concern but I have to hang up now." Elain said, her voice cracking. "Goodbye." She hung up and threw her phone in the drawer of her night stand. When she settled back into her pillows, guilt overcame her. Of course she didn't blame Lucien for being curious, it was a well known fact how rarely Elain called in sick for work and she never intended to talk so unpleasant to him.

Yes, Elain owed him an apology but only after her nap. Everything had to wait until she woke up again.

Which was about three hours later when a loud knock pulled her out of a nightmare where her garden was on fire. Groaning she slipped on a dressing gown, heart still pounding from her dream and dizzy from her cold she walked to the front door. A knock sounded again. "I'm coming!" she snapped and opened the door with more vigor than she had anticipated, just to look into Lucien's russet eye. He held a brown paper bag, filled with whatever, Elain didn't know. She could just see something pink peeking out. He still wore his office attire, surprisingly. She knew that Lucien hated his attire and that the first thing he did after coming home was slipping Into something more comfortable.

"I brought you some medicine." Lucien interrupted her thoughts and plastered a smile on his face. "I thought you might be in need of this. I also got chicken soup. It doesn't compete with your own cooking of course, but it's alright."

Elain nodded, speechless. She hadn't expected Lucien to come over, she hadn't expected him to care. Yes, they talked a lot during their working hours but Elain always assumed he asked her all kinds of questions to keep up the small talk and because he was genuinely interested. She shook her head and stepped aside, "Come in."

Lucien nodded in thanks and as he stepped in her apartment, he quickly looked around and then went to the open kitchen to their right and placed the bag on the kitchen counter.

"Sit." he said, pointing to her couch. Elain did, without saying a word, smoothing her hair in the meantime. She must look terrible, she just woke up after all. Elain probably looked like she just fought a racoon.

A ripping sound came from the kitchen and then Lucien walked towards her. He put the medicine on the coffee table in front of them. It turned out the pink Elain had spotted was a very fluffy blanket that he now wrapped around her. "Is that okay?"

"Yes." Elain answered, smiling. She watched him as he went back to the kitchen and brewed her tea. As Lucien waited for the water to boil, he loosened his tie and rolled his sleeves up to his elbow, showing his muscular forearm. His long, red hair was up in a ponytail and as he maneuvered himself through Elain’s kitchen, she looked at him in a wholly different light. At work he was just Lucien, she hadn't paid him a second glance while they just did their work or had smalltalk but now he was….attractive. Elain was glad for the sneeze that was coming, able to hide her blushing face but Lucien didn't miss a beat.

"What?" he asked as he looked back.

Elain quickly shook her head, her hair, still not brushed and wild as ever, flew in her face. With a sigh she brushed the few lingering strands away and said "Nothing. I was just…thinking." she wouldn't say she was a bad liar, not at all, but she really disliked doing it so she'd rather tell the truth but keep it vague. Lucien apparently wasn't one to accept vague answers.

"What about?"

So Elain told him a half-truth, much more personal but at least she can ignore this new, weird feeling when she looked at Lucien. "I am thinking a lot about my sister lately." Not a lie at all, she was thinking a lot about Feyre lately, it just wasn't the truth he implied.

"Nesta?" he asked. Elain looked at him, surprised. Lucien had remembered her sister's name.

She shook her head, "No, Feyre." she explained. "I am in contact with Nesta," rarely "but not with Feyre. I mean we aren't fully no contact, we text each other in holidays on birthdays but just generic stuff that everyone texts each other on these days." Elain shrugged, biting on her thumbnail. "I don't know, I miss her."

Lucien picked up a steaming bowl and cup and bought it over to Elain, putting it down on the table in front of her. She thanked him as she took the cup of tea and took her first tea.

"You should call her." Lucien said, perching in the arm roll of the couch.

Elain craned her neck to look up at him, "You really think so?"

Lucien extended his hand, as if he would take a curl of Elain’s untamed mane and wrap it around his finger but changing his mind in the last second and dropping his hand. "Yes, I think so. You miss her, so why not?"

"I'm scared she doesn't want any contact."

Lucien sighed, smiling at her. Not a condescending smile, but an understanding one. "Then you tried."

They looked into each other's eyes for a moment until Elain looked away and took the bowl of soup. "You're right." she said.

That was it about that topic. They kept having some smalltalk about work before Lucien had to get back to work, but he repeatedly told her that she can call him if she needs anything. Elain almost had to drag him out of the apartment so he wouldn't be late.

The rest of the day, Elain watched movies and did some work that she could do from home, her eyes always wandering to her phone until she grabs it around seven in the evening, and dialed Feyres number. Her heart squeezed painfully when she heard her sister's raw voice at the end of the line. "Hey Elain."

It was half past five and Lucien should already be home. Maybe he was grocery shopping or visiting a friend or working later, but Elain felt nervous. She sat on the steps at his apartment complex, a bouquet of flowers balancing on her legs. Maybe she shouldn't have taken the bouquet with her but she made it herself and felt, well, right.

She jumped when his car turned into the parking lot and watched him as he gathered his things and left his car. He immediately smiled when he spotted Elain. Lucien had that kind of smile that lit up a whole room. Lucien felt like a ray of sunshine after a storm.

"Elain," he said. "What are you doing here? Not that I'm disappointed, I'm just surprised."

Elain offered him the bouquet of flowers, "This is for you."

He smiled as he accepted them, but his expression turned confused, "What's the occasion?"

"It's a thank you," Elain explained. "For encouraging me to call my sister." she played with the hem of her floral blouse, "It turns out she's pregnant! I'm going to be an aunt."

"Wow!" Lucien said. "That's…congratulations!"

"Thank you." she said. "She just started announcing her pregnancy."

Lucien looked at her, understanding filling his features, the relief that was clearly written on Elain’s face. She wouldn't know how she would have reacted if Feyre wouldn't have told her at all, it just turned out Elain was quicker with contacting her. Although she felt bad for even questioning her about this. Before they all followed their own paths and went to college, Feyre was the glue that kept the family together. Maybe it was time to give something back.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #elucien #lucien vanserra #lucien acotar #lucien and elain #elain acotar #elain kingslayer #elain archeron #Elain #Lucien #lucien x elain #acotar fanfiction #acotar fan fiction #acotar fanfic #acotar fic #Acotar oneshot #elucien fanfic #Elucien fanfiction #elucien fic

[zenkindoflove]

Kneel Before Me - Elucien Oneshot

Title: Kneel Before Me

Relationship: Elain x Lucien; Elucien

Rating: E, NSFW

Status: One-shot, ~11,000 words

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

READ ON AO3

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

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

Sneak peak under the cut

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[the-lonelybarricade]

LB my dear dear! I have devoured all yours and MB's ao3 works till date ❤️🤌 and I am feeling pathetically ravenous for more 🫠. Although my question is- since I have seen people asking you for suggestions as to which blog and which writer to look to for more feysand/elucien content I would like to request the same only and only if you are comfortable and have the time for this pressing request. And thank you even if you couldn't for some reason im only scared since you are busy and wouldnt want to burden you with such an exigent task. . I'm sorry to bother you That would be it 🥺 👉👈

You want blog suggestions for Elucien/Feysand authors? And you think you're bothering me??? Anon, this happens to be my exact area of exertise and there is nothing love more than hyping up my friends!

To kick us off my lovely friend @velidewrites is an extraordinarily talented writer and artist, and also just an all-around ray of sunshine whose blog I cannot recommend enough.

There's also @writtenonreceipts who's every work is literal potery. Pick any of her stroies and you will come undone.

@belabellissima has a beautiful Feysand/Elucien series called the State of Grace and is also one of my favorite people 🥺💝

@azrielshadowssing also regularly feeds us with delciioiusly sinful Feysand and Elucien stories 🥰 hehehe definitely read the tags though!

Among a host of other incredible fics, @damedechance has an onlyfans series that will make you feral - Playgirl (Elucien) and darling.exe (Feysand) 👀👀 Come back to me once you finish losing your mind

@xtaketwox and @itsthedoodle come as Feysand/Elucien pair hehe. @xtaketwox has treated us to lots of goodies, but I wanted to highlight her modern soulmate AU which has a dedicated work for Feysand, Elucien, and Nessian! @itsthedoodle has written so many beautiful feysand oneshots and is the sweetest, most unhinged person you'll ever have the pleasure of knowing.

@asnowfern is so talented and writes for a lot of different pairings, including Feysand and Elucien! Right now she's working on a stunning Feysand AU inspired by a chinese legend called Till Forever Falls Apart

if you're a fan of next-gen, @areyoudreaminof has lots of adorable fics and headcanons centering around Elucien and Feysand as parents!

@witch-and-her-witcher again writes for many couples, including Feysand and Elucien! She recently wrote a Feysand and Nyx oneshot, The Little Tiger, that completely fractured my heart and put it back together.

@thegloweringcastle is another extremely talented writer who has a wealth of feysand and elucien fics! One I really love is the The Law of the Land which is a Feysand western AU with background Elucien 🤠

@darling-archeron has been in this fandom since 2016 and in that time has blessed us with so much wonderful Feysand and Elucien content!! (One day you really need to sit us all down and tell us the fandom lore we all missed out on from the acomaf/acowar releases 👀)

@iambutmortal has a lot of delicious Feysand and Elucien stories! For Elucienweek last year she wrote a really addicting story called The Honeymooners

@labellefleur-sauvage has written so many incredible Elucien fics! As well as a very delicious monster!Feyre fic called Meet Me In the Woods hehehe 👀

@foundress0fnothing always blows me away with her writing. For Elucienweek last year she wrote an Elucien sex cult fic titled Both Forever and Rather Die that lives in my head rent free.

@howlingcaptaincommando is working on a really amazing pirate AU, Never Shall I Die, centering around Elucien, Nessian, and Feysand!

@vulpes-fennec has so many lovely stories, including her Prythian Fantasia WIP which centers on the Archeron sisters and their mates 😍

@popjunkie42 has yet to dip her toes into writing Elucien but maybe one day we can convince her 👀👀 That said she has so many amazing Feysand works such as Hate Me Instead and her current WIP Blossoming In Winter.

Likewise my dearest friend @wilde-knight has only written Elucien and Nessian, but I can't recommend her works and blog enough!! She's working on an amazing Princess Bride AU called Burnished Gold

@captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship is a die-hard Feysand, Elucien, Gwynriel, and Nessian! Currently they're working on a Feysand fic Five Minutes to Midnight which also features background Elucien!

@octobers-veryown creates so many wonderful moodboards for variuos ships and characters! I cannot recommend following them enough💕

And finally @rosanna-writer, @reverie-tales, @thesistersarcheron, and @starfall-spirit are my multishipping queens 🥰 On their blogs you'll find wonderful content for Feysand, Elriel, Elucien, and other ships as well!

#Oh god if I'm missing someone I'm so sorry #I got distracted so many times while making this #And now I'm just ready to yeet this task into the sun lmaooo #fic recs #elucien fic #feysand fic #elucien #feysand

[arson-09]

obviously the main focus of my fic is Tamlin, the spring court, and the characters i have there but the more i think the more i want to add the background chaos of elucien and honestly neris. Ive grown to be quite the elucien fan and i cant fucking stand nessian and i need my girl nesta back so what if while tamlin and co are sitting and having breakfast together and reading out the gossip from prythian and its just “lucien and elain are visiting the day court and having a great time!” and “nesta has reappeared after months in the autumn court and she may have had a hand in eris becoming high lord” idk im already going nuts with MY fic what if. what if.

#pro tamlin #pro elucien #pro neris #i know it wont happen in canon but neris is such an interesting ship. #like i cant stand cassian and how the whole ic just bullied nesta into ‘getting better’ #sjm wrote a character then made the character out if character y know #i know nesta better than sjm i swear

[shadybirdwombat]

I used to be an elriel. Now elucien. Hopefully, Sarah gives us them. I used to believe Az was the best fit Elain. He has problems,he needs to work out. Elain is going to travel. I've read fan fic about Az and Elain. They're some okay ones. Though everyone is bdsm and all about sex. Which isn't sjm entire books. They're not haunting Adeline. Elain needs to explore her powers. Azriel already said she shouldn't be exposed to darkness. He pinned after mor for centuries. Rhys was right. He loves elain as a sis. He saw what Grayson did to her. He defended her. He loves Az. Though he knows Azriel needs to get his self together. Gwyn helped nesta. Also don't put Elain and gwyn again each other. Imagine gwyn being the one to help Elain find precious books. Vassa and lucien no. Maybe Elain and Lucien are more concerned about koschei than anything else. I feel Azriel will be taken over by koschei. Gwyn will save him with her light singer powers. Elain says we are going to have a war unlike any other war. The valg, asteri, and daglan.

#elain archeron #lucien vanserra #acotar series #pro lucien vanserra #anti e/riel #pro elucien #gwyneth berdara #azriel acotar

[theshadowsingersraven]

Anyway, since these are my favorite tags and things have been more active with CC3 BCs getting discussed, feels like the time & place to bump that I updated my fic earlier tonight. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

What’s on the menu with A Court of Storms and Ravens?

