#russet's spring break

[prythianpages]

Too Good To Be True | Lucien x Reader

...you're just too good to be true...can't take my eyes off of you...

summary: in which your newest muse catches you red handed.

word count: 1,600

a/n: I do struggle writing Lucien but I had seen this tiktok and wanted to write a meet-cute over it and when I saw this fanart above made by IG user kri_stasss_, I took this as a sign lol. I also listened to the song can't take my eyes off of you like 100x while writing this.

With a sigh, you lean back into your seat, allowing your eyes a break. You had been sitting at the corner of the bustling cafe for over an hour, choosing to surround yourself with Velaris’s warmth and the smell of coffee in the hopes to finally draw something.  But your sketchbook is spread open on the table with a half-finished drawing.

You look at the view before you, the Sidra River shimmering like pure sapphire under the sun’s gaze. The leaves of surrounding trees rustling gently in the soft spring breeze and flowers vibrant hues adorn the riverwalk. It’s a beautiful sight–one that many stop and admire. Yet, it is not enough to fuel the inspiration you so desperately need.

The flowing water and distant laughter of children blend into a soothing symphony as you absentmindedly twirl your pencil between your fingers, thoughts drifting. Send me a muse, you plead to the Cauldron, yearning to feel that thrill again.That spark that ignites your passion of drawing. The very one that moves your hand effortlessly across the paper.

The sound of iron against pavement startles you, pulling you from your thoughts. You blink your eyes back into focus and instinctively, they land on the source of the noise. The table diagonal from you, that had been vacant for the past hour, now has an occupant. An occupant who is blocking your view of the Sidra River, the very one that is half drawn across your sketchbook.

But you can’t bring yourself to complain.

Not when there is a man of striking beauty seated there. 

His mere presence commands your attention, his red hair catching the sunlight and gleaming like fire. You feel your breath catch in your throat as your eyes trace the elegant lines of his face. Brutal scars mar the left side of his face–from his brow all the way down to his jaw. 

Despite this, the male is devastatingly handsome. Ethereal. 

Too good to be true, you think, finding yourself captivated by his eyes. His right eye, whole and russet-colored, holds a depth that draws you in. But his left eye…His left eye is a mechanical marvel, golden and intricate, and gleaming with an otherworldly light.  

And suddenly, you’re overwhelmed with an urge to touch him. To reassure yourself that he is real and not just a figment of your imagination. Gods, with a face and built body like his, he’d be heaven to touch…

A rush of excitement floods your veins and you feel a familiar thrill coursing through you. Your hands are turning the pages of your sketchbook until a blank page sits before you. And before you know it, you’re pouring your awe and fascination into each stroke of your pencil. Your eyes flicker up and down as you commit the details to mind, heart pounding every time with the fear of being caught. 

Though you're cautious about it, you’re too lost in his eyes to catch the way the male’s lips curve slightly upwards.

**

Lucien takes the last sip of his coffee, admiring the sight before him. The sun is beginning to set, painting the sky in twilight hues and dancing across the Sidra River. Along the riverwalk, Fae stroll leisurely. Couples walk hand in hand, children skipping along the cobblestone path, pausing to catch the fireflies that are now visible in the dimming light.

Velaris was proving to be more beautiful with each passing day—a sight he’d never expected from a place like the Night Court. All his life, he had only come to know the Court of Nightmares. A place that truly lived up to his name. And though there were children laughing and running freely, he couldn’t help but still be wary of the City of Starlight. It was still part of the Night Court, after all.

His eyes scan along the riverwalk, golden eye making a soft sound as it moves, in search of something. Or rather, someone. Just as a frown is about to settle on his face, he finds what he was searching for. The reason why he was at this cafe…despite the fact that the best espresso in town was at a little coffee shop in the Rainbow of Velaris.

You.

You are sitting at a bench, knees drawn up and a sketchbook nestled onto your lap. As the sun continues to make its descent, the street lamp near you croaks to life. It bathes you in its soft glow and he is able to appreciate the slight furrow of your brow, the slight way your lips purse in concentration. He wants to know what you're drawing.

Ever since he caught you staring at him at this very cafe, he had an inkling as to what may be hidden within those pages of your sketchbook. He had meant to approach you about it but you had been so into your sketch, he found the sight endearing and feared disrupting you. 

So he had left you to it and showed up to the cafe the next day at the same time in the hopes of seeing you again and he did. That time, your gazes had met and though it had been brief, it felt everlasting. He remembers the way your cheeks tinted with blush before you turned your head away, flustered at being caught. If only you had seen the way he had smiled softly to himself afterwards.

It’s been days since that incident. Though he didn’t find you in that same spot the day after, he came to the conclusion that this was your favorite area to frequent in Velaris. It slowly became his too, his eyes always finding you amongst the busy riverwalk. 

Lucien had never been the shy type–at least, not when it came to pursuing people he was interested in. He had just been waiting for the right time–for the right moment to talk to you. And as you closed your sketchbook with a light exhale, his heart fluttered as he realized what better time than now.

**

Calling it a night, you close your sketchbook with a soft sigh. The sun had been replaced by the moon and the street lamp’s light was too dim for your liking to continue you drawing. You feared messing up what you had meticulously spent hours on. As you rise from the bench and turn to make your way back home, you bump into a smaller frame than yours, the sketchbook in your hold falling from your grasp.

“Sorry, miss!” A lively voice chirps and when you look toward the source, the small child is already far away from you. Kids, you muse to yourself as you turn back around.

Your breath catches in your throat. Standing right in front of you is the male who has become your muse.

But he’s not looking at you.

No, he’s looking at the sketchbook on the ground. Your heart skips a beat, heat rising to your face. The sketchbook had opened to the pages you've been working on—the ones with multiple sketches of his eyes.

You’re frozen in horror, watching as he studies your work. None of you say anything for a moment. It’s when his gaze lifts to yours that you spring into action. “Oh,” you gasp, beginning to bend your knees to gather your belongings. You're absolutely mortified, praying to the Cauldron he can’t hear how fast your heart is racing.

“I’m so sorry.”

Before your hand can reach for your sketchbook, another hand beats you to it.

“Don’t be,” he says, his voice deep and enchanting, causing your hand to freeze in midair. There seems to be a magnetic pull in his words, a sincerity that makes your heart flutter. Is there anything about this male that is not attractive?

“I’ve never seen the beauty of my eyes until now.”

The words are spilling from your mouth before you can stop them. “You’re joking, right?”

He’s knelt before you, his hand hovering over your book. But instead of picking it up for you, he grasps for your hand instead. It’s warm and calloused yet feels so good against yours. Like heaven. His eyes finally meet yours, holding you captive. He slowly brings your hand to his lips, and you don’t think you’re breathing as he presses his lips against your skin.

“No,” he grins as he rises to his full height, using his free hand to grab your sketchbook before bringing you with him. “I’m Lucien.”

It takes you a moment to realize he is waiting for you to speak, his presence overwhelming but exhilarating.

“I’m—” you clear your throat to steady your voice. “I’m y/n.”

���y/n,” Lucien repeats with a smile, finally handing you over your sketchbook.

You take it, immediately clutching the book tightly to your chest and avert your gaze, casting it downwards. “I promise I’m not a creep. I was drawing the Sidra–well, attempting to, anyway. But then you came along, blocking my view and something came over me. You see, I’ve been struggling with artist block and your eyes–your eyes are so pretty”--and under your breath, you mutter–” All of you is, if I’m going to be honest…”–Lucien’s smile widens at that–”and I finally felt inspired–oh gods, I’m rambling. I should just shut my mouth.”

Lucien’s russet eye twinkles with amusement. “I inspired you?”

“Yes,” you answer quietly and bashfully.

“Then perhaps,” he says, his voice low and intimate. “I should let you inspire me as well.”

Slowly, you lift your head back up, meeting his eyes once more. A wave of relief surges through you as you find nothing but sincerity and shared interest in his gentle gaze. You find yourself mirroring his smile, and something warm blossoms in Lucien’s chest—the start of something beautiful.

And he can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, the Night Court isn’t so bad after all.

a/n: okay, that's enough Lucien for now. Can't keep letting him distract me because I need to focus back on the other Vanserra *cough* Eris *cough*

general tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen

[sarawritestories]

Take A Break

High Lord Eris Vanserra X High Lady Fem Reader

Summary: Eris comes home from business at the Spring Court. Only to hear reports from the staff that his High Lady has been working herself to the ground and not taking care of herself.

Dedicated to @milswrites and @eve175 who are constantly making sure I am taking care of me and getting proper rest. I adore you both!

Content Warning: I did not proofread this. This fluff, but Reader hasn't slept and has had some disordered eating habits (she has been working so hard

Peep the Critical Role Reference for any Critters reading this 😉

ACOTAR MASTERLIST

Eris Vanserra was glad to be home. Sure, working with Tamlin to rebuild the Court was mutually beneficial. Tamlin gets his court back, and Eris rebuilds a strong alliance with the spring. It was work worth fighting for to repair what Beron destroyed. However, he was itching to get home to his mate.

You were the apple of his eye, the moment the bond snapped on Calanami, his first as High Lord. Eris held no hesitation when it came to making you his High Lady. He watched how hard you worked at your bookshop. He knew you could handle it.

Reaching the stables, The Autumn High Lord handed his esteemed steed to the young fae male working. "Take care of sweet, Vex'ahlia, will you?" Eris gave the lad a warm smile and received an eager head nod. "Thank you."

Entering the palace, he was greeted by your two ladies-in-waiting. "My lord." The older woman bowed the younger one fidgeting, Eris picked up on the nervous behavior. "How was your trip?"

Eris bowed his head in return, "Very well, Maxine, but I am ready to see my wife. Though I suspect with the look on both of your faces, something is wrong." He tugged on the bond and found a quick tug back in return, and he couldn't help the sigh of relief that slipped past his lips.

Maxine sighed, "Sir, she has been sleeping in the study."

"If she sleeps at all." The younger one, Nadine muttered.

Maxine ignored her and continued, "We have barely gotten her to eat. She has buried herself so deep into work that she simply forgets that warm food is right there. I'm not trying to speak out of turn."

Eris gripped the older woman's shoulder, "You are not. I appreciate you telling me. Is she still in the study."

"Yes, High Lord."

Eris laughed, "Maxine, you can call me Eris. After all, you did change my diapers."

Maxine smiled, "I'll you whatever you like if you go take care of that wife of yours."

Eris kissed her cheek, "Yes ma'am," With that, he went to go find his High Lady.

****************************************************

You ran your fingers through your hair as you scribbled notes on some parchment. These last few days, you buried yourself in paperwork. Just when you thought you were done. More stacks would form. Not wanting to fall behind and with Eris being gone, you had decided to dedicate the time to working. Only to find you were getting overwhelmed, feeling like you could never walk away, missing meals, not sleeping, you were burning out.

You turned to grab more blank parchment when a voice came from the doorway, "Now what do we have here." You turned to find Eris there, his red curls laying atop of his head and the russet colors of his eyes gleaming in the fae light."

You dropped the materials in your hands. "When did you get back?" You bounced off your seat and ran to him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"I just got here." He held you close, taking in your scent. "I heard something interesting, though."

You blinked, "Oh?"

He kissed your head, "My Little Dove has not been taking care of herself." You opened your mouth to protest, but he pressed his lips to yours. "There is no fighting me on this."

You sighed, "Okay."

He winnowed you to the kitchen. It being so late the kitchen staff was gone. Eris put on an Apron and you quirked a brow. "You cook?"

Eris smiled, "I do." He tossed an apron at you. "And I am going to show you how to make my favorite me." Your cheeks warmed, remembering how you gave him a small plate of cheese to accept the bond.

You walked over to him, "Ready to Learn."

****************************************************

Cooking with Eris was fun, and you learned that the high lord had a playful side. He'd sneak up behind you to try the sauce you were making. Dipping his finger to dab it on your nose, causing you to giggle. Once everything was cooking he pulled you into his arms and you began to dance.

He pulled you into a waltz with no music. And you watched as his smile grew, his freckles popping out by the fire and the fae lights. He wasn't worried about work, or his brothers, or his responsibilities. He was beautiful.His main focus was you. He pulled you closer, his hands sliding close to the curve of your ass. He kissed you.

He tried to deepen the kiss, but the kettle screamed that the water was boiling. Pulling away, you smiled and grabbed the kettle. Once the meal was prepped, Eris made your place and insisted he feed you.

"I am fully capable of feeding myself. I am High Lady." You pouted and Eris quirked a brow instantly causing you to fix your attitude.

"Yes, you are my High Lady. You're also zeroed in on your work so much this week you barely ate. So I am taking care of you." He patted his lap, "Sit, Dove." You obeyed, and the smell of the food made your mouth water. He scooped up some of the food with the utensil and leveled it to your mouth. "Open." You opened your mouth on command, and he placed the food in your mouth, and you moaned in pleasure. The flavor exploded in your mouth.

He fed you until the meal was gone. "Why haven't you been taking care of yourself?"

You met his Russet eyes and sighed, "I didn't do it on purpose. It simply felt like everyone needed me. I just lost track of time."

He sighed and kissed your bare shoulder peaking out of your sweater. "You need breaks. They are important. You'll burn yourself out or wither away into nothing if you don't." His eyes grew serious, "I don't want to see my mate suffering."

"I'm sorry." You leaned your head against his.

"Don't apologize to me. You need to apologize to yourself. You deserve to love yourself and see yourself as worthy of breaks." He held you close. "Okay."

"Okay... I may need gentle reminders." You whispered, a full belly causing the exhaustion to take hold.

"I will give you those gentle reminders." He kissed your forehead as your eyes fluttered close. Allowing the smell of autumn leaves and cinnamon from your mate to bring you comfort.

When you fell asleep, Eris carried you in his arms. Hands wrapped around your knees and shoulders and walked you to your shared bedroom. Placing you on your side of the bed, he pulled the covers over you. "Sweet Dreams, Little Dove." He kissed your head, causing you to stir and just turn over. The High Lord left your room and headed to your study where he would finish the paperwork that was stacked on your desk.

Fin

@secret-third-thing for your Eris reading pleasure

[saint-ambrosef]

newbie's guide to produce

for all my peers who were not taught how to shop for veggies and fruit on a budget and struggle to use them before they go bad:

(disclaimer: prices are approximate based on where i live in the Southern US. costs may be higher in your area, but the comparison of cost should still be valuable.)

cheap produce year-round:

roma tomatoes. if they look under-ripe you can leave them on the counter for a few days. keeps in fridge for about 2 weeks. $1/lb.

cucumbers. around here they're 50-60 cents each. go bad quickly though, about 1 week in fridge.

celery. two bucks for a head. starts to get sad after two weeks in fridge. only makes sense if you like to snack on celery or make soups often.

corn. whole ears are like 20cents each mid-summer, otherwise just get frozen. $1.50 for a lb.

peas. get these puppies frozen for $1.50/lb. good protein, too.

romaine lettuce. one head is good for several small salads, about $2 and lasts a week in fridge. the big boxes/multi-packs may seem like a better deal but not if it all goes bad before you can eat it.

onions. kind of a given but you can get regular yellow varietals for less than a buck per pound. will last for 1-2 months in pantry.

potatoes. you can get 5lb bags of russets for three bucks. sweet potatoes are a lil over $1/lb. last 2-3 months in pantry; if they grow sprouts, you can cut those off and still eat it.

bananas. dirt cheap. a small bunch (4-5) costs like a dollar. if they go over-ripe before you eat them all just get less or get a few green ones (p.s: you're allowed to break them off larger clumps).

radishes. $1.50 for a little bundle. greens get wilty after a week, roots will last 2 weeks (you can use both parts).

hot peppers. poblano, jalapeno, etc., are often quite cheap and you usually don't need very many anyways. few weeks fridge or counter.

cheap produce when in season:

summer squash. in summertime (duh), zucchini and yellow squash are like $1.25/lb. only last a week or so though in fridge.

winter squash. actually in season in fall, these are your butternuts and acorn squash. less than $1/lb then. lasts in pantry for months.

green beans. in warm months they can be on sale for $1.50/lb! last 1.5-2 weeks in fridge? (kinda depends on the shape they're in)

kale. it's a cool-season green that commonly is on sale in colder months. $1.60 for a big bunch, about 1.5 weeks in fridge before it gets seriously wilty. (can be eaten cooked or raw!)

apples. fall/winter, usually at least one variety on sale for $1.25/lb. last forever.

oranges. most citrus are winter fruits. $1/lb. will last forever in your fridge.

strawberries. spring. at their peak, i can find them for $2/lb. otherwise they are too expensive.

watermelon. $8 for big 10lb melons. they can take up a ton of space though and need to be refrigerated once cut/ripe.

cantaloupe. another summer star! $1.50 each on sale. they will slow ripen in the fridge but you do have to keep an eye on it.

pineapple. $1.50 in summer time. might be ripe even when still a bit green, ready when they smell noticeably ripe.

pears. fall season, sometimes into winter. $1.20/lb. last 1-2 weeks on the counter or forever in the fridge.

pomegranate. in winter time they can be found for $2 each. tricky to peel though.

peaches. and nectarines (which are just fuzzless peaches). $1.25/lb in summer and will last for weeks in your fridge.

eggplants. summertime veggie, you can get for $1.50 when they're on sale. otherwise a bit pricey. keep in fridge for 2 weeks.

mid-range produce:

cabbage. three bucks for a 2-lb head but you can get a lot out of it. will keep 3-4 weeks in the fridge but any exposed cut sides will start moldering after a week.

mushrooms. white button or baby bella. $1.50 for 8oz. keep in mind, mushrooms halve in size after cooking. ~2 weeks though.

avocados. if you live in the South like me, small hass varietals are 60-80 cents apiece in winter. ripe when it gives just a little to squeezing (you can't go off color alone).

broccoli. fresh is $1.70ish per head and lasts a week in fridge. frozen is $1.50/lb but might be kind of mushy.

most greens. spring mixes, spinach, arugula, etc can really vary in price but often fall into a few bucks at least per bundle/package. in a fridge's humidity drawer they last 1-2 weeks.

kiwis. i love them but they're a bit pricey for their size. 50 cents each. their keep depends on how ripe they are at purchase.

expensive produce:

asparagus. one of the most expensive veggies. sometimes in spring you can get it for $2/lb (a steal but still a bit much). lasts 1.5 weeks.

brussel sprouts. same as above.

red or yellow bell peppers. they are used sooo often in recipes and it annoys me. often $1.50-2.00 each. last a long time in fridge.

caluiflower. three bucks for a head. yikes!

green beans. when they're not in season, they are like $3/lb.

snap peas. same as above, except they never seem to be on sale.

raspberries. go bad in 3 days and cost an arm and a leg. sometimes when they're in season you can get them for like $2 per half-pint as a treat.

blueberries and blackberries. even when they're in season, they're still $2 per pint.

grapes. they can sorta be affordable in the fall season for $2/lb, but otherwise they're double that. and usually you have to commit to buying several pounds. last 2 weeks in fridge.

plums. i love them so so much but they're only in season for like 2 weeks of the year it seems and they're like $3/lb.

inexpensive accoutrements: (for garnishes, seasoning, etc)

limes. 25cents apiece. they'll start to dry out after 1 week on the counter so keep them in the fridge unless you will use it soon.

lemons. usually 50cents each for the small varietals. keep same as above.

green onions. less than a dollar for a bunch, and you can easily regrow a few times at home if you stick the white rooted end in water by a window.

cilantro. 50cents. will last WAY longer (1-2 weeks) if you keep it in a mug of water in the fridge.

parsley. 85cents. same as above.

obviously sticking just with popularly available produce across the country. it's not an exhaustive list but can give you a bit more perspective on what produce you should be focusing on if you're trying to work with a tight grocery budget. good luck!

