Chapter Text
The first time they meet is in the mortal lands.
The knock on the door startled Elain, causing her to drop the wedding invitation she was writing. How strange. Nesta and her father were in town meeting a cartographer for an upcoming voyage. She had been looking forward to enjoying a rare moment of solitude in their new home.
Elain rose from the ornate wooden table and smoothed out her cream-colored dress. Even in the dim light of the room, the iron engagement ring seemed to sparkle as she lifted her hand towards the door. The middle Archeron sister took a deep breath. Hopefully it wasn’t that Thomas boy. Elain couldn’t put her finger on it, but she deeply disliked him.
The door creaked in protest as Elain pulled it towards her with two hands. A splinter pricked her skin, but she held her tongue. After all, it would be horribly rude to open the door to a guest while making a fuss over herself.
Standing in the doorway was a tall, tanned man with the loveliest red hair Elain had ever seen. It felt otherworldly, particularly with the top half held together in a braided bun. Elain absently drank in the sight of him, her eyes widening as they traveled to his ears adorned in earrings all the way to the very pointed tips.
There was a fae man in her doorway.
Elain gasped and covered her mouth. Why did Nesta insist on joining their father into town this morning? Why today of all days?
“The scars are ghastly, I know. But it’s rude to stare.”
“Scars?” Elain whispered. A mismatched pair of eyes looked at her full of amusement. One brown, one gold, both locked on her. A jagged, three-pronged scar cut through half off his face. It seemed to only heighten the hauntingly erotic nature of his features.
The urge to reach out and trace the scarred flesh flashed into her mind as her fingers twitched. Elain shoved it aside.
“May I come in?”
Everything she had ever been warned about the fae evaporated. Could they enter without invitation? The beast who stole Feyre certainly hadn’t been invited in. If only her younger sister was here. Feyre always knew how to survive.
But Elain was not Feyre. Elain was Elain.
“Of course, sir.” If she had been Feyre, she would not have stepped politely to the side and waved her arm in invitation. She would not have asked, “Would you like me to take your coat?”
“Trying to get me out of my clothes, Miss Archeron?”
Her heart began a quick, staccato beat inside her chest. Elain sputtered at the comment. Why had she been so stupid as to let this fae into the house? They were completely alone. If Nesta was here she would have clawed at his face until both sides matched once more. “I beg your pardon!”
“It was a joke, lady.” The redhead held his open palms up towards her. “Forgive me, I forget humans are more… conservative.”
“You say that like it’s a shortcoming.”
He flashed a devious grin in her direction. The cabin suddenly seemed warmer. What was wrong with her? As of late, Elain’s opinion on the fae had improved since Feyre moved above the wall to live with her high lord- a true fairytale romance. She was endlessly thrilled for her sister, but Feyre’s fortune did not erase a lifetime of fear. Still, she straightened her spine and painted a polite smile on her face. “Who are you?”
“A friend of your sister. I’m here with an invitation.”
Elain perked up. “From Feyre?”
“Yes. She’s marrying this month and has requested your attendance.” The male reached into the deep pockets of his very formfitting trousers. Elain tilted her head as his hand lifted back up towards her clutching a rolled-up piece of parchment. When she reached for it, her fingers brushed his. A shiver ran down her spine.
Was that how magic felt?
“How romantic.” Elain breathed, opening the invitation. Graysen would not allow her to attend. Privately, Elain felt a touch of relief. She was doing her best to remain open-minded about their neighbors above the wall for the sake of her sister, but the idea of going into their lands was terrifying.
A smile bloomed on his abnormally handsome face. “Can I count on your attendance?”
Elain bit her lip. She kept her brown eyes focused on the floor to keep herself from uncharacteristically ogling him. “Regrettably, I don’t believe you can. Please give me sister my deepest apologies.”
“Why not?”
The challenge in his voice made her shiver. He seemed disappointed, almost. Strange, considering they had never met. Stranger still that the thought of disappointing him made her throat feel tight. “Above the wall is dangerous. It’s no place for humans.”
