No TV Show Or Movie I Will Ever Watch Is Worth Starving A Writer From Their Home.

No TV show or movie I will ever watch is worth starving a writer from their home.

YES! This made me go listen to “So Close” from the movie on repeat for like an hour.

Is it too cheesy to say that I find this fic enchanting? Probably.

I Was Enchanted To Meet You: Part Five

A/N: Happy Day Six of @elucienweekofficial! Will Elain travel back to Andalasia in this chapter? 😉 Do you see what I did there? It's me pretending I'm somewhat sticking to the prompts. Anywho! The final part after this is the epilogue so this is basically the end. I hope everyone enjoys! :)

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Elain

The sun creeping along the walls and crashing across the hardwood happens almost in slow motion as the minutes tick by. Elain can do nothing but stare at the wall, watching as the apartment swirls and shifts from shades of blue to pinks and purples. As the shadows are cast away and morning truly sneaks up on her.

She had barely gotten any sleep the previous night. The whole time she had laid there, her argument with Lucien and the subsequent moment that followed played over and over in her mind. The way they had laughed so easily, so comfortably together. The way he had looked at her, that flame flaring in his gaze. The way her breath had hitched and her heart had skipped and squeezed. The way that, for a single moment, Elain really had thought the space between them was going to vanish. It all plays like an endless loop for her, taunting her, jumbling up all her feelings until there’s a giant knot digging into her chest.

Elain sighs softly and rolls over onto her back until she’s staring up at the ceiling instead. Her lip finds home between her teeth, and she nibbles at it nervously as she squeezes her eyes shut. Her attention finally flits away from the previous night, but it lands firmly on where Lucien is still sleeping just down the hallway. So close and so far away at the same time.

She doesn’t know why she feels this way, why her chest feels so tight and so full at the same time. Why she feels this way every time she thinks of him. She knows she shouldn’t. She’s sure that Lucien is focused on Nesta, as he should be. She should be focused on Cassian. On getting back to him and to Andalasia. She shouldn't be focused on soft strands of bright red hair that she wants to run her fingers through, on swirling russet eyes and a teasing smirk that she could get lost in.

And yet…

And yet.

With a huff, Elain finally kicks off the blankets and pulls herself up and off the couch. She pads into the kitchen, starting a fresh pot of tea for the morning. She’s stirring her cup of tea when she realizes she’s not the only one having a bright and early morning, the sound of bare feet on the hardwood echoing behind her.

“Morning,” Lucien’s deep, sleep-addled voice speaks behind her.

“Good morning,” Elain echoes quietly, taking her cup of tea and settling at the kitchen table.

She tucks her legs up underneath her, watching as Lucien walks over to the kitchen counter. He reaches up and pulls a mug down from the cabinet, taking the time to prepare his tea how he likes it. Elain is sure that he can probably feel her eyes on him, but she can’t quite look away from the way his shoulders and back stretch and move beneath his tee with the movement. When Lucien finally turns back around, Elain ducks her head and focuses on her own mug, praying that the heat she can feel spilling across her cheeks isn’t too obvious.

“Elain, I—”

Before Lucien can finish speaking, a knock on the front door cuts him off. Elain practically jumps out of her skin in surprise at the sound reverberating around the apartment. Lucien looks just as confused by the knock, his eyebrows furrowing as he slowly sets down his tea. He heads out of the kitchen and toward the front door, the sound clearly having woken up Willow as the little girl yanks open her bedroom door and comes running out into the hallway. Elain follows behind Lucien, standing just over his shoulder, and she finds herself holding her breath as he unlocks the door and pulls it open.

“Elain!”

Elain blinks a bit dumbly, her mind not quite catching up to the fact that Cassian is standing there in the doorway, in front of her. His smile is wide, dark curls tousled around his face and shoulders, hazel eyes practically bright and shining. Elain tries to will her heart, will her emotions, to match his energy, but there’s just a hollowness clanging between her ribs.

