#Lucnes

[shadowqueenjude]

Eris is one of the only people who can keep up with Nesta on the dance floor, Bryce is a dancer, Lucien as a courtier can certainly dance, Gwyn and Azriel can sing songs for Nesta to dance to, Nesta is constantly compared to a queen and Helion wants her (Rhys too but he’s in denial) and Lanthys promises to crown her the queen of queens, Nesta loves reading and so does Lucien, Tamlin canonically has a giant library and so does Helion, and you’re telling me Nesta ended up with…that.

[yaralulu]

Desperately need your thoughts on Lucnes 👀

My thoughts are sjm is a LOSER for changing her original plan and she needs to stop doing that. I’d understand her worries of lucien and nesta “shredding each other to pieces and not in a good way” if that’s not exactly what ended up happening with nessian????????? like you’re seriously gonna tell me lucnes would’ve been more toxic than nessian?? I think the fuck not.

Lucien would’ve understood nesta so fast and I genuinely think they would’ve enjoyed each others company so much. My girl was always destined to be with a vanserra sjm just hates seeing her happy 😒.

[ae-neon]

One of the first "Lucien x Nesta" fics I ever read wasn't a romance at all but a psychological horror

where Lucien came to Velaris for a visit and sensed something was off with the IC

And I just think it truly shaped my taste from there onwards, it's still one of my favourites

Read the woman in the walls by @bittermuire 💚

[feyres-divorce-lawyer]

redhead x archeron sister slaps every time

[sunbrightheart]

its the fact that lucien could be shipped with any of the three archeron sisters and it would slap every single time. elain? perfect, amazing, my favourite sunshine x sunshine babies gallivanting off to foreign lands as they navigate between the lines of precarious geniality and absolute reckless abandon. feyre? slendid, incredible, the infamous yougest sibling duo ready to wreak havoc upon each others conscience at any given moment while simultaneously chartering into unfamiliar territory of unbidden vulnerability. nesta? wonderful, marvellous, the strongest of steel is forged by the hottest fires as the saying goes, a steamy combination of sharp wit and self-deprecating sarcasm as they unveil the wouded parts of themselves to each other that they felt they had to hide from the world.

[gwandas]

Lucnes discourse on the tl?

One hill I’ll die on is Lucnes was abandoned because how was Nesta supposed to atone for her crimes if her mate was someone who had no reason to stay in the Night Court?

Lucien would take one look at the way the IC treated her and been like well I have no loyalty to these assholes, come on Nesta we're going literally anywhere else.

[theladyofbloodshed]

Final chapter/epilogue - Thank you to everybody who has read this little fic of Lucien whisking Nesta away from the shackles of the Night Court <3

The week of absence that Nesta had requested dragged its heels and lasted an eternity. When the new day dawned, Jurian appeared like a spectre in the doorway, unkempt hair hanging about his chin.

‘Today’s the day, Vanserra.’

Lucien shrugged in response, not giving him the satisfaction of yes, it was that day and yes, every single minute had been agony wondering over her wellbeing.

‘I need to head to the Dawn Court to speak with Thesan,’ he said, attempting to breeze by, but Jurian’s arm blocked off the doorway.

‘Don’t fuck about. You’ve given her a week like she asked.’

He heaved out a sigh then removed Jurian’s arm from his way. ‘I am not at Nesta’s every beck and call. Yes, it has been a week. It does not mean that I need to run like a lap dog to her side.’

The words settled around them then Jurian let out a calloused laugh, fingers tapping on the door frame.

‘But you absolutely want to.’

‘Yes, I do. But I won’t.’

Before the wretched mortal could get another word in, Lucien cantered down the stairs. He hurried to put his boots on, but – as always – Jurian was there, again. An ever-looming presence who haunted his steps in their manor.

‘You have the swiftness of the fae.’

‘And no doubt the same annoyingness.’ Jurian smirked. ‘Go to her.’

‘Later,’ he waved away.

‘Oh.’

‘Oh?’

Jurian gave a theatrical nod. ‘Playing hard to get.’

He was not. Or maybe he was a little. Maybe it was fear that he’d go to Nesta and she’d regret every choice and demand to be back with Cassian. Or she’d look at him with disgust after an absence because she’d come to her senses.

‘I have to go to the Dawn Court,’ he said curtly.

‘If I could winnow, I’d be there,’ said Jurian. ‘I’ll steal her from you.’

‘She’s not mine,’ Lucien reminded him.

He stepped out of the front door, ready to winnow away when Jurian called, ‘Isn’t she?’

The day sped away quicker than Lucien would have liked, leaving little time to prepare himself. Strictly speaking, he wasn’t a nervous person. One could not be nervous around Beron Vanserra because he’d sniff out the weakness to exploit. Nerves of steel were forged in the fires of the Autumn Court as a means of survival.

And still, Lucien found reasons to delay his departure from the Dawn Court. A new shop had him enthralled; a stranger striking up conversation had him hooking his claws in to prolong it. Eventually, it came to travelling to Summer or returning to the mortal lands where Jurian would be waiting. If the male wasn’t stood on the door step, expectantly, then Lucien would drop down dead in shock. No, he could find his courage to face Nesta.

