#Eris is an idiot

[beansidhebumbling]

The Art of War

The study was empty when Eris entered it.

He was quite sure of it.

Or had been until he heard a startled gasp when he slammed his hand against his desk.

He turned suddenly, catching his emerald brocade waistcoat on the corner of the bureau. Yet another casualty of this disastrous ball if the ripping he heard was anything to go by. There the intruder sat, across the firelit room in his favourite armchair, a vision of stunned elegance in white muslin.

Under his burning gaze, emotions burst like fireworks across her sharp little face- nervousness, irritation, anger, hope -before disappearing beneath a veil of polite, practiced concern.

'My Lord, I apologise for the intrusion.'

She murmured, head tilted down, voice trembling just so. She was a poised model of simpering female softness, slippered feet peeping out beneath the hem of her ivory dress, gloved hands clinging to a book, probably poetry.

And yet.. she made no move to stand, no rush to leave what was no doubt a compromising situation for any young debutante. Indeed Eris had a suspicion that the violent bang of his arrival was of little surprise at all. Only fools believed women incapable of deception, when indeed in polite society their very existence depended on their mastery of it.

Unfortunately for this actress he had no intention of being trapped by yet another conniving mama and his extinguished patience was not present to temper his tongue.

'What a skilled artist you are, Miss. Your concern for me is as artificial as the rouge on your pretty lips, yet most convincing. A lesser man may have been fooled. May I suggest you leave here and find such a man before I lose what is left of my good will.'

He snarled, feeling his face redden with frustration as he spoke until his complexion surely matched his hair.

He expected a few tears or a dramatic exit once he spoke.

He'd inspired both before.

Instead the creature had leaned back in the chair and raised her face towards him, so he got to observe her thin eyebrows climb higher and higher in disbelief and her plump bottom lip thin in fury as he raved.

There followed a few moments of painful silence where the only sounds that could be heard were the distant ballroom music and his own heavy breathing.

Then she rose from her seat, her movements liquid and graceful, a dancer he guessed, the book still in hand. Advancing on him she began to speak, voice low and steady, her grey eyes like knives pointed at him,

'I am skilled artist, my Lord, though not as you insinuate. And it is a damning indictment on men that I believe I could find lesser than what exists before me.'

He winced at her condemnation, an expert with blades of all kinds clearly. His chest tightened strangely and his hand clutched at it but he received no mercy from the descending angel.

'I have heard many tales of you, Lord Vanserra, but none had quite readied me for that introduction.'

His heart was ready to burst from his chest. Maybe because it was wrapped, from her first word, in a bow of barbed wire, that glistened gold and extended across the rapidly disappearing space between himself and the vengeful beauty. The clarity of this realization was as striking as his regret at his own insult towards her.

She continued, blessed as he was with the sweet timbre of her voice, damned as he was with its contents,

'I entered your study for a chance to meet you, my charming soulmate. So as to allow the bond to click for you in private, so you would not have to suffer publicly, as I did.'

Gods damn him.

She was breathtaking clothed in rage. It may be the only solace he could take from her anger, as based on his actions she would feel little else for him henceforth.

She reached him, those dainty feet now so close to his fine leather boots, her perfume of orange and vanilla filling his nose. He was sure he appeared to be a madman, clenched over his desk in pain as his heart was reforged as hers. His pale hand reached for her but she artfully dodged him, skirts whirling as she dropped the book on his desk and leaned down so her lips were by his ear.

'My name is Nesta Archeron, my Lord. And I will go now and seek one of those lesser men that you speak of. Do come join me when you are less indisposed.'

Nesta, he tried the name out, finding it to be most delightful even as a searing jealousy at the thought of her with another man threatened to turn his stomach.

By the time he could choke out her name, she was by the door.

'Nesta. Please.'

Funny how words that came so easy to him mere minutes ago had vanished somewhere between his head and his heart.

'Nesta.'

She did not turn but he saw her posture tense slightly as she pulled open the door and disappeared back to the dance.

-

He was not sure how long it took him to recover. Only that when his vision finally cleared the moon was high in the sky and the crunching of carriages and laughter could be heard through the bay window.

Nesta.

She was his first thought, as she would be for the rest of his life.

How Lucien would laugh at him. Only Eris Vanserra could offend his mate so thoroughly before an introduction. When he tentatively probed at the bond, that gold ribbon he felt bound to his heart, it echoed into the darkness with no response.

She had shut him off.

No great surprise but disappointment bit at his gut like a viper.

Pressing his forehead against the cool mahogany he sighed in despair. He allowed himself a moment more to wallow in his own stupidity before standing and fixing his jacket, buttoning it so as to hide his torn waistcoat.

It would do no good to admit defeat at this early stage. Eris had been fighting for his place since the day he was born. If it were to be no different with his mate, he could rest assured that none were more practiced than he.

His eyes turned to the thin book she had left on the desk, the smell of oranges still clinging to it. He turned his first gift from her, for it was one in his mind at least, over to read the title.

The Art of War.

For the first time that night, a smile tugged at his mouth.

How apt.

And though sleep beckoned Eris relit the candles in the study for it was time to prepare for the fight of his life.

[queenofterrasen418]

Cruel Fates (Part 2)

Pairing: Azriel x f!Reader, little Eris x f!Reader

Summary: Azriel is your mate but only you know it. You are very aware that he has eyes for someone else and thus you decide not to hide it forever. After all, what could go wrong right?

Warnings: Angst (I don't think I can ever stop myself from writing angst.)

Based on this ask.

4.1K words

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4

You found yourself aimlessly wandering along the banks of Sidra after storming out on Rhys. The ambient noise enveloped you—the rhythmic splashes of the river against rocks, the bustling chatter of the market, birds chirping in the background. Everything felt mundane, yet strangely comforting. Ignoring your problems wasn’t a solution, as Rhys had pointed out, but it was undeniably easier than facing or even acknowledging them. Nevertheless, you had resigned yourself to the current state of affairs.

Using distraction as your shield, you returned home burdened with bags filled with new books, clothes, and other unnecessary items. As you entered the elegant two-story building you called home, a sense of familiarity and solace washed over you. This palace had become a sanctuary, a reflection of your own essence.

Closing the door behind you with a soft thud, you were greeted by the familiar scent of citrus and jasmine. Setting down the bags, you kicked off your shoes. The silence of the house stood in stark contrast to the lively atmosphere of the market. Just as thoughts of Azriel slipped from your mind, your senses sharpened, recognizing the subtle hum of shadows.

"Ah, the shadow singer. Ever heard of knocking or privacy?" you quipped, though you didn’t need to turn to know it was him.

"I'm a spymaster; it's not in my nature," he replied with his customary soft smile.

Refusing to let your gaze linger on him for too long, you busied yourself by fetching a glass of water.

"How can I assist you, Azriel?" you inquired as you filled the glass in the kitchen beyond the hall where he stood. You still felt a distance from him, not quite comfortable enough to address him as Az like your sisters, Feyre or Elain, did.

"Can't I simply enjoy your company?" he teased, his voice gentle.

Turning away, you closed your eyes for a moment, mentally reminding yourself to compartmentalize. "He's just being polite," you repeated to yourself, trying to drown out the nagging voice in your head that reminded you of Elain's constant talk about him. "He treats Elain the same."

You scoffed, hoping it didn’t come across as too rude. "Yeah, sure. Now, what brings you here?"

"We're expecting Eris to arrive in a few hours, around sunset. Rhys wanted me to ask if you've changed your mind."

Ah, you had forgotten about the impending meeting with the prince. You sighed. "And Rhys couldn’t ask me himself because?" It was a rhetorical question, but Azriel seemed unaware.

"He mentioned that you two had a disagreement, and he wasn’t sure if you'd be open to talking."

"Of course, I'll talk to him. I’m not a child," you replied, your brows furrowing. "And yes, I still intend to attend that meeting."