[slytherin-pen]

The Birthing Fox

After ten months of pregnancy, your little kit is ready to make their debut. The labor is long and grueling but with your mate by your side you are able to power through long enough to meet your little girl. Plus a visit from your blended families!

Lucien x Reader

word count: 2k

warnings: minor description of labor

all ACOTAR credit belongs to SJM

The first contractions came in the dead of night, like an ambush, pulling you out of sleep with a sharp, twisting pain low in your belly. You groaned, clutching your stomach, your breath shuddering as the pain radiated through you. For a moment, you closed your eyes, praying to the Mother that it was a false alarm—that the baby could at least wait until morning to make their appearance. But as the pain persisted, and tension grew in your lower back, you knew the time had come.

Lucien stirred beside you, his golden eye gleaming in the faint moonlight filtering through the window. “What’s wrong?” His voice was thick with sleep, but concern bled into his tone as he sat up, immediately sensing the shift.

You clenched your teeth, groaning again. “Lucien, I think the baby’s coming.”

The words had barely left your mouth before Lucien was on his feet, moving with the grace of a trained warrior. His hand gently cupped your belly, eyes widening as he felt the tightness there, the unmistakable sign of your babe preparing to make their grand entrance.

“Right,” he breathed, voice strained as he tried to remain calm. “The healers. We need to call the healers.”

But as another wave of pain hit, more intense than the last, you snapped, “No, what I needed was a couple more hours of sleep.”

Lucien chuckled nervously, but he didn't argue. Instead, he pressed a kiss to your sweaty brow before moving quickly to alert the healers. Within minutes, your cozy Spring Court cottage was filled with their presence, bustling around, preparing for what would be the longest, most arduous hours of your life.

The labor was grueling. For ten months, you had carried your little kit, and now it seemed as though they were determined to make you work for it. The contractions were relentless, each one pulling at the threads of your sanity, making your temper flare hotter and hotter.

As the hours wore on, you found yourself snapping at everyone—Lucien, the healers, even the Mother herself. “Get this baby out of me!” you demanded, your voice raw with frustration. The calm reassurances from the healers grated on your nerves, and Lucien’s attempts to soothe you, though well-meaning, only made you lash out more. It was easy for them to say you were doing a good job, to just keep breathing— but you were the only one in labor for Cauldron’s sake.

"You're doing great, darling," Lucien said softly, brushing the damp strands of hair from your face with a cool cloth.

"I feel far from ‘great’ right now" you snarled. "I just want this baby out!"

Lucien winced but stayed by your side, his hand never leaving yours, even as your grip threatened to break his fingers. He was steady and patient, his deep concern hidden beneath a veneer of calm, but you could see the flickers of unease in his russet eye. He hated seeing you in pain, hated that there was nothing he could do to ease your suffering.

The healers worked diligently, guiding you through each excruciating push, but every second felt like an eternity. You could feel your body straining, muscles trembling with effort as you fought to bring your babe into the world. The fatigue was setting in quickly, and you feared what would happen if you ran out of strength before your babe was born.

“Just a little longer,” one of the healers encouraged. “You’re almost there.”

"Almost there," you growled through gritted teeth. "I’ve been ‘almost there’ for hours!"

Lucien shot the healer an apologetic glance but said nothing, his focus entirely on you. He pressed a kiss to your knuckles, murmuring soft words of encouragement even as you continued to curse everything from the stars to the very ground you stood on.

And then, at last, you felt it—a release of pressure, and the sudden wail of your newborn filled the room.

“It’s a girl,” the healer cheered.

Your breath hitched, the agony of the past hours dissolving in an instant as the healer held up the small, wriggling bundle. She was perfect, with a crown of fiery red hair, and your eyes, already opened wide as she made her presence known to all of Prythian with her wails.

“She’s beautiful,” Lucien whispered, awe lacing his voice as he looked down at the tiny miracle in the healer’s arms.

Tears ran down your flushed cheeks as they placed her in your arms, her warm, soft body settling against your chest. You gazed down at her, heart swelling with an indescribable love, every ounce of pain worth this moment. She quieted as she snuggled into you, her cries turning into soft whimpers as she relaxed against your skin.

Lucien sat beside you on the bed, his arm around your shoulders as he looked down at your daughter with nothing short of reverence. His free hand rested on her back, gentle but protective, as if he couldn’t believe she was real.

"She’s perfect," you whispered, voice hoarse but filled with awe.

Lucien’s smile was wide, his amber eye bright with unshed tears as he kissed your temple. “You did it, my love. You brought her into the world.”

You managed a small, exhausted smile, leaning into him. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

For a long while, the two of you simply sat there, basking in the peace that followed the storm. The healers quietly gathered up their supplies, giving you privacy to bond with your new family. After some time, they cleaned you off with wet cloths and helped change the sheets without jostling you too much. The weight of exhaustion pulled you under as Lucien took your daughter into his arms, cradling her with the utmost care.

While you slept, Lucien watched over you both, his heart so full it felt like it might burst. He had been ready to tear apart anyone who so much as looked at you wrong during the labor, and now, holding his daughter in his arms, he felt a fierce protectiveness settle over him. This was his family, his world, and he would do anything to keep you both safe.

Later that afternoon Lucien helped you to the couch, placing your daughter in your arms as your home filled with visitors. The Inner Circle arrived first—Rhysand, Feyre, Nesta, Cassian, Azriel, Mor, and Elain—each of them eager to meet the newest member of the Vanserra family.

Rhysand and Feyre were the first to approach, Feyre’s eyes soft with maternal understanding as she smiled down at your daughter. “She looks so much like you,” Feyre said, reaching out to gently brush a finger against the baby’s cheek.

Rhysand shot Lucien a grin. “Another redhead to add to the chaos. I’m sure you’re already feeling the protective instincts kicking in.”

Lucien nodded, his expression a mix of pride and wariness. “More than you know.”

Rhysand replied with a knowing smirk and retreated behind his mate.

Morrigan was next, smiling ear to ear she finally laid on eyes on the babe she spent months shopping for. “You have me to thank for all your cute clothes,” she whispered.

The rest of the Inner Circle took turns cooing over the baby, each of them offering their congratulations and heartfelt well-wishes. Nesta, to your surprise, was the softest of them all, her icy demeanor melting as she looked down at your daughter with something almost like longing in her eyes. Cassian, the big-hearted warrior, promised to teach her how to fight when she was old enough.

“Does she have a name yet,” Elain asked.

Lucien, sat on the arm of the couch next to you, finally turned his gaze away from the babe to answer. “We named her Amelia. Amelia Vanserra,” he said with a proud smile.

When Helion, High Lord of the Day Court, arrived with Lucien’s mother in tow, the tension in the room eased into something lighter. Helion approached you with a wide, beaming smile, his golden skin gleaming in the sunlight that filtered through the windows. He bent down to kiss your cheek, his gaze lingering on your daughter with unmistakable pride.

“My granddaughter,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “She’s radiant, just like her mother.”

Lucien shifted slightly, the territorial edge returning for a brief moment as Helion’s eyes flicked to you, but he relaxed when his mother stepped forward.

“If she’s anything like you, Lucien, she will be your greatest joy,” Phoebe, the High Lady of Day Court said.

Phoebe spent a few moments holding her granddaughter as Helion looked over her shoulder before passing her back to you, giving Lucien a brilliant smile. “You’ve done well, my son.”

Lucien felt tears prick his eyes, but he cleared his throat, murmuring a quiet thanks. He couldn’t imagine what this was like for his mother and father. If they ever thought they would see the day they could stand together holding their grandchild.

Soon after, Eris arrived, the ever-proud High Lord of the Autumn Court, with a gift in hand—a delicate, intricately crafted bracelet for the little kit, woven with magic to protect her as she grew. His neutral mask was in place while in the presence of so many others, though his amber eyes gleamed with genuine fondness as he looked down at his niece.

“I expect great things from her,” Eris said quietly, his voice laced with adoration and great expectation.

Lucien gave his brother a sharp look. “Let her be a child first.”

Eris smirked, but there was no malice behind it. “Of course, little brother. She will cause as much of a ruckus in the Autumn forests as we once did.”

Lastly, to everyone’s surprise, Tamlin himself arrived, the High Lord of Spring Court standing in your doorway with a tentative smile. His presence brought a brief stillness to the room, but Lucien welcomed him with a nod, his protectiveness flaring only slightly as Tamlin approached.

Tamlin, to his credit, kept his distance, his emerald green eyes soft as he gazed at your daughter from afar. “She’s beautiful, Lucien. You and your mate have done well.”

Lucien inclined his head. “Thank you, Tam.”

Tamlin lingered for only a moment before stepping back, his own emotions tightly controlled as he gave you both a respectful bow. Despite the tension still healing between them, it was clear Tamlin was genuinely happy for his friend.

As the evening wore on, the cottage grew crowded with laughter and conversation. Everyone had brought gifts—small tokens of affection for the baby, as well as dishes and treats to help you through the first few days of parenthood. The kitchen table was overflowing with food, and though the two-bedroom cottage was modest, it never felt cramped. Instead, it felt full—full of love, full of warmth.

Lucien remained close to your side the entire time, making sure you were comfortable, and that you had everything you needed. He was as protective as ever, casting sharp glances and soft growls at anyone who got too close without his permission. But beneath the wariness, there was a softness in his eyes—a joy that radiated from him as he held you close, watching you cradle your daughter in your arms.

Eventually, the guests began to trickle out, offering their final congratulations before leaving you and Lucien alone with your baby. The night was quiet, the hearth crackling softly as Lucien paced around the bedroom, your daughter held carefully against his chest.

You lay in bed, exhausted but content, watching Lucien. His voice was a soft murmur as he spoke to your daughter about the life you had before her.

“Once, your mother and I traveled through every court in Prythian,” Lucien was saying, his voice low and soothing as he rocked her gently. “We’ve faced many battles together, but none of them compare to you, my little kit.”

Your heart swelled as you listened to him, a sense of peace washing over you. Lucien’s love for your daughter, for you, was palpable, woven into every word, every tender gesture.

As the firelight flickered, casting a warm glow over the room, you allowed yourself to drift off to sleep, knowing that you were surrounded by love, by family, and by the unbreakable bond between you, Lucien, and your little girl.

And that, you thought with a smile, was all you could ever ask for.

[theangryhistoriananna]

Whenever people claim Lucien never cared about Feyre past her connection to Tamlin and then Elain I always wonder if we've read the same books.

Like I can think of a TON of moments that showcase, starting in ACOTAR that Lucien did care for Feyre and considered her a friend but these five especially stick out for me:

But Beron had been part of that alliance, if I correctly recalled my lessons with Rhys all those months ago. "And yet here you are, ready to march with Hybern." "I did it for you, too, you know." Cold, hard words. "I went with him to get you back." "I never realized with a powerful motivator guilt can be." [.....] I said quietly, "Thank you. For coming to Hybern to get me." He pulled at the moss beside him, jaw tight. "It was a trap. What I thought we were to do there....it did not turn out that way." -ACOWAR 30

Lucien unbuttoned his jacket but remained mostly dressed as he slid onto his sleeping roll. "I think it's worse because you two haven't....I mean, you haven't, right?" I stiffened, tugging the blanket higher onto my shoulders. "No. I don't want to be touched like that-not for a while." His silence was heavy-sad. I hated the lie, hated it for how filthy it felt to wield it. "I'm sorry" he said. And I wondered what else he was apologizing for as I faced him in the darkness of our tent. -ACOWAR 56

....It's old magic-old and strange. It's why we avoid bargains unless it's necessary: even the scholars at the Day Court don't know how it works. Believe me, I've asked." "For me-you asked them for me." "Yes. I went last winter to inquire about breaking your bargain with Rhys." "Why didn't you tell me?" "I-we didn't want to give you false hope. And we didn't dare let Rhysand get wind of what we were doing, in case he found a way to interfere. To stop it." -ACOWAR 56

Tamlin had begged my forgiveness at dinner yesterday-and I'd given it to him. But Lucien hadn't spoken to him all evening. -ACOWAR 71

I was running out of borrowed time. I could winnow, but then I'd abandon Lucien to them if he somehow couldn't manage to himself with the faebane in his system from the food at the camp- Leave him. I should and could leave him. But to a fate perhaps worse than death- His russet eye gleamed. "Go" I made my choice. -ACOWAR 91

I often seen the last one used as evidence that Feyre was a good friend to Lucien who didn't deserve it and it always flabbergasts me that people think that from that passage of all passages. That entire scene is mostly just Feyre mentally complaining because stepping in and helping Lucien (who is being SA'd when she finds him and then later is having his life and/or sanity threatened) is causing her to waste time she needs to flee. She keeps telling herself that now that Alis is gone she doesn't need to feel guilty for what happens to Spring Court-including Lucien. She only steps in to protect Lucien from Ianthe because it's Ianthe and her hatred of her is stronger than her empathy for what Lucien went through. She only steps in and decides to stay and fight the twins AFTER Lucien urges her to leave him and save herself.

Lucien again and again and again steps in and protects Feyre, gives her advice, comforts her, argues with Tamlin for her, puts himself in danger for her, gives her presents (despite not getting any in return) and proves himself to be what Rhys told Feyre later in ACOWAR: loyal to a fault.

Not just to Elain, not just to Tamlin, not just the Band of Exiles. But to her as well. To Feyre almost most of all.

and in return Feyre takes his genuine concern for her and protectiveness over her and wields it as a weapon to tear his home down and goad Tamlin into violence with little care. She takes her friend and at best considers him a tool to be used for her and Night Court's benefit and expects him to show her nothing but gratitude.

I do think Feyre loves Lucien and wants him to stay in her life, but honey Lucien was always the better friend.

[lady-of-tearshed]

Stupid Spring! Stupid allergies!

Lucien Vanserra x Reader

A/N: I'm currently suffering from allergies AND asthma. So I'm making it Lucien's problem. Bear with me, I wrote this with 4 hours of sleep. 🫡💕

Sumarry: You are visiting Lucien's old friend in Spring Court. Only, your allergies are being a pain in the ass, and you can't wait to get the fuck away from this Court of Sneezes and Tissues.

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: None.

Divider made by @saradika-graphics 💕

Your eyes were dry from staring at the turning clock hands centered on the tapestry covered walls. You turned your head to the side of the bed, throwing an accusatory grimace at the extravagant pollen nest. People would most likely call that pollen nest a colorful and pleasant smelling bouquet of extravagant looking flowers, but to you, it was just a fucking pollen nest. And a big pain in your ass, considering your allergies and unbearable asthma. You take a deep breath and roll out of bed, sniffling. You shove the bouquet out of their vase, and carry it towards their tragic fate. You open up the window as quickly as possible, and throw them out of the window, closing it back before any pollen could sneak in. You look over Lucien’s side of the bed, and spot another one of this enemy's hideout. You yank the bunch of sadly beautiful flowers, almost making the vase smash onto the ground, and give that bouquet the same fate the other one succumbed from. You peer over the window, at the piled up flowers, and silently clasp your hand in content. You close the window, once again, and as if the flowers were getting revenge on you, despite their absence, you sneeze, and mutter a curse. 

