xtaketwox - Tumblr blog

xtaketwox · 1 year ago

Text

Day 1:Fated Just A Tug

“She’d never voice it out loud but it was true.Elain Archeron was worried about Lucien Vanserra—her estranged mate whom she’s never even given the time of day.She could not stop worrying about him.Maybe it was the damned mating bond making her feel this way or maybe it was the fact that he was out risking his life because of her,but no matter how she much she tried to deny that gnawing feeling in her chest every time she thought of her mate—she couldn’t.”

What if when Lucien was gone and in the Mortal Lands,Elain was deathly worried about him and she decided to finally do something about it? (Hello acowar half-step)

Read on Ao3

Happy @elucienweekofficial!!

A week and 3 days.That’s how long it’s been since Elain’s mate had left to look for the sixth human queen.A week and 3 days since he’d volunteered to go to the Mortal Lands based off a vague vision Elain had.

It was a suicide mission.

It didn’t matter what Elain tried to tell herself,she could feel in her very bones that this was reckless and dangerous.A fool’s errand disguised as an act of heroism.A faerie lurking on mortal grounds was a death wish just begging to be granted and Lucien must have known that when he offered himself to this mission.Feyre and her friends surely knew that as well and yet they sent him out there anyway.To make matters worse Lucien was completely alone out there, none of the Inner Circle bothering to accompany him.She knew Lucien wasn’t a priority to them,even discardable in their eyes,but how could they in their right mind agree to something so outrageous and senseless?

The Fae might be strong and powerful,but Elain had seen what Graysen’s family had prepared to fight and defend themselves against faeries.Humans were paranoid—the Nolans especially —but that only made them more susceptible to attack.They were loaded with ash arrows,swords,knives,daggers and a hundred other weapons Elain couldn’t name or remember.Grayson had shown her everything they’d hoarded over the years,his father’s hatred—or rather obsession—towards faeries infecting everything in the household. Including his son.Elain was sure that was Graysen’s feeble attempt at wooing her and she would’ve been impressed if it hadn’t all terrified her so much instead.And now with her mate all alone in a place where he’s seen as a monster,she truly was petrified.Gods he really is gonna die.The thought alone sent a cold shiver down Elain’s spine.

What is he even out looking for? A cursed human queen that turns into a firebird?

Insanity.Absolute insanity.Whatever Elain had seen in her so called “vision” even she didn’t believe.So why her mate had decided to gamble his life based off a few words she uttered while in a haze,she had no idea.

What Elain did know was that she hated him.Hated him for putting himself in harms way just so he could what,impress her? This certainly had not impressed Elain.She knew he wished to be useful and wanted to aid in the war but his selflessness and desire to be helpful had left her worried sick.Having him here in the town house,whilst it made her feel odd and tingly all over,like her nerves were sparking electricity in her veins—was more tolerable than the pit of worry that had rooted itself in her stomach since he’d left.

She’d never voice it out loud but it was true.Elain Archeron was worried about Lucien Vanserra—her estranged mate whom she’s never even given the time of day.She could not stop worrying about him.Maybe it was the damned mating bond making her feel this way or maybe it was the fact that he was out risking his life because of her,but no matter how she much she tried to deny that gnawing feeling in her chest every time she thought of her mate—she couldn’t.

Every second of every day her mind played out a dozen different possibilities of what might be happening to him in the Mortal Lands,each one more terrifying than the last.She could not sleep at night.Not when every time she shut her eyes the only thing she could see was a rotten corpse with red hair.Not sleeping was easier she figured. But then those images haunted her throughout the day too.Tainting her every thought and there was nothing she could do to get out of her own head.

Nothing distracted her either.Not gardening,not baking.Nothing could get her to stop worrying.The dullness of the bond,throbbing endlessly in her ribcage only served as a reminder of her fears .It made focusing on anything other than the thought of Lucien near impossible.

Elain wanted to believe Lucien was fine.In the back of her mind,she knew he could handle himself.She had been told by Feyre that he was trained as a warrior,was good with a sword and knew how to kill if he needed to.She’d seen him with her very eyes stacked with weapons right before he left.She had wanted more than anything to stop him that day from walking out the door.She’d stood on those stairs like a ghost, endlessly psyching herself up and contemplating what she would say to him.But her feet were like stones weighing down her body,cementing her to the wooden steps beneath her.It was only when he turned around that she could move her limbs again but it was too late by then.Maybe if Lucien had seen the half step she took he would’ve never left.

He realistically should be fine,is what Elain keeps telling herself every time an irrational thought ate away at her conscience.But what if he was faced against a large group of humans armed with ash arrows? He probably wouldn’t stand a chance,would be taken out in mere minutes.Hell even a single skilled hunter could shoot an ash arrow right though his skull and kill him just like that.The images of a dead bloodied Lucien flashed in Elain’s mind for the tenth time this hour,earning an exasperated sigh from her throat.

This is how Elain has been for the past week and 3 days.Spiraling as she endlessly mulls over what feels like Lucien’s imminent death.Elain knew she was being absurd.Worrying herself ill about a stranger,a fae male for heaven’s sake,but the bond cared little for logic.

Elain knew she needed to do something to soothe her concerns.If she could just know for sure that Lucien was alive and safe,she’d finally be able to get a good night of sleep without that handsome scarred face occupying every space in her mind.

