#lucien a blanche

[undeadbard]

Ring ring! What could they possibly be discussing?? they're talking shit

Lucien (top left) by @silverofthedragons Valerie (top right) by @mysticmunchies

[olenvasynyt]

Day 7 of Elucien Week: Alternate Universe

Red Lucien and La Dame Blanche

“I love you, a nighean donn. I have loved ye from the moment I saw ye, I will love ye ’til time itself is done, and so long as you are by my side, I am well pleased wi’ the world.”

Ever since I found out Lucien is inspired by Jamie from Outlander I always wanted to see Lucien in a kilt but NO ONE HAS DONE IT so I took matters into my own hands. Here is Lucien and Elain as Jamie and Claire Fraser from Outlander!

Thank you @elucienweekofficial for hosting this amazing week!

[throneofsmut]

Bound In Flames - Part 8

Eris Vanserra × Archeron-Sister-Reader || WC: 4.8k || Warnings: Smut

Summary: Feyre and her younger sister go hunting in the forest behind their family's cottage and go through life changing experiences.

A/N: This part has to do with calanmai which is basically a faerie fuck fest. So if you guys are just as sick and depraved as I am you’ll eat this shit up.

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“Eris, I swear to the Mother if you hurt her-“ Lucien snarled, baring his teeth, as he pushed the tip of his dagger deeper into Eris’s porcelain skin. A droplet of crimson red blood sliding down the column of his throat.

The sight of it had you moving on instinct.

In seconds you had moved away from the dagger Eris had pressed against your throat, disarming Lucien and pressing his own dagger against the sun tanned skin of his throat. Fae—mating—instincts coming to the surface, you growled and then whispered two words deathly soft into Lucien’s ear, “Watch It.” You pulled back, still keeping the blade against his throat and looked at him. His face had blanched and his eyes were wide with fear or shock, you weren’t sure.

You blinked once and saw yourself through his eyes and blinked again and you were looking at him through your own eyes again. His eyes were still wide, but now you knew it was mostly fear. He knew you wouldn’t actually kill him, though he knew you definitely could if you wanted to by the way you had the knife angled at his throat.

Lucien had finally realized it for the first time in that moment, that you weren’t all talk, that you would and could kill him. And you scoffed. Flipping the dagger in your hand so the handle was facing him, “Enjoy the Rite,” handing it back to him.

He took it and sheathed it.

Behind you Eris chuckled in amusement. Though not at his little brother but at your antics. Turning around to face him, you took one step towards him, but stopped. He had a look in his eyes as he took you, one that you couldn’t describe, “What?”

He shook his head softly, “Nothing,” but you noted the way his pupils dilated when his eyes met yours again. Then he held out his hand for you to take. A silent invitation.

Before you could even take a step Lucien’s hand was gripping your arm and a growl ripped its way out of Eris’s throat—possessive and protective. Your eyes never left your mate, not even as he glared at his brother. Lucien sighed once he realized you weren’t going to look at him, “I know I can’t stop you so. . . be careful, Y/n. He’s not safe.” But you didn’t want safe, you wanted him. Eris.

You still didn’t look at Lucien as you ripped your arm free of his hold, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Lucien. Enjoy the rite.” Your voice sounding sharper than you intended, but this would likely be the only night you would have with Eris, your mate, and you were wasting time. You made your way towards Eris and he was still glaring at his youngest brother when you finally stood before him.

He was the most beautiful male you have ever seen. Dressed in Autumn Court colors, his clothes—all dark wine red with gold threading, all finely made—cut close enough to his body that you could see how magnificent he was. Anyone with eyes could see that by the way they clung to his muscular body. Eris wasn’t bulky with muscles he was more so lean. His red shoulder length hair dancing in the night spring breeze like living flames. And his amber eyes seemed to be gifts from the sun as they both glowed the same shade of gold.

You were standing so close that you could feel the heat radiating off his body and his scent. His scent was intoxicating—cedar, citrus and crackling fires— invading all of your senses and before you could even stop yourself you were in his arms. He was so tall that you had to stand on the tips of your toes to wrap your arms around his neck. Not even a second later you felt his arms immediately wrap around your waist, holding you to him.

One second you were standing in fields of the Spring Court, the next the world seemed to fold in on itself as you winnowed to a cabin. Your body wanted to stay near him but the years of training that were drilled into you had you pulling away taking in your surroundings. Eris seemed to still as you looked around, “Where are we ?” You asked quietly.

“My home away from home.”

You only nodded your head, letting him know you had heard him as you continued to look around. The cabin itself was beautiful; floor to ceiling mahogany and autumn court color and style furnishings. It was very much Eris. The small living room had the fire place going but you heard wood crackling from the back of the cabin. Tilting your head so you could look past your mates broad shoulders, what looked like a bedroom door was open and just past it in the room was a bookshelf. A well stocked bookshelf. Eris cleared his throat, voice tight, “Do you like it?”

You looked at him and gave him a sweet smile, “I like it.”

He threw his head back and laughed and you realized you had never heard a sound so beautiful before. Eris was still laughing when he stepped closer to you, and you didn’t back away this time, as he cupped your face in his large hands. Then he leaned down so close that if he spoke your lips would brush against each other. . . and he did. One word.

“Liar.”

He took a step back and it was your turn to laugh, “I’m not lying,” you said in between giggles.

“All right, fine. You like it but. . .”

“But, my favorite color is blue and it’s just a lot of red, orange and yellow everywhere.”

He bowed deeply at the waist—mockingly, playfully—“I apologize, little flame, that our cabin is not up to your standards. I vow that the next time you see it will be to your liking.” Eris stood back up to his full height wearing a teasing smile on his face.

You wanted to roll your eyes at his theatrics and tell him to shut up, but instead you only asked, “Our?”

“Our.” He affirmed.

You blinked at him, brows furrowed, “Why?”

“What belongs to me, belongs to my mate. What’s mine is yours, little flame.” Eris said matter of factly.

“About that. . . how did you find out we were mates?”

“You.”

“Me?” He nodded his head, “Eris I need a little more than that.”

He took a step forward until he was right in front of you and you had to crane your neck back to meet his eyes. Then he lifted his right hand that was adorned in gold rings and tucked your hair behind your left ear. “Since last winter, when you made it over the wall, I’ve been dreaming of you every night. And every morning since then I’ve had the same nightmare.”

“What nightmare?” Your voice was barely more than a whisper.

“You’re not by my side when I wake up,” he breathed.

You didn’t miss the way he was looking at you, like he was drinking in the fact that you were still here. That you were actually here and you realized you were doing the same thing.

You don’t know how much time passed before he spoke again, “How did you find out?”

“The Suriel told me.”

His brows furrowed, “You ensnared a Suriel?”

“No, he found me.”

This time his eyes narrowed and he blinked, “The Suriel found you and told you?” He sounded skeptical.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“They’re an old friend,” you shrugged.

Eris shook his head as he gave you a broad smile, “My mate is friends with one of the Suriel.”

You nodded your head, “Mhmm.”

“What did the Suriel tell you?”

Your eyes flickered between his amber eyes and then settled on the crackling fire beside you, “That like me, my mate has fire in their blood and we would find each other on Calanmai. You’re the heir to the Autumn Court. The both of us bound in flames. Bound to each other.” Your eyes met gold ones again, “That we have always been meant to burn together." You didn’t tell him that the Suriel also said you were heir to Spring. You couldn’t tell anyone, not yet.

“How did you know I was your mate and not Lucien?” You didn’t, not for sure. Lucien was powerful enough in his own right to be a High Lord’s heir. You could feel it.

“I felt a tugging in my gut — in my chest a couple times like there was a string inside of me and when I saw you it felt warm like it was glowing,” You smiled softly because that same feeling hadn’t gone away yet.

Eris’s eyes tracked your lips movements and you noted the way his pupils dilated and the way his scent shifted. It was muskier and even though you weren’t in exactly in Spring territory anymore you could still hear, still feel, the pulsating drum beats.

His left hand that was also adorned with gold rings, cupped your face, his thumb swiping against your cheek as he uttered a single question, “Can I kiss you?”

You felt your cheeks heat and only nodded your head in response not trusting your voice. His nostrils flared and you knew he scented your arousal.

“I need words, little flame. I want to hear it from your lips,” Eris commanded, his voice rough with lust.

“Yes, please.” Your voice a breathy sensual whisper.

His large hands cupped your face and then he was surging forward, your mouths met with a desperate need, it was all teeth and tongue. He was savoring every brush of your tongue against his, every drag of your lips, eagerly exploring every part of you. You both knew what you wanted—needed—and were going to take it.

His hands moved from your face to roaming over your figure before settling on your ass making you moan into his mouth. You buried your hands in his hair, it was soft beneath your fingertips as you tugged and pulled on it. Making him groan into your mouth every time you did.

You both begrudgingly pulled away needing to catch your breaths. Eris’s eyes darkened as he took you in, “You are so beautiful,” he murmured panting softly.

You felt your cheeks redden at his words again and shook your head, looking down at your feet.

His hands titled your head up, making you meet his eyes, “I’m serious, little flame, you’re beautiful. You are a goddess. . . My goddess.” You were going to brush him off, but the sincerity in his eyes and voice made you believe it.

“Then prove it. Worship me, Eris,” your voice was breathy and raw with lust. You were both succumbing to the effects of the magic felt on Fire Night. The drumbeats were now pounding and pulsating rapidly and something shifted in both of you. You needed him and he needed you in any and every way you could have each other. Neither one of you knew who moved first, but the both of you began tearing at each others clothes, your mouths meeting again.

Once you were both bare before each other, you pulled away again drinking him. Your mate was beautiful, his body was powerfully built, corded in muscles as if the Mother herself carved him from marble just for you. His body was sparsely littered in scars, the pink raised skin stark in comparison to his porcelain skin and you had no doubt he’d had more on his back. If the scars peaking over his shoulders were any indication.

You were for once grateful that the blood spell your mother used on you covered your scars. You wouldn’t ask him about his scars, in a way they made him more beautiful to you, but yours were more brutal than anything.

Both of your chests were heaving as you drank in the sight of each other. Breath hitching when you saw him, hard and at attention. He was long and thick, you knew it was going to hurt, but some fucked up part of you wanted it to. Wanted to feel every glorious inch and vein of him as he buried himself in your cunt. Licking your lips at the thought of him inside of you.

And he licks his lips when he sees your cunt glistening with arousal. The both of you make eye contact and you don’t know what he sees on your face, but the sight of it had him closing his eyes as a groan fell from his kiss swollen lips. Then he placed his hands on the back of your thighs, hoisting you up and carrying you to the only bed in the cabin.

Eris kissed you again, like a starved man who couldn’t get enough of the taste of you. He pulled away only to start kissing and biting the tanned skin of your jaw, neck and chest. The only sounds coming from the both of you were lewd moans and groans as he laid you atop the soft bed.

Climbing on top of you, he trails his tongue down your neck and to your chest, swirling it around your hardened nipples and between your breasts. Down your tummy and between your thighs. All while leaving kisses behind.

“Eris,” his name was a plea and prayer on your lips.

He moved to sit back on his haunches as his eyes rove over your body before settling on your soaked cunt, “Yes, little flame?”

“I need you,” you whimper.

“Have you—“ he shudders as his jaw and hands clench and unclench. His eyes darkening with the promise of violence, “Have you ever been with—“

You don’t even let him finish the question, “No. . . just you.”

He visibly relaxes and smiles, “Gods, the Mother really made you just for me,” he says under his breath to himself. Amber eyes meet yours, “I’m going to be the first and only male to ruin you,” he promises.

“So what are you waiting for Eris. . . ruin me,” you tilt your head at him, your mouth curving into a teasing smirk.

Without another word he settles himself between your thighs and puts your legs over his shoulders. His large hands holding your thighs apart as he licks a single long broad stripe through your folds. Digging his fingers into your soft skin, groaning at the sweet taste of you on his tongue and your hands fist the sheets beneath you at the feeling.

Back arching off the bed as his tongue flicks your clit, “Oh. . . f—fuck Eris,” you cry out in pleasure. Then he circles and swirls his tongue before sucking on your sensitive bundle of nerves.

You start to squirm beneath him as he savors you, heat begins pooling in your lower tummy, but his large hands keep you spread and in place for him. Sucking in a sharp breath at the feeling of his tongue entering you, “Eris, Eris, Eris !” His name a prayer on your lips and he is your god.

Muscles tensing as his tongue leaves you feeling empty, but then he goes right back to sucking on your swollen clit. Your walls spasming and contracting on nothing as the heat in your belly turns to fire and spreads throughout your body. Time seems to stop as he begins to suck harshly, the sheets fisted in your hands ripping out of pure pleasure and then you shattered.

Your mates name on your lips as you fall apart.

Eris doesn’t give you to time to catch your breath as he moves to sit on his knees beside your still trembling body. One of his hands plays with your tits while he uses the other to run through your folds, gathering your arousal on his fingers, your hips jerking up in response.

Then he’s moving his hand that was playing with your tits, resting it atop your lower belly as he buries two slicked covered fingers into your cunt. Eris moves them in and out at a relentless pace fucking you with them, pushing down a bit on your belly, applying pressure with his other hand, as he curls them inside of you. Hitting that sweet spot inside of you that has you crying out in pleasure.

“Eyes on me,” he orders.

Your nerves, your entire body feels like it’s on fire.

“Eyes on me or I stop.”

It takes everything in you to open your eyes, but you do. The sight of him nearly taking your breath away entirely. His red hair was mused, blown pupils with small rings of gold around them, his mouth and chin covered in your slick and a smug smirk on his lips.

“That’s it’s, little flame. Eyes on me,” he coos. Walls fluttering around his fingers at his words, his voice, him. The coil inside of you tightening, legs shaking and then the coil snapped.

You were a babbling incoherent mess as you squirted, soaking his fingers, your thighs and sheets beneath you. “Good fucking girl,” he praised, but he didn’t stop. You couldn't tell where one climax ended and another began as continued thrusting his fingers in and out of you relentlessly. You didn’t know how many times he made you squirt before he stopped.

Your body was still shaking and your chest was still heaving as he licked a long stripe from your sensitive cunt—making you whimper—up to your lips. Kissing you and then swiping his tongue along your bottom lip asking for permission, your tongue met his, making you moan as you tasted yourself on his tongue.

Eris pulled back smiling proudly at you before placing a soft gentle kiss on your forehead, “You did so good, little flame.” You looked at him with heavy lidded eyes. “Can you keep going or do you want to sleep?”

You knew if you said you wanted to stop he would stop, but you also knew this might be only night you get to be with him and you weren’t going to waste it. So you nodded your head.

He chuckled, “I need words,” he pushed your hair out of your face, “I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes,” you breathed, your voice raw and hoarse from all the pleasure.

Eris kissed you on the forehead again, praising you, “Atta girl.”

You were still panting softly when he rose from the bed and said he would be right back, he left the bedroom, coming back with two glasses of water in hand. “Drink up, sweetheart. We’re just getting started.” You didn’t even reach for the water as you stared at him, his cock, unabashedly. Eris was still hard as rock—just from looking at you. Since he saw you bare before him.

The sight of him, his tip red and angry had you running your tongue over your lips, hungry to feel him in your mouth. You didn’t say anything as you crawled to him, to where he was standing at the side of the bed and wrapped your hand around him.

He hissed when you pumped him a few times which only motivated you do more, so you could see how he’d react. But before you could, Eris stopped you pulling your hand away, “Drink,” he ordered.

Taking the glass of water from his hand you gulped it down greedily. You didn’t realize how thirsty you were until you were knocking back the glass. Practically chugging it as water trickled down from the corners of your mouth and down your neck. Eris only shook his head, chuckling, “Good?” Taking both of your empty glasses and setting them on the nightstand.

You nod, giving him a shy smile, wiping the water off your chin with the back of your hand, “Good.”

His hand wraps around your neck, guiding you to where he wants before he leans down, kissing you hungrily. Then you’re wrapping your hand around his length, pumping and twisting slowly, his hips bucking in response to your touch.

The both of you pull away from the kiss and he groans as you grip him harder and pick up the pace. Letting out a shuddering exhale as you lay on your stomach infront of him, biting your lip, enjoying how your mate reacts to your touch. Stroking him a couple more times before licking a long broad stripe on the underside of length.

Eris lets out a lewd moan as you swirl your tongue around the head of his cock. His hands brushing your hair back as you lightly lap at his sensitive tip, savoring the taste of the salty bead of precum that was on it.

Kiss swollen lips part to take him, making you gag as his cock hits the back of your throat, “Oh fuck,” Eris rasps out. Hollowing your cheeks as you pull almost all the way back. Making eye contact as you swirl your tongue around his tip, working his long thick length with your hand, the other playing with his balls. “Mother’s tits,” he groans.

Lips wrapping around the head of his cock as you guide his hands to grip your hair. His amber eyes twinkle when he realizes what you want him to do, “Are you sure, little flame? I won’t be gentle.” You hum a ‘yes’ to him as best you can with him in your mouth. The feral look in his eyes matches the smirk he wears and he doesn’t waste another second.

Not as he tightens the hold he has on your hair and mercilessly bucks his hips into your mouth. Eyes watering as you sputter around his cock, “That’s it. . . fucking take it like a good, little slut,” he growls.

Tears run down your cheeks and saliva runs down your chin as he fucks your mouth. Hips grinding on nothing in response to the obscene noises he makes and the lewd sounds of him roughly bucking his hips into your warm mouth. Then he’s suddenly pulling you off of him and crashing his lips to your swollen ones. Before you can even catch your breath he’s swirling his tongue around yours.

He pulls away, both of you breathing heavily, he presses his forehead against yours. He chuckles, “You all right?”

You nod your head, “Mhm.”

“Gods I wanted to finish in your mouth, but I’d rather finish in you,” he confesses.

“Please,” you breathe and he nods his head.

Then he’s moving, positioning you in the middle of bed and sliding a plush pillow beneath your head, as he sits on his knees between your thighs. He sighs contentedly, scanning you from head to toe, “Gods, my beautiful beautiful, mate.”

You sit up on your elbows, wrapping your right hand around his cock and stroke him, “My beautiful beautiful, mate,” you repeat back to him. The smile Eris gives you, causes butterflies to flutter in your belly and then he’s leaning forward capturing your lips in a way you could only describe as loving.

His left hand cups the side of your face as he lays you back down, still kissing you and his large right hand covers the one you have wrapped around his cock. Then he’s rubbing the tip of it through your folds, hips jerking when it rubs over your clit as he swallows your moans.

Pulling back, pressing your forehead to his chest, “Eris. . . please. . .” you whimper.

“Please what, little flame,” he chuckles darkly and you don’t even have to look at him to know he’s smirking.

“Fuck me—“ your voice dies in your throat at the feeling of his cock pushing into you. Your hands move to grip his biceps as you hiss out in pain, you know you’re wet enough but he’s just so big. Eris continues pushing in slowly, inch by inch, until he’s fully buried in your cunt.

Your chest heaving at the lingering hint of pain, but he doesn’t move, letting you stretch and adjust to his size. He just places kisses all over your face as you adjust, “You’re doing so good,” he praises. “Take your time.”

You both stay there not moving and he just continues to kiss you and talk you through it for a couple minutes longer.

Letting out a shaky breath, you utter one word, “Move.”

That’s all it takes for him to start slowly rolling his hips, your walls fluttering around him, making him groan. “Fuck,” he drawls out. Eris continues fucking into you with slow but precise rolls of his hips, but he’s starting to tremble with restraint from holding himself back. Not wanting to hurt his sweet little mate.

But any hint of lingering pain is long gone and you want—need—him to ruin you. “Eris?”

“Yes?” He grits out.

“I need you harder. . . faster,” you murmur against his skin.

His hips still for a second, then he’s throwing your legs over his broad shoulders, hips snapping against the back of your thighs and ass as he fucks into you at an impossibly fast pace. This new position making you cry out as his tip repeatedly hits your sweet spot, “Ohh f-fuck Eris!”

“Gods. . . you take me well,” he says between pants, “You were made for me, little flame.” Then he sets your legs back down and puts his hands down on the bed, beside your tits as he deeply thrusts into you, causing you to throw your head back into the pillow. Screwing your eyes shut and screaming his name out while your nails scratch his back.