“You would have the protection of the entire Spring Court. I would escort you myself.” The last part came out rushed, as if the words surprised him. “I would keep you safe.”
Oh, the overwhelming temptation at his words floored Elain. A private escort from a strong, handsome stranger to her sister’s royal wedding? How could she refuse? It was worrying how his presence seemed to make her rationality flee. Fae were terrifying. Powerful. This particular one was…
Oh dear. Elain took a breath to focus her attention. “That is very kind of you, sir. But I must decline.”
“Must you?” He took a half step towards her. His metal eye whirred as he slowly dropped his thoughtful gaze over her slim figure. It was nothing new. Men in town had been leering since her thirteenth birthday. Normally it made her feel certain of herself. Let Elain know where she stood in the interaction. Now, here, with his eyes studying her, Elain felt entirely at a loss for how to compose.
Goosebumps freckled her skin. There was something dangerous at play. Something at work she didn’t grasp. “Yes. I must.”
He clicked his tongue in disappointment. “A shame. What reason shall I give your sister for the decline?”
“My fiancée.” The words seemed to catch them both off guard. “He would not be comfortable with my presence there.”
The fae’s throat bobbed. “I see.”
“Please give Feyre my love and best wishes.”
“Of course, lady.” He made no move to leave, his strong arms crossed against his chest. A smatter of red hair peaked out from the low cut of his white tunic. Elain wondered how far down his body it trailed.
Oh no. Absolutely not. Her body had never betrayed her like it was doing now. From the moment his hand knocked on her door she had been entirely out of sorts. Elain was a master of pleasant interaction. It was her identity. Feyre was wild and brave. Nesta was intimidating and disciplined. Elain was kind and well-mannered.
Though not today, it seemed. Had he cast a spell over her? Maybe his metallic eye forced her to look at him with… indecency. It was shameful. A betrayal to her betrothed.
Elain summoned the spirit of Nesta to empower her. “Will you be leaving now?” It was meant to be sharp- a dismissal, but her disloyal voice cracked at the words.
“If you think that’s best.” His face flickered with indecision, then he opened his mouth. Elain got the impression it was a frequent occurrence. “Your sister lives in Prythian. Do you intend to avoid her lands all your life?”
Who asked such personal matters to a stranger? “I don’t think that’s your concern.”
“What you know of the fae is nonsense. Rumors and lies. With your sister marrying Tamlin, you should see what Spring Court is like for yourself.”
Elain had always dreamed of travel. Before she could stop herself, she whispered, “Describe it to me.”
His full lips curled into a soft smile. Elain could have sworn it brightened the entire estate. “Spring Court is one of the loveliest things Prythian has to offer. It breathes in a state of constant bloom- a land of endless flowers of every shade. Gardens grow within the very architecture itself. There is no greater beauty in Prythian than the roses of Spring- though I feel their reputation may be challenged if you step among them.”
Elain’s blush traveled to her very toes. “I was warned that fae have silver tongues.”
“Mm, that may hold true. Other things, however, are entirely human fabrications.” He took her hand in his much larger one. It felt like sunlight against her flesh as he ran his thumb across the back of her knuckles. “Your rumors around iron, for example.”
He lifted their joined palms up to that rakish mouth and pressed a tender kiss against the back of her hand. The cold metal of her ring seemed to traitorously singe with heat as his lips grazed over the iron. He held them like that for a long moment, savoring the feel of her against his embrace.
Elain felt her eyes betray her as they fluttered shut, savoring the warmth of him against her skin. Lightning struck between her thighs-the feeling entirely alien and frightening. Yet she remained exactly where she stood as she was, an invisible rope anchoring her. When he finally lifted her hand away from the heat of his embrace, he held it just a moment too long before releasing it.
