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my-inner-crisis · 2 years

Text

Liability

Summary: A mating bond is supposed to be sacred, right? It seems to be working out just fine for everyone but him. At the first Solstice Lucien tries to spend with the Inner Circle, just to see his mate, everything goes wrong. The second Solstice is even more of a disaster than the first one. And there seems to be no end to his descent to rock bottom. As Lucien navigates his everchanging bonds with family, old and new friends, and enemies, his thoughts race towards self-destruction, only halted by a mischievous and dangerous glimmer of hope, a thread tying him to reality. And that thread is indestructible. Is that a blessing or a curse?

The story begins at the first Solstice and follows Lucien's point of view, so some of the dialogue is directly lifted from ACOFAS and ACOSF later, with other scenes peppered in there to expand Lucien's experience as he likes to do things off the pages apparently. A little later there will also be some Elain pov :)

Chapter 1: The First Solstice

When he embarked on the journey from the human lands to the Night Court, Lucien knew that no one would be too glad to welcome him. He knew better than to let himself get lulled into false hope. The only real connection he had to the Night Court was the High Lady… Feyre, who used to be his friend. And the one he shared a connection deeper than any, his mate, Elain Archeron, the female who would rather not have him close to her. As Lucien made jump after jump, winnowing through the courts of Prythian, he was certain this would not be a pleasant visit.

He knew exactly why he subjected himself to this painful experience. Some things overrode his common sense and discipline. His desire to just see Elain was one of those things, apparently. Solstice wasn’t only a Night Court celebration, it was also Feyre’s birthday, so he had the excuse to attend. As he made the last jump, winnowing into the outskirts of the city, Lucien squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. He could at least look at her, maybe start up some conversation, maybe, maybe he could warm up to her a bit. Before letting his traitorous mind wander down that road of possibilities, Lucien made his way to the townhouse where Feyre’s family and friends would undoubtedly be present already. He checked the presents he had picked out, to make sure they survived the winnowing without damage. He was stalling, if he was honest with himself, he knew that. But there wasn’t much to do on the High Lord’s doorstep before someone would notice him and embarrass him before this ordeal would even begin.

So, he knocked. He could already hear chatter coming from the other side of the door and he knew exactly who he’d find there. Feyre and… her. The door swung open and there she was, those beautiful doe eyes bright and excited, right until she realized who was standing before her. Then almost immediately the light left those rich brown eyes and Lucien couldn’t think to do anything but murmur a greeting.

“Happy Solstice,” he said with a tight smile, to get ahead of the awkward staring contest before it would begin.

From the very start, this was not going well and Lucien knew it. Feyre, flanked by Elain, led him into a sitting room where he aimed for an armchair. That was his safest option, it would not force Elain to sit by him on the couch and he would not have to face the humiliation and hurt as his mate would do her best to occupy a seat not even close to him in case he took a space appropriate for two. Feyre sat in the armchair next to his, and, of course, Elain quickly settled into the couch that was left free this way. Just like he had expected.

“You look well,” said Feyre and Lucien held onto the lifeline she had thrown his way. “You as well,” he commented as he extended his hands towards the fire to warm up a bit. His eyes, one of gold and one of russet, shifted towards Elain for only a moment as he added, “Both of you.”

In all his days, of which had been many, this was the mellowest and most boring compliment he had ever given a female. A babe and an old hag could both hear it, no one would bat an eyelash. Yet he thought carefully about saying it, in case it made Elain uncomfortable. He didn’t dare look at her for longer, not when she barely acknowledged him with a small nod and Feyre was watching his every move like a hawk. As if he’d harm his mate in any way. Lucien gritted his teeth and did his best to keep his eyes on Feyre who, Mother bless her soul, was at least attempting to make conversation.

“You brought presents,” she commented and Lucien couldn’t help but notice how empty and ridiculous this discussion was. What would be her next attempt, narrating what clothes he was wearing? Not that you’re adding much to this situation, he chided himself internally as he answered, “It’s Solstice tradition here, isn’t it?”

A flicker of emotion ran through Feyre’s eyes before she continued, “You’re welcome to stay for the night.”

