Lucien Vanserra Quotes

“If I offer you the moon on a string, will you give me a kiss, too?" - Lucien Vanserra”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“I didn’t care. Not as Nesta was sprawled upon the stones.

I knew that she was different.

From however Elain had been Made … Nesta was different.

Even before she took her first breath, I felt it.

As if the Cauldron in making her … had been forced to give more than it wanted. As if Nesta had fought even after she went under, and had decided that if she was to be dragged into hell, she was taking that Cauldron with her.

As if that finger she’d pointed was now a death-promise to the King of Hybern.

Nesta took a breath. And when I beheld my sister, with her somehow magnified beauty, her ears … When Nesta looked to me …

Rage. Power. Cunning.

Then it was gone, horror and shock crumpling her face, but she didn’t pause, didn’t halt. She was free—she was loose.

She was on her feet, tripping over her slightly longer, leaner limbs, ripping the gag from her mouth—

Nesta slammed into Lucien, grabbing Elain from his arms, and screamed at him as he fell back, “Get off her!”

Elain’s feet slipped against the floor, but Nesta gripped her upright, running her hands over Elain’s face, her shoulders, her hair— “Elain, Elain, Elain,” she sobbed.

Cassian again stirred—trying to rise, to answer Nesta’s voice as she held my sister and cried her name again and again.

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.”
― Sarah J Maas

“So, again, I will say this only once,” Rhys went on, his expression smoothing into lethal calm, dragging me from the colors and light and shadows gathering in my mind. “Feyre did not dishonor or betray Tamlin. I revealed the mating bond months later—and she gave me hell for it, don’t worry. But now that you’ve found your mate in a similar situation, perhaps you will try to understand how it felt. And if you can’t be bothered, then I hope you’re wise enough to keep your mouth shut, because the next time you look at my mate with that disdain and disgust, I won’t bother to explain it again, and I will rip out your fucking throat.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“He just wanted a walk- and a few books. It had been an age since he'd even had free time to read, let alone do so for pleasure.

But there she was.

His mate.

She was nothing like Jesminda.

Jesminda had been all laughter and mischief, too wild and free to be contained by the country life that she'd been born into. 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.

Elain had been... thrown at him.

He glanced toward the tea service spread on a low-lying table nearby. 'I'm going to assume that one of those cups belongs to your sister.' Indeed, there was a discarded book in the viper's usual chair. Cauldron help the male who wound up shackled to her.

'Do you mind if I held myself to the other?'

He tried to sound casual- comfortable. Even as his heart raced and raced, so swift he thought he might vomit on the very expensive, very old carpet. From Sangravah, if the patterns and rich dyes were any indication.

Rhysand was many things, but he certainly had good taste.

The entire place had been decorated with thought and elegance, with a penchant for comfort over stuffiness.

He didn't want to admit he liked it. Didn't want to admit he found the city beautiful.

That the circle of people who now claimed to be Feyre's new family... It was what, long ago, he'd once thought life at Tamlin's court would be.

An ache like a blow to the chest went through him, but he crossed the rug. Forced his hands to be steady while he poured himself a cup of tea and sat in the chair opposite Nesta's vacated one.

'There's a plate of biscuits. Would you like one?'

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, hopefully avoiding Nesta's return.

But sunlight on gold caught his eye- and Elain slowly turned from her vigil at the window.

He had not seen her entire face since that day in Hybern.

Then, it had been drawn and terrified, then utterly blank and numb, her hair plastered to her head, her lips blue with cold and shock.

Looking at her now...

She was pale, yes. The vacancy still glazing her features.

But he couldn't breathe as she faced him fully.

She was the most beautiful female he'd ever seen.

Betrayal, queasy and oily, slid through his veins. He'd said the same to Jesminda once.

But even as shame washed through him, the words, the sense chanted, Mine. You are mine, and I am yours. Mate.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“If I offer you the moon on a string, will you give me a kiss, too?"- Lucien Vanserra”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“I don't know who looks more comfortable: Az or Lucien Vanserra.'

I chuckled, glancing over my shoulder to where the shadowsinger carried my friend, both of them making a point not to speak, look, or talk.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“I don't know who looks more uncomfortable: Az or Lucien Vanserra.'

