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animezinglife · 6 months ago

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The Rhythm of Flames

Lucien knows Elain is adjusting to life in Day. What he doesn't expect is for her to embrace its dances so fully. Short one-shot written for @elucienweekofficial (Day 4: High Society).

Genre: General (and a hint of suggestiveness) Post-canon Elucien mini fic/shameless excuse for Elain to let loose. Inspired by this and this. I refuse to believe that in its medley of cultural inspiration, Day isn't a hotspot for all kinds of dancing. Tagging @lucienarcheron, @crazy-ache, @zenkindoflove, and @teddyhoneybear for always being such sweet supporters!

Music and chatter had grown deafening from where Lucien sat beside the High Lord of Day. The Day Court was known for their parties: of the lively, loud bands and strong drink, impressive feasts, dallying, and dancing. They were a people who worked hard and celebrated often–even if for no reason at all–and the latter had taken some getting used to during his more frequent visits. It helped that Helion was a gracious host to his guests, having already spoken with every guest once and mingled among them before returning to his throne; that Lucien knew the High Lord–his father–had eyes everywhere in his court and that very little went on he did not see.

“Lost in thought?” Helion’s deep voice shook Lucien from his thoughts, and Lucien turned to see the High Lord sliding another goblet of wine over to him. He felt the corner of his mouth twitch–hadn’t even noticed the tension he’d held in his posture out of habit. He released a breath, accepting the goblet and taking a long swig.

To say things had initially been awkward with Helion was understatement. Lucien still wasn’t certain where his own role fell in Day. He was accustomed to being a student of other courts. He had long studied the culture, history, politics, and manners of them all, and his efforts had proven invaluable throughout his years as an emissary. What he hadn’t learned in books he’d picked up through years of practical study and experience, conversing and observing courtiers and other locals to offer the best representation possible.

Yet it was one thing to learn the inner workings of a court.

It was another entirely to learn one was its heir.

Learning that Helion was his father had been the greatest shock of his life. He’d long suspected he was not of Beron’s blood; had even gathered through the magic he’d kept hidden through most of his life that his father had been from Day. Lucien had never asked his mother the details; had spared her the risk and turmoil of speaking about it at all. He had assumed his father had been an emissary, or perhaps a traveling merchant or minstrel who’d crossed paths with her all those years ago. He had never blamed his mother for her secret, even though he’d resented the need to keep it a secret in the first place. The years he’d lived under Beron’s monstrous thumb still haunted him: loss and devastation, anger and guilt.

And to discover his father had been Helion all along…

Lucien was still processing how he felt; what that meant for him now and in the future.

What it meant for Elain and the life they were building together.

His eyes scanned the room for her again now, and he ignored Helion’s chuckle.

“She’s safe, Lucien,” he said, amused but not unkindly.

“I know,” he replied, taking another drink of wine. He always knew whether she was or wasn’t; could feel her as though their very souls were intertwined. Perhaps they were through whatever deep magic had led them to each other and tethered them together.

In many ways, Elain seemed to be adjusting to Day better than he was.

She loved the sunshine; the sprawling gardens and striking architecture. She loved the libraries and heat, and to Lucien’s relief, she was quickly embracing the people and culture.

He’d known they would love her–that had never been a question. Elain had made friends here–two of which she’d wandered off into the crowd with tonight–and had slowly but surely began branching out with every visit. He’d stayed by her side when she wanted company and gave her space when she wished it.

She always had a choice, from how much time they spent in Day to how many of its customs she took part in. A small smile crossed his lips at the memory of her shuffling through the unfamiliar clothing in local shops in their earliest visits together, determined to find a balance both suitable for the climate and that she still felt comfortable in. Day fashion could be notoriously revealing by even Fae standards, and Elain preferred more modest attire.

Lucien wouldn’t have cared if she’d graced Day wearing those dreadful Illyrian leathers–he wanted her to be comfortable; wanted her to know she had a place anywhere no matter what she wore.

Over time, she had surprised him by making bolder selections more traditional to the court; attending more of Helion's less infamous sort of parties and branching out with broader social circles. Yet none of those changes elicited quite the same reaction in him as the one he favored most.

Elain wore her smiles more easily in Day.

While he’d never pressed the issue, he could’ve sworn they emerged more frequently here than they did in Night. He felt her relief through the bond; her joy when they visited here, and while he had his suspicions of why that might be, Lucien knew the reason would be hers to tell when she was ready.

Helion cleared his throat and Lucien looked to him, taking his eyes off the crowd as the High Lord nodded towards a group of dancers on a small corner stage. Females clad in midriff-baring attire adorned with gold and jewels slung like belts around the hips, their long, dark hair swaying with their smooth, sensual movements. Males in flowing trousers and similar belts moving in a similar, synchronized rhythm. A small crowd of party goers had gathered around them, one of which Lucien’s eyes settled on and stayed fixed.

That tug of their bond that told him she knew he’d found her.

And what he saw–what he watched–had him entranced.

Nesta Archeron was said to be the dancer of the three sisters. For years, Lucien had assumed that to be true–had known she’d held her own with his brother and was said to draw the eyes of all when she entered the dance floor. Yet Lucien preferred an elegant, unassuming waltz or carefree gavotte with Elain over theatrics. He had led her through and taught her the dances of other courts when they started their emissary work together; had savored every moment of holding her close and breathing in her sweet scent.

But this…

Lucien’s pulse pounded in his chest, heat rising in him at the sight of her as she joined the dancers on their small stage while her friends cheered below. Of the hypnotic, serpentine movements she began to mimic as she threw her head back and laughed; arms adorned with golden jewelry and golden-brown curls swaying against the small hints of bare skin her dress offered. She looked to the female dancer beside her and beamed as she copied the rapid rock of her hips and the light rise and fall of her feet.

Then, she turned.

Her eyes locked with his from across the room as she rolled her body, hips circling and weaving with every bit as much sensual grace the dancers emitted. He took all of her in: the slight shyness that still flickered in her eyes, the soft curves her dress both covered and emphasized and the gleam of sweat reflected in the firelight of the braziers that lined the stage. The tantalizing movements that commanded and held his attention.

She smiled coyly, a blush appearing on her cheeks as the music slowed. She bit her lip and lowered her gaze down her own body as she rolled it again to the beat of the drums. Lucien’s nostrils flared.

Touch her. Taste her.

Cauldron boil him.

He shoved the thought down as she continued her dance, leashing the instincts that told him to cross that dance floor now, pluck her off the stage, and take her to bed. The heat that flooded through him and drove his need; that set his blood ablaze as the flames of their bond reached out to her.

There was no mistaking the tug she sent in response; the gleam in her fawn-brown eyes that nearly drove him wild.

She would finish her dance. She would enjoy this night; this party.

And once they were alone…

Well. He didn’t need daemati gifts to understand her meaning.

He would watch her all night if she wished it.

Sensing the knowing look and smirk Helion threw his way, Lucien forced himself to take another drink. Whatever noise the crowd around them brought had dwindled in comparison to those drums and seeing his mate’s provocative dance. He heard only the drums and the blaze of their bond; of the way her heartbeat had synchronized with both and his own.