It took a lot of self-control for him to not just point at the two females in his company and ask Am I? But he kept his snide remarks to himself and lowered his hands into his lap, leaning back in his chair to at least convey some sort of relaxed position. To at least try to act like he wasn’t about to crawl out of his skin with every passing second.

“Thank you, but I have other plans,” he said as casually as he could instead. He knew that was the only present Elain truly needed from him. To just disappear. As soon as he had entered the house, barely a few moments ago, he knew there would be no staying around, not for longer than what was polite, which would be an hour at most. Still, the ache settled deep into his chest as he watched from the corner of his eye that Elain was relieved that he announced his intentions to leave. That pain was always around, ever since that bond snapped into place. His entire body, mind, and soul were yearning for her in ways he hadn’t experienced before. With Jesminda, things had never been like this. How was this the mating bond he was given, and not the love he had shared with her? Sometimes he couldn’t help but wonder if the Cauldron was particularly angry with him, or maybe he had offended the Mother somewhere along the way.

“Where are you going?” Feyre asked, adamant to keep his attention on her, not that it would matter. Every single muscle in his body was fighting a battle to keep away from Elain, to look anywhere else, to leave her be, in spite of his heart yearning for the briefest of contact with her. It was an unbearable battle, and Lucien was losing it on all fronts.

“I…” He began to formulate his response. It was ridiculous to think Elain would be jealous, but it still seemed wrong to explain his living situation in her presence. Things got complicated in the last few months, especially after Feyre, ever the trailblazer, had destroyed his home and court. “I’ve been at the Spring Court every now and then. But if I’m not here in Velaris, I’ve mostly been staying with Jurian. And Vassa.” He admitted, keeping his eyes on Feyre as he spoke. It was not an ideal situation by a longshot, but it was all he had, for now. And the humans - they were true friends, for now. They welcomed him and treated him well enough, he didn’t have to pretend, they didn’t expect power or influence from him.

“Really? Where?” Feyre asked indignantly, as though she didn’t approve of Lucien’s choices. You helped me get there, Lucien thought to himself but, once again, he kept his mouth shut. He’d lost an eye for his venomous tongue before. And now he was losing his mate because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. At least he was learning.

“There’s an old manor house in the southeast, in the humans’ territory. Jurian and Vassa were… gifted it.” He explained quietly, keeping his eyes on Feyre. It didn’t take a spymaster to read between the lines. Elain must have already figured out whose place Lucien was squatting in at the moment.

“Rhys mentioned that they were still in Prythian. I didn’t realize it was such a permanent base.”

“For now,” Lucien nodded, pressing his lips together. “While things are sorted out.” After that, when Vassa finally got her kingdom back, and took Jurian with her, he didn’t know where his life would continue. What part of the world would take him in? He had no desire to stay in Graysen’s decrepit manor forever.

Feyre seemed set on making conversation about his situation, and the lives of those connected to him. Lucien was certain that Elain didn’t care about any of it, but he couldn’t just ask her things, so he let Feyre lead the line of questioning. He would speak when spoken to.

“How are they - Jurian and Vassa?”

“Jurian… thank the Cauldron for him,” said Lucien, running his fingers through his hair just to do something with his hands. “He’s keeping everything running. I think he’d have been crowned king by now if it wasn’t for Vassa.” He couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips as he continued. “She’s doing well enough. Savoring every second of her temporary freedom.”

“She and Jurian are getting along?” Lucien could tell Feyre felt some responsibility towards the human queen who pleaded for her help. He knew not much was being done to aid her - not much could be done. He welcomed the concern etched in Feyre’s eyes at least. If anyone could help her, it would probably be Feyre, or her gang of invincible and scary friends. He considered the High Lady’s question carefully, pursing his lips in thought.

“Vassa and Jurian are two sides of the same coin. Mercifully, their vision for the future of the human territories is mostly aligned. But the methods on how to attain that…” He murmured thoughtfully. His friends were bickering, constantly, but he knew better than to mistake it for true vitriol. Their goals were the same and he knew they would work together. Lucien was no fool, he was also certain that his two human companions shared a strong attraction for one another, the bickering… it was part of it. There was a time not far in the future when he would be yet another third wheel next to yet another couple. He frowned as he carefully chanced a glace towards Elain, his mate, who seemed utterly and completely uninterested in any of this. He couldn’t hide his wince as he forced his gaze back to Feyre instead.

