flamesofday

[flamesofday]

Lucien can feel her ire, and he wonders if its purposeful or simply a slip through their bond. He'd gotten under her skin, truly. Not just surface level avoidance, for once, it felt as if Elain truly had feelings towards him. Even if they weren't positive. It had to count for something. Elain approaches, every bit of looking like a scorned female. Lucien should count himself lucky, Cassian may have actually saved him. Real. She keeps using that word as if this isn't tangible between them.

His head tilts as she approaches, he hadn't braced himself and the influx of her scent has his head spinning. Would he try this hard if they didn’t have the bond? His hands flex at his sides, jaw clenched so tightly it aches. Yes. He would of, and that's what so damning about it all. “Elain,” he says through gritted teeth, “you really think I’m doing this just because the Cauldron told me to?” In part, yes. He would of accepted her, would of been a good mate. But this? Now? It was something else. It was real, it was yearning, it was torement to know he'd never make her smile, or hear her laugh. The last two years have taught him one thing. Elain Archeron is a forced to be reckoned with. One he wanted. And one momentary lapse in his judgement, a slip of two fucking words, and she's written him off.

His eye flashes, not with cruelty, but something hurt. Something furious in how much he wants her to understand in the jumbled mess of words he's laid out. “Do you think I enjoy being strung along? Pushed away? Looked at like some stranger who doesn’t belong in your world?” He scoffs, sharp and bitter. “Because I have tried. Is it you personally throwing away my letters or am I not good enough for even that? I’ve stood here—again and again—while you questioned every reason I might care about you, and I’ve never once said the thing I’ve wanted to say.”

He steps closer, towering now, but it’s not menace, it’s emotion. Raw. Unrelenting. “You ask if I’d be trying this hard without the bond?” His hand finds her waist, tugging Elain until she's against his chest. Without thought, no reason simply just to prove that he does feel, he is not unaffected by her, or this. “Elain, even if there were no bond, even if you were just some stranger across a room, I would still look at you and think you’re the most beautiful female I’ve ever seen. I’d still catch myself staring when you make some wicked, clever remark because I like the way your mind works. I’d still notice the quiet kindness you think no one sees, the way you care for everyone in the Night Court without so much as a thank you for making them fucking dinner." A breath, "I’d still find you captivating.” Lucien breathes it like a confession, like the truth might set fire to his very lungs. Maybe it already has, because something in him feels like it's burning from the inside out. At some point, his hand has risen to cradle the back of her neck, fingers threading through her hair. His head dips closer, and all he can think is that he's going to burn for her.

She has to tilt her chin to meet his gaze, and mother above, he likes that. His mouth quirks, the heat in his voice tempered by something smug, something fond and entirely Lucien. “Careful, Elain,” he murmurs, “You realize what you've done, don't you? In front of Cassian?” His thumb brushes her jaw where it can reach, and he leans in just a breath closer.

“You made a choice,” he says, the corners of his mouth curling now, teasing and warm. “And this time… it was me.” And then he kisses her. It’s everything he’s been holding back from her. His anger, ache, desire, proof. His hands frame her jaw, not to trap her, but to make sure she feels every ounce of the truth he’s tried to show her.

Because if words won’t convince her, then maybe this will.

Because yes—he’d still want her.

Elain  merely  nods  when  Cassian  casts  her  a  second  look  before  finally  leaving  them  behind.  she  watches  until  he  disappears  into  the  clouds,  only  feeling  relief  once  he’s  completely  out  of  sight.  ah,  alone  with  Lucien  again  .  .  .  it’s unsettling how  natural  it  feels  when  it  hadn’t  ever  felt  this  way  before. 

and  she’d chosen  it.  she’d chosen  Lucien  —  to  go  home  with him.  her  heart  stirs  traitorously  at  the  thought  but  she  forces  it  down.  it's  true,  she  hadn’t  hesitated  for  even  a  heartbeat  when  Cassian  had  offered,  but  it's  because she  already  knew  that  she  wouldn’t  leave  without  Lucien  —  not  until  they  finished  whatever  this  is. and  it  certainly  didn’t  feel  right  to  part  ways  after  he’d  called  her  a brat. Lucien  had  been  lucky  — so  damn  lucky  —  that  Cassian  interrupted  when  he  did. she’d  been  ready  to  flay  Lucien  alive  with  her  tongue.  what  had  he  meant  by  it  anyway?  she  hadn’t  asked  him  to catalog her  flaws,  hadn’t  invited  his judgement. but  if  he  thinks  her  such  a burden  — then  he’ll  get  exactly  what  he  expects.  she’ll  be  the  brat  he  thinks  she  is,  and  he  can  suffer  through  taking  her  home.

she  watches  him  pinch  the  bridge  of  his  nose,  and  it  draws  an  irritated  pout  to  her  lips.  like  she’s  a  petulant  child  he’s  too  tired  to  deal  with.  then  his  hand  drops  and  her  lips  part  in  surprise  at  his  invitation,  gesturing  for  her  to  come  closer.  the  audacity  of  it  —  telling  her  to  come  to him  after  everything  —  draws  a  breathless  laugh  of  disbelief  from  her  throat.

she  turns  away,  shaking  her  head,  but  even  as  she  does,  her  feet  are  already  moving. traitor  body,  traitor  heart.  she  has  no  idea  why  she's  walking  toward  him,  why  she's  giving  him  what  he  wants,  but  she  can't  seem  to  stop  herself.  “   today?   ”  she  says,  her  voice  calmer  now  though  it  still  carries  a  hint  of  her  anger  still.  she  gestures  at  the  space  between  them,  at  the  invisible  thread  that  seems  to  pull  them  together  and  push  them  apart  all  the  same.  “   this.  all  the  screaming,  everything  I’ve  told you,  everything  you’ve  told me  —  this  is  the  only  real  thing  we’ve  had  between  us.  ”   Elain  stops  close  enough  that  she  has  to  tip  her  head  back  to  meet  his  eyes.  “  you  asked  if  I  think  this  bond  isn’t  real  — ”  her  brown  eyes  narrow,  even  as  her  voice  softens.  “  but  do you?  truly?  if  we  didn’t  have  this  mating  bond,  would  you  even  try  this  hard  to  get  to  know  me?  ”

[flamesofday]

Lucien huffed a breath that might’ve been a laugh, if not for the way it caught low in his throat at the feel of her, soft and pliant in his arms, clinging without pretense. He didn’t dare move too much, afraid she might realize what she was doing and pull away. Mother above, he liked this, liked her like this, even if it was the cursed berries that finally let her surrender a little. It was more than he dreamed of ever experiencing, of being allowed to show Elain there was someone beneath cleverness and a bond, someone that could care for her.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured, voice warm and low, his mouth near her temple. He could almost ghost a kiss there. Lucien couldn't help himself, couldn't help but let himself remain in this moment with her. Would she remember? Would Elain feign forgetfulness? “I’ll let the whole world think I imagined this” Her hand spread against his chest, fingers twitching slightly as she focused, and he nearly forgot how to breathe.

