#Jurian is a menace

[areyoudreaminof]

Pork and Beans: WIP

In which Jurian tells Elain’s pet pig he’s going to eat her.

Lucien heard the shrieking beneath his feet before he saw anything. Looking down at the mud, a small pink piglet screamed at his boots. Her rump was covered in caked dirt as she posed to strike, her curly little tail thumping away. The piglet bucked on its haunches and zoomed around his legs with fury.

They didn’t have a pig, he was absolutely sure of that.

Dodging the squealing little demon, he shook off his muddy boots. “Would someone be so kind as to explain to me why there is a piglet in the yard?” Lucien asked the moment he crossed the threshold.

Elain and Jurian looked up from the papers spread out on the table. Elain’s eyes were wide with something like guilt, while Jurian’s lips were spread into a shit eating grin.

“So you’ve met Beanie, huh?” Jurian asked with a maniacal breath.

“If that’s the pig squealing in the mud, then yes I’ve met Beanie.” Lucien said, stunned. “But what’s it doing here?”

“We’re not calling her Beanie!” Elain snapped.

Jurian snorted, “Sure we are, because we’re going to eat her with beans.”

Elain huffed and tossed her hair and grumbled something. Lucien, still slack jawed, stood in the kitchen waiting for an explanation.

“You remember Lady Brighton? The widow who’s providing a fleet and has been using her sons to smuggle Scythian’s out of prison? Well, her grandson raises pigs, and he very kindly gave us one. We’re going to fatten her up and eat her.” Jurian said, smacking his lips for effect, “Some juicy, crispy bacon with eggs.”

Elain spun with fury, “We are not eating her. I am going to train her to hunt for mushrooms. Pigs are some of the most intelligent creatures!”

“Bacon also goes great with mushrooms.” Jurian shot back.

“Did someone say bacon?” Vassa’s voice beat her to the kitchen as she entered, wide eyed. “I haven’t had bacon in months.”

“Give it a few more months and we will have a whole store of bacon, my Queen.” Jurian said with a smug grin and a wink.

Elain turned her nose up, steadying her breathing as she put her hands on her hips. “There will be no bacon unless you go buy it somewhere else! Poppy is off limits.”

“Oh no, not a name! You actually didn’t name the food supply!” Jurian howled with laughter while Vassa swayed between them, deciding whose side she should take. Lucien still stood in the kitchen, utterly confused as Elain stopped past him into the yard where she began to coo at the little piglet.

“It is cute,” Vassa said with some uncertainty, “and pigs are quite smart.”

“Piglets are cute,” Jurian said with an air of false authority, “but pigs are tasty when they’re full grown. Honey bacon and beans over a fire?” The Mad General sighed like a boy in love.

“I should go check on Elain,” Lucien mumbled as he shuffled towards the back door once again.

The cool summer breeze met him again as he found Elain sitting cross legged on the muddy ground, the little piglet in her arms, scratching it’s neck. The little piglets eyes were closed in ecstasy, its curly tail wiggling as Elain mumbled to it.

“Aren’t you just the sweetest thing? We won’t eat you.”

Lucien knelt beside her, kissing her neck. “I know we had planned to wait, but I suppose we’re pig parents now.” he teased as he gave the pig a little scratch. The animal gave a satisfied little snort, and Lucien could swear he could see a smile on its face.

“Jurian is an idiot,” Elain huffed, “he actually giggled when Colin brought him over, and said she smelled tasty. Poor boy looked like he was going to cry. Send him over to Tamlin, it would do him some good.”

“Jurian would eat every morsel in the Spring Court,” Lucien laughed, still scratching the wiry white fur on the piglets neck. “Not much of a punishment.”

“Then I’ll put him on compost duty,” she sniffed daintily.

[flowerflamestars]

Effloresce Snippet

He kissed both her cheeks, bending even lower to raise Nesta’s right hand, pressing her cold knuckles to his brow in solemn salute. “Nesta Archeron,” Jurian said, like her name was twice its length, a foreign weighted history, “You ready to know whose blood runs in your veins?” Nesta, who had lived this particular conversation thrice over now, only shook her head. Touched between his brows in curious, only half-understood benediction, allowing him to step away. “Jurian. You survived the fires.” His smile was only in his eyes, rainwater grey searingly bright. “You wouldn’t waste time sending messages to corpses.” Nadia, from where she’d stopped three swaggering paces into the room, shedding her coat and swords with utterly false carelessness, huffed out a rough laugh. It was a bizarre comfort to see her, unchanged- strong brown hands dense with tattoos that bloomed into looser patterns up her arms, those knives and that hideous leather vest, remnants of a life that seemed nearly simple, now. So very far away. She cast a scathing look at Nesta’s guard, the Illyrian busy visibly wishing murder upon Jurian, his entire focus held on the distance between their bodies. “Protection has gotten more interesting,” she said, tone blithe, “Where’s your Vanserra?” “Honeymoon.” Nesta let herself lean back onto the desk, hand behind her body biting into its ash lip. Dawn, Winter, reconnaissance. Elain walking underhill in mortal wedding pearls, Lucien at her back. A heaved sigh, Jurian’s head oh so briefly dipped. “Wars and weddings, my lady. Blessings.” “When you were our age, humans couldn’t marry.” “Nor does he believe in any damned gods,” Nadia crossed the room fae quick, expression wicked as the guard flinched, stopping right alongside Nesta. A test, twofold- Nesta didn’t pull a knife as Nadia had once taught her, the legionnaire didn’t start in on violence without orders. “Don’t believe the prayers, unless they’re bloody.”

[vulpes-fennec]

Jurian emerging from the Cauldron after being an eyeball for 500 years

[coeurdelain]

Thinking about Feyre asking to Rhys in ACOWAR if he think that Lucien and Elain will match together and Rhys replied that Lucien was loyal.

And Feyre said so is Azriel.

And then, in ACOSF, Mor said that Lucien can’t be trusted anymore even with Elain here because he’s friend with Vassa and Jurian.

And that its reports can be unbiased because of Vassa.

So the quality who could make Lucien a good mate for Elain is no longer valid anymore.

Lucien’s loyalty is directed to another woman now even if he’s mated to Elain.

On the other side, there is Azriel who is always here for Elain.

How many times he’s ready to risk it all for Elain ? A lot. (Btw, It will always make me laugh people who say there is no elriel proofs in ACOSF, this book literally show Azriel being a menace every time Elain could be in danger).

He helped her, he stayed with her, he rescued her, he protected her, he defended her.

He would even accept a blood duel for her.

Azriel is loyal to Elain.

He’s not even thinking about Mor anymore like we can see in the BC when Rhys asked « what about Mor ? ». and Azriel had no reaction

While Lucien is still close to Vassa. And he’s loyal to her.

When Azriel is ready to risk it all for Elain, Lucien is ready to risk it all for Vassa.

So, Rhys is right, be loyal to her mate is a great quality to be a good mate.

Unfortunately, Lucien no longer fits in this category regarding Elain.

He has Vassa now. She’s his priority.

But for Azriel, Elain comes first.

And it’s another reason why Elriel is superior.

It’s a romance serie and the man place another woman above « his mate » ?

No thank you. In romance, I like when the man character is ready to risk it all and loyal only to his love interest.

[helion-ism]

need someone in the acotar world to ride hard for elucien actually. feyre is meh, nesta is a difficult topic but there is a chance after acotar. cassian maybe? is it gonna be eris?

jurian and vassa would be a menace to poor lucien lmao

[writtenonreceipts]

I saw this on Twitter and I can't stop imagining it, so I thought I'd send it to you 💕💕 In case you feel some inspiration you could do a one-shot (Imagine rhysand calls the emissary from some territory to his office to fix some things but the emissary got interested in him and thinks uhu let's be alone now, then she goes into the office and sees the huge painting of rhysand's wife staring at her)

i hope you like this? idk how i feel about it...

find my masterlist here

warnings: none

.*.*.*.*.*.

Picture Perfect

The portrait appeared from nowhere.

One day the wall behind his desk was bare wood paneling that had been imported from Autumn over a hundred years ago and the next Rhys entered his office to find his wife staring down at him. 

The artwork was exquisite of course.  Everything Feyre did was remarkable.  For the past decade or so, she’d been using her art in an exploratory way.  From the therapy session with the citizens of Velaris to traveling to the different Courts to capture their own unique people and landscapes—Feyre had been growing her talent.  And he loved her for it.

Still, he had not been expecting to walk straight into his office that morning to find her baring down at him.  Even through the paint Rhys could see the amusement Feyre had added to her eyes, the small tilt of her mouth in a smirk and the golden hues of her hair.  She’d never liked doing self-portraits, even with all of his inquiries for one.  Either he’d annoyed her enough in the last few years or she was trying something new.

It didn’t quite matter to him when this was the result. Seeing his mate in her element and enjoying her art made it all worth it.

Rhys was seated in his office going over paperwork relating to new trade routes that they were trying to establish with the human lands. Vassa had long settled into her role as Queen and given her reputation as the Firebird combined with Jurian’s propensity for...violence...the mortals easily accepted them.

Rhys wished Feyre were still in Velaris, but Elain had recently had her first baby so Feyre and Nyx in tow went to Day Court to coo over the new addition. Nyx was mostly eager to try and win all his cousins over to the cause of xxx.

The new routes would require a stop through Spring which Rhys wasn't eager about. The new emissary, while eager, could be a bit over bearing in her work. Ever since Lucien’s true parentage had been revealed the former Vanserra was called back to Day where he was busy learning from his father in courtly duties.

"My Lord?" Ceriddwen appeared at the door to Rhysand’s office. The wraith shadowy black hair was pulled back into a long braid, her simple dress practically dissolving into shadow.

"Yes? WHT happened?" He looked up from the current map he was trying to make sense of.

Cerridwen pauses as though contemplating what to say. "Well, the Spring Court emissary is here. Emissary Nadia Verone."

Rhys tried and failed to hide his feelings about that. Again. Would this emissary never be satisfied?

Cerridwen smirked at his response. "If I may high lord? You are as your mate would say, simply irresistible. "

Snorting Rhys stood from his chair and adjusted his jacket.

"Hilarious," Rhys murmured. "Fine. Is she in the Foyer?"

Cerridwen nodded.

"Thank you," he said. The wraith immediately vanished.

Rhys ran a hand through his hair and then tugged on the bond. All he got was a shot of ten-year-old Nyx laying in the floor next to a rather chubby baby with a head of fiercely red curls. It was followed up by a wistful sigh from his mate.

Darling, he sent to her.

I forgot how cute babies are, she sent back to him.

Yes, they're adorable, we can make another when you get back. Darling, he tried to draw her attention back to the question he had now but was interrupted by a very specific tug on the bond that had him pausing in the hall to collect himself.

Menace.

Feyre only chuckled through the bond in response. He should not have been surprised.

He made it to the foyer where waited the spring court emissary. Nadia Verone was a lesser fae who had grown up in spring court. She was willows with long limbs and a thin face. Her dark brown hair matched her near obsidian eyes. Rhys had had a few dealings with her father, a decently ranking fae of the court. One would assume that Appointing Nadia to the emissary position had been a smart choice. However, he problem was that she was rather young. And she was rather...flirtatious. he had seen her on occasion at various at feasts or events bustling around with her friends tittering on the gossip ring.

Perhaps it was simply an approach as being an emissary or perhaps it was simply who she was. But Rhys had long decided that the females gaze lingered too long on him and she always found herself around him when Feyre wasn't around.

"Emissary, " Rhys greeted, "how can I help."

"High Lord, " Nadia responded. She gave a seeing bow and smiled a bit like a cat on the hint. "Thank you for seeing me."

"What is the problem?" He asked. Better to get this over with as quickly as possible.

"Lord Tamlin needs and update on the trade routes," Nadia said, she tucked her arms behind her back in an innocent sort of way.

Rhys found himself doubting the need for the update. Tamlin and he avoided one another as much as possible, even though emissary contacts. Rhys said he would have the signed forms delivered by the end of the week. He still had five days.

"Really?" Rhys mused, he kept his aloof mask of high lord in place, betraying nothing.

