Cait’s Abyss

My blog is centered around whatever my current hyperfixation is | do not dm if you’re under 20 Old enough to drink alcohol in US| she/they

[apothe-roses]

~Cait’s Masterlist~

Multi-Fandom:

12 Days of Smuff

Aemond Targaryen

Multi-part:

I Wanna Ride modern au

Se agapo, se thelo Greek mythology au (eros and psyche)

One-Shot:

Let me Put my Lips to Something

Dance of the Sugarplum Prince (nutcracker au)

Enmity | Aemond Targaryen x Alysanne Blackwood

Imagines/Moodboards:

HotD Crackships and Rarepairs

ACOTAR x ASOIAF

HotD Winter Word Prompts ‘23

Dragon Moodboards

Dividers by @anlian-aishang

[darklove9314-blog]

Who I Am: An Elucien Fanfic.

Hello everyone and welcome to Day 6 of Elucien week!!!

Prompt: Scars.

Synopsis: When secrets come to light at Nesta and Cassian's mating ceremony, the night takes an unexpected turn. (This is part 2 of a 3 part fanfiction for Elucien week. The final installment will be out tomorrow)

"Shapeshifter tryna make it all work, keep coming in last, putting everyone first. It's not enough no matter what I do. So tell me, tell me, tell me, who I am to you" -Who I Am, Alex Warren (Elain's POV)

"You know how much I love making you smile, Can't you see I haven't seen mine in a while?" -Who I Am, Alex Warren (Lucien's POV)

Ever since Elain had been a little girl, she had always loved weddings, had spent hours envisioning her own wedding, pouring years of her life into planning such an audacious event down to even the tiniest detail. Even down to the centerpieces that would adorn the tables and the font she would use on her invitations.

Every detail so damn near perfect that her family would be the talk of the ton. And they would finally realize that they had been wrong to turn their backs on them when they had lost their fortune, but she had never gotten that chance. From the second Elain got tossed into that cauldron, the ideas for her life had shifted, changed, and she now she felt completely out of depth.

She thought on it now, as she shifted in her chair, the fae amongst her chattering as they eagerly awaited for the ceremony to begin. In the Human Lands it was customary to stand by the bride when her and the groom married, here however, no one stood by the female that was going to be mated, instead the mated couple walked up the aisle together and back down the aisle as well. She had never experienced such an event, but the preparations themselves had made it feel so much like a wedding that Elain hadn't minded the change.

She lounged back in her seat, Feyre and Rhys sitting beside her as Nyx laid in Feyre's arms, sleeping contently there as Rhys smiled down at the babe.

A sinking sensation sank in the pit of Elain's stomach. She did not begrudge Feyre nor Nesta for finding their own happiness, but as she gazed upon this mating ceremony and the babe in Feyre's arms, she couldn't help but feel a semblance of grief for her former life. Sure it had not been perfect, and perhaps her and Graysen may not have worked out in the long run, but it had still been the one she had built for herself. Even if it was far from the life she had dreamed of.

Her fingers smoothed the fabric of the crimson gown, she had never worn a color like this before, had never made an attempt. But she had made a vow to herself earlier that year that she would try harder to be bold, to be confident within herself even if every instinct told her it was a waste of time. Perhaps that was why she had chosen to wear something outside of her usual color palette. Or perhaps the conversation she had with Lucien the other day had stuck with her.

She knew she shouldn't dare a look, not with Feyre and Rhys so close, but she felt her eyes wander towards him regardless, as if he were a mark on a map that she was searching for, and she had suddenly found him.

As always, Lucien Vanserra looked positively debonair as he held a conversation with ease, speaking to Morrigan, Gwyn, and Emerie. As if they had conversed with one another for centuries instead of Lucien just meeting Nesta's friends moments before.

A stab of something coursed through Elain, the bond urging her to go to him, to talk amongst the group of people that he had chosen to surround himself with tonight, but as she took one look at his expression she thought better of it.

She had seen how enervated Lucien had looked yesterday, knew that he had probably been looking forward to a night like this, and regardless of how well their conversation had went the other day, she did not want to take that joy away from him. Even though as he spoke she swore she still saw some of that exhaustion still linger within him.

As if he had felt her watching him, his eyes briefly snagged onto hers, as if locating her in the crowded venue had come with a sense of ease, as if he had felt that call to find her too.

He gave her a tentative smile, cautious as he was in all things with her before she glanced away, not wanting her eyes to linger on the ones she swore she had known her whole life.

Just the bond. she told herself even if every instinct within her rebelled against the thought.

Taking a deep breath, Elain sent a prayer up to The Mother that Feyre and Rhys hadn't caught her glancing at Lucien, the last thing she needed was for her youngest sister to meddle in her affairs. No matter how well meaning her intentions were, no one liked when one was forced into conversation.

Thankfully, the two hadn't seemed to notice, so lost in the pleasure of each other's company that everyone else paled in comparison. She wondered what it was like to feel that way, to love someone so much that the thought of loving someone else felt downright abhorrent.

She glanced over again, daring another look at Lucien as her spine straightened at what she saw before her eyes. Mortification coursing through her as she saw who now lingered by Lucien and Mor's side. Azriel.

By The Mother- she thought as Lucien exchanged polite pleasantries with Azriel. She knew the two had been conversing with one another, knew that Lucien gave Azriel biweekly reports about how the Spring Court was fairing. Perhaps this was one of those times.

But as Azriel took a seat by Gwyn, she knew that Azriel was not planning on leaving her mate's side anytime soon. She was so thoroughly fucked.

**************************************************************************

Despite mating ceremonies being momentous occasions, celebrated by all fae across the lands due to their rarity and extravagance, Lucien couldn't help the deep sinking feeling of melancholy that overtook him when he thought on his own circumstances. Not just of his current ones, where his ma-Elain would scarlessly talk to him, but of his past circumstances as well.

He had met Jesminda by happenstance, on a cold night during Samhain after his father had kicked him out of their family's annual celebration, claiming that if Lucien wanted to sit there and look miserable that he could just sod off.

Lucien had swiped a bottle of his father's finest liquor, gave the male an obscene gesture that had even the most trained of courtiers stammering, and had wandered off into the woods without so much as a word to the male, knowing that his father would punish him for it later, but couldn't dread up enough care about it to give a singular fuck.

He was deep in drink, perched at the roots of a willow tree when he had met her. She was the most beautiful female he had ever met with her warm brown skin and her array of light brown curls, her eyes the exact same shade of the jade green river that ran along the forest, and her wings...her wings were that of the same monarch butterflies that resided in his mother's gardens.

She was truly magnificent, more beautiful then words could compare. She stumbled upon him that night, had seen the hopelessness and deep etched pain in his eyes and had stuck her hand out and had asked for a drink.

He had obliged her, only rising his eyebrows the slightest bit at her boldness as she took a healthy gulp, better than most fae he had encountered throughout his years, and when she had gave him back the bottle, she had invited him to an event that was similar to this.

If she were here tonight she would have found a way to enjoy every moment of it. Lucien remarked, Jesminda had always loved weddings and mating ceremonies. Had found them to be an act of resistance. A form of taking back joy even when everything else in life seemed dark and impossible. It was why she had chosen to take him to one that night, to see the joy return back into his eyes. To remind him that occasions like these were what they fought for.

A lump formed in his throat. He had fought for their love. had thought their love would have been enough to triumph over everything, only to have that dream crushed underneath his father's fist.

Panic settled deep within Lucien's chest as fragments of Beron's words flowed through his mind.

"I don't appreciate my belongings being tampered with, their head filled with fairytales and hopes for the future beyond what i have destined for them...."

"I think it's time I gave you a firm reminder that you are my son, Lucien, and my sons do nothing without my say so....."

"Get off that damned floor and stop making a fool of yourself boy, The last thing a Vanserra does is cry over lesser fae whores..."

"You, Lucien, are my greatest mistake..."

"I will ensure that your life is a living hell."

"It appears as if the whispers amongst the courts were right, this one is quite the beauty. I hope this one fairs better than your last one did.."

His hand wrapped around the arm of the chair, his heart palpitating at that voice...at those memories. Not just from the night of Jesminda's death, but also from when his father found out he had a way to hurt Lucien once more, to break him, by going after the ones he cared about most.

He couldn't do it..,.He couldn't be here, just being around her, being in the same city or even the same court as her was danger enough. He had to get out of here....he had to-

"You look like you need this more than me.” A female voice interjected interrupting the spiraling of his thoughts as his gaze flickered to Mor. A smile plastered to her face as she sat in an unoccupied chair next to him, offering him a glass of champagne.

Usually he avoided drinking to calm his nerves or as of recently he had tried to make a habit of it. But those memories still lingered, so bad that he swore he could still feel the blood on his hands. Her lifeless body in his arms, the wicked gleam in his father’s eyes. A promise that he had no qualms about taking anyone he ever loved lives. His stomach roiled just thinking about it.

Mor offered the glass again, a knowing look in her eye. Her and Lucien weren’t particularly close, but she had never treated him as less than solely based off who his family was. In this way they had an understanding of one another. She knew what it was like to be afraid of someone whose job was supposed to be to protect you. And she knew what it felt like to try and be the antithesis of everything they were. Even if they never grew closer than this, Mor understood a part of him that most didn’t, and for that he could at least try to be himself around her.

“Thank you.” He told her, grabbing the glass as she gave him a reassuring smile that said,

This town is heavily warded, he can’t get to her here. She’s safe.

He gave her an appreciative look as her gaze swept around them.

“Elain really outdid herself with the floral arrangements for this. Maybe she should consider doing this kind of thing full time. Mother knows there are fae out there that wouldn’t know how to put floral arrangements together even if it bit them in the ass.”

Lucien smiled to himself, recalling how she had insisted that he add delphiniums to his growing collection of sunflowers that had inhabited his arch. He knew something had been missing from the arch, could not put his finger on it until she had made the suggestion.

He had not informed her that as soon as he had bathed and slept he had head out to the florist to pick up just that. The arrangement was beautiful and had really brought out the natural beauty of the sunflower while making his living quarters feel like he was walking into the day itself. As if he were walking into a home rather than a cold unfeeling apartment that hadn’t reminded him of such.

He had informed her that sunflowers had always been his mother’s favorite, how they had been his too. Had told her that they reminded her of his home, and they had, but what he had left out is that they also reminded him of her. Of the joy she illuminated in this cruel world and the beauty she brought to it. He also hadn’t mentioned that there were so many sunflowers in his apartment because he had bought one at the florist for each day he had known her. That would be a secret he would keep close to his chest, the memory bringing him fondness and settling some of the raging storm within him as he took another sip of champagne.

“She does seem to have an eye for such things.” He remarked as a sly smile played on Mor’s lips.

“Perhaps you should tell her that. I’m sure no one has mentioned it to her today.” Mor encouraged as Lucien dared another glance at Elain.

Elain Archeron had always been one of the most beautiful females that he had ever laid eyes on, but here tonight she looked downright seraphic.

He had never seen her in such a color before. The color crimson complementing the undertones of her skin. He took another drink, praying to the mother that she would not feel his gaze upon her, would not feel at what the sight of her in that dress was doing to him. How it made his palms clammy and his heart skip a beat. How it made him want to reach out towards her and-

Distraction. He had to find another distraction. He glanced at Mor whose smile was teasing as Lucien fought the urge to roll his eyes. He really needed to work on how much emotion he conveyed through his facial expressions. Especially with his present company involved.

He schooled his expression into one of indifference even though he was fairly certain with that power of hers she could sense that too. Sense that he was avoiding more things then he let on, even though Mor would never press him to talk about them.

It was hard to believe that once this female had been betrothed to his eldest brother. Had been arranged to marry him by their fathers. His stomach turned at the thought at what had been done to her. The cruelty of it. He had been sorry for the pain that his father’s political alliance with Keir had caused her. He had not been alive when all of it had happened, but he still felt bad for it regardless.

