#Lucien POV

[the-darkestminds]

Desolate Autumn 🍂

Eris refuses his father's order to kill Lucien's lover, Jesminda, and faces severe punishment. Lucien flees the Autumn Court.

In canon, Eris states that he wasn’t present for the execution. I explored what it might have been like if he had been there. I can’t stop making my fave Vanserra brothers suffer. 😭

🍁 Eris & Lucien POV 🍁

Can also be found on ao3 here!

Hope you guys enjoy 🥹 eternally grateful to anyone who chooses to read it all the way through 🫶

——————————————————————————

Eris

Eris had long since learned to dread being summoned to his father’s throne room. He had only unpleasant memories of the place, and chose to avoid it as often as he could. As the eldest son of Autumn, that was not often enough. His footsteps echoed off the marble beneath him as he made his way through the Forest House. His mind was consumed with thoughts of last night’s patrol, the sentry who had been reported missing near Winter’s border without explanation. Eris pondered the problem as he turned the corner and the grand entrance to the throne room came into view. The arched hall was decorated with intricate carvings of golden vines, interspersed with rubies that sparkled in the afternoon light. He had always held the belief that the beauty of the Autumn Court was in stark contrast to the ugliness of the people who called it home.

Eris’s steps faltered as he entered the throne room, the scene unfolding before him. Lucien, a gag of fire between his lips, was restrained by his brothers, Jasper and Orson. He struggled against the grip they each had on his arms. A lesser faerie female was bound and on her knees before his father. Tears streamed down her face as she turned her pleading eyes towards Eris.

He stopped abruptly, his stomach sinking as understanding dawned on him as to why he had been called here. What he might be required to witness. He glanced around the room taking note of his father’s loyal sentries standing watch along the walls. His other brothers, Alix, Arden and Conall stood to the side with knowing smirks on their smug faces. Mercifully, his mother’s chair sat empty beside his father’s throne. At least she would not be here to bear witness to whatever horror was soon to unfold.

“You called?” Eris forced himself to say with a drawl. He flicked an invisible piece of lint from the lapel of his emerald green jacket. He kept his face cool and indifferent—it had become a near-permanent mask, here in his father’s court of snakes.

“Eris.” Beron’s voice thundered through the room. “We were just about to begin.” Jasper and Orson turned at his name, and both gave him a slight nod before quickly averting their eyes.

“Oh?” Eris glanced at Lucien once more, who thrashed against his brothers like a wildcat caught in a trap. His russet eyes so wide and pained as they met Eris’s from across the room. The band of fire around his mouth prevented him from speaking beyond frantic grunts and moans. Eris slid the practiced smirk on his face and tried to disguise the slight tremor in his hands as he clasped them behind his back. He tried to think of something he could say to prevent the impending violence, but his mind came up blank.

“Lucien here thinks to sully himself by marrying a lesser fae whore. He has deluded himself into believing she is a worthy match for a High Lord’s son,” Beron spat, his lip curling as he snarled in Lucien’s direction. Beron met Eris’s gaze once more and smiled viciously. “You shall eliminate the problem for me, Eris.” Beron delivered a swift and brutal kick to the female’s ribs and she curved in on herself with a pained cry. Lucien screamed.

“I am sure Lucien will come to see reason, eventually.” His smile was cold and harsh as he looked down at his youngest son.

Eris started at the command. That Beron would truly have Lucien’s lover executed in front of him…He was well acquainted with his father’s penchant for violence, but this seemed uniquely cruel, even for him. Eris knew he’d been stupid to hope his presence had been requested merely to oversee courtly business, or to deal with his ever-scheming younger brothers, always at each other’s throats. But an execution? To be carried out by Eris himself?

“No.” Eris’s heart raced. He had never once uttered that word to his father. Had not once, in his long life, disobeyed a direct order. The silence that followed was deafening. Beron jerked around at the outright refusal. His brothers gaped at him.

“What did you say to me, boy?” Beron seethed. The rage on his face was enough to send lesser males running. But Eris held his ground. He would not cross this line—would not be the one to break Lucien so thoroughly, so ruthlessly, that he might never recover from the pain and loss.

“I will play no part in this,” Eris shrugged. He fought to keep his tone measured and aloof despite the storm raging inside of him. His gut churned at the slight glint of hope he spied in Lucien’s eyes. Eris hated to give him that hope—knew that Beron would see this done with or without Eris’s involvement. Beron glared at him, and Eris held his gaze. Let it wash over him in all its fury. Seconds, maybe minutes, passed in silence. Then—

“Get out. I’ll deal with you later,” Beron sneered. Eris turned to leave and Lucien began screaming in earnest then, struggling wildly against Jasper and Orson as his other three brothers looked on with varying degrees of amusement. He screamed as if Eris had been his final hope—had come to save him from this hell he was now trapped in.

It cut Eris deep—to turn his back on Lucien and walk away. To burn that remaining sliver of hope to ash. When he reached the throne room doors, he heard his father unsheath the blade. Heard the sobs of the female on the floor. Heard as Lucien, the gag now removed, begged, “Jesminda! NO, FATHER, PLEASE! PLEASE!” And as Eris stepped into the hallway, he cringed at the wet thud that sounded as Jesminda’s head toppled to the floor, his stomach lurching in response. Lucien’s agonized shrieks rang loudly in his ears and he felt his heart splinter in two.

Eris barely made it to his chambers before he was violently sick upon the patterned carpet. With a wave of his hand he winnowed the mess away and stumbled towards the oak desk in the corner of his opulent rooms, eyes and throat burning. He had only minutes to see this through. Prayed that he was correct in thinking Beron would want Lucien to suffer for at least several days before finally ending it. Ending him. Eris found a spare bit of parchment and began hastily scrawling the urgent message to the High Lord of Spring. He did not sign it nor leave any indication of who it was from. The message vanished in a puff of smoke. He grabbed a second page, his handwriting sloppier with each frantic word he wrote. Just as the second note disappeared, there was a loud pounding on his chamber doors.

Eris knew what was coming then. He steeled himself as he opened the heavy wooden door, revealing four of his father’s most trusted guards. He did not ask them to explain themselves. Eris merely raised his chin, stepped into the hall, and closed the door behind him. His heart pounded with every step he took as the guards led him down, down, down into the coldest depths of the sprawling Forest House. Eris tried to clear his mind, tried to remain calm as they arrived in the frigid dungeons. With a deep breath in, he let himself be guided into the familiar cell. It had been worth it, he told himself. He prayed he was right.

Lucien

Lucien stirred. The first things he heard were the low cooing of a morning dove, the steady trickle of a fountain. A warm breeze that smelled of spring wrapped itself gently around him. And then he felt a throbbing pain in the back of his head. His eyes remained closed. Suddenly, memories came flooding back to him in a violent rush. Jesminda, executed by his father, the unlocked cell door, fleeing through the forest, Orson dead by his blade, and Tamlin, Jasper—The scenes flashed in his mind.