Azriel nodded, his expression unreadable as always. "Good to know. In that case, he asked me to inform you that you’ll have to deal with this meeting on your own, there are some crises with an Illyrian camp that he had to attend to, and he is running late.”

“Oh,” A part of you was glad that Rhys let you handle this, “It’ll just be me then?”

The spymaster shook his head, “Of course not, I’ll accompany you.”

You nodded as you were unsure of the right response, “Is there anything else I should know before I meet Eris?”

Azriel paused and started slowly, “My shadows tell me he wishes to overthrow his father. But it’s difficult to know what’s the truth.”

“Ahh, that’s why Rhys put me on this.”  you realized as Azriel nodded in response.

You wondered why Rhys requested you accompany him to a meeting with Eris. The powers you got from the cauldron were unique. Your ability ranges from slowing a person's pulse to snatching the air from their lungs as long as the target must be in your line of sight. You can command human organs and regulate emotions by releasing certain chemicals in the body. This allows you to induce suffocation by removing air from someone's lungs, controlling blood flow, causing heart attacks, dictating heart rhythm, and slowing healing. Aside from being extremely valuable in a battle, you can also act as a living lie detector, by monitoring a person’s physiological response.

“Alright, I’ll be there, is there anything else?” 

Azriel looked like he was about to say something before he muttered a no.

“You know better than to lie to me, what is it?”

He signed before he finally asked, “I knew that you and Rhys got close in a short time but I didn’t realise you were close enough that he trusted you to handle a meeting alone. That too with Eris.”

“Honestly, I didn't know either.” you said, “Rhys and I connected so quickly that it felt like I had known him for years, he is the older brother I never had. I am glad that he trusts me to handle this.”

You noticed a strange emotion flash in his eyes for a quick second before he gave a soft smile “I am happy for him, I am glad he found a friend in you, y/n. Cassian and I may be his brothers but he still doesn't confide in us completely, he is too afraid to burden us. Feyre and you are good for him.”

You returned his smile, “We all need someone to lean on.” 

“Well, Is there anything you need assistance with before then?", he asked.

You shook your head, dismissing any further conversation. "No, I'll manage. Thank you, Azriel."

He lingered for a moment, as if debating whether to say something else, but ultimately turned to leave without another word.

As the door clicked shut behind him, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. It wasn’t directed at Azriel, but rather at yourself for the walls you had built, preventing anyone from getting too close. Yet, at the same time, you couldn’t bear the thought of letting those walls crumble, leaving you vulnerable to the possibility of rejection. Aside from that, even if he did feel the same way, how long will it last? That too with your newly immortal lifespan? You have witnessed true love fall apart in a short time in the human lands. How would it not end in anything but pain in the life of an immortal? If there was one thing you knew for sure, it was that to love, is to destroy. Not telling Azriel was the best option for yourself, you were not going to invite pain to your doorstep.

With a heavy heart, you retreated to your room. You knew that sooner or later, Azriel would find out but for now, you allowed yourself the temporary respite of distraction. 

Later that day, the anticipation of Eris's arrival hung heavy in the air as you prepared for the meeting. Despite your best efforts to focus on the task at hand, thoughts of Azriel and the unresolved tension between you lingered at the edges of your mind.

As the sun began its descent, casting hues of orange and pink across the sky, a knock at the door signalled Eris's arrival. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you made your way to the entrance, your heart pounding in your chest.

Opening the door, you were met with the sight of Eris standing tall and imposing, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. His eyes, a striking shade of amber, sparkled with mischief as he took in your appearance.

If you were to describe him, you'd call him the living embodiment of fire. 

He was the light to Azriel's dark, they were opposite in every way possible.

“Well, well, well, if it isn't the infamous Y/N," he drawled, his voice smooth like silk. "I must say, you're even more captivating in person."

You rolled your eyes at his flattery, though you couldn’t deny the flutter of excitement that his words stirred within you. "Save the charm, Eris. It won’t work on me."

He chuckled, stepping closer until there was barely any space between you, the air between felt charged, "You wound me, darling. I assure you, my intentions are nothing but genuine."

Before you could retort, Azriel appeared beside you, his presence like a sudden gust of wind that left you breathless. Though his expression remained neutral, you couldn’t shake the feeling of tension radiating from him.

You did miss how Azriel's heart rate was unusually increased, while Eris' remained stable calm and genuine, just like he mentioned before. 

“Eris," Azriel greeted with a nod, his voice devoid of warmth.

"Az," Eris replied, his smirk widening as he used Azriel's nickname. "Always a pleasure."

The air crackled with unspoken tension as the three of you made your way to the meeting room. Eris's gaze lingered on you, his eyes flickering with a mixture of curiosity and desire that sent a shiver down your spine as you all took your seats.

“Imagine how surprised I was when my high lord told me that you had requested a meeting with the night court.” you began holding the prince’s eyes.

“I had requested to meet Rhysand but I am not complaining. You are far better to look at.” Eris said with a smirk that never seemed to leave his face.

“I'll inform him that you were pleased by the arrangement.” you replied with an earnest smile.

Maybe this could be fun, you thought.

Maybe you found Eris fun.

As Eris seemed to give another flirty retort, Azriel spoke.

“Why are you here?

“Ugh! You are no fun Azriel. It’s not like you don't know already.”

You raise your brows at him, asking him to elaborate. 

Eris obliged, “I want to…” he  seemed to pause choosing his words carefully, “relieve my father from his duties and be the high lord of Autumn court.”

You couldn’t help but snort a laugh at his words, “‘relieve my father of his duties’? My, my, whatever happened to daddy's loyal boy?” 

You caught the slight upper tilt of Azriel's lips just as your powers detected the slight rise in the pulse of Eris before it slowed down again.

“Apparently he's not as loyal as you thought.”

“How can we trust you?”

“Who are you kidding, princess? I'd be a fool not to know about your interesting powers.”

“Fair enough, what does the night court have to do with this?”

“Help me, to get rid of my father, support my claim as the high lord.”

“Why would we do that? We’d then be replacing one monster for another.” you shot back.

If your words affected him, he showed no signs of it, physically at least, but the small spike in his cortisol levels and the drop in his pulse told you your words hit their mark.

Eris's smile tightened ever so slightly, but he maintained his composure, leaning back in his chair with an air of practised ease. "I can see why you might think that, but I assure you, I'm not my father. Unlike Beron, I see the value in alliances and mutual benefit."

Azriel crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing. "Convincing words, Eris, but words are cheap. What do you have to offer in return for our support?" 

You couldn’t honestly remember when was the last time you had heard him speak this much, or if you had ever interacted with him for more than a few words.

Eris's gaze flickered to Azriel, then back to you. "Information. My father is planning something that could have catastrophic consequences for all of us. He's been working with a human queen—one who has a vested interest in starting a new war between our realms."

Your heart skipped a beat, a sense of dread settling over you. "Which queen?"

Eris's expression grew grave. "Queen Briallyn. She's amassed a formidable army and is working with my father to create a weapon that could tip the scales in her favour."

You exchanged a glance with Azriel, whose stoic expression betrayed a flicker of concern. "What kind of weapon?"

"One that can manipulate the very fabric of magic itself," Eris replied, his voice low and serious. "It could render even the most powerful High Lords and their courts defenceless."

Azriel's eyes darkened. "And you have proof of this?"

Eris reached into his coat and pulled out a small, intricately carved box. He placed it on the table and opened it to reveal a collection of documents and maps. "These are the plans and correspondences between my father and Queen Briallyn. Everything you need to verify my claims is right here."

You leaned forward, scrutinizing the documents. The meticulous detail and undeniable authenticity left little room for doubt. 

You sighed passing the letters to the shadowsinger. "Just when we thought Prythian had a moment of rest."

Eris met your gaze, his expression was earnest. "Our courts need to work together."

