#that lucien is better off without someone like him

[yaralulu]

Can you imagine lucien opening the door to his manor only to find all his belongings from the spring court dumped on his doorstep essentially signifying that tamlin really doesn’t want him coming back and that any effort to reconcile their friendship is done and gone.What he doesn’t know is that tamlin is completely internalizing all the shitty things rhys said to him about deserving to be alone for the rest of his life and this is him accepting and believing that he really does deserve to be alone,that this is his punishment and he deserves it ☹️☹️☹️.

[utterlyotterlyx]

Starstruck

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary - Azriel had never wished upon a star, and after finding you, he wished he had done it sooner.

Warnings - FLUFFFFFFF, a touch of angst and sadness

There were thirteen stars that streaked across the skies during Starfall, Azriel had resound himself to noting each one as they made their journey across the same canvas each year, watching how they danced between one another and entranced the city with their show.

He sometimes wondered just how perfect someone had to be in order to be one of them, to shine so brightly and to be so adored that a whole city would wait an entire year to watch them for just a fleeting moment.

After watching for so long, Azriel knew each of them in his own special way, but he had always been particularly drawn to the singular star that always drifted to the back of the colony, like it was trying to stay for just a moment longer, and he could have sworn that he felt it watching him on more than one occasion, even when it twinkled idly in the sky and pulsed with pearlescent light.

One particular Starfall, Azriel gave in to his infantile wonder that perhaps wishing on a star would make all of his dreams come true, dreams that he had never spoken of to anyone. As silly as it felt, Azriel forced himself to close his eyes just as the stars began their dance; he inhaled deeply and wished, what for he'd never tell, but he did it.

In the days that followed, Azriel felt that tiny spark of hope evaporate within him, such showed in his tendrils of shadow who were feeling a little heavier than usual, less mischievous too. Cassian had noticed it, it was only small really and he was surprised that it was him who had caught it, but he knew Azriel better than anyone, he'd notice any slight change.

"What's wrong?" Azriel's chest was glistening in the last dwindling glance of sunlight, rising and falling rapidly as he worked to slow his breathing from his latest training session with Cassian.

Azriel spared Cassian a side-long glance and moved to unwrap his knuckles, the bandages winding onto the ground, "Nothing," he cast his eyes down to his knuckles, bruised and bloody and also throbbing from the impact of Cassian's abdomen, the feeling didn't do much to tempt his thoughts.

"Bullshit," Cassian cursed softly, "You're you but not. Tell me what's going on Az."

Sighing, slightly agitated, Azriel turned to his brother, noticing the stars leaking in from the distance, "I want my mate. I want what you and Nesta have, and Feyre and Rhys. I thought that maybe it was my turn next," his heart stung with the knowing of Lucien and Elain's accepted mating bond, he glanced behind Cassian, seeking comfort in something other-worldly, "I wished it."

Azriel hadn't meant to make Cassian feel guilty, he was glad that Cassian had found his mate, someone to love for the rest of his days., but it didn't stop him from feeling more alone than he had ever felt in his life.

The raw emotion in his voice caused Cassian to stand speechless before him, "I'm going to go for a walk, clear my head."

Without another word, Azriel shrugged his shirt over his head and took off into the skies, unable to look back at the pained expression on Cassian's face. Part of him was ashamed for his feelings, he was Spymaster of the Night Court, anyone who loved him would be in constant danger, perhaps that was why he hadn't been gifted with a soul-bound other.

Landing on the cobbled streets of Velaris, Azriel began trapsing through the city with his head hung low, not particularly paying attention to anything until his shadows coiled around his arms and tugged at him. The Shadowsinger scoffed, pushing himself onward and choosing to ignore his companions, only barking at them when they swam over his face and restricted his vision; Azriel swatted at them, "What?"

One particular shadow, the one most prone to dancing and becoming lost in someone's hair, hovered before his eyes, waltzing into the night-kissed air and forcing Azriel to focus. He hadn't realised how far he'd walked until he took a moment to scan the area, he had wandered all the way down to the Sidra, so much being clear from the bubbling drifting from the riverbank as the water sang over the rocks.

Then he heard something that made his heart skip, a soft hum, no louder than a hummingbird, winding down the cobbled path to meet his ears. It was sweet and calm, full of life and serenity, and he couldn't stop himself from following it.

His shadows shivered with each step, each one becoming more active with every metre forward they were carried until they saw you, you were kneeling in the water that perfectly reflected the sky, fingers dipping beneath the surface whilst it swam by you. Your hair was unbound and kissing the surface in a way that sent small ripples through it whenever they would collide.

Azriel stood on the bank and watched you, not being able to place you in his mind, he listened to your song, unwilling to stop his shadows from drawing themselves toward it. Only when those tendrils of darkness grazed against your skin did the song halt, it was replaced by a soft giggle, one that could have made the darkness part to allow in the sun if it wished it.

"Can I help you?" The shadows shuddered at your question, convicted to dancing to the sound of your melodic tone, coiling around the finger you had raised to your eyes to inspect them closer, "How peculiar."

The drenched skirt of your pale blue dress pooled at your feet when you stood, but you didn't take your eyes off of the shadows. And, as if realising how potentially rude they were being, Azriel moved to intervene, to beckon them back to his side, "I'm sorry, they don't seem to want to listen to me today."

Turning to face him, Azriel lost every thought in his mind, the only one lingering in his consciousness being that you were easily the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, "It's alright, I don't mind," you told him with a smile as wide as the Sidra. His shadows continued to dance around you, slithering into every gap possible to just be as close as they could, "Who are you?"

Azriel was slightly taken back by the question, everyone knew who he was, and he didn't mean to feel egotistical when he thought that, most people were afraid of him, and everyone in the city certainly knew who he was. "I'm Azriel," he attempted to call back his shadows but they refused to leave you, he had half a mind to waltz right up to you and pluck them from your skin, but he stayed put, "Who are you?"

"Y/N." Beautiful.

"I haven't seen you here before."

The moon reflected off the surface of the Sidra,

Humming softly, you glanced about with a furrowed brow, like you were trying to find something familiar until your eyes dragged upward and settled on the sky, "And where is here?"

"Velaris. The City of Starlight."

"Starlight," your voice drifted, eyes unwavering in their upward gaze, "How pretty."

Perhaps Azriel should have been cautious of you, the beautiful thing with the long hair and voice as tempting as a siren's, but he wasn't, not even a little bit. If anything, Azriel had found a comfort within you despite only being in your presence for a mere few moments.

After a few moments, your wandering eyes returned to earth and you moved past him, up toward the cobbled path he had strayed from to find you, "Can I walk you home?"

Turning on the balls of your feet, you grinned at him and continued backward, "I'll be fine."

Azriel took a single step forward, "Will I see you again?"

"If you wish it," you told him with a knowing smirk, one that he didn't recognise, before turning from him and disappearing into the night, leaving Azriel wondering just exactly who you were to be able to cause his shadows continue to whisper your name into the darkness.

The next time Azriel saw you was in the Palace of Threads and Jewels, he had only caught a glimpse of you, but your scent of jasmine and pine lingered where you once stood. Azriel excused himself away from Nesta and Feyre, both of who glanced to his hurried form as he retreated from them.

Rounding a corner, he found you inspecting a bouquet of night lilies, your fingers gliding across the velvety petals with a genteel smile on your lips, one that widened when his shadows curled around your ankles, "Hello again," you called to them endearingly, beckoning them up to your fingers where they happily rested whilst you brushed the tip of your nose again them.

Azriel felt his heart clench at the action, and he only pulled himself from his entranced state when you graced him with your attention, "Hello to you too, Azriel," your hands were folded neatly behind your back, his shadows now resting on your shoulders.

"Hello," he took a step forward, and then he noticed just how small you were in comparison to him by the way you craned your neck up to look at him, "I knew I'd see you again."

A grin formed on your lips, "Did you wish it?"

"Perhaps,” Azriel folded his arms across his chest and drank you in, the pinned back hair and the baby whips that floated over your forehead, the white dress that hugged you in all of the perfect ways, and those bright doe eyes tinged with a touch of mischief.

"Then consider your wish granted,” the heel of your shoe clicked against the floor, the aroma of fresh roses and foliage filling the air, and you cocked your head at him slightly as if appreciating his beauty, “How have you been?”

In all honesty, Azriel had been feeling much better since that night he left Cassian after training, and that was because of you. Azriel couldn’t stop thinking about you, how lost you seemed but also not afraid, how gentle you seemed, and your voice, he couldn’t get it out of his head. Without wanting to admit it, Azriel had been looking for you, lazily, but with a hope he thought he had lost. And now there you stood, as pretty at the petals that drifted along the floor.

“I’ve been alright,” he leaned against the pillar of the stop, angling his body into you. It had been an age since someone had asked how he was, especially in the way that you asked, with genuine intrigue and care. “How have you been?”

Smiling, you answered, “I’ve been good,” you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and giggled softly as a shadow flowed through your hair.

“I’d like to get to know you,” he said with gentle conviction and you couldn’t help but blush, enjoying the sight of those soft eyes and rough exterior clad in black pants and a matching long sleeved cotton shirt.. “If you’d let me?”

“I wouldn’t say no,” you shrugged and took a step forward, close enough to scent the cedar on his clothes, “What are you doing right now?”

“Nothing,” Azriel internally cursed himself for responding so fast, showing his eagerness to spent more than a moment under the moon with you.

With a knowing smirk you huffed out a laugh, “Well, walk with me? I want to explore a little.”

Not needing another word, Azriel pushed himself from the beam and stepped aside for you to slip past him, slowly meandering through the market and observing everything that you could.

“Where is it that you live?” Azriel asked, happy to simply watch you scan the shelves and touch anything that looked soft.

Without looking back, you answered his question with a voice as warm as summer rain, “A little cabin by the streams,” the cotton of your bag brushed against your skirt as you swayed from side to side, craning your head and standing on your tiptoes to glance at the top shelves.

Azriel knew the place, he had always been drawn to it, the white window frames that turned yellow in the golden light that poured from insane, the thatched roof that was almost plaited in the finest of knots, and the tiny garden erected toward the back facing the forest where an array of flowers of all breeds bloomed and basked.

“And you? Where do you live?”

You led Azriel down the cobbled streets, picking up trinkets and admiring their beauty before placing them back on the shelves, “I live in the House of Wind,” from your furrowed brow, he knew that you didn’t know of it; Azriel placed his hands on your shoulders and turned you gently, reaching beneath your chin to angle your head upward, “Up there.”

“It looks beautiful,” you hummed, “You’re very lucky.”

“Yes, I am,” you missed how he looked to you when he spoke, captured by a gleaming stone resting on a plush cushion.

Closing the gap, you took the stone in your hand, resting it in your palm and letting the chain sway against your wrist, “It’s so beautiful,” you spoke in a tone a hush above a whisper, the rustle of a curtain begged your focus and you glanced up to see an elderly woman approaching you.

“A beautiful stone for a beautiful lady,” her voice rasped, but her kind eyes were fixated upon you, smiling in their own way.

“How much?” Azriel asked, appearing behind you with a twinkle in his eye.

“Azriel, no. It’s too much,” you protested, it was an ornately beautiful jewel, a white stone that reflected against the cloth of the ceiling that billowed in the breeze, “I can’t.”

Azriel, nodding his silent message to the shopkeeper, took the chain in his marred fingers and draped it around your neck, clasping it at the back and watching as your fingers reached to brush against it, “It was made for you.”

“Thank you,” you turned around to face him, and it took every ounce of willpower to not brush his fingers against your cheek.

The dropping sun cast its glow over your face, and Azriel gasped slightly, the sun turning your eyes molten and pristine, and felt the golden thread within him thrum into place. For a moment, the world seemed clearer, his senses heightened and your scent seeped into the foundations of his being.

From the look on your face, you had also felt it, your lips had parted slightly and your eyes were wide and glistening, “It’s you,” he was in disbelief, but his heart sang when you rested a hand over his heart, “You’re my mate.”

A gentle nod confirmed it, and Azriel couldn’t stop his hand this time from brushing against your cheek, his thumb dragging over your skin, “Yes.”

“I didn’t think I’d ever find you,” he whispered, “You’re real?”

“I’m real,” you entwined your fingers with his and brought them to your lips, kissing the marred flesh of his knuckles, “I’m here.”

Azriel struggled accepting that someone as perfect as you had been chosen to be his.

He didn’t want to rush you into anything, he wanted you to be comfortable, but he’d be lying if he said that every single part of him wasn’t irrevocably obsessed with you.

But when you met his family for the first time, and held Nyx and rocked him to sleep, did Azriel know that there was no one more made for him than you. Nesta and Feyre adored you from the moment they laid eyes on your sweet smile and large eyes, they had practically whisked you away to a separate sofa to probe and gossip with you. After you had spoken to Cassian and Rhys, his brothers moved to him with wide smiles, telling him that you were perfect.

Then there was Nyx who cried every time someone tried to take him from you, his nuzzled into your side, resting his head against your chest as he slept.

In the months that followed, his adoration for you only grew, and the night you had accepted the bond had been the most magical moment of his life. And not long after, he made you his wife in the most ornately warm ceremony the city had ever seen.

Each day was full of love and laughter, he moved into the cabin with you, and enjoyed every single moment of his life knowing that you were the one waiting for him at the end of the day.

Starfall had rolled around again, reminding Azriel that it was the same night a year ago that caused him to wish for you. He stood with you on that balcony, a stones throw away from the rest of his, and now your, family as the skies opened and the stars began their descent.

“I’ve never seen it like this before,” you uttered, hands resting on his forearms that were wrapped around your waist.

The stars soared, but their usual course was disrupted by their decision to fly toward the balcony. They hovered before you and Azriel and he felt your body leave his embrace, your fingers outstretched to float between the stars that waltzed around your body, “I’ve missed you too,” you told them, skin glittering with their kiss.

Bewildered, Azriel watched you have a conversation with the stars that painted the sky each night. Frowning, he counted the stars, noticing each one as the ones he knew and named, the same ones he created stories and lives for, to only find that one was missing, the last one who always lingered. Then his eyes moved to you and he wondered how he hadn’t realised it before.

The last star was you.

It made sense, you had always shone so brightly in comparison to others. Everyone had always felt settled around you, and Azriel had just thought that it was your serenity that caused it, but no, it was because you were a star.

“You’re a star,” that’s why you didn’t know where you were that night he had found you, it’s because you had fallen from the sky and landed his city, his home.

Smirking slightly, you walked into his open arms, sighing as the stars moved around you, “I prefer to say a wish come true.”

Azriel, chuckling at your words, hooked a finger beneath your chin and pulled your eyes upward, his breath fanned over your face. “If I’d have known then I would have wished for you a lot sooner.”

Authors Note

Just a little one from me 😚

[wordsrequired]

• when elain needed reassurance and ease into this new situation she wasn’t familiar with, azriel was there:

Elain said “It’s all very disorienting.” “I can imagine,”Azriel said. Cassian flashed him a glare. But Azriel’s attention was on my sister, a polite, bland smile on his face. Her shoulders loosened a bit.

.. and Elain, noticing Azriel’s ease as proof that things weren’t indeed about to go badly, offered one of her own as well.”

• when elain was about to be introduced to her new home as a new being, azriel was there:

Azriel arrived first, no shadows to be seen, my sister a pale, golden mass in his arms.

He set her down gently on the foyer carpet, having carried her in through the front door.

Elain peered up at his patient, solemn face.
Azriel smiled faintly. “Would you like me to show you the garden?”

• when elain was lost and they were trying to find a way to make her feel better, azriel was there:

“Can I set you up in the garden? The herbs you planted are coming in nicely.” “I can help her” said Azriel, stepping to the table as Elain silently rose. No shadows at his ear, no darkness ringing from his fingers as he extended a hand.

• when no one could understand her behavior and her powers, azriel was the one who did:

“She doesn’t need anything,” Azriel answered without so much as looking at Lucien. Elain was staring at the spymaster now—unblinkingly.

”We’re the ones who need …’ Azriel trailed off. “A seer” he said, more to himself than us. “The Cauldron made you a seer.”

• when elain was taken, azriel was the first person who noticed her missing:

But Azriel asked softly, “What about Elain?” Something cold went through me.

• when elain needed saving, azriel was the one ready to die to save her:

From the shadows near the entrance to the tent, Azriel said, as if in answer to some unspoken debate, “I’m getting her back.”

Nesta slid her gaze to the shadowsinger. Azriel’s hazel eyes glowed golden in the shadows.

Nesta said, “Then you will die.”

Azriel only repeated, rage glazing that stare, “I’m getting her back.”

• when elain was in chains, azriel was bleeding and really wounded but the first thing he thought was freeing her, thinking about what she needed first:

Azriel rasped, swaying on his feet, “We need Helion to get these chains off her.” Yet Elain didn’t seem to notice them as she rose up on her toes and kissed the shadowsinger’s cheek.

• when elain needed a weapon to defend herself and azriel gave her his most prized possession, the dagger that never failed him and he never let anyone touch:

“This is Truth-Teller” he told her softly. “I won’t be using it today—so I want you to.”

“It has never failed me once” the shadowsinger said, the midday sun devoured by the dark blade. “Some people say it is magic and will always strike true.” He gently took her hand and pressed the hilt of the legendary blade into it. “It will serve you well.”

Cassian gawked at Azriel, and I wondered how often Azriel had lent out that blade. Never, Rhys said from where he finished buckling on his own weapons against the side of the wagon. I have never once seen Azriel let another person touch that knife.