Lucien was dragged to an empty cell near the stables outside and tossed roughly to the ground. No better than a caged animal. He sat numbly in the cold, hard dirt, trying to block out the memory of Jesminda’s cries, her pleas to his father, to him, to spare her. The sound of the blade withdrawn from its sheath. The glint as his own father angled the sword back, and—The opening of the cell door shook him from his thoughts. A plate of stale bread and water was placed on the ground. As the unfamiliar sentry left, Lucien did not hear the click of the lock sliding back into place. He rose and made his way to the door on silent feet. Unlocked. He glanced down. There upon the plate, concealed beside the bread, was a dagger. He did not question his luck. He palmed the dagger and opened the door.

And then he was running. Barreling through the brisk Autumn forest. Red and gold and orange streaked by him as he sprinted as fast as his legs would carry him south. His chest heaved with every step, until he tasted blood on his tongue and his lungs burned painfully. He could hear his brothers in pursuit of him, crashing through the branches and leaves scattered about the damp forest floor. They were close–their taunting jeers sounded loudly in his ears. He blocked out their words, pushed himself to run harder and faster. The air began to warm, and the reds and golds blossomed into greens and pinks and—a deafening roar cleaved the land. Tamlin. Dumb luck, or perhaps fate, that he was here when Lucien needed him most.

The beast appeared before him in a flash of fur and sharp fangs. Lucien ducked quickly and he heard the squelch of claws stabbed through flesh. Heard Jasper howl in pain. Lucien whirled as he brought his dagger up, just as Orson slashed his axe down upon his head. Lucien twisted at the last second to dodge what was surely a death blow. A wall of flame rose up between them. He let his sorrow and rage fuel him as he pushed that fire outward towards Orson. His brother roared in pain as the white-hot fire lanced his exposed side. Arden stepped up and met Lucien’s flame with a flare of his own. Metal and fire blasted and collided. And then Lucien was moving again, twisting low, angling that dagger upwards—steel met skin as the blade sunk deep into Arden’s throat. He choked, blood gurgling from his gaping mouth, and then collapsed. Dead.

It happened too fast. Lucien heard Tamlin roar in warning—he made to turn, but wasn’t quick enough to avoid the blunt edge of the axe that clobbered him in the back of the head. A flash of pain—and then darkness swallowed him whole.

Lucien was fully awake now. He cracked his eyes open against the soft light. Tamlin sat in a wooden chair to his left, a grim expression on his handsome face as he gazed back at Lucien.

Jesminda. No—Jesminda…she was dead. Murdered, as he watched uselessly. Lucien squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the image of her head rolling across the floor. He tried to breathe but the air was trapped in his lungs. He was suffocating, gasping for breath, choking on the pain that wrapped itself around his heart. Lucien wept.

Soon his body was shaking with the force of his sobs, and an agonized moan crawled its way out of his throat. He heard screaming—excruciating, gut-wrenching screaming, and realized it was coming from his own lips. He tore at his long hair, attempted to peel the flesh from his bones so he might not be forced to live within his own skin. He wished he were dead—tried to smother himself in flame and burn away the remaining scraps of his withered soul. Strong, callused hands stopped him before he could do any damage. He thrashed and fought against them—wished those hands would grow claws once more and lodge themselves deep inside his chest. But instead, they gripped him firmly, an anchor to the world he so desperately wished to leave. Tamlin said nothing as he held Lucien tightly. Lucien could smell the salt of his own tears and felt like his heart had been cleaved in two. The pain was unbearable—he begged for someone, anyone, to end him. He sunk deeper into despair—let it drag him down, down, down, until he was drowning in it. He sank deeper still, where the screaming was quieter. Until he heard nothing but the frantic beat of his own wretched, cowardly heart.

Eris

It was not the first time Eris had found himself locked in the darkened chamber beneath the palace. His knees dug into the cold stone of the dungeon floor, his hands bound to each side at an uncomfortable angle. The restraints dug painfully into his wrists as he clenched his hands against the numbness that had slowly taken hold since he’d been chained up the evening prior. His ears strained to pick up any sounds outside the room, but all he could hear was the quiet trickle of water on the slick stone walls. Eris tried and failed not to let his mind wander to thoughts of Lucien’s escape, whether he had made it to Spring unharmed, if Tamlin had received his warning to haul ass to his northern border and await Lucien’s arrival. Eris prayed the note had reached him in time. That the second note had found its way into the correct hands. Before he could truly spiral, he heard several sets of footsteps growing louder in their approach.

Eris’s heart began to race as he heard the door swing open, those footsteps echoing off the cell’s damp walls. His father’s face appeared before him and rage glowed in his muddy brown eyes.

“You’ll be pleased to know your traitorous brother made it beyond Spring’s borders. With two of your own brothers killed in the fight,” Beron snarled at him. Eris said nothing–waited for the guilt to come. Instead, he felt relief. Brothers they might be, he held no true affection for the lot of them, save for Lucien. He wondered who had landed the killing blows. He hoped it had been Tamlin, so as to spare Lucien from further violence. He knew his brothers had been following orders, but they had always done so with such glee, seeming to enjoy the pain they inflicted on their father’s behalf. Eris did not ask who, specifically, had been killed. He did not want to know.

Sharp pain lanced across his face as Beron struck him once, twice. A punch to his gut stole the air from his lungs. He could taste the coppery tang of blood on his tongue.

“What will it take for you to learn that you are only useful to me if you obey?” Beron mused. Eris said nothing, gritting his teeth against the rage that coursed through him. He had never denied his father anything, save this. He was as loyal and obedient as his favored hounds. A dog to command. His father glared down at him a beat longer, a cruel smile forming on his lips. Beron jerked his head to someone behind him and Eris heard the familiar clink of a weapon being removed from a belt chain. He glanced briefly over his shoulder to confirm his suspicions.

Though he had long since learned how to pace himself, to weather the pain, it did not stop the dread from pooling in his stomach as his father’s sentry unfurled the whip at his side. Eris faced forward once more, began tunneling deep down within so as to hide from the pain of what was to come. Cold sweat started to bead on his forehead as one of the guards stepped forward and tore Eris's shirt, exposing his back to the chilled air. He braced himself against the searing sting of the whip against his flesh, but it did little to lessen the blow as the leather slashed through the skin on his back. He grunted at the pain that sliced through him, but swallowed the scream in his throat.

“Again,” Beron commanded.

