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elliemarchetti · 6 months

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Instinct

The follow up to Habit Rouge, or the actual Halloween party, in Eris’s POV.

I stole LoA’s name from @andrigyn's A Swing in the Dark, check it out if you haven’t already because it’s very good, just like everything she does.

Plot: Eris recognizes Nesta’s scent at the party.

Warnings: no beta, we die like heroes.

Words: 3049

The music was strangely to his taste, nothing like the electronic crap that nowadays played on the radio wherever he went. For too many years the mortals had depended on technology for everything they did, and the absence of a DJ in favour of live music only served to demonstrate they weren’t welcome at the event. Whoever the organizer was, they certainly weren’t Eris’s age, or they would’ve preferred strings and trumpets to guitars and drums, but he knew how to find satisfaction in what he was given, especially considering the chaos of bodies moving on the improvised dancefloor.

With all those werewolves around, the smell wasn't really the best, and soon the stench of sweat would overtake those of the expensive essences the witches had doused themselves with, but even then, he would bear it, if only to find someone to spend that night of revelry with. It was his last lover who invited him, a witch from New Orleans with long white hair and deep blue eyes, the same shade as the ocean on hot summer days. Appropriate, considering her specialty was water manipulation. He could see her among the patrons of the bar, together with her brother and cousin. To the casual eye, they could all have been mistaken for twins, their features so similar and exotic. The oldest of them had his muscular arm around the shoulders of a middle-aged woman, and judging by the adoring smiles he flashed her from time to time, she must’ve been his partner. In the human world, in the broad daylight he had to avoid for centuries, such an attitude would certainly have caused a stir, but here it was normal, encouraged even. After all, although the sorcerer looked twenty-five at best, he must’ve been at least four times older. Surprisingly, Eris too felt his actual age on that chilly night.

He was born in Spain during a violent period, on a year in which freedom was only a distant memory and you couldn’t trust your neighbour, the risk of being sold to the Inquisition as Jew out of mere envy so high that one barely allowed distant family members to visit. The matter shouldn’t have affected him, the Vanserras were fervent Catholics, and it hadn’t, until Eris turned thirteen. He still remembered vividly the day he found out his mother was pregnant for the seventh time. His father had organized a sumptuous banquet, and had announced the happy news with such satisfaction Eris almost feared he wanted to demonstrate to the guests how active he still was in the nuptial bed. Lucien was born the following year, and despite the mild winter, the blood of the maids who had assisted Lady Vanserra during the birth must’ve run cold. The child had auburn hair, and eyes of the same russet as his mother, but his skin was noticeably darker than that of his brothers, so much so that the whispers he was a half Moor reached Eris’s tutor, who was engaged in a lesson with the three oldest children, before they arrived to Beron’s ears.

“Are you sure?” the man asked under his breath, and although the other two students had taken advantage of the opportunity to distract themselves from their books, Eris listened attentively.

“Half Maghreb, I swear,” the woman replied, before disappearing back into the corridors of the villa. They called it the Forest House, and although there were various woods in Spain, the name was due to the quantity of fruit trees the founder of the family had planted all around the estate. Acres and acres of land that Eris knew like the back of his hand, an advantage he used to smuggle out the suspiciously silent baby.

“Run,” his mother had told him that night, still covered in dried sweat, holding back tears. “Leave Spain before your father comes back and never return.”

Eris had kept his promise, even when he discovered they’d both been burned alive. Helion hadn’t embraced God, and Lady Vanserra hadn’t regretted having loved him.

How a fourteen-year-old boy had managed to keep a newborn alive could only be explained through the compassion of strangers: he’d met women who had acted as wet nurses, and had been offered all sorts of lucky passages; he’d sold some expensive heirlooms for twice their value, and he’d been hired as a kennel master even though he had no previous experience, just a great love for animals.

They’d reached England, where their aunts still lived, when Lucien had already learned how to properly talk and walk. The two women, younger than their deceased sister, had silently mourned Aureliana’s terrible fate, and at the same time did everything possible to make their nephews forget the horrors they had to endure, but in 1563 the plague reached the gates of London, and with it more suffering came. In that wicked year, Lucien lost his eye, and Eris was initiated into the supernatural in a rather unceremonious way.

Everyone knew the symptoms of the plague, the disease that had wiped out nearly half of Europe's population just two hundred years earlier. High fever, headaches and severe weakness were only the first of a long list of ailments that led to almost certain death, and when aunt Drusilla began to suffer from them without apparent relief despite the compresses and treatments her family subjected her to, the only reasonable solution was quarantine. Although it didn’t happen so often, it wasn’t unusual for some members of the same household to get sick and others not, but when the terror reached its peak, and the woman stopped sleeping because of the nausea, officers dresses in long black tunics, with thick leather gloves and masks that still populated Eris’s nightmares, showed up at their door to drag her to the lazaret. Lucien had tried to oppose, to place himself between the bedchamber of the woman who acted as mother and father for him, but someone had drawn his sword, and before Eris could intervene, a long red gash had opened on his brother’s face. The deep cut ran from above his eyebrow almost to his chin, and although they managed to stop the resulting heavy bleeding, Lucien didn’t wake up for days. Seeing his little brother, the one for whom he’d risked his life so many years ago, fighting between life and death had pushed him to extremes he never thought he would reach, and in the middle of the night he’d brought a doctor of ill repute to his room, without the knowledge of his grieving aunt. The man was deathly pale, with deep dark circles surrounding his pitch-black eyes. He spoke with a heavy accent, and something in his movements seemed ancient, dating back to times when there weren’t abundant wealth and urban centres teeming with life, but remote villages and a life marked by the alternation of the seasons. He warned him that he would have to pay dearly for his brother’s recovery, and that Lucien would no longer be able to lead a normal existence.

“A solitary life, with an insatiable thirst,” he concluded, after which he laughed at his determination to stay by his side despite everything.

“You would die, and you will do it long before he goes back to being who you now call brother,” he’d warned, so Eris asked if there was no way to follow him on that path, to condemn himself too, if this would serve to help him.

“It's possible,” the doctor confirmed, “but you'll have to pay double.”

The price to reduce his existence to the shadow of what could’ve been, to be dominated by predatory instincts that scratched his chest and broke his ribs if they weren’t indulged, started with the blood of two servants. Eris had sent for them on a plausible pretext, and then watched the doctor drain them as if they were tasty glasses of fine wine, no emotion in his eyes. Soon he too learned how thrilling the taste of healthy people could be, and how bitter that of the sick and the drug addicts was.

For almost fifty years, Lucien hadn’t forgiven him for that choice. It was too much, death preferable to damnation. Eris had told him that he could choose his own path, go out into the sunlight and burn to ashes if that was what he wished for, but at least his conscience was clear and he would know he did everything possible to keep him alive. Over time, his hatred had weakened, and by the beginning of the eighteenth century the roles seemed to have reversed. The habits and customs of the 1700s definitely suited Lucien’s character more than Eris’s, and the long scar had become the protagonist of daring stories that attracted the admiration of men and the adoration of women. Fame obviously proved to be a double-edged sword, making the borders of unified Britain too small for the comely pairing, so they visited the Empire of Denmark and Norway, Sweden, and the ever-expanding Russian lands, from whose territory they witnessed the fall of the Holy Roman Empire and the coronation of Francis II as Emperor of Austria.

In Moscow, Lucien met his first love. Jesminda was a former serf, a poor woman hardened by work and the constant cold that characterized her homeland. She didn’t care that Lucien was a vampire, nor did he care about the dirty looks they were given when they walked the fancier streets, but her family soon forbade her from seeing a man she wasn’t married with, and since there was no way for Lucien to enter a church without perishing, he had to abandon her. More than Eris himself, who knew very little of love at the time, it was Vasilisa Melentyeva who consoled him. Sixth wife of Tsar Ivan the Terrible, after her husband sent her to a monastery to forget about her and have the freedom to remarry, she fled, resolute in not watching life pass before her eyes, only to end up in the hand of a Death God who first trapped her under the ice of Lake Baikal, and then, when he’d grown tired, cursed her to live the daily hours as a flaming bird, so she could act as a reminder of his immense powers for the growing supernatural population. After a quarter of a millennium, and with the impossibility of communicating when most of the people were awake, Vasilisa found it extremely difficult to adapt to the innovations that had radically changed the daily life she remembered, but in the end she succeeded, and the meeting with a heartbroken Lucien had solidified her will to live.

The latest addition to the bizarre group of redheads, and the one who broke the pattern with his brown hair, had been a sarcastic witch hunter whose soul had been trapped in a disturbing ring decorated with his own eye. The maker of said piece of jewellery had a history with the guy, he killed her sister during a previous job, but Eris pitied the finding he made at the end of the 19th century, and since he needed a specific set of skills to reconstruct a body, he, Lucien and the beautiful Vassa moved to France in hope to win over the leader of a renowned Aquitaine congregation. Grateful for what they did for him, and without any ties to his previous home, Jurian remained with them, discovering to his horror he was unable to age. Immortal and immutable were the only adjectives the magical community had managed to use to describe him, aggravating the quartet’s need to move whenever the local population became suspicious.

In 1915, at the outbreak of the First World War, two vampires, a recently reborn phoenix and a human frozen in time boarded the hold of a merchant ship and fled to America, landing in New York together with tens of thousands of Bulgarian, Greek and Romanians refugees. It was there that their paths parted, and nor for lack of love for each other, but because Eris simply wanted a retired life, far from suffering and prejudice, while Lucien and Jurian aspired to carry on Vassa’s desire to help those in need by bringing a smile and a moment of relief.