You considered his words, the weight of the decision pressing down on you. It was a risk, but the potential consequences of inaction were too dire to ignore. "Assuming we agree to help, how do you propose we go about it?"

Eris's smirk returned, though there was a determined glint in his eyes. "We can meet regularly and update eachother with what we know and proceed from there."

Azriel's gaze remained fixed on Eris, his expression unreadable. "And what guarantees do we have that you won't betray us once you have what you want?"

Eris leaned forward, his amber eyes burning with intensity. "You have my word and the knowledge that if I betray you, I'll be signing my own death warrant. Beron would kill me in a heartbeat. I need this alliance as much as you do."

You took a deep breath, weighing the risks and benefits. Finally, you nodded. "Alright, Eris. We'll discuss this with our high lord and get back to you. But know this—if you betray us, there will be nowhere in this world you can hide."

Eris inclined his head, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. "Understood. Now, I've always been curious about your powers," he began, his tone light but laced with genuine interest. "I've heard rumours, but I find that firsthand accounts are always more... enlightening."

You arched an eyebrow, meeting his gaze with a guarded expression. "Have you now, Eris? And I’m not in the habit of revealing my secrets to just anyone." Your powers were not publicized much, you and Rhys decided it was more advantageous to keep it quiet. But they weren’t a secret either.

Eris chuckled, the sound warm and inviting. "Ah, but I'm not just anyone, am I? People talk about you being able to control the very essence of life itself. Now, that sounds rather impressive, don't you think?"

You chuckled softly, crossing your arms. "Rumours tend to exaggerate. I'm sure the truth is far less exciting."

Eris took a step closer, his gaze never leaving yours. "Is that so? From what I understand, you can manipulate the body on a molecular level. Imagine the possibilities... and the danger."

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Dangerous, perhaps, but only to those who give me a reason to use it."

His eyes gleamed with amusement. "Fair enough. But tell me, how does it work? Do you just think about it and—poof—someone's heart stops beating?"

You gave him a sly smile. "If I told you, I'd have to kill you. Or at least give you a nasty headache."

Eris laughed, a rich, warm sound that filled the room.

Eris's expression grew more serious, though his smile remained. "You know, Y/N, there's something else I've been thinking about.”

You looked at Azriel and joked, “Look at that! You have certainly been thinking a lot recently, haven’t you Eris? Looks like you’ve been having a lot of thoughts.” You were surprised that Azriel gave a small smile from the way he had tensed this entire meeting, waiting for a chance to pounce on the Autumn prince.

Eris widened his smile at your comment as he continued, “Here’s my proposal, this alliance between us... it could be more than just a political arrangement."

You tilted your head, intrigued despite yourself. "Oh? And what exactly are you suggesting, Eris?"

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I'm suggesting a union between our courts, a marriage of sorts. Think about it—together, we’d hold so much power." 

Azriel lost all his self-control as he whispered in a deadly calm tone, “You have gone insane.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. Your powers silently rush to soothe Azriel before he does something reckless, "You certainly don't lack ambition, I'll give you that. But why on earth would I consider such an arrangement?" 

Eris's gaze softened, and for a moment, you caught a glimpse of something deeper in his eyes. "Because I believe we could be unstoppable together. You're powerful, intelligent, and, if I may be so bold, quite captivating. With your abilities and my resources, there's no limit to what we could achieve."

You felt a flicker of something—curiosity, perhaps, or maybe even the faintest hint of intrigue.

“Too bad you were already mated, if only he knew”, you thought to yourself.

A slow thought crept into your mind, “So what if you were mated? Nothing was going to come out of it anyway.” 

"Captivating, am I? You do know how to charm, Eris. But you'll have to do better than that to convince me."

Eris's smile widened, his eyes gleaming with determination. "Consider it, Y/N. Imagine what we could accomplish together. The Autumn Court and the Night Court united as one. We could bring peace, prosperity, and a new era of cooperation to our people."

You studied him for a long moment, weighing his words. There was no denying the potential benefits of such a union, but there were also risks—trusting Eris was a gamble, and one you weren't sure you were ready to take. Thoughts of what he did to Mor screamed in your head.

“I didn’t forget your past with Morrigan, Eris. You still expect me to agree to this?”

His eyes narrowed at that, “Morrigan knows the truth of what happened that day. Ask her for the entire truth.”

Confusion bloomed inside you at his words but you did not have time to sort through lies now, Azriel was too agitated and you were left with an important choice to make.

"I'll think about it," you finally said, your tone careful. "But don't get your hopes up, Eris. I'm not so easily won over." you slipped a mask of playfulness again.

Eris chuckled, rising from his seat with a graceful fluidity. "I wouldn't expect anything less from you, Y/N. Just promise me you'll keep an open mind."

You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I'll keep an open mind. But remember, Eris—if you cross me, you'll regret it."

He inclined his head, his expression earnest. "I wouldn't dream of it. Until next time, Y/N."

With that, Eris turned and left the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts. The idea of a union with Eris was both tempting and daunting, and you couldn't help but wonder what the future held for the two of you—and for your courts.

The room settled into an uneasy silence. You could feel the tension radiating from Azriel beside you, a stark contrast to his usually calm demeanour. His jaw was clenched, and his shadows seemed to writhe and twist around him with a life of their own.

You turned to face him, concern etched into your features. "Azriel, what's wrong? If I hadn’t calmed you Mother knows what you’d have done to him!"

Azriel’s eyes, usually a cool and controlled shade of hazel, now burned with a fierce intensity. "What's wrong? Are you seriously considering his proposal, Y/N?"

You blinked, taken aback by the intensity of his reaction, you have never seen this side of him.

 "It's not as simple as that, Azriel. We have to consider all options if we want to ensure the safety of Prythian."

He took a step closer, his voice low and filled with barely suppressed anger. "Eris is playing a dangerous game. A union with him? You can't seriously think that's a good idea."

You met his gaze, your own frustration bubbling to the surface. "I'm not saying I'm going to marry him tomorrow, Azriel. But we can't dismiss his proposal outright. There’s the potential benefit—"

Azriel cut you off, his voice rising. "Potential benefit? He's manipulating you, Y/N! He wants power, and he’ll use you to get it. Do you really believe he has anyone's interests at heart other than his own?"

You felt a surge of defensiveness, your own anger flaring in response. "And what if he does? What if this alliance could actually bring about the change we need? We can’t afford to let personal grudges cloud our judgment. He meant everything he said today, not a single ill-intended thought!"

Azriel’s expression darkened, his shadows growing more agitated. "This isn't about personal grudges. This is about trust, about loyalty. Eris has proven time and time again that he can’t be trusted. And now he's proposing a union with you? He’s trying to bind you to him, Y/N. To control you."

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions. "I know it’s risky, Azriel. But we need allies. We need every advantage we can get if we're going to take down Beron and stop this war."

Azriel’s fists clenched at his sides, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "And what about your own safety? What about the risk to you? I can't stand by and watch you put yourself in danger for a power-hungry prince who will betray you the first chance he gets."

Your heart ached at the raw concern in his voice, hope threatened to manifest in you but you shoved it aside and held your ground. "Why do you care, Azriel? I can take care of myself. I’m not making any decisions lightly. I just need to consider every option."

Your words cut through the air like a sharp blade, and for a moment, Azriel seemed taken aback by your response. His gaze softened, his expression filled with a mixture of frustration and hurt.

"Why do I care?" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. "Because you are like Rhys’s little sister, you are one of us. Because I can't bear the thought of anything happening to you."

Though a part of you was glad he cared but you scoffed in disbelief, “Right. Because I am important to Rhys. Well, this decision is mine to make and I will discuss it with Rhys as it concerns his court. I’ll be sure to take what you feel into consideration. Thank you for your input, Azriel.”

His gaze hardened, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes. "Fine. If that's how you want it. But have you ever stopped to consider the possibility that you might have a mate, Y/N?"