He lets out a hiss that has you opening your eyes, scanning his face, you open your mouth to ask if you hurt him. But he quickly shakes his head ‘no,’ “I—I just feel you, little flame.” He reassures you, shifting his hips at another angle, hitting spots he hadn’t hit before.

“Fuuuck, Eris.” You cry out, your hands finding his back again, scratching.

"Look at you," he murmurs as he moves inside you.

You manage to rise up enough to see where you were joined—to see his cock pulling almost all the way out before disappearing back into your body. And the sight of it wrecked you so thoroughly that it pushed you right over the edge. Your mates name on your lips as you fell as he worked you through your orgasm.

You stay like that for a little while longer—him rutting into you—then he’s flipping you around so you’re on top. He doesn’t even move yet and your body shudders, the fit so much deeper in this position.

Pressing your hand against your lower belly and gasp, his cock twitching inside of you. He has a smug smirk of pure male satisfaction on his face, “See, you were made for me. We’re a perfect fit.”

You lean down to kiss him, and then whisper in his ear, “I want to make you feel good. Let me make you feel good.”

Eris sucks in sharp breath and now it’s his turn to beg, “Please, little flame.” So you sit up, hands braced on his broad chest, and rode him.

Eris howled your name—thrusting his hips up to meet yours—like the devotee of a god. Your tits bouncing wildly in his face as you rode him, faster, harder. His fingers digging into the soft skin of your hips, no doubt leaving bruises behind in their wake. “Touch me. . .” you breath, your voice dripping sin.

Grinding your hips down on him as he moved his hands to grope your tits, pinching and pulling your nipples. His touch making goosebumps appear and spread all over your body. Breath hitching every time your swollen clit rubbed against the muscles of his abs. His own pleasure making his abs twitch only adding to your own pleasure. Causing heat to build in your belly from the friction.

You braced your hands on his chest again, slamming your ass against his hips, drowning out the drumbeats that still sounded outside for Calanmai. The only thing you could hear was the sound of skin slapping skin and your sounds of pleasure.

Then he pulled you against him so you were chest to chest, wrapping his arms around your back, jackknifing up into you relentlessly. “Be a good little mate and fucking take it,” he grits out. The fire in your belly turning to molten lava. Your hands fisting the sheets at his sides before biting into his shoulder.

It looked like they were glowing with starlight, or maybe your own vision fractured as release barreled into you again like a lightning strike.

And Eris found his, gasping your name over and over as he grinded your hips onto his with a bruising grip. His cock twitching as he spilled himself in you. Your walls spasming and contracting around him, milking every last drop of his cum, as he held you there on him until he was well and truly empty.

When you were done, you remained atop him with him still inside of you and he still had a hand on your hip, while the other played with your hair.

For other parts: Bound In Flames Series Masterlist

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 9 part 10 part 11 part 12

Taglist: @historygeekqueen @cat-or-kitten @yeeyeebabe @khaleesihavilliard @impossibelle @sleepylunarwolf @cutie232 @meepmeep-318 @belledawnidk @fandomrejects @wasntpriscilla @brandywineeeee @consultinghuntresshasthetardis @thescooby-gang @annblvd @poetryinshadows @isa1b2h3 @tele86 @esposadomd @fabulouslyflamboyant5 @glaciuswduo @laceandsuch

*If you would like to be added to the taglist for this story or to my general taglist, please either reply to this post or send me a message.

[elucienweekofficial]

Instagram ・ AO3 Collection ・ Twitter ・ Event Masterlist

Thank you so much to everyone who participated in Elucien Week 2024! We are so grateful to everyone who took the time to share their creativity and engage with the week!

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📝Fics, drabbles, and poems:

Healing by @shadowqueenjude

Take Me To Church (Sneak Peek) by @allwaswellllll

Splendor Solis by @fimproda

Dancing Barefoot by @zenkindoflove

ACOWAR (Elucien's Version) by @crazy-ache

It's Just a Burning Memory by @the-darkestminds

Beauty Marks by @fieldofdaisiies

Better Days by @shallyne

Dressing Room Dilemma by @yaralulu

New Phone, Who 'Dis? by @writtenonreceipts

Mine For A Moment by @starfall-spirit

The Wedding Date by @clockwork-ashes

Long Live by @separatist-apologist

Auburn Embrace by @sonics-atelier

A Heart of Gold by @jules-writes-stories

Got Lovestruck, Went Straight to My Head by @withclawandvine

Healing by @shadowsingers-mate

Guard Dog of Your Fevered Dreams by @asnowfern

The Ways We Mend by @animezinglife

Can I Be Close to You by @temperedink

Too Sweet by @shadowisles-writes

Something About April by @starsreminisce

What Do You Know About Love by @the-lonelybarricade

Open Water by @itsybitsybluesy

Trancing Through A Day Dream by @thelovelymadone

Morning Edition by @cauldronblssd

the trouble with wanting by @wilde-knight

🎨Art:

Elucien in the rain commissioned by @freyjas-musings and @amandapearls from artist Ekilateral.art

A Warrior of the Mind commissioned by @starfall-spirit from artist brunagarretart

Statues in Love by @climbthemountain2020

Elain and Lucien promenading commissioned by @lulufoxlainfawn from artist @/shinkxart

Elucien kissing commissioned by @separatist-apologist and @the-lonelybarricade from artist @lib-arts

Elucien Bridgerton AU commissioned by @gwynrieldefenseatty from artist Shinkxart

Better Days by @shallyne

Red Lucien and La Dame Blanche by @olenvasynyt

Tension and Healing pt 2 commissioned by @the-lonelybarricade and @separatist-apologist from artist @brielyasmin

Elucien Embrace commissioned by @moonpatroclus and @cauldronblssd from artist @/viliuad00’s

Relaxation and Pampering commissioned by @foxylady13 and @kbirdie03 from artist @/b_astora

You Are So Gorgeous, It Makes Me So Mad by @sad-scarred-sassy

Vampire Elucien by @works-of-heart

Road Trip by @westrangecollectionkoalaposts

Genderbent Elucien by @nesta-apologist

Some Place Under The Sun, We Feel Our Hearts For The First Time commissioned by @acourtdelaluna from artist @/gessueter

Elain Writes Lucien a Letter commissioned by @lulufoxlainfawn from artist @dimalry

Emperor Lucien and Empress Elain by @belabellissima

🎶Misc:

Elucien in Faerûn by @little-fierling

The Mother and the Cauldron - creating Elucien by @dreamsandstars24

Elucien pirates AU moodboard by @shadowqueenjude

Elucien Ghibli Moodboard by @lainalit

day seven: au ( v i c t o r i a n ) by @spore-loser

ELAIN AND ELUCIEN: TENSION AND HEALING by @octobers-veryown

Elucien x Howl's Moving Castle Moodboard by @sunshinebingo

Modern Moodboard by @iheartfjords

Fox and Fawn Playlist by @bookishwithathought

Tension & Healing Moodboard by @inbiography

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Thank you as well to everyone who coloured today's Coloring Page!

AU coloring page by @sadiegirl2021

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[starsreminisce]

This:

But Feyre, Cassian knew, had been aware of what she’d see before entering. And well aware that these ten minutes had only been the opening movements in a symphony of pain that Azriel could conduct with brutal efficiency.

Is compatible with this:

Gwyn crossed her arms, pale robes rustling. She winced and rubbed her shoulder. “Did you know shields weighed so much? I certainly didn’t. No wonder the Valkyries learned to use them as weapons as deadly as their swords.” She sighed. “They’d have been quite a sight in battle: cracking open enemy skulls with blows from their shields, throwing them to knock an opponent onto their backs before skewering them …” She rubbed her shoulder again. “Their arm muscles must have been as hard as steel.”

but it's not compatible with this:

Nesta wasn’t going anywhere. She could barely stay sitting. And Elain … Amren was holding Elain upright as she vomited in the grass. Not from the Cauldron. But pure terror.

as this is:

I looked to Lucien, but the color had blanched from his face, leaving a sickly white-green in its wake. “Lucien,” Tamlin said—a quiet command. But Lucien kept gaping at the faerie’s ruined back, at the stumps, his metal eye narrowing and widening, narrowing and widening. He backed up a step. And another. And then vomited in a potted plant before sprinting from the room.

however this:

Her focus wholly on me, on taking from me the beauty I’d burned from her, Brannagh did not see him winnow until it was too late. Until Lucien’s sword refracted the light of the sun leaking through the canopy. And then met flesh and bone.

is similar to this:

But as a black blade broke through the king’s throat, spraying blood, I realized someone else had. Elain stepped out of a shadow behind him, and rammed Truth-Teller to the hilt through the back of the king’s neck as she snarled in his ear, “Don’t you touch my sister.”

which is different from this:

She smiled crookedly at Nesta. “I kept to the trees the first two nights, watching the beasts, and I spotted that horrible male and his companions this morning. Saw they’d found my nightgown and displayed it, and I knew they were hunting for you. I thought I’d take them out before they could find you.”

but is similar to this:

“Azriel slaughtered all of them within moments. He didn’t hesitate. But I could barely move, and when I tried to get up … He gave me his cloak and wrapped me in it.

[pupsmailbox]

ANGELIC︰DEVINE ID PACK

NAMES ⌇　abel. acher. achille. adam. adrien. adélie. aelin. alaida. alexis. alice. alya. ambroise. amelia. amour. ana. anahera. andras. angaile. ange. angel. angela. angelesse. angelette. angelica. angelina. angeline. angelique. angelissa. angelita. angeliza. angella. angelo. angelus. angelyna. angie. angé. angélique. anna. antoine. apolline. ariel. astrid. aurora. aurore. azazel. baal. behemoth. berrie. bethany. blaise. blanche. blanchesse. blanchette. blushe. bowette. cain. caleb. camille. capucine. carmen. cary. casimir. cassandra. cassiel. castiel. cathy. celeste. celestine. celine. cerberus. cerise. charmeine. cher. cherie. cherub. choirette. christian. christine. chérie. cielo. claire. claude. cloud. cloudisse. cynthia. cyril. daisy. damien. damon. danni. dina. divina. divinesse. divinette. divinne. donovan. dova. dulcengel. eden. elena. elouan. elysia. emmy. engel. enzo. erebus. eryn. estelle. esther. evangelina. evangeline. evangelista. eve. faith. felix. fiacre. fleur. fortune. francette. francis. gabriel. gabriella. gaby. gemini. genesis. ghoul. giselle. godefrey. grace. gwenaël. halo. heartette. heather. heaven. heavenelle. heavenesse. hel. helena. henri. hera. honoré. hyacinthe. icha. isaac. isabelle. isidore. jacques. jade. jennifer. jin. jocelyn. jordan. joseph. josephina. julia. kage. karine. kasdeya. katie. kenzo. keres. kilian. lacey. lambise. lamia. laura. leila. leilani. levi. leviathan. liam. lightion. lilia. lilin. lilith. lola. louis. lucia. lucien. lucifer. léo. madeleine. madeline. malachi. malvina. mal’akhi. marc. mare. marie. marin. marine. mary. mateo. maxime. melantha. michael. michelangelo. michelle. minerva. mirabelle. morgan. moros. nadia. narcisse. nazaire. nicholas. noah. noelle. octave. océane. odin. olivia. onyx. ophelia. orpheus. pheobe. pinkette. pinkion. piérre. priscilla. prosper. rainier. ramiel. raphael. ravana. raymond. robin. rogue. rosaire. roxxane. ruby. rue. ruelle. rémi. sabel. salome. salomon. samael. samuel. sara. sephora. sephtis. sera. seraph. seraphim. seraphina. seraphine. serenity. seth. skye. soan. softetta. sol. sonata. sophia. soraya. strawbette. sugarette. sylvain. sylvianne. séraphin. tatiana. theodore. timothee. tristan. uriel. ursula. valentine. valerie. venetia. vera. victor. victoria. victorien. vionetta. virtue. vivian. vivien. willow. wingette. wolf. xavier. xela. yann. yasmine. yvette. zacharie. zoe. ángel. ánxela. éloi. étienne.

PRONOUNS ⌇　abo/above. adore/adore. ae/ae. ae/aer. an/angel. angel/angel. angelic/angelic. arch/angel. archangel/archangel. arrow/arrow. aura/aura. ay/aym. ballet/ballet. beau/beau. beauty/beauty. being/being. beloved/beloved. black/black. bless/bless. bless/blessing. blessing/blessing. bloom/bloom. blue/blue. bow/bow. broke/broken. bun/bun. celeste/celestial. celestial/celestial. cher/cher. cherub/cherub. cherub/cherubim. chirp/chirp. choir/choir. clou/cloud. cloud/cloud. cold/cold. cross/cross. crown/crown. cu/cupid. cupid/cupid. curse/curse. dark/dark. deity/deity. delicate/delicate. div/divine. div/divinity. divine/divine. dove/dove. drift/drift. empty/empty. er/ero. ero/ero. ethe/ethereal. ethereal/ethereal. ey/eyr. fai/faith. faith/faith. fall/fall. fall/fallen. fate/fate. faun/fauna. feather/feather. flight/flight. float/float. flower/flower. fluff/fluff. fly/flight. fly/fly. glow/glow. gold/gold. grace/grace. gra/grace. grudge/grudge. hae/haer. ha/halo. halo/halo. harp/harp. he/hym. hea/heaven. heal/heal. heart/heart. heaven/heaven. heaven/heavenly. hell/hell. hol/holy. holy/holy. hush/hush. hx/hxm. hy/hym. hymn/hymn. id/idol. ix/ix. kind/kind. kyr/kyr. lace/lace. lamb/lamb. life/life. light/light. lo/love. lyr/lyr. lyre/lyre. melancholy/melancholy. metallic/metallic. mirror/mirror. mist/mist. misty/misty. mon/mon. moral/moral. omen/omen. peace/peace. perfect/perfection. pink/pink. pure/pure. pure/purr. radiant/radiant. ribbon/ribbon. rose/rose. sacred/sacred. saint/saint. scept/scepter. self/self. ser/seraph. seraph/seraph. seraph/seraphim. shimmer/shimmer. shine/shining. shx/hxr. silk/silk. sin/sin. sing/song. sky/sky. smite/smite. snake/snake. snow/snow. soar/soaring. soft/soft. somber/somber. sorrow/sorrow. spark/sparkle. spirit/spirit. sugar/sugar. swan/swan. sweet/sweet. taint/taint. tether/tether. thorn/thorn. thxy/thxm. thy/thyn. tru/trumpet. unholy/unholy. unknown/unknown. vae/vaer. val/valentine. vio/vior. water/water. white/white. wi/wing. wing/wing. wraith/wraith. wrath/wrath. yellow/yellow. ðe/ðim. þe/þim. ȝe/ȝim. ☀️ . ☁️ . ⛪ . ✨ . ⭐ . 🐑 . 👁️ . 👼 . 🕊️ . 🕯️ . 😇 . 🤍 . 🦢.

[seventeenpins]

hi, i'm Pins! please enjoy this masterlist of TLOU works.

follow @seventeenpins-updates and turn on notifs for new fics/chapters

never pegged you for a quitter

never pegged you for a quitter (pt i) • knock him down a peg (pt ii) | Joel x f!reader x Tess | smut | Joel gets pegged. Repeatedly.

a slight miscalculation

Chapter I • Chapter II - Joel x f!reader | 8.3k | ongoing series | Sarah is off to college, and Joel is about to be living in an empty nest. Letting go of his inhibitions for the first time in a long time, he tumbles into a one night stand that becomes very complicated, very quickly.

west

Prologue • Chapter I (upcoming) - Joel x nb!reader | ongoing series | Dakota Territory, 1879. Joel Miller, a widower, lives on the outskirts of Deadwood with his brother and daughter. The end of the world arrives piece by piece, and then all at once.

triptych

part i • part ii- tommy x f!reader x joel | 2.5k | after a shitty day, you chat with a man at a bar. after a surprisingly nice night, you go back to his place only to discover he lives with his brother who happens to be an old flame of yours.

stepdad!joel au

bad girl (part i) • practice makes perfect (part ii) • bloom (part iii) • blanch (part iv) - you're staying in your hometown for a couple of months and your stepdad walks in on you watching porn.

forget-me-not

forget-me-not (part i) | qz!joel x f!reader | 3.3k | angst/smut | joel's about to travel west to wyoming in search of his brother, and you're not sure you're ready to say goodbye.

violet (part ii) | older qz!joel x f!reader | 5.8k | set seven years after joel's departure from the boston qz, you've been forced to flee the city. you come across the town of jackson, wyoming.

✨ nightly ✨

Joel x f!reader | 1k | smut | Joel is a mistake you just keep making. Basically just porn.

a little domesticity

Tess x f!reader | 2.3k | smut | It's Tess's birthday. You want to make it special.

drive me home

Tess x f!reader | 1.7k | smut | You drive back home with Tess after she brings you to her holiday work party. She makes it hard to concentrate on the drive.

give em a show

Joel x f!reader | 1.5k | smut | Joel watches you as you dance with a stranger in the bar. It goes a little too far, and Joel makes sure everyone knows exactly who you belong to.

wanna be felled by you, held by you

Joel x nb!reader | 4.7k | smut | Joel has always issues with relinquishing control. Time in the safety and community of Jackson has changed him, though, and he wants to give all his control to you, let you pull him apart.

vampire!joel au - upcoming

non-TLOU

the stranger the better

Dieter Bravo x reader | 5.6k | smut | Dieter gets tentacles. That's the fic.

take me higher

Lucien Flores x f!reader | 1.6k | smut | You run into an ex at a party. You never learn.

*****

most recent fics indicated with ✨

prompts are always welcome, and I will be updating this list periodically~

updated 30 July 24

[starfall-spirit]

@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

[mote-historie]

Léon Benigni, Réunion des Modistes, Gouache. The milliners depicted are from left to right: Paulette - Blanche et Simone - Maude Roser - Le Monnier, n.d.

Biography :

Leon Benigni was a fashion illustrator and graphic designer who worked with fashion designers such as Jeanne Lanvin, Marcel Rochas, Elsa Schiaparelli, Lucien Lelong, Jacques Fath, Jean Patou, Nina Ricci, and Cristobal Balenciaga.

In addition he worked closely with fashion magazines such as Harper's Bazaar, Modes et Travaux, and Femina, both for editorial and magazine covers, creating bold Art Deco influenced fashion illustrations, capturing the sophistication and glamour of the period.

His many travel posters of this period advertising spas and resorts in France also uniquely captured the spirit of the 1920s and 30s.

[prythiansfavoritefox]

Pairing: Elucien

Elain stared at Lucien, shock clear on her face. "I...but I'm a human. This doesn't make sense. How could I-how could we possibly be mates?"

Lucien slumped over in his chair, head in his hands. He was just as stunned as she was. Something had compelled him to walk into the Lion's den, the place where his father held court like he was a goddamn king (well, not his father by blood, but the father he'd unfortunately grown up with). That something had driven him crazy, explosions of magic bursting out of him at the sight of the human woman they dragged by her hair. It was only after he'd killed everybody in the vicinity, grabbed her, and escaped from there that he'd realized what had happened.

Lucien sighed. "I'm not completely human, Elain." She was the most exceptionally beautiful woman he had ever seen, and he'd been surrounded by vampires most of his life; he just wished they'd met under different circumstances. Lucien had had no idea he could even imprint considering his mixed nature, but this answered his question. She narrowed her doe-brown eyes on him. "You have the mark of a vampire hunter," she said, indicating the small bit of skin exposed at his wrist revealing the magic mark. "Are you a werewolf, then?"

Lucien snorted. His skin did not feel cold like most vampires; it ran red hot because of the fire in his blood. Because of it, his relatives had a higher tolerance to sunlight then most vampire breeds. Hence, they were sometimes mistaken for werewolves whose blood ran hot. It also made them more dangerous than most vampires.

"No. I'm half-vampire."

Elain blanched and jumped away from him. Her eyes were wide as she exclaimed, "You're a hybrid? And you're hunting your own kind?"

Lucien couldn't help but be amused by her reaction, leaning back in his own chair and smirking slightly. "If you knew my family, you'd understand why. Besides, I like my human side better."

Elain stared at him haughtily, placing her hands on her hips. "I can assure you, nothing about your behavior thus far has remotely resembled that of a human's."

"Consider me an upgrade, then."

