All This Effort To Make It Look Effortless

Elain took a deep breath of cool fresh air, tinged with the sharp, bright scent of spring blooms. She paused on her walk up the hill and lowered her pink parasol to tilt her face up to the sun. It was a warm, lovely day, with only a smattering of puffy white clouds strolling lazily across the sky.

But then, it was always a warm, lovely day in Toad Town.

Elain did not have any reason to be resentful about that, and so she pretended like she wasn’t. People would murder, steal, and do a number of other unspeakable things in order to be where she was. People did murder, steal, and do other unspeakable things, and it was her duty to protect the peace of her little corner of the world.

She had no right to be (just a little bit) resentful that it never rained, that the wind never picked up enough to ruffle her hair, that it never got chilly, or uncomfortably hot, or that it didn’t snow. So what if it didn’t snow at Mushroom Castle? So what if there was a whole world up north where apparently it was snowy year-round, and Elain had never seen it, and likely never would? That was nobody’s problem except for hers.

It was just that sometimes, sometimes she would look out at the rolling hills surrounding her castle, the grass so vibrantly green it almost looked fake, everyone so happy and smiling, and she almost, almost wished she were somewhere else.

Somewhere new. Somewhere different and interesting.

There was nothing interesting about the grounds of Mushroom Castle. Only the same hills she had run up and down since she was a girl, the same perfectly proportioned trees she had been shading herself under all her life, and that maddening, perfectly harmless sun.

Elain wanted to know what it was like to have the sun feel so hot that it burned. She wanted to burn and then dip into a pool of cool water and hiss at the sharp contrast. She wanted to step outside into a frigid landscape and then come inside and sigh as the heat of a fireplace warmed her frozen fingers.

But this was where she belonged, in her castle, as the fair-headed, level-tempered monarch of her people, and so that would be where she remained.

A few toads scurried by, sending her wide-eyed, worried glances as they passed “Princess Elain, are you alright?”

Indeed she must have looked quite the sight, standing there looking miserably up into the sun. Elain lifted her parasol and smiled warmly at the toads. “Quite alright. Just out for a little stroll.”

The toads smiled broadly and then were on their way, leaving her alone with her thoughts. Elain continued up the hill, until she was high enough that she had an unobstructed view of her land.

It was beautiful, really. A lush, green landscape dotted with gently rolling hills, a lazily curving river, and in the center- Mushroom Castle. The afternoon sunshine reflected off the pristine white stone so brightly it almost hurt to look at it. Towers and turrets rose towards the sky, narrowing into spires topped with red flags that gently swung in the gentle breeze. The drawbridge was down, the moat as quiet and still as a reflecting pool. In her mind she could picture the bright, sunny interior, the walls dotted with paintings she knew so well she could probably have recreated them with her eyes closed.

Beautiful, serene, peaceful. And completely, utterly dull.

It was wrong, so wrong, but in that moment Elain couldn’t help but look toward the sky. She strained her ears, thinking that maybe that sound she heard was the menacing rumble of those propellers. Maybe that shadow she saw in the distance was not caused by a cloud, but by that warship, captained by that monster who was so intent on making her his bride.

It terrified her, the thought that he would always come back for her. Always, time and time again, he would come back. Nothing could distract him, nothing could convince him to stay away.

And yet- and yet, was it wrong, that when she was aboard that flying ship, she leaned over the railing and marveled wide-eyed at the scenery below her? They only ever flew south, so she had never seen the snow kingdom, but she had seen deserts with sand-covered towns and tropical islands with beaches as white as fresh paper. It took her breath away every time. Just one glimpse was enough to fuel her dreams for months. The world was so large, and she had seen so little of it.

But the return of King Koopa also meant war, destruction, and unnecessary distress for her subjects. And so of course Elain didn’t wish for that cloud in the distance to pass, and reveal the terrifying outline of fluttering sails and canons ready to fire.

No, of course she didn’t wish that.

-

“Silence!” Lucien boomed. The soldiers in front of him fell silent immediately. “What did you just say?”

The soldier quivered slightly, in equal parts fright and excitement. “The plumber, your highness. He’s been spotted vacationing with his brother on Isle Delfino.”

Lucien snarled, smoke escaping his nostrils as a wave of dislike coursed through him. Just the thought of that plumber was enough to agitate the flame that heated his veins.

“And they did not take the princess with them?” He was almost afraid to hear the answer, even as a plan started forming in his mind.

“No, Sir. They never do. The princess’s place is in her castle.”

The princess’s place is by my side, Lucien thought automatically. She had been his since the first moment they laid eyes on each other.

He could still remember it, the first time he had seen her. Elain. So beautiful, so delicate- and so, so afraid of him. The first time he had kidnapped her she had cried the entire time. Lucien did not like the tears. They squeezed at his heart like a vice, enough so that he hadn’t put up that much of a fight when the plumber and his acolytes had come to rescue her.

The second time she had cried again, though less desperately than the first time. She had seemed almost defeated, as if she had expected this to happen.

Over time though, as she learned that he truly did not mean to harm her, her fear for him had faded, as had the tears. She tried to act like he still scared her, but Lucien knew the truth. He saw the way she leaned over the railing of his ship and gazed out at the landscape below, her beautiful brown eyes glittering with fascination.

Her soul called out to his. She was trapped, a lost soul, a dreamer. Lucien could tell, because he was trapped, too. Trapped in a land he hated, in a position he never asked for.

They could run away. He would show her the world. Far, far away from that meddlesome plumber who was too foolish to see what was directly in front of him. Lucien would never leave her behind to play the pretty princess as he went off on adventures. He would take her anywhere she wanted.

If only she would accept to be his bride.

“Prepare the ship,” Lucien declared. We fly in an hour.”

Isle Delfino was a few days’ flight from Mushroom Castle. A week or more on foot. He could be in and out before word even got further than Toad Town, and they would be long gone before the blasted plumber even heard the news.

His soldiers snickered darkly and squealed in delight at the prospect. Sometimes they irritated Lucien so much that he was afraid he might incinerate them all in a bout of annoyance.

He left them to their giddy preparations and walked out the throne room to the balcony that overlooked his lands.

Koopa Kingdom had once been as beautiful as Mushroom Kingdom, if not even more so. Lucien could remember running through dense forests as a child, climbing trees that were so wide and ancient they were almost sacred. He remembered his eldest brother teaching him how to fish with his bare hands in the merry rivers that used to wound their way around their lands, but had long since dried up. The volcano that now continuously spat its fury into the sky had been dormant in his youth, a harmless mountain that he had climbed time and time again.

That glorious kingdom was now no more than a miserable, god-forsaken corner of the world. Burned to the ground with the combined wrath of the volcano and his siblings’ desperate rivalry. In the end they had all perished, leaving only Lucien to pick up the pieces.

Now it was him that they feared, as they had all once feared his father and his brothers. It was useless to try to convince them all that he was different than them, that he did not wish for them to fear him. But how to explain, when he looked like them, and talked like them, and lived in the castle they had once ruled? It was useless, and so Lucien let them make up their own minds about him.

It was easier this way.

-

It usually came and went, the restlessness, as Elain called it. More pressing matters would come up- town folks would come to her with problems needing solving, or her friends would return from their travels bursting at the seams to regale her with their tales.

But that night there was nothing but Elain and her thoughts. She wandered the quiet halls of her castle, illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through the large windows. The only sound other than her own breathing was the swish of her skirts along the stone floors.

Elain walked from room to room, admiring the paintings and the strange, foreign worlds they depicted. A sunken ship, surrounded by terrifying underwater creatures. A world filled with giants. A winter landscape with jolly, smiling snowmen. She reached out and touched the snow, wishing there existed some kind of magic that would make it possible for her to fall into the painting and inhabit that world, even if it was only for a little while.

She was still staring at the snowy landscape when she heard the rumbling in the distance. Still faint, but close enough that she could feel the vibration of it through the floor. Her breath caught in her throat. It was him. King Koopa, come to take her away again. A little thrill went through her. Fear, yes, but mostly something else. Excitement, heady and addicting. Elain didn’t let herself focus on that as she hurried through the castle towards the throne room.

Her faithful toads were already gathered around the closed double doors, frantic and panicky. Bless them- she loved them dearly, but they were not fighters. The only fighters she knew were far away, on Isle Delfino. Elain had wanted to go with them but of course she could not. She tried not to resent her friends for that but it was hard not to, when she was the one carrying the heavy burden of ruling, while they went off and had the adventures she so desperately wanted.

It was also difficult not to resent them when they were exploring distant shores and she was left to fend for herself as her lands were invaded by the enemy.

Was he still the enemy, though, if she did not resist?

A heavy thud sounded in the distance, the impact making the windows rattle in their frames. Elain could hear shouts in the distance, followed by jeers and laughter. A burst of flame from outside the windows illuminated the throne room with warm light. Elain knew that flame. She was drawn to it, despite herself. It was as inexplicable as the fact that she wasn’t afraid of him, despite the fact that all reason said she definitely should be.

“Princess Elain! What are you doing? Please, go back to your chambers!”

Elain ignored the pleas of her faithful servants and descended the steps from the dais towards the wide double doors. The king would take her whether she wanted to go or not. It was easier for everyone if she went easily. At least, that’s what she told herself.

The first impact on the doors sent the toads screaming in fright. But Elain held her ground, standing proud and unafraid. She would not be seen cowering inside her own home. Especially because if she had her way, this would be the last time. She was not planning on coming back to her mind-numbingly dull life at Mushroom Castle. She would find a way to escape, on her own this time, and then she would be free to travel the world as she pleased.

Another teeth-rattling bang against the doors. It would be easier to open them than to let him break them down, really, but that might have been taking things a step too far. She didn’t need him to know that she wasn’t afraid of him, after all. It made Elain feel powerful to know that she could fool him this way. There was an element of danger in admitting to him that she was not afraid. It might cause him to change his ways, and become as wicked and cruel as people feared him to be.

Another hit, and another, until finally the wood cracked and then splintered. A hand appeared through the cracks, scaled fingers ending in menacing claws ripping and clawing at the wood until the doors were no more than a pile of sticks on the ground. And then there he was, with nothing but air protecting her from him. The giant, reptilian form of King Koopa.

He was so tall that he had to stoop slightly to fit through the door, and so broad that his frame almost blocked out any moonlight from filtering in through the gap in the wall. His muscular limbs were covered in thick yellow-gold scales, his fingers and toes tipped with those sharp claws. His back was covered by an emerald green shell dotted with spikes, the same spikes that lined his tapered tail. On his head curved two menacing horns, and in between those horns, a shock of ruby-red hair.

He laughed then, his usual low, rumbling laugh. Elain heard a few whimpers behind her, but she only clasped her hands in front of her and lowered her eyes. This was the game they played. She had her role, and he had his.

His footsteps echoed around the silent throne room. Elain didn’t move, couldn’t breathe as he approached her. And then one of those clawed fingers was gently tilting her chin up so she was forced to look at him.

His fiery russet eyes were fixed on hers, his mouth curved into his trademark evil grin.

“Well, well, well,” he crooned. “Look what we have here.”

His cronies snickered behind him, swinging their weapons around menacingly. Elain forced herself to meet that fiery gaze.

“Where are your friends?” the King continued.

“Away,” Elain said simply. She tried to keep her expression neutral but a frown betrayed her.

He laughed again, but it sounded different this time. Less menacing and wild, almost…bitter. Elain didn’t know what to make of that, so she stood there and held his gaze.

“Please don’t take me, Your Highness,” she whispered, widening her eyes for good measure.

This was part of their game. As soon as the words left her lips his russet eyes flickered with flame, and Elain’s breath caught in her throat. It was wrong, so wrong, that she wasn’t afraid. That she wanted to reach out a hand towards him and feel his skin, just to see if she could feel that flame that coursed through his veins…

“I’ll make you my bride this time, Princess.”

His words sent a little shiver through her. On the surface they sounded menacing, but she knew the threat was empty. She’d figured that out a long time ago.

“And if I refuse?” she countered.

Her tone might have been slightly more petulant than she had planned, and she momentarily froze. But then that flame in his eyes intensified, and his wicked grin widened.

“Oh, you won’t Princess. Not this time.”

With that he swept her up into his arms and walked out of the castle. Her toads were crying and pleading with him for mercy, but he only laughed and shooed them out of his way.

He carried her all the way onto ship, and when he set her down he did it gently, carefully. The soldiers were climbing aboard behind their King, and then they were off, rising up into the night sky.

-

There was something different about her tonight. Lucien couldn’t put his finger on what it was, but it was enough to dim his usual bravado.

“Please don’t take me, your highness.”

Was it his runaway imagination, or had her lips quirked into the barest of smirks as she said those words? No- surely not. That was his idiotic mind being affected by her presence, as always.

She was leaning over the side of the ship as she always did when they flew, her golden-brown curls whipping in the wind as she gazed out at the scenery below them. After a few minutes she leaned back and gazed at the floor sadly.

“Can I go below deck?”

Lucien blinked in surprise. He was so taken aback by this request that he forgot to sound menacing when he spoke. “But you always like to stay above deck to look at the view.”

The princess fixed him with a steely look. His unspoken subtext shone in those eyes like an accusation. You mean, every other time you’ve kidnapped me?

But Lucien couldn’t feel bad about it. They were meant to be together. She would see, someday. She would realize that his methods, while dubious, had been necessary to bring them together.

“It’s night,” she said simply. “I can’t see anything.”

Lucien’s stomach dropped. Idiot. You’re so fucking stupid, why did you come at night. She likes to look at the view and you came at night because you were too eager to see her.

He glanced around them quickly to make sure they were alone. “Sorry,” he said gruffly. “I didn’t think of that.”

It was Elain’s turn to blink in surprise. “Are you apologizing for kidnapping me at night instead of during the day?”

Lucien chuckled. “Would that be a bad thing?”

Elain was quiet for a moment as she contemplated him. “Why are you only nice when nobody else is around?”

Something twisted in Lucien’s gut again. He had a feeling that maybe Elain understood him better than he understood himself, and there was something dangerously thrilling about that.

“Why do you pretend to be afraid of me when we both know you’re not?” he countered.

Another quirk of those lips. How Lucien longed to kiss those lips. How he longed for her to want to kiss him. But why would she? He was a giant, fire-breathing turtle.

Do you see me? Do you see that I’m not what the world thinks I am?

“Why wouldn’t I be afraid of you? You’re a monster intent on making me his bride against my will.”

Monster. Monster. Monster. It wasn’t her fault. She didn’t know, but it hurt nonetheless. But why would she think of him as anything else when he had never shown her the truth?

“That’s where you’re wrong, princess. I don’t intend to make you do anything against your will.”

He would show her, he decided. Once they arrived at Koopa Kingdom, he would show her the truth about who he was.

“So if I asked you to bring me home you would do it?” Her eyes were wide, her head quirked. The portrait of innocence- had it not been for that defiance flashing in those eyes.

“Is home really where you’d like to go?”

Her lips clamped shut.

Lucien laughed again. “Tell me where you’d like to go, and maybe I’ll take you there.”

She seemed to hesitate for a second, but then she crossed her arms defiantly and remained silent, those blazing eyes fixed on his.

“Very well,” Lucien said, inclining his head in a mock bow. “If you change your mind just let me know. You’ll never know what my answer might be until you ask.”

-

Castle Koopa was dark and uninviting, with walls made of crude stone and torches that sent long, spooky shadows along the corridors. There were damp dungeons and abandoned towers and a throne room empty of any furniture save for a single throne on a raised dais.

When they arrived Elain wordlessly followed the King’s cronies to the chambers where she was always kept. Although, was it fair to say she was “being kept” when there was no lock on the door?

Her chambers were not in the dungeons, as her friends believed, but in one of the highest towers. It was a circular room, with tall windows that let in plenty of sun. There was a bookshelf filled with books, plush carpeting, and a large four-poster bed with lush bedding. The attached bathing chamber was just as opulent, with gold fixtures and a variety of scented toiletries at her disposal.

The view, however, was admittedly not as pleasant as the interior. The lands of Koopa Kingdom were barren and stark, with lazily flowing rivers of lava that ran down the sides of the volcano and onto what had once been a lush, abundant kingdom.

Escaping on foot was pure folly. The bridges that arched over the lava flows were old and crumbly, and one wrong step could send her toppling to her death. Elain was not so desperate that she would readily risk her life. She would have to go about it a different way.

Her strange conversation with the King had given her an idea. If she played her part well enough, would he agree to take her somewhere else? Perhaps she could cry and beg. She knew he hated that. That first time he had kidnapped her she had cried the entire time and she had felt his discomfort like it was a physical thing.

He knew she liked to look out at the view as they flew, had even apologized for taking her at night. Perhaps she could simply request that he take her somewhere else on the basis of satisfying her curiosity.

And then, when they got there, she could escape.

The next morning Elain made her way down to the dining hall, where she always ate her meals. As she walked through the castle she encountered many of the King’s cronies, but nobody escorted her or checked her comings and goings. After all, where could she go?

Elain usually ate alone, with only a guard at the door to keep her company, but sometimes the King would join her. On the few occasions she had asked him about it he gruffly claimed to be busy, but Elain sometimes got the feeling that he gave her space on purpose. She didn’t quite know what to make of that.

She was hoping that he would be there today, so she could lay the groundwork for her plan. She’d start by wistfully mentioning her friends’ most recent ill-planned trip, and then she’d mention how much she enjoyed flying over all those wondrous territories that she had never seen on foot. If she played the part convincingly enough he might even offer before she even had to ask.

As she walked through the doors into the dining room she gasped and stopped in her tracks. The King was not at the table, but there was someone sitting at the head of the table in his usual spot. A man. This fact alone would have startled her- she had never seen another human anywhere near Castle Koopa. He stood as Elain walked in and she realized on second glance that he wasn’t quite a man, but not quite a Koopaling either. She had never seen anybody like him.

He was beautiful, with elegant, sharp features that made her breath catch in her throat. She guessed that he must be related to the King somehow, because he sported the same long, curved horns on top of his head, those same russet eyes, and the mane of silky hair that tumbled past his shoulders was a very familiar shade of ruby-red.

Even more distracting, though, was the fact that he was bare chested. His golden skin seemed to glow in the light of the lit torches, and it was an effort not to gawk at his strong chest and rippled stomach.

“Good morning,” he greeted, inclining his head in a bow.

The sound of his voice sent a little shiver through her. He had a deep, rich voice, not gravelly and rough like the King’s, but smooth and warm.

“Who are you?” she squeaked.

The man smirked slightly, and Elain flushed in horror. She was forgetting herself. She might not be afraid of the King but she did not know this man. He might very well be somebody she should be afraid of.

She dipped into a quick curtsey, and the man laughed softly. “There’s no need for all that,” he said, his tone laced with amusement. “Please, sit.”

As he turned towards his seat Elain realized why he had chosen not to wear a shirt. His back was covered with thick, emerald green plates, something halfway between armor and the shell that covered the King’s back.

Elain walked towards her usual seat at the other end of the table on slightly unsteady legs. She was so taken aback that for a few minutes she only sat and stared at him. The man seemed perfectly fine with this arrangement, and he continued his breakfast in silence with a little smile on his lips.

When Elain eventually roused herself out of her trance she realized he had not answered her. It seemed rude to ask again, so she tried another tactic. “I haven’t seen you here before,” she said hesitantly.

Another flash of amusement in those russet eyes, but still he said nothing. Not confirming nor denying.

“Are you not hungry?” he asked, nodding his head to the loaded dishes in front of her.

Elain reached for the nearest dish with shaky fingers, dumping fruits, cheese, and pastries on her plate. She forked a tiny piece of melon and chewed slowly, hyper aware of the man’s eyes fixated on her.

When she looked back at him he was still smiling that coy smile. “Where is the King?” she asked timidly. Had her friends found her so soon? Was the King already out there, battling them?

“Don’t worry about him,” the man quickly replied.

Elain was getting a little irritated with his answers that weren’t really answers, but she remembered her manners and forced herself to remain polite.

“Are you related?” She figured this was a fair enough question to ask.

The man’s expression became carefully guarded. “You could say that,” he answered carefully.

“What’s your name?”

His lips twitched back into a smile. “You’re chatty today.”

Elain flushed in embarrassment. “Sorry,” she muttered. And then his wording made her frown. “What do you mean I’m chatty today?”

The man winced slightly, though he tried to play it off by taking a sip of tea. “Just a figure of speech,” he said casually.

The silence stretched on awkwardly. Elain picked at her food, glancing up at the man across the table every few seconds. She was burning with curiosity about him, but she didn’t want to push her luck.

After a few minutes of tense silence he cleared his throat and Elain jumped slightly. “Lucien. My name is Lucien.”

Elain smiled at his admission. Perhaps if she kept him talking she could find out where the king had gone and when he’d be back. “Nice to meet you, Lucien. I’m Elain.”

“Elain?” he asked curiously. “Not Princess Elain?” He seemed amused at her expense again. His eyes flicked to the top of her head. “Where is your crown?”

Elain shrugged primly. “I don’t see a need for it here. I am no princess in these lands.”

In truth she relished the opportunity to not wear that crown, heavy both physically and in burden.

Lucien was looking at her closely, as if he was trying to look directly into her soul. It unnerved her- it was almost like he knew more about her then he was letting on.

“What is your purpose here?” she asked, if only to get him to stop peering at her like that.

Lucien stared at her for so long, with such an unreadable expression on his face, that she worried she might have pried too far. But then his eyes turned sad, and he seemed to slump a little.

“You could say I am a prisoner here, too,” he said softly.

Elain gaped at him. “The King is holding you captive here as well?”

Lucien waved his hand vaguely. “In a way, yes.”

Elain had never seen or heard of another human prisoner in this castle in the multiple times she’d been here. Could there be others, in hidden corners of the castle? Perhaps if there were, they could help each other escape. She was no fighter, any ally she could get would be welcome. And by the looks of Lucien he most certainly knew how to fight…

Her heart was racing with excitement at this new prospect. She was just about to ask if there were others when the sound of approaching voices sent Lucien jumping out of his seat in alarm.

“I must go,” he murmured, glancing at her with what looked like regret.

Elain couldn’t understand his reaction. Was he not allowed to walk freely around the castle, as she was? Perhaps that would explain why she had never seen him before.

“Wait!”

Lucien’s eyes widened slightly at the urgency in her tone. She didn’t want him to go. Having someone to talk to who wasn’t the King or his hateful cronies had been so welcome, even with his half answers.

“Will I see you again?” she asked shyly. “I can come to you, if it’s safer, I’m allowed to walk around as I please…”

Lucien smiled, and Elain’s breath caught in her throat again. “I’ll find you, Elain. Don’t worry.”

Before she could say anything else he had hurried out of the room, and she was alone once more.

-

Lucien hesitated in front of the closed door that led to Elain’s chambers. He normally never sought her out in her rooms, aware that she would consider it an invasion of privacy. Perhaps it was just his way of making himself feel better about kidnapping her and holding her hostage against her will, but it brought him a small measure of peace to know that she could at least feel safe within the confines of her rooms.

But tonight he couldn’t help it. That look on her face as she had spotted him in the dining hall was forever burned in his memory. He knew it wasn’t his own vanity that made him imagine the heat that had flared in her beautiful eyes as she took in his appearance. The sight of her lips falling open as her eyes snagged on his bare torso had been worth the risk.

Continuing the secrecy surrounding his true form was the only tradition started by his father that he actually respected. He could admit that there was some sense to it. As a giant, fire-breathing reptile he was practically invincible, at least in terms of brute strength. Even his underbelly was protected by thick scales, and nothing could stand in the way of his fire. But as a human, he was vulnerable. His skin was no longer a built-in armor but just that- skin. Warm and soft and utterly pierceable. He still had his flame, but it wasn’t quite the same. If his cronies found out they could easily rebel against him, especially now that his father and brothers were long gone and it was just him. If they ganged up on him in his human form there would be nothing but his flame to protect him from having a spear thrown into his heart.

So he kept up the pretense. Still, the urge to show Elain his true self had plagued him since the first time he’d seen her. It had been pure folly, to show himself to her, but somehow he trusted that she wouldn’t tell anyone. He simply needed her to know- he needed her to look at his human form and know that if she placed her hands on him he would feel as human and breakable as she did. If she only looked at him from the front she might even forget that he wasn’t completely human. There was nothing he could do about the horns on his head, so he could only hope she wasn’t completely repulsed by them.

Lucien hesitated for another minute before knocking on her door gently. There was a soft intake of breath from the other side of the door, and then silence. He couldn’t blame her for being alarmed.

“Elain?” he called softly through the door. “It’s me. Lucien.”

Another gasp, and then the muffled sound of feet pattering as she hurried towards the door. It opened a crack, and then she appeared, peering at him timidly. Lucien’s heart quickened as he realized she was wearing a nightgown. But then, what had he expected? He forced himself to keep his gaze on her face and no further south.

“Hi,” she said shyly.

Unlike him she apparently had no qualms about ogling him, and Lucien’s heart rate increased as he noticed her gaze immediately dipped to his chest. He’d worn a shirt tonight, in an attempt to make her less intimidated by his presence in her chambers. He didn’t want her to get the wrong impression and become afraid of him, but suddenly he hated the garment with a burning passion, and not just because it was itching against the plates of armor on his back.

Elain quickly glanced around the deserted corridor. “How did you…is it safe for you to be here?”

It wasn’t, but not for the reasons she assumed.

“I wanted to apologize for running away so abruptly earlier,” he replied, dodging the question. “Sorry to bother you so late.”

He didn’t quite know how to ask her if he could come in without sounding like a predator, but then Elain smiled and opened the door wider.

“It’s fine,” she said quickly. “You’re not bothering me. Do you want to come in?”

Lucien dipped his chin in thanks and stepped into her room. He couldn’t help but watch her as she walked to her wardrobe and wrapped a robe around herself, her cheeks stained a rosy pink. She turned to face him and suddenly Lucien was at a loss for what to say. Truthfully he hadn’t really planned this visit beyond his desire to see her. He was scrambling to come up with an excuse for being there, but Elain beat him to it.

“I’ve been thinking,” she started excitedly, “about how we can escape.”

That was not what he had expected her to say, and for a moment Lucien could only blink at her stupidly. “About how we can…what?”

“Escape!” Elain repeated. Her brown eyes were twinkling with excitement. “I’ve been coming up with a plan. I was going to do it myself but obviously it will be much better to have someone who can fight…”

Bitter disappointment twisted in Lucien’s gut. Why was he surprised? Of course she wanted to escape, why had he thought otherwise? Why had he assumed that just because she wasn’t outwardly repulsed by his true form, it must mean she would want to stay?

She mistook his silence for confusion, and her blush deepened. “I mean, I just assumed you know how to fight, judging by how…I mean…it’s ok if you don't…”

Lucien was aware that she was complimenting him without meaning to, and he couldn’t help but puff up his chest slightly. “I know how to fight,” he said quickly.

Her eyes brightened. “I knew you would!”

“So…” He must tread carefully here. “You were planning to escape? Back to Toad Town? Why not wait for your friends to come to your help?”

To his knowledge she had never attempted to escape on her own before. It was such a departure from her usual behavior that Lucien couldn’t make sense of it. Especially as her eyes flashed with irritation and she lifted her chin proudly.

“I’m tired of waiting for men to rescue me,” she said, crossing her arms defiantly. She was so much shorter than him but somehow in that moment she seemed to look down at him. Why did he like that so much?

“Besides,” she continued, “I’m not looking to go back home.”

Lucien’s heart rate picked up again. It was so loud in his ears that he wouldn’t have been surprised if she could hear it.

“Where do you want to go?” he asked carefully.

Her face turned towards the window, and the longing in her eyes made his heart clench. I will take you anywhere, he promised silently. Just tell me where you’d like to go.

“Everywhere,” she said simply. “I want to see it all. Did you know there’s a territory to the north completely covered in snow and ice?” She perked up visibly again, and Lucien chuckled even as his heart continued to race.

This was what he’d been waiting for. A sign, a hint, something to indicate that he had been right in assuming that her quiet life as Princess of Mushroom Kingdom was not what she truly desired.

“Will you help me?” She looked so hopeful, those brown eyes so wide and lovely, that Lucien felt the urge to fall to his knees and declare that there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her. Saying no to that face was not a possibility, consequences be damned.

“Yes,” he blurted. “I will help you.”

The smile this earned him was more beautiful than anything he’d ever seen in his life.

“Do you know if there are others? We can take them with us!”

Lucien frowned in confusion. “Others?”

“Other prisoners!”

Right- she believed him a prisoner. He felt a twinge of guilt at that. But then again, what other choice did he have? He couldn’t reveal his identity to her yet. Not until she trusted him completely. And not until they were far, far away from this place.

“I don’t believe so, no…” he said vaguely.

“That’s probably for the best,” she replied, nodding seriously. “A bigger group would be more noticeable.”

Something occurred to Lucien then. That she was asking about other prisoners meant she believed him capable of such a thing. But, once again, why wouldn’t she? Had he not kidnapped her, time and time again?

“I’ll need a few days to prepare the ship,” he said, speaking as much to himself as he was to her. It would take a matter of hours if he asked his soldiers to do it, but of course he couldn’t reveal what he was really planning. He would have to be careful to avoid detection.

Elain’s eyebrows raised in surprise, and then she smiled in delight. “You want to steal the King’s ship?”

Lucien shuffled uncomfortably. “Um…I guess so. Yes. That’s the best way, we can’t escape on foot without being detected.”

“You can fly it?”

It was an effort not to laugh at that. His eldest brother had taught him how to fly the ship when he’d been eight years old.

“Yes.” Too confident. “I mean, I think so…”

“Excellent! We should do it at night, when the King and his soldiers are sleeping. That way we’ll be long gone by the time they even realize we’re gone.”

It hurt, the knowledge that she would leave him without a second thought, without saying goodbye. Hadn’t she grown to tolerate his presence? Or had that been an act? A coping mechanism, perhaps, to lull him into thinking she had become submissive?

And yet, she was trusting him now, wasn’t she? He could find comfort in that.

“You should gather anything you think you’ll need.” As he said it he realized that anything she would be taking would be something he had provided for her. She had no personal effects here except for the pink dress with the blue pin she had been wearing upon her arrival. “I’ll pack some cloaks as well.”

She looked at him in confusion at that.

“We’ll need them if you want to go north,” he clarified. “That is where you want to go, right?”

Elain stared at him for so long that a new, horrible thought occurred to him. Of course she didn’t want to go north with him. She wanted his help to escape, but after that she would want to be rid of him, and he’d be no better off than he was now…

“You would take me there?” she asked, her voice small.

“I’ll take you anywhere you want to go,” Lucien replied, perhaps a tad more forcefully than he had meant to. “If you want me to.”

She held his gaze, and for a moment he couldn’t breathe. Say yes.

“Why would you do that for me?” she asked, still in that same quiet, timid voice.

I would do anything for you.

“It’s like I told you…I’m trapped here, too.”

Her eyes became sad, and he felt wretched. She reached out and took his hands in hers, squeezing gently, and that little touch made his blood heat a few degrees. Her skin was so soft. It made him feel like a beast, a monstrosity with scales and spikes and horns.

“I think we were meant to find each other,” she whispered. “So we could escape together.”

Lucien squeezed back. “Yes,” he agreed. “I think so, too.”

-

Elain didn’t see Lucien for days afterwards. He wasn’t in the dining hall when she went for meals, and he never came to seek her out in her chambers. She tried not to become worried, reasoning that he must be trying to keep a low profile in light of their impending escape.

Still, she couldn’t help the scenarios of increasing doom that took residence in her mind. Perhaps the King had caught him, and was punishing him? Perhaps Lucien was being tortured, and he would be forced to admit that he had been helping her. Or perhaps he had simply changed his mind. Somehow she thought that would be the most devastating of all the scenarios.

Elain was walking towards the dining hall, trying to convince herself that he wouldn’t be there in order to keep the disappointment at bay, when the sound of voices sent her heart soaring. She quickened her pace and practically skipped into the dining hall, and then she stopped short.

It was not Lucien sitting at the table, but King Koopa himself, surrounded by three of his soldiers. Elain tried to hide her crushing disappointment as she slowly approached the table. She had been thinking about Lucien so much that she had almost forgotten about the King completely.

The soldiers fell silent as she sat down at the table and served herself. The King looked unusually tense, and something about that filled Elain with dread.

“Have you been away?” she asked, not meeting that fiery gaze. “I haven’t seen you since I’ve arrived.”

Someone scoffed, and out of the corner of her eyes she saw one of the soldiers look at the King incredulously.

“Are you not going to punish her, Your Highness?” one of the cronies asked viciously. “Because I’d be happy to do it for you…”

Elain dropped her fork with a clang. That soldier always looked at her for too long, his gaze lascivious and leering. They were all ordered not to touch her, of course, but if he was given permission to punish her she had no doubt what his preferred method would be.

It wasn’t herself she was worried about in that moment, however. If they were speaking of punishing her then that had to mean that Lucien had been caught, and that’d he admitted what they were planning to do. What had they done to him?

The King snarled then, little wisps of smoke escaping his nostrils. “It is you who will be punished if you don’t show some respect.”

The soldier backed away and dipped his head respectfully. “Of course, yes, of course, I only meant to say…”

“Quiet!” the King ordered. The stuttering soldier fell silent at once.

“Punish me for what?” Elain asked in a small voice. “I’ve done nothing wrong, I’ve just been in my chambers the whole time…” It wasn’t a lie.

The King surveyed her carefully for a few moments. “My soldiers have just informed me that things have been going missing from the supply closets.”

Elain’s heart skipped a beat. Lucien had been stealing things in preparation for their escape. She swallowed thickly and prayed that she looked innocent. “What sorts of things?”

“Food,” the King answered. “Weapons.”

Weapons. Of course they would need those but Elain didn’t like to think about that.

“And…and why would I want to steal food and weapons, when I am well fed and have no idea how to fight?”

She knew that the King knew this, and that it was the reason she wasn’t already being punished.

“But who else could it be, Princess?” the leering soldier pressed.

The King snarled again, and this time a rumble shook through the floor of the dining hall. “Get out,” he demanded, glaring at his cronies. His voice was low and menacing and the soldiers almost tripped over themselves as they excited the dining hall, not needing to be told twice.

Once they were alone Elain dared to look up at the King. His expression was as unreadable as ever.

“I know you didn’t take those things,” he said. “You don’t need to worry.”

She was worried. If he knew she hadn’t done it then surely he knew who had, especially since she now knew there were no other prisoners other than her and Lucien. It might have been folly, to admit that she knew about him, but she had to know. Otherwise she would keep hoping for him to show up, when he probably never would.

“What did you do to him?” she asked quietly.

The King frowned slightly. “What did I do to who?”

“Lucien.” Her voice was so quiet it was barely above a whisper.

The King’s eyes widened slightly, and his head swiveled wildly, as if he was making sure that they were alone.

“Do not speak that name,” he said tightly.

Elain squirmed. Surely that meant something had happened to him. “It was my fault,” she said miserably. “It was my idea, he was only trying to help me. Please don’t hurt him, punish me instead…”

“Quiet!” he commanded. His eyes were wild with what she could have sworn was panic. “Stop talking, Elain.”

Elain. King Koopa almost never called her by her first name. It was always Princess. It was surprising enough to make her fall silent.

“Go to your chambers and do not come out or speak to anyone. And do not say that name to anyone, under any circumstances.”

“But…”

“Now, Princess.”

He stood and walked to her side, and Elain had no choice but to stand and let him escort her to her rooms. It was no use to keep arguing and risk angering him further.

Before shutting the door behind her she turned and looked at him. His russet eyes and vibrant hair were so similar to Lucien’s own features that Elain was suddenly enraged.

“He’s your family,” she spat at him through gritted teeth. “How could you treat like this? You’re a monster.”

The King didn’t growl or snarl, or clench his fists, or thump his spiked tail on the ground, or any of the other reactions she might have expected. He didn’t react at all, except for an almost imperceptible wince.

“I've never argued otherwise,” he replied, staring at her with an intensity that unnerved her. “Just trust me. Stay here. Everything will be ok.”

She opened her mouth to argue further but he was already shutting the door.

“Wait!”

The door snapped shut, followed by the unmistakable sound of a key turning in the lock. Elain’s stomach plummeted. He had never locked her in her chambers before. For a few long minutes she simply stood there and stared at the locked door in shock.

