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animezinglife · 8 days

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The Song of Spring

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her friend.

Her husband.

Her mate.

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

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

And another.

Then another.

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

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

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

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florencemtrash · 8 months

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The Wisp Between Worlds

CHAPTER FIVE: LOOK AT ME

Acotar fanfic/rewrite. Inner Circle x OC. Eventual Azriel x OC.

Summary: Have you ever wondered what you would do (and do differently) if you found yourself trapped in the fantasy world of your dreams? For Nora, this fantasy of hers is about to play out when she finds herself portaled away to the Moral Lands south of Prythian. But all is not as it seems. Feyre Archeron is missing and the deadline to break Amarantha’s curse draws near. Who will save Prythian now?

Warnings: None for this chapter

Masterlist

*Let me know if you would like to join the taglist*

________________

The library was a safe space full of softness and comfort. Tucked into a quiet corner of the manor, it overlooked the drowsy gardens with a solemn and watchful gaze like some silent sentinel. Soft sunlight, colored in vibrant greens, blues, and pinks from the stained glass windows, cast itself on the deep stained bookshelves that rose from the floor to the ceiling three stories up.

When Nora laid herself out on the lush velvet and stared up at the ceiling she could trace the shapes and careful brushstrokes of the fauns and river nymphs that raced across the pearl-inlaid canopy. When she fell asleep, clutching the leather-bound history books to her chest, she imagined the eyes of those creatures beginning to glow, watching her with careful interest as sleep finally came to claim her.

She was a ravenous girl, barreling through at least one book a day as she paced around the library, head bent and mouth silently making shapes of the words that flooded her mind. The first day she had scoured the first few shelves of books, searching for anything and everything related to history, politics, economics, and magic - though mainly history. The next few days she carefully and methodically worked her way through the stacks of books that she arranged on the empty desk by the window, stealing every inch of sunlight before the encroaching dark eventually forced her to return to her room, books in tow. Rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat until she could repeat from memory the names and children of the seven High Lords of the seven courts of Prythian dating back seven generations, until the drawings of the magic creatures that existed throughout the courts invaded her nightmares.

Lucien held the reins loosely in his hands, feeling the muscles of the horse beneath him ripple and flex as they moved along the uneven earth. These were deep and dark woods they found themselves in, woods that had fallen outside the bounds of Tamlin’s waning powers. He wouldn’t have dared to trek this far into the Western Woodlands if it weren’t for the High Lord that stalked beside him looking more comfortable as a beast than as a fae.

Four months. They had four months to break this curse.

“Nora seems to be settling in nicely.” Lucien said. He knew Tamlin had slipped into the library on multiple occasions, too hesitant to interrupt the girl whose blazen quest for books had overtaken the space. Still, he was glad to see the space used. It had been a long time since anyone had walked their halls with any real sense of purpose.

Tamlin grunted in reply.

“Last I heard she’s stowed herself away in the library.” Again, silence. “Reading.”

“That is what you do in libraries, Lucien. If you’re going to say something, say it simply.”

Lucien started at the movement of shadows out of the corner of his eye. Brushing off the unease of feeling watched, he said, “She likes books. Might be an avenue to court her.”

“Court her?” Tamlin said with no small amount of derision, “I remember you saying I should drop her in these woods for the Bogge.”

“And like most other times you chose to ignore my advice.” Lucien kept the irritation and bitterness out of his voice with practiced ease. “Whether I like it or not, she’s here. You’ve allowed a murderer into our home-”

“Into my home. I know what I’m doing.”

Lucien stilled, the horse pulling at the bit to continue forward - she wanted to finish their hunt and get out of these woods just as much as the son of Autumn on her back.

“If you know what you’re doing, then you know how important it is to get her to fall in love with you. It’s the only shot we have, Tamlin, and time is running out.”

“Don’t you think I know that!” Tamlin roared in frustration, turning on his heels and barring his teeth, “Don’t you think I know we are teetering at the edge of a knife? The future of my court, of Prythian, is in the hands of some human girl. A human girl that dozens have died to bring here.”

Dozens of friends sent to their death beyond the wall, murdered and cut apart and sold to the highest bidder for nothing. Everytime he thought about it too closely, his mind would descend into dark places that took days to emerge from. It was what kept him away from the manor, chasing after beasts of shadow and darkness that prowled the edges of his court, nipping at his heels like the evil omens they were.

“I don’t need you to remind me that time is running out.” Tamlin muttered and sighed, eyes looking off to the slivers of green pasture that slipped through the crowded woods, “Go back to the manor, Lucien, and keep an eye on the girl. I’ll finish this myself.”

