#merry christmas from the vanserras! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

writtenonreceipts · 9 months

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a/n: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays @howlingcaptaincommando! It’s been a delight getting to know you these few weeks, thanks for putting up with my insanity and I hope you enjoy this messy, slightly chaotic thing…I'm sorry you got stuck with me. Considering all the bangers being released already and then there's this...

thank you to @acotargiftexchange for organizing this event again! <3<3<3

Warnings: none (except it’s me so you’ve gotta put up with that) ~10k words

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We’re All Waiting On A Dream

Elain Archeron had never done well with winter.

It was an unfortunate truth that no matter what she did—it never changed.

She could fill her house with plants and flowers, she could open all the blinds of the small coffee shop where she worked, she could bake her favorite bread and dessert every day of the week. But nothing could replace the sunlight of a new spring day or the deep unyielding warmth of the summer sun.

It was only mid-November and she was already craving when the sun would return. Already, she’d planned just how she would spend those first few warm days of the season and none of them involved being indoors, cold, or sitting around at home. She was going to travel and make the best of summer.

She just had to wait six months.

The lingering light of afternoon spilled through the front windows of the shop, splashing across the worn hardwood floors. It was barely four-thirty and already the sun was sneaking lower into the horizon. In just a few more minutes, it would sink behind the nearest buildings and shadows would replace those gentle strips of light.

It was unavoidable, so Elain made the best of it as she swept around the shop and adjusted the lamps that would soon do a majority of the lighting for the night. The dark oak flooring was nicked and scuffed from the wear and tear over the years. If Elain wasn’t mistaken it was the same flooring from when the shop was first built. One of these days she would try and restore the shabby wood, knowing that with a bit of sanding and new stain, the floors would gleam with new life. The project, with as much work as it would be, sounded fun. Another activity to wait to complete though.

For now, she continued her usual tasks as she straightened the small reading couch in one corner and collected a bit of trash that someone left behind. There usually wasn’t much cleaning to do even as a coffee shop. They were tucked down a small alleyway on main street, nestled beside the antiques boutique, only the locals ever really knew where to find them. And on nights like this, things usually remained relaxed and slow.

Really, though—she didn’t mind. These were the nights she enjoyed most. The quiet ones. The easy ones. The shop had long been her solace, even back in school when she’d just been a patron. Even when the winter months dragged on and on, she’d found that this place with its shelves of books and the homey atmosphere were welcoming and helped lighten her mind. It was the kind of the shop where nothing chaotic ever—

The front door jangled open with a frenzy that nearly toppled the bell along the top rail. A gust of winter air swept through the shop, nibbling at Elain’s exposed ankles. She spun around just in time to see a tall man dressed in a pair of neat, black pants and deep green sweater enter the shop. His long red hair hung loose down his shoulders; his warm tanned skin complimented by the colors of his sweater. He was too handsome for his own good, looking far too confident and sure of himself. None of which was helped by the smirk that curled his full lips.

“Elain.” he greeted as soon as he saw her.

Lucien Vanserra.

Even after all this time of knowing him, she never quite knew what to think of him. He had a way of taking the peaceable moments and turning them right on their head. No matter what happened, whenever or wherever Lucien was—there was certainly a bit of mischief to follow.

He was by himself tonight which wasn’t too much of an anomaly. Often, he was with one of his old college friends, Jurian. The two of them were well known for rambunctious energy and very little restraint. Elain had shared several classes with the two of them all through university, ended up in the same study groups, and now was subject to them coming into the shop just about every day.

She supposed she shouldn’t complain too much. Between college and the two of them were how she met one of her closest friends, Vassa, who was also currently dating Jurian. Or they were just sleeping together. Elain wasn’t too sure of the details but knew better than to ask else she face Vassa’s wrath and own probing questions.

Lucien himself was impossible to know, Elain had long ago decided. He could be an arrogant smartass while all at the same time—an idiot. The fact that he was the most attractive man Elain had ever seen didn’t help much either.

“Lucien.” Much to her chagrin she often was at a loss for words when they came face to face. She’d always been flustered by him, not that she’d ever admit it. It was that disarming smile of his she was sure.

Lucien glanced around the empty shop. “Slow night?”

“It was,” Elain said, arching a brow. Just because he flustered her didn’t mean she had to like him.

Lucien only grinned as he approached the register. He was too comfortable here, Elain decided. Especially with that confidence he always seemed to walk with. She shouldn’t judge him for that. He was always here at the shop these days, mostly because it was the only quiet space on the downtown strip. Though, Elain had no idea what he was doing, only that it kept him busy. He almost always had a computer before him taking care of some sort of work. If he wasn’t going over documents, he was on the phone in quiet but urgent conversations. She hadn’t worked up the courage to ask him what it was he did for work, worried that it would open some unknown door that she couldn’t shut if she got in too deep.

She left off cleaning and went behind the counter already putting his usual order in. He always got the same thing no matter the time of day, no matter the time of year. She hadn’t meant to memorize it, but when she was always here working and he was always coming in—it was impossible not to do.

“Do you want your usual order?” The words slipped out before she could stop them. She only realized her mistake upon looking up to find Lucien cocking an eyebrow.

“Keeping tabs on my habits, Elain?” He looked far too pleased at that fact, that smile of his rising just a tick.

“Hard not to when you’re always here,” she said, drily. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“Nope.” he replied cheerfully.

Lucien really was a hard person to get to know, to understand, really. Elain had decided that back at university. His personality was so charming that he often received more attention than most. His good looks certainly helped too. Elain didn’t know if calling him a flirt was right or not, but his silver tongue often made her wonder if she’d ever experienced the real Lucien Vanserra. Even worse was, she sometimes wanted to know the real him.

He only chuckled at her sardonic look. “The usual is great. With an extra bagel, if you could?”

Elain took his payment and handed back the thick black credit card. “I’ll bring it out to you in a few.”

As she moved to get started on his drink—an iced vanilla latte with caramel—he remained at the counter, leaning against the solid granite. He did this every so often, trying to strike up a conversation with her. It was usually the stuff of nonsense that ranged from what she thought about pineapple on pizza to who keeps breaking into local zoos and releasing animals from their cages in the middle of the night.

He was immediately offended when she told him pineapple was acceptable as a pizza topping. In fact, she didn’t see him for three days after that confession. Though she didn’t think it really had anything to do with her and more on the lines of the mysterious work he was always up to.

“You’re always here, Elain,” Lucien said. “Don’t you ever get a break?”

Elain scoffed at the question. “I can’t afford time off. I’ve got bills to pay.”

School hadn’t been cheap and she still was not working in her major. A fact she would rather not think about.

“Jurian and I are going to a basketball game next week,” he said, “you should come.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d endeavored to invite her out. Just a few weeks ago there’d been a party thrown by Lucien’s older brother. It was supposedly one of the best parties of the year, including New Years.

Though, Elain wasn’t sure what counted as best party of the year considering all the times Lucien and Jurian had thrown dorm parties involving ranking Mario Cart avatars and how best to optimize playing the game to goldfish racing.

Elain didn’t bother to learn about the second activity.

“Can’t,” she said. She pulled two toasted bagels from the toaster and wrapped them up with a tube of cream cheese. “Someone’s gotta run the shop.”

It was true. Alis had stopped trying to hire anyone new because Elain always insisted on picking up shifts. Sure there was Nuala or Ceridwen who also rotated on shifts, but Elain preferred to be working.

Lucien frowned, just barely, at her answer before he accepted the bagels and finished drink from her. “Alright, it’s an open invitation though.”

He continued to eye her curiously for a minute longer before finally turning and heading to his usual table in the back corner of the shop.

Elain couldn't help but watch as he settled into his seat before turning back to her workstation to clean up after herself. A small pang echoed in her chest but she didn’t quite know how to identify the emotion behind it.

It wasn’t as though she wanted to be a recluse. Ever since leaving school, things hadn’t gone her way. Jobs kept turning her down. Her student loans were piling up. Most of her friends had moved away. Not to mention her relationship with her sisters was rocky at best. Their mother’s death hadn’t helped matters either. In all honesty, the distraction of always being at work was nice. She was exhausted by the time she got home and almost always immediately fell asleep and didn’t have to think about anything else other than keeping herself (and plants) alive.

She used to be the going out type. Used to love the social scene. It got harder though when dad’s health was declining. And then the Grayson matter.

Something needed to change. She knew that. Just a small little switch to flick and then maybe she’d feel a little bit better about where she was in life. Every time she thought about what that change could be, however, her mind only let her consider all the disastrous and unfortunate outcomes that would inevitably occur.

Which was why Tinder had long since gone dormant on her phone.

It was with these thoughts in mind that Elain was startled to attention by the door of the shop thudding open again.

“Where on earth have you been!”

Elain froze at the voice. She’d just settled in to run an inventory of supplies on the computer when her sister chose that moment to enter the shop.

Nesta Archeron entered the shop like a whirlwind. A chaotic, well put together whirlwind that hardly, if ever, touched down. She was constantly involved with one event or another, specifically to please her fiancé, or she was trying to keep her own career afloat (made nearly impossible because Thomas was an ass). There was no easy way to describe Nesta. Especially not when she hardly offered anything of herself in return. Elain loved her sister, truly she did, but sometimes the woman could be rather intense.

Her blonde hair was swept back in half-do, tendrils of hair framing her sharp features and emphasizing the startling silver of her eyes. The neutral tones of her make-up only emphasized her striking beauty and highlighted the determined way she was looking at Elain.

“I’ve been here,” Elain said, slightly amused as she typed into the computer. “All day. My job is rather annoying like that.”

Nesta rolled her eyes, unamused and stalked the rest of the way to the register, her high heeled shoes clicked lightly on the floor, her black dress and sleek jacket indicating it had been a please the fiancé sort of day and not one to have to herself. She set her purse, some designer that Elain didn’t recognize, on the counter and leaned forward with a frown.

“You missed the dress fitting,” Nesta said.

Elain nodded. “Just like I told you I would. There was no one to take my shift and I wasn’t about to close shop in the middle of the day.”

Elain had tried explaining this to her sister before, but since it was an inconvenience for her, Nesta had forgotten it. Alright. That was unfair. Nesta did have quite a bit of stress as she was trying to plan a wedding with a useless fiancé. And said useless fiancé was having Nesta take over quite a bit of his own business duties.

Anytime Elain tried talking to her sister about it, Nesta shut down and changed the topic entirely.

“I know,” Nesta sighed, brushing stray strands of hair out of her face. A look of genuine apology flashed in her eyes. “I know. I’m sorry, but it was the only time that worked and you know how important this is for Thomas. But I really needed you at the fitting, Elain. Everything has to go perfectly.”

Flinching inwardly, Elain held back a sigh. On Saturday, her soon to be brother-in-law was to be honored as the new vice-president of his company…doing something of some import. All because of the work Nesta herself had done.

In any case, Elain would be expected to attend because the more people there in support of Thomas the better he came off to his boss. Though, if he were being promoted his boss must already think highly of him. (It was all very convoluted to Elain.)

Then came the fact that Thomas did not like her. And she didn’t like him, so really it all worked out that way. But Elain liked her sister. She wanted to support her sister. And now she was roped into a hoity toity gala. She’d have to shave. Everywhere.

“Nesta,” Elain said patiently, “I am more than happy to support Thomas,” who knew she was an excellent liar? – “and I will be there. Buy the dress as is and I can have Vassa alter it for me. She’s good like that.”

Vassa would laugh her ass off is what she would do, but Elain wouldn’t tell Nesta that.

Nesta blinked, a mild look of panic seizing her face. “Does Vassa know anything about sewing?”

“Sure,” Elain shrugged. “How hard could it be?”

“Elain.”

“Nesta.” Elain reached out and patted her sister’s hand. “The dress fit perfectly the first time I tried it on, three weeks isn’t going to make much of a difference.”

“Alright. You’re right.” Nesta sighed, slouching even further into the counter. Elain had no doubt her sister was counting down the moment to when she could kick her heels off into a corner and not look at them for at least twenty-four hours. “I won’t worry about the dress. But, I do need to know who you’re bringing.”

“Bringing?” Elain repeated. An icy feeling started spreading through her. Oh no. Oh no. She hadn’t prepared for this.

“Yes bringing, you can't come alone Elain,” Nesta said. She gave Elain a look as this was the most obvious thing. “There will be cameras and Thomas’s boss will be there too.”

Why Elain should care about Thomas’s boss, she had no idea. Why anyone would care about her being there, she had no idea. And she said as much.

“Who cares if I have a date?” She demanded. “I am a grown woman. I don't have to bring anyone. I don’t think anyone will want to stamp my picture on whatever new pamphlet the company puts out next year.”

Nesta’s own panic spread across her face. “Please, Elain. I know it’s a little ridiculous, but it has to go perfectly. I know someone I can ask for you, Thomas has a friend—”

Elain blanched.

“No, no I have someone. I have someone…a boy. A boyfriend. I have one.” Elain spoke before she even knew what she was saying. She was digging her own grave but her brain hadn't caught up to that fact.

“You have a boyfriend?” Nesta snapped to attention at the words. Her blue eyes narrowed in on Elain. “Why haven't I heard about him? What's his name, where did he study? Family?”

She really had to think before she spoke. This was not going to end well. Elain gaped at her sister trying hard to think of an answer. How much could she make up before Nesta caught on? Could she fabricate the perfect gentleman only to have him break her heart on the night of the event? Or would that be too dramatic and detract from Thomas?

Elain pulled herself together as best she could. “This is why I didn't say anything because I knew you would do this, Nesta.”

“Honestly Elain, if you’re just going to make up a story--” Nesta was already pulling out her phone and selecting a number in her contacts.

“Lucien.” Elain blurted out the first name that came to mind. “Lucien Vanserra. That’s who he is. And he's right here. Lucein!”

At the very direct sound of his name, Lucien looked up from his coffee and laptop with a bite of bagel making its way to his mouth. It was the first time she had ever seen him caught off guard. It was rather unfortunate that she didn't have time to appreciate it properly.

Lucien recovered from whatever shock he was facing or he was just that good at reading a situation because he set down his bagel and in a few loping steps he was back out the counter, his grin back in place.

“Elain.” As always, he appeared perfectly agreeable, his casual business wear only emphasizing how put together he was. Whether he’d overheard what Elain and her sister had been talking about, she couldn’t tell. She just hoped he was as good an actor as he always seemed to be.

Especially given the fact that Nesta was scrutinizing him in overtime.

“This is the boyfriend?” Nesta asked, her words slow as if she herself needed to make sense of them too.

Lucien glanced at Elain with a rather bemused expression. She gave him as pleading a look as she could while Nesta continued her assessment.

When Lucien nodded discreetly at her, Elain felt a small bit of relief. She wouldn’t trust it for long though.

“Lucien Vanserra,” he said. He extended a hand to Nesta who paused for a moment before accepting. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Elain talks about you all the time.”

Nesta didn’t answer immediately. As with everything, she took great care in analyzing everything about a situation.

“Vanserra,” Nesta repeated. She had a thing about names and people and appearances. Vanserra must have been a decent enough name because Nesta raised her chin slightly, a slow smile working at one corner of her mouth. “She hasn’t mentioned you before.”

Unperturbed, Lucien adopted his casual ease and laughed. “Considering how long it took for her to pay me any attention, I’m not surprised.”

His words sent an unbidden flush over Elain’s skin even as she glared at him. She didn’t exactly know what to make of his words either. Either he was very good at lying on the spot (concerning) or there was a pinch of truth to his words (also concerning).

“Well,” Nesta said. She turned back to Elain abruptly. “Saturday. The event starts at seven, I expect you to be there at six-thirty. Six-thirty, Elain.”

“I will be there,” Elain said, Nesta gave her a look. “We will be there.”

The only thing that saved Elain from further humiliation by her own doing was Nesta’s phone buzzing with an incoming call.

Nesta only ignored it long enough to raise a single brow to Lucien. “Black tie.”

It wasn’t until the door of the shop clicked shut that Elain let out a rather unfeminine groan and nearly collapsed across the work counter. What had she just gotten herself into?

“So,” Lucien said, his voice growing closer as he filled the space Nesta vacated. Elain looked up to him leaning across the space to get closer to her. “When did we start dating?”

Elain felt her cheeks flush deeper. Oh hell, what had she done?

Huffing out a breath she straightened and ran her hands through her hair. She fixed Lucien with as menacing a look as she could while he kept grinning.

“What was I supposed to do? She was going to set me up with someone from her fiancé’s work. I’ve seen a majority of those men, no good options.” Elain knew she was rambling in desperation, but she couldn’t help it. Thankfully the embarrassment of the past ten minutes hadn’t set in yet. That was one miracle she’d accept.

“Hm,” Lucien hummed, “I do see your dilemma. This is a rather interesting choice of action though, all the same.”

Groaning, Elain started pacing behind the counter. “It’s fine. I can make up a dramatic break-up story within the next three days. That’ll fix this. Oh, no. It won’t because she knows your name, she’ll find you. I could fake an illness? Except I used that the last time there was one of these events.”

This was turning out to be not very good.

Elain stopped and looked at him. “I am so sorry. This is going to be a nightmare.”

“Ah, Elain, what you don’t know about me is that I was born for mischief and mayhem. Just ask my mother, she has an entire photo album dedicated to the destruction I caused as a child.”

“I don’t think this is helping,” she said, slightly horrified.

He flashed her a smile. “Oh but it will help. I can promise a night full of fun, you’ll hardly even realize you’re at a…where are we going?”

“A work party for her fiancé’s marketing company,” Elain explained, crinkling her nose as she remembered the rather mundane and boring job Thomas had. “He just landed an account for drills and is being promoted.”

“Why the hell would anyone—” Lucien cut himself off with a wave of his hand— “doesn’t matter. The point still stands that I can guarantee a fun night.”

“Can you hold a conversation about drills?”

“No but I do know magic.”

“Absolutely not.”

The two stared at each other for a long moment.

Lucien spoke first. “It’d be hilarious. Get you out of any more of these events.”

A startled laugh escaped her. She couldn’t help it. There was just something in the way he spoke and the sincerity that he held that just seemed funny. At her first bubble of laughter, Lucien joined in.

“C’mon, Elain, consider it a practice run,” he said.

“Practice run?” Elain repeated.

“Sure,” Lucien shrugged. “When you come to the basketball game with Jurian and I. Vassa can come.”

His eyes sparked with a mix of humor and…hope?

Elain approached the counter again, still not believing that he was agreeing to this. Even with a little bit of insistence to his own favor. In all honesty, she wasn’t entirely sure why he was so interested in her. In school she’d been a bit intense in her studies and hadn’t left much room from friendships or other relationships for that matter. But he’d always been there on the edge of her sights. A nuisance sure, but there all the same. And there weren’t a lot of people she could say the same of.

“You have a suit and tie?” she asked. He nodded. “You’re okay with pretending to be my boyfriend?” Another nod. “You won’t let this be a thing that you hold over my head?”

“Elain,” Lucien said. A bit of the humor left his voice and he straightened. “Consider it a favor among friends. You don’t even have to go watch basketball. I want to help you out.”

She worried her lip, still not completely convinced. But she knew what would happen if she showed up alone and knew that Nesta would laud it over her for the rest of their lives.

“Alright,” she agreed. “Lucien Vanserra, would you please be my fake boyfriend?”

His russet eyes sparked. “Elain Archeron, it would be my pleasure.”

…

On Saturday evening, Elain found herself trying to control her sanity. It was not going very well.

“Would you hold still?” Vassa muttered for yet another time. She stabbed Elain’s shoulder with a bobby pin. “We’re almost done.”

Elain squirmed again. Usually, she didn’t mind sitting still and being pampered. Hell, she loved it. Getting dressed up and looking her best was something she missed being able to do. It had been the one thing she was looking forward to about the night. After so long of being so shut in, having a night to just be and have fun? If it weren’t for the mess of dealing with Thomas (and now a forced fake relationship) she wouldn’t have given her sister such a hard time.

As it was, she was still nervous.

Maybe it was being out among people again? No, she’d always loved people and making new friends. It had to be Lucien. It had to be the idea of getting closer to him even for a night. She had no idea why. It was just Lucien.

But the closer the clock ticked to six, the more her stomach flopped.

Vassa tugged hard on Elain’s hair.

“Ow!”

“Oops.”

Elain glared through the mirror at her friend who ignored her. It hadn’t taken very much pleading to enlist her friends help in preparing for this stupid party. Mostly just a promised girl’s night out. Though, after Elain had explained what had happened and who she would be going with and the entirety of the fake boyfriend situation—Vassa had found no issue in helping Elain out.

Once she’d stopped laughing of course.

“This is going to be a disaster,” Elain muttered. She wrung her hands together as she stared at their reflections. “I should have just put my foot down and told Nesta no.”

“Since when has telling Nesta no ever worked out, Elain?” Vassa replied. She shoved another bobby pin into place causing Elain to wince. “Besides, Lucien is fun. Do you remember in school when he hired a mariachi band to follow the dean around?”

That, admittedly, had been hilarious. There was also the time Lucien and Jurian had built a giant outdoor water slide on the hottest day of the year. Complete with a water balloon fight afterwards. If there was one thing to say about Lucien it was that he enjoyed having a good time.

“And he’s good looking,” Vassa added.

“Vassa,” Elain sighed.

“He comes into your shop a lot too,” Vassa said. She cocked her head to one side through the mirror, a small smile on her lips.

Elain’s glare went ignored. Again.

After another few minutes, Vassa hummed happily and patted Elain’s head.

“There,” she said. “I think that looks good.”

It really did.

While Elain could often manage on her own to make herself look flawless and put together—she’d needed a bit more confidence for that night. And who else could she ask for help than Vassa?

Most of her hair still flowed down her back in loose curls, but the rest was pulled up in a twisting braid. It all came together with the carefully applied make-up Elain had done.

“Thanks,” Elain said. She touched a few places in her hair out of habit. Everything was perfect though.

“You’re gonna look great,” Vassa said. Her smile was infectious as she leaned in for a quick hug. “Let's get you in your dress. He’ll be here any minute.”

Elain’s stomach flopped again. She really wasn’t going to get out of this was she? And yet there was a small part of her that asked if she really wanted to.

It had been ages since she’d had a fun night out. Even if it was to go to an event for Thomas of all people—Elain was just eager for fun. And she was going with Lucien. Lucien who actually made Elain smile. And he’d never pressured her in all the little flirtations he’d thrown her way. He’d remained respectful and even kept his distance when she’d silently begged for it. Not that he’d known what was going in in her life, but her relationship with Grayson had been a joke. It’s what had led to her slipping away from her usual outgoing self…

Elain banished the thoughts away. She couldn’t be thinking about this.

She hurried after Vassa and down the hall to her room.

She hadn’t been able to get any help with making extra modifications to the gown, but she wasn’t worried. She’d never had an issue with finding things that fit easily. Both Nesta and Feyre hated her for it, but Elain had never been more grateful than she was that night.

Vassa was already pulling the dress from its coverings, revealing the floor length fabric. If there was one thing Elain could trust Nesta in, it was her fashion sense.

The dress was a pale purple made of a light chiffon fabric. There was a little bit of rouching at the sides with a draped neckline. Elian’s favorite part about the dress though were the sheer flutter sleeves. It might be a little impractical with the chill weather, but she didn’t care.

She couldn’t help the small smile as she examined the dress. Yes. She was more than a little excited to wear it. She hurried and stripped from her leggings and tank top before shimming into the dress. The other good thing was that she didn’t have to mess with a strapless bra and could get away with what she usually wore.

She waited as Vassa zipped her in and brushed out any wrinkles or funny lines in the fabric.

Vassa hummed in amusement as she circled Elain once. “Your breasts look amazing.”

Hell.

Elain smacked her friend on the arm and turned to the full-length mirror propped up in the corner of her room. Indeed, her breasts looked amazing. The dress was of a silky material that clung to Elain’s usually nonexistent curves. The sweetheart neckline dipped a bit lower than she expected, showing off more of her neck and collarbones. The soft purple color complimented her lighter complexion and the rich brown undertones of her hair. She didn’t look washed out or haunted—she looked like herself. Happy.

“Damn,” Elain sighed. “I was hoping I’d look terrible. Nesta wouldn’t blame me for not showing up if I looked like a cow.”

Vassa snorted a laugh. “Please, Elain. You’d look good in anything.”

Elain bit her lip and gave a half spin, watching the fabric twist with her movements. “I don’t know if I have a jacket that will match. It’s too cold to go without something.”

“I’ve got just the thing,” Vassa said before disappearing to her own room.

As soon as she vanished, there was a knock at the front door and Elain froze. Hell. It was already time, wasn’t it?

She took a long breath, flattening her hands over her stomach. She could do this. It was going to be fun and easy. Lucien after all had agreed to no pressure, they were simply friends. She stared into her own eyes, gave a sharp nod and hurried down the hall to the small entry way of the apartment. She took one more steadying breath as she pulled the door open.

There, looking impeccable in a neat, black suit and perfectly knotted tie was Lucien. His hair was unfortunately pulled back into a low hanging tail, Elain always liked seeing it loose. The suit fit him well, emphasizing his muscular build well. He looked good. He’d always been handsome with his tall figure and strong jaw, but tonight felt different.

Elain knew she was staring, but she couldn’t help it. The only solace she took in that was the way Lucien was taking her in. His gaze flicked from her dress to her face and she swore his mouth parted just a bit. Now he was just putting on a show.

“Lucien,” she said, trying desperately to untangle her tongue. “You clean up well.”

That had to be the stupidest thing she could have said. Hell in handbasket, what was wrong with her?

Still, that familiar smile of his returned and a glint sparked in his rich russet eyes. “I could say the same about you, Elain.”

The way he said her name sent a shiver racing down her spine. Another thing she didn’t know how to reconcile. Because if she were being honest, she was surprised he’d shown up at all. He easily could have text a brief can’t make it text and really, could she have blamed him? She cleared her throat, hands wringing together nervously. She had no idea what was wrong with her—she didn’t get nervous, especially not around Lucien Vanserra of all people.

“I almost thought you didn’t own a tie,” she added, falling back to what she knew--sarcasm. “You always say they’re too restricting.”

Lucien rolled his eyes. “Until I started working for my brother. Apparently, I have to be professional nowadays.”

“Poor Lucien,” Elain sighed, “has to join the real world with the rest of us.”

“It’s terrible,” he agreed.

Before either of them could say anything else, Vassa gave a shout of triumph from down the hall.

“I found it!” With the rapid pattering of bare feet, Vassa careened from her room and down to the entryway of the apartment. Her red hair pitched violently to one side from the confines of her bun. She waved a stylish jacket at Elain as she approached. “It will match perfectly, Nesta won’t have to gouge your eyes out.”

Elain accepted the jacket. “Thanks, Vassa.”

“Of course,” Vassa said. She then flashed Lucien an appraising look. “Hello Vanserra.”

Lucien accepted Vassa’s scrutiny with grace, only continuing to smile with that charming grin of his. “Vassa, nice to see you again.”

Despite her earlier words of approval of him--Vassa continued to eye him suspiciously.

“I have a list of rules that should be adhered to,” she began.

“No you do not,” Elain said. She brushed past Vassa and gave her a quick hug. “We’re late. Thank-you for your help.”

She grabbed Lucien’s arm and ushered him out the door as quickly as possible.

“Don’t do anything illegal, I don’t have bail money!” Vassa shouted after them.

Elain let the door click shut without calling back a response. It was easier that way. Especially when there was no guarantee what Vassa would say next. Sometimes her filter was a hit and miss.

“She’s always such a delight,” Lucien commented as they got on the elevator.

Elain snorted a laugh. “Oh, yeah. She teeters on the edge of unsuspecting sweetheart to raging terror real quick.”

Once you got to know Vassa, to understand her nuances and her habits--she maintained the questionable reputation but with a bit more trust and care on your part. Truly, Elain didn’t know where she would be without her friend.