The question hung in the air like a heavy weight, the implication sinking in with a sickening certainty. You felt your breath catch in your throat, the blood draining from your face as you struggled to comprehend his words.

"What if you have a mate out there, waiting for you?" Azriel continued, his voice soft but filled with an undercurrent of pain. "What then?"

You recoiled as if struck, the weight of his words crashing down on you like a tidal wave. The truth, the painful, unbearable truth, threatened to drown you in its depths. A dry, joyless laugh came out of you.

"I don't have a mate," you spat out, your voice trembling with rage. You lied without a second thought. The ease of it scared you. "And even if I did, it's none of your damn business, Azriel. Stay out of my life."

With that final, venomous retort, you turned on your heel and winnowed out of the room, leaving Azriel behind in a cloud of anguish and regret. 

As you fled down the empty corridors of the townhouse, your heart ached with a pain you couldn't name. 

You opened Rhys’s study door without a second thought and sighed in relief as you found Feyre and him.

Realization of what truly happened spread through you like a bolt of lightning hit you. Both of them were quickly at your side, worried and asking you questions. A single tear slipped as your voice broke,

 “Not telling him was one thing, but lying to him? Oh cauldron, what have I done?”

Next Part

Taglist: @sidthedollface2, @a-courtof-azriel, @whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog, @acourtofsmutandstarlight,@katherinejess, @mybestfriendmademe , @landofpetrichor , @isa1b2h3 , @anuttellaa , @cherryinsalemverse

Let me know if you want to get added to the list or if I missed someone!

[lexluvswriting]

ꔫ L'autunno.

☆ Ch: 2 [last page] [next page]

-> Pairing: Eris x ballet dancer!fem!reader.

-> (CW): x fem!reader (she/her), slow-burn, rivals to lovers, tinkle of angst on occasion, fluff, non-specified identity Summer Court!reader, regarding canon ACOTAR time: after defeat of Hybern. Dual p.o.v!!

-> (TW): Eris Vanserra, slightly softer today, Lucien cameo!! Beron Vanserra is still a c-

W/C: 2.8k (what a coincidence)

╰┈➤ Lex's note: I hope this chapter was a bit more reader and Eris focused!! i wanted to add some backstory to Eris -even tho there isnt much to go off- (slightly ooc as i am embellishing a lil, teehee!) ALSO: I did a dual p.o.v!! Thought it might be cute! pls lmk how we feel abt it!!

A gentle breeze swept back the Lady of the Autumn Court’s hair as she sat out on her balcony. The moon dangled in the sky, and a small ball of auburn hair shifted in the lap of the Lady- two golden eyes blinking through baby tears up at the female who watched the moon with an expression Lucien had seen before, but could never name. There was angry yelling in the distance, deep within the manor as glass shattered and feet stomped around.

“Why does he always do that, mamma?” A little voice called out. The Lady sighed in response, lips parting to bestow more motherly reassurance when another voice answered.

“Because he’s a horrible man, Lucien.” Eris, stone faced despite his youth, stalked towards his mother and younger brother as he entered the balcony clearing.

Eris Vanserra was many things. A big brother. A good dancer, a cheater at all the games, a little fox. And he certainly wasn’t an idiot.

“Did he write to you again? Is that why he’s angry?” Silence hung on the end of his question, sliding off the words like a droplet of dew as the Lady extended her other arm, and ushered Eris closer. Both boys held their mother, who looked up at the sky with weary eyes.

But they weren’t weary- they were tired, but not exhausted. Sad but not miserable. It was like she was holding onto-

“I hoped to negotiate with your father about letting Lucien see… him. But it didn’t… work out well.” Her voice was hushed, like the whisper of a willow that swayed by the lake near the manor.

There it was. Hope.

“Why bother? You know he’ll only hit you. Why do you let him? Why can’t he- why can’t-” Anger bubbled up in Eris the same way it did in his father, and that only made the boy more angry as he pulled away, kicking a loose rock over the edge of the balcony.

“Why can’t he help you? And take you away from this?”

“But where will you go, Eri?” Lucien’s sleepy voice cooed, the little one rubbing at his eyes with chubby fists. Eris glared at his younger brother- as if he was foolish for not understanding.

“I would stay back with father- to make sure he…” The words constricted in his throat. The Lady of Autumn hugged Eris again, tears welling up in both pairs of eyes.

“I know. I know. You are so brave, Eris. My sweet little fox, the boy who would string up the world for me.” Her words were always flowery and poetic- they always made the tips of his ears go bright red, but tonight he allowed them to find their mark as he hugged his mother tightly while her kisses littered the side of his head. Little Lucien, who squirmed when he realised he was missing out on the affections, stood up on wobbly feet as he grabbed his mother’s hand.

“Mamma, if I hang the moon on a sting, will you kiss me too?”

--- ⋆⁺₊✧˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆ ---

Your brows were furrowed in concentration as you planted your foot firmly on the ground, counting in before sucking in a breath as you went up on pointe, earning a grunt of approval from Gustav, who simply let the music play as you began to run through the steps of the solo. 

“Wrong- immediately. Your transition from the pas de deux should be seamless- as if he wasn’t even there. They are focusing on you- You are the one with the power- you are the one with eyes following. They will be watching your every movement.” 

Every word that left his mouth made you scowl harder, and your pirouettes became faster and faster, until you were a blur. A ‘thwack’ startled you, a stinging sensation against your thigh made you flinch and fall to the ground.

“Gus!”

“Wrong! All of it- wrong! What is wrong with you? Where is my jewel? Bring her back, instead of this monstrous thing. Money is on the line- my studio is on the line- prestige and fame for you is on. The. Line! Get it together. Again!” The orchestral backing seemed to rewind and restart, and your eyes glowered at the ballet master who simply inspected his nails, elbow leaning on his ‘discipline stick’, a thin, long piece of wood that ‘thwacked’ against the limbs of any sorry dancer who ‘lacked discipline’. You had been very familiar with it- an arch nemesis from youth, yet you let out a huff, which Gustav mocked, though you rolled your shoulders and resumed first position.

You danced- your arms swinging around as your legs carried you across the wooden floor. You saw glimpses of your reflection- and you weren’t at all displeased with what you saw. Strong, dedicated, pretty- Primrose would croon these at you prepared before a session, and they had found a mark in your heart as you paraded yourself around. You tried to push all the worries out of your mind for the moment, honouring the music that played by worshipping it with the graceful movements of your body, twirling and leaping- not like a dancer, but like a leaf on the wind. Like a stalk in the long grass. Like the pretty ember in a lantern.

Your heart raced in your chest, beating wildly despite the organised chaos of the accompaniment you danced to. All you had to do was dance- the rest would sort itself out, right? All you had to do was keep your head down, do your pretty dance, do it correctly and get the royal family of the Autumn court off your back. Then you could go back to being a normal dancer at a normal studio and pray that you weren’t swept up in the exodus that seemed to be occupying most of the Autumn Court. The shrill song of a violin pulled you out of the sea of thoughts just in time for you to complete a grand jeté before the coda started. As the steps got more complex- and dangerous, if you didn’t land them properly, you didn’t notice a bug eyed Gustav who had looked above to see a certain lordling glowering down at you- his russet irises blazing with an unreadable, but probably shrewd emotion as his eyes tracked your every movement while you danced.

You were having the time of your life- your blood always ran when you had to perform the more complicated sequences. Plié, pas de basque, pas de bourrée, glissade, a wondrous grand jeté- high enough for you to touch the ceiling if you really wanted to- land into another plié, and then, your favourite- the fouettes. You could get lost in these if you really wanted to, and perhaps you would, with the way you caught yourself smiling slightly in your reflection. Gustav hadn’t protested, or warned you not to go crazy, so you did the usual routine, body charging up to spin and spin and spin. A crescendo of the music made you stop spinning, and you saved yourself by doing a more ‘modern’ move as you tumbled across the floor, only to end up on your feet again, hands poised perfectly in the air in your finishing pose as the music slowly ceased. You laughed a little, amused at your ballet master’s silence before you noticed him staring at something, bug eyed and pale skinned. You realised he hadn’t looked at you at all, and your gaze followed, head tilting up until you noticed your voyeur, and froze momentarily.

