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vulpes-fennec · 9 months

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Love on Water Lilies 🪷 (Ch 3)

Summary: Prince Lucien Vanserra of the Autumn Kingdom is all play, no work. Elain Archeron, a waitress and aspiring restaurant owner in the city of Colibri, is all work, no play. Caught in a larger scheme of politics and war, Lucien and Elain are turned into frogs. Will Elain get her restaurant back? Will Lucien ever become Fae again?

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Elain’s stomach was gurgling, but she’d sooner work another brunch shift at Roy’s Cafe than admit she was hungry first. She’d been watching Lucien steer their raft for the last half hour, waiting for him to call for a break. Yet the prince showed no signs of stopping for lunch.

Lucien stood on his hind legs, which were long and muscled, just like the legs of his Fae form. His thighs flexed every time he bent slightly at the knee, his upper body pushing the stick into the water with strong, fluid motions. Even as a frog, Lucien was handsome: his skin a vibrant mint green and his underbelly a tan brown. The color green suited him, and so did the thick olive stripe that ran down the center of his sturdy back, framed by ridges of raised skin.

Though her animosity towards him had abated slightly after his apology, Elain still felt peeved that Lucien refused to give her the riverfront pavilion until the curse was broken. The matching gold band tattooed onto her arm was a constant reminder of her dues. Bargain-bound to a prince of Autumn who inconveniently held all the cards in his palm was the last thing Elain wanted to deal with. And now she was feeling extra cranky thanks to hunger.

Lucien abruptly stopped the raft.

“Why’d you stop?” Elain scanned the slow-moving waters ahead for predators. Though Lucien possessed fire powers, she wasn’t keen on seeing how they’d fare in a watery environment.

“It’s lunchtime.” Lucien pointed at the swarm of gnats buzzing over the water.

“No,” Elain gasped, horrified. The bzzt-bzzt sound from the cloud was more noticeable now, likely due to her frog form’s hunting instincts. Utterly disgusting.

“Food is food, princess.” Lucien shrugged carelessly. “A frog’s gotta eat.”

“I am not going to eat a bug!” she cried, even though her stomach made a loud protest just at that moment. But Lucien wasn’t listening to her. He set the oar down and positioned himself on all fours, eyes focused on the gnats with predatory interest.

A long, magenta pink tongue darted out between his lips experimentally, the tip of it sticky and slick under the hot morning sun. Elain was held hostage by a fascinated revulsion as Lucien’s tongue shot into the cloud of bugs. It subsequently recoiled back into his mouth with such force that he fell off the boat. Splash!

Elain couldn’t help but giggle.

“This is harder than it looks.” Lucien was rather good-natured as he swam back to the raft.

Elain instinctively held an arm out for him, realizing only when Lucien’s slimy hand gripped hers that she had helped him up the raft. He’s not your friend, she reminded herself, acutely aware of how his webbed fingers slotted against hers. He took everything away from you, remember? Unaware of Elain’s inner turmoil, Lucien tried again. The prince managed to roll his tongue back into his mouth without falling off the raft, but still failed to catch any bugs.

“I assure you, my tongue is normally far more skilled than this.” Lucien shot Elain a cocky grin when he caught her staring. He puffed his vocal sac, announcing himself to his lunch with a loud ribbet.

“You are disgusting,” Elain rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to hear about what your tongue can do.” Lucien tried again, and this time, a speckle of a gnat came zinging back at him. Elain wore a scrunched-up look of disgust on her face when the gnat disappeared into his mouth.

“A little tangy. Not very filling,” Lucien mused, looking up quizzically as he parsed out the subtle flavors of gnat. “But you might as well give it a try.”

“No, thank you,” Elain said primly, crossing her legs delicately from where she sat. Lucien went back to aiming his tongue into the gnat cloud, each attempt more successful than the last. His russet and gold eyes gleamed with challenge and victory, his energy picking up with each successful catch. The prince seemed to be enjoying himself, at least.

“I’m quite surprised a prince like you would eat insects.” Elain made a little raspberry blegh sound when Lucien caught three gnats in one go.

“Why not? The best part about traveling is trying new things. When else will I eat bugs, if not in frog form?”

“You could just resolve to never eat bugs,” Elain offered. A gnat! How unfulfilling. She longed for a warm plate of biscuits, chicken with a generous dusting of spices, and well-seasoned greens. Not paltry insects!

Lucien smacked his lips, and peered at something behind Elain’s shoulder. “There’s a fat dragonfly right behind you. Move a little to the left, won’t you?”

Elain let out a terrified cry and covered her eyes.

“I don’t want to see you eat it,” she shrieked, covering her eyes. Dragonflies were significantly larger to her when she was a small frog, and as big as Lucien’s mouth was, she was quite sure it wouldn’t fit. The notion of seeing half of a dragonfly tail hanging out of his mouth sent shudders of revulsion through her body.

Lucien burst into pealing laughter.

“I was only joking, Elain,” he chuckled, slapping his thigh. “You should’ve seen your face when I said that…you’re probably the first frog to be repulsed by a dragonfly.” Elain scowled at the amusement dancing in Lucien’s eyes.

