Lucien winnows into the garden of the River House, a smile creeping into his face as he sees the crouched back of his mate, her dirtied hands working the soil.

Still gloveless.

He makes his way over to her just as she winces and pulls her hand away, a trickle of blood making its way down her smallest finger where a sharp thorn juts out. Lucien quickly uses his speed to reach her as fast as possible, eliciting a startled gasp from her.

"Allow me", he murmurs suavely, taking her hand in his and carefully removing the thorn before hovering his other hand over it, the blood and thorn prick completely disappearing. "I'm sorry I shocked you, Elain."

Elain stops herself from shuddering at the mention of her name on his lips. "Hello, Lucien."

"I wouldn't say I told you so otherwise. However...I believe I purchased you a very high-quality pair of gardening gloves. For the sole purpose of preventing your hands from getting pricked by thorns."

Elain chews her lip, caught. "It's not that I don't appreciate them. They are nice. It's simply easier to garden with bare hands. Much easier. I know they would help..."

Lucien smirks. "Well firstly, I told you so. Many times in fact, that you'd get scars from all those little pricks and cuts if you kept at those roses with only your flesh. However, it is also understandable that it's easier to maneuver without them on."

"What brings you to the Night Court today?"

He bows his head towards her, cross-legged near the dirt in her patterned shirt and overalls. Not the usual flirty-type apparel she always wears. Her hair is even up in a crowned braid. "May I sit?"

Elain nods her head, and Lucien sits cross-legged beside her, his long red locks, hanging in front of his cheek. Elain carefully tucks them behind his ear and pecks his cheek. "Thank you for...that. My hand, the healing thing you do."

Lucien tries to keep his wits about him as the place where her lips had touched his cheek tingles still. "It is my pleasure, Elain."

Her cheeks tinge pink again and she fiddles with the dirt in her palm.

"As for your question, you bring me here. Not directly, but I have hopes that I am allowed to visit you despite my busy schedule these days. The bond is...stronger for males, I think Feyre explained some more to you."

"She did. I'm sorry about how I've acted in the past. I know I was hurting, but that didn't give me the right to take out my anger on you. Especially because it wasn't your fault that things transpired the way they did."

He looks at her, his golden eye reflecting the sun like an orb of molten metal. "I don't blame you. Everyone reacts differently when things are at their lowest. I've seen all different fae hit rock bottom and all of them have different coping mechanisms. Whether it be to shut down, lash out, or close off. Sometimes all three. You didn't do anything wrong by wanting some time, I promise you."

She smiles shyly and wipes the dirt off her hands. "That means a lot. Thank you."

"Of course."

"I realize that the bond must have been unbearable at certain points, and...I hope you weren't in too much pain or...or desperation."

"I'm very good with control. One of the best in Prythian, and I take pride in that. I like to think it comes from my healing abilities somehow repairing myself when I choose, but if I'm being honest it's only a guess. Nobody truly knows how all their powers work, and even if they do, the control factor and the ins and outs are not always black and white. There is a lot of gray area. Which only makes it harder to identify intentions on occasion."

"I've heard about your control, as well as how you can assert it on others when it's necessary. That's admirable and appreciated."

"I know many people are still wary of me for being involved with Tamlin, but I promise you Elain, I never have anything but the best intentions for all those I care for. If anyone understands trauma, it's me. Which means I cannot fault one person over another, and I won't choose sides. Not anymore. I can't operate that way. Not after everything I've seen and been through. Things that Rhysand has no clue about. Things that Feyre wasn't even alive for. Hell, because I'm sure there are things I don't know too. But he's still my friend, despite our tussles and fights. He's still the male that took me in when I fled Autumn. Battered and bruised and completely broken from my loss, somehow fighting for my life, on the brink of wanting nothing but death to sweep me away. Just because I'm a good acquaintance of the Night Court circle, does not mean I will abandon him. I've also told Tamlin the same. Just because I'm his friend, does not mean I will turn my back on my duties here...or you, mate, for being Feyre's sister."

