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animezinglife · 6 months

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Secrets in the Night

If there's anything Elain has learned during her time in Prythian, it's that some secrets are best kept hiding in plain sight.

Genre: Romance/Fluff/What-If? Post-canon Elucien ficlet with a small dash of Regencycore. More Elucien fics can be found through my masterlist or on AO3. As always, I want to give a shout-out to @lucienarcheron, @zenkindoflove, and everyone else who's been so supportive of these small, humble fics. You've all helped make writing fun for me again, and I sincerely appreciate it!

Everything about this crowd is alive. From the colorful dresses of the females to the glittering lights hovering above and illuminating the rooms, everything about this Solstice celebration that doubles as Feyre's birthday gathering is stunning. There’s a vibrant hum from the crowd as Elain smiles and weaves through them, trying to keep the way her eyes wander subtle.

She feels him near before she sees him.

Hears his heartbeat through these walls, echoing through her body as if it were her own.

She doesn’t need to follow the sound. Not for long.

She’s shrouded in his scent–that familiar blend of embers, earth, and cinnamon–before he even speaks.

“Good evening, Lady.” His voice is a low timbre that echoes through her, and she feels a hint of heat prickling at her cheeks and core. She turns, her skirts swishing in the process as she takes in his form. Mother, he is devastating: part of his molten hair is pulled back at the crown, with the rest flowing over the collar of his finely-tailored jacket in a cascade of red silk. It’s a sharp, fiery contrast to the dark green of the jacket, and the subtle golden thread woven at the collar and cuffs seems to only enhance the gold and russet of his eyes.

“Lucien.” There’s a knowing gleam in those eyes as he offers her a slight, courtly bow. She gives an equal curtsy in response, entranced by the way the corners of his mouth twitch upward and curve into a smile.

The bond hums between them, pulsing so loudly in her mind she thinks surely others must hear it. Yet all around them the Night Court’s guests carry on with their evening, laughing and drinking and chattering without notice.

Of course, Elain knows both she and her mate know better: know it’s rare that Feyre and Rhys aren’t aware of everything happening within their own walls. They know that Nesta is always watching like a hawk, and that Azriel has eyes–and spies–everywhere. Nothing hides in the shadows here.

She’s been cautious where Lucien is concerned–there are no secrets there, not truly. They’ve simply mixed some truths while not divulging others, and as far as either of her sisters know–as far as Elain can tell–they’ve grown to accept that she’s no longer willing to let the circumstances of their mating bond control her. She's told them as much. That if her mate must be present to discuss courtly matters or join them for a holiday, she’ll have no real objections to it.

Though that, of course, is only a small fraction of the story.

As the two of them have gotten to know each other, she’s begun to understand why Feyre had been so skeptical initially, and why her own instincts had both pulled her to him with all their strength and why she’d fought against them equally hard.

Lucien Vanserra is a good male.

He offers her a hand–a bit formally, she notes–and she takes it carefully, letting him pull her into his strong frame. A memory floods through her all at once then: of him doing the same during their recent visit to the Court of Nightmares; of how those awful carvings on the walls and suffocating darkness of the ballroom seemed to disappear when there was only the music and him before her. She had clutched his hand tightly; relished at the warm, strong hand at her back as he’d led her through one waltz then another; some flashier, more aggressive style she’d known she would’ve been lost on without his lead.

She inhales deeply as they begin to sway in something similar to a waltz, remembering how his warmth and familiar scent had grounded her during that visit; kept her tethered to the music and their dance despite the unease she’d felt every single time she’d stepped inside that dreadful place.

How he'd made her feel safe.

He’s entirely too easy to be drawn to, she thinks. That still unfamiliar voice, partly from the bond and partly of her own admission, murmurs an addition in the back of her mind.

Entirely too easy to love.

“Are you enjoying your evening?” he asks her, and carefully meets his gaze.

“I am,” she admits, a part of her surprised by the honesty of that statement. “You look nice.”

His lips twitch again at that, and her heart flutters as his eyes briefly skim over her. “You look nice yourself, Lady,” he teases, and despite herself, she smiles back.