I chuckled, glancing over my shoulder to where the shadowsinger carried my friend, both of them making a point not to speak, look, or talk.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“Her eyes were the brown of a fawn's coat. And he could have sworn something sparked in them as she met his gaze.

'Who are you?'

He knew without demanding clarification that she was aware of what he was to her.

'I am Lucien. Seventh son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court.'

And a whole lot of nothing.
...
For a long moment, Elain's face did not shift, but those eyes seemed to focus a bit more. 'Lucien,' she said at last, and he clenched his teacup to keep from shuddering at the sound of his name on her mouth. 'From my sister's stories. Her friend.'

'Yes.'

But Elain blinked slowly. 'You were in Hybern.'

'Yes.' It was all he could say.

'You betrayed us.'

He wished she'd shoved him out the window behind her. 'It- it was a mistake.'

Her eyes were frank and cold. 'I was to be married in a few days.'

He fought against the bristling rage, the irrational urge to find the male who'd claimed her and shred him apart. The words were a rasp as he instead said, 'I know. I'm sorry.'

She did not love him, want him, need him. Another male's bride.

A mortal man's wife. Or she would have been.

She looked away- toward the windows. 'I can hear your heart,' she said quietly.

He wasn't sure how to respond, so he said nothing, and drained his tea, even as it burned his mouth.

'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.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“This eye,' Lucien gestured to the metal contraption. 'It can see things that others... can't. Spells, glamours... Perhaps it can help me find her. And break her curse.' He glanced at Elain, who was again studying her lap. 'I'm not needed here. I'll fight if you need me to, but...' He offered me a grim smile. 'I do not belong in the Autumn Court. And I'm willing to bet I'm not longer welcome at h- the Spring Court.' Home, he had almost said. 'But I cannot sit here and do nothing. Those queens with their armies- there is a threat in that regard, too. So use me. Send me. I will find Vassa, see if she can... bring help.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“It will be- very dangerous.'

A half smile curved Lucien's mouth. 'Good. It'd be boring otherwise.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“Elain fell into step beside me, peering at Lucien. He noticed it. 'I heard you made the killing blow,' he said.

Elain studied the trees ahead. 'Nesta did. I just stabbed him.'

Lucien seemed to fumble for a response, but I said to him, 'So where now? Off with Vassa?' I wondered if he'd heard of Tamlin's role- the help he'd given us. A look at my friend showed me he had. Someone, perhaps my mate, had informed him.

Lucien shrugged. 'First- here. To help. Then...' Another glance at Elain. 'Who knows?'

I nudged Elain, who blinked at me, then blurted. 'You could come to Velaris.'

He saw all of it, but nodded graciously. 'It would be my pleasure.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“Nesta threw another series of punches, and Cassian knew she was leading up to the knockout blow. Two left jabs and a right hook that slammed into the wood so hard it splintered.

And then she stopped, her first pressed against the wood.

Her panting breath swirled from her mouth in the frigid rain.

Slowly, she straightened, fist lowering, steam rippling through her teeth as she turned. He caught a flicker of silver fire in her eyes, then it vanished. Lucien had gone still.

Nesta stalked toward the two males. She met Lucien's stare as she approached the archway, and said nothing before continuing into the House. As if words were beyond her.

Only when her footsteps vanished did Lucien say, 'Mother spare you.'

Cassian was already walking to the wooden beam.

A small disc of impact lay in its centre, through the padding, all the way to the wood itself. It glowed. Cassian raised shaking fingers to it.

To the burn mark, still sparking like an ember.

The entire wood block was smouldering from within. He touched his palm to it. The wood was cold as ice.

The block dissolved into a pile of cinders.

Cassian stared in stunned silence, the smoking wood hissing in the rain.

Lucien came up beside him. He only said again, voice solemn, 'Mother spare you all.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“You might as well look good if you're going to arm yourself to the teeth.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“I said to him at last, 'I don't want your damn pity.'

'It's not pity. Tamlin said I shouldn't tell you-' He winced a bit.

'I'm not made of glass. If the naga attacked you, I deserve to know-'

'Tamlin is my High Lord. He gives an order, I follow it.'

