As per usual, just a quick little disclaimer first that this fic was inspired by Taylor Swift's song "Daylight" on the Lover album. BUT, as a fun little addition, I also took some inspiration from the 2019 "Little Women" movie (just watched it for the first time the other day and FREAKING LOVED IT)!
Anyway, with that out of the way, hope you enjoy this little three-shot Elucien fic that wouldn't leave me alone!
"And I can still see it all in my mind. All of you, all of me, intertwined." - Taylor Swift
Elain leaned against the front door frame, fiddling to smooth out the bump in her dress she had tried and failed to for the last five minutes.
Across the room, the conversation and light laughter from the River House's sitting room grew closer and clearer. Her sisters emerged, walking side by side with their faces ducked towards one another. A year earlier, and she might have suspected the sight was nothing but a dream, or one of her visions that had the slimmest chance of finally coming true.
But a smile spread across her lips when Feyre laughed lightly at whatever Nesta had said, to which her sister's flat expression softened with a grin.
Rhys and Cassian followed close behind, the former of the two cradling a sleeping Nyx (who had miraculously began dozing off as the second round of drinks were passed around) across his chest. Amren, as per usual, sauntered out on her own and immediately went for the stairs. Elain couldn't stop her brows from rising slightly when the female actually stopped and leaned against the banister, crossing her arms over her chest with what looked like a huff. Varian had taken his leave not a half-an-hour before by the demands of his position in Summer, and even Elain hadn't missed the tug in Amren's cool demeanor that bled disappointment.
She vaguely wondered if Rhys had been brave enough to request her to stay just a little longer, seeing as Varian wasn't the only company they had.
By Amren's sharp look directed towards her High Lord, she knew she couldn't have been far off.
Her eyes slid back toward the sitting room's archway when Mor howled with laughter. She threw her head back, blonde hair flowing behind her and red lips pulling into a wide smile, as she placed her hand on Emerie's arm as if to steady herself (by the four extra glasses of wine Elain had glanced her drinking, it wouldn't have surprised her). A warm pink spread across Emerie's cheeks, visible from even the far side of the room. But Mor seemed to take no notice, going so far as to twine her arm through hers and lean her forehead to the Illyrian's shoulder, a drunken but mystified grin settling across the lips she pressed to her skin in a quick kiss.
Elain hid her chuckle behind a quiet cough when Emerie went nearly as red as Mor's dress.
Her smile that had continued to spread from the moment the first of her family joined her in the entry hall softened on the final two stragglers.
Gwyn delicately tucked her hands over her pale dress, and she seemed to clear her throat as Azriel glanced down at her. The shadowsinger didn't say a word when she continued to talk, far too soft for Elain to pick up between the senseless chatter around them. But, even with his expression blank and his attention fixed solely on the priestess' teal gaze, one would have had to have been blind to miss the gentleness that melted in his eyes when she turned back to face him.
Months before, she wondered at what her reaction would have been. Whether she would have felt the hurt, or lingering sting of her embarrassment and humiliation following Solstice. Whether she would have felt anything different than the resolved relief that settled in her chest now, rather than a tight knot of jealousy. Whether or not she would have smiled as the priestess giggled quietly at whatever Azriel's response had been, and watched as his lips parted in quiet awe.
Whether or not she would have actually been happy to see the red-haired female she had only spoken to a few times finally comfortable enough to join one of their dinners, escorted by the spymaster himself.
Elain tore her gaze from the two, and traveled across the room again.
It was odd, almost, to see everyone within their little Inner Circle gathered together. The occasions where every single one of them were available for one of the dinners Feyre all but begged everyone to attend were rare, and far and few between. But when each of them were finally in Velaris' borders again, or safely tucked away up in Windhaven, her sister launched at the opportunity to bring them all together.
Elain, while not one to always enjoy how raucous the evenings could become when Mor or Cassian finally broke into Rhys' personal liquor stash, couldn't have really complained.