“I don’t see why we have to eat bugs just because we are frogs,” she grumbled. “Surely there are more things available in the bayou.”

“Frogs are supposed to eat bugs. You’re the spoiled one,” Lucien teased. “Miss froggy here cannot deign to eat a couple insects, and yet she calls herself a chef. Do her refined tastes only accept the cream of the crop, fresh berries and fish?”

Elain glared at the prince, feeling her face heat with embarrassment. Lucien was unfortunately right about several things, but she didn’t want to admit it. The crooked, wide smirk on his mottled green face was truly infuriating.

“If you’re done eating, stop talking and start rowing. Or else I’m going to push you off the raft.”

—

At some point in the afternoon, Elain had taken up rowing. The shorter length of the stick forced her to keep to shallow waters, which was fine by her. Who knew what kind of creatures lurked in the depths? Alligators, massive fish, snakes, wraiths, and pixies would be eager to nab two frogs as an afternoon snack. She missed the safety that came with being High Fae. Although High Fae weren’t at the top of the food chain, it was still better than being a vulnerable little frog in a big swamp.

The sky had turned overcast, depriving her of the sun’s path. Swampy waters stretched as far as her eyes could see. The shadowy depths seemed to hold secrets, the still surfaces a warning to those who dared to disturb them. Small deltas rose up, interspersed with mangrove and bushy hedges.

Meanwhile, Lucien was chilling on his back, hands tucked behind his head and humming softly under his breath. The prince could hold a tune, Elain begrudgingly admitted, and the lilting melody was hauntingly beautiful.

“What song is that?” she asked, when he finished. Lucien lazily opened his eyes, one russet, the other gold.

“An Autumn folk song,” Lucien replied. “My mother used to sing it to me before bed.”

“It’s nice,” Elain offered awkwardly. Queen Daphne Vanserra must have loved her sons very much, if she tucked them into bed instead of leaving the task to palace servants. Mama never did such a thing for us…

“That’s unfortunate,” Lucien said. “How long ago…?”

“Sorry?”

“Your mother is no longer alive, right?” Lucien leaned back onto his elbows, eyeing her acutely.

“Yes…how did you know?”

“You’re very easy to read,” was all Lucien responded with. Elain frowned, unsure of what to make of his statement. Why does he want to know?

“It was twelve years ago,” Elain decided to say. “I was eleven years old.”

“And your relationship with her?”

“I thought you said I was very easy to read,” Elain replied, her words slightly clipped. Females are very easy to read, was probably what Lucien had wanted to say. The frog prince quirked his lips.

“Some things I don’t know, Elain.”

Elain pushed the raft along, trying to form the right words. “I don’t miss her that much. She was…an absent parent,” she responded after a while. Lucien only nodded, his expression devoid of the pity that strangers typically showed her.

“So you’re twenty-three years old?” Lucien mused. “So serious, for a lady so young.”

“Well, how old are you?” Elain countered. If her knowledge of Prythian courts remained intact after many years out of school, Lucien couldn’t be older than forty. The Autumn Queen was slightly younger than her father, and had birthed the Autumn princes decades apart instead of the quick succession of the Archeron siblings.

“Guess.” Lucien smirked.

“Two hundred,” Elain smiled, hoping to wipe that smug expression off his face. “At least.”

Lucien exhaled loudly, shaking his head. “Shit, Elain, I’m not that old. I’m only twenty-nine.”

Elain sniffed, turning back around. “Somehow, that makes sense, given your party boy lifestyle.” She knew Lucien’s bulging eyes rolling at her absurd remark, but he did not respond, probably because he knew she was right.

She continued to paddle, trying to follow the subtle current downstream. The Bog of Oorid was like a giant, slow-moving river that flowed towards the sea at a snail’s pace. The hot summer air was oppressively muggy, even from a frog’s perspective. And the slime—mucus—on her webbed hands made her grip slick.

Breathe, Elain, breathe, she told herself. It was like a sodden towel had been wrapped around her face, her shoulders, her legs. The humidity weighed down on her every movement. Dip, stroke, lift. Dip, stroke, lift.

It was getting harder to see—when did the mist roll in? Elain blinked rapidly, trying to refocus her rapidly deteriorating vision. But it was futile. Breathe, Elain, breathe. A light-headed sensation began to prickle the edges of her consciousness, sending panic coursing through her veins. What’s happening?

The bayou was gone.

Elain only had time to stutter a faint “L-l-lucien?” before she felt herself falling backwards.

Shadows, howling and shrieking, slipped off a wooden dock. The muddy waters were tinged black as they moved, like ink spilled from a pot, swirling around stones and under tree roots.

Lucien, still in frog form, being pulled under the water. His green hand, straining for the skies, disappearing under the rippling surface. Was she…was she crying? She was certainly screaming. The prince wasn’t going down without a fight, from the way the dark water churned and splashed, but—

“Wake up! Elain, wake up!” The commanding baritone of a male voice called from somewhere far away. “Wake! Up!”

Elain gasped upon feeling water hit her face.

She was flat on her back, something hard underneath her. A cloudy sky swirled above, but everything seemed piercingly bright. Elain blinked. Mismatched, bulging eyes stared down at her, and the massive green mouth—a tad too close to her face—was pursed in a frown. Why is there a frog leaning over me?