Elain is suddenly aware of at least one set of eyes watching over them, and as if recognizing the same, Lucien shifts and guides her so that she knows her back is to their onlooker. Her voice drops low–so low that she wonders if he can even hear her over the music. “Who is it this time?” she whispers.

“Both your sister and the Shadowsinger,” he replies equally softly, and her blush deepens slightly at how carefully he sets his mouth when he speaks, as if barring both from reading his lips. “No doubt trying to make sure I don’t steal you away or ravish you right here in the middle of the party.”

“We certainly can’t have that,” she replies, giving his hand a light, knowing squeeze. Heat pools in the pit of her stomach as she surprises even herself as she continues, “Besides, I have very particular tastes.”

"So I've learned."

His thumb traces down the side of her hand slightly, and his eyes gleam as she’s certain the same memory flickers through him. He sends a caress down the bond and, though she doesn’t return it fully, gives him a playful tug through it. Mother, she thinks as heat floods through her and the gleam in his eyes turn nothing short of flame. He might as well take her in the middle of the party for all that look implies, and she realizes–senses–that she no longer feels Nesta’s or Azriel’s focus on her either. The feeling of his fingertips tracing down her spine confirms it, and she relishes the heat she feels from them even through the layers she wears.

It’s a risk, she thinks, the way he’s looking at her now. A look she knows she’s returning whether intentionally or not.

Part of her wants to snake her arms around him: relish in his touch, scent, and taste. That she were ready to act as freely with him under her sister’s roof as she does outside it and among the other courts even when she and Lucien aren't alone. Her thoughts drift to the rolling meadows of Spring; the private, heated moments they’d stolen together in Day.

By the look in his eyes and feeling of his heart pounding so near her own, he’s thinking of them too.

Elain knows whatever act they’ve been putting on won’t last long at this rate, and when the song draws to a close, she takes a step back, and they end in a polite curtsy and bow. She separates from him completely, not bothering to conceal her blush as she turns her attention pointedly to a floral arrangement in a nearby vase. When his eyes follow hers she turns, and as the distance between them grows, she sends another tug down the bond.

One that asks him to follow.

She weaves through the crowds again, knowing none will question it. There was a time when she would have wanted to hide from the bond; what it made her feel around Lucien. There had been times when she had begun warming up to him when it still overwhelmed her, and she needed to spend time in her gardens to think.

This, she knows, will appear to be no exception.

She’s already wandered through the garden’s neat rows once when he manages to discreetly slip away and join her. She listens carefully: hears nothing beyond the trickling of the water fountain and the sounds of the party inside the estate. Hears nothing but his heartbeat and the way it syncs with her own.

Confident they’re alone, she closes the remaining distance between them and kisses him, letting out a small, relieved hum as his hand gently rests beneath her chin. Hers find his chest, feeling the elegant fabric of his jacket before sliding over his shoulders. He pulls her closer with his free hand, his other finding the curve of her neck and tracing her jawline with his thumb.

She savors this secret kiss: gentle and lingering no matter how much it makes her want more. Crave more.

Though it’s neither the time nor the place, and when they finally separate, she lets out a soft, shaky breath.

It’s like a dream, she thinks as she forces her eyes to slowly flutter open. She takes him in in the moonlight: the red hair, striking beauty, and warm, clever eyes. Breathes in the cool night air and the gardens and him.

He extends an arm to her, and she loops hers through his. As they begin to walk through the garden together, she finds herself relaxing more with each and every step. While warmth floods through her at his nearness and everywhere they still touch, so does a sense of peace, and she smiles to herself.

She knows their secret will come out eventually, and she’ll be ready when it does. There’s still one left that even Lucien doesn’t know, and it’s one she plans to share with him soon.

One that she’s already spent countless days and nights alike thinking about. One that’s led to her jotting notes down in her favorite recipe books, and one that she’s come to accept at her own pace.

For now, all she needs is this.