She mumbled it like a complaint, but the way she burrowed closer betrayed her. He smiled, just barely, and let his eyes close for a beat as her words settled over him. It was the berries, he has to tell himself. Elain didn't crave this as he did, she didn't want this nearness. But cauldron boil him, he wanted her to want him. “You can scold it if you like, Elain” he said quietly, tilting his head so his cheek brushed her hair. Of course she'd call his wild beating heart out. It was her that prompted the reaction. “It’s only ever been obedient to you anyway.”

Elain  has  spent  most  of  her  days  since  turning  Fae  lamenting  her  new  form  that  it  still  surprises  her  —  how  easy  it  is  to  rid  of  the  mortifying  evidence  of  her  sickness  with  magic  alone.  the mess  she  left  behind  is  gone  with  a  flick  of  Lucien’s  hand,  vanished  before  she  can  even  blink.  a  handy  trick,  she  thinks  hazily.  she’ll  have  to  ask  him  to  teach  her  that  someday  .  .  .  when  her  pride  isn’t  in  shambles.

the  worst  of  her  nausea  has  passed,  but  her  head  still  spins  and  bright  spots  dance  stubbornly  at  the  back  of  her  eyelids.  so  when  Lucien  lifts  her  into  his  arms,  she  doesn’t  argue  and  simply  leans  into  him.  her  body  seems  to  know  exactly  how  to  mold  against  him  as  he  cradles  her  in  his  arms,  clinging  to  him  more  openly  than  she  would  normally  allow  herself,  “   if  you  tell  a  soul  about  this  .  .  .  I’ll  tell  them  you’re  lying.   ”   she  means  it  as  a  tease,  but  her  voice  comes  out  weak  that  her  words  hold  no  bite.  Elain  closes  her  eyes  for  a  moment  and  regrets  it  instantly.  the  stars  behind  her  eyelids  only  burn  brighter.  “   don’t  get  too  comfortable,  ”   she  murmurs,  even  as  she  burrows  deeper  against  his  chest  with  a  faint  smile  on  her  lips.  the  part  of  her  that  would  normally  demand  distance  has  been  thoroughly  smothered  by  the  cursed  berries. 

her  palm  finds  its  way  to  his  chest,  rising  and  falling  with  each  steady  breath.  she  doesn’t  look  up  at  his  face,  but  her  brows  knit  in  concentration  at  what  she  discovers  there.  “   your  heart  —-  I  can  hear  it  .  .  . so  clearly.   ”    she  blurts  out,  eyes  narrowing  as  she  tries  to  focus  through  the  haze,  “   it’s  .  .  . very  loud.  I  won’t  be  able  to  sleep  like  this.   ”  she  mumbles  into  his  shirt  with  not  a  shred  of  self-awareness  that  she’s  nestled  against  his  chest  like  it's  her  second  home.

[flamesofday]

Lucien doesn’t flinch when her voice rises and she begins to pace. He stands there, breathing like he’s been punched in the ribs. Her words are sharp, pricking at him like thorns on a rose, but he doesn't stop her. He lets himself get jabbed anyway. That is until she again questions where his feelings come from. “…Do you think this isn’t real?” His voice is raw. Honest in a way that strips him bare. After all this time, Elain equates his feelings for her to the bond. They enhance, they draw, they stir instinct but they don't create. At least from his view, he could of fallen in love with her. Mate or not, Elain was still the most breathtaking female he'd ever seen.

Lucien’s jaw ticks, and he takes a slow, aching step forward. "Because if that’s what you think… If you believe the only reason I’m standing here is because the Cauldron told me to, then fine." He chuckles, bitter and soft. He can't believe their yelling match has turned into whatever this is. A first, maybe the last time she'll ever entertain him. He shakes his head once, hard. “Don’t confuse my distance for indifference, Elain. Don’t pretend I haven’t wanted to scream every time you looked at me and refused to see me. Every single time I've come to the Night Court, you refuse to see me.” Or at least that is what Nesta says, and Rhysand, and everyone else that he dares ask about her to.

Another step. Closer now. Just enough that his voice lowers, “And Cauldron help me, if I had let myself believe this wasn’t real, I would've saved myself a lot of hurt” A breath. “With all your walls, with how you can be an absolute brat. Even when you're trying to push me away, I still could fa—" Lucien's jaw tightens, the confession still laying between them as Elain too, is cut off. Lucien hadn't scented Cassian, but his body is quick to close the little distance between him and Elain until he realizes there is no threat. Lucien's cheeks color to match Elain's, not only by being caught off guard but likely due to that Cassian heard more than he lets on.

Elain had startled like she’s been caught mid-crime, as if being with him is one itself. But it's her words that drag his attention to her side profile. That tiny word, a soft careless slip more than intention...slices straight through him. His throat tightens. He shudders, almost imperceptibly. Because she doesn’t mean it. Isn't that what this whole argument is about? That there wasn't a 'we' between them? Or that she doesn't know?

Lucien’s shoulders sag, and with that drop, the heat of his earlier words starts to burn in the worst way. Not righteous, not justified. Just… humiliating. He had let too much out. Said too much. As if finally speaking would undo her doubts, as if one speech would rewrite their lack of history. Elain would not be won over in a single conversation, and to even consider otherwise...He had made a fool out of himself.

He feels it now, the finality of his words. That nothing he said, nothing he poured into the air between them, had landed where he hoped. He'd called her a brat, and had no time to correct himself. And now Cassian was here, another wall between them. Another reminder that she belonged to a world that barely had room for him in the margins. He can feel Cassian's hesitance, and that primal magic in him stirs in indignation. Lucien has to force the growl back down, Elain has made her feelings known. She doesn't know what she wants, and it likely isn't him growling over a perceived slight. Cassian gives a secondary glance before he gone into the sky, and Lucien is again left with a new version of Elain. One that is mad, at him. And mother above he finds it attractive in the worst ways.