“Didn’t she stage a revolution of frogs from the Biology Department on campus?” Lucien asked.

“It was very well organized,” Elain admitted. She did not, however, remind Lucien that she had been right beside Vassa in running said revolution.

Despite Lucien’s protests, Elain insisted she drive. Mostly for that semblance of control that she felt was slipping away from her. She was far too nervous that she needed to be for the night. Which was ridiculous considering this would turn out to be the most boring night imaginable. No matter what Nesta insisted.

“Isn’t this the car you had back in school?” Lucien asked as Elain pulled out onto the highway. “How is it still running?”

True, Elain’s small two-door car had quite a few years on her and the air conditioning didn’t work, but it was a good car. She said as much.

“She’s reliable and all of her issues are easily fixed,” Elain said. She paused. “Well, that’s mostly because the stereo is really good and the speakers drown out any annoying sound.”

“Right, so what you’re telling me is that I could possibly die tonight?”

“You’re the one who insisted on helping me out,” Elain replied. She smiled then, allowing the small levity of the moment to potentially ease her nerves. When she glanced at Lucien, she found him watching her, a look of amusement in his eyes.

She turned back to the road and tried to ignore the way her heart fluttered at just having him here. It was stupid really. Just a response to being grateful he’d volunteered to this hairbrained idea.

“So,” Lucien began after a few minutes of silence, “how long have we been dating?”

“Is this really necessary?” she asked, the flutters picking up pace at his words.

“We’ve got to have a background Elain,” Lucien insisted, “can’t have anyone poking holes in this plot. What would your sister say?”

Elain paused only a beat. “That I could have tried harder.”

“Exactly, now. How long have we been dating?” he asked.

Elain wondered if she should be concerned by his enthusiasm about this. “Just a few months. Nothing elaborate.”

“A few months and already willing to send me to the throes of your family? You must really like me then.”

Elain glared while Lucien laughed. It continued from there with them establishing details of how best they could pull this off. Mostly, they leaned on their college days to fill in any details of how they met and things like that. There wouldn’t be much lying involved since they’d shared so many classes right up until the division into their specific degrees. But Elain couldn’t help but laugh as he insisted it would work out fine.

“Please, Lucien,” she said as she pulled into the event center, where there was a line waiting for the valet. “You hated me back then, how’s anyone going to believe this?”

“You think I hated you?” Lucien asked, genuine concern flashing in his eyes.

Elain’s lips parted, though she didn’t know how to reply. She started to speak when a soft knock on her window indicated the valet was ready for them.

Glad for the interruption, she scrambled out of the car. The young man dressed in a starched red vest was kind enough to help her out of the dinky little car. And he didn’t even give her a side-eyed glance at the pathetic nature of her car. That was nice.

She was still smoothing out her dress when Lucien came around the car and offered up his arm for her.

“Thanks,” she murmured, accepting the offer. If she were being honest, she needed the support of someone beside her for this. It had been a while since she’d come out to an event like this. Ever since her messy break-up with Grayson, she just hadn’t been up to going out.

And she loved parties. Truly, before Grayson, this would have been the highlight of her night, her week. But after everything the man had put her through, Elain felt more than a bit of unease run through her. Insecurities she’s felt throughout her relationship resurfaced. She needed this night to prove to herself, and Nesta, that she was fine. She was more than fine. She was back to her usual self. She was moving on. She was—

“Elain,” Lucien said from beside her, his finger squeezing her arm just enough to be reassuring, “I can hear you overthinking this.”

She made a non-committal noise and let Lucien lead them up to the entrance doors behind another couple.

“It’s fine,” she assured him. “Really it is, all Nesta needs is to see me, then we can go find the caterer and beg for free food while hiding in the kitchen.”

“We can do that?” he asked, sounding intrigued by the idea. “I thought you’d jump at the opportunity to be at an event like this.”

“Usually I would,” Elain admitted, she shrugged delicately. “I just can’t help but think something will go wrong with the night. Or the dress. Nesta wanted me to get it professionally altered but I didn’t have time, or money. But Nesta likes being in control of things like this, I guess.” She paused. “I have cash stuffed in my bra; I am not beneath offering bribes. We could be out of here in five minutes if we wanted.”

“Elain,” Lucien said softly as a woman offered to take their coats, “you’re freaking out.”

“If I were freaking out, you’d know it,” Elain replied. “I am merely over explaining everything to give me less time to worry about everything else.”

They entered the main hall of the center that had been completely transformed from the last time Elain had been here for a coffee expo for work. Instead of standard tables and plain rugs, there was open space intermixed with tall glass tables and softly glowing lights. It actually looked like an important event and some hoax.

“Here she comes,” Elain said, spotting her sister immediately.

Nesta strode toward them with purposeful steps. The dress clung to her curves from the chest to her waist before billowing out around her hips. The dark blue fabric was inlaid with beads that caught in the light, offering a little softness to the otherwise intimidating dress. Though, there was no one else who could have pulled it off then Nesta. She’d twisted her hair into a coronet of braids with beaded pins to match the dress.

Elain couldn’t help but fidget with her dress. Nesta had always been strikingly beautiful not only with her looks, but she was tall and well portioned in all the right places she should have been. Elain had never felt the same about herself. Oh, she’d been called lovely and pretty on many occasions, but here and now she felt like nothing in comparison to her sister.

A hand rested at the small of her back and Lucien leaned in to her side. “You look beautiful, Elain. And if your sister doesn’t think so, she’s insane.”

The simple words caused heat to rise in Elain’s cheeks and she found herself staring into Lucien’s eyes. Bright, russet eyes that had flecks of gold spinning amid the darker shades. The certainty with which he spoke surprised her more than anything.

“Elain!” Nesta called out in a cheery voice that belied how stressed out she actually was. Nesta was never cheerful. Elain could swear she could see the whites of her sister’s eyes even from ten feet away. “There you are.”

“Nesta,” Elain greeted as her sister approached.

Nesta pulled Elain into a tight hug, shocking considering how touch averse the eldest Archeron could be. Elain accepted it for the good will gesture it was.

When she pulled back, Nesta smiled softly. “You do look lovely. The dress turned out perfect.”

“Thank-you,” Elain murmured.

Nesta gave her arm another squeeze before turning to look Lucien over. She nodded once tightly. “Well. I’m glad you’re both here. It’s going to be a good night. Thomas’ boss is over there with the red tie, don’t look! Red tie, silver hair. Do not talk to him unless you promise to behave.”

“I’m twenty-five, Nesta,” Elain said, “I know how to behave in social situations.”

Nesta fixed her with a signature unamused glare just as Lucien spoke up.

“Does that mean no magic tricks?” He leaned in into Elain. “I practiced and everything.”

“Absolutely not.” Nesta gaped at him.

Elain barely managed to hold back her grin. “Oh, but he’s actually really good, Nesta. Doesn’t even need an assistant or anything.”

That got a warning finger waggled in both of their faces.

“Absolutely no shenanigans,” she said, “do I made myself clear?”

A spare glance at Lucien told Elain he was trying, and failing to appear chastened.

“We’ll go occupy ourselves,” Elain said, “don’t worry so much.”

That was probably the last thing Nesta wanted to hear. But Elain only smiled brightly and grabbed Lucien’s hand, pulling him with her.

“We’ll be over here!”

“Not doing magic.”

Elain smacked Lucien on the chest. He didn’t even bother to hide his laugh.

“Behave!” Nesta hissed. She spun on her heel to return to Thomas’ side where he was regaling his boss with what must have been a truly miserable story about the lint stuck to his tie.

“C’mon,” Elain said, one hand still gripping Lucien’s. “I think there’s an open bar.”

Together, they slipped through the throngs of people that continued to arrive. Elain recognized a few from various parties she’d been forced to attend on other occasions. How she’d gained such notoriety for herself was a bit concerning. Both for her sake and Nesta’s, seeing as how Nesta would insist on determining a contingency plan to explain Elain’s antics to whoever may listen.

The plan would have to explain away Lucien now too as Elain was forced to introduce her boyfriend over and over.

After nearly fifteen minutes of socializing with people Elain barely even knew--they managed to break free to the tables standing at the ready for a casual setting of drinks and hor-d'oeuvres brought around by waitstaff in black and white uniforms.

“Why don’t you get a table,” Lucien suggested, “I’ll get us some drinks.”

“Sure,” Elain agreed.

She watched him as he disappeared into the small crowd near the bar. It was strange being here with him. Having him as her date and acting like this was the most normal thing to occur. She didn’t really understand why he’d agreed to this plan—helping her. Well, if only to swindle another date out of her. But this certainly was an elaborate way to get what he wanted.

She managed to find a few open chairs at a back table, not that she minded. To have a little bit of isolation away from the awkward small talk of Thomas’ company was preferable.

Though, just as she moved to go claim the seats, a hand grabbed her elbow. Elain spun around to come face to face with the one person she’d been hoping to avoid.

“Grayson,” Elain said, trying her best not to appear utterly taken aback by his appearance. She’d known he was going to be here. Had planned for it really, she’d just hoped he wouldn’t have actually tried to talk to her.

They’d dated for a year, the relationship ending only a few months ago now. Nesta had introduced them at an event just like this. Grayson worked in just one department over from Thomas. It was the perfect situation, Nesta had insisted, and Grayson had always been a respectable prospect.

But everything promptly fell apart when Elain had suggested going back to get her master’s and maybe even doctorate. The news hadn’t settled well with Grayson who only wanted a perfect nuclear family and a perfect wife to be waiting for him at home.

She drew away from him even as he tried stepping in closer.

“Elain, it’s good to see you.” Grayson had a standard profile, nothing truly remarkable in his looks, though he did have a good nose. His brown hair was neatly styled back, cut in a perfect standard haircut. “I didn’t think you would be here.”

“I’m supporting my sister and her fiance,” Elain said.

She’d spent the better part of the last few months not necessarily getting over him—rather the way he made her feel. She hadn’t been happy with the thought of simply coming home and doing nothing with her life. While she wanted a family and wanted kids, she knew there was more she wanted to do with her life first. Grayson had tried to make her regret all those things. He’d stifled her, guilted her, done all the things that made her question who she really was.

There had been enough time wasted over him that she wasn’t interested in wasting even more.

She tried slipping past him. “I should go, I have—”

Grayson was too quick for her. He stepped in front of her again, hand already reaching for her.

“We should talk, get caught up,” he insisted.

Elain could only stare. He’d been so insistent about a clean break that he hadn’t even bothered to return any of the things she’d left at his apartment. Only to pop up in her DMs a few months later to “check-up.” She didn’t need this. Or want this.

“No,” she said. “You don’t actually want that, Gray. And I certainly don’t.”

The grip on her arm tightened as a dark look flashed in his pale eyes. He’d never liked being told no. Some would say that was what made him good at his job. Elain would say that was the real reason why she was happy with their break-up.

“Everything alright, Elain?”

Never had that voice sent so much relief spiraling through her. Behind Grayson, Lucien had returned, drinks in hand. But he wasn’t looking at Elain. His attention rested solely on Grayson who slowly turned to assess the new arrival.

To Grayson’s credit, he didn’t balk at the sight of Lucien. Even though Lucien was several inches taller with a stronger build. Grayson had always been on the leaner side. But with the dark look in his eyes and the way he stood, nearly towering over the bother of them—Lucien was not someone to be easily ignored.

“She’s fine,” Grayson answered before Elain had the chance.

Lucien quirked a single eyebrow and finally looked at Elain. He still had that hard look in his eyes, but Elain knew that razor thin line between anger and control had nothing to do with her.

“Is everything alright, Elain?” he asked again.

“Fine,” Elain replied, rather proud that she was able to keep her voice even. “I was just telling Grayson that you were waiting for me.”

This time as Elain pulled away, Grayson let her go. She was able to skirt around him and to Lucien without any fanfare. As it was, they’d drawn a few eyes of other attendees.

“Elain,” Grayson began. But Elain had no desire to hear what else he had to say.

“My boyfriend and I were leaving,” she said promptly.

Then with a bit more force than she intended, she managed to drag Lucien away from the growing scene. It was a shame, she really wanted to dance at least a little bit.

She didn’t stop until they were through a small side door that led out into an empty hallway. It was blissfully quiet and several degrees cooler than in the event room.

“That,’ she said, “was just what I wanted to avoid.”

Lucien said nothing, only handing her a glass of champagne. Elain accepted it gratefully. While she’d never much cared for the taste, she needed something that would maybe settle her nerves. Because everything inside of her was feeling spun on its head.

After she drowned the first glass, Lucien held out the second which she took too.

“Are you sure you're alright?” he asked again. He didn’t try to reach out to her or comfort her in any other way. Which Elain was grateful for. The adrenaline still snapping through her would likely have made her do something stupid.

“Yeah,” she said. She took another sip of champagne before shaking her head. “He’s just an ass and I should have done a better job at avoiding him.”

“Ex?” he confirmed.

“I didn’t even like him that much,” Elain admitted.

She took a step down the blackened hallway that had only one emergency light burning in the distance. A sheer glass wall looked out into a small garden walkway between two different parts of the center. Most of the foliage was beginning to bloom with bright green leaves dancing in a small breeze that rustled outside.

Elain turned back to Lucien and smiled softly. “Sorry. I promised an easy night out, not stacked with drama. Thank-you though, for showing up when you did.”

“What are fake boyfriends for?” Lucien joked, returning her smile. “Did you know he’d be here?”

“I figured,” Elain said, “Nesta had Thomas introduce us. And It was fine for a while…until it wasn’t. I think she was going to try and set me up with him again tonight, just so I wouldn’t show up alone.”

Elain smiled softly. She didn’t blame her sister, not really. She hadn’t told anyone except Vassa the real reason behind her and Gray’s break-up. She just didn’t think Nesta would understand. Her sister had always had so much control over her own life that Elain felt if she admitted to her own insecurities…it would almost be a failure in and of itself.

“And I didn’t want that,” Elain said. She set the second champagne glass down on a side table that had been left out in the hall. And then because it seemed like the best thing to do, she apologized again. “I’m sorry.”

“Elain,” Lucien said, stepping towards her. “You have nothing to apologize for. Hell, you got roped into this whole night against your will.”

“Sometimes it’s just easier to go along with Nesta,” Elain said with a wane smile. “I know she just wants this to be a good night for Thomas and she’s doing her best but…”

Lucien didn’t let her finish her sentence. He took her hand in one of his large ones, immediately engulfing her in warmth.

“C’mon.”

He began pulling her down the hall, away from the party.

“What? Where are we going?” Elain asked.

Lucien only flashed a mischievous smile, the overhead lights catching in the deep umber of his eyes. He led them to an emergency exit that took them outside to the cool night air. After the stress of running into Grayson, the fresh air felt wonderful to Elain. Even if the overhead clouds threatened rain, she loved the feeling of being outside.

After a few yards they reached the valet stand once again. The same workers as before eyed them with a mix of amusement and wariness.

“We’ll need our car back,” Lucien informed them, passing a tip over as he spoke. He then turned to Elain. “Wait here, I’ll get your coat. I’d rather not have Vassa plot my murder.”

He shucked off his own jacket in the meantime and draped it over her shoulders before dashing off back to the event center. Elain could only stare after him. Was he seriously suggesting they leave early? Elain could already picture the face Nesta would be making once she realized they were gone. And the texts she’d receive.

But she knew even if she’d tried to object to Lucien, he would ignore her and insist playing a little hooky never hurt anyone. It wasn’t long at all when he returned with her coat.

“What are we doing?” Elain asked as they swapped coats back.

“There’s an ice cream place just down the street,” Lucien said, “best pecan praline in the city. None of the food in there was interesting anyways, no bacon and no shrimp. I checked.”

Elain’s sad little car puttered into view, coming to a stop just before them. The valet got out, holding the door open.

“Ah-ah,” Lucien said, blocking Elain before she could get in. “You had two glasses of champagne.”

“One and a half,” she argued.

“Close enough.” He had the gall to wink at her before escorting her around to the passenger side. “Relax, Elain.”

She scowled at him, but ultimately knew he was right. She shouldn’t be driving even if she thought she was fine. Instead, she glared at him the entire time that he got into the driver’s seat and made a big show of adjusting just about everything he could think of.

“Damn, Elain, you’re short.”

“Vassa’s not the only one who can plot a murder you know,” she grumbled.

Not at all concerned by the mild threat, Lucien drove them the short distance to the small ice cream shop he’d mentioned. Two oversized cups later they were back sitting in the parking lot with the car heater running while they watched the traffic in the distance.

“Nesta’s going to kill me,” Elain mused as she tasted her helping of pecan praline. Which admittedly was the best she’d ever had.

“Just tell her it’s part of my famous magic act,” Lucien said, “the Now you see me, Now you don’t addition.”

Elain snorted. “Hm, I do always love a good disappearing act.”

“See? Magic’s not all bad.”

Elain shook her head, trying not to give him the satisfaction of a laugh. He must have sensed her straining efforts because he nudged her with his elbow.

“It’s alright admitting you were wrong, natural even.” He took a spoonful of his own ice cream--rocky road—and nodded to her. “Though, perfectionist that you are, I know how hard that is for you.”

“I’m not a perfectionist!”

“Several hours’ worth of arguing in study rooms suggest otherwise.”

“Saying you’re going to wing it on an assignment worth thirty percent or our grade is irresponsible and ridiculous,” she told him. A few of their shared assignments had been rather difficult to get through considering both of their different study approaches.

“I still scored as well as you did,” he reminded her.

Rolling her eyes, Elain ate more ice cream. “But you never hated me?”

The words from earlier still lingered in the back of her mind and with everything else that had happened that night, she hadn’t really been able to puzzle them out.

“No,” Lucien said, “you were never someone I could hate.”

Elain watched him for a moment, considering her words. She’d never really imagined herself here, eating ice cream while dressed in formal wear with someone she’d once rivaled with. Someone she hadn’t seen completely.

“I know nothing about basketball,” she informed him, “so that game you’re planning on taking me to could turn into a disaster. You’ll have to keep me well stocked with garlic fries and lemonade.”

“Whatever you say, Elain.”

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

Thanks for reading y’all I hope you enjoyed it! I have the vaguest of vague ideas for a nessian spin off, but who knows… anyways, love y’all and Merry Christmas <3

Tumblr is still throwing fits about my tag lists and I can’t do an extended tag list of people. So, if you’d reblog I would really appreciate it!

#elucien #elain x lucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #acotar gift exchange #acotar fic #fanfiction #acotar fanfic

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dreamlandreader · 9 months

Text

Foolish Fire

Chapter One: Little Lights

Merry Christmas! I’m here to deliver one freshly baked fic for the incredibly lovely and wonderfully talented @popjunkie42-blog for the @acotargiftexchange 🫱🏻🎁 Surprise! I’m your Secret Santa! ♥️ I’ve loved chatting with you over the past couple of months! I hope you love this fic as much as I’ve loved every minute of writing it.

Click HERE if you would prefer to read on AO3 Content warnings - Suggestive conversations, bad language and public displays of fae affection 🔥

Word Count - 3201 Words

“Absolutely not, Feyre. No way. Not a chance!” Rhysand insisted for the third time in less than an hour. He may love his mate to the end of his existence and beyond, but his patience was becoming increasingly limited.

It didn’t help Feyre’s case that she was attempting to have this rather alarming conversation whilst Rhys was turning his office upside down, trying to locate an important document that had escaped his attention.

“Why not?” Feyre begged, bouncing her son energetically on her hip and following Rhys across the room as he frantically searched through his neatly arranged files, papers flying everywhere.

“I am not spending a weekend in the woods with half our inner circle, a toddler, and Lucien freaking Vanserra!” Rhys huffed.

“Okay, first of all, it’s not half the inner circle; it’s my sisters and their mates - one of whom happens to be your brother!” Feyre stated plainly, rolling her eyes at her mate’s usual dramatics. “Secondly, I thought you and Lucien were okay now?”

“Well, yes, okay to share dinner and a drink with, not to huddle around a campfire, darling”, he groaned.

“Daddy’s grumpy,” Nyx said to Feyre, hiding a giggle behind his tiny hands. Rhys stuck his tongue out to his son, of course, he would take his mother’s side. The cheeky baby just blew a raspberry back in response.

“I really think this could be good for us, Rhys,” Feyre tried again, ignoring her two boys’ antics and glancing over at her mate’s desk. “I love our lives, and the responsibility we have for this court, but even the High Lord and Lady need a break from time to time. We’ve barely seen each other the past few weeks,”

Feeling the twinges of guilt starting to gnaw at his gut, Rhys looked from his son to his wife just in time to see her pull the exact paper he needed from his desk with knowing eyes. He supposed he had been overdoing it a little the last month or so. Sighing, he reached for the paper with one hand and hooked an arm around Feyre’s waist with the other.

“I know things have been busy at the moment, but once this treaty is drafted and we’ve managed to convince everyone to sign it, then I’m all yours again, darling,”

“You need a break, Rhys,” Feyre sighed.

“When I do eventually go back to it, I’m able to see exactly what I need to do to make it work better,” Feyre said gently, looking at Rhys with such care and warmth in her eyes. “Clearly, all this extra work has your head muddled if you couldn’t find a paper right there on your desk. Give yourself a break, and come back with fresh eyes. The treaty will be all the better for it.”

“And what about Nyx? We can’t take him off into the woods. He’s too young,” Rhys replied, stroking his son’s cheek as he looked at his father with such innocent and loving eyes.

“Mor said she will happily babysit for a couple of days,”

“Aunty Mor! Aunty Mor!” Nyx squealed, clapping his pudgy hands together in excitement.

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you, baby? A whole weekend with Aunty Morrigan,” Feyre said to her son, tickling his round tummy.

Rhysand walked over to his plush velvet couch and flopped down theatrically.

“But why can’t we just throw him an obnoxiously large party like a normal Fae male. Why does it have to be in a forest?”

“Because Elain wanted to plan something special for the first birthday he’ll celebrate as part of a mated couple. She knows he loves the outdoors and thought it would be a great opportunity for us all to go on a family trip. Please, Rhys! Do it for me!”

“Oh, for caldron’s sake! Fine. But I’m not sharing a tent with Cass, no matter how much he begs!” Rhys insisted, giving his mate the most adorable of pouts.

Two weeks later, with a backpack full of supplies and her mate in tow, Feyre sludged through the thick mud and jumped over the tree roots which lay intertwined on the forest floor. Rhysand followed behind her, much less enthusiastically clambering through the woods, a solemn look upon his face, as his wife continued to drag him by the hand, and they fell behind the rest of their group.

Lucien and Elain were bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, leading the group with an impressive energy that Rhys believed could only be explained by their newly formed bond. No one could possibly be that excited to trudge through the woods, he thought. Bouncing along the woodland route, Lucien had not stopped talking for the five hours they’d been walking. Elain was practically skipping alongside him, giving him her most rapt attention.

In typical fashion, Cassian and Nesta, who lingered in the middle of the pack, had spent the day jumping between arguing uncontrollably and restraining themselves from ripping each other’s clothes off. Rhys swore to himself on hour three that if he caught one more scent of their arousal upon the wind, he would winnow himself and Feyre right back home, damn the consequences.

Elain had chosen the Erebus forest on the border between the courts of Night and Day because it was known for its beautiful pathways and glittering lakes. The trees were still lush with leaves despite the autumn days creeping in, leaving the landscape rich with burnished gold, deep russet and warm copper foliage. The most extensive woodland in the entirety of the Night Court, the Erebus forest was the centre of a vast amount of local folklore, much of which Rhysand had been told by his mother in childhood. Tales of devious tricksters and terrifying beasts that prowled the woods were passed down through generations of Night Court young. As the High Lord over this territory, though, Rhysand had never found evidence to suggest that these stories were anything more than myths which warned children against getting lost in such a dense forest.

Rhysand’s poor mood was punctuated by the slow and steady drip drip drip of rain. “I knew this was a terrible idea,” Rhys mumbled, slicking his damp hair out of his eyes.

“Rhysand!” Feyre exclaimed, stopping dead in her tracks with a venomous look in her eyes and raindrops dripping off the end of her nose. “You survived the blood rite, have fought in some of the deadliest battles in Prythian’s history, and have literally been brought back from death, yet a bit of rain is sending you over the edge?”

Rhysand looked at his muddy feet, raindrops dripping from his eyelashes in shame. He may be hating every moment of this trip, but he could not stand the thought of letting his wife down.

“I didn’t have a choice with those things. I did them to survive. This is supposed to be … fun,” he grimaced, shivering on the spot. “Why can’t we just winnow to a camping spot?”

“You know why. Lucien and Elain have asked we do everything authentically. No magic.”

“Urgh,” he groaned like a petulant child.

“Rhys, I love you so much, but I need you to stop whining! You’re driving me mad,” Feyre begged, feeling dangerously close to the end of her tether.

“Hey, I think this would be a good place to stop and set up camp,” Lucien shouted, interrupting Feyre’s tense glare. Replacing her frown with a smile, she once again grabbed Rhysand’s hand and dragged him along.

It took Rhys and Feyre roughly forty minutes to pitch their tent. Twice as long as Cassian and Nesta, who, after high-fiving and giving one another a delighted grin, sat back and critiqued everyone else’s technique.

The copse of trees under which they set up camp didn’t do much to shield them from the rain that was teaming down in buckets. Still, once the storm began to subside and a fire was built, they could at least start warming themselves.

Rhysand had decided for his mate, and his mate alone, he would try to seem more enthusiastic. So when Lucien suggested he could teach the other two males how to catch fish from a nearby river with their bare hands, Rhys was the first to roll up his sleeves and jump in the freezing water.

Feyre and her sisters, who chose to watch in amusement from the edge of the water, did not even attempt to stifle their laughter. After all, you rarely get front-row seats to watch the High Lord of the Night Court and his general splash around aggressively in water to bolster their male pride.

Lucien was successful in his endeavour and caught a good amount of sizeable fish, which would easily fill the bellies of the entire group. Cassian and Rhys, however, were slightly less successful. Cassian had managed to catch a fish, but it was barely as big as his thumb. Rhys, on the other hand, had caught everything but a fish. An old boot, several empty bottles of fae wine and numerous twigs now lined the bank of the river and stared mockingly at Rhysand, who was beginning to doubt his own skills.

Feyre was right. He had survived much worse conditions than this, he’d even been through much more severe forms of camping than this. During the blood rite, he had been separated from his brothers and had to fight his way back to them, all whilst trying to keep himself alive in the process. He hadn’t thought twice about it back then. He was getting too comfortable with his life in Velaris. Getting used to the calm of a post-war Prythian. Yes, he and his mate had piles of work to keep them busy, treaties to sign, and alliances to make, but all in all, they were in an excellent position, a period of great contentment. That thought made Rhysand’s stomach squeeze. He should not, could not, let himself get complacent.

From then on, Rhysand decided to utilise this trip as an opportunity to re-engage with his survival instincts. Perhaps he could even learn a trick or two from his Autumn Court companion. He would never admit it to Lucien, but some sly observation of his obvious skills would harm no one. And, if his active participation in the group kept his mate happy, then Rhys was even more convinced to oblige.

With his newfound vigour, Rhysand pulled Feyre into his lap whilst dinner was roasted over the campfire. Her suspicions about her mate's sudden change of heart soon disappeared as the fae wine that Elain had snuck into her travel sack began to flow, and laughter echoed around the campsite.

A few hours later, giddy from the wine and encouraged by the slowly setting sun, Rhysand dipped his head into the crook of his mate's neck and began to plant gentle kisses against her soft skin. Within seconds, Feyre turned in his lap, eyes alight with craving, and her lips pressed against his own. His hands slid down her spine and cupped her backside as he let out a low groan.

Just as Rhys slipped his tongue between Feyre's parted lips, the lovers were jerked harshly back into reality by an unamused Nesta.

“For the love of the mother, please stop before I puke up the remains of dinner,” Nesta drawled, giving her sister a pointed look.

