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labellefleur-sauvage · 17 days

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Tempests and Urges

Chapter III of my gift for @stickyelectrons! I'm so very sorry for the delay (it was a surprisingly busy winter for me!) but I hope you enjoy!

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Fic summary and current chapters here

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III.

Lucien had never been to the Continent. Growing up, his tutors had dutifully lectured him about the intricate and long—and dreadfully boring—histories of the Faerie kingdoms across the sea, and how foreign their lands were from those in Prythian. Lucien remembered absolutely none of it. He was the youngest son of a High Lord, with no hope of ever needing to retain this information—why did he need to know of the economic policies of Rask, or whether Vallahan was experiencing a lower crop haul than average? No, he would be much better off learning all there was to know about the six other Courts that comprised his home land, to make allies and friends with the fae who might actually benefit him later on.

He mentally cursed himself for the hundredth time just that morning and tried to remember as much information from his studies of this strange Fae land as possible. Any information would be a boon at this point. All he and Elain has tried to do was enter the great walled city of Montesere’s capital early in the morning, and been immediately stopped by the city’s guards.

“Good morning,” Elain had murmured demurely to the faes holding swords longer than her torso.

The sharp clang of the guard’s metal armor straightening met their greeting. “What business do two Prythians have in Montesere?” a guard asked in a guttural accent. Her dark sharp eyes were narrowed with distrust, her frowning lips framed with deep grooves of disgust.

Elain stared wide eyed. “Apologies,” Lucien quickly replied. “We’re here to visit the sights of Montesere.”

“Yet you come from the east, from the mountains. Very little to look at over there.”

Damn this perceptive female. Lucien put on his most charming smile. “We went hiking in the mountains. We both love nature and walking, and wanted to experience the grandeur of Montesere’s famed peaks.”

The guard cast a disbelieving look over Elain, over her physique that suggested she’d never walked that much in her life. “And both of you went on a days long hiking trip?”

Alright, if niceties wouldn’t work… “Well, I suppose I got to view more than Montesere’s natural beauty, you understand,” Lucien said conspiratorially to the guard, lowering his voice and grinning slightly. Behind him, Elain gasped in outrage.

Miraculously, the guard chuckled. “Yes, a very lucky male you are.” She stepped aside. “Tide’s blessings. Enjoy the city.”

“How dare you!” Elain exclaimed as soon as they were far enough past the city’s walls. “Implying that we—that I—!”

“What would you have me do, Elain?” Lucien asked, annoyed. “From the moment you said ‘good morning’ and not ‘tide’s blessings’ or whatever they say here, they marked us as outsiders. There aren’t too many innocent visitors from Prythian at the moment, and I had to make us appear as non-threatening as possible. It wouldn’t surprise me if there’s someone following our every move even now.” He unclenched his jaw. They needed to keep a low profile, and they’d already spectacularly failed.

Elain looked around wildly, like she might spot some cloaked figure skulking menacingly in the shadows. “Surely they have enough visitors here that we wouldn’t raise any alarm.”

“Any normal visitors to Montesere would arrive by ship. We clearly aren’t merchants or farmers, so our method of entry was already a bit unusual.”

“Well,” Elain asked slowly, “what else do I need to know about Montesere?”

A great question. Lucien spent the next several hours wracking his brain to recall anything about the local customs of this far off fae kingdom. They made their way slowly around the bustling commercial districts in the city, generally making their way towards the docks. He remembered hearing from Eris, during some stuffy meeting in his youth, that Monteserens haggled and bartered for everything, which only came to mind when Elain had purchased a small pastry for breakfast and handed over the five coins without complaint. The baker’s eyes had bulged with disbelief, then he yelled something in a foreign language to someone at another stall, who openly laughed at him and Elain.

It was no use. Lucien decided that watching people would be easier than trying to recall something Armand, his oldest tutor, had tried teaching him over 300 years ago. Montesere, being surrounded by the sea on two sides, owed much of their livelihood and wealth to the ocean, and thus, paid respectable homage to their bountiful yet cruel god everywhere. Small bowls of seawater were placed inside the entrance of every building they ventured into, for people to dip their fingers in and continuously receive the sea’s blessings, he assumed, observing a gaggle of females perform the practice when he and Elain entered a tailor’s shop. Elain was about to begin wondering the store when Lucien surreptitiously guided her back to the bowl to perform the ritual.

