Chapter Text
PT II
E L A I N
Sweat slick bodies heaving, Elain and Lucien laid side by side in her room in the river house. A flurry of events had led them from their walk in the garden to her chambers…
First Lucien had asked her how much of their future shared expenses he could expect to see diverted to gardening. Then he’d asked her about the medicinal properties of her plants.
He’d then proceeded to ask yet another question regarding her visions:
“Who takes up the most space in our closet?”
The question had taken her off guard. She’d never ‘seen’ the questions he would ask, but she had certainly imagined they’d be more thorough than these trivial queries about closet space and shared funds. But his questions had persisted in earnest
“Who wakes up first?”
“Who does the lineshare of the cooking?”
“Who is the messiest?”
Some answers Elain knew, some she did not. Finally, she’d grown weary of whatever faerie game he was playing and had rounded on him, cutting off his view of her flourishing hydrangeas. Lucien’s brows had raised at the obvious confusion and frustration written on her face.
“Do you not wish to know the answers to more… meaningful questions?” she had asked, her heated voice at ends with the muffled music of the string quartet that continued to play in the temple beyond.
Lucien’s expression had turned utterly rakish, his head canted to the side. “And what, lady, is your idea of a meaningful question?”
Crossing her arms, Elain had fixed the emissary with a haughty look. “Don’t be coy.”
The edge of his lip had tipped up in a smirk. “But it suits me so well.”
“Just ask me a real question about what I’ve seen for us.”
He had taken a step closer then, closing the distance between them and canting his head at an angle that allowed him better access to her lips… were he to kiss her that was. “ What would you have me ask, lady? ”
The words had spilled from her lips like water from a sieve : “Something romantic! Like when we’ll kiss! What our mating ceremony will be like! How many children we’ll have!”
Her lips had clamped shut then – eyes widening in horror at what she had admitted. She had briefly panicked, wondering if perhaps in suggesting these questions she’d tampered with the future. Her mind began to reel through possible catastrophes that could occur from her meddling, but Lucien had shaken her loose with one word.
“No,” he had breathed.
Breathless, she blinked at him, fighting the urge to look at his lips. “What?”
“No,” repeated Lucien. “ I will not ask those questions, and I’ll tell you why. ”
She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. Her chest was tight and her heart hammered rapidly. Delicious adrenaline had coursed through her veins and suddenly, she was lighter than air. She could taste him on her tongue. Cinnamon and crackling embers.
“ Because ,” he had begun, his own voice husky, “ I want to experience them myself. I do not want to hear of what will happen, I want to live it with you.” A hand had raised to cup the nape of her neck and Elain went utterly still as his russet eye darted to her mouth then back up. “ So I will wait and see how many children we have. With bated breath, I will wait for what you look like on the day we accept the bond .” A shuddering exhale that bathed her in his intoxicating scent once more. “ And as for when we kiss, that is not up to any vision you have seen. That is up to you. ”
She recognized the position he held her in, one hand on her neck, the other sliding to the small of her back. The crescent moon hanging in the sky above them, the muffled melody of a distant violin. The barest of smiles had graced her lips then.
“Our first kiss,” she had said, lids fluttering, “ is now .”
Then she’d inclined her head, slanting her mouth over his.
It had been tentative at first. She had tested the waters gently, parting her lips to allow him better access. To her surprise, his answer had been equally apprehensive, tongue slowly sliding in. When she had moaned and lifted her palms to press against his chest, he had grown bolder – claiming her feverishly.
And then, in a hasty ascent, they’d retired to her chambers. With deft fingers, they’d undressed one another and spared what could’ve been minutes or hours taking in each other’s nude forms. All Elain could recall was that he’d looked upon her with such reverence, she’d sprung at him. Her legs had a mind of their own as they’d tumbled to the bed and she’d trailed kisses down his sculpted body.
By the time they’d finished, Elain wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but she did know they were utterly spent now.
“Lady…” Lucien said, slowly regaining his breath, “your stamina is to be admired. Most ardently.”