Perhaps that is why some of his resolve softened around Mor. Knew that she was only trying to help. That she had seen something that day in him when he had arrived in Velaris that had deemed him worthy of entrance to this city. Perhaps she had seen the same things in him that she saw in herself. And had decided that regardless of what had happened between her and his family that she would not hold those over him. And for that he would always be grateful.

“The ceremony is about to start soon.” He argued, as Mor opened her mouth to retort instead a female voice answered,

“If Nesta and Cassian can escape from the dressing room in enough time to make it to their ceremony.”

Mor turned towards the voice, as Lucien did the same. Two females strode towards them, an Illyrian female and one of the priestesses, he knew who they were before they had even introduced themselves. Had heard about them being the first two females who had reached the top of Ramiel. Gwyn and Emerie.

“You made it.” Mor smiled addressing the former.

Gwyn gave a casual shrug, playing with the charm on her necklace, a nervous habit perhaps, as Gwyn answered,

“Emerie here is ever the negotiator. She said that she would stick by my side all night and would disembowel any male who even glanced in my direction.”

Lucien took another sip of the champagne he held, as Mor’s laugh flowed over them.

“Well, you’re safe here. And I’ll join Emerie in her mission if anyone here makes you the slightest bit uncomfortable.”

Perhaps that was his cue to leave, before he could rise from his seat however Gwyn’s eyes flickered to him,

“You don’t have to leave. You were here first. I’m Gwyneth Berdara, by the way.” She introduced herself.

“It’s nice to meet you, Gwyneth, I’m Lucien.”

“You’re from the Autumn Court.” Gwyneth remarked as Lucien’s eyebrows rose.

“I guess the red hair gives it away.” Lucien answered as Gwyn laughed slightly.

“That and your name. You’re the High Lord of the Autumn Court’s youngest, are you not?”

Lucien gave a curt nod, most people in Prythian knew him as Beron Vanserra’s youngest son, exiled or not, his father still claimed him as such. Refused to let Lucien ever strip himself of his last name. It was not an act of love that had driven his father to do so. But rather an act of showing Lucien that he still held some power over him, despite Lucien doing everything he could to escape from it.

“I am. Though I do not use my family name. I haven’t in quite awhile.”

Gwyn nodded in understanding as Mor gestured toward the two empty seats beside her.

“Do you two want to join us? We have plenty of room.”

Emerie’s gaze flickered to Gwyn, assessing her friend whose arm was now looped through Emerie’s as she gave a reassuring nod.

The two females took unoccupied seats next to Morrigan. Gwyn taking the one by the very end as Emerie took a spot next to Mor. A faint blush painting her cheeks.

Mor’s eyes roamed over Emerie in an appreciative manner, noting the Illyrian females beauty.

“That color really suits you.” She told Emerie, her blush growing deeper at the compliment. The sage green of Emerie’s floor length gown complementing her features.

“Thank you. You look beautiful as well.” Emerie replied bitting her lip sheepishly.

Lucien took his eyes off the two females, feeling as if he were interrupting an intimate moment as Gwyn cleared her throat.

“They are certainly taking their time, aren’t they?”

Emerie chuckled slightly.

“I guess they couldn’t wait until after the ceremony to consummate their bond.”

Mor rolled her eyes slightly,

“Please that’s been going on for weeks. This is just to make it official.”

Lucien shrugged. He couldn’t say anything, and he didn’t think he would fair much better with his own mate. That is if Elain ever looked at him in that way. Or thought him worthy of her time. He couldn’t blame her for wanting nothing to do with him. Even if they had managed to have some semblance of a conversation yesterday. It didn’t suddenly mean she resented their bond any less. Not that he blamed her for that either.

She had been in love with someone else, she had been happy and was about to be wed, and he had played a part in taking that away from her, whether it was his intention to or not, he could understand her ire. After all would he not have done the same thing if Jesminda had survived? He imagined if she had, he would not have left his wife to be with her.

Perhaps that was why he understood her rejection, why she had chosen him despite having a mating bond with Lucien.

Not having a mating bond didn’t mean Lucien had loved Jesminda less. And it didn’t mean he mourned her any less either. So why wouldn’t it have been the same for her.

He had heard her devastation upon arriving to see her, how the loss of both him and her mortality had cut her deeply. Had hated himself for even contributing the slightest bit to her pain. Perhaps that was partially why he left. Because he knew that if Elain had the choice she would have chosen Graysen. And he couldn’t fault her for that, even if he was the most insufferable prick Lucien had ever met. Elain had loved him for a reason.

And then he had learned about how abhorrently Graysen had treated her. Had learned that after he had left, Elain had visited Graysen to not only plead for his help, but to also reunite with him, hoping that Graysen would love her, and then he had crushed every dream she had ever had and had ended their engagement all in the same breath. Had done so so cruely that it ignited Lucien’s anger everytime he thought of it.

To have a love like hers and to throw it away as if it had meant nothing….as if she had meant nothing. Lucien’s anger rose at the thought. He still hated the male, even though they had had to interact in the past couple years thanks to Jurian and Vassa, it was diplomacy and Elain alone that kept Lucien from giving him a piece of his mind. Though Greyson certainly threw a jab at Lucien every time he had a chance, Lucien refused to oblige him. To give him that satisfaction.

"Lucien?" Mor inquired, her gaze one of concern, pulling him back to the present.

"Sorry. What was the question?" He asked as Emerie and Gwyn gave him a sidelong glance,

"I was telling them that you've worked for centuries as an emissary."

"Emissary, courtier, and liaison."

"When do you sleep?" Gwyn asked him as he chuckled softly,

"When I can manage. I don't mind though. I've always had trouble sleeping, my mother used to say it was because I was so filled with wanderlust that it made me restless, so I guess being an emissary made sense in the long run."

"Does it offer any leisure time? Like, do you actually get to enjoy the courts you're in? Or is it strictly business?" Gwyn asked.

This was familiar territory. Safe topics to talk about that didn't involve anything too personal. Small talk. Small talk he could do.

"It depends on why I'm there. Some negations take longer than others. but if I'm there for longer, i try to take a day or two for myself to see what the courts have to offer."

"Is it at least worth it?"

Lucien thought about it, thought about the long hours and the pressing work. the nights of exhaustion that bled into the days, the amount of people who relied on him to make the right decisions, the correct choice, but it had had it's bright sides too.

Lucien had always felt like a male without a home, without a purpose. He had never fit in within his own court, and always yearned for more than the path that his father wanted him to be on. He had always poured over countless books about voyagers and their travels. The history of the courts, biographies about High Lords of the past, about the history of the universe as a whole. It felt as if he could never get enough. He had always yearned for more knowledge, more understanding about the world around him. And this job had provided him an outlet for that.

"Yes. it may drive me crazy at times and be utterly exhausting, but I don't know where I would be or who I would be without it."

Something flickered in Mor's gaze, whether it be concern or worry, he did not know, but one thing he had found out about Mor is she had always been excellent at steering the conversation in another direction,

"It is fairly exhausting, after this ceremony is over I still have to pack to go back to Vallahan." She sighed taking a sip from her own drink.

"They still refuse to sign the treaty that we all drew up." Mor mused as Lucien glanced at her,

"it doesn't surprise me, from what I've heard they're all a bunch of pricks over there, though if I lived in freezing temperatures year round I'd probably be one too."

Mor laughed, "Lucien-Did you just make a joke?"

Lucien shrugged, "I make them more often then you think." He smiled,

"Well, you should do it more often. Not everything in life has to be so serious all the time."

He was about to reply, when he swore he felt someone's eyes on him, he felt her from across the room, his eyes catching hers as he tried his best to be casual to not startle her, his instincts told him to go to her, to talk to her. He fought them. This wasn't the time or the place, the ceremony was about to start soon and the last thing he wanted to do was misinterpret her signs.

Another presence approached, his shadows floating past all of them as one of them greeted Gwyn, a smile spreading over Gwyn's face.

"Well, hello there." She mused, the shadow dancing between her fingers, he had never seen Azriel's shadows do that.

His brows furrowed in confusion, before the Shadow Singers voice sounded from beside him.

"Is this seat taken?" He inquired, pointing to the one beside Lucien. Normally Lucien and Azriel only interacted when Lucien gave him updates. Any interaction past that was simply causal greetings and rushed conversation. Polite. Cordial. No matter what could potentially be occurring between him and his mate.

Lucien wasn't an idiot, knew how to read signs, and body language, especially what someone held in their eyes. He took a deep breath, taking another sip of his drink before turning to address Azriel,

"No. Go ahead."

Azriel nodded, sitting beside Lucien as he swore he felt something through the bond. Was she nervous? Or was there another reason why she was particularly anxious?

"Hello Shadow Singer." Gwyn greeted him as he swore he saw the Shadow Singer smile.

Lucien inclined his head, the priestesses smile lighting up at the sight of that smile, her fingers twiddling with the necklace clasped around her throat. Azriel's eyes went to it, his face unreadable as he greeted the priestess,

"Hello, Gwyn. I'm glad that you made it."

Mor glanced at them both, her brow furrowed slightly, as she observed the two, Emerie seemed to be doing the same. A pleased smile on her face, a smile of encouragement.

"Are they ever going to come out of there?" Gwyn asked Azriel as Mor looked inclined to agree.

"Knowing Nesta and Caasian, we may be waiting here for quite a while."

Mor huffed, taking a sip of her drink, as a voice said from behind him,

"If they make us wait any longer than we may as well call off the ceremony and head straight for the reception." Elain countered as he turned towards her, the others following suite.

Mor laughed, a smile blossoming at the sight of Elain as she replied,

"Now there's an idea I can get behind. Should we tell the guest to head to the reception area now or later?"

Elain's smile beamed as her eyes flickered to Emerie and Gwyn, The former returning her smile in kind, extending her hand to Elain as she said,

"You must be Elain, Nesta has told us so much about you, I'm Emerie."

"All good things I hope." Elain replied shaking Emerie's hand,

"Nothing too bad, I can assure you." Emerie said, as Elain's eyes flickered to Gwyn, swearing that Elain's smile faltered a bit, Lucien's eyebrows lifted. Things didn't usually tend to catch Elain off guard.

Gwyn's gaze met Elain's, her own confusion crossing her face as she extended her hand towards Elain,

"Hi, I'm Gwyneth, Gwyn for short, it's good to finally meet you."

"You as well." Elain smiled, and he swore-he swore something akin to hurt flashed in those eyes.

His instincts flared up, wanting him to comfort her, to do something about her sadness, but what had made her so upset?

"That is a lovely necklace." Elain remarked, gesturing towards the charm on Gwyn's neck, the rose reflecting in the light... it was quite beautiful. "Where did you get it?"

He swore he could see Azriel's face drain of color, Mor's looking as if she had been taken by surprise, as he glanced between the three of them,

The confusion in Gwyn's gaze, the hurt in Elain's, the mortification and shame in Azriel's....that fucker.

Fire ,licked Lucien's face, those irrational instincts surfacing once more as Lucien tempered them. He would not do anything, no matter how much this instincts wanted him to.

They do not control me. They do not control me.

Mor glanced over at Lucien, her own face draining of color. Of course she could see it...he guessed there was an advantage to truth being your power, you could always see through the bullshit.

Gwyn hand rested on her throat, the necklace shining on the harsh and unrelenting truth.

"Azriel gave it to me for solstice." Gwyn told her.

He saw the hurt flash in Elain's gaze, but that smile stayed on her face, the one she kept there no matter what, her mask, covering up the true depths of hurt underneath.

"Well, it's quite lovely."

He swore fury radiated in Mor's gaze, he hated to see what his own looked like if his fury matched her own as Mor willed Azriel to meet her gaze.

Lucien glanced at Azriel, at the male who had gifted his mate that necklace, probably during the same night he had been under the same roof. Had she rejected the gift? Was that why it was now in Gwyn's possession? And if Elain had rejected the gift why had she done so? And why had Azriel felt the need to give it to someone else. Even if Elain had rejected one of his gifts he would have never given it to someone else, would rather have kept it in his drawer collecting dust then dare give it to someone else. So why had he?

He swore he saw shame flicker through Azriel's gaze as Gwyn and Emerie glanced at everyone, Gwyn's face crumpling as the truth dawned on her, hurt flashing in her own gaze, and fury in Emerie's.