It was only much later, after the war ended and the Twenties started to roar, that Eris saw their performance for the first time. The Band of Exiles hid their peculiarities in plain sight, so Lucien, who certainly couldn’t die from a bad fall, was now an improvised acrobat, Queen Vasilisa was a bird of rare plumage and Jurian her tamer, who guided her through courses made of fire rings and mid-air pirouettes. When the spectators had finally emerged from the tent, and the two brothers had a moment to talk alone, Lucien had admitted that they didn’t earn much from the tickets, but at least they managed to lead a life worthy of being called one.

At the end of the decade, when the Great Depression hit the Unites States like a hurricane, Eris settled in Boston on a semi-permanent basis, buying for a paltry price an apartment that at the time could be considered quite luxurious. Finding clothes and sustenance was certainly not difficult for a vampire, and the long immobility to which he was forced by the scarcity of entertainment and jobs suited for his condition allowed him to claim a small number of victims, who went unnoticed thanks to his refined techniques of corpses concealment.

His favourite hunting area was undoubtedly the Public Garden, a place that exuded magic and attracted both supernatural beings and humans alike. There he’d encountered The Morrigan, who he’d helped escape her homophobic immortal family, and there he also met his first male lover, a friend of the aforementioned who was able to merge with shadows. Their relationship had been brief and passionate, but then Azriel had reunited with his friends waiting for him further south, and he’d never heard from him again. Just when he thought his life had fallen back into a monotonous routine, he saw Nesta, a witch with unearthly beauty and an icy gaze, so good at concealing her nature that he tried to seduce her like a fool in an attempt to feed on her. When she laughed in his face, he’d decided she would be his partner for life, no matter what he had to do. The courtship had been relentless, made of expensive gifts, attentions and promises, and when she’d finally been his, Eris had wondered if the Paradise he’d studied about as a child might not be on earth for those who couldn’t yearn for eternal grace. They’d spend years of pure, unconditional joy, until he talked too much, until he revealed feelings she likely wasn’t ready to face. She’d left him after a wonderful night at the theatre, leaving behind her intoxicating scent and a short note of apology. She’d told him her sister urgently needed assistance, and she would get in touch as soon as possible, but it had never happened, and Eris’s local acquaintances had reported that she’d been engaging in a vulgar affair with a werewolf almost five inches taller than him, with arms as wide as tree trunks.

During the 80’s, the neighbourhood where Eris still resided was raided by a gang of thieves. On a mild spring night, they took from him years of memories and the vast majority of the things belonging to the woman he loved, and although he managed to buy back almost everything in local pawn shops and flea markets, her perfume had disappeared from the fabrics, and with it his hope of reliving the moments spent together. Of the few missing pieces, the one he felt most sad for was the red velvet dress she’d worn on that last evening, the one that left her back bare, just a golden chain dangling down her spine. For a brief moment, Eris though he recognized the bodice among the people moving on the dance floor, but his attention was drawn by a lanky witch who nearly spilled the drinks she was holding on his jacket, and when he turned again, the vision disappeared like a cruel hallucination.

“I’m surprised to find you partying in such an unrefined place,” a familiar voice, one he hadn’t heard in over a hundred years, teased. The last time he encountered Vassa, her tone and body had been that of a child, so different from those of the woman in her sixties who had turned to ash one morning in France instead of taking on her usual bird appearance. Now, in front of him stood a decaying beauty, but the playful twinkle in her blue eyes was always the same. Her skin was no longer as white as the day he met her, but pleasantly tanned, a healthy golden colour that highlighted her refined features, and her hair were of a vibrant shade of red, no white in sight, surely thanks to box hair dye. Next to her, Jurian looked younger than he remembered him, but it must’ve been a simple reflection of the years passing for one and not the other.

“I see only one Queen here,” he replied, before pulling his friends into a quick embrace. With the exception of Vasilisa, his small group wasn’t particularly fond of canonical displays of affection, but given the prolonged distance, it almost seemed obligatory to seek for physical contact, a reminder they were all real and alive.

“Where’s my favourite acrobat?” he asked, scanning the crowd behind them with a hopeful gaze.

“He must’ve lost himself in his witch’s embrace. Elain never seems to tire of the old-time poems he recites at every hour of the day, and he…” Jurian started, but his renowned vulgarity was interrupted when Vassa elbowed him in the ribs. To everyone else, his words may have seemed harsh, but Eris recognized the tenderness in his expression as the same he wore when thinking of his brother.

He was just about to ask them if they were going to stay nearby for a while, when an unmistakable scent hit his nostrils, so intense it stunned him.

Nesta was at that party, and he had every intention of finding her.

#halloween themed fic #technically it's a modern au with a lot of historical references #neris #eris vanserra #nesta archeron #past azris #because they don't have to be my otp to recognize their potential #mentioned elucien #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #if you pay attention i hinted at other ships too in this and the previous part #but since there's no name to one of the partners you can do what you want with this info #asks and requests to extend this universe are super welcome #jurian #vassa

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witch-and-her-witcher · 6 months

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On an Autumn Wind Swiftly

Elucien | Explicit | Ancient Rituals Gone Awry, Mpreg, Feelings

ao3

Summary:

The spell that left the Lady’s lips slithered around Elain’s ankle, up her pleated skirt along her leg, and entered her with a warm, wet rush.

“What — !”

This was no fit of her mind. The hairs on the back of Elain’s neck raised, her own magic began to whisper at her fingertips in defense. Her pelvis filled with a strange weight, a flutter of promise for — what? What spell had the Lady of Autumn cast on her that filled her senses with woodoak and crisp leaves, mostly loamy but also touched with something iron-tanged?

“Mother,” Lucien chided. “Please, she has barely stepped foot inside. Give us time to settle before you begin your witchcraft.”

Lucien's return to his home after the end of his banishment doesn't go quite to plan for the newly married and mated couple.

Mother knows best?

#spooky halloween vibes #but this fic will mostly center around ~ feelings ~#fae being fae #creepy LoA is a love language #elucien #elain x lucien #acotar #acotar fanfic #my writing

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fieldofdaisiies · 1 year

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Elucien | Fox and Fawn

Halloween Elucien special 🎃

type: fluff/smut warning(s): mature content word count: 2846

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was hot in the room, boiling actually. Humidity was rising. And forming one clear thought that did not directly go to Elain Archeron seemed like a sheer impossibility for Lucien Vanserra.

The tall male was leaning against the wall in the family living room, his arms crossed in front of his broad chest. He felt a little bit silly wearing those plush fox ears but somehow Feyre had convinced him to do it, saying how happy it would make her if he came dressed up as a fox to her Halloween party. So Lucien did it—Feyre was his friend after all and it was just a pair of silly ears.

Lucien's heart was beating rapidly while he was assessing Elain the same way as she was checking him out. A fox warching its prey. Lucien had to chuckle at that thought. What the hell was going on in his mind?

Their gazes occasionally met, strayed away again yet their desire for each other stretched out between their two souls. Their longing made it hard to focus on anything else but the other person, made it hard to breathe, to think, to speak, to…exist. It was Lucien who acted first, his feet moving on their own accord.

For months it been going on like that—longing gazes were exchanged, sometimes deliberately or not their hands touched, sometimes they talked. It had never really gone beyond that. Somehow they constantly sought each other's company yet when they were around each other their conversations were uncomfortable, almost painful to watch from the outside. And that was exactly the problem: whenever they had a conversation or were about to have one they were watched and observed by their friends and family.

Elain laughed loudly about something Emerie had said. She tipped her head back, mouth opening into a big grin. Lucien’s heart swelled at the sight of that—Cauldron, she was so gorgeous.

He was close to her then, nearly having reached his mate. The smell of pumpkin and spices filled the emissary’s nostrils—the smell came from the tray Elain held in her hand.

Throughout the whole previous night he had been wondering what Elain would be wearing. All his guesses had been wrong. He had thought she would wear some innocent Halloween costume, as she was a rather modest and decent person.

Never would he have guessed that she would were something like she had donned.

Lucien’s throat worked on a swallow, his eyes following the soft curves of Elain’s body, the small fawn tail strapped to her backside, the tiny corset she was wearing, paired with the short skirt and the fawn ears. Lucien gasped—soundly, his eyes slowly dancing up her body when he came to a halt right behind her.

“Lady Elain,” he said as a form of greeting, his throat dry, his voice low and hoarse. Elain’s heart nearly jumped out of her chest when she sucked in a sharp breath and turned around to her mate. She hadn't seen him in so long, had only let herself think about him in the dead of night. And now he was here, standing right behind her, his scent already invading her nostrils. Holy gods, he smelled delicious—rich, lush spices, musky with a small note of something sweet.

“Lord Lucien,” Elain breathed, a cheerful tone in her voice. She simply couldn’t avoid it. When she finally looked fully up, her eyes first landed on the fox ears on top of Lucien’s head and she couldn’t hold back from chortling. “Cauldron, I love your costume,” she expressed and grinned at her mate. Lucien knew that that grin could light up the darkest night—he wanted to get drunk on it, drown in it.

“Fox and fawn, huh?” Lucien said, finding himself unable to form a coherent thought that would not fully reveal all that was going on inside him right then and there.

“What a coincidence,” Elain chirped and bit down on her lip. Not a coincidence at all, she had begged Feyre to convince Lucien to were those ears for months.

“I don't really think it was a coincidence, my lady. Feyre was so persistent and it makes me think that you played your role in it,” Lucien drawled. Elain giggled softly. A faint pinkish tone crept into the seer’s cheeks when she momentarily averted her gaze and looked at the tray with glasses filled with pumpkin juice on it.

“Lord Lucien, would like to taste my juice?” She changed the topic and lifted her gaze to meet her mate’s. Lucien’s eyes, one of russet and one of metal were glowing, pupils slightly dilated.

“I would love to taste your juice, Lady Elain.”

