Note: Throughout A Court of Thorns and Roses Feyre mentioned a couple of flowers she'd painted in their old house near the woods. Feyre's night sky and Nesta's flames were quite obviously linked with their personality, fate and mate in the books. For Elain however, it was a bit less obvious. It might be that Sarah J Maas just picked a couple of random pretty flowers or the flowers Elain liked, but how much more fun would it be if they were actually chosen because of their meaning.
I made a ficlet for each flower mentioned and although they're all AU's, the floriographical meaning of the flowers might be used in the upcoming novella's.

Note: I didn't just use the Victorian Floriography meaning of the flowers, it's a combination of all folklores and meanings I found while browsing the internet

Down in a green and shady bed,

A modest violet grew,

Its stalk was bent, it hung its head,

As if to hide from view.

And yet it was a lovely flower,

Its colours bright and fair;

It might have graced a rosy bower,

Instead of hiding there,

Yet there it was content to bloom,

In modest tints arrayed;

And there diffused its sweet perfume,

Within the silent shade.

Then let me to the valley go,

This pretty flower to see;

That I may also learn to grow

In sweet humility.

-Jane Taylor

For a former son of the Autumn Court and an apparent heir to the Day Court Lucien Vanserra could neither connect with the Autumn Court's fiery-ness and passion nor with the cool and collected air the Day Court's inhabitants exuded.

Centuries of mourning his past lover, playing emissary and building an increasingly thicker wall around his heart as the tensions between him and his former liege and friend Tamlin heightened, had left him emotionally exhausted.

'Lucien, may I come in?'
He hummed in agreement as he turned another page of his book.
His mother came in with a graceful weightlessness she possessed ever since leaving Beron.
'I've heard that your last four sessions with Helion haven't been successful. Is there something distracting you? Something I can help with perhaps? I know that we haven't spent much time the last couple of centuries but I really want to make up for that.'

'It's nothing you can help with. Magic just hasn't been my strongest asset. Although a part of that was obviously due to the fact that a part of my magic had been locked off to prevent me from discovering or revealing my parentage.'
His mother pouted at the obvious stab.
'I've never really tried to become better at magic before and now it's as if I have to train a muscle that I've never used before.'

'That's not all. You're lonely here. I can see that. You only know Helion, me and the servants. You haven't tried to approach anyone else.'
'I haven't been raised to be a High Lord. Of all people inside this castle I'm currently the least equipped to be the heir.'

Lucien had never been an active player in his own life. Because of his weaker magical ability he hadn't been able to compete for the crown in the Autumn Court. Then his father had ended his love life for him and when he arrived at the Spring Court Tamlin had immediately put him into the position of emissary and every time Lucien didn't support Tamlin he got punished for it. And now he just had to become the best possible heir for the Day Court? He didn't even know how to stand his ground should his life depend on it. How could one so damaged and weak ever make for a strong leader?

'Do you want us to invite Tamlin?'
'No! No, a High Lord should remain in his court. That's what he has emissaries for', Lucien explained calmly after his outburst.
'Wasn't there anyone else?'
'No, last I heard, Andras had left for the human lands in an attempt to find someone to break the curse. He was the only other one, safe for the servants.'
Because everyone else had left because of Tamlin's mood swings.

'If you can't enjoy yourself and connect with someone within these lands, maybe you should take a break from it all?'
'How?'
'I've heard the human lands are particularly beautiful this time of year.'
'What should I do there? They fear us.'
'That's what glamour is for. Nobody knows you and nobody expects anything of you there. Besides, when's the last time you've had a break?'
Forever.
'I'll think about it.'

His mother left the room and he went back to his book. For the last couple of weeks he'd been dreaming about violets in all imaginable shapes and colours. He'd consulted every book there was to find about flowers in Helion's private libraries but they all said different things. Since it was impossible for them all to be true, there was no way of finding out what they meant.

He sighed and leaned back in his chair. The human lands? It might not be that bad. Glancing around his room, the walls definitely seemed closer than the day before.

The town was lit by thousands of big potted candles and torches. Hundreds of garlands decorated the buildings and hung from dozens of poles around the town square where a big bonfire was burning brightly.
He seemed to have picked out the right night to visit the human town.