“Until we meet again, Miss Archeron.” With a deep bow he stepped back outside. Elain flew to the door to slam it shut, panting. It hadn’t occurred to correct him that she was to be addressed as ‘Mrs. Nolan’. Elain gripped the kitchen countertops until her knuckles turned white. Shame burned through her blood. Damn that fae man. It must have been his magic. All she had heard since childhood were cautionary tales regarding their tricks. Horror stories of women being taken in the middle of the night and corrupted by their males.
Elain loved Graysen with her entire being. Since their courtship she had had not so much as thrown a second glance at another man. She took pride in her propriety as a proper lady should. That so-called friend of Feyre’s rattled her. A simple delivering of a wedding invitation should not have provoked any of that. He must have used magic, must have done something to affect her. He was dangerous, Elain decided. Predatory. Why else would he be so bold as to ignore her fiancée? To go so far as to kiss her hand when he left?
Elain let out a long breath. She screwed her eyes closed and fiddled with her ring. There was something so dangerous about the fae. So unnatural. Her decision to avoid Feyre’s wedding was the only thing she had done right since that creature entered her home. She would never be in such a position again, Elain vowed. Nothing good would come from dalliances with the fae.
Especially that man. Had she gotten his name, Elain would have cursed it.
~~~
Three Years Later
Lucien Vanserra had a tendency to overdo it.
The scar he bore on his face was physical proof. Knowing when to stop was not in his bag of many tricks. Though, as Nyx’s wails cut through the air, Lucien privately conceded that he should have switched to water some time ago.
“He’s teething.” Feyre explained tiredly, bouncing her son on her hips. “It hurts him.”
“It hurts all of us.” Cassian piped up from his seat on the couch, an ale in one hand and his other on Nesta’s knee.
Nesta kicked the male earning her a wail that riveled Nyx’s. Privately, Lucien felt a sting of jealousy at the toddler. At least he was able to kick and scream at his pain. After enduring yet another solstice of Elain avoiding him and his gift (tulip seeds from the continent, the ones her father had spoke of her wanting to see) Lucien was tempted to match Nyx’s red face. It hurt. Her cold shoulder made him ache. Anger he could work with, but indifference? It offered nothing to learn from. No clues how to fix himself.
Was this how he would be forced to endure immortality? Entirely exiled, infuriatingly isolated? No matter how many times Feyre would insist on him coming here every year to celebrate with family, Lucien knew that he did not quality that distinction. Rhysand didn’t trust him fully after everything with Tamlin. Feyre insisted that he was the first and truest friend she’d made in Prythian, but she never bothered to gift him anything beyond an invitation. And Elain…
Despite having long ago hit his limit, Lucien poured himself another glass of Autumn Court whiskey.
The night continued in the same drab manner it always did. Why did he keep coming to these? All they ever did was make him feel worse.
From far off in the corner, Elain silently glided through the room before stepping into the kitchen. Every single cell in his body roared at him to follow her. She was his mate. The Mother herself had sown the fabrics of their destiny into a shared cloth. He had been born to love her, his arms a creation of the Cauldron itself to give her a place to safely lay.
It had never been easy with Elain. It had always been jarring, so off-putting and sudden. Even in the Mortal Lands her warm brown eyes and sweet lips had caught him entirely off guard that cool afternoon.
At the time he couldn’t understand it. She was a human woman- Feyre’s very engaged sister for Cauldron’s sake. Lucien had no business sauntering in there and panting after her. He had been entirely too bold. He was prone to theatrics, of course. His rakish reputation was if anything underreported. But the moment Lucien saw Elain, something animalistic pushed him in her direction.
She had been radiant that day. The most beautiful bride, even if she was another male’s. The ring on her finger provoked far more outrage than it had right to. He did not know that female, that very human woman.
That iron ring on her hand felt like a personal offense. A vow for her, a challenge for Lucien. The game had shifted from fun to dangerous when he realized he had not been able to let go of her soft palm.
Even when she was human, Elain Archeron had been his mate.
