A Court of Love and Healing {ACOTAR}

The Mated and the Fated

Elain is pacing back and forth in the living area of the River House, still shouting when they return. Rhysand's arms are crossed, and he seems to be refusing to look directly at her. Feyre is beside him, looking pale. Amren is nowhere to be found, Lucien notes. Most likely otherwise occupied with Varian. Cassian and Nesta immediately returned to their home, with Cassian mentioning something about not wanting to start up the drama again and how Nesta didn't need more stress. Whatever that meant; probably that Rhys is in a mood. Azriel and Gwyn had done the same.

Mor passes him a glance that seems to say "Good luck", and sneaks off to her bedroom, avoiding them as well.

Great.

Lucien walks in and casually leans on the archway frame, crossing one leg over the other and watching Elain shout at them, something about Rhys's audacity to claim he gives women choices. Yikes.

He can't help but snicker, and amongst her flailing, she half-turns and her eye catches on him. She stops mid-sentence and looks him over. The anger creates a type of fire in her, one that his magic sings to, the bond thrumming with delicious tension at the way her gaze roves over him. He has to stop himself from licking his lips, so instead, he flashes her a smirk.

Rhys grumbles. "Finally. Control your mate, she's going mad."

"Sorry, Rhysie, I don't control my female. I quite thrive when she is "mad". Makes her all the more desirable. Something about my veins and fire...well, you probably heard the rumors", he snarks, his russet eye flickering with antagonistic energy.

Rhys's lip curls and Feyre places a hand on his chest. "Leave it", she coos. "Let's go cool off, hm?" He grunts and reluctantly follows her out of the room.

Elain blushes delectably and he pushes off, sauntering over to her and pulling her close. "I missed you."

She wraps her arms tightly around his neck. "What happened? Are you alright?"

"Yeah...now I am. Still shaken, but—he's okay."

"Eris is alive", she gasps. "How?"

"It's a long story. Your sister and Gwyn used the Dread Trove, similar to how they saved Feyre. Gwyn made a pact with the Cauldron, it was a whole big thing. But it worked out. And everyone will be okay now...I'm sorry you had to see that vision. Seeing him in person like that...", he trails off, taking a shaking breath. "It's fine now."

Elain gently cups his cheek. "I can see how much stress that put on you. I don't have the best relationship with my sisters, but seeing Feyre like that Under the Mountain the way you did—", she chokes up. "It got me so mad. To know he was part of it. The biggest part of it. I just...I lost it. So I can imagine how you felt seeing your brother like that."

Lucien buries his face in her neck and breathes her in, swaying softly. "I think we are well and truly balancing each other out. Before, I would have probably done something stupid in my anger, like tracked Beron down for it. And you, my flower, I'd have imagined that you would have cried and cried and not confronted him."

"You cried?", she whispers brokenly. "By yourself?"

He looks down a bit, his cheeks pink with embarrassment. "It worked out."

"That doesn't take away the stress, the sadness, or the anger. We all know that."

Lucien looks into her eyes and leans his forehead on hers. "I'm proud of you. For finding your voice, sweet doe."

Elain smiles slightly and strokes his lips, the bond still humming with the tension between them, their emotions heightening it.

She drags a finger over the lower part of his scar and then the curve of his jaw. "Let's go home. My nerves are on edge still", she says, a sparkling glint in her eye.