The whip cracked again, and Eris jerked, hissing through his teeth. He did not regret refusing his father’s order to kill the female. Jesminda, Lucien had screamed. His long life had taught him that doing his father’s bidding served him far better than rebelling ever would. But this—what had been done in that wretched throne room—Eris was right to take no part in it. He could still hear the sound of the female’s head as it tumbled to the floor with a wet thump. Could still hear Lucien’s agonized cry as he was forced to watch. No—he did not regret it. Only that he hadn’t been able to stop it.

Again and again, the whip tore into his ruined back, retracing scars from previous punishments. Eris arched against the agony, panting through clenched teeth. He felt the blood dripping down his sides, along with a sharp throb of pain with each beat of his shredded heart.

The whip cracked again, tearing his skin down to the bone, and Eris finally screamed. He heard the sentry step back and sagged slightly against the chains. Beron gripped Eris’s chin roughly and forced him to meet his eyes.

“Consider this a warning, boy, should you think to disobey me again. Next time I'll have your head. Or perhaps I'll allow one of your remaining brothers the pleasure of ending you.” His father released him and strode out of the chamber.

Eris hung there, limply, his body trembling from the pain. He choked down the sob building in his chest, hating his father, his brothers, his life. Himself. The magnitude of his misery, his loneliness, washed over him in waves.

He should have been accustomed to it by now—the punishments, the beatings. Eris had spent much of his time growing up trying to protect his brothers, Lucien especially, from his father’s wrath. He had shielded them as much as he could, often taking the brunt of it himself. He had loved Lucien dearly, and still did. But that love terrified Eris to no end. He had quickly learned that caring for anyone in his father’s court was a weakness. That those he loved would soon be turned into weapons to be wielded against him. So Eris had shut Lucien out—treated him like trash until he was sure Lucien despised him, as he did the rest of their brothers. It hurt Eris—to see the warmth slowly disappear from Lucien’s gaze whenever their eyes met, day by day, until none remained. But it had been worth it if it kept the full force of Beron’s rage focused elsewhere, for a time.

The sentries, momentarily forgotten, shuffled forward and unclasped the chains encasing Eris’s wrists. He slumped forward, his arms too numb to catch himself as he face-planted on the hard stones with a grunt. Neither male addressed him as they exited the cell, though they left the door open. He was free to leave, it would seem. Yet he remained facedown on the ground, his hands tingling as they slowly regained feeling. A single tear traced a path down Eris’s cheek, mingling with the blood pooled beneath him. He breathed deeply, the musty air thick in his lungs. Seconds, minutes, hours later, perhaps, he finally rose, his back screaming in protest as he pushed himself up from the floor.

It would not do to dwell on things he could never have. He was a pathetic fool to even let himself consider what it might be like to see their friendship restored. To have Lucien once again look at him with admiration and light in his eyes. As Eris slowly limped out of the chamber, he swore to himself he would never show such weakness again. Lucien had made it to Spring safely. Eris didn’t let himself consider the emotional state he might be in. He was safe. It was enough.

[acourtofthought]

Cassian Bonus Chapter Ending “I’ll mail the letter tomorrow morning.” Nesta paused with her hand on the knob and looked over a shoulder. “You know nothing about who I am, and what I’ve done, and what I want. And while we’re on the subject . . . Send someone else next time. If I see you on my doorstep, I’ll scream loud enough for the servants to come running.” He gaped at her, the pain ebbing enough that he could stagger upright. (Nesta had kneed him in the balls) But Nesta was gone, slipping down the hall, where some servant called out to her and she murmured a response

Cassian did not circle over the house. But he could feel Nesta’s attention as he soared for the wall. Even shielded from sight, he could feel those blue-gray eyes on him.The feeling chased him all the way back to Velaris.

Azriel Bonus Chapter Ending

Something sparked in Azriel's chest, but he only nodded his thanks and left. He could picture it, though, as he ascended the stairs back to the House proper. How Gwyn's teal eyes might light upon seeing the necklace. For whatever reason....he could see it. But Azriel tucked away the thought, consciously erasing the slight smile it brought to his face. Buried the image down deep, where it glowed quietly. Lucien's POV Ending "When I sleep," she murmured, "I can hear your heart beating through the stone." She angled her head, as if the city view held some answer. "Can you hear mine?" He wasn't sure if she truly meant to address him, but he said, "No, lady. I cannot." Her too-thin shoulders seemed to curve inward. "No one ever does. No one ever looked - not really." A bramble of words. Her voice strained to a whisper. "He did. He saw me. He will not now." Her thumb brushed the iron ring on her finger. Another male's ring, another marker that she was claimed -

Cassian's POV features this line from Nesta: “You know nothing about who I am, and what I’ve done, and what I want.

And Lucien's features this line from Elain: Her too-thin shoulders seemed to curve inward. "No one ever does. No one ever looked - not really." They seem quite similar, don't they? Both have an Archeron sister claiming not to be seen by their mate. This is how SJM writes her romance. The characters might be inexplicably drawn to one another but it's not instant love, they don't know everything about the other from the start. Cassian's POV took place after meeting Nesta on only a few occasions and Lucien's took place when he met Elain for the very first time. They might have a general sense of what they need (i.e., Cassian saw beyond the physical for Nesta from the start and Lucien instinctively knew to take Elain to the sea (where their house in the human lands was or to a garden) but they're still learning about them as they go. Az's is a bit of a mirror to the above as well when he says he wouldn't call Gwyn a friend at that moment in time. Logically, why would they be friends? They had never interacted outside of training so it would be strange if they were friends all of a sudden (SJM is a slow burn type of author, can't you tell?). But it's not long until we get the sense Cassian really starts to understand Nesta, he realizes that one of her greatest frustrations is not being able to do more to protect others so he extends that to her. He studied Nesta for a long moment. His voice was rough as he said, "Five hundred years ago, I fought on battlefields not far from this house. I fought beside human and faerie alike, bled beside them. I will stand on that battlefield again, Nesta Archeron, to protect this house - your people. I can think of no better way to end my existence than to defend those who need it most." And it's not long after Lucien's POV that we see the same progression for him, where Elain wants to be seen and it's clear Lucien does. Where she's upset that her choices were taken away from her so he removes himself from the equation so she can go after what she wants (Graysen). "No - I didn't have time. I felt her, but..." A blush stained his cheeks. Lucien just stared and stared at my sister, as if he'd never seen her before. He glanced at Elain, who was again studying her lap. "I'm not need here. I'll fight if you need me to, but..."

