#Eris one shot

[prythianpages]

A Man After Midnight | Eris x Reader

summary: though engaged to Sawyer Vanserra, you feel utterly and completely alone with only the company of autumn winds, blowing outside your window. that is, until, Eris shows up. Your man after midnight.

warnings: mentions of assault (reader gets touched against her will but nothing explicit or anything that goes beyond that), blood, bruises/abuse/bullying; reader having a panic attack

a/n: This originally was going to head a different direction but I decided to make it like a part three to this instead. You can also read this as a stand alone one-shot. I love ABBA and I knew I had to use this song. One of my favs but you'll find that I say that a lot. You can find the masterlist to my ABBA x ACOTAR series here.

Your eyes light up as you spot Sawyer stepping out from the High Lord’s study. Overridden with excitement, you eagerly fall into step with him, the sheer brightness of your presence outshining the dimly lit surroundings. You pay no mind to the fact that his other brothers, Hunter and Oliver, are not too far behind.

“Good morning, Sawyer! Will you walk with me?” you beam up at him with a smile. It's the kind of sight that would make many fall to their feet–that even Oliver wants to bask in the glow of.

But Sawyer? He doesn’t even spare you a glance, his dark brown eyes fixed ahead as he replies, his tone detached. “I’m doing that right now.”

You can hear his brothers snicker behind you–too close for your liking that it has you quickening your steps. “But I was hoping you’d walk with me in the gardens? Or maybe we can have lunch together? We are to be marri–”

“Our marriage is nothing but a business deal arranged by our fathers.” He cuts you in sharply and you find your resolve faltering.

“Love may not come from our marriage but perhaps, we can be friends?” You offer, hating the desperation that seeps into your tone, as you trail behind Sawyer.

Sawyer stops abruptly, causing you to crash into his chest and stumble backwards. You catch yourself, a hand rubbing at your forehead where you’re sure an imprint of the necklace he wears marks your reddening skin. Your betrothed looks down at you in a way no one has ever before. Ever since your father left, it appeared that so did Sawyer’s patience. It’s as if the male you met when you first arrived was a facade. Pure disgust simmers in his heated gaze and his nose wrinkles as he lets out a scoff, causing you to shrink back.

“Friends? I don’t want to be friends with you. I don’t want to be anything with you. You’re the bane of my existence.”

Tears sting at the corners of your eyes, and instinctively, you take another step back, as though the physical distance could somehow lessen the impact of his words. It doesn’t. Your lip trembles as a frown threatens to overtake your features. 

“How can you mean that when you barely know me?” you ask, your voice a mere whisper but you know by the way his steps stop, that he catches every word. So you decide to remind him and add: “I didn’t ask for this either.”

Sawyer doesn’t bother to turn around or answer you, simply choosing to keep walking away. Hunter pushes past you aggressively, turning to smirk at your distraught expression as he catches up with Sawyer. It is Oliver who stops you from colliding into the wall. He wraps an arm around your shoulder, steadying you and pulling you close to him.

“Oh, sweet girl, you’re too pretty to cry.”

Oliver’s free hand reaches up to grip your chin, forcing your gaze to him. His lips form a slight pout that contrasts the mischief twinkling in his amber eyes. He leans to lick the single tear trickling down your cheek and you wince. You want to run but his grip on you is strong.  

He then directs your attention forward, where Hunter has Sawyer in a similar hold. “Tell her,” Hunter says, gaze darkening with a thirst to torment. He flashes his teeth as his smirk widens. This is all a fun game to him. “Tell her why you don’t like her.”

Sawyer looks like he would rather die than answer Hunter’s demand. He glares at you as he struggles to free himself from his brother’s grasps but Hunter is much stronger. He realizes that he won’t be free until he says something. Finally, between clenched teeth, Sawyer answers. “She’s not my type.”

Hunter throws his head back in laughter, the sound echoing through the room with a dark and menacing resonance.

“What a shame,” Oliver says, his breath tickling your ear as his hand roams down the length of your neck. You swear your heart misses a beat when his hand stops right over the swell of your chest. His nails dig into your chest at your struggle to free yourself.  “She’s exactly my type.”

Your entire body tenses at the unwanted touch, eyes widening when you feel heat prick at your skin. The smell of burnt fabric reaches your nose and a chill permeates, displacing the warmth as Oliver lifts his flaming hand from you. You rush to cross your arms over your chest, desperate to cover your exposed skin from Hunter’s and Oliver’s hungry gazes.

“Just look at her,” Oliver continues, pushing you forward so harshly it sends you to your knees. His chuckle makes goosebumps rise on your skin. “So pretty, so docile.”

As you blink away tears of humiliation, your eyes remain fixed on Sawyer, pleading almost. He’s determined to look anywhere but you. You curl your arms tighter around yourself and lower your gaze. You don’t want to give the other Vanserras the satisfaction of seeing you cry. You suspect it will only prompt them to torment you further.

“Then have at her. I don’t care.”

Sawyer’s words reach you with a devastating force like the last blow. They pierce through the core of your naive heart and you can’t help the tears that escape and spill onto the floor. Hunter peels his gaze away from you to roll his eyes at his younger brother, releasing him with a rough shove.

“You’re no fun, Sawyer,” he says with a disappointed sigh, his expectation for a different response lingering unfulfilled. Hunter then looks back at you, you can feel his heated gaze, and you curl in further into yourself. “But it looks like you are.”

“What is the meaning of this??”

**

Beron’s cold eyes take in the sight before him, gaze sweeping over your slumped form on the floor. It’s Hunter who moves to speak but at the lift of Beron’s finger, his mouth closes shut. Beron comes to the conclusion that he doesn’t care as there’s other pressing matters to attend to. Such as dealing with your father and ensuring he keeps his end of the agreement. He turns to his oldest, who stands at his side with a perfectly donned mask.

“You deal with whatever this is.”

“Yes, father,” Eris replies with no hesitation and Beron pats him on the shoulder–the same shoulder he left a bruise on the other night.

Eris bites back a wince. He waits until his father is away from sight to take in the situation before him. The torches lining up the halls flare. With a simmering intensity that could rival a raging inferno, Eris turns his attention to the brother closest to him. The searing authority of his gaze has Oliver raising his hands in a gesture of surrender and stepping away from you.

“We were just having a little fun, brother.”

“Fun?” 

Eris releases a disbelieving exhale as he grasps onto Oliver’s shirt. He wants to burn his hand through his brother’s skin until he’s screaming and crying, the same way Oliver had intended to do with you. Because how dare he touch you, hurt you. It’s as if Oliver can hear the crackling roar of the fire burning within his older brother and his eyes widen in fear.

Under the weight of Hunter’s hawk eyes, Eris grudgingly settles on shoving Oliver further away from him. And you.

“If you want to have fun, go to a fucking brothel. This is our home.”

Oliver releases a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He doesn’t waste another second, happy to leave the hall before his brother can take back his mercy.

"And you," Eris seethes, his voice a low, rumbling growl as he turns to face Hunter next. Eris effortlessly surpasses him in both stature and might, looming over him like a formidable mountain casting its shadow. “Shouldn’t you be making haste to quell the riots in town? Or should I add that to your growing list of incapabilities?”

Hunter's fists clench at his sides, the dance of flames flickering along his skin, but in the presence of Eris, his fire pales in comparison. The fire raging within Eris burns brighter, stronger. A force that demands respect and obedience. Much like their father’s. Without uttering another word, he turns on his heel and leaves.

Stepping forward, Eris finally allows his gaze to fall on you and he feels a violent tug in his chest that threatens to weaken him. The desire to sink to his knees beside you and envelop your trembling form in his arms is an overpowering one, coursing through him like a forbidden current. Yet, the harsh reality holds him back. It’s too dangerous. He cannot act upon the fervent emotions that entwine his heart and it pains him, seeking to destroy him almost.

But he can’t just leave you there. Helpless. On the floor. So he masks his emotions–something he is well accustomed to–and dons a facade of annoyance. With a deft, almost dismissive motion, Eris removes his tailcoat, flinging it carelessly in your direction. The seconds stretch into a languid dance as your eyes, wide with surprise, meet his. You gratefully slip his coat over your smaller form, clutching it tightly to your chest.

There’s a bittersweet ache that lingers within Eris at the unexpected intake of breath you give.

A fleeting flicker of sweet agony passes through his eyes. It vanishes almost as quickly as it appeared, leaving you to wonder if it was a mere figment of your imagination. 

"And lastly," Eris starts with a deep sigh, the once-fiery intensity in his eyes dimming as he regards his last remaining brother. The only brother left that harbored some redeemable qualities but now, Eris questioned it.

"Is this any way to treat your fiancé?"

A ripple courses through Sawyer's jawline. “Why do you care?”

"I don't." Eris retorts with a glare. He's skilled at weaving falsehoods, and though this one is way far out from the truth, it slides effortlessly off his tongue like all the other ones. He immediately senses the weight of your gaze pressing into the expense of his back.

"But I do care about the consequences if she runs away. You should too."

Though it pains him, he doesn’t turn back around to you. He looks at Sawyer once more in warning. Then, he begins to walk away, every step pulling him further from the one he yearns to be with. Your gaze, burning into him like a relentless brand the entire time.

**

Weeks Later..

Autumn winds blow harshly outside the window as you look around your room. They mirror the melancholy that lingers in your heart. Your room is big and spacious, seems fit for a princess, adorned with sculpted art and paintings. In one corner stands a massive wardrobe crafted from the richness of dark cherry wood filled to the brim with a variety of dresses that would make any lady of your status swoon. Beside it, there’s a lovely vanity with golden carvings that hosts an array of makeup and beauty products. On the opposite side, is a desk that matches your wardrobe. It bears the weight of books, letters from your father, threads, unfinished embroideries and your untouched dinner. 

At a glance, it appears you have everything.

Yet, as you sit on the bed, a pitiful truth echoes louder than the winds outside. Your gaze meets a reflection in the full-length mirror positioned next to the desk, capturing the solemn expression that dances across your features. Dark, sad eyes stare back at you and the weight of isolation is evident in the downturned corners of your mouth. You miss your home. Your friends, your horse, your father, and gods do you miss your mother. 

Upon your arrival, eager anticipation filled your heart as you looked forward to getting acquainted with your future husband. You knew not to expect love to come from it as you were mere strangers but you had hoped for a friend. The promise of a lifelong companion, a partner to share laughter and weave a tapestry of memories together, stirred excitement and nerves within you. It’s what your father and mother had shared. Your foolish heart had eagerly counted down the days, each one a step closer to a shared future.

But now? As the appointed days draw near, the once-cherished anticipation morphs into a heavy sense of dread, casting a haunting shadow over you. Your husband to be looks at you as if you’re the scum on his boots.

The High Lord, your future father in law, is cruel and terrifying. You avoid him at all costs. Your future mother in law, Lady Autumn, is often busy and away. She helps you plan your dreadful wedding during the times she isn’t busy but you find that she is quiet and reserved. There’s a lingering sadness always present in her amber eyes that you assume comes from all the sorrow and grief she’s had to endure. You’ve met one of her sons–Lucien, you remember– during your travels with your father and you used to wonder why he no longer resided in Autumn but not anymore. You can only imagine the horrors he’s had to endure that made him leave.

Hunter enjoys berating you every chance he can. There’s a darkness that burns in him and you can’t help but think about what would become of you if Sawyer was interested in you. One day, while walking through the garden you overheard from some gossiping servants that Hunter was once married. His wife died shortly after the marriage and rumor has it that the frightening Vanserra had something to do with her sudden disappearance. They wondered if the same fate would befall upon you. A thought you didn’t want to linger on as it was absolutely terrifying.

Then, there’s Oliver. Though kinder, only in comparison to Hunter and maybe even Sawyer, he is not to be trusted. He undresses you with his eyes in every glance and vulgarly welcomes you to his bed. You do your best to stay away from him because as lonely as you are, you’re nowhere near desperate for his company, and fear the day he’ll grow wary of your constant rejection.

You find yourself, however, desperate for another’s. Eris. 

You haven’t seen him since that day Sawyer broke your heart, since he let Oliver make a spectacle out of you. Eris had been the only one you’d look forward to seeing during dinner and his noted absence was the reason why you stopped joining the Vanserra dinners yourself.

Days, even weeks have passed, and he hasn’t fulfilled the promise of returning your book, its absence on your nightstand a constant reminder. He hasn’t even asked for his coat back. It remains draped over your desk chair. He’s a rare sight to see when walking amongst the grounds of the Forest house, prompting a question to rise. Is he purposely avoiding you? The mere thought stirs an unexpected pain within you.

There’s no one here for you. 

A little over a month into your lifetime stay at the Forest house and you already feel so alone. So utterly and completely alone.

Suddenly feeling suffocated, you rise from your bed and head toward your favorite area of your room–the window seat. Kneeling on the soft cushion, your fingers reach to open the window, eyes fluttering shut in anticipation. The Autumn winds continue to howl through the darkness of the night but their chill does not reach you. Your eyes open and you raise your hand. A surge of electricity courses through you as your hand meets an unseen force. A magical barrier.

Turning your head toward the door, your gaze dips to the bottom where shadows dance. You can make out the planted boots of an Autumn guard and hope deflates. Nothing can come in. Nothing can go out. Not only are you alone but you’re trapped. 

A taste of what’s to come, of what’s to be of the rest of your miserable life. Lonely. Trapped. Locked away into oblivion. No breath you take is enough as you’re suffocated by the storm of emotions flooding through you. This place is your hell. Impending doom. You’re going to die here. Alone. There’s not a soul out there…

Water. You should drink some water. Tremors take over your body as you make your way toward your nightstand. Water spills onto the floor as you pour yourself a glass. You bring the water to your lips but your throat feels like it’s closing up. You glance at the pocket watch on your nightstand and notice it’s half past twelve.

There’s not a soul out there…

You extend your hand towards the watch—a cherished heirloom passed down from your mother. The gentle, rhythmic ticking of it has long been a source of solace and comfort for you. But it’s too late.

The hand clutching onto your glass of water shatters against the dark wood of your nightstand as you clutch the watch to your racing heart. You can only pray to the Cauldron, the Mother, to anyone as the room spins around you. But there’s no one to hear your prayer…

There’s a deep agony in your chest that tightens with every passing second, an inescapable loop of gloom that envelops your every thought and emotion. There’s not a soul out there. You can’t breathe. No one to hear your prayer…

“y/n.”

You catch the faint murmur of your name being called, yet a lingering doubt creeps in. You must be going mad because there’s no one here for you. Not a soul—

“y/n.”

And there it is again. Your name is being called. Louder, firmer this time. It’s real. The cruel clutches of your sorrow that held you captive begin to shatter like your glass from earlier. The sound of your name acts as a lifeline, pulling you from the depths of despair you inadvertently locked yourself into.

“That’s it. Breathe with me, angel,” the soothing voice persists, a gentle anchor for your drifting thoughts. And you can finally hear it. Your beloved watch. Though it's fast, it becomes a comforting undercurrent, a familiar melody that helps steady your racing heartbeat.

You feel like you can finally breathe again. As you blink away the haze clouding your vision and come back down, you are met with a pair of familiar amber eyes. The warm hues flicker like flames as they fixate upon you. Intense but tender and full of concern.

**

“Eris.”

You breathe his name so heavenly, like an answered prayer as you take him in. His dark red hair is tousled as though he emerged hastily from a slumber. Adorned in a thin, un-tied linen shirt, the fine contours of his chest are revealed, and his pants, creased as if donned in urgency, complete the picture of a man who arrived in haste yet with purpose.

"You're here," you say, your tone teetering on the edge of question and you glance toward your door, confirming that the Autumn guard is still stationed there.

You called, he wants to reply but instead, settles on, “I’m here.”

“How?” You ask, aware of the wards in your room preventing winnowing. At first, you thought they were meant to protect you. Now, you’re aware they’re really meant to keep you from escaping.

The corners of his lips lift into a small smirk. “I have my ways. I know every secret tunnel, every little crevice of this estate.”

Your head turns, eyes scanning your room in search of said secret tunnel. Eris lightly grasps your chin, focusing your attention back to him to keep you from spotting the secret door hidden behind your full length mirror. He wipes at the lingering traces of tears on your face, watching as your eyes dip and fixate on the golden chain encircling his neck. A sigil of three hounds captures your attention—an emblem unfamiliar to your discerning gaze, sparking a curiosity that mingles with the relief flooding your senses.

He finds his own breathing to steady at your calming state but at the sight of blood trickling down your hand, a knot twists in his stomach. “You’re hurt.”

You pull your gaze from his necklace, eyebrows furrowing as you look up at him. “I thought you didn’t care,” you tell him, echoing his words from the last time you saw him.

Again, Eris does not answer you. His eyes scan your room for a moment before abandoning whatever he was searching for. In his haste to aid your bleeding hand, he’s slipping his shirt off without another thought. 

“It’s fine,” you insist.

“No. It’s not.” He shakes his head at you as he guides you to the window nook. If only you knew the effect you had on him. The horror that crashed over him like a bucket of ice cold water, waking him so abruptly from his sleep. At your pain. Your agony. It nearly destroyed him the way it had been destroying you.

Eris pushes you gently to sit while he uses his shirt to wipe your blood off, frowning to himself when he can still hear the irregular beat of your heart. Too engrossed in cleaning your injury, he fails to catch on that the fluttering rhythm of your heart is now stirred by an entirely different source.

His expression transforms into one of genuine surprise as he encounters the gentle skin of your palm. Untouched, unmarked. His gaze flickers back to the shattered pieces of glass by the foot of your bed and then back to your hand. There’s no way. Not even with your healing abilities as a high fae. The amount of blood he had seen, the stinging he had felt through the bond–

“I told you it was fine.”

“But you’re not.” Eris counters and sucks in a sharp breath. “Angel–”

“Neither are you.” You point out, deftly redirecting the focus from yourself.

Your glistening eyes, pools of concern, flicker toward him. Toward his chest, where scars from injuries that had not healed properly and lingering bruises taint the muscles beneath, painting an alarming image. 

Eris averts his gaze, withdrawing slightly, reluctant to confront the vulnerability of the moment. Though your touch is gentle, the softest caress, his entire body tenses at the unfamiliar sensation. Your palm presses against a nasty scar that runs down the length of his abdomen, making him shudder at the memory it came from.

You suspect the answer but you can’t stop yourself from asking anyway. A blend of hurt and anger seeps through your voice.  “Who did this to you?”

Eris stands abruptly, caught in the tumult of conflicting desires–of longing to bask in the warmth of your touch and the simultaneous impulse to flee from it. “You should go to bed,” he says, voice strained. “Get some sleep.”

You stand up as well. “But I’m wide awake.”

“That’s not my problem.”

“Eris, please,” you nearly beg and he finds his feet rooted to the ground. He watches as you walk over to your chair, retrieving the coat he let you borrow. You extend it toward him–a silent promise you won’t push him further on his scars.  “We can talk about other things.”

He feels his throat tighten at the urgency in your eyes.  “Like what?”

"Like…" Your voice trails off, your attention turning to the scattered items on your desk. "Embroidery?" you suggest, showing him one of your unfinished projects. It’s an outline of a yellow flower he has seen before but cannot recognize at the moment. 

"You want to talk about...embroidery?" His tone lightens, a subtle easing of tension as he slips into his coat and watches you raise another one. Unlike the first one you showed him, this one is finished and beautifully depicts a white horse with a brown mane and tail.

“This one is of my horse,” you share with pride, a subtle smile gracing your face. The warmth in your expression acts as an irresistible pull for Eris, compelling him to sit back down. "His name is Maximus.”

"I think I miss him the most," you add, the smile on your face faltering. 

It prompts Eris to speak–to keep it from falling. “It’s beautiful.”

Your smile, like the sun breaking through clouds, brightens once more. You’re beautiful, he wants to add.

“Would you like me to teach you?”

Even though he knows he should leave, he finds himself nodding. Because the prospect of your smile faltering, of you returning to your state from earlier becomes an unbearable thought. 

He secures a glamor in your room to keep the guard outside your door from hearing you. Having spent centuries studying the wards in every room, he’s learned how to unravel some pieces of them. Eris allows you to teach him the craft of embroidery. He tries to take in every instruction of yours and finds himself not lost in the craft but lost in the light in your eyes, the delightful curve of your smile as you speak.

As the daughter of a powerful and influential merchant, you’ve stayed in every court and have so many captivating stories to tell. You speak so highly of your father that he doesn’t have it in him to tell you about his dark truth–the real reason behind your arranged marriage. The delicate pricks of the thin needle against his fingers go unnoticed, drowned out by the melody of your laughter, which proves irresistibly contagious. The bond in his chest hums with a resonance that echoes through his being. He wonders, a smaller part of him fervently hoping, if you can feel it too.

Eris stays until your voice trails off–until the heaviness of your eyelids becomes an insurmountable burden, causing you to slump against the softness of the pillows. The temptation to tenderly brush your hair back from your face is strong, but he restrains the impulse.

“Eris?” Your voice, laced with the soft tendrils of sleep, reaches him.

“Yes?”

“Does this mean we’re friends now?”

The word—friends—sends a pang through him, but nevertheless, he manages a gentle "yes," reluctant to shatter the moment by uttering the truth that lies beneath the surface of his emotions. He doesn’t want to be your friend. He wants to be more than just your friend. 

A soft content hum comes from you, the only response you can manage. Mindful not to disturb your peaceful slumber, he beckons one of the blankets from your bed with his magic before carefully draping it over your curled up form at the window nook. He quietly draws the curtains shut, shielding you from the intrusion of the rising sun. He positions the embroidery hoop, adorned with the laughable but endearing image of the heart he crafted, beside you. He turns to leave but sneaks one last glance at you. Only then does he allow himself to truly smile.

Eris does not return the following night, even though he desperately wants to. Caution dictates his actions, a week elapsing before a clandestine note passed in the hallway signals his quiet return to your room. It’s during this second visit that he inevitably gives away the hidden door in your room. They lead to the house’s secret tunnels, one only Eris knows well. He promises you to take you through them one day.

It’s half past twelve and as the autumn winds blow outside your window, you're not alone this time. Eris is there with you, weaving conversations that never seem to run dry. An unspoken agreement unfolds–to keep your growing friendship hidden and away from everyone. He continues to sneak into your room, always warning you beforehand as to not scare you. The sacrifice of sleep on these nights becomes inconsequential, for both you and him.

Eris helps you chase your shadows away, taking you through the darkness to the break of the day. Your man after midnight. The soul that heard your prayer.

**

A wrought-iron table, nestled under a cascading canopy of amber leaves, holds an exquisite spread of breakfast delicacies. The air is laced with the enticing aroma of freshly brewed tea, mingling with the sweet fragrance of the flowers that surround you. Lady Autumn, whose name you learned is Raelynn, sits across from you. Her eyes, as deep as the autumnal twilight, reflect warmth back at you–no traces of the lingering sadness you’ve witnessed before in this moment. 

“My apologies, my dear, for not inviting you to breakfast sooner.” Even her voice is as warm as her gaze. “I know this court is not an easy one to adjust to.”

You find yourself smiling in reassurance back at her. Because you understand. If you were her, you’d also be wary of any newcomer.

“Eris tells me you enjoy embroidery?” Lady Raelynn says, a knowing smile playing on her lips as she brings her cup to her mouth. “Among other things.”

“I do,” you answer politely, gaze drifting to the perfectly tended lawn across from the patio you sit at. Targets for archery are neatly arranged.  There’s an arrow embedded into the bull’s eyes of every one of them.

Lady Raelynn follows your gaze. “Are you interested in archery?”

