writer and reader

[lectoradefics]

After watching Sarah J.Maas's interview, I will say that I imagine an Aelin-esque adventure for Elain, after the evil god of death takes away her partner, whom she was finally accepting or accepted but was taken away from her. firmly certain that Lucien and Elain will end up together. After many fights, resentments, discomfort and pain. I just wish that Elain would fight for him, that Lucien would finally feel wanted and defended for once.

[aldbooks]

helloI stopped by to say hello and ask you for a scene from Lucien and Elain.Whatever you want to share ❤️❤️ If it's about love, much better 😂😂😜I love how you write ❤️❤️❤️

You were probably hoping for some fluff but…. It’s me.

TW: depictions of anxiety/PTSD, SA

—-

Elain pushed through the crowd of half drunk faeries searching desperately for an escape from the overly friendly male who was, even now, dogging her heels, like a blood hound on the scent of it's prey.

He had approached her where she stood in a corner of the dancefloor, observing the couples that spun and twirled across the room in a sea of sparkling color, smiling to herself. He stepped far too close to be considered appropriate for a stranger she'd not even been introduced to, placing a proprietary hand on her back as he asked if she'd like to dance. When she had tried to demure, sidling out of his touch, he'd followed, seemingly unperturbed by her reticence. In fact, it only seem to encourage him and he continued to press his suit until she, quite literally, ran from him. Even then, he had followed, though his words and his tone had turned decidedly menacing as he spat curses and insults at her for 'daring to deny him'. This only pushed her feet faster.

As she moved through the crowd, she looked around for someone to intervene. The swirling darkness she had expected to appear not long after the male had first appeared had never come and she'd eventually spotted Azriel on the opposite side of the room. He looked to be in a quiet but heated argument with a red haired female in priestess robes. Alright, so the Shadowsinger, and apparently his shadows, were both distracted. No help from that quarter.

Rhysand and Cassian were both fully wrapped up in their mates, so neither they nor her sisters would be of any help as she was sure they were all oblivious to the world around them, or even that there were other people in it. Amren was perched in Varian's lap, dangerously close to making a public spectacle and Mor... was nowhere to be seen.

Interspersed among the crowd she saw a few familiar faces, random courtiers and warriors, even Helion, though she didn't know any of them well enough to hope for their intervention.

She could feel the male behind her growing increasingly belligerent as he attempted to close the gap between them and, just when she'd begun to despair of finding any help, she caught a glimpse of familiar red, just before she nearly slammed into his massive body.

Her racing heart stuttered in her chest as large, warm hands wrapped around her arms, steadying her, and she blinked up into the most beautiful face she'd ever seen, the features so starkly handsome, even the ragged scar through his left eye could not detract from their appeal.

"Elain?" auburn brows pushed together in concern as Lucien looked down at her. She could feel it through the bond, the urge to protect that he so ruthlessly kept in check. Normally, she appreciated his restraint, but right now...

She heard the male approaching behind her, his words so filthy, they drew gasps from those around him. She saw Lucien glance up and and behind her in surprise and- well, when asked about it later, she could not have said what made her do it, but suddenly her hands were wrapped around the lapels of his jacket, drawing his attention back to her as she muttered an apology and then.... she kissed him.

---

Lucien felt the insistent tug, both on his person and through the ties that bound them together and felt his body respond to her call before he could process what was happening. The moment her lips touched his, he froze.

It was, perhaps, the strangest feeling he'd ever encountered, and not even his extensive vocabulary seemed able to find the words to describe it. One part of him, the part that was bound to her, rejoiced, urging him to meet her demand, to take her in his arms and devour her.

Another part, one that, perhaps, had not healed as thoroughly as he'd thought- or rather, the part of him that had opted to forget rather than process the memories that haunted him, surged forward in a torrent of vicious emotion. Anger, disgust, self-loathing. This was not happening. Not again. She could not have him again.

She's dead. Some voice in the back of his mind rushed to say. It is not her, she's gone. You're safe. She will never touch you again. He could still hear the sickening crush of bone and flesh as the rock smashed her hand...

Still, he could not stop his mind's reaction as it fought to overpower the demands of his body. Ice crept through his veins, extinguishing the fire and he fought a wave of sickness.

Some other, small part of him was miraculously aware of his surroundings as it tried to process what was happening and why. He felt his left eye scanning his surroundings until it honed in on a male standing a few feet behind her. The one he'd seen only a moment ago, striding up behind her in a black rage. He'd recognized the look on his face, had seen it more than he'd cared to on his father's face when he'd come for his mother. Slowly, anger swept through him, replacing both the lust and the dread, as he began to piece together what had led them to this moment.

His hands, seemingly of their own accord, had made their way to her waist and he forced himself into a relaxed appearance, as though he had expected her, while he waited for the male to leave. As soon as he had, Lucien stepped back, hastily releasing her.

Elain seemed to stumble forward slightly, blinking up at him with a dazed expression. "Wha-?" The half finished word sounded more like a breathless exhale and he desperately tried to compose himself, refusing to let himself touch her again, despite the yearning in his chest. He could barely look at her as shame at his remembered humiliation warred in him, heating the skin of his neck to a flush.

"He's gone," he managed to rasp, feeling bile burn the back of his throat. He felt himself scanning the room for the quickest exit. He needed to get out. Now.

"What?" she repeated. He braved a quick glance at her, seeing her eyes clear as she blinked at him in confusion.

"The male who was following you. He's gone."

"Oh!" She started, glancing behind her as though she'd forgotten why she'd run to him in the first place. He could not even contemplate at the moment why she had run to him of all people and not one of her sisters, or the Shadowsinger she seemed so fond of. Truthfully, he couldn't contemplate much of anything right now beyond a hasty retreat. "Thank you."

Her words drew his attention briefly back to her as she frowned up at him. Whether it was concern, or something else, he didn't bother to find out. Years of training and good breeding allowed him to bow and offer a brief 'happy to be of service', before he turned on his heel and fled. At least his manners had not failed him in that.

He thought he might have heard her say something else, might have heard his name, but he paid it no mind as he stumbled out into the night air, the memories he'd managed to hold at bay before, now flooded him as he fell against a tree. The moment his hands touched the bark, he was no longer in the Night Court, but in the forests of Spring. Hands bound by the cursed blue stone, chained to the trunk of a tree, unable to free himself, helpless to do anything but watch as she smiled at him, the curve of her lips feline as she prowled closer, intent on having her way once again...

---

Once more, Elain found herself pushing through the crowd on a chase, only this time, she was not the one being pursued.

The moment their lips had met, she'd been overwhelmed by a desperate need unlike any she'd ever felt before. It had taken her by surprise and she'd nearly not been able to control herself as she felt the fierce tug of the bond, pulling her towards him. Some other sense, however, had managed to clear the fog in her mind enough to register that, not only was he not kissing her back, but he'd gone completely rigid.

She'd felt his hands on her waist, and had felt his body rearrange itself into a casual stance, but she'd still felt the tension radiating through him. Had felt the odd mix of emotions that were practically blasting through the bond. Lust, fear, want, anger, desire, disgust- shame.

He'd let her go so abruptly, she nearly stumbled into him again but he made no move to right her this time. She blinked up at him, trying to clear the mess of thoughts in her mind as she tried to process his mood, it was still a jumble she could not interpret, nor was his demeanor. To anyone else, he would have appeared utterly unfazed, coolly detached even. But she could see the tightness in his jaw, the paleness of his skin, even as a blush tried to overtake his features. She noticed that he would not look at her as she felt a steady pulse of shame from him. Like he'd done something wrong and feared her judgment. It made her heart ache.

Before she could even begin to guess why he felt that way, he'd excused himself, making a beeline for the door. Without thought, she followed him.

