A Court of Love and Healing {ACOTAR}

Not A Damsel, Not A Nobody

Lucien winnows into Velaris, landing on the porch of Rhys and Feyre's new estate. His nerves are jittering with nervousness as they usually do when in proximity to Elain. He hasn't visited in a few weeks now, and every time he is away for a while, the mate bond jilts him to return.

Before he can knock, Feyre opens the door, giving a half-smile the way she always does when he arrives.

"Feyre", he nods politely.

"Lucien. Come in", she opens the door wider, allowing him entry into the river house.

In a perfect picture of domestic bliss, Rhys is sat on the sofa in the main living area, a sleeping Nyx on his chest, wings tucked around them protectively.

Lucien lowers his voice. "Rhys, always a pleasure", he smirks, the statement laced with sarcasm. "Looks like fatherhood suits you."

Rhys gives him his ever-enthused glance, a devilish twinkle within the violet. "Faux gratitude won't get you very far, fireling."

"Ah, but who says it's faux, Lord of Darkness? All new fathers put on a few pounds, it's merely a simple compliment."

Rhys can't help but let out a deep chuckle. "And there it is."

Lucien smirks and then his gaze falls on the staircase, his face falling into hesitancy and a veil of nervousness coming over his features.

"She's in the library. She installed some flower boxes outside those windows yesterday, so either she's reading or doing whatever she does with the soil. You can go up. Just—"

"I know", he replies a bit more firmly than he intended. "I know, Feyre."

She nods softly and watches him ascend the stairs, before sitting next to Rhys and gazing at their son.

Climbing the staircase and walking to the end of the long hallway, Lucien can feel his nerves humming in his body. He pauses outside of the entrance to the library and takes a breath, moving his hair back behind his ears and smoothing his vest before slowly entering. His boots clunking against the wood floors becomes the only audible noise.

A soothing whoosh of wind comes through the open window, blowing a few of his red tendrils behind him. He sees the soft sage green of a dress-skirt flair out from around the corner and wave within the breeze. That's when her scent hits him all at once, alluring and intoxicating and mouth-watering as he tries his best to choke it down.

Lucien parts his lips to speak her name, but is caught off guard when Elain speaks first.

"Lucien." Soft, simple, straightforward. Only his name and yet it stirred so much within him.

Clearing the corner, he sees Elain crouched on the window nook, a book by her knees and her fingers dirtied with soil. She blushes softly and wipes wisps of hair from her face, a smudge of dirt marring her cheek, unbeknownst to her.

"Hello, Elain", Lucien bows to her, looking over her shoulder at the small flowerbed installed outside of the window. He shudders a bit, thinking of Elain holding power tools, a crazy notion, but one that excited him nonetheless.

'Control yourself, Lucien', he internally scolds himself.

"That looks very nice. Did you install it yourself? Feyre mentioned there are more around the house too."

Elain peers up at him, a bit taken aback that Lucien seems to genuinely be interested in her answer. "Yes", she says softly, going to smooth her dress but stopping when she realizes her hands are dirty.

"Ah", Lucien exclaims. "Here you go." He pulls a clean and folded handkerchief from his vest pocket and hands it to her, his golden metal eye humming and focusing alongside his deep burgundy one as he focuses on his outstretched 'white flag'.