Nadia nodded absently as she twirled a lock of hair around a finger. She'd not come dressed in usual emissary garb: no simple tunic and pants, rather she'd chosen to wear a dress of a gossamer fabric. It was something far more akin to what Elain had worn in her time in Night.

"Yes, he's been undertaken a bit more in rebuilding the human lands and the timeliness has moves up." Nadia smiled innocently and Rhys new she was lying.

If such a big change happened Tamlin would write him or force Lucien to pick up one more act as spring emissary. He wouldn't have a youngling deliver the news. And not like this.

"I can show you the trade routes he'd like to use.”  Nadia was already moving past Rhys to head back towards his office.

“Perhaps,” Rhys tried to direct the emissary back towards him, but she didn’t listen.

Fine then.  

Rhys stuffed his hands in his pockets and trailed after her.  He didn’t quite know what she was getting at--it really wasn’t like Tamlin to play games like this by sending one of his emissaries to flirt their way through a Court.  And the Night Court had maintained a certain reputation between the High Lord and Lady.

“Emissary Verone,” Rhys called as he walked behind her. “I’m sure if High Lord Tamlin was this concerned over the trade routes, he would have sent word over at our last meeting.”

Nadia paused just outside of the office door, hands clasped politely behind her back. “Oh, but he just sent word to me.  Very new and everything given how things are developing with the mortal Queen.  Her first child just turned five and she’s been making changes in her laws of succession and security for their kingdom.  She can be...hard to work with.”

Only to those who didn’t know her.

Rhys merely raised a brow and opened his office door. “Vassa is a capable leader.  She’s worked tirelessly for her people, and ours.”

“Oh, of course,” Nadia agreed as she brushed a bit too close Rhys.  One of her hands passed absently along his chest, the touch a bit too familiar.

He really wanted Feyre here.

“I meant nothing by it,” Nadia continued as she entered the office. “She certainly doesn’t have the experience or capabilities as some--”

Nadia’s voice cut off abruptly as something caught her attention.

Rhys moved around the side of his desk and was about to take a seat when he noticed Nadia’s distraction.  He glanced over his shoulder where the emissary was looking.  Feyre’s portrait stared meaningfully down.

“Isn’t it lovely,” Rhys said dryly. “My mate painted it, of course.  I’m always in awe of her capabilities.”

Nadia said nothing as she stared at the portrait and slowly shifted to one side and then the other.  Rhys had to cover a smile, knowing full well the effect that Feyre’s eyes could have on someone.  Especially with the force and power that had been painted in them.

“Emissary?” Rhys asked.  He pointed to the notes and papers on his desk. 

To her credit, Nadia leaped from her seat with plenty of grace.  Her skin was flushed as she turned to the door, her eyes down cast.

“No, sir, High Lord,” she said quickly, “it should be fine.  Everything is in order, I think.  I should leave.  Duties in Winter.”

The emissary practically ran from the room.  She didn’t even acknowledge when she’d be returning.

Rhys sat in his chair for a minute before reaching for the bottle of scotch tucked beneath the table.  He didn’t bother finding a glass before he turned to that portrait.

You planned this somehow, didn’t you? he sent down the bond, knowing with certainty Feyre had been listening in.

A low chuckle was his only response.

.*.*.*.*.*.

tagist:

@aelinchocolatelover  // @sexy-dumpster-fire // @bamchickawowow // @ireallyshouldsleeprn // @courtofjurdan // @sassys-world // @sleeping-and-books // @superspiritfestival // @chieflemming // @julemmaes // @lysandra-ghost-leopard // @firestarsandseneschals // @emikadreams // @rapunzel1523 // @booksofthemoon // @highladysith // @fangirlprincess09 // @rowaelinismyotp // @vanzetanze // @cassianscool // @stardelia // @my-fan-side // @sjmships // @tillyrubes10 // @rhysandswhore  //  @story-scribbler  // @post-it-notes33 // @live-the-fangirl-life // @strangevil321 // @pastasiren // @lemonade-coolattas @foreverfallingforthestars // @feysand-loml // @realbookloverproblems // @ghostlyrose2 // @swankii-art-teacher // @foughtconquered // @bri-loves-sunflowers // @captain-swan-is-endgame  // @mystic-bibliophile // @cretaceous-therapod // @thenightgodess-feyrearcheron //  @thisloveseternal // @gracie-rosee // @magnifique1807 // @liars-lmao // @goddess-aelin // @thegloweringcastle // @tangledinsparkles // @the-lonelybarricade // @millsarcherfeykat // @sideralwriting // @nerdperson524 // @the-fae-are-taking-over // @sushisempai // @jenibearx3 //  @the-introverted-bibliophile //  @starfall-spirit //

[kingofsummer93]

Ex Luna Scientia

Summary:

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

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

Or- an Elucien at Hogwarts AU.

Chapter 11: The First Trial - Pt 2

Ao3 Masterlist

The muffled sounds of the crowd in the raised stands died away as Lucien walked into the Forbidden Forest.

The sounds and smells of the forest were sinister, but he had the unfair advantage of them being familiar as well. The soft crunching of leaves under his feet, the rustling of branches overhead, the well-worn path leading to endless, impenetrable darkness. All things he’d experienced before.

But those times he’d been a monster that nothing in this forest would dare cross. Lucien had a feeling that the creatures that skittered away at the first scent of a werewolf wouldn’t be so squeamish when faced with a human.

“Lumos!”

Even as a whisper his voice echoed around the woods around him, like a ripple in a pond. Lucien had the distinct feeling of being watched, though he couldn’t hear or scent anything near him, even with his heightened senses.

The light from his wand seemed to barely light the path ahead, as if the darkness was absorbing the light. He could barely see more than a few feet.

There was no sign of either Nesta or Rhysand, no discernible footprints or sounds other than the soft whisperings of the forest. How much time had gone by since he’d walked in? It was hard to tell with nothing but dark and silence around him, and he kicked himself for not wearing a watch.

After what felt like an hour but couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes he arrived at a fork in the path. He’d walked these woods enough to know that the path to the left was wider and easier to walk on, but wouldn’t take him anywhere useful.

To the right the path was narrower, darker, with lower-hanging branches that all but barred the path. Lucien would have bet any amount of money that Nesta and Rhysand had both gone left.

The safe thing to do would be to start out on the path on the right, where he’d be able to see a threat coming at him. But it would also leave him exposed, both to whatever lurked in these woods, and to the other champions who could decide to follow him.

What he had told Elain hadn’t been the entire truth, but it hadn’t been a lie, either. He did know from Care of Magical Creatures class that unicorns preferred open spaces, he had simply failed to mention that he had seen proof of it.

Straight ahead was nothing but dense woods, littered with fallen trunks, holes, bushes, and very little to orient himself. At least, that’s how it would appear to anyone else. But Lucien knew for a fact that if he kept going straight for another ten minutes he’d arrive at a broad clearing with a shallow pond in its center.

The very pond that he and his friends had once spotted a unicorn drinking from. It was a thing of breathtaking beauty- whiter than the purest snow, radiant with magic. Its neck had snapped up as it sensed them enter the clearing, and in the blink of an eye it had vanished.

The unicorn’s scent had been almost unearthly, so fresh and enticing it had wiped his brain of anything but predatory intent. He’d chased that poor creature through the woods for over an hour, catching glimpses of the tip of a silvery-white tail whipping through the woods. Eventually Jurian and Tamlin had managed to tackle him and snap him out of his single-minded daze. They’d given him shit for it the next morning, but the ribbing was always half-hearted. They knew there was nothing he could do about it. Still, the memory of it turned Lucien’s stomach. Unicorn blood was highly toxic to humans, and he was willing to bet it wouldn’t have ended well for him if he’d bit that unicorn.

He hesitated as he surveyed the dark woods in front of him. Part of him wanted to wait for Elain, so he could show her the way to the pond. Contest or no, she hadn’t chosen to participate, unlike Nesta or Rhysand.

A rustling above him caught his attention. A dark shape was barely visible through the thick canopy, moving slowly through the branches. Right. They were being monitored. If she got into trouble she could always call for help. Besides, she’d probably punch him in the face if she thought he didn’t think her capable. The thought made him smile as he turned back to the dark woods.

“Expecto Patronum!”

A silvery-white fawn shot out from his wand, its ears quirking back as it scanned the woods around Lucien.

“Light the way, my friend,” Lucien whispered. He stepped off the path and into the trees, his patronus trotting faithfully in front of him.

It was even more quiet in this part of the woods. The mossy ground absorbed his footsteps, the canopy of branches above so thick they barely rustled. His patronus wound its way through the dense trees, illuminating the darkness.

Lucien had been nothing but confident when Eris had explained the task back in the tent, but he was starting to feel differently about that the deeper he got into the woods. He walked a little closer to his patronus, and the fawn nuzzled his hand.

“Should be somewhere straight ahead…” he mumbled. Was he walking to his patronus? No wonder people went insane in solitary confinement. He’d been alone in the woods for no more than half an hour and he was already starting to feel a little crazy.

Maybe this was the true trial. Not finding a unicorn hair or fighting whatever creatures got in their way, but somehow doing it without panicking.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he pushed aside a branch and the clearing appeared before him, exactly where he’d remembered it. It was blissfully empty, no unicorns or other more menacing creatures in sight. The night sky was clear, the silvery moonlight reflecting off the surface of the still pond.

Lucien hurried around the edge of the water, towards the spot in the woods where the unicorn had run off. His patronus followed, illuminating the darkness.

With his lit wand held high in front of him he crouched down and looked for a hint of silky white hair. He had chased the unicorn so fast that the animal had crashed its way through the trees to get away from him- with some luck some of its tail hairs might have gotten stuck to the thick underbrush. It was a long shot, but it was the only idea he had.

After ten minutes of searching a desperate panic started kicking in. He still had to walk back, if he started now it would have taken him an hour. He had no idea how long it would take the others, but surely they wouldn’t have achieved the task faster than him?

Just then a flash of silver caught his eye. Lucien dropped to his hands and knees in front of a bush full of brambles, sticking his wand in his mouth. There, stuck in the thorny branches, was a single, pristine white hair. It seemed to be lit by an inner light, as the unicorn had been.

Lucien carefully untangled it from the brambles, his heart racing with excitement. All he had to do now was to get out of the forest- he could run once he was back on the path, and surely he would get top marks.

He pocketed the hair carefully and turned back to the clearing. “Alright, Spots. Time to go.”

Lucien frowned at the dark clearing in front of him. In his excitement he hadn’t realized his patronus had disappeared. He was lifting his wand to summon it again when a cold voice behind him made him freeze.

“Well well well. What do we have here?”

---

The darkness pressed in around Elain, so thick and endless that for a moment she forgot how to breathe. The thin beam of light from her wand was almost useless- it was so dark she could barely see her hand in front of her.

Elain did not like the dark. She had hated it as a little girl, and she hated it still, even though her sisters teased her for being too old to be afraid of the dark. As a girl, in their house in Little Whinging, she slept with the curtains open, the silvery moonlight illuminating her room with a dreamy, surreal quality. She remembered looking forward to the full moon, when that light was particularly bright, chasing away any lingering shadows in the corners of her room. In the warmer months she would sleep with the window open above her bed, and she would be lulled to sleep by the combination of that dreamy light and the warm, fragrant breeze from her garden.

Sometimes, when she was awoken by a particularly strange dream, she would stick her head out the window and stare at the moon, inhaling that sweet breeze. If only to remind herself that this was the real world. That this was real, that she was not insane.

That had stopped once they had moved to the cramped apartment in London, with its tiny, creaky window with a view of a brick wall. Feyre grumbled if even a ray of light penetrated the room before she decided to wake up, and Nesta couldn’t stand the noise from the street. Besides, if any light had managed to get through it would have been the yellow, artificial light of the streetlamps.

But here, in the forest, even the moon wasn’t able to light her way. She thought back to Lucien’s nonchalant assurance that tonight wasn’t a full moon. Perhaps he didn’t like the dark, either. Something about that made her smile.

“Expecto Patronum!”