Elain smiled sheepishly, the colour in her cheeks intensifying. She carefully handed him a cup, which Lucien placed to his lips and tipped it up, savouring the first sip. His eyes never left Elain, not even when the sweet liquid trickled down the inside of his throat and he groaned lowly. “Delicious,” Lucien purred after having finished his drink and licking over his lips. Elain took the glass out of his hand, placed it on the tray and played the tray and out that on the table beside her. She felt hot all over, her skin all of a sudden so tight.

“I am glad you like it, Lord Lucien,” Elain said calmly and bit down on her lip. Their bond started to glow, making Elain’s knees wobble and Lucien’s hand tremble. He stepped closer to his mate, the heat of their bodies merging. Elain was sure that their tension could be felt in the whole room—she didn’t care.

The emissary moved another inch closer to his mate and lifted a hand to her face to pull out her lip from beneath her teeth. “Don't do that, it does…things to me.”

The seer sucked in a breath, her hands landing on Lucien’s chest. She tipped her head back the tiniest bit so she could meet his gaze. Challenge and temptation laced her features when she parted her lips. “What kind of things, Lucien?”

It was his name on her lips that was his undoing—so softly spoken yet so full of desire.

“Let’s get out of here. I want to be alone with you when I show you exactly what it does to me, Elain. Because there other things than your juice that I want to taste tonight.” There was commanding in his voice yet it were some of the softest and definitely sexiest spoken words Elain had ever heard. She loved it when he talked like that.

And her name on his lips —it was like the brush of a feather against her skin. It made her shiver, goosebumps appear and her toes curl in her heels.

“Come with me,” she breathed, interlacing her hand with his when probably a million sparks exploded in her chest. It was the very first time that their palms had touched—both of them felt the explosion, stopping in their tracks for a moment. The moment ended when Lucien cleared his throat and Elain started to walk again. The wink that came from Cassian when the mated couple walked past him did not go unnoticed by the emissary and drew a small laugh from him. He had really come to like the general.

Elain did no longer have a room in the Town House so she opted for the closest room, wanting to be alone with her mate as quickly as possible. She had anticipated that moment —that night— for so long and now it finally was here. Finally they would be alone—just in each others presence.

“The High Lord’s office?” Lucien queried and raised a brow when he closed the door behind Elain. Elain grinned and dipped her chin. “Closest room. Now what is it you want to talk about?” she questioned and waddled over to the big oak table while Lucien let himself fall into one of the arm chairs that stood across from the desk.

Leaning back, Lucien sat in a sprawl and spread his long legs. He released a groan from deep in his throat, when his eyes once again landed on Elain. He let his eyes wander and Elain felt heat in every place they landed on. The emissary bit down on his lower lip, his eyes burning with desire when they finally returned to his mate’s face.

“Hell, I hate your costume,” he finally said into the silence of the room. Only the faint voices of the guests and some light music could be heard in the background.

Elain’s lips formed a pout when she leaned against the desk behind her and braced her hands on the surface. “What? I thought you would like it.” “I hate it because the first moment I saw you in it I wanted to rip it off your body and claim you right then and there in the middle of all those people.”

That she had not expected.

Elain flushed bright red, every nerve in her body being on high alert, her blood blazing through her veins. Yes, she thought, claim me.

Elain pushed off the desk and bit down on her lip. “Why don’t you do it then? Claim me.”

“Because I don’t know if that is truly what you want.” Lucien assessed her—how her body reacted to what she said, how she acted around him, if she was comfortable around him. His eyes trailed her figure, her soft long legs, her lovely small breasts, pushed up by that stupid corset, her beautiful locks, her gorgeous smile. “I want you to claim me, Lord Lucien. Make me yours. But for now—” Elain released a mischievous giggle, turned to the side and wiggled her round bum with the small fawn tail fixed on top. “Make me scream your name, Lord Lucien!”

He didn’t have to be told twice. He stood in one swift movement, strutting over his mate. His large, warm hands fell to her hips where they rested for a moment. “There is nothing I rather want to do. You want to stay here? In Rhysand’s office?” Elain deliberated for a moment, then brushed her own hands up Lucien's chest to his neck. “Payback for all the times he an Feyre are so damn loud,” Elain said, some cruel, wicked delight sparking in her eyes. And Lucien loved it. He loved this side of her. He loved who Elain truly was under the mask she had built over the past years but which finally started to crumble more and more.

Elain pulled Lucien closer by his collar, his mouth mere inches from his. “I really want to find out if you taste as sweet as your juice. And yes, my lovely lady, I am not only talking about your mouth.” With that being said their lips connected. At first it was a soft, careful kiss, exploring what the other person liked. But it soon changed—turned into a passionate connection of their mouths. It was an almost ravishing kiss, like they had been starving for each other for decades. Their tongues fought for dominance, teeth clashing together when Lucien lifted his mate onto the desk behind her, his hands sliding up her soft thighs, higher and higher and—

Lucien breathlessly pulled back. "You cruel wicked thing,” breathed, a thin film of sweat coating his forehead. His gaze dropped to Elain’s very centre, now exposed since he had moved the skirt up. “Did you plan on something like this to happen? Is that why you came prepared? Is that why you forgot your panties?”

Elain grinned from ear to ear and dipped her chin. “I hoped for something like this to happen.”

“Gods, I don’t deserve you.” Lucien’s lips closed over Elain's once again, his hands starting to explore once again, finally being able to get the skirt of her, leaving the tail there though. When pulling back once again he smirked and said: “Let’s leave the tail there.” His hands had now found the straps of her corset, pulling on them and exposing her small but nevertheless beautiful breasts to him.

“You are stunning, Lady Elain. The most beautiful female I have ever seen.” That saying did something to Elain’s heart and made her forget that she was sitting butt-ass naked on her brother-in-law‘s desk with her mate now descending down her body.

Gods, this was actually going to happen, she thought and released some happy yet moan-like noise when her mate’s lips closed over her right nipple. Lucien’s other hand came up, kneading her left breast, his palm so warm against her sensitive skin. Elain tipped her head back, gasping loudly when Lucien shoved her legs apart, kneeling down in front of her. His hand moved into his hair where he wanted to get rid of the ears, but Elain stopped him. She leaned her head forward and shook it when Lucien looked up at her. “Leave them on. If I keep the tail and the ears I want you to keep the ears as well, my fox.”

Lucien showed her a lop-sided grin, gave his head a tiny shake and then connected his lips with the soft skin of her right knee. From there on he made his way up, kissing her thighs, his fingers already exploring her throbbing centre before he finally let his tongue slide against her and he groaned loudly, sending vibrations through out her whole body.

His voice was muffled when he spoke against her hot flesh, "Are you always this wet for me, Lady Elain?"

He did not wait for answer before continuing with his ministration, softly teasing the bundle of nerves before fully dipping his tongue into her.

It was then that Elain was fully gone. It was too much—almost overwhelming. The strokes of his tongue, how two of his long, warm fingers accompanied his tongue, how his thumb rubbed the bundle of nerves, the sounds he released, how good he made her feel.

Lucien’s fingertips dug into Elain’s soft hips, trying to hold her against the table the groaned under what they were doing. For a split second Lucien had thought about having to explain what had happened in here to the High Lord of Night but it all vanished when Elain had revealed her reckless side. Lucien wanted to explore this side of her and would have never said now.

The seer’s fingers threaded into Lucien’s hair, pulling on a few strands and forcing his head closer to her centre. Her other hand she had braced on the table, fingers curling around the edges to steady herself. She was moaning loudly, breath coming out in quick pants while Lucien was feasting on her like a starved male consuming his first meal. His tongue was teasing her, yet also softly stroking and licking her. He knew exactly what he was doing, how he had to do it.

Elain was riding her mate’s tongue, grinding against his face, making the desk shake until she finally came with a scream that was both a curse and her mate’s name. Tendrils of hair curled around her sweat-slicked face, the fawn ears still on top of it. Lucien released a loud breath, licked his lips, kissed Elain’s thighs again before straightening up. The noticeable tent in his breeches pressed against his mate’s core when he moved her closer to him, his arms sneaking around his mate’s still trembling body. “And that is how the fawn fell for the fox,” Lucien drawled and kissed his mate’s shoulder, his head falling into the crook of her neck. Elain’s own arms slung around her mate’s strong torso. “And how the fox fell in love with the fawn and claimed her as his. That was indescribably, Lord Lucien. I have never felt like that. So good.”

Elain was already fumbling with the laces of his breeches when Lucien shrugged off his shirt. Finally letting his breeches drop, Elain reached for his already rigid length, positioning it against her wet heat. But Lucien stopped her, his warm hand curling around her wrist. “Easy,” he drawled and placed a kiss to Elain’s temple.

“Slow, my sweet. You are very tight, I don’t want to hurt you.” Elain pouted her lower lip and stared up at her mate with big eyes. “You are not going to hurt me. I trust you, it will be alright.”

Their bodies came together, mouths connection, tongues meeting with every stroke while their hands explored every part of naked skin they can reach.

It was Lucien’s first hard thrust right to the hilt that shattered her. Elain had never felt such pleasure, never felt so filled. He stretched her out, yet the sting was pleasant.

Tipping her head back, Elain brought out a, "Gods!" She squeezed her eyes shut while her nails softly scratched the skin of Lucien’s broad shoulders.

Muffled moans, soft cries of pleasure, deep breathing and the groaning of the table under what they were doing were the only sounds audibly, drowning out all the background noises. Elain clawed at Lucien’s shoulder, fully giving herself to her mate, biting down on his soft skin, tasting his lips and devouring his sounds.

“You feel so incredibly good, Elain. Look how perfect we fit,” Lucien breathed and made Elain looked down between her bodies. It was then that a wave of release crashed into her, drowning her, sucking her under and making her moan loudly. Lucien’s hand fell to the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs, his thumb rubbing and teasing it exactly in the way that pushed Elain over the edge. She came once again with her mate’s name on lips, screaming in pure pleasure.