The softness of the linen sheets welcomed you back in bed, and if it weren’t from those allergy symptoms, you would’ve fallen asleep like a baby, just like Lucien was. You roll on your side, staring at his beautiful features, and you sigh in content at the sight of him. You wiggled closer to him, watching his chest fall and rise, his lips slightly parted, and take in his scent. He smelled just like usual, but there was an additional smell of mint lingering on him, probably because he brushed his teeth before bed. His body was hot, so hot… He was hot in every sense of the word, actually. His thigh muscles looked like they had been carved by the Cauldron itself, you ran your fingers along those, his golden-brown skin shone under the moonlight filtering through the curtains. He shivered and grumbled as your hand started stroking his delicious thigh, and you can’t help but pout and pull your hand away at how grumpy your mate was when asleep. You took an exaggerated loud sigh, hoping Lucien would stir from his peaceful slumber to accompany you through your insomnia. 

“Lu,” You whisper through the silence at your first failed attempt to obtain his attention. The constant ticking of the clock echoed through the ridiculously huge bedroom of Tamlin's manor, it was the only sound breaking through the silence as you waited fo Lucien’s russet eye or golden prosthesis to open. That idiotic redhead was peacefully snoring beside you, and you swore that you could see drool pooling from his soft lips with the rising daylight that filtered through the pastel colored curtains. “Lu,” You whispered again, shaking your mate's shoulder a little to wake him up. Why wake him up? You didn't know. Maybe you just wanted him to suffer from the same lack of sleep he was putting you through by forcing you to come here, only to visit his old friend. It felt as if your nose was filled with snot, and your eyes filled with sand. How could something as small as stupid pollen make you feel as if you were on the verge of dying from the lack of oxygen properly entering your lungs? You gently nibble on Lucien's ear, and he grumbles, clicking his tongue and shoving his hand in the air as if he was chasing away a fly. “Sleep.” He whines sleepily, and you scoff. “Sleep?! You think I can sleep?!” 

He rolls on his side and yanks you into his arms, he wraps them around your waist, making sure to not crush your lungs. “M'love… You took those allergies and sleep tonics before bed, there's not much I can do even if you pull me out of the peaceful land of dreams,” You gasp out an offended sound, and Lucien sighs, just wanting to knock that dramatic attitude out of you and fall back asleep. “So what, when our children will be sick and need you in the future you'll just drug them and sleep through it?!” He narrowed one eye open at your slightly frustrated tone, a lazy grin appears on his face. “Love, we don't have children. You said you didn't even want them yet. Changing your mind now?” He purred, snuggling his face in your neck. You tried to scoot away from his embrace, but Lucien wasn't having it. The more you tried to wiggle out of his grip, the more his fingers mercilessly tickled your ribs. “Nope! I'm certainly not changing my mind so soon about having children. Lu- Stop it!” You wheezed, trying to hold back your chuckles because you knew that would only fuel him to continue. 

“Alright, alright. Now be a good girl and close those pretty eyes,” He locks his arms around your waist, holding your back tightly against his chest and pressing a lazy kiss at the top of your head, “We'll be taking our leave tomorrow, I'll inform Tamlin that my precious and strong mate has succumbed to pollen.” You mimic Lucien’s annoying tone under your breath, but his Fae ear caught your voice. “What was that?” He challenges you to do it again, but you only growl in defeat, sneezing once more. “That’s what I thought. Good night, I love you, my beautiful flower full of pollen.” He snickered, proud of the nickname he just now made up to tease you. You cross your arms, but bring one of his hands to kiss his knuckles, even if your cheeks were bright red from his constant mockeries. “Love you too, my big pain in the ass.” “Your very lovely ass.” He added, before falling asleep in a heartbeat. How fucking lucky he was to easily fall asleep like that, you thought. 

—

You stared blankly at the steaming mug of black coffee in front of you, and poured a ridiculous amount of maple syrup in it. Your eyes dart up in Tamlin's direction when you hear his choked laugh coming from his side of the table. As delighted you were to hear that spark of happiness coming back to your mate's dearest friend, you couldn't help that dark stare directed to him, matching the dark circles looming underneath your puffy eyelids. “Slept well?” “Wonderfully.” You and Lucien answer at the same time, the read-head's voice sounding way more cheery than your sarcastic and raspy one. You continued to eat in silence, and you kicked Lucien’s feet from under the table as if to say “tell him!”. Lucien cleared his throat, and spoke up, “We’re leaving for Dawn today, to visit Nuan.” Tamlin noded, a wicked smirk growing at the corner of his lips. “That’s wonderful, I’m sure Thesan and Nuan will be delighted to see you again and meet your mate, Lucien,” He bit his lip to stifle a laugh, and by the glimmer that shone in the High Lord’s irises, he knew that he was about to tease you a little. Tamlin's cheerful voice rang again, “I heard that they had trouble with pollen lately, too. There have been high winds in spring lately, and it might’ve made the pollen travel all the way there… Unfortunately.” You drop your spoon in your coffee, almost breaking the cup as you shoot a panicked glance towards your mate. But your expression immediately turns from a troubled to an annoyed one when you notice the two Fae males bursting into a fit of laughter, tears at the corner of their eyes. “Ha.Ha. Very funny you two.” 

At least now, Tamlin was happy. And Lucien was too, because currently, his friend was healing. And getting better. 

[acourtofthought]

I haven't seen this particular gem of a post but there is apparently one going around stating that everyone in the ACOTAR world has suffered more than Lucien, that he doesn't know suffering.

Just a little starter here. The first book began with Lucien's friend being murdered because they needed to sacrifice him in order to break the curse on Spring.

"Autumn Court is ...cutthroat. Beautiful, but his brothers see each other only as competition, since the strongest of them will inherit the title."

"Lucien fell in love with a faerie whom his father considered to be grossly inappropriate for someone of his bloodline." "His father had her put down. Executed, in front of Lucien, as his two eldest brothers held him and made him watch."

"Without his title protecting him, his brothers thought to eliminate one more contender to the High Lord's crown. Three of them went out to kill him."

"But he has never forgotten what they did to her, or what his brothers tried to do to him. Even if he pretends that he has."

"She took his eye as punishment. Carved it out with her own fingernail, then scarred his face. She sent him back so bloody that Tamlin...The High Lord vomited when he saw his friend."

Lucien's brothers lurked on the edges of the crowd - no remorse, no fear on their handsome faces. Amarantha sighed. "I thought you would have learned your lesson, Lucien. Though this time your silence will damn you as much as your tongue." Lucien kept his eyes shut. Ready - he was ready for Rhysand to wipe out everything he was, to turn his mind, his self into dust.

"but only after she made Tamlin bestow Lucien's punishment. Twenty lashes." (remember, because he tried to help Feyre in her trial? Also she prevented Lucien from being able to heal).

"Lucien lay chained to the center of the floor on the other side of the chamber, his remaining russet eye so wide that it was surrounded with white. / Again he was to be Amarantha's toy to torment."

"Don't give me that look, Lucien." SIlence again. Then a vicious snarl, and a shudder of magic rocked the house. Tamlin's voice had been low, deadly. Do not push me on this. I didn't want to know what was happening in that room, what he'd done to Lucien.

Thoughts slammed into me, images and memories, a pattern of thinking and feeling that was old, and clever and sad, endlessly sad and guilt-ridden, hopeless -

"She - she didn't act that way at..." Lucien. Lucien had hated her. Had made vague, vicious allusions to not liking her, to being approached by her. I was going to throw up. Had she...had she pursued him like that? Had he...had he been forced to say yes because of her position?

He might have completed the Great Rite with Ianthe of his own free will, but he certainly hadn't enjoyed it. Some line had been blurred - badly.

I waited the five minutes it took Tamlin to decide not to kill Lucien, and then smiled. I wondered if Lucien had pieced it together. That I had known Tamlin would come to my room tonight, after I had given him so many shy touches and glances today.

"Back off". "Do not touch me," he growled." Where Lucien stood, back against a tree - twin bands of blue stone shackled around his wrists. / And in this case...holding Lucien against that tree as Ianthe surveyed him like a snake before a meal. She slid a hand over the broad panes of his chest, his stomach. And Lucien's eyes shot to me as I stepped between the trees, fear and humiliation reddening his golden skin.

As the youngest of seven sons, I wasn't particularly needed or wanted."

"Did you think it was mere hatred that prompted my brothers to do their best to break and kill me?"

The circle of people who now claimed to be Feyre's new family...It was what, long ago, he'd once thought life at Tamlin's court would be. An ache like a blow to the chest went through him.

"I am Lucien. Seventh son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court. And a whole lot of nothing.

"I do not belong in the Autumn Court. And I'm willing to be I'm no longer welcome at h- the Spring Court." Home, he had almost said.

"The same things he does now." Helion waved a hand. "Belittle her, leave bruises where no one but him will see them." (So to recap, Beron physically and verbally abuses his WIFE, killed Lucien's love and people think he had an easy childhood with this man?)

It would explain why his father and brothers detest him so much - why they have tormented him his entire life.

I hadn't asked Lucien any questions about that visit - to Tamlin. Lucien hadn't explained the black eye and cut lip, either.

"I don't have anywhere else to go." "You ruined any chances I have of going back to Spring. Not to Tamlin, but to the court beyond his house. Everyone either still believes the lies you spun or they believe me complicit in your deceit" - Side note but even knowing this, about how the people feel about him because of Feyre's schemes, Lucien still allowed the NC to permanently station him there in SF. It's really cute of E/riels to think Az is having such a rough go of it, living in the Night Court with the brothers who love him, while Lucien just has it so easy, right?

The male had grown up alongside Eris. Had dealt with Eris's and Beron's cruelty. Had his lover slaughtered by his own father.

This paragraph is about Eris: Beron had tortured his own son for information, rather than thanking the Mother for returning him. / The male had been raised with every luxury and privilege - on paper. But who knew what terrors Beron had inflicted upon him?

So with that said, If that's how Beron treated his own son how do you think he treated the son he suspected belonged to another man?

Cassian knew Beron had murdered Lucien's lover. If the High Lord of Autumn had been willing to do that, what wouldn't he do?

So by all means, I'd love to know how a character who we have canon evidence of suffering from his younger years all the way through the present has it so much easier than everyone else?

Someone's selective reading is showing!!

[jules-writes-stories]

WIP Wednesday

I finally finished my Eris Week fic for Day 3: Healing | Betrayal. It explores so many aspects of Eris’s character that I've been wanting to write: the role he played in Lucien's youth and what happened to sever their relationship, what Eris’s role in Jesminda’s death might have been, and what it looks like to heal from it. Also, how does Eris truly feel about the Band of Exile’s pink couch?

Monster (working title)

Lucien dropped the dagger, his face, hands, and tunic now covered in the blood of his lover and his brother. Russet eyes glowed as they took Eris in. “I hate you. I fucking hate you.” His teeth and the whites of his eyes were so bright, set in contrast with the blood, his gleaming hair, the flames and blown out pupils of his eyes. “I never want to see you again.”

Eris growled. “You can hate me Lucien, but you and I are made of the same matter. You’ll never escape your birthright and the fire that thrums through your veins. We are two blades sharpened on the brutal whetstone that is this court.” 

“No,” Lucien ground out, “I’m nothing like you. You’re a monster.”  Jesminda’s blood had dried to an iron brown on his tunic, spattered like wet earth upon his face. 

No one had explained to Eris that when the heart breaks, it did not feel lighter, as one would imagine. No, it was not like a piece of glass that shattered and scattered to the corners of a room. A heart grew heavy and leaden. It pulled the body down. Breath burned and blood cooled. A heart, when broken, was melted down in the forge of pain and reformed to become dead weight. 

And now it sat, this dead thing in the cage of Eris’s ribs.

Only centuries of court training kept his face impassive and his voice level. “One day Lucien, you will know what it means to be cast as the villain in another’s story. But for now, I will gladly take that role to allow yours to continue.” 

Turning on his heel, Eris walked past the bloodied bodies of the twins, their unseeing brown eyes glazed over, their broken forms sprawled upon the clover of Spring. He would send for them to be collected, would feel something soon.

He crossed back into Autumn, and turned one last time to look over the border. Tamlin was holding Lucien back. His brother, who had once looked at him like he was the sun in his sky, now glared at him with pure hatred. Lucien was right. Eris was a monster made. 

Edit to add: Pls let me know if you’d like a tag for Eris Week!

PS: The real hero is @the-darkestminds who is agreeing to beta my 10k (!) monster saga because she’s a real one.

[starsreminisce]

When examining the context of Lucien's statement "I am a mated male" now, it's essential to consider everything that preceded it. Lucien's desire to reach Elain predates his deterring Ianthe. Upon his return from the Spring Court, he already had a plan to reach Elain, recognizing that Feyre was the most direct route to her.

Lucien's assertion that he is a mated male stems from the reality that he is indeed mated, and his mate has endured something traumatic. She is now with someone who held his mind and threatened to harm his mother.

Someone who Feyre kept insisting manipulated her.

ACOMAF:

Lucien was shaking his head, panting, and whirled to us. “Get her back,” he snarled at Tamlin over the ranting of the king. A mate—a mate already going wild to defend what was his.

Lucien spun toward me, and that metal eye whirred and narrowed. Centuries of cultivated reason clicked into place. I was not panicking at my sisters being taken. I said quietly, “We will get her back.” But Lucien was watching me warily. Too warily.

“How did you break free of his control,” Lucien said flatly from behind us. Tamlin gave him a warning growl. I’d forgotten he was there. My sister’s mate. The Mother, I decided, did have a sense of humor. “I wanted it—I don’t know how. I just wanted to break free of him, so I did.” We stared each other down, but Tamlin brushed a thumb over my shoulder. “Are—are you hurt?” I tried not to bristle. I knew what he meant. That he thought Rhysand would do anything like that to anyone— “I—I don’t know,” I stammered. “I don’t … I don’t remember those things.” Lucien’s metal eye narrowed, as if he could sense the lie.

“Forever,” I parroted, glancing behind—to where Lucien stood in the gravel drive. His gaze on me. Face hard. As if he’d seen through every lie. As if he knew of the second tattoo beneath my glove, and the glamour I now kept on it. As if he knew that they had let a fox into a chicken coop—and he could do nothing. Not unless he never wanted to see his mate—Elain—again. I gave Lucien a sweet, sleepy smile. So our game began.

ACOWAR:

I wondered what Lucien truly made of it. And the fact that the collateral in her friendship with Hybern had wound up being his mate. Elain. We had not spoken of Elain save for once, the day after I’d returned. Despite what Jurian implied regarding how my sisters will be treated by Rhysand, I had told him, despite what the Night Court is like, they won’t hurt Elain or Nesta like that—not yet. Rhysand has more creative ways to harm them. Lucien still seemed to doubt it.

I studied the broad, tan hand wrapped around my elbow. Then I met one eye of russet and one of whirring gold. Lucien breathed, “Where is he keeping her?” I knew who he meant. I shook my head. “I don’t know. Rhysand has a hundred places where they could be, but I doubt he’d use any of them to hide Elain, knowing that I’m aware of them.” “Tell me anyway. List all of them.” “You’ll die the moment you set foot in his territory.” “I survived well enough when I found you.” “You couldn’t see that he had me in thrall. You let him take me back.” Lie, lie, lie. But the hurt and guilt I expected weren’t there. Lucien slowly released his grip. “I need to find her.” “You don’t even know Elain. The mating bond is just a physical reaction overriding your good sense.” “Is that what it did to you and Rhys?”

Ianthe lifted her head, scanning my unsure, if not a bit aloof, face. “So you could be with them forever. And if Lucien had discovered that Elain was his mate beforehand, it would have been … devastating to realize he’d only have a few decades.” The sound of Elain’s name on her lips sent a snarl rumbling up my throat. But I leashed it, falling into that mask of pained quiet, the newest in my arsenal. Lucien answered, “If you expect our gratitude, you’ll be waiting a while, Ianthe.” Tamlin shot him a warning look—both at the words and the tone. Perhaps Lucien would kill Ianthe before I had the chance, just for the horror she’d put his mate through that day.

I asked Lucien to escort me, and he’d been more than happy to do so, given that his own status as a mated male made him uninterested in any sort of female company these days. And given that Ianthe had been trying to corner him all day to ask about what had happened at the ceremony.

[jsmelodies]

I'd Go Back to the Winter - Chapter 2

Five years ago, Elain Archeron loved Lucien Vanserra. Supposedly. She can’t remember a single second of it. And the only way to bring it back is to relive it all. Chapter Summary: Elain and Lucien meet again

Part 2 of my gift for @laxibbeb!🥰

Read here on ao3

Part 1

Chapter 2

Present Day

Elain shivered from the cold.

Lucien’s voice had faded off following that final word, until they stood in silence. They both stared at the entrance to the cottage, as if it would continue to bring the words forward.

“Did it work?” Lucien asked.

It took her a moment to understand what he meant. The memory.

“You’re the one who knows how this works, not me.”