And it's shortly after Solstice that Az understands Gwyn's desire to not be powerless again, where he shows admiration for the work she's done and believes in her ability to make it through the Rite. But the most important similarity in these three situations (I don't think you can include Chaol into this comparison considering he'd hadn't met Yrene in his POV and the humans of TOG didn't have fae mating bonds) is that their thoughts revolved around one particular female at the end: Cassian's POV ended with Nesta literally telling him not to come back or she'd scream for help though he felt her eyes on him as he flew away and he couldn't stop thinking about that fact. Lucien's POV ended with him struggling with the knowledge that Elain is engaged to another male and has no need / want for him. Azriel's POV ended with him being clueless as to why Gwyn's happiness sparked something in his chest. But each was left open ended, with unfinished business with those females. Cassian couldn't stop thinking about Nesta, Lucien was upset over Elain's betrothal and Az will need to eventually realize why Gwyn's happiness brought him such joy. Elain and Az are not unfinished business. He admitted that he would regret going back to kiss her and she returned the necklace. which signals that her business with him is done. Had that been the end of the bonus than maybe an argument could be made but since it ended with Gwyn, it's clear the direction the author is going to be heading down the line. Also, Cassians POV dealt with his emotions for Mor: And then there would be the matter of explaining it to everyone. To Mor. His blood chilled.

And Cassian had been jealous—of Mor’s shy glances at Azriel in those first few weeks. So when Mor had asked him to bed her . . . He’d done it. A jealous, stupid prick, he’d done it, and regretted it at that very frst thrust, when he’d felt her maidenhead yield to him, and realized the enormity of what she’d done.

He’d had lovers, some for a night and some for months, and Mor had never cared, but . . .This woman standing before him like a pillar of steel and fame . . . Cassian didn’t want to tell Mor about her. About how he’d touched her neck.

Lucien's POV dealt with his emotions for Jesminda: She had teased him, taunted him - seduced him so thoroughly that he hadn't wanted anything but her. She'd seen him not as a High Lord's seventh son, but as a male. Had loved him without question, without hesitation. She had chosen him. Betrayal, queasy and oil, slid through his veins. He'd said the same to Jesminda once. In order for a MMC to truly move forward with a FMC, we need to see them address the emotions for love interests of their past.

It's a curious thing then, that Az refuses to answer Rhys about Mor in relation to his actions with Elain. And probably why he's still clueless as to why the thought of Gwyn's happiness sparked something in his chest. He can't move forward with romantic feelings for her until he's ready to deal with his emotions for Mor. These are the important take aways from the Bonus POVs. Not that Cassian wanted a taste of Nesta and Azriel wanted a taste of Elain. Cassian confirms he had lust for Mor but that didn't mean anything. Lucien confirms he was ensnared by Jesminda's seduction yet they weren't endgame. What matters is the hard truths they're willing to face; Cassian acknowledging that he feels some guilt over being drawn to Nesta because of Mor and Lucien feeling guilt over being drawn to Elain because of Jesminda (with Az clearly not ready to face the truths of his past) and that the POVs ended with one female in their thoughts. Nesta (not Mor) for Cassian Elain (not Jesminda) for Lucien Gwyn (not Mor or Elain) for Az

[shadowqueenjude]

Any writer in this fandom willing to write Lucien's POV of the continent in ACOWAR for me? 🥺👉👈

[corcracrow]

the most elucien song I can think of is adore you by harry styles

nobody asked but i’m saying so anyway because it’s fact

like the soft summer vibes of it, mwah it’s beautiful

[babyblueetbaemonster]

Another day another slay

[yaralulu]

Lucien’s care and protectiveness over tamlin is something that has been so evident and obvious throughout this entire series that if sjm tries to change that narrative once we get lucien’s pov and we’re inside his head, I’ll actually blow myself up.I see some bullshit line about how tamlin has always sucked and I’m out of hereeeee.I know sjm hates tamlin and will take every opportunity to shit on him but at this point there is no need to obliterate their friendship/tamlin’s character any further.Let us have this one thing woman 😭.

Lucien’s inner monologue about tamlin should be less “i actually hate this man” and more “damn he looks like shit rn i kinda wanna hug him”.Get the vibe right sjm.

[animezinglife]

"Do you like Elain?"

Honey.

I adore Elain.

I appreciate Elain.

I respect Elain.

I love Elain.

My tomboy self has recently been on a sundress and plant kick because of Elain's influence.

I wish I were more like Elain.

Does that answer this silly question?

I missed the "Eluciens, do you like Elain?" poll and I'm mad about it, so here's my answer.

Yes, there are things I wish she did differently just like every other character, but I'm excited to see where her story leads.

[clockwork-ashes]

All You Have Is Your Fire - Part IV

Find Part I here :)

Summary: 'I can hear your heart beating through the stone.' For the briefest of moments, Lucien wondered if his mate would know exactly when his heart’s steady rhythm came to a sudden stop.

Note: A huge, huge thank you to the lovely @bettdraws who literally deserves all the credit and whose post inspired me to start writing this. I could not stop thinking about this head canon, and it was so kind of you to let me try and make a story from it :) And a huge thank you to everyone reading!

Tag List: @anishake

Part V >>

The Autumn Court was on the constant verge of death, Elain knew, but it was still the loveliest place she had ever seen. Eris had winnowed them first to the border, where the trees created a canopy so thick, she couldn’t even see the sky. The richest reds, the darkest oranges, and the deepest greens had surrounded Elain. Cora had looked as equally impressed by the change of scenery, and Elain had wondered if the woman had ever left the stifling Hewn City. 

Autumn was everything Elain had imagined the lands of faerie to be like. The chill was biting, she had noticed, cold like the first kiss of winter. She had been stunned into silence, had forgotten she was upset that Eris had not even let her say a proper goodbye to her family. 

Before Elain had had a moment to catch her breath, before she could truly appreciate the wild flowers and the unfamiliar trees, Eris had not bothered to warn her or Cora as he took them directly to the Forest House. 

Eris had let go of her hand so suddenly that Elain had stumbled, and had grabbed onto the woman who would act as her lady’s maid. Cora had gently supported her, shooting an angry glare at the Autumn heir’s turned back. 

Eris had led them through winding halls, windows dark at the late hour, torches their only light. Elain had realised that she much preferred the flickering flames of Autumn to the faelights ever-present in the Night Court.  

Eris had given them a moment to look at the guest suite, all wood and stone and comfortable carpets, before he had told Elain they would be going straight to Beron.

Elain understood that Lucien was in a great deal of danger, but the quick pace at which everything was happening was enough to make her light-headed, unsteady. 

“The High Lord is expecting you,” Eris offered her his arm, but when Elain hesitated, he added, “and it’s best not to keep him waiting.” 

Elain did not reach for Eris, instead she asked, “Because I’m Lucien’s mate?” She very nearly spat the last word at Eris in distaste. Saying Lucien’s name out loud was like a vicious blow, especially since she so often refused to allow herself the liberty. On the other side of the wall it was improper, Lucien wasn’t Elain’s husband, and the familiarity with which his name fell from her lips was enough to rattle her. 

