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Elain Archeron ached. The ache was for him. It had been for a while. The room he had offered her, the room that she had wanted had in turn turned into a prison of her own making. She could hear the summing of voices wrapping around her, but it all went over her head. The only thing she could hear or focus on was the vibration deep within her chest. The resonance of him was with her at all times. In the mornings and evenings. Even when she pleasured herself, the constant was the bond. There was no distraction from it.
That vibration had been a constant companion since she had been flushed out of the Cauldron. Her dignity stripped. Humanity stripped from her bones. Wet down to her marrow. It didn’t help that he was in proximity to her now.
For a time, she had managed to avoid him well enough. It had almost been easy; he was the sort of male to afford her the luxuries that were available to him. His scattering off was just right for his character. He hadn't even needed to voice it, she had understood it enough with his looks.
Male. Male. Male. Not a man. Not the humanity she so longed for when she couldn’t sleep. The way she knew how human relationships worked, but still the ways of the fae were too different or too many for her to understand it.
He was beautiful in the way mortal men hadn’t been for her. They had a more rugged, dirty way of appealing to her. No, fae males were much more beautiful in an ethereal way. She didn’t let it show, but it annoyed her.
He had tried talking to her during the Winter Solstice two years ago. She had promptly used her legs and tried to give him a soft smile, while she backed away from him. If she didn’t run from him, whatever would become of her? How could she trust something that felt like a curse at one time?
Was she so fickle then? Or was this the way of a human in a fae body? Never able to accept something or want something without changing her mind. Perhaps it was only her.
The fact was that she didn’t blame him for the position she was put in, but she blamed him at times for being a fae. For being a fae that was mated to her. Fifteen years hadn’t changed that. Could immortality be long enough to forgive herself for the feeling she felt within her chest when he was near? There was just uncertainty for her. It would have been so much easier if what was shared between them was like a husband and wife.
She had been to most of the Courts in Prythian now, been travelling with Nuala and Cerridwen to see what she could spend a lifetime exploring. It didn’t settle her. They were fine companions, true friends in the best sense of the word. But feeling the song of him at all times added nothing but longing for him.
“He isn’t a bad male, Elain.”
“I know, Feyre. I just.. thought - I know that he isn’t. But I don’t know if I’ll ever want someone to look at me like he looks at me.”
“Like what, Elain?”
“Like I’m something to be devoured.”
They had started giving up on it some years earlier. Elain guessed they had had enough with managing their own kid. They couldn’t lend her too much time now. It suited her fine. She wasn’t happy but there was much more of a sense of contentment within her. Seeing her sister running after a winged, terrorizing four-year-old had solidified it deep enough within her that she did not want a winged child that could fly away from her in that manner.
Lucien hadn’t even dared to look at her tonight. It was probably for the best. She wasn’t scared of the bond per se, not in the way Nesta had admitted to her that she had been. No, she didn’t look at it as her humanity had been ripped away from her. More than the choice of being able to choose a more human way for herself.
The bond wasn’t as bad as it had been in the beginning. It wasn’t urging her to undress in front of him, and throw herself at him. It urged her much more to befriend him. In the same manner an older grandmama would do with a suitable suitor.
This wasn’t even touching on the fact that she had seen it. Had seen it enough to know what could perchance pass her by. How precarious her own situation could turn, if she let her mouth run away from her.
It had been so hard at the start. Not saying too much, with all the possibilities in front of her. Not leading her friends and loved ones to what she deemed to be the right choices for their lives. No, she had much favoured her garden and baking much more.
She could hide away in the fact that she was doing what was considered normal for someone like her. Not wanting to make a fuss, she only brought fabric and sewed her dresses to occupy her time. Since she visited the Day Court, she had opted for the fabrics found there.
Azriel hadn’t accompanied her on her trips, but he had helped her carve out her own little place there. Without the watchful eyes of her family. She visited four or five times a month, spending the day away from the air of Velaris. Nothing else could settle her as much.
Since Day Court was one of the Solar Courts, she enjoyed the sunlight thoroughly. Much more than she was able to do in Velaris. Found a small beach that wasn’t visited by anyone, she opted to visit it each time she went. Without the pressure of being the sister of a High Lady, or Cursebreaker.
Feeling the sand between her toes, the sound of waves in her ears, and her body in the sea. It all seemed to call into something deeper within her. She loved to swim in the ocean, diving in ocean and looking for seaglass. She could pass hours just lounging in the waves, letting it all settle within her. Still, Velaris was her home, but this place called to her so.