Elain's gaze softened at the hurt in Gwyn's eyes, at what she had just revealed, then as if she had remembered he was here, she turned towards him, guilt flickering in her gaze as she met his own.

She opened his mouth as if she would say something as if she would speak, but there was no explanation needed. He knew almost everything, and had finally put the truth together himself.

He wanted to get out of there, wanted to get away from that pity, from this deep set hurt that he felt even though he knew he had no right to feel it at all. How many times had she made it clear that she wasn't his no matter what the universe said about it? How many times was he going to come back, just to get hurt again? He shouldn't have come. He shouldn't have-

Music sweltered around the room, sending Lucien back out of his spiraling thoughts before Elain had any time to offer an explanation, as he averted his gaze.

"Finally." Mor muttered, still staring daggers in Azriel's direction as she turned in her seat. "I think that's our cue to take our seats."

Lucien took a deep breath, trying to center himself once more, despite the anger, despite the hurt, he would not ruin this night, he would not make a spectacle of himself after everyone had worked so hard to prepare for this night.

Mating ceremonies were supposed to be joyous occasions, and he refused to take any second of joy from this night, no matter how badly he was hurting.

Elain was still watching him, still willing him to look at her, every instinct telling him to look back, he thought she would have gone back to her seat by now, would have avoided him all together, but as the music swelled some guests turning when Nesta and Cassian emrged, Elain stood frozen there. Still watching him.

"Lucien." Her voice started,

"The ceremony is starting." He reminded her. Wishing he could climb out of this seat next to the Shadowsinger and sit elsewhere, he thought she would leave him, go back to her seat next to Rhys and Feyre and leave him here. But she instead, she held her ground.

"Lucien."

He met her gaze then, as she fiddled with the bracelet on her arm.

"Do you want to come sit with us? I mean-with me. Somewhere that is a little less crowded."

He swore his breath caught, his treacherous heart pounding at the sound of his name on her lips, at the invitation. He knew he should have declined it, did not know if she truly offered it because she wanted his company or if it was simply to piss Azriel off.

A part of him wanted to decline. wondering what had occurred between the two of them. If it was as simple as Azriel wanting to give Elain a gift for solstice, then why had he waited until Lucien was not in the room to do so? And why did they feel the need to hide anything? And why had she gave it back? If they felt something for one another, if they liked each other-then why had they felt the need to keep it from him, and if they had chosen that night to act on their feelings-

He didn't want to feel a sense of betrayal from this. Elain may have been his mate, chosen by whatever hand of fate had selected them for one another, but she was still her own person. And he had still stayed as far away from her as possible. Why hide it? Did they really think so low of him that they thought that the bond would override his common sense? Did they think so lowly of him that they didn't think he would prioritize Elain's happiness above his own....

Of course that's what they thought. It's what everyone thought of him. No matter how much he tried to make his decisions selflessly, people still expected the worst out of him.

He met her gaze about to decline her offer, to stay here with the others even if it meant sitting next to the male who wouldn't even look him in the eye. But as he met her gaze, something in her eyes made him falter.

He nodded, Mor watching them both closely as Lucien let Elain lead the way. He felt Rhys's eyes on them, Feyre's not too far behind as Nyx slept peacefully in the crook of her arms.

She gave Lucien a smile of greeting as he slid into the seat next to her, Elain taking the spot next to him as his eyes remained on the ceremonial alter.

He didn't want to meet anyone's eyes. Didn't want any looks of sympathy or worry. He just wanted to witness the ceremony and get out of there. They didn't really want him there-They had invited him as a courtesy. If he wasn't mated to Elain, he knew they would not want to be involved with him at all. How long would he do this to himself? How long would he accept scraps of affection from people who didn't even want him around? Even Feyre and Tamlin had felt weary of his presence. Even his relationship with Jurian and Vassa was starting to feel the same way. He was a puzzle piece trying to fit into different puzzles, sometimes he fit, but for anyone who truly looked they would know he wasn't apart of the puzzle at all.

He shook his head, he shouldn't be thinking of this when Nesta and Cassian were both walking down the aisle. He pushed whatever lingering feelings he had down, like his family had taught him to, and schooled his expression into one of diplomacy. He was a guest at a mating ceremony, and he needed to act like one.

So he turned towards the aisle, glancing at Nesta and Cassian, their hands clasped together as Elain watched her sister walk down the aisle, a smile on her face and a hint of something else within it too. He didn't have to guess what was on Elain's mind, but he could wager he already knew what she was thinking about.

When Nesta and Cassian finally reached the alter, Lucien turned back to the alter, swearing he felt Elain's eyes on him as they both bared witness to the ceremony ignoring the status of their own along the way.

**************************************************************************

The ceremony had been beautiful, despite the inner turmoil she had felt when it came to her own relationships, she was happy for Nesta, that she had found someone who had made her feel complete the way that Cassian had. It was all she ever wanted for her sisters, both of them. It was all that she had wanted for herself as well.

She couldn't help the sense of melancholy that overtook her as she watched as Nesta and Cassian sealed their union with a kiss, their smiles lighting up every corner of the room as her thoughts wandered to if that would have been her if her wedding had come to fruition.

Would she have been that happy with Greyson? Would they have even lasted to begin with? At first she had blamed it all on the bond and her new immortal life, but if Greyson had refused to stick around for that…had acted as if it had been her fault that she turned fae to begin with…would he have ever truly made a good husband if he couldn’t accept every part of her including the ones he didn’t like?

Her gaze wandered towards Lucien. His eyes did not meet hers, even though she felt the bond try to tug at him, to get him to look at her, to talk to her, but after what had just occurred she wouldn't blame him if he never met her gaze again.

She had seen it in his eyes that she had hurt him. Though it had never been her intention to do so, she had never wanted to hurt anyone, but in the end the she knew that her lack of communication between all parties had ended up hurting everyone in the long run. And Elain had never liked that feeling.

The crowd cheering sent her out of her spiraling thoughts, forcing her to live in the moments as she saw Lucien himself, clapping for the occasion.

She wasn’t surprised, Lucien was ever the diplomat, even when his own world was falling apart, he almost never let people see it. Except her, he could never hide behind that mask of emotions with her. She hadn't decided whether it had unnerved her or not, him being so open-so vulnerable, sometimes it helped her more than it hindered her, but now-now she couldn't help the guilt she had felt when he had let her see the pain in his eyes only a moment ago. International or not, she never wanted to see that look on Lucien’s face.

She didn’t know how to begin to explain everything to him. How to tell him what had been going through her mind that night and several nights before that.

She didn’t know how to explain that Greyson’s words that day had stuck with her, how they had left their mark. How when she had heard Greyson refer to Lucien as some fae male, she had felt a sense of protectiveness that she didn’t know how to explain. How the words of defense slipped out of her as easy as breathing.

How as soon as Lucien’s name had fallen from Elain’s lips, it had shattered any of her or Greyson’s illusions that reconciliation was ever possible between the two of them.

She had defended a stranger, a fae male she hardly knew to the man she was supposed to love above all else.

Elain had seen the rage and hurt in Greyson’s eyes. The disgust, as if he didn’t even recognize her anymore. As if the female he loved was no longer there.

She tried to salvage it, salvage any scrap of their relationship she could dig up as if the problems between them were just a weed she had to uproot. Only made worse when Greyson had insinuated that Elain belonged to Lucien. As if she were no better than an object.

She hated the insinuation. Hated that anyone thought her or Lucien belonged to each other when they didn’t even know each other.

And Lucien had just….accepted it. As if the thought of being chained to someone who he didn’t know that well did not intimidate or bother him in the slightest. As if this bond didn’t bother him at all. Or so she had thought at the time. Now-Now she wasn’t so sure.

She had told Greyson that it had meant nothing, that her heart belonged to him. And it had. She had given it to him so freely, had trusted him to protect it, handing it over to him so gingerly that it felt made out of porcelain, only for him to smash it into pieces when he had told her he didn’t want it. That he did not want her.

She had cried for hours in her tent that day, those hours bleeding into night, had mourned for another thread to her human life cut, had felt anger that Lucien had not even been there to witness what this bond between them had done. She resented him for it even though it had been her visions that made him leave in the first place. Her lack of action that had left her waiting on those damned stairs when all she had wanted him to do was stay.

And then Hybern had used that heartache to lure her in, to trap and capture her as if she were no more than a bird in a cage.

She had been terrified beyond belief. Scared out of her wits without any sense of direction, they had captured her because of her abilities. Because they wanted to put her sister and the High Lords at a disadvantage. They had wanted to use her powers to crush them and take what they thought was theirs.

She had trembled at thought, her eyes scanning the grounds, the faces of the soldiers Hybern had at his disposal.

Be observant, Her mind had warned her. Take note of the grounds and the people here.

Most of the faces were hateful, unfamiliar, but two faces besides the king’s had stuck out. He had been there that day at Hybern, had been at Greyson’s estate as well, had felt it had been his place to tell Greyson everything-

Jurian stood there, no emotion written on his stoic face as he took in the sight of her. The male at his side’s face flickering in recognition. Anger swelling within his gaze as Tamlin came into focus.

Was that anger on his face for the king? For the fact that he had taken her and would use her against Feyre? Or was that anger for a different reason? He like other fae knew exactly who Elain was. And knew who her mate was. Especially Tamlin.

Had he regretted his bargain with The King? Had he regretted what it had made him lose? She had no idea. And did Lucien leaving him for her make Tamlin resent her? Hate her? And did he hate Lucien for it too? For leaving? She tried to read his expression and for the life of her couldn’t tell.

“What are you doing?” Tamlin snarled towards The King, making her flinch slightly.

The King's eyes narrowed, his gaze focused on Tamlin as his lip curled up at the question. Reminding Tamlin who was in charge here, no doubt.

"Giving us an advantage." The King simply answered, his eyes scanning Elain, a twisted smile pulling at his lips as he gestured towards two of his men, making Elain tremble, her heart pounding rapidly, as every horrid thing the king and his men could do to her entered the forefront of her mind.

"Take her to my tent, turn off every light source that you can, and make sure that no one enters my tent without my say so. Do I make myself clear?" The King barked as his two men nodded, grasping her arms and leading her to the tent, Jurian's eyes tracking their movements , as Tamlin's did the same.

They would not help her, could not help her without blowing their own covers as she observed more of the camp, screams filling her ears as they-as they tortured humans. Her eyes meeting one of their gazes as the female with black hair trembled, her eyes pleading as she sent a prayer up to whatever being she worshipped, as Elain had been shoved in that tent. shoved in the tent that held no light, no air, and disposed in the furthest corner of it, farthest from the light.

She could feel it, the cauldron-the thing that had turned her into this-had lured her here to a place so dark, so vile that no light existed. She shuddered, It was cold in here too. So, So cold.

Realization washed over her, The King had put her in here on purpose, had wanted to remind her of that ageless dark, that never ending darkness that held no light, no warmth, it was as if she had been thrusted into it again.

There was no light here, only darkness and shadows, so abhorrent that she could not stand it. She hadn't known how long she had stayed trapped in that tent, wishing and praying to feel that light again.

There had been no light in that cauldron, had been so dark that when she had emerged from it, thrown onto those cobblestones like she had been washed ashore, the light had been blinding, disorienting.

It shone from everywhere, from every corner of that throne room, to a faint glow on her skin, an immortal light, a sign of her new immortal life, and then there, shining the brightest of all was him.

He hadn't seemed to notice it, his gaze wholly focused on her as he walked towards her, so bright that her eyes took time to adjust, to focus.

He was walking towards her, walking-

She shrank away, she didn't want to be touched, did not want to go back into that wretched thing. Did not want to-

His jacket wrapped around her, The warmth from it encompassing her as the scent of warm apples and cinnamon clung to her. Warm, Inviting. She wrapped it around herself clinging to that warmth. That light.

Now there was no light-no scent for her to cling to. And he-he was nowhere where he could reach her.

How long would it be until someone could reach her? How long would it be until she could feel the sun on her skin again or the warmth seeping into her bones.

