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labellefleur-sauvage · 11 months ago

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Slowly, Lucien turned his head and his gaze found hers. Everything quieted. The house’s inhabitants were gathered around Lucien, talking about what he could expect, but Elain focused only on the male in front of her. She tried to convey her apology and sorrow and want with her eyes, frozen with indecision and unable to say what she wanted.

Lucien stared back at her, and while she could so clearly see his own sadness and longing reflected in his brilliant russet eye, he gave her a small, slow bow and turned away. Elain’s stomach dropped. He was going to leave her, and Elain would be stuck in this house like a neglected piece of furniture, without the one being who had a hope of truly understanding and listening to her. She took a half step down the stairs at the same time Lucien turned to Rhys and nodded his head…

“Wait!”

...

"Take me with you."

OR: A divergent ACOTAR fic, in which Elain goes with Lucien to find Vassa during ACOWAR.

For the amazingly talented @stickyelectrons for the 2023 Secret Santa Gift Exchange! When asked about some of their favorite Elucien moments, stickyelectrons pointed out the scene where Elain and Lucien have their little barely moment before he leaves for the Continent from ACOWAR as one they particularly enjoyed for the tension and longing. I had a great time getting to know you and really hope you enjoy this first chapter!

Thank you for everyone involved at @acotargiftexchange for making this such a fun event!

Read on AO3

XXX

Everything was blank.

The woman blinked her eyes for what might have been the first or thousandth time. Everything was hazy.

Where was she?

She furrowed her eyebrows. The woman looked down at her hands. They were hers, but not. Similar, but not the same.

She stared out the window. Shades of colors she’d never seen before until recently greeted her weary eyes.

She became aware of her body. She was standing. Had she been standing long? It was unnerving, not being aware of herself, her actions.

Weariness overcame her, but she fought the feeling. She couldn’t close her eyes for more than a second. The woman dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands, pinched the transparently thin skin on her wrist. Anything to stay awake.

So she stared.

And stared.

Odd shapes and sights flitted before her unfocused eyes. Beings walked on two feet, like her, but with large, odd protrusions from their backs. Others had pointed ears. They all moved so gracefully, with an unnatural stillness and beauty to them. Is that what she looked like now? The woman’s heart beat erratically against her chest. Don’t think that, don’t think that, don’t think that. Another pinch to her skin rid her of these terrifying thoughts. She still felt a flash of pain from the motion. Surely the others around her didn’t eel such insignificant sensations. Her heartbeat remained, calmer, slower.

The skin on the back of her neck prickled, some primeval warning. Impossibly, the woman moved even less, turning herself into the statue she felt she had become. Sounds floated by her ears: a soft step, the barest creak of a floorboard, the hinges of the door behind her as they moved with the motion of the door. Silence for a moment, then the sounds again, in reverse: hinges, floorboard, step.

She let go of the breath she was purposely holding. Her sigh was soft but the voices from below drowned it out.

“…wrong with her?”

“…not sure… ever been Made… no other females besides Feyre to compare her to…”

Right. Not a woman, a female. Not a human, a fae. A flash of irritation glanced through her, but was quickly gone.

Elain Archeron’s shoulders slipped and she let her eyes relax into an unseeing gaze, her mind blank, until the next time her eyes closed and she was overcome with visions she did not understand.

She spent her days sitting at the window, gazing outside and letting the warmth of the sun soak beneath her skin and into her bones. She was hollow, so it never took long. Everything that used to bring her joy–gardening, new bonnets and ribbons, him–no longer brighten her mood. Thinking of her past life brought nothing to her, except feelings of despair and longing so devastating that she can’t compel her body to move, or her lungs to draw another breath.

So she stopped thinking about before, and she tried in vain to keep her eyes open.

She had a routine: each morning, Nesta–the only constant in either life–crept into her bedroom bearing a tray loaded with food and tea. The first few mornings Nesta had tried to bring Elain to the kitchen to eat her meals, perhaps coax her out of her shocked shell, but Elain barely had the strength to leave her bed, so food was brought to her instead. Her older sister picked out her outfit for the day while Elain stared at her, or stared at her breakfast, then graciously left Elain to eat and get ready. “For your privacy,” Nesta said. They both knew it made no difference, that Elain would perhaps take a bite or two of her food, and artlessly shrug into one of the many dresses that felt looser and looser each day, all for the sake of keeping up appearances, for clinging to the last bits of normalcy they both acutely remembered but knew they will never have again.