Fifteen years had done nothing to quiet down the spectacle around Feyre, and Elain wanted to stay so long away from it. Day Court had been the perfect place for it. No one knew her there. She was safe to be cranky if she needed to. She didn’t, but she had the possibility of it.
Their food was light and just right to her taste. Avoiding people for four or five times a month was just enough to let the mask slip for these hours away. The only people she interacted with knew her food order, what type of silk she preferred to buy for her dresses. She had in a way found a subtle way to exist here, leaving quiet marks that she preferred.
“You should either reject it or accept it. Both of you can’t live in limbo like this, Elain.”
“I know. I'm sorry."
None of them meant anything negative by it. She had seen that clear enough in the possibilities in front of her. It was just that committing to one of them was closing off the possibilities of everything else.
She was locked in her own head, with her own choices. It was much easier to watch Feyre’s life, Nesta’s life, Azriel’s, Cassian’s, Rhysand’s, Amren or anyone else and pick what was right. But what was supposed to be right for her? Well, she hadn’t known. Even as a human, the possibilities in front of her after her father had gotten his fortune back were limitless.
It was too much. Someone laughed loudly next to her. Cassian then. In conversation with his two brothers. The roaring laughter should have filled her with a sense of belonging, but all it highlighted this evening was how she stood out on the outside of this group.
There was nothing wrong with this group, but she hadn’t picked them herself. Most of them were her friends because they were Feyre’s loyal friends. There was a difference, and it was stark. So very different from how her friendship had filled her life as a human.
Nesta gave a soft smile to one of her friends, Gwyn. She had joined them, and with it Elain had seen multiple possible futures. Hundreds of them. In all of them, Nesta and Gwyn were destined to be friends with such a strong bond that nothing could tear them apart. Elain longed for it.
She did not incline to join in on training. Not wanting to sweat, not wanting the pressure inside her skull as training made her get each time she had tried. And of course, this was Nesta’s domain. There was no wish at all to take that away from her. Azriel stared longingly over at Gwyn. It was apparent that both she and Nesta picked up on it, but nothing had unfolded between them. Yet.
Once, she had thought she could see him differently. Not as a brother, but as a husband. The possibilities she had seen did not offer up the life she had wished for herself. She would still be on the outskirts of Feyre’s family, and there would still be that something missing.
“Elain, Lucien is joining us again this time.”
“I suspected as much, Nesta.”
“You aren’t even going to say anything about it?”
“What would I say? You know my choice so far. I haven’t changed my mind.”
“You have a real shot at being happy. Don’t overthink it, dearest Elain.”
“He isn’t coming here to see me this time.”
Easier said than done because Elain had mastered the art of overthinking since she had been forcefully thrown out of the Cauldron. With nothing but time on her hands, what she had seen was easy to obsess over. She never mentioned it to her sisters; no, she tried to urge them on much more softly. A comment here, a look there. But again, it wasn’t her life to live.
When she looked over at him now, she could see the slightly tanned skin on him. He sat tall, at least when she looked at him now. His posture was always impeccable in the way that the Inner Circles often were much more relaxed and open. She could see the way he had grown up in just that, how his posture, even when he was in distress was good.
He shared the same sharp jaw as his brothers did. The few times she had seen Eris, she had seen the same jaw, the same set of eyes. In truth, the scar made Lucien much more striking. Instead of the beautiful many of the High Fae were, he was striking.
It set him apart enough that it made Elain feel a surge at times in her stomach when she looked at him. Crossing her hands, as she tried not to stare at him. He talked softly in hushed voices with Feyre; he was likely informed of her condition.
The ache within her body endured, like a spell never really quite fading. That was likely the only apt description of it. Looking at him, she knew the possibilities. Still, how could she commit herself to it?
His expression was so soft, unguarded as Feyre kept talking with him. She could have that. It was just beyond her reach. All of the possibilities she had seen had mattered to her, especially the ones with him. The way he was always choosing her.
All of the possibilities showed her that he was the one who valued a mating bond the highest. The male who saw her essence best. Who she felt at home with in her heart. Still, how could she be enough? That was one of the questions that kept swirling around in her head.
Not measuring up was like a tattoo on her wrist, almost as apparent as the blush she faked with cosmetics every morning. She wasn’t measuring up to her sisters. Not to her mate. Not to the life she herself wanted to live.
Many tears had been released over this. It would have been easier, more freeing for her to know the possibilities that could be her life. It would be easier to claim herself and her own heart if she hadn’t seen it already. He still hadn’t looked at her.