'Violet garland?' A brown haired girl offered him a crown of purple violets.
'Thanks, I guess?'
'Not from around here, sir? I struggle to place your accent.'
'I'm just passing through, I've been travelling.'
'Well, you've picked the right time to do so. We're celebrating the coming of spring, since they're one of the first flowers to grow, we have them in abundance. And it's befitting to wear a violet garland on a night of heavy drinking.'
'And why is that?'
'It is known for preventing dizziness, don't you know that? And of course, a lot of our girls are coming of age this year so they can use an extra lucky charm to find themselves husbands.'
'I guess so. It sure is a lot of expectations for such a frail little flower.'
'Never underestimate small delicate things', she smiled deviously. Another girl appeared and took her by the elbow. The brunette gave him another smile before disappearing into the night.

It couldn't be a coincidence that he'd dreamt about violets and ended up going to a place where they were in abundance. On a set of wooden tables, wooden cups and bowls stood with strong spirits and wine adorned with flowers and herbs like lavender.
Was this how humans celebrated spring? It couldn't be more unlike the debauchery and racy rituals of the Spring Court.

A circle of townspeople had formed around the big fire while doing some kind of folk dance. He kept to himself, nipping from his cup while taking in the lively spirit. Everyone seemed so elated and happy, yet they still wore their winter clothes and their boots were hanging by a thread. They must've had quite a heavy winter. Lucien could barely imagine it, he'd spent his entire life in seasonal courts known for their mildness.

As time wore on he noticed that parts and fragments of the dances and melodies seemed familiar. He shortly reminisced Calanmai, though that would be celebrated in May. Perhaps the dance steps and drums went back to a time where fae and mankind celebrated these moments together.
Snippets of memories and unwanted touches came back to him from the dark corners of his mind.

He blinked again and batted away that train of thoughts. His eyes focussed back on the flames and the shaky hot air surrounding them. Behind the orange and red tongues climbing into the sky and behind the train of dancing people his eye suddenly found a face. He moved away from his spot to get a better look. The fire lit up her golden brown locks and pale face. From a flower crown, trains of tiny buds and blooms trailed and twisted between her long curly hair.
She was surrounded by a flock of girls, two so similar to her they had to be sisters. She was silent through most of the conversation the girls seemed to be having. Looking up, she found his eye immediately and he could've sworn time stood still.

The wind picked up, crawling underneath his clothes and tickling his back. The bonfire crackled, sparks flying between the dancing people who broke apart in laughter. The beating thinned out but Lucien was unaware of the shift in melody. All sounds evaporated except for the beating of his heart, his focus singling the unknown figure out from the crowd. The people who'd participated in the circle dance now took partners from the surrounding groups. One by one her friends disappeared. She was left standing at the edges of the crowd, inconspicuous and happy to only see.

Why was the air surrounding her so vastly different from those around her? And why was he still moving forward to her?
She averted her eyes and wrapped her shawl a bit tighter.

'A dance, stranger?'
The brunette girl from before took his hand with a smile.
'I don't know the moves.'
'It's easy, give it a try.'
'You should really find someone else. Your skills would be wasted on me.'

When he broke free, the big eyed girl was suddenly standing a great deal closer.
Lucien slowly bent his head, then realising he had no clue how to properly greet people in this world. 'Miss.'
'It's you.' She was visibly shook yet inched closer to him.
'Excuse me?'
'I don't know. Perhaps not yet…Only in dreams.'

She was analysing his face, and he suddenly felt afraid. Humans couldn't look through glamour, but still his heart pounded when the pair of brown eyes took in his russet ones, his unmarred cheeks and the normal ears protruding from between his dark copper hair.

'I'm sorry', she blinked and looked down again. 'I'm Elain, Elain Archeron. Who are you?'
'I'm Lucien, Lucien Day.' He still wasn't ready to take on Helion's surname in public. He hoped the odd feeling would disappear one day.

She was looking at him expectantly with a gentle smiling gracing her smooth lips. He felt a desperate need to please her, but it had been a while since he had engaged in polite conversation. He was good at business talk and banter but this was, like everything in his life lately, uncomfortable territory.

'Your crown's pretty. Everyone's wearing one but yours is particularly elaborate. It's… Nice.'
Really, you'd think that after 500 years of being sexually active, he'd at least know how to flirt without embarrassing himself. Helion, the old flirt, would've had a dozen of pick-up lines ready.

'Thanks, my fiancé's sister gave it to me.'
'You're engaged?' She held up a hand with a beautiful ring. An iron one, of course. He had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. These humans and their silly superstition.
'Yes, ultimately.'
'You don't look that old. Why say ultimately?'
'I held off marrying for a long time.'
She was trying to convey something to him, judging by the begging look in her eyes. Yet he couldn't fathom why this human girl was reaching out towards him, a stranger. Or rather, his mind didn't want to understand but inside his mind was whirling.