Yes, you want to say and though you find comfort in Lady Autumn’s presence, you're wary of her reaction. What if she deems it unlady like? And decides to forgo any relationship you’ve desperately clung to the hope to?

“I don’t know much about it,” you reply, choosing a diplomatic response.

 “I can teach you.” Lady Raelynn’s smile morphs into a grin. A gasp escapes you, and realization slowly etches itself into your features. “I think we’ll get along just fine,” she laughs, her words sparking hope within you.

“Good morning mother, I’ve come to–” Both of your heads turn to find Eris. He halts mid-sentence, his gaze locking with yours, a flicker of surprise and something deeper dancing in his eyes. It has you averting your gaze with a slight warmth tinting your cheeks.  “I should leave.”

“No, stay,” Lady Raelynn insists with a graceful incline of her head. With a wave of her hand, a plate full of food materializes at the empty spot between you and her, a silent invitation for Eris to join.

Eris bows his head at his mother, acknowledging her command. He takes his place at the table, his movements a bit awkward at first. As he settles in, he can't help the warming relief that washes over him at the sight of both you and his mother taking his advice. He remains relatively quiet throughout breakfast, choosing to chime in only when necessary. He’s content to bask in the soothing cadence of your conversation with his mother, indulging in stolen glances at you that linger.

Something that does not go unnoticed by his keen mother nor the way his grip tightens around his fork at the mention of your upcoming wedding.

Lady Raelynn didn’t mean to spoil the mood but she had taken it upon herself to help you plan the ceremony and reception. Albeit, reluctantly at first. That all changed after getting to know you better. Although the marriage would not be to the man of your dreams, she was now determined in ensuring that the wedding would be. It was the least she could do for you, especially after learning about the mistreatment you had endured at the hands of her sons. 

“I hope my son is treating you well?” Lady Raelynn asks you, carrying a note of concern. Her observant eyes catch the brief exchange between you and Eris, not missing the slightest tint that graces his cheeks. At least one of them is. She suppresses a smile as she awaits your answer.

“Sawyer is…” your voice trails off hesitant because he’s barely spoken to you since the incident. One of the rare occurrences being where he randomly met you in the library. He had reluctantly engaged in conversation with you, awkwardly asking what you missed the most from home. A spark of optimism brightens your tone because for once, you do have something good to say about him.

“He is actually arranging for my horse to come here! It’s silly but my horse was my biggest companion back home and I’ve been feeling a bit homesick recently.”

“It’s not silly at all, my dear. Once your horse is here, let's arrange for a morning ride. The Autumn grounds are the most peaceful in the early hours."

Your smile reflects the gratitude in your heart as you look at Lady Autumn. She, in turn, observes her son, who raises his tea to his lips, attempting to conceal the small smile playing on his face. It does nothing to mask the gleam in his eyes. Lady Raelynn is well aware that the sweet gesture is not Sawyer's doing. It's Eris's.

a/n: sooo I'm literally just going with vibes for this series (vibes to songs as that is what inspires most of these.) I wanted to write a slow burn but tbh, I think I'm too impatient for that 😂

When it comes to Sawyer, I do want to explore more of his character. I know that in canon, the Vanserras are menaces but I'd like to hope there's at least one more redeeming brother. I feel like him and reader can fall into a relationship similar to that of Rhaenyra and Laenor from House of Dragon. I also am still stuck between having the marriage actually go through or something drastic that happens that keeps it from happening. Either way, it will be angsty. I left some references in this from a movie that may prompt for more references from said movie. Any guesses? 👀

tagging: @fxckmiup

[imaginesmai]

His precious treasure - Eris Vanserra

First time writing for Eris! Let me know what you think

Plot: Beron manages to ask the right questions at the wrong moment, making Eris suspicious of your safety. His hidden treasure in the forest, where he cannot get fast enough.

Warnings: mention of torture, death and blood.

His steps resonated through the long corridor, servants and guards bowing to his presence. They never met his eyes, not even when he was just a young prince who barely reached their waists. He used to fool himself thinking it was out of respect, out of fear. But Eris had learned that it was easier to ignore the problems of their loved court, the abuse, when they didn’t look at him.

Countless times he had walked down those corridors with blood streaming down his face, bloody nose and bruised eyes. Burned flesh and peeled skin. It used to bother him their indifference, but that day, he barely paid them any attention.

All his focus was set in leaving the palace he called home as soon as possible without looking suspicious, without letting anyone know the terror that threatened to paralyze him.

Eris could feel his eye bruising, the burn marks on his back and chest from his father later outburst. He didn’t mind the abuse, could endure it just fine. What was breaking his soul in two were the answers his father looked with that abuse, and that he had managed to hide. But Beron was asking questions he shouldn’t have been formulating.

“Tell me, my son. Why do I keep receiving notices of your disappearances? Why are my guards worried that you might be lacking in your efforts to keep this court standing?” Beron had asked before backhanding Eris in his office. “Should I be worried about your not-so-subtle trips to the forests?”

The excuse had fallen from his mouth naturally, like he had always planned. Testing the borders for possible threats, assuring the outer posts were functioning correctly, searching the ground with his hounds.

Eris had swallowed every hit and humiliation with a tight jaw, only answering when he was spoken to. He had closed you off the bond and hoped to be strong enough for you not to notice. Then, Beron’s had asked him that damned question and his resolution had cracked.

“You look distracted lately, maybe that’s why you keep forgetting to update me about your whereabouts” Beron snarled, as if the sight of the blood spilled by his hand unsettled him. Then, he locked his eyes with Eris and fire danced behind them, and he smiled. “Maybe it’s the recent lack of servants what has your mind busy. Strange and unexplained disappearances, right?”

He was sure Beron had bought his indifference, or he wouldn’t have let him go. But he still raced through the hallways, a bad feeling twisting his gut. Running would catch too much attention, yet he knew leaving after his father’s questions was an answer by itself.

Eris prayed to the Cauldron, to whoever had unanswered his prayers through his life, that he arrived to the cabin with enough time to make things right. If Beron was asking about missing servants, he could only be talking about you. The kind-hearted lesser fae who had the misfortune of being his mate.

Three years ago, Eris had almost burnt down the entire court one of his brothers got a little too handsy with you. As a servant, you were supposed to endure it and be thankful for his attention. But your heart belonged to Eris Vanserra in secret for almost a century, and you had denied his unrespectful advantages. That earned you a beating that had left you unconscious in the middle of the backyard, where Eris’ hounds had found you.

After weeks of healing in secret and convincing him not to slaughter his own court and find death at the hands of his father, only the promise of your safety had kept him still. He had taken you away to his hidden cabin, where you had been staying part of a cozy side-town, where no one recognized you.

Thoughts of the last three years flooded his mind as he jogged the last steps of the castle, quickly hoisting himself up in his horse and riding off into the forest. He pushed his mare to her limits, until the ground and the trees were nothing but blurry colors.

He wouldn’t waste time thinking why his father hadn’t acted yet, why he had been granted those few minutes to try and save you. The answer was clear when he smelt the uncharacteristic trace of blood in the quiet village.

Eris dismounted without stopping, his mare moving restlessly in the familiar cottage. His heart pushed furiously against his chest, blood rushing to his ears when he noticed the door hanging open by an unnatural angle. Male scents and horses’ prints were all over your hidden cabin.

“Y/N!” he screamed your name, not caring about anything but your safety. With everything about to change, he could throw secrecy as the last of his priorities. “My love, where are you?”

No answer came from the outskirts of the house, and Eris all but threw himself inside. The beating he had just endured almost sent him stumbling to the ground.

The insides of the cabin were a mess, just like his soul. Scattered papers and wooden furniture, broken plates, shattered windows. Fire embers started to fill the messy space as his laborious breathing turned panicked. He leaned against the wall where pictures lay now crooked, and tried to think what to do.

Where to look, who to kill, how to survive knowing his worst nightmare had come true. Eris had always feared having a mate, having someone to love and that loved him back, because he knew the world would take it away cruelly.

What he didn’t expect was the stairs creaking under your weight, and your disheveled head poking through the stairwell. Your eyes widened, at his state, his presence, or his blood. But he didn’t consider much apart from the fact that you were still breathing, somehow, and alive enough to be standing.

His body gravitated forward until you collided into his arms, the composure he had kept during the last hour crumbling like paper against water.

“Eris” you whispered against his chest and his breath hitched, your voice so concerned and soft against his worries. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“You’re alive. You’re alive” he repeated, twice, and willed himself to believe it. “I thought – the door was open, and you didn’t answer. Why didn’t you answer? I called. Didn’t you – didn’t –“

“I didn’t know if it was you. It’s been…”

You trailed off, it wasn’t necessary to acknowledge the obvious mess. Eris pressed you tighter against his chest. Just like those nights where nightmares consumed him, where his father’s reign of terror was too much, he hugged you so tight that your bones creaked under the pressure. You didn’t mind when it was the only thing holding him together.

It was silent for no longer than three seconds, the amount of time it took for the first and only tear to roll down his bruised cheek. If he let himself any more time, if he let his guard down, none of you would make it out of there alive.

Eris ignored the rough phantoms hands he could still feel on his body, the feeling of his father’s fingers tugging on his hair and crushing his throat. His touch was soft and careful as he pulled you away and inspected you with bright eyes. Only a gash on your cheek and a light limp on your left foot. Even if your dress was stained, he didn’t find any threatening injury.

He pushed the anger once more down his chest, until he turned it into resolution.

“How many?”

“Three of Beron’s personal guard. Rookie heard them before they came and I could hide” you motioned with your chin to the enormous dog that guarded the back door, on four and alert. “She took care of the first one, and the other two… it was them or me”

“You did well” Eris whispered, cupping your cheek and brushing his thumb under the bleeding wound. “Where are the bodies?”

Those deaths would haunt you for a while. His innocent, kind mate who had been the only one brave enough to risk sending him pain tonics after his father’s beatings. Who took care of his dogs when he couldn’t leave the bed, and stubbornly stayed by his side as he pushed you away.

Eris followed you silently to the first floor, to your bedroom. Where you had spent so many nights tangled together, now three bloodied bodies stood. He could identify which one had been finished by Rookie, their face unrecognizable. His father’s personal guard embroidery stood bright on their uniform, and it threatened to make him vomit.

He fished their bodies for weapons, ignoring the urge to kill them all over again slower a crueler. When he finished gathering what was worthy, he guided you out of the room, his arm around your shoulder.

“Don’t look” he advised you, pressing you tighter when your body trembled. “We’ll be okay”

You had talked about that outcome for three years, and you had spent each borrowed minute like the last one. It wouldn’t be forever, you understood, so you had crafted a plan. An emergency plan that you needed to carry out.

Eris didn’t let you take anything and you didn’t stop to grab your belongings as he lit fire to the cabin behind you. Each step you took made your knees tremble, knowing that Beron had once more managed to drown any hope in your life for your relationship.

Heat scorched both your backs as you exited the cabin, now full ablaze. Eris’ mare was dutifully waiting at the entrance, with the dozens of neighbors that were gathered in a half-circle. They all scattered when Eris walked out, and didn’t get to see how your knees finally gave out. With just one arm, he managed to keep you standing against his chest and grab the reins.

His whole body tensed under the weight of your sobs, that racked your body in sadness. Twice now, he had seen your life crumble because of him, because of who you loved and loved you back. Until Beron was dead, until his body was cold and forgotten, there wouldn’t be a place in Prythian safe from his hands.

And no matter how much it pained, only one was safe enough to last until he killed his father. Or died trying to.

“Y/N” he whispered against your sobs, against your desperation. He held you firmly as you shook your head in denial without looking up from his chest. “It’s time, my love. We don’t have much time”

Maybe his father was stupid enough to think three men were enough to kill you, but they hadn’t returned and Eris had left – and, surely, his father himself would come to end with his son’s happiness and will to live.

Shadows gathered around his feet, but he didn’t look to the owner nor acknowledge the new presences in his court, in his forest. He had long ago granted them access for that day, had supplied them information for his part of the bargain.

Rhysand and his court had kept their promise.

“I don’t want to” you cried, so hard and fearful that his resolve shook. Yet your safety, your life, had always been his one priority.

“It’s for the best. Look at me, Y/N” his voice didn’t harden, he didn’t slip into the mask he wore around them for your sake. “Y/N”

His own voice was broken too, with despair and agony. He too dreamed for a world where he could hold you freely, where he didn’t need his worst’s enemies help to keep his mate alive. But those dreams were not for people like him. Still, he held onto that thread of hope that he would make it through tonight. That, tomorrow, he would comfort you like you deserve, endure your berating about his selflessness and kiss your tears away.

When you finally looked at him, he smiled, ignoring the surprise radiating from his unusual partners. Eris waited until your sobs subsided and you calmed enough to accept the next step.

In silence, he let his eyes tell you everything he didn’t allow himself to say. How grateful he was for your soft hand when no one else dared to help you, for your patience words against his lashings when you helped him. How sorry for each and every scar you carried from his court, his brothers and father, and for not being able to give you the life you deserved.

How much he loved you, witch every fiber of his being, until he was nothing more than embers and ashes, and beyond.

Eris pressed his lips wordlessly against your forehead, his hands holding your head in place. Your own circled his scarred wrists. With the glamour off, everyone could see the scars and marks on his body. You caressed the rough skin and held him tight, until he tore apart.

“I love you. And if I die tonight, know that your love was what has kept me alive for so long” he watched your glossy eyes, your shaky lips. “I only burn for you, my little fox”

“They’re here” Azriel talked, his voice breaking your daydreaming.

A soft spark of proudness lighted in his chest when Azriel tried to gently guide you back and you brushed him off with a stern look. Your eyes, kind and loving for him, were hard and unforgiving for the spymaster. Eris knew they would treat you well, would take care of you, and was sure you would give them hell for him.

You looked at him one last time, sad resolution in your eyes, and kissed the edge of his lips before stepping away. With your torn dress and blood over you, you looked like every inch of mate he adored and cherished.

Azriel finally gripped your wrist with an annoyed frown, and shadows swarmed both your beings just as the first group of soldiers rounded the edge of the town. They wouldn’t be the problem, but the High Lord who rode behind. Eris didn’t allow any of his fears or worries show when he kept eye contact as you disappeared with Azriel.

“Come back for me” you begged him one last time, cracking once more his already broken heart. “Please, my prince. Come back”

“I love you”

He let those words be the last thing you heard from him. Eris was powerful, but his father could crush him like a leave under a boot. Maybe Rhysand would keep to his promise and keep you safe – and still loose you against his father’s armies. Eris was just happy knowing he would die knowing what being loved by you felt. How your arms felt around his shoulders, your breath against his neck.

Eris would die happy because you had chosen him when even he hadn’t chosen himself.

The sound of horses and men screaming got more intense when you disappeared, and the prince prepared himself to face one last battle. His fists lighted up with bright fire, his body vibrating with energy.

He expected a wave of angry soldiers from his right.

Not a stony-face Rhysand looking at him with a raised brow.

“You do love” he proclaimed, his voice laced with curiosity and something else. “I was tempted to believe she was just another one of your tricks. One that assured you your climb to the throne”

“I have business to attended, in case you can’t tell” Eris grumbled, letting loose the rage and anger. “So if you would be so kind, please fuck off”

The first round of autumn males broke through the left with raised swords and angry scowls. Some of them had fought by Eris’ side in the last war, some of them had been by his father’s side as he beat him.

Neither of their faces was marked in Eris’ memory, as they all vanished away to a terrible darkness that swept them off. As if they had never existed at all. The prince’s fire died down a bit as he looked at the High Lord, who had taken his hands out of his pocket and whose violet eyes were shinning dangerously.

For all explanation, Rhysand shrugged and gave away no intention of leaving with Azriel and his court.

“I made a bet on you when we made that bargain. A bet on a new high lord that would change things with me” Rhysand stared at him and Eris didn’t break eye contact, too stunned to speak. “Wasn’t certain it was the right bet, but now I am. I hope we both get to withdraw the price”

Without another word, the world was consumed in a wave of darkness, Beron’s power emerging not so far away. Eris let himself become fire in the dark, brighter than ever, and with the memory of your last smile and the possible hope of a world with you, he launched himself into battle.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

[acourtofmenandthirst]

Closed Until Further Notice

Oh my god this was WAY longer than anticipated and I wasn't planning on making it like spicy, but it's been a while so I threw some at the very end ;) this is Eris x Cafe Owner ! Reader / trope, it was very cute so I hope I captured the idea well enough for the anon who requested it!

Word Count: 10.3K

Warnings: Cursing, Smut

Eris wouldn’t say he frequented the small towns scattered throughout the Autumn Courts, nothing more than a yearly visit or two, normally just for an inspection called upon by his father. He usually came on horseback, flanked by his soldiers in their shining armor, and strolled through the town for a quick survey. He nodded politely, quick to make his way through the town without disturbing any of the residents. No matter how nice he was, how civil and respectful he was, they still cowered from him - hid in their homes and shut their shop doors when he passed through.

But there was one town, nestled just past the forest in the valley of the mountains right before the Winter Court, that Eris took his time visiting. That’s exactly what it was, in fact: a visit, not an inspection - no surveillance, no prying. He traveled there alone, winnowing to the outskirts of the village, taking his time walking down the main street. Stores and homes littered the dirt road, nearly frozen solid from the Winter wind that blew across the border; he walked along the stone sidewalk, past the brick houses and the shops built up from the redwood trees. 

At the center of the town stood the bakery, a hand painted sign that spelled it out in fine script. The chalkboard was propped open on the walkway, the specials written in swirly cursive. Eris bit the inside of his cheek to hide the smile that crawled up his lips, eyeing the Topfenstrudel you’d written no doubt early this morning - probably before he’d even woken up. You’d listed a few teas below it, fruit sauces, and spices to pair it with. 

Eris wouldn’t admit to it, but he’d patroned it more than the other little towns. It started once a year, just like everywhere else, but turned quarterly - monthly, even - after he visited your bakery. Small and tucked away, next to a butcher’s shop on one side and a bookstore on the other, your cafe was lined with tables and plush chairs, golden faelights and fresh flowers strewn across the space. 

He slipped through the door quickly, trying not to let out the heat from the small fire in the hearth beside the counter. “Good morning,” you called from the back kitchen, not visible from the doorway. “I’ll be with you in a minute!” Eris hummed in response, throwing a tiny ring of fire at the dimming flame. He noted the heat immediately, a welcome shiver down his spine at the feeling. He shook off the cold, shoving his hands in his pockets and pacing a few steps around the cafe. 

He had half a mind to bring you flowers this time - though, he’d been telling himself that the past three visits. His mother had clipped some hydrangeas from her garden, had them laid out along the long table in her drawing room. He should have just swiped a few, winnowed out before she would even notice, but he thought against it, didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or think he was trying something. 

Not that he wasn’t, necessarily - he should - gods, he wanted to. But the only thing you knew about him was that he was the High Lord’s son, he didn’t want to accept your advances because you felt like you had to. 

You popped around the corner, stopping in front of the counter wiping your hands on your apron. Your mouth opened and shut quickly, eyes wide at the sight of him. But he didn’t miss the blush that crawled up your cheeks, the small flustered smile when his fiery gaze met yours. “Oh - I didn’t - sorry to keep you waiting,” you said, shaking your head slightly. 

Eris smiled and relaxed his shoulders. “I wasn’t, don’t worry.” He’d counted down each minute - all forty-four thousand of them - until he saw you again. 

“You’re early,” you replied, pressing your hands against the counter, shuffling the random pile of papers before you.

He shrugged, eyes falling to the counter, watching how you moved the papers, each scrawled with a different recipe or note, and pushed them to the side. “Long day ahead - I wanted to make sure I got the strudel before you ran out.” 

The High Lord’s son typically came closer to closing, when just a few customers lingered around. Some ducked out quickly, afraid of the tall male’s presence; others stayed, tucked away in the dimly lit corners of the cafe, watching the handsome male from just over the rim of their coffee up. He usually ordered a tea - something chamomile or tisane - along with a pastry or two, and always tried the daily special. 

But you opened at six in the morning, and Eris strolled in just three minutes past. 

“Then what else can I get for you, Eris?” He almost melted on the spot - his name dripped like honey off your lips. You’d exchanged names and gotten past formalities a few months ago, when you’d started greeting him more like a friend than the High Lord’s son. 

He figured he’d never get anywhere with you if he kept lingering around the bakery before closing, when your neighbors sat watching his every move. 

“I’ll have a coffee, please.” You quirked a brow at the male, surprised at the change in order, though you supposed it was too early for a sleepy tea. 

You watched him ruffle around in his pocket for some change, the heavy gold coins shaking in his hand. He dipped his head to count the money, you watched the red locks of hair fall over his brow. You tipped your head back to look up at him, watch the fire’s shadows dance over his carved cheekbones, kissing his straight nose. 

You were able to see him clearly in the morning light; you could count the freckles across his cheeks, and oh how you longed to. He looked so different at night, when the sun was gone and the only light came from the red fire and amber faelights, as well as his glowing eyes. “And how do you take your coffee?” You watched his throat work, his eyes roam over your features. 

Eris pressed his tongue behind his teeth. “How you take yours.” 

“Milk and sugar?” You hummed, raising your brow, smiling at the male. While he savored the sweets you served him, you would have assumed he went for the more bitter taste. 

To be fair, he did. He just wanted to know how you liked yours, should he ever have the chance to make it for you himself. 

Preferentially in his bed. 

And nude. 

“Milk and sugar,” he replied with a small nod but a broad smile. 

Your eyes flitted between him and the mess on the counter in front of you - yet his red eyes never left yours, his gaze burning into you. You couldn’t help but blush, the heat emitted from his body calling to you, for you to throw yourself into him and feel his arms around you. The chill from the Winter Court was strong that morning, you’d wanted nothing more than to linger around the warm ovens all morning. But the cafe felt warmer, like it always did when he visited; you weren’t sure if it was his fire powers or just him. 

How much you wanted to touch him. 

“Coming right up.” You offered him a smile before trotting off to the kitchen, setting the grounds up over the set of mugs. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Your voice carried quietly from the back kitchen, just audible above the cracking fire. Eris’s eyes swiped around the cafe, over the small tables and iron chairs, never having seen the shop empty before. But he took a seat against the window, the seats shrouded with pillows with stacks of books adorning the tabletop. Your scent lingered across the space, bright and fruity with a hint of cinnamon. 

He tried not to stare at the counter across the shop, watch and wait for you to appear in the doorway to return. Eris tried to busy himself, glancing at each of the plants hanging from baskets, the flowers that he tried to remember, the sound of his mother reciting each name in the back of his mind. 

You piled the mugs and plates on a small wooden tray and made your way back to the tiny dining area, weaving through the tables to meet him in the corner. His thick brows raised in surprise as he noticed the amount of goodies on the tray, scrambling to stand and take it from you. But you shooed him off, setting everything down between you and ushering him to sit when you took the seat across from him. 

You never thought you’d meet a member of Autumn royalty, let alone one that fretted over you carrying a small try and who stood whenever you entered the room. 

“Thank you, (Y/N),” he said, quietly, almost unsure of how the word was supposed to sound - like it was foreign. But your pointed ears flexed, unable to miss the small sentiment, no matter how unusual it tasted on his tongue, he was trying. 

“You’re welcome, Eris,” you replied simply, handing him a mug, taking the matching one for yourself. There were a couple strudels on a plate, paired with a bowl of fruit, and some macaroons, a couple pumpkin tarts fresh from the oven on the side. 

