Five years before Feyre Archeron ever stepped foot in Prythian, another human girl found herself in the Spring Court. But the trials and tribulations of her time Under the Mountain left her with nothing but a certain red-headed High Fae emissary, wh...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"P-Perhaps we should talk," Lucien said quietly, leaning back against the tree. You glanced up at him, hoping.
"Not here," you said softly. He glanced back down to Tamlin, and nodded in confirmation, holding his hand out to you as he winnowed you away from the party, and away from Tamlin's watchful eye. You found that you were instead in his room, now on your feet, still smelling of fresh flowers and crisp spring mornings. You glanced around the room; the one and only time you had been in there before, it had been dark, and mostly had been out of sight and hidden in shadows, but you were now able to see it properly. The walls were a rich hue of sunset orange, and the sheets of the four-poster bed were a bright red. A table was pushed into the corner that held weapons of all varieties, sharp and glinting. There was a dark under the window that looked out onto the South grounds, and through it you could still see the bunting and maypole from the party in the distance. There was that mirror leaning against the wall, the frame a glorious brass that reminded you of the mask he had once been forced to wear. Everything was a dazzling shade of autumn, and you couldn't help but feel homey there. Your own room was light and breezy and airy, pastel colours and light woods, but this room was cosy and warm. Like listening to rain patter against the window as you warm yourself on the fire. Like Lucien.
You saw him behind you, in the reflection of the mirror as you once had before, open his mouth as if to say something and then close it again. You turned slowly to face him, blinking up at him expectantly, but you didn't say anything; you would let him speak first. He groaned and pulled at the roots of his hair in frustration, before finally asking the question that you suspected he had wanted to know the answer to for a long time. "Why did you sleep with Rhysand?"
You swallowed your dry throat. "Because I was lonely."
"So you slept with the enemy?" He asked, and you wined.
"He may be your enemy, but he has never been mine," you said, trying to keep your voice steady and calm. "He has helped me more times than I can count-"
"And I haven't?" He blurted, and you froze, staring up into those eyes of his, mismatched but gleaming all the same, with anger, with pain, and if you weren't mistaken, with jealousy. "Have I not been there every time you have needed someone?"
"B-But you rejected me," you said quietly. "I needed someone then, and you weren't there."
"So you chose Rhysand." He spat the name as if it was poisoned.
"He was there, and he was just as lonely as I was," you stuttered. "And you didn't want me."
"Want you?" He asked incredulously, whirling around to look at you, taking a step toward you, hands clenched at his sides. "Of course I want you! Cauldron boil me, you're the only thing I want! I can't sleep without seeing your face, I fear I'll go mad whenever you're not with me, I forget how to breathe when you walk into a room! I'd give you anything you ever asked me for - I'd give you a beam of sunlight or the moon on a string, just to see you smile! You're all I want!"
