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"And yet I found myself deciding that if you took his hand, I would find a way to live with it. It would be your choice."
I sipped from my wine. "And if he had grabbed me?"
There was nothing but uncompromising will in his eyes. "Then I would have torn apart the world to get you back."
-A Court of Mist and Fury
Lucien steals Feyre away from the safety of the Night Court as she and Rhys train in the Illyrian Steppes. Winnowing her to the Spring Court and Tamlin, Feyre must contend with the consequences of leaving while held against her will.
An ACOMAF Chapter 47 divergence.
Thanks to @witch-and-her-witcher and @foundress0fnothing for beta reading and giving me amazing advice!
It’s my birthday and…
This is a lil dramatic divergence I’ve been working on for far, far too long. So now it’s your problem!
Chapter under the cut or Read on AO3.
Lucien moved us, again and again through the fabric of the world, his face straining and sweat dripping from his forehead. I screamed and wrenched against him as we winnowed further and further south, barely glimpsing the changing seasons as he pulled us through the courts. I could only tell the distance by the air against my face: a brush of heat, the blast of an icy wind. The misty mountains of Illyria trailing further behind us as he dragged me south.
I knew where he was taking me. My body screamed as I clawed and fought, useless now against his iron grip, and the further we got the more I felt that something inside me had turned brittle and was ready to break.
Rhys. Rhys. Rhys.
Where are you?
My skull was a prison, my mind trapped within. Just moments earlier it had been free - scanning the little blur of impressions from birds and rabbits in the woods, reaching out to listen, shivering from the brush of the other mind that nuzzled against me, and asked me and played with me.
I felt for that bridge, for that gentle pulse around my chest, once so tangible I thought I could feel it as strong as my own heart.
But there was nothing. I was empty - hollow. All my magic had poured out, and Rhys along with it. No cunning amusement, no smiles or violet eyes teasing at the edges of my mind.
No Illyrian warrior to draw me back from this hell.
As we whipped through the courts, I knew with growing horror what awaited me at the end of this journey. A scream was building within me and I didn’t know if it would come out through my mouth or simply keep building inside me until I burst.
⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰
Ten Minutes Earlier…
I didn’t hear the dripping of melting snow, the rush of the creek, or the howling of the wind. Not against the rush of blood in my ears.
Lucien. He found me. But –
“Feyre,” Lucien whispered, his red hair like a beacon in this black and white forest of ice.
In a blink, we weren’t alone. Spring Court sentries dressed in black and covered in weapons banked him on each side.
“Lucien. You shouldn’t be here.” The rushing river inched closer to me as I risked a single step, my stomach churning as he followed me forward, his boot crunching through the frozen top layer of snow.
His hand extended to me. No weapon in his palm, but he didn’t need one - now that I had trained my own powers, I could feel his own thrumming under his skin. The flesh of my arm prickled in warning. I wondered if the icy winter of this place would dim him, or if he could still set the forest ablaze, as I had with Autumn Court fire just yesterday.
“Put down the bow, Feyre. I’m here to take you home.” His voice was soft, strangely gentle.
“Don’t touch me,” I said, my voice firmer than I felt.
My mind was churning like the river, my thoughts a frantic blur against the blood rushing in my ears. Lucien. How had he found me? And Tamlin - gods, was he here? I haven’t used my powers in battle yet - what if someone gets hurt? What if I’m not ready? Rhys - he had to be close - would the High Lords rip this forest apart?
As if in answer, my shield dropped that small space we opened for each other, a tendril of my dark power spearing into the air.
Rhys! -I shouted into the void, just as the red paint stroke of Lucien folded into nothing. So quick I didn’t even take another breath of the cold Illyrian Steppes before his warm hand was on mine, and he had snatched me away into the space between worlds.
When we appeared again, we were still in the Steppes but somewhere higher - the air colder, the fog thick in the air.
I was going to scream, I was going to tear at him, but before I could even think, my power was coiling and twisting under my skin.
Lucien - my friend, whose life was in my debt three times over, had taken me. Was dragging me back - to him. The full length of Prythian wasn’t enough to escape it - this rot in the Spring Court, that gave them over to this haughty entitlement, this feeling of possession over me…
I swallowed the cold air into my lungs, letting the ice and panic hone my senses. With an exhale I threw my mind out to the forest like a swift wave, my body seeking his.
Where are you?
