Chapter 1: Part I
Chapter Text
Lucien tugged at the iron chains around his wrists, the unforgiving metal biting into his skin. He knew there was no chance of escaping, that his fate now rested in the hands of others, but Lucien had hoped one of the links would break and he could take some of the pressure off his shoulders.
“Fuck,” Lucien mumbled, blood still wet on his lips. He ran his tongue over his teeth to check if they were all there. “Fucking hells.”
With one last useless pull on his restraints, Lucien gave up on breaking free from his shackles. He decided to take a better look around the small cell he had been thrown into, but even with his golden eye, he had to squint into the darkness.
Stone walls spelled against magic of any type closed Lucien off from the rest of the world. He could feel damp, cool air against his skin, the type that came from being deep within the earth. He was quite sure his nose had been broken, but he took a shuddering breath. Mingled with the copper scent of his own blood, Lucien could smell dying leaves.
Home.
The thought came to him unbidden, thunderous in the silence. Others in Prythian thought that Autumn was rotting, cruel in its beauty, always just on the verge of death. Lucien had always found comfort in the constant state of the court he had been raised in. He had not considered Autumn his home for centuries, and Lucien rushed to shake the idea from his mind.
He stumbled to the cell’s door, leaning onto the aged wood with all his weight. There was a small circle carved into it, a sorry excuse for a window, Lucien thought. When he pressed his forehead against the opening, and angled his head just right, Lucien could make out an endless hallway. He could see no guards, could hear nothing but the steady beat of his own heart.
Lucien had been hopeful before, but the chance of him making it out of Autumn alive was starting to look more and more unlikely with each passing moment. Golden eye whirring, he searched for a crack in the wards.
Lucien felt dread, ice cold, crawling up his spine. No one would come for him, he thought, the panic gripping him like a vice. He would be left entirely at his father’s mercy, alone and forgotten.
Voice low, Lucien cursed Beron Vanserra for being terrible, and he cursed his brothers for being even worse. He added Rhysand’s name as well, angry for having sent him to handle the issue at Spring’s border. Lucien hissed one last bitter curse before he kicked the door in frustration.
The action sent a jolt of pain up his entire leg, but being able to release some of that pent up rage managed to make Lucien feel just a bit better. He kicked the door once again with added force, wholly out of character for one of Prythian’s best emissaries.
When the door shuddered, the ancient hinges screeching as if in protest, Lucien wondered if he had perhaps shattered the ward. As the door slowly opened, though, dim firelight falling through the widening space, Lucien moved faerie-quick to press his back against the rough stone behind him.
It was a lesson the youngest of children were taught in Autumn, how easy it was for jewelled daggers to meet their mark. It was easier to fight, and to protect yourself, if you only had to worry about what was in front of you. It was a lesson so well ingrained in Lucien’s mind that it had become instinct.
As the door opened entirely, and a tall figure stepped into the stone arch of the cell, Lucien remembered who had been the one to teach him that lesson in the first place.
Eris Vanserra, Beron’s most trusted son and the heir to his throne. No one could deny Eris looked like a prince, all Autumn, even without a golden crown set on his blood-red hair.
Lucien looked from his brother’s leather boots, to his brown pants, to the white shirt laced to Eris’s throat. He couldn’t see a weapon, no dagger hilt warning others that Eris was armed.
Amber eyes fell on Lucien, lip curling in disgust. He looked disappointed, Lucien thought, before he realised that Eris was within the walls of the cell.
Mind racing, Lucien glanced past his brother and into the hallway. Perhaps—
“Don’t even think about it,” Eris snapped, the words like a whip’s lash.
“Fuck off,” Lucien snarled, angry that so much time had passed and yet Eris could still read him like an open book. Lucien looked more closely at Autumn’s heir, but he couldn’t guess just from the expression on his brother's face whether he had come to help, or to do their father’s bidding.
“Were you always so crude with your words,” Eris raised an eyebrow in question, “or is this the Night Court’s influence?”
Lucien bowed slightly at the waist, the gesture awkward with his hands still shackled behind him, mocking. “You have my sincerest apologies.” Lucien wanted to strangle Eris, and he hoped the tone of his voice conveyed the feeling well.
When Eris tilted his head, looking more wolf than faerie, the small golden hoops going up the arch of his ear glimmered in the light from the torches. “Father is not very pleased with you.”
Lucien made a point to look around the small space he was in. “Thank you for telling me, he hadn’t made his displeasure obvious.” His golden eye clicked into place as he faced Eris. “Is that all?”
“He wants you dead,” Eris said, voice clipped, but certain. Lucien could see no mercy in that flaming gaze, no care.
Lucien nodded, unseeing. He had known, from the moment he had been brought to Autumn, that his death would be the likeliest outcome. He was too busy thinking, mind preoccupied with the image of brown eyes, the rich colour of a fawn’s coat.
I can hear your heart beating through the stone.
For the briefest of moments, Lucien wondered if his mate would know exactly when his heart’s steady rhythm came to a sudden stop.
The thought troubled him enough that he turned his attention back to Eris, glaring. “Come to gloat?”
Eris shrugged, the movement elegant in a way only the best of courtier’s were capable of. “Only partially.” His lips turned down at the corners, the smallest of frowns, before he continued. “If it were up to me, I’d leave you here to rot with the rest of the prisoners. Truly, I could care less about what father decides to do to you.”
“How kind,” Lucien mumbled, not entirely believing his brother’s words, but not exactly sure where the Autumn heir actually stood on the matter. Once, Lucien had believed Eris cared, but that seemed like a lifetime ago.
Eris ignored Lucien’s remark all together. “Mother, though,” he continued, “she’s worried about your well being.”
“Then tell her everything is fine.” Lucien knew the Lady of Autumn had enough to worry about.
“That would be a lie,” Eris snapped. “Father is one bad mood away from ripping you apart and sending your severed head to Rhysand as a gift.” The words were a hiss, barely a whisper.
Lucien breathed in sharply. “Eris–” He hadn’t known what he was going to say, but Eris raised a beringed hand, demanding silence.
“You’re very lucky, Lucien, that I have some spare time in my very busy schedule to do as our mother has asked and find a way to return you to the Night Court.”
Lucien could imagine his mother, tears in her russet eyes so similar to his own, as she fell to her knees at Eris’s feet, begging for help. He wondered if Eris had spoken to her kindly.
“All out of the goodness of your heart?” Lucien questioned. He had meant for it to be angry, but instead he sounded exhausted.
“What heart?”
Lucien very nearly rolled his eyes. Only in the Autumn Court could people be so dramatic. “You’ll come back for me, then?” He would try to keep his expectations of Eris low. Lucien had learned from the last time he had found himself in a similar situation that hoping for help from his eldest brother was pointless. Then, he had considered it a betrayal, now he knew better, it was simply in Eris’s nature to do things that only ever benefited him.
Eris smiled, the expression making it seem like he was baring his teeth. The dim firelight was casting long shadows on Eris’s face, the slash of his cheekbones looked glass sharp. “Give me a day or two, little brother.” Lucien flinched at the last two words, more cruel than anything else Eris had said to him since his arrival. If Eris noticed, he chose not to acknowledge it. “If your heart is still beating, I’ll find a way to return you to your High Lady.”
Eris had a rare gift in his ability to make anything sound like an insult, Lucien thought. Still leaning against the rough wall for support, Lucien nodded in agreement. He knew better than to trust his brother’s word, but for the first time since he’d been tossed into the dungeons, he felt a small spark of hope.
Eris took a step back, away from the arch in the stone, and Lucien was plunged once more into darkness. He winnowed without a word, the torches going out as he disappeared, and leaving nothing but a few dying embers in his wake.
The heavy oak door slammed shut, locks falling into place, and Lucien was once again alone.
Chapter Text
Elain was running. Fallen twigs snapped under her weight, leaving shallow cuts on the soles of her bare feet. She held tightly onto her skirts, gold like morning sunlight, a beacon in the darkness of the forest. Elain’s knuckles were white around the fabric, jewelled rings flashing ruby red on each of her fingers. Gnarled branches reached out all around her, scratching her face, getting caught in the loose curls of her hair. Elain heard a lone wolf howling in the distance, but she couldn’t see the moon.
Where was the moon?
“Elain?”
The sound of Feyre’s voice shook Elain from her wandering thoughts with a jolt. The tone of her sister’s question suggested that it had not been the first time she’d had to say her name.
“Mhm,” Elain hummed in response, straightening out the thin fabric of her light blue skirts as she shifted in her cushioned seat.
All morning, her mind kept returning to the dream that had woken her so suddenly. Elain could hardly consider it a nightmare, her mind had conjured much more frightening images in recent years, but there was something about the dream that had unsettled her.
Feyre placed a gentle, tattooed hand on Elain’s shoulder. She furrowed her brows, concerned. “Are you alright?”
Elain tore her gaze away from the dancing flames of the fireplace, tucking a strand of hair behind her arched ear. The gesture still managed to make her feel uncomfortable in her own skin, the shape of her ear still unfamiliar to her despite the time that had passed.
Elain swallowed the discomfort, pushed it aside along with the thoughts of her dream. Cassian and Rhysand had paused in the middle of their conversation, and she wondered if they were waiting for her response.
Elain flashed her younger sister a smile, knowing it looked genuine. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Concern still lingered in Feyre’s eyes, her mouth curling down at the corners. She looked like she had more to say, but the door to the suite opened, capturing not just her attention, but Elain’s as well.
When Rhysand had asked Elain that morning to take part in a meeting at the Hewn City, it had been unexpected, but welcome. Elain would have been content to watch over Nyx, as she usually did when the Night Court had business to attend to, but Elain had wanted to keep busy.
Usually, spending her spare time gardening was enough to keep Elain’s mind occupied. Being out in the warm sunlight, the gentle wind a comforting caress as Elain tended to the lovely flowers, it always brought her a sense of peace.
Lately, though, despite her best efforts, Elain had been feeling…anxious.
A strange feeling would come to her suddenly, close to panic, and she would choke on her nerves. It was almost an impression of her own emotions – hers, but not entirely. Like lightning, the feeling would overwhelm her briefly, and as quickly as it had come, it would disappear.
Elain had assumed the panic was related to her abilities as a seer, that the ancient power was once again rearing its ugly head, but as Azriel walked into the room with another man following close behind, Elain was overcome with the realisation that she had forgotten about Lucien.
Seventh son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court.
Elain tried her best not to think about him, his name alone was enough to make her bitter. She could still recall every word he had ever said to her, and yet Elain wanted nothing to do with him. Her mate.
Elain had thought Lucien was Autumn personified, when she had met him, learned more about him. He was all the golds and reds she had associated with the season, until Elain had seen Lucien’s eldest brother for the first time during the Winter Solstice and her opinion had changed entirely.
Eris Vanserra was lovely in the same way that broken glass was, and he looked every bit like the faeries she had heard about when she lived on the other side of the wall. Blood-red hair, eyes like golden coins, his skin was pale as bone. He looked dangerous, deadly, a striking opposite to Lucien despite their similarities. How fitting, Elain had thought, that Autumn was the season of death, and Eris was its prince.
If Eris was here, and she had been brought to this meeting, then Elain could declare with certainty that Lucien would be at the centre of the discussion. The sound of her own heartbeat was thunderous in her ears as Elain tried to convince herself she didn’t care what happened to Lucien. She barely knew him, after all.
When Eris’s assessing gaze fell on her, Elain made a point to look elsewhere. She watched as the door closed shut on a phantom wind, and she wondered if it was Feyre’s or Rhysand’s magic that had done so.
Azriel walked silently past Eris to stand at Rhysand’s side, his shadows scattering to the room’s dark corners. The suite was large, beautiful, but Elain felt like the grey walls were closing in around her, a cell. Elain placed her hands in her lap, her posture like that of royals.
“I won’t waste your time, or mine, with pleasantries,” Eris clipped. “We all know why I’ve come to your wretched city.”
Elain kept her face blank, revealing nothing, but she noticed Cassian’s frown, the only hint he too had been unaware of the reason behind their meeting. Eris’s observant eyes caught the movement and he raised his auburn brows.
Before the heir could comment on it, Rhysand spoke. “Lucien is in Autumn.”
Elain knew very little about the court, but she could guess from the expression on her family’s faces that this could mean nothing good.
“Not very smart, sending him to Spring.” Eris said, and Feyre winced. Elain wondered if Feyre blamed herself for whatever situation Lucien was currently in. “I think the only reason my father hasn’t killed him yet is because he still holds the title of the Night Court’s emissary.”
“I wasn’t under the impression Beron cared for such things,” Azriel mumbled.
Embers fell from the tips of Eris’s fingers as he smiled, mocking. “And risk angering the most powerful High Lord in history?”
Azriel glared at Eris, shadows at his shoulders. Eris winked in response, taunting.
“What can we do for him, Eris?” Rhysand asked, drawing his attention once more.
“You?” Eris frowned, “probably nothing.” He faced Elain with flames in his amber eyes. She had to make an effort not to shrink into her seat. “I had asked to meet with Lady Elain.”
Of course Eris would want to speak with her, Elain thought. A million questions flashed through her mind, but Rhysand’s voice cut through the room like a knife, stopping her before she could ask any of them.
“And I had told you, Eris, that would not be possible without the rest of my court present.” At his angry words, Elain bristled.
Eris ignored the High Lord of Night, his focus solely on Elain. “I sent word to your sister days ago, my father has Lucien thrown in the dungeons and he cares very little for my brother’s well-being.” Elain bit the inside of her cheek, tasting blood, but Eris had more to say. “My father wants Lucien dead, but his connection to the High Lady of Night is keeping him alive, at least for now.”
Elain was sure Eris would have continued, but she was feeling resentful. Like an indignant child throwing a tantrum, Elain snapped. “You knew?” She kept her voice measured, but the tone was accusatory as she directed her words at Feyre. “You knew, and didn’t think to tell me?”
Feyre had the decency to look ashamed, but she said nothing.
Eris clicked his tongue. “And here I thought you were the one sentencing Lucien to a cruel death.”
“What do you mean?” Elain demanded, her patience wearing thin with him as well. She could barely recognise herself, her emotions wild like the flames of a forest fire. Elain stood from her seat, the wooden legs of the chair scratching the black marble of the floor. She clenched her hands in fists at her sides.
Eris watched Elain, reading her reaction. “I forget that you are new to this life, new to our laws and our ways.” His eyes skipped to Feyre for a moment before coming back to Elain. “As Lucien’s mate, you could demand an audience with the High Lord of Autumn, and request his return to Night.”
Elain was not given a chance to share her thoughts as everyone in the room began to speak over one another. She paid no attention to their words, too concerned with what Eris had claimed.
It should not have mattered to her, what Lucien’s fate would be. If Eris was right, and Lucien died at the High Lord of Autumn’s hands, she would not have to worry about having the mate she had never wanted. Instead of the relief she would have assumed to feel at the thought, she could only feel an overwhelming sense of dread.
I’ll do it.
The words rang clear in her head, the toll of a bell. When everyone turned to face her, Elain realised that she had spoken out loud.
Elain looked to Eris, voice firm. “I’ll go to Autumn.”
Notes:
thank you to everyone reading <3
Chapter Text
The smell of copper, bitter and sharp, lingered in the air.
It took Elain a moment to realise that it was blood, and it took her even longer to realise that it was her own. She released a shaky breath, loosening her clenched fists. Her nails had cut into the skin of her palms, perfect crescent moons, already healing.
The suite was poorly lit, as the whole of the Hewn City seemed to be, but in the dim faelight, Elain could just barely see her blood. Her brown eyes tracked the scarlet drops as they left small trails along the inside of her hands.
Elain frowned as she watched the skin on her palms knit back together, her pain muted, unnatural when compared to her human aches and injuries. Elain was still in the Night Court, and already she was feeling incapable, useless.
Eris had been very clear in his assertion that no other member from the Night Court would be allowed to join her, certainly neither one of the Archeron sisters. It had been enough for Elain to reconsider leaving with the Autumn prince, but she had not voiced her doubts out loud.
“You can just as easily change your mind,” Azriel said gently. “No one would think any less of you for it.” His wings were tucked close to his body, making him smaller, less threatening. Concern was evident in the pull of his brows and in the tension of his shoulders.
Azriel’s words were meant to be a comfort, Elain was sure, but the suggestion was enough to annoy her. She flashed him a friendly smile, her response simple. “I know.” Elain could tell that it was what he wanted to hear, that Azriel wouldn’t push her to further explain.
“Why are you pacing?” Nesta asked from the Illyrian’s side. The tone of her voice was somewhat reproving, like she was catching her younger sister in a lie.
Elain froze, pausing her movements. She hadn’t even realised she’d been walking in a constant back-and-forth. She straightened the fabric of her gown, settled her nerves. “I’m not pacing,” she argued.
“I don’t understand why all of this can’t just be resolved with a letter,” Nesta snapped, her arms crossed, not convinced by Elain’s reassurances. She was in her fighting leathers, Ataraxia at her back. Elain knew Nesta wouldn’t hesitate to use the sword on Eris if he provoked her. Nesta had been the one to help Elain pack for the trip, and then she had insisted on waiting with Elain in the Hewn City until Rhysand and Eris arranged her departure.
Elain turned to face her eldest sister, “Probably because it’s all very complicated.”
“I think it’s very simple,” Nesta’s words were sharp as a knife’s blade. “Lucien is our emissary, Autumn has no claim to him.”
“Blood means nothing to you, Nesta?” Azriel asked. Elain could hear the ghost of amusement in his voice.
Nesta responded, but Elain missed it, her whirling thoughts a storm within her mind. Elain knew she owed Lucien nothing, that no one expected her to uproot her life in Velaris and run to his side, but she had become tired of all the bloodshed. The war had drained her, she told herself, she couldn’t bear another death, another loss.
What did it matter that Lucien was her mate, Elain had declared as she and Nesta packed away her most beautiful dresses, she would do the same for anyone. She was worried, of course, but only in the sense that Lucien was Feyre’s friend. Feyre had hugged her tightly back home, close to tears. Elain knew her sister was grateful, but she wished Feyre would have come to the Hewn City to see her off.
Elain breathed a sigh, her shoulders raising in a shrug. She was about to respond to Nesta, to once again try and persuade her sister that she knew what she was doing, to have Azriel understand that she was confident in the choices she was making. Elain was growing tired of the constant coddling, how everyone in her family just assumed they knew what was best for her.
A spark of anger, resentful, came to life inside her, and Elain was glad the doors to the suite opened and Rhysand entered. He had been the only one who hadn’t questioned her decision, who had understood Elain’s resolve from the start. It had come as a surprise to Elain, but she was grateful for whatever support her sister’s mate offered.
Rhysand, though, had not come alone. Walking a few careful paces behind him was a woman, dressed in Night Court black. Elain took in her simple and modest attire, and she raised a brow in question.
The woman didn’t respond, her dark eyes flashed to Nesta and Azriel before she clenched her jaw and stared straight ahead.
Elain would have spoken to her if Rhys hadn’t captured her attention instead. “You’re ready?”
As soon as the sun’s last rays disappear behind the horizon, I’ll return for you.
Eris’s last words to Elain rang clear in her head. She glanced to the window, to the quickly setting sun as the sky turned a deep violet, a pink hue still visible behind the mountain range cutting across the territory.
Elain placed her hands in front of her, fingers laced so that no one could spot the nervous tremors. She nodded once in understanding, “I am.” Her voice was firm, convincingly unafraid.
Elain wondered if Rhysand was looking into her mind, searching for answers that she would never freely give. She snapped out of her thoughts when Rhysand spoke to her once more. “Allow me, Elain, to introduce you to your lady’s maid,” he gestured to her with his hand, “Cora will be with you for as long as you’re in Autumn.”
The woman, Cora, didn’t even bother looking at her. Elain questioned if it was because she had not wanted to join her, or if it was because that was to be expected of the woman’s position as a lady’s maid. Elain knew very little, still, about Prythian and its people, but she could have sworn that the woman was Illyrian. If not for her lack of wings and sharp ears, Elain would have bet on it. Her beauty was shocking, enough to give Elain pause so that she could admire the other woman.
Her focus once more entirely on the High Lord of Night, Elain could feel as her back tensed, unsettled by the obvious disregard for her opinion on the matter. “I thought maybe one of the twins—”
Azriel interrupted Elain in the middle of her sentence, his words suggesting the decision was final. “Nuala and Cerridwen are needed here.”
Elain hadn’t even gotten the chance to say goodbye, and while she was irritated, she chose to respond in a pleasant voice. “Then tell them both that when I’m back in the city, I’ll be expecting them to pay a visit to the River House.”
Azriel offered her a small, genuine smile in return. His expression was quick to turn serious, though, as his shadows whirled from their hiding spots to his shoulders.
It was then that Elain glanced at the arched windows on the room’s opposite end. The sun had finally set and stars now seemed to wink at her in the distance. Elain faced the doors, expecting them to open, but she gasped in surprise as Eris neglected to use them.
The heir to the Autumn Court stepped into the room as though he were entering into the small space from a rip in the fabric of the universe. The flames in the fireplace flared at his presence, whether he had done so on purpose was unclear to Elain, but he definitely seemed like the type.
“Not a moment past the agreed time,” Rhysand drawled.
“I’m nothing if not punctual,” Eris barely looked at the High Lord in front of him, choosing to bow slightly at the waist in Nesta’s direction. “Lady Death,” he greeted.
Nesta merely glowered, her eyes flashing silver.
Eris did not seem afraid, but rather impressed at the swirling flames in Nesta’s gaze. He was quick to turn his attention to Elain. “Last chance to change your mind.” A dare, like he was expecting her to be inconstant, unreliable.
Elain could see why Azriel disliked Eris so much. She looked straight at him, “My mind won’t be changing.”
Eris flashed her a grin, “Good.”
“You can winnow more than one with you to Autumn?” Rhysand asked, and Elain nearly sighed in relief when embers came to life in Eris’s observant eyes and he paid her no mind.
“Why?” Eris questioned, so much distaste in that one, simple word.
“Elain will be needing a lady’s maid,” Azriel bit out.
Eris hummed in response, facing Elain once more. “You’re bringing a friend?”
“Will that be a problem?” Elain lifted her chin, ready to argue on Cora’s behalf. The woman took a few small steps closer, her black skirts brushing Elain’s light blue ones, as though she too was ready to make her case.
Eris frowned, “My father won’t like it.”
“You can’t expect me to go alone,” Elain snapped, not bothering with upholding pretences any longer.
Eris raised his auburn brows, amused. He took a moment to inspect Cora, seeming to examine every inch of her. His eyes trailed assessingly from the fabric of Cora’s dress pooled along the marble floor to the elegant braid of her dark hair twisted in a crown. “At least she’s nice to look at,” Eris finally commented, a dismissal.
Elain knew it was an understatement, that Cora was lovely, but now that Elain had gotten what she wanted, she kept her mouth shut.
Cora scowled, but she did not utter a word either. Elain gave her a look that she hoped suggested that they were now in this together.
Elain watched as Eris raised his hand, beckoning the two of them closer. Elain’s eyes flicked to his palm as she raised her own hand tentatively.
Eris’s nostrils flared with his next breath, flames flaring in his eyes. Elain wondered if he could smell the dried blood on her palms, whether he would remark on it, but he remained silent.
Elain’s hand shook as she placed it in Eris’s much larger one, and quick like the harsh strike of lightning, her world went dark.
Notes:
thank you to everyone reading<3
Chapter Text
The Autumn Court was on the constant verge of death, Elain knew, but it was still the loveliest place she had ever seen. Eris had winnowed them first to the border, where the trees created a canopy so thick, she couldn’t even see the sky. The richest reds, the darkest oranges, and the deepest greens had surrounded Elain. Cora had looked as equally impressed by the change of scenery, and Elain had wondered if the woman had ever left the stifling Hewn City.
Autumn was everything Elain had imagined the lands of faerie to be like. The chill was biting, she had noticed, cold like the first kiss of winter. She had been stunned into silence, had forgotten she was upset that Eris had not even let her say a proper goodbye to her family.
Before Elain had had a moment to catch her breath, before she could truly appreciate the wild flowers and the unfamiliar trees, Eris had not bothered to warn her or Cora as he took them directly to the Forest House.
Eris had let go of her hand so suddenly that Elain had stumbled, and had grabbed onto the woman who would act as her lady’s maid. Cora had gently supported her, shooting an angry glare at the Autumn heir’s turned back.
Eris had led them through winding halls, windows dark at the late hour, torches their only light. Elain had realised that she much preferred the flickering flames of Autumn to the faelights ever-present in the Night Court.
Eris had given them a moment to look at the guest suite, all wood and stone and comfortable carpets, before he had told Elain they would be going straight to Beron.
Elain understood that Lucien was in a great deal of danger, but the quick pace at which everything was happening was enough to make her light-headed, unsteady.
“The High Lord is expecting you,” Eris offered her his arm, but when Elain hesitated, he added, “and it’s best not to keep him waiting.”
Elain did not reach for Eris, instead she asked, “Because I’m Lucien’s mate?” She very nearly spat the last word at Eris in distaste. Saying Lucien’s name out loud was like a vicious blow, especially since she so often refused to allow herself the liberty. On the other side of the wall it was improper, Lucien wasn’t Elain’s husband, and the familiarity with which his name fell from her lips was enough to rattle her.
Eris shook his head, the firelight from the torches reflecting off his golden jewellery. “Because he received your letter.” His answering smile was ruthless, that of a wolf. The expression didn’t reach his amber eyes.
Elain only frowned in confusion, she glanced at Cora. “I never–”
Elain did not get the chance to finish her statement, not as Eris waved his hand elegantly and a letter floated gently past her face. She snatched the paper from the air, her eyes scanning its contents with growing disbelief.
The Night Court’s wax seal was still intact and the letter was simply worded, respectful.
Lord Eris Vanserra, it is with great urgency that I write to you, so that I might request an audience with the High Lord of the Autumn Court…
Elain continued to skim what was clearly a plea for help. Cora moved closer to peek over Elain’s shoulder and she made a low sound of displeasure.
What surprised Elain the most was not what was written in the letter, but rather the elegant, looping scrawl, exactly like her own. Even the signed name, Lady Elain Archeron, was identical. Her lips parted slightly in surprise at the perfect forgery.
Before Elain could say anything, Eris spoke, a hidden warning in the tone of his voice. “I received your letter just in time, Lady, my father was growing tired of waiting for someone to notice Lucien’s absence.” His words were careful, so much so that Elain wondered if Eris was worried about someone listening in on their conversation. He offered her his arm once more, a flawless gentleman.
This time, Elain was quick to loop her arm through his, nodding in understanding. Briefly Elain wondered how Eris had managed to forge the letter so well, but she pushed those thoughts aside, vowing to bring it up again at a later time. The light blue fabric of her sleeve was an ugly contrast to the deep green colour of Eris’s velvet jacket. “I am glad, then,” Elain said softly, “that I sent my letter to you when I did.”
Elain saw as Eris’s shoulders dropped ever so slightly in relief, although he said nothing in response. The thick oak doors of the guest room opened silently, the long hallway beyond was menacing, shadows dancing as the torches flickered.
Elain took a deep breath to calm herself, her posture perfect, just like her mother had taught her a lifetime ago. Elain wondered if the steady heartbeat she could hear was her own or Lucien’s, now that distance no longer separated them.
Eris stepped forward, and Elain followed, Cora just a few steps behind. Elain was grateful for her strong and silent presence, but before all three of them could walk past the stone entrance of the room and into the hallway, Eris paused.
Auburn brow raised, he glared at Cora with flames in his eyes. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I’ve come with the Lady, shouldn’t I stay by her side?” Cora snapped, her words sharp and lacking any of the respect one would have expected her to show a prince. Elain liked her instantly.
“It’ll only annoy my father,” Eris replied, glancing at Elain before he faced Cora once more.
Cora looked like a queen, Elain thought, her braid as good as any gold crown. “And leave the High Lady’s sister alone with you?” The last word was a snarl.
“You’re her lady’s maid, not her personal guard,” Eris responded, not taking his eyes off Cora. She continued to glare, and Eris smiled mockingly, daring her to argue.
Elain felt as though the tension between them could be cut with a knife, locked as they were in their silent battle of wills.
“Besides,” Eris drawled, “what use will you be against the wrath of a High Lord?”
A blush stained Cora’s brown cheeks, the fingers of her one hand curling into a fist. Elain wondered if she would have hit Eris, but she did not wait any longer to find out if that would have been the case.
“Thank you, Cora,” Elain interjected. “I’ll be fine.” Her words were confident, even though Elain herself was anything but.
Cora did not seem satisfied with the way the night seemed to be unfolding, but all she did was sigh in frustration. “Good luck, then,” she said quietly. “I’ll be here when Lucien is freed.”
Cora’s words were enough to spark an ember of hope within Elain, but as she walked arm-in-arm with Eris to the throne room, panic was beginning to send unwelcome shivers down her spine.
“Don’t be afraid,” Eris murmured, not looking at Elain. He continued to walk at an unhurried pace, the sound of his boots hitting the stone in a steady rhythm. The carved double-doors of the throne room towered just a few more steps ahead of them. “No harm will come to you, Elain, I swear it on my life.”
Elain did not know why she believed Eris’s words, but she tightened her grip on his arm, grateful. The doors opened, the hinges groaning with the weight of the wood, and the throne room was revealed, so unlike the one Rhysand and Feyre had in the Hewn City.
Beron Vanserra sat on a throne of ancient maple, leaves carved into the thick wood with a steady hand. Elain’s first thought was that he looked nothing like Lucien, but there was a ghost of Eris in the turned down corners of his full lips.
Elain fought not to shrink into herself, to keep her head high, at his assessing gaze. He was frightening, and Elain could almost feel his power within the space. Beron was the oldest High Lord, Feyre had warned her, and Elain wondered if that made him the most dangerous.
The Lady of Autumn was a striking figure in a gown the colour of fresh blood. Her throne was just as lovely as her husband’s, although it was smaller. Elain caught the way the lady straightened her back, how she brought herself forward to look at Eris. Her husband did not see the desperation in her eyes as she looked at her eldest son, but Elain recognized the emotion, had seen it before on countless women hoping for miracles.
Eris stopped right before the pair of rulers, dropping his hold on Elain’s arm. Elain elegantly curtsied, her face downturned, the movements practised, and she was grateful for the lessons she had suffered as a young girl. Elain was surprised momentarily as Eris bowed slightly at the waist beside her, the respectful gesture clearly deference to his High Lord and not the comfortable greeting of a parent.
“Lady Elain Archeron of the Night Court,” Beron’s voice was harsh like the slash of a knife. “You have requested this meeting, and while I am pleased by your arrival to my court, I can offer you very little of my time.”
Elain raised her head, smiling pleasantly. “High Lord, Lady,” she greeted as her eyes flicked between them, “thank you for welcoming me to your lovely home.”
“You were most troubled in the letter we received,” Beron stated, raising a dark eyebrow as he silently asked her to make her case.
“I am troubled still,” Elain responded, trying her best to twist her words together just as faeries did. It came unnaturally to her, but her time in Velaris had allowed her to become familiar with the specific patterns of the High fae. “I’ve asked only for a moment of your time to make a most significant request.”
Beron’s answering smile was cruel, embers flared in his dark eyes. “Then make your request, child.”
It was intended to be an insult, Elain was sure, calling her a child. Elain was not bothered by it, and she looked straight at the ancient being before her, chin held high. “I have come to request that my mate, Lucien Vanserra, seventh son of Autumn, be allowed a safe return to the Night Court.”
Elain’s words rang clear in the near-empty throne room. The Lady of Autumn’s sharp breath was like the shattering of glass as they all waited for the High Lord’s response.
“The bond has not yet been accepted, everyone knows this.” Beron waved a hand dismissively. “You have no claim to him.”
“High Lord,” Elain began, and Eris reached for her elbow, tension in the set of his mouth. “We were to be married,” she continued, ignoring his silent warning.
“When?” Beron Vanserra questioned, casting a devastating glare in his eldest son’s direction. It was clear that the High Lord doubted Elain’s words.
Panic gripped Elain so suddenly she could barely breathe. “In two weeks' time, on the first day of Spring.” Elain hoped she sounded certain, confident. Eris looked ready to shove her behind him, his body angled in a way that suggested he was ready for a violent confrontation.
Beron’s lips curled into a vicious smile. “I believe you, Lady Elain, and take no offence, but I still must confirm the truth of your claims with my son.”
No sooner had the High Lord finished his sentence and the throne room’s doors opened with a groan. Elain couldn’t help but turn around, drawn to her mate.
You are mine.
The thought crashed through her mind like a wave against the shore, shocking and unwanted. Elain could finally sigh in relief, though, at seeing Lucien bruised and bloody, but knowing that he was relatively unharmed.
Lucien looked proud, arrogant, as he was shoved further into the throne room by a careless guard. He did not notice Elain at first, not until she tugged on the golden thread that tied them together. Beron watched them like a predator watched prey, hungry for a slip in their demeanour.
Elain’s brown eyes met Lucien’s, and all the fire he had possessed a moment before quickly went out. Like the first rays of the sun going over the horizon, horror dawned daybright on the lovely features of Lucien’s face.
Elain looked at Lucien, the smell of burning wood and dying leaves thick in the air, and she wondered if perhaps she had made a terrible mistake coming to the Autumn Court.
Notes:
i love writing elain's pov, but next update is lucien's! thank you to everyone reading <3
Chapter Text
Jesminda had been killed on a night like this, Lucien thought.
The sky had been clear of any clouds, a blue so deep it was nearly violet. Stars had sparkled to life in the distance, and Lucien had been able to see them, jewel-bright, when he had looked out of the arched windows of the throne room.
His father had been wearing a crown of golden oak leaves, his brothers had held him down with rough hands, and Lucien had begged for his lover’s life to be spared.
Lucien had turned his head in the end, a betrayal in itself, but watching Jesminda’s execution would have been unbearable. Her screams, sharp and grating like knives on marble, still haunted his worst nightmares. Lucien knew he had failed Jesminda then, the female he had claimed with such certainty as his mate.
When the High Lord’s guards had taken him from the dungeons, Lucien had been quick to think that Eris had been unable to convince their father of sending him back to the Night Court. The Mother’s scales of justice balancing once more for what happened to Jesminda, a sense of fairness to it all.
Not for a moment had Lucien even considered that Elain, lovely and quiet and sheltered Elain, had prompted his release from the suffocating cell in the deepest parts of the Forest House.
Alarm choked him at the feeling of Elain pulling at the thread connecting them, horror gripping him as the memories of Jesminda flashed clear as river water in his mind.
Lucien’s eyes met Elain’s from across the room and her unease washed over him.
She looked out of place in Autumn, the light blue dress she wore more fitting in Spring or Day, Lucien thought. Loose curls framed her beautiful face, lips parting in surprise and relief. Her slippered feet made no sound as she took a few careful steps towards him, eyes flicking desperately from his injuries to his bound wrists.
Elain was an excellent actress, Lucien noticed. If not for the emotions of dread and apprehension flooding their bond, even Lucien would have been convinced at how well she played the part of a concerned mate.
“Lucien,” Elain called, her voice cracking in distress.
The way his name rolled off her tongue clashed loudly in Lucien’s ears, metal against metal. He wanted to be near her, he wanted her to be as far away from Autumn as possible. Both reactions warred within his mind.
Why was Elain in the Autumn Court?
Lucien could not find it in him to believe that Feyre and Nesta would have let their sister throw herself into unquestionable danger for a male she barely talked to. Rhysand must have considered him a very important emissary if he was willing to risk Elain’s life.
Elain looked like she would rush to him, and Lucien wondered if she could feel the bond’s pull just as he did. Lucien only noticed that Eris was standing beside Elain when his eldest brother put out his arm to prevent her from moving.
He was unable to stop the low snarl from escaping his lips, the guards tightening their hold on him. Who else would be to blame for Elain’s arrival in the Forest House but Eris, Lucien asked himself. He silently prayed that if anything happened to his mate, Rhysand would do him the favour of ending Eris’s miserable existence.
“Look, Lucien,” his father’s voice rang out in the near-empty space. “Your mate has come for you.” Lucien turned his attention to Beron with great effort. He did not want to take his eyes off Elain for a moment, barely trusting his own senses.
His father’s grin was cruel, almost knowing, as he waited for Lucien to respond. When Lucien kept quiet, Beron shrugged, not deterred by the silence. Lucien saw as his mother tightened her grip on the armrest of her throne, knuckles white.
“Your mate wrote to Eris, her words bleeding with concern for you, my son.” Lucien had to hold his back straight so as not to rear back at the words. Beron had not addressed him as such in decades.
Lucien was trying to piece everything together, knowing that he was missing valuable information that would prove navigating the conversation with his father difficult. He cursed Eris for not having warned him at least.
“Being apart pains us,” Lucien offered, hoping it would satisfy Beron. He glanced at Elain and tried to relax, to calm his nerves. She clung to Eris, surprising Lucien with how trusting she seemed. He had to remind himself that she was merely acting, doing her best to do as the Night Court had obviously pushed her to.
“She thinks she has a claim to you,” Beron shook his head, false sympathy carved into the frown on his face. “But you know Autumn’s laws, an unaccepted mating bond means nothing, a seed not yet planted.”
Lucien responded on instinct, everything about it familiar, as if no time had passed between his exile and his current presence in the throne room. “Yes, High Lord.”
“It was a great betrayal to see you siding with Spring at our border, Lucien,” Beron continued, “but the young lady’s concern for you has been touching.”
“Let her return to Night,” Lucien interrupted, agony clawing at him. To lose a mate would be torture, and he knew his father well enough to guess he would be taking Elain’s life first. “Rhysand would thank you for it.”
Beron replied, bitter but not angry. “You never could hold that tongue.”
“Owing the High Lord of Night and his Lady would be of great use to us,” Eris intervened, his words always holding more weight in their family. Briefly, Lucien was thankful, was reminded of how often Eris had put himself in the way of Beron’s wrath when they were both so much younger.
Beron cast a long look at Eris, clicking his tongue, before he faced his youngest son. “I ask only that you answer one of my questions, Lucien, and I will grant your mate her wish.” Lucien heard Elain’s sharp inhale, but he kept his eyes on Beron. The metal one whirred in anticipation, pausing into place when his father spoke once more. “When is your mating ceremony?”
Lucien felt as though someone had pulled the rug from beneath his feet. He was unsteady, his answer needed to be quick, natural. “We wanted a spring wedding,” he blurted, the response dragged out of him. He did not know what possessed him to refer to it as a marriage, but he would have bet his life on the fact that Elain would not have talked about a mating ceremony.
Beron raised a dark eyebrow, but by the way his frown deepened, Lucien guessed the response was correct. “We’ve set the date for the equinox,” Lucien added as he felt relief from the bond, Elain’s emotions influencing his own. “On a night with a full moon.”
Lucien watched as the Lady of Autumn reached for her husband’s arm, her fingers clawing at the sleeve. “Beron,” she murmured, a quiet plea for mercy.
Lucien was unsure if his father had even heard his mother, but he turned away from Lucien, a clear dismissal, as he addressed Elain. “In Autumn, marrying on the night of a full moon brings blessings.” Beron cocked his head to the side like a wolf, “Did you know?”
Elain shook her head in response, choosing honesty. Lucien could barely see her the way Eris was standing, as if he too was ready for the worst case scenario.
Time itself seemed to still as they all waited for Beron to declare his wishes. Lucien attempted to ease Elain’s nerves, tried to comfort her through the bond, but he was not sure if he was successful. Moments or hours could have passed, and Lucien would not have noticed.
“My son,” the voice of the High Lord, never that of a father. His words the toll of a bell as he spoke to Lucien once more, breaking his silence. Beron stood from his throne, “We should let bygones be bygones, what happened all those years ago was unfortunate, but your mate is here now.”
Lucien wondered if Beron understood just how much those words made his blood boil. Lucien had begged for Jesminda’s life to be spared, had claimed she was his mate at the time. He had been so sure, and it was like a blow to have his father mention it. Lucien could feel his face heating with anger, but he kept his mouth shut.
“Let this be my gift to you,” Beron gestured with his hand to the windows, stars winking. “Have your wedding in Autumn, Lady Elain Archeron of the Night Court, and I will lift your mate’s exile. He would be free to come and go as he pleased.” The High Lord smiled, wicked, “and it would be a great honour to see one of my son’s married.”
Beron did not even look at Lucien, embers in his eyes flaring as he focused solely on Elain. Lucien wanted to scream.
Elain flashed his father a smile, it seemed so genuine that Lucien was taken aback. “How kind,” she stepped past Eris, curtsying elegantly. “You have my thanks.”
Elain sounded so very fae, Lucien remarked. With a wave of his father’s hand, the guards removed the binds from Lucien’s wrists. As soon as Lucien was freed from his restraints, Eris moved out of Elain’s way so she could run to him.
She threw her arms around Lucien’s neck as though she had done it countless times. He could do nothing but put his hands to Elain’s waist.
“I was so worried,” she spoke just loud enough for everyone to hear, but it was still soft, as though she had only meant for the words to be heard by Lucien’s ears.
Like she was his lover, Lucien breathed in deeply, held Elain close. “Everything’s alright,” he murmured, lips pressed to her hair.
We both lie so well.
The thought was like a knife to the chest, but Lucien hoped that the two of them had been able to dispel Beron of any doubts. Lucien knew his mother was convinced, he could see it in her russet eyes. For a moment, Lucien felt guilty, but he pushed the thought aside.
Elain was the first to pull away, a scarlet blush staining her pale cheeks. She tucked a stray curl behind her ear with one hand, but the other held tightly to Lucien’s. It was smart of her to look embarrassed, Beron would have found their affection distasteful otherwise.
Lucien wondered if Elain knew how perfectly she had played her part, that she could have convinced kings to kneel if she set her mind to it.
Elain certainly seemed to have the High Lord of the Autumn Court wrapped around her finger.
“Take some time with your mate, Lucien,” his father declared. “Two nights from this one, we can celebrate your return home.”
Lucien wanted to be back in the human lands, he wanted to be in the home he had made with Jurian and Vassa, the unlikeliest of friends. Instead, Lucien bowed his head. “Thank you, High Lord.”
Beron angled his chin, “The guards can show you to your rooms.” Flames flashed in his father’s eyes, familiar enough to make Lucien flinch. “I must speak with Eris.”
The guards pushed Lucien forward, the gesture rude but not painful. They kept a respectful distance from Elain, and Lucien wondered if they had simply been too charmed by her to even consider treating her poorly.
Together, they were escorted from the throne room, Elain still holding tightly to Lucien’s hand.
Notes:
thank you to everyone reading, and to those who take the time to comment <3
Chapter Text
Elain held tightly to Lucien’s arm, her fingers linked with his, her other hand clutching at his wrist. An anchor, his heartbeat a comfort as they were led down the winding halls of the ancient Forest House.
Lucien looked entirely unbothered, hardly troubled now that he was no longer in the presence of his family. Elain asked herself how, considering she very much felt as though she had woken from a nightmare. Her thoughts were foggy, her knees shaking in relief with every one of her steps. Elain wanted to sob.
Lucien’s thumb traced the curve of her knuckle and Elain breathed in deeply to calm her nerves.
It was almost humiliating, being paraded past the Autumn guards stationed at every corner as she clung to Lucien. She had to remind herself that it was expected of mated couples to behave so attached, that she was not amongst human nobles that would judge her for any open affection that was displayed.
Elain briefly wondered what Cora had done in her absence, and whether the other woman had been made aware of the change in their plans. Elain’s thoughts turned quickly, though, to what her sisters would say. Elain was sure that Nesta, more than Feyre, would be furious.
Elain assumed she would have the Inner Circle’s complete support, but she could only guess at their displeasure with how the night had unfolded.
Elain had told a High Lord that she was marrying his son, and she was only just beginning to realise the weight of such a promise. Elain felt her stomach flip, panic starting to creep along her spine.
Just when Elain’s anxiety started to take root, Lucien’s hand gripped hers more tightly. Elain felt as he tried to reassure her through the bond, and her annoyance was enough to redirect her thoughts.
The Forest House was strange and unlike any place she had ever been to. The rough stone walls were a warm grey, closer to the colour of sheep’s wool than to the cool toned rock she had become used to in Night.
Elain was surprised to see all the wooden furniture considering all the torches, flames dancing and sparks falling but never setting anything alight. She walked by a couple elegant fireplaces set into the walls, but she saw no chimneys, no soot or ashes.
Like the roots of an ancient tree, hallways connected and split off into different directions, an unnavigable maze. Elain wondered how anyone was able to find their way around.