Just trust me. Everything will be ok.

What an odd thing to say before locking her in her room. Laughable, really.

Everything would not be ok. She had been presented with a glimmer of hope, a glimpse at a future that wasn’t just more of the same, and she’d latched on to it like a fool.

But what hurt the most was the thought of Lucien, getting punished for something that had been her idea. Would the King even let him live? Guilt and grief warred with each other until the emotions threatened to overwhelm her.

She barely knew Lucien, but she knew with absolute certainty that she’d never forget him. When her friends inevitably showed up to rescue her she would go back to Mushroom Castle with them, and then she would leave, consequences be damned. She would make her way around the unknown corners of the world on her own, and every time she would see something new she would think of him.

Elain wouldn’t let herself cry. Not here. It was useless to try to go to sleep, so she walked to the window seat and sat, staring out at the harsh, ruined landscape.

-

Lucien tiptoed through the castle, careful to avoid certain corridors where he knew soldiers would be standing guard. It would be wiser to shift only once he reached Elain’s room, but he was so much quieter and quicker this way.

The sound of raucous laughter echoed around the corner, and Lucien dove into an alcove in the wall hidden by a tapestry. He held his breath as the soldiers walked right by him, laughing and jeering and utterly unaware of his presence.

Once their laughter had faded he slowly slipped out from behind the tapestry and hurried towards the tower where Elain was currently locked up.

He had felt sick with guilt about locking her in her chambers as soon as he’d done it, but it had been necessary. He couldn’t risk her asking any of his soldiers about Lucien.

The plan had almost imploded in front of his very eyes, but by some miracle his idiotic guards had not managed to find where the stolen items had been hidden. It would have been trickier to smooth the situation over if the pilfered supplies had been found in their hiding place on his ship. Of course he could have just roared and declared that they were his things and he could do with them as he pleased, but still. Some of them might have grown suspicious and decided to keep watch on the ship. Lucien wanted to avoid confrontation as much as possible.

If all went according to plan they would simply drift away into the night, unseen and unheard. And by some miracle once their absence was noticed they would be long gone.

Lucien hesitated once he reached Elain’s door. Should he knock first, or just unlock the door? He didn’t want to make more noise than necessary, but what if she was sleeping and screamed when she woke up to find him standing next to her bed? And how was he going to explain that he had the key? What would make the most sense for someone who was ostensibly helping their friend escape? Was he overthinking things?

With one quick glance around the deserted hallway he reached out and knocked softly on the door. There was a quick gasp from inside, like last time, and then the hushed sound of her footsteps.

“Elain,” he whispered, “It’s me. Lucien.”

Another gasp, closer this time, like she had her face pressed against the door.

“Lucien! Gods! I thought…are you ok?”

“I’m fine. Are you ok?”

“Yes, yes, I’m alright. I’m locked in, though, I can’t open the door…”

Another roil of guilt. Lucien forced himself to ignore it. “I have the key,” he said quickly. “Can I come in?”

“You have…how did you…yes, of course, come in.”

Lucien slid the key in the lock and then cracked the door open. Elain’s slender arm reached out and tugged him inside before she shut the door again.

She was gaping at him with wide eyes, her jaw hanging clean off its hinges. “How…”

Before he could say anything she had closed the gap between them and wrapped her arms around his neck. Lucien froze in shock, his arms hanging limp at his sides.

“I was so worried!” Her voice was muffled from having her face pressed against his chest. “I thought something happened to you. The King found out about the missing supplies…”

Lucien was so shocked by her reaction that he only patted her on the back awkwardly, though he was tingling from her embrace.

“I’m sorry I scared you…”

“It’s not your fault!” she replied fiercely. “But how…”

Lucien shook his head quickly. “There’s no time, I’ll tell you once we’re on the ship.” Or better yet, she’d be so distracted and ecstatic about leaving that she’d forget to ask. He didn’t want to outright lie to her more than was strictly necessary, or the guilt would eat him alive.

Her brown eyes widened comically.

“We’re leaving,” Lucien clarified. “Tonight. Before anyone else becomes suspicious. Everything’s ready.”

“Tonight?” Her voice wobbled a little with sudden fright.

She glanced towards the window, an unreadable expression on her face. Was she thinking of the friends that were most probably on their way to rescue her right now? Was she changing her mind?

“If that’s still what you wish, of course…” he mumbled, heart pounding with nerves.

She waited another beat before squaring her shoulders and walking towards her wardrobe. Lucien watched silently as she wrapped a cloak around herself and then turned back to him.

“I’m ready.”

Her words, and the determination in her gaze, sent a little shiver through him. He was ready too- he’d been ready to leave this place his whole life. Was he really going to get away with it so easily? He couldn’t think about that now.

He led the way back through the castle and they inched their way slowly through the dark. The castle was mercifully still and silent, and if he weren’t trying to escape Lucien might have been angry at his guards for doing their job so poorly.

He forced himself to focus as they passed through the rooms and hallways that he knew so well he could navigate them blindly. He’d been happy here once, as a child, if only briefly. Before it had all gone to hell. Perhaps running away instead of staying and trying to fix it made him a coward, but it wasn’t just about him anymore. Elain was as silent as a shadow next to him, her head whipping back and forth as she scanned the quiet corridors. No doubt she expected to see the giant outline of the King waiting for them around every bend. Lucien reached out and grabbed her hand, squeezing gently. She smiled weakly in return and didn’t let go.

Once they were outside the castle Lucien breathed a sigh of relief. The landing pad was deserted and silent, the ship looming like a specter in the dark.

“Quick,” he whispered. “I don’t see any guards but we should still hurry.”

Elain nodded and hurried onto the ship without hesitation. Lucien had a sudden lurch of deja-vu as he followed her aboard, and he shook his head to clear his thoughts. He moved quickly, pulling back the gangplank, raising the sails, double checking their supplies. Elain stood guard as he readied the ship, and when everything was ready he met her gaze.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

He could see the fear in her eyes, but she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “No turning back now.”

Lucien’s blood sang at the sight of that steel. He grinned at her, and with a tilt of the wheel they lifted into the night sky.

-

Elain leaned against the side of the ship as they rose into the air, the wind whipping her hair around her head. Castle Koopa shrank below her, smaller and smaller, until it was as innocent-looking as a dollhouse. How strange, to be flying away from it, and not towards it.

Elain couldn’t quite believe she was really doing this. She expected to wake up at any moment, back in her chambers inside the King’s castle.

Or, perhaps she’d wake up safe and sound at home, inside her own castle. Somehow that was even more terrifying.

A creaking sound made her turn around. Lucien was lowering the flag, a grim expression on his handsome face. Once it was within his reach he ripped it off almost savagely and stared at it in dislike. When he lifted his gaze to her he seemed almost sheepish.

“Burn it or throw it overboard?” he asked with a quirk of his lips.

Elain couldn’t help but smile, even with the seriousness of the situation. “Why not both?”

Lucien grinned broadly and came to stand beside her. He held out the black and red cloth and glared at it again.

“Any last words?”

Elain looked at the menacing image of the King on the flag- teeth bared, eyes narrowed, his horns curving on top of his head. “Good riddance.”

Lucien shot her a grin, and then his eyes flashed like embers in the dark and the flag caught fire. Elain gasped and instinctively backed up a step. She shouldn’t have been that surprised, given the fact that she knew Lucien must be related to the King, but seeing him exhibit magic so casually had thrown her. With a shirt hiding his back he looked so human that if she ignored the horns it was easy to forget that he wasn’t a regular man.

The fire in his gaze died away as he whipped his head towards her and winced at the look on her face.

“Sorry,” he said gently. “I didn’t mean to scare you…”

Elain shook her head and stepped closer, mesmerized by the flames. The flag was ablaze, flames licking over Lucien’s hand, and yet he didn’t so much as flinch.

They stood in heavy silence, watching solemnly as the flag continued to burn. Pieces of fabric broke off and fluttered away in the wind, and eventually Lucien let it go. It glittered in the dark for a moment, like a floating lantern, and then it was gone.

A weight seemed to lift off her shoulders, as if that flag had been the last tether holding her back. They’d done it. They had escaped.

“I can’t believe it worked,” Lucien murmured, as if reading her thoughts.

“It feels so strange,” Elain admitted. “I’ve been thinking about it for so long. It doesn’t seem real.”

Lucien’s expression turned sad. “I feel the same way.”

There were so many questions Elain wanted to ask him, but now didn’t seem like the right time. Her eyes flicked upwards against her will, to those curved horns that were so like the King’s. Identical, really.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked, almost timidly.

Elain flushed and dragged her eyes back to his face. “Of course!”

“Do I frighten you?”

Elain blushed again. He’d caught her staring at his horns.

“No!” she replied with a sheepish smile. “You just…intrigue me.”

It was Lucien’s turn to blush, enough so that she could tell even in the dark.

“Oh?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

A laugh bubbled out of her throat, and it was like all the tension of the day suddenly melted away.

“I just mean…you know more about me than I do about you.”

The amusement sparkling in Lucien’s russet eyes faded away, and he dipped his head, letting his red hair fall over his face like a curtain.

“You don’t have to tell me,” she said quickly, kicking herself mentally. He’d been as much a prisoner as she had been, of course he wouldn’t want to talk about it.

“Maybe tomorrow,” he replied, his tone weary. “For now you should rest. We’ll fly the rest of the night, and then I’ll anchor down somewhere at daybreak. We’ll need to lie low during the day to avoid detection.”

Elain nodded, suddenly so grateful that he was there with her that she could have cried. It seemed like he had thought of it all. Almost like he’d been planning for a long time and had just been waiting for an opportunity.

The question was on the tip of her tongue. Something she’d been wondering ever since he told her his plans to steal the ship.

“If you knew how to fly the ship why did you never try to escape before?”

Lucien’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Elain bit her lip but held his gaze. After a few moments his expression softened, and Elain released a breath she hadn’t known she was holding.

“Maybe I just never had a good enough reason before,” he said with a sad smile.

Elain reached out and squeezed his hand, suddenly overly warm despite the cool night wind blowing around them.

“I’m glad you found one,” she whispered.

-

When Elain woke up the sun was warm on her face, and it was so pleasant that for a moment she simply lounged there, like a cat.

The events of the previous night slammed into her like a tsunami, and she sat bolt upright and scrambled towards the nearest porthole. She hadn't meant to sleep through the whole night, but evidently the burst of adrenaline had worn her out.

Lucien had landed the ship in the ocean, and the gentle rocking of the waves was so soothing that Elain wasn’t surprised she’d slept this long. For a moment she was blinded by the harsh sunlight, but as her vision adjusted she saw that they weren’t in the middle of the ocean, but bobbing just off the coast of a dazzling tropical beach. The sand was as white as a clean sheet of paper, the water so clear she could see colorful fish darting through the waves. Dotting the beach were tall trees with skinny trunks and fat, swaying leaves. Elain had never seen anything like them before. She gasped in delight and practically ran back up to the deck.

When she emerged she was greeted by warm sunlight on her shoulders, and she closed her eyes and tilted her head back in delight.

“Did you sleep well?”

Elain turned and came face to face with Lucien, who looked a lot less well-rested than she felt.

There were dark purple smudges under his eyes, and a general weariness in the way he held his limbs.

“Like a baby,” she replied sheepishly. “How late is it? You look like you haven’t slept a wink…”

Lucien waved a hand vaguely. “We’re still quite south, it was safer for me to stand guard.”

“I’m sorry! You should have woken me!”

Lucien waved away her protests, throwing her a grin that made her feel warm again, and not just from the sun. He was really quite handsome, really. Objectively, of course…

“We should be safe here until nightfall,” he said. “It’s not safe to fly during the day this far south, but with the ship in the water we should be incognito enough.”

Elain looked at the deserted water behind them, and the equally deserted beach in front. She was embarrassed that she hadn’t thought of such details herself during her own daydreams of escape, but she was eternally grateful that he had.

“Do you want to see the beach?” he asked, noting the direction of her gaze.

“Oh!” In truth she did, very much so, but she was also very aware of the exhaustion radiating off of him. “Later, after you’ve had some rest.”

“But…”

“You need to sleep, Lucien! Otherwise who will fly the ship?”

She planted her hands on her hips for good measure. Her defiance was laughable, really, considering her nose was level with his chest and he was part Koopaling with flame power, but Lucien seemed to hesitate nonetheless.

“We’re still close to Koopa Kingdom,” he argued, scanning the skies. “I should stay awake in case we need to fly…”

“And if that happens you won’t be much use dead on your feet!”

Lucien seemed to hesitate again, until a yawn betrayed him, so powerful that his entire body shook. Elain gave him a pointed look.

“Fine,” he relented. “Fine. But I’m staying above deck, just in case. And please stay on the ship, and wake me up right away if you see anything suspicious…”

“Yes, yes! I’ll be right here. Now go to sleep!”

With a few more weak protests Lucien piled up a few cloaks in a shaded corner of the deck and promptly fell asleep. Elain watched the rise and fall of his chest for a few moments. He looked so innocent like this, despite the horns, despite the power she now knew coursed through his veins. At that moment he looked as innocent as a cat curled up on a pile of blankets.

Who are you, she wondered. And how did we find each other?

Elain heeded Lucien’s warning at first and stayed on the ship, curling up with a book in a shaded spot not far from where he slept. But she was so distracted that after reading the first sentence for what felt like the twentieth time she snapped the book shut. The sound of the waves crashing onto the pristine beach was hypnotizing, like a siren song calling out to her. She could almost feel the sand running through her toes, warm where it was dry and deliciously cool where it was damp…

She glanced at Lucien again. He was fast asleep, with a cloak drawn up almost all the way over his face. The skies were empty, there were no looming dangers on the horizon. And besides, they were anchored right on the beach, and she wouldn’t go far. She would run back and wake him at the first sign of danger, like she’d promised.

With only a slight twinge of guilt Elain took off her shoes and climbed down off the ship and into the shallow waves. The water was surprisingly warm, almost like a bath, and for a moment Elain stood there and let the waves lap at her ankles. The bottom of her dress was immediately soaked, so she reached down and tied her skirts in a clumsy knot around her knees. Her legs were so pale that they were practically translucent in the sunlight. Elain giggled at the thought of how indecent she must look, wading through the water with her legs exposed.

The sand was warm underneath her toes, the sun hot on her shoulders, the breeze deliciously refreshing as it ruffled her hair. Elain plopped herself down on the sand and for a while simply took it all in. She’d flown over these islands countless times, had only dreamt that she might one day see them with her own eyes, and now here she was. On the run, yes, but still.

She felt bold, free- untethered for the first time in her life. With a laugh she fell backwards on the sand, arms splayed out, the sun beating down on her. Surely she’d be the color of a tomato very shortly, but who cared? It was so peaceful, with the hypnotizing crash of the waves at her feet, and the gentle, salty breeze kissing her skin. Almost peaceful enough to forget the very real danger they were in.

So peaceful that Elain might have dozed off, right there in the sand, and when she woke her stomach was rumbling and her throat was dry. She got up and dusted the sand from her dress and hair, wincing at the already reddening skin on her legs and arms. Perhaps falling asleep in broad sunshine hadn’t been wise.

The smart thing to do would have been to go back on the ship and find some food and water (and shade) but she’d be damned if they left this island before she could explore it.

She walked up and down the length of the beach twice, peering curiously at every shell and algae and piece of driftwood brought in by the tide. Her attention kept drifting to the jungle in the distance, and with another quick glance at the ship she crossed the beach and walked into the dense vegetation.

It was cooler amongst the vegetation, and damp, like the plants had retained moisture from the last time it rained. There were those skinny trees with the swaying leaves, vivid green ferns with leaves larger than her whole body, and flowers so bright they almost looked artificial. Elain had never seen plants like this before in her life. One plant in particular caught her eye- a shrub, with large blooms that were white on the outside and pink in their center. She was plucking a few of them when a thump behind her made her jump.

She whirled, heart racing, but nobody was there. The only sounds were the waves in the distance and her own ragged breathing.

Another thump, closer this time. Elain scanned the skies and the surrounding woods with increasing dread. Could someone be concealing themselves with magic? She was suddenly regretting her decision to walk so far on her own.

Something landed by her feet with that same muffled thump, and Elain jumped in fright before realizing that the thing was not a concealed enemy, but what appeared to be a piece of fallen fruit. A shaky laugh whooshed out of her and she bent to retrieve the fruit, her stomach rumbling again. It was a round, hard shell with a fuzzy exterior, and when she shook it made a slight sloshing sound, as if there was water inside. Elain was suddenly parched.

Opening the fruit, it turned out, was much harder than it looked. She tried bashing it on a sharp branch, she stomped on it, she stabbed it with a broken shell she found on the beach. She tried everything, and nothing seemed able to crack it open. Frustrated, she grabbed the fruit and threw it against a nearby tree trunk.

A shadow fell over her accompanied by the sound of amused chuckles, and Elain turned to find Lucien standing there, eyebrows raised in amusement.

“Remind me never to get on your bad side,” he teased with a grin.

Elain blushed, biting her lip to hide her grin. His hair was mussed from sleep, and he looked adorably disheveled as he blinked sleepily against the harsh sunlight.

“I was curious what was inside, but it’s quite stubborn, it turns out…”

Lucien laughed again. “As are you, it would appear. I see you followed my warning to stay on the ship.”

Elain felt a twinge of guilt, preparing to launch into an apology, but then he threw her another grin and she realized he was teasing.

“Sorry,” she replied sheepishly. “I probably should have, I think I’m already sunburned…”

“The island look suits you.” His gaze dropped to her bare legs, and heat bloomed on her cheeks again.

Thankfully Lucien turned towards her discarded fruit and didn’t notice how flustered she became under his gaze. “Have you ever had one of these?” he called over his shoulder.

“No. I don’t even know what they’re called.”

“Coconuts!” he said with a grin.

Elain was just about to ask how he planned to open it when he lifted it above his head and impaled it on one of his horns with force. She clapped a hand to her mouth to muffle her giggles as he stood there with a silly grin on his face.

“Did that hurt?”

He shrugged, lifting the coconut off his horn with a pop. “It hurt the coconut more than me.” He held the fruit out to her with an elaborate flourish. “Your coconut, my lady.”

Elain giggled again and took a sip. The liquid inside was thick and sweet, and she drank greedily until it was empty. When she lowered it Lucien was still watching her, russet eyes glittering with amusement. It was truly unlady-like behavior, exposing her legs and drinking straight from a coconut, but she was having too much fun to care.

“And? Did it live up to your expectations?”

Elain wiped her mouth and dropped the empty shell onto the sand. “Any chance you can open a couple more?”

They spent the rest of the afternoon exploring the beach and jungle, sipping from coconuts until there was a mountain of shells on the beach. Lucien was good company, the conversation between them so easy and comfortable that if it weren’t for the way he kept scanning the skies with worry, it might have been nothing more than a fun afternoon with a friend.

As the afternoon sun started making its descent towards the horizon they sat side by side on the shore to watch the sunset. They were sitting so close together than Elain could feel Lucien’s body warmth, and she had to resist the urge to lean her head against his shoulder. With everything that had happened it was hard to believe that they were still practically strangers.

“I wish we could stay here longer,” Lucien said with a sigh, breaking their comfortable silence.

The vividly blue sky was fading into pinks and purples, the sun a fiery orb on the horizon. He sounded so melancholy that Elain scooted closer to him until their sides were touching.

“Me too.”

“Maybe one day,” he said sadly. “When it’s safe.”

Neither of them said anything for a while, but Elain was sure they were both thinking the same thing. Would they ever be safe, while the King was out there, hunting them? She glanced up at Lucien and flushed when she saw he was already looking at her. Elain dipped her head, unsure how to ask what she was so desperate to know. They’d kept their conversations light all day, and she’d given the topic of Lucien’s backstory a wide berth.

“You haven’t asked,” he said softly, as if reading her mind. He bumped her shoulder gently and Elain forced herself to meet his intense gaze.

“I didn’t want to push.”

Lucien was quiet for so long that she almost told him to forget about it, but then he sighed and turned to face the sunset. The bright red glow of the setting sun made his ruby hair glitter like a dying fire and set sharp contrasts on the angular panes of his face.

“My father was the previous King of Koopa Kingdom,” he started, still staring off into the distance.

Elain’s eyes widened at his sudden admission. She had suspected as much, but knowing that it was true made it even more horrible. Elain didn’t have any siblings, but she couldn’t imagine being on bad terms with your brother to the point of being held captive.

“Koopa Kingdom wasn’t always the way it is now. When I was young it was as lush and beautiful as the plains around Mushroom Castle. We had farms, lakes, rivers. I spent the majority of my youth avoiding lessons and duties in favor of climbing trees.”

That made Elain smile. For some reason she could picture it- young Lucien, a devilish grin on his face, hiding in the branches as his mother called out to him.

“And then…” he trailed off, his russet eyes shuttering with the memories. “The volcano was the physical catalyst, but our court had been rotting from the inside out for a long time. By the time our lands became covered with lava my family was as broken as the land. My brothers were greedy, my father cruel, and in the end they all destroyed each other. Except…except for the current king, of course…”

He took a deep, shuttering breath and let it out with a woosh. “It wasn’t so much that I was a prisoner and more that I had nowhere else to go.”

It was so sad, so unfair, and Elain’s heart was heavy for him, her new friend. She leaned her cheek against his shoulder and felt him stiffen for a moment before he relaxed again.

“The King told me not to speak of you with anyone but him.”

Lucien seemed to hesitate. “The King works hard to maintain a certain image to the rest of the world. I guess I’m a threat to that.”

Because he wasn’t cruel and evil like the rest of that doomed kingdom, but kind, and good. There was nothing Elain could say to that, so she simply sat next to him and watched as the sun burned hot and then slipped away below the horizon.

-

“Are you sure about this?” Lucien asked warily. It seemed like a supremely bad idea to him but Elain seemed so excited that he didn’t have the heart to tell her no.

“Yes! Just hold still.”

Lucien grumbled vaguely but sat still as Elain wrapped the cloth around his face, carefully avoiding his horns. He glanced out of the nearest porthole and winced.

“It looks like a really bad sand storm,” he tried again.

The Island territory was so vast that it had taken them over a week of flying only at night to clear it. Lucien had breathed a sigh of relief when they had finally crossed over into the deserts, but his relief had quickly faded when the clear, sunny skies of the islands had made way for a raging, unrelenting sand storm. He’d been forced to land the ship on the outskirts of a half-submerged town, and they’d been grounded for two days.

“Exactly,” Elain declared. “Nobody would be stupid enough to go outside in this weather, you said it yourself. We’ll be perfectly safe.”

Her eyes kept flitting down to his bare chest as she spoke, her cheeks tinged pink, and Lucien resisted the urge to flex under her gaze. He kept telling himself that it was too damn hot to wear a shirt, but in truth his choice of wardrobe had more to do with how she bit her lip and blushed every time she glanced at him. Elain herself had cut off the skirts of a few of her dresses at the knee, and it was a supreme effort to not keep glancing down at her bare legs.

“Fine,” he reluctantly agreed. “But we shouldn’t go far, it’s easy to get lost around here…” Elain’s eyes shone with excitement as she fashioned her own head scarf out of stray scraps of fabric. “You worry too much. I bet they’re not even looking for us anymore.”

Lucien’s stomach churned with guilt. It was his fault that this was her life now, constantly looking over her shoulder, wearing disguises to avoid being recognized. He could believe that his own people might not be inclined to come looking for him, but they both knew Elain’s friends wouldn’t rest until she was found. There would be a confrontation at some point, and Lucien was dreading it.

The sand stung his exposed skin when they climbed off the ship, and he immediately regretted his choice of clothing. Judging from the way Elain was huddling into him he guessed she was having the same thoughts.

“We can go back…” His words were swallowed by the howling wind, but before he could say anything else Elain had grabbed his hand and dragged him towards the village in the distance.

The wind was so strong that though they kept walking the village never seemed to get any closer. Lucien pointed out a shimmering spot on the horizon, which turned out to not be a mirage as he had expected, but an oasis. The shallow pond was shaded with large palms, and it would have been an idyllic spot, if not for the raging storm around them.

Every few minutes Lucien looked over his shoulder to make sure the ship was still visible. The last thing they needed was to get lost in the desert and have to ask someone for help. By now the sand had piled up so high that the hull was half covered. If the storm didn’t let up soon they’d be forced to either take off and take their chances in the sky, or risk getting buried to the point of no return.

Elain had bundled her makeshift headscarf so tightly around her face that he could only see her eyes, but the jab she gave him in the ribs said everything he couldn’t see from her expression.

“What?”

She rolled her eyes and poked him again. “STOP WORRYING!” she yelled, her voice muffled by fabric and wind.

Lucien grinned at her even though she couldn’t see it and held up his hands in surrender. Elain’s eyes glittered, and Lucien knew he’d never get tired of that sight. Even if it wouldn’t last, couldn’t last. He’d enjoy her happiness while it lasted.

He was still staring at her when her eyes widened and she excitedly pointed to a spot in the distance. They had just arrived at the top of a large dune, and suddenly the village appeared in front of them.

Village was perhaps an exaggeration. It was more a collection of brightly-colored buildings, the sand-swept roads dotted with cactuses standing tall like soldiers. Strangest of all, however, were the ruins. Just beyond the edge of the village was a large inverted pyramid, sticking out of sand as it defied gravity. Lucien could see something prowling in front of the entrance, and he grabbed Elain’s hand and led her towards the village before she could lead him towards the pyramid instead. He’d had plenty of encounters with sphinxes before, and he didn’t need to add one to his current list of anxieties.

The village was mostly deserted, with only a few brave souls bundled like they were hurrying to their destinations. As they walked Elain looked around with wide eyes, her delight so palpable he could almost feel it. She hadn’t removed her hand from his, and his skin tingled from the contact.

In the center of the village was a square, with a large marble statue in the center, a small chapel, and several shops with closed signs in their windows. Everything was covered in plants- cactuses coming out of the ground, window boxes full of colorful blooms, walls covered with ivy. They heard music coming from what looked like a restaurant, and before he could protest Elain had dragged him inside.

It was such a relief to be out of the storm that he didn’t even protest. There were lazy fans circling overhead, sending cool air on his overheated skin, and the atmosphere was relaxed and jolly. Elain looked up at him through her eyelashes in what he was quickly beginning to recognize as her signature pleading look, and Lucien sighed in resignation. It was no use trying to fight against those eyes, and besides, he was hot and tired and all he wanted to do was sit and drink an entire pitcher of ice water.

He let himself be led to a table, grateful that it was in a relatively dark and quiet corner of the restaurant. Elain went to unwrap her headscarf but Lucien grabbed her wrist to stop her. Elain might never have been here before, but that didn’t mean her face wouldn’t be recognized throughout the kingdom. She nodded in comprehension and unwrapped her face only enough to eat, letting the fabric hang low over her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Lucien murmured. “It’s just, if someone recognizes you, they might think I’ve taken you by force…” But isn’t that what you’ve done? Isn’t that what she’ll realize, when she finds out who you are?

Elain reached across the table to squeeze his hand, and Lucien was suddenly glad for his own head scarf so she couldn't see him flush at the contact.

“Don’t feel bad,” she replied fiercely. “It’s my fault we’re on the run. I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me.” Lucien must have looked uncertain at that, and she squeezed his hand for emphasis. “Truly, without you I’d still be in that tower. Or worse, in my own castle.”

She looked so miserable at the thought that Lucien’s stomach twisted. “Was it really so bad that you needed to run away? Couldn’t you have told your people that you wanted more than a quiet life in a castle?”

Elain shook her head grimly. “They wouldn’t have understood. To them I’m little more than a symbol. A pretty, agreeable monarch they can sit on a throne and show off to the entire Kingdom.” Her eyes flashed as she spoke, and Lucien’s blood sang for her, and for that spark he saw in her. She might be his prisoner in a way, but never again would he lock her up in a tower. “My life there was so dull that sometimes I thought I might die of boredom.” “And now look at you,” he teased, wanting to lighten the mood. “On the run with this.” He gestured at the horns poking out of the fabric wrapped around his head, and she laughed.

Dishes were brought out, fragrant meats, roasted vegetables, bowls of rice, crunchy bread. Elain chatted as they ate, telling him about her childhood, her dreams, how she’d always wanted to travel but had never been allowed to. Lucien avoided her questions when he could, and spun white lies when he couldn’t, hating himself more with every lie he told her.

A band was playing in the corner, and at some point people drifted onto a dance floor in front of the stage. Their waiter had brought them a bottle of clear liquor along with their food, and Lucien had downed just enough of it to feel relaxed and slightly reckless.

Their dishes were cleared, and Elain sat back in her chair, looking at the dancers with a wistful smile tugging at her lips.

“Would you like to dance?” Lucien blurted.

She looked at him in surprise, her cheeks turning pink. Lucien downed another shot of the burning liquor, feeling like an idiot. He was just about to tell her to forget about it when she smiled shyly at him.

“I would love to dance.”

Lucien grinned and held out his hand. Elain blushed again as she took his hand, letting him lead her to the dancefloor. A few people glanced at his horns warily, stepping back to make room for them.

A singer had joined the group of guitarists, and she launched into a slow, melancholy tune. Lucien didn’t let himself overthink it as he took one of Elain’s hands in his and pressed the other to her lower back. They swayed in time with the music, and Lucien decided if he were to die that night he would die happy.

After a few minutes Elain tilted her head back to look at him, and she looked so happy and trusting that Lucien couldn’t breathe. He’d had enough of the liquor to shove aside his guilt and let himself indulge in the feel of her in his arms. It felt so good, so right.

His gaze dipped to her rosy lips and it was an exercise in self control to not cradle her face and kiss her in the middle of this restaurant. She might trust him, but as far as Elain knew they had only known each other for a few weeks.

“Lucien?” she asked shyly.

“Yes?”

She bit her lip, and Lucien couldn’t help the breath that wooshed out of him at the sight.

“I’m really glad I met you.”

Lucien stopped swaying, his heart beating so swiftly he thought he might vomit. “I’m really glad I met you, too,” he murmured.

She smiled at him, more radiant than the sun, and he grinned back, feeling silly with his affection for her.

Elain let go of his hand to wrap her arms around his neck, and then she closed the gap between them and laid her cheek against his chest. Her sweet scent filled his nostrils, and Lucien held her close, pretending just for tonight that they were two normal people, and not two monarchs on the run.

-

The temperature cooled as they continued their journey, past the rolling plains surrounding Mushroom Castle and towards the dense Forests to the north. Lucien had deemed it safe to start flying during the day, and Elain was glad- the Forests were dark and gloomy and if they absolutely had to land there she would rather do it at night when she was asleep than during the day.

The woods were dense, and by the time they found a clearing large enough to fit their ship night had fallen. All around them loomed impossibly tall trees, some so tall that Elain could barely see the tops of them. It was eerily quiet in the woods, as if even the wind didn’t dare make too much noise. The only sound around them was the soft bubbling of a creek, and the occasional sound of an animal in the distance. Elain wasn’t sure what kind of animals lived in these parts, but she wasn’t too keen on venturing out to find out.

Lucien, it seemed, didn’t share in her fears, and he stood out on the deck and looked around the woods with a wide grin on his face. As the distance between them and Koopa Kingdom grew he seemed more and more relaxed, his anxiety giving way to easy smiles that sent Elain’s stomach fluttering.

Something had shifted between them that day in the desert, when they had held each other close as they swayed to the music. Their easy camaraderie was still there, but it felt charged, taunt, with every casual brush of fingers or lingering look feeding fire to the flames.

Elain couldn’t explain it, the pull she felt towards him. It almost felt as if she had known him for a lot longer than she had. Sometimes she caught him looking at her with an intensity that left her breathless, like he could see right through her, all the good and the bad.

“How do you feel about fresh fish for dinner?” Lucien asked from where he stood on the deck, bringing her out of her reverie.

Elain flushed as she realized she had been staring at him. “You think it’s safe out there?” she asked uncertainly.

“Where’s the adventurer who dragged me out into a sand storm?” he teased.

“Aren’t there…animals, and things?”

Lucien shrugged and made a vague motion with his hand that didn’t quite put her at ease. “Sure, but nothing too menacing. The only thing we really need to worry about are the giant goombas, but they’re quite skittish. Besides, we’ll be able to hear them from miles away.”

Elain gaped at him in horror, and Lucien winced. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “That’s probably not what you wanted to hear, but I promise we’ll be fine. Tell you what,” he added, as Elain stayed frozen on the spot, “If you can help me gather some firewood I’ll light a fire, it should help to keep them away.”

Elain was still not convinced but she followed him off the ship regardless, figuring that at the very least she would rather be near Lucien if they were attacked by a herd of giants. Lucien grinned and pointed to a spot near the creek before rolling his pants up to his knees and walking right into the water. She was about to ask what he was doing when he reached into the water and chucked a fish towards her. He’d tied up his long ruby hair, a few strands coming loose to frame his face, and Elain knew she was staring but she absolutely could not help it.

“Didn’t I give you a job?” he teased, winking at her.

“Just making sure you don’t drown!” she quipped back, lowering her gaze firmly to the ground in search of firewood. “I can’t fly that ship, you know!” Suddenly she was glad to have the cover of darkness to hide her blush.

“I should teach you.”

Elain dropped the pile of sticks she was holding and turned to stare at him again. “Really?”

Lucien shrugged and swooped down to catch another fish. “You should know how. It’s easy, really, it’s only the landing that can get tricky sometimes. Maybe we can practice once we’re north, the snow will make for a nicer landing.”

The mention of their destination made her stomach clench with unease. She’d been putting off asking him about his plans after they arrived north, afraid to hear what his answer would be. She didn’t know if she had the nerve to ask him to stay, and if he would even consider it if she did ask.

Lucien waded out of the creek and frowned at her pitiful pile of sticks. “Let’s only hope you’re better at flying than at gathering firewood.”

Elain crossed her arms and lifted her chin with mock defiance. “I guess it depends on how good a teacher you are.”

Lucien’s grin was nothing short of wicked, and when their gazes locked she saw a flame had sparked to life in his russet eyes. It shouldn’t have taken her by surprise but for a moment she couldn’t breathe. All of a sudden she was back in Mushroom Castle, holding her ground as the King Koopa stared her down with that same fiery gaze.

The very same eyes, though one set belonged on a giant reptile and the other on a…what was he, exactly? Not quite a man, not quite Koopa.

My brothers were greedy, my father cruel, and in the end they all destroyed each other. Except…except for the current king, of course…

How could he be so different and yet so similar?

Lucien was giving her that look again- the one with the intensity of a forge, the one that almost looked like a question. Or else, like an offer.

With a supreme effort Elain tore her gaze away from those eyes, suddenly afraid that she might know what that question was. That maybe she had suspected all along.

-

They ate their grilled fish by the fire, sitting side by side on a blanket. The flames crackled merrily in front of them, and it might have been romantic, had it not been for the sudden tension in the air, so thick he could almost feel it.

Elain knew. Or else she strongly suspected, Lucien was certain of it.

He had done something, or said something. He wasn’t sure what, but how else to explain her sudden shift in behavior? One minute she had been joking around with him as usual, and the next she had stared at him as if she had never seen him before.

She didn’t seem afraid, and yet- she hadn’t been afraid of him for a long time. Was it simply self-preservation that prevented her from trying to run away from him, or something else?

Elain bit her lip and glanced at him furtively for what was probably the hundredth time in the last twenty minutes.

“Are you alright?” he asked, trying to sound concerned and yet casual at the same time.

Are you freaking out because you’ve just realized that I’M actually the fire breathing monster we’ve been supposedly running away from this entire time?

Do you see me?

Do you see?

“I’m fine,” she mumbled, dipping her chin so that her thick curls hid her face like a curtain.

Before he could stop himself Lucien reached out and gently swept her hair over her shoulder. He heard her sharp inhale, but she didn’t recoil from him as he had expected her to.

“Look at me,” he whispered.

See me.

She looked up at him, her fawn-coloured eyes wide and reflecting the flickering flames. He moved his fingers from her hair to her cheek, and she leaned into his touch, ever so slightly. “Tell me,” he prompted.

Elain seemed to hesitate, but she held his gaze. “Why are you not afraid of King Koopa catching up to us?”

It was no use trying to deny it, and besides, he didn’t want to. He had never meant to lie to her more than strictly necessary.