A stream of light whooshed from her wand, solidifying into limbs, a snout, a tail. Definitely not a normal wolf. A wolf who existed by the will of the full moon. Perhaps it was fitting, after all. Either way, she had more pressing concerns at the moment. She’d worry about the wolf-not-wolf later.

As if sensing her thoughts, her patronus nudged her hand and then trotted a few feet up the path before looking back at her over its shoulder.

“Right. Let’s do this, Moony.”

The woods were still dark and eerily silent around her, but at least with the light of the patronus she could see a few feet in front of her.

An open space with water. That should be easy enough to find, right? Unicorns were notoriously skittish, but their delicate tail hairs often got caught in low bushes or brambles. Olivander had told her this was how they were collected for their use in wand-making.

Her own wand seemed to grow warmer in her hand, as if the single strand of unicorn hair inside somehow knew of her purpose here in the woods. Whether it approved or not, she couldn’t tell.

Elain stopped in her tracks as she reached a fork in the path. The path on the left was wider, the ground packed tightly from being walked on. The path to the right was hardly a path at all, and more of a vague passage through tightly packed trees, with trunks and fallen branches littering the ground. Surely by all logic the most worn path would lead to some sort of water?

She turned left, holding her lit wand out in front of her. Her patronus followed beside her on silent feet, but she hadn’t walked more than a few steps when her wand suddenly burned in her hand, so suddenly she gasped and dropped it in surprise. The tip was still lit, but otherwise it looked perfectly innocent. Elain had expected to find it glowing red-hot, but the polished rosewood looked as normal as ever.

With slight trepidation she bent to retrieve it, and found that the wood was once again cool against her palm. How odd. Perhaps she had performed a silent spell without meaning to?

She held it out in front of her again, this time bracing herself, and once again it grew hot in her palm. Instead of dropping it again she whirled, pointing it in the opposite direction. This time the wand vibrated slightly.

Elain’s heart rate picked up. She knew precious little about wand making, but she remembered Olivander saying something about the mysterious properties of wand cores. Perhaps her wand did have an opinion about what she was doing, after all.

She moved to the intersection of the paths and spun in a slow circle, noting the change in her wand with each direction she faced. The wide, slightly more inviting path on the left- hot. Like a warning. The same for the path leading back to the school grounds, as well as the woods straight ahead.

But when she faced the path to the right, the one she desperately did not want to walk down- a slight vibration, like a hum of approval. Elain hesitated for another minute. What if she was making all this up, and she ended up lost?

But then again, her only other option was to wander through the woods aimlessly. Besides, if she got turned around or left the path, she could always use a four-way charm to find the castle again.

She gripped her wand tightly and started down the path, her patronus leading the way. The woods were so dense and the path so narrow that it felt like she was crawling randomly through the woods. More than once she stopped and held her wand out in front of her, circling slowly and following the direction the wand indicated. It might have been her imagination but the vibrations seemed to be increasing in intensity, from a low hum to an almost electric buzzing.

Her path was strangely empty of any creatures, magical or otherwise, but every once in a while a rustle of branches or crunch of leaves would make her stop dead in her tracks, her heart jumping to her throat. But nothing leapt out at her, nothing howled or growled or snarled, no spells were cast her way. It was just her and her patronus, illuminating her way.

She was starting to panic at how deep into the woods she was walking when a new sound made her pause. Not an animal, not footsteps. A tinkling, rushing sound, faint but easily recognizable. Running water.

The woods were so disorienting that she held out her wand again to make sure she headed in the right direction. The trickling sound got louder, and Elain’s heart sped up again, with excitement this time. Maybe she could actually do this. And without having encountered any creatures, no less. Maybe she’d even get top marks, and maybe that would get her some kind of advantage in the next trial…

She’d been silly to freak out about this. It was just harmless fun, really. Professor Spell-Cleaver wouldn’t actually put them in real danger. She’d once seen him personally escort a first year student who had injured himself up to Madam Madja. There was no way he would risk any of them being seriously harmed…

“Shit!”

Elain winced as she stepped right into ice-cold water, her sneaker becoming immediately soaked through. The forest was so dense that she hadn’t noticed the little stream winding its way through the trees.

Her heart sank. If Lucien’s guess had been right then unicorns preferred open spaces. This little creek running through dense woods was the opposite of that.

And yet- that trickling sound she could still hear was not coming from this creek. It must lead somewhere else.

She followed the creek, carefully stepping over fallen branches and trunks to avoid toppling into the icy water completely. Her wet shoe squelched with every step, making her teeth chatter with cold. Eventually the creek widened into a stream and her wolf trotted in the middle of the current, following the sound of rushing water.

After a few minutes light started trickling in through the trees from an opening up ahead, and the noise intensified. Her patronus came to a stop in the middle of the stream, sitting back on its haunches. Elain hurried to its side, pushing back a low branch to clear her path, and then she pulled up short with a gasp.

She wasn’t standing at the edge of a clearing, as she had expected, but at the top of a knoll that led to a deep ravine. The stream ran over the edge in a graceful waterfall, into a still, wide pool at the bottom. And beside the pond, its head raised in her direction, was a radiant, snow-white unicorn.

Elain forced herself to remain very still, even as her wand vibrated in her hand again, as if drawn to the unicorn by a magnet. A sudden gust of wind sent branches rustling overhead, and in the blink of an eye the unicorn had turned and bolted into the trees.

Elain exhaled the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, and stepped a little closer to the edge of the ravine. She’d solved one problem, but created another.

She could examine the spot in trees where the unicorn had disappeared, and with some luck she might find a stray hair stuck to the branches. But first, she would have to find a way down into the ravine. Walking around to the other side would take too long, but if she tried to climb down the steep side she could fall and break her neck. For the first time in her life she wished she was more athletic. Feyre would probably be halfway down by now.

Maybe she could do an engorgement charm on a bush, to catch her if she fell. The vegetation growing along the side of the ravine almost formed some kind of trellis- she could hold on to it to climb down.

No sooner had she made up her mind and started rolling up the sleeves of her robes than a jet of green light lit up the woods around her. Elain shrieked in surprise and stumbled back, whirling to see the source of the light.

Too late, she remembered that she was standing at the edge of a sharp drop. Her arms windmilled around her as her feet slipped on the wet ground, searching for purchase. Another flash of green light hit the ground next to her, only missing her by a few inches.

A scream slipped from her throat, but it was cut short as her scrambling feet hit a soft patch of mud and she went tumbling backwards, the air leaving her lungs as she barreled towards the pond at the bottom of the ravine.

---

Lucien barely had time to react to that unnatural voice before something long and hairy wrapped around his middle and hoisted him upside down into the air. He started to scream, but as whatever was holding him turned him around in midair all he could do was stare.

Because the something holding him was a leg. A long, hairy leg, attached to a hairy body the size of a carthorse. Lucien counted eight legs, eight dark beady eyes, and eight razor-sharp pincers. His voice seemed to die in his throat as the giant spider peered at him, clicking its pincers menacingly.

“A human in my forest,” the creature said, clicking its pincers to emphasize each word. “What a novelty.”

A skittering sound filled the clearing. Lucien’s stomach lurched in horror as he saw the ground was now covered in spiders- so many of them that they carpeted the previously mossy forest floor in a thick, black, moving layer. Some no bigger than a fly, some as big as an apple, but thankfully none as big as his captor.

Lucien had heard the rumors that Acromantulas lived in the Forbidden Forest, but he had never seen one before. All he knew about them was that they were rare, and that their venom was extremely valuable.

And, most importantly, that they had a taste for human flesh.

That thought jolted Lucien out of his frozen stupor. He struggled against the leg holding him, his mind going blank with fear. But fighting against the creature was no use- the spider only held him tighter as it clinked its pincers at him in what horribly seemed like excitement. Blood was rushing in his ears, his fear making it difficult to think clearly.

And then with a sudden lurch the spider started moving, crashing through the dense trees towards the heart of the forest. The swarm of spiders covering the ground seemed to follow, like some horrible, nightmarish river.

Lucien’s grip tightened on his wand, and he aimed wildly for the spider’s many legs.

“STUPEFY!”

The jet of light ricocheted uselessly off the spider, and the creature clicked its pincers again, as if amused.

“Stupefy! STUPEFY!”

But it was no use. The spider was so large and magically powerful that Lucien suspected it would take at least three wizards bombarding it with spells to take it down.

Lucien forced himself to calm down and think. They were going deeper and deeper into the forest. If he somehow managed to get free from his captor he would still have to find his way back. No way he could run fast enough to avoid the spiders. If only he could fly without a broom, then he could simply zoom out of the forest…

Something clicked in his fear-addled brain. He might not have a broom but the teachers patrolling the forest did. He could send up some red sparks and they would come for him. Unless…

Unless there was a way he could escape on a broom also.

He pointed his wand in the direction they had come from and concentrated with all his might. “ACCIO BROOM!”

Nothing happened, but he could only hope it had worked. Otherwise he’d had no choice but to send up red sparks and get disqualified for the first Trial. Lucien had no idea how far into the forest he was- if he asked for help, would the teachers even see him?

He was getting dizzy from being held upside down, his blood pounding in his ears with every erratic heartbeat. The woods were getting even darker and denser, the ground rustling as even more spiders followed in their tracks.

Eventually the woods around them thinned, the darkness lifting slightly as silvery moonlight illuminated their way. Lucien almost wished it had stayed dark as he took in the scene around him.

They were descending down a gently sloping hill into a hollow that had been cleared of trees. The very center of the hollow was domed with a misty, silvery web. And everywhere he looked- spiders. Not small ones like the ones scurrying under him, but giant ones as large as his captor. But even more horrible was the noise. Slithering, clicking, rustling noise that sent a shiver of revulsion down his spine.

Without preamble the spider holding him dropped its hold, and Lucien fell to the ground in a heap. He jumped to his feet, clutching his wand so tight his knuckles turned white. Spiders surrounded him on all sides, closing in around him in a tidal wave. He barely had time to regain his senses when the spider that had carried him here spoke.

“Dadgan!” it called, clicking its pincers. “Dadgan!”

Silence fell over the hollow as all the spiders went still. Lucien shivered again as he sensed it- whether due to his heightened senses, or because of some primal human instinct, he wasn’t sure.

And then he saw it. A large, horrific shape was crawling out of the misty web and into the hollow, clicking its pincers madly. It was larger than any other spider in the clearing, closer in size to a small house than to any animal Lucien had ever seen.

Any urge of fighting his way out the clearing and making a run for it suddenly disappeared.

“What is it?” the giant spider named Dadgan demanded. Its many eyes were milky white, blinking irritably.

“A human! Wandering alone in the forest, on his own.”

“Kill him,” Dadgan replied dismissively. “I am tired.”

The giant, blind spider turned back towards the web as the hollow exploded with the sound of thousands of pincers clicking with excitement. Lucien’s mind went blank with panic.

“Wait!” he exclaimed.

The leader of the Acromantulas turned back towards him with apparent irritation, and the hollow fell silent once more.

“I’m a student at the school!” he blurted, at a loss for what else to say. He doubted there was a way he could talk his way out of this, but considering that the only other option was fighting his way through a horde of spiders, it seemed worth a shot.

“Young flesh. It’s been a long time since a human has come through these parts. You’ll make an excellent snack for my children.”

The wrong thing to say, then. The clicking resumed, more frenzied this time.

Red sparks. Send up red sparks. Don’t be an idiot.

But just then Lucien heard another sound that sent his heart racing with excitement rather than fear. A whizzing through the air- faint and distant but recognizable.

Just a few more moments, if he could just stall for a few more moments…

“How do you think Professor Spell-Cleaver will react if you feed one of his students to your…children?” He clenched his wand tighter to hide his shaking fingers, hoping he sounded more confident than he actually felt.

“We do not answer to Professor Spell-Cleaver,” the spider replied with what Lucien could have sworn was its version of a sneer. “Or to any human. You should have thought of that before wandering into our forest.”

The swarm of spiders pressed in ever closer.

“There’s a tournament,” Lucien continued desperately, surreptitiously scanning the edge of the woods at the top of the ridge. “A competition, between the four Houses at the school. That’s why I came into the forest. I didn’t mean to disturb you. If you let me go I can warn the rest of the school not to come into your territory…”

Dadgan let out a horrible noise, something that might have been a laugh, had it been human.

