Lucien Vanserra Sass Appreciation Post
For more serious Lucien content see my other posts:
What the fuck is happening in the Autumn Court series Part 1 (Eris) and Part 2 (Lady of the Autumn Court)
What stories are left: Lucien
When Lucien introduces himself:
"Lucien," my captor said quietly, the name echoing with a hint of a snarl. "Behave."
Lucien went rigid, but he hopped off the edge of the table and bowed deeply to me. "My apologies, lady." Another joke at my expense. "I'm Lucien. Courtier and emissary." He gestured to me with a flourish. "Your eyes are like stars, and your hair like burnished gold."
When Lucien is intrigued by Feyre:
"Well," Lucien said, his remaining russet eye fixed on me, "you don't look half as bad now. A relief, I suppose, since you're to live with us. Though the tunic isn't as pretty as a dress."
When Lucien wants to know if Feyre thinks he's hot:
"Thank you for the meal," I said. It was all I could think of.
"Won't you stay for wine?" Lucien said with sweet venom from where he lounged in his seat.
I braced my hands on my chair to rise. "I'm tired. I'd like to sleep."
"It's been a few decades since I last saw one of you," Lucien drawled, "but you humans never change, so I don't think I'm wrong in asking why you find our company to be so unpleasant, when surely the men back home aren't much to look at."
At the other end of the table, Tamlin gave his emissary a long, warning look. Lucien ignored it.
"You're High Fae," I said tightly. "I'd ask why you'd even bother inviting me here at all-or dining with me." Fool-I really should have been killed ten times over already.
Lucien said, "True. But indulge me: you're a human woman, and yet you'd rather eat hot coals than sit here longer than necessary. Ignoring this"-he waved a hand at the metal eye and brutal scar on his face-"surely we're not so miserable to look at."
When Feyre leaves their first dinner together:
He gave a distant nod and motioned for me to leave. Dismissed. Like the lowly human I was. Lucien propped his chin on a fist and gave me a lazy half smile.
Enough. I got to my feet and backed toward the door. Putting my back to them would have been like walking away from a wolf, sparing my life or no. They said nothing when I slipped out the door.
A moment later, Lucien's barking laugh echoed into the halls, followed by a sharp, vicious growl that shut him up.
When Lucien notices Feyre checking him out:
Lucien paused, and I found him smirking at me, making the scar even more brutal. "Were you admiring my sword, or just contemplating killing me, Feyre?"
When Lucien is a sarcastic motherfucker:
“So is this what you do with your lives? Spare humans from the Treaty and have fine meals?” I gave a pointed glance toward Tamlin’s baldric, the warrior’s clothes, Lucien’s sword.
Lucien smirked. “We also dance with the spirits under the full moon and snatch human babes from their cradles to replace them with changelings–”
When Lucien describes Amaratha perfectly:
"What happened to the magic to make it act that way?"
Lucien let out a harsh laugh. "Something was sent from the shit-holes of Hell," he said, then glanced around and swore. "I shouldn't have said that. If word got back to her-"
When they run into the Boggee:
"I heard its voice in my head. It told me to look."
Lucien rolled his shoulders. "Well, thank the Cauldron that you didn't. Cleaning up that mess would have ruined the rest of my day." He gave me a wan smile. I didn't return it.
When he gives Feyre a title:
"Are you a warrior, though?" Would you be able to kill me if it ever came to that?
Lucien huffed a laugh. "Not as good as Tam, but I know how to handle my weapons." He patted the hilt of his sword. "Would you like me to teach you how to wield a blade, or do you already know how, oh mighty mortal huntress?
When Lucien just needs someone to spar with:
“Do you ever stop being so serious and dull?"
"Do you ever stop being such a prick?" I snapped back.
Dead—really, truly, I should have been dead for that.
But Lucien grinned at me. "Much better.
When Lucien and Feyre spend quality time together:
Over the next three days, I found myself joining Lucien on Andras's old patrol while Tamlin hunted the grounds for the Bogge, unseen by us. Despite being an occasional bastard, Lucien didn't seem to mind my company, and he did most of the talking, which was fine; it left me to brood over the consequences of firing a single arrow.