“Tam-”

“GO!” Tamlin growled. The horse pawed anxiously at the ground, twisting its neck back towards home. Lucien allowed her to follow her instincts. She transformed the brisk trot into a gallop as they escaped the woods together leaving Tamlin behind.

Nora sat at the table, flipping through the pages of an index of magical creatures as she broke off bits of a chocolate scone and sipped at the cup of tea before her. Alis had all but dragged her out of the library to have lunch in the dining hall like a civilized person. It seemed pointless to Nora - why have lunch alone in the dining hall when she could have lunch alone in the library. It wasn’t even like Alis stayed with her all day, despite Nora’s frequent requests to be taken out of the manor to go horseback riding or to explore more of the manor’s grounds.

“Don’t know what you want to go out for.” Alis would say, “There are creatures in every corner that would love to sink their teeth into you.” Nora wondered if Tamlin was included in that group.

She hadn’t seen Tamlin, or Lucien, in two and a half weeks. Two and a half weeks of holing up in the library and only emerging to take extended walks around the manor or for mealtime. She’d already given up on trying to learn weapons fighting - reading techniques in books and practicing with an old fire poker didn’t equate to proper instruction from a swordsman and after months of surviving on so little, she doubted she had gained the strength to lift a real sword. Maybe if she pestered Tamlin or Lucien enough…

Her head shot up from the page on the Suriel as Lucien sauntered in, mouth flattening into a thin line when he saw Nora sitting at the table. She never looked quite right in Spring colors - pale pinks and blues too pastel against her skin, which had steadily been taking on a tan now that she was removed from the winter months in the Human Lands.

She swallowed her last bite guiltily, quick to move her papers and books from the dining table to make space for him. He waved off her efforts, sinking into the seat furthest from her and beginning to help himself. Her dark eyes tracked his movements as keenly as a hunting dog.

“Where’s Tamlin?” she asked carefully.

“Out hunting.” His words were quick and to the point. He’d tried to shrug off the sting of Tamlin’s words on his ride back home to the manor.

“What would he have to hunt? There never seems to be a lack of food.”

“He’s not hunting to eat, he’s hunting to keep these lands safe. You didn’t seriously think all fae would be as welcoming as we’ve been?”

Her eyes flitted down to the book she’d been reading, “No. I didn’t think that at all.”

With a snap of his fingers the book appeared in his hand. She jumped from her seat, running around the table to try and steal back the book, but Lucien merely stood up and held it out of reach, golden eye whirring as he read aloud, “The Book of Beasts - Erudition and Mesmerism. This is what’s kept you trapped in the library?”

She pushed roughly at his chest, frowning when he didn’t budge.

He walked over to her abandoned notes, eyes skimming the pages of her handwriting which progressively worsened the more tired and anxious she became. All notes on how to protect from magic and wicked fae of every variety. A familiar figure kept cropping up - The Suriel. Lucien examined everything thoroughly, tracing the words she’d written with a careful, if not quick, hand.

Nora scrambled to pick up her notes and books when he finally stepped away, hurrying back to the library in a flurry of tulle and anxiety. Would he think her strange for her research? Would he begin to suspect her plan?

No, that’s ridiculous. There’s no way for him to know what I know. He wouldn’t even believe me if I told him.

Wherever Tamlin was, he’d sent Lucien back to keep an eye on her. She might have enjoyed having company if he didn’t hover without so much as a word, slipping in and out of the library with a quietness her poor human ears couldn’t pick up on. He seemed infinitely curious about all the time she spent in the library and would occasionally get up from his seat on the sofa and take a turn around the room, brushing past her shoulders and peering over to look at her reading for that day, at which point she’d slam the book shut or gather her notes to her chest like they were her own children. There were few things she could call her own, and so she wouldn’t give up these scraps of knowledge, not even for Lucien.

“Who taught you to read?” Lucien gazed up at the girl. She’d moved around the library like a ghost on a mission, only huffing and muttering underneath her breath when the pages refused to yield their knowledge to her.

Nora gripped the ladder tightly. She had to crane her neck to look past the many layers of her seafoam green dress to where Lucien stood at the base of the ladder. With every passing day that Tamlin neglected to appear at the manor, the more anxious Alis became. Nora was no longer allowed to pick her dresses. Instead Alis would spend the first two hours of every morning carefully arranging her gowns and her hair to look perfect in advance of Tamlin’s arrival. Lucien had to admit that Alis’s efforts were working, paired with the simple fact that Nora was slowly filling out her dresses with regular meals and time to rest. Her skin no longer held that pallor of poverty.

