#lucien pov

[the-darkestminds]

Desolate Autumn 🍂

Eris refuses his father's order to kill Lucien's lover, Jesminda, and faces severe punishment. Lucien flees the Autumn Court.

In canon, Eris states that he wasn’t present for the execution. I explored what it might have been like if he had been there. I can’t stop making my fave Vanserra brothers suffer. 😭

🍁 Eris & Lucien POV 🍁

Can also be found on ao3 here!

Hope you guys enjoy 🥹 eternally grateful to anyone who chooses to read it all the way through 🫶

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Eris

Eris had long since learned to dread being summoned to his father’s throne room. He had only unpleasant memories of the place, and chose to avoid it as often as he could. As the eldest son of Autumn, that was not often enough. His footsteps echoed off the marble beneath him as he made his way through the Forest House. His mind was consumed with thoughts of last night’s patrol, the sentry who had been reported missing near Winter’s border without explanation. Eris pondered the problem as he turned the corner and the grand entrance to the throne room came into view. The arched hall was decorated with intricate carvings of golden vines, interspersed with rubies that sparkled in the afternoon light. He had always held the belief that the beauty of the Autumn Court was in stark contrast to the ugliness of the people who called it home.

Eris’s steps faltered as he entered the throne room, the scene unfolding before him. Lucien, a gag of fire between his lips, was restrained by his brothers, Jasper and Orson. He struggled against the grip they each had on his arms. A lesser faerie female was bound and on her knees before his father. Tears streamed down her face as she turned her pleading eyes towards Eris.

He stopped abruptly, his stomach sinking as understanding dawned on him as to why he had been called here. What he might be required to witness. He glanced around the room taking note of his father’s loyal sentries standing watch along the walls. His other brothers, Alix, Arden and Conall stood to the side with knowing smirks on their smug faces. Mercifully, his mother’s chair sat empty beside his father’s throne. At least she would not be here to bear witness to whatever horror was soon to unfold.

“You called?” Eris forced himself to say with a drawl. He flicked an invisible piece of lint from the lapel of his emerald green jacket. He kept his face cool and indifferent—it had become a near-permanent mask, here in his father’s court of snakes.

“Eris.” Beron’s voice thundered through the room. “We were just about to begin.” Jasper and Orson turned at his name, and both gave him a slight nod before quickly averting their eyes.

“Oh?” Eris glanced at Lucien once more, who thrashed against his brothers like a wildcat caught in a trap. His russet eyes so wide and pained as they met Eris’s from across the room. The band of fire around his mouth prevented him from speaking beyond frantic grunts and moans. Eris slid the practiced smirk on his face and tried to disguise the slight tremor in his hands as he clasped them behind his back. He tried to think of something he could say to prevent the impending violence, but his mind came up blank.

“Lucien here thinks to sully himself by marrying a lesser fae whore. He has deluded himself into believing she is a worthy match for a High Lord’s son,” Beron spat, his lip curling as he snarled in Lucien’s direction. Beron met Eris’s gaze once more and smiled viciously. “You shall eliminate the problem for me, Eris.” Beron delivered a swift and brutal kick to the female’s ribs and she curved in on herself with a pained cry. Lucien screamed.

“I am sure Lucien will come to see reason, eventually.” His smile was cold and harsh as he looked down at his youngest son.

Eris started at the command. That Beron would truly have Lucien’s lover executed in front of him…He was well acquainted with his father’s penchant for violence, but this seemed uniquely cruel, even for him. Eris knew he’d been stupid to hope his presence had been requested merely to oversee courtly business, or to deal with his ever-scheming younger brothers, always at each other’s throats. But an execution? To be carried out by Eris himself?

“No.” Eris’s heart raced. He had never once uttered that word to his father. Had not once, in his long life, disobeyed a direct order. The silence that followed was deafening. Beron jerked around at the outright refusal. His brothers gaped at him.

“What did you say to me, boy?” Beron seethed. The rage on his face was enough to send lesser males running. But Eris held his ground. He would not cross this line—would not be the one to break Lucien so thoroughly, so ruthlessly, that he might never recover from the pain and loss.

“I will play no part in this,” Eris shrugged. He fought to keep his tone measured and aloof despite the storm raging inside of him. His gut churned at the slight glint of hope he spied in Lucien’s eyes. Eris hated to give him that hope—knew that Beron would see this done with or without Eris’s involvement. Beron glared at him, and Eris held his gaze. Let it wash over him in all its fury. Seconds, maybe minutes, passed in silence. Then—

“Get out. I’ll deal with you later,” Beron sneered. Eris turned to leave and Lucien began screaming in earnest then, struggling wildly against Jasper and Orson as his other three brothers looked on with varying degrees of amusement. He screamed as if Eris had been his final hope—had come to save him from this hell he was now trapped in.

It cut Eris deep—to turn his back on Lucien and walk away. To burn that remaining sliver of hope to ash. When he reached the throne room doors, he heard his father unsheath the blade. Heard the sobs of the female on the floor. Heard as Lucien, the gag now removed, begged, “Jesminda! NO, FATHER, PLEASE! PLEASE!” And as Eris stepped into the hallway, he cringed at the wet thud that sounded as Jesminda’s head toppled to the floor, his stomach lurching in response. Lucien’s agonized shrieks rang loudly in his ears and he felt his heart splinter in two.

Eris barely made it to his chambers before he was violently sick upon the patterned carpet. With a wave of his hand he winnowed the mess away and stumbled towards the oak desk in the corner of his opulent rooms, eyes and throat burning. He had only minutes to see this through. Prayed that he was correct in thinking Beron would want Lucien to suffer for at least several days before finally ending it. Ending him. Eris found a spare bit of parchment and began hastily scrawling the urgent message to the High Lord of Spring. He did not sign it nor leave any indication of who it was from. The message vanished in a puff of smoke. He grabbed a second page, his handwriting sloppier with each frantic word he wrote. Just as the second note disappeared, there was a loud pounding on his chamber doors.

Eris knew what was coming then. He steeled himself as he opened the heavy wooden door, revealing four of his father’s most trusted guards. He did not ask them to explain themselves. Eris merely raised his chin, stepped into the hall, and closed the door behind him. His heart pounded with every step he took as the guards led him down, down, down into the coldest depths of the sprawling Forest House. Eris tried to clear his mind, tried to remain calm as they arrived in the frigid dungeons. With a deep breath in, he let himself be guided into the familiar cell. It had been worth it, he told himself. He prayed he was right.

Lucien

Lucien stirred. The first things he heard were the low cooing of a morning dove, the steady trickle of a fountain. A warm breeze that smelled of spring wrapped itself gently around him. And then he felt a throbbing pain in the back of his head. His eyes remained closed. Suddenly, memories came flooding back to him in a violent rush. Jesminda, executed by his father, the unlocked cell door, fleeing through the forest, Orson dead by his blade, and Tamlin, Jasper—The scenes flashed in his mind.