“And deprive my children of more helpless humans wandering into their grasp? I think not. Goodbye, human.”

The clicking around him grew louder, all those beady eyes shining in the moonlight as they pressed in around him.

But then something burst out of the tree line, swooping down the slope towards him like a bird diving for prey. Lucien felt almost weak with relief.

He didn’t wait for his broom to come to a stop before grabbing it out of midair and swinging himself onto it. The mass of spiders was closing in around him, long hairy legs reaching for him as he yanked his broom up into a steep climb.

He threw his arm out blindly, pointing at the crowd of spiders. “INCENDIO!”

The spiders shrieked in pain as flames erupted from his wand, spreading below him like a hellish inferno. Lucien didn’t dare look down as he rose higher in the air, pointing his broom up to the night sky at top speed with the wind rushing in his ears.

When he rose above the treetops he finally looked down, and immediately wished he hadn’t. The sight of the clearing swarming with spiders was even more revolting from above. He wished his flames had been strong enough to scorch the entire herd to the ground.

The castle twinkled in the distance, like a beacon in the dark. Lucien sighed in relief, pressed himself flat to his broom, and bolted through the night sky.

---

Time seemed to slow down as Elain fell, her hair trailing above her like a fading shooting star. A dark shape moved in the shadows at the edge of the ravine, too far for her to tell what it was.

Before she had time to react she hit the water, and kept falling. Down, down, down into the icy water, deeper than it had looked from above.

The water was so cold that every muscle in her body immediately seized, and so dark she could barely see anything in front of her. For several long moments it seemed like she would never stop falling through the dark, icy water, like time had suspended and she was floating through space.

When she finally hit the slimy, soft bottom of the pond she kicked off desperately, trying not to think too much about what lived in there, or what might be decaying at the bottom. Her soaked robes seemed to drag her back down with every kick of her feet. Her lungs screamed in protest, but finally she broke the surface of the water and gasped in great gulps of air.

For a few seconds all she could do was bob in the water and gather her bearings, disoriented by the fall and the dark abyss of the pond. Then she remembered- the jets of green light aimed at her, the figure moving through the shadows.

A quick scan of the cliff at the top of the waterfall revealed nothing but dense trees, but that didn’t mean whoever attacked her wasn’t still there.

Could it have been one of the other champions, trying to injure her so she’d be disqualified? If that was the case it could only have been Rhysand. She doubted that, even for a Slytherin. He might be a prick but as far as she knew he wasn’t a sociopath. Perhaps it had been a teacher, and the spell hadn’t been aimed for her, but some unseen foe in the woods near her? Somehow she doubted that, too.

The alternative, however, was even more sinister. Who (or, even more horrifying, what) could have sent those spells?

Elain swam as fast as she could to the edge of the pond, her robes hindering her progress and threatening to drag her back down into the black depths. Her teeth were chattering, the icy water seeping straight into her bones. The water was full of algae and other slimy detritus that clung to her clothes, and more than once she felt something bump against her that felt decidedly alive.

Still, she swam as fast as her robes allowed her, turning around every few seconds to scan the top of the ridge. It seemed like whatever had been there before was now gone, and she breathed a sigh of relief as she finally reached the bank.

Just as she went to haul herself over the edge, however, a hand clamped around her ankle and yanked. Elain shrieked in surprise and slipped back into the pond, inhaling a mouthful of water as she went. She twisted to look over her shoulder and saw a small, horned creature with tentacles for legs, teeth bared and long, skinny fingers clasped tightly on her ankle.

By some miracle she was still holding her wand and she wasted no time in pointing it in the Grindylow’s face.

“Relashio!”

Her voice came out as little more than a gargle of bubbles, but a jet of hot water streamed out of her wand, hitting the creature straight in the face. It hissed in pain and immediately released her ankle, and Elain scrambled to the surface again, gasping for breath.

But more Grindylows had appeared out of the floating algae, grabbing hold of her robes and trying to drag her down. Elain pointed blindly into the water, unable to see the water demons through the dark murky pond.

“Relashio! RELASHIO!”

This time red-colored sparks shot out of her wand, and the demons screamed so loud she could hear them through the water. In other circumstances she might have felt bad, but in the current situation she couldn’t be bothered. She hauled herself onto the bank and kicked viciously into the water for good measure, feeling a sick satisfaction when her shoe made contact with something solid.

Elain slumped onto her back, letting her breathing return to normal. The surface of the pond was calm once more, sparkling as it reflected the moonlight. The sight of it reminded her of the unicorn, gazing up at her from the edge of the pond. Right. She might be lying at the bottom of a ravine, half-frozen and soaked through her bones, but her problems weren’t over.

Told you it’d be something fun, Lucien had said.

A hysterical laugh that might have been half a sob bubbled out of her before she could stop it. He had seemed so confident, walking into the dark forest as if he wasn’t afraid of it at all. Even Rhysand had seemed a little cowed.

A gust of wind sent a violent shiver through her body, and with a renewed resolve she got to her feet. She’d gotten this far, she couldn’t give up now.

After a quick hot-air spell to dry her sodden robes and one last glance at the top of the ridge (still mercifully empty) she lit the tip of her wand and walked to the spot in the woods where the unicorn had disappeared.

It was so dark, even with the weak beam of light from her wand, that at first she was convinced it was a lost cause. But then her wand began to vibrate again, less than before but still noticeable. Elain let it guide her, moving around the bushes, doubling back when the vibration lessened, moving forward when it increased.

The light from her wand grew a little brighter. And there, right in front of her, tangled in a branch, was a single, vibrantly white unicorn hair. Elain carefully untangled it and cradled it in her palm. How strange, that such a delicate object held such magical power. Her wand seemed to hum in response.

“Come with me, child,” a deep voice said behind her. “It isn’t safe here.”

Elain’s heart stuttered in shock. She turned to the sound of the voice, expecting to see a teacher, perhaps summoned accidentally by the red sparks of her spell against the Grindylows. But what she saw instead made her jaw drop open in shock.

Not quite a man, though he sounded like one. And not quite a horse, though he looked like one.

The centaur stepped into the light cast from her wand, his hooves clip-clopping almost silently against the forest floor. Above the waist he had a human torso, with a gleaming palomino body. His hair was white as snow, his eyes so piercingly blue they seemed to glow in the dark.

Elain’s mouth went dry at the sight of the bow and quiver of arrows strapped to his back, and she took an unconscious step back. The centaur frowned and stepped closer still.

“It isn’t safe here,” he repeated, those stunning eyes scanning the woods around them.

Elain swallowed against the sudden dryness in her throat. “Why not?”

“Malevolent forces are in these woods tonight. The stars have told me so.”

“What…what do you mean by that?”

“There is something here with evil intent.” He lifted his gaze to the stars above, frowning as he did so. “Mars is bright tonight.”

Elain followed the direction of his gaze, shuffling awkwardly. His words sent goosebumps along her arms, as cryptic and nonsensical as they were. Suddenly the prospect of walking back alone was as appealing as slipping back into that pond.

“There’s a tournament happening at school. I was meant to come in and find a unicorn hair. I need to be heading back…”

“The stars warned me there would be foul play involved. Something isn’t right in these woods tonight.”

Elain froze as she thought of the jets of green light fired at her through the woods. Bile rose up her throat.

The centaur must have seen the fear in her eyes, and seemed to take it as an answer. “Come,” he said. “I will bring you back safely.”

“Why would you help me?”

The centaur smiled gently, the expression softening the coldness of his ice-blue eyes. “Centaurs are blessed with knowledge from the movement of the stars. If we do not use it to fight evil, what is the point of it?”

Elain scanned the dark woods again. She wasn’t sure about the wiseness of accepting help from a centaur, but he didn’t seem to mean her harm. Besides, her only alternative was climbing all the way back up to the path, and that would take ages. Not to mention that she’d be left alone with whoever had shot those spells at her earlier.

The centaur stepped closer to her and lowered his front legs so she could climb onto his back. “Hurry,” he urged. “Mars is bright tonight.”

Another glance at the bow and arrows on his back convinced her. If he was right and something fishy was happening in the woods tonight, she’d have a better shot of making it back safely with him than alone. Besides, the rule about not getting help had been specifically about students and teachers only.

Elain clambered onto the centaur’s back awkwardly, suddenly hyper aware that from the waist up he looked like a man. A shirtless one, at that. Nesta would die with jealousy when she told her.

Nesta. Her stomach lurched with horror. What if the malevolent force the centaur spoke of had found her? Or Lucien?

“Do not worry,” the centaur said over his shoulder, perhaps sensing her fear again. “You are safe with me.”

He set off swiftly through the woods and Elain ducked her head to avoid the low-hanging branches.

“What is your name?” he asked. “You may call me Kallias.”

“Elain. Elain Archeron.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Elain Archeron. The stars shine bright upon you.”

Even with the danger and absurdity of the situation she couldn’t help but fight a giggle. Of all the dangerous creatures that lived in this forest, she decided centaurs weren’t so bad.

“How does it work?” she asked curiously. “Your gift?”

“Centaurs study the divine movements of the planets and stars.” He cocked his head curiously. “Most mortals do not take such things seriously. They make a mockery of it with their crystal balls and tea leaves.”

“Crystals balls and tea leaves contain their own knowledge, if you know how to look,” Elain replied defensively.

The centaur was quiet for a few moments, as if contemplating her words. “You have the gift of sight.”

“What makes you say that?” she asked hesitantly.

“You do not deny it,” Kallias replied, gracefully leaping over a stream. “Besides, the stars led me to you tonight.”

“I thought the stars led you to me because I was in danger?”

Kallias was quiet for so long that Elain thought he might have grown tired of talking to her. When he spoke again his voice was somber. “Perhaps the two are related.”

“You mean…” Elain swallowed thickly. “But I haven’t told anyone else about it. Nobody knows.” Except for Lucien, but she had only told him a few hours ago. Besides, he had promised not to tell anyone. He had even begged her not to tell anyone about her vision, hadn’t he?

“Just because you haven’t told anyone doesn’t mean they don’t know. There are other ways to find things out than being told. You would do well to remember that.”

They were quiet the rest of the way through the forest, Elain’s head spinning with Kallias’ warning. The centaur stayed away from the path, cutting straight through the dense forest. Eventually Elain began to hear the sound of the crowd filtering in through the trees, and Kallias came to a stop, bending his knees to let her down.

“This is where I leave you, Elain Archeron. Remember what I told you, and be careful who you trust. Some people are not always as they appear.” With that he angled his head in a bow, his white hair falling gracefully over his shoulder. And then he was gone, as quick and graceful as the unicorn she had seen earlier.

When Elain emerged from the forest she was hit with a cacophony of sound and activity, such a contrast to the silence of the forest that for a few moments she simply blinked in shock. She was dimly aware of multiple people rushing towards her, and showing them the unicorn hair, to the crowd’s delight. A blanket was thrown over her shoulders, and she let herself get ushered back into the tent, grateful for the relative quiet.

“You did it! Well done, dear!” Professor Alis was grinning from ear to ear, holding a broomstick in her hand. “You’re the first to finish!”

Elain blinked in surprise. It had felt like she’d been in the forest for hours.

Just then Lucien entered the tent, holding a broomstick, his brother’s arm wrapped protectively around him. He looked a bit green, and seemed to be leaning heavily on Eris.

“Archie,” he said, his face splitting in a smile. “See? Told you it’d be a cakewalk.”

Elain huffed a laugh, wrapping her blanket tighter around herself. It had been warmed by magic, thawing the chill that had settled deep into her bones.

“Is that why you look like you’re about to hurl?”

“Just a casual encounter with some giant spiders,” he said, shrugging lazily.

“Some…what?”

The crowd in the stands roared again, and Elain hurried outside the tent, despite Professor Alis’ protests that she needed to rest. The sight waiting for her was not what she had been expecting.

Nesta and Rhys were descending off the back of a hippogriff, the students assembled in the stands going wild at the sight. Nesta bowed to the creature, who dipped its eagle head in response and then spread its wings wide. With a rush of air it rose in the sky, swooping over the stands before disappearing over the Forbidden Forest.

