#evil elucien

[separatist-apologist]

Dressing For Revenge

I don't start shit but I can tell you how it ends. Don't get sad-get even.

Summary: When the end of the war with Hybern finds Lucien unexpectedly crowned High Lord, he realizes everyone he's ever cared about has been lying to him.

The new High Lord of Day Court vows revenge.

Elain Archeron is determined to see him get it

Evil Elucien AU

Read More: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | AO3

Married.

Mated was the important thing, but marriage was the condition to the entire affair. His little, once human wife demanded he marry her like a human male might. Lucien would have told her no, but Elain was clever. She’d asked while unfastening his pants, and had punctuated her question with the wet glide of her tongue until there was only one answer.

Yes. Anything you want. Yes. 

Though Lucien’s ceremony did serve one purpose, beyond pleasing the female so willing to get on her knees—rumor told him Rhysand was irate. Uninvited, which meant he couldn’t spin his little lies and play his little games, Lucien was free to hold court. To tell his own stories, embellished as they were. 

He knew just enough to be a thorn in Rhys’s side. Just enough to alarm the other four courts, who might wonder why Rhys was hoarding Cauldron-made females and trying (with some success) to marry them to his closest officers. Lucien had been delighted, telling Tarquin and Kallias the harrowing tale of how Elain had managed to escape while she stood wide-eyed and nervous at his side. 

“They’ll drag her back if they ever manage to get their hands on her,” Lucien added, sliding a possessive hand over Elain’s waist. She stepped closer, as if she needed his protection.

“If you see me there, know I did not want it,” she added, his theatrical little mate. Tarquin and Kallias exchanged a look, and Lucien wished he knew what they were thinking. If they believed any of it.

“Rhysand has requested a visit,” Kallias finally told Lucien, learning over the intimate table of food Elain had set up. “To discuss this, I assume.”

“He says you’ve kidnapped his High Lady’s sister,” Tarquin added, looking Elain over with his sharp gaze. Lucien couldn’t help but recline back in his chair so Elain could speak.

“I came of my own free will,” she insisted, unaware of how that simple sentence filled his cock with blood. She was going to come of her own free will later that evening when he put his face back between her legs. The wedding was tomorrow, and Lucien was tempted to say fuck it to his promise not to fuck her and do exactly that. 

He tempered his lust before Tarquin or Kallias were made aware.  Instead, Lucien sent Elain out with Cressida and Viviane to work a little magic—the sort that told the nobility of Prythian that his mate was, if nothing else, wild with lust. Rhysand and Feyre couldn’t be kept out of the other courts forever, and all Lucien truly had going for him were centuries of minding his own business. 

“I only want peace.” It was an endless refrain, the words falling easily from his lips each time someone suggested his marriage was merely a political ploy. Surely it could be both–he could be winding up Rhys and he could want her. 

Though, it was mainly a political ploy. The first move on his chess board. Azriel’s illegal trip into his court—and the result of his ruined shadows—were merely rival courts who didn’t trust each other. Lucien had a right to his mate, especially if she’d come of her own free will. 

Another male from another court trying to take her was a death sentence.

“He should be grateful he kept his life,” Thesan opined over a private luncheon. Lucien was all too happy to soak up the praise, to be considered merciful. As if he weren’t baiting Rhys into a vicious, violent response. 

It was Tamlin who Lucien was most interested in seeing. Spared an invasion by Lucien’s brother taking the throne, Tamlin fell into brutal moods seemingly at a whim. A diplomat in Tarquin’s court had informed Lucien that both Autumn and Summer kept the borderlands under control when Tamlin was tired of ruling and turned to the wild as a beast. 

Eris, it seemed, would eventually march into Spring and drag Tamlin out, depositing him back on the throne with a warning that next time he might not be so generous. Lucien might have laughed—if Eris kept Tamlin alive, it was only because it served his larger interests. Not one of them did anything out of goodness. 

Only greed. He, at least, could admit the sort of creature he was. 

Tamlin looked rough. He met Lucien in the Solarium, the golden sun filtering through the rounded dome crowning him High Lord. Nothing else about Tamlin’s appearance did, though. His once mighty friend had clearly seen better days. Lucien went to him, sandals clipping over the marble, to clap Tamlin on his shoulder. 

“You look well,” Tamlin said with a wan smile. Lucien could not repay the compliment without betraying himself for a liar. 

“I’m glad you made it,” Lucien said instead, leading Tamlin towards the grand hall. Let the other High Lords see that Tamlin had come, too. Everyone but Rhysand, who was too insane to be among polite company. Elain was doing a perfect job of smiling with wide-eyed sweetness as she recounted her hasty escape. 

Her fear she might be locked back up, should she stop being so vigilant. 

“Married, huh?” Tamlin asked, trying—and failing—to inject humor into his tone. “Never thought I’d see the day you settled down.”

Lucien kept the frost from his voice. Tamlin met him on the single worst day of his life. “I feel quite fortunate.”

“I’m sure. Stealing your bride right out from Rhysand’s nose. How I wish I could have helped.”

Their eyes met. Lucien said nothing, though he nodded. He tried to block that whole thing out. He and Tamlin weren’t friends, and they both knew why. He’d wanted to protect Feyre and, in the end, had thought the best way to do so was to follow her out of Spring. 

If he examined his actions too closely, he might fall apart. So Lucien shoved it all down deep, content to revel in his hatred. He certainly felt victorious, walking into that room. He was High Lord, wasn’t he? And his mate, who looked like the sweetest trophy, perched on the throne he'd built just at his side. She smiled when he entered, rising to greet him. The picture of a good, well-bred female. 

“They’ll kill you for this,” Tamlin offered before slipping into the crowd. It wasn’t lost on Lucien that Tamlin was the only one who came without a retinue. No friends, no sentries, nothing. Alone. 

Pity spiked in his chest. For just a splitting moment, Lucien wondered what it was all for. If he wasn’t better off closing his doors to all of them, mating Elain quietly, and just forgetting the rest of them. If he failed, did he risk ending up like Tamlin? 

Elain reached him, drawing some of his attention away from the future. He reached for her face, holding her cheek in the palm of his hand. “You look lovely,” he said, eyes raking over the off-shoulder golden gown she wore. 

“You look unsettled,” she said, her gaze sharpening ever so slightly. 

Lucien let her follow his gaze back to Tamlin, seated at one of the long tables by himself. He spoke to no one, goblet in hand, and no one dared to speak to him. 

“It was good to invite him,” she said, her tone sharper than he’d heard all day. Beneath her doe-eyed innocence was a female smart enough to rival every male in the room. “You should have invited Eris.”

“Fuck Eris,” was his automatic response. 

“What’s the alternative, Lucien? He aligns himself with Rhysand? You don’t have to like him.”

Be smart, was the unspoken request. Lucien was blinded in this way and he knew it. Eris had an arsenal of weapons at his disposal. None so potent as their mother, still housed and under Eris’s protection. 

“You don’t understand this,” Lucien snapped, sliding his hand over her hip to walk her up that dais. She went with him, altering her expression into one of love-sick devotion. He wished it was his normal court and a normal night so he could shove her to her knees and put his cock in the back of her throat. 

“Family is complicated, and giving Rhysand any allies at all would be a mistake. He’s too powerful as it is. Sideline people, Lucien. Put your own feelings aside if you want revenge or admit you intend to hold this fruitless grudge until you die.”

“Cauldron boil me, we’re not even married,” he grumbled, dropping into his throne like a spoiled prince. Elain took her own seat, covering his hand with her own. 

“I’ll entertain him if you can’t. Invite him to the ceremony. Remind him you two share blood…and who put that crown on his head.”Lucien ran a hand through his thick hair. “I should crown you High Lord while I’m at it.”Elain settled primly in her chair, her lips pressed into a satisfied line. She didn’t outwardly agree, but he knew inwardly his words pleased her. 

Lucien marinated in his thoughts for the rest of the day while Elain played hostess. He sent that letter—last minute, so Eris understood he was an afterthought. His mother could join, but the rest of his brothers could not. Eris could bring members of his personal guard so long as they were unexceptional, magically. And, because Lucien never missed an opportunity to be an asshole, required Eris bring Elain a gift given she would now be his sister. 

He didn’t visit Elain that night, though putting her on her knees might have settled the knot in his chest. Lucien wanted to be alone, wanted to stew in his thoughts without her trying to fix things. Or worse, reminding him of all the good reasons why allying with Eris—no matter how awful. As if she’d have ever done the same with Feyre. 

If Lucien was honest with himself, he would have admitted he was nervous for more than just Eris. Some not insignificant part of him expected Rhysand to burst in at any moment, laughing that he’d fallen for it. As Lucien carefully braided pieces of his hair, as he dressed himself, that was all he could think of. 

She wasn’t going to be waiting for him. She’d be gone, she would leave, she’d reject him like she’d been doing for years. Lucien was a mass of nerves when Arina and Ajax came for him, the pair cautiously pleased. 

“I have Tamlin sitting with the High Lord of Winter,” Arina began, eyes sliding to a stack of paper held in her delicate hands. “Viviane could talk to a wall.”

“Summer and Dawn are intermixed,” Ajax added, flanking Lucien’s other side as the pair strode down the hall. 

“Unity,” Arina all but teased, her green eyes filled with questions. Why is all this necessary?

Still, his advisors were smart enough not to ask what he was up to, and smarter still to figure it out without Lucien ever needing to share. 

“And Elain?” he asked, trying to remain utterly unaffected. Casual and aloof—and failing, if the amusement on Arina’s face was any indication.

“Ready when you are,” she said with an easy smile.

“Lord,” Ajax added, his words tight. “Autumn Court…where should we put them?”

The dungeon. The words were on the tip of his tongue as he rounded the corner. What would happen if he challenged his brother, besides? Brothers fought–and Vanserra’s were expected to kill each other, besides.

“Wow,” he said instead, eyes landing on Elain. She was waiting in the open atrium, looking towards the closed doors of the hall nervously. Color flushed over her cheeks when she whipped around to look at him. She wore a dress of white, trimmed in melted gold. Standing in pooling sunlight, she didn’t need the pretty circlet woven through her rich, golden brown curls. Lucien forgot he was standing between his two most trusted friends, rooted in place as he drank her in.

She was the most beautiful female he’d ever seen. His eyes traveled down the curve of her throat to the dipping vee of her dress. Her exposed collarbone and the pushing swell of her breasts were dusted with a shimmering powder that made it seem as if she glowed. The beaded white gown clung to the soft curves of her body, flaring to the ground gently. 

“Lord?”

“Put them anywhere,” Lucien dismissed. He didn’t care about his fucking brother anymore. He didn’t care about his planning, his plotting—anything but his mate. Standing under that golden dome, pearls in her ears, and a sunstone on her finger. 

“Hi,” she whispered as he came towards her. Lucien was suddenly afraid to touch her. He felt like that male standing before her moments after arriving in Velaris. Uncertain. Confused. 

Fascinated.

“You look…” he didn’t know how to finish that sentence. She waited, chin inclined, for him to finish what he was saying. He saw her defenses raised, her expectation he would not be kind. Was this who he was, then? It was clear she didn’t trust him.

Lucien didn’t want his mothers marriage reflected in his own. He reached for her face, sweeping his thumb over her cheek. 

“Beautiful,” he murmured, forcing the words to soften in his mouth. He’d make the first move, then. She swallowed, her heart a jumping staccato between them. He wanted to kiss her and thought he might wreck the pretty, pink paint gracing her mouth. 

He’d have her later, he reminded himself. 

Lucien dropped his hand, offering it to her instead. “Are you ready?” he asked, thinking this wasn’t quite the way of things. He wasn’t supposed to walk her down—her father was.