That pull, that feeling that had made her stand out from the crowd. He knew when he had felt it before; in his dreams of the violets and meadows.
'It's alright, I understand', she sighed.
'I don't.'
'They say violets can heal the broken heart', her smile was a curious thing. Gentle but amused as well. Somehow she looked content with what she saw, as if a puzzle had been solved.
'Do they?'
She turned to the table on their left and handed him a snowdrop. He took it and carefully put it in his breast pocket.
'I've been seeing violets for a while.' It was only fair he would admit to seeing her. Maybe she could give him the answers he was looking for. Though he was still puzzled as to what he was looking for.
It was definitely worth it when he saw her eyes light up.
'For how long?'
'For a couple of weeks. But, I'm bad at interpreting dreams.'
'Oh, they're not dreams. They are visions, Lucien.'
She smiled but her already light frame seemed to retreat into itself. He'd disappointed her with his answer.

'Visions?'
She sighed. He couldn't stop staring at her face, at the way her pink lips pouted in annoyment.
'I don't understand', she mumbled and turned away from him. She was fiddling with one of the trails of flowers tumbling from the crown around her head.
'Elain?' She looked over her shoulder and walked on, her pace slow enough not to rouse the suspicion of her acquaintances.

'Elain?'
He asked again as they dove in between two houses.
She shook her head.
'I don't understand. I just-don't. Feyre and Nesta forbade me from ever talking about it- and I can't. Graysen would dumb me if he ever found out, or declare me mad… I always- I- I'm starting to believe I am going mad.'

He took her chin in his hand.
'Talk about what? Talk straight, allow me to understand, please.'
'I see things. I always have. It took me a long time to understand. First I had this eerie feeling of déjà-vû when I saw things happening. But I know now they're images of what is going to happen. I don't always understand them since things rarely play out as they do when I first see them. I told my sisters about it and they made me swear never to speak of it in public. It sounds supernatural and that's a very bad thing ever since the Wall went up. I've seen you ever since I first started having these visions and when I saw you tonight and you said you've been seeing violets, just like I had, I thought that I'd maybe finally found someone with the same ability. I swear I'm not mad.'

'I know you're not.' Though it baffled him how a human girl could possess the gifts of a seer.
'But I don't understand any of the things I saw. You were bleeding from your eye when I saw you first, and in all others you were scarred. You should watch out that nothing bad will befall you.'
Her eyes went back to the metal eye hidden beneath his glamour. She still wasn't telling him everything, but he couldn't blame her. He'd barely told her anything either. They were strangers.
'But you've only been seeing these images for a couple of weeks?'

He didn't know that the set of Day Court gifts he'd been granted included vision. He was missing an important piece of information.

'I don't have an answer. I only know you're not mad. You're not alone, there are others like you, we call them Seers. However, I've never seen things. I never saw the past, the present or the future. I can't explain to you why I saw the same violets but nothing else.'

'We? Where?'

The red haired stranger took a step back and she felt almost bound to follow the tug at her heart.
In this silence between them, neither knew what to say anymore. They weren't on equal footing.
Elain had spent her entire youth hoping for this man to come for her. His face was as familiar to her as her own. She'd seen him get hurt, she'd seen him running through a field in fear. She had watched as he mourned surrounded by violets, she'd seen his tears as he and a blond man fought and in the recent couple of years she'd started seeing herself in her visions of him.
She'd been so certain it was just a way for destiny to introduce her to her possible husband. As the years wore on though, she'd started doubting he'd ever come around and finally she had ended up engaged with Graysen. Nesta wasn't a fan of Graysen, but she knew he loved her and was able to take care of her while this ghost of a possible suitor couldn't.

But here he was, as handsome as she remembered, yet not at all what she had expected him to be. His face was one not used to happiness and his shoulders were weighed down by something she didn't yet know. Violets symbolised healing and it was apparent he was not done healing yet.
She might know his inner world but he didn't know her. She couldn't believe that after all these years of waiting he still wasn't ready now that they finally met.

She didn't know what to do. The handsome stranger was going to leave sooner rather than later and she was engaged and bound to marry within a year. Yet, yet there had to be a reason she had been getting these visions. There had to be. But what could she do?

His eye flickered a solid gold when a chilling breeze ran through the alley. But it was restored within a second. She blinked a couple of times. It was hours past her normal bedtime. Her fatigue was probably distorting her vision.

