#Beron is the oldest of them too

[the-darkestminds]

One thing that’s always bothered me is how Feyre was able to put Beron on his ass at the meeting of the High Lords. It makes zero sense for her to be more powerful than him. She is newly fae and only has a drop of power from each of them, and yet it reads like she has the full arsenal of all the High Lords’ powers. If it was truly just a drop of power given, shouldn’t that be reflected in how she’s able to wield it?

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

My tears ricochet

Next chapter

summary: There are thunder clouds in the horizon that threaten Eris’s chance of being a high lord. Rhys strikes a deal. The only thing left to find out now is who gets out of this deal alive?

warning: death, blood, enemies to lovers, fighting, forced arrangements, talk of marriage of convenience.

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Things were changing in Prythian. With the length of fea lives, high lords didn’t change often. But when the shift did happen, it was as if someone were to open a beast's belly, and suddenly everyone was on the fence; the territory was for grabs, and others could gain something from the new weaker high lord until the power fully settled in him.

“I’ll need you with me tonight," Rhys said, slowly swirling his drink in the glass. The tension could be felt in all the courts, but Rhys had been deep in his thoughts ever since the news about the new high lord had circled. “You’re in a mood to kill the new high lord of autumn already?", you mussed, making Cassian let out a snort. You had lost the number of meetings that had been held in the past week alone. And while you didn’t like Eris, a small part of you couldn’t help but feel sympathy for him. On one hand, this, no doubt, had to be a relief. To know that the world was no longer tarnished by Beron. But the responsibility was still hard to carry all alone.

“A diplomatic meeting," Rhys clarified, making you roll your eyes, “That can be changed real quick with a dagger." But you could see the plea in his eyes. And something else. An emotion you couldn’t quite grasp. It had been there for a couple of days now. It was hazy at first, while Rhys was still contemplating it all in his head. Now, however, it was set and done, leaving a trail of unease in your gut when you caught a glimpse of it.

“I need you." You were not sure what exactly those words implied. Knowing how fond you and Eris were of one another, it was as if Rhys had planned a civil war to break out in the autumn. Unless he needed Eris to decline whatever offer Rhys was going to propose, and you were just the thing for that, “Fine, I’ll be there," you huffed, bringing the glass to your lips. Even if you knew that not even booze could make a meeting like that bearable, "I can't wait to see Eris’s face when you walk in." Azriel’s low voice filled the room, followed by Cassian’s chuckle. “You enjoy his misery way too much, Az," you said, shaking your head with a smile. “What can I say? I’m a simple man," the spymaster smiled before downing his drink.

Eris had been dreaming of this day since the moment he realized that this brutality would only end when Beron was six feet, make it ten so the bastard wouldn’t have a chance of crowning out, below. One thing he didn’t take into consideration was that the new power would rip at him from within. Leaving him quite shaky and restless. Not to mention that he didn’t have anyone to guard his back. His younger brothers were all corrupted by his father to be of any help at all.

“Apologies for your loss once again," Beron’s right-hand man clapped Eris’s shoulder. "The council will miss Beron’s presence," the other added sympathetically. No doubt, Eris thought. All the males in this room had been fed like pigs out of the same hod for decades. And Beron fed them well with promises that were never truly delivered. “But we do not doubt you, Eris," and here was the silent warning that they expected the same treatment from the oldest Vanserra. No doubt already able to sniff out Eris’s plans on wiping the council out. “Yet we are here to guide you if..." “If that’s all, I would like to end the meeting," Eris said, raising his hand. The yapping of these old men had drilled the last bit of sanity out of him today. With a flow of “Of course, of course," and “our apologies for holding you up," Eris watched them pick up their scrolls as they hurried out of the room.

The moment the door closed, Eris let out a deep sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. Exhausted. He was just so exhausted. If only he could sleep at night. To just… “You looked like a fox kicked by a hunter," Eris opened his eyes to the sound of a familiar voice. "Lucien, my patience is running low tonight." It came out harsher than Eris intended. He was glad that Lucien had agreed to listen in on the meetings in general. He didn’t have to. But Eris had no one to turn to. “This wasn’t that bad of a meeting," the youngest Vanserra said, pulling out a chair for himself. The meeting had barely touched on serious topics. Council had tried to swing the chatter to that, but Eris had fully focused on the food supplies and growing stock.

"Would be better if you came back to stand by my side fully," Eris pressed once more. While a part of him understood Lucien's choice, another was bitter that every offer had been declined. “You know I have duties elsewhere," Lucien replied like he had ever since Beron died. “This is home," Eris pointed out, fingers drumming against the table. Their eyes met, and Eris knew Lucien’s next words before they had even touched his lips. “This was never my home," he stated with a shake of his head.

Eris knew that, it clawed at him that Lucien had been out there, going from court to court. At the time, it felt like the best choice. To take him away from all of this. To make sure that no hits, whether physical or emotional, were ever directed at him.

“How’s mother?", Lucien cut the silence upon the two brothers. "She would have happily danced on his grave if she had a chance," Eris mussed. Both brothers couldn’t help but smile. It was crazy to think that she was finally free. No more playing pretend. Their mother was finally a free woman who could do anything she wanted. And even if it hurt to admit it, Eris knew that she too wouldn’t stay back home with him. Her heart had been elsewhere for decades already.

“Why are you still here, Lucien?" Even if Eris loved having Lucien back, he knew too well that he didn’t just linger to be there. There had to be a reason. “Can’t I come over to spend quality time?" Lucien smirked right as Eris cut him off mid-sentence, “Cut the bullshit." And here they were, back at square one. With all the real emotion swept beneath the masks they have been wearing, “Rhys wants to meet with you tonight." Eris let out a deep sigh at Lucien's words. He just didn’t have it in him to go through one more toying session today. “He has valid suggestions," Lucien reassured his older brother. “He can shove them right up his ass," Eris pushed back his chair, turning to pour himself another drink. “Eris, hear him out. You need allies now; you need recognition," there was truth in Lucien’s words. Even if the times were changing, some old rules still applied, even if Eris didn’t plan to rule by the textbook his father had created. But there were still things he couldn’t escape. “I’ve already made a name for myself, Lucien; they know what to expect," Eris stated bitterly. Not daring to look back. Not daring to meet his brother’s eyes.

Swallowed by the never-ending piles of work, Eris had lost track of time. Only the footsteps that sounded down the hall made him halt as he lifted his head. Listening. “Of fucking hell," Eris muttered. All the fibers in his body twisted. Because he knew. Knew without seeing. Knew it deep within his gut. "Joy and cheer!", your voice echoed as you opened the door to Eris’s study. The devilish grin shone across your face. "Hello, kitten," you mussed up at him. Cassian was grinning, barely holding back a laugh. Even Azriel ran a hand over his mouth to hide his smile. Eris slowly gazed up at Rhys, “I would have offered you to sit, but since you brought that malice with you..." his eyes darted back at you. Looking you up and down in that profound, unimpressed expression of his. Even if deep blue had always been your color. No one wore it better than you did in Eris’s eyes.

“Oh, because you’re such a cuddly bun," you purred, crossing your arms over your chest. "Y/n," Rhys stated firmly, glaring your way. You let out a huff, “Not my problem; he has his nickers in a twist." You pointed at Eris, who pinched the bridge of his nose, “Lord forbid... I have no time for this. You know where to find the exit." Motioning with his hand, the oldest Vanserra gestured to the door. Already turning away to leave.

"Eris, at least let me make a proposition," Rhys insisted, stepping forward before glancing back at you, “And you sit." The order was degrading, at least. Like a youngster being scolded. "I'm not your lap dog," you grumbled, eyebrows knitted. “You sure look like one," Eris muttered under his breath, making you gasp.

You were about to give him a piece of your mind when Rhys cut in, “There’s unease among the high lords." Eris blinked a couple of times. The low lights were doing no favors for his already paler skin. "Rhys, you either tell me something I don’t know or you leave," the high lord sighed with tiredness. He had heard it all before. And one more conversation about this might end up being the reason why Eris was going to drop dead himself. Rhys stood silent for a moment before uttering, “They want to make a vote; they deem you not fit to rule until they know how Beron died."

And for the first time that night, Eris’s eyes were truly forced on Rhys. A new layer of tension lined his shoulders. “What?" he muttered beneath his breath. “They are planning to hold a meeting without you." Now those words cut Eris deep. That same wound Beron cut open over and over again. You’ll never be good enough. Do you think you could ever sit among them? With me gone, you will be nothing in their eyes. “That’s nonsense; I have a right to be informed about this." Eris gripped the edge of the table. A flame of anger rekindled deep within.

“You need alliances and show them that you have it under control," Rhys pointed out, no doubt having gone through all of that himself. In some ways, “I do have it under control," Eris snarled bitterly. “Well, reports say otherwise," Rhys noted, pointing at the reports in his hand. Eris’s eyes skim over the text with urgency. “Look… I’m offering you help”. Rhys's voice died down.

That same sense of chill ran down your back. It was as if something from deep within was warning you that this was way more serious than you had thought. Eris shook his head as he read. Almost all of the high lords were in on it. There were no direct threats there, but the implications were obvious.

“Marry Y/N," and the room died down for a moment. The silence was so intense that the ringing in your ears nearly made you hold onto your head. “What?”, You both breathed in unison before your eyes fell upon one another. One heartbeat. Two. “Hell no", “Over my dead body," both of your declines fell one after the other.

"Eris, you know how the council runs and how they are about the business. You need to make public appearances. You need someone by your side," and Rhys had a point. If most courts had moved on from council power, Beron had held onto them for dear life. They fed his power. Stopped the fires of rebellion for him. And now their way was Eris’s people's way. “I sure as hell don’t need that leech," Eris said in frustration. “Hey, word choice," Azriel pointed a finger his way, making the frown on Eris’s face even deeper. “I’m not marrying that monster," you hissed.

“I would once again suggest you look at yourself," Eris grumbled back, running his hand over his face. But you were done with him. He could go to hell the way he was standing now. It’s your brother who met your angered face. “Why was I not informed about this? What right do you have to even suggest this?" You stepped closer to him, your hands reaching for his shirt. “It’s a marriage of convenience," Rhys said again, trying to kill the frustration his suggestion had caused, “You play by the rules; secure the spot for Eris among that table, and then we’ll find a way to split you apart. My word will be worth more if you’re courting my sister."

No, this couldn’t be happening. Gone were the times when women were traded like pigs. This was a joke. A nightmare. You pinched your hand once, twice. Nothing. It didn’t all fade away. “No, absolutely, no," you breathed, your hand falling on your chest. This was not the life you had dreamed of. Not how it was supposed to go.

“What’s the catch here, Rhys?" Eris breathed. Was he even considering this? Surely he wasn’t. “He left Mor by the fucking border! Do you want me in ribbons by your door?", you pulled at Rhys’s black shirt, practically hissing through your clenched teeth. “I wouldn’t dirty my hands with you that much," Eris’s voice killed your huffs as you turned back at him.

"Asshole," you spat his way. “Whiny little girl," Eris huffed back, crossing his arms over his chest. “I fucking hate you," you shrieked in frustration, pulling at the roots of your hair as the situation slowly sank in. “Oh, you hate me? Do you want to know how I feel?" Eris laughed bitterly, his eyes not leaving you, “If you were my wife, I would put poison in your morning tea." His cold words sliced through you. You let out a bitter chuckle. Taking a breath to compose yourself. A shaky hand running down the skirt of your dress to smooth the material. “Ah, well, if you were my husband, I would happily drink it." Your words lingered in the air,and you could see it even if it was just a flash. A blink. That second of shock that flashed through Eris’s eyes.

With a quick step forward, you pushed at his chest, "Never do you hear me?" You hissed one more time, “Will never happen." His hand caught your wrist with a swift motion as he pulled you closer to him. Your chest firmly pressed against his as he muttered right against your face. “You’re screaming at me as if it’s my idea," Eris huffed, dropping your hand.

You blinked, turning back to your older brother. Who swore to protect you. To always look out for you. “You’re a shit brother, Rhys," you stated. Finding it so utterly hard to even look at him now. All this time. He could have warned you. Said something. Asked. But no. “I’m trying to stop another war from happening," he stated as if this were a simple transaction, not a life-altering decision. “By sacrificing me?" You hit your chest in frustration. Your youthful years would spent slaving in another country, and for what?

“Don’t be so dramatic," Eris huffed, making you let out a frustrated whimper, "Oh, my apologies for not seeing any gain in this for me." Rhys took a deep breath. “The court wants a married man with a powerful woman by his side." Here it was his lord's voice. Not your brother. He stepped closer to you, trying to reach for your hands, but you backed away instantly. “This is more about you than anyone else," he tried to reason. So you were to be a play toy. A figurine in someone else’s game. “Just unbelievable," you said, shaking your head and stepping back. Your leg hit the cabinet, sending a couple of bottles tumbling down. Rhys called your name once more, but you didn’t. Couldn't be here any longer as you bolted towards the door.

"Y/n," Rhys called out in warning, moving towards the exit as well. “Don’t you dare follow her; you’ve done enough damage for the night," Eris’s cold voice made the Lord of the Night halt. And for the first time that night, the uncaring mask on Rhys’s face slipped: “Don’t lecture me when I’m trying to help," venomous frustration seeping through, “I’m landing you my biggest asset. She’s my only blood family." Eris couldn’t help the smile that crept over his face, “If you loved her so much, you wouldn’t toy with her like that”. Rhys’s jaw twitched.

"Careful," Azriel reasoned for the second time that night. Eris had forgotten that the two of them were even there. “Stop barking from the back rows," he hissed at the two batboys. Cassian quickly placed his hand on Azriel’s chest, stopping him in his tracks. Eris shook his head, “You miscalculated, Rhys; admit it." Turning back to reach for the bottle of brandy, Eris took a swig straight out of the bottle. “You’d gain power out of this. But your precious demon of a sister will never forgive you for this." That struck a nerve deep within Rhys. And suddenly, the suggestion itself felt ingenious. So there was a catch after all, huh? “A day," Rhys said firmly, “I’m giving you a day to think this through; then my offer is off the table." Like that. He was dismissed as if he too wasn’t a high lord now. As if Eris wasn’t in an equal position to demand. Eris leaned forward,“You were never the one offering, Rhys; it was never your call to make."

[readychilledwine]

Kissed by Fire pt 2

Summary - Amelia Archeron, the oldest of the made sisters, sacrificed more than her sisters would ever understand, and more than she would ever allow them to know. Now, they want her to sacrifice her one chance at happiness, too.

Warnings - talks of sex work, beron, implied abuse, Lucien getting to be the smartest, person in a room.

Series Masterlist Eris Masterlist Master Masterlist

Eris sat at a silent family breakfast. Per tradition, no one spoke. No one had spoken at breakfast since Lucien's exile.

Beron no longer allowed casual conversation between his sons. No discussion of how their days were laid out, of who was covering which territory for the day, of how they slept.

Beron no longer allowed brotherhood. At least, not in front of him.

The note casually passed under the table started at their mother. He soft elegant script gracing the page. It had gone to the now youngest Hermes, his red hair was shaved on the right side with an intricate pattern and then curled on the top. He showed no reaction on his face before waiting for the next opportunity of Beron Speaking down to a servant over the quality of something she had no control over to pass it to Ares. The smug idiot also controlled his face as he continued eating and scratched his facial stubble that he had allowed to grow for much too long. He then waited for Beron to look away, passing the note to the second oldest whom Eris immediately shot a look. Apollo had always been the diplomatic one, the scholar interested in music and arts much more than any throne. He played his part well, but the male was easy to read. He kept his face cold and indifferent, waiting for the chance to pass the note To Eris.

Eris was the riskiest pass. He was constantly sitting at his father's right hand. A testament to his efforts and the cruelty he'd inflicted for the sake of his mother, his brothers, himself.

Lunch and tea at noon? Your father is going to the Winter Borders Today.

It wasn't even a question in Eris's mind. His mother could ask him to carve his own heart out and he would say yes.

Walking alongside Beron was something Eris longed to end. He always felt an almost slime growing on him when he had to. He listened carefully as Beron's spymaster, an undereducated ruddy looking male who hardly could gather anything worth knowing, handed him a folder.

“Rumor has it the King of Hybern got a hold of the 3 older Archeron sisters and threw them in the Cauldron,” he paused as Beron did. A look of disbelief flashes in his father's eyes as he opens the Report. “All three of them emerged fae.”

“And where did this rumor come from?”

The male looked at Beron, a small smirk forming, “Ianthe. She's currently in Spring with the curse breaker. Tamlin and the boy witnessed the whole thing.” The simple mention of Lucien had Eris looking up. “One of the sisters is evidently his mate.”

Chill set over Eris at that thought. It settled when he looked at his father's face. In place of the normally stone cold mask was a smile, not one of joy or happiness. One that promised if he ever got his hands on that poor girl, she would suffer, just so Lucien did. Just so his mother did. “Find out if this is accurate and let Eris know as soon as possible. Then find out which sister.” Beron slapped the report on Eris's chest. “Ensure your mother does not learn of this until it is convenient for me.”

Eris went to the tearoom his mother and brothers sat in, stress lining his every muscle like a heavy coat as he did. “I have news,” he watched as they all sighed heavily. “Lucien has a mate,” he threw the papers down. “I am guessing these three are why Azriel came to me a few weeks ago.”

Andromeda held the papers tight, reading each line over and over. “This changes things,” her voice was soft, breaking slightly at what this could mean. “You four need to be ready.”

Hermes leaned back, nodding as he did.

Ares took the reports next, Studying them hard. “You said the shadowsinger made you a deal right? Can you use it to force Rhysand into a bargain?”

Apollo sighed heavily, having dealt with Rhysand the most in the 50 years they were all trapped together. “Rhysand isn't going to bargain for his assistance unless his family is at risk. That's his sole motivation in his world. Not his court. Not himself. His family.”

“We need more,” Eris concluded. “Helion might not be enough. Tamlin is an unstable support. Kal is unknown. Thesan is going to hand his support on a platter just because he hates Beron. Rhysand-”

“Has no hound in the race,” his mother finished with a distant look over her shoulder towards the window. Towards the sunlight she could never fully bathe herself in. “Find one.”

Amelia hated Rhysand. She leaned across a table from him, blinking at him like he was an absolute idiot. “If I could access it, I could learn to control it, Rhysand.”

The High Lord sighed. “And when you open a gate to Mother knows where, Welcoming Mother knows what into my court and home, what then Amelia?”

It had taken Amren the better part of three weeks. Three long weeks Amelia had spent on constant faebane.

She hardly ate anymore, not that she really was before.

All glow and color had left her skin, leaving her pale and lifeless.

Her eyes constantly held dark circles from dreamless sleep.

Rhysand saw the parallel. He was not foolish or blind. It ate at him, nagging loudly in the back of his mind and pounding over and over again whenever he'd shut his eyes.

He kept lying to himself, pretending it was for Amelia's own good.

There had not been a worldwalker since Amren first appeared. And even those thousands of years ago, the walkers were rumors. Ghosts in the wind passed down by busy body gossips who believe they possibly saw a gate open and close.

“And what will you do if I just refuse to take it?”

Rhys looked up at Amelia, a sympathetic glaze to his eyes as he began to hold her mind and force her to drink the tainted wine. “It wouldn't matter,” his voice was flat. “I am sorry Amelia, but until we find out more, this is what I have to do to keep you safe.”

“Safe,” she whispered the word back like it was poisoned. “You all promised us that word before and failed,” she stood ignoring the look of pain that flashed on his face, on Cassian's, on Azriel's. “Hopefully you fail this time too.” She left the room, slamming the door so hard the frames shook.

Amelia walked down the hall, shutting her door Behind her and curled into her blanket, smiling at the familiar scent that screamed Autumn.

Amelia pulled out the map of Pryithian She had ripped out of a book. Studying it hard one more time.

She'd make it out of this damned court.

Even if she had to burn it to the ground to do so.

Lucien read the note over and over again. It had come to him through the hearth. It smelled of roasted chestnuts and a crackling fire.

He wished he could bask in it. He wished he could bottle up the scent and bathe in it, take comfort in it during nights when his dreams plagued him.

The sense of security the scent brought him was almost mocking as he read his mother's handwriting over and over.

“Beron knows. He knows about your mate. Hide her. Run away with her.”

Lucien sat on his bed, sending a silent prayer to the Cauldron. He had planned on running with Feyre anyways. He had been trying to find a way out for them for a week now, but the damn twins went everywhere with them.

Lucien hid the note as his door opened without a knock, “What do you want, Ianthe?”

“There's something in the forest. Tamlin told me to take you to look at it.”

Several days had passed since Amelia and Rhys fought. They had only spoken in passing, the female holding her head high and refusing to apologize. The high lord returned the sentiment. He had started having to have Azriel or Cassian watch her drink the tea, or else she would dump it according to the twins.

She had lost weight. Way too much weight. Her and Elain were walking skeletons. Rhys entered Amelia's room, heart falling at the sight of each bone visible in her back. “Feyre has escaped Spring. Lucien is coming with her.”

Amelia nodded. “Elain's mate. How does your dear Shadowsinger feel about that?”

Her bored tone had Rhys immediately irritated. “Do you not care that your youngest sister is currently on the run?”

She raised a brow, crossing her arms over the sweater that was now much too large for her. “I trust Feyre's abilities to get herself out of anything she walks into. I've had no choice but to do that for years,” she moved towards the window. “You do not know everything, Rhysand, you do not know the extent of my care nor the sacrifice I made.”

He sat in the chair he always took, “Because you refuse to tell me, Amelia. You refuse to tell me what oh so wonderful sacrifice you made while your younger sisters were cold and starving.”

Her mind flashed to that cabin, chopping wood for hours straight, stacking it nicely. To prepare them breakfast and leaving it to warm over a fire. Just for her to leave the house without eating and head to the pleasure house.

She'd leave before they woke, and return long after they slept.

Each night she'd hide money in Feyre's bags. Enough to get them food for the next week, if her younger Sister didn't decide to treat herself to unnecessary paints and brushes, then tuck the rest into another bag.

A bag she hoped to eventually gain enough gold stashed inside of to buy them a home.

One that wasn't one windstorm from falling apart.

“How long did you work there,” his voice broke. “How little were you paid to lay there.”

Amelia's father had lost and gambled away their wealth when Amelia was 15. “The second father was hunted down, so I went there. I was 15. I worked there long after that raging fluff ball decided we were his charity case. That's how Jurian found me. He bought me for the night using enough money that they'd turn a blind eye to whatever he wanted to do to me. The house took 90% of my Earnings. 20% would go towards paying off my debt to them so I could be free. They pocketed the rest. I'd take home a measly 10%.”