“Can I? In you?” Lucien was panting, his voice clipped when he spoke. Elain threw her hair back, legs curling tightly around her mate’s hips to pull him even closer and deeper into her. “Yes,” she breathed, “in me.”

It was what Lucien did, growling under his breath, while fisting Elain’s hair and meeting her mouth with his once again in a passionate kiss. “Gods, little fawn, you are so perfect.”

tags: @rippahwrites @shadowhunter2003 @my-inner-crisis @ladyelain @acourtofthought @itwasalwaysaboutthetea @multifictional

and since this is a Halloween special I am dedicating this to a few of my favourite Elucien writers: @velidewrites @daydreamer-anst @moononastring @separatist-apologist @the-lonelybarricade

#elucien #halloween #elucien fanfics #pro elucien

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rabbitlover1027 · 11 months

Text

Ok, but seriously, if every single day is Fall, how do you make yearly traditions?

CARVING PUMPKINS

"Oh, love, why did you cut it like that?" Elain asked.

"What's wrong with it?"

Elain sighed and picked up Lucien's pumpkin, turning it around in her hands.

"I can fix it, we'll just cut a little notch here by top."

"What was wrong with the way I did it?" Lucien questioned again.

Elain pressed her lips together, "There needs to be a hole for ventilation. Otherwise there might be too much smoke."

"Smoke?" Lucien puzzled. "Why is there smoke?"

"From the candle! You light a candle inside it," Elain explained.

"Wouldn't a fae light be easier?"

Elain exhaled through her nose. She handed him a large spoon.

"Scoop yours out. Like this," she showed him how to drag the spoon along the inside of the pumpkin and clear it out. "Put the seeds in this bowl. I'll rinse them and bake them."

Lucien frowned at the bowl and flicked a wrist over his pumpkin. Instantly, the inside was smooth and empty and the bowl was filled with sticky pumpkin seeds.

Elain took a turn frowning.

"I can do yours too," he offered.

"No, love. You're missing out that way. Here, help me scoop mine out."

Lucien rolled his eyes, but moved closer to her side of the table. He stuck his spoon into her pumpkin and scraped it along the sides. She gave him a smile that he returned. Finished she rinsed her hands at the sink.

"Now, you make a face," her eyes sparkled.

"A face?"

Elain handed him a kitchen knife and took one for herself.

"You cut out a face. Eyes, nose, mouth. Some people do ears," Elain shrugged.

They worked quietly from opposite sides of the table, each focused on their own pumpkin. Once, Elain looked over to see Lucien smiling at her and she flashed him a smile in return. Lucien set his knife down and leaned back, studying his pumpkin.

"Done?" she asked.

He circled the table to stand beside her. She lifted on to the tips of her toes to press a kiss against his cheek and then pulled his pumpkin next to hers, turning it so the two orange faces stared back at them.

"I thought you said you were good with a knife," Elain teased quickly.

"Hey!" He squeezed his arms around her waist pressing her back into his chest. "It's my first jack-o-lantern. I think it looks good. Are those eyelashes?"

She nodded, "Mine's a girl."

Lucien kissed the top of her head. "You do this how often?"

"Once a year, middle of fall. I can't believe you've never carved a pumpkin before."

"It was fall every day when I was growing up. How were we supposed to know when to carve a yearly pumpkin when everyday's the same season?"

"Well, when do you hunt for eggs, or do fireworks, or drink hot rum and sing carols?" Elain questioned.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Why do you have to hunt for eggs?"

"Lucien," Elain twisted in his arms to face him, "Really? You don't know what I'm talking about? I have a lot of things to teach you then. But…."

"But?"

Elain laughed, "You might have to buy me a house in all the different courts so you can really experience them. We'll just move every three months, to a new season. I'll give you a one year crash course on being human."

Lucien smiled and bent down to kiss Elain's lips. She kissed him back.

"Are you going to kiss me after each new tradition?" he asked.

Elain laughed, "I can do more than kiss you once you help me set these up on the porch. Grab yours, let's go."

Smiling, Lucien picked up his pumpkin and followed Elain to the front door.

#acotar #acotar fanfic #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #elucien #acotar fanfiction #halloween #carving pumpkins #a whole season early

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separatist-apologist · 6 hours

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Not the OP archaeologist, but if I can turn my brain off for The Mummy and Indiana Jones, I will sure as hell do it for your Elucien fic.

well turn your brain ON anon, because my Roman Empire IS the Roman Empire. I'm like a middle aged dad the way I'm out here listening to Roman Empire podcasts. I have an entire shelf dedicated to ancient Rome. I was Emperor Nero for Halloween in 2018.

This fic is FILLED with historical accuracies. I know we here at Separatist-apologist.fic.inc have grown accustomed to me just saying whatever feels right in my heart, irrespective of fact. BUT NOT THIS TIME. I HAVE SOURCES. I HAVE FACT CHECKED MY LATIN. I have consulted a real-life Italian for help

We are on a learning journey together. Yes there will be Lucien's absurdly large [redacted]. But there is so much more this time

#every review you have to tell me one new fact you learned OR ELSE

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secret-third-thing · 6 months

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Who's on next? Except this is a writing update.

I've been working my way through the drabble requests. I think I have 4-5 more (mostly Azris).

I'm working on my spooky Halloween Lucien (elucien flavored) story to be posted on the 31st.

Blood in the Wine is getting SPECIAL treatment (aka I am doing some major outlining), and I am so happy to have my friend Jessica on board as my new beta. You may know her from her Eris week art. (This one and this NSFW one)

I'll be posting my 2-3 part Neris fic soon.

Also somehow Nanowrimo...but it's original fiction. If you wanna be Nano buddes for hype purposes LEMME KNOW!

#stt ramblings #stt writing updates #eris vanserra #neris #elucien #azris

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popjunkie42 · 6 months

Note

Ho ho hello! 🎄

Your super secret santa has been typing away, planning and writing and making sure that you get a great Feysand Christmas gift. However, Mrs Claus pointed out I forgot to ask a very important question! Do you have any other favourite pairings in the ACOTAR universe?

Things are starting to really get moving in Santa’s workshop this weekend, and I’m so excited for the direction your gift is going!

One last question before I go, would you like a title reveal this weekend?

Wishing you the best of weekends my lovely!

Santa ❄️

Yay Santa, here for a Friday pick me up!!! I hope you have some fun Halloween plans!

ACOTAR couples - I’d say Elucien is my top after Feysand, but I love Nessian as well. And if we’re digging down a little deeper I am super interested in Drakon and Miryam, Kallias and Viviane, and maybe Jurian and Vassa (mostly I’m obsessed with Jurian).

A title reveal would make my week!!! I’m so excited!

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dreamlandreader · 8 months

Text

A Court of Thorns and Roses 🥀

Feysand

Multi-chapter Fics:

💜 Foolish Fire - Complete

Chapter One - Little Lights

Chapter Two - A Bump in the Night

Chapter Three - Dancing with Demons

Chapter Four - Whispers in the Dark

Chapter Five - A Charming Beast

Fur Baby Headcanons

Mythology Fact File

One shots:

💜 Artistic Differences

💜 Sick Day

Headcanons:

💜 Feysand Parenting Headcanons

Elucien

One shots:

☀️ Teddy Bear’s Picnic

Inner Circle

Headcanons:

❣️ Modern IC Halloween Headcanons

Asks are open so feel free to pop in and ask any questions, send prompts or just say hello ✨

#masterlist #acotar #acotar fanfiction #feysand #cassian #morrigan #amren #feyre cursebreaker #rhysand #azriel #nesta archeron #elain acotar #lucien acotar #eris vanserra #batboys #inner circle

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the-lonelybarricade · 2 years

Note

ok but you + mb elucien fic when?

@separatist-apologist we should give the people what they want 😌

#I am also surprised she asked me to do a Feysand collab before an Elucien one #MB's in her Feysand era right now #and it is very sexy of her #MB do you have any plans for Halloween 🤔#We're coming up to the anniversary of TYGIM

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kingofsummer93 · 1 year

Text

Ex Luna Scientia

Summary:

Lucien Vanserra, seventh son of the Minister for Magic, is as loved by his peers as he is hated by his family. But behind the charm and irreverence hides a secret, as dark and menacing as the scar on his face.

Elain Archeron, middle sister in a trio of muggle-born witches, has only one wish: for someone to truly see her. Because when she sleeps at night, she can see it all.

Or- an Elucien at Hogwarts AU.

Chapter 7: The Cauldron of Fire

Ao3 Masterlist

Lucien’s last detention with Professor Amren was the night before Halloween, and he spent the entire hour tapping his foot and glancing at the clock above the door. Sometimes if he was annoying enough Amren would let him out of detention early, but it seemed like he would have no such luck today. She only glanced at him periodically, staring at him with her silver-grey eyes flashing in irritation before going back to grading the pile of homework in front of her.

But Lucien could tell that even she was keen on getting down to the Great Hall. The teacher was glancing at the clock as often as he was, and seemed to have trouble focusing on the pile of essays. He could have sworn that she wasn’t even properly reading the essays before scribbling a note on the parchment and moving on to the next one.

TheTri-Trials Tournament would officially begin that night, and the entire school was buzzing with excitement. The theories on who the impartial judge would be were as varied as they were wild. Some said it would be a ministry member, others guessed perhaps a foreign dignitary, while one person swore up and down it would be a member of the Weird Sisters.

Lucien had reservations about it being a ministry member. He was friendly with plenty of them through Eris, but there were many more he’d like to avoid.

His stomach lurched with a sudden, horrible though. What if the judge was his father? But no, surely not, surely his mum or Eris would have said so…

“Do you know who will be picking the candidates?” he blurted suddenly.

Professor Amren sighed so deeply that her dark fringe fluttered with her breath. “Yes, Mr Vanserra, I do.” She pursed her lips and pointedly stared back at the parchment in front of her.