'You didn't have that mentality when you worked around his commands to send me to see the Suriel.' And I'd nearly died.

'I was desperate then. We all were. But now- now we need order, Feyre. We need rules, and rankings, and order, if we're going to stand a chance of rebuilding. So what he says goes. I am the first one the others look to- I set the example. Don't ask me to risk the stability of this court by pushing back. Not right now. He's giving you as much free rein as he can.'

I forced a steady breath to fill my too-tight lungs. 'For all that you refuse to interact with Ianthe, you certainly sound a great deal like her.'

He hissed, 'You have no idea how hard it is for him to even let you off the estate grounds. He's under more pressure than you realise.'

'I know exactly how much pressure he endures. And I didn't realise I'd become a prisoner.'

'You're not-' He clenched his jaw. 'That's now how it is and you know it.'

'He didn't have any trouble letting me hunt and wander on my own when I was a mere human. When the borders were far less safe.'

'He didn't care for you the way he does now. And after what happened Under the Mountain...' The words clanged in my head, along my too-tense muscles. 'He's terrified. Terrified of seeing you in his enemies' hands. And they know it, too- they know all they have to do to own him would be to get ahold of you.'

'You think I don't know that? But does he honestly expect me to spend the rest of my life in that manor, overseeing servants and wearing pretty clothes?'

Lucien watched the ever-young forest. 'Isn't that what all human women wish for? A handsome faerie lord to wed and shower them with riches for the rest of their lives?'

I gripped the reins of my horse hard enough that she tossed her head. 'Good to know you're still a prick, Lucien.'

His metal eye narrowed. 'Tamlin is a High Lord. You will be his wife. There are traditions and expectations you must uphold. We must uphold, in order to present a solid front that is healed from Amarantha and willing to destroy any foes who try to take what is ours again.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“So give him time, Feyre,' Lucien said. 'Let's get through the wedding, then the Tithe next month, and then... then we can see about the rest.'

'I've given him time,' I said. 'I can't stay cooped up in the house forever.'

'He knows that- he doesn't say it, but he knows it. Trust me. You will forgive him if his family's own slaughter keeps him from being so... liberal with your safety. He's lost those he cares for too many times. We all have.'

Every word was like fuel added to the summering pit in my gut. 'I don't want to marry a High Lord. I just want to marry him.'

'One doesn't exist without the other. He is what he is. He will always, always seek to protect you, whether you like it or not. Talk to him about it- really talk to him, Feyre. You'll figure it out.' Our gazes met. A muscle feathered in Lucien's jaw. 'Don't ask me to pick.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“His face paled, and he stroked a hand down the mare's cobweb-coloured mane. 'I was forced to watch as my father butchered the female I loved. My brothers forced me to watch.'

My heart tightened for him- for the pain that haunted him.

'There was no magic spell, no miracle to bring her back. There were no gathered High Lords to resurrect her. I watched, and she died, and I will never forget that moment when I heard her heart stop beating.'

My eyes burned.

'Tamlin got what I didn't,' Lucien said softly, his breathing ragged. 'We all heard your neck break. But you got to come back. And I doubt that he will ever forget that sound, either. And he will do everything in his power to protect you from that danger again, even if it means keeping secrets, even if it means sticking to rules you don't like. In this, he will not bend. So don't ask him to- not yet.'

I had no words in my head, my heart. Giving Tamlin time, letting him adjust... It was the least I could do.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“His red hair was tied back, and there wasn't a hint of finery on him, just armoured leather, swords, knives... His metal eye roamed over me, his golden skin pale. 'We've been hunting you for over two months,' he breathed, now scanning the woods, the stream, the sky.

Rhys. Cauldron save me. Rhys was too far back, and-

'How did you find me?' My steady, cold voice wasn't one I recognised. But- hunting for me. As if I were indeed prey.

If Tamlin was here... My blood went icier than the freezing rain now sluicing down my face, into my clothes.

'Someone tipped us off you'd been out here, but it was luck that we caught your scent on the wind, and-' Lucien took a step toward me.

I stepped back. Only three feet between me and the stream.

Lucien's eye widened slightly. 'We need to get out of here. Tamlin's been- he hasn't been himself. I'll take you right to-'

'No,' I breathed.

