#secretsanta2025

Granted, this 'mere' woman had him taken near immediately, even though she was chilled to the bone with the waters of the Cauldron, lying on the dingy floors of Hybern, and the whispers of Feyre in his ear, who told him story upon story of her nightmarish life prior Tamlin.

She also happened to be his fated mate. This is most likely where the 'driven mad' part comes into play, since not only was she dismissing his increasing affections, but also the bond along with it. It was truly taking a toll on his heath, when every moment spent in silence is a moment spent dreading the up and coming moment when she officially rejects him.

Everyone could tell, it wasn't exactly a secret, anyhow. And it was worrying people around him. Specifically, it was worrying none other than the High Lady herself, who hadn't seen Lucien this down in a long while.

She had come to the conclusion he needed her help after finding him alone in the gardens one evening, long after everyone had gone to bed. He wore a wistful expression as he traced the petals of a Hydrangea, and she had most certainly felt the kind of aching pity you feel seeing a run-over animal.

That pity had unfortunately landed him here.

Here being Rita's.

Now, don't get him wrong, a much younger Lucien would have sprung at the opportunity to go to a club he's never been to and deflower a woman or two— in fact, a Lucien four years ago would. But everything is different now.

He remained sat in the booth that Feyre had picked out, intending to stay in it. He was nursing his drink, some ridiculously named special that had the most amount of alcohol on the menu, something he would need if he was going to get through this night.

So far he had rejected two offers to dance from a duo of nymphs who had less or more draped themselves onto him and an invitation back to some pretty female's apartment, which he had no interest in going to. His abstinence deeply infuriating the female across from him.

"Did you swear an oath of chastity without my knowledge?" Feyre remarked, a familiar lilt of sarcasm in her voice, "I didn't realize, forgive me."

"Feyre, you know entirely well why I am sitting in this seat." He said harshly, looking down at his drink.

"But do you owe her loyalty?" She asked.

His heart lunged into his throat, his free hand drifting up to his heart, where the pesky little mate bond resided. "I might not," he began, "But I intend to do so anyways, until she formerly rejects our bond, and very likely after as well."

A sigh escaped the female, she was entirely at a loss how to help him. She would never force Elain into this, and he would rather lose his one good eye than do anything of the sort.

He watches as Feyre sinks into the seat, her hands coming to her head in a manner one could only define as aggravated.

He felt bad, truly, she was trying so painfully hard to cheer him up. "Perhaps we could just go home?" He proposed. And even though it was hardly eleven, he added, "It's late out, and Nyx isn't going to be asleep for much longer."

Feyre peaked out from behind her hands, glaring at him. He was familiar with this routine, and simply narrowed his eyes back.

After only a few moments of this petty staring contest, she relented, standing up and leaving more than enough money on the table for a party of ten, much less the two of them.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom, wait outside for me." She waved back, turning into the sea of bodies to fight her way to the other side before he could even protest.

But he was more than happy to leave, pushing out of the suffocating club and into the chilled air. His steps clicking on the now cobblestone ground, leaning back against the building, tilting his head back with a drawn out exhale.

Outside was probably worse than inside, Lucien thought. Outside, all he could smell was his mate.

He was truly driving himself mad, absolutely off his fucking rockers. She followed him everywhere, in his sleep, behind his eyelids, in the crevices of his soul, and now she had to follow him via hallucinations. Was this the agony that the tales spoke of? The long-drawn suffering he would have to endure? Would he slowly lose all his senses until his mind and body was consumed with her?

"Are you waiting for someone?" An entirely ethereal voice said from beside him, one he could recognize from only the echoes carried on the wind.

His eyes snap open and move to the voices owner. "Elain..." He breathed out, barely a whisper of pure need gracing his lips. Surely too much for a woman who wanted nothing to do with him.

Upon finding her, his heart tripped treacherously in his heart. He cleared his throat and body straightened on instinct, "Lady Elain," he corrected, greeting her with a tip of his brow.

She stood there before him, a masterpiece made flesh. His hands shaking in their effort to hold back from her, trying to retain focus on the words she had uttered previously.

But before he could entirely process her words, she repeated them again with no ceremony, "Are you waiting for someone?"

