#OR FIND A MAN AS WONDERFUL AS LUCIEN | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

clockwork-ashes · 4 months ago

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Day 1 - Fated

happy elucien week and thank you to @elucienweekofficial i have been so so excited!!!! this is a short one-shot :)

Elain watched as streaks of light fell from the sky.

Beautiful, a storm of blues and greens and whites, contrasting with the vast and endless darkness.

Elain was completely captivated, her own wonder mixing with Lucien’s as his emotions travelled down their shared bond. She pushed away from the balcony’s rail, biting her lip nervously as she glanced his way.

Lucien was smiling as he looked up at the sky, the falling stars reflected in his russet and golden eyes. Red hair fell in a braid down his back, looking lovely against his blue jacket. He was so handsome, and he belonged wholly to her, she thought.

“So, what do you think?” Elain asked softly, placing a gentle hand on his arm.

Lucien turned to face her, shaking his head as he laughed. “It’s unbelievable, the solstice isn’t like this in any of the other courts,” he admitted.

Elain trailed her fingers up past his shoulders, letting her hand rest loosely on his neck. In response, he grabbed onto her waist, pulling her close. She leaned into his touch, tilting her chin up, going onto the tips of her toes, as he bent his head towards her.

“Lucien,” she breathed, just before their lips came together. She grabbed onto his jacket, pulling him closer, his mouth moving against hers.

Elain could not help releasing a soft moan as Lucien slipped his tongue past her lips, as he brought a large hand to her face and cupped her cheek. He tasted like home.

Elain woke with a start, her chest rising and falling in time with the rapid beat of her heart as she sat up, nearly knocking into the headboard.

“Just a dream,” she mumbled in an attempt to reassure herself, running shaky fingers through her tangled curls. It had felt so real, he had felt so real, that Elain was dizzy with desire.

She clenched her thighs together as she remembered the way Lucien had kissed her lips, a promise for more in the way he had held her tightly to his broad chest.

And she did not even know him, the thought rushed over her like cold water.

Elain still knew very little of being fae, she had not wanted this life, but had come to slowly accept her fate in the Night Court. She knew even less about mating bonds, what they meant and why they were so important, and while Lucien was a stranger to her, she could not shake the incessant feeling that he was familiar.

He is yours.

It was the quietest of whispers in the back of her mind, pushing her to claim a man she barely spoke to.

Elain fell back onto her pillows with a frustrated groan, attempting and failing to think of literally anything but her mate.

“Lucien Vanserra,” she whispered into the small space of her bedroom. Even the way his name fell from her lips was familiar, like she had said it before in another life, countless times.

Elain was still thinking about Lucien as she got ready for the day, choosing a dress in a blue that had matched his jacket from her dream unthinkingly. As she passed by a mirror in the upstairs corridor of the townhouse, she scowled at her reflection, but ultimately decided she was not going to change.

Elain considered this fated mate business absolutely ridiculous. Lucien Vanserra, stranger that he was, should hardly be capable of influencing her basic decisions. She felt as her lips turned downwards into a frown, the golden thread at her rib aching in response to her negative thoughts. She brought a hand up to absently touch the spot near her heart, finding that it was beating unusually fast.

Elain had not realised that her shoulders had curved slightly inwards in defeat, and she quickly adjusted her posture as she continued down the stairs, ever the perfect lady. She spotted Feyre walking past the arch leading into the living room and hoped her younger sister had not accidentally wandered into her mind, knowing if she had, a million curious questions would soon follow.

“Morning, Elain,” Feyre said with a grin, waving a tattooed hand.

Elain would have responded had she not nearly tripped on the last step as she saw who had followed her sister into the space.

Lucien walked elegantly, like men in a ballroom, yet it came to him naturally, hardly forced. He was wearing a loose shirt, a black brocade waistcoat capturing her attention. The dark colour suited him, Elain thought, just as a wave of horror crashed over her.

Elain grabbed onto the railing for support as his lips tilted up into a devastating smile. He politely bowed his head in greeting, and she had to stop herself from swooning as their gazes met.

Elain felt her cheeks heat, suddenly sure that a blush had turned her pale complexion a dark scarlet. She took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself, and almost stumbled once more.

Lucien’s scent lingered in the air, smelling of early mornings and fresh apples. She wanted to lean into him, move impossibly close to him. Her eyes widened as they fell to the golden brown triangle of skin revealed at his neck.

Touch him.

Elain wanted to place her hand on his shoulders, to feel his skin beneath her palms, to run her fingers through his hair. Her dream flashed clearly in her mind’s eye and she wanted—

Feyre cleared her throat, dragging Elain back to the present. Lucien was staring at her with a confused tilt to his head, a bit expectantly, like he was waiting for her to say something.

Elain realised with embarrassment that he must have spoken to her, and as she glanced to her sister, Feyre’s expression mirroring that of her mate’s, her lips dropped open as she struggled to find her words.

She made a choked sound, wanting to find a deep hole in the ground and simply lay in it until the world stopped spinning. “I…” she swallowed, tearing her eyes from Lucien’s. “I forgot something.” Then she whirled on her heal and skipped up the stairs two steps at a time, hoping Feyre would not follow.

When Elain reached her bedroom, she felt the fingers of both her hands curl into fists. She had never wanted to become fae, had never really liked the idea of immortality, and had wanted to live in the human lands with a husband she had chosen.

Elain was angry, unbelievably angry at the unfairness of it all, and who better to blame than the man currently just a staircase away, she thought. Her nails digging painfully into the skin of her palms, Elain decided she would live her life as though Lucien Vanserra was not her mate.

* * *

Elain hummed softly to herself, the tune one she had heard at a local coffee shop hours before. Pink skirts flared around her as she sat on the cool grass, a pair of enchanted gloves on her hands as she pruned roses a startling shade of purple.

“Not too hot out here?” She heard Lucien’s question and turned towards the sound of his voice.

Blowing a curl from where it had fallen in front of her face, Elain smiled up at him. “A little warm, I won’t be out much longer,” she reassured, squinting a bit at the brightness.

Lucien looked like he was wearing a golden crown, she noticed, the sun’s rays giving him a regal appearance despite his casual attire. “I could get you some water,” he offered, providing her with a little more shade as he stood close by.

Elain shrugged, patting the ground next to her. “Or, you could sit for a minute, and then we can get lunch.”

Lucien dropped to the ground rather suddenly and Elain heard herself giggle. “Whatever you want,” he said, their shoulders touching as he leaned towards her.

He pressed his nose to the crook of her neck and Elain could not help but release a content sigh. Lucien moved her braid to the opposite shoulder, kissing the space beneath her jaw and Elain tilted her head to give him better access.

Lucien hummed appreciatively, kissing her one last time, and Elain had to hold back a pout as he moved to lay back into the grass, all his weight resting on his elbows. She must have done a terrible job at hiding her disappointment because he raised an amused brow at her.

Elain shook her head, trying and failing miserably to focus on the roses. She made the mistake of casting one final look at Lucien, his face turned up towards the sun, eyes closed, a soft glow to his brown skin. She was struck with the sudden urge to bite him, to leave a mark and claim him as her own.

“Change of plans,” Elain started, her attention entirely on her mate and no longer on her gardens. She sat up on her knees, inching closer to him as she spoke. “We go inside, take a bath together, and then go for lunch.”

Lucien opened his russet eye, a lazy smile going over his features. “Whatever you want, Elain,” he said again.

Elain wanted to kiss him, and since he had offered…

Adjusting her skirts, Elain put a leg over his waist, sitting squarely on his lap. She shifted her hips, getting comfortable as his golden eye clicked into place, the other one dark with desire. He was unable to reach for her, still resting on his elbows, and Elain could smell his arousal mixing with the scent of the flowers.

Elain took off her enchanted gloves, slowly, drawing out the moment before she leaned over him. “Lucien,” she said softly, her hand coming up to cup his jaw, the feeling of his scar familiar beneath her fingers.

Elain saw as Lucien’s eyelids fluttered shut, and she moved closer, placing a featherlight kiss on the scar that cut across his lips.

Elain woke up to the sound of a book falling against the hardwood floors. The thick cover made a loud noise and she was quick to open her eyes. Her lower back was a little sore and it took her a moment to realise that she had fallen asleep at her desk.

Elain stretched her arms out in front of her, mind once again turning to Lucien. She scowled as she thought about the gentle way he had spoken to her, at the way he looked up at her almost reverently.

The gloves he had gifted her for the solstice were lovely, a perfect present considering how often her regular gardening gloves ruined and she had to buy a new pair. Yet, Elain knew she was stubborn enough to never use them.

Remembering how Feyre had given the gloves to her a few weeks ago with a knowing smile had made her blood boil. Lucien was a stranger, she wanted to yell, it was hardly proper of him to be getting her things, especially on important holidays.

Instead, Elain had accepted the carefully wrapped box and had opened it in the privacy of her bedroom. The gloves had smelled like apples, like her mate, and Elain had thrown them into the drawer of her desk, wanting absolutely nothing to do with them.

As Elain got up from her armchair, the wooden legs screeching in her rush, she opened the drawer with a bang. She grabbed the gloves roughly in her hands and wished she was strong enough to tear them to pieces.

Elain walked with certain steps towards the fireplace, and she threw the gloves into the roaring flames. As the fabric was engulfed, catching alight easily, she considered perhaps that her dreams might not be simple figments of her imagination.

After the war, Elain had not suffered from her visions, but if she was seeing snippets of the future in her sleep, she would do anything to try and avoid the dreams becoming a reality.

The smell of the burning gift was sharp in the small space, and Elain took a deep breath, going to her desk without looking back.

* * *

Elain was wearing a ball gown the colour of the sky at dawn.

It was a perfect dress to celebrate the solstice in the Hewn City, going from a bright blue to a deep violet and trailing along the floor as she walked beside Lucien. Elain was glad she was not expected to dance, sure that her slippered feet would get tangled in the skirts no matter how hard she tried.

There were pearls in her hair, her curls carefully pinned back, revealing her neck and the tops of her shoulders. It was a bit revealing for humans’ standards, but Elain was becoming increasingly more comfortable with the Night Court’s fashion. Hanging off her pointed ears were the loveliest pearl earrings, completing her look and tying it all together beautifully.

Elain looked like a queen, and Lucien did not seem at all bothered by the admiring gazes others cast in their direction.

“I think I prefer to celebrate the solstice in Velaris,” Lucien murmured against the arch of her ear.

Elain nearly shivered at the feeling of his moving lips, wishing they were somewhere more private so she could grab onto the lapels of his jacket and pull him in for a kiss. “We still get to go out for Starfall,” she said in response, trying to push aside any thoughts of what she planned to do to him later in the evening.

Lucien placed a hand onto her waist, and she leaned into his warmth, back arching into his touch.

Elain sat up suddenly, her bed creaking as she woke up before her dream could become worse. Her heart was beating quickly, her chest rising and falling as if she had run up a flight of stairs.

Elain looked outside her window to see that moonlight was still filtering in through the curtains, and she came to the conclusion that it must have been late in the night. Frustrated at another dream with her mate, Elain grabbed onto her pillow and pressed it to her face, releasing a short scream, the sound muffled.

Her little outburst had made her feel a bit better, so she did it once again, hoping no one happened to walk by her room. “Just a silly dream,” Elain mumbled, throwing the blankets off her legs and putting her pillow back in its place.

She sat on the edge of her bed, opening the drawer of her nightstand. In the darkness, she rummaged through her socks, biting her lip in concentration until her fingers dragged along a wooden box.

Elain removed it from the drawer, her shoulders relaxing as she flipped open the lid. The pearl earrings Lucien had gifted her remained inside, pinned to a light blue pillow, looking lovely despite the lack of light in the space.

Elain huffed in defeat as she pulled one from its place, letting it dangle in front of her eyes as she decided that she could not, in fact, destroy this gift. She wondered if they were expensive, if Lucien had bought them to impress her with his wealth or if there had been a part of him that simply knew she would have adored such lovely earrings.

Putting them back in her drawer and covering the little box with her socks, Elain fell back onto her mattress. Staring at the ceiling, she wished one more time to anyone who might have been listening to her prayers, that she did not have a mate.

* * *

Elain crawled under the white sheets, trying her absolute best not to wake her still sleeping mate. She had placed a freshly baked apple tart onto the nightstand after having tiptoed into the room she shared with Lucien. As soon as she selfishly tried to snuggle up against him, though, he took a deep breath.

Elain paused, but it was too late and he shifted. “Where did you go?” He mumbled, scrunching his nose endearingly as he slowly opened his eyes.

Elain put a hand on his chest, his skin warm to the touch. “I went to grab something to eat.” She had to stop herself from grinning, absolutely positive he would catch on to her intentions and ruin the surprise she had been planning for the last several weeks.

Lucien hummed in response, pulling her closer as he rubbed at his eyes with his other hand. He kissed her temple before he asked, “What time is it?”

Elain shook her head, breathing a small laugh. “I didn’t even check,” she said with a smile, knowing they had slept in longer than was perhaps appropriate.

“I had a meeting with Rhys.” He looked towards the window, where the sun was afternoon bright.

“Oh no,” Elain said, not necessarily caring about her sister’s mate and what he might have wanted. Hearing her tone and recognizing it may have sounded rude, she cleared her throat. “At what time?”

Lucien adjusted his hold on Elain so that he hovered just above her, laughing. “I can’t remember.”

If it had been any other morning, Elain would have wrapped her legs around his hips, would have let him take off the nightgown she had thrown on, and would have let him do as he pleased. Instead, she put her hands around his neck, kissing his cheek. “Lucien, I think you should eat something.”

His eyes darkened, his desire clear. “I plan to,” he said, voice low, before he trailed his lips along her collar bone.

Elain had to clench her thighs, reminding herself she needed to give Lucien the dessert she had baked. She gently pushed his shoulder, sitting up slightly as she reached for the apple tart, Lucien’s eyes widening as she held it between them.

Lucien looked between the sweet and his mate, golden eye whirring, familiar. Elain watched as he swallowed, could feel the nervous beat of his heart. “Is that…”

“To accept the bond,” Elain rushed to explain. “I wanted to make something special, your favourite. I spoke with your brother about the recipe, hopefully it tastes like the ones in Autumn.” She would have continued had Lucien not taken the dessert from her outstretched hands.

Lucien was smiling, heartbreakingly handsome, as he kissed her.

Elain’s heart was pounding as she woke up, the sound of Lucien’s own heartbeat in her ears. She could have screamed, wanting to break something within arm’s reach if only to satisfy the angry creature she became whenever he decided to visit Rhysand and Feyre.

She quickly pulled on a simple dress, throwing her hair back messily with a ribbon, before going downstairs. Elain had hoped the little bit of distance would ease her nerves, the bond pulled taut whenever Lucien was near, but she was greatly disappointed at how useless the action had been.

Elain pulled a large metal bowl from under the sink, grabbing flour and water before mixing them together until she was happy with the consistency. Baking calmed her, just as gardening did, but as her mind turned to the idea of fated mates over and over, she could feel her growing frustration.

Elain punched at the dough rather violently, surprised at how much better she felt, and decided to repeat the gesture. She had never wanted a mate, was shackled to a man she barely knew, and she wanted to hate him.

He is mine.

“What has the flour ever done to you?”

Elain almost dropped the bowl at the sound of the rich voice coming from the door to the kitchen. She turned around quickly, a look of horror going over her features as she spotted Lucien in his night clothes.

“Can I help you?” Elain asked, the question coming across as combative even to her own ears.

Lucien shrugged, “I’m just here to make my morning coffee.” When Elain did not respond, he raised a brow at her. “Is that alright?”

Elain was taken aback at how considerate he was, given how often she ignored his presence. “Yes,” she nodded, the movement so quick she figured she must look ridiculous. “Yes, of course.”

Once he had been given permission, Lucien went about his business and Elain turned her attention to the dough she had been kneeding. Holding her breath as he moved closer so as not to become distracted by his scent, Elain kept her eyes purposefully to the ground.

“Could you pass me the sugar?” He asked, standing behind her but at a respectful distance. Elain was struck with the sudden realisation that if she refused, he would simply drink his coffee without any sugar.

Without speaking, she opened the cupboard just above her head, getting onto the tips of her toes to reach the jar. Elain finally looked up to meet his mismatched eyes as she handed it to him.

“Thank you,” Lucien said softly, seemingly unable to tear his gaze from her.

As soon as their fingers touched, Elain felt a small spark come to life inside her, sure that if she was careless, it would become a roaring fire.

Elain pulled away, stepping back and bumping into the counter behind her rather painfully. To end the awkwardness, she blurted loudly, “Do you like apple tarts?”

The question hung in the air between them, like so many other things left unsaid, Lucien could have chosen not to answer. Elain was happy when he raised an auburn brow at her.

“They happen to be my favourite dessert,” he answered her honestly, russet eye searching her face, although Elain was not sure for what.