Elain laughed, drawing the linen sheets up to her chest and rolling onto her side to better see him. He looked up at the ceiling, utter rapture etched into his handsome features. Gods he was so handsome. She wished to reach out with a finger and trace the elegant planes of his face. She’d ‘seen’ herself do it before. In the light of dawn in an unfamiliar room. Perhaps their future home.
Lucien turned his head on his pillow to look at her, his expression becoming sheepish. “When the morning comes, I’ll be gone. Tonight… It doesn’t have to mean anything.”
She appreciated the offer. Truly she did. If you’d asked her yesterday, she would’ve told you that she never expected their relationship to progress so quickly. Truthfully, she hadn’t realized that this night was the first kiss she’d glimpsed all those years ago. Not when she’d selected her dress or heard the music. It had all come rushing to her at once.
Although, it hadn’t been a vision that had urged her to chase Lucien out into the night this evening. To offer him the opportunity to ask his questions. The questions that had led them to act out the very scene she had closed her eyes and played over and over again in her mind. It had been her desire to be near him. To be closer to him. To have him sheathed in her and finish what they started on the dance floor.
“I think this is the beginning. The beginning of… of everything.”
“Everything?” he repeated, the same thumb that had traced her lip now brushing her cheekbone.
Elain nodded into her pillow. “But I don’t know what we are supposed to do next.”
He rolled onto his side then, bending his neck so their foreheads rested against one another. Their noses brushed and he held her gaze. “We do whatever we please. Visions or no.” Lucien smiled tenderly. “Whether that be going our separate ways and coming together when we wish, or whether we wish to table whatever this is for another time.”
She imagined it. Going their separate ways. Elain untethered, letting Azriel court the pretty priestess while she tended to the gardens of Velaris, carving out a place for herself. Perhaps she could dally with the local florist, a faerie woman with hair dark as night. On a number of occasions, she had given the middle-Archeron a come-hither-stare...
But then she imagined Lucien returning to Jurian and Vassa. She imagined the firebird queen and general inviting her mate to their bed. Jealousy and a primal possessiveness brewed in her chest, threatening to spill over. Her brows drew together in consternation.
“I don’t find the idea of sharing you appealing…” Elain admitted.
Lucien chuckled. “But I’m to allow you your dalliances?”
Heat bloomed in her cheeks and she nuzzled her nose against his. “You’ve never taken issue with them in the past.”
“True,” he replied. “But you’d never kissed me in the past.”
An image of Vassa, curling her fingers in Lucien’s fiery mane flashed in Elain’s mind and again her temper simmered. “How did you stand it?” she asked through gritted teeth. “It’s unbearable.”
He grinned wolfishly, but there was something haunted about his gaze. “Centuries of practice in self-restraint. Realizing that acting with haste has only ever cost me what I loved dearly.”
Elain felt a frown tug at her lips, then, as though it were the most natural thing in the world she brushed her lips against his, whispering against his mouth, “It will not cost you me.”
“Nothing needs to be decided now, lady,” Lucien breathed, kissing her again. The hand on her face slid down her neck, over her shoulder, then rested on the dip of her waist. “But I would ask for one last favor.”
“Name it.”
His throat bobbed, his eyes shut. “I… May I sleep with you tonight? Together. In this bed.”
Such a simple, humble request, yet his voice was laced with agonizing longing. Elain smiled and crushed her lips to his for a bruising kiss.
She never answered him.
Only rolled to face away from him, pulling one of his long arms to drape over her waist. With a wave of her hand, the oil lamp on her nightstand darkened, bathing the both of them in silvery moonlight.
Just like when they kissed, Lucien was hesitant at first…
But then he inched closer on the mattress, the arm around her waist tightening possessively and pulling her closer so her back molded to his front. His chin came to rest in the crook of her shoulder, and he breathed against the shell of her ear: “Goodnight, Elain.”
