Hi everyone! We hope you are as excited for Elucien Week 2026 as we are, coming July 16th through the 22nd 𼰠Below, you'll find more info about the event.
2026 Masterlist
2025 Masterlist
2024 Masterlist
Guidelines
Prompts
Friendship Bracelet Exchange
You can find us on Instagram and Twitter as well. Content won't be 100% the same on both platforms, so check the others out!
Please give organizers 24 hours to add content before reposting!
If you have any questions, feel free to reach out!
Thank you so much to everyone who participated in Elucien Week 2026!
Our community's collective love for Elucien and for each other is always such a special event to witness and be a part of! It has been our greatest joy to see all the amazing creations you've been working so hard on!
This year, we received a record breaking number of fics in our AO3 Collection, with 63 total works submitted! We are astounded by and so grateful for this turn out that we wanted to extend a little thank you to all of the authors who helped us achieve this!
Weâve taken a look through all 63 works in this yearâs collection and have sorted them into a quiz that will help you decide which one is perfect for you!
>>>Â Click here to take the quiz!
Once again, thank you to everyone who participated. We had such a fabulous week, and we canât wait to see you again next year from July 18 - 24, 2027!
Helloooo... welcome to a strange little experiment I cooked up for Elucien Week 2026 that doesn't involve Elucien yet, but will. I'll try to get this onto AO3 once I flesh it out a bit more (and get it beta'd) but in the meantime, here is the first short installment. Note, all of this is in Lucien POV.
---
Don't go in the woods at night, ErisâLucienâs eldest brother, and thus, the wisest person he knew, used to tell him when he was a youngling, well after Nanny had tucked him into bed and Mother had given him her gentle, restrained kiss on the forehead, promising him sweet dreams. Eris would steal in not long afterwards. He was already a full grown male by the time Lucien had been born but, being a solid half century younger than his next oldest siblingâthe heir apparent had always seemed to hold a soft spot in particular for Little Lucien, who would always nestle up next to him during these visits and eagerly listen to anything his brother had to say.
(more behind the cut!)
Sometimes, Eris talked about his day. Other times, he asked after Lucien's lessons and provided him with tips and guidance. And always, he told stories. Epic tales of romance and adventure, of discovery and ghosts and things that creep in the night. Lucien's favorites, though, were the mortal tales: stories of the terrifying denizens on the other side of the wall from Spring, who could lure unsuspecting fae into making clever bargains, who feared no other creature alive, who had killed their own gods and were ungovernable by the universe.
Whenever Eris spoke of them, the little boy would listen, enraptured, and would pull his covers up until the only things peeking out were his bright eyes, the top of his bright red mop of hair, and the tips of his pointed ears. As if by hiding from the story, he could hide from the idea of humans too, though even as young as he was, he knew that that didn't make any sense.Â
Most mortals, his brother said with a dramatic flourish of his bejeweled hands, are primitive things, though it's said that once, they had cities to rival our own with buildings of glass that touched the sky, snd flying chariots pulled by naught but lightning that they coaxed from the earth.
What are they like now? The young boy squeaked, picturing the stone and wood huts he'd heard and read about before. The idea that they could have cities? An absolutely ridiculous notion.
Eris fixed him with his stern amber gaze and leaned in slowly, one corner of his mouth pulling into a lopsided smirk. Did you know that they don't have faelights? That they have to rely on fire, or keep warm with peat they cut from the bogs south of the wall? And water, from taps? Oh no. He moved until he was hovering over his littlest brother, looming like some sort of gonger spectre. To get water, the mortals have to dig great holes into the ground to access the water trapped there. It takes dozens of them, working day and night, because they don't have magic to move the earth for them.
Little Lucien gasped. No magic! That WAS primitive.
And they're strong, humans, Eris continued. Not in the way we re, but iron doesn't affect them. In fact, they build great statues of it to commemorate their leaders, and forge it into weapons that they stockpile, in case another great war wages. They even plant holly and ash outside their homes, as decoration.
Lucienâs eyes went as large and round as dinner plates. Iron and holly? In their homes???Â
Who could live like that?! he exclaimed.
Eris offered him a wan smile and shook his head slowly. And this is why little fae boys and girls should mind their manners and the warnings of their mothers and brothers and stay away from the wall. Because you never know what's haunting the other side. Oh, my, what's that noise? Could it be Jurian the Faeslayer?
What?! Lucien asked, quite alarmed and following Erisâ gaze. But his brother merely used the distraction to tickle him instead, and the little boy kicked and shrieked and giggled.
Could a human take on⌠Lucien asked a few minutes later, dropping his voice to a whisper. He beckonwd Eris closer. A martax?
In a group, yes.
What about a High Lord?
It would be significantly harder than a martax, for sure, Eris answered thoughtfully. But if they were very luckyâŚ
What about... Amren?
Amren was the other terror that lurked in the dark: an avenging angel whose bloody sword swung without mercy, and whose fiery wings lit the night sky and drowned the stars. Earlier that year, Bran had told Lucien he saw them in the kennels and Lucien had refused to go in without an armed escort for a month.
Probably not, Eris said, sagely shaking his shaggy head. Definitely not one on one, unless it was Jurian, their hero, but even he would struggle. He was the mightiest and cleverest of them all, you know.Â
Lucien did, and nodded.Â
They say he's still aliveâand that one day, he'll come back again, when the humans need him most, his brother mused. Cauldron boil us all if he does.
With a squeal, Lucien dove fully under the covers. There were no Amrens or Jurians or any other humans there. And once Eris had checked under his bed and closet and assured him they weren't there either, he finally laid his little head down on the pillow and went to sleep.
The day was warm, the sun shining, making her warm brown hair look as if streaks of blonde flowed through it. Elain nelt by her garden, no gloves to be seen. She loved the feel of the dirt on her hands. Thoughts of her mate filled her mind. That made her pause, her hands stalled over the small hole she had dug. Elain didn't think she would ever get used to this... this new life. The night court is lovely, a truly beautiful place. But this isn't the life she would have chosen for herself. She wouldn't have chosen to have a mate. She would instead have taken a husband. Tears threatened to spill, angry tears at how her life ended up.
Elain wiped at her eyes, smudging dirt on her cheeks. Her fae hearing picked up footsteps. She hoped it was Azriel, then she wouldn't have to say anything unless she chose to. But no such luck. The bond seemed glow brighter at his presence, taking Elains' breath away.
"Hello Elain." Said Lucien.
Elain stood wiping the grass and dirt off her pale pink skirt. "Lucien... when did you get back?"
Lucien reached up and rubbed the back of his head "2 days ago."
She didn't know why that made her sad. Elain knew he didn't owe her anything, especially with the way she has treated him... but her heart still ached. "And how was the spring court?"
Lucien smiled then "better, Tamlin seems to be coming back to his old self, thank the mother."
Elain smiled and nodded. She looked in his eyes then, and that was a mistake. Her breath caught in her throat. She swallowed as she saw Lucien lift his hand towards her face. Elain didn't dare move. He hadn't touched her since that horrible day months and months ago.
When his skin made contact, fire erupted in her belly. A small gasp forced its way out.
Summary: Elain makes the best of her life in the Night Court, and yet, she still finds herself longing to escape into dreams about a certain mate she has barely even spoken to.
But when her dreams begin to suggest something sinister at play, and Lucien doesnât arrive at his weekly meeting in Velaris, Elain finds herself on a rescue mission further out of her comfort zone than she could have ever imagined.