She didn't know how long she stayed in there. How long she was trapped in that darkness until she heard voices, and heard two people approach.

Her gaze focused, she did not recognize the female, but she had recognized one person. Azriel.

"You came for me." She whispered to him as Feyre shifted back into her normal form. No longer wearing the skin of a priestess. Safe. She was safe, and they both had come for her. And it had been that day that her attraction towards the Shadow singer had grown.

It had started innocently enough, a mere crush. An attraction that was easy, safe. She hadn't expected it to go anywhere, had expected it to stay tucked away in her fantasies, expected it to stay friendly between them with a few exchanged looks and brushing of the fingers here and there. She had never expected it to escalate the way it had. Had never wanted to hurt anyone.

It had been easier to imagine that her attraction to someone wouldn't hurt anyone when Lucien wasn't around to remind her. When she couldn't remember that day that he had ran to her to check on her, to make sure she was okay after her father's death, the day he had acknowledged what she and Nesta had done. The blood still speckling her hands in evidence. He had been one of the very few people to ever acknowledge what she had did and then he had left again. He always left, and she always let him. Why had she always let him?

And it was during those moments when he was gone, where she could not feel his presence, his warmth that she could keep on pretending. Pretending that she was fine, pretending that she could have a relationship with someone outside of a mating bond, pretend that she could fit into the Night Court like her sisters had. And for the most part, she had accomplished it, even if a part of her still felt that there was something missing. Even if her sisters didn’t include her in everything. Even if the court treated her like she was no more than a child to be coddled and protected. It was still better than having nothing at all. Better than taking the plunge into deep waters where there was no guarantee that someone would catch her.

She thought about that the night of solstisce, remembering the look of pain and longing in Lucien’s face deeper than she had ever seen it run. But they both had their lives. Had not seen each other in months except for rare occasions. She hadn’t known how to explain the maelstrom that was her feelings, how she got up at the dawn each morning wanting nothing more than to feel the heat on her skin. To feel the light the drove the shadows away from her mind. How despite the fact that she was angry at him, how sometimes she didn’t want him around because he did not fit into this place, this part of her life, a small piece of her still missed him, even when the thought of falling for someone easier, who fit into this life was also enticing.

It was those emotions that drove her actions that night. She was on edge though she did not show it. Her mind swirling around her, not only for her desire for Azriel, but also the parts of the bond that still lingered for Lucien. That look of his still in her damn mind. A part of her wanting to go to him, to talk to him even though parts of her still rebelled against that.

Why should she feel guilty? They were not together. She was a single woman who simply wanted to try having a relationship that wasn’t predestined for her. She shouldn’t have to apologize for it. Or feel bad that Lucien was under the same roof. Or fight with herself if this was right or wrong. Why did she have to do anything when it came to the bond at all?

Frustration had coursed through her that night, she hadn’t been able to sleep with him so close. With the sound of his heart beating in the other room. His scent in that blasted house no matter how far away from him she was. It was as if every part of her fae body was aware of him.

Sighing in frustration, she had grabbed the gift that she had got for Azriel, not wanting to give it to him in front of Lucien in case he had went territorial like she heard some fae males did with their mates. And had went downstairs to put it in with the rest of his gifts so she could avoid any drama that could ensue from it.

She had not expected to see the Shadow Singer down there. Had thought it was a sign that they had both been down there at the exact same moment. Even though she could still hear Lucien’s heart beating upstairs, could still feel his gaze upon her. She should not feel guilty about this attraction-She shouldn’t-

And mating bond or not, she could have this. She could have this single moment in the dark, could gaze upon the beauty of the necklace that Azriel has gifted for her, could enjoy the feel of his hands brushing against her neck, even though his hands weren’t the only ones she had envisioned brushing against her throat, and she could have this kiss. Even if the bond rebelled against it and something deep within her felt as if it were a mistake. Wasn’t she entitled to chose her own path? Even if she felt as if it were a mistake later, shouldn’t she be allowed to make them?

Had Lucien not also had past relations with people? If the rumors of him being a rake were any indication, perhaps she was not the only female he had an attraction to. After all Vassa was beautiful. And Lucien had been within her company for years now. Though she had not scented any traces of the female on Lucien’s flesh. Nothing to indicate that they were merely more than friends. It still didn't mean that there couldn't be something between them, But-

She didn’t want to think about it, not as she gave Azriel the permission he wanted, not as she awaited the brush of his lips upon her own, she closed her eyes. Hoping that being in the moment would help her, Azriel was handsome, attractive, and attentive. He got along with her family and he fit so why were their still flashes of Lu-

“This was a mistake.” Azriel said, sending her back to reality.

A mistake? Had she read the signs wrong? Or had he just been thinking about the male upstairs and how Elain had just put him in a vicarious position? Lucien-she had just-

“I’m sorry.” She told Azriel. Mistake. Had he really just called this a mistake?

He had told her not to apologize as he vanished away. She couldn’t help it then, the tears that had fallen. The sting of rejection, and the feel of guilt as she let out a frustrated growl, unclasping the damned necklace from her throat, her mind swirling with every emotion she could possibly feel as she checked the necklace into the pile.

He has given her signs- he had felt an attraction to her too. And now-now he cared about this bond between her and Lucien. Now he wanted to do the “right” thing. She rubbed her hands to her face. wiped away her tears. Her mind going back to Greyson. Back to how he had down the same thing.

She would not let anyone hurt her like that again, would not weep over another male. If he wanted to think she belonged to another male, if he didn’t want to kiss her because of it, then fine. Let him think that.

Elain raced upstairs, ignoring the tug of the bond.That gods damned heartbeat as she shut the door on everything and went to sleep, ignoring how the gods damned universe kept trying to pull her to him. As she let herself be lolled into a dreamless sleep, Trying not to let any trace of guilt consume her even though her mind raced with thoughts of it.

She hadn’t known what to she expected when she gave Azriel back the necklace, but one thing she had not expected was the fact that he had given it to someone else. He had given it to the preistess. Had not cared how it might have made her feel to see him give it back to someone else. Sure, she had given it back. But to give it to someone else-that he had done so easily without even a second thought.

Rage and shame washed through her, as she glanced back at the priestess. She was now getting up for her seat, her gaze still on Azriel. Hurt and a hint of fury behind those teal eyes of hers as her hands went to her throat unclasping the necklace from around her throat as she slapped it into Azriel's hand, glaring at him as she walked past him, Azriel whispering words to her that were too soft for Elain's ears to detect, as the priestess brushed past him, Emerie and Mor following him as the latter sent him a glare that sent shivers down Elain's spine.

Azriel's jaw clenched, his eyes flickering down to the necklace as he pocketed it, his eyes catching hers briefly as some anger festered up within her. Had he thought neither of them would find out? Perhaps he had, after all it wasn't as if she had ever met the priestess. Knew that the female had resided in the library and had only came outside of it for special occasions. Had he been sharing those same touches and glances with the female as well, and did Azriel even care that he had potentially hurt them both? Or had he just not thought his actions through? She didn't know which would have been worse for her on this occasion, Azriel doing it maliciously or out of incompetence.

Her lips pursed, as she ripped her gaze away from the male, they had not shared any lingering looks since that night, had his rejection came because he had started to have feelings for someone else? She herself had not really felt the same level of attraction since that night, had kept things cordial and polite between the two of them whenever she could.

Shockingly she had not missed his absence, her thoughts of him had turned few and far between, sure she had missed him at times, but she had not missed him nearly as much as she thought she would.

Not in the same ways she had missed the male sitting beside her. missing Azriel was brief, a feeling that did not linger for too long, but missing Lucien. Missing him still lingered, no matter how much she did not want it too.

She turned towards him, catching his eyes briefly as he observed the same scene as she did, that hurt she had seen from earlier still there, still lingering as she opened her mouth to explain, to let her lips pour out the words that she should have said to him, the explanations she should have given. Her lips parted, the words cloistered on her tongue as Feyre's voice floated over to her on a phantom wind.

"I could really use a drink, what about you? You look like you could use one as well." She asked Lucien, a hint of a smile tugged at Lucien's lips as envy gnarled at Elain's gut.

It had always been this way between her sister and Lucien. Regardless of what they had endured in their past, she had a way of pulling sides out of Lucien that Elain herself had rarely seen. With Feyre he was always more easy going, sure they had their snipes and arguments, but sometimes she wished he was that at ease with her as well.

"After the week i've had, I wouldn't oppose to one. After all where better to drink than at a mating ceremony with an open bar?"

A smile bloomed on Feyre's face as she rose to her feet,

"I like the way you think."

"Just don't get so drunk on fae wine that you attempt to paint me again." Lucien teased as Feyre groaned.

"That was one time and I was a human who couldn't hold her liquor."

His eyebrows rose, "Funny. I thought you couldn't hold it now."

Feyre pointed her finger at Lucien, grinning from ear to ear,

"I'll show you who is more capable of holding their liquor." She challenged him as she handed Nyx over to Rhys,

"His bottles are stored away in the fridge, and I produced enough milk for the night that you should be able to get by on it." Feyre told Rhys daring him to argue as Lucien rose, Feyre looping her arm through his s she told,

"Now how about telling me about that week?"

Before she could say anything, Feryre had already guided Lucien away, his eyes briefly catching hers, before he turned his attention back to Feyre, the two engaging in hushed conversation as she watched him walk away once more.

She slumped in her chair once more, exhaustion tugging at her as she felt Rhys's gaze focus on Lucien and Feyre before his focus shifted to her, she wondered if he had also observed the spectacle that had happened before the ceremony had commenced. Something in his gaze told her that he had.

"Is everything alright?" He asked as Elain sighed, the last thing she wanted to do was talk about this.

"It's nothing I can't handle." She assured him as he gave her a knowing look.

"Are you sure? Because if you're not I can offer-"

"I don't need your assistance." Elain answered sharply making Rhys's eyebrows rise.

And she didn't. She could handle her own affairs, she didn't need him to interfere with them, or tell Feyre about them so she could also interfere.

She drew a deep breath into her lungs, taking in the warm summer air, as she tried to center herself. She needed to clear her mind. This was her sisters mating ceremony and the last thing she needed to do was think about her love life or lack there of if tonight was any indication.

Rhys stared ahead, contemplating something as he stared down at Nyx. a smile crossing his face. as he glanced between him and Elain,

"Was it about what happened during solstice?" He asked as her head jerked in his direction, eyes widening.

"How-"

"I need to show you something-and you might be mad at me after I show you, but I think-I think it might help if you knew. If you went into this with all the information."

Her eyebrows drew up, confusion settling within her as Rhys offered his hand.

She took it, opening her mind to him as memories passed between the two of them, realization sinking into her, a fire deep within her setting itself alight as her nostrils flared.

"Elain-"

"I think I need a drink." She told him, dropping his hand as if he had scolded her as she made her way to the reception. with a new sense of purpose.

****************************************************************

Music swept over the reception area, chaotic in its melody as lights strung up across the room, merriment and cheer circling around her, even when she felt like a storm cloud preparing to rain down on the parade.

Her eyes scanned the room, spotting him at the corner, his usual spot when he wanted to avoid people, his eyes scanning the room as she made her way over to him, her fury still swelling inside of her, her rage dancing on the tip of her tongue.

"Elain?" Azriel greeted her as she crossed her arms over her chest. letting her rage shone in her golden brown eyes.

She had always tried to quench it, to stifle that rage so she could be more palatable to people. She was done with that, done with giving a shit about sparing others feelings. Especially when they had not given consideration to her own.

"I'm surprised that you even remember my name, at first I thought you were going to refer to me as the third."

His eyebrows furrowed, confusion sweeping over him as Elain continued,

"What? You don't know what I'm upset about? I thought mates were supposed to know things about their mates. That's what you think I am, right? Your mate? Or so you think because in what universe would I, the third sister, not be given to you?"