She adapted easily though, gracefully dabbing the salty water on her wrists then floated amongst the racks, selecting a modest wool cloak and haggling the price down ten silvers with a satisfied smile. There was no future for Elain as a spy—she was far too kind and free with her emotions for that line of work—but as an emissary, charming potential allies and adapting to new situations…Lucien could see a glimmer of potential.

“It’s been almost an entire hour since someone openly laughed at us or mocked us,” Elain remarked drolly as they exited the shop and took a random turn down another busy street, stuffing her new cloak in her bag. “A rousing success.”

Lucien gave a half grin. “At this rate, we’ll be proper Monteserens in no time.”

Elain looked around. “Besides booking passage on a ship, what else do we need to do?”

“Find accommodation for the night, but there should be enough guest houses around town that it shouldn’t be an issue.”

Her eyes gleamed and she sent him a sideways grin. “Since we most likely won’t be back to Montesere for some time after this, want to explore and see if we can avoid being the laughingstock of the city?”

If Lucien felt like a fish out of water—damn these seafaring Fae for making him think in puns—then at least Elain had grown a pair of gills and was flourishing. Ever since she told him off after entering the city, her eyes were wide and her mouth open in near permanent wonder and awe. Lucien couldn’t blame her. The city was built onto the hills and cliffs overlooking the impressive sea and docks, with the wealthiest inhabitants living so far up the hill as to be in the clouds.

Most fae in Montesere were wealthy, and the city shoved its opulence in its visitor’s faces. The roads were paved with hand-painted bricks of various shades of blue, so that the streets themselves resembled flowing rivers and streams that led to intricate marble fountains in different central squares. One of these squares, adorned with an enchanted marble statue of a dolphin that moved and bobbed around its pedestal on its own, held a host of fine jewelry artisans. Elain watched one Lesser fae, her gray fingers nimble and quick as she worked the fragilest of materials—opals, obsidian, sea shells—into necklaces and dangling earrings. Elain’s fingers grazed a small pearl ring, longing clear on her face, before she turned around to watch the dancing dolphin.

Lucien picked up the ring. It wasn’t the largest pearl ring, and even had a few imperfections: it was dull, and oddly shaped. Its price tag was more modest as a result, and he certainly had enough savings stashed away in Prythian to purchase it, should he wish to.

He set the ring down. No use thinking about buying an extravagant gift for a female who said she wanted nothing to do with him after their journey, as much as his inner beast begged him to throw away all the coin Rhys had given them away on a trinket that would likely be lost should he purchase it.

They continued exploring the city and what it had to offer. The architecture was unlike anything he’d ever seen in Prythian. Buildings of all shapes and sizes made out of a sand colored stone with red tiled roofs surrounded them as they walked the city’s narrow and windy blue streets, with perfectly manicured trees and hedges lining the boulevards. High Fae in fashionable and daring outfits strolled by. A few wore ensembles that wouldn’t be out of place in Summer or Dawn, but most wore so little clothing that even Helion would be shocked. Females in scraps of nets and gauze leisurely walked the streets with equally immodest and barely clothed partners, their hair in extravagant updos and paper-thin parasols resting on their shoulders.

“Stop staring!” Elain hissed as Lucien’s eye darted to and away from the swaying hips of a curvaceous High Fae woman covered in a blue chiffon dress that was nearly see-through and resembled the ocean’s waves, her heeled boots clacking against the brick.

“Like you weren’t ogling that shirtless male that just walked by.”

“I wasn’t ogling,” Elain retorted. “I was merely…observing the vastly different fashions of the Continent.”

Lucien shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “It’s alright to look. Although,” he lowered his voice and leaned into her, noting that she imperceptibly leaned towards him, “I think that blue dress would look so lovely on you.” Her mouth formed a little ‘O,’ and Lucien walked down the street with a smile on his face.

The smell of the sea was vibrant here, but especially so the nearer they got to the docks. Lucien had little sea experience, as Autumn only had a few rocky and briny shores along its eastern coast, and he had never been to a dockyard, much less the largest in a seafaring nation. The smell of salt and fish was strong, nearly overwhelming, but tempered with enough richness and freshness that prevented him from burying his head in the crook of his arm.

Faes of all kind—High and Lesser—rushed around the crowded docks, shouting orders, carrying cargo, and preparing their huge ships for sail. It was hot and congested. Someone knocked into Lucien as they rushed by and a throng of workers swarmed around him. By the time he fought his way out of the crowd, Elain was nowhere to be seen.