Just for tonight, their rhythm and flames were all he needed to hear.

#elucienweek #elucienweek2024 #elucien #day 4: high society #the rhythm of flames #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #elain archeron x lucien vanserra #lucien vanserra x elain archeron #helion spell-cleaver #helion spell cleaver #day court #the day court #elucien fics #short one shot #short one-shot

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allwaswellllll · 6 months ago

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A little hybrid scene and mood board for @elucienweekofficial.

Day 4 - High Society

Question is - should I continue this?

#elucienweek2024 #elain x lucien #elucien #elucien supremacy #pro elucien #my writing #Day 4: High Society

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sadiegirl2021 · 6 months ago

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Elucien High Society Vibes (Instrumental songs only)

@elucienweekofficial

A-side

Safe & Sound by William Joseph

Gentle Touch by Lennard Kastner

Dream River by Woodsman

Far From the Madding Crowd by Craig Armstrong

Fairy Dance by James Newton Howard

Brideshead Revisited No. 24 by Adrian Johnston

Adagietto (piano version) by Arash Safaian/Beethoven

September Song by Agnes Obel

The Night We Met (Instrumental) by Taylor Davis/Lara de Wit

Dark Snowy Night by Daniel.MP3

B-side

Momentary by Edvard Kravchuk

Glittering Water by Jiri Horak

Where is my mind? (piano version) by The Blue Notes

Idea 10 by Gibran Alcocer

Idea 22 by Gibran Alcocer

Night by Ludovico Einaudi

Comptine d'un Autre été: L'Après-Midi by Yann Tiersen

To Keep You from Breaking by Kelsey Woods

Wildest Dreams by Minnz Piano

Where's My Love (piano version) - SYML

#elucien #pro elucien #prompt: high society #elucienweek2024 #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #playlist #elucien playlist #instrumental music #reading playlist #writing playlist

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starfall-spirit · 6 months ago

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@elucienweekofficial Day 4: High Society

Summary: Elain knows what's expected of her. Her mother had been drilling it into her for decades after all and her opinion on Lucien Vanserra was made abundantly clear on Solstice Eve. Unfortunately for her mother, Elain was done with the status quo.

*Burning in the Starlight Universe* // Read on Ao3 // Event Masterlist

AN: This is 1.9k words of fluff and smut. BitS is not required reading, but if Feyre x Rhys x Eris sounds like a good time to you, feel free to check it out. Enjoy!

CW: Smut

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

That was her mother's voice running through her head at the moment, a scolding for what Elain had planned for tonight. She was wrong for slipping out of her nightgown and into the pants and top in her younger sister's room just so she could sneak out tonight. She'd seen Feyre bury the form-fitting outfits beneath the layers and layers of silk and tulle dominating her oversized armoire when the girls were just settling into their family home again. Simple and easy to move in. Feyre hadn't been permitted to wear such clothing around the court of course. Their mother was far too fixated on turning her into a proper lady to allow her to wear anything but dresses day in and out. Even so, Elain was grateful to have them accessible now. She certainly wouldn't be able to sneak out of the house in her day dress, and her nightgown was far too immodest to be wandering outdoors in, especially with the ever-present Autumn chill.

If it weren't for the natural cold, she may have been tempted. Every moment she'd managed to get alone with her mate seemed to reveal another dirty promise for the future when she finally braved breaking away from her family's expectations. The day she could tell her mother and father that she had been the one to ruin her near engagement to Lord Graysen. That she had blanched at her bleak and cold future holding a sham of a marriage and asked the male courting her to look away, even if he had to paint her as the problem. She was after all.

Problematic as she reached too high. Too desperately. Ladies did not marry for love. They married for power and honor if they were pretty enough.

Elain was tired of being a doll to parade.

So she danced with her mate at the Solstice Eve ball, later encouraging a courtship of discretion whenever he could manage to visit his brother for business. Eris was curious, she knew. Autumn was the last place Lucien wanted to be and the Spring alliance did not justify his constant visitation, no matter how fragile their agreement may stand at this point. What his own High Lord suspected, Elain wasn't quite sure.

It was another thing she'd have to ask him tonight.

Sneaking out was easy enough. After all, since the moment she could walk and talk her life had been filled with lesson after lesson about how a lady should keep silent. Cauldron forbid she had a personality that scared off suitable gentlemen. She didn't think she'd ever be this grateful for her quiet grace. And Lucien was right where he promised he'd be, leaning against a tree and turning a coin over his knuckles as he waited for her to arrive. "My lady," he greeted her teasingly.

"Lucien." She sighed as she slipped into his arms, his familiar warmth and scent a comfort she ached to burrow into after weeks apart.

"I'm sorry it's been so long. I'm running out of excuses to spend time in Autumn without exposing the mating bond. How are you, my love?"

She shrugged, letting her mate pull her through the moon-gilded wood. "Good. Fine, I suppose. Feyre's off in Night again, so Mother's breathing down my neck the moment a suitor's at the door." It was her own fault that Feyre's wedding planning was the only time she had any freedom from her mother's marriage machinations. If she confessed her bond discovery, that soul-binding connection was protection from any other undesirable match. But it would also be a certain road to her parents disowning her. The time was rapidly approaching to decide how important their approval was to her. The actual decision was obvious, in truth. The reality was that she was unprepared to deal with the inevitable contention her decision would bring. "Lucien, I—"

She gasped as a blast of heat met her, wisps of loose hair curling from the humidity. "I didn't even know this was here," she murmured, dropping her eyes to study the hot springs before her as Lucien released her to shrug out of his shirt. And maybe she stared a little longer than she usually let herself—but could she really be faulted for it when her mate looked like that?

Lucien chuckled, either at her shameless ogling or her comment about the hot springs. Both, was always an option, she supposed. “Because your parents have given you so much time and freedom to explore the Autumn woods since you returned to court, right?" The open woods were no place for a lady. "Are you going to get in fully clothed?" he asked, quiet amusement lacing every word. And if her ears weren't deceiving her, the promise of something darker. She shuttered, watching him turn and sink into the heated pool with a satisfied groan.

He raised an eyebrow and after casting a nervous glance over her shoulder, she began to strip down, anxious under his unblinking gaze, even as she left her clothes a few feet from the pool’s edge. “Gorgeous,” he murmured the moment the last piece was tossed aside. Something in her eased at that. It wasn’t a surprise her mate was attracted to her, but this moment they were sharing defied everything she’d been taught since girlhood, even Under the Mountain.

Especially Under the Mountain.

She let herself sink down until the water covered her shoulders, the rough rim of the bowl chafing her back. “Come here.” Rising again, Elain waded over to him, settling into his open arms and pressing her face into his neck. He only let her hide for a moment, a finger and thumb hooking beneath her chin to tilt her head back enough so he could turn his own. “Cauldron, I’ve missed you.”