One of the guards shoved Lucien towards a flight of stone steps, urging him to turn. Elain frowned when she felt him tense, thinking perhaps he had been offended by the gesture. It was only as a voice rang out beside them that Elain guessed Lucien had scented someone’s presence.
“Your services are no longer needed,” the words were rough, a demand. “I can take the prince and his lady to their shared suite from here.”
Much to Elain’s surprise, the guards obeyed. In the time it took for them to leave, Elain had turned her attention to the new arrival.
The man was handsome, Elain could admit. His short hair a more copper shade of red, his eyes a bright hazel. He was pale, like most of the people she had seen in Autumn, and he looked battle-worn. A slashing scar cut across his throat, just visible above the fabric of his jacket.
Even if Elain had not just been in a room with Beron Vanserra, she would have still been able to see the resemblance between the High Lord and the man who so obviously was another one of his sons. She took a step beck, knocking into Lucien’s side.
The man raised a brow, but other than a passing glance, he paid her no mind. His focus was on Lucien, the torches on the wall flared. Elain wondered if that always happened, if flames simply responded to those in Autumn, a reflection of their emotions.
“Where’s Eris?” He snapped, like he had no patience for either her or Lucien.
Her mate’s shoulders were stiff. “Is the loyal dog looking for its master?” Lucien’s drawl was taunting, as though he was expecting a reaction from his brother. His words were obviously meant to offend.
Elain could feel Lucien’s shock flooding the bond between them when his brother merely shook his head.
“You always did cause so much trouble, Lucien,” he frowned, looking very much like Eris. With a sigh, he angled his chin to the flight of stairs in front of them. “Follow me.”
Not like they had a choice, Elain thought. She could feel as Lucien turned to look at her, to check in, but she stared at his brother as he led them to a pair of thick oak doors. His attempt to comfort her was appreciated, but Elain truly thought she could not look at him without her anxiety once more taking hold. With a wave of his brother’s beringed hand, the doors opened to reveal a cosy space.
The fireplace was already lit, comfortable carpets covered the stone floor, and by the arched window on the room’s other side was a large bed, fit for two. Elain blushed, forgetting for a moment that Lucien and her were to be married, of course their shared suite would have only one bed.
Elain watched as Lucien’s brother waved his hand once again, this time lighting the candles littered on some of the wooden tables and nightstands. “I hope the rooms have been set to your liking. Should you need anything, let one of the guards know.”
Elain spoke for the first time since having left the throne room, “My lady’s maid was with me, I was wondering…” She trailed off, unsure of what to say next.
“I’ll let Eris know,” the Autumn prince offered. “I’m sure he’s thought of everything.” There was no bitterness to his words, only an acknowledgement of his eldest brother’s very thorough planning.
Elain dipped her head in thanks, but he had already begun to leave. Elain looked to Lucien as he watched his brother warily, and he hardly seemed surprised when the other man paused at the room’s threshold.
“Congratulations to the both of you on your engagement,” he said flippantly, over his shoulder. Elain could hear a flicker of doubt in his tone, perhaps a suggestion that he was not entirely convinced by their act. She wondered if Eris had mentioned it to him, if they were close enough to have shared such information.
Elain noticed the irritation that flashed in Lucien’s eye, how the other one whirred. “Thank you, Callum.”
It was clear to Elain that there was bad blood between the brothers, and while she was curious, Elain also knew that it would probably be very rude to ask Lucien about it. She watched as Callum left, glad that she no longer needed to play the role she had given herself.
The doors slammed shut behind the Autumn prince, and Elain promptly let go of Lucien’s hand. She already missed the feeling, but to reach for him would be like an admission of how she so often longed for his touch when he was near. She put distance between them, almost tripping on the edge of the carpet in her rush.
“Gods,” she mumbled, running her fingers through her curls. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath. Lucien’s scent, apples and summer mornings, lingered in the air.
What have I done?
Elain decided that she was a fool for coming to Autumn. She had no idea what she had gotten herself into, had been so desperate to save Lucien’s life that she had doomed them both.
When Elain opened her eyes, she saw Lucien flexing his fingers, like the memory of her hand in his was enough to unsettle him. He had dark bruises along his jaw, clenched in what she thought was concern. There were blood stains, brown and aged, along the collar of his white shirt. A smear of dirt was on his temple and Elain could tell he had been treated poorly until she had come.
Lucien was still the loveliest man Elain had ever seen, and she hated herself for believing it.
“How in the hell did Feyre convince you to come for me?” Lucien asked, voice tired, like his own thoughts were weighing him down.
Elain furrowed her brow, frowning at him. “Feyre?” She echoed, incredulous.
At her question Lucien seemed to anger, only for a moment, before he spoke once more. “Rhysand, then, made you do this?”
“No one made me do anything,” Elain hissed, keeping her voice down, remembering how careful Eris was with his words even when they had been alone. “I came for you because I chose to.” She was frustrated, angry that everyone assumed she could not make decisions for herself. It was with great effort that she kept her hands at her sides, that she did not begin pointing at Lucien with an accusing finger.
“Why would you do such a thing?” Confusion and disbelief lingering in his words.
“Because I felt like it,” she snapped, feeling very much like a child. Elain did not share with him that after so much death, so much change in the last few years, she did not think she could bear more. “And you should be thanking me, not questioning my motives.”
Elain watched as he bent ever so slightly at the waist, the smallest of bows. He did not take his eyes off her as he said, “You have my thanks, Elain.”
At the sound of her name falling from Lucien’s lips, Elain took a step towards him, the movement almost involuntary. “You shouldn’t call me that,” the impropriety of it all had Elain blushing, she attempted to tell herself that was why she could feel her heartbeat quicken. “You don’t have the right—”
“I think I do,” Lucien said with a shrug, “considering we’re about to be married.”
It looked like he wanted to say more, but Elain interrupted. “It means nothing,” she was shocked at how snarled the last word was. “Nothing has changed between us,” her words held a finality to them.
Lucien ran a hand through his hair, “Not for one moment did I believe otherwise.” He sounded exhausted, Elain noticed.
Briefly, Elain felt guilty for being upset with him.
Lucien shook his head, and as he spoke he did not look at her. “You shouldn’t have come to Autumn.” Elain could not say it with certainty, but she could have sworn fear leaked slowly down their shared bond.
“Next time I’ll let you be killed,” Elain waved her hand dismissively. “What’s done is done, I can hardly tell your father I’ve changed my mind.”
“I think we’re well past that,” Lucien confirmed. The silence between them was awkward, and Elain wished they had separate rooms, despite knowing it was for the best that they were together.
She could feel Lucien’s gaze on her, but Elain was looking at the comfortable armchair by the fireplace. She cleared her throat, “You take the bed.”
Lucien did not argue with her, a testament to how utterly drained he must have been, Elain concluded.
“Thank you, Elain,” he said softly, sincerely.
Elain was left with the impression that Lucien was thanking her for more than just the bed.
Notes:
thank you to everyone reading, and to those who comment <3
Chapter Text
The Forest House was always at its loveliest in the morning, Lucien knew, and while he had not stepped foot in his childhood home in decades, it was almost as though no time had passed.
Warm sunlight filtered in through the arched windows, falling leaves created an ever-moving pattern along the stone walls. Lucien could smell the sweet pastries being baked in the kitchens mixed with the always present scent of crisp apples. It was too early for anyone else to be wandering the ancient hallways, none of the nobles or aristocrats awake just yet.
It was peaceful, nearly enough so as to make Lucien forget all of his less pleasant memories in Autumn.
The sharp pain shooting up his side made Lucien wince, bringing him back to the harsh present. He was feeling much better than he had the night before, still a little bruised and sore, but no longer exhausted from the injuries.
Lucien wondered if Elain’s presence had been the reason for his swift recovery, whether being in his mate’s proximity was to thank for his overnight healing.
When Lucien had left their shared suite, Elain had still been asleep. She had been curled up on the armchair by the fireplace, the flames low, a fur blanket pulled up to her chin. Lucien had been struck with how lovely she was, curls framing her face rather endearingly, but even in sleep Elain had looked troubled.
Elain’s brow had been furrowed, her full lips pulled down at the corners in a small frown, like she had been unable to rest.
Lucien had blamed it on the fact that she could hardly be comfortable confined to the armchair, and while he had appreciated how she had not hesitated to offer him the bed, he had been annoyed with himself the following day for not having insisted otherwise at the time.
Lucien had clambered under the covers with no argument after having washed up, Elain had been pretending to sleep, obviously to avoid speaking with him any more. Lucien had allowed Elain that, had considered it the least he could do for her after she had faced his father, but he regretted not pushing her to take the bed.
The sound of Lucien’s boots hitting the stone floor echoed around him as he continued to walk the halls.
He was unsure of how he could properly thank Elain for what she had done, for the danger she had put herself in. The idea of finding her lady’s maid came to Lucien as he had been searching through the already full closet, glad that whoever had set the rooms had thought of it. The clothes he had been wearing were ripped and stained with his blood, even the style would have been considered inappropriate for the court he had been raised in.
Lucien had not yet run into the female that had come to Autumn with Elain, still nameless and faceless to him, but he had been certain in his ability to spot her despite the fact.
Lucien knew Elain would feel more comfortable with a familiar face, more at ease with someone who simply was not him. Lucien hoped he would find her lady’s maid, but that had not been the only reason he had woken up so early, had left Elain alone.
The Lady of Autumn liked drinking her morning coffee on a balcony Lucien had long ago begun referring to as his mother’s. Seeing her in the throne room the night before had been enough to rattle Lucien, the way she had clung to the High Lord familiar. Even in Lucien’s earliest memories, the Lady of Autumn would try to spare all her children from her husband’s wrath, unafraid for her own well-being.
Lucien was pulled from his thoughts at the sound of the sharp whistle behind him, the kind Eris so often used to command his hounds. Lucien stopped walking suddenly, his hands curling into fists at his sides.
“Morning, fox,” the greeting rough, cruel amusement lacing the words.
Instead of waiting for a response from Lucien, a second voice followed the first. “You’re looking much better, little brother. Spending the night with your mate seems to have done you a world of good.”
Ronan’s answering chuckle was enough to make Lucien’s blood boil. He turned around to face his brothers, having to contain the snarl that wanted to escape his lips. Lucien had not heard them approach, too wrapped up in his own thoughts.
Felix raised an elegant auburn brow. “Surprising that she’s not with you now,” his frown was convincingly disappointed. “When will you be introducing us?”
Never, Lucien thought. He had to stop himself from snapping the word. Instead, he ran his tongue over his teeth, took a deep breath. “You can meet her tomorrow, with the rest of the court.” Lucien hoped his tone suggested the decision was final.
“No exceptions are to be made for family?” Ronan grinned, knowing well that Lucien had not considered himself their brother since the moment Jesminda’s heart had stopped beating.
Lucien hated them both in equal measure. Ronan for the role he had played in his lover’s death, and Felix for the simple fact that he was horrible. As a child, Lucien had tried to win their affection, and had been confused by their constant rejection of him.
Lucien tamed his growing anger, choosing to answer calmly instead. “Afraid not.”
“Pity,” flames flared in Ronan’s dark eyes as he shrugged. “I hear she’s lovely.”
Lucien growled then, uncontrollable. Perhaps it was jealousy, he thought, the bond pushing him to act in such a way. If Lucien could have it his way, Elain would never have needed to meet his brothers, she would have never needed to step foot in Autumn. Lucien silently cursed Eris for getting his mate involved.
Ronan looked pleased by Lucien’s reaction, and it seemed like he was about to continue taunting his youngest brother, but he did not get the chance.
Not as Eris winnowed effortlessly between them. Lucien had always envied his eldest brother’s ability to step through space as easily as breathing. Eris made no show of his magic, creating an effect that Lucien considered rather unsettling.
“Are we having a reunion in the middle of the hall?” Eris drawled, the tone of his voice enough to bring matching scowls to Felix and Ronan’s faces.
Lucien could barely hide his grin as his other brothers inched further away now that Eris had arrived, as their expressions failed to hide their fear. Eris was a High Lord’s heir, and even Lucien was wary around such power.
“We thought we should welcome Lucien,” Felix offered. “It’s been an age since he’s stayed at the Forest House.”
Eris waved his hand dismissively. “You both have more important business to attend to,” he glared at Lucien, “I must speak with our little brother.”
Before Lucien could respond, Eris grabbed onto his shoulder roughly, winnowing them both to a different part of the ancient complex.
Eris let go of Lucien with a parting shove. “Do me a favour and go an entire day without being useless,” he hissed.
If the circumstances had been any different, Lucien would not have taken insult to Eris’s words. He had long ago gotten used to the way Eris spoke, every sentence sharp as thorns.
But it was because of Eris that Rhysand and Feyre had let Elain come for Lucien, that his mate was stuck in Autumn, their wedding date set. Lucien had well and truly had enough of Eris and his meddling.
Swift as an adder, Lucien lunged at Eris, grabbing him by the collar. He threw Eris against the stone wall. “How could you?” He spat, ignoring the way his brother grunted in pain. “Why in the hell would you bring my mate, my mate, to this cauldron forsaken court?”
Eris rolled his eyes, hardly concerned. He made no effort to free himself from Lucien’s grip. “Is she made of porcelain?”
Eris’s question was enough to make Lucien release his hold on his brother’s jacket. “Father will–”
“Do nothing,” Eris interrupted. “He’ll do nothing so long as he wants to remain in the Night Court’s good graces.” He ran a hand through his hair, “Spend enough time in Velaris and you start acting like Rhysand and his ilk. Elain chose to come, I hardly forced her.”
Lucien was growing frustrated, but Eris was his only ally in Autumn. With a sigh, he rubbed the heels of his palms against his eyes. He did not trust Eris to have been entirely honest with Elain, to have warned her of the situation she would be getting herself into. “Rhysand and Feyre just let you take her?”
“I doubt they would have been able to stop her, she’s quite stubborn, made quite a fuss over the whole thing.” Lucien watched as Eris shrugged, “She convinced me to let her take a lady’s maid. Your mate strikes me as a female unlikely to take no for an answer.”
Lucien felt fear, steady like the flow of a river, creeping into his veins. “If anything happens to her–”
“Stop worrying,” Eris interrupted once more. “I don’t care to hear your concerns.” Lucien bristled, ready to snap a response, but Eris had not finished. “Besides, your mate is looking for you.”
Lucien had grown tired of Eris’s games. With one final glare cast in his eldest brother’s direction, he summoned his magic, glowing gold as he winnowed to Elain.
Notes:
thank you for reading :)
Chapter Text
Elain crouched by the shores of a lake, her skirts the colour of wet dirt. The waters were dark, nearly black, and Elain was left with the impression that they were endless, no bottom to their depths. Elain reached out with her hand, the tips of her fingers creating ripples with the softest of touches. The water was so cold, Elain gasped in shock, the sound like thunder in the eerie silence.
Elain could see the reflection of the night sky in the lake, stars winking at her like shimmering diamonds. The sky was clear, not a single cloud to be seen, but Elain frowned. She turned her attention from the waters, tilting her neck back, searching for the moon.
Elain’s growing panic, a heavy and sinking stone, was made worse as she sensed someone approaching, soundless.
A lone wolf howled, the wind carrying its agony. Elain felt a scream struggling to escape from deep within her chest, her throat tight –
Elain woke up with a start, her eyes flying open, heart beating like a drum. Her unfamiliar surroundings did nothing to ease her nerves, but she slowly recalled where she was, how she had ended up spending the night in Autumn.
Elain’s dream had been unsettling, everything sharp and so close to reality. She ran her hands through her hair, still feeling the phantom cold of the lake water on the tips of her fingers. She was reminded of the dream she had in Velaris, before Eris had come for her.
At the time, Elain had convinced herself not to worry, that it had nothing to do with the cauldron’s curse, with the visions that had plagued her before the war. As Elain rubbed the sleep from her eyes, she came to the conclusion that something was decidedly wrong.
With a weary sigh, Elain wondered if her abilities might be reacting to her mate’s proximity, to the bond between them.
Lucien.
Elain jolted in her seat, hugging the fur blanket around herself as she turned to look at the bed. The sheets were tucked under the comfortable mattress, the pillows placed carefully against the headboard, seeming as though no one had spent the night there.
Elain would have expected to feel relief at Lucien’s absence, but was surprised at the disappointment that bloomed within her. Where could he have gone, Elain asked herself, frowning.
Briefly, she worried that the High Lord of Autumn had simply changed his mind, had decided that she would be spared but Lucien’s life was forfeit. All she had done would be for nothing if Lucien were killed. Elain threw the blanket from her shoulders, but just as panic began to grip her, Elain dismissed the thought. There would be no point in Beron doing such a thing, she was sure.
Elain guessed Lucien had merely gone to find Eris, or perhaps he had decided to see his mother. Elain knew from Feyre’s stories that the Lady of Autumn was brave, having risked her life under the mountain to help her sister. Rhysand had even mentioned how deeply Lucien cared for his mother, how it pained him that he was unable to see her.
“Lucien’s fine,” she mumbled to herself, nodding as though she were confirming the thought.
Elain blew a stray curl from where it had fallen in front of her eyes. She was a bit embarrassed with how much she knew about Lucien, considering how she never spoke with him.
Elain collected bits of information on her mate like someone might collect rare and lovely coins. She would learn about him, feel guilty for wanting to know more, and promptly choose to go about her business as though it meant nothing to her.
Elain could hear his heart beating through the stone.
With a frustrated huff, Elain stood from the chair she had spent the night on. Her shoulders were stiff and she stretched her arms with a yawn. In the light streaming in through the windows, Elain looked more closely at the suite. Everything was organised, the few dresses she had brought were already hanging in the closet.
Elain began to get ready, choosing one of the warmer dresses she had and placing it on the bed as she went about her morning routine. Elain’s mind quickly went to Cora, and she hoped rather selfishly that the other woman had not been sent back to the Night Court.
Once Elain had prepared herself for the day ahead, she couldn’t help but curiously wander around the room, checking in every drawer, under all the pillows. She even placed her hand close to the fireplace, checking to see if the flames would burn her. Elain snatched her hand away quickly, embers flying, taking note that the fire was very much real.
Elain’s slippers were soundless as she stepped across carpet and stone, making her way to the oak doors that led to the hallway. The gold handle was cool to the touch, and as quietly as she could, Elain checked to see if it was locked.
With surprising ease, she was able to open the heavy door. Only a fraction, just to peak outside. Elain saw no one lingering outside the suite, no guard, although she assumed at least one would be stationed nearby.
Elain nearly jumped out of her skin as she heard approaching footsteps, the low rumble of a man speaking. As carefully as she could, Elain shut the door once more, wincing at the soft snick of the lock falling into place.
Out of pure interest, Elain pressed her ear to the aged wood.
Perhaps the nobles had woken, Elain knew many lived within the Forest House, that it was large enough to be a small city, and the halls would soon reflect lively and busy streets.
Elain bit her lip in focus, waiting patiently, her fae ears straining, but she caught the familiar timber of Eris’s voice as he spoke quietly.
While Elain could not deny that she was very curious to hear what Eris might be saying and to whom, she stepped away from the door, knowing that in a matter of moments he would knock.
The three short taps as Eris’s knuckles hit the wood between them still startled Elain despite how she had been expecting it.
“Elain?” Eris’s voice followed the knocks, muffled. While not unkind, there was a sternness to his question. Elain noticed how he had not called for Lucien.
Elain waited a moment, so as not to reveal that she was standing by the doors. She straightened her skirts, taking care that there was not a single wrinkle on the fabric. She took a breath, knowing that Eris would not harm her, but still feeling a slight unease in his presence.
Elain opened the doors, her expression pleasant. Eris looked tired, she noticed, his amber eyes dim. Elain did not dwell on it though, not as her gaze flicked past the imposing prince of Autumn and went straight to Cora at his side.
Cora’s hair was loose, falling in pretty waves to her waist. She was lovely in a modest, dark brown dress with golden leaves stitched along the sleeves, and even though it was simple, Elain still found her beautiful.
Elain could have hugged the other woman in relief, glad that her impulsive actions had not resulted in any harm coming to Cora. Elain was sure she would not have been able to live with herself if anything had happened to her lady’s maid, regardless if they barely knew one another.
Before Elain could utter a word, Cora’s shoulders relaxed. “I’m so glad you’re alright.”
The feeling was mutual, Elain flashed a sincere smile her way, but she did not get the chance to respond. Not as Eris seemed to think it would be ideal to cut their conversation short.
Eris wordlessly walked past Elain and into the room as though it were his own. She could do nothing but shoot Cora a questioning look, following Eris further into the suite and leaving Cora to close the door behind them all.
The heir of Autumn’s observant eyes lingered on the chair by the fireplace. Elain saw as they took notice of the cosy blanket heaped on the cushions, the flattened pillow still resting against the arm. “Slept well?” He raised an auburn brow at her, knowing exactly where she had spent the night.
“Yes, thank you,” Elain responded politely, “the room is lovely.”
With a mocking little tilt of his head, Eris acknowledged her words. There was a stiffness to his movements, somewhat less elegant then when she had seen him last.
“Where’s Lucien gone?” Eris asked, glancing around the space. He seemed unconcerned, no hint of what he might be thinking on his blank face.
Elain’s lips tugged down as she frowned involuntarily. “I wouldn’t know.” She tried to shrug off the fact that she was bothered by how Lucien had not told her, or left her a note at the very least. “He was already gone by the time I’d woken up.”
Eris took a small breath, his nostrils flaring. “Well, he hasn’t been gone long.”
Elain wanted to ask how Eris would know such a thing, but instead she said, “I thought he might have been with you.”
Eris scoffed, “I doubt he wants to speak with me.”
Elain watched as Cora looked at Eris, how her eyes went to him only to quickly look elsewhere.
“Should he really be on his own?” Elain asked, trying to keep the concern from leaking into her question.
As Eris settled his amber eyes on Elain, she felt as if he could well and truly see inside her mind. Something flashed in his assessing gaze, and he hummed softly at the emotions he must have seen reflecting in Elain’s dark eyes. “I suppose you have a point,” he offered in response.
With the smallest of bows in her direction, Eris turned to do the same in Cora’s, embers falling from the tips of his fingers. Elain could have sworn a blush stained the other woman’s cheeks, perhaps in surprise that a High Lord’s son would offer her such respect.
Eris did not bother using the doors, opting to winnow.
There was a beat of silence after his departure before Cora spoke. “Isn’t he frustrating?”
“He’s quite literally the only ally we have,” Elain smiled in amusement, “I guess we have to get used to him.” She did not admit that she rather liked Eris, or at least, she liked the man he presented to her.
Cora scrunched her nose as she walked further into the room and went straight to the windows, pulling the heavy curtains open all the way. She watched the falling leaves, captivated, her hands resting on the sill. “At least he’s nice to look at,” she mumbled.
Elain couldn’t help her giggle as she followed the other woman, looking at colourful trees as far as the eye could see.
“You’re getting married, I hear,” Cora added, still staring out the window.
Elain breathed in deeply, taking longer than necessary to exhale. “Eris told you?”
“He didn’t have to, it’s all everyone's talking about.” Cora flicked her hair over her shoulder before turning to look at Elain. “All the servants are gossiping about it, and I even overheard some nobles whispering your name.”
Elain’s lips parted in shock.
Cora smiled at her, her expression reassuring, enough to comfort Elain. “Don’t look so surprised, Lucien was well-loved in Autumn and your sister is Prythian’s saviour.”
“I’ve been told gossip spreads like wildfire in this court,” Elain breathed a small and nervous laugh. “I just hadn’t been expecting it to be so literal.”
Cora opened her mouth to respond, but she stopped short as Lucien winnowed into the suite, golden light flaring around him.
Cora did not jump, almost like she was entirely used to handsome men appearing from thin air. Perhaps she was, Elain wondered how old the other woman could be, assuming that after a certain age very little could be considered surprising. Elain, though, was startled, taking a step back so that she nearly bumped into the wall.
Lucien bowed to Cora in greeting, an Autumn court custom, Elain concluded. “Lady,” he said softly, before he turned to Elain. His gaze lingered, and Elain fought the urge to swoon as he said the same to her.
Elain bit the inside of her cheek in frustration at how she responded to his every word. Cora seemed completely charmed, and jealousy, brief and annoying, flashed within Elain.
With a stammer Cora excused herself, almost stumbling over her own skirts as she practically ran to the door. With one last parting look in Elain’s direction, a final check to see if she was alright, Cora closed the door to the suite behind her.
“Hello, Elain,” he said rather formally, his hands behind his back, shoulders straight. His golden eye clicked into place, the russet one bright, the colour rich and lovely.
Elain kept her fingers laced and her arms in front of her. “Good morning, Lucien.”
At her words, Elain watched as he stiffened, a puppet with his strings pulled taut. Lucien cleared his throat, “Eris said you were looking for me.”
“I wasn’t,” Elain interjected, her words clipped. She saw hurt flash across his expression, but if she had blinked she would have missed it. “I mean, I was just… I suppose I was worried, that’s all.” Elain decided to offer him some honesty, to confess her thoughts to him so that he might understand her a little better.
Lucien nodded, his face clear of all emotions, but the bond between them suggested he was just a bit saddened, perhaps regretful. “Then I apologise, that wasn’t my intention.”
Elain clenched her jaw as she considered apologising for being so short with Lucien the night before, but she knew well that she would not have meant it and dismissed the idea quickly.
The silence between them was awkward, but Elain allowed herself to take her mate in, her brown eyes raking over him. Some part of her was pleased as she heard his heart skip a beat, but she knew it was just the bond.
Elain frowned, she ran her fingers through her hair. “What do we do now?” Her question was sincere and she wondered if Lucien could feel how anxious she was now that the dust seemed to have settled.
“I mean,” Lucien started, Elain tracked the way he licked his lips, “we do have a wedding to plan.” Her eyes widened at the suggestion until she realised it was a joke. “Or, if it pleased you,” he quickly added, “we could go to the library?”
Elain could acknowledge that Lucien was trying, and she appreciated how he attempted to make her feel at ease. Still, Elain prayed he did not get his hopes up, that he understood where her mind was in regards to their bond.
Elain flashed him a small, genuine smile in response. She tucked a stray curl behind her arched ear, and for the first time in years, she did not notice its faerie shape. “I wouldn’t mind going to the library.”
She took a few careful steps towards Lucien, towards the oak doors leading outside their shared suite. Elain almost reared back as his scent enveloped her, at the feeling of wanting to press her face against his neck and breathe in deeply. She pushed the thought aside, hoping he was unaware.
Lucien did not offer her his arm, and Elain was grateful, but a small voice inside her head urged her to reach for her mate all the same.
Notes:
more elain and lucien interactions in the next part!!! thank you for reading, and to those who comment <3
Chapter Text
Lucien walked beside Elain as he continued to lead them towards the loveliest library in the Forest House. She was so unusually close that the stone hallway felt too small, the walls closing in around him. If he wished, he could have brushed the fingers of his hand against her knuckles.
Lucien tried not to glance at his mate, but failed rather miserably. He could see Elain’s pretty brown eyes taking in her surroundings carefully, trying to track where they were going. Lucien knew from experience that it would take Elain and Cora both some time before the two females grew accustomed to the sprawling complex, a city in its own right.
Cora walked silently on the stones just a bit behind them and Lucien wondered briefly what kind of shoes she was hiding beneath her long skirts. Her steps were noiseless, like she was floating, almost as though Lucien and Elain were alone.
Perhaps involuntarily, Elain moved even closer to him. Lucien nearly offered her his arm, but thought better of it. He did not think she would appreciate it, but Lucien could still feel the phantom grip of her hand on his own as they had been escorted to their shared suite the night before.
Thoughtlessly, Lucien had left her alone when he had woken up, and while he was sure Eris had slightly exaggerated Elain’s words, he knew that Elain did not like the fact that he had declined to tell her where he planned to go.
Through their bond, Lucien could feel her frustration with him over it, a slow thrum over that bridge between two souls. It had come as a shock to Lucien when Elain had agreed to go to the library, even with her lady’s maid joining.
Elain was clearly uneasy with their current predicament, and Lucien could not even blame her.
“The Autumn Court is lovely,” Elain politely offered in the quiet. She did not look towards him, keeping her gaze steady and ahead.
Lucien nodded in response. The court he had been raised in was genuinely beautiful, stunning, especially for someone who had never visited before. Lucien did not mention how cruel of a place it could be. “I always thought so.”
Lucien said nothing more, unsure if Elain was truly looking for a conversation to start between them, or if she simply wanted the awkward silence that had befallen to end.
Lucien ran a hand through his hair, the gesture a nervous habit. He caught as Elain seemingly stopped breathing, her heartbeat racing.
With a furrowed brow, Lucien looked at her, hesitating to ask if she was alright.
Much to Lucien’s relief, Cora spoke before he did. With hurried steps, she caught up to Elain, hardly worried. “Forgive me, but if I might speak out of turn,” her voice carried in the hall, her accent thick with the rhythm of the Hewn City.
“That’s nonsense,” Elain mumbled, her shoulders relaxing.
Lucien felt his lips turn up, the smallest of smiles at how Elain did not even consider that Cora was technically working for the Night Court. He could hear the way Cora’s tone changed immediately, suddenly more comfortable.
“How does anyone manage to get around this place?” She made a careless gesture with her hand, the golden thread along her sleeve flashing. “All of it looks the same,” she addressed him with a dark brow raised.
Lucien noticed for the first time how lovely she was, his focus almost always having been entirely on Elain since the moment he had seen his mate in his father’s throne room. Cora’s jaw was sharp, her lips full, an elegant bump just on the bridge of her nose. Her dark brows framed even darker eyes, a blush staining her high cheekbones when Lucien faced her fully.
“You get used to it,” he responded warmly. “It takes some time, but I’m sure you’ll find your way around easily enough by the week’s end.”
“Callum Vanserra escorted me to the servant’s quarters yesterday.” Cora tucked a long strand of hair behind her pointed ear. Lucien took note of how she did not add a title to his brother’s name and he liked her boldness, her blatant disregard for another court’s prince. “I think he led me past the library, but I can’t tell if we even walked by here,” she added with a nervous laugh.
Lucien offered Cora a genuine smile. “Remind me, then, to take you to your room before Elain and I return to ours.”
“Callum is your older brother?” Elain’s question caught Lucien by surprise, a knowing smile flashed along Cora’s lips as the other female turned away from him.
Elain cleared her throat awkwardly, as if asking the question had caught her by surprise as well. Lucien could feel a small burst of possessiveness flashing along the bond, the way Elain urged him to pay attention to her with a tug on that invisible string.
Jealousy.
“Callum is third-born, practically ancient.” Lucien looked to see how Elain would react. Her eyes were wide with curiosity, the weight of her full regard too heavy for him. An amazing actress, she hid her emotions so well, Lucien thought. He faced away from Elain once more. “He was a child during the first war, and was raised in Xian, by my maternal grandmother.”
Elain nodded along, interest lining her expression. Lucien could see her from the corner of his eye and decided that was much better, her beauty easier to bear. Like looking straight at the sun, painful and yet the desire was there.
“Will you tell me about the others?” Elain asked, looking up at him, her steps in time with his own.
Lucien shrugged, he hated all his brothers equally. “There’s not much to tell.” He felt another pull on the bond and could not help facing his mate.
“I should probably know more about your family,” he watched as a scarlet blush bloomed on Elain’s pale cheeks. “We are getting married, after all.”
A genuine laugh spilled from Lucien’s lips at her tone. “I suppose you’re right.”
“It happens on occasion,” she clipped, her blush deepening in colour.
Lucien tore his gaze from Elain for a moment to flash Cora a concerned look, wondering whether he should speak in front of the other female about his brothers. His golden eye whirred.
“I won’t repeat a word of this to anyone,” Cora rushed to reassure him, noticing the way Lucien glanced at her. “My lips are completely sealed.”
Lucien ran his hand through his hair, sighing. He decided it hardly mattered what Elain’s lady’s maid knew in regards to his family. He turned his attention back to Elain, only to find her looking at him intently. “You haven’t met Felix, but he’s only a few years older than me.”
“You were close with him.” Elain’s statement suggested that was the only logical conclusion in her mind.
“Not at all,” Lucien scoffed. “He only ever looks out for himself, silver-tongued, a perfect emissary. Felix can convince the most stubborn of nobles to see his point of view, sway their opinions in his favour.”
Elain hummed in understanding, but Lucien still did not think she could completely grasp the twisted relationship he had with his brothers.
“Felix is on good terms with Ronan, I think.” Lucien could never be too sure where the loyalty of each Autumn prince lay, or how quickly they might turn on one another if the right circumstances were to arise. “Ronan works closely with my father, his flames strong enough to make him a worthy contender for the crown.” He frowned as Elain silently coaxed him to go on with only her eyes. “Like I said, there’s not much to tell.”
Lucien continued walking, the library’s carved wooden doors only a few steps away. He did not need to raise his hand to open them, despite how heavy they were, glad that they were still unlocked and open to anyone who wished to enter.
“And Eris?” Elain asked, her brows raised. Surely she had heard about his eldest brother’s reputation, Lucien thought, but he was the only one of his brothers Elain had truly interacted with. It made sense that Elain would want to know more.
Lucien almost stopped in his tracks as he considered her question. “Eris is…”
A snake.
The male who raised me.
My favourite brother.
“Eris is Eris,” he said with a shrug, the gesture and his statement so ridiculous he winced. With his eldest brother, everything was achingly more complicated. “The best and worst of Autumn, sure to be my father’s heir.”
“When you scowl, you look like him.” Elain’s statement was a throwaway, hardly considered, but Lucien frowned. He slowed his steps so that she could walk past him and into the library, Cora still at her side.
Lucien followed after them just in time to catch Elain marvelling at the sight before her.
There were countless towering shelves pushed against the walls and in neat rows all around the large room. The golden spines of some of the rarer books glimmered in the light of the torches, all of them carefully spelled by librarians and priestesses against catching alight. Lucien knew that these were some of the only books in all of Prythian that remained untouched after Amarantha’s reign, and he felt a strange sense of pride for it.
In the middle of the library, between a pair of shelves, stood the remains of a hollowed tree. The leafless branches seemed to hold up the ceiling, the gnarled trunk shaped in a way that resembled a fireplace. Thick roots created nooks near the trunk, perfect for private reading, before they disappeared like waves on a beach beneath the stone of the floor.
Lucien waved his hand and flames came to life in the emptied space of the ancient maple.
Wonder shone bright as sunlight in Elain’s eyes as she turned to Lucien, all sincerity. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” she breathed.
Lucien smiled at the sight, the way her walls had come down. “Some say that this library rivals even the ones in the Day Court.”
“I can imagine how that might be the case,” Elain shyly smiled, shaking her head as she walked deeper into the room.
Lucien watched as Elain reached out, careful fingers tracing the leather bound books on the shelf nearest to her. Brown eyes skimmed the titles of each one, she bit her lower lip as she went on the tips of her toes, peeking at some of the scrolls on a higher row.
Lucien felt like he was intruding.
He tried to turn his attention to Cora, but the Night Court female had silently scurried away, leaving Lucien and Elain alone. Lucien decided that Cora was perhaps a meddlesome busybody before he simply followed Elain further into the library.
Elain pulled a scarlet book off the shelf, the pages yellowed with the passage of time. Lucien raised both his brows as he stood behind her, as he read the looping script on the cover.
A Complete History of Autumn’s Blood Duels.
“Looking for some light reading?”
Elain did not look at Lucien as she flipped through the book, lifting her shoulders in an elegant shrug. “I’ve heard the term once, just curious.”
“It’s probably full of some very gruesome details,” he warmed. A memory flashed in Lucien’s mind, one from his childhood. He had stolen a similar tome off Callum’s nightstand as a boy, and had had to sleep on the armchair in Eris’s room for days as a result.
“I’m sure I can handle it.”
Lucien recognized that there was a bite to Elain’s words, as though she was not simply speaking about the book in her hands. It was a hidden anger, a crack in her ever so carefully crafted mask. All her pleasant smiles, all her words dripping with honeyed falsehoods were no longer directed at Lucien, and he was surprised to realise that he was glad for it.
“Of that, I have no doubt,” Lucien offered quietly, hoping Elain understood the full meaning behind his response.
Elain’s head snapped up quickly as she turned to look up at him, their eyes locking. The full force of the mating bond was a knife to his chest as her scent washed over him, sweet like blooming jasmine.
Lucien wondered if Elain felt the same overwhelming pull as her eyes darkened a shade, as she leaned closer only to breathe in deeply.
Their hearts were beating steadily in a matching rhythm, and Lucien forced himself to take a step back.
Like a curse shattering, Elain whirled on her heel faerie-quick, holding the book tightly against her chest.
As though nothing had occurred, Elain went back to focusing solely on the books on the shelves in front of her. Lucien watched her for a moment, before he too turned his attention to a different shelf.
With a weary sigh, Lucien concluded that if he and Elain could survive their time in Autumn, he would suffer the most torturous two weeks of his immortal life.
Notes:
thank you to everyone reading, and to those who comment and leave kudos <3
Chapter 10: Part X
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Elain had not slept well.
Once again she had taken to sleeping curled up on the armchair by the fireplace in the suite she shared with Lucien. Elain could still feel the ghost of his defeat as she practically forced him to take the bed for the second night in a row, this time for entirely different reasons.
When they had returned from the library, without Cora to break their awkward silence, Lucien had quietly asked Elain whether she wanted to sleep more comfortably. He correctly guessed that she had had a restless night, considering the events of the last couple of days.
Elain found Lucien’s genuine concern charming. Had she not felt his muted emotions so strongly, she would have accused him of feigning such kindness.
Elain was not shy when it came to politely slighting men she did not care for, a skill she had learned in the ballrooms of her childhood and had carefully honed as an adult. When it came to Lucien, Elain could admit that he had suffered her forced indifference for years without so much as the slightest bend on her part.
Elain’s mind had been entirely made up with regards to the man the fates had seen fit to curse her with. She did not want a mate, and so she would go about her life as if Lucien Vanserra did not exist.
Elain’s decision was always infinitely more difficult when Lucien was near, his scent lingered in the air of every room he stepped into, sweet apples and summer mornings. Elain would have taken the bed had she not been gripped with horror at the awful realisation that the sheets, the pillows, would smell as he did.
Elain knew it would have driven her mad, and so she lifted her chin and set her jaw before she practically ordered that Lucien take the bed. Much to Elain’s surprise, he did not argue, but she could feel a steady sadness leaking down their shared bond.
Elain had slept fitfully, but at least no dreams had plagued her, and for that she was thankful.
As Elain beheld her reflection in the towering mirror, she was also thankful that despite her restless night, she looked as lovely and refreshed as ever.
Elain still tended to avoid mirrors. The faerie she now saw resembled the woman she had been before, disconcerting in their similarities and yet unsettling in their differences. Elain would not have recognized herself in passing. She saw the way her lips tugged down at the corners, misery marred her expression, beautiful despite it.
“Autumn’s colours suit you, Elain Archeron of Night.” If Eris saw the tightness around her mouth, he did not mention it. Elain watched the way his amber eyes flashed in amusement through the mirror’s reflection.
Even Elain could admit that Eris was right, the deep emerald colour of her gown matched well with her dark eyes. The golden details along the sleeves shone as bright as some of the sun bleached curls Cora had so carefully pinned back for her, the column of her neck exposed. The corset Cora had laced for Elain was comfortable, her breaths easy, heavy skirts fell to the floor, hiding slippers made from the same fabric.
“You could be a queen,” Cora said sincerely, nodding in agreement with Eris’s statement. “All you’re missing is a crown.”
Elain hoped that the High Lord of Autumn would think the same. She was nervous, her own anxiety mixing with Lucien’s as the time passed slowly and they both began to get ready separately for the welcome Beron had planned for the son he had exiled.
Elain prayed that attending balls in the Hewn City had prepared her for the long evening ahead, and hoped that she could muster Feyre’s confidence and the smallest bit of Nesta’s poise. She found herself missing her sisters desperately. She missed Cassian, Rhysand, Azriel and his quiet but friendly presence. She missed Nyx most of all, discouraged without her family’s steady but constant support and love.
Elain tore her gaze from the mirror, no longer able to bear the sight. “Thank you for all the help,” she said rather weakly, hoping her smile looked genuine as she faced her lady’s maid.
Cora would also be joining the celebrations, and Elain was infinitely grateful for the other woman’s willingness to remain by her side. She wondered what Cora had said to Eris to convince him so easily that she should be present, but Elain quickly pushed the thought aside, promising to herself that she would bring it up when they were alone.
“Do yourself, and those forced to be in your presence, a favour, Elain,” Eris continued, stepping so close she could see every sparkling diamond along the arch of his ear. “Never wear Night Court colours again, they drain you of all life.”
Elain looked up at Eris briefly, fighting the childlike urge to cross her arms at him. She focused on straightening her skirts, her movements elegant. “I think that’s just your presence,” Elain mumbled, the words low enough she could deny them if they had offended the arrogant prince.
Cora and Elain shared a surprised glance at the amused breath Eris released, not quite a laugh, but certainly charmed. She could have sworn that one corner of his mouth tilted up in the smallest of smiles, a glimmer of joy in his usually empty eyes. Had Elain blinked, she would have missed it.
Elain noticed the way Cora’s dark eyes remained on the Autumn heir longer than usual, as her gaze slowly took him in. He was handsome, Elain supposed, in the strange way that the High Fae so often were.
“No crown for you just yet, Elain,” expression once again serious, Eris lifted his hands just slightly, pale palms up. For an awkward moment, Elain wondered if she was supposed to do the same. Elain jumped, startled, when Eris summoned a small wooden box from thin air into his ready hands.
The rubies on the rings of each of Eris’s fingers flashed in the light of the setting sun as he handed Elain the box carefully. She had not known what to expect, but she could not help the surprised parting of her lips as she opened the lid.
Elain traced the stunning comb, the gold shining, the metal looked as though it had just been polished. Shaped like the branch of a tree, little pearls were evenly placed between the small leaves. “This is…” Elain truly had no words, the accessory was so lovely, she went to lift the comb from the box, but Eris clicked his tongue in warning.
“Careful of the teeth, you’ll find they happen to be much sharper than expected.”
Elain paused, eyes flicking to Eris before she lifted the comb from its case. “A weapon?” she asked, disbelief in her tone.
Eris shrugged, the wine red fabric of his jacket straining with the motion. “I don’t suppose they taught you how to handle a dagger in the Night Court?” Elain shook her head at him, and he did not seem surprised by her admission. With a wave of his hand, the case disappeared and Elain was left with just the comb in her hand. “Then this is better, should someone bother you, aim for the eyes.”
Elain’s own eyes widened at the thought. “Do you – I mean, is it likely that I would need this at all?” She was uncomfortable with the suggestion that she might need to fight someone. If Eris had hoped to settle her nerves, he was achieving the opposite.
Eris raised an auburn brow, scowling as he responded. “You’re not in the City of Starlight anymore, Elain. I’ll tell you now and you would do well to remember this piece of advice for the remainder of your stay in Autumn. Be armed always.”
Elain felt her panic as it choked her. She merely nodded, knowing that if she spoke her voice would have been small with fear.
“Don’t worry,” Cora interjected, rushing to reassure Elain. “Lucien will be with you at all times, I doubt any harm would come to us with him by our side.”
“I doubt you, too, would need Lucien’s protection, considering you’ve been armed to the teeth since you stepped foot onto these lands,” Eris clipped.
Cora cast a withering glare at Eris, tension in her shoulders at his sharp tone. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Elain still held the comb in her hand, her gaze flicking between the two, wondering if Eris would send the other woman home if he was always so annoyed with her presence.
“I don’t even fault you for it,” Eris offered, his voice quiet and measured, but his eyes assessed Cora’s stance closely. “I just wonder how a lady’s maid from the Hewn City got her lovely hands on blades of Illyrian steel.”
Elain watched as Cora opened her mouth, ready to respond, but at the quick knock on the door, everyone seemed to pause.
“Elain?” Lucien’s deep voice was muffled by the thick oak separating them. Elain was relieved that her mate had arrived. “Are you ready?” He asked.
Cora and Eris were still locked in a silent battle, glaring at each other. If Elain had known Eris better, she might have even said that he looked pleased with himself. “Come in,” Elain called.
Again Lucien chose to winnow into the room, his presence overwhelming. When Elain was not near her mate, it was easier to ignore the bond. The only problem, Elain had noticed, was that once they shared the same space, warring feelings crashed over her like a wave.
You are mine.
The thought was so jarring, and yet Elain could admit that it was not as troubling as it had been at the beginning, during the war with Hybern and the months that followed. Elain was captivated by him, the bond demanding that she pay attention every time he walked into a room despite her best efforts.