An arrow. I never fired a single one during those three days we rode along the border. That very morning I'd spied a red doe in a glen and aimed out of instinct, my arrow poised to fly right into her eye as Lucien sneered that she was not a faerie, at least. But I'd stared at her-fat and healthy and content-and then slackened the bow, replaced the arrow in my quiver, and let the doe wander on.
When Lucien diagnoses Faerie problems perfectly:
A brush of ice slithered across my nape. "He would be that brutal?"
Lucien studied the wine in his goblet. "You don't hold on to power by being everyone's friend. And among the faeries, lesser and High Fae alike, a firm hand is needed. We're too powerful, and too bored with immortality, to be checked by anything else."
When Lucien is told to Back Off, so he exacts his revenge:
Lucien's russet eye was bright, though the smile he gave me didn't meet it. The face of Tamlin's emissary-more court-trained and calculating than I'd seen him yet. "I'm unavailable today," he said. He jerked his chin to Tamlin. "He'll go with you."
Tamlin shot his friend a look of disdain that he took few pains to hide. His usual baldric was armed with more knives than I'd seen before, and their ornate metal handles glinted as he turned to me, his shoulders tight. "Whenever you want to go, just say so." The claws of his free hand slipped back under his skin.
No. I almost said it aloud as I turned pleading eyes to Lucien. Lucien merely patted my shoulder as he passed by. "Perhaps tomorrow, human."
When Lucien hides:
"I had to go sort out some hotheads on the northern border-official emissary business," he said, setting down the hunting knife he'd been cleaning, a long, vicious blade. "I got back in time to hear your little spat with Tam, and decided I was safer up here. I'm glad to hear your human heart has warmed to me, though. At least I'm not on the top of your killing list."
When Lucien and Feyre become friends after he tells her how to trap a Suriel:
Another riddle-and another bit of information. I said, "It's a good thing that while you have superior hearing, I possess superior abilities to keep my mouth shut."
He snorted as I took the knife from the table and turned to procure the bow from my room. "I think I'm starting to like you-for a murdering human."
When Lucien is day drinking and living his best life:
“Would you like me to grovel with gratitude for bringing me here, High Lord?"
"Ah. The Suriel told you nothing important, did it?"
That smile of his sparked something bold in my chest. "He also said that you liked being brushed, and if I'm a clever girl, I might train you with treats."
Tamlin tipped his head to the sky and roared with laughter. Despite myself, I let out a quiet laugh.
"I might die of surprise," Lucien said behind me. "You made a joke, Feyre."
I turned to look at him with a cool smile. "You don't want to know what the Suriel said about you." I flicked my brows up, and Lucien lifted his hands in defeat.
"I'd pay good money to hear what the Suriel thinks of Lucien," Tamlin said.
A cork popped, followed by the sounds of Lucien chugging the bottle's contents and chuckling with a muttered, "Brushed.”
When Lucien is incredibly casual for a guy going to an orgy:
Lucien laughed. “Yes—all those female faeries around you were females for Tamlin to pick. It’s an honor to be chosen, but it’s his instincts that select her.”
“But you were there—and other male faeries.” My face burned so hot that I began sweating. That was why those three horrible faeries had been there—and they’d thought that just by my presence, I was happy to comply with their plans.
“Ah.” Lucien chuckled. “Well, Tam’s not the only one who gets to perform the rite tonight. Once he makes his choice, we’re free to mingle. Though it’s not the Great Rite, our own dalliances tonight will help the land, too.
When Lucien is the mom friend:
"You look . . . refreshed," Lucien observed with a glance at Tamlin. I shrugged. "Sleep well?"
"Like a babe." I smiled as him and took another bite of food, and felt Lucien's eyes travel inexorably to my neck.
"What is that bruise?" Lucien demanded.
I pointed my fork to Tamlin. "Ask him, he did it."
Lucien looked from Tamlin to me and then back again. "Why does Feyre have a bruise on her neck from you?" he asked with no small amount of amusement.
When Lucien loves drama:
"Accountable?" I sputtered, placing my hands flat on the table. "You cornered me in the hall like a wolf with a rabbit!"
Lucien propped an arm on the table and covered his mouth with his hand, his russet eye bright.
"While I might not have been myself, Lucien and I both told you to stay in your room," Tamlin said, so calmly that I wanted to rip out my hair.