“What are they like? What kind of candidates do you think they’ll be likely to pick?”

Amren’s lips quirked up at that, almost imperceptibly so. “If you’re thinking up ways on how to seduce the impartial judge then I’m afraid you are quite wasting your time.”

“Hmm.” So it wasn’t a woman. Probably for the better, really- the Weird Sisters were so hairy…

“Don’t you have homework you can be doing, instead of running your mouth?” Amren continued.

Lucien shrugged lazily. “Meh…”

The teacher scowled at him, and Lucien grinned broadly. Most students were intimidated by Amren but Lucien knew the cranky aunt persona was mostly an act. All the other teachers gave lines or chores during detention, but Amren let him do whatever he wanted. If it was close enough to the full moon she didn’t even scold him for napping.

Ten minutes before his hour was up Amren set her quill down and peered at him over the stack of parchment. Lucien was half asleep, indulging in a day dream about Elain, and he jumped in surprise when Amren cleared her throat loudly.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about…well, about the source of your little bonfire the other day.” The teacher seemed uncharacteristically uncomfortable as she said this, and Lucien knew perfectly well that she knew exactly why he had burned those newspapers.

That article had been at the front of his mind ever since he’d read it. Any time he managed to forget about it temporarily, the memory of it would only slither back, setting his heart racing, making bile rise up his throat. With anger, yes, but also with fear, and that made him even more enraged.

There was no place for people like him in this world. No safety, no hope that they could ever lead a normal life. Werewolves were forced to register with the Department for Regulation of Magical Creatures, and weren’t even considered full citizens. The only other options were to hide your true identity, or live with the secret werewolves communities, most of whom were associated with dark wizards abroad.

Hogwarts was his safe place, and as soon as he graduated there was no telling what would happen to him. Every time that thought occurred to him it felt like time sped up at lightning speed, and there was nothing he could do to slow it down.

The fact that his own father was the Minister for Magic was no consolation. If anything, it made it even worse. It was convenient for him to keep Lucien’s secret while he was at Hogwarts, but would he keep the charade going after he left school?

That little stunt at the inn had not been necessary, but it was the sort of thing Beron did to amuse himself, and to keep the fanatic side of his followers appeased. But it was also a message to Lucien. A reminder, a threat that if he didn’t toe the line, the same thing could happen to him. Gone would be his hopes of becoming an auror, of having friends, of being part of the wizarding community.

“You can’t let things like that set you off,” Amren continued, still peering at him in concern.

“There was no reason for him to do that!” Lucien exclaimed angrily. “How can he get away with this? Those are innocent people he’s sending to Azkaban!”

The thought of getting thrown into Azkaban as a werewolf was terrifying. Being stuck in those tiny cells, the scent of humans heavy in the air, clawing at his own skin, with no room to run and let out the endless rage…

“I agree with you, Lucien, but you have to realize that attracting attention to yourself regarding that subject is not wise.”

Lucien knew this. He also knew she wasn’t being condescending, but rather being mindful that everything at Hogwarts had ears.

“I’m on your side, as is Professor Spell-Cleaver, but we can only protect you as long as you’re helping yourself, too,” she continued, more gently.

Lucien wondered what she would say if she knew he had inadvertently caused three minors to become unregistered animagi, who not only joined him during the fool moon, but trespassed all over the Hogwarts and Hogsmeade grounds as they did so.

“Do you think it’s hopeless for me to even try to become an auror?” Lucien blurted. He’d never voiced that fear out loud, even to his friends. “What if…what if he tries to stop me?” He knew he didn’t have to specify who he was talking about. “What if he locks me up in Azkaban the day I graduate? What if…”

Amren’s grey eyes flashed silver again. “Your father might be popular but there are witches and wizards much more powerful than him that are on your side, Lucien. You’d do well to remember that, and to not repay that loyalty by purposefully getting yourself into sticky situations.”

Lucien immediately felt rotten. “Sorry, Professor,” he mumbled, his eyes on the desk in front of him. “I can usually control the anger pretty well, but reading that article…”

“I know.” Professor Amren’s voice had turned gruff, and Lucien didn’t dare look at her. She cleared her throat. “Now go on, get out of here. The feast is about to start.” Lucien didn’t need to be told twice. He grabbed his bookbag and bolted towards the door. He paused with his hand on the doorknob. “I really am sorry, Professor. I swear I wasn’t just being an ass…”

Professor Amren shooed him towards the door, her cranky persona back in place. “Yeah, yeah, go on, get out of here…”

Lucien bolted up four sets of stairs towards Gryffindor tower and skidded to a stop in front of the painting of the Fat Lady. Her friend Violet was sitting next to her, and they seemed to be in the middle of sharing a bottle of sherry.

“Twinkling fairies,” he said, winking at them both for good measure. Violet blushed slightly, while the Fat Lady, used to his antics, merely smiled at him indulgently. “Quite right you are,” she said primly, and swung forward to admit him inside.

The common room was already empty, and Lucien took the stairs to the dormitory two at a time, dumping his bag on his bed before bolting back downstairs. He climbed out of the portrait hole once more and set off at a jog down the corridor.

“Well sure, don’t bother saying thank you, we’ll just be swinging back and forth all night for you!” the Fat Lady called angrily after him.

There were only a few students still making their way to their seats when Lucien finally reached the Great Hall, and he hurried towards the Gryffindor table. As he walked he realized that people were staring at him, some with sympathy, others (mainly from the Slytherin table) with outright disdain. All this for walking in late? It seemed slightly disproportionate…

But then Lucien casually glanced at the teachers’ table, and he stopped dead in his tracks. All the teachers were in their seats, but they were sitting closer than usual, as three extra people were currently in attendance at the feast.

One of them was a slightly sour-looking wizard that Lucien vaguely recognized as being from the ministry. In the second chair sat his brother Eris, who in his typical fashion had shown up in muggle clothing, and was getting side eyed by the other professors as a result. Eris was staring at him so aggressively that it looked like he was trying to speak directly into Lucien’s mind. He was sitting quite stiffly, and the look in his eyes was carefully wary, even as he gave Lucien a slight nod of greeting. Lucien quickly realized why. His gaze slid to Eris’ right, and for the first time in almost three years he made eye contact with his father.

It shocked Lucien to his very core. Even more people were staring at him now, heads swiveling between him and the teacher’s table. Lucien was frozen on the spot, suddenly unaware of how to move his limbs normally. Those amber eyes, so like Eris’, were somehow cold as ice and burning him at the same time. His father didn’t so much as smile in greeting. His eyes only narrowed as his brow furrowed.

Why had nobody told him about this? Why hadn’t Eris warned him? Why hadn’t Professor Amren said something in detention, or even Professor Spell-Cleaver?

But then again, why would they? They would probably have assumed that Lucien was in contact with his own father, like a normal fucking person would be.

The moment seemed to stretch on forever, with Lucien standing frozen like a statue halfway to the Gryffindor table. In reality it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds but it felt like an eternity. It had been so long since he had seen his father that he couldn’t pinpoint the last time he had seen him. He had simply stopped being there when Lucien was home on holidays, and that had been fine by him.

Eris saved him then by jumping out of his chair and walking in between the long house tables towards him. There was a wide grin plastered on his face, though Lucien knew him well enough to see the tension in his expression. When he reached him he wrapped Lucien in a one-armed hug and clapped him on the back.

“Sorry,” his brother mumbled, low enough that nobody else could hear. “I wanted to surprise you but father decided to come at the last minute. Professor Spell-Cleaver didn’t even ask him to come. He was as shocked as you were when he saw him.”

Lucien quickly glanced at the teacher’s table and noticed for the first time that Professor Spell-Cleaver seemed unusually serious, his normally easy countenance and warm smiles nowhere to be seen. His elbows were on the table, hands clasped together with his chin resting on top of them. He seemed tense, like he was restraining himself, somehow. Something about that gave Lucien a twinge of morbid satisfaction. Clearly he wasn’t the only one unhappy about the Minister’s presence tonight.

“What are you doing here?” Lucien asked.

Eris grinned again, and this time there was only pure mischief in his eyes. “I’m one of the judges in the tournament. Surprise, little brother. Wait for me after the feast, all right?” With that his brother hurried back to the teacher’s table.

Lucien glanced at his father one more time before sitting down at the Gryffindor table. His friends were all staring at him, identical stricken looks on their faces. They knew him well enough not to say anything here, surrounded by the entire school, but he felt their concern nonetheless. Vassa grabbed his forearm and squeezed. Something like a warning flashed in her eyes.

Lucien looked down and realized he had grabbed a steak knife and was holding it so tightly his knuckles had turned white. He dropped the knife and loosed a breath, forcing himself to relax.

“I’m fine,” he murmured. “It’s fine.”

It was obviously not, but the next moment Professor Spell-Cleaver had stood, and silence fell across the Great Hall.

“Good evening, ladies, gentlemen, ghosts, and- guests,” a glance towards the three ministry wizards. “The tournament will be officially opened after the feast, but for now I invite you to enjoy, savor, and relish!”

He sat down, and immediately the empty dishes in front of them filled and delicious aromas wafted through the air. Lucien had lost his appetite, but he went through the motions of filling his plate and lifting his fork and goblet, trying and failing to participate in the conversation around him.

Why the fuck was his father here? It made no sense. A school tournament was not nearly important enough for the Minister for Magic to show up. It made sense for Eris and the other ministry wizard to be here, but his father must have had another motive. And it surely was not to see him. That notion was simply laughable.

When the last of the puddings finally disappeared Lucien sighed in relief. The sooner the feast was over, the sooner he could escape this hall, and his father’s venomous gaze. He could feel his father’s eyes swiveling back to him every few minutes, burning him like a brand.

Professor Spell-Cleaver stood up again, and everybody in the Great Hall turned to face him expectantly. Lucien sat up a bit straighter. He had been so distracted by his father that he had almost forgotten about the opening of the tournament. All along the house tables students were sitting uncharacteristically still, eyes bright with excitement.