• even in the smallest, irrelevant things, anytime elain needed help azriel was there:

But Azriel only took Elain’s heavy dish of potatoes from her hands, his voice soft as night as he said, “Sit. I’ll take care of it.”

• when elain was upset cause she understood that there was no way of going back to how it was, azriel was there to lighten her up:

“I’d feel bad for the mice” Azriel muttered. Mor and Cassian howled, earning a blush from Azriel and a grateful smile from Elain—and no shortage of scowling from Amren. But something in me eased at that laughter, at the light that returned to Elain’s eyes.

• when elain needed someone to talk, azriel was there even for things he may be not interested in but that make her happy:

Azriel and Elain remained in the sitting room, my sister showing him the plans she’d sketched to expand the garden in the back of the town house, using the seeds and tools my family had given her tonight. Whether he cared about such things, I had no idea.

• when elain was insulted and hurt, azriel’s shadows were ready to strike in her defense:

“Maybe you’ll become interesting at last, Elain.” Nesta saw the blow land, like a physical impact, in Elain’s face, her posture. No one spoke, though shadows gathered in the corners of the room, like snakes preparing to strike. Elain’s eyes brightened with pain.

• even when he just hears elain laugh, azriel is there to wonder what caused it:

Azriel stood in the doorway, monitoring them. As if he’d heard Elain’s sharp laugh and wondered what had caused it.

azriel has literally been with elain in every step and moment of her journey since the beginning. from the most important and key moments to the smallest details. he was the one who had every answer, he was the answer, he was the one who understood, he was the only one who saw her. *ugh*

[acourtofthought]

“No, I don’t. Elain is Elain,” he repeated. “Nesta is … she’s Illyrian. I mean that as a compliment, but she’s an Illyrian at heart. So there is no excuse for her behavior.”

Lost to whatever fog of memory had crept over him, he was smiling mildly at his beloved Elain, the only one of us who bothered to really speak to him at all.

Elain had always been gentle and sweet—and I had considered it a different sort of strength. A better strength. To look at the hardness of the world and choose, over and over, to love, to be kind. She had been always so full of light.

"Feyre is closed off emotionally - it took me years to figure out who she was" - SJM

So with Nesta, especially, she actually started out as one of the wicked sisters, but as I wrote the book, and I got to a certain part where things change a bit, I realized that the way she acts isn't wicked. It's just like someone who has had a very unfortunate life and is a very proud, stiff person, who can't necessarily express love in the soft terms that Elain, Feyre's other sister, can" - SJM

I love Elucien because Elain would no longer be the complete opposite of everyone around her.

She would no longer have to be the soft one amidst an entire group of emotionally closed off warrior types.

With Lucien, she won't constantly be fighting against the tides, she'll float beside a partner who is a lot like her, who understands her without effort because he's so similar. With Lucien she'll finally have found the person who sees her without fighting to be seen.

It's not a bad thing to connect with those who are different from you but everyone needs someone who gets them because they're a lot like them. Who doesn't need a million explanations because their mind words in a similar manner.

When Elain's entire life has been her surrounded by those who are different, I look forward to her finally having a love where she doesn't have to feel like the odd one out.

[fever-fluff]

Home

Azriel is lost, and cannot seem to find his way home, and it's tearing him apart

word count: 1.1k

Part II

Azriel is spiralling. He had convinced himself he was of equal standing with his brothers, but the past few years has proven otherwise. Three sisters for three brothers, that was what he had convinced himself of, and had seemed to be what Elain had wanted. But the bond he was so convinced was wrong, the bond he was so sure that would break apart as soon as the Cauldron had realised its mistake and weaved one between the two of them instead, never waivered.

And now, he sits opposite that of the woman he is so sure he loves, is the one from him, as she rips his already fractured heart in two. She's crying, and there's no part of Azriel that finds any satisfaction in it, no matter how much he wishes he could. She is the one doing this, choosing Lucien over her. But he cannot blame her.

For a time, they seemed to be happy, even if there were those around him that didn't approve. Lucien had accepted Elain's choice without anger or betrayal, and had wished she could find the happiness in Azriel that she could not seem to find in him.

It was Rhysand and Cassian, the males he called his brothers for centuries now, who had been angry for Lucien. Both of them understood a pain like that - both having to watch as their mates found solace outside their arms for a while.

it had taken weeks of coaxing from Nesta and Feyre for them to even look at him, but whether it was for their sister's benefit or his, he wasn't so sure.

Days turned to weeks, and weeks to months, and Azriel found himself the happiest he had ever felt, but it seemed the ever observant spymaster began to miss details. He lost himself in that feeling, not realising the person he found it in was not following down the same path.

It had taken Elain five years to admit her mistake, nothing in the eyes of a fae's long lifespan, but to Azriel he felt like he'd lost centuries.

And now, he watches the world he so sorely craved crumble at his feet with a measly few words.

"I'm sorry, Azriel.... I've hurt so many people because of this. I wanted someone who never should have been mine, while carelessly leaving the male made for me behind."

Azriel had thought his heart had cracked all those years ago when he realised he'd never have Mor in the way he wanted to, but he felt it now. That large, hollow crack that vibrated down the very centre, tearing every string that had slowly began to knit itself together without caring if he could ever mend it again.

He couldn't hear the rest of what Elain said over the cotton in his ears, didn't rise to see her out as she got up and left through the door.

He knows, he knows Lucien hasn't done this, that this is purely Elain's choice. The youngest Vanserra hasn't been seen since Elain had chosen Azriel, off on the continent somewhere with no contact and no sign of ever coming back.

his shadows swirl around him, the thickest they'd been in months. They had never truly gotten used to Elain's presence, and her timidness towards them had Azriel sending them off without a care if it had made her more comfortable. Now, the wrap around him, twisting and turning as if trying to find the ache that their master seemingly has, but finding no open wound.

He takes whatever comfort he can find in them. His shadows have been the only thing that has ever truly been his, no fear of someone ever taking them away from him, being better than him. He is the Night court's Shadowsinger, there is no one else who can fill that role.

And so, Azriel grasps onto that thread and tugs so hard it will either break or rip his hand where it sits. Rhysand cannot find enough problems for him to fix, Cassian refuses to spar more than usual, and his spies have begun to disappear when he is around, leaving their findings in reports he pours over meticulously. He's barely eating, most definitely not sleeping, but he hasn't had to feel the affects of what had happened with Elain.

It's only a matter of time when it fails, Fae are strong, but not indefinitely. It isn't when everyone expects it though.

if not for Cassian, who had watched his brother go down like a rock does when dropped into a pool of water, steady and unmoving, no one would have seen the spymaster hit the treeline so hard they'd ripped his wings to shreds as they lay spread out and lax.

Had waking up been optional, Azriel would have decided against it. Rhysand looked at him with so much pity in his eyes that he had to turn away, Feyre sat at his window, refusing to even acknowledge he was awake.

"You're on leave indefinitely, you're no help to yourself, never mind the rest of us, in the state you're in." Rhysand's words had cut him deeply. His mind swirling as he realised he wasn't good enough to hold the position he'd cherished for centuries. But what could he say against it unless he tried to lie? So he remained silent, eyes downcast as Rhysand went on.

"I'm sending you to the continent, away from -" he didn't need to finish. "With Mor's work, we've made a few connections, and you can stay and figure out for yourself what you need to do."

Azriel looked to Feyre, who had finally moved from the window and stood close to the side of his bed, beside her mate. "Az, please understand, we're worried for you, and this could do you some good."

He scoffed. They had each other to lean on, he had no one - never had anyone to call home. And now they were sending him away from the one place he could pretend to feel like it was. He'd lost the female he loved, and had now lost everything that made him who he was. Why should he even bother...

But the look on Rhysand's face told him he'd order it if it came to it. His brother may always wish those he loved had a choice, but he was still High Lord first, and what Azriel was doing wasn't something he could let slip without repercussions.

He'd go to the continent, spend however long necessary it took to convince his family that he was fit to come back, and he'd hide the despair better. Hide from them all and spend whatever time he could with them before it consumed him whole.

[severedfromthesource]

Vampire’s Gift

Angelique lets Catarina play their favorite game with the unsuspecting Lucien. NSFW. Features M resus, F rescuer, CPR, conscious and unconscious mouth to mouth, precordial thumps, sex leading to cardiac arrest, sex acts on an unconscious person.

“Am I not enough plaything for you, chérie?”

Catarina playfully smacked her arm. “Don’t be so pathetic, love. You know my heart only belongs to you.” Angelique slid her long arms around her love and drew her in close against her body, staring out at the dark street of Paris. Lights burned everywhere, so Paris was never really dark, merely dimmed by night. The two of them were under the vampire’s shroud, for all intents and purposes invisible to the people of the city. They’d only be seen by those they wanted to see.

“I just think it would be fun to be the hero for once. And you don’t need a hero,” said Catarina, tapping at the beast’s chest and the long dead heart beneath. Angelique wanted to argue, but she also couldn’t be sure the organ hadn’t been eaten by worms before she returned as the undead. She went on, “You’ll take one for me, won’t you? I have one in mind.”

“How could I deny you anything?” replied Angelique.

So they walked through the nightlife in search of their damsel. Catarina adored her angel’s every form, when she took on the aspects of a man with a more rigid and bat like face, or a great black dog, or sometimes even when she was only a cloud of fog clinging to her naked skin and filing her lungs. Angelique had a better cock in some forms than any man she’d known, yet lately she had felt the ache for a living one. She missed taking a man in her hand and feeling it twitch with his heartbeat. Plus, if she got to be the hero for once, she thought it would be fun to ride someone in and out of the little deaths, the petit morte, that her beast had perfected. Their search brought them to the back alley of the perfumer’s shop.

“Lucien,” whispered Angelique, plucking the owners name from the ether, “Come down, Lucien, and let us in.” Catarina bounced a little on the balls of her toes. Ever since having seen this man on her last trip into the city, she’d thought about the older perfumer and what he would look like between her thighs, or with Angelique taking him in a masculine form from behind. Tonight though, she had something else in mind. She practically squealed with delight and clapped quickly as the bolt on the door audibly came undone and Lucien opened it for them.

Angelique could not fault her for her attraction. He was handsome and broad, old enough to be Catarina’s father, but he wore each line well. A little gray peppered his beard and temples, stark against his otherwise dark hair. His rich coffee colored eyes were dull under her spell, mouth slightly agape. The two of them entered with his permission and stood amidst his workshop.

“This is well enough,” Catarina announced. She shoved a few of his implements off his work table, which smelled of every oil and perfume which had ever soaked into its wood, and took him by the shoulder to sit on the edge. She hiked up her layers of skirts and petticoats and climbed so she sat astride him. She nodded to her beast and the beast rolled her long fingers in the air. Lucien sucked in a breath, eyes regaining their light. “Wh-What? Where…” He looked to find himself in his workshop. Upon seeing her he gasped and tried to scramble back, only to find himself pinned under her, and his strength oddly lacking. “I was sleeping, I- what’re you doing here?” Catarina pressed a finger to his lips. “Hush, dear one. You’re still asleep.”

He stared at her with wide, entranced eyes. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. With her mane of gold curls and the freckles going down her nose to the top of her breasts, rounded by her corset. Something whispered in his mind that she was right, he was still asleep. He had to be. She urged him down with his back against the workshop table and he went without complaint. He saw her eyes slide to the far corner, but he didn’t see the thing in the shadows.

“My mind has conjured a beauty,” he whispered in a sort of reverent tone. Catarina smiled, leaning over him to place her delicate fingers against his jawline and tilt his head up. Her mouth devoured his with a hunger, and she reveled in the feeling of his warm aliveness. She felt a pang of foreign sadness inside her the same moment she allowed herself to appreciate his body, and she sent a soothing pulse of thought back to her creature. ‘My heart only belongs to you’, it said without words. The shadows seemed to hum appreciatively, and the pitiful feeling melted away from her mind.

The dream woman, who felt all too solid and real to Lucien, slid her hand up over the soft down on his belly and trailed up to his chest. She shifted, and he moaned a little in his throat when he felt she wore no underthings, and her warmth and wetness soaked against him. She was already deeply excited, but he didn’t know the real reason why. He couldn’t have imagined what lay in store for him.

She coiled her hands in the hem of his nightshirt and with surprising strength, ripped the thing to the middle, then grabbed hold of it again to rip the rest of the way to the collar. Lucien tried to assure himself this was merely a dream, and the garment would be well when he woke up. Then she leaned over him and sealed her mouth over one of his nipples and he thought no more of the torn shirt.

“Slower.”

Something whispered in his mind and he jolted slightly. His heart, which had been speeding up and beginning to pound under the dream woman’s hands and warm mouth, suddenly stumbled as if at war with itself. It was as though some invisible hand had clutched the organ and held it still before it beat too fast.

Catarina smirked, still suckling at the hard bud of his nipple. She dug her teeth into it a little and rolled it between her jaws, winning a small hiss. She released it, laying her body across his to claim his mouth instead. He made a muffled noise of surprise when her tongue plumbed between his teeth, but relaxed after a moment and returned the kiss.

“Slower.”

Another stumble. This one hurt though. He felt the uneven beat in his temples and in his stomach, hissing in a breath. “Mmh,” he mumbled, pulling away slightly. “My heart… feels funny,” he told the dream woman.

Catarina circled one of his nipples with her index finger. “Oh? Poor thing. Maybe you’re dying in your sleep.” His eyes went wide and she giggled, tongue poking out between her teeth. She glanced at Angelique again, and again her angel whispered, “Slower” into the air and into Lucien’s heart. He groaned, clutching his chest with one hand. She slid down and freed him from his trousers, and despite his growing panic, he was still growing hard at her movements. His cock jumped when his heart tried to correct for another stumble and beat particularly hard.

“What is this?” he groaned, feeling the sluggish beat as his heart struggled seemingly without cause. It moved slow, he could practically feel each lapping wave of blood in his circulation. The growing spaces between tides was beginning to hurt, and more than that, they worried him.

Catarina sat back up astride him, her hands braced against his chest. She rolled her hips so her sex merely brushed against his hardness, teasing between her lips. Her aching clit throbbed with her pulse, and when she slid his shaft over the hood there, both of them moaned. Her head fell back as she continued to rut against him, feeling the flushed heat of him. Angelique, when she took on a man’s shape, would be kind enough to warm her dead flesh at the fireplace so she could mimic these sensations while inside her, but this was different. Real alive warmth. It was the only thing she really missed from human partners. That, and lying in the afterglow with an ear to their chest as they drifted back down from heaven.

Lucien was sprawled against the workshop table in a tug of war between panic and ecstasy. Her wet cunt slid up and down the length of him, and he wanted to grab her hips and spear her to stop this agonizingly slow game. But his limbs felt weak. His head was growing fuzzy. It didn’t feel like a dream, but some twisted and sinful nightmare. He expected to wake up and see a succubus draining the breath from his lungs. Maybe she was right. Maybe he really was dying in his sleep. Air was becoming harder to draw in, and his heart wasn’t contracting all the way.

Catarina tugged at the neckline of her dress, her ample breasts spilling over the hard ribbing of her corset. She lay down across the perfumer’s naked chest, her weight constricting his breathing all the more. “Shhh,” she soothed, cupping his face in her palm, her thumb tracing over his quivering lips. “You have nothing to fear, dear one.” Then she slid her hand up to pinch his nostrils, sealing her mouth over his to give him a breath. His chest rose under her and she felt his lungs expand with her air. He expelled the excess in a puff when she broke the life giving kiss. Reaching between them, she finally took hold of his stiff cock. The fear and adrenaline warring with her beast’s instructions to his heart had done little to soften him. She gave him another breath, and when she reached the end she gave him a little more than needed, his ribs rounding beneath her. Then she slid him inside her as she let go and he gave a breathy moan.

She felt amazing. Her tight, warm walls enveloped him and the aching need he’d felt waned. He bucked his hips once, twice, but his body was too weak to thrust up into her. Her arousal dripped down the crease of his thighs and cooled against his skin when it hit the air. The succubus, which he now was convinced she was, began to rock against him. His length tapped now and then against her cervix and she groaned, still holding his nose closed for respirations. He was not aware, but he was the largest cock she’d ever taken from a human. He wanted to moan and voice his pleasure the same as her. He wanted to grab her hips and drive himself into her again and again. But his breaths wouldn’t come, and his heart refused to speed up into that delirious, hammering bliss he’d always known during sex. The succubus was kind enough to give him breaths between thrusts, and all he could do was rumble in the back of his throat when he had the breath to make noise.

Catarina sat back, pressing her palm firmly against the apex of his heart. She slowed her gyrations to be in time with the slow beat she felt there. His fingers tightened against her hip, his mouth gaping without her breaths. He tapped a few times in a mute plea for her oxygen. She smirked down at him. “Angelique,” she called to the shadows. The corner of blackness chuckled as two eyes reflected in the sparse moonlight tilting from the nearby window.

The creature rolled her fingers in the air again and spoke her command to the poor trapped man. “Your lungs…” The perfumer looked towards her corner and finally saw, with wide and naked fear on his face, what lie there. “Do you feel the last wisp of air being squeezed from them?” As she said this, she rolled her fingers into her palm and tensed her hand. His chest spasmed. Then it went still as his lungs arrested.