Elain rushed forward and threw her arms around her sister, who hugged her back so tight her breath was cut short. “Nes! I’m fine!”

“I never want to go back in there,” her sister declared, though the triumphant look in her eyes said otherwise. “But boy do I have a story for you.”

Elain laughed. “Same. What happened to Rhys?”

The Slytherin champion was currently bent double, leaning against a tree at the edge of the forest for support.

Nesta grinned wickedly. “Oh, well. I was flying out of the forest with my new friend, and I saw him being chased by a bunch of giant spiders. Thought I’d save his ass for some extra points.”

Elain laughed weakly, suddenly very glad that the creature she had encountered had been a centaur and not a horde of giant spiders.

The six judges had gathered at the edge of the stands, heads bent together in conversation. All of them were wearing dark cloaks and looking slightly wind-swept. Strangely, the other ministry member, Bartemius Koschei, was standing slightly away from the other judges. He looked slightly dazed, his eyes wide and unfocused.

“They’re about to put up the scores,” Lucien said, coming to stand beside them. “It’s marks out of ten from each one.”

“Champions!” Eris Vanserra’s magically amplified voice rang out over the din of the crowd. “If you’ll gather round, the judges are now ready to award your scores. The Slytherin champion will be first.”

Elain glanced at the edge of the forest, where Rhys seemed to have only slightly recovered. “Think he’ll get any points at all?” she whispered with a giggle.

“Doubtful,” Nesta and Lucien answered in unison.

“For showing bravery in the face of an angry horde of Acromantulas, but failing to complete the task and ultimately needing rescue, the judges have awarded Rhysand a score of twenty points.”

“That’s way more than he deserves,” Nesta said drily.

“For Ravenclaw. Nesta was third to complete the task, but her delay was caused by her determination to help her fellow champion escape the forest safely. For this moral fibre, the judges award her fifty points.”

The Ravenclaw students in the stands erupted in cheers.

“Not bad!” Nesta said with a grin. “I knew helping that prick would be worth it”

“Next, for Hufflepuff. For displaying an astounding amount of cleverness and problem-solving skills, and for being the first to complete the task, we award Elain fifty five points.”

Elain’s jaw dropped open. “Fifty five? That’s way more than I deserve.”

The crowd did not seem to agree with her, however. It wasn’t only Hufflepuffs cheering for her, but Ravenclaws and Gryffindors, too. Maybe when it came down to it, when they had seen what the champions were facing, the students had decided it didn’t matter how her name had come out of the cauldron. She was as much a champion as the others.

“And finally, for Gryffindor. My dear brother also ran into a spot of trouble with the Acromantulas, but managed to escape quite cleverly, and was the second to complete the task. For this, we also award him fifty five points.”

“Look at that!” Lucien said with a grin, nudging her shoulder. “We’re tied for first.”

“Well done champions! You’ve got a nice long break until your second task, which will take place on February twenty-fourth. Instructions will be given out very soon. Until then- you’ll want to hang onto those unicorn hairs. For those of you who have them, that is.”

“What!” Rhysand sputtered, looking outraged.

Students were descending from the stands, rushing onto the lawn towards their champions. Two identical blurs were bolting towards Elain, and she laughed as her friends enveloped her in a hug and bombarded her with questions.

“Oh my god, are you ok?!”

“You’re tied for first!”

“What the hell happened in there?”

“Oh, you know,” she said casually, “I made friends with a hot centaur. No big deal.”

The twins gaped at her, and Elain could only laugh again as she looped her arms through theirs and walked back towards the school. She felt lighter than she had in weeks, her thoughts consumed by nothing other than a hot bath and her bed, where she could hopefully sleep for at least a week.

[separatist-apologist]

in honor of me getting my first speeding ticket today, can you rank the acotar characters of how good they are at driving? i really just need to know who matches me for max speed, max music volume, and 13 cans rattling on the floor lmao -@mmiscbutterflies

Okay but not one man on this list is a good driver.

16. Tamlin- ROAD. RAGE. WHY ARE YOU IN THE CARPOOL LANE- YES I KNOW ITS FOR CARPOOLING NOT SPEEDING (except it IS FOR SPEEDING OH MY GOD)

15. Azriel- Agrees with every point Tamlin made but also playing the LOUDEST metal you've ever heard. Whole car is shaking. Cannot hear thoughts. Multiple tickets for evading police simply because he did not hear them behind him. A menace in every residential neighborhood

14. Eris- Stop sign is merely a suggestion. Not even rolling it, just acknowledges it is technically there. Yellow means SPEED UP, chugging 5th coffee by 5pm, should be illegal for this man to be on the road.

13. Cassian- LIFTED. PICK UP. So wide it is in TWO FUCKING LANES.

12. Rhysand- flashy sports car he drives with one hand, seat all the way back. Vroom vroom ladies, my dick is big. Always zipping through rush over traffic, not caring he is what is SLOWING US ALL DOWN

11. Lucien- Talking while driving, yelling at the other cars for doing unforgivable things such as: stopping at a red light, slowing down to yield, not mowing through pedestrians in the crosswalk. Music is entirely too loud, car is immaculate though.

10. Jurian- using car as a hotbox. Technically not a car so much as a trashcan on wheels. Doing the speed limit but nothing happening inside that vehicle is legal.

9. Helion- Cat calling from his window. HEY LADIES WANT TO SUCK MY DICK? Works more than you think it should. Road head while doing 80 through a school zone? It's not a crime if you don't get caught.

8. Amren- Makes a lot of jokes about how many points she'd get if she hit a child...and swerves A LOT when one steps off a curb.

7. Vassa- ALWAYS ON HER HORN. HONKING AT PEDESTRIANS WITH THE RIGHT OF WAY. HONKING AT CARS WITH THEIR BLINKER ON MAKING A VERY LEGAL TURN. If you flip her off, she'll roll down her window and threaten to fight you.

6. Feyre- Doing 15 over, but is also putting on her make up and texting 8 people all at once while listening to bright, bubble-gum pop music. Other cars? Oh my god, I don't even remember how I got here!

5. Gwyn- NERVOUS. Riding the break HARD. "The speed limit is 65, Gwyn" "Okay but it's a range so 45 is fine"

4. Mor- Leaning out her window to make fun of what the car beside her is listening to. Always filming a tiktok, hits a curb once a week because she's trying to edit her videos in traffic.

3. Emerie- Aggressively daring city police to pull her over. Locking eyes with cops while making a u-turn. I DARE YOU. Sometimes they call her bluff.

2. Nesta- Yeah, doing 90 in a 55 is fine if I KNOW there won't be any cops on this stretch but I would NEVER run a red light AZRIEL. Filthiest audiobook playing at full volume, listening stone faced with the windows down.

1. Elain- Has a little flower vase in dashboard and beads from her mirror. Obeying the law 100% because she wants to put into the universe good vibes only. Is in 0 rush to get anywhere. Music reasonable volume, she likes to sing along. Washes car every Friday.

[moononastring]

I did the question wrong… Jurian x Elain or Eris x Azriel

Interesting choices 👀

Jurian and Elain give me too much big brother/little sister energy so I can't see it...and though Azriel is on thin ice and he doesn't deserve the good dickin' my ginger menace would give him...I will go with Azris in this scenario 😂

send me two ships and I'll tell you which I prefer

[gwyns]

I feel kinda sorry for Elain in the Vassa/Briar/Elain AU. Vassa and Elain are going to be so supportive of elucien and then elain will then have to witness her best friends willingly pick two of the most unhinged men in all of Prythian for themselves. I mean I'm sure that they will be loving relationships (it's a what they deserve) but yeah, Elain is truly the only one in the friend group with a sense of Taste. (Also sorry if I'm spamming you but your last ask made me think of their potential again haha)

ajsksijcjsksjdjssjkxhsjsj

this tho 😭😭😭 elain will pick the most charming and caring rake in the entire series and vassa and briar will have prythian's equivalent of two raccoons fighting for dominance over a trash can filled with spoiled scraps.

the thing is i like jurian, a lot actually, and if he were real.... 🥵 that spring court menace on the other hand......... if sjm goes in that direction all i gotta say is: good luck

[ladygwynriel]

The forbidden love story

I just wanted to apologize if some of you felt attacked by a post I wrote where I said that “Elriel would be one of the worst forbidden love story and that I could resolve it in 10 pages if I wanted to.” I made the mistake of tagging Elriel and I’m sorry for that. I have nothing wrong with Elain and Az being a thing but I admit it’s not my cup of tea anymore. I loved Elriel but now I feel like their time have simply passed and that the forbidden love story trope doesn’t sit right. Why? because if we look at the characters in this love square and more specifically at Lucien Az and Elain I don’t feel like it can lead to a big drama like this one. Lucien was in love once at the point of wanting to marry his lover and they weren’t mates. Beron killed her just before his eyes and we know from the first trilogy that he still grieves her death. So even if Elain is his mate, I don’t think he would go against Elriel if they’re truly in love, and if Lucien isn’t against it then why Rhys should be?

An Elriel stan told me Beron could still claim her and call to the blood duel since they don’t know Lucien is Hellion’s son. But I still doubt this would really lead to something... Lucien would surely go against Beron decision because he would put Elain’s happiness before his own and maybe Eris would stand at his side. Plus I can’t see Rhysand and Feyre keeping for themselves the fact that Beron is not even Lucien’s father if the Blood duel was a menace. It would be such a stupid move from Beron to claim Elain because absolutely everyone would turn against him.

So if the conclusion of this forbidden love story between Elriel is gonna be something like this then it will be a big disappointment for me. If Sarah plans to make such a big deal of the Blood Duel and close the book with Beron against the night court, Lucien, Eris, Jurian, Vassa and no real confrontation at the end, it would be such a waist to me... (idk if it will make sense for some of you but it is just how I feel personally)

Anyway I DON’T HATE Elriel or Elain, not at all. I just hope that Sarah plans something bigger than this if they’re supposed to be endgame and that Lucien will still have an happy ending. Also, if Elriel is endgame then Gwyn need to stay out of this. I won’t accept her being a pawn for Elriel to happen, that will be disgusting for Gwyn’s character.

Love u all and I’m once again story if I offended anyone. We all are free to ship whoever we want and we should respect each other opinions whatever it is. 🖤

[imperiousasdawn-blog]

Aurora Borealis ☆ Chapter 2

A/N: thank you guys so much for your sweet comments on chapter 1! knowing that y’all liked it definitely motivated me to write this faster. so, without further ado…here is chapter 2! 

Healing, Cassian soon realizes, is more difficult than any battle he has ever fought. He’s been hurt before, of course. The first War wasn’t exactly a walk in the park, and Cassian has had his fair share of gruesome injuries- after all, a bastard is a bastard, and the leaders of the Illyrian camps he grew up in made sure to remind him of that frequently and painfully. This, though, this is unlike any recovery he has ever been through.

Gods, it hurts. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.

Still, he grits his teeth and squares his screaming shoulders and smiles at his brothers. He lives, lives for his absent Lady. Lives for his grieving Lord. Lives for his newly Made-

Well. He doesn’t quite know what Nesta is to him. Not his friend, obviously. Nesta can barely stand being in the same room as him, much less having a two minute conversation that isn’t comprised of taunts and barbs aimed to sting. Even so, she’s no enemy. Nesta Archeron is a bold, vicious question mark haunting Cassian’s mind. She is somewhere in the middle.

Cassian isn’t sure how to handle that. He sees the world in black and white- friend or foe, good or bad, right or wrong. Nesta, on the other hand, is as grey as those icy eyes of hers, and it drives the Illyrian absolutely mad. He wants to play with her, to poke and prod and push at her until she materializes solid in his life, frost made flesh. He wants to know her, to really know her, to learn what makes her smile and cry and scream.

Yes, he most definitely wants to know what makes her scream. He’s pretty sure that if she gave him half an hour with his mouth, he could find out.

Time, Cassian decides, is one hell of a bitch. Time is clever, and cruel, and thoroughly untouchable. Much like someone else Cassian knows, come to think about it.