Elain rolled her eyes, walking away from him. Drawn by the mating bond instincts, Lucien followed her. "Are you a vampire hunter too, then?" He was pretty sure he'd seen the mark on her skin as Beron's servants had dragged her towards the dais.

"In a matter of speaking." Lucien followed Elain into some kind of kitchen, where various strange smelling herbs and stews were kept in closed pots. Lucien inspected one, and the pungent odor made him smile.

"Don't go near that!" Elain shouted, rushing towards him, but Lucien just chuckled. "Relax, little witch. This won't harm me. It wouldn't kill any of my family members either, but it would certainly do them a great deal of damage. Any other vampire would get one whiff and die instantly."

Elain heaved a sigh of relief. She had put on an apron now, and Lucien couldn't help but think of how adorable she looked in the squirrel and acorn print. She reached for the cupboard above him, getting on her tiptoes. Lucien, suppressing his laughter, reached up and handed it to her. She took it from him with a little huff, gracefully placing them beside yet another pan before going to the fridge and pulling out vegetables.

Lucien's brows rose. "Don't tell me you're making another potion? Don't you have enough of those?"

Elain turned back to him, the faintest of smiles on her face. "This isn't a potion, silly. It's dinner."

Oh. Lucien blinked. "Ahhhh, well, tell me what you're making so that I can help."

Elain opened her mouth to speak, but suddenly, there was the sound of a garage door opening, and she paused, something pained crossing her expression. "Quick! You need to hide!" she hissed.

Lucien wished he hadn't put it together so quickly, but he did. "Your husband?"

Elain shook her head. "My fiance. I...well before I met you, I was engaged. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, but...truthfully, in the moment, I had forgotten." The words she didn't say hung between them.

Because I was so enamored by you.

Lucien quickly threw himself into a closet. He clenched his fists, squeezed his eyes tight, and took deep breaths to try and control his mating reflexes. There was the sound of a door opening and closing before Elain's lovely voice cried, "Graysen!" and nimble feet ran towards heavier feet.

There was a thud, and a yelp from Elain, and Lucien could guess what had happened. She had been slammed against the wall.

"Where is he?" Graysen snarled. Elain blinked. "Where is who?"

"Your mate!" he bellowed. "I know he's here; I can smell him."

Lucien could smell Graysen too; his mate had unknowingly gotten engaged to a vampire's sworn enemy: a werewolf.

"What do you mean, you can smell him?" Elain demanded. "What are you, a dog?"

"That's exactly what he is." Lucien swaggered out of his hiding place, lazy grin on his face. Inside, he was seething as he saw how helpless Elain was, pinned to the wall by her own lover. "Elain, your fiance is a werewolf. Dog, I'd advise you get your hands off the lady, right now."

Like a dog, Graysen barked at him and charged towards him. Lucien laughed. It was a werewolf's greatest weakness: their impulsivity and lack of control over their emotions. As Graysen barreled at him, Lucien easily sidestepped, grabbed his wrist, and slammed him against the opposite wall, whipping out a knife to press against his throat.

Lucien crooned in his ear, "Bad. Dog."

He looked back at Elain, and the hurt in her expression had the mating bond raring at him to slit Graysen's throat where he stood. But Lucien knew that wouldn't solve any problems, especially since she still loved him.

Instead, he pressed against a spot on Graysen's neck, knocking him out. "We'll deal with him later," Lucien assured her, and the slightest of smiles bloomed on her face. Lucien couldn't help but answer with a wider one of his own.

@tacocattacocattacocatexplosion

[shadowqueenjude]

Tamlin's villain origin story part 3

Night Court

It took about a week before Azriel came back with news. His expression told Feyre that none of it was good news.

“What is it?” Feyre demanded.

“Lucien has allied himself with Tamlin, Nesta, and Eris,” Azriel panted. “Elain is with them too. She has shown no intention of coming back to the Night Court.”

“Shit,” Feyre said. She clenched her teeth. “I knew we shouldn’t have trusted Lucien.”

“There’s more,” Azriel said.

Feyre waited for Azriel to say more.

Azriel took a deep breath. As if it was tough for him to even say. “Beron is dead.”

Feyre raised a brow. “And I’m supposed to care? Good fucking riddance, I say.”

Azriel shook his head. “It’s not his death that should worry you. It’s the message it’s sending.”

“What do you mean?” Feyre sat down, feeling like she would need to be doing so for this particular piece of news.

“Beron wasn’t just killed. He was gutted. The body was brutalized and posted at the front of the Autumn Court palace. Along with a message.”

“What was the message?”

“You’re next, Inner Circle. All written in Beron’s blood.”

Feyre blanched. “Oh. My. God. Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“That Tamlin and his friends did this? Yes. And they’re coming for us next. Eris and Nesta have already taken over the Autumn Court. Lucien has taken control of Hybern. And Tamlin still rules over Spring. That’s three territories that our enemies have control of. Three territories they can use against us.”

“What the hell are we supposed to do, then?”

“We need to gather allies amongst the remaining courts to fight them. Or else we’re dead.”

Feyre sucked in a breath. “This would’ve been easier with Rhys around.”

Azriel’s eyes shuttered at that.

“I know,” Feyre said quietly. “I miss him too.”

Azriel said nothing, but his shadows agitatedly swirling around him as he walked out of the room told Feyre enough. They were all still grieving; it had only been a week, after all. He’d only just had his official funeral two days ago. A few days of mourning, and it was back to work. They had to save their own lives. They had no time to waste.

They had no time at all, most likely. They were fighting a losing battle. In one fell sweep, Tamlin had taken control of the narrative. Feyre was just a side player. And she hated that.

[silverofthedragons]

Lucien’s quite a bit late to Tumblr compared to Cara. Dunno why I did that.

Anyways, meet Lucien Amadeus Blanche, supervillain and mad scientist! Master of poisons and antidotes, as well as the controller of a large hivemind of mechanical spiders. He’s also the arch enemy of that rat bastard Niles over on @undeadbard ‘s place.

[iydiamartinx]

FLAMES OF STARLIGHT

𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗲𝗹𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻 | 𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌

Pairing: Poly!Azriel x OC x Lucien

❝ 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯

𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯. ❞

— 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐮𝐬

FROM HER SPOT, leaning against the wall, Val studied the queens. They weren't exactly what she expected. She honestly didn't know what she expected, but it wasn't this.

They were all a mixture of age, colouring, height, and temperament, yet there was just something about them that made them seem so...off. They lacked regality, and there was no mistaking the hungry gleam in their eyes.

These weren't queens, these were power-hungry women, and something told Val that these women wouldn't help them no matter what they did.

Rhysand was the first to break the silence, "Well met," He said.

They didn't reply. A nod from the golden queen, the most beautiful of the five, had their guards moving to hold position by the walls.

Nesta and Elain both shuffled aside from the bay windows to make room, but Val refused to move from her spot, leaning against the wall.

The guard closest to her glared and took a threatening step forward, but she remained where she was, stone-faced. This was her home, and she wouldn't let herself be bullied. She would stand where she damned pleased.

Val heard a slight growl come from behind her, where the two Illyrians stood not too far from where she did. It was so low Val nearly missed it. The guard's eyes drifted passed the shoulder that wasn't against the wall, and whatever he saw had his face blanching, and reluctantly he shifted back a few steps and found a different spot.

Rhysand took a small step forward, and the queens sucked in a sharp breath; whether to prepare themselves or in fear, Val wasn't sure. The guards casually moved their hands to the hilt of their swords, and Val refrained from snickering.

She didn't know the full extent of their power, but even she was wise enough to know that these human guards stood no chance against the High Lord and his inner circle.

Rhysand just bowed his head slightly and said, "We are grateful you accepted our invitation." He took in the five queens before lifting an eyebrow. "Where is the sixth?"

It was the eldest of the queens who spoke first, her eyes were cold and calculating, but her tone was neutral, giving nothing away.

"She is unwell and could not make the journey." Her beady eyes looked to Feyre. "You are the emissary."

Val noticed Feyre slightly stiffen at being acknowledged. Slowly, she nodded her head and said, "Yes, I am Feyre."

Her cold gaze then cut to Rhysand. "And you are the High Lord who wrote us such an interesting letter after your first few were dispatched."

Val stopped herself from curling her lip at the queen's tone. It toed the line between boredom and amusement. She was mocking him.

If Rhysand noticed, he didn't let on. "I am," He replied with a slight nod. "And this is my cousin, Morrigan."

The beautiful golden-haired Fae that had come with Feyre and the others glided forward. Her walk was filled with a feline-like grace, and beauty, power and dominance exuded off of her. It was evident with the way the golden and the second youngest queen sized her up that they thought she was a threat to them.

Morrigan came to a stop by Feyre's side and bowed. "It has been a long time since I met with a mortal queen."

The queen clad in black placed a pale hand on her lower bodice. "Morrigan—the Morrigan from the War."

The queens paused, and their looks shifted into awe and fear.

Morrigan once again bowed before gesturing to the chairs laid out. "Please—sit."

The queens sat down in unison, but the guards remained in their current spots.

"I assume these are our hosts," The golden queen said, running a gaze over Nesta, then Elain before finally stopping at Val.

Nesta had gone ramrod straight, while Elain—always the perfect lady—curtsied. Val, however, did nothing. Showed no reaction. Her face set into a mask of cool indifference as she evenly met the Golden Queen's gaze. Gold clashed against silver, and something sparked deep in that golden gaze.

"My sisters," Feyre clarified, her words drawing the golden queen's attention away from Val.

The golden queen looked to Rhysand. "An emissary wears a golden crown. Is that a tradition in Prythian?"

"No," Rhysand said smoothly, "but she certainly looks good enough in one that I can't resist."

Val couldn't help but smirk at his audacity. If this was who her sister had fallen for, Val would have no problem getting along with him.

The golden queen, however, didn't smile as she continued to muse, "A human turned into a High Fae...and who is now standing beside a High Lord at the place of honour. Interesting."

Val tilted her head, the sharp words at the tip of her tongue, but she held back, knowing her words would end the meeting before it even began. Don't sound so jealous. Val could hear the envy soaked in the queen's tone. She could see it clear as day on her face.

A game of power that's what the queens were playing, or at least trying to. It was something Val had learned from a young age. Nesta called herself their mother's monster, but if Nesta was the monster, then Val was something much more vicious. The only difference was that she had learned to suppress that side of herself unless her family was threatened.

Yet, this meeting with the queens was coaxing that side out. She watched with a certain level of detachment and coldness. Analyzing every move the queens made and every word that slipped past their poisonous lips. 

The eldest once again spoke, "You have an hour of our time. Make it count."

It should have meant the end of the game, but it was only now that the games were truly about to begin. 

"How is it that you can winnow?" Mor questioned from her seat beside Feyre.

The golden queen gave a small, mocking smile as she replied, "It is our secret and our gift from your kind."

"War is coming. We called you here to warn you—and to beg a boon," Feyre spoke. Her sister's voice was soft, too soft.

Val's lip slightly curled. She felt like her sister's use of the word beg reinforced the fact that they were in a position of vulnerability, that queens had all the power because they had something Rhysand and the inner circle needed.

"We know war is coming," The eldest said blandly. "We have been preparing for it for many years."

Val's jaw clenched as she realized the implications of their words. Rhysand glanced over at Val—whose attention was still on the queens—and his eyes slightly narrowed in thoughtfulness.

"The humans in this territory seem unaware of the larger threat. We've seen no signs of preparation," Feyre commented.

"This territory," The golden one explained coolly, "is a slip of land compared to the vastness of the continent. It is not in our interests to defend it. It would be a waste of resources." 

A surge of anger went through Val as the golden queen confirmed Val's conclusion.

"Surely, the loss of even one innocent life would be abhorrent," Rhysand drawled out.

The eldest queen sniffed, folding her withered hands onto her lap. "Yes. To lose one life is always a horror. But war is war. If we must sacrifice this tiny territory to save the majority, then we shall do it."

"There are good people here." Feyre rasped out, her voice hoarse with emotion.

Feyre was probably the most outwardly emotional sister out of all the Archeron sisters. It was both her greatest strength and her weakness. Right now, it was proving to be the latter. These women were prepared to sacrifice thousands of lives in this impending war, and they didn't even show an ounce of remorse. They wouldn't change their mind even if Feyre begged them.

The golden Queen proved Val to be right as she retorted, her voice laced with sweetness, "Then let the High Fae of Prythian defend them."

For a moment, there was silence, then Nesta spoke. Her words were an angered hiss, "We have servants here. With families. There are children in these lands. And you mean to leave us all in the hands of the Fae?"

The eldest one's face softened. "It is no easy choice, girl—"

"The choice of cowards and fools never is," Val spoke up. Her voice was as equally sweet as the golden queen's had been, filled with faux understanding even as her eyes shined with disgust.

The queens' eyes flared at her clear insult, but before they could say anything, Feyre was quick to interject.

"For all that your kind hates ours...You'd leave the Fae to defend your people?"

"Shouldn't they?" the golden one questioned, her head tilted slightly, sending that cascade of curls sliding over a shoulder. "Shouldn't they defend against a threat of their own making?" She snorted. "Should Fae blood not be spilled for their crimes over the years?"

And what of your blood, should it not be spilled for the neglect of your people? The words were once again at the tip of Val's tongue, but the sharp warning look from Rhysand had her biting her tongue.

"Neither side is innocent," Rhys countered calmly. "But we might protect those who are. Together."

"Oh?" The eldest queen mused, her wrinkled face hardening. "The High Lord of the Night Court asks us to join with him, save lives with him. To fight for peace. And what of the lives you have taken during your long, hideous existence? What of the High Lord who walks with darkness in his wake, and shatters minds as he sees fit?" She cawed out a laugh. "We have heard of you, even on the continent, Rhysand. We have heard what the Night Court does, what you do to your enemies. Peace? For a male who melts minds and tortures for sport, I did not think you knew the word."

Feyre spoke, her tone laced with anger and frustration. "If you will not send forces here to defend your people, then the artifact we requested—"

"Our half of the Book, child," The crone cut her off, "does not leave our sacred palace. It has not left those white walls since the day it was gifted as part of the Treaty. It will never leave those walls, not while we stand against the terrors in the North."

"Please," She said simply, all anger gone and left with defeat.

Silence again.

"Please," Feyre repeated. "I was turned into this—into a faerie—because one of the commanders from Hybern killed me."

"For fifty years," Feyre continued, "she terrorized Prythian, and when I defeated her, when I freed its people, she killed me. And before she did, I witnessed the horrors that she unleashed on human and faerie alike. One of them—just one of them was able to cause such destruction and suffering. Imagine what an army like her might do. And now their king plans to use a weapon to shatter the wall, to destroy all of you. The war will be swift, and brutal. And you will not win. We will not win. Survivors will be slaves, and their children's children will be slaves. Please...Please, give us the other half of the Book."

The eldest queen swapped a glance with the golden one before saying in a gentle, placatingly tone, "You are young, child. You have much to learn about the ways of the world—"

Val let out a low growl, about to snap at the crone, but Rhysand beat her to it. "Do not," He said with a deadly quiet, "condescend to her."

Azriel had told her he was centuries old. Feyre had mentioned he, Rhysand and Cassian grew up together. Which meant Rhysand was also centuries old. The eldest queen was nothing but a child compared to him.

It seemed she also realized that fact as she had the good sense to look nervous at that tone.

His face was unforgiving and hard as his voice, as he went on, "Do not insult Feyre for speaking with her heart, with compassion for those who cannot defend themselves, when you speak from only selfishness and cowardice."

It was at that moment Val's respect for the High Lord grew.

The eldest stiffened. "For the greater good—"

"Many atrocities," Rhys purred, "have been done in the name of the greater good."

Val let out a snort, drawing the attention onto herself. She didn't miss the way a flicker of disgust ran over the queens' faces at the sight of her.

Val knew in their eyes she was a nobody, a mere human girl with no standing. With the hunting clothes she wore, she wouldn't be surprised if they thought her equivalent to a wild beast. They wouldn't be far off in their thoughts, yet, Val also didn't care. She might not have any power in their eyes, but she knew who she was, and she was far from powerless. She may not have magic or a crown, but she would do anything to protect those she cared for, and that was infinitely more dangerous than being driven by greed.

Val straightened up and returned the look of loathing, but unlike them, she made no effort to hide it.

"Do. not. come into my home and lie to our faces," She warned. "You claim you are doing this for the greater good, but the truth is you care for no one but yourselves. You would sooner see us suffer and die than push past your bigotry against the Fae to help us." She spoke in a soft yet deadly tone that was filled with nothing but ice. "Fools, liars, and cowards, that's what you all are."

"How dare you?!" The second youngest queen snarled, losing her composure for a second.

From the corner of Feyre's eyes, she saw the way the shadows around Azriel darkened, a few wisps curled in agitation—or was it in protectiveness? She watched as the darkened wisps moved away from their master to circle around Val instead.

Val didn't notice as she stood tall and composed, unperturbed by the young queen's ire. Yet, the queen's eyes widened as she saw the darkness slither around Val's form.

"Quite as easily as you seem to put your lives above thousands of others," She boldly answered. "There is a chance to stop this war, but you let pride and prejudice cloud your judgment." Val shrugged. "If I'm wrong in my words, then prove it and give us the book. Let us stop this war before it can even begin."

The Elder queen interjected, eyeing the dark wisps warily, "The Book will remain with us. We will weather this storm—"

Val smirked humourlessly and shook her head, but before she could once again call them cowards or something worse, Mor cut in.

"That's enough," She interrupted firmly.

She got to her feet and stepped up beside Val. There was only one word that came to Feyre's mind when she saw her sister and Mor standing together, deadly. One of darkness, and the other of light, both equally dangerous in their own right.

Mor looked each and every one of those queens in the eye as she said, "I am the Morrigan. You know me. What I am. You know that my gift is truth. So you will hear my words now and know them as truth—as your ancestors once did."

None of the queens spoke, and Mor gestured to where Feyre sat.

"Do you think it is any simple coincidence that a human has been made immortal again, at the very moment when our old enemy resurfaces? I fought side by side with Miryam in the War, fought beside her as Jurian's ambition and bloodlust drove him mad, and drove them apart. Drove him to torture Clythia to death, then battle Amarantha until his own."

Mor took in a sharp breath, and Feyre's attention once again drifted to Azriel when she saw him inch closer.

"I marched back into the Black Land with Miryam to free the slaves left in that burning sand, the slavery she had herself escaped. The slaves Miryam had promised to return to free. I marched with her—my friend. Along with Prince Drakon's legion. Miryam was my friend, as Feyre is now. And your ancestors, those queens who signed that Treaty...They were my friends, too. And when I look at you..." She bared her teeth. "I see nothing of those women in you. When I look at you, I know that your ancestors would be ashamed."

"You laugh at the idea of peace? That we can have it between our peoples?" Mor's voice cracked, and Azriel subtly shifted nearer to her, though his face revealed nothing. "There is an island in a forgotten, stormy part of the sea. A vast, lush island, shielded from time and spying eyes. And on that island, Miryam and Drakon still live. With their children. With both of their peoples. Fae and human and those in between. Side by side. For five hundred years, they have prospered on that island, letting the world believe them dead—"

"Mor," Rhysand cut Mor off in a quiet yet sharp reprimand, and Val realized whatever she said or was about to say was supposed to remain a secret.

When the Eldest spoke, her eyes were bright, "Give us proof. If you are not the High Lord that rumour claims, give us one shred of proof that you are as you say—a male of peace."

Val narrowed her eyes. She didn't know why but those words felt like a trap. All she saw when she looked into the queen's eyes was greed and victory swirling in those dark depths.

Rhysand stood up in a fluid motion, and the queens followed.

"You desire proof?" He asked before shrugging. "I shall get it for you. Await my word, and return when we summon you."

"We are summoned by no one, human or faerie," The golden queen simpered, and Val didn't even bother to hide it as she rolled her eyes.

"Then come at your leisure," Rhys said, with enough of a bite that the queens' guards stepped forward.

Their eyes once again drifted to the two Illyrians behind her and whatever the guards saw had them paling.

"We will consider it once we have your proof." The crone nearly spat out. "That book has been ours to protect for five hundred years. We will not hand it over without due consideration."

Empty words that's what the queen's words were. Val didn't believe them. No matter what proof Rhysand would offer, she didn't believe that they would hand over the book.