He was dead. Who else was left? Instead of being gifted his bride, he’d walk at her side and mark them equals. True equals, he thought. Everything Elain had, she’d earned. Cauldron blessed by the mother herself. Not by High Lords and not by theft, but by virtue. Her very soul examined and found worthy. A Seer in a land that so rarely gifted that magic to begin with—and powerful enough she could shift the tide in wars, both with her prophecy and a blade in her hand. 

Two sentries pulled open the doors, silencing the chattering crowd. It was the first marriage between a Day Court High Lord and a consort in over eight hundred years–and though rival lords were rarely invited, Lucien had turned his own wedding into a political spectacle. 

Five powerful sets of eyes would watch Elain vow before all the gods to love him, honor him, and obey him of her own volition. 

And at the resulting dinner, they would discuss what was to be done when rival lords sent spies across their borders. Lucien wanted written policy and agreement. It was only a matter of time before another member of the inner circle came crawling into Day, and next time, Lucien intended to send their bloodied face back in a box. 

Then, and only then, would he eat whatever Elain had dreamt up, haul her up over his shoulder, and fuck her like he’d been dreaming of. Lucien was considering he could have everything he wanted. His mate. A family of his own choosing, of his own making. His political ambitions, unhindered by a High Lord too emotional to be logical or rational. 

Lucien was practically giddy, stepping into the hall. All eyes on the pair of them. He squeezed her hand, hoping to steady her. It was impossible not to notice that there was no one from Elain’s family there to represent or support her. Lucien hadn’t tried to get Nesta and some small part of him regretted that. There was no way Elain hadn’t realized that she was utterly isolated in Day with him.

Even Arina, smiling brightly at Elain, wasn’t a substitute for a sister. His eyes fell on his brother, seated in the middle of the room just behind Summer. Eris was glaring at him with icy eyes, his fury a living, writhing thing. It clicked for Lucien, staring down his brother. How he could give his wife her sister, how he could keep tabs on Rhysand, could have his mother without having to be too close to his brother.

Eris would understand. Would accept it, even. No one had ever loved Eris without strings. Why should Lucien? 

He refocused his attention on Elain. One thing at a time. To get what he wanted, he needed to be patient, and clever, and most of all, he needed to focus on the most important thing at any given moment. Cementing his mating bond in front of five High Lords was all that mattered. 

Lucien, standing atop a golden dias, in a room over her noble blooded faerie in the realm, turned to Elain with an easy, hopeful smile. None of it was feigned. He didn’t love her—though he hoped to. Lucien took a breath, took her hand.

And he began. 

Lucien didn’t think he’d ever truly recall any part of his wedding with absolute clarity. Elain was too beautiful, his heart too loud, to hear the words that were spoken between them. A tear slipped from her carefully made up eye, to which Elain brushed away quickly with a sheepish smile. He hoped her show of emotion was real. It certainly felt real when she tilted her chin for a kiss, one he accepted greedily.

Married.

But not mated. That was the lynchpin in Lucien’s plan. His wife had planned a spectacular party which would culminate in Elain offering him a piece of wedding cake. It gave Lucien an immense amount of free time to work the room, Elain at his side.

“Is that your mother?” she whispered when they entered the ballroom. His mother was seated at a table close to the throne he and Elain were walking towards. Lucien’s spine prickled at the sight of her. He had so many questions that he was too afraid to have answered. He didn’t look her in the eye, though he could see from the angling of her body that she was desperately trying to get his attention. His brother had his arm over his mothers chair, that same hateful stare burning against Lucien’s back. 

He led Elain up the steps, holding her hand as he went. She sat first, and then Lucien as he was still the Mother chosen High Lord. His mother, who he was still avoiding like a coward, had produced two High Lords. A feat, all things considered. Lucien could not think of one other instance in which such a thing had happened. 

And he was angry about it. 

“How long do we sit here?” Elain asked, trying again when it was clear Lucien was not going to answer about his mother.

“They dance first, and our courtiers present us with gifts,” he explained, leaning over the arm of his throne to brush a finger against her skin. Goosebumps erupted in the wake of his touch, thrilling him. 

“Are you going to talk to Eris?” she whispered. 

“Noticed him staring, did you?” Lucien’s mouth slipped into a tight smile. 

Elain’s attention was diverted when Arina, dressed in shimmering panels of gold, padded to the center of the room in her bare feet. She wasn’t alone—the other dancers had joined, their bodies slick with coil and dusted in gold. Lucien hadn’t seen one of their shows in a while—too often, he had Elain between his legs so everyone could see just how enthusiastic their new Lady was. 

“I didn’t know she danced,” Elain whispered. Loud drums from the back of the room punched out a hypnotic beat, joining the other musicians who made the very air feel like water. Elain wasn’t the only one transfixed—when he glanced at his brother, Eris’s mouth was half open, as if he’d never seen anything like Arina before.

Lucien settled back against his throne, smug as hell. Stuck up Autumn likely hadn’t. Eris likely ruled with the same prudish morals Beron once had. Lucien made a mental note to tell Arina to harass his brother a little, if only to get under Eris’s skin.

It didn’t last long. Eris was back to glaring at Lucien before Arina’s hips ever stopped swaying. He didn’t stop—not when courtiers and other High Lords began making a processional towards them. Jewels and fine fabric and spices were laid at Elain’s feet. All of it earned Lucien’s approval.

His brother brought his mother, making up the rear of the train. He dropped an ornate, gold box at Elain’s feet with little care while his mother very clearly did her best not to cry. 

“You look well,” she managed, her eyes glassy and hopeful. Eris looked as if he might pull the dagger hidden in his knee high books and cut Lucien’s throat.

“A ruby diadem from the trove. Surely you remember the one,” Eris said. Lucien’s lips curled off his teeth, a snarl slipping from him. His own Autumn crown had a twin for his wife—one he’d tried to give to Jesminda, before she died. He hadn’t considered that Eris might lay such a thing and Elain’s feet.

Elain slid her hand over his own, offering both Eris and his mother a sweet smile. She didn’t know.

She didn’t care, more likely. She rose, having settled him just enough to step off the raised platform to loop her arm through his mothers.

“Would you care for a drink?” Elain, the consummate hostess, asked. His mother nodded, offering Lucien one last pleading look. He ignored the guilt that flooded through him, drumming his fingers over the arm of his throne.

“What,” Eris began, not bothering to conceal his words, “the fuck are you doing over here? Play acting High Lord again?”

Lucien fucking hated Eris. “Does this look like play-acting?”

Eris sneered. “You look like a child in father's robes again.”

Lucien rose from his seat, his temper rising in his throat. A rip on the bond in his chest drew his eyes across the room where Elain stood, laughing at something his mother had said. Some silly childhood story no doubt, trying to win over his wife so he might speak with her. Elain was still paying attention. 

“This is a conciliatory gesture,” Lucien said through gritted teeth.

Eris barked out a laugh. “This is a show. Tell me what you want.”

”My wife wanted you here,” Lucien said dismissively, joining the throngs of well-wishers and revelers. 

“And you wanted, what, exactly?” Eris added, those shrewd eyes never leaving his face. “Another ally in your obvious vendetta against Rhysand and Feyre? You stole his Seer, you destroyed Azriel’s shadows…he’s going to hit you back, and hard, Lucien. You’re not the only one who can work a room.”

“He killed twenty younglings in Winter. Destroyed Spring after stealing their soon-to-be Lady, and in the resulting destruction, allowed a foreign army to sweep through Summer. Who do you imagine is particularly charmed by Rhysand and his child bride?”

Eris snorted. “The same people charmed by you and yours. You have the moral high ground for now,” Eris whispered, waiting for Lucien to reveal his hand. 

“I lost my eye while he was fucking that cunt,” Lucien snapped, grabbing Eris by his upper arm. He pushed his brother towards a pillar, lowering his voice. “You think anyone in Prythian likes Rhysand on anything but a technicality? His own territory is unstable, and none of them know it. He can’t keep the Illyrians in line and is still in our business, telling us how to run things.”

“So what’s your plan? Kill another High Lord in broad daylight and hope everyone hates him as much as Beron and you get to live happily ever after in your sandcastle?”

Lucien hated Eris. He waved a hand, dropping his grip on his brother. “Don’t worry about my plans. Enjoy the party. Make sure you tell Elain thank you for her hospitality.”He turned his back, walking towards her.

One.

Two. 

Three.

“Wait,” Eris called. Just like always, Eris wanted something too. Lucien turned, cocking his head. They were still brothers. Eris knew him just as well as Lucien knew Eris. “A trade.”He hadn’t expected that. “What could you possibly want?”

“The dancer,” Eris said, his words strangely breathless.

“Arina? What—don’t tell me. I don’t want to know,” Lucien interrupted, surprised that the thing his brother wanted was a female. “In exchange for what?”

“Whatever ridiculous thing you wanted when you wrote that letter.”

They stared at each other. “Arina bites.”

An amused smile slid over his brother's cold, pale features. “My type.”

“Nesta Archeron. My wife wants to talk with her. And I want someone inside their court. Someone I can trust.”

Eris chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Nesta accepted her bond with Cassian. She won’t leave. She’s more likely to stage an ambush than she is to defect.”

“But you’ll try?”

Eris shrugged. “Your funeral. She’s toothless now. Just another declawed kitten for his court to play with.”

“And your deal with Rhysand?” Lucien prodded. Eris gritted his teeth.

“Abandon your plan. Whatever scheme you’ve cooked up, forget it. Put your female to bed and be grateful to have her.”

Lucien shook his head. “Yes or no, Eris.”

“Make nice with mother. She misses you. She loves you. We’re brothers—of course I’ll fucking help you. But fuck, Lucien…you’ll get yourself and Elain killed if you don’t back down.”

“Fine.”

Eris and Lucien stared each other down for a moment, their fingers twitching as if they ought to shake on it. 

“Arina goes if she wants,” Lucien dismissed, altering the terms before the magic settled. 

“She will.”

Eris turned, sweeping away before Lucien could offer any further questions. His brother would learn the hard way, just like so many other males, that she wasn’t about to run off to another court because a High Lord had taken an interest in her. Lucien had gotten what he wanted, and in return all he had to do was be nice to his mother.

He made his way to the pair, forcing a smile he didn’t quite feel. “Mother,” he said by way of greeting.

That glassy quality returned to her gaze. Please don’t cry. 

“Lucien,” she breathed.

“Feel free to stay as long as you like,” he said, snaking his hand around Elain’s waist. She brightened, mouthing told you as if Lucien couldn’t see the whole thing. Amera Vanserra nodded, tucking a piece of auburn hair behind her ear.

“I would like that.”

Lucien offered one more tense smile and then swept Elain towards the long table. “I’m starving,” he complained.

“Soon,” Elain agreed, lacing her fingers with his. 

Lucien shook his head, suddenly too raw for his liking. His careful walls were cracked and crumbling, and if he continued as he was, everyone would see the fragile beat of his heart just beneath. 

“I can’t wait,” he said, pulling her flush against him. Lucien reached for a chair, pulling them both into it. Those who happened to see chuckled, more curious than anything of the mated pair.

He was well aware everyone wanted to know if the stories were true. Lucien wanted to know, too. 

Elain reached over the table for a small meatball stuck on a toothpick. “I’ve arranged everything just so,” she said, teasing the piece of food just in front of his face. “Don’t spoil my fun.”

“I’ve had enough,” Lucien half growled, half pleaded. Their gazes held, and he knew she could feel his desperation. 

I can’t take another minute of their presence. 

His brother, sniffing after his friend and his mother floating about a palace he never knew she’d even seen, reminded Lucien of everything he’d lost. All the lies, the time wasted, the centuries of wishing, of wondering, of hoping. He couldn’t count the times he had cried into his pillow as a boy. Wondering why his father seemed to hate him more than his brother. Why he was singled out for every small thing, why he received no affection, no praise? 

No love. 