Elain nodded, whirling around and focusing entirely on the bread she had planned to make.

Lucien did not linger, taking his coffee and leaving as soon as she ended their conversation. Elain listened to his parting footsteps, sighing as the steady rhythm of his heartbeat calmed her nerves.

My mate.

For the first time in years, Elain was comforted by the thought.

#elucienweek2024 #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #elucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #ashes writes sometimes #elain archeron x lucien vanserra #the idea of elain seeing visions of lucien is intriguing I LOVE it

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violetasteracademic · 3 months ago

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Why do you think elain is a better fit for azriel than gwyn?

Hi anon!

I've said this before, and don't mind saying it again and again million times; I ship story and theme, not characters. I'm not particularly quiet or shy about the fact that I absolutely love Gwyn and Lucien, and I've been met kindly and with respect from my mutuals who absolutely despise those characters or at best find them boring and don't care about them. So- I hope this doesn't come off as sarcastic, because I truly don't mean for it to be, but I don't think I even have the words to express how little I sit here comparing Gwyn and Elain as women and why one of them might be more "right" for Azriel than the other. I don't consider Gwyn as she pertains to Azriel, because I don't believe that she does pertain to Azriel. The story and themes I imagine for her are beyond Prythian, and it literally thrills me to think about what might be in store for her.

I am a huge Twilight of the Gods believer, and I think Gwyn and the Valkyrie are going to play a huge role in it. I actually ship Gwyn with Fenrys, in a borderline this is not a crack ship I really seriously believe it kind of way, and Fenrys is my second fave ToG man to Dorian. Whenever my bestie wants to make me cry randomly (in a good way), she'll send me blinks throughout the day. Iykyk.

And I love shipping Gwynrys (just made that up, open to work shopping for better ship names 😂) because they thematically and story wise make sense to me and excite and deeply move me.

They both are twins who had to witness the other half of their soul be murdered in front of them, then were horrifically SA'd afterwards. They both responded to that trauma with absolute silence- Fenrys remaining in his wolf form because he could not bring himself to speak, and Gwyn remaining silent for five months after returning to the library. If they ever met and discovered they share the same tragic past and they both overcame it to be strong, loyal, and beloved friends- omg. I just got chills typing this. They could stand to connect on that deep level that Feysand shares, that Rowaelin shares, that I obviously think Elriel shares. They could see that depth and pain within in each other in a way no one else could understand, then would be the first to volunteer to stand at the front lines in a war against the gods.

I process SJM's couples as being deeply and thematically connected, and I see that with Gwyn and Fenrys and truly believe side characters who haven't gotten their HEA's will do so in the new series. They had complete arcs that became very cherished by the fandom, and though their emotional and character growth in service of the main characters were complete, their story simply didn't feel quite finished.

Anywho. Now I'm turning this into a Let Me Tell You Why I Ship Gwyn and Fenrys seminar 😂 but honestly, I couldn't say that I don't think Gwyn and Az aren't right or good for each other. They could be if these were real people and we were trying to matchmake character traits. I just don't know what they would be together in the story as it stands now.

Whatever their story would be- it would have to be dripping with more sexual tension and angst and longing than Azriel and Elain have. It would have to be more powerful and more interesting than the Cauldron being wrong, going up against fate, and discovering that the Cauldron has in fact been corrupted. Their partnership would have to do more for the women of the world (as both Nesta and Feyre did in their stories with restoring female High Ladies in Prythian and warriors in Illyria) than what Az and Elain stand to do- get to the bottom of the corruption done by the Asteri, which is likely why unhappy and poorly matched mating bonds exist in Prythian, and fix it. Thus freeing not only themselves, but every woman who stood to be a pawn or an object and forced into a lifetime of misery with a man she didn't love lest she risk violence or spend the rest of her life wondering why she didn't love her mate and if she made a mistake.

I don't personally vibe with or agree with the (admittedly few, I stay out of the G/wynriel space not because I hate the idea of the ship but to protect myself from the conversation surrounding women's birthing abilities making them viable love interests) ideas I've heard about Gwyn and Az. That she will save Illyria- absolutely not. That belongs to Emerie. That she will be a sidekick in a new Nesta POV book. That sounds terrible to me. SJM has spoken on how freaky and hot Azriel's spice is going to be, and I'm supposed to just not want the woman's half of the POV because she's a side character in Nesta and Azriel's story? No thank you. No one has presented a story that I would want to read more than Azriel and Elain's, or a story that I believe makes any sense and is worth erasing all the work put into Az and Elain as far as this year 2024 in HoFaS with confirming the problems with the Cauldron.

Look, I'm still pretty new. I joined this online fandom, my first time ever doing so, this spring after HoFaS left me spiralling with thoughts and ideas of the future of SJM's books. Then I started writing fanfic. Then I started analyzing the text to comfort people who had the same experience as me- being someone who couldn't wait for Az and Elain's book and came online to a shocking, Elain hating bloodbath.

I do think that this shipwar is a very strange phenomenon born of an extreme dislike for Elain, whether people want to admit it or not. Elain and Azriel have all the same elements Feysand and Nessian had to set up their romance, but suddenly narratives that have never happened in the history of SJM have been created to explain it away. The "just lust" narrative literally does not exist in the SJM codex. It's not a thing. But it's a thing now for people who don't like Azriel and Elain together to try to erase Elain's existence and convince the world how it is completely impossible for her book to be next or for her to be with Azriel simply because they don't want those things to be true.

I do not care about whether or not ships are even canon. I could go on and on about all my favorite non canon ships, and times I thought the canon story was dead ass wrong 😂 It just so happens that when it comes to Az and Elain, I ride SO HARD for the canon text. People who ship G/wynriel will likely continue to ship them, and that is what fandom is for. I don't mind that they exist. I do wish everyone, on all sides, was kinder.

To me, the only love triangle exists between Azriel, Elain, and Lucien, which is why most of my theory or analysis posts center around them. I think Gwyn was an incredibly successful (maybe too successful) red herring. My opinion is that the bonus chapter was meant to re-touch on and shine light to her powers, and also create little question mark so it wasn't too obvious Elain and Azriel are endgame when she still hasn't formally rejected her mate since she hasn't had her book yet. Instead, it lit a wildfire for a group of people who were already primed and ready to erase Elain and replace her.

Maybe Gwyn and Azriel as characters removed from this story and put in a different one would be great together. In fact, I'm certain they would. They are great characters and I'm sure they could be written beautifully. I prefer what Az and Elain have got going on, but that's personal preference. I think Gwyn already had a complete arc, and I loved it, and now I'm crawling out of my skin with excitement for Elain's story.

I hope that sort of answers your question. I'm just not really interested in pitting Gwyn and Elain against each other for Azriel's attention, and I don't believe the books actually created or intended that.

Pleaaaase let me know if there are any fellow multiverse shippers out there 🙏 cause we are thinking too small focusing only on ACOTAR!

#elriel #pro elriel #elain and azriel #making gwynrys happen

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acourtofthought · 11 months ago

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Lucien when it comes to Elain:

"Don't just leave her on the damned floor!"

Lucien took off his jacket, kneeling before Elain.

Water poured forth, Lucien hoisting Elain in his arms and out of the way.

"Where is he keeping her?" Tell me anyway. List all of them." "I I need to find her."

Given that his own status as a mated male made him uninterested in any sort of female company these days.

"I'm a mated male now."

"I'm getting my mate back."

"Tell me about her - about Elain."

"Is....is there anything I can get for you?"

"Too thin. She must not be eating at all."

Looking at her now....She was pale, yes. The vacancy still glazing her features. But she couldn't breath as she faced him fully. She was the most beautiful female he'd ever seen.

Her eyes were the brown of a fawn's coat.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"She needs fresh air."

"Take her to the sea. Take her to some garden. But get her out of this house for an hour or two."

"It wasn't just about what he thought - it was the ... feeling. I sensed no ill will, no conniving. Only concern for her. And ... sorrow. Longing."

"Let me do something. About Elain. I heard - from my room. Everything that happened just now. It wouldn't hurt to have a healer look her over. Externally and internally."

"I think she went through something terrible."

"Please tell me," Lucien said when I crossed the threshold into the foyer, "What the healer says. And if - if you need me for anything."

Lucien inclined his head in a bow, the movement hiding the gleam in his eye—the longing and sadness.

Lucien. It was Lucien. Lucien, haggard and bloody, panting for breath. As if he'd run from the shore. His gaze settled on Elain, and he sagged a little. "Are you hurt?" he asked, coming toward us. Spying the blood speckling Elain's hand.

"I heard - what happened. I'm sorry for your loss. All of you. "He was a good man, he loved you all very much."

Elain fell into step beside me, peering at Lucien. He noticed it. "I heard you made the killing blow," he said.

To where Lucien now stood in the sitting room, close to Elain's side.

"How is she?"

"Does she still mourn him?

Lucien had encountered him, I realized. Somehow, in living with Jurian and Vassa at the manor, he'd run into Elain's former bethrothed. And managed to leave the human lord breathing.

"The bigger box is for you. The smaller one is for her."

"The pain etching deep into Lucien's face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing."

Lucien as Lucien:

“She refused, and … Lucien told her to go back to the shit-hole she’d crawled out of. She took his eye as punishment.

I wondered—wondered if being emissary also meant being spymaster.

he’d already made many friends across the courts and had always been good at talking to people,

I found that he was running—fast. Faster than anything should be able to move.

“I thought you would have learned your lesson, Lucien. Though this time your silence will damn you as much as your tongue.” Lucien kept his eyes shut. Ready—he was ready for Rhysand to wipe out everything he was, to turn his mind, his self, into dust.

Then, shattering the silence like a shooting star, a voice—Lucien’s—bellowed across the chamber. “TO YOUR LEFT!”

Didn’t you realize I would help you after that? Oath or no oath?”

“Please,” Lucien said, bowing his head gracefully. “The effort to rebuild is our burden to share. It would be our honor.”

Lucien had gifted both to me—the dagger during the months before Amarantha, the belt in the weeks after her downfall, when I’d carried the dagger, along with many others, everywhere I went. You might as well look good if you’re going to arm yourself to the teeth, he’d said.

Lucien cleared his throat. “She meant no harm, Tam.” “I know she meant no harm,” he snapped. Lucien held his gaze. “Worse things have happened, worse things can happen. Just relax.”

Lucien had gone on, his tone pleading, Tamlin. Tam. Just let her train, let her master this—if the other High Lords do come for her, let her stand a chance …

a pattern of thinking and feeling that was old, and clever.

“I did it for you, too, you know.” Cold, hard words. “I went with him to get you back.”. “That day you—went away,” he said, struggling to avoid that other word—left. “I beat Tamlin back to the manor—received the message when we were out on the border and raced here. But the only trace of you was that ring, melted between the stones of the parlor. I got rid of it a moment before Tam arrived home to see it.”

Believe me, I’ve asked.” “For me—you asked them for me.” “Yes. I went last winter to inquire about breaking your bargain with Rhys.” “Why didn’t you tell me?” “I—we didn’t want to give you false hope.

I begged him for more time, but you’d already been gone for months.

My blood chilled. “You didn’t stop him.” “I tried. I begged him for mercy. He didn’t listen. He couldn’t listen.”

Lucien loosed a heavy sigh and slid an arm around my waist, the other threading through my hair to cradle my head. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I'm sorry.". He held me, stroking soothing lines down my back.

Leave him. I should and could leave him. But to a fate perhaps worse than death. His russet eye gleamed. "Go."

But Lucien was there. / Lucien's sword refracted the light of the sun leaking through the canopy. And then met flesh and bone.

"I could train for as long as I liked, since no one believed I’d be dumb enough to kill my way up the long list of heirs. And when I grew bored with studying and fighting … I learned what I could of the land from its people. Learned about the people, too.”

He waded into the stream, boots off and pants rolled to his knees, and caught one with his bare hands.

Lucien picked them up by their tails as if he'd done it a thousand times. "I'll clean them while you start a fire."

"I had the element of surprise on my side." "No," Lucien said quietly. "That was all you".

Of all the sounds that Lucien so carefully sorted through while he kept watch.

I dreamed that he removed his cloak and added it over my blanket. / I'd been wearing my cloak but he'd indeed given me his.

I think Lucien shouted my name.

Like Rhys, he usually opted for words to win his battles,

He knew how to handle a weapon. How to kill, if need be.

Lucien, to his credit, didn’t back away a step. From Rhys, or me, or the Illyrians. The Clever Fox Stares Down Winged Death.

I counted the heartbeats, debating how much I’d interfere if he said something truly stupid, when he at last murmured, “There is a longer story to be told, it seems.” Smart answer.

He added to Lucien, who did not balk from those writhing shadows,

His talent was wasted in the Spring Court. There was a reason he had that fox mask, you know.”

He’d always had a casual grace about him, but here, tonight, with his hair tied back and jacket buttoned to his neck, he truly looked the part of a High Lord’s son. Handsome, powerful, a bit rakish—but well-mannered and elegant.

Lucien considered. “Can I offer my unsolicited advice?”

Lucien is loyal—fiercely so.

Especially since Lucien had left before breakfast for a library across the city to look up anything in regard to fixing the wall, a task I'd been more than willing to hand over. I might have felt guilty for never giving him a proper tour of Velaris, but.... he seemed eager.

Lucien had offered to make himself useful while we were gone by reading through some of the texts now piled on the tables throughout the sitting room.

"Let me guess: they said yes, but picking the location is now going to be the headache." Mor frowned, "Any suggestions?" Lucien tied back his hair with a strip of brown leather. "Do you have a map?"

“You will be going into the human territory,” Rhys warned. “I can’t spare a force to guard you—” “I don’t need one. I travel faster on my own.”

“It will be—very dangerous.” A half smile curved Lucien’s mouth. “Good. It’d be boring otherwise.”

"It was time," Lucien said quietly, giving me a squeeze. "For me to do something."

Cassian had given him free rein yesterday afternoon to loot his personal cache of weapons, though my friend had been economical about which ones he’d selected. The blade, plus a short sword, plus an assortment of daggers. A quiver of arrows and an unstrung bow were tied to his pack.

Rhys extended a hand to Lucien. Lucien studied it—then my mate’s face. I could nearly see all the hateful words they’d spoken. Dangling between them, between that outstretched hand and Lucien’s own. But Lucien took Rhys’s hand. That silent offer of not only transportation.

Seems like Lucien can still play the fox.

Lucien had remained behind to help with any of the human wounded still needing Fae healing, but had promised to come here when he finished.

Lucien had come here out of pity. Mercy.

The male had grown up alongside Eris. Had dealt with Eris’s and Beron’s cruelty. Had his lover slaughtered by his own father. But Lucien had learned to keep his cool.

The male was somehow able to move between his three roles - an emissary for the Night Court, ally to Jurian and Vassa, and liaison to Tamlin - and still dress immaculately.

"Set up the handsome one as High Lord of Autumn"

Perhaps you'll get a handsome fae lord as your mate, too "

"Lucien's cruel beauty"

Sculpted chest

Hard muscles of his shoulders

Broad hands

#elucien #pro elucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #pro lucien vanserra

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thinkinthoughtsalot · 4 months ago

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Why exactly is it bad to romanticize the idea of Lucien helping Vassa break her curse? We saw him set Koschei as his target in ACOSF. Going after a literal death god to free the woman you care about from a curse seems like a hella good romantic plotline to me.

I know SJM's female leads tend to be the type to save themselves and not need to rely on a man, but they still need the help of their love interest along the way. And it's always romantic af.

If it's about the line "a bird of flame … and a lord of fire. I wondered if they’d found each other yet," not being romantically coded, I would have to disagree. Sarah could have easily written "I wondered if he'd found her yet." Vassa's not looking for Lucien after all. Him simply finding her wouldn't be inherently romantic. But matched fire imagery and finding each other? It definitely reads as romantic foreshadowing to me, especially when we later see that Lucien is practically giddy talking about Vassa.

#vassien #elriel

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writtenonreceipts · 4 months ago

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Elucien Week Masterlist // AO3 Link // Part 2

Day Four: High Society @elucienweekofficial

Summary: A Regency AU. When her family faces the backlash of questionable business choices, Elain Archeron finds herself betrothed to Lucien Vanserra, seventh son of the duke. A past of brief interactions taught Elain that there was no good to come from the man, but she soon learns there is more to the young lord than she could have ever known. Two Parts.

a/n: I shared a small section of this story last year during Elucien week as well, so if it looks familiar, that is why! Planning on two parts. And guess what??? Part two is mostly written (and by mostly i mean 3k words and it'll probs be 6-8k).

warnings: none for this part! ~8.3k words

.*.*.*.*.

When Our Fingers Touch, I Find My Way Back Home

When she thought of love, Elain did not picture her parents. They were cold, calculating, vindictive individuals who certainly deserved each other. They were so far from typical conventions of affection that tolerance was the word she associated them with.