Elain wondered if she would have felt the same without the bond connecting her to Lucien.
Elain thought her mate was beautiful. His dark red hair fell loosely around his face, golden eye clicking into place as the russet one fell on her. She watched as Lucien took a sharp breath, as he stopped moving entirely. Elain took a step back, knocking into Eris.
The action was enough for Lucien to shake his head, for her to refocus. Elain took in Lucien’s attire to distract herself. She started with Lucien’s tall riding boots, brown pants hugged his thighs. Elain felt herself blush as she quickly looked at his jacket, an emerald green the same colour as her gown.
Lucien bent just slightly at the waist in greeting. “You look beautiful.”
Elain could not look away from him, at the way his lips curled up into a knowing smile.
You are mine.
Eris cleared his throat and Elain waved her hand awkwardly in Lucien’s general direction. “So do you,” Elain said. As soon as the words left her mouth, Elain found herself wishing she could throw herself into a lake and simply sink to the bottom for all of eternity.
Elain looked to Cora, mortified, but the other woman flashed Elain an encouraging grin. Elain felt the tips of her pointed ears heat.
Lucien politely pretended not to notice, stepping further into the room. He might have said something had Eris not. “I should leave,” he announced, his amber gaze going from Lucien to Cora. “You should join me.” The tone of his voice suggested he would not be accepting no for an answer.
“Is the heir of the Autumn Court going to escort me to the ballroom?” Cora asked innocently.
Eris shrugged, the gesture lazy, “I usually escort nobles.” He tilted his head in a manner that reminded Elain of a wolf observing prey, offering Cora his arm like any good gentleman ought to do. “Consider yourself lucky that my exceedingly high standards have miraculously lowered for the evening.”
To Elain’s surprise, Cora took hold of Eris, her eyes never leaving his. “Watch yourself, prince, lest someone think you’re doing me a kindness.”
Elain looked at them both and she knew Lucien was doing the same. Without warning, Eris winnowed him and Cora from the room, sparks scattering in the empty space where they had been.
Elain was left alone with Lucien, all thoughts of Eris and Cora pushed from her mind as she took him in once more. He was so unbelievably handsome, Elain felt her heart skip several beats.
“I guess…” Lucien started, looking at Elain only for a moment before he turned his attention to a point past her head. “I think we should follow them.”
Elain nodded, taking a few careful steps towards her mate, wondering if Lucien would winnow them as well, or if they would walk the maze-like halls of the Forest House together. She looked up at him, glad that at least she would have him to help her navigate the event.
Despite it all, Elain trusted Lucien with her life. As she lifted a hand to reach for him, Elain finally remembered the stunning comb, still held tightly between her fingers.
“Help me with my hair first?” Elain did not know what possessed her to speak, but she regretted the words instantly.
Elain saw apprehension cloud Lucien’s features, but he hummed in response. “Of course.”
“It’s sharp,” Elain warned as she placed the accessory in Lucien’s open hand. As their fingers brushed, she held her breath.
Gently, as though she were made of glass, Lucien tilted her head. Careful of the comb’s teeth, Lucien delicately set it near some of the pins already holding Elain’s curls in place.
The whole world seemed to stop, and only that moment seemed to matter.
“Lovely,” Lucien murmured, his hands dropping to his side.
A spell broken, Elain felt like she could breathe again. The sound of Lucien’s voice ringing, soft like wind chimes, clashed with the one thought Elain could not shake from her mind.
You are mine.
Notes:
thank you so so much to everyone who has commented and left kudos <3
Chapter 11: Part XI
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Lucien tried but failed to settle the racing and unsteady beat of his heart.
Like the quick rhythm of hummingbird wings, Lucien could feel his own pulse fluttering softly in his throat. He was unsure of what to expect, what he might be forced to face once again within the walls of his childhood home. The unknowns created a deep sense of dread in his bones, the weight of his own anxiety unbelievably heavy.
Music could be heard, low and lovely, as Lucien led Elain with unhurried steps towards the looming oak doors just ahead of them. It was near haunting, echoing strangely along the empty stone corridors.
Elain walked close to Lucien’s side, each point of contact with him leaving a searing mark. Her arm was hooked through his, her shoulder pressed against him.
Lucien glanced at her briefly. He had thought Elain was devastatingly beautiful from the moment he had laid eyes on her, she was even more so in Autumn colours. The emerald fabric of her dress had a stunning effect on her eyes, darkening them by a few shades so that they looked like earth after a storm. He found that there was something regal about the way Elain held herself, that if she set her mind to it she could convince anyone that she had been born to rule.
Still, Lucien was worried. He did not trust his father, and he trusted his brothers even less. Eris had made it glaringly obvious that Elain’s well-being did not matter, considering he had brought her to Autumn. If anything happened to his mate, Lucien knew he would never be able to forgive himself.
As though she could sense where his thoughts were going, Elain brought her other hand up. Slowly caressing Lucien’s forearm in a gesture meant to comfort, Elain did not look at him before once again taking hold of her skirts.
Lucien’s shock was a shooting star, brief and fleeting. He was still finding it hard to believe that it was Elain’s choice to come for him, that she had considered his life worth the risk of her own.
“Any advice?” Elain’s question was soft as she tilted her head and turned to look up at him. It cut through the music, drawing Lucien’s focus instantly. They had not spoken since the moment they had left their shared suite, Lucien’s hand had been shaking with tiny tremors after having placed the comb in Elain’s hair.
Still walking, Lucien looked into Elain’s dark eyes, captivated. He had to remind himself that she was almost a stranger to him, and yet he felt as though he had always known her.
“I have a whole lifetime’s worth,” he offered her a crooked grin, unsure of what exactly he should tell her.
Elain looked up at him through her long lashes. “Seeing as we don’t have all the time in the world,” her lips tugged up in a small, amused smile. “Try and keep it brief.”
“No matter what anyone in that ballroom says, don’t let it get to you.” His grin faltered at her raised brow, and he wondered how he should phrase his next words so that they made more sense. “They’ll all be testing the waters, seeing if they can get a rise out of you—and me. Don’t let them.”
“Isn’t Autumn fire?” Elain asked, "I would have thought everyone’s emotions were raging.” She blushed suddenly, her cheeks turning a deep scarlet, and she quickly turned to look straight ahead.
Lucien continued to look at her, not wanting his gaze to fall anywhere else. “Just the opposite,” he shook his head, tearing his attention away from the pale column of Elain’s neck. “Our emotions, our reactions, even our flames…” Lucien shrugged, “everything must be tamed.”
Elain hummed in understanding, falling silent as they approached the ballroom.
Lucien glanced at the guards stationed by the entrance, searching their faces, trying to see if he perhaps recognized them. On a phantom wind, the doors swung open, revealing the already filled and busy hall. The music grew louder, the sound of the string instruments full of longing.
Elain pressed closer to Lucien’s side, clutching at his arm tightly. So no one else could hear, Lucien leaned down so that he could whisper. His lips were close to the arch of her ear, not touching her, but he could have sworn that he felt her shiver.
“Don’t worry, Elain.” He murmured, her heart beating faster. She seemed to have stopped breathing as soon as he finished his sentence.
Her name.
Lucien still rushed to reassure her, “I won’t let anything happen to you.” He meant the words more than he had meant anything else in his long life.
Her eyes wide, face tilted like she was his lover, set on placing a kiss on his jaw, Elain nodded. “I know,” she breathed, eyes locked for a moment before they both turned to look ahead.
Together, arms linked, a united front, they entered the room. Elain nearly stumbled, and Lucien tightened his grip on her arm, pausing. He waited, allowing her the opportunity to carefully take in the scene before them.
Looking like a forest, nearly a canopy, waves of High Fae dressed in the various colours of falling leaves gracefully walked along the floor of the ballroom. The incessant thrum of mingling, gossiping, rose above the sound of the music as everyone waited for the arrival of the High Lord.
The sun had fallen, and no light came in from the arched windows that spanned the entire length of the walls. The shimmering chandeliers and the countless fireplaces were lit instead, casting flickering shadows that drew Elain’s attention. Lucien noticed that the musicians had been set up near the table strewn with refreshments and pastries, on the large room’s farthest side.
No one turned to stare, but Lucien could feel eyes on him and Elain. He must look so different to them, and Lucien was struck with the sudden realisation that every faerie here would know his past, regardless if they personally knew him.
It was a terrible relief that Elan was unaware of Lucien’s history, he thought, and that as a result, she would have no expectations of him.
“Well, if it isn’t little Lucien Vanserra,” a female voice spoke from behind him, one that he easily recognized. Fighting the urge to wince, Lucien stiffened as he felt slender fingers trace along his back. He felt as Elain did the same, her spine straightening although she did not turn to see who had approached them.
Instead, Lucien flashed his practised courtier’s smile. “Lethe,” he said, her name rolled off his tongue sharply, familiar.
“Lady Lethe,” she corrected, her answering smile was all poison as she stood in front of them. Light brown hair pinned away from her face, falling in a long straight sheet to her waist, Elain’s eyes tracked Lethe’s every move carefully. In a decision that could only be considered a slight, Lethe did not look at Elain, did not acknowledge her presence. “I have lands to my name now.”
Lucien bowed his head in an apology of sorts. “You have my condolences then, for your husband,” he added. Knowing Lethe, she had probably orchestrated the whole thing, killed the elderly fae she had married and taken everything he had owned after his death. That, at least, Lucien could admire.
Lethe’s pout was dreadful, hardly sad, Lucien observed. “I’m terribly upset by it,” she gestured to her black skirts, the colour of mourning. Flames flared in her eyes. “May the blessed wind take his scattered ashes to only the loveliest of places.”
“Despite whatever ordeal you have been through, I’m glad to see you look well.” Lucien maintained his friendliest smile, an ember of truth in his statement. “You look very well, lady, untouched by time and lovely as ever.”
“So kind,” a knowing smile graced Lethe’s sharp features, looking more like she was scowling. “You’ve certainly changed,” her eyes were the colour of dried blood as she took him in, “much more handsome now.”
Lucien felt jealousy shoot through the bond, a rare possessiveness on Elain’s part as she elegantly cleared her throat. Nose in the air, chin held high, she cast a long look at Lethe, drawing the other female’s attention.
With a small sniff, Lethe faced Elain fully. Much to his mate’s credit, she did not back away, matching the noble’s attitude.
Lethe tilted her head, a predator. “Seems like your pretty mate agrees.”
Without missing a beat, Elain responded, voice measured and unbothered. “My mother always said I would marry for beauty.”
Lucien was glad when someone clapped a heavy hand on his back, knowing exactly who it would be before he saw. When it came to Lethe, Kai was never far. Fixtures of his childhood, the two courtiers were his eldest brother’s closest friends.
Lucien had not seen either of them since his exile, and had avoided both Lethe and Kai even if he had been in the Autumn Court on behalf of Tamlin. Eris had trusted them both, not only with his own life, but with Lucien’s as well. Lucien wondered if that was still the case, if Eris was capable of maintaining any type of friendship.
“I suppose congratulations are in order,” Kai said, voice loud. “Good to see you, Lucien.” His smile was friendly and sincere, a clever trick to hide how dangerous of a male he truly was. He had always been kind to Lucien, kinder still to Eris, but his reputation in Autumn was one of cruelty. He offered Elain a deep bow, looking up at her with eyes the colour of dead leaves.
Elain dipped into an elegant curtsy, releasing her hold on Lucien’s arm. “Pleasure to meet you,” she offered, never taking her gaze off him.
“Pleasure’s all mine, lady,” with the full force of Kai’s charming smile on his mate, Lucien had to fight the urge not to snarl.
Kai was unbelievably lovely. Dark brown hair fell in loose curls to his shoulders, eyes an even darker shade were framed by sharp brows. He was dressed well, simply but no less flattering, his tan skin near glowing with whatever power he had inherited from his Spring Court mother.
Lucien’s jealousy was ridiculous, considering he had known the male for decades and did not even think Kai was interested in females. Elain pressed closer to Lucien’s side, her hand gently circling his lower back, a lover’s caress.
Kai tracked Elain’s gesture before he turned his attention back to Lucien. “Have you seen your brothers?” He asked, brow raised, Lethe next to him.
“Which ones?” Lucien responded, although he was fairly certain Kai was looking for Eris.
Kai shrugged his broad shoulders, a frown tugging his full lips down. “Any of them, I suppose.”
“Eris came before us, the rest I couldn’t say,” Lucien felt Elain’s unease as she stood on the tips of her toes, attempting to look over everyone’s heads. She was probably searching for Cora, Lucien concluded.
“We’ve yet to see him,” Lethe offered, her nose scrunching in distaste.
Lucien opened his mouth to respond when a sudden hush fell over the large crowd. The musicians came to a natural stop, ending their song beautifully, just as the High Lord and Lady of Autumn gracefully made their way into the room.
His father was handsome in a jacket the exact shade of fresh blood, striking with the small golden crown on his head. His mother walked at Beron’s side, face serious, as they both paused on the area cleared of furniture and nobles in the middle of the room, the dance floor ready.
“Tonight,” the High Lord’s voice boomed, “we celebrate the return of my youngest son.” A glass of wine, a red so deep Lucien nearly flinched at the sight, appeared in his father’s hand. Beron’s smile was sharp as glass as he raised his hand in Lucien and Elain’s direction. “And we welcome his lady, Elain Archeron of Night.” His father took a small sip of wine, indicating he was nearly done, his speech rather short so as not to take away from the festivities. “You and your mate have my blessing, Lucien.”
Elain smiled shyly, tucking a stray curl behind her ear that was both endearing and modest. Already she had fallen into her role perfectly, playing the game of courtiers and nobles well.
The musicians played a cord, settling themselves as they prepared for the first dance of the evening. All eyes were on Lucien and Elain now, waiting, expecting them to take part.
“Might I have this dance?” Lucien said softly, allowing every ounce of his longing to drip into the question, loud enough for those around them to hear.
Lucien could imagine the whispers, travelling swift as a wildfire in the ballroom, all the nobles talking behind their hands about him and Elain.
As Elain’s eyes locked with his, Lucien saw no uncertainty in her gaze. She playfully knocked her shoulder into his, a small laugh escaping her, embracing her role as his betrothed. “Do you even have to ask?”
Lucien raised his hand, offering it to Elain. Delicately, her fingers traced his palm before she comfortably set her hand in his, a blush staining her cheeks. She smiled timidly up at him, sparks clear as daylight between them.
As Lucien and Elain walked to the dance floor, Lucien hoped no one could sense their shared unease, hidden behind their false smiles.
Notes:
thank you to everyone who is commenting and leaving kudos <3
Chapter 12: Part XII
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Elain held onto Lucien as he led her to the dance floor, their hands a perfect fit, shards of glass whose broken edges showed no crack when put together.
Lucien’s steady presence was a comfort to Elain, especially as she felt the captivated looks of countless nobles fall on them. As though he could sense her unease, he traced his thumb along the knuckles of her fingers.
Days before, Elain was certain she would have found the genuine gesture bothersome, but she was surprised as she felt a nervous weight slip off her shoulders.
Elain was grateful, had come to the realisation as the two of them had entered the hall that no matter how many negative thoughts plagued her, Lucien and her were on the same side in this. Like allies in battle, Elain had no choice but to place all her trust in the man she had spent years avoiding.
Elain had been the one to come for Lucien, after all. She had been the one to believe Eris’s words, had been the one to make the decision of travelling to Autumn, had then faced Beron and told him they were to be married. Each choice was her own, and Elain would stand by them stubbornly despite what anyone else might say.
Elain bit her bottom lip as she looked to the edge of the dance floor, hoping she would spot Cora or even Eris, any familiar face would have been welcome in the sea of nobles. When her eyes instead fell on Lethe, beautiful and dangerous, Elain had to fight her sudden urge to scowl.
Elain had not liked the way the other woman had touched Lucien’s shoulders, and while she could acknowledge her reaction was ridiculous, probably the pull of their bond, Elain decided that it might be best to keep Lethe away from her mate for the time being.
She wanted to continue her search for Cora, but Elain knew the importance of remaining focused on the task at hand. Much depended on their performance, and Elain was determined to give everyone watching a show worth their while.
Lucien stopped, Elain’s steps halting as he raised her hand in a prompt for her to turn his way. Elain looked up at Lucien, breathing in sharply as he placed his broad hand on her waist.
There were layers of fabric between them, and yet Elain felt the warmth of his skin seeping through her dress. She arched into him, hoping the onlookers spotted the subtle movement as she gave Lucien her undivided attention.
The musicians played a note, letting it ring through the large space as all the couples prepared to dance.
Elain felt herself blush, speaking to Lucien in a low voice so that no else could catch her words. Her cheeks heated under his gaze, “I hope you’re a good lead,” she clipped, offering him one of her friendliest smiles.
Both of Lucien’s brows lifted as he flashed her a grin. “The best,” he reassured her, tone serious, but she felt the playfulness behind the statement through the bridge between their souls.
Elain had to fight back a giggle. Lucien was undeniably charming, and also unfairly handsome, especially so when he smiled.
Elain usually pushed such thoughts aside, not allowing the quiet voice in her head that insisted Lucien was lovely to be heard. If she had considered the mating bond simply based on looks, Elain would already be married to him. Drawn to him like a moth to a flame, Elain let herself feel some of that desire, let it show on her face so that anyone might see it.
Elain kept her gaze on Lucien as he spoke, his golden eye whirring softly. “I trust you’ll be able to keep up?” He was so very fae, his russet eye almost seemed to glow in the dim firelight, hair wine red and looking soft as silk.
“Definitely,” she said with a confident nod.
Elain’s lips curled up in a knowing smile as she remembered how Nesta had dragged her to dancing lessons in Velaris. She had spent many evenings a handful of months before with Cassian, Azriel, and her older sister learning about all the popular dances in every court. She promised to herself as Lucien tightened his grip on her hand that she would have to thank Nesta for it when she returned to Night.
The music rose around them, the beat so fast that despite how familiar Elain was with the traditional Autumn dance, she was still taken off guard as Lucien stepped back.
Elain followed, laughing, hoping the sound of her genuine joy carried over the instruments, that the couples around her had heard. Beron had been convinced in the throne room, had believed they loved each other, but something in Elain’s gut told her the nobles in the ballroom would be just as hard to convince.
Elain moved her feet quickly, hoping that she was dancing to match Lucien’s easy rhythm. He raised his hand elegantly, and Elain readied herself for the turns.
Lucien spun Elain effortlessly, her skirts flaring around her. Elain gasped at the way the green fabric glimmered in the flames of the chandeliers, making it seem as though it was grass blowing in the wind.
As Lucien once again pulled her towards him, Elain clumsily missed a few of the steps, his firm grip on her waist the only thing stopping her from crashing into his chest. “Did you see that?” She breathed, still marvelling at the talent Autumn court seamstresses must possess.
“Breathtaking,” Lucien said, his eye dark with what could only be desire. The way the word fell from his tongue was enough to make Elain swoon, to make her believe he was not talking about the dress at all.
Elain had to remind herself that he was simply acting the part of her betrothed, that he could not long for her in such a way. They were strangers.
He is mine.
The thought crashed through her, and perhaps it was because she knew many were watching them, but she let it show on her features.
Lucien pulled her closer still as the final notes of the song played, they shared the same air, the scent of sweet apples overwhelming her senses. Elain kept her steady gaze on him as the music came to a stop, as clapping could be heard for the orchestra.
“That was fun,” Elain laughed, feeling awkward now that they were no longer dancing and Lucien still held her. She had always enjoyed dancing, especially when she had been a young girl in the human lands.
Before Lucien could respond, the next song started, and many moved around them to stand by the dance floor’s edge. Even Lucien furrowed his brow, tucking Elain to his chest as the song continued.
Elain recognized the music, knew it was a Night Court dance reserved only for lovers. She had seen Rhysand pull Feyre into his arms, humming the now familiar tune countless times so they could dance around the living room.
She felt a sudden ache deep within her at the thought of her family, missing them all and wishing they were with her.
Elain was grateful as Lucien spoke and dragged her from such thoughts. “Beron must have been very impressed by you, Lady Elain Archeron.”
She almost snorted, doubting his words. “How can you say that?” They were nearly chest to chest, hardly any space between them, but Elain was glad that they could at least talk during this dance.
Hearing her disbelief, Lucien continued. “Night Court music at an Autumn Court ball? That’s practically unheard of.”
She turned her head to look at him, catching the sharp line of his jaw. They were so close, Elain could only see his profile, and was tempted to rest her cheek against him. Instead, she said, “That’s good, it must mean that I’m endearing myself to your family.” She watched as Lucien could not hold back a wince, understanding that perhaps the topic of his family was not a good one, Elain asked him a question. “Lethe and Kai, they’re old friends of yours?”
Elain was curious, wanted to know more about them and hoped Lucien would share some of his thoughts. She heard his scoff before he replied. “More like Eris’s friends who I spent an unusual amount of time with.”
“Feyre was like that,” Elain offered, the little bit of common ground they shared between them. Younger siblings, Elain had noticed, tended to do that sort of thing, often reminding her of sprouts growing in the shade of larger trees.
She felt him shrug, muscles moving beneath the fingers of her one hand. “It was hard making friends as the son of a High Lord, at least in Autumn.” He added with a short laugh.
“Poor you,” Elain joked, hoping he would take no offence to it.
Surprise was like a flash of lightning along the bond, but Lucien’s amused expression remained the same as he responded. “I’m still so upset over it.”
The song’s final notes played as Elain asked, “Do we keep dancing?”
“I’ll be expected to, at least for the next couple of songs.” Elain felt a strange possessiveness rush over, but she pushed the feeling down, hoping Lucien did not notice. “Go to Eris, and I’ll come in a bit.”
Elain hummed in understanding and Lucien pulled away from her, already missing his warmth.
One hand gripping her emerald skirts, the other still in Lucien’s, she dipped into a small curtsy. Lucien raised Elain’s hand slightly as he bowed at the waist and although he did not kiss her knuckles, as would have been common on the other side of the wall, Elain found herself wishing that he had.
With startling clarity, Elain could imagine Lucien’s lips pressed to her skin and had to suppress a shudder. Elain forced herself to turn away from her mate, taking elegant steps but still feeling the weight of his gaze on her.
Unsettled by her own desire, Elain was surprised at how quickly she spotted Eris in the crowd of nobles. His auburn hair seemed to flicker in the flames of the fireplace he was standing by, a glass of wine in his hand.
The musicians began to play the next song, an Autumn Court dance once more, as Elain made her way to the far end of the ballroom.
She felt as someone came up from behind her, making her pause. “I was promised an introduction,” the voice of the man was low and thick with the accent of those in the Forest House. “Seems as though my little brother has gone back on his word.” For a moment Elain thought she had been mistaken, that Eris had instead come to her, especially when she turned around to face the person who had approached.
Felix or Ronan, a voice reminded her, one of the two brothers Lucien had already mentioned to her. His long red hair was in a braid that fell past his shoulders, contrasting with his well-tailored jacket, the deep brown of tree trunks. He had a scattering of freckles on his cheeks, and although his dimpled smile seemed genuine, Elain was glad Eris had given her a weapon.
“Lucien likes to keep me all to himself,” her fingers tightened around the fabric of her skirts. Remembering Lethe’s attitude, Elain raised her chin and flashed the man a sharp smile.
Elain jumped at the chuckle that came from her other side, as another one of Lucien’s brothers clapped a broad hand on the man still in front of her. “Leave her be, Felix, I can see Eris burning holes in the back of your head.” She felt like a fawn surrounded by wolves, like she was wounded prey and they were simply taunting her before striking with a killing blow.
Felix shrugged, the gesture elegant, reminding her once more of Eris. “I suppose we still have much time before the wedding to become better acquainted.”
Elain wanted to take the comb from her hair, to warn them to keep away. Instead, she hoped confidence leaked from her words as she spoke. “I look forward to it, now if you’ll excuse me, my lords.”
“No need for such formalities, sister,” Ronan added.
Elain had to fight the urge to frown, but she merely bowed her head in a show of respect and tried to make her way as quickly as possible to Eris. He looked serious, and was left entirely alone, save for Cora who stood several feet away from him. Elain nearly sighed in relief, going to the space between them.
“What did they say to you?” Eris asked, voice low and unbothered. He hardly seemed concerned, and Elain wondered if he actually cared about what his brothers wanted from her.
Elain ignored his question to ask one of her own, remembering suddenly both his and Cora’s absence when Lucien and her had first arrived. “Where were you?”
“I hardly think that should be any of your business,” he said simply while he passed her a glass of red wine.
With gentle hands, Elain took the glass, looking up at Eris with a raised brow. “Not poisoned, is it?”
Cora laughed, moving closer to Elain. “He wouldn’t dare.”
Eris shrugged, amusement flashing in his eyes. “Suppose you’ll just have to trust me.”
Elain raised the glass to her lips, surprised that she did trust Eris, at least when it came to him protecting her from physical harm.
Before she could take a sip, Elain paused, feeling someone’s heavy gaze on her. She turned her attention to that burning feeling, almost like a warning, her new fae senses catching a watchful predator.
Elain’s heart nearly stopped as she looked at the High Lord, surrounded by nobles, arm around his wife.
Beron Vanserra raised his glass in a small salute as he held her gaze, and Elain raised her own, mirroring him and hoping he could not spot the nervous shaking of her hand.
Notes:
this was originally posted on tumblr (come say hi!!!) and now i am all caught up :)) chapter updates will be slower, but thank you thank you to everyone who has left kind comments and a kudos <3
Chapter 13: Part XIII
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Lucien was glad that the night was finally over.
The celebration had been too long, his emotions too forced, for it to have been enjoyable.
The musicians had stopped playing, the courtiers had stopped dancing, and Elain was once again at his side.
Lucien could feel Elain’s exhaustion mixing with his as she held onto his arm. Her grip was firm, perhaps a bit possessive, just the smallest suggestion of ownership as they walked towards the thick oak doors leading into the near empty corridor.
Lucien had let his father know that he and Elain would be returning to their suite. He had made sure to tell the High Lord that they were both beyond grateful for such a warm reception and that they were looking forward to their fast-approaching wedding ceremony.
Lucien had been lying through his teeth, the expression on Beron’s face suggested that he knew, the frown gracing his features had looked sincere as he had waved a hand lazily in dismissal.
Other than the one interaction with his father, Lucien had managed to avoid his family for most of the night. He had not yet spoken to his mother, had not been able to catch her at a moment when she was alone, and he was careful to stay close to Eris so that Callum, Ronan, and Felix would resort to keeping their distance.
Silent and watchful, Eris had remained by the dance floor’s edge for most of the night. Even in Lucien’s earliest memories, Eris had always asked very few of the court’s ladies to join him at such events, males were quick to shift out of his way as he walked by, and hardly anyone ever approached him first.
Lucien had discovered as a child that if kept close to his eldest brother, everyone left him well enough alone. It had still come as a surprise when the same seemed to be true after all the time that had passed, that all the aristocrats still steered clear of their prince.
In any case, Lucien was glad that staying close to Eris meant that most of the court was inclined to avoid Elain as well.
No one had come to her, not when she was near the High Lord’s heir. Eris and Cora had remained by her side as Lucien had danced for a few more songs. Most of the females had been too young for him to recognise, although it had not stopped them from looking up at him through their lashes and blushing at his every word. In Autumn, it was always difficult for Lucien to tell which of them were actually charmed by him, or merely liked the idea of being near royalty.
Lethe had seen fit to join him for one of the more romantic dances, had practically bared her teeth at another young lady in warning as she saw her approaching. Lucien had not been able to stop the laugh that fell from his lips at the familiarity of Lethe’s behaviour.
Like a bird of prey, as though she had heard the sound of his joy over the instruments, Elain had turned her head to glare at the back of Lethe’s head as Lucien had pulled the other female towards him.
The weight of Elain’s slight annoyance as Lucien had twirled Lethe would be enough to get others talking about them, Lucien thought. Convincingly jealous, there was not a single doubt in his mind that the court had believed them.
As Lucien and Elain continued to walk steadily towards the doors, he could see the same emotion in the eyes of every noble they passed.
Mates and in love.
Perhaps Elain did not understand the significance of such a thing, and he could not even blame her. To the fae, though, a mate was very nearly impossible to find, a treasure so rare, when you were only ever gifted with one.
As he and Elain left the ballroom and the doors began to close behind them, Lucien had to hide his shock as he felt Elain rest her head against him. It was such a perfect final touch to their act, done just as the heavy doors slammed shut, offering those watching the smallest glimpse of affection.
Lucien nearly scowled as they passed the guards, tired of the dangerous game he and Elain were playing. He placed his hand to the small of Elain’s back, all the warning she would get, as he winnowed both himself and his mate to their shared suite.
The flames in the fireplace were dim, the torches had not yet been lit, and the only light in the space filtered in from the arched windows, moonbright.
As if Lucien’s touch burned her, Elain let go of his arm suddenly. She instead gripped her emerald skirts tightly, knuckles pale, forcing distance between them.
“That was…” She shook her head, Lucien watching as loose curls bounced around her shoulders. “That was humiliating,” she finished, embarrassment bringing a scarlet blush to her cheeks.
Briefly, Lucien wondered what it was in particular that might have made her feel such a strong and negative emotion. “You’re a good actress,” he offered, hoping that none of his own annoyance at the night’s events leaked into his tone. “I’m very impressed.”
Elain moved towards the vanity, pulling pins from her hair in a way that seemed to be painful. She tossed a few onto the wooden counter, and Lucien tracked each of her movements. “You seemed to have enjoyed yourself,” she said over her shoulder.
Lucien scoffed as he slowly undid the golden buttons along the front of his jacket. “So glad it came across that way.”
Elain hummed as she took the comb carefully from her hair. She kept the accessory in her hand and traced some of the pearls on it so as not to look at him, Lucien guessed. “Especially when you danced with Lady Lethe,” the title rolled off her tongue mockingly.
Lucien raised his brows at her, although she still did not meet his gaze. It was with great effort that he did not joke about the statement with her, still treading carefully with his words in regards to Elain. Instead he took his jacket off and left it on the foot of the bed. “I’ve known Lethe all my life, I suppose I did enjoy dancing with her.” With a shrug, he directed a question at Elain. “Does it matter?”
Elain did not turn around as she ran her hand over her face. “I shouldn’t have come here.”
Lucien was surprised at the small spark of hurt that flared to life in his chest. “You really shouldn’t have,” he agreed, despite it. “Eris was wrong to ask this of you, and Feyre–”
“I chose to come,” Elain snapped, whirling around to place the full weight of her heavy gaze on him. “But to marry you? I didn’t think...” Lucien watched as she paused to collect her thoughts, as she waved her hand in his direction, the weapon disguised as a comb flashing in the dark as she held it between her fingers. “I don’t think I can marry you.”
Lucien looked at the panic evident all over her face, at the way her chest rose and fell as she took shallow breaths. He couldn’t help the short laugh that spilled from his lips at seeing Elain so dishevelled.
“I’m being serious,” she hissed, taking a step towards him.
Lucien raised his hands in surrender. “I know, I’m sorry,” he said, still smiling despite his effort to remain expressionless. “I was under the impression we’d both accepted the fact that we’d be married in less than a fortnight.”
Elain’s lips raised slightly at the corner, her eyes a bit brighter, before she took a deep breath. Lucien felt some of her nerves ease, watched as her shoulders lowered in relief. “Lucien, what are we going to do?”
Lucien undid the laces at his throat, noticing the way Elain’s eyes flicked to his exposed skin. “We should go to sleep.” At his words, Elain turned her attention back to the pins in her hair. “We’ve had a long couple of days, we can figure out what we want to do in the morning.”
Elain nodded in agreement, seemingly content. “Alright.” She lifted her skirts, moving towards the bathroom for some privacy.
“I think you should take the bed, though.” Lucien spoke even though her back was to him. He felt her unease at the suggestion. He wondered about the feeling, but decided to ask her at another time.
“No, no, I don’t mind the armchair.” Elain faced him, lovely as ever. “We’ll talk in the morning?”
Lucien figured a conversation between them was long overdue. He simply nodded, his heart skipping a beat as Elain flashed him a small but genuine smile.
Notes:
first new update to those who might be reading from tumblr :) thank you to everyone reading <3
Chapter 14: Part XIV
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Elain was floating. Black skirts weightless, hair a halo. She could not tell if the water was cold, but there were shivers going up her spine, causing ripples around her.
Elain felt as her lips pulled down. She was looking up, the endless sky over her. There was no moon, she noticed. Slowly, even the stars began to wink out, darkness taking their place. One by one, they disappeared, and Elain could do nothing but watch, unmoving.
Unease washed over Elain like a gentle wave as she felt something by her bare feet.
Hands.
Bones.
Wrapping itself around her ankle, it tugged, swift as lightning. Elain did not even get the chance to scream as she was pulled into the depths, still unable to see the moon.
Elain woke up with a jolt, heart racing and each of her senses heightened. She had truly had enough of her strange dreams. Running a hand through her hair, Elain gave herself a moment to calm down, stretching her legs over the arm of the chair she had slept in.
Elain sat up with a tired huff. She would go to the library, she thought, grab a book on the cauldron and return before the sun was daybright. It was almost embarrassing to admit just how very little she still knew about the object that had seen fit to curse her with the powers of a seer.
As she considered going alone to search for the library in the winding halls of the Forest House, her eyes fell on Lucien. Elain knew she had agreed to speak with her mate, but with the dreams completely plaguing her thoughts, she figured she would be too distracted to focus.
Lucien was still sound asleep, and Elain was surprised she had managed to wake up earlier than him. The covers were pulled up to his waist, the laces of his shirt undone, chest rising and falling steadily. The way he was laying down, Elain could not see his scar.
For a moment Elain wondered if she should wake him, should ask him to escort her to the library he had taken her to on that first day she had been in the Autumn Court. As quickly as the thought had come to her, she pushed it aside, sighing as she got up to choose the dress she would wear.
Elain decided she would ask Cora to come with her, hoping the other woman would not mind being called on before everyone else had woken up.
Eris’s words from the night before about wearing Night Court colours went through her mind as she stood in front of the large closet, filled with dresses she had brought, but also a few that were not her own. Elain ignored his words and grabbed a dress in a dark shade of plum, small diamonds along the bottom of the skirts making it seem like stars had been plucked from the sky and sewn into the fabric.
As Elain looked in the mirror, it pained her to admit that the emerald green dress from the night before suited her better. She scowled at her reflection, turning away.
With silent steps, Elain quickly made her way across her and Lucien’s shared chambers, careful not to wake him. She cast a final glance in her mate’s direction, and was glad to see that he had not stirred. She checked to see if the door was locked, surprised but pleased when the handle turned and she could slip out, shutting the door behind her.
Elain lifted her skirts, worrying at her bottom lip as she questioned whether it was a smart idea to leave Lucien’s side. In the last few days, she had come to the decision that Lucien was in fact quite likeable, but she was glad for some distance, especially knowing that they were going to talk about all that had happened in the last few days.
When Elain was near her mate, nothing felt true .
She was certain that the mating bond was influencing her thoughts, but being away from him gave her time to think.
Elain knew she could not marry Lucien, but she was also aware of how dreadfully complicated the situation she had gotten herself in was. She continued to consider how they might find a way out of a wedding ceremony as she walked down the maze-like halls of the Forest House.
Elain was almost sure she knew where she was going, and she felt some of the tension in her shoulders leave as she spotted the stairs that led down to the floor with Cora’s room. Hand on the wooden railing, Elain skipped steps as she quickly made her way to the guest suite she and Lucien had taken Cora to after their short visit to the library.
Elain paused in front of the other woman’s door, gathering some courage before she finally knocked, three gentle taps with her knuckles against the wood.
“Cora,” she said, the word a breath falling between her teeth, knocking again. “Cora, it’s Elain.”
Elain heard the latch of the lock falling, right before Cora pulled the door open, the hinges screaming. She was surprised that the other woman was fully dressed and ready for the day, her dark hair in an intricate braid.
Cora raised a dark brow, looking past Elain and checking the hallway for anyone else. “Why are you awake?” She asked.
“Will you come to the library with me?”
With elegant steps, Cora moved to stand outside her room. “Right now?”
Elain simply nodded in response.
“Just the two of us?” Cora further clarified, slight unease leaking into her tone.
“I have to go to the library. You don’t—”
Before Elain could finish her sentence, Cora shut the door behind her, interrupting. “I’ll come,” she said, determined. “Will Lucien be joining?”
“No, no, I don’t want him knowing. Not Eris, either,” Elain added. “I hope this will stay between us.”
“Walk and talk, Elain,” Cora’s eyes were bright with amusement as she flashed a mischievous smile. “I love secrets.”
Elain hooked an arm through Cora’s, and began to explain in hushed whispers how she had begun to see visions during the war with Hybern. The other woman’s presence was a comfort as Elain told her about her recent dreams, about the heavy feeling in her chest of knowing that something was wrong.
“I know nothing about these…abilities,” Elain admitted. The words choked her, nerves settling in her gut. She cast a glance at their surroundings, and furrowed her brow. “And I don’t know where we are.” It took Elain a great effort not to release a childlike groan.
Cora pulled them both to a stop, looking around their unfamiliar surroundings. “I thought you knew where you were going.”
“Let’s just assume I know nothing about everything,” Elain blew a stray curl from where it had fallen in front of her eyes.
Cora snorted as she dragged Elain towards a pair of carved oak doors, firelight filtering through the crack of space between them.
Elain sighed in relief as she spotted towering shelves in the small space, rows of ancient books neatly organised. Although it was a library much smaller than the one Lucien had taken them to, it was no less lovely. Every piece of furniture, all the carpets, even most of the books looked worn.
Quietly shutting the doors behind them, Cora put a gentle hand to Elain’s elbow. “Where should we start?”
With a small laugh, Elain faced the other woman. “I have no idea.”
Cora pushed her gently, playfully, like a friend might. “I’ll take the shelves on the left,” she said with a smile.
Elain was so grateful for Cora’s presence, so glad that she was not alone in that moment. “Thank you,” the words were sincere.
Just as they were about to go their separate ways, Elain heard a voice, lovely as windchimes behind them.
“It’s not very often that unexpected visitors stumble into my private library.” Cora did not seem startled, but Elain jumped at the sound. Turning slowly, not knowing who she would face.
The Lady of Autumn was stunningly beautiful and Elain found herself searching for Lucien’s features on her cold but beautiful face. She was wearing a dress with intricate gold details stitched along the brown bodice, her hair a striking contrast against the dark fabric. Just as Eris’s did, her red hair seemed to flicker like a dying ember in the light of the torches. Elain found herself uncertain of what to say, lips parting slightly in surprise.
“Apologies, lady,” Cora curtsied, speaking for them both, and Elain fumbled with her skirts to do the same. “We had not realised, we will take our leave.”
“No need,” the lady offered as she waved an elegant hand, “It’s been some time since I’ve enjoyed the company of those other than my family.” Like a wolf, she tilted her head, directing her russet gaze at Elain. “Though I suppose we will be family soon enough.”
Elain plastered on her most convincing smile, “Lucien has told me so much about you, my lady.” The lie fell from her lips naturally.
At the title, the older woman scrunched her nose in distaste. “Please, call me Callista.” She lifted an auburn brow, “you are to be my daughter, after all.”
Cora remained silent as Elain took a few careful steps in Callista’s direction. “I had wished to meet you, to truly meet you, but…” she trailed off, unsure what to say next.
The Lady of Autumn nodded as though she understood. “I am happy to see you in my court, Elain Archeron of Night.” Elain could practically feel the genuine emotion in the room, a mother honestly glad that her son was to be married.
Guilt crawled up Elain’s spine, brief and unwelcome. “I was looking for a book,” she said suddenly, hoping to change the subject.
“A specific one?” Callista offered, “I’ve read all the ones here.”
Elain was struck by just how old the other woman was, how old most of the fae were. She once again remembered that while Cora looked the same age as her, there were probably decades between them.
“I’m looking…” Elain paused, not knowing what to say to get what she wanted from the library, but not wanting to reveal her intentions to the High Lord’s wife. “Do you have a book on lakes?” Callista furrowed her brow, looking confused. Elain blushed, speaking again before the lady could respond. “Or, perhaps a book on witches?”
The Lady of the Autumn Court grinned, reminding Elain very much of Lucien. “On witches? I have many.”
Notes:
thank you to everyone who takes the time to comment and leave a kudos <3
Chapter 15: PART XV
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Lucien woke up to the warm rays of the sun gently caressing the scarred side of his face. He kept his eyes closed, breathing in deeply. He knew that someone had opened the window, the fresh autumn air sharp with a hint of winter.
Lucien enjoyed early mornings, but he figured he had slept later than usual, especially as he blearily opened his eyes to take in the bright suite he shared with his mate.
Elain.
Lucien’s gaze fell to the armchair she had resolved to sleep in, at the neatly folded blanket and the carefully placed pillow. He blinked, his golden eye whirring before it clicked into place, settling on the empty chair once more.
Lucien’s first thought was that Elain had simply decided that she had had enough of him and the Autumn Court. He could not even blame her if that were the case, but his mind continued to wander. Perhaps, Elain had gone to find Cora, or Eris had come by their rooms to speak with her, he thought.
Lucien quickly came to an even worse conclusion as he considered what his other brothers might want with Elain, what his father might want, even. He jolted upright in bed, his heart racing, thinking again of Jesminda.
“Good morning, Lucien.”
Nearly snapping his neck so that he could turn towards the sound of Elain’s voice, Lucien decided he would need to remind himself to take calming breaths before he jumped to ridiculous conclusions.
He had not been expecting Elain to be awake, let alone drinking a cup of coffee on one of the comfortable and cushioned seats by the opened window. She had her hair pulled up messily with a leather strap, loose curls framing her pretty face. The dark dress she wore pillowed around the armchair and it looked to Lucien that she was sitting cross-legged, entirely relaxed despite how nervous she had been the night before.
Lucien’s eyes fell to the ancient looking book on her lap, wondering for a moment where she could have gotten it from. He cleared his throat, remembering that he needed to reply to her.
“Good morning, Elain.”
Lucien figured he must have been looking at his mate for longer than what was perhaps deemed appropriate in the human lands because a blush, red as roses, bloomed along her cheekbones. He flashed her a grin.
Elain’s shoulders straightened, but she did not look away from him as she spoke, voice a bit more high-pitched than usual. “Coffee?”
Lucien hummed his response, stretching his arms as he got out of bed. He watched as Elain kept her gaze on him, her blush darkening.
The placement of the twin armchairs by the window were clearly meant for couples to enjoy, Lucien noticed. He raised a brow, deciding that the furniture was placed by someone who had obviously considered how romantic it was to drink morning coffee while overlooking the beautiful forest.
Lucien scrunched his nose as his feet touched the stone floors, remembering his childhood, nostalgia crashing over him briefly before he took a seat in the second armchair. He rolled up his shirtsleeves as he sat, Elain turning away from him sharply. He had to fight the grin that once again threatened to bloom along his features.
Instead of speaking, Elain merely put her book aside and nudged a mug matching her own towards Lucien.
“Slept well?” He asked, taking the cup and relishing in the warmth of the beverage. Tendrils of heat floated into the air as he took a sip. He was surprised at how perfectly it had been made, with a little more milk than there was sugar, just as he had always liked it.
“Yes,” Elain answered sweetly.
“Liar,” Lucien quipped with a small laugh, pretending to cough as he took another sip of his coffee.
Elain’s full lips tilted up at the corners as she mirrored him, drinking from her mug slowly.
Beautiful.
The thought was a bell’s toll, ringing loudly in Lucien’s mind. She truly was lovely, but he shook his head, forced himself to think of something else. He wondered if he should try and get Eris to take her to the courtyard, to show her Autumn’s flowers.
“Lucien,” she said, voice serious. He felt as his heart skipped a beat, the bond’s influence, at the sound of his name rolling off her tongue.
“Elain,” he replied, glad that his own voice was steady, almost playful.
Elain rolled her shoulders, knuckles white against the mug still in her hands. “I can’t marry you,” she managed to say through her teeth, every inch of her seeming tense with nerves.
Lucien raised his brows, about to tell her something he hoped would put her mind at ease, but he was not given the chance.
Elain spoke quickly, her words falling like rain in a storm. “I don’t regret coming for you, I would do it again.” Embarrassment turned the tips of her pointed ears pink, but Lucien just let her continue. “Your father scares me, but Autumn is lovely, really lovely, and I would come again if given the choice, I think, but not like this.” She put her mug down, some of the coffee spilling onto the dark wood of the table. “And there’s nothing wrong with you,” Elain added, sounding annoyed.