Especially when one certain member of their Circle would finally make a reappearance in the City of Starlight.
As if on cue, Elain stopped short on the male in question. Her heart hitched that he, of all people, had slipped through her counting.
His back was to her, hands tucked behind him, talking quietly with Rhys and Cassian. One glance at their expressions told her they were discussing something regarding his duties as emissary; one muttered comment from Cassian, though, and Rhys smirked while his shoulders seemed to slump with something like relief.
He turned his face just enough, and Elain glimpsed a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
She ducked her head, the skirts of her dress suddenly fascinating. Certainly more than the warmth that flooded her cheeks, all the way to the tips of her pointed ears.
Her hands busied themselves again with smoothing one of the wrinkles. Of course, the bump was meant to be there, simply as the dress had been designed. Just as she had made it. Specifically for the dinner.
She had tried to push the reasoning away, tried to convince herself she simply wanted to appear cordial and put-together in celebration of their family - blood and not - finally having the opportunity to see one another outside of a simple holiday.
But she hadn't been able to fool herself into thinking that her attire hadn't been planned ahead of time. Or, that when she had initially placed the order for the fabrics to begin with, that a certain male hadn't slipped into her thoughts (having heard from Feyre a week prior that everyone was going to be present, and her sister had given her a rather pointed look on the word).
The light blue of her bodice, with intricately sewn patterns of every bit of flora from her gardens around the bust, faded down from her waist line into a creamy white. Faint vine-like shapes, barely visible unless the skirt moved, curled towards the hem of her dress and stopped just before it reached the bottom, and the matching blue slippers on her feet. Sheer fabric clung to the skin above her bust and across her shoulders, but left her neck and collarbones bare with only a thin strip of blue ribbon to separate around the column of her throat.
It was a far shot from the formal ball gowns she might have worn as a human upon an invitation to a dinner among the noble families. It was still casual in comparison to the dresses she normally might have resorted to for an evening like this. But Feyre had demanded "casual", not at all wanting the night to play out into some sort of business or war meeting.
They were gathered for friends and family, not logistics and strategy.
Per Nuala and Cerridwen's help (and promptly ignoring the curious yet knowing glances they sent to her and each other), an elegant knot rested on the back of her head, leaving the ears she had taken so long to adjust to, and even longer to proudly show off, completely bare.
Well, mostly bare. Aside from the twin pearl earrings she had in either one.
Upon arriving at the River House, where she had been surprised to see most of the party already present, and amidst the low whistle Cassian threw her (earning him a jab from Nesta) and the raining compliments from Mor (who demanded to know where she had gotten such a dress), she did not miss the unmistakable hitch in one particular male's breathing.
Or the way his heart had started beating a little faster. Perfectly in sync with her own.
When she had graciously smiled at the group and hesitantly accepted the wine Mor all but thrusted into her hands, Elain had taken to a seat as they waited for the few stragglers left behind.
She had tried to remain calm, and cordial, and collected. Had tried not to let herself think too loudly that he was suddenly just across from her again, after weeks of having been stuck between the seasonal Courts.
But every few minutes, her eyes strayed from the others and returned to her mate.
Unsurprisingly, though she had heard Feyre assure them time and time again, and even saw in the letters she had sent to those not normally guests at the River House that this wasn't anything formal, Lucien still looked like the ever-working emissary; even in his "casual clothes".
His usual green jacket had been replaced by a simple yet fine autumn vest embroidered with gold a-top a crisp white shirt (of which she hadn't even been able to find it in her to scold herself for immediately noting he had left the top two buttons undone). Brown pants clung to his thighs when he crossed his ankle, covered by neatly polished black boots, over his knee and lounged back from his spot on the couch directly across from her. When he tilted his head to the side just so, the silky molten hair he had tied behind his neck slipped over his shoulder to his chest.
Twice she had had to excuse herself in the sitting room to grab another drink to fight her blush.
Once at dinner she had had to go "check the oven" to "make sure she had turned everything off" to hide her embarrassment when he caught her staring.