He noticed how you pulled your strudel in half, how your shoulders shrugged slightly when you tasted it, the warm dough relaxing the cold chill that stiffened your spine. You couldn’t help but watch his hands work before you, pulling apart his pastry, just as you did, how he picked up the coffee cup loosely in those long fingers, pale knuckles and veins lining his big hands. You cradled your own mug in both hands, half needing the warmth from the side of the cup, the other half needing the grasp on reality, keeping you grounded - keeping your mind from wandering too far. 

His gaze washed over you, watching as you zoned out, staring into the space between you. “Were you here early this morning?” 

You blinked once, twice, trying to pull your eyes away from the male’s hands. “Yeah.” You huffed a laugh, sipping from the much needed coffee. “I start baking at four - got here at three though.” You eyed the pastry he’d picked up. “These were a bit more difficult than what I usually try for.”

“It’s excellent,” he said, taking a bite of the flaky pastry. “Very much worth the extra time, in my opinion.”

“I’m glad you came today.” Eris’s red eyes sparkled at your words, he felt the fire roar through his veins and crawl up his cheeks. 

Me too. He ached; wanted to find out everything about you, about your life, what you liked and what you didn’t, your family, what made you tick, what made you smile, how you tasted, how you’d look in his bed, on his lap. 

But before the male could even think of a response, the door swung open, followed by a gust of wind. Your eyes shot to the door immediately, assessing who came in, interrupting (what Eris believed to be, at least) a pleasant conversation. 

“Good morning, Mrs. Aldrich,” you greeted the old female, bundled up in her coat and wrapped in what looked like two scarves. Your eyes dropped to Eris once more as you pushed yourself from the table, sauntering off to the counter to serve her. 

But Eris decided to only wait a few moments longer, downing the rest of his coffee and finishing the treats on the table before stacking the bowls and plates. He ran his hands over the sides of his corduroy pants, unsure of whether to bring them to you in the kitchen, whether he should even go out of his way to say goodbye. He felt the Fae female staring at him, too afraid to say anything, but watching his every move. So he buttoned his jacket, preparing to leave before anyone else could come to the cafe to study him. 

He turned to the female, offering his a polite bow of his head in greeting, which she returned with a small curtsey. “Bye Eris,” you called, poking your head around the corner from the kitchen, arms working to tie a white apron around your waist. 

His eyes found yours, sparkling in the morning light that shines from the front windows. “Bye (Y/N), thanks again.” He offered you a smile before he ducked out the short front door. 

Eris felt Mrs. Aldrich’s eyes move back and forth between the two of you. 

_________________________

The next time he came by, it was still just as cold and just as early. He tried to take his time walking to the shop, but he couldn’t slow himself down - his hands itched, flexing at his sides, simmering with heat that poured out of him. The pocket watch in the front of his jacket told him he was a few minutes early, so he lingered along the cobblestones, kicking at the loose rocks on the sidewalk. 

The lights in the cafe were on, but the specials sign was missing and the Closed sign hung across the green door. He chewed on his bottom lip, shoving his hands inside his pockets and turning on his heel. He thought maybe he should just leave, not wait around like a creep, and solicit the peaceful town. 

“Eris?” 

The male’s head lifted as he turned over his shoulder, meeting your soft smile. He lifted a hand to run through his messy red hair, pushing it away from his eyes. “Hey (Y/N), good morning,” he stumbled over his words, too focused on his racing heart - beating almost as rapidly as the first day he saw you. 

You held the door open with your foot - the tip of your brown boot covered in flour, as the hem of your skirt was - and moved to pull the chalkboard through the door. The High Lord’s son pulled it from your hands, grabbing it easily with on and moving it as though it weighed nothing. He fixed it up on the sidewalk before turning to you with a smile. “Apricot sachertorte?”

You beamed at him, proud of your newest sweet treat, and propped your hands on your hips. You almost didn’t notice the Winter Court chill seeping through your clothes. You felt the heat he emitted, centuries of fire burning through him, drawing you to him. “You like chocolate, no?”

Eris ushered you inside, noting your missing coat when his eyes drew up and down your body. The dress you wore was thin, tight. Dusted with ingredients and a messy apron. He swallowed, forced some air into his lungs, and forced himself to not stare when you led him inside. “I have a certain weakness when it comes to chocolate.” And you. 

He rolled his eyes inwardly at himself - how his father would have killed him for even making a joke about having a terminal flaw. But he’d developed enough of a friendship that he’d actually made you laugh, and it was a sound he’d say nearly anything to hear it again. 

“Perfect then, take a seat and I’ll get some coffee for us.” Eris sighed in sweet relief, thanking you for saving him from having to ask you to sit with him again. 

You were quick to return with two mugs and two plates, one exceptionally large slice of the torte accompanied by a smaller one. He was quick to help you, settling into the table across from the fireplace. You’d hummed when you sat down, relaxing into the iron chair, and the male couldn’t help but wonder if it was the first time you’d sat down all morning. You drank your coffee like it came from the Mother herself, savoring the rich taste. “This is probably the fourth cup I’ve had this morning.” 

Eris wasn’t surprised. He was in the same boat himself, actually. He hadn’t been able to sleep all last night, not with the anticipation of seeing you. He’d forced his night owl of a brother to spar with him, tire himself out wielding the heavy steel sword. He’d fussed over battle plans and boring court papers. When that didn’t work, he’d even found himself in the kitchen, attempting what was intended to be a galette. When that didn’t work out, he gave up and laid in bed for a few more hours. He was tired, sure, but couldn’t fall asleep. 

“You ought to take a day off, sleep in,” he replied, taking a bite of the layered chocolate cake. Gods, if that was the last meal he’d eat, he’d be beyond satisfied. 

You shrugged, finger tracing the rim of your cup. “I could… but I just love it too much - even if I have to wake up early for it.” Eris nodded along. “Besides, what if you came by the shop and I was closed?”

He shifted in his chair, trying to settle the burn in his chest. “You’re right - ” he tried to play it off casually. “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself without your pastries.” Another job well done, he cursed himself. 

You smiled sweetly, propping your elbow up on the table and resting your head against your knuckles. “So tell me, Eris. What’s on today’s agenda? I can hardly believe you came all this way just for coffee and chocolate.” 

Oh how wrong you were. He’d go to the ends of Prythian just to spend one moment with you. 

“Taking care of some errands for my father,” he began, not interested in divulging too much. You understood, and simply nodded along, taking whatever he’d be willing to give out. “I have a meeting in the Winter Court.” 

“Ah, just a stop along the way, then.” He wasn’t sure if he heard faint disappointment laced in your voice, or if it was just what he’d been hoping to hear. 

“Well - yes, but…” It was one of those rare moments where Eris didn’t know what to say. “But I wish I could come more - I don’t want to bother you. I know a lot of your customers are uneasy when I stop by - ”

You cut him off, sitting straight in your chair. “You’re not - I love when you visit, Eris.” You fought against all your instincts to reach across the table and grab his hand. 

It was his turn to blush. Maybe he was overheating, what with all the layers and sitting in front of the fire. Or perhaps it was your bright eyes staring at him, burning into him, starting straight into the depths of his soul. “I wish I could stay longer, I’d like to - ”

But that godsdamned door opened again, a group of Fae walked in, conversation abruptly stopping when they noticed the fiery-haired male sitting at the table across from you. Eris stood in one swift motion, abandoning his fork and empty plate behind him. He noticed the young female that walked in, orange hair wild around her ears, starting straight at you, wiggling her eyebrows. 

When he tossed a look over his shoulder at you, he saw your pink cheeks, chin tucked close to your chest. “Your highness,” one of the males began, bowing to Eris.

His friend smacked him in the chest, grimacing at his friend’s actions. “Shut up.”

Another female interrupted all of them, smiling broadly at Eris. “Good morning, sir,” she said sweetly, dipping slightly in greeting. 

Eris had never felt more awkward in his life. He’d been trained in court politics, to lead armies, to host High Lord meetings on behalf of his father, to speak in front of hundreds of Fae. But never to talk with teenage Fae. 

“Good morning,” he replied as politely as he could, shifting his weight from foot to foot. But he recalled his courtier training, standing tall and holding his chin high. 

He got a small confidence boost though, as the other males tilted their heads back to look up at him, and cowered a few steps backward. And although Eris was normally cocky enough to have loved to inflict that kind of response on others, it wasn’t what he should be displaying in front of a female he was trying to impress. 

“I have to be getting on my way, (Y/N),” he finished, turning back to look at you. “Thanks for the coffee.” He smirked, watching as you glared at your friend - the one whose eyes kept flitting between you and the High Lord’s son. 

Your attention was drawn back to Eris and he threw a wink your way before he left the cafe.  

_________________________

He winnowed back just after the sun had set, when the chill from the mountains was visible in each breath he took. Eris appeared right in front of your shop door, where the lights were dimmed and the sign on the door read Closed. 

Fuck, he’d cursed himself, fifteen minutes late. He’d rushed back as fast as he could, after having spent the day in the Winter Court, useless meetings with Kallias and his staff. Eris had nearly run out of the meeting room, winnowing before he’d even left the table and made it close to the door. 

But you’d spotted him, the brown wool coat and dark red hair from the window. You almost skipped to the door, something between a hop and a half-jog, making your way to the door before he’d off and disappeared again. “Eris, wait!” You’d called, unlocking the door and poking your head through. 

He smiled when he turned around, meeting you in the doorway. You held a broom in your hand, obviously close to leaving for the evening. No matter how tired you were, there was no doubt in his mind that you’d had a busy day, you still greeted him with a cheery smile. 

“I just wanted to,” he began, digging his hand through his pocket and pulling out a handful of gold coins. “For this morning.” 

You shook your head, but took his wrist in your hand, pulling him through the door. Your fingers sparked when you felt his warm skin against yours. “You visiting is quite enough - ”

Eris groaned, wishing you’d held onto him for just a little bit longer. “I don’t need special treatment.”

You rolled your eyes. “I can’t be nice to you anymore, Eris?”

He smiled, sharp teeth glinting in the dim faelight. “Are you being nice to me or being nice to my family?” 

He watched you tut, giving him an indiscreet up and down. It almost made him nervous. “Just you.” And Eris smiled at that, his own selfishness getting the best of him, but glad you had invited him in. “I like when you visit. You don’t do it enough.” 

You’d set the broom against the table, hands clasped in front of you trying your damnedest not to look like a giddy child in a candy shop. Eris glowed, watching your movements, daring to see how much else you’d reveal to him. 

Eris was too busy staring at you, committing every feature of yours to memory, to respond. “How about some tea?” You asked, already making your way to the kitchen. 

“Please,” he nearly sighed, and no matter how happy and excited he was to be back at your bakery, he was still beat from a day of Winter Court bullshit. 

You disappeared only momentarily, returning just after you’d set the kettle over the stovetop, with two mugs in hand. You set them on the table by the window, the seats both cushioned with freshly fluffed pillows. Eris joined you, eyeing the loose tea leaves at the bottom of the cups, a mixture of chamomile flowers, linden leaves, and peppermint. 

He smiled gratefully, seeing your body relax once you’d slid into the chair across from him. “You like it here?” Eris couldn’t help but ask. You seemed to work yourself into exhaustion, rising before the sun, staying past dusk, holed away in the quaint cafe. It was a small town, too far from the other Autumn villages to easily visit - though, he supposed there would be plenty of adventure in the woods beyond and the mountains between Winter. That ought to be dangerous, especially given the fact that if Beron found out about his subjects crossing the border, he’d outright banish or kill them. 

You smiled back at the High Lord’s son, him looking equally as tired as you must have. Light purple lined the tops of his cheekbones, starkly contrasting his otherwise luminous pale skin. His brows were taught, pulled together as if really contemplating your answer - or perhaps overthinking his question. He’d forgotten his coat on the back of his chair, a dark blazer underneath. His eyes glowed, his red irises burning brighter as the light from the windows faded.

“I do,” you hummed, content with your little date. 

But the screeching of the kettle interrupted you, and right as you placed your hands on the table to push yourself up, Eris stopped you. “Let me, please.” Before you could even respond, he was already on his feet, rushing off into the back kitchen to pull the kettle off.

He returned with the kettle in one hand and a bottle of honey in the other. He poured your cup first and then his, setting the hot water to the side. Surely, should you let him stay long enough, it would be easy enough for him to reheat later. 

“You were saying?” He continued, eyes locked on the mug before him, dropping in a swirl of honey to his tea. 

You bit your lip, pushing your mug closer to him. His eyes flitted up to you once before he repeated the action. “I like it here. It’s small - I know all of my customers by now. All of their names, their orders, it’s like a little family.” 

Eris nodded along, leaning back in his chair. “No problems with the Winter Court?” 

You rolled your eyes. I have more problems with the current court, if we were being honest. “It’s cold,” you replied. “It’s quiet. But far away enough that we aren’t…” You bit your tongue. “Not that there’s anything wrong with - ”

“You don’t have to lie to me,” Eris replied, not shocked with your response. “I understand.”

Just like any other Fae on the continent, he reminded himself: scared of his father. He wasn’t surprised, this would be the perfect town to escape Beron’s tight holds. It wasn’t close enough that he kept it under his nose, monitoring the town and the villagers. It wasn’t particularly useful to him - no major crops or orchards, maybe lumber from the redwoods, but there were far closer regions he could busy himself with. 

But he saw how quickly your brows raised and cheeks turned red at your comment. It was almost as if you’d forgotten he was the High Lord’s son up until that moment. 

Eris was ashamed to carry the Vanserra name. 

He finished off his tea, suddenly uncomfortable with keeping you so late. Maybe the reason you were so nice to him was because of who his father was. You were hosting him out of formality, not friendship or desire - you were probably afraid he’d go running back to the Forest House with your name at the top of his list. 

You reached a hand out to him, watching his lips turn into a frown and his brows narrow as he lost himself in thought. “That’s not what I meant.” 

“If there is anyone who gets it, (Y/N), believe me - I do.” He took a long sip from the mug in his hand, set it down silently, and pushed himself from the seat. His hands fumbled over his coat, swinging it over his shoulders and fastening it shut. “I don’t want to keep you any longer - I’ve intruded quite enough.” He turned to the door, to avoid watching you awkwardly scramble to your feet. The sky was dark, the only light along the street was the glow from the faelights in the windows of the houses along the way. He turned back on his heel to face you, staring up at him, bewildered. “Can I at least walk you home?”

You pressed your lips together, clasping your hands in front of you. “I live upstairs, actually.”

“Ah.” It was all that came from him, which left the male cursing himself once more. Fucking idiot. “Well thank you again, (Y/N).” Back to formalities, back to square one. 

You nodded once more, watching as he turned to the door. As he reached for the handle, you stopped him, grabbing his other hand. His skin was burning hot and sent sparks into you. “You’re welcome anytime here, Eris.” You waited until he turned around, fully acknowledging your words. “And not just because of who your father is.” 

Eris nodded, albeit a bit numbly, as you sent his mind reeling the moment he felt your fingers grasp his. Should I do it?

He wanted to kiss you so badly. So badly that his fingers itched to grab you and pull you against him. You batted your eyelashes at him, all innocent as if you had no idea what you were doing. Maybe you weren’t doing anything - no signals, no invitation to kiss you, love you, fuck you. 

It was all in his head, it had to be. 

He couldn’t compromise your innocence, not when he’d already been seen alone in the cafe with you twice in one day. He could only imagine what the other Fae were thinking, how he’d either besmirched your reputation or created a scandal in the small town. 

“Then I’ll be sure to return more often.” With that, he gave your fingers a squeeze and turned - forcing every fiber of his being not to take you with him. 

_________________________

Eris couldn’t sleep again. Gods, he felt ill. 

He was clammy all over - absolutely disgusting. He’d forced himself from bed and into the bath, letting the cold water wash over him and take away whatever it was he was feeling. His heart was racing out of his chest, his breathing was jagged - it was unlike any other fever he’d had. 

And then he felt it, laying in the cold water of the porcelain tub. It felt like a rubber band snapped against his ribcage. It winded him, had him lurching forward and clutching his chest. He figured the copper taste in his mouth was a figment of his imagination, being no stranger to the taste of blood. Maybe he bit his tongue when he felt the snap, it had his heart lurching upwards into his scarred throat. 

Eris’s fingers gripped the edge of the cold bathtub - he felt the water turning hotter by the second. He couldn’t control the heat that emitted from his body, the simmering flames smothered in his palms. 

That was it.

That was it. 

He wasn’t dying - not if you could call being utterly grossly in love dying. 

His heart hammered in his chest and the fire roared through his veins. It felt like he was suffocating, sure, but it felt good. His hands were shaking, and he knew the only cure would be to have you in them. You were the one who could teach him how to breathe again.

He huffed a long shaky breath, leaning back in the tub until his back touched the now warm ceramic. Curls of steam began to dance on the surface of the water that seemed to be rippling in time with his heartbeat. 

Eris shut his eyes, trying his damndest to clear his head, to calm the fuck down. But all he saw was you, the flour that dusted your cheek, the apron wrapped so tight around your waist he wished it were his hands. He thought of your cheeks, rosy and red from the ovens, your plump lips sipping on tea, how sweet you looked drinking your milky coffee. Then he remembered the shape of your brow, how it quirked downwards when you’d mentioned his father, how you gnawed on that bottom lip of yours when he’d been in such a rush to leave. 

But it didn’t matter what you thought of his father, of the whole damned Autumn Court itself. He’d get on his knees before you to beg, plead for you to understand - it’s not his fault, it’s not him. 

So that’s what he set off to do. 

He pushed himself from the near boiling water, haphazardly drying himself off as he skitted to the wardrobe. He flung it open, opting for a casual pair of brown trousers and a white linen shirt. He ought to be prepared to do a lot of begging, spending the whole morning on his knees begging for you to accept him as a mate, begging for a taste. 

_________________________

It was only seven hours since you’d seen Eris, the whole time you’d spent thinking of him and replaying your latest conversation. It was very much the same after each time you’d seen him, spending the evening tossing and turning, picturing his red hair and soft smile, the freckles over his cheeks and that little scar under his eye. You imagined what it would be like to hold him in your arms, laying on top of you, suffocating you in the best way; you pictured what it’d be like for him to hold you, laying behind you, arms wrapped fully around you, holding you against his chest. 

But you laid in bed alone, staring at the clock until the golden hands ticked to three o’clock. 

You pushed the covers from yourself, shivering at the cold that swept through your bones. You’d gotten better at fighting that fight, the urge to stay in bed and revel in your warmth instead of forcing yourself downstairs at such an early hour. The warm ovens called to you, but you’d have to overcome the chill of the nearly Winter air and the cold hardwood floor. 

You wondered if it would be warmer with Eris there. As if the male just naturally heated every room he walked into - 

No. 

You shook your head, trying to rid the thoughts of the Autumn heir from your mind. You’d only distract yourself. You knew the visit yesterday would have to last you for the rest of the month. You could only begin to count down the days until you anticipated his return. 

So instead, you shuffled down the stairs, pulling open your recipe book and setting out a few bowls. You hadn’t decided the day before what you were making yet - not like you usually did. Your mind had been much too occupied. You settled on figuring it out later, just starting with something simple and figuring out a custard later. With flour dusting the counter, you rolled out some dough, working it until it was so thin that it was almost transparent. A simple croissant surely would do, you’d thought. Maybe you could use up some of the pumpkin or raspberries…

You’d gone rifling around for inspiration when you felt a shiver down your spine. It wasn’t the cold of the early morning, nor the chill from the produce cooler. No - it was the hard knock on the door, rattling the closed sign against the wooden frame. 

You bit your lip, debating wiping out all the Faelights - that no doubt alerted whoever was outside that you were in. But you had no choice, as the knock sounded again, softer this time, but still enough to prove your visitor’s determination to talk to you. 

Not once in your centuries of owning the cafe had you had a morning visitor. Nobody had ever shown up before opening, especially not at three in the godsdamned morning.

All you could do was grab your stone rolling pin from the counter, holding it between your two shaky hands as you trotted quietly to the door. But as you stepped around the counter and wove through the tables, you’d spotten a tuft of red hair through the window. 

Red hair, pale skin, long coat, the smell of firewood and burnt sage. 

Your heart stuttered, pure shock replaced with utter bewilderment. Your throat tightened, nervous as to what he may be visiting for - what you may have said that offended him. Then you sighed, dropping your head to stare at the thick cotton dress you wore, the wool sock on your feet. Fuck, you huffed, blowing a piece of hair out of your face. The Mother could not have prepared you less. 

All you could do was pull the door open, holding the rolling pin behind your back. 

And when the door swung open, the cold coming in immediately, Eris’s eyes were blown wide. The red around his dilated pupils glowing against the dark of night. Gods you were so fucking beautiful. His gaze roamed over your messy hair, the loose dress that hung over your shoulders, the cozy looking socks on your feet. 

“Hey,” he said, quieter than intended. He cleared his throat, stepping closer, arms tightly pressed behind his back. “Sorry to - interrupt.” He couldn’t stop - his eyes were roaming, frantically moving between yours, trying not to wander over your body, his mind was reeling, heart was pounding out of his chest. His cheeks were flushed, breathing ragged - the bond was fucking with him. Absolutely fucking with him - he wasn’t even sure if he’d be able to stand in front of you much longer without having to get his hands on you. “I regretted leaving so abruptly last night. I stayed late and should have at least helped you clean up.”

You smiled. He was so serious. Those red eyebrows were raised, mouth parted, almost frowning at the corners - so distraught. “Don’t make a fuss about it - I just like your company.” I miss when you’re not here. I miss your visits. 

I missed you. 

The corner of his mouth turned up, gaze softening at your apparent forgiveness. He took a step closer, closing the distance between you. He moved his arm from behind his back, holding up a bundle of blue-ish hydrangeas - the flowers he hadn’t stopped thinking about bringing you. 

It wasn’t inconspicuous, like he hoped it would be. His mother caught on immediately, asking him why he kept inquiring about her flowers, what she’d pulled from the garden. Who are you bringing them for? He’d rolled his eyes at her, scoffing. I’m not bringing them to anyone, mother. I can’t show interest in the garden? So he’d been deterred from bringing them. He didn’t want to draw attention to it - to you - especially not from his father or courtiers. 

Until that night - until he had the perfect opportunity, when everyone was asleep, to snatch them from the table and winnow straight to you.

Your eyes fell to the bunch of flowers, jaw dropped, unable to speak. What did you say? What does one say to the High Lord’s son who brings you flowers. He brought you flowers. You simply couldn’t find the words. But when you looked back up at him, having to tilt your head upwards to meet his gaze, he looked so scared - unsure if you’d accept them, as if he’d made some horrible mistake. 

And you couldn’t help but laugh, having to bite your lip to stop yourself. You didn’t take the flowers, you took his hand, that warm, blazing hot hand, and pulled him inside. “Well, no point in letting all the heat out.” And as if on cure, he lit up, warmth erupting from him, his chest radiating heat into your hand and arm. “Thank you, Eris, I… don’t even know what to say.” You pulled your fingers away from his, taking the bunch of flowers in your free hand.

But you had to place the rolling pin down, having to set it on the table closest to the door. His brows rose. “Preparing for battle, I see.” He surveyed the white stone, nodding his head in approval when he heard the clang of the marble against the iron table. 

You huffed a breathy laugh, ushering him inside and placing them in one of the empty vases from the bookshelf in the corner. You’d set it up on the counter, where everyone would be able to see the beautiful flowers Eris had brought for you. “I was hoping,” he began from behind you, hands shoved into his pants pockets, boot kicking at the thick grout between the stones on the floor. “You might let me help you this morning.”

You turned on your heel, spinning around so fast that you’d nearly startled the normally steadfast male. “You want to help me?”