“This isn’t very Solstice-like talk,” he said, wrecking his brain to ask a question that would involve Elain more. There was no point in trying to rope her into conversation, he knew that, and so did Feyre. And, like clockwork, his mate shot to her feet. “I should get refreshments,” she announced, most definitely trying to remove herself from his presence.

“No need to trouble yourself. I’m─”, he didn’t get to finish that sentence. Elain was already slipping out the door, leaving only her lingering scent of jasmine and honey. Lucien inhaled sharply, unsure if he was doing it to keep his cool or to savor her scent for a moment, as it was the only thing he could do without scaring her. Once her footsteps were no longer audible, he slumped back into the armchair. Feyre wasn’t much of a concern, she had seen him in much worse shape already. He would not slump in front of his mate, but her sister… Lucien doubted she cared much about his appearance. “How is she?” He asked silently.

“Better,” Feyre answered in an attempt to soothe him. “She makes no mention of her abilities. If they remain.”

They remained. Lucien was sure of it. Maybe she had no more visions for now, but he suspected that Elain would rather never have another vision in her immortal life, not only due to their terrifying nature, but because she wished to be human. To stay with that scum of a human being who had abandoned her so quickly. “Good. But is she still…” He had to contain his anger, he did not want Feyre to see him in such a state ─ not when it could be misinterpreted as possessiveness and cruelty. A muscle ticked in his jaw as he pressed his teeth together, gathering himself before asking once more. “Does she still mourn him?”

“She was deeply in love with him, Lucien,” Feyre answered after some thought, not sparing any of the details. Not that he couldn’t guess that much. He had lost the person he loved as well, under very different circumstances. Even so, Lucien assumed he shared some kinship with his mate over those sentiments. He was trying his best to stay calm, his fingers dug into the plush of the armchair as he leaned back. How could that… that man hurt his mate so? How could he do that to her and walk away as though nothing was wrong in the world?

“It has only been a few months. Graysen made it clear that the engagement is ended, but it might take her a while longer to move past it,” Feyre was ramlbing, explaining Elain’s feelings, trying to soothe his anger. His eyes flashed as he looked at her, his teeth gritted. He thought about explaining himself, about telling her why he was angry, but he wasn’t so sure that he could. “He’s as fine a prick as any I’ve ever encountered,” he muttered instead, schooling his features into something that hopefully conveyed a level of calmness.

Feyre watched him, surprise etching into her face. “I would agree with you on that. But remember that they were engaged. Give her time to accept it,” she offered the useless advice, as if Lucien was doing anything but giving her time. Time she didn’t need or want. Bitterness quickly flooded his thoughts and, before he knew it, his traitorous mouth was once again blabbing. “To accept a life shackled to me?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Feyre answered defensively, and Lucien sort of knew that too. Or at least suspected the more charitable option coming from the High Lady. But Elain… she most definitely thought she had been shackled to him.

“She wants nothing to do with me,” he murmured, hoping that his voice didn’t convey as much of that pathetic desperation he felt.

“Would you, if your positions were reversed?” Feyre didn’t pull her punches. She was right too. Of course Elain wanted nothing to do with him. Of course he somehow started off their entire mated existence at the worst possible time, on the wrong side, easily blamed for everything ─ losing her love, her human existence, everything she ever wanted. He wasn’t surprised that she hated him. He hated himself for many things as well. Chuck it to the end of the list, he thought bitterly as Feyre spoke up once again.

“After Solstice wraps up, why don’t you come stay for a week or two? Not in your apartment, I mean. Here, at the town house.”

“And do what?” Lucien asked and he could hear the indignant tone in his own voice. Annoyed, strained, on edge. Perfect…

“Spend time with her.”

What a laughable idea, spend time with her. Certainly Feyre was joking to even suggest that? But her expression seemed sincere, even though she most likely knew this would not go so well. “I don’t think she’ll tolerate two minutes alone with me, so forget about two weeks,” he growled helplessly, staring at the fire to cover up at least some of the emotion he couldn’t hide.