Oh, right. Lucien is a frog.

And he was holding a clam shell filled with water, poised to throw it on her face again.

“Enough!” Elain sputtered, trying to sit up, but it was too late. She received a mouthful of brackish water. “Stop!”

“Cauldron, Elain,” Lucien said, sitting back on his heels without a shred of remorse for the last throw. “Are you alright?” He made a throaty sound akin to a tsk-tsk and shook his head. “This is what you get for not eating the gnats. You don’t keep your energy up, and you end up fainting while on paddling duty.”

“I’m fine,” Elain mumbled, trying to ground herself in her surroundings. She rubbed her face with a sticky webbed hand. Lucien is a frog. I am also a frog. The raft listed gentling under her, bobbing on smooth waters. The smells of humidity, vegetation, and fish. I’m in a bayou…I have a slimy green body, a long tongue…

“You keep your little head down,” Lucien continued to chatter away, rambling about energy deficits and amphibian diets. He had grasped the stick and begun pushing them to a large island, its beaches silty and edged with mangroves. “...can’t travel any further with a fainting frogette, can we?”

“I’ll be fine,” Elain groaned again, though she did not feel fine at all. Was that a hallucination, or some sort of premonition? I don’t have any magic, unless I’m counting the “green thumb” Nesta and Feyre claim I possess. It couldn’t be magic…most Fae children come into their powers by the age of thirteen.

“Nonsense. Come on, let’s get onto dry land. Or do I need to carry you to shore too?” Lucien had tied their raft to a curling mangrove root, having steered them into a particularly cozy alcove. A couple hops away from them was a flat expanse of rock, shielded from the elements by two mossy logs leaning against each other. Elain supposed that would be home, sweet home for the night.

“I’m not a damsel in distress,” Elain muttered. But her legs wobbled unsteadily when she stood up, forcing her to hold her arms out for balance.

“Alright, suit yourself, princess,” Lucien said, but his hand still hovered near elbow as she tottered to the raft’s edge. Elain managed to hop onto the mangrove root without falling into the water, well aware that Lucien was close behind. She crawled along the smooth root, clutching the sides as she moseyed onto dry land.

The shore’s cool stone was a relief against her too-hot skin. Elain curled on her side with a huff, trying to ignore the stomach pangs that were stabbing her insides every few seconds. She was so, so tired. Of course I am tired, she rationalized, feeling a bit better after admitting that. Too often Elain was trying to convince herself otherwise so she could rally for the next shift of work. Lucien was no help in the morning, snoring away as I struggled to lash the raft together. I spent half the day rowing. I haven’t eaten anything since last night. But maybe a quick nap will stave off hunger until we reach sweet, sweet civilization again…

Elain’s eyes flew open at the sound of wet smacking against stone. Mere inches away from her a minnow was flopping back and forth, gasping for air. As High Fae, the minnow would have been no larger than the length of Elain’s finger. But as a frog, they were as massive as river carp.

She sat up, blinking groggily. She must have dozed off, for twilight had fallen and a small fire was crackling merrily over a bundle of sticks. Elain’s gaze drifted about, finding Lucien standing on his hind legs in shallow waters. The frog prince was watching something very closely, and his long legs, bent slightly at the knees, were tense as he leaned forward.

Faster than Elain could comprehend, the prince snatched a minnow from the water using only his webbed hands. Lucien threw it onto the rock, leaving it to writhe and flop with the other minnow as he swooped down and caught another minnow.

“How did you do that?” Elain asked in amazement when Lucien walked back towards her, dragging the four minnows by the tail. She had never seen a High Fae catch fish with their bare hands. Seeing a frog catch fish was equally fascinating. Lucien sat by the fire and proceeded to use a jagged bit of rock to clean the fish.

“I spent a lot of time exploring Autumn’s woods,” Lucien said, flashing her a wide grin. “Catching fish is an essential survival skill all younglings learn.”

“I suppose cleaning it would be easier with a real knife,” Elain mused, inching closer to watch Lucien scrape the scales off, saw off the heads, and remove the bones and guts. Crouching on all fours was oddly comfortable, with her long legs neatly tucked against her belly. She tried not to think about how frog-like she had become in less than 24 hours.

“It’s about the artist, not the tools,” Lucien remarked, twirling the rock shard expertly between his fingers. He fitted the filet onto a sharpened stick and turned it slowly over the fire, ensuring the filet was cooked evenly without charring.

“Sounds like something my sister would say,” Elain murmured. Lucien looked up, his expression one of interest.

“You have a sister?”

“Two,” Elain elaborated after a slight hesitation. Who was she to be opening up to an Autumn prince, who had taken everything from her? “Feyre, she’s younger by two years. She’s an artist. And I have an older sister…Nesta.”

“Enjoy, princess.” Lucien handed Elain the stick with steaming hot fish. Elain blew delicately, before nibbling at the edge. Without a full set of teeth, she could only use the hard rim of her mouth and her tongue to “bite” the filet.

The minnow was insanely fresh, and tasted lean and fishy, just like a trout. Just about the tastiest thing Elain had eaten in a long time, or maybe she was just hungry. Elain scarfed it down, the heat singeing her tongue.