His wings belong to time. Cassian has become a slave to the hourglass standing tall and proud on his desk. He calls out a prayer to every grain of sand that falls- pleasepleaseplease give them back- but nothing seems to come of it. He wonders if he is pathetic, like Nesta said. He feels pretty damn pathetic.

“Still sulking?” Cassian is always surprised by how clear Nesta’s voice is. It sounds like bells. “Or have you finally decided to grow up and move on with your meaningless life?”

“Sweetheart. Always a pleasure,” Cassian grates, slowly shifting in his chair to face the female standing in his doorway. She’s wearing a ditsy, simpering smile that, for a split second, reminds him of Ianthe. “If you’re here to beg me to bed you, I’m afraid the medics say I can’t engage in any…strenuous activity for another few weeks. Don’t be too disappointed.”

Nesta curls her lip, faux-smile gone. “I’d sooner bed an Attor,” she says icily. Cassian raises an eyebrow.

“I see Rhysand has been giving you some lessons on all of the creatures our fine realm has to offer,” he says. “I hope you’ve been taking notes. ”

Nesta narrows her eyes, stepping closer to Cassian, and the Illyrian feels a thrill in his stomach when the female stops in front of his chair. “Get up,” she says, and the sheer authority in her voice startles Cassian into following her command. He towers over her, even with her new Fae height, and Cassian can’t help but think about how perfectly her head would fit tucked under his chin. “Rhysand,” she begins, somehow making the name sound like a curse, “has decided that you are to train me. Why he wants some mangled oaf to be my teacher, I’m not sure, but he made it very clear that his order is non negotiable.”

Cassian furrows his eyebrows. He’s doing better, yes, but he’s not even close to recovered, and the muscles in his back scream and protest with every move he makes. It would make more sense for Az or Rhys to train her; they, at least, could spar with her, demonstrate moves properly. “And Elain?” he asks, looking down at Nesta. She’s still so deliciously close to him, her scent- warm and heady, so at odds with her personality- wafting up in a way that makes Cassian want to bury his nose in her neck.

Nesta’s scowl deepens. “Elain, apparently, will be training with Azriel. When he’s not doing reconnaissance in the Spring Court.”

So, Azriel is available for training. Cassian, it seems, needs to have a little chat with his High Lord. “I see.”

Nesta scans the Illyrian, dragging her gaze across his bandaged wings before returning to his face with a sniff. “You need to bathe. You reek of rot.” With that, she turns around and leaves Cassian with only the ghost of her scent in the air.

Cassian finds Rhysand in the study. His brother radiates sheer exhaustion; even the sharp crackle of his magic in the air seems tired, subdued. It kills Rhysand to know that his mate is back in that suffocating spring. Feyre knows what she’s doing, she can take care of herself, but Cassian knows that if he could, Rhys would tear apart the entire Spring Court to get her back.

Cassian would too.

“Brother,” he says mildly. Rhysand looks up from the map he is studying, his skin pale.

“Cassian,” he says. “How are your wings?”

Cass attempts a nonchalant shrug, ignoring the jolt of pain that runs down his back. “Fine. The medics say that the tissue will heal, but they,” he sucks in a breath, “they don’t think I’ll be able to fly again. It’s fine, I’m…” He doesn’t need to finish the sentence. Rhysand understands, understands how deep the loss hits him, understands that Cassian will never be whole again, even if they’ve managed to stitch him up. Cassian clears his throat, the air in the room suddenly far too thin. “Why Nesta?” he asks. There’s no point beating around the bush; his brother is no fool, and despite popular belief, nor is Cassian. “You know that Azriel would do better.” Rhysand makes to object, but Cassian continues, “I’m weak, Rhys. Don’t try to disagree, you know that I am. And if we’re being honest-“ Cassian stops, swallowing hard. “If we’re being honest, you need to find a new Commander. I’m useless. I’m only going to bring the Circle down.”

The look of pure shock and pain in Rhysand’s eyes is enough to knock the air out of Cassian’s lungs. “No, Cassian,” his friend, his brother, says, rising. “No. I will not replace you, what are you talking about?”

“How the hell am I supposed to command your armies when I can barely lace my boots without help, Rhys?”

“You’ll heal-“

“Don’t you get it?” He’s shouting now, all the anger and desperation and fear he’s been trying to hold back finally unleashing. “That commander, that man you think I still am- he’s gone, Rhysand!”

“Stop.”  Rhys’s voice shakes the very foundation of the house as darkness floods the room. When the blackness clears, he is standing in front of Cassian, his violet eyes drawn and tired. “You’re right here, Cassian,” Rhys says softly, gripping his brother’s arm. “You never left. Wings or no wings, you’re the best fighter in Prythian. So please, don’t stop fighting. Not now.”

Cassian closes his eyes. If he tries hard enough, he can pretend that Hybern never happened. He can pretend he was the same person he was two months ago, bold and reckless and alive. When he opens his eyes, all he feels is exhaustion. “Ok,” Cassian says finally, and Gods, he’s so tired. “Ok, Rhys.”

Cassian has two types of nightmares: the type where he’s back in Hybern, wings shredded, watching Nesta get shoved into the Cauldron, and the type where he’s suspended from the ceiling, forced to watch Amarantha torture his family one by one. Tonight, Nesta is in that horrible pit, screaming as Amarantha drags a sharp, crimson nail over her exposed stomach. Jurian’s eye bobs on her finger, that horrible pupil dilated and hungry. “Look at you,” the redhead croons into Nesta’s skin, tongue darting out to lap at the blood that pools on Nesta’s abdomen. “Aren’t you just delectable?” Cassian is frozen, he’s frozen, and he’s screaming and helpless and-

“Wake UP! ” Cassian snaps awake, panting and drenched in cold sweat, and she’s there, it’s Nesta, and she’s whole and unmarked and perfect.

“Nesta,” he breathes, letting his head drop as he gulps down air. She’s okay, he reminds himself. She’s okay.

“Yes,” she says, irritated. “You were screaming.”

“Oh.”

“Yes,” she says again, albeit with slightly less venom. “So.”

Cassian looks up at her, soft and rumpled in her sleeping garments, and is struck with an overwhelming fondness. Her hair is tangled, as if she’s been tossing and turning, and Cassian is suddenly struck by how tired she looks. “You weren’t sleeping,” Cassian says, and it isn’t a question.

“What I do at night is none of your business,” Nesta replies coldly, but Cassian ignores her.

“When did you last get a good night’s sleep?”

“When did you?”

They’re at a stalemate, then, hazel eyes on grey. Neither of them will back down first, that, at least, and the thought is almost reassuring. “Well,” Cassian finally says, “If neither of us are going to sleep, we might as well start training now.” This, he notes with pleasure, manages to surprise Nesta.

“What?” she asks, startled. “Don’t be ridi- it’s three in the morning, Cassian.” Cassian swallows hard at the sound of his name on her tongue.

“Yes, it is,” he says. “Now, I’m going to get out of bed, and it’s my duty as a gentleman-” he pauses, smirking at her predictable scoff- “to warn you that I sleep naked. So unless that’s something you want to see, I advise you to put on some proper clothes and meet me on the roof in ten minutes.”

The female steels her jaw, giving Cassian one last scathing look before stalking out. “Prick,” she hisses, and Cassian is reminded so powerfully of Feyre that he can’t help but smile as he heaves his aching body out of bed and pulls on some leggings. He steps to the balcony, lets the moonlight wash over his face, his broken wings.

“Your sister is a menace, Cursebreaker,” Cassian says to the stars, and he can almost see Feyre’s shit eating smirk. The youngest Archeron has always been too clever for her own good when it comes to everybody’s relationships but her own. For a quiet moment, he closes his eyes, breathing in the cool night air. “We’re going to bring you back. I promise.” The night seems to hum in agreement. “Spit in Tamlin’s food for me.”

With that, he turns, ready to face hurricane Nesta.

[kingofsummer93]

Ex Luna Scientia

Summary:

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

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

Or- an Elucien at Hogwarts AU.

Chapter 9: The Fawn and the Wolf

Ao3 Masterlist

“She actually said yes,” Vassa asked suspiciously. “Of her own free will? With no coercion involved?”

“Or blackmail?” Tamlin threw in.

“Was there dueling involved?” Jurian asked, scratching his chin.

“Thanks for the ringing endorsement, guys,” Lucien said drily. “And it’s not even a date. It’s a…tutoring session. She made that very clear.” No matter that in his mind it was definitely a date, but his friends didn’t need to know that.

Vassa threw him another suspicious look from where she lounged on Jurian’s bed. “Right. And that’s why you’ve been messing with your hair for an hour.”

Lucien immediately let his hands drop. “It’s just unruly today,” he mumbled gruffly.

“Not to mention the fact that this ‘tutoring session’ is happening after hours,” Tamlin said with a suggestive wriggle of his eyebrows.

“We’re not supposed to get help from other students for the tournament,” Lucien replied defensively. “This way if we get caught we can just say we were doing rounds.”

“Right. Rounds of the Room of Requirements. With snacks,” Jurian taunted.

“Brainfood,” Lucien replied with a smirk. “It’s important to be energized when trying to produce a patronus.”

Both Jurian and Tamlin let out barks of laughter that sounded more like their animagus than human. Vassa fixed him with another glare and pointed a menacing finger at him. “If I hear you were anything less than a perfect gentleman, I swear to god…”

“Yes, yes, you’ll cut off my dick, got it. Thanks, mom!”

His friends’ snickers echoed behind him as he hurried down the stairs and through the portrait hole. It was late, the hallways almost deserted save for a few lonely ghosts floating in and out of the stone walls.

When Lucien reached the seventh floor he came to a stop in front of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy teaching ballet to trolls. The trolls in tutus paused in their uncoordinated spinning to growl at him, brandishing their clubs menacingly.

Lucien took a deep breath to try and calm his racing nerves that had nothing to do with the growling trolls. He cared about astrology even less than he did about divination, but in that moment he sent up a silent thanks to whatever lucky stars had been on his side to make Elain say yes. He’d asked her out so many times he had almost lost hope that she’d say yes.

Not a date, he reminded himself. Just a study session.

He started pacing back and forth in front of the blank expanse of wall facing the tapestry, focusing on the exact room he needed. Elain had suggested they meet in an empty classroom, but Lucien hadn’t been able to resist showing off a little. He and Tamlin had discovered the Room of Requirements during their second year while running away from Filch, and since then it had come in handy countless times.

That he has hooked up with multiple girls in this room was not something Elain needed to know. Besides, it wasn’t like it would be the same room, just the same location.

After his third pass across the wall a door materialized out of thin air, and Lucien entered the room eagerly. The room had materialized as a large, high ceilinged space, made cozy by a roaring fire in a corner and shaggy rugs covering the stone floor. Candles hung in midair, their flickering light giving the space an almost (dare he think it?) romantic vibe. If someone had asked him to describe a room for a date-not-date with enough space to practice the patronus charm, this would have been it.

Lucien set his armful of baked goods on a side table next to the fireplace. The kitchen elves had been beside themselves with excitement when he had asked them to prepare him snacks, blushing and bowing at his effusive thanks. They could not have been more different than the elves who worked for his parents, all of them glum, ancient things who muttered under their breath whenever he so much as dared to ask them for something.

There was a polite knock on the door, and Lucien wiped his sweaty hands on his pants. Shit, what was wrong with him?

The door cracked open and Elain poked her head inside, her eyes going wide when she took in the space.

“Hey,” Lucien greeted her, forcing himself to relax. His stomach was doing somersaults just at the sight of her. He was so nervous that he wouldn’t have been surprised if she could hear his heart pound in his chest. “You found the room ok?”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth he wanted to kick himself. Obviously she’d found it ok, she was here, wasn’t she?

“What is this room?” Elain asked, looking around curiously. “I’ve walked by this tapestry before, I never noticed a door…”

Lucien grinned. “It’s called the Room of Requirements. It appears differently every time, depending on what you need it to be. Not many people know about it.”

Elain raised her eyebrows in surprise. “I don’t remember reading about it in Hogwarts: A History.”

“It’s not in the history books. Wouldn’t be much of a secret if it was.”