“I’d hoped that when you rented the apartment, it meant you would come work here. With us. Be our human emissary,” Feyre said, pulling his thoughts away from the desperation he was chewing over internally.

“Am I not doing that now?” He arched a brow. “Am I not sending twice-weekly reports to your spymaster?”

“You could live here, is all I’m saying. Truly live here, stay in Velaris for longer than a few days at a time. We could get you nicer quarters─”

He shot to his feet. He couldn’t stand it. He could withstand a lot of things, but pity, that he could not. “I don’t need your charity.”

Feyre didn’t back down because why would she ever? She got up as well, staring him down with the gaze of a powerful female comfortable on her throne, in her position. “Bur Jurian and Vassa’s is fine?” She shot back, once again pulling no punches.

“You’d be surprised to see how the three of us get along,” he answered with a frown. Jurian and Vassa’s friendship was invaluable to him. It was the only shot at normalcy he had left.

“So you’d rather stay with them?” Feyre asked irritably, which only fueled the fire in his chest.

“I’m not staying with them. The manor is ours,” he growled, and there that feeling was, once again. He needed to winnow on top of some mountain and maybe scream for an hour.

“Interesting.”

“What is,” he asked, but it wasn’t even a question, it was a challenge. Come on then, sharpen that tongue of yours, cut me where it hurts, he thought. He knew Feyre well enough to know that whatever was about to leave her lips would be bordering on cruel.

“That you now feel more comfortable with humans than with the High Fae. If you ask me─”

“I’m not.” There was no stopping her now, not when she became heated. A High Lady, based on power and influence certainly, but diplomacy? That was not her strongsuit.

“It seems like you’ve decided to fall in with two people without homes of their own as well.”

And there it was. That knife that cut deeper than flesh, deeper than bone. Lucien just stared at her, reigning in his thoughts, his vicious snarls, his need to tell her to go fuck herself. He schooled his temper, stoked the fire in his chest until it was barely a simmer before he opened his mouth. “Happy Solstice to you, Feyre.”

With that he turned, ready to leave this whole situation behind for another while, but Feyre’s hand was gripping his arm, so he stopped. Maybe she would apologize for… something. “I didn’t mean that. You have a home here. If you want it,” she said, offering him a tentative chance for friendship. His gaze passed her as he looked into the sitting room and the foyer beyond, the place that was beautiful, tasteful, but not welcoming whatsoever, despite the High Lady’s offer. “The Band of Exiles,” he murmured silently.

“The what?”

“That’s what we call ourselves. The Band of Exiles.” It was a stupid little name they gave their group of misfits, a queen without a throne, a human whose entire life, everyone he knew was six feet under, and himself, a male hounded by fate, outside of the realm of the Fae, away from the family that didn’t want him, the friends he lost, and his mate, the one meant for him, who also, obviously, didn’t want him.

“You have a name for yourselves.” He could hear the judgement in her tone. He only nodded.

“Jurian isn’t an exile.”

“Jurian’s kingdom is nothing but dust and half-forgotten memory, his people long scattered and absorbed into territories. He can call himself whatever he likes,” he muttered defensively. He didn’t know why, that manor in the human lands was certainly not a dream living situation, but he felt the need to protect the place he called home now.

“And what, exactly, does this Band of Exiles plan to do? Host events? Organize party-planning committees?”

Lucien narrowed his eyes, one of russet, and one of gold, clicking and whirring as he stared at Feyre. “You can be as much of an asshole as that mate of yours, you know that?”

“I’m sorry,” came the apology. “I just─”

“I don’t have anywhere else to go,” you idiot, he wanted to add. He didn’t. Before she could offer Velaris up once again or say something self-righteous and self-serving, he continued. “You ruined any chance I have of going back to Spring. Not to Tamlin, but to the court beyond his house. Everyone either still believes the lies you spun or they believe me complicit in your deceit. And as for here…” He finally shook off the grip she still had on his arm. This conversation was over. He needed to get out of here. “I can’t stand to be in the same room as her for more than two minuted. I can’t stand to be in this court and have your mate pay for the very clothes on my back.”

Feyre’s eyes drifted to the jacket he was wearing. Finally, it seemed to click in her mind.