Then he was kissing her, his other arm tightening at her back to draw her closer. Close enough that she moved to sit in his lap, just barely keeping herself from jumping at the feeling of the hard length beneath her. Startling as it was, any concern about the size of him was swept away in the heat of the kiss.

The autumn wind grazed her damp shoulders, but the rising steam from the spring and Lucien’s roaming hands were enough to banish the chill before it could truly sink under her skin.

Pulling back, she cupped his face. “You’re certain no one will find us here?”

He smiled softly. “I’ve shielded everything in earshot. And if someone manages to breach that shield I’ll know immediately. I can winnow us somewhere else in an instant.” She gnawed her lip. “Elain, my love, no one roams the woods at this hour. We have only the moon and stars as a witness tonight.”

Even with such confidence in their privacy, Lucien didn’t move to continue what they had started, leaving her to decide where the evening would lead. Leaning in once again, she pressed her lips to his, letting them part the moment she felt the brush of his tongue against them.

“Sweet girl,” he groaned.

Gripping her hips, he guided her to turn in so they were almost chest to chest before sliding his hands down the curve of her ass to cup her thighs, again tugging softly until she shifted to straddle his lap, the hard length of his cock pressed flush against her center. “Oh.”

It was instinct more than anything that had her sinking down to grind against him until his seemingly infinite control finally snapped. She’d yet to see it give away—then again, Lucien had yet to see her naked. No male had.

Just like that, her confidence fizzled out.

“What’s that face for?”

“I’ve just… I’ve never done this before.”

Lucien hummed, his broad hands returning to her waist and silently encouraging her to drop her full weight on him once again. “And yet you’re already doing so well for me, aren’t you? Feel what you do to me, little mate.” Snaking a hand down between them, he stroked his thumb over her clit, drawing out a soft whimper. “A few moments together and all I can think about is being buried in your hot little cunt,” he crooned.

Elain let her eyes flutter shut, the steady stimulation against her clit and the hardness pressed flush against her melding into what she knew would be her undoing. Two fingers curved under her, pushing in without warning. “Lucien!” She scrabbled for something to hold onto, settling for his shoulders. Already slick with sweat from the heat of the springs they didn’t make for much of an anchor. Initiating their next kiss, she wrapped her arms behind his neck, rocking against his hand as he drove her higher, right up to the edge of her release. “I need—”

Even with the drag of the water between them the flick against her clit was sharp. She shattered in his arms, grateful for the sound shield around them as she cried out. He didn’t give her the chance to recover from it either, lining up to ease into her, sinking an inch deeper with every stroke. “Gods,” she groaned, panting into his neck as she struggled to adjust to his size.

She let out another long whine, only slightly soothed by the fingers reaching to play with the curling wisps of hair at her nape that had fallen free from her messy updo. “Such a good girl. You take my cock so well, little dove. Don’t rush yourself. Just move when you’re ready.”

She only let herself hesitate a moment longer, giving her hips an experimental roll before gradually increasing her pace. “Fuck,” her mate hissed. “That’s it. Just like that. Good girl.”

His steady stream of praise washed over her, waking something that bolstered her fragile confidence until she had set a steady rhythm, accepting his guidance in sliding up and down his hard length. And though he implied she would be taking the lead, it didn’t take long for him to start thrusting up to meet her.

Elain was perhaps a bit too pleased to find that every time she clenched down around him he became a bit more vocal in his pleasure. “Fuck. Keep going, sweetheart. Just like that. Just—” His teeth scraped over her neck and he gave a low groan, fingers rising to roll her stiff nipples, once again drawing her up until her climax was just out of reach. “I want you to come with me, sweetheart.”

His teeth clamped down on her neck, pinching just hard enough to leave a bruise she’d have to cover before her maids arrived at sunrise. And she was lost to the ecstasy he brought once again.

The bond between them was singing by the time the white-hot pleasure faded to a dull hum beneath her skin—the closest that thread had ever felt to being whole. Accepted.

It was then, curled against her mate in the dark of the woods, a pleasant soreness claiming her body, that she realized what she really wanted.

Freedom.

From her household, from society, from the beliefs whe let take root in her mind. “I don’t want to wait anymore,” she whispered.

Lucien froze, one hand still tangled in her hair, now entirely unbound behind her. “What are you saying, love?”