Mismatched eyes shift, index finger and thumb momentarily meeting on the bridge of his nose as he attempts to recollect himself. Winnowing with Elain meant stepping back into her space, and he needed to not feel the resounding echo of their bond between them. Or let her feel the wildness of his heart.

"Come here, please"

Elain  laughs  in  disbelief,  shaking  her  head.  the  difference  between  them  is  stark  —  he  wants  this,  while  she  doesn’t  even  know  what  this  means  sometimes.  she  starts  pacing,  trying  to  shake  off  the  tremor  in  her  bones,every  part  of  her  itching  to  argue  with  him.  because  his  frustrations  are  valid,  of  course  they  are.  but  all  she  hears  is expectation. 

it’s maddening,  how  all  that  finality  must  rest  on  her  shoulders,  how  easily  he  assumes  he  understands  her,  when  he’s  never  even  looked  her  in  the  eye  and  asked  how  she’s  been  (  to  her  face  )  until  today. 

he  cuts  himself  off  mid-sentence,  and  in  the  back  of  her  mind  she  wonders  —  who  is Jes?  why  had  he  stopped  so  abruptly?  and  why  deep  down  she  feels  as  though  some  part  of  her  already  knows?  the  name Jes  sticks,  sparking  something  in  her   —  a  feeling  that’s  not  fully  hers,  “   well, i want  something real.  ”  she  presses  a  hand  to  her  chest  where  something  had  been  terribly  broken  and  still  aches. even  now.  “   I  was  engaged  to  a  human  man  who  loved  the  idea  of  me,  not  who  I  actually  am.  and  now  I  have  a  mate  who  might  only  want  me  because  the  Cauldron  has  decided  as  such.  how  am  I  supposed  to  know  the  difference?  how  am  I  supposed  to  know  what’s real?  ”

she  turns  sharply,  her  back  now  to  him.  “  you  mistake  my  silence  for  a  choice.  and  now  you’re  telling  me  to  decide  —  even  if  it  hurts  you  –  because  you’ve  assumed  I  don’t  want  it.  I  don’t  even know  what  I  want.  ”  Elain  stops  to  catch  her  breath,  her  hands  curl  into  fists  as  she  turns  back  to  face  him.  “  why  does  it  matter  anyway?  why  now?  why  suggest  I  break  the  bond  when  you  barely  cared  to  talk  to  me  before  today?  ”  she  scoffs,  crossing  her  arms  and  taking  a  step  forward.  “  it  infuriates  me  —-  how  you  treat  breaking  the  bond  like  it's  some  noble  sacrifice,  but  you  hardly  speak  to  me !  you  hover  and  watch  and  wait,  but  you  never  —-  ”

“  Elain.  ”  a  deep  voice  cuts  through  her  tirade.  she  quickly  whips  around  to  find  Cassian  emerging  from  behind  a  cluster  of  pine  trees,  his  expression  remaining  neutral  though  his  eyes  are  sharp  with  concern.  “  Cass,  ”  Elain  breathes,  her  anger  immediately  deflates  into  embarrassment.  heat  floods  her  cheeks,  how  much  had  he  heard?  Cassian’s  eyes  flicks  between  the  pair,  “  everyone’s  looking  for  you  —-  for  both  of  you.  ”  his  eyes  return  to  Lucien,  hiding  a  thousand  questions  behind  them.  “  dinner’s  starting  soon.  ” 

Elain  wraps  her  arms  around  herself,  suddenly  feeling  exposed.  “  I  –  we  lost  track  of  time.  ”

“  it  happens,  ”  she  catches  how  his  eyes  linger  on  her  face,  reading  the  storm  brewing  beneath  her  brown  eyes,  “  want  me  to  fly  you  back?  the  others  are  getting  worried  and  I’m  starving.  ”

Elain  looks  to  Lucien,  her  eyes  darting  between  him  and  Cassian  before  she  answers  with  unexpected  conviction,  “  no.  I  want  to  go  back  with  Lucien.  ”

[flamesofday]

They've never really experienced a moment like this together, and recently it seems all their moments together are less than perfect. Either their bickering or one of them is— Elain's state is his fault— but it seems fate is playing with them. They could barely have one normal conversation since any of this started, although Luicen is beginning to feel like this is a good start. It's at least something. When he's sure she's done for the moment, he waves his hand to dispel the mess in the same fashion he did with Feyre. Elain had nothing to be embarrassed about.

"It'll pass soon" He reassured, his cheeks dusting with color as her soft hum of appreciation reaches his pointed ears. He tucks the flask back onto his belt, momentarily distracted until Elain wobbles and her hand is bracing against him. "Woah, slow down there" He's teasing her, softly, an arm bracing around her waist as his chest meets her back.

Lucien does not want to think about how comfortable it feels, supporting her, taking care of her. He offers her a grin, chuckling. "You ask as if you expect the answer to be no" Because when would he ever deny her? Especially if she was asking for his help. Lucien shifts his weight, an arm braced under her knees. Lifting Elain with a gentle sweep before he shifts them back to the ground. He wouldn't draw too much attention to it, that she just might be more comfortable there against his chest. He'd never tell a soul if that's what she wanted, to return in a few days and act as if none of this matter. It mattered to him, but Lucien would follow her lead, always. "I'd never tell a soul if you did" He quipped, his back settled against the bark. "You didn't humiliate yourself, Elain."