He wouldn’t, unless she took the first step. That was hard. It was much easier to retreat into her own sanctuary with cakes, lovely flowers, sewing, embroidery on said dresses or drinking a wine glass or two at night. When she had been truly lucky, she and Mor would go out to the theater. That was an easy retreat. Easier to watch other people’s misery play out in front of her, instead of focusing on her passiveness.
“Don’t you think it’s hard for him?”
“What about me? How would it be for me? I have the option of one male, in the whole of Prythian according to you all.”
“It isn’t like that, and you know it. You haven’t even tried to know him.”
“I’m sorry I don’t have a star-crossed romance like you and Feyre, Rhysand.”
No, there was no avoiding him now. She got the sense from the bond that he had given up, neither hoping or wishing for anything. Just letting her live her life and watch her from afar. Just true to his character. It made her want to scream. She wasn't strong enough, enough in control of her own life to take the steps he needed. It only made her feel even more inadequate.
The pull of the bond wasn’t as strong as when he had lived in Velaris. That had been excruciating. She had woken up in sweat, almost heaving in pain that he wasn’t sleeping next to her. As a human, she hadn’t thought it imaginable to be so intrinsically connected with someone you hadn’t chosen. But as a fae, she knew it all too well.
Rarely at the start was there a reprieve from feelings his emotions of longing, guilt, want and need towards her. Now, since he still visited the human lands often, it was muffled. It had been a reprieve in the start. A way to gather her thoughts away from the pulsing need he had within her.
As Mor entered and made a beeline for her, she felt relief. Not needing to sit alone again this night. Their friendship had been a reluctant one. They hadn’t much in common besides the fact that they both enjoyed theater and expensive fabric. But it had been enough, at least enough that Elain wasn’t miserable.
Mor had tried to be a bridge for her, to join her more with her family. She had understood enough when Elain had avoided her for months afterwards, and now there was a more tender understanding between them. But it wasn’t the same as if Mor was only her friend, instead of chosen by Feyre.
Mor started telling her about her latest visit to Viviane. How she had enjoyed herself with her friend, which theater they had seen twice together and which weren’t worth it. Elain had never been. Still, the horror of winter as a human sat too deep within her bones to even entertain the possibility of going there. Still, she liked to hear Mor talk about it. So unlike Velaris.
She looked slightly over at him again, and Mor continued her monologue about the play she had seen two times. She usually spoiled the entire thing for her, but now she was too sucked up in Lucien to pay too much attention on the finer points of the play. His broad shoulders captured her attention every time she looked at him.
He didn’t command the room, not in the way that she had seen him do in the endless possibilities. But he commanded her longing, at least it felt like that way. The warmth he carried with him every time he visited was what she could sense herself longing for in the long nights.
“Are you even paying attention, Elain? I just told you a major plot point, but instead you are looking at.. Oh, I see.”
Giving her a soft, gentle smile that reached her eyes, before Mor continued, “I’ll keep talking and you’ll keep staring.”
Lucien seemed sculpted out of the dreams she had pictured for herself as a young teen. Handsome enough to capture attention when he walked through places. She had seen enough of it during her years as a fae to acknowledge it. The red hair across his slightly tanned skin only made him more appealing, much more alluring.
“You could just talk to him, you know. He hasn’t ever been harsh towards me and I’ve said some atrocious things to him while I’ve been drunk,” Mor said.
Elain only offered her a forced smile and took her hand. “And leave you alone here by yourself? I wouldn’t relegate you alone to that faith.”
Mor gave her a soft laugh and a kiss on her cheek while she strolled over to fill her wine cup. While Elain most of the time preferred to drink a glass or two in peace or alone, Mor was much more of a social drunk. Another big difference between them.
As dinner was finished, it was time to exchange gifts. She hated that each year. It was just highlighting what these people thought they knew about her. Another thing for baking. Another thing for gardening. She contained more depths within her than those two things though she didn’t offer them up, so she probably couldn’t fault them for it.
Feyre got a sacred text from Rhysand, one that only mates could gift to each other. The disgusting smell that filled the air was enough for Elain to wish that the evening would soon end.
If she had to sit and take every breath and smell her sister and her mate. No, that wasn’t on her to-do list. Nesta got a brilliant gilded dagger from Gwyn; it had pink stones. It elicited loud laughter from both of them. A joke was shared between them regarding it; that much was clear. It ached within her, that subtle nagging feeling that both of her sisters had managed something that she hadn’t done.