After some more time spent worrying in her garden,Elain had come up with a plan.A plan that relied solely on her ability to sound nonchalant and like she doesn’t care about the person she’s inquiring about.It was a very simple plan really.Elain was very casually gonna go up to Feyre and ask her if they’d heard anything from Lucien,merely because the Seer is curious if he’d found the firebird and her army that they desperately need for the war.The war is obviously what Elain is worried about,definitely not the red headed fire lord.It shouldn’t be too difficult to have a totally not suspicious conversation with her sister about the upcoming war.Sure,she’d never once seemed interested in the war or anything regarding Prythian but she’d turned over a new leaf.Or atleast that’s what Feyre was hopefully gonna believe.Hopefully.

With that plan set in Elain’s mind,she picked up her yellow skirts and made her way to the living room,quietly rehearsing her lines under her breath as she walked out of the garden.

******

Elain’s younger sister was seated on one of the couches,paper work sprawled all over her lap.Tension lined her delicate face and her brows were furrowed as she read the paper in her hand.Elain could only imagine what Feyre,now High Lady of the Night Court,must be dealing with when war was coming.

Nerves bubbled up in Elain’s gut as she approached Feyre,her hands sweaty as she fisted them at her sides.What if Feyre doesn’t know anything? Or worse she does know something and is hiding some very bad news—

“Elain?” Feyre’s voice startled the Seer out of her train of thoughts. “Are you alright? Do you need something?” Elain quickly realized she’d been standing there for far too long without having said anything.So much for appearing casual.

Elain forced a soft smile before answering,“Sorry.Yes, I’m alright.She smoothed out her skirts to busy her shaky hands,a nervous habit she developed as a little girl. “I just wanted to ask you something. Have you heard anything from— Lucien?” his name sounded awfully strange coming from her lips. She couldn’t recall if she’d said it more than once before. “Any news about finding the human queen?” the words spilled out from Elain more awkwardly and less confidently than she had hoped despite her best efforts to deliver the lines casually.She mentally cursed at herself for failing at the most crucial and significant part of the plan.It could only go downhill from here.

Feyre’s blue eyes widened slightly,revealing for a split second her surprise at Elain’s curiosity regarding Lucien.Elain couldn’t blame her sister for her reaction.She never talked about Lucien, never even said his name or acknowledged what he was to her.The room was silent for a moment,only the sound of Elain’s racing heart thrumming in her ears.The High Lady merely observed Elain and her was face contorted into an expression Elain couldn’t quite read.

Feyre began shaking her head as she spoke,her brown hair swaying with the subtle movement. “I’m sorry Elain we haven’t heard anything.With how far he is it’s practically impossible for me or Rhys to communicate with him.We won’t know anything until he comes back,” Feyre’s voice was clipped like she herself was worried about her old friend.

Elain’s heart seemed to drop more and more as Feyre uttered each word.We won’t hear anything until he comes back.Its impossible to communicate with him right now.A million questions were roaring inside Elain’s head,every worry and concern revealing themselves to be valid.If they couldn’t reach him how will they know if he’s okay? If he’s in danger and needs help? If he’s dead?

Panic was rising in Elain’s throat,spreading to every limb in her body rendering her unable to move let alone breathe.Her heart was thumping in her chest,beating so wildly she was sure Feyre could hear it.She could feel sweat begin beading on her temples and her sister’s gaze was a brand on her skin as she noted her every movement and expression.Elain quickly remembered to put up her mental shields.The last thing she needed was Feyre meddling in her head.

The air in the room was thick and Elain could only swallow,her tongue heavy in her mouth and her chest tight from what felt like a lack of oxygen circulating in her lungs.She needed to sit,maybe even cry or scream because Feyre’s answer only meant she’s stuck worrying about Lucien until he maybe came back.God the word maybemade Elain nauseous,her stomach twisting in on itself making her feel truly sick.

But under the scrutiny of her sister’s stare,Elain did what she’s always been good at.Evening her breaths, she threw on her sweetest smile—one she hoped looked sweet anyways— and willed her hands to stop shaking as she folded them at top of her skirts.She gave Feyre a small nod and before she could turn her back towards the door,Feyre spoke.Her voice much softer than she’d ever heard like she was terrified she’ll scare her sister away by what she’s about to say.Elain cringed at the cautiousness hidden behind Feyre’s every word and action.

“You know if you’re …worried about him,” she paused warily before continuing ,“you could use the mating bond to check on him .If you tug on it he’ll tug back to let you know he’s okay.”

“I’m not worried about him,” Elain replied too quickly and far too defensively to sound even slightly believable.So much for appearing nonchalant.She bit her lip to keep herself from saying another ludicrous thing and heat rose to her cheeks as she saw the curl of Feyre’s lips and that knowing look in her eyes.

She was a deer caught in the headlights.

Every feeling and thought Elain had meticulously concealed this past week suddenly felt like they were out in the open.Written all over her face,her skin,the walls of this room.She couldn’t stop rechecking her mental shields to make sure they were still in tact.

Feyre was silent for a heartbeat but Elain could tell she was carefully contemplating her next words,how to approach the situation—once again that wariness that made Elain’s skin itch from the inside out.The small smile on Feyre’s face did nothing to hide the disappointment and slight judgement that laced her next words. “Okay.Forget I said anything then.”