He nodded. “I’m not very useful - I wouldn’t say I’m the best baker.” He held his hands up in surrender. “I used to help my mother bake apple pie but - ” he finished with a shrug, laughing through his own awkwardness. 

You couldn’t stop your smile. “Of course you can, Eris.” 

And truth be told, the male wasn’t bad. He’d kneaded the dough, he’d prepared the raspberry filling, and even mixed some fresh whipped cream. He’d followed all your instructions and even prepared you a cup of tea in the meantime, while you worked on your own dough at the opposite side of the counter. 

You’d spent far too long watching his hands knead the soft pastry, his long fingers and large knuckles flexing as he pushed the dough around. He’d rolled up the sleeves of his linen shirt, forearms working with each move. You couldn’t help but notice the few missed buttons at the top of his shirt, pale collar bones peeking out. You’d made out some ridges over his skin, down his neck and tucked away underneath the fabric of his shirt. You couldn’t get a good look at it, not with the dimmed lights and loose shirt. 

He made light conversation, asking about the town, who your favorite patrons were. You’d asked him similar questions, how he likes fencing and polo, he’d indulged you in some childhood stories of wrestling his brothers in the Autumn rain - how they’d tracked mud through the entirety of the Forest House. When it came to his parents, though, the topic was off limits, as he’d scoffed and asked about your parents instead. 

By then, the hours had easily slipped past you - the pastries cooling after their bout in the ovens. Eris leaned against the counter, watching as you sliced the baked pumpkin you held in front of you, scooping the soft contents into a bowl to begin your filling mixture. 

His eyes watched your hands work, unable to meet your eyes, afraid of your response. “I have a confession.” 

You looked up only momentarily, not a stutter in the whisk as you continued mixing. “Confess away,” you replied softly, heart suddenly lurching into your chest. 

He swallowed thickly, but raised his gaze to your face - your focused look - as you stared back down at the bowl. “I - last night after I left - there was a…” He trailed off, sucking in a deep breath. “I felt the…” Eris’s throat was closing. His heart was beating so fast, so hard, that he thought it would break all of his ribs. “I believe we’re mates, (Y/N).”

Your breath caught in your throat, suddenly all air evaded you and your heart seemed to stop. Mates? Mates? Gods, you knew you liked Eris - who wouldn’t? The male was beautiful and tall and kind and -

You swallowed hard. To hide your shaking hands, you continued working on the pastries. You kept you eyes sole trained on the table in front of you, fearful that if you looked up, if you saw those red eyes before you, that you’d surely crumble away in a fit of tears, laughter - you weren’t quite sure.

You were elated.

So fucking elated, in fact, that you didn’t know what to do.

But you didn’t respond. You didn’t make a move - not an eyebrow raise, not a quirk of your lips, nothing. “I know we don’t really know each other - I’ve wanted to stay longer, believe me.” The male rambled on, filling the silence you’d offered. “I just felt this thing last night after I left and it’s been eating me away since and I already knew that I cared for you so much and you’re so - fuck, so godsdamned beautiful but I - ”

You straightened, pulling your shoulders back and dropping the whisk. “It’s okay, Eris.”

His eyes widened. “It’s okay?” What the fuck did that mean?

You’d turned to grab a pastry off the rack - the one you’d kneaded, the one that turned out so much flakier and taller than his. “It’s okay.” You smiled, though, but didn’t falter in your movements, continuing to assemble what looked like a dessert sandwich. 

He stared incredulously at you. “Did you… hear what I said?” 

And so you laughed, a light giggle that had Eris reeling. You pushed over the pumpkin Mille-Feuille, nodding at him as he stared at it like it was otherworldly. “You told me one time you liked the pumpkin turnovers because it was your favorite Autumn Court fruit.”

The male was bug-eyed. “This is for me?”

You nodded.

“Just for me?”

Again, with a smile, you nodded. 

Eris looked between you and the fluffy pastry. “For me?” He raised a hand and gestured between the two of you. 

“Yes, Eris. I made you a pumpkin pastry. For you.” His cheeks tinged pink, but let out a breathy sigh of relief. You added for clarification: “Not on the menu.”

Gods, yes. It was the only thought running through his mind. 

“And even in all that rambling, you haven’t asked me to be your mate,” you continued, voice raised an octave, teasing the poor nervous male. He opened his mouth to interrupt - to ask - but you cut him off. “I would love to be, Eris Vanserra.”

And while his heart rate didn’t slow down, he calmed, shoulders relaxed and eyes shut in relaxation. His hands fell to the treat before him, staring at the perfect little pastry. He could finally breathe again - as if in the past three minutes he’d been stilled, lungs, hands, and mind unable to work properly. 

But Eris dug in anyway, picking up the soft treat like it was the most delicate thing in the world. He took a big bite, holding his free hand underneath, catching all the flakes that broke off, saving every bite. He chewed slowly, licking his lips to savor the pumpkin flavor and the light pastry. His eyes fell to yours, wide and wanting, watching you like a hawk.

You didn’t dare move, frozen in place as the male ate. 

As the bond solidified.

As he became your mate.

By the time he’d finished, his breathing was ragged and he had to press his hands against the counter to keep his balance. You watched his chest rise and fall, the linen shirt loose on his frame but hugged his broad shoulders. Those red eyes burned into yours, as though waiting for you to make the first move. 

Or waiting for your permission. 

So you took a step backward, pushing yourself from where you’d been nearly clinging onto the counter, where it was holding you upright. And as soon as you’d freed yourself from the confines of the countertop, he’d pounced. Eris felt like leaping across the counter and pulling you into his arms. Instead, which might have cost his last ounce of decency, he’d taken the few long strides towards you and grabbed you. 

To be fair, he was as tender as he could have been, what with his heart beating up into his throat and his lungs burning, winding his arms around your back, fingers gripping the cotton that hung loose on your frame. His head dipped, immediately catching your lips with his. You were quick to follow his lead, throwing your arms around his neck and rising on your tiptoes to meet him. 

Gods, he was warm - it was all that you could think of. His heat spread into you, the physical heat, but also those internal flames, the warmth that formed in the center of your chest as the bond built itself between the two of you. Sparks sizzled between you, and you were sure you felt them when your lips met in a fiery kiss. 

Your fingers threaded through your hair as his hands roamed your back. He tasted like cinnamon, like the pumpkin from your mating food, the burnt sage that mirrored in his scent, that filled the cafe as soon as he walked through the door. 

“I don’t know anything about you,” you breathed, a soft sigh against his lips as his mouth skimmed your bottom lip, over your chin, down across your jaw. 

He released something half crossed between a moan and a sigh. “We have time to talk about me,” he whispered against your ear, biting at your soft flesh. “Later.” His lips ran over your cheek again, and he left a sloppy kiss on your lips. “Much, much later.” 

You hummed in response, pressing yourself to his front again, chest, stomachs, legs - all of it. Eris groaned, sinking down on his knees, stopping when he was eye level with you. His red irises burned with an eternal flame, burned into you with the promise of forever. He wrapped his arms fully around your waist, his elbows at your ribs and knees on either side of your legs. He tilted his head forward, only until your lips met, noses brushing against each other. 

Your lips parted on instinct alone, the breath pulled from your lungs when his lips met yours - so soft, barely meeting at all. You could have cried, screamed, grabbed his hair and pulled him further against you. But all he gave you was a touch, so close your eyelashes nearly tangled. His mouth brushed yours again and you snapped - arms linked around him still, pulling him against you. “Upstairs?” You asked, fully against his mouth, the word muffled between your lips and heavy breaths. 

He shook his head, still not breaking the kiss. His hands ran down the small of your back and over your ass, cupping the back of your thighs and pulling you upwards, setting you on the counter in front of him. Eris let his fingers find the hem of your nightgown, trailing over the skin of your bare flesh. You were burning hot, like you ran a fever at his touch. In the cold air, his touch sent shivers down your spine. 

“I can’t wait, (Y/N).” His lips barely left yours. “I have to have you now.”

“Then get on with it,” you mewled, taking his hands in yours and dragging them up your thighs, under the gown. “I’ve been waiting far too long for this, Eris.” 

You leveled his gaze - it struck quite the nerve with him, he never thought he’d succumb to an ethereal being like you, especially not to one he got to call his mate. 

As his hands roamed under your gown, your own explored his chest, running over the lean muscle and pulling at the buttons. You’d pulled them apart one by one, eyes shut and mouth being devoured by Eris. He seemed to pay no mind, working his way to your hips, squeezing at your thighs. You opened the shirt and pushed it off his shoulders, breaking away from him momentarily. 

And Eris felt it, felt it through the fresh bond between you. He felt your heart stutter, felt the shock that flooded your system. 

His heart stopped, lungs held his air hostage. 

And then you’d felt it - the utter disgust and shame that rang through him.

So you raised your hands, holding his jaw in your palms, brushing your thumb over his cheekbone - over the other faint scar that laced his skin. You weren’t sure what to say - if you should say anything at all. But he’d already noticed your surprise. That’s all it was - surprise, not in the hardened male before you, but at that any one male could endure that much pure trauma. You were not disgusted with your mate, not horrified at the scaring.

You we’re just… “What happened to you, my love?”

And he blinked a few times, turning his head in your hands and raising his own hands, holding your wrists in his palms. His throat worked, his mind rolling over the proper response. You moved your hands, dropping them down his cheeks, fingertips grazing the marred skin on his neck, the slashes over his collarbones and down the puckered skin of his chest. His hands remained on yours the whole time, feeling you work your way down his body. 

My love. It made the fire inside of him burn brighter. He imagined you’d felt it too, felt the initial draw toward him like he did to you - even before you were mates. 

“That’s a story for another time.” He whispered, gazing down at you from under his eyelashes. “If you’ll still have me.”

You were almost shocked to hear that - to hear him question your desire to be with him just based on his scars. You wouldn’t expect such doubt from him. So all you could do was sit up a little taller, pull you down to your lips and offer him the most reassuring kiss of his life. 

He made quick work of your dress, unbuttoning the small row of buttons behind your back. You shimmied the dress from under you, where you’d been sitting on the soft fabric, and let Eris bunch it up and drag it up over your sides and arms. He slid it off quickly, discarding it in a pile along with his shirt. His eyes and hands roamed over you, exploring the curves and ridges of your body. 

Your cheeks reddened, so exposed before the male you’d barely known, but longed for him to touch you. You’d thought of this moment many times, during those sleepless nights, some of which ended up leaving you with your hand between your legs. 

Eris felt your blush through the bond, he felt your outright attraction, the desperation you had. And he knew he mirrored it through the bond, too. It’s what made you pull him back into you, until he stepped right up against the counter and the front of those trousers were pressed against your undergarment. He ground against you, unable to hold in the urge as the ferocity flooded his veins, the bond finally taking hold of him now that he had you laid out in front of him. 

You moaned at the feeling, his hardened cock a tent in his pants, slotting perfectly between your lips. He moved up and down, gliding against the warm heat from your pussy, the smooth fabrics only aiding in his desperation - your too. Gods, you could have come from that alone should he only have kept going. 

But the male wasn’t having it. He kicked off his boots and unbuttoned his pants, shucking both along your kitchen floor, discarded for what he hoped would be the next few days. 

Eris’s cock bounced up against his stomach as he neared you, the precum gathered on the tip mixing into the fine pale hairs that trickled down his bellybutton to the base of his cock. Eris wouldn’t even touch himself, deciding it would be fucking ethereal, should you reach out and grab him. 

And, luckily, you did, holding your hand out for him to step back into position. Your hand wrapped around his dick, fully hard and standing proud. You’d surely need two hands to work him properly, perhaps even your mouth, too. His skin was warm in your palm, hot and ready to combust as you ran your hand up and down, offering him a small squeeze as you neared the base, your thumb rubbing the tip when it slid up.

You couldn’t hold out much longer, either. You’d pressed him up right against your pussy as he just did, leaning back on your other elbow so you could further spread your hips. You held his cock with your other hand still, pressing it into your pussy. Eris began to rock, back and forth, back and forth, wincing at how wet your pussy sounded. His cock glided along your cunt effortlessly.

He braced a hand on the counter, on either side of you, and held his hips back. He let you continue to rub his dick as he leaned in close for a chaste kiss. He rubbed his nose against your ear, hot air stirring around you. “Are you going to let me fuck you, my love?” 

You moaned - you’d heard many tales of the trickster male’s wicked tongue, but hadn’t been granted the opportunity to hear him use it around you. You were very much looking forward to exploring that side of him. 

Gone was the chamomile drinking, flower giving High Lord’s son. This was Eris, hot and heady and ready.

His one hand moved over to hold yours, moving your fingers to grab his cock and angle it into you. You gasped as the head nudged your folds, pushing only the tiniest bit in. You clenched around nothing, as he rocked back and forth, the head moving against your entrance but not in. “Will you let me mate you? Fill you up? Claim you?”

“Gods, yes,” you moaned, trying to move off the counter even closer to him, to inch his dick farther into you. “Please, Eris. My mate - ” 

You were cut off with a harsh gasp, Eris sunk halfway in as you rambled on. “Oh my gods - please.” 

He moved slowly, warming you up to his length. “Still so much more for you,” he murmured, holding your hand against your lower stomach. He pressed it softly into you, around your soft flesh, so you could feel him enter in you as he pushed his cock all the way, bottoming out.

He held there for a moment, reveling in how you squeezed your walls around him. It was unlike anything he felt before. The roaring in his chest from the bond fed straight into his cock - willing him to drive into you over and over and over. 

But as much as he wanted to hold himself back, he found himself moving faster and faster, hitting farther inside of you with each stroke. Your moans spurred him on - your gasps, your prayers to the Mother - to him. 

Your hands fell around you, gripping anything you could find, looking to anchor yourself on something, anything. 

“You feel so good, (Y/N).” He huffed, breathing becoming ragged as he fucked into you. “I can’t believe I’ve waited this long for you.”

His cock stretched you, the familiar coil in the bottom of your stomach already causing you to clench around him. “You have me, Eris, fuck.” He grabbed your hips, holding you still, driving into you harder. “Please, more, Eris.” 

So he rutted into you, Eris hooked his knee onto the counter, pushing himself up, joining you on the floury surface. Your arms splayed out, knocking over bowls and eggs, ingredients falling to the floor and clinging to your sweaty skin. He hooked his knees around either side of your hips, positioning himself directly above you, driving straight down into your wet pussy. 

He groaned - an estranged deep noise coming from the male’s throat. His one hand was positioned beside your head, holding himself above you - though, you wouldn’t care if that male suffocated you, if he laid all the weight he’d been holding all his life onto you - the other came to cradle your cheek, holding your jaw with his thumb brushed against your chin. Your breathing mixed with Eris’s, your shared air, heat, love. You sighed, feeling his cock drive deep into you, hit the deep spot inside of you - he stretched you, seeped into you, molded into you. 

He fucked you so hard that you felt yourself moving, inching closer to the edge of the counter. Your hair fell first, starting to fall over your shoulders and off the counter. But Eris held your head, cradled you as you neared the edge, feeling your stomach coil at the rhythmic pounding in your pussy. 

Eris didn’t stop until you came, until your fingernails dug into his biceps and you screamed his name. He followed behind you quickly, his hips snapping into yours until he painted you white, with his cum that marked the bond. He claimed you as his, and silently thanked the Mother for her blessing. 

His bright eyes washed over you, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure, lips swollen and bruised from his kisses, crying out for him. He watched how our brows knitted together, your skin was flushed with a pink blush. He committed everything to memory, the heave of your chest, the sweat across your collarbone, your throat working to gasp air. 

He pulled out of you, dastardly watching the mix of both of your cum slide out of your pussy. He longed to feel it, to drag his finger up your sweet cunt, to lick it up. He knelt above you, pushing himself off the counter and grabbing your hips, pulling you centered on the tabletop. You huffed a sigh, arms limp and covered in flour at your sides. 

His warm fingers caressed your hips, your thighs, the muscles burning from being spread so wide. You dragged a hand over his arm, up his shoulder until you met the back of his neck. Your fingers brushed through the back of his red curls. “We made quite the mess.” You were tired, sounded so breathless - it nearly made Eris’s knees wobble. 

He laughed, though, a hearty chuckle, quite proud of his creation. He surveyed the messy kitchen, in no shape to bake, to serve anything made from or around the mess that had become evidence of your mating bond. But after pressing a quick kiss to your forehead, the male was off, walked those long legs to the counter and scribbled down a note on a piece of scrap paper beside your recipe book. 

Even his handwriting was beautiful. “Closed until further notice.” 

He rushed back to you, scooping you in his arms, holding you tightly against him, even as you broke out into a fit of giggles.

“Now you can show me this upstairs I’ve heard so much about.” And you knew right then that you’d be riding the high of your mating frenzy until Eris had learned every inch of you.

[stormhearty]

Paring: former Azriel x Reader

Triggers: mentions of cheating, mentions of death, cursing, a lot of bold and italicize

Word Count: 3K+

Summary: The High Lords called a meeting to discuss the Death-God’s resurrection. However, with the death of their Seer, tensions run high between Day and Night Court, Helion outraged by the loss of your life. Truths are revealed and lies are exposed. And what happens when the High Lords realize that they have all been too late?

Note: I thank you all for all the love you have given to my one shot!! I had never thought it would have been so well received by fans and writers! I am very amused by everyone's reactions and thoughts on the one shot — everyone is wanting blood and redemption for our poor reader. And she will! This chapter is a segway/filler chapter — but still important. It's still angsty, don't worry. This one shot will probably become a 3 part series. I know in that voting poll I had done asked if you guys wanted a 5k chapter, rather than a 2- 2k chapters, but I wanted to leave you guys with one more chapter to look forward to! Please look forward to it!

Part One | Part Three | Epilogue

<Pushed to the Edge> Masterlist

“You had abandoned my emissary, disregarded her sight and had her take her own life in your Court… And for what? Your mate’s sister’s powers?!” Helion was fuming, amber eyes staring the High Lord of Night down, “And that her mate — - “a growl escaped his lips, as he glanced at the Spymaster next to Rhysand, “Had cheated on her for said sister?!”

The High Lord of Day’s voice echoed throughout the throne room, shaking its very walls at the allegation of what had happen within the wards of the Night Court. Helion’s fingers gripped the edge of the large round table, his claws causing the wood to splint underneath his fingertips.

“And now… you are telling me that her body disappeared?” his voice deathly low, “That your Spymaster’s shadows had whisked her body away to — God-knows-where… That, that child, never had never had a proper burial?!”

Rhysand couldn’t utter a single word against the claims placed against him and his Court — he couldn’t when everything that Helion had roared was true.

“… Show me…” Helion hissed, focusing at his old friend, “Show us what had happened that day…”

Rhysand gulped, staring at Helion before glancing around the table towards the High Lords of Pyrthian. All of them staring him down before all felt the claws of Rhysand's power creeping in their minds, images of that day of your death playing in their minds — all of them watching the confrontation between the Inner Circle and you — on how you were cornered and betrayed, leading up to your very death.

He hated it. Rhysand not only relived that that multiple times during his dreams — where he had failed you. He now had to relieve it while he was awake. Hearing your pleads and cries for him to listen to your visions, and seeing your body dying on that marble floor — to watch it be taken away by tendrils of shadow.

Once the memory came to pass, sobs echoed throughout the room. Helion being the loudest as he ran a hand down his face, his form shaking in his seat. Rhysand glanced towards his Inner Circle, watching his family relive that moment as well; eyes focusing on Azriel, who gripped the arms of his chair as his face wrinkled in anguish at the memory.

It had been a month ever since your death, a month since the sliver of shadows that once served the Spymaster had taken your body away — unknown to even Azriel on where they had brought your body to. And a month ever since more and more whispers of Koschei’s resurrection echoed throughout the Courts. The Death-God’s power vibrating throughout all of Pyrthian — it was difficult to not miss.

The High Lords gathered in Day Court to strategize on the impending danger of the Death-God. However, it was no secret on what had happened in the wards of Night Court. The loss of your light present throughout all of Pyrthian — every High Lord felt it.

Especially Helion.

He wanted nothing more to hurt and maim every member of the Inner Circle; but that wasn’t the purpose of this meeting — though he wanted it to be.

Helion reigned in his emotions, trying to calm the rage that boiled in his blood. Trying to clam the sadness he felt for the loss of you. He straightened up in his chair, letting out a shaky breath, looking back at the Night Court High Lord.

“… I regret that I ever had sent (Y/N) to your Court, Rhysand,” his tone small and disappointed, “Her powers were wasted on you and your Court. A Seer taking their life, being betrayed by the people she called her family,” His head shaking, a laugh, one so loud and so sarcastic escaping his chest that it echoed in throne room, startling the other High Lords, making Rhysand flinch in his seat. “What a damn found family you made. Betraying one’s mate, betraying a person who had served you for five-hundred fucking years over a female who barely has control over her own powers.”

Amber eyes darted to Elain, as he watched her flinch back, hiding behind the eldest Archeron sister, “What prophecy have you seen now?” the sarcasm very evident in his tone, “Have you seen what (Y/N) has seen? Have you seen the resurrection of Kosechi, as well? Your powers are nothing compared to (Y/N)’s.”

“How dare you talk to someone in my Court like — -” Rhysand started.

“You have no right to challenge me in my own Court, Rhysand!” Helion bellowed, hands slamming on the table, standing up as he glared at his once-called friend, “Do you realize what you have done?! Do you realize why there hasn’t been a Seer in millennials? Why (Y/N) has been the only recorded Seer in the history of Pyrthian? Because Seers have been hunted — by Fae, humans and Gods alike. They are so sought after, for their power, for the knowledge, for their sight. Seers have the power to uncover what is hidden, lurking in the darkness. They are the very light that unveils the darkness. They have been hunted to be exterminated for that very power…”

It had been the very reason why Helion had taken you in when you were a child, guarded carefully in the Day Court. To ensure the prosper of your power, the prosper of your light.

Amber eyes darted around the table, eyes staring at the High Lords that had situated themselves in this very room, listening to his tale before they stared back at Rhysand, “You, being the powerfullest High Lord if all of Pyrthian should have known that. And now, her body, one filled with Unknown-God-and Cauldron bound powers is missing…”

A huff escaped his lips in exasperation as he sat down back into his seat, “Her body should be buried here, in my Court, where she rightfully belongs to. But, no. And none of us could properly pray respects for the loss of her light…”

It was no secret that Helion had a soft spot for you. You were like his child, raising you since you were small, watching you grow and become a bright light within the Day Court. He knew how your light felt, how he basked in it as if it was the sun that radiated overhead.

And so when he had woken up that night in cold sweat, feeling the vanishing of your light — he knew something had gone terribly wrong.

“… — Helion…” Feyre tentatively called out to him, “You said her body is Cauldron bound? What do you mean by that?”

The Day High Lord glanced at the High Lady, staring her down before he nodded his head once. Leaning forward to rest his chin on his hand, “That’s what both myself and (Y/N) believe. (Y/N) is one the strongest Seers I have met in my life, those few Seers that I have encountered, ones that have wanted to remain hidden, are no match to (Y/N)’s powers. Your little Cauldon-Made Seer is no match for her either,” he sneered at the middle Archeron sister.

"There has been little records of Seers in Prythian, we all know that. Not even my libraries had enough information about them and their powers. But, despite that, (Y/N) was able to hone into her powers with little instructions… You know that she doesn’t just see the future, she was able to see what was happening now. She was able to focus on parts of Pyrthian and tell me what is and what will happen.

“But during the war with Hybern, much like when Nesta felt the Cauldron, (Y/N) felt it too. We didn’t know why, but we realized she and the Cauldron were somewhat connected. Whether it be the Cauldron was reason why she has her visions or if the Cauldron was the source of her power, they were bound. A natural connection between the two of them. And when the Cauldron broke, (Y/N) had told me she felt the Cauldron’s power sought refuge with her, as if the Cauldron sought her light.