Three times throughout the night she had had to remind herself that Lucien was her friend.
Even if a quiet voice weaseled its way into her heart and wished for more than that.
He certainly hadn't always been. Elain had been sure at one point that he would have been nothing but a stranger to her for the rest of her immortal life, save for the few awkward and tense nods they would exchange if they had been forced into the same room as one another - with company, of course.
But it had been that way from the very start; two strangers, destined to be together by way of the Cauldron that stripped her of her life, her legacy, and her love she thought would have lasted until the end of time. That was until she no longer fit into the mold of Graysen's perfect human betrothed. And he had tossed her aside as if every moment shared between them had been nothing.
She had hated him for it; hated Lucien too, even when she had known deep down even then he had not asked for their bond in the same way she hadn't.
Thus brought Azriel into the picture.
Azriel, who she had glimpsed as a sharp yet calm courtier. Azriel, who had quickly become her friend and companion. Azriel, who she thought had turned into more than that. Someone that she could trust, someone she could turn to. Someone she could choose to love.
Solstice had been a bitter-sweet slap. A mistake, as he had called it.
At the time, she couldn't fathom as to why. Everything she had once held dear had been stripped from her, down to the very blood that coursed through her veins and would carry her into the centuries she had lying ahead of her. And she couldn't fathom why - the one, simple thing she wanted to have most to hold closest to her heart that had been shattered again and again - she couldn't simply choose it. Couldn't choose the right one to love.
The overbearing truth of it had stripped her of sleep and her appetite. She had lost track of time in her garden on too many occasions, working herself bare or until her hands were so covered in dirt she couldn't even see her skin. She had sat on the roof of the Town House that had unceremoniously become her own home in Velaris (even though it rarely felt like such a thing) for hours, staring up at the stars and begging them to answer her question if she was truly unloveable.
Truly Made to be alone.
Elain had almost been sure she was. Might have still believed it even now had she not gone to the River House to visit Feyre and Nyx that day, so lost in the endless cycle of her thoughts she hadn't even paid close enough to attention to recognize his heartbeat in the walls.
Lucien had opened the door from Rhys' study just as she had rounded the corner.
The only thing that had saved her from running face-first into the solid planes of his chest were his arms darting out to steady her. They had returned to his sides just as quickly when brown eyes had locked with a single russet and a single gold.
Their formalities were awkward; tentative; hesitant. His bow had been stiff, and her curtsy had been a little too rushed. He had greeted her politely - just as he always had - and kept the few words they had exchanged completely cordial.
Elain didn't know why she had done it.
It would have been so simple, so incredibly easy, to remind herself that there had been a bond tethered to him. Was tethered to him, by body as was to soul as Feyre had gently explained it to her. The concept of such an intimacy with a complete stranger had almost horrified her, with a male she hardly knew aside from the few glances she would have thrown his way in a room or the stories she scolded herself for overhearing (and the ones she hated all the more when they painted said male in such a kind light). But, long before Azriel had leaned forward, and she had felt his breath brush against her lips, she had tried to bury that golden string tied to her rib. Buried it as deep as it could have gone, until it was nothing but an occasional, annoying buzz in the very back of her mind.
The bond hadn't tugged her to ask him about his recent visit to Dawn.
The bond hadn't urged her to stand her ground when he blinked down at her for a second, shock rippling across his sharp features.
The bond hadn't made her nod and bid him a quick farewell after he had replied.
The bond hadn't so much as flinched until she was back in the gardens, where it ever-so-gently brushed against her chest and her heart that had somehow began racing. Not as a demand, but a gentle reminder that it was just there. And nothing more.
That's how it stayed after the first. That's how it stayed after the second. And the third. And the fourth.
Simple greetings, a polite question to fill the awkward void of silence, a quick answer (sometimes even followed by another question if the first hadn't done the job), and a simple farewell. That's how it stayed amidst the inconsistent routine that slowly began to emerge whenever Feyre invited her down to the River House, and Lucien conveniently returned to Velaris to report back to the High Lord and Lady every few weeks.