His heart, which previously held residency in his throat, dropped to his ass. Did she think he was waiting for another female? "Feyre." He said quickly, entirely uninterested in his mate thinking he was disloyal for even a second.

"Feyre, I'm waiting for Feyre."

The tension in her shoulders relaxed, a smile on her lips, which previously were pulled into a frown. "Ah," she hummed, looking down at her shoes, "That makes sense."

"Yes." He murmured, willing his eyes away from her lips. His usual demeanor of restrained-gentleman weakened by the alcohol, naturally he would never do anything she hadn't made explicitly clear he had permission to, but his longing was shittily concealed, his tongue loosened.

Though the sight of him, disheveled and flushed, was enough to loosen Elain's tongue along with his. "What were you doing out?" She uttered, brushing her skirts.

Lucien let out a hum, "Just a few drinks, to 'loosen me up', Feyre said."

"Of course. And surely not engaging in any...amorous congress, I'd assume?"

His eyes narrowing just slightly, "Pardon? I'm not quite sure what you mean by that."

A scoff escapes Elain, who's calloused hands fold into two tight fists, "Oh you know plenty well what I mean by that. You are downright flushed, shirt half undone and practically reek of unknown females."

Ah, those damned nymphs.

But before he could properly explain himself, the words Feyre had said to him just minutes before replay in his mind. Half drunkenly, and entirely stupidly, he said, "And? What if I was?"

The woman before him looked entirely scattered. "Excuse me? You are a mated male." She squeaked out, practically fuming. Her usually rosey cheeks now red with indignantion.

He let out a scoff, "Am I at fault? Don't think I haven't seen you and the Shadowsinger dancing around one another."

"Me and— Oh, you...you— foolish man!" She said, turning around on the balls of her feet and stomping away.

Guilt immediately floods into his chest, that stupid mouth of his, sprouting off utter nonsense to his mate, who prior had done nothing wrong.

"Elain...wait!"

He said, moving forward to trail after her, entirely abandoning his post waiting for Feyre. "My Lady, please...I didn't mean that."

But she continues stomping away, faster than one would assume with her stature. If this were any other instance, he would have curled in on himself and died a shameful, shameful death. But he was drunk, and entirely at fault here. His deep-seated need for her to understand overriding his usual self-hatred.

"Don't follow me." She said, twisting and turning throughout the cobbled streets, going what seemed to be the exact opposite of the way home.

Yet he steamed onward, worry now joining in to create a triage of reasons for doing so. "My Lady, you'll get yourself lost..." He said, extending a hand to reach out for her, gently hooking around her wrist.

"I understand if you have no desire to see me right now, I would feel the same. But please don't sacrifice your safety, it's rather cold out and you're barely wearing thick enough clothes." He said, immediately releasing her and slipping off his jacket to placing upon her shoulders, his hands resting there subconsciously.

"Please, let me walk you home. I will go directly back to the Human Lands without a word of displeasure if you so wish for it, and you will never hear a word from me again. But please, My Lady...lets get you somewhere warm."

Elain's honeyed gaze meets his, her eyebrows furrowed with displeasure. "Why...why were you with other women? I thought you were pursuing me?" She muttered, embarrassed and pissed.

Luciens eyes soften and he lets out a soft breath. "I wasn't." He said, looking away from her to add. "Even if I was, why would you care? I'm just waiting for you to reject my advances at this point."

A soft sigh escapes her and her hands comes to his, "How many gifts of yours have I returned?" She said, "None. In fact— I stare at them in the middle of the night, when sleep refuses to come to me. And that is often."

He nods slowly, a low fluttering sensation in his stomach at the thought of her caring for his gifts, it was a lovely sensation, but going ignored for his own well being. "I'm confused, My Lady." He said earnestly, eyes searching her face for the answers.

"I have returned gifts from Grayson and Azriel, but never you." She said, meeting his gaze. "Never you."

Lucien opens his mouth to speak his confusion again, but she quickly cut him off, offering the answer without waiting. "You have no competition, Lord Lucien. So, why aren't you pursing me?"

His mouth opens into an 'o', his eyes darting along her face. "I've been waiting for your signal, My Lady." He said earnestly, "I haven't received any, and I will not aggressively pursue until I've been given clear consent."