"Elain-"

"I'm not an object. I don't belong to anyone. And I certainly don't need anyone to decide who is and is not worthy of me. That's my decision-not yours. And I certainly don't need to be fought over as if I'm little more than property to be obtained or a child to be fought over. I deserve better than that. I deserve a mature relationship where I can be seen as an equal. I don't want to be put on a pedestal where I have to adhere to everyone's unrealistic expectations of me nor do I want to be in a partnership where I am constantly protected and thought incapable of defending myself. Those are the things I want-The things i need, and after what I witnessed-I know you're not the male who can give me those things, at least not in the ways that I need."

"Are you going to lecture Lucien about this or just me? The blood duel is Autumn court tradition after all, and I don't see how he can be a male that can satisfy your needs either."

Rage licked up her spine, she tempered down her rage, the animalistic need to defend Lucien, she could do this without resorting to the nature the bond wanted her to adhere to. She was a lady, and she had been taught how to reject a male, no matter how infuriating they had become.

"First of all, what I chose to do with Lucien is my business and my business alone, so whatever issues you have with him if it pertains to me, stops right here and right now. Leave me out of it. And second, if either of you invoked a blood duel over me, I wouldn't chose either of you, because I would never want someone to lose their life over me. And yet when Rhys even suggested it, you didn't say anything about how I would never want that or how you would never hurt me in that way, you just said you would defeat Lucien without any effort. As if I would ever want anyone harmed-as if I would want h-"

She stopped, realization so potent that it shocked her coursing through her as if it were ice water in her veins.

"Go ahead and say it." Azriel countered as she meet his eyes, steel in her gaze,

"As if I would ever want him harmed."

Silence rang out around them, the silence damn near deafening, a beginning and an ending.

She glanced over across the dance floor, to the priestess that was still here, on the dance floor surrounded by Emerie, Mor, and Nesta.

"Why did you give her the necklace?" She asked, changing the subject as Azriel blinked.

"Elain-"

"Please. I just-I just need you to answer the question. I don't want excuses. I don't want lies. I just-I just want the truth. Do you-like her?"

Azriel glanced at the priestess, his own emotions swirling in those eyes, more emotion than she had ever seen him make. Even when it came to her.

She let out a deep breath, staring at the priestess, and it was as if she knew, right there and then, what this female could be to him. What she probably was and why the necklace had ended up with her, it had never truly belonged to Elain to begin with. At least, not truly.

"You should go to her. I think-I think she is who you should be talking to right now."

"What about you?" He asked as her eyes scanned the crowded room , finding who she was looking for in an instant. As if her soul had always recognized where to find his.

"I think I also have someone who I need to talk to. Someone I've been needing to talk to for quite awhile."

Azriel nodded, as he walked past her towards the priestess. His own path, one that he needed to follow. And now it was time for her to follow her own.

Taking a deep breath, her eyes scanned the room, noticing that Lucien was no longer at the bar with Feyre and Mor. Her eyes scanned the room for him, not noticing him at all as she made her way over to Feyre, her and Mor laughing about something as Mor smiled at her, grinning from ear to ear.

"Elain! Come join us!" Mor encouraged her as Elain took a shot from the bar, shooting it back.

"Do you know where Lucien went?" Elain asked her, as Feyre looked at her in surprise.

"The last time I checked he was going back into the house. I didn't really ask what he was going inside for, but if i had to wager, it was probably for a moment alone. Why is something wrong?"

"I-I just need to talk to him. I'll see you two back at home."

Before they could say anything, Elain wandered past all the guest, giving polite greetings to everyone as she wandered into the house, wandered until she stopped in front of a familiar door, one that she had stepped through that fateful day where she had seen him again after they had been separated for so long, feeling his presence behind that door, aa she gathered the last of her courage and stepped through it to the fate that was awaiting her inside.

to be continued.....

@elucienweekofficial

[starredforlife]

okay i made another quiz but this time it’s which monster you’ll get to hook up with. reblog with your result!!

[aragima]

is it just me or did the second question have anybody else like

[truefangirlheart]

[lady-viccy]

lmao the whiplash

also giant sea monster

[jominusjo]

Uh.. Mummy?

That’s honestly a new one for me

[void-things]

I got vampire, which tracks because I’ve never been beating the allegations of wanting to be a blood doll.

[darklove9314-blog]

Blood Like Fire: An Elucien Fanfic

Hello Everyone and Welcome to Day 2 of Elucien week!!!! Thank you all for reading!!!

Prompt: Feral/Revival (Prompts chosen to revive: Teach Me to Be Fae/Calanmai)

Synopsis: In an attempt to connect with her fae nature, Elain participates in Calanmai.

Warning: If you aren’t into breeding kinks and possessive and jealous Elucien, then this may not be the fic for you.

The sunset blazed a fiery orange the blue, pink, and purple hues swirling within it as it settled before her eyes as she kept her assessing gaze on the horizon, on the world beyond the window she was gazing out of.

Fae of all shapes and sizes were gathered around the grounds of this massive estate, helping with the decor for the night ahead, the estate buzzing with life after being shrouded in death for so long .Elain couldn’t help the smile that formed on her face, their joy infectious. Inviting in a way she hadn’t felt drawn to in the longest time.

When she had first arrived at the Spring Court, it had been for the mere hope that she could prove to both her sisters that she was capable of taking care of herself, in succeeding on her own missions without their constant assistance, and that had the capability to move mountains just like they could. That even if they loved her, wanted to protect her, she did not need their suffocation. But now-now she could care less if they thought her capable of not. Could care less what they thought she wanted or needed, knowing full well now that she could make those decisions for herself. She always had the capability to, she just needed something to remind her of that.

“Lady?” The lady’s maid that had been assigned to her inquired, a hint of worry laced in her words as Elain’s soft brown eyes snapped to hers, turning from her vigil at the window, and giving the fae female her full attention.

The dress in Soren’s arms was simple, delicate. A sheer flowy thing made from a light weight fabric that would be ideal for the night she was preparing to have. A dress made for a lady of her stature, if only for the night.

Her fingers grazed the delicate fabric. The dress would have been scandalous for any other occasion, hell, if her mother had saw it now she would have had a conniption, but the fae were no mere mortals, and had no such qualms about propriety when it came to tonight.

She undressed, letting her modest muslin gown fall to the floor as Soren aided her into the sheer fabric. The silk gracing her delicate and sensitive skin, clinging to every curve of the body that had became hers, leaving some to the imagination while leaving other things on full display.

Soren glanced at Elain as she assessed her. Moving towards the wardrobe once more as she pulled out a pink corset with flowers embroidered on the fabric. She had to admit she quite liked it, as Soren nodded in approval.

“This should help.” She explained as heat painted Elain’s cheeks.

She turned around, Soren assisting her with the laces of her corset, tight enough to where the swells of her breast were on display but not tight enough where breathing became difficult.

She glanced at her reflection in the mirror. At the female staring back at her and she had to admit, she liked who she saw.

After she was done assessing herself in the mirror, Elain sat down at the vanity, allowing Soren to weave an array of flowers and pearls into her golden brown hair and do her makeup to highlight her softer features as Elain noted that something was missing, halting Soren’s progress by asking,

“Can you fetch the pearl earrings that are in my dresser?”

Soren’s arched eyebrows lifted in question.

“Quite the unusual spot for them, don’t you think?”

A faint blush painted the apples of her cheeks, but she turned her full attention back to her reflection as she replied,

“I was waiting for the right occasion to wear them.”

A knowing smile played on Soren’s lips as she answered,

“Very well then.”

**************************************************************************

Summer had settled around her, the energy of the warm and sensual night crackling around her, sizzling against her skin as her heart pounded in time with the rhythm of the beating drums. Every nerve in her body set alite like the bonfires that roared around her as she took in the scene before her.

Fae gathered in circles, some already in various states of undress, twined around each other as they enjoyed one another’s company. The sight of such lustful endeavors tantalizing her, making her heart pound faster at the openness and vulnerability these fae shared as she found the place she had set out for.

Fae females gathered in a line around the caves opening maw, as if they were ready to be devoured, and from the hushed whispers amongst them, she had no doubt in her mind that was where the trajectory of their thoughts wandered.

Their excitement and joy were evident in their lust-filled gazes, some preparing themselves to meet his assessing stare when he decided to finally approach them.

Their words flowed over to Elain, like a gust on the wind, whispers of the infamous rake, Lucien Vanserra, being chosen for tonight.

Some of them hearing from far and wide about his particular skills in the bedroom and out of it, their words so downright scandalous that even Elain fought the urge to silence them at the disrespect of it. Of how casually they spoke of him as if they had felt his hushed whispers brushing against their skin, had felt the press of his lips and the tangle of limbs their bodies had become during stolen moments, never daring to cross that line. To go further than the brushing of their lips.

They didn't know him at all. At least not the him that they had believed him to be. The sly fox, the notorious rake that they thought they could hold claim to. The mask he had only slipped off for her.

Her nails bit into her palms. at the thought of it. At their romaing hands on her mate's skin, of their soft and plump lips on his feverish flesh- the flesh she had yearned to taste countless times in the dead of night when she could hear his heart beating, knowing that he had probably dreamed of her too. Feeling the soul that had been tied to hers, her temper flaring at the thought of someone else baring witness to him. It almost made her want to-

Her nails dug further into her palms as she fought those irrational urges. She would gain herself no favor amongst the citizens here if she acted as if she were no more then some wild beast that couldn’t control herself, but even as she thought that, those same urges flowed through her, reminding her who she was underneath this pretty facade she presented to everyone.

Mine. Her thoughts repeated. He is mine. And if the fates allowed i, no one would have him except her.

Gathering all her courage before her fear took hold of her, she gathered her skirts, allowing the scent of her arousal to be carried on the wind that blew around them, praying that it flowed over to him, that he could scent her presence. Her desire, and come rushing over to her before anyone else could claim him for their own.

Eyes wandered over to her, envious stares from the preening females who narrowed their gazes as she made her way to the formation, some gaping, murmuring about their misfortune and the unfairness of it all, others giving her aloof stares as if she were no threat to them at all.

What is she doing here? Some of their eyes seemed to say. Judgement cast her way, but she had learned in these past couple of months that others judgement should not deter her from obtaining what she wanted. She finally knew what she wanted, who she wanted, and she would be damned if she would let anyone take him from her.

Falling to the back of the line, so she would not have to deal with their assessing and judgmental stares, Elain took her position next to a tall, elegant female with short black hair and a hint of the sea during the summer on her scent as the female cast her gray eyes to the side, observing Elain as she gave a slight shrug, as if her presence was not intimidating in the slightest, as if Elain herself held no threat. Good. Elain loved it when she was underestimated.

"The Lord is quite handsome, Is he not?" She inquired as Elain tempered down her rage. She was trying to goad her, wicked as it may seem, but she did not know Elain like she knew herself.

"He is." She answered, flashing her a sickly sweet smile that was edged in the most poisoned of sincerity.

The drums picked up the pace, a few cheers sounding from the forest as Elain ripped her attention from the fae female, the bond singing in answer as it could sense his presence even before she could.

A servant showed up, wine glasses clicking on the silver of the tray they were carrying as each female took the drink with a giggle of delight, a few cheers ringing in the air around them as they downed their glasses in one fail swoop.

Elain's eyebrows rose in question, the female at her side looking at her smugly,

"First Calanmai, I take it?"

She bit her tongue, remembering that she was not as sharp tongued as her sister, or as blunt as her other sister, as she tempered her embarrassment at her inexperience.

The fae in this court had been raised around this ritual, had thought about it as second nature, one of their many traditions, and had probably been properly and thoroughly fucked in ways that Elain herself could not ever imagine, but she had not let her lack of experience dissuade her from coming. Not when he had been the one who had volunteered to take the mantle up tonight.

So she only nodded, holding her tongue on the sharpness of her retort as the female gave her a mocking smile, satisfied at her slight win before taking the glass of wine before her from the servant as Elain took one of her own.

"What is it?" She asked as the female glanced at her with lowered brows, a chuckle escaping her lips.