Az/OC Slowburn- Grown, 200-year-old elven FMC who is her own fully realized female with accomplishments, skills, and magical capabilities. 

In-depth Azriel POV

Long overdue Lucien appreciation

Hard degradation of E/riel (necessary confrontations and whatnot)

Caroline Forbes/Nesta style development for Elain (starting out low, and then getting significantly better/growing/healing)

Elucien development & romance

Gywnriel friendship

Full continuation of ACOSF, but without CC crossover (while including any development for the ACOTAR cast displayed in CC)

As well as several appearances and easter eggs for D&D and/or Critical Role/TLOVM fans.

#anti e/riel #antielriel #elucien #pro elucien #pro lucien vanserra #lucien vanserra #pro gwyneth berdara #azriel x oc

[melting-houses-of-gold]

It’s my ✨birthday✨ today! Give me a gift by reading these incredible fics:

These are all fics that live in my head RENT-FREE. I am never not thinking about them, they are all so incredible, and each author deserves a smooch and all the love. These are all in no particular order.

Star Wars🌟

I lied when I said I didn’t need you by @jewelofmandalore

A rexsoka GFFA college AU that has exquisite dynamics. I am feral for this story, and I’m sure you will be, too!

Death & Tax Schemes by @armchairaloof

This fic has everything: A very satisfying Palpatine death, insurance fraud, text messages, Anakin Skywalker enthusiastic emoji-er, and ROMANCE. I couldn’t ask for more in a fic.

They didn’t prepare him for this on Kamino by @darthgoosegoose

This is a work-in-progress fic I didn’t know I needed, and I am absolutely normal about and super chill over. By including it on this list, I am absolutely not attempting to seduce every person I know into reading it. Warning: you may become VERY attached to Truffles the emotional support bantha and Sith Ahsoka.

Sharp and Glorious Thorn by @chocmarss

Enemies to lovers? Marriage of convenience? Medieval setting? ALL OF MY FAVORITE THINGS. And there’s FANTASTIC art.

ACOTAR🌹

Remember, we’re madly in love by @velidewrites

Calling this a Feysand Hunger Games AU doesn’t even start to scratch the surface. Everyone in this WIP is so sexy and unhinged, and Velide’s brain is magical.

Playgirl by @damedechance

This fic cleared my pores, brightened my skin, and added years to my life. I DID NOT KNOW I NEEDED AN ONLY FANS ELUCIEN, but god it’s so sexy. 1,000/10, would recommend. 

No gods, no religion by @separatist-apologist

This is cheating maybe because it’s ACOTAR and it’s Star Wars, but MB’s Star Wars elucien is UNMATCHED. (Everything she writes is magic, and her brain is so wet.)​

#fic rec #all of my mutuals are SO talented #and all of these fics are *chef’s kiss*

[kingofsummer93]

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 16: The Second Trial

Ao3 Masterlist

** a/n- I'm setting up a tag list, please let me know if you'd like to be added/ removed for this fic, Elucien fics specifically or all fics!

Lucien hovered outside the portrait of the Fat Lady, straining his ears to hear the commotion inside the Gryffindor common room. The dungbombs planted by his friends seemed to be doing the trick, judging from the sound of students scrambling towards the staircases on either side of the circular room, cursing loudly.

The Fat Lady gave him a stern look, unimpressed. “What have you done this time?” she asked drily, rearranging the folds of her frilly pink gown.

Lucien gave her a mock-hurt look. “You wound me. Why would you assume I have anything to do with whatever is happening in there?”

The Fat Lady’s friend Violet giggled into her glass of sherry. Lucien sent her a wink as the Fat Lady continued to stare at him sternly. “Well? Are you going to stand out here all night, then? Some of us have better things to do, you know.”

“But I thought it was your duty to guard us valiant Gryffindors, my lady?”

She scoffed at him, though he could have sworn her plump cheeks deepened to match the color of her dress. “Password?”

Lucien pressed his ear close to the edge of the painting, listening for noise on the other side. Violet giggled again, covering her mouth with a lacy fan. The common room was silent.

“Giggling Gum Drops,” he declared, bowing at the waist.

The Fat Lady rolled her eyes but waved a hand. “Very well,” she drawled, and with that the portrait swung open, revealing the entrance to the Gryffindor common room.

The room was indeed deserted, though a thick, foul mist still hung in the air. Lucien coughed, his eyes immediately watering from the toxic vapors. A clock on the wall struck midnight, and he hurried to the fireplace in the corner of the room, dropping to his knees to stare into the flames. They had burned down to embers, and after a few minutes Lucien began to worry. It wasn’t like Eris to suggest such a clandestine meeting- normally he would have sent an owl or asked to meet him in Hogsmeade. Whatever it was that his brother wanted to talk to him about, he didn’t want the conversation overheard.

The dying embers suddenly came to life, burning red and orange for a moment before turning a bright emerald green. A split-second later Eris’ face appeared in the flames, looking more stressed than Lucien had ever seen him.

“Have you lost your mind?” his brother declared by way of greeting.

“Hello to you too, brother.”

“Please tell me I misunderstood and that you did not send me an owl requesting that I sneak you into the Department of Mysteries?”

His brother’s tone was devoid of its usual lazy humor, and Lucien felt a twinge of guilt. “I didn’t send you an owl asking you to sneak me into the Department of Mysteries?”

Eris sighed, making the emerald flames flicker. “Lucien, I’m serious. You can’t write things like that down, much less send them out by owl. Andras is super recognizable, if anyone intercepted him…”

“Why would someone intercept my owl?” Lucien asked sharply.

Eris winced, as if he had let something slip. “Weird shit is happening at the Ministry, Lucien. People are on their guard. Tense.”

“What do you mean, weird shit is happening?” He remembered what Eris had told him about Mr Koschei going missing. “Has Koschei still not been found?”

Eris shook his head. His mouth was set in a thin line. “He hasn’t. It’s the weirdest thing. I know he’s a mean motherfucker, but you don’t become the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement by twirling your thumbs. Koschei is an incredibly powerful wizard. People like that don’t just vanish. Magic leaves a trace, especially strong magic.”

Lucien’s stomach twisted. “What’s the ministry doing about it?” The ministry being code for our loving father.

“Father’s put out a statement claiming that Koschei took a leave of absence. Bullshit, of course. Even our top Aurors haven’t heard from him.”

“And people believe it?” Lucien asked, incredulous.

“I sure as shit don’t. Most of the ministry seems content to go along with it but a lot of people are starting to get suspicious.”

“But Koschei’s always been such a huge supporter of dad.” The word tasted like bile on his tongue. “Hasn’t he? If something actually happened to him you’d think the whole ministry would be in a frenzy to try to find him.”

“Precisely,” Eris simply. “Except…”

“Except what?”

Eris sighed, running a hand through his short hair, the motion making it stand on end. “I really shouldn’t be telling you this.”

“Eris!”

“There’s been rumors, all right? That maybe Koschei and dad haven’t been seeing eye-to-eye lately.”

“About what?” Lucien demanded.

“I have no idea. I only know because my friend from the Department of Mysteries heard them arguing a few times, and she- get that look off your face, Lucien!”

“But-“

“Lucien,” Eris snapped. “Listen to me. Those giants you saw? There is no record of their movements around Britain. None. Nothing.”

Lucien was so stunned that for a moment he couldn’t speak. “What does that mean?”

“It means that the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures has no idea that they’re there.”

A chill went down Lucien’s spine. “But- we saw them. The others saw them too, they can tell you-“

Eris raised a hand to shush him. “I believe you, Lucien. Merlin, I don’t know why you’d make something like that up.”

“It doesn’t make sense. There’s no way that many giants would go unnoticed.”

“And there’s no way our esteemed father wouldn’t keep track of them,” Eris continued, voicing exactly what Lucien had been thinking.

Their father, who forced every werewolf, vampire, harpy, house elf, goblin, and anyone else who wasn’t completely human to register with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, would very much care about a whole village of giants setting up camp near Hogwarts.

“But…Elain said Professor Spell-Cleaver didn’t seem that concerned. How could the ministry not know if he does?” It didn’t make sense. None of this made any sense.

Eris shook his head again. “Your guess is as good as mine. Although…”

“What?”

“Well, you know how Hogwarts is spelled to be unplottable?”

Lucien recoiled from the fire. “You can’t actually think-“

“It would explain why nobody has heard or seen them, even though they’re…well, you know. Not quite inconspicuous.”

“But why?”

“That I can’t answer. And before you ask, no, they’re not part of the other Trials.”

“Well, thank fuck for that, at least.”

“And speaking of the Trial,” Eris continued. Lucien braced himself for more bad news. “Since Koschei’s gone MIA a lot of people have been suggesting we postpone it.”

“Really?”

“People are saying it’s not right to keep going, seeing as how his department organized so much of it. But you’ll never guess who shut down that talk as soon as it began.”

“I’m guessing it wasn’t you?”

Eris smiled grimly, though it looked more like a grimace. “Our father insisted that the Tournament keep going. He was quite livid that people were even thinking of shutting it down.”

Lucien blinked in surprise. “What? What does he care? He didn’t even come to watch the first Trial.”

“Exactly. I don’t think he actually cares at all.”

“Then why-”

“I don’t know. But if you ask me, all this weird shit is not a coincidence. And it’s not a coincidence that a lot of people and resources are currently focused on Hogwarts and the tournament.”

“Meaning…meaning that people are distracted.” Eris’ meaning dawned on him with horrible clarity. “You think dad is up to something.”

Eris glanced over his shoulder quickly, as if making sure that nobody was standing behind him. “Shh! You need to be more careful about saying things like that, Lucien. You need to be careful, period. Stay close to the school, don’t leave the grounds. Whatever those giants are doing there, it’s not just an innocent vacation.”

“Got it,” Lucien said drily. “Sit on my ass and don’t get in trouble while the adults sort it out.”

“Don’t be a git. You know what I mean. Which reminds me- what possible reason could you have for wanting to break into the Department of Mysteries? Nobody even knows what the hell is down there.”

This time it was Lucien who looked over his shoulder to make sure the common room was still empty. “I hope you’re not in a rush.”

Eris stayed uncharacteristically quiet, though his frown deepened the further Lucien got into his explanation. By the time he got to the missing prophecy his brother was rubbing his forehead as though to ease a growing headache.

“So let me get this straight,” he started. “You’re telling me that not only is there a top-secret room beneath the Ministry filled with thousands of prophecies, but Elain would like my help to somehow break into this top-secret place?”

“That’s about it, yes,” Lucien replied with more confidence than he actually felt.

Eris pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You said it yourself,” Lucien soldiered on. “All this weird stuff happening all of a sudden? What are the chances this is completely unrelated?” Even though he desperately wished that it was, and that Elain had no involvement in whatever was brewing. “Elain was attacked during the first Trial, Eris! What if whoever stole that prophecy tries again during the second Trial?”

“They won’t,” Eris said darkly. “Not while I’m watching. I’ll see what I can do about bringing in some extra security. There will be eyes on her- on all of you, at all times.”

“Thanks, Eris,” Lucien said gratefully. “I’m starting to question this whole Tournament, to be honest. It was all fun and games, but…”

“But now not so much. I’ll be at Hogwarts in a few weeks for the second Trial, all right? We’ll talk more then. In the meantime I can ask my friend what she knows about the prophecies. But don’t get your hopes up, I doubt she’ll tell me anything.”

“Anything she knows would be helpful. Elain’s really freaked out by the whole thing. With good reason, obviously.” Lucien swallowed thickly. “I just wish there was more I could do to help her.”

“We will help her,” Eris declared in that tone that left no room for argument. “I can’t believe she’s a seer.”

“Just don’t bring her name up when you start asking questions, alright? She doesn’t want people to know.”

Eris gave him a pointed look. “You think I suddenly forgot how to keep a secret?”

Lucien huffed a laugh. “Touché.”

“Speaking of gossips.” Eris grimaced. “You’re not going to like Koschei’s replacement for the panel of judges.”

“What do you mean?” He’d assumed it would be someone from Koschei’s department at the ministry, or another department head.

Eris winced again, but before he could answer there was a scuffling noise behind Lucien. He tensed, whirling towards the doors leading to the dormitories. “Someone’s coming down the stairs,” he whispered.

When he turned back to the fire Eris had already disappeared, the flames back to a merry red.

Lucien barely had time to scramble to his feet before the door to the girls’ dormitory creaked open. Feyre stepped into the glow of the fireplace, her eyes narrowed at him suspiciously.

“What are you doing down here?”

“Prefect rounds,” he lied smoothly, walking to the stairs on the other side of the room.

“I heard voices,” she pressed, looking around the deserted room.

Shit. If she had heard even a fraction of that conversation… “This castle is haunted, you know.”

She rolled her eyes, reminding him so strongly of Elain that he grinned.

