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velidewrites · 2 years

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Humanity

Summary: Queen Vassa is more than ready to finally break free from her curse. After too many fruitless attempts, she turns to her allies at the Night Court, who send none other than Elain Archeron, in hopes that her Seer abilities could help. As their first meeting goes horribly wrong, Vassa suspects her guest might do more harm than good.

Pairing: This is the first encounter between Vassa and Elain, but I've thrown in some Jassa & Elucien because I need them more than I need to breathe.

Word Count: 3.5k

Note: This one shot was inspired by this post from the wonderful @ladyelain so make sure to check it out asap. I also want to give a massive thank you to @separatist-apologist for reviewing and simping over Jurian with me - you're the best<3

Anyways, enjoy my first ACOTAR fic, "Humanity"!

TW: Jurian is dangerously sexy (what else is new)

A queen by night. A Firebird by day.

Sometimes, Vassa wished the day would never come.

For it was when the sun lit up the sky, awaking the feathered body she was cursed with, that she felt the darkness take over. And though the red and gold and white burned with a raging flame, it dimmed in comparison to the rage fuelling her soul.

After all, Vassa was a queen. She had not given up hope just yet.

Oh, how she would make them pay. Koschei. The human queens. Every last one of them.

She rolled back her shoulders, letting the anger pass through her body one last time before she set it away for the night. For a brief moment, she closed her eyes, hand travelling towards the back of her aching neck.

“Did a full day of flying get you sore, Your Majesty?” a familiar voice asked behind her.

Vassa took a deep breath and silently counted to five before deeming herself ready to face her latest source of frustration. There he was, leaning against the doorframe with a smug smile.

Jurian.

Vassa crossed her arms. “You try carrying a pair of wings for twelve hours. Then we can talk.”

The general’s smile broadened. “Well, at least you look damn good doing it,” he remarked, prompting an eye roll from the human queen. Though he annoyed her immensely, she knew his shameless flirts and silly quips were for her benefit, aimed to ease some of the dread she felt before every sunrise. Sometimes, they did. Vassa was eternally grateful for that.

For him.

“Is everything ready for our guests tonight?” she demanded.

Jurian’s posture straightened, arms at his side, a true general to his queen. “Why yes, Ma’am. I’ve ensured the preparations had been carried out as requested.”

Vassa lifted an eyebrow.

“Alright,” Jurian sighed. “She’s here,” he announced. “The Cursebreaker. She… she brought her sister, too.”

Vassa stiffened. “What would Nesta Archeron have to do with my curse?” Vassa had never been one to make snap judgements, but the eldest Archeron’s reputation preceded her down to the human lands. And frankly, the thought of Lady Death stepping into her house was less than comforting.

Jurian shook his head. “Not her.”

Vassa couldn’t help but scowl, and Jurian offered her a tight smile. “Lucien?” she asked.

“At the Spring Court.”

She nodded. “Maybe that’s for the best.”

So Lucien’s mate was here. Vassa knew he didn’t approve of her wariness towards Elain, but Lucien was too understanding, too patient. It was Vassa, however, that had to watch the longing that pained his features every time he’d returned from Velaris, the devastation that had gleamed in his eyes after the last Winter Solstice. To Lucien, getting to see her made it all worth it, though Vassa knew her friend well enough to see the resignation that was slowly eating him alive.

“You ready to do this?” Jurian asked, pulling her out of her thoughts.

Something in Vassa’s chest tightened. This might have been her last chance. “I don’t have another choice, do I?” She passed by him, though was stopped by his light grip on her arm.

“Vassa,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Soon, all of this will be over. They will help.”

She turned her head to meet his gaze, flaring with an intensity she knew was reserved for his Queen and his Queen only. “We’ve already gone through this, Jurian,” she said. “Do you remember?”

A muscle clenched in his jaw.