Her belly finally stopped aching, her spirits were lifted.

“Not bad for a spoiled rich prince,” she said to Lucien. “Thank you.”

“See? I can be nice.” Lucien was already roasting the next filet. “By the way, I have three older brothers.”

“I know.”

“Quite the fan, are you?” Lucien teased.

“Don’t be so full of yourself, Lucien,” Elain retorted.

“Cauldron, I’m only trying to be conversational,” Lucien sighed, shaking his head with mock disappointment. “This is your chance to ask a real prince questions, yet you don’t want to know anything?” Elain glanced at the frog prince, casually sitting on a toadstool and roasting fish like he was any regular male going camping. His self-sufficiency had exceeded her expectations—not that they were high to begin with.

“Well if you’re opening yourself up to questions, who’s going to be the next Autumn King?” Elain asked. For each kingdom’s ruler was determined by power, not by line of succession. The heir often displayed tell-tale signs from an early age, marking of power that indicated the land’s choice as steward.

“Eris,” Lucien replied, a little too quickly. Elain’s eyes focused on his webbed foot, tapping against the stone subtly. The prince wasn’t being truthful. “Hmmm this fish smells a little plain. If only there was a rosemary bush, or a basil plant nearby,” Lucien said, trying to change the subject.

“Is he?” Elain pressed on. “What are your plans within the court, then?”

Lucien shrugged, handing her another stick with freshly cooked fish. “I don’t really have any plans. I’d be happy to just coast my way through life, enjoying what it has to offer.” Elain took the fish, but frowned. “What?”

“What?”

“You seem displeased,” Lucien pointed out.

She was. Of course Lucien had the sort of lifestyle that enabled him to drink Fae wine and party with courtiers until daybreak. Meanwhile, she had to juggle multiple jobs ever since she was sixteen. Such was the difference in their station, yet the two of them were sitting inches away, sharing a meal. It was hard not to feel a bit resentful with the prince’s cavalier attitude towards his future.

“I’m not,” Elain lied, opting to take a bite of fish so she had an excuse not to talk. “If you could change one impression people have of you, what would it be?”

“People assuming I’m a spoiled, rich, party prince.” Lucien’s mouth quirked up.

“Well, now you’re just making fun of me,” Elain scowled.

“I haven’t been to a party in nearly two days, Elain. I think it’s ample proof I can survive without one.” Lucien gestured at the wilderness around them. “It is exhausting when people only associate with me because of my rank and wealth. What about you?”

Elain blinked, unsure of what to say. I wish they saw just beyond my looks, she wanted to say. A pretty face certainly helped with tips. Countless males, many of them rich, had tried to court her. And while Elain had considered marrying them to lift her family out of poverty, her suitors never cared about her interests nor her dreams. She would be marrying a cardboard cutout, destined for a loveless eternity. Would that make her selfish? To value her own happiness over her family’s livlihood?

But if she vocalized her true thoughts, Lucien would only consider her vain. And maybe he’d even laugh, if he didn’t think she was particularly attractive. So Elain changed the subject.

“That’s what happened to me.” Lucien cocked his stout head to the side, curious. “People associating with me because of my social status. We used to live in a nice house, with servants and gardens and parties almost every day. But when my father lost his leg in the war, he stopped working. We fell into poverty, and realized that many of our old ‘friends’ did not actually care about us.” Elain’s voice hardened with bitterness.

“Vassa was the only friend I had left. She didn’t care that I was poor, or that our reputation was abysmal.”

“True friends are important,” Lucien responded. “You haven’t met him yet, but my best friend is Jurian. You’d probably like him, he’s the responsible one. In some ways.” Lucien gave her a wry smile.

They sat in silence as they polished off the rest of Lucien’s fish. He didn’t touch on the rest of her story about her father, and Elain couldn’t tell if he pitied her, or if he simply didn’t care.

The darkness enveloping them suddenly made Elain claustrophobic. What kinds of creatures had set their eyes on them, waiting for the ripe moment to pounce? What foreign sounds were concealed by night’s mystery? If she ever made it back to Colibri, she would never take working the evening shift for granted anymore. At least restaurants were warm and bright at night, and alive with chatter and cooking sounds.

The thought of work made Elain yawn deeply. Fatigue from their hectic day settling over her, now that she had a belly full of food. She was ready to call it a night.

“What are you doing?” Lucien asked as Elain scooped up a clamshell full of water.

“Putting out the fire?” she questioned uncertainly. “For safety?”

“I set up wards around us.” Lucien gestured to the skies, and Elain caught a faint glimmer of golden webbing, curving above them like a dome. A simple flick of his sticky fingers generated a filament of gold that joined the existing wards. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh. Alright.” Elain tossed the clamshell away. “Thank you.”

Lucien’s fire lowered into a gentle, glowing flame; small enough for sleep, but steady enough to provide assurance in the oppressive gloom. Elain tucked herself against the mossy log, draping a large leaf over her body.

