#lucien vanserra and his close personal relationship with a sword

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Writing Excerpt From Today

(Did you know I also write fanfic in Sarah J. Maas’s ACOTAR universe? I am currently working on A Court of Exile and Reclamation, sequel to my previous completed longfic A Court of Lies and Resurrection. This is an excerpt from the chapter I am working on for ACOEAR)

Lucien stared around in surprise as they winnowed not into the Dawn Court itself, but somewhere else entirely.

It wasn’t Day Court, either - some space between places where the world had the hazy, pinkish light of a new sunrise on one side and the bright and shining blue sky of midday on the other, all of it ringed by a line of vibrant green trees that would put the Spring Court to shame.

They walked a path cut through the woods, a path that had no pebbles or sticks or sharp rocks to stumble on, only a perfect line of soft earth that gave, very slightly beneath Lucien’s boots. On either side the underbrush was a riot of wildflowers, morning glories with their petals open to chase the dawn side of the sunlight, small bushes with tiny sprays of white flowers like a dusting of snow.

The trees did not loom or lean over, as they did in certain parts of Spring where the darker things lived. This place was safe, or at least as safe as any fae land could be. Lucien could feel the weight of combined High Lord influences everywhere around him, of Thesan and Helion’s powers intertwined in this place.

This is suspiciously pretty, Ayla sang darkly at his hip. Something’s going to fall on your head, I just know it.

“Hush,” Lucien muttered down to her, then raised his head to look at Helion’s back. “How much further?” He asked, a little uncertainly. There was no way to see - the path twisted and wound through the woods, and while Helion seemed to know exactly where he was going, Lucien had been hopelessly lost within minutes. 

“Not much. Don’t leave the path or it will no longer recognize you,” Helion said cheerfully. “You don’t want that. Trust me. This might look nice but Thesan and I made some… somewhat shady deals with the creatures that own these woods to get their agreement to never touch anyone who doesn’t step off the path. Take three steps and you’re theirs, and they are not the type to kill quickly.”

With a soft happy humming song, Helion held out one finger and a bluebird briefly settled there, then flew away. 

“Wh… what type are they?” Lucien asked, staring in disbelief. 

“The last fae who did not heed my warning took six years to die,” Helion said brightly, picking a thin twiglike branch with a few green leaves off a tree, using magic to twist it into a crown that he put onto his own head.

Told you it was suspicious, Ayla sang at Lucien’s side, low menacing slightly sharp notes in his mind.

“Doesn’t matter, we can take whatever’s out there,” Lucien said softly, pitching his voice as low as he could, although it wasn’t like his sword having a sentience all its own was an unknown quantity to someone like Helion.

Or Prythian in general, since Lucien was fairly sure Lucien Vanserra’s in love with a sword was a common topic of Prythian gossip in every court in the land now.

Damn right we can, my love, Ayla trilled, song brightening immediately, and he felt himself relax at the simple certainty that no matter what happened, she was with him until his death. She’d been bound to him permanently from the moment he first fed her with blood, and had pledged himself when the mortal vengeance god that had somehow birthed Ayla into the worlds had looked him in the eyes.

Will you carry my Ayla forever?

Yes. I have my unsettlingly devoted murder-sword to the end.

The sword sang again in contentment, and he thought she must have felt some hint of his thoughts. He tightened his grip on the hilt and felt the presence that lived eternally in the back of his mind settle into quiet happiness at his touch.

Helion stepped easily ahead of him, with the comfortable leonine confidence that Lucien knew, even if this new version of the High Lord of Day - simply being kind and welcoming and not flirtatious, a Helion that was perhaps, maybe, if he could bring himself to let the knowledge sink in, his father - was nearly unrecognizable to him.

Lucien found himself suddenly so, so glad he had turned down every single offer the High Lord of Day had ever made.

Neither of them had known, then - Lucien looked like his mother, just like Eris did, there was never any good way anyone could have told the difference in parentage between them beyond maybe Lucien’s skin having a darker shade and a difference to the texture of his hair - but still he could feel the flip in his stomach at the idea that he had been fielding propositions from his father this whole time.

He’d been at the mercy of Beron his entire life, and Lucien had been hit by what felt like a wall of realization that he didn’t have to be. All the cruelty, all the anger, all the injuries inflicted on a helpless child had all been unnecessary.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

"It's not always a sword."