A collaborations between @tinyy-jj and @gooseyjossip for @elucienweekofficial
Read Chapter 3 on Ao3, or from the beginning!
Snippet below cut
Setting the strange trepidation aside, she pulled the cookies out of the oven and frowned. A spiced aroma wafted upwards, taunting her with its familiarity. She gasped, wide eyes darting from the line of ingredients then back down.
Sheâd used cinnamon, nutmeg, and the zest of a bergamot orange⌠oh gods.
tags: contemporary au, established relationship, slice of life, sfw
word count: 1.2k
authorâs note: i have a folder with like 7 fic ideas AND a wip from two years ago, but i just⌠havenât had any motivation to write in a loooooong time. but last night, i was making dinner and thought to myself âelain would make this pastaâ â just in time for the last day of @elucienweekofficial.
and, i think it fits our dearly departed after the after party theme idea quite nicely (:
The screen door clicks into place behind Elain, but she leaves the glass one thrown wide, inviting the balmy night breeze into the kitchen. The bowl tucked into her elbow is brimming with cherry tomatoes so ripe they seem primed to burst under the gentle stream of water.  Â
Yellow streetlight streams through the window above the sink, filtered through the gauzy curtain. Hazy and warm, it accentuates the tinge of pink on the tip of her nose and ridges of her cheekbones, the proof of a long afternoon outside. Rosy, soft, and so fucking beautiful.Â
Her dress is pink too, like peony petals, made of a delicate fabric that flutters every time she moves. The short sleeves look like butterfly wings, especially when she reaches up to pull the pins from the swoopy, braided knot at the nape of her neck. With every clink of a pin dropping to the counter, Elainâs hair gets messier â a looping, tangled snare that Lucien is dying to get caught in.Â
He nudges her hands out of the way, carefully pinches a pin between his fingers, and tugs. Once thereâs a heap of pins and elastic bands on the counter, Lucien slips his hands into Elainâs hair and presses his fingertips into her scalp. He wonders if she can feel him shiver behind her when she sighs, loose and content.Â
The dayâs humidity has rendered her curls frothy. Lucien sweeps it all over one shoulder. The sun left itâs mark here, too; her skin is especially warm against his lips. He kisses his way up the side of her neck as she swirls her hand in the bowl of water, tomatoes bobbing at the surface. He breathes in the last whisper of perfume, nuzzles closer when she tries to squirm away. Elain endures this for a moment longer before her hand darts out of the sink, flicking cold water in his face.Â
As she laughs with mischief and triumph, water drips into Lucienâs smile.
He gives in, stepping back and giving Elain the space to clatter around, withdrawing pots and skillets and her bright blue colander, but he doesnât go far.Â
Lucienâs linen shirt is too new to be soft, stiff at the collar and a bit itchy after being worn through hours of mandated corporate socialization under the ruthless July sun. But instead of stripping it off and heading to the shower, as heâd been so eagerly anticipating in the car, Lucien settles for popping a few buttons. And, to justify lingering with her in the cramped kitchen while the water comes to a boil, rolls his sleeves up to his elbows and makes himself useful in one of the few ways he can: slicing an onion lengthwise, then peeling away the papery outer layer.
Despite how awkward it feels, he keeps his fingertips tucked in and out of the way of the sharp blade, having learned the hard way just how diligent Elain is about sharpening her knives. His movements are slow but result in with uneven pieces regardless. Elain, meanwhile, has already reduced the garlic cloves to pungent mush on her own cutting board, and is observing him with a bemused grin. âYouâve been practicing.âÂ
She tips the onion into the waiting skillet, and they hiss and snap when they hit the hot metal. Instantly, the aromatics have Lucienâs stomach growling. The clock on the stove reads 10:22. Itâs off by an hour, so itâs actually 9:22, which is still late for dinner, even by his standards.Â
Finger sandwiches and artfully cut fruit can only do so much. Â
When Elain passes him a bottle of white wine, Lucien yanks the cork free, but before handing it back, he brings the bottle to his mouth. Under any other circumstances, Elainâs reprimand would have him grinning. But his lips were too busy curling in distaste. âTastes like grass.âÂ
âItâs herbal,â she insists, snatching the bottle. âYou know, your palette is surprisingly unrefined.âÂ
He gives her a flat look. âWe only produce reds.âÂ
After a moment, Elain murmurs, âI canât wait to try it.â
But the way she speaks, the warmth in her eyes, makes it sound more like I canât wait to see more of you.
And Lucien canât wait to show her. His childhood home overlooking the hills of south France, the endless rows of vines, and the bedroom where heâd dreamt of seeing what was beyond them. The cellars where he used to pretend he was Indiana Jones, scouring the catacombs for treasure. The kitchen his mother had used to make the best strawberry galette in the entire world.Â
His mother was possibly more excited than the both of them put together. Nevermind that Christmas is still months out, and they havenât bought their tickets yet â the trip and seeing Elain again is all sheâs been able to talk about. And, of course, the ring. Sheâs been over the moon since he had it priority shipped across the Atlantic.Â
Shit.Â
He shouldnât be thinking about it. Because, with that in his head, heâs bound to get cagey if they keep talking about the trip.Â
Forcing himself to move casually, he reaches on top of the fridge and flicks on the old Emerson.Â
Once the static fizzles out, the smoky tones of the evening host fill the room, warning of the impending thunderstorm. Then, Etta James.Â
Lucien takes Elainâs hand and pulls her close. They fall into step effortlessly â something between a proper waltz and the most annoying couple at prom â while the pasta boils and the tomatoes bubble and burst in the pan.Â
The space is too cramped for a spin, but he attempts one anyway. Her hip bumps into the counter, and then she pinballs, laughing, back into him, her back pressed against his chest. He holds her like that, arms crossed in front of her, as they sway.Â
Despite the gentle quiet, he barely hears the chime of the timer next to the steaming pot.Â
Lucien tosses while Elain grates in the cheese until a glossy sauce starts to form, clinging to the noodles and making his mouth water.Â
Without ceremony, he stabs a fork into the tangle of noodles, and twirls an ambitious amount around his fork. One of the cherry tomatoes, bundled within the noodles and boiling hot, explodes between Lucienâs teeth.Â
His curse, while vehement, is garbled by his panting tongue. Elain grips his chin, and Lucien lets her turn his face.Â
 âOh dear,â she tuts, pretending to examine his tongue. âThey might have to amputate.âÂ
He laughs, nipping at her fingers. âYou say that like you wouldnât miss it more than I would.âÂ
Elain splutters, a sound somewhere between a mortified squeak and an affronted gasp. Itâs too dark now to see the color bloom on her cheeks, but he knows itâs there. When she swats his shoulder in playful reprimand, he snatches her hand.
The first kiss, to the back of her palm, is a loud, teasing smack. But when he gets to her knuckles, he canât help but let his lips linger on her skin.Â
Elain threads her fingers between his for what must be the thousandth time, and Lucien pictures her doing it a thousand more. He imagines other nights ending just like this, and canât decide if heâs disappointed or grateful that the ring is an ocean away.
this was a really fun challenge for me; iâm often so afraid of not having enough dialogue or lingering too long in a scene that i tend to under-describe. or, at least, thatâs what people in my college writing workshops used to say. but i really like this and it has perhaps inspired me to write more fics about nothing in the future haha Â
also, for anyone whoâs interested, i made a lil recipe card for the pasta. itâs super easy, and very light and fresh for summer!