What to do? Hiss? Swear? Burp really loudly and slouch? Throw something? A hiss from Gustav to ‘bow!’ made you slowly turn your head to look at him with blatant disgust, before your eyes slid back up to Eris, rolling them as your lip curled out and you let out a soft, delicate “Ugh.”

You heard something that sounded like a snarl and a squeak from Gus behind you, but you waved a hand, declaring airly, “I’m taking five!”

--- ⋆⁺₊✧˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆ ---

Eris’ face was the last thing you saw in your mind as you went to the studio’s small cafe to purchase a well-earned treat. It’s certainly handsome. Well- Grumpy, miserable-looking, arrogant, snobbish and so so so many other wonderful adjectives. But you had to give him credit… He was… pretty.

The croissant you purchased was steaming hot, so you tossed it in its brown paper bag between both hands, fingertips suitably warmed against the cool autumn weather. You walked along the hallway, your eyes focused on the large, golden gilded framed portraits of various dancers who had also traisped about the hallway you ambled through, croissant in hand as you appreciated each stroke of paint which captured their serious, serene expressions. You stopped in front of a painting to take a bite out of your warm treat- the clerk claimed it was filled with raspberry coulis, but you figured she was lying after the first bite, where you had bitten into nothing but fluffy, buttery goodness. The second bite was as uneventful as the first, but it was the third that made you jolt, as a hot, raspberry-ness flooded your mouth, your hand cupping under the treat a few seconds too late, before you heard a ‘splat!’, peeking down and swearing softly as raspberry hit the marbled floor.

“Oh… bloody… fuck.” You hissed, glaring at the dark pink splat, before stomping back to get tissues, kneeling down at your mess and sighing irritatedly- that would have been the perfect bite if the filling didn’t try to jump down your throat.

“Charming.” A voice replied, and you noticed the tips of brown, shiny leather shoes near your knees, making your eyes narrow. Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Eris Vanserra peered down at you, his grating voice a drawl as you slowly craned your head to peer up at him with an unamused glare, to which his lips quirked to the side in a crooked smirk.

“I hope you won’t be this uncouth when you perform for my family.” You immediately stopped kneeling, lest to give him any more of an inflated ego than he already has, and glowered.

“I don’t really care what you nor your family think of me.”

“Charming, indeed.” He hummed, russet eyes filled with a smug gleam, the light seeming to dance in his irises the more you glowered and frowned at him. You both stared at each other, you more hostile in your gaze than he, before you turned away to distance yourself and ignore him, only for his grating voice to sound off again, your ears catching his reply a little too attentively for your liking.

“You’ll have to accompany me to the Equinox ball even after you dance, by the way. It is custom- and honourable for someone like… yourself.” His eyes slowly scanned your face, meeting your eyes before they found something else on you to hone in on.

Oh, brilliant. Here we go.

“Someone like myself?” You repeated, raising an eyebrow as irritation made itself known even more than before.

“Of course. Independent, apprehensive, different. I’m surprised you can even bear to be in those impossible costumes and tutus. It’s like putting a bonnet on a bear.” His smile- mocking, unserious, condescending, was all you could focus on- your ears twitching at his tone of voice.

‘Apprehensive? Different! I’ll show him apprehensive-’

“Hah! ‘Different’?” You kissed your teeth, nodding before standing in front of his face, raising your coulis filled croissant and taking an aggressive bite, letting a small, thick glob of raspberry splatter onto his shiny, pretty shoes. Eris let out a small grunt as he stepped back, glaring down at his shoes for a long time, before his gaze lifted up to you, only to see your back as you had stormed off promptly, croissant in hand.

“You have something on your face, by the way!” His voice called out, in what you could only figure was mockingly. A hand raised up to the corner of your mouth, and you swore under your breath, yet you doubled down.

“And you’ve got something on your shoes!”

--- ⋆⁺₊✧˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆ ---

Eris blinked at the dancer down below, his eyes wide with awe. From the first time he had seen her at the start of the week, she managed to become more and more brilliant over time- as if each day that he didn’t see her, she became more talented and beautiful. [Y/N] was your name. [Y/N] [L/N].

He had seen you when you debuted for one of your more high-achieving roles- had taken his mother privately for a viewing of one of the ballets that had played in the amphitheatre when just after Amarantha had been destroyed- a celebration of freedom. Your rendition of Swan Lake, and your variation of the white and black swan had brought the Lady of Autumn to tears- how could a small thing like you capture the understanding of being trapped, of isolation and grief so beautifully? For a long time he had wondered about you- even at balls, where he waltzed around with other nameless women that could never compare to your poise and discipline- your fluidity and grace. Did you like to waltz? Were you shy and reserved? Angelic and sweet? Or were you alluring and confident? Seductive and playful?

Neither, he had decided when you looked up at him with your evident disdain, and your uncaring sneer. You were a third, greater thing. And you were absolutely magnificent. He realised there and then that he had to speak with you, even if just for a brief moment- he needed to feel the brunt of your fire firsthand. So when he had spied you walking through the halls so prettily, each step poised and perfect even off-duty, it made him feel strange. He just had to be close to you.

“Charming.” He mused, though he had paused when he realised he had spoken out loud. He wanted to correct himself, but your gaze knocked the air out of him, and he panicked- opting for his signature smirk to disguise his awkwardness. 

‘Whatever is going on, snap out of it.’ He thought harshly, before blinking as he realised he had been staring- so he spoke again.

“I hope you won’t be this uncouth when you perform for my family.” His voice was smooth, cool and collected like it usually was, and he was amused by your glower. Were you this angry all the time? It was oddly endearing, in a strange, funny way. Cauldron, your gaze was unforgiving. He wondered how many stupid males had been on the end of it.

“I don’t really care what you nor your family think of me.” His ears twitched slightly at that tone, and something stirred within him, making him want to smile. Oh, you were really funny when you were upset.

“Charming, indeed.” He nodded, a smile growing on his face as he admired you, enjoying the banter you two seemed to share.

“You’ll have to accompany me to the Equinox ball even after you dance, by the way. It is custom- and honourable for someone like… yourself.” His eyes slowly scanned your face, and he hoped he didn’t sound too excited when he mentioned it. He’d get to waltz with you, and show off his skills, and hope that you’d be as impressed with him as he was with you. He was too excited indeed, though he was curious with the way your irritation grew.

“Someone like myself?” You repeated, and he wanted to laugh. You were so silly!

“Of course. Independent, apprehensive, different. I’m surprised you can even bear to be in those impossible costumes and tutus. It’s like putting a bonnet on a bear.” He joked, enjoying himself greatly as he caught your attention and held onto it as long as he did. You were quite apprehensive, yes. Very grouchy and unagreeable, but still certainly pretty. He was proud of his ‘bears in bonnets’ joke too- that usually worked wonders with anyone he mentioned it to.

So why were you still looking at him like that? And did you know about the smear of raspberry under your lower lip? He wanted to tell you, or wipe it off at least when you spoke again.

“Hah! ‘Different’?” You made a noise that he recognised as irritation, and Eris watched you shift your stance, as if you were aiming to lob the pastry you had been eating at him. Had he misspoke? He watched you move closer to him, his eyes on your mouth as you raised the croissant and bit into it messily, letting a small, thick glob of raspberry splatter onto his shoes.

How inconvenient.

Eris let out a small grunt as he stepped back, blinking dumbly at his shoes for a long time, before his gaze lifted up to you, only to see your back as you had stormed off promptly.

“You have something on your face, by the way!” His voice called out in a weak attempt to be helpful.

“And you’ve got something on your shoes!”