Eris shook his head, the firelight from the torches reflecting off his golden jewellery. “Because he received your letter.” His answering smile was ruthless, that of a wolf. The expression didn’t reach his amber eyes. 

Elain only frowned in confusion, she glanced at Cora. “I never–” 

Elain did not get the chance to finish her statement, not as Eris waved his hand elegantly and a letter floated gently past her face. She snatched the paper from the air, her eyes scanning its contents with growing disbelief. 

The Night Court’s wax seal was still intact and the letter was simply worded, respectful. 

Lord Eris Vanserra, it is with great urgency that I write to you, so that I might request an audience with the High Lord of the Autumn Court…

Elain continued to skim what was clearly a plea for help. Cora moved closer to peek over Elain’s shoulder and she made a low sound of displeasure. 

What surprised Elain the most was not what was written in the letter, but rather the elegant, looping scrawl, exactly like her own. Even the signed name, Lady Elain Archeron, was identical. Her lips parted slightly in surprise at the perfect forgery. 

Before Elain could say anything, Eris spoke, a hidden warning in the tone of his voice. “I received your letter just in time, Lady, my father was growing tired of waiting for someone to notice Lucien’s absence.” His words were careful, so much so that Elain wondered if Eris was worried about someone listening in on their conversation. He offered her his arm once more, a flawless gentleman. 

This time, Elain was quick to loop her arm through his, nodding in understanding. Briefly Elain wondered how Eris had managed to forge the letter so well, but she pushed those thoughts aside, vowing to bring it up again at a later time. The light blue fabric of her sleeve was an ugly contrast to the deep green colour of Eris’s velvet jacket. “I am glad, then,” Elain said softly, “that I sent my letter to you when I did.” 

Elain saw as Eris’s shoulders dropped ever so slightly in relief, although he said nothing in response. The thick oak doors of the guest room opened silently, the long hallway beyond was menacing, shadows dancing as the torches flickered. 

Elain took a deep breath to calm herself, her posture perfect, just like her mother had taught her a lifetime ago. Elain wondered if the steady heartbeat she could hear was her own or Lucien’s, now that distance no longer separated them.   

Eris stepped forward, and Elain followed, Cora just a few steps behind. Elain was grateful for her strong and silent presence, but before all three of them could walk past the stone entrance of the room and into the hallway, Eris paused. 

Auburn brow raised, he glared at Cora with flames in his eyes. “Where do you think you’re going?” 

“I’ve come with the Lady, shouldn’t I stay by her side?” Cora snapped, her words sharp and lacking any of the respect one would have expected her to show a prince. Elain liked her instantly. 

“It’ll only annoy my father,” Eris replied, glancing at Elain before he faced Cora once more. 

Cora looked like a queen, Elain thought, her braid as good as any gold crown. “And leave the High Lady’s sister alone with you?” The last word was a snarl.

“You’re her lady’s maid, not her personal guard,” Eris responded, not taking his eyes off Cora. She continued to glare, and Eris smiled mockingly, daring her to argue. 

Elain felt as though the tension between them could be cut with a knife, locked as they were in their silent battle of wills. 

“Besides,” Eris drawled, “what use will you be against the wrath of a High Lord?” 

A blush stained Cora’s brown cheeks, the fingers of her one hand curling into a fist. Elain wondered if she would have hit Eris, but she did not wait any longer to find out if that would have been the case. 

“Thank you, Cora,” Elain interjected. “I’ll be fine.” Her words were confident, even though Elain herself was anything but. 

Cora did not seem satisfied with the way the night seemed to be unfolding, but all she did was sigh in frustration. “Good luck, then,” she said quietly. “I’ll be here when Lucien is freed.” 

Cora’s words were enough to spark an ember of hope within Elain, but as she walked arm-in-arm with Eris to the throne room, panic was beginning to send unwelcome shivers down her spine. 

“Don’t be afraid,” Eris murmured, not looking at Elain. He continued to walk at an unhurried pace, the sound of his boots hitting the stone in a steady rhythm. The carved double-doors of the throne room towered just a few more steps ahead of them. “No harm will come to you, Elain, I swear it on my life.”  

Elain did not know why she believed Eris’s words, but she tightened her grip on his arm, grateful. The doors opened, the hinges groaning with the weight of the wood, and the throne room was revealed, so unlike the one Rhysand and Feyre had in the Hewn City. 

Beron Vanserra sat on a throne of ancient maple, leaves carved into the thick wood with a steady hand. Elain’s first thought was that he looked nothing like Lucien, but there was a ghost of Eris in the turned down corners of his full lips. 

Elain fought not to shrink into herself, to keep her head high, at his assessing gaze. He was frightening, and Elain could almost feel his power within the space. Beron was the oldest High Lord, Feyre had warned her, and Elain wondered if that made him the most dangerous. 

The Lady of Autumn was a striking figure in a gown the colour of fresh blood. Her throne was just as lovely as her husband’s, although it was smaller. Elain caught the way the lady straightened her back, how she brought herself forward to look at Eris. Her husband did not see the desperation in her eyes as she looked at her eldest son, but Elain recognized the emotion, had seen it before on countless women hoping for miracles. 

Eris stopped right before the pair of rulers, dropping his hold on Elain’s arm. Elain elegantly curtsied, her face downturned, the movements practised, and she was grateful for the lessons she had suffered as a young girl. Elain was surprised momentarily as Eris bowed slightly at the waist beside her, the respectful gesture clearly deference to his High Lord and not the comfortable greeting of a parent.   

“Lady Elain Archeron of the Night Court,” Beron’s voice was harsh like the slash of a knife. “You have requested this meeting, and while I am pleased by your arrival to my court, I can offer you very little of my time.”    

Elain raised her head, smiling pleasantly. “High Lord, Lady” she greeted as her eyes flicked between them, “thank you for welcoming me to your lovely home.” 

“You were most troubled in the letter we received,” Beron stated, raising a dark eyebrow as he silently asked her to make her case. 

“I am troubled still,” Elain responded, trying her best to twist her words together just as faeries did. It came unnaturally to her, but her time in Velaris had allowed her to become familiar with the specific patterns of the High fae. “I’ve asked only for a moment of your time to make a most significant request.”

Beron’s answering smile was cruel, embers flared in his dark eyes. “Then make your request, child.” 

It was intended to be an insult, Elain was sure, calling her a child. Elain was not bothered by it, and she looked straight at the ancient being before her, chin held high. “I have come to request that my mate, Lucien Vanserra, seventh son of Autumn, be allowed a safe return to the Night Court.”

Elain’s words rang clear in the near-empty throne room. The Lady of Autumn’s sharp breath was like the shattering of glass as they all waited for the High Lord’s response. 

“The bond has not yet been accepted, everyone knows this.” Beron waved a hand dismissively. “You have no claim to him.”