“Oh come on, Nesta, as though you and Cass haven’t been giving each other sex eyes all night,” Feyre laughed, as Cassian shrugged in agreement, and Nesta elbowed him in the side.

“At least we are holding back until we get to the tent,” Nesta retorted, raising one eyebrow in a blatant challenge.

Although the sisters were debating who the horniest couple was, there was none of the bitterness that used to linger between them. Since Nyx’s birth, Feyre and Nesta had worked on repairing the fractured parts of their relationship, and though things had been tentative for a while, this sisterly teasing was a clear step in the right direction.

Rhysand’s heart swelled for his mate. He knew just how much this newly developing relationship meant to her, and from the warm smile radiating from his brother, he could tell it meant a lot to Nesta, too.

“All that steamy smut you read and your sister sharing one kiss with her mate is sending you over the edge?” Feyre retorted, a quizzical grin brightening her beautiful face.

“That smut doesn’t require me to watch my sister getting her ass squeezed!” Nesta huffed, amusement sparkling in her eyes.

“Pfft, as if Elain and I aren’t painfully aware that you and Cassian have fucked on every available surface in the House of Wind,”

An awkward cough interrupted the quick retort that was teetering on the edge of Nesta’s lips, and all eyes swung to Cassian, who was rubbing the back of his neck in evident discomfort.

“I hate to break it to you ladies,” Cassian said, low and quiet, as though he was revealing his most precious of secrets. “But I don’t think either of you is the Archeron sister that needs worrying about!”

Nesta and Feyre, along with their mates, all readjusted their gazes towards Elain, who was sat in her mate’s lap, sharing kisses and sensually moving her fully clothed hips against his. She was blissfully ignorant to her sister’s shock as Lucien’s hands slid up both sides of her dress, and she threw back her head in pleasure, allowing him to kiss down her exposed neck towards her chest.

“Oh gods, that’s enough socialising for today. I’m going to bed!” Nesta cried, almost tripping over herself in an effort to unsee what was now burned deeply into her mind.

“Yeah, good plan. Great plan!” Feyre squeaked, cheeks getting hotter by the second, as her desire to winnow away as far as possible grew exponentially.

Rhysand had to laugh as his mate clumsily hurried away towards the tent. What did she expect going away with a freshly mated couple? Even if the initial frenzy had eased off, the first year of a new bond was filled with passion and numerous instances where all rational thought went out of the window. Even now, three years after his own mating bond was cemented, Feyre and Rhys often struggled to resist each other.

Catching up to Feyre, Rhys wrapped his arms around his mate's middle and tucked his head into her neck, nipping at her earlobe.

“I didn’t know you were so easy to make blush, my love,” Rhys chuckled in her ear.

“I didn’t expect to see my sister dry-humping her mate tonight, that’s all,” Feyre replied, laughing too.

"Let's go for a walk, Darling," Rhys purred.

Feyre turned in his arms, a sly grin on her face as she clasped Rhysand's hand in her own, and together, they wandered deeper into the woods, away from the prying ears of their fae brethren.

Breathless from excitement, Rhys twirled his mate towards him, picked her up and pushed her against a nearby tree. As their lips met, teeth clashing in their eagerness, Feyre scraped her nails against Rhysand’s scalp in the way she knew always made the male shiver with anticipation.

Rhys nipped and sucked at Feyre’s lower lip, sliding his hands under her thick jumper and lazily working them up her body. Tracing the bottom of her lacy bra around to the back, Rhys was moments away from undoing the clasp when a sharp sound perforated the heated silence of the woods.

The snap of the twig had the lovers on instant high alert. Rhys tried to reassure himself that perhaps it was just one of the other couples from their party, who, like Feyre and himself, felt like a midnight tryst under the stars. But then, in the distance, a soft flickering light melted through the frigid black of night.

“What is that?” Feyre faltered, peering around her mate’s shoulder to better see the potential danger ahead.

"I don't know, but it's coming this way. Perhaps it's time to leave." Rhys replied, gripping Feyre's waist more firmly but lowering her to the ground to give her the chance to run if needed.

As the light drew ever closer, it became apparent that the source of light did not come from the lamp of another weary traveller or even as the result of a predator out in the dead of night ready to catch some unsuspecting prey. Instead, it appeared that the glow was produced by a small, illuminated, floating creature.

"Fireflies?" Feyre asked, squinting into the distance. The couple's fae hearing picked up the sound of tiny wings fluttering against the brisk autumn air as the light danced closer.

"No, they look like-"

"Butterflies!" Feyre gasped as dozens of dazzling butterflies swirled around them like autumn leaves on the breeze, leaving a gleaming trail in the path behind them.

Feyre reached out a hand and let out a small laugh as one of the creatures landed on her index finger, its magic bouncing off her own, sending a warm tingle throughout her body.

Then, as quickly as the golden butterflies appeared, they began to drift off and were, one by one, swallowed by the shadows. Only the gentle butterfly on Feyre's hand remained, casting a glow that lit her face with wonder.

Slowly taking flight, the beautiful creature seemed to beckon Feyre to follow it deeper into the woods. Feyre felt in her very soul that it was of the utmost importance that she went with it, and she shared this thought with her mate. Rhysand, however, was uncertain. He scoured his memory for any recollection of a creature quite like this, with luminous wings and a beckoning pull, but he came up short. The only tale he could remember was of the Will-o'-the-wisp, tricky little beasts who masqueraded as distant lamp lights, only to deceive weary travellers into getting lost, often leading them into mortal danger, delivering them to foul monsters who would gladly tear them apart. But, in all the stories he had heard of these characters, they had never taken the form of such placid creatures.

"Come on," Feyre beamed, striding forward, sparkling eyes wide.

"Feyre no!" Rhys replied, reaching a hand out towards her, but he merely blinked, and his mate had disappeared into the inky night.

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theladyofbloodshed · 2 years

Text

A Court of Tangled Flames - Chapter 21

(TW: Although they (finally) bang, there are scenes of abuse towards Eris/his mother/an animal so please be mindful of this and avoid if it if you need to).

p.s. Merry Christmas

The glorious morning lasted all of one hour before a deluge of rain met them. Thick grey clouds blanketed the Autumn Court. No matter what village they went to, they received a soaking. The residents were good enough to invite them into lofty halls or warm temples but Nesta’s stockings clung to her damp feet. Eris had kept a canopy of fire blazing above their head which competed against the rain. On the whole, it had kept her dry until the rain decided it would fall sideways in a mist that could only be stopped if Eris encased them both entirely in flame.

The actual day was as exciting as Eris promised it would be. She was overrun with new faces and names, questions about the state of the court and relations with their neighbouring courts, demands to know if there would be tax increases or decreases with the turn of the year. Eris was steadfast through it all, giving enough truth to keep them subdued, but Nesta was woefully out of depth in terms of the politics of running a court. She made a silent vow to double down on her studies with Maceo – and to take a keener interest in Eris’ reign. After all, she planned to be beside him.

When they arrived back to the Forest House, Nesta was chilled to the bone. Eris had forgone drying himself off, preferring to help her undress and wrap her in a soft gown while her body warmed up. His fire blazed. It seemed out of control from the size of it, but Nesta knew his restraint with magic had an accuracy she’d not seen before. He was merely blasting it to near-inferno levels in the hearth to heat the room quicker.

The male was half-way out of his own soaked shirt when a sharp rap at the door came. Whoever it was knew better than to dare walk in.

She remained in the bedroom with the door slightly ajar, listening in on the conversation.

The low, rough tones of Phelan’s voice could be heard followed by a male’s voice that she didn’t know.

Eris closed the door with a firm hand then returned to the bedroom. ‘I have to go.’

‘What is it? Something bad?’

There was a gravity to his expression that made Nesta’s stomach tie itself in knots. Noticing the fall of her own face, Eris cradled his hand against her cheek. ‘It’s alright. My father has summoned all of us to the border. A skirmish with Spring.’

‘What if you’re hurt?’

‘Then you can tend to my wounds like a doting wife and kiss them better.’ Eris pressed his lips against her temple, soft enough to make her heart flutter. ‘I’ll be back before morning. Make sure you eat dinner.’ For a moment, Eris stopped as if contemplating something then he pulled on a plain, dark tunic. ‘With all of the Vanserra males gone, you can walk the Forest House freely if you wish. I know one female here who would be glad of company.’

The offer was laid out for her with no pressure to take it. A thoughtful suggestion from a male who measured every decision in his life.

‘See you later.’

‘Stay safe. Don’t lose any important limbs.’

Unable to leave her without another goodbye, Eris wrapped Nesta into his arms, squeezing her tight enough to shoot the air out of her chest. ‘Dinner. Don’t forget.’

Nesta imagined them setting out on horseback, charging through the forest, armour gleaming against the streaking rain like the horsemen of the Wild Hunt, summoned by Beron – a call none could refuse.

Worry churned her gut like an unwanted gift. Eris was the general of the army. The male had fought in the last war – and likely had fought many battles. But he was her husband now. Her life was tied to his so whatever storm Eris sailed through, Nesta followed. That was the vow they had made to each other before the Mother.

When her stress drove her to agitation, Nesta left the walls of their rooms to seek out her mother-in-law. Nesta had never been a shy and retiring flower prone to pussyfooting around. She sought out the nearest servant who jolted at her approach and demanded to know Eliška’s location. The brittleness of her tone all stemmed from worry for Eris. She didn’t trust his brothers for one moment, much less his father.

With only her guards for company, the Lady of the Autumn Court tended to an orchid. Against the backdrop of a darkened forest with the soft tap-tapping of the rain upon the glass, she was positively bewitching. Her gown – the colour of blood – swept behind her. Gold was threaded into her thick, dark hair that tumbled down her spine. As she moved amongst the raised beds, single twisting flames followed like lanterns to illuminate her way. Her power was special. Almost absent thought, more flames drifted from her hands to replace the ones that had had extinguished on their ascent towards the roof.

‘Are you well, Nesta?’ She asked, turning on the spot to meet her gaze.

In the absence of her husband – and sons – her shoulders had loosened. The rigid mask she wore had slipped into a softer one, more at ease in herself.

‘I wondered if we could dine together.’

Nesta trailed her, the queen without a crown, as she led the way to her private rooms. It was intimidating to enter the room where Beron slept. She couldn't imagine the high lord doing anything as vulnerable as sleeping yet even monsters had to rest, she supposed.

Once the food was placed on the small table beside the window, her mother-in-law shooed away the servants and sentries, despite warnings from sentries not to be alone with Nesta. The accusation stung. She was not callous enough to marry Eris then wheedle her way into the Autumn Court with the sole purpose of killing its lady. Though complacency, she supposed, got you killed.

‘I do not know what you enjoy so I apologise if it does not suit you.’

Nesta stared down at the chicken breast stuffed with asparagus and cheese on a bed of crunchy salad leaves. It was a fine meal. She reflected on her life in the cabin where they’d resorted to eating stringy bits of squirrel and rabbit boiled into a broth. They had days where they added more and more water to stretch it a bit further.

‘It is delicious, thank you.’

The expanse between them went on and on. What could she say to a female who had suffered so much? There was no hope that Nesta could offer to her. No promise of a good future. Beyond that, Nesta had little experience interacting with ruling monarchs beyond snapping at the mortal queens in her home. Since the day Tamlin had broken down their door, life had felt make-believe. There were days where Nesta still got a shock when she saw her pointed ears in the mirror, days she thought she would wake up clinging to the edge of a lumpy mattress with Elain and Feyre for company. Her life shouldn’t have included speaking with fae nobility.

‘I daresay these last couple of years have brought about a lot of change for you, Nesta. And not all of it welcome.’

A lump wedged itself in her throat.

‘I was twenty-one when the Forest House became my home. After all the time that has passed since then, I still miss my sisters and long for our home in the mountains.’

‘Do your sisters visit?’

Eliška’s russet eyes flickered towards the dense canopy outside. ‘No. They no longer walk this land.’ She gave a sorry smile to Nesta then inclined her head. ‘I was the eldest of three too. There are heavy burdens placed on the shoulders of an elder daughter.’

From that beginning, their conversation opened up like the first sunrise after a cruel winter that thawed out the earth. Long after their dinner had been eaten, the two of them continued talking. She shared stories of her life, ashamed still of the humble middle years in a cabin though it had been through no fault of her own. Nesta was never pushed to talk of the Cauldron, but she did so anyway because she needed somebody soft to listen, somebody who would sympathise and not cast judgement. Her mother-in-law took her hand, listening in keenly with tears welling in her russet eyes.

They even spoke of Lucien and Elain.

Nesta got the sense that to speak of her youngest caused unseen wounds yet Eliška was powerless to not think of him. Lucien was her son, a son she missed terribly. Nesta tried not to cloud her judgement of Elain. They had both suffered together, but when Elain had began to flourish once more in the Night Court, that was when Nesta had wilted.

‘How do you do it?’ She wondered, hand stroking the soft head of the hound who had settled on her lap. ‘Eris has been gone for a couple of hours and I’m frozen with fear about his safety.’

‘It never gets easier. And when you have lost sons…’ Her voice trailed away. ‘I never know if they’ll all come home.’

‘What was Eris like when he was small? Five hundred years is still incomprehensible to me.’

The lady of the court pondered the question for a while, her lips slightly parted. ‘A shy child. His confidence is a learned method. He was always quiet, very studious. He loved animals. I’d often find him out in the forest with a frog in his hand or he was always in the stables with the horses. We caught him once with a clutch of eggs in his room. The nest had fallen from a tree. He was trying to incubate the eggs. Eris couldn’t bear the thought of them dying.’

Nesta tried to imagine a younger version of him, but it was difficult to imagine him as anything more than the self-assured male whose confidence could come across as arrogance.

Against her temples, she could feel a pressure. Not a pain, but a feeling that shouldn’t have been there like food trapped between teeth that demanded to be noticed.

Let me in, Nesta. Let me show you.

It was her mother-in-law’s voice, brushing against her mind. A gentle caress that lent itself as an invitation. She was a daemati. Did Eris know?

Then Nesta was in the same room as she’d previously been sat in but the sun streamed in through the open windows. She was seeing it from Eliška’s eyes, many years earlier.

A small, red head nestled against a rounded stomach as Eliška leant back on a velvet couch. He’d wedged himself in against the back, bare toes wiggling as they hung off the end. A child’s hand lay on her stomach then the head shot up, shock and awe brightening his amber eyes.

‘I felt it!’

‘There. You just needed to be patient.’

Eris pressed his ear back against his mother’s belly, listening in keenly for another sign of the babe within her womb. ‘I hope she’s a girl,’ Eris whispered.

‘Your father would like another son.’

He couldn’t have been more than seven, but Nesta caught the worry seizing his expression. Another son meant a spare for the heir. It rendered Eris disposable. His mother stroked her hand through his untidy, red hair.

‘Come now. You know you will always be my first born. You have always taken up the most room in my heart. You will have my heart for the longest.’

The scene shifted and Nesta felt as if a hook had pierced itself through her stomach.

Eliška hurried down a set of stone steps that she recognised as the entrance to the Forest House. Her feet scurried over the hard ground.

Eris was older, but not by much. He lay on his back, mud and blood streaking his face. Tears tracked through the grime. Red hair fell to his chin in messy waves. The boiled leather he wore was polished until it shined.

The master-at-arms loomed over him with a wooden sword in his hand. The man was colossal – as big as Cassian; the sword could have been made of a cloud and he’s still have caused damage with it.

‘Up,’ Beron barked from his post at the edge of the ring.

By some miracle, Eris forced himself to rise on shaking legs.

It didn’t take long until the elder male had smacked him back against the ground despite Eris’ efforts to defend himself.

‘Stop this nonsense,’ Eliška cried. Nesta had never heard her voice with such an authority ringing out in it. More than authority, there was fury there too.

She bypassed her husband, bypassed the sentries watching, and went straight to her son. Eris sobbed in her arms. Just a small boy who needed his mother.

‘Get away from him,’ Beron snarled.

Nesta couldn’t believe he would dare, but the high lord wrenched back his wife by the shoulder. She lost her balance and staggered onto her backside into the mud. Thank the Mother that her second child must have already been delivered. The lady of the court was still young herself, barely older than Nesta. The court sat on the cusp of war with Hybern and she had two young children to protect.

‘Don’t hurt her!’ Eris barely had a chance to get his words out, leaping to his mother’s defence, before Beron had pushed him away with the command not speak to him. He hit the floor hard, splitting open his lip.

‘He must learn, as I learned, as my father learned – as every male in the Vanserra line learned.’ Beron was younger. The cruel lines of his face were less pronounced, but there was no mistaking the malice in his eyes towards his wife for daring to go against his order in public. Was this the first time he had placed a hand on her?

‘To what end, Beron? You will break him. He is our son.’ She clutched his hands, imploring her husband to see reason. That would have required Beron having any sort of morality.

His top lip curled. Over her shoulder, he called to a sentry, ‘fetch his pup.’

Eris hadn’t protested. His eyes had merely gone wide, face as pale as death as he waited. Even the lady of the court had fallen silent in disbelief.

When the sentry returned, he held a small, grey smokehound pup by the scruff of its neck out to Beron.

‘Don’t do this to him.’

‘He’s weak,’ Beron spat. ‘Too much time spent in his mother’s skirts than learning how to be a male.’ Beron pressed the dog into Eris’ trembling hands. ‘Kill it. Take the knife and kill it.’

When Eris still hadn’t reached out for his father’s knife, Beron forced it into his hand. Still, he did not move. The puppy squirmed in his grip. Nesta could feel her own heart breaking as he murmured softly to the dog despite his father’s insults that he was a failure of a son and the ruin of the Vanserra line.

When the high lord realised this method was futile, he struck his wife hard across the face.

She landed again on the ground. The servants knew better than to rush to her.

‘Each time you disobey me, your mother will feel the brunt of it. Is that what you want?’

A cold sensation slithered down Nesta’s spine. She found herself back at the table. Her mother-in-law was unable to look at her. Nesta couldn’t hold her gaze either. The dog in her lap gave a wag of its tail to encourage her to stroke him again.

Finally, she asked, ‘Did Eris kill his dog?’

‘No. He threw the knife at his father instead – and got the beating of his life for it. Beron nearly killed him. But the dog was forgotten about. I think that was all that mattered to Eris.’

‘And you,’ she said. ‘You mean the world to him. You have no idea how much it hurts him that you must endure Ber-’

Eliška’s hand settled on hers. ‘Even the walls have ears in this room.’

***

Although Eris’ plan of causing a fray on the border had served its purpose of reigniting the spark within the high lord of the Spring Court, he could have done without being drawn into the fight. More troops – rogue ones, Uther claimed – had snuck over the border and set up camp along the coast.

Not just Tamlin, but lone males from the Spring Court had bandied together to drive the soldiers back into the Autumn Court. The fracas would ensure that Tamlin kept a better watch on the east. With his paranoia, the right word could also ensure he kept a guard on the west towards Hybern too. There needed to be eyes on the oceans towards Hybern and the Continent to ensure no ships made port at Prythian. It was common knowledge now that Nesta resided in the Autumn Court. No army would be foolish enough to cut through the Winter Court because the conditions rendered it too difficult to cross. Autumn protected its borders too thoroughly to allow an attack. Spring was the weak point. Eris would be damned if he was complacent with his wife’s safety.

The female in question had waited up for him. Instead of drowsiness, she sat upright examining tax ledgers, her grey eyes still alert. At his arrival through the door, she’d leapt from the chair to embrace him.

‘I’m filthy,’ he protested, as her slender arms wrapped around his neck. It was true. Mud and blood splattered him. Tamlin had not caused severe injury to most of the soldiers, but Beron instructed to have them all slaughtered for their insubordination. It was his own people’s blood that stained his skin.

‘I don’t care.’

Nesta’s words came out choked.

He prised her away from him to look at her. ‘Why are you crying? What’s happened? Nesta, tell me what’s happened.’

She pressed her forehead to his, kissing him once. ‘Are you hurt?’

‘Nesta, are you hurt? You must tell me if something has happened.’

Nesta swallowed. Tears still rimmed her eyes, but she shook her head. ‘I was so worried about you.’

Despite his protests that it was far too late and she should sleep, Nesta insisted on drawing him a bath – then helping him to wash too. If it was a punishment for coming home late, it was a rather good one.

There was something on her mind still, Eris could tell – but he knew better than to push her. Pushing Nesta only resulted in her drawing back. Instead, Eris enjoyed the careful way she cleaned his skin. Nesta took her time to brush a flannel against the few scratches he’d gained, eyes lingering on each one.

‘Why don’t you train daily?’

He glanced down at the bruise on his thigh that had turned a lovely shade of violet. It would be gone by the afternoon. ‘Are you seeing my bruises and suggesting I need to increase my training?’

A bubble was flicked in his face. ‘I meant that Azriel and Cassian,’ she said the latter’s name quietly, as if it was a curse to speak it aloud, ‘train every single day.’

‘Illyrians have little else to do to occupy their time,’ he replied drily. ‘I am five centuries old. I have had enough practise with every weapon conceivable. Regular training at my age will not improve my skill in any way, shape, or form. Conversely, lack of training has little effect either.’ He ran a finger through the bubbles to part them. ‘In a battle, it is less about skill or ability. It’s more stamina and recklessness.’

‘Do you like training?’

The question caught him off-guard. Nesta had never shown much of an interest in his abilities as a fighter. Perhaps she thought he was on the losing side tonight by the marks on his body.

‘Not particularly. I think it’s an excuse for the worst sort of males to bully others. I like being with the army though. There’s a camaraderie there that’s special. To be willing to bleed for each other, to die so another can live, it cannot be replicated – except maybe by the heart.’

Nesta leant an arm along the side of the tub then rested her head on it. It was easy to imagine a future with her – a future that was calm and steady where they could set down roots and grow together.

‘Do you think I should beat more males into the ground, my love?’

‘Definitely not.’

‘Good. I’d rather use magic than weapons,’ he said, shooting an arrow of flame through another clump of bubbles.

From a jug, Nesta poured water through his hair, washing out the suds. She was gentle with her care, but her silence was unnerving him. Her fingers traced each scar on his back, following the track of the white scar tissue from root to tip then she massaged the tight muscles of his shoulders, drawing out a long groan from him.

‘Did you have dinner, Nesta?’

‘Yes. With your mother.’

Oh. That could be the cause of the melancholy. Perhaps Nesta lamented her own life. Did she wonder if she’d end up like this lady of the court? A prisoner within the walls of the Forest House.

Nesta tilted her face towards his. In a whisper, she said, ‘She’s a daemati.’

The blood in his veins ran cold. How could his mother tell another? This was a secret she’d kept for centuries. ‘She told you? You must never tell anyone. Never, Nesta. We are the only ones who knows. Not even Lucien knows. If my father knew, she’d be a weapon - or worse, he’d end her.’

Although Nesta gripped his hands tightly, her face was fracturing.

‘What is it? What did she show you?’

‘I don’t want to be in this house tonight.’

So, they left.

Not even properly dressed, Eris rushed Nesta from the Forest House. He was driven by the need to protect her. There wasn’t a physical threat, just an emotional upheaval that had made the Forest House inhospitable to her that night. He’d change the world for her, if she asked.

They had barely passed a few steps into the house when Nesta was upon him. Her arms wrapped around his body with an intensity he hadn’t known before. The embrace was tight. She pushed her face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in deeply.

Eris lifted her, coaxing her legs to wrap around his hips to hold her better as he carried his wife up the stairs to the bedroom. It was very late, the paling moon hidden behind rain clouds.

His plans to tuck Nesta beneath the quilt to sleep were forgotten as she turned his face to hers. Soft lips met his, kissing once, twice, three times until the delicacy shifted to fervour. They broke apart momentarily for the nightgown to be lifted over Nesta’s head. Her fingers worked independently, tugging off his hastily-buttoned shirt to expose his own body. The softness of her breasts pushed against his chest and the tether snapped within Eris.

Nesta was laid out on the bed. The glow of the fire bathed her in gold. There was none more magnificent, more utterly devastating than Nesta.

Eris trailed his hand over the curve of her ribs then against her breast, savouring how soft it was in his hand – how it bounced as he spiralled a finger towards her peaked nipple.

From the pillows, Nesta smiled to him, eyes heavy-lidded like a cat. ‘Don’t be a tease, Eris.’

The heart in his chest beat louder than a drum as he shed the last of his clothes. Nesta had seen him naked plenty of times, yet they were moving to a new realm now. The consummation of a marriage that had bloomed from nowhere, a fortunate stroke of serendipity that had changed the trajectory of both of their lives.

His throat was dry as Eris positioned himself on top of Nesta’s body. If she caught the quake of his hand, she didn’t say anything, merely guided him towards her entrance and raised her hips to meet him.

It was special.

A gasp caught in his throat as the head of his cock pressed inside, passing through the wetness gathered. The warmth and softness nearly undid him. Adrenaline had his pulse spiking as Nesta’s fingers dug into the muscles of his back.

Eris touched his forehead to Nesta’s. He kept his arms cradling her, kissing her between their soft moans – sometimes catching one on his lips.

With every thrust, Eris felt as if he was travelling up river coming to the edge of a waterfall. He knew he’d get there quicker the more he moved inside Nesta, but he fought against it. He tried to hold back, but against the sensations of his wife’s body – the bounce of her breasts, the tingling feel of her fingers gripping his hair – he was powerless.

When Eris reached the edge, ready to tip, he felt as if he’d found a missing part of himself. He’d found an equal in Nesta. An equal who he never wanted to be without.

As he came, Eris held Nesta down against the mattress. His body pressed to hers, lips tasting hers. Every part of him wanted her.

Her touch was a summons that could rise him from the grave. Each soft kiss gave Eris something to believe in. Their joining felt as if it had been carved in the stars by the Mother herself, this moment crafted from the hands of a Goddess.

That was what Nesta was. A Goddess who blessed the land she walked on. A female who the ocean and the darkness bowed to.

She was everything.

***

Each touch from Eris had been reverent, soft and almost trembling as though he found her to be a delicate flower that needed caresses to coax her to grow rather than hard words and rough actions. Nesta had to be close to him. The burning need threatened to devour her as she pressed her hot, sweating skin to him. He was like a furnace, but she craved that closeness. She had never needed that before. Never needed more than a release without even a goodbye. She didn’t want Eris to leave her, to leave the bed, and return when he wanted her body again.

Eris cradled her to him, a hand curling against her head to caress her hair.

Words built inside of her – not the cruel, spiked things that often forced their way from her tongue, but soft, hesitant ones that begged to her to find the courage to let them into the world.

It was terrifying and new and overwhelming. Yet those words were true and she wanted so badly to try and let them go despite the risk like a bird letting its babies try and fly the nest. It was a vulnerability that Nesta had never let herself be exposed to before. Keep the armour up, sharpen the spikes and make herself so unapproachable that nobody could ever break in.

But Eris had. Eris had seen her at her lowest and hadn’t seen a female that needed to be cured or fixed or made into a shape that suited everybody else. He’d just seen her. He hadn’t minded when her spikes pricked the skin or when she shut him out.

He was just Eris. Not the cruel heir she was led to believe he was. He was Eris, charming and delightful, intelligent and hard-working. He was her husband.

‘I love you.’

One beat of his heart passed. Then two. Then three.

‘I love you too, Nesta.’

How badly she had needed to hear that. It had come once, blurted out on the dancefloor, but it hadn’t felt the same as this. She burrowed closer to him, forehead pushing into his shoulder to try and touch every inch of skin she could.

‘I have a confession,’ he whispered.

Nesta took in his amber eyes, heavy with fatigue, the wayward hair that softened his usually razor-sharp features.

‘Do you remember when went to Altor Hay? We met Aurelia and you asked me how many ex-lovers were likely to confront you.’

Nesta reared back onto her elbows, lips pursing together. ‘Is this when you lead me to an execution to hide the evidence of taking a lover?’