Elain's big, brown, doe eyes shine with softness as she beholds this male. Her mate. Her Cauldron given, Mother gifted, fated, destined, however anyone chooses to word it, mate. Her absolute equal, according to Fae culture. "You are nothing if not honorable, Lucien Vanserra."

"I try my best."

"I've been enjoying these visits, you know..."

"You have?"

"Yes. I'm glad I decided to give you a chance. Feyre was right when she told me you were a good male."

Lucien smiles, flattered. "She did?"

"She did", Elain breathes out and smiles.

Lucien leans back on his palms, his face tilting back towards the warmth of the sun, his body seeming a bit weary. "I'm flattered she still feels that way."

"You've all but made up for any wrongdoing she believed you took part in."

"Good to know."

Elain observes him as he lies back on the grass, his vibrant hair sprawled out behind him and his beige tunic dipping low, exposing part of his chest. "Something is weighing on you", she observes.

"Very observant today, Archeron."

She smiles softly, but solemnly. "This bond...can it...do things?"

Lucien raises himself up on his arms to look at her, his interest piqued. "What do you mean 'things'?"

Elain takes a soft breath and nibbles on her lower lip, the sun warming her already flushed face. "Well, firstly I want you to know that I am not like my sister, and I cannot read minds, but I can see things. Events. I've seen the past and the present so far, and I haven't told many people unless it is detrimental to the upcoming war, so I want you to know that I would never share your personal experiences without your permission even if I have seen them."

"You've seen...what, exactly, Elain?"

Swallowing hard she raises her head to look directly into his eyes, concern, sadness, and empathy shining through clear as day. "I-I saw...what happened. To you and to...the other girl you once loved", she whispers, reaching a hand out and placing it on his. A gesture of comfort, and another physical touch.

Lucien sits up fully now, his eyebrows knit until the realization rushes over him. His dream. Elain saw his dream. Her seer abilities must have been tethered to their bond in their sleep. She had shared his dream about Jesminda. "You—you shared my dream?"

"And your nightmare", she whispers. "Lucien, I am truly sorry. Losing Grayson was tough on me, but it is absolutely nothing compared to what you've been through. I—." Her eyes begin to glisten with tears. "I don't know what else to say except that I'm so sorry. She seemed like an amazing female, and...", she trails off.

"She was." Lucien's voice cracks but he doesn't hide. It's hard not to put on his steely and determined guise, but he keeps it off, vulnerable for his mate. Only her.

"I don't know why the Cauldron or the Mother chose me for you. After experiencing what your life was like back then—with her—I don't know how I could compare to that. I wasn't born Fae. I'm not...I'm not like her, Lucien", she says weakly.

"Elain Archeron", he murmurs, squeezing her hand. "You do not need to be like her to be worthy of me. And I hope I do not need to be like Grayson to be worthy of you. If that is what you ultimately decide that you want. Just because we lost those we loved very much, does not mean we want everyone to be a replica. I appreciate you for who you are, Elain. For your gentleness, your willfulness, your beauty, and your strength. You do not have to be outgoing or loud or anything else that Jesminda was for me to—"

"To...?", she asks shyly.

"To want you", he says firmly but sweetly, holding her gaze. "I can't pretend that I don't. But as I have always said, I will wait as long as it takes for you to be comfortable with me. For you to make a decision. I would wait through five more centuries and twelve more wars. I would fight thousands more monsters if it meant that I could be with you in the end. You are worth the wait, Elain. I'm your mate. Whether you choose me, or you don't, I will remain yours. I am loyal to you and only you, whose soul I feel entwined with mine. I could never love another now that I am yours."

Elain stares at him wide-eyed, her cheeks flushed. "Feyre...she mentioned you could be poetic and swoon-worthy. But hearing and seeing it myself is much different. Much better."

Lucien erupts in soft, deep laughter, laying back down on the ground. "Thank you for the compliments. It's nice to hear from someone other than a male friend."