“High Lord,” Elain began, and Eris reached for her elbow, tension in the set of his mouth. “We were to be married,” she continued, ignoring his silent warning. 

“When?” Beron Vanserra questioned, casting a devastating glare in his eldest son’s direction. It was clear that the High Lord doubted Elain’s words. 

Panic gripped Elain so suddenly she could barely breathe. “In two weeks' time, on the first day of Spring.” Elain hoped she sounded certain, confident. Eris looked ready to shove her behind him, his body angled in a way that suggested he was ready for a violent confrontation. 

Beron’s lips curled into a vicious smile. “I believe you, Lady Elain, and take no offence, but I still must confirm the truth of your claims with my son.” 

No sooner had the High Lord finished his sentence and the throne room’s doors opened with a groan. Elain couldn’t help but turn around, drawn to her mate. 

You are mine. 

The thought crashed through her mind like a wave against the shore, shocking and unwanted. Elain could finally sigh in relief, though, at seeing Lucien bruised and bloody, but knowing that he was relatively unharmed. 

Lucien looked proud, arrogant, as he was shoved further into the throne room by a careless guard. He did not notice Elain at first, not until she tugged on the golden thread that tied them together. Beron watched them like a predator watched prey, hungry for a slip in their demeanour. 

Elain’s brown eyes met Lucien’s, and all the fire he had possessed a moment before quickly went out. Like the first rays of the sun going over the horizon, horror dawned daybright on the lovely features of Lucien’s face. 

Elain looked at Lucien, the smell of burning wood and dying leaves thick in the air, and she wondered if perhaps she had made a terrible mistake coming to the Autumn Court.

[bookishfeylin]

Sorry y'all but the Inner Circle is 100% in character in ACOSF. They've never loved Feyre as her own person and were never her "family" because they've always been willing to put what Rhysand wants first. It's been that way from day one. She's just an accessory to Rhysand to them.

[lainalit]

Ship wars in and of themselves are just silly and stupid but you will not convince me that calling elain boring or Azriel a fuckboy is on the same level as calling Gwyn an evil light singer who lied about her SA and calling Lucien ugly because he is disabled

[the-darkestminds]

Finishing up another Eris POV fic! This one also has Lucien’s POV! 👀 I had no idea writing could be so fun?? This one is about Jesminda’s death. Has lots of pain and suffering for my Vanserra boys. I love them sm. Also why is it so hard to come up with character names? I’m trying to fill in the unnamed Vanserra brothers and I am struggling.

[acourtofthought]

Hey I love your posts and would love to know your opinion about this one: https://at.tumblr.com/melrielsworld/okay-so-im-working-on-a-theory-here-that-the/v5e6t2eu44ul. It's writen by an antielucien so you don't have to share it if you want to avoid problems with "the other side" but I really don't understand how someone can misunderstand a text so much to say this. Elain's and Lucien's mating bond is real and they're not mind speaking, Feyre is clearly hearing Elain through Lucien's mind and that's why it's written in italics. E*riels really need to learn how to read. And what do you think about that theory?? I personally think they're not, but maybe they do have fae blood in them. I think Lucien is the one with starborn powers.

Hello and thank you so much!

I'm guessing this person has blocked me since I'm unable to pull up their blog. Based off what you've told me though, it really does sound like they completely skewed the text.

I'm not sure how they could begin to claim anyone is "mind speaking" considering the exact wording of Lucien's inner monologue.

"An ache like a blow to the chest went through him." Does that sound like something someone would say to another person?

Or.....

"He didn't expect her to answer, and he gave himself all of one more minute before he'd rise from this chair and leave."

Or..... the fact that he references everyone by name. If you're mind speaking to someone you don't say things like, "But there she was. His mate." if he were mind speaking with Elain. He'd say, "there you are! You're my mate." Or if he were mind speaking with Feyre, he wouldn't say, "That the circle of people who now claimed to be Feyre's new family." You'd say, "the circle of people who are your new family."

Not to mention Feyre later feels guilty for violating Lucien’s thoughts which proves she wasn't mind speaking with him. Or had she heard a mind speaking conversation between Elain and Lucien, she would have felt guilty for violating both Lucien and Elain's thoughts.

Any way you look at it, it was clearly only Lucien's very private thoughts.

[shadowqueenjude]

They watched me, too closely to be casual. Tamlin straightened a bit and said, “You look … better than before.” Was that a compliment? I could have sworn Lucien gave Tamlin an encouraging nod. “And your hair is … clean.” Perhaps it was my raging hunger making me hallucinate the piss-poor attempt at flattery. Still, I leaned back and kept my words calm and quiet, the way I might speak to any other predator. “You’re High Fae—faerie nobility?” Lucien coughed and looked to Tamlin. “You can take that question.” I ignored the release of tightness in my chest at that. “But what am I to do with my life here?” I pressed. “Do you—do you wish me to earn my keep? To work?” A stupid question, if he hadn’t considered it, but … but I had to know. Tamlin stiffened. “What you do with your life isn’t my problem.” Lucien pointedly cleared his throat, and Tamlin flashed him a glare. After an exchanged look I couldn’t read, Tamlin sighed and said, “Don’t you have any … interests?”

NAAAAAA cuz going back and reading shit like this, I just HAVE to know what the hell Lucien was thinking in these moments. He's literally Tam Tam's wingman 😭

[nocasdatsgay]

From the Ashes, The Wildflowers Grow

Chapter 1: Family

Word Count: 2675

CW: IDK a baby? None

Chapter Summary: Eris and his wife, Celeste, hold a family get-together to introduce their new child.

Also read it on A03 Here

MasterPost and full fic summary here

First time posting chapters on tumblr AND ao3 so comments, likes, etc are welcome and appreciated.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Waiting in his chambers with his mother, Eris felt the wards break. He rolled his eyes up to the ceiling and watched the magic simmer. He then watched as they immediately repaired themselves. 

“Your son is here,” he said, with a sigh to his mother. He stood from his chair. “Dramatic as ever.”

Not even a moment later, the doors to the chambers opened. No knock; his brother never knocked. There was a squeal of a female and golden blonde hair rushing to him. 

“Eris,” Elain said, hugging him. Eris took a moment to realize what happened and hug her back. She pulled away and looked towards his mother. She gasped. “Is that the baby?”

“Good to see you Elain,” he said with a slight chuckle. 

She left him quickly with her lilac dress twirling around her feet, and went to the couch his mother occupied. She murmured her greetings and his mother handed her the babe swaddled in a green blanket. Elain sat beside her and he could hear his daughter’s little grunts from being shuffled around.

“Oh Eris, she’s beautiful.”

Eris felt another presence beside him. “Where’s your wife?” 

He looked toward his brother. Eris was surprised to see him in a tunic and trousers, and not in day court attire. Coupled with Elain’s dress that meant they must have come from Spring. 