He let out a lazy laugh but a faint blush stole across his cheeks. ‘No. There no ex-lovers who will confront you because there have never been any.’

For a long while, Nesta stared at him, trying to understand the fact that he’d laid out. The fact that had taken him a decent amount of time to admit to.

‘You were a maiden,’ she said softly.

That did make him laugh – a proper one where he tossed his auburn hair back against the wooden headboard. ‘I don’t think the same term applies for a male, Nesta. Traditionally, a maiden is required for a pampered little high lord’s son. I didn’t think it fair if I didn’t uphold that end of the deal too.’

‘But you’re five hundred years old.’

‘Sometimes it was difficult. Many females only want access to me for the step it can take them in life – power or jewels. Both if their fathers have their way. Honestly, there haven’t been many females who have turned my head. I’ve been too focused on survival to care for pretty dresses or fluttering eyelashes.’ He was unable to look at her fully. His usual confidence had shrunk and he twisted his long fingers around the pillow case. ‘I wanted to save myself for my wife.’

Nesta wasn’t quite sure what to say. His admission had stolen all of the air from her lungs. And yet it did all ring true. Since the ruined betrothal to Mor, Eris remained as an eligible bachelor but had not taken a wife or even hammered out another betrothal to form an alliance. There were no rumours of illegitimate heirs or females who had their reputation ruined by him. He was a catch. Even if the cruelty was real, he was the heir to the Autumn Court, by far the richest court in Prythian. Many fathers wouldn’t care what sort of male they shackled their daughters to as long as they benefitted in some way.

‘I feel guilty that I wasn’t what you wanted in a wife,’ she confessed, voice equally as small.

‘No, no,’ he said quickly, sweeping a thumb down her cheek. ‘Don’t be guilty that you’ve had a past. I couldn’t care less if you’ve bedded every male in Prythian as long as it’s only my bed that you’ll be in from now on. I want you. My wife, my partner, my friend.’

Nesta trailed her finger down his muscled stomach, admiring the way his skin shuddered from the sensation. ‘I didn’t rush you, did I?’

‘I wanted to for a long time. Trust me, I wanted to. I was worried it would be utterly horrendous for you and you’d think “what has this male done for five hundred years?”. Then more time was passing and I kept putting you off. I really made a mountain out of a molehill. I’m sorry.’

Seeing this male vulnerable made Nesta’s desire swell.

She straddled his waist, a triumphant smile seizing her. Her hands slipped into his then raised them either side of his head against the board.

‘I’m about to change your life, Eris Vanserra.’

Nesta peppered kisses across his mouth then along the keen edge of his jaw. The tip of her tongue traced his earlobe. At the warmth of her breath against his ear, Eris’ entire body twitched beneath her. She could feel his length hardening where she gently rocked her hips.

This was new and, by the Mother, it was exciting. There was a world of possibilities and Nesta planned to explore every single one.

Her lips continued working down his body. It was carved from stone, each muscle on gleaming display for her to admire. What a lucky female she was.

Nesta slipped off of his lap and settled on her knees between his legs on the mattress. In the quiet room with only the patter of rain against the roof to accompany them, Nesta swore she could hear the tremor of his heart.

She took the shaft in her hand to place a kiss upon the head of his cock.

Eris screwed up his face, already unravelling from the most fleeting of touches.

By the third kiss, his head was pressed into the headboard, a hand gripping the bedsheets.

Nesta took him in her mouth – fully ready for an early exit – but Eris held on.

Inch by inch, she took him further, encouraged by the ragged gasps coming from him.

A hand settled on his thigh to steady the jerk of his legs as she slowly flicked her tongue against the head then took him deep again. Nesta knew she was torturing him. She was deliberately going as slow as possible, to savour every second.

Eris was receptive to every stroke of her tongue, every pop of her lips as she released him for a brief moment. Lack of intimacy had made him sensitive, and Nesta was enjoying this.

His moans became strained in a short matter of time.

She pushed him too far, taking him to the back of her throat, and before he could warn her, she felt the hot spray of his cum on her tongue.

‘Sorry,’ he breathed, pulling her towards him.

‘Don’t be, I liked it.’

Eris’ jaw dropped. Nesta had to wave her hand in front of his face to ensure he was still functioning then he flopped against the pillows with a noise that she couldn’t decide was pain or pleasure.

He patted the spot beside himself then brought an arm around her when she settled.

‘We are not leaving this cottage for at least a month. Maybe two.’

‘I have a lot to show you,’ she mused. ‘Make it three months.’

@owllover123 @rarephloxes @fanboy7794 @sugardoll22 @kitkat-writes-stuff @this-is-rochelle @sv0430

#neris #eris vanserra #nesta archeron #nesta x eris

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separatist-apologist · 2 years

Note

Lucien and Elain from Don't Blame Me, do you think they would have 5 kids?

The way I have to keep looking up my own fics to see who you're talking about. After elucien week, lets all agree that I'm retiring, okay?

YEAH THEY DO. First of all, did he EVER use a condom? I don't think he did. Second of all, Elain wanted to be a housewife, wanted to be domestic. I think Lucien would have LOVED bringing her back to that chili cook-off just to rub her pregnant stomach in Graysen's ugly face

#oh wait #he lost didnt he?#oh well #maybe lucien puts out one family xmas card every year #and mails one to graysen specifically #so he can see all those pretty redhaired babies #merry christmas from the vanserras!

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the-lonelybarricade · 3 years

Text

You Would Be There, Too

Merry Christmas everyone!!

The first of (hopefully) three uploads today - an Elucien oneshot for those who are wondering where Elain is while her sisters are off making bargains.

Summary: Elain is alone for Christmas, but fortunately she has her longtime friend Lucien Vanserra to help her through the tough holiday.

words: 2,916

Holiday Masterlist ⟡ Read on AO3

Lucien and Elain had been inseparable friends since the first day of freshman year when some boy, either out of malice or incompetence, had spilled hot coffee all over the front of her blouse. She’d shrieked, mostly in surprise and pain, and the sound had caused such a scene that nearly every head in the cafeteria had turned to look at her.

Including that of Lucien Vansera.

While the reactions varied from snickering to murmurs of sympathy, there was only one person who got up from his seat, shrugged off his jacket, and offered it to her.

It’d been a gesture meaningful enough to solidify them at the hip for the remaining four years of high school and their adult lives that followed. When she’d had to move away from him to study botany halfway across the country, she’d been heartbroken.

But when her dad had passed away and left the house to Elain and her two sisters, Nesta wanted nothing to do with his will and Feyre already had a house with her boyfriend, so it was Elain who had moved back to deal with settling his estate and preparing the house for sale.

Lucien had been the one to help her through it. He’d helped her sort through her father’s belongings, doing the hard part for her of throwing out the things of little sentimental or monetary value. It was difficult, and she’d grieved her father and the life that had always seemed just out of reach for her family—one of happiness and unity. There was so much that was left unsaid, unresolved.

Somewhere in the cleaning and organizing, she’d decided against selling the house, decided that it deserved to be a place filled with love one day. Elain had pretended it was the photo albums of a happier time long past that had swayed her decision, but really it had more to do with the redhead who’d helped her sort through each tedious artifact, listening intently to every memory that surfaced as though they were more valuable than gold.

Of all the people in the world, it was always Lucien who made her words feel that way—valuable. She’d taken on the typical middle child role of keeping her head down and her mouth shut for a majority of her life, and even as an adult still struggled to break free of that mold when it came to communicating with her sisters. But with Lucien, it was never an issue. Sometimes she spoke, and he listened as though he’d never heard sound before, expression swept with something like awe, as though he were witnessing the miracle of existence through every word that tumbled from her lips. Elain couldn’t fathom that reaction, but she cherished it anyway.

And it was something about being around that again—around him—that convinced her to stay. She’d fix up the house, run a small florist shop out of it until she could save up money for a proper storefront, and eventually create love and laughter in a house that had so long been devoid of it.

Like always, it was Lucien who helped her fulfill her vision. She didn’t ask him to, but every weekend he came around to help her fix up the parts of the neglected house that needed the most work. The first few times she’d tried to help, she’d just ended up getting in his way, so instead she thanked him through the silent gestures they were so used to. There was always a fresh cup of coffee waiting for him, just the way he liked it, always beside a warm breakfast that she only bothered cooking when he came around. Sometimes it was pastries, or his favorite cookies, at times a to-go bag from his favorite diner.

He never left her house hungry, and she never watched him leave without her heart feeling a smidge fuller than it’d been before he came.

This was their routine for months, unbroken until the second weekend in December, when she’d forgotten to leave out a coffee for him. Forgotten, really, that it was the weekend at all.

Lucien found her in what used to be the living room, though very little living occurred in it nowadays. She was splayed before the marble hearth, now cracked with age and negligence, sobbing over photo albums of Christmases long ago, before their mother died and their family had fallen into poverty.

Things had been less than perfect then, too. Still lacking in the love a family should have, but at least she’d been comforted by childhood ignorance then. And at least she’d had her sisters by her side.

Lucien took one look at the scene before him, keenly noting the albums and what they contained, and said nothing as he took to lighting a fire in the hearth. It was distracting enough to Elain to quell her tears, both from the oddness of what Lucien had chosen to focus on, and because she couldn’t remember the last time someone had bothered to light it.

The fire roared to life, and already she felt comforted as it warmed her face, noting the way the flame lit the copper tones in his hair, reflected in Lucien’s eye in a mirthful dance. Only one eye, for the other had been scarred in an accident before she’d ever met him. He wore a glass eye to “look more tolerable”, as he put it, though that sentiment for blending in only went so far considering he chose a golden eye that made him look as though he’d come straight out of a steampunk novel.

Wordlessly, he came to sit beside her, taking a better look at the photo albums she’d laid out.

He clucked his tongue. “Your sisters aren’t coming home for Christmas, are they?”

She’d mentioned her plan to him—to invite her sisters home in an attempt to reclaim the horrid memories that plagued them all. To celebrate with them, and try to mend the ridges that had formed through circumstances outside of their control. Feyre had been apologetic, but firm, admitting that she’d given up on celebrating Christmas, and that in her personal healing journey, she didn’t think it’d be productive to return to the house. Nesta… hadn’t responded at all. She’d been difficult to get in touch with since their father’s passing. Though she was certain Nesta had seen the texts and missed calls, Elain knew her older sister well enough to know that the silence was a rejection of its own—one fueled by shame, not anger.

“Coming back to this house is difficult for them,” she said at last, gathering the courage to speak through the tightness of her throat. “They don’t share my optimism for how cathartic it could be. And according to Feyre, they don’t celebrate Christmas at all anymore.”

Lucien sighed, reaching a strong arm over to settle around her waist, pulling her to his side in a half hug. “I’m sorry. I know how much effort you’ve already been putting into it. You deserved for them to at least try.”

His ability to see right through to the lacerations on her heart was enough to encourage another sob from her, and he just held her through it, thumbs rubbing gentle circles where they settled at her hip.

“Maybe next year,” she said on a sniffle, hearing the naivety in her own voice.

Lucien leaned forward and kissed the crown of her head. When he pulled back, his smile was unconvincing. “Maybe next year.”

He’d squeezed her shoulder, then got up. Presumably to start the work he came here for, entirely unsolicited.

Elain allowed herself a few more moments of self-pity, letting the rest of the tears fall until they were gone. Then she picked herself up to seek out Lucien, see what project he’d fixed himself on today.

She found him in the kitchen of all places, frying eggs over the stovetop. The domesticity of it struck something deep inside her, a sharp pang of longing that seemed to crack right through her ribcage, straight into her heart.

He plated them atop two buttered pieces of toast and slid the plate to her.

“I figured if you weren’t going to take care of yourself today, I’m more than happy to take up the mantle.”

“Don’t be dramatic.”

“When’s the last time you ate?”

She had to stop too long to think about it, which earned her a suffering look from Lucien.

“Do you want me to stay here?” He offered. “So you’re not alone over the holidays?”

She shook her head. “No, Lucien. I couldn’t ask that of you. The last thing I want is to be a burden on you.”

He looked genuinely offended. “I’d never consider you a burden. And I’d enjoy it. Better than staying with Jurian and Vassa—those two bicker day and night.”

Elain greedily accepted the subject change. “When are you going to move out of there? It must be miserable third wheeling all the time.”

Lucien shrugged, eyes gone somewhere distant as he glanced away from her. “It works well enough for the time being. Besides, if I moved, I’d want it to be somewhere I can settle a bit more permanently. I’m tired of moving around.”

She smiled in silent agreement, but she knew it was empty, because inwardly she was fretting at the prospect that Lucien might decide for that permanent place to be somewhere other than here, where she was tied to a house that she was helpless to fix up without him.

“What’s that look for?”

She blinked, refocusing on the conversation at hand, buying herself time to get a grip by biting into the eggs and toast. Lucien watched her, brows raised as he patiently awaited her answer. Never one to let things go, the damned busybody.

“It’s nothing, Lucien. It’s just—I was thinking how much I appreciate having you around.”

He snorted. “‘Cause I do your dirty work, undoubtedly,” he mumbled, ruffling her affectionately on the head before he returned to his actual project. Leaving Elain to wonder what, exactly, she appreciated so much about him. She was certain it had absolutely nothing to do with the housework—it was something far, far deeper that she tucked away to revisit another day, not emotionally ready to confront that kind of truth just yet.

⟡⟡⟡

Come Christmas eve, Elain tried not to let the wasted plans get to her. She’d been remarkably busy with requests for last-minute flower arrangements and had been so eager to please her new clientele she’d promised to deliver them all by hand.

Hence she’d spent the majority of the day, well into the evening, driving around town to deliver her arrangements. It was pleasant work, at least, with many so pleased and drunk on holiday spirit that they’d invited her inside for tea, or offered her cookies, and at one particularly friendly house had even been invited to stay for Christmas dinner. The kindness was enough to take her mind off of her own dreadfully lonely Christmas, but as she delivered the last arrangement and headed back into her car she was struck with the knowledge that she’d be returning to the old, empty house all by herself. Not a Christmas light in sight, since she hadn’t worked up the courage to decorate. What was the point, when there was no one to see it but herself?

When she returned home, her heart stopped when she saw the lights were on inside. Had she been burgled? She couldn’t imagine why someone would want to rob her house, since even the outside was testament to its years of neglect, but her fears were curbed once she stepped inside and saw Lucien had let himself in.

And the lights weren’t from the overhead fluorescents, they were Christmas lights. Strung up in every corner of the entryway and kitchen.

He smirked at the gasp she made. “Surprise.”

With a nod of his head, he brought her into the living room, where the fireplace was lit and decorated with stockings. There was a Christmas tree in the corner of the room, decorated beautifully with a single present sitting carefully underneath it.

She turned to him, completely lost for words.

“I know it’s not with your sisters. And I really do hope they decide to come next year. But this year… this year I thought you could reclaim the bad memories with me?”

“But you don’t celebrate Christmas.” She was so dumbfounded it was the only thing she could think to say.

“I do now. Because it’s important to you, so it’s important to me.”

He said it so simply, so casually, as though it were just an everyday gesture. She watched as he strolled to the present tucked under the tree, wrapped with a care that surprised her.

She bit her lip, feeling suddenly guilty. “I didn’t get you anything.”

His smile was unphased as he returned with the gift in hand, extending it towards her. “You did. You decided to stay here. Maybe you didn’t do it for me, but I consider it gift enough being with you. And maybe that makes my own gift rather selfish.”

She had done it for him—because of him—but she was hardly bold enough to tell him that. Instead, she accepted the box, finding it curious how light it was. Lucien watched her carefully as she opened it and peeked inside.

Inside lay a single pink hydrangea. She smiled as she lifted it from the box. It was an odd flower to give on Christmas, a symbol of love and heartfelt emotion, but Lucien knew it was her favorite.

“It’s beautiful, Lucien, thank you.”

He made a strangled noise that was somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. “There’s more, Elain. Look again.”

Glancing more carefully inside the box, she realized that what she’d thought was the bottom was actually a piece of paper. She carefully lifted it, frowning as she read over what appeared to be… a deed. To an address in town, on the same street as one of their favorite cafes. She vaguely remembered seeing a building for sale the last time they’d gone together.

“What’s this, Lucien?” she asked, trying to keep her voice and expression guarded.

His eyes burned into hers. “It’s a storefront. I just thought you could use something that didn’t need to be reclaimed. It’s new, and yours to shape however you want.”

This wasn’t real. This had to be some kind of joke. But there was nothing but sincerity in Lucien's expression. Sincerity and… something else—longing?

“How did you afford this?”

He smiled, shrugged his shoulders as though it were a mystery to him, too.

She narrowed her eyes. “What did you do, Lucien Vanserra?”

He sighed. “I used some of my savings… and I took out a mortgage.”

“You what?”

He flinched. “A better way of putting it is that I made an investment. In you.”

“Lucien,” she complained. “What about buying a house of your own? Settling down?”

“I’m not worried about that.”

“Why not!?”

“Because—” he threw his hands out as if in frustration, ran them through his long auburn hair. “The woman I love recently inherited this old house I’ve been helping her fix up. I figured if worse comes to worst, I could finally tell her how I really feel about her and she might let me stay. Because I have this sneaking suspicion that she might feel the same way, too.”

“Lucien,” she whispered, shocked. “I—”

He shushed her, pressing a slender finger to his lips before he pointed up. Frowning, her eyes followed his fingers to the mistletoe that conveniently hung over them. She looked back to Lucien, surprise giving way to amusement. She had no idea that he was so… cheesy.

“I’m not some creep who’s going to force you to kiss me if you don’t want to. But, if you decide you want to follow Christmas tradition, that will be answer enough.”

She laughed, shaking her head.

“What?” he asked, beginning to sound nervous.

“It’s just that I’m realizing in all the ways I imagined you confessing your love, I always gave you far more credit than you were owed. I never thought you’d resort to a mistletoe.”

He made that sound again—that startled, half laugh. “I bought you a store—”

Elain didn’t let him finish defending his suave reputation as she gripped his face and brought her lips to his.

She’d had a crush on Lucien Vanserra since the moment he’d handed her that jacket. Back when she’d been a flushed cheeked, embarrassed freshman standing before the most handsome boy she’d ever hoped to meet. He’d transformed one of the most mortifying high school experiences into a cherished memory.

As much as she’d told herself through the years that her love for him was only platonic, there’d been no denying it when she’d returned to this house and decided to stay. That all the happy memories she wanted to create in a house that had known so much pain—she always imagined those moments to be with him. Even if she hadn’t been ready to admit it, Lucien had seen it.

Lucien always saw her.

He melted into the kiss, his arms sweeping around her lower back to tug her closer. His lips were searing, warming her body as she slipped her fingers in his hair. She tugged on him until he groaned, allowing her to slip her tongue into his mouth and taste every inch. He obliged her, in every way his body could. Allowing her to explore him in ways she had been longing to for years.

When they broke away for breath, she pressed her forehead to his.

“I love you, too, Lucien.”

He smiled. “Merry Christmas, Elain.”

#elucien #elain x lucien #elucien fic #elucien fanfic #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #sjm fic #Christmas fluff #Elucien fluff #title from Christmas Tree Farm by T-Swift #friends to lovers

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ncssian · 4 years

Text

just another graceless night

merry christmas 🎄here's my secret snowflake gift for the lovely sayo @sayosdreams. if u didn't guess it already, surprise! i hope u like it <3

a/n: this is part of my series of crescent city aus found in my masterlist, and is sort of a continuation to family therapy. you don’t need to have read family therapy to understand this fic, but it helps!

summary: it's nesta's birthday, and her loved ones have special plans for her (that may or may not go awry). featuring nessian and nesta/lucien friendship.

The ring caught the late morning light as Cassian twisted it over and over in his hands: a gold band studded with two pearls and an oval pink diamond at the center.

It was nothing like the female he wanted to give it to, and yet it was perfect for her. Because Nesta Archeron, despite all her walls and best efforts, was inside as warm as daylight. Or at least she was to Cassian.

The familiar beep of the security system sounded as someone unlocked the apartment door, and Cassian stood up quickly from the kitchen barstool. By the time the Archeron sisters entered, the ring was shoved deep in his pocket.

He affected a huge smile, though it may have been tinged with a hint of panic. “Back already?”

“Did you miss me too much?” Nesta padded over to the open-plan kitchen and dropped a paper bag of leftovers on the island next to Cassian. “I brought you macarons.”

He murmured his thanks into a soft greeting kiss.

Feyre and Elain remained in the living room, setting gift bags onto the coffee table. “We should probably get going,” Elain smiled and clapped her hands. “If only I could see more of my own sister on her birthday, but I suppose fancy breakfast and gifts will have to do.”

Nesta scowled at her younger sisters. “I told you both you could come with me tonight. I don’t care if you’re around my friends, really.”

Feyre made a face. “No, thanks. Not that your friends scare me or anything, but I have a hot date this evening.” She flushed at the idea of her boyfriend and Elain held back an eye roll. “I don’t,” Elain stated, “but I’m taking the night to myself. Don’t worry about us, go get wrecked tonight.”

“If you insist.” Nesta moved in for a goodbye hug, something Cassian knew she still had to force herself to initiate with her family. A chorus of happy birthdays and goodbyes went around, and then the sisters were pulling apart. Cassian watched contently from the threshold between the kitchen and living room, and straightened up once Feyre and Elain were gone and Nesta was turning back to him.

She pulled slowly at one of the small ties on the neckline of her blouse, letting it come undone. “So,” she said slowly. “It’s my birthday.”

Cassian was well-aware. He’d woken up an hour early this morning to show Nesta, slowly and thoroughly, just how glad he was that she’d been born. He wasn’t so lazy that he considered orgasms birthday presents, though, so he raised his brows at Nesta starting to undress in their living room.

“You want a repeat of this morning already? If I’m being honest, I thought there would be more variety on your birthday agenda.”

Nesta’s smile dropped at the same time her shirt dropped to the ground. “Don’t delude yourself, angel. I’m getting ready to change into my sweats so we can marathon Fangs and Bangs all day.” To prove her point, her jeans fell to the ground next, and she kicked them away before spinning around to head for their bedroom.

Cassian picked her clothes up and followed after her. “Wear whatever you want, sweetheart, but put a pin in that marathon plan.”

Nesta glanced at him with a frown. “Why?”

She didn’t actually think that Cassian hadn’t planned anything for her, did she? He huffed a laugh and chucked her clothes into a hamper. “I’m not going to be seeing you all night, which means,” he flicked her nose, “I have to give you my present now.”

Getting put on patrol duties the same night of Nesta’s birthday was not ideal, but if anything, it ensured that Cassian couldn’t chicken out of his plan at the last minute. The ring sat heavy in his pocket, and he would give it to her this afternoon no matter what.

Nesta glared at him, but it was halfhearted. “I told you not to get me anything,” she said. “There’s nothing I want today except spending time with you.”

“We are spending time together,” he promised. “Just not here.”

“Then where?”

***

Their destination was beyond the borders of the city, too far for Cassian to fly them. Their motorcycle ended up rumbling to a stop some hours later at the edges of a great sunflower field.

Nesta pulled off her helmet and stared in rare wonder. Yellow and green stalks spread out in every direction, touching the horizon and going on.

She turned to Cassian, a softness in her eyes that only he ever got to see. “I’ve never seen this place before.”

“Because you haven’t wandered more than twenty miles outside of the city in years,” he ribbed.

He led her to a clear space among the flowers that was laid down with a checkered picnic blanket and spread of food. Nesta glanced at Cassian, questioning.

“This field is private property,” he explained, “but I called in a favor ahead of time.”

Over a year of dating Cassian had taught Nesta how to be more familiar with sweet gestures and moments of vulnerability, but she still lacked the words to properly respond to this.

“It's very— thank you.” She cleared her throat.

Cassian only grinned and flicked her nose, a careless gesture that told her he understood how she was feeling without her having to say it.

Their lunch date was warm and full of light, two feelings that Nesta had been a foreigner to before meeting Cassian. She’d used to think she would never be fit for soft or pretty things, but here, eating strawberries in a sundress, she felt this was as pretty as life was ever going to get.

Not long after eating, Cassian’s hand found the back of Nesta’s calf, dragging up her bare leg and pulling until she was on her back, his hulking body stretched over her. Gasping for breath between laughter, Nesta succumbed to a barrage of kisses that soon moved lower, until her giggles turned into light moans.

“I love you, you know,” he whispered from between her legs.

A bright blue sky dotted with a few wispy clouds was her view while Cassian tortured her with his mouth, and her last thought before her eyes slipped shut and she slipped into release was How perfect.

***

In a shimmery dress layered with swaying fringe, Nesta picked through the dancing bodies of Vanir and mortals alike to get to the private area off to the back of The Seven Devils club.

Nesta had made the mistake of falling asleep in Cassian’s arms after their afternoon delight, and had woken up to the sky turning ablaze with the colors of the sunset and her phone buzzing insistently.

“What are you doing,” Amren demanded when she answered. “It takes you two hours to get ready and you’re an hour away from home. Did you forget we had plans tonight?”

“Shit— wait, how do you know where I am?” Nesta said as she began grabbing for things and starting to pack, Cassian watching in alarm.

“I know where everyone is,” the mercenary said. “Get your ass back to Crescent City now.”

“Wait— we’re leaving?” Cassian had said after Nesta hung up the phone. Nesta kept packing their picnic basket, trying to hurry before it got dark.

“Thank you so much for today, angel,” she paused to say to him. Grabbing his face with both hands, she put her gratefulness into a sweet kiss and hoped it would be enough. “But we need to go. Now.”

Cassian’s hand drifted to his pocket. He looked conflicted, angry, even, but he only nodded and led Nesta back to their motorcycle.

Once they were about to part ways hours later, Cassian for his job and Nesta for her party, she’d apologized to him once more.

“It's nothing,” he assured as he smoothed down her stray baby hairs. “I just thought we'd get more time together.” He leaned in to kiss her cheek with a smile. “But we already have lots of that, don't we?”

Now, at the black velvet rope tying off the reserved area, Emerie caught sight of Nesta and greeted her with a hoot. Nesta grinned.

“Over here, birthday girl.” A drink was shoved into Nesta’s hand as Emerie led her to the circle of couches where their friends awaited.

The usual group was there: Amren, Varian, Nuan, and some Aux guys she’d gotten to know while working for her firm. But a new face made her smile drop.

“Lucien,” Nesta said stiffly. She plopped down next to him on the couch, but pointedly ignored his mocking grin.

Elain had stayed home alone tonight just so Lucien and Nesta would have the chance to spend time on their own. Nesta still wasn't sure if she appreciated the gesture or not.

They had agreed, although reluctantly, that they would try to rekindle whatever they’d had in their teenage years. Lucien hadn’t participated in one of Nesta’s birthdays as anything other than Elain’s plus one in ages, and now… Nesta snorted to herself. It was like she was eighteen again.

“What’s so funny?” Lucien asked.

“Your face.”

A crumpled straw wrapper bounced off Lucien’s head before he could reach over and pinch Nesta. “No one's tackling anyone into the cake tonight, or else it's over for the both of you,” Amren warned. Her threats were mild, but both Nesta and Lucien knew enough about what Amren did for a living to shut up and go back to ignoring each other.

Music pounded, and while her friends chatted excitedly about meeting up after so long, Nesta eyed her drink in consideration. There was no amount of alcohol in the world that would ever get her to play nice with Lucien Vanserra, but maybe a few drinks wouldn't hurt.

She took a deep swig.

***

Nesta and Lucien drunkenly stumbled out of the club, giggling while holding each other up.

“We should call a cab,” Nesta said.

“No— let's walk!” Lucien gasped. “It’s so nice out tonight.”

“Yes, yes,” Nesta nodded adamantly. “Good idea, you're so smart, Lucien.”

It was far past two in the morning, and the rest of Nesta's group had scattered like roaches over the course of the night. Many of them had left her with a big smacking kiss on her cheek and a final birthday wish; Amren had dragged Varian into a dark corner some while ago and hadn't been seen since.