“I think you know,” he murmured, his heart in his throat. He brushed his thumb across her cheekbone, wanting to freeze this moment forever in his mind.

“Who are you?” It didn’t sound like a demand, or an accusation, but merely like curiosity.

Lucien shifted closer to her until she had to tilt her head back to look at him. His horns cast menacing shadows behind her, but she didn’t cower from him. Instead he watched as her eyes dipped towards his mouth, and her own rosy pink lips parted as her breath quickened.

“You know me, Princess.”

Princess. If she hadn’t suspected before then she had to now. Her eyes widened slightly, the only indication that she had understood. Yet still she didn’t move away.

“Do I?” she whispered.

Lucien leaned down until their noses were only an inch apart. Her pulse was racing underneath his fingertips, keeping time with his own erratic heartbeat. “Yes. You’re the only one who ever has.”

“Why?” Her question was no more than an exhaled breath.

Instead of answering he closed the gap between them, pressing his lips to hers in a feather-like kiss. More like a caress of lips, gentle enough that she could push him away if she wanted to.

But when her hands crept up to his chest and wrapped into his shirt it wasn’t to push, but to pull him closer. Lucien kissed her again, firmly this time, and she fell into him, snaking her hands up around his neck.

Elain sighed against his lips and Lucien drank in the sound, reveling in every little noise she made, in the taste and scent and feel of her. He’d been dreaming about this for so long that it didn’t seem real. Surely she would push away, slap him, punch him, and he’d deserve it, and so much more…

But she didn’t, so Lucien only wrapped an arm around her back and buried his other hand in her hair and lost himself in her. He ran his tongue along her bottom lip and tasted the charred fish they’d eaten mixed with the taste of her, and it was so heady that he didn’t notice the rumbling in the distance. Especially not as she parted her lips and her own tongue darted out to brush against his own, her fingers tangling in his hair in a way that was sure to drive him mad.

He didn’t hear anything at all until Elain broke the kiss and stared at him with eyes that were wide with surprise, her rosy lips slightly parted.

Here it is, he thought. He braced himself for the slap, the anger, the accusations. But just as he opened his mouth to launch into a torrent of apologies she pressed a finger to his lips to silence him.

“Did you hear that?”

Lucien frowned, following the direction of her gaze. “Hear what?”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth he felt it as much as he heard it. The ground shook with vibrations that reminded him horribly of that first volcano eruption at Castle Koopa, a sign of something terrible and ominous approaching. Lucien’s mouth went dry, and he jumped to his feet, holding Elain close as if he could keep her safe by sheer will.

“What’s…”

“Giants,” he said simply.

By some miracle they seemed to be approaching from the opposite side of the clearing from where he had landed the ship. The last they needed was to be on the run and on foot.

Elain gasped and clutched him tighter, her eyes scanning the dark forest wildly. Some idiotic, male part of him was preening at the fact that she considered him her protector in this situation, and not just one more monster.

“Run back to the ship, Elain,” he urged.

“What?! What do you mean, shouldn’t we leave?”

Lucien shook his head, just as the sound of falling trees echoed from the other side of the clearing.

“If we try to run they might catch up and attack the ship. I’ll have to hold them off for a while so we can take off.”

“You can’t fight off giants! You don’t even have any weapons…”

“Fire,” Lucien said simply. “They’re scared of fire.”

Elain gaped at him incredulously before glancing at the small fire they had cooked their meal on, her gaze so uncertain that he almost wanted to laugh.

But then three giant misshapen forms crashed into the clearing, and Elain let out a shriek of terror. The giants started at the sudden noise and then turned their beady eyes in their direction.

“ELAIN, RUN!”

With a wave of his hand their cozy fire exploded into a bonfire, and with that he took off at a run towards the giants, shifting as he went into the reptilian form of King Koopa.

-

Elain was frozen on the spot. First by the looming, impossibly tall shapes of the giants lumbering through the trees.

And then by the sight of what attacked them.

It shouldn’t have been that much of a shock. Lucien had more or less admitted the truth, but suspecting it and seeing it with her own eyes were two different things altogether.

It happened so quickly that she hardly tracked the movement. One moment Lucien was running through the clearing, ruby hair flying behind him, and the next he had shifted into the monstrous form of King Koopa without so much as stumbling. His roar broke the eerie silence of the woods, and the startled yells of the giants were loud enough that Elain felt the vibration through the ground.

The first burst of flame out of Lucien shook her out of her trance, but she didn’t run to the ship. She was rooted to the ground, her eyes trained on the great, scaled beast that scorched the forest to ash before her very eyes.

Elain wasn’t afraid, not as much as she should be, at least, and she knew that maybe she would never be again. There was no enemy he wouldn’t face for her, no corner of the earth he wouldn’t take her to if she asked. She knew it in her heart, just like she had known not to be afraid of him.

She might not be a fighter, but she wasn’t a damsel in distress either, so she stood in front of his flames and watched as the feared beast lit the woods on fire. The giants shrieked and stumbled into each other with fright, but Lucien was faster and smarter. Soon a barrier of fire stood between them and the giants, and with an ear-splitting roar of frustration they retreated back into the woods.

Lucien roared back, illuminating the night with flame, and one of the giants swiped at him before retreating after his fellows.

Elain screamed again and broke into a run as Lucien flew through the air before landing with a loud thud. When he didn’t immediately move white-hot panic shot through her, and she couldn’t remember ever being this afraid.

“LUCIEN!”

Elain threw herself to the ground beside him, and then he stirred, groaning faintly.

“Lucien!” Elain reached out a hand and pressed it to his cheek. His skin was rough and textured with scales, but when he stirred again and opened his eyes it was the same russet eyes she had always known.

“M’okay…” he murmured, pushing himself up into a sitting position with some difficulty. He was so large that she had to stand to be at eye level with him.

“Are you hurt?!” She scanned him from head to toe, sagging with relief when she saw he seemed unharmed.

“I’m alright, Princess.” He smiled ruefully. “Takes more than a giant to take me down.”

Elain loosed a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding, and before she could stop herself she threw her arms around him and buried her face in his neck. His skin was rough but warm, unnaturally so, like she had always imagined it to be.

Lucien wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off the ground as he stood. “Let’s go,” he murmured.

Elain let him carry her back to the ship, her face still pressed against his neck. How many times had he done exactly this?

When he set her down it was with the gentleness of a less menacing creature, one who didn’t breathe fire or have horns on his head. Except now she knew the two could be one and the same.

“Eyes up here, Princess,” he said with a slight smirk, pointing to his face.

Elain frowned, wondering if he was pointing to an injury she had missed. But then with a faint burst of fiery light he shifted, and the person she simply knew as Lucien stood in front of her again. Elain didn’t mean to look, but a quick dip of her gaze quickly revealed that his clothing had apparently not survived the transition. She whirled, partly to give him privacy but mostly to hide the heat rising up her face, and Lucien chuckled.

She heard him shuffling around, and then they were airborne, the blaze falling away below them.

And then she felt more than heard him walk up behind her. Elain didn’t know why she was suddenly nervous, only that she desperately wanted to go back to that moment by the fire.

“I’m sorry.”

Elain turned to look at him and saw that his handsome face was wracked with guilt. He’d wrapped a stray blanket around his waist but had left his chest bare. “What for? You saved us.”

Lucien smiled wryly. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

Elain couldn’t help a little grin of her own, even with her heart beating a staccato rhythm in her chest. “The only other time you’ve apologized to me is when you kidnapped me at night instead of during the day.”

Lucien loosed a shaky laugh. “Well, that was pretty shitty…”

The fact that he sounded nervous too made her feel bold, and she took a step forward until she had to lift her chin to look up at him.

“Are you going to apologize for the rest?” she asked.

“Should I?” Elain quirked an eyebrow, and his answering grin was the definition of smug. “Was it really kidnapping, if you came willingly?”

“If I remember correctly I did ask you not to take me,” she shot back.

She expected him to chuckle, for his eyes to light with flame, but he only stared at her. And then something in his gaze shuttered, and his throat bobbed.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Elain was so taken aback by the sincerity in his tone that she didn’t know what to say.

“I’m sorry for tricking you,” he continued. He lifted a hand to brush her hair back from her face, letting his fingers skim her cheek. “I never meant…I just…”

“You just what?” she pushed.

“I’ve loved you since the first moment I ever laid eyes on you, and it’s made me very, very stupid.”

Elain flushed again, both from the admission and the obvious regret in his eyes.

“When you said you didn’t want to go back home…you sounded so desperate, I would have done anything for you. I still would do anything for you. Tell me where you want to go, and I’ll take you there. Anywhere.” His voice sounded choked, his gaze fierce as he looked at her.

“And then?” she asked in a small voice.

Lucien swallowed thickly, still staring at her as though he meant to memorize her face.

“And then I’ll leave you alone. I promise.”

Elain’s heart stuttered with panic. Surely he knew that’s not what she wanted? When she opened her mouth to protest he pressed a finger to her lips to silence her, as she had done earlier.

“I thought you might come to love me, too,” he said miserably. “If you knew the real me, if you saw that there’s more to me than just the monster…”

Elain pushed his hand away. “You’re not a monster, Lucien. Stop saying that.”

Lucien blinked, his mouth opening and closing comically.

“And who says I don’t?” she continued, almost defiantly.

“Who says you don’t…what?”

He looked so hopeful and confused that she could only smile. “Who says I don’t love you, stupid?”

For a moment he looked confused still, frowning as if he couldn’t comprehend what she had said. And then a spark came to life in his eyes, and his smile was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

“Does that mean you don’t want me to leave you alone?” he murmured, wrapping his arms around her back and drawing her in close.

“You really are very, very, stupid if you haven’t figured that out yet.”

He dipped his head until his breath tickled her lips. “Good. Because I don’t think I would have been able to anyway.”

Elain rolled her eyes and shoved him playfully, but then his lips were on hers again, his mouth curving into a smile as he kissed her. She sighed and melted into the kiss, pressing her palms against his bare chest. His lips were warm and soft, his fingers impossibly gentle as he cradled the back of her head, and it felt so right that she thought her heart might burst. He tasted like smoke and fresh air, and she wanted to drink him in, to fill her senses with him until he became a part of her.

It didn’t matter that they were two runaways, both with titles and subjects they should be looking over instead of traveling the world like vagabonds. The only thing that mattered was that they were together, in that moment, on the deck of a flying ship with nothing but the moon and stars as their witness.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, searching, tongues languidly exploring, hands gently caressing. And then Lucien’s teeth nipped playfully at her bottom lip, and it was like something inside her snapped. Their embrace turned hungry, greedy, years of tension being set free like a dormant volcano unleashing itself onto the world. She ran her hands up his torso, feeling the muscled contours of his rippled stomach and broad chest, before burying her hands into his hair to tug him closer. Lucien growled against her mouth, sending a shiver of heat through her.

Suddenly she was all too aware of not just the fact that Lucien was only wearing a blanket wrapped around his hips, but that she could feel his hard cock pressing against her.

All coherent thought faded along with her restraint, and before she could stop herself she ran her hands back down his chest, letting her nails scrape his skin slightly. With slightly shaky fingers she started to undo the knot holding up his blanket, but with a lightning-quick movement Lucien grabbed her wrists to still them.

“What’s your hurry, Princess?” he asked, his voice low and husky with desire. His russet eyes were ablaze like the volcano that raged over his lands, and the sight made Elain’s knees go weak.

“Let me see you,” she complained. She didn’t care how pathetic she sounded- at that moment there was nothing she wanted more than to see him naked in front of her.

“That’s hardly fair, is it? I’m at a clear disadvantage here,” he teased.

Elain was about to growl in frustration when his hands moved to her neck to undo the clasp on her cloak. The fabric fell to the floor with a woosh, and she shivered at the cold air seeping through the long sleeves of her dress. Lucien waved a hand and the air around them instantly warmed as he wrapped them in a bubble of warmth.

She shivered again but not from cold as his hands trailed down her back and tugged gently at the laces of her dress. He dipped his head and started pressing a trail of kisses up her throat, all the way from her shoulder to the sensitive skin below her ear. Elain’s mind was mush, all her senses focused solely on him and the feel of his lips and hands on her.

Her hands wandered, sliding over the emerald green plates of armor on his back. They felt like hardened leather, smooth but hard as a shell. Lucien hissed sharply and nipped at her neck with his teeth.

“Sorry,” she gasped.

Lucien laughed, a low rumbling sound. “You can touch me anywhere you like, Elain.”

With that pulled the laces free and ran his hands up her bare back before tugging the dress over her shoulders. Elain shimmied the fabric down her hips until it fell in a heap on top of her discarded cloak and she stood bare from the waist up, in nothing but her undergarments.

Lucien’s gaze was so hungry that Elain was surprised she hadn’t burst into flames yet. A little keening noise escaped his lips as his gaze roved over her body, and it made Elain feel bold.

“Your turn,” she said, slightly more breathlessly than she would have liked.

Lucien smirked with pure male arrogance. “Fair is fair,” he agreed. He swiftly undid the knot holding up his blanket and then it, too, fell to the floor.

Elain’s eyes dipped to the carved muscles of his lower stomach, to the trail of red hair below his belly button, and then her mouth went dry at the sight of his cock, long and thick and achingly hard. Her fingers moved of their own accord to wrap around the base of him, stroking experimentally, and Lucien tipped his head back and groaned.

She gasped as he hoisted her up into his arms again, as easily and smoothly as if she weighed nothing at all. It might have been wrong but she loved how small she felt in his arms, how large and powerful he was by comparison. She held his fiery gaze as he walked her down the stairs to his own cabin and set her down on his bed with a gentleness that made her heart ache.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his eyes soft with affection. “How did I get so lucky?”

“You kidnapped a Princess,” Elain replied with a giggle.

“Ahh yes, that’s right. And what a decision that was.”

“Kiss me, Lucien.”

Lucien obliged, kissing her hungrily, as if he wanted to drink her in. His hands caressed up the sides of her body to fondle her breasts, squeezing as he teased her nipples with his thumbs. Elain arched into his touch, desperate for more.

“Lucien…” She didn’t know what she wanted to say, other than more.

“Yes?” he whispered. “Tell me what you want.”

He lowered his mouth to press kisses along her collarbone. Elain’s fingers moved of their own accord to trail along the curved length of his horns, wondering if he would be able to feel it. They felt like the armor on his back, and he shivered at her touch.

“Tell me,” he prompted.

His mouth moved lower still to lick and suck at her breasts, and Elain could only moan, tangling her fingers in his hair. She didn’t know how he managed to remain coherent when words were inconceivable to her.

“Touch me,” she moaned.

His teeth grazed her nipple and she hissed at the jolt of pain. He kissed and caressed the reddened skin, so unhurried that it only made Elain more wild.

“Here?” he asked, sliding his hand up the inside of her thigh.

Elain wriggled her hips, as if it would bring his fingers higher to where she wanted them.

“Or maybe here?”

His fingers slid higher still, and they moaned in unison as he teased her through the thin fabric of her underwear. She was so wet that she could feel the fabric clinging to her as Lucien’s long fingers rubbed her maddeningly slowly.

With a quick tug he had tugged her underwear down her legs. Elain squirmed, suddenly shy under his gaze, so dark and hungry she might as well have been a meal.

But then Lucien was moving down her body, pressing kisses to her stomach and dipping his tongue into her bellybutton, and her shyness faded into mindless lust.

The handful of men she’d been with had been mediocre at best with their mouths, but somehow she knew that wouldn’t be the case with Lucien. He hooked her legs over his shoulders and smirked at her devilishly before licking a hot stripe straight up her center. That one lick was like a revelation, the world re-forming itself into something new.

Elain’s fingers flew to his hair, tangling in the silken strands to hold him there. The noises coming out of her might have been embarrassing had she not been too addled by lust to care.

Lucien took his time, teasing her as if she was a meal he wanted to savor. He ran his tongue through her slick folds, he clamped his mouth around her clit, he licked and sucked and teased, moaning against her as if he was enjoying this as much as she was.

When she felt him tease her entrance with his fingertip her hips bowed off the bed, silently urging him for more. Lucien only laughed with the flat of his tongue pressed against her, the vibration of it sending straight fire through her.

“Say please,” he teased, looking up at her with eyes so full of lust that she nearly came undone from the heat in them.

“Please,” she whined, uncaring how pathetic she might sound. She’d make him beg later.

Lucien smirked and slowly slid a finger inside her, and then another, pumping in and out as he continued to stare at her. Pleasure was building inside her, coiling tight in the pit of her stomach.

“Tell me you’re mine,” Lucien growled, increasing his pace. She was so wet that she could hear the slick slide of his fingers as he pumped her roughly.

“Yours,” she moaned.

Lucien dipped his mouth back to her, his earlier leisurely explorations replaced with an urgency that matched Elain’s growing desperation. She was wriggling her hips against his face with abandon, chasing the pleasure growing inside her, shimmering just out of reach. Lucien crooked his fingers, hitting a spot inside her that had her seeing stars, and then she was flying off the edge, his name falling from her lips in a scream.

Lucien rode her through it, prolonging her pleasure with his fingers and tongue. When her vision came back to normal he kissed the inside of her quivering thighs before moving back up her body to press a scorching kiss to her lips. Elain could taste herself on him and instead of being repulsive it only made her burn hotter.

Her hands roved over his body as she pulled him to her, gripping him as if she could bring him closer still. His cock twitched against her stomach and she reached down to stroke him again. Lucien groaned, tipping his head back again, exposing the smooth column of his neck. Suddenly Elain was desperate to taste him, to brand him as hers just as surely as she was his. She leaned forward and licked directly over his Adam's apple, watching it bob as he swallowed thickly.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he groaned.

Elain huffed a laugh and pushed at his chest until he fell to the bed to lie on his back. Elain straddled him, running her hands over every inch of his ripple abs, watching with pleasure as his chest heaved. Lucien’s eyes were dark with want, his sensuous lips red and slightly parted. His red hair was splayed out around his horns, and truly Elain didn’t think she had ever seen anyone so beautiful.

She moved down his body until his twitching cock was inches from her mouth, and then she looked up at him through her eyelashes with her eyes widened in innocence.

“Say please, Your Highness,” she murmured.

Lucien laughed darkly, rising up on his elbows to watch. “Kings don’t beg,” he said with a smirk.

It was Elain’s turn to laugh. “Oh no?” She pressed a sweet kiss to his hip, and then the other, studiously avoiding the throbbing member directly in front of her face.

Lucien slid a hand to the back of her neck and she swatted him away. “Maybe you don’t want me to taste you?” she asked sweetly.

Lucien groaned. “I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.”

Elain noted with satisfaction how on edge he was starting to sound. “All you have to do is say please. Please, Princess,” she amended.

She licked up the deep V muscle carved on his hip and Lucien made a sound that was more a whine than a moan.

“What do you say?” she prompted, blowing gently on his twitching cock.

“Fine, you win,” he moaned. “Please, Princess.”

Elain chuckled with victory and then pressed the flat of her tongue to the underside of his cock, licking up the throbbing vein there. Lucien’s answering groan was guttural as his fingers came to rest at the back of her neck.

A bead of moisture was already gathering at the tip of his cock and she swiped her tongue over it, tasting the musky and salty taste of him. She sucked the tip of his cock into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the swollen head, and Lucien slumped back on the bed, his fingers tightening in her hair.

“Fuck, Elain,” he choked out.

Elain wouldn’t previously have considered herself as someone who enjoyed sucking cock, but knowing she had this effect on Lucien suddenly changed her mind.

He was so large that when she sucked him deeper she could hardly manage half of him, but judging from the breathless moans coming out of Lucien it hardly seemed to matter. She made up the difference with her hand, stroking him in time with her bobbing mouth.

“You’re going to have to stop that,” he groaned.

Elain chuckled with his cock still in her mouth, earning another animalistic groan from Lucien. She gasped as he hauled her up, his cock springing from her mouth with a pop.

“I said stop that,” he growled.

“You weren’t enjoying that?” Elain asked with a smirk.

“I need to be inside you right now.”

His words and tone sent her blood boiling, and when the tip of his cock dragged through her wet folds she gasped.

“Please,” was all she could say.

Lucien guided her hips down and Elain braced herself against his chest as she sank onto his length, gasping at the spark of pain as she stretched around him. When she was fully seated on him she stilled, letting herself adjust to the feel of him inside her. Lucien’s eyes were closed, his brow furrowed with pleasure.

Elain rolled her hips experimentally and both of them groaned in unison. She set a slow pace, grinding her hips languidly, reveling in the deep groans coming out of Lucien.

Having Lucien inside her was pure ecstasy, like he had been made for her. His hands were everywhere, sliding up her body and teasing her nipples as he murmured his praise.

“Elain,” he whispered, almost reverently. “You feel so damn good.”

She knew then that she would never tire of hearing him moan her name or seeing him this undone. His hands tightened on her hips, hard enough to leave bruises, and Elain moaned as stilled her hips and thrusted up into her.

Every snap of his hips sent a ripple of pleasure through her. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back, focusing on the feel of him inside her and the delicious sounds he was making.

“Look at you,” he murmured. “You’re perfect.”

He increased his pace, slamming up into her roughly, the wet slap of their skin mixing with their moans. Pleasure was coiling up her spine again, hot and fast. It was so overwhelming that she slumped forward and fisted her hands in the sheets to brace herself.

“Lucien,” she gasped. “Lucien, don’t stop.”

“Are you about to come again for me, Elain?”

Elain moaned weakly in response as stars danced at the edge of her vision. Lucien snaked a hand between them to tease her clit, and she cried out as her orgasm ripped through her.

“That’s it,” Lucien groaned. “That’s my girl.”

With one final hard thrust he was spilling himself inside her, her name falling from his lips in a desperate moan. She stayed slumped on top of him, listening to the erratic beat of his heart slowing in time with her own.

Lucien lifted her off him with excruciating gentleness and tucked her into his chest, nuzzling her hair.

“Maybe we should get attacked by giants more often,” he whispered.

Elain laughed, burrowing her face further into his neck.

“Yes,” she agreed. “Maybe we should.”

-

“Lucien! Lucien, come look!”

Lucien woke with a start and jumped out of bed, his mind already reeling with possible dangers. He took the stairs two at a time up to the top deck and stumbled to a halt. Elain was bundled up under what looked like three cloaks, spinning in a circle and laughing with joy.

“It’s snowing!” she exclaimed.

It seemed like they had crossed into the northern territories while he dozed, and suddenly the world around them was an uninterrupted expanse of white. Lucien breathed a sigh of relief, laughing at Elain’s giddy excitement.

“And you managed not to crash the ship while I was asleep. Miracles do exist!”

Elain scowled with her hands on her hips, looking about as menacing as a kitten. “You watch yourself, Your Highness!”

Lucien chuckled even as his blood heated a few degrees. “Come back to bed,” he pleaded, walking towards her to wrap his arms around her. “I’ll keep you warm.”

With a burst of his power a bubble of warmth wrapped around them, and Elain leaned into him. Lucien marveled at the feel of her in his arms, still unable to wrap his mind around the fact that this was real, that she was his, after all this time. She stood up on her tiptoes and Lucien closed his eyes, leaning down to meet her kiss- and instead was met with a facefull of snow.

“That’s what you get for sass,” Elain said simply as he yelped and sputtered. “Now land this ship so we can go explore.”

“I believe it’s time for your landing lesson, no?” he teased.

Elain’s satisfied smile slipped, and Lucien laughed.

“Don’t worry, even if you crash the snow should absorb the shock.”

After several (bumpy) attempts they landed near a village tucked beside a range of snow-capped mountains. Elain amused herself by cutting holes into a wooly hat before plopping it onto his head, despite his protests that he looked ridiculous.

“You know I have flame power, right?” he grumbled. His thick woolen shirt and cloak were itchy against his back and he would much rather have used other methods of staying warm that didn’t involve clothing. “I don’t need a hat.”

“Yes yes, you’re a big scary monster,” she quipped, looking thoroughly unconcerned by his protests. “Now let’s go!”

Lucien had flown this far north before but had never walked through any of the towns on foot, and as they walked through the snowy village of Velaris he had to admit that Elain had been right to dream of this place.

They walked through streets filled with brightly lit shops- bookstores, bakeries, jewelry stores, all of which seemed to pique Elain’s curiosity more than the last. The streets were lit with strings of fairy lights and lamp posts draped with greenery, and the overall effect was merry but calm. Children ran through the streets in a residential part of town, zigzagging around them and giggling at Lucien’s horns poking out of his hat.

Elain’s fingers tightened around his as she smiled at their antics, and Lucien couldn’t help the image that floated through his mind- little heads with red hair and big brown eyes, unburdened by unwanted crowns and titles.

Someday, maybe. After he had shown her the world, they could pick their favorite spot and grow roots.

The sun was starting to go down when they wandered onto a square in the center of town. It was dominated by a large frozen pond, bordered by about two dozen snowmen wearing even more accessories than Lucien was. The pond was crowded with people ice skating, and when Elain gasped at the sight of them he immediately resigned himself to the fact that he was about to make a fool of himself.

“I’m not getting out of this, am I?” he teased.

Elain smiled broadly. “Good, you’re learning!” With that she yanked his arm towards a shop renting equipment.

Lucien pulled her back towards him and cradled her face in his hands, letting his flame heat her cold cheeks.

Elain giggled, her beautiful eyes twinkling at him playfully. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he whispered, pressing their noses together. “Just keeping you warm.”

Elain giggled again, standing up on her tiptoes to press a sweet kiss to his lips. “You’re very silly for such a scary monster.”

“Ahh, so I am scary. And this whole time you’ve been hurting my ego by pretending I wasn’t!”

“Your ego doesn’t need stroking,” she shot back with a puff of laughter.

“What about other things?” His dropped his voice an octave and watched as heat bloomed on her cheeks.

“Are you trying to distract me from ice skating?” she scolded.

“That depends. Is it working?”

She was opening her mouth to reply when a very familiar voice cut her off.

“Elain?”

-

Once upon a time that voice would have meant Elain’s salvation, but today it sent a cold drip of dread down her back. She whirled, scanning the busy town square for that familiar face, hoping maybe she had imagined it.

But there he was, standing across the square from them, staring between her and Lucien in equal parts relief and fear. Graysen, her oldest friend and fierce protector. His blue overalls were filthy, as if he’d fought his way here all the way from Isle Delfino. Which, knowing him, he likely had.

A low snarl came out of Lucien at the sight of him, more animal than man, and Elain instinctively reached for his hand.

“The others are here too,” he murmured. “We’re surrounded.”

A quick scan of the town square revealed that he was right- Elain immediately spotted Graysen’s brother walking out from his hiding spot behind a large snowman, his own overalls just as torn and filthy as his brother’s. She could also see her cousins, Nesta and Feyre, dressed in battle attire and wielding weapons. Elain couldn’t resent any of them for having found her, when for all they knew she was in worse danger than before. Lucien had never taken her away from Castle Koopa before- surely her friends would have been going mad with worry.

But another part of her, the part that had drunk coconuts with Lucien and walked through a sandstorm and seen giants- that part of her did resent them, if only a little bit. For leaving her alone in that damn castle to sit on the throne day after day, while they went off and had adventures all over the world. For never asking (or even considering) that she might like to join, too.

“Elain?” Graysen called again, stepping closer to them. “Are you alright? Who is that?” His eyes flicked to Lucien’s horns poking out of his wool hat, and his eyes narrowed.

This was going to get ugly very quickly. They had done this dance so many times before that Elain had almost lost count. Lucien would take her, Grayen would come and fight him with help from his brother and her cousins, and eventually he would surrender. But what they all knew but had never acknowledged was that it had never been a fair fight, because Lucien had always surrendered, not lost.

There would be no surrendering today.

“I’m ok, Graysen. I’m unharmed,” Elain replied, locking eyes with her friend and trying to sound as reassuring as she could. The wobble in her voice betrayed her fear, and she could tell from the look in Graysen’s eyes that he caught it, and would undoubtedly misunderstand it.

“Let her go,” Nesta demanded, prowling towards them on silent feet, her trusted blade held at the ready.

Lucien’s arm tightened around her protectively, and Elain stepped back until her back was pressed to his chest.

“Nesta. Please listen to me. I’m not in danger.”

“Who are you?” Graysen demanded, ignoring her. He was still looking at Lucien suspiciously, and Elain could practically see the wheels turning in his head. “Where is King Koopa?”

Her friends were closing around them in a circle, trapping them in the middle. People had started noticing the altercation, some standing still to watch them curiously, others flat out running away in distress.

“You’re looking at him,” Lucien declared.

Elain gasped as she looked up at him in horror. “Lucien!” He’d kept that secret so quiet for so long, protecting his identity to the point of forsaking who he really was. If she hadn’t known before that there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her, then she certainly knew it now.

“It’s fine,” he reassured her, swallowing thickly. “It’s time the world knew. I’m tired of pretending.”

“Get away from her,” Feyre growled.

“What is the meaning of this?” Graysen asked in disbelief. “Elain, get away from him.”

“No!” Elain exclaimed. “Stop. Let me explain, there’s no need for…” It happened so fast that she didn’t even see it coming. One moment she was standing in the protective circle of Lucien’s arms, and the next she was being yanked away from him by a set of powerful arms.

“Let me go!” Elain thrashed to free herself but she was powerless against the strong arms holding her tight.

“It’s ok, Elain,” Azriel murmured reassuringly. “We’ve got you, you’re safe.”

“No, you don’t understand…”

Lucien was standing still as Graysen, Feyre and Nesta advanced around him in a circle, all of them brandishing their weapons and smiling in victory.

“How do we know you’re telling the truth?” Graysen taunted.

Lucien laughed, a low, dangerous laugh that sounded thoroughly inhuman. Her friends froze and glanced at each other uncertainly. There was a flash of light, and then Lucien had shifted into the reptilian form of King Koopa, his teeth bared in a snarl, spiked tail sending up sprays of snow as it swiped angrily against the ground.

“Nobody has to get hurt today,” he warned, as Graysen and her cousins tightened rank and Azriel held her tighter still.

“Graysen, listen to me!” Elain pleaded. “He’s not what you think he is, I’m not his prisoner!” But nobody was listening to her.

“That’s right,” Nesta said. “Let her go and nobody will get harmed.”

“It’s you who has to let her go,” Lucien growled. “You will not win this fight.”

Graysen and her cousins moved as one, lunging for Lucien in synch. Elain screamed, struggling against Azriel’s hold, but he only held her tighter.

“STOP IT!” she yelled, her heart racing with panic.

But it was over before it even began. Lucien swiped at Graysen almost lazily, sending him tumbling into a nearby snowbank. In the same breath he sent up a wall of flames at Nesta and Feyre, who shrieked and retreated at a run.

“STOP IT!” Elain yelled again. “AND LET ME GO!”

Azriel’s arms loosened around her as he looked at her in surprise- at her tone or her words, she didn't know or care. As soon as she was free of his hold she ran towards Lucien and stood in front of him defiantly.

“Listen to me!” she exclaimed, her eyes flicking back and forth between her friends. “You NEVER LISTEN!”

All four of them froze, Graysen covered in snow, Nesta and Feyre smelling slightly of singed hair.

“I’m not going back to Mushroom Castle with you,” Elain continued.

She unclasped one of the cloaks wrapped around her shoulders and handed it to Lucien, who chuckled, smoke coming out of his nostrils. With another flash of light King Koopa had gone, and Lucien wrapped himself in the cloak. Elain realized with some hilarity that the wooly hat had somehow survived as he shifted.

“What do you mean, you’re not going back to Mushroom Castle?” Nesta asked in disbelief. “We’re not letting him take you…”

“He’s not taking me,” Elain said simply. “I’m going with him.”

“But…but Elain, you can’t…” “You can’t go with that monster…”

“HE’S NOT A MONSTER!” she yelled, her fists clenched at her sides.

“It’s ok, Elain,” Lucien said softly. “They can think what they want.” “No!” she exclaimed, turning to look at him. He was smiling sadly, his gaze resigned and haunted, and it only fueled her anger. “They don’t know the real you.” “But you do,” he replied. “And that’s all that matters to me.”

They didn’t know the real her, either. But he did.

“Are you really not coming back?” a soft voice asked behind her.

Elain turned, suddenly exhausted. She turned to face her friends, their eyes so uncomprehending that she almost felt bad for them.

“I never wanted that throne,” she started, taking a deep bracing breath of the frigid air. “I don’t want to sit in that castle any longer. Someone else can have it.”

“Ok,” Nesta said, clearly trying to sound reasonable. “We can talk about that. If you want to travel with us sometimes, that’s fine…”

Elain shook her head as Lucien laughed drily. “No, Nesta. I’m leaving, and I don’t want any of you to come after us. Someone else can take the throne. You should be Princess, Feyre. You’ve always been clever at dealing with people.”

Feyre’s mouth dropped open in surprise, as if she didn’t quite agree with that.

“But, Elain, surely you don’t mean to go with him…” Azriel questioned, looking at Lucien with disdain.

“His name is Lucien,” Elain declared. “And I love him.”

Lucien’s arm snaked around her again as silence fell over the square. It was deserted by now, though Elain could see people peering through shop windows to watch the scene unfold.

“Where will you go?” Graysen asked, finally lowering his sword.

Azriel, Nesta, and Feyre followed suit, though somewhat reluctantly. Elain glanced up at Lucien, and this time his eyes were full of humor. “Everywhere,” he said simply.

“Will we ever see you again?” Feyre asked in a small voice.

Something squeezed at Elain’s heart like a vice, and she walked to Feyre and wrapped her a tight hug. “Of course you will,” she said, her throat tight with unshed tears. “You’re not rid of me that easily.”

She hugged each of her friends in turn, committing the feel and scent of each of them to her memory. Elain knew she wouldn’t be seeing them anytime soon. The dust would need to settle first, prejudices would need to be pushed aside. A part of her felt bad that the mess they needed to clean up was of her own making, but mostly she just felt free.

She walked back towards the man she loved and watched her friends walk away, each of them looking over their shoulder at her as if to make sure she wasn’t changing her mind.

When they had left she turned to look into those fiery russet eyes. Lucien’s expression was so full of open adoration that her breath caught in her throat. He opened his arms and Elain fell into him, letting his warmth seep into her very soul.

“So,” he murmured into her ear. “Where to first?”

Elain laughed wickedly. “First we get you some clothes.” Lucien’s hands wandered down her back and she swatted him away. “And then ice skating, of course!”

Lucien sighed in resignation. “I’m really not getting out of that, am I?”

Elain shook her head firmly. “Absolutely not.”

“Well in that case, your wish is my command.”

Elain beamed and scanned the town square for a clothing shop, but Lucien pulled her back towards him once more.

“You know,” he murmured, a little grin on his lips. “One of these days I will make you my bride.”

Elain’s stomach flipped at his words. It wasn’t a threat- it had never been. It was simply a promise.

“And if I refuse?” she shot back, widening her eyes as she looked up at him through her eyelashes.

The flame in his eyes intensified to an inferno she could feel inside her soul. His grin widened, so warm and bright it could have melted the snow around them.

Elain woke on the morning of her eighteenth birthday with a taste for blood.

She stretched her arms overhead, flexing her webbed fingers. This was it. This was the day she’d been preparing for her whole life. All those countless hours of training and lessons- it had all been for this.

Today she would take her first heart. And after she presented it to her mother, the Ocean Queen, she would become a full-fledged member of the court. She could go where she liked, without asking for permission or with guards trailing her, or any of that silly nonsense.

Elain could finally travel to every corner of the seas she had only ever heard of or read about in books. And beyond that, to every dark corner that waited to be discovered. She could even go on land if she liked, with nobody to judge or sneer at the sight of her legs.

The sirens’ human form was considered an abomination. Exposing your legs was shameful- dirty, like the humans who bore them. They were meant as a tool for survival only, and were only to be used in dire situations.

But Elain had always had a fascination with them, despite herself. To her they represented freedom- true freedom. With them she could go anywhere she liked. And the only thing standing between her and that freedom was a single human heart.

The rules were simple. On the day of their eighteenth birthday every siren went through the Great Rite. They set out into the depths on their own, and were only allowed to return if they bore a human heart in their hands. The heart had to come from a male, and ideally one of status and rank. Upon presenting the heart to the Queen, they were free to wander the seas as they liked.

It wasn’t that Elain particularly liked the idea of killing a man, especially one with a valiant heart. On the contrary, if she was honest with herself the idea of it made her slightly queasy. But had no other choice.