Hah! She was certainly... spirited. That was no way to treat a Vanserra. She wouldn't last a minute in front of his father. Eris chuckled as he glanced down at his shoes again, clicking his tongue.

He'd simply have to come back and see you again.

╰┈➤ Lex's note 2: AHHHH it's done!! almost 3k AGAIN lmfao. i hope the dual p.o.v was good & made sense!!! if not, lmk and i'll stick solely to reader p.o.v only!! tysm everyone for the love this is getting! ch 3: 29/04 Week!! 🥹🫶🏼

[goldensunset]

ok i found it again here is the wretched ‘correct order’ in which to traverse paldea, in terms of the level that each objective is at

start at the bottom there and follow where the arrows point. lose your sanity. or just go from fighting for your life to easy breezing like a normal person bc why did they make an open world game without level scaling help meeee

[eri-pl]

Back to "the Ainur but they're mandalas": Sauron through the ages. I should do Melkor in this way too.

Yes, some are difficult to see (zoom please), that's part of the point/of the problem/whatever. The "why he was so tempted to be evil" thing.

I wonder how many of those are understandable (as in: what period is this). Guessed would be appreciated.

[the-derelicts-crew]

They have one brain cell and both of them are trying to use it.

[asexual-levia-tan]

in this case would it be called mororomantic?

[bubybubsters]

Best Friends Forever, Right?

a/n: loosely based off ‘When We Were Young’ by Adele!

wc: 750

*****

“But if by chance you're here alone Can I have a moment? Before I go? 'Cause I've been by myself all night long Hoping you're someone I used to know”

You arrived at the Forest House five minutes before the coronation of the new High Lord was due to begin. Moving to stand in the corner of the room, you scanned the guests. As Eris Vanserra’s most trusted spy and assassin, you’d been assigned to protect him and his brothers. You just hoped one brother wasn’t here. Memories plagued you every night. Of him falling in love with Jesminda. Of him leaving you for the spring court even when you’d been his best friend, his right hand woman. He’d abandoned you to the mercy of Beron Vanserra.

“Everything just takes me back To when you were there To when you were there”

But most of all, when you were promised something. You slipped back into the memory.

*****

“Hey Y/n? You know I love you right?” Your heart rate jumped. Hope igniting in your chest.

“What about Jesminda?”

Luci laughed. “No not like that silly, you’re my best friend.”

You really did feel silly now. “Yep. Of course.”

Lucien offered his pinky. “Best friends forever, right?”

You hooked your pinky within his. “Forever.”

*****

“Y/n!” Tamlin’s voice sounded, breaking you from your thoughts. The High Lord of Spring had been your friend ever since he’d found you half-dead from one of Beron’s interrogation sessions on Lucien. He’d offered to take you to the Spring Court with him but you couldn’t stand the thought of facing your best friend.

“Hi Tam. I’ve got to go. Eris’ brother Raven looks like he needs help from all the ladies.”

Tamlin laughed at you, “This is what your job has descended to? Saving Raven from ladies?”

You smiled and flipped him off over your shoulder as you slid between Raven and the females.

“Hi Rav! Wanna get a drink with me and go make out?” The females scowled and murmured as they stalked away.

“Thanks Y/n. You’re the best.” You hooked your arm through this as the final guests arrived.

The Day Court.

Helion leading his entourage with Lucien a step behind. You looked away, trying leading Raven in the opposite direction. But it was too late, he’d already seen his little brother.

You winnowed away. You couldn’t do this, face him after four centuries of silence. But he was still Lucien. Your Lucien. He looked the same.

“You look like a movie You sound like a song My God this reminds me, of when we were young Let me photograph you in this light In case it is the last time That we might be exactly like we were”

“Fuck!” You screamed, pounding on the nearest wall, welcoming the sting of pain. But… you could do this, talk to him. You had to. You just had to. Did he still remember you? You walked back to the celebration grabbing the strongest glass of wine you could find. You could do this.

Three hours later as the sun went down you still hadn’t talked to him. He’d been approached by everyone! Everyone wanted to get on the good side of the future High Lord of Day. But now, everyone was heading out and the room was empty except the 7 brothers and you. You approached your High Lord first, patting him on his now-crowned head in affection. Eris hissed and swatted your hand away as Raven shook his head watching you with a smile.

“And a part of me keeps holding on Just in case it hasn't gone I guess I still care Do you still care?”

You looked up and there he was, in all his glory.

“Oh, Y/n. Hi.”

That was all you got. After a century of being his best friend and supporting him through things. After going through a dozen sessions of Beron’s interrogation and not spitting a word about his glorious ass. All you got was a ‘Hi.’

“Lucien. Nice to see you’re doing so well after four centuries.”

You knew all his brothers were watching this, hearts breaking for you. They’d all taken turns (they called it required shifts) comforting you for two centuries. Telling you that Lucien wouldn’t just throw away a friendship like that. And yet here you were. Thrown away. Deposited. Trashed.

“Yeah well ummm. Eris could I talk to you?” And there he went, four centuries of waiting.

And he’d walked away.

He didn’t even look back.

*****

a/n: tbh I don’t like this one much, but here y’all go. (My writing is shit!)

tagging: @thelov3lybookworm @profound-imagination

[mybestfriendmademe]

Chapters: 35/35 Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Nesta Archeron/Eris Vanserra, Nesta Archeron/Cassian Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Forbidden Love, nesta getting the love story she deserves, Slow Burn, Revenge, Strangers to Lovers, Marriage of Convenience Summary:

A Neris story!

This story will diverge from canon ACOSF. It begins when Cassian takes Nesta on the hike.

This is so so so so good. If you like Neris, are ok with IC bashing, love all the emotions, and the thought of Nesta coming into her own and Eris supporting her through it, then this fic is for you!

[chunkypossum]

Come Hel or High Lord: Ch 17

Chapter 17: Hello Again

Words: 4800

Reminder: This is a crossover between all SJM series. So spoilers for TOG, ACOTAR, and CC

Summary:

Blah blah blah... Eris and Azriel eye fuck each other for a couple thousand words...blah blah blah

or

“Relax bat.” = Mission Impossible

Read on Ao3

“Walk with me?” Eris asked, too softly. Azriel felt his knees buckle at the request but he willed his spine to straighten and kept his face clear of any emotion. Though, he could not have guaranteed himself that something hadn’t flashed in his eyes.  The taste of apples on the back of Azriel’s tongue made his mouth water and he nodded before he had fully comprehended the question. Azirel didn’t fight this time. Some part of him knew that he would always bend to Eris’ will, whether he wanted to or not. Perhaps that was why he was always so angry around him. 

This is a cross over fic so a giant cast of characters and a big stupid storyline but Azris is my main bitch in this fic so ... Holla at ya boi if you want on or off the tag train : @talibunny30 @iftheshoef1tz @born-to-riot @fell-in-luvs @fieldofdaisiies @aktrain @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @secret-third-thing @acourtofladydeath @pippsmcgee @youvereachedthenearest-lovergirl @baileybird71 @skyesayshi @yanny-77 @areyoudreaminof

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

I’ll just be here with Mr. Eris Vanserra, please and thank you 🥵

[ladyescapism]

The Fourth Archeron Sister

summary: the baby of the family, Deirdre Archeron, is growing up and finding herself. on place she has already found is in a unknowingly requited crush with a certain shadow singer. will they be able to find each other? or will expectations, honor, and other forces get in the way?

Part 2

a/n: I think that this is going to be a 5 or 6 part series. i have the first 3 written and will post the other parts soon. happy reading!

warnings: none, I think

wc: 2,100

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She had been a mere six years of age when her mother died. She barely recalled the day she walked into her mother’s room, clutching Feyre’s hand. All she could really remember was her mother stroking her hair and whispered out her name. At least what started out as her name and then quickly faded into a cough. 

Deirdre had always been a sickly child. Every winter she got a nasty cough that lasted further and further into the spring every year, until it never went away fully. Her sisters would be banned from seeing her when she was sick, for fear of them catching whatever she had. 