She could see the disgust washing over him. “How much was an hour with you?”

She shrugged, "Depended on what he wanted to do. I had a male pay 30 gold to beat me once. I had a male pay 50 to do things I never want to speak about again.”

Rhys nodded. “Why don't they know?”

“Because High Lord, nothing says hold on to your hopes like finding out your sister fucks for coin.”

She watched Rhysand get a distant look in his eyes, “I have to go. She's here.” Amelia nodded. “I will give her your love, even if you won't ask me to.”

She paused, looking at him in shock. He moved to her, kissing her temple softly. “No one will ever touch you without your consent again. I promise. Just give me time for the rest. We are still searching.”

Something soft was in his eyes. Something akin to care. To love.

It made Amelia feel bile set in her stomach followed by guilt.

Despite her anger and insults, he was trying.

And maybe, she should try too.

Lucien sat on the couch across from the oldest Archeron sister. He was trying to process her outfit. “Where did you get that sweater?” His brother's sweater, Lucien didn't say the words after a look from Azriel and Cassian told him not to.

“Az brought it to me,” Lucien hummed at her response.

They were studying each other. Trying to figure out each other's ticks like it was their passion project in court training. “Why do you smell like faebane?”

She countered immediately, “Why do YOU smell like faebane?”

“Poisoned by the same whore of a priestess who sold you out,” Lucien leaned back, raising and nodding for her explanation.

“Being forced to take it because that whore of a priestess had me thrown into an oversized Cauldron and it did something to me.”

“Enough,” Azriel said softly. “This conversation is done.”

“What do you mean?” Lucien pushed despite the warning.

“I can see strings,” Amelia said softly. “They're all different. Different colors, smells, materials. Some sparkle like what they're connected to is active and alive. Some are duller like light can't fully reach the end I can see.”

Lucien felt his face dropping, unable to school a reaction due to his exhaustion. “And these strings, when you touch them, can you hear anything? See anything?”

She nodded. “Between teas when they come back, I can reach them. One was dark, cold, when I touched it I heard a woman's voice. It sounded like someone was singing a dark song as she spoke in a language I didn't understand. Another time there was a string that almost seemed to glow. I could hear laughter, strange music, another language I didn't know.”

The three males shared a look. This was more information than they had gotten from her in a month, "Amelia, the night you followed me, did you pull one of the strings?”

She looked to Azriel, blue eyes sad. “In my sleep, yes. It smelled like fire and apples,” Lucien's stomach fell. “I was drawn to whoever you were speaking with. Like their voice was enough to keep me warm. Like they'd be enough to keep me safe.”

Azriel felt his face pale when she turned away and stood to leave the room.

“I think I already know the answer, but who were you with?”

Cassian sighed, sitting down. “He went to Eris. To get that sweater and a blanket in hopes he would enchant them. Amelia can't hold warmth since the Cauldron.”

“Has she met him?” They shook their heads. “I'd keep her away from him.” Azriel knew what Lucien was suggesting and voiced soft agreement. “Beron can't get his hands on a Realm Walker. It'd be too dangerous for every court and world she got him to.”

Lucien sipped the tea he had staring at the fire. "You should also check resources from Vallahan instead of here. The last recorded Realm Walker was born and trained there. Helion would be able to get his hands on some of their notes."

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes

Kissed by Fire Taglist:

@justdreamstars @coralseacourt @kemillyfreitas @impossibelle @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @believinghurts

[scorpioriesling]

Dream Come True

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Lucien x reader

Warnings: light swearing

Summary: When Elain rejects the mating bond, the High Lord of Autumn spares no sympathy for his youngest son (well… you know. Anyways.) Hosting a ball with all the most eligible maidens in the court, you are of course eligible and happy to attend, wishing from afar for so many years — but, you decide to take a different approach to hopefully win his heart.

SR’s Note: *sigh* this is my current favorite art for my favorite fox boy… did I stare at it for way too long? Maybe. Anyways, here’s the fic. Enjoy! xoxo

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Honestly, you couldn't understand what the fuck was wrong with the Archeron girl.

First of all, she was blessed enough to look the way she did -- not that you wanted to look just like her, you would thank the Mother every day and night for blessing you with such lovely parents of your own who'd only pass on their best genes to you. But, she didn't have to try so damn hard to catch the eye of every male in Prythian, just with the swoosh of her skirt or the toss of her hair over her shoulder.

It sure caught the eye of the youngest Vanserra.

Her mate.

Don't even begin with her newfound Cauldron-blessed gift, either. It seemed like everywhere she went, all that was talked about was, "Ooh! Elain, the seer" or "have you been seeing anything new?" blah blah blah, I mean really -- how much longer will we hyperfixate on this? On her? Long gone was talk of her younger sister, the one who literally saved the land from Hybern's hand. You wondered if she ever grew as tired of her sister's attention as you did, not that you knew the Cursebreaker personally.

However, none of it mattered the 28th night of September. You'd been working that evening in the Autumn Palace, completing the tasks assigned as the Lady of Autumn's first assistant when you heard probably the best rumors to ever grace your ears. Beron had been passing you in the hall with his oldest son Eris, and you spared both of them a nod as they passed. Eris returned the small smile, having known you for years, but you didn't expect much from his father, knowing how cruel he was even with his own wife. You also didn't expect to hear the conversation they were having, but you slowed your pace as they continued in the opposite direction down the corridor from you.

"The girl said she wanted the bond broken," Beron muttered in a menacing tone. Eris sighed, and your breath hitched.

"What do you think Lucien-" Eris started.

"I'm not asking Lucien what he thinks. We won't deal with some ignorant wench who doesn't know what she wants. I'm not surprised she doesn't want to deal with him, but I won't deal with the scandal of him going unmated..." Beron's cruel tone fades as the pair rounds the corner of the corridor, and you brace yourself on one of the credenzas along the wall for a moment. Elain wants to break the bond? There's no way. You look up, eyes catching on your reflection in the dimly lit mirror hung on the wall. Was she really so unhappy that she would ask to break something so sacred, with someone as special as Lucien?

You took a steadying breath, forcing your feet to keep carrying you and your completed task sheet to the Lady of Autumn's office. You could barely focus; what was Lucien going to do? How was he feeling? You remembered all of the times you'd stolen glances at him, all the memories of hearing his warm but rare laugher through these very halls with his brothers over the years. He wasn't around as much anymore, but that didn't stop the desire that still warmed your heart at the thought of him.

"Thank you for your assistance, Y/N," the Lady of Autumn's voice was a warm caress as you laid down the task sheet upon her desk. "You're free to go for the evening."

With a nod you made for the door, but instead of heading for the front of the palace, you made way for the back stairwell, one that led to the private bedrooms. You knew your way around this place as you'd worked here for years, becoming rather close with the family and the boys that lived here. You counted the doors: one, two, three on the right side, and gave the third door a soft knock. Within moments, it was unlatched and a familiar pair of mahogany eyes met yours.

"Oh... hello, Y/N," Eris steps back, allowing you into his room before his father caught on somehow that you were still here. You silently slipped inside, as you'd done so many times before and taken a seat on the edge of his mattress. He perched near the top by his pillows, and offerred a quizzical look. "What brings you-"

"I need to know. I need to know about Lucien." You cut in. Eris' face immediately softened in realization. You'd been in this position many a time, coming to Eris with your concerns about his brother and him confiding his own feelings in you. This is what drew the two of you so close and provided a friendship so precious you knew you had to keep secret, as Beron was unpredictable and could use it as a weapon in a time of his own need.

"Elain... she asked Helion today to break their bond. He told my father right after she'd requested it." His hand found yours, and you loosed a breath. Your heart constricted, only imagining what Lucien must be going through right now.

"And... and Lucien? Was he-" Eris only shakes his head. Your sadness turns to anger, and you yank your hand back. You rise from the bed, beginning to pace back and forth in his room as traitorous thoughts cloud your mind.

"So, he wasn't even there? He doesn't even know?" You say, voice rising in octave. Eris leans forward, pressing a forefinger to his lips and shushing you.

"Shhhh, he likely knows by now," he says soothingly. But it doesn't matter. You feel as though your rage is bubbling over like the milky substance of the Caldron.

"Yeah. You're right, he probably knows -- I'm sure it probably hurts pretty fuckin' bad when a cord inside of you just... just..." You're throwing your hands in the air, fists clenched and shaking. "...breaks right in half out of nowhere-" Eris is instantly on his feet, taking both of your wrists in his, eyes searching yours in all seriousness.

"Y/N." He says solemnly. "You have to calm down. Someone is going to hear you, okay?" He says calmly. Your breath is heavy, chest rising and falling rapidly as his hands still grip your wrists mid-air. He lets go, moving one hand to brush the stray hairs sticking to your face behind your ear, clinging to your forehead with the sweat you've worked up. "Just, take a deep breath, okay? I'm not too keen on it either, but this isn't my situation to have an opinion on, alright? We have to try and remember that."

You take his words into consideration, wiping your perspirating hands on your smock and breathing deeply. He takes a step back from you, allowing you your space and returning to sit on the bed. You follow, rubbing your hands over your face in defeat.

"My father doesn't want this to be a big thing," he continues, and you move your hands to look at him. He peers at the patch of bedsheets between the two of you, appearing to zone out as he continues. "He thinks if he finds someone else for Lucien quickly, the whole bond "thing" won't cause too much talk and Lu will be able to get over it faster or something." You roll your eyes, scoffing.

"That's the most rediculous thing I've ever heard." You say.

"I know." He replies. You shake your head, biting your bottom lip.

"What's he planning to do? Line someone up for Lucien to wed instead?" You ask. You really don't want to know the answer -- hearing he had a mate was already heart-wrenching enough, now hearing he would be betrothed to another would be even worse.

"He's planning to have a courting ceremony in two days, in the palace," he says. You perk up.

"Oh?"

"Mhm," he continues, eyes sliding to yours with a mischevious grin. "Now, don't get your hopes up, but he's only inviting the most eligible maidens and High Fae to attend, but anyone in attendance would technically have the right to Lucien's hand, if he accepts it. I've known a sly fox like you long enough that-"

"You know I'll find a way in." You finish. He chuckles.

"You also have to get him to say yes." You heart sinks a little. With Eris, its always been so easy -- the conversations, the getting along, the understanding. But, you started working here not too long before Lucien was on his way out the door. You could only pray you would be able to talk to him the same as his brother.

"Don't worry about it, Y/N. I'm sure when Lu sees how charming you can be, he'd be stupid not to take your hand." Eris flashes an award-winning smile, and you can't help but feel hopeful by his tone.

You only hope you can pull this off without a hitch.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ

The deep violet dress you wore clung to every curve, the soft fabric scrunching in all the right places as it brushed the against your legs and drug along the leaf-littered ground behind you. You'd allowed your hair out of your usual braid for tonight, the long wavy tendrils sweeping down your exposed back, locks illuminated by the moonlight. You had to admit, you did appreciate the way you looked when you put in some effort -- you'd do it everyday, only for him.

"Y/N," Eris' soft whisper-shout echoes from the illuminated doorway as you round the corner of the palace, just where you'd arranged to meet. Turns out, sneaking into the ball was a lot easier than you'd thought; Beron was too busy in the throne room to pay any mind to where his oldest son was, which of course, was helping you enter through one of the unguarded back entrances.

"Wow," he breathes, pulling the heavy door closed and ushering you inside. "You're a vision." You blush, swatting his arm.

"Well, while I appreciate the compliment," you state. "Let's hope your brother reciprocates the sentiment."

Eris chuckles. "He would be a damned fool not to." You followed closely behind him as he led you down corridor after corridor, some unfamiliar at first as he peered around the corners before leading you down the halls. The sound of people talking rang out, and you heard the approaching throne room, recognising more of your surroundings. You placed a hand on Eris' arm, the fabric of his ornate jacket rough under your touch.

"You go in first," you say.

"Are you sure?" He asks, a tender look in your friend's eye.

You give him a knowing look. "Yes, your father would be suspicious if we walk in together." He nods, opening the doors a slit and slipping inside. You take a deep breath, wringing your hands and grounding yourself once more. You were finally going to have a chance, a chance to see him again tonight - and try your very best to not mess this all up.

Opening the door, you inch inside, hoping to not catch the eye of Beron or the Lady of Autumn -- youwere, after all, not "technically" invited to this thing after all. Luckily, you'd waited long enough that their attention had drifted back to the dancefloor and Eris had made it to their side by now, and only he was looking to you as you slid along the wall noiselessly blending in with the crowd.

Your gaze searched the scene, looking for a certain redhead. Of course, Eris stood out among the crowd of beautiful maidens, all adorning lovely full gowns and makeup much more extravagant than your own. Guess you didn't get the memo. Nonetheless, you see a few of Lucien's brothers making their rounds as well, girls shamelessly flirting with them too. However, the Vanserra you were seeking was nowhere to be found.

That is, until a few moments later when Beron rose and cleared his throat.

"Good evening to everyone," he began and the room quieted. You slunk deeper into the shadows, trying to remain hidden as he peered out into the crowd.

"Thank you all for attending this rather, special, evening," he chuckles. Eris rolls his eyes at his father's indecency. You can't help but do the same as a few girls near you giggle in excitement.

"I would like to present my son of the evening, the most eligible and willing bachelor, Lucien Vanserra," he says. Lucien stalks out from the entrance beyond the thrones, and many of the ladies in the room gasp and giggle. You can't help but widen your eyes at his presence. You had to admit, his beauty was incomparable.

"Allow the ball to commence!" Beron ends his stupid announcement with that, and Lucien's stoic expression has your gaze dropping, remembering how hard this must be from him. Women all around are fluttering about, some gossiping, some flanking his side immediately -- Gods, that must be so suffocating. Your gaze meets Eris', and he tosses you a wink, motioning with his hands in a way that indictates give him some time. You then watch him glance at the incessant ladies pouncing on Lucien, and see him grimace and shake his head. You giggle, and head for the table of treats along the wall. If you have to wait your time, that's fine -- you'd been playing the long game for this long anyways, what was a few more hours?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ

Yes, you'd been crushing from afar for so long -- but now that you shared air, it was a lot harder to stay on a long leash.

Watching him share dance after dance with beautiful fae after beautiful fae was... well, hurtful. You knew what you wanted, well... what you damn near needed, but you also knew that you needed to wait for the right moment.

What did you have that these ladies didn't?

All night, you looked around, comparing -- they were gorgeous, all High Fae, all much more glamorous than you. But, did they know him? No. Did they have much of a personality, or were they just here in hopes of being married off to the High Lord's newly-available son?

You needed to take the different approach.

And, hiding out by the food tables would not get you noticed.

You knew by the look on Lucien's face that he was getting tired of dancing the same dance, over and over and over. Having the same conversations, over. And over. And over. Sooner or later, he'd need an escape, and you knew this place like the back of your hand.

So where would he go?

You slipped outside, to the vast expanse of the private balcony off the throne room and rested your arms on the marble railing. Eris didn't miss your exit, suggesting to his brother a breath of fresh air, which he was happy to oblige in. You would have to remember to thank him later.

"Uhh, miss? This is a private balcony-"

You turn, hair brushing over your shoulder with the movement. Your eyes meet his, and heat floods your cheeks at the realization that the moment has finally come. The moonlight illuminates every russet freckle on his skin, the color matching his iris as his eyes widen in his own realization.

"Y/N?" He whispers, taking a tentative step toward you. You crack a half smile. You shrug your shoulders.

"In the flesh."

He walks quickly over to you, gasping and wrapping his arms around your waist. He pulls you in so tight, and your arms wrap around his neck. He laughs against your neck, the sound as light and magnificent as the stars above. You inhale deep, his scent of amber and sunshine warming you to the core.

"I can't believe this, I... I haven't seen you in forever, I mean... how... wait, how are you here?" He chuckles again, releasing you. You wish he would hold you forever, but you pull back to look at him. He's still smiling down at you, a mere foot from you now, his hands still resting on the small of your waist.

"Well... you know I would never be invited to this sort of thing but... I've never exactly played by the rules." You wink at him, and he rolls his eyes, laughing heartly once more. He inhales fully and lets it go, gazing once more at you.

"Ohhhh, Y/N, it sure is good to see you again. And no, you never have played by any kind of rules," he shakes his head, and you register your hands still softly bracing his biceps. You grin up at him, and he seems to realize the intimacy at the same time you do. He releases you in that moment, moving to the balcony and loosing a breath, looking out at the Autumn Court beyond. You move to stand next to him, feeling his body heat even from a few feet away.

"Can you believe my dad would do such a rediculous thing like this?" He asks after a few beats of silence. You chew your lip, sneaking a glance at him. His jaw is tight as he continues to look straight ahead.

"Honestly... yeah. He is... he is somethin'." You say. Lucien turns, facing you once more.

"Has he gotten worse since I left?" He asks. You think for a moment, and his eyes search yours.

"I mean... I don't know. I talk more with your mom. He's still, well, cruel, not with me in particular, but with just everyone, I guess." He swears under his breath.

"I should have never left." He says. You place a hand over his and he glances down at it, then back out at the court, swallowing thickly. "None of this would have ever happened. I would have never met Elain. It never would have gotten worse here. I would have never-"

"Hey hey hey, don't say that," you say. He gazes at you again. You smile kindly at him. "We're all okay here -- the only thing that got worse was how much we all missed you." You trace a vein atop his hand and he breathes in deep, eyes fluttering down, then back up to yours, growing darker. "Well... how much I missed you, anyways."

He smiles softly. "Is that so?" He says quietly, and you nod.

"And... Elain is... so... so blind for not seeing the amazing man she's missing out on..." you lift your gaze to meet his eyes, and he slides his empty hand to your hip, pulling you close. He pulls you so close that you're sharing a breath as he practically whispers the next words into your mouth.

"Honestly... I might be glad she broke the bond. She is nothing compared to what I've been missing out on."

His lips press to yours, and you can only feel a rush of golden fireworks inside as his fingers brush through your hair, moving to cup your jaw and stroke your cheek. His lips move, kissing you sesually as your hands hold onto his shoulders, finally reveling in the moment you'd only dreamed would come true.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ

[roseodelle]

Arcane  Pt4 - Eris Vanserra x Unnamed OC

Eris’s best kept secret is infiltrated.

No use of y/n

WC: 1634

Warnings: Angst

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 (end)

It had been an hour. No words had been spoken. No questions. Rhysand had only left the room briefly to pull a chair for himself in. Azriel still stands stoic and emotionless in the corner, shadows swirling. Feyre and Madja still tended to the broken body before him. Eris hadn’t shifted in his seat, nor had he taken his eyes away from his mate. His tears and panic had subsided, and a meager attempt at his usual mask of indifference had been implemented. There was no use, he knew. The inner circle had already seen him as he was. The charade was over. His father knew of his indiscretions. The Night Court knew of his soul.

Footsteps on the other side of the door have Eris on edge, quickly rising from the chair. Hand on hilt, he takes a step to shield his mate and the two women tending her. Rhysand takes one step toward Eris, hands raised as if to say, “It’s okay.” Azriel remains unmoved and unconcerned when the door cracks open and the familiar figure of his youngest brother enters. Long red hair frames a scarred face. Mixed eyes, russet and mechanical gold, meet Eris’s amber. And with a sad smile, Lucien takes a singular glance toward the body on the table behind him and rests against the unoccupied wall across from the spymaster.

“You’ve made quite the mess of things, brother. You should know better.” Eris’s grip on his sword falls as he examines his brother. Unharmed, though shadows have made a home underneath his eyes. Shaking his head, he takes his seat again, eyes finding their home on his mate and the healer. Feyre, who had yet to say a word or glance in his direction, now stood next to Rhysand. Taking a break, he surmises. Madja is still at work, gentle magic fleeing her fingertips and bringing color back to his mate’s skin. The burns have subsided exponentially. 

“How many of my brothers remain breathing?” Lucien asks.

“Bastian lives.” From his peripheral, he sees Lucien give a small smile. Bastian, who was less Vanserra than any of them. Mild-mannered and even-tempered, he was rarely involved in the malignancy of the court. Hopefully, Eris would not need to kill him upon his return to Autumn. It was a problem for later, he thinks. His mind is stretched too thin to strategize. Not while his mate still lay unconscious. A few moments of silence pass between them before Lucien prods at his oldest brother further.

“You should have known better, Eris. After Jesminda-” 

“Do not speak of which you do not know, brother.” Eris cuts off, temper rising. Lucien’s jaw clenches, hands wringing together in an effort to hold his tongue. An uncomfortable quiet falls over the room once more as Lucien examines his brother’s mate. With a tilt of his head, he looks back to Eris.

“I recognize her.” A solemn smile rests on Eris’s lips in response.

“She adored you.” When Lucien had been but a babe, not yet old enough to hold a bow on his own, Eris would take him to the border to play in the forests. She’d be there with a wild smile, ready to chase him through the trees and toss him in the air. For every four days over a few short years, she’d doted on the young male as if he were her own. She’d been heartbroken when Eris deemed Lucien old enough to pose a threat to her. They’d fought over his descision, but Beron’s influence had begun to take hold of the boy. Eris would not risk it.

“You said she left the court. Emigrated to Summer.” 

“You started asking questions.” Eris explains.

“I wouldn’t have told them.” Shaking his head, Lucien leans forward with his hands on his knees. “I would not have put her in danger.” 

“I could not trust you, Lucien. You were so young. You would have led them to her. I would not allow it.” Lucien takes a deep breath, carefully picking his next words before he responds.

“I know now what you did for me and what you tried to do for Jesminda. And I thank you for it.” Eris nods his head in acknowledgment, hiding his surprise at his brothers thanks. A few more beats of silence follow before Lucien breaks the reprieve once more.

“She’d run with me, wouldn’t she? Chase me through the forest until I was too tired to walk on my own. That was so long ago, Eris. I was a boy.” He shakes his head once more before continuing, “For how long did you hide her?” 

“Two hundred years.” Lucien does not respond, and the quiet that follows lasts for another hour. At some point, Azriel and Lucien left the room. Feyre had done her part, it seems, and had taken to her own chair next to Rhysand, who still rests silently. It’s Madja who finally breaks the silence, addressing Eris as she begins to pack away her tonics, potions, and bloody supplies.

“Her internal injuries have mostly healed. The burns have faded but will remain permanent. She will likely rest through the night, and she’ll wake in pain, but she will recover.” A breath of relief escapes Eris as he stands, stepping to the healer to grasp her hands in his.