Elain giggles lightly and stretches out beside him on the grass, her body thrumming with the pull of the bond. This time, she recognizes the feeling. The one she has been pushing away and desperately trying to ignore all this time. But she doesn't want to do that anymore.

"Lucien?"

"Yes, Elain?"

"I think I should like to be around you more often", she muses.

He grins up at the sky, feeling her eyes on him. Happiness feels as though it will burst from his chest. "Is that so?"

"It is."

"I'd very much enjoy that."

"I think I will too."

Lucien looks over at her, eyes of russet and metal connecting with her chocolate ones. "How do you feel about an adventure, mate?"

"What exactly do you have in mind?"

He smirks wickedly. "Oh, something you have never done in your life, I'd bet."

She looks a bit worried but swallows her insecurity. "Alright. Why not? I've been cooped up for a while. Though I warn you, I'm not exactly the adventure type. Feyre is."

Lucien lets out a hearty laugh again and gets up, extending his hand to her. She takes it and he pulls her up, looking down and gazing into her eyes for a moment.

Elain look back up at him, that russet eye smoldering, holding all the fire beneath that she had come to hear Autumn males contain. And it stirs something within her. Something needy and unbecoming. Clearing her throat, she tears her eyes away from his, but their hands stay connected. She can see the pink blush upon his face as they begin to walk, then he stops.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just think we should tell Feyre. So she doesn't think you've been kidnapped."

Elain huffs in frustration. "I'm sick of my baby sister being my keeper. I am not some delicate flower that is in fear of being smushed."

"No, you are not. However, she worries. You know that. And you do live here and are usually around so she will become very distressed if she can't find you."

"That's true, I suppose", she mumbles.

"I'll only be a moment. Unless you want to come with me."

"I'll wait here", she decides, looking over her flowerbed for anywhere she had missed fixing the soil.

He nods and in the blink of an eye, he is out of sight. Elain gasps and looks around, realizing that it's the first time she has seen him winnow from up close. It's quite jarring when he had been standing right next to her not more than a second ago.

She lets the soft wind caress her face and flow through the soft golden-brown locks of her hair, enjoying the feeling of the coolness of the breeze and the warmth of the sun on her skin.

Looking down, she realizes that she is still in gardening overalls and groans, feeling a bit foolish. At least she knows that Lucien doesn't only like her for her style. That's a relief. Grayson hated seeing her messy or in a less than regal-looking state. He wanted to dress her up all the time. At the time, she had seen it as an act of care and love, as if he wanted to spoil her with expensive dresses and jewelry. But it had come to pass recently that she realized she did not need fancy clothing, jewelry, or anything else to make a man—or male—content. She would simply be true to herself, and it would be enough for someone worthy. Someone like Lucien, who didn't seem to care what she was wearing, if her hands were caked in dirt, or if her face gleamed with a light sheen of sweat. He cares for her as she is. However she presents herself. And that is something Elain had never once experienced.

Everyone in her life had tried to mold her. To make her fit in their box, their vision of her. Treating her like a porcelain doll. Her mother, who dressed her up the way Grayson did, telling her she must remain pretty at all times to nab a good man, a rich man. Nesta, who despite her care, smothered her and treated her as a breakable little thing needing to be shielded above all else. Grayson, who treated her like his trophy, which she can finally admit. Feyre, who, as much as she also cares, still treats her like she is fragile; but unlike Nesta, she is treated like a bomb, not a glass. Then there was Azriel. She knows how he felt about his own life, and now can admit that what they had was fear, longing, and desperation. She thought she wanted him because he was exactly like her. But then he gave her the necklace. The necklace, unbeknownst to him, that was something so similar to Grayson's first gift to her; the first time he tried to mold her into his pretty box to be his future wife who would sit on the sidelines and keep her mouth quiet. Though Azriel was never like that, and it was kind for him to think of her, the gesture left a bad taste in her mouth, so she rejected the gift. She won't be anybody's plaything anymore. She is not their block of clay. Never again.