“   thank  you,   ”  Elain  murmurs,  wetting  her  lips  before  slowly  drinking  from  his  flask.  her  sips  turn  into  bigger  gulps,  the  cool  water  bringing  her  instant  relief.  she  only  stops  to  catch  her  breath,  her  cheeks  still  flushed.  mostly  from  his  earlier  admission  that  continues  to  echo  in  her  mind. you're my favourite person.  such  simple  words ( or is it? ),  yet  her  heart  had  fluttered  with  enough  force  to  drown  out  some  of  the  nausea  .  .  .  only  to  replace  it  with  a different  sort  of  queasiness  altogether,  a  much  more  pleasant  one.  “   I  haven’t  even  had  the  chance  to  ask  what  you  meant  when  you  said  I’d  feel  the  berries  later  .  .  .  ”  she  sighs,  a  hint  of  amusement  in  her  tone. 

another  gulp  of  water  slides  down  her  throat,  she  barely  notices  the  way  he  traces  gentle  circles  against  her  back  —  not  until  a  soft  hum  vibrates  in  her  throat.  Elain  wipes  her  mouth  with  the  back  of  her  hand  and  passes  the  flask  back  to  him,  “   I  can  move,   ”  she  says,  before  correcting  herself  with  a  breathy  wince,  “   I  think  I  can.   ”  she  attempts  to  straighten,  but  her  head  is  still  spinning.  her  hand  immediately  finds  Lucien’s  arm  for  support,  “   will  you  help  me?  I  think  I’d  like  to  sit  down  for  a  minute.   ”  she  manages  a  small,  weak  smile  then,  “   before  I  humiliate  myself  any  further  and  throw  up  on  your  boots.  ” 

[flamesofday]

i usually write on my mac, but i'm on my windows computer and to do the em dash i gotta type out a code like i'm hacking into the system. 0151 like what??

[flamesofday]

Lucien knelt beside her, his hand still resting lightly at the nape of her neck where he’d tied back her hair. At her muttered comment, his mouth quirked in the faintest shadow of a smile. “I do like you,” he said, voice low and rough with truth. “You’re my favorite person” It was an easy admission, filled with the raw honesty he usually reserved for her.

Lucien reached for his small water flask attached at his hip, offering it to Elain without a second thought. “This wasn’t how I imagined today going, no,” he admitted, crouching lower so she didn’t have to strain her neck to meet his gaze. "We can stay until you're completely better" Lucien let his mouth drop into a frown, realizing she'd apologized beforehand. "Elain, this is not your fault. . .If anything I should of actually stopped you from eating the berries, I'm sorry"

Luicen offered a weak smile, his palm offering small circles of comfort. "When you feel like you can move, I'll set up a little camp for us, okay?" He hesitated, his voice careful. "But I'm going to stay here with you until you feel a little better"

truly  awful  – vomiting  is  bad  enough  on  its  own,  but  doing  it  in  the  middle  of  an  adventure  and  with  Lucien  witnessing  every  mortifying  moment,  makes  it infinitely worse.  of  all  the  people  to  see  her  looking  like death, it  had  to  be him.  her  eyes  sting  as tears blurs  her  vision,  a  cursed  reflex  her  body  insists  on  whenever  she’s  vomiting.  Though  if  this  keeps  up  much  longer,  she might  actually  cry. 

Elain  braces  one  hand  against  a  tree,  its  rough  bark  biting  into  her  palm,  while  the  other  clutches  her  stomach  as  it  coils  tight  again.  there’s  no  dignity  left  in  the  way  she  lurches  forward  with  another  miserable  retch.  she  flinches  when  Lucien’s  hand  touches  her  back,  startled,  but  she  melts  into  the  contact  almost  immediately.  she  doesn’t  have  the  energy  to  maintain  her  usual  walls,  and  frankly,  she’s  grateful  for  the  comfort  to  care. 

she  groans  as  that  familiar,  dreaded  sensation  builds  again.  and  then, saints  above,  he  starts  tying  her  hair  back.  “   you  must  really  like  me  if  you’re  doing  this,   ”  she  mutters,  voice  ragged.  even  through  her  misery,  she  notices  how  careful  his  fingers  are  as  they  gather  her  hair  away  from  her  face.

Elain  nods  at  his  offer  for  water,  “   I’m  sorry,   ”  she  says  hoarsely,  a  weak  cough  follows.  “   I’d  love  to  say  that  was  the  last  of  it  but  I’d  rather  not  get  my  hopes  up.   ”  still  hunched,  Elain  cranes  her  neck  just  enough  to  glance  at  him,  “   I  know  this  probably  wasn’t  how  you  imagined  spending  your  day  —  but  can  we  stay  here  a  little  longer?   ”

[flamesofday]

Lucien should have known. Should have expected it. Just like Feyre, Elain's experience with the end of the witch berry fun. She brushed past him before he could get a word out, stumbling toward the nearest bush with a desperation that made his stomach clench. He didn’t hesitate. Lucien was quick to follow, the panic in her movement sparking his own.

Now he truly felt bad, he might of been a little more stern with his warning. He hadn't expected her to get ill...at tiny bit worse than her sisters reaction.

He didn’t call her name, fearing it would make it worse. The last thing he needed was Elain shoo-ing him away because she was embarrassed. Or worse, angry. Luicen reached forward, pulling back her curls with a gentle tug out of the way. His palm braced on her back before he realized he needed both hands to truly help her. Lucien reached up, tugging the leather strap from his own hair to tie back her own. When it was done, his palms smoothed over her sides, keeping Elain upright.

Only when the heaving began to fade, when silence stretched too long and too still, he shifted his hands carefully. “Easy, there Elain” he murmured. “Do you want some water?”

even through her nausea, Elain notices his smile falter and somehow that makes everything worse. her stomach churns from more than just witch berries now. the distance he’s created feels vast despite them sharing the same saddle. that dizzying moment with her voice in her ear, his hand tightening at her waist, suddenly feels far away now, erased with the simple word ‘lady’. one she’s come to recognise as his polite way of pulling back.

she tries to convince herself it’s for the best. perhaps whatever made him pull away is the same realisation she’s having right now: neither of them needs inevitable questions and knowing looks from her sisters when they return.

her hands brace lightly on his shoulder as he lifts her down from the horse, and that’s when she knows she can’t hold it anymore. whether it’s his hands around her waist again, the press of their bodies as he helps her down or simply the dizzy shift from saddle to solid ground. Elain knows that she can’t answer whatever question he’s asking. it won’t be words that come out, it’ll be her breakfast. 

she tries to nod in response but the movement sends her head spinning worse. panic flares as saliva floods her mouth and without another word, she stumbles forward – nearly sprinting – and disappears behind the nearest bush just as her stomach gives in.

[flamesofday]

He had to guess if Elain was flirting back or simply making conversation, but the way her eyes gleam feel like it's more than just her pretty words. Lucien finds his cheeks growing warm, averting his eyes as if taking in the decor and not giving himself away. He was trying to be charming, trying to show Elain she could get to know him. Between the drink and her smiles, he was failing to keep a respectable distance. Everything about her drew him in.