Nesta hustled back into Elain’s room after breakfast to fix her hair–Nesta always asked how Elain how she wants her hair done, bless her, like she thought Elain had a preference–before escorting Elain to the same room somewhere in this house they were imprisoned in for her to sit. She took her place at the chair looking outside, letting the sun bask over her alien body, her eyes open but unseeing, willing the heat from above to fill her with life like it used to.

So she sat.

And sat.

But today was different.

She knew when she woke up this morning that something would be different. She didn’t have a dream or vision–she would certainly know if she did–but something called out to her all the same. It was like a bug swarming around her head, an incessant buzzing that wouldn’t go away, soft as it was. It wasn’t until Nesta had escorted her to the sitting room that she realized what it was: a soft, rhythmic beating, not unlike a heart.

Something would happen, that much was clear. So, Elain did what she did every day: she sat, and waited, and waited.

It didn’t take long (or perhaps it did; how was she to know?) before the first change to her routine occurred: she had a visitor. Feyre, good, strong, Feyre was here, and talking to her. Elain remembered the first time when she had seen Feyre like this, after she became like them, and thought her foreign looking, but devastatingly beautiful; soft, yet still more deadly than the bow and arrow she carried and upon which all their lives depended on. Seeing her now, in this light, with different eyes, Elain distantly realized she was even more ethereal, too alluring with her shining hair and hypnotic eyes, her confidence and tenderness. Is this how everyone saw her, or did it take Elain becoming something she hated to realize how magnificent her younger sister truly was?

“I’m back,” Feyre said awkwardly, as if her presence wasn’t obvious.

“I want to go home,” Elain whispered, staring ahead of her outside the window. If anyone can help her, it’s Feyre.

“I know.”

A wild thought that made her chest burn. “He’ll be looking for me.”

“I know.”

“We were supposed to be married next week.”

It wasn’t just her body and life that had been ripped from her, but her future as well. Perhaps that was the worst of it, that everything she’d wanted and worked towards had been stolen from her for no other reason than a few monster’s cruel joke or sick revenge. She had felt very little other than complete apathy lately, but a feeling not unlike anger planted itself firmly behind her lungs and settled there.

Feyre was still speaking, and a man–male–she vaguely recognized took his place next to her sister. Not in a brotherly way, her mind supplied, but in a way that screamed familiarity, intimacy, like them presenting a unified front was expected and rehearsed, based on the easy way he slipped a gentle hand around Feyre’s waist. The male looked at her with kindness and pity, and spoke softly to her, but like everyone else here, it unnerved her. Elain wanted it to stop. No one was listening to her. “I want to go home.”

The beating became louder. Louder. Louder. She didn’t just feel it around her; it was within her. It stayed like that until everyone left, and Elain was alone again, with just her chair, window and the dull ache of dead dreams and wants to keep her company.

Fire everywhere.

A pained, inhuman screeching filled Elain’s sensitive ears. She tried to open her eyes and move her hands to cover her ears but she physically couldn’t, and so she was forced to witness the vision of a woman being consumed by flames.

Elain wondered if her own transformation was like this. No, she thought as she watched in open-mouthed horror as the woman–a queen, Elain realized, as the regal crown atop her head fell off and her fine dress turned to ash on her skin–before her was wreathed in flames. As traumatic as Elain’s baptism was, it was nothing like the immolation before her.

She smelled the woman’s skin burning, a sick, acrid smell that made Elain gag. Any hair the queen had has burned to a crisp. Elain stared at a naked, burning, bleeding, and raging queen, her yells of mingled fury and pain forcing Elain to witness the poor woman’s downfall. She breathed a small sigh of relief when the queen eventually crumpled to the ground and was still.

But it wasn’t over. Where there was once skin and now just charred muscles, ligaments and bones, small bundles erupted from the queen’s smoking and bubbling flesh, growing long and thin, and covered her entire body. Her head shrunk, bones popped and contorted, and a long, narrow protrusion erupted from her mouth. She no longer had hands or legs, but a tail unfurled from her lower back.