“Spoilsport,” she chided, but she put the food against his tongue all the same. They had an audience, people watching to see what would happen, Kallias knew, but the others were blissfully unaware. Lucien chewed, his eyes never leaving her face. He expected some vicious clanging in his chest, a bell tolling from the heavens above. 

Mine. She’s mine. 

It was his only thought. Lucien blinked, reaching a hand to cup her face. “Elain,” he breathed, as though he were saying it for the first time.

Her smile was genuine, creating dimples in her cheeks. How had he never noticed that before? Freckles dusted a constellation of stars over the bridge of her nose from where she’d been kissed by the sun. Her brown eyes were flecked with green and rimmed in gold.

“Look at you,” he whispered, drinking her in with new appreciation. “My Elain.”

She brushed her fingers over his lips, as if she, too, were seeing him for the very first time. He leaned forward, the tip of his nose brushing her own. There was a stillness to the moment, their breath mingled in the air between them.

And then a hand on his shoulder, jolting him back to reality. “Would you like privacy, my lord?” Ajax asked it with amusement, reminding Lucien he still had an audience. Lucien cleared his throat, looking up at the room. They were being watched by the amused High Lords and their courtiers—and ignored by his own. Day was far too used to the lurid displays he and Elain often put on to find any of this interesting. They danced and feasted, creating a clear disconnect between guests and residents.

“Enjoy yourselves,” Lucien declared, hoisting Elain up into his arms as he stood. She squealed in delight, cheeks flushed as she ran a hand over the bare swaths of his chest. “Stay the evening—stay the night.”

There were murmurings of appreciation and as Lucien stepped out into the hall, he motioned for Ajax to come with him.

“Make sure the High Lords know they’re welcome to return.”

“Of course, my lord.”

Lucien took off, groaning when Elain licked the side of his neck. “It all feels good,” she whispered, breath fanning against his skin. “Tastes good.”

“Don’t stop,” he asked, though the growing erection between his legs was making it practically impossible to walk. He nearly crashed into a pillar when her teeth nipped at the hollow of his neck, and just barely got them into his bedroom before he was ripping himself out of his ceremonial sandals and clothes. 

“It’s worse than they said it would be,” Elain panted, fumbling the buttons on the back of her gown. Lucien strode to tear it apart, too, but she slapped her palm to his bare stomach.

“Let me,” he growled.

“What if my daughter wants it someday?” she panted. He went still at the notion. Children. He didn’t know how to ask the question, to make her admit she wanted that future with him. Why couldn’t his political marriage have all those things? He’d need an heir, wouldn’t he?

He wanted an heir. 

While Lucien dreamt of the litter that might one day run through his halls, Elain managed to get off her dress. Her naked body was hardly anything new and yet the sight of her filled him with brand-new appreciation. Lucien went to her, pushing her against the bed as his mouth found hers. She tasted like spun sugar. He was addicted, her tongue immediately stroking against his own as her nails raked lightly against the back of his neck. He was already grinding himself against her, the head of his cock pressed into her thigh. 

“I need,” he panted into her mouth, “to be in you.”

Elain moaned, arching against his body. Her legs had fallen open, giving him unparalleled access to every inch of her. There was no rush, given they had an eternity together, and somehow Lucien felt as if he didn’t fuck her right then and there, he would die never having been given the chance. 

Lucien slotted himself against her, dazed to find her wet. Elain hadn’t stopped kissing him and he didn’t think she realized until he pushed himself into her. With a gasping breath, Elain broke away to try and look between their bodies.

“This is really happening,” she breathed, digging her nails into his shoulder. 

He hated himself. Halfway into her, Lucien froze. “Do you want me to stop?” He would—it would be hell, given how tightly she was gripping him, and he would. He’d stop, he’d get off her and walk away.

“No,” she said. One word was all it took to fill Lucien with immeasurable relief. He thrust the rest of his cock into her, holding himself for a moment while she wiggled, getting used to the size of him. Lucien was rather content to let himself get used to her—absurdly tight, dripping wet, and mind-numbingly tight. She’d been made for him. 

“My pretty mate,” Lucien whispered, teasing one of her peaked nipples with his fingers as he began his slow, measured thrusting. She arched her neck, eyes rolling into her head. “Is this what you like, Elain?”

She only whimpered. Lucien thrust a little harder, still toying with her nipples to draw more of those gasping moans. He was merely a creature of need—everything he did was to heighten their combined pleasure so he could have her again.

“What about this?” he asked, thrusting faster, letting himself get a little rough. He pinched and she moaned, meeting him thrust for thrust with her pretty, rolling hips. Pleasure skittered through him, building like an out-of-control fire. She was a match for the magic coursing a river through him.

Elain was a song, was bright, burning light that filled any room. She tightened around him, eyes fluttering open to look.

“Tell me how you like it,” he whispered, reaching for her jaw. He thumbed over her lips, delighted when her tongue darted from behind her teeth to tease at his skin. She sucked him into her mouth, teasing and rubbing like she so often did when it was his cock in her throat. Lucien could feel the combined sensations on his sensitive head, driving him half wild. 

Using his other hand, Lucien pressed his thumb to her slick clit, making tight circles over the little nub until Elain was bucking beneath him, just as wild as he felt. They were both out of control, the slap of skin combined with their breathy, pleading moans. He didn’t want it to end, and yet Lucien was desperate to finish. 

He’d wondered for so long what it would be like to have her. Mating bond or not, Lucien was certain he’d still have felt the same. Would have lost himself when he felt that first wave of her cunt pulsate around him, thrusting viciously—chasing the same pleasure she was drowning in. Lucien was loud enough that anyone nearby could hear him come. It was pure ecstasy losing himself in the softness of her, of pumping and pumping until he could feel his own emissions sliding out with each new drag of cock to make a mess of the sheets beneath them.

Lucien pulled her against him, arms tight around her body. 

“Was it what you thought?” she asked, stroking through his hair, lips against his cheek. 

Lucien pressed a messy kiss to her mouth, his need getting the best of him. His hips were already grinding into her again. 

“Ask me again in a week, Elain.”

#evil elucien #yeah yeah lucien youre so evil tell us again about all the colors in elains eyes again? #sorry for the “wait”

[the-darkestminds]

Rhysand better have fuckin apologized for this later cuz why did he make it so personal ☝️😭

#this was right after he brought up jesminda and called her a commoner #he was soooo awful to Lucien and Tamlin #I know he had to convince them he was truly evil #but bro 😭 #anyone who says they loved Rhys in book 1 is crazy he was a dick lol #an interesting dick #but be real #I looooved Tamlin when I first read this #he clearly loved Feyre sm #sarah j maas #sjm #acowar #acomaf #acotar #a court of wings and ruin #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses #a court of frost and starlight #a court of silver flames #acosf #acofas #Lucien #pro Lucien #Tamlin #Rhysand #pro Tamlin #Lucien forgave him so quickly in acowar too #pro elucien #anti ic #anti rhysand

[unhealthyfanobsession]

I want villain Elain so bad. And I don’t mean oh Elain goes a little bad and comes back.

No.

In every way that Nesta was mean on the outside and tearing herself apart on the inside, I want Elain to be perfectly sweet and calm on the outside and tearing everyone else apart on the inside.

I want her to be bone-deep in revenge fantasies.

I want her to be cackling internally at every idiot who thinks her pretty feminine hobbies make her less of a threat.

I want her to betray everyone but herself.

I want it revealed that she has been playing everyone for a fool since the war.

I want the path of mercy and forgiveness to be right in front of her and I want her to laugh at the very thought as she vows that all of her enemies will die screaming.

I want her to see their demise in her mind and decide it is not enough to know they will be brought to Justice. She must preside over their suffering.

Everything that was taken from her will be repaid a thousand times.

There is no peace. No joy or comfort or happiness. There is only rage covered over in icing sugar. There is only scorched soil that blooms nothing but blood roses.

I want Elain’s first POV to scorch the readers.

How dare you think me soft and complacent because I like to feel the earth beneath my palms. I will plant the most beautiful garden over the patch where I bury your body. I will smile every morning as I look out my window and see bright tulips growing over your battered corpse. I am vengeance. I am rage. How lovely you all turn a blind eye, so you will never see me coming.

#evil elain #elain archeron #elucien #nessian #nesta archeron #acosf #sarah j maas #a court of thorns and roses #acotar

[velidewrites]

Lucien Vanserra has lost everything: his lover, his home, his friend. Now, on a Solstice night far too cold for the fire in his blood, he watches his mate slip away from him, too—right into the arms of another male.

He makes a promise then, to the stars who have never listened—he will no longer dream. From now on, Lucien is going to burn—and he’ll make sure the rest of the world burns with him.

Note: For @elucienweekofficial Day 6: Travel! This was going to be a long-shot but the plot ended up plotting too much and now it's a multi-chapter. I hope you enjoy this prologue!

Warnings: Sadness factory, Beron Vanserra (content warnings in later chapters!)

Read on AO3

Prologue

The Autumn woods hum a gentle song.

Elain wakes up to its melody, carried by the morning breeze. She’d never been here before—in Velaris, the season is dim and grey, even the Sidra losing some of its usual sparkle. She isn’t used to the splurge of colour, a spectrum of yellows and oranges and reds so vibrant that she can’t help but be grateful for her Fae eyesight, able to grasp it all.

The path she’d woken up on is veiled in what seems like a thousand autumn leaves, some of them bronze and trampled by hunting boots, some of them accompanied by large, heavy paws. The others, though, lay out a clear trail as they reflect the sunlight’s golden gleam.

Elain follows it without question. Without a shadow of a doubt.

She listens in to the soft crunch of the leaves beneath her own boots, strangely large and black, an unlikely fashion choice for someone such as herself. She dismisses the thought quickly, though, as a chirping bird flits past her—a new harmony in the Autumn song.

The quiet flow of a stream joins it eventually as she approaches it, each step quicker than the last. Her throat feels dry all of a sudden—as if the mere sight of the fresh, sparkling water had spurred the fire in her throat. She swallows the sensation patiently—after all, the sweet, relieving taste is within her reach.

Elain kneels by the stream and dips her hands into the water, frowning at the lack of the cool sensation she’d expected.

She tries again—and again.

The water never appears in her cupped palms, evading her completely.

Elain frowns and steps in closer, her reflection meeting her atop the flowing surface.

A gasp rips free from her throat—yet another sound joining the humming melody, sharp and unexpected compared to all the others. It does not belong here—she does not belong here, there is no question left in her mind about that.

She doesn’t belong here because the face staring back at here is not that of Elain Archeron’s.

She blinks, a golden, mechanical eye whirring with the movement. Elain gasps again, strong, powerful hands reaching to touch her face—Lucien’s face, handsome but brutally scarred as it ripples through his golden-brown skin. His full lips part in shock, his russet eye glints, and his auburn brows shoot up—the face staring back at her is, undeniably, her estranged mate’s.

Elain’s—Lucien’s hands begin to shake.

What is going on? those lips move, yet the question remains unspoken firmly in her mind.

Elain rises to her feet, though her limbs act without her accordance—they possess a mind of their own, moving wherever that song carries them. Elain realises then she is merely a bystander—she is not here to change, to enact, but to watch,

She is a Seer, and this is a vision.

Lucien’s reflection in the river ripples again, and his face begins to shift—the scars seem to sink beneath his skin, not even a faint, thin line creasing his cheek anymore. His face is smooth, as it used to be—long before she’d ever met him.

When she blinks again, the eyes change, too—they are a matching pair of russet, now, and though Elain knows these are the eyes Lucien was born with, she can’t help but feel uneasy at the sight. In their brief meetings, few of them as there had been, she had grown somewhat used to that golden eye, watching her closely even from across the room. She liked the way it caught the sunlight.