“Thank you, Madja.” She responds in kind, patting his hand with hers as she nods in reply. 

“Clean her,” she says as she moves to the door, “and be with her when she wakes.” Nodding his head, Eris takes Madja’s place at the table. It’s the closest he’s been to her in hours, and his breath shudders in his chest at the sight of her. Her skin is ashen, mottled with puckered red burn scars. Madja and Feyre had healed the deepest cuts on her arms and chest, leaving just the smallest marks and bruises that would heal with time. They’d wiped away most of the blood, but some remained on her skin and torn dress. He crouches to his knees beside her, a shaking hand rising to brush a wisp of hair away from her face. He pets her hair gently before he finds her cheek; her skin is warmer than before but still so cold. He allows his heat to escape him, warming her ashen skin slowly. 

“My love,” he whispers, “I’m so sorry.” His voice is choked, and his audience is forgotten as he examines her. He aches to see her eyes and hear her voice. He takes her hand in his, bringing it to his lips for a chaste kiss before he returns to gently running his hands over her skin. She’s still so cold. She hates the cold, he thinks. He startles when his concentration is broken, Feyre stepping into his line of vision, but does not stop his soft movements against his mate’s skin. 

“We have prepared a room for her here as she recovers. You may stay with her, Eris, until she is well.”

“Thank you. All of you.” Feyre nods in response, motioning her head toward the door.

“Follow me.” 

Feyre assisted him with the task of bathing his mate. Once she’d been settled in the grand guest room, the two were finally left alone. He’d bathed quickly in the connecting chambers, accepting the clothes offered to him by Feyre before returning to her side. He took his spot next to her on the plush bed, sliding under the covers and ensuring her warmth. Hours were spent watching the rise and fall of her chest. Watching as color returned to her ashen skin. His hands never strayed from her body. Gently caressing her hair, her face, and her arms. 

As the hours continue to pass, he finds himself growing tired. His mind begins to race, worrying about what’s to come. He will soon be facing his father once more. His remaining brother. His mother—gods, his mother. What will she think? What will she have to say? Has Beron taken his anger at Eris out on her once again? His most worrisome thought, though, is how he will keep his mate safe once she heals. The Night Court has offered him more than he could have hoped for, but their mercy will run out. Eris has spent hundreds of years ensuring that. Their grace today relied upon their belief that his mate should not have to pay for his actions. 

His fingers pace gentle patterns upon her hand, his eyes examining the new burn scars with intensity. He pulls her hand to his lips once more, another chaste kiss upon her skin, another whispered apology escaping him. Another tear rolls down his face.

“I’m so sorry, my love. Forgive me.” He closes his eyes, resting his head above hers.

“There’s nothing to forgive.” His heart stops beating, and his lungs falter at the sound of her voice. So hoarse, so broken, and so beautiful. He lifts his head, immediately taking her face in his hands. Her eyes are heavy lidded, but his tears renew as they meet his. Her hand raises to grasp at his hand on her cheek.

“Do not cry for me, my love.” He laughs, a bright smile overtaking him. A sob escapes him as he leans forward, a chaste kiss against her brow. His shoulders shake as he kisses her cheek. His chest heaves when he kisses her paradisiac lips. 

“Are you okay? What do you need?” He pulls away, ready to serve her. “Water? Are you in pain?” She instead shushes him, a weak hand grasping his to pull him back to her.

“Water,” she croaks, “and your brothers heads on a golden platter.” His sobs turn to laughter, and after pressing another kiss on her brow, he summons a glass of water.  

[chairofchaos]

Always An Angel; Never A God

Pairing: Eris &* OC (Alastair) Summary: Eris grapples with his thoughts about a bargain made by his mother.Rating: Teen Word Count: 1.6k Tags & Warnings: Angst. Domestic violence and abuse are core topics in this work, because of the overshadowing presence of Beron Vanserra. A/N: See end of post for full author's note. *"&" indicates that it is a platonic pairing/set of characters.

He had seen the fight coming. Of course, he knew his favorite coat was his father’s least favorite. His words were not polished or poised enough for the oldest son of a high lord. It was not enough, never enough to please Beron. 

The scorch marks on his sleeve wouldn’t be fixed. It didn’t matter that his mother had bought him the coat for his birthday, or that his aunt had done her best to spell it to be resistant to flame.

Eris could not withstand his father, no matter how much others tried to protect him. 

The dinner had been fine. Acceptable, by all accounts. Eris had spoken to the mother of the girl, no more than a child, really, who sat across from him. His father had placed him there intentionally, not because the girl or her mother were important in any way, but to reinforce that he was not.

The girl’s father sat beside Eris’ and paid no attention to his wife or child. He flirted with Eris’ mother. He wouldn’t pay for that until Eris came to power, but he would, since it was Carmina Vanserra who would pay for it tonight.

The sound of clinking glass and a splash of liquid brought him back to the dim light of the sitting room. Eris gazed out the window, barely feeling the press of the glass in his hand, his friend’s silhouette blocking the faint light from the candles in the hallway. 

“Any injuries?”

Eris sipped the drink. “None visible.”

“It’s always that way, isn’t it? Game of chess?”

Eris shook his head. “No.”

Alastair sighed. “If you always mope, you’ll never feel better.”

“If I don’t mourn, don’t I become complicit?”

“If you are, what does that mean for the rest of us?”

The night was cool, and the moon was high, its sickle poised to raze the forest over which it hung. He could see himself in those trees, his laughter carrying on the breeze to where he stood in his mother’s stead, a frown rather than a smile on his face.

“Don’t we owe it to her?”

“Of course we do.”

“How do you set it aside so easily? She raised you, too, as much as your own family did,” Eris asked, turning to set his empty glass on the table between the armchairs where Alastair reclined, his glass in his hand. He gestured absently towards the fireplace in silent demand, then polished off his drink. Eris blinked, and the wood lit with a blaze, another destruction in which he would find himself complicit. One day, one day.

Alastair leaned forward, his elbows on his knees as he stared at the floor. “She made that bargain of her own volition.”

“He’s getting stronger.”

“So are you.”

“It’s taking her with him.”

“That was the bargain.”

“I need to sleep.”

“If you try, will you?”

Eris bit his retort back. Alastair had seen him wander the halls in the middle of their childhood nights. On occasion, he’d joined him, the two of them in night clothes, their feet padding against the wooden floors to sneak out into the darkness and light the world ablaze with fire and rain storms, Eris’ flames shooting like lightning through Alastair’s clouds which shrouded them from view.

One such night had brought them here, the freedom of their powers having buried them in this living tomb, strangled by a choice neither of them would ever make and a promise they would never fulfill. The sickle moon, taunting him with each passing day.

“It wasn’t supposed to be this way,” he had told his mother the last time she had come for tea. She waved a dismissive hand, ignoring the scars which the movement exposed on her arm. 

“It wasn’t your choice to make.”

“He hurts you, more now than ever before.”

“And he will not lay a hand on you.”

Eris hadn’t told her the damage had already been done, that the initial promise his father had made to her when he was a child had not been kept, and that Beron held it over his head for thirty years while he tortured others in Eris’ stead.

“So others must suffer?”

“Better them than you,” Carmina had said softly. When he met her gaze, her eyes were hard, their burnished gold lit with a fire Eris rarely saw lit anymore, another destruction to fuel his fire. He had said nothing, and after a moment, turned the talk to the weather.

Alastair cleared his throat. “I could use a real walk.”

“Alright.” Eris took the three steps forward to stand beside his friend. “Lead the way.”

Alastair snorted, turning his eyes up to Eris. “I think that’s your job now.”

Eris’ stomach turned. He was thankful his friend couldn’t see the despair which crossed his face at the sight of the clouds in the eyes which had been blue, a rarity among the Autumn Court nobility, the biggest sign that Alastair’s father had not been of this court. Eris made himself breathe a small laugh. “Let’s go.”

It had been ten years since Beron had performed the spell which removed Alastair’s sight and Alastair had been dumped on Eris’ doorstep, dried streaks of bloody tears on his cheeks where they had streamed down his face. The lack of color in his eyes since that night served as Eris’ reminder of all he owed to his childhood friend, and the darkness which awaited him for all he had allowed to happen.

“I warned you,” his mother had hissed as Eris dragged Alastair’s body inside. “I told you what he would do.”

“Mother, please help him,” Eris had begged. 

“I cannot save him,” Carmina’s hand pressed to her chest, “even if I had the power to.”

“Why?”

“The bargain.”

The bargain. Always the bargain, the tattoo which graced the space over his mother’s heart, which shielded her from feeling, from involvement. That flame burned his skin as much as it did hers.

So Eris had cared for Alastair. Until he couldn’t anymore.

“Promise me,” Alastair had asked him when he woke. “Promise me you’ll stay out of it, no matter what happens.” He wouldn’t relent, no matter how Eris deflected, how he avoided the promptings.

Now, they stepped out the door together, a warm coat draped around Alastair’s shoulders. The bite of cold pressed into Eris’ upper arm where the scorch marks were. ‘So it goes,’ he thought.

After fire came cold nothingness, the emptiness of wrath spent on the deserving and undeserving alike. He knew it all too well.

“What was it this time?” Alastair asked. Wisps of clouds danced across the ground around them, parting only as they walked through, a single line left behind them.

“The guest of honor flirted with her all night. She was tactful. Either way, he would have been displeased. She couldn’t offend the guest. She couldn’t flirt back, either. She was stuck.”

“He’s a bastard.”

“If only he were,” Eris mused. “Maybe then I could unseat him.”

“You’ll get your revenge one day.”

“It won’t be soon enough to save us.”

Alastair said nothing. Eris could hear the faint cracking of leaves beneath his feet. The call of an owl in the forest to his left reached his ears, and he sighed. What could it hurt, to join them in this forest every night? To know the call of the owl, and the scent of the trees, as if they were a part of him, and he a part of all of them, living under the threat of the blade above their heads?

“Remind me, what was the phrasing of the bargain?”

“It won’t help you to go over this again,” Alastair reminded him. They stepped onto the forest path, Alastair staying close beside Eris to follow where his friend stepped.

“I know. Indulge me.”

“‘Eris is to remain safe from you and anyone you control. You, and those you control, will not harm him. You may not make a deal which could result in harm to him. In return, I will give you my power, freely and without reserve, as your carranam, until the day of my natural death. I will not request your power in return. I will not act against your interests. If either of us breaks this bond, we will suffer immediate death.’”

Eris tried to focus on the words, but they were fuzzy. Spoken in his presence, but so many years ago that he could not find them in himself. Alastair reminded him, when he wished to hear them, but it never helped.

“There’s no way out,” Eris murmured. 

“For any of us,” Alastair remarked. His voice was flat. “It was your saving.”

“And your undoing.”

“I suppose.”

“I can’t even wish he was dead, because it means she goes, too.”

“Death isn’t so bad.” When Eris said nothing, Alastair went on. “It’s freeing.”

Eris focused on the crunch of the leaves beneath his feet, the path winding up the hill away from the stream. “And what of those left behind?”

“They survive, in their own ways.”

Eris emerged into a clearing. “Is it really surviving?”

The sickle moon emerged overhead, its light brighter here atop the hill, the darkness of the forest between him and his home striking a contrast against the gleam of a large white headstone in the center of the glade. Eris paused. It was undisturbed, the marbled pattern a reflection of the fog which surrounded it in the cool night.

“Am I surviving? I never wanted to do this without you, carranam.” Alastair gave no answer as Eris knelt beside his headstone, the penitent at an altar of grief. He placed the coat by the headstone. “For you. If it’s cold.”

Eris lay his head atop the coat and stared at the sky, the moon burning into his eyes until he hoped he, too, would go blind with death. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, Alastair.”

The fog blew across his face, brushing against his cheek in the night as if, on the other side of the cloudy veil, someone wished him a good night, too.

A/N: A huge thank you to the mods @erisweekofficial for putting together this week! I'm so glad we all get to celebrate our autumn prince together, and incredibly thankful to be a part of my first Eris Week. Thank you to @tsunami-of-tears for all of the beautiful Eris Week dividers (you can find them here!). Last, but certainly not least, thank you to @dusk-muse and @ninthcircleofprythian for the super last minute beta read, brainstorming and coming up with titles with/for me, and for never actually attempting to kill me at the end of a fic. I hope you all enjoyed it! All my love, Chaos

Taglist: (if you ever want to hop on the taglist train, whether for a character, a pairing, or all of it, lmk! and if I fail to include you, I probably didn't see it or messed up some admin thing, so give me a holler in asks or another comment!) @dusk-muse @ninthcircleofprythian @lilah-asteria @c-starstuff-man0 @unanswered-stars

[separatist-apologist]

We Could Call It Even

Summary: Newly made and terrified, Elain Archeron's human fiance tells her of a creature that could turn her back and keep them together and Elain will stop at nothing to make rumor a reality.

There is no force that can undo fate. No magic that can unmake a mating bond. And Lucien Vanserra isn't about to let his mate throw herself in the path of certain death on a fools hope. Lucien will be forced, instead, to watch her love another man for eighty brutal, miserable years.

While Elain Archeron will have to contend with a life she hoped to never live…and a mate she never wanted.

Read on AO3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

“Mr. Vanserra,” Odessa began, sliding into his pub before it was open.

“Why did I give you a key?” he grumbled as she made her way forward, mug of coffee in her hand.

“That’s why,” she said with an easy grin. “Have you heard the rumors?”

“No,” he replied, taking that first sip. Lucien didn’t know if it was the beverage itself or merely the act of drinking something hot that seemed to bring him back to life. “Is Bernard in the harbor again?”

She laughed. “No. He quit drinking, remember?”

“Oh, of course. That explains why he was here carousing all night,” Lucien replied with a bite of sarcasm. “Tell me.”

“Remember the florist?” 

No, he didn’t—people seemed to forget that Lucien hadn’t lived here for centuries. Merely eighty something years, the vast majority spent making his little pub profitable. The florist had been gone by the time he came in—she’d simply moved away to be closer to great, great, great grandchildren he thought. Someone had to tell him that, anyway. Still, Lucien wasn’t about to admit all that. It would remind people he was still relatively new despite living there for nearly a century.

“Of course.”

Odessa’s grin told him she knew he was a liar. She didn’t call him on it, which was one of her better qualities.

“Well, she swore she was never going to sell that storefront. I think she was afraid of another pub—she was always going on and on about young people and their drinking habits. She sold it, though.”

“To who?”

Odessa shrugged. “No idea. Someone I’ve never seen before, and I thought she must be from the inland but her accent…sounds awfully familiar.” He narrowed his eyes. “No one from Prythian is coming out here to work.” Certainly no one he knew, anyway. 

“Maybe they’re from Rask, then. They’re always sneaking over the border, stealing our jobs—”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Lucien interrupted, uninterested in yet another long-winded diatribe on why everyone who wasn’t from their home was an evil. It was a common refrain—everyone thought so, Prythian included. Nationalist sentiment was especially high as one of their independence holidays was nearly upon the city. Flags of cerulean and white hung from nearly every storefront, waving in the breezy, ocean wind. Lucien's shop was no exception, though the whole thing amused him. He didn’t care one way or the other. It was simply good for business. 

He did like Vallahan, of course—when he pictured his future, he didn’t see himself leaving. The memories were still far too fresh to return to Prythian, and despite the time that had passed, it seemed very little had changed. His mother was still married to Beron, his brother likely still schemed. Feyre’s oldest son was nearly grown and she still governed as High Lady of Night, her inner circle also unchanged.

She came to visit sometimes, spending an evening in his home above the pub. Rather than the small room he’d once furnished, his home had expanded to three bedrooms, an actual living room, and a full-sized kitchen he spent a lot of time in. One of those bedrooms was designated for Feyre only, dressed up in soft lilac and cream to suit her tastes.

She spent more and more time each visit, telling him of everything he’d missed. It was mostly amusing personal stories or inter-court drama that still amused him. She was careful never to mention Elain. At first, Lucien had thought she was dancing around the subject to spare his feelings. In time, however, he realized that Ferye simply didn’t know. Elain didn’t keep in touch, and Feyre hadn’t reached out.

Sometimes he wondered if the human male had died or not. If Elain had gone crawling back to her sisters, begging for absolution that they’d absolutely give her. Was it wrong to hope that Rhysand, at least, might give her a little hell? 

The pain had lessened to a dull ache in his chest. Some nights it pained him more than others but for the most part, Lucien could ignore it entirely. She’d made her choices, and he’d made his. There was simply no road where they might meet again. Elain would return to Prythian, she’d embrace being faerie, and would likely find some new male to torment for the rest of her days. Lucien had no intention of returning unless he could return to Autumn itself.

“Do you have anything else for me?” Lucien asked Odessa, pulling himself out of his depressed thoughts. He took another sip of his rapidly cooling beverage while Odessa continued to grin. 

“You’re not going to say hello? I heard she’s very beautiful.”

The thought made his stomach clench. He’d had enough of  beautiful females. Sure, when he’d first gotten to Vallahan, he’d made a name for himself, sleeping with whoever interested him to mask his own pain. For twenty years Lucien had acted that way until one morning he woke up miserable, angry, and still in pain. It wasn’t helping. It had never helped. What was the point of moving away if he was going to bring all his same bad habits with him?

So he’d stopped. Sometimes he missed the warmth of another body in his bed, but it passed easily. 

“Why don’t you say hello to her for me?” Lucien suggested. Odessa had just as fearsome a reputation with females as Lucien did. Her smile only widened.

“I’m trying but she’s like a nervous little fawn—scampering off anytime someone gets a little too close.”

Lucien only shrugged, draining the rest of his coffee before sliding the porcelain mug over to her. “Sounds like your problem. Not mine.” If there was more Odessa wanted to say, she wisely kept her mouth shut. She took her mug, threw Lucien a rather saucy wink, and sauntered out of the pub. She had other people to make the rounds with, spreading the gossip as far as she could. Lucien promptly forgot as he made the climb back upstairs to fully dress himself for the day. It promised to be warm, and when the weather was uncomfortable, folks retreated indoors for respite and a drink. When it was pleasant, they sat outside drinking and eating and talking well into the early hours of the night.

No matter what, Lucien came out on top. 

He took his time bathing before braiding his hair off the crown of his head once the warm air had dried the strands. He dressed casually, leaving the buttons in his shirt undone just below the collar, and a little untucked as well. It made him seem rakish, and Lucien rather liked his reputation, even if it was no longer deserved. 

Perception was everything, after all. 

Back downstairs, Lucien unlocked the back of the pub so Bernard could drop off meat and the cook could start preparing for the lunch. He made his way to the front to set out chairs, gaze turning to the florist just across the street. There had once been boards over the windows and the yellow paint had been chipping and peeling along the street. 

Who had purchased it, and painted it? The peeling paint was gone, revealing pretty limestone washed brick and vibrant, sage shutters thrown open. Planter boxes held swaying flowers and the yellow, rounded door had been thrown open. 

Lucien made his way across the street, narrowly avoiding a horse pulled cart filled with sun mellons stacked so high he was certain a few would spill out before they reached the grocer. Knocking on the front door, he called out, “Anyone home?”

Inside was far nicer than whatever had existed before. White walls ought to have been boring and uninspiring, but the owner had hung up pretty, twinkling lights where the wall met the ceiling along with bright floral displays that made the space seem alive. Bright.

Beautiful, he decided. 

“One moment!” called a soft, feminine voice. “I—oh, no—” her voice became muffled as the sounds of something crashing abruptly ended whatever she’d been about to say. Lucien hopped over the counter to push open the swinging door where a pair of fair legs jutted out from beneath a pile of heavy looking boxes. The soft smell of honey and jasmine invaded his senses, causing his heart to race. 

“Let me help,” he said, pulling that first box of what looked like discarded hardware off her form.

“This is my fault,” she said, pushing at the boxes on top of her. “I knew I shouldn’t…”

Lucien nearly dropped what he held directly back on the woman now staring up at him. Anger bloomed in his chest at the sight of those wide, brown eyes, half obscured thanks to the tangle of hair in her face.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded, dropping the items loudly to the floor. He was panting, he realized, his anger warring with familiar desire. His blood was awake, chanting the same word over and over.

Mate, mate, mate, mate—

Elain blinked, bottom lip trembling.

“Oh, here we fucking go,” he muttered, turning his back to her. “Did Feyre send you?”

“No, she didn’t send me. Why? Did she finally realize the error of her ways and exile you?”

He wanted to throttle her.

He wanted to inhale her scent from the crook of her neck.

“Turn around and go home, Elain,” he dismissed, needing to get away from her. He’d lose his mind if he had to live across the street from her, and Lucien wasn’t picking back up and starting over. He’d come here to get away from her and she had no right to encroach on his territory. “Surely your husband needs his diaper changed?”

“Oh, go to hell, Lucien,” she spat. 

“I don’t want you here—”

“I don’t care what you want—”

“Yes, you’ve made that abundantly clear!” Lucien exploded, his rage betraying him. “Everything has been about what you want since I found myself tethered to you! I bow to your whims and you don’t consider anyone—”

“Do you ever stop talking?” she interrupted, rubbing her temples with her fingers. “Poor, sad, Lucien. Maybe you can write about it in your journal? I’m here. I’m not leaving.”

They stared at one another, jaw set, shoulders squared. It was a fight she wanted? He could give her a fight.

“There are no humans here,” he informed her, making a show of examining his nails. “Just fae,”

She narrowed her eyes. “I know.” Obnoxious. “Does Feyre know you’re here?” He tried a different tactic, desperate to convince Elain to leave before she ruined everything. 

“I’m sure you’ll tell her,” Elain replied, her irritation plain. 

Lucien wanted to vomit. He could feel bile churning in his stomach, burning a path up his throat. This was all wrong—it had taken him nearly a century to stop dreaming about her, to push her out of his mind and move on. He was happy.

And here she was, come to ruin that, too. Elain Archeron felt owed, and had decided to get back everything taken from her even if it came at his expense. Especially if it came at his expense. Elain would think nothing of staying here, would think nothing of encroaching into the next place he moved, on and on until she’d marked the whole word as hers, and he simply had nowhere else to go.

“If you stay, I will make your life as miserable as you’ve made mine,” Lucien threatened. Elain blinked up at him, eyes watery. If she cried, he thought he might lose it and fully explode with rage. 

“I died,” Elain hissed, closing the gap between them to jab her finger into his chest, “and the first thing I heard when I came out was your horrible voice declaring we were mates. I could never make you half as miserable as you’ve made me.” Lucien was unmoved. “Watch me.”