And suddenly Elain stared at a large, quaking bird. The queen was still on fire, but where before she was actively burning, now her body simmered and smoldered. The bird squawked softly, and small embers escaped from her beak. She tried to stand, flap her new wings to lift herself off the ground but was unsuccessful.

“The first moments after the transformation are always the most difficult.”

Elain hadn’t realized she wasn’t alone, too obsessed with the horror of a woman burning and being turned into a giant fire bird. She turned her head as much as she was able. A being–she thought it was a man–stared greedily at the queen before him, one corner of its mouth tilted up in a jagged smile. “How beautiful you turned out to be. You’ll be my most prized bird at the lake. Firebird by night, a throneless queen by day.”

Goosebumps erupted over Elain’s skin. The bird queen squawked again, angry this time, and feebly lifted her head, her small black eyes narrowed in hate. The woman’s strength made Elain pause; even after being turned into an abomination, she still had the will to fight.

The being behind her tsked. “None of that, now. You will become accustomed to your new form.” It turned to Elain, and the being grinned, all sharp teeth. “Even you.”

Elain woke early the next morning, and for the first time since she’d been in this house, she rose and dressed herself. She didn’t care what she wore or how she looked. Her feet took her to her usual room but she paused before she glided past. Not here, a small voice in the back of her mind whispered to her. Not today.

So she moved on. She wasn’t sure what else this house contained but soon she was in a library. It had a large window overlooking the town and sea. Woodenly, she sat and waited.

Eventually, Nesta found her, as usual. She offered a quiet good morning and kept a steely eye on her, but otherwise left Elain to herself.

Then, Feyre. Her younger sister, like her older sister, clearly didn’t know how to handle Elain or what to say to her, and so asked awkward, stuttering questions. Their heartbeats always quickened when they were around her, now.

The sound of their heartbeats still wasn’t as unsettling as the sounds from her vision. “I can hear the sea,” Elain offered. “Even at night. Even in my dreams. The ashing sea–and the screams of a bird made of fire.”

Feyre rambled on, talking about a garden that Elain might like to spend time in, but Feyre wasn’t listening. “Will the bird of fire come to sit in the trees and watch me?”

Feyre and Nesta left, their heartbeats uneven. The anger she’d felt before resurfaced. Despite her sister’s concern for her, they werent listening to her. The firebird, their own transformations–they were so clearly linked together. Human women transformed into something other against their wills, at someone else’s behest. Why could no one understand her?

A new heartbeat, loud, steady, strong. The door behind her creaked open, and a voice that tempered her frustration spoke. “You–you left your room.”

The voice, male, was barely familiar, but it wrapped around Elain’s body like a warm hug. Her chest tightened with an unknown sense of awareness. She’d never felt anything like it before, and it unnerved her. Elain didn’t answer, and the visitor took it as an invitation. “Is there anything I can get you?”

The male asked if he can help himself to tea (why not, Elain thought dryly, it was wasted on herself), then was quiet as he tried to keep a steady hand to pour his drink. He was nervous but he stayed and even dared to sit in Nesta’s chair. The male asked if Elain would like a biscuit.

Perhaps it was the way the male spoke to her: casual, unbothered, even though he was clearly tense around her, based on the way his heart beat faster than a horse at a full gallop. His nerves were…oddly endearing, though she wanted nothing more than to hate the being next to her.

Elain turned her head and met the gaze of her mate.

She was loath to admit it–the anger behind her lungs flared at seeing him again, the first time since that night–but he was handsome. If he were human, the scars on the side of his face and his odd golden mechanical eye would have been grotesque. With his lean face, with his brown skin and brilliant red hair, he was a picture of what she’d always imagined a fae would be: otherworldly, beautiful, and cruel.

He said his name was Lucien, seventh son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court, which meant nothing to her. What did matter to her is what this male had done to her. “You were in Hybern.”

“Yes.”

“You betrayed us.”

Guilt flashed through his one remaining eye and it filled Elain with righteousness. She didn’t let up, though. “I was to be married in a few days.”