She has to make peace with Lucien’s immaculate face now, though. He looks back at his reflection one last time as he finally straightens—and Elain catches his arched ears perk up slightly, as though they’d just registered some sound before it truly even began.

He doesn’t turn, though—but Elain feels a smirk tug at the corner of his lips as the feeling of yet another presence registers for her, too. It lands somewhere behind them with a quiet thud—as though it had just fallen from high up in the trees.

Lucien finally turns, and the intruder comes into view.

The beautiful female has ivy growing from her tan skin, its stem curling around her limbs in certain places—her wrists, her ankles, parts of her exposed collarbone. The leaves of rich, blooming green offset her eyes nicely—two pools of tarnished gold, and for some reason, Elain imagines it shifts into bronze under certain angles. Her chestnut hair is a sea of untamed curls, falling down her back in loose rings, some of them tangling between the ivy stems. The veins beneath her wrists appear to be crafted from ivy, too—as if it grew directly beneath her skin. 

Her curves are wrapped in a brown dress that hugs her in just the right places—she truly looks like a goddess of the woods, having descended from the high trees to bless the world with her beauty.

And yet, when she finally speaks, her words stir confusion in Elain’s mind.

“Hey, beautiful,” she says with a wink.

If she only could, Elain would blink—but instead, she hears herself groan, a deep, male sound that seems to rumble straight from her broad chest. “Please, Jesminda—I have a reputation.”

The female steps in closer.

“Ah, yes.” She smirks. “Lucien Vanserra, the cruel Autumn Prince, feared by all.”

For the first time since Elain met him, Lucien seems bashful. “Well—”

The female—Jesminda—huffs. “No well. You know you’re the only one in your family with some semblance of a heart.” She angles her head. “You and your mother, maybe.”

A wave of sadness surges through her, one that is not her own though she feels it in her chest anyway. “I really wish you could meet her,” Lucien says.

Jesminda shrugs, though it is not carelessness that lifts her shoulders—she makes it seem like Lucien’s hopes and dreams are inevitable, like his mother is standing right behind him, waving at her with a wide smile on her face. “Maybe I will, one day.” She grimaces as she adds, “When your awful father dies and you duel your brother for the throne.”

The Autumn song seems to stop at that—even the river coming to a halt.

Lucien stirs. “You shouldn’t say such things, Jesminda. Here, even the forest listens.”

But goddesses do not fear the forest, and so Jesminda winks. “Then it’s a good thing I have my cruel Autumn prince to protect me.”

—

Elain wakes up with a jolt.

She looks over her limbs first—long and lithe, that hardened muscle nowhere in sight. Her shoulders fall slightly as her gaze moves on to land on her nightgown—definitely her own, a lavender lace she’d picked out recently while Solstice shopping on the streets of Velaris.

She looks out of her bedroom window—for a Seer, she’s not particularly good at navigating the darkness, but she can make out the plush winter snow as it gently floats down from the midnight sky, draping itself eventually over the cobblestone.

It is definitely her own bed she’s sitting on, too, the sheets a pale shade of yellow she had also picked out a few days earlier. Her racing heart begins to slow its pace when she finally makes sure she had found her way back into reality. She is a Seer, but she is also Elain Archeron.

She is a mistake.

Anger surges through her at the memory—anger, confusion and hurt—but she squashes it down immediately, too fresh to revisit just yet. Instead, she focuses on what the Sight has just shown her—on the vivid colours of Autumn, the familiar face and body she’d stepped into, and the unfamiliar presence crafted from the woods and ivy. Her visions have never felt like this—they have always been draped by a fog, the sounds and colours muffled through a wall of mist. And yet this time, she could feel the autumn breeze caressing her skin—could hear the song of the forest as though it was played by her own heart. This was not a vision—and decidedly not a glimpse into the future, considering Lucien’s scarless face and him being present in Autumn at all.

No, Elain decides. This was no future.

She had been pulled into the past.

She can’t quite wrap her head around it as what had to have been Lucien’s memory replays itself over and over in her mind, a strange feeling of dread building in her chest. Elain allows it to consume her, too curious for her own good to back out now—there is nothing else waiting for her there, anyway—only that anger, confusion and pain.

A quiet knock on the door eventually stirs her from her thoughts—she isn’t entirely sure how long she has allowed her mind to race—but she guesses minutes as her sister appears in the doorway, her own robe falling loosely over her shoulders as she wipes the sleep from her blue-grey eyes with a hand.

“Everything okay?” Feyre asks her.

Elain frowns. “I’m…not sure. Why do you ask?”

Feyre hesitates, and the pause only makes that dread in her chest intensify like a whirring mill. “Lucien just left,” her sister finally says.

A quiet oh is Elain’s only acknowledgement. When the golden thread tied to her rib tugs in protest, she adds, “Was it not expected?”

Feyre’s expression looks strange. “It’s three in the morning.”

“Oh.”

Those piercing eyes are unreadable as Feyre asks, “You…wouldn’t know anything about it, would you?”

“No,” Elain’s response comes immediately and invites no further questions.

Feyre’s throat bobs slightly—as though fighting to keep back the words she so obviously wants to utter. Mercifully, she only says, “Okay. Sorry to wake you,” and begins to back away.

Before she can well and truly understand what she is doing, Elain stops her with a, “Wait.”

Feyre halts, her tattooed hand tight around the doorknob. “Yes?”

Elain looses a shaky breath. For some reason, she is certain the question will only be the beginning of her problems. “Who is Jesminda?”

Elucien Week Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added!): @melting-houses-of-gold @areyoudreaminof @fieldofdaisiies @kingofsummer93 @witchlingsandwyverns @gracie-rosee @stickyelectrons @selesera @sv0430 @vulpes-fennec @captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship @screaming-opossum @autumndreaming7 @sunshinebingo @spell-cleavers @starfall-spirit @lectoradefics @this-is-rochelle @goldenmagnolias @labellefleur-sauvage @bookeater34 @capbuckyfalcon @betterthaneveryword @tasha2627 @tenaciousdiplomatloverprune

#evil!lucien is here! #i really did try to make this a one shot #but when a fictional man wants to be pathetic and covered in blood for 10 chapters then who am i to deny him? #elucienweek2023 #elucien #pro elucien #elain x lucien #elain archeron #elain acotar #lucien vanserra #lucien acotar #elucien fic #elucien fanfic #elucien fanfiction #acotar fanfic #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #my writing

[treadsuren]

Ideas for a Elucien fanfic

* Lucien, exhausted from being despised by Elain, asks to reject the bond

* Elain accepts and after being rejected she goes to Azriel and they both get married.

* Azriel is given a mission and is accompanied by Gwyn and other secondary characters.

*Azriel and Gwyneth begin to share moments, Gwyneth begins to sing, Azriel accompanies her and while the mate bond appears

* Azriel is in a dilemma, between being faithful to the bond or being faithful to his marriage. Ask Rhysand and Cassian for advice

*Azriel talks to Elain and after a lot of pain they decide to separate because in the face of a mate bond, marriage means nothing

*Elain suffers and asks Feyre for permission to leave the night court. Feyre talks to Helion to be accepted into Day court by making him swear that he will protect Elain with his life.

* Elain begins her life at the Day court and begins meeting people who study the divinatory arts.

* Lucien discovers the truth about his father. He is received as heir to the day court

*Elain and Lucien meet and start chatting about the human world. They become friends.

* Elain, now far from the pressure that was imposed on her about the bond and the others about accepting it, she gets to know Lucien and begins to feel attracted to him. It is no longer a relationship that destiny has imposed on her, it is a choice that she is making.

* Lucien flirts with girls from the Day court, Elain begins to feel jealous. The bond, although rejected, can never be broken so it begins to be rebuilt.

* There is a girl interested in Lucien and she begins to bother Elain, Elain begins to feel the desire to fight, to be territorial, to get out of the way whoever who tries to separate her from her man. For the first time Elain feels the need to hurt someone very seriously.

*Elain thinks of a way to seduce Lucien by sending subliminal messages through the bond

* Lucien confronts her and asks her to stop . He suffered too much for her in the past and believes that his feelings are not due to love but to ambition, since when they met he was an exile who practically had nowhere to drop dead and is very curious now that it is known that he can inherit a throne for her to show that sudden interest in him.

* Elain feels deeply hurt by such accusations and decides to stay away from the Day court this time but hears how her rival mocks her. Elain decides to stay and prove to Lucien how wrong he is and also eliminate a certain fly.

* There is a party at the Day court and Elain is without a doubt the most beautiful creature in the place. Lucien can't take his eyes off her.

* Elain dances with many males and with a special one she begins to be more flirtatious. He is a male who denotes danger and lust. Lucien pushes her away and asks her to stay away from that particular male. To annoy him, Elaine begins to seduce the male and together they go to the forest near the palace.

* Lucien wants to ignore the situation, she is not his female, she can be with whoever she wants but he can't help it and he goes after them.

* Elain senses Lucien and begins to seduce the male but when the male wants to touch her she refuses saying that she regretted it

*The male tries to force himself on Elain and Lucien fights with him for her pleasure. Elain feels her blood boil with desire for him as she sees Lucien fighting for her.

* Lucien wins and leaves the male bloodied and unconscious on the floor and when he tries to confront Elain about his lack of common sense he is greeted with a kiss. Lucien feels all of Elain's lust for him, the bond that had already been rebuilt for a time blinds Lucien and turns him into a wild animal thirsty for sex, reason falls asleep and the fire burns them, they both lose their sense of time. .

*Elain and Lucien return to the palace 3 days later

#elucien #I like Elriel but not as endgame #Gwynriel #elucien fanfic #elain x lucien #lucien #acotar #lucien vanserra #pro elucien #Evil Elaine

[lamija-v]

My wrist hurts. Help.

#is this because I draw too much? maybe #will that stop me from drawing elucien? no #I swear I always talk about drawing them but items real #I have too many wips y’all are never gonna see #yes I am evil

[houseofhurricane]

To go off of you recent post about Elain: I agree, she has/had something to mourn over. Especially when not only her dream life dashed, her love was too. Grayson was suppose to love her for better or worse and she believed that he would, but he cast her aside the moment he learned about her "predicament". The poor girl had to be reeling which is why I think the theory of her trying to become human again is so interesting. What will she do for that chance?

I think this is an interesting point! And Elain has been told her whole life that she's essentially just a pretty face whose only goal is to get a man to protect her.

To be honest, I want her to be past Greysen already because I feel like that's too obvious a plot point. Greysen is a symptom of a larger problem. Her sacrificing everything for someone who treated her so badly would not be satisfying to me, even if I get why she might do it.

But I would like to see her dealing with those feelings. Ultimately, I think that if she went evil for the chance to be a human, I am more interested in what being a human means to Elain specifically than I am in her trying to reclaim a lost "love" that has never been worth the sacrifice.

I'm also not sure how I feel about the evil Elain narrative. Evil Elain, to me, seems like it reduces her to an unintelligent and self-serving character that I don't believe she is. We have a lot of hints that she is more sophisticated than her sisters think she is (particularly from Cassian's POV!) and I think her becoming evil would be difficult to pull off without making her too dumb to realize the actual forces of evil in the world. I also think that it’s unlikely that Elain, the first of the sisters to own her wrongs and actually apologize to Feyre, would willfully go against the Night Court just for herself. Especially for someone who has treated her so badly. This would undo a lot of what we already know about Elain’s character.

On the other hand, I would love to see morally gray Elain. I would cheer for an Elain arc where she feels as if she is monstrous because she has desires she was never expected to have, or because she’s now High Fae and a seer. I would be very interested in an arc for Elain that involves her going against the Night Court but not necessarily becoming evil, just having a different perspective that's contrary to Rhys and Feyre's. I could see how this could link her up with Lucien and bring her to the Day Court or the Spring Court. And I think Helion, Elain, and Lucien together would be very interesting.