Catarina began to buck her hips faster as his hand fell away from her leg. His head lay tilted to the side, his eyes wide and mouth hung open. His heart stumbled beneath her hand, and she kept one against his ribs and slid the other against his thigh to feel the weak swell of his femoral. Her stomach tightened, her breath quickening as her climax drew near. Hands appeared from behind and slid over the planes of her corset. Angelique took hold of the middle of her restrictive finery and tore it in one motion. Catarina sucked in a completely unobstructed breath and cried out. Arms encircled her as she slammed him into herself, smoothing over her exposed belly and dipping between her legs to her and Lucien’s joining. Her swollen clit was a raw bundle of nerves when the vampire’s claw glided across its surface. It took only a few moments of Angelique’s cool hand fingering her there before she came, screaming and bucking. She felt the perfumer’s heart, which had been locked in a sort of half death- beating, stopping for long moments, beating twice, shaking, lub… lubdublub… lub…- until finally it ceased at the moment of their shared orgasm. His warm seed spilled inside her and she collapsed back into Angelique’s waiting arms, bosom heaving. Lucien’s cock twitched inside her, the last movement of his body before he began to soften with the lack of blood flow.

Catarina swiped her hair back from her face and took a moment to catch her breath. “Ah,” she sighed, “Thank you, darling. You’ve given me quite a gift. I’ll grant you one in return.” She took his face by the chin and rolled his head back up to look at her, his eyes empty, his pupils blown wide. She chalked that up to his pleasure fueled heights before the drop into cardiac arrest. It would be a shame if he remained dead.

She laid across him again and gave him her breaths, his body pliable and yielding to her. She briefly rutted against the curve of his cock once more, shivering with sensitivity after being so thoroughly sated, then planting her hands in the middle of his chest. She shoved up into his heart, forcing his ribcage in. His shoulders shrugged inward and the force rippled out through his entire body. Her breath quickened and she grew excited all over again. She grunted as she drove another quick compression down into his sternum, watching how it rounded his toned, furry stomach, rocking his head back. Catarina had never been the one doing the saving. The rush was immediate and consuming as a wildfire. I am holding his life in my hands. I am the only thing between this man and oblivion. She found herself panting out little breaths as she started the compressions in earnest, rising up a little on her knees so she could use all the strength in her body for his sake.

Angelique slid to the head of the workbench, her eyes flickering between the dead man and her dove. There was a light in her love’s eyes that set the vampire alight. She truly was enjoying this. It gave her every sort of satisfaction to have given her this gift, something she knew her love had longed for so long. The jealousy she had harbored began to ebb as she watched her dutifully pound into the perfumer’s chest. She leaned down, her lips just brushing Lucien’s ear, her cold cheek pressed to his, which was growing paler. “My lady will be awfully disappointed if you do not live,” she whispered so only his barely tethered consciousness heard, “Your heart must beat again for her, Lucien. Come back.”

Cold lips brushed his ear. The succubus’ sex brushed warmly against his soft cock, jerking against her with every brutal pump against his heart. His heart had stopped. He really had died in his sleep, he thought. But he knew he wasn’t sleeping now. No corner of his imagination could conjure this up. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t even roll his eyes in their sockets. They were planted straight ahead where they had drifted at the moment of his death, staring up at some point between the ceiling and the succubus’s face. His vision bobbed with his head, every compression forcing it to swing her face in and out of his line of sight. She really was beautiful. A belle mort. He knew somehow she had been responsible for his death. Now, she was working desperately for his resurrection. It didn’t make sense. But he wanted to do as the voice commanded. He wanted to come back.

Truthfully, there was little left in Lucien’s life worth continuing it. His wife had died last spring of the fever sweeping the lower city. His daughters had died in their cradles the years before that. He had nothing but the stinking perfume shop to fill his days. If he had died, buried inside this beautiful demon sat astride him now, currently shoving her delicate hands against his chest, he wouldn’t have complained. He would have met the devil, for surely a succubus would have damned his soul to hell, and he would have accepted an afterlife of punishment for those few moments of bliss.

She paused her rhythmic pounding and leaned over, kissing him again. Her breath was so warm. It smelled sweet, and tasted of ambrosia when her tongue briefly flicked his own. He knew then that he wanted to come back. He wanted to please her. He would dedicate the rest of his life to this vision who had stolen it from him. Beat. Beat for her, useless thing. Bats pour elle, espèce de sac inutile.

Catarina was panting by now, sweat standing out on her skin and beading between her breasts. Dread had started to well up in the bottom of her stomach. Had she really killed him for good? “Angelique?” she asked, looking over at her beast, “Is it too late? Have I lost him?” The yellow discs of her eyes in the darkness turned towards the dead man’s chest and focused on the vanishing warmth within him. His heart struggled behind his ribs. It beat once, then stopped. Half the chambers moved, but the others wouldn’t pump. “Listen,” she told her. Catarina lay down on top of him and rested her ear against his chest.

“Poor dear,” she breathed out, “You really are trying to be strong, aren’t you?” She had no way of knowing how badly he was trying. Screaming in his mind for his heart to beat, trapped in a dying body. She pinched his nose shut again, tipping his head back as she rose once more. “Then I won’t give up either, dear one. Your heart is safe in my hands.” It was a contradiction to her actions, considering she had been the one to make it stop in the first place. But Lucien believed her. She didn’t want him to die. For the first time in so long, he didn’t want to die either.

She returned to her compressions with renewed vigor, throwing her whole weight behind each measured blow. It had been about twelve minutes of struggling cardiac activity, and her arms, her shoulders, the core of her stomach, were all getting sore. Angelique never tired when she played the hero, and Catarina was on the verge of asking her to help. “You’ve got this,” her beast purred. It wouldn’t be so sweet a victory if she wasn’t the one to claw him back. Angelique tipped her face against his once more and whispered again, “Come back, little one. Focus on those weak beats and make them strong again.” As she spoke, she skated her hand down his ribs and felt them bow to Catarina’s thrusts. Her preternatural eyes watched his heart struggle, and went from unevenly beating now and then to fluttering.

Catarina let out a frustrated growl when she felt his heart stop altogether, no longer even trying to beat. The quivering was too weak for her to detect. “Please, take a breath. I won’t be able to take if you really died,” she panted. Angelique moved to the side of the workbench, easing Catarina back a little. “Just a moment, dove.”

She raised her fist up and thumped him hard between the line of his nipples. The quivering heart, jolted by the kinetic force, beat once and then descended again into fibrillation. She struck him again. This time, it beat for a few seconds, then shook uselessly again. The third time, Catarina tried. She brought up both hands, clutched together in a fist, and beat the organ hard enough his entire body jolted from the force of the blow. But his eyes closed and he drew in a rasping breath as finally, it worked. Lucien was alive. She was giddy with endorphins as she sat back, breathing hard.

“Good show,” Angelique chuckled, wrapping an arm around her love and squeezing one of her breasts, soaking in the way her heart pounded from the exertion of resuscitation.

Catarina giggled, cupping Lucien’s face. “Apologies, dear one. That was more than you bargained for, wasn’t it?” She leaned down to give him a breath and ease his rasping. She startled a bit when he lunged up and, with what little strength was left in him, kissed her passionately and with great desperation and hunger. She pulled back, a little shocked. He propped himself halfway up on his elbows, looking up at her. His eyes were manic and round, black as a deep well given how blown out his pupils were.

“My lady,” he wheezed, “I am yours.”

[lateatnewyork]

Opposite (part two)

Part 1 | Part 2

Azriel x reader, Cassian x best friend!reader, Eris x sister!reader, Lucien x sister!reader

Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, elain slander, two overprotective brothers, ooc nesta (idk she punches elain), making out (at the end)

Summary: Cassian winnows reader to the Autumn Court comes back to the night court and beats the ever loving shit out of Azriel. After a couple of weeks Azriel heads to the Autumn Court with Rhysand for official business, he sees reader happy without him and his heart breaks.

a/n um this is a bit late i’m sorry, i’ll tag the people who asked to be tagged but if u want to be tagged just lemme know and specify which character you want to be tagged for 🫶🏻 and i don’t know what’s treason in fae world and what’s not so bare with me

As I leave the apartment, I get startled when I see Cassian. “What are you doing here?” my voice is barely above a whisper.

“I know I can’t convince you to stay so at least let me take you to the Autumn Court,” he says his voice breaking at the end.

He grabs my hand and winnows us away.

I see the guards lining the palace, they give a slight nod at Cassian and me.

Knocking on Eris’ bedchambers. He looks startled to see me there especially with someone from Rhysand’s court.

My father, Beron, had me locked away until Eris let me out the day of his coronation. Ever since then we have exchanged letters and I have seen him and Lucien as an emissary of the Night Court.

His eyes dart from me and the big brute standing next to me. Cassian was the first to speak, “High Lord” he addresses with a curt nod.

Eris reciprocates the nod with “General Commander”.

“I’ll be off now” That’s the last thing I hear before Eris pulls me in for a hug. “What’s wrong, dove?” his voice is a soothing melody.

I pour my heart out and more to Eris as he awkwardly comforts me. The effort consoling me.

Back at the Night Court

“How could you?” Cassian punches Azriel’s face. “Cassian, stop it,” Elain begs.

Nesta scoffs at her, “Nesta, Feyre, do something,” she pleads. “Why?” Feyre asks, “You have a beautiful mate, so why would you break that poor girls heart by going after her mate,”.

Elain scoffed. “She deserved it, I mean she was so ugly why would someone pair someone like Azriel with a pig like her,”.

Feyre has barely a second to process the words that leave Elain’s mouth and how Nesta lunges at Elain.

Nesta lands punch after punch onto her face. “Cassian might not hit you but I certainly will,”.

Feyre gasps at the scene in front of her.

Her two sisters at each other’s throats while her mate’s two brothers about to kill each other.

She calls Rhysand through the bond, sighing in relief when he shows up almost immediately.

Rhysand grabs Cassian of a bloodied face she can sort of make out to be Azriel and Cassian after a while grabs his mate from the fist fight she was in.

Nesta is panting while staring at Elain, “Don’t you ever speak about her again she was a better sister than you have ever been.”

Azriel grabs a towel and wipes the blood of his face. “But Feyre, he loves me,” she says sobbing.

Feyre is about to reply when Azriel groans out, “No I don’t Elain” he continues when he sees her shocked expression. “Yeah the fucking aphrodisiac wore off,”.

He walks out the room.

A blanket of silence is thrown across the room. Rhysand is the first one to speak. “Aphrodisiac, but that’s grounds for treason,” he looks toward Feyre not wanting to throw her sister in prison without her approval.

But Feyre is already staring at her older sister. “As your High Lady, you have been sentenced to prison on grounds of treason and interference of a mating bond, how many years will be decided at the court date set next week. Guards take her away” With a nod and a flick of Feyre’s wrist, Elain disappears from the room.

Cassian takes Nesta up to their room. Feyre sighs and falls into Rhysand’s arms, “After the finalised sentence we’re going to go visit Y/N.”

3 Weeks Later

Eris had decided to bring Lucien over for a while. So while Eris had to deal with court matters, Lucien and I visited the people of the Autumn Court and baked and gardened.

The very first week was hell, I felt like shit, I would stay in my room wallowing in self pity. But then at the very end of that week. Eris barged into my room during one of my crying sessions.

He had used his High Lord voice to command me to take a shower and get ready for dinner with Lucien. Eris could be scary when he wanted and that moment was definitely one of those times.

They both tried their best to not remind me of Azriel and I appreciated their efforts.

One morning while we were eating breakfast together (Lucien had insisted that we eat breakfast and dinner together).

Lucien blurted out, “The Night Court is coming today, you know I heard some gossip about the spy-”.

He got cut off by a glare from Eris and time seemed to freeze at the mention of Azriel.

“What, ouch why are you- oh” Lucien mutters. “Sorry Y/N/N”.

“It’s ok you guys I don’t care anymore,” I assure them with a gentle smile. “Anyway what were you saying Luc?”.

“Nothing” he brushes it off nonchalantly.

An uncomfortable silence falls over us. “Luc you wanna come with me to the front gardens while Eris is off busy being a High Lord,” I say trying to break the awkwardness. He nods excitedly.

“Ok you guys have fun but stay safe,” Eris says placing a kiss on my forehead. “Don’t worry Eris safe is my middle name,” Lucien yells out laughing.

He picks me up on his back and we run to the front gardens. “Come on Luc faster,” I giggle out.

My laughs are cut short when I see Rhysand, Feyre, Cassian, Nesta and Azriel.

He looks drained out and tired but my gaze snaps from him to the others.

“Rhysand, I presume you’re here for my brother?” I say tilting my head to the side. “You would be correct,” he replies.

Lucien looks over at me. “So,” he starts “Where’s your sister?” Nesta’s gaze hardens as it flits from me to Lucien. “The other one I mean,” he rushes to correct himself. I try to hid my smile but Nesta catches it and smiles back.

“She’s actually in pri-” Cassian speaks for the first time but he gets cut off by Eris, who seems to have found us. “Rhysand I see you’ve met my family,”

They continue chatting and heading to the castle but Azriel looks broken.

Lucien and I head to the gardens, he picks out a beautiful patterned leaf but all I can think about is Azriel.

The chilly wind decided to pick up just as we sat down. Heading inside I smile when I see Lucien’s hair whipping around his face. When we reach the safety of the castle, I shoot out fire from my fingertips into the pit.

Lucien sits down in front of the sofa where I was sitting, “Y/N/N” he sings out, “Can you please braid my hair?”.

Sighing dramatically I say, “I guess”.

I brush out his beautiful red hair and braid it the way he likes. Just as I finish the braid, Eris comes out with Rhysand, Feyre and the others he guides them to the door and Eris is about to shut the door when Azriel stops him.

“Can I talk to her?”

I can feel Eris’ gaze harden and he opens his mouth to say no when Azriel whispers out a broken “please”.

I finally snap “Eris it’s fine we’ll just be five minutes,”.

We head into one of the spare bedrooms.

“I missed you”

“Time is ticking, shadowsinger” I gesture towards the clock.

He takes a deep breath, “I love you and I’m sorry but Elain is in prison for treason”.

“What for?” I question curious. “Illegal possession and misuse of aphrodisiac. And interference between a mating bond,”.

I let out a breath. “So you didn’t cheat?”.

“No” he replies confidently. “She confessed to only kissing me and she couldn’t do anything else before I found out about her using it on me,”.

So that’s what everyone was trying to tell me.

“And when was that, Azriel?” I prod. “Right after you left, Cassian beat me up” He explains.

“Cassian beat you up? I’m sorry” I whisper.

“It’s alright” he says but then a cheeky smile graces his lips, “Maybe a couple of kisses will make it better?”.

“You’re an asshole, Azriel” I mumble back with a smile. “You love it.” he says back.

“I do” I sigh.

He gives me a boyish grin before smashing his lips against mine. My hands instinctively run through his dark locks. He pushes on the bed and crawls on top of me.

Gods I missed him. As if voicing my thoughts he breaks the kiss and breathlessly mutters “I missed you,”.

I roll us over and kiss his neck, biting and sucking his tanned skin. Going back to his lips I kiss them intensely, biting his lip.

Smiling in satisfaction as he groans into my mouth.

The door swings open.

“What is taking you guys so long, did you kill him or-” Lucien shouts.

“Lucien get out!”

a/n I MISS YOUR TANNED SKIN YOUR SWEET SMILEE anyway hope this doesn’t disappoint.

Tag list: @skyrider9 @piceous21 @crazylokonugget @fxckmiup

[lalachat]

"And there you were..."

Author's note: LET ME TELL YOU I HAVE NEVER WANTED TO FIGHT SOMEONE AS MUCH AS I DID WRITING THIS! Literally had this vision in my head and I got so heated I knew this was going to be a good chapter. MUAHAHA all the spooky vibes from Halloween are getting to me. I hope you guys enjoy this one because the plot is thickening. Also, I might be making a far stretch on one of the jokes i put in here... I am pretty sure these don't exist in ACOTAR but for the sake of the joke, just pretend they do 😭

Summary: After everyone in the Town House finding out about your night with Lucien and bond with Azriel, you have a nice relaxing night in with your girls... or so you thought it would be relaxing.

This is for all my Lucien girlies❤️

Warnings: lots of cursing, talk of wingspan and sex, verbal violence, and potential grammar errors

Word Count: ≈ 3,154

Chapter 5: "GYNO?"

While you were getting ready, Feyre and Rhysand were back in their room discussing what they had just learned about you-

“What should we do Rhys? Az has been wishing for his mate for so long, but little does he know that he has been so infatuated with Elain it’s caused a blockage of his bond with y/n!” as she too is getting ready for girl’s night.

“The only thing we can do is be there for y/n and for Az when the time comes. This is a very peculiar situation y/n and Az have gotten themselves into,” he chuckles as he places his hands on the sides of her waist looking at her getting ready.

“I know, and this just has gotten messier with time. It already was messy enough with Lucien being Elain's mate and her liking Az. But now, y/n being Azriel’s mate and liking Lucien just seems way too coincidental. I can tell she likes him; she is just in denial because she's still holding onto some glimmer of hope with Azriel,” she pauses. “Something just feels off Rhys,” as she starts to think through what could be going on.

“I also feel like there is something is off, and I think it’s deeply rooted. Only time will tell Feyre darling,” he says as he kisses the top of her head as she finishes up getting ready.

“I would just hate for any of them to get hurt…” she frowns up at Rhys.

“And no one will, because we will be there for them every step of the way no matter what happens,” he reassures her with a soft kiss on her lips. “Now, go have some fun with the girls tonight! But not too much fun,” he looks at her with a playful smile.

“We cannot promise anything,” she giggles. “GNI here I come!”