Elain knew her sister was dying to push and pry but thankfully she shifted her attention back to her paperwork, allowing Elain to walk away with dignity and grace.Barely.

******

Elain could not fall asleep.She’d laid down on her bed almost three hours ago and had been tossing and turning since,her body restless and filled with anxiety she couldn’t shake off.When she did by some miracle manage to fall asleep,it was no longer than a few minutes and her dreams were plagued by nightmares.A manifestation of her worries.

Growing frustrated,Elain reached for the faelight next to her bed and sat upright ,her back flush against the headboard and the covers bunched messily on her thighs.She dropped her head in her hands,digging her palms into her eyes as she felt a headache begin to from at her temples.A familiar result of all the overthinking and lack of sleep.Elain’s head was a jumble of worries and Feyre’s advice would not leave her mind.To tug on the mating bond to check on Lucien? That felt..Intimate.

Elain might not remember much from her time at the House of Wind —all the days blurred into a few hazy memories—but she could never forget the feeling of Lucien tugging on their mating bond for the first time.How strange it was,to have a complete stranger reach into her very soul and tug.Tug on that golden thread so intricately woven into her very being,the only bridge of connection tying her to her mate.She remembered how the bond seemed to delightfully hum in response.The way her body reacted to having him so close.The yearning and longing overpowering any sensible thought she had.How that single tug made her soul come back to life just for a moment.

In a flash though that feeling of clarity was gone and a deep sensation of guilt had hit her right below her ribs.When she’d stood up and observed Lucien’s strained face while he repeatedly apologized for startling her,she knew it was him she was feeling.He had accidentally sent a wave of his emotions down the bond.

Elain had no idea how mating bonds truly worked. She only knew the basics that Feyre had informed her of but it all seemed so unusual to her,so utterly fae.That only made her less interested in learning anything about the topic.However with the predicament she had found herself in,Elain wished she had asked more questions about what it meant to be mated to someone.

Despite her reluctancy and uncertainty surrounding the mating bond,Elain knew this was the only way.She could not bear to live in this constant state of worry any longer.The lack of sleep alone was bound to kill her at some point.And so she knew what she had to do…Well actually she had no idea what exactly she was supposed to do but hoped she’d instinctively figure it out.It shouldn’t be too hard.

Elain lifted her head from her hands,her eyes blinking rapidly before adjusting to the faint light in her room. She squared her shoulders and attempted to relax her body and calm her fidgety nerves.She tentatively closed her eyes again and began searching for that glowing tether pulsating almost painfully in her chest at her mate’s absence.She hated how the bond affected every aspect of her life now.How it made her feel things she didn’t want to feel.Things she shouldn’t be feeling.

The seer couldn’t stop the memories that began creeping up in her mind.Memories of that cursed day.The feeling of the bond was a trigger Elain couldn’t turn off.The unmistakable sensation of a mating bond snapping echoed in her mind as she seeked for the dormant bond aching in her ribs.She could still feel the bruising snap settling on her chest like a striking blow.She’d felt it as she came out the cauldron,the feeling of something so fundamental changing in her body.Her body was no longer hers though,burning and fuming from the inside out.Forever changed and altered against her will.

The bond had been a thunder lightning her every muscle, pulling and forcing her eyes to look at him.The second her brown eyes met his mismatched ones,her body seemed to immediately recognized what he was to her.Almost as if a piece of her had been missing and it was him.Even then she could feel his fear and confusion like they were her own,swirling and adding onto her own feelings of despair and anguish.She wondered if,in that moment,he had felt her too.

Elain quickly shook her head as if she could physically get the memories of that day out of her mind.Going down memory lane was not helping.Proving to be a hindrance with the way her headache was pounding.Like a child attempting to comfort themselves,Elain brought her knees to her chest and pulled the covers tight around herself.

She knew her resentment towards Lucien was unfair.He was not to blame for what happened to her that day.He didn’t choose to be her mate.She was thrown at him just as much as he was thrown at her,but Elain couldn’t help the memories that came with the mating bond,forever graved into her brain and etched onto her skin.

Focus Elain.

Elain closed her eyes once again and concentrated all her energy at the center of that bond,fighting the onslaught of painful imageries flashing in her mind.Her body was near trembling,knees so tight against her chest they couldn’t physically be any closer.She didn’t dare open her eyes,continuing to reach deep within herself for that bond.With Lucien so far from the Night Court,the bond was an aching hollow pit in her chest.But still it was there.Faint and weak but there nonetheless.

A web of golden threads connected Elain and Lucien.Tangled ribbons wrapped themselves around Elain’s heartstrings,intertwining into the beating muscles at the core of her chest.Only a single thread was loose.Stretching far to reach and wrap around Lucien’s own heart.They were tied so thoroughly together,Elain realized.The bond intricately knotted around their bodies and the spirits of their beings.Destining their souls in every way possible.The bond was as integral as the blood running through their veins and Elain didn’t believe there was any separating the two.She and the bond were one.Her and Lucien two halves that will eternally yearn for each other.

She didn’t want to dwell on that any further.