Outside, she watched with growing concern as his body weaved back and forth, his gait unsteady. When he stumbled into a tree, her steps sped up into a run as he all but crashed to his knees, retching in the grass.

She dropped to his side, reaching for him and nearly yelped when he flinched away from her so violently he nearly knocked her over. He scrambled away from her, his back pressing against the tree, which he clung to. "No," he snarled, the words half pleading. His eyes though... they seemed to look right through her, as though they weren't seeing her at all.

When she reached for him again, she felt a heavy wave of magic roll over her. She did not even have time to feel fear or panic at the return of the power she'd thought was dormant, before a vision overtook her, more clear than anything she'd seen before.

She was in another forest, greener, lusher, warmer. She could feel the rough scrape of bark against her back as she struggled against something. Glancing down, she saw blue stone cuffs at her wrist, attached to a thick chain lashed to the tree at her back, meant to keep her in place. Could feel the foul magic that pulsed from them, snuffing out her own power and making her feel, sick, empty.

A lilting, feminine voice spoke nearby and she looked up into the face of a startlingly beautiful woman with clear blue eyes and thick blond hair that spilled from beneath the hood of her robe, but beauty held no desire for her. All she felt was disgust as she reached out, running her hand on Elain's body only- it wasn't her body. As she looked down again, she saw the tips of flaming red hair, the flat, muscled planes of her chest where her shirt was undone, saw the laces of her pants already undone, the female's second hand attempting to tug them free.

"No," the words left her mouth on a deep, masculine, rasp and nausea rolled though her as she understood, with startling clarity, that what she was seeing was not a vision of the future, but a memory of the past. Lucien's memory.

Nausea churned her gut as she was forced to watch, as she felt the fear and humiliation that suffocated his frantic mind. Felt the utter degradation of a male so strong, brought low in an instant, his body no longer his own, the control entirely out of his hands. He was powerless.

She could hear the words he said to her, his desperate attempts to stop what now seemed inevitable. "I'm a mated male now." Those words had meant something to him, even then, even when he hadn't known her.

The rest came in fragments. The relief when Feyre had appeared, followed swiftly by oily shame. The horror laced with a hint of satisfaction as Feyre had punished the female. The dawning realization of just how much power Rhysand had once held over him- what someone with that power might have made him do...

She felt his disgust as he recounted his prior interactions with Ianthe, the way he tried to justify what had happened, tried to make it easier for himself to process the wrongness of it.

"Please don't tell Elain."

Mercifully, the memory released her then, in truth, she felt like she'd been thrust back into her own body to find her cheeks wet with tears and a sour taste in her mouth. Lucien still stared at her, pale and trembling slightly, but he seemed to have calmed somewhat, seemed to be present once more as he watched her warily, waiting for her reaction. She wasn't sure how he knew what she'd seen, maybe it was obvious on her face.

Slowly, so slowly, she inched forward. He held himself very still but did not flinch this time as she reached for him, softly brushing her fingers over his cheek.

"Lucien." His name was a uneven breath. A broken sigh of sympathy as she began to add more pieces to the puzzle that was her mate.

For a long, quiet moment, neither of them said anything as he reached back for her and she, for once, allowed him to hold her, allowed them both to take comfort in the thread that tied them both together and she reflected on what she knew of him.

It disturbed her to find so much of herself reflected in him- this strong, steady male who ached to be loved and accepted just as she did. To not be alone even when surrounded by others.To be seen and understood.

Another broken dreamer.

[norabraveseeker]

Angst & Yearning 🔥

The tension, angst, & yearning between Elain & Lucien has been top tier regency romance level 🤌 💛

You can support the art here 👇

We can’t wait to see more interactions between these two in future books 💛

@im_arc_, thank you so much for creating this passionate artwork of Elain & Lucien. They both look insanely hot! Your artwork is always absolutely beautiful 💛

@im_arc_, thank you for all your kindness during this commission. You’ve been wonderful to work with!

Commissioned by @amandapearls @kt-reads-things & myself

Art by @im_arc_ (Isabella)

All characters belong to Sarah J Maas & Bloomsbury Publishing

✨Please do not repost, alter, or use for anti-content ✨

✨Likes, shares, reblogs are always welcome ✨

[works-of-heart]

Redoing a picture I did of Lucien last year. I thought it would be fun to see how different it looks now. Also, Lucien described in leathers, with a ponytail down his back, blood splattered on his face, was the hottest thing in ACOTAR series hands down.

[amandapearls]

One of my closest friends @freyjas-musings surprised me with this GORGEOUS Elucien birthday gift today! Thank you so much @freyjas-musings for this beautiful gift. I’m so thankful that we met all those years ago and became friends. You’ve been one of the few people to help keep me sane in this crazy fandom! I love you bunches 🩷🩷 thank you for all your love and support 🩷🩷

And thank you so much @brielyasmin for creating this beautiful artwork. Elain and Lucien look STUNNING 🥹🥹 your artwork always blows me away with its beauty!!

Characters belong to Sarah J Maas

[crmediagal]

Elucien 84

84. “Going somewhere?” by CRMediaGal

Lucien slunk towards the open archway, backing out of the cozy sitting room whilst spirits were high and the rowdy Inner Circle were distracted by their annual gift exchange...as well as their growing, collective inebriation. In his case, it was fairly easy to slip away unnoticed—or so it had been during all of the previous Solstice celebrations the Emissary had attended with this rather cold, indifferent group when it came to him.

After all, he didn't belong here. He never had.

But a beneficial friendship with the High Lady of the Night Court, no matter how estranged, saw the hopelessly infatuated male trying against hope (and his better judgement, he supposed) to bridge the tense gap between him and the High Lady's older sister, Elain.

She still happened to be his mate. And she still hadn't bothered to reject the bond.

At this point, Lucien hadn't a ruddy clue why. She barely looked at him when he did make an occasional appearance in Velaris, mostly out of obligation to Rhysand, the High Lord.

But also her.

Lucien had tried for three Solstices to get the Made Fae to so much as glance at him without open discomfort. Without curling in on herself as if his presence pained her. Without indicating through her repeated silences that he was exhausting his efforts.

And yet, here you are, he relented, jaw tightening as he forced his sad stare from his fetching mate, standing behind a couch across the room—as far away from him as possible, of course—and softly laughing with Nesta, Cassian and Mor.

Her family. Not his. Not ever.

What did you expect? That things would miraculously shift in your favor? Three pathetic years was enough of trying, surely?

Thus, a dismayed Lucien slipped out of the room and well before the festivities were over, with Elain's gift still stuffed in his side pocket. No point in embarrassing himself yet again...and watching her reluctantly accept his latest futile attempt to win her favor but without any of the joy he craved to receive.

Lucien headed for the foyer to collect his winter coat, determined to take a biting stroll through the snowy, winding streets of Velaris alone rather than spend another minute trapped in this stifling house where he remained a stranger. Getting your stupid, damned hopes up once more.

Lucien had just finished buttoning his burgundy and rust-colored plaid coat and was wrapping a thick scarf around his neck when a voice—her voice, hushed but sweet like honey—stopped him dead in his tracks. In spite of the toasty atmosphere, he shuddered.

"Going somewhere?"

He swiftly turned to discover Elain standing only feet from him. There was none of the glancing elsewhere in the room to avoid his gaze; or fidgeting with her hands in her lap. Her look was direct and focused, those beautifully soft brown eyes set against an abundance of golden curls that lovingly framed her face.

She was providing his attire careful consideration. And she was alone. Unaccompanied by either of her sisters to act as chaperons...or, more often than not, convenient buffers.

In slow motion Lucien lowered his hands to his side. "Yes, m'lady."

There was a thoughtful pause in which her regard swept over him from head to toe and back to head again. "Where to?" she eventually inquired, taking a notable step closer.