As she perked up, Lucien offered a warm smile. He'd seen Nesta dance, briefly, but he couldn't be bothered to watch her and his sister flaunt themselves around the ballroom before Cassian rushed in. The memory sparked a subtle smile to his face, "I wasn't watching her last time, I have no frame of reference" It's subtle, a blink and you'll miss it comment. Lucien had been watching Elain, enchanted by the fact they'd been in the same room.

Finishing his drink, Lucien set the glass on the table. He offered a hand to her, "This may be...a tad less refined than ballroom dancing, but I promise it's far more fun" Even if Elain woke tomorrow regretting everything, he could show her he can be fun...that he isn't whatever picture he's been painted as.

It wasn't lost on Elain the way his eyes darted to her lips, the simple action sending a dangerous spark to her stomach. This was all so incredibly new to her, so incredibly fast, that Elain felt as if she were getting whiplash, but in the most pleasant of ways. The most surprising part about all of this was that she wasn't scared. She was beginning to think that the decision not to allow the Cauldron to dictate her life had lifted the invisible shackles from around her wrists. The Cauldron could proclaim whatever it wanted, but she was done fighting and hiding from it; the toll had exhausted her almost as much as her grief had.

And she was already having so much fun, and the night hadn't even begun, but it had everything to do with him. He, with his beautiful russet eye and beautiful smile, which she yearned to see more of.

Her body was growing deliciously warm, and she had no idea if it had to do with the drink she was consuming, or if it had everything to do with him and his intoxicating presence. "Perhaps you could eventually show me all of these talents of yours." Elain replies back innocently enough, though there is a certain gleam in her eyes that speaks of mischief as she watches him over the rim of her glass.

At his question, Elain visibly perks up. “Oh, I do!” She confesses with a smile. “I’m not nearly as talented as Nesta is, but I so enjoyed dancing at the balls.”

[flamesofday]

lucien deflated at the tone in her voice, the sharpness in which she spoke. he'd meant it to be teasing, something playful they could banter about. his smile faltered, lips pressed back into something unreadable. "of course not, my lady. perhaps I took it too far" he muttered his reply, his eyes trained forward on the path ahead.

"you should take a trip to Day. they have them there" it was all the information he could offer, but he felt the shift in her body as if it was his own. that, and the fact Elain used his name. lucien urges their horses forward, around the bend and opening into the soft banks of the lake. mostly grass, trees, and a peacefulness that was reserved for Spring Court.

lucien dismounted his horse with ease, hesitating for a half a second before his hands were around her waist and lifting elain with ease until her feet were settled on the ground. "elain, are you.."

her ears immediately turn pink, perking up slightly, and she dips her chin just enough to hide the blush creeping across her cheeks when his breath brushes against her ear. warmth spreads down her neck — this proximity is already too much, yet she finds herself turning to glance at him anyway.  if she’s not careful (or allows herself to fall in a moment of poor judgement !), they’ll be close enough for a . . .

no, she shouldn’t think about that. and she’s already forgotten about the pegasus she supposedly saw earlier.

“  you wouldn’t dare,  ” she says, half warning him. “  ---- wouldn’t dare steal me away, I mean. ” the witch berries are already working their way through her system and she doesn’t have the energy to debate him — not when she might end up spewing more than just words. “ I’d like to see a real pegasus . . .  ” but Elain, just can’t help herself but add, “  the one I saw earlier did look real, though.  ”

her mouth suddenly feels cotton-dry, swallowing hard against the rising nausea. “  Lucien?  ” his name (she rather likes saying it) comes out strained from her effort, “  how far is this lake again?  ”

[flamesofday]

"I know you are" he hums it softly in response, but his gaze softens. he had teased feyre relentlessly when she'd eaten the berries, but elain...elain makes him want to be soft, to keep her closer rather than arms length away. "indulge me please, my lady" he requests again, this time his gaze lingering on hers just a fraction of a second too long when she lifts her head. she looks so....stubborn, so sure of herself that he almost relents but— she breaks first, her head tipping further back.

lucien thanks the— elain startles him with the practically fae way she uses the curse, a laugh stumbling out of his mouth in surprise. he glances up, searching the skies for the creature he knows resides in the day court, but still he cannot help but humor her. her fingers have slipped to his sleeve, and lucien tightens the arm around her waist as she excitedly points up.

lucien dips his head towards her pointed ear, perhaps....a slight moment of teasing her would not cause too much trouble. he keeps his voice low, beginning to move their horses onward. "one day, i'll steal you away and show you real pegasus', elain" because if lucien was learning one thing, it was that he was falling in love with her. perhaps he had been, all along. but without a doubt, elain archeron owned his body, mind, and soul....and most certainly his heart.

Elain  doesn’t  quite  remember  moving  —  one  moment  she’s  on  her  own  horse  and  the  next,  she’s  on his, the  space  between  them  reduced  to mere  breath.  being  this  close,  she  can  feel  his  warmth  and  with  it,  her  thoughts  begin  to  soften,  her  pulse  drumming  a  little  too  loud  in  her  ears.  she  blinks  and  the  fire  she  swore  she  saw  dancing  atop  his  head  disappears,  replaced  by  the  sharp  copper  glint  of  his  hair  catching  the  golden  afternoon  light. 

her  lips  part,  but  nothing  comes.  only  a  soft  hum  leaves  her  when  her  name  falls  from  his  lips,  and  when  his  hands  find  hers,  her  heart  gives  a  startled  skip.  hard  enough  that  she  fears  he  might  feel  it  too.   a  slow  churn  begins  to  stir  in  her  stomach, silently regretting ever touching the berries at all.

 “  I’m  .  .  .  perfectly  capable  of  riding  my  own  horse,  ”  she  finally  says,  but  not  unfriendly,  just  stubborn,  and  with  that  familiar  lift  of  her  chin.  desperate  for  somewhere  — anywhere  —  else  to  look,  she  tips  her  head  back  toward  the  sky.  and  that’s  when  she  sees  it.

“   by  the  Mother  -—-   ”  Elain  blurts  out,  the  curse  landing  awkwardly  on  her  tongue.  “  is  that  a  pegasus?!  ”  only  then  does  her  hands  slip  from  his,  one  tugging  urgently  at  Lucien’s  sleeve,  while  the  other  shoots  up  to  point  at  a  particularly  fluffy  cloud  formation.  she’s  nearly  bouncing  in  their  saddle  now,  “  —-  up  there!  do  you  see  it?!  ”

[flamesofday]

Your best writing happens when you stop worrying about what’s “good” and just write. Messy, chaotic, too-long sentences. Weird, overdramatic dialogue. Scenes that make you feel something. You can always clean it up later, but the rawest, realest writing comes from writing like no one will ever read it.