The grip of Lucien’s hands on my wrist was crushing. But my bones and joints shifted under his grasp as my fingers elongated and claws began to form, dark like black onyx. Fangs sprang to my mouth and I wasn’t even sure what I was turning into, just that I was in danger, I was angry and I was going to explode. Lucien wasn’t paying attention, was scanning the forest desperately, panting with exertion as I raised a clawed hand in the air.
“Fuck!”
But he was more prepared than I - using his grip on me to pull my body forward and off balance as he dipped to the ground and rolled out of my stumbling reach.
My jaw was widening, bones were popping and transforming in odd ways that probably should have been painful, but I wasn’t aware of such things. Anger burned through me and I felt my canines scrape against my lip as I roared, roared.
On the ground, Lucien turned pale as he scrambled backwards in the snow.
“Holy Mother,” he whispered, and threw something into my face.
Blue powder exploded against my cheek as the small satchel burst. Blue powder down my lungs like sharp metal dust, scratching and burning deep into my chest.
Whatever bones and sharp edges I was growing winked away in an instant, like a candle snuffed out. I didn’t feel the snow as I pitched forward, coughing and choking on the powder and the sudden breathless snap of my power disappearing within me.
In between the rasping coughs, I felt a silence, a cold and empty room within my mind - not a shielded space of mine, but a void of nothing.
Lucien gripped my wrist firmly as I coughed and sputtered, reaching over and over again inside of me for the power that was now gone.
“What did you do?” I screamed, the powder burning in my lungs.
“You’re not yourself, Feyre,” he said, breathless and shaking. He held my arm like a vise but kept me at the edge of his arm’s reach. “This is to protect you as much as me.” Maybe it was wishful thinking, but he didn’t sound entirely convinced. He was as tense as I had ever seen him - scanning the white and black landscape around us, a subtle glow coming from him, trying to pierce through the fog.
“We’ll get you free of him, Feyre,” Lucien whispered now, like we were being watched. I desperately hoped we were - imagined deathly black wings and piercing violet eyes descending on us through the haze –
The air around me whipped away into darkness as Lucien winnowed us from the Steppes.
⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰
When we landed in Spring, on the cobblestones in front of the manor, Lucien and I collapsed.
He was on his back beside me, chest heaving, gasping for air.
It couldn’t have taken more than ten minutes.
Birds were singing in the forest beyond, the sounds becoming clearer as my breathing slowed. A warm, gentle breeze blew over us. A peaceful spring day, a mockery of the fear and anger burning inside me like a forest fire.
My muscles shook and I heard my quiver of arrows clatter against my back.
She didn’t want me to rely on my powers alone, that gentle voice echoed back at me.
I had been human, when I first walked these paths and up these stairs. No powers or even decent senses to speak of. Ridiculous, how much I’d come to rely on them.
Now I had two Illyrian knives strapped to my thighs.
In an instant they were in my hands, and I leapt onto Lucien with a snarl.
He barely caught my arm in time and my shaking limbs fought against him, pressing forward, the knife in my hand shaking above his head.
“How dare you!” I screamed, spittle flying into his face.
“Tam!” he bellowed. Even without my powers he struggled against me, my knee on his ribcage, my sweat dripping onto his pale strained face. “Ow, Feyre, Cauldron, stop –”
Bruising hands wrenched my arms and legs into the air, restraining me. Someone loosened my fingers one by one until the knives clattered to the ground as I thrashed.
I scented him before I saw him. Grass and rain and roses.
My body froze, my heart stuttering. A wave of something cold and prickling traveled down my skin as the sentries set me on my feet in front of him, my arms still in their wrenching grip.
Tamlin stood, rooted to the ground at the foot of the manor. His face had gone white, his eyes wide and blazing as he looked at me. An outfit of green and gold, a blur of muscles and power.
“Feyre,” he said gently. As if he had run into me unexpectedly, as if I was a ghost haunting the woods. As if he hadn’t sent Lucien and his sentries to take me.
The sight of him after so many months - his face so familiar yet so estranged, made anger and terror mix together into something sickly and thick in my body, dripping down my stomach like acid.
The last time I was here, I had been a prisoner. Locked inside until the walls choked the breath from me.
“No,” I whispered, my limbs beginning to shake. Moments ago my body was buzzing, humming like a panicked animal. Now I was frozen. My mind went black except for the steady chant inside of no no no no…
“Let her go,” Tamlin growled, that High Lord power of his command compelling even me to tremble. I was set down gently on the stones, my knees giving way, every part of me shaking.
Tamlin stalked towards me, the beast within him cautious, his eyes wide. An apex predator, his eyes never leaving my face.