The strong smell of the sea washed over him as his boots sank into the sand. The heat had him peeling off his jacket and slinging it over his shoulder on crooked fingers. Nesta’s home loomed before him, making his palms sweat. He couldn’t fathom why. They had parted on amicable terms. Her request for privacy had been respected. But what if she hadn’t meant a literal week, she’d meant longer? She was fae now. What was a week compared to eternity? Would she push away his attempts at contact, wanting a fresh life without the baggage of her past?

His knuckles were light upon the door. A ghost of a knock so that he could walk away if she did not answer him. He listened for footsteps – for the scurry of feet to abruptly stop when she recognised his outline through the thick, frosted glass beside the door.  

Nesta was not home.

Perhaps she’d left the day he’d brought her to the Summer Court. Maybe she had forgotten that he was to come again after a week had passed, her life in Summer already more interesting than the one an exiled prince of Autumn could offer her.

Lucien put his hands in his pockets and turned to leave.

‘Lucien.’

Her voice carried on the air, startled and commanding all at once.

Nesta stood on the peak of a sand dune, grains of sand running like a river beneath her bare feet. She wore a dress that was completely unlike her favoured ones from the Night Court. Instead of steely grey or frosty blue, it was a pastel yellow that matched her fair skin. It was long but thin for the hot weather, the sleeves rolled up past her elbows and the skirts ready to billow in the breeze. There was a bracelet around her wrist. Threads of blue, crimson and silver braided together. The coronet was there, of course, but it seemed loose like she’d had a busy day and it was unravelling itself ready for the night.

He met her on the sand, his clothes not suited for it. They stopped before each other, suddenly strangers.

‘How are you?’ he said.

Just as she said, ‘It’s nice to see you.’

A small smile curved her lips. Lucien had never seen her this way – like an enormous weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She stood straighter, easier, rather than the steel-spine she built to cope.

‘Would you like to come in?’

Lucien peeled his tongue from the roof of his mouth. ‘If it isn’t too much hassle.’

‘I thought you’d come this morning. I was waiting for you,’ she said, blushing slightly. ‘I have employment now. Sort of. So I went there. I left a note on the door, if you arrived. I only popped out now to look for shells while the tide is out.’ Nesta held open the door, ushering him in. Her cheeks had turned a beautiful shade of scarlet. ‘I’m talking too much.’

It was not too much. It was nice to hear her voice. Hear her speak freely and not guard her words or pick them apart into something the Night Court would find more palatable.

‘You look well,’ he said, gesturing to the slight tan on her face. It had brought out the freckles upon her nose. Ones he’d never known she possessed. ‘It makes you look like Feyre.’

‘Without the tattoos. Or the horrid husband.’

Nesta poured glasses of orange juice for them both then took a seat at the small table opposite him. It was a humble home, but a good beginning. Evidence of Nesta was littered about the place: shells lined up on the windowsills; a book on the arm chair and another three in a stack on the floor; a bowl was built up with oranges and towered precariously in the middle.

‘Is there an abundance of oranges in the Summer Court?’

‘We never could afford fruit when we were poor. There are trees near here for anybody to pick the fruits from. I cannot stop making orange juice, Lucien,’ she said in that severe way of hers, like it was a crime. ‘They all grow back within a day. I’ll strip an entire branch of pistachio nuts and they’re back by the morning. One night, I sat here and said it’s just like magic.’

Lucien laughed at that.

‘I didn’t know magic could do things like grow crops. It seems so simple but I’d only ever seen it for destruction, as something to be feared.’

He gave a nod. ‘It works best here - and to a degree in Spring and Autumn. The solar courts can’t harness the magic in the same way; their powers are suited to other avenues. Winter, well, it’s just ice and snow. They have to import most of their fresh goods from Summer or us.’ He blinked. ‘Autumn, I mean.’

‘How are you?’

The words hung between them. What could Lucien say? His life had existed as normal. The new normal that he had created since leaving Spring. But a part of it felt empty like there was still room in the jar for something else.

‘Fine,’ he said, with a nod to emphasise that fact. ‘All fine. Jurian misses you.’

The corners of her mouth twitched. ‘The sentiment is shared.’

Nesta pulled a tray of cake from the oven. It had been sliced into little rectangles and drizzled with icing. A few pieces had already been eaten.

‘I’m not much of a baker,’ she explained. ‘But I was expecting company, so I tried.’

Lucien shook himself. ‘Sorry. I can go.’

Her fingers slid around his wrist, tethering them together. ‘You. I mean you.’

‘Oh.’ Lucien leaned back in his chair, Nesta’s hand still touching his. ‘Thank you.’

‘You won’t say that when you try it,’ she replied, in that dry way of hers. ‘But I thought it was fitting. You helped to open my eyes through the power of sugar.’