He turned, then, delighted to have gotten the last word, and made his way back into the street where the air didn’t smell like her. Small mercies. His body was a betrayer, heart thudding not with hatred or fury, but excitement. Some stupid part of him wanted to go back into that room and bury his nose in her hair. Instinct, he supposed, that he couldn’t wholly overcome.

Smelling her wouldn’t make him like her any better. Maybe fucking her would ease some bruising ache in his chest, but it certainly wouldn’t ease his aching heart. 

Lucien made his way back into his emptied pub, ignoring that it was nearly set up for lunch. Renatta would be in soon to serve while Lucien worked the bar and a few back of house staff cooked and stayed on top of dishes. He wanted to simply close it all down, pack up his things, and continue moving west. Lucien had a life here. A world that made sense, with friends who’d only ever known him as Lucien—not a High Lord's son, not an emissary to a court, or anyone of importance. 

Why should he go, he asked himself silently, seething with anger. She should return—surely she had a host of hybrid children that would be missing her? The thought was a punch to the gut, another reminder that he was never going to have that. His whole future had been ripped out from under him not once, but twice. Elain had gotten a lifetime with the male she loved, more than Lucien had ever been given, and still she was unsatisfied.

Spoiled. 

Lucien would make her regret it, he decided. She was an outsider, had purchased the business of a well-loved person, and was about to be known as the enemy of Lucien who was loved. For whatever that was worth. Lucien knew everyone and Elain knew no one. A few well placed rumors, a couple pieces of salacious gossip, and she’d become a shut-in. No friends to speak of, no social life, and little business to sustain her. He’d have her back on a ship to Velaris before the first frost bit at his nose. 

The thought offered Lucien a small amount of relief. And not to prove Elain right, but before he went back downstairs, Lucien fired off a quick missive to Feyre, furious she hadn’t warned him. Were they friends or not, he asked? How dare she meddle in his life knowing how badly Elain had wounded him. Not all mates were happy pairs. Lucien could think of very few who were happy. 

Feyre needed to butt out.

Once his letter was on its way to Prythian, Lucien felt like he could breathe a little. Taking the stairs two at a time, Lucien went behind the bar to wipe down glasses and prepare himself for what he hoped was a decently busy day. 

Renatta was there in her long, lacy blue skirt and her cinched top which she swore caused her to receive better tips. Lucien thought it was because her breasts were spilling out over the neckline, in danger of coming out entirely each time she bent low to drop off drinks or pick up plates. He wasn’t going to say that, of course—if nothing else, it would make a room full of half drunk males happy. 

She made her way toward him once she was done, leaning up on the counter with a smile on her face. “So,” she began, looking him up and down with an expression he was immediately distrustful of, “there's a new female in—”

“No. Matchmaking,” he interrupted, a familiar refrain he’d repeated a hundred times before. 

“She’s so pretty—”

“I heard she had screaming fever,” Lucien informed Renatta, a lie he was well aware of. Prythian had never had a case of screaming fever, to start, and Elain certainly bore none of the tell-tale scratch scars on her face from the ailment. “I heard she was on the run from a High Lord in Prythian.”

Renatta loved gossip—it was what made her so good at serving tables. She’d spread it among the patrons that night under the guise of friendly customer service. Everyone who came through would hear the rumors—Elain, too, who would have to stutter and stumble her way through explanations no one quite believed.

Lucien grinned, turning toward his tap as Renatta stood to seat the first people coming in. Her eyes were bright with excitement, bouncing toward them with a secret she’d get to share. The night passed in much the same way—Lucien stayed so busy he didn’t have time to think about Elain.

He wouldn’t have thought of her at all had she not come storming over that next morning. He’d managed to throw a pair of trousers over his hips, unlaced and revealing a trail of hair that vanished along the waistband. He assumed it was Odessa with his coffee,  banging to let him in so they could gossip quietly for the next hour. 

It was Elain, arms crossed over her chest, hair plastered to her face thanks to a drizzling rain just outside. Lucien hesitated, suddenly too aware of his body. Lucien was uncomfortable, made worse when her eyes widened in horror, causing her to stumble back a step. 

“You—put on a shirt,” she ordered. Lucien’s temper flared.

“What do you want?” he replied, unwilling to do anything she asked, even if he privately agreed with her. Lucien was tired of her face, of her voice, of everything about her that she kept shoving in his face.

“Stop telling people I had screaming fever,” Elain hissed, looking over his shoulder rather than at him.

“I didn’t tell anyone that,” he lied, barely able to suppress a grin. “Maybe I just told them I found you impossibly ugly and they drew their own conclusions.”

Her eyes snapped to his face, narrowed to slits. “You’re a liar.”

He only shrugged. That was well-known. “Is that all?”

“You can’t run me out of this place, Lucien,” she said, unaware that the sound of his name on her lips made his whole body jerk with excitement. Traitor. 

“You can’t control everyone to get what you want,” he shot back, venom dripping from every word. “I’ve been here for eighty years while you shacked—”

She slapped him. Lucien saw her hand strike forward, felt her palm collide with his cheek. The string was brutal, filling his mouth with the coppery tang of blood. He grabbed her wrist before she could snatch it back, holding it tight enough that when she tried to pull back, he was certain he was bruising her skin.

Was this the first time he’d ever touched her? Like genuinely touched her? Lucien thought it might be. He’d once daydreamed what it would be like—nothing like reality. “If you do that again, I will make you regret it.”

“I already regret it,” she hissed, yanking vainly again. Lucien didn’t release her, though he should have. He could feel her fluttering pulse beneath his fingers, could practically taste the sweet scent of her. He hated her and he wanted her in equal measure. He didn’t want to let her go because touching her skin was soothing something angry in his chest. 

She was going to do far worse than hit him if he didn’t. He’d deserve it, too. Reluctantly, Lucien forced himself to let her go, watching as she cradled that hand against her chest. She looked like she wanted to pummel him. Lucien would like to see it, if only to witness a little spunk from the otherwise docile Elain. Sure, she was constantly telling him off, but those words were toothless. Elain always did what he wanted if he insulted her forcefully enough.

Only, Lucien didn’t want to right then. He suddenly felt exhausted, worn down by his strange life and the female with her heaving chest staring up at him with so much hatred.

“Leave me alone, Elain. I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to speak to you. I want nothing from you.”

That ought to have been the end of it. Lucien certainly hoped so, anyway. He reached for the door, but Elain slammed out a hand, preventing him from shutting it in his face.

“Why not go back to Prythian, then?” she suggested silky. His anger spiked again.

“Why not go back to the humans you love so much?” he shot back, eyes trailing to her ears. The tips warmed, turning a bright shade of pink as though she were embarrassed he could see them peeking out from behind her mass of thick curls. 

“You don’t know anything at all,” she hissed, turning on her heel to stalk off. “And if you don’t stop telling stories, I’ll start telling stories about you. Maybe I’ll tell them who you really are. Or maybe I’ll tell your brothers. I heard they were looking for you.”

Lucien paled and Elain smiled, triumphant to have the upper hand for once. 

“This isn’t over!” he yelled at her retreating back. And to his surprise, she looked over her shoulder and offered him a rather rude gesture with her hand. Lucien would have laughed had he not been so surprised to see it. She vanished inside her little shop, leaving Lucien half naked on the front step of his own.

Game on, Elain Archeron.

Game on.

[moonlightazriel]

Chapter 16: When a friend is in need /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: Lucien goes after his family for help, stepping in the Autmun Court for the first time in centuries.

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: The usual angst.

Notes: I thought about not posting this today, since everything that's been happening but I decided to post to bring some joy in between the terrible things that are happening, I hope you guys understand my position. Love u.

Main Masterlist

Worlds Apart Masterlist

Lucien held Elain’s hand and she noticed how his palms were sweaty, with a slight shake. She knew he was nervous, coming home after so long, she didn't even know how long it was. But here they were, strolling through the hallways of the Forest House. 

The wooden walls are adorned with centuries of Autumn Court art, orange curtains and the smell of oak. The decorations were picked to complement each other, everything ornate to create a magical atmosphere, but something felt wrong. 

She didn't know if it was the way the servants avoided looking at them, quickly bowing their heads at the sight of the youngest autumn prince or how they immediately ran away from their path. The atmosphere felt tense, like they were afraid of doing the wrong thing and being punished for it. 

But her mate had asked her to join him, he wanted her there, she even dared to think that he needed her there, to ground him and remind him that he had gotten out of that, he wasn't stuck under his father's grip anymore, he was a free male. 

The guards at the double door bowed their heads to him, pushing the doors open to reveal the throne room, Beron sat with a sneer, crown atop his head as he eyed Lucien and Elain up and down. By his side, silently, his mother sat, her eyes litting up with love and longing, her fingers twitched to touch her beautiful son. 

His eyes lingered on his mother for a little while longer, before he turned to his brothers standing by the sides, Eris first as always, being the first born and the heir. Arathorn by his side as the second oldest, Inialos as the middle born and then finally Elissar, the second youngest. Lucien could almost see himself by his side, serious expression and impeccable posture, like they did now. 

“I couldn't believe you would actually have the audacity to show up after that letter “demanding” a meeting!” Beron said and Elain flinched with the look directed to her. “Especially with someone like her, not even a real fae.” 

“I'm not here to talk to you.” Lucien said, ignoring the disgusting tone in his father's voice. “I came here to talk to you, brothers.” He turned to his siblings, they all looked at him with interest. 

“I'm here to ask for your help, we have an enemy in common, Koschei.” He started but Beron scoffed. 

“Koschei is not an enemy, he's here to save us all from someone like Rhysand and his whore of a mate.” Lucien felt Elain squeezing his hand harder. 

“Is that the lie he feeds you, father?” Lucien's stern gaze focused on the male at the throne, how he hated him. 

“It's the truth, and he'll make us powerful again.” Beron said with his chest puffed, confidence filled him. 

“More like kill you all.” Elain replied. 

“What do you know about it?” He barely looked at her.

“Koschei is from a world of demons, they kill and conquer, and do you know what can kill the likes of him?” Her voice didn't falter, she was ready to get them to work together no matter what. 

“What does kill him, dear sister?” Eris spoke, earning a growl from his father, Lucien needed him and he wouldn't fail him, not anymore. 

“Fire.” All of their eyes were on her now.

“Our fire.” Lucien added. “The fire of Celeste Vanserra, the only one who was close enough to kill Koschei.”

“There's no Celeste Vanserra. They are lying and you're too dumb to believe it, Eris. But I shouldn't be surprised.” If looks could kill, Eris would be dead by now. 

“She was my ancestor.” His mother spoke and he basked in the warmth of her voice, he missed her. “They tried to erase her from history, but her name was passed through the females in my family, no one forgot her, Celeste was the fire born, we carry her blood and her power.” 

“Lies!” Beron yelled, rising from his spot. Elain felt her head hurt, her vision getting blurry and her head was filled with visions, from a nearby future, where no autumn court remained, destroyed by Koschei. 

“It will be the end of your lineage, Beron Vanserra, and your own end. Koschei won't stop until he kills every single fae with fire abilities.” She warned, she could see his dead corpse in her head, his sons laying by his side. 

“And what do you want us to do, brother?” Arathorn intervened, stepping forward.

“You need to fight, we need to end Koschei, or else he'll end us.” Lucien begged and his brothers nodded. 

“We'll come with you.” Elissar promised, but Beron laughed, so loud that made Elain's ear hurt. 

“You won't do such a thing, no one will leave this court as Koschei isn't a threat.” He commanded, fear clouded his sons' gazes, they never respected him, but fear has a way to control people, make their bend to their will, but not anymore. 

“Your children will help us if they choose to do so, you won't stop them, or else your end won't come by Koschei’s hand. You will learn why they call me the King slayer.” Elain promised, her irises still white from the vision she had, Beron trembled with the simple promise her words carried, either he got out of the way or he would die. 

“If you go, don't dare coming back.” He threatened but for the first time, this felt more like a blessing than a curse. So one by one, his sons followed to their brother's side. 

“I will fight too.” His mother got up from the throne, walking to stand among her children, Beron was fuming but he wouldn't dare to try anything when his sons could do much worse to him. So he watched in silence as she cupped Lucien's cheek, pulling him in for a long, tight hug, whispered something in his ear and turned to Elain, repeating the motion. “Welcome to the family darling, I promise we are better than this.”

“I know. And I'm glad to be a part of this.” She gestured to the males surrounding her, and Beron sulked into his seat as he watched his wife and kids leave the throne room, leaving him alone and feeling disrespected for the first time in centuries. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

The Vanserras gathered around the dining table, the spectre twins serving them plates filled with food. Feyre talked happily with Wendy, lady of the autumn court. Azriel occasionally squeezed Y/N’s thigh under the table, feeling a bit uncomfortable in their presence, after all, centuries old feud between the two courts weren’t easily forgotten over a good meal, but he was happy they decided to help. 

“So…” Eris said, clearing his throat, all the attention drifted to him, the chatter dying down. “What’s the plan we have?” 

“Well, we will free Koschei.” The autumn heirs gasped.

“Do you  think this is the best way of handling this?” Inialos inquired, trying to be as polite as he was taught, not wanting to disrespect a High Lord in his own home. 

“Unfortunately it’s the only way of doing it, that’s where you will shine.” Y/N replied, giving the males an encouraging thumbs up. 

“We need you all to create a fire dome. Once Lucien, Azriel, Y/N and I are inside, nothing can come out. It’s your job to prevent Koschei from getting free and conquering the rest of Prythian.” Nesta said with a smile gracing her beautiful harsh face. 

“And you think we can do it?” Arathorn raised his eyebrow in disbelief. 

“We are the only ones that can do it, we carry the blood and the name of Celeste, we will finish what she started.” Wendy Vanserra guaranteed and her sons looked at their mother, the confidence that they hadn't seen shining in her eyes for centuries was finally back. She was free now and she would never go back to being a slave. 

“Then it’s settled. Let’s kill that bastard.” Eris raised his glass in a sarcastic toast, he was sure they were fucked but if Koschei was half as dangerous as he suspected, using his powers to its fullest was the least of their problems. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“Are you okay?” Azriel asked, watching as Y/N sat by the large window in her room. Her eyes distant, her eyebrows scrunched like she was in pain.

“I miss him.” Azriel smiled at that.

“It’s only been two days.” He sat by her side, his thumb tracing the side of her face, along the bumpy patch of skin that formed her scar. 

“We’ve never been apart for so long.” She took a deep breath. “After Asterin, he was my anchor for so long. He had lost his friends just like me, so I couldn't force more suffering upon him. Whenever I was nearing the edge..” An iron nail slided across the skin of her neck and Azriel swallowed harshly at the thought. “He kept me alive.” 

“He is fine, I know that.” He kissed her hand, the one he pulled away from her neck. “Soon you two will be together.” She rested her head against his chest, letting the beatings of his heart soothe her distressed mind. “Let’s go to sleep, we have a busy day tomorrow.” 

Y/N nodded, getting up and following the Shadowsinger towards the bed, allowing him to pull her closer and wrap his arms around her waist, his scent filling her mind. His fingers tracing invisible random patterns on the skin of her hips. 

“Do you think you will ever forget me?” She blurted, not allowing him to answer before she continued. “Cuz no matter the distance between us, how many worlds I travel to, you’re engraved in my heart forever, you saw me, truly saw me when I was afraid of looking at myself, you mended the broken pieces of my soul and made me someone again.” 

“Is this your way of saying goodbye?” He inquired and truly? She didn’t know.

She kept quiet for a while, her mind in a violent battle with her heart. She had to go back, Manon needed her, she had her duties to fulfil, Asterin would be so disappointed if she left it all behind. She couldn’t let Manon down cuz letting Manon down meant letting Asterin’s efforts all go to waste. 

“I don’t know.” Her heart bleeded with that answer, that stupid thing ready to throw it all out for him, her soul claimed for him. If the time ever came, she didn’t know how she would be able to choose. 

“In that case, I'm glad I had this time with you, it's more than i could’ve asked for, thank you for allowing me in your heart.” He kissed her lips with a delicacy that broke her heart just a bit further. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

The next day came, Y/N shuffled in bed, feeling more tired than the day before, her body rested but her mind kept awake, frantic thoughts preventing her from actually resting properly, she kept quiet, not wanting to wake Azriel up, she didn’t wanted to face the sadness that clouded his eyes after their conversation last night, too damn coward to face him, to tell him that she loved him more than she had ever loved anyone. Why would she say it, just to break both of their hearts when she eventually went home? She wouldn’t be that cruel.

So she sucked it up, taking a long scalding shower that usually helped her through the day, getting in the Illyrian leathers that were like a second skin to her now, attaching both her sword and cloak behind her back before she stepped out of the bathroom. Azriel is long gone. 

The house was empty, just Nesta sat there, silently sipping tea from a mug, her icy blue eyes moving upwards, following the movements of Y/N sitting down with a sigh. She took in the prominent dark circles and the sadness darkening her gaze.

“Hard night?” The oldest Archeron inquired, getting a shrug as a reply.

“How am I supposed to leave you all behind?” She said, looking far away from the female in front of her, her fork poking a fluff piece of scrambled eggs. 

“You know you don’t need to, you can stay here with us.” Nesta offered and her eyes filled with tears, so heavy that she lowered her head.

“I can’t.” She took a deep breath. “They need me!”

“Do they? Or is that what you tell yourself?” Y/N turned her cold gaze towards Nesta, the female almost flinched with the pain reflected in them.

“I don’t even know at this point. I don’t belong anywhere.” She hiccuped, tears falling down the sides of her cheeks. “I am no one, I’m not important anymore, I keep telling myself that they need me but you’re right, do they? Are they even looking for me?”

“That’s not true, you know?” Nesta slides her hand over the table, opening her fingers, letting her know that she was there for her. “You matter and you are important to us.” 

“I’m sorry I didn't mean to burden you with all of this, it’s just so lonely and suffocating sometimes. I’m sorry.” Nesta felt her placing her hand on top of hers, she grasped it, squeezing it hard.

“Never apologise for your feelings. I’m your friend, I'm here to carry this weight with you.” She smiled at the Archeron, sniffling and looking at her with bright blue eyes.

“I don’t deserve a friend like you, thank you for everything Nesta.” The female smiled back at her.

“You don’t have to thank me, it’s my pleasure to call you my friend.” Nesta gave two light squeezes in her hand. “Let’s go?” Y/N nodded, getting up, her barely eaten breakfast disappearing. 

“Alright.” The two females walked towards the training balcony, everyone was there apart from Cassian, he was with the Illyrian troops, gathering them and transporting them towards the Manor, Jurian was already waiting for them with all they needed to feed an army that big. But if everything went according to the plan, it wouldn’t be longer until they were back to their camps. 

“Good morning ladies.” Elain greeted, waving from Lucien’s side. She was more certain of her abilities of Seer now, she thought that she could help if she was around, Lucien wasn’t very fond of the idea but he would never tell her no. 

“Good morning.” Y/N replied, her eyes landing on the distant figure of Azriel, on the farest corner of the balcony, his shadows darted towards her, wrapping themselves around her ankles and wrists, brushing over her face and making her smile. He watched the exchange in silence.

“Since we’re all here, it’s time to go.” Rhysand warned. They all started to get in small groups, the ones able to winnow carrying those who couldn’t.

She felt the breeze on her face, opening her eyes, Morrigan had winnowed them to the front yard of the Manor, where people walked around, getting settled. Winged warriors in battle gears and sharp swords here and there. 

His loud roar sounded when Meraxes felt her closer, startling everyone around. He had been in a sour mood since she left, she knew that. So she ran, looking for him, finding him near Azriel in the backyard. The shadowsinger petted his nose, pointing towards her with a smile. Y/N threw herself against her wyvern, arms engulfing him in a hug. 

“I missed you.” She said and he growled in agreement, like he was telling her to never be apart from him again. She stood like that for what felt like an eternity, just feeling him, their hearts beating as one. “I need to ask you a favour.” His big eyes opened and he stood still. “You won’t be able to protect me once I’m inside, so please protect Lucien’s brothers, they will be vulnerable and we need them.” Meraxes nodded. “I love you.” He puffed some steam around her body, his way of saying that he loved her too.

“I’ll take care of her, I promise that to you.” Azriel said from behind her, he had stayed silent until now. He was hurt from the idea of losing her, but he understood whatever decision she made, he would accept it and he would still love her with every fibre of his being. Meraxes nodded towards him and pushed Y/N away, making her stumble towards Azriel, collapsing against his chest.

“He respects you.” She said as the two walked inside. 

“Just because we both love you.” She stilled, turning to him, cupping his cheeks and pulling him down for a kiss. It was getting harder to think about leaving him. 

“We need to meet them, get everything planned for tomorrow.” She pulled him towards the dining room. 

“Why are we always the ones saving the world?” Cassian groaned, eyeing the map that displayed the lake and the cabin.

“Because we’re fucking awesome.” Morrigan replied, earning a chuckle from the table. 

“Then this should be easy.” Y/N spoke, getting closer to the table.

“Yeah, let’s get everything sorted.” Rhys silenced the table. “The illyrian troops will hide around in the forest along with the Vanserras.” Devlon and the red haired males nodded in agreement. “Azriel will disguise him and Lucien as Y/N and Nesta’s shadow.” Azriel nodded. “Y/N will pretend to take Nesta to him, and as soon as they’re inside, the dome needs to be up.” 

“It will be.” Eris spoke, earning an approving glare from Rhysand. 

“The monsters will attack as soon as he feels that something is wrong, so pay close attention, cut their heads out, and they will 100% die.” Y/N advised. 

“You already know the words Nesta?” The female nodded, she had been studying the freeing spell from the diary, they hoped it worked. “Then I think we are ready.” They all nodded. 

“You all should rest. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day.” Elain kindly advised.

“Just a regular day for us folks.” Azriel said, the inner circle started to laugh. “You should rest.” He said, guiding her upstairs to the room they shared in their stay there. 

“If anything happens tomorrow, I'm glad we had this time.” She said, feeling dread setting in her gut. She couldn’t wait for this nightmare to be over.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

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[thelov3lybookworm]

Never Meant To Be

Beron Vanserra x Reader

Summary: an elite member of the society and a poor girl from the lower part of the town are destined to never be.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: this is a beron fic. i do not in any way support abuse irl, but i wanted to rite for him. if you dont like beron, please dont read 😭

also. BIRTHDAY GIFT FIC FOR MY BELOVED @fell-in-luvs 🥹❣️

(dividers by @tsunami-of-tears <3)

anywho. enjoy!!