Or imagine Elain leaving for the human realms for whatever reason -- evil, morally gray, or just tired of the Night Court -- and ending up in Greysen's manor with the Band of Exiles. Remember, Greysen and Lucien are living in the same manor! Think of the drama!

Long story long, I think there are a lot of complex and compelling possibilities for Elain beyond going evil to get her humanity and Greysen back.

#elain archeron #elucien #evil elain #anti greysen #band of exiles #asked and answered #i have a lot of thoughts about elain

[azrielsbxtch]

Sometimes I get why E/riels are so mad😂

Like imagine spending years bullying eluciens…putting in the time and energy…

And then finally….just when you think you’ve won…you’re reading Azriel’s bonus chapter….they’re about to kiss….and out of nowhere….

Azriel’s shadows (which they’ve written several fanfics being in love with Elain) don’t like her at all…then he goes off and starts thinking of another girls smile and burying the image in his heart….

And now they have to start putting in more time and energy creating “lightsinger theories” and “She’s evil” theories….

Basically back to square one only this time you’re dealing with Gwynriels and Eluciens😂

I’d be pissed off too😂

#gwyneth berdara #azriel x gwyn #gwynriel #pro gwynriel #gwynriel headcanon #gwyn berdara #gwynriel fic #nesta archeron #pro gwyn #house of wind gang

[simmanin]

Saw a post yesterday talking about Elain seeing Lucien’s back scars from being whipped UTM and I can’t stop thinking about it.

Can you imagine getting a “Who did this to you?” moment from a female character’s POV. Perhaps Lucien gets injured on their journey to Koschei and Elain has to doctor up his back and she sees the lingering scars. Scars that even his fae healing abilities could not get rid of. How bad was the whipping if the scars still stayed years later? So Lucien briefly explains what happened. Elain soon realizes that they serve as a reminder of what he was willing to do for her sister’s survival, what he would do for a female his friend loved. For the sake of the good. To make the world a better place, even if it harmed him beyond repair.

And then Elain being so at odds with herself because of this bond that’s out of her control, she unwittingly fills up with fury she doesn’t quite understand while looking at his back. Thinking about the horrors he had to go through. She’s still afraid to show any sign of emotion towards Lucien (or anyone, for that matter), but the tips of her fingers linger on a long, pale scar as she wipes the blood away. They spread across him like ivy on stone, but vines can’t bring a building down. And in that moment, she realizes something. Torture did not turn Lucien evil, did not make him bad. Did not steal his light.

Perhaps it was just from the crackling fire, but something seemed to glow in Elain’s chest.

I think it’s time I write an Elucien fic 🦊🌷

update: I’m working on the fic now 🫡

#pro lucien vanserra #pro elain archeron #who did this to you #acotar #pro elucien #cheesy elucien #elucien

[mycadences]

When Elain was about to be thrown into the Cauldron (so this was before she even entered the "oh so evil and corrupt" Cauldron that "definitely twisted and created fake mating bonds!"), notice who was the one who had a visceral reaction:

Also notice how I didn't include Azriel's reaction? Yeah. Because he had none. Azriel had no reaction to Elain's greatest trauma -- her transformation into a High Fae. I can't even find any quotes during that scene, and if you don't believe me, grab your copy of ACOMAF and verify it for yourself. This is why they are definitely NOT mates. Meanwhile, Lucien tried to help Elain although it was their first meeting, so how it possibly be that their mating bond is fake and created by the Cauldron when he felt the bond even before she went in?

In fact, during ACOMAF, Azriel was heavily implied to be shipped with Mor:

But Mor, as we all know, was likely retconned and revealed to be bisexual in ACOWAR (with a greater inclination toward females), putting an end to their ship.

Meanwhile, contrast Azriel's reaction toward Elain's violation to how Cassian reacted when Nesta was going through the same thing:

Cassian's wings were shredded. He was in a sea of agony. And yet when Nesta was being thrown into the Cauldron, he was fighting to stay conscious at her screams. Because Nesta is his mate.

The same way that Eluciens are undeniably, irrefutably mates, evil Cauldron be damned.

Alternatively, you can also contrast to this scene:

Azriel is the Night Court's Spymaster. Yet he didn't leave a single one of the Hybern soldiers alive for questioning? He killed them all immediately, suggesting that he was in a fit of blind, uncontrollable rage.

Which one screams mate behavior to you?

Edit to add: I finally found it! The evidence that Azriel knew to keep at least two enemies alive for questioning, so it was obvious he was incapable of thinking clearly when he killed every single one of the Hybern soldiers who hurt Gwyn.

In this scene (in ACOSF), Cassian and Azriel were attacked by Autumn Court soldiers, and if Cassian knew the reasoning behind keeping two soldiers alive, obviously Azriel (the actual Spymaster) would, too.

"But -- Elain was wearing a cobalt blue dress when she met Azriel!"

Yeah, so? Nesta was wearing an amethyst dress when she met Cassian...

... and she ended up with Cassian, didn't she? If cobalt is Azriel's color then crimson is Cassian's (these are the colors corresponding to their siphons btw), and if SJM intended the scene to be a parallel, wouldn't she have Nesta in a crimson dress?

Also tons of people wore cobalt outfits. Feyre, Eris, Helion, even Vassa in ACOSF. I guess we should start shipping Vassa and Azriel! Azris shippers should celebrate, since by Elriels' logic your ship is confirmed!

And if you really want to compare outfits, I think it's significant that both Azriel and Lucien draped their coats over Gwyn and Elain respectively in light of their traumatic experiences. This is how you do a proper parallel.

Even SJM herself alluded to being an Elucien shipper:

Yes, this was from her actual Pinterest account before she took it down. If you search online for it, you'll find other people talking about it and that this is true, it's not just some random fake account lol.

Elriels claim that Gwyn is the red herring in their ship. I propose the opposite -- Elain is the red herring in Gwynriel's ship, like how Azriel is the red herring in Elucien's ship. Because think about it, if Elriel were really meant to be, why would SJM need to introduce Gwyn as a potential love interest for Azriel? She already had one red herring in Lucien, did she really need a second one? No, she didn't. So why? Why does all the evidence, new and old, point toward Gwynriel and Elucien and not Elriel?

Because there was never Elriel. Elriel were never mates, nor would they ever be. There was only ever Elucien (which came first) and Moriel (but Mor was retconned into being bisexual), which eventually gave rise to Gwynriel and highly likely Emorie (Mor x Emerie).

#gwynriel #pro gwynriel #elucien #pro elucien #antielriel #now I sit back and sip my tea #ahh typing this was refreshing

[separatist-apologist]

Dressing For Revenge

I don't start shit but I can tell you how it ends. Don't get sad-get even.

Summary: When the end of the war with Hybern finds Lucien unexpectedly crowned High Lord, he realizes everyone he's ever cared about has been lying to him.

The new High Lord of Day Court vows revenge.

Elain Archeron is determined to see him get it

Evil Elucien AU

Read More: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | AO3

Elain paced the patio until she’d worn the lapis lazuli tiles to near dust. Just behind her, Lucien clicked his teeth with exasperation. 

“Just read the godsdamned letter, Elain,” Lucien ordered, his patience running thin. She didn’t turn to look at him, unappreciative of his tone. She knew what she’d find, besides. Lucien without a shirt, lounging in that white cloth draped around his hips with nothing beneath. She was so dangerously close to seeing his cock before they were married, which she was trying to avoid. Despite all his innuendo, Lucien had done nothing outside of kissing her in that pool of blood.

And making her sit in his lap each morning. His little trophy of war, though he’d never said it. He didn’t need to say so—Elain understood why he kept her spread out the way he did. Let everyone see how virile, how masculine and dominant he was. She was merely a pawn. Lady of Day, sure, but a pawn, too. Her beauty was a decoration he could put on display whenever he liked. 

Elain peeled the black wax seal from the letter with a long nail. She ignored the silver dusted mountain insignia, well aware this came from Feyre. Azriel would have returned, shadowless and injured, with the news she was being held by Lucien.

Willing. She could almost taste how Azriel would whisper that word. Elain swallowed the rising amusement that felt too cruel to acknowledge even to herself. The horror Feyre would have felt, the shock and surprise on the High Lord’s face. 

Elain? 

Surely not. 

Surely. 

Elain didn’t want to know what her sisters made of it. Turning, she let her eyes rake over the broad, muscular chest attached to Lucien’s beautiful, smug face. He held out one of his large hands and she gave him the letter.

“Cowardly,” he taunted her, unfolding the letter with open amusement. He cleared his throat, and then with a voice pitched comically high, began to read the letter.

“Elain,

I cannot begin to the describe the horror of the last few days. From learning you were gone to finding out you helped trap Azriel in the Day Palace, I am just beside myself with hurt and anger. Neither of you had any right to attack a member of our court, let alone what you’ve actually done to him.

And to flaunt it so brazenly with your sham wedding, well…I thought you were better than that. I would like an audience with your High Lord. After everything I’ve done for him, he owes me. I didn’t write him directly given how he refuses to be mature about our disagreements, but he has officially taken matters too far.

I expect a response before the end of the week. Given I doubt the sincerity of your wedding, it shouldn’t be much trouble.

Feyre.”

Lucien chortled as Elain ripped the paper from his hand, unable to believe the tone of Ferye’s letter. 

“There is no way,” Elain breathed, scanning the words.

“I’m impressed it wasn’t written in crayon,” Lucien replied. “I wonder if Rhys taught her some new words for this. Brazen seems a little advanced for Feyre.”

Elain ignored Lucien’s digs, outraged by Feyre’s demands. “She thinks we should drop everything and what? Apologize? He had no right to be here—”

“Ah, but that's where you’re wrong,” Lucien murmured, rising from his chair. “Rhysand believes his presence in the other six territories should go unquestioned. Our treaty is very clear on what happens to traitors and spies. I wouldn’t expect Feyre to know, of course, given I doubt she can do simple multiplication. She ought to be grateful Azriel returned with his head.”

“I wish you would have taken his wings,” she said. Lucien’s calloused hands skimmed over the sides of her arms.

“In time, Elain,” he offered, sliding his nose through her hair. Elain pushed away, frustrated Lucien had chosen that moment to make his arousal known. She was right across the hall from him—all he had to do was walk ten paces and he could have her. 

“I’m not meeting with her.”

“She has no right to demand it of you,” Lucien agreed with a  shrug of his broad, naked shoulders. “Would you like me to correct her grammar and send the letter back?”

Elain paused, eyes lighting on his face. “Is that what you’ve been doing?”

Lucien laughed. “Just because Rhys wanted an illiterate wife to rule his territory doesn’t mean I have to respect his decision. I like to think she’s learning something—every time she sends a new letter, her penmanship is a little better, at least.”

It was so deliciously cruel. Elain knew it should abhor her to know how petty Lucien could be. Perhaps there was no length Rhys could stoop to that Lucien wouldn’t meet. Elain took a step towards him, pressing her hand to his chest. 

“That’s so cruel, Lucien,” she murmured. He reached for that hand, bringing her palm to his mouth. 

“I can smell your arousal, Elain.”

He pulled her closer, until her body was flush against his own. Eyes made of flesh and metal searched her face, waiting to see what she’d do. Would she rebuff him? Rebuke the male he was and retreat? Elain didn’t think Lucien would let her go even if she asked.

Not that she would. The threat between them hummed with approval, pulled taut from their shared need. 

“They made me apologize to Feyre for those years when we were mortal,” Elain whispered, thinking of that first meal with Rhysand. Afterwards, Nesta had quietly cried in the room just beside Elain’s. Humiliated by creatures far older than them, that seemed to enjoy watching them squirm and suffer. Cassian had never given Nesta a moment’s reprieve. He’d decided he’d have her—but not as she was.

As he wanted her. 