Rhys barely inclined his head as he added, "Perhaps then you'll comprehend how vital the Book is to both our efforts."

The golden queen smirked as she looked to Feyre. "Good luck."

Then they were gone. The room was silent, and it was Elain who broke it by letting out a sigh.

"I hope they all burn in hell," She murmured.

Val let out a quiet snort. "So do I, sweet sister, so do I."

← Previous Chapter ✯ Next Chapter →

banner credits: saradika-graphics & reveriesources

[chicinsilk]

"Perle Océane"

Pierre Balmain Haute Couture Collection Spring/Summer 1959. Jacky Mazel in a beige checkered white cheviotte "Kala-hoop" suit by Lucien Morelle, draped beige jersey toque with veil of the same tone.

Pierre Balmain Collection Haute Couture Printemps/Eté 1959. Jacky Mazel dans un tailleur en cheviotte blanche quadrillée beige "Kala-hoop" de Lucien Morelle, toque drapée en jersey beige à voilette de même ton.

Photo Séeberger Frères

[vulpes-fennec]

Love on Water Lilies 🪷 (Ch 2)

Summary: Prince Lucien Vanserra of the Autumn Kingdom is all play, no work. Elain Archeron, a waitress and aspiring restaurant owner in the city of Colibri, is all work, no play. Caught in a larger scheme of politics and war, Lucien and Elain are turned into frogs. Will Elain get her restaurant back? Will Lucien ever become Fae again?

For @elucienweekofficial Day 7: AU (Princess and the Frog)

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

Elain screamed, stumbling backwards. The frog on the bannister had just spoken to her.

“Princess!” Oh, she wasn’t hallucinating; that definitely came from the frog. Elain fled into Vassa’s bedroom.

“Stay away from me!” she shrieked. Elain’s hand was on Vassa’s door when the frog called out to her again.

“I’m sorry, princess! It’s me, Prince Lucien of Autumn!” Prince Lucien? Elain paused.

The frog clumsily hopped onto Vassa’s bed, peering up at her. It was about the size of Elain’s two hands put together, with mossy green skin. Indeed, it was a frog with mismatched eyes—one russet brown the other golden—and a scar running down its face. She supposed he did resemble Prince Lucien in that aspect.

“What? How? Why are you a frog?” Elain sputtered.

“I do not know,” the creature confessed. The frog had the prince’s voice as well, silky smooth and low. “One minute, I am a handsome, charming prince enjoying the party. The next thing I know, I eat a beignet and I become a frog with webbed hands and feet!” He flopped onto his back and lifted a webbed foot.

“Get that away from me!” Elain tried to flick the frog—no, Lucien—away. “You must have been cursed.”

“And you can break that curse.” The frog prince stared up meaningfully at Elain, his large eyes insistent.

“How?”

“With a kiss,” Lucien replied matter-of-factly, as if the answer was plain as day. “According to the Autumn Kingdom’s folk tales, that’s what transforms animals back into the Fae.”

Elain blanched. “Kiss you?”

“Oh, but you will enjoy it, I assure you,” Lucien winked his russet eye. “All females enjoy kissing me. Many of them beg for more.” He frowned when Elain made a gagging sound. “Alright, if kissing an autumn prince is not enough, I may be inclined to offer you…ah…some reward, if you help break this curse.”

Elain perked up. This was it: a chance to get her dream back!

“Give me the riverfront pavilion you just bought today.”

“Pfft, that old thing?” Lucien waved a webbed hand.

“It’s not just any old thing!” Elain bristled. “Of course, to a rich prince like you, dropping hundreds of gold marks must be a daily occurrence.”

Lucien folded his arms across his chest. “It is,” he deadpanned.

Elain glared at the tiny creature. The gall of Lucien to assume she would enjoy kissing him! Yet a small part of Elain knew that she wouldn’t have minded kissing Lucien if he was in his Fae form. She shoved that thought away, for it was at odds with the fact that he was pampered and arrogant. In fact, the frog’s flippant attitude towards money only made her furious.

“Well, I don’t actually need to help you,” she hissed. “I can walk away, let you live the rest of your life as a frog.”

Lucien threw his hands in the air. “Fine! Princess, you are quite good at haggling. And because I am a generous prince, I will offer you the value of the building in cash as well. Hmm? How does that sound?”

“Just one kiss,” Elain whispered, more to herself. A shimmering gold tattoo suddenly appeared, the delicate swirls wrapping around her upper left arm like a golden armband.

“Just one kiss,” Lucien agreed, puffing his chest as he stood up on his hind legs. A miniature version of Elain’s gold tattoo sparkled into existence on his right upper arm.

Elain grimaced at the sight of Lucien’s puckered frog lips. Gods, this is so humiliating. Do it for the restaurant, Elain, she told herself. You can give a pesky frog prince a quick kiss for it. Elain knelt in front of Vassa’s bed and leaned in. She closed her eyes, forcing down the urge to gag again…and kissed Prince Lucien.

Kissing a frog was cold. And slimy.

Elain pulled back as fast as she could, but not before something sharp as a knife cut through her body. The sensation stripped her down layer by layer, pooling bile under her tongue. Elain’s legs buckled underneath her, the gown slipping off her shoulders as if it had suddenly enlarged in size.

“Princess?” Lucien’s voice was muffled, and sounded very far away. Elain opened her eyes and gasped. She was enveloped by fabric that was the exact shade of purple as her ballgown. Damn it all, the sheer weight of it on top of her was suffocating. Elain made to push the fabric off, but froze.

Her hands had been replaced by sticky webbed fingers.

“Oh, what did you do to me?” she cried, stumbling out of the dress on unsteady frog feet. Gone were her soft curves, her golden skin. Staring down, all Elain could see was a slightly pudgy belly and pale green skin, every inch of it moist with slime. “I’m a frog!”

Lucien hopped down from the bed, blinking slowly. “You’re a frog,” he repeated.

Elain began to tremble with panic. Her eyes were positively massive, practically bulging out of her head. She could feel her mouth stretching across her entire face, she had the tremendous urge to sit back on her haunches like a dog.

“It’s all your fault!” she cried. “I am now an ugly, slimy frog!”

“It is not slime, it is mucus,” Lucien corrected her. “And what do I know? The Autumn folk tales say curses are resolved by kissing princesses.”

“I’m not a princess,” Elain replied, confusion rising in her voice.

“You’re not?” Lucien was stunned. “Are you not Vassa La Bouff?”

“You attend Vassa’s party and you don’t even know what she looks like? I am Vassa’s friend, Elain Archeron!”

Lucien’s eyes lit up. “Ah! Elain Archeron. A pleasure to finally meet—” the frog prince stumbled, falling flat on his face. “—You.”

“Are you drunk?” she cried, hauling Lucien to his feet. The prince shrugged her off and mumbled something unintelligible. Something about red wine. “Gods, you are impossible.”

Elain was so busy trying to reacquaint herself with her new body that she did not realize Lucien had stumbled off to the balcony until he was leaning precariously between the bannister’s wooden slats.

“Get back here!” Elain tried to run, but promptly tripped over her massive feet. It turned out hopping was significantly more effective than running. She reached the Prince and grabbed him by the arm, but gravity was already doing its work.

“Aaaahhhh!” Elain and Lucien screamed as they fell from the second floor.

“Aaaahhhh!” The La Bouff servant screamed when two green frogs plummeted into the bowl of punch being wheeled out to the ball.

Pineapple. Mango. And premium white rum. These were the notes of flavor that surrounded her as Elain swam towards the surface, finding a still-tipsy Lucien paddling around.

“Can you get a hold of yourself?” Elain exasperatingly grabbed Lucien, who was inhaling large gulps of punch, and dragged him out of the bowl.

“Get those frogs!” A familiar shrill tone grated on Elain’s nerves. She would know that voice anywhere. Briallyn. Sure enough, the beady-eyed female was hurtling straight towards her, large jar in hand.

What the hell? Elain knew that Vassa would rather eat dirt than invite Briallyn to a Mardi Gras ball…which meant Briallyn had snuck in. And was likely up to no good.

Elain shoved Lucien off the table just in time. Briallyn swiped for empty air, and let out a frustrated screech. The witch dove for them again, faster this time. In that moment, Elain knew frog hopping would be futile compared to the Fae’s agility and strength. She needed to find a better way to escape.

Briallyn colliding head-first into the bowl of punch bought Elain enough time to half-hop, half-drag Lucien into the shadows.

“Where’s Jurian,” Lucien slurred as Elain pulled him into a bush. “Ooh, pulling me into a secret location, are you? Maybe if we kiss again—”

“Shut up,” Elain hissed. “You slimy frog.” Peeking through the leaves, she could see Briallyn whirling around, looking for two runaway frogs. It was only a matter of time before she pinpointed their location. Her tiny frog heart was pounding so hard, Elain was sure it would burst. She had never been in such a predicament before. Being hunted…her existence had suddenly become a life or death scenario.

“This is what you’re going to do.” Elain swiveled Lucien’s head towards the colored faelight lanterns hanging from the trees. Real flame was used in the absence of faelight, so Elain was confident the lantern cloth was fireproof. “See those lanterns up there? You’re going to use your fire powers to turn that into a hot air balloon.” She glanced at Lucien, who was still swaying on his feet with a glazed expression. “You still have your fire powers, don’t you?”

“Of course, princess,” Lucien mumbled. The frog prince steadied himself on a branch, took a deep breath, and snapped his fingers.

The entire bush promptly burst into an inferno. Elain cried out, dropping low to the ground as hot flames licked the air where her head had been seconds ago. Attendees screamed, alerting Briallyn to the flaming bush.

“Move, move, move!” Elain and Lucien stumbled out of the bush, coughing madly. Gods, did her skin feel uncomfortably parched. “You idiot! Why did you have to set the whole damn bush on fire?”

“I am drunk! You wanted confirmation, well now you have it!”

“Hurry up!” Elain urged. She snagged one of the beaded necklaces off the ground, laying it across her body like a shoulder bag. The gold beads weighed heavily as she scaled the tree, rough bark scraping her soft skin.

Miraculously, Lucien managed to balance on a branch and dislodge the lantern from the string it hung on. Elain laced the beaded necklace through the wires criss-crossing at the lantern’s base.

She glanced down to gauge Briallyn’s distance, which was a mistake. They were a terrifying distance from the ground—a fall would mean imminent death. Elain looped the beaded necklace around her waist twice for added measure, and repeated the action with Lucien. The frog prince was leaning precariously against the lantern, so drunk that he did not bother putting up a fight when Elain commanded, “fly, now!”

Thankfully, Lucien’s flame was smaller this time, a gentle, luminous light that buoyed the lantern with its heat. Elain closed her eyes and let out a noise of fear when they lifted higher and higher.

“It’s alright, you can hold on tighter to me if you are scared,” Lucien whispered in her ear when they drifted beyond the La Bouff mansion grounds.

“Suddenly, I am no longer scared,” Elain retorted, squirming where the sides of their bodies touched. “Besides, you should be holding on more than me. You’re the one who’s drunk.” Golden lights from numerous Mardi Gras celebrations passed below them, as their little contraption swiftly journeyed across Colibri’s busy streets. The celebratory Fae below paid little heed to a floating lantern above them, with two small frogs clinging onto the contraption. Elain wished she was part of the celebratory crowd, rather than…well, whatever this was.

“Can we land?” Elain asked anxiously, gripping onto the necklace for dear life. The wind had gusted them past Colibri’s outskirts, straight into the Bog of Oorid’s blanket of darkness.

“No, we go where the wind takes us.” Lucien threw an arm out into the open air. “Onto the next adventure!” The prince crowed drunkenly.

Elain gritted her teeth. “Can we please land?” she pressed again. “The bog is not safe for frogs like us.” The winds picked up, making the lights of Colibri grow farther and farther away.

“Frogs like us,” Lucien chuckled, more to himself. “Us like frogs. Frog, bog. Froggy boggy.”

The flame above them flickered, dropping them several inches in elevation. “Shit, shit, shit,” Elucien muttered. She had not anticipated the prince passing out, taking his power with him. “Get back up!” she screamed, gripping onto Lucien’s slippery shoulders. “Wake up! Lucien, wake up!”

It was no use. Lucien slumped backwards, long pink tongue lolling out. The flame flickered one last time, then guttered completely. Wind whistled in her ears as Elain began to free fall. This is the end, Elain feared, squeezing her eyes shut. I am going to die as a frog.

They crashed through trees, the process of getting banged up slowing the splat impact they made with brackish bog water. The frog’s third eyelid slipped down reflexively, allowing Elain to free herself from the necklace with several expert twists. At least the water woke Lucien up. The prince flailed, coughing and sputtering as Elain dragged him to shore by the necklace.

“I’m awake,” Lucien announced, fumbling the necklace off his waist. “What the hell just happened?”

“What the hell just happened, indeed,” Elain grumbled. From the looks of it, they were on a small delta, the beach sandy with silt and the area flourishing with plant matter. Predators were nowhere to be found, but being so small, Elain was not taking any chances.

“Look—shelter!” Lucien pointed to a hollowed stump at the water’s edge, the vertical structure and root system all that was left of a once-massive tree. “Let’s go check it out.” Elain watched the prince closely as he staggered towards the stump, gripping onto a tendril of vine to haul himself up the bark. If he was eaten by a large rodent, so be it.

“All clear!” Lucien called out through the gaping hole.

It was dry inside, but a tad too cramped. Elain huddled on a patch of moss, missing the soft blankets of her cot dearly. While there was no comfortable way to sleep as a frog, Elain did the best she could: tucking her gangly legs underneath and cushioning her head between webbed hands. Even then, Elain was mere inches from Lucien Vanserra. This was not how she expected her day to end.

“Goodnight, princess.” He sounded tipsy still, from the delayed syllables of his words.

“No thanks to you,” Elain bit out, turning away.

It was officially the worst day of her life, thanks to Prince Lucien Vanserra. Ousted from the jambalaya contest podium, losing her future cafe, then being turned into a gods damned frog… Elain yawned. Her resentment towards the prince had driven her adrenaline rush even higher, but now that she was on a patch of moss, she was tired. And crashing hard. Drowsiness settled over her like a blanket, inviting her to sleep. Oh, delicious sleep…

A loud retching sound jolted her awake. Elain opened one froggy eye irritably. Lucien was leaning out the little “window” of the tree trunk and vomiting. Elain groaned and closed her eyes again. Perhaps this would all be one bad dream when she woke up…

***Jurian***

“Aaughh,” Jurian groaned. A hundred sledgehammers pounded his head when he cracked open his eyes. He was definitely hungover…and still at the La Bouff mansion. In a bed, apparently.

Whose bed was he in? A glance to the left revealed a mop of vibrant orange hair, three shades more yellow than Lucien’s red, splayed across a pink pillow. A Fae female, with a button nose, full lips, smooth brown shoulders—smooth shoulders?!?

A simple shift of his legs under fluffy blankets reminded Jurian that he was naked, too.

Cauldron, how the hell did I end up here?

The memories of the night prior began trickling in: eating, drinking, and dancing with various females whose names he could not remember. A female had challenged Jurian to a dance-off, her brilliant sapphire eyes drawing him in. The events between the competition and the bedroom were hazy—he didn’t even remember who won. But Jurian definitely remembered the way she pushed him against the wall, devouring his mouth. And the way he pulled her down onto the bed, a tangle of clothes and limbs that devolved into passionate fucking.

While this sort of debauchery was a common occurrence whenever he went out with Lucien, Jurian was—shit. Where was Lucien?

Just then, the female’s eyes blinked open, revealing the same brilliant sapphire shade from last night. Jurian’s mouth went a little dry.

“Good morning,” she murmured, her morning voice low and seductive.

“Who are you?” Jurian blurted out. He cringed internally, kicking himself at his lack of smoothness.

“Vassa La Bouff, of course.” The female tucked her hand under her cheek and snuggled deeper into the pillow.

How the hell did I end up sleeping with Vassa La Bouff? Jurian’s brain worked slowly, the bet he made with Lucien coming back in bits and pieces. Right, Lucien had turned into a frog. If Lucien did not end up finding Vassa last night…then where the hell did he go? And, more concerningly, what happened to him?

“Shit,” Jurian muttered, getting up. He slipped out of bed, fumbling for his pants.

“Well, that’s a reaction I’ve never gotten from a male before.” Vassa sat up, clutching the blanket to her chest. Her lips pressed into a disappointed frown.

“Do you remember speaking to Prince Lucien last night?” Jurian asked, his shift already half buttoned up. He ran a hand through his shaggy hair.

“Nope. Why?”

“I’m his friend, Jurian. I need to find him right now.”

“Oh, shit.” Vassa now jumped out of bed, and Jurian tried to avert his eyes at her naked, curving form. Vassa donned a silk robe and fluffy pink slippers. “That reminds me, I was looking for my friend, Elain Archeron.”

“Fine, we’ll look for them together.” Jurian finished buckling his pants and strode out the door. The La Bouff mansion was a grand, sweeping thing, filled with stately portraits and exquisite furniture. Nevermind the eye-boggling stares from Vassa’s house staff as he did a semi-walk of shame out into the garden.

The remnants of the ball last night littered the lawn: clothed tables, crumbs and dried puddles of wine everywhere, and lanterns still hanging from the trees. “Lucien,” Jurian whispered loudly. No frog came hopping into view. “Lucien!” Jurian wandered around the back, looking for any sign of the prince.

“Elain!” Vassa’s voice rang out as she hurried out, still dressed in her robe. “Elain, where are you?”

“Lucien!” Jurian got down on his knees and scoured under the tables. Nothing.

“I can’t find her.” Vassa’s voice was pitched with concern. “The servants just gave me a telegram from Nesta this morning, saying Elain hadn’t returned home.”

Gods, where could Lucien possibly be? Jurian’s stomach sank with each passing second. Wretched guilt was crowding out any rational thought, the sun was too bright, he was parched. He shouldn’t have left Lucien alone, shouldn’t have been sleeping with Vassa La Bouff while his friend was being actively pursued by some crazy female.

Vassa was still talking, “...she has golden brown hair, brown eyes, and is taller than me. I had left her in my room to get ready for the ball and—”

“Wait. She was in your room while you were at the ball?”

“Yes?”

“Purple ball gown. Purple slippers. Rose gold tiara.” Fuck. The bet he made with Lucien last night was coming back to Jurian in bits and pieces. And as far-fetched it may be, he had a slight idea of what might have happened.

“You know something, don’t you?” Vassa murmured, going still. “What happened to Elain?” Jurian looked around furtively before grasping Vassa by the wrist and pulling her behind the garden shed.

“Alright, what I’m going to tell you, you are sworn to secrecy.” Vassa nodded, her mouth slightly open. Jurian took a deep breath, trying to think of the best way to say it.

“Lucien was turned into a frog last night, shortly after eating a beignet. According to him, a waitress with pale skin, black hair, and black eyes had given him the beignet. She was trying to catch him. He had gone to find you, to see if you could reverse the curse with a spell or with a kiss.”

“A kiss? Why would a kiss reverse a curse?” Surprisingly, Vassa did not bat an eye at the news of Lucien being turned into a frog. Perhaps turning into animals was a normal part of her witch academics.

“Isn’t that how the old legends go? Kissing a princess?”

“Yes, because they’re legends,” Vassa sighed. “And a Mardi Gras princess? Puh-leeze. The waitress you described sounds like Briallyn, but she’s definitely not part of my household staff.” Her eyes flashed angrily.

“I take it you two know each other,” Jurian replied dryly.

“Yes, we hate each other, actually. School rivals, you know how it goes. She’s a real piece of work.” Vassa clenched her fists and ground her teeth. “I wouldn’t put it past her to intentionally fuck up my life.”

“Alright, alright. But Briallyn is not the end of it. Since you said Elain was in your bedroom, wearing a tiara, it’s possible that Lucien tried to kiss her.”

Vassa stared at Jurian blankly for a half second before she began to laugh. “As if!” the female wheezed. “Elain does not like Lucien, and I doubt she would go around kissing frogs, especially frogs who claim to be Prince Lucien.”

“Alright but hypothetically speaking…could a curse have a double effect and turn a second individual into a frog?” The laughter died from Vassa’s eyes.

“Now that you’re saying that…it is possible. And I recall there was a commotion last night, when we lost one of our lanterns because two frogs were clinging onto it.” Her eyes grew wide. “But there’s no way Elain would have kissed Lucien. Unless…”

“Where did the lantern go?” Jurian demanded. “Do you remember?”