Elain pulled on the invisible string unfolded around her heart and tugged softly.The sensation was pronounced but more comforting than what she’d expected.Like a tickle to her skin or a brush against her cheek.The bond sparked in response,sputtering giddily as if it was starving for any kind of attention.At Elain’s hesitant tugs,the bond seemed to glow and hum serenely under her ribcage,the feeling strangely fuzzy and overwhelming.She hoped that no matter the distance,Lucien would feel the tug.Would feel her worry and desperation through that bridge between their souls.

A minute or two passed and…nothing.Elain didn’t feel anything,not a tug back.Sweat began dripping down her back and her stomach was in knots,threatening to empty its contents at what the lack of response might mean.She didn’t give herself a chance to panic just yet,opting for tugging frantically on the bond when suddenly she felt it.

Lucien reaching out to her.Tugging much more gently on his end of the bond,like he was afraid to startle her like he once did.She could feel the tug pulsing at the very core of her being,her fingers tingling at the sheer intensity. A warmth spread through her chest and wrapped itself around her body as a surge of reassurances were sent down her way.Elain basked in the soothing reaffirmations Lucien conveyed through the bond,and she felt her pounding heart slow and her throbbing headache alleviate.

She could almost make out Lucien’s soft voice in her head telling her:I’m alive.Im okay don’t worry about me.Maybe Elain really was losing it but she could swear she felt a gentle caress on her hand attempting to soothe her.

With her eyes shut so tightly,she could even make out slight images of Lucien sitting across a fire,his face illuminated by the light of the flame and cheeks stained red from the heat.He was smiling to himself or rather at someone.There was another person next to him,Elain realized.A human.She could tell by her rounded ears and the bruises marking her face.The woman had long copper hair and eyes so blue they were the only thing glowing amidst the shadow of the night other than that fire.Elain had never seen anything quite like them.

Although the human woman looked young, there was a certain regality to her,a sharpeness to her eyes as she stared at that fire with roaring intensity.No fear gleaming those eyes but rather familiarity.A connection.The firebird.

The realization hit Elain like a ton of bricks.Lucien had found the cursed human queen.

Elain almost squealed from happiness,her hands jumping to her mouth to keep herself quite.Lucien had really gone to the Mortal Lands all by himself with nothing but a few weapons on his back and had successfully found the human queen.And he truly was okay.Not shot by ash arrows or dead in a ditch somewhere.Alive and safe.Her mate was safe.The bond seemed to flicker at that thought.At that word.

A flush spread across Elain’s cheeks as she thought of everything she did just now but she couldn’t bring herself to care.Not when all her worries and concerns seemed to disappear replaced by blissful relief instead. She couldn’t help the smile that bloomed on her lips as she finally felt herself relax for the first time in a week.

Turning off her faelight and snuggling back into bed,Elain knew exactly who she’d be dreaming of tonight.And for once she was looking forward to seeing that handsome face again.

#elucienweek2024 #elucien #to be read

40 notes · View notes

xtaketwox · 1 year ago

Text

What Do You Know About Love? - (1/?)

Summary: When Elain discovers a centuries old love letter, written in secret and never sent, she decides that she's going to be the one to finally deliver it. Even if finding its intended recipient means going on a mission with Lucien Vanserra. Set post ACoSF.

A contribution to @elucienweekofficial Day 1: Fated!

Chapter 1 - The Tide of Destiny

Read on AO3

The sea was never particularly calming to Elain.

And in her bedroom in Velaris, no matter how desperately she tried, she couldn’t escape its call.

As a human, the distance between the docks and the river house would have rendered its sound indiscernible. But with her sensitive fae hearing, the sea leaked through her window—despite how firmly she’d shut it before going to bed. She’d woken to its sound, how it stirred something restless and uncertain inside her.

Now, engulfed in the darkness of her drawn bed curtains, she could hear the waves lapping against the seaside on the other side of the city. She knew that if she shut her eyes, if she tried to go back to sleep, it would be impossible to distinguish between her bedroom and the shore. Some nights she would hear the swelling tide and dart upwards with a gasp, convinced it would crash over the sheets and drag her into its dark, bottomless depths.

Some nights, like tonight, she convinced herself it was not the sea calling to her at all—it was the lapping waters of the Cauldron, intent on dragging her back into its icy shackles to strip and tear at her humanity again.

Madja had once suggested that when those fears became potent, Elain could try summoning pleasant memories of the sea, instead. And as Elain stayed up trembling in bed that night, she tried to muster happy memories. She did.

Their family once lived at a charming manor by the sea. It should have been easy to think of just one moment of joy. She didn’t consider those years unhappy, though when raking her memory for anything relating to the sea itself, she could only recall one particularly unhappy day.

She remembered the smell of salty air, borne partially from the wind that blew off the harbor and stopped to tangle in her curls, but also from the tears wetting her cheeks. They worsened the longer she stared at the dockworkers hauling supply crates across the gangplank and onto The Asphodelos, her father’s merchant ship. It was the day he was leaving on a three month voyage to the continent.

Elain stood at the dockside, her favorite doll clutched tightly to her chest, and watched with wide, watery eyes as the crew raised one of the anchors at the bow of the ship. Summoned by the rattling chains, two dark claws raised from the inky surface as if a great creature had scooped at the bottom of the harbor to reveal a handful of dripping, oily sediment.

She wondered if the same creature didn’t reach into the depths of her chest, dredging up an emotion so thick and black it surely belonged at the bottom of the seabed.