Not that the realization did him any good. The moment she was paraded in front of Hybern and thrown into that cauldron it was over for Lucien. How could he ever forgive himself for his role? His heart had exploded in pieces the moment he saw Elain in that torn, soiled nightgown. His legs shook alongside her trembling bottom lip as he watched her silent tears. It was unbearable. Why would someone torment such a soft female with such brutal cruelty? Then Elain was drowned, Lucien’s heart sank with her, and she was spit out remade and regretful.
“You’re my mate.” Tumbled out, more to himself than her. Then shame that the Night Court stole her from him. That he failed to save her- twice. That it had been for her and not Jesminda whom his powers rose to life to save. That now he had neither.
It had never seemed to improve. Elain hated him. The sweetest female in Prythian soured in his presence. It was another sharp pain in a lifetime full of them. You betrayed us.
Maybe another drink wouldn’t hurt. No one had ever accused Lucien Vanserra of moderation.
A punch to the shoulder knocked him out of his inner spiral. Feyre had a playful smile on her face that did not meet her eyes. “What are you thinking about?”
“A trade issue in Dawn.” The lie came so easily he almost believed it himself.
“Right. Nothing says Solstice celebration like politics.”
“I’m sure Dawn would agree.”
“You’re so full of shit.”
Talking about his mate’s avoidance to her sister sounded as appealing as another 20 lashings on his back. Feyre had never been able to read the room, though in all fairness most of her life she hadn’t been able to read anything at all. All three sisters had endured so much in such short lives. There was a polish the fae possessed that came from immortality, an airiness that wafted in conversation. Feyre’s tongue still had that human bluntness.
Truthfully, it was one of his favorite traits of Feyre’s, but not when she was putting the heat on him. Not on a day of mandatory mirth and forced family.
“How have things been with Nesta?”
It was now Feyre’s turn to look away in discomfort. “Fine, I guess.”
“Eloquent.”
“It’s just, now I owe Nesta everything. I’m used to…”
“Being the one who gives it all?”
Feyre gave a quick, silent bob of her head. Her eyes searched the room with confidence of the huntress she was until they landed on the bar. “Want to do a shot together?”
It never was just one shot.
As the night went on, Lucien found himself far drunker than he intended to get when he was preparing for the party. It was supposed to be a quick appearance. Minimal time for minimal hurt. He just needed to get a glimpse of his mate, who would look at anything else but him to, to…? To what? Elain shouldered every look. Shrank at every word. Balked at every gift. Time and time again she demonstrated her rejection of him.
Elain was beyond lovely. There was a warmth in her that was more captivating than any flame he had ever gazed upon. It was the talk of Prythian. Every court whispered of the Archeron sister with a face that could bring kings to their knees. Lucien had been handsome once, sure, but now? His face bore the crime of his tongue. He was mutilated. Disfigured. Metal existed where flesh had been. To have a mate with such supernal beauty was a personal offence. Particularly when every male in the room constantly leered in her direction and Lucien could do nothing but smell the smoke curling from his clenched fists.
The Mother had a wicked sense of humor.
While Feyre’s friendship could be fickle, as a drinking partner she absolutely excelled. That first Calanmai when she’d drunk the goblet of fae wine in spite set the tone for their adventures in ale together. Perhaps it was the shared experience of growing up as the youngest sibling, but when Feyre and Lucien drank it was competitive. Fun, sure, but there was an element of challenge to it.
Both seem to come out on the bottom when the whistling of morning doves began to cut through the air. The late night had spilled into the suggestion of a new day.
“Can you believe those fucking birds?” Feyre scoffed, her eyes bloodshot but her smile bright.
“Is that you conceding defeat?” Lucien yawned, stretching from the couch he lay on. An empty bottle of wine rolled on the floor, but neither reached for it.
“In your dreams.” Feyre stood shakily. She eyed a glass decanter on the bar with determination. Sniffling noises drifted into the room. Feyre spun around with wide eyes and cursed. “Shit, Nyx is fussing.”
“Convenient.” Lucien drawled with a satisfied smirk.
Feyre rolled her eyes and started towards her son. “You know where the guest room is. Don’t even think about winnowing. I don’t want you freezing to death in Winter because your drunk ass tried to sneak out to avoid Elain.”