'Elain! Elain? Are you here?'
She looked over her shoulder towards the larger street.
'Please be careful, I wouldn't want anything to happen to you.'
He huffed, a wry smile appearing on his face.
'Don't you worry, sweetheart.'

There was nothing she could do. She had to let him go.

She never did stop thinking about him though. As her wedding was approaching, she thought of him more than ever.
She kept turning over everything that had been said, and everything that hadn't, during their conversation.

He had been seeing the same things she had. He said there was a name for what she was where he came from. And she couldn't help but think back on the flash of gold she'd seen in the same eye she'd seen him bleed from in her visions.

His red hair haunted her dreams, and sometimes she felt the phantom of his soft hot fingers on her skin. But his face was twisted in agony whenever she envisioned him and she kept waking up to a feeling of impending doom. When she confided to Nesta about the ominous feel her sister blamed it on the impending nuptials.
'Elain, if this isn't what you want you're allowed to break it off.'
'This doesn't have to do with the wedding. Something is going to happen but I don't know what.' Although she didn't really want the wedding to happen either.

Her mind was taken off of Lucien and the wedding by the sudden reappearance of Feyre, who had apparently become immortal. Nesta spent days on end fretting about the danger of letting their sister and her gang of Illyrians into the manor.
'We cannot refuse her, she's our sister Nesta.'
Her figure remained still in front of the window, her back turned towards her younger sister.
'Playing host to a meeting between the nine queens and Them? Do you know what fate could befall us? We could die Elain. You came to me talking about how something bad was going to happen a couple of weeks ago and now we're in way over our heads in this magical business. I can't protect you from these fae and their magic should something go wrong.'

It all went down three days before her wedding. She was spending a quiet night in with Nesta, embroidering towels and handkerchiefs with her and Graysen's initials when the door was barged open by four frightful creatures and a breath-taking blonde woman. When she woke up she was being dragged through a big cold corridor of stone. The air around her hummed of magic and the stench of it was so strong she could almost taste it.

Big dark doors flew open to reveal her sister and her group of friends held back and bleeding in front of a pale man on a throne. But that wasn't the first thing she noticed. It was the blond man standing on the side. She knew that man. He'd been in her visions of Lucien. Her visions were blurry and the images rarely sharp, it would have been easy not to remember the pointy ears, however there was no mistaking his face. But if the man she'd seen with Lucien was indeed a High Fae that meant that Lucien…

She didn't have time to think it over before she was dragged towards a ginormous cauldron. The pounding, which had already been so strong in the corridor, became louder still. The air reverberated with magic. Dizzy and scared as she was, she was absolutely paralyzed . The cauldron was getting closer and closer but everything seemed to happen in slow motion.
Her ears were shutting down but she could still hear screaming in the distance.
But it seemed so far.
So silent.
The cauldron was loud. She almost felt its presence in her head.

Hello there, sweetling.

She tried to struggle but her limbs had stopped responding.

Please, don't let me die.

The darkness and silence had been unlike anything she'd ever witnessed before. She kept on choking for an eternity. Water poured into her lungs as every bone in her body broke in hundreds of pieces. Her skin burned and everything was agony.
But more than anything she was afraid, so very afraid. And then, a vision.

A figure of fire and sunshine was standing in a hallway. His warmth heated her cold wet body and she felt… Safe. He raised his hand towards her. She could almost weep of joy. Home.

She gasped for breath as she was poured onto the cold floor. It should have hurt, falling the way she did. Yet she only felt the pain of water in her lungs. She coughed and crawled but kept slipping on the wet floor around her. Looking up, her vision was clouded by tears of pain. Figures were standing some distance away, but none moved.
She felt awful as her arm slipped away from under her body again. Her eyes struggled to focus on her hand. Why was it looking off? It looked too long, too pale. Graysen's ring was already slipping from her finger.
She trembled as she heard a high pitched scream she knew to be her sisters'. She turned only to see Nesta disappear into the cauldron, her hand raised in a fowl gesture.

A muffled scream, a gurgle. She twisted again and saw the bulky bleeding Illyrian claw his way towards the cauldron through a puddle of his own blood.

