#Lucien having several heart attacks in one day over his secret affair being acknowledged as an important reality

[flowerflamestars]

the rolling in the graves snippet

Nesta’s voice emerged from the closet, breathless with anger in a way that piqued Lucien’s every interest, entire focusing concern. “It has to be the silk taffeta?” Word spit like a curse, coming around the corner half in a bodice she was quite actively falling out of, Nesta froze at the sight of Lucien in the middle of white rug she hated. Stopped, one arm crossed over her chest, and like it didn’t break him clean in half, smiled. That quick quirk, her real smile, sharp and small. “Lucien.” In daylight, in domesticity, her sister rattling around downstairs, Nesta saying his name. Lucien slid forward, mindful of the intimacy it truly was, brushing his palm down her bare arm. “Nesta.” She made a face, a quick-change of amusement, scowling gorgeous at the pause before she pulled him close. An exhale, the slow sloping sun of late afternoon picking up a brighter, bloodier metric across her walls, pink and gold across Nesta’s bare skin. Even Lucien’s magic wanted. “Nesta,” Lucien said again, heedless of half filling his mouth with her hair, “What’s wrong?” Shoulders low and teeth sharp against his collarbone, Nesta nuzzled as close as skin and bone would allow, before she sighed. “Fucking temple before dinner. Feyre wants us to match.” “Like children,” Elain said, sunnily, from the doorway, unbothered by their closeness or the hiss Nesta let out, pure temper in the sound. “Mother had better taste.” “Mother was a tyrant,” Nesta heaved out, tipped back in Lucien’s arms but not away, hand bunched in his shirt more than a small wonder. She turned in place, wordlessly offering him her half-bared back, pink-blotched neck curved down. “Vanserra’s good with knots.” His first, desperate urge, was to kiss her nape. To follow Nesta down, heady on the sheer acknowledgement of one true thing. His second was to start lighting things on fire. Lucien could see where she’d tried to get it herself. Where the boning, structuring sheer panels around her waist, had dug in so deep as to leave marks. “Gifts,” Nesta sighed, poisonous. “From the High Lord.”

[abraxos-is-toothless]

Summer Lovin’ (Lucien x Tarquin)

Hello all!

This fic is something new, and will be in multiple parts, updated as and when I finish the next part. It is a Lucien x Tarquin fic. I know what you’re think but I had this thought about them because everyone writes crackships, but then I told @tswaney17 and the two of us fell in love with the idea. She is to thank for this spiral.

I’m using my general ACOTAR tag list for this, but you do not have to read it. Also do let me know if you would like to be kept out of the tags for this in the future. (The title is just something for now because I honestly haven’t decided something yet😂)

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Lucien’s life had been chaotic lately, but still, he hadn't quite expected this to happen, of all things.

Elain had finally said she didn't want this bond between them. He knew it was going to happen and he couldn't exactly blame her. Having it related to a traumatic experience wasn't going to be something positive, and no matter what the Cauldron thought of them matching each other, accepting the bond wouldn't have made them happy. She had the Spymaster for that, and Lucien was grateful to see how much she’d healed since seeing her as skin and bones in the library of the House of Wind. Azriel helped her and loved her; it wasn’t something predestined or whatever other shit people liked to talk about. They had chosen it for themselves, and Lucien couldn’t fault them for being happy.

Then came one of the biggest bombshells of his life.

Beron was not his father.

Though he had found out several months ago, it was still fresh in his mind, as though it were yesterday that he had been told.

Lucien still didn’t understand what he was doing in the River House. Rhysand had turned up in the human lands this morning to get him. When he’d asked why, the bastard just smiled at him. Lucien had honestly thought that the male might have been taking him to his death. But then he winnowed them into an office, Feyre sitting in the window, little Nyx in her arms and a content smile on her face. Now it was a few hours later, Nesta had been and gone, collecting her nephew for his nap, and still, he didn’t know why they had brought him here.

“Are you going to tell me what is going on now, or do I have to wait several more hours?” Rhys was just smiling from where he sat on his chair, wings hidden and humming, making Lucien roll his eyes. Feyre came to sit next to her mate, giving him a reprimanding look. She gave Lucien a soft smile.

“Just a little longer, I promise.” Feyre had barely even finished the sentence when there was a knock on the door. “There we go.” She stood, smoothing the skirts of her dress before walking towards the door, trailing light fingers over Rhys’ shoulder as she went. When she pulled the door open, Lucien could honestly say he was shocked to see that it was Helion on the other side, led by Cassian.

“Your guest, dearest sister. Please, take him.” Helion let out a low chuckle behind the general. He placed a hand over his heart, faking pain when Cassian turned to look at him.

“You wound me. Why so hasty to get rid of me?”

“If you keep looking at time the way you are, I will not be held responsible for what Nesta does to you in a jealous rage.” Helion’s retort was cut off when the female in question shouted from somewhere else in the house.