“GNI?” Rhys questions at the unfamiliar term.

“GNI stands for “Girls Night In,” usually it is GNO, but staying in sounds better since we were out a Rita's not too long ago.” She explains.

“GNO? Isn't that a lady doctor?” Feyre burst out into full on laughter. Tears were spilling from her eyes from laughing so hard. Rhys just looked at her questioningly because he didn’t understand what was so funny.

“Rhys… oh bless your soul… GNO is the same thing as GNI, but you go out instead of staying inside. A lady doctor is called a gyno! Oh, I am so telling the girls this!” As she wipes the tears from her eyes and catches her breath.

“Ahh shit… I'm never living that down now…”

“Nope,” as she pops the end of the word as she walks down to the living room for girl's night.

You walk down the stairs into the main living room to find all the girls already there giggling over wine all cozy in their pajamas.

“Wow, already started without me huh?” you say with a fake frown. They all look at you and smile, clearly already seeing some effect of the wine Mor brought.

“No! Just decided to pre-game a little bit!” Mor smiles at you and walks to you to link arms and lead you over to the group. You giggle.

“Well then, the party has arrived! Looks like I need a couple of glasses to catch up to you all!” you laugh. You look over and spot Amren and give her a polite smile. “It's nice to see you again Amren!”

“You too girl,” she says. “We have a lot of catching up to do!” She eyes you a bit eager to know what has been going on, but Feyre steps in.

“Nonono! I am putting a veto on discussing all things that have happened recently! We are here to forget about that and have fun! Now ladies raise your glasses,” Amren rolls her eyes, but everyone raises their wine, “and cheers to us girls and the wonderful night ahead of us!” Everyone whoops and laughs as they take a swig of their wine. You decide to down your glass to try and catch up as everyone cheers you on!

“Thats how you do it baby!” Mor pats you on the back and goes to pour you another glass.

“Oh, this night in is going to be quite interesting,” Amren says with a grin.

“Speaking of, I have something to tell you guys about what Rhys asked me earlier,” Feyre burst into laughter.

“What is it? Tell us girl!” Amren says inpatient with her laughing.

“Rhysand asked me what GNI meant, and I explained that it is basically GNO but instead of going out we stay in the comfort of our own home,” Feyre explained trying to hold in her laughter.

“Ok so like basic information, I don’t understand what is so funny?” Nesta asked confused.

“It gets funny I promise! Rhysand didn’t know what the abbreviation of GNO meant either. He said, and I quote, “GNO? Isn't that a lady doctor?”” As Feyre erupted into a fit of laughter. “He thought GNO was a gyno!”

You were the first to laugh, “You’re joking?”

“I wish I was!” Feyre was on the ground crying, and everyone soon joined her. Even Amren choked on her wine a bit from laughing at the situation Feyre just informed you guys of. Oh, poor Rhys is never going to hear the end of this one from any of you guys.

A couple of glasses later everyone is most definitely feeling the effects of the wine a lot stronger than when you first started. All of you are cuddled up together in blankets giggling over anything and everything. You decided to bring something up that you have been curious about ever since you saw it.

“Hey, Nesta! When I came home earlier today, I saw Cassian reading one of your little books.” You wink at her. “What is the book about, and why was Cassian studying it so intently?” Nesta blushes.

“I made him read a specific chapter on something that I wanted to try…” she admits quietly as she drinks more of her wine. Everyone started screaming asking to know what it was.

“Oh, Nesta come on!! You have to tell us what it is now! We are all girls here, we can handle book smut, I'm sure!” Mor says as she sits up eagerly.

“Yeah, please Nesta!” everyone says simultaneously.

“You guys want a smutty bedtime story?” She giggles as she leaves to go to get her book, and everyone cheers. Nesta comes back with the book, and everyone is already in giggles excited about hearing something they might be able to apply into their lives. “Get comfortable girls because this chapter is going to be wild!”

Everyone’s faces were bright pink along with their jaws being on the floor hearing Nesta read the chapter from the sheer number of descriptions given. Amren was the only one who remained stone faced throughout the whole thing, but you could tell every word that fell from Nesta's lips were remembered by Amren.

“Well, I can surely see why you had Cassian read that chapter now,” Amren smirked as she finished off her glass.

“Especially with his wingspan,” you said quietly, but it did not go unheard as everyone looked your way. “What?! You guys act like you don’t see his wings every day! A girl can appreciate big wingspans and think nothing of it!” Except you do think about it a lot. Curious to know which one of the bat boys has the biggest one. Everyone giggles at your comment.

“Don’t let Cassian hear that y/n, it’ll go straight to his head and then he will tell Rhysand and Az that he has the biggest one,” Nesta said with a knowing smile.

“I don’t mean to be inappropriate, but I think everyone forgets about Rhyland's wings since he only has them for special occasions.” Feyre said smirking.

“Oh little sister, are you challenging my mate’s wingspan?” Nesta eyed playfully, but before Feyre could respond you chirped in with one more fact.

“Ladies we are forgetting about one more male,” you started to blush at the thought of your mate’s wingspan.

“Oh, my gods, Azriel!” Mor finished it for you with a shout, totally feeling dumb not even thinking about the male. “If I am being brutally honest, I think he blows the other two out the water with his wingspan,” Mor said with a smirk as she twirled her wine glass and gave you a wink. This made you really blush now.

“You really think Azriel has the biggest wingspan?” Feyre asked.

“Yes.” Amren spoke and this all made you laugh hearing her agree on something like this.

“Has anyone seen Azriel’s-” Nesta tried to question.

“No,” was heard throughout the room before Mor looked at you knowingly.

“The only person in this room who could even get that close would-be y/n,” Mor said matter of factly. You blushed so hard you hid your face behind your hands.

“Mor! Stop I don’t want that image in my head!” You said giggling.

“I wouldn’t mind it…” Nesta said with a smirk remembering her thought of both Cassian and Azriel. Once again everyone laughed. This night was full of so much comfort and laughter you truly felt so at peace. However, with wine come consequences.

“Oh I forgot y/n only favors a certain red head in bed,” Mor said without thinking.

“MOR!!” You glared at her, and she slapped her hands over her mouth and said sorry. But it was too late, they all heard it.

“YOU HAD SEX WITH LUCIEN?! I thought yall just cuddled all night?!” Feyre asked with a squeal scooting closer to you.

“Ah shit- I guess yall get to know everything now… Before I met you guys, I lived in the spring court for a while,” Mor sat back and nursed her wine waiting for the reaction of the others on what you were about to tell. You tell them the story just as you had with Mor in the bathroom at Rita's. Everyone was in shock to find out about your hidden casual sex relationship with the autumn court male. Feyre was once again the one to speak up first.

“Is what they say true?”

“Is what true Feyre?” you asked back.

‘About them you know… fucking you with the fire in their veins?” Feyre asked eagerly. Everyone then scooted closer to you just like Feyre did earlier. You giggled at their anticipation.

“Yes, and it is so much more than you could even imagine.” Everyone squealed at your response!

“Screw my book y/n, tell us about a time you and Lucien had sex together! I want to hear all about the fire thing!!” Nesta said as everyone else agreed, even Amren is eager. However, before you could respond you heard a sweet voice you wished you hadn’t.

“Y/n, you had sex with my mate?!” Elain said as she had just walked through the door with Azriel, both had bags in their hands from their shopping spree.

“Oh shi-” Mor said before Elain moved closer to you, Azriel following close behind her eyeing you with anger.

“Answer me y/n! Did you or did you not have sex with my mate?!” Elain raised her voice this time.

“Elain I- I don’t know what you heard but I can explain,” you tried to reason with her for gods know what. You owed this female nothing but here you were trying to diffuse the situation. She threw her bag to the floor and pointed a finger at your face.

“NO! You expect me to hear you out after I come home to see everyone having a girl’s night without me, let alone talking about you and Lucien having sex? You are such a backstabbing sl-” before Elain could finish that sentence off Nesta was at her side.

“Elain, seriously drop it. Y/n has a valid explanation, just hear her out,” Nesta pleaded but Elain didn’t care. Maybe it was the protectiveness of the bond coming out of her, but she was not backing down.

“No! I am done being the polite one! You had sex with my mate behind my back! Is that why you both left Rita's? I cannot believe you y/n! No wonder you haven’t found your mate! It’s because you are too busy being a slut and fucking someone else’s mate!” She was fully in your face now; you looked behind her to see Azriel looking like he was about to kill you for hurting Elain. Feyre tried to step in this time.

“Elain, you do not know what you are talking about, you need to stop now before you say something you will regret!”

“Feyre, I do know what I am talking about! I heard it clear as night! She fucked my mate!” You just about had enough of being talked about this way. You kindly pushed Feyre and Nesta away from Elain and gave them small smiles to say sorry for what you were about to do.

“You know Elain, that’s a lot of talk coming from you. A female who has a mate that gladly agreed to her wishes on space. He sleeps alone every night waiting for the day that you will accept him! Oh, but poor Elain has no one to love and accept her! Wake the fuck up! Your mate has done everything for you since the day he found out, and yet you are sleazing yourself away to someone else!” You point at Azriel. “You want to talk about a slut, look in the fucking mirror!” Nesta and Feyre are looking at each other not knowing what to do, while Amren and Mor decide to stay out of it and observe the situation, ready to jump in when needed.

“Be careful how you speak about-” Azriel’s voice said dangerously low, but before he could finish that sentence you cut him off.

“Oh, don’t give me that shit Az! It might have worked in that meeting but it sure as hell isn’t going to work here!” You glared at him. “You are just as much a part of this as I am! Letting her fawn over you knowing she has found her mate is ludicrous! Especially when you’re the one who has dreamt of having a mate to call his own for years! What if your mate was standing right in front of you all along?” Everyone in the room goes silent at your words as you step into his personal space. Azriel's shadows are dancing furiously around him as he glares at you. You try pulling on the bond but are met with nothing in return except emptiness. He still doesn't know.

“You bitch!” Elain cautiously pushes you away from Az. “How dare you talk to us this way when you’re the one who threw themself at my mate knowingly! At least we have self-control!” she pushes her finger against your chest. You swat it away.

“GODS ELAIN! Why do you always have to play the victim! You can never admit to anything you have done wrong! You and him both,” you point at her and Az, “are hurting more people than you realize with whatever you want to call yourselves!”

“Well at least we are happy, unlike your mate less self-” Elain tried to say as you yelled-

“THAT’S IT!” in an instant everyone was in between you. Nesta, Feyre, and Amren blocked you from Elain as Azriel and Mor held you back. “Let me go Azriel!” you thrash in their grip. You watch as Feyre and Nesta try and calm their sister. Amren serving as a middle ground between both groups. You keep thrashing around but it's no use. The shadow singer has you in a tight hold as Mor holds one of your arms. You look at Mor with pleading eyes, but she just shakes her head at you as if to say, “fighting her isn’t right.” And you knew that… You were just so taken back by both her and Azriel being against you without hearing your explanation. Sure, Elain was somewhat valid, but nowhere near as valid as the points you were making.

You soon calmed down and looked at Mor again, “Can you please let me go now? I won’t do anything… anymore.” Mor looked at Az and he put his lips against you ear and said-

“If you so much as think about insulting her or hurting her, I will not hesitate to fire back violence, so be a good girl and walk away.” You cannot lie, having your mate that close to you and hearing him call you a good girl had your heart betraying you for a moment. You shoved yourself out of their grip and stormed towards the door before you would do anything regrettable.

“Where do you think you’re going?! I am not done with you y/n!” Elain screamed as you walked past, the jealousy of the bond obviously still influencing her. You stopped in your tracks and turned around to see Azriel now trying to calm her down. Tears collected in your eyes at the sight. He was supposed to be doing that with you, not her! You begged, screamed, yelled, pushed, and thrashed against that bond inside of you fighting for any kind of response. You don’t know how long you stood there mindlessly watching him comfort Elain as you used every fiber of your being against the bond and got nothing in return. That was your last straw. The wicked voice in your head took full control. Quite literally letting all intrusive thoughts win. You started laughing.

“Gods Elain you have everyone in this damn world wrapped around your pretty little finger, don’t you? Well guess what, I see right through your fucking act of desperation for the male gaze and male attention.” Azriel looked at you as a warning to watch your next words, but Elain ran out of his arms and ran straight to you. You and she were now face to face. A test to see who was daring enough to hit first.

“Fuck you y/n!!” Elain said with a pause between each word, and you smirked.

“I may not be able to fuck myself Elain, but you know what I can fuck?” you slightly paused as the realization hit her. “I can go fuck with fire!” you say with a wink as you walk out the Town House’s front door straight to Lucien’s apartment.

Lucien’s POV:

Lucien was relaxing on his couch reading one of his favorite books before he felt it. An overwhelming flood of emotions hitting him. It was as if they were screaming at him from two different ends of the bond. He learned how to process Elain’s end of the bond throughout the years, but whatever was going on was too much to deal with. This was all unknown feeling. Lucien ran to grab his coat and he quickly put it on. Just as he was reaching for his door to run to Elain, he heard a hard knock. He opened the door to find you in a fit of rage as you stormed inside. “Okay, just come on in why don’t you.” he said sarcastically as he shut the door behind you. "Nice pajamas by the way," he says jokingly before looking at you to see you glaring at him. "Shit, who pissed in your wine tonight?"

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Tags:

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[starsreminisce]

I’m honestly afraid of sjm. Like i could imagine that she would introduce gwyn just to build another obstacle for elriel. And if she does that i will never forgive her for it. I will never pick up another book of her. Like no girl you already had lucien/az/elain there is no need for another person. And for that person to have such a horrible past where az is also a part of. So i just really hope it will be gwynriel

I can imagine the fear, as SJM does like to bait and switch her endgames. I know a lot of people were banking on Hunt not being Bryce's endgame because of her penchant for first loves not being forever loves.

But you're right, it doesn’t make sense for Gwyn to be an obstacle for E/riel when Azriel is already an obstacle for Elucien. The grave Azriel dug by calling her a mistake, leaving without apologizing, and giving her present to another girl who made him feel more settled to the point of contentment than Elain ever did is practically a tunnel to Tibet.

Nesryn wasn't even an obstacle for Chaolrene.

It's evident because there were no moments between Elain and Azriel after the Solstice.

E/riel has more stacked against them: the tropes SJM likes, the tropes she doesn’t, how she feels about forbidden romances, the way she believes a male ought to act towards the female, fourth wall hints through interviews, and pins on Pinterest. Shit, even her Pisces Venus gives us more ideas of what she values.

Of course, this is her world, her characters, her imagination. As much as people are sick and tired of her writing fated mates, I’m equally tired of reading about triangles where the only convincing thing that pulls a female to the "darker" version is simply because they are drawn to them "for whatever reason."

She did that already. It was Feysand. Rhys was her mate so it's a damn good reason for being drawn to him.

I think I’ve given enough chances and read enough Pro-E/riel metas that I’m still not convinced why Azriel, who treats Gwyn more like the other males treat their endgames in her other series, would end up with Elain over Lucien. We don’t have a Gwyn equivalent for Lucien, and Vassa is no longer a factor now that Lucien knows she has little time left and decides to come up to Velaris for Solstice.

It’s like what you said—SJM had the opportunity in HOFAS to give us a way to let go of Elucien/Gwynriel, but she dug deeper into her mating lore. The Cauldron had been refashioned into the world's kill switch, but we know that all mating bonds come from a higher being. Bryce didn’t see her own mating bond while holding Truth-Teller, so how is Azriel going to cut Elucien’s? Slicing the air between Elain and Lucien? lol.

So, with all that, if Tamlin-Feyre-Rhys, Ithan-Bryce-Hunt, and Dorian-Celaena-Chaol are her examples of triangles, we know she has a clear demarcation line of when one relationship ends and another begins. She made Ruhn and Hypaxia pretty clear they weren’t endgame, and let me tell you, my fake-dating heart was broken with Bryce and Cormac (they didn't even fake date!).

SJM loves her bait-and-switches and surprises when it comes to endgames, but she’s been consistent in showing the "why" behind each pairing. She doesn’t let someone go without the female having an epiphany, and if you remove the mating bond from any couple, there’s still that "Like Calls to Like" foundation between them.

I was shocked when Elain and Lucien were revealed as mates in ACOMAF, and ACOSF just confirmed that they’re still developing. I don’t need to know how Elain and Lucien are doing in ACOSF when I know Azriel had a difficult time with Elain, only to end the bonus chapter happy with Gwyn.

If SJM retcons that, then I’d seriously question her planning, and I might be better off letting the series go altogether.

Thanks for asking! I hope this was helpful!

[multific]

Lucien Crown as Your Sugar Daddy - Headcanons

Lucien Crown x Reader

Warnings: Smut, Sugar Daddy, illness

You called him Lucien or Daddy

No matter what others said or called him as

To you he was Daddy or Lucien

Or any cute nickname you could come up with

As long as it wasn’t Milo

After Michael’s many promises of a cure, Lucien had enough

And so, without even looking, during a meeting with a politician, he became aware of sugar babies

The topic intrigued him enough to start looking

He figured he might as well have some fun before he dies

He interviewed in total 16 girls

None piqued his interest

You arrived a bit late, the 17th girl

And you were perfect

While he could tell the others pitied him for his illness

You did not

You treated him equally throughout the interview 

You even joked around

And he liked that

You had a few set of rules as you explained that he would be your first.. Sugar Daddy

Your rules were very basic and he agreed to them all

He whipped up a contract that day and you both signed it

You were the perfect distraction

While you did take his illness seriously, you didn’t shy away from joking

For example, whenever you two were walking somewhere, you would call him grandpa

“Come on Grandpa! You are so slow! I shouldn’t have to call you Daddy when in reality you are Grand-Daddy!!!”