“The moment that you have all been waiting for has finally come!” the Headmaster said, smiling at the students in front of him. “But before we bring in the cauldron-“

“The what?” Jurian blurted.

Lucien shrugged, as baffled as his friends looked. Were they going to have to brew some kind of potion to prove they were worthy of entering? He sure hoped not- he wasn’t bad at potions but it certainly wasn’t his strong suit…

“I’d like to introduce our guests for the evening. Mr Bartemius Koshei, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.” The surly looking wizard lifted a hand in greeting, and a few students clapped politely. “Mr Eris Vanserra, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports…”

The entire Gryffindor and Slytherin tables broke into thunderous applause, joined by most Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. Lucien grinned and stuck his fingers in his mouth to wolf-whistle as Eris stood and waved, smiling broadly. Their father’s expression was thunderous, and that only made Lucien clap harder.

“And finally, a man who needs no introduction, Minister for Magic Beron Vanserra.”

The contrast could not have been more embarrassing. Most of the Slytherin table clapped, accompanied by the same polite students who had clapped for Mr Koschei, while the Gryffindor table remained entirely silent.

Lucien’s father lifted his hand in the barest of greetings but did not so much as crack a smile. Professor Spell-Cleaver looked at him expectantly for a moment, as if expecting him to stand and speak. When it became evident that the Minister had no desire to do so he cleared his throat and turned to face the students once more.

“Mr Koschei and Mr Eris Vanserra and their respective departments have been working tirelessly these last few months to organize this tournament, ensuring that it will not only be safe, but also challenging and exciting. They will be joining myself, as well as the four Heads of House, as judges during the three trials.”

“Actually? You’re a shoe-in, mate…” Vassa elbowed Tamlin in the ribs to shush him, but Lucien grinned at his friend and winked. As long as the impartial judge picked him, then surely this would be a cakewalk.

“The three trials that our champions will face have already been organized and approved by all the judges,” Professor Spell-Cleaver continued. At the sound of the word “champions” any lingering chatter in the hall immediately died down. It was so quiet it seemed like everyone was holding their breaths. “There will be three trials, spaced throughout the school year. The trials will challenge our champions on their magical abilities, their courage and wit, and of course, their ability to cope with danger.

“As you all know, one representative from each House will be selected to participate in the tournament. They will be awarded points based on how well they perform each trial, and the champion with the highest number of points at the end of the tournament will win the Tri-Trials Cup, as well a thousand Galleon prize money. These champions will be selected by our impartial judge- the Cauldron of Fire.”

“The what now?” Jurian mumbled.

Lucien frowned. “The judge is a cauldron?”

The Great Hall had erupted in excited whispers, which all died down once more as Mr Filch appeared, dragging with him what appeared to be a very large, golden cauldron. Several older students hurried out of their seats to help him, and with a final loud thunk it was set on the ground in front of Professor Spell-Cleaver.

It was large enough that an adult man could fit comfortably inside, and looked as old as the Sorting Hat. Professor Spell-Cleaver waved his wand, and tall blue-white flames erupted from the cauldron.

“Any student wishing to submit their name for consideration must write their name and House on a piece of parchment, and drop it into the cauldron. The cauldron will be placed in the Entrance Hall until tomorrow night, when it will return the names of the champions it has chosen.”

The Great Hall erupted in excited whispers. Professor Spell-Cleaver smiled at them indulgently before continuing. “As I mentioned at the start of term, the tournament is open only to students who are seventeen years of age as of today. I want to point out that in order to discourage underage students from entering, I will personally be drawing an age line around the cauldron to ensure only those who are of age can enter.”

“An age line?” Jurian whispered. “Should be easy to fool, no?”

“Ageing potions, maybe?” Tamlin pondered.

Vassa frowned at them, but only half-heartedly.

“I wish we could all enter together,” Lucien said truthfully. “Not that it would matter, because it would pick me anyway, but…”

“Finally,” Professor Spell-Cleaver continued. “I want to emphasize that your decision to enter the tournament should not be taken lightly. Having your name chosen by the cauldron is a binding magical contract- if you are chosen as champion, you will be obliged to participate in the trials until the end of the tournament. The Ministry and myself have gone to great lengths to ensure your safety during the trials, but with that said, there remains an element of danger that should be taken seriously.”

A little shiver of excitement went through the Great Hall.

“And with that, I’d say it’s well past time for bed! Chop chop!”

Lucien glanced at the teacher’s table as he followed his friends towards the Entrance Hall. His father was deep in conversation with Mr Koschei, but Eris caught his eye and angled his head towards the door to the Great Hall. Lucien nodded back.

When they reached the Entrance Hall he waved his friends off and waited until Eris finally appeared, hurrying toward him.

“So,” Eris said with a grin. “Still going to enter?”

“Obviously,” Lucien retorted. He glanced back at the open doors to the Great Hall, dreading the thought of his father walking through them.

“Don’t worry about him. He’s having a nightcap with Koschei and Professor Spell-Cleaver. Helion didn’t seem thrilled at the prospect though, mind you…”

Lucien snorted. It was no great secret that the Headmaster was a critic of his father, at best.

“Why is he here?” Lucien mumbled. “He didn’t even say anything…”

Eris shrugged uncomfortably. “Donno. He’s not a judge, I don’t think he’s planning on being here for the trials. Look, I know you don’t want to hear this, but maybe he just wanted to see you.”

Lucien fixed his brother with a long, icy stare. They both knew this was as unlikely as a member of the Weird Sisters being appointed Minister for Magic.

“If that’s the case then why isn’t he out here talking to me like a normal father would do?” Lucien countered.

Eris sighed. “I don’t know, Lucien. Just- promise me you’re taking care of yourself, alright? Try not to let him get to you. I’ll see you at the first task.” His brother grinned widely then. “You have no idea what’s coming in these trials. If I were you I’d think twice about it.”

Lucien grinned back. “More reason to enter, in that case!”

——-

“Do it,” Lucien urged.

“You go first,” Jurian pleaded, shuffling nervously.

“Nope. It’ll be more fun to gloat if you guys have already failed.”

They were standing in the Entrance Hall, on the edge of the crowd surrounding the cauldron of fire. It had been moved to the center of the Entrance Hall overnight, surrounded by a wide circle drawn in white chalk on the ground. One by one students were crossing the line and dropping their names into the cauldron, to claps and cheers from the crowd of onlookers. Each time a new piece of parchment was dropped in, the cauldron’s flames would glow red-hot for a moment before fading to white-blue again.

“Alright,” Tamlin declared. “We’re going in.”

“You’re sure you don’t want to give it a go, Vassa?” Jurian asked.

“You know what?” she retorted, shrugging her shoulders. “Why not?”

Lucien chuckled darkly. He knew instinctively that this was not going to work, but he was desperate to see Professor Spell-Cleaver’s age line in action.

Jurian uncorked the vial of aging potion he was holding (pilfered from the potions classroom storage closet overnight) and took a careful sip. He hesitated for a few moments, but when nothing happened he shrugged and passed the vial to Vassa. Once all three of them had sipped from the potion they carefully wrote their names on scraps of parchment and eyed the age line warily.

Jurian took a deep breath, and then carefully crossed one foot over the line. People had gathered to watch, but carefully no teachers were around to see.

When nothing immediately happened Jurian stepped fully into the circle, and then he spread his arms wide and grinned. “Knew it would work!” he exclaimed.

Tamlin and Vassa hopped over the line excitedly, all three of them wide-eyed with delight.

“I can’t believe that actually-“

As soon as the words left Lucien’s mouth there was a flash of white light, and Jurian, Tamlin and Vassa were thrown violently backwards. They landed heavily on the stone floor, all three of them groaning in pain.

“Shit! What the- are you guys ok?”

His friends untangled themselves from the heap they’d landed in, standing and wincing gingerly.

As they did so there was a loud pop! and all three of them immediately sprouted identical long white beards.

Lucien almost fell to the floor with laughter as his friends pointed and laughed at each other, only to gasp in horror when they realized that they were also sporting a snowy white beard.

“The headmaster did warn you,” Professor Amren scolded as she walked down the marble staircase. “Off to the infirmary you go. Madam Madja will certainly have her hands full today…”

Lucien was still chucking by the time he stepped over the line and walked to the cauldron.

There was something eerie about the cauldron. The flames seemed to rise higher as he got closer, almost as if they were alive and sensed his presence. Lucien shivered despite himself. With a deep breath he dropped his name into the flames, and watched as they flashed red and sparked for an instant before changing back to blue.

“Way to go, Lucien!” someone called out.

Lucien grinned and fist-bumped a grinning Cassian as he crossed over the line to enter his own name. Someone snorted behind him, and Lucien looked over his shoulder to find Azriel sneering at him.

“What are you staring at, Ass-riel?” Lucien taunted.

Azriel went scarlet and opened his mouth to retort when someone else cut him off.

“Don’t call him that!” It was Elain, fists clenched and brown eyes flashing in irritation.

Lucien grinned. “Or what, you’re going to slap me again?”

Azriel snorted again before throwing Lucien another venomous look and disappearing through the crowd.

“Why is it,” Elain continued, “that every time I start to think that maybe you’re a nice guy after all, you go and prove me wrong?”

Fuck she was so hot when she was mad at him. She wasn’t wearing her glasses, and Lucien couldn’t help but wonder if that was because of him.

“Maybe I’m not a nice guy at all,” he retorted, taking a tiny step towards her. He’d all but forgotten that they were standing in the middle of the crowded Entrance Hall. “What does that say about you?”

Elain’s lips parted, as if she wanted to taunt him back but didn’t know what to say. Was it his imagination, or was her chest heaving quite rapidly?