Elain would accidentally stumble upon him, or Lucien wouldn't purposefully mean to interrupt whatever she was doing. Sometimes it was tucked away in the library, where she would ask after whatever book he had in hand. Sometimes it was passing by one another in the gardens, where he would inquire after one of the flower species she was mildly confident he already knew from his time in Spring (but still walked him through each of its traits regardless). She would try not to smile if he toed the line between them and teased her a little. He would chuckle lightly if she caught herself at the start of a ramble and pressed her lips into a thin line.
With each week that passed, suddenly becoming the months that went by, the conversations had gotten longer, the pauses shorter, the accidental run-ins coordinated to designated times they would have tea on the terrace. Their cordiality began to slip from polite nods and small smiles to Elain lightly smacking his arm if his flirtations got too bold, or her snorts accidentally slipped through if she laughed too hard at whatever outrageous story he could think to tell her.
That's how it stayed.
Until one evening she had decided to take a nightly stroll through Velaris and found herself at the railing of the bridge overlooking the glistening Sidra. It hadn't surprised her necessarily when she had heard the steady and quiet beat of his heart through the crowds; it had (just a little) when it spiked for a moment, evened again, and was suddenly right beside her.
He hadn't said a greeting, no remark about how lovely the weather had been that day. Just allowed a comfortable silence to spread between them, leant against the side of the bridge.
Perhaps that was what had spurred her to say something that day, too. What had pulled the apology from the depths of her chest she had tried to word correctly weeks before. Why she had only stared at the water below her and told him close to everything she hadn't even confessed to her sisters: why she pushed him away, how she was near afraid of the bond, when she had tried to take the decision into her own hands, who she had tried to make that same decision with, where he had turned her away, what she was still trying to be in the midst of her life flipping itself on its head and carefully beginning to right itself again.
Elain almost hadn't been able to stop, and it hadn't been until the last cracked apology had slipped past her lips that she had realized she had been crying.
Lucien hadn't said a word at first. Only stood to his full height, turned to face her, and pulled her into his arms. Even now, she wasn't sure how long the two had lingered on that bridge. How many seconds, minutes, or hours could have passed with her head tucked against his chest, breathing in time with his heart.
She didn't owe him anything.
He deserved more than what she had put him through.
She needed to accept that he had forgiven it.
He needed to understand that he had become one of her dearest friends in the span of only a few months.
Elain had remembered almost every word that had been exchanged between them that night, down to the moment Lucien finally pulled away, smirked that infuriating grin down at her, and simply asked, "Friends?"
She had laughed between her tears and nodded. "Friends."
Friends.
That's how it stayed.
Even two months after they had officially labeled the relationship that had slowly begun to bloom between them, friends were what they remained. It didn't matter that excitement curled through her stomach whenever Feyre or Rhys would offhandedly mention that Lucien would be returning to Velaris sooner than expected. It didn't matter that she couldn't keep herself from smiling whenever he arrived at her door. It didn't matter that his rugged smirk he used to tease or taunt her with had started to make her chest flutter with a rather funny feeling.
It didn't matter that the disappointment that began to settle in once he was off for another Court had started to feel heavier. It didn't matter that the hope in her heart sent it soaring whenever she saw that brilliant head of red hair across a room.
They were friends. And that's how it stayed.
Elain blinked and lightly shook herself at the sound of approaching footsteps. Perfectly polished boots appeared, and she glanced up.
"My lady," Lucien smirked. He dipped his head forward in a bow, molten hair sliding back over his shoulder again.
She couldn't keep herself from rolling her eyes, in the same sense she couldn't keep down her chuckle. "I thought I told you to quit calling me that."
"Oh, but I was raised to be a well-mannered male," he replied, voice far too innocent for his widening smirk. Elain curled her fingers into the skirts of her dress to keep herself from swatting his arm when he had the audacity to wink. "Or a 'gentleman', as the humans call it."