Failing to complete the Great Rite had dire consequences. Sirens who came back without a heart became known as Lessers. They had no rights of their own, and were little more than property of the crown. Most became servants of some sort- maids, tutors. The more beautiful ones, however, were used as breeding stock. If Elain failed the task today she had no doubt which fate awaited her, and the idea of it was so terrifying that it overshadowed her dislike of violence. She’d bring back ten hearts before accepting that fate.

She flexed her fingers again, this time releasing the sharp claws from her fingertips. They were as clear as glass and as sharp as diamonds. Sharp enough to tear into a man’s chest and rip out his heart.

Elain lifted her forefinger to her mouth, dragging the tip of her claw lightly along her tongue. It was so sharp that the coppery taste of blood immediately filled her mouth. That was the taste of freedom. One measly human life in exchange for a lifetime of living on her own terms.

She sat up on her sand bed, perching on the edge of the coral frame. With a quick glance at her closed bedroom door she swished her tail. Her scales were pearly white, dotted here and there with red and gold that twinkled like gems when she swam. It was unusual coloring for her bloodline- a fact that her mother never failed to remind her of. Her sister Nesta had a purely silver tail, while Feyre’s was midnight blue. Both of them pure in color, as was the norm for the royal bloodline.

Elain didn’t mind. She liked it, even. Something about the colors reminded her of the blinding, prismatic sunshine that filtered in through the water when she swam near the surface. It reminded her of land, and the feel of that sunshine on her face and shoulders. That was the best part of being on land- the warmth of the sun, and the coolness of a breeze ruffling her hair. The salty spray of the ocean filling her nostrils.

Everything on the surface was more. Louder, more colorful, more scented. Different. More. Elain wanted more.

Under the sea everything was the same. Everything was tinged slightly green, and it was always cold. Her sisters relished the cold, and the dark, but more than anything Elain craved warmth and light. She would never admit it out loud- it would be considered akin to treason to do so. But once she passed her initiation she planned to travel south, where the waters ran warm. She had a sudden vision of herself lying on a warm beach, letting the heat of the sand warm her cool scales.

Elain glanced at the door again, listening for any sounds from the hall. When all she heard was silence she swished her tail again. There was a flash of white light tinged with gold, and a familiar burning sensation. When the light dimmed two legs stretched out in front of her, where her tail had been a minute ago.

Her legs were alabaster white, like the rest of her. But unlike her arms and torso, the skin was interspersed with patches of scales, marking her as not quite human. Elain wiggled her toes and kicked her feet, reveling in the feel of the cool water against her skin. It felt sinful, somehow. Decadent in a way that would have earned her a punishment if she ever said it out loud.

She ran her hands down her thighs, shivering at the sensation. Her scales were smooth and cool, but the skin was warm. Warmer than they should have been given that the blood in her veins was dark as night and just as cold. Her fingers drifted back up, and then higher still, to the place where her legs met.

This was the part that intrigued Elain the most about her legs. The soft, petal pink folds of flesh, the sensitive nub in the center, all out in the open. Even the thatch of golden curly hairs was fascinating to her. She’d figured out long ago that if she touched herself there she would feel pleasure. Delicious, sinful pleasure.

Pleasure was a foreign concept in her world. Sirens bred out of necessity, and doing so was a service to the crown. Human concepts of love and family had no place for the cold depths of the ocean.

A peal of laughter from the hall caught her attention, and with another burst of light her legs formed back into her fin. She was schooling her features into a look of nonchalance when the circular door to her bedroom opened and her sisters burst in, bringing with them a current of cold water. Elain tried not to shiver visibly.

“There she is!”

“Happy birthday!”

Elain smiled and returned her sisters’ embraces, her heart still racing from almost getting caught with her legs on display. On this day, of all days. There would have been hell to pay.

“I wish it was my turn already,” Feyre sighed.

“Just two more years, that’s no time at all!” Elain said encouragingly, squeezing her sister’s hand. “And then just think, you can come travel with me! We’d have fun together, wouldn’t we?”

Nesta’s shoulders sagged a little, and Elain immediately felt a pang of guilt. As heir to the throne Nesta didn’t have the same freedom as she and Feyre did. Her sister’s place was at court, learning the intricate business of ruling the seas. Anytime she wanted to venture away from their mother’s underwater palace she had to do so accompanied by her royal guard.

Elain and Feyre, as the younger siblings, were given a longer leash to do as they pleased, as long as their behavior was considered appropriate for the royal bloodline.

Or as long as they didn’t get caught doing anything they shouldn’t have been doing.

“Sorry Nes…” Elain said apologetically.

Nesta brushed away her apology. “You’ll have to complete the Rite before you think of going anywhere.” She gave a flick of her fin. It glittered in the murky water, like polished steel. “I remember my first so well. His name was Tomas. Oh how he screamed so pathetically!” She smiled at the memory, her eyes glittering with glee.

Her sister had taken many hearts since her own rite, but according to her, of all the hearts buried underneath her bed, the first would always remain her most precious.

Elain felt a thrill of excitement. It was her turn now. She wondered about the man whose heart she would take. What would he look like? Would he scream as loudly as Tomas had?

“Are you ready?” Feyre asked.

Elain grinned. She was.

---

Her mother’s throne room was full of all manners of sea creatures, all eager to catch a glimpse of the princess on her way to perform the Rite. Sirens and guards filled the front rows, with the Lessers relegated to the back.

The queen herself was seated on her throne, assessing the scene with her usual cool indifference. Her royal guards were floating next to her, holding their sharp tridents in muscled arms. They had the lower body of seahorses, the torso of men, and the sneer of predators. Instead of a single tail fin, the Ocean Queen’s torso led to dozens of tentacles that spread around her like shadows. It was a result of the magic she weld- she was as bound to the ocean as it was to her. The Queen did not have human legs, and even if she did she would never have lowered herself to the point of stepping on land.

Elain swam towards her mother and bent at the waist in a bow, lowering her eyes to the crushed-seashell floor. When she lifted her head her mother’s gaze racked over her from head to fin with barely suppressed disdain. A familiar feeling of shame and inadequacy made her stomach squirm. Still, she forced herself to lift her chin and meet that assessing gaze.

Elain had fussed over her appearance for this day, and looking at herself in her bedroom she had thought she looked particularly lovely. Her hair had been brushed until it floated around her like a cloud of silk, and her favorite pearl earrings sparkled from her ears. She had tied on her favorite shell bra over her chest- from far they appeared pure white, but from up close there were tiny veins of red and gold running through the surface, like the scales on her tail. But under her mother’s gaze she suddenly felt like she was covered in mud.

“Daughter,” the Queen drawled, “the time has come for you to perform the Great Rite and prove your worth to this court.”

An excited murmur rippled through the crowd, tinged with the faint sound of muffled laughter. Instead of admonishing them her mother only grinned in wicked delight.

It was no great secret that the Queen did not deem her second daughter worthy of her royal title, nor did she think her capable of performing the Rite. Elain had always been too gentle, too kind, too hesitant when faced with the cruelty and violence that ruled this court. But she was beautiful, and that, whatever her other shortcomings, had value.

Elain gritted her teeth as the Queen blessed her with the Mother’s prayer. No doubt she considered this a waste of her breath.

She would show them. She would show them that she was more than just a beautiful face and breeding potential. The Queen and her court might think her inadequate but she was as capable as the rest of them.

Elain let her outrage simmer inside her until it felt like fire ran through her veins. She could already hear the screams of her victim ringing in her ears.

She’d make him scream, and then she’d make them all regret ever doubting her.

---

Lucien woke with a jolt.

At first he couldn’t figure out what had woken him. They couldn’t have arrived in Adriata yet- they were at least half a day’s journey away, even with favorable winds.

His cabin was dark, as was the night sky visible outside the porthole near his head. The sea was calm, the soft rocking of the waves gentle enough that he was tempted to simply roll over and fall asleep again. He removed the wax earplugs from his ears (he was a notoriously light sleeper and a pirate’s crew was not known for being quiet) but all was silent. No screaming, no fighting, nobody yelling for the captain to wake up.

His eyelids had barely started drooping when he felt it again. Something was wrong. He felt it viscerally- like a tug on a rib, jerking him to attention.

It was too quiet. Silence like this on his ship was unnatural, hence the need for earplugs. On any given night he should have been able to hear muffled laughter and mild revelry at the very least.

Lucien rubbed the sleep from his good eye and peered out the porthole again. All he saw was a blurry mist, with a weak light of dawn trying to pierce through the dark. He rubbed his mechanical eye this time, but everything outside remained veiled in mist.

This was wrong. Adriata was in the south, and was known for its calm waters and mild weather. A land of permanent summer. A sailor’s true paradise.

The mist outside was so dense that it seemed to seep straight through the hull of the ship and into his very bones. A chill went through him. Wherever they were, it was nowhere near Adriata.

Lucien pinched his nose and grumbled irritably. This was what he got for hiring a rag-tag band of exiles and misfits for a crew.

No matter. Whichever idiot was responsible for this would walk the plank as an example, and whoever didn’t fall in line would get traded in once they reached their destination.

Something in his peripheral vision made him sit up straight, his stomach lurching violently. A jagged, rocky cliff, jutting out of the ocean mere inches from his window. And beyond that- dozens more, stretching around them like some kind of underwater tombstones. For a moment shock and terror rendered Lucien completely immobile. They weren’t just hours off-course, as he had initially thought.

They were sailing directly through Death Valley.

Few ships that ever sailed in this area ever came out of it alive to tell the tale. According to the stories the waters leading up to the barren island were gentle enough to lull even the most experienced of sailors into a sense of security. But soon the thick mist would settle over your ship like a cloak, so dense that at first the obstacle course of crags wouldn’t be visible until it was too late. If somehow a ship managed to not crash on its way towards the coast, the island’s shore was so uneven and inhospitable that there would be nowhere for that ship to dock.

Lucien had never been anywhere near it, nor did he know anyone who had. Its exact location was a subject of such debate by those who claimed to have seen it that it had become mostly a thing of legend. Wild stories spread like wildfire regarding the island itself and the people (or creatures, in some cases) that lived there.

The most popular of these was that the treacherous island was a hunting ground for sirens. It was said that the unfortunate souls who ventured this way had been lured in by their songs, and that those who didn’t drown or otherwise perish in shipwreck were faced with a much crueler fate. It was madness, of course. The stuff of children’s books. But then again, before today Lucien would have thought that the whole island was simply a legend.

How had they gotten here? And more importantly, how were they going to get out of here alive?

He bolted out of bed, grabbing his sword on his way out of the cabin. It was a thing of beauty, with a hilt encrusted in rubies so large that just one could have fed his entire crew for a month. He had stolen it from his father’s armory when he’d escaped from the tyranny of his court. It served both as a reminder of the freedom he’d won, and what he stood to lose if that freedom was taken from him. Lucien had always assumed he would die at sea, but he hadn’t survived this long, and at such costs, only to die because some rookie sailor had veered them off course.

He could already picture himself in a tavern, telling his tale to an enraptured audience once they reached Adriata. He’d have his pick of men to form a new crew, and women would fall on his lap. Maybe word of it would even reach his hateful family. How he’d love to be present to watch the sneer disappear off his father’s face when word of his errant son’s heroics reached him.

The sleeping quarters were eerily quiet as Lucien hurried up to the top deck. Too quiet.

The ship gave a sudden almighty lurch, followed by the ear-splitting sound of wood against stone. Lucien was thrown to the floor, all thoughts of heroism now replaced by gut-wrenching fear. The Loyal Storm had survived its share of battles and storms, but would it survive this?

Still nobody shouted. Wrong. This was all wrong. Where was everybody? Why was nobody panicking? Lucien grabbed the wall for support as he crawled up into the dense mist outside. It was so thick he could barely see a few feet in front of him.

“Jurian! JURIAN!”

There was no sign of his first mate anywhere. Usually he’d be the first one on the scene, wrangling the crew back into shape. If there was one person in this crew he could trust it was him. This ship was as much his as it was Lucien’s.

So where the fuck was he?

The ship lurched again, so violently that Lucien fell flat to his face and started sliding towards the tilting hull. He barely managed to grab onto an armful of rope before sliding to his death, and he held on desperately until the deck righted itself again with another lurch.

The light of dawn was fighting its way through the mist, and shapes were starting to appear around Lucien. He had to rub his eyes again to make sure he was seeing correctly.

His men were jumping overboard. Some were half hanging over the side, as if reaching for something, while others were flat-out climbing overboard and jumping into the water. Lucien ran for the nearest sailor and yanked him back onto the deck by his shoes.

“What do you think you’re-”

The look on the boy’s face made Lucien stumble away in shock. His eyes were glazed, unseeing. As if he’d been bewitched. The boy didn’t even acknowledge him before jumping back to his feet and stumbling towards the edge again, hands outstretched.

“Mate! Sink me, what is going on?”

A sick feeling of dread was starting to fight with his good sense. The stories couldn’t possibly be true. There were no such things as sirens. These scallywags must have gotten mind-numbingly drunk and were now hallucinating.

The mist parted for a moment, giving him an uninterrupted view of the head of the ship. What he saw made his blood run cold.

Jurian was climbing onto the ship’s figure head, a giant eagle with its wings outstretched. His first mate was hanging on for dear life, but one more wave and he’d been falling to his death.

“JURIAN!”

Something was terribly wrong. Had they all been poisoned? Jurian might be hot-headed but he was never reckless. He’d sworn an oath to protect the Loyal Storm and its captain. He would never purposely have put Lucien in danger.

Feeling supremely idiotic, Lucien reached into his pocket for his earplugs. It couldn’t be- there must be another explanation. Still, he stuck the cloth-wrapped wax into his ears before breaking into a run towards his first mate.

“JURIAN! GET DOWN!”

His friend did not even remotely react as Lucien’s hand wrapped around his ankle and yanked. A dark shape loomed ahead, and Lucien realized they were headed straight towards a towering crag. Without thinking he launched himself forward, grabbed a hold of his first mate and fell off the side of the ship and into the water.

---

He was alive. That was the first thought that jammed itself into his mind as he came to. The next thought he had was that he was about to be violently sick.

Without opening his eyes Lucien rolled onto his hands and knees and retched. A torrent of sea water and bile exploded out of him until he was weak and breathless. He slumped onto his back, wincing at the pain burning every cell in his body. For a moment all he could do was lie there, his limbs heavy and leaden. And then the memory of what had happened came rushing back.

The mist, the crags, his sailors jumping ship. Jurian. Jurian.

Lucien’s eyes snapped open. With some difficulty he sat up and glanced around him. He was lying on a rocky beach in a cave. The water in the center of the cave was full of the same rocky crags that surrounded the misty island, and the ceiling dripped with sharp stalactites. Bits of wood floated all around him- the only remnants of his beloved ship.

A wave of grief rocked through him like a punch to the gut. There were other ships, of course, but the Loyal Storm had been his first.

Get a hold of yourself. There would be time to grieve later. For now he had more pressing problems. Like the fact that he was lying in a cave in the middle of the ocean.

That was when he noticed the bodies. His crew, that band of exiles and misfits and thieves and criminals, lying dead on the shore amongst the wreckage.

Lucien scrambled to his feet, lunging from one body to the next, looking for the one that was the most familiar and dear to him. He couldn’t breathe from the fear wrapping its iron first around his throat.

But it was useless. There was no sign of Jurian anywhere in the cave, alive or dead. Lucien fell to his knees.There would be other ships, but there would never be a first mate like Jurian. His only consolation was that his friend had died at sea, as a true pirate should.

Tears were falling down his face, but Lucien didn’t bother wiping them away. There was nobody to see him weep. He was alone, marooned in a cave in the middle of the ocean, without a ship.

Get a grip, you muttonhead. Get up.

One foot in front of the other. That was how he had survived before, and it was how he would keep surviving.

He was struggling to his feet again when a sound caught his attention. A wet, slick sound that had nothing to do with the waves crashing around the mouth of the cave. Had someone else survived the wreck? Lucien stumbled through the mist like a blind man, looking for the source of the sound.

Another noise cut through the silence. A gasp of surprise and delight.

“Hello?” His voice echoed around the rock, calling back to him in a loop.

Another gasp, quick and sharp. Lucien followed the sound, careful to not trip on the bodies littering the beach. There was movement in the water.

“Hello?” he called again. “Is someone there? Are you alright?”

Silence answered him. But someone was definitely in the water, he couldn’t have imagined it. Hope bloomed in his chest. Someone else had survived- perhaps it was Jurian. Maybe his friend hadn’t died after all. He fell to his knees at the edge of the water and held out his hand.

“Jurian, is that you? Here, let me help you. Blimey, how did you-”

His voice died in his throat as a figure appeared in front of him out of the mist. His arm was still extended, limp and useless.

It was a woman. A cascade of golden-brown curls floated around her like seaweed, framing a face as lovely as sunlight itself.

But what caught his attention was the body, half floating in the water next to her. The man’s chest had been ripped open, the blood spray on his face so thick he was unrecognizable. More horrifying, however, was the fact that where there should have been his heart there was only an empty cavity.

The location of said heart became clear when Lucien looked at the woman again. She held her hands above the water, cradling the sailor’s heart like a treasure. Blood dripped down her arms, but Lucien could still make out the shape of her fingers. Or, more specifically, the fact that they ended in sharp claws. Sharp enough to have cut open the man’s chest.

For a split second he stared in mute horror, and she stared back, eyes wide with surprise. And then she grinned, her expression switching to what could only be described as pure delight.

Before Lucien could react or say anything her lips started moving. He could see her mouth move, but no words were coming out.

She dropped the heart she was holding with a plop, and turned her attention towards him. Lucien couldn’t breathe properly as she faced him fully. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

Her rosy lips curved into a grin, and Lucien felt his own lips mirroring the motion. He wanted to speak but the words were lodging in his throat. There were no words good enough to express what he wanted to say to her.

She was the answer. It was clear now. Why had he been afraid, when she was right there all along? He felt silly with relief.

“There you are.”

Had he spoken, or had she? He couldn’t quite tell. It didn’t matter.

Her lips were still moving, but Lucien couldn’t hear anything over the sound of his own heart. He was wading into the water, but she was floating back, beckoning him deeper. It didn’t matter. He would follow her wherever she went.

The waves reached his waist, and then his shoulders, and then he was swimming, waves crashing into him from every side. And then finally- finally she was there, in front of him. Her arms reached for him, and Lucien fell into her. Her scent wrapped around him, filling his lungs like air. Salty like the ocean around him, but sweet as honey. It was better than oxygen, more than life.

And then her lips stopped moving, and it was like waking from a dream. Reality snapped into place with horrible clarity.

“What-”

Before he could process where he was or what was happening he was yanked below the surface. The last thing he saw before he was pulled underwater was her eyes. Brown as a fawn’s coat, warm and lovely, with a slit-like pupil.

“Did you forget about our appointment?” Mr. Archeron’s beady eyes darted around the room, taking in his cluttered desk, the threadbare rug under his feet, and Lucien’s flustered appearance. He sat down heavily in the creaky chair in front of Lucien’s desk, wrapping his cloak around his body as if to protect himself from the small layer of dust coating the chair. The old man dropped a sleek black case next to him on the ground. “Perhaps you couldn’t see it jotted down in your calendar, if you even use one.”

“Of course no’,” Lucien lied smoothly, sitting down and ignoring the clear jab to his missing eye, even as Mr. Archeron’s comment rankled him. He wanted to smooth the wrinkles out of his white shirt and plaid kilt, but thought the action would make it more obvious that Lucien hadn’t dressed that morning with the thought of meeting with anyone in mind. “As Laird, many issues pop up at a moment’s notice that need swift and immediate attention.”

“And my beloved daughter’s hand in marriage is not one of those concerns?” Straight to the issue at hand, then. Mr. Archeron’s eyes no longer tracked the room like a hawk—they settled on Lucien’s face with an intensity that reminded him of a wolf waiting to pounce on its prey. 

Lucien gave the man across from him a tight lipped smile. “Quite the opposite,” he gritted out. “It is simply quite unfortunate that there have been several… personal issues I’ve been dealing with since assuming the title as Laird.”

Mr. Archeron’s eyes narrowed. “Personal, hm? Wouldn’t have anything to do with your banishment, would it? I heard about that nasty business, the rumors I heard all the way up here... How are you liking your new surname?” One side of his lips curled in distaste, making it clear what the older gentleman thought.

Lucien ground his teeth and tempered his breathing; he was still getting used to the Macpherson name, not to mention his new title and the responsibilities that came with it, but he would never admit that to the man sitting across from him.

“I expect ye want to break the bethroyal?” Lucien deflected, his voice tight. Better to get this over with, rather than be insulted by this pompous Englishman the entire afternoon.

“Oh, that was my initial thought, to be sure,” the man said, reclining in his chair. “How could I possibly give my precious daughter’s hand away in marriage to a newly appointed, banished, potentially nameless, disfigured Laird? I simply couldn’t—the shame it would bring upon the family.”

Mr. Archeron was gloating, taking clear delight in insulting Lucien while he had the chance. Lucien gripped the edge of his desk, his knuckles turning white as he felt the growing rage inside him. This selfish, self-serving Englishman knew nothing of humiliation. How dare he come into Lucien’s home, his office, and talk of shame, of being pulled down so low that it felt like one was falling down into a pit, farther and farther from the sun— 

“But then,” Mr. Archeron continued, like Lucien wasn’t moments away from leaping over the desk and strangling him, “I heard some very interesting stories about you. Apparently you’re a bit of a shrewd businessman yourself—you’ve made connections with different lords and lairds across Scotland over the years, and as soon as you were made laird of this ramshackled estate, all your high and mighty acquaintances entered into formal trade routes with you. Trade routes that greatly benefit you.” The man sneered at him, like he was upset at being outdone. “The ‘Highland Fox,’ they call you. As much as I detest it, you’re a very well connected man with these trade contracts. Trade contracts that I want a part of.”

Lucien was silent, his brows furrowed. He expected—hoped, really—that this meeting would end in the broken bethroyal thrust on him courtesy of his dead relative, not a confirmation of it. He cleared his throat, stunned. “Ye—what?”

“I want you to marry my daughter, and I want full access to your new trade routes in order to establish stores for the various goods and sundries I sell.” Mr. Archeron steepled his fingers underneath his chin, looking smug like he just beat the King himself in a game of chess. 

Lucien was flabbergasted, staring at him open mouthed. “Those are no’ the terms of the original marriage contract.”

“This contract?” Mr. Archeron said, reaching down into his case and extracting an impeccably preserved sheath of hand written papers. “The marriage contract that gives me the sole discretion to alter it? Your great uncle or cousin or whoever he was must have been exceedingly desperate to accept these terms to try to save his clan from financial ruin by agreeing to marry one of my daughters in exchange for her dowry. But he did manage to tie the marriage contract to whoever the Laird was, rather than specifically to him, so maybe cleverness runs in your family.”

Lucien pursed his lips, no longer worrying about keeping himself calm. “While ye have the sole ability to alter the terms of the marriage contract,” he pushed out, “that doesnae mean it is automatically accepted. I can still back out or cancel the contract all together.”

“Yes, and then you’d have to repay that portion of the dowry already sent months and months ago, plus pay a contractually obligated twenty-five percent interest on that amount. For any hardship towards my wonderful daughter. Now,” Mr. Archeron said, looking around the office with false interest, “where do you suppose you’ll get that money from?”

Lucien felt murderous. It was true the estate was hard strapped for money at the moment—the curtains were looking a bit worn, and the roof leaked in a few places—but in a few months, when trade started up, he expected a steady and plentiful cash flow to start repairs and upkeep. 

And so, apparently, did Mr. Archeron. 

“Ye don’t care that yer favorite daughter is to marry someone like me? That she’ll be in a loveless marriage in a foreign land, rarely able to see her family after this?” Lucien couldn’t keep the contempt out of his voice. He cared nothing for his betrothed—the less he had to do with England and its people, the better—but still, Lucien didn’t want this poor woman to be miserable, which she would undoubtedly be if her father forced them to marry. 

Mr. Archeron shrugged. “She’ll be married to a laird, running an estate. It’s all she’s been taught to do. At the very least, I’ll make sure she’s the best dressed lady north of the border.” He tutted. “It is a shame she’ll he wed to a worthless, one-eyed laird—“

“Good thing my cock wasn’t taken from me then,” Lucien said savagely, standing up so quickly his chair tipped over. “While yer peddling yer little trinkets, I’ll have yer daughter’s legs spread around me. Yer grandchildren will be mine, and they’ll be Scottish,” he ended viciously, his chest rising and falling rapidly. 

Any self respecting Englishman wouldn’t have even imagined marrying a family member off to a Scotsman in the first place. If they did, they would have thrown fists at Lucien at the first utterance of what would happen to his daughter in the marital bed, if not shoot him point blank in the chest. 

Mr. Archeron clearly was not made of the same cloth as his countrymen. 

He stared up at Lucien, unimpressed by his outburst. “As is the fate of all women. I have three daughters—I accepted their futures long ago. Besides, the other two I’ll marry off to good Englishmen. One of them will give me an acceptable grandson to inherit the family business.”

Lucien sneered at the worthless man in front of him. “Yer despicable.”

Mr. Archeron cocked an eyebrow. “That’s business. How about this? We don’t have to add permanent stores to the terms of the marriage contract. We’ll just add that as part of the negotiations, you will provide me with beneficial contacts and introductions that will assist me and my business, that l be allowed to tour your trade routes at my leisure, making small business as I go, to ensure my investment is paying off, and appoint agents to sell my goods directly.”

“How is that any different than having full access to my trade routes?”

“I won’t set up any permanent stores or stops but I’ll still be able to compete for business with you… Highlanders.” Mr. Archeron said the last part like he had sucked on a lemon. “It’s not a bad deal. Besides,” he gave Lucien a wry grin, “you’re too proud—I think a bit of groveling will be good for you.” 

After all the injustices and insults he had suffered over the past months, this conversation was easily the worst of them. He snatched Mr. Archeron’s copy of the contract out of his hands and made a show of reading it, all the while his brain worked on a way out of this. 

Option one: he could rip up the contract right here and now and suffer the financial consequences. Lucien wracked his mind for things he could sell for some extra money: he had already sold most of the keep’s paintings and tapestries and silver pieces to pay off all the debt his cousin or second uncle or whoever he was had saddled him with when he had the poor sense to die suddenly and leave this place to him. There wasn’t much more he could do—a skeleton crew worked the castle and grounds, and to raise rents and prices on his tenants would be inhumane, not to mention would probably lead to a revolt that would end with his head on a spike.

Option two: Lucien could agree to the new terms and wed this lecherous man’s poor, probably ugly, and spoiled daughter. He would gain some immediate money, which would be nice, but they would make each other miserable. He’d grow old with a cold bed, a frigid wife and a domineering father in law in Mr. Archeron who would squeeze Lucien for any use he had, all while reminding Lucien what he truly thought of all Scotsmen and his one eyed son-in-law with a permanent sneer on his bloated face.

Mr. Archeron had one thing right: some people did call him The Highland Fox, and it wasn’t for his red hair alone. There must be another solution.

He stood up and turned away from the man in question, looking out the window behind his desk. Despite the abysmal mood in his office, the weather outside displayed an uncharacteristically warm Scottish summer day. The bright sun glinted off the waters of the small loch near the castle, and Lucien could see all manners of birds flying above and around the forest that lay right outside the castle walls.

For all the beauty that surrounded him, Lucien would give it all back if it meant he’d never arrived in this castle to begin with. When the official letter addressed to him arrived at Vassa’s castle six months ago, Lucien thought it was a joke at best, or another plot at worst. He knew of the Macphersons and his own tenuous relationship with the clan, but assumed there were a number of able-bodied men in line for the title. 

Apparently not. If he couldn’t assume the title as Laird, then no one could, and the land would break out into war. Only Lucien, born with noble blood but without any claims to any other title, could be named Laird of Clan Macpherson. 

He reluctantly accepted and arrived at a derelict castle and a ledger with so much red in it,  it reminded him of a giant herd of Scottish red deer. From that day on, he was bound to the clan and land he now claimed.

And here he was, about to be tied down in yet another way.

Were there more options? There had to be. Lucien darted a glance behind him to find Mr. Archeron leaning forward on his cane, staring at him like he could see the gears turning in Lucien’s head and coming to the same conclusion he had: he would have to marry. 

But perhaps he didn’t have to marry now, Lucien realized, his heart racing. If he could further delay the marriage until a time he had the funds to pay back the money and interest owed, then he could break the contract with no further consequence.

“Perhaps ye’d agree to a compromise, Mr. Archeron,” Lucien began, using the most pleasant tone he could muster under the circumstances, righting his desk chair. “I’m sure ye’d agree that yer daughter could do better than to marry someone like me with such a… precarious background. I’m sure she doesnae want this either. If ye give me six months to acquire the funds, I’m sure I can pay back any money owed for the contract and we can all be on our way.”

Mr. Archeron smiled, and Lucien knew he had fallen into a trap. He tutted. “Oh, if only,” he said, shaking his head back and forth. “But you see, all three of my daughters are already on the way here—I rode up a few days ahead of them, to work out the finer details of the marriage contract. They’re expecting to be greeted by the new laird and Elain married soon after. In fact, we’ve already formally announced the marriage, and sent runners ahead to notify Lairds across Scotland of the wedding. How it would break their hearts to be so rudely turned away. Not to mention, the shock it would cause to my poor, poor Elain. This would ruin her; she’d never be able to marry, never have a family of her own. You wouldn’t do that, would you?”

“What do I care about some ruined Englishwoman?” Lucien snapped. “One less Englishwoman around to make more of you miserable bastards, the better.”

“You may be a brutal Scotsman,” Mr. Archeron snarled, “but you’re still a Laird and a gentleman, and bound to honor the codes of your birth.”

Lucien laughed dryly. As a born and bred Scotsman, Lucien was obligated to hate the English. The emotions coursing throughout his body now at the man in front of him made those general feelings tame in comparison. 

Evil. This man was pure evil. In the back of his mind, Lucien wondered how Mr. Archeron would stand being in the small chapel tucked away in the castle where the wedding would occur, as he didn’t think the man would be able to step foot in a consecrated church without bursting into flames. 

How cold-hearted of the man in front of him to use his daughter as a bargaining chip for his own gain. To turn the woman away at what was practically her wedding ceremony—especially to an outsider like Lucien—would cause a scandal and she would be ruined from society. Lucien shouldn’t care about that - shouldn’t care about this woman he still had yet to meet—but he knew from experience what fate befell women who had lost society’s grace and couldn’t have that guilt on his conscience. 

He was trapped and he knew it. 

Elain. A pretty name for the woman who would undoubtedly be his ruin. 

“Yer a right bastard,” Lucien gritted out, shaking his head in disgust at Mr. Archeron’s lecherous grin. “Make your damn changes to the contract and I’ll review them.”

Triumph blazed in his eyes. “And the Fox is cornered,” Mr. Archeron whispered to himself. “Very good, Laird. Very good. I’ll just take that back and make the necessary changes…”

Lucien numbly let the man dictate his entire future away. He could do nothing but quietly stare as his life withered before his own eyes, everything suddenly looking a bit grayer. He didn’t even notice he was initialing the new terms of the contract until he dipped his quill in ink to sign his name at the end of the paper. 

Just like in his old life, he was shackled by forces and people outside of his control. Instead of an iron collar around his throat, this time it was to be an iron ring around his finger. 

X

The carriage wheel dipped into another hole in the dirt road and Elain grimaced.

“God, my ass is already sore—I can’t take much more of this.”

“Feyre!” Nesta snapped. “Don’t use that language!”

“Who cares? We’re the only ones here and no one can hear us.”

Elain let the familiar bickering between her two sisters wash over her as she let her mind soften and relax. It would be odd to not hear their daily fights anymore. 

She smothered a sigh. This is what she had been born and bred by her mother to do: ignore any confrontation and noise, mind her manners, never speak unless spoken to, and be a gracious host and wife, all for her future husband. 

What a shame that a wild, uncultured Scotsman would benefit from her gentle upbringing. 

“Elain?”

She turned to see Nesta staring worriedly at her. 

“How are you doing?” she asked gently. 

There it was, that pitying tone of voice Nesta used whenever she spoke to Elain anymore. Out of the three Archeron sisters Elain was undoubtedly the most fragile and delicate but she was no longer the sensitive child she’d once been. She was a grown woman, truthfully past marrying age, and yet Nesta still clucked after her like a mother hen.

It was exhausting.

“I’m fine,” Elain said pleasantly. “Just… imagining all the tasks I’ll have, managing a whole household to myself.” 

Feyre rolled her eyes but Nesta nodded appreciatively—whether she approved of Elain’s train of thought or just because that way she didn’t have to console her nerve wrecked sister, Elain wasn’t sure. “You’ll have to arrange feasts, hire staff, plan visits to other castles—“

Feyre sighed. “That sounds dreadful. Deciding what to serve at feasts and managing maids, is that what you really want Elain? You’re far more interesting than that.”

Elain paused. Was she truly more interesting than that? She knew how to make polite conversation, appear demure in front of guests, could passably sew as a hobby and play enough piano to pass the time and entertain others. What more did she have to offer?

“I could get us out.” Feyre stared intently at Elain, taking her hesitant silence for agreement. “I brought my bow and arrows. We could leap out of the carriage and make our way through the woods, scavenging as we go. I’ll get us rabbits—“

Nesta scoffed. “You got lucky three times over eight years and managed to shoot some mangy rabbits. Father wouldn’t even let you take them to the kitchen so they could be prepared. How did you manage to pack your bow and arrow?”

“And we can leave this stupid Scottish Laird business behind us,” Feyre finished, ignoring Nesta completely. 

Ah, Feyre. If it wasn’t Nesta downright coddling her, it was Feyre protecting her in the only way she knew how: doing her best to provide for the family by hunting in the forests surrounding their country estate, even if she truly didn’t need to. Perhaps Feyre just wanted to get out of the house and away from her more domestic sisters.

Between two headstrong sisters, maybe it was no surprise that Elain often fell to the wayside, too quiet to branch out herself and develop her own sense of self.

“That’s very kind of you Feyre,” Elain said placatingly. “Don’t worry yourself over me. I did agree to the marriage, after all.”

“Only because Father guilted you into it,” Feyre snapped.

“Feyre!” Nesta snapped. “Stop it! This marriage is an… excellent… opportunity for Elain.”

Elain stifled a snort. Excellent opportunity, her ass. She knew for as long as she could remember that her one purpose in life was to be someone’s wife—she just figured it would be to an Englishman. When Father summoned her to his disorderly office late one afternoon nearly a year ago, Elain assumed it was to give his blessing to her suitor at the time, Graysen Nolan.

Imagine her surprise when Father told her that the family was teetering on financial ruin and needed Elain to make a strategic alliance for the long-term good of the family. The son of an unknown general wouldn’t do, Father tutted sadly. And as there were no other local families that he claimed were good enough for his precious daughter, the only solution was to look up.

And by ‘up,’ he meant North: north of the wall that separated England from Scotland, from civilization from utter barbarity. 

Elain clenched her hands. Ultimately, she agreed—she knew how difficult it would be for Father to marry off one daughter from an upstart merchant family, but three—but she couldn’t help but be disappointed in the decision. For a brief, shining few weeks, she thought she’d be able to marry Graysen for love, respect and familiarity. He was her choice.

And now, she was being trundled in the family’s rickety second carriage to her unknown husband in Scotland. This Laird was not her choice.

“Excellent opportunity, my ass,” Feyre grumbled. “He’s Scottish! I hear they eat people! And that they drink the blood of their enemies like wine!”

“Feyre!”

“Their men wear skirts with nothing underneath so their pricks are exposed—“

“Where did you hear all this?!”

“And they live in dirt huts and wear rags, and eat sheep stomachs, and worship faeries! They’re heathens!”

“Feyre, I am going to throw you from this carriage if you don’t shut your mouth right now! You’re upsetting Elain!” Nesta was breathing hard and glaring at her youngest sister. Feyre must have seen the truth of her statement on Elain’s face, as she didn’t say anything back.

“Sorry Elain,” her younger sister winced, seeing how wan her sister had gotten. “I heard Isaac saying he read a new publication about Scotland and it said those things. He’s dumber than his pigs though, so he probably made it all up.”

