Lucien winnows into Velaris, landing on the porch of Rhys and Feyre's new estate. His nerves are jittering with nervousness as they usually do when in proximity to Elain. He hasn't visited in a few weeks now, and every time he is away for a while, the mate bond jilts him to return.
Before he can knock, Feyre opens the door, giving a half-smile the way she always does when he arrives.
"Feyre", he nods politely.
"Lucien. Come in", she opens the door wider, allowing him entry into the river house.
In a perfect picture of domestic bliss, Rhys is sat on the sofa in the main living area, a sleeping Nyx on his chest, wings tucked around them protectively.
Lucien lowers his voice. "Rhys, always a pleasure", he smirks, the statement laced with sarcasm. "Looks like fatherhood suits you."
Rhys gives him his ever-enthused glance, a devilish twinkle within the violet. "Faux gratitude won't get you very far, fireling."
"Ah, but who says it's faux, Lord of Darkness? All new fathers put on a few pounds, it's merely a simple compliment."
Rhys can't help but let out a deep chuckle. "And there it is."
Lucien smirks and then his gaze falls on the staircase, his face falling into hesitancy and a veil of nervousness coming over his features.
"She's in the library. She installed some flower boxes outside those windows yesterday, so either she's reading or doing whatever she does with the soil. You can go up. Just—"
"I know", he replies a bit more firmly than he intended. "I know, Feyre."
She nods softly and watches him ascend the stairs, before sitting next to Rhys and gazing at their son.
Climbing the staircase and walking to the end of the long hallway, Lucien can feel his nerves humming in his body. He pauses outside of the entrance to the library and takes a breath, moving his hair back behind his ears and smoothing his vest before slowly entering, his boots clunking against the wood flowers the only audible noise.
A soothing whoosh of wind comes through the open window, blowing a few of his red tendrils behind him. He sees the soft sage green of a skirt of a dress flair out from around the corner and wave within the breeze. That's when her scent hits him all at once, alluring and intoxicating as he tried his best to choke it down.
Lucien parts his lips to speak her name, but is caught off guard when Elain speaks first.
"Lucien." Soft, simple, straightforward. Only his name and yet it stirred so much within him.
Clearing the corner, he sees Elain crouched on the window nook, a book by her knees and her fingers dirtied with soil. She blushes softly and wipes wisps of hair from her face, a smudge of dirt marring her cheek, unbeknownst to her.
"Hello, Elain", Lucien bows to her, looking over her shoulder at the small flowerbed installed outside of the window. He shudders a bit, thinking of Elain holding power tools, a crazy notion, but one that excited him nonetheless.
'Control yourself, Lucien', he internally scolds himself.
"That looks very nice. Did you install it yourself? Feyre mentioned there are more around the house too."
Elain peers up at him, a bit taken aback that Lucien seems to genuinely be interested in her answer. "Yes", she says softly, going to smooth her dress but stopping when she realizes her hands are dirty.
"Ah", Lucien exclaims. "Here you go." He pulls a clean and folded handkerchief from his vest pocket and hands it to her, his golden metal eye humming and focusing alongside his deep burgundy one as he focuses on his outstretched 'white flag'.
Elain mumbles a quick thanks and takes it. Lucien watches as she delicately wipes her fingers free of dirt, every motion driving him wild, but still, he clung to his power of control.
"I hope you know, I am not your enemy. I am just as...thrown off by this course of events as you are."
She hands out his handkerchief to give it back and blinks up at him. "You're Fae. You should have known you had a mate."
Lucien narrows his eyes but realizes she's serious. "Elain, just because I'm Fae, suffice it to say, you are too now, that does not mean we have foreknowledge of who our mate could be or when the time comes to meet them. In fact, the power you now have...being a seer...it is one of the most coveted and rare."
He reaches out and takes the handkerchief back, and with a snap of his fingers, it is clean as it was before. He watches as Elain's eyes widen in fascination and can't help the small burst of pride that glows within his chest at the notion. He folds it and places it back in his vest pocket.
Seeing the smudge of dirt on her face, his body is faster than his mind and he leans forward to brush it away. When she flinches away from his touch, it brings him back into the moment and he swallows hard.
"Apologies. The bond sometimes is prone to cloud my actions before I can remember you dislike me. You have some dirt on your face." Snapping his fingers again, he gives her a tight smile. "All clean."