“After the war, she had asked for my opinion — she felt the remnants of the Cauldron’s power tingling through her. She told me she saw more visions, visions of the far off future that she had no idea when would happen, and that her powers were starting to become out of her control. She was starting to lose herself in her powers, lose her mind to it… I didn’t know how to help her…”

The Inner Circle remembered, weeks after the end of the war, (Y/N) had asked if she could return to Day Court for a few weeks. Rhysand had let her, thinking it was not important. Azriel, too, didn’t question on her reason why she wanted to leave.

It was when they started to not care. When they started to focus their attention to Elain — the Seer that had defeated the King of Hybern.

Helion let out a broken laugh, staring at the Inner Circle, “I’m sure you never knew, did you? On how broken she started to be after the war. You never knew how her sleep was plagued with visions, that she couldn’t even close her eyes without images flashing behind them. Of how she sobbed in bed, wondering if she was in a dream or reality. She couldn’t differentiate anymore… And you…” eyes focusing on Azriel, “You never felt her pain because you put up a wall between your mating bond. Did you know, Azriel…”

The Day High Lord’s tone was seething, remembering those day.

“Did you know, how she cried for you? She begged down the bond for you to come and help. Wanting your protection, wanting to help sooth the pain she had felt? Wanting you just to be there? But all she could feel was the wall you placed, ignoring her… abandoning her when she needed all of you the most…

“I sent her back, hoping that all of you would help. I sent her back with sleeping tonics, hoping to help her with her sleep. Hoping that her family and mate would help her through her toughest time. Hoping that you all would see her. But I can see that never happened. That no matter how much she begged for you all to listen to her visions, to see her in pain, you ignored,” his voice was laced with anger, disappointment.

No one said a word. The air in the room tense and dense at the revelation that Helion lamented. No one knew of what you had gone through.

Azriel felt his his heart burn in his chest, as if his siphons were burning his skin — he felt the remnants of the broken mating bond in his chest, aching more at Helion’s words.

He didn’t know, he didn’t see, he didn’t feel the pain you were going through. He had ignored the tug of the bond when he had that wall up. He had been too infatuated with the middle Archeron sister, wanting her to feel belonged in their Court — all the while alienating the person who had been with him through thick and thin.

And, yet, he couldn’t do the same for you.

Bright blue eyes closed as Feyre silently mourned and apologized to the Heavens, to the night sky where you might have been.

But she realized on the implications of what had Helion had told them — that you might have been the Cauldron-bound object that Koschei needed to escape that lake.

She looked up at Rhysand, and he to her as they communicated down the bond. Both of them realizing what could happen.

The gesture wasn’t missed by Helion as he watched them, waiting for them to explain what they might have discovered. However, when they did not say anything, a growl escaped his chest.

“What is it?”

Feyre and Rhysand looked at the Day High Lord, hesitance shown in their features, “… It’s about what (Y/N) had told us. You all saw it in that memory…”

Helion thought, playing the memory back as he watched remembered your face, the anguish of your features shining through his head, listening to your words — your vision of what might pass.

“… That Koschei needed something from the Cauldron to be released from the lake,” Lucien pointed out from his spot next to Helion, the russete eye looking at Elain before back to Feyre.

“What if…” Tarquin mumbled, “…Koschei found (Y/N)’s body? If you and (Y/N) knew of the connection to the Cauldron, that the Cauldron sought her power. He could use her body to be freed from that lake.”

Helion looked at the Summer High Lord, amber eyes wide at the realization, “… If that were to come to pass, we would be doomed. (Y/N)’s body is probably soaked in Cauldron powers. It would be so easy for Koschei to be freed, and no one would ever notice. It is not impossible, but since (Y/N)’s body has disappeared, it is possible for her to have fallen into his clutches.”

Kallias, in the mist of the conversation, was watching, observing, the only remaining Seer in the room. He leaned forward, bright blue hues staring the Made-Fae, as he rested both arms on the table, “Have you had any visions?”

Heads turned towards the High Lord of Winter at his question. It did not phase him, as he continued, ”I heard from your High Lady that you rarely said anything about your visions, since the Cauldron broke. So do tell us, what have you seen about the Death-God?” If she had her powers still, a Seer would be still useful in this situation.

Elain visibly swallowed, as all attention was on her once more. Brown eyes frantically glanced around the table, over to her sisters and then to Azriel who both looked at her expectedly.

A heartbeat later, and the Middle Archeron sister knew that she couldn't lie.

She shook her head, “I have not seen anything… since the Cauldron broke…” her words nothing but a whisper in the wind.

It was as if a pin dropped on marble floors, the silence in the room was penetrating.

A laugh broke the silence. Eris’ shook his in disbelief on the drama they were hearing, “So you’re telling us, you have been lying about having your powers. And that (Y/N), who has actually seen those visions had taken her life?” he glared at the middle Archeron sister, “For what? Because you needed a position in the Night Court? So that you can gain the Spymaster’s affection? To bed him?”

Elain shook her head again, brown eyes desperate as she tried to catch eye with her family, with Nesta, who just looked away, brows furrowed with anguish, “… I just wanted to be useful…” she whispered in fear, slumping down in her chair, “My powers… were the only thing that made me feel like I belonged… But I didn’t have them, and… I just, didn’t want to lose my family.”

“And yet, you were willing to let (Y/N) lose her family, her mate… and her life. Just to keep your own,” Thesan expressed, "That selfishness will be the downfall of Pyrthian."

Elain flinched at the truth thrown onto her face, eyes down-casting, silence taking over her form.

Before anyone could reprimand Elain for her actions, the grand doors slammed open, a dark mist blowing throughout the room. Frightened and confused screams echoed through the room.

Helion stood up, using his power of light to dissipate the darkness that tried to cover the room. Amber eyes glowed as he watched as a cloaked figure float into the room.

Eyes watched the cloaked figure as it settled its form onto the floor, bare pale feet touching the marble.

“… I would think… that if the Pyrthian High Lords would gather… they would invite a God to their meeting. But I guess, manners do not exist in this world…” the voice was grating and brittle.

The hood swept, as if eyes inside were looking at all the High Lords that were now standing up, all attention to him.

A eerie chuckle escaped the hooded figure, spiny fingers grasping the edge before slipping it down. White hair and black eyes were revealed, pale, sickly skin glowed underneath the darkness that had surrounded him.

The figure bowed, a mocking gesture to the High Lords.

“It seems, that you are unaware of who you are being greeted by…” a boney finger raised up and pointed towards Nesta, the eldest sister stiffening, “Though I’m quite sure you do, dearest sister…” he grinned at her.

Nesta gulped and looked at the uninvited guest. She knew who would greet her like that — only the Death Caver has echoed the same words, “You’re Koschei… aren’t you…”

Koschei grinned wider, head tilting to the side as he stepped forward, laughing as the High Lords ready themselves for a battle with the Death-God.

“Oh don’t be so tense, my High Lords…” he mockingly commented, sweeping a hand, “Please sit… Do not stop your meeting for dear little old me. Though it is such an honor for you to do so.”

He rounded the table, eyes making contact with each of the High Lord, black eyes sweeping over their forms before he stopped before Rhysand.

Violet hues and black sockets stared at each other.

“Though I do have to thank you, High Lord of the Night… You have gifted me the precious gift of life. Though, it was through the loss of one of your own… You might have known her. Cared for her… Loved her…” Koschei looked at Azriel whose hazel eyes burned at the Death-God.

He let out a low laugh.

Tarquin’s assumption was right — the Death-God had used your body to free himself from the lake, right underneath their noses. No one felt it, no one knew. And it had been too late to do anything about it; months too late to prevent the resurrection, months too late to find your missing body, months too late of not listening to you.

Koschei looked behind him, far past the grand windows, the familiar cry of the bird of fire and ash echoing through the lands of Day Court, heading towards them — Vassa had come to stop the sorcerer-lord from his destruction.

However, before she landed on the balcony, an arrow, made of shadow and darkness struck her, causing the great bird to plummet to the land beneath her.

Lucien gasped and ran towards the balcony, peering down to see if the mortal queen had survived the fall; but there was no sign of the cursed queen anywhere below.

“What a dramatic entry by Vassa, as always…” Koschei said with a sigh, before another chuckle escaped his lips, dark eyes boring into the empty spot beside him, “Don’t you think… (Y/N)?”

All heads snapped towards the Deathless God, your name slipping from his lips, as they watched a swirl of darkness materialized a familiar figure. Azriel watched, hazel eyes wide as he took in your form, whisps of shadows that had whirled around you — his shadows, one that had abandoned him ever since your death.

“…(Y/N)…” Azriel whispered in disbelief, his voice shaking.

There you stood, next to the Death-God, very much alive.

Very much like a Death-God yourself.

And it echoed in your outfit — tendrils of shadow made up your dress, covering you from head to toe, fluttering near your feet as if a gown swayed by the wind. In your hands, a bow and arrow made of those shadows — the very bow that had struck Vassa down from her flight.

That was where Azriel’s shadows had gone to — leaving him, following you to your death, and making you someone completely different.

Someone that was going to be the downfall of Pyrthian itself.

Tagging: @cleverzonkwombatsludge, @setayeshmohseni, @kindasleepycryptid, @f4iry-bell, @woodland-mist, @kalulakunundrum, @topaz125, @thelov3lybookworm, @hnyclover, @harrystylesfan2686, @anuttellaa, @ithan-holstroms-girl, @judig92, @venuseuripedis, @fairywriter-oracle, @thehighlordishere, @acourtofbatboydreams, @willowpains, @historygreekqueen, @dr4g0ngirl, @ayme301, @kemillyfreitas, @crazylokonugget, @abysshaven, @michaelharrypotter, @naturakaashi, @kittenbi, @namelesssav, @guiltyreader, @awkardnerd, @je-suis-prest-rachel, @quackitysdrugdealer, @thesunloveschips, @brieflyclassymortal, @justdreamstars, @isa1b2h3, @himesuedi, @fxckmiup, @starswholistenanddreamsanswered, @t0uch-starved-h0e, @mybestfriendmademe

[lunajay33]

The Deer and the Fox

•🦌🍁🪵•

Summary: Being Rhysands little sister had its perks except when it came to your interest in a specific heir of Autumn, one night you decided to sneak away to the autumn court and when you get lost a certain fox finds you and the story unfolds

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x f!reader

•Masterlist•

Love

Love is all I ever wanted, I craved it seeing all the ones around me find the perfect mate for them broke my heart, of course I’m happy to see my loved ones happy but sitting around the family table, my brother sat with his beautiful mate and son, Cassian with Nesta, Mor with her girlfriend, and Azriel with Gwyn, it made me the odd one out, they never left me out which I appreciate but it’s not the same, I want to experience the love that makes my heart pump, my knees weak, my head fuzzy and the only time I’ve felt a morsel of that was at a ball Rhys and Feyre had thrown a month ago, where a certain red haired man caught my eye, he was beautiful he was perfect, his suit tailored perfectly to his firm body, his hair combed back showing of his sharp features, seeing him from across the room my heart jolted and he caught my eyes sending me a wink

I blink once and he’s right in front of me his warmth surrounding me in a comforting blanket, his smell a mix of cinnamon and autumn leaves

“And who might you be little fawn?” He asked a twinkle of curiosity in his amber eyes

“I’m Rhysands sister, y/n”

“A sister and how come I’ve never seen your beauty around before” he said leaning closer as I felt the heat rise up to my cheeks

“This is my first ball, I’ve never had the chance before, and you are?”

“Eris Vanserra, I’m from the autumn court” he bowed

“I could tell from your scent, if the court is any essence of how you come off it must be lovely” his eyes widen

“You can smell my scent”

“Of course it’s quite strong, cinnamon laced with autumn leaves, everyone is this ball should be able to sense it why?”

“Most people can’t smell my scent little fawn” he smirked

“And why is that Eris?”

“I wouldn’t want to spoil it for you, till next time beautiful” he leaned forward taking my hand and placing a gentle kiss to my hand before he was gone leaving me with so many questions

•

“Earth to y/n you in there?” Mor asked waving her hand infront of my face breaking my thoughts of Eris

“Oh sorry were you saying something?” I asked embarrassed as the whole table had their eyes on me

“I’d say you had your mind on a certain someone again” Mor is the only one I’ve talked to about Eris and she told me the truth about what really went down that night between them

“What no, mor shut up” I groan

“Thinking about who might I ask” Rhys asked amusement written all over his face

“No one don’t worry about it”

“Eris Vanserra” not blurted out and I smacked her arm

I looked at Rhys nervous I knew his feelings towards the men of the autumn court

“I will not allow it, my baby sister will not be mistreated by a man like that”

“Rhys I’m not a baby and nothing happening I talked to him once, but he was nice to me” I said fiddling with my fingers

“Rhys she’s just exploring my love” Feyre stepped in trying to calm him

“I’m only trying to protect her” he sighed

“I’m sick of being alone Rhys”

“What’re you talking about you have all of us”

“Come on, every one of you are mated or with a partner I’m lonely I want to experience a romantic relationship I want to feel wanted I want to feel love, and he is the only one to ever make me feel something even for a brief moment, and his scent was so intoxicating mother above is it so wrong I want all of that when all of you do?” I huffed after my rant

Everyone was silent mouths basically dropped to the floor

“What?”

“You smelled his scent” Azriel asked

“Yeah what’s so bad about that?”

“Only mates can smell each others true scent”

My heart almost burst through my chest, mate are they sure

“I doubt that he’s way too handsome for me I mean have you seen him, maybe it was just his cologne or something”

“No girl, that’s your mate” amren said non chalonte

“This can’t be happening” Rhys said dragging his hand through his hair

“Mate” my heart felt at peace for the first time in a while

•

That night I couldn’t settle knowing that what I’ve been wanting forever is out there right now waiting for me, atleast I hope he is, I got up collecting myself throwing a sheer shoulder covering over myself for the chill of the night and winnowed away landing on the edge of the autumn court, the woods whirling with the wind rustling the leaves, the scent reminding me of the man I came here for, the night is dark only being illuminated by the full moon above

I started to head inwards, jumping at ever little noise, an owl screeching, a twig snapping, so preoccupied by every little noise I didn’t notice the sudden dip into a hill ahead of me till it was too late, tripping forward down the hill leaves crunching as I rolled until I bumped into a rock hitting my hip at the end of the hill stopping my fall

Groaning I sat up feeling the sharp pain throbbing in my hip and the definite bruises that would litter my body, then suddenly my senses were enveloped in the warm cinnamon I craved to smell again

“Oh dear if you wanted to see me that badly you didn’t have to fall so hard for me” he smirked as he kneeled infront of me and suddenly all the pain faded to the back of my mind

“Eris! You’re here” I said excitement lacing my voice my smile ached with how wide I was smiling

“I could sense you were hurt little fawn, I’ll find you anywhere” he said gently brushing his fingers against my hip over my silk night gown

“You know”

“Of course I know how could I not when I was graced the most beautiful, delicious little mate, I knew from the moment my eyes landed on you” he stated as he picked me up into his arms, gasping as the pain came back

“What does that mean now I’ve never……I’ve never really had a relationship before” I said wrapping my arms around his neck as he headed to his home I assume

“We can take things slow, take it at your pace get to know each other, as long as you’re comfortable my fawn” in the clearing a warm light emerged from a little cabin pumpkins on the door step, fallen leaves covering the roof

“I’d really like that but, can we not tell anyone for a while, I want to just be me and you not have to worry about what anyone else thinks”

“I think that’s a good idea” he laid me on the couch slowly lifted my nightie enough to see the gash on my hip

“Oh angel, let me fix you up can’t send you back home all banged up” his words had my heart aching

“What I don’t wanna go home yet, a little longer please”

“I wouldn’t be apposed to the most beautiful being staying the night in my home”

“Really?!”

“Of course now relax the nights just starting”

•

The night was warm feeling his arms wrapped around me his chest pressed firmly to my back it all felt right but the sun rose and I have to go home

“Goodmorning” he smiled his voice deep from sleep, I turned our faces so close I could feel his lips

“You’re like a fox you know”

“How so” he laughed

“You’re so alluring, your smile pulls me in but there’s something dangerous lurking but I can’t help myself but wanting more and you’re so mysterious and sly”

“Guess this fox caught the perfect deer, so sweet and beautiful, innocent and those big doe eyes” his voice getting husky as his hand traces my waist

“Please kiss me Eris” not being able to wait anymore

His lips warm our lips melded together because they were made for eachother, we are meant for eachother, I slowly got heated but I got nervous and didn’t want to go too far too quickly

“I have to go, someone will notice” he sighed resting his head against mine

“Be careful and don’t go tripping down a hill again, until next time Angel”

•

I winnowed back to velaris right outside the door of the house of wind, walking inside to Cassian and Nesta sat infront of the fire place as it was still early and the other were still probably asleep

“Well if it isn’t my little sis having her first walk of shame” he laughed as Nesta smacked his chest playfully

“I don’t know what you’re talking about I was just out for a early walk” I said sitting across from them

“In the same nightie as last night? Is that blood?” Nesta asked making Cassian shoot up quickly examining my hip that was already delicately wrapped by Eris

“What happened are you okay?” He asked like the big brother he is to me

“I’m alright I just fell and cut open my leg, but it’s all okay now”

“And who patched you up”

“Ummm majda?”

“You think we’re fools, she’d have healed you immediately” Nesta stated

“Please don’t say anything” I said worrying my lip

“Don’t worry sis your secret it safe with us”

•

Being mated wasn’t how I thought it would be, yes I knew mates were madly in love but feeling it was completely different, I craved to be near him to feel his touch, to just hear him speak but alas Rhys sent me on every job possible leaving me exhausted for a week too tired to winnow until tonight, Feyre convinced Rhys to give me the weekend off and thankfully he listened and I am finally able to see him again, the sun starts setting and I winnow away back to the cabin I remember feeling so warm and cozy

“Eris are you here?” I called out as I entered the cabin just to see Lucien sat on the couch

“Y/n? What’re you doing here?” He asked surprised

“I……what’re you doing here?” I asked trying to deflect

“This is my families cabin I can be here” soon I felt that loving warmth behind me in the doorway as strong arms wrapped around my hips

“I’m here now my dear”

“What is going on here?” Lucien groaned utterly confused

“Nothing of your concern brother let’s just keep this between us especially from your dear mate okay?” His voice commanding making my knees weak

“Fine just be nice to her brother” Lucien had always been a sweetheart

“Come my dear let’s go somewhere private” we walked through the darkening woods hand in hand

“I’m sorry it took me a week to come see you again, Rhys has been on me to do everything I’ve been exhausted”

“I’ve missed you, thought of you every night waiting to be able to hold you again, you know I could come to you aswell, sneak me in like we’re young again” he smirked squeezing my hand

“You might be joking but I’d really like that, I missed you too, I can’t go that long without you again”

“And you’ll never have to again”

[dootznbootz]

Hi. I'm cyberbullying a long dead poet because of his shitty fanfic. Enjoy. I'd love it if you joined me.

(Before you get mad at me, yes, I know Eugammon of Cyrene is an important figure and all that. I'm sick with some sort of flu. Let me cyberbully an ancient dead fanfic writer in peace.)

[lady-of-tearshed]

Solace

Eris Vanserra x Reader

(Unedited yet! Posted it by accident 😑 I didn't even realized it until @daycourtofficial reposted 🤣 I was so confused lol)

Summary: Eris comes back from a meeting exhausted. He is overwhelmed with his new role as a High Lord lately, and his mate decides to take special care of him.

Eris sighed as he came back to your shared chambers later than anticipated from an awfully boring meeting. He had still tons of work to be done with, new courtiers to hire, troops reorganization, and court finances issues to fix and analyze in more depth. He was supposed to hand back a report about analyzing these financial issues this afternoon actually, but he didn’t even have time to finish writing it. Surprisingly, his courtiers had decided to be kind enough not to bring up his missing report in his meeting this afternoon.

His ears perk up when he hears the bathtub water running from the bathroom. He quietly walks his way there, and spots you pouring bubble bath and salts into the tub. He spots two sets of matching pajamas perfectly folded on the bathroom countertop. You were running him a bath… His heart swells with guilt, feeling ashamed of being absent recently. And yet there you were… still taking care of him.

Pangs of guilt flow through the bond, you look over your shoulder to see your mate staring at you, his brows frowned in concern “I’m unworthy of you…”. His Adam's apple bobs as he tries to swallow the tick knot in his throat. 

You walk over to Eris and wrap your arms around his neck, his instinctively resting on your hips. You stare into his eyes with determination and pure honesty shining into them and say “I am to judge whether or not someone is worthy of me, and you, Eris Vanserra, I can confidently say that you are.”. 

He opens his mouth and shakes his head to complain, but you cut him off with a sweet kiss on his lips “Don’t go down that path, please.” He sighs but kisses you back gently on your forehead, breathing in your comforting scent. “Okay…”

You smile and slowly pull back to stop the faucet before the bath overflows on the tiles. Eris can’t help but stare at your curves as you undress and sink into the bath first, a content sigh falls from your lips as the warm water makes your whole body melt in delight.

“Why are you still standing there?” You tease as you look over at Eris, frozen in his contemplation. His hands were still gripping the edge of his shirt he had wanted to take off before getting distracted. He shakes his head and chuckles at his own thoughts, thinking about how his wife could take his attention away by doing literally anything. He undresses and settles himself in the bath between your legs, his back pressed against your chest. You run your wet fingers through his hair and he groans in pleasure, leaning his head back onto your shoulder. You smile and kiss the side of his face.

It has been a while since you had any kind of intimacy with Eris, he had been spending a lot of time fixing the mistakes and changing the ways of Beron’s past reign in the past few weeks. You had caught him falling asleep in his study a few times recently, he looked so drained that every time you found him asleep on his desk, you felt too bad to wake him up to selfishly have him beside you in bed. So every time, you only had placed a pillow under his head, wrapped a sheet around his shoulders, and kissed his head goodnight silently. 

When you snap out of your thoughts, you turn your head and notice that Eris’s eyes are now shut, his lips slightly parted, all of his features relaxed and his head feels heavier onto your shoulder… “You’re not falling asleep on me… are you?” you chuckle “No…no.” He whispers under his breath.

He sits up and stretches his neck, hissing slightly at the soreness caused by his constant stress, lack of sleep, and probably many other factors. 

“I still need to finish writing this report-” He almost moans when your fingers expertly start to knead his poor muscles. 

You smile and hold back a laugh at Eris' pleased sounds. His thoughts were now completely off his work and the thing he was about to say. His soreness slowly fades away as your fingers work their magic on him. 

As you keep applying just enough pressure on the sore spots on Eris's shoulders, your eyes dart to his many moles and freckles. You suddenly realize that you don’t often have the opportunity to stare at his bare back. “Beautiful…” the words fall from your lips absent-mindedly.

Your words breaking the silence confuse Eris “...What?” he asks, his voice low from the deep state of relaxation you had managed to soak him in. “I said they’re beautiful, your moles and freckles. They make me think of a starry night sky. You are exquisite, my love.”.

The blush on his face travels up all the way to his ears, and he mumbles a shy ‘you too’, too stunned to answer anything back at your sweet words. He wonders how you manage to do it, every word that comes out of your mouth is always so honest and so… poetic. 

—

The bubbles of the bath had completely melted, and the water was starting to turn cold when you both decided to get out of the bath. You had braided your damp hair before the two of you quite literally crawled your way under the soft duvet of your bed. 