Lucien froze, dumbfounded. This was the most she had spoken to him since the Battle of Hybern...three years ago.

"My apartment," he answered rather stiffly, uncertain of what to make of this curious development. He dared not breathe incorrectly.

Elain angled her head, her bouncy curls drifting with that small bit of movement. "Then where?"

"To..." Lucien halted, his mechanical eye giving a sharp click.

Why should he tell her? Wouldn't she just run to inform her sister and the High Lord? Then again, he reckoned, let them be 'bothered' by any mention of their supposed enemy still residing in the ruined territory Feyre had long ago destroyed.

Lucien straightened his spine but revealed, "To Spring."

"Oh."

Odd. There was none of the disgust and disappointment Lucien had anticipated. Rather, Elain's expression remained entirely neutral.

"To visit your friend?"

Lucien shifted his feet and settled for placing his hands behind his back. "He's alone on Solstice."

"That's good of you to keep him company."

Lucien raised his eyebrows, earning a fleeting blush to Elain's fair cheeks. She was such a puzzle to piece together and no more so than at this very moment.

After more painful silence, however, Lucien could take no more. Her soulful eyes, her slightly parted, pink lips... Everything about Elain Archeron made Lucien's heart sore.

He cleared his throat and bowed his head, offering a quiet, "Happy Solstice," in parting.

There was no point in prolonging the awkwardness that was their—her—unfortunate predicament, especially since the female hadn't made any moves to change the situation. He grabbed a hold of the front door handle, intending to leave, when she suddenly shocked him by interrupting his departure.

"Wait."

When Lucien's head snapped towards her, he found her arm extended. To him. His heart thumped and he instinctively gripped the handle tighter.

"Please," she whispered and tread closer, his own reflection soon morphing in her doeful eyes. She had come so close that he could practically feel her breaths on his neck. "Would you... Would you reconsider...changing your plans?"

"'Changing my plans'?" Lucien found himself repeating, his own eyes narrowing in suspicion. And utter bafflement.

She gave an unhelpful nod and craned her neck up at him, offering a slim but thoughtful smile that nearly saw Lucien's heart stopping altogether. "Stay?" she stunned the male into silence by requesting. "For another day or two?"

Lucien blinked. Several times. The question escaped his trembling lips before his scrambled thoughts could grasp any scrap of understanding, "Why?"

It was an agonizing while before she finally spoke, though her eyes never drifted from his. "Because I don't want you to be a stranger, Lucien."

Her throat bobbed nervously. Then the warm encasing of her hand was curling around his arm, her fingers molding perfectly to the fine fabric of his coat. Her touch, even with his coat obstructing skin-on-skin contact, was soothing, peculiarly familiar. It felt like...home.

"I never did."

What the—

The unexpected gentle peck to his cheek was quick, shy, and purposeful. And the reactive shimmer that crossed Lucien's russet eye matched the newfound glow radiating from Elain's face.

"If it isn't too forward of me to ask, could your friend spare you for a few more days?"

Lucien searched Elain's soft features, still gobsmacked. He hardly trusted the sound of his own voice once he managed to hoarsely reply, "I...suppose so."

And just like that, Lucien found himself helplessly being drawn away from the front door and back down the hallway to rejoin the others, with a quietly strong-willed Elain now on his arm. Her gaze shifted away from him momentarily when they reentered the sitting room moments later arm-in-arm, but Lucien 's sidelong glance didn't miss the openly relieved, happy smile his mate wore for all to see.

'I don't want you to be a stranger, Lucien. I never did.'

Lucien chanced a shaky breath and fiddled with the gift that remained in his pocket. Maybe there was hope for them, after all.

[acourtoflucien]

Lay Me Down In The Light

Pairing: Lucien x Elain

For Day 2 of @elucienweekofficial 'Golden'

Summary: Elain wants to progress her and Lucien's relationship to the next level, but she doesn't know how to go about it. Walking in on him in the bath is certainly a place to start.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3,848

Chapter: 1/3

✨ Read on ao3 or Under the Cut✨

A/N: My contribution for the 'Golden' prompt for Elucien week. This will be two chapters, unfortunately my dissertation had to come first so this had to be split up *sigh*. I had a lot of fun with this, and the image of Lucien in the bath wouldn't leave me alone for weeks so here he finally is. I hope you enjoy it!

---

Elain pulled at the fur lining of her hood as she walked along the sleet slicked pavement. She had lingered for too long in the heated square, pouring over the goods on display in the Palace of Thread and Jewels, thinking already of Starfall despite winter’s insistent chill that showed no signs of ebbing.

Velaris was beautiful, of course, but cold, bitterly so in the winter months, and though bubbles of heat were kept in place for its residents the streets themselves remained icy. She shivered, the darkness of late February pressing in closer around her, the sky, though beautiful, seemed lower than usual, disheartening.

She paused at a fork in the road. Turning right would lead a more direct path to the river house, where no doubt the fire was roaring and dinner on its way. But left, it would take her past another house, the one that housed his apartment.

Lucien had been there near permanently as of late, and they had spent almost every day he was there together, walking around the town, eating in the various restaurants Velaris had to offer, or else spending the day curled up on the sofas in his apartment, talking the day away. Since solstice, she realised with a slight flush, he had been there since the winter solstice.

That night they had shared a kiss, a proper one, not the sweet presses of lips to her cheek or hand that had been the practice until then as they slowly got to know each other. No, this had been real and deep, and had made something flicker behind her ribcage, a flame that had settled there and grown every day since. She wondered how long she could endure it, burning for him like that.

He’d left last week for a quick visit to Jurian and Vassa, settled as they were in the human lands. Only a week, he’d promised. And that week was almost up.

She intended to go back to the river house tonight, to relax, bathe, get ready for his arrival tomorrow, and though she knew she should get out of the cold, part of her, the part that burned at every quiet word and soft touch, drove her to take the left fork and walk by the house just to look again at the promise it held.

Decision made, she set off, bracing against the bitter chill of wind. She had almost asked to go with him just to get out of the city, but she knew the human lands were no better, if not colder, than here.

Having to keep her eyes half-closed against the sleet now beginning to fall in earnest, she squinted down at the icy road, biting back a half-amused, half-incredulous smile as she realised she knew the way without even having to look. So different to how it had been just two years ago, when she’d barely spoken a word to him, never mind been to his rooms.

How time, and a little bit of courage, had changed their relationship entirely.

With her mind so focussed on thoughts of him and the way they had grown closer she arrived at the gate in what seemed no time, and reached out a hand to steady it as it had popped open in the wind. Then she looked up at the house.

Lucien’s apartment was on the top floor of the townhouse, the bottom owned by an older couple who always smiled when they saw her and were happy to talk to her about the little garden they tended to out the front.

She was glad to know them, even if their smiles were a little too knowing every time she took Lucien’s arm, or stared a bit too long at his profile when he was talking.

Now, she looked up at the windows of the house, trailed over as they were with climbing ivy, and was surprised to see a light in the top corner. Had he returned early?

A few days into the new year he had handed her a key to the apartment, telling her to let herself in anytime, knowing that though she loved her family, loved little Nyx, sometimes living with them could be a little. Well, a little overwhelming.

Her fae body had made her more sensitive to loud noise, more prone to headaches than she used to be, and sometimes it was nice to come into the cool interior of his rooms, surrounded by that sun-soaked cinnamon scent, and simply let her mind drift.

She had been there just the day before to tend to the little succulent plants on his windowsill that were curling and yellowing at the edges, repotting and pruning. Maybe she had left faelight shining, and not realised.

Not wanting to go home until she knew for sure, she decided to go up and check. If he was back early, she would simply apologise for disturbing him. Perhaps he would even invite her in for dinner. Or something more.