“Feyre,” he said again, striding closer. “You’re back. You’re free.”
You’re free, Mor’s voice whispered in my mind.
Something in me jolted and I scrambled back from him on the cobblestones. I didn’t get far until my back was up against the legs of one of the sentries. I hated this trembling fear in me. I was a wolf, I was the Cursebreaker, I was made from all seven courts. But here I was nothing more than a trapped rabbit.
The High Lord kneeled in front of me, extending a hand, palm down, so similar to Lucien in the woods. Tentative, calming.
Like I was a feral creature to be tamed.
“What have you done,” I said, swallowing down a sob in my throat.
Finally, his eyes left me and flickered to Lucien, now standing behind him, his hand wary on the jeweled hilt of his sword.
“We found her in the northern woods,” Lucien replied to his silent question. “I winnowed, but her powers…I had to use the faebane.”
A muscled jaw clenched tightly, as Tamlin looked back at me. He was thinner than I remembered him - the lines of his muscles under his tunic stark, his cheekbones sharp against his sallow skin.
“Was he there?” he asked Lucien, still staring into my face.
“I didn't see him, but he was close. We got out before he could interfere.”
I needed my powers - my strength, my weapons. But not even my body would obey me now.
Come find me, come get me
“You’re home, Feyre. We’re going to help you,” Tamlin’s voice waivered, and he swallowed thickly. “He’s in your mind, but we’re going to get him out.”
Something cracked inside my chest. The birds were singing and a sweet scent was in the air and I was terrified and alone. Hot tears were running down my cheeks.
“No, he’s not,” my voice was saying, but I was far away. “He’s gone.”
Tamlin furrowed his brows at me. I could see the pain on his face, in his forest green eyes. As if I was hurting him.
He stared at me for a long moment, as I willed my tears to stop, as I willed them to turn to waves of the ocean or daggers of ice. But no power echoed in my blood, my bones. I was an animal, caught fully in their trap.
The High Lord of Spring reached for me and I felt the scrape of phantom claws on my skin, the bruise from Lucien’s grip still burning onto my wrist –
“Don’t touch me!”
Tamlin’s face was white with shock, and something like devastation. He froze before me with what seemed like an eternity.
“Bring her inside,” he finally said.
And I was hauled up by my arms and carried back into the manor, prison bound once more.
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
My contribution for @elucienweekofficial. Chapters will be posted daily!
Read on AO3 or click the links below to read on tumblr!
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
Read on AO3 ・ Series Masterlist ・ Previous Chapter
-
4 years later
Time was a linear thing to most people.
But inside the forest's heart, time stood still.
At last, the overlapping tides of past and present and future were no longer in perpetual push and pull against the shores of Elain's mind. There was only here. And here was a cottage with a hearth, and a roof, and a loving family.
Here was a shelter. A bubble of peace separating them from a world that had possessed so little good.
Do you ever blame the forest, she'd once asked Lucien's mother, for keeping us trapped here?
How could I? She'd replied. The forest has brought me everything I've ever loved.
It was easier for Elain to let go of her anger when she had reflected on this. On how the forest had brought her to Lucien, and Lucien had in turn brought her to the forest. They were all interconnected through roots of fate that stretched to ancient reaches of Prythian, perhaps all the way back to the Cauldron itself. She could hold the forest no more accountable than she could hold the moon or the sea. It was only doing what it had been created to do—searching for sunlight. Searching for warmth.
And there was so much of it here, now that it had brought them together.
"You have that look your face," Lucien noted, sitting up from the pile of furs they used as their bed. They had retired for the evening to their bedroom—a space that Lucien had taken upon himself to build so that they could have their privacy. "What are you thinking about?"
"Fate. What a peculiar thing it is and how, despite it all, I find myself very thankful for it."
His eyes held a tempting softness—the kind that practically begged her to fall into his body and relish his touch. She was moments from doing so when he asked, "Have you worked it out, yet?"
This gave her pause. "Worked out what?"
"What I've known from the moment I met you."
A secret between them was a rare. Talking was how they entertained themselves most days, which meant there was scarcely a thought that Elain didn't share with her husband, and she'd believed the reverse to be true. Except he was staring at her, now, with a gravity that suggested otherwise.
In her chest, his heart stuttered a beat.
She tipped her head to the side, thinking. "That the forest drew us together?"