Her pile of presents, most of the gifts being either wildly inappropriate or outright hilarious, had been whisked away with the help of fae magic back to her and Cassian’s apartment. She only hoped Cassian didn't return home before her and find them.

Nesta had forgotten how much fun partying with Lucien was like. They hadn't danced— or drank— together like that in years. And the huge stuffed dolphin he’d gifted her hadn't hurt. She hadn’t slept with one of those babies since she moved out of her childhood home, but he had remembered her favorite animal anyway.

Now, she leaned her head against his arm as they set off in a random direction, trying not to topple over in her high heels.

They made it only a couple of blocks before Nesta decided that fresh air was not as nice as Lucien had promised. With every breeze, a discomforting nausea grew, and the longer she walked, the more aware she was of the sharp pressure on her bladder.

“Lucien,” she finally whined, “I have to pee.”

“Hold it until we get home.”

Nesta blinked and for the first time, looked around at their surroundings. How many blocks had they walked again?

The buildings had become worn down and older, and neon lights flickered over dim alleyways. The trees that usually lined every sidewalk curb had virtually disappeared. Even while seeing double, Nesta knew something was off. “Luc,” she said slowly, “where are we?”

“Uhhh…” Brown eyes squinted up at the decaying buildings. He was drunk out of his mind. “We’re close to the Old Square, I swear.”

But Nesta recognized this area, even if she had no clue where they were exactly. “This isn’t the Old Square.” Her grip tightened on Lucien’s arm. “We’re in the Meat Market, Lucien.”

They were both quiet for a moment. Then Lucien said, “Oops.”

Oops was an understatement. They were on the other fucking side of town— the bad side of town. The shadows in the alleys had suddenly elongated, becoming darker as if they were hiding nefarious activities. The buildings seemed to stretch and curve, and it took Nesta a heartracing moment to realize that was just what alcohol did to her vision. There were no monstrous creatures, at least not this far out on the edges of the Meat Market. The crime-ridden district wasn't anything a straightminded Nesta would have ever feared, but in her current state—

“Ohh, now I’m really gonna be sick,” she muttered.

“I thought you had to pee?”

“I need to do both.” Gagging on bile, Nesta sprinted to the nearest bush to empty out the contents of her stomach. She just barely missed her dress and shoes with her aim, but she was no amateur. At least her hair had stayed in its ponytail.

“Gross,” Lucien mumbled from somewhere behind her.

Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Nesta closed her eyes as her insides clenched once more. When she could breathe clearly again, she rasped, “Don't look.” She started wriggling her panties down her legs. In any other state, she would have felt bad for the lone bush, but now she was just grateful that this road was seemingly deserted.

Inebriated Lucien seemed to handle urine better than vomit, because he only crossed his arms and stood guard by Nesta while she did her business, as if he could protect her in case anyone walked by (he could not, but she thought it was sweet of him to try).

When she finished, Nesta was disappointed to find that she had not sobered up in the slightest. Clarity danced right on the edges of her grasp, but she was too exhausted to reach for it. Also, her feet were killing her.

Swaying, Lucien tugged on her hand and began pulling her along. “C’mon, we’ll call a ride home and find somewhere to wait.”

“Mm, good idea.”

Lucien pulled his phone out, and Nesta paused in the middle of the road to unstrap her shoes and kick them off. Gravel bit into her bare feet, and she shivered while Lucien sloppily tapped at his phone. She hadn't noticed the cold so much while she was still having fun, but suddenly it was freezing.

After a painfully long moment of silence, Lucien finally said, “Uhh… my phone’s dead.”

Nesta hissed, but was too tired to curse him. She wrangled her own phone out of her purse, hopping back and forth on her toes. The gravel almost hurt more than her shoes, and she was pretty sure the roads were littered with glass.

Turning her phone on, she made it all the way to Cassian’s contact info when she noticed the lack of bars on the corner of her screen. She clicked on his number anyway, hoping she could reach her boyfriend through whatever obstacles technology threw at her.

Of course, the call didn't go through. An animalistic noise escaped through her gritted teeth.

Lucien jumped in fright, his gaze still hazy and out of it. “What was that?”

“The sound I make when there's no fucking signal and we're both fucking lost.”

“Wha—? Gimme that.” Lucien sloppily swiped for her phone and missed, his hand passing through the air two feet in front of Nesta. Nesta ignored him and kept tapping at her phone, starting to walk in a random direction. “There has to be a signal somewhere,” she laughed somewhat high-pitched. “You can't have organized crime without a strong mobile network, right?”

After a few minutes, however, it became clear that whatever reception the drug lords and gang members were using, Nesta couldn't get it.

Hopelessness and bone deep exhaustion setting in, she started weeping, her shoulders shaking.

“Nooo,” Lucien slurred, trying to pull her up from where she crouched on the ground, her hands over her face. “Don't cry, Nesta, ’s’your birthday.”

“It’s not my birthday anymore,” Nesta sobbed. “It's the day after and we’re lost and we’re this close to getting mugged by a gang of vampires. And it's all because you have terrible ideas.” She cried harder.

“You’ve gotta get up.” Lucien tugged at her again, letting out a whiny grunt when she didn't move. “Why are you so heavy?”

Nesta wasn't moving because he was not, in fact, pulling at her very hard. Lucien was incredibly dizzy, though, and he wanted nothing but to be back home with Elain while he regained his senses.

As he was about to give up, a great boom sounded, and a dark hulking figure dropped down onto the street before them.

“AHH, A HUGE BIRD!” Lucien shrieked and stumbled backward into Nesta.

Another winged shadow dropped from the sky, landing beside the first.

“TWO HUGE BIRDS!”

Nesta blinked, finally looking up, only to shove Lucien off herself and drunkenly run forward. She hurled herself into the arms of the first figure. “Cassian!” she cried with relief.

“Are you okay?” Her boyfriend's voice was urgent. “How’d you get all the way out here?”

“We got lost,” she wept deliriously.

“Soso lost,” Lucien slurred from behind her.

Off to the side, she heard the familiar eternally-exhausted sigh of Azriel, second-in-command of the 33rd Imperial Legion. “I’ll take that one home,” his deep voice muttered. He gestured with his chin to Lucien.

He moved to hold the fae male upright, but Lucien smacked Azriel’s arms away. “Get your ’ands off me, Ihaveagirlfriend.”

Cassian bundled Nesta up in his arms and swept her off her aching feet. “Can you handle flying, or are you gonna be sick?”

“Uhnnn…” Her head was still throbbing and spinning, but her stomach had already been emptied out into those bushes. “I’m okay,” she lied. “Take me home, Cass.”

He still looked concerned, but was about to shoot into the sky when Nesta gasped, “Wait, my shoes!”

In the background, Lucien was now poking at the toned bicep of the arm keeping him upright. “Woah there, big guy,” he said. “You single or somethin’?”

“You just said you have a girlfriend.”

“Well, we're lookin’ foraboyfriend.”

Before Azriel could respond, Cassian gritted his teeth and called for him.

“Get her shoes,” Cassian gestured. Without letting go of Lucien, Azriel bent to pick up Nesta's heels and turned and walked the both of them back to where Cassian and Nesta waited.

Nesta gratefully accepted her heels and rested them on her stomach, so her hand was free to reach out and rest on Lucien’s face. It was more of a light slap, but the affection was there. “’m so glad we did this,” she said, sleep and liquor weaved through her words.

“So am I,” Lucien mumbled tiredly. He leaned in with a kiss aimed for her forehead, which ended up glancing off the side of her nose. “See you.”

“Bye-bye,” she said quietly, and then Lucien and Azriel were off in the opposite direction, and Cassian and Nesta were in the air.

***

Back in the warmth of their apartment, Cassian helped Nesta stumble toward the bedroom, pulling her away from the living area before she could collapse onto the couch and not get up again.

Herding Nesta onto the bed, Cassian got to work on shimmying her minidress down her body. “You’ve had quite the night,” he noted as he pulled off her dress and reached to unhook her pushup bra. “Good birthday?”

“Would’ve been even better with you,” Nesta said sweetly. His heart caught at the sleepy smile she gave him, and he cursed the ring weighing down his pocket for the hundredth time that day. He would have to wait for the right moment— again.

Nesta started babbling drunkenly about how fun her night had been, and then how terrible it had become, and how much more she liked Lucien now, even if he did have terrible ideas, before eventually circling back around to the topic of presents. “I can’t wait to show you what I got.” She tried winking at him, but in her state, it was just a very slow blink.

Cassian had indeed spied a red scrap of lace sticking out of a gift bag on his way through the living room, but lingerie was the last concern on his mind right now. “I’m glad you had fun with Lucien,” he said honestly as he eased Nesta into one of his T-shirts.

“Will you get me his gift?” she yawned. “It’s the soft…” she struggled for the word, “big fishy. Go get it, Cass.”

Chuckling lowly, Cassian dutifully searched the living room until he spotted a freakishly life-sized stuffed dolphin. When he returned to their bedroom with it in tow, Nesta was dead asleep.

Carefully, he tucked the plush dolphin next to her head before covering her with a throw blanket.

Yes, Cassian had ended up being the only person who hadn't given Nesta a present— not her real present, anyway. But perhaps it was for the best, he thought as he sat on the edge of the bed, pulling her sore feet into his lap. Nothing about the woman in front of him was worth rushing, and as long as she was happy tonight, tomorrow, and all the days after…

Well, what more could Cassian want for?

***

taglist: @ladywitchling @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @sensitiveillyrian @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool

#acotarsecretsnowflake #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #lucien vanserra #ncssianwrites #nessian fic

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thespianbooks · 4 years

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A Court of Nightmares and Starlight //Chapter 16//

Masterlist

(tags: @thron3ofbooks, @df3ndyr, @courtofjurdan, @art-e-mis, @herondamnn, @the-third-me, @im-still-trying-here, @emikadreams, @paytin77, @mis-lil-red, @sleeping-and-books, @lucieisabooknerd, @amandaraey-sunshine, @easy-p-lemon, @azymondias05) *bold tags don’t work ;-;

Happy Winter Solstice everyone! In honor of this day, and our girl Feyre’s birthday, here is chapter 16 to celebrate! I hope you all have a fantastic week celebrating the holidays! Merry Christmas, Happy Kwanzaa, and an overall Happy Holidays! ❤️

"Rhys?"

My soft whisper was met with silence; my mate remaining in the depths of slumber, an arm draped over my waist as we lay entangled in our plush sheets. It was still dark outside, only a couple of hours having passed since we turned in for the night and yet I awoke; overcome with an urge I had never felt so intensely before.

"Rhys?" I whispered again, touching his cheek gently and saw a flicker in the muscle of his jaw.

"Rhysand…" I pressed, my heart racing in hopes I could coax him into consciousness as tenderly as possible.

"Yes…?" He muttered, voice thick with sleep and eyes remaining closed.

"Rhys…" I hesitated, moving in a little closer to him as I murmured sheepishly. "I'm...hungry,"

His dark brows pulled together in confusion, "Hungry?" he asked.

I nodded, my head rubbing against his shoulder with the motion. "Starving, actually," I admitted as I traced circles along the dark whorls of his tattoos.

I grinned as he opened his eyes, still perplexed as he turned to me. "You didn't eat at dinner?" He asked, concerned, and I giggled.

"I did. You were there remember?"

"That's right," he closed his eyes again with a sigh of relief, the hand on my waist drifting to my rounded stomach pressed against his side. "We went to Sevenda's with the others and you had the prime rib special."

My stomach growled at the memory, and I choked back a rising sob. "Yes…"

He opened his eyes again, alarmed at the sound of unshed tears in my voice. "What's wrong, Feyre?" he asked, fully alert now as he shifted onto his side to look down at me.

I felt my eyes burn, suddenly overcome with guilt for making him worry and for waking him up, but I couldn't resist the ache in my stomach.

"I want more," I whispered.

He blinked, taken aback as he stared at me. "Of the prime rib?" He clarified.

I nodded with a hiccup. Cauldron damn these hormones. "I need it Rhys. We need it." I said, placing my hands on my stomach.

Rhys breathed a sigh of respite, laughing breathily as he dropped his forehead against my collarbone. "Oh Feyre, you scared me."

"I'm serious, Rhys, I'm so hungry and that prime rib was so good. I need more of it, or else-"

"Of course, my love, whatever you want," he hurriedly reassured me, kissing my cheeks before pulling back to meet my gaze.

I sniffed as I stared into his violet eyes, sparkling with amusement. "Really?"

My heart lifted at the feline grin on his lips, "Yes. Would you like everything that came with it too?"

I brightened and nodded, "Yes. Please."

He chuckled and pressed a chaste kiss to my lips before pulling back and climbing out of bed. "I'll be right back, then."

I beamed as I pushed myself up slowly, a month of growth on my abdomen now weighed me down and I required a little more effort when rising from any laying or sitting position. In the month that passed since the summit, since Eira's birth, we had all fallen into a sense of ease. Prior to the summit, Rhys and I did our best to compose our nerves over the rising coup, but now with the full support of our friends at our back, we finally felt a sense of solace. We were still in a period of waiting—of gathering more intelligence on Keir, Kallon, and now Beron. Thanks to Azriel's continued spy work, we were assured that no advancements were being made on either front, so we all allowed ourselves to breathe easier—for now at least.

The only wild card that remained was Eris, but after a brief meeting with him at our moonstone palace above the Court of Nightmares, things seemed...placated, for the time being. The eldest of the Vanserra sons, and heir to the Autumn Court, assured the earlier theory Rhys had—that the male wanted our support in overthrowing his father. What surprised me, however, was that it was all he wanted. He swore he played no part in his father's plans with Keir, and to prove it he provided us with detailed, secret, reports from his father's general; whom he had rallied to his side as well. The reports accurately lined up with the intel Azriel's network of spies had collected, and as of recently divulged a lack of movement as well.

It seemed the trio of traitors were biding their time, presumably attempting to adjust their plans now that the entire continent was aware of my pregnancy. We knew better than to assume they would reel back on the coup because of this; instead deciding to strike before my child had a chance to be born. The threat still haunted us all, but until we had news of any change in plans, we had to wait. In the meantime, Rhys, our family, and I were making the best of it. True to the promise I made myself, having seen how curious and eager Cassian had been in learning about my pregnancy, I spent as much time with them as I could. To aid in our efforts, Rhys and I hired a personal assistant to help balance our workload as High Lord and High Lady; agreeing that we needed the help while we transitioned into preparing for parenthood. That assistant was Clotho, the mute priestess who served in the library of Velaris, and one of the only other fae Rhys or I could trust outside of the inner circle. The priestess humbly agreed and now split her time between our estate and the library. Despite not being able to outwardly express herself, Rhys assured me that she was ecstatic to hear of my pregnancy and wanted nothing more than to help us balance our work between ruling and parenting.

In the month that passed, not only were we able to de-stress a bit and enjoy leisure time with our family, but I had also observed a notable change in myself. While my belly, now an impressive, rounded mound that was pronounced no matter what I wore, continued to grow with the promise from Madja that our son was still as healthy as ever; I noticed a myriad of developments in my emotions. While I did find myself with more energy than I had in the early days of my pregnancy, that frequency in fatigue now seemed to trade places with erratic mood swings. One minute I would be as happy and content as ever, and in the next beset with unexpected gloom. However, everyone seemed to take it in stride—especially my mate, who simply smiled and listened to me rant or just held me when I needed to cry.

Along with my renewed energy, my appetite returned with a vengeance. The same three meals I ate everyday no longer sated me, and I found myself snacking on various things throughout the day. There had been an incident a few weeks ago where I watched in total envy as Azriel snacked on dried meat in between training with Cassian and Rhys—something the brothers had picked back up in part due to the looming threat, but also as a means for entertainment. It wasn't until Cassian noticed me on the verge of tears and snatched the meat from Azriel, casually offering it to me, that I realized I had officially started with pregnancy-related cravings. The cravings hadn't been so intense; until tonight, when I had been ripped from sleep by my growling stomach and the desire to have another helping of dinner had me waking my mate from his sleep.

"Do you think she still has those leftovers?" I asked as I watched him dress.

"I'm sure she has plenty left reserved for you, Feyre darling. She saw how much you loved it," he replied with a knowing grin.

My face warmed as I recalled how the restaurateur offered to pack up extra servings for me to bring back to the estate, but I had been too embarrassed at the extra helpings I already consumed during our stay and politely refused.

"I didn't want to look like a glutton," I admitted sheepishly.

He walked over, resting his hands on the bed as he leveled our gazes. "No one would think that. You're pregnant and feeding the heir to the Night Court. They know he needs to eat, even in the middle of the night," he said and gave me another chaste kiss before stroking a hand along my stomach affectionately.

I smiled. "That's true. It's just hard to keep up when I feel absolutely ravenous every few hours."

He smirked appreciatively as he rubbed my stomach again, "Is there anything else my son wants?"

"Strawberries," I answered quickly. "With chocolate, or whipped cream."

Rhys laughed and pressed a kiss to my forehead. "Whatever you want, my love," he repeated and stood upright.

I waited for him to return as patiently as I could, pacing between our bedroom and balcony every few minutes before finally pacifying myself by sitting with a book on the cushioned bench of the balcony. In order to keep myself distracted, I read a book of plays aloud in hopes that my growing baby would be patient in his insatiable appetite. The sound of my voice must have appeased him, because as I continued to read, my hunger seemed to dull a bit. However, after a few minutes passed, I felt his kicks of protests and rubbed at the spot.

"If you have such a problem with my reading, then talk to your father. He's the one that taught mama how to read," I said, and my heart warmed at the memory of my lessons with Rhysand in my early days at the Night Court. "Maybe he'll teach you to read too."

"We both could," I heard Rhys say from behind me and I whipped my head around to see him holding a bundle of food.

I pushed myself up unceremoniously, eager to eat as the smells hit my nose. "That's so much food!" I exclaimed as he walked over and placed the bundle on the small table we kept on the balcony.

"Sevenda might've given us some more food she thought you might enjoy," he answered with a laugh before snapping his fingers and the food instantly displayed out before me.

I gasped in admiration before Rhys pulled out a chair for me and I happily sat, digging into my meal immediately and moaned with relief as the savory juices of the prime rib hit my taste buds.

Rhys sat next to me, casually grabbing a strawberry from the bowl he had also laid out and snacked on it as he regaled me while I indulged myself. "You truly are a sight to behold, Feyre darling."

I felt my face warm and dread filled my chest as I swallowed a mouthful. "Do I look like a pig?" I asked, that dread beginning to ebb into shame.

"No, no." He quickly reassured me, moving closer until our knees were touching. "I meant the sight of my expecting mate enjoying herself, of nourishing my growing child, is one I never dreamed I'd see," he explained. His hand came to rest on my stomach again as those beautiful amethyst eyes grew tender.

I squeezed his hand gently, "You deserve it Rhys. This child is a culmination of everything that is good about you; of all the good you've done in your lifetime."

His eyes were lined with silver as they met mine, and I moved my hands to cup his face. "He will be all the best parts of you, Rhysand."

"And of you," he swore. "You brought out the best in me Feyre. Everything that I am, that I have now, including this child, is all because of you."

My heart pounded with joy as I beamed and pulled him in for a kiss. He returned it with just as much fervor and heat began pooling in my core. When he pulled away too soon for my liking, I kissed him again-slowly, and nipped at his bottom lip.

I felt the fiendish smirk of his lips on mine as he muttered, "I thought you were hungry?"

"I'm hungry for something else now." I whispered, staring at him with half-lidded eyes.

I shrieked with a laugh as he scooped me up in his arms, my legs easily hooking around his waist as the food from the table suddenly disappeared and he carried me over to the nearest wall.

XXX

The following morning, I was pleased to see Rhys still in our bed and even more delighted to still be wrapped in his arms. He had a tendency to wake before I did these days and often got a head start on his work, allowing me the opportunity to sleep in and get the rest my body needed. However, after the night we had, I wasn't too surprised to see him needing the extra sleep. I smirked mischievously as I lightly traced along the tattoos on his chest with my own tattooed fingers, relishing in his scent as I recalled the details of our night that extended into the early hours of the morning.

It was a welcome change of pace after the stress that weighed on us; one we needed now more than ever with a youngling on the way. The days of just the two of us were set to expire in a few months; soon to be filled with a new life we would have to work together to sustain—all while balancing our duties of presiding over the Night Court. I often tried not to let the weight of that responsibility stress me out; knowing we had our whole family to rely on, but now that I was nearly halfway through my pregnancy, I wanted more of this time alone together.

I felt dark talons gently caress my mental shields and I smiled as I lowered them enough for my mate, who kept his eyes closed despite now being conscious. I allowed him into my thoughts; letting him know of my yearning for the quality time we had just experienced together as a lazy hand caressed my stomach.

"Let's go to the Cabin for a few days," he said after a couple of minutes passed.

I pushed myself up on an elbow, staring down at him as his sleepy violet eyes met with mine. "Really?" I asked, already keen on the idea.

He nodded in affirmation. "Cassian and Azriel are keeping the appropriate tabs on everything, and Clotho is set to meet with Mor and Amren today to go over some paperwork from the Palace Lords in Velaris," he explained.

I nodded. "My sisters also have their own agenda," I added. "Elain plans to drag Nesta to the market, or one of the palaces, today."

"So, we can get away," Rhys said. He brushed a stray lock of hair out of my face and I nodded again.

"Let's go now." I said, eager to escape with my mate.

It had been months since we set foot in the Cabin together. There were times he or I visited alone to let off some steam, sometimes meeting each other by the end of the day, but it was the first time we would go together since Winter Solstice; the first time since I fell pregnant, and I couldn't help but feel a little nostalgic.

Rhys smiled languidly. "Right now?"

I nodded and pushed myself up carefully, staring down at him with a grin. "Right now," I confirmed.

His smile shifted from lazy to determined as he sat up in the bed. I reached over to pull on my silky dressing gown and robe as he climbed out of bed and dressed. I laughed as he scooped me up in his arms and I wrapped my arms around his neck.

"We'll have to bring the baby too," I said in mock disappointment.

He chuckled as he walked over to the balcony. "That's all right. We'll consider it our first trip as a family."

The next thing I knew, we were in the sky, Rhys's powerful wings easily propelling us from our balcony and into the air in a matter of seconds. I held onto him as I felt the warm breeze encircle us and whoosh through my hair as he took us to our destination. I watched his wings as they moved; strong and beautiful, and felt a kick from inside my stomach.

"Do you think he can tell we're flying?" Rhys asked.

"Maybe," I said as I felt another swift kick and rested a hand on the spot. "It's okay baby, daddy won't drop us."

"Never," Rhys affirmed.

I looked up at him, "Do you think he'll have wings?"

The corner of Rhys's lips twitched upwards. "Of course he will. Maybe not at birth, but they'll come."

"Were you born with your wings?" I asked, admiring how the sun reflected off the iridescence of them as they moved in unison.

He shook his head. "My mother was hopeful they would develop as I matured, and a day after my eighth birthday they appeared," he said.

"Just like that?" I asked with a smirk.

"Magic."

I laughed and traced a finger along the membrane of one as it moved within my reach. He stiffened at my touch and I grinned playfully.

"Illyrian baby," I teased.

"If it weren't for my son in your belly, I would demand you fly us to the Cabin and see how you fare while I stroke your wings," Rhys taunted.

I giggled and pecked his cheek, keeping one arm draped around his neck while the other rested on my stomach. I paused as realization struck.

"Is that when your mother brought you to the mountains?" I asked.

Rhys nodded, already knowing what I referred to. "I think she was going to bring me regardless, but she was eager for me to fly and learn the Illyrian traditions."

The silver in his violet eyes flecked with a hint of sadness as he recalled the memory of his mother. The current status of our relationship with the Illyrians put a strain on his heart. He grew up with them, found his brothers amongst them, and their participation in the coup was the last thing he ever wanted. I laid my head on his shoulder in order to provide him with some comfort, not wanting either of us to dwell on that heartache during our little getaway.

His fingertips brushed the side of my stomach lightly as he held me closer. "I want him to learn, to train, like I did," he said.

Although he didn't ask, I heard the question in his words and I nodded. "He's Illyrian, just like you."

He pressed a kiss to my temple and landed on the steps leading to the Cabin, setting me on my feet carefully and I smiled reassuringly at him before taking his hand as we both walked to the entrance. As soon as we walked in, the fire in the hearth ignited and the rest of the house sprang to life with a wave of Rhys's hand, immediately accommodating us. A second later, platters of food appeared in the kitchen and I beamed.

"I love it here," I said as I strolled over to the counter, picking up a piece of perfectly crisped bacon and took a bite.

Rhys smiled roguishly as he joined my side, taking a slice of bacon for himself. "It's just what we needed, especially after your ravenous cravings kept me up all night. In more ways than one," he said with a wink.

I threw my hand up in a vulgar gesture. It's not like you were complaining. I said through the bond.

Indeed not, my love.

I sat at one of the raised chairs beside the counter, looking over the paintings I had filled in the room all those years ago—when I escaped here for the first time after learning he was my mate. I ate as I reflected on the last decade; at how it had brought us here, with our son now growing inside of me.

"I want to give birth here," I said after a comfortable silence had befallen us.

Rhys paused. "Really?" he asked.

I nodded, resting a hand on the apex of my belly. "It feels right. This is where I accepted our mating bond; where we decided to start trying for a baby, and I'm pretty sure this is where he was conceived too," I said with a smile, having done the math in my head. By the time I realized I was pregnant, on Starfall, I was already a couple of months along; meaning our attempt to conceive on Winter Solstice—as we did every year, had been successful

He smirked in return at the memory; it was somewhat of a tradition he made of bringing me here on my birthday. "My mother gave birth to me, and my sister, in this cabin," he said. "With the help of some Illryian midwives and some camp-mothers."

"Then it's perfect," I said softly.

He reached down to stroke my stomach gently. "I want to be there," he said. "In the room, while you give birth. Through all of it actually. I know it isn't traditionally done, my own father waited outside the room both times, but I want to be there and hold your hand when my son comes into the world. Just the thought of you going through labor, of enduring all that pain alone," he shook his head as if to erase it from his mind. I squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"I wouldn't want you anywhere else, Rhysand." I said, not at all surprised at his declaration.

A week after Eira's birth, Viviane and Kallias had both sent us letters-informing us of their daughter's arrival, fawning over her beauty and detailing how infatuated they already were, but also informing us of their own accounts of what the birthing process had been like. At the summit, Viviane expressed that she knew what to expect, but in her letter, she elaborated just how excruciating it really was. Luckily, Kallias had also been there with her, providing her with whatever support she needed and relieving as much of the pain as he could through back massages, also letting her clutch onto him for dear life as she suffered through pain after pain. I wasn't sure what Kallias had told Rhys in his letter, but shortly after my mate had summoned Madja and asked the healer to guide us through exactly what to anticipate.

"Are you nervous?" He asked.

I chewed on my lip in thought, recounting the gruesome details that both Viviane and the healer had laid out for me. The pain alone would come in constant, violent waves, and could last as long as a day.

"A little," I admitted. "But I know I'll be much more comfortable here; with you there."

"I'll be there every step of the way and do whatever I can to ease the pain." He promised, taking my hand and pressing a lingering kiss to it.

I smiled. "It'll be just the two of us, Madja, and the midwife."

The healer had told us that she worked with her sister, who served as a midwife for just as long as she had been a healer, when delivering younglings. Rhys and I readily agreed to have her along and made a plan to meet with her once I came closer to the end stages of my pregnancy.

I squeezed the hand that held mine, staring at the new tattoo that had formed from his renewed vow he made at the beginning of my pregnancy—when he promised not to let his male-bonded instincts shelter me unnecessarily. I ran my thumb over the crescent moon design.

"Do you think," I hesitated, mulling over my words. "Do you think...I'll be good at it?"