Sometimes when Lucien looked at Feyre he could barely see the traces of the human girl he had met in Spring. Other times she was so similarly irritating that he wished he could still feed her berries and dump her in a meadow for a few hours to give himself peace.
The thought cheered him up as he began his trek upstairs. Even with his flame warming him, the Night Court was utterly freezing. Lucien wondered how anyone could stand it, especially in the winter. He flicked his wrist to ignite the fire in the guest room Feyre had set aside for him. How did Elain manage to keep warm on frigid nights like this? Did the servants summon a flame for her, or did she prefer to do it herself?
Lucien frowned. Why did he do this to himself? All night she had avoided him yet here he was ruminating on nonsense. The bond made him foolish. Did Elain ever catch herself in passing wondering about his own domestic habits? Had she ever wondered how he took his tea or what he did before bed?
He was doing it again.
Lucien took the hand of consumption and let it walk him to rest. As his eyes drooped, the emissary welcomed the silence of the abyss.
Sleep found him quickly.
Lucien found that these days he rarely dreamed. Yet now, nestled in Night, he mind conjured a beach. The shoreline was battered. Debris littered the sand as the swell began to recede back into the pulsing tides.
Lucien walked the shore in his favorite leather riding boots. The sand squished beneath them. War horns blared in the distance; their song only interrupted by the occasional crack of rolling thunder.
The entire shore was caked in wreckage. Hundreds of dead fish lay against the wet grey of the sand. Lucien surveyed the dreamscape with a bated breath. Whatever had happened here brought the entire ocean onto land in its rage.
Off in the swells of the roaring tide, a ship was sinking. The hull was cracked in half, the sails beginning to meet the water as it was pulled down. The faded white paint of the words The Elain flashed into view as waves crashed against the wood.
Lucien took a sharp breath. He had not set eyes on that ship since it sailed it into Hybern. Shaken, he began to walk towards the surf in its direction. A loud splash broke his trance. The emissary glanced down to see his prized leather boot ankle-deep in a shallow puddle of saltwater. A large silver fish flopped in distress while splashing water around itself in a panic.
“Don’t just leave it in the sand!”
Even in the dream, Elain’s sweet voice made him stop what he was doing to listen. Lucien whipped around to see Elain standing behind him. Her honey-blonde curls were whipped by wind around her face. A smear of dried sand covered one cheek as she stared at him with those brown eyes that haunted his deepest fantasies. Now, in the safety of his subconscious, he drank in her appearance freely. She wore a nightgown far too thin for the cold of the coast. Mud caked the lace at the bottom of the fabric and her bare feet matched.
Lucien sank into a squat and grabbed the animal by its tail just as he had done so many times as a boy. He rose up and walked it back to the water, his fingers loosening around its scales as it wiggled to salvation.
“Oh, thank you! I’ve been trying to help them all day but there’s so many.”
Lucien tried to answer her with something suave but found himself bowing his head in silence. He never seemed to be able to function properly in her presence.
“Will you help me? I can’t save them all myself.”
Lucien nodded, his throat tight. “What happened?”
Elain scrunched her nose and frowned deeply. “There isn’t time to talk. They need our help.”
“Alright.” She was acknowledging him. Talking to him. Lucien wasn’t going to push his luck. They walked side by side along the wrecked shoreline. Every time a surviving fish came into view, Elain let out a horrified gasp. It wasn’t until the creatures slipped into safety beneath the water that her shoulders would sag in relief.
Wind whistled around them as they continued. Thick droplets of rain began to trickle from the dark clouds that blotted the grey sky. Lucien stared at her in concern. “Are you cold, lady?”
“The rain will be good for the fish. The water will give them time for us to save them.” Elain craned her neck to look further down the shore as if she could see every single displaced creature in need of rescue.
“A stroke of luck for the fish, of course. But you’re shivering.”
“I’ve been freezing since the Cauldron.”