"Yes, but I'm referring to the reason why." There was something endearingly boyish about the shy smile he gave her—a look she did not often associate with her impish husband, and more fuel for her curiosity. "Do you truly not know? I thought you were the seer between us."
"I don't know what you're talking about, Lucien."
"I'm talking about how I belong to you." His hand closed around hers, their combined attention dropping to the dainty ring she wore on her finger as his thumb brushed over it. "And you belong to me."
"Yes." Elain waited for him to say more, but he finished there, as if it was a great revelation.
Her brows scrunched. She was growing impatient with his opaque meaning. "Lucien, what are you—"
"There's a word for it, Elain. You've never used it. I thought, in time, it would become as obvious to you as it is to me. Do you not… feel it?"
There, in her chest, where she felt that second heartbeat thundering against her ribs. A pull. The same sensation that had drawn her to the forest on the night they met. She had felt it many, many times, as if someone were tugging on a string. She'd always intuitively known Lucien was on the other end.
"I feel it," she said, still frowning. "But what should I be working out?"
His laugh was colored in shades of exasperation and fondness. "That you're my mate, Elain."
Mate. Oh, yes. She'd forgotten there was a word for it. The connection between them. Elain had always felt its presence, but had come to simply associate it with Lucien. Where he went, a piece of her soul followed, and that was how it had always been.
She giggled. "You think I didn't know?"
"You've never said anything about it!"
"But it's so obvious," she protested. "Do you need me to tell you what color the sky is, next?"
Lucien groaned. "Insufferable female! I've been waiting for you to say something about it for years."
"We're already married," she pointed out. "It changes very little."
He huffed. "I suppose you're right." Again, his thumb rolled over her wedding band. He had a habit of touching it, and she knew from the soft look in his eyes that the mere sight of it pleased him. "You'll always be my wife, above all else."
It was some time later, after they had fallen into bed together, and Elain was draped naked over his chest, when Lucien brought it up again.
"When you were talking about fate earlier—what were you thinking on, if not our mating bond?"
Elain gave a lazy shrug, already suspended halfway between the realm of waking and sleeping. The slow drag of his long fingers through her hair was not helping matters.
"I was thinking of the forest," she said, nuzzling her face deeper into his neck. The smell of him was stronger there, cedarwood and nectar. "And how bringing us here was, in its own way, a gift."
"A gift…" He hummed in thought, and she felt the vibrations in all the places their skin was flush. "Every gift has its strings, I suppose. But I'd pay any price if it meant meeting you."
"Would you want to leave?" She asked on a yawn. "If It was possible?"
"That would depend."
"On what?"
"Whether you would come with me. Wherever you go, I will follow. Always."
-
Elain didn't intend to mull over what was, really, a hypothetical question.
If she could leave the forest, would she want to?
It was not helpful to dread on things she could not change. The forest meant safety. And memories. And love. But when Helion's last visit brought unexpected news from Autumn, she couldn't help but ruminate.
Beron Vanserra was dead.
Lucien's eldest brother, Eris, would inherit the title of High Lord, and Lucien was certain Eris had no interest in searching for his father's long lost "treasure" or exiled son.
There was no reason to hide anymore. But there was still a reason to stay.
Elain had loved their time in the cottage. Days were slow, but never unfulfilled. She spent her mornings gardening beside Lucien's mother and her evenings curled up in her husband's arms. But Elain still missed her sisters. And Lucien's mother missed Helion on the days he had to leave—for he always had to leave, as heir to a court of his own.
With Beron dead, the only thing tethering them to the cottage were the memories they didn't want to lose.
Over the years, they had trialed various methods of overcoming the curse, but each was met with disappointing results. If Helion tried bottling the pool to carry with him on his journey, its contents evaporated into mist before he could step out of lantern's light. Ingesting it proved ineffective, as did soaking items in its water to wear on his person.
They'd been forced to accept that leaving the cottage would mean leaving behind all the lovely memories they had made within its walls. But that did not mean Elain stopped wondering what sort of life could be waiting for them out there.
"If we have children here, they'll want to leave one day." This was becoming a never-ending conversation, these what ifs and buts and maybes, perpetually talking themselves in and out of going. Elain knew Lucien was only absently listening, and she was really just musing out loud. "They'll have to if they want to meet someone. And if they're anything like I was, they'll sneak into the forest the moment they have the opportunity, heedless of any warnings we give them. What if we lose our child in the forest?"
"You want to have children?" Lucien asked, lowering the basket he'd been weaving from thin strips of boiled oak.
Elain cast him a chiding look. "Is that all you heard?"