It's a Two-Shot for @elucienweekofficial Day 7- Revival
I chose to Revive Calanmai! Honestly, Calanmai and Feral are so good together, that my submission for Feral was a precurser of things to come for this fic!
You can read it on AO3 Here
word count ~ 5.2K words Rated E
Summary:
After several months, Elain overhears that their efforts to heal the Spring Court have been little help. It seems the only chance they have is to hold another Calanmai. Lucien agrees to take up the mantle once more in Tamlin's stead, and this time, Elain wants to take part. She now attends her first Fire Night, but her emotions grow tense at the thought of her mate finding another female as the maiden to perform the rite with. Spring has not seen two mates perform the Great Rite together in centuries, and Elain wonders if perhaps now is the time to rectify that.
Thank you so so sooooo much to @gooseyjossip for beta reading, and helping me a ton to really find my voice and bring this to life! Thank you for the time and patience you put into my babbling! This means so much!
And here's a brief snippet under the cut!
âHas Lucien left already?â Elain asked, her eyes focused on the body painting in her reflection rather than noticing the oh so slightly possessive expression she was making on her stupid face. The two faeries exchanged knowing looks between each other. Then Rue answered as she continued her painting up Elainâs ribcage,
âYes. He is acting Highlord.â There was a brief pause before she continued. âHe will take his role as the hunter.â Sya paused her weaving when Elain angled her head towards Rue.
âThe hunter?â Her voice was laced with confusion. Lucien hadnât mentioned anything about that. Rue didnât look up from where she was painting, keeping focus on the delicate intricacies of this particular vine.
âYes my lady, it is the highest honor. He will hunt the stag for the great rite, and then he will hunt and pursue his maiden.â Elain stopped moving entirely, her body so still that Rue looked concerned at the lack of seeing any sign of breathing. Something cold and dreadful coursed through her body, sinking down into the pit of her stomach. She felt a chill climb up her spine, tendrils of icy rage at the thought of him seeking out another. Not directed at him, but at some vague feminine figure that dare touch what belonged to her. She could hear her pulse, louder than any of the drums outsideâ and the chant. Over and over again.
Summary: As far as Elain knew, in all of her ten years of collected knowledge, she was the only person who frequented these woods. She'd never seen footprints before. Not ones this recent, not ones that the forest guided her to.
That curious sensation in her chest grew stronger. A stumbling beat. A beckoning.
Go, the rustling leaves called to her. Go see.
She had never seen him before, but Elain knew at once who he was.
What he was.
A Vanserra.
Or: That time an eerie meet cute in the forest changed their lives
A contribution to @elucienweekofficial Day 7: Revival (The Forest)
Read on AO3 ăť Series Masterlist ăť Previous Chapter
-
4 years earlier
The warmth of the cottage clung to Elain's damp clothes as she stepped through its doorway. She was grateful to be out of the mist, even if she felt a bit like a drowned kitten compared to the lady in her fine gown. It was befitting of royalty, and a strange thing to behold in the middle of the forest. Its pristine green hems swept over the equally pristine floorboards as she strode to the hearth, grabbed a spoon hanging by a hook, and stirred the bubbling pot that smelled pleasantly of citrus and clove.
"Tea?" She asked, voice a soothing hum.
"Ohâyes please."
Elain didn't know whether to hold her arms crossed or at her sides. Whether to compliment the lady's home, or dare to broach any of the countless questions spinning through her mind. The former felt the more polite subject to fixate on, and Elain wanted to make a decent impression on her husband's mother.
She searched the small living space on a quest for something to say. It was simple, but charming. Consistent of naught but a hearth, overlapping fur rugs, a dining table, shelves of earthenware, and a staircase that led to the place where she must sleep. Dried herbs hung haphazardly from hooks in the ceiling, which Elain swerved to follow the lady's gesture to one of the wooden stools at the dining table.
The lady plucked one of the clay mugs from a nearby shelf, ladled the boiling liquid into it, and set the steaming cup on the table before Elain.
"I would tell you my name," she said, a peculiar sadness in her eyes, "but you will soon forget it."
Elain's hands folded around the hot cup, finding solace in its gentle sting against her palm.
"What do you mean?"
"You are not the first Beron has sent to find me." Her gaze wandered to the wall, staring vacantly as if she could see through the wood and mist and trees to the tyrant who lived beyond. Perhaps she couldâElain knew she often stared in space and saw things there were not there. "You won't be the last, either."
"What do you mean⌠that I will forget?"
The lady's gaze grew sharper with clarity. She blinked, then swung her focus back to Elain. Again, her expression was one written by melancholy.
"The forest is a spiderweb of memory. We are at its center, now permanently entwined in its net. All who enter this place will forget, once they leave. It's why I sought solace here. No one who finds me can ever recall doing so."
I've met one other like you. She stole something from me, then fled from this house and hid it in those woods.
The thing that she stole⌠it was not an object. It was a personâherself. She stole his bride away, and fled into the woods to hide in a place he could never find her.
"How much?"
The lady seemed startled. "Pardon?"
"How much will I forget?"
"All of it," was her somber reply. "From the moment you were born to the first step you take outside of the lantern's light. With your abilities, perhaps, glimpses of it will come back to you overtime. But not everything."
The tea in her hands, still scalding her skin, was suddenly ice cold. If she blew out a breath, she was certain she would have seen it condense before her eyes. The truth was a blistering winter chill, and it shook her to the bone.
"That can't be," she whispered.
A comforting hand fell to her back. It rubbed soothing, maternal circles up and down her spine. "You can stay," she offered. "As long as you're within these walls, you will remember."
Her family, her sisters, her childhoodâŚÂ Lucien. It would all be gone the moment she left the forest's heart. And then what? She would be taken back to Beron and punished for not fulfilling the task that she could no longer remember. How many times would she be forced to return to this place in an effort to satisfy his revenge? How many pieces of herself would she lose in the process?
"How do you know it's true?" Elain asked, somehow managing to find her voice against the grief cutting into her. "Have you ever left?"
"I've had seven children. Six of them were born in the Forest House. One of them was born here. In this cottage."
She knew, without demanding clarification, precisely which child she was referring to. "Lucien was born here?"
The lady smiled. It was the first hint of warmth Elain had seen in the woman, but it did not completely eclipse her sorrow. Elain wondered if this was who she would become if she stayed. A specter of all that she'd left behind in order to remember. Forced to lose the people she loved one way or another.
"Come with me."
The lady stood, her green skirts swishing as she led Elain to a door in the back of the cottage. The bronze doorknob creaked as it turned, and then the oak door was swinging open to reveal the small garden at the back of the cottage. A path of stepping stones was line by boxed garden beds overspilling with green leafage. At its end, they stepped through another wooden gate, where a hill sloped downward to a pool of milky water, the same color as the luminous mist that shrouded the forest.
"This is where the forest's memory is kept."
When the lady began striding towards the water's edge, Elain glanced behind them to ensure they could still see the lantern's light.
"It's okay," the lady soothed, noticing her hesitation. "You will not lose your memory by coming here. This is the place where it can be restored."
Gathering her skirts around her knees, the lady lowered into a crouch at the bank of soft moss. Her cupped hands dived through the eerily still surface, collecting a pool of her own, cradled between two steady palms.
"Come here, my dear. Look into my hands."