They sipped at their orange juice and nibbled at cake. It wasn’t bad like she’d made out. Airy and light, basic but delicious. A zing of lemons punched through the icing and before Lucien could even ask, she said, ‘I cannot stop picking lemons either. I'm hoarding them all like a dragon. I do not think lemons make for good jam though.'

‘You like it here?’

‘It’s nice to have my own space. Cresseida has been once to see how I’ve settled. And I have employment.’

‘Sort of,’ he echoed.

Nesta dipped her chin, hiding a smile. ‘Sort of. There’s a male in the house on the hill,’ she said, pointing in a vague direction over his shoulder. ‘He’s a cartographer. I cannot draw, but I scribe for him. I read his letters and write them in return to clients. I write on the maps – the directions, landmarks. That sort of thing.’

‘That sounds like employment.’

She shrugged. ‘He gives me coin, but I don’t do it for that. He’s interesting company.’

A feeling of betrayal roiled through Lucien’s gut as he imagined Nesta becoming cosy friends with an interesting male from Summer.

‘He’s almost a thousand years old,’ she said, eyes widening. ‘And he’s lesser fae – his mother was a water nymph. You must meet him; he has the most wonderful stories.’

Some of his panic loosened. The male was triple his age. He imagined paper-thin skin and webbed fingers, weakening eyes that were grateful for a kind female assisting him with his work.

They took a walk along the beach as the sun started to set. The warmth was glorious enough that Lucien was tempted to curl upon the sand and nap like a cat beneath the golden light. Nesta went barefoot, discarding her shoes in her home before they went. There was something about that gesture that had him breathing with relief. She was at home here. Comfortable. Relaxed. He did the same and rolled up his trousers to his knees to walk through the shallows.

‘I am trying not to feel angry,’ Nesta said as she held a shell up to examine. ‘At how much they didn’t teach me. About magic. Faeries. Lesser ones. A little creature popped out of the waves one day and asked for my shell. It had huge ears and eyes like saucers, its fingers long and gnarled. I could only stare at it in shock – then it called me rude and dived back into the water.’

Lucien laughed at her story. ‘A vodnik. You’re lucky it wasn’t a hob because they hold a grudge for life if they’re offended.’

Nesta stared incredulously. ‘I don’t even know what a hob is. My history of the fae comes from mortal stories and whatever the Night Court told me. I am alone here with only my thoughts for company, Lucien. How can it be that Rhysand cannot stop the Illyrians from maiming their females? He could enforce the ban – clip their wings in return – and lose his army. More and more, I’m picking apart everything they told me and seeing the holes they tried to hide.’

He nodded, letting her talk.

‘There have to be more like Morrigan. More in the Hewn City who want release, who dream of a better life.’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t understand it. Maybe one day my sisters will see it too.’

The Night Court had cultivated its reputation for millennia, not solely in the five decades beneath the mountain where Rhysand stood at Amarantha’s side.

‘I feel for Gwyn and Emerie. I miss them too. But I can’t go back there. I won’t. The bond needs to be severed. I've never been more sure of anything.’

With more daring than he felt, Lucien settled his arm around Nesta’s shoulder in understanding and comfort. As if she had been hoping for it, she eased out a sigh and stopped walking. Her body leaned in close, her warmth matching his.

‘Thank you, Lucien, for saving me.’

‘You saved yourself.’

Nesta tittered. ‘You reached for my hand.’

He turned his face slightly to look at her. The sun was splintering in shards of gold across her face. She was so beautiful. They were different people on the surface; he liked to be amongst many, loved to meet new people whereas Nesta was more reserved, happy to retreat to her own sanctuary. Yet, Lucien could not help but feel like they balanced each other. Perhaps balance meant more than equality. Hadn’t she sought out her own company here in the way that suited her?

He ran his knuckles along her cheek. The Nesta Archeron that he’d met away from Velaris had been so very different from the one that was whispered about in the House of Wind. She wasn’t rude or selfish. Nesta was capable of showing teeth, but only when provoked. Didn’t everyone have a right to defend themselves?

‘I missed you.’

It came from her as a whisper, an admittance of weakness even. Nesta tilted forwards so her forehead met his lips as if begging him to kiss her there. He did. He’d kiss her wherever she wanted in every moment.

He held onto her while the waves lapped across their feet.

‘Can I see you again next week?’

Nesta’s hand slipped against his hip then curved around his back. ‘A week is too long.’

‘Tomorrow?’

‘Tomorrow,’ she vowed, tipping her face up to him.

Lucien met her there, fingers tilting her face to deepen the kiss. ‘We’ll pick oranges together,’ he said between kisses. ‘And lemons.’ Another kiss. ‘Pistachios. Whatever you want.’

‘And when my teeth fall out?’

Lucien kissed her again, unable to stop himself. ‘I’ll still love you.’

‘You will love me?’

‘I love you,’ he confirmed, kissing the tip of her nose. ‘I’ll never love you less – only more. Only more.’

His arm slid to the back of her knees to lift her into his arms. Their steps were made slow by the soft sand slipping through his toes and punctuated by kisses. Nesta curled against his body, a smile pressing into her lips.   