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Y/n paused midstep, curious eyes peering over the railing, trying to find where the sound was coming from. Hands tightened on the wooden bannister of the stairway, eyebrows furrowing. Maybe she should have brought a candle with her. The room was too dark for her to make out anything but the window in the far wall, lit up with the moonlight that spilled in, liquid and shimmery under the cover of night.

Breath escaping her lungs, Y/n descended the rest of the stairs, carefully tiptoeing so as not to wake her father sleeping on the floor above. By this point, she could recall the creaky steps from memory, and it was easy to avoid them. What she was more concerned about was bones lying around. Those sharp bones that flew around as her father butchered animals was the only thing Y/n was concerned about, really, considering she was barefoot.

Quietly, she made her way towards the window, slowly pulling open the drawer where she kept the candles. By the time her fingers wrapped around the waxy stick, her eyes had started drooping already. It hurt to keep them open, to the point she considered just returning to her room and ignoring the dripping liquid. But the area she lived in was poor, and the people here could not afford to waste resources. Water was precious, most of it being used up by the elites of the society, whatever little was left flowing down to the lower suburbs where Y/n resided with her father.

She brought out the candle, shutting her eyes tight before blinking them open again in hopes it would help her shake the fatigue that began weighing down her shoulders. Lifting her fingers to the wick was a task that seemed impossible, but she somehow managed to light the candle up. With that, she hurried towards the faucets in the kitchen, squinting. Sure enough, water dripped from the tap. A breath escaped Y/n as she reached her hand out, grabbing the handle and twisting until the water stopped dripping.

She turned, wondering if she should take the candle back to her room.

Whack.

Y/n blinked, wincing. What was that? She made her way back towards the window, peering out. As her gaze wandered out towards the street between the crowded homes, her eyes narrowed. A group of what looked like… higher up males messing around.

Scoffing, she turned away, ready to just go back to bed.

Alas, the males had other plans for her as the moment her attention flitted away, the sounds of howling and loud, obnoxious cheers reached her ears.

Pompous snobs. Rolling her eyes, Y/n decided that her father waking up because these boys who lived on their daddy’s money thought it’d be funny to be loud in the night, when everyone was sleeping, was not worth it. Her father was always so tired, and the few hours of rest he got were precious.

She yanked open the window, leaning her head out. "Hey! Shut it!"

The four males turned to look at her, their eyebrows raised. They all looked young, maybe around four hundred years old. They had expensive looking embroidered jackets on, their hair either slicked back or pulled into a ponytail.

"Oh? And what will you do if we don’t shut it?"

Jaw clenched, she studied the males. Two of them had dark hair, blue eyes, and the build of a teenage mortal. Possibly more into studying arts and literature than being a warrior. One had long, flowy blond hair, his eyes hooded and green like the skin of a toad.

That thought brought satisfaction to Y/n.

The one who looked the oldest among the fae, the one with short length auburn hair, stared straight at Y/n, no emotion on his face. The others had sneers and taunting smirks plastered on their faces, but not this one. He stood stoic, his eyes fixated.

She stared back at him for a few moments, unable to look away. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she somehow knew him. That she was supposed to know him.

But then he turned away, dismissing her. She stared at his back in bewilderment, her temper rising, sleep long forgotten.

Who did he think he was?

She wanted to call him, demanding an explanation. But that would have consequences, and neither she nor her father could afford it. Not to mention that if any of these males were a part of the high lord’s court, it would mean a death sentence or banishment.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Y/n retreated, blowing out the candle and shoving it back in its drawer before she stomped her way back to her room.

Y/n was mad because of the males behaviour, but more than that, she was mad at the fact that she was so bothered by the red headed male turning away from her, like she meant nothing. Like she was less than the dirt on the bottom of his boots.

Fuck him.

Sleep evaded Y/n for the rest of the night, her mind too busy trying to dissect her reaction to the male.

It was unusual for her. She never really cared for what people thought of her, having learned long ago not everyone would be nice to her all the time. But this male. He stayed on her mind, refusing to leave.

Morning came earlier than it should have. And with the first rays of the sun came her father’s booming voice, yelling at her to stop sleeping and to get her ass moving.

It grated on her nerves, and she had half the mind to yell back at him. But she pulled herself together, donning a simple dress. She did not help with the butchering, not really, but she did have to go out every morning to get some extra water from the creek nearby.

"Father! I am leaving!" She called out as she slid on her boots. A grunt was the only answer she got in return.

Early mornings were a precious time, for most of the people only started to leave their houses once the sun was higher in the sky. That meant that Y/n was all by herself at the creek.

Silence, cherished and peaceful, surrounded Y/n, only occasionally broken by the chirps of birds flying overhead in search of food for their younglings. The sun peeking out from behind the distant hills bathed Y/n in a soft warmth, warding off the early autumn chill. She was grateful for the sun’s loving embrace and its company as she settled down at the riverbed, the wet soil under her legs soft as she started to fill up her bucket.

Water gushed around her hand as she broke the water's current, filling up the vessel in her hand.

Crunch.

Y/n’s body locked up, her heart rising into her throat at the sound. No one should have been here. Not at this time. It was too early. Her instincts roared at her to get up, to flee. But she did neither.

She turned her head, glancing over her tensed shoulders to look for the predator that had decided to make her their prey. Because this was a predator, Y/n knew in her bones. Be it fae or animal, it was a predator.

Her eyes wandered, cautiously landing on the immaculately dressed male.

Amber eyes met her own.

Auburn hair. Amber eyes. Embroidered, expensive jacket over a silk tunic and tailored pants.

The male from the previous night stared back at Y/n, a sadistic glint in his eyes.

"Think I lost my way." He called.

Y/n narrowed her eyes. There was no way he didn’t follow her.

"What do you want?" Y/n questioned, getting her feet under herself, trying her best to not have her back facing him.

A corner of his mouth lifted. "Nothing, really." At her skeptical expression, he chuckled. "Did you have a good night of sleep last night?"

Y/n narrowed her eyes. "Is that all you came here for?"

He took a step forward, grass bending under his boots. Y/n took a step back instinctively, a lump rising in her throat. Muscles rolled and moved to try and accommodate it, but swallowing did not help as he continued to come closer.

"No. That is not all." Y/n glanced behind her, realising she stood at the very edge of the bank. One step was all it would take for her to tumble back into the water, and she’d rather be yelled at than drown in front of him.

"I wanted to make it up to you."

Y/n blinked. "I… what?"

He smirked, barely inches between them when he next spoke. "Did you not hear me the first time?"

Blood rushed to Y/n’s face. Now that he was so close, she could make out the shadow of a beard on his face, like he hadn’t shaved in days.

"I don’t understand how you are going to get me back my sleep."

His head tilted to the side, animal like. "How old are you, little fawn?"

Her chin lifted, refusing to budge under the intense gaze of the predator. "Twenty three."

The corner of his lips lifted higher, and for a moment, Y/n could not help but stare.

Eyes flitted away after a moment, realising she had been staring. "Twenty three? You’re basically a child."

Muscles rolled in her neck, then she met his eyes. "And?"

He shook his head, leaning back. "Let me make it up to you, beautiful. Meet me at the town square at sunset."

She blinked. "Why would I do that?"

He smirked. Shrugged, his jacket moving with the movement of his wide shoulders.

Then he turned, and stalked away, leaving her gaping at his back.

What just happened?

She did not have the answer to that question, but she did know she was not going.

Quickly, she composed her thoughts and set to filling up her bucket again, already dreading the scolding she would receive from her father because she took too much time to return home.

"Was he at least rich?"

Y/n froze, her fingers curling tighter into the sponge she had been rubbing against the pot. "What?"

"The male who wasted your time this morning. Was he one of the elites?"

Cold eyes turned to look at the weathered butcher, his eyes fixed on the meat he continued to whack with his knife. But Y/n knew his attention was fixed solely on Y/n and her answer.

Blowing a collected breath out of her nose, Y/n turned back to the pot she’d been scrubbing. "Maybe. How would I know?"

He scoffed. "Don’t play coy with me, girl. Do you want to keep all his riches for yourself?"

Eyes wide, she turned back to stare at him. "What do you mean by that?"

"You cannot expect me to believe your lies. A male just approached you out of nowhere, talked a little, then walked away, with no ulterior motives in mind?" Y/n simply stared at his back, and he finally dropped his knife, meeting his daughters eyes. "He obviously wanted to do something with you. He either wants to marry you, or he wants to use you for one night. Surely you can’t be that naive?"

Huffing, Y/n placed the pot back in the sink, throwing the sponge next to it and washed off her hands, trying to calm down her rising temper as she watched the soap suds vanish slowly.

"I’ll be outside."

"Go wherever you want, girl, as long as I get my share of money!"

Her eyes closed, a frustrated sigh puffing out from between her lips. Deciding that she needed more than the fresh air outside her walk, she began walking towards the town square mindlessly.

Not realising that it was almost sunset.

The square was busy, filled with males returning home from work and people who just wanted to have an early start to their nightly activities. The area was so crowded that Y/n debated turning around, but the thought vanished when she remembered why she was here in the first place.

To get away from her father. Maybe sit with some older ladies and have a chat.

"Going somewhere?"

Y/n glanced over her shoulder.

The male from the river side.

Her eyes widened, realising what time it was. He simply smirked and stalked forward, the crowd automatically parting for him. He didn’t even seem to realise that there were people around him.

"You look surprised." He mused.

Her eyes narrowed. "Maybe because I am?"

He chuckled. "You look like you’re in need of a distraction."

Y/n turned away. "Do I?"

He hummed. "I can provide a distraction."

She shot him an incredulous look. "No thank you."

She turned away, beginning to make her way through the crowd again. But… 

Maybe it would be a good idea to indulge him. At least for some time. Maybe she could even figure out why his nonchalant attitude bothered her so much.

"You know what? Humour me…"

A smirk spread across his lips, the first genuine expression Y/n had seen on him. "Beron."

Her brows furrowed. She knew she had heard that name somewhere.

There could be so many more males named Beron, She tried to reason with herself.

"Hmm. Let's see what you can do, Beron."

Being a four hundred year old heir was a hard job, one Beron excelled at. His father was a fucking monster, but at least Beron could forget about the asshole when he snuck out with the bastards who kissed his ass every chance they got. Beron knew that they did not really care for him. No, they just wanted a shiny title once Beron became high lord.

Beron never really considered himself a nice male. He knew he was going to turn out just like his father, and if he was being honest, he was fine with that fact. He had no interest in becoming a better person.

But then Y/n pushed her way into his life. Or maybe he simply dragged her in. All that mattered was her, and nothing more.

She was a shiny gem.

Beron was a dragon.

And he wanted her in his collection, no matter what it took. Beron would gladly take all the torture his father made him go through if it meant at the end of the day he would get to see her. Maybe fuck her. But she made him come alive. And for the first time in all his four hundred years of existence, Beron wondered.

Wondered what a family with her would look like. Maybe he would become a better man.

But if there was one thing Beron wasn’t, it was delusional. He knew it was all wishful thinking. She was a nobody, a poor butcher’s daughter from the lower clans of autumn court. He was destined to take over ruling the whole court. They were never meant to be.

But in the cover of night, within the safety of the four walls of his room and under his blanket, Beron let his thoughts run wild, letting himself imagine a world where his father was a better man.

Of course, his hope was dwindling down day by day.

Particularly after his run in with his father that morning.

"You summoned me?" Beron muttered, his eyes lowered in deference.

The high lord hummed. "Come in." Lungs expanding, Beron made his way to stand in front of his father. "I will save us both time and get to the point."

Beron blinked.

"The peasant girl you’re fucking. I don’t want anyone finding out."

His blood chilled, eyes flying to fix on the relaxed figure of his father. "What?"

The high lord snorted. "You think I am naive? dumb? Listen closely, Beron. You are most likely going to be chosen by the magic to be the next high lord. I don’t want you marrying a good for nothing peasant. Fuck around, sure. But if I were you, I would make sure she did not fall pregnant." He finally looked at his son. "Oh and, start preparing. I have set up a marriage for you which will be beneficial for everyone."

Nothing ever surprised Y/n. And if it did, she was good at hiding it.

It was a surprise to Y/n when Beron showed up at her house every day since then, but he was one of the elite families in the autumn court. So that meant he was never denied anything in his life, so it came as no surprise when he thought he was entitled to her time.

But what did surprise Y/n when she actually wanted to spend time with him. So she just went along with his plans, often spending time together sitting at the cliff sides, watching the sunset.

He just… pulled her in. He enchanted her, and she was grateful he did. He had bewitched her, body, mind, soul. And she never wanted to go back to what she was before he came along.

She was aware that their union was improbable. Maybe impossible. But no one could fault her for being hopeful.

The crisp autumn air swirled around Y/n as she made her way to the hut outside of the town's borders, invisible to the fae passing because of the cover of trees around it. Shivers wound up her spine, leaves crunching under her boots. She pulled the scarf around her neck tighter, already anticipating wrapping herself around her lover when she got to his secret home.

He had revealed the place to her late one evening, handing her the keys to it. Later Y/n found out he had brought the place specifically so the two of them could meet in peace.

Moments passed in silence, only broken by her steps and the movement of the trees, animals and spirits around her in the forest. She hurried on, eager to tell Beron about the kitten that had started following Y/n around the previous day, only slowing down when the wooden structure came into view.

Along with it came dread.

Why, she did not know.

The surroundings were eerily quiet, like even the wind was holding its breath.

Confusion dug its claws in, along with doubt and fear. Was Beron home?

The door creaked open, and she tiptoed inside, a resounding click echoing behind her. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness inside, she stopped breathing.

What happened here?

The whole interior of the house looked like a storm had been inside. Shards of glass, cutlery, plants, wood pieces littered the ground, a dark stain covering a small area on the opposite wall. Hell, even the dining table was upended.

Her heart slowed, then resumed its hard pace. "Beron?" The sound of the name was shrill, panic evident as she discarded the basket in her hand next to the door, running deeper. "Beron? Are you home?"

Crash.

And then silence.

The door to the bedroom was cracked open, and the closer Y/n got, she could hear heavy breathing from the other side of the wood. Steps slowed, air rushing in despite the barrier in her throat as she peeked inside.

The first thing she noticed was the blood.

A lot of blood.

Dripping from his fist as he stood there, staring at the shattered glass at his feet.

"B- Beron?"

Wild, primal eyes met hers, mad intent in them. Fear started to seep into her blood the longer she stared back at him. And if she hadn’t been watching him so intently, she would have missed his whispered words.

"I’m getting married."

Ice. So cold, so numbing, took over any other emotion in her body, overriding her senses.

"Oh," deep breath, "well. Congratulations then."

And with that, Y/n turned away, ignoring his incredulous laugh echoing through the hollow walls that surrounded her.

"Go on, run away! Everyone does."

His words followed Y/n all the way to her home, haunted her all night. That laugh, the crack in his voice, the emotions that ran rampant in his eyes. All of it kept her up. Pained her, dug its claws into her heart and ripped her apart from the inside.

It felt like someone had cut open her body and lit a fire to her organs.

And she deserved it.

She hurt all night long, the tears running down the sides of her face and back into her hair burned too, like acid. But growing up in the lower parts, she was used to ignoring all pains. That's what people did when there were things to be done.

Ignore the pains during the day, cry about it at night. But keep it all inside, don’t let anyone find out.

So when the sun’s rays broke in through her windows, she made herself get up. Got changed. Stared at herself in the mirror until she was sure there were no cracks.

And then she went about her day, ignoring the shards of her broken heart that poked at her flesh.

Just like she had ignored the shiny, golden string that tied her to Beron.

The females had been whispering. Everyone around Y/n seemed to know what was going on. She could not be quite sure what they were talking about, but from an overheard conversation between two housewives at the town square, Y/n drew the conclusion that the high lord had passed.

And the heir was going to take over soon. He was also getting married in a few hours in the sacred temple in the middle of the town, and anyone was free to come see and give their blessings. As Y/n had expected, her father jumped at the opportunity to even be breathing the same air as the elites.

Y/n knew he also wanted to go and see if he could find a male willing to pay in exchange for Y/n’s hand.

"Y/n! We will miss the wedding! Can you be any slower?"

Deep breaths. She reminded herself as she fixed her skirts, eyes fixed on the mirror. When she deemed herself fit to be presented, she turned.

Her father looked livid as he stood outside the house, and Y/n knew a tantrum was on its way. But to Y/n’s surprise, he turned and walked away, leaving her to run after him to catch up.

The air was unusually humid the closer they got to the clearing in the forest where every high lord had held important events.

It seemed like everyone had come to see the new high lord get married. Every few moments, an elbow would hit Y/n in the back, in her ribs. Anywhere, really.

It was by the time that she was sure that her skin was going to bruise that the high lord came into view.

And Y/n’s lungs turned into rock, refusing to expand to let air in.

Amber eyes surveyed the crowd, landing on hers with unnatural precision.

Eyes prickling, Y/n watched him glance at his bride, who nodded along to the priestess, before returning to her.

A silent, long moment passed. And then his eyes widened, shining with so much emotion. She had never seen him this bothered.

And finally, the empty, cold void that had been on the other side of the golden string that had laid dormant in her chest filled, light and fire filling her chest.

But Y/n turned her head away.

She was not someone he should have even talked to in the first place. She was far beneath his level. He would not forfeit his throne for her. And she could not forfeit the simplicity of her life for him.

They were simply not meant to be.

And the light that had just reached her slowly diminished, the life going eerily quiet. She knew she hurt him, but she could do nothing to fix him, even as her chest started filling with numbness, anger and resentment pouring in from the other side.

With one last glance, Y/n sprinted away, back to the little hut she shared with her father.

She would never be able to forget that look on his face. The hrd angels that seemed accentuated by the weeks worth of stubble on his jaw, the fury that seemed to age him another century.

But they were never meant to be.

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A Crown fit for a God (Part 4)

Part 3

Pairing: Azriel x Fem Reader

Ch Summary: A glimpse into how you stumbled upon The Autumn Court, your relationship with Eris and how you fell into Luciens bed.

And/or

Azriel’s jealousy might destroy any chances he has in getting close to you.

word count: 7.4k

Series warnings: 18+ MDNI, SMUT, angst, hurt/comfort, war, including injuries, fighting, no use of y/n, nicknames, magic, greek mythology, pining, jealousy, soft Az with a little temper, azriel with other women (sorry), reader with another man (get it friend ; )

A/n: this ch is heavy on the Vanssera brothers but Az does help you towards the end. I'm a daydreamer not a writer so if you see any mistakes that's how I dreamt it. Lol

It was dark when you arrived in the Autumn Court, a blazing phoenix from the sky. Your limbs felt foreign, heavy and unstable like a newborn fawn. Rustling of leaves echoed in your new ears, startling you briefly. Your skin felt unbelievably warm despite the wind chapping your flushed cheeks. This new place had a smell of sulfur and wood. Burning wood. No. Burning flesh. A cough erupted from you as you risked breathing in the air. Your lungs expand with every inhale, followed by another violent cough.

A feminine voice called out to you ‘child open your eyes.’ The darkness soon vanished as shades of orange and amber filled your vision. You sat in the middle of scorched grounds, a ring of fire surrounding you with flames too high to jump over. Your arms and legs blackened from ash and dirt. The ends of your hair burned from the impact along with the threads covering your small frame. A lovely woman stood on the other side of the ring of fire. Panic and wonder in her green eyes, you assume directed at you. She's speaking to you in a language you recognise, but unable to voice your response.

With a wave of her hand she motions you to follow her. Standing on wobbly legs, weak and malnourished from your journey, you stumble towards her. Through the high flame you emerge, unburnt and to her surprise uninjured. “Come inside child. Let's get you bathed and safe,” she insists, wrapping you in her warm words and caring eyes. She introduces herself as Marrian, The Lady of Autumn, wife to Lord Beron of the Autumn Court. You told her your name as well but she quickly decided to keep your true identity a secret and gave you an alias instead. She explains that this cabin is a refuge for her and her eldest son Eris, though his visits have become scarce. After you've bathed and your body temperature has returned to normal, neither hot nor cold, she offers you a warm meal and insists you stay the night.

Throughout the years living in the small cabin became your home. Lady Autumn treated you like the daughter she never had. She taught you how to wield your fire magic and it was through that training that you both discovered you possessed more than just fire. You were omnipotent. Unlimited power surged through your veins just as it had before you fell into these lands. She had warned you, begged you to never show your true powers.

Males of this world were ruthless, lords and kings would take and take till you were nothing but ash beneath their boots. You found out how evil lords could be when Lady Autumn returned to the cabin. Her pale skin littered with purple and blue bruises. Dried blood caked her knees and elbows. Her oldest son Eris carried her to bed, teary eyed and blood stained as well. “I promise I'll kill them all.” Eris' voice cracked as he said those words, his mothers broken body haunting him, leaving a bitter taste of his family in his mouth. He’d do anything for her, even killing his own father for her safety. It wouldn’t be easy killing his father or his brothers. The high lord had an army at his disposal and if any of his brothers suspected Eris was the reason for their fathers untimely death, he’d be killed. And by default his mother as well. “I promise I’ll help you,” you added with fire in your eyes and revenge in your blood. “ A bargain then,” he confirmed. Death was coming for them. Death was here.

Many moons ago

You had met all of Lady Autumn's sons but only one really stood out to you. At least only one you wanted to know on a deeper level. Lucien. He had a way with words that was kind yet sarcastic and witty. His humor being the reason your cheeks always tinted the deepest red. He was incredibly handsome, tall and lean and to your surprise so much warmer than the other brothers. It was warm out when Mirrian requested for her carriage to be well equipped for her outing to the farmlands, where she’d try her way to ease the stressed farmers. This brought you to the outer stables, where the horses were being prepped for their journey. Immediately you took sight of Lucien, a worried look on his brow as he paced back and forth, biting his lips raw. “Lucien? Is everything alright?” you questioned, concern in your tone as you approached him.

Lucien immediately straightened, “Oh it’s nothing to worry yourself over, just…..I promised a friend one of Mist’s foals and it seems neither will make it.” Mist was the mare to Eris' Stallion, Blue. They had bred them as both were of a champion line, hoping to strengthen the lineage. Just as you were going to reply a young stable boy rushed towards Lucien, breathless with how quick he was running, “She’s passed Lord, the foal too I’m afraid.” Lucien sighed as he looked to the ground, a look of sadness on his face. “Perhaps I could help?” Both Lucien and the young boy looked at you with bewilderment. “Don’t be silly, the boys are more than strong enough to dig-”

“I don’t mean to bury them, Lucien.” You looked to the boy then, “take me to them please.” The young boy looked to Lucien for approval and with a nod you both followed. Lucien trailed behind you, letting his eyes admire you without your knowledge. At one point his step fell in sync with yours. His arms swung with each step, often grazing his hand with yours. Each touch earns a flush to your cheeks paired with a shy smile. Lucien takes notice and in an act of courage takes your small hand within his, lacing your fingers together.