“Terribly kind of you to say so,” Lucien interrupted, face serious, but she went on as though she had not even heard.
“But marriage is going a bit too far, I just…I can’t.” She turned pleading brown eyes on him, “I can’t, Lucien.”
It had been years since the war with Hybern, since Elain’s broken engagement with Greyson Nolan. While Lucien was certain that Elain had always deserved better than spending her life married to the human lord, he wondered if the pain of it all had not yet entirely abated.
“Elain, if you really think I’ve spent the last few days actually believing we were going to be married on the night of the full moon, we have much greater problems.” Lucien watched her blink, once, then twice, as she took in his words. He could hear birds softly chirping, the cool wind carrying the sound through the open window.
“But the bond…” she trailed off, shaking her head, chestnut curls bouncing around her shoulders. “What about the bond?”
Lucien sighed, “Cauldron, Elain, the unaccepted bond is not affecting my ability to be reasonable.” He wondered, as he often did, what kind of assumptions Elain must have about the fae and their mating bonds.
She looked at him through her long lashes. “It’s not?” She asked softly, disbelieving.
“It’s not.” Lucien reassured, nodding confidently.
Elain huffed, clenching her eyes shut and rubbing her temples for a moment. “Sometimes I think the bond makes me unreasonable,” she admitted.
“And it never occurred to you, Elain, that perhaps you’re just not very reasonable,” he said with a shrug. He arched his neck back, draining the rest of his coffee. When he looked again to Elain, he could not help but laugh at the poisonous glare she cast in his direction.
After a moment, Elain laughed too, lovely as windchimes. Both their masks were finally aside, walls down, if only briefly.
“I’m not,” she mumbled through her giggles.
Lucien was still smiling as he put his mug down on the low table, lounging more comfortably in his armchair. “There’s no fucking chance in hell that we marry, Elain,” he said with a lazy wave of his hand. “The Inner Circle will come for us, and if they don’t, I’m not sure anything will stop Nesta from dragging you back to Velaris.”
Elain already looked more comfortable, merely nodding as she considered his words.
Lucien raised a brow at her. “Only thing is, we’ll be forced to spend time together, play our parts so no one will question the undying love we share.”
Elain snorted as he finished speaking, decidedly much more confident now that she was sure they would not be getting married. She bit her lip, turning away from him. “So far, your company has been…acceptable.”
Lucien smiled, “I mean, in comparison to the rest of my family, I’m a joy.”
“Modest, too,” Elain added, hardly missing a beat.
Lucien felt as he did playing chess with an admirable opponent. Elain was always ready to match his every move.
As Elain flashed Lucien a genuine smile, her eyes bright with amusement, he wondered for the first time since having met her if the cauldron was perhaps not entirely wrong in having made them mates.
Notes:
thank you to everyone who takes the time to comment and leave a kudos <3
Chapter 16: Part XVI
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Witches and Their Source of Power…
Elain read the chapter title with a sigh, closing the ancient book and setting it on the low table, deciding she would revisit the text again in the morning. At some point, the words had started to lose much of their meaning, each paragraph making less sense than the one that had come before.
Elain clenched her eyes shut as shadows danced along the sides of her vision, citing her lack of sleep for the tricks her mind had been playing for the last few pages. She had no one to blame but herself for the sleeping arrangements anyway, stubborn as she had been to give Lucien the bed and commit to her choice.
As Elain adjusted her position in the armchair, tugging the blanket around her shoulders so that she could rest her head against her pillow, she was glad Lucien had stepped out of their shared chambers for a moment. Elain had spent the entire day with him, and she loathed to admit how awfully nice it had been.
Lucien had shown her around the Forest House, the memory of his hand on the small of her back as courtiers had walked by replaying in her head every time she had a moment to herself. She could barely stand to look at Lucien without feeling the sudden urge to simply touch him,
Elain shook her head at the thought, attempting to push Lucien from her mind. Instead, she considered the Lady of Autumn’s book. Being a witch in Prythian seemed to have many meanings, some more negative than others. In Autumn, their reputation was generally good, Elain was surprised to find, but she was growing frustrated as the pages went on and she could relate to nothing within them.
Elain wondered if she should ask Eris about getting her a book on seers, but thought better of it immediately. Eris would ask too many questions, and Elain had yet to see the Autumn heir since the celebration Beron had thrown to lift Lucien’s exile.
She would see Eris at dinner the next day, Elain remembered. Lucien had told her about their invitation to join the High Lord for a meal, quickly declaring he had to speak with his brother before leaving Elain alone in their rooms. Lucien had not expressly told her which of his brothers he had meant to find, but Elain figured the most likely option was Eris. She furrowed her brows, tilting her head to watch as the shadows along the carpeted floor flickered strangely in the light of the dying fire.
Elain was nervous about having to spend more time with Beron Vanserra and his sons. She did not know what to expect, and she assumed that Lucien was just as worried about how the night’s events would unfold. She hoped to fall asleep quickly, and that no dreams would wake her, so that she could be well-rested. Elain knew she would have to play her part perfectly, that the smallest misstep could have disastrous consequences.
Just as Elain’s eyes began to droop shut, she felt a shiver travel along her spine. Instinct had her jolting upright, the room seemed dark, her hands clenched into tight fists as she searched for whatever threat her body was warning her about.
Elain blinked as shadows seemed to slither on the floors, as they darted down the walls and collected in a spot next to the open window. In her panic, Elain grabbed the object nearest to her, the golden candelabra on the coffee table heavy in her small hands.
I will not scream.
Elain silently vowed, determined to handle whatever might be coming her way without assistance. She stayed tucked against her armchair, raising her makeshift weapon as the shadows slowly took shape.
The darkness took the distinct form of a man, and Elain yelped embarrassingly in recognition as his facial features became clearer.
Elain had never seen a phantom, although she had read about the creatures. If she had not known better, she would have assumed that Azriel was one such monster. She could see right through him, the carved pattern of the window sill filtering through his shadows, like he was in the room, but somewhere else at the same time. There with her, but not entirely.
“Oh gods,” she mumbled, kicking at her blanket, eyes widening in disbelief. She put the candelabra down with a resounding thunk, her words a hiss so that no one else could possibly hear. “Az, what are you doing here?”
Had she been in Velaris, Elain would have rushed to pull a robe over her sleeping clothes, but the ones in Autumn were modest. The material was thick, meant to keep her warm as the sun fell and the temperature dropped. She still felt an embarrassed blush creep its way onto her cheeks.
“Were you…” Azriel’s voice was barely above a whisper, it rattled like dead leaves in the wind, odd and unnerving. “Were you going to hit me with the candlestick?”
Elain was close enough to Azriel that she could have touched him if she wished. “You can’t be here,” she stated, anxiety leaking into her tone. “Why are you here?” Elain knew the answer to her question, but she listened closely as the shadowsinger responded.
“Rhysand and Feyre could hardly come themselves,” his lips tilted up at the corners as he continued, “and Nesta was moments away from storming Autumn to check on you.”
“Well, I’m fine,” Elain snapped, pinching the bridge of her nose, quickly swallowing any of her frustration. “Tell everyone I’m fine.”
Azriel frowned, his shadows whirling at his shoulders, nearly blocking him from sight. “We got your letter—”
“But you didn’t believe me?” Elain interrupted, fighting the urge to cross her arms. She had written days before and given her note to Cora who she hoped might be able to pass it to Eris. Elain was careful not to alert anyone of what she was planning in case they thought she might run off, especially since Beron believed that she was staying in Autumn with the Night Court’s knowledge.
Azriel shook his head sharply. “Of course we did,” he reassured. “We just don’t like—”
“What’s done is done,” Elain interrupted once more, her voice easily cutting off his throaty rasp. She had said the same words to Lucien when he had questioned her decision to come for him, although it felt like a lifetime ago. “Me and Lucien are handling it, so unless you’ve come with advice, I don’t want to hear about whether or not you like any of my choices.”
For a moment, it was as if the world had stopped spinning. The silence was heavy, the tension between her and Azriel thick. She had had a complicated history with the Illyrian, but enough years had passed, and his friendship was important to her. Elain hoped at the very least he would understand where she was coming from.
With a sigh, Azriel said, “Right, of course.” He looked at her with furrowed brows, an unspoken apology in his eyes. “You’ve been alright?”
Elain’s shoulders dropped in relief and she realised how tense she had been. “Lucien has been a perfect gentleman, so tell everyone not to worry.”
“I think we’re all more worried about his family than we are him, Elain.”
She waved a hand in Azriel’s direction as if to say she did not care. “Nothing I can’t handle,” she said with a shrug. She hoped desperately that Azriel could not read just how scared the High Lord of Autumn made her.
Azriel raised a dark brow, his expression knowing. “And the wedding plans?”
Elain groaned in response, toying with the laces of her sleeping gown. “If anything, Rhysand can always winnow me away right before we say our vows.”
“Not funny,” Azriel said with a smile. His shadows frantically rushed to envelop him, and Elain wondered if they could sense someone approaching. “I should go,” he said, confirming her thoughts.
“You shouldn’t have come at all,” Elain clipped, taking a few steps back as more shadows whirled past her bare feet.
Azriel ignored her comment. “Good luck, Elain. We’ll see what we can do on our end.” His form became more faint as he spoke.
“Stay out of Autumn,” Elain warned one last time, eyes never leaving the shadowsinger.
Azriel gave her a little bow of his head and she waved in response, a dark cloud covering him entirely. “And Elain?” She hummed, ears straining to hear him. “If you want to keep up the act, the bed should really smell like both of you.”
Azriel disappeared suddenly, no trace of his visit left behind, and Elain could do nothing but stare at the empty space where he had just been. Almost as if she were in a trance, Elain faced the bed with wide eyes.
Lucien always made the bed perfectly, covers tucked into place neatly, pillows organised. She walked slowly to the one side, her fingers trailing along the thick fur blanket. Elain could hear her own heartbeat, blood rushing to her ears as she gripped the edge of the covers. Her knuckles were white around the fabric and Elain had to remind herself to stay calm. She pulled the sheets loose, flipping them over to reveal the comfortable mattress beneath.
Elain closed her eyes, knowing that she would lose her nerve otherwise. It was better that Lucien was not there to watch, she thought, blowing a stray curl away from her face.
“Fuck,” she mumbled as she laid down, “fuck me.” If Nesta and Feyre could hear her now, Elain thought, they would surely think she had gone completely mad. Her behaviour was improper, and entirely out of character, but she could not be bothered to care.
In the bed, Lucien’s scent was overwhelming, just as she had feared. Instead of cringing away, like she had expected, Elain simply tucked her face deeper into the pillows, unable to stop herself from breathing in.
He is mine.
Elain was so tired, she did not even take the time to examine the possessive thought. For the first time since she had arrived in Autumn, Elain was comfortable. Her body was instantly grateful, relaxing quickly, eyes falling shut easily.
Elain could feel sleep claiming her, slowly but surely. She barely stirred as the door to the suite opened and she became aware of Lucien’s presence. When he paused at the foot of the bed, Elain tried to pretend she was asleep, but when he whispered her name, he captured her attention fully.
“Get into bed, Lucien,” she simply mumbled, hoping he would not ask any questions.
“With you?” He whispered back, sounding unsure of himself.
“D’you see another bed in here?” she responded. Lucien said nothing in return, but Elain heard his footsteps as he made his way to the bathroom, and she heard them once more as he approached the opposite side of the bed.
When the mattress dipped with his weight, Elain felt a strange sense of triumph at how little effort it took for Lucien to simply listen and accept the decisions she made.
Lucien stayed on the edge of the bed, frozen in place for longer than Elain figured was normal. When the time stretched on, she lazily opened an eye to look at him. His broad back was to her, the shirt he wore pulling across his shoulders.
“We can share,” Elain said softly. “There’s more than enough room on the bed, and it doesn’t have to mean anything.”
Lucien did not look towards her, but Elain could hear the smile gracing his features as he spoke. “Guess I won’t have to worry about my virtue?”
Elain snorted, unladylike but uncaring. “Our scents haven’t mixed,” she added, hoping that would be explanation enough for her sudden change of heart when it came to her sleeping on the armchair.
Lucien’s back straightened, like he had just realised their mistake. “And the dinner tomorrow…”
“Exactly,” Elain wondered how they had both missed such a small but vital detail. She was even surprised that Cora, or even Eris, had yet to mention it. Perhaps the scent of the mating bond had been enough to redirect everyone’s attention, Elain considered.
“I like the way you think, Elain.” His tone suggested he was so impressed with her that she decided not to mention Azriel’s influence.
“Did you speak with Eris?” She mumbled, still wanting confirmation that she had been correct is her assumption. She shut her eyes as she felt Lucien shift.
Getting under the covers and adjusting the pillows, Lucien’s warmth was like that of a fire as he lay down next to her. Even with her eyes closed, Elain knew that he was near, the distance between them small. She felt a warm blush travel from her neck to the tips of her pointed ears, knowing that sharing a bed with a man she barely knew was improper. “Eris was with Callum.” Elain hummed softly and he continued. “They both had some good advice,” he admitted, and she could tell he had not been expecting it.
Elain yawned, exhaustion taking over. “Tell me in the morning,” she murmured, opening her eyes to find Lucien entirely too close. She wanted to rake her fingers through the dark red strands of his hair, to tuck her face into the crook of his neck.
My mate.
“And move, just a little,” Elain added, her words a breath. Unthinking, the pull of the bond clearly affecting her ability to be reasonable, she pressed her palm to his chest. She felt him tense beneath her touch, he was solid muscle under the thin fabric of his sleeping shirt, leaving very little to the imagination. Elain was glad for the darkness, knowing in the light he would have been able to see her blush.
Elain could have moved her hand quickly, but she chose not to. She felt his heartbeat just beneath the pads of her fingers, letting her hand linger for a moment. “Good night, Lucien.”
Elain did not hear his response, instead her mind was fixed on the steady beat of his heart, the sound a comfort as she eased into a dreamless sleep.
Notes:
i was WAITING to finally get to the point where elain and lucien share a bed :) for a second i was going to give up on this fic LOL so thank you to everyone who has taken the time to leave a lovely comment <3
Chapter 17: Part XVII
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Elain gasped, the air pulled from her lungs, sudden and unexpected. She clutched desperately onto the bed sheets, knuckles white against the fabric, her other hand pulling Lucien towards her.
Elain arched her back, tilted her hips up, hardly recognising herself, but she was unashamed of her actions. Like puzzle pieces falling into place, Elain felt a certain surety as she pressed against her mate. She could have blushed at the breathless moan that fell from her lips, but Lucien’s approval trickled down the bond and she dug her nails into the skin of his back.
Unfair, it was unfair that she was still wearing her night clothes, Elain thought as Lucien’s strong fingers pressed against her thigh. Her mate seemed to agree as he moved his hand to pull at the gown, tracing kisses along her jaw, effortlessly undoing the laces at her throat.
Lucien stopped kissing her only to bite the bare skin of her shoulder, his sharp teeth sending shivers up Elain’s spine. He moved lower and Elain took the opportunity to twine her fingers in his hair, soft as silk, just as she had thought.
Lucien pressed his lips to Elain’s collarbone, resting his hand on her waist, and Elain burned with desire.
“Please,” she begged, not knowing for what, hoping at the very least he would not stop. She hooked a foot around his leg, shifting against him, her body searching for any form of relief.
Lucien hummed in response, only looking up to meet Elain’s eyes when she roughly pulled at the hair on the nape of his neck.
You are mine.
The same thought seemed to be reflected in his gaze.
“Lucien, please,” Elain said once more, pulling him closer still, impossibly so.
“Since you asked so nicely,” Lucien murmured, russet eye flashing gold, sunbright, just as she shut hers. He was going to kiss her, she knew it in her bones, wished he would stop taking his time and simply do as she needed.
Elain whispered his name, and they shared the same breath as Lucien hovered just above her, a phantom touch.
Elain woke up with a jolt, shaking the entire bed with her sudden movement.
Lucien was exactly where she had asked him to be before sleep had swiftly taken her. He was alarmingly close to the edge of the mattress, facing her, full lips parted slightly and hair messily falling over his forehead.
Elain felt herself blushing at the realisation that she had been the one to move towards Lucien in the middle of the night. She had somehow managed to wrap a leg around his, her face resting against the arm he had comfortably stretched along the pillows, her hand holding the fabric of his shirt like a lifeline.
Elain was horrified, and yet she did not move. She stayed in place, telling herself that if she moved too quickly, Lucien would wake up and find her in what she would have considered a compromising position.
Elain took a deep breath, finding comfort in Lucien’s scent and working up the nerve to move away from him. She silently prayed to the Mother, hoping he would stay asleep and she would not have to face him with the memory of his kisses still so fresh in her mind.
Elain was grateful when Lucien did not stir, he even looked peaceful for the first time since their arrival to Autumn, as though it had been a while since he had had a good night’s sleep. Elain tried her best not to make a sound as she clumsily rolled off the bed and untangled herself from the sheets, wanting him to rest. Her entire body felt like a roaring flame, and she bit her lip to shake the dream from her thoughts.
Elain kept her eyes on Lucien, watched the rise and fall of his back with every breath, as she slowly inched further away from him. She was very aware of their bond, in that moment, at the beat of his heart matching her own.
Elain needed fresh air, she decided. She needed some space and some distance and time to calm down, which was how she found herself in the main courtyard of the Forest House, Cora at her side.
“That’s why you’re so flustered?” Cora laughed, tossing her dark braid over her shoulder as they walked along a stone path, leaves dancing with each step they took. “Lucien kissed you in a dream and now you can’t think straight?”
“Clearly, it’s the bed-sharing,” Elain added. She would never admit out loud that she had had similar dreams before, although they had never felt quite as real. She tried to focus on the unfamiliar flowers and bushes within the courtyard, but was failing miserably. “Tell me something interesting, quick,” Elain said, fanning herself with a hand as she remembered the way Lucien had kissed her throat.
“I saw Ronan and Eris arguing yesterday,” Cora seemed pleased to be sharing the information, and Elain raised a brow as she continued. “Made for quite a spectacle, right in front of the throne room, too.”
“They were yelling?”
Cora shook her head. “No yelling, voices were a bit raised and then I saw Ronan shove Eris.”
“They don’t get along,” Elain reminded her, considering Lucien’s words from a few days before. “Did you hear what they were saying?”
“Had to do with some soldiers near Spring’s border,” Cora shrugged, “Eris looked absolutely murderous.”
“I think that’s just the way he always looks.” Cora snorted in agreement and they continued to stroll down the stone path, a companionable silence falling over them.
Elain recognised only some of the flowers planted in the yard, and she wondered if Lucien could tell her about the ones she had never seen before. At the thought, she was once again reminded of her dream, so she turned her attention to Cora.
“You’re from the Hewn City?” Elain asked, wanting to learn more about her closest ally in Autumn and her newest friend.
Cora nodded, “Been there the last few centuries, it’s…it can be a nice place to live if everyone leaves you alone.”
Elain was less surprised by the fact that Cora rather seemed to like the dark and dreary city than she was by the other woman’s age. “ Centuries? ” She felt her jaw drop as her mind tried to wrap around the new knowledge. “Gods, how old are you?”
Cora seemed to sense some of her shock and patted her with a few friendly taps on the back. “Most of us stop keeping count after the first couple hundred years.” Elain heard herself make a high pitched hum in response, and Cora chuckled. “I’m a bit younger than the High Lord of the Night Court, don’t ask me to give you an exact number, I wouldn’t be able to.”
“Right,” Elain responded, as if that was not going to be her next question. “And have you ever left the Hewn City?” Elain asked instead, very curious to hear her answer. She had simply assumed Cora and her were close in age, that the other woman had never really travelled between the courts.
Cora’s footsteps slowed and Elain matched her pace. There was a long pause in their conversation before Cora spoke again. “I was born in Illyria.” The tone of her voice suggested she was finished talking about herself, offering honesty but setting a clear boundary.
Elain ignored the whisper in her mind urging her to ask more, smiling at the other woman and accepting the information she had been given. “I’m glad, then, that it’s not just my first time in the Autumn Court.”
Cora’s shoulders sagged in relief, the tension around her mouth no longer there as she flashed a crooked grin in return. “Much lovelier than I was made to believe.”
“I am pleased my court has surpassed expectations.”
The voice came from around a bend in the path and Elain recognised it instantly. The unexpected words had both her and Cora freezing in their place, chills going up Elain’s spine in warning before she saw the High Lord.
Beron Vanserra was dressed casually, at least in comparison to the last few times she had seen him. His brown pants were tucked into high leather boots, matching perfectly with his cream coloured shirt and brocade vest. There was no crown on his head, although he wore golden rings on his fingers and countless diamonds flashed along his ears in the morning light. The High Lord held a rose in his hand, its petals the colour of fresh blood.
Elain curtsied as he walked closer, Cora doing the same.
“Elain Archeron,” he said, his accent curled around each of the consonants in her name, similar to the way Lucien pronounced it. She had to stop herself from frowning in distaste at the wrongness of it. “I hope you have found yourself wanting for nothing within the walls of my home.”
Beron ignored Cora entirely, and while Elain was annoyed with the way he did not spare the other woman a glance, she was glad that his attention was not on her friend. Elain smiled pleasantly. “Everything has been perfect, High Lord, thank you.”
He tilted his chin in an elegant nod. “Very good to hear.” He paused to bring the rose up to his handsome face, breathing in before he frowned. “Last night, I thought perhaps something got through the wards.” He raised a dark eyebrow and Elain’s features twisted into a look of confusion she hoped was sincere. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you, Lady Archeron?” There was a threat lining his carefully worded question, an accusation clear in his tone.
Elain would have replied, although she could not have guaranteed a steady and confident response, had Lucien not winnowed into the courtyard and saved her from having to speak. She felt him as he appeared right behind her, and so she took a step back, pressed herself against him.
“Good morning, father,” Lucien bowed his head, unaware of what had been implied before his arrival. She would be eternally glad that she had written him a note before she had left their shared chambers, claiming to be searching for the gardens.
“Indeed.” Beron looked amused as he turned his attention to his son, embers flashing in his brown eyes. “Slept well, child?”
“I did,” Lucien answered, putting a protective hand on Elain’s shoulder. “Still come to the courtyard every morning?”
“Someone has to prune the roses,” the High Lord said with a shrug. He walked towards them, and Elain felt Lucien tense.
When Beron reached out, Elain surprised herself by remaining in the same spot, her back straight, chin up. He was handing her the rose, Elain realised, swallowing as she mirrored the High Lord. She said nothing as she took the flower, keeping her gaze on the dead plant. “I’ll see you both at dinner,” he added before he winnowed from the courtyard, sparks falling to the stones in the space he had just been standing.
Elain could not help but rest against Lucien’s much larger frame, and he let her, squeezing her shoulder reassuringly before he moved his hand to his side.
“I forgot,” Lucien explained, “I would have warned you to stay away from here, Beron likes coming to the gardens, but I forgot.”
Elain shook her head, turning to look up at her mate, to tell him not to worry in an effort to settle the rapid beating of his heart, but Cora spoke first.
“He scares me,” she said softly.
Lucien’s mouth turned down at the corners as he nodded in agreement.
The High Lord of Autumn scared Elain as well, and she found herself struggling to think of a way out of the marriage she had promised his son. Beron would never allow her to go back on her word, she concluded.
Elain was pulled from her thoughts at the sharp pain in her hand, and she realised she had been clutching the rose tightly between her fingers. Elain winced as she noticed that the thorns had split the skin of her palm, a drop of blood cutting a path to her wrist, the colour a perfect match to the rose’s petals.
Notes:
can everyone tell i am tiring of the slowburn??? i just want them to kiss i'm afraid. thank you so much to everyone for all of the kind words on the last update, i hope you like this one <3
Chapter 18: Part XVIII
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Lucien adjusted the cuff of his sleeve, wanting to look his absolute best during the dinner his father had decided to personally invite him to.
The corridor was empty and quiet, Eris was his only company as they both waited for Elain to finish getting ready for the evening. Lucien could sense she was equally as nervous to be spending more time with his family.
He bit the inside of his cheek as he straightened his jacket.
“Stop worrying,” Eris snapped, voice cold and uncaring, as if he could not be bothered to reassure his youngest brother. Lucien thought It sounded more like an order than an attempt to settle him.
He sighed as he faced the High Lord’s heir. “Are we late?”
Eris rolled his eyes, the torches along the walls flashing momentarily. “Take a breath and stop fidgeting, this dinner is a peace offering.”
While his brother had not actually answered his question, Lucien was almost sure Eris would have made an effort to rush them if they were at risk of upsetting their father. He had once believed wholeheartedly that Eris would not let any harm come to him. After Jesminda’s death, he had come to the conclusion that Eris only had his own best interests in mind.
Lucien looked at Eris as they continued to wait for Elain, questioning if his eldest brother fell somewhere in the middle of his assumptions. Eris had gone out of his way to ensure Lucien had been released from the dungeons, and had proven himself an ally to Elain.
Lucien’s golden eye clicked into place and Eris turned to face him.
Eris frowned as their eyes met, almost as though he knew exactly what Lucien was thinking about. The torches flared once more as he opened his mouth to speak, but the doors to the chambers opened suddenly and they both turned to face Elain and Cora.
All of Lucien’s thoughts about what Eris might have said had they not been interrupted quickly left his mind as Elain walked elegantly into the corridor.
Lucien straightened as she approached, her dress was lovely, the material fading from black to orange, her skirts looking like the forest floor as they dragged along the stone ground. Like most dresses in Autumn, it was modest, and very little of her skin showed. Elain had pinned her hair up with the comb of pearls Eris had gifted her, and Lucien’s eyes fell to the pale column of her throat.
Elain Archeron was stunning, the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, and Lucien suddenly became very aware of the scars that marred his face.
Elain looked at him and blushed, she paused, skirts in her hands as she spoke. “Sorry to make you both wait, it took Cora ages to figure out the ties,” she laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls of the corridor, echoing loudly in Lucien’s mind.
“Did it?” Eris raised a brow at Cora as she shut the doors to the suite and walked to Elain’s side.
Wrinkling her nose in distaste, she said, “I hate Autumn Court gowns.”
“Some lady’s maid you are,” Eris replied with a scoff, clearly intending to annoy her.
“Do all the clothes really need so many laces and buttons?” Cora clipped, gesturing to the back of Elain’s dress. “Hardly my fault the females here have to suffer in such a fashion.”
Eris waved a hand lazily and Lucien watched with great interest as his brother’s lips tilted up at the corners, flames in his eyes. “You should have stayed in Night, where the nobles have much simpler tastes.”
Cora looked prepared to bite back a response, but Lucien pitied the poor female for having to put up with Eris’s moods and spoke before the situation could escalate.
“You look beautiful, Elain.”
His mate blushed an even darker shade of red. “Thank you,” she said softly, trailing her eyes from his booted feet to the high neckline of his jacket. “You look nice, too.”
Lucien bowed his head, keeping their gazes locked. It felt as if just the two of them were in the dark space, that no one else existed beyond them.
Lovely.
Elain was breathtakingly beautiful, and Lucien questioned the cauldron’s decision to make them mates.
Eris cleared his throat, shattering the silence between them along with the illusion that only Lucien and Elain were present.
“You also look very handsome, Eris.” Elain added as she reached for Lucien’s arm. He offered it to her without hesitation, and she grabbed onto him with no consideration. If it were not for the amusement ringing in her tone, Lucien might have been irrationally jealous at the statement.
Cora hummed in agreement, and Lucien could have sworn a flicker of shock flashed across his brother’s features as he glanced at the Night Court female. “Are family dinners always so… formal?” She asked none of them in particular.
Eris merely shrugged in response, “It’s not every night you welcome back an exiled son.”
Lucien nodded, keeping his expression serious. “I’m so flattered.”
Elain giggled at his side and Lucien caught himself genuinely smiling.
“Wish your lady’s maid a goodnight,” Eris interrupted, “we should be going.”
“I’ll find you in the morning,” Elain promised, waving at her friend as Eris began to walk away.
“Enjoy yourselves,” Cora called after them and Lucien almost snorted, knowing the evening would probably be torturous.
Elain was comfortable as she loosely held onto his arm, her heartbeat steady, nothing negative making its way down the bond. Eris slowed his steps, letting them catch up, and he walked next to Elain.
As soon as they walked up a flight of stairs, ensuring there was enough distance between them and Cora, Elain used the hand that was not holding onto Lucien to swat his older brother.
“You could use her name,” she scolded, "it's not as if you don’t know it.”
Lucien’s mouth fell open in silent shock. He wondered when his eldest brother might have last been chastised, who might have been brave enough to dare.
“Whose?” Eris said, disdain dripping from the one word, although it was obvious he knew who Elain was referring to.
Elain hit him again, this time with more force. “You could be nice,” she suggested, disappointment lining her lovely features.
“Being nice might actually kill him,” Lucien mumbled, but they both seemed content to ignore his presence.
“Stop hitting me,” Eris said, sounding unbothered.
As Elain raised her gloved hand one more time, Eris did not miss a single step as he winnowed to Lucien’s side, maintaining their pace effortlessly.
Elain attempted to get through to him one last time, leaning past Lucien so she could frown at him. “It’s rude, Eris,” she observed. “You ought to know as much.”
Lucien could have told her that arguing with Eris was akin to arguing with a stone wall, but he watched as they interacted, surprised at how comfortable they seemed to be with each other.
“Remember yourself at dinner,” Eris warned, “I’m not too sure that the rest of my brothers will appreciate your more violent side.”
While Lucien could tell Eris was not being serious, he felt as Elain tensed, clearly worried by the words.
Lucien shot Eris a glare, but his brother had already begun to speak, paying attention only to his mate.
“You’ve managed to charm even my father, Elain Archeron,” Eris added, having noticed her change in demeanour, and Lucien was grateful as she straightened her shoulders back. She already looked more confident as Eris gave her a final piece of advice. “So keep at it.”
Eris’s praise was enough for Elain to maintain an attitude that made her seem entirely at ease among the most important family in the Autumn Court. While the High Lord sat at the head of the rectangular table, no one else faced him from across the other side.
Lucien’s mother was at his father’s left side, and Eris was on his right. Elain had quickly found her place sitting between Lucien and the Lady of Autumn, who she spoke with softly, answering all of his mother’s pleasantly worded questions while everyone else ate their perfectly cooked meal.
Lucien was surprised with how well-behaved his brothers were, considering how he had witnessed more than enough brawls during their family dinners before he had been exiled. Beron watched with observant eyes, paying attention to the conversation between Elain and his wife.
Eris had said very little, just like Lucien remembered, choosing to eat slowly and avoid meaningless small talk. Callum was expectedly next to their eldest brother, looking at the very least like he was carefully listening to Elain as she spoke. Ronan had drunk so much wine Lucien was wondering if he would be able to walk out of the dining room on his own, which seemed a bit unusual. Felix had his elbows on the table, head resting on his fist, decidedly choosing to be disrespectful. Lucien was surprised that their father had yet to say anything, knowing how much the High Lord valued appearances.
“I was thinking of sending invitations out in the next couple of days,” Lucien heard his mother say, a repressed excitement in her voice. She placed her napkin next to her full plate. “Of course, Night will be receiving theirs first.”
“Thank you,” Elain added, “We’d been planning a smaller affair, very few knew about it outside our little circle of friends.” She glanced to Lucien shyly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear endearingly before turning her attention back to the Lady of Autumn.
“We could send Spring an invitation,” Beron added, voice quiet but authoritative. He looked at Lucien with a raised brow, “We wouldn't want to offend Tamlin.”
“How considerate,” Lucien said, feeling his teeth grit in annoyance.
“And we must invite the human queen and her general,” his father continued.
“I don’t expect them to travel into our court.” Lucien responded, wanting his friends to stay far away from the Forest House.
“Why not?” Felix asked. “We have such a lovely court,” he flashed Lucien a grin daring him to argue.
Lucien set his cutlery down with a loud sound as it hit against the side of his plate.
“I don’t care much for Queen Vassa,” Elain interrupted before Lucien could say anything. There was honesty in her words, he could tell, perhaps even a hint of jealousy, but he knew she was only saying it for his benefit,
Elain had come to his defence in the hopes that Beron would leave his friends alone, and the respect he had for his mate only soared at the thought.
Ronan chuckled, raising his glass in a salute towards Elain, which she returned elegantly despite her clear discomfort at being addressed directly. “I like your mate’s honesty, little brother,” he confessed before drinking deeply.
Beron hummed in response, placing his hand, palm up, onto the table. Lucien watched as his mother laced their fingers together, the gesture coming to them naturally. His much larger hand engulfed her smaller one, and Lucien had to fight the urge to wince.
Everyone went back to eating in silence, and Lucien recalled the countless family dinners he had silently sat through. With Beron present, his brothers were achingly careful with their words and their actions, not wanting to upset him. It was like trying to walk in the woods without snapping a branch, nearly impossible without practice, but each of them had learned to read their father’s moods.
As though Elain could sense the troublesome direction of Lucien’s thoughts, she placed a comforting hand on his knee. Covered by the table, no one else noticed the startlingly soft gesture.
Lucien realised quickly that Elain’s action had not been for show, that it had not been a part of their roles, it was simply a moment shared between the two of them.
Notes:
i hope we get vanserra family drama in any future acotar books! more elain and lucien being soft in the next update :) thank you to everyone for the lovely comments <3
Chapter 19: Part XIX
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Elain slowly pulled her nightgown up past her thighs so that the fabric pooled by her hips. Lucien’s hands followed, leaving a trail of heat where their skin met. She held his searing gaze, embers in his russet eye.
“Ask me to kiss you,” Elain said, sounding breathless, all the control belonged to her alone. She shifted her body and Lucien did the same to match the movement.
The words seemed to catch in his throat as he looked up at her and Elain leaned towards him in response. He wanted her, she thought, and she wanted him just as much.
With surprisingly steady hands, Elain untied the laces of Lucien’s shirt.
“Will you kiss me?” He said, a plea.
Elain kept her hand on his chest, feeling his heart pounding. She hummed softly, eyelids fluttering shut, pressing her face to his neck, kissing him, wanting to leave a mark.
He is mine, she thought, and everyone should know she had claimed him.
Lucien lifted her nightgown higher, his hands resting on her bare waist. His thumb traced the skin beneath her breasts lazily. Elain heard a quiet moan fall from her lips and Lucien groaned at the sound.
Raking her fingers through his hair, tugging sharply, Elain kissed his jaw. Lucien turned his head and her lips met the corner of his mouth. She pulled away, the distance between them almost painful as the bond ached with the need to touch him, to hold him closer.
Elain flashed her mate a small smile, but he frowned in return. Darkness began to creep along the edges of Elain’s sight, like a page slowly but surely being engulfed by flames. She clung to Lucien desperately, hands fisted in the loose fabric of his shirt.
Wrong, something felt awfully wrong—
Elain’s eyes snapped open.
It took her a moment to adjust to the dark, to fully see her surroundings and understand what had made her so uneasy.
Lucien was having a nightmare.
Elain could hear his rapidly beating heart, thunderous in the silence. His full lips pulled into a frown, an exact replica of the one in her dream. His brows were scrunched together and there was a tightness to his jaw.
Elain held her breath, remained still as her eyes did not leave her sleeping mate.
When a small grown fell from his lips, Elain could not help but reach out in an attempt to comfort him. Lucien did not stir at the contact, but she hoped he sensed her presence and that it was enough to help redirect his dreams. When Elain had first been changed, she had wished someone would have been there for her late in the night when terrible visions plagued her.
Lucien made another helpless sound, and Elain gently shook his shoulder. She tugged on the thread that connected them, her intention to slowly rouse him. “Lucien,” she whispered.
Elain could not be sure if it was her pull on the bond or simply the sound of his name that startled him into waking.
Flame simmered in his russet eye, golden and lovely, as he pulled away.
Elain’s hand fell to the mattress and she blushed in embarrassment when she realised just how close she had gotten to Lucien throughout the course of the night. Their knees had been touching, her foot hooked around his ankle.
“You alright?” Elain asked him, voice low, her question sincere.
Lucien nodded in response, swallowing before he spoke. “I’m fine, just sometimes… I thought you were someone else,” he said softly. “Sorry, Elain.”
She shook her head, if they had been standing, Elain would have shrugged. “Don’t worry, dreams can be awful.” She understood that fact better than most.
Lucien traced the scar that cut across his lip with a fast and seemingly unintentional flick of his tongue. “Thank you for waking me up,” he murmured before turning his back to her.
Elain stayed awake long enough to see the tense muscles in his shoulders relax as he drifted to sleep once more. She shut her eyes, waking at the sound of chirping birds in the morning.
Like he had been desperate to erase the night before from Elain’s memories, Lucien had offered to take her to one of the private balconies overlooking the courtyard.
“I’ll tell you about the flowers,” he had said, “and we won’t run into my father, either.”
Elain wished to avoid the High Lord for as long as she could, so she had accepted his offer and had let Lucien lead her there after breakfast.
Ever the gentleman, he had given her his arm to loop her own through, and had held the thick oak doors for her open as she made her way onto the little balcony.
Elain’s lips parted in silent shock at the beauty of the Autumn Court. The sky was still hidden despite how high they were and leaves fell around them, carried on the cool breeze. Branches from different types of trees reached up, ivy crawled along the stone walls of the palace, blocking it from being seen at a distance.
Elain walked with slow steps to the wooden railing, trailing her fingers along the carefully etched carvings. She looked in wonder at the courtyard below, eyes tracking the pathways, falling to flowers with dark green leaves and orange petals.
Lucien stood next to her and she leaned towards him so he could see where she was pointing. “What are those?”
“Jewelweed,” Lucien said. “If you touch them, they have a habit of exploding,” he laughed as she raised her brows at him. “I had a…a friend who really liked them.”
Elain bit her lip, considering her next words carefully and deciding it was best to simply ask. “Was it Jesminda?”
Lucien became still as a statue, she could practically feel a nervous edge to him. “I didn’t think you knew,” he said with a sigh.
Elain shrugged, “I’ve cornered Feyre a time or two to learn about you.” Her admission made her feel a bit awkward, but if she were being honest she would have told him she had collected countless pieces of information about his life.
“Yes,” he said, barely able to hold her gaze. “Jewelweed grows in the villages around the Forest House, I think Jesminda rather liked that touching it meant it would be destroyed.”
Elain did not think she liked the idea of being unable to touch the lovely petals, to bring her face close enough to take in its unique scent. “I like lilies,” she offered.
“I know,” Lucien chuckled, knocking into her side in a friendly manner. “Poor Feyre, I’ve also cornered her to learn about you.”
Elain rolled her eyes jokingly, “She’s such a busybody.” Missing her whole family in the Night Court, her sisters most of all, she turned her attention to some of the red roses Beron had been pruning. “The colour of the roses are strange,” she observed.
Lucien hummed in agreement. “In Spring, they were called blood roses.”
Elain frowned, suddenly feeling a sense of wrongness .
Lucien turned his body towards her, as though he would throw himself in harm’s way, responding to the unease he must have felt through their bond. Elain tilted her chin to look up at him, they were so close.
Come closer.
Elain silently urged Lucien, tugging on the golden thread between them, and he did. Her eyes fell to his lips and she heard as his breath caught in his throat.
Elain and Lucien pulled away from each other in a rush as the door to the balcony opened. A growl came deep from within Lucien’s chest at the interruption, and she felt a blush rise to the tips of her pointed ears, unable to look Callum Vanserra in the eyes until her heart beat had calmed.
“Apologies,” he stuttered, shocked in his tone although he did not sound disapproving or judgemental. Elain waved a hand, still too embarrassed to speak.
Callum bowed his head at her respectfully in greeting. “I didn’t mean to, uh, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said to Lucien, who merely sighed.
“You want something, Callum?” He said, his body language tense. Elain could not recall whether Lucien mentioned being particularly unhappy with this specific brother, but she almost winced at how cold and uncomfortable they acted around each other.
He cleared his throat before speaking, hands behind his back like a soldier standing at attention. Elain could not help but glance at the scar on his neck, could not help but notice how much like Beron he looked. Elain wondered if it bothered him, if he wished he looked more like Callista as the rest of his brothers did.
“Father will be returning from a short trip to the continent tomorrow,” Callum said. “He’s asked to see you in his study after breakfast, just you.” He clarified when Lucien looked ready to start an argument.
“Thank you, Callum,” he responded, a clear dismissal.
Callum did not seem the least bit offended by it, choosing to bow again at the waist in Elain’s direction before he winnowed away.
Elain waited a moment, ensuring her mate’s brother was gone to ask her question. “What do you think he wants?” It was unnecessary for her to specify who she meant, not wanting any of them to be alone with Beron if it could be avoided.
Lucien shook his head with a furrowed brow. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. Elain felt his unease as he shook his head once more, flashing her a small smile in an effort to calm her own nerves. “Want to go to the stables?”
Elain was grateful for Lucien’s attempts to make her more comfortable, so she smiled up at him, grabbing onto his hand without a second thought.
Notes:
thank you to everyone who has been reading this, your comments have been so unbelievably kind and have kept me motivated to finish this <3 the next few weeks are going to be a bit busy for me, so if this is updated a little less, i promise this has NOT been abandoned!!!
Chapter 20: Part XX
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The lovely hand-held mirror fell from Lucien’s small fingers, the emeralds on the hilt flashing in the torchlight as it crashed to the stone floors.
Shattered.
The pieces of glass around his booted feet winked as he looked down at them. He felt tears burning suddenly behind his eyes, and he swallowed, fighting back a sob with great effort.
Lucien might have been young, but he knew what it meant to break a mirror. Seventy years of misfortune, he recalled, breathing in sharply at the memory of his older brothers telling him as much.
He took a quick step back, hearing a crunch that set his heart beating at a faster pace. His parents would not be happy with him, he thought, his father most of all. He had been strictly forbidden from going into their shared chambers, but Lucien cared very little for rules, especially as they usually did not apply to him.
Some of his older brothers called him spoiled, mother’s favourite, without responsibilities. His other brothers called him lucky, allowed to do as he pleased, and able to get out of trouble and avoid father’s moods with the flash of an embarrassed smile.
Small for his age, and mostly left alone, Lucien found himself panicking at the thought that either of his parents might be disappointed.
He focused on the mess he had made, pushing all thoughts of misfortune from his mind and bringing his magic to the tips of his fingers. A flash of golden light cleaned up all the small pieces, the dusting of crushed mirror around his feet disappearing quickly, but he struggled to do the same with the large shards of glass.
Lucien rushed to pick them up, carelessly grabbing the last one, hissing in pain and nearly dropping it. He had cut his hand, feeling as though his bad luck had already begun.
Lucien’s hand was still bleeding, tears streaking down his face, as he knocked frantically on his eldest brother’s bedroom door. He had managed to clean up all the mirror pieces, had thrown away all the glass and taken the frame to hide in his closet, but the handkerchief he held to his palm had turned scarlet.
Lucien heard footsteps on the other side of the oak door and sighed in relief knowing that Eris was home. He trusted his eldest brother more than anyone and knew that he would not tell the others about the broken mirror.
As the door swung open, the hinges screaming, Lucien threw himself into the room. Clinging to Eris’ leg, he sobbed once and choked as he held back more tears.
“What’s happened?” Eris snapped, voice angry, a concerned edge to it. He placed a gentle hand on his younger brother’s shoulder, a sharp contrast to the tone he used. “Lucien, what’s wrong?”
With wide eyes, Lucien tilted his neck all the way back to look up at him. “I broke mama’s mirror,” he admitted. He held tightly to the fabric he had quickly wrapped around his palm, pulling away from Eris to show him the blood.
Eris seemed to relax slightly, shoulders no longer tense, as he knelt down to Lucien’s height. He hummed in response, “Causing trouble now that mother and father are in Spring?”
“I didn’t mean to,” Lucien rushed to explain as Eris used magic effortlessly to have a damp cloth appear in his large hand. “I was just—”
Eris wiped the tears from Lucien’s cheeks gently, pushing back loose curls as he did so. “You’re not supposed to go in there,” he interrupted.
“I know, I know,” Lucien hoped Eris was not disappointed. “I was just so bored and didn’t want to bother the others,” he admitted in a mumble.
Eris sighed, the torches growing brighter. “Let me see the cut.”
Lucien placed his small hand into Eris’s much larger one. Cringing as his older brother pulled away the fabric, clenching his eyes shut tightly in worry.
“Open your eyes, Lucien,” Eris said, amusement lining the words. When he was met with a nervous shake of Lucien’s head, he repeated himself, tone softer this time.