Most nights, Feyre sat right outside the door and told Deirdre about what was happening that day with their father’s business or whatever she had done earlier. Elain would sometimes tag along and tell Deirdre about the flowers she had discovered in the garden. 

Sometimes, when they were in the mood for trouble, Deirdre sat in the center of her room and Feyre would sit in the doorway so they could see each other as they spoke. Once, Nesta walked past and Deirdre recognized her only by the scowl she threw in her direction. 

Nesta never sat with her.

By the time the Archerons lost all of their money and moved into the cottage and Feyre eventually ventured into the woods, Deirdre had turned 11 years old. Even though their home and family had changed, some things stayed the same. She was still sickly, Elain still rambled about flowers, Nesta was still mean, and Feyre was still reliable. 

Deirdre tried to ease the burden Feyre had on her shoulders. In the summer months, when the cough wasn’t as bad, she took job as a laundress. The steam helped her lungs feel better, but she was paid little and was always the last to be given work. 

Tamlin came when she was 16, stealing her favorite sister and shattering their already broken family. It did not matter to Deirdre that the lost shipments were found. The medicine was nice, as was having a live-in healer in the winter months, but she would have given it all back to have Feyre home. 

The mark Nesta left on her face when she expressed that sentiment lasted for weeks. 

She jolted back into the present as Nyx shouted in delight at one of his many Solstice gifts. 

Her peace didn’t last long as her brother-in-law nudged her shoulder. Deirdre turned to look at him to where he was standing behind the sofa. 

“Yes” Deirdre asked, not having heard what he had said. 

“I asked you what was wrong,” Cassian said, amused. “You have been staring into the fire for going on five minutes.” 

“Oh, just thinking.” 

“About?” 

Deirdre looked into his handsome face and remembered when Feyre came home as fae and she met him and his brothers. 

Nesta and Elain kept their distance when Feyre came home taller, ears pointed, and with that fae-like glow they all shared now. Deirdre had never run faster into her sister’s arms and staying like that until the sobs ceased. 

Then she met the brothers. 

To say she had been intimidated was putting it lightly. The males were menacing even as they tried to make conversation with the sisters. Nesta scowling, Elain nearly trembling, and Deirdre sat in quite curiosity, afraid to offend the males with her questions.

She would ask eventually, though. 

“Deirdre,” Cassian groaned. “Get out of your head and join the party.” 

“First of all, I am at the party,” she said, matter-of-factly. “And secondly, there is nothing wrong with being in my head. Although I can see how if the notion was applied to you, people would be frightened.”  

Cassian gave a small frown and Azriel let out a barely audible chuckle. 

At that dinner so many years ago now, Dierdre had finally understood what all her ‘friends’ had been talking about when they spoke of the men they found attractive. They way her heart fluttered when she saw him, the butterflies in her stomach, the sweaty palms. No human man had ever made her feel that way. She had seen handsome men, but no one compared to the Shadow Singer. 

No one had, his eyes, his hands, his jaw line that was perpetually covered in just a dusting of stubble or anything else she found attractive in him. His presence, his observant nature, his soft, yet deep voice that felt like a warm blanket coming over her when he spoke to her. 

“What do you mean?” Cassian said, feigning offence. “I am a joy to be around, inside and out. Right, Nesta?” 

Her eldest sister looked up from her conversation with Mor, hand resting on her well-rounded belly. 

“Yes, dear,” Nesta said with a smirk. “You are a joy to be inside.” 

Azriel let out a more substantial laugh as Mor and Rhys cackled. 

Rhys, Mor and Nesta all began cajoling a now grumpy Cassian and Dierdre felt a strange spike of jealousy pierce her chest. She knew at what. Nesta made Azriel laugh more than she did. 

Don’t be dumb, Deirdre scolded to herself. Nesta has a mate already and not to mention, you have no right to him. Just a stupid crush that should have gone away ages ago. 

“What were you thinking about,” Azriel asked. 

“My life before you came,” she said honestly. 

When Azriel raised his eyebrows, she quickly added on. 

“Well, you know. Before Feyre was taken by Tamlin and then when she came home fae and everything with Hybern and life since then. Just everything I have to be grateful for. Including all the extensions to our family. Like you.” 

Deirdre decided that she had had enough wine for the night after that little ramble. Azriel just sat there with the faintest smile on his face as she went on. 

He’s too kind to have to put up with my nonsense, Deirdre thought to herself. Just leave him alone. 

Deirdre was about to get up to go feign going to the bathroom when Azriel spoke. 

“I think about life a lot, too. Looking back, I didn’t recognize happy moments for what they were and focused on the past. I try not to do that now, but I still get stuck.” 

“I think you have to know sadness and struggle to be able to fully recognize the happy times.” 

“You’ve gotten wise in your old age, Dierdre Archeron.” 

They drifted off into a comfortable silence. 

“Yes or no?” Deirdre started the game she played with the brothers when she first became fae. “This is a happy moment.” 

“Yes,” he said with certainty. “But you don’t need me to tell you that.” 

“Nah, I was just making sure you knew.” 

 He just smiled at her, and she could have died happy right there.  

His eyes are just so damn pretty, the now tipsy voice in Deirdre’s head thought as he looked into her eyes. All of him is too damn pretty. 

Somehow, she managed not to tell him that.

Deirdre looked at the clock and noticed that it was almost two in the morning and decided she needed to go home. 

Feyre and Rhys tried to convince her to stay the night, but she wanted to return to her own space. 

“I want to take in the night air,” she insisted. 

“You’ll catch your death out there,” Feyre accused. 

“I’m fine, Feyre. The Cauldron fixed that for me, remember.” 

Feyre got quiet. 

“Still better not to risk it. Besides there are a hundred other bad things that can happen to a girl, alone, at night.” 

Before Deirdre could continue arguing with her sister, Azriel offered a suggestion. 

“I’ll fly her home.” 

“No, I really want to walk.” 

“Then we’ll walk.” 

“No-“ 

“You walk with him, winnow, or stay here,” Rhys interrupted. 

“Ugh fine,” she conceded, knowing that once Feyre and Rhys teamed up on her, there would be no arguing with them. “We’ll walk.” 

Dierdre kissed Feyre and Rhys on the cheek, everyone else either in bed by now or still partying. 

“Happy Birthday, sister.” 

“Thank you, dove.” 

They said their goodbyes and goodnights and they walked out the door. 

After about a block, Deirdre turned her head to Azriel and offered a suggestion she knew would be shot down. 

“I can walk home by myself you know,” she said, trying to sound strong. “I don’t need a chaperone.” 

He just gave her a look and knew that Azriel would be walking her to her apartment door and might check that there were no intruders when they got there. 

“Why dove?” he asked, probably trying to keep her from asking to walk home alone again.  

“When I was an infant, apparently whenever I saw Feyre, I would make this cooing noise,” she offered with no hesitation. “Feyre noticed that I would only make it when she was in my line of sight and decided that I sounded like a dove. And then proceed to call me that ever since.”

He made a small noise of understanding. 

“My father used to call me ‘Dew Drop,’” she said with no prompting. “He said my eyes looked like the sky reflected in the morning dew, so he deemed me Dew Drop. I don’t think anyone else has nick name for me. Unless you count Nesta calling me a rat my whole life.” 

“I don’t.” 

“Anyway, she said she called me a rat because I was small and carried disease. Feyre used to tell her to stop all the time, but she still would when Feyre was out hunting. I didn’t want to cause a fight, so I didn’t tell Feyre.”   

Deirdre’s rant faded and after a minute Azriel’s voice cut through the night. 

“My mother called me ‘my light.’ I don’t know why.” 

“That’s lovely.” 

The conversation ended as they entered Deirdre’s building and began to climb the stairs to her third story apartment. 