Lucien was dragged to an empty cell near the stables outside and tossed roughly to the ground. No better than a caged animal. He sat numbly in the cold, hard dirt, trying to block out the memory of Jesminda’s cries, her pleas to his father, to him, to spare her. The sound of the blade withdrawn from its sheath. The glint as his own father angled the sword back, and—The opening of the cell door shook him from his thoughts. A plate of stale bread and water was placed on the ground. As the unfamiliar sentry left, Lucien did not hear the click of the lock sliding back into place. He rose and made his way to the door on silent feet. Unlocked. He glanced down. There upon the plate, concealed beside the bread, was a dagger. He did not question his luck. He palmed the dagger and opened the door.

And then he was running. Barreling through the brisk Autumn forest. Red and gold and orange streaked by him as he sprinted as fast as his legs would carry him south. His chest heaved with every step, until he tasted blood on his tongue and his lungs burned painfully. He could hear his brothers in pursuit of him, crashing through the branches and leaves scattered about the damp forest floor. They were close–their taunting jeers sounded loudly in his ears. He blocked out their words, pushed himself to run harder and faster. The air began to warm, and the reds and golds blossomed into greens and pinks and—a deafening roar cleaved the land. Tamlin. Dumb luck, or perhaps fate, that he was here when Lucien needed him most.

The beast appeared before him in a flash of fur and sharp fangs. Lucien ducked quickly and he heard the squelch of claws stabbed through flesh. Heard Jasper howl in pain. Lucien whirled as he brought his dagger up, just as Orson slashed his axe down upon his head. Lucien twisted at the last second to dodge what was surely a death blow. A wall of flame rose up between them. He let his sorrow and rage fuel him as he pushed that fire outward towards Orson. His brother roared in pain as the white-hot fire lanced his exposed side. Arden stepped up and met Lucien’s flame with a flare of his own. Metal and fire blasted and collided. And then Lucien was moving again, twisting low, angling that dagger upwards—steel met skin as the blade sunk deep into Arden’s throat. He choked, blood gurgling from his gaping mouth, and then collapsed. Dead.

It happened too fast. Lucien heard Tamlin roar in warning—he made to turn, but wasn’t quick enough to avoid the blunt edge of the axe that clobbered him in the back of the head. A flash of pain—and then darkness swallowed him whole.

Lucien was fully awake now. He cracked his eyes open against the soft light. Tamlin sat in a wooden chair to his left, a grim expression on his handsome face as he gazed back at Lucien.

Jesminda. No—Jesminda…she was dead. Murdered, as he watched uselessly. Lucien squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the image of her head rolling across the floor. He tried to breathe but the air was trapped in his lungs. He was suffocating, gasping for breath, choking on the pain that wrapped itself around his heart. Lucien wept.

Soon his body was shaking with the force of his sobs, and an agonized moan crawled its way out of his throat. He heard screaming—excruciating, gut-wrenching screaming, and realized it was coming from his own lips. He tore at his long hair, attempted to peel the flesh from his bones so he might not be forced to live within his own skin. He wished he were dead—tried to smother himself in flame and burn away the remaining scraps of his withered soul. Strong, callused hands stopped him before he could do any damage. He thrashed and fought against them—wished those hands would grow claws once more and lodge themselves deep inside his chest. But instead, they gripped him firmly, an anchor to the world he so desperately wished to leave. Tamlin said nothing as he held Lucien tightly. Lucien could smell the salt of his own tears and felt like his heart had been cleaved in two. The pain was unbearable—he begged for someone, anyone, to end him. He sunk deeper into despair—let it drag him down, down, down, until he was drowning in it. He sank deeper still, where the screaming was quieter. Until he heard nothing but the frantic beat of his own wretched, cowardly heart.

Eris

It was not the first time Eris had found himself locked in the darkened chamber beneath the palace. His knees dug into the cold stone of the dungeon floor, his hands bound to each side at an uncomfortable angle. The restraints dug painfully into his wrists as he clenched his hands against the numbness that had slowly taken hold since he’d been chained up the evening prior. His ears strained to pick up any sounds outside the room, but all he could hear was the quiet trickle of water on the slick stone walls. Eris tried and failed not to let his mind wander to thoughts of Lucien’s escape, whether he had made it to Spring unharmed, if Tamlin had received his warning to haul ass to his northern border and await Lucien’s arrival. Eris prayed the note had reached him in time. That the second note had found its way into the correct hands. Before he could truly spiral, he heard several sets of footsteps growing louder in their approach.

Eris’s heart began to race as he heard the door swing open, those footsteps echoing off the cell’s damp walls. His father’s face appeared before him and rage glowed in his muddy brown eyes.

“You’ll be pleased to know your traitorous brother made it beyond Spring’s borders. With two of your own brothers killed in the fight,” Beron snarled at him. Eris said nothing–waited for the guilt to come. Instead, he felt relief. Brothers they might be, he held no true affection for the lot of them, save for Lucien. He wondered who had landed the killing blows. He hoped it had been Tamlin, so as to spare Lucien from further violence. He knew his brothers had been following orders, but they had always done so with such glee, seeming to enjoy the pain they inflicted on their father’s behalf. Eris did not ask who, specifically, had been killed. He did not want to know.

Sharp pain lanced across his face as Beron struck him once, twice. A punch to his gut stole the air from his lungs. He could taste the coppery tang of blood on his tongue.

“What will it take for you to learn that you are only useful to me if you obey?” Beron mused. Eris said nothing, gritting his teeth against the rage that coursed through him. He had never denied his father anything, save this. He was as loyal and obedient as his favored hounds. A dog to command. His father glared down at him a beat longer, a cruel smile forming on his lips. Beron jerked his head to someone behind him and Eris heard the familiar clink of a weapon being removed from a belt chain. He glanced briefly over his shoulder to confirm his suspicions.

Though he had long since learned how to pace himself, to weather the pain, it did not stop the dread from pooling in his stomach as his father’s sentry unfurled the whip at his side. Eris faced forward once more, began tunneling deep down within so as to hide from the pain of what was to come. Cold sweat started to bead on his forehead as one of the guards stepped forward and tore Eris's shirt, exposing his back to the chilled air. He braced himself against the searing sting of the whip against his flesh, but it did little to lessen the blow as the leather slashed through the skin on his back. He grunted at the pain that sliced through him, but swallowed the scream in his throat.

“Again,” Beron commanded.

The whip cracked again, and Eris jerked, hissing through his teeth. He did not regret refusing his father’s order to kill the female. Jesminda, Lucien had screamed. His long life had taught him that doing his father’s bidding served him far better than rebelling ever would. But this—what had been done in that wretched throne room—Eris was right to take no part in it. He could still hear the sound of the female’s head as it tumbled to the floor with a wet thump. Could still hear Lucien’s agonized cry as he was forced to watch. No—he did not regret it. Only that he hadn’t been able to stop it.

Again and again, the whip tore into his ruined back, retracing scars from previous punishments. Eris arched against the agony, panting through clenched teeth. He felt the blood dripping down his sides, along with a sharp throb of pain with each beat of his shredded heart.