“I’m saying, Lucien, that you’re my mate. And I want the world to know it.”

~~~~~

Taglist: @corcracrow // @goddess-aelin // @shallyne // @the-lonelybarricade // @the-lost-changeling // @faeriequeensuriel // @pandavelaris // @s-uppertime // @elentiyawhitethorn // @vulpes-fennec // @headcanonheadcase // @aldbooks // @panicatthenightcourt // @jennity-blogs // @thelovelymadone

#acotar #elucienweek #elucienweek2024 #day 4: High Society #elucien #elucien fic #BitS #Burning in the Starlight #AU fic #elain finally decides to fuck society #and fuck lucien in another way

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eudaimonia83 · 6 months ago

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Look at the little corsage in her hair

And how her thumb is under his lapel 😈

I love everything about this

𝓔𝓵𝓾𝓬𝓲𝓮𝓷 𝓦𝓮𝓮𝓴: 𝓗𝓲𝓰𝓱 𝓢𝓸𝓬𝓲𝓮𝓽𝔂 🌸

@elucienweekofficial

We’ve been dying to share this beautiful artwork for months now!

@amandapearls and I are so excited we were able to work with Carasalexandra again

Thank you so much Caras for this wonderful artwork of Lucien and Elain. You always draw them both so beautifully! I can’t get over how stunning you make Elain look!

Commissioned by myself and @amandapearls

Characters belong to Sarah J Maas

#elucien #pro elucien #prompt: high society #elucienweek2024 #elucien fanart #elain archeron #pro elain #pro lucien vanserra #lucien vanserra

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majuandrad · 6 months ago

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Elucien Week Day 4: High Society 🎻 High society full of dances, crowded rooms and secret glances ✨ @elucienweekofficial

#elucienweek2024 #elucien #elucien fanart #fanart #digital art #illustration #elain x lucien #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #acotar fanart #acotar

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octobers-veryown · 6 months ago

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Don't mind me, I only needed to see them all together after this amazing Elucienweek.

Looking forward to have some more inspo x.

#elucien #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #pro elucien #acotar moodboard #elucienweek2024 #acotar edit #day 1: fated #day 2: golden #day 3: adventurers #day 4: high society #day 5: Masks #day 6: fearless #day 7: AU/Tension and Healing

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lamija-v · 6 months ago

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Elucien Week 2024 - Day 4 - “High Society”

for version without text see my instagram

#elucien #pro elucien #elucienweek2024 #elucien week 2024 #acotar #acotar fanart #a court of thrones and roses #elain #elain archeron #elain archeron fanart #lucien #lucien vanserra #lucien vanserra fanart #elucien fanart

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eudaimonia83 · 6 months ago

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They are going to slayyyyy at all the political parties. Private meetings. Public dances. Big events.

𝓔𝓵𝓾𝓬𝓲𝓮𝓷 𝓦𝓮𝓮𝓴 𝓓𝓪𝔂 4: 𝓗𝓲𝓰𝓱 𝓢𝓸𝓬𝓲𝓮𝓽𝔂

I love the idea of Lucien and Elain being emissaries going to functions together here they are drinking champagne together at one @rinamoart did an amazing job with it. Thank you so much! I loved working with you.

Artist: @rinamoart on instagram

Commissioned by me

Characters belong to Sarah J. Mass

#their outfits are stunning!#elucien fanart #elucienweek2024 #day 4: high society #elucien #pro elucien #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #elain x lucien #elucien supremacy

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climbthemountain2020 · 1 month ago

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What Are You Doing New Year's Eve?

Ch.1/5 | Ao3

Elucien Holiday Fic for the @acotargiftexchange

Completed Word Count: 33K Chapter Word Count: 7k

For @itsybitsybluesy I hope this hits all your boxes! The story is finished, and will be fully posted this week <3

Two Days Before

Lucien POV

Lucien looked into the mirror, the lamp casting a low light and making the shadows jump around his face and glow like a halo around his copper hair. He brushed it back over one shoulder, fussing with it then scoffing at himself as he realized how nit-picky he was being.

He checked his pocket watch, jittery as the moments ticked down.

It was nearly time to leave and walk to the River House for Solstice and Feyre’s birthday. Just as he had done every year for the last five, he’d winnowed into Velaris earlier in the day. The wards had been marked to his signature and blood, clearing easily for him as Emissary to Night. As soon as he’d arrived, he’d grabbed a bite at Mirania’s Cafe, his personal favorite, and gone to his apartment to bathe and dress and have a cup of spiced tea that he’d definitely not poured whiskey into.

He straightened, tugging down his vest and checking the sleeves of his forest green tailored jacket. He had hand selected this outfit, the colors of Autumn always highlighting his features best, as much as he despised his court of origin. The burnished orange paired with the green always made him feel a bit like a pumpkin, but from experience, he was well aware that they paired well with the rest of his appearance. He brushed his shoulders a final time, checking the mirror once more and nodding as if to support himself.

This was ridiculous.

Of course, Lucien always took great care in his appearance. He had pride in the way he presented himself: clever, courteous, and well-dressed. He had, after all, been raised in high society, for all it had been worth in the end. Additionally, the company he tended to keep in Velaris was mostly well-dressed, too. He couldn’t afford to look lacking around them.

Lucien locked his front door behind him, balancing the box of gifts in one arm while simultaneously tucking the keyring into his inner jacket pocket and making his way down the carved stone steps and onto the cobblestone street. The winter sun had just begun to set over the towering, snowy mountains of Velaris, and the streets were lit with twinkling lights that bounced off all the shining boughs of holly to celebrate the upcoming holiday. Despite splitting his time the past few years between here and his primary residence in the Human Lands, Lucien loved Velaris more than he’d ever care to admit. The city always smelled like a mass variety of delicious foods and drinks and spices, and laughter and joy always seemed to filter through the streets to echo warmly around his ears. Autumn had never had anywhere like this, nor had Spring or the Human Lands. Velaris was truly unlike anything he’d ever known.

Some visits, he’d stay a little extra time, spending days upon days just walking around the city. If Rhysand or Feyre were aware, which he was certain they were, they never mentioned it to him. He’d explored just about every space in the city now, and even some of the mountain trails, lakes, streams, and forests nearby. Lucien loved being here.

There was only one thing that could make it better.

Lucien shuffled the box of gifts in his arms, the unwieldy weight making it difficult to hold in just one arm. His gift for Elain this year was a bit more personal than in the past, but he hoped it would also be something practical. He’d noticed she’d been more interested in germinating the wide variety of flowers that surrounded the River House in the past year, each new flower cropping up more lovely and colorful than the last batch as she tended them with great care and precision. He’d found a lovely leather craftsman in The Rainbow, and while he’d waited on the new leathers he’d commissioned, he’d browsed the store. In one corner, perfectly tucked into a shelf, had been a book on display– a leatherbound journal with the shape of a vine pressed into the cover. He’d thought that perhaps, as she crossed and bred more flowers, she might like to keep track. So, as he purchased his leathers, he’d asked him to press the name Elain into the cover of the book too.

Things had been lighter between them the past year, though he wouldn’t go so far as to call them friends. Once things had very obviously come to an end between her and the Shadowsinger when he’d found his mate, Lucien had given Elain his time and patience, and in time, they’d worked their way into something tentative just this side of friendship.

It had begun when he’d come upon the River House to meet with Rhys a few months before the previous Solstice. She’d been in the garden lining the front walkways as he’d approached. He wasn’t in the habit of stopping to speak to her then, but when he’d seen the gloves on her hands, he’d stopped short, his feet rooted to the ground. Elain was barely bundled up against the chill of the air, her shoulders almost entirely exposed as the wind tossed her hair over her freckled back. She’d been humming, digging through the brambles surrounding flowers of bright purple and yellow. He was in awe of her effortless beauty, as he always was when he saw her, his body and mind unable to communicate whenever she was around.