“Tamlin sent it to our manor yesterday,” Lucien hissed, his temper getting the better of him once again. He had lost a home once, this was the second time, and it hurt the same way now too. “My clothes. My belongings. All of it. He had it sent from the Spring Court and dumped on the doorstep.” It had been humiliating and final, to pick up his belongings, weapons, clothing, blankets, pelts, his life in the second court he called his home. Jurian didn’t comment on it, but simply helped him haul all the stuff he had accumulated over the years, into the room he now had. The message was clear ─ he abandoned Tamlin for Feyre and Rhysand’s court, and that meant their friendship was over, he was no longer welcome. He couldn’t just stay in a cottage in a village in Spring if the High Lord removed all of his belongings from there, as if he had never even been there. Vassa had tried to console him the night before, mercifully trying to help him unpack everything and fit it nicely in his room. He didn’t even have time to find a place for most of his things.

“Why?”

You really dug deep to ask that question, Feyre, he thought to himself, hoping that the High Lady, or his mate for that matter, wasn’t lurking in his head at this very moment. “Perhaps it had something to do with your mate’s visit the other day,” he suggested with a hiss.

“Rhys didn’t involve you in that.” Defend him with all of your might, Feyre, Rhysand has never done one wrong thing in his long life, he thought bitterly. To think him and Feyre had been good friends before all of this went down.

“He might as well have. Whatever he said or did, Tamlin decided to remain in solitude,” he explained as calmly as he could. His russet eye darkened as he added, “Your mate should have known better than to kick a downed male.”

“I can’t say I’m particularly sorry that he did.” Fair. She needn’t be sorry for Tamlin, not after the way he had treated her. But making him an enemy was shortsighted.

“You will need Tamlin as an ally before the dust has settled. Tread carefully,” he warned, although he knew his advice fell on deaf ears. That was also unsurprisingly common in his life.

“My business with him is done.”

“Yours might be, but Rhys’s isn’t. And you’d do well to remind your mate of that fact,” he muttered helplessly. This conversation wasn’t going anywhere. Especially not when Feyre’s eyes turned from him towards nothing, clearly listening to her mate’s voice in her head. Now that there were two daemati in his presence, Lucien became more aware of their communication. He stood there impatiently for a couple moments, blinking at Feyre. “Checking in?” he asked quietly. He was ready to leave this hellhole for a long, long time.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lied to his face, putting on a mask of boredom that would’ve made Lucien laugh had it not been such a tense situation. Maybe that fooled someone else, but he knew her as a silly little human stealing butter knives to defend herself. And this attempt to conceal the conversation she was having behind his back ─ or behind his mind ─ was laughable.

“The bigger box is for you. The smaller one is for her.” Her eyes drifted towards the neatly wrapped presents in the sitting room and Lucien took no chances, he didn’t wait until she would look back. He winnowed out of there as fast as he could.

When he arrived back, the sun was still shining over the human lands, so Vassa was nowhere to be found. As a firebird, she usually flew and flew across the lands, which left him Jurian for company. Jurian was always working on something. The humans didn’t particularly like Lucien so he tried to stay out of their business and limit his interactions to Jurian directly. Wherever they went, he stuck out like a sore thumb ─ his ears were a dead giveaway, of course. But so was his long red hair, sometimes tied back, sometimes braided in a fashion the humans did not partake in. Then there was his mechanical eye and the mauled face, the ugly scar from his left brow all the way down to his jaw. He was not only fae, he was a particularly weird-looking one too, especially to the human eye. He had offered his help and services, so the humans, led by the terrible Lord Nolan and his equally terrible son, Graysen, found it in themselves to let Lucien stick around, at least as protection. His credibility was earned only due to Vassa and Jurian’s endorsement. And possibly due to the self-control. Even though news had traveled fast and the humans were well aware of Graysen’s betrothed turning into a High Fae and becoming mated to Lucien, he kept his cool, he didn’t threaten or scare the man… not too much anyway. He was scared enough on his own, Lucien didn’t need to add more to it.