“You’ve become even more smug since you started dating my sister, you know that?” She walked to a table near the window and rifled through a pile of discarded homework.

“Just as you like me, right?”

Feyre huffed a laugh and disappeared back up the stairs. “Good night!”

Lucien’s nerves did not settle long after he had made it upstairs to his four-poster bed. His dreams that night were full of giants, and secret underground vaults, and Elain’s eyes, milky-white and all-seeing.

---

Lucien wiped the rain from his eyes, glancing once again at the giant red countdown floating in the grey sky above him. His stomach lurched with a jolt of panic-induced adrenaline. Thirty-five minutes left- almost half his time was already gone.

There was a sudden flurry of noise and movement from the crowd as the assembled students erupted in cheers and applause. Shit. Had another champion already finished the task? It seemed almost impossible, but with the high hedges blocking everything but the path in front of him, it was impossible to know.

Lucien had almost had a heart attack when Professor Amren had escorted him to the Quidditch pitch for the second Trial. His beloved field was unrecognizable, turned into some sort of giant maze, with hedges so tall they almost reached the bottom of the Quidditch stands.

“What have they done?!” he had demanded, gaping at the field in horror. “We have a match in two weeks!”

“Well then I guess it’s a good thing Quidditch is played on brooms,” Nesta had piped up drily behind him.

Any thoughts of Quidditch, however, had quickly vanished upon entering the maze. The second Trial was simple- each champion entered from a different corner, staggered according to their current rankings. They had an hour to reach the center of the maze, or risk getting disqualified from the Trial.

It seemed deceptively simple, and might even have sounded fun, were it not for Eris’ warning still marinating at the forefront of his mind. That, and the icy, unrelenting rain currently chilling him to the bone. As if on cue the sky opened up with a flash of lightning, illuminating the path in front of him. He had reached a fork in the maze, both paths stretching out into pure darkness in front of him.

Lucien squinted into the dark, trying to make out anything except the dense hedges. The rain combined with the shadows cast by the maze made it impossible to see anything. It was eerily similar to walking into the Forbidden Forest to retrieve that unicorn hair.

Something moved in the path to his left, nothing more than a shifting of shadows. Lucien took an involuntary step back as the hair rose on the back of his neck at whatever dwelled in those shadows.

After a beat of hesitation he laid his wand flat on his palm and muttered a four-point spell. The wand spun in his hand and then froze, pointing to the path heading right. North. To reach the center of the maze he would have to take the path to the left.

The shadows shifted again, followed by a slithering, hissing sound. Lucien turned on his heel and hurried towards the path on the right. He’d just have to double back at the next fork.

Another glance at the flashing numbers in the sky told him he had just passed the halfway mark. He quickened his step, holding his wand’s thin beam of light higher above his head. He was just considering calling his patronus to light his way when a scream, high pitched and petrified, ripped through the dark. Lucien froze, heart pounding, straining his ears to find the direction of the scream.

This was not the Forbidden Forest, he reminded himself. The champions were in plain view of the packed stands filled with students and teachers. And besides, Eris had promised to keep an eye on Elain.

Still, he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe as that scream echoed around in his mind. And then echoed through the maze again, somewhere to his left.

Lucien didn’t hesitate before lifting his wand and pointing it to the hedge blocking his path. “INCENDIO!”

Fire erupted from his wand, burning a hole clean through the dense mass of branches. He didn’t stop to consider whether this would be considered cheating before leaping through the singed hole in the hedge and tumbling into the path. There were more shouts coming from the stands now, but whether they were in dismay or excitement, Lucien couldn’t tell.

He took off at a run, his senses focused only on that echoing scream. His surroundings melted away, so much so that when something wrapped tightly around his middle it took him a few beats to realize he was no longer moving.

Whatever was wrapped around his middle spread to his legs, stilling him mid-step. Lucien thrashed, fighting against the tightening hold around him. Something was wrapping itself around him- something slick and damp, thick and powerful. For a wild moment he thought it was snakes, but then he registered the bark under his fingers, the wet, earthy smell wrapping around him. He was being crushed by vines.

His already racing heart doubled in intensity as he bucked and pushed against the vines, but the more he fought, the tighter they wrapped around him. A thick branch slithered around his arms, pinning them to his sides.

He had dropped his wand in surprise, and it lay at his feet, useless. In his panic he forgot about the teachers and ministry members surely watching him get attacked- he forgot about the tournament, and the students groaning in sympathy at his plight. He could think only of Elain, screaming in fright in the distance as he failed to reach her. A million scenarios flashed through his mind, each one more outlandish and unlikely than the last.

Death by botany, he thought with a jolt of panicked-induced hilarity. Elain would have known how to get out of this trap, she would haven’t gotten trapped in the first place, she would have, she would have…

“Relax!” A voice cut through the blood pounding in his ears. A voice he would have recognized through any darkness. Lucien thrashed again, only for a vine to wrap itself around his face, smothering him.

“Relax, Lucien!” Elain cried again. “You have to calm down. If you fight back you’ll only make it angrier.”

Easy for you to say, he thought grimly, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggled to breathe. A bright light cut through the mess of vines surrounding him like a cocoon, and Lucien squinted against the sudden brightness. Through his cage of vines he spotted a familiar four-legged form, prowling the path in front of him.

Moony. The patronus’ light seemed to pierce through the vines, straight to his heart. He forced himself to go still, to stop fighting against the vice around him. Immediately the vines froze, receding enough for him to gulp down a ragged breath.

“That’s it!” Elain urged. “Just relax. Think of something happy. Pretend you’re conjuring up a patronus.”

Lucien relaxed further, his muscles going limp until the vines were the only thing holding him upright. It felt unnatural, but with a lurch he realized the hold on him was receding. He closed his eyes, filling his mind with images of Elain’s twinkling brown eyes and rosy cheeks.

The vines receded at all once and Lucien fell to the ground in a heap. Elain and her patronus were on him in an instant, the wolf nuzzling at his legs while Elain cradled his face.

“Are you alright?!” she gasped, eyes wide with worry. “I thought that thing was going to squeeze you to death!”

“I’m alright,” Lucien said, his breathing still ragged. “Are you alright? You screamed, I couldn’t find you…”

Elain’s eyes glittered with amusement. “Oh, that wasn’t me, it was Nesta. I saw her in a bit of a tussle with some Blast-Ended Skrewts. She’s alright, through.”

Lucien sagged with relief. “Thank Merlin. I thought- I was so worried…”

I love you and I need you safe in my arms at all times.

The words were on the tip of his tongue, but the background noise of the chattering crowd brought him back to earth. Right. Not the time or place.

Elain squeezed his arm. “You’re cute. Although if I didn’t know better I might suspect you don’t think I can handle myself.”

Lucien huffed a rueful laugh as she helped him to his feet. “I thought every girl wanted a knight in shining armour?”

“A knight in shining armour, yes.” She looked him up and down, from his sodden hair flattened to his head, to his squelching shoes, and flashed a grin. “I’m not sure that you qualify right now, though.”

Lucien looked her over, his metal eye clicking as he checked for any sign of injury. To his relief she looked unharmed- and also, inexplicably, dry. He shivered violently as a gust of wind ripped through the maze.

“How…”

Elain held up a hand and waved her wand in an arc around him. Immediately he was wrapped in a bubble of blissfully warm air, the icy rain held at bay by invisible walls.

Lucien whistled in admiration. “Neat trick.”

“Who’s the damsel in distress now?” she asked with a smirk.

“Me,” he agreed. “Definitely me.”

“Come on,” she urged, grabbing his hand. “We don’t have much time left.”

Lucien glanced at the floating numbers in the sky. Twenty minutes. He retrieved his wand and hurried after her down the path, Moony trotting along on Elain’s other side.

“Do you think they’ll give me extra points for saving you?” she mused.

Lucien laughed, pulling her to a stop when they reached another fork in the road. “Maybe, but I’ll definitely get points for most entertaining.”

“What do you-“

She gasped as he wrapped an arm around her waist, tangling the other in her hair, and dipped her at the waist. Even in the gloom of the maze he could see her cheeks turning violently pink.

“Lucien!”

He cut her off with a kiss. The crowd erupted in violent cheers above them, and Elain’s lips curved into a smile. Lucien set her upright again, and didn’t give her a chance to say anything before turning towards the path on the left.

“See you on the other side, Archie!” he called over his shoulder. Her laughter echoed around the path long after he was enveloped in darkness once more.

The clock continued ticking down as he walked along the path, his way suspiciously clear of any obstacles. When he had fifteen minutes left he did another four-point spell and saw he was heading straight for the center of the maze. He broke into a jog, grinning as he spotted a shimmering light from around a bend in the path a few yards ahead. As he whirled around the corner he came to a sudden halt.

His path was blocked by a wall of fire. The flames stretched as high as the hedges, completely baring the path. They burned so hot that Lucien felt sweat prickle on his brow.

He pointed his wand to the flames, conjuring a stream of clear, cool water. “Aguamenti!”

The water hissed and turned to steam before it even touched the flames. He tried again, and again, and every time the water disappeared inches from the fire.

“Shit,” he swore.

He glanced at the sky and swore again. They barely had ten minutes left. It wasn’t enough time to turn back the way he came- it would take too long to double back and find another way. Besides, Lucien had a nagging feeling that the flames somehow formed a barrier around the center of the maze. He’d have to find another way through.

He moved to the hedges, wondering if he could somehow scale them and jump over the flames, when something caught his gaze. Pots and vials and bottles, sheltered from the rain in a little alcove in the hedge. Lucien crouched down and looked at the labels more closely. Potion-making ingredients. He glanced back at the flames.

“Shit,” he swore again. Another glance at the sky. “Merlin’s saggy tits!” He had exactly eight minutes to correctly mix a fire protection potion, or else find another way through the flames.

He dropped to his knees, wracking his brain for anything about potions related to fire, shielding, or any sort of protection. Suddenly he regretted all those naps he had taken at the back of Professor Hybern’s dungeon classroom. If he made it through this without getting disqualified he vowed to actually start paying attention.

The crowd roared, followed by the unmistakable sound of enchanted fireworks exploding in the sky above him. His stomach sank, until he glanced up and saw a yellow and black badger, made up of a thousand pinpricks of light. He grinned, momentarily distracted from his task. Elain had made it to the center of the maze, and from the sounds of it, she might have been the first one.

He turned back to the bottles and vials, scanning the labels hurriedly. Armadillo bile, sage, peacock feathers, salamander blood, crushed octopus, all useless. Mushrooms, leech juice- Lucien dropped the bottle of vile liquid. Hopeless. This was hopeless, maybe he’d have a better chance if he simply jumped through the flames and hoped someone would extinguish him on the other side…

Just as he was rolling up his sleeves something snagged in his memory. Potions lesson, he and his friends levitating bursting mushrooms under Professor Hybern’s desk and watching him rage as he looked around for the source of the stink. He turned back to the ingredients, scrambling through them, until- there. Tiny, thumbnail-sized mushrooms the color of dirt.

He dumped them out and crushed them into an empty vial with one hand, gagging at the immediate reek as he riffled through the other ingredients. The jar of salamander blood was warm under his fingers, and it hissed as he poured some out into the jar with his crushed mushrooms. Yes, that was it- bursting mushrooms, salamander blood, and…and…

Lucien raked a hand through his damp hair in frustration. There was something else, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember what it was.

With a jolt he remembered the unicorn hair in his pocket. Professor Hybern was always harping on about how dangerous substitutions were, and how disastrous the consequences could be if a recipe was tampered with. The only exceptions were a select few, incredibly powerful magical substances that could be used to override the lack of a certain ingredient.

Another glance at the countdown shimmering in the sky next to the Hufflepuff badger showed he had only four minutes left. It was now or never. And besides, there was no rule about correctly making his way through the flames.

Before he could think too much about it he dumped the shimmering silver hair into the bottle, muttered a quick freezing spell, and shook it, sending up a quick prayer to anyone who would listen. The bottle became cold in his hand, the liquid inside turning the bright blue of a winter sky.

Lucien uncorked it and went to stand in front of the flames. He lifted it in mock salute to the stands around him, and the crowd erupted. The liquid was so cold that it burned on the way down- like drinking liquid ice. A shiver went through him as the potion took effect. It was extremely discomforting, as though there was ice flowing through his veins.

He took a deep breath and held it as he stepped into the flames. The fire wrapped around him, blurring his vision of the maze. But where it should have burned, the fire merely ruffled his hair like a warm summer breeze. Another step and he was on the other side, the ruckus from the Gryffindor stands growing even louder.

He squinted into the darkness, suddenly blinded after the brightness of the flames.

And came face-to-face with Briallyn Skeeter, poisonous smile on her face, acid-green quill poised over her parchment.

---

Lucien jumped to his feet the moment Eris stepped into the champions’ tent. His brother was smiling, though it looked slightly forced.

“What is she doing here?” Elain growled next to him by way of greeting. Eris winced and led them out of the tent, away from the other champions.