As though she sensed his presence, she turned, meeting his eyes with a little gasp. He loved her eyes, a soft brown as downy as a fawn’s coat, beautiful against her porcelain, freckled skin and bright cheeks.

So, there they stood, two strangers, bonded irrevocably for life, who had barely exchanged four sentences save pleasantries in the years past. She stuck her hand out lamely, gesturing at the flowers, the pretty leather of the glove stained with earth and catching his eye again.

She cleared her through. “The crocuses love the cold, but, uhm, the brambles tend to start moving in if I don’t stay on top of them.”

It had been such a simple statement, the most bland of information, but Lucien was riveted. A bright blush crept up Elain’s neck and face.

“The gloves help when it’s cold. I meant to tell you. I never wear gloves to garden. It’s not that I don’t– that I don’t like them. I do, they’re beautifully made. I just like the dirt under my nails. But in the winter, they’re very effective with the brambles.”

Lucien could feel the smile spreading unbidden across his face. It was perhaps the most words he’d ever heard her speak at once, and the fluster in them had him feeling some strange type of giddy.

He fought and lost the urge to tease her a bit, to see that blush creep higher to the tips of her beautifully pointed ears that she finally left on display regularly. He ached to trace them with his lips, nip them with his teeth, as he did so frequently in his dreams.

Don’t scare her off Lucien. This is a fragile moment, don’t be a cad.

He lost the war with himself, the urge to see that gorgeous flush again overwhelming all sense left in his centuries-old body.

“Your flowers are beautiful, my lady. I’m sure that they are pleased whenever you find time to be on top of them.”

Elain let out the most ungraceful sound that Lucien had perhaps ever heard from her, a laugh her body had resisted. The blush rose just as he’d hoped, beautiful and soft and pink as it raced to the tips of her ears. He gave a sweeping bow and a smile, continuing on into the house and sending the smallest rush of warmth back at her to soothe her skin against the frigid air. He refused to look back, his decision made. For the blush alone, it had been worth it.

That had been over a year ago now.

It would have been foolish for Lucien to assume that things would change between them after that, and they hadn’t, not really.

But…

At first, he thought he was imagining it.

At his next visit, Elain had averted her eyes as usual at his presence, but his breath had caught in his throat to see her at dinner wearing the pearl drop earrings he’d gifted her years before. He’d never once seen her wear them. They caught the light beautifully, and she had tucked her hair back, showing them off for anyone willing to look.

It felt intentional; it felt like a claiming.

He had forced himself under control, begged his mind not to read into it, to get his hopes up.

Then that night, with Mor in town and Nesta and Cassian down from Illyria, the seating arrangements had been shifted for dinner, leaving the only open seat for him at the end corner of the table next to Elain. His eyes crept back again and again to the earrings and the way they swayed gently back and forth as she spoke. All night he fought the urge to inhale too deeply, to speak past pleasantries and risk scaring her away.

But his body fought him every second.

Smell her, touch her, taste her, it said.

And it was impossible to avoid, the smell of her, honey and cinnamon and glazed pears nearly making his eyes water and his cock half hard under the cover of the table. He’d glamoured himself immediately, unwilling to risk making anything awkward, especially with a loudmouth like Cassian around and always ready to tease him like a bawdy older sibling. He liked Cassian, but there were no secrets safe with the giant bat.

As dinner that night had come to a close, he breathed a sigh of relief to think he’d made it through. Elain would escape to the kitchen as she always did, and everyone else would drink in one of the many sitting rooms of the River House, and he would be safe.

Gods , but he wished she’d come, too– plop down in his lap, let him press his nose to the juncture of her neck and shoulder and inhale until he was dizzy with the scent of her.

“Did you get enough to eat, Lucien?” Feyre poked fun at his clean plate as she stood with Rhys to move to the sitting room as Nuala and Cerridwen cleared the table.

He laughed. “The food here is always impeccable. I’ve long gotten over the stigma of being the first to clean a plate.”

Everyone chuckled, and Lucien began to push his chair back to move with them. Before he could remove himself from the table, Elain spoke as she began to clear the remaining dishware. It was so quiet he hardly heard it, but she bent closer to him under the guise of picking up an errant fork, her breath nearly in his ear.

“I’ve always seen some merit in finishing first, personally.”

Everyone had already left the room, and no one but Elain was there to witness Lucien’s sharp inhale. Nor the way his cock immediately stiffened along with his spine.

With a swirl of honeyed pears and demure smiles, Elain had pulled back and was already gone, not sparing him a single second look.

Had he imagined it?

He spent weeks plaguing himself with that very question. But the next time he’d visited it had happened again. This time, the middle man had been a cream-filled pastry from a local bakery on one of Lucien’s morning visits. He’d shown up early that day per Rhys’s request in order to overlap with Nesta and Cassian’s schedules, so they’d opted to do a casual meeting over breakfast. Elain was helping Feyre with Nyx on one of the small couches lining the massive dining room, and Feyre reached back for him just in time for Lucien to sit down. Naturally, Elain would be eating breakfast with them; it was her home. But Lucien hadn’t been prepared for her to lift the small tea plate with the full pasty on it, meeting his eyes from across the room when no one else could see, and taking a bite so large from it that the cream exploded across the plate in a surge so disarmingly sensual Lucien nearly choked to death on his tea.

So, for the past year, not only had she made a point to wear those blessed earrings every time he’d stopped in, but she’d made a habit of torturing him.

Between innuendo, teasing visuals, and side comments that no one but him ever seemed to hear, Lucien was convinced he’d lost his entire mind.

That Solstice, he’d brought her a cookbook from the vendor’s quarter in Velaris. It had specialties compiled from every court, running the gamut from appetizers to great feasts to desserts, all nicely bound. For the first time, she’d looked him in the eyes as she’d opened it, thanking him and stroking a finger back and forth over the cover while Lucien tried his hardest not to explode into a million fragments.

He’d come back a week later to update Rhys on a matter on the border of Spring, and waiting for him in the study was a plate of cherry clove tarts, his favorite childhood dessert from Autumn

He’d felt twisted up at the emotion at seeing them for the first time in decades, the smell of them causing the sharp sting of unshed tears to burn his eyes. His mother used to love making these, sneaking them beneath the edge of the counter to him as he skittered off to devour them in an alcove, yet unaware of the sort of life that lay ahead for him. He controlled himself as he waited for Rhys to finish a meeting, and when the door finally burst open, he was surprised to see Elain carrying a tray with tea and cups

She startled. “Oh! I didn’t think you’d be here yet.”

“You made these?”

She blushed again, that lovely spread creeping up her neck at the implication before he even realized what he’d asked. “No, Nuala did. They were in the book you gave me. I thought you might like them.” She poured two cups of tea and handed one to him. A chai. “I figured it might be nice to have something from Autumn when I heard you’d be coming.”

“That is…very kind, Elain.” Lucien was having trouble finding the words, so he sipped the tea instead.

“Well, have you tried one?” She gestured to the tray. The tarts were covered in a dusted layer of powdered sugar, Elain carefully selecting one and placing it on a small tea plate for herself. Lucien leaned forward to help himself– no part of him strong enough to resist cherry clove tarts. He sat back, carefully shaking any loose sugar, then stopped in his tracks as he watched Elain lean in to take a big bite, her pink tongue slipping out of her mouth and over her perfect lips to catch the sugar and missing a bit of cherry at the corner of her mouth.