“In the direction of the Bog of Oorid…” Vassa murmured, concern edging her voice. She stared off into the distance, before snapping out of her thoughts and staring Jurian down. “Well? What are you waiting for? Let’s go!”

“Go where? With you?” Jurian sputtered. Vassa glanced at him, tucking a strand of orange hair behind her pointed hair with a wry grin.

“To look for our friends! Aren’t two heads better than one?”

***Vassa***

The male—Jurian—did not seem to hail from nobility, from the way he consumed the croissant she handed him like a starving dog, yet he claimed to be Prince Lucien’s friend. He towered a good head-and-a-half above her, broad shoulders and all, and she had to hurry to match his urgent pace.

Bored of waiting around for Prince Lucien to find her, Vassa had taken one look at Jurian’s brooding expression and decided he needed to lighten up. Taking him to her bedroom so brazenly in front of her parents was a drunken decision for sure, but she would deal with the embarrassment later.

The servant’s uniform he borrowed—a canvas shirt, black vest, and loose brown pants—snug fitted his muscled body. A muscled body…perhaps Jurian was Lucien’s bodyguard. Must be a shit bodyguard, Vassa snickered internally, if Prince Lucien was turned into a frog and lost on his watch.

Vassa’s chuckle morphed into a sinking feeling of guilt—how was she any better? Gods, she should have been making sure Elain had the best Mardi Gras ball of her life, yet she was off canoodling with Jurian instead. At least I’m looking for her now, Vassa told herself.

Catching a steamboat upriver would be the fastest way into the smaller bayou towns, she had claimed. But when Vassa and Jurian arrived at the docks, they were greeted with chaos. Barges were being stocked with weapons and supplies. There was an increased presence of Summer Kingdom warriors patrolling the area, keeping a sharp eye on Colibri’s citizens.

What will King Nostrus do, given his alliance with the Seasonal Kingdoms? I heard the western seas are most unideal for warships this time of year…Have you not heard? Vanserra is marching on Rhodes from land. A group of elderly fae gossiped in a corner while young children scurried furtively around the Summer warriors.

“King Beron Vanserra has declared war on King Helion Spellcleaver?” Jurian squinted at the stack of newspapers on the stand.

“According to sources close to Autumn and Day’s courts, Queen Daphne Vanserra had an affair with King Helion Spellcleaver decades ago. It is alleged that King Spellcleaver is the true father of Prince Lucien Vanserra,” Vassa read aloud. She whipped her head towards Jurian. “Did you know about this?”

Jurian had gone white as a sheet. “No,” he replied, snatching up an issue and scanning it furiously. “Lucien doesn’t even know. He has always thought Beron was his father.”

“Let me see.” Vassa squeezed under his arm and scanned the pages herself. The brush of her bare shoulder against his body made her feel a bit light-headed. “King Spellcleaver is reportedly unaware he had an heir all this time.”By the Mother…Lucien is a prince of Day, not Autumn.”

“The Autumn Queen has sought refuge in the Day Kingdom, citing abusive behavior from her husband. Prince Lucien was last seen in the Summer Kingdom city of Colibri.”

Suddenly, the increased presence of warriors and shoring up of supplies made more sense. Who knew what King Vanserra would do? The Autumn King was cold and ruthless…perhaps he would send his army into Colibri to kill his rival’s only heir.

“I think Lucien being turned into a frog is related to this,” Jurian muttered darkly. The steamboat’s deafening horn blared over the hubbub. “Come on, the boat is leaving soon.”

***Lucien***

The winter morning came bright, early, and warm. Golden sunlight filtered through the gaps in the tree stump, the air filled with trills and chirps of marsh birds. Lucien awoke feeling groggy, his skin dehydrated. Right. He had thrown up at least three times last night. Who knew frogs would have such a low alcohol tolerance?

Lucien crawled out of the tree stump on much more steadier feet. The colored lantern was a sodden mess in the water from where they landed. Several hops away, Elain Archeron had fashioned a raft from sticks and pliable reeds.

Lucien remembered she was a smaller frog, with delicate limbs and agile reflexes. But in the daylight, Elain’s skin was clearly a paler green shade than Lucien’s rich mint green. Her sandy brown stomach and the dark green speckles running down the sides of her body were also more noticeable. And her eyes retained their brown, doe-like aura even in frog form.

Those wide eyes narrowed with disdain once she spotted him. “Finally awake?” she asked, putting her hands on her hips. Lucien stood up on his hind feet—the habit was hard to break—to perform an exaggerated yawn and stretch.

“Good morning, princess,” he replied sarcastically. “Don’t you know a prince like me needs his beauty sleep?” Lucien hopped down onto the raft.

“We need to get back to Colibri and find Vassa.” Elain picked up a long stick and began to push the raft, albeit a bit clumsily. “And stop calling me princess.”

Lucien plopped down on his back, tucking his hands behind his head and savoring the morning sun. Winter was only a name in the Summer Kingdom—every day was warm here. “What’s wrong with being called princess?”

“First of all, you’re saying that with sarcasm. Secondly, I don’t want to be associated with spoiled, rich princes like you.”

“Spoiled?” Lucien was flabbergasted. Rich, yes, but he did not consider himself spoiled. Beron was tough on his four sons, type of parent who doled out punishment rather than gifts. “Most females would love to spend a day out on the water with me.”

“We aren’t relaxing ‘out on the water’, Lucien,” Elain hissed. “We’ve been turned into frogs, all because of you!”

“Lucien? Not even Your Highness or Prince Lucien?” The prince placed a webbed hand on his chest with mock aghast. “Oh, the disrespect.”

“Oh, and you’re arrogant too. Did you scorn Briallyn as a lover? Perhaps this is her revenge.”

Lucien scoffed, “I assure you, I have never seen that female before in my life! I have no idea why she would decide to turn me into a frog.”

“Maybe it’s because you are a spoiled, arrogant, rich, party prince,” he heard Elain mutter under her breath.

Lucien raised a nonexistent brow. “Ah, so do you have a prejudice against all princes? I’ll have to have a word with Prince Tarquin the next time we hang out. He had such kind words to say about you…such a shame it was not reciprocated.”

“Not all princes…just you,” Elain replied coldly. She began rowing with renewed vigor, splashing water into Lucien’s face.

Lucien sighed, choosing to stand up. This female—a frog—had a bit of fire in her spirit. He stopped Elain’s rowing with a firm grip on the stick.

“At this rate, you’ll be attracting all the predators in the bayou.” He offered her a smile that was sure to irritate her. “Allow me.”

Elain handed him the stick and stomped off to the edge of the raft, as far away from him as possible.

“Are you going to tell me why you don’t like me, or are you going to be sulking the rest of the way back to Colibri?” Lucien asked. Elain folded her gangly green arms across her chest.

“I was third place at the jambalaya contest until you showed up last minute.”

“Oh.” Just as he had suspected.

“And then you bought the property that I’ve been eyeing for the last six months,” Elain continued. “It’s where I wanted to open my cafe and you just took it from me. Like the prize money I so desperately needed to purchase the property.”

“I see.” Well, that was new. Tarquin made it sound like Elain Archeron’s first restaurant was bound to open any day, but it seemed like that wasn’t the case anymore. Lucien frowned slightly: what happened, to cause Elain such a setback?

“And then you turned me into a frog. Before I could dance at Vassa’s ball, too! And I’m supposed to participate in more Mardi Gras cooking contests today, to win more money, but I can’t do that now, can I?” Elain sighed.

It all made sense then, why Elain felt so adamant in calling him spoiled and rich. He had taken two things from her—three, if they included the fact that she now existed as a frog.

“I’m sorry about the jambalaya contest,” was all Lucien could say. He meant it, too. “It was not done intentionally. I…I only wanted to participate in the Mardi Gras festivities.” Elain’s expression softened, her big brown eyes blinking with surprise. Lucien bet she didn’t expect “spoiled rich” princes like him to apologize—ever.

“I…accept your apology,” she responded, looking away quickly.

“I’ll give you the prize money,” Lucien added. For a moment, he wondered if she would take offense, since it was the second time he offered to give her money. But Elain sat up straighter, more alert.

“And the riverfront pavilion?” Lucien was silent for a moment. He’d purchased the property in hopes of renovating it for his mother. Beron’s abusive tendencies had ramped up in the last few months to the point where a new bruise or scratch would appear on his mother’s pale white skin every other day.

Eris had initially raged against Beron for those transgressions, and was promptly given ten lashes on the back. The Vanserra princes were powerless against Beron within the Forest House, but…perhaps a secret residence in another kingdom would grant his mother some safety should she ever decide to break her marriage vows. That was what Lucien had hoped, and his mother’s fondness for sunny days and bustling scenes was what drove him to select the riverfront pavilion.

“We’re still frogs, are we not?”

“But I kissed you!” Elain’s brown eyes turned towards him in disbelief.

“My precise words were: if you help break this curse, I will give you the riverfront pavilion. And the cash value of it on top.” Elain glared sullenly at him. Lucien pointed to the golden, swirling band around his upper arm. “The curse is still intact, yes?”

“I take back my acceptance of your apology.”

“Hmm…I don’t think that’s how it works, princess. Hey!” Elain had flicked water onto his ass. She flicked out a long, pink tongue at him in response. “Can’t have you waltzing off on me, Elain, when I don’t know my way back to Colibri.”

“I don’t know my way around the bayou either.”

“Well. I suppose we’re stuck in this together, princess,” Lucien crooned. Another handful of water smacked onto his backside. “And stop splashing me!”

[separatist-apologist]

no gods. no religion.

Just bad, bad decisions

Summary: Galactic Senator Elain Archeron knows her ex-fiance is financing a crime syndicate. All she needs to oust him is a little proof.

And, of course, a pilot.

The prompt: SENATOR ELAIN AND FLYBOY LUCIEN

Part 2 | read on ao3 (OR GIVE ME A KISS) | part 1

14k words so you're not allowed to be mean to me

“Who is your contact?” Lucien asked Marcellus, meeting him just outside the cantina he’d left Elain inside. His mind was just vaguely on this mission, stuck in bed where he’d woken to her cheek pressed to his chest and her leg wedged between his thighs. Lucien had tried—and failed—to convince Elain he was feeling much better.

And she’d rolled her eyes and left him with an aching body and a weeping cock. The bacta had left him stiff, but mostly healed, and he thought he had a stim somewhere on his ship. If he timed it just right, he could do unspeakable, filthy things to her before the inevitable crash into oblivion. 

Marcellus spoke, but Lucien didn’t hear. He should have cared more than he did, but Lucien was unfocused again. Elain, Elain, Elain. Those would be his final thoughts when he was shot dead in the face. He had no regrets, at least. 

Well, maybe one. He wanted to know what it felt like to be inside her, and he supposed dying before he had the chance would be a shame. But other than that, Lucien was mostly fine with leaving the mortal coil having done all he needed to do.

Almost everything he needed to do. 

“You’ll like him,” Marcellus continued, shouting over the sound of the hover car’s engine and the whipping wind. 

Lucien didn’t see how that mattered, even on an illicit job site. He worked with plenty of people he didn’t like—Rhysand Moreno came to mind—and managed to get things done. Lucien also doubted he could possibly like a criminal dedicated to making the galaxy unsafer, given his own position within the Republic. 

This was for Elain, who wasn’t his wife technically, though that didn’t stop Lucien from imagining she was. And he supposed he ought to please her in order to keep his position as husband. It was also for the good of the galaxy, which Lucien cared deeply about. There would always be criminals, always scum and villainy like Graysen and for as long as Lucien was alive, he could fight to make the galaxy a little bit kinder, a little more decent. 

If not for Elain, then for everyone else. 

“And if I don’t?” Lucien questioned as they whizzed over the dunes from the day before. No trace of the gundarks left to rot in the cliffside nest he and Marcellus had invaded. Lucien shifted, breathing deep through the orange scarf Elain had purchased for him. His ribs felt better than they had before, though the bruises in the mirror told him he was lucky nothing had been broken. 

“Where is this place?” Lucien called. It was occurring to him he might be a little too trusting. He was out in the middle of nowhere with a stranger. What was stopping Marcellus from putting a blaster bolt in his head and leaving his own body to feed the desert scavengers? 

“Up ahead,” Marcellus said. Lucien turned his gaze toward the cliffs, stretching into jagged mountains that loomed overhead like a great, craggy beast. Lucien could see, high up and built into the basalt columns, was a smooth, onyx building that likely snaked far below the ground. It was a good place, defensively, for a syndicate to hide out. “Mine is a little further ahead.”

“What the fuck is being mined on this sandy shithole?” Lucien demanded as the hover car came to a silent stop. 

Marcellus only shrugged, hopping over the side. “All I know is whatever it is needs little fingers. Lots of kids inside.”

He didn’t react, though internally the thought made him blanch. “Child labor was outlawed.”

“A lot of things are illegal,” Marcellus reminded Lucien pointedly. It was a reminder that he couldn’t truly be himself, but a version with looser morals. Even criminals had a code, didn’t they?

Why shouldn’t he be a little outraged that Graysen employed children in his sketchy mine? 

“I wouldn’t worry about it too much. Your wife doesn’t seem the sort to let it get that bad.”

“No,” Lucien mused, boots sinking in the sand. “I’m sure she has a contingency if our marriage stops pleasing her.”

Marcellus shot him a sidelong glance, unaware Lucien’s mood wasn’t about Elain but those children, and Graysen, and all the legalities a Senator was willing to break in order to serve his own interests. 

“Explains the gundarks, I guess. I’ve been trying to find a partner for months before you show up. I thought you were looking for an in with Hybern.”

Lucien snorted. “I’m looking for credits.”

“I know that now,” Marcellus said, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. Were all of Hybern’s guys so forthcoming, so chatty? It seemed like a poor quality unless they were specifically trying to recruit. Marcellus was charming, well-spoken and persuasive. A good shot, too. He would have been a good candidate for the Republic, too. Lucien almost regretted having to leave him behind and wondered if he might not do a little recruitment of his own.

“This way,” Marcellus said, gesturing toward a door carved into the mountainside. “We have to be careful now. A Jedi was sniffing around a couple months ago.”

“Out here?” Lucien asked, his surprise genuine. “For what purpose?”

“Works for some uppity Senator looking to shore up his re-election, is my guess,” Marcellus said dispassionately. “She didn’t find much and no one out here wants to bring the Republic down on their necks, so we let her be. But the doors are reinforced.”

It was a warning, just in case Lucien had any smart ideas. “Smart,” was all he said. He only had a blaster on him, and silently cursed himself for not grabbing his vibrodagger which was also technically illegal. He’d forgotten to slide it in his boot, too distracted by Elain winding her hair up in front of the mirror. 

No bombs, though. Lucien ran a hand over his beige shirt, following behind. Marcellus punched a code in a pad too quick for Lucien’s eyes to track, if he’d even thought to. He was focused on the imager peering down at them both, watching their every move. He held his gaze just long enough that whoever was on the other side knew he was aware of its presence before turning back to Marcellus. 

The door hissed open, revealing a dim room and a labyrinth of halls Lucien would never navigate by memory alone. Lights set against the gleaming walls made everything seem brighter once the door closed behind them, causing Lucien to blink as spots blurred his vision. 

Left, right, left again—Lucien repeated the pattern in his head, just in case he needed to make a hasty exit. Marcellus’s pace was clipped, his shoulders set with a sort of grim determination that made Lucien increasingly nervous. Still, he kept his arrogant, easy swagger and his unimpressed expression, even when he was led into a rather small, dank office. The man behind the desk was just that—a man, perhaps a few years older than Lucien, though not by much. The desert hadn’t weathered away his handsome features, though something had made flint out of those pine colored eyes. Blonde hair had been carefully braided off a suntanned face, leaving the powerful man reclining in his chair, surveying Lucien with just as much cool interest as Lucien surveyed him.

“Tamlin, this is Fox,” Marcellus said anxiously. “Took down a nest of gundarks with me. He’s a damn good shot and he’s got a pretty, young wife he’s looking to keep in comfort.”

Tamlin leaned forward, elbows on the sleek metal surface. 

“What kind of work have you done before?”

Lucien offered up what he hoped was a savage smile. “This and that.” 

Tamlin could read well enough between the lines. Holding Lucien’s gaze, he asked, “Good with a blaster?”

Lucien only shrugged. “I’m not dead yet.”

Tamlin reclined back in his seat, steepling his fingers in front of his lips. “I need someone who can help put down a rebellion.”

Lucien’s stomach splattered at his feet. “Oh?” 

“There’s trouble over at the mines. I need someone who can go in and set the workers right again. Instill a little fear.”

No. It was a violation of everything he held dear, of his central, moral code. Lucien rubbed at his jaw, the stubble scraping over the pads of his fingers. “I heard it was mostly children.”

“Children have parents,” Tamlin reminded him cooly. Stars, he thought in a daze. What kind of galaxy allowed children to labor while their parents were held at blaster point? 

“What happens to those children if I kill their parents?” Lucien asked, arching a brow. Beside him, Marcellus shifted uncomfortably.

“Then they become wards of the mine,” Tamlin replied reasonably. Lucien wasn’t stupid. Wards meant no pay—meant slaves. Children who would become adults, assuming they even lived that long, with nothing and no one. Indebted, even, to the mine that had housed and clothed and fed them, regardless of how poor that care had been. 

“I don’t hurt kids,” Lucien said, thinking he had enough information to take back to Elain. There was no fucking way he was taking this job, no way he was going to be the enforcer in the face of tyranny. 

Tamlin paused for a moment, and then slid a small chip over the center of his desk. “Sleep on it. Consider this a good faith payment…for the gundarks,” he added. And Lucien, who was supposed to be a man trying to support his highborn wife, swallowed against the instinct that demanded he tell Tamlin where he could shove his credits.

He took them with greedy fingers, slipping it into his pockets.

“If you change your mind, you know where I am,” Tamlin said with a shrug, reclining back in his chair. His tone very much suggested he knew Lucien would see the credits to be had and set aside those convictions. 

“We’ll be in touch, I’m sure,” Lucien replied.

But all he could think about was those parents, forced to watch their children toil in brutal conditions. Lucien had the tools and resources to help them if he had enough nerve. 

It was impulsive.

It was risky.

It had his name written all over it.

ELAIN:

“So,” Pina began once the early rush of the morning settled enough for Elain to return behind the bar. Her feet were killing her, and Elain thought if one more person tried to pinch her ass she’d slam her metal serving tray straight against their face.

She didn’t think Pina would mind. 

Elain glanced over, bracing her palms against the bartop. “That husband of yours.”

“What about him?” she asked, trying not to think of how she’d woken. Lucien, with his clever, sneaky fingers had been halfway up her nightdress before she stopped him, while her thigh had been wedged between his own, rubbing the thickened length of him. He’d done his best to convince her he was well enough for whatever activities she required from him but Elain had said no.

Not because she didn’t want him, but because the job had to come first. If they started in the morning, there was nothing to keep them from going to their pretend workplaces and unteasing the mystery that Graysen had laid before them. Elain could think of no greater humiliation than admitting she let another man sidetrack her again. 

Pina was committed to rubbing out some invisible spot only she could see. “I see a lot of folks come in and out of this outpost. Ain’t never seen someone like him before. Where’d you pick him up, again?”

“Corellia,” Elain said, certain they’d had this conversation before. “He worked for my father.”

Pina hummed noncommittally, still rubbing the bar. 

“Treats you good? Better than those rich boys I’ll bet you were supposed to end up with?”

Elain felt her throat constrict, because yes, he did—that wasn’t even a lie. “Yeah,” she murmured. “Yeah. He’s a good man.”

“Those are hard to come by. Unlucky he got scooped up by Marcellus, then.”

Finally. Elain didn’t let herself seem to eager as she reached for a stack of cups. “Oh? He seemed nice enough.”

Dumb, sheltered, rich man’s daughter. 

“I didn’t say he wasn’t nice. But those Hybern mercenaries are brutal. He’s always in here recruiting, looking for new blood. They need it, with how they burn through people.”

“Hybern?” Elain forced herself to ask. Why would she know a thing about that? 

Pina’s eyes were pinched at the sides. “That man of yours should inform you better if he’s gonna let you wander around alone. Hybern runs a little outfit in the desert. Mostly spice, but they dabble in all sorts of things.”