His pupils had gone a bit wide. "As in, now?"
"Are you even listening?" She picked up an errant twig and chucked it at his head, which he caught with infuriating ease. "I'm saying that I don't think we should if we're going to stay here."
He swallowed. "So you're saying—you want to have children, now? Just not here?"
"You're impossible." With a huff, Elain dusted off her skirt and rose to her feet. "I'm going to go find your mother. She won't go baby crazy on me."
Lucien snorted. "You don't think she'd seize any and all chances for grandchildren? If you're not careful, she'll shove us in a room together and lock the door."
"Well…" Elain bit her lip. "That doesn't sound so bad."
Now the basket was being tossed aside altogether. Lucien had a dark look in his eyes, one that always made her feel a bit like wax venturing too close to a flame. Her knees were already losing function, her insides turning lose and molten. If she didn't escape now, she'd become a puddle that he would peel off the floor and toss onto the nearest bed.
Which again… didn't sound like the worst thing.
"Get into our bedroom, Elain."
"W-why?"
His predatory stare took a turn for something smug. "Because the last time I fucked you in the garden, you were mortified that my mother—"
Elain squeaked and darted forward to cover his mouth. "You promised not to bring that up again!"
The grin peaking beneath her fingers was utterly shameless.
"Then go lay on our bed like a good girl, and I'll give you exactly what you've asked for."
Oh, goddess. Elain suddenly doubted her legs would be able to take her that far. They were trying to pull her towards the earth, practically saying, Why not just let him take you right here? And if it weren't for the fact that her mother-in-law need only glance out the kitchen window to see what they were doing, Elain might have let him.
But before she could force her legs to obey, she heard an exclamation from inside the cottage. It was one of joy, and was accompanied by the rumble of a dark voice that announced Helion had returned from his most recent venture to the Day Court. He would not remember why a red-haired woman was flinging herself into his arms and peppering his face with kisses, but he never seemed terribly inconvenienced by it, either.
"Looks like making children might have to wait," she said coyly.
Lucien's stare was blistering. "Only until I get you alone."
-
Helion's visit brought with it the typical updates from the outside world. How Autumn Court was faring since Eris took the throne, an upcoming wedding in the Spring Court, the latest fashion trends in Day (which he'd brought as gifts).
When it was time to go, he asked the same question he always did.
"Are you sure you can't come with me?" He was looking at Lucien's mother, but the question was addressed to all of them. "If I write myself a note, you know I'll honor it. My heart always recognizes you before my mind does, anyway."
This was where Lucien's mother usually looked to Lucien and Elain. At some point, it had become clear that she was ready to leave, but she would not do so if it meant leaving her son behind. Never again.
But she did not look at Lucien and Elain this time. Nor was she looking at Helion. Instead, her gaze was transfixed on the lantern.
"We've never tried moving it," she whispered, her head tilted as though she were listening to something.
Elain listened, too.
Try it, said the wind, rustling through the trees. We have kept you long enough.
Helion unhooked the lantern, his expression intrigued. "Shall I take it with me as another test?"
The forest, like many of the Mother's creatures, was covetous in nature. Lonely, too. She understood why it had woven its roots so irrevocably through the tapestry of her story. Always pulling and tugging with the intention of keeping her at its heart.
She did not understand why it would be letting her go so easily.
Why now?
At first, silence.
Then, Elain heard the harsh crunch of leaves under racing footsteps. It was distant—a sound that had not yet occurred in the physical world. A future yet to pass.
Another comes to replace you.
"Wait." Lucien held a hand out to stop Helion. "If you take the lantern, will that cause us to forget once we're outside its light?"
"You could wait by the pool," Helion suggested. "I'll write a note to return once—"
"It's not necessary," Elain interrupted. Lucien's mother nodded her head to agree. "Moving the lantern will work."
Helion looked nervous. "Should you write yourselves a letter just in case?"
"It will work," Elain repeated confidently. "But there's still a letter I would like to write. And some things I'd like to pack before we go."
She turned to her husband, delighted to see a smile—a genuine smile—spread across his face.
"We're truly free?" He asked. "We can go anywhere we wish, and still remember who we are to each other?"
There was a bright, bubbly feeling threatening to burst from her chest. It was lessened only by her guilt in knowing someone else would be falling into the trap they were escaping.
"Yes," she answered, matching his smile with a tentative one of her own. "We're truly free."
"Then, where would you like to go?"