She ascended the stairs, pulling her hands out the fur lined gloves she wore to fish the key out of her bag. Opening the door, she made to call out, in case he had returned and was simply in one of the other rooms but something stopped her. Not the bond, something instinctive and quiet, a cool voice that whispered to her to stop. Her magic, she realised.

She listened to the stillness, breathing quietly. What if someone else had come into the house? The thought hadn’t occurred to her until that moment, that someone could be in here, perhaps searching for something. Lying in wait. But crime was so low in Velaris, almost unheard of, especially in these parts.

Then she heard it; a quiet sigh.

Something in the back of her mind relaxed at that. For that was his voice, she knew. And, she noted, the heartbeat that pulsed along with her own sounded stronger here. So he had returned early, she thought, and he was in the bathing room, suddenly recognising where the sound had come from. The door was left open a crack, and she could now see the soft golden glow of faelight that danced behind it.

She strained her senses, the heightened faerie hearing that had overwhelmed her so much in the beginning, everything too much, too loud, coupled with the sound of a constant beating heart that she felt everywhere, not just if he happened to be in the room with her at the time.

Again, some part of her made her keep quiet, still and listening. If she concentrated enough, she could hear his breath, deep and slow, but also, she realised, heavy. Laboured. Concerned, she started forward. Had he been injured somehow?

She couldn’t help her concern whenever he left for extended periods, but this had been a short trip, visiting friends. There should have been no reason for him to fight, or get hurt in any way, yet his breath said otherwise, and the heartbeat which had grown louder the closer she strayed to the door was fluttering slightly, an irregular rhythm that increased and ebbed again and again.

Moving forward instinctually, she listened for any further sound. She dreaded to think, was he hurt and thinking himself alone to deal with the pain? Or was it something else, something deeper? She remembered her mother’s fever, the quickening heart, the sharp, short breathing that came before the end.

It was only the bond, contentedly warm against her ribs, that stopped her falling into panic. She knew, had been told so many times by Feyre and the others, there would be no doubt if he was in trouble, that the bond would tighten, she would be able to feel it. There was nothing that suggested pain, or discomfort, only a warm contentedness, no doubt from the heated pool she knew lay behind the panelled doorway.

Right, that solved that, she told herself. She should get away from the door and tend to the fire, get the room and the house heated before he emerged so they could talk together. There was no point leaving, he would know she had been here from her scent and she didn’t want to walk out without at least wishing him a good night’s rest. Perhaps, he may even kiss her again.

Something sparked in her stomach at the thought, bright in its intensity. Flattening a hand to her abdomen, she tried to will herself to calm, but as she did so another bolt shot through her. Though this time not in her stomach, but behind her ribs.

It was all she could do to stop from gasping aloud. The soft noises, the quickening heart.

Telling herself not to, she inched closer to the door, the sliver of golden light where it laid open. Only to check, she thought, not even fooling herself, only to see he was okay. Not for any other reason, she thought sternly, before her reason abandoned her entirely as she caught the scent that was flowing from the room among the steam from the water.

It was Lucien, yet somehow sweeter and richer than she had ever noted before, dark and stirring like the warmth of a campfire, like the heady sweetness of the earth in the sun, like the spice laden comfort of ginger and cinnamon.

Her breath deepened, slowing to savour the headiness of it, the rush of heat and desire it held.

Later, she would blame what happened next on the soft moan she heard through the door. In reality, there was nothing on her mind other than following that scent to its source, sliding into the warmth and depth of it. Courage bloomed from somewhere within her, the sound and scent of her mate pulling her on. She held out a hand, and pushed open the door.

He was reclined against the wall of the tub, eyes closed, brows drawn in a frown of concentration and need, lips parted as he exhaled. His long red hair was dark and slick from the bathwater, sticking to the side of his face and trailing lazily across his chest, the ends dancing as they splayed out into the water.

One hand was braced against the side of the tub for support, as the other – heat flooded through Elain at the sight, the sparking embers outside nothing compared to the tidal wave that washed through her, so abruptly she was almost dizzy from it, and she must have gasped, must have made some noise as his eyes flashed open and he pulled his hand away in shock, gripping the side of the tub and moving so quickly that the water rose to the lip and spilled over onto the floor.

"Elain!" he said, voice deep and out of breath, almost a groan. "I, what–"

Voice giving out in surprise, he made a tense aborted movement as if torn between grabbing the towel that lay pooled on the floor and shielding himself from her gaze. Clearing his throat, he tried again: "what are you doing here?"

"I came to check on the house," Elain said, hating how breathy her voice sounded, the tremble in it she knew was forever interpreted as shock, or fear, instead of a burning, consuming desire. "The light was on and I thought maybe. Maybe something had happened," she trailed off uselessly, unable to tear her eyes from his beautifully flushed face.

"I. Oh, yes, I," he paused again, still staring wide eyed as though she was an apparition. "Let me just get out, I –"

"No," she said, too loud in the silent room, taking both herself and Lucien aback.

They stared each other, she could hear his fast heartbeat overlapping with the sound of her own pulse beating in her ears. She took a breath. "Don’t get out on my account."

As the words left her mouth she saw him breathe in sharply, and before he could say anything else she drew all the courage she possessed, strengthened by the desire in her veins, and said "Please. Don’t stop because of me."

He swallowed, eyes darkening even as he dragged himself forward to sit fully upright in the water, holding her gaze.

"Elain."

Just her name on his lips sent a thrill through her, the implicit question in his voice. A request, perhaps even a plea.

"Don’t stop," she said simply, unconsciously holding her breath as she waited for his answer.

The surprise was still lingering on his face, a thousand questions written there, but whatever he saw in her eyes seemed to be enough as he leaned back ever so slowly until he was once again reclining against head of the tub.

They were both silent, both barely breathing, as his hand slowly trailed itself back to where it had been before she interrupted, and she couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop her gaze from flickering down, down, to where he gripped himself again, cock flushed as pink as the blush still adorning his face.

She swallowed almost audibly, eyes snapping back to his.

Permission.

His body loosened and relaxed, bleeding out the tension that her appearance had caused, a small sigh drifting from his lips as he readjusted his hand, shifting in the water to get more comfortable before continuing the slow, dragging movement up and down the length of his shaft.

The water swirled around him, disturbed by the motion, and she watched mesmerised as it glinted golden from the light of the candles on the high shelf behind the tub, the hanging faelights in the air around her.

Watched too as the same water dripped down the length of his forearm every time it lifted out of the water, running in rivulets down the flexing muscles there.

His breath hitched, and she felt behind her ribs that same spark from before, now recognising it for the insistent desire that was coursing through Lucien as he pleasured himself. Cheeks heating, she wondered how much he had felt of her own desperate, late night sessions this past season, if he had felt her need for him as she touched herself.

Considering she had not felt him until they were in the house together, she hoped with embarrassment that it went both ways. She had not had much self-control of late, consumed by thoughts of him almost every night, of his warmth, his scent, the way his strong hands had cradled her head, her waist, as they kissed.

"Gods," he whimpered, and she drew her mind back to the present, watching intently as his eyes fell closed, brow furrowing as his hand sped up. The sound heated the pool of want in her, and it was all she could do to stifle an answering moan, feeling her own body respond.

What would those long, deft fingers feel like against her, she wondered, as she watched them twist over the flushed head of his cock. How well could they take her apart.

The image flew through her mind before she could stop it, him resting between her thighs, staring up at her with a devilish smile as he thrust his fingers inside her, the other hand driving her closer and closer with the pressure against her clit. A vision or a fantasy. Sometimes it was hard to distinguish between the two, but she fervently hoped this one would come true.

"Elain," he said, sounding like he was biting back a groan. She met his eyes again, flush deepening. Of course, as she could feel the sparks of heat as he fisted himself, he would be able to feel her desire from where it had began throbbing between her legs.