"Or a shameless flirt," she said with a light snort.
"That too."
Elain bit the inside of her cheek and glanced down at her skirts again, hoping to whatever Mother was seemingly watching over them that he couldn't see the smile she was desperately trying to hide.
She wasn't some dewy-eyed schoolgirl, despite what she knew some of the others suspected. She had grown to be a young woman, brought out and exposed to the intricacies of society and its traditions in courting. Gods, she had even been a part of it - betrothed to be married at one point.
And yet the way her palms had gone nearly damp pressed into her dress, and her heart was far beyond her control, one would have thought she was nothing but a pretentious little girl standing before the handsomest man she had ever laid eyes on; handsomest male more so.
"Who would have thought Lucien Vanserra was the bachelor-type?"
Elain kept her eyes on her fingers buried in the fabrics of her skirt when he chuckled. Low and rich, as if warm cider were seeping into her veins and staining her cheeks pink at just the sound.
She bit her lip to keep her grin from growing.
"Now why would you think that, my lady?" he asked. Lucien angled his head just so, and it forced her to meet his eyes again.
Elain shrugged, and swung her eyes to the opposite wall, feigning a nonchalance that she knew had failed spectacularly. "Oh, I've got plenty of reasons."
"Such as?"
She tapped a finger to her chin, drawing out the silence. Elain didn't even attempt a reply until she heard a deep chuckle rumble through his chest again, pulling a smile so wide, she glimpsed the corners of his eyes crinkling out of the corner of hers.
"Too many things to pick from," she finally shrugged.
"Would a rakish bachelor, like you said, take a beautiful female out to dinner?"
Elain laughed lightly, and the heat in her cheeks brightened. His grin had turned teasing, just as it had when he had invited her the week before down to one of his favorite restaurants in the city at the edge of the river. They had lingered at the table far longer than she knew they should have (with a few more glasses of wine than she knew she should have drank), down to the closing minute. The owner of the restaurant had carefully slipped to their table and told them as such, but Elain hadn't missed the older faeries soft smile or the knowing twinkle in her eye when they hastily apologized and headed back to the streets of Velaris.
It hadn't been a date.
She had chanted it over and over again all the while she had gotten ready. Had to chide herself for flushing during dinner. Had to push down the disappointment that had settled in her stomach when he had walked her all the way back to the Town House's door-step and departed with a bow over her hand as he always did; always the well-mannered and patient male that had haunted her thoughts for the rest of the night.
It hadn't been a date.
"I think he would, but he's not very good at flattery," Elain replied, lightly scrunching her nose as if it were obvious.
Lucien held a hand to his heart, but his smirk didn't falter. "The lady is cruel as she is lovely."
She rolled her eyes again, and finally crossed her arms across her chest. He only arched a brow at her, though she caught his eyes flicking briefly to the corner of her sleeve as she fiddled with the lace.
"Well…perhaps the lady will give you another chance to prove yourself," she said, playfully jutting her chin up. "Maybe at another restaurant again, another night."
His grin slowly faded.
Elain had expected a little shock, perhaps glimpsing one of the rare cases he actually appeared stunned whenever she pushed her luck to tease him back. But she hadn't prepared herself for Lucien's gaze dropping to the floor, his jaw going tight.
Elain felt a frown slide over her smile. "Lucien, is everything alright?"
Lucien glanced back at her, but kept his face ducked, his expression suddenly mirroring her own. His golden eye clicked as it darted across her face, russet following it and shining with something bordering shame; almost disappointment. Her heart clenched, and her frown deepened at the sight of it.
Elain's fingers halted against the sleeve of her dress. "I…I was just teasing. We don't actually have to go or do anything - not to say I didn't enjoy it, I really did, and it was lovely spending time with you, but if you don't want to or you would prefer to meet here again, I'm sure Feyre would have no problem with it, and…"
She swallowed and bit the inside of her cheek, forcing down her ramblings. A smile twitched at the corner of his lips for only a moment; she didn't miss the heavy sadness that lingered with it.