With two heartbeats hammering in her throat, Elain tentatively approached. She leaned over the lady's shoulder to peer into the water she held in her hands. At first, she saw nothing but her strange, pearlescent reflection.
Then, the surface rippled.
She saw the lady, though this version of her was younger and brighter, full of smiles. Like Elain, she and her sisters were daughters of the temple. But when the High Lord of Autumn demanded her hand in marriage, she was forced to leave them behind. She sought solace in the forest as Elain so often had, taking barefoot into the mist whenever life at the Forest House became too much to bear.
One day, the lady encountered a lost traveler. One with glowing dark skin and a grin as broad and sparkling as the horizon. Elain held in her gasp as she recognized that smile, the same way she had recognized Lucien in the lady crouched before her.
There was no denying how the lost traveler and the lady lit up upon seeing each other, despite being strangers. Though the lady initially guided the lost traveler out of the forest, he showed up again. And again. Elain had never seen anything so romantic as the traveler willingly becoming lost day after day for the chance of seeing the red-haired lady who had caught his affections.
This went on for some time, until the day she showed up with a swollen belly and a confession that the child did not belong to her husband. The lady expected to be turned away at this news, but instead, the traveler began building a cottage for her at the very center of the forest.
They did not realize the consequences. Not at first. Their time at the forest's heart was blissful to start. The house was built to near completion, and they had been able to come and go freely until the moment the lantern was placed on the finished entryway. They did not know it yet, but something had changed.
A net had been cast.
With a heartfelt kiss farewell, the traveler left to gather more supplies. The lady waited for him to return. Days and days of waiting. She gave birth to their son in that time, and still she remained until she ran out of food, and she had no choice but to leave.
Then the lady did not return, either. For she and the traveler no longer remembered each other, or the child they had brought into the world together. The lady was left to wither under the control of Beron, who grew increasingly suspicious of the legitimacy of their newest child and the memories his wife could not account for.
Over time, glimmers of memory trickled back. With them, came the lady's fear that her son's true parentage would come to light. Terrified of what Beron would do if he ever discovered the truth, the lady fled into the forest once again. In doing so, she came upon the cottage that her lover once built for her. Then, upon the pool of milky water.
After staring into it and seeing her own reflection, the lady's memory was restored.
The lady unclasped her hands, shattering the vision with such abruptness that Elain reeled backwards, stumbling to regain her balance. Her mind spun as she processed all that she learned. All that she would forget.
"So you see," the lady said softly. "You can choose to leave or you can choose to stay, but you will be incomplete either way."
When had her throat filled with sand? Why was it so difficult to swallow?
"How could the forest do this to us?" Elain could not disguise the hurt in her voice, feeling betrayed by the entity she had always considered her closest companion. "I thought it loved me."
The lady's smile was sad. "Perhaps it is precisely because it loves us that it wants to keep us so close."
"But Lucien's out there," Elain rasped. "He's waiting for me to come back to him. He won't be able to make it out of the forest on his own."
The lady looked as if she was expecting Elain to say this. Her expression was mournful, but not surprised.
"Then you must decide whether you wish to lose Lucien, or your memories of him."
Tears stung the back of Elain's vision. She blinked them back rapidly. "But if I leave, he'll take me back to Autumn. I won't remember why it's not safe for us to return."
With a woeful cluck of her tongue, the lady gathered Elain in her arms and gave her a fierce hug. "I once had to make the same choice. The decision was not hard, but the consequences were. I know it will be the same for you." The lady pulled back, clutching Elain's shoulders with gentle hands. One of them reached up to dash away her tears. "You must remember, you are only choosing the start of the path. Not the end. For the end can always change."
Elain had scarcely known a mother's soft touch. If she had, she imagined it would feel something like how the lady held her. Nurturing and patient and gentle. The lady waited, fingers rubbing small circles, until Elain managed to still her tears.
Her voice was rusted by the time she found it again. "How do I make sure that I reach the right ending?"
This pulled a light, almost reluctant, laugh from the lady. "Oh my darling, even as a seer it is not possible to ensure such a thing. What you must remember is that if your heart still beats, you have not reached the end. You still have time to change your course."
Elain wanted to say more, ask more, but she was interrupted by a male voice calling out, hello?
The voice caused them both to stiffen, for they both recognized it. Elain stared up the hill, expecting to find her husband's red hair and signature smirk. She found only one of those things. A familiar smile on the lips of a male who had long black hair. Thick, muscled arms were crossed over his chest, his sleeves rolled up to reveal smooth dark skin gleaning with the sweat of his travels.
"Pardon my intrusion, ladies! I was lost in the woods and stumbled on this cottage," called the male. "I wasn't certain if it was occupied. Might I trade some labor for a bit of food? I would happily chop wood for you."
At this, Elain recalled the generous stack of wood at the front of the cottage. She turned back to the lady, a question in her gaze.
Her eyes were shining now, too. "When Helion decided to build a cottage for me here, I tied ribbons to the trees so he could follow the path in and out of the woods at his leisure. He doesn't remember me when he goes but he always finds his way back. Even now."
Elain's attention strayed to the pool, where herself and the lady cast a murky reflection. Helion need only glimpse upon it to remember who the lady before him truly was. But the lady rose to her feet, making no indication that she intended to offer his memories back to him.
Though Elain did not voice this thought, the lady noticed Elain's stare and knew exactly where her mind had wandered. She gave a short, weary sigh, her attention still fixed on Helion.
"Sometimes I ask him to look into the pool," she said, distracted. "Sometimes⌠it hurts too much to lose him again."
Elain was stunned by this. "He leaves even once he remembers who you are?"
The lady nodded. "He must. He has obligations elsewhere and cannot afford to live in the forest with me. Sometimes he stays for days and weeks at a time. Often he leaves with the intention of bringing me back supplies."
"How? He would forget about the supplies as soon as he leaves."
A wry smile tugged at the corner of the lady's lips. "He leaves himself notes. And often, he honors them. Even when he cannot remember why he's lugging chests of clothing through the forest."
Elain was cut off from further questioning as the lady strode up the hill to meet her lover. All hints of the sad, desolate woman evaporated as she flashed the man an enchanting smile.
"You look weary, traveler! Allow me to fetch you some refreshments."
-
Elain,
You will not recall writing this note.
Nor will you recall why you are standing in the forest.
When you find Lucien, he will try to bring you back to the Forest House. Do not let him.
You cannot return to Autumn under any circumstances.
Find Lucien, lead him out of the forest, then do what you must to escape the Autumn Court for good.
Yours in absent memory,
Elain Archeron
-
The letter was right. Elain could not remember writing it, nor could she recall⌠anything. She did not know who Lucien was, or why she could not go with him to the Forest House.
She did not even know where she was.
But where she was seemed to know her.
Elain, the wind whispered, rustling through the trees. This way.
That seemed as good a starting point as any. Elain followed the wind, keeping her head on a swivel as she walked, searching for any tree or rock or landmark that might fan a spark of recognition. As she followed, the forest spoke to her.
You are Elain Archeron, the birds chirped.
You belong to this forest, sighed the trees.
You may leave, skittered the rock underfoot, but you will always return.
You have always belonged with us.
Elain continued walking, uncertain how she felt about the things she was being told. Did the forest always speak to her like this? Did it speak to everyone like this? There was a creeping sense of foreboding in her stomach, but she did not know what do with the feeling.
"Elain?" Something called in the distance.
A human voice this time.