You made him laugh

Every time, all day

And soon, you moved to his place

He wanted you around all the time

And you were happy to be there

You were surprised when he said he doesn’t require you to have sex with him

You thought that was a huge part of Sugar Daddies

But you also understood that he was different

He wanted someone around him, someone to take his mind off of his pain

And you tried your best to do just that

He set up an account for you, gave you a card and explained he will put enough money on it for you and you could spend the money as you please

But he was surprised to see, you didn’t buy anything

In fact, you only bought things for him

You got him a nice new tie that you saw

You got ingredients because you wanted to bake cupcakes

You got him a birthday present

If he didn’t know any better, he would say you were in love with him

And he would be correct

But he didn’t know

He brought you on many dates

Dates to the best restaurants

Dates to the nicest places

Dates to stores where he would buy you dresses he likes to see you in

During one date however, a couple of drunk guys started to laugh at him, making fun of him

And you didn’t like that

He said he was used to it

But you weren’t

“Hey! Fuckfaces! Go and make fun one yourselves instead, you pathetic bunch! I will let you know he has the biggest cock and he surely knows how to use it! You disgusting cockroaches!”

The men ran as two cops arrived because of your yelling

Lucien was thankful for what you did

On your ride back home, you worriedly turned to him

“I shouldn’t have said that earlier. I embarrassed you, I apologize.”

“Quite the opposite actually, you made me very proud. Thank you for standing up for me.” he said

And he kissed you, it was the first kiss you two shared

A simple kiss

But it meant so much to the both of you

It was the day he noticed he had feelings for you

He would often sit in his office, looking at the contract

As if to remind himself why were you there

You wouldn’t be there if you didn’t have the contract

And he was sure you would leave as soon as it would end

But if that’s the truth

If you really were there only for his money

Then why didn’t spend it?

He checked time and time again, waiting for anything

A huge purchase or a transfer

He thought you would transfer the money to your own account

But nothing like that happened

It confused him

So much so that one morning, during breakfast, he asked you

He asked you why would you stay and don’t spend the money

“Because I genuinely like you, Lucien. If anything, I should say I am in love with you. But I know you don’t feel the same and that’s okay.”

But he did

And he told you he did

Both of you just sat there, confused and shocked

But after the shock, you both started dating

With the contract officially burnt

You two had sex that night for the first time, you were nervous but you knew you had to help him a lot, and you were okay with that

Turns out, when you yelled at those men, you were actually pretty accurate

He did have a very nice cock

And while his illness didn’t allow him to be on top

You absolutely enjoyed riding him

All. Night. Long.

Sometimes he had to tell you to slow down because he was tired

But it also didn’t take him long to regain his strength and keep going

He also had a wonderful mouth which you didn’t know he could use so skillfully, but he surely did

He definitely had a thing for you being the dominant one

But you did let him tell you what he wanted you to do

You let him lead you

You were happy

You were in love and happy

But you still didn’t stop calling him Daddy from time to time

A/N: I have more ideas for him, let me know if anyone would be interested and I’ll write those.

Taglist: @fleursirvart @greenarrowhead @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster @capsiclesdoll @puknow @alwayshave-faith @alex12948 @lxdyred  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl​ @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @praline357 @trshngyn @avengers-r-us @violet-19999 @top1bbgloak   @manduse   @jacalineiscomingforyou  

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, PLAGIARISE, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

[separatist-apologist]

Something In The Orange

Summary: Someone is trying to murder Eris Vanserra's soon-to-be wife.

And no one can rule him out as a suspect

Note: Big thanks to @octobers-veryown for the mood board and the unknown anon for the song inspiration.

For @sjmromanceweek

Read On AO3

For the entirety of Arina’s life, she’d been destined to be the wife of a Vanserra. Lucien Vanserra to be specific. The ink on her marriage contract was dried before she herself was, likely still squalling in a midwife’s aching arms as her father lamented his poor fortune. Sons brought glory, daughters cost money. 

Arina might have been angry about her circumstances in a different life. In this one, though, Arina considered herself luckier than most other women she knew. Lucien was merely a year older than her—a seventh son, too, which meant he’d be sent off to some country estate, lord of the territory his father gave him. She would have no responsibility toward a vulnerable population nor would Arina ever be in danger of becoming queen.

After years of watching her father rule, a minor lord on the outskirts of the massive kingdom the Vanserra’s ruled, Arina thought that was a blessing. There was never enough gold to go around and what little money that could be scraped together, her father took in taxes. Arina felt shame every time she was paraded through the small city they lived in, dressed in finery while the people stared up, faces dirty, clothes threadbear. 

Beron Vanserra sent a chest of gold meant for Arina every year on her birthday. It was for her education and other frippery according to the notes—though in truth, Arina suspected it was a reminder that her father owed Beron. There was no backing out, no offering Arina up for better prospects.

There were no better prospects, to be fair. No one wanted the poor daughter of minor nobility nor did they want to inherit her fathers poor kingdom. Beron intended to subsume it into his own, allowing her family the rights to the land so long as they kissed the Vanserra ring. That was her fathers problem—not hers. Arina intended to waste her time drinking and dancing and whatever else the wives of Vanserras did.

Beron put the marriage off for a total three years past their original agreement. She should have married Lucien when she was eighteen—and yet Arina wasn’t officially called to the palace until the eve of her twenty-first birthday. Arina was instructed to come without a retinue. Only her father accompanied her, silent in the carriage as they rode. He didn’t need to speak to her in order for his will to be clear—if she did anything to mess this up, the consequences would be severe.

Deadly, even.

After all, Arina’s mother had not survived long enough to bring another child into her fathers world. No sons would save their family, leaving Arina to marry well and without complaint. She’d written to Lucien over the years and he’d written back. It was hardly some great love match but he seemed nice enough. Funny, when he wanted to be, and polite when he didn’t. Arina had decided long before now that she was satisfied with this man. 

Unlike her own home which seemed to be in a constant state of disrepair, the Vanserra palace was massive. Made of glittering gold and wild, old oak, the sprawling castle dripped with wealth. The city that surrounded it was just as opulent, though there was an aura of despair hanging in the air that tasted sickly sweet in Arina’s mouth. 

There was a clear and obvious divide between those with power and influence and those who did not. Arina had expected to see wealth equally which was perhaps naive. Beron had always seemed generous to her, sending gifts of gold and jewels on a whim. Why would his people fare any differently? 

That wasn’t her problem, she reminded herself. All Arina needed to do was fulfill her end of the contract, marry Lucien, and get on with things. Arina could simply turn her face from the fingerprint stained window and study the palace. It truly was beautiful, illuminated by warm shafts of spring light and framed just beyond by newly awakened trees crammed so tightly together it was impossible to tell where one ended and the next began. 

The palace itself was walled off, using both a gate that had to be opened for their carriage to pass through, and a bridge that caused the vehicle to lurch back and forth sickeningly. Beyond, Arina saw a white, ivory garden wall encircling at least the front of the palace, monitored by guards walking the length with sharp swords and a quiver of arrows against their backs. 

That didn’t keep people out—it merely kept them aware of the fate that would befall them should anyone decide to step out of line. As Arina disembarked, smoothing the wrinkles out of her rose pink skirts, her father was patted down for weapons. No one but the guards were allowed to be armed in the presence of the king, and Arina wondered if her father would get his sword back.

No one bothered to check her, which was lucky. They’d have found a small hunting knife tucked into her boot. 

Arina didn’t expect to need it—but it never hurt to be prepared. This was a new court with new men, and the ones back home were just handsy enough that Arina felt better with a knife. An old servant had taught her to use it—in exchange for a kiss she’d been all too happy to oblige him with—before her father sent him away. 

Arina was surprised by how busy the palace seemed to be. People moved around the drive, some making their way toward the front doors, open wide as butlers checked lists before allowing them through. Others, carrying heavy baskets covered in thin, white blankets, quickly walked around the palace toward some side door servants who were expected to enter and exit. There was an obvious and clear divide—neither groups looked at the other nor did they interact. It was as if neither was there.

A game of play-pretend, Arina supposed as she fell in step behind her father. Bowing her head ever so slightly, Arina clasped her hands in front of her body and began her own game of play-pretend. In this game, she was the obedient, demure daughter of her father and would become the obedient, demure wife of Lucien, too.

“This way, my lord,” a butler dressed in black with silver buttons, beckoned for her father to follow. What would her mother think of all this? Would she have been allowed to come, too? Arina barely remembered anything about the woman who had given her life—her mother had been sick more often than not, leaving Arina in the care of nurses and governesses. 

This was how her mother had been married, though. Back then their home had been worth something and her fathers name carried weight. He’d had the pick of the available ladies and had chosen her mother.

Arina had dared to ask him why, once. She was the most beautiful of the lot.

He’d said it so dismissively, like it ought to have been obvious to Arina. She knew she was too romantic—a dozen tutors had accused her of no less over the years. She knew her marriage was about practicality and not romance and still, over the years, she’d clung to those letters from Lucien and hoped that maybe there could be something between them. He seemed friendly enough. Nice, too, though of course she might have read too much into his careful, polite words.

Arina had been holding that hope for years, though. All of it was about to come to fruition as they stepped into a small study where Beron was waiting behind a glossy top wooden desk. Huge windows, framed with maroon, velvet curtains, allowed light to stream into the room.

Arina and her father bowed, though Arina found herself looking at the man leaned up against a bookcase with a sour expression on his face.

This wasn’t Lucien—she’d seen him a few times in her youth and what she remembered painted Lucien as a man with far darker skin similar to the shade of her own skin. His hair had always been long, his features softer. This man was fair skinned and tall, muscular like it was intentional versus the accidental effects of laborious work. His auburn hair was cut short, his eyes a cool, amber brown, his features sharp as though he’d been recently carved from marble. He was beautiful and cold in equal measure and Arina was grateful he wasn’t looking at her. 

“This is your daughter?” Beron asked, rising from his chair with gleaming brown eyes. There was no mistaking him and his son—they were so painfully related even if the other man’s features came from his mother, their expressions, their posture—that was all the same.

Cold men holding court. Arina took a small step backward without meaning to, instinctively looking for the door. This caught the younger man’s attention. His gaze flicked to her face, mouth sloping into a deep set frown. Why was he here? 

There was no escape. Arina’s father caught her wrist and thrust her forward like she was little more than a prized cow at auction. Beron looked her over dispassionately. 

“She looks just like her mother.”

Arina felt frozen right then, heart pounding in her chest. This wasn’t what she’d imagined. She’d pictured Lucien greeting her and spending the next month getting to know him outside the watchful eyes of their parents. Maybe she’d see the king once or twice as he arranged their little marriage and then sent them off. 

Not this. 

“Your letter said you wanted to discuss the terms of our original agreement?” her father said, taking the hand that had once been wrapped around her wrist to place it on her shoulder. At this, the younger man looked away again, his face unable to conceal his disgust. 

Beron sighed, turning his head toward the window for a moment. “My youngest son has been accused of compromising another lady of court.”

Oh no.

Beside Arina, her father became notably interested. His expression brightened, his posture just a little more rigid. This was good news, though for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why. Beron noticed it, too, if his own darkened gaze was any indication. Something in the original contract had stipulated for this and whatever it was, it clearly benefited her father.

“When we put the original agreement together, we accounted for this,” Beron began smoothly, picking up a neatly folded document to hand to her father. 

“We did,” her father agreed, taking that document without reading it. “I assume you’ve come to make an offer.”

“My eldest son,” Beron replied easily, gesturing to the man still leaning against the bookcase. “Eris and I have spoken and he’s agreed to fulfill his brothers place.”

Her fathers shoulders slumped ever so slightly as Eris finally righted himself, looking not at Arina but directly at her father. “It would be my pleasure,” he said in a voice that betrayed how little of a pleasure it truly was. 

It wasn’t what her father wanted, though whatever it was he’d been hoping to gain, Arina wasn’t going to find out. Beron, aware he had her father boxed in a corner, offered a slick smile.

“Why don’t we go over the terms together? I think you’ll find I’ve been more than generous.”

“You always have been good to our family,” her father gritted out through a syrupy smile. 

“Eris, show Arina her accommodations while her father and I talk,” Beron said, waving them both out of the room as though they didn’t matter. Eris had clearly been told of this ahead of time and Arina wished someone would have warned her. Nodding, Eris stepped from the room without looking at her, his shoulders tight beneath the brown of his jacket. She had no choice but to follow after him, fingers curled to fists.

Eris slammed the door behind them loud enough to rattle a nearby picture in its frame. So he was angry, too. She doubted he felt any solidarity with her—she could imagine he saw her as the enemy which was just fine, because he fared no better in her estimation, either. 

“You,” Eris barked at a passing servant, beckoning them closer. “Show the lady her room.”

“Your father said—”

“I heard what my father said,” Eris snapped, interrupting Arina before she could get the rest of her indignant words out. “Unless you think my staff can’t be trusted?”

Oh, fuck him, she thought. “Charming,” she replied, holding his gaze. Eris stared back, waiting for her to back down. Arina ought to have. If he’d been anyone else she might have looked away, but this was about to be her future husband and she’d be damned if she let him think she was scared. 

Though, she was. Arina was terrified of him.

Eris took a step back when it was clear Arina was prepared to face off with him, inclining his head to the side for a moment as though to study her. “You won’t survive a week in this engagement.”

And with that, he turned on his polished boots and left her to the nervous, near trembling servant. She wasn’t going to chase him down, nor was she going to beg him. He could be mad at her all he liked. It wasn’t until she was being shown a rather large apartment that Arina considered what it meant to marry Eris Vanserra.

Gone were her hopes of an easy, simple life. Suddenly Arina felt the weight of expectation, of a life she’d never been prepared for. She’d be the wife of a king, with all the stipulations that came with that. No matter how cruel Eris was to her, Arina would have to put on a brave face and manage it. She had to have children with that man. Arina tried to picture what it would be like before she forced the image from her mind entirely. Perhaps he’d be quick—she’d heard men were more often than not. She could grit her teeth and get through it and perhaps, if she gave him a son, he’d find himself a mistress and leave her be.

Exile her to a country estate, even, where she could run her own household and have her own life outside of him. It wasn’t the great love she’d been hoping for but it was better than nothing. Better than seven sons, like his own mother had given Beron Vanserra. Two seemed like enough. What Arina needed was a plan. 

Staring at the sitting room of the apartment she’d been given, Arina decided right then and there she would make the best of things. It wasn’t what she’d wanted, but it was still an escape from the misery of life with just her father. No more emboldened courtiers pawing at her, no more of her fathers advisors leering and touching when they thought he wasn’t looking. No more being screamed at—at least, by her father. Who knew what kind of tactics Eris might employ? 

Separate bedchambers. 

Separate lives. 

She’d smile and placate him, lulling him into a false sense of security and maybe he’d drop his attitude in favor of apathy. Starting with the dinner she was expected to attend. She’d show him right then and there he didn’t need to concern himself with her at all. Then she could try and make a friend at court who could show her around and help her acclimate herself. 

Arina was practically vibrating when she was summoned. She’d changed from pink to a robins egg blue that was entirely modest, from the high neckline to the long sleeves and she’d pinned her thick, long hair up off her face with little pearl pins that matched the ones dangling from her ears. 

She looked pretty and she knew it, just like Arina knew that men valued that above all else. When their own children asked Eris why he’d married her, he could tell them she’d been the prettiest woman he’d ever seen and it would be true enough. Maybe her children wouldn’t mind as much. 

Eris was waiting in the small dining room when Arina was shown in and to his credit, he rose from his chair the way a gentleman ought to. 

“Here,” he said, pushing out her chair with his foot. Arina forced herself to smile at him, smoothing her skirts beneath her as she sat. It was only once she was seated that Eris joined her, angled away as he fiddled with his glass of wine. Was he drunk? His cheeks were slightly flushed, his eyes bright but otherwise he had that same arrogant sneer on his face.

“You look nice,” Arina lied. He looked fine in the same jacket he’d been wearing when they met. 

Eris scoffed before downing the remnants of his cup.

“There’s no need to lie, lady.”

“Fine. You look miserable without the manners to even try and conceal it,” she heard herself saying, her good plan crumbling before her eyes. With raised brows, Eris looked over at her.

“Would you like to try that one again, my lady?”

“I was told I’d be marrying your brother,” she hissed, aware there were servants in the room and that gossip spread quickly. 

“A fate I’ve so graciously spared you from. Where is your gratitude?” Eris replied dryly. 

“Your brother seemed kind–”

“You would have been bored by the end of the month,” Eris snapped, clearly tired. “I thought all women dreamed of being princesses?”

Arina didn’t know what to say to that so she picked at the little beads on her dress if only to have something to do with her hands. 

“Well. Your father is certainly pleased,” Eris added seconds before the door opened. His goblet was refilled as her father, Beron, and a retinue of men she didn’t know or recognize strolled in. Their chatter was enough to drown out any remaining conversation between Eris and Arina which could only be a good thing. It was clearly too early to hope they might get along, and Arina needed to figure out a way to leash her temper before it got the better of her.

Again.

Arina was used to being treated as decoration. And as her father sat without acknowledging her—as Beron pulled Eris into a conversation with some of the other courtiers—Arina was left to sit there silently and eat politely. They were all covertly watching her, judging every movement, every whispered sigh, every scrape of her utensils. What would happen if they found her wanting?