‘I’ll take you to the Continent,’ he whispered between kisses. ‘To Rask. To wherever you want to go.’

Nesta kissed the scar on his face. ‘As long as it’s with you.’

[busterswritehand]

You're Timeless To Me

-

Roughly 180 years after the events of ACOSF, Lucien looks up to find that he is surrounded by strangers. Meanwhile, Nesta realizes she has stayed still while the world around her keeps moving. Misery loves company, but these two can hardly make small talk.

-

Interlude

-

The ringing of the telephone echoed throughout the house. Its shrillness was nothing less than an annoyance. Elain cursed the day her sisters talked her into getting one. She covered her head with a pillow, trying to drown out the telephone's incessant sound.

Tamlin nudged her legs towards the edge of the bed silently. She groaned in objection. If the telephone didn't wake Elain, her mate's cold feet did. At least they were both up.

"It's not my family that's calling," Tamlin mumbled dryly.

Elain hit him with her pillow as she sat up. She always found those jokes tasteless, but she could tell that her mate was amused by the rise and fall of his shoulders.

She slipped out of bed and drug herself down the hall to the sitting room. To her chagrin, the telephone was still ringing.

Plopping down, Elain answered the phone.

"He was there tonight," Nesta's words shot out of the phone before Elain had the chance to say anything.

"Who?" Still groggy from sleep, Elain haphazardly looked at the clock across the room. It was too late to process whatever rant Nesta was about to go on.

"You know who."

"Maybe if I was fully awake. But I'm not so tell me."

"Lucien."

Elaine blinked. That was not the name she was expecting.

"Feyre invited him," Nesta continued.

"Oh."

"Is that all? 'Oh?'"

"Should there be more?" In truth, it did surprise Elain enough to bring her to her senses. As far as she knew, the two hadn't been close in ages. But then again, neither were Feyre and herself.

Over the phone, Nesta paused for a moment. Elain could almost hear her thinking. "I don't know. Maybe."

"Why?"

"Why not? You're our sister, yet you aren't here because of . . . him." Elain flinched at the word. She knew Nesta was referring to Tamlin. It was her mating bond with him that separated the sisters in more ways than one. "But she can invite Lucien who lied to us about your bond. Something he had no right to do."

"And I let him lie."

"You didn't know better."

"I did."

Another pause. It was an unspoken truth that Nesta had always refused to acknowledge. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation or maybe it was time that finally led Elain to call it out.

"If I didn't know better," Elain broke the silence, "I'd say that you took it more personally than me or Feyre."

"Yeah right," Nesta scoffed.

Elain chuckled. She nestled herself into the chair in a more comfortable position, tucking her legs into her chest.

"It's long over now. Give him another chance."

Silence.

"Nesta."

"Fine."

"Thank you." Elain smiled in satisfaction. "Did you talk Cassian's ear off before calling me?"

"Weren't you tired before," Nesta retorted.

"You woke me up. Now you're stuck with me."

"I could hang up right now."

"You won't."

Elain could hear Nesta's begrudgingly amused chuckle no matter how hard she tried to hide it. She twirled the phone line with her finger waiting for a response to her question.

"Well, how is Cassian?"

The quiet that followed alarmed Elain, but not as much as Nesta's response."

"We . . . we haven't talked in over a week."

Elain sat up, "He wasn't at the party tonight?"

"Rhysand said he's coming in tomorrow with Nyx." Nesta's words tugged at Elain's heart. She couldn't bear the thought of being separated from her mate like Nesta so often was. Elain didn't understand how she dealt with it.

"Is there something you want to tell me," Elain pressed gently.

"No. This works for us." Nesta said, nearly cutting Elain off. "You wouldn't get it."

"Alright." She knew, or rather hoped, that Nesta would tell her in her own time.

"How are the kids," Nesta asked.

Elain knew Nesta was prolonging the conversation, but she would stay on the phone for however long her sister needed. They talked about everything and nothing. How quickly her children were growing, the plans for Starfall, if Elain had begun work for Calanmai, and if Nesta would come. Eventually, Elain began to dose off as they breached the topic of the new romance book Nesta had been reading. She was ranting over contrived cliches and how unrealistic it was to constantly fight for love. Honestly, Elain could barely keep up.

She didn't remember how the call ended. All Elain could recall was heavy footsteps and her mate's gentle embrace as he picked her up and carried her to bed.

[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.”

[shadowqueenjude]

Initially Lucien was meant to be with Nesta but SJM changed it because Lucien and Nesta wouldn't destroy each other, but rather Lucien would embrace all parts of her, would be thrilled by her; he wouldn't punish her and shove her into a box like Cassian. And SJM hates Nesta, there's no other explanation for every character's treatment of her, ESPECIALLY post ACOWAR.

That, and SJM probably thinks Lucien deserves "better" than Nesta; regardless of what many people may think, SJM DOES love Lucien. I say this bc he is inspired by one of her favorite fictional characters ever.