Eris was gently stroking your cheek with his thumb, admiring your peaceful figure lying down in front of him. He was trying his best to heat up your ice-cold feet with his legs wrapped around yours. After years of marriage, he still couldn’t understand how your feet always seemed to be literal ice cubes. You were starting to drift to sleep when suddenly you reminded yourself of something “You know that unfinished report you were worried about earlier?”

“Yeah?”

“You finished it this afternoon.”

He furrows his eyebrows in confusion “Impossible, I was in a meeting this afternoon-” Realization hits him when he hears you scoff quietly, his eyes soften and he pulls you closer to his chest, squeezing you tightly into his arms and kissing the crown of your head. You nuzzle into his warmth, appreciating the low rumble of his chest when he speaks up quietly before you both drift to sleep. “Thank you…”

“I love you.” You whisper as you fall back asleep.

“I love you the most, my solace.” 

••••••••••••

A/N: Well, I was supposed to post it on Friday or Saturday, but here we are! 😅 Hope you like it. I barely edited it, so if you guys notice anything, please let me know 💕

[multi-fandom-imagines8]

What We Could’ve Been

Part 1

Summary: You are Rhysand’s younger sister and have been tasked with dealing with Eris. The two of you have a complicated, teasing relationship, with banter and attraction, but how will it end?

WC: 1.7 K

You can read part 2 here. Fictober Challenge

You were well-versed in the art of negotiation, your presence as formidable as your brother's. Today, however, you faced the infuriating son of the Autumn Lord, Eris Vanserra. No one from the Inner Circle liked him, nor did they want to deal with him, and the feeling was mutual. While he respected Rhysand and they were somewhat allies but still, their relationship was always tense. However, there was one person he seemed to tolerate- you. Having more patience than the rest, you had agreed to mediate between the two.

This time, you had bad news to deliver. The missing Autumn Court soldiers had been found and killed by Azriel and Cassian, with only two survivors. Now, you had to explain to Eris why and ask him to come fetch his soldiers.

You had winnowed to the Spring Court forest to meet, but of course, he made you wait.

“You’re late, Vanserra” you muttered, filing your nails, not sparing him a glance as he winnowed in.

“Some of us actually have important matters to handle.”

“And I don’t?”

He smirked, cocking an eyebrow “I’m probably the most important thing you’ll ever handle.”

You scoffed “you think very highly of yourself. I’m only here because no one else wants to deal with your ass, and I’m the only one with patience for it”.

“So what’s the news, sweetheart?” He asked with a condescending grin as he leaned against a tree.

You sighed “You want the bad news first or the good one?”

“Bad, always.”

You locked eyes with him, your voice softening as you delivered the blow “Most of your soldiers are dead.”

The grin vanished from his face “And the good news?”

“Two survived”.

His jaw clenched “Let me guess, it was the brute bastards’ doing, wasn’t it?”

Your expression hardened “If you’re going to insult my friends then I’m leaving.”

“So they kill my soldiers, and I’m not even allowed to say a bad word about them?” his voice dropped, cold and furious.

“It was in self defense. They were enchanted by Queen Briallyn and Koschei, acting like rabid dogs” You explained, keeping your voice steady.

His eyes flickered with restrained anger “And the ones that survived? Were they tortured by your ‘not brute’ bastard of a friend?”

You sighed deeply, your patience thinning “Look, I’m sorry about your soldiers, but there’s nothing that can be done about it now.”

Just as Eris opened his mouth to retort, you glanced behind him, your eyes widening in alarm. Eris turned, his own instincts flaring as Tamlin emerged, claws all out. Eris tensed, ready to fight him, but you stepped forward, placing your hand on his arm.

“We were just leaving. We want no trouble” you said quickly, your voice calm but firm.

“You wouldn’t have trespassed on my lands if you wanted no trouble” Tamlin growled, stalking closer. Eris stepped in front of you this time, his body shielding yours.

“You don’t bother ruling anymore, so we thought it’d be alright to be in the forest” Eris sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Tamlin’s eyes narrowed “So not only are you trespassing, but you dare insult me?”

“Y/n, go” Eris ordered, his voice tight with tension.

You hesitated. “Now!” he commanded, his eyes flickering back to you with urgency, and so you winnowed out, leaving them behind.

After you got home safely, you paced your room, thinking of what to do next. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t worried about Eris, despite how infuriating he was. You informed Rhys and the others of what happened, and your brother promised to look into it. But as the evening passed, anxiety gnawed at you. Once you went back to your apartment in the city and were about to change into more comfortable clothes, a voice startled you “Were you worried about me?” Even without seeing him, you knew the bastard was smirking.

You flicked the light on and turned to find him lounging in your chair, his posture lazy, but his eyes sharp “What the hell are you doing here, Vanserra?”

“Oh, ‘Hey Eris, I’m glad you’re alive and thank you for saving my life’” he mocked, mimicking your voice with a dramatic wave of his hand.

You crossed your arms “I could’ve handled Tamlin. I didn’t want to start another war with everything that’s going on. I hope you didn’t either.”

“Ah, don’t worry. We had a friendly chat.”

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously “What did you do to him, Vanserra?”

“Nothing, I promise. He’s alive” He raised his hands in mock surrender, his expression one of fake innocence.

“Why are you here?” you asked, tired of the games.

“Our friendly chat was interrupted” he said casually, standing up from the chair with a slow grace.

“I believe I conveyed the message. If you’re here to pick up your soldiers, you’re talking to the wrong sibling.”

His lips twitched “Where is your sense of hospitality, sweetheart?”

“I only ever invite my friends over.”

He placed a hand over his chest dramatically “You wound me.” Then, his expression shifted back to serious “Just bring the soldiers to the Autumn Court border tomorrow, I’ll meet you there. And come alone” he strode past you slowly, letting his fingers brush against yours as he took in the scent of your hair.

—-

“You’re late, sweetheart” Eris drawled, sharpening his knife, not meeting your eyes.

“Had to keep you on your toes” you replied, handing over the two soldiers. He finally looked up at you. A smile involuntarily tugged at his lips, but it vanished quickly as you said “Our work here is done. See you at the next sign of trouble.”

He hesitated before speaking “Wait… do you want to come over for tea?”

Your brow arched in surprise “Over as in your place? The two of us? Drinking tea? Together?”

“Yes” he replied, confusion flickering in his eyes “It’s just tea.”

“It’s never just tea with you” you crossed your arms, trying to decrypt what his intention was.

He sighed, his frustration seeping through “Never mind, just forget it.” He shook his head, the cold, indifferent mask slipping back on.

He was just trying to be friendly- nice, since you had always seen him as a heartless villain. But in reality, this was just a mask you could hide behind instead of facing your true feelings.

“Right. I’ll see you around, Vanserra. Just don’t cause trouble.”

His smirk returned, insufferable as ever “I’ll try.”

—

Months had passed since you last saw Eris, but finally he’d attend the Winter Solstice ball.

He had been formal all evening, offering polite congratulations to Rhys and Feyre on their baby news. He hadn’t even glanced your way, until now.

“May I?” Eris extended his hand, asking you to dance. You had remained formal as well and nodded slightly, accepting his offer and taking his adm.

And there it was, his devilish smirk slowly returning as he led you to the floor.

“I see you managed to remain formal this evening” you remarked.

“And when am I not, sweetheart?” he asked, his smirk deepening.

“Every time I’m dealing with you” you shot back, tilting your head to see his reaction.

“Ah! That.”

You narrowed your eyes slightly “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you’re the only person I’m not formal with” he admitted just as the music began. Slowly, he slid his arm from your grasp, and with a subtle pull, he drew you in closer. In one fluid motion, you found yourself face to face with him, his hand resting firmly at your waist, the warmth of his touch lingering through the fabric. He took your other hand and intertwined it with his.

You swallowed hardly as your eyes met his. This was the first time the two of you got this close. You wanted to ask why, but in your heart you already knew. And if he said it out loud, you weren’t sure how you’d handle it. So instead, you changed the subject “How are your men?”

He was silent for a moment as the both of you swayed. His gaze lingered on you a little longer than usual, then he let out a small hum of amusement, aware of your attempt to steer the conversation in a different direction. “My men are fine. How are your brute friends?” The truth is he didn't care in the slightest. But if you were going down that route, then he would follow.

“Hmm. You asking about Az and Cas? That’s weird. Are you sure you’re not ill or something?” you teased with a smirk appearing on your face.

“Quit the games, Y/n” he said, his voice steady, confident.

“And what would you rather have me do?” You asked and he twirled you around effortlessly before pulling you back in closer than before. The way he had so much control over your body.

Leaning in, his voice dropped to a slow, nonchalant drawl, his tone cool and unbothered “l’d have plenty of things for you to do.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, but you managed to stay composed. You slightly pulled back to look him in the eyes “Now who’s playing games?”

“I’m not” he replied, his tone sincere. You searched his eyes for a hint of deception, but you found none. Shit, this had thrown you off guard. You had no quick retort, nothing clever to say. You had to think of something, and quickly.

Desperate for an out, you blurted “We’re having a family breakfast tomorrow. You should come” as soon as the words came out of your mouth, you regretted them. What the hell were you thinking inviting him to breakfast with Rhys and the Inner Circle? They all hate him and would demand an explanation as to why Eris was even invited. “As an ally…of course. You could…solidify your relationship…partnership? with my brother…a-and the rest… I guess?” instead of making the situation better, you just kept on babbling and made it even worse. You winced internally at how dumb you sounded.

“I don’t think I’d be welcome” he paused for a moment, studying you. Of course he knew you didn’t mean it when you invited him, but the bastard couldn’t miss an opportunity like that. You could see the amusement in his eyes as he continued “But since you asked so nicely, I’ll be there” he grinned wickedly.

That fucker! He had you in a chokehold. There was nothing you could do, there was no way out now…unless you wanted to admit defeat.

[purple-writer8]

But Daddy I Love Him - ACOTAR

Rhysand x Autumn Court Reader (Beron’s Daughter)

“I’ll tell you something right now, I’d rather burn my whole life down than listen to one more second of all this bitching and moaning.”

warnings: abused eris, autumn court shenanigans, mentioned abuse (verbal and physical), talks of violence, forbidden love, beron being beron, beron being abusive, physical abuse, angst, sexism, the autumn court brothers

2.5k words

Masterlist :)

You were Beron's Achilles heel. 

His youngest child and only daughter. The Princess of Autumn. You were spoiled, by your parents and your six older brothers--loved by everyone in your family. You knew they all hated each other, that your father was a bad man, abusive to your brothers and your mother. But for some reason, you were loved by him, doted on by him. 

You didn't look a lot like him, or like your brothers, or like your mother. Unlike them, you sported dirty blonde hair, though your powers still resembled theirs-- wielding fire like the rest of your family. 

Despite your peculiar hair color, your father loved you inmensely, showing you more affection than he did any of your elder siblings combined. You were lucky, lucky that he didn't do with you what he did to your brothers, that he didn't unleash his wrath on you like he did on Eris or the others. 

What Beron did do, though, was shelter you. You lived in the Autumn Palace, and rarely ever saw outside of it. Your father would rather you stay in your rooms, where you were safe from the dangers of the realm. You had guards to accompany everywhere, and if it weren't guards-- it was your older brothers. You loved them, all of your brothers, but your favorite was Eris. 

He was the gentlest out of all of them, the one that cared the most for you, the one that understood you. Eris would do anything for you, and you for him. It was thanks to him that you found the love of your life. 

Rhysand.  

A year ago, Eris had convinced your father to let you attend balls and parties held by the other High Lords, to let you live a life outside your rooms and the gardens. Beron beat him for the suggestion, but nonetheless listened to him.  The first ball you attended was in the Dawn Court, a celebration of sorts. Most courtiers from all around Prythian were mesmerized-- and stunned-- to learn of your existence. 

Rhysand was one of them. Cauldron, the High Lord of the Night Court was smitten from the moment that he saw you enter alongside your brothers, your head bowed as you walked through the crowd. He had to have you. 

And he did just that. It was just pleasantries at first, he was kind to you-- much to Beron's dismay and Eris' chagrin. Everyone knew what the Night Court was made of, and how Rhysand ruled over it. Eris would rather kill the High Lord of Night than let him near you, caring not for court relations but for your well-being. He remembered what happened to Morrigan in the Night Court, tortured by her own family. 

He would never let you set foot there. 

The second ball you attended was in the Summer Court. Eris had been tasked by Beron to woo some Winter Court aristocrat's daughter, so he was quite busy. Which meant you could slip away without anyone noticing, explore the palace and finally not be babysat by your brother. 

You had found a balcony that overlooked the city of Adriata when you heard, "There you are... I've been looking for you," in that deep voice you had been incessantly thinking about ever since your first outing. 

You turned to find Rhysand standing there, clad in black leather, his violet eyes shining bright while a feline smirk grazed his perfectly sculpted features. You blinked, your doe eyes shining for him. 

He smiled wide, and you instantly knew you were done for. You would be his. 

And you were. You and Rhysand began a secret relationship, a secret and dangerous relationship. You let him in, let him into your mind, let him be the one to take your purity. You were Rhysand's and he was yours. Not only that, but you saw each other in secret at different gatherings. And sometimes he winnowed into Autumn territory in the dead of night to see you, not caring for the consequences of his actions. Of what Beron would do when he learned he had defiled you. 

"I almost melted his mind when I saw him eyeing you," Rhysand growled, kissing you neck in a feverish manner. You let out a low whine, your fingers running through his onyx  silky hair. "I can't wait to claim you," he spoke breathlessly, "to make you my wife." 

You moaned wantonly when one of his hands found its way under your skirts while the other worked to unbutton the top of your dress. "Take me to your court," you pleaded, hooking your leg on his lower waist and pulling him closer to you. 

"I'll take you, steal you away from this place... make you the Lady of Night..." he groaned, one hand snaking to your neck, holding you steady as he kissed down your neck and then your shoulders. You whined and writhed under his touch, then he said, "be quiet, baby... wouldn't want your daddy to find you like this..." 

No, you wouldn't. There was a ball happening, this time in your home, and you had slipped away just so Rhysand could follow you and corner you in a dimly lit hallway. Your arms snaked around his neck, pulling him closer into yourself, like you were a sick woman and the only remedy was Rhysand close to you. 

"Sister." The voice of Fenix, your second-eldest brother, ran through the hallway. You jumped, pushing Rhys off of your body as if he had the plague. Rhysand turned to the Vanserra male, a smirk on his face, as if he hadn't been caught in a very compromising situation. 

Fenix hummed, his eyes narrowed on you, "interesting." 

"Fenix..." you warned him, your eyes travelling to his hands that were now curled into tight fists. You were sure any second now he would send fire your lover's way. "You have one second to disappear before I lynch you and send you back to your cauldron forsaken court," your brother said in a dangerously low tone. 

Rhys was unbothered. "I think I'll be taking your sister with me then," he said, wrapping one strong arm around your waist. "Over my fucking dead body, Rhysand." 

You closed your eyes in defeat when you heard Eris' voice boom through the hallway.  A feline smile happened upon Rhys's lips, "that can be arranged." 

You turned to Eris, your eyes silently pleading with him, but it was for naught because he was only glaring at the man that had his arm wrapped tightly around you. "Drop my sister, Rhysand. Or there will be hell to pay." Eris warned slowly. 

"Eris, I love him!" You shrieked, only for Fenix to let out a low growl. "And I'll lynch him," he threatened, only for Rhys to laugh. 

"I would love to see you try. We're leavin-" Before Rhys could finish, a beam of fire was sent his way, though it misted before it could even touch him. You cried in horror when you saw your father standing at the end of the hallway, backed by the remaining of your brothers. Seldom from Lucien, who was not in Autumn anymore. "You dare touch my daughter?!" Beron roared, the walls of the palace shaking from the sheer force of his words. 

Rhysand grinned at him, "we can all talk about this like adults." 

Wishful thinking. Your brothers wasted no time in their attack on the Night Court's High Lord, sending flames at him-- though they were no match for Rhysand. He swiftly pushed you out of the way and winnowed around the hall, avoiding each attack. "Please stop!" You cried in horror, but to no avail. They wanted Rhysand dead. 

"You are BANISHED from this court, for now and forever." Your father's voice thundered through the palace, and instantly the flames died down-- leaving only a very shocked Rhysand. "Beron... we can talk abo-" 

"Leave now, or I send Eris to your court with our army. Leave or we are at war," at your father's threat, you turned to Rhysand in horror. You knew he could kill your entire family with a single blink, that he could really take you and form a war between courts-- and win it. 

He spoke in your mind. "Give me the word and I will take you away, bunny. I am not scared of your father or his weak threats." 

"Go. I will fix this." You responded. 

Rhysand turned to Beron, bowed with a wicked grin on his face, and winnowed away. You stared at the space he had just been standing in longing, before a grip yanked you forward. You whimpered as you looked up at your father's rage - filled expression. "How do you dare?" He asked in a tone that he had never once used on you. You trembled, his grip burning into your skin, causing you to wince in pain. 

Eris stepped between the two of you, pulling you behind his frame to shield you from your father's wrath. Beron's glare burned through Eris, and you could almost feel it burning your skin. "You will marry someone of my choosing. Until then, you will remain in your rooms." Beron spoke, his tone offering no room for bargaining. 

"But Daddy, I love him!" You cried, stepping from behind your older brother to face your father's rage. Beron growled, "what do you know about love? You're a woman! There's no choice for you in this matter!" 

You scoffed, he raised you just to cage you. "I love him!" You pressed again, and he simply rolled his eyes at you, "you know nothing of the world." 

"I love him, and I'm having his baby!" You shrieked, and horror instantly was etched unto your father's expression. Your brothers all looked as if they had seen a ghost, eyes wide and mouths hung open at your revelation. Eris covered his face with his hands, "I'll kill him..." 

"I'm not..." you admitted, "but cauldron, you should see your faces." 

Beron was frozen in shock at your boldness. He was not dealing with this. So to Eris growled, "deal with her." 

Your father winnowed away along with the rest of your brothers, leaving the eldest and you to sort out this mess. Before you knew it, your brother winnowed you away and into your room. "Sister, please come to your senses..." Eris started. 

"No, I am not coming to my senses," you snapped at Eris. 

"Rhysand is crazy, the entire Night Court is full of depraved individuals. Remember what happened to Morrigan? How they left her at our border? They'll do the same to you..." Eris trailed, his expression one full of pain and sheer anger. 

"I am not Morrigan! He would never hurt me... and Rhysand said he wasn't the one that hurt her. Eris, I know he may seem crazy, but he's the one I want. I love him! And he loves me!" You contested, your voice cracking as tears once more swelled in your eyes. Rhysand was chaos, he was revelry... and he was also the love of your life.  

 Eris let out a frustrated groan, he could not believe his sweet sister was so hung up on the cruelest High Lord there ever was in the history of Prythian. "Sleep on it, sister. Because Beron will never let you wed him," and with that, your brother left your room, slamming the door on his way out. Slamming the door on you and your future. 

- 

You were summoned early in the morning to breakfast with your family, you attended with your arguments sharp as knives-- ready to hurl them at your father. As soon as you entered the Dining Hall, your brothers erupted into their arguments, all of them reminding you of all the things Rhysand had done in his life. 

Your father looked smug as your five brothers scolded you for wanting the Night Court's leader. Your mother looked mortified, her face pained-- she just wanted you to be happy.  

"He melts minds," said Fenix. 

"He has those two bat boys, they are evil and kill innocents," said Zire. 

"He lets his court torture women, look at Morrigan," said Lukas. 

"I heard he keeps a hundred concubines in his palace," said Ember. 

"He runs his court without any sort of morals," said Eris. 

You thought it was rich coming from your brothers. They were the ones that tortured Lucien's lover, and the ones that ran him out of Autumn. They didn't know you knew that, though-- one of your servants had told you what had happened. 

Their hypocrisy and vile words towards Rhysand made you seethe, sending flames flying from your hands and to the walls of the room as you stood up. "I'd rather burn my whole life down than listen to one more second of all your hypocritical bitching and moaning," you screeched. 

Your brothers went still, their mouths all clamping shut as they stared at you in shock. 

"You're a Vanserra," your father growled. "Whether you like it or not, you do my bidding, and if you think I'll let you wed Rhysand just because you want to, then you are dafter than you appear, child."

You remained silent, digesting your father's words. You had always known your father to be cruel. Knew he beat your brothers, knew he was the one that bid them to kill Jesminda and run Lucien out of the court. But you had never known his cruelty, no. You had always been his weakness, the child he truly did appear to love. Though now you knew that just because he didn't you, it didn't mean that he cared any more for you than he did your brothers. 

"I may be a Vanserra," you trembled, "but I would gladly disgrace the name. You've already done it plenty." 

Beron never once expected you to go against him like this, no, you were the good one. You were the dutiful daughter, the one he had kept hidden for years on end to protect. Where did you get all this conviction?  Your father stood from his seat at the end of the table, Eris doing the same thing— ready to intervene if he were to attack you. 

Beron strode towards you quickly, and Eris tried to jump in between the two of you, but with a flick of his hand your father sent Eris flying to the wall. You gasped, meaning to rush to your brother, but your father grabbed you midway. 

His grip was deathly, and as you looked up at him— your blood ran cold. And before you could even pull away, his hand struck you across the face. 

-

Part Two

Author’s note:

i instantly got this idea when i heard this song like IT FITS PERFECT

Taglist: @mybestfriendmademe @lilah-asteria @sheblogs

[sugar-grigri]

I think I remember you making references to Fire Punch in a few analysis post so I assume you've read that one, but have you read Goodbye Eri, and if so do you have any particular thoughts you want to share on it? It might be my favorite, although it's hard to rank Fujimoto's works because there's something different I like about all of them.

Hi Yuta! or is it Fujimoto?

2022, Goodbye Eri is released and I'm in for a huge slap in the face! I've finally got the chance to talk about it, so thank you!

It's hard to come after the war after this one-shot has been the subject of so much analysis, interpretation and criticism. But I think it's a work that's deliberately designed to be a trap, and the first mistake would be to try absolutely hard to determine whether Goodbye Eri is true or false. 

Trying to detect the true and the false is futile, not that it's really impossible, but arguments could be several pages long and the theories put forward would remain mere hypotheses because no explicit confirmation is given. Quite simply because this is not the aim of the work, nor a satisfactory way of reading it. 

For example, when Yuta's father seems to be getting angry with Eri, we understand from Eri's "And Cut!!!" that it was all a set-up. So, as a good reader, we can only assume that what follows is pure reality. However, the father, now an actor, if he should play his line differently.

As another illustration, when Eri is close to death and Yuta are talking, there are a few hints that they might have a relationship, but this is denied by Yuta himself, in a discussion with Eri's friend. 

The film plays with this to such an extent that all sorts of theories are possible. It could just as easily be interpreted as there being only two films (on Yuta's mother and then on Eri's death), two films but in different ways: one about Yuta's mother and a second film about Eri, as a vampire, with the end scene played by Yuta's father and by Eri before her death.

This explains why, even after Eri's death, Yuta continues to film because the film isn't actually finished yet, the editing being there to reverse the scenes played chronologically, to make it look as if Eri was still alive, and so on. ..

As you can see, it all makes sense, and our preference is purely personal because they all work. But I'm not going to play that game, because it only shows me one thing, and that's that the plot surrounding Eri is deliberately obscure. 

I've seen a lot of people describe Goodbye Eri as a work about dealing with death - the way we want to remember those we've lost, etc... It's about mourning, symbolically saying goodbye, hence the title. Which is true! But it goes further than that.