The tide of guilt rising in Lucien rivaled the ocean itself. But this was his dream. He would be damned if Elain endured a single moment of discomfort in his domain. The emissary shrugged his cobalt coat off his shoulders and stepped closer to her. Before she could register his actions, the jacket was slid around her body protectively. Elain stopped in her tracks, her fawn eyes suddenly owlish. Undeterred, Lucien brought his hands to his hair to tug out the leather strap and hold it out to her. “Let me take care of you.”
He meant it as an order, but his voice wobbled with plea. Dream or not, Lucien couldn’t bear to see her in pain. Slowly, Elain opened her palm to accept the leather strap. Her fist closed around the tie and she shut her eyes. Lucien lifted a shaking hand to her face. His thumb brushed her cheek as she sighed into his touch.
Elain’s eyes snapped open violently, the warm brown gone. In its place was white haze. Lucien stared at her in horror. “Elain?”
“You need to find me. Look.” She broke free from his embrace and turned to the sea. She lifted her delicate finger to The Elain giving its final breath as it sank down into the churn of the sea.
Lucien launched to grab her, his hands instead grabbing cotton sheets as he roared awake. His heart pounded in his chest like a caged animal. The bond that lay wrapped around his heart pulsed anxiously in distress. Something was wrong. Something was so very, very wrong.
The only coherent thought he had before sprinting out the room was pants. He threw his trousers on wildly, thrashing his foot through the fabric as sweat poured from his palms. The golden chord that tied their souls together beckoned him to her as he flew down the steps taking them three at a time.
When he came upon her bedroom door, Lucien cleaved it open with his magic. No ward could stop him from reaching his mate as Elain’s fear exploded through their bond. He landed inside her bedroom in a primal panic. His hands were drawn into fists and a growl rumbled in his throat.
Sitting up straight in her bed caught in a tangle of silk sheets was Elain with her palms spread wide. Her large eyes were open and unseeing. White filled where brown belonged. Utter terror gripped her expression. “Lucien- help me. Please!”
“I’m here, Elain.” He wasted no time sliding next to her on top of the bed. He grasped her floating hands, flinching at the freeze as he clutched them tightly. “Elain, please, talk to me.”
“The baby.” A shudder bolted down his spine at her words. “Lucien, he’s coming for the baby.”
Pure, feral male rage exploded in his chest. The mating bond roared. Danger was coming for his mate, his pregnant mate. He had to defend her. Protect her. Hide her away where no one could hurt her. Lucien grasped at his mind for logic to anchor him amid an onslaught of emotion. He clung to reason. “Elain, Nyx is fine.”
“Not Nyx.” The panic in her voice rose another octave. Whatever she was seeing with those opaque eyes chilled his blood. “The baby.”
“What?”
“Lucien, please.” Elain’s pleading became hysteric. “He’s coming- he’s going to take our baby.”
They had never kissed- had never so much as held hands. He hadn’t touched her since she was drenched in Cauldron water and shaking in his arms. There was no way it was possible. It defied reality, defied reason. Yet the words made him ache with protection. The beast Lucien kept at bay was snarling and snapping, pulling against the leash he had created for her comfort.
Lucien clutched her against him, rocking them both back and forth. His bones ground to dust with restraint as he choked on her pleas. He was entirely lost and utterly useless. What kind of male couldn’t help his own mate? “No one is going to take anything from you. I won’t let that happen.”
“We have to hide- we must!”
An involuntary shudder rode his spine. He curled his arms around Elain and crushed her against him. With a kiss he pressed to the top of her hair, he opened the bond between them fully, feeling the crush of her fear slam into his heart. Dread pooled in his gut as the hair on his neck stood up. He felt it- the invisible predator circling, growing closer with every second they remained here. Elain was in danger. Something was coming for his mate.
“Elain.” His eyes were screwed so tightly shut that they burned. He had to protect her. Shieled her .
“Lucien, you said you would keep me safe. Take me home, please.”
Home. His resolve crumbled at the crack of her voice.
The whirl of a winnow echoed through the room as they vanished out of Night.