Lucien opened one, just a slit to peek through. He saw Eris raise an auburn brow, encouraging him to look at the cut. “Oh,” he breathed, witnessing with great interest as the skin knit itself back together.
“Grandmother was from Xian before she came to Autumn,” Eris said, and Lucien wondered if he was about to tell a story. Eris was not the best storyteller in their family, but with the Lady of Autumn in Spring and Callum at the war camps near the Winter border, Lucien figured Eris would be good enough in their absence. “Faeries would arrive to her on death’s door, and with a small wave of her hand she would send them on their way, better than before,” he continued. “She could heal anything.”
“Anything?” Lucien asked rather sceptically. He was finding it hard to believe since he had never met the female. The Lady of Autumn had no family, and he knew from those at court that they had all been killed in the war with Hybern.
Eris nodded, the short strands of hair by his shoulders looking like copper in the dim light of the room. “Anything but a broken heart, they say.”
At his older brother’s words, Lucien remembered the mirror. “Eris, I’ve been cursed,” he felt his lip quivering and he bit the inside of his cheek to make it stop. He tugged on the expensive fabric of Eris’ coat with his healed hand.
“By who?” Eris asked, although Lucien could tell he did not quite believe his claim.
“I broke a mirror,” he said softly. “That’s seventy years of misfortune, remember?”
He watched as Eris flashed him a small smile. Rare as a red moon, Lucien always felt a strange sense of triumph when he got his eldest brother to smile. Ruffling his hair, Eris reassured him. “Those are just ridiculous stories that mothers tell their sons so they won’t go on breaking their mirrors.”
When Jesminda had been killed, Lucien’s thoughts had returned to that day. For whatever reason, he continued to reflect on the distant memory as he walked towards his father’s study.
Lucien had woken up to find Elain pressed against him, and when he went to move, it only seemed to encourage her to hold onto his arm. Her hair had been fanned across the pillows, curls covering her eyes. She had made a soft noise as he had shifted. He had been torn between staying with her, or obeying his father’s order from the day before.
In the end, he had simply left Elain a note, the pull of the bond a steady ache as he had cast a final glance in her direction and had shut the door to their shared suite.
Lucien was dragged out of his memories and any thoughts of his mate by the sound of wood crashing against stone. He had been so absorbed by his own past, that he failed to realise just how close he had gotten to the High Lord’s study.
Lucien paused as Eris walked past the stone arch, slamming the door behind him, embers falling to the ground like leaves on a rough wind. He leaned heavily against the wall for a moment in defeat, and Lucien thought he must be truly distracted to have not yet noticed a grown male standing mere steps away.
The iron scent of blood had Lucien wincing as he watched Eris drag a beringed hand across his mouth, a scarlet streak cutting across the pale skin of his cheek.
“Eris, what happened?” Lucien asked softly, not wanting to draw their father’s attention.
At the question, Eris stiffened, shoulders drawn back, he shook his head. “Nothing,” he snapped.
Lucien waved a hand in his brother’s direction, raising a sarcastic brow in response. “Really?”
“Nothing that concerns you,” Eris said with a scowl as blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, staining the white collar of his shirt. He moved to shove past Lucien, but was met with an arm blocking his path.
“You alright?” Lucien questioned, frowning at the shock that briefly flashed in his brother’s eyes. He wondered at the last time someone had cared to ask Eris such a thing.
Lucien felt as the tense muscles beneath his grip loosened at the words. Their eyes met, and golden flames dimmed, returning to a sharp amber. The loud click his own eye made was thunderous in the heavy silence.
Eris nodded once, dipping his chin, gazes locked. “I’m fine,” he offered. “Nothing you need to worry about.” He had never sounded more ancient.
Lucien did not believe him, but he was not going to argue. Letting his hand fall to the side, Lucien turned to watch Eris walk away, but his older brother did not look back before he winnowed from the hall, the torches flaring with the burst of magic.
Lucien stared at the empty space for a moment, deciding he would ask Elain to check on him. They seemed to be getting along well, and he figured she might have an easier time pulling the truth from him. He quickly pushed all thoughts of Eris aside and focused once more on the task at hand.
As he approached the door to his father’s study, Lucien took a steadying breath. Just as he could feel panic crawling up his spine, he was surprised at the wave of calm that crashed over him. From the golden thread at his rib, it slowly fanned outwards, a comfort.
Lucien raised his fist, knocking three times, listening carefully for the response on the other side.
“Come,” his father’s low voice responded, muffled by the thick oak. The door opened easily on a phantom wind, noiseless.
Lucien bowed at the waist as soon he entered, the movement practised, respect in the face of the High Lord before him. Beron nodded in acceptance, setting aside the old looking parchment in his hands. He took off a pair of gold rimmed glasses and placed them on the hand drawn maps he had laid out on the desk.
“Good morning, Lucien.” He tilted his head to the chair on the other side of the large desk.
Lucien was glad for the obstacle between them, the little bit of distance. “Father,” he said, watching for any reaction from the male in front of him.
“I hope the time you and your mate have spent in our court has been enjoyable.” His expression was serious, a neutral mask with no cracks.
Lucien nodded, keeping his answer short. “Yes, thank you.”
Beron hummed in response. “I have not seen your mate in the gardens again,” he observed.
Lucien nearly snarled that Elain would not be returning to the courtyard, but he pushed down the initial instinct. Instead he frowned, “I asked her not to go again, so as not to disturb you, father.” The last word fell like a stone between them, accusing.
An emotion flashed in Beron’s dark eyes, looking to Lucien very much like regret. “She’s a nice girl,” he shrugged, the action smooth. “You and Elain Archeron are a good match.”
Perhaps if his father had suggested as much a few days ago, Lucien would have had to fight back a wince. Now that trust had slowly bloomed between Elain and him, an honest friendship growing, he could only nod.
They looked at each other a moment, Lucien searching the harsh lines of his father’s face as he had done countless times as a child. They had not looked alike then, his mother’s son in appearance and never in a position to contend for Autumn’s throne.
Beron sighed as his eyes fell to the scar that slashed across Lucien’s face. “I had wanted to go over some of the wedding preparations with you, but I will unfortunately be occupied for the rest of the day.” Waving a hand in dismissal, he ended their conversation. “Find your mother, she can finalise everything with your mate.”
Lucien felt numb, as though he had fallen through ice and been plunged into the waters beneath. There was one more week left before the wedding ceremony. He left the room, bowing slightly, mind elsewhere. He walked with slow steps back to the chambers he and Elain shared.
Lucien turned his father’s words over and over in his mind, that Elain and him made a good match. He felt a pull towards her, wanted to be near her, and he wondered if it was the effects of the bond, or simply because he was drawn to Elain.
You are mine, and I am yours.
Lucien decided he needed a break from the Forest House, and he would ask to see if Elain would like to come with him.
Notes:
i like the idea of lucien and eris slowly getting closer! not as much elucien in this one, but next update is titled ‘date night’ in my rough drafts LOL so i’m looking forward to finishing it!!! can’t believe i’m already twenty chapters in, low key didn’t think i had it in me, so a HUGE thank you to everyone who takes the time to comment <3 i’m working on another elucien multi-chapter fic (a modern au!!!) that i’ll be sharing later in the month, so updates might be a little slower! thank you for reading <3
Chapter 21: Part XXI
Chapter Text
Elain held onto Lucien’s arm tightly, the small smile he flashed her just before he winnowed brought her a sense of calm. Gold light, warm like the rays of a summer sun, enveloped them both.
The world scattered around Elain, colours and shapes falling apart only to come together once again as they reached their destination. Her head was spinning, still not entirely used to winnowing. She wondered if that unusual feeling would ever pass, if it would get better as the years trickled by.
Lucien’s grip was firm, his steadiness not surprising to Elain, but she envied how certain he was over the control of his own magic. The dreams she was having of Lucien were troubling, her imagination running wild, she could barely look at him without wanting to reach out and touch him. She was, at the very least, glad that those dreams provided her a welcome reprieve from the others that plagued her.
Endless night skies and bottomless lakes.
Dying leaves and hands made of bone.
Something was watching.
Hiding.
Waiting.
Elain could have shivered just thinking about the nightmares, and as grateful as she was over the fact that no visions tormented her while she was awake, she suspected the fragile hold she had on her abilities would surely snap eventually. She released a small sigh, no longer in denial about what was happening.
Elain was in need of a distraction, so when Lucien had come to her after having spent the morning with his father and suggested they do something, anything, she was more than happy to join him. His shoulders had dropped with relief, his jaw had unclenched at her quick reply. They were more comfortable around each other, but there was still a bit of uncertainty underlying every one of their interactions.
That uncertainty was being chipped away the more time they spent together, resentment falling into the rhythms of an honest friendship. Elain had come to the decision that she and Lucien had gone beyond just simple allies, and as she had taken off her mask, he had been more than willing to do the same.
Elain liked Lucien.
Getting to the point where she could even admit such a thing seemed like a step in the right direction, the dull pull of the mating bond muted now that they had grown closer. It no longer frustrated her, it simply existed, and slowly learning about Lucien was rewarding as she came to find out how well she knew him despite how little they had spoken in the last few years.
Elain had guessed that he was desperate to get away from the Forest House, and that as long as there was some distance between himself and the rest of his family, Lucien would allow himself a moment to unwind.
She had felt him, just as surely as she could feel the ground beneath her feet. Lucien had been on the brink of panic, his anxiety echoing in her skull, and Elain had wanted to reassure him. She willed as much, and it was done. The bond, no matter that it had not yet been accepted, was as gentle as any lover’s caress as Elain reached out towards Lucien with nothing but her thoughts.
As Elain began to take in their new surroundings, the bridge connecting their two souls was quiet, like the break of dawn, peaceful.
The gentle breeze was cool against her cheeks, the afternoon sun high in the sky. Autumn was striking in its beauty, ancient and lovely, and the Forest House had been interesting, but it did not compare to the court’s capital city.
Elain and Lucien were standing on one of the many winding stone paths, young trees planted along the edges to reveal the countless storefronts. Faeries were going about their business, some walking around leisurely while others winnowed in a burst of sparks.
Elain felt her lips part in awe, amazed that she had lived in Prythian for years and had yet to visit a city outside of the Night Court.
“You alright?” Lucien asked, checking on her after winnowing a few times to reach their destination.
Elain hummed in response, nodding absently.
Hollowed tree trunks had windows and doors, and Elain realised people actually lived in them. A faerie with wings opened her shutters to water the hanging pots along the sill. Small children ran past them, laughing, careless.
“Lucien,” she started, a breathless edge to her voice, “Lucien, this city is beautiful.” She tilted her head up towards him, his warm smile a welcome sight.
“I haven’t come in decades,” he admitted, russet eye bright, the golden one whirring softly.
Had Lucien not revealed the information to her, Elain would have assumed he came often. He walked along the streets with the confidence of someone who was at ease, like he was home.
Elain adjusted her hold on him, letting her palm trail along his arm before she reached for his hand. As she laced their fingers together, she felt surprise shoot down the bond before it was replaced with a feeling of content. Elain bit her lip at her own boldness, she knew a blush had bloomed along her cheeks. She was glad Lucien said nothing, or else she might have pulled away from him in embarrassment.
Lucien led Elain towards the city square, where booths had been set up, various items being sold at each one. Small, triangular, burnt-orange flags were attached to long strings and hung between the buildings, reminding Elain of a festival she and her sisters had gone to as small girls. Their father had bought them each a gift; books for Nesta, a set of paint brushes for Feyre, and a potted plant for Elain. She could still remember the little sunflower, how she had placed it by the window in her bedroom. It had been Elain’s first, and she smiled at the memory as Lucien bought them both an apple tart.
Everyone clearly knew who Lucien was, but no one approached or treated them any differently. Unlike when Rhysand and Feyre walked the streets of Velaris, those in Autumn seemed to make a great effort to mind their business and avoid looking in the direction of the High Lord’s son. Elain wondered if it was because the Vanserra family scared them, but having spent some time in the court, she assumed it was simply them trying to be polite.
As they walked, Lucien explained what some of the vendors were selling and provided Elain with some much needed insight on Autumn’s unique culture. She took in all of the information happily, enjoying the way her mate seemed to glow as he spoke about something from his childhood.
“It’s strange being away from the Forest House,” Elain offered as Lucien walked from the city square down a much quieter street. She held a bag of maple syrup candies in her hand, savouring the sweet and salty taste as she popped another one in her mouth.
Lucien’s eyes tracked the movement and she tried to ensure she did not blush at his attention. He shrugged, doing the same, before he asked, “Good strange?”
Elain nodded, casting a glance around them as she replied. “Amazing.”
Lucien grinned down at her, his expression full of pride. “I haven’t come since before Amarantha,” he held Elain’s hand tightly as he helped her down a few steps, she clutched her skirts, slippers flashing. “Glad to see that nothing’s really changed.”
The part of the city they were now in seemed older to Elain, smaller houses made of stone separated shops and restaurants, the trees were taller, looking as though they were holding up the sky. Elain could not be sure how much time had passed, but the sun was slowly beginning to set. The horizon was a mix of orange, yellow, and red, perfectly matching the leaves that continued to fall.
Lucien’s golden eye clicked as a grin broke across his handsome features and he steered Elain towards a building. He had clearly been looking for it, Elain realised, his voice holding a restrained eagerness as he spoke. “Want to see some Autumn Court magic?”
Elain breathed a short laugh. “You don’t even have to ask,” she replied, his childlike attitude at the prospect of showing her a little piece of his life was infectious.
Lucien pushed a carved wooden door open, a bell announcing their presence, and held it for Elain so she could pass. She gripped her skirts as she entered, surprised at the sudden burst of heat in the small space. It was like walking into an oven, a stark contrast to the cool air outside. Her mate followed a moment later, but Elain was too distracted to pay him any mind, especially as a large faerie on the room’s opposite end put unprotected hands into a roaring fire.
Elain gasped, but her concern was short lived as the man called out without looking in their direction. “We’re closed.”
Lucien seemed completely undeterred as he glanced around. “Even for an old friend, Castor?” He placed a hand low on Elain’s back and she leaned into his casual touch.
The blacksmith turned with no urgency, leaving the glowing piece of metal in his hands onto a stone counter. He raised a dark brow, wiping his fingers on an already stained apron. “My eyes must be deceiving me,” he said, and Elain noticed they were a striking shade of red, unlike any eyes she had ever seen.
Castor walked around the counter, hand outstretched and Lucien pulled the other man close for an embrace. Elain was fully aware he had friends in the court he had been raised in, but she could not help but be a bit surprised that his former acquaintances were not strictly Forest House nobles and high fae.
Castor’s accent was less sharp than the one she had begun to associate with Autumn, but it was just as lovely. “Mother, it’s been a century about, hasn’t it?”
“Not that long,” Lucien replied with a laugh, gesturing for Elain to come over. “Thought I’d bring my mate to the city, show her around.”
Despite the other man’s massive size, he shook Elain’s hand gently, tilting his chin in a small bow. “And you bring the poor girl here?” He was shaking his head, clicking his tongue as he addressed her. “The eastern territories are much nicer.”
“Guess I’ll force him to take me there next,” Elain smiled and she saw a dark blush stain his light brown cheeks as she spoke. “I’m Elain,” she introduced, not bothering with last names or titles.
“What can I do for you?” He asked, back to business, gesturing around his forge. Elain was instantly drawn to the battle axes leaning against the wall, although they were all probably much too heavy for her to lift.
Lucien scrunched his nose, “I was hoping to show Elain some of our more interesting Autumn magic, maybe buy myself a dagger.”
Castor huffed a laugh. “More knives? I suppose you haven’t changed all that much.” He faced Elain, amusement lining his handsome features. “Eris used to drag your poor mate here to watch me make weapons, he’d sit right on the counter, legs crossed, the most well behaved youngling I’d ever seen.” He shook his head at the memory, and Elain could imagine it clearly. She knocked her shoulder playfully against Lucien’s arm.
“Eris swears I was a little monster,” Lucien laughed, thinking about some of the better times in his past, Elain was sure.
“Your brother’s a liar,” Castor waved a hand dismissively, “I should know.” He flashed Elain a shy smile, another blush on his cheeks as he made his way behind the counter once more. “Take a look around,” he offered, “let me finish the blade I was working on and I’ll be right with you.” He was doing it for her benefit, surely, and Elain was glad he was taking the time to do so. She had not expected kindness in the Autumn Court, but was increasingly surprised by how much she liked spending time in a place she had been convinced she would despise.
Elain watched with fascination as Castor forged the long piece of metal into a sword. Time passed, but she could not be sure how much. He explained in great detail what he was doing, and she enjoyed the small lesson. Lucien told her about the history of blacksmiths in Autumn, declaring with great confidence that they had the best metalworkers in all of Prythian. Elain believed him, unsure how anyone could be more talented than those who possessed flame in their blood.
Once Castor had finished with the sword, Lucien took Elain to a shelf with daggers, asking for her opinion on which one was nicest. She chose one with diamonds along the silver hilt, surprised at how easily her mate encouraged her to swipe at the air with it, doing the same afterwards when he told her to lift one of the battle axes she had been eying.
The genuine encouragement shocked her momentarily. Elain could not imagine her family allowing her to even touch one in Night. She did not like violence, but she had always been charmed by things that were lovely.
“You forged all of these?” Elain asked Castor, forgetting herself entirely as she dropped to her knees in front of a particularly beautiful axe. She imagined swinging it at Beron, at how absurd it would have been to any onlookers. She could admit that it would have solved the problem with her and Lucien’s ever more quickly approaching wedding. She traced the ancient writing on the silver, making sure to keep her fingers away from the sharp edge. Castor hummed his response, and Elain smiled back at him. “They’re very pretty.”
“If you like the axe so much, I can buy it for you,” Lucien offered, she could hear the joke in his tone, feel the amusement that trickled down the bond. Elain would not have been able to lift the axe in front of her even if all their lives depended on it.
“Maybe next time,” Elain said with a smile, gripping Lucien’s outstretched hand to stand up. She straightened her skirts as Lucien paid for his dagger, and Elain figured it was probably getting late.
Castor wished them well, ordering them to return again and to tell Eris to show his face in the city more often. As they walked out of the blacksmith’s shop, Elain waved, hoping they would be back soon. It was almost surprising that she would want such a thing, especially since when she imagined returning, Lucien was at her side. She pushed the thought to the back of her mind, deciding it would be best to examine it at a different time.
“You up for one last stop?” Lucien asked, offering her his arm like a perfect gentleman.
Elain hooked her elbow through his, smiling as she nodded her head.
Once again, he led her through quieter streets, and now that the sun was just about ready to hide behind the horizon, torches slowly sparked to life as faeries rushed home for the evening.
Lucien turned a corner and Elain would have stopped in her tracks to marvel at the sight in front of them had he not continued his steady steps forward.
There were no more shops and houses, no more people, only endless forest. Different types of trees created a thick maze, one Elain would not have dared approach otherwise. It was ancient, thrumming with a magic she recognised as belonging to Lucien, to his family.
The path they were walking on was lined with jewelweed and it did not end until it reached a fountain carved from pale stone, the last faerie-made object before Autumn overtook her line of sight.
It was romantic, thoughtful . No one had ever done anything so kind for her, certainly not anyone she had been courting. She had to remind herself that Lucien was doing no such thing, that they were simply good friends spending a day together.
Water fell from each layer of stone, but it looked like burnished gold, like something out of a story. She could not help the breathless “oh” that fell from her lips, moving away from her mate and towards the fountain.
“From the coins,” Lucien explained. “One wish in exchange for a mark made of gold.” With a flash of his sunbright magic, two coins appeared in his hand and he offered them to her with a little bow at the waist.
Elain was so unbelievably grateful for the effort he had gone to in order to show her the place he had been raised in, her heart was pounding as her eyes fell to the male she had never wanted as her mate.
My mate.
Elain did not reach for the coins, she simply got onto the tips of her toes. Placing her hand on Lucien’s shoulder to keep her balance, she heard as the breath caught in his throat, she felt as shock filtered down the bond.
Elain pushed aside her nerves, let her eyes flutter shut, as she gently pressed her lips to the corner of Lucien’s mouth. She was not yet bold enough to take the things she wanted, her upbringing warring with instinct.
“Lucien,” she said softly as his one hand came to rest on her waist. She kissed him again, in the same spot, feeling the scar that cut through his full bottom lip. She urged him to take control, pressed herself entirely against him. He was familiar and she was struck with the feeling that she had known him in a different life, that the fates existed and she would have found a way to meet Lucien under any circumstances.
Lucien’s hand fell to her hip and he brushed his mouth against hers. Elain wrapped an arm around his neck, the taste enough to make her release a whimper. She could hardly remember the last time anyone had made her feel good about herself, confident.
Elain returned the kiss, starved for her mate, desperate to be closer to him. She traced the seam of his lips with the smallest flick of her tongue, pulling away as pure desire roared through her veins. Unable to face Lucien just yet, she put her face against his chest, and he hugged her in return.
“Today was really nice,” she murmured, an understatement. She would remember the day they had spent together for the rest of her immortal life, would look back on it fondly, with no regrets. Elain felt as he hummed in response, the sound ringing in her ears. “Thank you,” she added.
“You still want to make your wish?” Lucien asked, his voice strained. Elain smiled at the effect she seemed to have on him, glad that it was at least mutual.
She moved away, letting her fingers trail along his shoulder before she reached for the gold coins he held out for her. His heart was beating rapidly, the rhythm matching her own.
Elain took the one coin, still not meeting his eyes. She tucked a stray curl behind her pointed ear, biting her lip. “What should I wish for?”
“For whatever you like,” he replied with an elegant shrug. “Just don’t tell anyone after.” He tossed the golden mark, and Elain’s ears strained to hear the sound of it hitting the water. She was curious as to what he might have wished for, but she knew the superstition and feared he would simply tell her if she asked him to share.
Elain took a deep breath, considering her wish carefully. She hoped Lucien and her could return to the city, that they could spend more time together exploring the Autumn Court.
Elain traced the rim of the coin with her finger, confident in her wish. She could feel Lucien’s eyes on her as she threw it towards the fountain.
Elain watched as the coin seemed to flash in the light of the setting sun, falling into the gentle stream of water, golden like the bridge that connected her soul to Lucien’s.
Notes:
thank you to everyone who has left a kind comment, writing this is hard, but seeing your reactions is rewarding <3
Chapter 22: Part XXII
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
There was something about the music that was making Lucien’s head ache. The string instruments were off-kilter, an odd mix of sounds, the drums pounding to the beat of his heart. The blood in his veins seemed to be moving slower than normal, the room was spinning.
Eyes clenched shut, Lucien placed a hand on his temple, the mask permanently stuck to his brow in the way. The cold metal bit into the skin of his palm, sharp as any knife’s blade. His breath caught in his throat, the air around him seemed stale.
He had forgotten.
There was a warning shiver that crawled up his spine as he attempted to remove the mask from its place, the binding magic painfully familiar. His golden eye clicked before it whirred softly and he cast a careful glance around the throne room.
There was a crowd assembled in the large space, sparkling chandeliers casting all the faeries in a strange light. Had he not known better, he would have assumed they all possessed fangs. Viper like smiles flashed, canines sharp enough to draw blood pressed against rose red lips.
Lucien easily spotted members of the Spring Court, their own masks glittering, looking like starlight. He could not recognise any of their faces, their features mixed together until he frowned from the effort.
There was no starlight Under the Mountain, Lucien remembered, nothing but darkness.
A sigh was pulled from his lips and Lucien rubbed a broad hand on his chest, stopping just above his ribs, the fabric of his jacket cheap enough to scratch at his skin. Leaning back into his seat, he let his fingers trace the carved black stone of the arm rest. He much preferred the maple thrones of the Autumn Court, they were far more comfortable, familiar despite the decades that had passed.
A laugh shattered the illusion that Lucien was sitting alone.
Like the point of a sword dragging sharply against marble, Amarantha laughed again and he winced at the nearness of the sound.
Lucien was going to throw up, he felt the burning in his throat as he realised how close he was to the wretched female, so unbelievably close. He was so nervous, he could not even find it within himself to be embarrassed by the whimper that he made as a response to noticing that he and Amarantha were on a dais overlooking the
crowd.
They were sitting on twin thrones, snakes carved into the stone of the legs. This was everything like the Court of Nightmares was in his imagination, there was nothing worse than being trapped prisoner beneath a mountain. Lucien shuddered, knowing exactly whose place he was in.
Where was Tamlin?
The thought was jarring, enough so that Lucien felt his jaw clench in anxiety. He bit his tongue to keep himself from asking the question out loud, tasting the sharp iron of blood.
Amarantha laughed once more, a chorus of giggles and cackles rising from the assembled crowd. The sound echoed in Lucien’s mind as the attendees split a clear path in the middle of the floor.
The Attor had entered the space and the creature slinked its way towards its queen. Wings flared as it flashed a wicked smile in Lucien’s direction, the grey flesh around its mouth pulled taut.
The Attor was not alone.
Claws gripped a cloaked figure, golden curls shone bright as sunlight beneath brown fabric. A girl — a human — was being dragged towards the raised platform. She was looking down, eyes following the pattern of the marble beneath her slippered feet.
Lucien felt as panic choked him, as he lunged from his seat only to fall onto his knees. Something sparked within his chest, a thunderous snap urging him to move.
“My mate,” he said softly, like it was a prayer. No one could have heard, and yet the girl looked up.
Brown eyes, the rich colour of a fawn’s coat, met his across the throne room. A shining thread gleamed to life, shooting towards the girl like a star, from Lucien’s heart to hers. His golden eye was the only witness to such magic before it disappeared. He was instantly pulled towards her, was ready to crawl on his hands and knees to get to her.
Amarantha gripped his shoulder tightly, her sharp nails cut through the fabric of his shirt, split skin. Lucien spared her only a moment’s glance before he twisted his head to look sharply at the Attor, at the girl who was thrown in a careless heap to the ground.
Elain Archeron, Lady of Roses.
The thought washed over him like a wave crashing against a rocky shore.
Lucien would have known her, their bond strong enough to sharpen his senses into remembering.
The Attor pulled at her hood to reveal rounded ears, cheeks pale with fear, eyes wide as she openly stared at Lucien.
“Elain,” he called out, but there was no recognition in that lovely gaze. As though he were a stone thrown into a lake, he felt himself sinking.
Falling.
Lucien jolted awake with his mate’s name still on his tongue.
He was clutching the pillow beneath his head tightly, knuckles white. It was dark, perhaps very late in the night considering there were only embers in the fireplace. Cool, fresh air filtered into the small space and he distantly remembered leaving one of the arched windows open.
For a moment, Lucien had forgotten where he was. He rubbed at his eyes, regaining a sense of his surroundings. His golden eye clicked into place and he froze, all the muscles in his body tense when he noticed the empty side of the bed.
Elain was gone, but her scent was everywhere .
Jasmine and green grass, so out of place within the Autumn Court. It lingered on his skin, on his clothes, and Lucien realised she must have been holding onto him as they slept.
Lucien’s hand reached out involuntarily to pat at the wrinkled sheets. The fabric was still warm, a phantom imprint of her head still on the fluffy pillows. He breathed in deeply, mind a whirl as he wondered where she might be.
Or who might have taken her.
Lucien lurched into a sitting position, breath caught in his chest as his head snapped towards the open windows.
“Elain,” he whispered softly, an unspoken well of emotions as he uttered her name into the silence.
She had pulled one of the comfortable armchairs right up to the sill. Her chin was in her hands, her full lips turned down slightly in the corners. Not exactly a frown, but she seemed lost in thought, pensive. She was looking up towards the sky, searching for something she had yet to find.
“You can’t see the moon,” she said, voice clear as river water. “Through the trees, I mean.” Elain turned to face him and Lucien felt his cheeks warm, a blush rising to the tips of his pointed ears.
A couple of days had passed, and they not yet spoken about the kiss they had shared. There was no awkwardness between them, no feelings of regret that he could feel from her end of the bond. If anything, their friendship was stronger, the bridge between their souls thrumming just beneath his rib cage.
“You alright?” Lucien asked, voice quiet, hoping that she would answer honestly.
Elain sighed, her shoulders dropping in defeat. “I couldn’t sleep,” she admitted. She played with the end of her braid, a nervous edge to the gesture.
Lucien said nothing, simply waited for her to continue.
Elain sighed once more, placed a hand onto her forehead. “I’ve been having these dreams,” she mumbled. He could tell from the anxiety that leaked into her tone that there was more to it all than she was currently choosing to share. “They’re very strange dreams, Lucien.”
He tried to calm her steadily rising panic through the bond, keeping his voice soft as he addressed her. “Nightmares?”
Elain shook her head, a few stray curls fell from her braid with the movement. “Visions,” she whispered, the word barely a hissed breath falling from behind gritted teeth.
Lucien’s blood ran cold at his memories of her from the war, the shell of a person that she had become while lost in images of the future. “Don’t worry,” he attempted to reassure her, but Elain’s eyes were wide with fear. He was glad she had spoken quietly, suddenly paranoid that someone might be listening. “We’ll figure it out, Elain, don’t worry.”
“I don’t understand them,” Elain muttered, more to herself than to him. She looked like a withered flower, as though thinking about what she saw was enough to seep life from her.
Lucien wanted her to close the window. He weaved a simple spell around them, to ensure that no one could hear what else they might have said. The sounds of nature fell silent, unnerving to his ears even though it was of his own doing. “Come back to bed,” he offered, wondering why no one had taken it upon themselves in the Night Court to teach her, to help her when it came to her abilities.
“I was doing so well,” Elain said to him, tears bright as silver shining along her eyes. “I hadn’t seen any since the war, it’s been years .” There was frustration in her statement, the legs of the chair scratched along the stone floor as she stood abruptly.
“Elain,” Lucien began, licking his lips as he watched her. “Magic doesn’t work like that, you need to use whatever power you have or it consumes you.” She stood as still as a predator, listening carefully to his every word. It gave him the courage to continue, to at least warn her how dangerous her actions were. “Magic needs release and suppressing it only makes things worse.”
Elain looked just about ready to break down into sobs. “I didn’t know,” she mumbled, fingers working the fabric of her night gown.
“That’s alright,” Lucien said quietly, putting out his hand towards her. He was struggling not to blame the Inner Circle for their silent disregard of her abilities, of the sheer amount of power they chose to forget that she possessed. “Like I said, we’ll figure it out.”
Elain eyed him, but she no longer looked so devastated. She inched towards him, slowly but surely. “I have no clue what the visions could mean, none at all.”
Once she laced her fingers with his, Lucien flashed her a small smile. “Maybe I can help you work them out, I am known to be quite clever.”
When Elain returned his smile, sitting on the mattress beside him, Lucien’s relief was overwhelming. She told him about how she had had no visions, no whisper of any other magic emerging. She had wrongly assumed that along with the destruction of the cauldron, her abilities had disappeared.
By the time Elain was finished revealing the many details of her dreams, they were lying down beneath the covers. Facing each other, close enough their noses were nearly touching, Elain continued to express how worried she was.
“The bones worry me the most,” she murmured. “What else could they mean but death?”
Lucien nearly flinched as he considered her visions. He also had no idea what they could mean, but even he could not argue with her observation. “We’ll search the library, I’m sure we can find some answers there, maybe even a book on deciphering dreams.”
Elain hummed in agreement, and although she still seemed worried, there seemed to be a huge weight lifted from her shoulders. She fell silent, her eyes fluttering shut, and Lucien assumed it was time for them to sleep.
Elain moved closer to him, their legs a tangled mess beneath the sheets. “What were you dreaming about?” Her question had him snapping his eyes open, he traced the curve of her jaw with his eyes as he shrugged.
“Amarantha,” he answered, knowing she would recognise the name. He hoped she would not ask for more information, he was still not used to speaking about all that had occurred Under the Mountain.
Nails sharp as any blade.
Unbearable pain shooting through his head.
Blood on the marble floors.
Lucien was pulled back to the present as he heard the animalistic snarl that fell from Elain’s pretty mouth. Almost as though she knew exactly what awful place his mind had taken him to.
Eyes locked, Elain reached out hesitantly. Lucien noticed a slight shaking to her hand and he held his breath, waiting, anticipating her touch.
Elain’s hand hovered in the space between them. He was usually more aware, careful of his scar and his eye, keeping them covered beneath the curtain of his hair or turned away from those around him.
Lucien had forgotten himself, had fallen onto the pillows unthinkingly. Elain could see him perfectly.
There was a pause, a moment in time where the world seemed to stop its spinning.
Lucien dipped his chin in a silent nod, giving Elain the permission she was seeking. With gentle fingers, she traced the scar where it began, just above his brow. He heard the soft way Elain’s breath caught in her throat, felt as horror at what had been done to him slowly leak down the bond.
“I would have liked to see her death,” Elain mumbled, the promise of violence in her tone. She moved even closer to him, each of her breaths ragged.
Lucien said nothing, could hardly stand the look of absolute rage falling over her features. Beneath it all, he saw that she cared, and it frightened him unlike anything else.
Lucien let his eyes flutter shut, Elain’s soft touch an anchor.
Everyone always thought it was best to ignore the scar, to divert their eyes as quickly as possible. They would look away from him, perhaps in an attempt to be polite.
Lucien could not bear it, had wanted to shout that the scar was there to stay, that they should look at him.
Look at me.
Elain continued to map out the features of his face, to stroke at his split auburn brow before she inched towards his eyelid. The skin there was so thin, it was surprising that the healers and Dawn had been able to save it all, and she softened her touch even more.
Light as a feather, her thumb brushed his eyelashes.
Elain did not stop, did not even pause as she pressed her palm to his cheek. The most brutal of his scars, the one everyone flinched away from. Faeries, with their ability to heal hardly ever had any marks that lasted the test of time. He had only ever seen a few permanent marks — the ones on his brothers’ backs. Everything else would fade, return to how it once was, unless the wound had been particularly harsh.
Elain though, had a human heart, and as Lucien had come to learn, humans were creatures that could embrace change and thrive .
Elain finally stopped once she had traced the smaller scar that cut across his lips. She pressed a gentle kiss there, nothing but a sweet brush of their mouths.
Lucien shifted, pulled her close so that he might kiss her again. She smiled against him, threading her fingers into his hair. His hand was on her waist, and they were kissing, his tongue past the seam of her lips.
Elain was not as shy this time, falling onto his chest when Lucien laid down onto his back. She gasped when he dragged his teeth along her full bottom lip, returning the kiss as she cupped his face with both her hands.
Lucien let her decide what she wanted to do next, and was surprised at the way she moved against him. He ran his hands from her waist, up her back, and towards her hip, urging her to do as she pleased.
Elain took her time, kissing him sweetly on the mouth one last time. Then she kissed his cheek, lips like silk. Finally, she kissed his eyebrow, pulling away to gauge his expression.
Even in the dark, Lucien could see that she was blushing. He smiled up at her, and she seemed to realise that she was leaning on him with all of her weight.
Elain breathed a small laugh, falling onto her side of the bed. He heard her giggle into the pillows as she turned to face the opposite direction. She pressed her back against him, and Lucien threw an arm over her, waiting to see if she would ask him to move.
Elain simply relaxed into his hold. “Good night, Lucien,” she said softly.
“Good night,” Lucien murmured, falling asleep as he thought about the gentle way Elain had traced his scar with her fingers.
Notes:
next chapter will be a short eris pov!!! i can’t help myself, he’s being messy in my google doc and i need to share! thank you for reading and to those who take the time to comment <3
Chapter 23: Part XXII.V (Eris Vanserra)
Summary:
i had to include a chapter with a pov from my favourite morally grey redhead!!! these events follow the last part, next chapter will be back to regular elucien shenanigans :)
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Eris tilted his head, wolf like, as his ears caught the gentle sound of keys going into the lock of the room’s door. He frowned, not having heard any footsteps, but even in the dim lighting, he knew it was simply Cora returning to her chambers for the evening.
Eris sat up from where he had been sprawled across her small bed, leaning his elbow on her pillows, setting down the sketchbook he had idly been flipping through until the Night Court female had returned.
She was humming a musical tune softly to herself and Eris could not help but find it endearing, especially as she fumbled to strike a match, her eyes not having adjusted to the dark.
“I forget,” Eris began, smiling involuntarily at her yelp of surprise, “that you can’t light the torches.” He willed the smallest bit of his own magic to do so, shadows falling across the room, highlighting the sharp planes of Cora’s lovely face as she scowled at him.
Her glare could level mountains, Eris thought, nodding his chin at her in greeting. She crossed her arms, raised a brow in question. “Can’t go an entire day without me?” Her accent was thick with the rhythms of the Hewn City, the vowels short and the consonants striking.
I can’t.
Eris would have rather cut out his own tongue than admit such a thing to the wicked creature standing before him. He lifted a shoulder, “I usually get what I want.”
“You’re spoiled,” she snapped, her ever present bite to the words were without an ounce of patience, although she did not ask him to leave and Eris fought to maintain the uncaring expression on his features.
“You were with Elain.” He knew that his brother’s mate was worried about the quickly approaching equinox, and while Eris had ensured she remained safe, he was hardly going to concern himself with the disastrous predicament she had gotten herself into when she had told his father that she and Lucien were to be married.
Eris had been confident that Cora’s response would have been a resounding yes, but she shook her head at him. “I was with your mother,” she corrected. “I was helping her with the floral arrangements for the wedding.”
Eris could not help but frown. “And she needed you for that?” He would have preferred the Lady of Autumn to stay away from Cora. For selfish reasons, since his mother could be meddlesome, and because he did not entirely trust Elain’s friend.
Cora locked the door behind her, not looking at him as she placed the keys onto the mantle of the fireplace. “I think she must be lonely.” There was an edge of understanding in the tone she used that suggested perhaps she was familiar with the feeling.
Probably, but Eris would never admit that the loneliness could be a noose for everyone within his family, its hold tightening around the necks of the Autumn Court as time passed and there was no shift in power.
Without Lethe and Kai — without Callum — Eris might have been lonely, too. His frown deepened and he tried to shake the thought from his mind, he and his mother were not on the best of terms, not since Lucien had been born, but his chest ached when he considered the isolated life the High Lord’s wife led.
Eris was not going to spend the rest of his evening talking about his mother to a female he barely knew, so he began to idly stroke the edge of the sketchbook. He flipped between the pages, the paper rough. He hummed in response, to let Cora decide if he was agreeing with her observation or not, and tossed her sketchbook onto the nightstand. He focused on the way she began to take the braid out of her hair, followed the column of her neck with his eyes, the flames of the fireplace making her skin seem smooth as stone.
“Your drawings are nice,” Eris offered into the silence. Cora had sketched the forest, the library, his hounds — even his bedroom — near perfectly. “You would have made a better artist than a lady’s maid.” She snorted in response, scrunching her nose at his words. “Have you considered switching professions?” He meant it sincerely. From what he had seen, she was quite dreadful at her job, to the point where Eris truly believed she was Elain Archeron’s personal guard.
Cora was certainly blood thirsty enough for it, a fact Eris quite liked about her. She had her secrets, he was sure, everyone did. He tugged at the little golden hoop on his earlobe as he waited for her to answer.
Cora combed gentle fingers through her hair, considering his question seriously. She frowned in thought, and Eris took a moment to admire the way her full lips turned down into a pout. “I could never be an artist.”
“Why not?” He might have been more curious if she had not decided to lift her skirts, flashing the skin of her ankle while she slipped off her shoes. It was his attempt at learning more about her, allowing her the chance to speak, since she shared nothing without a bit of prompting.
You talk so much, and yet you say so little.
Eris had huffed a laugh at her remark, the only thing she had snarled at him as he had escorted her to Elain on their first day in the Autumn Court. He had found Cora startling , when most things at his age were simply to be expected.
Eris had since learned that he was a raging forest fire in her presence, and she seemed to be the wind breathing more life into the flames. He could hardly look away from her when she was near, his eyes falling onto her when she entered any room.
He had been half hard at the thought of her lips, at the promise of her kisses, before he had even opened the door to the small space he was now in.
Eris watched as Cora raised her shoulders in a shrug, as she made her way with elegant steps across the carpeted floors and towards the bed. His breath caught in his throat as she sat on the edge of the mattress, he could hear her steady pulse in his ears.
“They wouldn’t let you, in the Hewn City?” He said softly, remembering she had been responding to another one of his questions with her shrug.
Cora placed her hand so close to where his rested on the blankets, and he silently urged her to reach out, to let her fingers inch forward ever so slightly. She did not, choosing instead to blow a strand of her dark hair away from her eyes.
Cora shook her head, “They have more need of musicians.”
Eris’s mind turned to the solstice balls he had attended in the Night Court, the lilting music that everyone danced to as the evening went on. “So you don’t play an instrument,” he concluded.
To his surprise, she laughed, the sound echoing in his skull.
Lovely.
“I’m very old,” she moved towards him suddenly, their noses nearly touching as she got onto her knees. “I play three.”
Eris breathed in deeply, the scent of spruce trees and mountain air lingered and he felt drunk, his thoughts slow. “Very impressive,” he murmured, falling onto his back as Cora crawled towards him, her intentions clear. She placed a hand on his shoulder, using him for balance, one leg going over his waist so that she could straddle his lap.
Cora hovered above him, and while Eris had been expecting a kiss, he froze as she raised a hand towards his upturned face. She let scar-flecked fingers trail along the sharp line of his cheekbone, her thumb stopping on his lips.
They stayed like that for a moment, before Eris broke the heavy silence. “Kiss me,” he ordered, but even to his own ears the words were breathless, the illusion of control. Cora ignored him, choosing to instead unlace the strings at his throat. She traced his jaw gently, and he stilled as she reached for his neck.
“Getting into fights?” She murmured and Eris winced. He had forgotten about the bruises, about the punches thrown between himself and Ronan moments before he had gone looking for her.
It would have been too much to explain that he and Ronan always argued about the war camps now settled further into Spring’s territory, especially since Cora’s loyalties laid with the High Lord and Lady of Night.
Eris decided not to answer, pulling her down so that he could nip at the skin between her neck and shoulder. His hand grappled for purchase in the fabric of her skirts, pulling them up so they could pool closer to her knees. He let his palm travel up the smooth curve of her calf, kissed her neck as he brushed his canines against her pulse. Eris paused at the knife strapped to the inside of her thigh, pulling away to raise an auburn brow at her.
Cora blushed, her brown cheeks darkening a shade at the desire she must have spotted in his amber eyes. “For later,” she said, a mischievous smile gracing her stunning features. He felt himself further harden at the thought, pants straining as he wondered how she might put her blade to use. He would let her draw blood if she wished.
“Planning my murder?” Eris asked as Cora made herself comfortable, knees on either side of him. She pulled up her skirts further and his eyes tracked the movement, his hands followed along, touching every inch of skin she revealed. She was teasing, fully aware of the effect she had on him.
Cora hummed, the sound making him shiver. “I do love treason.”
Eris breathed a small laugh, a dreadful mistake on his part. The scent of her arousal lingered around them and he found himself growing tired of her games. He needed to taste her, had been thinking about it all day.
Tightening his grip on the back of her thighs, Eris pulled Cora forward, perhaps more roughly than he intended.
She threw out her hands, catching herself on the headboard, looking down at him with disdain. He had forgotten for a moment how small she was. Her dark hair fell around them, it was long, so long, as though she had not cut it in centuries. “Was that necessary?”
Eris grinned up at her from his place splayed out along her pillows. “Sit.”
Cora glared at him, as though she simply would have left him there, to annoy him as much as to prove that her will was stronger than his own.
If it had been anyone else, Eris might have gotten up and left, to make a point that he did as he pleased and the faeries he dragged to his bed were merely a nice little distraction.
He was, after all, a prince.
Instead, he ran his hands up her thighs, feather light, before he repeated himself. “Sit.”
And Cora did.
Eris was used to the males and females of Autumn, vicious in court but shy when it came to their own pleasure. He knew it was because they were afraid, wisely so considering the reputation Eris had built for himself. He would thoroughly seduce them, bring them back to his chambers, and watch as they trembled, unsure, hands at their sides.
It had been fun at first, but Eris was dreadfully bored , and Cora was interesting. She knew exactly what to do with her hands, dragging curses and moans from Eris’s lips with nothing but a simple twist of her wrist. She was also absolutely gorgeous, her dark eyes haunting him so he could not have a moment’s peace.
He breathed in deeply, leaving a trail of kisses up the inside of her thigh. The dagger was still there, the metal cool against his cheek, and he licked just above the hilt with a long swipe of his tongue.
When his mouth brushed over the spot he knew would bring her the most pleasure, he paused, waiting for her permission. She shifted impatiently above him, and although she could not see him through the curtain of her skirts, Eris smiled.