In their father’s absence, Elain and her sisters would be handed to the company of their Grandmamma, governess, and nursemaids while their mother enjoyed her newfound liberties—as she called it—by making all number of visits to friends and distant relatives. During that time, Nesta would be swept away by their Grandmamma, who insisted on seizing the opportunity to offer her tutelage, and Feyre would be more inclined to run barefoot through the gardens than attend Elain’s tea parties.

Elain’s only true company would be in the form of her pink-cheeked, browned haired doll, which was a gift her father had brought from his last voyage to the continent. That was Elain’s only comfort as their family stood at the dockside to see him off—that in a matter of months, he might return with another friend from a faraway land and a fantastical story she would beg him to repeat until it was renewed during his next epic adventure.

So unlike Nesta, Elain wasn’t scowling towards their father’s back, furious with him for leaving. Nor was she like Feyre, squirming on the hip of their nursemaid, the elderly woman’s arms tightly locked around the youngest Archeron’s lithe frame to keep her from dashing down the docks and pitching over the side. Feyre was always far more interested in climbing atop places she shouldn’t than appreciating the sentiment of the occasion.

But Elain—she stared out with eyes fixed on her father and edged as close to the water as the frayed rope would allow. She clutched her doll against her chest in an attempt to soothe the ache building beneath it. Soon, their father would walk over and kiss each of them farewell, and Elain would watch his ship until its billowing sails faded into the horizon.

It was as they were waiting on a dock that a man lugging a barrel of sloshing liquid shouted at their family to move aside. Their mother grasped the sleeve of Elain’s dress, yanking her back with such force that the doll slipped from Elain’s grasp and plummeted into the dark water below.

Her tears were instantaneous—small, hiccuping sobs that surged into wails the second she registered that no one was moving to retrieve the doll. The crew continued loading the ship, oblivious or uncaring, while Elain’s mother scrunched her nose and nudged Elain toward the nursemaid holding Feyre.

The nursemaid gave a cooing noise and shifted Feyre on her hip so that she could extend one plump arm to Elain, drawing her closer with a soft hand at the back of her head. Elain clutched the skirts of her nursemaid's dress and barrelled forward to smother her tears against the fabric.

“What’s happened?”

Recognizing her father’s voice, Elain lifted her head with a weak sniffle.

“Wee thing’s lost her doll,” answered the nursemaid, rubbing a soothing circle into the center of Elain’s back. “Plopped straight into the water, it did.”

“Oh, my dear Elain.” Their father dropped to one knee, meeting Elain’s height so that he could carefully take one of her much smaller hands into his own. “Don’t fret,” he soothed, reaching to chase away a few of the tears rolling down her cheeks. “The things we lose are never truly gone. Have patience, and perhaps one day your doll will find its way back to you.”

Fortunately, Elain was a patient child. And she happened to excel at listening to her father. With her tears abated, she nodded and waited the many weeks of her father’s voyage. Upon his return, he brandished a beautiful doll from behind his back.

See, Elain? I found her on the continent. The tides must have carried her there, so that she could be reunited with you.

Elain’s doll had bright, clever brown eyes, much like her own. But the one she was handed from her father had eyes like a frozen lake, more like her sisters Nesta and Feyre. She noticed this, and frowned, but accepted the doll anyway.

She learned that sometimes lost things do come back, but not quite the same as they once were.

Now, sitting in the dark of her bedroom with nothing else to occupy her mind, Elain pulled at the aching threads of all the things she’d lost that would never come back. Her mother, her father, her human life.

Graysen.

The sting of that name lessened with time, but it was not so reduced that she didn’t hiss through her teeth as it clanged through her.

Deciding she would never get any sleep in this state of mind, Elain threw the blankets open and scrambled off the bed. The Inner Circle would likely still be awake. They’d all kept odd hours since Nyx was born and she often heard their laughter drifting through the floorbeds well past midnight. She knew that one member, in particular, rarely slept at all.

That thought nearly convinced her to stay inside her room. She didn’t wish to see any of them, not at the moment, and least of all…

Elain shrugged on a robe and hastily tied it around her waist, resolving that she was unlikely to encounter anyone on the way to the library. And in there, she could sit and read and sip tea until her exhaustion overpowered her agitation.

It was a good plan. It might have been effective, if she hadn’t been drawn short halfway down the hall by the sight of a tall male standing at the far end of the corridor, staring at a piece of fabric in his hand.

He lifted his head at her approach, and froze the moment he saw her. He was wearing his hair bound, all of it tied in a scarlet knot at the back of his head. She was used to seeing it down, spilling like ringlets of flame over his shoulders and always partially covering the brutal, slashing scar through his left eye. She didn’t know what to make of the sight of his face, completely unobstructed.

Every time Elain saw him, it was like being struck in the stomach. She couldn’t breathe—and if she did, it would mean inhaling his scent and making the whole ordeal of looking at him infinitely, insufferably worse.

“Elain,” he said. His eyes—one russet and one mechanical—scraped over her, scrutinizing every detail.

She hated how he said her name. Always on a breath, like he was being struck in the stomach at the sight of her, too.

The same emotions played out over his face that she felt waring deep in her chest—surprise, delight, uneasiness. She didn’t know he’d be here. Feyre usually warned her in advance of his visits, and even then it was odd for him to be here so late in the evening, when he had his own apartment to retire to.