He wanted to put his mouth on it, suck it off her skin then keep going.

Lucien nearly fell apart as he watched her swallow, her throat bobbing as she consumed the pastry. Something primal and uncontrolled within him was begging and roaring and tearing to toss her on the couch, lift her skirts, and fuck her stupid.

Something about the mischief glowing wild in her eyes told him what she was imagining wasn’t far off.

She raised a finger to the edge of her mouth, pressing the errant piece of filling onto her finger, then sticking the same finger into her mouth, sucking it elegantly. Her eyes, the soft brown of a fawn’s coat, didn’t leave his for a moment.

Lucien was only saved by the grace of the doors opening once again and Rhys entering.

“So good to see you, Lucien,” Elain said through a smile as she turned to go, leaving him absolutely wrecked in the process.

Now, as Lucien walked through the streets of Velaris for yet another Solstice, he felt ready to snap every time he came within a mile of her. He could hear the beating of her heart quicken when he came into the room, could see the delicious flush over her soft skin as they spoke. Something had shifted between them, despite no one else seeming to notice or care. Everyone still treated her like their little baker, their gardener, sweet Elain. Lucien was sure she was sweet in many ways; in fact, he’d like to try a taste and test that theory himself.

But he held himself back. Elain had distanced herself from him for so long, for so many reasons, and he would let her decide when, if ever, she was ready. And when she did, he would be waiting. Until then, though, he remained a pile of dry brush, waiting for the single scratch of a match that would burn it all to embers.

He passed the garden beds in the dark, the sun now sunken below the mountains surrounding them and the lights lining the path illuminating his way. He could practically see the ghosts of him and Elain speaking there, could almost smell her on the wind, hear her laughter dance around his ears. He shook his head and pressed on, shifting the box to one hip as he knocked on the door.

“Lucien!” A very pregnant Feyre flung open the door, hugging him and nearly bowling him over with her belly. “Sorry. Stomach first.” She waved him in, undeterred. “We’re still waiting on a few. Come on and have a drink. I can take those!” She grabbed the box of gifts, carting them off to the study as Lucien shucked off his coat to hang it in the foyer. He could hear the merriment rooms away, people laughing and cracking jokes, ice clinking in glasses. Between Feyre’s found family and Vassa and Jurian, Lucien had more community now than he’d maybe ever had in his life. Five years ago, he wouldn’t have believed it. He surely wouldn’t have believed he’d be sharing a Solstice with Rhysand and his brothers, but here they were.

He couldn’t sense Elain anywhere in the house, the steady thrumming of her heart mysteriously absent as he pressed down the hall and joined the others. Rhys poured him a drink and clapped him heartily on the back as he took a seat and chatted. All the while, his mind was elsewhere, eternally searching for her in every space he entered.

“...strange, though. Nothing major, but definitely a pattern.”

“How many does that make now?”

“I think that was maybe the seventh in as many months, maybe even less.”

Lucien’s interest was piqued, of course, now that he’d been caught out not listening. “What’s that?”

“Velaris has seen a series of vandalisms lately–”

“And Rhysand is being over involved, despite us doing quite literally the same things here as younglings.”

Lucien grinned again– Cassian wasn’t shy about getting some drink in him and sharing innumerable stories about their youth. Even Lucien had to laugh when he wasn’t rolling his eyes.

“What sort of vandalism are we talking about?” If they weren’t seriously on alert, he imagined it couldn't be anything too grave.

Cassian piped up as soon as Rhysand opened his mouth to speak, earning another irritated look. “ Nothing. It’s the work of a bored teenager, I’m sure.”

“Tampered wards, things moved around. More recently there have been a few small, contained fires and explosives,” Rhysand offered.

“Explosives?” Lucien lifted his brows.

“They’re firecrackers, Rhys. Get your head out of your a–”

“Alright, here we go!” The voice of Nesta filtered through the room as she raced in, her nephew on her shoulders flapping his wings valiantly. Now that he was nearing four and his wings were strong enough to start supporting him, the group had been allowing him to practice flying. Every time Lucien visited, they were trying another method to strengthen them enough to carry his full weight. Lucien enjoyed watching Nyx; it tickled him to see such seasoned warriors care so tenderly for such a small person. Something he never dared to address within himself ached at the thought of a family all his own. And, as always, he shoved the thoughts away violently. There was no use imagining something that might never exist. Lucien knew from experience the pain that getting your hopes up could render.

“You’re too overprotective now that you’re a father, Rhysie. What are you going to do when Nyx is tearing up the town? Call in the Darkbringers ?” Laughs came from around the room as Feyre settled next to Rhys, giving him a kiss. Nesta returned with Nyx to Cassian’s side, a protective hand coming around her shoulders. Lucien, not for the first time, reveled in this feeling of family around him. Years ago, he’d felt very much the outsider at these gatherings, always uncomfortable and not quite the right fit. But something had shifted long before Elain had started speaking to him more. Perhaps it had been the sacrifices he’d been willing to make in the battle with Koschei , or maybe just the recurrence of his presence had finally become commonplace enough to be accepted. Regardless, this was another home to him now– these were the people he’d chosen to surround himself with. He was glad to spend his Solstices here, and happier still to have another holiday in the Human Lands for Christmas.

The front door slammed open, boisterous voices in the hall pouring in. Lucien knew that it was not Elain. No one seemed worried, and he tried not to be either. Elain had been fae for years now. She was smart and knew Velaris well. She was likely just out grabbing last minute supplies for dinner or dessert, knowing her.

Emerie and Mor rounded the corner, arms around each other and flushed from the cold. Mor had taken the longest to warm up to him, for the obvious reasons, but he found he liked her quick wit and admired the fierceness with which she protected her friends. They’d eventually bonded drunk one night while he agreed to tell her embarrassing stories about Eris growing up.

“Lu Lu! You’re here!” With acceptance had come nicknames.

Emerie slung Mor down onto the couch. “We started a bit early at Rita’s,” she pretended to whisper, Mor shoving at her butt with her foot.

Behind them were the Shadowsinger and Gwyn, much quieter in their entrance, but wrapped around each other nonetheless. They weren’t particularly talkative, as far as members of the inner circle went. But there was no denying how in love they were. Lucien’s heart ached a bit, longed when he saw the way their eyes always met, their covert touches nearly missable by anyone not searching for them. Would Elain be quiet in that way? Reserved? Or would she love out loud like Mor and Feyre? More thoughts that he regularly forced from his own head.

“Is that everyone?” Cassian asked Rhys, changing topics.

“Everyone who’s coming. Amren somehow lost a bet and is spending Solstice in Summer.”

Mor snickered. “God, she’s done for. Or maybe Varian is. Who knows with the two of them.”

Around him, everyone continued talking, but Lucien was no longer paying attention, the pounding in his ears suddenly overwhelming. It was the steady thwump , thwump , thwump of a familiar heartbeat, one he knew just as intimately as his own.

He couldn’t see her, but Lucien knew Elain had arrived. Her heart was pounding in time with his, a steady beat with an echo that always calmed something in him at the same time as it drove him mad. His body immediately went on alert, skin flushed and blood rushing below his waist. This back and forth dance with her was like the longest, most intense edging he’d ever experienced in his life. Every time he visited, he found himself glamouring his scent for the entire duration of his stay.

It was only moments between when he’d felt her arrive and when she bustled out of the kitchen, face flushed and eyes a bit wild. Lucien had a moment where jealousy roared inside him like an ugly beast. Had she been out with another suitor? But her scent hit him from across the room with the intensity of a brick wall, and there was no one there except her, lovely and light and intoxicating.