She took that as a yes. “The Cursebreaker promised to help. How long has it been, Jurian? Weeks? Months? A year?,” she scowled, feeling the anger she’d stashed away rise up her chest once again. “I wouldn’t know, because for me, every day is the same. Every day, I wake up trapped in that gods-forsaken body. Aching. Burning.”

He made no effort to calm her down. “So show her,” he urged. “Show her your flame, Vassa.”

She let her anger curve her mouth up in a smile. “Feyre Archeron may be High Lady, but I am Queen,” she warned. “No one dares walk over me.”

“And whoever does will die trying,” Jurian answered, the sword at his side gleaming with ominous promise.

She turned her attention to it, thinking of Jurian’s centuries of suffering, pretending. The Mad General, the Fae called him. But now, with his unyielding gaze, she thought how easy it was to mistake madness for devotion. Devotion that, just like Vassa, trapped him. Burned him.

So Vassa nodded. “Let’s do this.”

***

The Band of Exiles’ manor hosted many sitting rooms, though for this meeting Vassa had chosen one of the smaller ones, situated in the nook of the first floor. The queen had opted for privacy, away from the prying eyes of people inhabiting the area, who, to Jurian’s discontent, would often gather by the front gate in an attempt to learn what this foreign, human queen had been up to.

They found their guests immersed in quiet conversation by one of the room’s large, bay windows, backs turned to their hosts. The night sky draped the outside view, its stillness only disturbed by the silvery glow of stars flickering in the distance. Vassa sometimes wished she turned to a firebird by night, thinking about how liberating it would be if she could fly among them.

Their entrance quickly alerted the sisters they were no longer alone, which Vassa could only credit to their exceptional, Fae hearing. They turned to face her, and though it had been over a year, Vassa immediately recognised Feyre Archeron, her blue-grey eyes glimmering much like the stars in the view behind her.

“Hello, Cursebreaker,” Vassa greeted, offering a half-smile which Feyre returned.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Vassa,” she answered, clearly letting go of formalities. She gestured to her side. “My sister, Elain.”

Vassa’s gaze slid over to the elder Archeron.

So, this is her. Lucien’s mate.

She had always thought the Fae held an extraordinary kind of beauty, and Elain was no different. In many aspects, she resembled Feyre. Their golden-brown hair shone with the same, soft gleam, and their cheekbones sculpted their faces in a smooth, elegant manner. The main difference was the eyes, the rich brown so contrasting to Feyre’s lustrous blue, and the gaze they held. It betrayed wariness, as if the smile Elain offered in greeting had been a mask, her eyes the only outlet for the caution she held inside.

Had this meeting had a different purpose, Vassa may have sat her down and demanded to explain herself for every look Lucien had offered that she’d avoided; every Solstice gift he’d given her that she’d left unopened; every attempt at resolving their situation that she’d ran from, leaving his heart shattered and broken for him to piece back together before readying himself for another disappointment. Lucien was Elain’s mate, but he was also Vassa’s friend, and she was not sure how much more suffering on his part she could endure.

But that wasn’t why they came to see her today. They came to help, and no matter of Elain’s relationship with Lucien, Vassa was going to accept that help, because they were her only chance. Her last chance.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Queen Vassa,” Elain said, pulling her out of her thoughts.

She nodded in return. “Thank you for coming. Please, sit,” she gestured towards the green, velvet couches surrounding an old, stone fireplace. There were no flames sizzling inside it. It was a warm night.

They took their seats, though Jurian remained standing behind Vassa, as if shielding her from the window, from the prying eyes of whoever dared to look into their home. The only place she felt safe.

“Tea?” she asked, and before anyone could respond, she turned to one of the servants who was already holding a tray. Smiling warmly, Vassa nodded, encouraging him to approach. He poured the tea into simple, porcelain cups, and Vassa couldn’t help but glance at Elain, who appeared mesmerised by the steam gently floating above the liquid. “Thank you, Harod,” Vassa said, a gentle dismissal in her tone. He nodded, taking his leave, with the rest of the staff following.