The silver diamonds of stars shone more vibrantly, the night a jewelry box of constellations and galaxies. Elain spent a few moments scouring the skies before settling on a star that had a more golden glow. Perhaps this star would be a lucky one to cast her wishes. I wish I could make it home. I wish I could get my restaurant back. I wish I was no longer a frog.

Crickets chirped, and water gently lapped the sandy shores. Elain glanced at Lucien, who lay on his back across from her, his hands interlaced over his round belly. The fire pulsated between them, illuminating his somber face. It seemed the prince was staring up at the night sky, wishing on stars, too.

It was like looking at a mirror. He did help me when I had my…episode. And he also cooked me dinner…I suppose I should be a bit more gracious towards him, Elain reflected. Though the words were stuck in her throat, Elain managed to eek out a “good night, Lucien.”

“Good night, Elain,” the prince replied.

***Lucien***

“And see here…we have a water chestnut,” Elain said, pointing to a cluster of straight, green reeds as they drifted by. “Water chestnuts grow in the mud, and we add them to salads and meat dishes. Oh, and this is the highbush blueberry. In my opinion, they taste better than regular blueberries.”

Lucien timed the flick of his tongue carefully, snagging one of the dusky blue fruits that hung from the bush as they passed underneath it.

“They’re sweeter,” he said, with surprise. “The skin is also more delicate. I’d imagine they would bake nicely in a cobbler with fresh cream.”

“That sounds delicious,” Elain sighed. “Oh look, the saltgrass. We must be going in the right direction, if the water is becoming saltier.” She gestured to the thick rows of light green grass stalks that edged the shoreline. Saltgrass looked like any other marsh plant to Lucien, but somehow, Elain could tell the difference. “We often grind it up as seasoning…it’s a bit sour and it goes well in dressings.”

Elain had noticeably perked up when she began talking about the bayou’s vegetation. It had all been prompted with a simple question: Lucien asking what the pink flower was (a swamp rose) and whether it was edible (it was).

She navigated their little raft between lily pads and around fallen logs, narrating like a tour guide as they went. Her large brown eyes sparkled like marbles, her pale green skin glossy under the sunlight. Even the way Elain opened her wide mouth to chatter and the way her entire body turned left-right, left-right, was…kind of cute, Lucien thought.

Cute? A frog? There was no doubt that Elain as High Fae was the most beautiful female Lucien had ever seen…but as a frog? Mother’s tits, what am I thinking?

“You sure know your plants very well,” Lucien said distractedly, running a green hand carelessly across the stalks as they passed.

“Ah…well, the garden was my favorite place,” Elain admitted. Her bright expression dampened a bit, and Lucien could feel his brows lifting with concern. Was…he noted the particular wording she used. The garden she had before they lost everything. “I would spend hours there, laying under the ferns and draping moss, reading books and—” she stopped abruptly, as if realizing she was sharing too much.

“Say it,” Lucien pressed, wanting to hear more. He had a feeling he was smiling, for some strange reason.

“No, you’ll tease me.”

“Now you’ve got me interested,” Lucien chuckled. “Come on. I promise I won’t.”

“Fine,” Elain huffed lightheartedly. “I would pretend I was a squirrel, gathering nuts and fruits and flowers for a hibernation party. We don’t have many squirrels in Summer, it’s too hot for them here.”

Lucien could see it now, a younger version of Elain in her Fae form, with chubby cheeks and honey-brown ringlets tied back with ribbons, crawling under lush canopies and carefully arranging an assortment of tropical fruits and flowers.

Gods, she must have been adorable.

His heart clenched. Not only had he been seized by a sudden interest in her life, he was now fawning over what her childhood self must have been like! Lucien shook his head, driving the thoughts away. He was not one to be caught up in the intricacies of a female’s life, no matter how beautiful she was. And he intended to keep it that way.

“Seems like normal youngling behavior to me,” Lucien responded nonchalantly. “If you come to Autumn, you’ll see plenty of squirrels. Fat brown ones, with bushy tails and beady little eyes.”

“Beady little eyes!” Elain seemed to take offense, placing her webbed hand over her sandy brown chest.

“Oh, they can be aggressive little critters,” Lucien smiled. “One of them bit my finger when I was young. It definitely left a scar.” He held up his left hand and wiggled the froggy appendages.

Elain leaned in, inspecting his hand closely. Close enough for him to catalog the shape of the dark green speckles on her body, the shimmer of her amphibian green skin. Lucien’s breath stopped a little when Elain looked up, her large brown eyes sweet as toffee pudding in the sunlight.

“I don’t see any scar,” she frowned. An odd pang of dismay twinged in Lucien’s chest when Elain moved away to continue rowing. For once, he didn’t have any witty remarks to offer. “What is the Autumn Kingdom like?” she asked, continuing the conversation.

Lucien’s first thought was bleak: a conniving court, with nonsensical adherence to outdated ideas, and Beron’s red-hot anger. His father’s mood swings were temperamental storms: Beron moved between dour coldness and raging inferno. Lucien’s time in the Forest House was spent between seeking refuge in the library and placating his father’s whims.

Would it be terrible for me to open up about how much I hate Autumn?

But Elain’s bright expression…no, he couldn’t douse that optimism.