His face flushed. She could still read guilt in his eyes, but more than that, rage simmered in the lines of his face, in the way he held himself. “I know. I’m sorry.”

She blinked. She’d meant to taunt him, and had expected a cool aloofness, or a lack of guilt at his previous actions. His response to his deeds in Hybern, and the even more robust reaction to Elain’s broken engagement, seemed almost…human-like. Were all fae like this? Less mercurial, cruel and arrogant as she’d been taught and what she’d experienced, but capable of feeling pain and regret and passion?

It was a dizzying thought. Elain looked away, and extended an olive branch. “I can hear your heart.”

At the moment, she could do much more than hear his heart: she felt it beating inside her chest, keeping pace in perfect synchronicity with her own. His emotions rippled throughout her body, and a warmth she hadn’t felt for so long began in her chest and led back to the weary male sitting across from her.

If anyone was to understand her, it would be him.

“When I sleep, I can hear your heart beating through the stone. Can you hear mine?”

His face dropped, and Elain knew the words that will leave his lips before he spoke them. “No, lady. I cannot.”

The warmth in her chest fled, and she was as cold as she’s ever been. “No one ever does. No one ever looked–not really.”

Lucien left soon after. She moved into a new residence with Nesta later that day, with a garden out back. A different male, Azriel, sat with her outside sometimes, under the guise of keeping her company but she knew it’s only someone providing yet another pair of eyes to watch Elain.

She did not see Lucien for some time, but she still faintly heard his heart.

Time passed, and bit by bit, Elain felt better. She spent more time outside in the garden, sometimes alone, sometimes with a minder. She ate most of her meals downstairs in the kitchen or at the dining room table with whoever was staying in the house. It wasn’t back to normal, but it was something.

Eventually, a healer came to inspect her, and discovered what Elain already knew: that there was nothing wrong with her. She even had an awkward tea meeting with Lucien (and her nosy sisters and Feyre’s equally nosy friends). At one point, there was a tug from within her, unlike anything she’d ever felt. A tug, Lucien explained guiltily, on their mating bond. He apologized for unsettling her, but although the feeling was strange, she did not hate it.

These were all new experiences for her. The only constant in her life were her visions.

There were more now: ravens, and young hands turning old unnaturally fast, and a black box. Usually, they were one-off visions.

But she made frequent reappearances. Elain heard the former queen turned into a firebird crying out in anger and pain and frustration, and saw the woman transform from bird to human to bird again and again and again. She didn’t know the woman, but Elain felt a kinship with her: each somewhat dead, in their own way, and both different and changed.

It finally came to a head when Azriel–the quiet one, the intense one, the one who she could perhaps envision liking if he had some of the sunshine and light she so desperately craved–put a name to her affliction: Seer. From there, information flowed readily, and everyone finally listened: the sixth mortal queen–Vassa–cursed, and kept at a lake by some sorcerer with other women turned into birds. Vassa might have an army, everyone around her seemed to think, that should they break whatever curse that lay over her, she’d be inclined to lend her support to war against Hybern. They squabbled amongst themselves as to who should go. Elain felt a heavy gaze on her, and a heartbeat echoed in her head.

“I’ll go.”

Elain didn’t know Lucien well enough to form an opinion of him; in fact, everything she knew about the male could be considered ill-informed at best, and traitorous at worst. He seemed respectable and loyal, and he helped Feyre escape from the Spring Court, but he was still a large reason why Elain suffered so much now.

So why did her heart stutter ever so slightly when the male whom the Cauldron decided was her mate announce he would leave them–leave her–to find the firebird queen Elain has been dreaming about?

Lucien was resigned, his lean face even flashing with excitement when it was pointed out that his journey would be very dangerous. Lucien stated he wanted to leave tomorrow, and Rhys barked orders and commands to his crew as they all dispersed, one by one.

Then it was just the two of them. Unlike every other time they’d been together, now they were truly alone.

Lucien broke their silence “I’ve never been to the continent. Even if I wanted to go, my father…” Lucien chuckled wryly. “Well, perhaps it’s not under ideal circumstances, but it’s still an adventure. Have you ever been?”

