Lucien stood at the window of the Empire's headquarters, a glass of bourbon in his hand as he watched the sun set over the sprawling city below. After a millennium of service, he still found amusement in how lesser vampires trembled at his presence - the fourth vampire ever created, turned by the King himself.
"My lord," a guard appeared at his door, tension evident in his voice. "The rebels-"
"Have finally made their move," Lucien finished, setting down his glass. He didn't need the guard's report to know what was happening. He could feel them - vampires, yes, but not alone. They had brought help.
The guard shifted nervously. "They've brought Djinn with them, my lord. The rebels think with their ancient magic-"
Lucien's laugh cut him off - a sound that carried a thousand years of dark amusement. "They think Djinn magic can challenge the King's authority? When even Satan himself failed?" He moved away from the window with fluid grace that spoke of power beyond normal vampire abilities.
Through the windows, he could see them approaching - two dozen vampires led by Marcus, a former noble who'd grown too ambitious, accompanied by three Djinn whose smokeless fire cast eerie shadows across the streets.
"Shall I call for reinforcements, my lord?"
"No need," Lucien smiled, straightening his cuffs in a gesture unconsciously mimicking his King. "I could use some entertainment while His Majesty is away."
He felt it then - that familiar surge of power in his blood, the echo of the mark that made him different from every other vampire save those also turned directly by Vali. His eyes turned grey-black - not bottomless like his King's, but carrying their own terrible promise.
"After all," he said softly as he headed for the entrance hall, "what better way to remind them why the King chose me as his Shadow?"
The entrance hall's marble floor reflected the approaching rebels' torchlight as Lucien descended the grand staircase. Marcus stood at the front, trying to project confidence, but Lucien could smell his fear.
"The great Lucien Castle," Marcus called out, his voice carrying false bravado. "Still playing lapdog to your King while he's away enjoying the fruits of your labor?"
The Djinn flanking him raised their hands, smokeless fire dancing between their fingers. Their ancient eyes glowed with power that would have made any normal vampire pause.
"You know," Lucien replied conversationally, reaching the bottom step, "in a thousand years of service, I've never understood why rebels always feel the need to monologue. Is it tradition? A requirement perhaps?"
Before Marcus could respond, Lucien moved. The mark's echo in his blood made him faster than any vampire had a right to be. His hand burst through the chest of the nearest Djinn before its fire could even form.
"Fascinating creatures, Djinn," he commented, examining the still-beating heart in his hand. "All that power, yet still so... fragile."
The remaining Djinn attacked simultaneously, their smokeless fire taking forms that shouldn't exist - serpents made of blue flame, birds of burning light. The vampire rebels surged forward, thinking numbers would overwhelm him.
Lucien smiled.
His blood sang as he moved through them like a dance. Where normal vampires had strength, he had artistry. Where they had speed, he had inevitability. Each movement was precisely calculated, each death a tribute to his King's teachings.
"You see," he lectured casually as he tore through the rebels, "the difference between you and me isn't just power." He caught a Djinn's fire blast with his bare hand, the mark's echo protecting him from its ancient magic. "It's understanding. You think being a vampire makes you mighty. I know it just makes you a better canvas."
Marcus watched in horror as Lucien systematically dismantled his forces. This wasn't just violence - it was performance, each death choreographed to send a message.
"Tell me, Marcus," Lucien called out as he casually backhanded the last Djinn through a marble pillar, "did you really think this would work? That you could take advantage of the King's decades long absence?"
His eyes gleamed with dark amusement as he advanced on the rebel leader. Around them, the entrance hall had become a gallery of precise violence - bodies arranged like artwork, each death positioned to tell a story.
"We... we have allies," Marcus stammered, backing away. "More powerful than Djinn. They promised-"
"Ah yes," Lucien interrupted, straightening his now-bloodied cuffs. "Let me guess - they promised you power? Position? Perhaps even suggested they could protect you from the King?" He laughed softly. "Tell me, do these allies know what happened to Satan when he made the same mistake?"
The mark's echo pulsed in his blood as he closed the distance between them, his movements carrying the same elegant menace he'd learned from a millennium at Vali's side.
"You don't understand," Marcus tried one last time, his back hitting a wall. "The Principal Guardians themselves have-"
"Now that," Lucien's smile showed too many teeth, "is interesting." His hand shot out, gripping Marcus's throat. "Do tell me more about these conversations with the Guardians. I'm sure my King would be fascinated to hear every detail."
The mark's echo allowed him to compel even ancient vampires, though not with the same absolute power as Vali. Still, it was more than enough for this.
"In fact," he continued, his eyes boring into Marcus's, "why don't you tell me everything? Every meeting, every promise, every whispered plan." His voice dropped lower. "After all, what better way to remind them why they should fear not just the King, but his Shadow as well?"
Marcus's - not knowing of Lucien's capability, not having ingested vervain - eyes glazed over as the compulsion took hold, and Lucien's smile grew sharper. This night had turned out to be far more productive than he'd expected.