"Rest assured, I would be honored to take you anywhere you'd like." Lucien dipped his head in a mock bow, but a heavy sigh went with it. She watched as he worked his jaw, eyes still scanning every inch of her face. "But there…there's an offering that Rhys has proposed to me. Feyre too."
"And that's a bad thing?" Elain asked. She couldn't keep her short chuckle down.
Lucien physically winced, and it wiped the smile from her face again.
"Not exactly. But it does mean that I won't be in Velaris for quite a while."
Her eyes widened just as her lips silently parted.
Whatever confusion and stab of worry had carefully wrapped itself in her chest at the quick turn in his demeanor suddenly gripped her with an iron fist. For a few heartbeats, oddly faster than they had been a moment before, Elain could only blink at him. Unsure if she even breathed.
"Oh?"
Lucien sighed again and ran a hand through his hair. She followed every loose strand that fell out of place, framing the golden planes of his features, and had to force herself to look him in the eye again.
"They're requesting that I be stationed in the Day Court for some time," he replied, his voice straining low. "There are a few specific alliances and trades they'd like to start working out amongst the other Courts, and Day is their first stop. The Night Court, while a part of the vague alliance they hold with the other Solar Courts, still isn't as familiar as they'd like to be - that's what I've gathered, at least. So I, obviously, will go as emissary. Though there's a few…other matters that I need to tend to while I'm there."
A frown pulled at her brows again, and Elain barely stopped herself from asking what he possibly could have meant.
"That being said, I don't know how long I'll be gone for." Lucien paused, and his eyes fell to the floor again. He opened and closed his mouth once - twice - before pulling his gaze back to hers with more effort than she expected. "I…I'm sorry. For not telling you sooner, Elain."
There was something in his tone that squeezed her heart again. Something definitive that had already been decided, and hinted at that same flash of shame and disappointment. She could only stare at him as every word flooded back to her, pushing her under in waves until all that remained was the blood rushing to her ears.
Realization crashed into her, knocking the breath from her lungs.
Lucien was leaving. And he was saying good-bye.
It had turned into a silent past-time between them whenever he would leave her to her gardening, head for the kitchen doorway, or escort her back to the entryway of the Town House that it was simply "until next time". She hadn't even known when the habit had arisen, something within her silently knowing it wouldn't be the last time she would see him. Elain couldn't even recall the last time she had said a proper farewell to him, even prior to the weeks he'd be off to the far edges of the Human Lands or deep within one of the other Courts.
It had never really been so decisive, so absolute, as the way he looked down at her now.
So uncertain as to when he would be back. Perhaps not for weeks. Perhaps not for months.
Maybe even years.
Lucien was leaving. And a hollow pit settled low in her stomach as it struck her head-on that he truly didn't know when he would return.
Genuine fear stalked to the fore-front of her mind and hissed a terrifying possibility: if he ever did return.
Elain swallowed again and blinked. A lump slowly grew at the back of her throat, and her eyes burned.
But long before she had been thrown into the depths of the Cauldron, she had been able to nearly master the art of holding a cordial and collected front for the noble families. Even she could admit, if only to herself, her mother had not fared well in all areas a mother might have needed to; the woman certainly knew how to hold a composed expression, though.
"I see." A weak smile pulled at her lips. "Well, if…if this is what you want, Lucien, then I'm very happy for you. It's a big opportunity, and I wouldn't want you to waste it."
He nodded once. The bit of relief she had hoped to settle him never came, and instead dropped his gaze to the ground again. Lucien worked his jaw, and silently shifted on his feet.
Elain couldn't stop herself in time and stepped forward. Her hand shot out and gently rested itself on his arm, lightly squeezing until he finally looked up. His surprise that she had stepped closer, much less had willingly touched him, snuffed itself from the deep russet eye she was sure could see through to her very soul.