He pressed the flat of his tongue against her, and he felt as her nails scratched at the skin of his scalp, as her fingers tangled into the auburn strands of his hair and she kept him in place. Eris decided he would have gladly spent the rest of his life between her thighs, he groaned at the taste, pressed her more fully to his mouth, tongue moving.
The one hand keeping her balanced, Eris spread her thighs further apart, inviting her to move if it would please her. His booted feet drew restlessly against the fur blankets, he wanted her to come on his mouth.
He wanted her.
Eris knew Cora was close as she clenched her thighs around him. He kept his hands on her, felt her muscles tense and he made a soft sound as she pulled away entirely.
There were skirts in his mouth, he realised, just as Cora’s knee roughly knocked into the side of his head, a short burst of pain shooting into his temple. She kicked him in the gut in her effort to move away and Eris grunted at the contact of her foot against him.
“The torches,” she breathed, her voice a whispered hiss.
Eris barely understood what she was saying, his mind a mess, desire making it hard for him to think straight. She was adjusting her skirts, fixing her sleeves.
“What about them?” Eris asked, eyes tracking her movements as he sat up. He licked his lips, fighting the urge to moan as he tasted her on his tongue.
“They did something strange,” she was content to ignore the burning gaze he cast on her, looking instead towards the doors and paying attention to the flames flickering rather normally on the other side of the small room.
“The fire reacts to me,” he said, a snarl entering his tone as he placed a broad hand on her small waist and pulled her towards him. His chest was rising and falling like he had been drowning and was drawing his first breath of air. “It reacts to me, reacting to you .”
She rolled her eyes, as though she did not believe a single word he said. She ran a cool finger under the fabric of his collar. “I worry someone might see us.”
“Don’t,” Eris mumbled as she deliberately began to undo the buttons of his waistcoat. She did so expertly, dragging it from his shoulders where it fell onto the mattress in a careless heap.
Through the lighter fabric of his shirt, Eris felt as Cora’s hand lingered on his back. Her nails caught on the raised skin there.
Lashes.
He had whispered the word to Cora when she had paused at the feel of them the first night he had gotten her into his bed. She had pulled away just enough to hold his gaze, had searched his face for answers but was met with the expressionless mask he had long ago mastered.
Punishments.
Cora had correctly guessed, he had witnessed the shift in her demeanour at the realisation, although she had said nothing. The lovers he took were usually Autumn born and raised, were usually well aware of the way the High Lord treated each of his sons. Still, Eris had felt as though Cora had become a bit more gentle, that she had held him like he was a piece of glass, easily breakable.
“Eris,” she said softly, pulling him from his thoughts as she placed a kiss just below his jaw only to tug the shirt from where he had carefully tucked it. Her fingers traced the muscles of his stomach as he cupped the back of her head to keep her close. When she reached the laces at his pants, undoing them swiftly, he felt his lips part as she touched him.
He wished she would say his name again, but he did not complain as she kissed him deeply, their tongues fighting for dominance as she wrapped delicate fingers around his length. His hands once again went under her skirts, fingers searching when he heard his best friend’s voice in the corridor.
“Lady Elain Archeron,” Lethe said loudly, the name echoing with a hint of magic. It was his request for her to keep watch, but Eris instantly regretted it.
Cora pushed herself away from him once more and Eris snarled his annoyance, wishing his little brother’s mate had retired for the evening.
“I told you the torches had done something strange,” Cora accused, tossing his waistcoat for him to catch. She stumbled on the edge of the carpet as she rushed to put on her shoes, cursing him under her breath.
Eris ran fingers through his hair to ensure that no strand was out of place, adjusting his clothes to perfection and using his magic to scatter the scent of their still burning arousal.
“Find me when she leaves,” Eris offered, hoping Cora would join him later. He would have hated to use his hand to find pleasure after their encounter. He unlocked the door, pausing with his fingers gripping the handle. Cora shuffled behind him, skirts ruffling, and he waited with bated breath for her response.
Cora walked towards him quickly, each action rushed so she could throw him out of her room before Elain arrived to knock on the door. She reached out, no hesitation in the gesture as she grabbed onto his arm. Eris watched as she got onto the very tips of her toes, following her lead when she pulled down on his sleeve. He had to bend at the waist, practically bowing for her, so that she could place the softest of kisses onto his cheek. “I make no promises,” she murmured, letting her fingers trail down towards his wrist, her thumb stroking the skin there absently before she moved away from him with a playful shove in the direction of the hallway.
Eris felt his entire face heat, and he bit the inside of his lip, frustrated with his uncommon lack of self control. He hoped Cora could not see the scarlet blush he was sure would reveal his slight attachment to her.
Eris could hardly remember the last time someone had been so gentle with him, could hardly remember needing anyone’s affection. He said nothing, was unable to face her, so he merely schooled his features into a serious mask.
Eris opened the oak door roughly and stepped past the stone archway, mind whirling with thoughts of Cora, only to crash bodily into Elain Archeron.
Notes:
i hope you guys liked this one <3 thank you to those who are reading!!!
Chapter 24: Part XXIII
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Unlike the oracles of Day, the witches in Autumn have been known to prompt visions of the future using herbs easily found within the forest…
Elain felt her heart thudding against her chest, almost painfully. She tracked the following lines with her fingers. The aged ink was rough on her skin. She had to hold back a grin, growing increasingly more pleased with the information she had found.
Jewelweed.
Primrose.
Oak leaves.
Elain whispered the name of each plant, committing them to memory.
Her first instinct was to tell Lucien, to have him know as soon as she did that she had finally stumbled across information that seemed useful.
They had been searching the library with Cora’s help, carefully going through each book case, reading the titles on every shelf. Elain could hardly remember how many chapters she had read, and how many pages she had flipped through. Words had begun to melt together, and she much preferred to spend her spare time learning a little bit more about her mate.
Lucien was with his mother, though, and in the silence of their shared chambers, Elain remembered his warning. She needed to become more familiar with her abilities. The thought was enough of a push to get her started on one of the larger and more intimidating books she had thrown onto the coffee table.
Aster.
Sugar maple.
Hemlock.
Elain skimmed over each word on the list one final time, deciding she would instead go and find Cora. She had last seen the other woman with the High Lord’s wife, going over floral arrangements for the wedding. Cora seemed to enjoy all of the planning, and while Elain had initially been resistant to giving her opinion on the reception, she could admit there was a part of her that was secretly looking forward to seeing it all come together.
Elain had to remind herself she was not actually marrying Lucien, not in any real sense.
She quickly wrote a note on a piece of paper Lucien had already used to jot information he planned to further look into. Placing the side with her looping scrawl onto his pillow, Elain took a moment to straighten her skirts and slip on her shoes. She had told Lucien that she would simply stay in their rooms, but her mind was whirling with thoughts.
While those in Autumn refer to themselves as witches, they are more commonly referred to as seers across Prythian and in most of the regions on the continent…
Elain tucked the heavy book close to her chest as she walked into the corridor, slamming the carved door shut behind her using her foot. She blew a stray curl away from her eyes, hoping that Cora had returned to her room but had not yet gone to sleep.
The Forest House was always a little more quiet in the evenings, and Elain liked walking the torchlit halls better when there were less people around. She had not been expecting to see anyone, especially since Cora’s room was not really too far from her own.
As Elain spotted Callum slowly approaching, she inched ever so slightly closer to the stone wall, hiding the title of the book with her arms. She smiled but chose not to wave, maintaining her friendly expression as he came closer.
Unlike Felix and Ronan, who tended to holler her name and flash her viper-like grins, Callum was usually content to ignore her presence. He seemed very serious on most occasions, and while Lucien insisted he cared very little for his brothers, her mate always seemed to have good things to say about this one.
“Lady,” Callum said in greeting, his rough voice ringing in the empty hall. He bowed his head, the short strands of his hair looking like copper coins in the light of the flickering torches.
Elain was a bit surprised that he had addressed her at all, but she had become very talented when it came to hiding her emotions. She mirrored him, tilting her chin down politely in a practiced gesture. “Good evening.”
Instead of continuing on his way, Callum slowed down. Elain watched as he awkwardly adjusted his dark jacket, as he cleared his throat. “Looking for Eris?”
Elain shook her head, not entirely certain why he was interested, but she saw no harm in telling him the truth. “I’m going to see Cora,” the book she was holding felt heavy in her hands and she adjusted her hold on the ancient object. “My lady’s maid,” she added to clarify, thinking that perhaps he would not recognise the name.
Elain saw as Callum scrunched his nose, familiar. It was almost as though she was looking at Lucien whenever he heard something he did not particularly like. He quickly replaced the expression with a tight lipped smile. “Have a nice night.”
“You as well,” Elain offered, but Callum had already turned his back on her. She had to fight a frown, trying her absolute best to convince herself that he was simply in a hurry. The torches in the corridor flared brightly, shocking Elain into releasing a little yelp. Before she continued walking towards Cora’s room, she cast a glance around her to ensure no one else had witnessed her small moment of embarrassment.
Elain decided that she would not dwell on the interaction with Lucien’s older brother, balancing the book in one hand as she reached for her skirts. She skipped steps as she went down a flight of stairs, turning a sharp corner and finding herself face to face with Lethe.
If Elain had given it a moment’s thought, she would have assumed that the Autumn Court noble was blocking her path. She was not entirely fond of the other woman, but she smiled despite it, eager to maintain a level of peace between them. Elain remembered the way that Lethe had danced with Lucien during their first few nights at the Forest House, jealousy a wild beast within her, but she swallowed the feeling away.
“Good evening, Lethe.” Elain said, keeping the slight annoyance from her tone, choosing to ignore her title.
The smile she received in return was vicious, embers dancing in her eyes. Elain tried her best to just move past her, but Lethe blocked her path again in a flurry of black skirts. Elain noticed, for the first time, how pale the other woman was. It gave Lethe an eerie appearance, even if Elain could admit that she was lovely.
“Lady Elain Archeron,” she responded, her brown hair styled in a braid that made it look as though she were wearing a crown.
“Can I help you?” Elain asked, losing whatever patience she had for the creature in front of her. She remembered her manners, tilting her head to the side as if she were genuinely curious.
Lethe shrugged, the movement elegant, like a dancer. She looked Elain up and down, her eyes falling to the book. With a small frown, she spoke. “How kind of you to ask, but no.”
Elain attempted to move past Lethe one final time, but as she was blocked once more, her urge to groan grew significantly. Nose in the air and trying her best to imitate the Lady of Autumn, Elain’s tone was serious. “I’d like to get by,” she said, making it very clear that she was in no mood for courtly games.
Lethe hummed, “I suppose you can pass.” She shifted out of the way, leaving a very small space for Elain to squeeze through. She looked at the nails of her hand in a gesture obviously meant as a slight. Dark brows raised, Lethe asked a final question, the words a seductive drawl. “Have I been distracting?”
While Elain could detect the amusement in her tone, she had no idea what Lethe might be referring to. Ignoring the courtier, Elain moved around her, using all of her self control not to shoot her a frustrated glare. She could not help mumbling an annoyed “unfortunately” under her breath as soon as she was sure that Lethe would not be able to hear her.
Elain quickened her steps, she had had enough interactions for the night and she really only wanted to speak with Cora. She held onto the book in her hands tightly, hoping that neither Callum or Lethe had seen the title or recognised the spine.
As soon as she found herself in front of the thick door leading into Cora’s room, Elain felt as her shoulders dropped in relief. She had not even noticed that she was tense, but she was glad at the very least that Cora’s presence was always enough to ease her nerves.
Elain raised her hand, fingers closed into a fist, ready to knock on the aged wood. Before Elain could do so, the door opened suddenly, Eris marching through the arch of stone in a blur of red hair and white shirtsleeves.
Elain lost her breath as the heir to the Autumn Court crashed into her much smaller frame. She dropped the book as she collided into him, but Eris snapped out his hands, catching her before she could stumble. Her nose was pressed uncomfortably against his chest and she had loose curls of her own hair stuck between her teeth.
Elain looked up, ready to make her displeasure clear, and to perhaps even bother Eris a little bit, but a wave of foreboding went over her. She felt unwell, like the stone floor had given way beneath her feet.
Elain heard as Eris said her name, but it was a faraway sound, as though he were speaking underwater. She could still feel the grip he had on her arms, gentle. Golden eyes flashed brightly as Elain gasped, air pulled from her lungs. She was shocked at how easily her body went limp, at the feeling of her muscles losing their ability to keep her upright.
Elain tried to ask Eris for help, but the world was a blur, and as everything snapped back into focus, she was no longer in the Forest House.
There was a dagger made of gold in Elain’s hands. She held the weapon carefully, the blade flashing in the light of the setting sun. Elain let her finger drag along the edge.
Rose petals, dark as blood, fell against a leaf strewn path. Elain took a small step, twigs snapping like fragile bones beneath her bare feet.
A wolf howled somewhere in the distance, and agony ripped through Elain’s chest. The sound echoed in her ears, sharp and loud.
Over and over, again and again, the wolf howled.
Elain dropped the dagger, put her hands over her ears, and clenched her eyes shut.
All she could see was unending darkness.
Elain woke up slowly, pins and needles traveling up her legs uncomfortably. She shifted, placing her fingers against her temple in an effort to steady herself. As her eyes fluttered open, the room stopped its spinning, everything returning back to normal.
Elain wanted Lucien, but she instead found herself with Eris.
He would have carried her, she decided. Eris had placed her carefully on a small bed, the skirts of her dress trailing off of the mattress and onto the carpeted floors. The room came into focus, the flames in the fireplace were stoked to brightness and shadows fell across the walls.
Elain blinked just as Eris leaned over her. Worry lined his expression, a frown pulling at his lips, but his voice sounded angry as he spoke. “What was that?”
Elain took a moment to respond, choosing instead to sit up. Eris helped her lean against the headboard, offering her his hand so she could scoot along the covers. She looked around Cora’s room, taking in the familiar and neat surroundings.
Elain’s eyes fell to the small sketchbook on the nightstand, where a lovely drawing of a hound was on the open page. She breathed in deeply to ground herself and to gather her thoughts, keeping her gaze pointedly away from Eris. Mixed with Cora’s scent of mountain air and spruce trees lingered the smell of apple orchards and campfires, distinctly Autumn. If Elain were less worried about what Eris would have said about her visions, she might have asked him why the pillows smelled like his jacket.
“Elain, what was that?” He repeated, dragging fingers through his hair. He said it softly, encouraging her to speak freely.
Elain frowned, finally meeting his eyes. “I had a dizzy spell,” she blushed, hoping Eris would believe her lie.
“That’s a human ailment.” He replied, waving her comment off with a dismissive flick of his wrist. The worry was slowly leaving his features, his brows furrowing slightly in thought. Elain watched his eyes sharpen with a calculating edge, and could practically sense the way he was going over the events leading up to her vision.
Even worse, Elain could feel as the level of trust carefully built between them began to crack, on the verge of shattering completely.
Eris watched her, tracking each small movement with a predator’s precision. Elain sighed, knowing Lucien would not like the idea she was contemplating. Her resolve broke entirely as Eris raised an auburn eyebrow.
“Eris,” she began, licking her lips and remembering who exactly Eris was. He was known for being awful and cruel, Lucien had accused him on multiple occasions of being selfish and manipulative, her entire family hated him with a passion. Elain placed a hand on his arm, overstepping perhaps in a way, but he did not flinch from the pleading look she cast him. “Eris, I need your word.”
He held her stare, tilting his head. Flames flashed in his eyes as he nodded. “You have it.”
Elain knew he could very well be lying, that Eris could simply turn around and share what he learned with his father, but she somehow knew that would not be the case. A memory flashed in her mind, one from years before, Cassian mentioning how Beron had tortured his own son, a frown on his usually smiling face.
“You can’t tell a soul,” she said softly, but she tightened the hold she had on his arm.
“You have my word, Elain Archeron,” Eris smiled, his promise cutting the tension in the room. Unlike his fleeting amusement, the genuine emotion transformed his sharp features until he became a softer male. The torches flared around them in response. “I do love a good secret.”
And so Elain told Eris Vanserra, prince of Autumn, one of the Night Court’s most well kept ones.
Notes:
i am a huge believer in the elain and eris friendship!!! thank you for reading <3
Chapter 25: Part XXIV
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Lucien watched his mother carefully.
The Lady of Autumn was leaning forward in the comfortable armchair opposite his own, emerald skirts flaring around the cushioned seat, a river of fabric along the stone floors. Her auburn hair fell in loose curls to her waist, held away from her face with golden clips fashioned to look like oak leaves.
She hummed softly, the rubies on each of her fingers flashing in the light of the dancing flames within the fireplace. Her hand hovered above the chess pieces, pausing over the black rook.
Lucien bit the inside of his cheek as his mother took another of his pawns. She raised a brow at him in challenge, sparks in her russet eyes.
Lucien huffed a sigh, staring at the red and black board, at all of the remaining pieces on each of their little squares. He crossed both his arms, considering. “You’re really quite good at this,” he mumbled. Lucien decided that both Eris and Callum were going easy on him, perhaps throwing games on purpose. He would have to ask them to stop, he thought.
The Lady of Autumn laughed, the sound soft as it fell from her lips. She smiled at her youngest son in a way she did not at the rest of her children — unguarded. It always managed to make Lucien feel special. “When you’re as old as I am, I suspect you’ll be just as good.”
Lucien wondered how many years it would take to reach his mother’s age. At just over half a decade, he wanted to know how much more chess he would need to play. He moved one of his pieces, wincing as he saw the easy opening to his king.
The High Lord’s wife clicked her tongue, reaching across the coffee table to ruffle Lucien’s hair. Everything about the gesture was tender, and Lucien leaned into the touch. “Little sunbeam,” she started, a small smile on her youthful face, “you know I don’t play to lose.”
Lucien guessed he was about the age his mother had been at the time of his memory, and while he had changed much since then, the Lady of Autumn remained the same.
She held onto his arm gently, long fingers pale against the brown velvet of his jacket. They were walking back to his and Elain’s shared chambers, and while Lucien was glad to be spending time with his mother, he hated leaving his mate alone for too long. The sound of their combined steps were loud in the empty hallway, soft echoes ringing around them as she spoke about the wedding.
Lucien could hear the excitement in her tone as she told him about the decorations and the food they planned to serve. Cora had been helping with the floral arrangements, and his mother seemed to be quite fond of the Night Court female. The Lady of Autumn thrived at organising court events, and she was very pleased to have been given so much freedom when it came to the reception. Lucien could not help but feel a bit guilty that she did not know the truth of it all, but he did not want to upset her, or risk his father finding out.
“Elain will be having her dress fitting tomorrow as well,” his mother continued. “And she insists on keeping you far away, you know, since she was a human, of course.”
Lucien had no idea what tradition she was referring to, and briefly wished Jurian and Vassa were both there to help him. He had sent them a few letters, and had received no response. He guessed correspondence was simply being controlled by Ronan’s sentries, and while he was frustrated with the fact, he had come to accept it. He nodded absently, still wondering what human customs Elain had been adding to the wedding ceremony, barely listening as his mother began to recite a list of those who had not yet accepted their invitation.
Lucien would ask Elain about it when they were alone. He found her easy to talk to, and he hoped she felt the same. He wanted his mate to share more about her life, both before and after she had been made fae. There was still so much about her that he wanted to learn, could spend a lifetime learning.
Little sunbeam.
Lucien remembered the childhood nickname, and yet he was unsure when it might have been the last time he had heard it. Eris used to scowl whenever it was uttered, despite how much affection was usually hidden beneath the words. He almost winced as his mother said it flippantly, realising she had asked him a question and was waiting for an answer.
Lucien cleared his throat, patting his mother’s hand apologetically. “I wasn’t paying attention,” he cringed, adding a quick “sorry.”
The Lady of Autumn raised an auburn brow, the expression all too familiar. “Thinking about your mate?”
Lucien sighed, offering his mother a sheepish smile. “Always.”
She pulled him to a stop. Her brows knit together, her eyes going over him, searching. She held his gaze for a moment, pausing at his scar. His mother reached for him, hand resting on his cheek as her lips tilted up slightly. “I’m very happy for you.”
The pride he heard in her voice was enough to make Lucien emotional. He would have pulled her in for a hug had he not spotted Cora rushing towards them. Elain’s friend seemed to have appeared out of thin air, her footsteps silent as she held her skirts in her hands. Her long hair was like a flag, dark and loose as she approached.
Lucien frowned as he noticed the tightness around Cora’s mouth, at the tenseness of her shoulders. Unease washed over him, and his mother turned around as she sensed it.
“Lucien,” Cora said, slowing down to quickly curtsy at the Lady of the Autumn Court. “Lucien, if you could come with me?” Beneath the veneer of her polite and courtly attitude, was concern.
Lucien took long steps towards her, his heartbeat racing as worse case scenarios flashed into his mind. “What’s happened?” The female’s dark eyes flicked briefly to his mother and he redirected her attention. “Cora?”
Her explanation was hurried and his mother watched with interest as she shared how Elain had crashed into Eris roughly. As soon as Lucien heard his brother’s name, all he could see was red. “Is she hurt?” He snarled, quickly losing all of his patience.
“She hit her head on the doorframe and fainted,” Cora winced, glancing at the stone arch next to them. “She’s resting in my room, with the prince watching over her.”
Lucien had not felt anything along the mating bond, and he could not understand why. He should have known if something was wrong .
“It must be the stress of the wedding, Lucien,” his mother reassured. She placed a soft hand on his back, the action grounding him as the bond urged him to run to Elain and protect her from all harm. “I’ll have someone send coffee to your rooms,” she continued, pushing him lightly in Cora’s direction.
Cora grabbed onto his sleeve, winnowing them both seamlessly to a different part of the Forest House. Lucien had not known she was capable of such magic, but he was too consumed with thoughts of his mate.
“What did Eris do?” He asked, voice low and accusing. Cora gripped his jacket tightly and dragged him towards the stairs that led to a different floor. “I swear if he—”
Cora interrupted him swiftly. “He did nothing but bump into Elain.” Lucien let her continue, frown deepening as he considered her statement. “She should’ve been fine, anyone else would have been.”
Lucien was becoming increasingly frustrated and confused. “Cora, please tell me what happened.”
“For a moment she was fine, I saw her, ready to give Eris a piece of her mind.” The lady’s maid bit her lip, shaking her head as she forced Lucien to turn a corner. “And then there was wind in a room with no windows, all of the torches went out, and Elain…” Her words trailed off.
Lucien felt panic choke him, “What about Elain?”
Cora ran a hand through her hair, fingers getting caught in the strands. “Elain’s eyes rolled back until only the whites could be seen, I swear they were glowing, pale as moonlight.”
Lucien swore under his breath.
Cora shook her head again. “She would have fallen if Eris hadn’t not caught her. He carried her to my bed with her eyes still open, I’d never seen anything like it.”
Lucien finally understood why the bond between them had stayed silent. If it was simply a result of Elain’s magic, she would be completely fine. He glanced at the female still pulling him along, wondering how much information Elain had revealed about her visions and abilities. Cora had been looking for books on deciphering dreams with them, but he was still not entirely sure if she knew why.
“It’s nothing,” Lucien said quickly, hoping Cora would not question him.
She raised her brow, daring him to repeat himself. “I know what it is,” she declared, waving him off as he opened his mouth to respond. “Don’t bother lying again,” Cora stopped in front of the carved wooden door leading into her room. She shoved it open, and Lucien slipped past her to enter.
Lucien did not know what he had been expecting, but it certainly had not been to see a very alright looking Elain chatting with his brother. He paused at the sight, shocked to see his mate sitting cross legged on the bed, skirts fanning around her. There was a glass of water in her hands, and they were steady as she held it in front of her chest. Despite looking slightly dishevelled, her hair falling from its pins and her dress wrinkled, she looked perfectly fine.
Lucien halted to a sudden stop in the centre of the small space. Elain’s entire body relaxed, a lovely smile gracing her features as her eyes fell onto him. She said his name, and through the bridge between their souls, he knew she was glad to see him. He mirrored her expression, forgetting that others were there entirely.
Eris cleared his throat, the sound breaking the silence. He stood up from his chair, patting the bed once. “Hello, little brother.”
Lucien had to fight back a snarl at the taunt in his tone. “You don’t watch where you’re going?” There was still a small part of him that blamed his carelessness for Elain’s current position.
Eris shrugged, eyes falling to Cora where she still stood by the door. He raised a brow as he turned his attention to Elain. “She’s so very small I suppose I didn’t notice her.” Elain’s mouth fell open in mock offence, but her gaze was still on Lucien.
He decided Eris was not worth his time, especially when all he wanted to do was take Elain back to their chambers so they could be alone. “You alright?”
Elain nodded, placing her bare feet onto the floor. “I am, thank you.” She kicked at her slippers, putting them on as a blush rose to her cheeks. “Thank you for coming so quickly, I mean,” she added, breathing a small laugh.
Lucien offered Elain his hand, and when she held onto him, she flashed a grateful smile. She stood up shakily, losing her balance. Lucien wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her. “Need me to carry you?” He was only half joking.
Elain leaned into his side, lacing her fingers with his own. “I think I’ll be alright.”
“Take it easy, Elain,” Cora said, walking up to them so she could rub a friendly hand on his mate’s shoulder.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Elain told both her and Eris. Lucien could only guess how worried they had been witnessing the vision.
They left and Cora shut the door with Eris still inside her room. Lucien frowned, knowing his brother would question the female and hoping she would be able to hold her own against him. He was quite confident Cora would do just fine, but a part of him was troubled when he thought about Eris knowing Elain was a seer.
Lucien turned his attention to his mate, searching for any hint that she might not be alright. He tugged on the bond to check, and she tightened her hold on him. He chose not to winnow, deciding it was best if she was still a little unsteady. They walked in comfortable silence back to their chambers. Like his mother had promised, there was a tray with coffee, sugar, and cream on the table by the sofa.
As soon as the door closed behind them and Lucien checked to ensure the wards were in place, he spoke. “You had a vision?”
Elain nodded as he helped her to the couch. He added a teaspoon of sugar to her coffee, stirring as she ran a hand through her curls. “I didn’t like it.”
Lucien handed her the mug, sitting next to her. She described her vision — the golden knife, the rose petals, and the howling wolf. Lucien agreed that it did not sound very good, but he did not know what it meant any more than she did.
“You were right,” Elain added. “Holding back the visions isn’t working, and this one was stronger than the others.”
Lucien rubbed a hand over his face. “I’ll handle Eris, he won’t believe a thing we say unless it’s the truth.” Perhaps it was his place as the eldest brother that made him very good at sensing nonsense. He knew from experience that Eris would not let it go if he suspected something was being hidden from him.
Elain blew a stray curl from where it had fallen over her eyes, setting her mug next to the one Lucien still had yet to touch. “I told him.”
“You told him?” Lucien felt like the stars had fallen out of the sky. He took a moment to spin the words in his mind, swallowing as he stared at a very calm Elain. “You told Eris about your visions?” He could barely believe it, hoping that she was making a joke.
“It’s alright, Lucien,” she said seriously, placing a hand on his thigh. She inched closer so that their shoulders were touching. “I tried lying, but,” she shrugged, “he’s going to help, and I already made him swear not to tell anyone.”
Lucien coughed, trying his best not to show Elain how anxious it made him that Eris knew. “What, exactly, did you tell him?”
Elain looked up into his face, her dark brown eyes bright in the light of the flickering fireplace. “Everything. I told him about the Cauldron, and its gift to me, and my visions during the war.”
Eris could not be trusted, it was something Lucien had strongly believed for centuries. He could already imagine Eris spinning this situation to suit him. “Elain,” he sighed, “I don’t know…”
She smiled and he paused. “ I know.” Elain looked so confident, he could hardly argue. “And he’s so old, I’m sure Eris knows more about seers than the two of us combined,” she added, squeezing his leg.
“Alright.” Lucien returned her smile, taking a loose curl and tucking it behind her pointed ear. “I trust you,” he murmured, the pull of the bond magnetic. He leaned towards her, and she did the same, eyes fluttering shut.
Elain brushed her lips against his, her hands rising up to grip the lapels of his jacket. Drawing him closer, she relaxed into his touch. Lucien kissed her more fully, cupping her head while tracing the smooth skin of her cheekbone with his thumb.
Elain’s full lips parted beneath his, tongue slipping past them to ease a small sigh from the back of her throat. Lucien attempted to slowly move away, but she followed him, breaking their kiss to throw her arms around his neck in a tight hug.
“I trust you, too,” Elain said softly, holding Lucien close.
Notes:
thank you for reading <3
Chapter 26: Part XXV
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Elain placed a hand on Lucien’s broad chest, stopping him right outside the carved oak door of the fitting room. The fabric of his brocade waistcoat was thick, but she could still feel the warmth of his skin on her palm.
Elain knew she was blushing at the way his muscles tensed beneath her fingers. She wished for a moment that he was shirtless, the image flashing in her mind briefly before she shook her head to push the wildly inappropriate thought to the side.
Lucien raised an auburn brow, amusement bright in his russet eye. His golden one whirred softly, the sound so familiar to Elain that she barely noticed. “I can’t even see the dress when you’re not in it?”
Elain pressed her lips together, fighting a smile. “Sorry,” she said, “not even then.” She pulled her hand away from him, still blocking his path with her body. She knew the fae did not have the same wedding traditions, but she was not about to test fate by ignoring this one.
Lucien hummed softly, nodding. “You’re that superstitious?” He asked, no judgement in the question, just simple curiosity.
“It’s bad luck,” Elain explained, chin tilted so she could look up at her mate.She traced the sharp curve of his jaw with her gaze. “I’m very determined to have a nice reception.”
He smiled, an endearing dimple appearing on his unscarred cheek. Lucien leaned towards her, the action seemed almost involuntary. “Any other traditions I should know about?”
“That’s the only one,” Elain reassured. She did not mention how most newly married couples in the human realm chose to have rice thrown at them, deciding that perhaps it was something the Autumn Court guests would not appreciate. She was having a hard time picturing Lucien’s brothers tossing grains of rice at anyone, let alone herself. “Now go, I’m already late, your mother and the seamstress were expecting me right after breakfast.”
Lucien licked his full bottom lip, and Elain found herself tracking the movement. He inched closer, hesitant, but his intentions were clear. She was drawn to him, like a moth to flame, the bond urging her onto the tips of her toes.
When their faces were a hair’s breadth apart, Lucien spoke, his voice soft. “I’m sure they can wait a minute longer.”
Elain responded by pressing her mouth to his. With her eyes shut, she could conjure the illusion of privacy, could forget entirely that they were in a corridor where anyone might happen to walk by.
Elain could not be bothered to care. Each stroke of Lucien’s tongue had her biting back a moan, and when he cupped the back of her head, heat pooled low in her gut.
Elain braced her arm against the door.
She could have spent an eternity with Lucien, his touch unbelievably gentle as their kiss deepened. Elain was dizzy with desire, his scent enveloping her, as comforting as any embrace. His canines grazed the skin of her lip, pulling a whimper from deep within her chest.
Lucien broke their kiss at the sound, and Elain’s eyes snapped open. She glanced around them to make sure no one was walking towards them, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear simply to do something with her hand. It took all of her self control not to grab Lucien by the collar and pull him to her once more.
“Have fun at your fitting,” he said, his voice a breathless rasp. Before Elain could protest him leaving, he pressed a featherlight kiss to her cheek, turning on his heel elegantly.
Elain fell against the door, the wood rough through the fabric of her dress. Her knees were weak and she needed the support to keep her steady in Lucien’s absence. She stared at his back, absently bringing her thumb up to her lips. She traced their shape, breaking into a smile as her mate turned around for one last glance. Elain waved as he winnowed, the hallway filling with the golden light of his magic.
She stayed there for a moment, hearing the Lady of Autumn’s laughter coming from the room behind her.
Elain did not know how she would manage to get through the rest of the morning if Lucien was on her mind, but as time passed, she was able to focus on what was happening around her.
Callista had ushered Elain in front of a floor length mirror. It was still difficult for her to refer to Lucien’s mother using her name, but the High Lord’s wife had insisted. With the help of Cora, the seamstress, and her young apprentice, Elain was helped into her wedding gown.
The dress was stunning, beyond lovely, and more beautiful than any other clothing she had ever seen. Even incomplete, Elain knew that the final product would capture everyone’s attention.
The bodice was a shining gold fabric, intricate laces in the back tied tightly but not uncomfortably. The sleeves were made of the same material, countless shimmering beads adding sparkle along her wrists. Like Elain had suggested, the long tulle skirts flared around her, highlighting the shape of her figure. Leaves cut from thin sheets of actual gold had been added in a careful pattern onto the gown, and when Elain moved, it looked like they were falling in a gentle wind. In a thoughtful nod to her past life, Cora had managed to convince the seamstress and the Lady of Autumn to keep the long train of the dress free of any colour and entirely white.
The dress was perfect. Elain found herself unable to tear her gaze away from the mirror as the final details were added and the last few adjustments were made.
Elain had just gotten back into her everyday clothes when there was a knock at the door. Cora rolled her eyes before Eris’s deep voice travelled through the thick wood separating him from them. “Elain?”
Callista walked to the other side of the room, placing her fingers onto the handle. She raised a brow in question at Elain, who nodded. As the door swung open, Eris grinned in amusement. There were flames in his amber eyes as he spoke. “Why are you torturing my brother?”
Elain snorted, forgetting for a moment that there were others present. She waved him into the room, inviting him to come closer. The seamstress and her apprentice slipped through the slim opening, shutting the door behind them quietly. “What makes you say that?”
Eris shrugged, but he looked entirely too pleased with himself, like a cat that had caught a mouse. “He seemed a bit…on edge, I suppose.”
Elain felt herself blush, muttering under her breath. “That’s ridiculous.”
Eris cast a look around the room, gaze falling onto the nearly finished wedding gown. “Ready to be married?”
Three more days.
Elain could hardly believe it. To her, it was like she had arrived at the Autumn Court a lifetime ago.
She nodded, hoping that she looked confident in front of Lucien’s mother. “I think we’ve planned everything.”
“There is just one more detail,” Callista’s soft voice was commanding, drawing everyone’s attention. “If you could choose someone to walk you down the aisle, it can be anyone you like.”
Elain paused, furrowing her brow. She considered the human tradition, where only parents were part of the ceremony in such a way. Perhaps her sisters, Elain thought. “Just one?”
“Traditionally,” Callista said with a smile. “Anyone will do.”
Elain was not going to choose between Nesta and Feyre. Besides, she did not think it would be entirely appreciated by Beron to have another court’s High Lady walk her down the aisle. She looked to Cora, her constant support since they had left Velaris. Her friend made a horrified expression in response, one that made her opinion on the matter dreadfully clear.
Elain had to hold back a laugh, offering Cora an understanding smile. She could have guessed that the other woman would not have been too keen on such active participation in the ceremony, since she preferred staying out of the spotlight.
“Eris?” Elain’s decision had been made, and she sincerely doubted he would deny her wish. It was for the best to have the Autumn Court’s heir do this one thing for her, especially since she was entirely certain Beron would approve of it.
Eris had been looking at Cora, humming distractedly as he faced Elain.
“Eris, you’ll walk me down the aisle, won’t you?” Her question hung in the air, and she could practically see him turning it over in his mind.
He waved a hand in a gesture Elain could only describe as lazy. “Whatever you like,” he said flippantly, eyes flicking to his mother as he bent at the waist in the smallest of bows. “How can I refuse my only sister?” There was no usual bite to the words, only affection.
Before any of the women could say anything more on the subject, Eris had winnowed from the room, embers falling to the carpeted ground. Shortly after the prince had left, Elain and Cora followed.
Callista had encouraged her to spend the next couple of days relaxing and spending time with Lucien, which Elain was more than happy to do. Cora and her walked in comfortable silence back to their chambers, and when no one was around, Elain knocked her shoulder against her friend.
“You didn’t want to walk me down the aisle?” She asked jokingly, surprised by the frown that fell over Cora’s features.
“I didn’t think it was fair,” she said quietly, tugging on her braid in a gesture Elain had come to realise meant that Cora was feeling uneasy.
Elain pulled her to a stop, holding onto her elbow right at the foot of a staircase, making sure no one else was near. “Why would you think—”
“I’m not a lady’s maid,” Cora interrupted, her words seemingly pulled from her as she blurted the statement quickly. The outburst seemed to have shocked them both. Cora’s dark eyes were wide, scarlet staining her light brown cheeks.
Elain paused, looking over the other woman carefully. She considered the little information she knew about her friend’s life and could only come to one conclusion. “A guard?”
Cora glanced nervously down the hall, releasing a long sigh as she pulled Elain into the shelter of the staircase. “Not a guard,” she admitted, a glamour falling into place so that no one else might accidentally hear. “A spy.”
It made sense, Elain could admit.
She took the time to go over some of the more obvious clues, hindsight making everything more clear. Understanding Cora would have no reason to lie, but still wanting to have a better grasp of the truth, Elain paused. If Nuala and Cerridwen had come to Autumn, they would have been doing the same. She had probably remained in the dark for her own protection, but the ever familiar frustration at being excluded in important matters washed over her for a moment.
Cora was good with weapons, could sneak around anywhere, and was an expert at researching. She always knew what every member of the Vanserra family was doing, a fact that Elain had blamed on gossip between the workers in the Forest House.
A memory flashed in her mind of the first time she had been introduced to the woman who would act as her lady’s maid — Cora glancing towards Azriel, almost as though she had been searching his expression for cues on how to behave.
Elain took a breath, nodding. “Who were you sent to spy on?” She asked, wanting to understand. Her first guess was Lucien, since the Inner Circle – excluding Feyre – seemed to distrust him wholeheartedly.
“Not you,” Cora rushed to clarify, hands held in front of her placatingly. “And I’m not supposed to say, Az will kill me if he finds out, but I just…” She shrugged, looking at Elain with an apologetic expression. “I hate keeping things from my friends.”
The words hung between them, easy for Elain to reject. Even given the chance, she decided she rather liked having Cora as a friend. She raised a brow, offering the other woman a small smile. “So then who are you spying on?”
Cora was quick to answer. “A certain prince, just in case he’s planning to use you for some nefarious plot.” Cora laughed awkwardly, “highly unlikely, by the way.”
Elain could have sighed in relief, glad she had at least been right to trust Eris with the knowledge of her visions. She began to walk up the stairs, Cora following after her eagerly. “Are you really from the Hewn City?”
Although she was unable to see the other woman, Elain knew Cora was nodding. “That wasn’t a lie,” she assured. “Everything I told you about myself was true if you ignore what I do for a living.”
“And what is that?” Elain turned to look at her, skirts clasped tightly in her hands as they marched up the last few steps.
Cora wrinkled her nose in distaste. “The High Lord has me gathering information on Kier and his supporters. Very boring, nothing’s changed in over three centuries.” She smiled, the expression suggesting she did not mind revealing a bit more about herself. “The last two weeks have been very exciting for me,” she finished.
Elain barked an inelegant laugh. “I’m so glad you’re enjoying yourself,” she clipped, wanting to know more about Cora and correctly guessing she would share out of feeling a bit guilty. “Rhysand sent you?” She confirmed, continuing only once there was a nod in agreement. “I was expecting one of the twins to come, I know Az sends them everywhere.”
“I look High Fae,” Cora said with a shrug. Elain’s eyes flicked to her friend’s pointed ears briefly before her attention was once more on the conversation. “And my mother was a lady’s maid before she met my father.”
“Was she Illyrian?” Elain asked, noting the obvious lack of wings on Cora’s part. She shuddered, remembering how Feyre had almost died giving birth to Nyx, wondering why Cora was not born the same.
She shook her head. “My father was part Illyrian and acted as an emissary between the Court of Nightmares and the cities in Illyria, hardly matters since she stopped working once they married.” Cora cringed, ”I may or may not have let the High Lord and Azriel believe I knew what would be expected from a female in this position.” She offered an embarrassed smile, one that Elain returned. “Not one of my finer decisions,” she admitted.
Elain had been so interested in what Cora had been saying that she had not realised they had returned to her and Lucien’s shared chambers until they were standing right outside the doors.
“I’m glad you lied about your qualifications,” Elain placed a gentle hand on Cora’s arm, squeezing affectionately. “But I’m going to have to tell Lucien.”
“Make sure he doesn’t share the news,” she laughed, sighing. “I should have told you sooner,” she replied, her regret a heavy thing. “I’m sorry, Elain.”
At the genuine apology, Elain could not help but pull Cora into a hug. Despite being stiff in surprise initially, the spy returned the embrace. “Thank you for telling me now.”
Once Cora had left to return to her own room, Elain waited a moment outside. She did not like the Night Court’s secrecy and had resented for years the way they all seemed content to shelter her.
Lucien would never.
The thought came to her suddenly, quick as a shooting star and gone before she could take the time to truly consider it. She pushed the door open, nearly stumbling as she threw herself into the familiar space.
Lucien looked up from the ancient and worn book he was reading from. There were two neat piles from the library on either side of the coffee table, a steaming mug balancing precariously on the edge of the wooden surface. His hair was tied away from his handsome face, loose strands falling to his broad shoulders. Elain’s attention was instantly drawn to the way he had rolled up his shirtsleeves, the veins on his forearms forcing her to hold back a swoon.
He smiled as she shut the door behind her. “Did you have a nice time?”
Elain could imagine her future so clearly, even without being a seer. Coming home after a busy morning only to find her mate sitting comfortably on the sofa, waiting for her arrival. Lucien listened to the things she had to say, constantly encouraging her to do as she liked. He never doubted her abilities, he was confident in her decisions.
My mate.
“Do you want to hear something interesting?” Elain asked, watching as he snapped his book shut.
Lucien patted once on the cushion next to him, the gesture inviting as he replied. “Always.”
Notes:
i am always so close to abandoning this fic but my need to get to the elucien wedding is stronger than my desire to leave this unfinished LOL also shoutout to the lovely reader on tumblr who correctly guessed cora was a spy about 20 chapters ago!!! thank you for reading <3
Chapter 27: Part XXVI
Notes:
i participated in eris week and wrote a little one shot of eris and cora ;) if anyone is interested in reading that, it’s chapter 7 of my fic ‘light the fire bright’
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Lucien could barely hold back his smile.
Elain was close to his side, pressed against him so that only her skirts were between them. Her one hand was holding onto his own, their fingers linked together and inseparable, while the other was clutching his arm comfortably. She was telling him about Nesta and Feyre, how the two always argued because they were so similar. There was a sparkle in her brown eyes, a brightness that only came when she spoke about those who she loved.
Beautiful.
Lucien found his mate particularly stunning when she was unworried and at ease. Loose curls escaped the confines of her braid, and he had to fight the urge to hook the strands of hair behind her pointed ears.
“Do you think that’s why you and Eris don’t get along?” She asked innocently, genuine curiosity clear as she tilted her chin to look up at him. “You’re too much alike?”
Lucien cringed, knowing he had wrinkled his nose in displeasure. He could scarcely remember the last time anyone had compared him with any of his brothers. “Don’t offend me,” he mumbled.
Elain laughed, the sound as lovely as daybreak. It echoed prettily in the empty corridors of the Forest House, ringing around them just as surely as it did in Lucien’s mind for moments after she had stopped.
Lucien shook his head with a frown as he remembered that they were walking to the study Eris had claimed as his own decades before he had even been born. He could still recall hiding among the neatly organised bookshelves, escaping to the cosy space even when Beron’s eldest son was not home. “I still can’t believe you told him.”
Eris had suggested that Elain try and release some of the pent up magic, claiming it was dangerous to do so with no training. While Lucien actually agreed, he was still not sure how he felt about his brother’s steadily increasing involvement in their lives. In two days, they would be back in Velaris, the business with the wedding finally over. He secretly hoped Eris would drop the subject after their departure. Lucien, in any case, could not imagine the Autumn Court male going to the Hewn City despite the promise he had made to work on Elain’s abilities until she became more confident.
She shrugged, hardly concerned. “I foresee he’ll be a great help to us.” There was a restrained amusement to her words, the feeling trickling down the bond so Lucien could easily sense that she was merely teasing.
“The number of jokes at your disposal is unmatched,” he said, knocking his shoulder playfully into her side.
Elain grinned up at him, her dark eyebrow raised in challenge. She opened her full lips to respond, but her expression quickly transformed into one of concern. She pulled him to a stop, her head turning in the opposite direction.
Lucien was immediately alert, trusting her instincts just as well as his own. His muscles tensed as his ears caught the low sound of shouts coming from the hallway leading to the throne room.
“What’s happening?” She asked, just above a whisper. He could practically see her analysing the situation, weighing what she knew about Autumn and those that lived within the confines of the Forest House.