The whip cracked again, tearing his skin down to the bone, and Eris finally screamed. He heard the sentry step back and sagged slightly against the chains. Beron gripped Eris’s chin roughly and forced him to meet his eyes.

“Consider this a warning, boy, should you think to disobey me again. Next time I'll have your head. Or perhaps I'll allow one of your remaining brothers the pleasure of ending you.” His father released him and strode out of the chamber.

Eris hung there, limply, his body trembling from the pain. He choked down the sob building in his chest, hating his father, his brothers, his life. Himself. The magnitude of his misery, his loneliness, washed over him in waves.

He should have been accustomed to it by now—the punishments, the beatings. Eris had spent much of his time growing up trying to protect his brothers, Lucien especially, from his father’s wrath. He had shielded them as much as he could, often taking the brunt of it himself. He had loved Lucien dearly, and still did. But that love terrified Eris to no end. He had quickly learned that caring for anyone in his father’s court was a weakness. That those he loved would soon be turned into weapons to be wielded against him. So Eris had shut Lucien out—treated him like trash until he was sure Lucien despised him, as he did the rest of their brothers. It hurt Eris—to see the warmth slowly disappear from Lucien’s gaze whenever their eyes met, day by day, until none remained. But it had been worth it if it kept the full force of Beron’s rage focused elsewhere, for a time.

The sentries, momentarily forgotten, shuffled forward and unclasped the chains encasing Eris’s wrists. He slumped forward, his arms too numb to catch himself as he face-planted on the hard stones with a grunt. Neither male addressed him as they exited the cell, though they left the door open. He was free to leave, it would seem. Yet he remained facedown on the ground, his hands tingling as they slowly regained feeling. A single tear traced a path down Eris’s cheek, mingling with the blood pooled beneath him. He breathed deeply, the musty air thick in his lungs. Seconds, minutes, hours later, perhaps, he finally rose, his back screaming in protest as he pushed himself up from the floor.

It would not do to dwell on things he could never have. He was a pathetic fool to even let himself consider what it might be like to see their friendship restored. To have Lucien once again look at him with admiration and light in his eyes. As Eris slowly limped out of the chamber, he swore to himself he would never show such weakness again. Lucien had made it to Spring safely. Eris didn’t let himself consider the emotional state he might be in. He was safe. It was enough.

[shadowqueenjude]

They watched me, too closely to be casual. Tamlin straightened a bit and said, “You look … better than before.” Was that a compliment? I could have sworn Lucien gave Tamlin an encouraging nod. “And your hair is … clean.” Perhaps it was my raging hunger making me hallucinate the piss-poor attempt at flattery. Still, I leaned back and kept my words calm and quiet, the way I might speak to any other predator. “You’re High Fae—faerie nobility?” Lucien coughed and looked to Tamlin. “You can take that question.” I ignored the release of tightness in my chest at that. “But what am I to do with my life here?” I pressed. “Do you—do you wish me to earn my keep? To work?” A stupid question, if he hadn’t considered it, but … but I had to know. Tamlin stiffened. “What you do with your life isn’t my problem.” Lucien pointedly cleared his throat, and Tamlin flashed him a glare. After an exchanged look I couldn’t read, Tamlin sighed and said, “Don’t you have any … interests?”

NAAAAAA cuz going back and reading shit like this, I just HAVE to know what the hell Lucien was thinking in these moments. He's literally Tam Tam's wingman 😭

[acourtofthought]

Cassian Bonus Chapter Ending “I’ll mail the letter tomorrow morning.” Nesta paused with her hand on the knob and looked over a shoulder. “You know nothing about who I am, and what I’ve done, and what I want. And while we’re on the subject . . . Send someone else next time. If I see you on my doorstep, I’ll scream loud enough for the servants to come running.” He gaped at her, the pain ebbing enough that he could stagger upright. (Nesta had kneed him in the balls) But Nesta was gone, slipping down the hall, where some servant called out to her and she murmured a response

Cassian did not circle over the house. But he could feel Nesta’s attention as he soared for the wall. Even shielded from sight, he could feel those blue-gray eyes on him.The feeling chased him all the way back to Velaris.

Azriel Bonus Chapter Ending

Something sparked in Azriel's chest, but he only nodded his thanks and left. He could picture it, though, as he ascended the stairs back to the House proper. How Gwyn's teal eyes might light upon seeing the necklace. For whatever reason....he could see it. But Azriel tucked away the thought, consciously erasing the slight smile it brought to his face. Buried the image down deep, where it glowed quietly. Lucien's POV Ending "When I sleep," she murmured, "I can hear your heart beating through the stone." She angled her head, as if the city view held some answer. "Can you hear mine?" He wasn't sure if she truly meant to address him, but he said, "No, lady. I cannot." Her too-thin shoulders seemed to curve inward. "No one ever does. No one ever looked - not really." A bramble of words. Her voice strained to a whisper. "He did. He saw me. He will not now." Her thumb brushed the iron ring on her finger. Another male's ring, another marker that she was claimed -

Cassian's POV features this line from Nesta: “You know nothing about who I am, and what I’ve done, and what I want.

And Lucien's features this line from Elain: Her too-thin shoulders seemed to curve inward. "No one ever does. No one ever looked - not really." They seem quite similar, don't they? Both have an Archeron sister claiming not to be seen by their mate. This is how SJM writes her romance. The characters might be inexplicably drawn to one another but it's not instant love, they don't know everything about the other from the start. Cassian's POV took place after meeting Nesta on only a few occasions and Lucien's took place when he met Elain for the very first time. They might have a general sense of what they need (i.e., Cassian saw beyond the physical for Nesta from the start and Lucien instinctively knew to take Elain to the sea (where their house in the human lands was or to a garden) but they're still learning about them as they go. Az's is a bit of a mirror to the above as well when he says he wouldn't call Gwyn a friend at that moment in time. Logically, why would they be friends? They had never interacted outside of training so it would be strange if they were friends all of a sudden (SJM is a slow burn type of author, can't you tell?). But it's not long until we get the sense Cassian really starts to understand Nesta, he realizes that one of her greatest frustrations is not being able to do more to protect others so he extends that to her. He studied Nesta for a long moment. His voice was rough as he said, "Five hundred years ago, I fought on battlefields not far from this house. I fought beside human and faerie alike, bled beside them. I will stand on that battlefield again, Nesta Archeron, to protect this house - your people. I can think of no better way to end my existence than to defend those who need it most." And it's not long after Lucien's POV that we see the same progression for him, where Elain wants to be seen and it's clear Lucien does. Where she's upset that her choices were taken away from her so he removes himself from the equation so she can go after what she wants (Graysen). "No - I didn't have time. I felt her, but..." A blush stained his cheeks. Lucien just stared and stared at my sister, as if he'd never seen her before. He glanced at Elain, who was again studying her lap. "I'm not need here. I'll fight if you need me to, but..."