“Go out with me, Archie,” he whispered, low enough so that only she could hear. “And maybe you’ll find out if I’m actually a nice guy or not.”

The noise around him seemed to dim as she stared him down, cheeks flushed, her eyes as fiery as the cauldron behind him. But then she dipped her chin and averted her gaze, huffing out a little laugh.

“You flatter yourself, as always,” she said. With that she whirled on the spot and disappeared out of the Entrance Hall.

“Wait!” Lucien called.

But she was already gone, leaving him standing there with the sight of her blazing eyes burned into his memory forever.

#elucien #elucien fanfic #elucien fanfiction #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #acotar fanfic

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vulpes-fennec · 1 year

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Pumpkin Fields Forever (Part 5) 🎃

Summary: Where are all the pumpkins? On the lake, of course! Elain and Lucien’s eventful day ends with floating pumpkin lanterns. Also, Happy Halloween!

**I got inspired by the Elucien Tangled-inspired fanart by hachandraws (commissioned by @cascadingmoon) [Tumblr] [IG] and wanted to make a fall eco-friendly alternative for our nature-loving couple.**

Read: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | AO3

“I want to visit the pumpkin field before leaving,” Elain announced, breaking the silent spell. Farmers milled around the faelight-lit pumpkin field, snipping gourds off the vine for those who were purchasing.

Elain didn’t realize just how many pumpkin varieties existed: dusty gray, orange, white, knobbly green, yellow…she took note of the spacing, the type of dirt, the drainage system, and the pruning. Perhaps growing vegetables would be her new project after she mastered the herb garden! It was only when Lucien tapped her shoulder that Elain realized she was crouching on the ground in her inspection, getting her orange dress dirty.

He pointed to the lake at the edge of the festival grounds. Small lights floated on the inky black surface. Elain squinted, pushing her Fae senses to their limit. She gasped. “Are those…floating lanterns?!?” Elain took off for the lake excitedly, oblivious to Lucien’s affectionate smile at her bright expression.

“Ohh, look! They’re made of pumpkins!” she cried. A booth by the water was selling mini pumpkins that had been hollowed out and fitted with small beeswax candles. Lucien elbowed Elain good-naturedly as she eagerly fished for her coin purse, but he did not object to her paying for two pumpkin lanterns.

Elain protectively cradled her pumpkin in the palm of her hand. A small crowd had gathered on the boat dock to light and launch pumpkins into the lake. Amren, Varian, Mor, and Emerie were all standing there with their pumpkins. Elain frowned in disappointment. “Shall we launch the pumpkins over there?” Lucien asked, gesturing to the secluded end of the lake.

“Alright.” Elain couldn’t believe she readily agreed. Single ladies and gentlemen were not to be alone together, unless they were courting, and dark corners were certainly forbidden. But the Fae have different rules, and it’s not TOO dark with the moon out, she tried to convince herself.

Elain and Lucien picked over shrubs and rocks with their pumpkins in hand. When Lucien finally undid the bun holding his hair, Elain was entranced by the red, wavy locks falling over the sides of his chiseled face. The moon’s muted light still cast a faint radiance that made his hair seem like liquid fire.

“There’s a wooden bench we can sit on over there,” Lucien suggested. The lights of the festival were far away, the only sounds being the rustling wind and lapping water. Elain gingerly sat down. We are truly alone out here. Her concerns were not of wild animals lurking nearby, but of how the male would have her undivided attention.

“Is something wrong?” Lucien asked, concerned. Elain stared down at her mini pumpkin, panicking at his straight-forward question. Yes, something is wrong! She wanted to shout into the night. I allow myself half a day with you and now I don’t want this night to end. And I don’t WANT to feel that way…

Especially when I don’t know if you entertained my whims today simply because I’m the advantage you have over the Inner Circle. And I’m confused about how you feel towards me, what you think of me…

Chaotic thoughts typically triggered Elain’s habit to hide. To make herself as small as possible, to avoid dealing with the thoughts and emotions. But if she managed to be somewhat functional in Lucien's presence today, perhaps she was also capable of confronting other issues with him. “I don’t know how to trust you.” Her voice was a nauseated whisper.

Lucien’s neutral countenance shifted to alarm. “I shouldn’t have taken you so far out, we can go back—”

“No, it’s not that,” Elain quickly said. “It’s because you’re an emissary. A courtier. You know how to manipulate people.”

“So you think I’m manipulating you,” Lucien ventured slowly.

“No! Well, a bit.” Frustration stung at Elain’s nose, threatening tears. How am I supposed to explain myself!?! How does he always misread the simplest things while understanding my complexities? Nevertheless, she continued. “When you bought me that pear crumble…I was confused. Whether you were acting by the mating bond or whether you were being kind. I wanted to believe the latter. But then y-you sprang those questions at me, and it made me think you gave me the dessert to soften me up before you could—” her voice rose higher with hysteria.

“Oh gods, no,” Lucien sighed as he rubbed his forehead. “I didn’t mean to interrogate you, my lady. I impulsively asked the questions because I was curious. You were willfully oblivious to your own feelings. It had nothing to do with the pear crumble…I got it because—” he blushed “—I thought it would make you happy.”

Giddy warmth soothed some of Elain’s anxiety. “So you weren’t being nice to me…to provoke me later? Or to gain information on the Night Court?”

“I do like to tease people, but if you don’t want me to do that to you…”

“No, that’s alright. I mean…I don’t mind your teasing, I suppose.” Elain looked away awkwardly. People hardly ever teased sweet Elain. They were only nice, courteous…and often boring. Sure, Lucien was a bit infuriating earlier, but his teasing made her blood run hot. In a good way.

“Well then. You’ve given me the stamp of approval to tease you mercilessly,” he smirked. Elain allowed a small smile, wondering what she’d gotten herself into. Lucien’s voice then grew serious. “I may tease you, but I would never manipulate you, Elain.”

Elain shuddered slightly at the sound of her name in his rich voice. Not “my lady”, but “Elain”. The first time he’s ever said my name. “Alright,” she said quietly. “I didn’t mean to t-think badly of you.”

“Don’t feel bad. I’d rather you be honest with me than be stressed trying to spare my feelings.” He said I was willfully oblivious…is he referring to my avoidance of the mating bond as well? He doesn’t want me to spare his feelings…so does he want me to reject the bond because he THINKS that’s what I want…or because he doesn’t want ME as his mate?

The relief she felt from their conversation about trust evaporated into anxiety. “A-are you referring to the m-mating bond?” she stammered. How does Nesta just bluntly say things left and right…I feel sick trying to talk about this. Being agreeable and keeping situations light is SO much easier.

Lucien hesitated, his gaze darting between her face and his hands. “I don’t want to ruin the night,” he muttered. Frustration bubbled up in Elain. The one time I try to put a foot forward with him, he takes a step back. Was this what it felt like to interact with me during the last two years?

“Who’s sparing whose feelings now?” she tried to tease, but her voice was shaky. Please respond, please respond, please…

Lucien gave her a wry smile and cast his eyes towards the night sky. “Alright, you got me there.” His metal eye expanded and narrowed as he considered how to phrase his following words. “I thought today was a massive improvement from the last few years, but I don’t want you to feel…obligated to be around me. And if we are being honest, well…your concerns are valid. I struggle to differentiate between what’s real and what’s caused by the bond.”

Real or fake, Elain thought sadly. He knows what’s real because he loved Jesminda so dearly. And Graysen…my love for him was real too. Unlike my sisters and their mates, Lucien and I are stuck comparing each other to our past loves. “Me too,” Elain confessed. “Differentiating between real emotions and the mating bond.” Lucien looked at her, surprised.

“Give me an example?” he asked.

Elain bowed her head, hoping her curls shielded her flaming face. There were too many moments, each more embarrassing than the last. But now that I think about it, the mating instincts have been quiet for the majority of the day. I only felt it when I was at the petting zoo and when I was playing the game. The realization that the majority of her thoughts and feelings were her own was discomfiting. “When I was playing the toadstool game…I was angry about Amarantha,” she explained. “I was furious, but it felt more than that? Like the bond had intensified my feelings and senses.”

“What did you feel?” Lucien pressed.

Elain shuddered. “I wanted to destroy her for hurting you.”

Lucien’s expression was guarded. “No one has ever fought her for me,” he said, more to himself than to Elain. “Even your sister only gave up her name and completed Amarantha’s horrid tasks because my life was held hostage.”

Elain was aghast. “I didn’t know that,” she whispered. She thought Amarantha had only taken out Lucien’s eye. The Hybern general was more sadistic than she’d initially thought, seeking to harm her mate again and again Under the Mountain. The idea that he’d come so close to death before she even met him…angry tears threatened to spill over her doe brown eyes, but she clamped them down. “But what if it’s just the bond talking? Does that invalidate the act for you?”

Lucien took a moment to respond. “You said the bond had intensified your feelings and senses, so if you were already angry at Amarantha for what she did to me, then there is some grain of truth in the act.” His eyes perked up. “Besides, I thought you looked quite impressive smashing the toadstools. And that’s not the bond talking.” His full lips quirked in the corner as he looked at Elain.

Was this what he meant by teasing me mercilessly? Does that include flirting? The gears in Elain’s head screeched to a halt at Lucien’s moonlit perfection and crooked mouth. She clutched her pumpkin tightly, trying to contain her nerves.

Lucien gestured to her pumpkin with his own. “Want to launch these now?” He got up, walking to the edge of the water where dark waves brushed at the shore.

Elain started. “We don’t have any matches!”

Lucien chuckled. “You’re with somebody who has fire powers and you’re worried about matches?” He lifted his calloused hand, and a tiny orange flame leapt to life from his index finger. Elain gasped in appreciation; this was his first display of powers in front of her. She was fascinated by the orange and yellow hues dancing harmlessly on his tanned skin. “Come here,” Lucien said in a soft voice that sent delicious tingles down her spine.