"It's an aphrodisiac. All of us are gifted one but since it's Calanmai and we volunteered to be up here, well, they make sure ours makes us feel extra good, makes sure that we could feel everything that happens to us tonight, whether we're selected by him or not, but if we are-"

She let the words hang between them, as a fierce blush painted her cheeks feeling it spread to her chest like a rose blossoming at the first hint of Spring. The female snickered, sipping her wine, as the effects of it took hold of her. A smile spreading across her face.

Elain glanced down at the drink, watching the glass sparkle before her, temptation laid out before her very eyes as she contemplated her decision. She had come for him, had not wanted him to be alone tonight no matter what the outcome was, but she had not expected this. Had not even given herself a moment to even consider it a possibility.

Could she give up control completely? Give into her desires so thoroughly that no other night could potentially reach the feeling of this one?

It was her choice, her decision, and no one else could make it besides her. She felt the cold press of the glass between her lips as she rested them there, the fae female watching her with weariness as she took a tentative sip. The flavors bursting on her tongue as she felt every nerve of her body come to life, an earthy taste on her tongue as if she could taste the ground underneath her feet, as if she were one with it as she felt the sultry and delectable wine course through her body like fire.

The fae female smiled, downing the rest of her own drink in solidarity as Elain's flush deepened, the heat surrounding her burning hotter and hotter as she felt every nerve in her body let loose responding to the effects of the wine, her core throbbing with the need to satisfy the pleasure she had felt ever since she had first laid eyes on him.

She swore she saw a few of the patrons eyes fixate on her, their own gazes of desire following her movements, tracking them as she swore she saw one of the fae males lick his lips in anticipation , wanting a taste of something that would never be his.

Elain averted her gaze, the beat of the drums getting louder, the roar of the fire burning brighter as the cheers rose from the gathered crowd.

The world before her shifted underneath her feet, the force of his power, of his mere presence flowing through her as her eyes found his within the crowd.

A white stag was slung over his shoulder, his muscles rippling underneaht it as he presented the stag to the waiting crowd that had gathered before him, cheers ringing out at the success of his mission as he lifted his face up to the pale moonlight, letting it shone over him.

Power. Lucien had became pure power. And the sight of it threatened to bring her to her knees.

She felt the bond call to him, luring him in as if it were a sirens song as he bathed off in the river. It should have disturbed her, should have done anything except make her core throb for him and her heart pick up its pace.

The female beside her straightened, adjusting the straps of her lilac gown as they rested upon her shoulders. Elain bared her teeth at the gesture, but stayed silent as his gaze finally met hers.

He kept her rooted there,as if she were a tree and he was the foundation she decided to take root in, her side of the bond stroking his own, a lovers cress as the giggles of the other females surrounded them.

Lucien stalked over to the group of them, the others giving him a few suggestive and sultry stares as if baring themselves to him, but his focus, that hunger that lied beneath his gaze, remained solely on her.

Their hearts beat as one, a bridge between their two souls, a thread of life that flowed on one mingled breath. Her feelings rushed out of her as if they were the rolling river that surrounded them and she had been carried off by the steadiness of it stream. All there was was him. Only him. And for once, the idea of it did not frighten her.

She let go, allowing herself to hear the heartbeat she had been terrified to hear for so long, his heart a thunderous beat as he stalked over to her, looking every bit of the part of The Hunter as The High Lord of Spring had warned her he would be.

"Mine." He growled, as his hand reached towards her to caress her face, to draw her in so their bodies could merge as one, she had never felt so laid bare.

Not here. She reminded herself. It had been his one request, and she had promised to honor it.

He did not want to go to that cave, had not wanted to taint this experience of this moment with the vile memory of that monster who had dared to harm him.

She bared her teeth at the thought, at the fact that someone had harmed her mate so thoroughly that he still had nightmares about it. She hoped the female burned in the deepest pits of hell, suffering every moment for the pain she had imposed not only on her, her mate, and her sisters, but on others as well.

Lucien went to close the distance between their mouths as a slight panic set in, if his mouth landed on her own then she would be lost in the sensation of it, tempted to never leave here and even let him fuck her in front of all these people, not caring who bared witness, but she held onto that promise, to the one thing that Lucien had requested as her brown eyes flickered to his, whispering,

"I am yours, my lord, if you can capture me." Shoving him slightly before she took off into the woods, praying to The Mother that he followed.

**************************************************************************

Her treacherous heart pounded in her chest as Elain ran through the forest of the Spring Court, the woods that had once frightened her now familiar and exhilarating as she picked up her pace, The bond tugging at her tightly, a taunting and teasing thing, as if it could pull her back to him, reminding her of who followed her, of who he was to her.

The wine she had consumed earlier making her arousal imminent, her skin flushed. She wanted him, craved him as that feral sense of need coursed through her. That Gods damned faerie wine. She only had to make it to the clearing before she gave in, only a couple more paces before-

She heard him behind her, the quickening pace of The Hunter, skilled and trained as he was ready to close in on his prey as she felt his hand brush against her, causing her to yelp.

He tugged her to him, his eyes conveying every emotion and thought that courses through him, ready to take her, to feast on her until the only name she screamed was his own-

“Caught you.” He muttered, his fingers lightly tracing the line of her jaw, making her shiver at his touch. Mother above. If this was how she reacted to just the slightest touch of his fingers-

She shook those thoughts from her mind, she would not lose her objective in the haze of lust that clouded her mind, even when her mate was touching her face, those eyes drowning in the haze of his own temptation. Think. She had to think.

“Did you now?” She breathed.

Her recent training kicked in as she swept his legs out from under him, throwing the full weight of her body onto him so they both crashed to the forest floor, pinning him with the full weight of her own body as she grasped his wrist and pinned them firmly above his head.

She knew she couldn’t keep Lucien like that for long. He was a trained and skilled hunter. His body now full of the rawest form of magic known to faekind, but when he glanced up at her, a wicked gleam shone in Lucien’s eye.

“My maiden loves to play games. I see.” A shiver rushing up her spine at his words. That voice. The feeling of him underneath her as her pussy throbbed for him. From that gleam in his eyes he could sense it too.

“Only when they’re with you.” She admitted, causing him to cock his head to the side in observance.

“Then tell me my sweet maiden…” She gasped as his hands broke free of her hold and he pressed her firmly to his hardened length, his other hand cupping her ass, to sex as she heated at that touch. “Do you taste as exquisitely as you feel?”

Her head eddied. Her desire for him damn near tangable as she leaned forward so her breast were pressed firmly against the confides of his muscular chest, her mouth mere inches from his own as she whispered,

“Why don’t you find out?”

His teeth flashed in a wicked grin, making her center feel molten as he flipped them around so she was sprawled out underneath him, catching her by surprise. Her heart beating as rapidly as a hummingbird’s wings as his hand reached out for her, caressing her jaw.

He was so gentle. So gentle and delicate as his hand traveled down the exposed flesh of her neck and chest. Her skin heating at the gentleness of that touch. As if she were a goddess and he was worshipping at her alter.

His wickedly clever fingers pulling at the stays of her corset, taking his time with her, her body taut with need for him as her hands roamed up the confides of his chest.

“Lucien.” She breathed as his gaze met hers. Her corset now open as her skirt had been racked up in their struggle for dominance.

“Run.” He breathed as her eyes widened, confusion coursing through her as Lucien stood up, towering over her.

Oh. Oh. She thought. Another part of their game. The chase that had always existed between them, reigniting, and this time-this time she knew he wouldn’t be gentle if he caught her.

She took off racing towards the glen, breaking through the trees. To the place where her and Lucien had roamed. A place where Lucien had bared his soul to her, where he had showed her the depths of his power, the sunlight that had manifested in the palms of his hands, the terror in his gaze when he saw it fully form, terror of that power within him or what she thought about it, she did not know, but she had reached for his hands, cupping hers in his as the sunshine flowed to her palm, a smile forming on her face at the power, the brilliance of it and the power he had shielded from everyone but those he trusted the most.

Her heart had strained then at the vulnerability of the moment. At the trust he had shown her, she had looked at him at that moment, and had started to slowly fall in love with him. This place, this harmonious, beautiful place had became theirs. With its crocuses, snowdrops, and bluebells. A place of the purest form of beauty where they hid from all the cruelty of the world. And the place where she had decided she wanted to give herself fully to him.

Elain stopped in the middle of the glen, her heart racing in time with the beating of his own as his gaze halted on her. assessing, his metal eye whirling, his head tilting to glance at her pondering why she had halted.

She took a tentative step forward, her bare feet striding in the grass, ticking the soles of them.

He stood there. The hunger still evident in his gaze, the want and desire and-

She halted, her gaze focusing solely on him, of the salt, and the wind, and the air around them, as she strode over to him, the straps of her dress slipping, exposing her bare shoulders to him, letting the moonlight glisten off her precipitated skin, the breeze ruffling her hair and no doubt carrying her scent over to him.

Her eyes locked on him, Lucien stood prenatally still, as if determining if he were in a state of dream or wake, as she gathered the fabric of her dress and racked the dress up her thighs, baring herself for him, desperately craving the heat of his touch on her naked flesh. A soft growl emulated from Lucien's lips as he slowly approached.

Her breath quickened, as she laid on the bed of flowers and grass surrounding them, letting the blades of grass tickle her back as the bluebells, snowdrops, and crocuses lined up with her vision, the colors swirling around her as she parted herself for him, the moonlight gleaming off the wetness of her sex, leaving it bare for his taking.

She had never felt so exposed, so vulnerable, and bare, and alive as she had in this moment. Her toes curled as her fingers found where she ached desperately for him, her mind wondering why he had started to move at a cautious pace as if one misstep from him would scare her off.

She part her legs further, letting the scent of her desire drift over to him, as her eyes flickered to him, his hands going to the strays of his leathers moving so torturously slow that she wondered if this was some form of punishment for denying herself of her desire for so long as she inserted one of her fingers into her center, a moan drifting from her parted lips as whatever carefully cultivated restraint he had left broke lose inside of him.

He now stood before her, the pale moonlight shining off his glorious body as her breath hitched at the sight of it, her eyes, eddied and lustful as they wandered down to his generous length. Mother above.

She inserted another finger within herself, curling them deep inside of her, stretching herself out so she could accommodate the full force of his length. She had never-

Her mouth watered, sweat beading her face as she pushed herself up on her other arm, hoping he received her clear cut message within her gaze.

Elain needed this, needed him.

"Lucien." She breathed his name, unsure if he could still hear her past the full force of the land's magic. Past the hunter within. "Lucien, I need-"

She yelped, taken by surprise as if his name on her lips had ignited a fire within him and now all there was was her.

Lucien knelt down, pulling her center towards him, her back arching off the ground and her ass lifting up into the air, as he hooked her legs over his massive shoulders, lining his mouth up with her center, her fingers long since forgotten as he breathed in her scent,

"Mine." He growled.

"All yours." She agreed, breathless, "Lucien, I am all-"

Her word cut off as a shattered cry fell from her lips, his tongues darting out at her center, dipping his tongue into her so he could consume every drop of evidence of her desire for him. A strangled cry falling from her lips a the intensity of the pleasure she had denied herself of for so long.

Gods It felt- Mother above.

He feasted upon her, starving for any drop she offered up to him, her head lolling back as she let those cries drift off in the night, not caring who heard or might happen upon them, let them watch as her mate took her in all the ways they both had dreamed of.

She rode his mouth, using the muscles in her core to meet the thrust of that clever and cunning tongue, his fingers moving in tandem with his mouth as she rode them too. A dark chuckle falling from her mate's mouth as he paused in his ministrations, his fevered gaze focusing on hers.

"Why? Why did you stop?"

Her chest heaved, the peaks of her breast pebbling, his gaze flickering towards them as he laid her gently on the floor, plunging three fingers into her desperate and starved sex as a gasp fell from her lips.

She had never-had never dared go further than two fingers as he plunged them deep within her, his hot and heated mouth latching onto her breast as a sob fell from her lips. her hands plunging into the silky strands of his molten wine hair, tugging, refusing to remain gentle with him when tonight had not been for love making, tonight was the night she embraced her fae nature, and let him fuck her in ways that only her wildest dreams could conjure.