As he stepped into the manor, his eyes drifted over to some of his belongings still wrapped up messily in the corridor. He didn’t bother looking at them for too long as he stepped into the kitchen. There were no servants around. A human girl came over every now and then to express her gratitude towards the two humans helping her village along. She cleaned, sometimes she cooked, she steered clear of the High Fae lurking in the house. He may have lost an eye, but Lucien only needed one to see her movements turning apprehensive when he stepped into the same room.

He enjoyed the quiet for now. The human lands were particularly unforgiving during winter, there was not much to eat or grow, not without magic. So naturally, Lucien busied himself with hunting and fishing whenever he had time to make himself useful. Vassa had made a habit of giving large quantities to the humans in need. At least that gesture felt useful. It also solidified Vassa as a good queen, as someone the humans wanted to look up to and accept. Even though her days off the continent were numbered, she couldn’t help but think about the future and what prospects she had, and Lucien hoped she would one day see the fruits of her labor here, in these small human settlements.

He welcomed the silence of the kitchen and plopped down on a chair, rubbing his temples to somehow trick his mind to settle. Everything about his visit went terribly. From the moment he stepped in, to the moment he winnowed back home, none of it went well. Elain… he barely knew her, but all of his instincts were screaming at him to at least try. He had nothing to offer, his mere existence had only taken from her. Maybe Graysen would have considered her as a potential wife if she hadn’t been shackled to a male she didn’t want. And the optics of the situation with Tamlin… not good. Lucien knew that and he cursed himself every day for his blabbing. If only he had kept his mouth shut… If only he had made that announcement later, or never. Maybe then he would have had a chance. This was a disaster, like the rest of his pitiful existence. In such quiet moments, when he had no one to speak to, his mind let itself rush into darkness, to whine and whimper and make a scene. Not out loud, never out loud. He didn’t need anyone’s charity or pity, he couldn’t stand to see it. Sometimes he even grew tired of his own whining, as if that was a becoming way to act in any situation. So, he took a deep breath, got to his feet and took an apple from the pantry just as Jurian strode in.

“You look well and truly miserable,” he observed, his eyes sliding over him. A quick once-over was enough to gather all the information he needed. “Your mate hates you, the Inner Circle are annoying and Feyre also didn’t help?”

Lucien quirked an eyebrow. “Is it that obvious?”

“You’re sulking in the kitchen.”

“I’m not sulking,” he growled defensively which earned him a chuckle from Jurian. “Fine. I am sulking. I didn’t even meet anyone. Just Elain and Feyre.”

“And that was enough to make you run back to us, mere humans, with your foxy tail between your legs?” Jurian questioned, arching his brow in amusement.

“I’m glad you find this situation so utterly hilarious, but I assure you, it is not,” he shot back, but a smile tugged at his lips nonetheless. His friend kept teasing him, making light of the situation and maybe that was what he needed. Jurian had his fair share of heartache ─ he lost his lover to another, and that was enough to forge an understanding between the two of them.

“I know you have trouble accepting them, and trust me, I get that,” Jurian hummed, taking a seat at the table and extending his legs lazily. “But I knew Rhysand before you were even born. He is a good High Lord, I’m certain he is a good ally to us as well. Try not to let his pompous asshole act deter you from his true intentions. And his mate… two sides of the same coin, right? I’m sure she can be just like him. Your own mate?”

“What about her?”

“Don’t ask me about women, Lucien. I have a horrible track record,” he murmured darkly before a laugh escaped his lips.

“You seem to be doing well for yourself now, considering that you were an eye for 500 years,” Luicen pointed out with an amused smile.

“Maybe that’s why fate has pushed us together. You are missing an eye, I was an eye for a good few hundred years… the perfect match.”

“So, you’re ditching Vassa for the next closest redhead around?” Lucien arched a brow, leaning back in his chair. He welcomed the jokes and the ridiculous banter. Much better than his pained thoughts.

“I don’t think Vassa has any interest in me. Not yet anyway.”

“That’s the spirit,” Lucien hummed playfully, happy to keep his thoughts focused on someone else for now.

However, that changed as soon as the sun set and Vassa stepped through the door, a relieved sigh leaving her lips. “You two look… drunk,” she commented once she found Jurian and Lucien in the sitting room. Jurian’s eyes were glazed over but Lucien couldn’t brag about sobriety either as he waved to the queen, raising his half-empty whiskey glass to salute her.