The stable is set up in rows, where each stall is supplied with straw bedding for comfort, fresh clean water and auto feeders. Lucien placed his hand at the small of your back, gently guiding you to Mists’ stall. Her and the foal were laying still among the straw bedding, their eyes closed like if they were just sleeping. Kneeling beside Mist, you began to pet her silky golden mane.

Since arriving in Autumn you hadn’t used this particular power, its presence slowly dissipating. You often wondered if you still had it. You gave her a gentle kiss along her muzzle, the first step to bringing her back. Lucien and the boy stared in awe, not quite sure what to make of your actions. You then brought your hands to cup over your nose and mouth, breathing into them the air from your lungs. The same air that you hope would work its way into Mist. With your breath trapped between your palms you began pumping your palms together like the thump thump of a beating heart. For each 3 pumps you’d rub your hands together, creating a spark of blue dazzling light.

Lucien gasped as he witnessed the light orb grow bigger and bigger until it was the size of Mists heart. He wondered what words you spoke into the orb as it grew and grew, he’d have many questions for you after this. Questions he’s not sure he was ready to hear. Once the ancient words were spoken into the orb you held it gently in your hands, its glow reflecting off your galaxy eye.

Lucien took notice that throughout this whole experience both your eyes had changed to the colors of the night sky, shades of blue and violet mixed with sparkling starlight. Perhaps your pale eye had other uses as well. With one hand you carried the orb towards Mists’ chest, right where her heart lay still. And the other hovering over her head. You looked to Lucien and the young boy, “no sudden movements, and please cover your ears.”

Lucien's brows furrowed in question, but he did as you requested. So did the boy.

Once you saw that their ears were covered you spoke the following words and hoped that your primordial power was still alive.

“I am Khaos, creator of the abyss and all that the sun touches. Death has taken your hand but I hold onto the other, for your journey has not ended. Hold onto me like the night holds the moon, and I’ll light your way.”

The orb held in your hand suddenly let out a flash of light so bright it could illuminate up the night sky. The light flickered after that intune to the rhythm of a beating heart. Lucien's eyes almost fell from their sockets as he saw what looked like electrical current coming from your fingertips, sending a signal to Mists head, to her brain. Lucien hesitantly looked away from your magical hands and his gaze landed on your beautiful face. Your brows were furrowed in deep concentration, sweat began to trail along your hairline. Your eyes remained open, the galaxy within them orbiting like the earth revolves around the sun. He could tell something was amiss because your jaw was clenched tight and the force you were using to push the light inside her heart was visible in the tremble of your arms.

Dark heavy clouds had covered the blue sky, bringing a violent wind to blow across the Court. Its roar slammed into the high trees and rattled everything in its wake. You had tried with all your might to push the light orb into the horse's chest to revive her heart, but Death was fighting back. You were fighting back. A battle between life and death when you possessed the power of both. Your Life power was taking the backseat as Death became the forefront. Suppress. You needed to suppress that deathly power. A deafening clap of thunder boomed through the stable; blanketing your scream that ripped from your throat as you forcefully shoved the glowing ball of light into Mists’ chest.

Lucien cradled your weak body as you collapsed from the energy you had expelled. “Mother above!” the boy gasped, “she did it Lord. Her chest rises.” Lucien stared at Mist’s chest as she inhaled and exhaled. “Listen to me boy,” Lucien spoke sternly, “you will not speak of what you saw here or I’ll turn you to ash. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand. Not a word.”

“I’ll reward you for your silence, now go.” Lucien tilted his head towards the wide doors, signaling for the boy to leave.

His gaze traveled back to you, pulling your body closer as if you’d suddenly disappear. He studied the features of your beautiful face in awe. With a feather light touch he traced over your eyebrow, down the apple of your soft cheek, and over the cute slope of your nose. His thumb gently pulled at your bottom lip, and he wondered how soft your lips would feel against his. It had been easy to fall for you, your heart too pure and kind. Tending to his mothers wounds and encouraging Eris to be better. A better male compared to Beron and his cruel brothers.

Lucien leaned in, his breath fanning over your lips, inching closer. The tickle of his breathing caressed your eyes open, taking in the handsome man holding you, his warm hand cradling the side of your face. “You're incredible,” he whispered, nothing but wonder in the way he was looking at you. Your lips parted in a wide smile as you bathed in his praise. He was the most beautiful male in all of Autumn, and you wanted him, needed him in ways that made you blush. Lucien noted your longing and decided now more than ever that he wanted you too. Without another thought he crashed his lips to yours, groaning into your mouth as you swiped your tongue along his bottom lip. He kissed with the hunger of a thousand wolves, nipping and grabbing at exposed flesh. He wouldn't have you in the stable, where anyone could watch. “I need you now sweetheart,” he growled, as he lifted your body in his arms, whisking you away to his bed chambers in a smoke cloud of orange and gold. It was true what you had heard.

The males of Autumn did have fire in their blood, at least Lucien did. When you told him you had never laid in another males bed before, he slowed down his hunger to devour you. He took things slow at first, stretching you open with his fingers as he peppered kisses and lapped at your clit till you were a withering mess beneath him. When he finally sheathed himself inside you, his length stretching you deliciously- Lucien knew this wouldn't be a one time thing, couldn't be.