“It’s a beautiful place,” was what Lucien said instead. “The trees of the forests produce red, orange, and yellow leaves. A vibrant sea of living flame.” Lucien summoned a bit of fire in his palm for dramatic effect.

“Our valleys are fertile, our farmlands in a perpetual state of harvest.” He inclined his head towards Elain. “Similar to the fields of Summer. Dryden—our capital city—is in the heart of our largest forest. But instead of clearing trees, my ancestors integrated themselves into the existing ecosystem. Our citizens live and work within an interconnecting network of trees and stones, not unlike the squirrels you pretended to be.”

Elain giggled at Lucien’s jest, the tinkling sound of her laugh making Lucien smile instinctively. “I would like to go to Autumn someday, then,” she sighed, staring across the marsh. Lucien perked up.

“Then come visit,” he offered. Come visit me, he wanted to say. “I’ll give you a special tour.”

Elain rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you say that to every female, Lucien. But thank you for the offer.” Fuck, that was a rejection, isn’t it? Or maybe she’s being polite with her refusal? Lucien scrambled for a response.

“I’m being entirely serious, princess.” Elain stared at him, slightly confused. Then she snorted.

“As if you could ever be serious while calling me princess,” she replied amusedly. Her gaze turned forlorn again. “Perhaps. If we ever become Fae again. And once I get my restaurant up and running smoothly.”

Speaking of which, Lucien couldn’t wait to become Fae again. Life as a frog was precarious, he learned, even while armed with powers. He’d bragged that he’d gone two days without going to parties, but of course he was a bit salty that he was missing out on all the festivities. He could be indulging in rich Summer fare and dancing the night away at Mardi Gras parties.

Perhaps if they switched back soon enough, he could take Elain to a Mardi Gras party. Show her a bit of fun, maybe even get to know her better.

There goes my imagination again. Stop being delusional, Lucien. Lucien averted his eyes from the female frog who was steadily rowing in front of him.

Elain is just starting to warm up to me, and bringing her to a party would only confirm her worst impressions of me. Besides, I’m an ugly frog, covered in mucus and warts. If she wasn’t head over heels when I was High Fae, she sure as hell won’t be into me now.

One minute Lucien was glancing down into the silty waters, resentfully staring at the foreign frog face that had become so familiar to him. The next minute, a dark wisp curled around his leg, almost in a lazy lover’s caress. And then the shadow turned corporeal, gripping his ankle like an iron clamp.

“Elain!” his voice gurgled as the shadow yanked him off the raft and into the water.

“Lucien!” came her muffled shout. Down, down, down into the muddy river bed the shadow dragged him. Lucien fought, twisting and pulling and paddling and kicking, but to no avail. The fluid darkness towed him along, kicking up silt and knocking him against decaying logs.

He could see Elain hopping rapidly from log to log up above, but she was losing steam. Gods, no. He was not going to die a watery death.

Think fast, Lucien! Fire makes light, he rationalized, fire could drive away this darkness. Lucien tunneled into the depths of his magic, grasping for a kernel of power that would unleash hell upon these shadow creatures. But it was not boiling fire that exploded from him.

It was light.

Golden, ethereal light poured from Lucien’s webbed fingers like rays of the sun. The beam sliced the shadow being in half, dissolving it into black shreds. But another shadow creature headed his way, wrapping a tendril around Lucien’s waist with chilling cold. Lucien turned himself into a ball of fire this time, the entity leaping back as if it had been burned. Lucien twisted and aimed the golden light for what he presumed was the center of the mass, disintegrating the being within seconds.

Lucien broke the surface, gasping for air in his tiny frog lungs. Only a second of respite was given, before another shadow creature slammed into him, dragging him down again.

“Fuck off.” Precious bubbles of air escaped Lucien as he said it, but it was well worth the satisfaction as he carved a clean hole into the shadow entity with the light beaming from his hands. Lucien kicked for the sky, thighs and webbed feet making powerful strokes in the swamp. He didn’t doubt there were more predators down below eager to gobble frogs up, regardless of their light and fire capabilities.

“Lucien!” Elain was still screaming his name. She was perched on a floating log, brown eyes shining with fear. “Over here!”

Lucien almost wanted to laugh at Elain holding a stick like a sword, as if it could do anything against those vicious shadow monsters. Still, it warmed his heart that she tried. Lucien swam towards her as fast as he could, his kicking feet in sync with treading arms.

“Are you alright?” Elain’s voice sounded on the verge of tears as she hauled him up onto the log, her silver-lined eyes scanning the area for any more of the shadows.

“Are you crying?”

“N-n-no,” she stammered, but a traitorous tear slipped out of the corner of her big brown eyes. She wiped it away hastily. “I cry because I’m stressed, not because I’m sad.”

“And here I was, beginning to think you’d truly cared for me.”

“Are you alright?” Elain asked again. She rubbed his back, the slippery coolness of her skin comforting against the heat of the moment.

Lucien took a deep breath. Eris’s warrior training rang through his frazzled state, guiding him into drawing down his adrenaline and soothing the magic that was still roiling within him. His hands were no longer glowing, thank gods, but they still tingled with residual magic.

“Of course I am. Doesn’t my pretty face still look the same to you?” he asked, gathering himself enough to joke some more.