Eri's plot is deliberately obscure because the right way to appropriate the work is not through her. She's the character we know least about. Physically alone, we learn that she wore glasses and braces. Mentally, she was more annoying than she seemed in the movie. Eri is a mirage in which we won't find answers, so we have to learn to say goodbye.

The only reliable information given in this OS is that everything is filmed by Yuta's phone. And in reality, you know Yuta better than Eri, so it's him you should turn to...

Hi Yuta!

Yuta is almost never shown in this OS, as he is always filming. And when he is shown accurately, it's when he's inspired by other films by watching them with Eri, in other words, he's continuing to work on his own film by watching others. 

Yuta's first film began as a result of his mother's narcissistic desire, as he was celebrating his birthday, discovering his gift, a smartphone, all of which was directly taken over by his mother, who asked him to film her until she died.

By keeping only the good sides of his mother, ignoring all the abusive parts of her, Yuta does not follow his parent's wishes, he does it for himself, showing what he himself wants to retain from his childhood, his story, in order to move forward properly.

But as everything is filmed, it gives the impression that the videos have been passively lined up without any sorting, without any choice. Yuta takes his revenge because he refuses to film his mother until the day she dies, stopping before then, preferring an explosion to conclude his film. It's brutal because it's as if Yuta's tastes, his little touch of fantasy, are suddenly surfacing, while the rest of the film is just as personal, just as him. So when his film is mocked, it's a work so personal that Yuta wants to die. 

It's not insignificant that it's Eri who intervenes, whose only certainty was that she loved not only the films but also Yuta's, simply because she saw not only Yuta's mother in this film but also him, whom she considered to be the best character. She wasn't revolted by the ending, because she was aware of Yuta's touch throughout the film. The same ambiguity then resurfaces, we don't know if Eri is in love with Yuta, she corrects him to say that it's these films, the two are so linked, that liking Yuta's films is tantamount to liking the teenager. 

Yuta follows Eri's desire to produce a film that is above all personal to him, to the point that when Eri sees her last moments narrated by him, she sees Yuta more than herself, because she is seen through someone else's eyes. 

For me, there aren't two or three films, but just one from start to finish. Because you see, we've said goodbye to Eri, we've got out of her tricky story to reflect on Yuta, but we still haven't stepped back enough. Because you know who made the film, and it's not Yuta, it's Fujimoto. So, third stage :

let's salute Fujimoto. 

The film we've just seen in this OS deals with a number of overlapping themes, the way in which a loved one is portrayed, the relationship with others, death, creation, but above all, the extent to which a work is personal. Goodbye Eri is a pretext for Fujimoto to show us the extent to which even the cutting is the fruit of reflection, is already a message.

In this OS, all the boxes are in the video format of a smartphone, each moving, static shot depends on Yuta, just as each shot is in the third row, drawn by someone.

People make the mistake, like the first audience of Yuta's film about his mother, of relating to works as linear stories to be trusted, even if they film his mother every day, Yuta's editing is his way of counting a story, it is certainly not the truth in all its neutrality. It's only at the moment of the explosion, which expresses the most of Yuta's personality, that people get upset.

This offbeat, absurd explosion is something that Fujimoto punctuates in his works, yet they are both thought out and personal to him. But they are often mocked as a way of poking fun at his work. What Fujimoto is saying is that the work doesn't become brutally personal for the controversial, offbeat moments, just the way he depicts a scene from life is personal. 

People believed this version of the author's mother, otherwise they wouldn't be outraged by this disgraceful way of portraying this nice woman at the end, so in itself, Yuta's film worked. But all this is just a pretext for Fujimoto to point out that he is the author of all his other works, CSM, Fire Punch, Look Back, Just Listen to the Song... They are just like another film made in response to the positive or negative reactions of the others.

Fujimoto likes to trace the common ground between these works, which respond to each other. Each one, placed side by side, is an attempt by Fujimoto to upset his audience a little more, a second or third try.

The mistake is to separate the author's touch from his work, just as we are tempted to focus more on Eri than Yuta. Just as Fujimoto reminds us through this OS, who writes, draws Goodbye Eri. The first part of CSM was turned upside down by the fact that Makima was a demon from the start, abusive to the point of being the antagonist.

A violent and abusive maternal relationship. The design of the mother is also a bit similar. Mentions of the breasts, something that also went down quite a bit and left its mark on a lot of readers because it was so out of sync. The emphasis on cats... A rejected boy. A work focused on female characters.

Goodbye Eri is a work in which Fujimoto makes fun of himself, his works and the things that bring them together. Yes, there will be an explosion if the author so decides. Yes, Eri can live again, be a vampire, if the author so decides, but what's to stop him making his characters die, and then bringing them back to life a few pages later? 

The characters' plots are the authors' playgrounds, whether you like it or not. You can't detach works from their authors, or read works as unrelated things because they were written by the same person. Talking about death, life, mourning, love, with a touch of fantasy is what Fujimoto does in each of them. 

So if you're lost, remember that what you're reading isn't in the title but in the author. 

[mudandmire]

WIP - ✨Azris time loop au✨

In the first war against Hybern, Eris watches Azriel die to the kings blade. He's young, inexperienced though he'll never admit it, and grasping as he leaves the battlefield. He carries with him the only thing he took from the desecrated grounds: Azriel's dagger, Truth-Teller.

It's only when the same day starts again, Eris realizes something's gone terribly wrong.

~A (very long) one-shot~

"The courtyard's breath is stolen away. Every small sound of Azriel's body fighting for his next breath is absent. A void sits between him and Azriel and he is left in utter silence. Crushing, horrible silence. No longer can he ignore the persistent ache of his own wounds, his own pained breathing. Eris tumbles to the side, off his scraped knees, and stifles a cry when his raw hands land on the rough gravel."

guess who's having fun torturing Eris? 😎

mE. I am ehehe. I've already written 10k for it, not in chronological order or anything, but still. I have no idea when this will be posted, all I know is that I wanted to share because I LOVE time-loop au's. So I'm literally having the time of my life fully realizing the joy of time-loop au's and azris - best of both worlds I'm having the time of my life.

*ahem* also if anyone has azris time-loop fic recs, or literally anything time-loop with azriel or eris please send 👉👈 I'm desperate I can't find any :(

[imaginesmai]

Feelings I cannot express - Eris Vanserra

Wow, look at that! Me, avoiding responsabilities and writing another Eris fic for which I have no time! What a surprise! Enjoy this LONG LONG PIECE that has consumed my time lately. Shout-out to @glitterypirateduck who is too in her Eris' era.

Plot: Five times Eris didn’t know how to express his feelings, and one time he did

Warnings: descriptions of violence and blood. Mean Eris when he doesn't know how to express his feelings. Troubled, traumatized boi.

1

His steps were wobbly, and he had already stopped three times to catch his breath. Each time, the ground seemed closer, more tempting. Eris always cared about the impression people had of him, and in his court, he polished it like nowhere.

The strong, cruel prince that matched his father’s temper. Someone who they wouldn’t mess with, someone who would reign one day when Beron was gone. Only the silent corridors were the witness of that other part of him, the real one, that was leaving bloodied prints on the walls.

Beron had raised his hand against his mother, like many other times. He had crossed her beautiful and soft face with a hard slap, just because she dared to share her opinion on a political matter. And Eris had unconsciously let his power flare. Just an ember, a spark in his middle finger.

His father had seen, and had deemed right to remind him where was his position in his court. Lashes had ripped his back into shreds, blood trailing down his arms and legs. He had finished two hours before dawn, but Eris hadn’t been able to move until the night was already started. That way, he made sure no one saw his vulnerable form.

Eris closed the doors of his room as soon as he was inside, and stumbled into his bed. Falling face first, he closed his eyes and willed his conscious to leave him. No one heard his prayers, and he was still wide awake when his door opened again.

He would have been startled, alert or even afraid, but your scent sneaked in before you entered. Eris groaned in acknowledgement, and he knew any warnings or threats were useless against you. You already knew the dangers of your actions, the consequences of being involved with him. And yet, you were always there.

“Can you take off your clothes?” you broke the sinister silence of the room with quiet steps. “I’ll run you a bath”

“Where’s my brother?”

“Asleep” you answered, brushing your soft knuckles against his locks. “Don’t worry about it”

Flynn, the younger Vanserra brother, had tight sleep schedules, so part of his worry faded away. It wouldn’t do him any good if someone found his younger brother’s betrothed in a light sleeping gown.

Eris heard you filling the bath with water, and tried not to let the guilt worry. The first time you had helped him, he had threatened to burn you alive, and gone as far as give you a nasty burn scar on your left forearm. You hadn’t left, and he hadn’t thanked you. While you two ignored each other in the court ministrations, it was your secret routine – you, a stranger promised to a monster, helping him among his dearest family and friends.

Not once in his life he had let someone so close to his torment, to his vulnerability – to his body. People assumed he had tons of lovers, but he couldn’t stomach the thought of someone touching him. With you, he had discovered in the last years, it was different.

Your hand on his shoulder startled him back to reality, and he finally looked at you. There were dark bags under your eyes, a determinated look fixed on him.

“It’s ready” you tilted your head slightly. “Can you get up on your own?”

“Of course. Get away” he scoffed, but didn’t argue when you stabilized him by his elbow when he rose. “I don’t need your help. You’re more a liability than a support”

“I know you can do it, Eris” you didn’t even blink at his mean words, nor reacted when he tried to push you away. “Maybe we should take your tunic off before – “

“Get off me!”

Eris didn’t measure his strength when he pushed you off, just desperate to shake the feeling of kind hands that he didn’t deserve. That would never be his.

You stumbled back and got your feet tangled between the carpet, which caused you to fall on your butt. He physically flinched when your hands broke your fall, when he saw you suck a breath in pain. But he wouldn’t apologize, he never did. If being the worst person alive meant you would live, if hurting you meant no one would do it, then he could carry the guilt and self-hate just fine.

From the ground, he felt your eyes on him as he striped his clothes. They fell to the ground, his tunic nothing but ripped shreds of cloth. His vest wasn’t much better, or his shirt. Only his pants had been saved from the bloodbath. Eris made a point by not looking at you while he undressed, leaving his briefs on.

He didn’t need to look into a mirror to know that the way your body tensed from the corner of his eye wasn’t an exaggeration. Every fiber of his body screamed at him when he walked towards the bathroom, when he heard you get up in a rush and follow him.

The fact that you didn’t demand an apology or got angry at him rubbed all the wrong spots.

“Let me warm the water”

“I can do it myself, little fox”

Still, your hand sneaked and you dipped it into the water, and within seconds steam started to fill the bathroom. Eris stared at that particular spot between your shoulder and neck, where he wished he could thank you with a soft kiss. Wrap his arms around your waist and pull you into the bath with him. Be the person you would lay with that night.

“Do you want me to help you in?”

“What I want you to do is to leave” he answered as the temperature of the room rose. “I want you to lay with your future husband and forget about me”

“I can’t do that, Eris” you casted him a glance. “I can help you in though”

His anger rose back up and he didn’t say anything when you straightened back up. Your fire magic was only a spark of his own, only useful for warming water or lighting a chimney. That you had to use yours because he was too spent was a disgrace upon himself.

Eris made a point to leave his back to you inside the tub, letting the warm water wash the blood away. He pushed his head between his arms and ignored your presence. Ignored your warm hands as they brushed the wounds so they wouldn’t get infected. Ignored your quiet movements as you left healing and numbing creams on the counter. Tried to ignore you when you massaged his shoulders and scalp, cleaning his hair like his mother used to do.

Eventually, you decided to leave him alone in his rooms. After helping him get up from the bathtub and into the bed. Tucking him in like a stubborn child, turning off the candles. Only when your hand brushed his hair one last time, he noticed the new addition to your beautiful wrist.

He gripped it before you could hide it, and for the first time in the whole night, you flinched. Not because his touch was rough, since he held it like expensive glass. Not because you were afraid, because with him, you never were.

“This is new” he whispered in the dark room, staring at the bruises along your delicate skin. “What happened?”

“He just got a little handsy. Flynn…” you doubted before you sighed, sitting on his bed. “Your father has been pushing him more and more about the weeding. He left this morning with him to hunt in the forest, so I can only guess they talked about it. So he got drunk. And I was late for dinner, because he hadn’t informed me it would be early tonight”

“Anywhere else?” he asked, and eyed you with enough intensity to warn you against lying.

“I’m fine”

You had been raised for that, Eris guessed, and that was normal for you. Being sold to the best buyer for your hand, endure a shitty betrothed until you were to marry and he could ignore you properly. Eris didn’t dare to think about how things would be if your position allowed him to marry you. If his father saw you worthy of his first-born.

But you were stuck with Flynn Vanserra, a man uncapable of love and caring. A man who did worse things than a bruised wrist.

“Be careful” he allowed himself to say, just because it was dark, and you couldn’t see the real concern and fear of someone finding out about your behavior in his room. “Don’t let anyone see you leave my rooms. And don’t come back. I don’t need you”

“Good night, Eris” you rose from bed, and Eris missed the warmth of your wrist against his fingers. “Don’t forget the creams”

With silent steps, you left his room, and Eris spent the night awake wondering of you could see right past his lies, past his fake cruelty and indifference towards you. If you could see how much he cared about his brother’s betrothed.

2

It wasn’t too often that the palace opened its door for lesser fae. On special occasions, his father allowed them to attend to the main hall and see what they were missing because of their condition. Beron took out the elegant clothes, the expensive wine and bright plates. And then, he didn’t let them use any of that and had them watch from the corner the superiority of his family.

Eris didn’t particularly care about those events, but he had been forced to attend to that one – since it was his own birthday. He didn’t celebrate his birthday, he didn’t get presents. Not when years of monotony rolled by and nothing changed. His mother had been the only one wishing him happy birthday that morning, kissing the side of his head quickly and reminding him to be nice.

To stand by and endure his father’s show of power at his expense. All his brothers were there too, and not too far from Flynn, you too.

You were wearing an orange dress that emulated autumns leaves. Each time you moved, lights reflected yellow and brown sparks that had the lesser fae turning their heads around. Eris too couldn’t keep his eyes away from your form for too long, with the risk of being caught.

Flynn seemed to be least affected by your looks, or your presence. While you were required to stay by his side and be faithful, he dragged you through countless humiliation. Talking and flirting with other women when you were standing a few feet away, ignoring your attempts to start conversations, leaving you while you greeted a friend.

Eri’s nails were imprinted on his palms from how hard he closed his fists each time it happened. He had almost set fire to a curtain when he had been close enough to watch your crestfallen expression.

To avoid anyone noticing him staring at you like a hawk or turning his brother into ashes, he busied himself with pointless talks and stupid politics. He endured it for three long hours, and then he granted himself a rest excusing himself for the bathroom.

He knew you had been following him since he left the ballroom, but didn’t acknowledge you until you were far from the crowd. Eris walked through the hallways and across the backyard, and stopped only when he reached the stables. Then, he turned around and his heart skipped a beat at your sight.

Your beautiful hair had been let down, and you were wearing a crown of golden leaves. Everything in your attire claimed you were their possession, but you weren’t his to look at, to enjoy. So he raised a brow and waited for you to talk.

“You’re hard to catch” you started. “Someone might think you’re running away from me”

“Maybe I’m running away from your annoying presence”

You scoffed and he hated and loved that you didn’t seem affected by his words. There was no truth behind it, just the urge of hearing your voice in your reply.

“I want to wish you happy birthday” you confessed, and even your voice was sweeter that night. “Haven’t seen you in all day”

“I’ve been busy” he lied.

Shamefully, he had waited for your visit for hours. Last year you had been the first one to wish him happy birthday, and he had remembered for the whole year the feeling of your lips against his cheek. It had been a friendly kiss, although it had been the only time he had seen you blush. And during the hard days, he held onto that memory like a lifesaver.

You hummed and tucked your hands in front of you. Eris tried not to notice the silver ring that claimed you as his brother’s possession, the distinction from other women. You never wore it, but you had to in events like that one.

In the silence that followed his lie, Eris’ whole body relaxed. His shoulders dropped, his fist untightened and his jaw unclenched. His nostrils flared slightly as he took in your scent, and finally, the corners of his mouth lifted slightly.

“Happy birthday, Eris” you finally said, and smiled brightly at him. “Do you want to open your present?”

“Present?” he blinked surprised, the question catching him off guard. “You got me a present?”

“Birthdays are supposed to be filled with presents. Extravagant parties are good too, but I think everyone should get a present” you explained. “I tried to keep yours in an envelope, but someone found it before you. And I couldn’t help it. Do you want to see it?”

Eris nodded dumbly. You could offer him a crumb of your lunch and he would gladly treasure it for the rest of his life. Just like he was doing with all your moments together, before you were cruelly snagged into his brother’s arms eventually.

He followed you through the stables, wondering what you could give him. He didn’t remember the last time someone got him a present, a pleasant one. Anything you could give him would be perfect, so he wasn’t worried about liking it or not. He was worried about cracking down and smudging that beautiful lipstick with his own lips.

Like second nature, you walked him towards the pit where he kept his hounds locked. They slept together and were Eris pride and joy, the first and only gift he got from his father. As you unlocked the door, Eris stuffed his hands in his pocket awkwardly. Then, he looked inside.

And broke into a loud, deep chuckle that rattled his bones.

Eris laughed and laughed until he took his hands out of his pockets and had to press them into his stomach, bending over. When he opened his eyes and tried to regain his posture, he lost it over and over again.

“I take it you like it” you chuckled with him.

He missed the way your eyes shone at his laugh, the way you bounced off your feet at his happiness. It had been the only real smile on your lips that night, and it rivaled any of the elegant lamps in the ballroom.

His hounds, the terrifying big dogs that haunted prisoners when they got out of his dungeons and tracked down traitors, had each one fox knitted hats. Who had ripped fae apart with their sharp teeth and devoured limbs like butter. They all stared at you with oblivious calm and a fox hat.

“They look – they look so ridiculous” Eris managed to say between laughs, and pointed at Maximus, who had its head titled and one of the ears had bent down. “And so happy! How did you put them on? This is the best present I could ask for”

“Oh, they didn’t put much of a fight when I sneaked some treats” you shrugged, and Eris broke into another laugh. “Besides, they like me too much not to let me do it”

“You’re a devious creature, little fox” he scoffed, and finally looked at you. “You are – “

Whatever he was about to say died when he caught the glimpse of the moon light hitting your ring. The ring that reminded him that you may have given him a birthday present, but everything else belonged to Flynn. He caught the words he was about to say and stuffed them down his chest. He forced himself to look away from your expectant expression, and swallow the guilt.

You would never be happy with him, but neither would you be with Flynn. Your fate in that court was sealed, yet you would keep your life with the youngest Vanserra.

“Thank you for the present, Y/N” he managed to say, not daring to look back at his hounds.

“You’re welcome, Eris” you copied his formal, clipped tone in a mocking way, noticing the change of the atmosphere but not caring about it. “Maybe next time I could knit you one for yourself”

“I’m afraid I look nothing like a fox. More like a snake perhaps”

“And I’m afraid you’re too hard on yourself, but we aren’t considering our deliriums”

Eris opened his mouth to argue, but he felt them coming before you did. A couple, probably drunk and lesser fae, had snuck into the gardens. And they probably wouldn’t recognize you, wouldn’t report to his father about your reunion. But Eris couldn’t risk your safety, not when you were the only thing that made him be glad of being alive for another year.

He caught your arm in a tight grip and your eyes widened before listening to their steps. You didn’t have to look to know the couple was staring. In your eyes, Eris could see his own fear of having those short and meaningless meetings cut short because of a snitch. He hated that you weren’t afraid of his tight grip or the fire in his eyes, but because of the retaliations if you were discovered.

One of his hounds poked a lazy head to see what the silence was about, but saw no threat and turned away. And to ensure it wouldn’t turn into a threat, Eris put on his heir-mask, the hatred and cruel prince everyone expected him to be, and snarled with fire under his tongue the venom he knew you didn’t believe.

“And if I ever see you snooping again, I’ll have your head on a pike in your weeding chambers. Tell my dear brother to shorten the leash of his belongings” he pressed on. He caught on the couple’s sniff of fear and respect, but also your own hurt. Hurt at the words he was blading for your protection, he told himself, that were necessary. “Leave before I change my mind”

With a final hard push, he threw you a few feet away from him. You looked down and scrambled away from him, and the couple left too. Eris was left alone with his foxed-hounds, and the horrid realization that hurting you was the only way of keeping you safe.

3

Eris paced the length of your room for what felt like forever. He had already noticed every detail you kept in your room that made it so you, had fought with the inadequate feeling of invading your personal space. He had had time enough to consider if he was going insane and paranoid, but it was late and you weren’t there.

You always retreated to your rooms early in the night. Sometimes, he knew because he accompanied you when his brother was too drunk to remember your presence. Other times, he knew because you sneaked into his dorms right before night set. You were supposed to be there with him, teasing him for not being able to look away from the lingerie that lay forgotten in your armchair.

But you weren’t, and Eris was pacing.

That morning, as you all had lunch as a family, his mother had asked an inadequate but innocent answer. It was only logical that after almost five years of courting you started talking about the actual weeding, but you weren’t. Because his brother was too much of a dick to entertain it until he had enjoyed his youth to the fullest, and because you sneaked glances at him when no one was looking.

You had given her a simple answer – love matters took time, and better be safe than sorry. While everyone agreed quietly, Eris had noticed the way Flynn’s face darkened. As if the idea of you answering a question directed to both of you was inadequate.

Eris had left the dining room with an uneasy feeling, and had kept it in his stomach all day. When you hadn’t appeared during dinner time nor had his brother, he had decided to search for you.

You weren’t in the stables, where you spent most of your time between horses and his hounds. You weren’t in the kitchen, where you snuck off when Flynn got too much to handle. And you weren’t anywhere he looked, so he had decided to let the worry get the best out of him and wait for you in your rooms.

As if the thought of you had summoned you, the doors opened and Eris turned around in a frenzy.

“Thank the cauldron” he scoffed, already replacing the worry with anger. “Where the fuck have you been all day? Do I really have to wait here if I want to…”

“I’m sorry” you apologized, your voice void of any fire or charm.

He tried to make himself argue with you further, to explain his presence in your room with a stupid excuse and not let you know he had been worried. There was no blood or visible wounds on you, not new bruises or burns he can explain his sudden lack of words with.

But he could see something there, that made his blood boil and his heart beat furiously against his chest. You walked past him in silence and removed your heels next to your wardrobe. Without saying anything or acknowledging his presence, you peeled the eiderdown off and climbed inside the bed.

Only then he watched your shoulders tight as you tried to keep the cries to yourself. Eris walked on autopilot to the edge of your bed, and watched in silent horror as tears fell down your face. You were squeezing your eyes shut, probably wanting to be left alone, but he found himself sitting on the edge of the bed. Just like you had done so many times.

It was so different from what he knew, what you did with him, that he didn’t know what to do. Hesitantly, he caressed your shoulder and you whined, your body turning around so you could face him.

“What happened?” he asked, his hand trembling with the effort of staying on your shoulder and not brushing the tears away.

“He locked me in a basement, because he said he was tired of seeing me everywhere and hearing me all the time” you admitted, curling your body around his. “There was no light. And I was fine, but he didn’t come back and I called. And no one answered and – “

Your explanation died with the first sob, and many followed. Eris knew what basement you were talking about. His father had locked him and his brothers many times in the past. Big enough to allow a standing person, but not to let them sit. Tight enough so a part of your body was always touching the wall, and dark enough to rob your breath.

Eris willed the words stuck on his throat to leave him. He wanted to lay down beside you and comfort you like he should. He wanted to break every last of his brother’s bones, and then some more.