Lucien cleared his throat, breaking both of them from their trance. “Having difficulty sleeping, Lady?”

There was an edge to his voice that caused Elain to shift onto her backfoot. She didn’t know why he was asking, when he would already know through whatever perverse magic tied them together. The same way she knew when he was sleeping. Or when he was extraordinarily happy, which was rare. And extraordinarily sad, which was often.

He would know in the same way she knew that in this very moment, though it perplexed her, Lucien Vanserra was seething with anger.

If not for the mating bond announcing his every extreme emotion, she still would have been able to read it plainly on his face. His red brows were pinched together, his teeth gritted, and the fabric in his hand, which he’d been staring at with alarming intensity before she’d gotten there, was gripped so tightly that each of his brown knuckles turned a soft pale color.

A dozen questions flitted through her mind. She wasn’t sure which to ask him, which he would answer. Questions were tedious. They could imply interest where there was none, or venture their conversation towards truths she was in no state to hear.

She settled with, “I didn’t know you were in Velaris.”

He crumpled the fabric in his hand until it was obscured entirely within his fist. “I winnowed in an hour ago.”

Elain’s pulse jumped in her throat. “Why so late?”

The last time Lucien had been summoned to Velaris with such urgency, it was after Feyre had nearly died in childbirth. If there was an emergency, surely someone would have come to wake her?

Lucien shifted, glancing at his closed fist as if waging some internal conflict. Then he released a long breath. “Rhysand wanted to meet at this hour—he requested discretion.”

Discretion from who? No one in the house would be asleep at this time. No one besides…

She chewed her lip, uncertain if she should be affronted. Did Rhysand think he was doing her a favor by summoning Lucien at this hour, so that they needn’t encounter each other? Or—and she knew in her heart it was more likely—Feyre and her husband were deliberately hiding something from her. If she asked Lucien, would he reveal it to her? Would she even want to know?

“If you’re trying to be discreet,” she asked, trying to make her voice sound light, “then why have I found you wandering around upstairs where anyone might find you?”

Lucien looked at her then, with an understanding that made her want to shrivel inside herself. She thought he would say that he knew. That he’d felt her panic, and knew that she would be awake, wandering the halls to escape the waves roaring in her ear.

Instead he held up his fist, opening it to reveal a balled-up handkerchief. “I found this,” he said. “I presume it belongs to you.”

He extended it to her and Elain retrieved it warily, careful to only touch the fabric and not any part of his skin. The last time she’d accidentally brushed her fingers against his, it’d felt as if she’d plunged them into an open flame. It wasn’t a sensation she’d been able to forget.

Once it was safely in her possession, Elain smoothed her thumb across the fabric and studied the brocade pattern woven into the wine-colored silk. The embroidered E in the corner certainly seemed to suggest it belonged to her, but Elain didn’t own a handkerchief this color. Nor did she make a habit of embroidering her belongings. Its texture was not familiar to her, either—slightly rougher than silk, though smoother than any cotton she’d felt between her fingers before.

“Where did you find this?” She asked.

“So it is yours, then?”

He sounded angry again. Elain lifted her eyes to see that he was studying her, searching for the answer to some deeper question he didn’t dare voice.

A muscle feathered in this jaw. He glanced down the hall, ensuring they were alone, before he added in a low voice, “I found it outside the Shadowsinger’s bedroom.”

Aware that her reaction was being monitored carefully, and risked confirming the accusations already tangible in his words, Elain kept her expression perfectly neutral. She thumbed at the E in the corner, wondering if it was perhaps a gift from Azriel, and she was its intended recipient.

It would be odd if it was—Azriel had barely spoken to her since the Solstice. From what she’d gauged of the shadowsinger, his bouts of silence were not unusual, but whatever lingering glances had once existed between them seized the moment she returned the rose necklace to him.

No. Sooner than that.

This was a mistake.

Even now, months later, those words burned inside her. She folded the handkerchief and held it back towards him, deciding she didn’t care if it was a gift. Just like the necklace, she’d return it.

“It’s not mine,” she said. “You can put it back wherever you found it.”

Lucien arched his scar-slit brow. She knew he didn’t believe her, and that the evidence was certainly incriminating. There was no one else by that initial who lived in this house, not unless there was a new servant who happened to drop it.

It caused her to wonder if Azriel had planted the handkerchief intentionally. Either to get under Lucien’s skin, or in the hopes that Elain would find it, and it would lead to another clandestine meeting. Where she would knock on his door and be again swept into those deep hazel eyes, and perhaps would feel so consumed by his churning, unspoken anguish that she would forget his hurtful words.

Or perhaps… There was not a scheme afoot at all, and this was simply the souvenir of a new lover.

Lucien crossed his arms, making no move to retrieve the handkerchief. “And where exactly were you headed at this hour?”

He jerked his chin the direction she’d been heading, a passageway which forked two directions. On one end, to the library, and on the other… to Azriel’s room.

Elain’s cheeks burned in outrage. “I was going to the library.”

“In your nightgown?”

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” she said. “You’re not my keeper. And I haven’t seen or heard from you in months.”

Lucien drew back, as if she’d struck him. His expressions hardened, then smoothed—the way a river could strip a rock of all of its jagged edges.