And it's shortly after Solstice that Az understands Gwyn's desire to not be powerless again, where he shows admiration for the work she's done and believes in her ability to make it through the Rite. But the most important similarity in these three situations (I don't think you can include Chaol into this comparison considering he'd hadn't met Yrene in his POV and the humans of TOG didn't have fae mating bonds) is that their thoughts revolved around one particular female at the end: Cassian's POV ended with Nesta literally telling him not to come back or she'd scream for help though he felt her eyes on him as he flew away and he couldn't stop thinking about that fact. Lucien's POV ended with him struggling with the knowledge that Elain is engaged to another male and has no need / want for him. Azriel's POV ended with him being clueless as to why Gwyn's happiness sparked something in his chest. But each was left open ended, with unfinished business with those females. Cassian couldn't stop thinking about Nesta, Lucien was upset over Elain's betrothal and Az will need to eventually realize why Gwyn's happiness brought him such joy. Elain and Az are not unfinished business. He admitted that he would regret going back to kiss her and she returned the necklace. which signals that her business with him is done. Had that been the end of the bonus than maybe an argument could be made but since it ended with Gwyn, it's clear the direction the author is going to be heading down the line. Also, Cassians POV dealt with his emotions for Mor: And then there would be the matter of explaining it to everyone. To Mor. His blood chilled.

And Cassian had been jealous—of Mor’s shy glances at Azriel in those first few weeks. So when Mor had asked him to bed her . . . He’d done it. A jealous, stupid prick, he’d done it, and regretted it at that very frst thrust, when he’d felt her maidenhead yield to him, and realized the enormity of what she’d done.

He’d had lovers, some for a night and some for months, and Mor had never cared, but . . .This woman standing before him like a pillar of steel and fame . . . Cassian didn’t want to tell Mor about her. About how he’d touched her neck.

Lucien's POV dealt with his emotions for Jesminda: She had teased him, taunted him - seduced him so thoroughly that he hadn't wanted anything but her. She'd seen him not as a High Lord's seventh son, but as a male. Had loved him without question, without hesitation. She had chosen him. Betrayal, queasy and oil, slid through his veins. He'd said the same to Jesminda once. In order for a MMC to truly move forward with a FMC, we need to see them address the emotions for love interests of their past.

It's a curious thing then, that Az refuses to answer Rhys about Mor in relation to his actions with Elain. And probably why he's still clueless as to why the thought of Gwyn's happiness sparked something in his chest. He can't move forward with romantic feelings for her until he's ready to deal with his emotions for Mor. These are the important take aways from the Bonus POVs. Not that Cassian wanted a taste of Nesta and Azriel wanted a taste of Elain. Cassian confirms he had lust for Mor but that didn't mean anything. Lucien confirms he was ensnared by Jesminda's seduction yet they weren't endgame. What matters is the hard truths they're willing to face; Cassian acknowledging that he feels some guilt over being drawn to Nesta because of Mor and Lucien feeling guilt over being drawn to Elain because of Jesminda (with Az clearly not ready to face the truths of his past) and that the POVs ended with one female in their thoughts. Nesta (not Mor) for Cassian Elain (not Jesminda) for Lucien Gwyn (not Mor or Elain) for Az

[yaralulu]

[winnie-the-monster]

But Elain was staring over Nesta’s shoulder. At Lucien—whose face she had finally taken in.

Dark brown eyes met one eye of russet and one of metal. Nesta was still weeping, still raging, still inspecting Elain—Lucien’s hands slackened at his sides.

His voice broke as he whispered to Elain, “You’re my mate?”

Things I wanna know #253640: what was going on through Elain’s and Lucien’s mind during this moment. I need to know!

[animezinglife]

"Do you like Elain?"

Honey.

I adore Elain.

I appreciate Elain.

I respect Elain.

I love Elain.

My tomboy self has recently been on a sundress and plant kick because of Elain's influence.

I wish I were more like Elain.

Does that answer this silly question?

I missed the "Eluciens, do you like Elain?" poll and I'm mad about it, so here's my answer.

Yes, there are things I wish she did differently just like every other character, but I'm excited to see where her story leads.

[lainalit]

Ship wars in and of themselves are just silly and stupid but you will not convince me that calling elain boring or Azriel a fuckboy is on the same level as calling Gwyn an evil light singer who lied about her SA and calling Lucien ugly because he is disabled

[good-beans]

Last Line Challenge

Rules: In a new post, show your latest line (artwork or written), and tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you feel like)!

Thanks @thepatchycat for the tag! I'm currently tackling a gigantic choice-story fic project so have a quick choice result😅

The fire extinguisher’s weight is a reassuring one. You can relax having some control over the chaos that surely awaits.

Tagging people who I know are working on things rn but I feel bad choosing so PLEASE jump in if you want to share -- I'd love to see! :D @fayesdiary @rainbowghostcat @kyanako5972 @luce-speaks @lostxmelody @justzosiahere @yaraneechan @igotbones

[clockwork-ashes]

All You Have Is Your Fire - Part XXII

Find all previous parts on Ao3 :)

Summary: 'I can hear your heart beating through the stone.' For the briefest of moments, Lucien wondered if his mate would know exactly when his heart’s steady rhythm came to a sudden stop.

Note: A huge thank you to the lovely @sad-scarred-sassy who deserves all the credit for the post that inspired me to start writing this :) Another huge thank you to everyone reading! ALSO please look at this post, I gasped it's so lovely. All of @teddyhoneybear's moodboards are stunning <3

Tag List: @anishake / @nocasdatsgay / @mybestfriendmademe / @talibunny30 / @halfbutneverwhole / @wishfulimaginings / @goldenmagnolias / @emmers-bens123 / @cauldronblssd / @xirose / @rarephloxes / @thehighlordishere / @the-darkestminds /

There was something about the music that was making Lucien’s head ache. The string instruments were off-kilter, an odd mix of sounds, the drums pounding to the beat of his heart. The blood in his veins seemed to be moving slower than normal, the room was spinning. 

Eyes clenched shut, Lucien placed a hand on his temple, the mask permanently stuck to his brow in the way. The cold metal bit into the skin of his palm, sharp as any knife’s blade. His breath caught in his throat, the air around him seemed stale. 

He had forgotten. 

There was a warning shiver that crawled up his spine as he attempted to remove the mask from its place, the binding magic painfully familiar. His golden eye clicked before it whirred softly and he cast a careful glance around the throne room. 

There was a crowd assembled in the large space, sparkling chandeliers casting all the faeries in a strange light. Had he not known better, he would have assumed they all possessed fangs. Viper like smiles flashed, canines sharp enough to draw blood pressed against rose red lips. 

Lucien easily spotted members of the Spring Court, their own masks glittering, looking like starlight. He could not recognise any of their faces, their features mixed together until he frowned from the effort. 

There was no starlight Under the Mountain, Lucien remembered, nothing but darkness. 

A sigh was pulled from his lips and Lucien rubbed a broad hand on his chest, stopping just above his ribs, the fabric of his jacket cheap enough to scratch at his skin. Leaning back into his seat, he let his fingers trace the carved black stone of the arm rest. He much preferred the maple thrones of the Autumn Court, they were far more comfortable, familiar despite the decades that had passed. 