She tensed her thighs tighter together in an attempt to lessen the pressure, skirts shifting and sparkling in the low light.

"So good," he murmured, and she felt heat rush through her at the words.

Lucien’s other hand had come down to rest on his thigh, fingers pressing tightly against the smooth skin there, nails digging in just slightly as if he couldn’t control the amount of pressure he was using. Each slick twist of his wrist over his cock had them digging in sharper, and she could feel through the bond flashes of the pleasure-pain that it brought him, feel as it drew him closer to the edge.

Her breathing sped up to match his as his need crested, the slickness between her thighs increasing with each burst of want.

"Elain," he choked, and there was no mistaking the moan in his voice this time.

She dragged her gaze away from his cock to watch as his face twisted in pleasure, unable to keep his eyes open as it consumed him. She felt it, his cresting desire through the bond between them, felt as the tight ache gave way to blindingly clear pleasure, golden and slick and euphoric.

He groaned deep and low in his chest, and she watched him spill over his fist, ropes of thick cum coating his glistening pectorals, his abdomen.

Opening his eyes, he held her gaze, and despite the deep contentment she saw there the intensity and the heat made her squirm. Neither of them spoke for a moment. The ache between her thighs grew steadier and more evident the longer she looked at him. Everything she could think to say felt wrong, too flippant, or too embarrassing, too forward. But she had to say something, the silence becoming unbearable.

“I. I see you made it back alright. From your trip,” she stuttered, wincing internally.

“Indeed, my lady,” Lucin replied, still faintly out of breath, but with a hint of a smirk pulling at his lips.

“That’s…” she cast around for another word, anything at all to say, and came up blank.

He watched her flounder, then smiled.

“Would you hand me a towel, please,” he said, straightening up, flicking a hand to clear the mess from his abdomen and start the tub draining.

Glad to have something to do that didn’t involve staring blankly at him, Elain turned to find a towel in the open cabinet behind her. She took a couple of steadying breaths, trying to calm her racing heart and burning arousal. By the time she turned around she felt slightly more at ease, and he had stepped out of the tub and was standing dripping on the rug.

He held out a hand, expecting her to hand the towel over, but for the second time that night she drew her courage together and stepped closer. Without meeting his eyes, she drew the soft fabric over the skin on his neck, trailing across his shoulder, down his smooth, glistening chest.

When she reached the space below his navel she paused, and he must have read something in the tension that surrounded her because he placed his hand over hers, gently raising it back up to his neck, so that she was made to look up at him.

His expression was so unguarded she felt almost that she shouldn’t be looking, as if she could see every vulnerability within him in that moment.

“You don’t need to do that,” he said gently, still holding her hand, giving it a squeeze.

“I want to,” she said simply. And she did, despite her uncertainty. She wanted to care for him, make him feel good and be made to feel good in return. But how to ask, she had no idea where to start. She felt him take in a breath, and waited.

“Have you … before I mean?”

She knew he wasn’t talking about drying him off, felt his own uncertainty through the bond.

“Yes,” she murmured, watching the flickering light from the candles dance across his cheek and spark in his golden eye.

“I didn’t, I mean, I thought you wanted to wait, a while.”

It was almost endearing to hear him tripping over the words, would even have been amusing if she didn’t feel seconds from collapsing under the weight of her own desire for him.

“I want you, Lucien,” she said, as steadily as she could manage.

He nodded slightly in response, and some of the tension in her melted away. It felt good, not to be questioned, to have him take her at her word. To have him know exactly what she meant, and respond equally.

He kept still, but she could feel his own want for her through the bridge connecting them. It had not dimmed, she realised, not once since she walked through the door.

Feeling bold, she raised the hand not holding the towel and smoothed it over his chest, sliding it along the heated skin there and up over his fine collarbone. Letting her do as she pleased, he titled his neck slightly and she cradled her hand around the back of it, trailing her fingertips over the wet strands of his fiery hair, gripping it.

“If you pull on it, I’ll have to kiss you,” he said, voice low and intoned with humour.

She smiled, the last of her uncertainty seeming to fade away with the action. This was Lucien. Her mate. He knew how to set her at ease, knew how to care for her. He would not push her any further than she wanted to go, nor would he shy away from her desire.

Grinning, she tightened her hold, and pulled him forward.

The first press of their mouths was soft, exploratory. A reassurance as much as a promise of more. After her lips parted and he licked into her mouth, it quickly descended into heat, sparking up her spine as if no time had passed since she had watched him bring himself to climax, need crashing into her again.

She moaned into the kiss, the wet slide of their mouths, the heat of his skin where his arms encircled her, his spiced rich scent invading all of her senses. How could simple kissing make her feel this way, as if she was on fire, as if she burned from the inside, every pore in her body filling with desire for him.

He broke away from her lips with a groan, pressing a burning line of kisses down her throat, stopping only when he met the fabric of her dress.

She wanted him to rip it off her, wanted to feel those lips all over her body, wanted no barrier left between them. But he broke away, kissing her again fiercely as if in response to her thoughts. His hands gripped her waist, pulling her flush against him, and she could feel the heat from his naked body even through the fabric.

Panting, they split apart, her breath coming in quick gasps, and she stared up at him, the pupil in his russet eye blown wide, the blush staining his golden skin, lips parted and wet with their combined spit.

“You’re beautiful,” she said, hushed, and could have sworn surprise flickered behind his eyes before he smiled.

“As are you, Elain,” he said, pressing a tender kiss to her cheek.

Then he dropped to his knees.

---

A/N: Any comments are much appreciated - I've not written for this fandom before so pls be gentle. Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated - part two should hopefully be out soon ;)

[whatishowedyouinthedark]

I love Feyre and Lucien’s development as friends, because it so resembles the tumultuous ups and downs of sibling relationships

They begin at odds with Feyre having killed his friend (who was sent across the wall to die so he’s already heartbroken) and with Lucien needling her and poking her and sending her to maybe be killed by the Suriel (and she almost is by the naga.) okay, now he feels bad, but they’re even.

They basically continue to bicker and tease each other into a begrudging respect of the other that starts to bloom into friendship (meanwhile he’s desperately trying to wingman for Tamlin who doesn’t have a clue)

Then UtM happens, and this little shit of a human gives up her name for him. Lucien sees her in a new light as someone who actually cares for faeries now, and then he saves her during the first trial by giving her a hint where the wyrm is coming from

They still bicker like children over the bargain but theres this understanding between them now. You saved me, I saved you. We’re even now, but also… I care. I care about you and what happens to you. I’m terrified what will happen to you. (I love you like a brother/sister, I never wanted this to happen but now we’re here and it has and we’re fucked)

Lucien drops to his knees when Feyre dies. His first, choked word is ‘No…’ not a cry of freedom—a cry of grief. His little kid sister has just died to save them all. She solved the riddle but it was too late. They were too late. They couldn’t save her.

Then… the after.

Everyone is traumatized, including Lucien. Feyre came back but she didn’t come back whole, and now Lucien is stuck between his two friends who are supposed to be in their happily ever after except no one is happy, and Feyre is drowning. She’s slipping away before his eyes and if she can just hold on a little longer, maybe, if she can just give Tamlin a little more time to heal, maybe…

And Feyre is looking at Lucien from beneath the surface seeing him fighting for her in what little way he can but it’s not enough and the water is closing in around her, down her throat and flooding her lungs, and why isn’t he saving her? Why can’t he do more? That’s what they do now, right? They save each other. Except who’s going to save him, too, when she can barely move or breathe? When she’s slipping through his fingers every day, turning into a ghost before his eyes?