“What the hell were those things?”

“I don’t know.” Lucien scanned their surroundings, but thankfully there was no sign of the shadow creatures. It seemed that once they disintegrated, they stayed gone. “I don’t think there are any more.”

“You were…you looked like you were glowing underwater. Was that what drove them away?”

“Yes.” Lucien’s expression shifted into seriousness as he faced Elain. He held out his closed fist. Elain leaned in, curious. Creating a light so bright—he’d never done it before and wasn’t sure if he could do it again.

His hands were green and slimy, his fingers webbed and thick. But ethereal golden light remained when he opened his palm. The tiny droplet of light floated up, pulsating and glowing like Lucien had plucked it out of the sun itself. The light was precious, filling some part of his soul that Lucien didn’t realize he was missing. He swallowed the thickness in his throat, suddenly overcome with emotion.

“Goodness,” Elain breathed. Her large, round eyes gazed unblinkingly at it, her wide mouth opened slightly with fascination. There was not a single trace of judgment on her face, only pure amazement. “This is beautiful, Lucien.”

Something about the reverence in her voice when she said his name…Lucien’s heart skipped a beat. Fuck.

“I suppose it’s a useful party trick,” Lucien said carelessly, closing his fist and folding the light away with it. Light. Who else in his family could create a light like this? He turned and began walking down the log, hoping to erase the image of Elain’s wondrous expression from his mind by focusing on his family history.

“Party trick?” Elain repeated, her tone indignant once again. She followed him towards land. “If so, I would like to see it again.”

“Later, later,” Lucien replied, waving his hand.

This wasn’t the first time I’d been in the throes of battle, nor the first time I’d been a target singled-out in an attack. But according to my knowledge of Prythian Fae and monsters, shadow creatures don’t exist on their own. They are a product of magic.

The fact that he was first turned into a frog, and then singled out by the shadow creatures…something was hunting him. A chill ran down Lucien’s spine.

Who could it possibly be? He could not think of any enemies in particular. He had traveled across Prythian for years, and never had an issue even while flaunting his status most ostentatiously. So…who?

“The shadow creatures destroyed the raft,” Elain said forlornly.

“Then we make it back to civilization on foot,” Lucien declared. Elain forged ahead into the thick green vegetation, using the rowing stick to push the leafy plants out of the way. Determined little thing, Lucien observed amusedly as she marched with vigor.

But if someone was trying to capture him by any means necessary, that meant Elain was in danger, too. The possibility of shadow creatures wrapping their tendrils around her limbs and dragging her into the watery depths made something primal within Lucien rear its head.

He fisted his webbed palms, feeling his blood boil with each passing second. Elain was scared of the dark, Lucien suspected, and if those shadows enveloped her into a cocoon of darkness, he would…he would…

The large stick Elain was wielding swung a hair too close to Lucien’s head, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Watch it, princess.” Lucien poked her in the back.

“I can handle a big stick,” Elain retorted. “Just stay out of my way.” She continued to thwack through the brush.

“How exciting.” Lucien grinned, her careless banter shattering the knuckle clenching thoughts he had earlier. Elain silently made the gesture for go-fuck-yourself without looking back. Lucien rolled his eyes and chuckled.

***Elain***

“Let’s rest up for the night,” Lucien’s voice suggested after what seemed like hours of walking. Exhaustion wore into Elain’s very bones, for she had leaned on constant movement as a way to stave off her anxious thoughts. Lucien’s endless chattering, the plentiful questions he’d asked her about the plants they passed by had also helped, whether he was aware of it or not.

She had foreseen the exact incident this afternoon, and had no idea what to make of it.

“Alright,” Elain agreed, plopping down on a toadstool. Walking on hind legs also made her lower back ache, but she didn’t want to give that up. Hopping around on all fours would be a commitment—an acceptance—of her existence as a frog.

At that moment, her stomach made a loud whine. Elain clutched her belly in embarrassment, hoping Lucien didn’t hear it.

“But first, dinner.” Lucien stepped to the side, waving his green arm with flourish. The prince revealed a large mangrove leaf, laden with all sorts of edible plant matter such as berries and soft greens.

“How did you do that?” Elain’s mouth dropped open.

“You were so busy with the big stick that you didn’t realize I was picking up food along the way, hmm?” Lucien chuckled, popping a berry into his mouth. Elain poked Lucien playfully in the stomach with the stick for his remark, which he dodged easily with a teasing grin.

Elain looked at the leaf more closely, noticing an assortment of the plants that she had previously described to Lucien. The prince had been paying attention to her ramblings about swamp flora, she realized.

“Thank you,” Elain dipped her head slightly. This was the second time Lucien had scrounged up something for her to eat, and it surprised her: she had assumed the prince would be complaining about their circumstances and expecting her to wait on his every need. Perhaps that was exactly who he was, and he was acting differently to get her good side. Whatever the real reason was, it didn’t hide the fact that she was secretly pleased.

“Anything for you, princess,” Lucien smirked as he casually tossed another berry into the air, catching it with a flick of his long, pink tongue.