[yaralulu]

Sjm didn’t say lucien was to soft for nesta, she said they wouldn’t work because they would destroy each other and not in a good way😭 I still wish nesta would have ended up in the autumn court

I know that’s what she said but to me she’s basically implying lucien wouldn’t have been able to handle nesta and she would’ve destroyed him (insanity) or that he somehow would’ve been terrible to her bc he can’t handle/deal with her (INSANITY). Both options make less sense than the other but idk maybe sjm saw thing differently (debatable).

[ae-neon]

Lucien and Nesta living their best pastoral lives out in a meadow somewhere, taking long walks under dappled shade and wearing plain cotton clothes. They have three dogs. Two cats back at their cottage. A few half domesticated monsters in the forest behind their home. Drawn out conversations that last well into the afternoon, books borrowed from the Day libraries, chess matches and some nights where they don't really say a word.

I will never let go of LucNes as two people who just don't seem to fit in anywhere finding a place for themselves and just living peacefully

[gimme-mor]

Lucien: Use your words

Nesta: I did

Lucien: 😮‍💨

[dollarstore-kins]

NessCas aesthetic!!

-Mod ET

[beansidhebumbling]

A LucNes drabble please

For my lovely friend Caoimhe. I may have a full outline for the messiest Lucien x Nesta x Lord of Autumn piece 💀💀

Absolutely hindered in length by my press ons and the fact I have my charger but no laptop in a nice switcheroo from my plight earlier in the week

The first time she is introduced to Lucien Vanserra she barely pays him any heed. He is handsome to be sure, tall and lithe with warm eyes and long russet hair that flows freely down his back in the most unfashionable way.

Maybe if he weren't the seventh son of a Baron she'd have let her mind wander as it wished, to how his hair might light with the colours of Autumn in the golden sun of late July.

But as it is, with sweat gathering on her brow in the sticky heat of a crowded ballroom, she cannot afford to be distracted by a thing as frivolous as the freckles that scatter across his high cheekbones, not when she is at this damned ballroom in a corset too small and a braid too tight for the sole purpose of finding a wealthy husband.

So when he bows deeply and those eyes flash up at her with something sharp that makes her heart pound, that reminds her of the whispers behind fans of how the young Vanserra likes to kneel and seek salvation outside the pew, when his name leaves his mouth wrapped in caramel, sounding sweeter than she's ever known it to...

..Nesta Archeron does nothing.

She smiles that bland smile taught to ladies and scullery maids alike, one that speaks of a polite disinterest and watches his jaw clench and mouth tighten as she requests an introduction to his father, the Baron Vanserra.

[theladyofbloodshed]

Be Consumed By The Flame - Chapter 7 (You see, only a few weeks since the last update rather than 6 months... and it's spicy in here!)

Every star seemed to pause, their hesitation marked in an eternity of endless wonder. Fate was not indestructible. The power of a mating bond was not a force that flattened everything in its path. It could be overcome.

Lucien’s hand curled against Nesta’s face as their lips collided. That was the first brilliant spark that sizzled against the kindling, bringing an inferno into being. It was Nesta who moved first, hands snagging against his clothing in their hurried need to remove them. For every kiss, another item was shed, falling to the floor with a soft thump.

When it was only bare skin between them, Lucien let Nesta cross the threshold and hold her body to his. Let her forge the reins. The soft mounds of her breasts pressed against his chest. He stroked his knuckles down the curve of her spine, giving Nesta the time to pull away or say no.

‘Kiss me again,’ she whispered.

He could have kissed her until the world stopped turning. It felt right to choose this – for both of them. Nesta’s arm laced around his neck, her fingers twining into his hair to keep him close as they kissed. His tongue swept against hers, tasting her sweetness.

Nesta’s lips, soft and full from kissing him, broke away. Those eyes, so like silver flames, scanned his scar again then flitted down to his bare chest. It was scrawnier than she was used to no doubt. Her fingers traced over the muscles of his shoulder, down his arm then across his chest.

‘Is your skin always so warm?’

‘Fire is in my blood,’ he replied.

Thin fingers pressed against his heart, feeling his pulse. Lucien worked to settle his breathing but Nesta could already feel the effect she’d had on him through his rapid heartbeat. Lucien swallowed, waiting for Nesta to pull away, to call it a mistake and put an end to it.

‘Be with me tonight, Lucien.’

Their fingers wove together, hands clasping.

‘Only if you are sure. If it’s what you want, Nesta,’ he said. ‘You don’t owe me. You don’t need to do this to return a favour.’

Her finger pressed against his lips. ‘I can think of a better use for your lips than talking.’

Sparks cascaded between them, daring the other to catch alight.

Lucien kissed his way down her body as she stood in the room. He went to his knees upon the wooden floor and touched his forehead to her stomach, arms wrapping around her. Nesta cradled his head to her body then leant down to kiss the top of his head.

With a little force, he tipped Nesta back against the bed and delighted in the soft, unexpected laugh it brought from her.

He found himself a home between her thighs as he trailed his lips against the soft skin. One leg was hooked over his shoulder as his tongue lapped between the folds of her sex. She was a nectar that he was unlikely ever to forget. Each curl and pulse of his tongue summoned a delicate moan or a raise of her chest from the bed.