“The memories aren’t fully gone, Elain. Just covered,” he explained. “Take a look.”

Truth be told, she never bothered to learn the semantics of the magic.

She knew that not all her memories were gone. She could remember her sister being taken by that beast, and the months that followed. The balls and grandeur that resulted from their return to high society, and the flirtations, and the courting.

How life had miraculously returned to her father’s eyes because of it, and how Nesta had turned more resentful when she saw the change.

Elain knew their fortune had been restored, but the question of how had remained a mystery. And whenever she tried to push further, it was like she was grasping at air.

They all connected together, interwoven in a tapestry of memories. But when she searched, following a single thread into what she assumed was a memory of him, it felt like she was wading through a pool of thick smoke.

Like a veil when she tried to push further.

But she tried again. She took a thread and gave it a gentle tug, seeing where it led. And it was there.

Like a blanket had been lifted. And she recalled the soft contours of his face. How different it had appeared from that elegant fae aristocracy, and how for just one instance, he had looked like a normal man.

She could remember a decade of misery and poverty transforming into hope.

She didn’t know how she had believed it, the glamour. There was nothing human about Lucien. Maybe it had been her naive mind, used to being so carefully guarded and protected. 

Because Nesta had seen right through it. She’d tried to shut the door in his face—

And then she said her name.

And that was where it ended.

“So, that’s it?” She asked. “You just looked at me and asked for my name?”

She’d been expecting something else, perhaps. What, exactly, she wasn’t sure. Love at first sight didn’t seem right. But for the grand love story they’d supposedly had, she’d expected a little…

More.

More than a few simple words, spoken in the bleak frost.

The corner of his mouth lifted. “We did have an actual conversation, as brief as it was. I told you who to talk to, and then I was on my way.” 

After the words settled, he said, “As delightful as you were, we didn’t see each other for a good time after that. There wasn’t a reason for it. I was busy in Spring being a pain to your sister, and trying to help break the curse. And I’m sure you didn’t think of me at all, after that meeting.”

As she thought about it, she found that wasn’t true at all.

In the following months, he hadn’t been at the forefront of her mind. He merely lingered along the edges, and she’d thought of him when her thoughts had the chance to wander. When she took her tea, and was meant to be in silence. While she ripped weeds from the flowerbeds, once the winter defrosted into a lovely spring.

“I did think of you.” She didn’t know why she offered that piece of herself, of her mind to him.

But something relented in that russet eye of his.

“I thought of you, too. When we were under that mountain,” he said slowly. “I couldn’t explain it, but the image of you smiling got me through the worst of it. I know why now, but…”

His words trailed off into the space between them. And they echoed across that thing that tied them together, still thrumming strongly in her chest.

“The bond,” she offered. 

“Yes.” He eyed her carefully, as if already preparing himself for what she might say.

And she found that she didn’t like the distance that had formed between them. Even though it was of her own making, the male that stood across from her was no more than a stranger.

Nothing felt worse than that.

Tired of the silence between them, she asked, “Where are we going next?”

***

Past

The second time he visited Elain Archeron, the human lands had fallen into winter again.

But this time, the Archerons had a large estate to keep them warm, and enough wealth to sustain them for generations.

If their father managed not to squander it.

Feyre would have come here herself, but Tamlin had been hesitant to let her leave the manor. That resulted in Lucien volunteering to come back, to make every possible effort to accomplish the task at hand.

He wasn’t looking for her explicitly. He’d been aiming for the front door when he felt the unexplainable urge to look towards the garden. And there she was, by the entrance of it, strolling through the withered rose bushes.

“Elain Archeron,” he said, giving a slight bow of his head. “We meet again, it seems.”

Since there were no servants about, he let his glamour fall. If this were to work, there needed to be no deception between them.

At his voice she startled, the blood draining from her face as she took in the features that had previously been hidden. His hair was brighter, less dull than it was. A fiery copper that exposed him entirely as other.

His pointed ears were displayed proudly, and he felt her eyes’ weight on them. Evaluating if he was a threat.

She was a doe frozen in the walkway, torn between if she should stay or flee.

And ultimately not making a choice as she stood in place, as if awaiting an eventual doom.

Luckily, Lucien was not a wolf.

“You’re fae,” she said, taking a step back, until she was almost on top of the bushes. Her skin was so close to those sharp thorns, so close to getting sliced up in effort to put distance between the two of them. “She told us, of course. But I couldn’t quite believe it.”

Lucien found that he hated the sight of her fear. So he kept his hands firmly clasped behind his back, and allowed his shoulders to relax, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible.

And he made no indication that he would intrude any further.

“My apologies, lady. I did not enjoy lying to you.”

He hadn’t, but it had been necessary. Otherwise they wouldn’t have taken the money, proclaiming it to be cursed gold, not fit for their deepest enemy. After getting to know Feyre for all those months, he found he couldn’t blame them.

He hadn’t thought about it, what it truly meant to be a human amongst a world full of faeries. Not until she’d come into their lives.

Elain trembled, and took another small step back.

Her fingers inched closer to that damned bush. Closer.

She flinched.

He smelled the blood a moment later. The iron. Saw the trickle of red run off of her hand, leaving droplets in the snow behind her, stark against the blinding white.

“You’re hurt,” he said.

She didn’t glance down. “I’m alright.”

“Allow me,” he said. “I can heal it.”

“Is this a faerie trick?” she asked.

He glanced towards her hands, trying and failing to get a sense as to how hurt she was while they stayed firmly behind her back.

“What reason would I have to trick you? I’m your sister’s friend, and therefore yours.” he said. “Let me see. Let me show you I mean no harm.” 

She wasn’t convinced. Her face was still wary, and she remained as close to the bush as ever.

“Can I come closer?” he asked.

“You can do whatever you like, can’t you?” she said, eyes flaring with something he hadn’t seen from her before. Interesting.

He let out a breath, the soft steam dancing as it filtered away in his peripheral. “Can I come closer?” he asked again. Waiting for her explicit permission.

She paused. Contemplated.

He didn’t know how badly he needed to see that small dip in her head. But she gave it to him, tentative and slightly hesitant, and his entire body relaxed.

He took one step forward, then another, until there was a small space between them that he would grant her the honor of closing.

He gestured for her hand.

“Your sister allowed me to heal her, when I could,” he reassured her. “It will take but a second. It won’t hurt.” 

Those hands finally appeared from behind her back.

As Elain blinked, tightening her fingers into her palm, she dared a step forward. And slowly, slowly, she raised it until her palm was before him. He took it in his hand, her skin smooth against his own callouses from his sword.

“Open it. Let me see.”

She shook slightly in his grip, barely perceptible, but she did as he asked. Her fingers unfurled, showing the small cut from the rose bush.

And then he traced his finger over it, expelling the tiniest bit of his magic to smooth over her skin.

One day, he would get used to the mortals’ reaction to his magic. But he was young, and had never had much reason to cross the wall. So Elain Archeron’s sharp intake of breath, her look of astonishment as he healed her took him by surprise.

He barely restrained himself from tightening his grip around her hand, from holding her to him.

“See? Good as new.”

Still, she stared at the unblemished skin, that didn’t even contain the hint of a scar. “The cost?”

“There is no cost.”

Elain didn’t pull her hand away. She watched, perplexed, as his thumb moved up the side of her hand.

He didn’t know why he didn’t let go. 

He should have let go.

He was still a predator in her eyes. The revelation came to him as he felt her heart race beneath his fingertips, even though the previous stiffness of her body had eased considerably. 

Unlike her sister, she hadn’t spent the last year learning to live amongst the fae. To her, until he proved otherwise, he remained a threat.

He hated it. He didn’t know why he hated it.

He hadn’t particularly cared, when he dealt with the same thing with Feyre. In fact, he’d found it almost amusing at first, until she almost got butchered by those naga and he’d started to consider her a friend.

Elain was different. He didn’t know why, but she was.

He didn’t want her to be afraid. It nearly made him sick to think of it.

She blinked up at him, the snowflakes dancing around them in a gentle flurry, and he watched one land on a long, dark eyelash. And he was captivated as he watched it melt, witnessing the tiny, white particle fade away until he could no longer see it.

He shifted forward, just a hair.

Elain seemed to remember who and where she was, taking back her hand with a quiet gasp.

“Why have you come?” The question wasn’t asked rudely. In fact, much of the wariness had dropped. It was inquisitive more than anything—her desiring to know the full truth.

He swallowed, forcing himself back up. He moved his shoulders back into position, and took a respectful step away. “I come with news regarding your sister.”

Elain perked up. “Feyre. Is she…?”

“Alive,” Lucien confirmed. “Your sister is alive. But…” He took a steadying breath. “She’s changed, lady.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“She’s fae now. High fae, like me. And just like the male she is to wed.” He let the words roll off of his tongue, and then the garden descended into silence.

For a moment, he didn’t think she’d speak. Elain didn’t say anything, her mouth remaining firmly shut.

Until she opened it, after a significant time had passed.

“How?” she asked. It was but a whisper amongst the whistle of the winter breeze, but his fae ears picked it up.

“She sacrificed her life for us,” he said. “And the high lords brought her back.”

He knew she had questions. He saw it on her face, the way her eyebrows bunched together as she tried to decipher what he said. But she didn’t ask for the full story, not yet anyways. Instead, her face turned so that it nearly matched the color of the snow beneath them, muttering something indecipherable to herself.

“And she is…well?” her small voice asked.

“As well as she can be,” Lucien said, his own voice softening. “She’s getting married in a month. After everything she’s been through, something good is coming of it.”

Elain managed a small smile. “I’m happy for her.”

And now. Now came the part where he asked the inconceivable of her. Where he asked her to go against every single instinct that had been ingrained in her, likely since she was a girl.

“She loves him,” Lucien said. “And she wants you to be there, more than anything. Both you and your sister.”

He saw the moment when it sunk in. When she retreated again, the whites of her eyes were more visible than ever. “In the faerie lands?” she asked, blanching. “In Prythian?”

“Normally, she would not ask. But her transition into being fae has been difficult on her, and both she and Tamlin agreed it would be helpful to her if you were there.”

She shook her head. “I couldn’t…we couldn’t possibly—”

“Your sister needs you, Elain.” It was the truth. Feyre could barely keep her head above water, and she needed her sisters there. 

She took in a small, sharp breath, suddenly listening to his every word.

“There are measures in place for your safety. Your sister has assured it,” he continued, “No one would dare to touch you, and you would be watched at all times.”

She shuddered, wrapping her cloak tighter around herself. “I don’t know.” 

He thanked the Mother that it wasn’t an outright refusal.

“I don’t need your answer today, but will you promise me you’ll think about it?” he asked.

He was willing to do anything—even strike a bargain, if the situation demanded it. All for that one word of agreement to fall from her and her sister’s lips.

“She needs you, Elain. Please tell me you’ll think about it.”

It was all he could hope for. And luckily, he saw the answer in her eyes before she nodded and said, “I’ll think about it.”

***

Present Day

“And I agreed to go, then?” she asked.

They stood beside the old Archeron manor, amongst the walls of the garden.

Ivy and weeds had crept along the abandoned ground, where it proceeded to wither and die in the winter frost. There was a deep sadness to Elain’s eyes as she took it all in—the state of the lands he knew she’d spent hours working on.

“You did. Your sister was struggling, and you wanted to help. Even if it meant crossing the wall.”

Her fingers clutched her cloak tightly—a thick, coarse wool that was made to withstand Velaris’ winters. And her head rotated as made a note of every dying plant, as if she were making a list for herself if she came back here someday.

“I remember now,” she whispered. “Nesta was hesitant, of course, but she relented. Once I reminded her that she’d been willing to go there before.”

Indeed, she’d sent him their answer but a week later, via the charmed paper he gave her before he left. She’d been able to figure out how it worked, even though she’d stared at him blankly when he explained.

That month afterwards had passed quickly, he remembered. Until that cursed day came—the day of Feyre and Tamlin’s wedding.

“One more story for today,” he said, extending his hand to her once more. 

Then they ventured back into Prythian. She took his hand, and he winnowed them into Spring.

The trees stretched towards the sky, towards the warm spring sunlight. And they walked their way through the edges of the forest until they came upon the gates to the manor.

She recognized it. He could tell, from the way she breathed in and looked over the landscape. The gardens that were in the process of being repaired, and the manor undergoing maintenance beyond.

The forefront of the garden was just within view, with white latices lining the tall green walls that formed a small maze around the perimeter.

She paused in the entryway, her hand going slack in his. When he turned to face her, he found that her expression had gone apprehensive, as she took in everything around her.

“Does Tamlin know I’m here?” she asked.

“He has no issue with you. He will not disturb us.” 

He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, before remembering that it was not his hand to comfort. He released it with great difficulty, and motioned for her to step forward.

Elain entered the garden.

***

Past

Elain fit into Spring like she’d always been meant to be there.

He winnowed the three of them directly into the gardens. Her attention was immediately snagged by the sweet honeysuckle that was fading in the daylight, and the bright pink roses, and the lilacs.

The sun reflected off of the sheen of her hair, finding its way into the shadows of the waves that tumbled down her back. A pool of the purest gold—a rival to the pond of starlight, that he wanted to dip his hand into and sip from for all eternity.

She threw her head over her shoulder, and those strands went streaming through the air as she beamed at him. 

And if he had the time, he would have shown her it all, if only to preserve that look of wonder, to keep it safely in a jar where he could look upon it anytime he pleased.

But alas, the day crawled forward. And then he was standing by Tamlin’s side as they waited, his sword weighing down the belt on his side.

Tamlin was itching to pace across the platform, he could tell. The knuckle worth of bourbon Lucien had him throw back earlier didn’t seem to calm his nerves in the slightest.

Before he knew it, the ceremony started.

He watched the scatter of red rose petals on the aisle. In the back of his mind, he recalled it being the one thing Feyre explicitly didn’t ask for. She’d pleaded with Ianthe, telling her no red.

And he might have been a terrible friend for it, but all thoughts of that left his mind as soon as he saw her appear.

Her, in her gown of perfect pink. 

He didn’t realize how mortal she looked until she stood against the backdrop of the faerie lands. Until she was surrounded by foliage that was vibrant and full of life, with some of the blooms equating to almost the size of her face.

Even so, she took his breath away. Her beauty didn’t have a comparison—it was unworldly, both by human and fae standards.

She walked in between the aisles of fae, the color draining from her face as soon as she passed the first row. But she kept her focus trained on him, as her steps brought her closer and closer.

Eyes on me, he tried to say through the look he gave her. She kept it there, the whole way.

And then she was within reach. Eyes of the deepest brown met his from across the aisle, from where he stood next to Tamlin.

Then Feyre turned the corner.

She saw the red roses.

She froze, in the center of the walkway, for a moment too long.

Then, a crack of thunder.

“Hello, Feyre darling.” 

Lucien swore, and without hesitation, pulled Elain right behind his back. His sword was out not even a second later, aimed directly at the source of the threat.

Rhysand, standing directly behind Feyre in the aisle.

“What a pretty little wedding,” he continued, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He strolled forward, unconcerned by the swords that had found their way out of their sheaths, glinting in the spring sunlight.

“Get the hell out.” Tamlin said, his claws already on display. 

“Oh, I don’t think so. Not when I need to call in my bargain with Feyre darling.”

Rhysand’s eyes slid to Nesta. She hadn’t budged, not even when one of the sentries had moved to pull her aside, leaving her standing with her spine perfectly straight at the side of the altar. A brief glance to Elain was all she dared, even though her skin was already ashen and pale, before turning again to face down the most terrifying high lord in history.

And damn him, Rhysand caught that look between them, the corners of his mouth lifting into a half-amused smirk.

To Lucien’s horror, Rhysand’s attention traveled over his shoulder, to the human woman standing behind him. The woman to whom he’d promised that this would be a straightforward affair, certainly with no other high lords deciding that this was the perfect wedding to crash.

Elain’s heartbeat was rapid from where he held her wrist in his hand, like he was trapping the swift wings of a hummingbird between his fingers as it struggled to get free. He stroked over it with his thumb—once, twice, as reassurance that he was here. That he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

“Your human sisters, I presume? How quaint.”

Lucien’s other hand tightened around his sword. “You touch either one of her sisters, Rhysand, and there will be hell to pay.”

He just let out a small chuckle. “As if I would dream of it. You know what I’m here for.” His fingers touched Feyre’s elbow. “Let’s go.”

The rest of it was a blur. Some instinct that he didn’t want to acknowledge had him focusing on Rhys’ feet, and all he cared about was that the male didn’t take another singular step forward.

Towards the woman at his back.

There was nothing he could do to stop him from stealing Feyre away. Nothing he would do. Something instinctual and primal kept him at her side, and in order to preserve any sense of sanity, he didn’t allow himself to look too closely at what it was.

What he would one day come to see as a faint cord wrapping around his heart.

No. He wouldn’t leave Elain’s side for Feyre. And Tamlin recognized that as well, whirling on him as soon as they disappeared.

“You forget where your loyalties are, Lucien.” Tamlin all but snapped the words, his fingernails stretching even further into claws that nearly reached the ground.

“Tam–” Lucien started, but he felt Elain’s flinch as Tamlin transformed into that familiar, large beast, snarling as he made his way into the forest.