She longed to share moments, inside jokes and to be seen in a way that wasn’t forced. By someone who didn’t just see her as someone’s sister.
Azriel got Cassian what he had gotten him the past ten years: dried beef and a “I’ll fix it for you” card. Elain didn’t wanna delve into what that meant, but Cassian loved it each year, so it clearly resonated between them.
She had gotten three romance novels from Nesta, not Sellyn Drake this time. Elain was a reader, though not as vicarious as Nesta. The pull of another life opening up on pages for her gave her much enjoyment. Feyre gifted her unlimited credit at the tailor near the bakery she preferred. The dresses were always stunning cuts, in colors other than the ones favoured by the inner circle. She had stared at one in the window these past months when she had been going on morning walks with Feyre. It was cerulean and had a matching jacket. She had been transfixed in a way.
As the night was drawing close, and one after one the people around her began to take their leave, she still hadn’t talked with Lucien. Hadn’t even dared to look at him from across the room when Gwyn had left, then Nesta and shortly after Mor and Cassian.
Now, only Feyre, Azriel, Lucien, and her was left. Feyre showed that she had no inclination to join Rhysand as he was trying to wrangle their child into bed for the third time that evening. Elain didn’t even feel tired, so there was no reason to go to bed yet. Lucien talked, though it wasn’t freely in the way that Feyre often did. It was much more measured.
They weren’t really discussing anything; most of them way too drunk to form coherent sentences. Elain enjoyed it. The drunker people got, the more relaxed she could be with them. Not having to hide her true self. They didn’t notice if Elain spaced out for some minutes. Azriel set a whiskey bottle so close to him, no one had dared touch it after the silent declaration.
As the conversation ebbed and flowed, she could feel the bond. The proximity he had to her now was great. Much greater than it had been since she saw him last. Vibrating deep within her, almost urging her to at least try to smell this night. She couldn’t. Not after how she had bolted from him two years ago.
When the horizon showed the sun in the distance, Elain knew that she had to try to let herself sleep. That she would be a wreck for weeks if she didn’t at least sleep for a few hours before she started the day. Wondering what lovely activity she would do the next day. Baking or preparing for gardening? Maybe she would give one of the romance novels that Nesta had given her as a gift a try. It would be quite a pleasure to read about someone else’s successful romantic life.
“I’ll have to go to sleep for a few hours now,” she said as she rose from the comfortable chair. “I wish you all a good night.”
As she said it, she could hear her inner voice thinking even her mate then? All of them replied, and she flittered out to her room.
The comfort of her room that usually lulled her in was now it hit her like a blow to her nose. Instead of giving her the comfort she craved, it only highlighted her loneliness. How she still had failed to really carve out a home for herself in Velaris after all.
Showing her the lonely single bed, the bookshelf with books not chosen by herself, and fabric strewn about on the floor. Her room was messy, but it wasn’t really lived in.
It instead held all of her unvoiced desires, the longing for a life that was hers. How much easier it would be if she wasn’t still afraid of her own reflection staring back at her with pointed ears and clearer skin.
Nesta had once told her that she had thought a lot about how to own her actions. How her actions or inactions were choices too.
It dawned on Elain, or, it had been for a while that she had to decide if she was going to continue down the road of inaction or take action on her desires and wants. She knew that the mating bond wasn’t guiding her thoughts and feelings in the way that she had feared in the start.
But still, it was so hard, having to open herself to the possibilities of what she had seen. What if it what happened now was actually something she hadn’t been shown? Or if she turned into an even worse version of herself? Could that even be possible?
Instead of overthinking, of rationalized to herself that it was easier to do nothing. To plan, perhaps next year. Trying to find any form for sleep was hard. She kept going over everything she had seen. What challenges she had seen that were possible in the future for her family. What could happen between them if they didn’t give each other enough place to breathe.
Tossing herself back and forth, it was all too much. She couldn’t let another year pass her by without at least voicing a smidge of what she felt on the inside. Another year to lay a strategy that she wasn’t too chickenshit to follow up on was just potential heartache in the future.
Trying to still her thoughts with counting sheep that didn’t want to jump, she got more frustrated by the minute.
No, she couldn’t let her life pass her by with her own inaction. So at the start of the morning, she hurried out of her bed, opened the door to her room and strode down to his.
The worst that could happen was that he said no. It was a possibility; she had seen it a few times. Not many, but it was there. When she had pushed him away for long enough, he had pushed her and every potential of them away. She couldn’t blame him for what she had seen in those lives.
