A Song of Flame & Shadow - Eris x OC

The Village

Author's Note: I just wanted to take a moment to thank you all for reading, bookmarking, voting, and everything else. It's not an exaggeration to say that it makes my day when I wake up and see that someone enjoyed my little passion project. Thank you <3

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Midday found them trekking towards the village – the one where Lucien knew a blacksmith who might be able to remove Vel's shackles. The rain had let up only a bit, and instead of curtains of water, it was more like a fine mist that seemed suspended in the air. They still held hands, making small talk and joking like nothing had changed. Although it had.

That morning they both bathed in a nearby lake, keeping a respectful distance in an attempt to not get sidetracked. That stopped neither of them from teasing the other. Vel wondered if she'd ever spent so much time in her life scrubbing her breasts, taking extra care to stretch languidly and reach every possible spot. Lucien watched her from a few feet away, submerged to his nose in the cold water. His russet eyes gleamed with fire, the spark reflected in the surface of the lake which was as still as the male himself.

At one point she asked for help with her back – a few scraps of cloth were stuck to the grisly scars that were finally forming there. There was a tension in the air as Lucien approached her slowly, deliberately, as he cleaned the scabbing wound and then traced the contours of her neck, her waist, her back, as his lips grazed the spot he'd bitten the night before. The water heated around them, a few fish floated belly up, and Lucien cursed and moved away, mumbling something about going for a swim before breakfast. He came back looking only slightly less ruffled and by that point, the fish were cleaned, prepared, and roasting over a tiny fire – more smoke than flames – that she'd managed to start.

But as soon as their bellies were full and they started trudging through the swampy forest paths they fell back into a familiar rhythm. The tension between them faded to the background as they had to shift their focus to their feet and the obstacles ahead – the slippery rocks, the sharp brambles, the hazardous roots, the squelching mud.

They reached the village in the afternoon and Lucien left her at the edge of the forest as he checked in with the blacksmith. She stood against a tree and alternated between watching the gates of the village, waiting for his return, and staring at the treeline to the south. If she squinted a little, she could see the reds and oranges giving way to green. Or perhaps it was just her imagination. The rain had stopped momentarily and the sun had peeked through the clouds, making the wet leaves glisten.

She went back to watching Lesser Faerie come and go through the gates. Some hurried, some slow, some in dark cloaks, and some in relative finery. One figure had ashy dark hair, with a long narrow face and clawed fingers. He would have looked intimidating if not for the purple bruise blooming on his cheek and around his eye and the raggedy state of his brown clothes. As he exited the village, he looked around him carefully and sniffed once, then twice, before transforming into a sleek black creature, all fangs and fur. Only the yellow eyes were the same. As he ran into the forest, Vel realized how lucky they were that they hadn't run into any beasts. Or perhaps it was not luck, but Lucien's presence – an heir of the Autumn Court would hardly ever be a target for creatures in his own forest. No matter how much she'd avoided the thought, and how little he wanted the position, he was still an heir. And her promise to herself seemed emptier than ever.

Vel looked towards the south again – the Spring Court border was still a day or two away. Freedom seemed so close, yet there was something she couldn't quite put her finger on that made it feel so far. A tight sensation deep in her gut. No magic, no visions, just a strange foreboding feeling that something would go wrong. She shook her head as if to clear the fog away and, from the corner of her eye she saw a hint of red. She'd given Lucien her cloak to wear, and, though the hood covered most of his face, it seemed the sun insisted on gilding him, his long red hair bright in the sparse rays. He was carrying something in his arms, under the cloak. As he approached to stand in front of her, she playfully tugged on a strand of hair. "You need to put that away. It might as well be a beacon." Lucien scoffed but didn't move to swat her hand away. Whatever he was carrying seemed more important.