“Come join the pity party,” came the invitation and Vassa didn’t need much more information to understand the situation. She sat down and snatched the bottle from Jurian, downing a few swigs quickly.

“That’s not very queenly of you,” Jurian tutted.

“I need to catch up, a fox and an eye rolling around can drink during the day. A firebird seemingly cannot.”

Lucien only smiled at his friends, happy to just listen to them bicker. They did a stellar job of keeping his mind preoccupied with anything but his mate, and for now, that was what Lucien needed the most.

She was having a bad dream, he knew it. It had happened before. It usually woke him up, but he couldn’t actually see or understand what it was. It happened sometimes, in the middle of the night, so Lucien guessed it was a nightmare. She must have been unconscious to reach towards that bond, she wouldn’t do it while she was awake. The distress skittering across that thread of light between their souls pulled him from his own dreams and all Lucien wished for was to clamp down on his end of the bond whenever he was having nightmares. No one needed to be subjected to the demons torturing him in the middle of the night.

This was the first time since that damned winter day on Solstice. Elain hadn’t said a word to him, other than what was absolutely necessary. He hadn’t pushed. Since then he could only sense her through that bond if he focused, but he never dared to tug on the thread, to connect more. It seemed ridiculous. The mating bond snapped into place immediately, as soon as they locked eyes. It was such a strong pull… she had felt it too, Lucien was certain of it. Back then the feelings had rushed to the surface even before she had been dunked into the cauldron. All he had wanted to do was to help her. Now… now he knew he should’ve kept his mouth shut.

She wasn’t awake yet, Lucien could tell. Her desperation, the distress, it was seeping into his own soul, into his own thoughts. She was struggling, she needed to wake up, or to be led away from her nightmare towards something calmer. Lucien pinched the bridge of his nose as he considered his options, but he couldn’t stay idly by while she was struggling. That was not an option. So he settled back into his bed and closed his eyes, focusing on the bright thread between them. He didn’t really know what he was doing but he kept his attention on the thread, concentrating his feelings on something calm. He thought about the beautiful villages of the Spring Court, surrounded by lush greenery and blooming flowers, the serenity of the meadow in the Autumn Court where he spent so much of his youth learning how to shoot targets with the bow and arrow, listening to the swift brook behind him, the freeing and tranquil emotions he associated with these memories. He was no daemati, he couldn’t wake his mate up by speaking in her mind, but maybe… possibly… if he focused on that thread between their souls, perhaps the peaceful and calm emotions would soothe her.

Not much time passed, maybe five minutes, maybe ten, but not long after Lucien had started this soothing exercise, Elain’s side of the bond calmed, no signs of fright were coming towards him anymore. He couldn’t be certain, there would not be confirmation anytime soon, but he could hope that it was his doing, that her dreams had turned gentler due to his own actions. He could only hope, even if she would never know.

Lucien sighed softly and settled into his own bed once again, the face of his mate, unsurprisingly, slipping into view. It was ridiculous, really. He barely knew her, he couldn’t say she was too kind to him, and despite all of that, that bond seemed sacred, strong, so strong that it had snapped into place the moment they first locked eyes. It was a cruel twist of fate that it didn’t seem like a good match, not for Elain anyway. He knew it was a game of patience, and maybe patience would prevail. Maybe in a year, or maybe in hundreds. But seeing that face just for a moment, even in the most uncomfortable situation… it was worth it. And for now, as Lucien tried to picture her laughing and enjoying herself, being happy, looking serene and beautiful by a cottage with a large garden for her own pleasure… for now it was enough.

“Calanmai is approaching.”

A dismissive growl.

“I do not wish to do it in your stead now, Tam, I don’t think I even can. I’m… you know why I can’t,” Lucien spoke to the beast, his friend who hadn’t turned back to his High Fae form in months. Ever since he had sent his belongings to the manor, Lucien had been careful to approach him. There were times when the beast chased him, never to really catch him, but to make him go away, to leave him wallow in a pit of depression, in solitude.

“You know you need to do it to keep the magic going, it’s the High Lord’s duty.”

Another growl.