The guests had all scattered. It was empty now, save for him, the sisters, and a few sentries that still stood guard.

Lucien sighed, relaxing his tense shoulders at last, and turned to face Elain. 

Faced the pure, undiluted terror that had wormed its way into her expression.

“Well, fuck.”

***

Past

Lucien had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows when Elain found him later that night. 

He was already on his third glass of whiskey, and he was filling them past his second knuckle. He didn’t know what that said about him.

She stopped in the doorway before he noticed her.

“Elain,” he said, a soft tone in his voice.

She was dressed in what those humans called nightclothes—a nightgown that reached high up on her neck and covered her all the way to her ankles, which was underneath a soft blue robe.

Her first few steps into the room were tentative, as she noticed the bare skin to his elbows. He swore a red tint made its way to her cheeks.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she offered.

Her hair was mussed, the waves forming a soft halo around her head. And her eyes…he could see the shadows underneath, even in the faint, flickering firelight from the side of the wall.

He gestured to the seat across from him, and said, “You’re welcome to join me, for a while.”

It didn’t take much encouragement. Her steps were light on the polished hardwood, barely making a sound as she walked towards him. She didn’t sit, instead choosing to lean against the arm of the chair.

“Are you taking us back tomorrow?” she asked.

“Soon,” he promised. “We need to secure your manor first, and once you return we’ll send sentries out for a time. I won’t let the Night Court get a hold of you.”

Her breath hitched at the declaration. She seemed to stare off for a moment, out the window and into the garden beyond, before turning to him.

“Why did that man take Feyre?” she asked.

“Male,” Lucien replied. “Here, we call them males.”

“Oh,” she said. Then, she asked again, “Why?”

He sighed, taking a sip from his glass. “Revenge on Tamlin, if I had to take a guess. He has something that Rhysand doesn’t, and he can’t stand it.”

“Then get her back.”

“Don’t you think I would, if I was able?” he said, hiding his expression as he took a long sip, allowing the bitter liquid to fill his mouth. “Rhys called in a bargain that they made, when Feyre went through her trials. Nothing short of the Cauldron itself can break that bargain.”

There was a beat of silence. “Feyre’s trials?” she asked. “No one has spoken of them.”

He turned the glass in his hand. The whiskey swirled around the edges. “A lot of things happened under that mountain, Elain. Amarantha, or the blight, as you may know it, had your sister go through trials to prove her love, as that wretched bitch called it.”

Elain flinched at his crass words, to which Lucien grimaced.

“Sorry,” he offered. “She broke her arm in the first one. The male you saw, Rhysand, forced her into a bargain to spend one week every month with him in his territory. A week of his choosing.”

“So he’s done this before.” At his confused look, she clarified, “He’s taken her away before.”

“Today was the first time he saw fit to collect.”

“At her wedding,” Elain said, her eyes distant.

“Yes.” He poured more whiskey into his glass, and he told her it all.

How her sister had slain that Middengard wyrm, with nothing but mere bones as a weapon. How he’d watched her cover herself in mud until she was near unrecognizable.

And then the others—where they had both almost died, until Feyre made a lucky guess by pulling the right lever.

When Feyre was forced to plunge those ash daggers into those faeries’ hearts, and Tamlin’s.

“And then,” Lucien said, swallowing. “She died. Amarantha broke her neck, and the high lords brought her back.”

The room went quiet. Tears gently rolled down Elain’s cheeks, and he silently extended his handkerchief. She took it, clearing them away as she dabbed it against her skin.

Elain let out a long breath, bunching her hands together as she cleared the haze that had settled over her deep brown eyes.

“I don’t understand something,” she said. “Feyre loved Tamlin, even when she was human.”

“She did.” She’d loved him enough that she left the safety she had with her sisters, when it would have been better if she ran. “She loved him, even as she had to stab him in the chest.” 

Elain blinked away her shock at the reminder, and looked away to the fireplace. “What was the point, if she was going to die in a few decades anyway?” she asked. “She was human. They were never going to grow old together.”

He’d asked himself the same thing, once.

When he’d watched Jesminda being killed right in front of him.

At the time, he’d wondered what the purpose of all of it was, to fall in love with her only to watch her die, to have her yanked away so soon. He’d been prepared to spend the rest of his life with her, mating bond or no. Even if it took a hundred years to fall into place.

The curse on Tamlin was supposed to be cruel, Lucien knew. What better way to torture him than make him fall in love with a woman he couldn’t love forever.

Although that love, albeit impractical, was the reason they all regained their freedom. 

And, somewhere along the way, Lucien realized that he wouldn’t trade a second of that love with Jesminda for anything. Not even if there were still days where that love ached in his chest.

“There’s always a point to love.” Even if it wasn’t obvious at first. “Even if it’s painful, and we sometimes think we’re better off without it. I think there’s a point to all of it.”

For the first time, he wondered if she had loved, or had been loved. He barely knew her, and already had a taste of how tempting it might be; how easily a man or a male might fall to his knees.

Her hair was like the sweetest honey, and her voice was soothing—melodic as she spoke, and his ears craving to hear every note and cadence.

It would be very easy to love Elain Archeron, he decided.

He stared a few moments too long.

She noticed.

Watching those mortal eyes widen stirred something in him. He willed all the blood in his body to stay exactly where it belonged as she brought a strand of her hair back behind her ear—her round, human ear, exposing the sweet, tender skin of her neck.

Her gaze turned heated, and the flames on the wall grew even stronger. That gaze dipped down to his forearms, still bare and uncovered.

“What are you looking at, Elain?”

Her eyes snapped up, cheeks going red once she realized she’d been caught. 

“I was looking at your drink,” she lied.

He couldn’t help the slight curve of his lips. “Want a taste?”

Her breath caught. But then she surprised him, pushing off of the arm of the chair and walking over. Something about the movement made him forget that he was centuries old; once again, he was a teenager who considered himself lucky that there was a female in front of him.

Elain moved in close to his legs, so close that he was tempted to reach out and touch. He propped his elbow up on the arm of the chair, holding that glass so it was just within her reach.

Her hand plucked it from him, raising it between her lips. She tilted it back, taking a sip of the amber liquid down her throat.

Then she sputtered, coughing into her elbow.

“Oh my word, that was terrible.”

He couldn’t help the chuckle that rumbled through him, “Was it?” he asked, taking the glass back into his own hand. Lucien took another sip, letting his finger run over the glass that her lips had touched. 

“Far worse than the company.”

He dared to use the flirtatious lilt of his voice. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you liked me.”

He reached for the drink cart at his side, making to pour her a glass of water.

The smile she gave him was wicked, one that he didn’t expect from her. “Then it’s a good thing you know better.”

[kitakami-zorua-kin]

//ooc post

Yeah I'm feeling like doing a little... Mini event thing? Anyways I'm giving Russet spring break next week, so uh. y'all get to decide what he's doing based on these... incredibly vague options :3 not a takeover event despite how much i enjoy them, it really is just. what russet will be doing. there will likely be a few offscreen posts related to them and russet will likely mention things on the blog as well. thanks for making my decisions for me because i, mod, am very indecisive

[saltuary]

[ wet ]   your muse  strips  down  to  their  under  garments  and  runs  into  the  water,  motioning  for my muse  to  join  them

The bones of Ered Nimrais broke the horizon into pale shards of silver and cloud. In their indomitable arms, a glade. In that glade, a spring poured ageless music into a basin of stone. Wind, born of peaks older than song, combed through the long grasses and reeds, stirring them to whisper. Here, the scent of cold water, fern, and the crushed sweetness of mountain mint hung in the air, blending with something elusive – the glint of peace hard-won and fleeting.

Faramir stood at the water’s edge, late light gilding him in amber. He had discarded the armour of his station – both steel and solemnity – and now bore only the linen modesty of undergarments, russet curls climbing from waistband to navel. Despite the marks of manhood, he looked younger in this moment, his grief momentarily sheathed. Not the son of a steward, nor the shadow of war, but a man caught in rare pause.

With a suddenness that startled laughter from the stones, he darted – bare foot over moss and pebbled shore – into the crystalline belly of the spring. Water took him in with a hiss and shiver, and he emerged with a breathless laugh, scattering droplets about him.

“Come now!” he called, turning to her – his voice echoing through the glen, a bell rung in joy rather than warning. “Will you not grace this mortal hour with your splendour? I am but a mayfly to you, Ranyasúre – a flicker of thought, gone at sundown. What shame can there be in being seen by one already forgotten by Time?”

His gaze found her where she lingered among the alders. In her bearing was something both ancient and aching, carved from the deep-rooted stillness of the world before men. Faramir watched her as one might clutch a dream on the cusp of vanishing.

Around him the spring rippled, his movement breaking the mirrored sky. He floated there like a fragment of star-fall, arms outstretched to the heavens and Ranyasúre alike. Skin, pale beneath the sun’s touch, gleamed where it caught the light. He did not beckon again, but neither did he look away – his invitation now rendered wordless.

[sarawritestories]

Love Story (All Too Well Chapter 1 Pt 2)

Cassian X OC, Eris X OC

Summary: Under the Mountain, Estella, have flash backs to her 50 years in captivity, and losing hope she will ever see her lover. That is until a human girl shows up and give her and her brother Rhysand something they lost decades ago...Hope and in a matter of mere months she is reunited with the love of her life. The General of the Night Court Armies.

Content Warnings: MINORS DNI 18+ Torture, Dub con, Physical abuse, Under the mountain trials

A/N: Special Thanks to @milswrites and @eve175 for keeping me sane when I wrote this and honestly prevented me from scraping and starting over again!

Also Two post in one day from me! I am on a roll! And probably will be taking a small break 😅😅

All Too Well Master List ACOTAR Masterlist

The sound of Amarantha’s screams was like music to Eris Vanserra’s ears. He watched as Tamlin ripped her to shreds, glancing over to see Estella holding Feyre’s body close to her murmuring something to herself that his fae hearing couldn’t pick up on. The screams ceased and Tamlin walked back to where the young fae princess and the human cursebreaker.

Eris watched as Estella a tear-streaked face looked up at the High Lord of Spring her laced covered chest heaving, “I’m so sorry Tamlin.” She lowered her head in shame, as if this was her fault.

Tamlin lifted Estella’s face to meet his eyes, “This wasn’t your fault. Okay?”

Eris moved toward Amarantha’s mutilated body as he heard Estella let out a sob, “You asked me to protect her I failed.” Eris closed his eyes and rubbed at his chest hoping the ache would dissipate.

Eris looked over at Amarantha’s remains that were mostly ribbons of flesh and found what he was looking for as Tamlin hushed the Princess of Night. “You did no such thing, Stella, now please give her to me.”  Tamlin’s voice was tender as he knelt in front of the female holding his love’s corpse. “Come on, Flower.”  

Romeo Save Me Somewhere We Can Be Alone

Eris looked over at the dais to see Estella, half of her pinned to the back of her head, the rest of her hair had fallen past her breast in soft curls. Clad in a sheer orange gown, the fabric barely covering anything, especially how his high queen had her positioned on Tamlin’s lap. Her legs spread by his thighs, her back pressed against his chest. The Princess placed her hand over the Lord of Spring and Eris noticed his thumb moved over hers and began swiping periodically. As if he was trying to bring her comfort. The heir of Autumn knew those two were friends just never realized how close the pair was.

The red-haired male moved his gaze to the rest of the ballroom, fighting the urge to clench his fist, he caught his brother’s attention. His russet eyes met with a similar pair of Lucien, his metal eye zeroing in on him. The young Emissary of the spring court’s face was impassive though his eyes, held pure resentment. Lucien didn’t let his stare linger on his brother rather it moved to his two friends at the front of the room. Guilt threatened to take hold, but the eldest Vanserra brother forced it down in a box where he kept most of his emotions shutting the lid tight. Another person that he had let down.

“Estella, darling be a dear and entertain us.” Amarantha’s voice drew Eris his attention back to the princess of night. “Dance.”

Estella froze, “Your Majesty?”

Amarantha pinched her chin, “I said dance, has whoring you around my court made you dumb.” Eris gripped the side of his leg tightly as he glanced over to the High Lord of Night, his tanned face a mask of cool indifference, Eris gazed lowered to Rhysand’s hands to find his knuckles were white as a result of gripping the arms of his chair tightly.

“No, Your Majesty,” Estella responded. “Or perhaps you would prefer to give a dance to one person.”

Rhysand cleared his throat, “Your majesty, I would be-“

Amarantha whipped her head, “No.” She looked out to the assembly in the hall. “I will accept volunteers from anyone that is not related to her.”

Eris’s feet moved of his own accord and managed to reach the dais before Lucien could. As he bowed lowed, “Your majesty. Though I have no need for a dance, I would be honored.”

Amarantha’s voice had a jovial lilt to it, “Ah Eris Vanserra. Yes, you have my permission to use her, however, you please. Rise. Claim your whore.”

Eris rose to his full height and walked up to the young heiress. He held out a hand for her, “Come now, Viper.” Estella curled her mouth in a small snarl, though her eyes were vacant, hallow as if she mentally went somewhere else. Though she gripped his hand all the same. He yanked her off Tamlin’s lap and pressed her chest to his. His arm snaked around her waist, his fingertips grazing the bare skin of her hip. Electricity bolted up his arm at the contact though he easily ignored it.

“Estella, how do you thank Eris, for claiming you this evening.” Amarantha prodded; Eris didn’t miss her face contorted in a grimace. Before she looked up her ice blue eyes meeting his warm copper ones, life had returned to her, but Eris could feel her dread, it emulated around her like a shield. Though that didn’t stop her from lifting her hand sliding it up the red velvet embroidered vest he was wearing. Or when her soft, gentle fingers slid up his neck and through the silken strands of his long hair.

She rose on her tippy toes her plump lips inches away from his own, “Thank you, Prince Eris,” Estella closed the distance kissed him. Eris slid his hand up her back, lightly grazing her spine as his hand wrapped around her raven-colored locks and yanked her back hard enough to cause a gasp from the princess’ mouth, giving the Autumn Court Heir access to slide his tongue against her. She tasted as sweet as he hoped she would. His tongue clashing with hers he could have sworn a small moan escaped her throat.

The need for oxygen and knowing that the two had put on enough of a show for their audience, Eris pulled away, with a smirk as Estella opened her eyes her pupils blissed out from their moment. Before he could ask, Amarantha, was waving her hand, “Eris you and your pet are dismissed for the evening.”

Eris bowed, and Estella followed suit, aware that it would expose her backside to the fae standing behind them. Eris placed a hand on the small of her back and led her out into the hall. The two had walked down for a few moments the sound of Estella’s skirt swishing against her skin, her hands clasped in front of her, when she asked, “What do you plan on doing with me, Princeling?”

Exhaustion weighed heavily on the prince’s body, as he sighed, “Sleep, My Little Viper. We’re going to sleep.”

This Love Is Difficult, But It's Real

The whole court ogled around and watched as the High Lords of Prythian dropped a kernel of power on the human girl that saved them all. Eris Vanserra on the other hand watched as his brother held onto the Princess of Night as her sobs softened. He could see Lucien whispering in her ear though from where he stood even his fae hearing wouldn’t be able to decipher. Ignoring the spectacle Eris walked over to one his handmaidens.

She bowed when he approached, saying nothing, he gripped the plump woman’s sleeve and began wiping the blood of the Tiara he grabbed. Once he was satisfied, he turned and walked over to Lucien and Estella. The youngest Vanserra son tightened his hold on Estella when Eris approached. “Relax, brother, today is a joyous day. We can put aside our differences for now.” Lucien growled, “Feel free to hate me again tomorrow.”

Estella’s eyes pierced the Autumn Prince’s and Eris presents the tiara glancing down at the lace covered bodice of her dress that dipped down to her stomach, “I believe this belongs to you, Little Viper.”  He smirked as he met her eyes again. She glanced at his hands and reached out to grab the accessory from him, tearing herself from Lucien’s arms as she did so. Eris took a step back and dangled the tiara above her head, “Allow me.” He motions for his index finger to spin around. She obeyed and crossed her arms, the dark red silk of her dress swirling as she did. Her scent of Ocean mist and Jasmine invaded his nose he fought the notion to bask in her scent, as he placed the tiara on top of her head. Stepped closer and noticed the sharp breath she took as his nose brushed against her ear, “There now you look fit to rule a kingdom, Princess.”

He could hear her heartrate quicken as he took a step away and once more as cheers erupted through the cave. The three of them turned to find Feyre embraced in Tamlin’s arms, ears pointed heartbeat strong and steady. “By the Cauldron.” Lucien whispered and ran up to his friends. Leaving the two alone.

“I have to thank you, Princeling.” Estella’s voice broke the tension.

“For?”

“Giving me brief little moments of reprieve from this nightmare.” Her piercing eyes met his, “I am in your debt.”

Eris was about to dispute it when in a flash arm wrapped around Estella pulling her into a tight embrace, had he not seen the matching raven-colored hair, the heir of Autumn would have prepared for an attack. Rhysand pulled away as if remembering where he had put his hands in his pockets assessed his sister. “Are you hurt?”

Estella turned to Eris only to find he was already gone. She sighed and looked back at her brother. “I’m fine, Rhys.”