He asked it with a tone of such ready acceptance, as if she could truly name anywhere in the world and he would happily oblige. It was easy to answer, given how often she had thought about what she would do if she could leave.
"Let's go with your parents to the Day Court to start. But I'd also like to find my sisters."
Lucien nodded. "I'll go anywhere you wish, Elain. So long as I'm by your side."
"Then it's a good thing you married me," Elain said. "Because I intend to be by your side for the rest of our lives."
Bonus Epilogue:
Dear reader,
My name is Elain Archeron. I previously lived in this cottage.
If you are reading this, then you must be afflicted by the same memory curse that plagued my family for the many years we lived here.
There is a cure.
If you go to the pool at the back of the garden and stare at your reflection, you will find your memory returned.
Now that we have taken the lantern, I do not know what life might be like for you at this cottage. You may very well lose your memory the moment you look away from the pool.
If that's the case, then please come find me in the Day Court. I will help you restore your memory.
Until then, keep this note upon your person.
It will help you remember your goal of finding me.
Best of luck,
Elain Archeron
Feyre frowned as she read the note. She knew from the creases in the pages and the notes she had scribbled in the margin that this was not her first time reading it. But she could not recall any of the previous times.
She could not recall anything at all.
But the name… Elain Archeron. Why was it so familiar?
Probably because you've read this note a hundred times and don't remember it, she told herself, lowering the page with a frown.
She would need to find this Elain Archeron. But first, perhaps she should try looking in the pool Elain mentioned.
"There you are, Feyre Darling."
Feyre looked up to find the most beautiful male she had ever seen, standing in the doorway of the cottage.
With the masterlists done, I just wanted to give a big shout-out and thank you to the incredible mods that made such an amazing appreciation week possible!
From the friendship bracelet games to hype us up, the awesome prompts (the Revival prompt was an incredible idea), the hype and encouragement you gave in the tags on all the works you shared, and all of the work it must have taken to wrangle the products of our love and creativity for this ship for these lists.
Not to mention your individual contributions with fics and art and commissions. All of them stunning!
We are so blessed to have you all and to have such an incredible and positive community 💕
My only regret is that it's not Elucien Week every week!
It's a commission that my very very sweet friends @moonpatroclus and @cauldronblssd did with artist Oexas 🥰 it's a scene from my fic A Blaze In the Dark!
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!
We’ve taken a look through all 63 works in this year’s collection and have sorted them into a quiz that will help you decide which one is perfect for you!
>>> Click here to take the quiz!
Once again, thank you to everyone who participated. We had such a fabulous week, and we can’t wait to see you again next year from July 18 - 24, 2027!
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 ・ Series Masterlist ・ 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.
"Oh—yes 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 could—Elain 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 person—herself. 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 childhood… 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 at—at 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.
"Lucien—"
"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'll—" 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.
"Wait…" 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 you—"
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 there…
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 you…" 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 did—"
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. I—"
Lucien was shaking his head, still frowning. "He said that you were dead. That you—" 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 was—an 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 studies—to 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 Helion…" 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."
Oh how quickly @elucienweekforever ends...and yet the friends we made along the way, well, I'd call the real ✨magic✨ of elucienweek.
Did I do a good job working in the whole friendship is magic thing? Of course I did, I'm brilliant AND hilarious. For day 7, I decided to be literal with the friendship theme of this year and commission Elain and Lucien as My Little Ponys. You can slide over to see the individual character designs! The artist, Ian_Mo, taught me so much about MLPs and gave me one of the best commissioning experiences ever. They requested we share their commission link- please check them out! Vgen.com/Ian_mo
From the bottom of my and @the-lonelybarricade heart, thank you to everyone who participated this year! Your friendship IS magic, and we can't wait to see you all next year
For today I made a moodboard of the cauldron scene as this moment caused emotional scars for both of them, especially Elain (obviously).
But as a reader I loved this scene, the drama, the tension, the shock. I actually threw my book and screamed when he said “you’re my mate”, such a good twist and reveal.
10 years of the fandom waiting for their story, I cannot wait to finally read it !!!
The Republic was beginning to fracture. On Naboo, Elain, a young seer in service to the Queen, dreamed of a Jedi she had never met. The Force urged her to wait in the golden fields beyond Theed when, moments later, a starfighter tore across the sky, trailing smoke before crashing into the plains. Its pilot was Jedi Master Lucien Vanserra, forced to crash-land on Naboo after a mission went terribly wrong.
Neither of them knew that the Force had been guiding them toward this meeting all along.