He paused. "At what? Giving birth?"

I laughed humorlessly, "No, not that. At...being a mother?"

I avoided his gaze, feeling the weight of those smoldering violet eyes as I continued to stare at the blue-black ink of his tattoo. After a few seconds of silence, his other hand came to grip my chin gently, tilting my head up so that I could meet those beautiful eyes.

My heart skipped a beat at the sincerity in them. "You will be an amazing mother, Feyre," he swore, his voice earnest.

My eyes burned as I thought of my own mother; of how imperious and cold she had been towards her daughters. I often wondered how she had felt when she was pregnant with us, because once we were born, she hardly bothered caring for us at all. Did she ever love us? She worshipped my father, her "one true love," but how could she not dote on the fruition of that love? Perhaps she had loved my father for what his wealth provided her instead, and the lavish lifestyle she lived-before she died.

"You are not your mother, Feyre." Rhys said, his hand moving from my chin to my cheek. "I already see the love you have for our son in your eyes, in your actions, every day."

I sniffed as I looked down at my stomach, heart swelling as I thought of my son—of how eager I was to hold and cherish him, and I couldn't fathom pushing him away. I nodded lightly as I wiped at the few tears that managed to escape.

"I just worry sometimes," I admitted.

Rhys nodded in understanding. "I worry about myself too," he said, and frowned. "I worry about being like my father; that I might be too hard on my son, and that I might age as cold and calculating as he did."

I shook my head, taking hold of the hand still on my cheek. "You could never Rhys," I said with the same smile I had given him last night—the same emotions in my eyes as I reminded him what this child meant for us.

I felt the tension leave as he sighed in content, resting his brow against mine as we both stared at my stomach; our thumbs caressing either side of it, holding our baby. I felt him move, sending kicks at both our hands, and we laughed; my chest swelled with hope that perhaps he could feel the love between us—at the love we shared for him.

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iambutmortal · 2 years

Text

Into Daylight

Summary: Everyone knows what happens when a man can’t pay their debts: the Duke comes to take a child. And Elain knows it’s only a matter of time until he comes for her. But there’s something else lurking in Duke Vanserra’s manor and she’s more wrapped up in it than she could ever imagine.

Pairing: Elucien

Word Count: 17k

Content Warning: None

Read on AO3

For @azrielshadowssing Merry Christmas! I loved getting to write this so I hope you enjoy it and I managed to live up to my promise of sexy Eris. And thanks to everyone at @acotargiftexchange for putting on such a great event.

Elain’s sisters were whispering again. She forced her breathing to stay even, kept her eyes closed. Crammed between the two of them on the bed they all shared, she hoped it looked like she was still asleep.

Based on the steady stream of murmuring above her, they hadn’t noticed she’d woken.

“We’re running out of time,” came Feyre’s nervous hiss.

“He’s not going to take her,” was Nesta’s response, her tone firm. “I don’t care what father does, I’m not letting her go with the Duke.”

Elain felt like she’d been doused in ice water as it dawned on her half awake brain what her sisters meant.

Duke Vanserra was coming to collect what he was owed.

Elain had always known she lived in the worst of the five duchies, the furthest North in a kingdom that never seemed to fully escape the cold of winter. Even in the midst of summer it was never truly warm, spring bleeding straight into autumn, the sun never fully heating the earth to let growth fully bloom.

Nothing grew there, people eking out meager existences by working for one of the merchants in their mansions, riches fueled by the one redeeming quality of Thornfield: it’s port.

Elain’s family had once been among them. She could remember running through halls lined with portraits, satin slippers slapping against floors of marble. All that was gone, taken so swiftly Elain was half convinced it had all been a dream, a childhood fantasy to distract herself from the thin cabin walls that never quite kept out the chill or damp, the tough meat Feyre brought back after hunting.

This was her reality, trapped between the too-thin bodies of her sisters while they tried to figure out how to deal with the seemingly never ending debt her father had accrued.

It was the truth none of them wanted to acknowledge. The money, what little their father had managed to save, was running out, and fast if their ever more threadbare clothes were any indication.

Not that Feyre or Nesta would ever tell her that. Better to keep naive, sweet Elain in the dark, let her stay in her pretty daydreams.

But Elain knew.

Heard Greyson’s threats ringing in her ears, what he’d told her when she turned down his offer of marriage.

You know what the Duke does when a man can’t pay his debts.

Despite herself, Elain shivered. She did know what happened. How footmen showed up on doorsteps in the middle of the night, whisking away a child to pay off whatever the Duke thought he was owed.

He always took the loveliest, and everyone in the village knew when the time came it would be Elain the Duke wanted.

“Nesta,” came Feyre’s response, shaking Elain out of her thoughts. “We need another option.”

Elain huffed a breath and rolled over on the bed. On either side of her, Nesta and Feyre stilled. She didn’t want to hear their plan, what they’d be willing to risk to keep her safe. Let them plot while she was out in the garden, trying in vain to grow something in the hard ground.

“We’ll talk about it in the morning,” Nesta sighed, sounding defeated.

A cold hand - Nesta’s - stroked through her hair, playing with the gentle curls.

“She’s not ending up like the others,” Feyre said fiercely. Elain could almost picture it, the way Feyre’s blue eyes glowed with defiance in the dark.

Elain swallowed down the lump of fear rising in her throat. Rumors swirled around the Kingdom of girls going missing, bodies drained of blood showing up around the various palaces inhabited by King Beron and his five sons.

Another stroke of Nesta’s hand on her hair. “We won’t let them.”

It was dark when the knocking started. Their father looked up at the door from his stoop by the fire, fear and guilt written plain across his face.

“What did you do?” Nesta snarled, even as she stood, throwing the book she’d been reading down on the seat below her.

“They were going to kill me,” their father pleaded, eyes darting around the room, looking everywhere but at Elain.

She put down the shirt she’s been mending, sewing yet another patch into the fabric that was more scraps than original shirt at this point.

Another round of furious pounding rang through the cabin, the flimsy wooden door rattling in its frame.

Feyre joined Nesta on her feet, clutching the arrow she’d been making tight in her hand. As if it would be able to do anything against the Duke’s soldiers.

Elain’s two sisters glanced at each other before Nesta stepped forward to open the door, Feyre following behind her like a shadow.

The footman was more bear than man. Tall, broad shouldered, his dark hair hanging down to his collar. His lips curled in disgust as he took in the hovel they called home.

Elain had never seen her father look more fearful as he took in the auburn uniform of a Duke’s servant, come to collect what he owed.

“He said he wouldn’t send you,” came his horse rasp. “That she’d be safe.”

The footman scoffed. “The Duke doesn’t like to be defined. Although,” he gave the cabin another glance, “I doubt you ended up here because of good decisions.”

“I’ll do anything,” Elain’s father begged, rising on shaky legs, his bad knee nearly collapsing underneath him. Elain flinched at the sight, remembering the horrible cracking sound from when the debtors had broken it while her and Nesta cowered in the bedroom “Just don’t take my daughter.”

“You have the money then?” Was the footman’s only reply. He hadn’t moved from the entrance, had the audacity to look bored, as if he stole children from their families every night. He probably did.

“Not Elain,” came her father’s pitiful whine. “One of my other two daughters would do much better, will work much harder for the Duke. He’d be more happy with them.”

Nesta and Feyre’s faces bore matching expressions of disgust, but neither of them contradicted him. They didn’t think she’d be able to survive whatever horrors waited for her in the Duke’s mansion. Elain wasn’t sure she disagreed.

“I’m under strict orders, the Duke wants the prettiest one.”

Nesta took a step towards the footman, putting herself between him and Elain. “Take me. The Duke will never know.”

The footman’s hand ran along the hilt of the dagger sheaved in his belt. “I was told to take Elain Archeron by whatever means necessary. Don’t make my job more difficult than it needs to be.”

Elain knew Nesta was prepared to fight, to kick and scream and claw until she couldn’t anymore. Feyre too, if the white knuckles around her arrow were any indication.

But Elain couldn’t do it, couldn’t see her sisters hurt on her behalf.

She rose to her feet. “I’ll go.” She hated the way her voice trembled.

“No,” Nesta cried, the sound ripped from her throat.

Elain couldn’t look at her, directed her gaze towards the footman. “It’s only until the debt is repaid?”

“Not a night longer,” he confirmed, face softening for the first time that night. Elain thought she might have detected pity behind those cruel brown eyes, even as he took a step towards her, offering a hand.

Elain took it, letting him pull her towards the front door.

“Wait,” Feyre begged, “let us say goodbye.”

The footman sighed, but dropped her hand. “You have a minute, we’re already behind schedule.” He glared, making it clear he blamed them for the delay but Elain doubted she’d have been granted more time even if she had gone willingly.

Feyre threw her arms around Elain’s neck, pulling her close. “We’ll figure out how to save you,” she whispered in her ear. “I’ll pay off the debt.”

Elain didn’t ask how, knew it was impossible when Feyre’s hunting was barely enough to feed them as it was, much less make any extra money.

Feyre stepped back, letting Nesta take her spot. Elain clung to Nesta’s rigid body and willed herself not to cry. Not where Nesta could see and might decide it wasn’t too late to kill the footman and flee with Elain.

“That’s enough,” the footman interrupted.

Elain detangled herself from Nesta’s grasp, and let herself be pulled out of the cabin.

She thought she heard her father call her name behind her, but the door was slammed shut before she could turn around and check.

The carriage before her was so grand it nearly took her breath away. Elain had thought she’d grown up in splendor, that their own coach pulled by four matching snow white horses had been the height of luxury. She was wrong.

No less than six chestnut stallions stomped and kicked at the snowy ground in front of her, attached to a gilded carriage large enough to fit at least eight. Ornate gold coated the outside, swirling patterns depicting wolves and birds licked in flames. Large glass windows exposed the red velvet covering the inside, curtains hanging behind that could be lowered to give privacy.

A coachman, wearing the same auburn suit as the footman, gave them a nod of acknowledgement as they approached.

The footman swung open the door, holding out an arm to help her climb inside. He followed, sitting opposite Elain on the softly cautioned seats, and with two taps on the roof, they set off.

Elain refused to let herself look back, to see if any of her family were waving her off. A single tear slid down her cheek, dropping down onto the brown cotton dress she wore.

“It won’t be that bad, ma’am,” the footman said. He sounded gentler than in the cabin, his face earnest.

His pity only made Elain feel worse, her stomach turning over itself. A few more tears slid down her face, even as her throat ached with the effort to keep from sobbing.

The footman shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “My name’s Jurian,” he offered. Elain just stared at him with watery eyes.

Jurian reached into his breast pocket, pulling out a handkerchief and handing it to her. “I swear the Duke’s not as bad as whatever you’ve heard about him.”

Elain very much doubted him. King Beron once had seven sons, but two had been murdered in cold blood before they came to age, leaving only five brothers, one to inherit each of the five duchies. Elain didn’t want to know what the Duke had done to make sure he survived, but she very much doubted it was anything less than the cold, calculated cruelty she’d heard of.

“Why should I trust you?” Elain sniffed, dabbing at her eyes with the offered fabric.

Jurian pointed out the window. “I grew up about a mile from here, in a cottage similar to yours. My mother still lives there, doing whatever washing people throw her way.”

“How did the Duke get you?” Elain asked, peering at the large man before her. She couldn’t imagine him as a small child, ripped away from his mother due to someone else’s failures.

Jurian gave her a small smile. “My own stupidity, unfortunately. Came on some hard times after my fiancée left me, found too much pleasure in the bottle.” He shrugged. “Nothing to be done about it now. Besides,” Jurian leaned forward, like he was letting her in on a secret, “it’s the best job I’ve ever had. Better for working for one of those stuck up merchants at least.”

Elain snorted. She wasn’t sure she believed him, but if nothing else he’d succeeded in making the tears stop falling.

The rest of the ride passed in silence, Elain peering out the window as the dark forms of trees passed by in a blur. Anticipation formed a knot in her stomach as the trees grew more sparse, the bouncing of the carriage on the dirt road dampening as they switched to more well trodden paths.

Gradually, the Duke’s palace came into sight. Even buried in snow, the manor was breathtaking. Red brick walls, no doubt thick enough to keep out the chills, and a steeply sloping roof of white shilling gave the house a homely feel, at odds with its behemoth size, enough to take up the whole width of the window pane.

They approached from the back, up a path surrounded by carefully manicured gardens. How they’d managed to get anything to grow was a mystery to Elain, but sculpted bushes stood along the road, lightly dusted with snow.

“We’re here,” Jurian confirmed. The carriage ground to a halt, Jurian resting his hand on the lever.

Elain felt more tears well up in her eyes.

“Listen,” Jurian said. “I promise it won’t be horrible, but if you ever fall into trouble, come to me.”

“But why—“ Elain asked. She didn’t know how to finish the sentence without it being rude. Why would you help me? What could you even do against a Duke?

Jurian smiled at her, finally opening the door. “Us humans have to stick together, don’t we?”

Elain didn’t have time to ponder what he meant by that before he was hopping out onto the ground and offering a hand to help her down.

“Come,” Jurian ordered, voice once again gruff as he reentered the house of his master.

He led her towards a small side door, far, far away from the ornate glass ones that led to the main part of the house.

The servant’s hall was dark and narrow, although blessedly warm. Small candles provided just enough light for Elain to see the rough stone floor beneath her feet and keep from tripping. Even at the late hour, workers bustled around them, carrying trays and clothes and hairbrushes. All the things Elain used to have brought up to her as a child, when she had people to boss around.

Jurian led her down past the kitchen, past the laundry room, to a room filled with a half dozen bronze tubs.

A servant girl was waiting for them, her brown hair pulled back from her face in a simple plait, showing off the softly rounded cheeks flushed slightly against her dark skin, full lips pursed in a scowl.

“Took you long enough,” she snapped, roughly gripping Elain around the wrist.

“Sorry to take you away from your busy schedule of cleaning the baseboards for the fifth time this week, Kaisia,” Jurian shot back.

“If you have a problem with my job, take it up with Vassa,” Kaisia snapped, dragging Elain over to one of the tubs. It was half full of water, soap bubbles floating on the top.

“Always pleasant talking to you,” Jurian muttered. Elain heard the door shut, leaving her alone with this surly woman.

“I—“

“Do you need help to get undressed? Or are you capable of doing that yourself?”

Elain shook her head, even as she felt her face heat. Her and her sisters bathed in the same room, one after another on the rare occasion they had enough time and energy to fill the tub, but stripping down in front of a stranger was wholly different.

“Then get on with it.” Kaisia crossed her arms over her chest. “The Duke demands we bathe weekly, so there’s no sense in trying to keep your modesty.”

“Sorry,” Elain stammered, reaching up with trembling hands to pull her dress off.

If possible, Kaisia’s scowl deepened. “Your clothes are disgusting.”

“We don’t have enough money for new ones,” Elain defended.

Kaisia just nudged the pile of fabric on the floor with her toe. “It’ll have to be burned, the Duke doesn’t want to keep anything too dirty around.” She directed her attention on Elain. “Get in the tub.”

“Sorry,” Elain repeated, stepping in quickly.

The water was lukewarm, too cold against her skin, but Elain forced herself not to cry out, couldn’t deal with any more of Kaisia’s scorn.

The woman handed her a scrub brush and Elain made quick work of cleaning herself, wrinkling her nose at the layers of dirt that came off, turning the water a light shade of grey.

Elain had to suppress a yawn, the late hour finally getting to her.

“Did they make you stay up to help me?” Elain asked, feeling guilty for the first time. She doubted most of the Duke’s servants got enough sleep if the crowded hallways were any indication, and she didn’t want to rob Kaisia of any of the free time she did get. It wasn’t her fault she was stuck here.

Kaisia shook her head. “We keep nocturnal hours. You’ll get used to it.”

Elain shuddered, the water rippling around her. She hated the night, the way the dark and cold always crept in, tried to sit as close to the fire as she could as soon as the sun set.

Kaisia peered into the water. “I don’t think you’ll get any cleaner than you are with how flirty the bath is. Up.”

Any guilt Elain felt immediately disappeared. She doubted Kaisia was any better when she first came here, had probably made the bath water even darker.

Kaisia tossed a towel at Elain as soon as she stood up, and she barely managed to catch it before it fell into the water. Elain wrapped it around herself, couldn’t help but sink into the fluffy fabric, the warmth it offered.

Elain stepped out of the tub, and took the white dress Kaisia offered. It matched the one she wore, the design plain but the fabric finer than anything Elain had worn since she was a child. She slipped it on, and then took the auburn cloak Kaisia held, the color matching Jurian’s uniform.

“Walk,” Kaisia ordered, heading to the door. Elain followed mutely, slipping on the soft leather shoes waiting by the exit before entering back into the dark hallway.

This time, no one stared at Elain as she walked through the servants quarters, the new dress and clothes marking her undeniably as someone who belonged among them. They headed deeper into the house, further down into the dark basement, past rows and rows of identical looking wooden doors.

Kaisia stopped in front of one near the end of the impossibly long hallway.

“Ours,” she said, pulling out two silver keys. She handed one to Elain, using the other to unlock the door. “The room for those who’ve arrived in the last month.”

The room was cramped, but bigger than the one room Elain shared with her three sisters. Five beds and dressers stood around the room, four already clearly occupied, the bed covers slightly askew and a few personal belongings strewn atop the dressers.

Elain sat down on the only undisturbed bed, the one closest to the door.

“Duke always wants us to give the new people a night to settle in,” Kaisia said, leaning against the doorway. “I assume you’ll be fine?”

Elain nodded. “Don’t let me keep you from your work.”

“Be ready by sundown tomorrow to start,” Kaisia ordered.

Elain squared her shoulders as she stood in the line of identically dressed women, all in white with their hair pulled back in low buns.

“There’s always more women than men,” Kaisia hissed from in front of her, “so we always get stuck with the worst jobs.”

Elain nodded, desperately trying to keep her bottom lip from trembling. She could imagine all sorts of horrible tasks, from scrubbing the privy to washing the horse stalls.

Privately, so privately she didn’t dare whisper it out loud, she prayed to whatever gods were left that she’d be assigned to the gardens, that she might be permitted to work during the day.

The line was quickly shortening, taking Elain closer and closer to her taskmistress. Vassa, the girls had warned her, was a cruel headmistress, but a fair one, would reassign better tasks to whoever worked hardest.

In front of her, Kaisia got sent to hang laundry with a sigh of relief, and then it was Elain in front of the pretty redhead.

The woman, probably only a few years older than Elain, if that, cast a discerning blue eye over her.

“So you’re the pretty one then?”

Elain stared at her mutely, unsure of how she should answer.

“Not very smart though,” Vassa muttered, before turning around and thrusting a silver tray in Elain’s hands. “Take this up to the master then.”

“I don’t know where—“

“Next,” Vassa called, forcing Elain out of line.

“That’s the worst job,” Kaisia said, sounding sympathetically. “No one wants to spend too much time around the Duke.”

“Where do I take this?” Elain asked desperately. From all that she’d heard about the Lord, she doubted he’d take well to having his breakfast late.

“There’s two cups,” Kaisia muttered. “Fuck. One of the Duke’s brothers is here.”

Elain paled. She’d been prepared to see the Duke, knew running into him at some point during her stay was unavoidable. But serving him and his brother—

“Go up the stairs, take the first left, up another set, and then the Duke’s study is the first door on the right,” Kaisia said. “Just keep your eyes down and don’t speak unless spoken to.”

Elain wanted to ask her to wait, ask if they could switch jobs, but Kaisia turned down the hallway that led to the laundry room as Elain’s feet continued to carry her towards the main part of the house.

If asked, Elain would never be able to say how she made it in front of the study, swung the large cherry door open, and stepped inside without dropping the tray and fleeing, but she did, eyes glued to her feet as she shuffled inside.

“All I’m asking is that you pretend to take this seriously,” came a male voice. It seemed to drip arrogance, the words cut with an intangible sense of cruelty.

“As much as I delight in the knowledge something I do bothers you, I have no plans to change things,” came the response, this voice lower, a rumble that Elain felt in her belly.

Elain dared look up enough to see where to set the tray, and saw the two red headed males sitting on opposite sides of an immense desk.

Both were unfairly attractive, matching high cheekbones and sculpted jaws, even as Elain felt her gaze pulled towards the one further from her. His eyes, one russet, the other made of golden metal, were trained on the man across from him, no doubt his brother. Deep, gouged scars ran from his eyebrow down to his cheek on the left side, the same as that golden eye. His hair fell down to his shoulders, a contrast to the close cut of the other.

The Duke. Elain had heard the stories of how he’d lost the eye, mouthing off to one of the Queens from across the sea, how she’d ripped it out with her nails as the King watched on. A lesson for his arrogance.

And even with the scaring, he had to be the most beautiful man Elain had ever seen.

“I’m taking time out of my life to deal with this,” hissed the man closer to her.

“You think I wanted this?” the Duke asked, pointing at the exposed skin of his hand.

Elain squinted, nothing for the first time that the Duke’s skin was several shades darker than that of his brother.

Probably a bastard. No wonder he got stuck with the shittiest of the five duchies.

Elain took a step closer, clearing her throat softly. She doubted either of the King’s sons would take well to her eavesdropping, only hoped she wouldn’t be punished too severely for what she’d already heard.

“What am I going to do when I have a family? It’s bad enough Callum begged off next month because he knocked up his wife again,” the Duke’s brother continued as if he hadn’t heard.

“Ah yes,” the Duke sighed, “Callum, always living up to our father’s expectations. Although your argument falls flat when I never see you pursuing any of the women who follow you around.”

“Sir—“ Elain said, voice just above a whisper.

That caught the brother’s attention, both sitting straight up in their seats and turning to look at her.

“Didn’t they teach you not to interrupt?” sneered the paler of the brothers, Eris, if Elain’s hazy memory of the royal portraits was anything to go off of.

“I can come back,” Elain says, face burning.

The Duke waved his hand over the desk. “Just set it here.”

Elain nodded, eyes glued to the floor as she stepped between the men.

��They always send the new ones up,” the Duke said, speaking over her. “I think Vassa likes to taunt me with my bad decisions.”

If possible, Elain felt her face grow warmer, the shame burning brighter. She wanted nothing more than to sink into the floor, disappear from the Duke’s gaze.

“Like Vassa doesn’t have her own bad decisions to contend with,” Eris jeered.

Elain tried to set the tray down as gently as possible, lest the teacups rattle and draw any more attention to her poor job.

“What’s your name?” asked the Duke, as she took a step back.

“Elain Archeron, your grace.”

The Duke nodded. “In the future, Elain, please knock before entering.”

“Sorry, sir,” Elain said, curtsying low even as her stomach twisted into knots at the way the Duke said her name.

She cursed herself internally. As a child she’d had a ridiculous fantasy that she’d marry into the royal family, become a princess. It was just that, a childish dream, but her stomach apparently hadn’t fully caught up.

“You’re dismissed,” the Duke said, turning back to his brother.

Elain gave another bobbed curtsy before darting for the exit, walking as quickly as she could without running.

“Awful good curtsy for a peasant,” Eris said, just before Elain shut the door.

Elain fell into something close to a rhythm over the few days, dropping off the Duke’s breakfast tray before returning to Vassa to be sent off to clean something in the already spotless manor. She barely had time to eat the dinner given to all the servants, something simple albeit filling, before collapsing into bed.

She was kept so busy she didn’t have time to worry about her sisters, wonder how they were doing with just the two of them. Feyre and Nesta had always been too independent to spend much time alone together, both too stubborn to concede anything. Elain had always acted as a mediator between them, and she hoped they were getting along if only for her sake.

But sometimes, just when she was hovering on the line between being awake and asleep, she would think about the Duke. Eris was often with him in the mornings, sitting on the opposite side of the office, the tension in the room palpable. After that first day, neither spoke to her, but Lucien gave her a small smile of acknowledgement before returning to whatever paperwork he was dealing with. And if her stomach felt a little funny every time, then who could blame her. He was unfairly handsome.

As the end of her first week approached, everyone seemed to be nervous, the hallways teeming with pent up energy.

On the seventh night, there was no tray. The servants stood in the hallway in small clumps, tension seeming to radiate from them. Even Kaisia seemed to be affected, strands of dark hair escaping from her usually neat braid. They’d all been told to report early, the last of the sun’s rays just barely shining over the horizon. Elain plastered herself to the window, hoping to soak up as much as she could.

Vassa strode in and everything went dead silent.

“It’s your day off,” she announced. “Do what you wish.”

Kaisia’s hand was around Elain’s before she could fully process the words, pulling her away.

“Where are we going?” Elain asked, utterly baffled. She was sure even if Kaisia did have something planned for the evening, it wouldn’t include Elain. They hardly knew each other, and Kaisia always seemed mildly annoyed at having to talk to her.

Kaisia flung open their bedroom door and shoved Elain inside.

“Don’t leave,” she ordered, before slipping back out.

Elain stared at the door. This whole thing was weird. She’d never seen Kaisia look even slightly shaken but here she was, acting genuinely terrified. But if this was really her night off, she could sleep now, and spend the next morning outside, see the sun for the first time.

Kaisia returned to the room with the other three girls. They looked just as confused as Elain felt.

“Kaisia, what are we doing,” Dacia, one of their dorm mates, asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Have you been here on the nights off before?” Kaisia demanded.

Dacia shook her head. “No. But neither have you.”

“Well I’ve lived in the castle,” Kaisia said, slamming the door. The click of the lock seemed to reverberate through the room. “You don’t want to be out there.”

Elain sat down hard on her bed. “For how long?”

“Until the sun’s up,” Kaisia replied, plopping down on her own.

“This is stupid,” snapped Marcie, heading to the door. “I have things I want to do on my night off.”

Her hand hit the doorknob when they heard the first snarl.

The sound was unlike anything Elain had heard before, something deeper, more aggressive than any of the dogs who occasionally got into fights near the village.

Marcie backed up, face paling. “What was that?”

“The reason you don’t want to go out,” Kaisia answered.

A scream echoed through the manor. Elain’s hair stood on end. The nose was masculine, the cry one of pure pain.

Marcie leaped onto her bed, pulling the covers up over her.

Around the room, the girls followed her example, even Kaisia. Elain swallowed down a hysterical giggle at the sight. They were nothing better than little girls, hoping the monsters wouldn’t be able to get them while they stayed beneath the blankets.

The snarls and barks continued overhead, although mercifully there were no more screams.

“Is this what it’s like every month?” Dacia asked, her voice small.

“Yes. And in the castle,” Kaisia answered. “The King would make us lock all our doors, stay in bed. Everyone who left was killed.”

Elain shivered.

“So new girl,” Yevah, the one of them who’d been there the longest, said when there was a break in the noise. “How did you end up here?”

Elain raised her head from where she’d buried it in her knees. She knew what she was doing, and was grateful for any attempt at distraction. “My father’s ships sank and he couldn’t pay off the debts he’d taken on to send them off.”

Kaisia snorted. “Of course it’s not his fault.”

“What does that mean?” Elain demanded.

Kaisia rolled her eyes. “It’s never their fault you’re here, always something out of their control. It’s because the ships sank, not because he took on more debt then he could ever dream to pay off.”

“Fine,” Elain said, feeling her heckles raise. What did Kaisia know of her father. “Then how did the Duke get you?”

“My brother sold me. Liked gambling more than he did winning and used me to clear his debts.” Kaisia gave a bitter laugh. “I’ll be here until I die.”

“Oh,” Elain said, feeling stupid.

A shout ripped through the room, the words too muffled to be made out, but even Elain could recognize the cruel tone of Eris.

Kaisia flinched, pulling the covers up to her chin, a dazed look on her face. Elain wanted to offer some consoling words, do something but there was nothing. Besides, she doubted Kaisia wanted to hear anything from her.

Elain flopped down on the bed, rolling over so her back faced the door. She pulled her pillow up over her head, desperate to block out the sound, the growls, but it was impossible.