#elucien #elucien fics #elucien ficlet #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #secrets in the night #wyseinkworks #elucien fanfiction #elain x lucien #lucien x elain #acotar ficlets #just had this in my head and wanted to try something different

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animezinglife · 5 months

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The Song of Spring

With party preparations underway, Elain and Lucien spend a quiet moment together in Spring.

Genre: Romance/Fluff with a fairytale vibe. Post-canon Elucien ficlet with a sprinkle of Spring healing. As always, special thanks to @lucienarcheron, @zenkindoflove, @crazy-ache, and all of you who continue to make the Elucien sphere of the internet such a fun, welcoming place. I hope this brings a smile to your face as we move into the weekend. Elucien Masterlist | AO3

Elain wasn’t sure how much time she’d spent working on the florals for the party. Lucien had assured her the amount of work she’d taken over where the blooms were concerned wasn’t necessary, but she had insisted, leaving him to a knowing smirk and a graceful bow while she arranged bursts of color here and there; helped the servants who’d been hired create canopies of vibrant green. The party wouldn’t begin for another few hours, but she knew the magic that graced these blooms would keep them vibrant and fresh for weeks to come if the High Lord of Spring so chose.

This would be the first party–not a full-fledged ball, as she’d reminded herself multiple times–in Spring in several years, and would serve as an opportunity to celebrate its rebirth. It had been awkward, Elain had noticed, between her mate and Tamlin–she’d only ever heard the stories that Feyre and Lucien had told her of their time in Spring, and it wasn’t missed on her how closely Lucien watched her in the High Lord's presence.

How this was the only court other than Autumn where he didn’t seem fully comfortable with the idea of her wandering off on her own.

Though he hadn’t protested when she’d needed her space; a quiet morning of walking along through the gardens to process her thoughts. Tamlin had managed to secure some guards from Spring again, and she’d greeted them as she’d passed, noting the mix of Lesser and High Fae and the unusual, striking features of the former. It had been those morning walks through the gardens that had inspired the idea for the party, and she’d consulted Lucien on whether he’d thought it feasible.

“It could be a start,” he’d said carefully, though his eyes had warmed instantly at the enthusiasm with which she’d shared her idea. “A small party to build back morale within the court.”

He’d stood at her side while she’d presented the idea to Tamlin, and Elain hadn’t missed the warm surge of pride he’d sent down the bond to her or the small hint of a smile the High Lord of Spring had given her in response to the idea before voicing his approval. He’d offered his personal funds to cover it, but Elain hadn’t needed nearly the amount he’d offered: the flowers in the gardens were coming back in full force, and most of what they needed could be found around the estate.

She’d always liked the challenge of creating something beautiful with her own hands.

She’d felt Lucien’s eyes on her multiple times as she’d rallied a few of the servants and other Spring citizens she’d befriended during their previous emissary visits; felt the smile that played at his lips follow her as the inside of Tamlin’s manor had buzzed with life. Tables were moved to make room on the dance floor and support food and refreshments. Space was made for musicians–one of which she hoped would be the High Lord himself, after she’d learned of his fiddle playing and presented the idea–and decorated in flowers and natural splendor that made it feel like something from one of the romantic tales she’d read as a child.

Now the place had fallen quiet again, this time in anticipation as the servants had hurried home or back to their quarters to prepare for the festivities. The windows had been opened and would remain that way, the peaceful sound of birdsong and fountains from the gardens trickling through the halls. Tamlin himself was nowhere to be seen, and Elain stepped back in the hall, unable to refrain from admiring her handiwork and the vision she and the fae of Spring had brought to life. She rested her hands on her skirts, envisioning the place as it would become in a few hours’ time. She imagined the tunes that would play: a mix of classic dances and upbeat jigs from the Spring Court. Instinctively, she began to sway at the sound of a slow waltz that echoed through her memory–one she remembered well from the human lands, and one of the first dances she’d shared with her mate.

Elain felt his strong hand on her waist as she moved into a turn, a smile crossing her face as she easily fell into his lead. Settled into his strong frame and easy, elegant lead.

Lucien was, after all, every bit a High Lord’s son. She’d had yet to find a dance that he wasn’t adept in, an aspect of any court’s unique culture he wasn’t knowledgeable about. Even though no music played, he seemed to fall easily into a slow, graceful rhythm with her.