I don’t blame Feyre for feeling betrayed by Lucien when he walks away after Tamlin locks her inside the house. I don’t blame Lucien for walking away. It’s an impossible choice—disobey Tamlin, his friend/saviour/protector/High Lord of centuries, or help his new friend/little sister of a few months. It’s hard to see the abuse when you’re in it. It’s hard to see when a protector has become a jailor, an abuser. I don’t blame him for not seeing it for a while, after she finally leaves for good.

Feyre is understandably angry at Lucien when he tries to “save” her from the night court. He broke their unspoken promise—I save you, you save me. He left her in that house. He walked away. He chose Tamlin over her. And now he’s trying to save her again but it’s for the wrong reasons—why can’t he see that? Why can’t he see how much better she’s doing? The dark circles are gone, she’s stronger, she’s powerful, she’s herself again. Why can’t he be happy for her? You left me. Why did you leave me?

Lucien is understandably terrified for Feyre, and angry at her for leaving. He doesn’t know who to believe at this point—the letter or Tamlin? All he knows is the Night Court’s reputation and that she left him to deal with the train wreck that was his High Lord turned abuser—why did she leave him? She broke their promise—I save you, you save me. We’re supposed to be in this together and you left. Why did you leave us? Why did you leave me?

Acowar is hard on both of them. Feyre is angry. She is furious. Tamlin and Lucien broke the cardinal rule—they brought her family into this. They’re the reason her sisters are traumatized now after being thrown into the Cauldron, for trying to steal her away when she had made it more than clear she doesn’t want to come back, and she will never forgive them.

Lucien knows. He knows Feyre, she’s his sister for gods’ sake, even after everything that’s happened. He’s too smart for her tricks, her scheming, her using him to make Tamlin angry. He sees past the mask into her rage, but a part of him is in it, now, too—her sister, his mate. (They were always going to be siblings, of course they were, it was meant to be. It’s why it hurts so much.) Lucien’s crisis of faith reaches a boiling point, and he finally chooses his new family when despite everything that happens, Feyre smashes the hand of the bitch who touched him, because even when you fight with and hate your siblings only you can hurt them. Gods help anyone else that tries. I save you, you save me.

And so Lucien does. He does what he couldn’t before, what he wasn’t ready to do, and he gets his little sister out. He saves her, even though things aren’t healed between them, even though there are still wounds to close, he saves her, because she’s family now (her sister is his mate, his mate, his mate ) and they’re tied together for real, now. I think the fight with his brothers here is such a beautiful foil to his new choice of siblings—the Archeron sisters, and through them the Night Court, even if he’s still terrified by them and not sure if he can trust them. He’s willing to face the darkness for Elain, he’s willing to walk into it with Feyre, because I save you, you save me. We’re in this together you little shit (I love you, derogatory, begrudgingly, for real.)

Things aren’t perfect. Rhys remembers holding her in his arms after Tamlin locked her inside, how traumatized she was, and Lucien understands. Theres bad blood between them—centuries of it—and Rhys is protective of his mate. Lucien understands that now, too. All he wants is a chance to do the right thing, and his choice to help Feyre get out of the spring court the second time is the beginning of that healing journey, not only between him and Feyre, but Rhys, too. Because they’re brothers, now god damn it, and Rhys knows the protectiveness of a big brother to a little sister well. (It’s why he understands, and eventually forgives Lucien, because Feyre does. And deep down he knows he’d do the same)

He has a long journey to work through things with Elain, but he knows Feyre will always be on his side now (she nudged Elain who piped up and invited him to stay in Velaris at the end of acowar. a little sisterly help from his best wingwoman)

Lucien sitting on the arm of Rhys’ chair chatting about sports with him and Cassian during ACOSF, to me, is the ultimate ending to his arc of becoming Feyre’s brother. Hanging out casually with two males who used to be his sworn, bitter enemies but have become his family, too. And it took a bit, a war, some heartbreak and some all-out fights and licked wounds, but he and Feyre are a part of each other's lives. forever. Their love has passed through every trial and is iron forged, now. Because I save you, you save me.

[the-lonelybarricade]

[yennas-stuff]

I saw @oristian post about how special it will be when Elain finally gives Lucien a solstice gift, and I thought about all the other unresolved things between them. There are so many strings tying them together that need to be explained. We've been given by Sarah these small seeds that would be pointless otherwise, and they can't be explored without Lucien. Seeing how little we know about Elain, we can't move on with her story without resolving them or mentioning what little we have in canon. Not exploring them would mean seriously diluting Elain's character.

(No matter how many times e/riels will say that Elain and Lucien will just reject each other and move on with no looking back and not giving them a chance to get to know each other, it would be a huge disservice to her character and a total disregard of Elain's needs and things she enjoys)

Solstice gift from Elain. (It's significant that Elain was reluctant to even acknowledge Lucien like that, considering how nice and generous she is to others. If she didn't care about Lucien, she would give him something insignificant just to be polite.)

Talking about Papa Archeron and Elain's own feelings toward him. (We know Nesta's and Feyre's thoughts about their father. We need to know her perspective and how his death affected her. Lucien is the only one who met him and talked to him in these last moments of his life)

Traveling to the Continent and seeing tulips. (Lucien traveled all the way through the continent. He could go with her, considering it was something she discussed with her father)

Socializing and throwing parties again. (Both Lucien and Elain enjoy such social events, talking with people, and mingling)

Elain wearing Lucien's gifts. (It would be unsatisfactory if she never wore any of them. Especially the gloves since we know not using them is actively harming her)

THE STEP TOWARDS LUCIEN IN ACOWAR (We need to know what she wanted to say to him or do)

What did she think about to make Lucien blush when he pulled on the bond? (It would be important to get to know her thoughts in that moment. Their bond is not like the others'. They are strangers and yet they are supposed to be soulmates. It's a new thing for acotar)

Why did she feel the need to correct Graysen and tell him Lucien's name?

Why does Elain hear his heartbeat? Was it actually his heartbeat?

What did they talk about when Feyre left them alone for a second in acowar?

Elain and her need for sunshine (How will she get more sunshine in the Night Court?)

Elain exploring her powers (Elain's visions will probably require grounding like Nesta did while scrying. She will need her mate for that)

How the bond is affecting her? What does it feel like to her? (We need to acknowledge i and sjm will not change her lore and make bonds insignificant and easy to ignore. It would also be an amazing way to address the agency and choice within mating bonds.)

We could probably go on with these but let's keep it condensed. We as readers need to know the answers. The simple *she doesn't care about Lucien* is not how you write a story. That's how you cope with the lack of knowledge about the inner thoughts of a character to write fanfiction and go straight to smut with a noncanon pairing.

[starsreminisce]

Tell me when you knew,” (Lucien) demanded, his knee pressing into mine. “That Rhysand was your mate. Tell me when you stopped loving Tamlin and started loving him instead.”

I chose not to answer.

“Was it going on before you even left?”

I whipped my head to him, even if I could barely make out his features in the dark. “I never touched Rhysand like that until months later.”

“You kissed Under the Mountain.”

“I had as little choice in that as I did in the dancing.”

“And yet this is the male you now love.” HE IS SO REAL FOR ALL OF THIS

Lucien is literally going through the same thing as Feyre did, and it's easy to forget that Feyre had only just accepted the mating bond a few days before she went back to the Spring Court.

Lucien just received confirmation that his mate wasn't the one his father murdered—the one he was so convinced was his mate that he left his court over it. She never was. Feyre spent a significant portion of ACOMAF waiting for her mating bond to snap with Tamlin and didn't believe that her mate was Rhys because she didn't see herself as his equal.

But the hurt and guilt I expected weren’t there. Lucien slowly released his grip. “I need to find her.” “You don’t even know Elain. The mating bond is just a physical reaction overriding your good sense.” “Is that what it did to you and Rhys?”