She froze, a hand flying to her chest to marvel at the rhythm thumping beneath her fingers. Two heartbeats instead of one. Elain seemed to recall this was not ordinary, but she did not remember what it meant.
"Hello?" She called back, following the voice because the wind was nudging at her, telling her to go. Go see.
A red haired man appeared in her vision, his face stark with relief. "Oh, thank the Cauldron," he breathed, rushing to sweep her into his arms. At once she was crushed against his chest while soft lips peppered her temple. "I was worried sick."
"Lucien?" She asked, the words muffled in the collar of his shirt.
"Yes, what is it, love?"
Love. From the letter, she had not known who to expect Lucien might be to her. But the picture was starting to become clearer.
She briefly considered admitting that she did not know who he was, or who she was aside from a name. But she worried if she told him that, he would take her to Autumn, and the one thing she knew with certainty was that she could not let him take her there.
She settled on asking, "Can we leave?"
"Of course. Were you able to find what my father wanted?"
Elain stiffened. Was that why they were here? They'd come to the forest looking for something for Lucien's father, and now her past self was refusing to return? Did that mean she was able to find what they were looking for?
"Can was talk about it later?"
There must have been some tell in her voice. Her evasiveness too obvious. For Lucien tensed, then retreated to read her expression.
"What's wrong?" He searched her person as if he expected he would find some kind of injury. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine." Her voice was too strained, conveying the opposite of her words. Elain winced then tried again, "I'm just a little weary. I'd like to rest."
Lucien nodded. "Then we will rest."
When he started to lower himself to the ground, Elain sputtered.
"Not here!" Her tone was a bit too loud for someone who was supposedly weary. She lowered it. "I'd like to rest atâat home."
Wherever home was.
"My father will sequester you away as soon as we walk through the doors. If you want rest, we'd be best to take it now."
"What if we⌠went somewhere else, for a time? To rest before we see your father again."
She hesitated. He was waiting for her answer with a gravity she did not know how to navigate. What if she said the wrong thing and he realized she had no idea what they were even looking for?
"Let's rest in the forest and keep looking," he suggested.
"Lucienâ"
"You need to find it, Elain."
His voice was becoming urgent. Distressed. The foreboding pit in her stomach was growing.
"I don't know where it is." It was the truth, even if it was also a lie. "But I want to leave."
Lucien's face contorted as though he was in pain. "We can't leave until we find it, Elain. If we return empty handed, he'llâ" He cut himself off, running a frantic hand through his long red hair. If Elain didn't feel so troubled, she might have admired how handsome he was. "Let's just keep looking, okay?"
Her throat was beginning to feel like sandpaper. She managed to force words through it, but they were rough. "Okay."
Her agreement seemed to settle him, at least. Strong, warm fingers threaded through her own and squeezed in attempt at reassurance.
Do what you must to escape. That was what past Elain had written. If that meant tricking Lucien, then so be it.
"Let's head this way," she said, pulling him in a direction that she knew would lead them out of the forest. Even if she didn't quite understand how she knew that.
They walked in silence for a time. Lucien snuck glances her way when he thought she wasn't looking. Sometimes she wasn't, yet she still knew when it happened. The forest was betraying him.
He's looking again, said the woods in a sing-song, like a child thinking it was fun to tease. He knows something's changed.
"Are you sure you know where we're going?"
His voice held a levelness that felt a little too casual.
"Of course," Elain said, leading them closer and closer to the edge.
Pick me, cried a flower floating on the wind. You're going to need it.
Elain snatched it from the air, uncurling her fingers to assess its purple petals for meaning. Lucien was watching her closely.
"What's that?"
She closed her fist in case he would recognize it. "A flower."
Lucien hummed. The subject dropped, but the flower did not. Elain carried it in her fist as they continued walking, and Lucien eyed her all the while as if he expected she might try to attack him with it.
Crush it in your fingers, coaxed a rabbit, peaking from its warren beneath a tree stump. Grind it as finely as you can.
"WaitâŚ" Lucien ground to a halt as they neared the edge of the forest, where the mist gave way to the overgrown path that led back to Autumn. His lips parted open, gaping at the open land as if he couldn't work out if it was a trick. It didn't take long for his awe to morph into a scowl.
He whirled to face her, sparing no effort to hide his betrayal.
"What are youâ"
Elain unfurled her palm and blew the crushed flower petals into his face.
Lucien's hands flew to shield himself too late, already coughing on the pieces he inhaled. He was spluttering, trying to wipe them off and recover the anger she'd interrupted, when the effect kicked in. If Elain was stronger, she would have tried to catch him, at least, so his fall to the earth was not quite so brutal.
He landed with a heavy thump, hitting his head quite harshly on the hard earth.
"Oh, goddess!" She cried, diving to the ground to check that he was still breathing.
Alive, the forest at her back confirmed.
Elain wanted to stay and make sure that he would be okay. But this was her chance. When he woke minutes or hours later, he would be able to leave the forest. But he would not be able to follow.
With a parting kiss to his temple, Elain retreated back into the woods. She would follow the wind to the other side, where the forest bordered the Spring Court. Then she would continue South until she found a ship and from thereâŚ
Who knows.
This was only the start of her path.
 Present Day
It took some time, and a bit of aimless wandering, before Elain and Lucien found a tree with a ribbon tied to it.
Elain couldn't recall what the ribbon signified, but the sight itched at something familiar. Like a path of primrose. Like a soothing voice whose words she couldn't discern. She knew, when she found the next tree with another ribbon tied to it, that she was on the right track.
They followed the ribbons until the mist became so thick she could no longer see her husband's face. Their hands tightened around each other, and though Elain could no longer see the trees or the ribbons tied to their branches, she knew to keep moving toward the glow of a lantern in the distance.
Then it cleared, as if stepping through a waterfall to a cavern on the other side. But rather than a dark cave, they stumbled upon a meadow framed by thick, ancient trees towering so high it was as though they intended to collect the clouds and drag them back to the forest floor. Perhaps that was the true source of all the mist.
A charming cottage lay in the center, with a lantern hooked by its entrance. It was daylight, but with the shade from the distant canopy and the looming mist, the lantern's glow was still bright and reassuring. Elain almost felt tempted to pull it from the hook, to keep it sheltered against her chest so that it might comfort her from whatever came next.
"Do you want to knock?" Lucien asked, nodding to the front door. "Or shall I?"
Neither of them did, in the end. The door opened on its own.
Or at least, Elain thought it did until a feminine voice called from inside, "Are you going to come in?"
Lucien was the first to step through the door, keeping his body protectively in front of Elain as he surveyed the dining table, the hearth, and the woman standing before it.
They both froze at the sight of her.
She was familiar as more than just the ghost of a memory Elain couldn't conjure. It was the red hair braided into a long tail all the way down her back, and the russet eyes filling with tears as she stared and Lucien and Lucien stared back.
"Oh, look at you," she whispered, eyes shining with too many emotions for Elain to place, but highest among them was pride. "You are so handsome."
Lucien's face went a bit slack. "Are youâŚ" His brows pinched together. "Mother?"
She approached him with wide, fixated eyes that combed over him again and again, as if glued to such disbelief that he was here that she needed to memorize him before he disappeared from sight.
"It's me," she whispered, fingers tracing the air in front of her. Not daring to instigate a touch, but still trying to trace his outline. "There were so many times I thought about leaving to come find you. But if Beron ever learned what I didâ"
The lady stopped herself short as she came to the scars on his face, horror eclipsing her awe as she pieced together the source. Who else could do something so vicious other than Lucien's father?