I couldn't help it. Didn't even try to fight the red-hot temper that razed my senses. "Faerie pig!" I yelled, and Lucien howled, almost tipping back in his chair. At the sight of Tamlin's growing smile, I left.
When Lucien bolts:
“I had to keep my hands clenched at my sides to avoid wiping my sweaty palms on the skirts of my gown as I reached the dining room, and immediately contemplated bolting upstairs and changing into a tunic and pants. But I knew they’d already heard me, or smelled me, or used whatever heightened senses they had to detect my presence, and since fleeing would only make it worse, I found it in myself to push open the double doors.
Whatever discussion Tamlin and Lucien had been having stopped, and I tried not to look at their wide eyes as I strode to my usual place at the end of the table.
“Well, I’m late for something incredibly important,” Lucien said, and before I could call him on his outright lie or beg him to stay, the fox-masked faerie vanished.
When Feyre goes to a party:
"Cauldron boil me," Lucien whistled as I came down the stairs. "She looks positively Fae."
I squared my shoulders, disinclined to let him see how much his words or voice or sheer well-being impacted me. Not yet. "I'm surprised I'm even allowed to participate tonight."
"Unfortunately for you and your neck," Lucien countered, "tonight's just a party."
"Do you lie awake at night to come up with all your witty replies for the following day?"
Lucien winked at me, and Tamlin laughed and offered me his arm. "He's right,"....
"So there's singing and dancing and excessive drinking," Lucien chimed in, falling into step beside me. "And dallying," he added with a wicked grin.
When Lucien plays a prank:
"I also remember you telling me how witchberries were harmless, and the next thing I knew, I was half-delirious and falling all over myself," I said, recalling the afternoon from a few weeks ago. I'd had hallucinations for hours afterward, and Lucien had laughed himself sick-enough so that Tamlin had chucked him into the reflection pool...."
When Feyre gets drunk of Faerie Wine:
“Tam would gut me if he caught you drinking that.”
“Always looking after your best interests,” I said, and pointedly chugged the contents of the glass. It was like a million fireworks exploding inside me, filling my veins with starlight. I laughed aloud, and Lucien groaned.
“Human fool,” he hissed.
But his glamour had been ripped away. His auburn hair burned like hot metal, and his russet eye smoldered like a bottomless forge. That was what I would capture next.
“I’m going to paint you,” I said, and giggled—actually giggled—as the words popped out.
"Cauldron boil and fry me,” he muttered, and I laughed again.”
When Lucien is hungover and third-wheeling:
Lucien kept rubbing at his temples as he ate, unusually silent, and I hid my smile as I asked him, “And where were you last night?”
Lucien’s metal eye narrowed on me. “I’ll have you know that while you two were dancing with the spirits, I was stuck on border patrol.” Tamlin gave a pointed cough, and Lucien added, “With some company.” He gave me a sly grin. “Rumor has it you two didn’t come back until after dawn.”
I glanced at Tamlin, biting my lip. I’d practically floated into my bedroom that morning. But Tamlin’s gaze now roved my face as if searching for any tinge of regret, of fear. Ridiculous.
“You bit my neck on Fire Night,” I said under my breath. “If I can face you after that, a few kisses are nothing.”
He braced his forearms on the table as he leaned closer to me. “Nothing?” His eyes flicked to my lips. Lucien shifted in his seat, muttering to the Cauldron to spare him, but I ignored him.
“Nothing,” I repeated a bit distantly, watching Tamlin’s mouth move, so keenly aware of every movement he made, resenting the table between us. I could almost feel the warmth of his breath.
“Are you sure?” he murmured, intent and hungry enough that I was glad I was sitting. He could have had me right there, on top of that table. I wanted his broad hands running over my bare skin, wanted his teeth scraping against my neck, wanted his mouth all over me.
“I’m trying to eat,” Lucien said.”
When Lucien drops one of the best lines in the book:
"I see," I lied, not quite seeing at all. Lucien chuckled, sensing it, and I glared sidelong at him. "You've been noticeably absent again."
He used the dagger to clean his nails. "I've been busy. So have you, I take it."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded.
"If I offer you the moon on a string, will you give me a kiss, too?"
When Lucien doesn't know what is coming in the future:
Downstairs, Lucien snorted at the sight of me. "Those clothes are enough to convince me I never want to enter the human realm."