[flamesofday]

Lucien didn’t flinch when Elain’s voice cracked through the air. He stood his ground, though her nearness that fire in her eyes, the storm in her voice, threatened to undo every calm mask he’d ever worn. She was fury and heartbreak incarnate, and still, he found her breathtaking.

His jaw tightened, but his voice was quiet when it came. “You don't want it, Elain. Isn't that the choice you're making?” He didn’t move when she jabbed him, didn’t so much as shift. But his gaze lowered to meet hers, and for a flicker of a second, Lucien felt something close to hope. “I’m saying I’ll endure whatever I must if it means setting you free.” Lucien shook his head, his gaze shifting off her for just a moment. "I know you are not selfish, Elain. I would never call you selfish"

His voice broke then, soft but aching. “It’s your life, Elain. Your immortal life. And you deserve to want it.” He looked up, meeting her eyes, bare, unguarded. “And if I have to spend the rest of mine pretending I don’t feel you in every breath, I will. But I will not be the reason you feel caged.”

A beat passed. Another. His own frustration growing, aching. He'd waited, two years for something and this? Her tilt of her head, always saying that he didn't ask for this—

“I did ask for you, Elain.” The words rang out before he could stop them, before he could soften them into something less raw. He stepped up to her, his head angled downward. But it was too late now. His chest rose and fell in sharp bursts as all the things he’d buried finally clawed their way to the surface. She cared about sending him into madness, but still left in this purgatory of nothing. No mate, not even a friendship, he was waiting, just out of reach.

“I asked for someone kind. I asked for someone fierce. Someone who could see past what I am, who might choose to accept me, someone who was strong enough to be mine, who wanted to be mine. His jaw worked, his fists clenching at his sides as he looked down at her. “Don’t you dare stand there and say this was something neither of us ever wanted because I do.I may not have known it was you, but now I—”

His voice cracked at the edges now, but he didn't care. He’d spent too long playing at restraint, biting his tongue while she retreated, again and again, leaving him in the ache of her silence. But this—this was something else entirely. It wasn’t distance anymore. “You think I don’t know what it feels like to be trapped by something you didn’t ask for?” he demanded. “You think I haven’t felt that? Haven’t lived it every day since Jes—” He broke off, breath catching. He hadn’t meant to go this far.

He scrubbed a hand through his hair and took a shaky breath, quieter now, but no less intense. He needed to step back, small, but necessary. Elain didn't want to know anything about him. She's made that clear. Just someone to whisk her away when she needed, someone to let her yell and scream. It was something, but it wasn't what he thought.

Elain  turns  to  Lucien  when  he  says  he  understands,  searching  his  mismatched  eyes  for  any  hint  of  dishonesty.  she  doesn’t  know  whether  to  believe  him  —  whether  he  truly  understands  or  merely  thinks  he  does.

there’s  so  very  little  she  knows  about  Lucien.  what  she  knows  are  merely  fragments  —  little  stories  Feyre  would  share  freely,  scattered  pieces  of  a  puzzle  Elain  never  dared  to  complete.  if  she  ever  wanted  to  know  him,  she’d  rather  learn  directly  from  him  and  not  through  secondhand  stories.  but  she’s  not  ready  for  that  —-  not  ready  to  face  the  possibility  of  actually liking  him.  but  when  he  offers  her  the  chance  to  break  the  bond,  she  scoffs,  shaking  her  head.

“   break  the  bond?!   ”  Elain’s  voice  rises  several  octaves  —  if  she  hasn’t  gone  mad, he  certainly  has. it  doesn’t  matter  how  achingly  he  looks  at  her,  her  fury  remains  undeterred.  “  how  do  you  think  that’s  even  an  option?!  ”  she  steps  closer,  eyes  blazing.  “  I know  what  happens  when  mating  bonds  are  broken!  ”

She  had  wondered  before,  in  her  darkest,  most  desperate  moments  —-  what  happens  when  faes  sever  the  mating  bond.  And  when  she  finally  learned  the  truth,  she’d  buried  that  knowledge  so  deep  she’d  hoped  never  to  think  of  it  again.  “   do  you  think  I’m  that selfish  —   ”  her  eyes  narrow  to  slits,  utterly  offended,  “  ---  that  you  honestly  believe  i’d  do such  a  thing?  ”  she  jabs  a  finger  to  his  shoulder,  each  word  pointed.  if  it  were  that  simple  she  wouldn’t  be  carrying  this  crushing  weight  in  her  chest,  would  she? 

“   perhaps  it surprises you  —-  but  I  can’t live  knowing  that  my  choice  might  send  someone  else  into  madness.  ”  her  arms  fall  slack  to  her  sides,  lifting  her  chin  in  challenge.  “  do  you  think  I  could  fight  for  myself  if  it  meant  watching  you  fall  apart?  if  it  meant  making  you  suffer  for  something  neither of us ever asked for?  ”

there’s  no  way  she’d  risk  it.  she’s  toyed  with  the  idea  —  especially  in  moments  when  their  bond  feels  most  unbearable  —  but  the  thought  of  causing  that  kind  of  pain  on  someone  for  something  they  never  chose  .  .  .

who  would  understand  that  better  than  Elain  herself?  “  why  else  do  you  think  this  is  so  impossibly  hard  for  me,  Lucien?  ” 

there's  another  truth  she  doesn’t  voice  —  the  truth  that  maybe  .  .  .  she’s  afraid  she  might  be  wrong.  that  maybe  fate  isn’t  entirely  cruel  .  .  .  that  maybe  he  could  love  her  the  way  she  always  longed  to  be  loved.

[flamesofday]

Lucien hadn't expected that response, it was witty and charming and so Elain he was caught off guard. He had stepped away for her sake—and his, truthfully—but stars above, it took every ounce of self-control he had left not to step right back into her space. And now she was looking at him like that, spine straightened, lips wet from her drink, voice edged with something flirtatious and new. Bold. His russet eye flicked to her mouth. Just for a heartbeat.

She was changing before his eyes. And he’d be a liar if he said it didn’t affect him. Every bit of progress, every glance she didn’t shy from today, made something in his chest tighten. Hope. Hunger. Caution. He was a fool in love, a fool for her. It almost showed when he let a half goofy grin on his face.