What was once friendly chatter and shy glances quickly turned into a romantic whirlwind of horse rides and stolen kisses. Giggles under his sheets as he blew raspberries on your soft stomach. ‘I love you’ whispered in heavy breaths every time he felt you flutter around his cock. Lucien was adamant in keeping the relationship a secret, afraid of what his brothers or Beron would subject you to if they knew. It didn't matter in the long run, all it took was one dinner for the fairytale to come crumbling down.

~~~~~~~

You were allowed in the forest house as Lady Autumn’s ‘Lady in waiting.’ your role was to accompany her wherever she went, and assist her in daily activities. She had introduced you as “Khaos” which quickly turned to “Aos” over time. An orphan to a High Lord from across the continent she claimed. It was all lies.

This role gave you the chance to map out all entries and exits of the forest house, familiarize yourself with all the guards and what times their rotation were to occur and even where Lord Berons bed chambers were. You noted his schedule from early morning till late evenings. Eyes aware of his house guests and sometimes the topic of conversations. No other guest shocked you as much as when the entire Autumn line found themselves seated next to the King of Hybern. You sat between Eris and Lady Autumn, a rare occurrence to be invited to sit with the family. Lucien decided to sit across from you, to not strain his neck while he admired your beauty in comfort, his other brothers followed suit. At the head of the table, Lord Beron and the King of Hybern sat at opposite ends, showcasing their importance and power even at dinner.

Beef ragout and cheese souffle were passed around in the finest flatware. The flame from the candlesticks placed in the center of the table gave off a warm light, casting Lucien in a God-like glow. For a moment you imagined it was just the two of you, enjoying a night out for the world to see. “Try the grey stuff” Eris spoke from your left, spooning into the pudding like substance. Surely he wouldn't attempt to feed…

Lucien's eyes widened slightly as Eris brought the spoon to your lips. There were too many eyes for him or you to make a scene, so instead he looked away as you parted your lips for the delicious treat. It was an honest mistake humming around the spoon as the flavor melted in your mouth, a sweet sound noticed by Eris as he gently thumbed at the corner of your mouth. Wiping away the frosting that was never there to begin with. Lucien had been looking down and didn’t notice the intent behind the action but apparently Lord Beron did.

“Seems like you’ve caught my son's eye, little one. I wouldn't object to a courtship.” Your gaze quickly went to Lucien, had they known of your relationship? Was that why you were invited to dinner, to finally let the secret be known? You were about to respond when Beron addressed his son, “Eris do you find this female attractive enough to bed?”

“Father!” It was Lucien who interrupted, “surely this conversation isn't appropriate for the dinner table?” Lucien attempted to steer away from the current conversation, anger slowly bubbling to the surface. You remained planted in your seat as everything unfolded before you. Being a female in Autumn where even if you voiced your choice in Lucien, you had no right to even speak on the matter. The females were to marry, obey their male partner and breed an army of children if her husband wished. Since the High Lord mentioned it, then his word was law. You’d be tortured if you went against his wishes, Lucien would be beaten for even suggesting the lack of appropriateness of the conversation. Your gaze landed on Lady Autumn, a silent plea for help in your eyes. She merely smiled, squeezing your hand in comfort. You realize there was nothing she could do, as her makeup barely covered a fading bruise beneath her eye. It wasn’t that Eris had been terrible to you, quite the opposite. He just wasn’t the male you had fallen in love with.

“I do find her desirable, and I would be honored to court her.” Eris’s amber eyes met yours, a look that meant he was sorry for the circumstance the both of you were in. “A toast then,” the King of Hybern stood, “ to the happy couple.” He cheered, raising his glass in the air before he threw his head back, downing the flute of wine.

The High Lord followed as well as Eris and his brothers, leaving you, Lady Autumn and Lucien to stare at each other in trepidation. Lucien was going to be sick, his skin had paled at the thought of you producing an heir for his brother. Eris hands all over your soft skin, how dare he desire what belonged to him. Lucien's jaw was clenched so tight he was going to crack a molar. Unable to voice his anger or pull you away to keep you safe, he stood, shooting daggers dipped in faebane at everyone but you. You stared at your lover as he drank from the flute in one fluid motion.

Blinking back the tears as he threw his head back. His eyes met yours once again, red rimmed pools of honey ready to overflow from heartbreak. You were unable to mask the pain you were in as easily as Lucien. It occurred to you that perhaps he meant more to you than you did to him. With a heavy heart you brought your flute up to your lips, and a lonely tear tracked down your cheek. You didn’t want this life. You didn’t want to be a Death God. You didn’t want to marry Eris. You didn’t want other people making decisions for you. You didn’t want to be forced. Yet you agreed, there was no other way.

“Tears of happiness no doubt,” Eris cooed, gently wiping at the tears that followed after the first. Lucien had never looked at his brother with such raging hatred as he did now. Eris wrapped his arm around your waist, settling his hand on your hip as he tugged you close enough to kiss your temple. His gaze trained on Lucien for a hint of a reaction. Lucien swore he saw Eris smirk.

You didn’t stay long enough for dessert, opting to be alone with your thoughts. Walking aimlessly through the halls of the forest house, you didn't attempt to wipe your tears. There was no point in hiding how hurt you were, no reason to put on a brave face. You passed through a stone archway that led to a balcony, overlooking the canopy of trees that fill the forest floor. Autumn was beautiful, but not as beautiful as the stars that littered the night sky. The stars didn’t shine as bright in Autumn, they looked dull and sparse. Not at all what they looked like from home. You missed home, the space beyond the stars.

Hushed whispers floated to your ears and you quickly hid behind the stone railing that curved the space of the balcony. “- we were able to modify vegetables and fruit with faebane. The results were successful in potency and effectiveness. We can use these samples in farmlands for mass production, and give high doses of faebane through modes of consumption without the individual's knowledge.” You could recognize Lord Berons voice even though he whispered. “Once we remove the Night Court's High Lord the rest will fall.”

You attempted to peek over the railing, needing to know who he was speaking to, who else you needed to kill. “You’ll become High King of Prythian and keep your title as King of Hybern.” It couldn't be, you felt panic rising up your throat. The King of Hybern and Lord Beron in an alliance? You needed to tell Eris. Your bargain to assist Eris in killing Autumn's High Lord just became more difficult.

Quickly trekking back through the halls you found yourself in front of Eris bed chambers. You knocked softly at his door, hoping he’d still be awake at this time of night. Shuffling on the other side. you heard him near. Opening the door with a soft click, “what do I owe the pleasure?” he purred as he stared down at you. His chest was completely exposed, toned with a light dusting of freckles, similar to Lucien. Your eyes traced down his carved abs, noticing his narrow hips and how dangerously low his night pants hung. You averted your eyes, focusing on the slight curve of his mouth instead. “I have something to tell you..In private, please.” You don’t know why you were suddenly nervous in front of the princeling. “Is everything alright?” he asked with softness in his tone as his back pressed against the door frame, leaving just enough space for you to squeeze by. Still facing the future Heir you walked over the threshold, your chest grazing his warm body as you slid into his room. Eris' head thumped against the frame, ‘control yourself’ he thought, as the brush of your breasts along his chest had left him breathless.

Explaining in full detail what you heard between The King and Lord Beron took longer than anticipated. Eris took every bit of information and wrote down possible outcomes and strategies to counter the mass production of faebane. On top of killing his father another player had entered the game and now Eris' work to bring down his father had doubled to now needing to bring The King of Hybern down as well.

Eris didn’t know how long he stayed hovered over his desk, but when he finally turned towards his bed and noticed your sleeping form, dawn was fast approaching. He didn’t have the heart to wake you, opting to cover your body with his warm sheets. He had no problem sleeping on the couch, respecting you enough to not join you in bed. He’d fallen asleep at the sound of your soft breathing, the sweetest lullaby to grace his ears.

It had been mid day when you both greeted the high sun, bashful in the position you were in. You apologized profusely for falling asleep in the Heirs bed. But he simply waved you off, “nonsense Fawn, what kind of male would I be to rush you off in the middle of the night?” Your cheeks flushed at the pet name as Eris opened the door to his bedroom, letting you pass by easily. You turned to thank him, missing the male that stepped back into the corner of the hall, hiding himself from view. But it was Eris who spoke first, “thank You, for last night. I’d like to see you again.. soon. to talk about,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m really sorry about all this,” he gestured at the air around him. “It's not your fault. We’ll figure it out,” you said through a sigh.

Eris wondered if you would ever forgive him for the way things were turning out, he didn’t want to force your hand. Hadn’t even thought about it, but as he pulled you in and wrapped his arms around you in a warm embrace, and inhaling the scent of your hair he was right where he wanted to be. Even though nothing intimate transpired that night, Lucien's imagination planted a rotten seed as he witnessed you leaving Eris bedroom. Eris' hold on you lasted too long to be a friendly hug and the flush on his brother's bare chest told a different story. Lucien decided then that he no longer wanted to be in Autumn, he’d branch out to other courts, and take you with him. But first he needed to speak with Eris.

Present

The rays of the morning sun cracked through the window, and once again you found your side of the bed empty. Loneliness has been a better lover to you than the future Heir. Before you had left to seek out the other Dead Gods; Eris only visited the cottage to see his mother and make love to you.

You hoped things would be different once you returned, but he hardly stayed the night and he was usually gone by morning. You’d never admit his absence made you feel used, causing more pain than you wanted.

After Lucien you vowed to never care for another male again. Never give your heart out willingly. From your experience everything they touched seemed to break, crumble, and wither. They hurt the women they claimed to love and protect, only for them to be beaten and assaulted. Traded to the Highest Lord in exchange for an alliance or merely because the female had the hips and cunt to breed powerful heirs, and that wouldn't happen to you. You wouldn't be touched with careless hands when you so beautifully crafted the very soil they walked on and the fresh air they breathed.

After your morning shower you find yourself searching the cupboards for your contraceptive tea. Placed high above the eyeline, away from Eris and Marrian. You had taken the tea without Eris’ knowledge. He wanted you to carry his child; it would be under your terms and only when you wanted. The decision to bear children would be out of love and with someone whom you formed a relationship organically, not like it had been with Eris.

You found no tea in the cottage. Not even healing salves for your wounded wing from your attack days ago, another injury unnoticed by Eris. You didn’t have the necessary ingredients for either so you traveled through the forest searching for the particular herbs. You could have gone to a healer for your wounds but not for the tea. Loyal to the court, merchants would talk and the last thing you needed was Lord Beron finding out and throwing you in a cell for insubordination. Contraception was hard to come by in Autumn, another rule placed by controlling males.

You were in deep concentration, biting at your fingernails trying to think of the last ingredient for the tea. When a sneaky shadow wrapped itself around your waist, squeezing you tightly just as one would for a hug. You stumbled back at the force in which the shadow had rushed to you. But you were met with a hard muscular surface and gentle hands that held onto your hips for stability. You then felt the cool caress of Azriel's breath across your neck, “You haven't healed your wing yet, any reason why?” He asked. Still in his hold, you quickly turned to face him, a little shocked to see him still in The Autumn Court so close to your cottage. “What are you doing here? How did you find me? Oh my Gods you're going to get killed.” You fire off question after question, glancing behind him and all around in a frenzy of panic and caution. Azriel follows your hurried gaze from left to right, amused in your nervousness.

“Answer my question first and I'll answer yours, deal?” Azriel suggests with a smirk.

“Ughh, fine. Not here though, come on.”

Azriel stifles a laugh as you pull him by the hand, a large overgrown bat following a pretty girl like a lost puppy. You lead him to a giant hollowed out tree trunk, the inside large enough for you both to sit without being seen. Azriel sits on a thick twisted root that's sprouted from the ground, his knees touching yours as you sit opposite of him.

“So what are you doing here?” You begin.

Azriel chuckles, “nope, you answer me first.”

You sigh and roll your eyes, “I’ve forgotten how to heal,” you mumble softly. Azriel scratches at his temple, brows furrowed in clear confusion, “I'm sorry, did you say you've forgotten how to heal?”

“Yes, I have forgotten how to heal, now answer my questions.” you crossed your arms over your chest, adamant in knowing what the hell Azriel was doing in your neck of the woods.

“But how did you forget? People forget names and faces, not how to use their power, “ he prods, striking an exposed nerve that puts you on edge.

“ You know what, forget it. I’m in a hurry, I don't have time to play games with you. I already told-”

“Alight, alright. I’m sorry. Will you at least let me help you?”

You narrow your eyes at him, suspicious of his intentions. “Why?”

This was going to be harder than Azriel thought, “I just….I’d like to repay the favor to someone who did a good thing.”

You scoff with a shake of your head. He was unbelievable, but you allowed him to help. It would be a stretch to reach your wing let alone change the bandage. You handed Azriel your satchel with all the supplies you had gathered. He took each item out and laid them out, recognizing each leaf and its purpose.

Azriel immediately notices the list of ingredients scribbled on a note paper in your bag. At the top of the list are the three herbs needed for the contraceptive tea. His eyes widen as they shoot to your pretty face and down to your womb. Nightshade, only found in The Night Court was missing from your bag. One of the many herbs imported to the other courts for distribution. You wouldn't find it in Autumn’s forest.

His jealousy flared slightly as he couldn't imagine another male touching you, seeing your naked figure bare for someone else. He shouldn't be jealous, you don't belong to him, but every ounce of his body is screaming for your attention. Any ounce of affection you're willing to give, Azriel would gladly accept.

Azriel doesn't notice when you remove your top. Keeping your breasts covered with your arms wrapped around your chest, you nestle between his spread legs, wings displayed beautifully like angels from the heavens. His breath hitches as your backside grazes against his crotch, the close proximity doing nothing to settle his nerves. Your skin looks soft and delicate, he almost doesn't want to taint you with his scarred hands.

But the urge to touch you overpowers his negative thoughts and he takes the first steps in removing your bandage. He’s about to caress your wing when he suddenly remembers the sensitivity of his own, “Illyrian wings are very sensitive in this area, I’m about to remove the bandage, I just want to make sure you're comfortable.” You peek over your shoulder giving him a shy smile at his thoughtfulness, “they’re sensitive too, based on the type of touch and pressure. But it’s the only way.” He nods in understanding, and the first glide of his fingers against your skin startles you. “Sorry,” he winces, quickly removing his hands. “It’s Ok, I just wasn't expecting..” You weren't expecting his tortured hands to carry such a tender touch. You couldn’t tell him that, not sure what he would think, “you can continue, please.”

Azriel resumes his attempt at removing the bandage, gently pulling back the adhesive holding against your skin. It was a sick kind of torture having this handsome male care for you in a way that no one ever has, his careful touch is delicate and soft despite his rough exterior. Each brush against your skin felt like a sweet kiss between lovers, healing not only your skin but the broken pieces of your soul. You let yourself relax under his touch, memorize the feel of careful hands nurturing you. Making you whole not only physically but mentally. In your blissful state a soft moan slips past your lips when his fingers glide over the space between your wings. Azriel smiles at the sound, wishing to be the reason for every sinful noise out of your mouth.

Azriel fills the silence in hopes to hush any more sweet sounds that may arouse him.“To answer your question, my shadows seem to be very fond of you. And they’ve been able to track you easily. I’m not really sure why or how but they pick up on your scent, and I just… from the last time we…” Azriels cheeks flush as he remembers your last encounter, “Why aren't you happy?” He’d thought about your previous conversation and how you mentioned you weren’t happy. The admission plagued his mind, wondering what weighed so heavy on your heart that happiness was no longer on the table. And the way you said it so casually made it seem you haven't been happy for a long long time.

You’re about to dismiss his question, your life is none of his business but something in the way he's touching you allows you to be vulnerable.

“I’m unhappy because I’ve lost my way home. Each time I die and resurrect, I come back forgetting a piece of myself, powers I once had are temporarily gone, or I don’t recognize the people around me. I’m just trying to find my way back, but I can’t seem to remember. Nothing is keeping me here but my mission to bring Death to this realm, and the many bargains Ive made in search of home. I have no family to keep me here. No worthy lovers. I feel stuck in a place that only sees me as a tool for their personal gain, And I’m tired of the confinement.”

Your voice wobbles, as you explain the depth of your pain. He knows too well the feeling of not belonging, the loneliness weighing heavy on one's shoulders. Your memory loss after each death explains his earlier question; the reason you don’t remember him and the reason you couldn't heal yourself.

He can’t see your face, but he notices your hand coming up to wipe away your fallen tears. Selfishly he doesn't want you to part from his world. His feelings for you are already so strong, he couldn't bear a life knowing you weren't in it. The Mother was cruel in her ways, he had just found you after 500 yrs only to reach you on your way out. But he’d choose your happiness over his every time.

He listens intently as you reminisce about your home. How large the moon looks from your humble throne, its proximity so close you can fly to its surface. The brilliant stars that shine brighter year after year, their vibrancy thawing the coldest of hearts. Sapphire and violet swirls of the milky way, a visual so stunning it leaves you breathless. A longing sigh passes between your lips, shoulders deflate slightly. “I’m sorry for unloading all that on you,” you shake your head, info dumping was never your intention. “Can you tell me what your home is like? I really liked the stars in The Night Court. It’s one of the reasons I stayed longer than I should have.”

“You don’t ever have to apologize for how you feel,” he says, as he continues to apply the healing salve, its cooling properties taming the angry laceration. “The Night Court is very similar to how you describe your home.” A slight blush travels up his neck, “I’d like to show you where I live, See how you like it there. I think you’d find it more home like than any other Court,” Azriel flusters as he mumbles the words out.

“I’m not sure how that would work out. I seem to have angered your High Lord.” You lift a shoulder in a shrug, “but thank you for the offer.” Azriel hadn’t thought how Rhys would behave if he knew you were a guest in the very city you threatened. How the Inner Circle would perceive you. What kind of High Lord would that make him if he did allow you to visit Velaris. Rhys head wasn’t shoved that far up his ass, was it?

“Will you allow me to help you find happiness then?”

His question has you shocked. He feels it in the way your wings have straightened and slightly flared. No one has bothered to ask if you were happy, let alone help you seek said happiness, certainly not someone you barely knew. Something about this male was different. Special, even. In a world where death and violence was in every court, usually brought on by males. This one had a thoughtful heart. Where men took from you, Azriel had given. He’d offered his services to kill for you. Offer his body to worship you. He offered his scarred masculine hands and willed them to be delicate and soft if only to heal the damaged pieces of a goddess. And now he knocked at the gates of your guarded heart willing to weather the storm in pursuit of your happiness for nothing in return. Those wrought iron gates flashed gold with every rap, Its faint pulse crashes against your heart like a violent wave, pummeling jagged rocks along the coast.

Azriel was everything you had ever wanted in a male and it scared you more than anything.

Then you remembered the words spoken by The Suriel, ‘An invisible thread that weaves and winds, binding hearts two of a kind.’

No. You wouldn’t allow your emotions to get the best of you, so you shut them down.

Azriel stilled. His deep heavy breathing suddenly the only sound that could be heard. His hands trembled in his lap. He felt it, the golden pull towards you. It was as if he was watching himself from above, gripping those iron bars so tightly his knuckles turned white, gold spreading beneath his palms coating the iron, bar by bar. But then you pushed. And he watched as your heart frosted over in stone and cold Ice, protecting itself from breaking. The iron gates doubled down, forging a firewall of blue and orange flame. He would need to jump through fire and ice to even get to you.

“There's a book, well two books I’ve been looking for. They contain the spell I need to remember my past and to go home. Book of The Minds Eye and The Book of Breathings.” It was dangerous telling Azriel, but you had exhausted every option. Bryaxis would look In Velaris Library for The Minds Eye, and if he found it he’d give it to you when you both met in the coming war and his bargain would be done. But the book of breathings was impossible to find. If he knew where to look, then it was worth telling him.

Azriel blinked back to reality confused. Did you not feel the undeniable pull? or maybe you did but you closed off, blocked it. Wait. Was that…Azriel slammed his eyes shut, willing to go back to that place, wherever it was, drag his body across glass and gravel, he didn't care. Hell he’d jump through hoops of fire if it meant you got to be his. All he saw was vast emptiness.

“Did you feel that tug?” Azriel longed for that connection, and had been looking for it his entire life. At one point he felt unworthy of such deep love. Jealousy gripped him so hard he began to resent his brothers for finding their mate. But as he saw how happy and whole they were, their joy had bounced off and with time he welcomed their delight. The Mother it seems skipped him or she didn’t deem him worthy. Perhaps it was the manner of work he was in, who would love such a soul who tortured people. Would his chosen one stomach his work and still desire to be in his presence? He had a feeling you were his chosen one, you had to be with how much he thought of you. Even after all these years searching it had to mean something in the end right? There had to be a reason he couldn't get you out of his head.

“I didn’t feel anything at all. I can tell you’ve tended to many injuries, your hands are very gentle.”

“Oh,” Azriel glanced at your fresh bandage, “your wound. Right. It's cleaned and I applied the salve and new bandage.” he couldn't help the sadness in his tone. He was wrong. Of course he was wrong, you were a Death God and what would a God want with him? You kindly asked him to turn around so you could pull your top back on, “good as new I’d say.” You shot him with a wide smile, flexing your wings, showcasing their movement despite the taut feeling of the bandage.

He nodded in agreement, “you were saying something about a book?”

Azriel caught some of the information as you retold what you were looking for, his mind weaving in and out. Thoughts between this book you were in search of and that lingering feeling deep within his chest. He was startled to hear Rhys' voice in his mind suddenly, ‘We’ve been invited to the Day Court In celebration of Helion’s Birthing Day. Wrap up your findings and report at once. With or without the girl, Mor’s returned with her findings.’

Azriel followed you out of the hollowed tree, pacing back and forth anxiously, “There's this celebration in another court. I was hoping you’d attend. With.. with me? They have multiple libraries and Helion he’s a spell cleaver, I’m sure he’d allow you to visit the-”

You cut off his rambling, a clear attempt at convincing you to the Day Court. “Are you asking me on a date shadowsinger?”

The flush across his cheeks was adorable for an illyrian his size, “ Yes!” he confirmed, “I’d be honored to have you on my arm.”

Gods you wanted to accept and forget about your duties even for a night. You’d be working for Lady Autumn, ensuring her safety in secret as well as attending to her needs. “I’ll be in attendance. But I'm afraid I’ll be on someone else’s arm.”

“Someone else? Who?” He asked, trying to calm his racing heart from its imminent break.

“Eris Vanserra.”

He should have stopped and stayed silent as his eyes darted to your bag. But his thoughts came spewing out of his mouth in anger, and once again he’d let his jealousy take over. “You’re fucking him! That's why you’re looking for contraceptive tea, I saw it in your bag.” Not a question but a statement.

“Who I fuck is none of your business!” You spat with equal rage, power surging through your veins clouding the once bright sky in gloom.

Azriel scoffs, and with a nasty bitter tone he landed a blow so low even his shadows recoiled, “how could you say you loved lucien and then fuck his brother? No wonder he left you!”

Immediate.

Regret.

Your face crumbles in pain as his words form a dagger and slice at your beating heart. As if sensing your sorrow, a roar of thunder echoed nearby, threatening to unleash its ferocity.

“Shit! I’m sorry. Please… I didn’t” Azriel inches forward. You step back, eyeing him slowly from head to toe and back up again, nothing but loathing and hurt in your cold stare. You remained silent but all Azriel heard through the agony in your beautiful face was ‘you aren't worth my time.’

“I don't expect you to understand the sacrifices one has to make when you're in love, when no one has ever loved you! And the next time you decide to disrespect me, I'll be sure to remind you how vile a Death God can be.”

You didn’t bother to look back at him as you walked away.

Part 5

A/N: Thanks for taking the time to read, I really appreciate it. :)

taglist: @blackgirlmagicforever @going-through-shit @dr4g0ngirl @mybestfriendmademe @isa1b2h3 @julesofvolterra @scooobies @thisblogisaboutabook @lilah-asteria

[clockwork-ashes]

Day 5 - War | Adventure

Note: for day 5 of @erisweekofficial <3 this is my last gen eris fic for this week, but i have loved writing him and lucien!!! also a HUGE thank you to the lovely @speakingintothesilence for the writing prompt!!! i hope you like it <3

Summary: Eris takes Lucien with him on an adventure into the Autumn Court woods, expecting the trip to brighten his brother’s mood (one-shot). Read also on Ao3 <3

The fire flickered, dancing as it switched from a deep orange to a bright yellow, only to return to a more muted colour once more. Embers flared off the logs, looking like shooting stars in the darkness of the cave. 

Every time Lucien moved, Eris noticed that his shadow transformed into a menacing creature on the stone walls. It seemed as though his hands had claws, his back hunched like a predator ready to pounce. 

Perhaps it was because Lucien was sitting in a way that had him curled in on himself, Eris thought. His youngest brother’s legs were bent up towards his chest and he was resting his elbows on his knees. The small knife in his hand was sharp, the pointed tip easily cutting into the thick piece of wood in his hands.

Eris and Lucien had spent the entire morning hiking through the forest, searching for one of the many dangerous beasts that prowled the territory and tormented the local towns and cities. Eris could admit that it was difficult to hunt effectively with a child, but he had never minded the company. At a decade and a half, Lucien still seemed little to him, despite the young male’s consistently growing list of responsibilities. 

An adventure in the woods.  

Lucien had grumbled the words sarcastically as they had left the Forest House, weapons in hand. Eris had cast him a questioning look that had been ignored, and he had never been one to push his brothers to share their emotions. 

When the morning had passed almost entirely in a fraught silence, none of them speaking, Eris had suggested they stop near the caves so they could find something to eat. 

The fish Eris had easily caught were wrapped in leaves and thrown over the fire as he considered what might be making Lucien so miserable. 

They used to come to the caves close to Winter’s border often when Lucien was a boy. It was the perfect place to escape to when the Forest House became too much, and the crowd of nobles in the capital became too suffocating. No one bothered them, and it was easy to forget the fast paced and ruthless rhythms of court life. 

Eris had not taken Lucien to the caves with him in over a year, and it had been months since they had even seen each other. Beron liked pushing his oldest sons across the territory to handle power independently. Eris had been responsible for the large piece of land that bordered Spring for centuries, and with the Hybern general constantly attempting to strike an alliance with the courts of Prythian, Eris had been busy.  

In the time since he had last seen Lucien, the boy seemed to have grown significantly. He was much taller now, his frame much too large and lanky as his muscles struggled to keep up with the change in height. He was letting his hair grow out, the dark strands tied back neatly in a loose braid. His bright russet eyes still seemed a bit too big for his face, giving him the impression of innocence. 

It was almost startling to see Lucien’s almost always smiling lips pulled down in a frustrated frown. Even Pyrrhus, who wagged his tail and pressed his snout into the boy’s side was not enough to change his attitude. 

There was a mist of anger around Lucien. He had reluctantly agreed to come hunting when Callum had asked. His disappointment had been clear as river water when Callum told them he would not be joining, upon their father’s request. 

Eris sighed from where he sat, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck before he addressed Lucien. “What are you carving?” 

The question hung in the air for a moment. Lucien tossed the knife and the piece of wood to the ground where it knocked against the dry earth with a clatter. “Nothing,” he clipped. 

Eris looked at him with a raised brow. The silence stretched, awkward and uncomfortable. Fire was not the only thing between them. 

Lucien looked away first, an angry flush high on his cheekbones. The flames flared with a resounding crack, the pressure building until the logs had no choice but to snap in protest. 

Eris said nothing. He had learned from trial and error that it was usually best to let Lucien filter through his thoughts before engaging in an argument.

“It’s not fair,” Lucien said, his face red as the words fell in an angry hiss between his teeth. “You come and go and expect everything to be as it was when you left, it’s not.” 

Eris tensed at the words, wondering what he might have missed in his absence. Beron usually left Lucien alone, hardly engaging with the boy unless it was to chastise him. When he was younger, Eris had hoped that Lucien’s infectiously happy demeanour might affect the High Lord. Even their father was not immune to the natural charm and joy he brought into every room he entered. His hopes had been thoroughly crushed as Beron grew more harsh as time passed. 

“You’re never home anymore,” Lucien accused. The outburst breaking free like a wave against the shore, sudden and not entirely welcome, like he had been holding it in for a while. 

Eris tensed, taken aback by the statement. “So?” 

Lucien wiped a hand across his eyes roughly, and Eris realised belatedly that he was crying. “Doesn’t matter,” he mumbled, his voice strained. 

The guilt nearly choked Eris, he felt unwell, the full weight of what Lucien had said finally setting in. He clumsily and inelegantly moved along the ground so that he could be next to him. He had no idea what he was doing and wished that Callum was with them. He was close enough to Lucien that their knees were touching. 

His brother sniffled, looking in the other direction but not pulling away.  

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” Eris winced at how rough his words were, almost as if they were an order rather than a question. 

Lucien shook his head, still unable to face Eris, but he leaned onto his eldest brother heavily. 

Eris decided that was good. 

“I’m not a daemati,” he said softly, trying his best to sound like Callum. There was no doubt in Eris’s mind that the third born Vanserra would have known what to do. Raised by their maternal grandmother in Xian during the war, he was the only one of them that Eris could describe as kind.

Beron was always irritated by it. 

Lucien shrugged, his shoulder shifting against Eris weakly. “It’s not important, not really,” he breathed out, no longer angry.

“Could you…maybe you can tell me first and then I’ll decide.” Eris nearly cringed at how awkward he sounded. He would have liked to have thrown himself into a river and simply sink like a stone to the bottom for eternity.

Eris was always surprised with how little convincing Lucien needed to open up about his feelings. He expressed with furrowed brows how Felix did not seem to like him, and how Ronan ignored him. Their other two brothers verged on treating him with cruelty, and Eris had to hold back a growl as he listened. Lucien explained how Callum was the only person in the Forest House who understood. “I like it better when you’re home,” Lucien continued. “Without you… I don’t know. Sometimes I don’t feel like I belong.” He looked up at Eris with wide russet eyes, nearly pleading with him to help him understand. 

“Listen to me,” Eris urged after he was sure Lucien was finished getting it all off his chest. “You’re one of us, for better or for worse.” With a gesture he had no idea he was capable of, Eris gently wiped at a stray tear on his youngest brother’s cheek. “So never change, Lucien, not for the likes of anyone.” 

Eris watched as he considered the words carefully, could practically see them spinning around his skull. Lucien finally smiled up at him, his eyes glowing gold for the briefest of moments before he held his shoulders back a bit more confidently. “Thanks, Eris.” 

Daylight. 

Eris ignored the small spark of foreign magic, choosing instead to playfully ruffle Lucien’s hair. He watched as the boy grinned, unguarded and no longer upset. While Eris was beyond praying to the Mother, he silently begged whatever higher power might be listening that the Autumn Court did not break his brother’s spirit. 