As Nesta approached a climax, Lucien linked his fingers with hers again. The desire to hold her hand, to have that closeness, was a driving need. Nesta took their locked hands and pressed it to her breast. With his free hand, he stroked against the thigh that rested upon his shoulder, tongue still pressing into her, nose burrowing deep.

There was no finer meal that he could conceive of than Nesta Archeron coming on his tongue.

A flush was upon her cheeks when Lucien kissed his way back up to her mouth.

It was his mistake to think that Nesta might need a moment to compose herself. The instant that his weight leaned above hers on the bed, she was tugging him down to taste the ghost of herself on his tongue.

‘Inside me,’ she begged, hand cupping his cheek to hold him close.

They shifted up the bed then, at the first thrust, Lucien pushed inside of her slick entrance. The sound of Nesta’s enjoyment was a song unlike any other.

Neither could let the other go. They clung to each other’s bodies, hands roaming every contour like tracing mountains on a map. Moans caught on their lips between soft kisses. Foreheads touched.  

Lucien would not last much longer. Not from the sensation of her body pulsing beneath his. Not the desperate touches that Nesta lavished upon him, as if he was the only male that existed, the only male she desired.

With a short gasp, he came inside of her in a moment that was stolen from fate. Two souls who had defied their bonds and found each other.

Although they had fallen asleep together with Nesta cradled to his chest, bodies entwined, it came as no surprise to Lucien that when he woke, Nesta had gone. The bed was cold despite the darkness still clinging to the morning. Pushing away his feelings of inadequacy, he dressed and went downstairs in search of her.

Nesta sat on a stool, a mug clutched to her cheek for warmth as she watched the sun climbing above the trees from the kitchen window.

At his approach, she glanced over her shoulder at him then gave a single laugh. ‘I don’t know who else I expected it to be. Jurian has already departed and Vassa’s curse holds her. It could only be you.’

Lucien leant against the stove, watching her for any signs of distress or regret. ‘Wishful thinking that I’m somebody else.’

Her eyes shuttered closed.

He needed to break this strange stalemate growing between them before it became a solid wall that he couldn’t break through.

Nesta looked at him again. The slight creases beneath her eyes were the only indicator that her sleep had not been as restful as his. She turned back to the garden, scanning the width of it as the first tendrils of sunlight reached over the thick hedge. 

‘I should be filled with regret, with guilt. I have a mate. You are my sister’s mate.’ The briefest shrug lifted her shoulders. ‘I don’t care. I don’t care at all.’

The silence lapped against them like waves upon the shore.

Lucien cleared his throat. ‘What do you need from me? Should I convince you to feel guilty? Reassure you that there is no need to feel regretful?’

Her hands splayed out as she gave another shrug. ‘I don’t know.’

Taking matters into his own hands, Lucien moved to stand beside her. His arms snaked around her body so her shoulders pressed into his chest.

‘Then let me tell you this: I regret nothing. I enjoyed last night. I’ve enjoyed every moment that we’ve spent together as friends or as lovers.’

He rested his chin on top of Nesta’s head, watching the sunrise with her. Even if last night was a one-time occurrence, Lucien preferred not to regret. He had learnt that it caused more damage than it was worth.

‘I’m told that a mating bond is sacred. It’s special. That I’m lucky because others will spend their whole lives searching for it.’ As Nesta spoke, a hesitant hand settled on top of his. ‘How am I meant to feel? I feel nothing. I feel no bond hanging between us. There is no tie to Cassian except the fact I’m trapped in that damn house.’

It was an altogether different regret that haunted Nesta. He had to admit that it was a relief that he wasn’t the source of her unhappiness.

‘I understand. I was sure a bond would snap with Jesminda. How could it not? I’d never loved another like that. I don’t know if I will again.’ His fingers curled against Nesta’s. ‘I can feel the bond, but it’s so stagnant, it’s decaying. It is a dead weight tying me to your sister.’

***

A melancholia had settled upon both of them as the morning wore on. Rather than face a grilling from Jurian upon his return, they opted to depart the home although there were few places they could go to. Nesta was still a fugitive of the Night Court; other courts’ fear of Cassian and Rhysand meant a sighting of her would reach them quickly. It would be worse if they could scent Lucien on her. Instead, they took a slow walk through the woods. It was so utterly unlike her, but Nesta needed to feel the fresh air on her skin rather than spend another moment stewing in her thoughts. The luxury of being able to leave a home freely without relying on somebody flying her or winnowing wasn’t lost on her either.

Lucien came alive in the forest – and it too. His presence had the trees stretching taller. The dappled sunlight sought him out, catching on his golden eye and making his red hair shine. His skin darkened with the slightest kiss of sunlight, making it warmer. He paused to point out mushrooms and Nesta had to wonder how he’d even spotted them hidden amongst the undergrowth.

‘Does that eye enhance your foraging abilities?’