“I’m starting to get tired of this impudence, honestly, pull yourself together to at least talk to me. Or you want Rhysand to visit you instead?” Lucien snapped. That was not the right thing to say, he knew that, but to his surprise, Tamlin’s claws moved backward and soon enough the male was standing in front of him, naked, dirty and bloody.

“Tell your new master that the High Lord of the Spring Court knows how its magic works and doesn’t need a messenger to remind him,” he spoke, his voice hoarse, as though he hadn’t used it in a while.

“It’s good to see you back, even though I don’t appreciate all the uncovered skin. I’m starting to miss the fur,” Lucien joked to keep himself from blowing out a breath of relief. He didn’t need the rest of his face slashed by some powerful asshole with vengeance on his mind. But, instead of preparing punches, Tamlin reached for a pair of pants and soon enough he was at least half-decent.

“I’ll do what needs to be done. I know you won’t be getting it up for anyone but that pretty little mate of yours, the one who hates you.”

“I most definitely miss the beast already,” Lucien shot back, but he swallowed his pride, and his anger, to maybe lead the disgraced High Lord of Spring toward a path that was beneficial for everyone.

“You keep spending time with those humans and lurking around my home and you’ll lose her to an overgrown bat too, Lucien. I didn’t lose a mate…” He pointed towards the state of the manor, swallowed by thorns and devastation. The message was clear. Look what losing the one I loved did to me. Surely, the entire thing with Tamlin and Feyre had been way too complicated, and they had actually been given time to fall in love. Lucien… he barely knew Elain. But the thought of losing that shimmering, glinting thread, that bond that tied their soul together… Lucien knew that it would bring him to his knees any day.

Tamlin looked around, as if he was remembering something, but he only stalked towards the large, once ornate dining table was covered with animal bones, pushing them off it with a swift pulse of his power, before grabbing a bottle of wine from a cupboard, miraculously both still intact. He took a swig, then handed the bottle to Lucien, not bothering to find glasses.

“In Hybern… how’d you do it?” The question came out of nowhere. Lucien took a swig of the wine.

“Do what?”

“When that mate of yours… when she was made.”

“How’d I do what?” Lucien snarled, anger bubbling up in his chest. That fire, always alight, always bright in his heart, was ready to turn into something deadly.

“Calm down, loverboy,” Tamlin shot back, downing a considerable amount of the wine. “When Hybern had us bound with his magic, when Elain was dunked in the Cauldron… how’d you do it?”

Lucien’s temper was starting to get the better of him. How was he supposed to explain to Rhysand that after months of no results, months of the beast just growling and chasing him away, when he finally turned back, he burned his friend to the ground, until nothing was left of him? That’d be too much work. “What are you even talking about?!”

“You know, when your pretty little mate was on the ground there, in that see-through wet nightgown…” A snarl escaped Lucien’s lips but Tamlin dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “You did something. You were just as bound as I was, Lucien. As far as I am aware, Beron, or your mother, did not bless you with strength like mine. And it was not strength that did what you did.”

“What are you on about, you insufferable bastard?” Lucien growled, his temper, once again, getting the better of him.

“You broke those bindings, idiot. How? How’d you manage to do it? Was it just your mated instinct propelling you forward?” Tamlin’s eyebrow shot up, his green eyes glinting in the dim room. “But it was magic… not just your inner love for your mate, was it? It flashed, white, and you somehow cut through those magical bindings, without much effort at all. So tell me, Lucien Vanserra, how did you do it?”

His last name, the one Tamlin knew he hated, thrown around with such… purpose. Lucien didn’t think he understood. “I don’t know what you’re talking about… I just… I did it.”

“You didn’t even realize it, did you?”

And it was the truth, he certainly had not realized it, not when he broke free, and not after. Tamlin hummed thoughtfully before finishing off the bottle with a few large gulps, and then suddenly the beast was back, stalking away from Lucien.

#elucien #elain x lucien #lucien x elain #pro elucien #elucien fic #elucien fanfiction #i'm sorry lol #i hope this isn't a mess #there's a bit of jassian in there #i love lulu he'll be happy in the end #also tamlin makes an appearance?#that's suspicious that's weird #there's barely any elucien going on YET #it's coming i swear #there’s a bit of jassa in there

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