“look, lucien,” a brother purrs from above, and it’s then that she catches a glimpse of a male similar to the one that had declared her his mate; this male is beautiful in a way. his face is so elegant, cheekbones so high, so SHARP. his auburn hair is disheveled, so messy. and those EYES. where lucien’s were kind, his are sharp. they are cold. unfeeling. as if nothing is meant to escape their gaze.

somewhere, in a distant land of darkness and starlight, the seer trembles in her sleep, her body warm.

here’s longing, a super tiny elucien fic that’s a lil heartbreaking. 

she feels it at first.

fire.

a roaring flame, one that’s so close to her.

when she can see, when she’s ALLOWED to open her eyes, she’s on the floor.

cheek pressed against the cold marble floor, a boot pressed down on her face, keeping her there. helpless. exhausted.

and above all, heartbroken.

with a start she realizes it isn’t HER.

this isn’t her dream.

it’s HIS.

“look, lucien,” a brother purrs from above, and it’s then that she catches a glimpse of a male similar to the one that had declared her his mate; this male is beautiful in a way. his face is so elegant, cheekbones so high, so SHARP. his auburn hair is disheveled, so messy. and those EYES. where lucien’s were kind, his are sharp. they are cold. unfeeling. as if nothing is meant to escape their gaze.

somewhere, in a distant land of darkness and starlight, the seer trembles in her sleep, her body warm.

“look THERE, little brother.” she - LUCIEN - is hauled up so that he’s on his knees, still separated from what he had tried to reach for. she realizes just how much he fought when he groans, unable to move from the pain that plagues his body. he’s been beaten, and badly. bones are broken, blood is running down in his side in streams, marring the white of his dress shirt, and his dagger is only a few feet away from him.

what good it could do.

“please.” he’s begging. something she’s never seen him do in a dream. she’s seen him laugh, run, converse, even argue. but she’s never seen him like this. she’s never felt such sadness, such anger. “let her go. she did NOTHING.”

it’s a man’s cold laugh that has lucien’s blood running cold. it’s the appearance of autumn’s own LORD that has nothing but cold fear stop him. if beron’s here… while betrayal should have him furious, the flame haired son only struggles to pull himself forward, ignoring the laughter than rings out from behind him.

“ PLEASE. ”

that’s when she can finally see her. the fae that lucien had been in love with. she’s tied down, a gag in her mouth, but beron pulls that out without an ounce of hesitation. his movements are clean, precise.

lucien sees the sword being drawn and he’s suddenly snarling and he’s trying, he’s struggling. he wants to pull forward and he can’t, and when the sword goes down and his lover breathes no more, everything goes black.

and in velaris, elain wakes, hand clutching her neck, her throat hoarse from what she realizes was her own shrieking. but along that bond… down a vine covered corridor that stretches along for countless miles, a corridor that smells faintly of spices and pumpkin… she can feel guilt, and remorse. feelings that don’t belong to her, but plague her.

and then there’s that probing feeling that comes shortly after he’s had a dream that he knows she’s felt. it’s the only type of contact they’ve ever shared. one reaching out to the other after a nightmare, touching the other’s consciousness. an apology. a movement to reassure them that they are alright. that they didn’t mean for them to see their worst thoughts.

and when elain does that thing where she lets him feel what she’s feeling, she SAYS something. she says that she’s sorry. and while he doesn’t reply, while he doesn’t speak back, she can feel something she isn’t sure he meant to send.

longing.