"And what is clear consent to you, Sir?" She said, "Was my keeping your cloak from our first meeting not enough? My continuous acceptance of your gifts?"

"A definitive answer. An action, perhaps. But I would never assume something based on an action that could easily be cordial."

"Oh, for the love of—" She huffed, rolling her eyes. Her hands slipping from where they covered his to the collar of his top, pulling him down to meet her lips, standing on her toes.

Lucien's eyes widen from shock, hands shaking and his brain repeating, "Is this real?" over and over until it goes numb.

With nothing left but his heart and his instincts, his hands leave her shoulders coming to rest on the small of her back. He tugs her body towards his, dipping his head down to meet hers. Absentmindedly, he guides her towards the brick of a nearby wall, carefully backing her into it so he could properly ravish her mouth.

A gentle noise escapes Elain, a mix of surprise and excitement. At the opening of her lips, he instantaneously slides his tongue against hers, fingers digging into her hips to restrain himself from completely consuming the poor woman.

Her hands comb through his hair, tugging the ginger curls at the base of his head in a way that makes his hands lower down her back and lips leave hers to kiss her neck.

"Oh, fuck." He whispered against her skin, leaving hot kisses along the line of her neck and inhaling her scent deeply, letting out a rumbling groan at the feeling of her against him. His hands knead into her, squeezing her ample bottom as he hoists her up, her legs hooking on his hips.

Elain shakes from the euphoria of feeling him, nails dragging along his shoulders and neck as she pants. A tight, hot feeling erupts in her gut, her tightening in a desperate attempt to get some for of friction against her.

"Lucien," she breathes, clinging to his back at the feeling of him hard against her, rocking her hips before he steadies her with his hand, keeping her from moving. "Please." She whines, tugging his hair the same way that made him hard before, just to get what she wanted.

"No...I can't, My Lady. I can't...not here." He groaned breathlessly, sucking a mark into her neck, her eyes tearing up at the sensation of it. He shakes his head against her as she whines again, growing harder at the smell of her arousal, gasping into her skin.

"Lucien?"

His head unceremoniously whips up, Elain turning her head as well. Feyre stands before them, with a rather amused raise of her eyebrows as a smirk is plastered on her face. He feels Elain go rigid and warm beneath him, her face flustered as she croaks out a series of noises that sound like the very being of a few words, without ever fully becoming any.

Lucien gently sets her down and fixes her— his coat. He clears his throat and smiled, "Lady Elain and I were having a conversation."

Feyre nods slowly, a grin gracing her lips. "Uh-huh...well, you two can continue when we get back. Just...put a silencing glamour on your room, please. Nyx needs as much sleep as he can get." She said, turning around and walking off, a shake of her head visible even as she gets farther.

He clears his throat, hand coming to rest— appropriately— on the small of Elain's back, a grin on his lips that he tries to hide, if only for his mates sake.

"We will." He called out to Feyre, Elain huffing in exasperation as he guides her back to her house for the night, the bond pleasantly humming between them.

i really hope to enjoyed it! as you've probably guessed im not entirely confident in my writing, but I hope i made something that checked all of your boxes and you liked reading!

lots of love, your secret santa

There was something about sinking her hands into fresh soil, the morning sun warm on her back, that made Elain Archeron feel truly alive. She had always found comfort among creeping roots and climbing vines, even as a small child.

Her earliest memory was hiding in a large hydrangea bush after shattering her mother’s prize vase. The flowers smooth petals had calmed her thumping heart, sparking a love for gardens that would last a lifetime.

When her mother died a few years later and grief almost swallowed her whole, it was only counting the overwhelming amount of white lilies, carnations and roses in the room that kept her afloat.

After her father lost all the family money, and they had to move to the dilapidated cabin that would become their home, Elain escaped the bleakness by trying to brighten up the scrap of hard land they had outside.

Flowers were one challenge, the small blooms struggling to grow in the dry soil, but anything edible was almost impossible to sprout. The tiny harvest she could achieve was worth far less than the coin it had cost to buy the seeds, so eventually she gave up on that endeavour and drew her focus solely to cheering up the cabin with cuttings of marigolds and pansies.