She didn’t want to learn the answer to that question so Arina kept a pleasant smile pasted to her face just like she’d learned to do back home. With each new course, Arina made a delicate show of eating only a third of whatever was served to her which clearly pleased some of the older men at the table. She passed on wine in favor of water and whenever a compliment was paid to her, she made a show of dropping her gaze and thanking them demurely. 

Eris seemed to recognize her theatrics for what they were, smirking into his goblet each time she did it like there was nothing funnier to him. Arina had half a mind to kick him—and she might have, too—had something warm not begun crawling up her throat. 

She looked down at the bowl of potato soup in front of her, strangely fascinated as it warped from one porcelain bowl into two, to three, and back to a singular entity. The heat intensified, causing Arina to gasp for air. She didn’t know what possessed her, but she reached for Eris’s leg, digging her nails into the fabric of his trousers as she tried to get a grip on reality.

Something was wrong. 

She couldn’t breathe.

Arina blinked, intending to take a slow, controlled breath of air and then excuse herself. When she opened her eyes, however, she found herself laying on the floor staring upward into a pair of disinterested amber eyes. The commotion around her seemed to suggest someone was concerned—her father, maybe?

But right then, all Arina could see was the icy, bored expression of her soon-to-be husband.

And she was certain this was all his fault.

ERIS:

“What do you expect me to do about this?” Eris demanded furiously, staring at his father. He needed to get his temper in check before Beron punished him and yet Eris couldn’t help his aggrieved feelings. “If she’s so desperate to escape this marriage, let her.”

“And pay her bastard father to run his kingdom into the ground for another fifty years?”

“Why would you ever add that to a marriage contract?” Eris heard himself asking, furious that Lucien’s little dalliance with one of the Archeron’s had led him to this position. Arina was probably perfectly nice—she was certainly beautiful—and he didn’t want her. Didn’t want any wife his father picked out for him and had done a good job running them off. 

“I had seven worthless sons by then—all of whom would need wives. If not Lucien, someone else.”

“Then let Tanwen—”

“I’ll not hear another complaint from you,” Beron barked out, eyes flashing a warning. Eris forced himself to swallow his anger, to take a breath and let it go for the moment. It was clear his father wanted this to happen and his fathers will was an extension of his own. 

“She’s alive,” Beron continued, as if Eris cared about that. It was cruel, but when Eris had seen her convulsing on the ground all he’d felt was relief. She’d die and he’d be free of her, along with the entire marriage he didn’t want. “I want to know who's responsible for this and I want them punished. Quietly.”

“Consider it done.”

“Check in on your mother. She’d distraught,” Beron added by way of dismissal. 

Of course she would be. The mere words were enough to force some sympathy into Eris’s otherwise emotionless chest. Arina was merely a casualty in his fathers obsession with expansion. It should have been Lucien who arranged this deal, leaving Eris to ally with a princess who had, if nothing else, been born with the correct expectations. He’d been set on Nesta Archeron before Lucien went and mucked the whole thing up with the middle sister. Who knew Elain was her father’s favorite and he’d take it personally if a foreign born princess undressed his precious daughter?

Lucien had sworn he’d done nothing inappropriate but what was done was done. Lucien was getting a second born princess but nothing more—there would be no exchange of territory and a very loose agreement that constituted an alliance. 

And Eris was getting some rural, minor lords daughter that someone hated enough to want dead. Find out who it was, it could have been anyone. The arrangement was not popular at court and Eris considered it could be any number of lords who felt their daughters had been snubbed for Arina.

Would his father execute one of his favored courtiers? All for one woman they’d made a bad deal with? Her father must be delighted, Eris thought, to realize what had once been a decent marriage would now elevate him into the father-in-law to a king. He’d be given titles and wealth far beyond what he currently already possessed.

Eris felt his feelings harden toward Arina again. 

He found his mother in her private apartment, wringing her hands with tear stained cheeks. “Oh, Eris,” she breathed, wrongly assuming he must be upset over what he witnessed. Eris opened his arms to her all the same, pulling his crying mother against his chest. She cared, which made her far better than him in every measure that mattered. Too good for the Vanserra’s in general, though no one would dare say so. 

“Is she alright?” 

“I assume so,” Eris replied, earning himself a swat. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt nor was it malicious. His mother looked up at him with disappointment as Eris walled himself up to keep himself from internalizing her words.

“You haven’t gone to check?”

“I met her this afternoon and it didn’t go well,” he replied, following his mother to a little two seater couch facing the fireplace. “I think I can wait until tomorrow to offer my sympathies.”

“She seems like a nice girl,” his mother sniffed, dabbing her eyes on a handkerchief Eris had produced from his jacket pocket.

Nice wasn’t how he’d describe Arina. He had the sense she was more than the doe-eyed thing he’d witnessed at dinner, if her little snappish comments were anything to go on. 

“Did you know father would have to subsidize her fathers territory if she didn’t marry into our family?” Eris asked, already knowing the answer. Of course she didn’t—Beron didn’t tell his wife anything. 

“I know you’re upset about losing Nesta,” his mother began, misunderstanding what bothered Eris so much. Everyone kept assuming it was a love match between them rather than a practical understanding of the power they might wield together. Nesta had understood it, had even agreed right up until Lucien was caught with Elain. “But would it be so terrible to readjust your expectations, Eris?”

Yes, it would be. Without Nesta, Eris was still trapped under his fathers thumb and now responsible with keeping Arina from becoming trapped as well. There would be no money, no army, no powerful woman with a kingdom of her own to stand behind him should he fail. Just another powerless girl shoved at him and unlike the last one, Eris couldn’t send her back.

“Your projecting,” Eris replied. “You are nothing like her.”

“I remember how I felt when I was brought here. My own father was pretty quick to leave just as soon as our marriage license dried and I was on my own. You know how…busy…your father is. You could try to make her feel welcome.”

“You managed just fine,” Eris said, though as the words left his mouth he felt instant regret. His father was brutally cruel to his mother when the mood struck him, swinging between open devotion and clandestine violence seemingly on a whim. His mother had managed in spite of his father and he knew he’d just inadvertently told his mother none of it was a big deal. “I’ll talk to her.”

It was a compromise to wipe the look of hurt from his mothers face. She was the only woman Eris had ever loved and as far as he was concerned, the only woman he’d ever love. He wasn’t interested in caring for someone the way his father cared about his mother. It made him obsessive, controlling, and at times, violent. Eris didn’t want to lose himself that way and was terrified that it was in his nature to love someone that way. Not that he’d ever admit it—but it was useful information to know about himself.

Eris didn’t visit Arina until the next morning, busying himself at night with his favorite distraction: too much whiskey and Lady [whoever]. He wasn’t married yet, and Eris had never promised Arina anything, least of all his fidelity. Eris found her sitting in a window, knees hidden beneath a pale yellow dress. 

Eris had seen a lot of women in his life. More women than most men if he was being honest with himself. Since he’d come of age, women had thrown themselves at him and he’d allowed it, delighting in the attention and the ease with which he could get someone into his bed. And in the course of his dallying, he’d seen countless noble women with their hair unbound. 

And yet something happened when Arina turned her wan face to look at him. Her hair was long and thick, draped nearly to her waist as it fell in soft, brushed out waves. He might not have given it a second thought had she not turned her head just in that moment, allowing a rather bright beam of light illuminate the golden strands and warm her otherwise wan face.

Gods, but Arina was the most beautiful woman currently at court. Maybe in the world—Eris couldn’t remember seeing anyone more lovely even when they were as sad as she currently was. Eris found himself at a loss for words which Arina chose to interpret as mocking.

“Do you need something, prince?”

“I…” 

She turned her head away from him, rolling her eyes as she did. That was enough to remind Eris that she was merely a woman and not one he particularly cared about. Sexual attraction would help, if nothing else. “You’re well?” he asked, grateful to hear the sneer had returned to his words.

“No thanks to you.”

Eris pushed off the door frame he’d been leaned again, stepping into the airy, soft room she’d been given. It was fit for a princess and he wondered how it compared to her rooms back home. He’d heard stories that the estate was dilapidated, its staffing sparse. What it had was a good defensive position given its rocky landscape and the river that choked off other invasion points, forcing any army coming over land to take one specific path forward which made it easily picked off. 

Or, so his father said. Eris had never seen it, had never had any desire to. He’d been offered, but back then Arina was Lucien’s fiance and Eris had opted not to join in favor of remaining at home. What a waste given his current circumstances. Eris would have liked to have known exactly how to lord his wealth and power over his new wife, if only to keep her from snapping at him.

“Did you imagine me a physician?” Eris asked with some amusement. 

“I imagined you as someone with manners,” Arina shot back, drawing her knees closer to her chest. “Not the sort of coward who would delight in watching his betrothed die before his very eyes.”

“What did you say?” he asked, more taken aback than angry. No one had ever spoken to him that way. 

She didn’t even look at him. “I said you’re a coward and you were hoping I’d die. And I didn’t say this next part, but I don’t want to be married to you, either. I’ve heard stories about you.”

Eris’s heart thudded in his chest. “What kind of stories?”

“How you left a woman to die in your forest rather than marry her. That you’re capable of that kind of cruelty.”

Ah, Morrigan. How he’d never live that accusation down. Eris hadn’t bothered to try and had no intention of explaining the circumstances to Arina given what she was covertly accusing him of. She thought he’d tried to kill her?

Eris wanted to put that accusation to rest. “If I wanted you dead, princess, you’d be dead.”

He watched her press her lips together, saw how those mossy green eyes hardened with hatred. His mother was going to kill him the moment she got Arina alone and learned about this. 

“Then you should know if I wanted you dead, you would be dead.”

She shrugged her slim shoulders. “It sounds to me like you aren’t particularly skilled in that arena.”

“Are you daring me?” Eris asked incredulously. 

“Merely making an observation,” she replied, turning to look at him again. Eris found he preferred when she didn’t given how beautiful her face was and how stupid it made him. If she’d just pull her hair up, Eris could treat her like every other entitled noblewoman—just like he had yesterday.

Though, had he really looked at her? Eris had been drunk for most of the day. Maybe he simply hadn’t noticed what was now staring back at him. His wife was beautiful and the part of him that coveted such things liked that.

Not wife. Almost wife. 

“I came to see how you were doing,” Eris snapped, irritated with her and himself. 

“Your father came last night,” Arina replied, some of the spark leaving her eyes. 

“My father?” he asked, eyes scanning her form quickly. 

“To offer a sincere apology for the attack,” she said, hands twisting nervously in her lap. “And assure me you’d get to the bottom of it.”

“And I will,” Eris lied. For all he knew she’d merely had an allergic reaction to some new ingredient or the poison had been meant for him and not her. Eris very much doubted someone would be foolish enough to try again. 

“Yet here you are,” she dismissed, turning back to the window. Eris curled his fingers into fists to resist the urge to throttle her into obedience. His father had assured him Arina was the model of female piety, not the sharp-tongued creature he was currently looking at. 

“People clamor for my company at court, you know,” Eris said, unsure why he was bothering.

She smothered a smile. “Go bother them, then.”

“Maybe I will,” he bit back, annoyed.

“Good.”

“Fine.”

Arina merely waved him off, leaving Eris outraged as he stomped out of her room. He had half a mind to go complain to her father, if only to bring Arina into line. And then what, he wondered? Would she like him more or would it make her hate him more than she already did? Eris considered if he cared for just a moment.

And decided that he did care.

And he’d take her as she was.

[shadowqueenjude]

That Solstice scene :(((

@zenkindoflove I'm sorry for this one... @achaotichuman will probably love it though. Lucien closed his eyes shut, trying to shut down all the feeling in his body, his mind. But he felt everything, as if someone were poking him with hot iron rods. He writhed in his bed, trying to control the urges his body were feeding him. His hands clutched the covers, his teeth gritted with the effort to stay in bed. It took every bit of willpower he'd ever had in his life to resist the urge to storm into that hall and rip Azriel to shreds. He knew he would win. He knew Azriel was terrified of fire, and his mated rage would do the rest. But he wouldn't do it. He wouldn't hurt him, even though his body screamed bloody murder. He would endure, as he'd endured every time he'd come across that slimy worm Graysen in the human lands. He'd swallow his screams because he was a gentleman. But sometimes he was so tired of being the nice guy. Sometimes, he longed to do something crazy and rip people to shreds, like he had done that day in Hybern when he'd rushed to see if Elain was ok. But his crazy had only done him a disservice with Amarantha. His eye. The stinging crack of the whip as Tamlin was forced to hurt him. And as he sensed her arousal, he couldn't control the low growl that slipped from his lips. He was going to feel it; every moment of her fucking that Illyrian brute, and he'd have to stay silent because he knew she needed space, not an overbearing mate snapping at her not to do whatever she pleases... He entertained himself by imagining himself destroying Azriel, tearing his throat out with his teeth. His entire body heated up, and got up, realizing he'd burned his sheets to cinders. He couldn't endure this. He had to winnow away before he folded to his instincts and ripped Azriel's heart straight out of his chest. But then... He felt Elain's hurt and embarrassment, heard the murmured conversation and realized something had stopped them. Not something-someone. Lucien gripped his face so hard that it was miracle his skin didn't peel off. He'd wanted to kill Azriel for daring to touch Elain, and now he wanted to kill him even more for daring to hurt Elain's feelings without apologizing. He slipped out of his room, following the scent of the shadowsinger. Lucien's anger faded slightly, replaced by surprise at Rhysand scolding Azriel. Rhysand had always seemed as if he barely tolerated him, but perhaps this...meant he was warming up to him. "You believe you deserve to be her mate?" "I think Lucien will never be good enough for her, and she has no interest in him, anyway." Lucien laughed under his breath. He always knew that Azriel disliked him, but this was downright pathetic. Lucien had nothing and no one. He had a mate who avoided him at all costs, and even that Azriel wished to take from him. News flash, Azriel: Lucien might not be good enough for her, but neither was he. "I'll defeat him with little effort." Good lord, did he truly believe that? Did he forget that he fears fire? Did he forget the strength of a mated male's rage? Did he forget what Lucien had survived? "So you will leave Elain alone. If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, but stay away from her." Lucien bared his teeth in a feral smile, some savage part of him quelled thanks to Rhysand's interference. And that line...Lucien couldn't have said it better himself. How dare he treat Elain like a prostitute? No one understood the pain Lucien was in better than Rhysand himself. Perhaps, at last, he was beginning to sway the members of the Night Court to not treat him like dog shit. He tried not to think about Elain, resisting the urge to rush to Elain and make sure she's ok, to embrace her and kiss her troubles away. He'd endure this, just as he'd endured Beron, as he'd endured Amarantha, as he'd endured Tamlin, as he'd endured Ianthe, as he'd endured the Inner Circle.

[lanitalay]

Before I Say Goodnight

Chapter 10

a/n: Happy Monday!!!!! Word count: 4k

Warnings: none, crying as per usual

Other chapters

The last few days have been a blur. When you arrived at the Manor, your stomach was a bottomless pit. The possibility of returning home evaporated in a single second. The fight with Azriel is weighing heavy on your heart. That first night was spent looking at the sizzling hearth until the flames went out, the embers went cold and the sun came out. The second day was spent in bed, drifting between dreams of a life a world away and dreams of Azriel’s face as he watched you walk away. A box of your clothes was delivered by Cassian, you didn’t get out of bed to see him. The second night you managed about one hour of rest in between the fits of crying. You weren’t entirely sure why you were crying. It could have been because of the life that was taken from you, the enormous uncertainty that was your future or the fight with your closest friend here. The third day Jurian made you go with him to the nearby village to buy food for the house and do a check up on the recovery from the war with Hybern. He said you needed to get out of the house and that you looked and smelled like hell. That day you met Muriel, the local apothecary. Jurian brought you to her shop to find some herbs or a tonic or a salve or anything to get you to sleep. When Muriel saw the dark circles under your eyes, the greasiness of your hair and the bitten nails she quickly offered you tea. It was peppermint. It made you feel a little more alive, the liquid warming your cold hands and soothing your tattered heart. You breathed deep, savoring the fleeting moments of peace. “What’s wrong, darlin’?” She asked with a comforting twang that almost brought you to tears. Jurian put a hand on your back and said “she’s going through a difficult time and hasn’t slept in days. Do you have something that would help?” She nods “of course, I don’t have much in stock right now but I’ll give you enough for two nights, by then a new shipment would have arrived and I can dispatch more if you need” she searches for powders and dried leaves on her too full shelves and empties the containers into a small jar “dilute half of this mixture in warm water or milk thirty minutes before you want to fall asleep”. She hands you the jar “thank you” you say but it barely comes out as a whisper. “I can get something for your nails as well, help them get nice and healthy” you look at your hands, the nasty habit from childhood made a reappearance these past days. “I guess that could help” she quickly goes to another shelf and pulls out a tiny bottle “put this oil on all of your nails daily”. She tells Jurian to total and he gives her a few coins “I hope you feel better soon”.

That night you slept soundly. The following morning you got out of bed without having to be dragged out by one of the boys. You felt refreshed. The pit in your stomach still present but less daunting after a full night of sleep. When you walked into the kitchen Lucien’s eyes went wide “glad to see you up and cognizant” you rolled your eyes. “I slept well last night and actually feel like a person this morning” Jurian cuts Lucien off before he makes another remark “the tonic worked?” You nodded “like a charm”. 