“Excuse me?” She looked at him like he’d grown horns.

“Where’d you learn to read?”

Nora blinked, briefly forgetting that illiteracy was a prevalent problem in the Human Lands. “Jaskiel taught me. He was a merchant.”

“And who is this Jaskiel?”

Lucien didn’t miss the droop of her shoulders or the sad memories that glazed over her eyes. She missed him dearly.

“I suppose you could call him my adoptive father.” The smirk on Lucien’s face faltered. He only knew the briefest account of her story - taken by slavers from the Continent and forced to survive by the Wall on the kindness of strangers.

“Merchants are taught to read contracts - bland and boring things.” He said, fingers dragging over the shelf with a look of boredom.

“Words are words.” She said, eyes returning to the soft leather spines of the books in front of her, “Just because you start off reading contracts doesn’t mean you can’t learn to enjoy other things.”

“Like bland and boring accounts of history.”

She shot him a look of indignation before returning to her search, “What do you want, Lucien?”

Lucien shifted beneath that gaze - a look that spoke of exhaustion and a sadness deep and unbroken. It was a feeling he was well acquainted with.

He should hate her. She was here solely because she hated fae strongly enough to murder one in cold blood, but the longer and longer she remained at the manor, the less he felt that to be true. How hateful could someone be who seemed so genuinely curious about their way of life, their magic, the creatures good and bad that roamed the lands wild and wicked? More than once he’d passed by the library to find her pouring over pages with a light in her eyes that could rival the powers of the Day Court.

More than hateful, she just seemed lonely.

Slowly the pieces began to fall into place. The second set of tea cups on the table, the hours upon hours spent alone reading about Prythian, the unfinished letters to her family, blotted and torn from tears - they laid out a story of loneliness and a fear of a world wholly unfamiliar to her and filled to the brim with people that would like nothing more than to see her dead. It was a miracle Amarantha hadn’t found out about her.

“I thought you might like some company.” Lucien said, abandoning the snide comment he’d been planning to tell her, “Maybe time spent away from this stuffy place.” After all, she would be of no use to anyone if she went mad in isolation.

She perked up at this, climbing down the ladder in her ridiculously lavish dress that felt more appropriate for a Court ball than a day spent indoors.

“Where will we be going?”

She stretched out her arms, breathing in the familiar scent of the woods. After trading in the dress for riding pants and a cloak, Lucien had led them out on horseback to the Western Woods, still close enough to the manor that they would be safe. Birds chirped lazily from their nests, drunk on honey and nectar and the wind whispered between the gaps in the trees. The spare bow Lucien had given her rested comfortably on her back. It wouldn’t be of much use in the hands of an untrained human, but if it made her feel more relaxed in his presence he would allow it.

Maybe I should strap a sword to her back when Tamlin’s around. Lucien thought with a silent chuckle, then immediately stopped. Tamlin would hate to see her armed.

He took the lead, a few paces in front with his own sword strapped to his side in a sheath of glimmering gold. Nora wondered if it had ever been used before.

“You said Tamlin’s been out hunting but you never told me what.” Nora said, breaking the fragile silence and surprising Lucien.

“A creature called a Bogge. A creature you should pray never to cross paths with. I assume you’ve come across it in your readings?” He turned in his seat, the tail of his riding cloak catching the light to shift between gold and forest green - colors fit for a bright autumn day.

Nora nodded, “A species of lesser fae. Children of one of the First Gods, Lanthys. Formless and filled with malice and hate, they don’t become real until you give them the power to become real by looking at them.”

The corner of Lucien’s mouth twisted in a half-smile. She sounded like a prized pupil that had been waiting for an examination.

“How do you fight it?” She asked, “In the Human Lands people say fae are vulnerable to iron and ashwood. Iron does nothing and most weapons here aren’t made from ashwood. So how do you kill other fae? How do you kill an idea?”

“You’ve been doing your research.”

“There’s been little else to do.” Nora said, looking off to the side as a squirrel darted out from the underbrush, “Boredom made me rather productive.”

“Like attracts like,” Lucien said, repeating the words that most high fae children heard first from their tutors, and then from soldiers and generals if they were ever trained in the art of warfare, “Like protects like, and like destroys like. Contradictory, I know, but it’s magic that can transform typical weapons into ones capable of killing other fae or magic embedded into fae-crafted weapons that give them power. Ashwood is special - it has a natural magic of its own that allows it to be deadly to us, even when wielded by humans. You can still find fae-crafted weapons with ashwood inlays.”