Warmth flooded through her and flickered to her cheeks as she met his gaze, his mismatched eyes seeming to take every detail of her in. Giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze, she followed that easy lead, flowing into a turn as he lifted her hand overhead and falling back into his gentle embrace again.

“You’ve outdone yourself,” he murmured, and though his eyes remained on her, she knew he referred to the transformation of the room around them.

“It’s high time they had a proper party,” she said, tracing her thumb over the side of his where their hands met in their hold.

“It’s time they had something worth celebrating again,” he added gently, fingers pressing lightly into her back as they swayed together in soft, slow steps of three. She responded, closing some distance between them at his touch. It was hardly considered proper–certainly would not have been for a waltz in the human realm, but her elbow curved around his arm and her hand pressed lightly against his strong back while his hand lowered to the small of hers. They did not cease their dance, and she breathed him in, the familiar blend of embers, earth, and cinnamon settling into her as easily as her own pulse.

He had become a home to her in ways she never thought possible: had always been in tune with her in ways she never would’ve imagined as a human, or even as High Fae before she’d been brave enough to know him. Lucien had become her dearest friend; her confidante, and her comfort. Yet he’d broadened her world and made her braver, too–letting her choose the life she wanted and giving her unyielding support when she faced her doubts.

They never pressed each other, instead falling into each other’s trust and confidence completely and at their own pace.

Elain laughed as she felt his hand shift and he dipped her, letting her head and hair fall back over the dance floor and snaking both arms around him as he pulled her close again. The bond hummed between them as she pulled herself against his powerful frame.

Feeling safe, free, and both utterly and hopelessly in love. The caress he sent down the bond responded in kind, telling her he felt every bit the same.

She felt him brush a kiss against her hair as she placed one against his chest directly over his heart. That strong, steady heartbeat had been her constant companion for years, even when she’d lingered in Velaris and heard its echo and pulse through the stone. It had terrified her; overwhelmed her completely in the way it had intertwined and beat in sync with her own. The way the bond was a constant presence between them and pulled both her mind and body towards him. She’d had no doubt that it had been the same for Lucien, too.

Elain had resisted for so long–rejected the idea of the bond no matter how deeply it wove itself into her. And yet, when she’d finally had enough and taken that first step–a mere attempt to accept not the bond itself, but that Lucien might be a good male and even a friend–she’d known. She thought perhaps a part of her had always known that if she allowed herself to take that chance, she would learn that Lucien was kind.

That he was strong and loyal and good in all the ways Feyre had talked about, and others her sister had never even known herself.

She had never been so naive to assume he might fall in love with her, too. Though she had never missed the longing in his eyes, his careful attention to her and gentle, unwavering respect. His occasional quips that had her fighting back a smirk or a laugh. His own past had worn on her every bit as much as the future she’d always thought she lost: the idea she'd held that she could never amount to the love he’d felt for someone else, or the guilt that had plagued him in the years that followed.

Yet here they were now, wrapped in each other alone in a ballroom that was nothing short of romantic. She ran her fingers through a strand of his silky, red hair, light catching the jewel on the ring she wore on her fourth finger that was a perfect, delicate companion to his. Their swaying slowed, as if everything she felt–all she thought–were flooding into him as well.

Her friend.

Her husband.

Her mate.

She pulled back from him only slightly to meet his gaze, and seeing both the confirmation and softness there, let his hair fall back over his shoulder. She rested her hand on the side of his face as he covered it with his own, and standing on her tiptoes, pressed a long, lingering kiss to his lips. He matched it knowingly, his mouth gentle, coaxing, and sending both her bond and body ablaze with warmth and peace. He brushed the corner of her lips once more before they separated.

A long, lone note in the distance echoed through the hallway then, stretching into the silence before finally being followed by another.

And another.

Then another.

The twinkle in Lucien’s eyes answered her question before she even voiced it as the faint trace of a fiddle sounded out, its song cautiously moving up and down in a scale as she’d often heard when musicians warmed up.