"Ready?" A rumbling voice stirs her from her thoughts, and she startles.

"Lucien!"

His hands fly up in defense. "I'm sorry! Again. I know winnowing and speed, and powers in general are still new to you. Sometimes I forget. I didn't mean to startle you."

She lets out a breath and nods. "I know, but gee, you just pop out of the void."

He laughs. That velvety, deep laugh that makes tingles run up her spine.

"I love your laugh", she blurts out before realizing, immediately turning red.

Lucien smiles brightly and inclines his head politely. "Thank you, mate. I quite enjoy your smile. I can't wait to hear your genuine laugh someday. Soon hopefully."

Elain takes his hand as they make their way through the forest. She's a little jittery because of the monsters Feyre had mentioned on occasion, but Lucien is here and her thoughts keep her occupied, as well as the warmth of Lucien's large hand over her small one, seeping through her skin to her core.

Elain suddenly finds herself at a loss for when she last laughed. Had it really been years? Has she been so changed that she hadn't shown the slightest of joy? Maybe she hadn't laughed, other than the forced ones she vividly remembers during Solstice when Cassian would make a joke. It's not that he wasn't funny, she just was never in the joyous mood. That's a very sad thought. She had the pleasure of seeing Lucien laugh, smile, and even tame Cassian with a word through his pain of wanting her and staying at a distance for her. And yet she couldn't muster a semblance of happiness upon her face to show him that hope is not lost on her? She was worse than she thought she was.

"You're brooding", he mumbles.

"Hm?", she is shaken from her thoughts by his soothing voice.

"You're brooding. Overthinking. Worrying yourself. What is on your mind, little mate?"

Elain stifles a shudder the way she usually does when he calls her mate. "I—I was thinking about how I haven't laughed in a long time. And how I never gave you even an ounce of hope. Yet you waited, and kept your distance, and have been nothing but polite and good to me. I'm sorry."

Lucien brushes his thumb across her hand and gives her a small smile. "I told you, Elain. I'd wait centuries if that's what you needed. You have nothing to worry about."

Elain's heart flutters and she nods, squeezing his hand gently. "I still can't wrap my mind around that."

"What?"

"Just—centuries."

"Oh, that", he chuckles deeply. "I suppose it would be daunting to anyone who thought their longest lifespan was around one of them."

"How old are you, Lucien?"

Lucien barks out a laugh, his whole body shaking. Elain giggles, his amusement contagious.

"Noo, I mean it. I'm curious!"

"I'm very very old to you, Elain. However, Fae usually stop physically aging around what would be human maturity. So visibly, I am probably anywhere around twenty-one to thirty. I've been told I look around the higher end, around thirty. Up to you. But in terms of years I have been alive..."

"Yes, go on."

"Such a curious little doe, aren't you?"

"Says the sly fox", she counters, smirking.

"So Feyre told you."

"Oh, she did."

"Lovely", he groans jokingly.

"I'm still waiting for your answer."

"Alright. Wow, I love when you're pushy, Miss Elain."

Elain blushes softly as he helps her over a boulder, his hands gripping her sides to help her down the small drop. Her body slides down his as he puts her down, and she blushes more, the heat of his chest and hands nearly searing through the denim of her overalls.

"I am much younger than Rhysand."

"Luciennn", she whines.

He snickers. "I am. But fine, I am currently four hundred and ninety-nine."

Elain gasps, gaping in shock. "When is your birthday?"

Lucien's hands have not left her body as they are pressed together, Elain staring at him in shock and intrigue.

"So nosy today."

"Lucien, when?"

A tight sigh, "In a few days."

She gasps again and he chuckles, finally letting go of his grasp and taking her hand again, resuming their hike.

"You're going to be five hundred in three days!?"

"Yes."

"Oh my gosh. We have to have a party!"

"What?" he turns quickly to look at her, shock on his face. "No, we don't, it's fine."

"No no no, yes we do! That is a milestone birthday if there was ever a milestone birthday!"

