It was a fight. It always seemed to be a fight recently but this was bad. Lucien didn't like how calm Ianthe was about Tamlin's outright refusal to participate in the Great Rite for Calanmai. Tam would not do this without Feyre. He would not even look at the cave or consider changing his mind. Lucien's heart sank when the day before the rite Ianthe announced that she had an idea. A way to ensure the future of the court until Feyre was returned while respecting Tamlin's boundaries.
Lucien did not miss how her eyes dragged over him as she brought the idea to Tamlin…
Elain had been preparing for bed when something like panic tugged at her chest. She dropped her brush and her hand flew to her throat. Panic and despair and rage gripped her so tightly that she hardly noticed when her sister came to check on her. Nesta shook her shoulder,
"Elain? Elain, what's wrong?" her sister demanded but Elain only shook her head and pat Nesta's arm. "I-it's nothing. I just stood up too quickly. Got dizzy." It had taken some gentle urging to ward Nesta off long enough to finish her usual evening routine but eventually, her sister conceded and retired for the evening.
Elain breathed a long sigh and filled a kettle with water. She had to be careful. Her hands were shaking so terribly. What was going on? She'd never had a panic attack before and there was nothing around her that would have triggered such a strong response. Something pulled at her again. Shaking and desperate. A sensation like someone had tied a thread to one of her ribs and was now tugging on it. She walked to her front door, not sure how to tug back. To reassure whoever it was that everything would be alright. She couldn't even convince herself to sit down long enough to consider why she wanted to soothe this strange presence. Hurt… Whoever or whatever it was they were hurting. Badly. The thought of it set her hands trembling again.
Worse. Worse. It was so much worse than Ianthe had suggested it would be. He felt wrong. Everything about him felt wrong as he stumbled out of that cave in the early hours of the morning. So early that the sun had not yet begun to rise. The magic still smothered the bulk of his sense of self. That magic had been pleased by what Ianthe had brought before it. Sated by what she had offered. But he felt sick. Wrong. Wrong. So wrong. He pushed through trees, fumbling with the clothes he'd hidden at the tree line. His hands were numb and shaking. Like he couldn't properly connect to them. He pulled desperately for any sense of himself to come back. His whole body felt detached from him. Like it didn't belong to him anymore.
He was going to be sick… Ianthe and Tamlin might not have chained him to the floor of that cave but they might as well have. Tamlin had guilted him into agreeing to this. And Ianthe… Ianthe had taken every advantage of Tamlin's refusal to participate in the rite. She had taken her time with Lucien after insisting she would be going into that cave with him. The drums pounded after him and the light of the fires seemed to be following him. He felt too visible. He could still feel her on him. His back and chest stung where she had dragged her nails. Intentionally marking and claiming him in a way he had not wanted. Had never agreed to. Not from her. It crossed the line. She would excuse it as duty but he couldn't. Tamlin let her do this. He had to have known what she was planning. He crashed into a tree and shuddered. Shift. Shift now. He willed his magic to obey and soon he was wrapped in a flickering light. The world turned bigger around him and orienting himself on four legs was difficult in his state but she had never seen him like this. Never touched him in this shape. This form was still purely his own. And only that gave him the strength to sprint for the wall. Away. He needed to be away. He could not stand to stay here. He wasn't sure what pulled him through the gap in the wall or how he remembered the path into that mortal town but he didn't care. He followed it blindly.
His legs burned as he ran. Carried him through that mortal town away from the Spring Court. Away from Prythian. He clung to whatever force propelled him forward. More of his own consciousness returned to him as he got further away. The dull roar in his head remained. The vulnerability of not having been able to stop it. The rage at what Ianthe had done. At what she insisted was hers to claim. He hated her. He hated her for reducing him to this. And he hated Tamlin for not seeing through her. Loathed his friend for letting this happen to him. Soon enough he was through the mortal town. The windows all having been dark as he shot past. No one out to see the fox flying down the road away from faerie lands and toward the Archeron estate.
He'd expelled nearly all the excess magic in the hour it took him to get from the town to the Archeron's long entry path. He told her, promised her, that he would come back if anything happened. He hadn't thought about what she would think when she saw him. He just managed to shift back before he hit the front door. He willed his hands to stop shaking long enough to knock on the door.
Once.
Twice.
It swung open before he could knock a third time. Like she had been waiting for someone to show up. Something caved in his chest and Elain's eyes scanned him, taking in his rushed clothing and pale face. He probably looked ghastly… He wasn't sure what he'd been planning to say to her. But the hurt and hollowness forced a few truthful words from him.
"I can't… I can't go back." She stepped outside and extended her hands to him. And as if she knew what had driven him from Tamlin's lands she asked.
"Lucien, may I touch you?" She asked. Just for that, he could have wept with gratitude. The fact that she asked before even touching his hand. He took a step toward her and exhaustion knocked his knees out from under him. She knelt down in front of him and he nearly sobbed at how gently she drew him into her. At the soft hand she brushed down his hair as she whispered soothing words. He was crying. He couldn't stop it. "It's alright" She insisted, "It's going to be okay," Elain murmured, her voice running soothingly along the raw hurt of the night. He believed her when she spoke like that. Or at least he wanted to be okay badly enough that her words were enough to convince him that he would be.