After breakfast you had the house to yourself. Lucien was never really home during the day and Jurian had a meeting of sorts with one of the villages’ top blacksmiths. He had mentioned something about getting a decent blade. And Vassa was in her bird form. So you lingered in the kitchen, cleaned the mess from breakfast and had another cup of tea. This morning you missed coffee an extra bit. You were thinking of how there must be coffee plants somewhere in this world but they just haven’t been harvested properly or have not arrived to Prythian when someone knocked on the front door. Startled, you place a hand on your now hammering heart and think of what to do. No one should be home so you could just ignore it and hope they go away. But maybe it was Azriel or Cassian or even Mor. You calmed your breathing a bit and walk from the kitchen to the door. “You’re back” his voice was warm and familiar, almost jovial, but not quite. “Hello Eris, Lucien isn’t home” he didn’t look taken aback by your dry tone. Azriel’s dislike for the male rubbed off on you. “That’s a shame, I’ll just have to wait” he steps into the house before you can protest. “Was he expecting you?” He sits down on one of the sofas “can’t I visit my baby brother without an interrogation?” You huff and cross your arms. “How’s your foot?” Your eyes widen a bit at the memory, surprised he remembered. You look down and flex your toes within your boot and reply “it’s fine now”. “Are you always this enchanting to be around?” He sounds annoyed, you roll your eyes “you are free to leave and return when Lucien is actually here” and walk towards the library. You hear footsteps and are relieved for half a second until you realize he’s following you. “You know how to read?” How am I even supposed to answer that? “I do,” he hums, “impressive for a human”. You look through the shelves, hoping to find something entertaining. “This is a good one” does he ever shut up? He holds up a thin book “it’s an adventure novel, the protagonist flies across the world on a dragon”. You grab it from him and scan the pages. Eyes narrow at him, annoyed that he was kind of helpful “I didn’t know heirs have enough free time to read fiction”. He answers matter of fact “in the centuries I’ve been alive I’ve managed to carve out time to read”. You forget that. These beings are so much older than you’ll ever be. “I guess” you reluctantly concede. 

The rest of the day was spent reading the novel and ignoring Eris. He left shortly after Lucien arrived, their private conversation was brief and, by the looks of it, unremarkable . You wondered why he waited for hours just for that. In a way, it was good Eris had shown up. You never had any time to go into a spiral because by the time he left everybody was home again. “How was your day?” Vassa asked you sweetly. “It was alright, better than the last few” she grinned at that. 

You  used the last of the tonic and slept until the clattering of pots and pans woke you.

“I need to return to the village today” Jurian raises an eyebrow at you. “For the tonic” his features relax, remembering “that’s right, think you can go by yourself? I have to go to the ports today” you think for a moment “I guess, can I take one of the horses?” He nods “take Lucien’s”.

You take a deep breath. The only times you’d been by yourself in this world had never ended well. Just follow the path and you’ll be fine. You repeat the affirmation to yourself all the way to the village. 

The apothecary shop was empty, as it had been the last time you’d been here. But Muriel was there and she smiled when you stepped in. “Hello” you greet “You’re lookin’ so much better darlin’” she was excited. You nod and offer her the best smile you can muster “the tonic worked wonders, do you have any more?” She put her hands at her hips and nods “I sure do, but it’ll take me a while to get everythin’ ready” she walks to the restocked shelves “the girl that usually helps me got married last week and I have about twenty orders I’m behind on”. Her nimble hands pick small leaves of oregano off the stem and drop them into a mortar and pestle. She grinds the leaves with a memorized rhythm, you stare and get lost in the perfectly rehearsed movements. You speak before you really think about what you’re about to say “I can help, if you’d like. I could use something to do during the day” and a marketable skill if you are to stay in this world. Muriel takes you in, and maybe it’s because of pity or necessity but she says “alright, you can make your own sleep powder, grab another mortar and pestle and grind a handful of these flowers” she points at the equipment and the ingredients simultaneously and you immediately get to work. 

It’s almost dark when Muriel finally announces that it’s time to close the shop for the day. Your hands were sore from grinding flowers and herbs and salts. You smelled of the incense she kept burning. Your eyes felt heavy, it had been a very long day. But you felt lighter than you had in a month, maybe in a year. The scents of the shop were warm and soothing. Muriel reminded you of your grandmother, she had crinkles around her eyes and gray hairs sprinkled through her long brown curls. “Can I come back tomorrow?” You asked, hoping she’d say yes “well, of course. You were very helpful today” you stop yourself before you crush her in a hug, her kindness bringing back to life a part of yourself that had long been dormant and say “see you then”. 

“Where have you been all day?” You smile at Lucien “I got a job, I’ll need your horse to get into town everyday” he looks even more confused now. “What are you talking about?” You hop off the saddle and skip towards him “I’m helping Muriel at the apothecary shop, look” and you pull out a jar with the sleep powder “I made this myself, she says I’m a natural”. Lucien can’t deny that it brings him joy seeing you excited about something. “I’ll need my horse some days, but I’m happy for you” he says and pats you on the shoulder. 

“I can’t afford to pay you much more than a few coppers a week” Muriel says the next morning “it’s ok, I really just want to learn”. She nods and the day progresses like the last. Grinding, mixing, packaging and handing out orders. In the flow of routine and monotony you got lost. There, your sole focus was the tasks at hand and gleaning any information you could from Muriel. You didn’t think about your world, your family, your friends, Azriel… nothing that wasn’t in the shop mattered and you were glad. 

A week. 

Two weeks.

Three weeks passed in the same routine. It was peaceful. Breakfast with the boys, then you’d ride into town and work with Muriel until sunset, by the time you reached the Manor it was dinner time and you’d stuff your face and pass out until the next day. Then you’d do it over again. “Tomorrow the shop won't be opening, I’m visiting my sister” Muriel told you as you were cleaning the tools you’d used during the day “so take a break and rest, we’ll be back the day after”. You deflated a bit, the distraction of the routine was your lifeline to sanity “oh, alright, have a nice visit with your sister” she smiled “I will, I haven’t seen her in months. Her daughter had a baby and she’s been fussin’ over them so much I haven’t seen her since” she chuckles. Your chest tightens a bit, a reminder of what you didn’t have anymore. 

The next morning was the same up until everyone left. The empty house felt extra big. You were washing clothes when you heard a knock. Sighing, you get up and open the door. “You should know by now that Lucien isn’t here during the day” you say as Eris stands in front of you. “Maybe I’m not here for Lucien” you step away to let him inside “then why are you here?” Eris walks in but remains standing “I come here when I need a break from my father” he inspects the sitting room “are you the servant?” You suppose no one has ever told him who you really are “I’m … Jurian’s friend” he puts his hands in his pockets “I see” you jump when another knock rattles the door “expecting company?” Eris asks “no” , you respond and open the door for the second time today. Your breath catches in your throat as you see a dark looming figure on the steps. 

“Az?” He’s standing with his hands behind his back but his shadows engulf you as if saying hi to an old friend. You giggle a bit as they gently caress your face. “Y/n” he breathes, like he’s surprised to see you “you look,” he scans you “you look good” you nod “I feel good”. He sags a bit, you’re not sure why, but continues “I’m glad” you shift on your feet “want to come inside?” He shakes his head “I’m actually on my way to an assignment but I wanted to make sure you were fine, Lucien said you were. I just had to see for myself” you nod “I’m better” a pause. A breath “Az I’m sorry for calling you an ass” he smiles at that “I’m sorry for saying all that I said, it was your decision and I was overstepping” another pause “I want you to come to the Night Court for Solstice” he blurts. Your brows raise “oh, I’d love to. When is it?” His cheeks are a little pink, you suppose it’s from the cold “in a few weeks, Lucien is also going. You can winnow with him or I can fly you but I think winnowing is more comfortable in the dead of winter”. You smile lightly, “alright Az, I’ll see you then”. He returns the smile and steps away and lunges to the air. 

“How do you know the Shadowsinger that intimately?” You press your back to the door, heart beating wildly and you’re sure your face is beet red. “You’re not the only one that comes to visit, Eris” he clutches his chest “and I thought what we had was special” and pouts. “It’s like you have a sixth sense for when I’m home alone. Got a little crush?” He scoffs, and you swear you can see his lips straining to lift. “It’s ok if you do, I’m incredibly charming. Not to mention beautiful”. “Humans are not my type” you shrug and wink at him before returning to your room and your chores. 

Washing your skirts, shirts, sweaters and leggings was therapeutic in its own way. The rhythmic scrubbing against the board, the sound of water splashing and sloshing, the suds tickling your forearms and the floral scent of the detergent was enough to ease your mind and keep the ever present panic at bay. When you were done, you returned down stairs and hung the clothes outside. Winter was closer now, but you were hopeful that the first frost of the season would wait until after your clothes were dry. “Are you going to eat?” You jump and clutch at your chest, having forgotten that Eris was here. At his question your stomach grumbles. It must be past midday then. “I could eat”. 

You split a loaf of bread and some soft cheese with Eris. He was not pleased by the rudimentary meal but ate, nonetheless. “Where are you from?” You choke a bit. Not knowing how to answer. “Uhm, I’m from the Southern Continent”. In the first books Jurian showed you there were maps of the world, and a southern continent twice as far as the Continent to the east seemed like a good place to lie about. From what you gathered, Prythian and the other lands North of it had very little knowledge of it, only some stories from explorers or merchants brave enough to face the tempestuous ocean that separated it. He looks surprised “and how did you end up here?” You want to groan, but instead say “oh you know… this and that. There was a boat and a storm and now I’m here” you look at the bread and cheese, making a little sandwich while Eris stares at you. You’re certain he doesn’t believe a word. But you don’t trust him enough to tell the truth, given your involvement with the Night Court and their tumultuous relations with Autumn. “Very convincing story, y/n” you still don’t look at him and are saved from further questioning when Lucien walks through the door.  

The next few weeks fly by. The shop is organized and running smoothly now that you and Muriel have settled on an effective routine. Life with the exiles was as calm as it could be. The occasional discussion between Jurian and Vassa kept things interesting and on some nights you’d sit by the hearth and share stories of your very different lives.

The day before Solstice Lucien winnowed the two of you to Velaris. You had been nervous to see the Inner Circle, namely Rhysand, but not enough to stay away. You had never talked to Lucien about Elain, but you guess that part of the reason why he makes the trip back for the holiday is to see her. And also why both of you are tight lipped and visibly uncomfortable when Feyre opens the door to the River House. 

“Lucien, y/n! I’m so happy you made it!” she exclaims while stepping aside to let you in. You were shaking now, the light coat that kept you more than warm in the Human Lands not nearly thick enough for the Night Court winter. Inside the house is toasty warm though and the smell of something sweet permeates the air. Feyre hugs Lucien and then he leaves, you assume that he’s going to look for Elain. “Thanks for having me,” you tell her, “of course, it has been too long since we’ve seen you” at that her eyes soften, remembering why you haven’t been around. “I’m sorry the portal didn’t work, I believe Gwyn is still working on figuring out what happened”. You shrug “it was difficult to accept at first but now I’m doing better” she brightens “Lucien said you had been working at the apothecary?” You smile and nod “yes, I’ve been learning a lot and getting my hands dirty. I could see myself staying there for a while” she wraps her arm around your shoulders and leads to the main sitting room “I’m glad, y/n. But remember you are always welcome here, Velaris needs apothecaries as well” and nudges you playfully. You laugh. 

Everyone is here: Nesta, Cassian, Rhysand, Elain, Mor, Amren, Gwyn, Nyx and Azriel. Your heart stops when you see him. You say hello to everyone and make a mental note to thank Cassian and Nesta for the box of clothes before you leave again. He stands pin straight as he watches you approach. “Hi” you say, the corners or your mouth perking up as you finish the word. He smiles too “I’m happy you’re here”. You’re about to say something when Mor shouts “everybody better have wine!” After that the night is a blur. 

The pounding in your head reminds you why you haven’t had wine since girls night. A cacophony of groans engulfs the room as banging noises come from the kitchen. You go to place your hands over your ears but something warm and heavy is draped across your middle. You turn your head and see that Lucien is spooning you. Oh god. You turn to look at the other sofa and see Nesta and Gwyn in the same cuddle. Mor is in a fetal position on the floor. What the hell happened.  More banging echoes and you throw Lucien’s arm off you and cover your ears. He wakes up when his hand slaps his face and curses. You push yourself off the sofa and go into the kitchen. Nyx has made an instrument out of a pot and a metal spoon. He laughs when he sees you walk in. I must look like a goblin. “Look Nyxie, one of the sleepy heads is awake” you rub your eyes “his little concert is difficult to sleep through” Feyre picks him up and gives you an apologetic look. “Looks like you all kept the party going after we went to bed” you sit at the kitchen table and rest your head on your hands “I guess we did, but I don’t remember a thing”.  One by one the others join you in your misery at the table. “Where are Azriel, Cassiand and Rhysand?” you ask as breakfast appears. Mor replies “annual snowball fight” like it’s common knowledge, but you are not that curious ask for clarification so you have breakfast and hope you don’t throw up. 

You spend the next few hours sleeping and then getting ready for the actual Solstice celebrations. You had brought your purple long sleeved dress for the occasion, your nicest dress by far. By nightfall everyone was all together again and dressed to the nines. You couldn’t help but notice how good Azriel looked. His hair had grown in the weeks you hadn’t been here. His curls frame his face and give him a boyish look. He wore an all black outfit, the only color from his siphons. He looked at ease, his usual stiffness gone in the comfort of his family. You notice you are staring and look away. “He’s been looking at you all night too” Lucien whispers in your ear. You blush and pick at invisible lint on your dress “shut up”. The group starts exchanging gifts and you watch with amusement as everyone opens Mor’s presents gingerly. You had been warned about her handicap when it came to gift giving. Then the wine starts flowing again. You opt out tonight, wanting to avoid a major hangover, possibly death.

It’s a few hours after midnight when everyone has either gone to bed or passed out. You place blankets over the few that remained on the sofas and floor. Then move to the kitchen and look for cookies. “Smart of you to sit this one out” you jump a little when you hear Azriel’s voice. “I thought you’d be out until morning” he shrugged “I just needed a power nap, I’m as good as new”. You hummed, finding the cookie jar. “Here” you hand Azriel a cookie. You sit in silence for a bit until he says “I got you a present” and he takes a small box out of his jacket pocket. “Oh Az, you didn’t have to do that. I didn’t get anything for you” he shakes his head and pushes the box in front of you “open it”. You wipe your hands on a napkin and begin unwrapping it carefully. You frown, inside the box is your phone. You look at him quizzically, he smiles “turn it on”. You gasp when you press the button and the screen comes to life, a picture of your dog staring back at you. Your eyes well up. “How is this even possible?” He smiles “I don’t know exactly, I took it to the same tinkerer that made Lucien's mechanical eye and they took care of it”. You look from the screen towards him. Tears falling freely now. You set it down on the counter and walk over to him, wrapping  your arms around him in the strongest hug you could muster. “Thank you so much, Az” his arms come to your waist and he hugs you back. You know he can feel your heart beating wildly in that moment, because you can feel his.

taglist: @luvmoo

[acourtofthought]

I want someone to provide me canon text as to why Elain "can't stand being near Lucien" and how that proves she doesn't find him attractive.

Does she ignore him as of the novella and SF? Yes but so did Nesta when it came to Cassian:

There were layered and complex reasons for why Nesta ignored Cassian at various points throughout the series regardless of her attraction to him so why couldn't there also be layered and complex reasons for Elain in regards to Lucien?

If your answer is "because she doesn't want a mate" then doesn't canon text also support a female main character changing her mind on that?

This:

To this:

So how does anyone know with 100% certainty that Elain has zero sexual attraction to Lucien just because she ignores him at this point in the series, a change from what happened between them in ACOWAR:

Feyre cringed at the sound of Rhys's name after she had fallen for him:

Cringed at his name after running away from him after he was wounded once she found out they were mates.

We saw these moments despite the fact that Rhys was the most beautiful man Feyre had ever seen:

Elain doesn't have to want to interact with Lucien to be sexually attracted to him, correct? There are many people I find extremely good looking who I'll never interact with because I'm not in a position to pursue them. If she is sexually attracted to him she might not want to act upon it if she's not in the frame of mind for something more meaningful which sex with a known mate would most likely be. Even without having fallen in love a confirmed bond is a bridge to anothers soul and that's a lot more than just sex. Her not wanting more right now makes sense after her broken engagement, her not wanting a mate for that same reason at this point in the series does too though it's something that could easily change in the span of 800+ pages.

Hooking up with Lucien would come with much more intensity than hooking up with a random guy she sees from time to time and who she doesn't share a bond with.

It's canon Elain found Az attractive but we have no proof she found him better looking than Graysen, that he's anything special to her at all, that hooking up with him would have meant anything at all.

And while it's canon she wanted to hook up with Az we don't have the reasons behind it, whether a night of fun, proving to Nesta that she too can go off and fuck strangers or her simply trying to forget the emotions she might feel when her mate is around.

I can't prove with certainty that is the case but the other side can't prove it isn't therefore it's still on the table.

In SF it became canon that Nesta found Cassian appealing from the start though she did not give in to her sexual desires for him until her book.

So again where is this canon text that proves we can't see the same for Elain in regards to Lucien?

[fever-fluff]

Part I - Quick as a Fox

word count: 2.3k (not proof read)

will contain spoilers for the ACOTAR series

“What could Rhysand possibly need that would be out here, Shadowsinger.” Lucien’s voice was thick with disdain, swatting another branch from the thick brush they walked through.