The word rasped through the rain, the stream, the pine forest.

The four sentinels glanced between each other, then to the arrow I kept aimed.

Lucien took me in again.

And I could see what he was gleaming: the Illyrian fighting leathers. The colour and fullness that had returned to my face, my body.

And the silent steel of my eyes.

'Feyre,' he said,' holding out a hand. 'Let's go home.'

I didn't move. 'That stopped being my home the day you let him lock me up inside of it.'

Lucien's mouth tightened. 'It was a mistake. We all made mistakes. He's sorry- more sorry than you realise. So am I.' He stepped toward me, and I backed up another few inches.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“Feyre,' Lucien pleaded, and dared another step, his hand outraised.

My arrow angled toward him, my bowstring groaning.

I'd never realised that while Lucien had been trained as a warrior, Cassian, Azriel, Mor, and Rhys were warriors. Cassian could wipe Lucien off the face of the earth in a single blow.

'Put the arrow down,' Lucien murmured, like he was soothing a wild animal.

Behind him, the four sentinels closed in. Herding me.

The High Lord's pet and possession.

'Don't,' I breathed. 'Touch. Me.'

'You don't understand the mess we're in, Feyre. We- I need you home. Now.'

I didn't want to hear it. Peering at the stream below, I calculated my odds.

The look cost me. Lucien lunged, hand out. One touch, that was all it'd take-

I was no the High Lord's pet any longer.

And maybe the world should learn that I did indeed have fangs.

Lucien's finger grazed the sleeve of my leather jacket.

And I became smoke and ash and night.

The world stilled and bent, and there was Lucien, lunging so slowly for what was now blank space as I stepped around him, as I hurtled for the trees behind the sentinels.

I stopped, and time resumed its natural flow. Lucien staggered, catching himself before he went over the cliff- and whirled, eye wide to discover me now standing behind his sentinels. Bron and Hart flinched and backed away. From me.

And from Rhysand at my side.

Lucien froze. I made my face a mirror of ice; the unfeeling twin to the cruel amusement on Rhysand's features as he picked at a fleck of lint on his dark tunic.

Dark, elegant clothes- no wings, no fighting leathers.

The unruffled, fine clothes... Another weapon. To hide just how skilled and powerful he was; to hide where he came from and what he loved. A weapon worth the cost of the magic he'd used to hide it- even if it put us at risk of being tracked.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“Little Lucien,' Rhys purred. 'Didn't the Lady of the Autumn Court ever tell you that when a woman says no, she means it?'

'Prick,' Lucien snarled, storming past his sentinels, but not daring to touch his weapons. 'You filthy, whoring prick.'

I loosed a growl.

Lucien's eyes sliced to me and he said with quiet horror, 'What have you done, Feyre?'

'Don't come looking for me again,' I said with equal softness.

'He'll never stop looking for you; never stop waiting for you to come home.'

The words hit me in the gut- like they were meant to. It must have shown in my face because Lucien pressed, 'What did he do to you? Did he take your mind and-'

'Enough,' Rhys said, angling his head with that casual grace. 'Feyre and I are busy. Go back to your lands before I send your heads as a reminder to my old friend about what happens when Spring Court flunkies set foot in my territory.'

The freezing rain slid down the neck of my clothes, down my back. Lucien's face was deathly pale. 'You made your point, Feyre- now come home.'

'I'm not a child playing games,' I said through my teeth. That's how they'd seen me: in need of coddling, explaining, defending...

'Careful, Lucien,' Rhysand drawled. 'Or Feyre darling will send you back in pieces, too.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“At last, Lucien looked at me. At us.

He said, 'There are children laughing in the streets.'

I blinked. He said it with such... quiet surprise. As if he hadn't heard the sound in a long, long time.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“I see you brought home a new pet,' she said, nose crinkling with distaste.

Something like fear had entered Lucien's eyes, as if he, too, beheld the monster that lurked beneath that beautiful face.


Indeed, it seemed he had heard of her already. Before I could introduce him, Lucien bowed at the waist. Deeply. Cassian let out an amused grunt, and I shot him a warning glare.