Nesta, it turned out, had not won her battle with the Blast-Ended Skrewts, but had still been awarded a few points for her resourcefulness with the other obstacles she faced. Rhysand had managed to get through the fire barrier with seconds to spare, though had somehow managed to light himself on fire in the process. His usually sleek midnight-black hair was still smoking slightly at the edges. Elain had gotten almost top marks, with Lucien close behind, which left the current standings as Elain in first, Lucien second, and Rhys and Nesta tied for third.

Behind a closed curtain Nesta was being attended to by Madam Majda, who had been complaining in an endless stream about the danger of the competition. And in the other corner, sitting in front of a smug-looking Rhys, sat Brially Skeeter, special correspondent for the daily Prophet, and, it would appear, pinch-hitter judge.

“Hello to you too,” Eris drawled once they were back in the icy rain. From the other side of the tent they would hear the ruckus of hundreds of excited students walking back towards the castle. “And congratulations on your victory.”

“Eris,” Lucien urged. “What is that salamander doing here?”

“It was father’s idea,” Eris admitted through gritted teeth. “Press combined with a stand-in judge, wrapped in one.”

“And Professor Spell-Cleaver was ok with this?” Elain asked, voicing what Lucien had just been thinking. He didn’t know why that fact was even more upsetting than her being here, but for some reason it felt like a betrayal.

“From the look on his face when he saw her, I’d be willing to bet he had no idea.”

Elain glared at the tent with such venom that Lucien was surprised it didn’t immediately burst into flames. “I hope she burns in hell.”

“I couldn't agree more,” Eris said with a vicious grin. “But just ignore her, you don’t have to answer her questions. Hopefully Rhys gives her enough bullshit for her article to focus on him.”

Somehow Lucien seriously doubted that would be the case.

“Look,” Eris continued, glancing around to make sure they were alone. “The thing you asked me about-“

Elain visibly brightened. “The Hall of Prophecies?”

“Shh!” His brother looked around them again, uncharacteristically nervous. “Yes. That.”

“Have you found anything useful?” Lucien asked, not daring to hope.

“Well, I’ve managed to, how should I say, get closer to my friend who works in the Department of Mysteries.” Lucien choked on a laugh as Elain clapped a hand to her mouth. “She had some interesting information about the…large friends you asked about.”

“What did she say?” Lucien blurted. Elain’s fingers were a vice around his.

“Well,” Eris glanced around again and leaned in closer. “It turns out there have been sightings of them, but the reports have all been swept under the rug before they could reach certain ears.”

“Which ears?” Lucien asked, though he had a feeling he already knew the answer.

“Our dear father’s, of course.”

“You’re saying…”

“You’re saying there’s people within the ministry withholding information from the Minister?” Elain asked, stunned.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Eris answered grimly.

“And you had no idea about this?” Lucien pressed.

“Well, you can imagine why people might be a bit reluctant to rope me into a scheme to hide information from the Minister,” Eris replied drily.

Elain winced. “Fair enough. But what does this mean? Why are they there?”

“I have no idea,” Eris admitted, brow furrowed. “But I might have found a solution to our other problem. My friend agreed to help us.”

Lucien raised an eyebrow. His brother shrugged casually. “I have my ways. It’s going to take some time though. I’ll send you a signal when it’s all prepared.”

“Our problem?” Elain asked in a small voice.

Eris’ eyebrows rose in surprise. “Pardon?”

“You said our problem.”

Eris’ frown lifted into a savage smile. “You didn’t think I was going to let you have all the fun, did you? But in the meantime, for Merlin’s sake, try to lie low, will you?”

“Yea, mother,” Lucien quipped with a grin.

Eris shook his head darkly. “I mean it, Lucien. Something’s brewing, and I don’t like it. And for fuck’s sake, do not leave the grounds under any circumstances. All Hogwarts students are safe within the grounds, but outside…”

Lucien glanced at the Forbidden Forest in the distance, and the mountains beyond. As if he could get a glimpse of the beings that dwelled there, hidden from view. Someone had brought them there for a reason. They were waiting for something, he realized. He just didn’t know what that could be.

And he had a bad feeling he didn’t really want to know, either.

Taglist (taking a guess here, let me know if you'd like to be added/removed!): @labellefleur-sauvage @headcanonheadcase @separatist-apologist @velidewrites @c-e-d-dreamer @queercontrarian

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

[separatist-apologist]

Last Young Renegade

Summary: A war on the continent is looming. A Death God approaches, his curse slowly unravelling. A firebird screams through the night.

And Elain Archeron can see it all.

Read More: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | AO3

Chapter Summary: Hands, like secrets, are the hardest thing to keep from you

“Don’t. Move,” Lucien ordered, his body pressing her into the ground. Elain squirmed, trying desperately to free herself from the frigid snow and failing miserably. Lucien caged her against him, head pointed through the trees at some danger she couldn’t see. 

“Lucien,” she breathed, clawing at his tunic. “Lucien, please—”

His hand came to her mouth roughly, silencing her plea. She’d seen this all before. When? Remember! Her mind screamed desperately, writhing to keep him from doing what fate demanded. She bit at skin, tears sliding down her cheek to pool against his gloved hand. 

Don’t do this, please don’t do this—

Light flooded the dark, pouring from Lucien’s body like he’d become a living God, the sun itself. Writhing darkness demanded this sacrifice, that he unravel this spell. In the distance, a man's voice screamed for Lucien to stop. She didn’t recognize it, didn’t know who called for him. Elain broke free of his hand on her face.

“Lucien, stop—”

Power radiated around them, erupting like a volcanic blast. It was too much—Lucien was only one man. 

“Run,” he gasped, fingers curling in the dirt. The small part of him that wasn’t living sun was composed of dying flame. Elain reached for his face, fingers burning when they touched. 

“I won’t leave you.”

“Go,” he shoved, his body shuddering. The wind picked up, swirling around the pair of them. 

“You’ll die.”

Lucien’s face shifted and morphed, back into the shadowed, fanged darkness she’d seen before. He laughed, the sound high pitched and cruel. “You better run, Elain. He’s coming for you—”

“ELAIN!”

Elain jerked, not of her own accord. This time, instead of standing at the top of a terrifying drop she’d been attempting to crawl into the fireplace. Her nightgown had caught fire for the briefest of moments before Lucien shuttered it, holding her tight against his chest. 

“What are you dreaming about?” he demanded. 

“Nothing.”

“Liar,” he snarled, dragging her back to bed, arms still firm around her. She didn’t protest or pull away, not when he all but dumped her back to bed, his body close enough to touch. “Are they dreams or are they visions, Elain?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “Nightmares, I think.” After all, that same face had appeared twice now. “Visions feel like memories…” and her dreams felt real, as if they were happening while she was in them. 

Lucien reached for her face, sighing softly. She let him tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, comforted by the gesture. Hold me.

“Do you need anything?”

“A glass of water?” she asked, hating how small her voice sounded. Lucien nodded, rising from the bed to track it down. By the time he returned, glass in hand, Elain had settled just enough to not beg him to wrap her back up in his arms. 

“Were you having nightmares at home?”

“Sometimes,” she murmured. Not like this. It pacified him enough to lay back against the bed. 

“I’m thinking I should tie you to me,” he mumbled. “Before you hurt yourself.”

“That’s not necessary,” she whispered, turning her back to him, but who knew. Maybe it was. Lucien had killed the fireplace, leaving the room to be warmed solely by him and his magic. How long could he sustain that, she wondered? 

As it turned out, Lucien couldn’t the moment he fell into a deep sleep, a fact Elain learned when she woke up with her head buried in his shirted chest and his arms wrapped around her so tightly there was no possible escape. She didn’t want to. His scent enveloped her, lulling her back to sleep. She nuzzled closer and wondered if they couldn’t just have this while maintaining their polite, occasionally combative distance during the day. 

“Elain,” Lucien whispered, his voice rough from sleep. “Do you intend to stay in bed all day?”

“Can I?” she asked without thinking about what she was asking. After all, he was still holding her against his body, hadn’t moved an inch despite being awake. There was no pretending they weren’t laying together like this.

“I’m supposed to go hunting with Gunnar.”

Right. 

Carefully, Elain rolled out of his grasp, certain she felt his own hesitation. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“Did you have any more nightmares?” he asked, stretching his body now that he was free of their embrace. 

“No.”

“Interesting,” was all Lucien said before he rose from the bed and vanished into the bathroom. He was in there long enough Elain abandoned her own plan to bathe, deciding she’d just wait for night to fall. 

Dressed and up for the day, Elain skipped the dining hall, still exhausted and a little raw from the night before. Let Lucien work a little of his magic on the hunting trip. She was certain he’d come back victorious and handsome and all the women would fawn all over him until—

“Elain?”

Arina poked her head from the library door, beckoning Elain to join her. “Gunnar is prowling this morning. Don’t let him catch you alone.” It was the first words Arina had spoken to her since she’d arrived. Elain closed the door softly to the library, surprised to find they were the only ones inside. Unlike the rest of the palace, with its bright, open windows and glimmering surfaces, the library was dark and filled with very old, very polished wood. Arina was the brightest light in the room, her dress a vibrant green despite the otherwise dim surroundings. 

“He’s grabby,” Arina added with irritation. 

“He asked for someone pretty,” Elain told her. Arina rolled her eyes.

“He should look at his own wife, then. She would be back home.”

“This whole court makes no sense to me,” Elain admitted. “Everyone is constantly fighting or…”

“Or fucking,” Arina supplied with amusement. “Yes, I’ve noticed that too. Not that Day Court doesn’t have its moments, but it’s not encouraged with quite so much quiet cruelty as it is between Hilda and Gunnar.”

“You’re not tempted?”

Arina scoffed. “I’ve slept with Helion,” she said, clearly proud of that accomplishment. “Have you seen him?”

Elain frowned. “Once, I think?”

“You should come by and look again. Not one male here can measure up with their clothes on.”

“Maybe they have some hidden talent,” Elain dismissed, trying to recall how they’d gotten on this topic to begin with. Arina’s eyes sparkled, her body swaying as she walked through the stacks to her little workstation far in the back.

“Is that what Lucien has? Hidden talent? He is all the females speak of. Just this morning at breakfast I heard a play by play of how good he looked sparring yesterday. Shirtless,” Arina added.

When had he done that? Elain sighed.

“And they’ll never know.”

“Yes, the famous mated pair. How they hate you.”

“They don’t hate me. They just wish they were me,” Elain replied, her feelings hurt only a little. “And they’ll get over it.”

Arina nodded. “True…do you suppose they’ll be over it before or after the festival in Volta this weekend?”

“Festival?”

“Yes. It’s the perfect place to dig up a little dirt…not that you’re trying to do that, of course. Curious, how you, a total stranger, have made yourself indispensable to the queen so easily.”

Elain shrugged. “I’m friendly.”

Arina looked down at her book. “Of course. I wasn’t saying otherwise.”

Elain turned her back, intending to warn Lucien if anyone accosted him with their mouth at the end of the week it certainly wasn’t her. She’d almost forgotten Arina’s casual suspicion when Arina called, “Helion warned me about you.”

Elain froze. “Warned you?”

“The Seer,” she whispered softly. “With her Vanserra mate. What the pair, you two are. Lucien, with his fox-like reputation and you, a female gifted magic by the Cauldron herself.”

Elain turned, hiding her panic. “What are you talking about?”

Arina smiled, reclining in her chair behind a sack of books. “You aren’t the only one looking for things, Elain. I could help you, if you trusted me.”

“I’m just here to get to know Rask.”

“Of course. And I’m only here to study this ancient curse. Just two females from Prythian doing exactly what their High Lords asked of them.”

Elain leveled a stare. “And what, exactly, did Helion ask you to do?”

Arina only grinned. “What, indeed?”

LUCIEN: 

Was it wrong to look forward to the evening specifically to pull Elain into his arms and unpack his stupid fucking day? Lucien suspected the answer was yes and yet, when Elain crawled into bed looking exhausted and clean from the bath she’d just taken, Lucien lunged, dragging her against him.

“I figured you’d tie a string around my wrist or something,” she grumbled, though she didn’t pull away.

“This is easier…and is less of a choking hazard,” he added, thinking of how she might try and hang herself if she had another of her nightmares. The thought was sobering. Elain sighed, eyes focused on the ceiling overhead. 

“I’m starting to think you were right.”

Lucien, distracted by her hair spilled across his chest, nearly missed what she said. “Oh?”

“I’m so out of my depth here. They split us up and I don’t know who I can trust. And it doesn’t help that all I hear about his how much the other women–”

“Females. People are starting to wonder where you come from. I am a male, you are a female—”

“Well, where I come from that's a degrading way to talk about people,” she hissed, twisting in his arms. “Like we’re dogs or something.”

Lucien smothered a smile. “Yes. Humans and their civility.”

“So, you’re, what, an animal, then?”

“Yes,” he agreed with no small amount of satisfaction. He was tempted to offer to show her just how much of an animal he could be but didn’t dare push his luck. Not when they were almost friends. Lucien didn’t dare give her a whiff of wanting to court her lest he be rejected. Again. Elain was figuring herself out, figuring this world out. If all he ever was was this—the male who kept her from killing herself while she worked through her nightmares—maybe it was enough. Having her in some capacity felt infinitely better than not having her at all. 

“Did you learn anything?”

Lucien’s face darkened. Gunnar had all but demanded he let Lucien take a shot at Elain all in good fun. “Nothing I didn’t already know.”

“Do you think Gunnar really wants to ally with Koschei?” she whispered, as if Gunnar might spring from beneath the bed and hear them.

“No,” Lucien murmured after a moment. “I think he is weighing the safety of his own people against the future of our world. What I do think is he wants to take Montessere and wants to be sure we won’t step in with the Cauldron and obliterate him off the map.”

“Something is off,” Elain told him, snuggling just a little closer though he didn’t think she was even aware she did it.

“How much of the future can you see?”

“Don’t ask me that,” she said quickly, eyes finding his. He was tempted to ask what she knew—what she was hiding. He could feel her tension rolling off her in waves. 

“I thought we agreed to no secrets?” His words were light, almost teasing for all the good it did him. Elain closed her eyes, drawing a soft breath. 

“We barely know each other, Lucien.”

Her words were a slap in the face. For one, she was laying in his arms, tucked against his body. He wanted to remind her that he was the only thing standing between her and a literal king strolling in on her while she bathed each morning and had, on two occasions now, stopped her from injuring if not accidentally throwing herself off a mountainside.

“Right,” he agreed, swallowing all his hurt and resentment. Part of him wanted to pull away, to let her deal with this on her own. She would have deserved it, he thought. Maybe even wanted it. Why was he supposed to be her emotional punching bag?

Lucien kept her pulled against him, face smothered in her hair. “Not going anywhere.”

She reached for his wrist, brushing her thumb over the skin.

“I know.”

He had the sense something wasn’t quite right somewhere in his dream. Right before the bond winked out and the usual glow in his chest went dark, Lucien’s eyes opened of their own accord, the hair on his arm standing at attention. Lucien turned his head, eyes scanning the dark room for the intruder. He almost expected to find a rogue male creeping in hoping Elain was alone.

A soft wind blew through the room, curious given all the windows were closed. He began to untangle Elain from his arms to walk through the room, just to be certain they were alone.

The bond faded to nothing and Elain twisted in his grip, her eyes devoid of life again. They were blown out, near black where even the whites should have been.

“Elain–”

She scrambled for him, all but screaming as she lunged and toppled him to the ground. She was so little, hardly a match for him at all were it not for the glinting silver and green dagger in her hand. Lucien hadn’t realized she was armed when he fell to the floor but when her blade pierced his stomach, he was more than aware. 

“Cauldron, Elain,” he groaned, catching her arm roughly when she made to bring it back over him. He could see the blood lust on her otherwise empty face. “Elain, it’s me—”But maybe she knew. Maybe that was the point, maybe she’d hidden that dagger on purpose.

Despite the blood leaking from his body, Lucien managed to pin her beneath him. It was not how he’d imagined this moment—Elain had been writhing from pleasure and not the urge to see him dead. 

Lucien ripped at the bond, hands holding her wrists, his thighs clenched painfully around her torso. “Wake up,” he ordered, letting the magic lace his every word. He hadn’t expected it to work so well and yet all at once, Elain went limp. Lucien pried the dagger from her hand, throwing it across the room with a clatter. “What the fuck was that?” he demanded when she began to push against his grip.

“Nothing, just a dream–” she gasped when she saw him, blood still pooling from his wound.

“Of course, it’s just your run of the mill nightmare, you know, up until you stabbed me,” he retorted, trying very hard not to shout. Elain burst into tears, arms wrapped around her blood stained nightdress and though he was the one with the punctured body, Lucien felt as if he’d done something unforgivably wrong.

“Elain, please. Let me help you.”

“You can’t,” she whispered, going to the bathroom for some towels. He’d need more than that. Lucien managed to get to his feet, ignoring the white hot streak of pain that lanced through him.

He used his magic to suck up the puddle of blood on the floor, sparing them both from an awkward conversation in the morning, though it did little to stop the dripping trail behind him as he made his way for the tub. 

Hauling off his shirt, Lucien thought it looked worse than it was. “Where did you get the blade, Elain?”

He needed to know if she’d intentionally hurt him. If Elain had brought the dagger into the bed, Lucien had every intention of sending her back home in the morning with a warning that she needed to be better guarded while he worked. He wasn’t going to entertain her if she was trying to harm him. He couldn’t deal with the implication that his mate had tried to kill him on purpose, that she’d waited until he fell asleep…that she hated him so much she’d rather see him dead. It made Lucien’s chest ache, not from his wound but the realization she would never accept the bond. 

“I don’t know,” she whispered, tears pouring down her cheeks. She couldn’t take her eyes off his stomach, off the smeared blood still sliding off his skin. “In my dream I…”

Ignoring the fact that he still wore pants, Lucien reached for the tap and turned on the water. “Yes?”

“I was stabbing Hybern again,” she said, shoulders shaking. “I was trying to keep him away from Nesta and Feyre, I…I didn’t mean…”

Lucien exhaled. “So, just so I understand. Your nightmares compel you to hurt someone. Yourself…and now me, the only person keeping you from hurting yourself?”

Elain nodded her head.

 “And you don’t see a problem with that?”

She wept harder. “I do, I just—”

“Tell me what you’re dreaming, Elain,” he ordered again, pouring every ounce of magic available to him into the command. She was his mate. Lucien thought she’d have to obey, or at least, would buckle beneath the weight of his command. He was still bleeding, half naked in a tub of pink water while Elain stood in a ruined night dress that was coated in his blood. His instincts were running a river, demanding he kill something to protect her and it was with disappointment that he realized she did not feel the same.

He watched her struggle against the command, her legs shaking until she collapsed to the floor. Only then, knees drawn to her chest, did Elain begin explaining the dreams. Lucien tried to pretend her nearly launching herself into oblivion for Graysen didn’t hurt every last feeling in his body, worse than anything a knife could have done. 

Her next dream was worse than the first because it implied she was lying, in some respects, because she worried he might die. It was the first time Elain dared to make eye contact with him.

“It’s only a dream,” he said, uncomfortable as fuck in his sopping wet pants and his still aching wound. “My magic is hot but it’s not light—”

“I’ve seen it,” she interrupted with a miserable whisper. “In Hybern…you used that same power.”

Lucien shook his head. “That was just the mate instinct.”

She didn’t look convinced and to be fair, neither was he. Not when Elain just knew things she shouldn’t. It was too much for one night.

“And this last one?”

“I told you. It was like I was there again. I only realized it was you...or, I guess, not Hybern when I saw that awful face.”

Elain gulped down air between sobs, letting herself absorb the full weight of what was happening. Lucien couldn’t bear it. “Hey,” he murmured. Elain buried her face in her knees, shaking so hard he thought she might break apart. It was with a pained grunt he managed to haul himself out of the tub and raise her chin. “No harm done. Look, I’m already healing,” he added, rising up on his knees so she could see the wound knitting up before their very eyes. 

“I could have killed you.”

“No, Elain, you could not,” he replied frankly. “Not unless you get a lot better at aiming and a lot stronger.”

She sniffed. “Really?”

“Yes,” he agreed solemnly. “Please don’t cry. I’m not angry, just worried. I want to help you and I can’t when you keep secrets. You can trust me.”

She nodded, letting him wipe at her eyes. “Maybe I should sleep in the closet—”

“No,” he said too quickly. “You’ll stay where I can keep tabs on you. Whatever magic this is, I’d rather you stab me every night than hurt yourself because I can’t get to you in time. Swear it,

Elain. Swear on the bond between us—no more secrets.”She pressed her lips together in a maddening line and Lucien, sopping wet and bleeding, felt his heart crack. 

“Okay.”

She looked at him, eyes wide with true fear. “Okay?”

“You’ll go home tomorrow,” he groaned, hauling himself to his feet. 

“But you’ll stay?” she asked, clambering up with him, hand on his elbow to steady him. “How is that fair—”

“YOU STABBED ME!” he snarled furiously, yanking his arm from her grasp. “And want to sit there and say you can’t trust me! So yes, Elain. You’ll go home and that’s where you’ll stay. I’m done.”

“You’re done?” she squeaked from behind him, so very small and sad and miserable. Lucien’s rotten heart shattered a little more, demanding he turn even as he hobbled back to the bedroom for a clean shirt and a dry set of pants. 

“What else can I do, Elain? How else can I prove myself? I’ve stayed away, I’ve given you time and space. I’ve tried to learn about you, tried to prove myself and at every turn you throw up wall after wall, shut every possible door in my face. How can you ask me to let you stay when there is a very real possibility you will one day throw yourself off a ledge—” his voice cracked, betraying his very real feelings. “And I won’t get there in time?”

More tears slid down her face and Lucien very much wished he’d never told her he was done with her. He wished he’d just kept his mouth shut and made her get into the bath with him, had washed his blood off her skin and tucked her back into bed.

“I said I was sorry–”

“It’s not enough, Elain. You’re going home.”

“I’ll tell you!” she gasped, as if the words were physically painful to her. “No secrets,” she added when he turned. “Please don’t send me back.”

He sighed. “Elain–”

“Please,” she begged, her tears dripping down her chin to mingle with his blood on the cold floor. “I’m trying, Lucien. I can try harder.”

He couldn’t stop himself then, crossing the distance between them to pull her against him. Elain’s whole body shook, weeping soft against his aching, bleeding chest. “I’m trying so hard,” she sobbed, arms folded between them. “My whole life was stolen from me.”

He pressed his face into her hair, blinking back his own urge to cry. “I know.”

“Everyone acts as if it was fine, like I should be grateful. Of course Nesta and Feyre figured it out—they were miserable when we were human, but Lucien? I was so happy.”

For just a moment, he tried to really imagine it without letting his own jealousy get in the way. He could remember how he’d felt, making his own plans with Jesminda. How he’d proposed, the dreams he’d had, the plans he’d made. Stolen in one horrible moment, changing the entire trajectory of his entire life. He felt haunted, even then, by the ache of it all. The what might have been. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Elain didn’t acknowledge his words but she did uncurl her arms to hold him, her grip so tight his ribs protested. It wasn’t a declaration of undying love or even a real promise of friendship. But in that ugly, terrifying moment, something shifted between them.

And Lucien thought even the Gods themselves noticed.

ELAIN:

A new emissary had arrived. Elain was avoiding the commotion, grateful for new blood to distract people from Lucien. If she had to field one more question about his penis, she thought she might scream. Surely there were more fascinating ways to spend a persons time than sex? Only, in Rask’s court, all the females had was their scheming. The fun seemed to be getting the male beneath them and not the actual act itself. Hardly a feat given how none of the males respected the females they’d married enough to pose a true challenge. 

Elain was avoiding them all. No one knew what had gone on between her and Lucien two nights before. She’d caught him in the bathroom, shirtless, peering at his stomach in the mirror for any sign of the wound but just as he’d promised it would. It didn’t stop the guilt she felt from beginning to fester beneath her skin. She wasn’t sleeping, terrified of what else she might be capable of. Lucien kept her tight against him but what good was that when she could materialize weapons from nothing? What stopped her next nightmare from offering up an ash arrow and plunging it into his heart. Elain understood why Lucien had to go.

He was keeping her from finishing what the dreams were trying to start. It would have been better to let him take her home and at the same time, far worse. She knew Feyre would overreact and Rhysand would give her the Nesta treatment—locking her up somewhere she couldn’t be hurt, watched every moment of every day by one of the members of his court while he tried to figure out what to do with her.

At least Lucien didn’t care if she walked away from him. At least Lucien offered her space and understanding. She was starting to suspect he was a good man—male. She didn’t know what to do about that. 

“There you are,” Arina’s voice fluttered through Elain’s thoughts, dragging her back to the present. Elain was hiding in one of the spires, tucked into a window ledge with her book. “I’ve been looking everywhere. Lucien is, too. He’s worried,” Arina added without her usual mischief. Elain sighed, closing her book gently in her lap. 

“No need. I’m just avoiding the new emissary.”

“You and me both. Beron is so absurd,” Arina grumbled, helping Elain back to the slippery opal beneath their feet. 

“Beron is here?”

Arina scoffed. “He wouldn’t dare. Helion is practically breathing down his neck. There’s some old feud between the two of them and Helion is just looking for a reason to start a war with him. No, he sent one of his obnoxious sons, likely to torment Lucien.”

“Which one?” Elain asked, well aware she had no idea who any of them were outside of Eris. Arina shrugged delicate shoulders, tugging on the golden chain around her neck. “I didn’t stick around to see. Lucien asked if I’d seen you and then Zosia started touching the buttons on his jacket and—”

“Right. I get it.” And then Arina had come to Lucien’s rescue and the two had teamed up to find Elain. Elain ignored the way her stomach clenched at the thought of Zosia's fingers on Lucien's clothes. “We should go and check him out, just to see.”

“He’s almost certainly here to spy on us,” Arina grumbled. 

“All the more reason to see what we’re up against. I think I can handle one more Vanserra.”

“You have the only decent one,” Arina murmured, nodding her head without looking at several passing courtiers, all eyeing her with hungry interest. 

“None of them appeal to you?”

“If I’m setting down, it’s with some High Lord’s heir,” Arina said with a wrinkled nose. “Maybe Tarquin.”

“He’s not heir. He is High Lord.”

“Even better,” Arina agreed. “I met him on his pleasure barge, you know. Elain, you would have died. Imagine—”

“Elain Archeron.” A smooth, masculine voice slid over Elain’s skin, drawing her steps to a total halt. She knew without looking who was just behind, listening to their conversation with amused fascination. Elain turned first, gazing into the handsome, angular face of Eris Vanserra. He might have been utterly bored were it not for the interest in his amber eyes. He stood like the first born son—heir apparent, for all it mattered—might. Dressed immaculately in a buttoned jacket of green, his black pants tailored perfectly. He’d cut his auburn hair since she’d last seen him, the short sides and longer, pushed back top making him seem more handsome and regal. Golden earrings adorned his pointed lobes and several heavy rings on his broad, fair hands made them seem bigger—more powerful. 

“I didn’t think you were allowed out of the basement,” Eris continued, eyes flicking towards Arina’s still turned back for only a moment. “Something, something, keep the princess from the evil Vanserra, something something. Am I right? Isn’t that how the story goes?”

Arina turned then, green eyes narrowed to slits. Eris looked again, shifting ever so slightly before his eyes came back to Elain. She supposed that was all the acknowledgement he’d offer the beautiful female from Day Court. “Imagine my wonder and surprise when we learned not only had they freed you from your prison but they allowed you to wed.”

His lips curled over his teeth. He knew they were liars, had been in Hewn City not six months earlier dancing with her sister. 

“Right after Cassian wed Nesta,” Elain replied, careful to keep her voice easy and soft. “You remember my elder sister?”

Eris didn’t react to the barb. “Barely.”

“What brings you to Rask? Are you going to join us in the tulip fields?” Elain asked, inching just a little closer. Eris looked down at her, his expression utterly unreadable. “It would be so nice getting to know someone in Lucien’s family.”

“I’ll bet they eat you up over here, don’t they?” he sneered. “You’re such a sweet little thing.”

Elain made her eyes big and round. “Yes.”

“I’m not so easily manipulated, Elain Archeron,” Eris all but whispered, stepping into her personal space. 

“It’s Elain Vanserra,” she replied just as softly, daring to meet his leveled stare. True surprise flickered in his gaze, just enough for Elain to know she’d gained the upper hand, if only for a moment. 

“Lady Vanserra,” he murmured, glancing towards Arina as he said it. “That sounds nice, don’t you think?”

“You should go back home,” Arina said instead, ignoring his words. “You have no business here.”

Eris looked down at Elain. “And leave my baby sister to the wolves? I think not. Tell Lucien I said hi.”

Eris turned heel, leaving the two standing just outside the Great Hall to watch him go. Arina seemed to exhale a shaking breath Elain hadn’t even known she’d been holding.  “He’s such a bastard,” she whispered. 

“He can’t find out what we’re doing,” Elain agreed, crossing her arms over her chest.

“How do you plan to keep him from poking his nose into everyone's business? They’ll take one look at him and…” And spill their guts just to get him out of his clothes. Elain thought Eris didn’t seem the type. There was something lifeless about his face despite his sneering countenance. As if he wore a mask and if she peeled it away, she’d find a trembling little bird just behind.

“I’ll occupy Eris,” she said, recognizing something about herself in the eldest Vanserra. It was in his eyes, though Elain didn’t know what, exactly, that thing was. “At least long enough for you to work on that curse.”

“I could work on it for a century,” Arina grumbled. “And still, I’d be staring at gibberish.”

“I’m starting to think it was a mistake coming here,” Elain murmured, staring at the empty space Eris had once been. Arina, her eyes vacant, nodded her head.

“I think so, too.”

LUCIEN:

Eris’s voice was like being doused in frigid water. “I hear congratulations are in order. Mother is going to be so put out when she learns you didn’t even send an invitation. Wedded, little brother. And here I was thinking you’d never get over—”

“Don’t you dare say her name,” Lucien warned, facing off with his eldest brother in a stairwell while he looked for Elain. Eris clicked his teeth, shaking his head.

“Well. Elain is far lovelier than I remember. I suppose that’s the glow of newly mated love, though. When did you find the time?”

Lucien knew Eris didn’t need to sniff through the lie—his brother had gone to visit Vassa and Jurian merely a week before Rhysand had offered up the mission. Lucien had strolled from his bedroom to find Eris toying with a dagger at the breakfast table, filled with endless questions about Koschei’s fortress. 

“Why are you so worried about what I do and don’t do with Elain? Disappointed she couldn’t reject you, too?”

“We have that in common, I suppose,” Eris grinned, following behind Lucien as he began to jog down the stairs. “Given Elain didn’t accept shit and we both know it.”

Lucien spun, slamming his elder brother against the tower wall as hard as he could. Pressing his forearm against Eris’s windpipe, Lucien growled, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Eris shoved, knocking Lucien back a step. Adjusting his jacket, cheeks flushed, he said, “I’ve been around too many mated pairs. I know the scent well enough. You’ve got these dumbfucks fooled because they’re too ignorant to recognize what an unsatisfied female looks like.”

Lucien swallowed the urge to shove his brother down the stairs. Eris tugged at his cuffs, the picture of wounded nobility.

“I didn’t come here to fight you.”

“Why did you come?” Lucien demanded. “Tired of fathers boot on your neck? Hoping to breathe a little freely?”

Eris’s rage was a real, simmering thing. Lucien knew exactly how to get beneath his Eris’s skin, after all. Eris hadn’t always been such a piece of shit—there were moments Lucien could recall almost loving Eris. Eris had been a man when Lucien was born and as a boy, all he’d wanted was to be his older brother.

But Eris could be cruel, just like their father and Lucien loved his mother far too much to mold himself in Beron’s image. It had always been the difference between them. Eris wanted to be High Lord and, as consequence, was willing to do anything to get it. And Lucien, who watched Eris chip away at his soul in service of that goal, had learned too young he had no interest in that sort of power.

He did understand one thing, though. Lucien knew the lengths he would personally go to keep Elain safe, and killing Eris ranked very, very low. He wondered if his brother didn’t recognize the bent in Lucien’s thoughts. “I’m not going to tell anyone about your dumb fucking lie. I don’t care enough about your love life to make a spectacle of it. Although,” he added after a moment, “Mother was hurt you didn’t tell her.”

“How could I? Father opens all my letters,” Lucien snapped. “It’s not as if she would have been allowed to come. I’m dead, remember?”

“If only,” Eris mumbled. “Are you going to tell me what you’re doing here or will I be forced to guess? Don’t make me guess, Lucien. It’s so tedious.”

“I’m here because Elain wants to see the tulips.”

If looks could kill, Lucien thought he would have fallen dead at the bottom of the landing. “Yes, your fascinating mate said as much. Oh, to have been a fly on the wall for that conversation. She invited me to join, you know. Don’t tempt me.”

“If Elain wants you to join us, who am I to deny her?”

A strange look passed over Eris’s face, so fleeting Lucien might have imagined it had his brother not said, “Of course. She is Lady Vanserra, after all.”

Lucien halted, turning his head ever so slowly to look at the hatred burning in Eris’s eyes. “You should have kept her Archeron,” Eris whispered, hands clenched to fists. “Father will–”

“Father can get fucked,” Lucien snapped, his heart pounding in his chest. Lady Vanserra was his mother, had been the derogatory name Beron called Amera anytime she displeased him. Lucien hadn’t thought of it until it was Eris speaking that hated title, his whole body rigid. “I can call my wife whatever I like.”

“And here I was, thinking you two had true love,” Eris sneered. “Did Rhysand force her hand like mothers—”

Lucien slammed his brother back against the wall, fingers curling so tightly around Eris’s throat he could feel the furious flutter of Eris’s pulse. It was only a moment before power exploded from Eris, pushing Lucien back. They might have been boys again, squabbling angrily in the Forest House, shoving and pushing and kicking with their autumn kissed power.

Only, it wasn’t just fire pouring from Lucien’s hands. Eris noticed it too, drawing back when a pulse of bright yellow slipped from his gut, slapping Eris hard in the face. Lucien looked down at his hands, recalling what Elain had said. I’ve seen it. 

Eris blinked, smoothing over his features as if nothing had happened at all. It would be useless to ask his brother what this was, not when Eris might tattle to Beron…not when the magic in autumn might be shifting, might be reconsidering which brother might inherit the throne. Lucien drew back an instinctive step. If Eris suspected he wasn’t next, he’d kill Lucien without blinking an eye.

“You should take your pretty little mate home. This is no place for her.”

Lucien turned his back to Eris. “What the fuck would you know?”

Eris didn’t respond, not that Lucien gave his brother a chance to. With Eris here, everything was more complicated. It was almost worse, in some ways, than having Beron. Lucien could maneuver around his father, could predict what Beron might do, the ways in which he might act. Eris had always been his own agent of chaos, enforcing their fathers will with his own particular brand of cruelty. 

More and more, Lucien wondered if the whole mission wasn’t doomed from the start. Gunnar was more interested in chasing skirts than talking politics and Lucien and Elain were slowly unraveling. He knew she wasn’t sleeping, was barely eating. She kept up her appearances but Hilda had pulled back from Elain once Arina arrived, content to sit upon her throne and watch her court with near sullen eyes. Lucien could sense her resentment and wondered how Gunnar didn’t recognize his wife’s own anger even when it looked him so brazenly in the face.

Maybe Eris was right, in his own stupid way. Maybe it was a mistake to keep Elain somewhere like this. Lucien could still see the fear in her eyes when he’d said he meant to take her back, her soft desperation. She’d been trying too hard, in the aftermath, tiptoeing around him when he wished she’d go back to arguing with him. 

He found her at the dining table picking at a cucumber salad, a vision in a sky blue confection. “There you are,” he murmured, dropping heavily into the chair beside her. Elain looked over with heavy lidded eyes and to his secret surprise, scooted her chair close enough she could rest her head on his arm.

“Can we go upstairs for a while?” she murmured, fork all but clattering to the table. “Will you watch me sleep?”

He would have crawled over hot coals if she’d asked. “Yeah,” he agreed, pleased when she all but batted her pretty little eyes at him. Elain let him keep his hand in hers, perhaps unaware he was stroking his thumb over the soft skin of her wrist. 

“Eris is here.”

“I know,” Lucien grumbled, leading her towards the stairs. “I think we’ll participate in the festival and then get away to the tulips for a few days. Come back and see where we’re at and if it's even worth staying another month.”

“And if it’s not?” she whispered, tensing with every new step forward.

Lucien kept his shrug too casual. “There are other places we could visit. I am emissary, after all.”

“You’ll bring me with you?”

“Until you demand to return home,” Lucien agreed, his heart fluttering in his throat. He would do exactly as he promised even as he hoped her opinion of him might shift, might become more curious and less mistrusting. 

“I don’t ever want to go back,” Elain said, her words cutting through his hopeful thoughts. “I hate Velaris.”

“You don’t hate–”

“Yes I do,” she replied, yanking her hand from his grip. Lucien had to suppress a smile, trotting after her into their shared bedroom. “I hate how everyone is always watching me, how they follow me around. I’m never alone unless I’m in my room. They just assume I must love it because they do but I don’t even like starlight,” Elain added. “And it’s never warm enough, the water is always cold, and—”

“It’s not home,” he finished, noting the way her body practically sagged with relief.

“Exactly,” she agreed, plopping onto the bed with a loud sigh. “Nothing about this life is. I’m so out of place. I don’t know where I belong or even who I am…”

Lucien’s chest ached. He couldn’t help but join her, sitting on the edge of bed, his thigh practically touching her own. “I feel the same way.”

She turned her head to look at him. “Really?”

He nodded. “Maybe we’ll just live like nomads for the next century. Bouncing from place to place, trying to figure out what feels right.”

Elain smiled. “I’d like that. I want to see more of this world. I’ve only ever seen Velaris…and now this place.”

“We can remedy that,” Lucien assured her. “You’ve got centuries, you know. You don’t need to make a decision about your life right this second.”

Her eyes settled. “Even about…this?”

“Especially about this,” Lucien lied. He wanted her to pick him so badly it made his teeth ache. “I got three centuries to be stupid and run around. If you need just as much time, take it. I’ll wait.” Elain took another breath but her eyes were light again. Warm. Happy, even. He’d done that. It bolstered him. “I thought you wanted to nap?”

“I do,” she said with the sweetest sigh. “Tell me about Eris, first.”

Lucien flopped back onto the bed, head tilted to look at her. “What do you want to know?”

Elain grinned. “Everything.”

ELAIN:

Life at court had settled into a routine, strange as it was. Elain woke each morning for breakfast before the ladies decided on what games they wanted to play. Lunch inevitably broke up a near faight between two females who were almost certainly arguing over a male that did not deserve their attention and by the time the afternoon rolled around, everyone was a little drunk and back in good spirits.

Everyone but Hilda. Hilda presided over them all, indulging in their games and soothing squabbles but underneath it all, Elain recognized the near dead eyed dread she stared into. Elain knew that feeling too well. It was what kept prompting Elain to sit beside Hilda, to include her in the gossip, even when Hilda hardly seemed interested.

Not until Eris arrived, anyway. Elain had seen the way Hilda watched the Autumn court heir stroll through court, murmuring to her husband as they left. “Eris Vanserra,” she murmured, her words soft. “I met his father once.” Elain turned to look. “Oh?”

“He’s not half as handsome as his sons,” she said, not for the first time. “He was very married when I met him…for all that it mattered.”

Well. That was disturbing. Elain looked over, suppressing the urge to gag. “I hear he’s terribly unkind.”

“Oh, that he is,” Hilda murmured, examining her nails. “You know how those Vanserra’s are. I wonder what his eldest son is like.”

Elain cleared her throat. “Do you want me to ask?”

She laughed. “Oh, no. He is a pretty diversion, though. Unmated?”

Elain almost choked. “Eris? I doubt he has a mate anywhere in the world.”

“He needs someone powerful,” she mused and Elain, so utterly disturbed to hear anyone speak about Eris that way, could only nod her head. 

“You know what we should do?” Hilda announced, silencing the ladies in the drawing room they were all lounging in. “A dance. Tonight,” she added pointedly as if the room hadn’t erupted into squealing giggles. Any excuse to get dressed up and drink was well worth the revelry. Elain would have been delighted, too, had she not known the true purpose of the dance. All that effort over Eris Vanserra?

Elain was dying by the time she found a bewildered Lucien wandering towards their bedroom. “Did you hear the queen has ordered a ball?”

Elain nodded so exuberantly that Lucien’s eyes narrowed instantly. “What do you know?”

Elain shoved him into their bedroom before breathlessly declaring, “Hilda slept with your father.”

Lucien blanched. “How awful.”

“She liked it. She said—”

Lucien held up a hand. “Do not tell me what she said. He’s been married to my mother for six centuries. Hilda is barely older than six decades. When did she find the time?”

Oh. Elain hadn’t thought to ask. “She didn’t say.”

“A mercy, I suppose. What does that have to do with tonight?”

“She’s interested in your brother.”

“Ugh,” Lucien grumbled. “I have to dress up so she has an excuse to seduce Eris? Lets stay in—”

“You stay in,” Elain interrupted blithely, walking to their shared closet for a dress. “I want to see if she’s successful.”

Lucien cringed. “You like Eris, now?”

“When did I say that? I only said I wanted to see if this seduction is successful. Hilda is so…” She didn’t know how to finish that. Hilda was so strange. Icy and cold one minute, open and warm the next. She’d told Elain about her task for Arina saying she wanted Elain’s opinion…and then never spoke of it again. It was almost like having a friend, almost the illusion of trust. Elain frowned. 

“There is a festival in Volta this weekend, too.”

“Yes,” his voice grumbled from behind the closet door. “We have a full social calendar, don’t we?”

“When were you thinking of going to see tulips?” That was what Elain really wanted. A chance to escape court, to spend a day or two in nature. Perhaps they could sleep in another inn, if only to get away from the headache inducing atmosphere Hilda and Gunnar had created. 

“I don’t know,” came his muffled reply. Elain’s fingers hesitated over the dresses. Lucien was busy, she reminded herself. He hadn’t come here to show her a good time, he’d come here to do a job. Now Eris had arrived and Helion was meddling and their jobs were more difficult than before. She tried not to let her disappointment overwhelm her but if Elain was being honest, she knew part of what she wanted was to be alone with him. No females constantly touching, laughing, lurking. 

It was a foolish thing to want.

Elain emerged with a deep hunter green gown, laying it across the neatly made bed. “Well. I still want to go.” Lucien glanced up from his chair, the letter in his hand slipping for a moment. “We will. I just don’t know when. Or how. When I brought it up, Gunnar wanted to make a whole trip out of it–”

“No,” she breathed, heart pounding. “They can’t come.”

“And then, of course, you invited Eris.”

“I wasn’t being serious,” Elain protested. Lucien went back to his letter, a muscle jumping in his jaw. 

“I’m sure you weren’t.”

“Are you mad?” she gaped. Lucien didn’t acknowledge that, though his knee began bouncing. He was. Elain huffed a loud breath, abandoning her dress and her mate—the infuriating, stupid, arrogant male—to their bedroom. She’d find Ione and Zosia and see if they wanted to play a game of bowling, one of the more favorite games at court. They might want Lucien, which annoyed her, but when he wasn’t around she found their company more than tolerable. 

Elain made it all the way to the bottom of the steps before she was intercepted by a different Vanserra. He opened his mouth to offer some snide comment. Elain cut him off. “Oh, be quiet.” His eyebrows shot upwards. “Careful of your claws, kitten.” “

Remember what I just said, Eris?” she snapped. “I’m not in the mood for your word games.”

“Okay. How about a direct question? What the fuck are you and Lucien doing here?”

She stopped dead in her tracks, alone in the empty corridor though she doubted they would be for long.

“You first, big brother,” she replied with mock sweetness. Eris opened his mouth when the sound of chattering interrupted them both. Soft, serious voices prompted Eris to grab Elain around the waist, hand against her mouth, as he pressed her just behind the corner of another hall.

“Shhh,” he whispered, turning his head to listen. Elain was tempted to bite his hand, to lick his skin if only to annoy him. Why was he touching her? She didn’t like how the Vanserra’s were so comfortable putting their hands all over her body. 

“And the mortals?” That was Gunnar’s whispered, soft voice.

“Dead. Easily killed,” scoffed another male. Elain’s eyes shot to Eris.

“Marcellus,” he whispered against her ear. 

“All of them?” Gunnar was prompting something that eluded both Elain and Eris. Marcellus chuckled.

“Do you truly wish to know?”

Eris and Elain looked at each other. Yes.

“I suppose not,” Gunnar agreed to their combined disappointment. “So long as everything was cleaned up.”

“It is as if they never existed.”

“And what of the…”

“We’re finding it…difficult…to penetrate their borders. Several soldiers have returned with their minds addled. Confused,” Marcellus added pointedly. “It is as the Autumn Lord said.” Elain looked at Eris accusingly. He merely shook his head, a tendril of his auburn hair sliding into his eyes. Beron, he mouthed. 

“Interesting. Is there no other way in?”

“No. Our ship did not make it to port. It simply vanished,” Marcellus said softly. “Prythian is hiding more secrets than their emissaries suggest.”

“I will speak with Elain Vanserra this evening. She is not as well-trained as her slippery mate,” Gunnar murmured. 

Marcellus’s dark, appreciative chuckle made Eris’s lips curl over his teeth in rage. “Let me know if you want any help.”

“She might like it,” Gunnar agreed, his voice traveling further away. “If I can get him away from her.”

“He is quite rabid,” Marcellus agreed. “Leave him to me.”

Eris and Elain listened to their fading steps and their crude jokes as to what, exactly they might do if they managed to separate her from Lucien. Elain’s heart pounded in her chest, loud enough she knew Eris could likely hear it. 

He dropped his hand from her mouth. “Meet him tonight,” Eris breathed, pushing away from her to run a hand through his neatly coiffed hair. “I’ll keep watch. Meet him and tell him—”

“What have you told him?”

“Nothing,” Eris gasped, his amber eyes wild with alarm. With anger. “I was sent to watch Lucien, I didn’t…this is…” it was so odd, seeing the silver-tongued Autumn heir at a loss for words. Eris pressed his fingertips against his lips. “They’re trying to get into Rhysand’s territory.”

“Yes,” Elain agreed. She knew why, of course. They believed he held the Cauldron. Eris narrowed his eyes. 

“What will it take for you to trust me?”

“Centuries, I would imagine,” she replied blithely. “I don’t believe you wouldn’t let them drag me off if it suited your goals.” Elain pushed past him, intending to leave Eris standing there alone in the hall, to tell Lucien everything. Eris’s hoarse voice stopped her. “I tried to stop him—the last time.”

Elain turned slowly. She had no idea what Eris was talking about. “Why didn’t you?”

Shame flooded Eris’s expression. “Beron, I mean. I was sent away, I…I should have known it was a diversion. I truly thought Beron would let them leave. You don’t understand…” Eris trailed off for a moment. “It solved his problem when it came to Lucien. One less son to consider, one less brother vying for the throne. I was naive…I thought he’d be glad to see Lucien leave.”

Oh Gods, she thought softly. Eris was going to tell her something Lucien had never shared, something no one had ever told her. It was a violation. She ought to have stopped Eris. Elain couldn’t help herself.

“Maybe you hoped for that, too.”

“I didn’t,” Eris said, surging forward, one hand thrown out to stop her from leaving. “I wanted him to marry her, I swear—”

Elain shook her head, forcing her expression to betray nothing but condemnation. “Are you sure, Eris?”

His anguish unmasked him, made his own hollow, empty darkness so obvious. There was no amusement, no sneering nobility. Only a male who had bore centuries of horrors and was crumbling beneath his guilt. “When I learned, I wrote to Tamlin and begged him to give Lucien sanctuary.”

“Does Lucien know this?” 

“No,” Eris rasped. “He believes me complicit…that I wanted to see her die.”

“And did you?” 

Eris shook his head. “Beron should have killed Lucien if someone had to be punished. She…she was an innocent.”

Elain meant to turn her back on him, haughty in her judgment. Eris knew it, saw what she felt burning in her eyes. “There were six of them,” he whispered, so soft she barely heard him. “And only one of me. I lost three brothers that day and I have not forgotten it.”

Eris looked as if he might shatter, as if those words were something he’d only ever dared to think. Elain closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Tell me you’ve come to help.”

“I came to get you out,” he whispered into her neck. “Father would kill you just as easily as he’d killed her. I cannot stand it.”

Elain rose up on her tip toes and kissed Eris’s cheek. That was what she’d seen, earlier in the week. Their shared grief and guilt, the knowledge they’d failed their siblings through inaction and ignorance. Maybe it hadn’t been malicious, but someone was still hurt and someone had to carry that blame.  “I’ll meet Gunnar tonight on one condition. Well, two, I suppose.”

“Name them.”

“Don’t let him take me somewhere you can’t see,” Elain said immediately. Eris nodded, smoothing his hands against his jacket when she stepped out of his embrace.

“And the other?” Just like that, his mask of nobility had slipped right back over his face.

“Forgive yourself, Eris.”

His mouth fell open, eyes filling with some emotion she couldn’t read. “I’ll keep you safe.”

Elain swallowed.

“I know you will.”

LUCIEN: 

Lucien didn’t want to be at this party. He didn’t want to watch Elain and Eris, dressed in complementary shades of green, dance about the glimmering marble floors like prince and princess of Rask beneath that massive crystal chandelier. He couldn’t stand the hungry way Gunnar kept his eyes on Elain’s lithe body, eyes roving the smooth curves that her off-the-shoulder dress clung to. 

“Lucien Vanserra,” breathed a familiar voice. “You owe me money.”

Lucien glanced over at Arina, Day Courts wiliest scholar. More politician than anything, her presence signaled nothing positive. Not that Lucien didn’t know he was in deep shit with the arrival of Eris. He sighed.

“You knew I wasn’t good for it.”

“Maybe I’ll pawn it off your wife,” Arina teased. “She’s surprisingly sweet. How did you convince her to marry you?”

“She took pity on me, as I’m sure you could have guessed,” Lucien agreed. “Speaking of, I think I need to steal her from my brother before he gets her so drunk she can’t stand.”

Arina waved him off, her eyes lingering on his brother. Lucien didn’t dare considering why, not when she’d have to compete with Hilda of Rask. Instead, he merely cut into the dance between his mate and Eris without preamble or apology.

“Spoil all my fun, why don’t you?” Eris grumbled while Elain grinned. 

“Jealous?” she taunted, her cheeks deliciously flushed.

Was he so obvious? He opened his mouth to argue when he caught that sparkle in her eyes. Teasing. She was merely giving him a difficult time. “Hardly,” he lied. “I merely can’t stand the sight of you making Eris so happy. What are the two of you laughing about, anyway?”

“He is telling me the most delightful stories of you as a boy,” Elain replied, pulled close to his body, the scent of her exertion was maddening. The salt of her sweat combined with the usual sweetness of her skin offered the most tantalizing hint as to what her arousal might smell like. Lucien tugged her closer still, one hand on the curve of her waist, the other laced through her fingers. The steps were second nature, were as easy as breathing. Better, he thought with dizzying amazement. Elain moved with a fluid grace, like she floated in the luminescent air. 