She’s forced into action, though, when Cassian’s attention dances to Lucien, that easy smile falling away. Before Elain can even blink, the prince is pulling his sword free, the blade pointed threateningly at Lucien’s chest.

“Cassian, don’t!” Elain jumps in as Cassian slowly backs Lucien up inside the apartment, Lucien’s eyes wide and his hands raised in surrender.

“So, you’ve been the one who’s been holding my bride captive,” Cassian accuses, ignoring Elain’s protests. “Any last words before I dispatch you?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Lucien mutters, shaking his head.

“Strange words…”

“Cassian, don’t,” Elain repeats, her words more firm this time as she steps between Lucien and him. “Lucien is my friend. He’s been helping me.”

“Oh,” Cassian says simply, sliding his sword back into the scabbard at his waist. He hops up onto the coffee table and spreads his arms, starting to sing. “I’ve been dreaming of a true love’s kiss.”

“Great, he sings too,” Lucien remarks sarcastically.

“And a miss I have begun to miss. Pure and sweet waiting to complete my love song. Yes, somewhere there’s a maid I’ve never met, who was made…”

The silence hangs in the living room like a weight as Cassian trails off. He looks at Elain expectantly, raising his eyebrows in waiting, but Elain merely blinks back at him, unsurety twisting and roiling in her gut. She chances a glance back toward Lucien, but meeting that gaze certainly does the opposite of helping.

“Elain,” Cassian calls beneath his breath and drawing her attention back to him before raising his voice to a higher pitch, almost mimicking her. “To finish… To… you’re not singing.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just that I’ve been thinking, and there’s something I want to do before we leave,” Elain explains, eyes dancing once more toward Lucien who nods encouragingly. “I want to go on a date.”

“A date! What’s a date?”

“Well, we do an activity, like dinner, and we talk about ourselves.”

“Then a date we shall have,” Cassian agrees with a flourish of his hands, already hopping down from the coffee table and heading back toward the front door.

“Okay,” Elain offers with a small smile. She turns properly to Lucien and Willow, crouching down to pull the little girl into a hug. “Thank you both so much for your kindness these past few days.”

“I’ll miss you, Elain,” Willow tells her, squeezing her arms tightly.

“You can come visit in Andalasia any time you’d like,” Elain assures her, pulling back and standing back up.

“And if you’re ever in town again, be sure to hit us up. We can go for dinner or something,” Lucien adds, offering Elain a small smile of his own.

Elain swears that that smile is tinged with sadness, mirroring the ache that seems set on gnawing away until ice crystalizes through Elain’s chest. She swallows hard, around the feelings threatening to clog up her throat, around the heaviness pressing in at her chest, and forces a smile of her own as she nods. A throat clear behind her has Elain finally turning around, taking the arm that Cassian holds out for her. It takes everything in her, all her willpower, not to look back as her prince leads her away, back to everything she swore she wanted.

~ * * * ~

Elain sighs softly, staring out at the churning water of the river. She watches the gulls that fly above the ripples caused by the wind, watches the way the water glints golden in certain places where the droplets catch the sun. When she turns her head to the right, she finds Cassian’s hazel gaze. He tries to smile around his mouth full of food, and Elain can’t help but grimace slightly at the ketchup that’s caught at the corner of his lips.

“Are you enjoying your hotdog?” Elain asks, reaching her hand up to brush away the red droplet. “It’s not really a dog. They just call it that here.”

“It’s delicious,” Cassian tells her after a moment. “We should bring them back to Andalasia with us.”

“Yes, that would be nice.”

“Speaking of… how long do these ‘dates’ usually last? We should get back to Andalasia, to be married and live happily ever after forever and ever.”

“Well,” Elain begins, turning away from him again and nibbling at her bottom lip. “They can go on as long as we’d like. As long as we keep thinking of activities. Like, there’s this ball.”

“A ball?”

“There’s music and dancing. You’d like it. We should go.”

“Alright…” Cassian agrees slowly, but when Elain takes his hand and starts to lead him away from the riverfront, he tugs both of them to a stop. “But after this ball, we’ll finally go back to Andalasia?”