“Shit.” Lucien looked around wildly. They’d only been in the city for half a day and he’d already lost the only fae he had to keep track of. He jogged along the docks, looking for that familiar head of brown hair. How had he lost her?

There was no trace of Elain; even her scent had vanished under the fresh smells he’d just been admiring. His heart quickened furiously as he shoved anyone in his way. Lucien had not just lost his partner on this mission, but the female who could ruin him with a few words, his—

The beating in his chest was even stronger and louder now. Not with worry, he realized after a second, but with something deeper, something he’d only felt once before: the mating bond. His chest thrummed with recognition as Elain tugged on their bond, whether she realized it or not, drawing him to her. Desperate, Lucien followed the bond to its other half.

Lucien found Elain at the far end of the dock, partially obstructed behind stacks of crates, staring up at the largest male he had ever seen. Lucien wasn’t necessarily a small male, but there were plenty of males that were taller or wider than him; the Night Court’s general, for example, or even his oldest brother Eris. Both either taller or more muscular than himself, but Lucien hadn’t lied to Elain—he was a trained warrior, and knew a fae’s strength was more than just one’s muscles. He was lean but muscular, fast, and his fire magic was deadly.

Still, Lucien wouldn’t have said no to a few more inches or an additional twenty or thirty pounds on his frame, just for some extra assurances in this instant. The male towering over Elain was at least 7 feet tall, with more tattoos covering his pale, scarred skin than was on the three overgrown bats of the Night Court. One of his biceps was wider than both of Lucien’s put together, with a thick, barrel chest and thighs thicker than a tree trunks.

Despite the fierceness lining her face, Lucien could feel Elain’s fear through the bond. The male crowded further against Elain and leered down at her. “And what’s a pretty lady like you doing here, all by yourself on the docks?”

“Let me pass, please.”

“Oh, a foreigner.” Lucien could hear the sick delight in the male’s voice. “Has anyone showed you how we welcome visitors to our lovely city?” The male reached a hand out, and Lucien struggled to quietly sneak past the crates blocking him from Elain.

Elain sneered. “I didn’t come here to look at your ugly face.”

Lucien couldn’t help his small smile at Elain’s sass, even as his heart sank and he struggled to get to her. The male’s broad shoulder’s tightened. “You wench—”

She gave the male a condescending look from head to toe. “How does any ship you board manage to stay afloat? Do they just throw you overboard to serve as an anchor?”

“You fucking bitch, I’ll make you regret that.”

Summoning his fire magic in his hands, Lucien lept up behind the male and wrapped one burning hand around the male’s mouth and another around his throat, his legs firmly wrapped around his opponent’s midsection. He held on tight, tighter than he’d ever grasped anything before, his rage at someone threatening and insulting his mate fueling his desire to hurt and maim and kill.

Lucien smelled burning flesh, the scent so acrid that not even the calming smells of the sea could mask the terrible odor emanating from the male’s body. The fae struggled against Lucien, tried to break the death grip that was threating to suffocate him, but found no amount of muscles and raw strength could compete with a male who needed to protect his mate.

“Apologize,” Lucien demanded, ripping the hand over the male’s mouth away. Lucien didn’t need to look at his hand to know that the warm liquid staining his fingers was blood.

“S-sorry!” the male gasped. Good enough. Lucien slapped his spread hand over the entirety of the male’s face again, his flames melting the male’s fresh and sinew away from his skull. The fae’s defeated groan was one of the most delightful things Lucien had ever heard.

The male’s body trembled underneath him. He needed to finish him before his legs gave out. Lucien leaned into the male’s head, so close his lips grazed the male’s pale, pointed ear. “Get the fuck away from my mate,” he growled, low enough that Elain couldn’t hear, then lept off the male and pushed his swaying body off the docks into the sea.

It took a few moments for Lucien to calm down enough to remember himself. The sounds of the busy dock gradually drifted to his ears as he took one calming breath after another. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d lost control and his inner beast took charge like that. A frisson of emotion split through his chest, and Lucien looked to Elain.

“Elain,” Lucien said softly, her fear making him sick. Her eyes were wide and glassy, her body stiff as she stood watching him. Fear, and another, barely perceptible smell, emanated from her slight forn. He held up his hands before remembering the blood staining his flesh. Reaching over the docks to swipe his hands into the sea, he held up his clean hands and slowly approached her.