Gardening became her anchor in times of trouble, so it made sense that after the trauma of the Cauldron, Elain would once again seek solace in gardens. Feyre and Rhysand had offered her a stretch of land, offering her the creative freedom to fill it however she pleased. They said it was to become a memorial garden for those lost in the attack on Velaris, but Elain understood they were also offering her lifeline. Somewhere quiet to focus her attention. Somewhere she could breathe.

Elain had been deeply grateful for their kindness. She had lost so much in her transition to life in the Night Court, but with her focus on nurturing her plants, she began to feel again. She might have brought the garden to life, but it had breathed life back into her too.

The Rainbow Memorial Gardens had been a perfect success. Fae from across the Night Court spoke of how Elain had expertly sculpted the landscape, painting the land with colour and light. Elain had never aimed for such praise, and certainly never desired the notoriety she had seemed to receive in the months since the gardens were unveiled, but she had to admit to herself that seeing the pride in Nesta and Feyre’s faces as they walked amongst the moonflowers had filled her heart with joy.

Elain was busy installing a small wooden butterfly house in a cosy corner of the gardens when the letter arrived. The powder-pink seal ignited her interest immediately, as unmistakably pressed into the wax was the emblem of the Spring Court.

Opening the parchment with nervous hands, Elain read, and then read again.

Dear Miss Archeron,

My name is Hattie Winthrop, Inter-Court Delegate and Head of the Spring Court Restoration Board. I write to you on behalf of the High Lord and the citizens of the Spring Court, who wish to rehabilitate our home back to the thriving land it was before the war.

We have heard whispers of your remarkable work creating the gardens of the Night Court, and the positive effect it has since had on the community. It is for this reason that we believe you would be the perfect candidate to aid us in restoring the once thriving gardens of Spring.

We are aware that the truce between our courts remains fragile, yet our High Lords and Lady are working tirelessly to rebuild the trust that was lost on both sides. I believe that your presence, as a member of the Night Court willing to offer us help, would do a lot to strengthen those efforts.

Should you choose to join us, please know that no binding commitment will be required and you may, of course, return home whenever you wish. It will be a large undertaking, given the number of gardens that need your help, but even if you only tend to a fraction of our lands in your time here, we would be beyond grateful.

A home will be prepared for your stay, although it will be shared with the male who is assisting with our landscaping needs. He is a kind soul, who upon meeting him several times, I believe would work well with you and your talents.

With kindest regards, Hattie Winthrop

Wiping her sweat-slicked hands on her skirts, Elain began a slow and contemplative walk back to the townhouse.

I can’t possibly do this… can I? She thought to herself. She had never been so far from her sisters. It would be a risk. She may hate it entirely. It could be a disaster waiting to happen ...

But then she remembered how in her younger years she had ached for adventure. Dreamt of seeing more of the world than the small village she knew so well. Perhaps it was time she allowed herself to take a chance.

By the time she arrived home and readied herself for dinner with the inner circle, her decision had already taken root in her chest.

“I am not a child!” Elain scowled, the stern furrow of her brow at odds with the usual warmth of her face. 

“Well that’s strange, because you're certainly acting like one,” Nesta retorted, gripping the silver fork in her hand so tightly that Elain was surprised she hadn’t snapped it in half. 

Announcing her news to the room over dinner had clearly been the wrong decision. Elain should have known that her family would have reservations. Not only because they liked to treat her like she was too fragile to stand on her own two feet, but also due to the simple mention of the Spring Court. She had been naive to think their pride at her work in Velaris would mean that they had finally started to believe in her. 

Nesta had, somewhat predictably blown up, and Feyre tried desperately to calm the situation, despite the fact that she clearly agreed with the eldest Archeron’s stance. The room felt heavy, the usual chatter replaced by uneasy glances. The rest of the Inner Circle sat still, even Rhysand knew to sit back and let the sisters work through it themselves, merely offering a comforting hand at Feyre’s back. 

“Will you stop treating me like I can't handle myself!” Elain exclaimed, throwing her napkin onto the table, clumsily knocking over her glass. The crisp white table cloth soaked up the red liquid much faster than anyone could react, and Rhys winced at the spreading stain, one that would inevitably prove difficult to magic out. 