"I'm not sure the human realm would know what to do with you," I said.
Lucien's smile was edged, his shoulders tight as he gave a sharp look behind me to where Tam was waiting in front of a gilded carriage. When he turned back, that metal eye narrowed. "I thought you were smarter than this."
When Lucien admires Feyre's attitude:
“Don’t you understand what Rhys is?”
“I do!” I barked, then sighed. “I do,” I repeated, and glared at the eye in my palm. “It’s done with. So you needn’t hold to whatever oath you swore to Tamlin to protect me—or feel like you owe me anything for saving you from Amarantha. I would have done it just to wipe the smirk off your brothers’ faces.”
Lucien clicked his tongue, but his remaining russet eye shone. “I’m glad to see you didn’t sell your lively human spirit or stubbornness to Rhys.”
When Lucien is a fashionista:
Lucien had gifted both to me—the dagger during the months before Amarantha, the belt in the weeks after her downfall, when I’d carried the dagger, along with many others, everywhere I went. You might as well look good if you’re going to arm yourself to the teeth, he’d said.
When game recognize game
“Cursebreaker,” some murmured. “Blessed,” others whispered.
I made a show of looking surprised—surprised and yet accepting of the Cauldron’s choice. Tamlin’s face was taut with shock, the Hybern royals’ nothing short of baffled.
But I turned to Lucien, my light radiating so brightly that it bounced off his metal eye. A friend beseeching another for help. I reached a hand toward him.
Beyond us, I could feel Ianthe scrambling to regain control, to find some way to spin it.
Perhaps Lucien could, too. For he took my hand, and then knelt upon one knee in the grass, pressing my fingers to his brow.
When Lucien is scared of Amren:
“I think Amren would probably deny that she feels any affection for us—”
“Amren is a bedtime story they told us as younglings to make us behave. Amren was who would drink my blood and carry me to hell if I acted out of line. And yet there she was, acting more like a cranky old aunt than anything.”
“We don’t—we don’t enforce protocol and rank here.”
“Obviously. Rhys lives in a town house, by the Cauldron.” He waved an arm to encompass the city.
When Lucien is a little murderous:
“You’re working with that prick,” Cassian cut in, whatever catching-up now over, apparently. He moved to Mor’s side, a hand on her back. He shook his head at Azriel and Rhys, disgust curling his lip. “You should have spiked Eris’s fucking head to the front gates.”
Azriel only watched them with that icy indifference. But Lucien crossed his arms, leaning against the back of the couch. “I have to agree with Cassian. Eris is a snake.”
When Lucien volunteers to go on a quest:
“You will be going into the human territory,” Rhys warned. “I can’t spare a force to guard you—”
“I don’t need one. I travel faster on my own.” His chin lifted. “I will find her. And if there’s an army to bring back, or at least some way for her own story to sway the human forces … I’ll find a way to do that, too.”
My friends glanced to each other. Mor said, “It will be—very dangerous.”
A half smile curved Lucien’s mouth. “Good. It’d be boring otherwise.
When Lucien makes a friend
“Not for long—not if Vassa has anything to do with it.”
“You sound like an acolyte.”
Lucien blushed, glancing at Elain. “She’s got a foul temper and a fouler mouth.” He cut me a wry look. “You’ll get along just fine.”
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Home - azriel
azriel x gn reader
warnings: blood, light scene spoilers
I took some creative liberty with a scene in acowar :)
There were nights – drunken and sober – when Cassian, Azriel, and I had argued and placed bets on who would kill Eris Vanserra.
I was not expecting to have a chance so soon.
Eris spat on the ice, the mixture of blood and saliva landing next to my face. One of his brothers wiped at their forehead, glaring at me through bloody fingers, while another cradled his broken arm carefully.
Dragging my hands underneath my shoulders, I forced my body up, back up, I was not done yet—
A knee dug deep into my spine, forcing me back down. Injuries both new and old sparked with agony and holding in the groan was a battle in itself, but I refused to give the Autumn Fae any once of satisfaction.
“Stand,” Eris taunted, crouching over to smirk at me. His brothers began to chuckle, and the tip of a boot lodged itself in the side of my bruised ribs.
I might have responded if dragging every individual breath through my lungs did not require all of my energy and focus.