And then they were whisked away by Mor and hidden within the House of Wind.
The first couple of weeks she struggled to regain control over her new limbs. But even her upper chamber hadn't remained safe from the cauldron's touch. At first, so many things were introduced to her from food to clothes to an information overload on the whole situation with Hybern that she didn't have any space of mind.
But as the weeks wore on, the visions she used to have as a human rose in intensity. They appeared with more or less the same intervals but they were so much sharper now. Every detail was clear and she could recollect everything that had happened in them when she woke up from her visions as well. It was silly, she knew, to complain about the extra inches of limbs and the clearer visions when in a hallway not far away from theirs, Cassian was struggling to save his wings and Rhysand who had just lost his mate, had to run an entire court while looking for a way to save his High Lady and the entire human world.

Sometime after Feyre returned to the Night Court, Nesta and her moved into a Velaris townhouse as well. Nesta had been training with Amren and Elain- well, she kept on feeling useless. She didn't have any political or military insight to help them nor any real power like Nesta or Feyre.
The only thing she had were these dark visions of battle and blood.
They worried for her, she could see it in their eyes.
They thought her frail and weak, too gentle for the war that was coming.

The only one who came close to trying to understand her was Azriel. He was the only one besides Lucien who had ever asked what she meant with the words she said. She felt a strange connection to him but she wasn't ready to tell Azriel how she was probably a seer, it felt intimate somehow, to tell someone about the conversation she'd had with Lucien.

When Azriel, Cassian, Nesta and her arrived at the House of Wind for a dinner party, they found Rhysand pacing through the room.

'Hey, what's up your royal batness?'
Rhysand looked up from his pondering, obviously not expecting his guests anymore.
'The dinner, right! I've been a bit preoccupied, a friend of Feyre's arrived covered in blood and-'
'Arrived where?'
'Who?'
'A couple of hours ago, at the Court of Nightmares. I brought him here.'
'What friend, Rhysand?' Azriel asked in that low voice of his.
'Lucien Vanserra or whatever he now goes by. He's helped Feyre with her trials under the mountain. The fool had just tried to reason with Tamlin. I knew the High Lord was a tool, but I didn't think he'd attack someone he'd spent so many centuries with.'
'Where are you keeping him?' Elain asked .
'In the same room as Cassian. It's where we keep all the first aid- hey Elain, where are you going?'

There was no such thing as coincidence.
She'd seen him get hurt by that tall blond fae time and time again. She'd seen him get hurt so much she wondered which one of her visions had come true this time.
And then she felt it. The change in her heartbeat, just as it had the day she first laid her eyes upon him. The presence was near, very near. Like a very soft and pleasant version of the cauldron that day when it beckoned her. And then she smelt it. The oddest mix of burnt wood, old books and musk. She hadn't really noticed when she was human but she instinctively linked it with him.
The distance immediately became unbearable and she quickly knocked on the door.
Her sister opened up in confusion.
'Elain, what are you doing here?'
'Let me see him.'

On the edge of the bed, in a shirt so transparent she could see the bandages around his torso and arms, the copper haired fae of her dreams sat. Sunshine and fire emanated from him as a natural extension of his body as she stumbled over the threshold. A soft glamour lay over his face.

What could she say? Would their encounters always be this awkward?

'Well, it's obvious I wasn't careful enough,' he remarked with an amused huff.
The tiniest of laughs left her lungs.
'No. Have you ever even tried? I heard you helped my sister Beneath The Mountain. Sounds like a foolproof way to stay out of harm's way.'
And she'd seen it too. Although she hadn't been able to place those visions until Rhysand had told them a couple of minutes ago. Feyre and Rhysand had never talked about what had happened there before. But now she knew that the images she'd seen of Feyre surrounded by monsters and of Lucien being tortured originated from their time spent there.

'I'm sorry to have worried you, Elain. I remembered her from the night we met,' he said while nodding at Feyre, 'Thought you might've wanted your sister back alive.'

'I'm sorry, you two know each other?'
'We've met', Elain explained silently.
'Once upon a vision, he smiled.

Confusion clouded Feyre's face but Elain practically jumped at the confession. Back then it had become clear that though she had been seeing him for years, he hadn't seen her yet but now- now…

Everything was hot and tense and strange and exiting. All thoughts stopped and moving became near impossible. The thudding of her heart was deafening and the electric pull she'd felt urging her to get closer when he'd first stepped away from her all those months ago was now back in full force. She could feel it charging from her heart through her veins, reaching out to him.

The glamour broke as he gasped for breath. The shiny glow of his hair disappeared as the blood clots in it became visible, the eye she knew he'd hurt turned a solid gold. A scar appeared tracing from above his eyebrow towards his jawline. But they did nothing to diminish the inhuman beauty now visible to her eye. She had known the eye and scar were there, she'd seen them as a human and as a fae as well.
And in that instant, she felt something shift deep within her, the missing piece of the puzzle she'd spent years looking for finally clicked.