Assassination attempt.
The thought crashed around in Lucien’s skull for a moment, the familiarity of the feeling returning, a reminder of his past. It had happened before, enough so that Eris had taught him to sleep with his bed pushed to a wall, to ensure that his back was never exposed. He had to get Elain away, wanted to winnow her somewhere she would be safe but had no idea if there was a place secure enough within the court.
The torches flared around them, bright as the sun, and stayed that way. Lucien balanced Elain as she stumbled with a sudden yelp in her effort to move further from the walls. Embers fell to the stone floors like shooting stars, disappearing almost as soon as they had flickered to life.
The raw burst of power was one Lucien would have known anywhere. He had, after all, learned how to wield his own abilities at Eris’s side.
Realisation dawned on him, slower than dripping honey. The shouts continued to travel down the empty hall, and he easily identified the distinct voice of each of his brothers. “If I ask you to stay here, will you?” He addressed his mate, trying to keep the concern from his tone, but failing miserably.
Elain pressed her lips together, shaking her head slightly, a charming dimple appearing on her pale cheek. “Not a chance.”
Lucien sighed. He had expected her answer, but was still worried about her well-being. “Just promise you’ll keep your distance.” If Elain was anything like her sisters, he figured she would despise being kept far from the commotion.
She squeezed his hand to reassure him. “I promise.” It would have been too much to ask for his brothers to be on their best behaviour for a fortnight, Lucien thought coldly. They began to walk once again, this time in the direction of the continued shouts.
Stay close.
Lucien hoped the message came across clearly on the bridge between their souls. He would never forgive himself if something happened to Elain, but he knew the trust built between them would have crumbled had he forbidden her from coming with him. As they approached, the muffled shouts became easier to understand, and when they finally turned the corner, they could do nothing but pause and watch.
Eris was loud, his words an angry snarl. “Consider for a moment how easy it would be for me to kill you both and simply be done with this.” He was standing in the middle of Ronan and Felix, using his body to separate them. Taller than both, the span of his arms ensured they stayed away from one another.
Despite being a courtier and much smaller in size than Ronan, Felix lunged. Lucien sensed Elain’s confusion down the bond, her feelings mirroring his own. He had assumed the two were on good terms, had even witnessed as much during their short time in Autumn. While he knew nothing ever stayed the same in the Forest House, he was surprised by the swift moving game everyone played.
Eris shoved Felix away roughly, stopping the younger male in his tracks, ensuring that a physical altercation did not begin.
“Stay out of it,” Felix spat, expression murderous. He whirled on their eldest brother, directing his anger at him instead. Lucien could tell that Eris preferred it, could practically see the way he adjusted his stance in anticipation for things to quickly turn into a more violent direction.
“Can’t you see he’s itching for a fight, brother.” Ronan called, a slur to his words. It took Lucien a moment to realise that he must have been drunk. “Perhaps he needs to learn a lesson.”
Felix smiled, looking every bit a snake with fangs. He ran a hand over the sleeve of his opposite arm, a flash of silver appearing at the cuff, a silent message.
Eris seemed to have spotted it just as Lucien had, his entire body pulled taut. He looked like a warrior as he straightened his shoulders. “Enough,” he snapped, flames in his amber eyes, embers falling from the tips of his fingers. On most occasions, the tone would have frightened the rest of his brothers into yielding, but whatever had begun the argument was not so easily settled.
“Fuck off,” Felix clipped, stepping around Eris and right into Ronan’s line of sight.
Callum suddenly appeared next to Lucien, winnowing into the space effortlessly. Elain turned to look at him, but he did not even spare her a glance. He sighed loudly, rubbing a hand over his face, the action tired. “What could it be this time?”
Lucien shook his head, watching the scene continue to unfold in front of him. No weapons had yet been drawn, but the threat was there.
“Should we do something?” Elain wondered quietly, more to herself than to him and Callum.
Lucien bit his lip, considering. “We might just make it worse,” he said, knowing from experience how volatile fights between his siblings could become.
No sooner had the words left his mouth, Ronan threw a wicked stream of fire at Felix, the power strong enough to make the younger male shift on his feet. There were no burns, no fabric singed. It was clearly a warning, one that had Callum inching closer.
Callum approached the small group just in time for Felix’s answering magic to fly by him, hitting a decorative vase. It fell to the floor and shattered, tiny pieces dusting the stone like snowflakes. Almost like the toll of a bell ringing before a blood duel, the sound had each of his brothers springing into action.
Lucien watched as Eris was caught in the middle of both Felix and Ronan. The way they hit each other was brutal, and no amount of Callum pulling on any of them was enough to end the fight.
There was more yelling as Eris tried to convince them to stop, but their voices rose over the sound, arguing about something Lucien had no context for. He tried to catch onto any key words, but was unable to piece a clear picture together.
“Stay here,” Lucien mumbled, stepping away from Elain. She held onto his shirtsleeve, and he added a quick, “please.”
“I don’t think—”
Lucien did not wait for her to finish, winnowing into the fray. She would have asked him not to intervene, and he would not have been able to refuse her. The wind was quickly knocked out of him as Callum was shoved backwards right into his chest, an elbow catching him in the ribs. There was no time for apologies as they all attempted to find purchase on the nearest clothing item, pulling and trying to create distance between Felix and Ronan.
Lucien heard Elain call out his name, glad that she still remained far, that she had not attempted to move closer for a better look. His relief was short-lived as Felix twisted, throwing all of his body weight at him.
“You shouldn’t have come back,” Felix hissed as they fell to the ground in a tangled heap. It was low enough that no one else would have heard, the words making Lucien uneasy.
Exile.
Felix had been a vicious child, cunning and manipulative and always eager to impress their father. While he and Lucien had been close in age, a few short years separating them, they had never gotten along. The constant comparison had forged competition between them, ensuring that they were never allies.
Lucien moved roughly, his shoulder hitting Felix so hard he drew blood. The copper scent lingered in the air as he scrambled to his feet, breathing ragged.
Felix stayed on the ground, a scarlet trail falling from his nose and running over his lips. It gave him a wild impression, fire flickering in his gaze. “You bastard,” he snarled, the insult venomous falling from his mouth. Lucien flinched, his eye whirring.
“Enough.”
The word fell over Lucien, echoing in the space. It was the direct order of a High Lord and there was no other choice but to listen.
Lucien watched as Felix paled, noticing how the sound of Ronan fighting with Eris stopped immediately. He turned to see their father standing next to Elain, a crown made of oak leaves resting on his chestnut coloured hair. His mate looked small, her hands curled into fists at her sides. She was obviously worried, but she stayed frozen in place, hardly recoiling at the power leaking from the ancient creature near her.
When it was obvious that he held each of his sons’ attention, he turned a sharp gaze on Felix. “Is that any way to speak when a lady is present?”
His brother’s lip curled up in anger, as though he were ready to argue. There was blood on his teeth, giving him the appearance of a predator. Beron raised a hand, stopping him before he even started. “Is it, Felix?”
Everyone held their breath, an unnatural silence in the corridor. Lucien’s eyes flicked between the two males and his mate, wondering what he might do if the situation became explosive. “No,” his brother uttered, the word strained, like it was being pulled out of him against his will.
Eris moved, the shift small, but Beron saw it from the corner of his eye. Their father shot him a withering glare, warning evident in the tight pull of his mouth. “Where are your manners, child?”
Felix bristled at the insult. Lucien could see him weighing the idea of his punishment, considering how angry Beron was to determine his choice. “You have my apologies, lady,” he said, a restrained anger in his tone. He dipped his chin mechanically, a mockery of a bow.
Elain stayed still, looking like the statues of Day, regal and unbothered. Her silence added to the tense atmosphere as they all waited to see what Beron would say next.
Their father simply nodded. “Leave the fighting until our guests are gone,” he ordered. There was collective relief amongst Lucien and his brothers as they realised there would be no further punishment. The humiliation seemed to be enough for Beron, a testament perhaps to him being in a good mood.
The High Lord winnowed without a word, snuffing all of the torches in the hall. Plunged into a few short moments of darkness left Lucien disoriented, he barely realised that Eris was standing behind him. The fires were lit easily, and he could not decide which one of his brothers had done so. He barely gave it any thought, not when Elain ran to him, skirts in hand, her eyes wide with worry.
Lucien half saw as Felix swatted Callum’s outstretched hand, refusing any help and getting up inelegantly. Blood had stained the collar of his brother’s shirt, and for a moment guilt flooded his senses.
Felix spat onto the floor, scarlet smattering the pale stone, before he marched away. There were dancing embers flowing behind him, Callum following at a safe distance.
You shouldn’t have come back.
Lucien pushed Felix’s words to the back of his mind, focusing on the comforting hand Eris placed on his shoulder. The gesture was more kindness than he had received from his eldest brother in centuries, but the warmth from his palm was gone quickly as Eris moved towards Ronan.
Elain grabbed onto Lucien’s wrist, the contact enough to settle his rapidly beating heart. She tucked herself into his chest, letting him wrap an arm around her waist. He glanced at his remaining brothers, keeping his mate close.
“You should have stayed in Night,” Ronan said gruffly, straightening his jacket.
It was unclear to Lucien whether the comment was directed at him or Elain.
Notes:
i couldn’t write this without including a vanserra brother brawl! thank you so much to everyone who took the time to comment last chapter <3 it always helps keep me motivated to write when i know other people are reading this and enjoying it!!! next chapter elain and lucien get a little closer ;)
Chapter 28: Part XXVII
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Elain traced the fine calligraphy of the letter in her hands. Her name was written across the sealed envelope in a pretty, looping scrawl. She would have recognised Nesta’s lovely script anywhere.
The familiar wax seal had been pressed with a symbol she knew well. The peak of the mountain was one she had seen painting the horizon of her home for the last few years, the three little stars drawing her attention.
Cora had given her the envelope just as she had been getting ready for bed. The knock had her freezing at first, anticipating the worst. Lucien never made his presence known, choosing to simply use his magic to enter their rooms, same as Eris. At the late hour she could hardly imagine anyone coming for a social visit.
The sound of her friend’s voice, had Elain tugging a nightgown over her head in a clumsy rush, running barefoot over the carpeted floors to open the oak door of her and Lucien’s shared chambers.
Cora had looked serious, passing her the piece of parchment with her full lips tugged into a slight frown. “From your sister,” she had whispered, so low Elain almost had not heard. She had pressed it into her palm, pressing down slightly to indicate its importance.
Elain had known her brows were furrowed, the confusion she had felt etching onto her expression. She had opened her mouth, but had not been given the chance to respond, or even ask for clarification.
“Sleep well,” Cora had offered quickly, shifting in a flurry of dark skirts. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The day of her wedding.
As the thought whirled in Elain’s mind for a moment, Cora stepped past the stone archway and winnowed down the hall effortlessly. Her steps were silent, her long hair swinging in its simple braid.
“Goodnight,” Elain mumbled, more to herself as the Night Court female turned down the corner, hardly casting her a second glance.
Lucien had gone to find his mother, and Elain was left to rip the letter open in privacy. She closed the door behind Cora, leaning her back against its rough surface. The bark was uneven through the fabric of her clothes, grounding her as she read over the words on the paper. Only one statement stood out to Elain, making her bite the inside of her cheek until she tasted the copper bitterness of her own blood.
The last few weeks of searching for a loophole have led us to dead end after dead end, and Rhysand wants to avoid a conflict at all costs.
While the writing was clearly Nesta’s, the words were obviously Feyre’s. Elain stopped reading to take a deep breath, her heartbeat thunderous, blood rushing to her ears. She wanted the same thing, especially after the war with Hybern. Seeing the death and destruction in the aftermath of such a war had been awful, had haunted her nightmares for months.
You have to decide whether you want to cancel this wedding, Elain, and whatever choice you make, me and Nesta will be there to support you.
The letter ended, leaving Elain to her own thoughts. She could not stop the small smile from gracing her features, glad that her sisters trusted her enough to make this decision without their influence. She read the letter one more time, committing the words to memory.
There was a loud crack coming from the logs in the fireplace, and Elain found herself taking small steps toward it. She understood completely that if she wanted to end her rushed engagement to Lucien, she was well within her power to do so.
My mate.
Elain knew all she had to do was tell Cora, and the two of them would face the High Lord of Autumn. Perhaps he would dismiss her, tell her it was wedding day nerves, but ultimately she figured he would let them leave. Eris might even help them, she was certain he did not want to see either of them dead at his father’s hands.
Lucien.
Elain whispered his name softly to herself, his name bringing her nothing but a sense of comfort and calm, so different from the emotions that had tormented her before she arrived at his cruel home. Elain traced her finger along the crisp edge of the letter, tossing it into the raging fire without a second thought, having made her decision days ago.
Elain was going to marry Lucien. She had convinced herself it had very little to do with their mating bond anyway. It all seemed so simple in her head. When they returned to Velaris together, she would get to know him further. At some point, Elain had begun to consider him a true friend, a partner as they navigated the obstacles in the Autumn Court. She could see him in her future as clear as if she were looking at it through glass.
Without warning, Lucien winnowed into the large space, causing Elain to jump with an embarrassing yelp. She watched as the last of the letter shrivelled and burned, turning to ash, just as she whirled around to face him. She pressed a hand to her chest, feeling the cotton of her nightgown beneath her fingers.
“You scared me,” Elain mumbled, pouting as she walked towards him, hoping he had not seen the last of the envelope’s remains in the fireplace. She hoped to avoid having such a conversation with him, especially as there were other more pressing matters on her mind.
Lucien laughed, leaning towards her as she approached, comfortable. “My apologies, lady,” he replied, bowing at the waist gracefully.
Elain rolled her eyes, not willing to admit she found him charming. She cupped his face between her hands, kissing him on the cheek softly. “How’s your mother?”
“Excited,” Lucien said, dimples flashing as Elain smiled up at him. “She’s been desperate to marry one of us off for centuries.”
There was a bit of guilt eating at Elain, and it had been for some time. Knowing that there were lies between herself and Callista did not seem like a good way to start their relationship, but she had decided that if the Lady of Autumn ever learned the truth, she would simply find it amusing.
“You never even got me an engagement ring,” Elain accused playfully, watching with hungry eyes as Lucien took off his emerald jacket. The muscles on his arms tensed, a brown flash of skin at his throat making her blush.
He seemed to notice, tossing the clothing carelessly onto an armchair. He rolled up the white sleeves of his shirt in practised gestures, revealing his forearms. “We don’t exchange rings in Autumn.”
Elain cleared her throat, feeling heat travel to the tips of her pointed ears. She turned away from him, inching towards the wooden dresser near their bed. The comb Eris had gifted her when she had first arrived to the Forest House glimmered in the light of the candless, a glare shining on the sharpened point of each tooth.
“Did you want me to get you one?” Lucien asked genuinely. She felt him searching the bond for any hint of whether she was upset, wanting to understand.
Elain smiled to herself, thinking about the last ring she had been given. Being on the other side of the wall seemed like a lifetime ago. “No, I don’t think I want another.”
She heard Lucien pause, waiting before he asked. “Do you still have that one?”
There was kindness in his tone, no anger or possession over the idea of whether she had kept it or not. Elain shrugged, remembering how she had taken Graysen’s ring off one day when she had been gardening years before. She had crushed the cheap iron between two rocks and dusted the remains of the pretty pearl into the dirt next to the roses.
Elain snorted, the sound unladylike but she found that she no longer cared about such things in Lucien’s presence. “I got rid of it a while ago.”
He nodded, and she saw him through the mirror, considering. “We exchange necklaces,” he offered. “Everyone can see the rings you wear, but a necklace stays hidden beneath the collars of our clothes, just for us. Usually there are promises engraved onto the metal.”
Elain hummed, tilting her head. “I like that.” She faced him, not realising how much closer he had gotten. She placed her hands onto the surface of the dresser behind her, feeling the edge digging into her hips. “They’d be made from gold?”
“Always,” he said softly, his eyes flicking to her lips for the briefest of moments. “Gold is the colour of love here.”
“I’m nervous,” Elain blurted suddenly, surprising herself with the admission. She gazed up at him, biting the inside of her cheek.
Lucien only smiled, the slightest tilt of his lips. “It’s not too late to call it off,” he replied with a shrug.
“I don’t want to do that,” she shook her head, loose curls bouncing. She liked how insignificant he made it seem, as if he would simply do whatever she wished. “It’s just…what does a wedding even look like here?”
Lucien raised an eyebrow. “You’re more worried about the ceremony than the fact that we’re actually going through with this?”
“Being married to you doesn’t seem entirely awful,” she said sweetly, patting his arm.
“How flattering,” he mumbled. She felt the way their bond practically sang at the contact.
Elain giggled, searching his gaze. “So Eris walks me down the aisle, you’re standing at the altar with a priestess, and the reception begins. Then what?”
“Then there’s a whole lot of praying to the mother,” Lucien said with a shrug. She motioned for him to go on, wanting him to continue. “The priestess is going to tie our wrists together, she’s going to pray a little more, and then we’ll officially be husband and wife.”
Elain frowned, trailing her finger up his arm, toying with the fabric of his collar. “That doesn’t sound romantic at all.”
Elain was certain she saw Lucien blush the slightest bit. “The romance starts when the couple is alone. Our court prefers small gestures, honest ones made in secrecy.”
She decided that sounded very much like the Autumn Court she had briefly come to know. She pressed her hand flat against the nape of his neck, forcing him to come closer. Her voice became strained as an awareness took over her body. “So we go to the ceremony, we celebrate with the guests, and once we’re alone?”
Lucien looked her up and down, and Elain tried to ensure scarlet did not stain her cheeks at the attention. His voice was low as he answered, “I suppose that’s up to you.”
Elain swallowed, humming softly, threading her fingers through his silken hair. It fell in loose waves down his broad back.
“Usually that’s when we would exchange the necklaces, and take our vows,” Lucien said.
“When would we kiss?” Elain asked, desire making her forward. She knew he felt the same.
“Up to you,” Lucien repeated softly, his breath fanned the curls framing her face.
Elain got on the tips of her toes, arms curling around Lucien’s neck so she could press her lips to his. What started as a gentle kiss quickly shifted into something more desperate, especially as she moved her one hand so that it could trail along the bare skin just beneath his collar.
Lucien held onto her waist tightly, keeping her pressed against the dresser. She arched into him, pressing herself more fully against him until there was no space left between them.
Elain felt his sharp canines drag against her lower lip, gasping as he moved to place a rough kiss on her jaw. She threaded her fingers in his hair, keeping him near in case he thought she wanted him to pull back.
The bond thrummed softly, familiar, as Lucien turned his attention to the laces at her throat. He undid them swiftly, pulling at the strings carelessly, so he could trace his nose along her collar bones. When he bit the exposed skin of her breasts, Elain began to pull at his shirt, attempting to remove the fabric.
“Lucien,” she breathed, his name a whisper as it fell from her mouth. He paused, shifting to look up at her. “I want you to…” the words caught in her throat, the growing ache between her legs fogging the rest of her senses and making her thoughts a mess. She rolled her hips in a gesture she hoped was enough to make him understand. At the feeling of his own arousal pressed against her core, he shifted forward to lean a hand onto the dresser. He pressed his forehead to her own, his eyes fluttering shut. He held himself like a coiled spring, every muscle tense.
“Whatever you want,” he murmured. He smelled of crisp apples and summer mornings, the scent of his desire lingering in the air around them. “Whatever you want, Elain, I’ll give it to you.”
“I want you,” she finished, kissing his cheek, her lips catching on the most brutal of his scars. The skin dipped and raised, but she did not feel it, merely noticing the way he seemed to relax at the action.
With no warning he lifted Elain into the air, gripping her with steady arms as he winnowed them to the bed. When the backs of her knees hit the mattress, she dragged him on top of her as she fell.
Lucien leaned on his elbow, hovering above her, his legs between hers. He bunched the fabric of her nightgown in his one fist, kissing her deeply as he waited for her consent. Elain pulled the shirt from where it had been tucked into his pants, letting her fingers trail along the exposed skin of his sides. He groaned at the contact, slowly moving the skirt of her dress so it rested in a wrinkled heap above her knees.
Elain lifted her hips in a silent invitation, needing him to be inside her, aching at the thought of it. Lucien had other plans, though, kissing and nipping at her through the fabric of her nightgown, inching lower as she whimpered. He was on his knees, and she pulled the cotton further, understanding dawning on her as she held his flame-filled gaze.
Lucien’s auburn hair reflected the sparks of the fireplace, his golden eye whirring softly in the silence while his russet one drank in the sight of her. His mouth brushed the place where all her pleasure centred, and Elain held her breath as she waited for him to make his next move. His broad hands spread her thighs slightly, keeping her in place, making her shiver.
When Lucien pressed the flat of his tongue against her, Elain moaned, the sound ripped from her. He lapped at her hungrily, encouraged by the whimpers she made. He pulled her close, and Elain hooked a leg over his shoulder, searching for the strands of his hair as she reached for him.
My mate.
The skillful way he slipped his tongue between her folds had her feeling feral, she moved her hips, already knowing she was close to falling over the edge. When Lucien pressed a finger against her entrance, Elain brought her hand to her mouth, biting at her thumb until she was sure there were marks.
He moved inside her slowly, drawing out her pleasure as he continued to lick and kiss at her. Elain thrust up into his hand when he added a second finger, shattering completely when he groaned, the vibrations making her see stars.
Elain was still dizzy when he gingerly unhooked the leg she had wrapped around him, easing back up into her arms. She tugged at his shirt. “Take these off,” she ordered weakly, reeling, needing more of him immediately.
Lucien huffed a laugh as he kissed her, and she could taste herself on his tongue. She made a soft sound, cupping his face with her hand, tracing the shape of cheekbone.
She felt the outline of his length pressed against her core, his pants separating them. “Lucien,” she whined, his name muffled as she tucked herself into the crook of his neck.
There was a flash of golden light as he gave in to her demand, ridding them of their clothes effortlessly with his magic. Next time, Elain promised to herself, she would painstakingly undo the buttons of his jacket and the laces of his shirt, but she was glad there was nothing between them anymore.
Elain was burning with desire, pulling him closer for another kiss. He kept his legs between her thighs, his body on top of hers overwhelming in the best way. She let her foot idly caress his calf, encouraging.
Lucien dragged the tip of his length between her folds, angling himself at her entrance. He shifted slowly, carefully, as though he was worried about hurting her. It was so unbelievably kind, emotion crashing over her as she realised just how much the bond must be affecting him. He seemed entirely unbothered, a sharp contrast to the creature Elain had become seeing him so vulnerable.
Lucien’s thrusts were slow, as he brought himself to the tip before pressing his hips fully against Elain each time. He kissed her between breathless gasps, soft sounds of pleasure falling from his lips as well. When he placed a hand between them, rubbing where she needed him most in rhythmic circles, she clenched her eyes shut.
When Lucien’s movements became more erratic, she watched, wanting to see him fall apart because of her. He threw his head back on a groan, his thrusts not stopping until she felt as her walls clenched around him. Elain bit his shoulder, stifling a cry, noticing they were both slick with sweat.
Lucien shifted, easing her onto his chest as they both caught their breath. Elain kissed his lips in small pecks, laughing softly as he wrapped his arms around her. He held her close, seemingly not wanting to let her go, and Elain decided she could have stayed with him forever.
My mate.
They fell asleep, limbs tangled, breath mingling. Elain felt safe tucked against him.
At some point in the night, she reached for Lucien once more, finding herself back under him. The candles had gone out and there was nothing but embers in the fireplace, but Elain was consumed in flames, the bond between their souls alight as she and Lucien came together once more.
Notes:
i hope you all liked this one ;) thank you for reading, i love seeing everyone’s thoughts in the comments <3
Chapter 29: Part XVIII
Chapter Text
Lucien stayed close to the forest’s edge, the treeline thick and providing him with some much needed cover from the guests milling about the open space. The sun had already set, the last rays slipping past the horizon without his notice. There were countless lit lanterns hanging from sturdy branches and tiny fireflies floating and glimmering in the dark. The moon was hidden behind the dense canopy of leaves, but its glow could still be seen reflecting on the stone path leading towards the temple.
Lucien had always thought it was fitting for the Autumn court’s oldest temple to be nestled deep in the middle of the woods, near enough to the Forest House and the capital city to make its location ideal. It had been built out of wide trunks, carvings sharing the story of the Cauldron and the Mother in excellent condition on the ancient panels.
The wood was so pale it resembled bone, the red leaves along the steps like drops of blood, disarming. Lucien could see the expression of wonder and uncertainty on the faces of each guest that approached, how they paused, hand hovering for a moment before at last holding onto the railing, knuckles white.
There were representatives from most of Prythian’s courts present for the reception, all of them dressed in colours traditionally associated with Autumn. Lucien still thought they seemed out of place amongst the aristocrats of his childhood home. He frowned when he was unable to see any of his brothers in the crowd, his golden eye whirring as he searched for the members of his family.
Lucien absently tugged at his shirt through the sleeve of his velvet jacket, thinking about his father and the brief interaction they had shared just before he had left his chambers. Elain had already left with Cora, laughing as she had kissed him, ordering him to stay away from the dressing room. Eris had stopped to check on him for a moment, but Lucien had been getting ready himself when the High Lord had knocked on the door.
Lucien had sensed the powerful magic, and had known who it was immediately, even before he had heard his name. He had faced his father, the laces of his sleeves still undone, hanging limply at his sides.
Beron had gestured with his hand, closing the space between them. Lucien had successfully avoided flinching as he had offered his arm, but his father had been surprisingly gentle, slowly tying the laces with practised fingers.
“Of all my children,” he had started, voice soft, “I did not think you would be the one to marry first.”
Lucien had hummed, otherwise remaining quiet. His golden eye had clicked into place as he had stared at the faint scar cutting across the High Lord’s cheekbone. He had always wanted to know the story of how he had gotten the permanent mark, but even in his youth, it had never felt like the right time to ask. Lucien had bitten down on his tongue as he switched to the other hand, letting his father do those laces as well.
Beron had elegantly tied two bows, each cross of the string identical to the one before, perfect. “Always interesting to see what the future holds,” he had finished, leaving the room and saying nothing more, boots echoing as he had walked into the corridor.
Lucien kept considering the exchange, each action repeating in his mind. He was still lost in thought when he felt a broad hand falling onto his shoulder, making his teeth knock against each other painfully. He turned sharply, cursing himself for not paying attention to his surroundings, but he relaxed when a familiar pair of bright green eyes looked at him apologetically.
“Didn’t mean to startle you.” Tamlin had dressed for the occasion, looking every bit the High Lord in a jacket made of the finest emerald material. There was golden thread stitched in the shape of oak leaves detailing his collar and cuffs.
Lucien ran a hand through his hair, careful not to tangle any strands. “I thought you were Ronan.”
Tamlin scrunched his nose in distaste, the dusting of freckles along the strong bridge shifting upwards. It was an expression Lucien had always thought made him look a little lupine. “You’ve been alright?” The tone he used was one of concern.
Lucien frowned as he fully faced his oldest friend, the familiar mix of emotions in his chest rising upwards, making him a bit uncomfortable. “You could have checked in before showing up on my wedding day.”
Tamlin raised a brow of burnished gold. “I don’t know why I expected Eris to tell you I’d gotten right to the doors of the Forest House before he sent me home, swearing to me you were engaged and just fine.”
“You definitely should have known better,” Lucien could not help but breathe a soft laugh, the old rhythms of their friendship falling into place.
“So I guess he hadn’t lied about that,” Tamlin said as he gestured around them with an arm.
“And you came?” Lucien wondered if Beron had sent invitations to Vassa and Jurian, hoping that they would have the good sense to stay away if that were the case.
Tamlin shrugged, his broad shoulders rising. “I wasn’t going to miss your wedding.” There was an emotion in his voice, one that Lucien could not entirely place, but he figured it seemed oddly like a shadow of regret.
“Feyre’s going to be here.” The statement hung between them, her name hardly ever being uttered in his presence.
Tamlin winced. “I’m sure seeing her will never be less awkward.” He glanced around them, clearly not wanting to discuss her further. His eyes danced over the assembled crowd, searching. “Where’s the bride?”
Lucien smiled, patting Tamlin on the back. “Human tradition, it's apparently bad luck to see her before I’m at the altar.”
Tamlin hummed, obviously not familiar with the custom. “You’re going to have to tell me what happened between you and your mate in such a short amount of time.”
“Long story,” Lucien answered, acknowledging that he would not mind sharing the tale with Tamlin. “I’ll come for dinner in Spring one of these days and tell you everything.”
Tamlin flashed a smile in his direction, sharp canines bright in the glow of the moon’s light. “I’ll bring out the good barrels of wine, you can complain about your brothers, too.”
“Thanks for coming, Tam.” While things had been better between them for years, they were still not as they once were. Sometimes Lucien missed how close they used to be, and looked back fondly at the decades he had spent in the manor, but he could admit that it was perhaps best to leave the past where it was.
Tamlin flushed a deep scarlet, clearing his throat as he spoke. “I wasn’t going to miss your wedding,” he repeated, looking away from Lucien just as the Night Court made an appearance at the opposite end of the large and cleared space of the woods.
Although Tamlin looked entirely unbothered by the Inner Circle’s arrival, he squeezed Lucien’s shoulder, moving away from their hiding spot. “I’ll see you inside,” he said, smiling briefly before he steadily made his way towards the temple. Each patch of grass he stepped on seemed a bit more alive, the green a little brighter.
As Lucien watched Tamlin’s departing back, Cora winnowed into the spot he had just left. She was close enough to Lucien that the dark brown fabric of her skirts touched his boots, golden beads fading up towards her bodice in a way that made her waist appear smaller than it actually was.
“Elain is ready, so once your father joins, we can start,” she announced.
“You look lovely, Cora,” Lucien offered as he started walking towards the small group from the Night Court. The dark coal around her eyes gave her an air of mystery, but she fit in quite well with the mingling courtiers now that she was dressed like a lady.
The answering smile Cora cast in his direction was one that suggested she was well aware of her beauty. “You don’t look too bad, either.”
Lucien shook his head, amused, as he chuckled. Feyre heard the sound first, breaking into a wide grin as she spotted them approaching. She dropped Rhysand’s hand, throwing herself into his arms for a hug, her words the buzz of a bee’s wings as she asked him a flurry of questions.
Lucien answered each one patiently, still paying careful attention to the reactions of the assembled guests to ensure his father had not yet arrived.
Azriel and Morrigan were nowhere to be seen, but Lucien would not have been surprised if the shadowsinger was lingering in the woods somewhere to keep watch. Cassian stayed close to Nesta, his hand resting protectively on her lower back. She glared at Lucien when she caught him looking, but said nothing biting. “This court makes me uneasy,” she declared, her voice cold as ice.
Lucien furrowed his brows.
“Why?” Cora asked curiously when no one else did.
Nesta turned silver eyes on her, the glare of the lanterns making it seem like there were dancing flames in her gaze. “It feels like death.” Cassian ran a comforting hand along his mate’s back, but no one seemed concerned other than Cora.
Feyre rolled her eyes, gripping Lucien’s arm. “It’s much prettier than I was expecting.”
Lucien would have asked the High Lady if she had been expecting him and Elain to be married in the dungeons, but he gently took his hand away from her. He excused himself from the chatting group when he saw his mother and Callum winnow right where the sharp edge of the trees began, Felix walking with purpose towards them.
Lucien approached them warrily, hearing as Felix asked their mother a question. “Where’s Eris?” He said it sharply, enough so that the Lady of Autumn frowned at him disapprovingly.
“You better not start a fight,” Callum warned, mirroring their mother’s expression.
While Felix did not apologise, he did clarify. “I need to speak with him,” he said, his face pulled into a scowl.
“He’s with Elain,” Lucien interjected, meeting his brother’s glare. Flames danced in the deep russet of Felix’s eyes, nearly a perfect match to his own.
“It can’t wait?” Callum asked, not unkindly.
Felix curled his hands into fists, but before they could argue further, the Lady of Autumn stepped in between them. “I’ll help you find him,” she offered. All the fight drained from him as he nodded, turning on his heel as walked towards the far end of the temple.
There was a moment of silence as Lucien waited for them to be out of hearing distance, raising an eyebrow in question as he faced his older brother.
Callum did not seem to have an answer, but his expression softened. He had always been the kindest of the Vanserra, and when he reached up with a gentle hand, Lucien had thought for a moment that he was going to brush back his hair. A memory flashed in his mind’s eye, but Callum simply removed a leaf from where it had fallen onto his shoulder. “Ready?”
Lucien nodded, taking a deep breath as he made his way into the temple and towards the altar, waiting once more for Elain.
Notes:
thank you for reading!!! the next chapter was actually the first one i wrote, so i’m SUPER excited to share it soon <3
Chapter 30: Part XXIX
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Elain straightened her skirts, smoothing out the fabric with gentle fingers. The golden rings she was wearing glimmered when she moved, attracting her attention. Rubies and pearls adorned each band, riches on full display as was traditionally expected of an Autumn Court bride. She breathed in, feeling Lucien’s presence down the bond. She could practically feel each beat of his heart matching the rhythm of her own, a familiar comfort while she waited by the edge of the woods.
Cora had just left to tell Lucien that Elain was ready, disappearing in an effortless winnow and leaving her to wait for Eris to arrive. She absently patted the crown of her head, ensuring no curl was out of place. The comb Eris had gifted her pinned the strands away from her face, revealing the pale column of her neck. She bit her lip nervously, wondering if Lucien would find her lovely.
My mate.
Elain whispered the words, grounding herself in the moment.
My husband.
She supposed she might have to get used to referring to Lucien as such, even if they had both decided to take things slow once they returned to Velaris. There were countless little details Elain still wanted to know about the man she had risked everything for, and considering she was immortal, they would have all the time in the world. She could imagine it all so clearly, experiencing the small and everyday joys with someone she had undoubtedly fallen for.
Elain smiled, her lips pulled upwards involuntarily as memories from the night before flashed in her mind. Lucien had known exactly what she had needed, and she had managed to surprise even herself at the shameless way she had expressed her every desire. It had been absolutely perfect, he had been absolutely perfect.
At the quiet sound of low voices, Elain was dragged out of her thoughts. She got onto the tips of her toes, peering through the foliage until her eyes landed on a familiar figure. She spotted Eris, his hair a near match to the maple leaves that gently danced around her. Gripping her skirts, she began to walk towards him, but she stopped in her tracks when she noticed that his father was at his side.
Eris looked handsome in a flawlessly tailored waistcoat, the brocade pattern shimmering to look like roses against the dark brown fabric. There was not a single wrinkle on his neatly pressed shirtsleeves, and his long leather boots appeared to be brand new. He barely resembled his father, and the stark contrast in their outfits highlighted each difference.
The High Lord was wearing an elegant jacket made of velvet in a deep shade of crimson. The cut was simple yet flattering, golden details stitched along the collar created a beautiful pattern, standing out brightly against the material. He looked devastatingly regal and completely in his element.
A warning shiver ran up Elain’s spine, the feeling making her uneasy. It felt like a warning, a bird’s call before a raging thunderstorm. A voice seemed to linger in the large open space, urging her to wait.
Instead of continuing forward, Elain hid herself from view, trying her best to use her surroundings as a shield. Drawing on her very limited knowledge of stealth, she focused her energy on staying as quiet as she could. Her palm touched the rough bark of the tree next to her, and she leaned onto the thick trunk slightly for support, the pure white train of her dress dragging along wavy roots. She strained her ears, listening to the steady rise of the High Lord’s voice as the two men approached, coming closer and not knowing that they were being watched.
“When the girl arrived in our court, I wasn’t pleased,” Beron said, his footsteps silent along the forest floor despite the twigs and leaves in his path. For a moment, Elain was reminded of a vicious predator, feline in nature, ready to pounce.
Eris hummed, the soft response carrying on a gentle wind. “And now?”
Beron shrugged, his broad shoulders shifting upwards. “She’s grown on me.”
Elain realised belatedly that they were speaking about her. She felt as her brows pinched together. Curiosity had her inching forward in an attempt to hear better, eager to know what else they might say. The feeling of dread still lingered in her gut, and she worried if Eris might share her secret with his father. Anger gripped her readily, and she knew a frustrated blush was staining her pale cheeks.
Elain gasped when a rough hand grabbed her wrist, and although she was able to stop herself from crying out in surprise, terror slowed her reactions. Slim fingers cold as ice held onto her tightly, feeling like claws. Once her emotions settled, she whipped her head around to see who it was, prepared to scream for help.
“What are you doing?” Lethe hissed, the question falling between clenched teeth. She was clearly not very pleased with having caught someone eavesdropping on a private conversation between her friend and his father.
Elain kept her voice low, barely a whisper as she made her demand. “Let go.”
The other woman did not, but Elain was secretly very proud of herself for maintaining her composure. Lethe tugged her arm forcefully. “You’re being rude,” she admonished, judgement leaking into her tone despite how quiet the words were.
Elain rolled her eyes, biting back a bitter accusation as she once again turned her attention to the High Lord. He had a hand on his son’s shoulder, the gesture surprisingly sweet and fatherly. “I suppose I should thank you, Eris.”
At the words, even Lethe joined in listening, standing closer. She ignored the pointed look Elain shot in her direction, aggressively knocking into her shoulder. It was almost friendly, playful in nature, easing some of her nerves.
Elain saw as Eris frowned, a wary edge falling over his features. “For what?” He asked, tilting his head like a confused hound. Beron’s grasp tightened, the tips of his fingers leaving small imprints where they touched.
The world spun around Elain, making her lose every sense of direction. It was like the ground had disappeared beneath her feet, there and then gone. The feeling of Lethe’s fingers still on her wrist kept her from falling, and she struggled to connect what she saw in front of her with reality.
Darkness lingered at the edges of her vision, and her mouth was open although no sound fell from her tongue. She felt like she was floating, lingering like a fog that clung to the forest.
Beron had moved swiftly, like a snake rushing towards its prey. He held the hilt of a knife between his fingers, the only part visible as the blade dug deep through skin and bone. There was a flare of magic, flames dancing for a moment before extinguishing completely. Heat carried in waves, and Eris’s lips parted in silent shock. His amber eyes were wide, their golden depths fading, the strange colour leaking with every passing moment.
Beron shifted, his hand moving gently from where he had been gripping his son’s shoulder. He placed his palm against the crook of his neck, cupping Eris’s jaw, before he responded to the unanswered question. “For bringing me something Made.”
Elain would have made a sound, agony ripped through her chest, almost as if she had been the one stabbed. In response to the tension taking over her body, Lethe pulled her close so that Elain fell against her. The moan she made was muffled as the other woman pressed a hand so tightly to her mouth that she could scarcely breathe.
“Oh gods,” Lethe murmured, terror clinging to the prayer. She tried to pull them both away, but Elain dug her heels into the ground, keeping them in place.
Eris glanced at the dagger, his hand grabbing onto the High Lord’s fist. He took an uneasy step back. “Father—”
Beron followed, cutting short whatever his son had meant to say. “You lie like your mother,” he interrupted, poisonous resentment in the accusation. He moved his arm a second time, a flash of starlight as the weapon reflected the moon’s glow for the briefest of moments. Beron plunged the dagger forward with no hesitation, jerking the blade upwards violently.
Eris grunted, blood dripping from his mouth as he leaned into Beron’s grip. It was strange, Elain thought, that it almost looked affectionate. “You play the game of lords well, and I’ve grown to admire you for it, my boy.”
Eris clung to his father’s jacket, scarlet on his fingers. It was the exact shade of a rose petal, deep and lovely. It left no stain on the crimson velvet. He shook his head, eyes dark.
Beron continued, supporting his son’s weight. “But you’re weak in all the ways that matter, and for that, I have only myself to blame.”
Eris fell against his father, eyes fluttering shut, as he made a pained sound. Lethe groaned similarly as she watched, clinging to Elain desperately. Beron ran a hand over the back of his son’s head, pressing their foreheads together gingerly, lovingly. “I’m sorry, Eris,” he offered into the stretch of silence, sincerity dripping from his tone.
Eris did not respond. He only grunted one final time when Beron removed the dagger, the tip of the golden blade dull and strange. His knees gave out attempting to hold his own weight, and while a hand searched absently for the wound, the other lingered on his father’s boot. He coughed, blood staining his collar, scarlet ruining his waistcoat. Elain watched, frozen and horrified as Eris collapsed inelegantly, the action so at odds with the self control he usually possessed.
When he remained unmoving, Lethe sprung into action. She held onto Elain tightly, dragging her away. There were tears on both their cheeks, and Elain choked on a sob when Lethe finally removed the hand she had kept on her mouth.
Lucien.
Elain needed her mate.
“We have to find Callum,” Lethe mumbled, pulling Elain deeper into the woods, leading them towards the sounds of an assembled crowd.
Wedding guests.
Elain realised just as Lethe did that the usual rhythms of the forest had fallen silent. It was unnerving and unnatural, a warning just as striking as the toll of a bell. Lethe tensed before she shoved Elain forward, pushing her until she lost her balance. “Run,” she ordered, frightened eyes wide.
Elain could do nothing but obey. She began to sprint, kicking off her shoes so she could gain more purchase in the loose dirt. She did not even bother looking back to see if Lethe was following her, desperate in her attempts to reach Lucien. She tugged on the golden thread connecting them, hoping he would hurry.
Elain collided with branches as she continued towards the growing sound of laughter and conversation, sobbing in her relief. She was aware of a presence behind her, looming and ancient, the magic freezing the blood in her veins. Twigs cut at the skin of her cheeks, feeling like sharp nails.
A wolf howled beside her, haunting.
Elain nearly fell when she tripped on the uneven land, golden skirts getting in the way. She grabbed at the fabric, holding it near her waist.
The forest was a maze, and she was grateful for her faerie strength and stamina as she ran, trying to reach Lucien. She had to tell him about Eris, needed him to know about what his father had done.
Darkness appeared suddenly, like a cloud had floated across the sky and blocked the moon. Elain continued to run, slipping in her desperation, a sob ripped from deep within her throat.
There was no light, and she felt sick. The trees spun around her, overwhelming her senses as she tripped, scraping her legs. The copper scent of her own blood lingered in the air, dizzying. Elain fell to her knees as Eris had, but at least the ground was soft, she thought, the dirt smooth beneath her fingers.
Elain glanced up, craning her neck as the stars winked out of existence. She briefly saw the moon, shining through a gap in the dense canopy of leaves. It was framed prettily by the night sky, hope rising briefly but despair taking root as the moon was swallowed entirely by the dark.
Notes:
sorry :(
Chapter 31: Part XXX
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The sky was a vicious blue, bright and cloudless. The smell of blooming flowers was in the air, strong enough to choke. Elain had to raise a pale hand to cover her eyes, blocking the unforgiving sun. A gentle wind blew, kissing her cheeks. The grass was cool beneath her bare feet, dew drops making the edges of her pink skirts damp.
Elain glanced down, tilting her head when she noticed that it almost looked like blood. It stained the elegant fabric, ruining it. She frowned as she straightened the wrinkles, her brows pinched. Red rose petals were littered between the emerald blades of grass, a perfect path that she chose to follow.
Elain walked with steady steps, unnerved by the silence in the open space. There were no singing birds, no buzzing bees, no trickling streams. A shiver danced along her spine as she continued forward, the scarlet petals shifting until they whirled together like a rushing river.
It looked like hair, she observed. She tracked the length of it, searching. Her mind moved slowly, her thoughts disconnected from what she saw.
Empty eyes stared upwards, unblinking amber gemstones.
Elain woke up with a gasp. Her body moved involuntarily, shooting upwards despite the numbness she felt in her limbs. Someone quickly created more distance between them, and Elain twisted her neck so she could face whoever it was.
“Vassa?” She said, voice a strained rasp. She had forgotten to refer to her using a title. Elain cleared her throat, wishing she could have a sip of water. She let her vision adjust to the night, pretty hair the colour of a copper coin flashed as the other woman nodded.
The cursed queen breathed a relieved sigh, tension leaving her shoulders as she slumped into a more comfortable position. “Elain?” At the tilt of a chin she received in response, Vassa ran a hand over her face roughly. “You weren’t waking up,” she declared, her accent similar to the one in cities that had bordered the wall.
Koschei.
The death god’s name echoed in Elain’s mind. If Vassa was with her, his involvement was the only explanation she could think of.
Elain took a shaking breath. “That happens sometimes,” she mumbled, letting her fingers dig into the soft earth in an attempt to ground herself. She checked her surroundings to decide what she might do next, hoping that she recognised where she was.