“How did that make you feel, Elain?” he asked, cupping her face. Lucien forced her to meet his gaze, his thumb rubbing over her lips.

“Feyre hunted. No one asked her to do that…and no one asked how all that meat was cooked. Who cleaned her clothes, her sheets, their cabin. Who chopped wood, Lucien? Who sewed the patches in the clothes she wore? Who made soap, or fetched the water for bathing? She’s invented this reality where the only thing that mattered was the carcasses she dumped on the table, that what she provided was the only worthy contribution, and Nesta and I need to apologize that she was forced to do it at all.”

Elain’s chest heaved, not from desire, but her long pent-up anger. “She didn’t even notice us. Feyre never cared that Nesta sewed up her clothes every time there was a tear—without being asked, without demanding praise. She never commented on how we always had soap and where or how we got those supplies. Just complained how we spent her money. Poor, long-suffering Feyre. She made herself a martyr without ever consulting the rest of us, and then demanded we atone for it.”

Lucien stroked her cheek. “That’s certainly not the story I was told.”

“Of course it wasn’t!” Elain shrieked, furious with Feyre and her manipulative family history. “Because she didn’t value anything we did. It was all just a given! Like Nesta and I were supposed to be her mother, were supposed to read her mind! We fell into poverty at eleven, tell me why Feyre never learned to read! We had a governess from the time we were toddling about, but Feyre couldn’t be bothered. She was somehow both above us—better than us—-while also victimized by us. It’s unfair that only her pain counts. Nesta and I suffered, too. I always thought, before Rhysand came, that we were in that cabin together. That we didn’t have much, but we had each other.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Lucien reassured her softly. “He poisoned her mind long before she came to see you again.”

“I think she was always like this,” Elain whispered, pressing her cheek against his chest. “I want Nesta back. She was mine first.”

“We could try,” he offered, kissing the top of her head. “But if she accepted her bond…”

Elain’s own unaccepted bond threatened to drive her mad some days. She couldn’t leave him and she knew it. Call it a cruel trick of fate, but Elain wanted Lucien beyond reason. She could excuse anything he might do—had already enjoyed what she’d seen thus far. 

Nesta, too, would be lost under that same spell. Cassian would never betray Rhys, and Nesta would never betray Cassian. It was unfair. Nesta had been her sister first. It was Feyre who was the interloper, the intruder—even their mother had noticed.

“We have to focus on us—our court,” Lucien finished, peeling her off his body. “Which means letting your sisters go. Can you do that, Elain?”

She didn’t know. Still, Elain nodded yes all the same, if only so he wouldn’t threaten to send her back. 

“Good girl,” he praised, kissing her cheek. “Do you want me to respond to Feyre on your behalf?”

It was cowardly to agree to that, and yet Elain nodded again. What would she even say? When Feyre could ignore every wrongdoing or worse, twist it until she believed she was in the right? How did Elain begin to argue that? Azriel would have his shadows had he not intruded in their palace. Surely Rhysand must have known. 

Lucien, seemingly reading her mind, caught her by the wrist before she could scamper off. “If we had truly done something wrong, we would have the might of the Illyrian Army bearing down on our doorstep. Feyre is merely playing on what she perceives to be your weakness.”

“Which is what, exactly?” 

“Your goodness,” Lucien breathed, lowering his mouth. “Which she assumes is all there is to you.”

“She doesn’t know anything about me,” Elain replied, wishing he’d kiss her. It was hardly the right moment for it, and still she wanted to taste him, if only a little. 

“Nobody does,” Lucien agreed. She wasn’t given a chance to tell him he didn’t, either. His mouth slanted over her own, effectively silencing what would have been an argument between them.

Lucien assumed he knew everything because they were mates. That his wants were her wants. His feelings were her feelings.He wasn’t wrong, at least at that moment. He wanted to kiss her and she wanted that, too. Elain slid her hands up the broad, muscular planes of his chest, tangling her fingers in his long, auburn hair. Lucien moaned softly, gripping her tight against him. It was Lucien who deepened the kiss—his tongue slid over the seam of her lips, demanding entrance. Elain opened for him, losing herself to the onslaught of sensation. His lips were soft, but firm. When his tongue stroked over her own, she swore she could feel it between her legs. 

She didn’t mean to bite his bottom lip. Standing on her tiptoes so she could reach him made the kiss a balancing act, and when the sole of her sandal slipped, her teeth sliced into his bottom lips.

Lucien growled as blood flooded the kiss, gripping her hair tightly. He liked it, she realized. Like that tinge of violence. 

“Go,” he panted, grinding his cock into her hip all the same. “Before I fuck you here and now.”

“Lucien—”

“Go,” he ordered, magic lacing his words. She had to obey, had to pull herself off him when all she wanted was to please him. Heat flooded between her legs, her arousal so potent she could scent it, too. 

She did as she was told, ignoring the urge to tell him that maybe she wanted that. No one spoke to her that way, and hearing Lucien so dismissively objectify her was almost thrilling. Offensive.

But thrilling, all the same. She was a real person to him and not some fragile object best housed behind glass for display. Beautiful to look at, but never to touch. 

Elain had the sense he would not be gentle. That he would bruise her skin, would leave imprints of his teeth, would fill her mouth with blood and stain the sheets of her bed so irrevocably the only thing to do in the aftermath would be to burn them.

Elain wanted Lucien to so thoroughly debauch and defile her that the very thought of letting her walk back into the prudish Night Court made everyone sick to their stomach. That when they averted their eyes, cast down to the floor, it was not because they found her too lovely, but too terrifying. 

Their separation was odious. Elain could barely stand it and when it came time to meet him in the throne room, she all but tripped over the hem of her white dress, pulling the deep slit between her breasts wide open for everyone to see. The gown itself was merely one carefully folded piece of cloth, tied together with a rather lovely gold belt. Easy to remove if Lucien wanted to.

He reclined on his throne, legs spread suggestively. Head resting against his hand, the other beckoning lazily as he ignored the salty musk of arousal in the air.

These little parties always devolved into raucous orgies she was not allowed to participate in. Only watch from the safety of his lap while his rigid cock nestled against the small of her back.

Tonight would be different.

“What are you thinking, pretty wife?” Lucien asked when she reached him. He slid his hand over her waist, fingers brushing the bottom of her breasts. “You look like you’re plotting.”

“I’m not your wife,” Elain replied primly. She regretted the upcoming, drawn-out affair. Elain could see the wisdom in Feyre and Nesta’s quick ceremonies, even if she appreciated Lucien giving her something she’d always coveted as a human.

An actual, honest-to-goodness wedding. 

“You are my wife,” Lucien replied, lips against her neck. One of his fingers idled over her knee, teasing towards her thigh. “You have been since you fell out of that cursed Cauldron.”

“I always knew you were crazy,” she replied, reclining against the solid musculature of his chest. A laugh rumbled through him. 

“And yet here you are. In my lap. Reeking of arousal.”

“Untouched, still,” Elain dared to remind him. A growl slipped from Lucien’s throat, his fingers slipping beneath one of the pleats of her dress to rub against her bare skin. 

“Are you asking me to touch you?” he asked. She’d forgotten his court was still in the early throes of partying—everyone was still dressed, still touching politely.

Or, as politely as anyone ever was in Day Court. 

Elain slid her hand behind her, running it over his bare thigh. Her fingers met the cloth draped around his waist, and instead of pushing it to the side, she merely gripped him over the fabric. With one teasing stroke, Elain offered up a bored gaze to the courtiers beneath the dais she was perched on.

And shrugged. 

She had no road map for teasing a man—and certainly not a male. What she knew came from the near-pornographic books she’d found in the library and what she’d seen in Rhysand’s Court of Nightmares. Elain was hoping unchecked confidence would take her most of the way, and Lucien would pick up the rest. She stroked again, the angle awkward. Lucien shifted, spreading his legs further until she was practically straddling one of his nearly naked thighs. She knew he could feel she was wearing nothing beneath the dress, and when he rubbed, her own wet arousal stamped over his skin. 

His teeth tugged against her ear. “You’re making a mess of me, Elain.”

Could he tell how nervous she was? Whatever remained of her humanity was mortified, was screaming with shame—close your fucking legs. Elain could have snapped her knees together and sat primly, could have pretended she’d never touched the thick length of him—that she didn’t know how big he was. 

Elain arched her neck, looking upwards at the vaulted gold of the ceiling. Lucien’s fingers passed higher and higher over her thigh, stroking her just as absently as she was touching him. Elain knew he was hardly unaffected. His heart pounded violently against his chest, drowning out the sensual music playing around them. 

No one looked directly at their High Lord, and yet Elain was certain everyone was watching. Egging them on. While they writhed and touched and tasted, Lucien had remained utterly unmoved. Elain wondered how often he’d descended into the fray before she arrived, losing himself to the pleasure of his court. And, perhaps just as wicked, she wondered what it would be like to climb out of his lap and pick her favorites. To invite them into her bed, to see what the other immortals had experienced without an ounce of guilt. 

“What happens when I become your wife?” Elain asked, thinking of how possessive her own sister's mates were. 

His finger dragged up the soaking-wet center of her without warning. Elain twisted, squeezing the base of his cock without thinking. Lucien inhaled not from pain, but obvious pleasure.

“I’ll start calling you Elain Spell-Cleaver,” he replied rather flippantly, rubbing over her cunt with idle, soft touches. Her thighs fell open of their own accord, stripping her of the last vestiges of her whatever modesty she clung to. Elain’s gaze turned to the corner of the open room, where two females were currently kissing against a large, carved pillar. They wanted to be watched.

So did she. 

“Will you lock me away?” she asked him, releasing her awkward hold on his cock so she could readjust herself into his hand. Head lolling over his shoulder, Elain could look up at him from this angle. Could incline her head and drag her tongue over the hollow of his throat. 

“Lock you away…breed you mercilessly until I double Beron’s record…parade you about only when it suits me…” Each statement was more absurd than the last. Elain bit against his collarbone hard enough to leave an imprint of her teeth and Lucien groaned. 

“I do intend to breed you, but as for the rest…” His fingers threaded through her hair, jerking hard enough that her throat was exposed to his lips. “You’re my wife, not my pet and if you want to play at court, all you have to do is ask.”

Lucien teased at her entrance, circling the sensitive skin without ever penetrating. He knew what she wanted instinctively and Elain wondered if it was because mates were evenly matched. He knew what she wanted because he wanted it, too. She arched upwards, trying so hard to get him to plunge into her, to fuck her with his hands.

Lucien slid up to her clit, back to teasing the nub with the soft, slick pads of his fingers. 

“If I fuck you, I’ll be too tempted to put food in your hands,” he whispered, teeth scraping over her skin. “But cauldron boil me, you’re so wet. I’ll bet you’re tight, too.”

She whimpered. 

“I’ll make you a deal, Elain. I’ll do something for you and you’ll do something for me.”

“Yes,” she agreed, not caring he could have demanded anything. He chuckled, removing his hand from between her legs entirely. Elain watched as he brought them to his lips, sucking them slowly until they were entirely clean.

“Just as I thought. Sweet.”

He slipped his arm beneath her knees, setting her on the throne as he stood. The outline of his straining cock was almost comical. Elain was afraid he was going to make her watch someone service him, that she’d be trapped on that throne while Lucien had his fun, returning only when she was a quivering, miserable mess.

He slid to his knees before her, his back to his court. Golden crown atop his head, Lucien made a mockery of the pageantry of the High Lord. Placing his large hands on her knees, Lucien slowly spread them obscenely, pushing aside the fabric of her dress so she was entirely exposed to him—and anyone else who cared to look. 

“Messy,” he praised, his one russet eye drowning in lust. “Someone has to clean you up.”