"You’re being reckless, Elain. If you want to be treated like an adult, then stop making rash decisions,” Nesta quipped. 

Elain caught the silver gleam in Nesta’s eyes. She knew her well enough to recognise the fear hidden behind the anger, but she’d reached her limit. She had stunted herself for long enough because of her sisters’ insistence that she be protected. She was exhausted with playing it safe. 

“Spring has asked me to help them restore their lands, Nesta. I’m not joining their ranks and putting myself in danger. I’m helping them.”

Feyre reached out and gently closed her fingers around Elain’s, her eyes pleading. 

“We just want you to think it over a little more, Elain. Spring isn’t the safest place right now. I know we’re trying to mend things between the courts, but after everything that happened, you can’t really blame us for wondering if there’s more to this than they’re telling you?”

“Oh, of course. It couldn’t possibly be because they saw value in what I’ve done for this court. There has to be some sort of ulterior motive,” Elain snatched her hand back and strode toward the door, but stopped in the doorway before crossing the threshold.

“No. Why would anyone believe that silly little Elain could ever do something worthy of actual note?” Her voice cracked, tears pricking her eyes. “That’s always been your job, hasn't it? Yours and Nesta’s.”

“Elain, that’s not what I meant,” Feyre said quickly, rising halfway from her seat, guilt consuming her features. “We do see your talent. But that doesn’t mean others won’t use it to hurt you … or us. We just want to keep you safe.”

Elain softened slightly at Feyre’s words, but her determination remained unwavering. 

“I know I haven’t always made sense to either of you. I know I’m not fierce, not a warrior. But this, this is something I can do. A way that I can help make the world a better place,”

Her voice dropped, tinged with sadness.  “And maybe, just once, you’ll see that being gentle isn’t a weakness. Then I can prove to you that I can be strong in my own way.”

Feyre nodded slowly, her face solemn as she took in Elain’s words. Nesta too appeared to be thawing, her shoulders relaxing and her eyes softening.

“Elain, we never thought you were weak. There’s more than one way to be strong,” Feyre said, offering a genuine smile that Elain could not help but return. “But you’re right. We’ve been treating you like you’re made of glass, and that’s not fair. If you want to do this ... then we’re right behind you. Aren’t we, Nesta?”

“Of course, we are.” Nesta said, standing slowly and approaching her sisters. 

“Just do me a favour. If any of those Spring Court males give you trouble, remind them your sisters have some very sharp swords.” 

The night before Elain was due to depart for the Spring Court, sleep did not come easy. 

There was a time when Elain had to battle with her own mind, swamped by visions she couldn’t handle, but months of intensive training had offered her the promise of peace. These days her visions were firmly under her control and didn’t rear their heads unless she actively called upon them. 

But that night, the visions were not waiting for her permission. 

As she burrowed down into her sheets, waiting for the warm blanket of sleep to envelop her, Elain felt the familiar burning light behind her eyelids, letting out a shuddering gasp, before succumbing to the images in her mind.  

The vision was not fully formed yet. They never were at the beginning, always arriving in fragments before she could begin to decipher what they were trying to tell her.

Desperate hands gripping tangled bedsheets, the sweat-slicked air thick with lust.

Rolling thunder and lighting, breaking its way through dense black clouds. 

A peculiar flower, bowing, its petals cascading in a delicate bell shaped cluster. 

A male, lying still, his firm chest exposed to the elements, dark blood oozing from a nasty wound below his ribs. 

Pangs of fear consume Elain as she searches for the males face, but the edges of her sight remain blurred, and as quickly as it arrived, the vision blows away like mist on the breeze. 

As she came to, Elain focused on her breathing, desperate to ease the tension that had gripped her chest. 

She knew she should find her sisters and tell them what she had seen. In rebuilding their relationships with one another, they had promised to share their anxieties rather than burying them deep like they had in the past. But she couldn’t. They were already on edge about her leaving for Spring, if she were to add this to the mix they were sure to worry. 

No, this was something Elain had to handle on her own. She had regained control of her visions once. She could do it again. 

After a tearful goodbye with Nesta and Feyre, and a mildly terrifying flight with Rhys to the boarders of the Spring Court, Elain was finally starting to feel the stirring of excitement for her new adventure.