“Of course,” Elain said quietly, looking out the window again. But Feyre had brought up one of her most profound disappointments with her marriage: that it would be to a savage Scot. The fact that he was titled according to Scottish customs was no comfort. She doubted they were as evil as Feyre believed, but it was true that the Scottish were a bloodthirsty, violent sort, even if they claimed to no longer uphold those traditions.

But Father wouldn’t send her into the wild Scottish Highlands to be married to some man who would neglect her, Elain reasoned, calming down. Father wouldn’t abandon her like that. She wasn’t an item to be sold, like the many goods he sold and bought from all over the world.

Would he?

“Do you know anything about your future husband?” Nesta asked in mock cheer. “Er, the new one, I mean. Father has been rather tight-lipped about him.”

Technically, the current Laird was not the same man who had agreed to marry Elain. He had passed unexpectedly and his relation—a second cousin or grandnephew or something—inherited the marriage contract, which was tied not to the man, but to whoever was named Laird of Clan Macpherson, ensuring that Elain would have a Laird for a husband, no matter what.

“I don’t know much,” Elain admitted. “Just that he’s younger than the old Laird, and his name is Lucien.”

“Laird Lucien Macpherson,” Feyre hummed, tapping her chin. “Lucien doesn’t sound very Scottish, does it?”

“Maybe he’s French!” Nesta said excitedly, holding Elain’s hand and smiling at her with a smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. Elain felt a stab of appreciation for Nesta—she knew this was difficult for Elain, and was trying her best to lighten the load her sister bore. “Maybe he has family on the continent, and we can all go on vacation together someday!”

“I’ve heard rumors about him. I’ve heard,” Feyre interrupted, her voice lowering to a whisper, “that he’s a bastard.”

It was silent for a moment. “Oh come now, dear,” Elain yawned, rolling her eyes. “I’m sure he’s not any worse than the Englishmen we grew up around. Cousin Edmund was a right terror up until he married and he’s settled down a bit.” She resumed her vigil of the dramatic scenery outside the carriage. “Where would you even hear something like that anyways?”

There was a thump on the carriage floor. Feyre gasped and Elain whipped her head up to see Feyre rubbing her leg, glaring at Nesta.

“Silly me,” Nesta said primly, shooting a quick dagger-filled glance at Feyre. “My leg spasmed due to all this sitting and accidentally struck Feyre.”

“Are you alright?” Elain asked, looking between her sisters concernedly.

“Uh, oh yes!” Feyre smiled weakly at Elain, then frowned at Nesta. “Nesta has quite the strength to her. I’m sure it’ll be fine, just a bit sore.”

“Perhaps with a sore leg you’ll stop harassing the local wildlife with your feeble attempts at hunting them with your bow and arrow,” Nesta said slyly, curling her lip in Feyre’s direction.

Feyre gasped in outrage. “At least I go outside every once in a while! What have you ever done besides sit on your ass—“

“Feyre, language, for god’s sake!”

Content that all attention was no longer on her, Elain let her head hit the back of the seat. She sighed deeply. She tried to mimic Nesta’s optimism but couldn’t shake Feyre’s foreboding words and opinions. 

In a few days time, she would be married to a Scottish Highland laird. Who knew what he would be like? Maybe he’d be a brutal warrior who’d claw at her on their wedding night, demanding her maidenhead in the marriage bed without a second thought to her feelings. Or perhaps he’d be as old as her father, and she’d be more caretaker than wife. 

Elain took a deep breath to settle the knot in her stomach. There was no point in imagining something she had no control over, even though her lack of agency rankled her still. She was angry and disappointed at the situation, but what could she do?

Nesta and Feyre were still bickering, their voices a steady undercurrent to her turmoil. Their stupid argument unexpectedly angered her. Here she was, about to be hand delivered to a brutal Scotsman, and all her sisters could do was to snap at each other like they did every day. 

At least I’ll be away from them in Scotland.

The thought surprised Elain. She loved her sisters, strong willed and loud as they were. How could she be so uncharitable as to be excited at the idea of being away from them?

Perhaps because you’ll finally be able to determine what you want for yourself, and not what Nesta and Feyre want.

What did Elain want? She couldn’t say for certain. She had been raised with clear expectations of what her future would entail but beyond that… she was nothing. No interests or hobbies besides those chosen for her; even her playmates had been carefully picked, the only thought going towards what would help her future marriage prospects and not her happiness.

Feyre’s earlier statement came back to her: You’re far more interesting than that, Elain. That was very nice of her younger sister to say, as Elain didn’t even think that of herself. All of her life and upbringing had been built towards Elain being the wife of a well-to-do Englishman, perhaps a Lord or even an Earl. 

But now, no longer bound by those expectations of her life in England, something new awaited her.

It was a ludicrous idea—that upon her marriage to a Scottish devil, Elain could possibly experience the sort of freedom she didn’t know was even possible. She’d be shackled to her husband and his whims.

But surely he would be too busy to constantly keep an eye on her, Elain thought hopefully. He was a Laird, some type of bizarre Scottish ruler, so he probably didn’t spend too much time at the keep, or kept odd hours due to… whatever it is he did. She’d probably have plenty of time to herself: time to discover her own interests and things she wanted, rather than what others dictated to her.

No, she decided, this marriage, though not ideal, could provide Elain with something she’d never had until now: an opportunity to be away from her family and learn more about herself. It was an adventure, though certainly not as daring or dangerous as Feyre would have liked. 

Odd shapes and sights flitted before her unfocused eyes. Beings walked on two feet, like her, but with large, odd protrusions from their backs. Others had pointed ears. They all moved so gracefully, with an unnatural stillness and beauty to them. Is that what she looked like now? The woman’s heart beat erratically against her chest. Don’t think that, don’t think that, don’t think that. Another pinch to her skin rid her of these terrifying thoughts. She still felt a flash of pain from the motion. Surely the others around her didn’t eel such insignificant sensations. Her heartbeat remained, calmer, slower.

The skin on the back of her neck prickled, some primeval warning. Impossibly, the woman moved even less, turning herself into the statue she felt she had become. Sounds floated by her ears: a soft step, the barest creak of a floorboard, the hinges of the door behind her as they moved with the motion of the door. Silence for a moment, then the sounds again, in reverse: hinges, floorboard, step.

She let go of the breath she was purposely holding. Her sigh was soft but the voices from below drowned it out.

“…wrong with her?”

“…not sure… ever been Made… no other females besides Feyre to compare her to…”

Right. Not a woman, a female. Not a human, a fae. A flash of irritation glanced through her, but was quickly gone. 

Elain Archeron’s shoulders slipped and she let her eyes relax into an unseeing gaze, her mind blank, until the next time her eyes closed and she was overcome with visions she did not understand.

X

She spent her days sitting at the window, gazing outside and letting the warmth of the sun soak beneath her skin and into her bones. She was hollow, so it never took long. Everything that used to bring her joy–gardening, new bonnets and ribbons, him–no longer brighten her mood. Thinking of her past life brought nothing to her, except feelings of despair and longing so devastating that she can’t compel her body to move, or her lungs to draw another breath.

So she stopped thinking about before, and she tried in vain to keep her eyes open. 

She had a routine: each morning, Nesta–the only constant in either life–crept into her bedroom bearing a tray loaded with food and tea. The first few mornings Nesta had tried to bring Elain to the kitchen to eat her meals, perhaps coax her out of her shocked shell, but Elain barely had the strength to leave her bed, so food was brought to her instead. Her older sister picked out her outfit for the day while Elain stared at her, or stared at her breakfast, then graciously left Elain to eat and get ready. “For your privacy,” Nesta said. They both knew it made no difference, that Elain would perhaps take a bite or two of her food, and artlessly shrug into one of the many dresses that felt looser and looser each day, all for the sake of keeping up appearances, for clinging to the last bits of normalcy they both acutely remembered but knew they will never have again.

Nesta hustled back into Elain’s room after breakfast to fix her hair–Nesta always asked how Elain how she wants her hair done, bless her, like she thought Elain had a preference–before escorting Elain to the same room somewhere in this house they were imprisoned in for her to sit. She took her place at the chair looking outside, letting the sun bask over her alien body, her eyes open but unseeing, willing the heat from above to fill her with life like it used to.

So she sat.

And sat.

And sat.

But today was different. 

She knew when she woke up this morning that something would be different. She didn’t have a dream or vision–she would certainly know if she did–but something called out to her all the same. It was like a bug swarming around her head, an incessant buzzing that wouldn’t go away, soft as it was. It wasn’t until Nesta had escorted her to the sitting room that she realized what it was: a soft, rhythmic beating, not unlike a heart.

Something would happen, that much was clear. So, Elain did what she did every day: she sat, and waited, and waited. 

It didn’t take long (or perhaps it did; how was she to know?) before the first change to her routine occurred: she had a visitor. Feyre, good, strong, Feyre was here, and talking to her. Elain remembered the first time when she had seen Feyre like this, after she became like them, and thought her foreign looking, but devastatingly beautiful; soft, yet still more deadly than the bow and arrow she carried and upon which all their lives depended on. Seeing her now, in this light, with different eyes, Elain distantly realized she was even more ethereal, too alluring with her shining hair and hypnotic eyes, her confidence and tenderness. Is this how everyone saw her, or did it take Elain becoming something she hated to realize how magnificent her younger sister truly was? 

“I’m back,” Feyre said awkwardly, as if her presence wasn’t obvious. 

“I want to go home,” Elain whispered, staring ahead of her outside the window. If anyone can help her, it’s Feyre.

“I know.”

A wild thought that made her chest burn. “He’ll be looking for me.”

“I know.”

“We were supposed to be married next week.”

It wasn’t just her body and life that had been ripped from her, but her future as well. Perhaps that was the worst of it, that everything she’d wanted and worked towards had been stolen from  her for no other reason than a few monster’s cruel joke or sick revenge. She had felt very little other than complete apathy lately, but a feeling not unlike anger planted itself firmly behind her lungs and settled there. 

Feyre was still speaking, and a man–male–she vaguely recognized took his place next to her sister. Not in a brotherly way, her mind supplied, but in a way that screamed familiarity, intimacy, like them presenting a unified front was expected and rehearsed, based on the easy way he slipped a gentle hand around Feyre’s waist. The male looked at her with kindness and pity, and spoke softly to her, but like everyone else here, it unnerved her. Elain wanted it to stop. No one was listening to her. “I want to go home.”

The beating became louder. Louder. Louder. She didn’t just feel it around her; it was within her. It stayed like that until everyone left, and Elain was alone again, with just her chair, window and the dull ache of dead dreams and wants to keep her company.

X

Fire everywhere.  

A pained, inhuman screeching filled Elain’s sensitive ears. She tried to open her eyes and move her hands to cover her ears but she physically couldn’t, and so she was forced to witness the vision of a woman being consumed by flames. 

Elain wondered if her own transformation was like this. No, she thought as she watched in open-mouthed horror as the woman–a queen, Elain realized, as the regal crown atop her head fell off and her fine dress turned to ash on her skin–before her was wreathed in flames. As traumatic as Elain’s baptism was, it was nothing like the immolation before her. 

She smelled the woman’s skin burning, a sick, acrid smell that made Elain gag. Any hair the queen had has burned to a crisp. Elain stared at a naked, burning, bleeding, and raging queen, her yells of mingled fury and pain forcing Elain to witness the poor woman’s downfall. She breathed a small sigh of relief when the queen eventually crumpled to the ground and was still. 

But it wasn’t over. Where there was once skin and now just charred muscles, ligaments and bones, small bundles erupted from the queen’s smoking and bubbling flesh, growing long and thin, and covered her entire body. Her head shrunk, bones popped and contorted, and a long, narrow protrusion erupted from her mouth. She no longer had hands or legs, but a tail unfurled from her lower back.

And suddenly Elain stared at a large, quaking bird. The queen was still on fire, but where before she was actively burning, now her body simmered and smoldered. The bird squawked softly, and small embers escaped from her beak. She tried to stand, flap her new wings to lift herself off the ground but was unsuccessful. 

“The first moments after the transformation are always the most difficult.”

Elain hadn’t realized she wasn’t alone, too obsessed with the horror of a woman burning and being turned into a giant fire bird. She turned her head as much as she was able. A being–she thought it was a man–stared greedily at the queen before him, one corner of its mouth tilted up in a jagged smile. “How beautiful you turned out to be. You’ll be my most prized bird at the lake. Firebird by night, a throneless queen by day.”

Goosebumps erupted over Elain’s skin. The bird queen squawked again, angry this time, and feebly lifted her head, her small black eyes narrowed in hate. The woman’s strength made Elain pause; even after being turned into an abomination, she still had the will to fight.

The being behind her tsked. “None of that, now. You will become accustomed to your new form.” It turned to Elain, and the being grinned, all sharp teeth. “Even you.” 

X

Elain woke early the next morning, and for the first time since she’d been in this house, she rose and dressed herself. She didn’t care what she wore or how she looked. Her feet  took her to her usual room but she paused before she glided past. Not here, a small voice in the back of her mind whispered to her. Not today. 

So she moved on. She wasn’t sure what else this house contained but soon she was in a library. It had a large window overlooking the town and sea. Woodenly, she sat and waited. 

Eventually, Nesta found her, as usual. She offered a quiet good morning and kept a steely eye on her, but otherwise left Elain to herself. 

Then, Feyre. Her younger sister, like her older sister, clearly didn’t know how to handle Elain or what to say to her, and so asked awkward, stuttering questions. Their heartbeats always quickened when they were around her, now. 

The sound of their heartbeats still wasn’t as unsettling as the sounds from her vision. “I can hear the sea,” Elain offered. “Even at night. Even in my dreams. The ashing sea–and the screams of a bird made of fire.”   

Feyre rambled on, talking about a garden that Elain might like to spend time in, but Feyre wasn’t listening. “Will the bird of fire come to sit in the trees and watch me?”

Feyre and Nesta left, their heartbeats uneven. The anger she’d felt before resurfaced. Despite her sister’s concern for her, they werent listening to her. The firebird, their own transformations–they were so clearly linked together. Human women transformed into something other against their wills, at someone else’s behest. Why could no one understand her?

A new heartbeat, loud, steady, strong. The door behind her creaked open, and a voice that tempered her frustration spoke. “You–you left your room.”

The voice, male, was barely familiar, but it wrapped around Elain’s body like a warm hug. Her chest tightened with an unknown sense of awareness. She’d never felt anything like it before, and it unnerved her. Elain didn’t answer, and the visitor took it as an invitation. “Is there anything I can get you?”

The male asked if he can help himself to tea (why not, Elain thought dryly, it was wasted on herself), then was quiet as he tried to keep a steady hand to pour his drink. He was nervous but he stayed and even dared to sit in Nesta’s chair. The male asked if Elain would like a biscuit.

Perhaps it was the way the male spoke to her: casual, unbothered, even though he was clearly tense around her, based on the way his heart beat faster than a horse at a full gallop. His nerves were…oddly endearing, though she wanted nothing more than to hate the being next to her. 

Elain turned her head and met the gaze of her mate.

She was loath to admit it–the anger behind her lungs flared at seeing him again, the first time since that night–but he was handsome. If he were human, the scars on the side of his face and his odd golden mechanical eye would have been grotesque. With his lean face, with his brown skin and brilliant red hair, he was a picture of what she’d always imagined a fae would be: otherworldly,  beautiful, and cruel. 

He said his name was Lucien, seventh son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court, which meant nothing to her. What did matter to her is what this male had done to her. “You were in Hybern.”

“Yes.”

“You betrayed us.”

Guilt flashed through his one remaining eye and it filled Elain with righteousness. She didn’t let up, though. “I was to be married in a few days.”

His face flushed. She could still read guilt in his eyes, but more than that, rage simmered in the lines of his face, in the way he held himself. “I know. I’m sorry.”

She blinked. She’d meant to taunt him, and had expected a cool aloofness, or a lack of guilt at his previous actions. His response to his deeds in Hybern, and the even more robust reaction to Elain’s broken engagement, seemed almost…human-like. Were all fae like this? Less mercurial, cruel and arrogant as she’d been taught and what she’d experienced, but capable of feeling pain and regret and passion? 

It was a dizzying thought. Elain looked away, and extended an olive branch. “I can hear your heart.”

At the moment, she could do much more than hear his heart: she felt it beating inside her chest, keeping pace in perfect synchronicity with her own. His emotions rippled throughout her body, and a warmth she hadn’t felt for so long began in her chest and led back to the weary male sitting across from her.  

If anyone was to understand her, it would be him. 

“When I sleep, I can hear your heart beating through the stone. Can you hear mine?”

His face dropped, and Elain knew the words that will leave his lips before he spoke them. “No, lady. I cannot.”

The warmth in her chest fled, and she was as cold as she’s ever been. “No one ever does. No one ever looked–not really.” 

Lucien left soon after. She moved into a new residence with Nesta later that day, with a garden out back. A different male, Azriel, sat with her outside sometimes, under the guise of keeping her company but she knew it’s only someone providing yet another pair of eyes to watch Elain. 

She did not see Lucien for some time, but she still faintly heard his heart.

X 

Time passed, and bit by bit, Elain felt better. She  spent more time outside in the garden, sometimes alone, sometimes with a minder. She ate most of her meals downstairs in the kitchen or at the dining room table with whoever was staying in the house. It wasn’t back to normal, but it was something.

Eventually, a healer came to inspect her, and discovered what Elain already knew: that there was nothing wrong with her. She even had an awkward tea meeting with Lucien (and her nosy sisters and Feyre’s equally nosy friends). At one point, there was a tug from within her, unlike anything she’d ever felt. A tug, Lucien explained guiltily, on their mating bond. He apologized for unsettling her, but although the feeling was strange, she did not hate it. 

These were all new experiences for her. The only constant in her life were her visions. 

There were more now: ravens, and young hands turning old unnaturally fast, and a black box. Usually, they were one-off visions.

But she made frequent reappearances. Elain heard the former queen turned into a firebird crying out in anger and pain and frustration, and saw the woman transform from bird to human to bird again and again and again. She didn’t know the woman, but Elain felt a kinship with her: each somewhat dead, in their own way, and both different and changed. 

It finally came to a head when Azriel–the quiet one, the intense one, the one who she could perhaps envision liking if he had some of the sunshine and light she so desperately craved–put a name to her affliction: Seer. From there, information flowed readily, and everyone finally listened: the sixth mortal queen–Vassa–cursed, and kept at a lake by some sorcerer with other women turned into birds. Vassa might have an army, everyone around her seemed to think, that should they break whatever curse that lay over her, she’d be inclined to lend her support to war against Hybern. They squabbled amongst themselves as to who should go. Elain felt a heavy gaze on her, and a heartbeat echoed in her head.

“I’ll go.”

Elain didn’t know Lucien well enough to form an opinion of him; in fact, everything she knew about the male could be considered ill-informed at best, and traitorous at worst. He seemed respectable and loyal, and he helped Feyre escape from the Spring Court, but he was still a large reason why Elain suffered so much now.

So why did her heart stutter ever so slightly when the male whom the Cauldron decided was her mate announce he would leave them–leave her–to find the firebird queen Elain has been dreaming about?

Lucien was resigned, his lean face even flashing with excitement when it was pointed out that his journey would be very dangerous. Lucien stated he wanted to leave tomorrow, and Rhys barked orders and commands to his crew as they all dispersed, one by one.

Then it was just the two of them. Unlike every other time they’d been together, now they were truly alone. 

Lucien broke their silence “I’ve never been to the continent. Even if I wanted to go, my father…” Lucien chuckled wryly. “Well, perhaps it’s not under ideal circumstances, but it’s still an adventure. Have you ever been?”

Elain didn’t answer, and stared down at the embroidery on a pillow on the couch she was sitting on. She saw Lucien deflate out of the corner of her eye. “I ask too much,” he said blankly, rising to stand. “Take care, lady.”

“No!” Elain looked towards Lucien quickly. His eyebrows raised, and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Er, no, I’ve never been. Though I hear they have such wonderful tulip fields. My father was going to take me, before…”

Silence again. “If I’m able,” Lucien said slowly, “I’ll try to bring back some flowers. Do you have a favorite color?”

Despite herself, the corners of Elain’s mouth tipped upward into the barest glance of a smile. “Yellow.”

Lucien mirrored her and gingerly sat on the other end of the couch. “Yellow it is.” A pause. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

Take me with you. The thought came out of nowhere, and Elain startled herself. The idea was absolutely ludicrous. Along with it undoubtedly being dangerous, Nesta and Feyre would rather chain her to this couch than let Elain out of the house or be alone with Lucien for more than five minutes. If Elain suggested both, she’s sure her sisters would summon a host of healers to see if she had hit her head. 

But Lucien was getting to experience something she’d always wanted, and he described it as an adventure. How often, after their family had lost its fortune, had Elain daydreamed of being swept away by a handsome prince or lord and journeying across foreign lands to their new home? Lucien was the son of a High Lord, so practically the same thing, good looking, especially when he smiled, and his task ahead was certainly a journey…

But this was the male who was responsible for ruining her life, in more ways than one. She was supposed to be married just a short time ago, Elain thought incredulously, and now she was debating asking Feyre’s traitorous friend to steal her away on what could very well be a one way trip.

“I wish to be alone,” she answered frostily, staring straight ahead of her. 

“I’m sorry–”

“Don’t worry about getting me flowers, or anything for that matter. I don’t want anything from you.”

Lucien’s heartbeat, which had been beating furiously the entire time they were talking, stopped. He stood quickly, uttered a quiet, “Lady,” then departed without looking back. 

Elain remained on the couch, blinking to keep the tears away and only needed to wipe her damp cheeks once.

X 

Sleep hadn’t come easy to her since the night her life was destroyed, but Elain barely slept after refusing Lucien. She sat up in bed the next morning, biting her lip.

Lucien had apologized for his previous actions, been kind and gentle to her, and was at least making attempts to get to know her, even if it was for purely selfish reasons. Andnow he was leaving to go to the Continent, somewhere she’d always wanted to go, to find the firebird she’d been seeing behind her eyelids for months. It wasn’t fair. Elain clenched the bedsheets. While Lucien was off helping to save the world, Elain would be stuck in this damn house, feeling like an outsider looking in, unsure of who she was and what she was doing. They were her visions; surely Elain should accompany Lucien in traversing the Continent for this special queen.

Why couldn’t she go with?

Yes, Elain thought, her sluggish thoughts coming quick now. She should obviously go with Lucien to the exotic Continent, ripe with far-flung sights and sounds and wonders, to save this mortal queen. Anything to get out of this oppressive house and go somewhere new. 

She wanted to contribute, of course, but the allure of travel, of leaving this mansion and the pitying gazes and attitudes of everyone in it, was too great to ignore. It wasn’t a want: it was a need, the need to find herself in this new body and world she now inhabited. How could she hope to live if she couldn’t find something worth living for?

She needed to find her sisters, Elain thought, quickly throwing on a robe, before he left. Quietly walking down the hall as fast as she dared, she turned the corner to land at the top of the stairs.

Elain gave a small sigh of relief. Lucien was still here, his long, amber hair in a braid that showed off his sharp jaw, cheekbones and scared flesh. Numerous weapons littered his body, from a sword across his back to daggers to a bow and arrow that surely Feyre would love to get her hands on. He looked ready and determined. 

Slowly, Lucien turned his head and his gaze found hers. Everything quieted. The house’s inhabitants were gathered around Lucien, talking about what he could expect, but Elain focused only on the male in front of her. She tried to convey her apology and sorrow and want with her eyes, frozen with indecision and unable to say what she wanted. 

Lucien stared back at her, and while she could so clearly see his own sadness and longing reflected in his brilliant russet eye, he gave her a small, slow bow and turned away. Elain’s stomach dropped. He was going to leave her, and Elain would be stuck in this house like a neglected piece of furniture, without the one being who had a hope of truly understanding and listening to her. She took a half step down the stairs at the same time Lucien turned to Rhys and nodded his head…

“Wait!”

Everyone turned to stare at Elain, standing in just her thin robe at the top of the stairs. The baby hairs around her face stuck to her sweaty skin but sje straightened her back all the same. Elain stared at Lucien, who looked back at her, his eye wide. 

“Elain?” Nesta asked worriedly, taking the stairs two at a time to stand at her side. “Elain, dear, what’s wrong? Should you be out of bed? You’re warm–”

“Take me with you.” Elain ignored everyone’s faces, their eyes comically large and mouths gaping, and shook Nesta’s hands from her arms. Taking a deep breath, Elain addressed only Lucien. “I want to go with you.”

“Absolutely not,” Nesta snarled, pushing Elain behind her and throwing herself in front of her. “You’re staying a Continent’s worth of distance away from him!”

“And who are you to stop me?” Elain replied, stepping back in front of her older sister and taking a step down the stairs. “I’m not a prisoner here–”

“It’s not what you want–”

“Don’t tell me what I want!” Elain rarely argued with Nesta, even when they were human, but this release of the anger and frustration that had been building inside her felt good. 

“And it’s dangerous!” Elain couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen such anger in Nesta’s gray eyes. For a split second Elain swore a lick of flame gathered in her stormy pupils. “You’ve never had to handle a weapon or fight, you’ve barely exchanged more than a dozen words with anyone, and now you want to join him on an unbelievably dangerous mission to find this bird queen imprisoned by a death lord?” Nesta gripped her head in her hands. “Explain to me how any of that makes sense? What has gotten into you?”

Elain didn’t know how to explain the pull she felt towards Lucien, or why she needed to join him on this mission. “Lucien will keep me safe,” Elain answered instead. 

“Of course I will.” Lucien’s voice was strong, his eye no longer clouded with shock, at the same time Nesta muttered, “I bet he will.” The two glared at each other, and if Elain weren’t so desperate, she would find the staring match between her older sister and mate funny. 

Nesta turned back to Elain, and the anger in her eyes had now filled with confusion and fear. “Elain,” she whispered imploringly, “please. You’re not strong enough–”

“I can be!”

“One day, yes, you may be.” Nesta took her hand, her skin clammy. “But you’re not strong enough now, in any sense of the word. You’re still recovering. Please, don’t do this to yourself. Don’t do this to me.” 

Elain’s heart, already broken so many times recently, cracked again. She cradled Nesta’s hands in her own. “I think getting out of this house will help me.” She smiled wryly. “I’ve always wanted to go to the Continent. This way I don’t have to drag you along with me.”

Nesta shook her head. “No,” she said firmly. “I don’t believe he didn’t cast a curse on you or something.” Nesta turned to Feyre at the bottom of the steps, who was looking between Elain and Lucien with a curious look on her face. “Feyre, tell Elain this is preposterous.”

“How do you think you could help Lucien?” Feyre asked instead. 

“My visions,” Elain answered quickly, turning away from a shocked Nesta to talk to her younger sister. “If I have any further visions of the firebird queen or this death lord, that may help us alter our plan, or may save us if there’s any trouble.”

“Nesta is right. You don’t know how to hold a dagger or sword, or shoot a bow and arrow.”

“I can learn,” Elain said confidently, even while Feyre raised a single eyebrow. “Er, perhaps just the basics,” Elain amended. “And it would be more convincing if a pair of fae is traveling together, rather than just one. Distant family members on vacation, or something.”

Silence. Elain swallowed, looking around. Nearly everyone–Cassian, Azriel, Morrigan–shared shocked and perplexed expressions, torn between wanting to be anywhere else in the world but unable to look away from the dramatic wreck that was the Archeron sisters’ fight. Rhys had the same contemplative look on his face as Feyre. 

And Lucien…while no longer surprised, his face and body were tense. His russet eye darted between Feyre and herself. 

Feyre nodded her head. “You’ll be a liability to Lucien while you’re together,” she said, not unkindly. “He’ll have to protect not just himself, but you as well. You may be slightly more inconspicuous traveling together, but it will be difficult: you won’t be sleeping in beds, you’ll rarely have a warm meal, and there will be none of the usual comforts you’re used to. Your visions will certainly be useful, though.” She turned to Lucien. “Lucien, would you agree to having Elain go with you?”

Lucien could say no, Elain thought. If he were smart and in his right mind, he would have already said that by now. He could reason that it was too dangerous to bring her along (true); that she would only slow him down (true); that they’ve only exchanged a few sentences between themselves in which they tolerated each other, and this type of situation was not the time to get to know each other (especially true).

But as Lucien lifted his head to look at Elain, she focused on his heartbeat. It was violently beating before, hammering against his chest, but it had slowed down and evened out. Steady and calm. Elain knew his answer before he opened his mouth. “Yes, “ Lucien said loudly and clearly. “Yes, she can come.”

Elain didn’t pay attention to Nesta screaming at Feyre, or Feyre’s responding argument. The corners of Lucien’s mouth barely turned up, and he bowed his head towards Elain. 

“Come.” Feyre laid a gentle but firm hand on Elain’s elbow and guided her back to her room. “Rhys will work out a new plan with Lucien. He was planning on roughing it through the wilderness when it was just him, but if you’re with him…” Feyre shot her a glance. “Well, that may need to be adjusted.”

Feyre practically shoved Elain inside her bedroom and locked the door behind her. “I don’t believe Lucien did anything to you, but you’re not under a spell, right?”

Elain scoffed. “No. I’m not even sure what magic Lucien has, but I know he’d never do that to me.”

“He wouldn’t, but I wanted to make sure.” Feyre let out a deep breath and leaned against the door. “Why do you really want to go?”

Elain worried her bottom lip. “I wasn’t lying when I said getting out of this house would do me good.”

“You’re more than welcome to venture around Velaris whenever you want.”

“But not without a chaperone,” Elain shot back. “I need to be free, without you or Nesta or anyone breathing down my back. I know you’re worried about me,” Elain said when she saw Feyre about to speak, “but I need this.”

Feyre stared at her, her gaze unwavering for so long Elain squirmed from the scrutiny. “You know, Lucien had the same reaction as Nesta did just now when he learned that I voluntarily stayed in the Night Court with Rhys.” Feyre smiled fondly. “He couldn’t believe it. Thought Rhys had brainwashed me or was forcing me to stay with him.” The smile slid from her face. “What we said to each other that day… Rhys thinks it extremely ironic that Lucien is now on the receiving end of such a similar situation.”

“Why did you stay?”

Feyre grinned. “The same reason, I think, that you feel the need to join Lucien on this journey: you need to leave to find yourself, and where you belong. Being with someone you have a  connection with, whether you choose to act on that or not…it’s highly tempting, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know if I want him like that. After Grayson…”

“You never needed Grayson or anyone else to ever be complete.”

Elain nodded. “If I have any opportunity to get away from this house, away from everyone…”

“You need to take it.” Feyre cocked her head and grinned. “Luckily, Lucien isn’t exactly hard on the eyes, is he?”

Elain spluttered but Feyre spared her from answering. “Come on,” she laughed. “I’ll help you pack.”

They managed to find a few pairs of Illyrian leathers that fit her, as well as various tops and cloaks in muted shades. Feyre tossed a pair of soft, brown knee high boots to Elain when she was changed. “You can’t take any more than that.” Feyre gave Elain an appraising look from head to toe when she was changed, then nodded in approval. She handed Elain her pack. “Hold that, carry it. How does it feel?”

Elain had watched Feyre pack more clothes, small garments and gear than she thought she could handle, but the bag was surprisingly light in her arms. “I thought it’d be heavier.”

“Fae strength took a while to adjust to, more than being able to hear and see everything. I broke quite a few plates and cups after I was changed. Come on, let’s get everything else.”    

Next they went to the weapons room. Elain gasped. The room was filled with more weapons than she’d ever glimpsed in the Nolan estate: swords of all different sizes, spears, knives and daggers and serrated blades, maces, spiked balls on chain, bows, crossbows, even something that looked like a trident. Feyre eyed her up, then went to a rack holding spears of different lengths. “A spear would probably be the easiest weapon for you to handle. This one isn’t too long or heavy. Just point and poke.”

“I know how spears work,” Elain replied with a roll of her eyes. 

“Never hurts to remind you. And whatever you do, don’t stab Lucien. I know how he can be, so try to resist aiming your spear at him when he gets sarcastic.”

Feyre also handed Elain some of the smallest knives she had ever seen–”These are no bigger than the pairing knives we had back in our home!” “Good, then you shouldn’t have any problems with them!”–then they made their way back to the foyer of the house. Elain grimaced with every step she took; the leathers were more uncomfortable than everyone made them appear. 

Lucien and Rhys weren’t there yet. Elain set down heavily on the bottom stair. She was really doing this, she realized. She was stepping out of her comfort zone, leaving whatever solace she had mustered in this foreign house in this strange land, to venture to an equally unknown and dangerous land for a mission with real consequences, not just for her and her family, but the entire world. There would be no one besides her but a male she hardly knew, who was part of the reason why her life had been upended, who she would have to rely on for her safety. Maybe Nesta was right. Who was Elain kidding; she had no training to do this. She was being childish by insisting she accompany Lucien for no other reason than the need to find herself–

Lucien walked into the foyer with Rhys. Looking around, Lucien shot Elain a quick smirk when he saw her. Every worry left her. Lucien seemed relaxed and at ease, more so than he did this morning. If he wasn’t worried about their mission ahead, why should she be?

Rhys and Feyre were talking quietly to themselves in the corner. Lucien sat down on the stair a few feet away from her. 

“I hope I don’t end up on the receiving end of that spear, lady” Lucien said conversationally.

“Feyre told me to resist stabbing you, even when you get a bit of an attitude.”

Lucien scoffed and put a dramatic hand to his chest. “I prefer to think of my words as being witty and charming.”

“She didn’t describe you in such flattering terms.”

“Feyre has a wicked streak in her as well. Are all the Archeron sisters known for their sass and willingness to run head first into perilous situations?”

“Perhaps if you don’t give me any reason to use this spear on you, you’ll find out.”

Lucien laughed, and Elain was speechless. Feyre wasn’t wrong–Lucien was certainly not hard on the eyes. An understatement, really. His long red hair was braided perfectly down his back and contrasted brilliantly with his rich, deeply tanned skin. His smile was bright and open, and stretched the light laugh lines around his plush mouth. The jacket he wore was tailored perfectly and snug on his arms. Lucien had large, broad hands that were resting between muscled thighs. Errantly, Elain wondered how his hands would feel like on her. 

She grimaced. This was the male who was partly responsible for ruining her life with Grayson, and she was fawning over his dumb hands when he had done little more than offer a few flirty words with her. She would not be influenced by whatever bond existed between them and willed her traitorous heart to settle. Shewas accompanying him to the Contient for her own reasons, which had nothing to do with the male sitting next to her.

Feyre and Rhys walked over to them. “Alright, it sounds like Rhys and Lucien determined a new route. Rather than take you both to the edge of the human continent, like they had originally planned, we’re going to send you both straight east to Montesere. Since he’s taking two instead of one, Rhys won’t be able to winnow you as far. If he tried to send you any further south, you’d be far too close to Koschei’s lake.” Feyre shrugged apologetically. “We can’t risk the three of you so close to her territory unguarded. You’ll be much further north than we initially planned, so you might need to take a ship south along the coast, then head east into the Continent towards the lake.” 

“You will have to make good time on foot if you choose not to take a ship,” Rhys supplied. “I’ve given Lucien extra provisions and money, but the rest is up to you.” He held out his arms to them. “Are you ready?”

This was it, the last chance for Elain to back out. Could she leave her sisters for untold dangers? Could she stand to be alone with the being she simultaneously loathed and craved? 

Elain nodded. “Ready.” She gave Feyre a quick hug, then laid her hand on Rhys’s arm. Her sister grabbed Lucien in what Elain thought was a fierce hug, but based on the way she gripped Lucien’s shoulders and whispered something harshly in his ear and the tightening of his face, something else was at play.

Lucien detached himself with a forced smile and terse nod. “Noted, Feyre.” He turned to Rhys and gave him an equally tense look. 

“Montesere is no ally, so I’ll only be able to winnow you two to the edge of the territory, and you’ll have to find yourselves to a port. I also won’t have enough energy to winnow you both to the Continent and glamour your appearances, so you’ll need to be careful not to attract attention. Do you have everything?”

“You have a choice,” Lucien called once he was on the mostly-level temple floor, unsheathing the sword strapped to his back.

The god didn’t bother to look at him, although Lucien half wondered if he could hear over the sound of buzzing. This close, the swarm was loud enough Lucien’s ear’s were starting to ache.