‘The only demand I made of Nuan when she produced it.’ Lucien took his knife and sliced at the base. ‘Pity we haven’t got a basket to collect them.’

‘I know where one is,’ she offered, before she truly considered her words. ‘Come. Let me show you where the Archerons lives changed.’

It took some time to locate the cottage that had been their home for many years, but once Lucien had found the stream running through the forest, Nesta had been able to find the way. She did not mind to show him it. A male who had suffered as much as Lucien seemed unlikely to cast judgement on her past. After all, it was nothing she could control.

The cottage was almost how she remembered it. Since turning fae, the mortal world was duller like the colours were muted. The white walls were practically grey to her eyes now. The hole in the roof had expanded so a portion of it caved in. Warm summer months meant that the garden that Elain tended to had grown wild in her absence. The grass was as high as their waist and patches of nettles had sprung up so Lucien moved towards the home first, stamping them down as he went so that she wasn’t stung. Nature was claiming the cottage for its own and more weeds wended up the front of the house, clinging to the cracks of the paint and the rotting windowsills.

‘This is the door your beastly friend kicked down,’ she said, gesturing from top to bottom.

‘If I push this, I think the whole house will fall down.’

Gingerly, they shimmied open the front door. It appeared as though the place had been ransacked in the absence of occupants but there was likely nothing for them to take. The thin, stained mattress of the cot that her father used to sleep on had been overturned, likely seeking an imaginary fortune stowed beneath the bed. Debris from the caved-in roof had landed on the wobbly table, flattening that too.

Lucien kept his lips together as he examined the cottage. There was little to be examined. A handful of wooden carvings that had been her father’s only reason to exist were dashed on the floor. They were crude things that rarely fetched a coin besides. It would have been better to burn them.

They went through to the bedroom. The mattress had gone which meant somebody in the village had been desperate enough to take it. Each drawer of the dresser had been pulled out, the contents empty which came as no surprise to Nesta. They’d had six dresses between them so it had been easy to pack when the Spring High Lord had found a manor for them. Lucien pushed each of the drawers back into their place.

‘Feyre’s doing?’

He gestured to the faded paintings. Nesta touched a finger to each one, first the stars, then the flowers, then the fire. One sister meant for dreaming, another to grow, and her to destroy. It was all she was good for. Or, it had been.

‘Welcome to my home,’ she said, gesturing to the hovel. ‘Now you know why I am the reason that I am.’

‘No,’ said Lucien. ‘You’re not that person anymore.’

His thumb brushed against her cheek.

‘You stopped fighting, Nesta. You gave up.’

It hurt hearing it from his lips because she had thought it about herself for months. By making herself more docile, more palatable to those around her, Nesta had given up parts of herself.

‘The Nesta who lived here would never have settled for a male who declared he was shackled to me,’ she said, touching the painted flame again. ‘One who’d laugh when she was hurt, who’d make her feel like she was a problem.’

Nesta hadn’t given Cassian an inch in their first meetings. When her guard was lowered, she gave – and he took and took and took. He took away all the parts of her that he didn’t like.

Lucien’s arm settled around her shoulders.

‘The Nesta who lived here had claws and teeth,’ she said.

Claws that were removed. Teeth that were filed down to nothing. She was snatched from her home and locked away until she had become a more pleasant version that everybody preferred – except herself. She was still a prisoner there.

‘I was so tired, Lucien. Tired of everybody being against me, forcing me to join them. I gave up. I gave up on myself and let them win.’ Voice trembling, Nesta continued, ‘He ground me down until I gave in.’

Instead of tears, Nesta could only feel anger. It burnt hot as it swelled in her veins. That little spark of something which had remained seemed to come alive in response.

Lucien took a step back, eyes flaring wide as he stared at her. ‘Your eyes.’

She already knew what he’d see. She’d seen it before, many times before, in her cramped, rotting apartment that had been torn down. Once, Nesta could kindle those silver flames to her eyes at the slight shift of her anger. She’d thought she’d lost them. Lost all of her magic as part of the trade to save Feyre’s life. But a spark remained. And a spark could always burn to something greater.

‘Are you afraid of me, Lucien?’

‘No. I want to see you burn again.’

He held out a hand to her, but before she could reach for it, vivid red flames wrapped around his palm like a rope. ‘Like calls to like.’

Nesta willed that fire to reach the surface. Her magic had never been trained. A better use of her time had been to train with a blade rather than to train the wild beast that ran rampant within her veins. She knew now it was because they didn’t want her to have control. That meant she could have bargained, could have found a way out. Only Rhysand might have been able to quell her. Only he might have been able to train her. She strained to lift the flame, let it burn through her blood.

A single silver flame curled in her palm then sputtered out as quickly as it came.

‘You will burn again,’ he vowed, clasping her hand. ‘I’ll make sure of it.’

They returned to the forest with a battered wicker basket that Nesta used to use for the rare days that she went to the market when they had two coins to rub together. It brought Lucien joy at least. Noises of delight slipped from him as he continued hunting for mushrooms. He’d squat down and cut the base, declaring it was a good one each time, before placing it into the basket she carried.