A laugh shattered the illusion that Lucien was sitting alone.

Like the point of a sword dragging sharply against marble, Amarantha laughed again and he winced at the nearness of the sound. 

Lucien was going to throw up, he felt the burning in his throat as he realised how close he was to the wretched female, so unbelievably close. He was so nervous, he could not even find it within himself to be embarrassed by the whimper that he made as a response to noticing that he and Amarantha were on a dais overlooking the 

crowd. 

They were sitting on twin thrones, snakes carved into the stone of the legs. This was everything like the Court of Nightmares was in his imagination, there was nothing worse than being trapped prisoner beneath a mountain. Lucien shuddered, knowing exactly whose place he was in.

Where was Tamlin? 

The thought was jarring, enough so that Lucien felt his jaw clench in anxiety. He bit his tongue to keep himself from asking the question out loud, tasting the sharp iron of blood. 

Amarantha laughed once more, a chorus of giggles and cackles rising from the assembled crowd. The sound echoed in Lucien’s mind as the attendees split a clear path in the middle of the floor. 

The Attor had entered the space and the creature slinked its way towards its queen. Wings flared as it flashed a wicked smile in Lucien’s direction, the grey flesh around its mouth pulled taut. 

The Attor was not alone. 

Claws gripped a cloaked figure, golden curls shone bright as sunlight beneath brown fabric. A girl — a human — was being dragged towards the raised platform. She was looking down, eyes following the pattern of the marble beneath her slippered feet. 

Lucien felt as panic choked him, as he lunged from his seat only to fall onto his knees. Something sparked within his chest, a thunderous snap urging him to move. 

“My mate,” he said softly, like it was a prayer. No one could have heard, and yet the girl looked up.

Brown eyes, the rich colour of a fawn’s coat, met his across the throne room. A shining thread gleamed to life, shooting towards the girl like a star, from Lucien’s heart to hers. His golden eye was the only witness to such magic before it disappeared. He was instantly pulled towards her, was ready to crawl on his hands and knees to get to her. 

Amarantha gripped his shoulder tightly, her sharp nails cut through the fabric of his shirt, split skin. Lucien spared her only a moment’s glance before he twisted his head to look sharply at the Attor, at the girl who was thrown in a careless heap to the ground. 

Elain Archeron, Lady of Roses. 

The thought washed over him like a wave crashing against a rocky shore. 

Lucien would have known her, their bond strong enough to sharpen his senses into remembering. 

The Attor pulled at her hood to reveal rounded ears, cheeks pale with fear, eyes wide as she openly stared at Lucien. 

“Elain,” he called out, but there was no recognition in that lovely gaze. As though he were a stone thrown into a lake, he felt himself sinking. 

Falling. 

Lucien jolted awake with his mate’s name still on his tongue. 

He was clutching the pillow beneath his head tightly, knuckles white. It was dark, perhaps very late in the night considering there were only embers in the fireplace. Cool, fresh air filtered into the small space and he distantly remembered leaving one of the arched windows open. 

For a moment, Lucien had forgotten where he was. He rubbed at his eyes, regaining a sense of his surroundings. His golden eye clicked into place and he froze, all the muscles in his body tense when he noticed the empty side of the bed.

Elain was gone, but her scent was everywhere. 

Jasmine and green grass, so out of place within the Autumn Court. It lingered on his skin, on his clothes, and Lucien realised she must have been holding onto him as they slept. 

Lucien’s hand reached out involuntarily to pat at the wrinkled sheets. The fabric was still warm, a phantom imprint of her head still on the fluffy pillows. He breathed in deeply, mind a whirl as he wondered where she might be. 

Or who might have taken her. 

Lucien lurched into a sitting position, breath caught in his chest as his head snapped towards the open windows. 

“Elain,” he whispered softly, an unspoken well of emotions as he uttered her name into the silence. 

She had pulled one of the comfortable armchairs right up to the sill. Her chin was in her hands, her full lips turned down slightly in the corners. Not exactly a frown, but she seemed lost in thought, pensive. She was looking up towards the sky, searching for something she had yet to find. 

“You can’t see the moon,” she said, voice clear as river water. “Through the trees, I mean.” Elain turned to face him and Lucien felt his cheeks warm, a blush rising to the tips of his pointed ears. 

A couple of days had passed, and they not yet spoken about the kiss they had shared. There was no awkwardness between them, no feelings of regret that he could feel from her end of the bond. If anything, their friendship was stronger, the bridge between their souls thrumming just beneath his rib cage. 

“You alright?” Lucien asked, voice quiet, hoping that she would answer honestly. 

Elain sighed, her shoulders dropping in defeat. “I couldn’t sleep,” she admitted. She played with the end of her braid, a nervous edge to the gesture. 

Lucien said nothing, simply waited for her to continue. 

Elain sighed once more, placed a hand onto her forehead. “I’ve been having these dreams,” she mumbled. He could tell from the anxiety that leaked into her tone that there was more to it all than she was currently choosing to share. “They’re very strange dreams, Lucien.” 

He tried to calm her steadily rising panic through the bond, keeping his voice soft as he addressed her. “Nightmares?” 

Elain shook her head, a few stray curls fell from her braid with the movement. “Visions,” she whispered, the word barely a hissed breath falling from behind gritted teeth. 

Lucien’s blood ran cold at his memories of her from the war, the shell of a person that she had become while lost in images of the future. “Don’t worry,” he attempted to reassure her, but Elain’s eyes were wide with fear. He was glad she had spoken quietly, suddenly paranoid that someone might be listening. “We’ll figure it out, Elain, don’t worry.” 

“I don’t understand them,” Elain muttered, more to herself than to him. She looked like a withered flower, as though thinking about what she saw was enough to seep life from her. 

Lucien wanted her to close the window. He weaved a simple spell around them, to ensure that no one could hear what else they might have said. The sounds of nature fell silent, unnerving to his ears even though it was of his own doing. “Come back to bed,” he offered, wondering why no one had taken it upon themselves in the Night Court to teach her, to help her when it came to her abilities. 

“I was doing so well,” Elain said to him, tears bright as silver shining along her eyes. “I hadn’t seen any since the war, it’s been years.” There was frustration in her statement, the legs of the chair scratched along the stone floor as she stood abruptly. 

“Elain,” Lucien began, licking his lips as he watched her. “Magic doesn’t work like that, you need to use whatever power you have or it consumes you.” She stood as still as a predator, listening carefully to his every word. It gave him the courage to continue, to at least warn her how dangerous her actions were. “Magic needs release and suppressing it only makes things worse.” 

Elain looked just about ready to break down into sobs. “I didn’t know,” she mumbled, fingers working the fabric of her night gown. 

“That’s alright,” Lucien said quietly, putting out his hand towards her. He was struggling not to blame the Inner Circle for their silent disregard of her abilities, of the sheer amount of power they chose to forget that she possessed. “Like I said, we’ll figure it out.” 