“Of course.”

And if the words are a blatant lie tumbling past Elain’s lips, well then, Cassian doesn’t really need to know. At least, that’s what Elain tells herself as she leads them back to the bustling streets. As she sends Cassian on his way to get ready for the ball with instructions of where to meet. As she makes her way back to the apartment building the Vanserras call home.

When she knocks on the door, the babysitter lets her in, and Elain makes her way down the hallway toward Willow’s room. She watches the exact moment that the little girl sees her in her mirror, her eyes widening and smile pulling so big it practically splits her face in two.

“Elain! Elain!” Willow squeals excitedly, spinning around and running toward her. “You came back!”

Willow jumps right into Elain’s arms, and Elain catches her with ease, laughing into her red hair while she squeezes her close. “Oh, Willow. I need your help. I’m going to the ball, and I have absolutely no idea what I should wear.”

Willow pulls back from the hug with a determination lining her face that’s adorable. Her hands settle on her hips as she thinks, mouth pinching slightly to the side. Whatever idea strikes her, has the little girl’s face lighting up, and she gives a decided nod before leading the way out of her bedroom, Elain hot on her heels. They step into Lucien’s office, Willow going over to the desk and rooting around in one of the drawers until she finds what she’s looking for.

“Daddy says this is only for emergencies, and this is definitely an emergency.”

~ * * * ~

Lucien

Music swirls and floats around Lucien, the various bodies, all decked out in costume dresses and suits, moving around him in a blur. He tries to focus on the steps, on the melody as it flows through him. He tries to focus on the feel of Nesta’s waist beneath his palm, on her face as they spin around and around. But it’s easier said than done, and Lucien finds his mind drifting off yet again, attention still ensnared with Elain and her too sweet, soft smile as she said goodbye.

Thankfully, Lucien’s feet remember the steps, moving with practiced ease until the music crescendos and swells. When the song comes to an end, applause echoes around the ballroom, and Lucien steps back enough from Nesta that he can join in. She peers up at him with a bright smile, and Lucien tries to match it, praying she won’t be able to see through the forced quality of it.

Nesta’s smile starts to slip, and Lucien knows that he’s been caught. He knows that his thoughts and where they’ve strayed have finally betrayed him and must show on his face. But Nesta’s attention isn’t on his face anymore. Instead, her eyes have strayed over his shoulder, toward the large, oak doors that lead in and out of the ballroom.

Slowly, Lucien turns, and as if she’s been conjured right from his thoughts, right from his dreams, is Elain. She has on a purple dress, the fabric hugging her every curve and draping around her legs. Her honeyed hair hangs in soft curls down around her face and shoulders, and with the glow of the chandeliers like a spotlight, she looks breathtakingly beautiful.

Lucien’s heart starts to thunder away in his chest, air stolen straight from his lungs, when Elain turns her head and meets his gaze. It’s with such surety, such ease, as if she knows exactly where in the room he is. And when that small, private smile of hers tugs up her lips, Lucien finds himself fully caught in her trap. He can do nothing but gape and stare as Elain gracefully walks down the steps and onto the ballroom floor, as the distance shrinks and shrinks between them until Elain is standing right in front of him. Close enough that her brown eyes flood his vision, enough that the sweet floral scent of her perfume fills his senses.

“Elain,” Lucien breathes before catching himself and clearing his throat. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

“I’m surprised to be here,” Elain tells him, tucking her hair back behind her ear. She shares another smile with Lucien before seeming to jolt back to herself and turning toward Nesta. “Oh. This is Cassian. He’s my… um… my prince.”

“And this is Nesta,” Lucien introduces to Cassian. “She’s my… um, we’re…”

“Together,” Nesta finishes, shooting Lucien a look. “We’re together.”

“And this beautiful woman, Elain, is the love of my life, my heart’s one true desire” Cassian declares, clearly not understanding how introductions work, not an ounce of irony in his tone.