"Oh, my poor boy!" She gasped, raising a shaky hand to cover her mouth. "I should never have left you with him. Iâ"
Lucien was shaking his head, still frowning. "He said that you were dead. That youâ" He swiveled away from the woman, facing Elain instead, though she thought that he would have preferred to have no witness to the anguish he tried to rub away with his palm.
Behind his shoulder, the lady's posture caved inwards. "I'm so sorry, Lucien."
"It's no matter," he choked, still refusing to face her. "It's not why we came here."
His eyes pinned to Elain, burning with an intensity that now felt tripled. If she waved a hand between them, she expected to find a thread there, one that he was clutching with white knuckles to keep himself tethered.
"Yes," Lucien's mother breathed, collapsing over a chair she pulled from the dining table. "Yes, I know why you're here. Helion must have kept his promise to deliver my letter." She found Elain's face over Lucien's shoulder and offered a weak smile. "It's good to see you again."
Again?
"You'll have no memory of it, of course, but this is not the first time you've visited my home." The lady pointed to a door at the back of the cottage. "The pool is just out there, at the other side of the garden. Why don't you get your memory back while I make us some tea?"
Elain recognized the suggestion for what it wasâan offer of privacy, so that she and Lucien could confront these revelations away from the eyes of a stranger.
"What do I need to do?"
"Look at your reflection in the water," the lady said simply. "Once you do, you will recognize yourself again."
She spoke as if from experience. Elain wanted to know more, but Lucien grabbed her by the hand and towed her to the door before she could satisfy her curiosities. She snuck a sideways glance at him as they strode past a garden bed bursting with ruffled kale leaves and oblong sprouts of spinach.
"Is this not pleasant news?" She kept her tone gentle. "That she's alive?"
A muscle ticked in jaw. "It is. But I don't understand why she would leave me with him."
This is a wound you helped fester, she thought to herself. You abandoned him, too.
"That's something you should ask her. She might have a reason for it."
Lucien made a noise that sounded vaguely of agreement, though it was clear he had no wish to further the discussion. Elain wished he would, if only so it would take her mind off of the pool they were approaching, shining a murky silver as thought it were reflecting the moon.
The air around the pool hung limp, as if it had gone undisturbed by wind for centuries. She held her breath to listen for any warnings, but there was no sound at all from the surrounding forest. The insects fell quiet. The birds held back their song. And the trees merely watched.
All she could hear was Lucien's heartbeat, calling to her as it always had.
And maybe, if she'd bothered to listen as carefully as she should have, she might have heard what it was saying to her all along.
I am yours and you are mine.
With fingers buried in the earth to steady herself, Elain peered over the pool's edge.
Brown eyes stared back at her, unblinking.
And then the water rippled.
A life of memories played out before her. From chasing her sisters in the halls of the temple, to sneaking out to explore the forest for the first time. There was the day she met the youngest son of House Vanserra. The days she spent scrawling his name absently during her studiesâto which he heard Lucien snort behind her, witness to it all as well. The war. The wedding. The month of bliss that followed.
And the last time they entered this forest, when she'd unknowingly stumbled into the memory trap at its heart.
The same place they were standing now.
"Oh my god," she breathed, unable to contain her horror. "We're about to do it all again."
"We could stay."
Lucien didn't sound upset. In fact, he didn't sound surprised at all. Elain's eyes snapped to her husband, finding him remarkably calm for a man who just discovered he would lose all the memories he'd fought so hard to help her reclaim.
"The letter from HelionâŚ" Elain searched his face. "Did you know about this? That taking me here meant losing your own memories?"
Slowly, he nodded.
"How could you do such a thing!"
Lucien swallowed. This was likely not the overjoyed reunion he'd spent four years chasing, but how could she feel joy to know what he had sacrificed for her?
"My memories mean nothing without you," he said fiercely. "I have very few good ones, Elain, and you occupy each of them."
Damn him and his soft words. Elain knew he meant them, which only made it worse. She wanted to hold on to her outrage, but he was undeserving of it, and that left no one else to direct it to. With a frustrated shriek, Elain slapped her palm across the water's surface. Her fury rippled in silver waves and then stilled.
In a smaller voice, she said, "You didn't need to take me here. Why didn't you explain what it would cost you?"
"You would have said no. I didn't want you to make that decision without knowing what you were giving up. Now, we can make this decision together."
A decision. It was the same thing Lucien's mother had said to her the last time she crouched before this pool.
You can choose to leave or you can choose to stay.
What kind of life would it be, to stay? They would never have to fear that Beron might find them. But she would never be able to see her sisters again. Or tell them that she was alive. There wouldn't be much privacy, living in a small cottage with her mother-in-law. But there was potential for love and warmth and happiness.
Whereas if they were to leave⌠they would still have each other, but they would have no memory of everything that came before. The good as well as the bad. They could leave a note to themselves, but so much of their history would be erased.
"We don't have to decide this very moment," he said, taking Elain by the hand. "Let's go inside for tea, and keep ours minds open to both possibilities. For now, we can stay here to get a sense of what life could be like."
He was being infuriatingly sensible. But that had always been his talent.
There was no need to decide today. Or tomorrow. Or the next. They had only just found each other again, and they could take as long as they needed to decide where the next path would take them.
"You're right." Elain managed a smile, soothed by the truth she could feel ringing in her words. "There's no rush to decide. This isn't the end of our story."
Lucien squeeze her hand. "Exactly. It's only the beginning."
I had one Elucien note left in my Notes App to work on for @elucienweekofficial and never had the time to get to it. đ¤Śđžââď¸ đ
Elain overheard Feysand telling Lucien that Helion was his dad, he already knew but it pissed him off anyway. He punched Rhys, went back to the band of exilesâ manor.
Elain felt all his pain, tried not to be but was concerned about him, and very begrudgingly decided to take him flowers. Making it very clear that she didnât want a bond. But he found her endearing
She asks if the bond is driving him mad. He smirks and says no. She says, âwell you did punch Rhysand.â
He says something like âwith all due respect, lady, Rhys needed punching.â
She snorts. They bond.
There would be yearning and flirting. Jurian would do something sexy. Vassa would invite Elain to stay and we all know she would. Sigh maybe next year! Thanks to the admins and everyone who has participated! The talent in this fandom is amazing!! Itâs been a great week!
Elucien as Christine and Erik from The Phantom of the Opera.
Theyâd make great protagonists in a Gothic romance: Lucien with his tragic past and Elain with her sweetness masking her inner sadness, a misunderstood woman and a lonely man in search of love... Ah, such a dramatic couple! đ¤â¤ď¸
I haven't written elucien in sooo long but I had to write something for @elucienweekofficial !
So here's a little something for the day 7 prompt revival:
Azriel was the supposed spymaster, but to Lucien, Elain was always the bigger mystery. To any moderately observant individual, Azriel was an open book. As much as he tried to hide who he really was, it was this very attempt at suppression that made it all the more obvious when his anger burst out of him in torrential waves. Elain, on the other hand, had no such outbursts. Through the mating bond, Lucien could sense some things: that she was unhappy, that she longed for more than tending to her little garden in the pitiful soil of the Night Court. By the Cauldron, Lucien could say similar things about himself. He longed for more than just being the Inner Circle's lackey. But so long as they held their mating bond over his head, he had to duck his head and obey.