An ornate carriage awaited her just beyond the border, its interior lined with plush red velvet that felt too grand compared the bleakness outside. She rode towards the heart of Spring, where she would be staying, gazing out of the window at the barren land, and felt determined to breathe life back into the ghost of the struggling court.

As the sun melted into the soft pink horizon, the carriage began to slow, gently stirring Elain from slumber. The air had cooled considerably in the hours she had been riding, and she had nestled herself comfortably into the warm embrace of the wool shawl Nesta had gifted her for Solstice. Blinking the last traces of sleep from her eyes, Elain startled as a knock sounded against the carriage door, announcing someone’s arrival.

She opened the door and stepped down gracefully onto the dry, cracked earth below, only to be met by perhaps the friendliest face she had ever seen. The petite fae before her wore a broad, shining smile, her braided hair was tucked snuggly into a bun at the nape of her neck, around which hung a shimmering opal necklace.

"Miss Archeron? I’m Hattie Winthrop. It’s truly a pleasure to finally meet you,” Hattie said, her voice warm, instantly putting Elain at ease.

"Oh, please, call me Elain. The pleasure is all mine, I’m sure," she smiled, reaching to shake Hattie’s outstretched hand. Elain liked her immediately.

“Well, if you’d like to follow me, I can show you where you’ll be staying," Hattie said, gesturing for Elain to follow her down a winding stone path.

They walked together in companionable silence, Hattie giving Elain the grace to absorb her unfamiliar surroundings. Due to her correspondence with Hattie, Elain had anticipated that the land would need a lot of work, but she hadn’t expected it to feel so devoid of life. Doubt crept in. Could she really do this?

“I must admit,” Elain said, breaking away from her thoughts and glancing at Hattie, “I have been wondering how you came to choose me for this.”

“We’d heard rumours of your success,” Hattie replied sincerely. “But it was the new Spring Court emissary who sealed it. She visited your gardens after a meeting with your High Lord and Lady, and her feedback was nothing short of exemplary.”

Elain blushed, looking to her feet with a shy smile.

“Are there many other elements to the restoration plans? I can’t imagine that I am the only person you’ve asked to help restore an entire court,” Elain asked curiously.

“There are many different things we are doing to improve the court. We’ve already been working hard on repairing any buildings that were caught in the crossfires of the war, and we’ve greatly appreciated the help that the Day Court has provided us in mending our wards," she replied.

“Fixing the heart of the court though, bringing the life back to the land itself, that’s where you come in," Hattie finished, the confidence she had in Elain shining through her kind eyes.

"You mentioned in your letter that I’d be staying and working with the male that was hired for landscaping?” Elain asked. She had been immediately curious since finding out, excited to have company, but also nervous about whether they would get along.

"Yes! Oh, he’s a wonderful male. Hardworking, generous, and not to mention, rather handsome. I’m sure the two of you will make a fabulous pair."

"Well, so long as he can put up with my snoring. My sisters have informed me at length that I make the walls rattle," Elain laughed, thinking of all the mornings in the cabin where she would wake perfectly rested, only to be greeted by Nesta and Feyre’s tired and grumpy faces.

Hattie chuckled. “I think he’ll manage just fine,” She slowed suddenly, her face brightening. “Ah, here we are.”

She gestured towards a beautiful little cottage with strong stone walls and a quaint thatched roof. Whilst the gardens the house sat in were clearly struggling, the home itself appeared full of life. The wooden windows were wide open, allowing the fresh evening air to ripple the gossamer curtains. The homely clatter of pots and pans sounded from inside, bringing with it the smell of something delicious on the breeze, causing Elain’s empty stomach to rumble.

“Welcome home,” Hattie said. “Would you like me to come in with you?”

“No, that’s okay. I’m sure you have a million more important things to be doing,” Elain insisted.

“Well, before I leave I have something to give you.” Reaching into her skirt pocket, Hattie carefully pulled out a smooth pink stone.

“To help us speed up our restorations, High Lord Helion gifted the board a selection of rose quartz stones imbued with magic that will allow us to communicate much faster than by letter. If you ever need help just whisper who you’d like to contact and it will alert me that you need something. Please don’t hesitate to use it. Even if you’d just like some female company once in a while.”