Exhaustion must have overtaken her eventually, because Elain woke up hours later, her face pressed against the pillow. She bolted upright, glancing at the window to check she wasn’t too late. She threw on one of her clean uniforms and darted out of the room, racing down the servant’s hall.

If she could just make it…

Elain threw open the door that led out to the garden, eager to feel the sun on her face.

She’d just missed it, the very last pink of the sky hanging low over the horizon.

Elain wanted to collapse, to sob at the injustice of it all. A week without seeing the sun and she’d missed her chance.

It was better than nothing, Elain told herself. The words felt hollow, the lie bitter in her mouth. She stepped out into the garden, her slippered feet sinking into the snow as she tried to chase whatever light she could.

She could just feel the last of the warmth against her skin. Elain closed her eyes and tilted her head up. This way she could trick herself, pretend it was just the watery light of a winter sun trapped beneath clouds, and not the signs of it setting, sending her back into darkness.

Elain waited as long as possible, until night had fully settled over the garden, before trudging back towards the manor.

Her eyes scanned over the red brick house, catching on a figure standing on a balcony. He raised a single hand in greeting, and Elain tentatively waved back.

She squinted, trying to make out who it was. She hadn’t seen anyone in the house aside from Lucien and Eris, doubted there was anyone else who lived there. Wondered if Lucien felt lonely, when his brothers left.

Elain admonished herself. He was her jailer, what did she care if he was lonely?

Still, she thought she recognized the long red hair, tied back in a low ponytail, could just make out the glint of a golden eye watching her as she slipped back into the manor.

Elain had just enough time to rush back to her dorm and throw her hair up into a bun at the nape of her neck before they had to meet in front of Vassa.

The housekeeper looked tired, even more so than Elain felt. She shoved the tray into her hands with uncharacteristic roughness, the force nearly knocking over the teacup.

Elain managed to steady it just in time, keeping the ceramic from shattering on the floor.

Vassa glared at her. “Go.”

Elain nodded, hurrying past the woman and up to the Duke’s study.

He was waiting for her, hands folded neatly in front of him on the wooden desk. He looked exhausted, dark circles she’d never seen before hanging heavy beneath his eyes. His chin was dotted with red stubble, like he hadn’t had time to shave that morning.

“Thank you, Elain,” he said, rising to his full height to take it from her.

He was taller than she’d imagined, her eyes just barely hitting the tops of her shoulders.

“Of course, your grace,” she said, bobbing a curtsy once the breakfast set was firmly in his hands.

“Can you do me a favor?” Lucien asked.

Elain peered up at him from beneath her eyelashes, meeting his multicolored gaze. He was staring at her intently, almost as if he was inspecting her.

She nodded.

“Send Vassa up here.”

Elain nodded again. A surge of disappointment rose up within her. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but something more than send up the housekeeper was for sure.

“Yes, your grace.”

Elain hurried back down, keeping her head low.

“The Duke wants to see you,” she said as soon as she was back in front of Vassa.

The housekeeper swore, a litany of curses that would have made a sailor blush heating Elain’s cheeks.

“Fine,” she snapped, turning quickly towards the exit, skirts swishing around her feet.

Elain didn’t have a chance to open her mouth, ask what she was supposed to do next, before the woman was gone in a flash of red hair.

With a sigh, Elain headed to her room. It was wash day, maybe she’d be lucky enough to go now, while the water was still lukewarm instead of freezing.

She swung open the door.

Kaisia was already in there, a white bandage pressed to her neck. She whirled around, guilt written across her face.

“What’s that?” Elain asked, taking a step towards her.

“Nothing.” Kaisia stood up, using her free hand to toss dark curls over her neck. “I’m going to take a bath.”

Elain blocked the door. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” Kaisia said. “Now move.”

“Show me,” Elain demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Elain, move,” Kaisia snapped, taking a step towards her. Elain grabbed her wrist, the one holding the gauze up to her neck, and tugged.

“Stop—” Kaisia cried but it was already too late. The white bandage fluttered to the floor, revealing two red dots marking her otherwise unblemished skin.

“Fuck,” Elain said. It was like the rumors said, girls turning up with two puncture wounds on their necks, drained of blood. There was something wrong with the King and his sons.

“Did Lucien?” The image that popped into Elain’s mind, one of Lucien, mouth attached to Kaisia’s neck, drinking, made her feel sick to her stomach.

Kaisia shook his head. “Not the Duke.”

Elain didn’t want to interrogate the relief she felt. “Eris then.”

Kaisia tried to shove past her. “It’s none of your business.”

“Sure, until you’re dead and he turns to one of us,” Elain snarled, shoving back.

“Eris doesn’t take anyone without permission.”

“Because Eris is what you think of when you hear trustworthy,” Elain scoffed. She barely knew him and she knew that.

“I grew up in the castle, remember? My brother’s still there, kissing Beron’s ass like anyone will ever think he’s worth shit. I know what I’m doing and I trust Eris.”

“Why are you defending him,” Elain demanded. “Sure he didn’t make you but what if he takes it too far? What if you end up another one of those missing girls, just a bloodless body on the side of the river somewhere?”

“It’s only the King who does that, none of his sons.” Elain must have looked incredulous because Kaisia glared at her. “He’s been drinking from me since we were young, I know what I’m doing.”

“And Lucien?” Elain demanded. “What about his drinking habits?”

“I don’t know what he does.”

Elain snorted.

“I don’t,” Kaisia insisted. “He was always different, hidden away. Spent all his time with his mother instead of the rest of the children. If he fed, I never heard of it.”

Elain sighed but stepped to the side, clearing the doorway.

“You won’t tell,” Kaisia asked, eyes wide.

Elain gestured to the empty room. “Who could I.”

Kaisia’s look of relief was genuine. “Thank you.” Elain just held open the door, letting Kaisia lead the way to the bathing chambers.

Elain spent the whole walk up to the study torn.

To ask the Duke or not?

He was her best option if she wanted a straight answer, to find out what Kaisia wasn’t telling her. Because she doubted Kaisia had told her anything close to the whole truth.

But to ask the Duke.

Elain was still undecided when she nudged open the door. The Duke was sitting in the same position again, lounging far back in his chair, brown boots propped up on the desk. He’d shaved, much to Elain’s disappointment.

“Your grace,” she said, sliding the silver tray onto the desk and giving a small curtsey.

He lowered his papers. “Thank you Elain.”

Elain turned, heading to the door, before sighing. “Your grace?”

The Duke quirked a brow.

“I saw something last night. Something strange.”

“Strange how,” the Duke asked, setting what he was reading down and leaning forward in his seat.

“I saw one of the girls and she had marks on her neck.” Elain opted to leave Kaisia out of it, didn’t know how much the Duke knew of his brother’s activities.

“Marks?” The Duke asked.

Elain met his eyes. “Bite marks.”

The Duke’s demeanor seemed to change in an instant. His face became a cool mask, something dangerous flickering in his good eye.

“And who do you think would have bitten her?” he asked, voice deadly calm.

Elain swallowed, realizing, for the first time, that the Duke was a very dangerous man indeed. Beneath the neatly pressed suit was something different, something other than human.

“I don’t know, your grace,” she lied. “But I’ve heard rumors in the village, of creatures who lurk at night.”

She knew the minute she said it she’d gone too far.

The Duke’s face was a wash of fury as he rose to his full height.

“You know nothing,” he snarled. “You’re just a village peasant who’s mind played a trick on her in the dark.”

“But—“ Elain started, even as she took a step back, towards the door. Her heart fluttered in her chest, pounding wildly.

“No,” the Duke shouted. “You will say nothing of this to anyone. Now get out.”

The Duke’s tone filled Elain with fear, terror she hadn’t felt since she was young and the debtors came for her father.

She turned and fled out the door, back to the servants quarters without looking back, took Vassa’s orders to scrub chamber pots without question because it meant she would be busy, didn’t have to go back to the Duke’s study.

The next morning Elain woke to see something lying on her pillow. She lifted it up, holding it to the candle on her bedside table to take it in. A silver ring with the most beautiful pearl Elain had seen in her life on top, better than in any of the jewelry her father had given her when he’d returned from long business trips, perfectly smooth and round.

Elain knew what it meant. There was only one person in the manor who had the ability to get such a perfect ring, to have it slipped on her pillow without anyone noticing.

Sure enough, Vassa was waiting for her in the hall. “You’ve been upgraded,” she said, glaring down her nose at Elain. “You’ll be bringing the Lord all his meals, no more cleaning.”

She shoved a dress in Elain’s hands, nearly identical to the one she wore except for the gold embroidery along the help and sleeves. “Go change, dinner staff has to be presentable.”

Elain took it mutely, quickly changing in the room while the other women watched. Dacia and Marcie buzzed excitedly, sighing over how handsome the Duke was, how they wished it was them, while Yevah stared with barely contained jealousy. Only Kaisia seemed unexcited, grabbing Elain’s hand and giving it a quick squeeze of support on the way out.

The Duke was waiting for Elain, not behind his desk but in one of the leather chairs by the bookshelf she’d never seen used.

“Elain,” he said, rising to his feet as soon as she entered.

“Your grace,” she replied, keeping her eyes glued to the table. Her heart was in her throat, hands trembling slightly at the memory of his anger.

“I would like to apologize for my behavior yesterday. It was uncalled for.”

Elain just set the tray down on the table next to him. “It is your right as Duke to express yourself as you please.”

The Duke growled low in his throat. “No it’s not. And I’m sorry.”

“You are forgiven, your grace,” Elain said.

“Lucien,” the Duke said, plopping back down in his seat. “If you are to continue to serve me I would prefer you call me Lucien.”

“You are forgiven, Lucien,” Elain corrected. She liked the way the name sounded, the way he smiled warmly up at her. “And your gift of the ring was wholly unnecessary.”

Elain had seen the way the boys in the village seemed to lord gifts over their girls’ heads, demanding favors as a sort of exchange. Elain didn’t want to know what the Duke expected in return.

“You were scared,” Lucien replied, like that settled matters.

“People are scared all the time,” Elain said. “They don’t all get jewelry.”

A single, surprised laugh burst from Lucien. “My father always makes my mother scared,” he said, sobering. “I don’t want to be like him.

Elain tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, if only for something to do with her hands. “I would have preferred you put it towards the debt.”

Lucien looked at Elain like he’d never seen her before, like he was inspecting her, trying to figure something out.

“You don’t know, do you? How bad it is.”

Elain swallowed the lump rising in his throat. “It’s a modest sum, and as soon has my father’s knee heals enough for him to find work—“

“Elain, it’s millions,” Lucien interrupted. “It’s more than my annual allowance. I’m still not sure how your father even had that much to lose.’

“Oh.” It was the only thing she could say , the only thing she could think. Elain felt like her body was deflating, any hope she had of leaving soon, of going back to her sisters fading away before her eyes. She was just like Kaisia, trapped here until she died.

“I thought you knew,” Lucien said. “I thought someone would have told you.”

“My sisters need dowries.” It was a stupid thing to say, but it was all she could think about. No one would marry Feyre or Nesta without dowries, take on that much risk without insurance. And if their father was truly millions in debt…

“Do you want them to work here too?” Lucien asked.

Elain tried to picture it, Nesta scrubbing floors, Feyre keeping her eyes down as she delivered the breakfast tray. She couldn’t. They wouldn’t fit into this world, had been born to lead, not to serve.

“No,” Elain said. “Better they don’t know.” She forced a smile onto her face. “But thank you for your offer.

“I’m sorry,” Lucien said again.

“It’s not your fault,” Elain said brightly. “Best not to worry about it.”

Serving Lucien was all Elain had time to do. She delivered his breakfast, set the lunch table, brought lunch, brought it back, sent up tea, had just enough time to take dinner, and then had to retrieve the nightcaps.

Her feet hurt from running back and forth through the manor, to all the different rooms Lucien took his meals in, and her skin was tender from the daily baths Vassa insisted she take.

“The Duke doesn’t want to smell you,” she sneered after that first night, sending Elain off to the bath room.

But she wasn’t scrubbing floors or chamber pots, something Elain was immensely grateful for.

And Lucien was surprisingly funny, making small quips as Elain offered him food, taking delight every time she offered one in return. At least when he was alone. Whenever Eris was there he was uncharacteristically curt, giving nothing more than a nod without breaking whatever conversation the two of them were having.

But Eris was gone more and more often, off in another part of the manor. So was Kaisia, a fact Elain noted, and then chose not to bring up, even as tension seemed to radiate between them.

The same tension that radiated through the halls as the full moon approached, less than a week away.

Elain brought Lucien’s dinner up that night to see his head in his hands, a crisp letter in front of him. Elain recognized the seal, the blood red wax and curled crown that marked a letter from the King.

“What’s happened?” Elain asked, holding the tray aloft. Lucien’s desk was strewn with papers, covering every inch of wood and leaving her no place to set it down.

“A new tax has come from the King,” Lucien said, running a hand through his long hair. “Another punishment we can’t afford to bear.”

Elain shuddered at the thought of another tax from the King, more of the meager crops her village managed to grow being taken and sent away to feed people who already had too much, sending the silver spoon on the tray rattling.

Lucien took it from her, sweeping some of the papers onto the floor and setting the tray on the cleared space.

“Does Vassa think I’m starving?” he asked, eyes going wide at the sight of the massive bowl of soup.

Elain snorted, her eyes roving over the thin white shirt, thin enough to make out the chorded muscles beneath. Lucien looked far from starving. Elain had never seen him train but she knew he must to look like that, to build the muscles she knew lie hidden beneath his crisp pants.

“Maybe she just wants to show off,” Elain said. “I think she made this one herself.”

“Typical,” Lucien muttered. He gestured at the chair opposite his desk. “Sit, have some. I won’t finish it and I bet it’s better than what they serve downstairs.”

Elain did, taking his offered spoon.

She had to contain her groan at the taste. It was more flavor than she could ever remember having in her life. The food they gave the servants was good, better than anything she ate in the cottage but this—

“Good?” Lucien asked, his eye sparkling with amusement.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” Elain said, handing him the spoon.

Lucien tried the soup, a slight moan escaping his throat. Elain steadfastly ignored the way the sound sent goosebumps up her arms. “Vassa’s been holding out on me too.”

He offered her another spoonful and Elain took it gratefully. The broth was flavorful, but thin, containing less meat and vegetables than she would have expected for a Duke.

Although if the King really wanted more from them—

“How will you pay the tax?” Elain asked. “There’s already too little in the villages.”

Lucien signed, ripping a chunk off the hunk of bread Vassa had sent with the bowl. “I’ll dig into my storehouse. Beron just wants to punish me anyway, remind me how much he loathes my position.”

“If he didn’t want you, then why not make one of the other two…” Elain trailed off, the unsavory words hanging in the air.

“Why not make one of my other two brothers Duke and kill me off instead,” Lucien finished, sweeping some of the letters into a pile. “There’s benefits to being my mother’s favorite. She knows too much for my father to do anything, things that would make your skin crawl. But she can’t spare me from this.” Lucien gestured at the letter with his hand.

“Did you like growing up in the palace,” Elain asked after a pregnant pause.

Lucien softened slightly. “It was different. I spent most of my time avoiding my father, hiding out in the library, reading all the books on diplomacy I could find.”

“Were you close to your brothers?” Elain asked, thinking of Eris spending two months here instead of his own estate.

Lucien shook his head. “No, at least not when we were young. I was the last born, and I think they all knew I was different, resented that.”

Different because of his father Elain wondered who the man was, if the King was willing to raise his son as his own, let him inherit land instead of disowning him and hiding the whole thing.

“And you?” Lucien asked.

“My sisters,” Elain sighed, trying to think how to put in the words the tension that always seemed to exist in the cottage, and the love that ran stronger beneath it. “They’re very protective.”

Lucien nodded. She wondered if it wasn’t dissimilar for him. If Eris had traveled to help him with whatever his problem was, there couldn’t be that much animosity anymore.

“You know,” Lucien said, “I met your sister once.”

Elain perked up at that. “You did?”

“I was young, probably only eight or nine, and your father came to the palace to talk to our trade ambassadors. He brought Nesta along with him, in hopes of attracting one of my brothers.”

“Did it work?” Elain asked. She vaguely remembered, the year before her mother died, of their house being in disarray, of new dresses and jewels being brought in for her father’s journey to the palace, of a new governess being brought in to teach her and Nesta how to dance.

“She made quite the impression on Eris,” Lucien said. “The girl who didn’t seem impressed by him and his princely status. But your father’s ships sank before anything could ever come of it.”

Elain tried to imagine Nesta being married to Eris, of the bite marks being taken out of her neck, and shivered.

“Are you liking it here?” Lucien asked, changing the subject. “Vassa not being too hard on you?”

Elain chose her words carefully. “It’s…different…than I thought it would be.”

“Different good or different bad?”

“Just different.” She could tell Lucien wanted to ask more, didn’t know how to tell him that he was less scary than rumored in the village, less cruel. But still the fear lingered, of whatever him and Eris were, why they stayed in the dark.

She was spared answering by her spoon scraping the bottom of the bowl. Lucien seemed just as surprised as she was, Elain hadn’t realized how long they’d been sitting there.

“I’ll let you go now,” Lucien said, sounding regretful.

Elain quickly stood, dropping into a low curtsy. “Thank you your grace.”

“Lucien,” the Duke called after her as she hurried out of her study. Sunlight was starting to peek through the curtains on the windows in the hall, sending light scattering on the floor. Elain’s hands itched to throw one open, to let the light stream in while the sun rose, but she resisted. They were closed for a reason, even if that reason remained frustratingly elusive.

Kaisia was the only one awake when Elain returned, the other three of their dorm mates asleep in their beds. Kaisia was still in her day dress, a fresh bandage stuck on her neck.

“Late night?” she asked.

“I could say the same to you,” Elain said, pulling out her nightgown. “You’ve been gone a lot.”

Kaisia shrugged. “Vassa has no complaints.”

“Sure,” Elain said, pulling the nightgown over her head. “And you spending time with Eris has nothing to do with it.”

“I’m not doing anything you aren’t with Lucien.” Kaisia said, voice haughty.

Elain flushed hot. “I’m not doing anything other than my job.”

“And I’m doing mine,” Kaisia snapped.

“Fine,” Elain said. “Pretend that’s it. But don’t come asking for my help when it all goes wrong.”

Kaisia laughed. “Trust me Elain, I know much more about what I’m getting into then you do.”

“Maybe because you don’t tell me anything,” Elain snarled. She turned to fluff her pillow, hitting it hard with the palm of her hand. “Except you don’t want to, you just want to feel like you’re better than the rest of us. Well guess what, we’re all working in the same place.”

“For now,” Kaisia sneered. “Until you bat your pretty brown eyes and get Lucien to fix all your problems.”

“Fuck you,” Elain screamed, throwing her pillow at Kaisia.

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, grow up.” The pillow flew back across the room to Elain’s bed.

“Shut up, both of you,” yelled Yevah. “None of us want to hear it.”

Elain glared at Kaisia before blowing out the candle at her nightstand, plunging the room into darkness.

The two women danced around each other for the next couple days, Elain making sure she was never alone in a room with Kaisia. It meant Elain had even less people to talk to. The other three girls were nice enough, but they all worked in the laundry room and all the gossip they had to talk about never included anyone Elain knew.

Lucien had been her reprieve, sharing dinner with her every night. After that first dinner Vassa had started sending up two plates, one for each of them, even as she glared at Elain with clear disapproval every time she came to collect it.

“So,” Lucien said, when they were halfway through their plate of stewed beef and vegetables, “what exactly did you mean by different?”

Elain sighed, glancing at the closed window behind Lucien. “Truthfully? I miss the sun.”

Lucien cocked his head. “Really?”

“I had a garden, right outside our cottage. I would try to grow whatever food I could during the summer. Occasionally we’d get a few potatoes or such, but mostly it was nice to be out of the cottage, to feel useful.”

“I know what you mean,” Lucien said, leaning forward conspiratorially. “The King,” Lucien cleared his throat, “my father always kept night hours. As a child, I would sneak out while everyone was asleep, just sit in the gardens to have a few moments alone, soak in the sunlight. It was the only time I could escape…” Lucien trailed off and Elain chose not to call him out on the obvious lie. To ask why he would need to sneak away. “But you get used to it eventually.”

“If you like the sun so much, why not change things?”

“I’ve adapted,” Lucien said with a shrug. “And in many ways staying in the dark makes things easier. Less complicated.”

Elain shook her head. “I don’t think I’ll ever stop missing it.”

Lucien reached into his breast pocket to pull out a gold watch. He check the time, a grin breaking out across his face. A real one, not the half smiles he so often gave. It made him unfairly handsome, like the story book princes Elain had dreamed about. “Come on, then, we have some time.”

“Time for what?” Elain asked, taking Lucien’s offered hand. It was surprisingly warm, his grip firm as he tugged her out of her seat and through the study doors.

“You’ll see,” he said, dragging her through the halls. Elain had to run to keep up with his long strides, her slippers slapping against the floor. He practically bounced with every step, light in a way she’d never seen him. His eagerness made him look younger, and he seemed to shed the weariness he always had, the weight of the Duchy that lay heavy on his shoulders.

He ground to a halt in front of the doors that led out to the garden. Elain nearly slammed into him, bracing herself with a hand on his bicep.

“Here,” he said, throwing open the doors. The sun was just peeking out over the horizon, casting everything in a warm glow.

Elain stepped out onto the grass, steps hesitant. Lucien’s fingers slipped out of her grasp, letting her go. It didn’t feel real as brightness flooded the world, like it was all some cosmic joke being played on her, ready to be ripped away and plunge her back into darkness.

She could feel the warmth against her skin, chasing away the chill that seemed to linger no matter how deeply she burrowed into her bed, a symptom of the night.

The frozen grass crunched under her feet as she ventured further outside, into the gardens. In the light it was more beautiful than she’d imagined, the hedges a shade of bright emerald she didn’t think was possible, especially not in their cold little region.

Overhead, a streak of fire shot through the sky. She gasped, whirling around to look at Lucien, check if he’d seen it. “What was that?”

Lucien, still standing in the doorway, glanced up. “Vassa likes to have her fun.”

It wasn’t the strangest thing Elain had heard since she’d arrived, and she chose to let it go, save her questions for another day.

She held out a hand to Lucien. “You won’t join me?”

“Trust me, I would love nothing more,” Lucien said, ruefully, “but I can’t.”

“Oh,” Elain said. She didn’t know why it stung so much, why she cared, but it did. She wanted Lucien with her, to show her around the gardens.

Lucien must have sensed her hesitation. “Go on,” he said. “I’ll wait for you.”

Elain nodded. It was fine. She was going to enjoy this moment for all she could. She drifted further into the garden, down the winding path. She turned back at one point, to see if Lucien had changed his mind but he just waved her on.

It was still too cold for flowers to bloom but the garden was beautiful regardless. Hidden staircases led to several secret spots, smaller beds surrounded by hedges. Elain could imagine two lovers sneaking off to one, the idea so achingly romantic her heart fluttered.

In the middle of it all was a huge pond, the top still frozen over. The few birds that hadn’t flown south hovered around it, no doubt in search of something edible. Elain wished she had some scraps of bread to toss them.

Elain sat on one of the benches that surrounded the perimeter, listening to the slight titters of the birds. The manor felt very far away, the responsibilities and anxiety so foreign they couldn’t touch her.

Between her cloak and the puddle of sunshine she’d found, Elain was pleasantly warm, her eyelids growing heavy with exhaustion.

She didn’t know when she fell asleep, but Elain had a fuzzy memory of being pulled into strong arms, of a kiss pressed to her forehead. She woke up in her bed, tucked under the covers. She felt less chilled than usual, as if someone had heated the sheets before pulling them up over her.

That night was the full moon, their one night off that month. Elain sat huddled on the bed, back turned to Kaisia as the snarls and barks of whatever came sounded through the manor.

The room was silent, and Elain longed to talk to Kaisia, if only to distract herself, but she wouldn’t. Let the other girl apologize to her first.

The next snarl seemed to be closer, but no. That was just Elain’s mind playing tricks on her in the dark, making things scarier than they needed to be.

A howl rang out, louder than any of the other noises they’d heard. Echoing like it was in the hallway.

Elain sat up, her actions mirrored by Kaisia.

The two looked at each other, Elain seeing her own fear reflected in Kaisia’s face.

Another snarl. This one was definitely closer, sounding in Elain’s ears.

“What’s that?” Marcie asked.

“It’s just our minds playing tricks,” Kaisia said, her tone uncertain.

And then the bang sounded, as if something large had slammed into their door. The wood rattled, but held firm.

“Shit,” Kaisia said.

Another hit to the door. It seemed to shake more this time.

Elain swallowed. She didn’t want to know what was on the other side, what was so desperate to get to them.

Although she wasn’t sure if she was going to have a choice as a third hit had the wood buckling, splintering in parts.

There were shouts now, human voices swallowed up by the growling that rang in Elain’s ears.

“Please,” whimpered someone, Elain couldn’t say who.

Elain pulled her knees up to her chest, waiting for the inevitable.

The fourth strike was too much for the door to take. It flew off its hinges, shards flying into the room. The noise of it clattering to the floor was deafening, taking up too much of the small space.

Elain would have thought the animal was a wolf, if not for the bright red color of its fur, gleaming like flames in the glowing candle light. It was huge, easily the size of a small horse, and muscles shifted under its coat as it stalked towards them, teeth bared to show long, gleaming white fangs.

Someone was screaming, and it took Elain a second to realize it was her.

The animal swung its head, its eyes, one amber and one a shiny gold, locking in her as he prowled closer. He looked almost curious, that horrible growling stopping, if only for a moment.

“No,” shouted Eris as he ran into the room, a rope in hand. From one end hung a heavy metal hook, razor sharp at the end.

It drew the animal’s attention, his head swiveling to look at the lord.

“No,” Eris repeated, advancing slowly.

Vassa and Jurian followed him, both holding similar weapons.

The beast growled, the noise coming from deep in his throat.

Eris pounced, tossing the hook. The metal caught, sinking deep into the animal’s shoulder. He howled, bright red blood welling from the wound.

“Come on,” Eris growled, pulling on the rope.

The beast whimpered in pain but stood firm, resisting even as the hook dug in deeper.

Jurian crept along the wall, pulling something from his belt. A collar Elain realized after a second, a great black one with two rings attacked.

Eris gave a sharp tug on the rope at the same time Jurian lunged, wrapping the leather around the beast’s neck. Vassa followed him, hooking her rope into one of the rings while Jurian did the same.

The two of them pulled, while Eris dropped his own rope. The line went slack, the hook finally stopping its destructive path.

Elain didn’t know what inhuman strength Vassa and Jurian processed, but as they pulled onto rope the beast slid across the floor, claws gouging deep marks into the stone.

“Come,” Vassa grunted, sweat beading at her forehead.

The beast howled, thrashing violently against the grasp the two servants had on him. It was futile as he continued to be dragged, out of the room and into the hall. The sound of claws on stone was ear splitting as he fought against the bonds.

“Are you okay?” Eris asked, voice surprisingly gentle.

Elain startled, turning to stare at him. But his gaze was trained on Kaisia, who was trembling violently.

“I’m fine,” she choked out.

Eris nodded, shoulders slumping. “Good.”

“What was that,” demanded Yevah.

“None of your concern,” Eris said. His usual haughty tone was back, any sign of concern gone.

“It was in the manor,” Dacia said, her outrage evident. “It could have killed us.”

“A one time occurrence, I assure you,” Eris said. “You’ll all be given the week off as compensation.”

“But—“ Yevah started but Eris had already stormed out of the room, shutting what little remained of the door behind him.

Elain nearly leapt out of her skin when she felt the arm wrap around her, before realizing it was Kaisia. She was still trembling, her whole body shivering. Elain pulled her into a tight embrace.

“I didn’t know,” Kaisia whispered. “I promise I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay,” Elain said.