“Like the mine?” Elain asked, adopting a wide-eyed look of innocence. Pina’s expression sharpened. 

“That’s run by some off-worlder. I wouldn’t get myself mixed up with that.”

“Lucien says there is nothing worth mining out here,” Elain continued, determined she’d get something she could tell Lucien later. Proof that she wasn’t useless, that she could do this, too. 

Pina shrugged. “He ain’t wrong about that. But no one’s looking this way and if you wanted to slip the Republic’s notice, this is a good place for it.”

“Why would someone want that?” Elain asked, innocent and sweet. Pina looked like she pitied her. 

“Honey, trust me. Don’t go near that mine. Pretty things like you are awfully tempting to the wrong sort. Warn your foolish husband there are things far worse than not having enough credits.”

Elain didn’t need to ask what might be worse. She understood well enough, the way all women in the galaxy.

“You’ve got a job here as long as you want it,” Pina added with clear admiration. And Elain, who’d felt overshadowed her whole life, didn’t realize how badly she craved this small bit of validation. “I’ve never seen this place half as clean, and you’re a nice girl. Don’t see much of that, either.”

Elain couldn’t hide the flush of pleasure spreading over her face. Ducking her head, she said, “Thanks.” 

“Don’t mention it,” Pina told her gruffly, taking off to the other end of the cantina to fill up someones cup. It didn’t take much longer for Lucien to appear, striding in with his thumb hooked into his belt. His eyes swept the room, landing wholly on her. Outwardly, he seemed as arrogant as ever—smug, even, if that smile on his lips was any indication. 

But it was that russet eye of his that told Elain something troubled him. Even when he unhooked his thumb to beckon for her, and Pina sighed with exasperation but said nothing when Elain offered a hasty I’m so sorry! as Lucien hauled her up over his shoulder.

“I’ve got amazing news, baby,” he said, his voice carrying even as he dragged her out into the hottest part of the day. Elain was grateful for the scarf wrapped around her head, inching it up so only her eyes remained uncovered. He didn’t bother, and by the time they returned to their home, he was hacking up a lung. He’d dropped her back to his feet, palms braced on his knees.

“Kriffing hell,” he managed, stumbling to the kitchen for some water. Elain didn’t comment as he drank straight from the tap.

“You forgot your scarf,” she admonished, carefully unpinning it from her hair. Lucien nodded, mouth wide as he gulped down more cool water. 

“My hands were full of your ass—”

“Lucien!”

He only laughed, choking out an, “Sorry, I’m sorry—” while not looking very sorry at all. Hands on her hips, Elain waited for him to straighten out, both eyes eager. 

“Well?” she demanded. “What did you learn?”

“Nolan is using slave labor to run his mine through a little technicality in which he utilizes children, and then executes their parents for complaining about the conditions.”

Well. Elain had expected any number of things. But not that. Dizzy, she reached behind her for the little sofa, collapsing to the lumpy cushions as she fought to catch her breath.

“He…” She couldn’t finish that sentence. Because Elain had believed, deep, deep down, that Graysen was the man she’d fallen in love with. That she would recognize a monster, and all of this was some misunderstanding. Maybe he’d merely gotten caught up in something he shouldn’t. But this new revelation killed any of those hopes she’d been secretly harboring, and buried them, too. 

Lucien knelt before her, one elbow resting on his thigh as he took her hand. “Is that the job, then? Helping with the mine?”

“Putting down some small rebellion,” Lucien admitted, his eyes searching her own. Elain knew, no matter how she asked him not to, that Lucien had already made up his mind to help. What kind of person was she to want him to sit it out, besides? 

“The locals all know it’s an off-worlder running the mine. Maybe we could get some concrete evidence, send it to Nesta, and get it shut down,” she said hopefully. The set of Lucien’s jaw told

Elain exactly how this was going to go. Even when he squeezed her hand and murmured in agreement, she understood he couldn’t leave these people to some horrible fate.

Lucien had honor, and maybe she didn’t, if she didn’t want him to involve himself. 

“Did you learn anything helpful?”

“They’re making something that doesn’t come from the planet,” she said, miserable that both her news wasn’t terribly important and she’d once been set to marry a monster. How could he look at her like that, with so much soft wanting etched into his expression, knowing how foolish, how stupid she’d been? 

“Something for a weapon, right?” he interrupted her thought, his voice earnest. “I’ll bet it’s highly illegal. We’ll find it. Together.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to remind him they weren’t actually married. That he didn’t have to try so hard when they were alone because she still liked him, still wanted him. But then he might stop looking at her like she was the sun and he was merely a planet revolving around her. It was just so nice having his attention like she did. Elain couldn’t remember a time in her life when anyone had looked at her the way he did. 

“Together,” she whispered, returning a squeeze to his callused hand. Lucien stood with a grunt, a reminder that he’d let a group of gundarks kick the shit out of him in service to her. It was worth knowing why he allowed that. 

“Lucien?”

He turned to look at her, though he was still making his way back to the kitchen for more water. “Why did you want to be a pilot?”

“I love to fly,” he replied with that dimpled smile. Elain waited, because she knew Lucien understood what she meant. Surely there was some tragedy that motivated him, something heinous that would explain why Lucien was so dedicated, had risen so quickly, was so respected by her sister.

“It feels decent,” he finally said, bracing his body weight against the counter. “That’s what my mother used to say. We do the right thing because it’s decent and kind. Or…something like that.

But I wanted to be a pilot and work for the Republic because I thought it was decent and kind.”

“Where did you grow up, again?”

“Yavin 4,” he said with a dreamy smile. “Until I was eight, anyway. We moved to the inner core when my dad became a Senator. I went to the naval academy, my brother became a Senator like our father…it was a good childhood, for the most part. I was far luckier than most.”

There was an edge to his voice that suggested, while things had been good, they could have been better. Elain knew better than to pick, in part because she understood that well. There was nothing to complain about, and yet it could have been better, too. She felt ungrateful to say so. 

“I just realized,” she said, staring at Lucien. “Your brother is Eris Vanserra.”

Elain had never put it together, but here, looking at Lucien, she saw the resemblance. Lucien was far more handsome, lovelier in every regard. Nicer, too, by all accounts. She’d never spoken to the Senator, who both outranked her in terms of experience, but was also so intimidating in his scope that Elain had never dared to introduce herself.

And here she was, kissing his brother. 

Lucien offered a rueful smile. “I wondered when you’d realize. Yes, the Eris Vanserra is my brother.”

“I know what that’s like,” Elain offered Lucien as he filled up his cup. “I had Nesta. Feyre, too.”

“Yeah, I’ve met Feyre. She’s something else. In a good way, I mean,” he added quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Wish I’d known about you, though.”

Elain turned her attention back to her nervous hands. “I don’t think that's true. My sisters are so…you know? And I…”

The sound of shuffling feet, and a soft groan brought Lucien back to her. “You’re what?” he asked, his one good eye blazing defiantly. Daring her to say one disparaging thing about herself in his presence. So Elain shrugged, letting her body speak the words her mouth couldn’t quite get out.

“Magnificent?” he supplied, holding her gaze. “Brave? The smartest woman I’ve ever met? Beautiful—”

“Okay, I get it,” she grumbled, though pleasure coiled in her gut all the same. 

“I’m not sorry people don’t see you for what you are,” Lucien murmured, his thumb rubbing the back of her hand. “I might have competition if they did.”

“Lucien,” she chided, but it was clear there was no deterring him. Not when he leaned forward, still on his knees, and pressed his lips to hers. There would be no arguing or shattering whatever fantasy plagued him. That suited Elain just fine, who was living in her own fantasy that when this was all over, she’d get to keep the younger Vanserra. That he’d still want her once the excitement of their mission wore off and he realized how mundane her life truly was. 

In her mind, Lucien wanted stability amid the adrenaline and the chaos of his life as a Commander. And in reality, she suspected once he realized she was none of those things, he’d leave her behind in favor of preserving the rosy, glowing memories of Florrum.

Stars above, though, Elain wanted him beyond reason. Nesta would call her crazy, as if her sister hadn’t run off with a man she’d known half as long, and look at how they were doing. Perhaps it was a trait of the Archerons to fall in love immediately, to know on sight they wanted something. Even when it shattered her, like her engagement to Graysen had done. 

Lucien wasn’t Graysen, though. Lucien was a man of honor, a man who had dedicated his life to serving others on the word of his mother—because it was right, and decent, and kind. 

Nesta had served him up to her, seemingly unaware of how drawn Elain would be to him. Or him to her, if Lucien’s tangled fingers in her hair were any indication. His want was intoxicating and heady, his tongue impossibly soft and juxtaposed with the rough calluses of his skin.

She wanted to feel them scraping her bare skin, wanted to know what it was like to be the sole focus of his attention, if only once. It had been so long since a man had touched her and maybe longer still since she’d even wanted that. 

Lucien stopped before they ever got started. “Not out here,” he panted, pressing his forehead against her own. “You should know…I was offered a job. I could go to the mine…or the factory…or whatever nightmare Graysen has concocted.”

He said the words as if they pained him.

“What’s the catch?” Elain asked, holding his face lightly between her fingertips. 

“Putting down the rebellion. Making an orphan of more kids that, even if Graysen disappears, won’t have anywhere to go.”

He didn’t add what his eyes were so desperately trying to say. Taking the job might wreck his very soul. Lucien wasn’t the kind to aid tyranny, and here he was, apologetically trying to explain his limitations to her own mission. Silently pleading with her not to make him do it, to let them find some other way to infiltrate that didn’t involve his blaster pointed at innocents.

Was she any better than Graysen if she told Lucien to do it? She didn’t think Lucien would keep looking at her with those eyes if she begged him to.

“Another way,” she said instead, because that seemed decent and kind. And Elain wanted to be that kind of person, too. The sort that Lucien always looked at the way he was right then. Relief flooded his expression, warning her as sure as the sun overhead. “Let's talk about it.” His expression sharpened. “We can talk later,” he said, hoisting her up from the couch with a soft grunt of pain. 

“You’re still hurt,” Elain protested, though it was weak, even to her own ears. 

“I’m starting to think you don’t want to see me naked,” Lucien teased, walking the ten steps to the bed. He dropped her atop it, hesitating as he waited for her response. Do you? 

“I don’t want to have to explain to my sister why her best pilot is in the med bay,” Elain replied with what she hoped was an easy-going smile. “I’m not going anywhere, Lucien.”

“Are you sure?” he replied, crawling toward her. “Because sometimes I think I dreamt you up.”

“We can wait—”

“Is that what you want?” he asked, carefully emphasizing his words. The implication, of course, was that he very much did not want that, but would respect it because he cared about her. 

“No,” she whispered, thinking just this once, she could have the thing she wanted. She could have him, and it wouldn’t all go spectacularly wrong. “No, that’s not what I want, Lucien.”

He exhaled sharply. “Good. I might have died if you’d said yes.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to be reckless. To tell him she thought she could love him, to ask him if he thought he might stay when the whole thing was over. She didn’t, though. Didn’t dare, not when he was pressing her back into the mattress and peppering her mouth with feather soft kisses. 

Maybe the wanting was enough. 

LUCIEN:

Lucien was ruined, and he hadn’t taken off a stitch of clothing. 

He wanted to take things slow, to draw her out and really enjoy her their first time. More than anything, though, Lucien wanted to give her a reason to crawl into bed with him again—to want to see him when the mission was over and she realized how absurd his schedule was. What kind of woman wanted a man who could be gone for weeks at a time? Who couldn’t always reliably reach a comm to let her know he was okay? For someone as whip smart and put together as Elain, he imagined she wanted stability, a thing he wasn’t sure he could reasonably offer. 

Not in the ways he was sure she’d imagined, at any rate. 

He’d come home to her, though, and some hopeful part of him wanted to believe that was enough. That whatever was shimmering between them was compelling to her, a reason to stick around when they finished. And if not, well, Lucien hoped his cock would silence whatever objections she almost certainly had. Some small part of him wondered if he wasn’t trapped in the most incandescent dream. Elain had her arms around his neck, coming through his hair until the leather strap he’d used to tie it off his face was wrapped around her wrist and the strands were unbound. 

His brain was screaming, urging him to move faster before she came to her senses and realized what he was trying to do to her. At any moment she might open her eyes, really see him, and pull away in revulsion.

That had never happened to Lucien, but if it was going to, he knew it would be with her. Lucien had the maddening habit of losing the things he cared about no matter how desperately he tried to hold on to them. She would leave, too—would realize the life he was offering was too simple, unfussy and uncomplicated. He wasn’t his brother, and though he had credits squirreled away, he couldn’t give her the life of a princess no matter how often he called her that.

Elain’s thumbs slid over his cheeks, brushing against the stubble clinging to his jaw. “What are you thinking about?” she breathed, arching her neck for him. 

“How kriffing pretty you are,” he lied, licking the column of her throat. Elain squirmed beneath him, hooking her ankle around his leg so they were all but aligned. “And how cumbersome these clothes are.”

“Take them off,” she breathed, eyes closed. 

It took Lucien a moment to truly register what she’d said. Take them off, her clothes, take them off—

It was the most inelegant moment of his life. Lucien had once believed he was rather suave, cool in the face of the unknown. He’d never had a true test like Elain Archeron before, arching and shifting so he could pull that tunic over her head and slide the pants from her body. Elain pushed her hips upward, grinding against his already hard cock so Lucien could remove the last of her underthings. He flung them unceremoniously somewhere behind him, greedy eyes never leaving her lush, naked form. Gods, but he hadn’t been lying when he’d said she was pretty. Truthfully, he was underselling what she was, but there wasn’t a word in any language Lucien knew that could wholly encompass the sight of her.

“Now you,” Elain said, trying to raise herself up on her elbows. Lucien wanted her to undress him and couldn’t stand the thought of not seeing her splayed out, hair a wild halo around her heartshaped face.

“I do as you command.” His voice was a rough whisper, his need making a mockery of him. Still, Lucien somehow got that shirt over his head and his boots off his feet. He had to stand in order to kick of his pants and his own undergarments, all the while Elain watched with sharp, hungry interest.

He was, perhaps, a little too theatrical when he let his cock spring free. Elain’s lips parted at the sight, filling Lucien with more than a little masculine pride. He stood there for a moment, flexing his abs while Elain kept her eyes directly on his cock.

“Are you coming back?” she finally asked, a soft smile twitching over those kiss bruised lips. 

“I find myself distracted,” he admitted, giving himself a quick stroke thinking it would take the edge off his lust. He should have known his previously neglected erection would jump with excitement, begging him to touch himself again.

“By what?” she asked, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

“You,” he breathed, settling himself between her parted thighs. This was happening. If he’d wanted to forgo everything, Lucien could have slid himself right inside her with a whispered, no takebacks. 

He wasn’t ready to be finished. Not by a longshot. Content to rub himself against her, letting his cock tease everywhere but where she was so clearly wanted, Lucien came back for a messy, heated kiss. He couldn’t keep his hands confined to her hair, though he knew the minute he was buried inside her, he was coming back for those tangled curls. He wanted his to put his face in the crook of her neck, wanted to be flush against them so not even light could penetrate between the space of their bodies. Just them—just this. 

Elain moaned, tracing his spine with her fingernails. When she reached his ass, she squeezed, pushing them closer together. Lucien gasped, his cock sliding against the slick heat of her pussy. If he’d shifted even an inch to the left he’d be buried inside her without even trying and every last nerve beneath his skin begged him to do it. 

That would mean he didn’t get to taste her, and to Lucien, that felt sacreligious. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to move, rolling his hips carefully so the skin of his cock coated against the dripping wet of her cunt without ever penetrating her. He just wanted to kiss, wanted to touch and tease her pretty, perky breasts while she gasped and moaned and writhed beneath him. 

“Please,” she whispered into his ear, but Lucien didn’t relent. He couldn’t remember the last time anything had felt so good. Her skin was soft and Elain was absurdly responsive—and Lucien was determined to find every little spot that made her eyes roll up into her head. Behind her ear, the crook of her neck, just beneath her collarbone all elicited that same breathless, “Lucien,” that he was suddenly addicted to. 

She had no idea the sheer power she wielded. Lucien would have done anything she told him to in that moment. Elain could have demanded he stop, redress himself, and destroy the entire outpost and Lucien didn’t think he’d have the strength to tell her no. It was pure luck that Elain was the exact sort of woman he’d been dreaming about his entire life.

She was far too kind to ever demand the suffering of others, though perhaps she enjoyed making him suffer, if only a little. With one last, valiant effort, Elain attempted to realign them, to drag his desperate cock into her body. Lucien angled his hips and slid further down her body, grinding himself against the bedsheets in an attempt to soothe his rageful cock. 

Soon, he told himself, as if that did anything for the sirens currently screaming in his brain. He could have lingered at her breasts, sucking rosy nipples in between his teeth until it was her bucking into the air, clawing at his shoulders to please, Lucien, please—but Lucien had an objective.

He could be singled-minded on a mission. Driven to the point of obsession, even. And all Lucien wanted was to make his way down her soft, unblemished body until he was eye level with her pretty, pink pussy. 

“Tell me you want this,” he whispered, rubbing his fingers over the swollen, nestled bud. Elain moaned loudly as his fingers circled idly, watching how her back arched up off the mattress, thrusting her breasts high in the air. Fuck, but Lucien was so ruined. There was no coming back from this. If she left him, he’d spend the rest of his life right here in this bed. “Tell me you want to come all over my tongue.”

“Lucien,” she tried, but he wanted to make it difficult. Wanted to draw out her pleasure. They were alone on this backwater planet, surrounded by whipping wind that would disguise any and all noise they made. He’d never get a better chance to make Elain scream—when they returned to Coruscant, it was impossible that someone wouldn’t hear them, wouldn’t know what they were up to, given how people were stacked atop each other. 

Lucien adjusted himself, holding his body up on his elbows so he could slide a finger into her body. She immediately clamped against him, so tight his head fell between her hips and his eyes rolled up into his skull. 

“Tell me, princess, that you want me to taste you,” he managed, sliding that finger in and out with a tortured slowness, his other finger still drawing lazy circles over her clit. It was possible she didn’t hear him, prompting Lucien to tease around her clit, not touching close enough to give her what she so clearly needed.

Elain’s eyes flew open.

“Tell me to fuck you with my tongue,” Lucien ordered, holding her gaze. Please, he wanted to say. 

“I want you to taste me,” she managed, her cheeks flaming red. She was sweet—wanton and yet still embarrassed to tell him what she wanted. Still, it was good enough to lower his mouth, still holding those brown eyes so she could watch him take an exaggerated lick.

Elain was sweet everywhere. He groaned, not for effect, but because his cock immediately responded. Pleasure slithered into his gut, stilted by the lack of stimulation and still heady and bright. Lucien became half animal in that moment, chasing the taste of her arousal while forgetting he was supposed to be teasing her. It couldn’t be helped—this was for him, now, though she was taking an immense amount of pleasure from his mouth and hand. Elain rolled against his face, draping a leg over his shoulder, the other spread wide. 

Lucien didn’t stop, using the flat of his tongue to rub before sucking her between his lips, all the while watching to see what drew the loudest reaction. What did she like? What would break her apart? He managed to fit a second, and then a third finger into her body, carefully thrusting as he worked her open in preparation for his cock. 

“Lucien,” Elain begged, the prettiest sound he’d ever heard in his life. “Lucien, please—”

She screamed. Thighs clamped tight around his face so he couldn’t move even if he’d wanted, which he decidedly did not. A bolt of white hot excitement flared through him, watching her come. It was as though some unseen being pulled at her strings, lifting her spine clean off the bed. Fingers curled in the sheets, pulling them from the edge of the mattress before they made their way to his hair, knotting in the strands and pushing him closer and closer before yanking with a gasping plea. 

“More,” Elain begged, tugging when he wouldn’t stop. Lucien didn’t want to—he wanted to watch her come apart like that again, wanted to taste the sweetness of her orgasm flood his mouth and coat his fingers.

You can watch her when she comes on your cock, his brain screamed at him. It was, he decided, a compelling point. Lucien released her, pulling his fingers from her body only to press them against her lips.