“She’s napping. I’d rather not wake her. She refuses to rest. So when she does, I don’t disturb her.”

“Sounds like Celeste.” Lucien walked over to his mate. 

“You know you can't keep breaking the wards, Lucien.” Eris crossed his arms. “You’ll start a war because you’re too lazy to walk in.”

“I keep telling him that,” Elain said. “But he doesn’t listen.”

Lucien himself replied by dismissively waving a hand and giving his mother a hug. He then peered down at the bundle in Elain’s arms. “Oh thank the cauldron, she looks like her mother.”

“Careful,” Eris frowned. His mother didn’t suppress her laugh. 

Lucien only smiled at him. “Have you named her yet?” 

Eris didn’t answer him. He heard familiar footsteps to his right and tried not to scowl as his wife rounded the corner. She had changed into a red knit sweater and brown trousers. He was at least happy she didn’t feel the need to put on something more formal. Her brown hair looked hurriedly put into a bun, loose strands framing her face. The dark rings were still under her eyes. He wanted to tell her to go back to bed but he knew not to argue in front of family. She gave them all a smile and Lucien walked over to her to hug her. 

“I was just telling your husband what a blessing your child looks just like you,” he teased. 

“I heard,” she replied with a little yawn. “But she does have his hair.” 

“She’s beautiful, Celeste.” Elain told her with a smile. 

Celeste said her thanks while Lucien stepped back and looked her over. Eris glared but didn’t say anything. He knew it was ridiculous, but he refused to feel guilty for being jealous and protective. Even if they’d been married for nearly a century. 

Lucien frowned, “Eris was right, you still need rest. You look absolutely terrible.”

“Lucien,”  his mother hissed from the couch. 

Eris didn’t bother to cut his eyes to his brother. Celeste smacked him on the arm for the both of them. Eris chuckled when he saw Elain, still holding the babe, glared over for a brief moment before schooling her features. 

“Elain, come get your mate,” she laughed. “It’s been over a week. I’m fine.”

“She refuses to let me help,” Eris interjected. Celeste rolled her eyes. “It’s the truth. I practically have to steal my own child to bond with her.” 

“Now that is a lie if I ever heard one,” Celeste came over and took his hand. “If I’m not holding her, he is. Edith said it would spoiler her.”

“Nonsense,” his mother replied. “She’s always said that. What she didn’t tell you is when she was my healer, she coddled every single one of my boys.” 

Celeste grinned. “I think she says it mostly because Eris also takes her to all his meetings even if she’s sleeping.” 

He brought her hand up and kissed the tops of her knuckles. He held her gaze tightly. “How can I not? I love to show off your work.”

Lucien made a gagging noise. “Please get a room.” 

“These are our rooms,” Celeste replied. 

Eris pulled her to him and kissed her cheek, then her lips. He was very pleased with the way she hummed in response, kissing him back. 

“Disgusting,” Lucien grumbled. 

Elain, ever the polite one, changed the topic. “Did you name her?” 

Celeste pulled away, and turned towards her. “We have.” She looked back at Eris. 

She asked him a silent question and he nodded. He saw the brief sadness in her eyes and he gripped her hand tight. He knew it would be hard for her, especially with Lucien present, but he stood by her decision when she asked before the baby was born. 

He watched her look over to Lucien. Her voice cracked a little when she said, “Her name is Andrea.” 

Realization washed over Lucien and his eyes widened. He looked to Eris but Eris only shrugged. Their mother, who had been watching quietly, stood and went to Lucien, squeezing his arm. Elain looked confused. 

“That’s a lovely name,” their mother replied. 

Celeste let go of Eris’s hand and she went to Elain to retrieve their child. “She’s named after Andras,” she said softly to her. “He was a dear friend,” she turned to Lucien. “A very dear friend to the both of us back in Spring. He gave his life for us to be free. I wanted to honor him.” 

Lucien was still eyeing Eris. “And you’re fine with that?” 

Eris glowered. “She could have named her Tamlin and I would be fine with it. Truly Lucien, that’s the first comment you want to make?” 

Celeste thankfully took no offense and laughed. “Would you let me name your child after my former high lord?” 

Eris bristled a little at the reminder. “You labored for two days, as long as it wasn’t Morrigan I was fine with anything.” He swore he heard Elain snort at that remark. 

Lucien nodded and looked him over with a grin. “Just checking. You are the jealous type. But I should have guessed Celeste gets whatever she wants.”

Eris only looked to his beautiful wife again, holding their child. He didn’t bother to change his expression into something other than the adoration he felt. “You say that as if it’s a terrible problem to have.” 

Another knock came to the door. His other brothers, Piran, Asher, and Cillian filed into the room; followed by Celeste’s mother. 

“These three were loitering in the halls,” she stated with great humor before curtsying towards Lucien, Elain, and his mother. “Something about how my daughter’s husband would murder them if they woke her.” 

Eris didn’t hide his grin. “I can’t fathom where they heard such an outlandish story.”

“Eris,” Celeste shuffled the babe in her arms so she could smack his arm gently. 

“It was kinder for me to kill them if they woke you than to let them suffer your wrath.” Eris retorted. “Everyone in this room knows you’re a monster to wake up.” 

Celeste scoffed, dramatically looked very offended. “You wound me deeply.”

Piran stepped around them to greet Lucien and Elain. “Good to see you both.” He turned his head to Lucien. “You keep breaking the wards, Lucien and I’m going to have you banned from Autumn again.”

“I repaired them, didn’t I?” Lucien replied. 

“Boys,” their mother said with a tone of warning. “Lucien, promise to your brothers you will stop breaking the wards.” 

“You treat me as if I’m a youngling.” He rolled his eyes. 

Asher spoke up from near the door. “That’s because you act like one.” 

Everyone laughed, including Elain, which made Lucien scowl. She finally cut him a look and he replied. “Fine, I promise I won’t break the wards again.” 

Cillian said from beside Asher, “this room is a bit crowded. We came to fetch you all.” 

They all filed out the chamber and Eris took Andrea from his wife. He still wasn’t used to it; holding the little being the cauldron blessed them with. She was still so new to the world, for any stark features to truly stand out other than the red hair, pale skin, and her blue eyes. Her little face scrunched as she settled in his arms while he walked down the hall. He smiled down at her for a moment and glanced at his wife walking beside him. He’d probably never understand what he’d done to earn this kind of happiness. 

They all reached the conference room that was refurbished as a sitting lounge several decades ago. Once Andrea was placed in the cradle, he sat with his brothers to continue talking. Even Lucien joined them. Eris would never admit how much that meant to him. His mother and Celeste’s mother were off to one side chatting. They offered to sit close to the cradle to keep an eye on the baby. Elain and Celeste went to the far side of the room. Eris could hear his wife talking, catching bits of gossip from Spring and how Elain was bullying the Tamlin into letting her redo the flowerbeds during her visits. He did catch the shift in Elain’s tone that had him worried for only a moment. 