Only when the door had shut behind him did Feyre begin. “Is…”

“Your sister’s mate is not here,” Jurian cut in, shooting a disgruntled look towards Elain, who shuddered at the mention of the word. Vassa’s royal upbringing screamed inside of her, commanding the queen to reprimand him, yet the other side—Lucien’s friend—grumbled in satisfaction from watching Elain desperately trying to avert the General’s gaze.

“Lucien,” Vassa said, looking pointedly at Jurian, who rolled his eyes and finally took a seat next to her, “ is at the Spring Court.” She subtly eyed Elain, whose face was now the picture of perfect indifference, her eyes once again focusing on the steaming tea.

Curious, she noted.

“I see,” Feyre said. She leaned towards the coffee table and picked up a cup. “Give him my regards,” she only added before taking a sip.

Jurian did not react and very quickly, uncomfortable silence filled the room. Vassa cleared her throat. “I’m afraid we don’t have much time before sunrise,” she said. “I will be called to Koschei’s lake in a matter of hours.” She could have sworn she heard Jurian’s teeth grinding against each other.

Feyre offered her a tight smile, something pained ensuing her features. “Of course. I’ll try to be brief, then.”

Vassa prayed to the old gods no one heard her swallow the lump that had formed in her throat. If they had nothing…it was over.

Feyre took a deep breath before she began. “I’ve asked Helion Spell-Cleaver for assistance. His libraries are known across Prythian for holding knowledge from times long before humans or Fae had arrived. Perhaps Lucien had mentioned him,” she suggested, a tinge of question dousing her voice. Jurian shook his head, and Feyre nodded, her eyes flashing with something Vassa couldn’t quite decipher.

Feyre continued. “Unfortunately, Koschei guards his secrets well. I’m afraid the High Lord’s libraries held no answer,” Feyre said apologetically. Jurian’s jaw clenched in answer.

Vassa, however, stammered back. “So… you have looked?” This whole time, she thought her fate was long forgotten by her allies in the Night Court.

The High Lady shot her a puzzled look. “I promised I would, didn’t I?”

Vassa lightly chewed on the inside of her cheek, her mind immediately reprimanding her for the nervous habit. “I’d assumed you had more pressing matters to attend do,” she explained. Feyre’s brow arched, blue-grey eyes gauging her warily.

Jurian nodded coolly. “Many congratulations on your firstborn, Cursebreaker,” he said, though his tone expressed no sentiment.

Vassa shot him a look. “Yes. On behalf of myself, my kingdom, and Jurian.” She turned her gaze back to Feyre and smiled. “Nyx, was it?”

Pride flashed in the Cursebreaker’s eyes. “Yes,” she smiled back. “Thank you.”

Vassa nodded, taking a sip of tea from her cup. It had already started cooling, signing the inevitable passing of time. Counting down the hours until she belonged to him again.

Or perhaps it was Jurian’s not-so-quiet indignation that had cooled the room right down.

He sighed, as if he could hear the thoughts circling Vassa’s head, though Feyre did not care to counter the General’s frustration. “I’m sorry this isn’t the news you had hoped for,” she admitted. “But I believe there is something we could do.” She offered Vassa a tight smile. “Another way we could try.”

“Anything,” Vassa breathed. Feyre’s smile faded, and Vassa finally recognised the emotion behind the woman’s—female’s—pained expression.

Pity.

Jurian sucked in a breath, as though he recognised the quiet fury that once again rose up from the pits of her stomach. She hated this, hated how desperate she’d become. How trapped she’d become. All because of him. Of Koschei.

One day, she would burn him to the ground.

Feyre cleared her throat, making Vassa snap out of the trance raging within her. “My abilities do not actually permit me to do this, which is why I’ve asked my sister for help.” She looked at Elain. “I thought having you two meet might spark any visions regarding your curse,” she said, her gaze carefully measuring her sister, as if to confirm she truly was okay with this. Elain, however, turned to Vassa, offering an encouraging smile.