Elain moaned when he lowered his mouth against her, his tongue lapping at her arousal like he was some kind of untrained, feral animal. Maybe he was—that first taste certainly seemed to undo him. Lucien’s fingers dug into her thighs, holding her open and keeping himself anchored in place. 

She should have told him no. She certainly shouldn’t have grabbed at his head, threading her fingers through his hair to keep him where he was. Nothing in her entire life could have prepared her for how divine his tongue felt against her sensitive flesh—how softly he’d circle over her clit, drawing maddening shapes until she was writhing against his face. 

Lucien pressed one of his fingers against her, teasing her with the possibility of being fucked, all while licking and sucking. She was desperate, was wiggling in an attempt to force him into her just so she’d have something to grip. Elain wanted—needed—to be filled.

He plunged two of his fingers into her body without warning. She screamed, forgetting where she was or that she had an audience. Elain rolled against him, meeting him thrust for vicious thrust. It wasn’t enough, would never been enough. Release danced up her spine, pooling in her gut and when he pushed that third long finger into her, it was enough to send Elain spiraling over the edge. His lips sucked around her clit, tongue teasing as she came in an explosion of dancing golden light. He didn’t stop when she came down, still pumping, still licking, until she was sobbing and sensitive. It was too much.

Elain pushed at his head, but Lucien didn’t budge, dragging her back up over the edge before letting her freefall over. Pleasure was edged with pain, a bittersweet sort of bliss. One she prayed he freed her from when she came back to herself, boneless and shaking on that throne. 

Lucien lips came off her with a loud, sucking pop. Red lips glistened from her arousal, and when he drew forth sticky fingers coated in her orgasm, it was her mouth he pressed them into, making her taste her own release. 

“Your turn,” Lucien murmured, rising to his feet. She knew it was coming, and still felt nervous at the thought of kneeling between his legs and pleasuring him. He replaced her on that throne, legs spread while Elain shakily arranged herself between his knees.

“Have you done this before?” he asked, noting the way she hesitated.

“No,” she admitted, still hazy from the pleasure he’d pulled from her. A flash of what might have been regret streaked over his features. She didn’t want his pity. Elain pushed aside the bolt of fabric that kept Lucien from exposing himself to the world, freeing the thick, swollen cock she’d felt the last few nights. It was nothing like Graysen’s, which seemed almost polite—cute, even, when compared to the heavy appendage bobbing in her hand. 

“We can take this to my bedroom—”

“How hard can it be?” Elain interrupted, drawing a steadying breath. She understood the mechanics of what he was asking her. Put him in her mouth, suck, and try not to vomit in his lap. If he could get on his knees and eat her out, she could certainly repay the favor. Besides, the bargain between them tugged, demanding she uphold her end. 

Elain licked the underside of his cock, letting herself taste the bead of fluid pooling over the tip of his cock. Lucien shuddered, throwing his head back when he felt her tongue swirl against him. Elain watched him closely, drinking in the way he panted when she took only the head of him in between her lips. There was no way to take him all—she wasn’t practiced enough to even try. 

Not that Lucien seemed to care at all. Elain kept one hand braced on his thigh, delighting in how rigid the muscles were just beneath his skin when she made a fluid, wet pass over his cock. 

It was obscene, pulling her mouth off his so he could watch a rope of saliva connect the pair of them. She held his gaze, moving in near slow motion just to see what he’d do. She braced herself for him to grab her by the back of the head and force her back on him, to punish her with the throbbing cock standing erect between them.

Chest heaving, Lucien gripped the arms of the throne he sat on. He looked wild.

“Elain,” he panted, his knuckles white with the effort it took to keep him rooted in place. “Elain please.”

A thrill shot down her spine. Was the High Lord begging her? She licked the underside of his cock and Lucien whimpered, eyes all but burning a hole through her. She could hear his thoughts.

More, give me more—

She sucked as much of him into her throat as she could, gagging when there was no more give. Lucien’s hips flew off the throne, pushing further and robbing her of any ability to breathe. It was pain all over again, and Elain liked it. No one else would have dared at all. Elain wondered if it had ever occurred to Lucien that he shouldn’t fuck her throat—that he ought to be kind and gentle with her.

He was her mate. He liked to be fucked rough, and just assumed because he liked it, she must too. After all, what kind of cruel goddess would pair him with someone who didn’t?

He was right, though Elain lacked experience to know the finer aspects of it. She knew she liked the careless way he gathered up her hair and held her face still, how his hips pumped into her until tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Fuck me, Elain,” he gasped, thumbs swiping the moisture from her skin. “Look at my pretty mate and her pretty mouth. You suck me so well. Gods, you suck like you were made to do nothing else.”

She couldn’t respond, though she did try and widen her jaw to take more of him. She was rewarded by another loud groan. Lucien’s back arched, his legs bracketing her against his body. He was trembling and she understood why—thrusting viciously, Elain gagged as his salty release poured itself hot and fast straight down her throat. She couldn’t swallow it all, still choking on his cock. His come dribbled over her chin and down her neck, marking her as his. 

Lucien withdrew himself, pulling her back into his lap for a messy, claiming kiss. She knew he could taste his own release on her lips, on her tongue, and was aroused all over again at the realization that he liked it. 

He swept her up, still kissing her like a frantic madman. The noise of the room slipped back into the bubble around them, bringing with it the unmistakable scent of sex. She didn’t care enough to look, was too lost in the kiss, in the jostling of her aching body against his own. 

“After the frenzy, I want you to pick your favorite female to bring to our bed,” Lucien gasped, pushing through the throne room doors.

“What if I want a male?” she challenged.

“Bring him, too,” he said against her lips. His steps were hurried—rushed. She wondered if he’d abandoned his plan to have sex with her. If they’d forget their political plans and give in to instinct instead. Rationally, she knew it was a terrible plan.

And still, when Lucien dropped her atop his bed and shed himself of the last of his clothing, revealing himself in all his naked, bronzed glory, Elain wished he would. She was quick to do the same, laying herself out for his ravenous gaze. 

She realized far too late that what Lucien really wanted was just to touch her. Pulling back the blanket and nestling her against his chest, Lucien ran his fingers up and down her bare spine with unguarded reverence. She didn’t realize how badly she’d needed that until it was just them between those silken sheets, far removed from the world around them. 

She felt the mask he wore slip. Lips against her shoulder, he whispered, “I’ve been thinking about this for years. Since I first saw you.”

“What? Holding me?” she asked, brushing strands of hair off his face. She wondered who had. If anyone had ever touched him outside of sexual gratification. He was so beautiful, so lovely it made her ache.

Maybe she wasn’t the only one treated like a breakable object better left behind glass. Something to admire, too pretty to mar with oil slicked fingers. She inched forward, pressing a soft kiss to his mouth. 

“Yes,” he admitted, eyes fluttering shut. “But more than that. Not just being held, but wanting to be. Wanting me.”

There were a million good, reasonable reasons to ally with Lucien. He could give her everything she wanted. Her feelings, outside of her common sense, were impeded by their bond. She couldn’t think straight for wanting him. Giving in had helped clear some of that way, if only for a little while. She knew it would all come rushing back in the morning, that she’d be back to panting over him like an animal in heat. 

He traced her lip with the pad of his thumb. “I’d choose you, too,” he whispered as if he knew she needed to hear it. Elain kissed him again, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck. Lucien’s arms tightened around her body, holding her like she’d evaporate into the air if he didn’t.

“I know,” she said, mouth against his skin. “So would I.”

And at that moment, lost in the glittering dark, nothing she’d said had ever been quite so true. Elain held him, too,

“So would I.”

#elucien #elucien fanfic #elucien fanficition #elain x lucien #evil elucien #karma is her boyfriend

[meldarkthrop]

Schedule of the antis:

Monday: "Elain will reject her mate and choose Azriel"

Tuesday: "Elain has two mates actually and she'll pick Az"

Wednesday: "Az is the only true mate of elain"

Thursday: "There's a cauldron mate, mother mate, classmate—"

Friday: "Elain will duel Lucien and save Az"

Saturday and Sunday: Repeat it all. And add "By the way, Gwyn is an evil lightsinger."

Them, internally: Haha we theorized every possibility, we can't be wrong teehee.

After Elucien, the canon fated mate pair, is endgame in a book written by a fated mates author:

#elucien #pro elucien #anti e/riel #lucien vanserra #elain x lucien #did i miss any other crack theory? #elain archeron

[acourtofthought]

The Asteri arrange bondless matings in Midgard to produce powerful offspring. The Asteri corrupted the Cauldron. ACOTAR is the only world where the Cauldron has influence. ACOTAR is the only world where we know some matings bonds can be wrong. Rhys says mating bonds may be from the Mother or the Cauldron, and might just be to produce powerful offspring. If SJM wants to make Elain and Azriel true mates she's already done all the work. It's all in canon. Elriel, Nessian, and Feysand could all have bonds from the Mother, just like in CC and TOG. Elucien could have a bond from the corrupted Cauldron. It's not that hard.

In 15,000 years.

After Danika / Baxion, Kallias / Vivianne, Feyre / Rhys, Rowan / Aelin, Bryce / Hunt, Nesta / Cassian, and so on.

In 15,000 years, ONLY the Elucien mating bond is corrupt? Those are some fucking odds, let me tell you. And damn, Elain and Lucien must be really important to be the sole recipients of such a unique plot with such far reaching implications.

It's really strange how the Asteri, who have never met Elucien and will never meet Elucien considering the ones on Midgard who are responsible for all this corruption are (spoiler) DEAD, would have gone to so much trouble.

If you're trying to claim Elain and Lucien were mated only to create the most powerful offspring than I feel pretty bad for E/riels future children since you're telling me they will just never measure up and that Az is in fact the weakest link.

It's also really strange how this same corrupt Cauldron created Elain and Nesta. Maybe it's not the bond that is corrupt but Elain herself, right? Since everything that comes from the cauldron now has the potential to be tainted I guess neither Lucien or Az should end up with a girl with that sort of questionable creation. I mean, the author did include the line about Elain having tightness on her face and Cassian suspecting she wasn't telling the truth about something. Clearly, that's SJM already "doing the work" to support Evil Elain and Az and Lucien will need to put her down together.

You know what's not hard? Understanding why some bonds are poorly matched.

You're referring to Rhys's parents, correct?

Rhys's father was cold and vicious and stole his mother away the second their bond snapped because he felt entitled to her. He also refused to ban wing clipping despite his her begging him to.

Rhys's mother was soft and fiery and beloved by many.

Elain sounds like Rhys's mother, does she not?

Cold and vicious, cold and vicious, feels entitled to a female. Gosh...that just doesn't sound like Lucien.

But it kind of does sound like someone full of an icy rage who is a far better liar than Rhys himself and knows how to perform a symphony of pain during his torture sessions. The guy who feels he should have gotten Elain as a mate for the simple fact that his brothers are with her sisters.

Elain and Az will never be true mates and let me tell you why.

Because as Elain was violated in the most horrible way possible to her character, Az was crying out for Mor.

As Elain was depressed and traumatized, Az never bothered to ask how she was doing, did not visit her for weeks after she was turned, and actually drew straws so he didn't need to stay and guard her.

After Elain lost her father, Az was relieved not to get her a Solstice gift and blushed and stared at Mor with heat and yearning.

I don't even need an Elucien mating bond to understand he is by far the better male for her.

#pro elucien #elucien #anti e/riel #pro lucien vanserra

[alex-catlady]

Ok but Fleur Delacour once said about Bill Weasley:

"What do I care how 'e looks? I am good-looking enough for both of us, I theenk! 

All these scars show is zat my husband is brave!"

And that applies beautifully to Elucien, both Bill and Lucien being redhead certified hotties that got scarred fighting against evil, and I need Elain defending Lucien's scars in a similar way.

PS: Let's not forget that Feyre, Hybern and Amren had called Lucien beautiful/handsome.