When they got to her door, Deirdre unlocked it and just as she expected, Azriel followed her in, flipped on the lights, and scanned the room, peeking into her bedroom as well. 

“Making sure I’m not hiding a boyfriend in here?” she joked. 

“The shadows told me that there was no one in here before we got to the second story. I was double checking.” 

“Oh, so just making sure I know how to keep house.” 

“I really don’t care about whether you made your bed this morning.” 

She giggled a little. 

“Can I get you anything to drink, or eat?” she said, trying to move the conversation away from her cluttered home. “Water, perhaps? I made some cookies the other day that should still be good. Well, milk would go better with cookies, and I have that too if you want.” 

Why can’t I ever play it cool around him? she thought. He’s a grown ass male. He doesn’t want milk and cookies. 

“I would love some.” 

“I will get them then.” 

Whew. 

She fixed the plate of cookies and two glasses of milk from the ice box and went to move some of the books currently piling her small table. 

Azriel beat her to it and looked at the titles before he placed them on the already cluttered coffee table. 

“‘Lessons in Love’ doesn’t seem to fit in with ‘The History of Pyrthian: Volume Six.’” 

“Well, a young lady has got to be educated in many subjects if she is to be pleasant company to those around her,” Deirdre said, quoting the mistress Nesta hired to “train the embarrassing nature” out of Deirdre.

“Educated,” Azriel mused.  

“Yes,” she affirmed, breaking a cookie in half and dipping into the glass. “It’s not like there is anyone around to teach me much about either subject.” 

“You could ask me.” 

She damn near dropped the cookie. And then she felt the flush creeping up her neck and onto her face. 

Gods, yes. 

No, Deirdre! What the fuck? 

“The history,” Azriel rushed out. “I meant the history.” 

“I- uh… excuse me,” she managed. 

She walked quickly into her bedroom and trough to the bathroom. She splashed her face with water, waited two minutes, flushed the toilet, and washed her hands. 

When she came back out, Azriel was standing behind his chair looking very uncomfortable.  

Ugh, she thought. I did that. Of course, Azriel, Spymaster of the Night Court and winner of the ‘Most Attractive Male in Pyrthian’ award five centuries in a row would offer to have sex with you, dumbass. 

“I’m going to go home now,” he said stiffly. “Thank you for the cookies. They were delicious.”  

“Okay,” she said with just as much tension in her voice. “I’ll walk you out.” 

She followed him to the door. 

“Good night,” she said, trying to make her voice light. 

“Good night.” 

Deirdre walked into her room and changed into a night gown. 

As she collapsed on the bed, she pondered just how much she messed up her and Azriel’s relationship. 

tag list:

@feysandzoyalailover @fanfictioniseverything @humanpersonlasttimeichecked @singhillada @marina468

[rex101111]

Eri in chapter 415! After so long! Aw, baby, looks as cute as always... ...hmmm? What? .....SHE'S DOING WHAT!?!?

[kavehater]

I’ll never understand younger siblings whining about their older siblings moving away like I bet yall were nasty and annoying too like wow all those years and you claim to adore the older sibling and post oh woe is me the older sibling abandoned me … girl … the older sibling didn’t have a parental certificate or anything.

[wellwhatisnttaken]

Through Miles of Clouded Hell

Part 3

————————————

Lucien and Jurian were to depart at dawn. In truth, besides packing their bags and preparing the horses, there wasn’t much to be done. Lucien had already explicitly written out his expectations for the Duke’s of each township and city within his kingdom, and warned of dire consequences if his instruction was not followed to the letter. Lucien had been king for barley more than a single moon cycle, and court politics required a certain passive malice and intense cleverness that Lucien had always found exhausting. He could navigate the court, of course ; after all he was his fathers son. But the trickery and coercion needed to bend most of his dukes and duchesses to any semblance of decency toward the common folk was absurd.

Lucien stared at the ceiling of his bathing chamber. One last bath before traipsing into the wild seemed a great idea just a bit ago. Now, the stress of the situation was well and truly catching up with him in the silence of his solitude.

WHACK

WHACK

WHACK

Lucien didnt respond to the knock on the door, he knew who it was, and knew Eris would come in, with or without permission.

His eldest brother, Eris, came strutting into the bathing chamber as if it were his own personal court. Eris was always important, and the situation always called for the utmost pomp and pageantry. If Eris had nothing, he had his dignity.

His brother came sauntering in, His wooden walking crutches click clacking on the tile. Eris flopped into the chair at the edge of the bathing chamber. It was an unspoken agreement not to engage each other when they couldn’t respond with the sarcasm and bite a brother deserved. So Lucien went about rinsing his hair as Eris caught his breath.

By the time Lucien rose from the tub and began drying himself, his brother spoke.

“Luci, I hope you know what you’re doing. Jurian informed me of the whole plan, and while i applaud your effort, it would be a terrible inconvenience if the only healthy and able of the Vanserras were to die on a mythic quest”. Eris didnt look at him, but he could feel the emotion behind his brothers words.

“Eris. You know as well as I do that if i dont do something, our kingdom, our people, our mother,” Lucien paused, and swallowed around the knot in this throat.

“Will die. You did your best. Hells, you barely had any chance at all. Im doing this for everyone that Baron tortured. For mother. For You. As insufferable as you are, you’re my brother, my advisor, one of my closest confidants, and i cannot lose you.” Lucien had finished dressing in his under layers by the time he was done. Usually, there was no occasion to get so personal , but if this was the last conversation he ever had with Eris, then he had to make it worth something.

His brother considered him for a moment.

“No need to be so emotional, Lucien. He replied softly. Then, back in his usual snobby court voice,

“Now come, let me braid your hair for the journey before the curse strikes me dead outright.”

————————————

Wondering when y’all are gonna realize I’m not a writer i just play one on tv. I have no idea what I’m doing

But ty for the support it means everything.

@thelovelymadone

@krem-does-stuff

@sanfangirl @yourethehero

@redphlox @iftheshoef1tz @vulpes-fennec

@ramim

[eri-pl]

Silm Advent calendar 5: Sand

Warnings: fire (visual), typical Silm level of impled violence.

Turgon knelt on the sand, pondering Lord Ulmo's words.

He would resist Morgoth the longest... His memory went back to the happier times, when the Enemy—then hidden back behind politeness and fair looks—always had seemed to avoid him. Yes, of course the hope came from the West, all came from the West, but it felt good to be a weapon of this hope.

He would resist.

He left the beach, contemplating the armor he had to make and the city he would soon move to. His city. The mightiest, hidden, impenetrable. Beautiful.

Turgon sat on his throne, amazed by the young mortal's words which seemed as powerful as if said by one of the Valar. (They had been said, it didn't feel that long ago. But this was his home, and it was mighty, hidden, impenetrable and beautiful.)

He would block the secret door.

Yes, that should do it.

Turgon hid in his tower, staying behind like— there was only one king who would not come to the battlefield. Better not to think about him now.

The Noldor would surely win, the city was mighty and beautiful.

Turgon knelt on the sand again, in the shallow water. Gems covered the brilliant shore, but his robes were now simple. (How long has it been?). The waves tickled his chest.

"I am a fool. I was utterly stupid. And vain, cowardly, and somehow unable to understand the simplest instructions. I have gotten all the people who trusted me killed. Except the ones my daughter saved but not thanks to me. I was a fool."

The sea roared and water sprayed his face as he spoke and spoke, but there was no answer. So he spoke further, closing his eyes to stop the tears from coming.

"I refused to listen, to care about anything outside my tiny hiding hole and I thought I was safe, I was willing to abandon everyone else and yet— And you had told me all that. In detail. And yet. I—"

A mighty wave slammed into Turgon and enveloped him save only his face. "You were a fool. But you are my fool. I forgive you."

He opened his eyes and cried into Lord Ulmo's arm, tears mixing with the seawater. They embraced for long, until the tide changed and the sun rose, painting the beach in gold.