Elain didn’t answer, and stared down at the embroidery on a pillow on the couch she was sitting on. She saw Lucien deflate out of the corner of her eye. “I ask too much,” he said blankly, rising to stand. “Take care, lady.”

“No!” Elain looked towards Lucien quickly. His eyebrows raised, and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Er, no, I’ve never been. Though I hear they have such wonderful tulip fields. My father was going to take me, before…”

Silence again. “If I’m able,” Lucien said slowly, “I’ll try to bring back some flowers. Do you have a favorite color?”

Despite herself, the corners of Elain’s mouth tipped upward into the barest glance of a smile. “Yellow.”

Lucien mirrored her and gingerly sat on the other end of the couch. “Yellow it is.” A pause. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

Take me with you. The thought came out of nowhere, and Elain startled herself. The idea was absolutely ludicrous. Along with it undoubtedly being dangerous, Nesta and Feyre would rather chain her to this couch than let Elain out of the house or be alone with Lucien for more than five minutes. If Elain suggested both, she’s sure her sisters would summon a host of healers to see if she had hit her head.

But Lucien was getting to experience something she’d always wanted, and he described it as an adventure. How often, after their family had lost its fortune, had Elain daydreamed of being swept away by a handsome prince or lord and journeying across foreign lands to their new home? Lucien was the son of a High Lord, so practically the same thing, good looking, especially when he smiled, and his task ahead was certainly a journey…

But this was the male who was responsible for ruining her life, in more ways than one. She was supposed to be married just a short time ago, Elain thought incredulously, and now she was debating asking Feyre’s traitorous friend to steal her away on what could very well be a one way trip.

“I wish to be alone,” she answered frostily, staring straight ahead of her.

“I’m sorry–”

“Don’t worry about getting me flowers, or anything for that matter. I don’t want anything from you.”

Lucien’s heartbeat, which had been beating furiously the entire time they were talking, stopped. He stood quickly, uttered a quiet, “Lady,” then departed without looking back.

Elain remained on the couch, blinking to keep the tears away and only needed to wipe her damp cheeks once.

Sleep hadn’t come easy to her since the night her life was destroyed, but Elain barely slept after refusing Lucien. She sat up in bed the next morning, biting her lip.

Lucien had apologized for his previous actions, been kind and gentle to her, and was at least making attempts to get to know her, even if it was for purely selfish reasons. Andnow he was leaving to go to the Continent, somewhere she’d always wanted to go, to find the firebird she’d been seeing behind her eyelids for months. It wasn’t fair. Elain clenched the bedsheets. While Lucien was off helping to save the world, Elain would be stuck in this damn house, feeling like an outsider looking in, unsure of who she was and what she was doing. They were her visions; surely Elain should accompany Lucien in traversing the Continent for this special queen.

Why couldn’t she go with?

Yes, Elain thought, her sluggish thoughts coming quick now. She should obviously go with Lucien to the exotic Continent, ripe with far-flung sights and sounds and wonders, to save this mortal queen. Anything to get out of this oppressive house and go somewhere new.

She wanted to contribute, of course, but the allure of travel, of leaving this mansion and the pitying gazes and attitudes of everyone in it, was too great to ignore. It wasn’t a want: it was a need, the need to find herself in this new body and world she now inhabited. How could she hope to live if she couldn’t find something worth living for?

She needed to find her sisters, Elain thought, quickly throwing on a robe, before he left. Quietly walking down the hall as fast as she dared, she turned the corner to land at the top of the stairs.

Elain gave a small sigh of relief. Lucien was still here, his long, amber hair in a braid that showed off his sharp jaw, cheekbones and scared flesh. Numerous weapons littered his body, from a sword across his back to daggers to a bow and arrow that surely Feyre would love to get her hands on. He looked ready and determined.

“Wait!”

Everyone turned to stare at Elain, standing in just her thin robe at the top of the stairs. The baby hairs around her face stuck to her sweaty skin but sje straightened her back all the same. Elain stared at Lucien, who looked back at her, his eye wide.

“Elain?” Nesta asked worriedly, taking the stairs two at a time to stand at her side. “Elain, dear, what’s wrong? Should you be out of bed? You’re warm–”

“Take me with you.” Elain ignored everyone’s faces, their eyes comically large and mouths gaping, and shook Nesta’s hands from her arms. Taking a deep breath, Elain addressed only Lucien. “I want to go with you.”