He nodded and, in her mind said, The High Lords are meeting to figure out the next steps. I don’t know how long that will take. Then out loud he said, “As your High Lord, I’m demanding you head home immediately and make sure our court held up in our absence.” Estella noticed the hint of a smirk on his face, Tell Cassian hello for me, and that I’ll be home soon.

Estella’s face lit up, she kissed her brother on the cheek, “Thank you, High Lord.” She took a step, looked back toward Lucien and Tamlin. Both males embracing Feyre. Green eyes met hers and with a dip of his chin she bolted and winnowed home.

I’ll Be Waiting

The Summer night breeze kissed her skin as she arrived in front of the town home. Home. She was home. Picking up her skirts she bolted through the front door of the town home. She could hear laughter in the dining room pause when the door slammed shut. Before anyone could get up, she ran into the room. Gasp and fallen utensils were the only thing she heard before, Morrigan her hair in perfect waves and dressed in her signature red gown rose from her seat, her eyes turning glassy. “So, it’s true? It’s over?” She asked.

Estella wiped the stray tears that had begun to fall, “Yeah. Its over.” She croaked as Mor pulled her into a bone crushing hug. “Fuck, I have missed you guys.”

A pair of scarred calloused hands tugged at her bare shoulders, “Don’t hog her, Mor.” Azriel’s deep voice joked as he pulled her into an embrace of his own. He pulled away and she felt the cool kiss of his shadows up and around her body, checking for injuries. He pressed his forehead to hers, “Its good to have your home.” He pressed his lips to her forehead and guided her to a chair. He began to make her a plate of food, as he asked, “Where’s Rhys?”

Estella eyes grew wide with the spread Azriel placed before her. Taking a heaping bite before she answered, she couldn’t help but moan as the warm food met her mouth. The bountiful flavor bursting on her tongue. She looked at Mor, and Az as she swallowed her food and said, “He said there would be a meeting with the High Lord’s about what is going to happen next, no doubt trying to get Amarantha’s” She fought the cringe at the sound of the female’s name coming out of her mouth, “men collected and figuring out what to do with them.”

Amren’s cold calculating voice was a welcome reprieve, “Why didn’t you stay with him?”

Estella turned her head to the female and smiled, “He wanted me to come home, let you know he would be back soon.” Estella, smiled and looked at the table, acutely aware of the empty missing, “Where is he?”

Azriel gave her a warm smile and placed his hand on top of her own his hazel eyes ablaze with warmth and happiness, “He went to the Illyrian camps a few weeks ago. He has been spending a lot of time up there to personally train his soldiers.  He says its to make sure they have the best training we can offer.”

Estella felt guilt bubble in her stomach, “But?”

Azriel’s face fell slightly, his shadows curling around him as a form of comfort, “He had been struggling staying in Velaris for too long. It Reminded him of you and the future you two were planning. He missed you.”

“We all did, Girl.” Amren corrected. Estella’s blue eyes met her swirling silver ones, “Don’t look so surprised. Your quick wit against these overgrown bats was impressive. It was nice to not be the only one with a silver tongue.”

Estella blinked; she couldn’t remember a time when Amren had outwardly complimented her. Though she wasn’t about to question the tiny one’s motives, she went back to shoveling food in her mouth. She went for seconds and cleaned that plate too, Azriel grabbed her plate when she attempted to go for more, “Pace yourself, you’ll make yourself sick.”

“The food was awful down there.” If she got any that was. She didn’t miss the concerned glances from her friends when she arrived. She hadn’t looked in a mirror in 50 years and she was afraid to, terrified at what her reflection might reveal. How badly Amarantha’s abuse taken a toll on her physically as it had emotionally.  Estella met Azriel’s gaze and he gave her a smile, kissing the side of her head. Estella cleared her throat, “Um, I am going to go upstairs and wash up.”

Mor gave her a warm smile, one she never thought she would see again, “Your room has not been touched, your clothes have been routinely cleaned.”

Estella rubbed her chest and the base of her throat fighting the emotion threatening to come up. “Thank you.” 

Azriel cupped her cheek. Stroking his thumb against her cheek, “Welcome home, Princess.”

She wrapped her arms around Az and squeezed him tightly. “I missed you. I never thought I would see you again.”

“Likewise.” He pressed his hand on the back of her head holding her close. “Fuck.” She pulled away at the Shadow  Singer’s expletive and saw that his eyes lined with silver. “I’m just..” He took a deep breath, “I’m just happy to see you.”

“Me too, Az. I missed your face.” He laughed wiping his eyes, as she looked to all three of her friends, “Not a day went by that I didn’t think about you.” The two females rose from their seats and as if they were reading each other’s thoughts smothered the young female into a tight embrace, where she let her tears flow freely.

Home. She was finally, Home.

On The Balcony In Summer Air

The cool night air kissed Estella's skin for the first time in fifty years as she leaned against the balcony the silk of her red night gown doing nothing to prevent the chill, but the female couldn’t bring herself to care. Looking up at the night sky. She couldn't help but smile as tears pickled her pale blue eyes. This is what it felt like:

To be free

"Hello, Sweetheart." The low timbre of a familiar voice elicited a sob to escape her throat. Turning from the view of the city, she met glassy hazel eyes, bruises darkening his tanned skin under them. His wings were tucked back, but his siphons glowed.

She gave him a watery smile, "Hello, General." She covered her mouth to stifle the sobbed. Not being able to contain herself, she leaped into his awaiting arms and legs wrapping around his waist. Burying her face in the crook of his neck.

Cassian's arm held her up by her waist, his free hand pressing the back of her head holding her close, tears streaming down his own face. Estella pulled away and pressed her lips to his.

Cassian pulled away, pressing his forehead to hers, "Welcome home, Estella." And his lips reattached to hers as he took her to their shared bed. Plopping her down on the bed his hazel eyes met her blue ones he swiped a strand of hair from her face.

She cupped her hands against his face, and took a moment to look at him, his eyes had dark circles under them, as if he hadn’t had a good night’s rest in the last fifty years. He had grown out a beard the scruff rough against her skin. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”  She whispered.

Cassian cupped his hand against her cheek, tears spilling down his face. “I’m thinking that you are just as beautiful as the last time I saw you.” He kissed her forehead, “I’m thinking that I can’t believe that you are right here in my arms.” She closed her eyes as he pressed his lips to her cheek. “I’m thinking…” He took a deep breath, and she opened her eyes. “I’m thinking, how I never thought I would see you again. And yet here you are.”

Estella smiled, “Here I am.” She took his hand and placed it over her heart and he closed his eyes as he felt its steady beat. “Cassian, not a day went by where I didn’t wish to be with you. To be in your arms.” Tears threatened to fall but she forced it down. “I missed you so much.”

Cassian shushed her and placed his lips on to hers in a gentle kiss, “It’s okay, Sweetheart, I know. I missed you. More than you could ever know.” He kissed her again, “And just so we’re clear when your brother comes home. I am beating the shit out of him.”

“Cass?”

“Hmm?” He smirked.

She gripped the collar of his leathers and pulled him closer to him, he growled in approval as she whispered on his lips, “Do not say my brother’s name while you’re in my bed.” And she clashed her lips onto his.

Estella ran her fingers through Cassian’s curls as the General was fast asleep on his stomach.  Sliding out of her bed, she opened the drawer of her nightstand, grabbed a piece of parchment, and walked back out onto her balcony. Looking back once more she made sure that Cassian remained asleep as she turned back to the parchment in her hands. Opening the parchment thinking about the author of the note.

Estella awoke back in her cell. The memory of Autumn leaves and cinnamon returning to her.  She adjusted to a sitting position her brows furrowing as she felt something in her palm. Opening the note, her breath quickened as bile threatened to rise as the question, she asked the night before came to the forefront of her mind:

“Then what do you want with me, Princeling?”

One sentence gave her his answer in perfectly neat handwriting.

I want you, My Little Viper.

Estella folded the paper and threw it on the opposite side of the cell. Pulling her knees up to her chest she had to question just how far the Prince of Autumn would go to get what he wants.

Estella sighed, staring down at the swirls of Eris’ handwriting, questions swirling in her mind.  As if she summoned him with her thoughts; a note appeared in front of her. Grabbing the parchment, she unfolded it.

Will you ever truly be free, Little Viper?

Estella glared at the parchment hoping it would erupt into flames. Folding both notes, she walked into her room, placed the notes in her nightstand, and went back to bed. The General of the Night Court’s armies arm pulling her against his chest. Though luscious red hair and russet eyes plagued her dreams.

You’ll Be The Prince and I’ll Be the Princess

After fifty long years Eris, stepped into the familiar room of orange, red and gold hues of his study. Twelve heads perked up as they saw Eris step in. The familiar dark eyes of his hounds perked up and all of them ran to their owner’s side. He bent down on a knee and allowed each of them a total of one lick per dog. Unable to fight the smile from his features of reuniting with his companions. “Hello dear Friends. I have missed you dearly.”   They all swished their tails at the sound of their master’s voice.

Home after Amarantha’s fall, the High Lords met for two days in a row and after sitting in a room with massive egos, it was nice to return home to the quiet of his study.  He walked over to his desk the mountain of paperwork there. He sighed and leaned against his chair closing his eyes, only for the ice blue eyes and raven-black hair plagued his brain. He pressed his hands to his eyes and groaned.

He sat up and removed his hands from his eyes, as an idea began to form. Opening his drawer to find his favorite quill and ink pots right where he left them. Pulling them out along with the stack of parchment. Eris began to write, as soft pink lips and the scent of Ocean Mist and Jasmine lingered in his mind as his quill began swirling across the parchment:

My Sweet Little Viper. My Beautiful Mate.

It’s A Love Story, Baby, Just Say Yes

To Be Continued...

Story tags: @milswrites @eve175 @melsunshine @believinghurts @awkardnerd @historygeekqueen @mischiefmanagers @mybestfriendmademe @cauldronboilmetakemetovelaris @glitterypirateduck @littlestw01f @mal-adaptive-dreams @lilah-asteria @hellodarling1357 @shadowdaddies @bxm-1012 @inkyvelvet @chasing-autumns-chill @ghostwritermia @esposadomd @anuttellaa @slytherintaco @marigold-morelli @saltedcoffeescotch

If I missed someone please let me know!

[florencemtrash]

The Wisp Between Worlds

CHAPTER FOUR: THE FOX AND THE HIGH LORD

Acotar fanfic/rewrite. Inner Circle x OC. Eventual Azriel x OC.

Summary: Have you ever wondered what you would do (and do differently) if you found yourself trapped in the fantasy world of your dreams? For Nora, this fantasy of hers is about to play out when she finds herself portaled away to the Moral Lands south of Prythian. But all is not as it seems. Feyre Archeron is missing and the deadline to break Amarantha’s curse draws near. Who will save Prythian now?

Warnings: None for this chapter 

Masterlist

*Let me know if you would like to join the taglist*

________________

Nora had to endure horseback riding for another hour, sweat dripping down her back and clinging to her clothes, before she finally felt them slow down. The mask slipped off her face like water, dropping to the grass and immediately springing up into a rosebush. 

Nora gasped at the minor display of magic.

The ground was swollen with the blossoms of spring - marigolds, peonies, hydrangeas, lilies, and roses drifting along in a floral sea. Marble fountains of horned and hoofed creatures carrying instruments were carefully laid out in the garden, carved with such a careful hand that when she dismounted and crawled onto the fountain ledge she could make out their eyelashes. 

Nora dared to touch the wrist of a forest nymph who spilled crystal clear water from her jar. She was smoother than freshly waxed glass.

Tamlin’s estate was sprawled out comfortably amidst the vibrant rolling hills, as fat and happy as the bumblebees that drowsily floated from flower to flower. Blood red roses and emerald green vines dripped down the manor’s alabaster walls and turret roofs, pooling beneath the balconies and windows so that anyone who let the wind in would be greeted with their intoxicating scent.

Tamlin made his way towards the manor without a word. 

Nora hurried after him with awkward strides as her knees and thighs re-acquainted themselves with standing on solid ground. She was in desperate need of a bath and rest.

The faint click of Tamlin’s claws on the checkered floors echoed throughout the empty hall. Nora could hardly breathe, worried that the mere sound of her existence would disrupt the wonderment flooding her mind. The black and white marble tiles were polished so thoroughly she caught her reflection looking back at her, dirty and disheveled, and foxgloves hung in bundles from the gilded buttresses, swaying in the breeze like church bells. 

A manor of this size must have had at least one hundred servants to keep it in order, but when Nora strained her ears she was only rewarded with the lonely, echoing silence.

Left at the portrait with the golden bear, right at the next junction with the 6-foot tall elk horn, past the green stained glass windows, then- 

She traced their steps until they reached a set of oakwood doors as tall as the ceiling and thicker than the length of her hand. 

The doors swung open of their own accord, exposing a grand dining room with velvet curtains and a solitary table cut from a tree trunk. 

A fae male sat at the table, russet brown and golden mechanical eyes staring out from behind a fox mask. His hair was as vibrant and warm as a winter fire, offset by his handsome emerald suit jacket and honey-colored skin. The only imperfection he possessed - if it could even be called that - was the scar that dragged through his ruined eye and landed at the corner of his lip like a lightning strike.

Must be Lucien. 

He shot up from the table, golden eye flashing, “Tam, where the hell have you been?”

Tamlin ignored him and made his way around the table. With a flash of light and a groan he collapsed into his rose-engraved chair. Where there had once walked a beast now sat a very beautiful, and very exhausted fae. 

Nora tilted her head to look at him, carefully observing the gold mask that remained frozen in place as he dragged a hand down his face. 

“Tamlin.” Lucien said. He hadn’t noticed the human girl waiting by the dining room threshold, but he was alerted to her presence when Tamlin raised a single finger towards her.

Lucien’s gold eye whirred, the artificial pupil constricting as he turned around and looked at Nora.

“She’s the one that killed Andras?” Surprise and disdain flooded his voice. She was so… human - a poor credit to her species and thin as a reed. He crossed the floor in three strides and glared down at her. She found only disbelief and mild hatred in his face.

He sniffed the air around her and frowned. “She reeks.”

Color flooded into her cheeks, blood turning hot, “It’s almost like I’ve been traveling the last day and a half. Without a meal, might I add.” 

She scowled at Tamlin as he slunk into his seat further and rubbed his temples. Her hunger had flared up with a vengeance on the last leg of their journey and she felt it twist and tug within her. Just because she was used to an empty stomach didn’t mean it felt any more pleasant.

“Go bathe. You can eat after.” Tamiln said with a lazy wave of his hand like she was some dog to be dismissed.

Nora’s scowl deepened. She was hungry now, although she had to admit a bath also sounded heavenly. 

Before she could shoot back a reply a fae slipped into the room from a hidden hallway, bowing deeply to Tamlin before deigning to give Nora a curt nod. This fae was even shorter than her and a female from the looks of her wide hips and soft features, although the gnarled mask of woven branches made it difficult to make out her face. 

She walked to another set of open double doors and clicked her heels together, waiting expectantly for Nora to follow. 

When Nora glanced at Tamlin, it seemed that he’d already forgotten she existed, eyes roaming over the silverware.

You’re a real charmer. Asshole.

Still she followed the female out of the dining room without a fight. She’d save her energy for another day.

“Best to kill her now and be done with it.” She heard Lucien hiss beneath his breath as the doors shut behind them.

The female was ruthless when it came to bathing. Before the bathroom door was even fully shut, she was pulling away at Nora’s clothes with rough, strong hands as callous as tree bark. 

“Wait! No!” Nora grabbed at Dinah’s coat when it was pulled from her shoulders.

“It’s stiff with dust and sweat, child.” The female clicked her tongue, catching sight of the makeshift bandage on Nora’s arm, “And a good deal of blood,” Her voice held the same texture as her hands. “Best to get rid of it.” 

“No.” Nora said. The fae cast a narrow eye at the girl, ancient and impatient, “Please,” She tried again, softening her tone, “It’s the only thing I have from home.”

The girl in front of her could only be eighteen, nineteen at most - young for a human and absolutely fetal for a fae. 

She sighed, “I’ll wash it and return it tonight.” She said from between tight lips. 

The girl deflated with relief, holding onto the ruined fabric for one final moment before she let it pass from her hands.

“...Thank you….” She murmured beneath her breath, grasping for a name.

“Alis.” 

“...Thank you, Alis.” 

The human had more manners that she would have anticipated.

Nora’s face turned bright red when Alis stripped her of her clothes, but the female only clicked her tongue again like one might reprimand a child. 

With the promise that Dinah’s coat would be cared for, Nora let herself sink into the bathtub up to her neck, groaning as the hot water soaked into her skin and eased her aching legs. 

Alis scrubbed away at her skin with honey-scented soap until it turned red and prickled upon touching the air, as though that would remove her human deficiency. But Nora welcomed the faint pain and the sharp nails that scratched without mercy at her scalp and tore away months of hard living. No matter how long she remained in the bath, no matter how clean she became, the water remained clear.

Alis had no shame in nakedness when she pulled the girl from the bath and began rubbing her down in lavender oils and brushed rosewater through her hair. The girl continued to look down at her feet sheepishly, covering parts of herself as Alis went about her business. She had one duty and one duty only - to make the girl appealing enough for the High Lord to court and seduce. Maybe then they’d all be freed from this mess. 

She finished by wrapping up Nora’s arm in fresh linens the same shade as her skin so the wound would be nearly imperceptible beneath the sheer sleeves of her dress.