"Really, I'm fine Elain. My birth was...nothing special. Believe me. I'm the seventh son. I'm sure by then Beron was sick and tired of mouths to feed. He said as much to me and a few of my other brothers, but usually me. How we were never wanted, just thrust upon him, as if the Cauldron damned him. Which I think it did. If anyone deserved to be damned, it's him."

Elain stops short and Lucien pauses, looking at her. Her face is tight, and her jaw set in a look of annoyance.

"Elain?"

"How dare he."

"What?"

"That bastard. How dare he tell you that you are anything but special? How dare he make you feel less than deserving? How dare he not love you the way a father should love, which I know all too well? How dare he make you carry with you the feeling that you shouldn't be celebrated!?", she shouts, anger beginning to make her hands tremble.

Lucien swallows hard and flushes red, gently holding her shoulders. "Elain, it's okay."

She locks eyes with him, her look firm and demanding. "It is not okay. That is not okay. You are incredible. You should have never felt or continue to feel that you don't deserve to feel special or celebrated, Lucien Vanserra. Don't say it's okay because it's not. You are amazing", she tells him, her voice a soft growl.

Lucien can't help the ball of emotion that clogs his throat and the tears that prick his eye. He is at a loss for words, so he can only say the first thing that comes to mind. "Thank you", he whispers.

"You shouldn't need to thank me for telling you that you are worth it", she murmurs, her slightly dirt-brushed hands reaching up to cup his face before she can stop herself. Though, she realizes, she doesn't want to stop herself. Her heart only swells more when he leans into her touch as if needing it, as if unable to stop the craving for comfort.

"Elain", he murmurs, nuzzling his face into her hands.

'Lucien", she whispers, her thumbs drifting over the curve of his cheekbones as a tear makes its way down one of his cheeks. She strokes it away. "I mean it. You should never feel undeserving of happiness, or of care or of—or of love. Because you are deserving."

"So are you", he replies, looking over her concerned expression. "I don't want you to forget that either."

"I won't. Not anymore."

"Good."

"So, I am giving you a birthday party. Okay?"

He looks away shyly.

"Oh my gods...you've never had one, have you?"

"A party? Er...no. When I was young, my mother would get me my favorite cupcake from the bakery in the Autumn Court city. She would put one candle on it and she and my eldest brother Eris would sit with me while I ate it and say happy birthday. But that was about the only party. And it only lasted until I was about ten."

She peers up at him and supplies a small smile. "This year you'll have a party. A big, milestone party. And I know that um, maybe not all your friends will be able to come, but I want it to be enjoyable nevertheless."

Lucien's head dips as if to kiss her in appreciation but his control yanks him back before he can. He stops midway, his lips ghosting near her nose. He pecks her nose as if to not make a fool of himself.

Elain's eyes close as she smiles, letting out the breath she was holding, as he moves away. She knows she decided to take it slow, but she would be lying if she said she didn't want him to stop thinking so hard at certain moments. Right now, she would have accepted the kiss eagerly. Her body seems to hum in annoyance as he begins walking down the trail again. She shudders when he isn't looking.

"So, where exactly are you taking me?"

"You'll see."

"You know, it's very annoying that you're so secretive."

"I'm not that secretive."

"First your age, now this 'adventure'. I'm curious what other wonders about yourself you are keeping hidden like jewels."

He smirks back at her. "I suppose you'll see."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You'll see."

"Lucien!", she shouts in frustration. "You are so frustrating."

"In the best ways, I hope."

Gods damn, yes, in the best ways.

Elain harumphs and crosses her arms, following him. She can't help but miss the feeling of her hand in his, his warmth-radiating skin against hers. Right now, she'd give anything to feel it anywhere.

She wonders exactly when she began completely falling for him since he showed up today.

As he approaches a river that appears much too wide to cross, especially without a bridge, he stops.

"There's no bridge."

Lucien chuckles. "We don't need a bridge, mate."

Her eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"This is the adventure."

"A river?"

"Yes", he replies, waggling his eyebrows.