Nora pulled out a glistening silver arrow from her quiver. Sure enough, threaded through the metal as finely as veins in a living body, were slivers of gray-stained ashwood. Lucien slowed down to walk shoulder to shoulder with her, tracking the gentle sway of her body as she ran her fingers along the shaft of the arrow.

“As for the Bogge,” He continued, feeling her hang onto his every word, “Only a High Lord has the power capable of destroying it.”

She nodded thoughtfully, “Hence why Tamlin’s been hunting it for the last two weeks.”

Lucien stiffened in his seat, then swore loud enough for the sterlings nearby to take flight.

Nora chuckled - a sound he’d never heard before.

“How long have you known Tamlin was High Lord?”

Always. “Since the second night.” The lie rolled easily off her tongue, “I found a genealogy tome in the library. You’re in there too, obviously.”

At the briefest mention of his family, Lucien’s expression darkened and Nora knew not to brush the subject again. Memories, dark and terrible, floated behind his eyes almost as easy to read as a book. He schooled his face into one of bored neutrality, but there was a bite behind his words when he said, “Be careful of the things you learn, Nora.” It was the first time he’d ever said her name.

“If Tamlin’s a High Lord, the Bogge should be easy to track down and kill, shouldn’t it? He’s one of the most powerful beings in all of Prythian.”

Lucien set his teeth together. “It’s not as simple as that anymore.”

“And why not?”

“I can’t-” Lucien growled in frustration, rubbing at his temples and brushing against the borders of the mask on his face with hate. Strands of scarlet hair fell out from his elegant braid, as if highlighting his distress. The timing was almost perfect enough to be comedic. “I can’t tell you.”

“Why not? I’ve done my reading, magic is as much a part of Prythian as water is to the sea.” Just tell me about Amarantha - as much as you can say under the curse. Say the words and I’ll figure the rest out myself, “Nowhere does it mention the capacity for anything to go wrong with the-”

Lucien grabbed hold of Nora’s waist and dragged her over onto his horse, clamping one strong hand over her eyes and pressing her against his chest. Curses spilled from her mouth as she slapped him. She may as well have been hitting a stone wall.

Why the fuck are you so goddamn strong?

“Stop it. Stop it now.” Lucien hissed into the curve of her ear, fear lacing through every fiber of his voice. It was enough to make her freeze in her seat. “Don’t move. Don’t look. No matter what happens, don’t look.”

The tan of his face had been all but drained, leaving the space between the mask and his jaw pale and sickly. She felt it then, the presence of something lurking at the edges of her mind and soul. Something as old as time itself, ancient and horrible in every way imaginable. It waited outside of her mind, knocking and slamming its hands against doors and walls that remained firmly shut.

She clamped her eyes shut tightly enough to see sparks behind her eyelids and silently latched onto one arrow with a vice-like grip.

Lucien’s breath was trapped in his chest as that inky, devilish voice invaded his mind and made his stomach turn.

Look at me…Look at me. LOOK AT ME!

I will devour you whole - your flesh, your body, your soul. I will be your worst nightmare. I will drink your blood and gnaw on your bones.

Look at me.

Lucien flinched, pathetically attempting to steel his ever-weakening resolve against the Bogge’s temptations. Every cell in his body screamed at him to end his misery, to end it all and gaze upon the Bogge. Anything to stop this madness.

I will leave you for the crows. I will bury you in the earth.

LOOK AT ME.

I will fulfill all your desires. I will give you everything.

Nora waited with bated breath for the feeling to leave her and slowly but surely, she felt the turning of her stomach ebb away into nothingness.

“You can open your eyes now.” Lucien gasped out as he gestured for Nora to remain on his saddle and set the mare into a quick pace back to the manor. Nora’s horse followed close behind, edging ahead of them now that it had reason to run and lacked the weight of a rider.

“The Bogge?” Nora asked quickly.

Lucien nodded, taking the time to assure himself that Nora was alright. And she was… surprisingly. Aside from the pale tint to her skin and the way she leaned against his chest, curling in on herself as if he could shield her, she was handling it remarkably well.

Tamlin paced at the front doors, immediately alerted to Lucien and Nora’s presence in his lands when they emerged from the woods. His green eyes, alight with fury and fear at returning to an empty house, narrowed in on the pair. The riderless horse arrived first, chestnut brown coat slick with sweat and foaming at the mouth from exertion.