Nora was delivered back to Tamlin and Lucien like a trussed up turkey - her neat braids complete with green ribbons to match Tamlin’s eyes. She’d been forced into a similarly toned sage-green gown that swished around on the ground behind her.

She twisted her hands together, suppressing the rising disgust in her stomach. These were not clothes she would have picked for herself. These were not clothes that had been made for her - they’d been made for a fae. 

The gossamer sleeves hung past her hands, clearly intended for a creature with longer, more slender limbs. The neckline of the dress similarly dropped too low, exposing much of her chest and leaving her vulnerable and cold.

She wanted Dinah’s coat back. She wanted to sink into the material and slink off into memories of home. Home with Dinah and Jaskiel. Home with her parents. Perhaps Alis’s bath had been a curse - her hard won outer layer seemed to have fizzled away with the lavender bubbles.

The two males froze in their seats, whatever conversation they’d been indulging in forgotten as they took in the sight of her. 

Lucien knocked his elbow into Tamlin’s side, subtly coughing into a closed fist. Tamlin took the hint and stood up, opening his arm towards the empty seat next to him and across from Lucien. 

Nora didn’t want to move. She wanted to disappear into her room and dive into the satin bed sheets that had been calling her name ever since Alis showed her her quarters. Perhaps it wasn’t too late to run. But her eyes narrowed in on the feast laid out before them.

The table was laden with enough food for a holiday party: whole roasted quails smothered in butter with garlic and thyme, fresh baked bread that steamed from the decorative slits cut into the crust, candied oranges piled on a platter next to a moist chocolate walnut cake. 

Nora’s stomach clenched painfully and her hunger won out. 

She awkwardly slid into her seat, dragging layers of tulle behind her. 

When Tamlin leaned across the table and began piling sausages, creamed spinach, bread, and more onto her plate, Nora had to suppress the urge to cringe away.

The bewilderment on her face seemed to please him as he settled back into his seat and began serving himself. Lucien was left to his own devices.

The first bite of honey-roasted walnuts and potatoes hit her tongue, exploding with a taste so bright and powerful she wondered if she had died and gone to heaven. She’d never tasted food so pure and delicious.

Tamlin stared curiously, watching as she slowly lost all sense of propriety and began stuffing her face, but if he was judging her table manners he didn’t show it. 

Lucien coughed, eyes flashing between the pair and Tamlin caught the message, dropping his wine glass onto the table with enough force to grab her attention. 

Her silverware froze above the piece of chicken on her plate, stopping their planned assault. 

Tamlin clenched his jaw, “Your hair…” 

She could see the place where his brain should be trying to formulate a compliment.

“Is clean. And you smell… nice.” He growled out with difficulty.

It wasn’t a lie. Alis had sprayed her down with enough perfume that a blind man would mistake her for a rosebush.

Nora stifled a laugh and Lucien rolled his eyes, bowing his head so that his forehead rested on graceful fingertips.

If Tamlin actually believed she would fall for his half-brained compliment he was proven wrong. Silence settled over them, thick and uncomfortable. 

She didn’t want to speak to them. She didn’t even know how’d she respond. They expected her to be afraid - hell, she was afraid - but she also felt some minor thread of confidence. For the time being she was safe, and she had to make use of that time as best she could to try and prepare for what was coming. Courting a romantic relationship with Tamlin was secondary. For now the best thing she could do was learn everything there was to learn about Prythian and the Human Lands - things that couldn’t be gained by asking too many questions or staying too long at the dinner table.

They must have a library somewhere.

“I would have expected more questions from you.” Lucien commented lazily, pulling Nora abruptly from her thoughts. The wine swished around in his cup, getting dangerously close to spilling over the sides as he narrowed his eyes at the girl, “You’re the first human in decades to step foot in Prythian, and you’re dining with one of the most powerful Hi-”

Tamlin growled in warning, shooting Lucien a glare strong enough to slice through the end of his sentence. 

Lucien cleared his throat, unfazed by the rude interruption, “You’re dining with two powerful High Fae. Surely your little human brain is curious.” 

Nora tapped her foot impatiently beneath the table, mouth twisting to the side in thought. Every parcel of her being was exploding with questions, curiosity threatening to pour out of her skin, but she didn’t want to interrogate them. She didn’t want to play her hand too early if she slipped up and said something she wasn’t supposed to know.

Her silence was mistaken for a resounding no. Lucien sighed as though disappointed but unsurprised, “How typical of humans to think so small.” 

She bristled, her pride wounded and smarting. 

“Excuse my friend,” Tamlin jumped at the opportunity to come to her aid. “He’s not in the best mood right now.” 

“I suppose you know the reason why.” Lucien’s face soured. 

Andras. 

The name hung above their heads.

She had killed his friend. She knew this, but it was too early to apologize for it, as much as she wanted to. So she once again settled for the safe option of staying silent, letting the guilt pool in her stomach and steal away her appetite.

“What exactly am I doing here? What do you want from me?” Nora asked carefully. It was a safe question - an obvious question, “Shall I sweep the floors? Wash the laundry? Be a punching bag for your thinly veiled insults?” She aimed the last question at Lucien and he had the kindness to at least look ashamed of his comment. 

“You are not a prisoner here.” Tamlin said gruffly. Nora raised her eyebrow. “What I mean is, you are here to fulfill the Treaty’s exchange - a life for a life. Apart from that you have no duties. Walk the grounds, explore the manor, or leave my court entirely. I do not care.” 

You most certainly do care. I know you care. 

“But the moment you step foot outside Prythian the deal is off. There will be no protection for you or your family.” 

“Your court?”

Tamlin froze, teeth clamping down on his tongue until he tasted blood. Lucien simply wanted to crumple to the floor in exasperation. It hadn’t even been a full day and Tamlin had already let slip his identity. He saw her mind stir, eyes fidgeting around the room as she put the pieces together. If he wasn’t mistaken, he even saw laughter behind her eyes.

“That’s what you said, isn’t it? You’re not just some high fae, you’re a High Lord.” 

“Yes.” He gritted out. His knuckles had turned white.

She thought for a long while before hesitantly asking, “So I truly may do as I wish here? You won’t kill me?”

“Yes, and no.”

Tamlin sensed the hesitation in her body before her scent slowly shifted to hope and curiosity. She’d have the run of the manor and for the first time since coming to this world she’d have access to books and music and good food.

Images of Dinah and Jaskiel flashed through her mind: Jaskiel limping to his chair after a long day of scribbling out sums in exchange for pennies, Dinah coming home with raw hands after hours of lime washing a local lord’s floors. Older images that she had buried in her heart also rose to the surface: Mom and Dad setting up the table for three before realizing she wouldn’t be coming home, Mom and Dad taking the long drive around town so they wouldn’t have to pass by the boardwalk. 

This manor was but a beautiful prison, and Nora had so far been treated like a doll to be dressed up and seduced by an incompetent Tamlin. She was painfully aware of it… and yet… it was a better life than the one she’d left behind. At least here she would not starve. At least here she would no longer have to worry about when the money would run out. 

If she asked for books or jewelry or dresses or anything else her heart desired Tamlin would jump at the chance to make her fall in love with him. 

It made her feel guilty.

“And my family?” The weight of her words, the sincerity of them, tempered Lucien’s distaste for the girl who’d murdered his friend.

“I promised you before they’d be taken care of.” Tamlin said.

“But what does that mean?” Nora splayed her hands on the table, hating that her previous excitement over material things had outshone her longing for her home, “What does it mean that you’re taking care of them?” 

Lucien leaned back in his chair, watching her quietly. She wasn’t what he’d been expecting. He’d expected her to blaze through the manor like a hateful and seething flame. Instead she was more like a firefly in a jar - constantly buzzing and flickering with thoughts and emotions that she tried to trap within herself. He didn’t know how to make sense of her.

Tamlin sighed, hands gently folding in front of him. Something like sympathy peered out from behind the mask.

“Dinah and Jaskiel think your family - your real family - found you and sent for you to be brought back to the Continent. I crafted a final memory of them seeing you off on a carriage with your very wealthy aunt.” 

Nora stilled, tears beginning to gather in her eyes as Tamlin continued. 

“I’ll be sending money to them every month on behalf of your “real” family as thanks for protecting and caring for you. It will be more than enough for them to live comfortably without having to work.” 

“Did you… did you really?” She whispered softly.

“I swear on my life and my court.” Tamlin assured her.

She laughed without humor, brushing away the tears that had spilled onto her cheeks. Perhaps now the villagers would really believe that she was a foreign-born royal. 

“That’s a very good lie you came up with.” Nora muttered with disdain. The chair screeched along the floor when she stood up abruptly, and no one stopped her as she disappeared out the door.

“Well I think that went well.” Lucien said with a grimace. He downed the wine to its last bitter dregs.

Tamlin’s low growl followed Nora as she half-stumbled her way back to her room.

When she finished untangling herself from the wretched dress and sank beneath the covers, she finally allowed herself to cry. 

Tamlin had crafted such a perfect and necessary lie. Dinah and Jaskiel would be able to rest easy believing she was with her true family, but Nora would have to live with the truth. 

She was now utterly alone.

>>>

The chirping birds, obnoxious and hormonal, woke Nora up just in time to see the sun crest over the hills. The moment her heels hit the marble floor Alis snuck in, a pile of dresses stretched out in her hands.

“Good morning.” Alis said, her voice curt as she spread the dresses on the bed, “Which would you like to wear today?”

“I get to choose my dress?” Nora blinked the sleep out of her puffy eyes. 

“Yes, child. You get to choose your dress.” 

Nora said little as Alis fussed with her hair, tying it back in a simple braid before ushering her to the bathroom to deal with her tear-stained face. 

The dress Nora selected was simple - an ankle length riding gown paired with a deep blue vest and short boots. Alis tried not to display her displeasure as Nora dressed herself haphazardly. After a long, dreamless night she was ready to escape her room and find some secret corner of the manor to hide in - preferably in the library. 

Thoughts and plans for the day raced through her head as she followed Alis’s quick footsteps to the dining room, memorizing the path once more.

The frown was clear on her face when she saw Tamlin and Lucien crowding the breakfast table. Alis nudged her forward, unsticking her feet from the floor with a sharp jab to the center of her back. 

“How did you sleep?” Tamlin asked as she settled down and stabbed at a sausage. The faster she ate, the faster she could leave.

“Terribly.” 

“How unfortunate.” Lucien said, decked out in a riding uniform of his own. The deep green jacket was overlaid with gold-plated steel, as functional as it was beautiful. A pearl-handle knife the color of bleached bone was sheathed comfortably across his chest, a matching sword resting against the table as he ate.

Tamlin was similarly armed, but his weapons looked more decorative. After all, how much good were weapons when he could transform into a near unkillable beast at any moment. When the light hit his skin at certain angles, Nora could almost see the skin of the creature beneath, unyielding and impenetrable. 

He caught her staring at the glimmering badges pinned to his coat.

“Lucien and I have business to attend to today,” he said, answering her unspoken question, “You may do as you wish. If you require anything you may ask the servants.” 

Nora frowned at the word - servant, how archaic - and looked around the empty hall. They lurked about somewhere, moving through the estate unseen to her eyes. Were they watching her now? Were they waiting for a moment to report her odd behavior to Tamlin? 

That was the first thing she’d have to fix. There would be no way for her to sneak around undetected if she couldn’t even see who she should be hiding from. Thoughts of the Suriel flashed through her mind, her fingertips rubbing together as she flipped through the pages of a phantom book and imagined what information she might be able to sink her fingers into. 

“I assure you, you are safe here. My people won’t harm you in any way.” Nora snapped her head up, grateful that he’d mistaken her scheming for worry. 

“You promise?” a hint of surprise and hope slipped into her voice.

“I promise.” Tamlin said, nodding his head fervently. He ignored the dampness of his palms and pushed down the revulsion he felt at being reduced to this. He was one of the most powerful creatures in all of Prythian, perhaps in the entire world, and he needed to resort to courting a human to protect his people. The thought made him feel weak, lesser. He hadn’t wanted to send his men out to their deaths in the woods. With every friend he buried he could feel a bit of himself chipping away and landing beside their graces. 

He was desperate, and he would resort to this measure in his desperation.

“And I may go anywhere? Do anything?” 

Tamlin’s lips curled back in a feline grin, catching the light that sparked to life in her eyes. “Within reason.” 

Lucien snorted, “How much damage do you intend on doing, human?”

As much as possible.

“None.”

He snorted again, half-amused at her blatant lie.

“Where’s the library?” Nora stood up abruptly when she finished eating, not waiting to be dismissed from the breakfast table.

“The library?”

“Do you not have one?” She asked, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

Tamlin’s anger flared up like a gasoline fire. Lucien shot him a warning glance, standing up lightly and tilting his head towards the left before his High Lord could say or do anything he might regret.

“We have the most beautiful library you will have ever seen. Tamlin can show you the way, can’t you Tamlin?” 

“I can find it myself.” Nora snapped. She didn’t want company, only to disappear for the day, “Just give me the directions.”

“It’s a very large manor. We wouldn’t want you getting lost.” Something told her Lucien wanted nothing more than for her to ride off into the woods and never come back.

“I’ll ask whoever is around if that happens.” She said quickly, itching to find her escape. 

Mercifully, Tamlin didn’t press her to accept his company. 

He’d barely finished giving her the directions before she was flying out the side door, skirts shifting in the spring breeze like a ghostly afterimage. 

There was work to be done and plans to be made.

________________

Taglist: @myheartfollower @impossibelle @chybay22 @lahoete

Author's note: I struggled writing this chapter so I apologize if it's slow, but I'm just going to post it anyway so I can continue on to chapters I have more fleshed out plans for. Who knows, maybe I'll actually write down an outline for this fic instead of holding it all in my brain 😅. I hope you all have a lovely weekend.

[megarywrites]

Hi! For the bard ask game: Drum, Candlelight & Tavern? I hope you're having a lovely day/night!

~ @mxxnlightwriting

hi! thank you, and I hope you're having a good day/night too!

drum | share an exciting snippet or talk about a scene that you're excited to write?

something that I'm really looking forward to rewriting is coming up in the next part of Seafoam — Thala's first murder. It's a very emotional moment for her in more ways than one (look at me, stating the obvious lmao), and it's like a secondary inciting incident for the rest of the story. I've still got a little while before I get to it in the 2nd draft, but here's a little bit of it from the first draft:

He was already dead—he had to be—but I kept stabbing him. For me. For the other girls. For [redacted]. Arms wrapped around me, pulling me off of his corpse. Screams filled the captain's quarters. Whether they were my own or not, I wasn't quite sure. I started slashing at the hands holding me with what was left of my precious shard until it was ripped from my hand and I was dragged out onto the quarter deck. So, I started biting. Fingers, arms hands. Teeth gnashing and grinding on skin until I was dropped onto the deck in a tangle of limbs and blood. It took four of them to subdue me with how much I was kicking and scratching and biting.

candlelight | share a gentle snippet or talk about a favorite scene that you've written?

to completely contrast the above question lol the chapter that I'm gonna be working on as soon as I post this will be a very gentle the whole way through. For a bit of context, in the previous chapter, Thala and Solera have snuck out to go visit Thala's mom (because she hasn't been answering Thala's letters) and they discover that her mom is very sick. The chapter I'm on atm is them heading back to the latridom and the aftermath of finding Mitapi like that. Again, since I technically haven't written it yet, here's my absolute favorite very soft Thalera moment that will be officially rewritten at some point today (hopefully)

She patted her lap, and I succumbed, scooting down so I could rest my head on her thigh. Her fingers were immediately in my hair, massaging my scalp gently. As much as I tried to, I couldn't tear my gaze away from her. The soft, flickering light from the lantern between our beds painted shifting shadows over her face. It caught on her eyelashes, on the sculpt of her lightly-freckled cheekbones. Where the light settled, it set her dark, russet complexion aglow. It gleamed in her loose curls, along the curve of her full lips. And, when her gaze met mine, the reflected flame danced in her dark eyes. She was truly the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, and would ever see, in my life. My lips parted to say as much, but when her attention fell to them, I had forgotten how to speak. She licked her lips and let out a quiet little sigh, breaking the spell of the lantern light.

tavern | do you have any cozy settings (or, if non-cozy, favorite settings) in your world?

I do have a few fairly cozy settings in Seafoam (if we're talking all of Dracrie, then absolutely, but I don't want to get into that here lol)

Obviously, Thala and Solera's room (in the above snippet) in Katania is as cozy as it can be, considering. Another really cozy setting for them is happening in the third part of Seafoam where they take their bedding and spend the night up in a room made entirely of stained glass. Chitrenikos, while underwater, will have it's cozier moments, especially in this rewrite, because I'll actually have the space to describe it lol, and so will Tinua Springs (a location that Thala will be at in the final parts of Seafoam) to a certain extent.

Thala's hometown of Psari is hopefully on the cozier side. It's very small-town coded, which is both a blessing and a curse. I like how quaint it is compared to the capitol (Aspyra). And the Galanis' home, too, is as cozy as it can be, considering lol

send me bard-themed asks?