“How did you find it?” she asked suspiciously.

“Tam and I found it one day when we ahh…needed a place to take cover.”

Elain looked from the flickering candles above them to the roaring fireplace before noticing the little table piled with baked goods. She fixed Lucien with a pointed look and raised an eyebrow.

“What?” he asked, schooling his features into the portrait of innocence. “I’m just making sure you don’t go hungry. It takes a lot of strength to conjure a full patronus…”

“Yeah, yeah.” Elain rolled her eyes at him and ducked her head, but not before Lucien spotted a little smile quirking her lips.

“So um…should we get started?”

“Sure!” Elain said quickly. Was it his imagination, or did she sound slightly breathless?

They looked at each other awkwardly for a moment. “Right!” Lucien declared, trying to sound more confident than he felt. In truth he had been so elated at the prospect of an almost-date with Elain that he hadn’t fully planned out the tutoring part. In retrospect perhaps he should have asked Vassa about that.

He cleared his throat and came to stand beside her, facing the open, cavernous space. “Show me what you got, then!”

“Right…” Elain took out her wand and took a deep breath. She had ditched her school robes in favour of leggings and an oversized cream sweater, her face devoid of makeup as always. He couldn’t help but notice that her glasses were once again missing.

“How come you stopped wearing your glasses?” he blurted.

Elain paused with her wand halfway raised. “I’m not going to be able to concentrate if you keep running your mouth.” She was frowning at him but the blush staining her cheeks pink betrayed her.

“Sorry, sorry!” Lucien raised his palms apologetically but couldn’t stop himself from smirking slightly.

Elain took another deep breath and squared her shoulders. She was nervous. He didn’t even need his heightened wolf senses to see it. Something about that put him at ease.

“Relax,” he said gently. “I promise there won’t be a pop quiz later.”

She loosed a laugh, some of the tension easing from her shoulders. “Right. Here goes nothing. Just…don’t make fun of me, ok?”

Lucien clapped a hand to his heart in mock horror. “It wounds me that you would even consider…”

“Ok, ok. EXPECTO PATRONUM!”

A plume of silvery smoke shot out from the tip of her wand. It swirled around the room in a wide arc before drifting off towards the ceiling and dissolving into thin air.

“See? Pathetic…”

“Hardly,” Lucien said fiercely. “That’s more than some fully qualified witches and wizards are able to do.”

“Show me yours, then.”

Lucien snickered and opened his mouth to retort when Vassa’s stern voice echoed in his mind. Right. He was meant to behave.

“You got it.”

He took out his own wand and pictured his friends in his mind. Three grinning faces, shifting in unison into a wolf, a mountain lion, and an eagle. The mountain lion running for his life as the eagle swooped at him, her beak snapping menacingly. Ten-year old Tamlin bravely cracking jokes about pirates in his hospital room at St Mungo’s. A large hound, swift as a shadow, shifting into his smirking brother.

“EXPECTO PATRONUM!”

His voice echoed around the room as his patronus shot out from his wand. The fawn raced around the perimeter of the space, leaving a trail of blinding light behind it. When it had decided no threat was present it trotted back to Lucien, head held high.

“A fawn,” Elain said with a smile. “How sweet.”

The fawn dipped its head towards her as if in a bow, and then dispersed into mist.

“That’s…really impressive,” she added, almost reluctantly.

“Try again,” Lucien urged. “It’s like you said the other day. If I can do it there's no reason you can’t also.” Perhaps it was the subtle reminder about the tournament, but something in her gaze went steely.

Twenty minutes and as many attempts later, however, the most Elain had conjured up was a larger mass of white light.

“I think I saw a leg on that one,” Lucien said encouragingly.

Elain shot him a look before dropping onto one of the floor pillows with a huff. “I give up,” she declared. “I can’t do it.”

“Maybe you’re not thinking of something powerful enough.”

Elain’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

“I mean, clearly you’re capable of conjuring a patronus,” Lucien continued. “Even a non-corporeal patronus is extremely advanced magic. Maybe you just need to…mean it more.”

“Maybe it would help if there were dementors swarming the castle,” Elain replied with a forced laugh. She was trying to seem unbothered but Lucien could see the defeat in her eyes.

He didn’t know why he cared so much, only that he hated to see her so unsure of herself.

“What do you think about?” he prompted, dropping onto a cushion next to her. “When you’re trying to cast the spell?”

Elain fiddled with the cuffs of her sweater, not meeting his gaze. “That’s very personal, you know.”

“Sorry, I’m just trying to help…”

Elain bit her lip before loosening a breath. “My family,” she said in a small voice. “How things were, before my mother died, and…everything else happened.”

Something tightened around Lucien’s heart like a vice at the pain now filling her eyes.

“We had the most beautiful gardens at our house in Little Whinging,” she continued. “I used to spend all day outside, from sunrise to sundown. My parents used to think it was the landscapers, but…”

“But it was all you.”

Lucien desperately wanted to reach for her hand but somehow restrained himself. A heavy silence fell around them, interrupted only by the crackling fire in the hearth.

“Is it possible that maybe that doesn’t just bring you joy, but pain, too?” Lucien asked quietly. “You have to think of something that’s pure joy and hope, something that’s not tinged by melancholy or regret.”

“What do you think about, then?” Elain asked, a touch defensively.

My friends, and the fact that they became illegal animagi for me. And my brother, who stands by me and faces the consequences from our father because of it.

“Flying,” he lied smoothly. “I think about how it feels to fly, with the wind rushing by and the city stretching out underneath me. I think about how freeing that is, and how nothing is wrong in those moment.” It wasn’t entirely a lie but it wasn’t the whole truth either.

Elain fell quiet, her gaze unfocused as she seemed to drift off into her own memories.

“You really shouldn’t feel bad,” Lucien said somewhat awkwardly, at a loss for what else to say. “A full corporeal patronus is even past N.E.W.T level. I only know because Eris taught me.”

Lucien could remember vividly the day he’d seen a dementor for the first time. He’d gone into the Ministry with his mum during the summer after his third year at Hogwarts. As soon as they had stepped out of the emerald green flames of the Floo Network and into the vast lobby, he had felt it. That cold- unnatural and eerie, like the world had gone dark and nothing would ever be right again. The usually bustling lobby had been deathly quiet, and a chill had gone down Lucien’s spine. And then they had floated past, accompanied by an uncomfortable-looking ministry worker. Tall, hooded, and lifeless, leaving a trail of despair behind them as if it were a physical thing.

One of the dementors had turned to Lucien and he could have sworn that it drifted a little towards him before getting herded back in line by the ministry worker. As if it had scented what Lucien was even from across the lobby.

“Let me try again,” Elain said suddenly, jumping to her feet. She rolled her sleeves up and planted her feet as if she was facing an opponent and not an empty room.

“That’s my girl!”

Elain turned to glare at him. “That’s…just an expression…” Lucien added with a grin.

But what he wouldn’t do for it to be true, especially when she glared at him like that.

She held his gaze for a beat longer, and something about the way she was looking at him made his heart speed up. A little smile bloomed on her lips, and then she whirled around and threw her arm out.

“EXPECTO PATRONUM!”

A mass of silvery light erupted from her wand, at first nothing more than a cloud of blinding white, and then- legs, a snout, a strong, powerful back. The creature ran around the room, as Lucien’s fawn had, trailing blinding light in its wake.

“You did it!”

Elain broke out into incredulous laughter, her big brown eyes reflecting the white light of her patronus. “A wolf! That’s not what I expected!”

Lucien looked at the animal again, and his stomach lurched. A wolf yes, but- taller, leaner, with longer limbs than the average wolf. Not a wolf, exactly, but more like a…

“It almost looks like the Grim!” Elain exclaimed in sudden horror.

Lucien forced himself to laugh, even though his heart was now beating a staccato rhythm in his chest. “Now you sound like Professor Suriel. Although that would be a pretty badass patronus.”

The patronus slinked up to Elain on silent feet and raised its snout in a silent howl. “I like him!” she declared. “Whatever he is.”

What he was was definitely, without a doubt, a werewolf, but Lucien would not be the one to tell her that. He wouldn’t even let himself consider the significance of Elain’s patronus manifesting itself as a werewolf, of all things…

“You should call him Moony.” As soon as the joke slipped past his lips Lucien cringed.

Elain whirled towards him, her sweet-scented curls almost whipping him in the face. “You think my patronus is a werewolf?”

Shit. Shit, shit shit.

“No! I just meant, um, you know. Wolves howl at the moon, and all that…” It sounded lame to his own ears.

They both turned back to the creature that still hovered around Elain, its sharp eyes scanning the high ceiling. “Definitely just a big wolf. Who knew that would be the animal you would have the most affinity with. I would have thought it’d be a kitten.”

Elain rolled her eyes at him. “I wouldn’t have thought yours would be a baby deer,” she taunted back. Her patronus drifted off into mist, and Lucien breathed a sigh of relief.

“Ahh, well. I told you if you’d agree to go out with me you’d find out if I was a good guy or not. Now you know I’m as innocent as a baby deer.”

“I somehow still doubt that.” She rolled her eyes again, even as a faint blush crept up her cheeks.

“What did you think about?” he blurted. He needed to know what had prompted her patronus to manifest itself in that form.

Her blush deepened as she looked up at him. She bit her lip, hesitating, and Lucien had to restrain himself from grabbing her face and kissing her right then and there.

“I was thinking about when you took me flying on your bike,” she admitted. Her blush had intensified to a delicious rosy tint that rose all the way to her hairline.

“Is that so?” he asked a little hoarsely. He took a small step towards her, half expecting her to step away from him, but she only tilted her head back to hold his gaze.

“Yes,” she whispered. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed thickly. If he pressed a hand to her heart would he feel it beating as rapidly as his own?

“Maybe we can do it again sometime.”

“Maybe.”

Lucien reached for a strand of her golden brown curls, letting it run through his fingers like silk.

“Can I tell you something?”

His hand drifted to the back of her neck, fingers tangling into her thick curls. She nodded, chest heaving from her quickening breaths.

He leaned down until their faces were inches apart. “I want to kiss you so badly.”

Elain’s breath hitched, but still she didn’t step back. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips and Lucien nearly whined at the sight.

“Is that so?”

“Yes. I’ve been desperate to kiss you since the moment we met.”

Another sharp inhale. Lucien was used to saying things like this to girls, but for once he actually meant every word.

“Can I ask you something?” Elain asked, slightly breathlessly.

“Yes.”

“Why me?”

Lucien blinked in surprise, lifting his head slightly to meet her gaze. Her eyes were wide, her pupils dilated, but filled with enough uncertainty that Lucien hated himself for every shitty thing he’d ever done to earn his reputation.

“You could have any girl,” she continued. “Why me? Is it because I keep saying I’m not interested?”

“Is that what you think? That this is some kind of game for me?”

But why wouldn’t that be what she thought?

“I don’t know,” she murmured, lowering her gaze.

“Look at me.”

When she kept her eyes aimed at the ground he pressed a finger to her chin to tilt her face up. “I thought you were supposed to be the smart one here.”

Her eyes glittered as a little smile bloomed on her lips. “I am the smart one here.”

“Then tell me something. If I kiss you right now are you going to slap me?”

Elain loosed a laugh, her breath tickling his lips. “I thought you liked it when I slap you.”

“Maybe I do…” he murmured.

He leaned down further, one hand still cradling the back of her neck, the other lifting to cup her cheek. Elain’s eyes fluttered closed and any lingering doubt instantly dissolved.

Thank god, or thank you Mars, or Venus, or whatever combination of planets and stars was currently in orbit…

Lucien pressed his lips to hers in the softest of kisses- more of a brush of lips than an actual kiss. Elain sighed against his lips, her hands snaking up to rest against his chest, and he had to resist the urge to pull her back down to the floor cushion and kiss her senseless. That was fine for some girl whose name he could barely remember, but not for Elain.

He pulled back for a split second, gauging her reaction, and when he kissed her again it was still gentle, but firm and deliberate. Her lips tasted the way she smelled- sweet and fresh, like candy dissolving on his tongue.