[fieldofdaisiies]

read below for a small snippet | read the whole fic on ao3 | masterlist

“I'm waiting up, saving all my precious time Losing light, I'm missing my same old us Before we learned our truth too late Resigned to fate, fading away” (Lewis Capaldi)

His head rests heavy against the doorframe, eyes downcast, burning with unshed tears, his heart yearning for what shall never be his. Her.

Beron‘s voice resonates throughout the room, loud and harsh, resembling the slaps that Eris is often victim to. The heir lifts his head, watching in horror how she is becoming the centre of Beron‘s anger. Ada. The High Lord‘s scribe. Eris‘ mate. Although the latter information is secluded only for Eris. Ada just like everyone else should never find out – the risk that comes along with it is not worth taken. No one can find out. Especially not Beron. Not after what had been done to little Lucien’s lover. It‘s not worth it. Her life is his priority. Always.

“Focus!” Beron barks and smacks his palm flat onto the table. The female in the chair in front of him shivers. Visibly cowering beneath the High Lord. Her hand is shaking, holding the black pen tightly clasped in her hand, knuckles white.

Fury, burning hot anger, blazes through Eris‘ veins and he straightens his posture, then rolls back his shoulders, almost as if getting into a fighting stance. 

Ada has noticed the movement. She lifts her chin the slightest bit and her eyes of hazel brush Eris‘. He can’t place the emotion he sees there and before he can discern it, her chin lowers and she continues to write.

“Faster,” Beron commands them. He straightens up, turns away from her to walk to the window in his office. “Such a disgraceful female should be lucky that she gets to work for me, don’t make me regret hiring you. And you—” He spins on his heels, gaze sharp and piercing as it lands on his oldest. “You are dismissed, Eris.”

“But father—”

“But father,” Beron mocks with a sneer. “I said you are dismissed, now get out of my sight.” His voice is loud that Ada cowers, knuckles turning white from how tightly she clasps the writing feather in her pale hand.

“Out!” Eris only takes one step back and the door falls shut behind him, or rather right into his face. But he won’t give up so easily.

continue on ao3

Eris x OC tags: @sunshinebingo @tarataraaaa @brekkershadowsinger @azriels-mate123 @mandziaaa @cosmic-whispers @elsie-bells @imma-too-many-fandoms @kuraikei @ginnyweasley06  @bubnix  @powerfulpantera @secret-third-thing @bookishbroadwaybish @mali22 @elsie-bells @the-darkestminds @jules-writes-stories @mistandmemories @brunetterebel010 @chunkypossum

@erisweekofficial💛

[readychilledwine]

Hello!! I recently found your blog and I love your writing! I was looking at the writing prompts and I fell in love with the touch starved ones.

I was wondering if you could write a Eris or Tarquin x f reader for “the reaching out with their hand without saying anything, wanting the other one to grab it”? I love both males so which ever one is easier for you. But I love the idea of like a stoic reader but the male knows they like physical affection as long as the reader doesn’t look needy.

Thanks in advance and Happy Holidays :)

Take my Hand

Warning - I changed a little bit of the High Lords meeting because THEY ALL WERE TOO NICE. I love Rhysand, Feyre, and the Night Court, but Kal and Tarquin were way too nice for people who felt their courts were personally targeted by Rhys (Kal especially), self doubt, Beron

A/n - the man in that gift has delicious forearms. I just know it. Ps- I know the fandom as a whole wants to push this narrative that Beron is ugly, but you're calling my book one Lulu ugly when you do that. SJM specifically says Lucien's face in that book is similar to Beron's. I think we all need to face the reality that the man is attractive. He's just a dick and that ruins it.

You were drowning.

High Lord's meetings were not your cup of tea, and they never had been.

Maybe it was your young age, rivaled only by your mate's. Maybe it was the amount of loud males yelling and throwing insults that reminded you far too much of your power-hungry father. Maybe it was just that you were "a sleepy girl," as your mate always so lovingly suggested when you'd rest on his chest.

But this just wasn't your scene.

You rolled your eyes, keeping that bored mask in place as Rhysand went into yet another long dragged out monolog about how he wasn't the monster you all believed he was. It was his third one in less than an hour.

You felt Tarquin look at you from the corner of his eye.

Despite how much you hated being here, you loved him, Gods did you love him. And he needed you.

There were arguments from every delegation of who has the most handsome High Lord. You saw beauty in all of them, though.

Tamlin for his flowing golden hair and piercing green eyes.

Helion for that smirk, his skin that was so flawless you had begged him countless times for his skincare routine.

Kallias was the vision of untouched beauty. He looked like freshly fallen snow.

Thesan for his sharp casual wardrobe, his untouched skill and intelligence, his kind eyes.

Rhysand for being the beauty of night itself. Dark inky hair on golden sun kissed skin. Eyes that held the cosmos like he knew all their secrets.

Even Beron, the oldest of them, had looks that held wisdom as he aged like a fine wine before all of you.

But Tarquin, none of them could hold a candle to. His white hair contrasting against his skin, those ocean eyes, his voice.

You had won the mating lottery with him in looks alone.

But it was his kindness, the one trait so many mistook for weakness, that made you truly fall for him. His kindness and his observational skills.

Tarquin's brows knitted, mouthing a soft "Are you okay?"

You only responded with a smile and small eye roll as Rhys began claiming he had not slaughtered the children in Winter. That another unknown daemati had, and he had convinced Amarantha to do that instead of murdering Kal. All before trying to garner sympathy.

You set your wine glass down a little harder than intended at that. Annoyed that he had an excuse for everything. That he blame shifted everything he had been confronted with so far. Kal rose a brow at you, then smirked. "I believe even, y/n, thinks you are full of shit, Rhysand."

You looked down instantly, cheek heating as everyone's gaze fell toward you. "Would you like to say something?" Thesan spoke gently to you. "Perhaps you can shed some light on the situation in the Summer Court?"

You felt it then. The soft tug on the bond as Tarquin held his hand out to you.

He didn't mean to make you look or feel weak. He didn't mean to make it look like he was reigning you in. He meant it to comfort you. To bring you back to him. Back to this moment. This critical meeting that could decide the fate of your court. Your home. His fae. Fae you two had been spending so much time bring to break the social standards with. Fae you were just earning the trust of.

He offered you his hand as his love, as his support, and as a grounding tool. You took it silently, body easing at the softness and warmth of his fingers and palms.

"You came to our home, and we welcomed you as honored guests," you started slowly, refusing to look at him. "We told you our hopes, the steps we were taking for equality, far taxation, wages, you pretended to care and support us. Then you stole from us. You stole from us when we welcomed you as our friends."

Feyre looked down, guilt now hitting her. You two had grown close quickly. Instant friends who enjoyed each other's company. "We had no choice," Rhysand answered smoothly.

"You could have asked us," Tarquin replied. "You could have told us the truth and asked us. Now you ask us to blindly trust you when you've already done that, and your mate, your Court's High Lady, opened the gate for Hybern to enter my territory out of rage against Tamlin."

Rhys had no response. He was looking to you. "Your only saving grace with me, Rhysand," you felt Tarquin squeeze your hand to calm the wave of emotion going through you, "is the fact that your court is the only one who came when we were attacked. Why did you bother doing that after everything you had done?"

Tarquin hummed his approval softly, another gentle squeeze and tug on the bond.

Rhysand's offer was soft. His voice showing he understood the hurt he had done. The personal damage his actions had caused. "Because that's what friends do."

You sighed, allowing Tarquin to take over as the stoic mask of silence fell back in place. Three squeezed came to your hand. A message you and he had made when you were trapped under that mountain together.

It was a message.

One you felt as you squeezed his hand three times back.

"I love you," it said.

Five squeezes came next, conveying the message you needed, "You are safe. I'm here." You broke that mask. Hand moving up to his bicep and head falling into his shoulder. You didn't listen as Rhys addressed you, your court.

You knew you personally would not forgive them.

But if Tarquin did, you would support him, so long as he kept your hand in his.

[scorpioriesling]

Dangerous Woman (pt 2)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Eris x reader

Warnings: ehh… none

Summary: Now that Eris is finally ready to confront his feelings, will reader do the same?

SR’s Note: My apologies for the wait! I have so many WIPs, requests, multi-part series, etc. right now. I appreciate your patience & continued support <3 Tags: @lilah-asteria @infintyfandoms @peachcontour-blog

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

The soda water is a relief to your pounding headache as the morning progresses, a constant reminder of the night before and just how much alcohol you’d consumed. If not for the headache, the state you were in would surely give it away; smeared makeup, ratty ponytail, the works. Thankfully, you’d rested in your own bed last night, Eris being the gentleman he is escorted you home after your… well…

That in itself was a reminder.

You couldn’t help but smile just a little bit, even though you knew today you’d have to face up to what had happened. It wasn’t the part about wondering if Eris would return his feelings — he’d all but laid them out on a silver tray for you last night. However, would said feelings change when he found out how you’d manipulated him into thinking you were someone else for a sexual experience? Well, yes. That part was rather terrifying.

Usually you’d feel heavier than a ton of bricks trying to drag yourself from bed, but this morning it’s the hope in your heart lulling you to the shower and quickly to your vanity to allot extra time for your primping before work. You knew you’d see him today, you had to be sure you were ready and obviously looked your best. Not that you’d been out drinking and, well, having sex with him the night prior.

Your burgundy milkmaid dress was simplistic but flattering, dipping low enough but not too low to anger the High Lord. Tying a ribbon to match in your curled ponytail and touching up your lip gloss once more, you set off for the Autumn Palace.

ﾟ:* ✧

“These need to be filed immediately.” Beron’s voice was flat as he plopped another hefty stack of papers onto your desk in the East Wing of the Palace. He only so much as glanced at you, making to move from your office without so much as further instruction. You nod quickly, the Lady of Autumn catching your eye from the doorway as she followed him out.

“Thank you,” she mouthed. You nodded your head politely at her, earning you a kind smile in return, one that reminded you so much of her oldest son. Speaking of…

The clock on the wall read half past three, and you hadn’t seen him all day. Usually you’d at least see him during your lunch hour as you’d stroll through the gardens, sitting under an oak tree for a quick chat or catch him passing your office a few times a day. Come to think of it, he didn’t have much need to be in the East Wing, but you’d at least find him passing by your office once if not twice a day.

Sighing, you move quick work of the record keeping, signing and dating the records and filing them into the correct folder drawers lining the walls. You tried to focus on your work, you only had thirty minutes before you were to leave, but you hoped to finish early and maybe find Eris somewhere. He had to be around, where else would he go?

Your mind wandered to last night, the way his hands felt on you, his lips, how beautiful he looked bathed in the moonlight…

You stop yourself, halting from filing a record in an incorrect folder. You shake your head, ponytail swinging side to side. Let’s just get through this, you think, turning back to your work.

ﾟ:* ✧

It’s nearly four in the afternoon when you shove the last file away, and you practically race from the office, locking it hastily and bounding down the long marble hallway toward the central courtyard. Your eyes dance from left to right, no one in sight inside or beyond the windows. All that is heard are the pattering of your maroon flats as you continue your hasty path toward the West Wing — the family chambers. If he wasn’t in the East Wing, the gardens, the offices, even the central courtyard, he must be in the West Wing.

You skid to a halt when you hear a conversation becoming louder and louder, the High Lord of Autumn’s familiar angry tone increasing in volume as you continue down the hallway. The last thing you need is to be caught, especially near the family’s quarters after hours. You make a split second decision, veering right down an unfamiliar hallway and pushing through the large wooden door at the end of it.

Your eyes squint at the afternoon sun blinding your vision, and taking a deep breath, your nose furrows at the pasture smell you’ve come upon. Taking in your surroundings, you realize you’ve left the palace, running right outside to the horse stables in the back. You glance around, noticing the large barn in front of you and not a soul in sight. Taking a few exasperated steps inside, into the shaded barn, you let out a loud sigh and sag your shoulders.

“What the FUCK!” You shout, a soft neigh coming from a stall in the distance. You bury your face in your palms, the weight of the day finally sinking in and your longing feeling all too heavy. You didn’t want to wait, you’d waited too long for this, been a coward too many times over to keep waiting. Now it was simply because you couldn’t find the male-

“Y/N?” A soft voice from behind you questions. You immediately straighten, your arms falling to your sides at the recognition. You turn slowly, heavy footsteps drawing nearer by the second.

“Y/N, are you,” Eris’s fingers lightly grace your exposed shoulder and you literally jump at the contact, causing him to retract immediately. His eyes search yours, his face the portrait of concern at your unusual attitude towards him.

“My Gods, Y/N — are you alright?” He asks softly. You face him, your mouth only opens to speak and you close it, unsure what to say.

“I… um…” You try. He reaches for you again, but thinks better of it, curling his fingers into a fist and dropping his hand.

“My dearest friend have I,” he swallows, unfurling his fingers to twist the silver ring on his index finger nervously. “Have I done something wrong?” He asks. Your eyes widen, and you take his hands in yours. His gaze flicks toward the contact, but your focused on his face.

“No! Oh Gods no Eris, never,” you assure. His whisky irises meet yours again, brow furrowed in uncertainty as his thumbs delicately trace across the backs of your palms.

“Well then, what has you so upset?” He asks. His tone, the honestly in it just breaks your heart in two. You knew this would be hard, but standing before him, before your Eris, the male you’d loved so long… admitting your truth would be the hardest thing you’d ever done.

But, it had to be done.

“I… I didn’t see you. Today.” You begin. He smiles a little, the corner of his mouth tilting upward as his gaze fixates on your delicate fingers still sitting in his.

“…I didn’t know you’d been looking for me.” He says after a moment’s pause.

“I was,” You continue. “I had… a matter. To discuss, with you I mean.” You stammer. His eyes drift toward yours once more, gazing at you through his half lids.

“Mhm… and that matter was?” He prods. You sigh, pulling your hands from his grasp and turning from him. You pace, taking a few steps and then turning back toward him once more.

“What’s so important you can’t talk to me about? Come now, we’ve been friends for…” he tilts his head. “Well, forever, anyway.” He shrugs. You meet his gaze again, and he scoffs looking away. “Unless you came to tell me you dropped the male you’ve courted, I can only await the day-“

“I never courted a male, Eris.” It comes out more forcefully than you’d like, but it has him peering at you once more in confusion.

“What are you talking about.” His voice has dropped an octave. He doesn’t ask — he demands. Heat creeps up your neck, all the words in your head feeling like the milky substance of the Cauldron, bubbling, bubbling…

Bubbling over.

“I never had a male to begin with Eris, I only said that because I was doing things to try and get your attention, because every time I would think I was getting close with you, you’d shut me out so I made it up-“

“Stop.” His voice halts your rambling. The short red locks of his hair fall to his forehand as he shakes his head slowly, eyes downcast toward the ground below. “Just… stop.”

You bite your lip, trying to keep it from trembling. You were sure he was going to banish you from speaking to him ever again, and you hadn’t even gotten to the worst part yet.

“Eris, I… there’s more-“

“I slept with someone last night.” He interjects. You raise your eyebrows at his interruption, and his apologetic gaze meets yours after what feels like an eternity. “I went to a brothel. And I slept with another female.”

You only stare blankly at him. “Eris, that’s… you’re allowed to bed whomever you please-“

“Not when I’m so madly in love,” he steps forward, grasping your hands once more and holding them close to his chest. Your breath hitches, his eyes searching yours for any answers. “I’m in love, Y/N. I have been for a very long time, I think.” Your bottom lip quivers and you allow it, tears stinging the backs of your eyes as the moment you’d only ever dreamed of was finally happening right before you.

“Then why push me away for so long?” You whisper. Eris’s face falls slightly, but his hands slowly snake their way around your arms and down your back.

“I wouldn’t live if anything ever happened to you Y/N,” he says, leaning in closer. One tear falls as you gaze hopefully into his eyes, and he wipes it away with his thumb. “You know how my father is. He’d destroy anything I hold most dear to my heart.” He swallows thickly, and his nose bumps yours gently. One hand rests on your waist, the other still cupping your cheek as his thumb gently brushes over the skin.

Inch by inch, he pulls you closer, eyes fluttering closed when his soft lips finally touch yours again. This feels different, this kiss is so soft, so tender and full of love. You can’t help but allow a few stray tears fall, parting your lips to keep kissing Eris as your hands find their way to his shoulders. He holds you close to him, only pulling away to come up for air a few minutes later.

It’s quiet, the only sounds that are heard are your shared breaths and the fidgeting of the mares in their stalls around you. He gazes down at you, resting his forehead on yours before he shakes his head and chuckles. You can’t help but smile up at him.

“What is funny?” You ask. He sighs, pulling back a bit to run his gaze over your face, down your neck and over your chest.

“I’m but a fool for not realizing it sooner,” he mutters, still shaking his head. You only raise an eyebrow.

“Realizing… that we could have been together much sooner if you’d just allowed me in before now?” You tease. He looks skyward, contemplating.

“Perhaps,” he suggests. “Or, realizing the beautiful female who sits behind a desk all day is actually quite the little performer after hours,” your cheeks heat at his accusation — the realization that he’s finally figured it all out.

“Isn’t that right, bunny?” Your jaw drops dumbly, and he tuts.

“Ohhh bunny,” he purrs lowly, running his thumb over your bottom lip. “Don’t leave your mouth open like that unless you want me to put something in it.” You close your mouth, eyes wide at his bold choice of words outside the confines of a private room. His hand has begun tracing idle circles through the fabric of your dress at your waist.

“Eris… I was going to tell you-“

“Doesn’t matter. Figured it out anyway.” He shrugs, his other hand moving to cup your cheek once more as his amber eyes bore into yours.

“Right now I’d rather you use those pretty lips to kiss me again anyway.”

ﾟ:* ✧

[ellievickstar]

Friendly Monster (Azriel x Reader)

A/N: I love procrastination and I refuse to stop generating new ideas and going back to this one, let’s please my intrusive thoughts and make a fic based on my impulsive idea so this is Day 1 of my 300 followers week! 

Summary: An ACOTAR one shot that paints the life of Rhysan’s youngest sister.

Inspired by: Nothing I ended up scrapping the original inspiration

Request: N/A

Warnings: Angst, Beron Vanserra, Amarantha, mentions of Rhys’s trauma from under the mountain. Mentions of rape.  

~*~*~*~*~

Growing up with Rhysand and Cassian was a pain. You spent your time with Morrigan in the court of nightmares but when your brother and his friend visited, or vice versa, they were assholes. Rhys and Cassian were like any other pair of reckless, stupid, ignorant illyrian boys, even with hard training, they were still cocky and had egos the size of the entirety of Prythian. 

They constantly pushed and prodded at your buttons, you were frustrated with the constantly, however, you were never furious with them. Not even when Cassian slept with Mor. The one time you were truly furious with them was when they were making fun of Azriel for not being able to fly. 

Something about their lack of sympathy ticked you off, the scars of Azriel’s hands were a good indication of his situation before the Illyrian camps. You berated Rhysand whenever he laughed at Azriel’s meek attempts at flying and told them off constantly. 

And that was somehow home. 

During the war, you were kept away from prying eyes and Amarantha somehow never got wind of you. You never followed you older sister and mother to the Illyrian camps because you had been busy sorting out some issues with Keir with your father, something you would always regret. 

When they were slaughtered you were devastated and fell deeply sick, by the time you recovered you were fatherless and your only living relatives were Morrigan and Rhys. You sobbed into you brother’s arms as you grieved over the lost of your father, even though he was still emotionally abusive. 

You were so much younger then Rhys and that reality hit you hard as you witnessed your brother harden his demeanour in front of your eyes, in front of others he became cold and distant. In a way, you also mourned the loss of your brother. 

That’s when the day of Rhysand’s party he threw for Amarantha came. 

Your first mistake was following Rhysand to that party. 

Your second mistake was not running. 

You last mistake was coming out of hiding. 

You screamed when you realised that Amarantha had taken control of your brother. Amarantha giggled and the sound made you want to throw up. You reached out to your brother’s mind, devastated as you realised that Amarantha had made him shut you out. 

He glanced at you once, the mask he wore cracking as he seemed to try to communicate the words that he would never be able to openly express for th next fifty years. I’m sorry. 

Tears streamed down your face as you watched your brother change again, as he became the swaggering, arrogant, loyal servant to the one woman you begun to despise. You watched for fifty years as she dragged him to her bedroom and used him in ways that you couldn’t begin to imagine. Every Starfall you were forced to entertain Amarantha’s goons, every Starfall another heart break, and maybe that changed you too. 

The worse was when you were gifted to the oldest son of the Autumn Court one night when Rhysand broke the rules. You whipped your head to your brother as you were dragged away by Eris, you screamed and screamed, pleading for him to do something, but he stayed rooted to the ground and watched. 

You remembered the fear that overwhelmed you as Eris snarled at you to shut up. You remember the opening of the door as you were lifted bridal style once you calmed down. You remember that he told you to start screaming and crying again. You remember screaming your throat raw until you felt like you were going to pass out. You remember the feeling of arms wrapping around you as you were placed into a warm bath. You remember Eris murmuring in your ear, trying to comfort you. You remember falling asleep. 

It was only at the end of those fifty years were you able to explain everything to Rhysand, he thanked Eris in private and you hugged the red-headed male who had grown to love you like a brother as well. He made you swear to tell him if anyone hurt you so he could burn them alive himself. That made you laugh, but you weren’t sure if he was serious. 

You stayed under the mountain as you ensured that everyone could leave. That was when Tarquin approached you. 

“I know your not that much older then me, any tips to get all the old bastard’s respects,” He tried. You were startled at the words he used, breaking into a smile as you began to share some of your experiences with the High Lords. How you visited Kallias after the attack and made sure that he understood that it was Amarantha’s fault, how you protected Thesan’s lover when Amarantha tried to ask why he never slept with any women — though it may have also been because he wasn’t attracted t any of them — you even shared how Eris helped you all those years ago. 

Tarquin listened intently to your stories before you finally bid him goodbye and winnowed to the moonstone palace. There, you found Rhys on the floor having a full blown freak out while Mor was trying to comfort him without laughing. 

You soon understood the situation, you wanted to smack Rhys’s head when you found out about the bargain, and you wanted to throttle him for deciding that he would not tell Feyre about the bond. After his — comical to say the least— freak out, you winnowed to the House of Wind and was immediately greeted with huge arms wrapping around you as you were spun around. Cassian cheered as he practically shouted to the whole of Velaris that you had returned home. 

Azriel smiled and you opened your arms, he rolled his eyes as he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, you shrieked, pounding on his back while Rhys just pointed a certain finger st you when you cussed at him when he refused to help you. 

When Azriel finally put you down, you spent the rest of the night with your family, sharing the time under the mountain. Though it wasn’t great, you all cried together and that was important. Mor was astounded to hear of Eris’s change of character and considered that maybe the bastard could change after all. 

Once everyone was tired, you waved goodbye to everyone as they retired to their rooms for the night. You helped Nuala and Cerridwen and bid them good night before approaching Azriel’s room. 

Pushing the door open, you were met with Azriel’s hazel eyes as he closed the door. You sighed as you collapsed, tired, into his arms and he held you quietly against his warm body. You sighed, content to stay there the rest of the night. 

“Your brother would kill me if he knew about us,” Azriel suddenly said. You looked up and realised that you had been screaming your thoughts down the bond. “We found out just before I went under the mountain, give him some time to adjust the the good things then we’ll tell him after I finally accept the bond,” You said simply. 

And there was your secret. Azriel was your mate. You had found out a few days before Rhys’s party, you had planned on accepting the bond, but you never had the chance to. You had wondered if Azriel had waited for you, if he would have moved on… 

Azriel rubbed a thumb against you palm, snapping you out of your thoughts, mumbling that your think too much. 

“I could never replace you, you would be the only one who could love a monster like me,” He grumbled and shifted you to lie down next to him as he snaked an arm around your abdomen. Though he had said that in good light, you knew that deep down he meant it. Your heart broke a little and you turned to face him. 

“You might think that your a monster, but you’re mine,” You hummed as you traced circles against his cheek. “My friendly monster,” You giggled and he chuckled. The sound reverberated against the walls of the room, and everything seemed to finally be at peace. 

~*~*~*~*~ Taglist: ask me if you want to be tagged! tag list: @moonfawnx @bankerfrog @younxii @hideing@flightlesslittlebirdie  @menagerofmischief @famousbasementpainter @owllover123  @gigisssz  @cityofidek  @aetherl0l @judig92

[the-oakwald-ambassador]

The Masks We Wear (8)

Az stood stuck in the clove-scented chambers. 

Why was it so nice here? Why was there comfort so deep in the house of Beron’s cruelty? 

The idea that even barren deserts get rain sometimes struck him differently. Maybe there was joy and love in Autumn. 

If it was here, then it was probably other places too. 

Like Spring. 

And the Hewn City. 

The thought shook him to his core, and he physically shuddered to rid himself of the guilt associated with leaving other Dreamers like himself in places that stifled them. 

He wandered through the cavernous chambers slowly, taking in every detail. 

There was a large dog bed by the hearth.

The bookshelves that lined the walls were covered in trinkets and portrait frames, all tasteful but filled with paintings of what looked to be the Vanserra brothers when they were younger. 

All seven of them. 

The largest boy, presumably the eldest, held a babe in one of the portraits - it was in the largest frame, hung delicately over a desk in the corner of the room. 

 Eris. Holding Lucien. 

He had to have been maybe thirteen in that portrait - Azriel thought back to when he first met the heir of Autumn.

Yes, he thought, thirteen. 

He remembered meeting the Autumn Court heir that day in the Hewn City, with Rhysand’s father watching him like a hawk. His shadowsinging abilities had been recognized and reported on by Rhysand’s mother, and his father had made quick work of recruiting him into his service as his Illyrian training continued. 

Cassian was irate. 

Rhysand was jealous. 

And Azriel was tired. 

But that day, when Rhysand’s father called him to Kier’s domain for a meeting with Autumn, his orders were very clear. 

Be aloof, give nothing away - valuable or not, and stay fucking silent. 

So even though he normally would have given the younger male a small smile, maybe even offered his scarred hand to shake as per custom regardless of his insecurities, Azriel stayed aloof. And reserved. And quiet.

He noticed the portrait of just two of the Vanserra brothers - the two oldest, though they themselves were babies. 

What was that one’s name again? 

Before Azriel could recall, he heard a few sets of footsteps rapidly approaching the study. He rushed through an open door off the main chamber, closing the door quickly and silently only to find himself hiding in the shadows of a beautifully plush bedroom.

It smelled like Autumn personified. 

A gold four poster bed was draped in white gauze, and the bed was dressed in white linens with furs and an auburn quilt thrown haphazardly over the foot of the mattress. There were pillows galore, and the sheets smelled like cloves and some sort of cedar. 

The cedar scent wasn’t native to this room though, not like the clove-scent of whoever lived here. For it had embedded every fiber of these four walls and everything inside of it. In contrast, the cedar scent had been placed there on purpose, on one dented pillow and just that pillow alone, as if spreading it further was both impossible and painful for its inhabitant.

He sent shadows throughout the room, if only to investigate how that particular scent got there.

There is a bottle of cologne in the nightstand drawer. 

That solved it, he supposed as his shadows kept mumbling,

And a bottle of lubricating oil, much like the type you keep in your bedside table. 

That was quite enough, Azriel thought, cheeks reddening besides himself. 

Why was he embarrassed? He was alone, in a foreign place, feeling shame for what? Masturbating in his own home? 

He told himself to shut the fuck up, and listened closely to the conversation that the nearing voices were having as they entered the room he had just exited. 

Azriel had heard these voices before - they were those of the Vanserra brothers. 

He had only ever met Eris and Lucien, and had long since presumed that the other five were as cold as their eldest brother. 

But as they spoke and cooed at the pups they’d brought with them - those of the exquisite smokehounds of Autumn, if Azriel were to guess - he was forced to change his assumptions. 

For they were gentle with each other. One would ask how the other’s wife was, and cared about the answer. One asked another of the health of their second babe. Another was intrigued about someone’s travels, and was gifted a trinket from a foreign court, seemingly Summer. 

They all received gifts from that brother, all variations of shells and glass and wine and gold. 

Tarquin’s realm had served them well. 

Odd, Azriel thought, for Autumn Court fae to have an affinity for Summer. 

Relatable though. He had always thought Tarquin’s realm too hot and sticky, but had long-since relished in the beauty of those few weeks of summer in Illyria at his mother’s cabin, where he’d vanish off to yearly without word. 

A perk of his job, he supposed.

To walk without others hearing. To watch and observe without being noticed. 

To see his mother without anyone thinking to inquire.

Some part of him wished someone would - his brothers, their mates, or just their friends in general. Hell, even his spies. 

But he was typically unnoticeable, and had made a career out of being just that. 

So as he stood in that luxurious bedroom, smelling the most comforting scents he’d ever smelled and contemplating why he was so unmissable, Azriel frowned. 

He should leave, he thought to himself. It would be as simple as winnowing away to somewhere deeper in the Forest House. 

But he didn’t leave. Couldn’t. 

The conversation in the other room was too fascinating. 

The hearth’s gentle warmth was too comforting. 

The scent of this bedding was too inviting. 

So he stayed and listened and breathed and relaxed for once - even though it was against all of his training. For he knew, for some unknown reason, he was safe even though all evidence would tell him he wasn’t. 

It was as if this bedroom was impenetrable by anything other than comfort and cool air. 

So Az breathed and breathed, and when the voices died down once again and the footsteps disappeared down the halls of the Forest House, Azriel stayed. 

In fact, he had his shadows ward the door, and against all of his best judgment, he succumbed to the primal urge to sleep. 

So he did. 

He warded the doors, instructed his shadows to wake him if there was danger, and then he slept in that plush four poster bed that smelled of cloves and an old spritz of cedar cologne, and he didn’t bother to wonder why he had the best night sleep of his life that night. 

When he rose, it was quick and with shame, and he was gone and in the sky over Velaris moments after he woke up. 

By the time he landed, discombobulated and ashamed on Rhysand’s lawn, his cheeks were the color of Cassian’s siphons.

___

It took weeks for Eris to return home, knowing that Beron had been deathly serious in telling him not to return without results. 

He’d secured the trade routes but had not soothed Helion’s suspicion.

Eris had fielded too many thinly-veiled questions about his mother’s wellbeing, and was exhausted from playing courtier by the time he made it through the halls of the Forest House, entering his own chambers quietly. 

He walked through his sitting room first, though it was mostly a library with a touch of office and a large helping of dog kennel. 

Something was off. 

By the time he saw his rumpled sheets and smelled the air, he knew exactly what. 

For some unknown fucking reason, Azriel had been here. 

In his bed. 

By the smell of it, weeks prior.

So instead of bathing after traveling in Helion’s hot air, and winnowing miles and miles on sheer willpower, Eris crawled into bed - if only to breathe in Azriel’s real scent on his sheets rather than the cologne he’d bought and sprayed nightly as a small, private indulgence to his baser needs.

He fell into his dreams quickly and without fanfare, and when he woke it was with the haunting realization that he’d never slept so well in his life.