“I just might take you up on that.” Elain laughed, giving Hattie a delicate hug goodbye before turning back to face her new home.

Tentatively, Elain pushed open the creaking wooden door and stepped into the quaint living room. It was filled to the brim with plush seating and rich mahogany wood, and though the furnishings had seen better days, they still clearly carried the stories of all those who had once called this place home.

It was a challenge for her not to compare this home with the one she and her sisters had spent most of their youth in. The dilapidated cabin had been the complete opposite of this place, not just because of its very basic furnishings in comparison, but the lack of warmth that had filled it. Here, worn armchairs were not the sign of an inability to afford new upholstery, but instead an indication of the sheer number of nights the previous tenants must have spent around the fire, laughing with their friends and family. 

Elain’s heart cracked in two at the inability to bring her family together whilst her father was still alive.  They were all so determined to survive in their own way, that they’d completely forgotten how to do it together. Nesta had steeped herself in venom to protect herself from the pain. Feyre had taken charge, willing to do what nobody else would to keep them afloat. Their father had hidden away from it all, too ashamed of his failures to try again.

And Elain ... she had hidden too, in her own quiet world.

Something she regretted.

Something she would not do again.

Dust swirled through soft beams of light as Elain moved deeper into the room. She was pulled abruptly from her thoughts, however, by a sound that stopped her in her tracks.

Ba-bum.

Ba-bum.

Ba-bum.

Elain sucked in a breath at the familiar sound. It was a heartbeat, strong and steadfast, reverberating around her head, sending tingles right down her body to the tips of her toes.

It can’t be, she thought, her stomach flipping.

That’s when a voice came from the doorway behind her.

“Good evening, my lady, I am Lu-” 

The male cut himself off as Elain turned, the pure shock on his face mirrored her own. 

“Lucien,” Elain breathed, the air between them taut with tension. The sound of Lucien’s heart intertwined with her own, thudding with uncertainty. 

Did he know I was coming? Elain wondered, her stomach knotting. Was this all some elaborate setup? 

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” he rushed out, reading the concern in her face and wanting to quash it immediately. 

“Hattie thought with my love for the outdoors that I would be best suited to help fix the gardens. She told me I would be working with a gardener, but you have my word that I did not know it was you.”

She didn’t know why she was so quick to believe him. Perhaps it was the sincerity in his face, or the genuine concern in his eyes, but the tightness in her chest slowly began to unwind. 

It had been almost a year since they had been in the same room. It had been Nyx’s first birthday. She hadn’t been ready to face it then, focusing solely on her nephew's happy giggles, pointedly ignoring Lucien’s presence despite the fact that she could feel his eyes following her. But in recent months, she had begun to think that maybe she should write him. To address the situation. To draw a line under it one way or another.

Elain allowed herself then to well and truly take him in. She had only ever allowed herself fleeting glances before. When the hefty weight of becoming fae was weighing her down, and Lucien’s declaration of the bond had felt like a burning rope around her neck, she couldn’t bear the thought of his presence, much less make eye contact. But now, with time and distance from the Cauldron, Elain found herself becoming intrigued by the male whom the Mother had deemed her most perfect match. And Gods, he was beautiful.

“I can contact Hattie. Ask to be placed elsewhere if you’re uncomfortable,” Lucien continued, his hands wringing restlessly. 

For a moment Elain considered his offer, thought of retreating, of letting him leave, but in Lucien’s eyes she saw nothing but nervous consideration for her wellbeing, and she knew deep in her soul that he offered her no harm. 

“No, that isn’t necessary,” Elain insisted, offering him a soft smile. 

“The court needs our help and if they think we are best placed here, then we should both stay.” 

“Okay,” Lucien said, letting out a shaky breath. 

“Well,” he began after a moment, “I knew the new gardener would be arriving soon, so I made dinner. You don’t have to eat with me if you don’t want to, but I thought you might be hungry after all that travel.”

At the mention of food, Elain’s stomach let out an almighty growl, sending them both into an awkward fit of giggles. 

“I think food would be a great idea, thank you,” Elain said, following Lucien into the kitchen and seating herself at the little wooden table he had already set for two. 

Lucien busied himself, filling two bowls with a generous helping of stew, but his heart didn’t stop hammering in his chest, still in shock that Elain was truly there, and that she hadn’t recoiled at the thought of being in his presence. 

“So, how did your sisters take you leaving? I can’t imagine they were best pleased,” Lucien asked, handing Elain a steaming bowl, the scent of spices spiralling up into a fragrant cloud.

“As you would imagine. Nesta hit the roof, and Feyre tried to calm things down while also showing how much she disapproved of my choices. They came around eventually though. They know I need to do this,” Elain said, blowing on a spoonful of the hot stew.

“Although Nesta was very keen to show any one who came near me the pointy end of her sword.”

“I’ll bear that in mind,” Lucien laughed.  

Elain smiled as she took a bite of her food, and moaned, her eyes rolling back in delight. Lucien shuddered, taking a long sip from his glass of water. 

“Gods, Lucien, this is delicious! I didn’t know you could cook,” she said, eagerly devouring another mouthful. 

“I have had plenty of years to practice, my lady.” 

Elain nodded. She always forgot how old the fae around her were. She may be a fae herself now, but she was still in her twenties. It was hard to comprehend how the youthful male before her could be hundreds of years old. 

“How did you get here? The last I heard, Feyre said you were still with Vassa and Jurian.” 

“I was, for a while. But about two months ago, Hattie reached out to me. She wanted to see if there was any possibility of Tamlin and I reconciling. A lot has happened between us, but he gave me a chance when I had nowhere else to go, so I figured it was worth trying to help him find his way back to the male he was before …” Lucien trailed off. 

“Before he hurt my little sister, traded his court away, and caused Nesta and I to be drowned in a cauldron?”

Lucien looked down, choosing his next words carefully. He couldn’t justify Tamlin’s actions, he had hurt so many. Yet he also believed in the possibility of change, and he wished, so deeply, that his old friend could find a way to make things right.  

“Tamlin made some horrific choices, ones that will likely haunt this court for years to come, and they were inexcusable. But, I do hope that in time he can redeem himself.”

“Feyre believes he can change too.” 

“Really?” Lucien asked, his eyes sparkling with hope. 

“She and Rhys wouldn’t be trying to forge an alliance with him if they didn’t.” 

Lucien hummed in response. 

“Well, Tamlin and I are in the process of building trust. It’s not going perfectly, but helping him rebuild is hopefully a step in the right direction,” Lucien said. 

Elain nodded, letting the weight of his words settle. “It’s hard to watch someone you love hurt themselves and those around them. You’re a good friend,” she smiled faintly, then added, “I’m looking forward to seeing the grounds. It sounds like a lot of work, but my mind is already brimming with ideas.”

“Well, it’s getting late now but tomorrow I can show you the land we will be starting with, and we can start to draw up some plans.”

“That sounds great,” Elain replied, delicately placing the napkin from her lap onto the table.

As she rose to clear the empty dishes, Lucien also stood and moved towards them. For just a moment their hands brushed, sending a surge of electricity rushing through their bodies. Blushing, they pulled apart, laughing awkwardly, unable to meet each other's gaze.

“Would you like some help with the dishes?”  Elain asked, attempting to wipe her increasingly clammy hands on the back of her skirts undetected. 

“No, it’s okay. You must be exhausted from all your traveling.” 

“I am, rather. As long as you’re sure? I was hoping to get an early night.”

“Of course, my lady. Your room is the first on the left at the top of the stairs.”

After thanking Lucien once more for the incredible food, Elain wished him goodnight and began to climb the stairs. Once she reached the tranquility of her bedroom, she let out a shuddering breath. Leaning against the door, she closed her eyes, and did everything she could to ignore the growing warmth in her chest and the steady sound of Lucien’s heart beating from one floor down. 

Authors Note: I really hope you enjoyed the first chapter. A lot of it was setting the rest of the story up, but chapter two we will see more interaction between our beloved Elucien and we will also delve more into Elain's mysterious visions ✨ I hope to have chapter two ready to go very soon.

Beautiful dividers by @tsunami-of-tears 🌟