'My mate.'
He reached out to her, his hands a lovely shade of bronze that set off against the pale of his shirt.
'Mates', she breathed. Just like Feyre and Rhysand, connected across any distance.
'Elain', her eyes fluttered shut. She thought she'd never hear his voice again.
'Elain.'
A moan left her lips as she held on tightly.
One of his hands trailed up her arm and gently tugged until she was sitting next to him. His eye gave a couple of clicks and whirled, zooming in on the gorgeous fae woman sitting next to him. She let her head fall against his neck, soft wind-tousled curls tickling his nostrils.
She smelt of flowers and sweet perfume, and her lips tracing the skin of his collarbone, were soft and plump.

He'd devoured so many books looking for answers. He'd spent so many nights dreaming. Yet, when the realisation finally struck him that the images he'd been seeing where shreds of the visions and life of his mate, he was whisked away to Under The Mountain by Amarantha's cronies. And then there was Feyre, who at first glance looked so much like her sister it almost physically hurt him to look at her.
For the first time in centuries, he'd felt like he had a purpose and something to care about but he had been robbed of the opportunity. He comforted himself with the thought that she was safe and happily married in the human realm. He'd abandoned all hope of ever leaving that mountain. Yet he had, thanks to her sister's incredible bravery.

And when he'd gotten an invitation for the wedding he'd allowed himself to hope that the sweet human girl would come as well. But she hadn't, and for the better since Tamlin tore everything to shreds when Rhysand helped Feyre escape.
He'd returned to the Day Court and when the news arrived that Tamlin had kidnapped Feyre's sisters and thrown them in the cauldron, he'd left within the minute.
He knew his friend has been growing mad ever since Amarantha first set foot in Prythian, but he had refused to believe his former friend had been so lost he'd turn to Hybern's kind of evil. It had been a fool's errand to try and talk some sense into the High Lord of Spring, he should have known that. And when the inevitable happened, he winnowed to the Court of Nightmares. It made no sense, logically, the Day and Dawn Court were way more specialised in spells and healing, but he knew from the fight with Tamlin that the Archeron sisters were here and Feyre had told him he'd always have a friend wherever she would be right before they left Under The Mountain.

And now here he was, and here she was.
Eternal, both of them.
As he allowed his fingers to trail up and down her arm, he realised that maybe words weren't necessary.
Because when he looked at her, and she looked at him, they knew. They had been beside each other the entire time, sharing their roads to this point. And Elain had undoubtedly seen past this point as well.
Now was a time to cherish the present in which they could finally hold and behold, this moment that they had been given.
And although a war was looming on the horizon, they could finally get to know each other.

FIN.

PS: Nesta 100% freaked out when Feyre told them Elain and Lucien mated right in front of her eyes.
PPS: It absolutely took both Cassian and Azriel to hold her down and prevent her from going into that room
PPPS: My two children definitely came into the dining room in time for dinner, trying to act casual but the inner circle jumped right on them.
PPPPS: Sass queen Lucien had no place in the two encounters he's had with Elain in this fic but he was definitely in banter mode during that conversation
PPPPPS: Which is why, as he was roasting Cassian, nobody noticed Elain putting her food on his plate until everybody felt how the mating bond was consumed when Lucien finished his plate.
PPPPPS: Everybody evacuated in literally no time from the House of Wind while Nesta was demanding explanations.

Notes:

John Gerard, a 16th century herbalist named snowdrops Early Blooming Bulbous Violet. I'm really learning stuff while writing this

Violets in dreams: a sign of fortune and a sign that your future spouse will be younger than you

Violets in Victorian floriography are associated with purity, maidenhood and loss of innocence

In Grecian myths and legends they were often associated with (early) death but also with resurrection. Obviously, Elain died and was resurrected as a High Fae

They're also associated with tragical figures, like Shakespeare's Ophelia in Pre-Raphaelite art for example

Apparently, a common name for violets is a "call-to-me". Which was also something that inspired this story

Violets were linked to early spring and folk dancers. The idea of Elucien meeting during a seasonal celebration in a medieval-esque town was quite an interesting one. I didn't know which way I was gonna go, in a first version I thought of her being a seer and her seducing him but I felt as if that was too OOC and, influenced by a couple of other fanfics introducing the idea of Elain having had some kind of clairvoyance before, the fic took the form it does now