“So sorry! Had to finish the icing.”

Liar, he thought, but he let the amusement remain in his eyes alone. Beautiful little liar.

But Lucien kept her secret, despite his own curiosity. And when he sat down next to her at dinner, he scented her again, just to be sure.

Sometime in that past year, his seat had regularly become the one next to hers. No matter the other company present, he would find her as he looked for his own seat, the open one on her left belonging to him. They had never addressed it, nor had anyone else, but it continued nonetheless.

Another thing Lucien had learned was that the members of the Inner Circle never missed a chance to celebrate, and every chance they had to celebrate, they cooked enough food to feed a family of twenty for roughly two weeks. He couldn’t complain– every single thing he’d ever eaten there had been nothing short of mouth watering, and he always finished everything with great gusto, often reaching for seconds, and greatly savoring the leftovers they inevitably sent him home with. Tonight’s feast was no different, plate upon plate of roasted meats, vegetables soaked in butter, the creamiest mashed potatoes that Lucien had personally ever seen, as well as side dishes that he’d never even heard of before lined the table.

He listened as everyone spoke around him, the way they normally did. He enjoyed being a listener, most of the time, interjecting occasionally but mostly just enjoying the friendly back and forth. Elain, as usual, was quiet by his side. He caught her frequently in his periphery, practically dragging his eyes away from her by force each time.

Until one time, he found her looking back. The conversations continued, loud and brash, around them, but her eyes stayed hooked on his. Then, without saying a word, Elain lifted a forkful of food to her mouth. Lucien tracked the movement like a predator watching its prey, each millisecond it traveled through the air sending thousands more sparks down his spine until, finally, the fork met her lips. Her pink, perfectly bowed lips– which took their precious time closing around the fork, pursing slowly, intentionally, as she closed her eyes, savoring the food.

Lucien had the sense to check his glamour before his heart gave out right there at the Solstice table.

When she opened her eyes again, batting her lashes and returning her fork to her plate, a smirk teased her lips.

Cauldron boil and fry me.

Lucien’s breathing had sped up, and he fought desperately to get it controlled before someone else noticed he sounded like a panting animal. He forced his eyes back to his own plate with willpower that he must have plucked from the very depths of his soul.

He was confronting this tonight. Somehow, some way, he was getting Elain alone. He adjusted in his seat, his cock hard and angry in his pants, and saw Elain smile fully down into her food.

Oh yes, there would be discussions.

+++

Waiting through presents and dessert was a special kind of torture for Lucien, his body aching to move the night along so he could get her alone, even just for a moment. A highlight, however, had been Lucien seeing Elain open the present he’d gotten for her. She seemed a bit flustered as she opened it, eyes somewhat glassy with emotion as she’d looked at him after.

“Thank you, Lucien.” His name on her tongue nearly drove him mad with as tightly as he was wound. But he simply nodded in response as she turned to set it tenderly aside, as though it was something precious.

Now, it was long past midnight, the night quiet and the revelry settled into something more casual and comfortable. Mor was crashed out on the couch, her head in Emerie’s lap as she stroked her hair. Gwyn and Azriel had left not long after dinner, having just arrived back from spy work on the continent before coming to the River House. Nesta and Cassian were retiring to a guest bedroom, too drunk to fly or winnow home. Elain had long since gone to the kitchens to help clean up and pack food and treats to send off, always careful to let Nuala or Cerridwen prep, package, and deliver the one for Lucien.

But he hadn’t seen her in hours, the steady beating of her heart close, but not close enough. He could feel his chances slipping away.

“Lucien, would you like to stay?” Feyre asked sweetly, coming up to him with a hand on her stomach, Rhys not far behind.

He was not so drunk he couldn’t get home–he was actually quite sober– but being in the same house as Elain while he slept was a special kind of torture. On the other hand, it would give him more time tomorrow to speak with her. He’d made up his mind.

“Sure, thanks for the offer.”

“You know where your room is.” She gave him a brief kiss on the cheek. “Happy Solstice, Lucien.”

“Happy birthday, Feyre.” Lucien had stayed often enough that he could find his way down the airy halls of the River House, the ceilings reaching high on each floor and windows lining each inch of open space to show the sun and stars. The room he typically stayed in was at the end of the hall, where most of the other bedrooms aside from Rhys, Feyre, and Nyx slept. It was reserved for him and him alone, though he didn’t stay often. They simply had more rooms than they needed.

He liked the comfort of it. It had floor to ceiling windows overlooking the Sidra, and a bathroom of his own so he didn’t need to wander far. He shucked off his vest as he entered, draping it over the chair by the door. But Lucien stopped when his eyes caught on an item sitting in a beam of moonlight on his bed.

There on the duvet was a small package. He stepped closer to find it was wrapped in brown paper, delicately tied with a twine bow. He could scent her on it, the wrapping carrying hints that he could mistake for no one else. He picked it up in his hands, the box nearly weightless and yet carrying the weight of the universe within it.

Elain had gotten him a Solstice present.

He was nearly afraid to open it, afraid to ruin the magic. She’d never given him anything before. Had hardly thanked him for his presents before last year. And yet, here it was. A gift that felt so undeniably her resting in his palm.

Lucien carefully pulled the twine, setting it on the bed. He would save it and the paper and everything else forever, he knew without a doubt. As he opened the small box inside, his heart leapt into his throat. There in the moonlight, he could see a pair of cufflinks nestled into the cotton buffeting. They were oval, remarkably shaped, the center filled with something that appeared to be resin cradling the most lovely assortment of crushed fall leaves imaginable. It looked just like the woods around the Forest House, a rare piece of home that he actually missed.

It was, without a doubt, the most thoughtful gift that Lucien had ever received.

Lucien’s chest twisted momentarily, the emotion overcoming him. But when it happened again, he knew it wasn’t emotion tugging in his chest.

It was the bond. Elain was pulling on the bond.

Like a specter in search of the afterlife, he followed the pull blindly, setting the box down on the table by the bed and moving towards the door without another thought. He felt it again, stronger this time, and he obeyed, no doubts in his mind about where she wanted him to go.

He usually avoided any feelings through the bond, shoving that need to touch it, stroke it, caress it deep down in his chest. But the pull was unmistakable this time, and it was coming from Elain.

Occasionally– in her dreams, he’d assumed– she’d touch the bond, just enough that Lucien would feel it. At first, it had been enough to drive him insane, especially knowing she’d done it unintentionally. After a while, he’d learned to mostly ignore it, to see it for what it was: purely innocent, a naive mistake, a mistaken brush against something she didn’t fully understand. But this was not that.

All sense was lost when he felt a third pull, a beckoning, a summons in his chest. His hand hit the knob and turned, his sights set on her room down the hall. He would get his conversation after all, it seemed.

The second Lucien emerged into the hall, though, he was met with the burgeoning sounds of chaos– loud voices and slamming doors, lights turning on throughout the River House. It took a moment for his mind to catch up, and he saw Elain shoot into the hall too, as though she’d been waiting right on the other side of her door. Her frantic eyes met his in the darkness as she pulled her robe tightly around her body.

She’d been waiting for him .

He didn’t have time to process as the hall filled with everyone else, the voicing cresting together as she shook her head minutely.

“What’s happening?” Lucien hadn’t had the time to change out of his clothes, trousers and cream colored undershirt rumpled but at least still on. Cassian was half naked as he bustled into the hall behind a grumbling Nesta.