As her feet carried her to his door, a soft sense of dread filled her. If she did this, there would be absolutely no way back. She had to own this. She could own this. She wanted to own this. To do this with him, if he wanted to.
Before she could be consumed with the dread she felt, she knocked on the door. Two rapt knocks. If he didn’t open the door, she would take it as a hint from the Cauldron or the Mother. This shouldn’t pass in this lifetime.
She looked down and saw her nightdress. Almost see through in pink thin silk. She hadn’t even thrown the matching thicker jacket over. This would send the wrong message. “Hi Lucien, it’s your harlot mate at your door. Are you available for a conversation of life’s many possibilities?” If it hadn’t been so absurd, she would have laughed about it.
She could hear him inside the room, and she was just about to bolt when he opened the door. The door only highlighted his height to her. Every lean muscle on his body was on showcase here.
Even if she wanted to look away, well, she didn’t really want to look away and she found finding his eyes way harder than she thought it would be. She could feel her face reddening when she finally met his gaze.
“Hi.”
Was that her brilliant plan? Opening up with a simple hi? She was doomed. Hadn’t the books she had read the last ten years given her any inspiration? Neither of them spoke, just stared on the other as Elain went over every other thing she could have opened with instead of a simple hi.
“Elain. Are you well?”
That particular sense of dread slowly crept up on her, but she continued, “Yes. Well, I think I am. Are you?”
“Yes?” he said, as he blinked at continued to look at her face. If she was blushing all over her body, she was thankful that she couldn’t at least see it.
“I was wondering if I could talk with you?”
“Oh, yeah. That we could do, Elain. Tomorrow then?”
She could feel him down the bond then. What he expected to come from a conversation between them now. A rejected mating bond and heartbreak. It was hard to look away from his body, in the way he owned it. The soft confidence about him.
“No. No, I mean now, Lucien.”
He gave her a strange glance, and to her shame, she could feel the horror blasting down the bond. As he let her in, she could smell him so clearly. She hungered to wake up to him next to her. To let the scent of them mingle.
“Lucien, I…” and as she turned around, she could see him waiting for the rejection. To allow her the peace of rejecting him thoroughly, and he steeled himself for it.
“I’m not here for that…”
Instead, she took those four steps in front of him. Feeling the warmth cascading off him in waves. So very unlike how the heat of a body had felt as a human. Shivers ran over her, total contrast to how she was actually feeling.
She had to do it now. Raising herself on her toes, since he was taller than her. It wasn’t strictly necessary, but it made it easier to kiss him and gauge his reaction. And possibly run if it all turned into a disaster.
For a slight moment, there was only the bond between them until their mouths met. She pressed her body against his, and deepened the kiss while she touched his chest. When she pulled away, to see if she had stepped over any possible limit he had, she saw his wide shocked eyes.
In slight shame, she stepped half a step back while she said, “Sorry, sorry. I thought this was a good idea.” As she was turning around to run from his room and him, he took her wrist and tugged her back. “Don’t leave, Elain.”
As their lips brushed together for the second time, she could feel it all. The relief within her, the certainty that it all would work out whichever way this went.
He met her
fervour
, kissing her hard as she almost clawed at him. He pushed her up against the wall, and their teeth clacked together in their frenzy.
Elain wanted his hands on her; the want within her was so loud and so wanting. She couldn’t even sense the bond between them in the moment. Lucien rushed the pace, and Elain was glad she let him. He pushed her loose hair back and held it softly as he took a knee between her thighs. He scattered her neck with soft kisses as she whimpered softly.
Lucien leaned in towards her, letting his breath caress her ear as he murmured, “I want you here when I wake up.” As he pulled back, she could see his soft, gentle gaze, the soft smile he bestowed upon her. Her chest tightened at the implication on what he had just said. In all of her seeing, she had never seen this happening.
She gave him a soft nod, before she captured his mouth with hers again. She was grinding softly against him, but not wanting to escalate it anymore than that for now. They had all the time in the world. As Lucien carried her into his bed, with caressing hands against her backside, she felt safe.
There was no mention of what had passed between them now, but Elain savoured in it. In the possibilities that could unfold in front of her and him. In learning to know him even more, who they could be to each other.
Before sleep claimed her, she laid in the crook of his neck and kissed him gently. “We’ll talk tomorrow, but it’s only good, I swear,” she said to him.
“I know,” he replied confidently. Sleep claimed them both.