“What stories is he telling?” Lucien asked, his voice too breathless to be the mocking sneer he’d wanted her to hear. Elain looked up through those thick, dark lashes and fuck what was wrong with him? Lucien cleared his throat.

“He says you’re afraid of heights—”

“You knew that,” Lucien interrupted impatiently. Not with her or her enjoyment at his discomfort but his own reaction to her nearness. She was in his bed. Why did the sight of her obvious joy make him feel so undone, so tightly wound he might combust? 

Bond, it’s just the bond, he lied, clenching his teeth so hard his jaw ached. The music slipped from one song to the other and Lucien didn’t let her go, not when other partners swapped out, just as breathless as him and Elain. Marcellus was coming towards him and Lucien knew the asshole was going to want to talk about going to the border, of showing them what had happened. Lucien swallowed the growl.

“Go,” Elain murmured, disentangling herself from his arms. “I’m sure Eris has more stories about your blanky.”Lucien spluttered a stammering non-response, noting Elain’s bright delight when she realized Eris had not made that up. Eris sauntered over, two crystal goblets of wine in hand, and offered one to Elain. He dipped his head, speaking words so quiet Lucien couldn’t hear over the playing orchestra. Elain grinned and Lucien couldn’t deny what he felt.

Burning, all-consuming, overwhelming jealousy. They were so at ease, so jovial and friendly. He’d spent five years trying to get her to relax around him and Eris could sweep in and in the span of a week had managed what Lucien never could. Elain’s easy touches, her pleased smiles…her laughter.

“Vanserra,” Marcellus snapped. “Do you have a moment?”

He really didn’t and yet could he do? Demand Elain not talk to his weasely, two-faced brother? Lucien turned his back and swallowed the ache, the hurt, the everything roiling around within him. The thought that his mate preferred his older brother made him feel wildly inadequate. She didn’t mind him because he was a Vanserra, then. She only minded it was him.

“Have you considered coming to the border with me?” Marcellus began, walking Lucien towards the far table where piles of food and wine sat, far from the dancing and the merriment.

“I have,” Lucien replied dryly, pouring himself a near full glass. 

Marcellus was clearly irritated, waiting on Lucien’s response. “And?”

Lucien shrugged, practically pouring the wine down his throat like it was a shot of liquor. “You haven’t told me the purpose. I was there when our own wall fell, I am aware of the ramifications.”

“I would think you’d like to see the conditions of the mortals,” Marcellus replied casually. Testing. Lucien didn’t dare look at him as he shrugged again, instead pinning his gaze on Arina, floating towards him in a bright gown of teal.

“I don’t particularly care.”

Marcellus’s lips curled upwards. “No? And here I was thinking you didn’t want us to invade.”

“I don’t,” Lucien replied. “Another war would be costly and messy and send the wrong message to our own home which is still rebuilding. I don’t want to be drafted into another war to quell a human uprising. What I want is some fucking peace.”

“Come to the border with Gunnar,” Marcellus murmured. “Let us show Prythian what peace—and alliance—could look like.”

Lucien looked over at the blonde male. “Okay,” he agreed. “No females.”

“A wise decision,” Marcellus agreed with a smile, just in time for Arina to snag Lucien’s elbow.

“Can I steal Lord Vanserra?” she asked, her voice easy despite her tight eyes. Marcellus nodded, the picture of courtly grace.

“All yours, lady.”

Arina wrapped her arm through his. “Where is Elain?” she questioned softly, drawing him across the open ballroom like two lovers taking a leisurely stroll.

“With my…brother…” Lucien trailed off as his eyes swept the room. His fleeting victory with Marcellus was immediately dampened when he realized neither of them were dancing. There was no laughter, no touching…they’d left. Lucien’s jealousy was an out of control monster, forcing his steps to quicken as he strolled out of the ballroom.

Lucien froze at the end of the hall, pivoting to turn towards the steps that would lead him to his bedroom. Elain, eyes closed, hands gripping Gunnar’s tunic, was pressed against the wall. The King himself had one hand pressed against the papered surface just beside her, half caging her with his body. His mouth covered hers, his free hand holding her face, fingers carding through her hair. Elain wasn’t kissing him back but she wasn’t moving, either. She looked asleep.

Arina grabbed Lucien’s arm to keep him from walking in on it, hand pressed to her mouth. Lucien, mouth dry, could only watch his mate allow whatever was taking place to occur. Gunnar tilted her head, pulling his mouth back for a moment. Elain gasped as if she’d been holding her breath.

“Come upstairs with me,” Gunnar whispered. Elain blinked her eyes, lips parted. Lucien’s stomach slapped wetly at his feet. She was going to agree, was letting him take her hand–

“Elain!” Eris snapped, breathless and disheveled. “Come here.”

Elain blinked again, blowing out a breath. Gunnar’s lip curled over his teeth but Elain darted beneath his arm, all but throwing herself in Eris’s arms. “Your majesty?” she asked, as if she couldn’t quite understand what she was looking at.

“Vanserra,” Gunnar snarled. Eris, holding Elain against his chest, offered Gunnar a cool, calculating look.

“Your wife is looking for you.”

And then, without another word, Eris swept Elain away. Gunnar’s growl of frustration bounced off the high, arched ceilings. Lucien grabbed Arina, pulling her into the light, his face utterly casual as they began walking. Gunnar rounded the corner, steps halting for a moment. Lucien’s eyes slid to his face, the picture of ignorant civility. 

It was Arina who stilled, who dropped into a soft bow. “Majesty,” she murmured. 

He merely nodded curtly before stepping past them. Arina watched, head inclined.

“What was that?” she whispered when he left.

What, indeed?

#elucien #elucien fan fic #elain x lucien #elucien fanfiction #surprise! #i was thinking about this fic last night #plotting it out in my head #thought why not

[the-darkestminds]

If anyone is interested, I posted my new Eris/lucien one-shot fic to my blog (and ao3). It features jesminda’s death, eris’s punishment for disobeying and Lucien’s escape from autumn + pain and suffering + Tamlin holding Lucien 🥺

Will be eternally grateful to anyone who reads it 🥹❤️

My other (very short) Eris POV fic is here!

#sarah j maas #sjm #Lucien #lucien vanserra #pro lucien vanserra #Vanserra brothers #eris #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris angst #headcanon #acotar #lucien acotar #Lucien pov #Eris pov #soft Eris Vanserra #elucien #a court of thorns and roses #Eris vanserra fan fic #pro lucien #acowar #acomaf #a court of wings and ruin #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #acosf #gwynriel

[ataraxiasflame]

Chapter 4 is up!

“Are you always this stubborn? Or is this some unique reaction that I alone inspire within you?” Elain could sense his ire building. They hadn’t even left the property of the river house and they were already annoying each other.

“Don’t assume yourself to be so special that you’re capable of effecting me so uniquely. I merely want you to answer my question.”

Lucien exhaled again, then shook his head. His tone dripped with sarcasm as he explained. “My lady, please would you accompany me beyond the wards of the Night Court to ease the impact that winnowing will have on my strength if we attempt to winnow through them from here. This will allow us to winnow further, covering more distance, thereby giving us the opportunity to return as soon as possible.” Lucien completed the final words of his sarcastic speech with a bow and an outstretched hand.

Elain wanted to throw her shoe at him, but right now, she couldn’t afford to sacrifice the only pair of shoes she had left. She picked up her pack, suddenly questioning whether she indeed needed everything inside the heavy luggage if he was this determined to return tomorrow already, then stalked toward him. “You’re a bastard, you know that?”

Lucien smiled broadly as she approached him. “Actually, I do know that. But thank you for the reminder.”

#lucien vanserra #elucien #pro elucien #elain archeron #pro lucien vanserra #pro elain archeron #elucien supremacy #nesta archeron #elucien fan fic rec #elucien fic

[historiaxvanserra]

Are Elain and Azriel going to be a couple in Le Temps Viendra?

I think the Gwynriel ship and Elucien ship would add even more to the story.

Gwyneth spying as in working like a maid for the reader while also reporting to Azriel. The night court would be sure of the reader staying safe.

Elain seeing future events that might occur (since she often sees things near Lucien) and 2 sisters per Court would be cool so none of them would be lonely.

Lucien returning to Autumn because he’s Elaine’s mate and Elaine is the readers sister. As he arrives he gathers intel and helps his mother escape Beron‘s clutches.

Also Lucienx reader banter would be funny while eris hopes their relationship would be like this

Okay, first thank you for asking! I love talking about this fic! Apologises in advance for the total essay but I couldn’t resist.🖤🥀

So, in ‘if I can’t have love I want power’ we see that reader and Az have this weird thing going on. They do care about eachother but it’s not romantic in any sense of the word. He’s using her because he can’t have Elain and she’s using him to cope with her feelings. Naturally Azriel becomes quite possessive and reader ends their arrangement.

And then later on it’s very heavily implied that in the months between the ball in Hewn City and the main story Elain and Azriel have something going on. I don’t ever know we’ll see what exactly that is.

I think the endgame will be Elucien as it fits more with the story to have Elain and Lucien be together. It’s purely selfish because I want to explore the brotherly relationship between Eris and Lucien which means we’ll see far more of Lucien than Azriel. (And I think Lucien and this reader would get on very well)

I think readers relationships with the sisters are quite difficult where she struggles to reconcile her new life with the life she lost and lashes out as a result. So her healing those relationships is important so I suppose that’s where Elain might come into it as her and Elain seem to be the closest.

I don’t think we’ll see Gwyn in this story unfortunately. Reader will be going to the Autumn Court alone, and the only person she knows there is Eris so they’re either going to have to trust eachother and support one another or go it alone. The whole point of the autumn court is quite insulated, and I think it’s where the reader will thrive, far away from the Night Court and all of the issues she has with them, in a court where power is nurtured not coveted.

I don’t know if you caught it but reader isn’t a particularly big fan of Rhysand or what Feyre has become so I just think she’s ready to make her own life in a court that values her for all that she is, not just what she can give them.

#writing an essay about my own fan fiction because I’m cool #seriously I love talking about this fic so feel free to ask away #a smidge of Rhys slander #le temps viendra #eris vanserra

[ramim]

Elucien; In love or not?

So first of all, I am not an Elucien shipper; I am currently waiting to see what sort of plot SJM has cooked up!

But, when I read Elucien fanfictions (to get more content on Lucien), one thing the bugs me a lot is the fact that some of the writers like to write Lucien as this lovesick person who is already far in love with Elain.

Well, let me disagree with you with utmost respect.

I believe, as humans who have no understanding of the ways of fearies, we are unable to comprehend the real meaning behind a bond. But considering we can guess, here we go:

Even though it was canonically confirmed that the pull of the bond is stronger for males, it was never confirmed that they feel any sort of love; I believe it's more of a need rather than love. it's like a rope, tying them together and even though the rope gives Lucien less freedom to move around, he still can think for himself; so even though he is drawn to Elain, he's not in love with her.

Lucien is a rational person; I believe he doesn't fall fast for people, but when he does, he falls hard and even though the bond is pulling on him, he probably can distinguish between the effect of the bond and the love from within his soul.

They don't know each other; this important point often is brought up by antis but it's important nonetheless. even though I don't approve of Elain's former relationship (Greyson) and believe that she probably was too much of a romantic to see Greyson for what he was, she has grown a lot ever since and she is not going to fall in love blindly this time! And Lucien is too old to fall in love with a person he has never had an actual conversation with before and has seen her a few handfuls of times. So, starting an Elucien fic by a lovesick Lucien is not really a good idea.

If anything, ever happens between Lucien and Elain, it's so slow that it probably makes our skin wrinkled and our hair grey! Those two have a lot to learn about each other and they need to first deal with their own trauma (either separately or together); so, no love for them, until they at least become friends!

I think at this point both of them have trust issues; Elain has lost the love of her life to prejudice against Fea and her human life was ripped away from her just to be thrown into a mating bond situation which canonically we know is a lot to take even for the fearies themselves. Lucien has lost two homes already, had his lover murdered in front of him, was betrayed by his best friend, he was sexually assaulted as a result of that betrayal; he then faced an unwanted mating bond, which considering he believed he had already lost his mate, is a lot to take! so until they find a way to heal through these things, I don't think any of them is going to actually fall in love!

of course, anyone can write anything they want as long as it's not insulting or triggering, and these are just a few musings I constantly have when I'm reading Elucien fan fiction. it's just that I believe the beauty of Elucien's ship is the slow build-up, the mutual friendship and understanding and the agonizingly cluelessness of this two while interacting with each other.

#lucien vanserra #lucien acotar #lucien #acotar #acomaf #acofas #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and embers #a court of silver flames #elain archeron #elain acotar #elain x lucien #pro lucien vanserra #pro lucien #elucian #elucien