“Are you alright?”

Elain barked a short, high pitched laugh. “Am I alright? I just watched you melt the skin off a male’s face with your bare hands! Of course I’m not alright!” She glanced into the sea. “Did you kill him?”

“I don’t care,” Lucien answered truthfully without thinking, but grimaced when Elain flinched. “I’m sorry you had to see that, Elain, but what that male was saying to you…what he was going to do to you, I couldn’t stand by and do nothing.”

“But did you have to be so, so…violent? It was ghastly, barbaric—”

“It was Fae, Elain.” Lucien took another tentative step towards the female. “That violence is within each and every fae, always lurking just under our skin, looking for any excuse to break free and punish those who threaten those we care about.”

“You’re wrong,” Elain whispered, looking devastated. “I’m nothing like that, like you. I’m not Fae.”

Her horror roiled his stomach, but better for her to face the truth now. “That’s where I think you’re wrong, Elain.” Slowly, he reached a hand out, blood still under his fingernails, and entwined his large hand with her small, clean, perfect one. She tried to pull her hand from his but he held on. “Whether you accept it or not, you’re no longer human. You’re as much Fae as I am, and you have your own inner beast waiting to escape. Cauldron, were you even aware of the things you were saying to that male, how you were taunting him?” He studied her hand and the long, slightly pointed nails on each finger. If she so desired it, she could easily rip someone’s throat out now. “Would you have said those things as a human? You’re fae now and your beast is raring for a fight. "

Elain was quiet, her lower lip trembling. “I don’t want to destroy the world or be violent.”

“Then let me be your protector, Elain.” He moved their twined hands together and lowered his voice. “A higher being connected us for some reason—take advantage of it to do want you want within reason, find yourself, with the knowledge that your mate will be nearby to keep you safe.” He darted a quick look up to Elain’s face at her small intake of breath. “Which is, I suspect, at least part of the reason why you insisted on joining me, correct?”

She hung her head. “I don’t want to give you any false promises about…us.”

Lucien’s chest ached but he gave Elain an unaffected grin. “Of course not, my lady. We’re associates journey towards a common goal, right?” He frowned. “Even if you had ulterior motives for joining me.”

Elain withdrew her hand from his grasp, her gaze cold. “You cannot fault me for trying to find my place in the world I was unfairly thrust into.”

“Fault you? Of course not. Do I perhaps think you foolish for attempting to do so during a critical and dangerous mission?” Lucien shrugged, rather than state the obvious.

Elain stepped away on wobbly legs. “We’ve already established you’re not a gentleman, so say what’s on your mind!” she snapped, all fear of him forgotten.

Lucien was glad—he’d rather see Elain furious with him than afraid of him, or afraid of herself. “Fine. While I commend your courage and need to find yourself in this new world, I think you may be in a bit over your head and are too stubborn to admit it. No, I know you’re too stubborn to admit it.”

She paused. “You don’t think me too weak to accompany you?”

“There are many things I find you, Elain Archeron, but weak is not one of them.”

They stared at each other, unmoving, for several seconds. “Everyone else always thought me too quiet and reserved. Nesta and Feyre are bold; I’m supposed to be the quiet one.” Elain cocked her head. “It’s nice, not having that expectation.”

Lucien could relate all too well to other’s idealized expectations and the pressures it created. “Well, one benefit of being fae: you’re strong enough now that you probably could have punched that male and sent him flying off the docks, so I don’t believe you have to worry about being weak.”

“I didn’t mean weak in that way.”

“I know. I don’t think you’re weak in any sense of the word.”

Elain bit her bottom lip, but Lucien could see the corners of her mouth raise slightly all the same. “You overestimate my ability to fight. I’ve never hit someone in my life.”

“That’s alright; we still need to find a ship for passage. Perhaps you’ll find some other poor soul to antagonize and I can teach you.” Lucien lightly grabbed Elain’s wrist and pulled her out of the cover of the crates. He looked around; no one was staring at them, so it appeared nobody saw—or cared—about their altercation. Lucien dropped her hand as they began walking down the docks, but Elain stayed next to him.

“Let’s find us a ship that can take us where we need to go. The sooner it leaves, the better.”

“Any requirements?” Elain asked, her eyes wide again at the unfamiliar sights surrounding them.

“Large enough that it won’t topple over, and preferably without any holes in its hull. Truthfully, I know very little about ships.”