“You can take him! He’s been a pesky annoyance as of late.” Cassian disappeared then, grumbling about how she didn’t mean that, he was never annoying and Nesta was madly in love with him. Which was true,-the madly in love part, not Cassian not being annoying- anyone could see it. Lucien would never tell her about the doe eyed look she got though. He valued actually being alive.

Helion laughed again, bending down to kiss Feyre on one cheek and then the other.

“Feyre, you look as lovely as you always do. Motherhood suits you.”

“That I agree with entirely.” Rhys said as his mate welcomed the newcomer into the room, closing the door gently behind them.

“I’ve told you Rhysand, no more babes until Nyx is older.” The male nodded in agreement, though Lucien thought they were going to be having this discussion a lot in the near future. She smacked him over the back of the head when he smirked, before sitting once more. He had a feeling they were talking to each other in secret again. “Have you made it so no one can hear us?” She asked when they were all settled. Helion now sat in the chair next to him, giving him a nod, Feyre sitting on the arm of Rhysand’s seat. The High Lord of the Night Court gave a dip of his head. “Warded the moment you closed the door, my love.”

“Good. Now, onto what we brought the both of you here for.”

Helion crossed an ankle over the other knee, hands linked where they rested in his lap. The High Lord of Day was dressed in a mix of gold and black. Gold fabric covered his body. One side of his chest left bare, clothing pinned at the other, flowing down his body, belted at the skirt. It was embroidered around the hem with reds and greens, and it seemed to shimmer like glitter under moonlight. Sandals wrapped around the dark skin of his calves. “Forgive me for asking, but why such secrecy? Can you not trust your own family?”

Lucien didn’t understand why they were being so careful all of a sudden, either. Any time he’d been in here, discussing all the problems they were still trying to overcome from the war with Hybern, they’d never stopped the others inside the house from being able to hear too. Rhys tilted his head slightly to the side. “The information will leave this room when you do, and you will do with it as you see fit.”

Lucien spoke then, frustrated. “You brought me here hours ago, told me absolutely nothing on why I had to come. Just tell us what’s going on.” Rhys raised a dark brow at him, but said nothing, so he turned to Feyre. She sighed, wringing her hands together before stopping herself. It was one of her nervous traits, and nervous traits accompanied by serious conversations never boded well.

“Back when we were trying to get the High Lords to work together, to help us against Hybern, you told us a story about Lucien’s mother, Helion.”

“Yes, I did.” Lucien hadn’t known that. But he supposed looking for Myriam and Drakon meant he wasn’t privy to a lot of information. There were things from the time he was gone that he was still learning about.

“Including the affair that you had.” Lucien sucked in a sharp breath, slowly looking at the male seated beside him. Beron was not nice to his mother, he knew that. But the man had spies everywhere, always had. He would have had to have known about his mother being with Helion. And if he knew, he would have had her killed for it.

���But my mother lives. My father wouldn’t have allowed her to live after he’d found out. And trust me he knows, he always knows when his family isn’t doing exactly what he wants them to.” Beron would have wanted to set an example, a vicious one at that. He showed that with what happened to Jessminda. Thinking of her only made Lucien think fondly of their good memories together now. He was no longer attacked by grief and self hatred, though waves of sadness would come and go. On the bad days, the storm in his head made them rough and dangerous, but those were few and far between.

Feyre started to look uncomfortable, causing Rhys to continue. “To have killed her, would have caused a scandal. He was younger then, and it wouldn’t have done him any good.”

Lucien still didn’t understand and it was starting to piss him off. His fire tempted its boundaries, flames growing hotter and higher in his frustration. It felt as if it were boiling his blood, heating his skin. He pushed it down into the depths where it belonged. “The only scandal is that she wasn’t faithful. The gods know he fucking hasn’t been. But then again it was always ‘do as I say and not as I do’ with him anyway.” Feyre simply shook her head at him. He opened his mouth to say something, to say how pointless this meeting was if they weren’t going to get to the point, when Helion suddenly sucked in a sharp breath from beside him. Lucien startled slightly.

“Mother above.” He breathed. “He can’t be. No, you’re lying, I don’t believe you.” Helion just stared at Lucien when he turned to him, amber eyes wide, mouth partly open.

“I’m not lying, Helion. I figured it out that day, and I’ve also had his mother confirm, but do not ask me how. You can see why Beron hated him the most now.” Lucien was severely done with them taking but still not explaining anything to him.

“Confirm what! What are you fucking talking about?” Rhysand looked at him, not even phased by his outburst.

“Beron is not your father, Lucien.” No. No. They were lying. When he looked at Feyre, when he looked at his friend, she gave him a small nod. He looked back at the male beside him, the male who seemed to be shocked into silence by the situation.

As if Lucien’s life couldn’t get anymore fucked.