The berries and soft aquatic weeds were easy to get down, but the more fibrous plants required more vigorous “chewing”. Elain felt like an animal, smacking loudly as her rigid palate attempted to break down the roots without the use of teeth.

“Are you alright?” Elain asked again, realizing Lucien had gone oddly quiet. He had said he was fine before, but Elain could tell he wasn’t. The prince sat across from her, his normally smirking mouth serious and his mismatched eyes pensive. The pale scar that cut the left side of his wide, amphibian face looked stark in the twilight.

It was a moment before Lucien spoke. “I was thinking…Briallyn turning me into a frog and the shadows today seem interconnected.” Elain had suspected that, but to hear Lucien vocalize those thoughts…it solidified just how dire their situation was.

“But Briallyn is just a student,” Elain thought aloud. “Sure, she’s almost a full-fledged witch, but surely there are more skilled practitioners who could do this dirty work.”

“Not necessarily.” Lucien’s face was grim. “Dark magic of this kind has been explicitly outlawed since the Hybern War ended. Many of the practitioners were killed during the War. Briallyn might have a mentor outside of the Colibri Academy.” His expression was haunted, and Elain wondered if the prince had fought in any of the battles. He would have been in his early twenties, then, a young male eager to prove his skill on the battlefield.

“You can’t think of anyone who would target you?” The fear that seized her entire being when Lucien was pulled down had been so profound, Elain felt herself tremble at its recollection.

The roiling shadows, the dark waters…she hated it. And it was getting dark again. She clutched her bit of taro root, hoping Lucien’s protective wards would be enough to keep the shadows at bay.

“I can’t,” Lucien shook his head. “That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out. It was actually…the first time. The first time I’ve been able to produce such light.”

“What do you mean?” Elain’s eyes widened.

“I was trying to create fire,” Lucien explained. “But instead, light came out. And it’s completely new. I can’t think of any other family members who can do such a thing.”

“I see.” Elain fidgeted with her green fingers, the mucus leeching from her pores making her hands feel extra sweaty. “I-I have something to say,” she forced out, the jitters making her voice shaky.

Lucien looked at her with a piercing interest.

“Remember when I fainted?” Lucien nodded. “It wasn’t because I didn’t have enough to eat. I had a vision. Of what happened today. With you and the shadows. I saw what happened, before it happened. Do you get what I mean?” Talking about what happened was wading into foreign territory; Elain finished each phrase with an upturn that sounded like she was asking a question.

“A vision,” Lucien murmured thoughtfully.

“It was my first time, too. I don’t have any powers. Well..I thought I didn’t, until today.”

“Experiencing premonitions is a skill characteristic of Seers. You haven’t had any other visions?” Lucien’s tone was curious, with a hint of concern. Elain shook her head. “Interesting.”

“Do Seers manifest their powers later on in life?” Elain asked.

“No, they follow the same path of maturation as all other Fae with powers.” Lucien scratched one of the olive ridges at the top of his head. “I suppose it is unusual for us to discover new powers like this, though.”

“Maybe being turned into frogs activated something?” Elain suggested. But Lucien didn’t look convinced.

“A transformation curse doesn’t typically do that,” Lucien explained. “It changes victims physically, but everything else remains the same. There must be some deeper reason…I’ll have to think about it.”

Although it was obvious Lucien’s royal education would provide him a vast depth of knowledge about magic, the prince’s demeanor had morphed into that of a pondering scholar. It was a stark contrast to his joking, frivolous attitude from before. Elain snuck a glance at him, blinking as she saw Lucien in a different light. Who knew princes could be complex?

Splish, splish. A smattering of droplets plinking down onto Elain’s bare head heralded the distant boom of thunder. Rain began to fall as silver-white lightning slashed across the night sky. Abandoning his dinner, Lucien hopped towards a hosta sapling for shelter. Elain looked around but unfortunately, the only plant that provided leaves broad enough for coverage was the tiny hosta plant.

“Ah, princess,” Lucien greeted jovially, putting their somber conversation in the past when she peeked under. “Go find your own leaf.” The prince smirked widely and lowered his voice. “Unless, you care to join me here.”

The thunder boomed even louder, its vibrations making Elain’s bones rattle. The rain increased into a torrential downpour. She might be soaking wet already, but she wasn’t keen on spending the night in a puddle. Elain gritted her teeth, putting her pride aside as she asked, “may I join you?” Lucien smiled broadly at her question.

“Why, I thought you would never ask.” The prince scooched over just a smidge, leaving a little patch of dry dirt for Elain. She balked slightly, realizing how close they would be, before joining him. Both frogs tucked themselves in on all fours, and Elain wiggled an indentation in the soil to rest her weary little body.

It had been several months since she’d lain next to a male. It doesn’t count, Elain told herself as she pressed against Lucien’s firm body. He was like a solid wall, shielding her from the outside world. She felt…safe. And a bit girlishly giddy at the thought of being next to a prince. He may be a prince, but he’s also a frog. I’m not attracted to frogs.

“Good night, Elain.” She thought Lucien had gone to sleep, for his eyes had closed.

“Night, Lucien,” Elain murmured, her voice soft as she drifted off.

#elucien #elain x lucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #princess and the frog au #very much an action packed chapter #sorry for the delay everybody!

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