She exposed her throat to him, leaving it bare for the taking as she let the moonlight glisten off the pearls that rested upon her ears, meeting that fire that had always been within his gaze as he rasped,

"You wore them."

She rose her chin in challenge, a sly smile falling from her lips. She knew exactly what she had been doing with the earrings, how the sight of them would thrill him, and eddy his mind with the fiercest of desires.

"They're mine. Are they not?"

He chuckled in response, his teeth nipping at the arches of her ears as she gasped, his mouth lingering there as he whispered,

"I am going to fuck you so thoroughly that you will forget any males' cock that existed before my own. You are my mate, and no other cock will satisfy your cunt besides mine."

A thrill rushed through her as his teeth sank into the flesh of her throat, a gasp falling from her lips as he claimed her with that bite. Territorial, Demanding. making her pussy clench around his fingers in response.

"You like that thought don't you?" He inquired, his mouth still pressed to the tender flesh of her throat, his tongue lapping at his lover's bite on her throat as he added a fourth finger, sweeping it over her folds, full. She was so deliciously full that she couldn't recall a pleasure greater than this as she rode those fingers, seeking out her pleasure.

"You like the thought of me claiming you like this, of me rutting into that perfect sex of yours as if we were no better than the animals that surround us. ." A laugh fell from his mouth as he sucked on the tender flesh of her throat, leaving another claiming mark there as he rasped, "Perhaps I should claim you in more ways then one tonight."

Her eyes widened at him, a question forming in his mind as his fingers splayed over her abdomen as if-

"Would you like that, mate?" He inquired, her heart pounding at the thought, exhilaration coursing through her as instinct took over, her lips latching onto his own, sucking his lower lip as she bit it with her teeth, rolling her hips against his, earning a growl of pleasure from him.

He laid her out before him once more, observing her body on display before him, his fingers moving within her cunt, as she cried out for him,

"You love the thought of it, don't you? Of me filling you up to the brim, of my seed taking root so deep within you that there is no doubt between us that you will bare my child. Our child. Evidence of your deepest desire for all of Prythian to see, of what you have longed for for so long."

She rode his fingers, letting her face bare the truth before him, letting the bond send the mental image of her swollen abdomen to him, the vision that she had kept to herself, tucked into the back of her mind, the one she had not dared share with him until this moment as he lifted her, a growl ripping from his throat as she came apart on his fingers. Her first orgasm coursing through her as her back bowed, riding those fingers as he grinned,

"That's it, Mate. Come on my fingers before you come on my cock."

She broke apart for him, her fingers splaying on his golden chest, as he lifted one of her legs, baring her swollen and glistening sex to him as his heated tongue tasted the fruits of his labor, until he had his fill, his face glistening in the moonlight, his red hair framing it as those flames, focused on her. showing her the Autumn Court male that lingered underneath his flesh.

"Make me yours." She whispered,

He nipped his teeth at the flesh of her thighs, earning a yelp as he licked the evidence of her desire for him from her thighs, leaving no trace behind.

"Proper males always clean up their messes."

The silky strands of his hair, brushed against her abdomen as he licked and sucked every inch of her throbbing center.

"Lucien, please."

His hands gripped her wrist, pinning them above her head until he was fully satisfied, wretching another orgasm from her, before he lifted his mouth from her swollen sex to focus on her. Autumn Court male indeed.

He stared down at her, her chest heaving, his gaze wild, untamed. their breath mingling with one another. a flicker of him inside his gaze.

"Lucien." She breathed. "Mate. Don't-Don't make me wait much longer. I am yours, I have always been yours, as you have always been mine. Don't keep us apart for much longer. Please."

Growling, he flipped them over, so she straddled him, his hands ripping her dress, tearing it from her body as the garment tore in two, rendered useless.

Her breath hitched, his russet and metal eye trained on her as he answered,

"If you want to be fae, mate, then take what you want for yourself."

She fisted his cock, pumping it once, twice, as she did what she was told, and lined his immaculate length up with her center, slowly sinking onto his cock, as it stretched her, her gasp falling from her lips as he grasped her hips, assisting her with taking his enormous length, stretching her out until she was in the sweetest form of pleasure, taking him to the hilt.

Full. She had never felt so full, and his cock-it had been made for her, as she had been made for him. She grasped his balls with her hand, stroking him as she rode him with abandon, those trecherous hands of his guiding her hips, showing her the ways to make him come undone underneath her.

Powerful. She had never felt more powerful then when he was underneath.

"Look at you, my perfect, extraordinary mate, look how well you ride my cock, as if you've been doing it for centuries."

She snarled, crashing her lips to his, their tongues fighting for dominance, as he sat up, aligning them so that they were now chest to chest, seeking out each others pleasure as she bounced on his cock, her back arching as she threw her head back, her hair brushing against her back as his mouth found the peaks of her nipples, sucking them as his thumb stroked her clit.

Her release barreled towards her, threatening to throw her off the edge as she gasped,

"Lucien-Lucien, I want-"

He bit her throat, his, delectable, punishing thrust rutting through her as her orgasm rocked through her, white dancing along the edges of her vision as she felt his hot seed spurting up deep inside her, filling her so full that it seeped down her thighs, dripping onto the earth beneath them.

Their chest heaved together, the male before her bowing his head and pressing a kiss to her shoulder, to the bites on her neck, the magic satisfied with their offering as he caressed every inch of her.

Mine. The touches said. You are mine, and I am yours.

And as they laid there, bathed in that moonlight, she couldn't help but agree.

@elucienweekofficial

[kurzler]

a quick psa to anyone recently getting into greek mythology and is a victim of tumblr and/or tiktok misconceptions:

-there is no shame in being introduced to mytholgy from something like percy jackson, epic the musical or anything like that, but keep in mind that actual myths are going to be VERY different from modern retellings

-the myth of medusa you probably know (her being a victim of poseidon and being cursed by athena) isn't 100% accurate to GREEK mythology (look up ovid)

-there is no version of persephone's abduction in which persephone willingly stays with hades, that's a tumblr invention (look up homeric hymn to demeter)

-as much as i would like it, no, cerberus' name does not mean "spot" (probably a misunderstanding from this wikipedia article)

-zeus isn't the only god who does terrible things to women, your fav male god probably has done the same

-on that note, your fav greek hero has probably done some heinous shit as well

-gods are more complicated than simply being "god of [insert thing]", many titles overlap between gods and some may even change depending on where they were worshipped

-also, apollo and artemis being the gods of the sun and the moon isn't 100% accurate, their main aspects as deities originally were music and the hunt

-titans and gods aren't two wholly different concepts, titan is just the word used to decribe the generation of gods before the olympians

-hector isn't the villain some people make him out to be

-hephaestus WAS married to aphrodite. they divorced. yes, divorce was a thing in ancient greece. hephaestus' wife is aglaia

-ancient greek society didn't have the same concepts of sexuality that we have now, it's incorrect to describe virgin goddesses like artemis and athena as lesbians, BUT it's also not wholly accurate to describe them as aromantic/asexual, it's more complex than that

-you can never fully understand certain myths if you don't understand the societal context in which they were told

-myths have lots and lots of retellings, there isn't one singular "canon", but we can try to distinguish between older and newer versions and bewteen greek and roman versions

-most of what you know about sparta is probably incorrect

-reading/waching retellings is not a substitute to reading the original myths, read the iliad! read the odyssey! i know they may seem intimidating, but they're much more entertaining than you may think

greek mythology is so complex and interesting, don't go into it with preconcieved notions! try to be open to learn!

[bigandlong]

If you see this on your dashboard, reblog this, NO MATTER WHAT and all your dreams and wishes will come true.

[jae-felidae]

Oh hey! Haven’t seen this in forever! Didn’t reblog it when it came across me before, not gonna skip it this time, I need some good vibes.

[donaweasley]

It’s so beautiful!! 🤩

[spin-the-wheel-polls]

You have became this medieval role, how do you feel about it

you are in the medieval era and you have this role!

How do you feel?

great!! I love this

good!

It's okay

So bad. I hate this

This is similar to my real job!

Results/other

Voting ended onJul 18

[pearlessance]

warnings: +18 mdni, sex worker!fem reader, religious themes/guilt, dubcon (on account of being paid to have sex but reader gives explicit consent multiple times), porn no plot (so spoiler free!), dry humping, heavy petting, nipple sucking, marking, possessive behavior, dirty talk, begging, praise, a little bit of intimidation, size difference, finger sucking, ormund fucks you on a desk, clit stimulation, pussy slapping, unprotected piv, creampie, breeding kink towards the end, might be ooc because this is the first time i've ever written for him, lightly edited! wc: 1.8k

thinking about pious ormund hightower and whore!reader who is so fucking pretty that she immediately becomes this man's kryptonite.

you're first presented to him as a gift. delivered to his bed chamber late one night by some castellan who'd gotten him all wrong, an offer to find common ground.

but ormund isn't an indulgent or lustful man. he honors the seven and resists his impulses. he'll be married one day, after all. he doesn't want to disrespect his future wife by sullying himself before he's even met her.

but you are...gods. the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. and ormund is well traveled, has seen all matter of beautiful women before and has never looked twice.

but the moment he lifts his eyes from the scrolls on his borrowed desk, he feels his resistance waver.

and, yeah. he knows he should send you away. should tell his guards to take you elsewhere, should give you a golden dragon for your troubles and tell you to buy yourself a nice gown or a good meal.

he should do the right thing. the godly thing. but then you come near him smelling of honeysuckle and ambrosia and every godforsaken tempting thing in all the seven kingdoms, and ormund is done for.

at first, you only sit in his lap and kiss his cheeks. and he tells himself it's fine, you know? it's not like you're really doing anything wrong. just worshipping a man you'd been paid to make feel good. and it does make him feel good, your soft lips against his skin.

but then he lets himself touch you.

slow at first. a hand on your thigh—over your dress. albeit a thin barrier of lace and silk, but a barrier still. and then he drags his knuckles down the back of your smooth neck, stroking the sweat-slick hair that clings to your nape.

you thread your own fingers through his curls, mouth drifting lower to lay kisses over his pulse. you're good at what you do, he realizes quickly. because before he can even register what's happening, you're turning fully to staddle his hips and hiking your dress up your legs.

he can feel you, even through his trousers. the heat that emits from between your thighs, the wetness, the desire. it makes him feel dizzy. drunk, even.

you give a tentative roll of your hips over his bulge and his head falls back, knocking lightly against the top of the mahogany chair. it's too much, and he knows it, and there's a thought in the back of his head as you create a delicious rhythm that he might be damned for this.

but he's too far gone now, that iron grip on his control slipping through his fingers like smoke. he can only feel the remnants of it like a thick humidity, can hardly remember those life-long teachings of the faith.

when your fingers unbuckle the iron buttons of his doublet, he lets you. doesn't push you away like he should when you push it over his shoulders and down his strong biceps, either.

you're so soft. tracing his scars with eager hands, still humping his clothed cock like you're the most desperate girl he's ever seen. he tugs roughly at the tie at the back of your dress, the fabric over your chest falling away with little resistance.

his big hands come to cup your breasts, massaging the supple flesh, calloused thumbs stroking over the peaks of your nipples. his mouth waters at the sight of you, bare and free and open, all for him.

his for the taking.

his for the feasting.

ormund leans forward and suckles your tit into his mouth, tongue demanding as it flicks across your nipple. he kisses his way across your sternum to the other, sucking and biting, unable to stop himself from making some sort of claim on you despite being fully away you're not his to claim.

he's not an indulgent man, no. but greedy? well...that's another matter.

your breath is warm against the shell of his ear as you say, "i want you inside me."

he should say no. he knows that.

but then you say, "please, ser."

and gods. what's a man to do? deny a pretty woman? deny the prettiest woman?

ormund doesn't have the strength. not when you beg so beautifully.

"get up," he says.

you do without a moment's hesitation. perfect girl. obedient girl.

ormund stands to his feet and crowds your space until you have to take a step back. one, and then another, and another. he tilts his head and smiles with a wolfish grin until your back hits the edge of the desk.

he sees it there, for a fleeting moment—the fear in your eyes. but you don't have to be afraid, not of him. he's a godly man, don't you know? he would never hurt a woman, let alone one like you.

gently, he lifts his hand to your face and strokes the back of his knuckles over the curve of your cheek. "do you have any idea how beautiful you are?"

the fear subsides, and ormund traces the shape of your sweet mouth with the pad of his thumb.