Elain blushes slightly, and Lucien mentally scolds himself before motioning to a chair at the end of a row of bookshelves, close by.
"May I, please?"
She looks at him for a moment before blowing out a breath and casting her eyes downward to her now clean hands. "I suppose I don't have a choice."
"You always have a choice, Elain. As I said, I am not your enemy. I'm...I'm simply the male who wants to get to know his mate. That does not mean you are eternally bound to me. There is always a choice."
Elain's brown eyes shine as she meets his mismatched ones, a shadow of guilt within them before masking it away with coldness again, as she motions to the chair.
Lucien lets out a relieved sigh and saunters over, sitting down a reasonable distance away, his vivid red hair a stark contrast to the cool silver of the velvet.
He opens to speak but she cuts him off first. "I—I don't dislike you. I barely know you, Hardly enough to make a judgment. I've seen you make up with Feyre and I've seen you prove yourself worthy of being forgiven. I don't know any of the details of what happened before. But I now know that you—that you and even him", she spits out, "you did not betray me or my sister."
He stays quiet, pondering if Feyre had told her what she had done, and to what extent while she was back at the Spring Court. "How—"
"These...these powers of mine. They don't discern between past and present. I see things all the time. Some things that I know of, can place, and others that I cannot."
"Have you told anyone?"
"Would they take me seriously?"
Lucien feels a pang in his heart at that statement. She's right. People treat her like glass. Like breakable, bendable clay.
"No. I can't say I believe they would. Not automatically. However, everyone is adjusting and learning. I know they try to protect you from everything by keeping you in the dark. But I know that it's a front. I know that you're not as breakable and bendable as they believe you to be. I see the steely resolve in you. The same type of resolve I see in Feyre, in Nesta. It's just brewing inside of you, while your outside looks every bit the picture of a damsel. You are not a damsel, Elain Archeron. You are a force. And it's about time everyone sees that. But as with everything, that is your choice."
Elain looks at him fully. Really looks at him, and can see the honorable male Feyre has mentioned on occasion that Lucien Vanserra is. Not only that, but she sees the one person in this damned Fae land that doesn't treat her like a child. He tells it how it is. Every time she has heard him speak. Whether he is doing business with Rhys or telling off Feyre for something stupid. One thing he is not, is a liar.
Lucien holds her gaze as she looks at him with such ferocity, such fire that it nearly matches his own blazing inside of him. It nearly makes him turn away from it, but he does not. He stares right back at her, everything in him wanting to go to her and wrap around her, touch her, kiss her. But his control holds over all else to gain this trust. This fragile, imperative trust that he holds dear above all else. Trust that can make or break a bond.
"I'm sick of everyone treating me like a child. Even Feyre. She forgets that I am her elder sister. Admittedly, I was...I was not helpful back when poverty was overcoming us. I could have done more than buy her paints. I could have helped. I—I'm not placing the blame on anyone other than myself for my own actions, but a lot of times, I was under Nesta's thumb too. She's older than me, I suppose I felt I had to listen to her because our father...he gave up. He gave up trying to be a father, a parent, he gave up trying to protect us, feed us, shield us. But Nesta...she may not have done manual labor, she may not have kept us alive, that was Feyre's doing. But she kept me comfortable and safe as much as she could. I just never understood why shielded me and never Feyre. But I know now it was because of how our mother treated her. This power—sometimes it will cling to my thoughts and bring me back to moments I never saw as if I am a bystander. I understand Nesta more now. And I'm thrilled Feyre got her happy ending she so deserved. But that leaves me. In the middle, living here, again, under the roof my baby sister provided. Meaning I am still a nobody, still just 'the seer', still just 'flowery Elain'. It leaves me trapped like I was before."
Lucien stays quiet, letting her ramble, letting everything she has never said tumble from her lips, falling from her heart. Once she quiets, he speaks.
"You are not just anything. You are destined to be a great Fae female, and you will figure it out. You will find out where you belong, and it will all be your choice. But you are not a nobody", he responds, unable to help the lower growling tone of his voice from sneaking out at the last part.
Elain fiddles with the skirt of her dress, either smoothing it out of habit or wiping her palms of sweat. Either way, he can see her thinking. The way her forehead scrunches slightly and her lips purse, a clear indication. What she says next, he could never guess. She's a mystery, but one he can't wait to jump at the chance to unravel.