But Elain's real personality still remained hidden behind thorny iron gates. Lucien would've never imagined his mate being so...docile, and he knew Elain had barely given him a glimpse of her true self. Despite what Feyre and Nesta said, he couldn't believe their descriptions of her. Though at least part of what Nesta had said rang true to him: that she had once loved parties. In that way, she and Lucien were similar.
These days, it was hard to enjoy anything knowing his mate still wanted nothing to do with him, Tamlin was still miserable, the Spring Court was still in shambles, Beron was still alive and kicking, and Feyre still treated him like her enemy. His way of life had really collapsed in the span of a few months. He'd already had to rebuild his life once, when he'd escaped Autumn. Now he had to do it again, in a place he clearly did not belong. Seriously. No one here even knew how to clean their wings. It took all of Lucien's self control not to dump Day Court Wing Cleaning Serum on the bat boys' desks.
But today, everything was about to change. Because Lucien was walking into the Night Court palace to give Rhysand his weekly report when Elain seemingly apparated in front of him. It took all of Lucien's restraint not to jump and scream. Faeries took years to master the art of silence. Despite being human for 24 years, it hardly took Elain any time at all.
"Elain," Lucien croaked like some lovesick idiot. You don't even know her, and she doesn't even like you, he told himself, but it was no use. His mating bond was singing a romance song. She looked up at him silently, her big brown eyes glowing a brilliant bronze in the light of the sun coming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Fuck. She was so fucking beautiful. Lucien silently cursed as he felt his body react.
She just continued to stare at him for a few moments before she finally said, "Lucien." And lord if he didn't damn near drop to his knees. No one told him a mating bond would be so...painful. "Can I help you?" Lucien managed to get out. Please say yes please say yes please say yes-
"Yes. I need to touch you."
????????????????????????????????
Lucien's mind went blank. He stared at her like an idiot for Cauldron knew how long before he finally had presence of mind enough to gurgle, "Touch - me?"
"Yes," Elain said, like it was the most normal thing in the world and like Lucien's entire body wasn't lit up like lightning. She then proceeded to close the distance between them and grab his hands with her own.
Rough- her hands were riddled with scars and callouses. Lucien turned her hands over to inspect them, wincing at one particularly brutal cut slicing across the center of her right palm. He carefully ran his thumb over it, feeling the ridges of it. Gardening. So she hadn't worn his gloves. He felt something painful twinge in his chest, combined with the irrational urge to destroy whoever hurt her- in this case, a couple of thorny plants.
He looked back at her face to find her eyes closed, as though she were concentrating deeply on something. Not wanting to disturb her, Lucien kept quiet.
She remained like that for several minutes before she opened her eyes and stared at him. "He must swim," she said, as though this made complete sense. Lucien nodded, going along with it. She must have had a vision. "What do we need to do?" he enquired.
"We must see your friend," Elain said. "Go speak to Rhysand about it," she ordered.
"Which friend?" Lucien asked. Elain smiled ever so slightly. "The one my sister once loved, of course."
Tamlin.
"Your wish is my command, Lady Elain."
After convincing Rhysand to let Elain come with him (ridiculous that a grown woman has to ask for permission), Lucien met up with Elain in the hallway. She had already gotten dressed, wearing a thin lavender chiffon dress with butterfly sleeves that flowed to her knees. She had paired it with a beige sun hat, a silver leaf choker, and earrings in the shape of tulips. She had a bright smile on her face. This caught Lucien off guard; he hadn't seen such joy on her face since she was a human. Lucien didn't know if Elain even remembered that moment, what with Tamlin's magic and all.
Elain offered her arm in silent expectation. Lucien linked his arm with hers and together they winnowed. Normally, winnowing directly between courts was impossible due to magical barriers, but since Tamlin hadn't been doing much ruling the barriers had collapsed.
Spring looked as terrible as it was the last time Lucien was here. Withered leaves, the land once vibrant was now barren. The bright red roses were nothing but thorns. Elain knelt down and picked one of them up. The tang of iron assaulted Lucien's senses as Elain's fingers closed around the thorns. Instinctively, Lucien grabbed Elain's wrist and opened her palm, grabbing the stem and throwing it away.
"Why would you do that?" Lucien hissed, all propriety forgotten. Elain stared at her hand, looking mildly intrigued, as the cut slowly closed with her rapid Fae healing. "Because," Elain said simply.
"You don't have to hurt yourself to prove you're doing something worthwhile," Lucien said, internally cursing the night court for making her feel useless.
Elain's eyes flashed and her mouth pursed as she glared at Lucien with rage. "I don't need your protection," she snapped. Lucien rolled his eyes. "Retract those claws, sweetheart. All I said is don't hurt yourself for no reason."
Elain walked up to Lucien and tried to shove him. She had a surprising amount of strength, but Lucien still didn't budge. "What, you think I can't handle a little scratch?"
"Did I say that?" Lucien countered. "But just because you can doesn't mean you should do stupid shit just to get hurt."
Elain looked as though she was ready to fight, but then she sighed and her shoulders slumped. "You're right," she muttered. Lucien cringed. "This is about the Inner Circle, right? They kept you trapped in there, not allowed to do anything."
Elain nodded wordlessly. Lucien held his palms out in supplication. "I'm not them, ok?" he pleaded. "They don't respect me either."
Elain seemed to consider that for a moment before continuing to walk towards the manor that now looked more like a haunted house Lucien used to play in during Samhain. Lucien braced himself. He never knew which Tamlin he was going to get: the depressed, moping one or the raging asshole. Personally, Lucien preferred the ass; at least he had some fight in him.
"I know," Elain said. Lucien nodded and opened the door, which creaked loudly. Somehow, the house was the only place filled with nature. Vines grew over the walls, and Venus fly traps grew from cracks in the tiles. Lucien sighed. He sensed him in Feyre's old bedroom. The depressed, moping one then.
"Get out of there," Lucien ordered as he rushed up the stairs to find Tamlin. Lucien always had to suppress the urge to wince when he saw Tamlin now. He used to be so strong, both magically and physically. He could probably lift two Luciens in his prime. Now, Lucien could drag him off of Feyre's bed and lift him as they went down the stairs. His arms weren't thin, exactly, but they looked...ordinary. His hair was stringy and matted. His bright green eyes were now dull and lifeless.
"Sorry for the smell," Lucien said to Elain. She waved him off. "There are more pressing issues at hand," she said. Like the gigantic elephant High Lord in the room.
Tamlin looked from Lucien to Elain, chuckling. "At least one of us found their mate," he said bitterly. Lucien tried to be patient with Tamlin, but honestly he had very little left. He opened his mouth to say something that would probably earn him a slap when a cool hand clapped over his mouth. Lucien stopped breathing. Elain's hand smelled like jasmine and rich earth...like she was nature itself. He could focus on nothing but her hand, and nearly groaned when she pulled it away.
"I had a vision of Spring," Elain said. "I need you to listen to me, High Lord."
Tamlin shook his head. "No one has called me a High Lord in a year."
Elain raised a brow. "You are a High Lord, are you not?"
Tamlin let out another self-deprecating laugh. "Haven't you looked around? I'm the High Lord of nothing."
"Not if you listen to me," Elain said. To Lucien's utter shock, Tamlin stood up. He still towered over Lucien, despite him being rather tall himself. It was easy to forget when he was mostly on the ground these days. "So you'll listen to her, but not me?" Lucien demanded. Elain smirked at Lucien. "Even you will listen to me where you listen to no one else, Lucien," she countered. Lucien's jaw dropped. She was teasing him! That's not something you do with someone you hate!