"Whatever will make you happy, Lucien," Elain murmured. "That's all I want for you."
He didn't move, and she didn't return to her spot at the door. Elain gently squeezed his arm again, forcing herself to smile. She suddenly understood why he had taken the moment to simply look at her, not knowing when he might have had the chance again.
Her gaze traced across his face. Over the smooth complexion of his golden skin; the sharp angles of his jaw and cheeks; the line that eased itself from between his brows, softening every one of his features; the edge of his nose she knew scrunched in on itself whenever he laughed; the jagged scar running from brow to cheek she had once caught him trying to duck away from her (of which she had all but demanded he never do again); the russet and gold she had started to catch herself drowning in whenever he smiled; the soft curve of his lips as they parted, quietly sucking in a sharp breath…
Elain felt her smile tremble, and she pressed her lips into a thin line. His eyes followed the movement, lingering a moment longer than she had expected him to.
No sooner had the thought slipped across her mind, hitching her heartbeat, Lucien's eyes slipped shut and he released a long breath. A subtle resolve lingered in the way his mouth closed, jaw clenching, but it eased into a strained smile as he opened them again.
"That's all I want for you, too." His voice dropped to a whisper.
And she nearly screamed at him to stay then.
But Elain only nodded, and with more reluctance than she wanted, carefully took her hand away and tucked it in front of her, lightly clearing her throat.
"When do you go?"
"I'll start packing as soon as I leave here. If everything goes to plan, I should be gone by tomorrow."
She nodded again, unwilling to trust herself and the lump that lodged itself in her throat.
"But - " Elain couldn't keep her brows from rising as the male before her cut himself short and cleared his throat, shifting once more. "If you ever want a change of scenery from Velaris, I'd…I'd be happy to host you. Honored, really."
The tiny grin she managed had nothing forced or ingenuine behind it. A breathy chuckle even escaped her, and she shook her head. "I'm sure you would be."
"I would."
Her heart nearly jumped to the tightness in her throat. There was nothing teasing or amusing in his voice; only perfect seriousness. It sparked something around the tight cradle still pressing into her chest that near bordered hope. And Elain couldn't convince herself that, for the briefest moment, she hadn't seen the same glinting in his eye.
"I'd like that," she said, voice almost cracking on the last word.
Lucien didn't nod, didn't dip his head in acknowledgement, but something in his expression softened. His shoulders slightly dipped, losing their stiffness. Barely enough for someone that hadn't spent time with him every week in the past few months to note. But there all the same.
They were the little details. The ones she had found and buried in the feeling in her chest that curled and weighed heavy against her ribs. The ones she had secretly admired, and grew hopeful to see.
She loved them.
And the prospect of even the word sent a jolt to her heart.
Elain lightly cleared her throat again, and glanced down to her hands. "Well, I don't want to keep you. I don't doubt that you'll have your hands full pretty soon, and I wouldn't want to deter you from your really important packing."
She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. Whatever little jolt had lightened the load around her heart sank again, almost deeper than it had before.
But Lucien only breathed a chuckle, and a smile quirked his lips. "Very important indeed, my lady."
Elain rolled her eyes. She stopped herself from berating him again at the useless title as a low rumble sounded just outside the door.
The windows on the far side of the entry hall had grown dark, thick and heavy clouds covering the sky usually now dotted with thousands of stars that could have gone on forever. Another low rumble, that clicked a moment later as distant thunder, echoed over the House and the city beyond.
One by one, droplets of rain speckled the window.
Elain gripped her skirts and nodded at Lucien. She blinked quick, and hoped to whatever Mother might have been above them he couldn't see the tears stinging the corners of her eyes.
"Goodbye, Lucien."
He dipped forward into a bow, molten hair slipping over his shoulder. Elain dared to try her luck at another smile as she extended her arm to him, dipping into a curtsy as slender fingers slid over her own just as they always had.