“Wow,” Nesta sighs almost longingly. “That was so romantic.”

“Thank you.”

“Alright, folks,” the conductor of the band announces, putting an end to any small talk. “It's that time of the night. I'd like to ask each gentleman to invite a lady he did not accompany to dance the King and Queen's waltz.”

“May I have the pleasure?” Cassian asks Nesta, holding his hand out toward her.

Nesta nods and places her hand in his, allowing him to guide them away toward the center of the ballroom floor. Elain watches them go, but Lucien only has eyes for her. His entire being seems to call out for her, that golden thread urging him forward still. His fingers twitch with the desire to reach out and touch, to slide his knuckles down the apple of her cheek, to skate his fingertips across the constellation of freckles.

“Shall we?” Lucien somehow chokes out, drawing Elain’s attention back to him.

He holds his hand out to her in silent offering, and he tries not to let it sting too much when he sees hesitation flicker across her face. But then Elain is sliding her palm against his, and they’re moving to join the fray on the ballroom floor. Elain turns to face him, and Lucien swears his hand is trembling as he slowly places it on her waist, sparks ricocheting up his arm at the contact.

They start to move to the music, and in that moment, everything else fades away. All the other people in the ballroom. Hell, even the music fades to nothing. In that moment, it’s just him and Elain, their hearts beating as one. He swears he can hear it, swears it’s that rhythm his feet move to, and he half wonders if she can hear his too.

Not that he particularly cares either way. All he cares about is keeping Elain’s gaze on his own, her body pressed against his as they spin and twirl across the floor. Her brown eyes are bright, practically sparkling, and Lucien knows that he could get lost in them. This close, he can see the pretty pink that’s started to dust her cheeks, almost the exact shade of her lips. As if sensing where his thoughts have drifted to, her lips part. It wouldn’t take much to close what little distance remains between them. All he’d have to do is lean down and—

“Mind if I cut in?”

Lucien and Elain turn to find Nesta and Cassian standing there, an awkward and stifling air settling between the four of them. Elain shakes her head and steps back as though she’s been burned, offering Lucien one last look before quickly skirting back to Cassian’s side. Words tangle up in Lucien’s mind and weigh heavy on his tongue, especially as he watches Cassian begin to lead Elain away, back toward the stairs and the exit, but he can’t quite seem to unjumble them fast enough. Can’t string together the right ones. Can’t encapsulate every feeling thrumming deep in his chest and rattling at the bars to be released. They clog the back of his throat until only a choked sound escapes.

“Lucien.”

Lucien snaps his attention back to Nesta, her eyebrows raised as she peers up at him expectantly, almost exasperatedly. He shakes his head of all thoughts of Elain and takes Nesta’s hand back in his, his other hand sliding easily to her waist as they finish out the dance. He twirls Nesta around as the music comes to a close, and then they step apart, applauding politely for the band.

The band starts up another song, and Lucien steps closer to Nesta again, ready to fall into the next dance, but something knocks against his foot. He pauses in confusion, glancing down and blinking a few times to ensure he’s seeing correctly. Slowly, he reaches down, picking up the object.

“Is that… an apple?” Nesta asks, the same confusion Lucien feels coloring her tone.

“With a bite taken out of it,” Lucien confirms, frowning.

“What kind of person—”

“Someone help me! Please!”

Lucien’s hackles rise at the alarmed shout echoing through the ballroom. His every nerve ending feels on edge, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling with anticipation and dread. Some part of him already knows what he’ll find when he turns, but the sight still makes his stomach drop. Cassian has Elain cradled in his arms, head lolled back and eyes closed. She looks almost lifeless, and Lucien’s feet are moving before he knows it, rushing forward.

“Call 9-1-1,” Lucien calls back to Nesta, hurrying to Elain’s side as Cassian lays her down gently.

Lucien’s hands scramble for Elain’s wrist, pressing his fingers there and silently praying to the Mother. He can feel her pulse, but it’s fluttering, and when he presses his other hand to Elain’s cheek, her skin is concerningly clammy.