This exchange too stood out because of what made Feyre finally figured out that she was mated to Rhys:

Because he’d been injured, and I’d gone out of my mind—absolutely insane—when he’d been taken from me, shot out of the sky like a bird. I’d acted on instinct, on a drive to protect him that had come from so deep in me … So deep in me—

Feyre used both skills she developed when she was human (forever iconic using her scent on Rhys's fingers to track him) and shapeshifting from Tamlin despite her reservations to track him down. This mirrors Lucien using his hidden powers to get to Elain.

Sometimes I do wonder if Lucien started getting doubts that Jesminda was his mate and that's why he became ridden with guilt. Perhaps he started having visions or dreams of Elain after UTM, similar to how Rhys did with Feyre before she came over the wall. He also started to pull away from his usual dallying to put a hard stop on Ianthe. The combination of seeing Feyre die and come back to life because of the mating bond might have forced him to face the truth that Jesminda wasn't his mate. Feyre was resurrected due to the bond, while Jesminda was not.

Lucien was well within his rights to question this. Why was he able to react in such a way for someone he never met before but not for the female he loved? The only person who could have helped him process it would have been Feyre, but I don't think Feyre could explain it in a way that Lucien would understand, especially when it's still new to her. We see this when she asked Rhys why Azriel wasn't Elain's mate, seeing Elain and Azriel sitting quietly together, and knowing Lucien isn't someone like that. It's telling that the more she started to understand being someone's mate and being mated to someone, she never brought up Azriel and Elain again, even in her own POV.

As for Lucien, he finally understood when Elain turned to him and he took in her face. Lucien and Elain will always have this pull towards each other, will always have a tug, will always know the other better than anyone else can compare because they have a literal soul-bridge to each other. But it still takes two people to make it work.

The revelation of the mating was always the confirmation of being endgame. It doesnt matter when it was revealed.

Love this quote, thank you for reminding me!

[starsreminisce]

Elain in ACOTAR

She shrugged her slim shoulders. “People acted as if we’d all just been ill for eight years, or had gone away to some distant country—not that we’d been a few villages over in that cottage. You’d think we dreamed it all up, what happened to us over those years. No one said a word about it.” “Did you think they would?” If we were as rich as this house suggested, there were surely plenty of families willing to overlook the stain of our poverty. “No—but it made me … made me wish for those years again, even with the hunger and cold. This house feels so big sometimes, and father is always busy, and Nesta …” She looked over her shoulder to where my eldest sister stood by a gnarled mulberry tree, looking out over the flat expanse of our lands.

Lucien in ACOWAR

As if sensing my thoughts, Lucien said, “You don’t need to waste your time convincing me. I get it. I get … I get that we were not what you wanted. Or needed. How small and isolated our home must have been for you, once you saw this.” He jerked his chin toward the city, where lights were now sparking into view amid the falling twilight. “Who could compare?”

I love how Elain and Lucien both expressed essentially the same sentiment to Feyre about what they thought was enough. Elain mentioned how the house felt big, and I can imagine how she must feel now in the River House, with Feyre busy in her art studio and Nesta living in the House of Wind.

Lucien, on the other hand, tried to make sense of why Feyre would leave the Spring Court because he felt what they had there was enough until he saw the splendor of the Night Court. It's important to note that this was before Lucien came face-to-face with Elain.

Sometimes I like to think that Lucien doesn't feel like he is enough for Elain—not enough to provide for her, not stable enough to give her a home, unsure of where he belongs, and not wanting to drag Elain down with his mess. But then, Elain comes back to tell him that he is enough and that they'll figure it out together, as long as he involves her.

This understated similarity between them—their shared and expressed idea of what makes a home—is significant. Both believe that it's not the size of the home that matters but the moments inside it.

It's telling that they are both struggling to define what a home means to them right now, and how they'll both realize that they'll find home within each other.

[acourtofthought]

Random Musings inspired by conversations I was having with @acourtdelaluna

Do you remember in ACOWAR how Cassian and Feyre spoke of Nesta on multiple occasions? How Feyre asked if Cassian would use Nesta to fix the wall and spoke of the day she was changed, to which Cassian responded that he'd never forget those moments as long as he lived. How Cassian mentioned to Feyre how Nesta is always pissed at him, how he didn't think Nesta would ever forgive him for what happened in Hybern, how staying cooped up would destroy her, with Feyre asking how often he'd been up to see her, with Feyre asking why he even bothered and he said because he couldn't stay away, that he'd headed to the Carver with Feyre because he wanted to see if the Carver knew what Nesta had become to which Feyre asked if he'd be afraid of her if she was Death.

There are multiple interactions where Feyre and Cassian speak of Nesta well before SF.

Do you remember in ACOWAR and ACOFAS how Lucien and Feyre spoke of Elain on multiple occasions? Where Lucien wanted to learn about Elain through Feyre, where Lucien asked when he'd be allowed to see her, when he asked that she let him help, when he insisted they get her outside and suggested a healer, when he spoke of tugging on the bond, when he asked if she still mourned Graysen and how she was doing, when he was telling her how Elain wants nothing to do with him, when Feyre tells him to give her time, when Feyre tells Elain that Lucien is a good male.

Sure Feyre has thoughts about Elain and Az but she also has thoughts about Elain and Lucien. Yet it's only with Lucien that she actually talks about Elain just like she spoke about Nesta with Cassian and it's only from Lucien that we see him speak to others about Elain just like we saw Cassian discuss Nesta with Feyre.

When you compare that to Az, he's never once spoken about Elain to anyone, never expressed interest in her state of mind, seeing how she was, if she was struggling after the loss of Graysen or her fathers death, and Elain has never spoken about Az with anyone.

Nesta noted a charged look between Elain and Az but never addressed it with him. Nesta noted Az being Gwyn's new ribbon and was sure to bring it up to him.

It seems pretty apparent that the relationships that are meant to be the focus for the sisters are the ones that Feyre is most involved in.

Feyre is the middle, the go between when it comes to her sisters because even though the original trilogy was about her journey, they were a huge part of it. Therefore the ones her sisters end up with should also be strongly connected to Feyre. We've seen both Cassian and Lucien turn to her about Nesta and Elain on multiple occasions but not Az, he's never sought out Feyre in relation to Elain. In fact, SF reinforces that Feyre and Az are not all that close. Of course they like one another, they care for one another but SF doubled down on Cassian and Feyre's friendship while it built up Nesta and Az's friendship. In SF we were reminded that Feyre had been afraid of Az at first. In SF we see Feyre upset with Az for his torture of the soldiers. In SF we see Az disrespect Feyre's orders and brood when he has to obey. And in the novella and her SF bonus we see Feyre thinking about Elain and Lucien, Az doesn't cross her mind in relation to a romance for her sister.

In HOFAS we see even more development between Az and Nesta, two characters who have not once brought Elain up in conversation. When you consider that Nesta already teased Az about Gwyn that to me suggests that any future relationship conversations would be between Nesta and Az in regards to Gwyn or Nesta and Gwyn in regards to Az in the same way we saw Cassian and Feyre in regards to Nesta and Lucien and Feyre in regards to Elain.

Sarah once spoke of the crazy friendship chemistry that existed between Lucien and Feyre. We saw her give the same treatment to Feyre and Cassian while building the Nesta / Az friendship in SF and HOFAS, pushing Feyre and Az further apart.

Crazy friendship chemistry with Lucien and Cassian sets those characters up nicely to become Feyre's future brother in laws, both mates to her sisters. Lucien and Feyre have experienced ups and downs throughout the series but why would Sarah throw away the friendship which started in book 1 and continued throughout the series only to have him end up with Vassa which gives him no reason to see Feyre on the regular?

Crazy friendship chemistry with Az sets Nesta up to interact with him regularly considering Gwyn is her found family, her "sister" and he helps train the Valkyrie, a storyline that Feyre has nothing to do with, that Elain has nothing to do with.

