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Lucien pardoned himself and slipped out of the room with artful efficiency forcing Feyre to scramble to set down her glass of wine, jump up from the couch, and weave through the chaos of the solstice gift exchange. Her cozy socks did little to help, and Azriel caught her before turning his attention back to Amren and Nesta who had immediately fallen into a verbal sparring match. Cassian pivoted in the middle of the room having volunteered to distribute the gifts, but immediately forgetting where anyone was sitting. Nyx had taken a ribbon off the top of Rhys’ first gift, and would present it to Mor, cackling and withdrawing every time she reached out to take it. Elain held her glass of whiskey with both hands and watched Feyre disappear through the doorway.
“Lucien, wait-“
“Dinner was lovely, Feyre, but I do have-“
“We have a gift for you”
“Feyre-“ Lucien looked from Feyre to the glow and roar of the sitting room “I would really like to avoid going back in there-“
“No need. Lucky for you, it’s in the library.” He hesitated. “Please?” Lucien sighed and waved for her to lead the way.
The fireplace in the library came to life, and exactly one of the overhead faelights brightened casting a warm glow over a suspiciously painting-shaped package laid out on a table. Wrapped in a deep green paper, the top edge was lined with impossibly small elegant script in gold ink. “For Lucien from Feyre and Elain”
“You don’t have to do this, Feyre. It’s okay if it’s just from you.”
“It isn’t-“
“I’m sure she did an excellent job selecting a frame, but you’re the painter in the family. It’s from you. It’s alright, I know better than to expect anything from her.”
“Lucien-“
“I don’t mean anything by that- she owes me nothing. It means a great deal to have another Feyre Archeron original, I can put it in a place of honor right next to your classic: Pig in a Fox Mask” he pierced the paper with a nail and started to tear the package open.
“Lucien-“
“It isn’t another portrait of me as a pig, is it? If it is I insist you take all the credit-“ his smile faded as he slowly removed the paper.
“How?”
“It really is from both of us. It was her idea, and I wouldn’t be able to do it if she wasn’t watching Nyx…” He sank to his knees and gently touched the perfect image of her iridescent wings. “She put a bit of work into finding a paint that did them justice.”
“They’re perfect.”
Feyre wrung her hands. “Are you… I’ll leave you if-“ He nodded. She swallowed. “Take as long as you need” She touched his shoulder and slipped back into the hall.
He didn’t know what he was expecting. A portrait of his mate so he needn’t visit to see her? A landscape of a Spring unruined? He could never have predicted this. Jesminda looking down at him with his head in her lap and his hair in her hand. A bottle of wine beside them as they lounged before a ghost maple tree. The purple leaves made the towering sugar maple glow bright in the sun of the early dusk. There was so little sun in autumn, but the sun they had was enough when he had Jesminda.
“It’s the first vision I ever wanted to stay in” Elain’s voice was probably the only sound that could have pulled him away from the scene he held in his hands. “It was sharper- they’re sharper when they’re from the past. I didn’t- it feels intrusive, but it was mostly just this.” He looked back at the painting, briefly forgetting to breathe while she walked up behind him. “I think you must have just said something. I didn’t hear it, but she laughed, and then you both laughed. I think you fell asleep.” His heart fell. He didn’t want to explain any of it.
“She- her name was-“
“Jesminda” he turned back to Elain. Her eyes stayed fixed on the painting. “Feyre told me what happened the day you left Autumn.” He looked at Jesminda again.
“I don’t know what to say. Part of me has always dreaded telling you- I never thought about what I’d say if you already knew about her.” They stayed there for a few minutes listening to the crackling fire and the distant laughter.
“I don’t really. That story didn’t tell me anything about her really. I know she’s important.” Present tense.
“She is.”
“You could tell me about the days that were lovely if you like.”
“Sometimes I wonder- I don’t know what I would do if she was here today? If she was here and I met you. Not to say- I know you don’t think of me that way. It wouldn’t change anything.”
“I think I would simply like both of you. When I saw this I felt it. If I could control my visions I might not have left.” She let out a nervous laugh.
“Thank you, Elain. I- I don’t know where to put this- I don’t exactly have a home.”
“You will.”
She grinned at him. She actually grinned at him and before he knew it she was halfway to the door with the painting in hand. He caught up to her in the guest room he had told Feyre not to prepare.
“Elain Archeron, what do you know?”
“Fair point. I know you definitely could have a home.” She stood on her toes and lifted the frame up to a nail on the wall.
“Here?”
“No, your own home.” She dropped back onto her heels and looked at him
“All mine?” She pressed her lips together, touched the corner of the painting, effortlessly straightening it, and looked back to him blushing.
“Until then you can look at it here whenever you’d like.”
Just like that she was gone. There was a burst of joyful drunken cheers from the sitting room. Certainly a response to her reappearing. It was promptly met with a wail leading into a chorus of adoring sighs. Lucien took off his jacket and draped it over the back of a chair. Feyre came up the stairs soothing a soundproofed Nyx. “Are you staying?”
“I think I will if that’s-”
“It’s good.”
“Good.”