Elain hummed. “My father was a merchant, and worked with several different ships and crews to transport his goods to and from the Continent. That ship, for example,” pointing to a large boat to their right, “probably wouldn’t be comfortable for us.”

“Why is that?” Lucien had been eyeing that ship as an option for them, and could see no obvious issues. Its sails were intact, the hull complete, and though a bit plain, it looked clean enough.

“Look at its gangway, see how it’s all dirty and covered in…filth? That means they’re probably transporting a large number of animals, so it will be messy and smelly and loud. If there’s nothing else it will work, but…” Elain shrugged. “We could probably do better.”

“I see,” Lucien said slowly, watching as several large oxes were indeed shoved up the creaky gangway onto the boat. “Well spotted. What about that one?”

Elain looked at a ship further down the dock Lucien pointed out. It was larger than the first, its sails bright white and hull shiny. Someone had even painted the wood in bright, colorful paints.

“Definitely not. That ship has never sailed before. It’s bad luck to journey on a ship’s maiden voyage.”

Lucien hummed. Must be a human superstition. They continued leisurely strolling down the dock. “In that case, what do you recommend?”

Elain scanned the dozens of ships around them as they continued to walk, her eyes sharp and quick. Eventually her gazed focused on one ship. “That one.”

“That one?” Lucien’s eyebrows raised in surprise. It was a plain and unremarkable ship, not the largest or smallest, with no finery or distinguishing features. “What makes it suitable for us?”

Elain nodded her head to a gruff looking male studiously inspecting several crates loaded with spices. “Because the ship’s cook has ordered a large number of different spices for food. If the captain cares that much about keeping their passengers happy, they must run a decent ship. Plus, look at that trunk.” They watched as a large, painted chest was brought onto the ship. It was decorated with gold accents and had small, brass feet on the bottom corners, to protect the chest’s painted bottom. “That’s the personal chest of a very wealthy fae. Those with money don’t trust just anyone to transfer themselves or their goods long distances. We want this ship,” Elain finished, looking pleased with herself.

“How do you know that’s the ship’s cook?”

“The grease stained apron and burn scars on his arms look convincing.”

Lucien hummed. “If you’re sure…”

But Elain was already off, moving towards the male wearing his dirty apron. “Tide’s blessings! We’d like to inquire about booking passage on this fine ship.”

“Main deck, talk to the female in the blue jacket,” the male said without looking at either Elain or Lucien. He gave a grunt of dismay when he opened a black tin overflowing with a red powder. “And where is my Raskian paprika, Szechka? I know authentic Raskian paprika straight from the fields when I see it, and this shit isn’t it.”

Leaving the angry cook and his stuttering supplier, the pair walked up the sturdy gangway to the ship’s main deck. It was controlled pandemonium, much like the state of the dock: faes hurriedly carrying supplies and parcels onto the boat, performing last minute cleanings and mending. Lucien looked up to see a small winged fae hovering in midair while carefully patching a hole in the main sail.

It took them several moments to find the female. Shorter than even Elain and even slighter, the Lesser Fae had light gray skin and black hair. She stood near the helm, watching the movement of every being on the ship with a keen eye. A cracked, brown leather notebook was in her slightly scaly hands, and she occasionally jotted something down in the book.

“Tide’s blessings,” Lucien said, approaching the woman. She looked up at them with wholly black, narrowed eyes. “We were told to speak with you concerning booking passage for ourselves on this ship.”

“Aye, I’m the one you’d wish to speak with.” The woman’s voice was soft and wispy, each word floating away on the sea breeze as soon as it left her thin lips. “We’re set to leave tomorrow morning, making our way down the coast to a neutral village in the mortal lands then back north, along the eastern and northern coasts of Prythian to arrive in Hybern 43 days after settling out.”

Lucien kept his face blank, though the ship being bound for Hybern unsettled him. Rhys was right, that the Continental Fae were indeed more comfortable with Hybern than previously thought. “Are you planning on stopping at the Slevibor Islands while making your way down the coast to the mortal lands?”

The Slevibor Islands were several small, nearly uninhabited islands along the western coast of the Continent, due west from Koschei’s Lake. The islands were near the start of the river that he and Elain would take to get to the death god’s lake. Only one small port town, rumored to be filled with dangerous pirates, occupied the islands, though perhaps the rumors held some truth to them, based on the way the Lesser fae’s eyes widened. “We weren’t planning on stopping at Slevibor, no. Very few reputable ships do.”