He smirked again, pivoting on the ice. “Drag her,” He commanded over his shoulder. Before he even finished speaking or the knee had lifted, rough hands were pulling me across the ice. I scrambled for purchase, desperate to stop. No, no, I had gotten so close.
Just across the frozen lake lay the border and beyond that – home. My mate, my family, the city I had missed so dearly during my time in the Spring Court.
Searing pain roared through my blood as cloth ripped and bare skin scraped along the rugged surface and each jolt pulled apart injuries. I dug my numb fingers deep into the snow and ice – this was survival. We were on the brink of war with no idea who our allies were. I would not let them take me ; what was waiting on the other side was worse than death. I will not give up Velaris. I will not ruin what Rhysand sacrificed fifty years for.
But the march was unforgiving. Ten long gauges in the ice behind us was all there was to show for my effort, and we were close enough now to the Autumn side of the lake to hear the sentries murmuring to each other, waiting for us.
I let go. I had no strength to spare. Driven on fear and adrenaline alone I twisted – stretching for the nearest weapon. If I could take at least one of them with me—
There! A knife.
Fingertips only a hairsbreadth from the hilt, I froze.
Even with the dampener on my magic I could feel the change in the air – the crackle of energy before a fight.
An Illyrian warrior slammed into our path, dark leather wings cleaving through the cold air. Familiar crimson siphons glinted as Cassian crossed his arms, his face twisted with rage and violent intentions.
The Vanserras halted, drawing into a loose protective circle.
I wanted to sob, scream, kiss the feet of Madja and the healers who had saved his wings. And once I was home I would. But I was not there yet.
I forced my body to move again, to pry my limbs from their hands, but before I could get up Eris latched onto me with enough force to crush bone and I was forced back into the ice just as another figure crashed onto the ice.
This time, overwhelmed with relief at the sight of my mate and exhausted by pain, I did cry out. Tears fell – their tracks turning cold on my skin.
There was something terrible about the way Azriel approached Eris. There was no thundering rage like Cassian. It was quiet, mute, the way priestesses approach the bloody and dying on a red-stained battlefield. The shadows cloaked his body like fog, almost swallowing the light from his siphons. Yet his head and neck remained bare, as if not even darkness itself wanted to be too close to the cold hatred barely contained behind those dark eyes. His gaze went immediately to the grip Eris held on me and it was then I realized Cassian and I were going to lose the bet.
“I suggest you let go,” Cassian spoke first, the whisper of two blades unsheathing accompanying his threat.
Eris did not turn away from the shadowed Illyrian in front of him to respond. He yanked my head up and tucked the tip of a knife under my jaw, ignoring the threatening growl from Cassian and my hiss of pain at the awkward angle.
He tutted, tilting the blade to turn my face to look at him. “You were such a compliant, easy captive” —he dragged the blade along my jaw— “ready to be dragged back to Autumn.”
“Not alive,” I snarled, spitting at him.
The light from Azriel’s siphons guttered completely as the shadows engulfed him. And when I heard the tell-tale song of his sword being drawn, I moved – rearing my head up into Eris’s chin and rolling from his loosened grip before he could react.
Azriel was by my side in an instant, helping me to my feet with a gentle but firm hand, and setting himself between Eris and I. Shadows wound eagerly around his shoulders, some of them reaching for me as his wings stretched partially to keep me tucked safely behind him.
Eris swore, wiping at his bloody mouth and drawing his sword. The air sparked with energy again, the taste of a bloody fight tangible in the air.
Cassian, who had stalked around the group to meet us, lowered into a fighting stance next to his brother.
Cassian flinched. Azriel froze. Even the Autumn Fae looked at me in confusion.
I stepped around Azriel, gripping a crevice in his leather armor to steady myself, and lowered a baleful glare on Eris. “As much joy as I would receive from getting revenge on this frozen lake, I will save the honor of killing you for someone who deserves it far more than I do.”
Eris’s eyes narrowed but Azriel did not give him a chance to respond. He leapt into the sky with me in his arms and in a few seconds, we were sweeping north across the lake to the Night Court.
Only once we were well across the border did I finally let my body relax, wrapping my arms tighter around Azriel. He tucked me in close, his gentle touch as comforting as greeting the other half of my soul.
I may not have made my way home, but home had found its way to me.
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