“I started that book you sent me. You are just as terrible as my sister,” Elain said. He could see the blush on her face from his seat. “You did not warn me about chapter 33. You told me it wasn’t that bad.”

Celeste laughed loudly. “It’s not! But if that made you blush, then skip 40. It’s nothing but-” 

He instantly knew exactly what they were discussing and immediately blocked them out. His wife’s reading habits was something he decided a long time ago was none of his business. He glanced over and his gaze caught Lucien’s. Apparently he was doing the same thing, from the look he shared. Eris bit back his laugh and focused on what his other brothers were saying. It wasn’t long before a knock came to the door, stifling the conversations in the room.

Rowen, the captain of the guard, poked his head in. “Lord Helion is here. Shall I escort him in?”

Eris looked at his brothers. Unspoken words were exchanged between them with a look and Eris stood. 

“I’ll go.” When he got to the door, he looked at Rowen and nodded to the room. “Go in and visit.” 

Rowen looked at him skeptically. He ran a nervous hand through his dark hair. “Are you sure?” 

“You’re family, aren’t you?” He patted his friend’s shoulder. “Go meet the baby. You haven’t even seen her yet.” 

Eris understood his hesitation. Rowen was a good leader but very reserved. Asher was always the more outgoing one and Rowen gladly let his husband take on those responsibilities. He watched Rowen stare into the room for a moment. He then gave Eris a nod and went through the door. He took a shortcut to the main hall and found Helion waiting near the front entrance.

“Afternoon Helion.” His greeting was short. Even after all the time that passed, their relationship was still complicated. 

“Eris.” Helion gave a little nod. “Apologies for running late. Congratulations. I know your mother is excited to have a new youngling around.”

As if summoned, footsteps echoed in the hall. Eris turned to see his mother and wife walking towards them, his wife holding their daughter.

“You look well.” Helion said to Celeste as they approached. 

Celeste scoffed. “Don’t flatter me, Helion. Lucien’s already told me I look worse for wear.” 

He frowned. “Did he?” 

Eris replied with a little pride, “she handled it.” 

Helion cut his eyes to Eris’s mother, who nodded. He looked back to Celeste. “You look like you have a new babe keeping you up at night, but that’s expected. All that considered, you do look well.”

“Eris helps.” Celeste readjusted the baby resting in her arms. “Would you like to hold her? Her name is Andrea.” 

Helion nodded and Celeste handed her over to him. He grinned as he took her, part of the blanket falling to the side as she squirmed in his hands. She seemed more awake, her legs shuffling under the white gown they’d dressed her in. Helion cooed a greeting to her and Eris could see her yawn. 

“Isn’t she beautiful?” His mother sighed and leaned onto Helion’s arm. 

Watching them awe over his child made Eris wonder if somehow, in another life, that would have been how they looked at their own babe. Would that have been how they looked at Lucien? How they would have looked at him? He must have let his emotions show. Celeste slipped her arm around his and took his hand. She weaved her fingers around his own and she squeezed gently. With a blink, he squeezed back. 

The moment didn’t last for long, however. Eris knew instantly by the quick little movements his daughter was making that she was about to start screaming. As if on cue, her face scrunched up. Celeste moved first, holding out her arms as Andrea let out a little cry. Helion thankfully wasn’t offended, letting out a soft chuckle. 

“And she’s hungry,” Celeste quickly took the wailing babe. She held her close and looked at Eris.  “I’m going to feed her and drag out Elain. I left her alone talking with my mother and she was trying to needle out of Elain her cinnamon bread recipe,” she added, making a face. 

“I’ll go with you.” His mother told Celeste and stood on her toes to kiss Helion on the cheek. 

Eris caught her gaze for a brief moment. He knew she was leaving them alone on purpose. He didn’t hide annoyance on his face. His mother flashed her eyes in a way that told him to behave. Eris crossed his arms. He and Helion turned to watch them retreat for a moment. Eris could taste the awkward silence hanging between them. 

Helion finally turned to Eris. “You know you’re welcome at my court, Eris.” Eris could only nod. “I do mean that. Next time Celeste visits, you should join her. I know your mother wants to see more of you. Especially with the baby-“ 

“I am aware.” Eris finally snapped back. He said it more harsher than he intended to. Helion frowned and Eris continued. “What I mean is, when Andrea is old enough to handle winnowing, I will send notice.”

That softened the Day High Lord’s demeanor. “There is a lot of bad blood between us. I’m not asking for a miracle; I’m merely asking to start making amends. We are family.” 

Eris nodded again. He knew he needed to try harder. It had been over a century. He was at least trying. Even if it pained him. 

Helion didn’t let the silence lapse for long. “I spoke with your mother and we both agreed there will be Pegasus waiting for her when she’s old enough.” 

“That’s hardly necessary,” Eris replied, taken aback. 

Helion shrugged, wearing a smirk eerily similar to Lucien’s. “So was giving us two smoke hounds as a mating present.” 

Eris rolled his eyes. “Again, hardly. Aspen and Jora missed my mother dearly.” 

Helion didn’t seem to buy it but also didn’t further argue. “Shall we?” He asked, looking toward the hall. 

“Of course,” Eris nodded. 

He told himself one day he would be used to the family he made and acquired, just like he had gotten used to the peace. For the time being, he would try to enjoy it for what it was and accept the happiness the cauldron and Mother granted him.

[antipinkkitten]

Day 10 Prompt: Theories

Chapter 41: Deals with devils

Summary: Azriel finds out about the deal, Rhys makes a plan, the wards are cleaved again as Elain finds out what to do. Plus, an ultra sweet Gwyn and Azriel scene.

A Court of Blooms and Blades (123331 words) by antipinkkitten Chapters: 42/50 Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, Crescent City Series - Sarah J. Maas, Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Elain Archeron/Lucien Vanserra, Elain Archeron/Azriel, Feyre Archeron/Rhysand, Nesta Archeron/Cassian, Azriel/Gwyneth Berdara Characters: Elain Archeron, Lucien Vanserra, Azriel (A Court of Thorns and Roses), Rhysand (A Court of Thorns and Roses), Feyre Archeron, Gwyneth Berdara Additional Tags: Slow Burn, Love Triangle, Rejection, Eventual Smut, POV Multiple, Mating Bond, Heartbreak, Break Up, Healing, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Therapy

[divinemare]

you know what would be absolutely perfect? we know acotar 5 is about elain, but like, there’s another book right? i NEED it to be like tog and have multiple povs, like, to have our three sisters as the main characters, but also include other characters povs