She smiled slightly and rested her head against his chest as they held each other, thankful for where they were and all they had become.

#elucien #elucien fics #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #elain x lucien #wyseinkworks #the song of spring #tamlin #elucien ficlet #spring court #the spring court

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animezinglife · 6 months

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Sounds of Summer

Time seems to move more slowly in the Summer Court, and Lucien and Elain take in every second. A short scene of the two in Summer.

Genre: Romance/Fluff Post-canon Elucien ficlet. Special thanks as always to @lucienarcheron and @zenkindoflove for the continued support. I hope this brings you both peace and warmth this weekend. Elucien Masterlist | AO3

Time has always seemed to move more slowly in Summer. The thought strikes Lucien again now as he takes in Elain’s sleeping form. The sheets are draped over her in a near-tangled mess; her golden-brown waves fanning out around her on the pillow and one strap of her nightgown falling slack over her shoulder. She breathes deeply; serenely. At first, he doesn’t move, committing the sight–committing her–to memory. While she’s always beautiful–the most beautiful female he’s ever seen–seeing her slumber like this tugs at the quieter side of their bond. The side he’s been able to sense in her from the start, and that she’s sensed in him.

He silently curses the fact they have to wake at all.

Already, they’ve slept in, the sunlight and salty air from the massive, open doors filling their suite with mild heat and a hint of salty mist. She stirs slightly, a quiet, content hum barely audible over the sound of the sea outside. Gently, he brushes a strand of hair from her face, a small smile crossing his face as her brow furrows slightly.

“Elain.” His voice is low, still groggy from his own sleep. Her eyelashes flutter slightly though her eyes stay closed, and when she doesn’t move, he leans into her and brushes a kiss against her hair. She doesn’t wake–not entirely, anyway, instead letting out a small huff in complaint and turning onto her side so that she faces him. He can’t help the smirk that forms on his face at that, and he slides the strap of her nightgown back into place on her shoulder before lowering his lips to her forehead. He peppers small kisses to her cheek and jawline as he feels the approval she sends down the bond, and he rests his lips near her ear to murmur quietly before kissing her there, too: “They’re going to wonder where we are.” Another kiss as goosebumps rise on her skin. “What we’ve been doing,” he adds pointedly, and if he’d ever had a doubt that she’d begun feigning sleep now, the color that flushes her ears and her cheeks is enough to confirm her act.

Her eyes flutter open then, fawn-brown meeting his under those heavy lashes. Though she’s blushing at his implication, a small, sleepy smile crosses her face. Mother, he’ll never get used to this: waking up beside her, that subtle but addicting scent of honey and jasmine, and feeling her warmth.

Feeling the bond that hums between them, peaceful and content.

They’d stayed out late the night before–each night they’d been here in fact, after long days filled with a mix of meetings and sightseeing. Tarquin and Cresseida both had taken to Elain instantly, and Lucien was almost certain that if emissary business hadn’t often called them and if they hadn’t shared a bed, the princess of Adriata would’ve claimed as much time with her new friend as she could.

It was almost funny, Lucien thought, how easily his mate had charmed the High Lords and ladies of each court. How easily she’d found that balance of navigating politics and building trust–the latter of which seemed to fall quickly to the others genuinely liking her and calling her a friend. Cresseida had been no exception despite the watchful, calculated distance she had kept from the two of them at first–something Lucien had picked up was likely still a reservation from what had happened with the Night Court. While Elain had been given as much of the backstory as he had, she had met Tarquin and the princess with an easy smile and manners that charmed them and quickly had the latter gossiping about less political matters.

Lucien had still managed to steal her away though, or more accurately, Elain had managed to steal him away from the politicking and courtly social affairs. They’d made their way to the beach together after dinner the night before and walked alongside the water, letting it wash over their feet and Elain soak up the sights, sounds, and feeling of it. She had taken his hand and half-led him there, and given his hand a squeeze as they’d stopped, watching the sun sink below the horizon.