“Absolutely not,” Nesta snarled, pushing Elain behind her and throwing herself in front of her. “You’re staying a Continent’s worth of distance away from him!”

“And who are you to stop me?” Elain replied, stepping back in front of her older sister and taking a step down the stairs. “I’m not a prisoner here–”

“It’s not what you want–”

“Don’t tell me what I want!” Elain rarely argued with Nesta, even when they were human, but this release of the anger and frustration that had been building inside her felt good.

“And it’s dangerous!” Elain couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen such anger in Nesta’s gray eyes. For a split second Elain swore a lick of flame gathered in her stormy pupils. “You’ve never had to handle a weapon or fight, you’ve barely exchanged more than a dozen words with anyone, and now you want to join him on an unbelievably dangerous mission to find this bird queen imprisoned by a death lord?” Nesta gripped her head in her hands. “Explain to me how any of that makes sense? What has gotten into you?”

Elain didn’t know how to explain the pull she felt towards Lucien, or why she needed to join him on this mission. “Lucien will keep me safe,” Elain answered instead.

“Of course I will.” Lucien’s voice was strong, his eye no longer clouded with shock, at the same time Nesta muttered, “I bet he will.” The two glared at each other, and if Elain weren’t so desperate, she would find the staring match between her older sister and mate funny.

Nesta turned back to Elain, and the anger in her eyes had now filled with confusion and fear. “Elain,” she whispered imploringly, “please. You’re not strong enough–”

“I can be!”

“One day, yes, you may be.” Nesta took her hand, her skin clammy. “But you’re not strong enough now, in any sense of the word. You’re still recovering. Please, don’t do this to yourself. Don’t do this to me.”

Elain’s heart, already broken so many times recently, cracked again. She cradled Nesta’s hands in her own. “I think getting out of this house will help me.” She smiled wryly. “I’ve always wanted to go to the Continent. This way I don’t have to drag you along with me.”

Nesta shook her head. “No,” she said firmly. “I don’t believe he didn’t cast a curse on you or something.” Nesta turned to Feyre at the bottom of the steps, who was looking between Elain and Lucien with a curious look on her face. “Feyre, tell Elain this is preposterous.”

“How do you think you could help Lucien?” Feyre asked instead.

“My visions,” Elain answered quickly, turning away from a shocked Nesta to talk to her younger sister. “If I have any further visions of the firebird queen or this death lord, that may help us alter our plan, or may save us if there’s any trouble.”

“Nesta is right. You don’t know how to hold a dagger or sword, or shoot a bow and arrow.”

“I can learn,” Elain said confidently, even while Feyre raised a single eyebrow. “Er, perhaps just the basics,” Elain amended. “And it would be more convincing if a pair of fae is traveling together, rather than just one. Distant family members on vacation, or something.”

Silence. Elain swallowed, looking around. Nearly everyone–Cassian, Azriel, Morrigan–shared shocked and perplexed expressions, torn between wanting to be anywhere else in the world but unable to look away from the dramatic wreck that was the Archeron sisters’ fight. Rhys had the same contemplative look on his face as Feyre.

And Lucien…while no longer surprised, his face and body were tense. His russet eye darted between Feyre and herself.

Feyre nodded her head. “You’ll be a liability to Lucien while you’re together,” she said, not unkindly. “He’ll have to protect not just himself, but you as well. You may be slightly more inconspicuous traveling together, but it will be difficult: you won’t be sleeping in beds, you’ll rarely have a warm meal, and there will be none of the usual comforts you’re used to. Your visions will certainly be useful, though.” She turned to Lucien. “Lucien, would you agree to having Elain go with you?”

Lucien could say no, Elain thought. If he were smart and in his right mind, he would have already said that by now. He could reason that it was too dangerous to bring her along (true); that she would only slow him down (true); that they’ve only exchanged a few sentences between themselves in which they tolerated each other, and this type of situation was not the time to get to know each other (especially true).