It was strange for Nesta to be in another’s company this way. There was no expectation placed upon her, no need for her to do something. Her presence was enough. No flirtatious comments were exchanged, no sexually-charged confrontations. They simply existed together in the forest. Lucien spoke of the trees and plants, naming them for her, offering their uses. He imitated bird calls, pausing with a slight smile on his handsome face as birds sang back.

When they returned through the garden, Jurian was shirtless and sweaty, sparring with a hay-filled sack rigged up from a tree.

‘What a fearsome battle on your hands.’

At Lucien’s words, Jurian stabbed his wooden sword into the soft ground. ‘Practising for fae pricks like you. Just need to show them a mirror and they’re transfixed by their reflection.’

The day whittled away quicker than Nesta would have liked. Each moment she spent in their rough, but enjoyable company, she could feel the burden on her shoulders growing heavier. It was not a need to return to Velaris and repent, but a guilt that her presence in this home could spell trouble for the occupants, especially Lucien. She still needed time to figure things out, to decide her next steps. If she returned to Velaris now, she’d give in again to Cassian. He’d rain down hell on Lucien then lock her up again until she could behave.

When Vassa emerged, Nesta lingered a short while longer then retreated to the bedroom, lost in her own thoughts. There was no determination to keep her there from Lucien. He seemed to understand that Nesta needed time alone just as others craved company. She wasn’t the social butterfly that Elain had once been or the lone wolf that Feyre had been. Nesta simply liked to be alone from time to time, but Cassian had made her feel that there was something wrong with that.

She was five chapters deep in Lucien’s book when the male knocked on the door carrying in a tea for her and something sweet that Jurian had made. Nesta didn’t have a name for it because it looked like something that had been sat on, but he assured her it tasted better than it looked.

‘That’s not difficult.’

Lucien let out a laugh as he set down the cup for her. ‘Five centuries in a ring doesn’t allow much time for baking.’ He stroked against her hair. ‘Enjoy your book.’

That interaction left her reeling.

Lucien hadn’t pleaded with her to join them, hadn’t asked what was wrong with his friends, hadn’t forced her to build a wobbly bridge to form a friendship. Simply dropped her a snack and left her in peace.

How could she return to Velaris?

This damn beautiful male was showing her all of the cracks in her terrible relationship without meaning to. He was shining a light to all the faults that Nesta had tried to ignore for months.

When Nesta finished the tea, she snapped the book shut and followed the sound of Lucien’s easy laughter. She noted the surprise on their faces as she joined them, but no comments followed. The seat beside Lucien was empty so she settled there.

‘How did you find our master baker’s treat?’

‘Delightful. If I didn’t have eyes, I’d have liked it even more.’

It was easy to laugh at Juran’s expense although the male never seemed to mind. He gave as good as he got – although perhaps a warning had been given to avoid Nesta as she was off limits to his teasing. For once, Nesta was glad to be a part of a group. The cards had come out and they’d played games while they spoke of events in the mortal lands that both Jurian and Vassa were privy to.

The mortal pair feigned their excuses again, with Jurian heading to bed first, claiming he had to be up early. Perhaps it wasn’t a lie since Nesta had seen him depart early that morning. Then Vassa claimed to have letters to write to generals on the Continent that he’d post for her so had to write them right at that very moment.

‘Young love,’ lamented Lucien.

‘Can I ask you, Lucien, about Jesminda?’

A brief shadow of pain crossed his face then that easy smile returned. ‘Ask away.’

‘You can tell me no.’

‘It’s alright,’ he said.

‘You said earlier that you thought the bond would snap. Why?’

His thumb traced the rim of his glass. It held the last dribbles of their wine although it was from a mortal vineyard so lacked any potency for them.

‘I was young and in love. She was everything I wanted – or thought I wanted then. Her capricious nature, her teasing… for a pampered prince of Autumn, it was at odds with any female I’d met.’ Lucien smiled tightly. ‘I used to pray to the Mother far more than I do now. I was convinced a mate should be your opposite for balance. Others believe an equal.’

‘What do you believe now?’

‘Both. You need an opposite and an equal. Opposite on the little things, equal on the things that matter.’

‘I’m sorry that she was taken from you,’ replied Nesta.

Lucien stood to shut the windows for the night. She helped him to tidy up the living room by picking up the cards that Vassa had scattered across the room in her sulking from losing.

‘It’s rarer to find love without fate pushing you there,’ he said, taking the cards from her. ‘How special it is to find somebody that you love, that you choose to love.’

Nesta could offer nothing to his words. She hadn’t known unconditional love. Not from her mother or her father. Certainly not from Cassian. It had taken him months after their mating bond had snapped for him to even utter those words – and when she had returned them, they’d felt empty.

When they went to his bedroom, they moved in near silence. Their footsteps were soft and light to not be heard.

She reached for him, ready to pull him in for a kiss, but Lucien just grazed his knuckles against her cheek.

‘Tonight, I just want to hold you, Nesta. That’s all I want. All I need.’