He was just deciding that this is how he wanted to die when Elain gasped and stumbled back, pushing against his chest. Her eyes were wide with alarm, her cheeks still flushed a rosy pink. She lifted her fingertips to her lips, frowning at him.

“Sorry,” Lucien blurted automatically. “I’m sorry, I…” Had he read the moment wrong? He was sure he hadn’t, but…

Elain shook her head, her breathing slightly ragged. “No, it’s not you, it’s…” She dropped her fingers from her lips and frowned, her vision going slightly unfocused as she continued to look at him with a mix of wariness and alarm.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Clearly you did, you absolute git…

“No!” she again, though the way she kept looking at him indicated otherwise.

“I’m sorry, I thought…”

“It’s not you, I just…” Elain gulped, now looking anywhere but at him. “I think all the patronus charms gave me a migraine…” She winced as she said it, as if it sounded false to her own ears.

“Oh,” he murmured lamely. “Are you sure?”

Elain nodded fervently and walked over to the little table by the fireplace where a pitcher of water had suddenly appeared. She poured herself a glass with shaky hands and drained it.

Maybe she simply was feeling unwell, he told himself desperately. She did look a little pale.

Or maybe she changed her mind because you’re an ass.

“It’s late,” she said without looking at him. “We should probably go to bed…”

“Right,” Lucien replied, swallowing his disappointment. “You should go to Madam Madja tomorrow if you still have a migraine. She brews a pretty potent pain tonic.”

Elain’s eyes snapped back towards him sharply, her gaze filled with a wild mix of emotion he couldn’t read. “Sure,” she said slowly. “I will…”

They walked out of the Room of Requirements in taunt silence, pausing at the stairs where Elain would walk down to the Hufflepuff common room and Lucien could go up to Gryffindor tower.

“Um..”

“Look…”

They both laughed nervously. “Thank you for helping me,” Elain cut in before he could say anything. “I really appreciate it.”

“It was no trouble, really.”

“And, um…” She shuffled on her feet awkwardly. “I’m really sorry about…about reacting like that, it’s just, these migraines come on really suddenly sometimes.” “Sure, no, of course. You don’t need to apologize.”

She looked at him pleadingly, and was it his imagination, or was that what looked like regret in her eyes? Most likely it was his imagination, but, then again- she could have brushed him off, couldn’t she? Why bother to come up with an excuse at all?

“Goodnight, Lucien.”

“Sweet dreams, Archie.”

Elain smiled at that before disappearing down the stairs on silent feet, leaving him to ponder how it had all gone from so right to so wrong.

—

Elain did not, in fact, have sweet dreams. When she returned to her dormitory she was immediately accosted by her friends, and it was only after feigning a migraine and promising to give them the scoop in the morning that she was allowed to draw the curtains around her four-poster bed.

She didn’t even bother to change into pajamas before flopping to the bed on her back and staring at the canopy above. There was no way she would sleep tonight. Not after what had happened, and certainly not after what she had seen.

Guilt roiled in her stomach as she remembered the look on Lucien’s face as she pushed him away. He’d looked so wrecked with guilt and confusion that she suddenly felt tears burn behind her eyes.

He’d been so sweet, so gentle- no trace of the cocky, arrogant clown who got himself into trouble every other week. Just Lucien, and his warm hands on her face, and his lips pressed to hers in a kiss that had at once been chaste but had also managed to light her on fire.

Could she have imagined it? Was it simply her mind playing tricks on her after the energy spent working on her patronus, and the dizzying, giddy feeling of kissing Lucien? She’d never had a proper vision while she was awake before, after all. It had only ever come to her while she was sleeping.

She shut her eyes, telling herself she was just tired and that maybe she did have a migraine, after all. Migraines sometimes gave people hallucinations, didn’t they?

But sleep wouldn’t come, and neither did dreams.

All she could see was the giant, muscular beast, silhouetted against the full moon.

The whomping willow thrashed behind it, as if inviting it for a fight, but the animal’s eyes were firmly locked on her, its jaws open in a snarl. The moonlight illuminated its nightmarish face, reflecting off its eyes with a curiously golden glow.

Four legs, a long snout, powerful muscles poised to attack. Something that looked eerily like her patronus. A wolf, but not quite.

Not the Grim, either, but something she had only ever seen in textbooks.

[separatist-apologist]

I can see Eris telling embarrassing stories about Lucien to Elain and Lucien just has to sit there and take it. Do a one shot of that!

YES this is what I'm talking about.

Lucien had meant to be back sooner, honestly. Velaris was starting to grow on him, despite the brutally cold winter that seemed unending. He supposed the winter was made tolerable by the fact that his mate, sweet, kind Elain, was practically living in his apartment in the city. He hadn’t formally asked her to stay forever—though it was very much implied—and she hadn’t mentioned going back home since they’d spent the night together two months earlier. She just…quietly continued to bring things over and fold them neatly in his drawers, and Lucien acted like everything was very normal and he was not waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He would have been home before the sun set had it not been for another of Jurian and Vassa’s squabbles. He’d been roped in the middle, unable to escape despite the fact that he was very aware their fights were just foreplay, foreplay he very much did not want to be part of.

He was eager to see Elain, to see if she’d added another plant to the window or if she’d rearranged another room in his apartment to her liking or just to feel her arms around his neck, her breathless words welcoming him home with her bright, shining eyes. He slid his key into the front door, practically squirming in the cold as wind whipped his hair around his face. He heard soft voices laughing in the living room, silenced when the door closed behind him.

“Lucien?” Elain called, the sound of her footsteps echoing down the hall. She appeared, her eyes bright, cheeks stained red with laughter.

“Sorry I’m late,” he told her, hanging his cloak on a hook by the door before he pulled her against him. “Do we have company or can we go upstairs…and talk?”

She flushed at the innuendo, her fingers toying with his hair. “We do. I hope you don’t mind but—”

“Baby Lucien,” Eris crooned from the hall, arms crossed over his chest. “I stopped by to bring my sister a gift and she was so kind to offer me dinner.”

“Eris has been telling me stories about your childhood,” Elain added breathlessly, clearly somehow charmed by the eldest Vanserra. Lucien held Elain to his chest, looking over her head with narrowed eyes at the mock innocence on his brother’s face.

“Oh?”

Eris grinned wickedly. “Such a curious, lovely mate you have.”

Lucien forced himself to smile because Elain was gazing up at him with such admiration and he couldn’t bring himself to ruin her good mood.

“Eris brought me a fern from the Forest House,” Elain added breathlessly, tugging Lucien by the hand to the living room to show him her newest acquisition. She’d hung the leafy plant from the ceiling, no doubt with Eris’ help given how short she was, from one of her knitted pot holders.

“They don’t require too much sun,” Eris explained innocently. With Elain’s back turned to Lucien, he gestured wildly for Eris to get the fuck out.

“What? I didn’t understand what you said,” Eris drawled, drawing Elain’s attention back towards the pair of them. Eris promptly sat back on Lucien’s cream-colored sofa, ankle crossed over his knee, and reached for his delicate white and pink tea cup that seemed so out of place in his hands. Elain scurried to the other seat, leaving Lucien to occupy a chair across the room. She began pouring tea from her porcelain, flower etched tray, sitting neatly atop his dark wooden coffee table, clearly meant for him.

“I was telling Elain about the time you came running through the throne room in nothing but your cloak,” Eris began, amusement curling his words. “Do you remember?”

Lucien closed his eyes for a beat, trying not to remember how the courtiers laughed for years after, how they’d made veiled jokes about his penis well into adulthood.

Elain looked up, pouring cream and scooping sugar into his cup exactly as he liked it. She was an angel, he decided. He would allow Eris this memory to make her happy, but afterwards he would make up for his suffering by dragging her off to his bed and refusing to let her leave for the rest of the night…and most of the next day.

“I was six,” he reminded Eris.

“True. Tell Elain about the gang you started. What were they called, again?” Eris, the actual devil, asked. Elain turned, eyebrows raised.

“You had a gang?” She asked him with such wide-eyed optimism it took everything in his body not to slide down his chair. Lucien took the tea cup from her hands, fingers brushing her knuckles. Maybe he could flood the bond with all the sexually inappropriate things he’d like to do to her and she’d get distracted and tell Eris to shove it—

“We weren’t a gang,” he muttered, burning his mouth as he took a drink. “We just had matching jackets.”

“So you did,” Eris replied, his shoulders shaking as he tried to hold in his laughter. Eris was unmatched in this arena, considering by the time Lucien had been born, Eris had been in his thirties, a man in all the ways that counted. It certainly didn’t help that Lucien, a boy who didn’t know any better, had hero worshipped his eldest brother, giving Eris a front-row seat to the most awkward years of his life.

“I think that’s sweet,” Elain assured Lucien earnestly.

“What did you want to be when you grew up, Elain?” Eris asked, evil gleam in his eye. She thought about it for a moment, really considering his question as though it had any merit and wasn’t just another opportunity for Eris to embarrass Lucien.

“I wanted to own a little flower shop,” she told the pair of them. Eris hesitated, some emotion warring in his expression.

“Do you need a financial backer? Why haven’t you done it?” Eris demanded while Lucien chuckled from his chair. Eris might be embarrassing him, but Elain very clearly had Eris wrapped around her finger.

“Ask him for a dog,” Lucien prodded. Elain’s eyes went wide but Eris was one step ahead.

“Do you want a puppy?”

“I—”

“I’ll let you know when the next litter is born,” Eris interrupted smoothly. “And Lucien wanted to be a mommy when he a boy.”

“Really?” Elain asked breathlessly. “You want children?”

Lucien and Eris’ eyes met and Lucien couldn’t resist the smug smirk he levied at his brother. Fuck you, he knew his expression screamed. You just did me a major favor.

“Sorry I loved my mom when I was little,” Lucien told Eris smoothly while Elain stared at Lucien with bright, affectionate eyes. “And yeah, I want to be a dad. Do you want—”

“Nope,” Eris interrupted quickly, standing. “Way to ruin a fun day, Lucien. Elain, you have been lovely,” he assured her, sweeping into a deep bow. “Please keep in touch…I’m sure there are more Autumn flowers that would look stunning in your home. I’ll let you know about the puppies, too…though keep this one away from their treats. He used to eat them.

Lucien slid down the back of his chair at Eris’ words, embarrassment heating his cheeks when Elain giggled.

“Lucien…be nice to my sister.” Eris finished before striding out of the room. Elain, an immaculate hostess, followed after him to thank him for the afternoon and welcome him back whenever. Lucien wished she wasn’t so liberal with her time or their home when it came to Eris. She returned to the living room a moment later, a smile tugging on her pretty, pink lips. Lucien stood, arms extended, and pulled her into his chest.

“I don’t get why everyone dislikes him,” she said with a sweet sigh. “He’s nice.”

“He’s a menace,” Lucien disagreed. She looked up, chin pressed against his tunic.

“Maybe…but it’s pretty obvious he adores you.”

Lucien scoffed. “Adores embarrassing me, maybe.”

Elain sighed, tucking herself into his embrace. “Were you embarrassed? I thought his stories were sweet.” Perhaps Eris misjudged Elain, he thought, stroking her hair. While Eris had been trying to get a rise out of Lucien, maybe Eris had inadvertently made Lucien look better in her eyes. He couldn’t be angry about that, he decided. He’d take what he could get.

“What was the name of your gang?” She asked, interrupting his musings with a soft giggle. Lucien groaned. “The dandy-lions…because we were…we were both fierce with swords…and the ladies.”

Elain was shaking with laughter, her face pressed into his chest to muffle the sound. “That’s…no…that’s so cute. I’m not laughing at you I swear…you were…what—”

“Fifteen,” he grumbled as a new wave of laughter overtook her. It took her a moment to calm herself enough to gasp out, “That’s nice that you had friends.”

Lucien swept her up and turned towards the stairs. “What are you doing?” She asked, her words breathless for an entirely different reasons, hands clinging to his neck.

“Living up to my reputation,” he replied. Elain dissolved into a new fit of giggles even as Lucien tossed her on his bed.

“Fierce with the ladies?” She asked, reaching for a pillow to shove over her face while her shoulders shook.

“Exactly,” he agreed.