“You’re right, Lady.” That was his courtier’s voice, distant and detached from the emotion she knew was churning inside him. “My apologies. I’ll leave you to carry on to the library.”

His apology only stoked her anger, enough that she wanted to claw deeper. She drew the handkerchief to her chest and stepped past him with a clipped, “Thank you for returning this to me.”

The scent of woodsmoke and clove coiled around her as she darted past, a hidden snare that almost caught her, willing her to turn around and tell him the truth. She held her breath instead, glaring down the hall as though the Cauldron was sitting at its end, taunting her.

She could feel Lucien’s eyes trailing her until she disappeared behind the corridor. And the moment his scent faded, and she could no longer count the metronome of his heartbeat, the sea swept back in.

That was what sent Elain veering away from the library. Without thinking, or stopping to listen to the hushed voices as she passed Rhysand’s study, Elain stormed down the stairs and pushed out the door into the streets of Velaris. With only a coat shrugged over her nightgown, she was woefully underdressed, but she was desperate to go somewhere, anywhere, that would distract from all the scents and sounds and questions swirling in her mind.

Did Azriel know that Lucien would be coming? Did she care? It wasn’t the first time she’d seen Lucien angry with her. And given how they’d last parted, it was no surprise there would be tension between them.

As she strode through the empty marketplace, the memory of the icy words they last exchanged crept into the periphery of her thoughts, like the frost she spied climbing over the glass of the shop window in front of her.

In its reflection, a pink-cheeked female was taking great, huffing breaths. Her golden-brown curls were windswept from the cool breeze, the bite of which promised winter in the weeks to come. Altogether, she looked far more flustered and agitated than a composed lady ought to be.

It was just—It’d been so long since she’d last heard his voice and felt the onslaught of her body’s reaction to his presence. She’d been underprepared, and he’d pushed all the right buttons to prod her into an anger equal to his own. That was all.

Elain shook her head, forcibly pushing away the shards of memory that plagued her—present and past and future, blending together. Scarlet hair and sneering lips and the taste of fire scalding her tongue. With her cursed visions, she was used to cobwebs of would-bes and half-truths plaguing her mind, but the heated flashes of her mate were more difficult to dismiss. Especially when he was in Velaris, starting fights with her in the hallway.

With a deep breath, she practiced the grounding techniques she’d spoken about with Madja.

What was beneath her? The firm, cobbled street, glowing against the small bulbs of faelights strung from roof to roof.

What was above her? A dark, overcast sky—rare for Velaris, and likely another indication that the mild autumn weather was coming to its end. Though the red and amber leaves gilding the city’s landscape were pretty, she was happy to think they’d soon be swept away with the winter. The sight of them made her chest ache.

What was in front of her? Her own reflection, blinking through the window of a shop that—looking past her squinting image—appeared to sell an eccentric collection of trinkets. She spied a snow globe sitting upon a stack of books, which precariously supported a leaning portrait of an amphibian faerie in the nude, draped in jewels whilst being hand-fed a basket of red berries.

It was an odd painting to be advertising in the storefront window, but it was certainly effective in knocking Elain from her bad mood. She wandered to the shop’s entrance, and was delighted to see that a small desk light was lit inside and a sign hung over the entrance, stating: OPEN (to those who seek)

Seized with curiosity, Elain grabbed the silver handle and tested the knob, just to make sure it wasn’t locked.

The bell above the door frame trilled a high-pitched greeting, announcing her entrance to the shopkeeper sitting behind a large desk, piled high with odds and ends of which Elain could find no discernible pattern. The faerie was sorting through a box of ribbons all in various colors and stages of condition, so immersed in the task at hand that she didn’t seem to notice Elain’s entrance, despite being the only patron in the otherwise empty shop.

After providing what felt to be a polite amount of time to finish the task, Elain said, “Excuse me, is this store open?”

Not looking up from the two frayed ribbons she was untangling in her hands, one a vivid scarlet red and the other a vibrant yellow, the shopkeeper asked, “Have you found something lost or lost something found?”

Elain blinked. “Pardon?”

With a heavy sigh, the faerie dropped the ribbons back in the box. “This is a place of trade,” she said, gesturing with a purple hand towards the strange collection of items at her desk. “Not a shop.”

“And you trade… lost objects?”

The faerie nodded, causing a lock of the snow-white hair wreathed at the top of her head to fall over one of her slitted black eyes. She petulantly batted it behind her fin-shaped ear before pinning Elain with a wild, jagged-toothed smile, “Would you like to look at my wares?”

“I have nothing to trade,” Elain said, sweeping her eyes over the items nonetheless. There was a box of quills, most of which looked to be used, the feathers worn and bent. “How do you trade something you’ve already lost?”

“You don’t,” said the shopkeeper plainly. “You trade something you found. And if you’re looking for something you’ve lost, well, you might find it here.”

Most of the things Elain had lost recently couldn’t be traded in a shop. Even so, she wandered across the store, marveling at the shelves of children’s toys. Dolls and plush animals and spinning tops. She considered getting something to bring back for Nyx, but was deterred by the thought that the children these items once belonged to might return to the shop.

She asked, “How do you know if you’re trading something to its rightful owner?”

The shopkeeper hummed. “I always know.”