But as Lucien brought her hand up to his lips, instead of ducking the back of her palm to his forehead, shock like no other nearly made her gasp, electrifying the spot on the back of her fingers that he bestowed with a gentle kiss.
It was short; it didn't linger more than it needed to. But the soft press of his lips against her skin, laced with a warmth that almost made her shiver, left a sort of tingle behind as he raised his head again and locked eyes with her.
"Goodbye, Elain."
Lucien's breath fanned across her fingers before he straightened himself. She returned his light squeeze, reveling in the touch and committing the brush of his thumb over her palm to memory.
Dropping his hand felt no different than drenching herself in a bucket of cold water.
Lucien carefully stepped around her just as she mindlessly reached for the handle and opened the door for him. The rain, feeling suddenly so unceremoniously ironic she wanted to scream at the sky, gently continued to fall just on the other side.
He paused at the threshold, his golden eye lightly whirring and clicking as it narrowed on her face.
But he only smiled. One that didn't quite reach his eyes.
Every word, every thought, every feeling she could have said to him caught at the lump in her throat, and she watched as he stepped out of the River House and started down the pathway.
Elain gripped the door and kept her eyes glued to his back, down to the moment he reached the end of the path and the House's wards, and disappeared in a single winnow.
Another wave of thunder rumbled across Velaris as she slowly closed the door again.
She hardly realized, until it clicked shut and the rain became as much of a fuzz in her mind as her heart racing against her ribs was, she was holding her breath, ready to hear a knock again.
It came out shaky when she released it, staring at the wood grains of the door.
Nothing.
A deafening silence overtook her senses.
Elain squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose, counting every careful inhale and slow exhale.
Quickly wiping at her eyes, she sniffed and brushed her hands over the bumps in her skirt that weren't meant to go away. Nearly everything burned, from her tears to her throat to the feeling warping in her chest that had all but ignited when she had felt Lucien's lips on her skin for the first time.
Possibly the last.
A quiet cough came from behind her. And it nearly echoed.
Elain stiffened, and slowly turned to face the room again.
Every pair of eyes in the entry hall were fixed on her.
Feyre cupped her fingers over her mouth, and failed to hide her giggle.
Nesta stood with her arms crossed and head barely tilted to the side as a smirk twitched at the corner of her lips.
Rhys, at one point, had swapped Nyx to his other arm to accommodate Cassian's slung across his shoulders, the general in question wearing the widest, shit-eating grin Elain had ever seen on the Illyrian (and that was truly saying something).
Amren mimicked Nesta's pose leant against the stair banister, though rather than a smug smile, she simply arched a sharp brow - the only sign she ever gave that hinted at amusement.
Mor flicked her eyes to Emerie just as the latter of the two females glanced back, a knowing look Elain could almost feel shared between them.
Gwyn lightly bounced on her toes, biting on her lip to keep herself from beaming and tucking her hands over her chest, almost directly covering her heart.
And Azriel.
Azriel didn't so much as flinch, or even blink. But something deep within his eyes softened, with an unbearable weight of acceptance (of all things) shining behind them, curling his shadows around his hands and slipping over his wings. Almost as if they were laughing softly at her.
Elain frowned, and nearly staggered against the attention suddenly fixated on her. Her eyes darted back across every person in the room, and she felt her cheeks go warm.
"What?" she chuckled nervously. When no one replied, her frown deepened. "Why are you all looking at me like that?"
Hello all of you lovely, lovely readers!
I really wasn't lying with my last ACOTAR fic when I said that I'm convinced the series has crack in it because I can't - stop - thinking - about - it. IT WILL NOT LEAVE ME ALONE!
That being said, this was the next Elucien idea that came of it, so, woo hoo!
As a little reminder, this will be a three-shot happy ending by the end of it (I promise because I just NEED all of my babies to have a happy ending by the end of the actual series or I swear I'll riot), so with that out of the way, I hope that all of you have a wonderful morning, afternoon, evening, or night!
- Summerwinds