“Taste yourself,” he demanded, sliding a finger against her pretty tongue. Elain sucked, eyes dark and wide. Lucien couldn’t help his groan, nor could he help how her wet, gliding tongue seemed to lick at his cock, too. He pulled back, kissing her with still wet lips. Pressing his tongue into her mouth, Elain kissed him back greedily, drinking in the salty sweet taste of her body with a pretty, soft moan.

This time, when she hooked a leg around his waist, Lucien didn’t angle away but slotted his cock against her. He could feel her thudding heart even at the opening, and when he pushed himself in just to the head, she convulsed in the aftershocks of his mouth, drawing him in further.

“Fuck,” he whispered, pulling from the kiss to bury his face in the crook of her neck. She smelled sweet like honey and floral like the shampoo and soap she used. 

Elain dug her heels against his ass, shoving until he was flush against her, buried to the root in her body. Lucien couldn’t breathe, his heart jumping frantically in his throat. She was so wet, so tight and hot and still coming down from that first orgasm. Tangling his hands in her hair, Lucien kissed the skin between her throat and shoulders, adjusting the the silken heat of her body.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked, refusing to move an inch until she responded.

“Yes,” Elain gasped, sinking her teeth into his arm. Lucien jerked, thrusting himself deeper into her body. 

“Do you want more?”

“Yes.”

Lucien would give her more. Drawing himself all the way out felt like some kind of sin, while driving himself back into her felt like home. He’d wanted to hold himself against her, but Lucien needed to see, needed to watch his cock slide in and out of her body. Pushing himself up, Lucien spread her legs wide apart, bending them at the knees so they were pressed to her chest.

“Look at how well you take me, Elain,” he groaned, addicted to the sight. It was the most arousing thing he’d ever seen in his life, heightened by the sheer pleasure he felt being gripped by her pussy. “You were made for my cock.”

Elain dug her nails into his forearms. Looking at him, he found her pupils blown out, eyes wide. “More,” she moaned. He understood what she was asking for, releasing one of her legs to return back to her clit. Still pink, still swollen from his lips and tongue, Lucien began rubbing wet, tight circles around it until Elain squeezed so tight stars spotted in his vision. He was going to come, even with his ass clenched tight and his mind reciting star charts in an attempt to distract him, Lucien was building hotter and hotter. 

Elain, too, by the looks of it. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life, bucking and moaning beneath him. Nothing in his life could touch this moment for perfection, and when Elain came again, squeezing around him as her lips parted in a wordless scream, Lucien tumbled over the edge with her.

His cock pulsated, thrusting wildly without rhythm—only the frantic, instinctual need to get deeper, closer. He couldn’t breathe, his skin so tight he thought he might explode into glittering dust motes in the bright sunlight flooding the room. Even when there was nothing left and his muscles began to tremble, his body spent, Lucien couldn’t bring himself to pull out of her.

He did collapse atop her, kissing her until Elain turned her head to suck in a loud breath of air.

“Was it good?” he asked her, searching her expression for some clue. “Did you like it?”

“Yes,” she replied, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Yes, Lucien, I liked it. Liked you.”

It was only that admission, spoken to just him and the desert sun, that convinced Lucien to withdraw his throbbing cock from her body so he could watch his come slide down her swollen pussy and drip onto the sheets.

“What are you doing?” she asked him, raised up on her elbows when he went to settle back between her legs.

“Do you have somewhere to be today?” he asked, slicking his fingers through the mess. 

“No,” she admitted.

Lucien grinned. “Good. Neither do I.”

ELAIN: 

“I have to go to work, Lucien.”

His answering groan was the only response she was gonna get. Fingers knotted in her hair, pushing her face back toward his erect cock, a not so subtle attempt to convince her she ought to keep sucking. It was so fun to watch him squirm and writhe and moan—and sometimes, beg, too. She very much liked hearing Commander Vanserra beg her to touch him, to lick him, to fuck him so hard he couldn’t see straight. 

Elain drew him back into her mouth, cognizant that she’d been edging him for the better part of an hour and he was likely three or four good sucks from coming apart. Her aching jaw begged her to finish this, though every other part of her wanted to stay nestled between his splayed legs.

When she said she had to go to work, she was talking more to herself than to him. She was going to be late, and Pina had been so generous that it seemed cruel to betray that. 

So Elain drew Lucien into her throat, letting him push her until she gagged softly. She made up the difference with her hand, stroking and sucking while watching him. Lucien moaned, his feet sliding up and down the slippery sheets. His other hand splayed over his chest, rubbing his skin as thought alleviate some unseen ache.

Elain was right—one, two, three—

“Elain!” he gasped, gripping her hair so tight she could feel him ripping it from the scalp. Fluid flooded her mouth, making a messy of his skin and her face. Elain did her best to swallow what she could, though the rest dripped over his stomach and the bed they desperately needed to wash. 

She released him with a little kiss to the head of his throbbing cock, earning an exhilarated, panting smile. 

She couldn’t help herself. “Was it good for you, Lucien?”

“Oh, stop,” he grumbled, reaching for her. Elain scrambled from his grasp, giggling as she went. Ever since they’d first slept together, Lucien always asked if she’d liked what he’d done—if it had been good for her. Elain appreciated what he was doing, that he cared enough to get verbal confirmation she’d finished, that she’d had fun. And still it felt wildly unnecessary. He could feel her come around his cock and fingers and tongue. He could hear her breathlessly begging him not to stop, for more, screaming, even, when pleasure overwhelmed her to the point speech was no longer effective or possible. 

Lucien didn’t manage to sit up until Elain had shimmied a tunic back over her head, belting it at the waist. She didn’t prefer pants, but the tunic was practical in the heat and the pants beneath allowed her to strap a holster to her leg and carry the little blaster Lucien had given her.

Lucien sighed as she dressed, his expression contemplative again. They were stalled on their mission, with nothing to report to Nesta after that first contact with Hybern. Elain kept a low profile and ingratiated herself with the locals while Lucien picked up odd jobs and tried to find a reason to get closer to the mine. 

How much longer before Nesta pulled the plug on the entire thing? Her last message had sounded gently irritated. Elain wanted to ask Lucien if Nesta had told him to placate her and couldn’t make herself say the words.

So she went to work each morning with a smile, and when she couldn’t figure out how to get people to tell her what she wanted to know, she came home and made love to Lucien until she forgot her impending failure.

He padded over to her, brushing his fingers over her covered shoulders. In turn, Elain reached for his forearm, tracing the thick, black bars of his tattoo. She wondered if he’d get to add another stripe if they did manage to take down Graysen.

“Have a good day, princess,” he said, pressing a swift kiss to her mouth. “I’ll clean this place up and reach out to Archeron. She might have an idea.”

He didn’t sound hopeful, though. Still, Elain flashed Lucien a sunny smile. They were a team and he wanted her to succeed. She didn’t need him to say so to know how he felt, at least in that regard. Everything else felt up in the air to her, unsettled until they returned to Coruscant. Elain was trying not to worry about Lucien leaving her, and yet the thought plagued her the entire way to the cantina. 

It was strange how normal this job had become. Before it, Elain had never worked a job like that a day in her life. She’d gone from tutors to the Senate Hall on Coruscant, and her work consisted of more cerebral pursuits. There was something immensely satisfying about serving people, though. 

Elain never had to construct policy from nothing, nor did she had to create contingency arguments for if her argument wasn’t persuasive enough. She could merely raise her tray if someone was irritating her and hold out her hand until credits were dropped into her palm.

She was saving them as a gift for Pina when she left. 

It was quiet when Elain came in, with a few regulars tucked away in shadowy corners. A blonde she didn’t recognize sat at the bar top, holding a tarnished mug in one hand. Their eyes met when Elain slipped back to tie her apron around her waist. Elain had gotten used to the way people looked on Florrum—the hot, unrelenting sun weathered their skin, aging them quicker than had they not lived on a desert planet. 

This woman couldn’t have been a whole lot older than Elain. She was stunning, maybe the first truly beautiful person Elain had seen since she arrived. Blond tendrils of hair slipped from beneath a tan scarf wrapped elegantly around her head and throat, framing the rich golden brown of her flawless skin. Green eyes tracked Elain’s movement, while slim fingers tapped out some unknown melody against the side of her cup. She wasn’t from around here, then.

Maybe she’d just come in.

Or maybe Graysen was on to Elain. The only way to find out was to walk to her, smiling, and say, “I haven’t seen you around here.”

“I could say the same,” the woman replied, offering Elain a lovely, bright smile. “You just get in?”

“A week ago,” Elain admitted. “I’m Rose. You?”

The woman’s eyes widened ever so slightly, lips twitching like she knew Elain was a liar. Still, she extended a hand while saying, “Arina.”

“Need another?”

Arina shook her head. “No. I heard a rumor though, and maybe you can help me out. I hear the man I’m looking for has an exceptionally beautiful wife, and I’m guessing that’s you.”

Elain’s heart stumbled. “You’re looking for Fox?”

“Is that his name? Yes, I suppose I am. I heard he met with someone I’ve been looking for—I have some questions. No trouble,” she added, catching Elain’s unhidden apprehension. “And I’ll pay him for his time.”

“I don’t know where he went,” Elain lied, which might have been convincing had Lucien not strolled right in, grinning like a fiend. He spared Arina a cursory glance of curiosity before sauntering toward her in his tight, brown pants and a long-sleeved, green shirt that clung to his muscular chest. He’d rolled his sleeves to the elbows, and hidden his tattoo beneath a leather wrapped vambrace snug against his wrist. A low slung belt over his hips held his rather large blaster, and tucked beneath his arm was his pilot's helmet. 

“Going somewhere?” she asked him breathlessly when he leaned casually against the bar.

“I’m gonna check in on the ship,” he told her, his grin so wide she could see the little indentations of the dimples in his cheek. 

Arina had angled her body toward him, looking at Lucien with warmth. Elain had to swallow her jealousy when the woman reached for his arm and touched gently. “Fox, right?”

Lucien spared her another look, brow furrowing. “Depends on who’s asking.”

“I have some questions. About Tamlin,” she added pointedly. Lucien’s expression flattened.

“Who?”

It was fun to watch him. Arina seemed taken aback, as though she genuinely expected Lucien to just blurt it all out in a cantina filled with watchful eyes and listening ears. She wasn’t from around here, then. Elain felt positively gleeful as Arina gaped, trying to regain her bearings.

“Take a walk with me,” she said, her voice strangely suggestive. Lucien blinked.

“Sure,” he said, pushing off the counter. Lucien didn’t look back, vanishing into the sunlight. Elain was tempted to follow him, but the blonde was replaced immediately by a new, lean body half hidden beneath a dark, black scarf.

“What can I get you?” Elain asked, still distracted by Lucien and Arina.

The man before her inched the scarf over a shockingly familiar face. Her heart leapt into her throat. 

“I don’t know, baby,” Graysen murmured, his brown eyes flashing with ire. “What’s your favorite?”

He waited, holding her gaze, and when she didn’t speak, leaned forward. “I miss you.”

Still, Elain remained silent, though she knew her presence was damning. Elain wanted to scream for Lucien that the woman was a trap, but she couldn’t move. Pinned beneath Graysen’s damning gaze, she waited for him to do something.

“Nothing to say?” he asked with a sigh. “That’s just as well. You know, if it were anyone else out here, I’d chalk it up to some junior Senator trying to make a name for themselves and let it go.

But not you. Never you,” he added with a soft snarl. 

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice you snooping around in my accounts? That I wasn’t watching you after that? I wanted to believe you were just heartbroken and looking for answers so imagine my surprise when I saw a fucking Vanserra sniffing around.”

Elain couldn’t breathe, though she could convince herself to speak, if only to say, “Don’t hurt him.”

“I haven’t done anything, baby. His death is on your hands. You dragged him out here. You convinced him this was a worthwhile use of his time. You’re the problem, Elain. You never know when to leave well enough alone, do you?”

“Please,” she whispered, but Graysen shook his head. 

“None of that. It’s beneath you. Now. Are you going to walk out with me, or am I going to have to kill everyone in here to convince you?”

“I’ll go,” she whispered. Elain nearly untied her apron before realizing it was the only thing concealing the blaster at her side. Graysen hadn’t demanded she disarm herself and why would he?

He knew she’d never touched a weapon in her life and wasn’t about to start now. 

Only, Elain would. She knew it in her bones when his fingers curled around her wrist to yank her into the heat. If he hurt Lucien, Elain would make him suffer for it. 

Her career almost didn’t matter. 

LUCIEN:

“What the fuck, Arina,” Lucien hissed the second they were just out of view. “Don’t pull that shit on me.”

She waved a hand in front of his face only for Lucien to smack it away, irritated Arina had used her Jedi manipulations to convince him to go outside. Hidden just outside the hanger, Lucien readjusted his helmet beneath his arm.

“You weren’t going to leave if I didn’t,” she said unapologetically, shrugging those slim shoulders. Lucien narrowed his eyes.

“Where is my brother?”

Arina was the Jedi assigned to Eris, once upon a time. He recalled a conversation in which his brother ranted about not needing a security detail despite an active bounty on his head. Arina had, as far as Lucien knew, settled that score at the point of her yellow lightsaber. Lucien wasn’t entirely sure what happened after that—but he knew whatever had transpired between Arina and Eris had ended on poor terms. 

Her eyes became flinty. 

“Where have you been?” Lucien added, because he had it on good authority Arina hadn’t been on Coruscant for at least a year. Maybe longer, even—it had been three years since she’d worked with his brother. Lucien knew Eris was difficult, but surely he wasn’t so awful he could rob her of the Jedi path, or whatever it was the Jedi were doing. 

“You spoke with Tamlin,” she said instead, drawing a lungful of air through her scarf. “What did he want?”

“To put down a rebellion,” Lucien replied. “I guess you’re the Jedi that was sniffing around?”

She only rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t call it sniffing. I came here, I found trouble. Isn’t that the way?”

A question in her eyes asked what, exactly, Lucien was doing so far from home, in a ship that was decidedly not his usual X-Wing. And like Arina, who chose not to answer him regarding,

Lucien was disinclined to give her everything she wanted. 

“Tell me what you want, Arina, so I can get back to—”

“To Elain Archeron?” she asked, those eyes seeing far too much. “I can’t wait to hear what Nesta has to say about the two of you shacking up in the outer rim.”

Shacking up. Lucien bristled at the crude language and the insinuation something untoward was happening. 

“She’s my wife, first of all,” Lucien snapped, ignoring Arina’s amused laugh.

“You Vanserras are all the same,” she said, amusement lacing her tone. Lucien raised his eyebrows but Arina lifted a hand. “Tell me what you know about Tamlin.”

“I don't know anything,” he said through gritted teeth, trying so hard to resist the compulsion. “Kriffing stars Arina, don’t use that bullshit on me.”

“You have a strong mind,” she said, which was the first thing she’d ever said to him when they’d met all those years ago. Eris had merely glared, and Lucien suspected he, too, had been subjected to her little tricks. “And that’s disappointing. I was hoping—”

An explosion rocked the world around them. Arina flung out a hand, creating some barrier Lucien couldn’t see to prevent rubble from outright killing them, though it didn’t stop him from being thrown through the air. He collided with a metal beam connecting a ramp to the hangar, only to fall face first back into the sand.

He groaned against the radiating pain, his ears ringing from the explosion. Lucien’s hearing was already bad given how often he was subjected to the deafening blasts of blown up ships and this was unlikely to make things better. He distinctly recalled the medic on Coruscant warning him he was likely to go deaf he didn’t start plugging up his ears—which he did on missions, but not when he was standing out in the open. 

Arina’s eyes were as wide as saucers while Lucien scanned the sky. Surely this was some sort of aerial attack. Surely…surely it hadn’t come from the ground. Only the sky was a clear blue save for the plume of rising smoke. Lucien rose to his feet on shaky legs, thinking of Elain.

Arina pulled the scarf over her mouth, speaking to him rapidly though Lucien couldn’t hear her. All he could think about was Elain, likely cowering behind the bar, terrified and unsure what had happened. She had his blaster—she’d be okay. He just needed—

“Lucien!” Arina screamed, hitting him hard in the face. He blinked, focusing back on the Jedi before him. “You can’t…you…the cantina is gone.”

No. Lucien hadn’t realized he’d shouted it in Arina’s face until she stepped back, visibly upset by his reaction. He didn’t care, staggering forward because it wasn’t possible that Elain—his Elain—was gone. He couldn’t make sense of it. Of course she’d be okay. Lucien made his way through the sand as far as he could, drinking in the blast radius. More than just the cantina was gone—everything around it had been demolished in the resulting explosion. 

Including their little house, the place they’d been living in for the last week. It was like Elain had been erased entirely and every memory he shared was taken, too.

Lucien felt Arina’s hand on his shoulder, and swore if she said some shit about letting go, he’d kill her. She didn’t, though. She merely stood there beside him, touching him gently while Lucien’s hearing began to come back to him piecemeal. The longer he stared at the inferno, at the curling, acrid smoke, the more he knew that this was Hybern’s doing. 

And he wondered if he hadn’t brought this down on Elain by refusing Tamlin.

“You want to meet the Syndicate still?” he asked, thinking if Elain was gone, he’d take the rest of them with her. 

“Lucien,” she warned, though that wasn’t a no.

“You can come with me, or you can go home,” he said, turning back toward his ship. Lucien wasn’t walking through the front fucking door this time.

He was going to blow apart that mountain.

ELAIN:

Nice and tidy. That’s what Graysen had said right before he’d blown the cantina apart. It was, as he’d so helpfully explained, a warning to his enemies and, she thought, his attempt to erase that she’d ever been on Florrum. He’d taken out so much of the outpost that Elain couldn’t be sure Lucien had survived, though she hoped he had.

Hoped he was halfway to the desert with Arina, blissfully unaware of what was happening. Graysen lamented having to make a trip all the way from Coruscant to deal with her as if she were some wayward child. As if she were the one who had done something wrong. She supposed to Graysen, who didn’t like things that didn’t go exactly his way, she had done something wrong. She’d disobeyed him, had risked his source of income.

So Elain sat in the speeder with her hands in her lap hoping she looked appropriately contrite and not furious. He hadn’t noticed her blaster, in part because he didn’t think he needed to. She could end it right then and there if she only had the nerve. Elain wasn’t sure she did and had just managed to convince herself that if Graysen wanted her dead, he would have killed her instead of taking her up a massive cliffside toward some towering, black stone castle.

Graysen gestured for her to follow him off the landing pad and when she didn’t, he shoved her hard enough it was only luck that kept her from flying flat on her face. Stumbling toward several unsmiling guards in tusked masks. Neither of them noticed her blaster, either. She supposed she had her spectacle to blame for that. Still, Elain kept herself silent and small, leaning closer to Graysen when that heavy, armored door opened. 

“Gray,” she breathed, drinking in the artifice of the interior. “What have you done?”

“I used to wonder what you’d make of all this. That was before you bitch of a sister told me your inheritance was forfeit if you married me. But back then, I imagined running this empire with you.”

Elain blinked. “Nesta…Nesta said what?”

As far as Elain knew, she had no inheritance. Her family had money, of course, and when her mother died it was divided among all three sisters, but not as inheritance or a trust, but just money they kept in their accounts. Graysen should have known that—Elain had given him access to her accounts. 

“Your sister told me you’d lose your inheritance if you didn’t marry a member of the Naboo royal family. She assured me you didn’t care, but…”

But of course Graysen cared. And Nesta must have known that, too. She’d have seen what Elain missed, too love sick and desperate for anyone to truly see her for the first time in her life. Ordinarily it would have infuriated Elain to learn her sister had meddled in her life, but now she felt nothing but the warm rush of gratitude. 

Elain couldn’t imagine being married to Graysen. What a miserable existence he offered and even if he’d stolen her chance at real, lasting happiness, Elain had a taste for it now. She wouldn’t be fooled again. 

“Of course,” Elain managed, her thoughts interrupted by a sliding door and the sight of another all too familiar face. Eris Vanserra sat in the middle of an otherwise dim, red-lit room. Stuncuffs restrained his wrists and a bolt around his neck likely kept him from getting up and enacting the violence his amber eyes were promising.

Graysen reached for a blaster tucked into a holster at his hip. “Let me explain to the two of you how this is going to go. There is one blaster and only two of you. Surely you see the predicament? No? Let me explain—”

“Oh, by all means, Senator,” Eris interrupted dryly, his words dripping with condemnation. “All anyone wants is another of your long winded speeches.”