Elain took that to mean the shopkeeper didn’t care, so long as she was receiving an item of equal value in exchange. But then… how did she make any profit? Her head spun trying to make sense of it, before she reminded herself that trying to make sense of the fae was a tedious and unrewarding task. Often, they made no rational sense at all, and that was just the way they preferred things.

“I don’t think there’s anything here for me,” she said. “I appreciate you letting me look.”

“Nonsense,” the shopkeeper said, now having moved on from the ribbons to arrange stacks of playing cards. “In all my centuries running this trading post, no one has ever wandered in without something to find. Keep looking.”

Elain was beginning to feel flustered, and wondered briefly if she was the lost thing. “Even if I did find something, I have nothing to trade.”

“Nonsense.”

Elain huffed, turning away from the shopkeeper. What if she didn’t want anything in this cursed little shop? Surely she wouldn’t be kept from leaving without buying something? If that was the case, Elain would certainly have words to share with Rhysand about how this shop was run.

She thought about sharing with the shopkeeper that she was the High Lady’s sister, when the sight of a porcelain doll caught her eye. Elain gasped.

“Find something?” The shopkeeper crooned.

It couldn’t be. The doll she’d lost as a little girl was drifting somewhere in the ocean. And even if it had been retrieved, it would not look like the one before her, all smooth, glistening ivory and perfectly clean golden-brown locks of hair. Elain carefully lifted the doll from the shelf, staring into those bright, clever brown eyes. Much like her own.

Was it a trick? A memory plucked from her mind? She glanced over at the shopkeeper, still tirelessly counting and arranging cards. There didn’t seem to be anything predatory about her knowing smile. But it was knowing.

Elain set the doll back on the shelf. It wasn’t hers, just one of the same make. That was the only explanation she could draw for how it ended up here. As she withdrew her hands, her fingers brushed the sides of a wooden box, and she jerked back when a soft, mechanical tink answered her touch.

The shopkeeper paused her counting.

“Sorry,” Elain breathed, pressing a hand to her chest to steady her thundering heart. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

An unimpressed raised brow was her only response. Elain turned back to the box, frowning. It was of simple, plain-looking make, the wood smooth and polished on all sides. She pushed up the top, and her breath hitched when a carving of a small female dancer sprung up from inside. Acting of their own volition, Elain’s fingers sought the underside of the box to find a winding mechanism, twisting the small knob there as if they knew precisely what this box was for, what it did.

The world seemed to still the moment Elain released her fingers, every sleeping doll and ancient tome in the small shop waking to listen as the small wooden dancer began twisting on a single posed foot. As she moved, the box began emitting a slow, mechanically plucked out melody.

Each note hung and lingered, carving its way through the air with a sharpness that demanded to be heard. Elain didn’t so much as breathe in fear of disturbing its song, allowing it to curl around her, tugging at the cusp of a memory. She swore she’d heard it before, though she struggled to place when or where. If she closed her eyes, it evoked an image of a summer garden, draped in moonlight. Her fingers tingled with the feeling of a warm hand, wrapped in hers. And her chest… her chest ached with a sorrow so heavy it could pull down the stars.

It was so at odds with the happy, smiling dancer who twirled and twirled without a care in the world. Though the box itself was light, its weight became more significant the longer the song played, as though it were carrying its grief in the bones of its wood. She could feel it calling to her, an echo to the song of lost love she had been carrying in her own chest.

“Interesting,” the shopkeeper said. “That box has sat untouched in my shop for nearly three centuries. I’ve always wondered who would come to claim it one day.”

“Oh—” Elain sniffed and hastily wiped at a tear slipping down her cheek. She didn’t know when she’d started crying. “This isn’t mine.”

The shopkeeper shrugged. “Sometimes we find lost things and sometimes lost things find us.”

“I can’t—”

“It called to you,” the shopkeeper insisted. “Which means it’s been found. So it’s no longer lost. And since this is a place for lost things, it can’t stay in the shop any longer. Either take it, or I’ll throw it out.”

For some reason, the thought of the box being thrown out was horrifying to Elain. Surely it must have meant a great deal to someone at some point. She said softly, “But I don’t have anything to trade in return.”

“No?” The shopkeeper cocked her head. “Nothing in your pockets?”

She was fishing for coin, no doubt, but Elain realized she did have something in her pockets. Something that was found.

Numbly, she withdrew the handkerchief she’d been given by Lucien.

The shopkeeper grinned ear-to-ear and pointed to a bin just behind Elain. “That will do perfectly. Add it to the box.”

Indeed, behind her shoulder was a box brimming with handkerchiefs.

Her head would only hurt trying to make sense of the logic. “The handkerchief doesn’t belong to me, either.”

“And that’s precisely why you should leave it here,” the shopkeeper reasoned. “It’s lost, and I’ll ensure it finds its rightful owner.”

Just as the jewelry box found its rightful owner, she thought dryly.

But three centuries was a long time to go unclaimed. After the war, there was no way of knowing if its original owner was still alive. And as for the handkerchief… she supposed leaving it here was preferable to what she was likely going to do with it, which was absolutely nothing. She would inevitably put off speaking to Azriel about it just as she avoided telling Lucien why she was really awake in the middle of the night.

It was one less burden off her hands, and she couldn’t say she was sorry to see it go as she dropped it into the box of multicolored fabrics.

#this sounds so good #to be read #elucienweek2024 #elucien

95 notes · View notes