When propriety hadn't required them to join Tarquin for meals, they’d ventured out on their own to sample the local cuisine from a different, less courtly perspective. They’d explored countless shops and gardens; several bakeries that specialized in pastries with sea salt, chocolate, and caramel. Lucien hadn’t hesitated to show Elain to all the locations he could remember where the rare, tropical flowers of Summer bloomed, and at the sight of them her face lit up. She had clutched his hand and led him over to one plant in particular before he could react, leaning in towards its petals and taking a long, deep breath to sample its scent, expressing how much she’d loved the hints of orange, jasmine, plum, and amber.

When Cresseida had stolen her away the next morning to talk over colorful drinks, Lucien had returned to the shops until he’d found a perfume in the scent’s perfect match. He’d gifted it to her last night, and the sweet, gentle scent still lingers on her neck and wrists.

He lowers his lips to her neck then and she giggles, her arm looping around his neck lazily and tracing a line down the back of his bare shoulders.

“So persistent,” she says, her voice every bit still as tired as his sounds. But there’s a lightness to it he doesn’t miss, and when he meets her gaze again, she doesn’t hesitate before pulling him to her and pressing her lips against his own.

The kiss is as slow and lazy as the waves below. It’s coaxing; savoring and slow, even as she angles herself to deepen the kiss and traces his lower lip with the tip of her tongue. He’s too aware of the hem of her nightgown rising as she hooks a leg lazily over his waist. His hands find the curve of her waist–barely concealed by that thin silk–and pulls her soft frame against him. The small sound she makes nearly undoes him there, but he savors every bit of her he can take in: the taste of her lips, her scent, and soft curves against his body as they lay tangled there. He both hears and feels her heartbeat synching closely with his own as his hand trails over down over her hip, giving her a light squeeze that makes her breath catch before continuing down her bare thigh.

“I could get used to this,” she breathes against his lips, and he lets a small smile cross his face. She nudges the tip of his nose with her own–a gesture that sends a memory flooding through him of the first time she’d done so, and his amusement that had followed. That strange human gesture–as though she’d mimicked a curious, playful fawn–still floods him with warmth. “Being here with the sun and sea. I never thought I’d see the ocean again, you know.”

“I’ll bring you here anytime you like,” he murmurs, and she gives him a soft smile.

“I know.” She kisses him again, this time more earnestly with her hand sliding to the side of his neck and down the slope of his exposed shoulder. When they separate briefly, he sees the twinkle in her brown eyes just before she pushes him then, climbing over him as his back draws flat against the sheets. He lets out a low laugh as she lies across him and kisses the corners of his mouth and jawline. When her lips find his scar he breathes her in deeply; his hand brushing her hair off her back and wrapping those golden-brown waves once around his hand.

“I’ll take you anywhere, Elain,” he whispers, and he doesn’t miss the caress she sends down the bond. It’s as though his mind and entire body react to it, too, whatever deep magic of that bond or their souls intertwining together and offering both a content, satisfied glow.

“I know that, too,” she says, and she rests so that her face is hovering barely an inch above his. She brushes a strand of his hair off his face, and he traces a strand of hers that he still holds in hand. “I’d go anywhere with you, but right now…” Her voice trails as she shifts, and he senses her intentions changing before her body gives any sign. Her cheeks flush slightly, and he commits the sight of it to memory–all of her to it. His free hand slides down her back knowingly, her scent changing quickly and his own body entirely too near to giving his own wants away. Yet he stays still and he watches her until her eyes pose a question. As her full lips quietly speak the words he’s already hoping he might hear. “I just…want you.”

He doesn’t wait for her to continue. He catches the back of her neck with his free hand and kisses her again. Softness turns to hunger, and the strap of her nightgown falls from her shoulders again she returns his intensity.

His warmth.

His desire.

His love.

His mate.

He doesn’t care what hour it is. He’ll give her every second, every minute, every hour he can.

The Summer Court will have to wait.

#elucien #elucien ficlet #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #elucien fics #elucien short one-shot #acotar #summer court #the summer court #elain x lucien #lucien x elain #this is super over-the-top sweet so if you don't like fluff with a capital F #this probably isn't for you #wyse_ink #wyseinkworks #soft elucien

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