“Elain,” Lucien speaks quietly, brushing his hand over her hair.

“You murderous wretch,” Cassian shouts, producing a sword and holding it to a woman Lucien doesn’t think he’s ever seen before, who’s dressed as though she’s stepped straight out of a Disney movie where she played the evil queen. “What have you done to her?”

“Come on, Cassian,” the woman croons with a roll of her eyes. “Don’t you think you’re being melodramatic?”

“I don’t know what melodramatic means, but I do know that your days as queen are over. Now, fix whatever it is you’ve done to Elain.”

“Sorry, darling, but there’s nothing powerful enough in the world to break that curse.”

“Powerful…” Lucien mutters, the word snagging on a memory. “True love’s kiss. It’s the most powerful thing in the world.”

Lucien feels a bit silly for a moment, especially when everyone merely stares at him after his outburst, but then Cassian is nodding in agreement. He rushes around to where Lucien is kneeling, so Lucien is quick to move out of his way. He swallows hard as Cassian brushes a hand down Elain’s cheek, has to look away as Cassian slowly dips his head down to kiss her. He waits for the gasps of relief, for the applause, but it never comes, and when he finally dares to look again, Elain looks the same.

“It’s not working. Why isn’t it working?” Cassian asks, leaning down and pressing another kiss to Elain’s lips almost frantically. “Unless…”

Cassian looks over his shoulder at Lucien, and Lucien’s blood runs cold, his entire body freezing up at the knowing look on the prince’s face. Lucien tries to laugh it off, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck and glancing around, but no one else seems to think it’s a joke. In fact, no one even seems to be on his side, each gaze more expectant than the next.

“It can’t be me,” Lucien splutters, shaking his head. “I’ve only known Elain for a few days, and it’s not like—”

“Just kiss her, Lucien,” Nesta snaps, cutting him off.

Lucien winces slightly at that, but he takes back the spot kneeling beside Elain. He takes a deep breath and tries to ignore all the eyes he can feel on them. When he thought about potentially kissing Elain, this certainly wasn’t how he thought it would go. With another silent prayer to the Mother that this works, Lucien slowly leans down, slotting his lips against hers and kissing her sweetly.

For a horrifying moment, Lucien doesn’t think that it worked. Elain continues to lie unmoving in his arms, and every millisecond feels like a year, but then she lets out a soft gasp, her eyes fluttering open. Lucien can’t help it, he laughs, a soft chuckle of relief that tumbles past his lips, spurred on by Elain’s soft, answering smile.

“I knew it was you,” Elain tells him before sitting up and kissing him properly.

It’s everything Lucien imagined and more. Elain’s body pressed against his. The sweet taste of her on his tongue. The soft slide of their lips together. His head is swimming with it all, warmth bursting between his ribs enough that his chest practically aches with it.

“Oh, how touching.” Lucien and Elain pull apart only to find that the woman from before has used the distraction to slip away, moving to the center of the ballroom, her hands beginning to glow green. “I’ll show you what the real most powerful thing in the world looks like.”

Green fire erupts around the woman, the flames climbing higher and higher toward the ceiling until out of them steps a dragon. An actual dragon. Lucien knows he’s witnessed and dealt with a lot this week, but this definitely takes the cake. His heart pounds away, but instinctually, he steps in front of Elain, blocking her from the dragon.

“How cute,” the dragon drawls sarcastically, the same voice as the woman.

“If you want to get to Elain, you have to go through me,” Lucien tells her, thankful his voice doesn’t shake too much despite facing down a literal dragon.

“Alright.”

The dragon shrugs and one of its hands swings forward, scooping Lucien up into its clawed grip. Lucien tries to push at the claws, tries to wiggle free, but the dragon’s hold on him is too tight. His alarm only grows when the dragon bursts through the windows and begins to scale the building they’re in. Up and up they climb, until Lucien feels nauseous after he makes the mistake of looking down.