#acotar #elain x lucien #elucienarestillmates #elucien #pro elucien #pro lucien #pro lucien vanserra #lucien×elain #lucien acotar #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #fleur delacour #bill weasley #harry potter

[stargirlie25]

Me having a conversation with an e/riel. Feel free to fact check by looking at the books.

Me: Why do you ship Elain and Azriel?

E/riel: Well for starters, he was the only one to go save Elain when she was in hybern.

Me: First of all, Cassian offered first. Second of all Feyre was also there and saved her (what Elain said)

E/riel: Ok but still it was romantic

Me: But it was not. Because her sister ALSO saved her :) Feyre went to UTM and got tortured,SAed,killed people and died all for Tamlin anyhow...

E/riel: Well Madja said a mate knows whats wrong with their own mate and Az figured out that Elain was a seer.

Me: Elain being a Seer was not what was wrong with her. Also Rhysand figured out Nestas power.

E/riel: Az gave Elain truthteller when he had given it to no one ever.

Me: Only because Mor begged him with tears in her eyes to stay back. Cassian offered her first (again) and then Az offered her TT bc he would not have to use it. Not to mention, Elain only took it when Feyre assured her she would not have to use it. She gave it back without a glance

E/riel: Well Feyre imagined Elain and Az as ´´Death and his lovely fawn´´

Me: Okay. Well did you also catch when she said TT is the only connection between them? Not to mention something admirable about Elain is that she is always full of light. What literally takes away Light? Darkness=Azriel. Not to mention, Azriel is death and his home sucks the life from Elain. Not that Feyres aesthetic painting mind matters anything to me :)

E/riel: What about the fact that Lucien thought Elain was crazy?

Me: What about the fact when he travelled all around to find somebody on a quest so dangerous and the only confirmation he got was from Elain?

E/riel: Elain was wearing Cobalt blue the first time she met Az.

Me: Considering Elains devotion to Graysen, there is a high chance of her wearing that color for Graysen because his crest is cobalt blue. Even if its not true, Lucien wears a coat that´s fawn brown (exact same shade of Elains eyes)

E/riel: A smile and blush bloomed on Azriel in regards to Elain.

Me: Dont care. Thats just an action. Although since you say that, did you know that a smile bloomed on Elains face after her father died (who she loved dearly) in regards to Lucien?

E/riel: What about when a charged glance went through Elain and Azriel.

Me: Sexual attraction. Lots of characters have it like Feyre and tamlin,Aelin and Chaol,Azriel to Mor....

E/riel: Well, Azriel jacks off to Elain every night while looking at the gift he got for her.

Me: Dont be shy you dont have to say a gift. You can say he jacks off to headache powder. No problem. Almost like when Nesta slept with multiple men. Trust me, that does not affect me!

E/riel: Elriel is true mates because Az was the only one to smell Eluciens bond.

Me: Bryce smelled Nessians bound, Ruhn and Lidia smelled bryce and hunts bond, Tamlin smelled feysands.

E/riel: Gwyn is a lightsinger because Az chest sparked because of her.

Me: Well than ig Lidia and Bryce are lightsingers too. Get those evil bitches away from Hunt and Ruhn right?

E/riel: There is nothing romantic for Gwynriel

Me: Thats literally just your penny for thought. Why would i care when SJM provided common banter, mate language and history for Gwynriel, and scenes where they challenge each other when she said history,sparks,conflict,and challenge all makes a good couple.

E/riel: Elain gave two gifts to Az. Not lucien

Me: Headphones for Az bc Nesta and Cass fuck so loud? So romantic i cant! Im so glad my girl SJM is saving the good,meaningful gifts for Elucien.

E/riel: Az waited for Elain to come to the table and told everybody to not eat until Elain came back.

Me: he was thinking of his mother being a slave. Thats what the situation of eating when Elain was tending to everyone reminded him of. How his mother was treated. Its not romantic but it is a very sad thing to think about.

E/riel: Azriel loves Elain. He only has not thought about a future with her because he does not allow himself to!

Me: Honestly i don´t mind that you think that! Although that is not canon. Sleeping with Elain is the only thoughts he PLEASURED himself to. Not allowed himself as some say. Again, that´s just your penny for thought. He says ´´He hadn't gone that far with his planning´´ Meaning sexual thoughts is fine but anything further is like nope, nope,nope,nope,nope too far.

E/riel: Elain literally loses her newfound boldness around Lucien.

Me: There is so many more reasons that we could come up with than what meets the eye. Have you considered it was because she didnt know what to do. Or she saw the look on Lucien ´ s face and shrank because she did not intentionally cause it and felt bad? Or maybe she FELT Luciens pain and shared it because of the bond? So much possibilities to think of especially considering we have limited text and not the actual characters POV. Also i wonder how far she will shrink when she finds out about Az and Rhysands conversation in the bonus chapter. Or maybe she heard it already?

E/riel: Azriel actually gets Elain.

Me: The way he literally does not though! When Elain begs the IC not to kill graysen Az says its best for him to be killed in acosf. When Elain says nesta cant make choices for her and then Az says she should not be exposed to the innate darkness even though later we figure out Elain is willing? When Elain says she is not a child to be fought over and than Az says he will defeat Lucien in a blood duel with her?

E/riel: Scrying is dangerous! Of course Azriel did not want her too.

Me: Yet, he said ´´Nesta really should do scrying´´ but not Elain because he underestimates her. Which is the ONLY thing SJM provides to what Az could have been doing.

E/riel: Azriel listened to Elains laugh probably because he loves the sound!

Me: Maybe its because Elain never ever laughs like that around him or the ic He was literally monitoring them which means to keep tabs on someone which directly relates to his fricking job 😂. So many words to choose from and SJM chose monitoring.

E/riel: Az gave Elain a rose necklace.

Me: Ok and? Elain gave it back. She does not want that shit. He gave it to another person. It felt wrong to clasp it around Elains neck but it sparked something in his chest and made him smile for Gwyn.

E/riel: Lucien only sees Elain for his mate but Azriel sees her for her.

Me: Nope. His reason for wanting to kiss Elain was simply ´´What fi the cauldron was wrong´´ and refers to Elain as the 3rd. She is literally a theory or more so a possibility to him. One he has not thought through in the slightest. Also, Lucien was going crazy in hybern in regards to Elain before he knew of their bond AND Elain has not accepted the bond yet he still cares for her.

E/riel: Elain called Azriels scars beautiful.

Me: first of all, its a 50% chance she called his scars beautiful. Feyre said she was not sure which one she was complimenting, the scars, or the big glowing cobalt siphon atop his hand. Second of all, even if it was 100% fact that she said his scars specifically was beautiful, it seems he does not believe it at all. He tries to not to look at his hands. He does not want to taint her with his presence or touch her beautiful skin with his scars.

E/riel: His shadows vanish around Elain and lightens. They also do that around mor who he was in love with for 500 years. Also his shadows are like snakes ready to strike in regards to Elain.

Me: Shadows lighting and vanishing are the same thing. Light takes away darkness as darkness takes away light (another reason why they are horrible together) His shadows are losing its darkness around Elain and Mor. Mor was wrong for him. The amount of pain it caused him to be in Love with her? Want that to continue with Elain and Az? Azriel does not need his darkness to be hidden. He needs it to be embraced *insert Gwyn*

E/riel: SJM would never pass on a good angsty trope like forbidden love!

Me: firstly, the only thing forbidding e/riel is Elain herself. If she rejects the bond, she can be with Az all she wants and NO ONE has a say on that. Not Rhysand. Not feyre. Not cassian. Not Lucien himself. Although she hasnt after 2 years. There is an answer to why. Its not like Elain knows she has to wait until her own book to reject it. Second of all, Forbidden love is the absolute WORST trope to give BOTH of them. For Elain, she has always hid in the shadows of her sisters in the series and the fandom. You really think Elain Archeron always full of light wants to hide in the darkness and play out Azriel´s fantasies? As for Azriel, he has been secretly silently in PAIN loving Mor for 500 years. So you want him to go through it again with Elain? No. He wants the bond nessian and feysand have. The love they share. The joy of being with your equal. The connection of a mating bond. Being proud to showcase it to the world. Forbidden love would just tear them apart.

E/riel: SJM does not write about virgin romances! Plus Gwyn is a virgin!

Me: Yes she can. Gwyn already lost her virginity against her will so biologically she is not going through the bleeding and the actual losing her physical virginity. Although it is a fact she has never slept with someone. The scene where Cassian *ahem* first enters nesta is very descriptive and SJM describes the pain of Cassian entering her......So yes she can for sure write about Gwyn having sex. This is also goes against the statement that Gwyn cant have sex because of her trauma. False. She is interested in romance books and asks Nesta if the sex was good. I think Gwyn would enjoy sex with someone she trusts in and out.

#anti elriel #anti e/riel #anti elainxazriel #anti azriel and elain #pro elucien #pro gwynriel #elucien #gwynriel

[works-of-heart]

For E/riel to happen,

A lot of major changes to the story need to occur. E/riel theories are often convoluted and contradicting, but let's go over some of the things that need to happen, for these E/riel theories shall we?

Elain and Lucien's bond has to be 'wrong or corrupt' while everyone else's is perfectly fine.

Lucien and Azriel need to have a blood duel where Lucien dies.

The bond is fake and they'll both have a good laugh about it.

Elain will reject the bond, but will always still have her bond with Lucien. She'll just go with Azriel and he'll be totally ok with it.

BOTH Elain and Lucien will reject the bond, which...somehow it just what, goes away? They will both find love with someone who isn't their mate, Az/Vassa, but constantly feel the pull to eachother since the bond doesn't go away. Lucien will eventually be driven mad.

Lucien has to be a cheater. Being a mated male and his whole characteristic of being fiercely loyal? Out the window.

Jurien has to betray them or die, since Jassa is a contendor to Vassien. Jassa cannot happen so we must get rid of Jurien.

Gwyn has to be evil

Gwyn's a Lightsinger/luring Azriel, so him wanting to see her cannot be of his own volition or a draw to any mating bond, it's because he's under a spell.

Gwyn is going to betray Azriel

Gwyn and Elain are going to fight over Azriel, which Gwyn will reveal her evil ploy

Gwyn cannot exist past SF and will fade into obscurity

Someone is forcing Elain to be with Lucien, in which she and Azriel must sneak around with their forbidden desires before someone steps in and fights for their happiness.

Lucien just fades into obscurity or dies trying to protect Elain which she goes to Az anyway.

Elucien happens in the first book, but then Lucien turns into a sudden asshole and pushes Elain away where she realizes she loved Az all along? The second book is Elain and Azriel getting together...which would be all of 5 pages.

For Elucien to happen,

Elain and Lucien need to spend time together and get to know eachother.

For Gwynriel to happen,

Azriel and Gwyn spend time together.

Azriel stops focusing on his lack of a mate and listen to his shadows who are clearly telling him the woman he's looking for is right in front of him.

That's it.

For Elucien/Gwynriel to happen, all they have to do is spend more time together. We don't need anyone to lose their HEA, we don't need to kill off any characters, or make anyone suffer. Everyone gets a HEA, which in a romance novel that's about soulmates and love and healing and fantasy, that's what it's about. This isn't GoT/SOIAF where people need to be scheming and die.

What sounds more likely? 2 books left focusing on 2 different ships like Eluciend and Gwynriel? Seeing 4 people get their HEA and possibly some blooming side ships like Jassa and Mor/Emire? Or, 2 books, one focusing on Elriel, where one of the many horrible and depressing options happen, with the second book being someone else entirely, or Vassien? Which again, would be breaking characters.

You tell me.

#elucien #pro elucien #elucien supremacy #elain x lucien #pro lucien vanserra #anti e/riel #pro gwynriel #gwynriel #gwyn x azriel