“Hey,” Lucien yelled, louder this time. A stray bee landed on his nose, and Lucien swiped at it.

Still no response.

Lucien sighed, picked up a piece of marble next to his boot, and threw it at the god. It bounced harmlessly off an antler. That got his attention, and the god swung his head to glare at Lucien with golden eyes.

“The god-butchers really have fallen if they’re resorting to rocks.”

Lucien lifted the sword in his hand, the metal flashing in the sun. “I’ve come to offer a choice.”

“Yes, yes, leave or be killed, I know,” the god signed, sounding bored by the options. “You’re not the first of the butchers to come here and you won’t be the last.”

“You think I’m like most Godkillers?” Lucien asked.

The god looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time, taking in the left eye made of metal, almost the same shade as the god’s own, the long red hair carefully braided back. Recognition danced across his face, at last garnering a response. The god slowly rose to his feet. 

Lucien ran through his memory of the remaining gods, the long list of names and descriptions he’d been forced to memorize during his years of training at the keep. He’d spent hours on that list, staying up until the early hours of the morning with nothing but a candle pouring over the pages.

“Hello Aristaeus.”

If it was possible for an immortal being to look surprised, Aristaeus did. “I thought your kind destroyed the old records.”

“The keep has a record for our own usage.” The master, Azriel, insisted it was so the Godkillers would know what they were up against, the monstrous gods they faced. Lucien thought it was bullshit. All the gods who’d proved any real danger had long since been driven out, either killed or sent so deep into the wilderness they’d never be found. Which left Lucien fighting those who were too stupid or weak to leave.

No, Lucien thought they kept the records, made novices memorize every single name on them, because there was something profoundly sad about killing a creature who no one remembered. Who would be wiped completely from existence after they died. And even the Godkillers, for all their zeal and devotion, felt enough pity to do that one act of kindness.

Aristaeus spread his arms widely. “Then you know to fear me.”

Lucien choked down his snort. As if anything he was sent to face made him fear. The minor gods were as dangerous as mosquitos, and twice as irritating.

And they were especially irritating to the villages that paid Lucien to dispatch of them, gathering the little spare change they have left over after market day in a communal cup in the tavern until they had enough saved to pay a Godkiller to get rid of the god who took delight in wrecking their harvest or killed one too many of their herd.

Aristaeus apparently had a propensity for sending bees at all hours of the day, attacking festivals, harvests, or children in the little time they were given to play.

Which unfortunately meant he had to die. So Lucien brandished his sword threateningly and advanced a step.

“I’m going to send your pretty head to your brother,” Aristaeus said. “Remind him of how far the prince can fall.”

Lucien arched an eyebrow, the one that wasn’t cut through with the scar that ran down his face from brow to cheek He’d been described as many things in his life, but pretty was not one he’d heard. Not when the metal eye took so much of people’s focus. 

“Eris would probably thank you,” Lucien grumbled.

“Family troubles?” Aristaeus asked, advancing on him, the bees around his head forming a clump. Lucien sensed what was coming a second before, and held up his free hand. Fire flicked at his fingers, smoke trailing from them.

The cloud of bees started to swarm, and Lucien willed the flames higher, the smoke growing thicker. It burned at his eyes and nose, but he kept the flames alight. The bees slowed, circling Lucien but not attacking.

“That’s not fair,” Aristaeus pouted. “Your kind isn’t supposed to have magic.”

“Special allowances were made,” Lucien said, hoisting the sword up and advancing. Understatement of the millennium. “Now yield and leave this place.”

“They used to worship me,” Aristaeus whined. “They would crowd at this temple, pray for their crops to bear fruit, for their fertility.” The bees were fleeing now, trying to escape the heavy smoke still filling the air. “And then they all left me alone, all alone here, and they’re unhappy? The bees are the least of their issues, I should be slaughtering them in their beds.”

“Times change.” Lucien swung the sword, the sharp blade meeting Aristaeus’ neck. The edge that Lucien had so carefully honed that morning sliced through flesh and sinew, severing his head cleanly.

The God didn’t even bleed, just collapsed to the ground before breaking apart into dust. As if he’d never existed at all. Lucien huffed, extinguishing the flames still licking at his fingerprints, and bent down to claim his spoils.

-

The tavern was unusually crowded when Lucien arrived. He was used to a few sad souls, men with nothing better to do than drink the day away, maybe a bar maiden if he was lucky, but today it was teeming. Like the whole town had gathered to see if he’d actually come back.

Lucien lifted the sack he held at his side, dumping its contents on one of the long tables. The head of Aristaeus, the only thing left of the god, tumbled out. The men nearest leapt back, a few retching at the sight.

Lucien snorted. It always surprised him how squeamish farmers could be, seeing what they did to their own animals. Not that presenting heads was his preferred method, but he needed to prove the job was done somehow, and physical evidence was required more often than not.

“I’m owed three talons,” Lucien said, sliding onto the bench in front of the table. “And a cask of ale.”

A mug was placed in front of him, foam nearly flowing over the rim. The deliverer, a man whose hair was more gray than brown slid into the seat across from him. His tunic was slightly finer than those of the rest of the men, his posture straightener. Signs he wore with pride of his town leadership.

Lucien searched his memory trying to find his name. “Grogov,” he said after a second. “I take it you have my coins.”

Grogov’s dark eyes darted around the room, marking a few of the men out. The largest ones. “A few of us were discussing,” he said, “and three talents is a steep price to pay for a day of work.”

“Yet three talons were what you offered, and agreed to.”

Grogov forced out a laugh, the sound strained. “An offer made under duress. Our children were being attacked.”

“They were stung by bees,” Lucien corrected.

“Mothers were hysterical. We felt like we had no other option but to offer something we couldn’t afford to pay.”

“Yet you had the money to print posters,” Lucien said, leaning back in his seat. His hand, the one not wrapped around the handle of the beer mug he had yet to drink from, drifted down to his waist band, and the knife tucked there. “And enough coins to show me when I arrived.”

“Circumstances change,” Grogov said. The men he’d given such significant glances to seemed to advance, forming a loose ring around them. “And I’m sure we could come to an arrangement.”

Lucien’s fingers wrapped around the knife hilt. “An arrangement where you pay me three talents?” 

Another strangled laugh from Grogov. “You drive a hard bargain.”

“One where I’m paid what I’m owed?”

Grogov leaned closer. “There’s always room for debate.” Behind him, one of the men, no doubt the largest in the village, pulled out a sword. The blade was dull, rusted in parts, and Lucien had to keep from snorting at the lack of threat it posed.

“Threatening a Godkiller then?”

“Merely opening the conversation. After all, you’re alone. No companions, no family.”

Lucien hummed, understanding the threat in the words. No one would notice if you were missing, not for a long while anyway. He made a show of debating the idea, furrowing his brow, before leaping out of his seat with speed no human man could hope to match. He threw Grogov against the wall of the tavern, sliding the small knife out of his pocket and holding it against the man’s throat.

“Talk away.”

Grogov swallowed, the movement of his throat pressing the blade into his skin. Blood welled, and his eyes slid to the head still on the table. The village lads, picked for their size, not their bravery, seemed frozen in place.

“I—”

He was saved from talking himself into further danger by the tavern door flying open. Trumpets sounded, the ridiculous jaunt of the Lord of Kouemos. A song far too chipper for a ruler who was, by all accounts, a terror.

Lucien didn’t drop the blade, but did turn his head towards the sound. The messenger lowered the trumpet, looking entirely too pleased with himself. The colors of his costume, the bright red and yellow stripes, were comically amidst the dirt and grime of the tavern. As were the shoulder pads that ballooned around his upper arms, and the tight, short breeches.

 Musicians, Lucien thought to himself.

“I have a message for Lucien Vanserra.”

“Present,” Lucien growled, not moving. He watched the tavern still as they stared at him, tried to square the rough Godkiller threatening the town’s reeve with the stories they’d no doubt heard. Of the gentle noble, his mother’s favorite for his kind heart, so different than that of his brothers.

“I hail from Kousemos,” he said, with a flourishing bow. Lucien tried not to roll his eyes. As if anyone would be able to miss that, based on his, well, everything. A bunch of ostentatious self righteous pricks they were. “You’ve been summoned by our fearless, magnanimous, kind—”

“Get one with it,” Lucien interrupted.

The messenger cleared his throat. “Our leader requests your presence.”

“Will he pay?”

“Most assuredly, anything you may ask for. Our leader is well known for being generous, the most generous—”

“Yes fine,” Lucien sighed. He pressed Grogov closer to the wall. “Just as soon as this one pays up.”

Grogov reached a trembling hand into his pocket, pulling out the three gold coins Lucien was after. Apparently matters were much less up for debate now. Lucien snatched the coins, before lowering the knife. He cast a mournful glance at his ale, still untouched and gestured for the messenger to lead the way out of the tavern.

Shockingly, his horse was still where he’d left it, tied to the post in front of the stable. “Sorry for the delay, Tam,” Lucien said, stroking his roan mane once before pulling himself up into the saddle.

“My lord,” the messenger said, running after him. The shoulder pads flapped dramatically up and down, and Lucien bit down on his tongue to hold in his laughter. “I insist upon accompanying you.”

“It’s Lucien.” He hadn’t been called Lord in a long, long time. “And you’ll just slow me down.”

“I insist,” the messenger said. “My orders demand it.”

Lucien nodded. “And what’s your name?”

“Hart, sir.” He gave another little bow of flourish.

“Hart, who gave you this order?”

“The reeve of Kousemos,” he said proudly.

Lucien smiled, one of the slow, sarcastic ones he’d all but mastered. “Then I, Lord Lucien, outrank him, yes.”

Hart blinked. “Well, I—”

“So I order that I ride alone.” And with that, Lucien nudged Tamlin on, the horse starting off at a brisk trot, leaving Hart standing in front of the stable, a bright spot against the dusty ground.

-

Kouemos had changed since he’d last come. Sure, the buildings were the same, small shacks lining the one street leading up to the large manor house. But it was like the air was different, hung thick with the raw, almost bitter, taste of power. The town seemed to hum, getting fuzzy around the edges. The colors were too bright, the green of the plants a brilliant emerald that he’d only seen on the tapestries his mother liked to sew with her ladies.

Lucien shifted uneasily in the saddle. Even Tamlin seemed uncomfortable, his ears held back, muscles tensed.

“It’s fine,” Lucien said, not sure if he was talking to himself or the horse. His voice seemed to echo, the world far too quiet. Tam’s hooves drummed against the cobblestones in the silence, alerting anyone who was waiting for them. Here we are. Lucien peered at the small houses, expecting to see dirty faces pressed against the windows, but there were none.

In fact, there were no people anywhere, not in the streets, not manning the few carts that dotted the side of the road. They looked haphazard in their placement, as if the owner had just dumped them wherever he stood and walked away.

The magic in the air only seemed to grow stronger as he got closer to the manor house, the colors around him brighter. Flowers bloomed from window boxes, overflowing their containers and spilling onto the ground. The hue almost burned at his eye, too bright for any human to take in.

The gates to the house were left wide open and unguarded, inviting anyone who wanted to to enter. Lucien swung himself off Tamlin’s back. A trap, certainly, but one he was too curious not to enter. “Stay here,” he told the horse. Tamlin shuffled his hooves uncomfortably.

Lucien pulled out one of the twin blades he’d strapped on his back, brandishing it high as he walked through the entrance.

If Lucien thought the town had been bright, it was nothing compared to inside the gates. Vines crawled over the ground, blossoms peeking through anywhere they could get sunlight, crowding against one another. Fruit hung from branches, apples in the same bunches as oranges, pressed next to plums.

Lucien plucked one, biting into it. Juice gushed down his chin, too much to be contained in any normal fruit. He spat it out quickly, throwing the plum away from him. Where it hit the ground, it instantly started sprouting, green pushing through the pit and reaching up towards the sky.

He shoved through the vines, trying to wade towards the house’s entrance. He slashed at the growth, but it seemed to grow back faster than he could beat it back.

By the time he made it to the entrance he was dripping in sweat, thick rivulets streaming down his forehead. His tunic stuck to his skin, the white linen practically see through it was so damp.

Lucien pounded on the door with his fist, and it flew open.

“Greetings, Lord Lucien,” the man said brightly, utterly unfazed by Lucien’s dishevelment. Or the sharp blades in his hands. He wore the same garish costume as the messenger, the colors making his features look washed out, plain. “The town reeve is waiting for you.”

“I heard.”

“Good, good,” the man said, stepping back. His eyes were unfocused, looking through Lucien. “I’ll take you right there.” He turned mechanically, leading  Lucien through the halls. His motions were jerky, slow, like he wasn’t in control of his own body.

The rest of the house seemed to be in a similar daze. Lucien cocked his head as a maid carrying a bucket full of flowers almost slammed into him. Like she didn’t even notice he was there. Her dress was far too nice for her station, a tick velvet brocade that would be more fitting among a lady’s ball gowns. And far nicer than anything anyone in Kouemos had ever owned.

Lucien followed the man through the lower floor and up a side staircase, although he had a sinking suspicion he knew exactly where they were going. Sure enough, they came to a stop in the middle of a long hallway, facing the middle of three doors in it.

“The reeve will be so excited to see you.”

Lucien smiled wryly. “Of that I’m sure.”

The door flew open without either of them touching it, opening up to a darkly lit chamber. Lucien strode in, a rough smile still on his face.

The room was utterly barren except for a single bed in the middle of the room, and the woman lounging on it.

She was stunning, gold hair floating around her shoulders in soft curls. Same soft pink dresses she always seemed to wear, same heart shaped face peering up at him. Lucien wracked his brain trying to remember the last time he’d seen her. Two years ago? Three? Big brown eyes met his, and Lucien saw the amusement flickering in their depths, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking.

“Godkiller,” she said, the single word somehow managing to sound melodic on her tongue.

Her whole body covered in a thin layer of flour and with her fingers kneading the chocolaty dough in front of her, Elain stood in the kitchen of the Riverside House. Absently, her fingers danced over the dough, her eyes were trained on outside, watching the scenery.

What was Elain watching? The snowflakes dancing around in the air? The oh so powerful High Lord of the Night currently sitting in snow, roaring with laughter?

No, Elain’s sole focus was on her mate. Her mate who swirled the tiny heir to the Night Court around, throwing Nyx into the air, catching him again. His small wings flapped behind his back every time he was up in the air. They laughed loudly, Nyx giggling uncontrollably when he once again landed in his uncle’s arms. 

Colour bloomed in Elain’s cheeks when she caught herself grinning at the scenery she was watching. Her heart swelled, beating against her rib cage. She had to admit that her ovaries did some tiny, happy flips at the sight of Lucien and how he acted with his nephew. It was truly a sight for sore eyes. And not to start about the fiery male himself.

Lucien, he looked stunning with his hair the colour of fire, his jacket a forest green, his tall and muscular body standing in the middle of the endless white.

The dough long forgotten, Elain turned her back to the window, leaned against the counter, crossed her arms over her chest and bit down on her lip. What could she do that that night would turn out differently than every time before? How should she approach him? How would he react after years of ignorance?

Those cookies she was making were specifically for her mate. She had it all planned out, had been daydreaming about it already many times in the past days. Nuala, Cerridwen and herself had made the plan with the cookies that were then in the making. The plan and everything that came after it sounded so damn good in Elain’s mind she simply had to smile again when thinking about it. 

Elain would offer her mate the cookies. Lucien would accept them. She would apologise then for the past years and Lucien would accept that apology as well. And then there were two ways, Elain had imagined, about how that conversation could continue.

Firstly, they would talk, that she would apologise again, Lucien would bring her to his chest, hug her, hold her, comfort her. He would tell that it is fine and that he wanted to accept the bond with her. 

Second option would be a little bit…spicier. Oh gods! The things she had already imagined when it came to Lucien… Elain knew that she could never let anyone know. Not even Nuala and Cerridwen, her best friends. 

The second option would be that he would kiss her —first softly then more passionately. Lucien would sit her on the counter, both would loose their clothes, he would taste her —Grayson had never done that but she imagined Lucien to be a male who liked doing that sort of things. Elain he would softly whisper with his beautiful, deep voice, his head between her thighs. Elain squeezed her thighs together at that thought, giggling sheepishly. Lucien would then take her on the counter, then they would go over to the table. Elain.

Maybe he would turn her around, so that her front was facing the table. Elain. She obviously had no idea how that worked, had only ever read about that in one of Nesta’s books, but she was sure Lucien had experience in that matter. He would move—

"Elain!" Someone was snapping their fingers in front of the Archeron sister’s face. Shrieking slightly, Elain blinked her eyes open, not even remembering when she had closed them.

"Are you trying to burn down the whole house, sweetie?" It was the tall Illyrian general who stood in front of her. One hand held a tray of burnt cookies the other was braced on his hip while he examined Elain. Amusement laced his features and he raised a brow. He definitely knew that Elain had been daydreaming and Cassian for sure also knew about who she had been dreaming. Good thing was that he did not know the…dirty things she had been thinking about. Gods! A hole in the ground should open if he knew.

"Daydreaming huh? Don’t worry the male of your dreams will soon come inside. Nyx wanted to build another fortress though so it can take a little while before they actually get inside."

Elain’s lips parted, she wanted to protest or at least say something, but nothing left her mouth. She forced a smile to her lips and nodded.

Cassian’s features turned soft, sincere and honest. He placed the tray on the counter and inhaled deeply. "Lucien is a good male, Elain. He likes you, this is very obvious. Don’t make it so hard for him, sweetie, he does not deserve that.”

Elain had to giggle at that and buried her hot face in her hands. "How can you read me so well, general?"

Cassian laughed at that. He leaned forward and kissed his sister-in-law’s cheek, before making a spin on his heels and heading for the living room. 

On the threshold he paused and looked at Elain over his shoulder. "I am your sister’s mate. You are quite similar in many ways. And apart from that, I have also known you for quite a while. You get that look on your face when you think about Lucien.” 

The tall Illyrian flashed Elain a toothy grin and winked before disappearing into the living room, leaving Elain alone with her tray of burnt cookies and the dough for Lucien’s cookies that still had to be done. Gods! 

Enough with the daydreaming, a lot had to be done then. Elain also still had to make the cream for the cookies so that they would truly be perfect for her mate. 

Stress kicked in the moment she finished her thought. But also anticipation, excitement and euphoria. Happily giggling and clapping her hands once, Elain turned back to the counter and went back to work on her dough.

That day, that Solstice would change everything, Elain knew it. That day —maybe night— would be the start of something new. Of something great!

✧ ✧ ✧

"You can have one. Take the chocolate one with the cream, they are the best." Elain’s voice was cheery, yet soft and calm. The emissary hadn’t heard her enter his gaze solely focused on his mate’s freshly baked goods. 

With colour blooming high on his defined and tanned cheeks Lucien turned around, his hands simultaneously moving into the pockets of his pants. Anticipation bubbled inside of him – he hadn't seen Elain in such a long time, had been yearning to hear her voice again. And there it was, her soft and mellifluous voice, one of the most beautiful sounds in the entire world.

Elain’s heart pounded in her chest when her mate turned around. He looked so handsome, his style simply magnificent.

Lucien had dressed up even more for Solstice, a green suit jacket perfectly fitted for him paired with dark brown breeches and polished boots of the same colour. His hair was neatly combed back, fixed with a leather strap. He was a male of stunning, cruel beauty and—

Elain was totally staring. Colour and heat filled her from her cleavage up to the top of her head, a soft laugh slipping through her lips.

Lucien forgot how to breath when his eyes locked with Elain's. There she stood, Elain Archeron, the king slayer, the most beautiful female in Prythian, his mate. 

She was dressed in the most stunning forest green dress, her long hair falling in soft waves over one shoulder, her fawn eyes lighting up when their gazes met. It still felt odd to think about Elain in such a way, had he once thought of Jesminda to be the most beautiful female in the world. But there was no comparison to Elain—her presence alone could light up the darkest night.

And maybe Lucien had just imagined it, but there had been that spark in her eyes. A spark full of anticipation, of hope and admiration.

The corner of Lucien’s mouth tipped up when he bowed his head and parted those beautiful lips that Elain often found herself gazing at.

"Lady Elain," he greeted, his voice a deep rumble through the room. The richness of it reverberated through Elain and made the hair on her body rise—it had been such a long time since she a had heard his voice.

"You look…beautiful tonight, my lady," Lucien breathed and watched his mate’s cheeks turn even a shade darker. Marvelous, he had wanted to say, breathtaking, stunning, magnificent. But he had chosen beautiful, not wanting his compliment to be too straightforward.

You too, Elain wanted to say but she didn’t. Why didn’t she? She had no idea. The words just died in her throat, her nervousness about his presence —about her mate’s presence— being too much for her to form a coherent thought and—

"A cookie. Have one, Lucien.”

Lucien breathed a soft laugh and dipped his chin. "Thank you, I think I'll have one later," the emissary said with a smile on his lips.

"Feel free to have one now!" Elain pushed. She wanted him to taste them. Those cookies had specifically been baked them for him, the cream topping was made of whipped cream with cinnamon and sunflower seeds. She thought it was perfect for her mate. It was his present!

"Later. I am not hungry now, my lady." Lucien smiled again, his heart rapidly beating against his rib cage. He could not accept them now. Not like that. Not with what it would mean…

Elain’s smile faltered, her eye brows creasing. She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. "Of course,” the Archeron sister mumbled and dipped her chin. 

“There is still something…some things…something concerning the food in the dining room I have to do. I have to do—prepare, I mean,” she hastily brought out and waved at Lucien, spinning around on her heels, momentarily nearly colliding with the doorframe before heading out of the room. 

Why did her throat feel so dry all of a sudden? It burned and she—

Why hadn’t Lucien accepted her cookies? Why didn’t he want one? Why did he—

Was he finally tired of her constantly shutting him out? Pushing him away? Being ignorant towards him. 

She would understand it. Honestly it would make so much sense if he no longer wanted to trail after her. He obviously had to be tired of her ignorance… Of course lately it had got better. Elain had sought his company more often, but had never really made that much conversation with him. It had always stayed with how the other one was doing and what they were about to do. It was just…the mating bond made everything so complicated. Elain often found herself to be so terribly nervous around Lucien, she could not even think straight. 

A bolt pierced through Lucien's heart when Elain had stormed out of the room. But accepting those cookies would mean accepting food from his mate which would mean sealing the bond. He wanted nothing more than that, the bond —of course— but Elain did not, or at least had not made a sign that she did. He could not force her into that like that. Elain had probably no idea what she had suggested and what it would mean. He had wanted to explain it, but Elain had already left. He would talk to her later. Maybe there would be a chance for just the two of them to talk?

Lucien had noticed that Elain had changed a bit around him. Other than hiding and shying away he had noticed that she had sometimes sought his company in the past months. But they hadn’t really talked. Shy glances, sheepish smiles, polite nods and some small talk had been the most of communicating they had done.

Maybe things would change a little bit that night? Maybe things would finally go into a different direction that night? The longest night of the year.

When Lucien walked into the family dining room moments later he was already highly expected by —who would have guessed— one of his newly found friends, the Lord General of the Night Court armies, Cassian. Clapping his hand on the table and then waving Lucien over, Cass hollered, “Come here, you clever fox. Saved that seat for you.”

Lucien had to admit that out of all the people present, safe for Elain, he liked Cassian the most. He had become his friend quite easily, they shared a lot of interests and always found something to talk about. That was, Lucien thought, quite a relief. Since having befriended Cassian, coming to the Night Court had become less awkward, now he had someone else to talk to when Feyre did not have time. 

Happy and excited chatter filled the room while food got handed out. Lucien was rather hesitant with scooping foot onto his plate so Cassian took it into his hand to fill the emissary‘s plate with enough food. 

Everyone was enjoying the different dishes, praising the cooks —Nuala, Cerridwen and Elain— and engaging in talks about everything and anything. 

“I was thinking about going to the continent for a while,” Lucien said and drew Cassian’s attention to him.

“The continent?” Cass asked with raised brows and Lucien bowed his head.

“Why? Why now? Why at all? The continent is fucking far away?!” Cassian exclaimed and a crease on his forehead appeared.

Lucien shrugged one shoulder and scooped up a spoonful of potatoes, but then placed it down again.

 “She likes you. So if it is just because of Elain, then don't do it. It would be foolish. Actually you two are foolish. Well, blind fools is what you are.” The Illyrian general had to chortle when he finished his sentence. Lucien didn’t really feel like laughing, what Cassian had said already occupying his mind. Elain liked him. He had had an inkling that she started to feel more comfortable around him, but Cassian…Cassian probably had more insight being mated to Elain’s older sister. Lucien’s chest warmed when a small smile tugged on his lips and a kernel of hope bloomed in his chest.

It vanished just a second later. 

The emissary lifted his gaze, his food mostly untouched on his plate, and looked over to where Elain sat. She was already looking at him, her eyes sad, her demeanour somber. Lucien swallowed thickly when Elain quickly averted her gaze. She looked at Mor, then at Azriel and lastly at Feyre, forcing a smile to her lips. It was her sister’s birthday, she had to try to act happy at least.

Lucien saw that Elain’s smile did not reach her eyes and he hated that he apperently was the reason for her sadness. He had always been the reason for her discomfort but now…now she was sad because of him. That hurt even more. 

She should have just given him a chance to explain and not immediately run off.

“Elain,” Lucien said, his mouth acting quicker than his brain. The female’s gaze snapped to him, her fawn eyes wide open while she parted her lips.

Feyre stopped mid-sentence, focusing on Lucien and what he was about to say. Lucien hated that. Hated that everyone always seemed so very invested in their relationship. Yes, Elain was Feyre’s sister, but it was Elain’s damn life and she did not always need surveillance from her older sister.

“Could you pass me the salt please?” 

A crease appeared on Elain’s forehead, but quickly her hand reached forward and without a word being spoken she handed Lucien the salt. Then without giving Lucien another glance she turned back to Mor. One could cut the tension with a knife, it somehow uncomfortable for everyone present. Nesta cleared her throat, it being obvious on her face that she searched for something she could say to interrupt the excruciating silence. 

“Jurian,” she croaked and cleared her throat again. “Jurian, how is our once-human, once eye-ball-in-a-ring doing?”

Her question drew a small chuckle from Cassian, both his and his mate’s gaze moving to the Night Court emissary.

Lucien wiped his hands clean on his napkin and lifted his gaze. “Fine. He and Vassa are—” Constantly doing it on every surface and not only once had the Autumn Court male walked in on them.

Lucien would obviously not say that, but—

It was then that Nyx started making grabby hands at his favourite uncle. “Lulu. Lu. Lu. Lulu,” the tiny Illyrian boy blabbered, tears already filling his eyes. Feyre acted quickly, standing, scooping her little boy up and handing him to Lucien who already welcomed him with a big grin and open arms. “Hey, you tiny bat. Missed me already, huh?”

Nyx seemed content about sitting down on his uncle’s lap, giggling happily and grabbing his favourite dragon toy that Azriel handed him. 

“Lulu,” Nyx giggled, poking his chest and then fully focused on the toy in his hands.

Lucien’s hand brushed over the little boy’s head before he turned his attention back to Cassian. 

“Where were we? Ah, right Vassa and Jurian. They are very close now. Engaged actually,” Lucien said with a small smile on his lips. It must have either been little Nyx, the name Vassa from Lucien’s lips or the word engaged that drew Elain’s attention to their conversation and she glimpsed at her mate over the edge of her glass. She did not drink though, she watched and listened. And gods, if Lucien interacting with his little nephew wasn’t the most adorable thing in this entire world she did not know what would be. And his smile. Lucien’s smile always knocked the breath from her lungs. Elain knew that it could light up the darkest night, even the Hewn City and…her life. 

The glass still tipped to her lips, her eyes on her mate, she continued to listen. Ugh, Elain thought, did Lucien have to talk so much about Vassa, the beautiful and stunning human queen?

“The firebird has our former general quite wrapped around her finger, huh?” Cassian chuckled.

“Absolutely, he is so enamoured by her.” Are you enamoured…by me? Elain thought. Could people say the same about them?

“Are you inhaling your drink, girl?” 

Elain choked on a breath that made her blow air into her drink. The liquid went over the edge the class in one sweep, onto the table and even up into Elain’s face.

“Shit,” the middle Archeron sister cursed under her breath. Had she just cursed? Gods, had his always so formal and well-mannered mate just cursed? 

Lucien couldn’t avoid the tiny, happy grin that spread over his face, neither could his heart which made a happy, little leap. Elain looked adorable, flecks of red now covering her face. 

Nyx giggle loudly and pointed his tiny index finger at his aunt. “El, El!” he cackled.

Lucien tried to calm him, his thumb swiping over the little boy’s cheek. Her cheeks turning a deep crimson red, Elain lifted her gaze. Lucien was already looking at her, his eyes soft and warm, not mocking her that she had just spilt the wine all over the table and even on her. He smiled and Elain…Elain returned it before pushing her chair back and getting up. “I’ll get cleaned up,” she said, hastily running out of the room.

Elain only returned some time later when everyone had already sat down in the family living room for present giving. Nyx still wouldn’t let go of his favourite uncle and so the fiery male sat on the floor with the Night Court’s heir on his lap. And Elain, she sat down on the couch close to them.

“First one!” Mor cheered happily, jumped up and brought her present over to Rhysand. And so it continued, presents were handed out. Lucien was helping Nyx unpack a present from Nesta, Elain watching them, grinning. 

Only Cassian’s low rumble of laughter made her turn. She looked away, leaning back onto the couch and crossed her arms over her chest.

Every present had been handed out at some point later, chatter and laughter started once again and—

Lucien hadn‘t brought her one?

Elain acted like she did not noticed or mind. She smiled between her sister, acting all cheery and joyful. Inside of her, her heart crumbled.

Lucien was still sitting on the floor talking to Mor while both of them played with Nyx. He hadn‘t brought her a present. But honestly it made so much sense—why should he bring her one?

Elain had never gifted him anything. Why should he continue to gift her something? 

That year Elain actually had a gift for him —the cookies— but Lucien didn‘t want them. It was all so—

“Elain?“ 

The female in question snapped her head to the side, eyes full of hope and with  anticipation bubbling inside of her, she looked at her mate.

“I think Amren has overlooked your present. It is still—“ Lucien wiggled his arm free from Nyx‘s hold and pointed to the back of the couch, “there somewhere.“

Nodding frantically, Elain grinned at her mate and jumped to her feet. She made a bee-line for the other side of the couch, the deep rumble of her mate following her. Her toes once again curled—ugh, his voice…

Amren had probably not overlooked her present but had rather not been able to lift it and ignored it on purpose. Because, gods, Elain‘s present was huge.

She spun around, searching Lucien‘s gaze across the room. He was already looking at her, eyes glowing brightly. Lucien placed Nyx down, making him sit next to Mor and got up. He strolled over to his mate who already started tugging on a ribbon.

“That is for me?“ Elain gasped. She no longer would hide her excitement.

“Yes,“ Lucien smiled, “It is not much, but I hope you like it.“

The wrapping gone, four pots, flowerpots, of different sizes and decorated with the most beautiful designs ELain had ever seen where revealed to them. Elain lifted one out of the box and grinned from on ear to the other.

“Stunning,“ she breathed. “Thank you so much. How? Where?“

“A friend of mine from the Dawn Court made them. A tinkerer,“ the emissary explained and smiled. His chest exploded with euphoria—Elain was grinning and she loved the present.

It was just when Elain wanted to say that her present had actually been the self-made baked goods, that Rhysand clinked a fork against his glass. 

“Feyre, Nyx and I are leaving for the cabin. We will enjoy some family time there,” he said. Azriel had already retired to his room some minutes ago, or wherever he snuck off to lately. Amren and Varian had soon followed suit and Mor and Emerie were also on the verge of leaving for Mor’s apartment. 

Cassian, Nesta, Elain and Lucien walked out onto the balcony to say goodbye to High Lord and Lady and their son. The departure was quick and so was Cassian and Nesta’s announcement of also heading upstairs. 

The four of them entered the living room together, Cass and Nesta pivoting towards the staircase immediately.

“You do as you wish, little fox. A room is prepared for you, but I assume you rather stay down here a little longer.” Cassian winked at Lucien over his shoulder before scooping Nesta up in his arms and carrying her outside, disappearing.

Elain stood by the fireplace, fumbling with the hems of her dress, her gaze jumping between the pile of wrapping papers and her mate. 

Once again the breath got knocked from Lucien’s lungs – a halo of light from the fireplace surrounded Elain's figure, her skin glowing, her eyes shining. His heart skipped a beat when a small smile spread over her face and she parted her lips. “Seems like we are the only ones left,” Elain whispered when she met her mate’s gaze. 

Lucien shoved his hands into his pockets, moving closer to Elain. He smiled. “Seems like we are.”

“Tonight was…nice,” Elain breathed, her cheeks heating up. Her trembling fingers toyed with a ruffles of her dress. She had sat down on the couch. 

“Yes, it was. Nyx is adorable, isn’t he?” Lucien walked up to his mate, getting closer to her before sitting down as well. 

“I—“ “Why did-“ “You first!” “You—“

Both had to giggle at that. Lucien cleared his throat and dipped his chin. “You first, Elain.”

“Why did you eat none of my food tonight? The cookies…they were my Solstice gift. Specifically made for you.”

A small crack appeared in Lucien’s heart, his lips forming a pout. “Elain, I—”

“Is it because of my behaviour in the past years?”

Lucien just had to get closer, to touch her, to convince her that that was not at all it. The fiery male moved closer to her and tugged a loose strand of hair behind Elain’s pointy ear, his eyes not for once leaving his mate’s.

"When a female offers the male food it means they accept the bond, Elain. I couldn’t let this happen without you knowing it. I had to tell you first, I could not just eat and tell you afterwards," Lucien explained, nothing but sincerity in his voice.

“Oh, so thoughtful,” Elain whispered, almost getting lost in her mate’s eyes. Her heart was pounding in her throat, her chest warming at Lucien’s kindness, his thoughtfulness. 

"But do you want it? Do you want to accept it?"

Elain could hear it —feel it, how Lucien’s heart sped up, skipping one or the other beat.

"Your food?" he sheepishly asked when colour once again filled his tanned cheek. He truly was the most beautiful male in this world, Elain thought to herself and smiled.

"The bond," she said and although her hands felt shaky, her voice came out strong and steady. "The mating bond with me."

Lucien smiled and for a moment looked past Elain at the opposite wall. The fireplace casted a soft, red-ish light over the walls of the living room. It reminded Lucien of the Autumn Court, but before he could let himself think further about it he looked back at his mate. "Take a guess," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Elain let a breath she hadn’t realised she had been holding in escape and swallowed thickly. Her eyes of brown met one of russet and one of metal, locking. She felt her lower lip tremble when she parted her mouth.

"I would hope so. But—" She cut herself off, swallowing again. "But after all my ignorance towards you, towards this bond, I would understand it if you said no."

The words hurt, cutting into her heart and making tears burn behind her eyes.

It was Lucien who fully closed the distance between them. He leaned downwards, softly brushing his lips over Elain’s forehead. He placed his hands on her shoulders, fingers slightly curling around her soft neck, their eyes locking once again.

"One thing that has to be completely clear for you, Elain, is that not once have I blamed you for your…ignorance. It hurt me of course, but I was never angry. I understood you, still do. I couldn’t believe the whole bond myself and you—you haven’t even been fae," Lucien said, "It must have been so hard for you."

His arms wrapped around his mate’s shoulders, bringing her in for a hug that Elain gladly welcomed, her own arms curling around her mate’s broad torso. She leaned her cheek against his shoulder, marvelling into his beguiling scent—herbs, rich and lush spices, his smell so woodsy, earthy and musky. It was perfect.

Their desire stretched out, making it impossible to breath when they left their embrace. Looking deeply into each other’s eyes, they were inhaling the same air, their hands still touching, heat from one body merging with the other’s. 

Lucien drew in a deep breath, eyes scanning his beautiful mate’s face. Elain gave his hands a tiny squeeze, pulling Lucien just an inch closer. The Autumn Court male leaned into his mate, drawing in her scent of honey and jasmine. He smiled to himself, their noses nearly touching, lips only mere inches apart.

"Allow me to kiss you, Elain Archeron," Lucien asked when Elain’s eyes fluttered shut. 