Elain eyed him, but she no longer looked so devastated. She inched towards him, slowly but surely. “I have no clue what the visions could mean, none at all.” 

Once she laced her fingers with his, Lucien flashed her a small smile. “Maybe I can help you work them out, I am known to be quite clever.” 

When Elain returned his smile, sitting on the mattress beside him, Lucien’s relief was overwhelming. She told him about how she had had no visions, no whisper of any other magic emerging. She had wrongly assumed that along with the destruction of the cauldron, her abilities had disappeared. 

By the time Elain was finished revealing the many details of her dreams, they were lying down beneath the covers. Facing each other, close enough their noses were nearly touching, Elain continued to express how worried she was. 

“The bones worry me the most,” she murmured. “What else could they mean but death?” 

Lucien nearly flinched as he considered her visions. He also had no idea what they could mean, but even he could not argue with her observation. “We’ll search the library, I’m sure we can find some answers there, maybe even a book on deciphering dreams.” 

Elain hummed in agreement, and although she still seemed worried, there seemed to be a huge weight lifted from her shoulders. She fell silent, her eyes fluttering shut, and Lucien assumed it was time for them to sleep. 

Elain moved closer to him, their legs a tangled mess beneath the sheets. “What were you dreaming about?” Her question had him snapping his eyes open, he traced the curve of her jaw with his eyes as he shrugged. 

“Amarantha,” he answered, knowing she would recognise the name. He hoped she would not ask for more information, he was still not used to speaking about all that had occurred Under the Mountain. 

Nails sharp as any blade. 

Unbearable pain shooting through his head. 

Blood on the marble floors. 

Lucien was pulled back to the present as he heard the animalistic snarl that fell from Elain’s pretty mouth. Almost as though she knew exactly what awful place his mind had taken him to. 

Eyes locked, Elain reached out hesitantly. Lucien noticed a slight shaking to her hand and he held his breath, waiting, anticipating her touch. 

Elain’s hand hovered in the space between them. He was usually more aware, careful of his scar and his eye, keeping them covered beneath the curtain of his hair or turned away from those around him.

Lucien had forgotten himself, had fallen onto the pillows unthinkingly. Elain could see him perfectly. 

There was a pause, a moment in time where the world seemed to stop its spinning.

Lucien dipped his chin in a silent nod, giving Elain the permission she was seeking. With gentle fingers, she traced the scar where it began, just above his brow. He heard the soft way Elain’s breath caught in her throat, felt as horror at what had been done to him slowly leak down the bond. 

“I would have liked to see her death,” Elain mumbled, the promise of violence in her tone. She moved even closer to him, each of her breaths ragged. 

Lucien said nothing, could hardly stand the look of absolute rage falling over her features. Beneath it all, he saw that she cared, and it frightened him unlike anything else.

Lucien let his eyes flutter shut, Elain’s soft touch an anchor. 

Everyone always thought it was best to ignore the scar, to divert their eyes as quickly as possible. They would look away from him, perhaps in an attempt to be polite. 

Lucien could not bear it, had wanted to shout that the scar was there to stay, that they should look at him. 

Look at me. 

Elain continued to map out the features of his face, to stroke at his split auburn brow before she inched towards his eyelid. The skin there was so thin, it was surprising that the healers and Dawn had been able to save it all, and she softened her touch even more. 

Light as a feather, her thumb brushed his eyelashes. 

Elain did not stop, did not even pause as she pressed her palm to his cheek. The most brutal of his scars, the one everyone flinched away from.  Faeries, with their ability to heal hardly ever had any marks that lasted the test of time. He had only ever seen a few permanent marks — the ones on his brothers’ backs. Everything else would fade, return to how it once was, unless the wound had been particularly harsh. 

Elain though, had a human heart, and as Lucien had come to learn, humans were creatures that could embrace change and thrive. 

Elain finally stopped once she had traced the smaller scar that cut across his lips. She pressed a gentle kiss there, nothing but a sweet brush of their mouths. 

Lucien shifted, pulled her close so that he might kiss her again. She smiled against him, threading her fingers into his hair. His hand was on her waist, and they were kissing, his tongue past the seam of her lips. 

Elain was not as shy this time, falling onto his chest when Lucien laid down onto his back. She gasped when he dragged his teeth along her full bottom lip, returning the kiss as she cupped his face with both her hands. 

Lucien let her decide what she wanted to do next, and was surprised at the way she moved against him. He ran his hands from her waist, up her back, and towards her hip, urging her to do as she pleased. 

Elain took her time, kissing him sweetly on the mouth one last time. Then she kissed his cheek, lips like silk. Finally, she kissed his eyebrow, pulling away to gauge his expression. 

Even in the dark, Lucien could see that she was blushing. He smiled up at her, and she seemed to realise that she was leaning on him with all of her weight.

Elain breathed a small laugh, falling onto her side of the bed. He heard her giggle into the pillows as she turned to face the opposite direction. She pressed her back against him, and Lucien threw an arm over her, waiting to see if she would ask him to move. 

Elain simply relaxed into his hold. “Good night, Lucien,” she said softly.

“Good night,” Lucien murmured, falling asleep as he thought about the gentle way Elain had traced his scar with her fingers. 

[the-darkestminds]

Finishing up another Eris POV fic! This one also has Lucien’s POV! 👀 I had no idea writing could be so fun?? This one is about Jesminda’s death. Has lots of pain and suffering for my Vanserra boys. I love them sm. Also why is it so hard to come up with character names? I’m trying to fill in the unnamed Vanserra brothers and I am struggling.

[shadowqueenjude]

Any writer in this fandom willing to write Lucien's POV of the continent in ACOWAR for me? 🥺👉👈

[acourtofthought]

Hey I love your posts and would love to know your opinion about this one: https://at.tumblr.com/melrielsworld/okay-so-im-working-on-a-theory-here-that-the/v5e6t2eu44ul. It's writen by an antielucien so you don't have to share it if you want to avoid problems with "the other side" but I really don't understand how someone can misunderstand a text so much to say this. Elain's and Lucien's mating bond is real and they're not mind speaking, Feyre is clearly hearing Elain through Lucien's mind and that's why it's written in italics. E*riels really need to learn how to read. And what do you think about that theory?? I personally think they're not, but maybe they do have fae blood in them. I think Lucien is the one with starborn powers.

Hello and thank you so much!

I'm guessing this person has blocked me since I'm unable to pull up their blog. Based off what you've told me though, it really does sound like they completely skewed the text.

I'm not sure how they could begin to claim anyone is "mind speaking" considering the exact wording of Lucien's inner monologue.

"An ache like a blow to the chest went through him." Does that sound like something someone would say to another person?

Or.....

"He didn't expect her to answer, and he gave himself all of one more minute before he'd rise from this chair and leave."

Or..... the fact that he references everyone by name. If you're mind speaking to someone you don't say things like, "But there she was. His mate." if he were mind speaking with Elain. He'd say, "there you are! You're my mate." Or if he were mind speaking with Feyre, he wouldn't say, "That the circle of people who now claimed to be Feyre's new family." You'd say, "the circle of people who are your new family."