The moon was high, and stars glittered tauntingly against the endless dark. Elain was left with the impression that they were laughing at her misery. She could tell that she was near water, perhaps past the forest’s edge and a bit farther than the clearing she found herself in. The air was damp, a humid fog clinging to the trees and creating a rather uncomfortable atmosphere.
Elain was certain that she was no longer in any of the seasonal courts of Prythian, and although she might have been in one of the solar ones, she determined it was quite unlikely. There was something distinctly ancient about the forest, leafless branches reaching up towards the sky like hands made of bone. The wood of each tree was a ghostly white, a stark contrast to the dirt covering the map of roots beneath the surface.
There was magic thrumming all around her, Elain knew, but it was unlike her own. There was something about it that briefly reminded her of Nesta. She frowned, concern replacing all other emotions. She wondered if she was in the Middle, keeping in mind the stories Feyre had told her.
“Had a good night’s sleep?”
The question rocked Elain, snapping her out of her own thoughts. She had not noticed that there was someone else there, but the familiar voice was enough to make anger rush through her veins.
Elain faced Lethe, scowling as she saw how beautiful the other female still looked despite the ordeal they had endured. Her dress was left in perfect condition, no tears in the expensive fabric. She had unpinned her hair, and it fell in an icy sheet to her waist, not a single knot between the strands. Embers sparked to life in her eyes as she raised an unimpressed brow.
“You’re here.” Elain said without thinking, stating the obvious. For a moment, she was glad to have someone she knew with her, but she was quickly reminded that the two of them did not exactly get along.
“I’d rather be dead,” Lethe declared with a sniff. The words hung between them, sharpened by the silence.
“That can easily be arranged,” Vassa offered, but was promptly ignored.
Elain kept looking at Lethe, their gazes locked, when a horrifying realisation dawned on her. “No one knows,” she muttered, heartbeat thunderous in her ears. Panic gripped her like a claw and she tried to pull at the mating bond with no success. While she thought it was probably the distance, a million awful scenarios came to mind.
Lucien.
Elain grabbed at the curls against her scalp, tugging to stop herself from whimpering. If Beron would go so far as to harm Eris, she had a hard time believing he would have second thoughts about doing the same to her mate.
“No one knows,” Lethe confirmed, sounding exhausted.
“Fuck,” Elain mumbled under her breath, the foul language slipping from her tongue easily. “What about Eris?”
Lethe straightened, a commanding air to her at the mention of her friend. “What about him?” When Elain remained quiet, the other woman shook her head. “There’s nothing to be done for him.”
Elain felt the events leading up to that moment crash down on her like a wave. With no outlet for her frustration, she heard her own voice raise accusingly. “Some friend you are,” she spat, the anger making her brave. “We should have helped him, he’s hurt–”
“Hurt?” Lethe snarled, interrupting the rest of Elain’s sentence. “You think he’s hurt?”
Elain winced at the aggressive tone. “I think–”
Lethe laughed, the sound grating like a blade against marble. “You think Eris is hurt?” When Elain remained silent, she waved a hand, the nails on each finger filed to a dangerous point. “I think you’re stupid,” the Autumn noble snarled.
Vassa made a soft sound, a gentle warning. Lethe continued as though she had not heard, teeth bared threateningly. “Eris is dead, and I’m stuck here with the foolish little human girl he felt responsible for.”
“I’m not human,” Elain corrected, a finality to the statement. It was the first time she had said the words out loud, acceptance sneaking up on her as steady as the rising sun. Where grief once would have been, confidence in herself only remained. “I’m not human,” she repeated, “and Eris isn’t dead. He can’t be.”
Elain refused to consider it. There was something constant about the Autumn heir, like the unchanging seasonal court he had been born in, timeless.
All the fight seemed to leak from Lethe, her shoulders curling inward as she bent her legs to her chest. “No one could have survived that.” She rested her chin against her knees, looking very young, voice breaking like glass as she spoke. “You wouldn’t have recognised the dagger, but it’s made entirely of gold and tipped with ash.”
“The ash is enough to kill him?” Elain asked, her question wavering. She felt a burning behind her eyes, and she blinked to keep her tears at bay.
Lethe sighed, but there was no judgement in the sound. “Our teachers in the Forest House told us that the High Lord slaughtered his father with that weapon and forced himself onto the throne.” She paused, using her sleeve to wipe at her cheeks. “Ash wood is like a poison without a cure for the fae.”
Elain closed her eyes, clenching them shut to cut herself off from the rest of the world. There was a sharp ringing in her ears, like the aftermath of a bell’s toll. It took all of her willpower not to break down into wretched sobs.
A gentle hand rested on Elain’s back, a comfort as she bit her lip hard enough to draw blood.
“Everything is going to be fine,” Vassa lied. The human queen rubbed at the spot between Elain’s shoulder blades, staying close even as her nerves settled.
“Hope is for those who don’t know any better,” Lethe offered, no matter how unwelcome the opinion was.
“Lucien is going to come for us.” Elain said softly, putting her wish into the universe and hoping against all odds that it would become a reality.
Notes:
i got stuck writing lucien’s pov and then i remembered i could just do whatever i wanted LOL i’m sorry this one took a while to be shared!!! thank you for reading <3
Chapter 32: Part XXXI
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
A bird called out, like a clap of thunder, before silence fell over the large and open meadow.
The sun continued to rise. Warm rays filtered through the leaves of the oak trees at the forest’s edge, creating an ever moving pattern along the already swaying grass.
The bright and lovely wildflowers glimmered in the morning’s first light, each delicate dewdrop decorating the petals a shimmering diamond.
The dirt beneath the emerald sheet of grass shifted as hands cleaned of all their skin reached for the sky. Joints held together by a power older than Prythian, thin fingers of bone cut through the earth.
Like drowning sailors kicking up from the ocean’s depths after a shipwreck, more and more hands crashed through the surface.
A spring wind blew gently, carrying the faintest scent of rot.
The dead broke free of their graves, and had each skull possessed eyes, they would have opened.
Notes:
hello lovely readers!!! so sorry that this chapter is way shorter than usual, but i did want to share to those following along that i will be taking a break from this story <3 it is NOT abandoned, but my excitement for it has waned over the last little bit. when inspiration strikes, i’ll be back :) thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read, my appreciation is endless <3
Chapter Text
Elain was warm, wrapped in the gentle embrace of the morning light that streamed through the windows. She kept her eyes shut, remained entirely still, but could not help the smallest of smiles from tugging the corners of her lips upwards.
Lucien’s hand was on her back, tracing delicate patterns along her skin like it was a canvas, his touch light and careful. Every brush of his fingers felt like an unspoken promise, a reminder that he was there should she need him.
She hummed, a soft melody of contentment, as if her very act of breathing was tied to his presence. The scent of rich vanilla lingered, inviting. Lucien’s fingers danced along her spine with a tenderness that made her chest tight, a sensation so familiar, so comforting, that it made her feel safe in a way nothing else could.
Elain savoured the intimacy of the moment, the quiet peace, the feeling of his warmth against her. She turned slowly, tilting her chin up so she could look at him. Lucien’s russet eye was filled with affection, his steady gaze stripping her bare. His hand slipped effortlessly through her hair, fingers threading through the curls as he tucked a strand behind her pointed ear.
“Good morning,” she whispered, her voice thick with sleep, slipping between them like a secret. She smiled, and without a thought, closed the distance separating them. Leaning in slowly, Elain’s lips brushed against her mate’s, gentle as the rays of a summer sun dusting the horizon.
Elain felt Lucien smile, her teeth grazing the scar that cut through his full bottom lip. He pulled her so that she was laying on top of him, her hand coming to rest on his chest, her nails leaving marks on his skin. Lucien kissed her in a way that made her feel like the most precious thing in the world, unhurried.
Elain shifted, the sheets around them both rustling with the movement. Lucien cupped her face, his thumb tracing the curve of her jaw with the kind of reverence that made her pulse quicken. It was as though he were committing every detail of her to memory. She did the same, the fingers of her one hand tugging at the soft strands of his silken hair, pulling him into the kiss, always closer.
The initial softness gave way to something more urgent as the kiss deepened, became more consuming. His lips brushed against hers with a fire that spoke of longing, reminding Elain of a time when there was only a quiet yearning between them. Her fingers tightened against his chest, feeling the steady, insistent rhythm of his heartbeat. She could hear it clearly, felt it along the unbreakable thread that kept them tethered to one another.
Lucien’s hand snaked along her waist, earning a gasp. His tongue brushed against hers with slow deliberation, a tantalising glide that made her shift against him in search of friction. The taste of him was intoxicating, making her forget about everything else.
A soft, breathy moan escaped her lips, a sound of satisfaction and surrender, as the kiss stretched on, time bending around them. Every touch, every breath, had her wanting more, as if it were simply instinct to want someone so wholeheartedly.
When Lucien finally pulled back, it was deliberate, his golden eye whirring. The russet one was dark with desire, gaze still locked on hers. His lips curved into a fleeting smile, one that made her heart flutter even as they both paused for breath, their chests rising and falling in tandem.
“I have something for you,” Lucien murmured, his voice low and velvety, almost teasing, though there was something darker beneath it. There was a flicker of something else in his familiar features, something unreadable that made Elain’s heart skip in a way that felt both thrilling and unsettling.
Elain, still flushed from their kiss, smiled softly, though the expression felt thin, fragile in the face of the growing tension between them. “What is it?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly, curiosity battling with an instinctive unease. Part of her still clung to the warmth of their closeness, but another part felt an odd shiver crawling up her spine, a warning.
Lucien reached behind him, grabbing something from the bedside table, the muscles of his shoulders tense despite the simple gesture. When he retrieved the object, Elain’s attention snapped to it with an almost magnetic force. A small, square box lay in his broad hand.
Her heart lurched in her chest, the sensation so sudden it took her breath away. The box shimmered in the morning light, catching the faint glow of the sun like it was somehow alive. The box seemed to pulse with an energy that made the very space between them vibrate, as though it were waiting for her to reach out and touch it.
It was jet black, smooth and polished, its surface glossy and cold. No seams, no edges, just a perfect, flawless square, like a piece of obsidian carved by an unseen hand. At the centre, a small lock caught her attention. Silver, intricate, delicate. It was shaped like a twisting vine, its tendrils curling in on themselves with a fluid, serpentine grace.
The lock itself seemed to shimmer in and out of focus, almost as if it were breathing, its presence humming with a strange and disquieting energy. It beckoned her, silently, and Elain felt her body tense in response.
Her breath caught in her throat. She could not look away. A cold, gnawing sensation curled in her stomach, unsettling, familiar. It was a feeling she was unable to place, something ancient and forbidden, and it gnawed at her insides like a hunger she could not satisfy.
The temptation to touch it, to open it, was overwhelming, a whisper in the back of her mind. It was as if the box had a will of its own, and that will was beginning to seep into her thoughts.
Lucien must have noticed her silence because he shifted, his brow furrowing in concern. “Elain?” His voice was soft now, laced with worry, but there was something in his gaze distinctly unfamiliar, deepening the unease blooming in her chest. “What’s wrong?”
She did not answer immediately. The pull of the box was too strong, its presence consuming her thoughts, drowning out the sound of his voice. Her fingers twitched, itching to touch it. And then, without thinking, she reached out, tentative, her hand drawn forward by an invisible string.
Her fingertips brushed the side of the box, and the moment her skin made contact, a shock of ice shot up her arm, stabbing through her veins suddenly. The cold was unnatural, sharp and biting, as though the warmth of her own body was being ripped from her. She felt it crawling up her wrist, over her shoulder, sinking into her chest like a cold hand clutching her heart.
Elain flinched, her breath catching in her throat, but the pull of the box only intensified, growing stronger with each passing second, until she felt as though she were drowning in it.
“Lucien…” she whispered, her voice trembling, barely audible, nearly foreign to her own ears. A tremor ran through her body, her fingers still aching to touch the box, the need gnawing at her. Something was wrong, so very wrong, but the box was all she could think about now, its hum like a lullaby in her mind.
The room began to distort, as if the fabric of reality was unraveling. Her surroundings blurred into a thick, oppressive darkness, stretching around her like a vast, unending ocean. The comforting weight of Lucien’s presence seemed to slip away from her, the sound of his heartbeat fading into silence.
I can hear your heart through the stone.
Elain reached for Lucien immediately, but he was already too far, slipping from her grasp like sand through her fingers. The warmth of his touch, the safety of his embrace, dissolving.
The box loomed larger now, its edges sharp as a blade, its pull undeniable. The world around her shattered like glass.
A sudden splash of cold water hit Elain’s face, yanking her from the depths of the dream. She gasped, her body jerking upright, heart hammering in her chest as she tried to make sense of what had just happened.
Vassa was hovering over her, face tight with concern, and Lethe stood just a bit further away, the sleeves of her dress damp and a satisfied glint in her dark eyes. Elain's heart still raced, her body trembling from the phantom chill of the onyx box, the coldness of it that lingered on her skin like a curse. The dream had been entirely too real for her liking and it was decidedly not one of her own visions.
“What happened?” Elain managed to ask, her voice breathless, dazed. A gentle wind blew, howling softly as it weaved between the forest’s trees. Her curls were wet, hanging limply around her shoulders.
Lethe’s eyes narrowed, looking at Elain as if she were a puzzle meant to solve. “Are these episodes rather normal in the Night Court?”
Elain glanced at her, lifting her chin stubbornly. She sniffed, “I’m not sure what you mean.” Perhaps it was childlike, but there was a part of Elain that was secretly very pleased that Eris had stayed true to his word and had not mentioned her visions to his friend.
Vassa shot Lethe a sharp look, though there was no real venom in the interaction. “I told her to stop throwing water at you,” she said to Elain with an apologetic shrug.
“It woke her up, didn’t it?” The other female snapped, crossing her arms. In a fluid motion, she sat on the cold ground in front of Elain, her skirts a perfect cloud.
Elain wrinkled her nose, an ice cold drop of water making a frozen path along her jaw. She swiped it away with her palm, frustration building up inside her. “This was not a normal dream,” she emphasised, looking at Vassa who would know the underlying meaning of her words.
Lethe snorted, but any harsh remark was cut off by the human queen as she spoke quickly and with purpose.
“All the women here have dreams like that,” her blue eyes were dark as the night sky as she ran a hand through her hair, tugging on a strand for the briefest of moments. Her strong voice dropped to a whisper that only a fae ear could catch without trouble. “Some of them say that sleep belongs to Death’s domain.”
Elain rubbed her temples, trying to bring herself back to the present, but the sensation of the onyx box and the crushing urge to open it lingered.
“I don’t think that’s true,” Lethe muttered in response to Vassa’s comment, a nervous edge to her tone.
Before Elain could retort, the silence around them was shattered by a voice, smooth and chilling, that slithered from the shadows. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”
The words froze the air in the open space, their coldness crawling along Elain’s skin. Her blood ran icy, her heart skipping a beat as she turned slowly, every nerve on edge, to face the forest behind her.
Elain saw him then—emerging from the darkness.
Koschei.
He stood tall, pale skin drawn tight over his bones like something long forgotten and lifeless. His hair was dark, unruly and soft. The curls clung to his shoulders, just a shade darker than the black cloak he wore. His teeth were too sharp, his smile was too wide, too knowing, as if the world itself were a game to him, everything insignificant. It was Koschei’s eyes that truly froze her blood. No whites, only endless blackness, swallowing everything in its path.
Koschei did not move, not at first. He simply studied them with the cold gaze of a predator who had already decided his prey’s fate. When it became clear to him that none of them were about to move, he tilted his head like a lion.
“Comfortable?” Koschei purred, his voice dripping with mockery, but with an edge that was anything but kind. “I trust you find your accommodations... satisfactory?”
Elain stiffened, every muscle in her body tensing, her breath catching in her throat as she fought to maintain control. She could not look away from, could not spare the two women around her a glance.
Elain could feel Vassa inching backwards, coming closer with steps so small they were nearly imperceptible. She could even sense Lethe’s gaze flicking toward the shadows, although she did not appear as shaken as she perhaps felt.
Koschei’s smile stretched even wider, as if he could feel the fear rippling through the room, feeding on it. Slowly, he stepped forward, his movements unnervingly quiet, his feet making no sound as he walked on dried grass and broken twigs. He moved like a shadow, like something that shouldn’t have been there but was.
“I trust you’re well aware that no one knows where you are,” Koschei continued, his voice softening, as if savouring their discomfort.
Elain felt her throat tighten. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words stuck in her chest, lodged there by the weight of his presence.
Koschei turned his attention, facing her entirely with a knowing glint in his eyes. “Tell me, Elain Archeron," he said, his voice low and sweet, like poison in a fine wine. "Do you feel it? That enticing little pull?”
His words were a whisper, but they carried like a scream, wrapping themselves around her mind, twisting it. Elain clenched her fists, fighting the way her entire being ached to bring herself closer to him, to answer his twisted invitation.
Lethe grabbed her arm, sharp nails digging into skin until she drew blood. It was the only thing keeping Elain in place. Vassa breathed in, the sound thunderous.
Koschei turned his head, the only indication that he had moved his attention to the other woman, his smile never wavering. “You know she can’t resist, Queen of Scythia.”
The air shifted again, colder now, charged with something unspoken, something terrible. Koschei’s presence was suffocating, all-consuming. Elain could feel it closing in on her, pushing at the space between her shoulder blades, making it harder to breathe.
“You have no idea what you’ve awoken,” Koschei murmured, his voice carrying a dark promise. “And once the game begins, there’s no escaping it.” He took another step forward, and the shadows seemed to cling to him, moving with him as though they were alive. It reminded her of Azriel, of Velaris, and it instantly made her sick to her stomach.
“You are an intriguing little group,” Koschei continued, his voice smooth, almost pleasant, as though he were indulging them. “The mortal turned high fae, the cursed human queen, and the disgraced Autumn noble. Quite the unlikely assembly, don’t you think? I wonder…” He let the sentence linger in the air like a promise, his eyes glinting with a dark amusement. “Would it be easy to have you all turn on each other in this wretched place?”
Elain’s heart hammered in her chest, his presence bearing down on her, but she forced herself to speak. Her voice was steady, though there was a tremor in it she could not suppress. “What do you want?”
Koschei’s smile curled, slow and amused, his dark eyes never leaving hers as he moved closer. The air around him seemed to chill with every step, like frost creeping along her skin. “What I want,” he purred, his voice rich, velvety, “is something only someone like you—someone not of this world—can obtain.”
Elain’s brow furrowed, confusion clouding her thoughts as she tried to make sense of his cryptic words. “I am of this world,” she said firmly, though even as the words left her mouth, they felt weak, uncertain. An unsettling chill twisted in her stomach.
Koschei’s grin only deepened, a flash of too-white teeth in the dim light. “No, you are not,” he murmured, almost as if to himself, but loud enough for her to hear. His voice carried a teasing, dangerous edge, like he was enjoying some secret she was not yet privy to. “Not truly. You carry something inside you… something that does not belong here.”
His gaze flicked to the shadows around them, and a terrible certainty settled in her gut, like she was standing on the edge of something vast, something dark, and she was about to fall. Koschei turned back to her, his eyes bottomless pits, as if he could see all the way into her soul and she to his.
Her mind scrambled to understand. “What do you mean? I’m not—”
Koschei’s hand moved dismissively through the air, cutting off her words with a casual flick, as if brushing aside a speck of dust. “You may believe you are,” he said, his voice thick with mocking pity, “but you are not.” His smile was sharper now, his eyes gleaming with the satisfaction of a cat toying with its prey.
The space felt colder, heavier, as if his words themselves had frozen the air. Elain’s heart thudded painfully, a frantic beat that seemed to echo in the silence.
Koschei stood still for a long moment, his presence an oppressive force. He turned his head slowly, making it clear that he was turning his gaze from Elain to Vassa, to Lethe, as if considering them.
The silence stretched, suffocating, before he spoke again, his voice low and ominous, a whisper of something dreaded. “I’ll give you time to think on it.” He took a step closer, his form casting a long shadow that seemed to reach out toward them. “Don’t take too long. I’ll return at dawn.” Lethe sneered at his attention, but the unspoken threat between them was as clear as daylight.
A chill settled in Elain’s bones. Her stomach twisted into tight knots, and despite the words she wanted to speak, her throat was dry, her body still.
Koschei lingered for a moment longer, and without another word, he turned, his movements fluid and soundless, as if the very shadows were swallowing him whole.
As he disappeared into the darkness, Elain exhaled shakily. She knew it was as clear to Vassa and Lethe as it was to her, there was no escape.
Elain had no choice but to face whatever game Koschei had set in motion.
Notes:
thank you to everyone still following along <3
Chapter 34: Part XXXIII
Notes:
this chapter has taken me so long to just sit down and edit, thank you a million times over to everyone who is still following along and to those who took the time to comment!!! your kind words motivated me to continue writing and outlining <3
Chapter Text
The air inside the temple had grown too still.
Lucien stood motionless beneath the great wooden arch, its pale beams shaped from ancient trunks harvested centuries before. Open and lovely, he had hoped that the gentle breeze twisting between the columns would calm some of his nerves. The carvings of the Mother and the Cauldron curled up the pillars like ivy, weathered smooth by centuries of reverent hands. Crimson leaves had drifted inside, catching in the corners of the stone steps, vivid against the pale wood like spilled blood.
He frowned, adjusting the cuff of his jacket.
Lucien’s golden eye clicked softly as he scanned the gathered crowd. Dozens of nobles from every corner of Autumn, their finery brushed in earthy tones, made it so that the Inner Circle stood out awkwardly, uncomfortably.
The silence of the forest stretched outward, pressing at the edge of his mind. Even the wind had gone quiet, as though the trees themselves were holding their breath.
Where was Elain?
He could feel her faintly, like a flickering candle, just fine.
He swept his gaze over the crowd again. Cora stood near the front of the guests, mouth pressed into a tight line, just behind his mother. Callum stood beside her, visibly alert now, eyes scanning the woods as if he too sensed that something was out of place. Felix had broken from them, pushing past a group of guests who moved to make a narrow path for him, the tension in his shoulders unmistakable.
Ronan was noticeably absent.
Drinking.
Lucien told himself it was simply to be expected, had noticed stumbling steps and slurred words all too often in the past fortnight to brush all other warning thoughts aside.
“She's late,” Feyre murmured from her place just next to the alter, just loud enough for him to hear, shifting nervously on her feet.
Lucien did not answer. He felt the tension ripple through the members of the Night Court. Rhys’s violet eyes swept the shadows, assessing, as he inched impossibly closer to his High Lady. Cassian’s wings shifted, but Lucien’s attention snagged on Nesta.
She stood as if anchored, spine rigid. Her silver gaze kept drifting to the woods. Her expression was unreadable, but something in her eyes flashed, discomfort and something that bordered on recognition. She had not stopped frowning since they had arrived.
Lucien felt as a shiver crawled up his spine, his feet heavy as he walked down the steps of the altar. He turned his head at the gasp that seemed to force itself from deep within Cora’s chest. The sound unleashed a wave of nervous murmurs in the large temple, ones he could barely hear over the sound of his rapidly beating heart.
Lucien had never noticed such an absence of sound in the forest, unnerving and unnatural, and he knew that the rest of the guests were beginning to sense a shift in the ancient woods.
Lucien pressed a hand over his chest, where the bond began to thrum. His magic stirred uneasily, and he barely saw in front of him as panic washed over him and he tried to reach his mother.
Elain.
Lucien had been so sure that he had only thought of her, that her name had only echoed in his skull. He had not been expecting someone to respond.
“She won’t be joining us,” the High Lord of Autumn said calmly, stepping right into Lucien’s line of sight. Beron emerged from the rear of the temple like a shadow made flesh. His velvet jacket clung to his broad frame, deep crimson embroidered in golden thread so fine it shimmered like firelight. A circlet of twisted gold sat atop his brow, catching the glow of the dim lanterns.
Everyone in the large space seemed to hold their breath, even the Night Court stayed rooted in place, watching. In Beron’s domain, deep within the heart of Autumn, even Rhysand was not evenly matched with Prythian’s oldest High Lord.
Lucien’s fingers moved to find the hilt of his blade before he realized he was reaching for something that was not there.
Beron’s face was impassive, the perfect example of a regal and composed courtier. “Such a shame,” he said softly, as if lamenting a small misfortune. “Though, I suppose every court needs its tragedies.”
Lucien stepped forward slowly, like approaching a wild animal in the dark. “Where is she?”
Beron’s mouth twitched into a smile that did not quite reach his eyes. “Gone.”
The word struck like a blow, whip sharp.
“Father,” Lucien growled, the word a curse. When Beron rolled his dark eyes, it took centuries of practice to hold back a wince. “Father—”
“You never understood,” the High Lord interrupted. “Not really. You thought power was in courts and alliances. In promises and bloodlines. But power, Lucien, is older than that.”
Lucien stepped forward, voice dropping to a rasp.“Where’s my mate?”
He already knew, would have bet his life on the answer as all of the pieces slowly but surely fell into place.
Beron’s expression softened, his shoulders lifting in an elegant shrug. “With someone who will make use of her gifts.”
Koschei.
Lucien felt the bond jerk violently, like someone had grabbed it on the other end and pulled . The pain was sharp, wrong.
A low noise escaped Lucien’s throat. Half-growl, half-breath.
“She’s Made,” Beron said simply. “Do you think I didn’t notice it? That this was a secret you could all keep from me?” A small, mocking pause. “Your brother didn’t even realize what he’d delivered to our door.”
Lucien’s blood ran cold.
Eris.
Only moments before, he would have considered Elain safe at his eldest brother’s side, had assumed that there was a growing trust between them.
“Where’s Eris?” Lucien asked, afraid to hear that it was just one more betrayal added to his ever growing list and yet afraid to hear otherwise.
Beron frowned, pain etched briefly onto his stern features, the most genuine expression Lucien had ever seen on his father’s face. “He won’t be joining us either.”
There was a sharp intake of breath from somewhere behind Lucien, the rustling of heavy skirts as someone moved suddenly. Panic.
Lucien could not imagine a world without Eris, cold and harsh and awful and still his favourite brother despite everything. The ground beneath his feet seemed to tilt. “Eris is—”
“Eris was my greatest disappointment,” Beron said, stepping to the center of the altar, a cruel glint in his eyes as they landed on his wife. “Too much like his mother.”
The words burned through Lucien’s chest. “So you allied with Koschei,” he said, breath ragged. “You gave him Elain, and betrayed all of Autumn.”
“I saved us from irrelevance,” Beron answered calmly. “Do you think Rhysand would have let us hold power once peace reigned? That the Night Court wouldn’t have turned its attention on us next? Spring is nearly theirs already.”
Lucien shook his head, but he understood. That was the worst part, he saw it, just for a moment, through his father’s eyes.
Nesta flinched. Her silver gaze glistened, fixed on Beron.
“I felt this,” she whispered. “The moment I stepped into these woods. This… rot.”
Beron offered her a pleased smile. But his next words were for Feyre and Rhysand. “The Hewn City. Velaris. Both will make fine additions to my court.”
Night was exposed.
Spring was undefended.
As the realisation dawned on Lucien, every lantern in the temple flared, then shattered. Flames extinguished and shards of glass rained to the ground in sparkling fragments. Nobles began to panic, birds ready to take flight, and Lucien heard as Callum tried to maintain some semblance of order.
All of it in vain as figures began to emerge between the trees, silent as falling ash.
At first they looked like soldiers, but then Lucien saw the truth.
Corpses.
Armour half-rotted, flesh hanging in strips, faces leering with eyeless sockets. They dragged swords, scratched and dark with use, their footsteps leaving more rot in their wake. Some rode skeletal beasts, horses with empty rib cages and stags with blackened bone for antlers.
Hundreds, marching in absolute silence, toward the temple.
The guests screamed, magic flared and the ground seemed to shake. Rhysand vanished in a whisper of night, Feyre clutched to his chest, no doubt back to Velaris and to Nyx. Nesta’s power surged around her, ancient and silver, shuddering the stone and wood of the temple.
Lucien turned to face the High Lord of Autumn, eyes wide with horror, but he too had disappeared without warning.
Lucien ran with the wave of nobles as they shoved their way out of the sacred place of worship, watching as the corpses closed in around the ancient building. He reached for the bond again as he stumbled on the steps outside, hoping for any sort of response from Elain.
An army of undead closed in around the temple, trapping the nobles like fish in a pond, and Lucien could not breathe, choking on the scent of their approach.
He searched for Tamlin, for Cora, for one of his brothers in the panicked crowd, and saw no one.
Defeat began to seep its way into his bones, and Lucien looked up at the sky.
There was not a single star, only a thick, rolling darkness creeping across the moon.
Chapter 35: Part XXXIV
Chapter Text
The shadows lingered even after Koschei left, thick and oppressive, as if they had roots of their own. The air was still, like the world was waiting for something inevitable to happen. Elain could feel it deep in her bones, the weight of the night pressing against her, suffocating.
Even as the moonlight flickered and shifted through the trees, stretching pale fingers across the ground, the shadows remained, creeping along the roots and through the air.
Elain sat still, hands clenched in her lap. She did not look at Lethe or Vassa. Not when her mind was still tangled in the remnants of the dream, Koschei’s words ringing in her ears. The dream that had stolen her breath and left her cold, hollow, and unsure of what was real. The dream where the box had pulled at her, calling to her as if it knew something deep inside her.
The silence stretched out, thick and unyielding. A chill wound its way down her spine, and she had to fight the urge to look over her shoulder, as though someone was just behind her.
She could not let herself fall into the grasp of that fear, knew that her life depended on it.
“There was a box,” Elain’s voice broke the quiet, too soft, fragile, like she was speaking against some force that might shatter her if she did not tread carefully. “In my dream.”
Lethe’s voice came clipped from the dark. “What box?”
Elain kept her gaze low, her hands twisting in her lap. She could feel Lethe’s eyes on her, sharp as knives, but there was nothing cruel in her expression. "I think… it wasn’t just a dream,” she said slowly, the words like stones in her mouth. “It felt too real. The way it called to me. The box… it wasn’t like anything I’ve seen before."
Vassa shifted beside her, her copper hair catching the silver moonlight, an eerie glow to it. Her voice was measured, steady. “Tell us everything.”
She took a breath, the taste of fear sharp on her tongue. She pushed the image of the box into her mind.
“It was small. Black,” Elain’s voice trembled. “Perfectly smooth. There was a silver lock on it that kept shifting. It wasn’t… from here. It felt wrong. Like it belonged to something older, something that should’ve stayed forgotten. And when I touched it… it burned, but not with heat. It was cold, like it was hungry, like it wanted something from me. Or like… it wanted me to give something to it.”
Lethe scoffed under her breath, a low, mocking sound. “So then it’s an ancient cursed artifact, and you thought it was a good idea to touch it?” She raised a brow, her tone flat. “Brilliant.”
Elain swallowed, fighting the sting of her words. She was right, but the box had called to her, and she had allowed herself to listen to the pull of it.
“I didn’t—” Elain cut herself off. Her breath hitched. “I didn’t mean to. It just... it was like I couldn’t stop.”
“Next time, stop,” Lethe said bluntly, leaning forward, her eyes flashing dark with something unspoken. “You can't just let things pull at you, Elain.”
“I know,” Elain whispered, voice barely audible over the crackling of the fire. “But it’s not just a dream. It felt real. Vassa said it, sleep is death’s domaine. He… he told me I wasn’t of this world.”
Lethe rolled her eyes with an exaggerated sigh, but there was something beneath the irritation. A flicker of concern. “Koschei. Now he’ll be visiting us even in sleep.” She paused, then leaned back against the cold earth, eyes narrowing in thought. “You’re sure it wasn’t just your mind playing tricks on you?”
Elain shook her head, her chest tight. “No. This isn’t like anything I’ve ever seen before. The box… it was like it knew something about me. Something I don’t even know. Like it was meant for me. Or one of my sisters.
“Of course. The Archeron sisters, the Mother’s favourite playthings.”
Vassa glared at the Autumn Court noble and Elain simply continued.
But I—” She stopped herself. “I think it’s the key to Koschei’s prison. To the lake.”
Lethe’s expression darkened in an instant. “You’re telling me that the thing you touched in a dream is the key to free him?”
Elain nodded, the weight of it crushing her chest. “Yes. And if he gets to it, if I open it…” She couldn’t finish. The thought of it, of what Koschei would do once he was free, sent a shiver of terror down her spine.
Vassa straightened, her posture stiff. “So we stop him. Before that happens.”
“Excellent idea, your majesty, I wish I’d thought of that myself,” Lethe mumbled.
Elain’s eyes flickered to Lethe. "That dream, it wasn’t just a warning. He’s trying to get me to open that box.”
Lethe looked at her, silent for a long moment. The expression on her face softened, just a fraction, though her eyes remained hard. “Good thing we’re here to stop you from doing anything ridiculous.”
Elain nodded, gratitude swelling in her chest, but it was quickly drowned out by the cold fear that had taken root in her gut. “But what if I don’t have a choice?” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“We make sure you do,” Vassa replied, her voice unwavering, the weight of her words settling over the small group. “We keep you safe. And we keep him locked up.”
Even as she spoke, Elain’s mind wandered, back to the lake, back to the pull of the box, and to the strange, haunting presence that had lingered at the edges of her dream.
“I think he’s going to use it,” Elain said quietly. “Use me.”
“We need to stay together,” Vassa said. “Watch each other’s backs.”
Lethe shrugged, brushing invisible dirt from her dress. “Fine. But if he shows up again, I say we throw Elain at him.”
Elain met her gaze, brow raised. “You’d still be here.”
Lethe smiled, honest in a way the brighetened her face. “Worth a try.”
Elain returned the smile, shoving her softly, as if she would a friend.
Vassa broke the moment of peace with a deep sigh. “If the box is real, and if Koschei needs Elain to open it, then at least we know he’s not free yet. We still have time.”
“Not much,” Elain whispered. She wrapped her arms around herself, teeth sinking into her lower lip. “He said he’d return at dawn.”
A silence fell over them, broken only by the wind whistling through the white trees.
Elain’s mind drifted to the lake, could feel the water at her back even now, its cold gaze watching her like a predator watched prey.
Something waiting.
Elain fell against the grass and closed her eyes.
Just for a moment.
The lake was lovely.
No wind stirred its surface. No ripple dared disturb its perfect stillness. Above, the moon hung enormous, a heavy thing pressed too close to the sky, casting a pale, eerie light that glowed across the water.
Elain stood barefoot at the centre, though she had no memory of walking there.
The water held her. No sensation. No cold. Just the faintest pressure beneath her soles, like standing on a puddle.
Around her, the world was still. Trees lined the distant shore in skeletal outlines, unmoving. The sky above was wrong, the stars unfamiliar, twisted into constellations that hummed at the edges of her memory, as if someone had rewritten the sky in a language she might have known.
When the onyx box appeared, Elain was almost expecting it.
Smooth. Blacker than shadow. Suspended just above the lake’s surface like the world itself had placed it there.
One blink, and it had appeared.
Perfect. Seamless. A little larger than a jewelry box, but not by much. The surface caught no light. The faint, silvery vines curled along its surface were not etched or carved, they moved. Shifted like snakes hiding in long grass.
It waited for her.
“Elain.”
Her name cut through the silence like a sharpened blade.
She turned, and her stomach dropped.
Eris.
He stood on the edge of the lake, half-hidden in shadow. His skin was too pale, leeched of warmth. Blood soaked the front of his shirt, staining the rich brown fabric of his waistcoat in deep, wet crimson. It oozed from a gaping wound in the center of his chest, Beron’s wound, the blade she had seen driven into him, each time flashing in her memory when she closed her eyes.
His steps toward her were slow, deliberate. Blood dripped steadily with each one, hitting the lake’s surface without sound, vanishing into its mirrored depths.
“Elain,” he said again, his voice rough, cracked like scorched earth. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, making a perfect path along his jaw before it fell against his collar.
She could not move.
“You watched,” he said, stopping just in front of her. “You stood there. You let it happen.”
Her lips parted, but no sound came out.
“I needed you,” he rasped. “And you did nothing.”
“I froze,” she finally managed, her voice barely audible. “I—I didn’t know—”
He lifted his hand.
For a moment Elain wondered if Eris was going to push her.
Instead, his blood-slicked fingers brushed her own, then slid down to her palm. He took her hand like she was something fragile, something he might have once protected. His touch was warm and wet. The blood clung instantly to her skin, slipping into the creases of her hand, painting the lifeline of her palm in crimson.
“I’m so sorry, Eris,” she whispered. She looked down and saw the red soaking deeper. Spreading. The stain sank into her skin. No matter how she flexed her fingers, it would not dry.
“You can make it right,” he said.
Her head snapped up. “What?”
“You can bring me back,” Eris choked on his own blood. There were sparks in his amber eyes. “Open the box.”
Elain took a step back. “No.”
“Yes.” His voice softened, persuasive. “You were meant to.”
“I can’t.” Her voice cracked. “You’re not—Eris wouldn’t—”
“Wouldn’t what?” His face twisted slightly. “Wouldn’t beg you to fix what you broke?”
“I didn’t mean to—”
“I trusted you.”
Her stomach clenched. Lucien’s face flashed in her mind.
“I’m sorry,” she said again, close to tears.
“Don’t be sorry,” came the answer, too smooth, too calm. “Be useful.”
The voice had changed, unfamiliar. When she looked up to face Eris, his eyes had turned black. Gone were the gold and flame. In their place was a void, depthless and wrong. His face cracked at the corners, mouth too wide, blood dribbling down his chin.
“You know me,” he said, his voice suddenly too many voices at once. Male and female, old and young, familiar and strange. “And I know you. I know what you’re capable of.”
The box pulsed behind her. A slow, steady thrum in her bones.
“You can’t shut it out,” the voice continued. “You can’t shut me out.”
Eris stepped forward again and took both her hands now, holding them up between them. Blood smeared across her skin like paint. The box responded, rising, hovering behind her now like a second moon. “Open it.”
Elain shook her head, tried to pull away, yanked her hands roughly so that he would let go.
“I said,” he growled, and now his voice was wholly Koschei’s, “open it.”
Elain gasped and sat bolt upright.
The cold wind whipped hair around her face, waking her quickly.
She was back in the clearing. The moon nearly gone, casting a weak halo around the sleeping forms beside her.
Lethe lay on her side, back turned. One hand gripping a surprisingly sharp rock.
Vassa slept with her head against Elain’s thigh, her copper hair spilled like flame across her skirts.
They were alone for the moment.
Elain looked down, breathing a sigh of relief, and froze.
Blood.
It clung to her fingers in thick smears, drying already beneath her nails. Not imagined. Not fading like dreams usually did. The coppery scent of it hit her a second later, and her breath hitched.
Her hands trembled as she turned them over slowly, palms up. The stains were concentrated in the lines of her palm and knuckles, exactly where he had touched her. Where Eris’s warm, bleeding hands had closed around hers.
Not Eris, she reminded herself.
Koschei.
A mask of someone familiar, someone trusted, using his skin and his voice.
Elain’s breath came shallow. Her pulse raced under her skin, hot and panicked.
Her first instinct was to rub it off, scrub it away. She reached for the edge of her skirts, dragging the stained white fabric across her palms. The blood only smeared onto her wedding dress.
She bit down hard on her lip to keep from making a sound.
Vassa shifted against her thigh.
Elain paused.
The warmth of Vassa’s head, so trustingly placed there, so unaware of what might be happening even now inside Elain, grounded her. It was weight, and warmth, and safety. Something real in a world that did not feel like hers anymore.
Elain could not wake them, not yet, she decided.
Lethe was curled so tightly she looked carved from stone. Elain could hardly guess at the last time Vassa had slept. They needed rest.
Elain turned her head slightly and looked at the rising light beyond the trees. The sun had not broken yet, but dawn was bleeding in, pale and hesitant.
Eris’s mouth, red with blood.
Lucien’s name echoed in her head and Elain curled her stained hands into fists and pressed them against her sternum as if she could shove the memories back down.
A tear fell, splashing onto the back of her hand, darkening the blood there for a moment before it vanished into it.
Elain turned her body just slightly, careful not to disturb Vassa, and curled inward. Her stained hands tucked beneath her arms, hidden.
Her forehead pressed against her knees.
Elain cried.
Not loudly, not with the sobs she could feel building up inside her.
Just tears.
Falling, falling, falling.
Pages Navigation
Litfanatic on Chapter 1 Thu 09 May 2024 03:28PM UTC
Comment Actions
clockwork_ashes on Chapter 1 Fri 10 May 2024 12:23AM UTC
Comment Actions
Summerwinds_06 on Chapter 1 Fri 10 May 2024 02:40AM UTC
Comment Actions
clockwork_ashes on Chapter 1 Fri 10 May 2024 03:10AM UTC
Comment Actions
the_darkestminds on Chapter 1 Fri 24 May 2024 05:16PM UTC
Comment Actions
clockwork_ashes on Chapter 1 Fri 24 May 2024 07:13PM UTC
Comment Actions
MissFreakingFortune on Chapter 1 Tue 04 Jun 2024 04:00AM UTC
Comment Actions
MissFreakingFortune on Chapter 1 Tue 04 Jun 2024 04:03AM UTC
Comment Actions
clockwork_ashes on Chapter 1 Tue 04 Jun 2024 04:39AM UTC
Comment Actions
Cee_Darling (Cee_darling) on Chapter 1 Mon 17 Jun 2024 03:34AM UTC
Comment Actions
clockwork_ashes on Chapter 1 Mon 17 Jun 2024 01:25PM UTC
Comment Actions
Jules_Writes_Stories on Chapter 1 Thu 04 Jul 2024 02:24PM UTC
Comment Actions
clockwork_ashes on Chapter 1 Thu 04 Jul 2024 06:14PM UTC
Comment Actions
DrawntoLight on Chapter 1 Sun 04 Aug 2024 03:21PM UTC
Comment Actions
clockwork_ashes on Chapter 1 Sun 04 Aug 2024 03:56PM UTC
Comment Actions
Janagirl123 on Chapter 1 Sun 29 Sep 2024 07:48AM UTC
Comment Actions
Finnijer on Chapter 1 Sat 18 Jan 2025 01:31PM UTC
Comment Actions
clockwork_ashes on Chapter 1 Sat 18 Jan 2025 11:45PM UTC
Comment Actions
Finnijer on Chapter 1 Sat 18 Jan 2025 01:37PM UTC
Comment Actions
clockwork_ashes on Chapter 1 Sun 19 Jan 2025 03:54AM UTC
Comment Actions
olenvasynyt on Chapter 1 Sat 22 Feb 2025 10:23PM UTC
Comment Actions
clockwork_ashes on Chapter 1 Thu 06 Mar 2025 01:35AM UTC
Comment Actions
FrostyStarlight on Chapter 1 Mon 11 Aug 2025 12:41PM UTC
Comment Actions
clockwork_ashes on Chapter 1 Wed 13 Aug 2025 11:21AM UTC
Comment Actions
lauberry on Chapter 2 Fri 10 May 2024 03:47AM UTC
Comment Actions
clockwork_ashes on Chapter 2 Fri 10 May 2024 04:40AM UTC
Comment Actions
lauberry on Chapter 2 Fri 10 May 2024 06:39AM UTC
Comment Actions
clockwork_ashes on Chapter 2 Fri 10 May 2024 11:34AM UTC
Comment Actions
wilde_knight on Chapter 2 Sat 18 May 2024 05:49PM UTC
Comment Actions
clockwork_ashes on Chapter 2 Sat 18 May 2024 06:20PM UTC
Comment Actions
MissFreakingFortune on Chapter 2 Tue 04 Jun 2024 03:58PM UTC
Comment Actions
clockwork_ashes on Chapter 2 Wed 05 Jun 2024 01:20AM UTC
Comment Actions
Cee_Darling (Cee_darling) on Chapter 2 Mon 17 Jun 2024 03:51AM UTC
Comment Actions
clockwork_ashes on Chapter 2 Mon 17 Jun 2024 01:26PM UTC
Comment Actions
Jules_Writes_Stories on Chapter 2 Thu 04 Jul 2024 07:53PM UTC
Comment Actions
clockwork_ashes on Chapter 2 Thu 04 Jul 2024 10:17PM UTC
Comment Actions
chiefenthusiastwitch on Chapter 2 Sun 08 Sep 2024 07:49PM UTC
Comment Actions
clockwork_ashes on Chapter 2 Sun 08 Sep 2024 08:26PM UTC
Comment Actions
Frawst_disasta on Chapter 2 Sat 16 Nov 2024 04:34AM UTC
Comment Actions
clockwork_ashes on Chapter 2 Sat 16 Nov 2024 06:46PM UTC
Comment Actions
Pages Navigation