Amren smiled slightly. 'Already trained, I see.'

Lucien slowly straightened, as if he were standing before the open maw of some great plains-cat he did not wish to startle with sudden movements.

'Amren, this is Lucien... Vanserra.'

Lucien stiffened. 'I don't use my family's name.' He clarified to Amren with another incline of his head. 'Lucien will do.'

I suspected he'd ceased using that name the moment his lover's heart had stopped beating.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“It wasn't a formal dinner by any means- though Lucien, standing near the windows and watching the sun set over Velaris, was wearing a fine green jacket embroidered with gold, his cream-coloured pants showing off muscled thighs, and his knee-high black boots polished enough that the chandeliers of faelight reflected off them.

He'd always had a casual grace about him, but here, tonight, with his hair tied back and a jacket buttoned to his neck, he truly looked the part of a High Lord's son. Handsome, powerful, a bit rakish- but well-mannered and elegant.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“Lucien ran his one eye over me- my casual attire, then the Illyrians in their leathers, and Amren in her usual grey, and Mor in her flowing red gown, and said, 'What is the dress code?'

I shrugged, passing him the glass of wine I'd brought over. 'It's... whatever we feel like.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“You don't need to waste your time convincing me. I get it. I get... I get that we were not what you wanted. Or needed. How small and isolated our home must have been for you, once you saw this.' He jerked his chin toward the city, where lights were now sparking into view amid the falling twilight. 'Who could compare?'

I almost said, Don't you mean what could compare? but held my tongue.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“Lucien frowned at the remaining place setting at the head of the table, then at the blank, barren spot across from Nesta. 'I- shouldn't you sit at the head?'

Rhys raised an eyebrow. 'I don't care where you sit. I only care about eating something right'- he snapped his fingers- 'now.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“This eye,' Lucien gestured to the metal contraption. 'It can see things that others... can't. Spells, glamours... Perhaps it can help me find her. And break her curse.' He glanced at Elain, who was again studying her lap. 'I'm not needed here. I'll fight if you need me to, but...' He offered me a grim smile. 'I do not belong in the Autumn Court. And I'm willing to bet I'm no longer welcome at h- the Spring Court.' Home, he had almost said. 'But I cannot sit here and do nothing. Those queens with their armies- there is a threat in that regard, too. So use me. Send me. I will find Vassa, see if she can... bring help.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“By the Cauldron,' a familiar male voice said beside Cassian, and he turned to find Lucien in the archway to the training area. ... 'Feyre said she was training, but I hadn't realised she was... well, training.'
...
'Did you think she was filing her nails?'

Lucien's mechanical eye clicked. His face tightened as Nesta threw a spectacular left hook into the wood beam. It shuddered with the impact. 'I wonder if there are some things that should not be awoken,' he murmured.

Cassian cut him a glare. 'Mind your own business, fireling.'

Lucien just watched Nesta attack, his golden skin a little pale.

'Why are you here?' Cassian asked, unable to help the sharpness. 'Where's Elain?'

'I am not always in the city to see my mate.' The last two words dripped with discomfort. 'And I came up here because Feyre said I should. I need to kill a few hours before I'm to meet with her and Rhys. She thought I might enjoy seeing Nesta at work.'

'She's not a carnival attraction,' Cassian said through his teeth.

'It's not for entertainment.' Lucien's red hair gleamed in the dimness of the rainy day. 'I think Feyre wanted a progress assessment from someone who hasn't seen her in a while.

'And?' Cassian bit out.

Lucien threw him a withering look. 'I'm not your enemy, you know. You can drop the aggressive brute act.'

Cassian gave him a grin that didn't meet his eyes. 'Who says it's an act?'

Lucien let out a long sigh. 'Very well.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“How's the training?'

She gave him a smile- a true one. 'Good. We're learning how to disembowel a male.'

Lucien choked on his drink, nearly spewing it onto her head. Cassian appeared, a cup of tea steaming in his hands, and passed it to her before he declared proudly to Lucien, 'As you'd expect, Nes excels at it.'

Mor lifted her glass in a mockery of a toast. 'My favourite part of training.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“If I offer you the moon on a string, will you give me a kiss, too?" Lucien Vanserra”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses