temperedink

Azriel was the supposed spymaster, but to Lucien, Elain was always the bigger mystery. To any moderately observant individual, Azriel was an open book. As much as he tried to hide who he really was, it was this very attempt at suppression that made it all the more obvious when his anger burst out of him in torrential waves. Elain, on the other hand, had no such outbursts. Through the mating bond, Lucien could sense some things: that she was unhappy, that she longed for more than tending to her little garden in the pitiful soil of the Night Court. By the Cauldron, Lucien could say similar things about himself. He longed for more than just being the Inner Circle's lackey. But so long as they held their mating bond over his head, he had to duck his head and obey.

But Elain's real personality still remained hidden behind thorny iron gates. Lucien would've never imagined his mate being so...docile, and he knew Elain had barely given him a glimpse of her true self. Despite what Feyre and Nesta said, he couldn't believe their descriptions of her. Though at least part of what Nesta had said rang true to him: that she had once loved parties. In that way, she and Lucien were similar.

These days, it was hard to enjoy anything knowing his mate still wanted nothing to do with him, Tamlin was still miserable, the Spring Court was still in shambles, Beron was still alive and kicking, and Feyre still treated him like her enemy. His way of life had really collapsed in the span of a few months. He'd already had to rebuild his life once, when he'd escaped Autumn. Now he had to do it again, in a place he clearly did not belong. Seriously. No one here even knew how to clean their wings. It took all of Lucien's self control not to dump Day Court Wing Cleaning Serum on the bat boys' desks.

But today, everything was about to change. Because Lucien was walking into the Night Court palace to give Rhysand his weekly report when Elain seemingly apparated in front of him. It took all of Lucien's restraint not to jump and scream. Faeries took years to master the art of silence. Despite being human for 24 years, it hardly took Elain any time at all.

"Elain," Lucien croaked like some lovesick idiot. You don't even know her, and she doesn't even like you, he told himself, but it was no use. His mating bond was singing a romance song. She looked up at him silently, her big brown eyes glowing a brilliant bronze in the light of the sun coming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Fuck. She was so fucking beautiful. Lucien silently cursed as he felt his body react.

She just continued to stare at him for a few moments before she finally said, "Lucien." And lord if he didn't damn near drop to his knees. No one told him a mating bond would be so...painful. "Can I help you?" Lucien managed to get out. Please say yes please say yes please say yes-

"Yes. I need to touch you."

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Lucien's mind went blank. He stared at her like an idiot for Cauldron knew how long before he finally had presence of mind enough to gurgle, "Touch - me?"

"Yes," Elain said, like it was the most normal thing in the world and like Lucien's entire body wasn't lit up like lightning. She then proceeded to close the distance between them and grab his hands with her own.

Rough- her hands were riddled with scars and callouses. Lucien turned her hands over to inspect them, wincing at one particularly brutal cut slicing across the center of her right palm. He carefully ran his thumb over it, feeling the ridges of it. Gardening. So she hadn't worn his gloves. He felt something painful twinge in his chest, combined with the irrational urge to destroy whoever hurt her- in this case, a couple of thorny plants.

He looked back at her face to find her eyes closed, as though she were concentrating deeply on something. Not wanting to disturb her, Lucien kept quiet.

She remained like that for several minutes before she opened her eyes and stared at him. "He must swim," she said, as though this made complete sense. Lucien nodded, going along with it. She must have had a vision. "What do we need to do?" he enquired.

"We must see your friend," Elain said. "Go speak to Rhysand about it," she ordered.

"Which friend?" Lucien asked. Elain smiled ever so slightly. "The one my sister once loved, of course."

Tamlin.

"Your wish is my command, Lady Elain."

After convincing Rhysand to let Elain come with him (ridiculous that a grown woman has to ask for permission), Lucien met up with Elain in the hallway. She had already gotten dressed, wearing a thin lavender chiffon dress with butterfly sleeves that flowed to her knees. She had paired it with a beige sun hat, a silver leaf choker, and earrings in the shape of tulips. She had a bright smile on her face. This caught Lucien off guard; he hadn't seen such joy on her face since she was a human. Lucien didn't know if Elain even remembered that moment, what with Tamlin's magic and all.

Elain offered her arm in silent expectation. Lucien linked his arm with hers and together they winnowed. Normally, winnowing directly between courts was impossible due to magical barriers, but since Tamlin hadn't been doing much ruling the barriers had collapsed.

Spring looked as terrible as it was the last time Lucien was here. Withered leaves, the land once vibrant was now barren. The bright red roses were nothing but thorns. Elain knelt down and picked one of them up. The tang of iron assaulted Lucien's senses as Elain's fingers closed around the thorns. Instinctively, Lucien grabbed Elain's wrist and opened her palm, grabbing the stem and throwing it away.

"Why would you do that?" Lucien hissed, all propriety forgotten. Elain stared at her hand, looking mildly intrigued, as the cut slowly closed with her rapid Fae healing. "Because," Elain said simply.

"You don't have to hurt yourself to prove you're doing something worthwhile," Lucien said, internally cursing the night court for making her feel useless.

Elain's eyes flashed and her mouth pursed as she glared at Lucien with rage. "I don't need your protection," she snapped. Lucien rolled his eyes. "Retract those claws, sweetheart. All I said is don't hurt yourself for no reason."

Elain walked up to Lucien and tried to shove him. She had a surprising amount of strength, but Lucien still didn't budge. "What, you think I can't handle a little scratch?"