Tamlin grinned. "I've never seen Lucien speechless like that," he noted. That snapped Lucien out of his trance, and he rolled his eyes at Tamlin. "I've seen you speechless plenty of times, Tam," Lucien grumbled. Tamlin and Elain both snickered at that.
Lucien raised a brow when Elain began to turn them into the forest. "Do you know where you're going?" he asked cautiously. Elain nodded. "The vision showed me the path," she said. She turned to him. "For some reason, the visions are always clearer when I'm closer to you."
"Probably the mating bond strengthening your magic," Lucien said. Elain hummed in agreement. She navigated the forest with the ease who had been here a thousand times before, which was astonishing. Soon, Lucien began to recognize the path they were taking.
"Wait, this takes us to the-" his voice trailed off as Elain led them directly to a glittery pool in the clearing.
"The Pool of Starlight," Tamlin said. He stared at it, his expression showing conflicting emotions. "Why are we here?"
As though drawn by its magic, Lucien and Tamlin both walked closer. They stood by the edge of the pool, staring at the beautiful depths, swirls of pink, blue, and purple visible within its waters. "Last time I was here was with Feyre," Tamlin murmured. Lucien sighed. "They say if you drink the water, you shall live happily till your last breath." He shook his head. "The pool won't let you drink from it though; otherwise everyone would try it."
"Try again," Elain said, and to Lucien's astonishment, she shoved Tamlin, who only gets out a surprised grunt before he's submerged in the water.
Lucien chortled when Tamlin resurfaced, soaking wet. The pool had cleaned his face, and he suddenly looked a lot brighter.
âThis pool isnât just starlight,â Elain said. âItâs where the Spring Court was born. High Lords can draw lots of power from this.â
âThe Mother told you that?â Lucien said, filled with wonder. Elain nodded. âLetâs just let him marinate in there for a week, then,â Lucien quipped. Elain placed a hand under her chin thoughtfully. âThat actually might work,â she mused.
Lucien stared at the bark of the trees, which had been decaying, as pieces rose off the forest floor and found their places, the color growing a richer brown, the sounds of birds and insects becoming louder. He grinned at Elain. "I can't believe I didn't think of this before," he said.
Elain shrugged, smiling. "You just needed another set of eyes," she replied.
"WILL YOU TWO JUST KISS ALREADY?" Tamlin bellowed from the pool. Lucien and Elain both jumped, staring at Tamlin. "Is this how you felt with me and Feyre, Lucien? I'm so sorry."
There was stunned silence for a moment. Then all three of them burst out laughing. "I forgive you...I suppose," Lucien said.
Summary: Lucienâs heart stopped the day his wifeâs heart did.
Or at least he wished it did.
Because Lucienâs heart still remained beating while Jesmindaâs heart continued to beat in another personâs chest. Dr Linâs Jane Doe, they called her.
Gods, he hated her.
Why did she get to live when Jesminda did not?
Rating: M, only for part one
WC: 780
A/N: I got to write on the plane back! A little fluff for Day 7 of @elucienweekofficial đ
Read on AO3 | Part One | Part Two
âYou know we donât have to do this.â
âI know that,â Elain snapped back, even as she cast another apprehensive glance below. She added stubbornly, âI want to.â
Lucien suppressed a smile as he watched Elain mutter under her breath to hype herself up. The sun beat down on them from above, its harsh heat radiated in the air in visible squiggly lines.
âOk ok, we should do this before the ground barbecues our feet alive.â Elain told him, bouncing on the balls of her feet but not moving closer to the cliff edge.
That was the third time she made the declaration. Lucien decided that should be the final one and stepped just behind her. One hand skirted around her waist and left feather-like caresses on her skin, his mouth a hairâs breadth away from the shell of her ear. He whispered, âShould I make it easier for you?â
Her heartbeat which had already been elevated, picked up further. âIâm serious about this, Lucien.â She complained half-heartedly.
He replied primly, âSo am I.â His hand continued its searing administrations. âAnd I think you just need a little distraction. You know, just to keep your thoughts at bay.â
Slowly but surely, he felt Elain giving in. âOh yeah?â
Lucien smiled against her ear. He breathed, teeth scrapping against the skin, âyeah.â He nudged her forward. âReady?â
âNot really.â She admitted, her voice still breathy.
He simply chuckled. âToo bad.â The hand on her waist moved swiftly to grab her hand. âJust keep your legs straight on the way down.â And with that, he flung the both of them off the edge and careening towards the sea paved by a wave of screams.
SPLASH!
The impact of the cold water on his skin was a stark relief but there was no chance to relish in it. Not when a sharp spike of fear traversed the bond. Like the bond that tethered them, Lucien tugged on their joined hands and pulled Elain into his chest, arm moving to wrap around her waist securely.
âItâs ok, Elain. Youâre safe, youâre safe.â He murmured assurances once he kicked them back to the surface. His powerful legs treading the water strongly enough to keep the two of them afloat.
A second pair of legs had soon joined his in treading the water. A sense of immense relief replaced the presence of fear in their bond. Next to him, Elain released a shuddering laugh.
âI did it!â
Lucien laughed and planted a wet kiss at her temple. âYou did it.â
With the snorkeling goggles Lucien pulled from the aether, the two mates explored the surrounding waters, admiring the expansive coral reefs and swimming fishes.
âThat was beautiful.â Gushed Elain as they made their way back to the nearby beach. With streams of teal reflected on her, messy wet hair and rivulets running down a bathing suit that was simply too enticing, An incomparable view, he thought.
âBeautiful,â he agreed anyway. His arms found its natural place â snaked around Elainâs waist. âAbsolutely,â he pulled her onto his lap, âbeautiful,â and licked the sea water off her neck.
âLucien!â She giggled as she lazily pushed him away. He held her firmly in his arms, reminiscent of a promise to never let go.
Sitting here on the pristine beaches of Bharat, the first leg of their honeymoon around the continent, Lucienâs chest felt all too tight. As if it could burst from all the happiness being contained within.
âWhat?â Elain asked with a lazy smile.
He shook his head. There was no need to when she could feel his emotions announcing themselves loudly down the bond anyway.
âJust thank you.â
âHmm?â
âThank you,â he repeated, the words felt solely inadequate to express all that he felt. âThank you for surviving all those years ago.â
âLucienâŚâ Elain trailed off as silver lined her eyes. She leaned in, close enough for Lucien to count each individual wet eye lash. âI love you.â
Their lips slotted together, the action as natural as breathing by now. Lucien tightened his arms around her as her arms circled his neck, deepening the kiss. Tongue slid against tongue, lips against lips, exploratory hands ran wild.
When the kiss broke, Lucien drank in his mate before him; swollen lips, flushed cheeks and fully blown pupils. He might have to update his record of the most beautiful view he was blessed with.
âI love you, Elain. Now and forevermore.â He captured her lips in a chaste kiss. âNow,â he breathed, âshall we head back to our room?â
âYes, letâs.â She agreed, her face split in a white smile.
How lucky was he that he gets to protect this smile for the rest of his life?
A/N: Am always so incredibly awed by the energy Eluciens and the event organisers put in every year. Always magnetic and always incredible, and not to mention everyone is so goddamn talented. So grateful to be able to participateđđđ