Elain crept closer, allowing him to dip his flame into her pumpkin. It was real fire—she could feel the heat emanating from the candle. For a moment they both stood, pumpkins in hand, basking in the warm glow. Elain inhaled his scent, the fresh apple and soft earthiness of dried leaves. She noticed Lucien was doing the same thing to her, though he was trying to keep it discreet. The notion that a male was trying to smell her would’ve sent Elain fleeing, but right now, she was wrapped up in how Lucien’s scent made her feel safe and heady.

Lucien broke away abruptly to set his pumpkin on the water. Elain blinked, reeling at the loss of his solid presence near her. “Don’t push me in,” he warned teasingly, not looking up at Elain.

His teasing brought out the mischievous side of Elain, for she primly replied, “I wouldn’t dream of doing that…for now.” Elain crouched down and gave her pumpkin a slight push to get it going on the lake.

The two of them sat back down on the bench, though Elain kept a foot-long distance between her and Lucien. She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling the bite of the autumn night through her dress.

“Are you cold?” Lucien asked.

“Yes, but I’ll be alright,” Elain assured. Give me your jacket, give me your jacket, she mentally chanted. Of course, a lady would never demand a man give her his jacket. So she could only stare at the lake silently and wait for him to offer it to her. To her disappointment, Lucien did not put his burgundy jacket over her shoulders. But a few moments later, she felt the air around her warm precipitously to a comfortable heat.

Elain looked around in wonder. “It’s a warming spell,” Lucien explained. “I’m the only one in my family who’s able to perform these spells.” There was a hint of a cocky brag in his tone, but Elain didn’t mind. His family, with the exception of his mother and Eris, treated him like shit. It serves them right that Lucien has special gifts.

“I like it,” Elain commented. She allowed herself to glance at the male sitting beside her, feeling her heart skip a beat. Lucien caught her gaze and held it, the long scar and intricate golden eye lending to his otherworldly beauty.

Elain understood the myriad ways men and women employed discreet glances and gentle manners in human courtship. In fact, she and Graysen had danced around the pillars of social propriety before falling in love.

This was different. The tension between her and Lucien was thick, like honey. His scent still making her head spin, his eyes shining bright in the moonlight. And her heart beat so fast Elain was sure he could hear it. Lucien kept a respectful distance, but his face was filled with such longing and softness that it made her throat close up with emotion. Please, let it be his true feelings, Elain prayed to the Mother. Not the bond.

Elain’s eyes traveled to the uneven lock of hair that hung over his broad shoulder. She inexplicably reached out and touched it. Lucien’s hair may have looked like fire, but it was cool and silky to the touch. He shivered slightly when Elain’s slender fingers brushed it, just inches from actually touching his shoulder. “Lucien,” she said slowly, her pink lips forming the shape of his name. “Thank you…for spending the day at the festival with me.”

“There’s no need to thank me, my lady,” he said gruffly, trying not to let too much emotion show. “Though I wish it didn’t come at the cost of my hair.”

Elain gave the stuffed sheep plush in his lap a little tap on the head. “These pesky sheep.” She smiled down at it.

“I liked how you were really good with Daniela earlier,” Lucien said admiringly.

She shrugged. “It’s the least I could do while you were fixing my mistake.” She paused and said, “What you said earlier about me feeling obligated to be around you. It’s true…I was…u-uncomfortable for a while.” She gulped nervously, clenching her fist. “I’m more comfortable after getting to know you today, b-but…I don’t want to mislead you…I still don’t k-know what to do with bond. I’m sorry.” The incoherent words were necessary honesty, but Elain felt horrible for putting more distance between them. She hung her head.

Lucien wore an expression of simple understanding. “Please don’t apologize, my lady. I know you’re telling me not to get my hopes up. I also need time to sort out my feelings...” He trailed off, trying to gauge Elain’s reaction. Elain was pleasantly surprised at how Lucien was taking her hesitation in stride. She’d expected him to be upset, frustrated, or even sad. So she nodded encouragingly. “I suppose we are both very confused,” Lucien continued, “But regardless of what the future holds, I thought today was fun. And it’s safe to say you’re not as much of a stranger as before.” He smiled broadly at her.

“Likewise,” Elain replied, glowing at Lucien’s pure expression with a smile of her own. It was the first time she’d ever seen him smile like that, and a selfish part of her wanted to be the reason for it.

The two lapsed into a comfortable silence, watching as their two pumpkins floated out to join the congregation of other lanterns on the lake. The Harvest Festival lights glittered on the other side of the lake, the night was crisp, and she was content.

Later that night

Lucien winnowed back to the Band of Exiles manor silently, bypassing the intricate network of wards he’d set up. He had just winnowed Elain back to the River House in Velaris, making sure she’d safely entered and closed the door before leaving. He had been tempted to stay in his dusty apartment, but decided against it. As if Elain would be that eager to see him again so soon. Keep expectations low, and you won’t be disappointed. That had been his mantra for most of his life. Still, he couldn’t help but entertain the bud of hope that maybe, just maybe, Elain was open to him. As a mate, a friend, or just another Fae—he didn’t care.

The icy cold water of his bath failed to keep him from replaying Elain’s giggles in his head. In the almost three years he’d known her, Elain had only offered the barest of smiles in his presence. So even though her laughter was at his expense, Lucien resolved to tease her mercilessly and snarkily crack jokes just to hear it again.

Lucien flopped onto his bed, holding the sheep plush against his bare chest. Is it creepy if I cuddle this stuffed animal thinking it’s Elain, Lucien contemplated. Yes. Yes, it is. His mind drifted to how beautiful she looked in her creamy orange dress, her brown waves long and loose, her eyes bright and assessing. She was especially charming when she had gotten a bit dirty inspecting the pumpkin field. Lucien hadn’t allowed himself to appreciate her beauty at the Harvest Festival, lest she scent his arousal and run away screaming.

Lucien tossed and turned, trying to lull himself to sleep. It was unlike him to be so unsettled. He’d met plenty of females before, had courted and bedded them in all ways imaginable. It was different with Elain, though. Most beautiful female I have ever seen. But it was evident today that her beauty was more than surface level: she was beautiful in how she empathetically chatted with Daniela, how she tried to understand the intricacies of gardening and baking, and how she wanted to defend him.

The last few years, Lucien had mulled over the mating bond with literal crumbs of information he’d gleaned from Feyre and awkward interactions with his mate. Because I barely knew Elain, every feeling I felt, every thought I had of her felt shaky, built on forced mate instincts and speculation. But now. Now that he’d seen the female, understood the good and the bad, his heart only warmed towards her.

The bond in his chest hummed and glowed. Lucien yawned. It had been a long day. As he drifted off to sleep, hugging the sheep plush, his thoughts were only of Elain. My mate. I am yours, I am yours…

***

Elain had let out an unladylike screech the moment she walked through the front door of the River House. And Mor was standing in the front foyer with a wine glass in hand and a scrutinizing expression. Elain had mumbled an embarrassed “Hello, Mor” before dashing up the stairs to her room.

She’d gotten ready for bed in a daze, replaying the events of the day in her head. Lucien struggling with the sheep. Lucien reliably leading them out of the corn maze. Lucien’s unmatched skill at darts, but also his clumsiness with the toadstools.

Her skin burned as hot as his flame when she recalled the way his broad shoulders hovered over her, or how his muscles flexed in his jacket when he threw the darts. Or how his genuine smile made her feel on top of the world. The images burned into her memory.

It wasn’t just Lucien’s looks or mannerisms, though she’d always known the male was courteous. He was humble, based on his interactions with others who were in awe of him. He seemed to keep his personal problems to himself, like her. But when she opened up to him, Elain felt much better. Like she was being heard.

It’s like he genuinely cares about me and wouldn’t hurt me. Elain felt the sun pendant weigh on her chest, warm against the beating of her heart. But I need to wait. I gave Graysen my heart too soon and look what happened. Any male would put on his best face in the pursuit of a “worthy” female, just to abandon them after conquest.

Elain finished brushing her hair and got into her comfy bed, hugging her large stuffed bear. It was perhaps a childish purchase during the postwar months, but the bear’s soft body soothed her during sleepless nights. The autumn night was chilly; Lucien’s ability to create warm air pockets would be handy right now.

What if…what if I pretend the bear is Lucien? Elain’s breathing picked up as she dared to imagine what it would be like to snuggle in a bed with Lucien. Preferably with his spells—or his body—keeping her toasty warm. Oh gods, she buried her head against the bear. I am undeniably attracted to Lucien Vanserra. Aaaahhhh!!! I can’t jump to conclusions. He’s just a handsome male. Doesn’t mean that I like him, or love him. I need to gauge our next interaction carefully, to make sure it’s not just the bond speaking, Elain resolved.

Surely he would come to the Solstice party this year. But that was three months away, and far too long to wait. Maybe he would give his weekly emissary reports in Rhysand’s office instead of sending them by letter. Or he could visit Velaris on a whim—he had an apartment here, right?

Gentle waves of sleep began to overtake her. A thread, golden and alive, pulsed inside her chest with the beating of her heart. Before her eyes closed, Elain could’ve sworn she reached for the shimmering bond.

And that’s a wrap! If you’ve stuck it out towards the end of my very first fanfic, I appreciate you beyond words. I hope the ending wasn’t too much of a let down. I tried to keep this pretty canon-compliant with Elain and Lucien’s personalities, and as much as I love to see them make out in a corn maze or kiss goodbye, I suspect the two angsty lovers wouldn’t rush into the fluff without working through emotional stuff first. But I will definitely be exploring more non-angsty ideas for Elucien in the future!

#Elucien #Elain Archeron #Lucien Vanserra #acotar #Elain x Lucien #Lucien x Elain #Elucien fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #Elucien angst #Elucien fanfic #Elucien Tangled

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