As with everything Elucien and Gwynriel, the pairings make the most sense. Not only for the relationships themselves but how the pairings effect those around them. There's no need for anyone to have to accept a life without a mate, no need for anyone to have to accept that their LI has a bond with someone else, the friendships with their in-laws would already well established, none of the main characters end up burning bridges with allies because they'd rather sneak around rather than having a mature conversation about what they want.

[highladyofhewncity]

𝔉𝔢𝔯𝔞𝔩 𝔓𝔯𝔬𝔱𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔬𝔯: 𝔈𝔩𝔞𝔦𝔫'𝔰 𝔚𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔥

Based on this post by @mr-agent-mulder

. . .

The air crackled with tension, a tangible force that seemed to press down on Elain's chest, squeezing the air from her lungs.

Her hands trembled with fury as she surveyed the scene before her, her eyes narrowing into slits of blazing sorrel.

Lucien lay crumpled on the ground, a halo of blood staining the earth beneath him. The sight ignited a fire within Elain, a fierce rage that burned hot and wild, consuming her from the inside out. How dare they hurt him? How dare they lay a hand on her mate? Her Mate .

With a primal roar, she surged forward, her movements jerky and erratic, like a wounded animal lashing out in pain.

Her nails clawed at the air, desperate to tear flesh and draw blood, to inflict the same agony upon his assailants that they had inflicted upon her Lucien.

Her teeth gnashed together in a snarl, bared in a feral display of defiance. Every muscle in her body tensed with the need to protect, to defend, to unleash the full force of her wrath upon those who dared to threaten her mate.

They tried to restrain her, to pull her away from him, but she fought back with a savagery that shocked even herself.

Her screams filled the air, a cacophony of rage and anguish that echoed through the night, a symphony of fury.

Her vision blurred with tears of frustration and anger, I didn't get enough time with him, to know him, to breathe all of him in. And now, the very thought filled her with a resentful anger, a lament for the moments stolen and the love left unexplored.

Her mind consumed by a single, overwhelming thought : protect him. Shield him from harm. Keep him safe at all cost , for she would burn the world and all its occupants to ashes if it kept him warm . Such is the savageness of love, fierce and unyielding, willing to defy the very fabric of existence for the one we hold dear.

And so she fought on, her movements fueled by a primal instinct that surpassed reason and logic.

She spat curses and insults, her words dripping with venom as she lashed out at anyone who dared to come near, her body a whirlwind of violence and fury.

In that moment, Elain was no longer the sweet and gentle maiden she had once been. She was a force of nature, a tempest of rage and vengeance, a fierce protector who would stop at nothing to ensure the safety of the one she loved.

And as she stood there, her chest heaving with exertion, her hands stained with blood, she knew that she would do whatever it took to keep Lucien safe, even if it meant tapping into the darkest depths of her own soul. For Lucien, For Him, For Her Mate.

[prythiansfavoritefox]

I was still mulling over all he said when I slipped into my tent to finally change out of my leathers, leaving him and Elain to go find a place to wash up. And talk—perhaps.

Did you ever wonder what was said between the two of them? Well I wrote what I imagined transpired between them!

Lucien and Elain went to another tent, carrying buckets of water with them to wash themselves. Lucien had noticed for a relatively small woman, she packed a surprising amount of strength in her body. All that gardening must have paid off.

He hardly had any idea what to say to her. That had never been a problem for him in the past. He always knew the right thing to say in every situation, even if he didn't always say it (like with Amarantha). But with Elain...words simply left his brain. It was maddening. Cauldron knew he wanted to talk to her, but he didn't know how.

He hadn't failed to notice how Elain had deflected the kill of the King of Hybern to Nesta, even though it was her shot that had ultimately led to his demise. She might not have beheaded him, but she ultimately was the cause of his death. She must know that. But Elain, Lucien observed, was far more peaceful than her sisters. Perhaps the idea of taking another's life was abhorrent to her. That, at least, he could understand. Perhaps there was some sense in their mating bond, after all.

"You're staring," Elain pointed out. Lucien snapped out of his thoughts. "I-er-sorry." Lucien pinched his nose. This was going disastrously. "I was just thinking."

She tilted her head like a curious doe. "Of what?" She placed the large bucket in her arms down, picking up a small bucket to scoop water with to wash her hands.

Shutting up was not Lucien's strong suit, so naturally, the only option was to nervously ramble. "That I am guessing the King of Hybern was your first kill, and I know you despise violence, and so do I, but it's something that unfortunately we have to do under extreme circumstances, and I just wanted to say, that I understand your reluctance to accept that kill. I cried a lot the first time I took a life, and especially after Jesminda, violence disturbs me."

Elain peered at him with those curious eyes again. "Who is Jesminda?"

Lucien internally cursed himself for his inability to shut the fuck up. Not that he wished to hide Jesminda from her, but...he did not wish to speak of her at this time.

"My...well, she was to be my wife. Long ago. Unfortunately, that did not turn out well for either of us."

"Your father killed her?"

Lucien blinked. "How did you know?"

Elain shrugged. "Lucky guess." How the hell was that a lucky guess? He wondered what stories Feyre had told Elain about him. Had she spoken all about his father? Not like Feyre knew all that much about Beron herself.

Just then, Elain began to unbutton her shift. Lucien couldn't control his blush. "Yeah, well, I'll just..." then Lucien pointed in the opposite direction. Elain ignored him. Lucien cursed himself. There was no need to say anything in that situation. Motherfucking idiot. He quickly stripped and began to bathe in the water he had. He tried to ignore the sounds Elain made behind him, focusing on his own shower, but silence bothered him, and his stupid tongue desired to speak again.

"I understand if you're hesitant about the mating bond," he began. Still nothing.

"I just wanted to say...well you're immortal now. And I'm also immortal. You have all the time to decide what you want to do."

He finished off and began to reach for his towel, determinedly avoiding looking at Elain. As he dried himself off, she softly said, "You can look now."

Cautiously, Lucien turned towards her. "Thank you," she said. "For giving me space." She took a deep breath. "I-well, you know I was to be married. I still love him, but I know now that he never loved me." A little steel entered her eyes and her next words were colder. "Otherwise, he would've never rejected me so heartlessly simply because my body changed."

Rage took hold of Lucien's body, a desire to rip Graysen to shreds for having ever claimed Elain, for daring to hurt her feelings in such a heartless way. An uncontrollable mating instinct. He grit his teeth and clenched his fists, weathering the instinct. Deep breaths. One. Two. Finally, he managed to gain a hold of himself enough to speak. "If it makes you feel better, he's ugly and stupid with an eternal stick up his ass," Lucien suggested.

To his relief, Elain burst out laughing. "That does make me feel quite a bit better." Lucien felt a surge of confidence, the last of his anger dissipating, and he gave a bow. "I am at your service m'lady." Elain smiled. "Duly noted, m'lord." Something in his chest sparked at that.

My lord, she had called him.

Her lord.

Her mate.

Her Lucien.

[lectoradefics]

🤢🤢😖😖

I hate the Tamlin/Lucien couple, everything romantically related to that couple makes me cringe 🤢🤢🤢 I respect tastes, but I had to say it. I'll move on when I see something related to that. Does it only happen to me?

[works-of-heart]

“A way out of Darkness”

An Elucien fan comic/manga.

I hope you guys enjoyed it! I had this in my mind for quite some time and felt I had to draw it! =D

[works-of-heart]

The son of Helion, the sly fox, the man who can command an Illyrian soldier with one word, Elain Archeron's mate, Lucien "I'm a mated male" Vanserra, whatever you call him, he's HOT! Elain is one lucky lady

I pulled from several references of Lucien and sun gods to bring this vision to life. =D