Not to mention Feyre later feels guilty for violating Lucien’s thoughts which proves she wasn't mind speaking with him. Or had she heard a mind speaking conversation between Elain and Lucien, she would have felt guilty for violating both Lucien and Elain's thoughts.

Any way you look at it, it was clearly only Lucien's very private thoughts.

[yaralulu]

Lucien’s care and protectiveness over tamlin is something that has been so evident and obvious throughout this entire series that if sjm tries to change that narrative once we get lucien’s pov and we’re inside his head, I’ll actually blow myself up.I see some bullshit line about how tamlin has always sucked and I’m out of hereeeee.I know sjm hates tamlin and will take every opportunity to shit on him but at this point there is no need to obliterate their friendship/tamlin’s character any further.Let us have this one thing woman 😭.

Lucien’s inner monologue about tamlin should be less “i actually hate this man” and more “damn he looks like shit rn i kinda wanna hug him”.Get the vibe right sjm.

[laxmiree]

[CN] MLQC’s Lucien - Rebirth Date - English Translation [2/3]

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️

This post contains a detailed spoiler for a date that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

No Man's Land Solo SSR Event | Rebirth Date Part 1 | Date Part 2 (You're here!) | Date Part 3 | Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7

Before I even adjust to the harsh white light, I crash straight into Lucien's gaze.

"Not hiding anymore?"

He squinted his eyes and chuckled softly.

He crouches in front of me, his hair scattered across his forehead, damp with water droplets, his exposed chest rising and falling slightly.

He casually grips the chainsaw and pulls the starter cord with one hand, producing a piercing and terrifying sound.

Translation under the cut!

Previous Part=> [Click Here]

—[Part 3]—

More and more people are becoming seriously ill, and the radiation alarm in the safe house is sounding more intensely every day. However, Lucien still has no plans to move.

Seeing him inject medication into himself more frequently, I finally break the silence.

MC: Are you okay?

Lucien: Don't worry. This body has been confirmed to be able to last for some time in this environment.

MC: ...Don't you feel any pain?

Lucien: I'm not very sensitive to pain, so it won't be a factor in my judgment.

His tone is relaxed, and he even curls up on the sofa to read the pile of documents I retrieved for him earlier.

Despite trusting Lucien's judgment, I still faintly feel a certain sense of urgency.

MC: Lucien, will our experiment really yield results?

MC: In such a harsh world, shouldn't we lower our high expectations? Wouldn't it be better to just be ordinary people?

Instead of chasing for answers that we may never get in our lifetime, wouldn't it be enough to just simply live?

For a long time after that, Lucien doesn't say anything.

He just gazes at me quietly, his bottomless eyes like an abyss, making it hard to see clearly.

Lucien: I don't know.

Lucien: But experiments inevitably come with failures and contingencies, so I can't give you a definite answer.

Lucien: But I believe there will be results.

Even knowing that he might fail, he will definitely keep trying—until he reaches a point where he can no longer move forward, and then calmly starts over from the beginning.

Lucien: For this, I am willing to pay any price.

✂———————–

At night, I have a dream.

In the dream, those severely ill people stand up, the desolate land starts to have flowers, and there are more smiling faces.

However, everything shatters like broken glass the next moment, revealing a dreadful and bewildering void.

Lucien: MC, we have failed. This world will not get better.

Lucien, standing in front of me, starts to rot and blur, eventually turning into an exploded mess of blood.

I can feel the cold liquid seeping through my body, flowing over my cheeks and arms.

Lucien: [whispers gently] MC, how do you feel now?

I can't see Lucien's face, but I can hear his voice filling my mind.

I feel him gently embrace me, patiently waiting for my answer as usual.

The incredibly realistic sensation makes it hard for me to tell whether this is a dream or reality.

Lucien: Listen to the voice in your heart and tell me your answer.

I feel my entire body start to tremble violently, and countless unfamiliar images flash through my mind.

I see Lucien's calm yet mad eyes;

I hear the sharp whirring sound of a machine;

I see blood pouring like a waterfall, drenching my entire body like rain.

I scream and open my eyes—only to see Lucien's face the next second.

The face in front of me overlaps with the one in my dream, but he only has a worried expression on his face; some kind of familiar scent clings to his body.

Lucien: Are you okay?

I'm tongue-tied and can only stare at him blankly.

I don't know if it's the effect of the moonlight, but his entire figure seems to be covered with a faint halo, which then dissipates in the blink of an eye.

MC: I… seem to have had a nightmare and seen many scenes.

He gently strokes my back, but his eyes imperceptibly darken a little.

Lucien: I observed that your Evol fluctuations are quite significant. The recent radiation tide may have also affected you.

Perhaps it's the lingering effect of my dream, but as I look at Lucien standing before me, I feel an inexplicable timidity and uneasiness. I subconsciously reach out my hand to him.

Suddenly, I realize my body is without an isolation suit, and Lucien has almost no protective equipment. I quickly wrap myself in the blanket.

MC: Lucien, get away from me quickly! I'm not wearing an isolation suit! Get out quickly!

Lucien: ….

Lucien: A certain lady's decision is too hasty, making me a bit worried that you might actually dislike me.

The next second, a warm palm covers my head through the blanket.

I can't see Lucien's expression at this moment.

It seems to be a time that belongs solely to him. As long as he doesn't allow it, I can't enter.

Even long after, I still don't know what expression he had during that nearly minute-long silence.

In the end, Lucien walks out of the room without a word.

As I lie on the bed, my heart is still pounding with lingering fear, and I have lost the desire to fall asleep again.

The inexplicably familiar scent floods the entire room, making me sit up in frustration and can't help but sigh.

In the faint moonlight, I suddenly see some small, scattered black spots 'growing' on the floor.

Curious, I squat down and find that it is very fresh, with a faint hint of a metallic smell—

It's blood!

Cold sweat instantly seeps out of my back. Only Lucien had been here just now... Could he be injured? Or affected by the radiation?!

I hastily don the isolation suit and run in the direction of the bloodstains.

The intermittent and scattered bloodstains seem to guide me, leading me step by step toward an unfamiliar corridor.

??: “Rrrrr…”

A strange and piercing sound echoes from the depths, like... the sound I heard amidst the chaotic scenes.

Faint specks of light flicker faintly in the darkness, and I suddenly feel a surge of fear and foreboding —

That glimmer of light might destroy many things, but I can't stop my footsteps.

I traverse through numerous unfamiliar corridors and finally step into the glimmer of light—

A vast yet desolate building appears before me, with an enormous pit at its center.

Gazing down, I see the pit divided into numerous sections by plastic sheeting. The walls and sheeting are splattered with varying shades of crimson.

I descend into the pit, pushing aside the hanging curtains as if unveiling the true face of another world.

A thick stench of blood fills my nostrils, and the grating whirring of machinery churns my entire brain.

A familiar figure flickers past in a corner cubicle.