“Amarantha! Let him go!” Elain’s voice rings out, and Lucien dares to look down just in time to see Elain climbing after them, Cassian’s sword clutched in her hand.

“Well, if you insist,” the dragon, Amarantha, says before opening her hand.

Lucien cries out in surprise as he starts to fall, his hands reaching out and scrabbling for anything. His fingers just barely catch on some sort of metal piece sticking out from the roof, his momentum coming to a harsh stop. He tries to readjust his grip, tries to pull himself up properly, but with the rain falling in streaks around them, the metal is too slippery.

Lucien can still hear Amarantha taunting Elain, can hear Elain shouting things back, and most concerningly, he hears what sounds like a sword hitting metal, so after taking a few heaving breaths to try and calm his erratic heart and fraying nerves, he frantically looks around, trying to find something, anything to help him. He needs to get to Elain. He spies a ledge that he can probably get his footing on, so Lucien starts to inch his hands along the metal to get him closer.

Lucien stretches out one of his legs, his toes just barely scraping against the ledge. He lets out a huff of frustration, looking back toward Amarantha and Elain, trying to gauge how much time he has to get there in time, to help. He watches, almost in slow motion, as Elain takes the sword in her hand and throws it. The blade embeds itself right into Amarantha’s dragon underside. It sends her toppling backwards, going right over the edge of the roof. Her screams echo as she falls down and down before vanishing into an eruption of green flames and smoke.

“Lucien, hold on!” Elain calls out to him, clambering across the roof closer to him.

With the dragon now defeated, Lucien focuses again on stretching out his leg toward the ledge. “Don’t worry. I’ve got—”

Lucien’s foot misses the ledge again, but this time, his fingers slip with it. He goes sliding down the roof, crashing right into Elain and taking her with him. They both shout in alarm as they go tumbling, Lucien wrapping his arms tightly around her and desperately trying to find purchase with his legs to stop their descent. They slide down and down before finally, blessedly, coming to a stop.

Lucien swears he’s not breathing, swears that everything that’s just happened might just be the craziest thing he’s ever witnessed, ever been a part of. And then Elain laughs. She laughs, the sound sweet and melodic, as she clutches at Lucien’s shirt. She laughs even as the rain streaks through her hair, all over her now ruined dress. She laughs, and it fills Lucien with a lightness he never thought was possible, with a love he never thought was possible.

“Is this a habit of yours?” Elain asks him teasingly. “Falling off of things.”

Lucien shakes his head, and does the only logical thing he can think of. He kisses her.

—

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DAY 3: SUNSHINE - ELAIN & LUCIEN

@elucienweekofficial

A little moodboard for today's theme, hope you'll enjoy it!

Happy @elucienweekofficial! I've been dying to share this one from @mellendraws since I first saw it!

Look, I posted something similar previously. And I am someone who has NEVER published anything that I’ve written, even on here or AO3, because I’m not brave enough to be that vulnerable, but after seeing this and the predicament @separatist-apologist is dealing with and goodness knows HOW many others, plus it’s the freaking WGA strike—

But people, fanfic authors, are providing you with free, and I mean FREE whole length books. They have and continue to work so hard to create content, both for themselves and us. They are vulnerable with their writing, sharing pieces of themselves in their work. And can you be sad that someone didn’t finish or is taking a while to update that work? Absolutely! That’s valid to be sad. But authors are PEOPLE, and they have created something wonderful that you enjoy. It is SO disrespectful for readers to feel entitled to that work. You are not owed an ending, and you certainly aren’t owed the ability to take someone else’s work to submit to AI devices that in turn SAVE AND STORE all of that information to regurgitate to others without the author’s explicit permission and encouragement. Do not steal someone’s work and upload it as your own anywhere—to AI, to AO3, ANYWHERE. You can headcanon it to your heart’s content, and that’s fine! Change the endings in your brain as many times as you want (which is so magical in and of itself). But remember one thing the next time you think about stealing someone else’s work—

You are not entitled to anyone’s labor or items. End of story.