Lucien stilled, pulling at the reins ever so slightly and dreading what thoughts might be running through Tamlin’s mind. He’d taken Nora off the main grounds without permission, and nearly gotten the both of them killed in the process. From the way Tamlin’s jaw clenched at the sight of the two of them sharing a saddle, he was not pleased.

“Where the hell have you been?” Tamlin growled out when Lucien leapt off the horse. He brushed off Lucien’s hands and helped Nora down himself before she could say anything, hands gently grasping her waist.

When she was on solid ground he placed himself in between her and Lucien.

“Tamlin, I can explain.” Lucien said, lifting his hands in surrender.

“Explain it then.” He pushed back on Lucien’s chest and unlike the times when Nora had done so, he was forced to step back and regain his balance, “I come home expecting the two of you to be here. Next I hear you’ve disappeared into the Western Woods. Do you understand how dangerous these times are?! And for a human girl no less!”

“I wasn’t thinking-” Lucien stumbled over his words and his steps. Tamlin opened his mouth, anger and power rolling off his body.

“I asked him to go!” Nora shouted, pulling at Tamlin’s arm that was pointed firmly at Lucien’s chest. “I was bored to death in that house and I asked him to go. I begged him.”

A sliver of relief swam behind Lucien’s mask as Tamlin turned towards Nora. She immediately let him go and stepped back, wrapping her arms around herself and making herself small.

“Don’t blame him.” She murmured, “It was my idea.”

“I suppose I should’ve done more to make sure you were taken care of.” He said through gritted teeth. None of the tension left his shoulders when he acknowledged Lucien once more, taking in the thinly veiled fear in his eyes, “What happened in the woods? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I nearly looked at the Bogge.”

Tamlin froze, “The Bogge? In the Western Woods?”

Lucien nodded.

“That’s impossible. I already checked every inch of those lands. The wards-” Tamlin bowed his head and cursed the ground beneath his feet. “Lucien, get Nora back to her room. And neither of you leave the manor until I get back. Understood?”

They both nodded as the ground beneath him began to glow. It was as if the land itself was draining its magic into Tamlin’s body, setting his skin alight in shades of bronze and gold. In the blink of an eye the beast that had first brought her to Prythian returned and Tamlin barreled towards the treeline.

“Come on, let’s go.” Lucien said, tilting his head towards where Alis waited by the front steps, gnarled hands as wrinkled as a tree branch twisting in front of her stomach. “I’ll walk her to her room, Alis.” He said.

She bowed deeply, sneaking a glance at the ruined state of Nora’s riding boots and the flecks of tree bark in her hair. But then her eyes softened and relief flooded in. The girl was safe. That was all that mattered.

“You did well, not looking.” Lucien said as they wove their way through the labyrinth of hallways and then finally stopped in front of her door. The words, thank you, lingered on the tip of his tongue, daring to dive out of his mouth.

Thank you for taking the fall for me today. Thank you for lying.

But instead he said, “Most fae fall for the Bogge’s temptations.”

Her brows furrowed together. “What do you mean?”

Lucien tilted his head in confusion, russet and gold eyes narrowing, “The Bogge speaks to you in your mind and shakes your soul. It promises you things great and terrible - anything to get you to look at it.”

Nora looked stealthily down to the floor, hiding her face and trying to match the lingering terror in Lucien’s countenance. She imagined she was painting an image of herself in his likeness.

Lucien gently held her shoulders, shaking her until she looked up at him with worry. He scanned her face, eyes widening, “You didn’t hear the Bogge, did you?”

“I did.” She lied, but he caught onto it.

“No… No you didn’t.” Lucien snapped his head up and looked around the empty hallway quickly. He bent down until she could look directly in his eyes and murmured desperately beneath his breath, “Tell no one about this.”

Nora gaped, “What?” She whispered back.

“I don’t know what it is, but there’s something strange about you, and that is dangerous. Tell no one.”

She nodded dumbly, stunned and overwhelmed by everything that had happened today. The weight of it crashed around her as chaotically as a tsunami. Lucien opened the door and ushered her in, giving her one last careful glance before leaving her to her thoughts.

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Taglist: @myheartfollower @impossibelle @chybay22 @lahoete

Author's note: Lucien deserves more love - that's it. That's the note. Oh also, apologies it's taken me so long to get this chapter out. Life has unfortunately happened.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #eventual azriel x oc #lucien x oc #lucien vanserra #tamlin the tool #a court of thorns and roses #sjm #acotar rewrite #the spring court #acotar spring court #eventual inner circle x oc #found family #writeblr #azriel shadowsinger

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