Her face flushes deeply, a wicked thought crossing her mind. "Y-you don't mean that we—"

Lucien smirks devilishly. "Go on, tell me what you believe I took you here for", he drawls, amused, as he peels his tunic off and nonchalantly leans back against a wide tree, crossing an ankle over the other. Elain gapes at his bare, golden torso. He is even more gorgeous than she would have ever imagined. Complete with the hard and very toned abs of whatever gods the Fae pray to. She nearly drools but forced herself to blink. "Um..."

"Lose your train of thought, Elain?"

"Shut up", she grumbles and he grins. The sun seems to take to him, casting a golden glow and sheen across his body like a million haloes, outlining his very form with sunlight. It's very hard not to look at him. He looks like power. Raw but warm power. Warm and beckoning and sexy...

She clears her throat. "No. Wh—Why don't you just tell me why we're here."

"Aw, but I would have loved to hear your theory", he winks. There is no doubt he knew exactly where her mind went.

That's when he takes an emerald green satin ribbon from his pocket and begins to pull his hair up and away from his face, tying it back in a high ponytail.

Gods, if she thought he couldn't get any more beautiful, she was wrong.

"Alright, I'll tell you, but only because I seem to have left you speechless, little mate."

Elain continues to stare, her face completely flushed, even down her neck and past her shirt. Lucien can't help but wonder just how low her blush travels.

"We're fishing."

"What?", she blurts out, suddenly pulled out of her trance. "Wh-what do you mean fishing? I can't fish, I don't know how to fish."

"Anyone can fish with a little practice, Elain. It's a good skill to have. Sometimes it means the difference between life or death."

She stares at him, stunned. "I-...I don't know. And you forgot your equipment."

Lucien gives her a saccharine smirk, cracking his knuckles. "Ah, but see, that's the most exciting part. We don't need any."

"I'm...confused."

"I fish with my hands, Miss Elain."

"Your hands!? How is that even possible?"

"Well, I admit I have the power of speed, but it's mostly about patience. The waiting game, and the exact right moment to strike. Lest you forget, you are fae now too. Which means you are already inherently faster than you were as a mortal. You can do this if you'll allow me to teach you."

Elain swallows hard and hugs herself, unsure. "I'll make a fool of myself. I-I'm not very good at outdoorsy things. I'm not like my sister. I'm not like Feyre, I—"

Lucien goes over to her and cradles her face. "I'm not asking you to be Feyre, Elain. I'm asking you to be you. I just want you to try. And if you don't enjoy it, I won't make you again. But I know you are more than capable of doing anything you set your mind to. You have the determination, you just need the drive and motivation. Your worry is holding you back. I don't want to see you held back by silly fears. Especially if they involve somehow making a fool of yourself. You don't think I ever made a fool of myself when I was a young Fae and learning the ropes of not only battle and war, but of survival from my father, and how to live while unsheltered as I ran? Elain, I have made a fool of myself more times than I can count. It's a part of life. It's a part of learning. You can never get better if you don't fail sometimes. Plus, I would never judge you. This is all in good fun, whether we catch any or not. I thought...I thought it may help us bond."

She leans into his touch and lets out a breath, nodding. "Okay. You're right. I'll try. I'm sorry."

"I understand, no need to apologize."

"I've just been molded by so many people my whole life that sometimes I don't even know who I am. And I'm afraid that if I try to be whoever I'm supposed to be, it will be a person people decide they don't like or want. Because I will no longer fit into their box, I will no longer seem deserving of time or attention."

"I promise you right now and forever that whoever you are, whoever you are meant to be, I will always adore that female. I will always adore you, Elain."

She throws her arms around his neck and Lucien's eyes widen in shock. As a smile brightens his face, he tugs her close, holding her protectively against his bare chest.

"How are you always so warm?", she mumbles softly.

"Well, you know what they say. Autumn Court males have fire in their veins."

Elain's cheeks heat. Indeed, she had heard what they say. She has also heard the rest of the rumor, too.