L U C I E N
ONE YEAR LATER
YOU ARE CORDIALLY INVITED TO THE MATING CEREMONY OF:
~VALKYRIE GWYNETH BERDARA & SPYMASTER AZRIEL OF THE NIGHT COURT~
WHEN: The Autumnal Equinox
WHERE: The Night Court’s House of Wind
~Join us for a night to celebrate the blessed mating bond of Gwyneth Berdara and Azriel. Food, drink, and lodging provided. Please confirm attendance by Summer Solstice. ~
WITH GLAD TIDINGS,
Gwyneth Berdara & Azriel
Lucien tossed the letter on his desk amongst his emissary missives with a sigh. A year. In a year the shadowsinger had been wooed into a simpering bridegroom by the pretty ginger priestess who apparently, was of relation to Beron Vanserra.
It didn’t surprise Lucien. He had made her acquaintance on two occasions and both times he found the female to wield a disarmingly charming candor. It was just the sort of thing someone as stoic as the shadowsinger needed. A kind-hearted nymph who could needle his emotions out without fatigue.
While the invitation brought a smile to his lips, it did not excite him as much as the next missive he held. One of Elain’s letters. They’d taken to exchanging them since Nesta and Cassian’s ceremony, trading flirtations and lewd remarks. His nightstand drawer was quickly flooded with their correspondences — correspondences that Jurian and Vassa were eager to get their hands on. Lucien had had to place an enchantment on the drawer so that it only opened for him. A precaution that had become necessary after an evening where Jurian had ‘treated’ him to a dramatic reading of one of Elain’s more explicit letters.
Lucien split the envelope with his index finger, removing the folded parchment and lounging back in his upholstered chair. A smile graced his lips as he read the first line.
Lucien,
Another year, another mating ceremony. I trust you’ve received your invitation by now? I trust you also realize that you are absolutely obligated to attend as my date?
Forgive me if this letter is shorter than my others, but I write this knowing exactly what I wish to say rather than parceling it out as I usually do.
Rather than waiting until the Autumnal Equinox to see you, I would have you meet me now. I’d like us to be well-established in our relationship by the ceremony which means we must secure a gift for the happy couple, arrange matching attire for the event, what have you.
We can determine the matter of accommodations after your arrival, but I assume that should not be so difficult a matter as you have the ability to winnow. Perhaps our courtship may begin with you teaching me this skill as well?
In short, Lucien: you said I could say the word and you’d come running. Please consider this letter my official summons.
Your mate,
Elain
PS
This is not my typical letter that requires postage. Please write your reply on the back, fold the note and set it aside. When you are ready of course. Do not rush to confirm because I am impatient for an answer.
With a shaking hand, Lucien scrawled his reply.
E L A I N
The letter appeared on the dining room table with a fateful ‘pop.’ To Elain’s right, Feyre clapped her hands over her mouth, chair scraping against the floor as she recoiled in surprise. Nesta, on the other hand, went utterly still.
Since Elain had sent the missive an hour ago, the three Archeron sisters had been sitting around the table waiting with bated breath for Lucien’s answer, and now that it had arrived, all Elain could do was stare at it.
“Stop stalling and open the damn thing!” Nesta hissed.
To Elain’s surprise, Feyre did not object on her behalf. The High Lady of Night merely nodded emphatically, then reached across the table and slid the missive in Elain’s direction.
Casting both of her sister’s an admonishing look, Elain snatched up the paper and unfolded it with trembling hands. Her writing was gone, and in its place, she recognized Lucien’s elegant scrawl.
Blush painted her cheeks as she read the words, the edges of her lip pulling up in a smile. She read them over and over again, the melody of that heart she could hear through the stone playing in her ears.
“What did he say?” Feyre asked, leaning forward.
Elain allowed herself another moment, another glance at his reply, then primly folded up the letter, tucking it away. Feyre and Nesta watched aghast, no doubt offended that their sister did not permit them to read the missive.
“He said yes,” Elain shrugged simply. Then she pushed her chair away from the table and departed, tossing over her shoulder, “Thank you for your guidance.”
“Elain!” Nesta growled.
“Tell us what he said!” called Feyre.
But Elain only smiled and headed up to her room, treasuring those simple words on the paper.
F I N