The curtain blurs his face, and the shadow gracefully raises a machine, lowering his arm like a conductor.

The transparent shower curtain is covered with dense 'raindrops'. Something is sliced open and falls heavily.

It rolls on the ground, spinning endlessly, before finally stopping in the gap between the curtains.

I see a person's face, the same face that was wailing and begging for death.

Now, he lies silently on the ground, his rotting eyes staring rigidly at me.

And in the next second, the shadow picks him up, revealing that familiar face through the gap.

Standing against the light, he turns his head, his calm yet crazed eyes gleaming brightly.

He doesn't seem surprised by my arrival.

An arm shrouded in the shadows casually slashes, slicing the entire curtain open in an instant-

-revealing the full, blood-soaked figure of Lucien before my eyes.

My rapid breathing fogs up the transparent visor on my isolation suit, obscuring most of my vision, yet I've never seen him more clearly.

I burst into a sprint.

A torrent of images and distant memories flooded my mind, slicing through me like a scalpel.

??: ...That’s a highly-contaminated area, and you say that child came out alive?!

??: She is crucial to our experiment. We need to study her powers—we have no choice!

Under the glaring lights, someone binds me to an iron table.

Countless days and nights blur together as flames sear my skin and sharp blades inflict ceaseless pain.

??: ...Under high radiation, her body remains stable... she's carrying high-intensity energy... 5 people died from…

??: Evol core… like a quasi-magnetic field…

Strangers speak in tongues I cannot comprehend, their eyes perpetually fixed on the distant future, but all I sense is madness.

They are all lunatics, lunatics of the apocalypse, and I only want to escape.

As I blast open the laboratory door, a gentle-faced young boy appears before me in the thick smoke.

Boy: Once you pass through this door, you can run free.

He pressed a button, and accompanied by a piercing siren, an iron door not far away slowly opened.

Boy: Remember to take the forest path. Nothing will harm you there.

For a moment, I thought this would be another experimental trap set by those lunatics.

The hurried footsteps gradually came closer, but the boy made no move to jump away. He simply watched me patiently.

Boy: You have three minutes to decide whether you want to be caught by them again or trust me.

Boy: Of course, you can also trust your instincts.

Those deep, dark eyes seemed to possess a strange power. In an instant, I turned and ran towards the door.

Suddenly, another thought struck me, and I turned back at the iron door.

MC: Why are you helping me?

Boy: If you want to know who you are one day, you can come find me.

MC: ….How can I find you?

Boy: I will let you find me. Remember to learn how to protect yourself.

✂———————–

Years later, I remembered his words when I finally realized the 'Grim Reaper' I carried within me.

I want to know who I am and what I want to change.

And he seemed to know that I would eventually return to this 'land of death,' leaving messages and marks in each area ravaged by radiation-

I thought Lucien was different.

Maybe he was hiding it too well, or perhaps he finally lost his patience.

The grating sounds of machinery and footsteps seemed to follow me like a shadow, yanking my taut consciousness back to reality.

As if anticipating my arrival, many places were already locked up.

The ground and walls around me tremble slightly, permeated with a strange yet familiar power that makes me feel dizzy.

The unbearable heat and dizziness slow my steps, but the chilling footsteps keep my nerves on edge.

To speed up, I simply take off the isolation suit.

I don't want to die, I must live on.

My heart feels like it's burning, urging me not to stop moving.

After escaping aimlessly, I found myself back in that deep pit again.

As I gaze upon the blood-stained black bags concealed behind the curtain, a sudden idea strikes me.

Shrouded in the humid darkness, I dare not make a single move.

The already cramped space seems to be devouring the last vestiges of air, causing me to slow my breathing instinctively.

Muffled rustling sounds intermittently pierce the silence, sounding eerily ominous in the heightened state of my hearing.

I force myself to focus, but the image of those eyes keeps intruding into my mind uncontrollably.

….The truth is, I don't know Lucien at all.

Is it because he has never fully revealed himself to me, or have I never truly gotten close to him?

Amidst a tinge of sadness, I realize that none of this matters now—I must focus on how to survive.

I exhale softly, and a familiar surge of power gathers in my chest. Through the haze, I catch glimpses of fragmented images —

The hum of machinery fills my ears, while the pulsing red light and constantly fluctuating curves leave afterimages on my retina.

I walk through the crowd of people, and flowers bloom by the roadside.

In that hazy world, there exists a pair of eyes that always gaze upon me with unwavering clarity.

Sharp, resolute, and scrutinizing. He seems to be peering through me to a distant place.

MC: …Lucien.

I part my dry lips but make no sound.

The air seems to thin even further, and in a daze, I feel as if I've been transported back to countless moments of frigid breathlessness in the past.

The unknown and fear tug at my remaining consciousness as if I'm about to be swallowed by the boundless darkness.

I don't know how much time has passed; the rustling sounds around me have also disappeared.

Perhaps Lucien has gone somewhere else to find me. Thinking this, I carefully unzip the zipper.

Before I even adjust to the harsh white light, I crash straight into Lucien's gaze.

The world roars, and my heart seems to stop for a moment.

Lucien: [chuckles] Not hiding anymore?

He squinted his eyes and chuckled softly.

He crouches in front of me, his hair scattered across his forehead, damp with water droplets, his exposed chest rising and falling slightly.

He casually grips the chainsaw and pulls the starter cord with one hand, producing a piercing and terrifying sound.

I can't fathom how long he's been waiting like this.

Five minutes? Ten minutes? Or has he been silently observing my every move from the beginning, watching me run continuously and then return here, lying down in the bag?

Fear makes me clench my fingers tightly, but I do not avoid his gaze, trying to find the answers I seek in his eyes.

MC: ...Why did you help me escape back then?

I don't answer him; instead, I ask a question I have never figured out. As if slightly surprised, Lucien's eyes flicker.

Lucien: Because I worry that they will damage my test subject.

He answers directly and calmly as if it's the most natural answer.

Somehow, I suddenly don't feel afraid at all. I even feel like laughing, so I simply pull at the corners of my mouth and lie in the bag.

I don't want to think about whether his close proximity will be affected by the radiation from my body, nor do I want to consider how to escape from this rapidly moving saw.

Maybe I've always wanted to find some way to talk to Lucien.

MC: Then why do you want to study me?

MC: Why do so many people want to study me? Do you want to change the world?

Lucien: [chuckles] Change the world?

Lucien laughs as if what I just said is a joke.

But soon he restrains his laugh, his gaze turns slightly bright as he looks at me again, and his voice carries an undisguised seriousness and stubbornness.

Lucien: Why change the world? I think this world is fine.

Lucien: What I want to seek is 'evolution'.

Next Part=> [Click Here]

[kyuu-doodles]

Impetus of Red and Black

[bookishfeylin]

Sorry y'all but the Inner Circle is 100% in character in ACOSF. They've never loved Feyre as her own person and were never her "family" because they've always been willing to put what Rhysand wants first. It's been that way from day one. She's just an accessory to Rhysand to them.