Though as Marcus's compelled confessions spilled forth, Lucien's expression grew increasingly grave.
The Principal Guardians weren't just making vague promises - they were preparing something specific. Something that required immediate attention from higher authorities than himself.
With practiced efficiency, he secured Marcus in the building's specially warded cells, ensuring the rebel leader would be available for further questioning. Then he retreated to his private office, pulling out his phone.
Klaus would need to hear this personally.
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Hours later, Lucien's private jet cut through the night sky, his thoughts racing as fast as the aircraft arrived at a remote French airstrip .
While he had significant authority as the King's Shadow, his right hand, some decisions required the original family's direct input.
A dark-haired woman in her thirties waited by a sleek car, her posture too graceful for her seemingly ordinary appearance. Only Lucien's thousand years of service let him recognize Aurora inhabiting her latest Traveler vessel.
"Your new face suits you," he commented with his usual smirk. "Though I must say, I miss the red hair."
He had long since outgrown his infatuation with Aurora, which eventually led to him, Aurora and Niklaus becoming the best of friends.
Aurora - or rather, the body she currently possessed - rolled her eyes. "Please, as if you couldn't spot me in any form. Though I do agree about the hair." She touched her temporarily dark locks with slight disappointment. "But needs must when playing dead, yes?"
She led him to a modernized château, chattering about her and Klaus's latest adventures while maintaining their elaborate deception. "You should have seen Nik's face when this body's muscle memory kicked in during a dance. Apparently our current host was quite the ballerina."
"Speaking of our resident hybrid," Lucien glanced around the artfully decorated halls, "where is he hiding?"
"DAMN IT!" A crash echoed from upstairs, followed by creative cursing in several languages. Aurora sighed fondly.
"Still adjusting to his temporary vessel's hands," she explained. "This one's previous owner was right-handed. Nik's having... opinions about how that affects his painting."
They found Klaus in a paint-splattered studio, inhabiting the body of a man in his early forties. He was glaring at a canvas as if it had personally offended him.
"These fingers are wrong," he complained without turning around. "Too short. No proper grip strength. How am I supposed to capture the fundamental horror of existence with subpar appendages?"
"Yes, yes, your artistic suffering is noted," Aurora teased, moving to kiss his cheek. "But Lucien's here, darling. And judging by his expression, it's not for art criticism."
Klaus finally turned, and despite the unfamiliar face, his hybrid eyes gleamed with the same ancient intelligence. "Well then, old friend. What brings the King's Shadow to our little hideaway?"
Lucien's amusement faded. "The Principal Guardians are making moves. Big ones. They've been recruiting rebel factions, including Marcus's group."
"Of course they have," Klaus muttered, absently wiping paint on his borrowed body's already stained shirt. "Because apparently my brother's theatrical death and resurrection wasn't dramatic enough for them."
"It's more than that," Lucien continued grimly. "They're gathering artifacts - things that supposedly predate this world. Marcus's memories suggested something about 'rewriting fundamental laws.'"
"Wonderful," Aurora flopped onto a paint-splattered couch. "Because attempting to rewrite reality always works out so well for everyone involved. Just ask your brother's last few opponents. Oh wait..." she smiled sharply, "you can't. They don't exist anymore."
"Have you contacted him?" Klaus asked, already knowing the answer.
"Tried. Tatia said he's 'restructuring fundamental aspects of his new realm' and 'cannot be disturbed unless the world itself is actively unraveling.'" Lucien's impression of Tatia's voice was eerily accurate.
"Which it technically isn't. Yet." Aurora added helpfully.
Klaus ran his temporary hands through unfamiliar hair, leaving streaks of blue paint. "Right. So we gather intelligence. Aurora, love, see if Tristan's networks have picked up anything useful."
"And us?" Lucien asked, though his grin suggested he already knew.
Klaus's borrowed face split into a familiar predatory smile. "We're going to remind these Guardians why they stopped interfering in mortal affairs in the first place. Though..." he glanced down at his vessel's paint-covered hands with annoyance, "perhaps after I find a body with proper artistic coordination."
"Priorities, darling," Aurora laughed, rising gracefully despite her temporary form. "Priorities."
The studio fell silent save for Klaus's muttered complaints about his vessel's inadequate motor skills and Aurora's amused commentary on his artistic suffering.
Lucien watched them with fond exasperation. A millennium of service, and still his oldest friends could make even potential cosmic disaster feel like just another family drama.
The game was changing again, but at least it would be entertaining to watch unfold.
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(Author note: Hello everyone! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter!
Do tell how you found Lucien?
I don't know, personally I like him a lot, canon version and of course my own.
He is quite the interesting character.
So, we're soon gonna see Klaus Mikaelson in action after a thousand years have passed.
Also, yeah, people turned directly by Vali are quite overpowered compared to regular vampires, I believe this makes sense, since the Mark should make the dark magic - which vampirism is based off of - more potent in Vali's blood.
So yeah, I hope you all enjoyed, and I hope to see you all later,
Bye!)