Her parents had married when mother was fresh into her first season, seventeen and well connected. Truly, Margot St. Moore had been the diamond in her season and been used to capture the attention of Lord Elias Archeron. Elias of course was only interested in a wife who would continue to garner gossip and valuable information that he could use to further his political agenda.

When she thought of love, Elain did not picture the heroine of the latest book she was reading. It was dull, long winded, and focused only on the male perspective. She supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised by that fact considering it was Aunt Ripleigh who’d gifted it to her, but she’d had high hopes for it in any case.

And it wasn’t that Aunt Ripleigh wasn’t a capable woman herself. No. Aunt Ripleigh simply waited to be acted upon. She hardly ever sought her own will, her own wants, her own desires. It drove Elain insane especially when she’d been forced to spend an entire winter with the woman. She’d gotten very good at baking however, so that was alright she supposed.

Rather, when she thought of love, Elain looked to her sister. Which was hilarious when one thought about it because Nesta did not believe in love. At least she hadn’t. Until war hero and decorated officer Cassian Madura returned to the city and promptly swept Nesta off her feet.

The two were so different that Elain wondered how it was possible they’d come together. They’d certainly played many rounds of cat and mouse during their courtship. At one point Elain believed that Nesta had dismissed the man for good. She didn’t know the entire story behind their coupling, but Elain did know her sister and Nesta had never truly been happy until Cassian had come around.

The strange, free-falling nature of love had long fascinated Elain. She’d had her own fantasies and desires for what love would look like for her that she’d become quite enamored with the idea. Of course, she knew that love was hard to come by. Even if she was a woman and the second daughter, she’d understood she might need to make some sacrifices in her little world. But she’d long held on to the notion that she would be loved.

Until now.

“I’m sorry father,” she said, folding her napkin across her lap. She cleared her throat and leaned forward over the table. “I don’t think I heard what you said.”

Breakfast had never been an enjoyable affair. It was insufferable in the fact that they were all forced together at Mother’s insistence. Every meal was meant to be spent together, hilarious considering none of them liked the other. But Elain new better than to comment on that.

“Oh, Elain,” Mother sighed heavily, taking a long sip of her tea. “You know perfectly well what he said.”

Elain ignored her mother and stared at her father. He was doing a rather remarkable job at examining the single missive he’d received with breakfast. A missive that was minuscule, Elain knew.

The only other person in the room, aside from the staff, was Feyre who was twirling her fork in her fingers in a very undignified manner. Younger by a nearly two years, Feyre still had time before marriage became a priority. Even then, Margot and Elias Archeron were rather bored with being parents at this point that Feyre may never be forced to find a husband.

“You’re betrothed,” Father said flatly. “To one of the Vanserra boys. I spoke with his grace, Lord Vanserra just yesterday.”

Father finally tossed the missive to the side before cutting into the sausage on his plate.

“Which Vanserra boy was it?” Elain asked as calmly as she could. But her fingers were shaking, her whole body in fact. And there was a distinct rage building in her blood that she was certain would come pouring out at any given moment.

She had to pull herself together. Ladies did not dissolve into rage at a minor inconvenience. Ladies were calm, collected, and careful.

Mother sighed again and poured herself more tea. “Don’t be so difficult, Elain. You’ve been preparing for this your entire life. After your sister married that, that brute, you had to expect that you would bring our family some honor. Honestly.”

Elain met Feyre’s gaze. Her little sister merely shrugged. Wonderful.

“And I am happy to do so, mother,” Elain said, her smile felt tight and sharp. “I only wish to know who I’ll be spending the rest of my life with.”

She simply couldn’t believe that it would be a Vanserra she would marry. Oh, they were a well-respected family. They were rich, educated, dripping with all the prestige of the world. But there were rumors too. Rumors of cruelty and spite. Just last year two of the seven sons had been killed in a horrific robbery while abroad. Elain had heard from three different ladies that Beron, the family patriarch, had his own sons killed for no reason other than the boys were useless in business. There were also the rumors of cruelty. Lady Dierdre didn’t leave the Vanserra estate often for a reason.

Elain sipped her tea, trying to calm down.

She’d grown up with the Vanserra’s though. Had endured those boys like one endured an annoying fly that would not leave you alone. And she had a sickening feeling which brother her father assigned her to.

“Lucius, Leonardo, Liam.” Father waved a hand. “The one with the red hair.”

They all had red hair.

“Lucien,” Elain murmured. Really, there was no other option. The eldest was well into his thirties the next two married and the other still abroad. Dread weighed heavy in her stomach.

Father grunted and continued eating his sausage.

“Unfortunately,” Mother said, another sigh. “I would have preferred Eris. I tried arranging him and Nesta before she sullied herself—” a click of the tongue from Feyre “—and tried again for you. Unfortunately, he has a match now.”

Mother dropped sugar into her tea. “And even if that other one is the youngest and won’t inherit a title, you will still be a Vanserra.”

“Is Father’s business truly failing so much?” Feyre, finally breaking her silence, picked up a slice of strawberry with her bare fingers. “So much that you think a marriage alliance will fix it?”

“Hold your tongue, girl,” Father barked. “We always knew Elain would marry and maintain the household. When all our holdings go to her husband it will merely procure a legitimate union.”

Elain and Feyre exchanged another look.

“I will not tolerate your attitudes anymore,” Mother said. “The both of you. Petulant children. I raised you better than this, Elain. You are a lady. You will do as you’re told. And Feyre—you will sit properly at the table or go sit in the mires.”

Feyre slowly straightened her back.

Elain gave her mother a nod. “Of course, Mother. I forgot my place.”

And then she promptly kept her lips sealed for the rest of the meal.

…

It was when Elain was twelve that she met Lucien Vanserra for the first time.

She wasn’t supposed to be outside in the gardens, but she simply couldn’t resist. It was still early enough in spring that the new blooms were still budding, and leaves were unfurling that it all had an heir of magic to it. In just a few weeks this garden would be transformed from bare branches to insurmountable beauty. And she wanted to see every moment of that transition.

Even if it was still a bit cold. And yes, the clouds overhead were gray and fierce and looked ready to pounce. But it was no longer winter. She needn’t be contained anymore.

So, Elain wandered the gardens. She could identify most of the plants by their leaves alone. After kindly bullying the head gardener to teach her about his stewardship, Elain had come to more fully appreciate this small piece of the world.

As she rounded a corner of her favorite part of the garden, she saw a flash of red and a creature dashed out of the shrubbery. It paused in the middle of the path, staring at her. A fox. Sleek and lean with large russet eyes.

“Oh, aren’t you a surprise,” Elain said, because what else was there to say? “Having a look around?”

Its tail twitched and head listed to one side. And then a great shout echoed across the garden and the fox flitted off again.

Elain couldn’t help her cry of dismay when a boy, just a few years older than her, came charging through the garden. He was impeccably dressed for a boy his age with crisp linen and shiny boots. His fiery red hair hung over his face as he ran towards Elain.

“Where is it?” he asked with obvious desperation.

“I—what?” Elain stared at him, this strange boy with a pal-mal racquet in one hand and determination in his eyes.

“The fox! The blasted thing stole through the game and ruined my shot!”

Elain blinked. “You were startled by a fox?”

The boy scowled. “I didn’t say I was scared.”

“Then how did it ruin your shot?” she insisted.

“It ran out in front of me,” he replied.

“And you got distracted?”

“No!” The boy did not appreciate her at this moment, she could see that well enough.

“Then what’s the problem?” she asked.

“It’s a menace,” the boy said. He looked at her in earnest now. Elain could see how bright his eyes were, rich brown like the fox’s. His skin was a warm, rich color, darker than most in the -ton. “I want to catch it.”

Elain’s eyes widened. “What on earth for? You wouldn’t hurt it would you?”

The boy started. “Well, I suppose I don’t know. I didn’t think that far.”

“You’re very strange,” Elain told him.

“Well so are you,” he said.

It was Elain’s turn to scowl. How dare he! He didn’t know her from Adam.

“I am a respectable young lady and I would ask that you treat me as such,” she said, and then lifted her chin in the air for good measure.

“You’re covered in dirt,” the boy said. “Ladies don’t roll around in the dirt.”

Elain glanced down. It appeared he was right. She’d knelt beside the roses pulling weeds earlier. And then there was a mess of fallen branches in the hydrangeas. Not to mention lavender.

“A lady is allowed her hobbies, and her discretion,” she said, perfectly mimicking her tutors.

The boy cocked his head. “I don’t know. Still seems strange to me, you were talking to yourself too. Or is that another one of your discretions you're allowed?”

Was he mocking her? Elain couldn’t help her scowl, even with her mother’s inner monologue raging in her head.

“At least I’m not running about like a savage waving a stick,” she said.

“It’s fun, you should try it,” he replied, “but ladies aren’t meant to be savages.”

“No,” she said, “they’re not.”

And then, for whatever reason, he grinned at her. Something wild and bright and utterly different than what Elain ever saw on anyone. He then swept into a low bow.

“Lucien Vanserra,” he said, “seventh son to the duke.”

The Duke? Elain stared at him. Her father was a lord who managed funds and trades. This boy, Lucien, so clearly outranked her in social standing that Elain could hardly even think. Mother was going to be furious for being so forward and impolite to him.

“And you, my lady,” Lucien asked, his impish grin still in place. “Might I know of your name?”

If she didn’t tell him her name then he couldn’t tattle on her for being so uncivilized.

Elain clamped her mouth shut and shook her head. Not only would mother scold her, but she could also revoke Elain’s privileges relating to the garden, or baking. If either of those things happened, Elain had no idea what she would do. She would be forced to read. Or paint. Or cross-stitch.

“Elain!”

She started, terrified that her mother had found her out in the garden, dirty, talking to the duke's son of all things. Hand clutched to her chest, she spun around, searching for who was calling for her.

Walking quickly down the path towards her was Nesta. Barely a year older than her, Nesta was already so lovely. Her dress was perfectly pressed and arranged, and her body, perfect for dancing, moved with perfect elegance.

“Elain, what are you doing?” Nesta demanded as she drew closer.

While Nesta wouldn’t tell their mother about this little venture, she would try and mother hen Elain the rest of the day. Elain glanced at Lucien. As if he could help.

All he did was offer another bow. “Lady Elain.”

And then he was scampering off the way he came.

“Elain!” Nesta finally stepped up beside her and took her arm. “Who was that? What’s going on?”

“It was, I was,” she was at a loss for words. In all her life, Elain always had the words for every situation. “There was a fox.”

Nesta did not like that answer. She tugged at Elain’s arm, pulling her back to the manor.

“Come on, you have to change before mother sees you.”

There was no other choice than to follow.

…

The winter months were long and dreary. Compared to the bright vibrant warmth of spring and summer, winter was the bane of Elain’s existence. It was barely even Winter Solstice and Elain was ready to return to the comforts of the other seasons.

“Get that scowl off your face,” Mother snapped.

Elain blinked and looked in the mirror of her vanity. Her maid, Nuala, was carefully pinning her curls into an elegant twist while her mother paced the room behind. She wasn’t scowling, was she? She was merely staring off into nothing.

“You’re going to be the center of attention tonight at the ball and we cannot have your future husband see that on your face.” Mother picked invisible lint from her dress. “You are a lady who everyone will be looking to, tonight.”

Elain straightened her shoulders and relaxed her jaw. “Of course, Mother. I’m sorry. I just can’t help but imagine how tonight will go. With my betrothal to Lord Lucien there will be a number of expectations.”

“Expectations that you’ve been training for since you could walk,” Mother replied crisply. She came up behind Elain, nearly pushing Nuala out of the way. The lady's maid said nothing, knowing better than to try and address the woman. “It is nothing you cannot handle.”

The compliment was a rare gem that Elain would savor for just a moment. She told herself to relax, to breathe evenly. It would be a successful night of celebration and merriment. Even with the official engagement to Lord Lucien, there were still holiday celebrations. The dancing would be wonderful, the food divine, and the decorations. Elain had helped the head housekeeper in all the planning. Mother only accepted the notion when Elain reminded her it was how she would best prepare for her own house in just a few months’ time.

It would be a remarkable night, and her engagement to Lord Lucien would not sully it. She loved parties and gatherings and adored the excitement that came with all the various arrangements.

“All finished,” Nuala said. She pined one more curl into place. It was lovely with the twisting curls and gentle braids she’d created. She’d even pinned a small string of pearls to act like a crown.

“Thank-you Nuala.” Elain smiled at her maid. She’d long been a good confidant and wonderful friend despite their differences in station. “You’re dismissed, I’ll ring for you later tonight.”

Nuala curtsied before hurrying from the room. Just as she was leaving, another of the maids approached, rapping on the door.

“Excuse me, my ladies,” the maid said, curtsying just as Nuala had. “Lady Arch—er Madura has arrived.”

Elain perked immediately. “Do send her up Greer.”

“No,” Mother cut in. “We are already late. We’ll see her downstairs.”

They were ahead of schedule, but Elain knew better than to correct her mother. But she desperately wanted to speak with Nesta. The two got along as well as sisters could, but they still had their differences. And while Elain had her own thoughts and opinions about Nesta’s choice in life (not that she begrudged her sister’s choice in husband nor how she took hold of her life) there were simply things that she didn’t understand.

Things that she couldn’t talk to her mother about. And Feyre, well, Feyre was ice and snow. Hard to navigate, hard to approach. Sometimes, Elain would say that Feyre and Nesta were the most similar of the sisters, but she didn’t want to get her head eaten off.

“Now,” Mother said, drawing Elain from her thoughts. “Tonight is all about your betrothal to Lord Lucien. You must dance with him and you must speak with him. Civilly. None of this running around to your every whim and fancy. I will not have you become a gossip.”

“I have to attend to guests,” Elain insisted. She did not want to spend an entire night stuck to Lord Vanserra’s side. It was laughable. Ludicrous to expect her to do so. “I am in part hosting this event, Mother.”

“The only one hosting this night, is me. I am the lady of this household,” Mother said. Her voice was stoney and viciously cold. Elain hardly restrained her wince. “You cannot flirt with every man that walks through that door. Have some restraint, Elain.”

Elain dropped her gaze, demurely. “Yes, ma’am.”

There was no point in arguing with her. Not now. Soon, she would be gone from the manor. Gone from the constant nagging and finagling. Soon, she would have her own house to tend. Lord Vanserra would allow her that small mercy, wouldn’t he?

“You’re frowning again.” Mother rapped her on the shoulder and sighed. “And your hair. Why must you have so many curls? It really would be better if it lay flat.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

And then Elain was left to follow her mother down to the main hall where the ball would occur.

Everything had been transformed to reflect a taste of winter. Blue and white ribbons combined with simple floral arrangements. The chandeliers had all been shined to perfection and candelabras burned through the hall. The carpets had been washed, banisters polished, and every surface that was supposed to gleam did so as if set upon by the sun.

Elain allowed herself a moment of admiration for the work the staff had done. But only a moment. Mother was already halfway across the hall and trailing behind like a little duckling would not make the night any easier.

Immediately, there were names to be learned, curtsies to be given, and greetings to be issued. Elain had been trained for this. Mother had taught her everything about being a good hostess and deferring to the man of the house. Mother had also taught her how to carefully gather information from everyone that passed through their doors.

And while Elain didn’t mind a bit of gossip, she didn’t necessarily enjoy the attention this sprung on her. If she were being honest, she wished she could have a single moment for herself. Just one where she could take everything in about the decorations of the house, the music, the food. Where she could simply breathe and not worry about whether she’d done well enough or worry about how others saw the way she ran the house.

She just wanted a moment.

“Elain,” Mother hissed beside her when they weren’t inundated with another round of guests.

She snapped to attention, realizing she was giving too much attention to a snag in Lady Charlotte’s gown. The poor dear was failing miserably at hiding her pregnancy.

Elain didn’t need to ask her mother what happened because she already knew. It only took a glance.

Entering their families' great hall were the Duke and Duchess. They were resplendent in their dress, the duke formal in a black coat and rich cream shirt, trousers, and cravat. His black hair was neatly styled and those dark brown eyes shrewdly examined everything in the hall. His wife, though, was by far the most beautiful woman Elain had seen. Her red hair was twisted into a fashionable chiffon and laden with sparkling gems that matched the green of her gown. With a willowy frame and bright, amber eyes, the Duchess was remarkable.

Following right behind them were two men that were impossible to mistake. Eris and Lucien Vanserra. They were both proud and arrogant as they stood in the doorway. So similar yet so different. Where Eris had paler skin, Lucien was darker, where Eris was sharp and cut cold as his father, Lucien retained the subtle softness of his mother.

Elain couldn’t help but stare. Truly, she tried to avert her gaze. To focus on Lady Viviane who looked resplendent in a gown of pale blue. To congratulate her on her pregnancy that she had no qualms of hiding unlike most ladies of the -ton.

But once her eyes snagged on Lucien, she could not look away. And when he caught her staring, Elain knew she was lost.

A smirk tugged on his lips and his brow rose in challenge. Elain lifted her chin and looked away. There was only so long she could get away with it. Only so long until her mother forced the hired string quartet to play something. Only so long until she was thrust into the arms of her betrothed. Like an animal.

…

She was seventeen when she realized that her life would never be her own.

She’d tried to ask her mother for permission to spend time in the kitchens with the cook so she could learn how to braid bread and roll out pie dough. At first, Elain foolishly thought her mother would give her permission. Until Mother tossed her head back and laughed.

“You are a lady, Elain. And you will be married the second you turn eighteen. There is no reason for you to sully yourself with that sort of thing.”

Elain was quickly learning that sully was mother’s new favorite word. Especially after Nesta had been seen dancing with Cassian Madura at the Berdara Ball just two nights ago. Mother had just never used it in reference to her before. Elain was always lovely and sweet and perfect.

And even if Elain didn’t like being called those things, didn’t like the way they made her feel so enclosed and trapped—she’d never thought her mother would be so blatant in her cold words and cruel actions.

Perhaps that was why Elain found herself wandering the large fields of the property that day. It was early spring and the rains had stopped for a small respite. She’d been desperate to get out of the house. To feel the fresh air and taste the sweet breeze that came with the fresh blooms of spring. Even if it was still chilly and the clouds overhead looked ready to burst at any moment.

Elain wasted no time as she practically ran across the sprawling lawn. It wasn’t long until she was far enough away from the manor that she could breathe a bit easier, that even her mother’s nagging voice disappeared.

She only came to a stop as she reached the small stream that served as a border between Archeron and Vanserra land. How they lived so close to the duke Elain had never learned and she was certain that the truth would not be comforting, so she put it out of her mind as best she could.

She wore one of her simpler dresses today which made it easier to walk and explore in. Not to mention it was a bit older too so if it got a little dirty, no one would care. Well, Nuala might give her a look, and Elain was fairly certain the maid was giving her mother reports on her actions.

That was something she could worry about later, Elain decided.

She carefully crept closer to the stream bed, the grass slick with the earlier rain. Elain had always had good luck finding different colored rocks. She loved the varying colors that could range from burgundy to pale blue. Even the dull grays were fascinating especially if they had a distinct stripe or marking that—

Her foot slipped and before Elain could even attempt to right herself, she went spiraling face first into the river.

There was no way to catch herself. She knew it the second she felt the shift of her stance. Elain let out a shriek as she fell. The cold watch sloshed around her and immediately seeped into her shoes, her dress. Gasping, Elain floundered in the water until she sat up. Soaked. Utterly soaked. And freezing.

The chill stole the air from her lungs and Elain could do nothing other than stare through the loose tendrils of her hair that had come free from her chignon.

“Lady Elain!”

She heard the voice but couldn’t focus on anything other than how cold she was. Her lungs wouldn’t cooperate either. All she could do was sit in that water and let it wash around her. It hadn’t been terribly deep, perhaps only halfway up her calves, but now it felt as though she’d been dragged hundreds of meters below the surface.

There was a loud splash from somewhere beside her and before Elain could register it, strong hands were dipping beneath her shoulders and legs and she was hauled against a broad, warm chest.

The arms that held her were firm and unyielding. Elain could do little more than cling to his front and bury her face against his shoulder as the shivers took control. She could make out a strong masculine scent of sunlight and pine, it was oddly comforting in a strange, subtle way.

When she was set down on solid ground, Elain’s knees buckled and she held on tighter to the arms around her.

“Easy,” a deep voice murmured in her ear. “Easy.”

Elain shuddered and squeezed her eyes shut. Oh she knew that voice. She knew exactly who it was that held her.

“Are you alright?” Lucien Vanserra’s low voice hummed in her ear. She wanted to push him away, to stand on her own, to—

Her knees buckled again and like some swooning heroine in a horrible broadsheet story—she clung tighter to the youngest Vanserra. Elain was still too shocked and chilled to be embarrassed by this miserable state. It didn’t help that Lucien exuded so much warmth.

“It seems I slipped,” she finally whispered. She kept her eyes closed, willing her skin to stop flushing. Maybe if she stayed still long enough, she’d just sink into the earth and vanish.

She felt the soft brush of his hand against her cheek, brushing a damp curl away.

“Indeed,” Lucien murmured. His hand moved to run down her arm, rubbing warmth back into her. “I saw you tumble. Are you sure you’re alright?”

Elain steeled herself before blinking her eyes open. His own eyes were trained on her—russet brown with golden undertones, the left eye laced with pale scars along tender skin. She took a slow breath. Ever since their brief meeting when they were children, Elain had only seen him from a distance. Nesta had whispered rumors that Beron Vanserra was not a good man and they shouldn’t engage with him or his family. Duke or no.

But here and now, amid the soggy weather and cool breeze that mixed with her wet skirts--Elain found herself unable to pull away from him.

“I’m fine,” she whispered even as a shiver wracked her body.

Lucien chuckled darkly. “Forgive me, but you look like a drowned rat, my lady.”

The haze of surprise dissipated and Elain found herself scowling. “Well then, I shall be on my way. I hate to be such an eyesore.”

She pulled away from that careful grasp he still held her in and nearly went slipping all over again. Lucien caught before Elain fell. His strong hands gripped her arms and his own sturdy build kept her grounded.

“Don’t go off in a huff,” he said.

Elain swatted his arms. She was able to keep her balance this time as she managed to put some distance between them.

“I should have remembered how rude you are,” she snapped amid her shivers.

Gathering her skirts in her hands, Elain stalked off in the direction of her family home. Lucien kept pace easily and before she could swat him again, he’d shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

Warmth immediately enveloped her and Elain had to clamp her mouth shut to hold back the satisfied sigh that wanted to escape.

“We wouldn’t want you catching a cold,” Lucien said when she finally looked at him.

She didn’t know how else to respond to that other than to continue walking while he remained dutifully by her side.

…

The ball was off to a remarkable beginning. Even if her mother had dragged her away from most of the inner workings of the planning--Elain noted with satisfaction that everything was still delightful.

The lights were perfect, the food continuous, and the small quartet in the corner extremely talented. All from her careful deliberations.

Elain allowed her pride to be stroked for just a moment before it was dashed away by a familiar form approaching her side. She couldn’t help the sharp inhale nor the way she shifted just so subtly toward him.

“Well, Lady Elain,” Lucien said, “we meet again.”

In the years since that regrettable day where she’d tumbled into the stream—Elain had done her best to avoid the youngest Vanserra. At first it was embarrassment. And then it turned to something else—something Elain didn’t know how to identify, only that when she simply thought about the young lord, her cheeks would heat and her heart thudded harder. Embarrassment. Anger. Both seemed like decent explanations so in the end she focused on the latter.

Anger mostly at him for being so arrogant. And teasing.

Ever since that day, Elain hadn’t known what to think or how to act toward him. Certainly he had acted the gentleman and delivered her back home safely. But he’d never called on her after, never passed a kind note, nor paid her any heed at dances or shared meals when they arose.

She, apparently, was utterly uninteresting.

“Indeed,” she said crisply. She clutched her glass of punch tightly between her fingers, fully expecting the delicate glass to shatter at any moment.

“And fully set to ignore me too?”

Elain glared at him, despite her keen desire not to even acknowledge him. She lifted her chin, though it did little in making up the difference in their heights. Lucien practically towered over her with a lean, but firm build. He’d certainly filled out in the years since he’d saved her from the stream. Heat flushed her skin and she looked away.

“No need to get shy on me now,” Lucien remarked, she caught the curve of a smile on his stupidly full lips. “We are betrothed after all.”

“How could I forget?” She set her drink down on the table she stood beside. She turned her full attention to him and gave him the full effect of her scowl. “It’s only been drilled into me ever since the announcement.”

“No need to be so upset.” He only grinned at her expression. “That hardly seems a way to enter a marriage. It should be far more fun than that.”

She couldn’t do this. Elain turned away, already looking for the best escape. If only Feyre was here. But Mother didn’t allow her to come to parties even if she were of age. Nesta and Cassian were all the way on the other side of the ballroom speaking with the young Miss Gwyneth Berdara and Miss Emerie Costa. It would be painfully obvious if she stalked straight across the hall for them leaving her betrothed standing there.

Well she could just leave the event all together. Her mother hadn’t said anything about how long she would need to stay after seeing her intended. She’d fulfilled her duty so she could now leave.

She saw her escape when the young general Jurian Renault and his wife Vassa Deveraux approached. Elain was aware that her betrothed and the general had met at school and nearly been expelled together after a rebellion of sorts involving frogs, explosions, and crotchety old men. She didn’t know much beyond that, but this would certainly be the perfect distraction.

As soon as Jurian called for Lucien, Elain swept away toward one of the back stairways that was hardly used by anyone—servants included.

She'd hardly made it out of the great hall before Lucien caught up to her. He didn't try to touch her, merely keeping just one step behind her.

“Lady Elain.” Lucien cut her off before she made it even a step up the stairs. “Is this how you plan to spend our marriage? Running from it?”

“Yes,” she said simply. She tried to dodge around him but he was too quick for her. Lucien stood firmly in front of her that even one stiff shove didn’t get him out of her way. Bastard. “If you would get out of my way.”

“No, I don’t think I will,” he replied. He grinned, his teeth flashing, and Elain scowled as she tried to push him again. Built like a wall, the man didn’t budge. “You and I have things to discuss.”

There was an earnestness in his words even if his face appeared cut from stone. Everything she’d heard about his father, his brothers, came rushing to the front of her mind and she had a hard time reconciling that cruelty.

“I am not a puppet for you to dress up and play with,” she told him. He let her pass him this time and she hurried up the stairs that would take her to her rooms. “Nor am I a wife you can brush aside without a second thought.”

“I never said you were,” Lucien said. His ridiculously long legs kept him in pace with her.

“Please,” Elain scoffed. She glared at him, mostly upset that she couldn’t storm away properly. It was a lady’s prerogative to have equal storming rights. “You’re getting a perfect little wife for your perfect little life. I know the kind of man you are, Lord.”

He waited until they rounded the third floor before grabbing her arm and swinging her around to face him. Elain couldn’t help the little peep of surprise that escaped her when suddenly she was staring at his chest. Steeling herself, Elain lifted her gaze and met his eyes. Beautiful and russet brown, his left eye scarred through the corner. It was, unfortunately, impossible to look away from him. Perhaps it was his broad features, the deep tones of his skin. Or even that subtle strength coiling within him.

There was something about Lucien Vanserra that called to her. She didn’t know how to describe it, and that terrified her. But she couldn’t help it. She often found herself thinking about it, wondering what might be going on in that trickster-like mind of his. And now here she was, so close she could smell whisky on his breath and cloves on his skin.

“You think I want this?” he asked. “That I asked for it? You think you know me, Elain?”

The way he whispered her name sent a shiver racing through her. She could do nothing to control it. His voice was dark and heavy as he spoke as though he were trying desperately to hold something back.

“No,” she said as evenly as she could manage. “Perhaps I don’t know you. But whose fault is that?”

A sharp smile.

“Oh?” he raised his hand to curl a finger beneath her chin. “It’s my fault, is it?”

She could only stare. She feared that if she nodded it would just give her body permission to go falling into his arms like one of the heroines from Nesta’s favorite books.

“Yes,” she replied when it was clear he was waiting for her to answer. “You are not an easy person to know.”

Lucien laughed, laughed, at her. The sound rumbled from him and sent flurries through Elain’s belly. “I’m not easy to know? You, Elain, have never met yourself, have you? For every chance I’ve tried to get to know you, you have ignored me. Hiding behind tea cups and floral arrangements. I have tried to reach out but you have said nothing. Believe you me, say the word and I will be gone.”

Elain rolled her eyes. “You won’t leave. This marriage contract benefits your father as much as mine.”

“I care not for my father,” Lucien said. The mention of his father leeched the warmth that usually accompanied him away as suddenly as if she’d smothered him. His eyes sharpened though, boring into her. “Nor do I answer to him.”

Elain’s heart beat far too heavily in her chest. They were up on the third floor of the mansion, the sounds of the party a mere hum in the background. She should have been concerned about being alone with a man, being so close to him. She should be concerned over the party continuing on without her for heaven’s sake. But all Elain could do was stare into Lucien’s gaze.

She wet her lips, speaking before she lost her nerve. “Who do you answer to, then?”

A look flashed in his eyes and Elain swore it was hunger. Desire. Want. No one had ever looked at her like this before. It sent a flush through her entire body. If she’d still had a wit of decorum left in her senses she would have shoved him away. As it was, she arched toward him. Whether it was simply for the connection of another human or for feeling more than the dainty woman everyone thought her to be--

Lucien’s eyes pierced her to the very soul. And when he dipped in closer, Elain felt her breath catch. One of his hands brushed over her cheek as though painting the blush right onto her skin.

Elain’s lips tingled in anticipation; certain he was about to kiss her. Much to her surprise, and horror, she wanted him to. In the years since the incident at the stream she’d tried not to think about him. She’d tried to forget that small taste of protectiveness and rebel against it. She'd become so used to being told what her life would be like and how she should act that now having him thrust upon her in such a manner made her want to shrink back. To fight any claim he might make over her.

But he did now want this either, did he? A forced marriage being controlled. This was never what he'd imagined for himself…was it?

And yet there was a desperation to him as his hands went to her waist, fingers tightening in the fabric of her gown. He didn't want to let her go…despite it all.

"What do you want, Lucien?" She asked when the silence stretched too long.

He leaned into her and Elain would have stumbled if he hadn't been supporting her she would have simply forgotten to stand sinking into those russet eyes of his.

"I," he began, but there was the click of a door and the two sprung apart looking for the source of the noise.

There emerging from her rooms in a simple blue dress was Feyre. She merely raised a brow. Just because she wasn’t allowed to attend the ball downstairs did not mean she was supposed to stay in her rooms. Well, their mother certainly expected it, but Elain knew her sister. Feyre had likely stolen a bottle of wine and had a little nook set up on the roof with her paints and a canvas.

Feyre crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the doorway of her room. “I do hope I'm not interrupting anything.”

The drawl was pointed, amused. Lucien emitted a low growl that only Elain could hear before he pulled away. He made sure Elain would keep her footing this time.

The interruption was just what Elain needed. She pulled out of Lucien's grasp, not an easy task when he seemed determined not to let her go, and faced her sister.

“Feyre,” she said. “What are you doing?”

Feyre betrayed nothing as her blue eyes widened in innocence. “Simply out for a stroll and thought I'd heard your voice.”

Her sister was a menace that shouldn't be trusted.

“Shouldn't you be enjoying the ball you planned?” Feyre continued, not moving from her perch in the doorway. She gave a pointed look at Elain’s rumpled appearance.

“Your sister was merely showing me about the manor,” Lucien stepped in lightly.

“Liar.” Amusement flashed in Feyre’s eyes.

“Feyre!” Elain could only stare at her sister. Seventh son or not, you didn't say such things to the son of a duke.

But Lucien merely laughed. “I can see why you're tucked away up here, not many could stand your sharp tongue, I take it.”

Feyre lifted her chin, eyes narrowed. “Consider it a good thing you're already betrothed. For I could make things miserable for you, Lord.”

Having had enough of this mess, Elain took Lucien's hand and pulled him down the hall, away from Feyre’s rooms. She knew her sister’s threat was mild to say the least, Feyre hardly cared about propriety or what they’re mother said.

“Perhaps you should tend to your studio sister,” Elain said. She gave Feyre a significant look which mostly went ignored.

“Good night,” Feyre sang lightly and then returned to her room, the door sticking shut behind her.

With no intention of showing Lucien Vanserra her bed chamber, Elain practically shoved him through the next available doorway, a broom closet, and rounded on him. She’d misjudged how big the closet was because when she turned to more effectively yell at Lucien, he was far closer to her than she’d expected. In fact, her nose nearly brushed his chest. There was no where she could go because she was a fool who had stuffed herself and Lucien in said closet without any second thought.

Craning her neck to glare at him, Elain crossed her arms over her chest. She ignored the fact that her bare arms ran along the soft fabric of his jacket sending small sparks along her skin.

Lucien meets her gaze, raising a brow that stretches out the scars that line one side of his face.

“Really, Elain? I thought you wanted to avoid this sort of scandal?”

As if anyone would care if they were stuffed in a closet together. If anything, it would only make her mother happy as they would be forced to move the wedding date up. A thought that churned Elain’s stomach.

Still, she set her jaw and did her best to appear to be looking down her nose at him. “Scandal. Our mothers would happily march us down the aisle tomorrow if they could.”

“Indeed,” Lucien mused. “Seems a bit silly then that we continue with a betrothal if that is the case.”

She pursed her lips. “I’ll retain what little freedom I have left for a bit longer, thank-you.”

Lucien’s brow ticked higher in the silent ask: then what are we doing in this damnable closet? Or something close to it because that was certainly the thought racing through her own mind.

“By spending the duration of your party in a closet,” he murmured instead. His breath aired out against her face: warm and tainted with the spicy scent of whiskey.

“It’s my mother’s party,” Elain said, a bit too sharply. Even though she’d been the one to organize everything to confirm the menu to— “And she made it clear I’m supposed to spend time with my betrothed. So really, I’m doing exactly what is expected of me.”

A small huff of amusement escaped Lucien’s lips and he shook his head. “Well, congratulations on that, I suppose.”

“Thank-you.”

Another smile turned up the corners of his mouth, his stupidly attractive mouth.

She took a small moment to force a quick breath, praying it would calm her erratic heartbeat. It didn’t work and she felt a flush begin to rise along her skin, creeping across her collarbone and neck.

“You wished to speak to me,” she said, voice quiet in an effort to hold back her flurry of emotions, “isn’t that why you chased me all around my home?”

That smile of his remained even as he pulled back to put space between them once more. “I know this marriage is not ideal for both of us, however, it is one that will benefit both of our families. Which we’re both concerned with.”

He gave her a significant look; the kind that said he was well aware of the pressures she was under from her parents.

“And?” she pressed, ready to get out of this damned closet that was somehow getting too small--the walls closing too tight around them and the scent of his cologne too strong and delicious.

“And I propose an…understanding,” he said. He paused as he considered his next words. “There is no escaping what awaits us, but we need not be miserable.”

Elain’s stomach churned at his words and what he could mean. She wasn’t a dunce, she knew that displeasure and unhappiness prevailed in most marriages of the -ton, her parents for example. But that’s not what she wanted. She wanted a marriage and happiness and a husband who favored her. And now here was her intended off to suggest affair partners before they were even wed.

“I would that we could be friends,” Lucien said, cutting in to the spiral of Elain’s thoughts.

She frowned; certain she hadn’t heard him right. “Friends?”

“Friends.”

Staring up at him, Elain tried to read his face. It was impassive as ever, the only thing showing any trait of personality being the scars that emanated from his eye. Though, she supposed that didn’t count.

“You want to be my friend?” she asked. Such a thing had never occurred, nor been proposed, to her. Mama always said that men wanted one thing and one thing alone and they would use her for it in any way they could. Besides, Elain had never had a real friend before. She could never trust her maids or ladies in waiting—they were all too loyal to Mama. She had her sisters, but Nesta was married now and Feyre had her own little tricks up her sleeves. They’d never been close and Elain doubted they ever would.

“Yes.”

And Elain, for some strange reason, believed him. For the most part. She wouldn’t let him behave so casually and confidently though.

“And what does being your friend entail?” she asked. Curious to see how he would define the word. It wasn’t as though she had a good definition herself, but that didn’t matter.

Amusement flashed briefly in his eyes before vanishing entirely.

“Never had a friend before, Lady Elain?” He asked it with amusement and fully of jest but the question pierced straight to her soul.

Because no; she’d never had a friend before. Not really. Not a close confidant nor companion. Oh, she had her sisters, but theirs was a strange thing to where Elain wasn’t sure exactly where they stood together.

Realizing she’d been quiet for too long, Elain merely shrugged. “Never one so misbehaving as you.”

That got a full laugh out of him. Rich and bright, Elain knew she wouldn’t forget the sound of it anytime soon. She didn’t think she’d ever heard him laugh like that.

“I suppose I can try and be better,” he said, “for you.”

“That’s all I would ask of you,” Elain said, with far more bravado than she felt. She then repeated her earlier question. “What would you ask of me, as your friend?”

“To trust me, to talk to me.”

He made it sound so easy that Elain just kept watching him, waiting for the impossible requirement to rear its head.

“That’s it?”

“For now.” And just like that his roguish nature returned and whatever brief kinship Elain may have thought present evaporated. His eyes gleamed with obvious merriment and a subtle slouch entered his posture.

Elain did her best to rise to her full height as she glared at him, which only made him smirk. With as much dignity she could muster, Elain reached around him to the door of the closet to shove it open. She needed space, needed fresh air, needed to not be so close to him while her mind ran rampant and chaotic.

“Until the next,” Lucien said.

Ever the gentleman, Lucien took her hand. He leaned in to press a kiss to the back of her fingers. Elain ignored the way her stomach clenched and her skin tingled. But it was hard to ignore the way his hand practically dwarfed hers and his woodsy scent wrapped around her.

And just like that, he slipped out of the closet to leave her alone with her thoughts. Thoughts that were not conducive to friendship. And thoughts that were simply not real to begin with. Because Lucien Vanserra, and whatever understanding they’d come to, was never going to lead her to happiness.

#elucien #elucienweek2024 #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #elain x lucien #i am the worst at moodboards apprently #yeesh not my best effort #acotar

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wingsdippedingold · 5 months ago

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@theladyofbloodshed made a wonderful post examining the usage of “bastard” in the ACOTAR series (with data!!!)

And to that I’d like to add my own two cents. Bastard’s technical deffiniton is an illegitimate child, and while that is heavily looked down upon in medieval/fantasy settings and is used with a negative connotation, the world itself is a classification.

Now the world is also used as a general way to describe a distasteful man. Aka just a general insult, a (less severe imo) male equivalent of bitch.

What I find curious is that Nesta never uses bastard towards Cassin in its actual definition, or even in reference to being an Illyrian, but merely as an insult:

Bastard in ACOWAR - defending him

“arrogant bastard” - ACOSF - Cassian wouldn’t let her go

Bastard in her training - ACOSF - he was forcing her to train

Cass & Az as bastards -AcOSF - they were chasing the obstacle courses

Who does use it within its actual definition/ to refer to birth status?

Rhysand & Feyre regarding Cass and Az, and initially Lucien, (a lot, it’s getting concerning)!

The IC! Its literally always them! Non-ic characters use it about 9 (vs the ic which is over 80) times throughout the series, and only 4 times is it possibly referring to a birth status

And… drumroll please… even though we all know the answer… Cassian! He uses it towards himself and Azriel to derogatorily refer to his birth and heritage as an illyrian. He quite literally calls himself a “bastard-borne brute” and says Nesta has called him that many times before, which she hasn’t. She never implied anything more than her distaste for him and his actions in general when using the word “bastard”

Nesta is not responsible for his feeling of inadequacy. Cassian himself views himself as unworthy and a “bastard”. Those are his own issue to work through, not ones that are imposed by Nesta.

#anti sjm #anti acosf #nesta archeron #pro nesta archeron #cassian #cassian critical #anti nessian #anti ic #ic critical

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goldenivy0 · 5 months ago

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A lot of times I find myself wondering why in the world I love Lucien so much but then I remember that every single time this man appears on page it is to either break my heart into a million pieces (in a good way) or to absolutely SLAY!

Chapter 18 from ACOFAS is one of the moments where I got simultaneously the angriest with Feyre but also the most attracted to Lucien I've ever been without even having a physical description of this man in it (or his physical appearence being a focal point in it).

Feyre is basically judging him for having found new friends in Jurian and Vassa and for feeling more comfortable with two humans than with the High Fae. The dialogue after that reads like this:

"If you ask me—"

"I'm not."

Uuuum... 👀🥵 The way I GASPED when he said this.. I love how he has no problem in humbling Feyre, or anyone in the IC for that matter (ok maybe not Amren lol 😂) when they need to be humbled and brought back to reality. As if this wasn't enough this girl proceeds to make fun of the "Band of Exiles" title to which Lucien, slaying again, answers:

"You can be as much of an asshole as that mate of yours, you know that?"

Even though I don't hate Feyre's character (I'm okay with her), she was 100% in the wrong here, and having Lucien saying that to her face just made me like him more. This man is so fine.

Their interaction in this chapter basically ends like this:

《 "Checking in?" Lucien asked quietly.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said, my face the portrait of boredom.

He gave me a knowing look, continuing to the door and grabing his heavy overcoat and scarf from the hooks mounted on the wood paneling beside it. "The bigger box is for you. The smaller one is for her." 》

Not only is this man handsome as hell (this is canon), sexy and charismatic, he's also incredibly observant and smart. He knew Feyre was talking mind to mind with Rhys and confronted her with it. And after she lied, being the gentleman he is, he only turned around, told her which present was hers which was Elain's, and left. 🥵🥵 HEEELP

I'm telling you right now, the way I'm in love with this man is NOT okay 😂. I was twirling my hair this whole chapter because of him. Sorry but he could become the villain in the next book and I'd applaud him.

#best character in ACOTAR #I love him your honor #lucien vanserra supremacy

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acourtofkindness · 5 months ago

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Thank you for sending in all the stories, here you can find the collection! Some of these are one-shots, some are longer stories, just click your way through them and also check out their other fics!

Dear Lucien, Dear Elain: An Epistolary Fic

by @zenkindoflove and @crazy-ache After the winter solstice in ACOSF, Elain and Lucien exchange letters as a means to get to know each other away from prying eyes. This fic is a collection of those letters.

Summer Heat

by @zenkindoflove Summer Court is hosting the Summer Solstice Summit and the Night Court is sending their best emissaries to attend. It will be Elain's first time mingling in another court, and it's a good thing she has an expert guiding her: the mate she's been ignoring for the last two years. Meanwhile, Eris has been sent to the summit to spy on Summer's developments. What he doesn't anticipate is entangling in a steamy, forbidden romance.

playgirl

by @damedechance Under the anonymous screen name witch_hazel, Elain Archeron has been moderating the chatroom of rising OnlyFans creator, swiper-no-swiping (Lucien) for a little less than a year. When he comes to Velaris from out of town, they agree to meet up, and the unspoken attraction between them reaches a boiling point.

Separate My Body From My Soul

by @crazy-ache from the fic summary: When Lucien Vanserra is held captive by his father in the cruel depths of Autumn, there is only one force more powerful than politics that can save him—his mating bond with Elain Archeron. She must make the choice to save him, even if it means binding their souls forever.

Realizations, Finally

@trappedoutside124 (ao3) The meeting of the High Lords in Adriata means that Elain will be face-to-face with her mate for the first time in months. Despite herself, she can't help but wonder where he goes each evening when he leaves the castle with Vassa and Jurian. So, she decides to find out.

The Dance of Day

by @wyse-ink (ao3) It's not the first time Elain thinks she could get used to the perks of the Day Court, even if she can't get her mate out of her mind.

The Things that Go Bump in the Night

by @fieldofdaisiies At breakfast Elain and Lucien’s daughter has some questions about the things she heard the previous night, a little afraid her parents were fighting, and of course Nesta and Cassian are present, making it even more uncomfortable; this is inspired by a scene from bad moms 3

Our Hearts Still Beat the Same

by @zenkindoflove "She stood on the bridge for a few minutes, hoping that the rain might wash away the seething anger and bottomless anguish that crackled under her skin. More, more, more, repeated again and again to a steady beat. His heart beat." Elucien, Two-shot, Post-ACOSF. Part One is Cozy Tension. Part Two is all smut.

They Say I Did Something Bad

by @separatist-apologist Elain Archeron's fiance is a total stranger to her, though his family's reputation for cruelty and avarice is not. Dreading a lifetime with a cruel, cold man, Elain decides to have one last night of freedom. Attending an infamous masquerade ball, Elain meets a stranger who offers to show her pleasure beyond her wildest dreams. It's just one night of debauchery. What could possibly go wrong?

Emissaries With Benefits

by @velidewritesWhen diplomacy fails, Prythian courtiers Elain and Lucien like to resort to a steamier kind of negotiation.

I Know Places We Won't Be Found

by @separatist-apologistapologist They'll be chasing their tails trying to track us down Elain Archeron and Lucien Vanserra are two sides to the same coin, not that they'd ever know it. After nearly four years of ignoring each other, the mating bond between them, and their trauma, Lucien has had enough. While Lucien is ready for resolution, Elain is still trying to figure out who she is now that she's not human, and unravel her cauldron-blessed powers which seem to intensify with each passing year. When an accidental street fire prompts Elain to call Lucien for help, Lucien decides to take Elain from the Night Court entirely, effectively kidnapping her. Tucked away in the Spring Court, far from prying eyes, Elain will have to reconcile who she was as a human with who she is as a Fae, and decide if the man she's mated to is who she wants to spend the rest of her immortal life with.

I Like You

by @fieldofdaisiies Elain decides that she is ready to make a move towards Lucien. And yes, it is a bit sad.

All You Have Is Your Fire

by @clockwork_ashes (on ao3) 'I can hear your heart beating through the stone.' For the briefest of moments, Lucien wondered if his mate would know exactly when his heart’s steady rhythm came to a sudden stop. Elain goes to the Autumn Court demanding an audience with the High Lord to save the mate she can barely stand to be in the same room with. She ends up having to stay much longer than she bargained for.

Tales of the Fox & the Fawn

by @lucienarcheron A series of short snippets to fill my Elucien heart <3

Heading Straight to You

by @lucienarcheron Inspired by a tumblr post I've also linked below: "I need elain to have her anthony bridgerton moment where lucien asks if she wants him to sever the bond and leave & she goes “do you think there’s a corner on this earth that you could travel to far enough to free me from this torment? you are the bane of my existence. and the object of all my desires." So I decided to give elucien their own bridgerton moment :) Enjoy!

This Time, I'm Ready

by @lucienarcheron Inspired by Long Story Short by TS. I was listening to it randomly and a scene of Elain started playing out in my head. Recommend listening to it while reading :)

Throw Me To The Flames

by @separatist-apologist Elain only ever meant to deliver a message to Vassa on behalf of her sister's court. She never intended to see Lucien. And she CERTAINLY didn't mean to get in the way of a knife that was only ever meant for his chest. Kidnapped, and dragged helpless to the continent, the two will have to work together if they want to survive.

The Last Of The Real Ones

by @separatist-apologist I'm here in search of your glory, there's been a million before me; that ultra kind of love you never walk away from. Elain Archeron finds fate to be cruel when her youngest sister, Feyre, cuts down a wolf one frozen, winter night and a beastly Faerie Lord named Tamlin demands retribution in the form of her life for the Fae lost. Elain is dragged into Prythian and eternal Spring where a mysterious blight has made magic more dangerous than ever. Navigating eternal Spring is made more difficult by Tamlin's infuriating emissary Lucien Vanserra and his sharp tongue. As the blight spins out of control, Elain will have to decide how far she's willing to go to keep her new home safe. ACoTaR re-write; just come inside.

Sounds of Summer

by @animezinglife Time seems to move more slowly in the Summer Court, and Lucien and Elain take in every second. A short scene of the two in Summer.

Never Not Mine

by @separatist-apologist Elain Archeron has been betrothed to the seventh born son of Autumn for as long as she can remember. With her family's reputation in the balance, Elain is resigned to her fate. That doesn't mean she has to like it...or that she has to make it easy for him.

#elucien #elain archeron #lucien acotar #elain x lucien #elucien recommendation #acosf #acotar #acourtofkindness

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oristian · 3 months ago

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I have a theory about Elain Archeron and where her book could potentially go. These are just my own thoughts and everyone is free to disagree if they so see fit. This theory is ACOTAR specific and will not touch on the other two series. I may come back here at some point after my SJM reread, but that is months in the future.

I have a theory that Elain will be manipulated by Koschei to free him from his lake. Since this antagonist has been introduced, it has been beaten into the reader that he is trapped by ancient magic at his lake, and his ultimate goal is to be freed and to fix this ‘desolate’ world. He has been in cohorts with Queen Briallyn in ACOSF to find the items of the Dread Trove—once Nesta had two in her possession, the plan had changed to use Cassian to force Nesta to hand them over. Koschei had, ultimately, wanted the Dread Trove items to free himself from the lake.

Before I touch on Koschei, I want to touch on Elain. There were two instances of dialogue and/or inner monologue that have stuck with me. The first is the dinner scene where Elain questions if Amren was able to shift forms once she settled into her new body—Amren pointedly informed her that she would never turn human again. The second instance was Cassian dwelling on not quite believing that Elain was going to help tend to a garden the next morning.

A large theme between the Archeron sisters is that they needed to overcome the hurdle of accepting their lives as fae in order to fully heal along their journeys. Elain has been the most negatively affected by turning fae—going so far as to lose her mortal fiancé. I am inclined to believe that Elain’s story is going to delve heavily into her aversion of being fae. I also connect this to ACOWAR when Elain asked to be glamoured to appear mortal when she and the entourage went to Graysen’s family estate.

I believe that Elain is not gardening around Velaris as she claims to be—at least, not consistently. I also believe that she wants to find any means to turn back into a mortal in order to be with Graysen once more. I connect this back to ACOFAS where Feyre harps on Elain not wanting a male, but a human man. Now, to the climatic moment of the theory: I believe that Koschei is speaking to Elain through the wind and/or her visions and will promise to turn her back into a mortal if she frees him from his lake.

Koschei communicates through the wind, as that is how he is able to gain allyship with Briallyn and Beron from the confines of his lake. Vassa confirms that Koschei had manipulated the other Queens into selling her to him. “[…], whispered on the winds.”

I connect Elain and Koschei together through Papa Archeron. I wonder if Koschei managed to find out about Elain through him, or if Elain being Made was whispered to him the same way that Nesta was to everyone else—A Cauldron-Made Seer with the ability to view his weakness. Someone like that is a risk to his very livelihood, and his overall order of operations. Elain Archeron introduced the reader to Koschei, and that will be her arc and antagonist in her book.

According to lore, Koschei’s box holds his immortality. Destroying the contents will ultimately destroy him—Koschei the Deathless bested by his own creation. I do wonder what Papa Archeron was able to negotiate with him that was enticing enough for Vassa to be released temporarily to him. “Tell my Vassa I’m waiting.”

I see Elain either giving Vassa back to Koschei, or freeing him from his lake. I then see this being the start of her healing journey—she realized the mess that she had made, and she hastily goes to try and fix it. Koschei is part of Prythian lore and the one court that has thousands of libraries with every piece of knowledge from their world documented would be the Day Court.

I do see a bit of Beron and the subplot of Helion and the Lady of Autumn being dealt with in this book, hence why I believe that Elain and Lucien will be sharing the same book. Not only was Beron an ally to both Briallyn and Koschei, but Eris comments to Cassian at the end of ACOSF that Beron very well may still allege to Koschei.

There are so many ways that SJM could take Elain’s story and this is just a single interpretation. Feel free to add your own thoughts and/or tell me why you may disagree! This is all in good fun, after all.

#elain archeron #pro elain #pro elain archeron #acotar #acowar #acofas #acosf #acowhattt #elucien #pro elucien #koschei #theory #acotar theory #acotar theories

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laxmiree · 4 months ago

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[CN] MLQC Lucien’s Sweet Scheme ASMR translation

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️

This post contains a detailed spoiler for an ASMR that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

T/N: The ASMR name 蜜谋 (mìmóu) consists of two characters: 蜜 (mì), meaning "honey" or "sweet," and 谋 (móu), meaning "plan"/"plot"/"scheme". In this ASMR, it refers to Lucien scheming to get punished (and also the other way around) LOL

⚠️ This ASMR is NSFW and NOT suitable for individuals under the age of 18 due to its sexual nature. It is recommended that those who do not meet this age requirement refrain from proceeding beyond this point.

Twitter link [click here]

GDrive link [soon]

Transcript under the cut~

[Transcript]

[sounds of door opening + clinking of things]

I'm back.

Today's experiment

went much smoother than I expected,

so I came back early.

Just in time,

I also wanted to see you sooner.

Hmm?

What are you doing

Are these… gems?

[chuckles] I have only heard about it on the phone before

when you were filming a jewelry show

you bought a very beautiful emerald rough

[the fact that the emerald is still rough is important for the later part because it means that the edges are sharp and can cause pain-]

I just didn't expect…

there to be so many.

There's only one,

and the rest are candies?

[chuckles] So that's how it is

If I find the gem,

will it and you both belong to me?

It seems that

this is a "test" for me from my little lady.

Of course, I am willing to accept all your challenges.

However, before we begin,

I would like to understand the rules of this game.

For example,

how many chances do I have?

Or…

if I guess wrong,

what will the punishment be?

[the way he said it… man is looking forward to the punishment🤪]

Hmm?

You want to keep it a secret for now?

[chuckles]

Okay

Then…

[Lucien reaches out his hand to pick up one of the "gems", but is held back]

Am I not allowed to pick it up,

and can only observe it here?

[chuckles]

Fine

Then…

I'll choose this one.

Hmm?

Did I guess wrong?

Alright

Then can you tell me now

what the punishment is?

Close my eyes?

[some rustling noises in the background as he is being stripped open-]

[LUCIEN'S HEAVENLY PANTING AS HE'S BEING PUNISHED-]

…although when you stripped open my clothes

I probably knew what the "punishment" would be,

the "gem" you just placed on my back

is even a little colder than I imagined.

This little lady looks a bit disappointed…

Hmm?

[chuckles]

Because I don't look surprised?

Maybe it's because,

when I guessed wrong, the mischievous look in your eyes was too obvious.

[T/N: he affectionately uses the title “little classmate” (小同学); I'm using ‘you’ for better flow~]

However

Compared to my back…

The waist areas around ribs,

and lower abdomen below navel,

are densely populated with nerve endings

and are much more sensitive.

[some DELICIOUS soft moans as he’s being punished in those places-]

[breathlessly] These areas

might better achieve the effect you desire.

[hell yea I sure wonder what kind of another ”””effect””” she's looking for-]

[chuckles]

Then…

I'll continue guessing

[chuckles]

This piece has a cooler color

The cracks in the crystal are also more natural

It seems to be the one

Did I guess wrong again?

I didn't expect this game

to be more "challenging" than I imagined.

[sigh]

It seems this little classmate is going to win another round.

Bring it on.

[chuckles] You can use a bit less force.

Otherwise,

the stimulation felt by the nerve endings

will be overshadowed by other sensations

[other sensations here might refer to pain caused by too much force… pain play doesn't work as well as temperature play on him due to him canonically having an absurdly high pain threshold and is less sensitive to pain]

Just like this…

[Lucien takes one of the “gems” and runs it on her body]

Hmm?

Did it feel cold to you?

I just think that

personally experiencing this feeling

will help you do it better.

[I think he doesn't mind the pain itself, BUT if you want to give him ‘better’ punishment, focus more on the temperature play🤪]

[chuckles]

Sorry

the way you opened your eyes wide just now

was really cute.

It made me want to be a bit more "excessive."

The one I have in my hand

should be the emerald you asked me to guess.

Of course, it can't be wrong

In the emerald ore,

there are some granules and textures

Moreover

emeralds are called beryls

and are mostly in the shape of hexagonal prisms.

When you were preparing the show,

I also secretly "stole" some knowledge from you.

Did I guess wrong on purpose before?

You caught me.

Within the rules,

experiencing everything the game has to offer is what makes it enjoyable, right?

[chuckles] Don't get distracted,

look,

the candy in your hand is already starting to melt.

Although this beautiful and translucent gem

is also very captivating.

To me,

the candy in your hand is more attractive.

[sounds of him rolling the candy to his mouth and licking the melting sugar on her hand]

Although it looks just like a gemstone on the surface,

it's sweeter than I imagined.

It has a bit of a green grape flavor.

Miss Producer,

haven't you tried it yourself?

Then…

[kissing noises as he ‘shares’ the candy sensually]

Let's share the fruit of this "victory" together.

[MORE delicious kissing noises before it fades away. With him being stripped off, I think we all know where this is going iykwim-]

#SWITCH LUCIEN IS REAL #man really have exclusive reward and punishment n enjoy being punished lol #not as crazy ahh as chair creaking or slime but still.... something #mlqc lucien #mr love queen's choice #mlqc cn #mlqc spoiler #mlqc #mlqc translation #mr. love queen's choice #mr love lucien #mlqc xu mo #mlqc spoilers #the fact that he knows exactly much force to deliver better punishment tho #switch king is enjoying both receiving and administering *nods*

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clockwork-ashes · 1 month ago

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All You Have Is Your Fire - Part XXIX

Find all previous parts on Ao3 :)

Summary: 'I can hear your heart beating through the stone.' For the briefest of moments, Lucien wondered if his mate would know exactly when his heart’s steady rhythm came to a sudden stop.

Note: A huge thank you to the lovely @sad-scarred-sassy who deserves all the credit for the post that inspired me to start writing this :) Another huge thank you to everyone reading! ALSO please look at this post, I gasped it's so lovely. All of @teddyhoneybear's moodboards are stunning <3

Tag List: @anishake / @nocasdatsgay / @mybestfriendmademe / @talibunny30 / @halfbutneverwhole / @wishfulimaginings / @goldenmagnolias / @emmers-bens123 / @cauldronblssd / @xirose / @rarephloxes / @thehighlordishere / @the-darkestminds / @lady-of-tearshed

Elain straightened her skirts, smoothing out the fabric with gentle fingers. The golden rings she was wearing glimmered when she moved, attracting her attention. Rubies and pearls adorned each band, riches on full display as was traditionally expected of an Autumn Court bride. She breathed in, feeling Lucien’s presence down the bond. She could practically feel each beat of his heart matching the rhythm of her own, a familiar comfort while she waited by the edge of the woods.

Cora had just left to tell Lucien that Elain was ready, disappearing in an effortless winnow and leaving her to wait for Eris to arrive. She absently patted the crown of her head, ensuring no curl was out of place. The comb Eris had gifted her pinned the strands away from her face, revealing the pale column of her neck. She bit her lip nervously, wondering if Lucien would find her lovely.

My mate.

Elain whispered the words, grounding herself in the moment.

My husband.

She supposed she might have to get used to referring to Lucien as such, even if they had both decided to take things slow once they returned to Velaris. There were countless little details Elain still wanted to know about the man she had risked everything for, and considering she was immortal, they would have all the time in the world. She could imagine it all so clearly, experiencing the small and everyday joys with someone she had undoubtedly fallen for.

Elain smiled, her lips pulled upwards involuntarily as memories from the night before flashed in her mind. Lucien had known exactly what she had needed, and she had managed to surprise even herself at the shameless way she had expressed her every desire. It had been absolutely perfect, he had been absolutely perfect.

At the quiet sound of low voices, Elain was dragged out of her thoughts. She got onto the tips of her toes, peering through the foliage until her eyes landed on a familiar figure. She spotted Eris, his hair a near match to the maple leaves that gently danced around her. Gripping her skirts, she began to walk towards him, but she stopped in her tracks when she noticed that his father was at his side.

Eris looked handsome in a flawlessly tailored waistcoat, the brocade pattern shimmering to look like roses against the dark brown fabric. There was not a single wrinkle on his neatly pressed shirtsleeves, and his long leather boots appeared to be brand new. He barely resembled his father, and the stark contrast in their outfits highlighted each difference.

The High Lord was wearing an elegant jacket made of velvet in a deep shade of crimson. The cut was simple yet flattering, golden details stitched along the collar created a beautiful pattern, standing out brightly against the material. He looked devastatingly regal and completely in his element.

A warning shiver ran up Elain’s spine, the feeling making her uneasy. It felt like a warning, a bird’s call before a raging thunderstorm. A voice seemed to linger in the large open space, urging her to wait.

Instead of continuing forward, Elain hid herself from view, trying her best to use her surroundings as a shield. Drawing on her very limited knowledge of stealth, she focused her energy on staying as quiet as she could. Her palm touched the rough bark of the tree next to her, and she leaned onto the thick trunk slightly for support, the pure white train of her dress dragging along wavy roots. She strained her ears, listening to the steady rise of the High Lord’s voice as the two men approached, coming closer and not knowing that they were being watched.

“When the girl arrived in our court, I wasn’t pleased,” Beron said, his footsteps silent along the forest floor despite the twigs and leaves in his path. For a moment, Elain was reminded of a vicious predator, feline in nature, ready to pounce.

Eris hummed, the soft response carrying on a gentle wind. “And now?”

Beron shrugged, his broad shoulders shifting upwards. “She’s grown on me.”

Elain realised belatedly that they were speaking about her. She felt as her brows pinched together. Curiosity had her inching forward in an attempt to hear better, eager to know what else they might say. The feeling of dread still lingered in her gut, and she worried if Eris might share her secret with his father. Anger gripped her readily, and she knew a frustrated blush was staining her pale cheeks.

Elain gasped when a rough hand grabbed her wrist, and although she was able to stop herself from crying out in surprise, terror slowed her reactions. Slim fingers cold as ice held onto her tightly, feeling like claws. Once her emotions settled, she whipped her head around to see who it was, prepared to scream for help.

“What are you doing?” Lethe hissed, the question falling between clenched teeth. She was clearly not very pleased with having caught someone eavesdropping on a private conversation between her friend and his father.

Elain kept her voice low, barely a whisper as she made her demand. “Let go.”

The other woman did not, but Elain was secretly very proud of herself for maintaining her composure. Lethe tugged her arm forcefully. “You’re being rude,” she admonished, judgement leaking into her tone despite how quiet the words were.

Elain rolled her eyes, biting back a bitter accusation as she once again turned her attention to the High Lord. He had a hand on his son’s shoulder, the gesture surprisingly sweet and fatherly. “I suppose I should thank you, Eris.”

At the words, even Lethe joined in listening, standing closer. She ignored the pointed look Elain shot in her direction, aggressively knocking into her shoulder. It was almost friendly, playful in nature, easing some of her nerves.

Elain saw as Eris frowned, a wary edge falling over his features. “For what?” He asked, tilting his head like a confused hound. Beron’s grasp tightened, the tips of his fingers leaving small imprints where they touched.

The world spun around Elain, making her lose every sense of direction. It was like the ground had disappeared beneath her feet, there and then gone. The feeling of Lethe’s fingers still on her wrist kept her from falling, and she struggled to connect what she saw in front of her with reality.

Darkness lingered at the edges of her vision, and her mouth was open although no sound fell from her tongue. She felt like she was floating, lingering like a fog that clung to the forest.

Beron had moved swiftly, like a snake rushing towards its prey. He held the hilt of a knife between his fingers, the only part visible as the blade dug deep through skin and bone. There was a flare of magic, flames dancing for a moment before extinguishing completely. Heat carried in waves, and Eris’s lips parted in silent shock. His amber eyes were wide, their golden depths fading, the strange colour leaking with every passing moment.

Beron shifted, his hand moving gently from where he had been gripping his son’s shoulder. He placed his palm against the crook of his neck, cupping Eris’s jaw, before he responded to the unanswered question. “For bringing me something Made.”

Elain would have made a sound, agony ripped through her chest, almost as if she had been the one stabbed. In response to the tension taking over her body, Lethe pulled her close so that Elain fell against her. The moan she made was muffled as the other woman pressed a hand so tightly to her mouth that she could scarcely breathe.

“Oh gods,” Lethe murmured, terror clinging to the prayer. She tried to pull them both away, but Elain dug her heels into the ground, keeping them in place.

Eris glanced at the dagger, his hand grabbing onto the High Lord’s fist. He took an uneasy step back. “Father—”

Beron followed, cutting short whatever his son had meant to say. “You lie like your mother,” he interrupted, poisonous resentment in the accusation. He moved his arm a second time, a flash of starlight as the weapon reflected the moon’s glow for the briefest of moments. Beron plunged the dagger forward with no hesitation, jerking the blade upwards violently.

Eris grunted, blood dripping from his mouth as he leaned into Beron’s grip. It was strange, Elain thought, that it almost looked affectionate. “You play the game of lords well, and I’ve grown to admire you for it, my boy.”

Eris clung to his father’s jacket, scarlet on his fingers. It was the exact shade of a rose petal, deep and lovely. It left no stain on the crimson velvet. He shook his head, eyes dark.

Beron continued, supporting his son’s weight. “But you’re weak in all the ways that matter, and for that, I have only myself to blame.”

Eris fell against his father, eyes fluttering shut, as he made a pained sound. Lethe groaned similarly as she watched, clinging to Elain desperately. Beron ran a hand over the back of his son’s head, pressing their foreheads together gingerly, lovingly. “I’m sorry, Eris,” he offered into the stretch of silence, sincerity dripping from his tone.

Eris did not respond. He only grunted one final time when Beron removed the dagger, the tip of the golden blade dull and strange. His knees gave out attempting to hold his own weight, and while a hand searched absently for the wound, the other lingered on his father’s boot. He coughed, blood staining his collar, scarlet ruining his waistcoat. Elain watched, frozen and horrified as Eris collapsed inelegantly, the action so at odds with the self control he usually possessed.

When he remained unmoving, Lethe sprung into action. She held onto Elain tightly, dragging her away. There were tears on both their cheeks, and Elain choked on a sob when Lethe finally removed the hand she had kept on her mouth.

Lucien.

Elain needed her mate.

“We have to find Callum,” Lethe mumbled, pulling Elain deeper into the woods, leading them towards the sounds of an assembled crowd.

Wedding guests.

Elain realised just as Lethe did that the usual rhythms of the forest had fallen silent. It was unnerving and unnatural, a warning just as striking as the toll of a bell. Lethe tensed before she shoved Elain forward, pushing her until she lost her balance. “Run,” she ordered, frightened eyes wide.

Elain could do nothing but obey. She began to sprint, kicking off her shoes so she could gain more purchase in the loose dirt. She did not even bother looking back to see if Lethe was following her, desperate in her attempts to reach Lucien. She tugged on the golden thread connecting them, hoping he would hurry.

Elain collided with branches as she continued towards the growing sound of laughter and conversation, sobbing in her relief. She was aware of a presence behind her, looming and ancient, the magic freezing the blood in her veins. Twigs cut at the skin of her cheeks, feeling like sharp nails.

A wolf howled beside her, haunting.

Elain nearly fell when she tripped on the uneven land, golden skirts getting in the way. She grabbed at the fabric, holding it near her waist.

The forest was a maze, and she was grateful for her faerie strength and stamina as she ran, trying to reach Lucien. She had to tell him about Eris, needed him to know about what his father had done.

Darkness appeared suddenly, like a cloud had floated across the sky and blocked the moon. Elain continued to run, slipping in her desperation, a sob ripped from deep within her throat.

There was no light, and she felt sick. The trees spun around her, overwhelming her senses as she tripped, scraping her legs. The copper scent of her own blood lingered in the air, dizzying. Elain fell to her knees as Eris had, but at least the ground was soft, she thought, the dirt smooth beneath her fingers.

Elain glanced up, craning her neck as the stars winked out of existence. She briefly saw the moon, shining through a gap in the dense canopy of leaves. It was framed prettily by the night sky, hope rising briefly but despair taking root as the moon was swallowed entirely by the dark.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #elucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #elain archeron x lucien vanserra #eris vanserra #beron vanserra #autumn court #all you have is your fire #ashes writes sometimes #thank you for reading!

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pictureinme · 1 year ago

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kinktober day ix. DRY HUMPING - neil lewis

word count: ~700 tags: semi-public, somewhat subby neil masterlist | ao3

It’s closing time at Gumshoe Video– the doors are locked, lights are dimmed, and you’ve just finished organizing the entire experimental section alphabetically. Your eyes wander as you stretch your aching arms to the sofa where Neil has sitting for the last half hour watching some shit horror movie– leaving you to close up. He’s lucky that you’re his girlfriend, otherwise, you would’ve smacked him upside the head. Well, you still could.

You approach him from behind, capitalizing on his attention being solely on the cheesy gore, and cover his eyes.

“Hmm, I wonder who that could be,” Neil isn’t surprised in the slightest by your antics. “Is it my cardboard cutout of Marlene Dietrich that’s come to life to finally kiss me back?”

“Ew, back?!” You yank your hands away from his eyes as he chuckles. “So that’s why there’s lipstick all over it, I guess.”

“Jesus, where’d I even get lipstick, babe?” He doesn’t deny him kissing the cutout.

“I know about your secret stash,” you walk around the sofa, and hop onto his lap suddenly, “You have many a dirty secret, don’t you, Neil?”

He smiles cockily as he runs his hands up your sides, and hums, “That’s up to you to find out, isn’t it?”

You roll your eyes and kiss him sweetly on the lips, your hands resting on his shoulders. He laughs into the kiss, and his hands continue to wander all over your body. Neil dips his hands under your shirt, feeling the cool skin of your stomach, causing you to shiver. You grind down subconsciously onto his lap, and he groans when he goes to take a breath.

He rolled his hips up to meet yours, the thick denim only dampening whatever pleasure he could be getting– but for you, it felt heavenly. You moan suddenly as the fabric rubs against your covered clit– digging your nails into his shoulders.

“Fuck, I want you, (Y/N)...” Neil mouths against your neck as you rock against him.

“I…” You crane your neck so he can kiss even more of it, “I want it like this.”

A loud moan escapes Neil’s throat as your words reach his ears– the idea of this has always aroused him to an embarrassing level. You giggle at how easy he is and continue to move against his growing hardness. His hands reach to your chest as he nips at your neck– you feel him everywhere and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Your breath grows ragged as you continue to hump against him, “Oh, it feels so good, Neil…”

“God, I know, fuck,” his head lolls back, eyes shut tight, “Don’t fucking stop.”

His hands come to grip your hips, not controlling your movements but simply going along with them. Neil is fully hard at this point, straining against the denim as you move relentlessly– the pleasure seeming palpable at this point. All you wanted was to chase your pleasure at this point, the harsh fabric almost painful against your arousal.

He couldn’t care less if you used him like this, it was beyond hot in his eyes– a sexy girl falling apart on top of you, and you don’t even have to put in any work? A lazy man’s dream, perfect for Neil.

Your nails dig into his shoulders, causing him to groan desperately– needing more of your touch. You grin wildly at this, the speed at which you move increasing exponentially. His eyes crack open to your barely bitten-back moans, signaling your closeness.

“Come on, (Y/N), make yourself come like this,” Neil’s own nails, despite their dullness, dig into your hips perfectly as you tighten your own grip. “I know you can, please…”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Your hips stutter against his lap, your neediness evident by the wet spot he begins to feel bleed onto his skin. He bites his lip as he watches you throw your head back, unashamed of the noises that could be heard by any passerby. Neil loved watching you like this– why would Lucien ever suggest stocking pornos when he’s got you?

#neil lewis x reader #cillian murphy x reader #neil lewis smut #cillian murphy smut #kinktober 2023

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violetasteracademic · 3 months ago

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What does it take for regifted jewelry to be romantic?

Rambling crap post that will literally only make sense of you have seen the movie The Family Stone but let's do it.

Sometimes I genuinely try to understand other ships. I actually really mean that, in a deeply authentic and non sarcastic way. If this shipwar wasn't so nasty, I'd engage with other people the way I do with my real, human, offline friends- some of whom are E/lucien's and G/wynriels. They are genuinely wonderful people who are not chronically online like we are (and we are, there's no point throwing that around as an insult) and they don't actually care that much. They are just going off vibes - but would be absolutely disgusted to see the violent misogyny and bullying that takes place here. We enjoy talking to each other about the ships, even when we don't agree.

Typically, when I am trying to understand something, I seek out more of it. I've asked my friends for fated mate book recommendations that match E/Lucien's story (meeting your mate, then genuinely falling for another person that is absolutely right for you in every way except for the fact that he is not your mate, and somehow the plot leads to falling in love with your mate that you don't like anyways because fate is always right and never makes mistakes, even if everyone is questioning it because you have feelings for someone else) and I haven't been able to find anything. The closest I can get is meeting your mate when you are possibly already in love/engaged/what have you to someone else and then you find out that person you are already with is actually the worst (aka Graysen) and then you wind up falling in love naturally and authentically with your mate. This is what makes it work. The person who isn't your mate showing his true colors and realizing you were wrong about them.

I think this is why Azriel's character has been rewritten to create a moment of the male Elain is actually into showing his true colors. Otherwise, her moving on to her mate that she isn't interested in just because the guy she likes rejected her literally doesn't make any sense. It can't be political machinations and the threat of violence and exterior motives and interference keeping Azriel and Elain apart. It has to be Azriel's personality and personhood, or the fated mates typical structure that I assume everyone is basing their thought process on falls apart.

I've actually been wracking my brain for years to find a piece of art or story that represents a piece of jewelry being regifted symbolizing the transference of a relationship and I FINALLY realized- my favorite holiday movie- The Family Stone! My God, the movie is literally named for the piece of jewelry, his mother's ring.

Finally having a piece to work with and pick apart allowed me to understand what elements are required to really pull off "regifting" to show that the gift is symbolically landing where it needs to go in a moving and romantic way.

1: The jewelry must not have been picked out and purchased for a specific woman, with deep and thoughtful insights as to why the man saw this piece of jewelry and thought of the woman he loves. In The Family Stone, the ring is an heirloom. It is no one's ring but his mother's. And the journey of this stone landing on the hand of the woman that is right for Emmet is deep, complicated, and heart breaking.

This is not the case for Azriel, who saw the rose necklace (very widely agreed to symbolically represent Elain on all sides) and saw something that the full depth and color was revealed when held to the light, a thing of secret, lovely beauty. And he knew it was meant for Elain. My God. Jfc. That's poetry.

2: The original recipient of the gift must actively show displeasure or disappointment in the jewelry- further revealing that this is the wrong woman.

In The Family Stone, Meredith (Sarah Jessica Parker), the "first" and "wrong" woman sees the ring on her little sister Julie's finger (Claire Danes) and while there is some drama (the ring symbolically gets stuck on Julie's finger lolol) Meredith looks at the ring and hilariously goes- "That's it?" because the diamond is so small. She doesn't like it. She wouldn't want to wear it. Meanwhile Julie was stunned. She lost her breath over its beauty and was overwhelmed.

Elain was also stunned and breathless at how beautiful her gift was. She wants to wear it immediately, and she wants him to put it on her. The act of this beautiful, thoughtful gift emboldens Elain to do something she has never done before: Blatant, unrestricted touching. Even while the man she is supposed to be with, the man whose gifts do disappoint her, sleeps upstairs. So the classic holiday romance trope of one gift is right and one gift is wrong is already playing out. From Elain's perspective, the woman who will demand a say in who she chooses and is the only confirmed FMC, she's been getting disappointing gifts from her mate for years. When she finally sees a gift that steals the air from her lungs and lights up her eyes, a gift she wants to wear and use immediately after years of lukewarm responses to the man she is "meant" to be with, it's romantic as fuck. Unless you don't like her and don't want her with Azriel, in which case it isn't romantic to you personally. However, personal opinion on Elain doesn't actually change the fact that after years of many of us already assuming Az and Elain were into each other, they had an extremely classic holiday romance reveal.

4: The act of changing your mind about who will receive this gift, in order for it to be romantic, must be an act of hope. An act of joy and dreams and revelation. Realizing that there is more out there for you, and after years of playing it safe, of trying to make it work for the wrong reasons with the wrong woman, you are ready to be brave and break your character patterns to act on that dream of happiness.

Near the climax of The Family Stone, we discover that Emmet's mother, the keeper of this ring, has had her breast cancer return. It is already clear she is not going to make it this time.

We learn that Emmet has been acting out of trauma, grief, and loss. He cannot wrap his mind around the thought of getting married without his mother being there. In a heart breaking scene, Sybil finally gives Emmet the ring she has been refusing the entire movie and lets him know it is his decision. But she also frees him from the horrible pressure he has placed on himself to get married while she is still alive. She wishes passion, joy, and happiness for him. She helps him cope with the loss of her, helps him heal the wound and burdens he carries of trying to be the Perfect Son and do everything right. All she wants for him is happiness and love. But ultimately, the decision is his.

In a rush of hope and healing, Emmet asks Julie to try the ring on. He wants to see it on her. It is a culmination. It is powerful, emotional, and restorative. In this story of brothers and sisters coping with the loss of their mother and trying to find their personal happiness, they all wind up together in the end. Meredith winds up telling Emmet she can't marry him, before he even reveals he decided not to ask her, because they both knew it wasn't right. It was so clear that they weren't in love with each other, but just trying to fit this ideal picture for reasons that had nothing to do with love. Still, Meredith isn't a villain, and winds up falling in love with his brother. The next year, everyone but Sybil gathers as a family, the first Christmas without her. The grief is palpable, but so is the love. The image of Sybil smiling at her gathered family through last year's gifted photograph of her ends the movie.

Azriel's regifting of Elaine's necklace was not a culmination. It was not an act of hope, it was not Azriel releasing Elain because he realized his love for her was not genuine and there was real and true happiness to be found in G/wyn. He did not even care to give it to her directly. He gave it to Clotho, who absolutely read the vibes and noted his sadness. He didn't even care if it wound up with Gwyn or literally any other priestess. He needed to relieve himself of the necklace because of the pain of not being able to be with Elain, just like Cassian yeeted his first Solstice gift to Nesta into the Sidra after her rejection. Regifted or getting rid of gifts as an act of pain is not romance. It is not even symbolic of a change. It only reflects a man who is hurting because he has nowhere to channel his love and longing.

What I find odd is that most people do agree that Az regifting the necklace via Clotho is absolutely not romantic, thus Azriel incel fuckboy (which literally makes no sense) was born. For the necklace regift to hold the symbolism that G/wynriels want it to hold (a sort of passing of the torch of Azriel's affection and attention) they agree that this is icky and gross behavior but G/wyn will fix him and he'll stop being icky and gross. I'd ask for recommendations on romances like that to try to understand that thought process as well, but frankly I am not interested.

Azriel getting rid of the necklace was not an act of hope, it was an act of pain. It was lot an act of love, it was an act of loss.

A change in who a gift belongs to can be romantic, with the right elements. The great ACOSF bonus chapter necklacegate has none of them. And yet somehow, even though everyone agrees it wasn't romantic, people are still out here arguing that it clearly symbolizes a new romance.

I assure you, romance symbolizes romance. It shouldn't be tricky or leave you feeling icky or like the MMC is flaky and entitled. I cannot think of a single romance author who thinks it's a good idea to sit down and write toxic fuckbois as MMC's. Even if they were toxic fuckbois in the past, they IMMEDIATELY simp for their women. As of now, Azriel still hasn't noticed G/wyn, his supposed mate, and is hurting and heartbroken over another woman that he would kill for if asked to. He is not coping with it by raking about town and looking for a new girl to fall in love with since he was ordered away from the one he wanted. He's just training, not sleeping, and putting rocks in snowballs.

When trying to determine what is being foreshadowed as romance, if we have to stretch beyond asking the simple question what is romantic, I fear we have lost the plot.

#elriel #pro elriel #elain x azriel #elain and azriel #death and his lovely fawn

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sidthedollface2 · 7 months ago

Text

A Crown fit for a God (Part 5)

Part 4

Pairing: Azriel x Fem Reader

Ch Summary: Elain tries to hold on to whatever relationship she and Azriel have left. Will he submit to her desires? Or seek you out instead?

You accidentally discover what the inside of a cell looks like.

word count: 4.3k

Ch warnings: SA (groping, not graphic and no p in v), thoughts of murder, drugging, cheating (don't worry), slight pregnancy talk.

Series warnings: 18+ MDNI, SMUT, mentions of SA, angst, hurt/comfort, war, murder including injuries, fighting, no use of y/n, nicknames, magic, greek mythology, pining, jealousy, soft Az with a little temper, azriel with other women (sorry), reader with another man (get it friend ; )

A/n: I had something totally different planned but decided to take this little detour. Lol. I believe after this chapter we will see more of Azriel and reader interactions. I think. Idk. maybe. I'm a daydreamer not a writer so if you see any mistakes that's how I dreamt it. Lol

The following day Lucien had gotten into a fight with Eris, what was at first a screaming match turned physical, as fists flew left and right. Both males stubborn in their decision, Lucien adamant that he already had planned to run away with you to the Spring Court and Eris tried to explain that a life on the run was no life at all. He promised Lucien you’d be well taken care of and that you’d be a wonderful High Lady when the time came. “No! I’d rather die than watch her marry you.” Lucien roared, angering his brother even more. “We will leave in two days' time and you will not seek us out.” Two days. Eris had two days to figure out how to make you stay.

If Eris was to be the next High Lord he’d have to do dishonorable things to get what he wanted. This was the first of many. “Gods forgive me for what I'm about to do,” he whispered to himself as he mixed the sex pollen into the cake batter. He placed the round tins in the oven, just like his mother had shown him many times before. Once the cake was frosted and decorated he hand delivered it to an old friend he hadn’t seen in a long while.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once again Azriel watched as you walked away, a lone shadow ordered to follow and keep you safe trailing behind you. Shame filled his guilty heart. He had never acted this way before, not with Mor or Elain or any other female he had in his bed. It was foolish to judge you when he’s had more than enough partners in the 500 plus years he’s been alive.

Was he going to apologize by fetching you contraceptive tea from The Night Court, so you could sleep with someone else, while he pinned after you?

Yes. Yes he was, and he certainly wasn't thrilled about it.

The following morning you stumbled upon a small box on the front steps of your cottage; adorned in navy wrapping paper and secured with a golden bow. A small note was attached along with a violet flower, its stem carrying bulb-like flower buds waiting to bloom and berries as black as the midnight sky. You recognized the plant as Nightshade.

My Queen of Death,

I hope you’ll find it in your heart to forgive my ignorance. I'm ashamed that I've allowed my jealousy to transpire into hurtful words. Words that no female should ever hear and I truly apologize for judging your actions when my own are not very admirable. I realize that actions speak louder than words and I aim to show you just how sorry I am.

Yours, Azriel

A small smile pulled at your lips as you unraveled the bow and looked inside the box. Three jars of finely crushed herbs, each labeled individually accompanied by a beautifully crafted infuser were neatly placed within the box. Along with healing salves for your wounds, and seeds to grow your own Nightshade.

“What is that Fawn?” you didn’t hear as Eris winnowed to the cottage, his glare immediately finding the gift box in your hands. You had two options: lie and say it's just tea from a merchant or tell the truth and enrage the future heir. You were no coward, “It’s contraceptive tea from The Night Court,” you declared with not a hint of hesitation. Eris clenched his hands in a fist, taming the lingering flame that threatened to burst free in his rage. His nostrils flared in distaste for your actions. You knew the plan was to pretend to marry Eris and produce an heir, granting his fathers wishes. Somewhere along the way those pretend lies blurred into truth, at least for Eris.

“Who did you get the tea from?” he asked, deeply inhaling the air around him, scenting for another male. Thank the Gods you had glamoured your scent, “My friend gifted it to me.”

“You don’t have friends, I need a name now!” He seethed, clenching his jaw in anger.

You scowled at him, turning your back to him with the gift in your hands, heading back into the cottage. When he suddenly reached over, snatching the note from your hand.

“Hey!”

“My Queen?” He questions, reading over the note in a mocking tone and a furrowed brow, “your Azriel?” Eris smugly chuckles, "My Gods he really does know how to work the females doesn’t he? He doesn’t want to be your friend Fawn, he just wants to fuck you. I bet that's the reason he got jealous wasn't it?” He states, crumbling the note in his fist and setting it on fire with his magic. When he opens his fist again a small amount of ash floats to the ground.

Eris had done what he always does. Place doubt in your mind that no one would ever want you more than a fuck buddy and no one has ever been friends with a Death God. The others were locked away in the prison, the weavers cottage, and the lake. Soon enough the other High Lords would come to know of you and your powers and lock you away like the rest.

“You're right, but I still want the tea.”

Eris stalks closer, taking the gift from your hands, “I’ll get you some new tea. This one probably has sex pollen in it. You can never trust the males of The Night Court. I’ve already told you, they share their females. And you're too precious to share.”

Eris throws the box over this shoulder, setting it aflame before it even hits the ground.

He wraps his arm around your shoulder, walking you inside the cottage, “Mother requests you at the Forest House. She wants you to wear a dress to Helion's celebration.”

~~~~

Azriel thought about your last words to him and it hurt him to admit you were right. No one had ever loved him. At least not as deeply as your love for Lucien. He wondered what your love would feel like. Would it be as fierce as you were, with power surging through your veins? Were you a hopeless romantic where you’d hold his hand and kiss him in the middle of the street on the rainiest day of the year? With how he was acting, that idea seemed so far off. So far each encounter with you was met with his illyrian ways of being a territorial, possessive, jealous male. He was man enough to admit he was jealous, Lucien had a piece of your heart, if not now then before. He had no right to be jealous, he was sleeping with Elain afterall. A situation he needed to end once and for all.

His curiosity was heavy enough to seek out the male and question the depths of the relationship. Not long after he landed back in Velaris, he found himself knocking on Lucien's apartment door, hoping to catch up.

Lucien opened the door and he immediately regretted it. He wasn’t exactly fond of the illyrian who had been sleeping with his mate. Knowing very well Azriel’s appetite for beautiful females. He’d figure once he grew bored of Elain he’d find another female to bed and another and another, leaving those poor females a shell of their former selves. Lucien had no patience for small talk and he wasn't exactly interested in what the shadowsinger had to say, “whatever it is, I don’t care.” Lucien moved to close the door in Azriel’s face, unamused with the sudden visit.

“Wait!” Azriel pleaded, hand splayed over the door that was about to close on him. “I’m not here to talk about Elain, I’m ending it with her today. I’m here to talk about Khaos.” Lucien sighed, letting the shadowsinger enter his apartment. “Is she safe?” Lucien's worried eyes scanned Azriel for any hint of deception. “Yeah, she's safe, I just wanted to know how she was with you and now Eris. More importantly, what happened between you two? ”

Azriel walked over to Lucien's couch, Mid bend to make himself comfortable, “don’t sit. I don’t plan to entertain you,” Lucien spat, crossing his arms over his chest. Azriel let the weight of his body plop down on the couch, arms stretched wide across the back cushion. His unwavering stare indicating he would get the answers to his questions. Lucien gritted his teeth in annoyance, “ I’m not telling you shit. What happened between us, remains between us.”

Azriel nodded, understanding his hesitancy to give any details regarding a former lover, “It’s just that I’d like to get to know her bett-”

“Haven’t you had your fill?" Lucien interrupted with a scowl, “must you take every female that I love?” He scoffed. “You don’t even deserve to breathe the same air as her.”

There it was, his opening. Exactly what he was hoping for. Azriel didn’t hesitate in prodding further.

“If you loved her, why did you leave?”

Lucien shook his head, running his hand through his long locks, “No, not past tense. I still do. I’ll always…” Lucien swallowed, he couldn’t finish that sentence, it hurt too much. Azriel narrowed his eyes, Gods, he still loved you he thought to himself. He knew his next words would reopen a healed wound, but he needed more. “You love her so much you let Eris fuck her too.” Azriel internally flinched at how tasteless the statement was.

Lucien winced at the Shadowsingers clear attempt to rile him up, those crude words grating against his heart, “Get out!”

Azriel smirked and threw his mud covered boots on top of the coffee table, rattling the few cups that lingered. Crossing his legs at the ankle, “the faster you tell me what I want to know, the faster I'll leave.”

Lucien rubbed the space between his brows and let out an annoyed groan. His gaze fixed on a burgundy cloak that was thrown over an armchair. A cloak that once belonged to you, after all these years he still held onto it. Lucien's eyes glazed over in sadness as he recalled the reason he left, “after my father wished for Eris to court her, I tried to take her away to The Spring Court so we could be together. I went to our friend Jesminda's house to say my goodbyes. She invited me in for cake and tea, one thing led to another and I made the biggest mistake of my life. I couldn't tell her, so I left for Spring alone. ”

“You cheated on her?” Azriel asked.

Lucien nodded, clearing his throat from the knot of emotion that threatened to break free.

“You’re a fucking coward,” Azriel glared as he stalked towards the door, “she thinks the world of you and you couldn’t even tell her of your betrayal.”

He opened the door to the apartment, leaving Lucien to sulk in misery,

“You said I don't deserve her, but it’s you who doesn't deserve a place in her heart. I’ll make sure she knows of your cowardice and infidelity.”

Azriel slammed the door behind him and as he walked away he heard the cries of a wounded fox, shattered to pieces by a guilty conscience.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You stood in front of a full length mirror, its reflection one you didn't recognize. Your eyes lacked the stars that once circled your pupils, your once moon like orb was no longer crisp and bright. No longer did you look like a God that brought blood and gore to those who deserved a painful death. How did the Goddess of Life succumb to a female with nowhere to go but beside her betrothed. To obey his every wish with a smile on your face. Only speak when spoken to and never voice the thoughts that lingered beyond those of dresses and motherhood.

Was your life to be on your back while Eris spilled his seed inside you, producing heir after heir until your very womb decayed. “Aos? Which color would you like the dress?” you shook your head, riding yourself from your detached thoughts. You met the eyes of Auren through the mirror, a seamstress tasked with measuring you for Helion’s Celebration. “Blue would look lovely, Thank you Auren.”

“The Prince is wearing a deep cadmium red, it be wise to match with the future heir.” Auren explained as she struggled to wrap the measuring tape around your waist, placing her finger against your body, noting the inch at which her finger fit snugly against your skin. “Make it a royal blue Auren, it reminds me of home.”

Her heavy breathing took you out of your thoughts and your eyes widened at her swollen belly, the reason for her struggle to reach around you. “Oh Auren, I didn’t realize. It’s not polite to comment-”

“It’s alright really, just got harder to bend and move,” she laughed, rubbing her round stomach soothingly. You beamed as she cradled the life that was growing inside her. A warmth so familiar bloomed inside you. You knew all too well the reason pregnancy was difficult in the fae lands, ever since you fell from the sky procreation had severely diminished. Not forgotten or misplaced just pointless in a cruel world. You couldn't say you had nothing to do with it, you had everything to do with creation. So it was quite a shock to see Auren pregnant, “a miracle really. Congratulations Auren, you make a wonderful mother.”

“It’s always been a dream of mine. Thank the Gods for this fertility tea.” She took a sip from her cup and as she set it down you glanced inside, “whole nuts?” you questioned with a raised eyebrow. “Mhmm, it tastes gritty when they’re crushed down to a powder.” She grimaced as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Gritty?”

Weekly dinners with the Vanserras, you were served tea.

It couldn’t be.

It was.

You paled.

~~~~~~~

At dinner everyone moved around you carrying their conversations like you weren’t slowly dying inside. Like you were invisible. You sat unmoving, hands clasped within your lap as you burned a hole into the mug that accompanied your dessert. How long had you been drinking that tea? How long were you going to pretend to be Eris' lover? How long were you going to put on this mask of compliance and docility, when in reality you could rip the flesh from their bones with a blink of an eye. Slaughter each and every member of the Vanserras without a single ounce of remorse.

The more you dwelled on it the more plausible it seemed. Yes, you’d remove them all at once with the snap of your finger. Each death exactly the same as the next, painful in the way they’ve caused pain to others. No, tortuous. Starting with the slow removal of each fingernail, pulled directly from the nailbed followed by severing each finger until nothing remained of their hands but a bloody useless paw. You wouldn't stop there. Next you’d remove their feet below the ankles, better yet, below the knee, so that to move they'd need to drag their meat sack of bones across all the painful textures of the land. Each and every pull against the earth would reopen thin healed skin, leaving trails of crimson blood mixed with pus and torn flesh.

The cries of a once feared family would bring their citizens out only to shriek, and gasp in horror at the sight of the disfigured thing. As a mercy you’d allow them to keep their eyes and ears so they’d hear each vulgar degradation aimed at how mutilated and disgusting they looked, visualize the moment they made someone so ill all that could be done was vomit the contents of their stomach. No one would pin it on Eris if he was among the deformed. Though you weren’t so cruel, they did help you somewhat. Provide you with shelter, food, all the means that you’ve needed to survive thus far. Asphyxiation would be painless, you smirked.

Eris placed a panicked hand to the base of his throat, glancing around the table at his family; he noticed their glossy widened eyes. Their mouths hung open in a silent scream, opening and closing like a fish out of water, gasping for a breath of air. Utensils clattered to the ground as Lord Beron attempted to stand only to stumble clenching the table cloth for fear of falling. Eris’ amber gaze landed on your morbid stare. Eyes cloudy and pale with the promise of death in their unfocused glare.

The room spun round and round although he remained seated, knuckles white from gripping the wooden table. He felt himself slowly losing consciousness, the lack of oxygen to his brain pulling him under, a swipe across his nose made him nearly pass out as he felt blood drip down, coating his lips. Eris chanced one last look into the soul of beautiful death and found your lifeless eyes already claiming his beating heart.

With a last ditch effort to reclaim his soul he struggled through the pounding inside his head. Placing a trembling hand against your thigh, conjuring the remaining power he had into a lick of flame. Burning against your thigh brought your thoughts back to dinner. Those heterochromia eyes morphed into the vibrant colors of the galaxy with a single blink. The sharp inhale of air surrounded the table as your mind released them from the claws of death's grip. “Must be the tea,” you challenged, voice dripping with insolence as your cold eyes met those of Lord Beron. “We’ve been poisoned!” Eris's younger brother Janus reported, pouring out his cup of tea showcasing the darkened goop that splattered to the ground. Eris’ gaze traveled from the cup to you and back again. A look of shock and hurt in the way he studied your indifference. Once everyone cleared the dinner table, Lord Beron ordered the guards to sweep the halls for a breach and check the tea imports for tampering.

~~~~~

You made your way to your bed chambers when a rough hand tightly gripped your arm; shoving you against the stone walls with enough force to knock the sense out of you. Lord Beron lowered his mouth to your ear so no one else could hear his vile words. “If I have to chain your legs apart and force him on you, so be it! But you will let Eris fuck a babe into your pathetic cunt!” He snarled, voice dripping with the rot that plagued his evil soul. You stared at the grip he had on your arm, a bruise in the shape of fingertips already forming around your bicep.

“Threaten me all you want-"

The back of Lord Berons palm landed across your cheek with an audible slap, whipping your face so hard you stumbled to the floor. Your fingertips sparked with electric current, adrenaline running through you, tempting you to act, to destroy everyone that got in your way. And Lord Beron would be the first to witness your fury. Defiantly, you stood to meet his stare, chin held high with pride, “I bow to no High Lord.”

Lord Beron didn’t bother to strike you as he signaled for a guard to escort you below. Where they kept their murderers, thieves, and those that needed a reminder of who their High Lord was. Lord Beron didn’t know how powerful you were since you kept most of your magic to yourself and those close to you, so it came as a shock when a stainless steel collar dipped in faebane was locked around your neck, made to look like a simple necklace with the only key belonging to High Lord Beron.

You were dragged down the cold halls farther than you knew existed, down a spiral of stone steps, passed the cells that housed the criminals of Autumn and last through a hidden wall disguised as an unassuming bookcase. Your heart rate spiked as you realized this area was one you had never seen before and it worried you that maybe that was the point. You tried to summon your magic despite the collar releasing its poison onto your skin, but with nowhere to release the rage, the opposite happened. Your power turned to its host and acted like a sedative, pulling you into a sleep-like state.

In your near-unconsciousness you didn’t feel the rough hands of a guard help himself to the curves of your body, groping your breasts and grabbing your ass before he kneeled at your feet, shackling your legs apart just as Lord Beron promised. The guards were instructed to not penetrate you but that didn’t stop them from standing around your cell to gawk and fist their needy cocks to the sight of your spread pussy.

~~~~~~~~~

Azriel breathed a sigh of relief as he entered his room. A welcoming comfort no one could grant him, except perhaps you.

He neared his four poster bed, large enough for his wings and a lover or two. Just as he was about to throw himself onto its pillowy top a sweet scent engulfed him. Too sweet for his liking and definitely not your scent. As he looked to the illuminated light escaping the bottom of the bathing room; Elain emerged from a cloud of steam, casting her in a hazy glow. Azriels eyes trailed the length of her nude body, drops of water tracking down her thin legs.

Azriel couldn't deny what a beautiful female she was, both inside and out. He was lucky to have been with her no matter how short their fling was about to be. What Elain assumed was lust in Azriels eyes was actually reflection. Seeing her bare before him reminded him of what she offered time and time again. Her physical body. He knew that's not all she had to offer, deep down she had goals to be met and hobbies that he didn't understand, but physical intimacy is what she offered to him.

Azriel couldn't believe he had gotten to the point where sex was no longer enough. He wanted more. He wanted it all. He wanted that body, mind and spirit love. A soul connection so deep not even death would be able to pry his heart away. He felt it in his bones that that connection was not with Elain, so he’d decided now was as good a time as any, to let her go.

Without another glance Azriel walked to his closet, which held an assortment of her clothes. He pulled out her favorite pink robe, and draped it over her shoulders. Elain took the hint and tied the robe around her body at the waist, covering her completely. The act alone brought her to tears as his rejection flooded her with shame and embarrassment.

“Who is she?” Elain muttered, crossing her arms over her stomach in an attempt to hold herself together. Azriel shook his head, a soft sigh leaving his lips.

“Did you sleep with her?”

“No. I wouldn't do that to her - to you,” he shook his head, “I wouldn't do that to you.”

“Do you want to sleep with her?” Elain asked with a wobble in her throat, not sure if she could handle his answer.

Azriel turned his back on Elain and placed his hands on his hips. A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he hung his head. Yes, he did want to bed you, but more than anything he wanted to hear the sound of your soft breathing as you slept nestled against his chest. He wanted to trace the beauty marks along your back and see how many constellations adorned your soft skin.

“Azriel!”

“Yes! Is that what you wanted to hear? He snapped.

“NO! I want to hear that you love me, not that you want to fuck someone else!” Elain sobbed, her tears freely flowing down her cheeks. “It’s her isn't it? The one you’ve been looking for all these years? The female you said I shouldn't worry about?” Elain continued to wipe away her tears.

“I never meant to hurt you, and for that I’m sorry. If there's a chance that she’s who's destined for me then I have to explore that. You know how much I want what my brothers have, that special someone made for me!” Azriel sat on the edge of the bed, running his hands through his wavy hair.

“I thought I was made for you Az?”

A scoff leaves Azriels lips, “you were made for Lucien, he's your mate Elain, not me.”

Elains stunned silent. The truth of his words piercing her fragile heart, “but I chose you.”

“And I’m choosing her.”

“Azriel, she's a Death God,” she pleads, kneeling in front of him with her hands on his knees, “she’s threatened Velaris and Rhys hates her. You met her one time as a child. You don’t know her!” she yelled, hurt laced in her words as she tried to make sense of his actions.

“I want to get to know her!” Azriel yelled back, standing abruptly from his position on the bed, making Elain stumble slightly, catching herself with her palms on the floor.

“I’m sorry, this thing between us. It was never –”

Azriels shadows interrupt him as they swarm the room, darting erratically from side to side in alarm. Goosebumps form along his arms as they whisper in his ear, ‘In trouble, hurry.’ Azriel didn't need to ask who was in trouble. Somehow he could feel your despair in the pit of his stomach. You needed him and he would go to you. However far you were, he would walk miles to reach you, fly through the toughest storms to be by your side. Risk his own life if it meant you’d survive to see another day. Without another word he raced out of the house, leaving a broken hearted Elain to pick up the pieces of her fractured heart. He couldn’t be there for her any longer, not when his heart was calling out for you.

A/n: I’ve had a crazy week with my daughter being sick and planning her birthday party. I expect the next ch to take me some time. As always thank you so much for reading and for your sweet comments.

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