For the first time since they’d entered the manor—perhaps even since Vassa had met him—Jurian’s brows shot up in surprise. “You’re a Seer?”

Elain’s back stiffened, though her smile remained. “That’s what I am told, yes.” Her eyes looked to Vassa again. “I’m afraid I cannot command my power at will, though. I can, however, promise you that I will do my best to help free you of your torment,” she vowed, something like warmth filling her expression.

It did not reach her eyes.

Vassa reached for her cup, dismissing the thought, though she wondered if Jurian had noticed the same thing. Cold porcelain settled into her fingers, a reminder of the little time she had left before sunrise. She shook off all her worries, her gaze diverting between the two Archeron sisters. “Alright. How does this work, then?”

Elain’s cheeks flushed with a soft, pink tint. Vassa could see why Lucien was so utterly swayed by the woman. Hers was a face of poised beauty that Vassa could only assume Elain was well aware of, judging by the grace she held herself with. Elain’s beauty was undeniable.

What concerned the Human Queen, however, was what lied beneath it.

“I’m not entirely sure,” Elain admitted. “Sometimes, a vision might come in my sleep, much like a dream,” she explained. “Or a nightmare,” she added quietly, prompting her younger sister to place a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. She shuddered at the touch, forcing Feyre away, as if her sister was afraid Elain too was made of porcelain. The Seer continued with a hard swallow. “Other times, a vision comes unexpectedly, like a clashing wave. It washes over my senses. I often find myself unable to even recall it.”

“The most common ones are triggered by someone’s presence,” Elain went on. “They always have to do with that specific person. It can be anything—a simple look into their eyes, hearing the sound of their voice, laugh, even their heart beating…” She cut off abruptly, her eyes trailing off somewhere above Vassa’s shoulder. She did not elaborate, consumed by her unexpected daze.

Jurian cleared his throat, and all emotion in Elain’s look was blinked away. “So, what?” He demanded. “You just… look into Vassa’s eyes? That’s it?”

Elain’ brows furrowed slightly. “I… I’m not sure. We’ve been in each other’s presence for a good amount of time now,” she said, turning to Vassa. “If a vision were to be triggered by sight or sound, it would have happened by now,” she explained. “I’m sorry. I’m not quite sure what to do.”

It was over. Vassa opened her mouth, ready to thank them for their time, to give up all hope, and finally succumb to the depths of Koschei’s lake, when—

“What about touch?” Feyre suggested.

Elain flinched. “I’ve never done that before. I wouldn’t expect it to—“

“I think it’s a great idea,” Jurian said, his eyes falling on Elain, who met his gaze carefully. “Don’t you think it’s worth trying? For the sake of her torment?” he challenged.

Brown eyes slid over to meet Vassa’s cerulean blue, and she felt her entire body go still, pure shock sprawling on the queen’s face as she found Elain’s usual warm, doe-like eyes were now clouded by dark, nauseating hate.

“Of course it is,” Feyre said gently, and just like that, Elain’s gaze held once again nothing but kind, graceful compassion as she turned to her sister. Vassa used the opportunity to shoot Jurian a look.

Please, please tell me you saw that, she begged, hoping he could hear her thoughts, but his eyes continued to scan Feyre in silent judgement.

“Why don’t you try and take her hands, Elain,” the High Lady nudged her sister. Vassa swallowed, moving towards the edge of the couch as Elain slowly reached for her, palms exposed to Vassa’s touch.

“If it doesn’t, work, I’m truly sorry,” the Seer warned, and took her hands in hers.

White, hot light flashed behind Vassa’s eyes, the force of it blinding her temporarily as her chest erupted with burning pain, ready to scorch, destroy, rampage…

There is no way.