“I would have told you if I did,” Kaisia insisted. “All I knew about was Eris and his brothers.”

“I know,” Elain assured her. “I know.”

The two of them stayed like that for hours, holding each other for comfort, until the sound of the beast had faded with the dawn.

Jurian was waiting for her the next day, his arms crossed over his chest as he paced the hallway. He flashed Elain a sympathetic smile as she stepped out, cloak clutched tightly around her.

He offered her an elbow. “I’m here to take you home.”

Elain gave him a watery smile as she took it, letting him lead her out to the waiting carriage. It was the same one that had taken her to the manor, far grander than the three waiting for the other women. Kaisia had declared she’d be staying, prompting a loud argument with Vassa what was settled when Eris came down and said Kaisia would be staying with him for the week. Kaisia’s glare made it clear he had not discussed it with her prior but she hadn’t refused, not when her alternative was going back to her brother.

Jurian helped her up, and then they were off, back down the same road they came in on. Elain chose to ignore Vassa watching them leave, waving at Jurian until they were out of sight.

“You doing alright?” Jurian asked. “Need anything?”

Elan turned away from the window, where she’d been watching the dark trees pass. “I don’t know.” It was an honest answer. Even if she did know how she felt, she doubted Jurian would be able to do anything to help.

The rest of the ride passed in silence, Elain lost in thought as she tried to figure out what she could tell her sisters, how she could explain what had happened over the past months.

She still hadn’t figured it out when the carriage came to a halt, back in front of her cottage. Jurian swung open the door and helped her down.

“Remember what I told you the first night. If you need me, I’m there. I’ll be with my mother down the road.

Elain managed to give him a weak grin of thanks, and then he was gone, leaving her alone.

A winter of snow had not been kind to the cottage. One of the window shutters had fallen off and the roof seemed to be sagging in the middle, more so than she remembered.

The door swung open on Elain’s first knock. Feyre, wearing the same nightgown she had been when Elain left, gasped. She pulled Elian into a tight hug and Elain couldn’t help but notice how prominent Feyre’s ribs felt, how she was barely more than skin and bones.

“You’re here,” Feyre cried.

“Who’s here?” The voice of their father sounded thin, and Elain lifted her head to see him sitting by the fire on the same cot he dragged out every night to sleep on.

“I’m home,” Elain said, stepping into the light of the cabin.

“Elain,” her father gasped, rising on shaky feet. Elain rushed to him, pulling him into a tight hug. “I’ve missed you, darling,” he said, burying a hand in her hair.

She stepped back to see Nesta waiting. “You’re back.” Not a question, but a statement of fact.

“The Duke gave me the week off,” Elain explained.

“And then he’ll whisk you back off in the middle of the night?”

“Lucien keeps night time hours,” Elain explained.

Nesta arched an eyebrow. “He’s Lucien to you?”

Elain felt her cheeks warm. “We’ve talked.”

Nesta snorted, turning back to the bedroom.

“Don’t take it personally,” Feyre whispered. “She’s upset because she’s agreed to marry Thomas Mandray.”

“What?” Elain asked. She remembered Thomas, the way his eyes always seemed to linger too long on the breasts of women in town, how he always seemed to accidentally bump into certain parts of her body.

“More collectors came, and Thomas’ father was willing to pay a dowry for her,” Feyre said. “It covered some of what we owed.”

“And the rest?”

“I’ll figure it out,” Feyre said, even as her voice trembled. “I can sell some furs, it’ll be fine.”

Elain knew from experience that Feyre’s furs never went as far as they hoped. No one in the village had enough money to pay what they were worth, and even if they did, a single woman was easy to take advantage of. But she nodded and let herself be pulled into the bedroom. Lay nestled between Nesta and Feyre, back where she belonged.

That morning everything felt slightly wrong. They went through their usual routine, Feyre making a watery porridge she spooned into the bowls as they all sat together at the table and ate. Nesta talked about her upcoming marriage with feigned enthusiasm, bragged about how happy she would be once she was out of the house, how Feyre would finally have time to herself to paint.

Elain listened mutely, forcing down the food even as it tasted like ash in her mouth. She couldn’t help but feel guilty that she was there, one more person for Feyre to feed, especially when Elain saw how little was in the cupboard, just a few pieces of dried meat left from when Feyre was able to hunt in the fall.

“We should go to the market,” Feyre said. “Get stuff for your wedding.”

Nesta agreed and Elain followed them out of the house with a waved goodbye to their father. She couldn’t help but notice how light the coin purse looked in Feyre’s hands, how little they had. Felt guilty with how fine her own cloak was in comparison to her sisters’ threadbare garments.

“What do you think of this one?” Feyre asked, holding up a scrap of lace from one of the stalls.

“It’s nice,” Elain said. It was, but plain. And another sigh of what awaited Nesta. A life of misery, of forcing herself to be smaller, lesser, so as never to overstep her husband.

“Get it,” Nesta said, voice brisk. “It’s the cheapest they have.”

Feyre handed over a coin in exchange for a length. One less coin they had to feed themselves.

“So what’s it like?’ Feyre asked as they walked through the stalls, looking at wares they could never dream of affording. “The Duke’s house?”

“It’s huge,” Elain said. “Bigger than ours ever was.”

“And the Duke?” Nesta asked, tone mocking. “Is he nice and kind and handsome?”

Elain’s cheeks burned. “He is handsome.”

Nesta huffed. “Probably why you’re so eager to go back.”

“I—“ Elain started, desperate to defend herself, but before she could, a shout of Nesta’s name interrupted them.

“Nesta,” called Thomas, lumbering over to where they were.

The glare Nesta gave him was lethal, loathing written clear across her face. Thomas ignored it as he slithered a possessive hand around her waist, pulling her tightly against him. His fingers drifted up, to brush the underside of her breasts.

“How is my wife?”

“I’m not your wife yet,” Nesta snarled, stepping out of his grip. “Not for another month.”

Thomas leered down at her. “Or sooner, if the debtors come calling.”

Elain averted her gaze, staring determinedly at a silver necklace hanging from a mannequin in one of the stalls.

Feyre managed to detangle them, claiming she needed both their help for dinner, and they were out of the market. Nesta rubbed her waist, as if trying to erase the feel of Thomas’ hands on her.

Dinner passed in tense silence, her father asking how the market went as Nesta and Feyre carefully avoided mention of Thomas. Elain hurried off to bed as soon as she could, followed quickly by Nesta and Feyre. Her stomach felt empty, more empty than it has since she went to the manor. It’s a feeling she hadn’t missed.

And lying in bed that night, listening to Feyre’s stomach grumble and Nesta’s silent tears she muffled with the pillow, Elain knew she couldn’t go back to Lucien, not while her sisters had to stay in the cottage.

She slid out of bed, quietly pulling on clothes.

“Where are you going?” Nesta asked, sitting up slightly.

“I have a friend I promised to see,” Elain whispered, slipping out the door before Nesta could ask any more questions. Thankfully Nesta didn’t follow.

The walk down to the cabin Jurian indicated was a short one, the path muddy from the recently melted snow. The door swung open at the first knock, almost as if Jurian was waiting for her.

“What do you need?” No beating around the bush then.

“Take me back,” Elain said.

Jurian’s brows shot up. “That bad?”

“Please,” Elain begged. “I need to go back and talk to Lucien.”

The manor was the same as it had been when she’d left, still covered in the same layer of snow. Jurian had needed to call for a carriage, so it had taken a full day of waiting, and the sun setting as they pulled in front of the servant’s entrance.

“Thank you,” Elain said, dashing out of the carriage before Jurian could help her down. She practically ran down the hall, to the servant’s wing.

The household was just stirring, people moving between the bathing chambers and their quarters. Even Vassa wasn’t awake yet, the spot she usually occupied left empty.

Elain sighed in relief, striding into the kitchen. Lucien’s tray was already on the counter, ready to be loaded with his breakfast items. Elain wracked her brain, trying to remember what he usually had.

Tea. She needed to brew him a pot of tea.

Elain gave a silent thanks to whoever had left the stove lit as she filled a pot with water and hung it to heat. The bread hadn’t been baked yet, so yesterday’s was going to have to do, as was the half used jar of jam left in the cupboard.

Assembly was easy enough, the dishes sitting stacked neatly in a pile.

Elain carried the tray back up through familiar halls, trying to keep her hands steady, even as nerves coiled in her stomach.

It was all a bad idea. She had no way of knowing if Lucien wanted to see her, if he’d even be willing to help her, but she had no other options.

Her knock on the study door was met with silence.

Elain cursed. Lucien probably wasn’t even awake yet, much less ready—

“You’re back.” Eris looked down at her, head cocked in confusion, from the crack in the door.

“Is your brother there?” Elain asked.

Eris turned around. “Is he?”

Lucien must have given some signal because Eris swung the door open wider. “You can come in.”

Elain gave a whispered thanks as she entered. Lucien was still in his nightshirt, the fabric short enough to show off his legs. Elain blushed at the sight. She knew he was muscled but seeing it…

“Elain—“ Lucien said, rising to his feet. He looked awful, the beginnings of a beard dotting his jaw and purplish bruises heavy under his eyes. “You came back?”

Elain swallowed. “The debt was not yet paid.” Not the full truth, but the most she would say with Eris standing behind her.

“Jurian didn’t tell you?” At Elain’s blank expression Lucien sighed. “Your debts are paid. You’re free to go.”

“All of them?” But no, that didn’t make sense. Why else would Nesta need to marry Thomas than for money.

“The ones I know about.”

The tray in Elain’s hands felt like a weight. “There’s more. More than either of us knew about.” More reasons she’d have to stay.

“Fuck,” Lucien muttered. He looked over Elain’s shoulder. “Eris, get out.”

“But I’m invested,” Eris drawled.

“Eris.” Lucien’s tone left no room for questioning.

Elain heard the door shut behind her, even as she kept her eyes trained on Lucien.

“Fuck, Elain. How did it get this bad?”

“I don’t know.” An honest answer.

Lucien advanced towards her, lifted the tray out of her hands and tossed it unceremoniously onto the desk. The teacup shattered at the force but Lucien didn’t even flinch.

“I need you to save my sisters,” Elain said. “I’ll do anything, anything you ask. I’ll work for you until I die.” She was ready to beg on her knees, she didn’t care. Anything to see Nesta freed from a life with Thomas, Feyre no longer needing to hunt.

“I’m not a man you should offer anything to,” Lucien said, even as he came closer.

Elain’s eyes narrowed. She took in Lucien’s eyes, one gold and one russet, just like she’d seen that night. How Kaisia said he was different, how the King hated him.

“You’re the beast, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

And there it was, all laying in that one devastating word.

“How?”

Lucien groaned, collapsing back into the chair in front of his desk. “What do you know?”

“You’re not the King’s son.” Elain said.

Lucien gave a bitter laugh. “That pretty much sums it up. My mother met Helion. King of Pelas,” he added at Elain’s confused expression. “Right before she married Beron. She wanted to run away, marry him instead but her family wouldn’t allow it. They kept in contact though, exchanging letters. Until a year before I was born, when Helion came as an official delegate.

“I looked different from the moment I was born, but no one wanted to say anything, not when it would offend two kings. Cleaning up that war would be too difficult.” Lucien shrugged. “So here I am, too difficult to get rid of, stuck in the worst duchy of the kingdom while the King makes my life a nightmare.”

“Does Helion know?” Elain asked.

Lucien leaned over the desk, sliding open a drawer and pulling out a stack of letters. “I told him once I was of age.”

“Then why stay? If you hate the dark, hate this place…”

“When my mother’s ready,” Lucien said fiercely. “And not a day sooner.” Lucien dropped the stack of papers down on the desk and slumped in his seat. “So now you know everything you need to ruin me.”

“I told you, all I want is for you to save my sisters. You can’t if you’re ruined.”

“So that’s your offer, my secrets for your sisters?”

“I told you, I’d do anything.”

Lucien groaned, the sound coming from somewhere deep in his throat. “That’s a very dangerous thing to offer me, Elain. Because there’s a great number of things I want to do with you.”

Elain bit her lip. They were edging into dangerous territory now, more than any of their other conversations. “I thought that was why you bought me. So you could do what you want.”

“I bought you so no one else could,” Lucien said. “I know what the people who buy children do to them. Trust me, you’re happier working for a monster than whoever your father was going to sell you to.”

“My father’s about to do the same to Nesta, trade her to the highest bidder. And then there will be more debts and he’ll turn to Feyre.” Because there would always be more debtors, more people her father had made deals with and then failed to pay back, all to fund his ridiculous fraud of his lifestyle.

“You know what I am and you still want my help?”

Elain met his eyes, the shame burning in his gaze. “You could have killed me in that room and you didn’t. You can’t be that much of a monster.”

Luciens voice was dark when he spoke. “Trust me, I every much can be.”

Elain took a step towards him. “Prove it.”

The smile that spread across Lucien’s face was predatory, belonging to the beast that lurked within him. “Marry me and I’ll help you.”

“That’s your conditions? My hand in marriage to save my sisters from the same fate?”

“You could always tell everyone you now I’m a hideous monster. It might make me more cooperative.”

Elain scoffed, taking another step towards him. “Like they’d ever believe me.”

Lucien met her eye, staring at her like she was his prey and he was a hunter. “I trust you can be very persuasive when they want to be.”

Elain looked him over, the red hair falling around his shoulders, the handsome face. And then she sat in his lap, legs straddling either side of his waist.

“Deal.”

Lucien reached up, brushing a hand along her jaw. “I think we should seal it with a kiss.”

“Not a handshake?” Elain asked, but she leaned forward, gently pressing her lips against his. They were surprisingly soft, and Lucien opened to her, let her tongue sweep past his lips. He tasted of spice and cinnamon, something just on the edge of burning her.

Lucien kissed like he was starving, like he wanted to devour her. His hands reached up to hold her in place, grip tight along her waist. Elain’s hands ran along his back, fingers reaching under his nightshirt to reach warm skin.

“Gods,” Lucien murmured, breaking away from her mouth to kiss a line down her neck, nipping and sucking his way down.

Elain whimpered when he found a particularly sensitive spot. She could feel her thighs dampening with arousal. She’d been a few boys in the village before but nothing had felt quite as exciting as just kissing Lucien did.

The noise seemed to spur Lucien on, his lips teasing at the top of her dress, one hand reaching up to brush along her breasts. The touch had Elain’s nipples pebbling under the fabric and she arched into his touch.

“Careful,” Lucien groaned. “We have to save it for the wedding night.”

Elain pouted. “Do you plan on backing out?”

“Never,” Lucien snarled. “But I won’t have anyone accusing me of being anything less than a perfect Lord.”

Elain’s fingers played with the collar of his shirt, working the button undone.“I don’t even have a ring,”

“I gave you one,” Lucien protested. “But I can get you another. Any type you want, say the word and I’ll find it.”

“No. That one’s perfect.”

“Good.” And then Lucien’s lips were back on hers. His hand reached under her ass to lift her up, placing her on the desk with something close to reverence.

Even while sitting, Lucien towered above her and Elain had to tilt his head back to meet his mouth. Her hands reached down, to the base of his nightshirt, and pulled it up and off.

She was met with the sight of warm brown skin and hard earned muscles dusted with fine red hair. Her hands ran up Lucien’s shoulders, down his stomach.

Lucien groaned at her touch, pulling her closer.

“There’s lots of things we can do that will keep your maidenhood intact,” he whispered, pulling away from her to bend at the knees.

“What—” Elain asked. Lucien ran his hands up her calves, pulling her dress up as he moved up her legs. He ripped her undergarments away, throwing them unceremoniously in a pile behind him.

Lucien delved under her skirts and Elain caught a glance of a wound on his shoulder, jagged and half healed.

She sat up, brushing a finger along it.

“Is that from—”

“It’s fine,” Lucien murmured. “It happens.”

Now that she was looking, Elain could see several scars flecking Lucien’s otherwise smooth back, little holes and gashes long healed over.

“Is this your life? Always worried something will happen, the beast will break out?”

Lucien shrugged. “Helion says it gets easier once you’ve settled, have a person to protect. He said he was never calmer than when he was with my mother.”

Elain read the implication in his words. She was his person now. The thought made something melt deep in her chest.

“Now please,” Lucien begged, pulling her skirts up around her hips. “I want to taste my wife.”

“I’m not your wife yet—” Elain started, but the rest of her sentence was cut off by a moan as Lucien licked a stripe up her seam. Her hips nearly bucked off the desk as he did it again and Lucien chuckled, placing one hand on her stomach to keep her still. The width of his palm spanned near across her, squeezing with comforting pressure.

He continued his assault on her folds, tongue playing with her entrance as his other hand reached up, thumb rolling over the sensitive bundle of nerves at the top of Elain’s thighs.

The whimpers he managed to pull from her would have been embarrassing if it hadn’t felt so good. Elain felt pleasure build at the base of her spine. Her stomach tightened, her inner muscles clenching against her will.

“There you go,” Lucien groaned. “Come on my face, make sure everyone in the manor knows you’re mind.”

He punctuated the words with a particularly hard flick of her clit that had Elain whimpering. “Lucien,” she panted.

“You’re going to be a Lady,” Lucien continued, as if she hadn’t said anything. “And Ladies do what they’re told.”

Elain nodded, clutching the edge of her desk as Lucien’s tongue finally breached her entrance, darting into her.

“Please,” she whined. “I’m so close.”

“I know you are, love. You can do it.” Lucien rolled his thumb harder over her clit and the stimulation had Elain falling over the edge, pleasure shooting through her so hard she saw stars.

“Good girl,” Lucien said, riding her though the high. “You did so well for me.”

Elain’s chest glowed at the praise. She reached down, a hand on Lucien’s jaw as she pulled him up for a messy kiss. Lucien tasted slightly salty, tasted of her and it only made Elain more aroused, her legs wrapping around Lucien’s hips.

The knocking at the door stopped them from going any further.

“Are you quite done?” shouted Eris through the wood.

Elain flushed hot at the idea of Eris knowing what they’d been doing but Lucien just chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek before yelling back, “why do you care about it.”

“I’ll tell father you’re marrying a peasant,” Eris taunted.

Lucien groaned. “What do I have to give you for you to not do that?”

Eris made a play of thinking about it, letting them sit in silence for a moment. Elain tried to even out her breathing, really hoped Eris couldn’t hear her through the wood.

“You know what I want.”

“Fine,” Lucien shouted. ‘You can take Kaisia back with you. But you’re on your own if you want to convince her to marry you.”

“I will,” Eris answered. “And congratulations.”

Lucien just rolled his eyes, leaning down to kiss Elain again.

The wedding took place a month later.

Elain knew it would have been sooner but a month was the quickest the seamstresses could get the dress done, and Lucien had reluctantly agreed to wait.

It was worth it, Elain decided, as she brushed hand down the front of the yellow velvet. The dress seemed to sparkle, glowing like she was the sun.

“You look beautiful,” Feyre said, hugging her for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

Elain tried not to cry, even as tears welled up. Lucien had ordered Jurian to bring her family to the manor as soon as they emerged from the study, effectively ending Nesta’s engagement to Thomas.

Not that Nesta was complaining as she took Feyre’s spot, wrapping her arms around Elain. “I’m happy for you,” he whispered.

Nesta pulled back, straightening. “Now let's go, Lucien won’t be kept waiting.”

Elain snorted. Lucien would wait as long as he needed to, she was sure, but she was just as eager as him. Elain knew what the crowd thought, all the Lords and Ladies who had come to spectate, hundreds of people Elain had been introduced to over the past week and then promptly forgotten about. That she was pregnant, and this was Lucien atoning for his mistakes.

They were wrong, at least as far as Elain knew. Although Lucien had been hilariously bad at sticking to his promise to keep her pure for her wedding day. Not that Elain had helped much, guiding his length right where it needed to be.

Elain flushed at the memory, raising the bouquet in her hands to cover her small smile at the thought.

Feyre linked arms with Elain on one side, Nesta on the other, as they led her down to the aisle. She’d opted not to have her father walk her down. He’d already given her away to the Duke in his own way, sold her to pay his debts.

He was sitting in the front row though, next to Eris and Kaisia. Her friend gave a small smile and waved, and Elain beamed back. They hadn’t had more than a few minutes to see each other, not while Elain was busy trying to plan things, but Kaisia looked happy. Elain chose to ignore the high neckline of her dress, what that meant. Besides, Kaisia was pretty enough to make it a new fashion statement, especially if she did end up married to Eris.

Lucien was waiting for her at the end of the aisle and Elain’s breath caught in her throat as she took him in. He’d tied his auburn hair back, the color contrasting beautifully against the green suit jacket and brown pants he wore.

His smile was so bright it cracked something in her chest.

“Don’t cry,” Nesta whispered and Elain laughed. Her sisters dropped her arms and she stepped forward to take Lucien’s hands.

If asked to recount her vows later, Elain never would be able to. All she could remember is the way Lucien looked at her, and the happiness burning bright in her chest.

Elain sat at the dinner table later, head resting on Lucien’s shoulder as he gently ran a hand through her hair.

They’d been forced to cede the head to the King and Queen, not that Elain minded much. Being off to the side allowed Lucien to get rather creative with where he placed his hand, resting higher on her thigh that was socially acceptable.

Helion sat across from them, one of several Kings who’d made the journey. King Rhysand, having come south from his own lands, seemed deep in conversation with Feyre and Elain smirked at the sight. She might not be the last Archeron married off to royalty.

“Congratulations,” Helion said, raising his wine glass in toast. Lucien lifted his own, tapping the rims gently.

They drank, a silent understanding between two people who were more related than anyone could guess.

“We should start dancing,” Elain muttered.

“Do you want to dance or do you want everyone distracted?” Lucien teased.

“Why can’t I want both?”

Lucien laughed, but stood, signaling the small quartet in the corner to start up a lively waltz. He pulled Elain up, leading her onto the dance floor.

His hands settled lightly on her waist, the picture of propriety as he spun her around. Others quickly joined them, Helion leading Lucien’s mother out.

Off in the corner, Vassa was directing Jurian through the steps.

“Vassa dances very well for a housekeeper,” Elain said.

Lucien turned, catching sight. “Vassa was raised to be a lady. She liked gambling a bit too much in her free time and her sisters didn’t feel like paying for it, so they shipped her off to be married to Lord Korsechi. I offered her a job if she left and she accepted. Plus,” Lucien leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially in her ear, “our nighttime hours work quite well for her problem.”

The fact that Kosechi had cursed her to turn into a firebird by day, something Lucien had confided in her.

“And thus started your life of rescuing fair maidens?” Elain asked.

“It worked out well for you, didn’t it?”

Elain hummed. “Hopefully it works out for Jurian too.”

Lucien growled, tugging her closer. “I don’t want you talking about another man on our wedding night.”

Elain rolled her eyes, if only to hide her smile.

The song ended, the audience clapping politely. Lucien rested his hand on Elain’s back and led them over to his mother, still standing besides Helion.

“You look happy,” Lucien said.

Cait Vanserra smiled. “Now that you’re settled, and Eris is on his way, I think it might be my turn to find something else to occupy my time.”

“It’s time,” Lucien said.

Elain pretended not to notice the way Lady Vanserra’s hand drifted to the knife hanging from her belt, the handle the same as the ones they’d been eating dinner with.

“Now go,” Helion said. “I’m sure you have better things to do than hang out with us.”

Lucien didn’t need to be told twice, grabbing Elain’s hand and practically dragging her out of the ball room.

“I think we might be moving soon,” Elain commented mildly. “Somewhere warmer.”

“I don’t care where we go,” Lucien said gruffly. He swung open a door, one Elain recognized as leading into the library, and hauled Elain into him. His hand wrapped around her hair, left long and curling down her back, and angled her head up.

There lips met in a hungry kiss. Lucien’s free hand drifted down to the back of Elain’s thighs and then he was pulling her up, her legs wrapping around her waist as her back hit the wall.

Lucien’s hips ground against hers and Elain could feel the growing bulge in his pants, a sign of his desire for her.

“I love you,” Lucien groaned against her mouth.

Elain nipped at his lower lip. “I love you too.”

Lucien’s hand loosened his grip on her hair. “We should go back to my room,” he said, even as he reached around her to start untying the laces of Elain’s dress. “Anyone could walk in on us.”

“It’s your house, my lord,” Elain said, fingers undoing the first of Lucien’s jacket buttons. “I think we can do what we want in any of the rooms.”

“My Lord,” Lucien muttered. “I don’t think I want you to call me anything but that.”

Elain laughed, still working her way down his jacket. She undid the final button and Lucien slipped out of it, leaving him in nothing but a thin cotton shirt.

He finally managed to get her laces undone, pulling the dress down to expose her breasts. “I love these,” he muttered, leaning down to take one of her nipples into his mouth.

“Not nearly as much as you love other parts of me,” Elain gasped, arching into his touch.

“True, there’s nothing I love are than your cunt,” Lucien said and Elain slapped at his chest.

“That’s foul,” she complained, but Lucien just laughed, tugging gently on her nipple. Elain moaned, hands pulling at the ties on Lucien’s pants.

She got them undone, and roughly shoved his pants down his legs. Her hand wrapped around his cock, pumping once

“Eager?” Lucien asked.

“Gods, shut up,” Elain said, placing her hands on each of Lucien’s cheeks and pulling him up for another kiss.

Lucien met her lips greedily, one hand sliding between her thighs. He moaned at the slick he felt there, her own arousal making itself known.

He ground against her once, but Elain was done. She reached down, guiding his penis to her entrance. Lucien thrust into her and Elain screamed at the pleasure, at the feeling of him, of her husband, filling her.

“I love you,” Lucien panted, rolling his hips into her. Elain met him stroke for stroke, grinding against him.

“You said,” Elain said, her voice breathless.

“I wanted to make sure you knew,” Lucien said, punctuating his words with a flick of her clit.

Elain tightened her legs around his hips, puling him impossibly closer. The new angle had Lucien hitting the sensitive spot inside her, the one that inevitably led to her falling apart in his arms.

Pressure was building along Elain’s spine, dragging her closer. If Lucien’s shuddering breaths were any indication he was just as close.

Elain threaded her fingers through his hair, tangling the long, auburn strands. He buried his head in the crook of her neck, pressing a hot, opened mouth kiss against her skin, biting down lightly.

“Lucien I’m going to—“

“Yes,” Lucien cried, “yes, yes.” His pace was brutal, hips slamming against hers, the sound of skin on skin obscene in the otherwise silent library. “Come for me, wife.”

The word was Elain’s breaking point, pleasure cresting over her as she came. Lucien followed with a sharp slap of his hips, his release emptying into her.

Lucien waited until he was spent to slowly let her slide back down to the floor. Elain’s legs felt shaky beneath her and Lucien wrapped a hand around her waist, supporting her.

“I think,” Lucien said, pressing his lips against her cheek in a quick kiss. “That we should take this to the marital bed.”

“It might be more comfortable,” Elain agreed. She shrieked as Lucien hoisted her into his arms, bridal style.

“Then let me.”

Lucien kept her up for the rest of the night, until Elain could see sunlight just peaking out through the curtains.

She rose from the bed, throwing Lucien’s long abandoned shirt on to cover herself before she padded over to the window.

“May I?” she asked.

Lucien lifted a head from where he lay strewn out on the bed. “You can do whatever you please in your own house,” he declared fiercely.

It was all the confirmation she needed to throw the shutters open, light shining into their bedroom. She turned back around and gasped.

Lucien seemed to be glowing, the shine faint but undeniable.

“How—”

“Another gift from Helion,” Lucien said, rising up. His dark skin looked golden, shining and reflective. “His whole court apparently glows in the sun.”

Elain sat in his lap, wrapping her arms loosely around his neck. “I guess it’s lucky you were born in a court that only goes out at night.”

“I’m lucky I found someone willing to coax me into the light,” Lucien said.

And that’s how the two of them approached their first day as husband and wife, wrapped in each other’s arms.

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