But as Lucien lifted his head to look at Elain, she focused on his heartbeat. It was violently beating before, hammering against his chest, but it had slowed down and evened out. Steady and calm. Elain knew his answer before he opened his mouth. “Yes, “ Lucien said loudly and clearly. “Yes, she can come.”

Elain didn’t pay attention to Nesta screaming at Feyre, or Feyre’s responding argument. The corners of Lucien’s mouth barely turned up, and he bowed his head towards Elain.

“Come.” Feyre laid a gentle but firm hand on Elain’s elbow and guided her back to her room. “Rhys will work out a new plan with Lucien. He was planning on roughing it through the wilderness when it was just him, but if you’re with him…” Feyre shot her a glance. “Well, that may need to be adjusted.”

Feyre practically shoved Elain inside her bedroom and locked the door behind her. “I don’t believe Lucien did anything to you, but you’re not under a spell, right?”

Elain scoffed. “No. I’m not even sure what magic Lucien has, but I know he’d never do that to me.”

“He wouldn’t, but I wanted to make sure.” Feyre let out a deep breath and leaned against the door. “Why do you really want to go?”

Elain worried her bottom lip. “I wasn’t lying when I said getting out of this house would do me good.”

“You’re more than welcome to venture around Velaris whenever you want.”

“But not without a chaperone,” Elain shot back. “I need to be free, without you or Nesta or anyone breathing down my back. I know you’re worried about me,” Elain said when she saw Feyre about to speak, “but I need this.”

Feyre stared at her, her gaze unwavering for so long Elain squirmed from the scrutiny. “You know, Lucien had the same reaction as Nesta did just now when he learned that I voluntarily stayed in the Night Court with Rhys.” Feyre smiled fondly. “He couldn’t believe it. Thought Rhys had brainwashed me or was forcing me to stay with him.” The smile slid from her face. “What we said to each other that day… Rhys thinks it extremely ironic that Lucien is now on the receiving end of such a similar situation.”

“Why did you stay?”

Feyre grinned. “The same reason, I think, that you feel the need to join Lucien on this journey: you need to leave to find yourself, and where you belong. Being with someone you have a connection with, whether you choose to act on that or not…it’s highly tempting, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know if I want him like that. After Grayson…”

“You never needed Grayson or anyone else to ever be complete.”

Elain nodded. “If I have any opportunity to get away from this house, away from everyone…”

“You need to take it.” Feyre cocked her head and grinned. “Luckily, Lucien isn’t exactly hard on the eyes, is he?”

Elain spluttered but Feyre spared her from answering. “Come on,” she laughed. “I’ll help you pack.”

They managed to find a few pairs of Illyrian leathers that fit her, as well as various tops and cloaks in muted shades. Feyre tossed a pair of soft, brown knee high boots to Elain when she was changed. “You can’t take any more than that.” Feyre gave Elain an appraising look from head to toe when she was changed, then nodded in approval. She handed Elain her pack. “Hold that, carry it. How does it feel?”

Elain had watched Feyre pack more clothes, small garments and gear than she thought she could handle, but the bag was surprisingly light in her arms. “I thought it’d be heavier.”

“Fae strength took a while to adjust to, more than being able to hear and see everything. I broke quite a few plates and cups after I was changed. Come on, let’s get everything else.”

Next they went to the weapons room. Elain gasped. The room was filled with more weapons than she’d ever glimpsed in the Nolan estate: swords of all different sizes, spears, knives and daggers and serrated blades, maces, spiked balls on chain, bows, crossbows, even something that looked like a trident. Feyre eyed her up, then went to a rack holding spears of different lengths. “A spear would probably be the easiest weapon for you to handle. This one isn’t too long or heavy. Just point and poke.”

“I know how spears work,” Elain replied with a roll of her eyes.

“Never hurts to remind you. And whatever you do, don’t stab Lucien. I know how he can be, so try to resist aiming your spear at him when he gets sarcastic.”

Feyre also handed Elain some of the smallest knives she had ever seen–”These are no bigger than the pairing knives we had back in our home!” “Good, then you shouldn’t have any problems with them!”–then they made their way back to the foyer of the house. Elain grimaced with every step she took; the leathers were more uncomfortable than everyone made them appear.