“And is there any way we could convince the captain to make a special trip?” Lucien asked, subtly flashing his full coin purse at the female.

The fae pursed her lips. “Interesting that two faes from Prythian need to visit the Slevibor Islands so badly that they’re willing to pay extra for the trip.”

“Nothing that interesting, just doing a bit of travel.”

The female gave a noncommital ‘humph’ and opened her aged notebook and a quill. “Spring Court, I’m assuming?” she asked, not looking at either of them. “You, especially,” she pointed at Elain, “have the look of Spring about you.”

Elain blushed, but Lucien had to admit the fae was correct: Elain looked as fresh and innocent as many of the Spring Court nobility, especially with her wide, brown eyes and lovely hair. “Er, that’s right,” Lucien said eventually when he realized both Elain and the fae female were looking at him expectantly. “We’re from Spring. How could you tell?”

“My mother was originally from Spring.” The female continued taking notes down in her book, the quill resting against the webbing between her fingers. “She fled shortly after the old High Lord was murdered and the new one ascended. She could see the writing on the wall about the new High Lord, knew nothing good was to come from him. From what I hear from the waters, she was correct, and my sisters who remain are not prospering like they once did.”

Lucien started. Of course the female was at least part water-wraith. He knew little about the treatment of Lesser fae in the Continent, but if it was anything like Prythian, the fact that this female appeared to have a high ranking position on the ship meant she had beaten many prejudices to get this far. Unease at hearing someone talk so crudely yet accurately about Tamlin—at one time, his dearest and only friend in the world—settled low in his gut.

“My father was a merchant,” the female went on conversationally, seeing the earlier surprise in Lucien’s face. “I was born on his ship—this ship, in fact—and inherited it when he retired. Decades now.” She tapped on her notebook with her quill and looked up at them from the corners of her eyes. “How much coin do you have?”

Lucien told her, and though the female tried to remain stoic, he could smell her excitement at the sum. “We won’t stop at Slevibor, but I can have some crewmembers row you two to the Islands, provided you both pack light. No trunks. Meals are included while you’re on the boat. Depending on our timing, we may even be able to send you off with some provisions, but no promises. We’re tight on space, but I’ll find room for two extra hammocks. Any questions?”

Elain and Lucien had none, and the woman smiled, her mouth full of pointed teeth. “Then let me welcome you to the Eueteria. My name is Thetis, and I’ll be your captain. What are your names?”

Lucien and Elain provided fake names to Captain Thetis. “Oran and Phoebe,” she said, adding their names to an already long list of others. “Reason for travel?”

“Uh,” Lucien began. He didn’t think anyone would particularly care why he and Elain were joining the ship, as long as they paid, so he didn’t have a specific backstory planned. “We’re… um…”

“On our honeymoon!” Elain gave Captain Thetis a wide, eager smile at the same time she forcefully grabbed Lucien’s arm. “Newly married. Oran here,” Elain said, squeezing Lucien’s arm for dear life, “knows it’s my life’s dream to visit every inch of the Continent and like a good…husband…he’s giving me the best wedding present I could have dreamed of!”

Lucien was positive that their new captain did not believe them. “Alright,” Thetis said slowly, looking between Lucien and Elain’s flushed and awkwardly smiling faces. “I’ll put ‘pleasure’ as your reason for travel.”

Lucien was sure his face was as red as his hair for several minutes after they provided a deposit and were given instructions for the next morning. They left the docks, each refusing to look at each other, and made their way back into town, all while Lucien wondered: why?

Why had Elain said they were newly married? She had made it clear to him that she wasn’t interested in him in that way, even if her body sometimes thought otherwise. Perhaps she simply panicked—loath as he was to admit it, the cover story of two besotted, hapless fae on their honeymoon was a decent explanation for why there were traveling alone together.

It probably didn’t even matter, Lucien thought as they stopped at a colorful flower market. Based on the long list of people already traveling on the boat, he and Elain would be lucky to each have their own hammock in the large shared sleeping quarter. Nothing would happen. They would be on the ship for just a few days, get to the Slevibor Islands, then make the arduous journey along the river that would take them directly to Koschei’s Lake.

Directly to the most dangerous being perhaps in the world.

#elucien #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #elucien fanfic #lucien x elain #my fics #my fic #acotar #guess who's back #with worldbuiling #if there are any errors or issues #you didnt see them

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