He schooled his features into something composed, even as amusement curled the corners of his mouth. He couldn't help it, he was enchanted, dazed and so enraptured by her.

“Depends on your definition of worthwhile,” Lucien replied, his voice a shade lower, warmer than it had been moments before. He took a sip of his drink, which felt as if it fueled his flirtatious behavior. “I’ve been told I have a few talents that might qualify.”

He let it hang in the air between them, not as a challenge, but an invitation. She was testing the waters; he could see it in the gleam in her eyes, in the way her fingers curled around her glass. Whatever had shifted in her since that flower had passed from her hand to his earlier, he wasn’t about to scare it off. Not by pushing....too much. But gods, did he want to step back into that space she'd just filled with laughter and nerves and the scent of something sweetly defiant.

He didn't know what had changed for her, but for once, she was looking, not away from him… but at him. And he would meet her there, wherever she led. "Particularly, that I'm a good dancer, and I've heard you enjoy dancing?" He phrased it as a question, hoping that tiny piece of information Feyre gave held true.

Elain couldn't accurately put into words how much she was becoming affected by this male, and how much she was beginning to crave his warmth and nearness, which was an incredibly stark contrast to only a few days prior. Where she had once run from whichever room he was in, she now found herself drawn to him. She didn't have any answers for the sudden change in her, but she did know it had everything to do with the curiosity he had sparked during their conversation when she'd gifted him the flower. He wasn't anything at all like she expected him to be, but in all fairness, she hadn't really known what to expect, either.

His presence was so intoxicating, she both wanted him to keep far away and come even closer, to crowd into her space until all she could feel and smell was him. Was this an effect of their supposed bond? She didn't think so; otherwise, she was sure she would have felt it earlier... unless her initiating a conversation triggered it, and though it was doubtful and silly, it was still a plausible explanation. After all, she really didn't know much at all about fae and these bonds, but she'd rather drown in the Sidra than ask him more about it. She also wasn't inclined to ask either of her sisters, so she was just going to have to feel it all out.

Elain gave an audible exhale the moment he stepped away, and she felt unreasonably cold in his absence despite the heat that continued to flush her cheeks. Raising her glass to her lips and taking a rather large sip to gather herself, she straightened her spine. "That depends," she says after a few moments of debating her words. "will you make it worth my while?" It was unusually easy to fall into banter with him, emboldened in ways she wasn't with anyone else, not even her sisters. And she liked it. She liked the way he made her speak without thought, and the way her heart pounded with adrenaline in anticipation of his reactions.

[flamesofday]

there was no hesitation in the way that lucien pulled her close, and they vanished away in an instant. and while they were mates, it felt as he was truly kidnapping away the bride of spring. his bride.

lucien chuckled once he felt the warmth and sun of Day, pulling back just enough to gaze down at her. aurora glowed in spring, but in day it almost looked as if she had a halo around her.

"welcome, my dawn"

it rang true, the words he whispered to her. aurora knew in her heart that if he had anything to do about it, she'd never be without him. she'd never have to go back to those days in her grove, every single waking moment spent utterly alone ― it was a relief to know those days were forever in the past.

aurora kissed him back with a matching softness, her eyes fluttering shut and remaining shut even after he broke the kiss. she could hear the tease in his voice, and the high lady giggled softly. " no, i want you to whisk me away right now, " she murmured, " i'll send a letter back, and i need nothing from here. " aurora grinned ― she could use some clothes; but perhaps she'd spend her days lounging in his chambers, of which such would be completely unnecessary.

" take me to day, lucien, please. " before any sort of guilt about leaving spring for a few days could seep into her thoughts.

[flamesofday]

"Ask anything, Elain, It won't bother me" Lucien gave a nod, but did not release her hands.

"That sounds lovely. Shall we?"

"I'll forgive you if you forgive my questions about being fae," Elain said, smiling. When he kissed her fingers, she felt her cheeks heat a little.

"Shall I go ask Nuala and Cerridwen to bring us some tea?"

[flamesofday]

He watches her scream into the mountains like she could shatter the sky. Like her voice might crack the stone beneath their feet. And all he can think —mother above—is that she is fire. Not the soft, flickering candlelight she pretends to be. No, Elain’s anger burns like a wildfire, wild, untamed, and glorious. She doesn't see it yet, doesn't realize the strength in that fury. But he does. He knows it well. It almost matches his. When his life had been stripped from him. Jesminda. But it was not a person that Elain has lost, but herself.

Lucien steps closer, just enough for his voice to carry. Low. Barely more than a breath. “You think I don’t understand.” He pauses. “But I do.”

Lucien knows he cannot disappear and leave her here, not like this, not when every fiber of him thrums with the instinct to reach for her. But his heart aches with the weight of what she’s said—of all the things she’s been made to endure, and all the choices taken from her before she ever had the chance to make them.

His voice roughens, and he meets her eyes, amber glinting with something ancient and aching. “…You can break the bond, Elain.” The words fall between them like a stone. Honest. “If it’s one less chain around your throat, then I’ll find a way to live with it.” His mouth twitches, not quite a smile, not quite a grimace. “I’ve lived with worse.”

Lucien keeps going, even though it hurts. Especially because it hurts. “I don’t see the bond as a curse. I never have. Not once.” His eyes search the horizon, as if it could hold the answer. “But I know what it is to feel trapped inside something you never chose. And if this thing between us feels like a prison to you then it’s not worth anything, not really.”

A pause. The breeze carries the smell of pine, of moss and distant fog. "If this bond is the thing keeping you from seeing yourself, then burn it. I’ll manage.” He takes one final step closer. “Your freedom matters more than my hope. I can live with losing you, Elain. But I can’t live with being another hand that cages you....And trust me, Elain — The Night Court is just another cage too.” Because he saw it, even if she didn't. Elain had the same fire he did. And she didn't want it.