Lucien and Rhys weren’t there yet. Elain set down heavily on the bottom stair. She was really doing this, she realized. She was stepping out of her comfort zone, leaving whatever solace she had mustered in this foreign house in this strange land, to venture to an equally unknown and dangerous land for a mission with real consequences, not just for her and her family, but the entire world. There would be no one besides her but a male she hardly knew, who was part of the reason why her life had been upended, who she would have to rely on for her safety. Maybe Nesta was right. Who was Elain kidding; she had no training to do this. She was being childish by insisting she accompany Lucien for no other reason than the need to find herself–

Lucien walked into the foyer with Rhys. Looking around, Lucien shot Elain a quick smirk when he saw her. Every worry left her. Lucien seemed relaxed and at ease, more so than he did this morning. If he wasn’t worried about their mission ahead, why should she be?

Rhys and Feyre were talking quietly to themselves in the corner. Lucien sat down on the stair a few feet away from her.

“I hope I don’t end up on the receiving end of that spear, lady” Lucien said conversationally.

“Feyre told me to resist stabbing you, even when you get a bit of an attitude.”

Lucien scoffed and put a dramatic hand to his chest. “I prefer to think of my words as being witty and charming.”

“She didn’t describe you in such flattering terms.”

“Feyre has a wicked streak in her as well. Are all the Archeron sisters known for their sass and willingness to run head first into perilous situations?”

“Perhaps if you don’t give me any reason to use this spear on you, you’ll find out.”

Lucien laughed, and Elain was speechless. Feyre wasn’t wrong–Lucien was certainly not hard on the eyes. An understatement, really. His long red hair was braided perfectly down his back and contrasted brilliantly with his rich, deeply tanned skin. His smile was bright and open, and stretched the light laugh lines around his plush mouth. The jacket he wore was tailored perfectly and snug on his arms. Lucien had large, broad hands that were resting between muscled thighs. Errantly, Elain wondered how his hands would feel like on her.

She grimaced. This was the male who was partly responsible for ruining her life with Grayson, and she was fawning over his dumb hands when he had done little more than offer a few flirty words with her. She would not be influenced by whatever bond existed between them and willed her traitorous heart to settle. Shewas accompanying him to the Contient for her own reasons, which had nothing to do with the male sitting next to her.

Feyre and Rhys walked over to them. “Alright, it sounds like Rhys and Lucien determined a new route. Rather than take you both to the edge of the human continent, like they had originally planned, we’re going to send you both straight east to Montesere. Since he’s taking two instead of one, Rhys won’t be able to winnow you as far. If he tried to send you any further south, you’d be far too close to Koschei’s lake.” Feyre shrugged apologetically. “We can’t risk the three of you so close to her territory unguarded. You’ll be much further north than we initially planned, so you might need to take a ship south along the coast, then head east into the Continent towards the lake.”

“You will have to make good time on foot if you choose not to take a ship,” Rhys supplied. “I’ve given Lucien extra provisions and money, but the rest is up to you.” He held out his arms to them. “Are you ready?”

This was it, the last chance for Elain to back out. Could she leave her sisters for untold dangers? Could she stand to be alone with the being she simultaneously loathed and craved?

Elain nodded. “Ready.” She gave Feyre a quick hug, then laid her hand on Rhys’s arm. Her sister grabbed Lucien in what Elain thought was a fierce hug, but based on the way she gripped Lucien’s shoulders and whispered something harshly in his ear and the tightening of his face, something else was at play.

Lucien detached himself with a forced smile and terse nod. “Noted, Feyre.” He turned to Rhys and gave him an equally tense look.

“Montesere is no ally, so I’ll only be able to winnow you two to the edge of the territory, and you’ll have to find yourselves to a port. I also won’t have enough energy to winnow you both to the Continent and glamour your appearances, so you’ll need to be careful not to attract attention. Do you have everything?”

Lucien nodded and laid a hand on Rhys’s other arm. With a quiet woosh, everything went dark.

#elucien #elucien fanfic #elucien fanfiction #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #acotar #my fics #my fic #elain x lucien #pro elucien #another long-ish fic #i have this marked down for 6 chapters but who tf knows what'll happen lmao #acotarsecretsanta2023 #acotar gift exchange

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