"Did I say that?" Lucien countered. "But just because you can doesn't mean you should do stupid shit just to get hurt."

Elain looked as though she was ready to fight, but then she sighed and her shoulders slumped. "You're right," she muttered. Lucien cringed. "This is about the Inner Circle, right? They kept you trapped in there, not allowed to do anything."

Elain nodded wordlessly. Lucien held his palms out in supplication. "I'm not them, ok?" he pleaded. "They don't respect me either."

Elain seemed to consider that for a moment before continuing to walk towards the manor that now looked more like a haunted house Lucien used to play in during Samhain. Lucien braced himself. He never knew which Tamlin he was going to get: the depressed, moping one or the raging asshole. Personally, Lucien preferred the ass; at least he had some fight in him.

"Be careful. Tamlin is...volatile," Lucien warned Elain.

"I know," Elain said. Lucien nodded and opened the door, which creaked loudly. Somehow, the house was the only place filled with nature. Vines grew over the walls, and Venus fly traps grew from cracks in the tiles. Lucien sighed. He sensed him in Feyre's old bedroom. The depressed, moping one then.

"Get out of there," Lucien ordered as he rushed up the stairs to find Tamlin. Lucien always had to suppress the urge to wince when he saw Tamlin now. He used to be so strong, both magically and physically. He could probably lift two Luciens in his prime. Now, Lucien could drag him off of Feyre's bed and lift him as they went down the stairs. His arms weren't thin, exactly, but they looked...ordinary. His hair was stringy and matted. His bright green eyes were now dull and lifeless.

"Sorry for the smell," Lucien said to Elain. She waved him off. "There are more pressing issues at hand," she said. Like the gigantic elephant High Lord in the room.

Tamlin looked from Lucien to Elain, chuckling. "At least one of us found their mate," he said bitterly. Lucien tried to be patient with Tamlin, but honestly he had very little left. He opened his mouth to say something that would probably earn him a slap when a cool hand clapped over his mouth. Lucien stopped breathing. Elain's hand smelled like jasmine and rich earth...like she was nature itself. He could focus on nothing but her hand, and nearly groaned when she pulled it away.

"I had a vision of Spring," Elain said. "I need you to listen to me, High Lord."

Tamlin shook his head. "No one has called me a High Lord in a year."

Elain raised a brow. "You are a High Lord, are you not?"

Tamlin let out another self-deprecating laugh. "Haven't you looked around? I'm the High Lord of nothing."

"Not if you listen to me," Elain said. To Lucien's utter shock, Tamlin stood up. He still towered over Lucien, despite him being rather tall himself. It was easy to forget when he was mostly on the ground these days. "So you'll listen to her, but not me?" Lucien demanded. Elain smirked at Lucien. "Even you will listen to me where you listen to no one else, Lucien," she countered. Lucien's jaw dropped. She was teasing him! That's not something you do with someone you hate!

Tamlin grinned. "I've never seen Lucien speechless like that," he noted. That snapped Lucien out of his trance, and he rolled his eyes at Tamlin. "I've seen you speechless plenty of times, Tam," Lucien grumbled. Tamlin and Elain both snickered at that.

Lucien raised a brow when Elain began to turn them into the forest. "Do you know where you're going?" he asked cautiously. Elain nodded. "The vision showed me the path," she said. She turned to him. "For some reason, the visions are always clearer when I'm closer to you."

"Probably the mating bond strengthening your magic," Lucien said. Elain hummed in agreement. She navigated the forest with the ease who had been here a thousand times before, which was astonishing. Soon, Lucien began to recognize the path they were taking.

"Wait, this takes us to the-" his voice trailed off as Elain led them directly to a glittery pool in the clearing.

"The Pool of Starlight," Tamlin said. He stared at it, his expression showing conflicting emotions. "Why are we here?"

As though drawn by its magic, Lucien and Tamlin both walked closer. They stood by the edge of the pool, staring at the beautiful depths, swirls of pink, blue, and purple visible within its waters. "Last time I was here was with Feyre," Tamlin murmured. Lucien sighed. "They say if you drink the water, you shall live happily till your last breath." He shook his head. "The pool won't let you drink from it though; otherwise everyone would try it."

"Try again," Elain said, and to Lucien's astonishment, she shoved Tamlin, who only gets out a surprised grunt before he's submerged in the water.

Lucien chortled when Tamlin resurfaced, soaking wet. The pool had cleaned his face, and he suddenly looked a lot brighter.

“This pool isn’t just starlight,” Elain said. “It’s where the Spring Court was born. High Lords can draw lots of power from this.”

“The Mother told you that?” Lucien said, filled with wonder. Elain nodded. “Let’s just let him marinate in there for a week, then,” Lucien quipped. Elain placed a hand under her chin thoughtfully. “That actually might work,” she mused.

Lucien stared at the bark of the trees, which had been decaying, as pieces rose off the forest floor and found their places, the color growing a richer brown, the sounds of birds and insects becoming louder. He grinned at Elain. "I can't believe I didn't think of this before," he said.

Elain shrugged, smiling. "You just needed another set of eyes," she replied.

"WILL YOU TWO JUST KISS ALREADY?" Tamlin bellowed from the pool. Lucien and Elain both jumped, staring at Tamlin. "Is this how you felt with me and Feyre, Lucien? I'm so sorry."