Lucien’s  scent  floods  her  senses  as  he  pulls  her  closer,  and  her  fingers  betray  her  as  it  tightens  around  the  front  of  his  shirt.  her  cheeks  burn  at  the  warmth  of  his  palm  cradling  the  back  of  her  head,  and  she  has  to  bite  down  the  traitorous  urge  to  lean  into  him,  to  let  herself  be  held  for  just  a  moment  longer.  Elain  presses  her  eyes  shut  as  he  winnows  them  away,  and  it  takes  her  a  heartbeat  too  long  to  release  her  grip  on  his  shirt  —  quickly  stumbling  backward  when  her  good  senses  catches  up  to  her  as  though  those  extra  seconds  of  contact  might  brand  her.

and  then  —  her  anger  returns,  demanding  to  be  acknowledged,  “   you  want  to  know  what  vexes  me?   ”  Elain  snaps,  eyes  blazing.  “   my  whole  life  —-  my  entire  life  was  decided  for  me.  all  I  was  ever  good  for,  in  my  mother’s  eyes,  was  marriage,  love.  a  pretty  future  arranged  behind  closed  doors,  that  was  my  worth.   ”

“   and  I  told  myself  that  was  fine.  if  I  couldn’t  choose  who  I  got  to  be,  then  maybe  I  could  still  choose  who  to  give  myself  to.  if  mother  wanted  to  parade  me  before  lords  like  a  prized  broodmare,  then  at  the  very  least,  I  could  powder  my  lips  pale  so  I’d  look  too  sickly  to  dance.  that  was  mine!   ” back  then,  it   had  felt like the only power she had: a harmless, rebellious act in a life carefully crafted by others. it was hers, a way to reclaim choice when everything else had been decided for her. and now, even that feels like it belongs to someone else, a girl who once believed that faking a headache could count as control.

“   but  now  with  this  bond,  even  that’s  gone  —-  even  that  choice  is  no  longer  mine.   ”

“   do  you  know  how  helpless  it  feels?  to  spend  your  life  being  told  who  you  are,  what  you're  meant  for  —--  and  then  the  one  thing  you  thought  you  could  still  claim  as  your  own,  the  who,  the  heart  of  it,  is  taken  by  some  magical,  ancient  law  you  don’t  understand?!  ”

for  a  moment,  it  seems  like  Elain  might  keep  screaming  at  him  —-  but  instead,  she  spins  toward  the  mountain’s  edge.  a  wordless,  guttural  scream  rips  from  her  throat,  carrying  with  it  all  her  rage  and  helplessness  into  the  wind.  her  arms  stretch  wide  as  she  screams  again,  louder  this  time,  until  her  voice  echoes  off  the  distant  peaks.  the  mountain  breeze  whips  through  her  hair,  and  with  her  eyes  squeezed  shut,  she  feels  weightless  —-  like  she  might  take  flight  on  the  wings  of  her  own  fury.

and  for  the  first  time  in  a  long  time,  Elain  feels  blissfully  free.  

[flamesofday]

From the moment they'd stepped into the tavern, his amber eye had sparkled with a kind of quiet mischief that Elain didn’t often see directed her way, and the more she responded—be it with a glance, a flustered breath, or a flush creeping into her cheeks, the more emboldened he became. Now, with her caged between his arms, pressed flush to the bar with his chest warming her back, Lucien knew she was flustered beyond words. If she had any issues with it, she did not voice it verbal or through their bond. It felt like a step in the right direction.

He caught her stuttered response to the bartender and the sound coaxed a slow grin to his lips. He’d said her name affectionately, deliberately, to test just how much it could become a spell in his mouth. The pink blooming across her cheeks was more than enough of an answer. He had warned her, he was curious to see what else would make her blush. And she had teased him, rushing out of dinner after putting a few more...not so innocent thoughts in his head. Where had this Elain come from? Or had their dancing around this...thing between them finally come to a boiling point?

Lucien didn’t let on how deeply her reactions affected him, how her scent tangled with his thoughts and how each tiny shiver or hesitant breath from her set something smoldering low in his gut. But he was aware—acutely, maddeningly aware—of every inch of space between them, and how little of it remained. And as she fumbled for composure, trying to focus on anything but him, Lucien leaned ever so slightly closer, letting his smirk ghost along the curve of her cheek in the form of warmth and nearness. All in the guise of reaching for his drink, "Thank you Celeste, I'm sure we'll be back" He hummed thoughtfully, finally giving Elain some breathing room.

He didn’t need to win tonight. This wasn't about victory. This was about the slow game, the way her flustered silences said more than words ever could. And if his nearness turned her into a flushed, lovely mess—well, he’d happily press his advantage again... and again until she voiced she wanted him to stop. "Are you going to save a dance for me?" He asked, sipping at his whiskey with a smile.

It seemed that just as naturally as she had placed her hand in his, it was just as natural for him to pull her into his side. Even more, Elain found she didn't mind it. In fact, she secretly enjoyed the warmth that seemed to radiate off of him, the sensation enveloping her in a warm blanket of security. It even made the sensation of winnowing somewhat more bearable to her.

Once she'd grounded herself, she took in the beautiful twinkling lights of the artist quarter. Of the different areas of Velaris, Elain was most familiar with the Rainbow, though admittedly, she'd only visited the artists' quarter a handful of times, mostly to visit Feyre's studio or shop for supplies with her, and she'd yet to experience it at night. It was unlike anything she'd seen before, so full of life and color, and Elain didn't know where to look first, her eyes darting every which way. Though she wasn't so distracted as to not notice the hand he placed at her back, his touch practically searing into her skin through her dress, and his low whisper against her ear causing a pleasant shiver to dance down her spine.

As he led her into a little tavern, Elain knew immediately she would enjoy this place far more than Rita's. She'd only gone to Rita's a few times, always at the beckoning of the others, but she found it loud and overwhelming. This place was quieter and cozier in a way Rita's would never be, and she appreciated that.

Elain was also incredibly certain that Lucien was doing everything within his power to push her buttons, to see how far he could go until she was a blushing, flustered mess. It seemed as the night progressed, he was growing bolder in his words and touches, encouraged by her own allowance of his actions, and it was making her positively lightheaded. Especially as he now practically caged her in against the bar, his warm body pressed against her back as his arms barricaded her on either side. Once again, he was overwhelming her with his warmth and smell, and she found it difficult to breathe with him so close and practically surrounding her. She took notice of the ease with which he interacted with this female, Celeste, to distract from how hot her face had gotten and how her stomach was doing flips from his proximity. "Just wine for me, please." She stuttered out, stilling in surprise from his casual touch and endearment. My lovely Elain, he had said, and the sound echoed around in her mind as her face once more flushed pink, which seemed to be a recurring theme whenever she was with him, and by the looks of the sly smirk on his lips that she caught sight of out of the corner of her eye, he was betting on it.