It had been months since that day. Feyre told them again that she wouldn’t say how she’d been in contact with his mother, and Lucien didn’t want her to tell him anything anyway, no matter how much he wished to find out so he could see how she was. To talk to her himself. It would put her at risk, and Lucien wouldn’t allow that. And he knew now that Helion wouldn’t either. His father. The High Lord of Day was his father. Lucien was the sole heir to the Day Court. Helion had been nothing but welcoming in the time sincerely but he never pushed. Said that it didn’t have to mean anything, if it wasn’t what he wanted. Lucien had been a little confused with his wants at first, but had decided that he wanted them to acknowledge it. Wanted them to get to know each other.

Helion asked him a few weeks ago to stay with him. They didn’t have to be in the same building, that Lucien could stay wherever he liked in the Day Court, but he did want him to stay. Lucien had found he couldn’t refuse. Jurian and Vassa had been angry with him, saying that he was just abandoning them, that clearly he’d only used them. He had tried to explain that he’d just found the one who had actually fathered him. That he wanted them to have some kind of relationship, something that was robbed from the both of them. The two wouldn’t hear it, and told him to leave. So he went. They had each been closer to each other than they ever had with Lucien anyway.

That was how he was here now, standing in the garden of the small townhouse his father had found for him, the male in question standing across from him. Helion was standing in the early morning rays, arms at his sides, golden crown absent and spouting words Lucien never thought he’d hear in his life. “You want to do what?” Lucien said, still wondering if this was something that was actually happening. Helion sighed, rubbing both hands over his face for a moment, before pulling them away.

“I know that it’s not even been that long since we’ve found out the truth. And I know I don’t have the right to ask anything of you, but I think this could be the biggest step towards allying the courts together.” Lucien could see the frustration on his face, knowing that he struggled to ask this.

“You want me to marry the High Lord of Summer?”

“Yes.”

“Does he know that you want to do this?” Helion moved closer to him a little.

“I proposed a marriage alliance to Tarquin, but I didn’t say who. He agreed after a lengthy discussion, but only if who I chose wanted it. You know I haven’t formally announced that you are my son yet, and this would mean I’d have to.” Lucien folded his arms across his chest, suddenly self conscious.

“And you don’t want to announce it?”

“No.” Lucien stopped, hands tightening where they rested on his biceps. Helion, suddenly realising what he’d said, scrambled to backtrack. “Gods, I meant yes. Yes I want to tell them all I have a son. I just weren’t sure if you were ready for that.” His father let out an unsteady breath, meeting Lucien’s eyes for a second before looking away, only two repeat that over and over. “You don’t have to do this, but having my son marrying into another court makes the alliance stronger than if I were to pick out anyone else.” Lucien understood. And he understood wanting all of the courts to get along. It would mean they could truly live in peace, something they had all hoped for.

“I’ll do it.” Helion’s head shot up, disbelief written across his face.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“I really thought you were going to say no, probably yell at me or something.” Lucien’s brows furrowed, a red lock of hair falling in front of his face.

“Why would I do that?” Helion sighed, almost exasperated. Though Lucien noticed he didn’t hold tension in his shoulders anymore, seemed more relaxed and at ease now that Lucien had answered him.

“Because I didn’t want you to think I was using you. Also, I didn’t even ask. Do you like males? That should have been a question right? I mean, I just assumed, I shouldn’t have.” His father was rambling, and Lucien chuckled.

“Yes, I like males. And Tarquin is a good male, a good High Lord. It might not end in love but, I might get a friendship out of it.” Lucien smiled, a full grin, teeth showing. It was something he realised he hadn’t done in a long, long time. Suddenly the breath was sucked out of him, and strong arms wrapped around his body. It took a moment, but Lucien returned the gesture, hugging him back. Helion was taller than him, and nearly pulled him off of his feet.

“I’m sorry. Sorry for asking. I should have found another way.”

“It’s alright. I think this might be good for me. I had Tamlin and we both know how that ended. I didn’t fit, at the Night Court, not like they do. And Jurian and Vassa...well, I told you what happened. Maybe I’ll find a home with Tarquin.” Helion pulled back, holding his shoulders, a soft smile on his face.

“You may not think it, but you fit here. I never got to be there before, and part of me is glad because the not knowing kept you and your mother safe, but I’m here now. I want to be your father.”

“Thank you.” They decided to continue walking through the garden then. Mostly in companionable silence, occasionally asking the odd question here and there. Lucien was getting lost in his own thoughts. He wondered whether Tarquin would be okay that it was Lucien he was marrying. If they’d be able to make some kind of happy life together. The few times he’d seen him before, Lucien could admit he was attracted to him. It was easy to make conversation with Tarquin, to find common interests. There was the chance it would never turn romantic and Lucien would be okay with that, but at least he’d have a companion to live his life with.

Maybe this was his chance to get his own happy ending.

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Well there it is. The beginning. You’ll see Tarquin next time I promise but I just wanted to give you something to see if you were going to like the story or not. Please be respectful, I’m tired of the ship wars. I want this to be a safe place for me to post the ideas that I have.

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