"if it weren't for coin, would you still want this? and don't lie, girl."

he watches as your pupils dilate. you nod, slowly at first, but then again with more certainty. "yes."

"good." he presses his thumb past your lips, feeling the soft wetness of your tongue and she sharpness of your teeth. you hollow out your cheeks, staring up at him through your lashes the whole time.

a moan escapes him at the sight of you. pretty and sinful and irresistible all the same. he lets you suck his thumb for a few precious moments, committing the feeling of your warm mouth to memory.

but the moment his desire for you grows impossibly more suffocating, he brackets an arm around you and lifts you onto the desk. ormund pushes your shoulders back and pulls your dress up right over the ravens he'd been writing moments before you'd stepped foot into his space, ink likely still drying.

you lift your legs; the heels of your feet hooked right at the edge. ormund gorges himself on the sight of you; bare and spread wide for him, beautiful and womanly and so very wet.

with one hand, the knight undoes his belt. and with the other, he strokes a finger through the seam of your cunt. finds your clit and circles it carefully, delighting in the way your eyes flutter closed and a hum leaves your lips.

his cock is aching now. throbbing in his hand as he pulls it from his breeches and strokes it desperately.

this would be enough to finish him, he knows. a firm grip around the base of his cock and the most mouth-watering sight before him. an interactive display of indulgence.

it should be enough.

and yet it is not.

ormund brings his hand, wet now with your arousal, to his lips. he inhales deeply, taking the scent of you deep into his lungs, before he brings his finger to his mouth and sucks the taste of you off of it.

he makes space for himself between your spread thighs and watches curiously as you prop yourself up on your elbows. "i want to watch it go in," you admit sheepishly.

there's a tone of innocence in your voice that has him trembling with need. it makes him feel...powerful, almost. like you're at his mercy.

and maybe you are.

ormund knows he shouldn't like the feeling, but he does. and he's already gone this far, and so he grips the back of your neck hard and pulls you forward, abdomen curling to get a better view.

he lines himself up at your entrance, coating the tip of his cock in your slick, and then slides in deep.

the thought crosses his mind that you feel like heaven.

tight and wet, a kind of worship in it's own right.

ormund fucks you hard. tugs at your hair and slams his hips against yours with reckless abandon. kisses your cervix with the tip of his big cock, stretching you wide.

he doesn't kiss you, because it's too intimate.

but his lips hover over yours, breathing in your moans, swallowing up your exhalation. ormund thinks you're beautiful as you are, but when your eyes are wide and you're all filled up with him?

gods.

it's something else entirely. makes him throb inside of you, the muscles in his arms flexing as he holds you upright. "you're perfect," he says, and means it. doesn't throw the word around lightly.

but it's true.

ormund circles your clit with his free hand after gathering spit from his own mouth for ease of friction. he smears his saliva over your cunt, slapping his fingers against you slit, twice gently, and then once sharp.

but he soothes the ache quickly, shushing your whining with a steady pressure against your swollen clit.

he spreads his fingers and slides them down, two on each side of his cock that still pistons into your opening. sweat begins to bead along his hairline. "tell me you want me," he murmurs, voice low and thready.

"i want you," you say.

and it satisfies him, but then you keep going and his knees grow weak.

"want you to—to defile me. feels so good. so—so good inside of me, please. don't stop. please don't stop. i want to be your woman. i'll do anything, my lord. anything, please."

there's a part of him that doesn't believe it. ormund tells himself you're being paid to say these things. that it's about the gold and not about him.

but you beg so beautifully and he thinks that yeah, he might want that, too.

might want to keep you at his bedside for his own twisted pleasure. for his own relief. his pet. his plaything.

his woman.

your cunt squeezes tight around him, and your knuckles around the edge of the desk blanch as you hold tight. "oh, gods."

he groans, the sound reverberating deep in his chest, and then empties himself deep inside of you. fills you up and doesn't stop his thrusts. his cock twitches and becomes coated with your release and his.

he doesn't slow his pace until your muscles go slack, until the oversensitivity becomes borderline painful.

carefully, he releases his hold on you and lays you back against the desk, a small smile forming on your pretty face. a look of pure bliss, provided by his touch alone.

ormund gently pulls himself back, and watches as the sticky white mess of his cum spills out of you. he gathers it with his fingers and pushes it back in, thumb stroking lightly over your clit.

it's wrong, and he knows it, but he hopes that it sticks. hopes that one day your belly will be rounded with his baby, and he'll have no choice but to marry you. to raise you up from a girl in a brothel to a lady of his house. a hightower.

ormund hopes he'll get to keep you.

ormund also hopes the gods might forgive him.

[masterlist][AO3]

[15-lizards]

Hotd modern politics

Rhaenyra: starts out as a girlboss capitalist centrist dem but slowly starts to be influenced by her commie girlfriend (not really it's just for the optics)

Daemon: thinks he invented libertarianism. Capitalism was the way of life god intended and that’s why he broke up with his radical commie girlfriend who’s now dating the niece he groomed

Mysaria: the commie girlfriend in question. Would rig a free and fair election tho

Alicent: trad wife who’s been voting republican her whole life because her dad-husband told her to. Socialism is kind of appealing to her and then she gets disgusted with herself for thinking government handouts are okay and repents

Aegon: voted for trump for his economic policies but can’t name one. Says he doesn’t do really politics he just wants to smoke shitty weed and harass women in peace

Aemond: hyper nationalist who got radicalized online. Also randomly a royalist despite living in a democratic system. Lonely because everyone on twitter just wants to bitch about diversity on tv instead of arguing about Nietzsche

Helaena: doesn’t vote but she’s crunchy and spiritual and anti establishment enough that her lefty friends forgive her for this

Corlys: true venture capitalist. Will vote for whoever as long as his stocks and company shares don’t take a hit in the market

Viserys: normie fiscal republican who loves his woke daughter and is fairly reasonable enough that it almost makes you forget his second wife is a teenager

Otto: intellectual republican who pretends to adhere to christian morality just so he can secure the evangelical vote

Larys: opportunist who will just play both sides. has a Peter Thiel technocrat figure he follows around like a eunuch

Cole: weird catholic who is genuinely afraid of going to hell if he votes for an elected official who supports gay marriage. Not even trying to own the libs he's just in active psychosis

Jace: rich liberal kid who plays lacrosse at a boarding school where it’s faux pas to say homophobic slurs

Orwyle: woke king. Currently becoming disillusioned from the democratic establishment. Abortion rights activist

[roguedeer]

Being asexual and racist is embarassing as fuck. Being racist at all is obviously embarassing as fuck but the amount of racism and especially antiblackness i have been seeing from asexuals recently is obscene.

One of the only asexual activists is Yasmin Benoit, a Black woman. She has raised so much awareness for the community. She was the first asexual person to lead Pride in London, she started the #thisiswhatasexuallookslike movement and is THE leading voice for the community.

And you all will celebrate international asexuality day on April 6th but we wouldn't even have that if she hadn't cofounded it.

Edit: why are you all too scared to repost this. Cmon. Be vocal about being against racism

[lesbianlyonelb]

from the hold me close prompts if you're still doing them! "placing a hand on their chest, watching it rise and fall soothingly" with whatever ship comes to mind when you see this prompt! <3

(p.s love your writing sm)

"hold me closer" - prompts for those snuggling in bed

"placing a hand on their chest, watching it rise and fall soothingly"

I did this with Maekar and Janella!

No real warnings? Mentions of pregnancy, but that's it. It's really just fluff

Maekar wakes with a start.

It takes him a minute to come back to himself, lying in the dark and panting, eyes searching every corner for any threat. He swallows once he's regained some semblance of control, once his heart rate slows and breathing evens out. Still, he looks at every corner in case he missed an enemy in his initial panic upon waking.

He hates these fucking nightmares. He hates the sound of screeching metal, of the roar of armies colliding, of his heart beat in his throat as he wonders if this is it, if this is the moment he dies. The screams of the wounded and dying still fill his ears. Maekar bites his tongue. He welcomes the brief bit of pain; it grounds him in the current moment.

Maekar's left arm is asleep. It's heavy, heavier than it should be. When he inhales, he slowly relaxes, a familiar scent soothing him.

Gardenia, citron, and something underneath it unmistakably Janella.

Maekar turns his head. Janella's hair fans out on the pillow behind her. She curls towards him as best she can, which is only so far given her current state. The maesters think the babe will be here within a sennight. Personally, Maekar suspects it might be longer.

Dyanna's pregnancy with Daeron was two weeks longer than the maesters said it would be. Each birth seemed easier after it.

This is Janella's first pregnancy. Their first child.

The thought sends a rather possessive thrill through him despite himself, or perhaps because of himself. Maekar doesn't care which it is. Self-reflection is Baelor's deal, not his.

All Maekar knows is Janella is pregnant by him, wants him, wants to be the mother of his child. No one else. It's all because of him and him alone.

He stares at Janella for a long moment. Moonlight spills between the curtains, a small sliver giving enough light to see her face. She looks almost etheral, peaceful. Motherhood suits her. Even asleep, she almost seems to glow in the way pregnant women supposedly do. He's not a fucking bard, all he knows is what people say.

He reaches out, slowly, carefully. Maekar doesn't want to wake her. She's at the point where it's almost impossible for her to fall asleep because of how uncomfortable she is. He places his hand on her chest, just above her heart.

Her chest rises and falls. Underneath his calloused hands, Maekar swears he can feel her heart beat. He stays still. As she breathes, his hand moves with every inhale and exhale. He watches, eyes occasionally flicking to her face. She shows no signs of stirring. If anything, the minute his hand touches her, Janella almost relaxes even more, brow easing and releasing tension.

Gods. He loves her.

Every time the thought occurs to him, it strikes him a little less hard than it did the first time. Loving after Dyanna was once an impossibility, and now, it creeps upon him so casually.

It's in these moments the feeling nearly doubles him over, nearly hits him as hard as the first time, in the unguarded and serene spaces.

Janella makes a small noise. Maekar freezes. He watches as she shifts. Much to his surprise, she moves closer. She reaches out with her right hand. When she touches him, even though it's merely his side, she relaxes. He watches her drift back under, feels the way her breathing slows underneath his hand.

His own eyes close, and Maekar follows her as he slowly drifts to sleep.

[titi-292]

I totally get it Cregan Stark

[aropride]

please god let chatgpt die out like nfts did. With a fast and graceless fall into irrelevancy

[bladespark]

Like to charge, reblog to cast.

[atwotonedbird]

This spell has a very low hit ratio, so we need a lot of us to do it.

[ask-the-fishdick-deactivated201]

REBLOG IF IT IS OKAY TO COME INTO YOUR INBOX AND SAY THE RANDOMEST SHIT I CAN THINK OF BECAUSE I REALLY WANT TO INTERACT WITH YOU.

[pitviperofdoom]

I try not to fall into the "I never liked their work anyway" ditch when an artist/creator reveals themself to be a terrible person

BUT

a feeling I do have and will stand by is "While I enjoyed their work overall I did have some gripes that I overlooked out of affection and whimsy, but now that my loyalty is gone and my affection tainted there is nothing holding me back from enumerating my many grievances, to which the revelations of the creator's shittiness may or may not provide a new and infuriating context."

[apothe-roses]

COLOR GAME ── .✦

rules: go to pinterest and type in the prompts below. whatever image pops up first is your image!

prompts: color, quote, character, hobby, accessory, song lyric, flower

No pressure tags: @lesbianlyonelb @lauraneedstochill @ripdragonbeans @ewanmitchellcrumbs @summersaints and whoever wants to join!

[beeeeew]

With recently seeing alysanne blackwood in the trailer, oh so that’s my wife ? She’s beautiful..that’s it ,that’s all I’ve got to say … yk what cregan I love you and all but you gotta move!!

#Need that