Her sight returned in an instant as Elain frantically pulled away, shoving herself to the back of the couch, hands clamped at her chest. Feyre was at her side in an instant, while Jurian grabbed Vassa’s shoulder, the queen panting with pain and shock.

“Breathe,” he commanded, and she forced herself to inhale deeply, each breath putting out the fire still raging within her.

Impossible.

“What the hell happened,” Jurian snarled, glaring murderously at Elain, who whimpered, still holding her own hands.

“Elain,” Feyre urged.

Shaking, Elain released the grip of her fists, showing fresh, red burn marks on her palms.

Her sister gasped in shock.

“I’m okay,” Elain wheezed, standing up. “I just…need some cold water,” she said, and before Feyre could protest, she hurried out of the room.

“I’ll go check on her,” Feyre informed and got on her feet, making Vassa snap out of her shock.

“Let me,” she pleaded. “The manor is big. I’ll show her to the bathroom.”

The female hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Alright,” she agreed, dropping back on the couch. Vassa turned to the door, hoping to catch up to the elder Archeron quickly.

“The burns didn’t look too severe,” Feyre said behind her.

Vassa heard Jurian respond, “You better hope that’s true, Cursebreaker. Lucien will kill us if they are.”

Feyre only sighed.

***

“There you are.”

Vassa found Elain wandering around the second floor corridor, far from where the bathroom was located.

The Seer’s arms shuddered, and she turned on her feet, startled. Their eyes met. “I’m afraid I got lost. I was looking for a place to…” Her gaze dipped down to her hands. “Wash up.”

“I was hoping to talk to you,” Vassa said, taking a step closer.

Elain stammered back. “I…my burns are quite severe. If you don’t mind, I’d rather be shown to the bathroom first.”

So proper. So polite. So gracious.

Vassa took another step forward. “Why are you really here, Elain?” She asked.

Elain’s eyes widened. “I…I don’t understand?” She’d almost reached the end of the corridor, dark-red walls closing in on her like a predator on some wounded animal. “I came here to help you. Find a way to break your curse.”

Vassa clicked her tongue in disapproval. “I don’t think that’s the truth, Elain,” she countered, now only a mere five feet away from her. “I don’t think you’re the sweet, gracious lady you’re trying so hard to convince the world you are.”

Elain’s back hit the wall, and she inhaled sharply. “I…Excuse me?”

So this is how she wanted to play.

Not for the first time tonight, Vassa’s chest flared up with quiet fury. But this time, she let it consume her.

“I can feel Koschei all over you,” she said, and Elain went still as death.

Good.

“When we touched, I felt a flame erupt inside of me,” she continued.

“You’re a firebird,” Elain said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Vassa went on, ignoring her completely. “It was a familiar flame. But it was not my own,” she explained, glaring at Elain with an intensity she felt inside her very bones. “I have been bound to his lake for too long, lady. I can recognise his magic from a mile away. And you…” She leaned, their faces now only inches away. “You reek of it.”

“Queen Vassa,” Elain breathed, eyes pleading in shivering horror.

“Drop the formalities, Seer,” she commanded, letting her gaze scan Elain’s face slowly. “You and I are way past pleasantries, so you’re going to stand here and listen when I say this,” Vassa warned. “Whatever he has promised you, there will be a price. There is always a price.” She leaned back, cerulean eyes piercing her with dark threat. “Consider what it is that you truly want, Elain Archeron.”

Vassa was a bird of hot, raging flame. More importantly, Vassa was a queen. She would let nothing, no one, surprise her. But as Elain’s fear slowly reclined from her features, curving her no-longer trembling lips upward and filling her gaze with cold, steady venom…for the first time since she became cursed, Vassa felt her blood chill.

“You have no idea what I want,” Elain seethed.

Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added!): @separatist-apologist @ladyelain @headcanonheadcase @high-queen-nesta @nestasbitch @hollyleaf39 @how-to--disappear @foxwithagoldeye

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