“Scared of getting you breeches a little dirty, Lucien? Doesn’t seem like you do well in the dirt.” Azriel’s sneer was no better, and the innuendo about Elain did not fly past Lucien so easily.

“Believe me, its not the first time I’ve gotten it on my knees, maybe you’d like to hear all about my time in the garden last week-” Lucien was quick to block the fist aiming for his gut, but it threw him off balance all the same, soft ground beneath him not much to grip.

Azriel came at him again, “Shut your filthy mouth, Vanserra.” Lucien just laughed at the male’s brazen behaviour towards the female he’d tried to snatch for himself. It had been months now since the last solstice, and the catastrophe of the necklace had caused a rift between Azriel and Elain that Lucien had, without regret, used to his advantage. Elain was mated to him, and he’d agreed to Rhys’ wish of not inciting a blood rite  over the shadowsingers obvious display of disrespect.

He had not pushed Elain in the slightest with his affections, but he had made it clear they were there. And after finding a bitterness under all that façade of sweet, Lucien had coaxed it out. It turned out she had more in common with Nesta than they’d all first thought, and he relished in the fire when she let it out.

The two tumbled as they fought, both to engrossed in getting another blow to the others face when they stumbled down a concealed ridge. They had separated just as the reached the bottom, and went to got at it again until Lucien noticed what they’d fallen into.

“Mother above”

Azriel looked to what was behind him, sucking in a breath and the grove of statues they’d landed in. “What the damned is this place?” walking around, the two noticed now that they were not statues, but petrified bodies of fae of all kinds. Lucien stopped in front of a certain one, loosing a shudder as he recognised the face in front of him. “I can’t be…”

Azriel joined his side, analysing the kneeling figure in from of him. The arms were twisted as if two fae had hold of her while the magic took effect. A sneer crossed her features, and he felt a shiver as he though of what it might have looked like in flesh. There was pure hatred in those eyes, and the snarl of her lips was something that he’d only seen on the most animalistic of his kind. Though she looked to be high fae, with pointed sharp ears, her demeanour was something he’d place in a wild beast.

“We need to free her.” “Are you mad?!” Lucien had already turned and began sifting through his sack, pulling viles as he went. “Lucien, who the Hel is she?!” he started mixing different liquids together, the mixture turning all different shades of different colours too quick for Azriel to catch.

“Someone who may be able to help.” “Hah…?”

Before Azriel could stop him, Lucien poured the new potion on to the top of the statue, and waited as it took effect. It was a simple reversal but depending on the depth of the initial fae's magic when she had been petrified, the time to undo the curse was debatable.

So they sat a respectable distance apart, and watched the statue like hawks. The sun had started to dip in the sky by the time they noticed the stone slowly shift, and a pale complexion took its place. Her chest began to slowly rise and fall, and a flutter of her eyelids became stronger as the hours passed on.

The moon had taken its place in the sky, and both males had drifted off into the land of the unconscious until they heard harsh coughing. The statue, now skin, moved achingly while the faes body returned to normal. Lucien cautiously moved towards her with a canister of water, “Fox, its alright, we’re not here to harm you...” The slap of the canister from Lucien’s hand was quick and strong, too strong for someone who had atrophied for mother only knows how long now. What was even more miraculous was the speed she moved towards the brush to their right, finding a small stream to gulp out of heavily. Azriel made to move on her, but Lucien held his hand up as a signal to wait, “don’t spook her, unless you don’t like having limbs anymore.”

Once she’d had her fill, she turned her eyes to the two of them, and he could have sworn they flickered between a serpent’s slits to the fae oval. As she spoke, her voice cracked from years of disuse, but he could hear the power she could wield it with, “I suggest you both start talking before you have no more tongues to do so.”

Azriel’s responding growl was low, truth-teller now grasped in his hand as he etched closer to her, “you shouldn’t make threats you can’t follow through on, bitch. In your state, this is going to go only one way. With your throat at my bla-”

Too fast. Way too fast for someone only after waking from such a long prison did the woman lunge for Azriel, snapping at his wrist with both hands and knocking the knife from his hand. He didn’t have time to reach for another as her body morphed, twisting into muscle and scales, wrapping round his body and wings and tightening instantly. She’d wrapped the latter half of her body round him like a snake, leaving her upper body in the fae state and sneered when he choked for air as she squeezed, “what was that? Sorry, I cant hear you over your own spit.”

“Fox, let him go, please.” Lucien had backed up, hands in surrender. Her gaze moved to him, and the recognition that lanced through her eyes did nothing to ease the grip she had on Azriel’s body. “I never thought I’d see a child of autumn beg for the life of an Illyrian.”

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know. But the High Lord of Night won’t take it well if you kill his spymaster on my watch.” Finally, she eased herself off, and Aziel gasped for the precious air he’d missed. She’d put a reasonable amount of distance between them all, still on guard with how the serpentine part of her body coiled like a spring. Once he’d finally reached his feet again, she started looking for answers, “How long have I been asleep? How do you know who I am?”

“If my brother’s words are something to go off of, half a century, maybe more.” Lucien flashed her that goddamned smile, “I’m Lucien, Beron’s youngest son.”

That didn’t seem to placate her like he’d hoped, and Lucien wasn’t quick enough to move away from her attack. Talons retched from her fingernails, and she had him in her grip before he even had a chance to realise. “I suggest you keep his name out of your mouth, child, before I really do rip out your tongue.”

“He’s telling the truth, he’s a Vanserra.” Azriel wouldn’t make it in time to stop her if she made for his neck. She snorted, “And what makes you think I would believe a word that comes out of your mouth, Shadowsinger.” Shit, she’d caught on to his shadows. He pulled them back from the two, holding up his hands in the fashion Lucien had before. “You know who I am?”

“Everyone knows the little toy the High Lord of Night uses in his arsenal of weapons, though congrats on the promotion. Spymaster seems fitting for your type of… constitution.”

She’s turned her attention back to the redhead lying beneath her, “If you are telling the truth, my lord won’t be too happy if I slit this lovely, tanned neck of yours. So, I suggest you both stay where you are until I am far enough away to not turn back and change my mind.”

“wha-”

She was gone before the two could blink.

“What in gods damned was that, Lucien?!” Azriel’s anger was far beyond livid. But the autumn male simply stood, rubbing at his neck, still feeling the ghost of her claws on his skin.

“Her name’s fox. She’s been missing since before the war. One of the most dangerous fae Beron ever had under his control. He used to tell me stories of her, to scare me into going to bed.”

“And you didn’t think waking her would be a bad idea, considering she has no clue who you are?!” Lucien winced under his tone, “I thought she’d smell that we were related, nothing gets past her senses. But I suppose I really didn’t think…”

“Rhysand is gonna be pissed, you realise this?” Azriel started to pace. If they really had released something like that with no safeguards, nothing to stop her from returning to Autumn, they could be in for a lot more trouble with Beron than they first expected.

“Yea, I know.” The two made to go back to Velaris, winnowing silently.

Quick. Quick as a fox. You need to be fast, faster than anything that might catch you. His voice rang in your ears as you sprinted through the thicket, four paws pushing silently off the ground at each lurch of your body. Come on, fox. I know you’re faster than that. The hounds are going to rip you to shreds if they catch you, I wont hold them back. Gods, you needed to run. If you were still in the grove, that meant you were only one court away from Autumn, the winter court.

Sure enough, a border of ice and snow came into view, and the fur you wore changed from the fire red of his hair to the white of winter. They’d never feel you breach the border; animals came and went as seasons changed, even in the eternal courts. And your winter body would blend you into one of them long enough for you to pass through unnoticed. You’d run, run as fast as you could until you reached him.

Five hundred years you haven’t been watching from the shadows. Watching and waiting. You knew the day they took you he wouldn’t look for you. You had failed him, had gotten caught. You are my fox, quick and sly. But if you get caught in a snare, there will be nothing I can do to stop the hunters from claiming their game.

Hours had passed until you reached the land of Autumn, and your body returned to the red that you never forgot in your imprisonment. It was all you could remember of him, that and his cruel disposition. You had forgotten his eyes, but never the feeling as they landed on you with cold contempt.

You made for the cabin on the base of the mountains. You knew he’d keep it warded. And all you had to do was cross the threshold and he’d come for you.

Being encased in that stone should have turned you mad, but the hot anger you had been laced with for the change had kept you burning with sanity. You would be no good to him if you’d freed yourself and come back with no wits. So it had burned, for year upon year, until the red head idiot decided he knew who you were and released you.

He hadn’t smelt like Beron, you’d checked. Lady of Autumn, sure, but Beron was no where in his blood. You wondered what happened there.

The cabin was in sight when you felt your legs give out. Shifting back, you wobbled on fae legs to the front of the porch. But you couldn’t sit. If he came and couldn’t remember you, you’d have to make fast work at fleeing before he decided you were a threat to his oasis.

It didn’t take long for the beating of hooves and the pounding of paws to reach your ears. Light flickered in the distance, one lone torch among the forest of orange and yellow.

Standing steady, you raised your head as the face you’d forgotten became clear. Gods, now that it was in front of you again, you realised it had never left you. It haunted your dreams, your nightmares, and every waking moment you sat kneeling in that grove. You'd only forgotten that it was real, and not a figment of your trapped mind.

Nothing was said as the hounds came charging, ready to tear whatever decided to breach their master’s property. But the wave of scent you let wash over you had them stopping in their tracks. Now unsure of whether you were truly the threat they were first ordered to rid.

“State your business, before I am no longer lenient with my dogs’ lag.” He voice sounded harder than you could think to remember. You hated it, wondering what he'd done in the time you were gone to sound like that. But you bowed deep, knee hitting the wood beneath you in reverence, “my lord.”

You didn’t dare lift your head, couldn’t bear it if you looked up and saw nothing of recognition in his eyes. But the sharp inhale, small enough that only you would ever hear it, loosed the fear filling your chest. “Fox?” you smiled.

“It’s been a long time, Eris.”

[withclawandvine]

GOT LOVESTRUCK, WENT STRAIGHT TO MY HEAD — the wrong place at the right time

summary: Elain was supposed to be in paradise with her fiancè, not alone at an airport bar, held hostage by a storm. Lucien was only supposed to be in Las Vegas for a few days on business, before flying back home on the Vanserra jet. They weren’t supposed to meet, but fate is funny like that.

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59610724/chapters/152036788

author’s note: happy @elucienweekofficial !!! i had SO MUCH FUN writing this one. it’s all a modern au, obviously, but the other prompts are woven in! i had every intention of posting a chapter per day(ish) this week, but i went to the george r.r. martin school of writing, so…. that didn’t happen lmao but here’s the first of the planned five parts to get the ball rolling !!

The moment the wheels of the 757 traveling south from San Francisco to Las Vegas touched down, the sky split open, unleashing a seasonal monsoon with wind speeds and torrential rainfall surpassing any other that year.

Most people would consider it a stroke of good luck — a small miracle, even — that plane hadn’t been struck from the sky by a bolt of lightning.

Elain Archeron knew better.

She knew this storm was just one more incident in the chain of mishaps shackled to this vacation.

First, there was Graysen unceremoniously breaking their engagement two months ago, leaving Elain with a voluminous white gown taking up all the room in her closet, a box of unaddressed invitations collecting dust, and a nonrefundable booking for an all-inclusive luxe resort in St. Barts — the Christmas gift Gray had insisted she take for herself and a friend, all with that heavy dose of that new money condescension he was so versed in.

If she’d been smart, Elain would have given the tickets to the retired couple next door, but instead, she’d called Feyre.

Her little sister had suffered her own heartbreak earlier in the year, and although she pretended to be over it, Elain knew she was still reeling. Tamlin would have never let Feyre leave the country without him. Or, more accurately, Tamlin wouldn’t have let Feyre leave the backyard without him.

So it felt exceptionally cruel when Ferye called, voice weak and miserable, to tell Elain she had food poisoning and wouldn’t be able to make the trip. Hell, she’d lamented. I’ll be lucky if I make it out of the bathroom anytime soon.

With her plane departing in a few hours, Elain knew her only choice was to either call the whole thing off, or go it alone.

She enjoyed solitude; she liked gardening alone, and was a lunchtime regular at the little cafe down the street. But in the weeks since moving out of Graysen’s townhouse, she’d been spending most of her time confined to her new apartment, and if it went on for much longer, she’d evolve into a Gothic heroine.

She knew she needed a change of scenery, lest she start clawing at the wallpaper.

A man taking a sharp corner without looking up from his phone narrowly avoided a head-on collision with Elain; instead, he clipped her suitcase, wrenching it from her hand. It clung to the stranger’s carryon for a few paces, then dropped to the floor.

Before it could get swept up by the chaotic and restless crowd, Elain snatched the handle of her suitcase and righted it. The bag wobbled, then settled crookedly to the right. Within seconds of realizing he small, black wheel on the ground near it did in fact belong to her luggage, someone’s foot sent it skittering over the tile.

Elain watched it pinball out of sight, unable to contain her sharp, deranged laugh.

Just like that, the trip had gone from unfortunate to downright cursed — that little wheel was no mere inconvenience. It was an omen, just as powerful as any broken mirror or bolt of lightning. Clearly, the universe was trying to tell her that a hurricane was foredoomed to materialize on the first day of her stay, and wash her away by the third. Or that the long-inactive volcano would spontaneously erupt. Perhaps the plane would evanesce into the Bermuda Triangle.

She should have stayed home. She wanted to go home. Spend the next ten days of her hard-won PTO rewatching Bridgerton. Make a batch of her famous death-by-chocolate brownies and an espresso martini. Get petty satisfaction out of knowing how much of Graysen’s money was being wasted.

But as it was, Elain wasn’t on her way to an island or her Bay Area apartment; there was only one place she could go right now.

She all but stomped, her suitcase limping awkwardly behind her, in the direction of the nearest bar.

Elain collapsed onto a barstool and ordered something sweet, tropical, and strong. The bartender looked annoyed by her lack of specificity, but had the good grace not to say anything about it as he shook up then presented her with a mango mojito with an extra shot of rum.

Elain closed her eyes and took a sip, imagining she was basking in the sun as the tide lapped at her brightly-pedicured toes.

Her conjured serenity dissipated when she felt someone settle into the stool beside her.

A man in a perfectly tailored suit flagged the bartender. It was the kind of suit that spoke of money and importance — the kind of suit that ordered top-shelf whiskey, neat.

So Elain couldn’t help but look to him in surprise when he said, “I’ll have whatever she’s having.”

Sensing her attention, he turned his head to flash her an easy smile, shrugging as if to say What about it?

He was captivating; his sharp suit so at odds with his long hair, tied back in a way that was almost thoughtless. Artfully messy, with a few loose strands framing a face made up of pointed features that screamed mischief. A scar, now faint with age, was carved into the left side of his face from brow to jaw, pulling slightly at the corner of his mouth. That mouth — the only soft part of his face.

Elain watched him take a hearty drink of his cocktail.

“That’s fucking delightful.” He said this to Elain as if she’d been the one to make it for him, not just put the idea in his head by sipping on her own. To the bartender, he said, “We’ll need two more of these, please.”

She blinked at him. “We?”

“What?” His smile was a little lopsided and a lot teasing. “Do you have somewhere else to be?”

When Elain gave the waiting bartender a thumbs-up, the man’s smile grew.

God, he needed to keep that thing in check.

He extended a hand. “I’m Lucien.”

She took it, letting his fingers engulf hers. “Elain.”

He repeated her name to himself softly and fondly, like they do in the movies.

“Well, Elain, where are you supposed to be right now? Assuming a bar in the Las Vegas airport wasn’t your final destination.”

Maybe it was that second mojito, but telling Lucien the story about Graysen dumping her within weeks of their big, romantic getaway, and months of their wedding was surprisingly easy.

“So yeah,” she shrugged, stirring the melting ice and crushed mint around the glass with her straw. “Here we are.”

“Here we are,” Lucien agreed, pushing a water she didn’t even notice him ordering at her.

“What about you? Were you in town for business or pleasure?”

“First it was business.” He flashed her a secretive smile, “Now it’s a pleasure.”

“Well, it must have been one nightmare of a business trip if this is your —”

Elain’s phone buzzed on the counter.

ATTN: Flight MAF608 LAS to MIA has been POSTPONED until 6:00 AM PST. For more information, reply HELP

Elain set her phone back down, then, without uttering a word, slid the water away, giving herself enough room to let her forehead fall to the countertop with a dull, defeated thud.

“Everything alright?”

She turned her head enough to look at Lucien with one eye. “I am going to die in this airport.”

He picked her phone up. “You’re going to die in the next…” he squinted at the screen, “ten hours?”

“If I’m lucky,” she grumbled, “it’ll be in the next two.”

Lucien’s laugh was rich and bright. Elain wanted to be annoyed at him for laughing at her misery, but the sound was so perfectly joyous, she could only manage a half-hearted pout.

“You’re laughing,” she said. “I’m going to spend the night on this barstool and you’re laughing.”

A prospect that still somehow seemed more dignified than calling Graysen to ask for money to cover a night in a hotel. The only reason she could go on this trip in the first place was because of his fancy tech job and guilty conscience.

“The business I was in town for,” Lucien said, making a show of snuffing out his laughter and becoming serious. “It was with a hotel on the Strip that my family does business with. I can make arrangements for you to stay there.”

Elain smiled, even as she shook her head. “I appreciate the offer, but —”

“Please,” he insisted, sweeping up her tab with his own, and placing a black Amex on top. “It would be no trouble at all.”