“There was an explosion.” Rhys was all business, entirely on alert as he held a sleeping Nyx in his arms.

“Where?” Nesta’s sharp voice cut through the hallway, the drowse of sleep no longer roughing her voice.

“The bank of the Sidra near The Rainbow. Someone hid a cache of fireworks charmed to go off.”

“Any injuries?”

“None, and no damage reported. It was far enough from the buildings.”

“Just enough to wake everyone up,” Cassian grumbled through a yawn, an oof leaving his chest as Nesta elbowed him.

“So why are we all up?” Mor was not a morning person at her best, and her day of drinking certainly hadn’t left her at her best as she slumped against Emerie.

“I want to check it out. It might be a trap, a distraction to draw our attention away.”

“ Or , and hear me out, Rhys, it could literally just be fireworks on Solstice– Nesta , stop!”

“We can check it out, Rhys. It’s fine,” Emerie reassured. Rhys handed a sleeping Nyx off to Feyre to take to Nuala and Cerridwen, then began assigning roles as Lucien waited to be told where to go. Feyre returned, her clothes changed and her eyes alert as she approached him.

“Lucien, take Elain to the Human Lands for now?”

“Oh, Feyre, I hardly think that's–” Feyre put up a hand to silence her sister, and something flared inside Lucien before he could stop it. He hated the way they treated her, as though she were a child just like Nyx, someone to be moved and maneuvered and dealt with rather than as a functioning adult amongst them.

“It’s safer there, Elain. Please, go with Lucien.” Feyre’s eyes were pleading as she turned to her sister, and though her brows were furrowed in clear annoyance, Lucien saw the moment it smoothed out. Her pretty brown eyes met his over Feyre’s shoulder.

“Fine.” Lucien could see Feyre’s shoulders visibly relax, but the tension in Elain’s held fast. She turned on her heel and went back into her room, closing the door behind her just slightly harder than necessary. She had changed much in the past five years– her mannerisms, her fashion, and clearly the way she spoke to Lucien. But the one thing that hadn’t changed was her reactions to her sisters. She always seemed to defer to their wishes, their judgment, their expectations.

Lucien hated it.

“Thank you. I just want to know she’s safe while we look into this.” Lucien looked down at her.

“Feyre, you know your sister is older than you and also a fae, correct?” He injected some teasing into the words, but he hoped they struck a chord.

“Of course I do. But you know how Elain is.”

The words filled him with ire. Smart? Talented? Capable beyond measure? How would anyone ever know when they made practice of shoving her into carefully curated corners. It wasn’t an argument he’d win tonight.

“Of course I will take care of her, Feyre.” She nodded, looking relieved, and moved to walk back over to the group. “But she deserves more credit than I think you give her.” Feyre stopped for a moment, back still turned to Lucien, before she continued on down the hall. He sighed and turned back to the door, finding it opening slowly as he did, Elain coming through now dressed with a small bag over her shoulder. Lucien took the bag immediately, and then found himself extending his hand towards her without thinking. She barely hesitated before taking it in her own, her skin so soft against his calloused fingers that it nearly took his breath away. He winnowed them straight out before he could do anything he’d regret, their feet hitting snowy ground.

The house towered in front of them, far more room than any one of them would ever need. Despite the late hour, smoke rose in the moonlight from a number of chimneys, a soft glow emanating from within. It was much colder here than in Velaris, and though he flexed through the way his magic always felt bound when he first crossed over, he still sent a little burst of warmth Elain’s way as he gently pulled her towards the house.

Jurian and Vassa were likely long asleep, but Lucien pulled out his own key to open the front door, locking it again behind them as he offered to take her coat. She shrugged it off as she looked around the bright foyer, starry eyed, and Lucien tried not to focus every bit of his existence onto the outline of her chest.

“You live here?” Gods, her voice was so sweet. He almost forgot she’d asked him a question, fumbling to find his voice to respond.

“When I’m not in Velaris, yes.”

“It’s lovely.” The manor was atypical, one they’d built after the fall of Koschei to house Vassa away from the castle that held such poor memories for her. She’d wanted to live with Jurian, maintain a life separate from her past while continuing to rule. Lucien had helped them construct it, sturdy walls of wood and stone, sort of a mimicking of the Forest House but with brighter colors per Vassa’s request. The tapestries were all wildly well lit, the colors from within and the lamps in the hall making sure every inch of the home felt cozy and bright. They’d included unique furniture from the continent, Prythian, and the Human Lands, making a hodgepodge of colors that, rather than making it tacky, made the house seem lived in. Nearly every space had its own fireplace, and though they didn’t often entertain, they kept rooms ready and available in case. Lucien loved it here, and judging by Elain’s eyes, she had never seen anything like it. He hoped, for whatever it was worth, that it was someplace she’d like, too.

“It’s home.” He smiled as he said the words, his chest lighting up as she turned to him and smiled back. Despite how the evening had turned, she was here, with him, away from her meddling family and the pressures of Velaris. Perhaps this turn of events hadn’t been so negative after all.

“Come, let me show you your room.” Without thinking, he pressed a hand to her lower back, leading her up the mahogany staircase into the upper halls. When they reached the second story, she spun again to take it all in, the warm air rising here to make the loft even cozier as they made their way into the hall of bedrooms. Blessedly, he noted, Jurian and Vassa were silent tonight. Despite being on entirely the opposite side of the house, Lucien had taken to wearing weighted ear plugs some nights to drown out the sounds so he could sleep. It wasn’t the welcome he’d wanted for her, certainly.

Somewhat selfishly, he showed Elain to the guest room right next to his own room. He reasoned that it was for the window view of the distant mountains and not the proximity to his own quarters. He opened the door, motioned her in, and set her bag down near the dresser, sending a flame into the lantern on the nightstand, and then another into the fireplace. He tried not to preen at Elain’s impressed little gasp as she spun near the bed.

“Our home is your home. Feel free to help yourself to anything here. There’s a bathroom right across the hall from you, and I’m right next door.” He pointed lamely to the left, as though she might see through the wall to his room, to his bed, through him straight into his soul, even.

She took a step back towards him, then another, and he felt his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth. He longed to finish the evening they’d started, but he tamped the urges down as he always did. She’d had a rough night, was somewhere unfamiliar, and any promises or intent made before didn’t necessarily still apply.

Still, she stepped closer.

“I, uhm, I apologize for the night. I’m sure this isn’t how you wanted to spend your Solstice.”

“It’s not how I was imagining, certainly.” Her voice was soft, and she took a final, tentative step forward. They were close enough to touch if they reached out their arms, close enough that Lucien could feel the tension crackling the air between them. He wanted to kiss her. It would be so easy to just take a single step and close that gap. So easy to wind his fingers through her hair and pull her mouth to his.

Kiss, touch, taste, claim–

Lucien was a gentleman, and as he had for the past five years, he renewed his oath to let Elain come to him when she was ready. All the way to him.

“Goodnight, Elain.” Lucien tried not to feel gutted or hopeful at the disappointment that crossed her face as he stepped back into the low light of the hallway.

“Goodnight, Lucien.” His name on her tongue was nearly enough to send him sprinting back through the doorway. Instead, he stepped to the side, taking the two steps to his own door where he would lay awake in his bed, knowing she was mere feet away from him, and thinking about the way it had felt when she’d tugged down the bond between them.

#acotar gift exchange #gift exchange 2024 #for my new friend #elucien fic #elucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #pro elucien #holiday vibes #oops all smut and fluff

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