[admiralsweko]

Rhyiona Week 2023 Day Five

Prompt: Legend

Cross My Heart

You, I can make you love me

Even when I take it all -- Always by Great Good Fine OK

He’d heard the stories. They echoed in his ears, even now, as he delved deeper into the woods. According to the tales Rhys had known most of his life, somewhere deep in this forest lay a spring, a wonder to behold and rumored to be the home of a nymph. It was said that kings and paupers alike used to visit the sacred site, offering any and all for a single boon.

Now, he was making the journey. 

Lost in thought, he fingered the patch over his left eye idly. He prayed that the stories were true. He had spent the last of his meager savings in an effort to track down this legend. Pulling his compass from the pocket of his doublet, he confirmed he was still headed in the correct direction. A short time later, he came upon his destination. 

Nature had reclaimed the marble columns that arched majestically around the perimeter of the little clearing, draping the solid white stone with choking green vines. Stepping around a toppled-over pillar, he surveyed the area. Bathed in sunlight streaming in from a break in the dense tree canopy overhead, the spring was an oasis of natural beauty. Patches of scarlet wild flowers dotted the thick carpet of grass underfoot, even sprouting in the cracks between the moss spotted boulders that lined the cerulean waters of the spring.

“Hello?” He called out, not truly expecting an answer. None came. 

Sliding his pack from his shoulder, he crouched to dig inside the leather bag. From it, he withdrew the items necessary to complete the summoning ritual. 

Atop the flat surface of one of the rocks, he laid out the assortment: a small sachet, a pair of old coins, and a scrap of paper. With trembling fingers, he untied the knot that held the sachet closed. Spreading the leather out, a grim menagerie of objects were disclosed. He flinched at the sight of the tiny bird skull amid the dried herbs, fine powdery ash, and other small bones he hoped were of animal origin. Carefully, he placed the two coins on top, mindful the king’s bust faced downward as the witch that had set him on this path had strictly instructed.

He pulled his dirk from the sheath at his hip. Taking a deep shuddering breath, he steadied himself before slicing into his palm. He winced as the sharp edge of the blade bit into his skin with ease and hot, red blood welled quickly. His dripping hand hovering above the coins, he recited the words scrawled on the paper. 

The ritual complete, he looked around expectantly, but found he remained alone. With a defeated sigh, he shook the excess blood from his wound and leaned forward to rinse it off in the waters below. 

I should have known better, he admonished himself. Only a fool would go off chasing fairy tales. 

As he dipped his hand into the cool liquid, something wrapped around his wrist. Shocked, a startled sound escaped him and he tried to withdraw, taking whatever it was with him. 

Encircling his wrist was a delicate hand, slender feminine fingers with nails tipped in turquoise color. Unbelieving of his own eyes, he watched dumbstruck as a woman emerged gracefully from the depths of the spring. Water streamed down her body, splashing back into the pool with a melodious chime. Half submerged, she was a vision unlike anything he’d ever seen before.

Clothed in a swath of damp fabric, it draped artfully along her curves. Her bare skin shimmered, the water droplets clinging to her reflecting the sunlight. Long russet-colored hair lay over one shoulder, shot through with a fiery red streak of a similar shade to the wildflowers that grew nearby. Sparkling emerald eyes gazed at him. 

“My, my,” she spoke. “What do we have here?” 

She took in the bloodied display of items still laid neatly atop the rock. Her eyes met his once more and she raised a scarred brow. A soft smirk graced her ruby lips. Her voice was like music as she said, “This is some old magic for such a young thing like you.” 

“I– I–” he struggled to formulate a response. His mouth opened and closed as his brain stalled. “I came to see you,” he blurted.

A gentle tinkle of laughter escaped her as her smirk melted into a genuine smile. “Oh, sweetling. If you wanted me this badly, all you had to do was call upon me. Aww,” she cooed, her attention turning to the open wound sliced across his palm, ”Now you’ve gone and hurt yourself.” 

Belatedly, Rhys realized she still held his wrist in her grasp. He watched as she raised his hand to her lips and planted a soft kiss to his cut. When their eyes met again, his heart skipped a beat. Transfixed by her emerald gaze, time spun out, a moment stretching into eons. Distantly he was aware of a tingling sensation that zipped along his wound and up his arm. Tearing himself away from her bewitching stare, he withdrew his hand from her gentle grip, took a step back, and glanced down to see his cut had fully healed. A faint thin seam of a scar was the only indication it had been there at all. 

“Now, seeing as how you’ve gone to so much trouble to summon me,” she came forward and leaned against the rocks lining the edge of the pool. Propping herself up against the flat ledge of a boulder, she rested her chin in her palm and looked up at him with expectant amusement, “What brings you here?” 

“Uh, Um, of course,” he shook his head in an attempt to straighten his scattered thoughts. “M– M’lady, I, um, wanted— If it pleases you–” Out of his element, he stuttered over his words, “ I-I’ve heard tales of your generosity and I seek to implore upon your benevolence.” 

“Ah, but it has been quite some time since anyone has come to beseech me,” she said brightly. “Tell me. What can I do for you?”

Nervous, Rhys cleared his throat before explaining, “There is a maiden in my town. She has come of marriageable age. I seek to ask for her hand, but her father is a wealthy man. A merchant tradesmen of some repute. I fear he would not be impressed by my meager offerings, if I were to approach him now. Hence, I’ve traveled here to…” he trailed off, apprehension gnawing at his insides. Speaking his words out loud, he realized how fatuous it sounded. 

“You’ve come to me,” she filled in, “in hopes of a significant boon that might sway this man to see you as a choice candidate for his daughter's hand. But is this a question of love,” she asked, tilting her head inquisitively. “Do you care for this maiden?” 

“I’m not certain I understand,” he flushed at the inquiry, unsure as to how to answer. “What difference does it make?”

Her lips twisted into a strange smile. The expression vanished as quickly as it had appeared. She shrugged, “Truthfully, it matters not. I am just a curious creature.” A knowing look settled upon her graceful features. ”But no doubt this betrothal would benefit you greatly, with more than just a pretty wife?” 

“Y-Yes, my lady,” he admitted reluctantly. “If I were to succeed in this advantageous match, my limited prospects in life would broaden, that is true. So will you help me?” 

She was silent for a moment as she mulled it over. Her eyes narrowed as she searched his face. 

“Wait here,” she bade him before disappearing under the surface of the water. Left alone, he nervously awaited her return. 

She resurfaced once more, putting forth a cupped palm. Nestled in her hand was the largest pearl Rhys had laid eyes upon. Black in color, it shone with a hypnotizing iridescence.

“This should serve to impress your maiden’s father,” she said with a smirk.

Rhys nodded mindlessly as he reached out to take the shimmering pearl.

“Ah, ah,” she admonished, closing her fingers and pulling away. “If you’ve heard tales told of me, you will know that I don’t offer anything out of the goodness of my heart. What do you propose to exchange for this courtesy?”

“Of course, my lady. My apologies.” 

He hastily patted at his pockets before remembering the pack at his feet. He bent to it and withdrew a small velvet pouch. Loosening the drawstring, he unfolded the cloth to reveal a delicate filigreed hair comb of fine wire, studded with small sparkling stones. 

“This was my late grandmother’s,” he explained. “Although not valuable in coin, it is of great sentimental worth to me. It is all I have to offer.” 

“Hmm,” she pondered, her eyes on the comb. Anticipation quickened the drum of his heart. “Yes, I believe this will suffice.”

Relief washed over him, immediately followed by a heady sense of excitement. They exchanged their goods; Rhys taking the pearl into the velvet sachet recently vacated by his grandmother’s comb. Wrapping it up, he tucked the treasure into his pack.

“Thank you, my lady,” he nodded respectfully, desperately trying to keep his excitement hidden under the veneer of manners.

“The pleasure was mine,” she said, “And please, call me Fiona.” 

“I’m honored to have met you… Fiona.”

“And what, pray tell, is your name, most intrepid sir,” she asked, a chuckle in her tone.

“Rhys, uh, my name is Rhys.” 

“Ah, Rhys," she smiled beatifically, her face lighting as she spoke his name out loud, “That’s lovely. Well, I wish you good fortune with your impending engagement.” 

With a wave of her hand, she slipped soundlessly beneath the surface of the water once more. 

()()()

Stumbling through the underbrush, Rhys panted as he came upon the spring. 

“Fiona!” he bellowed the nymph’s name angrily. Despite the week’s span that had unfolded since his disgrace, the bitterness was still fresh. Every step he’d taken on his journey back to this oasis further reminded him of the rube he was and the rebuff he had suffered.  

He called out once more, his hands at fists by his sides. 

“Well, hello again, Rhys.” In the space of a blink, she pushed up from the watery depths,  appearing even more captivating than he remembered. “I can’t say I expected–”

“You played me for a fool,” he interrupted her. Pulling the small velvet sachet from his pocket, he opened it. Inside, the great shining pearl he’d so admired had transformed into a damp, shiny brown lump. He cast aside the offending mass against the rocks of her pool, where the thick clump of wet mud splattered along the side of a boulder. 

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded. “Do you realize what you’ve done?”

“I suppose the proposal didn’t quite go as planned.” Amusement danced in her eyes. 

“I was humiliated. Alyssandra’s father laughed in my face when I asked for her hand.” Defeat rounded his shoulders. “She’s– she’s been betrothed to another.” 

“Alas, it was for the best, I imagine. You didn’t want to marry that girl,” she stated matter-of-factly ”No matter the advantages such a match might have presented, I saved you from a lifetime of boredom."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed resignedly. His anger ebbed away in the face of the truth. As much as he was loath to admit it, she was right. The memory of the half hour he’d spent in the company of the dull-witted young woman he’d so bent on marrying haunted him. 

“I suppose you want me to thank you, then,” he said sarcastically. “For your good deed?” 

An imperious smirk graced the nymph’s beautiful face. “A little gratitude would be welcomed.”

Unable to contain his exasperation, he rolled his eyes. “I’ve returned to retrieve my grandmother’s comb. Let’s have it.”

“No,” she flatly refused. Her hand reached up to the comb nestled in her hair behind her ear, fingers tracing the little glass stones tenderly. “The deal was struck. You received your boon. It matters not if you were unsatisfied after the fact. I, on the other hand, am quite pleased with our trade.” 

“But you tricked me!” he snapped, irritation spiking once more. 

“That’s a harsh way to put it,” she admonished playfully. “In the end, our trade was a barter for objects of equal value. I was merely less forthcoming as to the quality of my item as you were of yours.”  

“Fine,” he scoffed, outmatched. Frustrated at her arrogance, he threw his hands up and turned to leave.

“Rhys, wait,” she called out, causing him to hesitate. “I’m not completely heartless. Since you’ve come all this way, perhaps we can broker another exchange. Perchance for something more appealing than some silly girl’s favor or a worthless trinket?”

Everything within him screamed that he should continue on his way and forget this place even existed. But he found himself turning to face her once more. 

“What could you possibly have to offer me after all this,” he implored wearily, gesturing to the muddied rock. 

“Your eye.”

Instinctively, he reached up, his fingers brushing against the smooth leather of his patch. Her unexpected overture gave him pause. 

“How can I be assured that you won’t trick me again?”

“You can’t,” she stated plainly, “You’ll just have to trust me. But what have you got to lose?”

He was silent for a moment as he pondered that fact. Finally, he asked, “What would you want in exchange?” 

“Ah, therein lies the real question, my dear,” her head tipped as she lifted a brow. “What can you offer me?” 

He raised his hands in surrender, “Alas, I have nothing of any importance to give. As you know, I am a poor man, in coin and title.” 

“I don’t want your coin, boy,” she scoffed, “What good would coin do me, out here in these wilds?” She extended her arms to take in the expanse of forest that surrounded them. “No,” she shook her head as that honeyed smile quirked her lips once more. “I want something you haven’t given another soul.” 

Despite himself, his curiosity stirred, tempered by a fair amount of caution. “And what, pray tell, could that be?”

“All in due time,” she laughed merrily. “First, that eye of yours.” 

She dove beneath the surface of the pool. Rhys waited, his anxiety telling him to turn tail and run. Before he could heed his better judgment, however, she resurfaced. In her hand, she held a small clay salve pot. She tossed it to him and he caught it. 

“Apply that to your eye every night before sleep. It will give you wicked dreams but by the time the salve is gone, you will have sight in your eye once more.” 

“Th–Thank you,” he said, hesitantly as he tucked the little pot in his pocket. “Now, what do you want in return?”

“Come closer,” she beckoned.

She glided up to the rocky perimeter of the spring and leaned out over the flat surface of a boulder. From her perch, he could glimpse translucent patches of iridescent scales that shimmered in the sunlight along her skin, revealing her true nature. Confronted with this reminder that he was dealing with no ordinary woman, his eyes narrowed as he held his ground.

“Come, come,” she urged him forward, curling a finger at him.

Cautiously, he stepped closer to the edge of the pool. Still she beckoned him lower, until finally he dropped to one knee before her. Now, face to face, her eyes sparkled mesmerizingly. The sweet smile on her lips soothed his wild nerves.

“What is it that you require in return?” he asked again softly. 

“Just a kiss,” she replied, the very picture of enchanting innocence. 

Confused, his brows pulled together for a moment. “But I thought you desired something I had never given another,” he reminded her. 

“I do.”

Amusement suffused him and he smiled. “This may surprise you, my lady, but I have given a kiss before.”

“I have no doubt as to your prowess with fair maidens,” she said sardonically, “but a kiss is what I require.” 

Puzzled by her request, he searched her expression for any hint of subterfuge. She gazed back at him guilelessly. 

Finally, he conceded, “As you wish, my lady.” 

He leaned forward slowly. As the space between them shortened, he watched her intently, wary of any treachery. With none forthcoming, he proceeded to press a soft, chaste kiss to her lips. He was withdrawing quickly when she grabbed a handful of the front of his doublet, halting his progress. 

“Hmm,” she hummed skeptically. A wicked gleam shone in her gaze. “I think we can do better than that.” 

Before he could react, she pulled him in again. His eyes widened as she kissed him fully. Her lips were cold against his, a sensation he hadn’t registered on that initial contact. She brought her other hand to his cheek, the chill making him gasp in shock. In great contrast, her tongue was hot as it slipped into his mouth, a warm, slick caress that shook him to his core. 

Instantly bewitched, he was completely at her mercy. His eyes drifted closed as he yielded to her. Sensing his surrender, she retreated and nipped at his lower lip. The unexpected scrape of her teeth against that sensitive surface drew a hushed grunt of pleasure and surprise from him. Quickly, she ran her tongue over the nibble, soothing as well as coaxing him to meet her advancement. Enticed, he obeyed, uniting with her once more in a velvety harmony that set his blood aflame. With every thunderous heartbeat, he succumbed even further to the torrid, wet magic of her kiss. It was true, he had been kissed before, but the memories of those hasty or hesitant exchanges melted away in the feverishness of this connection. 

When she finally relented, he found himself panting for air like a drowning man. Still holding him close, she pressed her forehead to his and laughed breathlessly. “I’d say that’s a good start.” 

“For–for what?” he asked, his thoughts still scattered. 

“Oh, my dear sweet Rhys,” she purred his name, causing the hair on the nape of his neck to stand. “You see, this kiss wasn’t my payment. At least, not in full.” She looked him deeply in the eyes as her thumb brushed against his lips. Her other hand unclenched from his doublet, her palm spreading flat against his chest. “For your end of the bargain, you have to give me your heart.” 

“My-My what?” Crashing back to his senses, he was horrified. Quickly, he pulled away from her. In his haste,  he lost his balance, landing on his rear with a thud. Gaining his feet, he stumbled away, trying to put distance between them. 

“Don’t be so alarmed, sweet one,” she chuckled. “I speak only figuratively. I intend you no harm.”

“Wha–” he scrambled to understand, “What is the meaning of this?” 

She shrugged as she smiled that wicked grin, merriment shining in her eyes. “A goddess is only as powerful as when she is worshiped, Rhys. And it hurts to be forgotten. This ensures you’ll never forget me.” 

“ But– But how does one kiss equal my heart?” he demanded. 

“As I said, darling, it’s a start.”

Pushing away from the rocks and into the water, she lengthened herself out to float along the surface of her pool. Arms lazily stroking through the clear blue waters, she was the embodiment of carefree elegance. 

Head tipped back, she looked to the sky as she continued, “Soon, you will find I am always in the back of your mind. Your body will ache for my touch, your lips will yearn for my kiss. No matter where you go, you will long to return to me.” 

“Folly,” he spit out the word. Rekindled anger burned hot in his stomach. “I don’t know what your aim is, but I can assure you I have no intention of ever setting foot in these woods again.” 

Resolute in his conviction, he spun on his heel. 

“You’ll be back,” she sang out behind him. Her delighted laughter sounded musically in the air. 

Outraged, he rushed headlong into the surrounding forest. He rubbed the rear of his hand against his mouth in a vain attempt to scrub the events that had just unfolded away as he tried to reject the notion of her words from his thoughts. 

There was no truth to her proposition, he reassured himself. It’s all just the mad contrivances of a nefarious sprite bent on toying with me.

Even as he repeated the conviction endlessly, a seed of dissent blossomed in the back of his mind. The remembered warmth of her kiss burned like a fire across his nerves, the heady rush of her tongue as it tangled with his own lingered. Hopelessly vexed, he desperately pushed down the bittersweet memory of her lips against his and hurried on his way.