Graysen’s lip curled up over his teeth as he strode toward the elder Vanserra, dressed in his Coruscant best. Disarmed, his cheek dotted with mottled, purple bruises. How long had he been here, she wondered? Elain had never seen Eris Vanserra so rumpled, so vicious and feral. 

Graysen unshackled Eris only for Eris to immediately smash his face against Graysen’s. Graysen stumbled back, dropping the blaster between the two of them. Both Eris and Graysen paused, looking at each other and their mirrored, bleeding noses, and then to the floor.

Elain withdrew Lucien’s baster, finger on the trigger. 

“Let me tell you how this is going to go,” Elain said softly. Eris smiled through blood stained teeth, lunging for the other blaster while Graysen whirled, clearly stunned. 

“You can’t escape,” he told them, spitting to the glossy floor. “Even if you kill me—”

“Oh, I definitely plan to,” Eris snarled, stepping a little closer. “What was it you said to me? Ah, right. On your knees, Senator.”

“Killing me won’t bring back the Jedi,” Graysen snapped, though he did as Eris said with a calculated, careful slowness. “Won’t bring back the child.”

Eris had become so very pale and so very still. “Maybe not,” he finally said, swallowing audibly. Elain wondered if she was imagining the tremble of his hand. She braced herself for what was surely coming. Eris was too lost in Graysen’s words, and for all his skill, all his experience, whatever the lost Jedi and child meant clearly had rattled him.

Graysen had always been so good at identifying a weakness only to exploit it later. 

The problem, she thought, was Graysen didn’t understand what motivated Eris Vanserra, because he said, “Think of what we could do together. There is money to be made in these outer rim planets. The Republic doesn’t look this far, doesn’t care. And we’re doing them a service, employing them…it’s only fair we make a little more.”

Eris’s expression flattened. “And if it's our children being sent to the mine? What then, Senator?”

Eris was going to kill him, wasn’t thinking of the implications. If Graysen died, how would they ever tie any of this back to him? Someone else would merely take over and she’d have to start all over. Graysen deserved to be held accountable, to stand before a tribunal and atone for what he’d done. 

Elain didn’t give Graysen a chance to respond and instead brought the butt of her blaster against his head and smashed as hard as she could. Elain didn’t truly think it would work until Graysen crumpled in a heap at Eris’s feet.

“You know he was going to make one of us kill the other, right?” Eris hissed, eyes narrowed to slits.

Elain crouched, fishing out the key to the bolt wrapped around Eris’s neck. “Yes. But this planet deserves justice, and killing him is a mercy.”

“You will regret this moment,” Eris told her, tossing the bolt to the floor with a loud clank. 

“No, I don’t think I will,” Elain replied, thinking of what Lucien had told her. “Sparing him is decent and its kind, and—”

“That's far more than he deserves. I see my idiot brother has rotted out your good sense. Where is he, anyway?”

Elain’s fingers twisted in front of her. “I’m not sure. I think he’s safe though.”

A small amount of relief shuttered over Eris’s expression. “Good. One less thing to worry about.”

Eris kicked Graysen in the ribs before stepping over him as though nothing had happened. Elain didn’t comment on it, though something about it was particularly irksome and at least he’d hadn’t shot him. 

“We can’t bring him with us,” Eris told her, pulling a data pad from his white pants. “Unless you want to sit here and guard him?”

“No,” she breathed. Elain very much did not want to remain in the scummy liar of the crime lord, nor did she want to be the one forced to face Graysen on her own. “Where are you going?”

“To the mine,” Eris said, jaw clenched. “I’m going to blow it into pieces.”

“You can’t—”

“This is your career, right? Bring down a powerful Senator, a crime syndicate, become a hero to the Republic? I respect that. Hell, any other time I’d get out of your way and let you. This is personal and I do not care about your pathetic ambitions. It will take months of arguing, of hand-wringing and pointless speeches about what can be done until eventually something else robs their attention and someone else takes over.”

“You don’t know that,” Elain breathed, but Eris slammed his fist against the panel to open the door.

“I practically wrote the fucking book,” Eris snapped in response. “You have pretty ideals—I had them once, too. I wanted to make the galaxy a better place—because it’s decent and kind—and quickly found the way things actually work. You need to learn how to play the game, Archeron. If you want results, you need to do it yourself.”

“What about proof, about—”

“The proof is the kidnapping,” Eris snapped, shaking out his hand before wrapping it around her wrist so they could run down the sanitized, sleek durasteel halls. “And to be honest, I don’t give a fuck about proof. You should have let me kill him, too. He would have watched you die, you know.”

Elain hadn’t had a second to truly consider that. Eris had hit home, though, his words a punch to the stomach. She had mourned Graysen, and he’d only ever seen her as an account filled with credits, and afterwards, a nuisance. And though that wounded her a little, Elain didn’t regret sparing his life.

She would not let herself stoop to his level. “I’m not going to become him. Or you,” she added as Eris yanked her down a separate hall, pressing her against a wall. The door was right there, and as Elain recalled, guarded by those horn masked men. 

“You’re above killing?” he asked, amber eyes searching her own. “You must be the only person in the galaxy with such lofty ideals. Behind me, then, Archeron. Blaster out, just in case.”

In the end, Elain didn’t have to get her hands dirty. Eris burst from the door and in quick succession, ended the lives of the guards who might have stopped them from stealing the hover car. Elain’s fingers trembled, clutching her blaster so tightly her fingers ached. The toppled bodies, the splattered blood—all of it felt a step too far.

Eris didn’t even blink. 

“Get in,” he barked. Elain did as she was told. 

“Are you going to explain any of this?” she asked the man sitting beside her. Eris brought the car to life, his amber eyes flinty with anger. 

“Why would I tell you anything?” he all but sneered, glancing in her direction as they left the cliffside. Elain meant to respond with equal sass, but the wooshing of ships overhead silenced her.

She twisted in her seat, heart pounding with excitement. She knew that ship, recognized the sleek nose, the little blur of orange painted along the side.

“I see you called the cavalry,” Eris said dryly, speeding along the desert sand. “No subtlety, that one.”

“He’ll buy you time if they’re distracted,” Elain snapped, unable to admit the heartstopping relief she felt. Lucien was alive, he was well, and most importantly, he knew she was in trouble. Elain could relax as much as was possible, given Eris wasn’t taking her to safety but back into the thick of danger.

And this was what she wanted, right? To see the mine, to know the full scope. Surely her word was just as powerful as Graysen, especially when it was backed by two Vanserras? 

“When we arrive, I want you to begin evacuating everyone inside,” Eris told her, ignoring the sound of lasers being fired on the base. Behind them, Hybern had begun to mobilize his own fleet to take on the one rogue ship and Lucien, artfall as ever, dodged and wove his way through the sky, pelting the base with a rain of fire. Elain could smell acrid smoke and burning metal mingled in the air, even as they zipped away. 

She hoped he knew she was fine. There was no way to tell him, not without a comm and she’d left that at home. 

“And what will you be doing?”

“Blowing it afuckingpart,” Eris snarled. “If they want to rebuild it, they can do it on the ruined ashes and over my dead kriffing body.”

“Are you going to tell me what this is all about?” she demanded. Eris looked over, jaw set. No. Whatever personal thing this was about—the Jedi, the child, she supposed, given what Graysen had said—he wasn’t going to share it with a stranger.

“You’re not the only one with lofty ideals, Archeron.”

She supposed that was the best she’d ever get. They said nothing else, squinting against the pelting sand and trying so hard not to look behind them and the distant battle furiously raging in the sky. Elain could stand watching Lucien fly—every time the ship rolled or dove, she was certain she was going to watch him explode into bits, just like the cantina had done. 

The mine was surrounded by a high fence that stretched for miles in both directions. Barbed over the top to keep people from getting in…or, more likely, anyone from getting out. It looked more like a prison, not that she’d ever seen one. But Elain could imagine. 

The gate was open, and with a flash of a badge and a smooth smile, Eris managed to convince the guard they had come from Coruscant on Gryasen’s orders. He certainly seemed convincing–slick as he’d ever been. Even his disheveled hair and rumpled clothing could have been the result of the desert. Eris looked like he belonged to the core, at any rate, which was likely what saw them both inside.

“He’ll call ahead. Hopefully Lucien’s got them so distracted they don’t answer, but we still need to move quickly. Remember–evacuate. That’s all you have to do. I don’t want stragglers when the mine collapses.”

Inside the gate was a circular pit of sand and a sea of neatly organized yurts just barely held together with animal skins and string. The air smelled foul, like something was rotting—and it didn’t take either of them long to see why. Bodies stacked tall beneath the hot sun baked as children no older than twelve dug a hole deep enough to bury them. Eris watched, his expression strangely haunted.

Whatever child was gone, she suspected they were lost to that pile, that unmarked grave. Elain couldn’t imagine Eris as a father, but perhaps a nephew, or merely someone he’d cared about. A child he’d mentored, had meant to come back for, only to find he’d been too late. Elain didn’t prod, given they were strangers, though maybe one day when they were back on Corsucant and this was a dim memory, he’d tell her everything.

Maybe Lucien would, if he knew. 

Past the makeshift town set up, presumably, for all the children who lacked parents which Elain found to be horrifying, was the operation of the mine. She saw the open door that led into the planet and just beside, a tall tower built of more basalt stone and a structure built atop the landscape that likely wound its way through the planet like tangled, bloodsoaked veins. 

“Ten minutes, Archeron. Don’t make me tell my brother I blew you up,” Eris said. Elain only nodded, straightening her spine and discarding her apron as she made her way to the tower.

“Shoot first,” Eris added, walking in step with her. “Ask questions later. They won’t share your mercy.” It was Eris who got them in—first with that charming, if not arrogant smile, and then with his blaster. He fired a round of shots, taking down several nosy guards and chattering droids. Elain wondered if she was becoming immune to the death, or if some part of her didn’t think Eris was justified. 

Each time a new body collapsed beside them, Elain only thought of those children stacked beneath the sun while others dug a grave. What was it like to be surrounded by so much death so young? She didn’t think she wanted to know, and she didn’t think she could empathize with Graysen any longer. Though she didn’t regret sparing his life, she didn’t think she’d be so quick to spare him a second time.

This was his dream—his empire, and it was built on the blood of innocents. 

“Go,” Eris hissed, wrenching open the control room. “Don’t get yourself killed.”

He vanished down a long hall illuminated in eerie red. Elain made her way toward the viewport, overlooking a factory filled with little people with even littler fingers operating conveyor belts and picking through tiny metal pieces. Bombs. They were building ion bombs. The Republic tightly controlled who had access to that sort of weapon and the Hybern Syndicate certainly wasn’t on that list. They were dangerous to construct, in part because one wrong move could blow up the entire facility.

And little fingers were likely far more adept and getting the pieces in place. 

Graysen had sold out the safety of the galaxy for credits. Would put dangerous technology in the hands of the worst sort of villainy and scum without batting an eye. It made her sick—it made her angry.

Elain had one particularly good skill, one she’d learned as a child who liked to eavesdrop. Elain could slice through tech like it was nothing, and given Graysen had so obviously tried to cut corners everywhere he could, the tech laid out before her wasn’t particularly advanced. With a few tapping buttons on a green and black screen, Elain managed to make her way into Graysen’s database and, with a little clever workarounds, sent every file straight to her eldest sister. There was no time to parse through and see what was useful and what was garbage or merely administrative. 

Elain hit the evacuation button the next second. She’d wasted a whole minute making sure there would be a traceable record of Graysen’s crimes, that testimony wouldn’t rely on her and Eris Vanserra. 

Nine minutes. Elain watched the conveyor belts shutter and the overseers barking orders, shoving through trembling bodies to ensure they were the first to leave. Elain reached for her blaster, wondering if it wasn’t justice to kill them right here simply for enforcing Graysen’s cruelty. 

She didn’t move. It was her job to get everyone out, and so she simply watched as more people than she’d first believed could exist in one large chamber began to climb up the rickety metal stairs. 

They had, by her estimation, five minutes to fully leave if they wanted to be far enough away that they weren’t taken out by the resulting aftershocks. 

There was a straggler. A little child who couldn’t have been older than three, turning circles and crying for her mother. She was dressed far better than everyone else, in a little dress of white and gold, and with the prettiest strawberry blonde hair that fell in little ringlet curls. She seemed new, and no one stopped to help. The child would have been easy enough to pick up, and yet when a passing overseer saw her, he merely shoved her to the ground and then kicked her aside with a heavy boot. 

It was too much. Elain pushed open the door on the opposite side of the control room, jogging down better made stairs and into the emptied chamber. Behind her, the sound of steps clambering up echoed through the stone, drowning out the wails despite how much closer Elain was to her now.

She reached the little girl just as loud sirens began to blare. Someone had caught Eris—she needed to leave. It would have been faster if she only had herself to worry about—faster, too. Elain scooped up the little girl, angling her on her hip. There was a bruise just beneath the child's eye socket, and when Elain squeezed at her ribs, more tears fell down chubby little cheeks. Her tawny skin was tear stained and filthy, though her dress didn’t seem to be in too bad of shape.

“You’re okay,” she said as the little girl looked up with the greenest pair of eyes Elain had ever seen in her life. “You’re going to be fine.”

“I want my mommy,” she told Elain. Elain had no idea who that person was, but if she was alive, Elain would reunite them. 

She said, “I know,” which seemed to pacify the child just enough to cling to her neck, face buried in Elain’s unraveling hair.

Up they went, back to that control room. Elain knew the way out from there, had thought Eris had bought her enough of a distraction there would be nothing keeping her from getting out.

She was wrong. 

Graysen, bruised and bloodied and angrier than she’d ever seen him, held a blaster in her face the moment she returned to the control room. Elain managed to keep the door open, flung out to the hinges so she had a quick way to escape if she needed to. The child held tighter, and Elain wondered if she’d seen this all before. 

“Baby,” Graysen whispered, his teeth stained red. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“This is wrong, Gray,” Elain replied, her heart pounding in her chest. “Ion bombs? Are you out of your mind?”

“I don’t give a fuck about any of it!” he snapped, his easy patience slipping into hot fury. “What is the difference between the Republic using it to keep the planets in line or anyone else? People still die, don’t they?”

Elain sighed heavily, backing toward the open space behind her. Graysen shook the blaster back and forth in a mockery of no. “Where are you going, baby? Your little friend has this place rigged to the heavens. If you run back down, you’ll die in the collapse.”

Graysen’s eyes slid to the child, a strange smile spreading over his lips. “How funny, that Eris Vanserra would condemn his own child to such a terrible death.”

“Don’t do this.”

“Why shouldn’t I? You’re the one who stuck your nose where it didn’t belong. I let you go, Elain. You should be thanking me, and yet here you are, still making a mess of my life!”

“You swore to protect the galaxy—!”

“I lied!” Graysen all but roared, drawing a whimpering cry from the child still wrapped in Elain’s arms. “I lied, just like everyone else when they took that ridiculous, antiquated oath! You cannot police the galaxy, Elain.”

His finger slid over the trigger. Eyes squeezed shut, her hearing half lost to the distant sirens, Elain waited for a blast that should have come. She heard it discharge, and yet there was no pain, nothing but her own frantic heart…and a broad hand on her shoulder. 

Lucien towered just behind, blaster in hand. “I can police the galaxy you dumb fuck,” Lucien said a mere second before his shot went off. Graysen’s wide eyes were the last thing Elain saw before he crumpled to the ground, his fine black tunic spreading a slow stain against his chest.

“C’mon,” Lucien said, glancing at the child she held. “We need to go now.”

“How did you get here?” she asked as Lucien traded her. He took the child in one arm and thrust a vibrodagger—illegal, though she wasn’t about to comment on that now—into her hands. 

“Luck,” Lucien replied, grinning like this was all just another fun adventure. Did he know he was holding his niece? “I saw the cantina, I thought—”

They burst into the sunshine and ought to have been stopped by a tall man with dark eyes staring with such hatred.

“Elain—” She lunged, plunging that dagger straight into his throat. Not today. Not when they were already so close. Eris had told her to shoot first, ask questions later. Wasn't that what this was? Blood sprayed over her hands, her face, her clothes. 

Lucien merely gaped, eyes wide. “Do you know who that was?”

“No one the galaxy will miss,” was her icy response. Someone who would have been fine to let more children die if it personally enriched them. 

“That was Hybern himself,” Lucien murmured, trailing after her with clear admiration. 

Elain didn’t care.

“Good riddance.”

LUCIEN:

After he found Elain alive and clutching a child that, as it turned out, belonged his deviant brother, everything felt like a blur. Arina had cut down any opposition and Eris had managed to bring down the gates. He never once thought of Eris as a rebel or a hero, but watching the people of Florrum flood the little yurt city and take their revenge made Lucien think Eris was cut from the same cloth he was.

Made carefully by their mothers loving hands. 

There had been no bombs, which annoyed Elain a little. Eris hadn’t apologized, taking the child from Lucien and clutching her as though it had been Elain who’d stolen her from him. And when Arina arrived with a matching set of eyes, Lucien knew better than to ask any questions regarding what had happened between his brother and the Jedi. Tamlin, too, had come with a small armada and some rather unkind words about how they'd fucked his entire undercover operation. Lucien found he didn't care much about that, either. 

Some things, he supposed, were better left unanswered. Eris, for his part, didn’t seem angry—only relieved.

Lucien echoed that sentiment, hustling Elain back to his ship and then into his lap long after he’d punched the coordinates for Coruscant. 

Another week alone—and then her sister, and the Senate, and real life. He didn’t want to go back to any of it, wasn’t ready to hear her tell him all the reasons why would never work. So that first night, Lucien merely climbed into the tiny little bed, lost to the dark and the humming engines, and tried to settle his anxious mind. 

It wasn’t until they’d both cleaned the blood and grime off of them a second time, and the events of Florrum had settled softly in the background, that Lucien dared to broach the topic.

Twisting at the ring on his finger while Elain sat in the co-pilot chair, her legs folded beneath her while she stared at her data pad, he said, “I’ve been thinking.”

She glanced over, her expression paling. “Oh?”

“About when we return to Coruscant. About us.”

Her eyes fluttered shut. “What were you thinking, Lucien?”

“That you should move in with me.”

He hadn’t meant to say that. Not exactly. Elain’s eyes flew open, her mouth shaped like a soft oh. Kriffing stars, but he’d messed it all up. With nowhere to go, Lucien hastily added, “Because I’m in love with you.”

That hadn’t been what he’d meant to say, either, though he needed to. “I thought you died back there…I thought—” he sucked in a breath of air. “I don’t want to give you up. And I know my life is chaotic and a mess but I can make this work. I want to make it work, because I’m so in love with you I can’t think, I can’t breathe, I—”

“I love you, too,” she whispered, fingers twisting in her lap. “But Lucien, I…my life is boring. Its meetings and policy and late nights in the office. You’ll get bored—”

“I won’t,” he insisted. “You have no idea how nice that sounds, how good it would be to come home to a little quiet.”

He didn’t mention the constant ringing in his ears, how loud noises made him jumpy. Nor did he tell her that the adrenaline eventually wore off, and Lucien had long learned to stop chasing after it. It only occurred to Lucien, after a moment of silent contemplation, the rest of what she’d said.

“You love me?”

Elain blinked. “Of course I do. And I can’t move in with you, Lucien.” His heart sank. He ought to have expected that and still he’d been unprepared for the gut punching disappointment that flooded through him.

“You’ll have to move in with me,” she continued, blithely unaware she’d run him through the full gamut of emotions in the span of a few seconds. “I have a much larger apartment and truthfully, I don’t want to give it back to Nesta. It belongs to our family and she moved in with Cassian without thinking. So I think, if we’re going to do this, you ought to move in with me.”

Pissing off General Archeron and living with his dream woman? “Done,” Lucien said breathlessly. “I’ll start packing the second we get back.”

“The second?” she asked, her voice sweetly suggestive. “Maybe it could wait a couple hours?”

“Oh?” Lucien shifted in his chair. “What did you have in mind?”

Because he was imagining taking her to the temple and marrying her before Nesta got a hold of his neck. Judging from the look on her face, Elain wasn’t thinking marriage—not yet, anyway.

He could work her into it, though.

Just as soon as he took her back to bed.

After all—Lucien had the time.