"Please," she answered with a breathy voice and was the one to close the distance between their mouths.

The first connection of their lips wasn’t just a brush, wasn’t just a peck, it was a kiss filled with love and understanding and the promise of something more. Something deeper. The kiss carried along the promise of a future together, a mating bond stronger than anything and mutual acceptance and appreciation. 

It started soft and gentle, Lucien’s tongue carefully easing Elain’s lips apart, tasting her mouth, exploring. The Archeron sister sighed into the kiss, marvelling into the warmth of her mate, his scent, the feel of his body under her hands. Her hands that slowly, almost teasingly, stroked up his chest before coming to a rest on his shoulders. It was Elain who deepened the kiss, sliding forward on the couch and onto her mate’s lap. She needed more of his touch, she needed to be closer, she needed…Lucien.

Pulling her closer my her hips, Lucien placed one hand on Elain’s neck, his thumb stroking over her jaw. Breathless, he pulled back, his forehead resting against Elain’s, his hot breath tickling her skin.

"You are…" Lucien breathed. Through heavy-lidded eyes he glimpsed at his mate who wore an expectant look, her fawn eyes glowing brightly.

"I am?" Elain whispered. She leaned forward and nipped on the emissary’s lower lip.

"Magnificent," Lucien grinned. "Absolutely magnificent. Breathtaking and stunning. I should have told you that before."

"Why didn’t you? Didn’t think of you to be the shy kind of type,” Elain teased, wiggling her hips slightly. And gods, Lucien loved the feel of it. But what he loved even more was that side of Elain. Not the shy and reserved Elain, but the happy, bubbly, taunting Elain.

The emissary pecked the corner of her mouth and breathed a chuckle. "I wanted to wait for the right moment. When we are alone," he purred, the tenor of his voice making Elain’s toes curl in her wool socks. Something tightened in her lower belly at how he had said 'when were a alone'.

"What else could we do when are alone?"

A smirk appeared on Lucien’s lips. His thumbs were then brushing her wrists. 

"What are you thinking about, my lady?" the red haired male drawled and leaned back. Amusement laced his insides when Elain blushed, fighting a grin that threatened to spread all over her face.

"What are you thinking about, my lord?"

A groan of approval at the title Elain had just given him left Lucien. Yeah, he liked the sound of it, how Elain sounded when saying it—it had just been on the edge of breathy, like a whisper.

“Oh, there are many things I think about," Lucien hummed and moved his mate closer to him. Elain squirmed. The hardness pressing against her core told her exactly what her mate was thinking about. Thank the gods it was exactly what she had been thinking about. But still, she wanted to hear him say it. She wanted to know if the always so polite and well-mannered Lucien Vanserra could talk dirty. She had never heard a male talk in that way, only ever read it in books, in Nesta’s books.

"Like what?" she hummed, her hands finding their place on Lucien’s chest, toying with a button and then opening it. Lucien must have discarded of his beautiful jacket at some point before.

The emissary smirked when Elain opened yet another button and then another, tentatively revealing more and more of his golden brown chest and the fine dusting of red hair.

"You really want know? Every little detail I think about when it comes to you?" Lucien purred, kissing his mate’s pointed ear. His damp lips brushed her lobe when he continued and whispered, "Even if those are dirty maybe even quite filthy things?"

Especially those things, Elain thought. Well, no—she had said it out loud which made a whole-hearted laugh leave her mate. His whole body shook, bouncing Elain slightly on his lap but quickly catching her and bringing her close again. His hands slid up her thighs, pushing her dress slightly up and making it pool around her hips. Elain didn’t seem to mind.

"Well, if you are so eager to find out I could just show you."

Elain giggled, her heart beating in her throat. She knew what was about to happen. Her mate would claim her, make her his. From that moment on they would be each other’s. She would fully bare herself to the glorious male whose lap she sat on. Not only physically but also emotionally.

"Show me then, Lord Lucien. I want this. I want you. And I am" —Elain drew in a deep breath, cupped her mate’s face in her hands, looked him deep in the eyes— "yours. Fully and completely yours. And you are mine, Lucien Vanserra.”

That statement, it did something to the Autumn Court male. Some primal power inside of him was unleashed, purely male pride set free. His lips met his mate’s in a hungry, almost ravishing kiss that made both sides gasp.

"Shouldn’t we go upstairs to your room?" Lucien asked, only momentarily breaking the kiss.

"No." Elain kissed her mate again. 

“There are still people in the house. They could catch us. It is the family living room."

Elain rolled her hips forward, Lucien hardness forming and impressive bulge in his breeches. He groaned and stopped the kiss to examine his mate.

"Unless that excites you? Does it…turn you on that we could get caught?" He smirked and watched his mate’s cheek turn a deep crimson red.

Lucien then flashed his mate an assuring smile that should tell her that it was completely fine and that he would never judge her for what would excite her. In all honesty, it excited him as well. The smile calmed Elain and she dipped her chin. Her hands moved up to Lucien's shoulder, she once again locked her gaze with his and parted her lips. 

“Let’s stay here,” she said, “But I would like to take this slow. Can we go slow?“

“Of course. I want to do it exactly the way you wish,” Lucien whispered. “We can also stop here. I would be perfectly fine with just holding you in my arms tonight and maybe a little bit more kissing.” A sheepish smile appeared on the female’s face and she gave her head a tiny shake. “No, no, I do want to continue, unless you don't want to?” “I do want to continue, Elain, but only if you want the same.” Lucien gave her hip an assuring squeeze, dipped his head and bumped his nose against hers.

“Tell me what you want, Elain. You lead the way, guide me, show me what you want, how you want me.” It was his voice, what he said, the tone of his soft command but also that he was letting her lead that made something tighten in her lower belly. Elain inhaled a deep breath, smiled and climbed off her mate’s lap. For a moment her eyes fell to the not at all small tent in his crotch and—Gods!

A low but whole-hearted laugh drew Elain’s attention back to her mate’s face. Her throat worked on a swallow. “I would like for you—for us to undress first. I would like for us to get to know the other person’s body first before we jump into it.” “Jump into what?” Lucien taunted and stood, straightening up to his full height. He was tall, towering over her, but it did not intimidate her, rather made her feel of safe and protected. “Tell me, Elain. I want to hear it.” 

Lucien’s hand that fell to her cheek made heat appear in every fiber of her body. His thumb stroked her cheek, his pupils slowly dilating.

“Before we jump…before we make love.”

Lucien’s smile was nothing but warm and sincere, not teasing or mocking that she had used make love instead of every other word that existed for it. She liked using the words make love, didn’t think them to be cheesy. Because making love was exactly what she had imagined her and Lucien would be doing. The words Nesta sometimes used when she talked about it seemed too crude, too vulgar, for her. Lucien didn’t seem to find make love cheesy as he said, “I cannot wait to make love to you—for us to make love. For me to worship your body, my lady.”

Lucien’s shirt was already fully unbuttoned so all Elain had to do was shove it over his shoulders and bare his broad, toned chest to her. She gasped silently at the stunning male standing in front of her. She had seen the Illyrian warriors —her brother’s in law— train but there bodies were nothing compared to the male standing in front of her. 

Lucien was all sculptured, beautiful muscles, yet with still some softer spots that Elain realised she preferred much more over the solely toned abs of the Illyrian warriors. The fine dusting of red hair added an extra bonus that Elain found herself marvelling into. Elain’s eyes then trailed over every inch of exposed skin, starting at Lucien’s big and warm hands she couldn’t wait to feel all over her skin. The way Elain looked at him did something to Lucien, to his heart, to his eyes. He blinked rapidly, focusing back on his mate, on her rose-coloured cheeks, how she bit her lip and how her hands formed fists at the side of her body.

Elain's eyes moved over his strong upper arms, realising that Lucien could probably pick her up with ease and she couldn’t wait for that. When her eyes finally landed on his eyes, no they made a stop at his lips first—those plump, full and soft lips— and then moved to his eyes Lucien was smirking at her, then grinned with brightly glowing eyes.

“Should I retrieve my lady a napkin. It seems she might be drooling?” Lucien drawled and had to laugh. 

“Dammit, Lucien!” Elain expressed and smacked a hand over mouth while her eyes went wide. The fiery male chortled and was the one to close the distance between their bodies. He embraced his mate in a hug, pulling her flush to his chest and kissed the top of her head. “I was just teasing you. But you looking at me like that…it does things to me.”

“What things?” Elain laced her face in innocence although Lucien could see the spark of mischief glowing in her eyes. She took her lower lip between her lips when Lucien pulled back from the embrace and took Elain’s hand into his. “You really want to know?” Elain bowed her head and nearly lost balance when Lucien tugged at her wrist. He pulled her hand forward, pressing her palm flush to his groin to show her that—

“That is what it does to me, Elain.” 

Elain, voluntarily or not, gave the growing bulge in his pants a tiny squeeze that made Lucien groan deep in his throat—the sound reverberating through Elain and making her toes curl. 

His hand tugged at her wrist once again. “We are taking it slowly, my sweet. You remember?”

For a split second Elain regretted making that request but when her gaze once again met Lucien’s she was reminded that it had been the right decision, that she first of all wanted to explore every part of him and then give herself fully to him. 

“Yes, slowly,” she whispered. 

She decided looking was no longer enough. She wanted to let her hands do the rest of the exploration. Elain’s fingers danced over Lucien’s skin just like they had done earlier with the dough. She brushed over the small scars on his chest, fingers stroking higher, up his neck, his cheek until she let them run over the scar over Lucien’s eye. "You are so beautiful, Lucien. The most beautiful male I have ever seen,” Elain said, her voice breathy and soft like a whisper of leaves in the wind. 

Lucien loved her voice, how she said things, how she said his name. He shuddered against her touch, his heart speeding up while his hand took hers into his once again. He brought it to his mouth and kissed her palm. 

"May I?" the Autumn Court male asked when his other hand fell to the strap of her dress. Elain blinked once and dipped her chin. She threw her hair over shoulders and craned her neck to give Lucien access to her dress. His callused but slender fingers hooked under the straps and he pulled them over her shoulders, down her arms. The gown became a pool of green around Elain’s feet, the female now standing in front of him in just her dark green, satin undergarment. The dress hadn’t required a bra so Elain hadn’t donned one.

Elain's mate was lost in that moment. Lucien didn’t want to ogle her naked body—her breasts— like that but he found himself unable to look anywhere else. Luciens mouth fell open, his throat working on a swallow. 

"Breathtaking, cruel beauty," he said, more to himself but it made Elain grin from one ear to the other. Lucien stepped forward, hands falling to her hips and he pulled her to him. His lips found hers yet again in a longing, passionate kiss.

For Elain the kiss ended way too quickly, but Lucien wasn’t done exploring then. His hands stroked up her sides. A shuddering breath left Elain when she arched into her mate’s touch. Her eyes fell shut the moment Lucien rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. It was that soft feminine moan that slipped through Elain’s lips that was Lucien’s undoing. She quickly bit down on her lip to keep her noises silent. But Lucien wasn’t too fond of that. 

His thumb tugged on her lip, freeing it before placing his lips on hers. He did not kiss her then, but he whispered, “Let me hear it. All of it. I want to hear how you feel—how I make you feel.”

Lucien’s hand slid to the back of her head, pressing Elain’s to his while their lips and teeth and tongues connected in a hungry, almost ravishing kiss. Hands clawed at the other’s body, still exploring and trying to bring the other one as close as possible. 

“Slower?” Lucien asked breathlessly when he pulled back. 

“It is perfect that way,” Elain spoke through already puffy lips, her breath coming out in soft pants. She wrapped the laces of Lucien’s breeches around her fingers, given him an asking look to which Lucien dipped his chin. So Elain pulled, slowly, almost tentatively, opening her mate’s pants. Finally open, they fell to his feet, his already rigid length springing free.

“Oh,” Elain breathed. It was all she could say. She had imagined him to big, but Lucien was…perfect. Beautiful. And hers. This glorious male who stood naked in front of her was hers. Her mate. 

“I already told you that you looking at me like that does things to me, Elain.” Lucien’s voice was close to a growl. He brought her close again and kissed her. Elain felt the press of his proud length against her lower belly, the only piece of fabric that hindered them from fully connecting, her undergarments. She wanted to slide them down her legs but her mate stopped her, removing her hands from where they were placed. “No. Please let me do that,” Lucien asked, a sheepish look plastering his face. He looked terribly adorable and in that moment Elain hoped that she had met Lucien when he was a teen. She knew she had fallen for him the moment she had laid eyes on him. 

“Do as you wish,” Elain giggled. Lucien didn’t have to be told twice. His lips found the soft skin of her neck, nibbling softly and drawing some soft sighs from his mate’s lips. Lucien’s lips coasted lower, licking over her collar bone, down her cleavage until they closed around her hard nipple. Lucien crouched down, tongue swirling around the pebbled skin of her breasts, teeth softly adding another sort of pleasure that Elain hadn’t known about until then. 

Elain’s hand found its place in Lucien’s silken strands, curling them around her fingers, tugging softly and freeing them from the leather strap that held them back. The hands of her mate on the other hand slide around her slim waist to her backside, into her undergarments. He gave her rear a little two-handed squeeze that made Elain squirm, then giggle. Lucien was kneading her butt, his lips and tongue still occupied with her breasts. Elain arched into him, marveling into her mate’s touch and how good he already made her feel. He was all heat and passion, yet it was all soft and gentle, nothing rushed or rough. It was just like how the Archeron sister had imagined it—only ten times better. 

Elain nearly came at the sight of her mate kneeling down in front of her, spreading her legs and finally pulling her underwear down her legs. He guided her out of the pool of her dress and the underwear, bringing her closer to his body.

He was kneeling. Right in front of her, naked, the fireplace softly cracking behind his back. The fire casted a soft halo around Lucien and he truly looked like a god in that very moment. A god of passion, of fire, of desire. 

Hands danced over her lower legs, over her thighs. Lucien was looking at her sex, smiling to himself at the wetness already gathered there. “Yes?” he asked, once again wanting to have his mate’s consent.

“Yes!” Elain said, her voice trembling. Anticipation bubbled inside of her. It would finally happen and gods! She had no experience in that sort of matter. She had read about it in books and now she wondered if she should have prepared herself in any way? But what way? It was like Lucien could read her mind. He tipped his head back and met her gaze. “You are stunning, Elain Archeron. Now leave your mind and focus on us and this moment.” 

With that compliment Lucien placed his lips right above Elain’s knee, his tongue poking out and licking over her sweet skin. The next moments became a blur of heat, fire, passion and lust. Two slender, callused fingers parted her hot flesh, inserting one and then a second finger. Lucien hooked his hand under Elain’s knee pit und lifted her leg over his shoulder, giving him better access. 

“I had been waiting for so long to taste you,” he hummed and then did exactly that. Lips first and then his tongue made contact with her core. Lucien did not only taste her, he savoured, devoured and feasted on his mate like he had been starving for centuries. He knew exactly what to do, how to do it. How to swipe his tongue through her sliken folds, how to use his thumb to add extra pleasure from pressing down on the bundle of nerves, teasing and rubbing. What he was doing was more than Elain’s imagination had ever been capable of. She tumbled onto her mate, trying to steady herself with holding onto him. Her knees felt wobbly, she felt weightless, entering a delirious state of ecstasy and pleasure. Elain threw her head back, nails digging into Lucien’s shoulder when she came with a lewd cried that was mix of curses and her mate’s name. 

Her knees buckled, threatening to give as Lucien guided her through her height, his mouth still occupied with her sex, softly licking broad strokes and nibbling on her clit, kissing her, one arm curled around her rear. “Oh gods!” Elain exclaimed when she toppled over, following forward but Lucien caught her, his arm wrapping tighter around her rear the other holding her thigh. He leaned backwards, looking up at his fully disheveled mate. Elain’s face was flushed, damp strands of hair curling around it. She had her lips parted, eyes squeezed shut and Lucien knew that he had never seen anything that beautiful, so divine. “Stunning,” he breathed and kissed his mate’s lower belly. 

Tumbling slightly, Elain managed to blink her eyes open and look at her mate. Lucien was still looking at her, smiling.

“Perfect. This was perfect,” the Archeron sister mumbled. She lifted one hand from where she was still holding onto her mate and wiped the back of it over her face. Lucien in the mean time licked over his lips and groaned. Only then did Elain realise that his lips were swollen, his face damp with…her arousal, her release. 

“I have never….you taste divine, my lady. Like the only thing I need for the rest of my life.”

Lucien tugged at his mate’s wrist while sitting down onto the carpet. Elain understood the silent command, lowering herself to her mate, sitting down on his lap. “I am in love with you, Lucien. I realised it during Summer Solstice that year. And I finally have the courage to tell you,” Elain whispered, her breath tickling Lucien’s lips before she pecked the corner of his mouth.

“Half a year?” Lucien mumbled and kissed his mate’s nose. “I am sorry,” Elain answered, leaning down and nipping on her mate’s neck, savouring the sweaty and slightly salty taste of him.

“Don’t apologise.” Groaning from somewhere deep in his throat Lucien tipped his head back when Elain took the skin of his neck between her teeth, suckling. Her hand travelled between their bodies, moving over her mate’s length, thumb brushing the tip where a bead of liquid had already built up.

“You still have the reigns in your hand, Elain. Guide us, show me how you want me.”

Elain’s heart swelled at that, damp heat once again pooling in her core. She shuddered slightly, lifting her hips and positioning her mate against her tight heat. 

Carefully she let herself think down, easing just the tip into her. “Easy,” Lucien drawled and nipped at his mate’s earlobe. Elain exhaled a loud breath, letting herself sink further down on his lenght. 

Both parties gasped at this first connection, Elain’s eyes falling shut, Lucien’s eyes rolling back in his head. “Gods, Elain,” he growled, fisting her hips. “You are my end.”

Slowly and carefully Lucien slid fully into her, stretching her walls, filling her so perfectly, his body becoming flush with his mate. 

Elain cried out in pleasure, hands sliding around Lucien’s neck, fisting his hair, his head, his skin. She clawed at him, moaning at the delight that overcame her.

Burying himself to the hilt, Lucien leaned into Elain’s ear, taking the lobe between his teeth, tugging. “You are perfect. So tight. So wet. So perfect,” he drawled, moving his hips up, thrusting even deeper into his mate. “I am in love with you as well. I love you, Elain Archeron.”

All restraints gone and their desire fully unleashed they came together, became one, bodies moving in perfect sync just like their lips. It was a mingle of tongues, hands roaming the other’s body, damp skin slapping against damp skin. 

There was no talking, there was just love making. Just like Elain had imagined it and maybe twenty times better. Her breasts brushed against Lucien’s chest, her nipples finding stimulation by rubbing against the dusting of hair on his chest. Lucien’s thrusts were slow and deep, making his mate feel every glorious inch of him. Capturing her breast between his lips once again he added a bit of pleasure, bringing his mate closer and closer to the edge. But Elain wasn’t the only getting closer. His stomach flexed, his length twitching inside of Elain, throbbing. But there was this rule, this rule he had made for himself: Elain had to come first. He once again had to bring her her pleasure first. Elain was his priority—always.

Technically, Lucien wanted for Elain to come with him. He angled his hips to hit that one spot inside of Elain with every rut, his hand once again finding her clit and giving her last the push over the edge. Elain’s panting increased, her moans rising a pitch when Lucien felt her clench around him. He cursed lowly, his fingertips digging into the soft flesh of Elain’s hips.

“Look at me. Elain, look at me,” Lucien panted. “I need to see the pretty look on your face when you come.” 

With a lewd cry leaving her, Elain’s eyes open, her heavy-lidded gaze meeting her mate’s.

“So perfect. Come for me, Elain. Let go.” 

Elain’s climax was overwhelming, rough and hard, crashing into her like a storm, washing over her like tidal waves, sweeping her under, lifting her up, making her feel weightless. Her soul left her body the moment her lips parted with a loud sob of pleasure. 

“In me,” Elain brought out through clenched teeth, riding out her height, bouncing on her mate’s hips, him still buried deep inside of her.

Lucien who had needed every restraint in himself to hold back did not have to be told twice and could finally let go, his release spurting against Elain’s walls. Their hips still sloppily grinding against each other, they rode out their heights together. Also their lips once again met in a sloppy kiss that ended way too soon, breathlessness being the reason for it. Air wheezed in out of both their lungs, slowly coming down from their climaxes. 

“Gods, you…” Lucien breathed when he slowly helped Elain lift her hips and eased out of her. Elain breathlessly fell forward to her mate’s chest, limbs feeling numb and tingly, her chest heaving rapidly, her body still trembling.

Her lips still parted, Elain pressed her cheek against her mate’s damp chest. “No. Gods, you!” 

It took them a good twenty minutes to fully regain their energy and catch their breaths. Elain was the first to pull away, grinning at her mate with a fully toothy grin. “There is one thing we still need to do,” Elain said and climbed of her mate’s lap. She picked up a blanket from the couch, wrapped it around her body when straightening up. For a moment her knees buckled, the slight sting between her thighs making her feel hot and flustered all over again. But she had to do that now. Confusion laced Lucien’s insides when Elain made a turn and headed for the kitchen. There was one last thing that had to be done to fully seal this bond, to make that night —the longest night of the year— even more perfect.

Offer food to her mate!

Elain, only with the blanket wrapped around her, returned to the living room. She grinned at Lucien when she went onto her knees. Sitting back on her heels, Elain opened her hand and reached it forward. “Lord Lucien, do you want to accept the bond with me?”

“Gods, yes!” Lucien said with a full toothy grin. Elain lifted her hand, placing the cookie mere inches from his lips. Lucien’s tongue poked out and he licked the baked good. Something in Elain’s lower belly tightened at that. Memories of what that tongue was capable of and had done earlier, the pleasure it had brought her, flooded her mind. She sucked in a deep breath when she Lucien’s lips closed over the cookie.

Magic zapped between the couple, golden threads stretching out, swirling and connecting their souls. Their breathing came in soft pants when their faces started to glow, grins filling their faces. It was warm and it passion. It was fire and heat. Joy and happiness. It was perfection. Perfection in that very moment with just the two of them. Souls that had been yearning for each other finally connected, finally one.

Elain had found her equal. Lucien had found his. 

The emissary tugged Elain to his chest when the lay down on the couch later, a blanket draped over their bodies.

“This was the best Solstice in my whole entire life,” Lucien whispered and kissed the top of Elain's head. 

“It truly was,” Elain quipped and tipped her head back to look at her mate. “I love you, Lord Lucien.” “And I love you, Lady Elain. Until the very last day of our immortal life.”

........................................

Dear @iambutmortal 💛

I wish you the most wonderful Christmas. It was a true delight to be your Secret Santa. I loved and enjoyed reading your answers so much. You think about so many things the same way I do which was so lovely to see. I felt so lucky and happy when I saw that I got paired with you!!💛

"No! You start with the core flowers in the middle and build the bouquet around it." the lady growled, "We have been at this for an hour! How do you not know this after running this place for two years?" 

The guy visibly bristled, "The arrangement was for you to manage the front-end operations so we, as I quote, do not fuck up your flowers ." 

Having decided she had listened enough, Elain lightly cleared her throat to draw their attention. The pair stared at her with wide eyes for one comically long moment. 

The female was the first to recover, "Hi, welcome! Sorry about the mess, two of our staff decided to go on a two week-long trip of self enlightenment to discover themselves together and left us with minimal help with no notice." she paused, realising she was going off tangent and cleared her throat, "Anyway, how may I help you?"

Elain gave a polite smile, "I'm here to pick up an order for Feyre Archeron?" 

The shopkeeper's eyes lit up in recognition, "Yes, the midnight blue hydrangea and white rose mix!" she looked to the back of the shop and gave an apologetic look, "I just need to do some final touches. Would you mind just waiting a couple of minutes?" 

At Elain's reassurance, the redheaded lady disappeared behind the counter, leaving her co-worker in the middle of the sea of floral debris. The male heaved a sigh as he made to pick up the mess, stalks of flowers still in his hand still grumbling under his breath. Elain hid a smile.

"It's all about the grip on the core flowers and tying them together as you go" Elain piped up. The guy looked up with a bemused look on his face.

"If I may," Elain added before picking up a couple of stray roses and swiftly arranged them into a tightly knitted heart. She snapped a rubber band over the stems and continued, "Layering the flowers doesn't just mean circling on more and more flowers." 

She picked a stalk of baby's breath and weaved it through and around the roses. She toyed with the budding bouquet, adding more baby's breath and Caspia, sharing her train of thought as she went along. Elain flashed the guy an encouraging smile and handed over the semi-completed bouquet.

"Sorry for the wait," The lady came back to the front of the store holding a large but beautiful bouquet. She immediately zeroed in on the flowers in her colleague's hand and whistled, "Wow, did you do that? It's gorgeous."

Elain blushed at the compliment as she took the bouquet, "Oh, it's nothing. Your bouquets are stunning!" 

The florist brightened at the compliment, "That's great to hear! But seriously, are you by any chance free to work part-time for the next two weeks?" she asked, only half jokingly. 

Elain looked up from the bouquet in surprise, "Really?" 

The florist pondered for a moment before taking the half completed bouquet and handed it back to Elain, "Finish it." 

Elain reached for the flowers and gave it an appraising look. With a well-practiced ease, she untied the rubber band and adjusted the structure slightly. She soon passed back the finished product - a rustic, countryside rose bouquet complemented by Caspia and cotton flowers, and finished with eucalyptus leaves.

"You've done this before." the florist commented as she thumbed through the bouquet.

"I ran a small online service during my undergrad days but I stopped after graduation when work got hectic" Elain admitted, "But I'm currently on a study break for my post grad studies." 

The lady grinned and stuck out her hand, "Well, if you would have us for the next two weeks, I'm Vassa and grumpy pants over there is Lucien. Your temporary visa to the band of exiles has been approved. Welcome onboard." 

Elain returned the grin as she shook on it.

***

Elain adjusted her lilac blouse and dark pants before entering the store. Lucien's email stated nothing about a dress code but smart casual was always the way to go. 

"Good morning" she greeted Vassa as she entered and placed a small box on the counter, "I brought double chocolate muffins." 

"Ooooh, is that from the bakery down by ninth avenue?" Vassa asked, peeking into the box. "Buying favour with sweet treats, I see. I like the way you think, Archeron." 

Elain beamed in return. Vassa took her through the store's operations as she munched through a muffin. Elain quickly learnt that the store was mainly run by Vassa, Lucien and another of their partner, Jurian. Jurian and Lucien managed the back-end operations from logistics to accounts and social media engagement, leaving Vassa focused on designing and crafting beautiful flower arrangements.

It was well into the afternoon as Elain peered into the iPad to start on her next creation, a cheerful sunflower table piece. After ascertaining her abilities to recreate the bouquet designs, Vassa had passed the ropes to Elain to finish up the orders while she worked on the design of the floral arches they had been commissioned for. 

Lucien stepped out from the back office with a camera, declaring "I need new behind the scenes content for our social media platforms.".

Vassa shook her head from behind an exceedingly complicated archway, "It's going to take me quite a while with this." she paused, "Unless Elain doesn't mind?"

Elain looked up from her work counter, "What do I need to do?" 

"Just pretend he doesn't exist," Vassa reassured, her attention back to sticking more flowers into the archway, "The clips are mostly little snippets of us arranging the flowers. We wouldn’t include your face for privacy."

Elain nodded, uncertain but in agreement. She returned to her table piece, her movements now a little stiff and stilted. 

Lucien's expression turned thoughtful as Elain started on a new bouquet and suggested, "Why don't you walk me through your process."

Elain pondered for a moment and stared at the stalks of roses and rose sprays, "The starting point is to know the centerpiece of the arrangement." Her hands moved along to gather the mentioned flora. 

Lucien nodded in encouragement while he surreptitiously started the camera rolling. He kept the conversation going, peppering Elain with leading questions that had her relaxing back into her work.

"How did you get into flowers?" he asked as Elain carefully smoothed and folded the wrapping paper around the flowers.

"I always loved gardening. Using the spare flowers lying around to decorate the house seemed natural," she responded before sporting a wry smile, "I may have then gone down a spiral of endless how-to YouTube videos on floral arrangements." 

"Looking at your bouquets, I'd say that's time well-spent." Lucien said, hiding a smirk when Elain blushed. "Well, I think I got all I needed for the page. I'll send you a link to review the clips before we upload them." 

***

"You'll be ok running the storefront by yourself? Lucien will be able to deal with anyone problematic but feel free to contact me at any point." Vassa said apologetically as she loaded the final frame of the arches into the van. 

"We'll be fine," Elain assured, waving her off, "You just stay focused on the event." 

Elain let Vassa fret while they did a final check. Eventually, she huffed and all but pushed her into the front of the van where Jurian already had the engine running, giving the duo a final wave as they drove off. 

Lucien was loading a fresh shipment of flowers when she entered the shop, his arm muscles flexing and stretching the rolled up sleeves deliciously. Elain allowed herself one moment to appreciate the sight, her gaze settling on the back of his fitted pants which did nothing to hide that tight ass. There was no denying the attraction she felt towards her manager, the man was gorgeous. 

"It's just the both of us today, huh?" she remarked in what she hoped was a light unaffected tone.

"Yep." he replied, his lips popping the 'p', "I'll work from the counter instead of the office today."

Elain had the words to persuade him otherwise poised and ready but found herself flashing him a smile instead, "It'll be fun." 

Apart from a demanding customer's refusal to accept that their bouquet could not be delivered together with the pie from a cafe down the street, the day went by without a hitch. Elain had soon found herself deep in thought as she figured out how to close up as slow as humanly possible. 

"Would you like to grab dinner?" A distant voice sounded.

"Elain?" There was that voice again.

A hand waved over her face, snapping her out of her stupor. 

"Wha-?"

Lucien gave a bemused smile, "Would you like to grab dinner?" 

"S-sure" she stuttered, lifting her palms to relieve some of the warmth gathering in her face. "Where to?"

"Fancy a pie?" he asked, eyes twinkling in mischief. Elain laughed in agreement.

***

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes." A leering voice sneered. 

Elain hid a cringe and quickly schooled her expression and surveyed the guy next to her coolly. His drunkenness obvious from the flushed expression and putrid breath. Elain turned stiffly back to the display of pie selection, ignoring him. 

“Hey, I’m talking to you.” he snapped, his hand reaching to grab her arm. Elain instantly recoiled, her back hitting a firm chest.  

“Everything alright?” 

Elain internally sighed in relief at the familiar masculine voice. She scooted closer to Lucien, her body pressed against his body and said in a honey sweet voice, “Fine, babe.” 

Elain felt a strong arm circled around her waist, the grip light but firm. The muscle in Lucien’s jaw feathered as he took in the drunken man. 

“Do we have a problem?” he asked coolly, his chin tilted up as he leveled a threatening glare at the guy. 

“No.” the drunk finally spat out, throwing out a swear at them before turning to leave.

“You ok?” Lucien murmured into her ear, the gentle voice raising goosebumps down her spine, his arm still firmly closed around her waist. 

“I’m fine,” she gave a reassuring smile before commenting brightly, “More importantly, I have decided on a pie.” 

Lucien looked torn for a moment before a chuckle finally won out, “So have I.” 

As it happens, the pies were delicious. 

“Maybe you guys should consider partnering with them.” Elain later suggested when they were on the road, Lucien giving her a lift home. “You could package it as the perfect pick-me-up gift.” 

“The pies?” Lucien’s expression turned contemplative, “That is actually a really good idea.” 

“Actually?” she drawled, “Should I be insulted?”

 Lucien sputtered as he raised his hands, “It was a compliment!” 

Elain grinned, “I know. I was just messing with you.” 

“No wonder you get along so well with Vassa.” he grumbled as he pulled over at the roadside outside her apartment. She flashed a cheeky smile as she got off, thanking him for the ride. It was only after she entered her flat that she collapsed on the couch, raising her hands to close over her racing heart, willing it to settle. 

Her phone chimed as she was getting into bed. It was the link to the footage Lucien had edited for their Instagram page. Elain scrolled through the clips, admiring the editing. He had even managed to salvage the shots from the first bouquet, editing it in a stop motion-like style. 

Her phone dinged again.

The last couple of photographs are not intended for posting. I just thought they were too lovely to delete. - Lucien

Elain scrolled to the end in curiousity, gasping when she saw the photos. They were all pictures of her smiling and laughing. Through his lens, Elain never felt prettier. She clicked “save” to download before she set her phone down and drifted to wonderland, dreaming about large warm hands and russet eyes.  

***

“I should fire my staff and hire you instead.” Vassa sighed as she watched Elain pack up the little belongings she had accumulated over the past 2 weeks. 

“My school term resumes tomorrow.” Elain reminded her, giving her tote bag one last lookover. 

“Pshhh. Who needs a MBA when you can have unlimited flowers.” Vassa huffed. 

Elain gave her an unimpressed look, “Didn’t the three of you meet during your MBA programme?” 

Vassa turned to look away and said loftily, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”  

Elain hummed distractedly in response as she stared at the closed door of the office, acutely aware of the male sitting inside. Vassa followed her gaze and the edges of her mouth curled upwards, “But I guess it’s not flowers that would keep you around.” 

Elain flushed and muttered, “I don’t think he’s interested.” 

Vassa snorted loudly, asking after a long moment, “You can’t possibly think that.”  

Elain started to respond when her phone rang from an unknown number. Frowning, she stepped out of the shop. It turned out to be one of the vendors for Feyre’s wedding, calling to confirm the tasting schedule they had scheduled later in the day. Elain turned to return only to bump into a familiar chest. 

“Elain! I thought you’ve left.” Lucien called out, continuing when she simply blinked up at him, “You know, we are engaged to do the floral decoration for the Velarian wedding next month.”

She frowned, giving him a befuddled look, “Yes?” 

“The couple had extended the invitation for us to stay for the reception.” 

“O-kay?” 

“Would you like to be my date for the wedding?” he finished, and placed a bouquet and a box into her hands. 

Elain whipped her head up in surprise before asking incredulously, “Are you asking me to be your plus one for my sister’s wedding?” 

“Yes.” Lucien replied smoothly, “Yes, I am. Coupled with our latest offering - the Elain set.” 

Confused, Elain looked into the box - it was the blackberry pie she had the other evening. Her mouth widened into a smile, “The Elain set?” 

“It’s a pick-me-up package. Designed to cheer up anyone’s day” he added, pulling her in close, “Just as all Elains do.”     

“Is that right?” she asked breathily, staring deep into russet eyes, “What if I would like the Lucien package instead?” 

“That was supposed to be a later offering.” he teased, “But I guess you could have it now too.” And with that, he leaned in to capture her lips in a searing kiss.

Elain tries the key on the left of the keychain Nesta had given her, but while it slides in, the lock doesn’t turn. With a frustrated huff, she yanks the key back out. Just her luck, it seems, after the day she’s had. She adjusts her grip to switch to the key on the right when a sound from inside the apartment has her pausing. A giggle. Elain is confident that the last time she ever heard her older sister giggle was when they were both still girls, but there’s no mistaking the sound, nor the low, deep chuckle that follows.

Taking a deep breath and settling her expression into cool neutrality, Elain slides the correct key into the lock and opens the door. Nesta is perched on her kitchen counter, Cassian standing cradled between her thighs and leaning against his hands either side of her hip. The sound of the door has Nesta snapping her attention toward Elain, has her tugging the collar of her tee–or more likely, Cassian’s tee judging by the size–back up and over her shoulder.

“Hey, Elain,” Nesta greets easily, offering a small if not slightly embarrassed smile. “How was the bakery today?”

“It was fine,” Elain dismisses with a shrug, going over to where her bags live and crouching down to root through them aimlessly.

With her back turned, Elain is able to relax her face. She doesn’t have to worry about hiding her pinched lips and cool expression. It’s not that she isn’t happy for Nesta. She is, truly. Even if she’s still not fully sure where Cassian even came from, her sister’s boyfriend seeming to pop up one day and the two of them suddenly in love despite Nesta never mentioning him. Ever. But, it’s clear that her sister is happy, clear that Cassian loves her and respects her, clear that he’s exponentially better than Tomas Mandray ever was. But every time Elain sees the way Cassian looks at Nesta, sees the soft adoration shining in his eyes, it has her heart squeezing painfully between her ribs.

Graysen never looked at her like that.

Perhaps that should have clued her in sooner, should have been a sign of the messy end that was to come. She had just been so sure that Graysen was the one for her, that he was her true love, her soulmate, just like the princess books she read when she was little. But clearly that was an absurd notion, and all that love she held for him only led to her being blind. It only led to her coming home to their apartment and finding Graysen in their bed with his secretary.

The memories rushing back to the forefront of her mind has rage flaring back to life within her. It burns hot on the back of her tongue, sends sparks of red skittering through her veins, and Elain clenches her fists around the fabric in her hands. Fuck Graysen. Fuck him for disrespecting her like that. Fuck him for throwing away everything they had. Fuck him for having the nerve to kick her out of their apartment after what he did.

“Cassian made lasagna for dinner,” Nesta continues, unaware of Elain's tumbling thoughts.

“That’s alright. I have plans with Vassa,” Elain tells her, pulling out a simple sundress from her bag. “Just came back to change first.”

Before Nesta can say anything else, Elain scurries off to the bathroom. Her sister doesn’t need to know that it’s a lie, doesn’t need to know that she has zero interest in being an awkward third wheel. Again. As grateful as she is for Nesta allowing her to crash on her sofa until Elain figures out her own place, spending every night watching her sister and her boyfriend make obvious heart eyes that often lead to obvious heated stares at each other is not exactly Elain’s idea of fun.

Which is why Elain keeps up the pretense of plans with her best friend as she washes the flour from her hair and makes sure the strands fall in soft curls around her shoulders. Why she keeps up the pretense and changes into the sundress she grabbed. Why she keeps up the pretense and waves goodbye to Nesta and Cassian and walks right out the apartment even though she has nowhere to actually go.

The door closes with a soft snick behind Elain, and she lets out a quiet sigh. Now, she just needs actual evening plans. She supposes she could try one of the local bars down the road, but she doesn’t have an interest in listening to cheesy pick-up lines all night. She could text Vassa, maybe give some credibility to her lie, but then she’d just be trading in one third wheeling evening for another.

As Elain continues to contemplate her options, she hears the distinct ding of the elevator doors opening. Not wanting to be caught awkwardly in the hall by one of Nesta’s neighbors, Elain rushes away and pushes open the door to the stairwell, hiding out of sight. She presses her back against the wall and holds her breath, listening and waiting for any sounds out in the hallway. Voices coming from the stairwell just a floor below her have Elain scrambling up the stairs. She rushes up and up until the regular stairs end, until she reaches some sort of winding, rickety looking set of stairs.

Elain had almost forgotten that the apartment complex has roof access. She knew that Nesta was fond of spending time up there. Perhaps the roof could offer Elain the same escape. Testing the first step to make sure it’s actually steady and secure, Elain pads her way up to the large, metal door at the top. It takes a bit of force to get it to open, Elain having to practically throw her entire weight into it, but with a creak of the hinges, the door gives way, and she steps out into the evening air.

A quiet gasp tears its way free from Elain as she takes in her surroundings, the view. The city stretches out all around her, but it’s the sky that truly captures her attention. Streaks of pinks and purples through the clouds, the whole sky a golden orange hue as the sun sets. Elain’s feet are carrying her closer before she knows it, leaning against the western ledge to get a better look.

She reaches for her phone to take a photo, her arm brushing against something cold and hard. Elain looks to her left only to come face to face with a large gargoyle. She almost falls back on her ass as she jumps back and away in alarm. She’s not sure how she didn’t notice the gargoyle before. How she didn’t notice any of the gargoyles. Now that she really takes a look around the roof, she realizes there’s three. It seems odd to have an odd number, but perhaps it’s a lucky number?

Daring to step closer again, Elain takes a better look at the gargoyle facing the sunset. It seems to have some sort of strange carvings into the knees, and with the sun setting in front of it, the gargoyle’s face is cast in shadow in a way that’s almost unnerving. With a shudder, Elain turns away, focusing her attention on the other two gargoyles. The one facing south has large wings stretched behind its back that are just as unnerving, but the one facing east doesn’t look as ominous.

She walks over to the gargoyle and peers up at it, tilting her head as she admires the craftsmanship that must have gone into creating it. The gargoyle has been carved with almost a curtain of hair hanging down to the shoulders, and Elain realizes there’s horns too. She reaches her hand up, following the slightly ridged curve of them where they curl down toward the ears. Her fingers continue to trace a path to the face, to the lines that run like scars from eyebrow to cheek.

For a moment, Elain swears that she can hear a soft sigh on the wind, swears the stone almost seems to shudder beneath her touch. It has Elain snatching her hand back and cradling it to her chest. She spins back around to continue watching the sunset, but as the sun fades fully from view, the shadows and inky darkness of night start to creep in. Even with the full moon coming to life overhead, the darkness presses in from all around, leaving anxiety swirling in her gut.

Elain doesn’t know what it is, but it almost feels like there’s someone watching her, that she’s not alone. She wraps her arms around herself and tries to fight off a shiver, reminding herself that that thought is absurd, but she still can’t quite shake it. No matter what her rational mind says, her heart still ticks up between her ribs, the hairs on the back of her neck still stand on end.

She swears she feels the whisper of a touch along her arms, the warm presence of someone behind her, and Elain has officially had enough. She stomps toward the roof door and yanks it open, stepping back inside and into the safety of the apartment complex. She follows the steps down and down and down until she reaches the ground floor, putting as much distance between her and the roof, between that trepidation that had seized her, as possible.

She pushes out the backdoor of the complex and into the courtyard garden instead, taking in a deep breath of the sweet scent of begonias, of coreopsis and daisies. Now this is where she feels the most at home, the most comfortable. She follows the winding path deeper, toward the trees that mark the end of the courtyard and the property, and leans down to slide her fingers along the silky petals of the hydrangeas.

“My love.”

Elain jolts at the sound of a voice, at the strange nickname. She whirls around to find a man standing in the shadows just inside the tree line. He’s tall. Even from this distance, Elain can tell he must have over a head on her, and his eyes are pinned solely on her.

Elain has to swallow hard before she’s able to find her voice again. “Hello?”

The man steps forward, into the moonlight, and Elain realizes with a strike of fear that he’s not a man at all. He’s a monster. His fingers stretch down into points, into claws, and Elain notes the tail that swishes back and forth just behind his legs. Large, purple-ish horns curl up and over the deep, red strands of hair hanging around his face. He’s like something straight out of a storybook, out of a horror novel, and yet there’s something familiar about this monster, something that tugs and thrums deep within Elain’s chest and begs for attention.

Elain’s eyes dance over the monster’s face, taking in the different colored eyes. One russet and one golden. The long scars that run along the skin from eyebrow to cheek around that golden eye. It’s the scar that has Elain’s own eyes widening, realization crashing into her hard enough to steal the breath straight from her lungs.

“You’re the… the gargoyle. From the roof,” she whispers, barely believing her own words even as the truth stands right here before her very eyes.

“Yes,” the man confirms, daring to take a step closer. “I’ve waited a long time for my mate’s sweet scent to free me, and now, I will enjoy her sweet taste.”

Holy gods, he’s going to eat her. She came out here for some peace and quiet, an escape, and she’s going to be eaten by this monster.

Elain is still reeling from the fact that this is the gargoyle from the roof very much alive and standing in front of her that she doesn’t even realize he’s moved closer still until one of his arms is wrapping around her waist. Elain’s entire body freezes and locks up at that touch. His grip is strong, all but hauling her against his chest, and his skin is surprisingly warm despite him being literal stone before. For a moment, Elain swears she can hear his heartbeat thundering away, but maybe that’s just her own. With the claw resting at her waist, hand large enough to span the entire thing, the threat is clear. There’s no running.

The gargoyle leans in close, running his nose along her temple and seemingly breathing her in. He lets out a quiet sigh, grip tightening at her waist, and Elain starts trembling from head to toe.

“Please,” Elain begs, her voice barely above a whisper. “Please don’t eat me. I’ll do anything.”

He groans, his lips brushing along her temple and cheek. “Hearing you beg might be the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard. I can’t wait to hear you beg more, to hear you scream my name while you do it.”

Elain frowns at that. He wants her to scream out his name while begging him not to eat her? Clearly, this monster is some sort of masochist, takes some sort of sick pleasure in truly humiliating her before killing her. But still, Elain latches onto what she can. Maybe if she keeps him talking, he can’t do much devouring. Maybe, if she distracts him, he'll decide he doesn't want to eat her after all, or she can get away at least.

“And… and what is your name?” Elain asks, praying the waver in her voice isn’t too obvious.

“Lucien.”

“Lucien,” Elain repeats, causing the gargoyle to groan again. “That’s a nice name.”

“You're meant to tell me your name now.”

“Why would you need to know my name?”

Lucien pulls his face away from her hair at that, a frown tugging down his lips. His free hand reaches up toward her cheek, the tips of his claws just barely skating across her skin before her entire body tenses up, her head snapping away on instinct. The reaction just seems to confuse him more, eyebrows dipping low as he peers down at her.

“Why do you cower from me, my love?”

A near hysterical laugh bubbles up out of Elain before she can stop it. “Have you looked in a mirror recently?”

Lucien cocks his head, the red strands of his long hair tumbling over his shoulder. “Am I not pleasing to you?”

Elain rakes her eyes over Lucien's form, finally really taking him in, and well, she supposes there are worse ways to go. If she's going to be eaten by a monster, at least it's an attractive one. With no shirt to be seen, it leaves the expanse of golden bronzed skin on full display, the shadows of the night around them cutting into the lines of lean muscle that make up his arms and chest. His torn linen pants hang low on his hips and hug tight to his thighs, leaving little to the imagination in the best way. His hair falls in a cascading waterfall of red around his horns and face, framing a strong jawline, framing those golden and russet eyes. Even with the scars slashed across his skin, he's beautiful, and Elain's fingers itch with the urge to reach out and gently trace the lines until he's shuddering beneath her touch.

“You have not answered my question, my mate,” Lucien says, breaking Elain out of her staring.

“You keep saying that: my mate. I don't know what it means.”

Lucien leans in close again, pressing his lips to her cheek. “It means you are mine.” He moves to kiss her other cheek. “And I am yours.” He shifts again until his lips are hovering just over hers. “It means that you have freed me.”

“Oh…” Elain breathes, already pressing up onto her toes, already leaning into him, almost subconsciously.

“Tell me your name,” Lucien requests quietly, his breath a whisper across Elain's lips.

“Elain.”

“My mate. My love. My Elain.”

Maybe it's because no one has ever spoken of her like that, with so much reverence, like they really, truly mean it. Maybe it's because deep down she is still bitter and hurt by what Graysen did. Maybe it's because for a moment, Elain swears she feels something golden and strong wrapped right around her heart, tugging and urging her on. Whatever it is, Elain reaches her hands up, burying her fingers amongst the strands of his hair, and yanks until the space between them vanishes.

Elain's not sure what she expects kissing a gargoyle, but kissing Lucien sends heat skittering down down spine, her toes curling in her shoes. Lucien seems to radiate heat every place that he touches her, as though fire burns just beneath his skin and in his veins. And he kisses like it too. His lips slot and slide against her own, his tongue pressing past the seam and into her mouth. Even with his claws, he cradles her face so gently, bending forward to keep their lips firmly locked together despite the height difference.

Before Elain knows it, her back is pillowed amongst the grass and the dirt of the garden, Lucien settling above her. His hands trail across her shoulders, down her arms to her wrists, pinning her hands up above her head. He tears his mouth away from hers but only to press a line of kisses along her jaw and throat.

“Shouldn’t we… um… should…”

Elain’s words trail off as Lucien scrapes his teeth along her pulse point, any and all thoughts eddying out of her mind. Her entire body feels like it’s blazing, a familiar heat that’s been missing for longer than she cares to admit. Even before she and Graysen broke up, Elain wouldn’t say she had a lot of experience with passion with her ex-fiancé. But it’s hard to think of any other man when Lucien is sliding the strap of her sundress down and aside, the path of his lips moving down along her collarbone.

“Oh, gods,” Elain moans quietly, arching up against him as Lucien mouths hotly at the swell of her heaving breast.

The trail he’s tracing barely seems to pause, Lucien continuing down along her sternum, across her covered stomach. He slides down until his shoulders are cradled between her spread thighs, Elain pressing up onto her elbows to watch him. The sight has her breath catching in her throat. Lucien’s hair hangs around him like a fiery halo, a wild expression on his face, and in that moment, Elain swears she can see an actual flame sizzling in his gaze.

“Does this mean you're not going to eat me?”

The smirk Lucien settles her with is downright devilish. “Oh, Elain. I most definitely intend to eat you. I intend to have you falling apart on my tongue and my fingers until you're begging to fall apart on my cock.”

“Right,” Elain somehow squeaks out, swallowing hard. “But. We’re outside. In public. We should…”

But Elain doesn’t even know how to finish that sentence. They should what? Go upstairs to her older sister's apartment? She knows that Nesta has adventurous taste in romance books, she’s certainly seen some of the titles and covers on her sister’s shelf, but this feels like a step too far. Walking through the door with a literal monster in tow? Elain can already picture Nesta’s shocked face, and Elain has a creeping suspicion that someone of Cassian’s size would probably try to protect her, try to fight her gargoyle. Besides, where would they even go? Fuck on Nesta’s sofa?

“I cannot wait another moment for a taste of my sweet mate,” Lucien argues, his hands sliding up Elain’s thighs, pushing up the hem of her sundress with them until the fabric is bunched around her waist. He presses two fingers against her still clothed cunt, drawing a gasp out of Elain as he traces a line upwards. “Are you already wet for me, my love?”

Elain whines high in the back of her throat when Lucien starts to draw tantalizingly slow circles over her clit, bucking her hips up against his touch. “Lucien, please.”

“Did you need something?” Lucien asks lightly, his too innocent tone not fooling Elain for a second.

“Stop teasing.”

“Use your words, Elain. Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to keep your word,” Elain snaps with a huff. “What happened to not being able to wait another moment?”

Lucien’s smirk only seems to grow at the quip, something like excitement sparking in his gaze. Something like pride. His claws finally hook in the waistband of her panties, tugging the fabric down her legs and off. The clothing item is barely discarded before Lucien’s mouth is pressing along her inner thigh. His teeth nip at the skin as he traces up and up, heat curling in Elain’s gut as he gets closer to where she really wants him.

Elain opens her mouth, ready to complain about his teasing again, but any possible words are cut off with a loud moan when Lucien licks a thick stripe over her, tongue swirling on her clit when he reaches it. The vibrations of Lucien's answering groan against her has Elain’s hips bucking up to press closer to his mouth, but his hands curl around her thighs, claws digging in the barest hint and holding her still.

Graysen certainly had little interest in ever going down on her, and Elain had started to suspect that no man particularly enjoyed the act, but with the way Lucien devours her, she’s beginning to think perhaps she was wrong. With the way he keeps groaning against her, his hands flexing as he works his mouth over her, it seems like there’s nowhere else Lucien would rather be.

He keeps alternating his pace, what he’s doing. Slow, thick licks. Fucking and curling his tongue up into her. Swirling over her clit and sucking it between his lips. It has Elain’s head swimming, dizzy with the pleasure that courses like sparks beneath her skin with every change up. She can do nothing but grasp onto Lucien’s horns and hold on, can do nothing but let him draw every moan of his name past her lips.

Elain can feel herself cresting higher and higher, feel that heat coiling tighter and tighter in her gut. As if he can sense how close she is, Lucien turns all his attention to her clit, one of his hands sliding across her hip, up over her stomach, and to her breast. Without missing a beat, he tugs down the scoop neck of her dress, palming at her breast and tweaking at her nipple. It sends her tumbling over that ledge, Elain hips jolting up against Lucien’s hold as her orgasm tears through her.

She expects Lucien to pull away then, but he only seems to bury himself deeper, tongue continuing to lap at her. It has another round of aftershocks crashing through Elain, a whine torn from the back of her throat even with the overstimulation. She shifts one of her hands from his horn to his hair, tugging at the red strands, but the gesture merely makes Lucien groan again, Elain shuddering at the vibrations.

“Lucien,” Elain somehow chokes out, tugging at his hair again.

Lucien finally pulls back, and just the sight of him has Elain swallowing hard. His red hair is tousled and messy where it hangs around his face, an almost wild expression to his golden and russet eyes. And she can see the remnants of her release smeared around his smirking lips. It’s absolutely sinful.

“Did you enjoy that?” Lucien asks, sliding his thumb across his bottom lip before sucking the digit into his mouth.

“Did you?” Elain fires back, daring to raise a challenging eyebrow.

Part of it is because of the underlying teasing tone to his question, but the other part is to see if the reaction she garnered from him before was a fluke or not. Graysen had never hesitated to tell Elain when she was being bratty, when she was being a bitch. He never hesitated to remind her that she should be quiet, that she should be docile, the perfect, meek little housewife that he wanted. Never raise her voice. Never speak back. Never get her hands dirty.

But the way Lucien’s eyes spark, the way he keeps smirking, it has Elain’s heart pounding in the most dangerous way.

Lucien raises himself back above Elain, aligning their hips and rocking his still clothed hardness against her. “You tell me.”

Lucien closes the distance between them, kissing her hotly and pressing his tongue into her mouth. Elain whimpers against his lips, able to taste herself on him. She tugs more meaningfully against his hair, keeping him close to her as she rocks her hips up against him and chasing what friction she can.

Elain feels a pressure curl around her thigh, and for a moment, she’s confused. She can feel Lucien’s hands cradling her face. But when Lucien pulls away from the kiss, she glances down and realizes it’s his tail that’s holding her open and keeping her hips pinned to the ground. As if it has a mind of its own, the end of the tail slides teasingly up and down along the inside of her thigh, sending a shiver skittering up Elain’s spine.

“Beautiful.”

The whispered tone of Lucien’s voice draws her attention back to his gaze, and Elain supposes she shouldn’t be surprised to find him staring intently at her. But she doesn’t expect the softness that’s taken over his expression. She doesn’t expect the tender way his thumb skates across her skin over the blush she’s sure is spilling across her cheeks. Words die in and clog the back of Elain’s throat, and she can do nothing but pull Lucien down into another searing kiss.

“Please,” Elain begs against his lips. “Lucien, please. I need you.”

“I made you a promise, Elain,” Lucien tells her, his teeth nipping into her bottom lip and tugging. “And I intend to keep it.”

Lucien’s hand slides down her front, tugging her dress down even further until it’s merely a belt of bunched up fabric around her waist. His lips follow the same path, nipping and sucking at her skin, laving attention to each breast in turn. His hand continues the downward trek, but it’s clear he’s done teasing.

Elain gasps as he sinks a finger into her, clenching hard around the single digit. She doesn’t know what to pay more attention to, the way he pumps his finger or the way he swirls his tongue around her nipple. Either way, Elain can already feel herself cresting higher again dangerously fast.

“Fuck, Lucien,” Elain moans, digging her nails into his shoulders, down his arms. “Don’t stop. Gods, please don’t stop.”

“So beautiful. My beautiful Elain,” Lucien tells her, sinking a second finger beside the first and curling them until Elain is keening. “But you’re even more beautiful when you come, and I’d like a repeat showing.”

Lucien increases the pace of his fingers, his tail sliding further up her thigh until it presses against her clit. Another curl of his fingers and Elain arches up off the ground, coming with a shout she just barely has the foresight to cover up with a hand to her mouth.

Elain is still coming down from the high of her release when Lucien shifts above her. He discards his pants and aligns their hips, sinking into her inch by inch. He’s larger than Elain expects, stretching her in a way that has her toes curling, in a way no one ever has, in a way she’s not sure she’ll ever get enough of. At least, Lucien seems just as affected. He buries his face in the crook of her neck with a groan, one of his arms stretching beneath her and grasping tightly to her waist, keeping their chests pressed flushed together.

“I think I might be addicted to your sweet cunt,” Lucien murmurs against her skin. “I don’t ever want to leave.”

“So don’t.”

Elain rocks her hip up, encouraging him to move. Lucien lifts his head and smirks down at her, and Elain worries that he is truly going to make her beg for it, going to tease and make her use her words again. But then Lucien pulls his hips back just to snap them back forward again. Each rock into her is deep and hard, setting Elain alight until she dissolves into a litany of moans and Lucien’s name.

“That’s it, Elain. Tell the whole world who you belong to,” Lucien breathes hotly against her lips before stealing another searing kiss, the pace of his movements picking up. “Gods, you have no idea what you do to me.”

Lucien’s hand snakes between their bodies, finding her clit with ease. His fingers traces circles across it in time with his thrusts, and the dam breaks. White spots dance behind Elain’s eyes as she orgasms again, her entire body feeling weightless as she arches up into him. She’s half aware of Lucien stilling above her, of warmth filling her deep. She sinks back against the dirt, chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath.

“Have I tired my sweet mate out?”

Elain opens her eyes to find Lucien peering down at her, amusement dancing in his own gaze. It has fire sparking anew in Elain’s veins. She hitches her legs up higher on Lucien’s hips, pressing her thighs in and using momentum to flip them over. Lucien lets out a quiet sound of surprise as he goes sprawling on his back into the dirt, Elain astride across his hips. His hands reach for her waist, to steady her, but Elain is quick to capture his wrists in her hands, pinning them up by his head and leaning down so her nose brushes against his.

“Who said anyone was tired?”

Elain begins to circle and rock her hips until Lucien is groaning beneath her, until she can feel him hardening again. She sets a hard and brutal pace, using her hands on Lucien’s chest as leverage as she rides him. Every press down of her hips is an overstimulation to her clit, but it’s still not enough, and Elain tosses her head back as she chases her pleasure.

“Gods, I’m the luckiest male ever. Look at you.”

Lucien shifts beneath her, planting his feet, and then he’s snapping his hips up to meet her every movement. It only takes a few more thrusts before Elain is clenching hard, her whole body practically shaking with her orgasm. Lucien groans out Elain’s name as he follows her over the ledge, both of them riding out the aftershocks together.

Elain slumps forward against Lucien’s chest, sighing happily when she feels his arms wrap around her and holding her close. She lets her eyes flutter closed, smiling softly when she feels his lips press against her hair. With her head nestled against him, she can hear the steady beat of his heart just beneath her ear, her own an answering echo between her ribs.

When Elain opens her eyes again, she’s surprised to find her dress has been readjusted to cover her again, that she’s been moved beneath the shade and cover of the treeline. For a moment, she almost wonders if she imagined everything that happened before, if she fell asleep in the gardens and it was all some strangely vivid dream. But when Elain shifts, she finds Lucien sitting beside her, his elbows resting on his raised knees as he stares out at the flowers around them, at the way the early morning light before dawn breaks paints everything in hazy golds.

Elain sits up as well, hooking her arm through Lucien’s and pressing a sweet kiss of greeting to his shoulder. Lucien shifts his hand to lace their fingers together, and Elain realizes that no longer does he have claws. In fact, he looks perfectly human now, no horns or tail to be seen.

“My love,” Lucien greets her quietly, bringing their joined hands to his lips and pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

“You don’t look like a gargoyle anymore.”

“No. You freed me from the curse that was placed upon my village, that made me into that. Cursed to be locked away in stone until the day my mate came to me on the night of a full moon.”

“So, I’m still your mate?”

“You will always be my mate,” Lucien assures her, turning so he can slide his free hand across her cheek. “And you will always have my heart.”

Elain can’t help but blush at his words, but she leans forward and closes the distance between them. As Lucien kisses her back, something warm, something so incredibly right, blooms in her chest, settling like roots between her ribs. That golden thread glows brighter, grows stronger, where it’s twined around her heart, and Elain is sure that she’s never felt happier.

~ * * * ~

“Elain.”

Elain paces back and forth across the small space. She tugs at the hem of her top and then her hair, letting out a quiet sigh. It’s fine. Everything will go just fine.

“Elain, my love.” Lucien’s arms curl around Elain’s waist, tugging her closer and into his chest. “You need to stop worrying.”

“Easy for you to say,” Elain huffs against the fabric of his shirt. “You were literal stone a week ago. Now, go through the story again.”

Lucien sighs, even as he drops a sweet, soothing kiss to her hair. “Elain—”

“I don’t need my sister thinking I’m crazy. Go through the backstory again.”

“I was a regular at the bakery,” Lucien begins dutifully. “And I always had a crush on you. When I heard that you and that absolute piece of shit—”

“Graysen.”

“—broke up, I decided to finally ask you for drinks, and you agreed. And now we are madly in love and you can’t get enough of me,” Lucien finishes with a devilish smile, reaching his hand down to squeeze Elain’s ass and haul her closer still.

Elain bats Lucien’s hands away with a fond roll of her eyes just as the elevator doors open with a ding. She steps out into the hall, Lucien capturing her hand in his and lacing their fingers together as they walk the short distance to Nesta’s apartment door. Taking one final deep breath to steady herself, Elain raises her fist and knocks.

“Elain,” Nesta greets when she pulls open the door, stepping back to allow them into the apartment. “And this must be—”

“Lucien! Gods, it’s so good to see you again.”

Elain can do nothing but gape, nothing but blink in surprise, as she watches Cassian pull Lucien into a big bear hug, slapping him on the back with a wide grin. She doesn’t understand what she’s seeing, doesn’t understand how this is possible. Cassian is greeting Lucien as if he knows him, as if they are old friends, but Lucien was a gargoyle before.

And then it hits Elain.

Cassian seemed to come out of nowhere, Nesta never mentioning him before he moved in with her. Much like how Elain announced her new boyfriend along with her new apartment she’s renting with Lucien. And when she had first gone up to the roof, she had thought it strange there was not a fourth gargoyle to make it an even set. But that would mean…

Elain snaps her attention to Nesta, her older sister’s eyes wide and the barest hint of a blush coloring the apples of her cheeks. As if she too has come to the same conclusion, has realized the implication of Lucien and Cassian clearly knowing each other. For a moment, there’s just awkward silence hanging in the air between them, and then Elain can’t help it, she laughs.

—

Elain and Lucien had been dating for just over five years now, and around their second year together, Lucien had come up with a little tradition for Valentine’s Day: one bouquet of flowers for every year they’d been together. It hadn’t been so bad in the early days of their relationship, but now that they lived together and were talking about spending the rest of their lives together, things had gotten a little… out of hand. 

Lucien had never missed a birthday, anniversary, or Valentine’s Day, and he clearly wasn’t going to start now. There was a modest bouquet waiting for Elain when she walked downstairs to make herself some breakfast, a mix of pink, red, and white flowers brightening up their counter as they waited to be noticed.

Even though she’d known it was coming, that didn’t stop Elain from smiling as she read the little card waiting beside the vase. This one had a gnome on the front and said Valentine, there’s gnome-one like you!

She laughed as she opened the card to reveal Lucien’s familiar, prep-school handwriting. Happy Valentine’s Day, Elain, he’d written. I love you more than I can possibly explain. Yours, Lucien.

“Always the romantic,” Elain murmured fondly to herself. She gently placed the card back in its original spot and snapped a quick picture before opening up a new text to her boyfriend.

Elain Archeron, 7:57 AM

[Attachment: 1 Image] Stop trying to one-up me so early in the day, Lucien!

Lucien Vanserra, 7:58 AM

Why, is it working? ;-)

Elain snorted and put her phone away, focusing on getting through the rest of her morning routine instead of going back and forth with him. She had a quick breakfast, packed her lunch, and made it out the door on time for once. There thankfully wasn’t a lot of traffic for once, and she got lucky while looking for parking, so by the time she strolled into the biology building it was shaping up to be a wonderful day.

“Hey Elain,” Nuala, one of the other grad students in Elain’s program, greeted her as she walked into the graduate office. She and her twin were both students here, though Cerridwen hadn’t yet made an appearance yet. “There’s a delivery waiting for you at your desk.”

“Thanks,” Elain replied. She made a quick pit stop at the fridge to drop off her lunch before circling back to her desk, her jaw dropping at the bouquet waiting for her. “Oh my God.”

“Lucien strikes again?” Cerridwen asked from behind Elain, finally making her appearance this morning. She walked over to Elain’s desk and made appropriately impressed noises at the bouquet and accompanying card. “Wow. He’s really not playing around this year.”

“He’s ridiculous,” Elain answered. Judging from the sound of the twins’ chuckles, neither of them quite believed her. “He does this every year!”

“Trust me, we know,” Nuala responded with another laugh. “How do you think he gets them past security?”

“By batting his eyelashes and flirting with whoever’s at the front desk,” Elain fired back without missing a beat. “We’ve been together a long time. Trust me, I know all of his tricks.”

“No wonder he got so good at them,” Cerridwen teased. She winked at Elain before heading back over to her desk, her long, dark braids swinging behind her as she did. “Guess you two got in a lot of practice!”

Once Cerridwen left for her desk, Nuala wasn’t far behind. Elain let the sounds of the rest of the biology department trickling in fade into background noise as she reached for her second card of the day, this one with a picture of an orange cat on the front. The caption read, You had me at meow!

Elain flipped open the card to reveal another few lines of Lucien’s handwriting. You’re purrr-fect for me, Elain. Love, Lucien.

Elain Archeron, 9:13 AM

[Attachment: 1 Image] It’s barely 9 am!!!

Lucien Vanserra, 9:14 AM

What can I say? You’re all that I knead 😻

Elain shook her head fondly before she pulled up her schedule for today, looking forward to TAing classes and working on her own research. She responded to a few emails and set some reminders for herself before grabbing her backpack and heading upstairs for her first class of the day, and by the time she made it back downstairs to the grad office for lunch, there was yet another bouquet waiting for her at her desk.

“He’s really stepping it up this year,” Cerridwen said once Elain got back to her desk, already nodding with approval. Nuala wasn’t in the office, so it was just the two of them for now, a reversal of this morning when Elain had first arrived. “Two bouquets in one day? Sheesh.”

“You know he does one for every year we’ve been together,” Elain replied, smiling as she gently brushed her fingers across the pink and white peonies. “I have two bouquets to go before I’m done for the day.”

“You did tell me that.” Cerridwen sighed wistfully from her desk. “Does he have any sisters?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Elain answered. “He’s one of seven boys, if you can believe it.”

“Jesus. His poor mother.”

“You can say that again.”

They fell into comfortable silence after that, Cerridwen going back to whatever she was working on while Elain reached for the card. This one was science-themed and pulled a soft laugh out of her the second she read it; the front had a molecule on the front and said, We’ve got a strong bond!

Happy Valentine’s Day, (almost) Dr. Archeron, Lucien had written. We’ve got some awesome chemistry!

Elain pulled out her phone to take another picture and sent it to Lucien immediately.

Elain Archeron, 12:23 PM

[Attachment: 1 Image] I’m not a chemist, you dork

Lucien Vanserra, 12:25 PM

Doesn’t matter

You should change your name to Enzyme the way you make me react

Elain rolled her eyes, quickly taking another picture — this time, of herself looking annoyed — before sending it over to him. He’d made that joke every single time Elain reminded him that she was in a biology program, not a chemistry one, but it didn’t stop him from making it anyway.

Elain Archeron, 12:26 PM

[Attachment: 1 Image] Can you feel my disappointment.

Lucien Vanserra, 12:28 PM

I’d much rather feel something else 😈

Elain hoped no one had seen her choke on her leftover spaghetti and meatballs as she read her boyfriend’s text. Cheeks pink, she quickly texted him back while trying not to die getting her food to go down the right pipe.

Elain Archeron, 12:29 PM

Don’t start with me I have office hours at 1!! Let me enjoy my lunch in peace you scoundrel

Lucien Vanserra, 12:30 PM

That’s 30 minutes from now, Elain Don’t be like that

Elain Archeron, 12:30 PM

GOODBYE, Lucien

Lucien just sent back a series of laughing emojis, so Elain rolled her eyes and went back to finishing her lunch in relative peace. Once her break was over, it seemed like the rest of the day flew by, between meeting with a few students for office hours, working on a study guide to distribute to her sections, and grading some quizzes she’d meant to finish last week.

Elain startled as someone knocked on her desk, looking up to find Cerridwen fixing her with a look. “Elain, get out of here already.”

“I’m almost done, I promise,” Elain replied. A quick glance at the time showed it was already 4:30, and if she wanted to get home in time to bake Lucien something sweet, she knew she needed to get a move on. “I just have a few left—”

“Come on, you know Thesan won’t care,” Cerridwen insisted. Thesan was one of the professors they both worked with, and he was well known for his more relaxed vibe in the biology department. “Just finish them up tomorrow and come on already.”

“Okay, okay, fine,” Elain agreed, holding her hands up in surrender. “Twist my arm.”

Cerridwen waited for Elain to finish packing up her things, and then the two of them were off to the garage. With Cerridwen’s help, they managed to get the two bouquets to Elain’s car without dropping anything, which was a minor miracle as far as Elain was concerned. Once they got off the elevator onto Elain’s floor, Elain somehow got her keys out without jostling anything too badly, and she almost didn’t notice the bouquet of red roses already inside until Cerridwen made a surprised noise.

“Oh my God,” Elain said incredulously once she noticed there was somehow another bouquet inside her car. “That sneaky motherfucker!”

Cerridwen gently laid the bouquet she was holding down on the backseat while Elain went to investigate the roses in the passenger seat. “He’s smooth as hell, I’ll give him that.”

“He’s ridiculous is what he is,” Elain replied, laughing off her surprise. “How did he even know where I parked!”

“He probably drove around looking for your car,” Cerridwen suggested. “Now that’s a keeper.”

“That he is,” Elain agreed. There wasn’t a card to go with this one, so Elain shrugged and put the rest of her stuff in the backseat with the other two bouquets. “You want me to give you a ride to your car?”

“No, I’m okay,” Cerridwen responded. She waggled her eyebrows as she added, “I don’t want to interrupt however you’re going to thank him when you get home.”

“Goodbye, Cerridwen,” Elain told her, ignoring the way Cerridwen was laughing at her pink cheeks. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Cerridwen was still laughing as she turned and started walking back toward the elevator. “See you tomorrow, Elain. Enjoy your V-Day!”

Elain managed to make it home in one piece, and thankfully no other surprises were waiting for her when she got through the door. She had to make two trips to carry the ridiculous amount of flowers Lucien had gotten her inside, and since the stems had already been cut, she made quick work of finding vases to put them all in.

From there, she got started on dinner and dessert. Lucien may have been a sneaky wizard when it came to leaving her flowers, but Elain was a true mastermind when it came to the kitchen. She’d been planning this meal for at least two weeks, and it felt good to finally put her plans into action. She poured a lot of love into her Marry Me chicken — aptly named, if you asked her — but the real star of the show was the lava cakes she was making from scratch. She’d been secretly testing the recipe out and she prayed tonight wasn’t going to be the night things went wrong.

Of course it wasn’t. She was just that good.

By the time Elain looked up at the time, she realized Lucien was probably going to be home in the next couple of minutes, so she ran to the bathroom to quickly freshen up. She made it downstairs just in time to see the lock turning in the door, and even though she’d long since gotten used to the sight of her boyfriend coming home, it still sent a happy little shiver up her spine every time he came home to her.

“You’re absolutely ridiculous,” Elain called out the second Lucien got through the front door. Lucien was waiting for her with a final bouquet, the sheer amount of roses stuffed into this one making it a little difficult to see his handsome face over the tops of the flowers. “Lucien!”

“My love knows no bounds, Elain,” Lucien said back, setting the frankly ridiculous bouquet down on the coffee table so he could wrap her up in a warm embrace instead. “Mhmm, I missed you today. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day to you too,” she replied. Her voice was a little muffled from where her face was pressed against his chest, but neither of them minded. “How the hell did you get flowers into my car?”

“A gentleman never reveals his secrets,” he answered, pulling away so he could steal a kiss instead. He tasted like chocolate, and she hoped it was a sign he’d enjoy his dessert tonight. “But if you must know… I took the emergency key and drove around looking for where you parked.”

“Of course you did,” she responded, shaking her head fondly. She reached onto her toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, savoring the way his eyes crinkled around the edges as she did. “Come on, Mr. Romantic. I made us dinner and dessert.”

“It smells amazing in here,” he told her. He was still holding onto her, one of his warm hands sliding under the hem of her sweater to touch the small of her back, and suddenly she wasn’t quite thinking about the same kind of dessert. “Can I send my compliments to the chef?”

Their food was a little cold by the time they made it to the table, but that was alright. Elain wouldn’t have it any other way, and neither would Lucien.