“I was so scared” you admitted quietly, finally opening your eyes to look at him. “I thought – I thought I’d been forgotten”

“How did you get out?”

“Beron heard me”

He didn’t need to ask for further details, just tried to keep eye contact as your beautiful eyes were constantly drowning in tears and sorrow. His father was as cruel as Flynn, but until you were officially married, he still had to ensure your safety for your family’s sake.

You cried against his side and eventually your body gravitated to his lap. His free hand carefully brushed yours, and you held it so tight and hard that Eris choked his own cry. How many times he had felt alone in his own home? Forgotten in that same basement while Beron went hunting, or partying?

The thought of you locked in those four walls turned his stomach up. You, with your easy smile and your kind words. Full of kindness and love that no one in that court deserved, certainly not him.

Still, Eris held his ground sitting on your bed. He lighted some candles and sealed the room with a glamour against sound and strangers. The rational part of his brain told him to leave before someone came looking for him, the irrational part to do worse things. But he stayed on your bed, stroking his thumb across the back of your hand and brushing his fingers against the nape of your neck.

As you cried, Eris begged himself to do something with the words that resonated in his heart.

“You’re not forgotten, I could never forget you. I won’t”

“He could try and hide you in the last corner of the universe and I would still crawl my way to you, my little fox”

His mouth was kept shut and his fingers continued his ministration, until your breath slowed and your sobs disappeared. Then, when you were about to fall asleep with his hand in yours, you opened your eyes one last time and gave him a small smile. Maybe he hadn’t said anything, but he was starting to suspect you could read his mind and heart.

“I’m glad you came for me” you confessed quietly. “Thank you”

He should have said that he didn’t accept your gratefulness, that he wasn’t worthy of them. Instead, he smiled back and stared at you while you fell asleep. With his heart roaring just a big wilder.

4

His court was under attack.

Eris had come to that realization a month ago, when a missive from Hybern had reached their borders with a threat of dead and destruction. In that moment, he had thought it had been a minor attack. A political attack, a threat with little importance in a world where everybody hated his court.

But then, his father had dismissed the king demands and patrols started to go missing. Parts of those patrols came back, traumatized soldiers that died in a few days but that had enough time to scream horrors. More soldiers were sent into the forest, and more soldiers died.

For a month, Hybern had debilitated them in their own home until most of the army was unavailable. And now, his home was under attack.

The top part of the palace was on fire, people ran desperately through the corridors and soldiers from both sides fought in the backyard. Eris was sure Beron would be able to win that battle, maybe the war. Yet what worried him was that Beron didn’t particularly care about causalities, and there were many that had Eris’ heart in a knot.

He had managed to take his mother to safety, to a hidden room where women and children waited. He expected to see you there too, but instead, had found a hiding Flynn that didn’t answer his questions.

Eris had left his brother in the middle of a hallway with a shutten eye and two broken legs that wouldn’t let him get away from the soldiers. He hoped he would get killed so Eris wouldn’t be the one to carry the task.

As he ran through the castle against the waves of running people, the fire on his veins roared louder. What would he do, if he came upon the worst scenario? Would he crash his home down? It had been eight months since his birthday, and he had come to the realization he feared the most. That those times he seemed to spot you among a crowd, when his soul sang for you, where for a reason.

He hadn’t found the courage to tell you yet about the golden string he tugged at sometimes, hoping you would turn around and confirm his suspicions.

If he lost his mate today because of his brother’s cowardice, because of a war his father had started out of greed, Eris wasn’t sure the world would be a safe place for anyone anymore.

Asking the running members of his court would be useless, as it would be worrying about them seeing his panic-stricken expression. Eris focused on running and following his instinct, until it led him to the stables. The place where you had shared so many memories that was now a bloodbath.

Soldiers were lying on the ground, dead and unconscious, some of them begging for his help as he stepped over their bodies. The heart of the battle was close enough he could hear and smell death looming, but all of that died down when he finally saw you.

“Eris!” you cried out his name, and what was left of his heart clenched at the broken sound. “Eris I –“

Your cries were muffled by a rough hand over your mouth, of a soldier that hadn’t seen him yet. You were being dragged towards a carriage, your limbs flying around as you tried to get free from the enemies’ grip. Eris would have time to thank fate for allowing him to reach you on time, before you were taken away from him permanently.

Fire licked the carriage’s front, not letting their occupancies leave untouched. It consumed the vehicle in a matter of seconds, burning so powerful and tight that Eris felt light headed for a second. His power felt like a bottomless pit where he could dive without consequences, so he did just that.

Unleashing his short swords, he used both hands to clean his path towards you. The soldiers realized shortly after that their scape root was compromised, but too late that who had compromised it was the crown’s heir.

They didn’t stand a chance against his rage, his power. They fell to the ground like flies while all Eris saw was red. Red seeping through your wounds into the ground, staining your dress. Red pooling the earth beneath his feet as every last soldier fell to their death. Red of his power, that consumed every threat against his mate.

Once he was done, he crashed to his knees in front of you, and the fire died all together when your arms locked around his neck. He didn’t contemplate what it would look like when he pushed you farther into his embrace, listening to your heartbeat like a lullaby.

“You shouldn’t be outside” Eris whispered against your hair, the remains of his anger seeping through them. “If you were smart, you would have stayed inside. Dumb woman. What were you thinking?”

“I wanted to find you”

Your admission didn’t catch him off guard. You sounded so sincere, so relieved, that he only got angrier. Why was fate so cruel to bond him with such a kind soul? Of course, of every reason you could have gone outside, you would have chosen him.

“I didn’t know if you were okay” you continued, lifting your face from his chest to look at him. “What if you had been hurt?”

“And what would you do, hm?” Eris almost cut you off, suddenly repulsed by your touch.

That he had let you get so close to put yourself in danger was a mistake. It had been a mistake the first time he looked at you long enough to discover how bright your smile was. A mistake each time he had allowed you in his room to tend his wounds, every conversation you two had in secret.

There was no answer to his questions, and you knew it. Eris got up and didn’t offer you a hand, instead turning his face away from you. Closing his eyes tightly, he tried to ignore the endless thoughts about what could have happen. The things he should have done better, because none of that mattered now.

Eris tried to ignore you when you finally got up and grabbed his hand. Your hand caressed his fingers, his hands, his arms. You caressed his skin as if he hadn’t just slaughtered ten strong, healthy soldiers with families.

“I somehow do irrational things when it comes to you” you spoke quietly, wrapping your hands around his elbow. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get in trouble. But the thought of you being hurt… I’m sorry”

“Let’s get you to safety” he grumbled, not acknowledging your apology.

He imagined what it would feel like to have you hanging from his arm in different circumstances, maybe in another world. Briefly, he indulged himself and slowed his steps so he could soak into it. There were bodies and blood, sounds of battle and death cries, but none of them seemed to matter as you walked down the hallways to the hidden room.

The battle was already dying down, but it wouldn’t be safe until nighttime. Eris would make sure every last enemy was death before letting you set a foot outside the safe room. He vowed himself to distance himself enough to never repeat that moment, and to protect you with whatever it took him. Indifference, cruelty. Whatever put you to safety.

What he couldn’t control was a last moment of vulnerability. He stopped right before the discrete doors where his mother and the rest of women and children waited. Turning to face you, his heart got the best of him and raised his arm without his consent.

“Be safe” you begged him. “Please. I don’t want to lose you”

“I will, little fox”

Eris tucked a strand of your hair, sticky with blood behind your ear. He watched like a hawk the cherry blush that painted your cheeks, the contained smile that you hid horribly. Instead of retreating, he let curious fingers explore the curve of your cheekbone. Your jawline, your chin. The curve of your nose and your lips.

His traitor fingers stopped at your bottom lip, tugging it down. It should have bothered him that those lips were meant for his brother, that they had already tasted him when his brother had gotten too handsy. But it didn’t, because they looked so kissable that he thought he had imagined it when you leaned forward.

When your eyes fluttered closed and his body gravitated too, he thought he imagined. The distance became shorter and everything became white noise. Eris had dreamed so long about it that he thought he was dreaming.

But not even his dreams were so livid, so real. He blinked one last time before crashing into your lips with a straining force. You tasted like blood from your open lip, and like clouds and sky and perfection. There were teeth and tongue and he couldn’t control himself more than the kiss.

Shockingly, he was the one pushed against the opposite door, your much smaller body trapping him as you grabbed him by the shoulders. He stole every breath and whine that left your mouth with kissing. For those few seconds, he let himself explore each inch of your mouth like it was the last minute of his life.

It might had been, if someone saw you with him and told Beron. His father thought had him pushing you away, so hard you stumbled down.

“Get inside” Eris demanded you, gripping your elbow harshly. You blinked with those swollen lips and rosy cheeks, and he clenched his jaw.

“Eris…”

“Don’t come out, not until I come back. Be fucking smart for once in your life” he opened the door and dozens of women stared at you two.

Something in his chest stilled when your eyes widened and that bond became alive. When he was certain that you felt the same tug he had been feeling for a long time, that he had lost sleep over. It dawned to him that nothing would be the same after that day, whether the attack finished or not. Whether his father found out or those women kept silent.

So, for the first time in his life, Eris let himself accept those hidden feelings and kissed you one last time. Slow, deep, in front of his mother who covered her mouth with a surprised gasp. He dragged his lips between yours, only for a second.

When he tore away, Eris was sure he would die happy if that face was the last thing he saw.

“Don’t leave the room until I come back, my little fox. Only me”

Eris didn’t let you answer. He turned around and closed the doors behind him, running down the hallways. Looking for the enemy, for his brother whose betrothed had just kissed, for his father who could kill you both. And away from where his heart was safe with you.

5

Not even a week of mourning was stablished for the deaths at the Hybern attack. Not even a week for the thousands of soldiers who had died defending his home.

Eris had made sure that every family got their loved ones’ bodies back, and that there was enough wood to light up fires for them. He mourned more for them than for his own family, who had suffered an immense hit.

Flynn Vanserra had been found ravished in a forgotten hallway, his body mangled beyond recognition. People whispered that he had found an end according to his life – cruel, mean, without mercy. Eris stared at his brother’s corpse and curled his lip, because before his death, not a scar marked his body. While he had usen yours like a blank canvas.

Beron Vanserra had died too, and that had rattled Eris’ world.

His father had been the main objective, and after he had fallen from the upper tower, the enemy had retreated. Beron was dead before he hit the ground, courtesy of a dozen poisoned arrows on his chest. Eris had watched his body burn in silence contemplation, thinking about how many times his father had raised his fire against him.

Now, it was Eris who light up his father’s tomb fire.

Days brushed quickly but there was one thing that had him grounded – you. Eris Vanserra was officially a High Lord, so no one argued when you appeared by his arm on Beron’s funeral. When you moved your things to the room besides him.

His people whispered about the caring brother who had taken upon the charge of his betrothed so she wouldn’t be discarded. And about the cruel king who had killed his own brother to wed a nameless girl. Eris didn’t acknowledge any of those comments.

He just kept you close as loyalties were stablished, letting everyone know that you were off limits. For touching, for hurting, for insulting. One noble was brave enough to question your place in the palace with Flynn death, and one noble lost his tongue the next morning.

As everything settled down, Eris found himself taking walks with you through the forest, something his brother had never bothered to do. You hung from his arm gracefully, new and expensive dresses on your wardrobe, and a radiant smile on your face.

“Will you teach me how to ride?” you asked him one sunny afternoon. “So I can ride hunting with you”

“I will get you your own horse if that’s what my mate wants” he let the title sweeten his mouth, warm his heart. “I will get you whatever your heart desire, my little fox”

“Maybe I’ll turn into a spoiled princess then. And you will find your ruin at my expensive demands” you chuckled, shifting closer to him.

You could ask him for a court and he would fight to death with anyone to grant you your own court. You could ask him for his court and he would get on his knees and offer it to you without another word. Those words were meaningless, because you rarely asked him for anything. Even when you had changed rooms, you had been happy with just a bed and a blanket.

“I’m happy with being here, close to you. I don’t need anything else”

The more time he spent with you, the more he marveled at your selflessness. You had been helping those with injuries from the fight, talking with the families who were grieving. By nighttime, you returned to your chambers where Eris was waiting for you, having abandoned his own for yours. You two laid in bed looking at each other until you fell asleep.

Then, Eris spent hours staring at you, letting his heart soak into the comfort.

“You are quiet today” you commented, breaking him from his thoughts. “Court problems?”

Eris always had court problems. The change was coming slowly but surely, and his father’s loyal friends weren’t happy with that. But it wasn’t their enmity that had him deep in thought. The last rays of sun warmed your face as he looked at you with a small smile.

Talking about his feelings was his weakness. He had been mean, cruel and downright villainous to you for years because he couldn’t open his heart to you. He couldn’t endure the thought of you hurting because of his stupid feelings.

But he wanted things to change. He wanted you to be happy and safe, and if he had to share his thoughts and swallow his insecurities, he would.

“I was wondering” he admitted eventually, a little unsure. “We are mate. But… do you think, we would have found each other? If we weren’t?”

You looked surprised at his questions. You hadn’t talked about the bond, just accepted it. When Eris had found you after the battle, you had hugged him tight and kissed him once more. You hadn’t talked about it, and yet, you both were comfortable with it.

After the initial surprise, you gifted him a soft smile, and your eyes crinkled against the sun.

“I would have found you either way, Eris. You had me since I set a foot in this court” you answered him. “I used to worry that there was something wrong with me, because I couldn’t feel anything for Flynn. Not love, not hate. Nothing. Whatever he did was fine because it was the price I paid to stay close to you. And it was worthy”

“Don’t say that, Y/N”

“I can’t, that’s what I feel. And I’m not afraid to tell you that I’ve loved you for a long time, my darling. Long before I knew we were mates and through all we’ve been through. I’m sure I would have loved you even if we weren’t mates”

Eris wondered if he would ever be able to speak so freely about his thoughts. He couldn’t still voice out what he felt for you. How he would turn the world around if you asked him to, how your love was enough to keep him alive forever. For now, though, Eris smiled and leaned down to press a sweet kiss against your nose, earning a soft giggle.

He would tell you all of that someday, show you his feelings when his words were stuck. Eris Vanserra owned you that much.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

[ma-e-by]

[stormhearty]

✨ pairings: Eris x Reader x Azriel (ft. Cassian)

🔮 preview: Everything about the three of you was very opposite — you were a pastel princess, while the two were dark macabre. And yet the three of you melded together like a melting pot. Eris and Azriel adore their little princess — and would do anything to make you happy — whether it be distracting you from the voices in your head to killing a boy who looked at you a little too long.

📣 trigger warnings: mentions of blood and killing, Azriel and Eris being overly touchy with our reader, short skirts, corsets, mentions of sex (kind of explicit), pet names: my morose, my darling, sweet angel, temptation (Azriel and Eris to (Y/N)), mia cara (Azriel to Eris), mon cher (Eris to Azriel)

🔎 rating: PG-13 | 🔏 word count: 3.5k

💜 masterlist + notes: Like… I love dark gothic and the Addams family is so iconic, love them. So… Why not do an Addams Family AU x ACOTAR with our favorite boys Eris and Azriel? They would be gorgeous in macabre — like Eris giving me Morticia vibes, elegant but ruthless while Azriel is big Gomez vibes with the pinstripe suit and cigar in between his fingers; both wearing black, all the while reader being this pastel princess in bright pastels and pinks. Ugh, such a vibe. I’ve never written a bratty reader before. And thank you to @prythianpages (and sorry Hope! I couldn’t do the FIRE OF MY LOINS” as much as I love it LMAO) and @dawneternal for suggestions for the nicknames for (Y/N)!! This fic has a bunch of sexual tension and dark intentions, I hope I portray it correctly. I hope you enjoy it.

A long sigh escaped your lips, eyes staring into the hearth across the room, your eyes distant and your mind racing — a normal occurrence for you. It seemed as if your mind never calmed; voices echoed in your head, real and from beyond the grave — a silly power of clairaudience. You didn’t know what to focus on — you didn’t even know if the thoughts in your head were yours anymore and you often were found like this, staring into space, eyes unfocused.

You arrived at the spooky hilltop house not too long ago, stepping through the large wooden doors and going through familiar halls and doorways to your favorite little nook in the whole house: a simple overgrown sunroom.

Flopping down on the familiar black gothic couch, you laid perpendicular, body facing the glass ceiling, legs slung over the back of the couch. The hearth across from you roared to life as if the house knew you were home, and that thought made you smile softly. Eyes wandered around you, spotting a familiar book on the side table. You immediately recognized whose book it was — Eris’s. That man loved a good Edgar Allen Poe book, and always seemed to carry one around in his large lithe hands.

Attempting to be as graceful as your lover, you plucked the book from its place, opening the book to read a page of poetry, in an attempt to drown out the voices in your head; however, your mind continued to race, the voices in your head relentless with whispered words.

That lady down the hill… she kept saying…

The girls at work called you —-

People think you’re nothing but a —-

With a frustrated groan, you threw the thick book across the room, hearing the loud thud as it landed a few inches from the fiery hearth. A pout tugged at the edge of your pink-stained lips, eyes shifting from the faced-down book and focusing on the movement of the fire, another attempt to muffle the voices in your head.

Azriel heard the loud thud from the grand staircase and he couldn’t help but raise a brow at the sound. His shadows zoomed from underneath his feet, guiding him towards the familiar sunroom, quiet footsteps following their trail. He saw familiar pale legs slung over the black couch, feet bound in pink lolita heels, topped off with a pretty bow, and calves covered in white lace leggings.

(Y/N).

He wasn’t aware that you had arrived home, not even his shadows were aware. Usually, you would parade yourself throughout the whole house — practically announcing your presence to your lovers. But the fact that you had arrived at the house, both he and his husband were not aware of your presence in the large house made his heart feel unsettled.

Cradling a glass of wine in his hand, he summoned his shadows back to him as he walked over to the large carved archway and leaned against it, eyes shifting up from your feet to your legs, and just a bit over your knees, before noticing the discarded book near the hearth.

“Sweet angel?” he called your nickname and watched as your head popped up, eyes focusing on him and a delicate hand giving him a little wave from your position. He could tell you were too lazy to shift yourself into a proper position; however, he did not mind at all.

He got to see a gorgeous view of your tempting legs.

Though he was quite sure Eris would have a few words about it.

You laid your head back down, head hanging from the edge of the couch, and focused back on the hearth. As much as you loved being around your lovers, your head was far too occupied and all you could focus was on those damned voices.

You didn’t even hear Azriel’s footsteps grow closer to you, didn’t hear the gentle clink of the wine glass being placed down on the marble side table where the book had laid earlier. But when you felt cold hands on your knees, you were brought back from your thoughts and looked up at your lover, a worried gaze hidden deep in cobalt hues. His hands ran up your thighs, fingers touching the edge of your white tennis skirt, gently squeezing your naked thighs in his grasp.

You shivered at his touches, eyes fluttering close and a deep chuckle vibrated through Azriel — his voice always made your body tingle in the right ways.

But what you were grateful for the most was that when Azriel touched you, the voices in your head stopped — silence finally taking over your brain. And you let out a relaxed sigh, your body becoming putty on the couch, your head slacking over the edge of the couch.

Azriel recognized that sigh and couldn’t help but coo, fingers continuing to massage your thighs, his shadows slithering from underneath his fingertips to crawl over your skin, as his eyes looked over your outfit. You were dressed in a pretty white ensemble with hints of pink — a short skirt that stopped above your thighs and an intricate floral corset that hugged your curves in all the right ways. Due to your position, your skirt bunched a bit higher on your thighs, showing the juncture between your legs, with a tiny peek of your pristine white underwear, where he noticed tiny pink bows at the bottom seam. Azriel wasn’t sure whether you were trying to seduce him, but he knew from that sigh that you weren’t overtly trying to seduce him.

Your brain had just been in overdrive because of your powers.

His eyes traveled from the column of your neck to your face — one full of content and relief. Azriel was glad that he could keep you at peace, he knew how awful your powers could become when your mind was overwhelmed with voices. You had always told him and Eris that their touches were the only thing that kept the voices at bay — and they didn’t mind, they loved touching you — whether it be in the most sinful ways or the most innocent ways … but both opt for the former.

“You feeling better, sweet angel?” he murmured, his voice soft and gentle, not wanting you to be overwhelmed by your senses. He watched as his shadows slithered over your outfit and your skin and your body shivered again.

You nodded, a soft hum escaping your throat as your eyes fluttered back open to look up at him. You focused on his touch, focused on those tendrils of shadow — feeling those calloused and scarred hands squeezing and rubbing your flesh. His hands and shadows were nice and cold against your normally warm skin.

It helped calm your racing mind from those pesky voices that bothered you throughout the day.

Eyes locked onto cobalt hues and he gave you a soft smile, his hands sliding up your sides before grasping your upper back and heaving you up. A squeal escaped your lips as you were brought up to sit at the top of the couch, arms wrapping around Azriel’s strong shoulders as his hands slid to wrap around your waist, keeping you steady.

“There’s my sweet girl…” Azriel murmured, pressing a kiss on your cheek and you giggled, smelling the fruity taste of the alcohol he was drinking in his breath.

“Hi, Azzie…” you greeted him with a smile, snuggling your cheek against his own.

“You scared me for a moment, I didn’t even know you were home…” he hummed out, fingers slipping underneath the lace of your corset, tugging them to free you from the bindings.

A sigh escaped your lips and rested your cheek on his shoulder, just savoring his touches, savoring the silence of your head — focusing on your lover.

“…I’m sorry, Azzie…” you murmured, “My head was too much, I just wanted the voices to stop…”

“—-Is that why Eris’s book is on the floor, darling?” he asked with a chuckle, pressing a kiss on your shoulder as his eyes went back onto the book on the ground. He should pick it up and place it where it belongs — he didn’t want his husband’s favorite book to be burnt.

But he couldn’t be bothered at the moment — not when his favorite girl was in his arms. And he wasn’t mad — how could he be with his darling? He knew you were trying to distract yourself but it wasn’t proper etiquette to be throwing things in the house.

“Did you have a tiny tantrum?”

You pouted, bottom lip shaking a bit. You didn’t like throwing tantrums, and most of the time it wasn’t; however, you were just so frustrated with the voices you just threw the book.

You didn’t mean it.

“I’m a good girl, Azzie… Always have been…” you muttered.

Azriel chuckled again at your statement, soothingly rubbing your back.

Yes, you had always been a good girl — their good girl.

Before he could retort that statement, he heard familiar footsteps behind him, his shadows slinking back into his form. Azriel didn’t need to look behind him — he knew those foosteps like the back of his hand, “Do you think (Y/N)’s been a good girl, mia cara?”

You blinked momentarily and looked behind him to see Eris stepping into the room, dressed to the nines — a red vest over a pristine white see-through shirt and simple black slacks. You loved how opposite the two men could be — Azriel in his blue and black ensemble and Eris always in some red hue.

The redhead walked over, standing next to his husband as a hum escaped his lips, looking over your outfit.

Much like Azriel, as much as they adored you in black — what they had dubbed family colors — Eris loved you in your pink and white outfits, you were like a candy waiting to be eaten.

But mind out of the gutter, amber hues noticed the discarded book near the hearth and he couldn’t help but raise a brow. That wasn’t where he had left his favorite poetry book. It didn’t take long for the male to connect the dots — the discarded book to the question.

Eris gave a low chuckle, reaching over to run long fingers through your hair, tugging the pretty little pink headband, and watching it drop onto the couch. He smoothed your hair down over your back before he opted to grasp your hips, squeezing them as he stepped closer to you, feeling his husband step to the side to give him room.

“Seeing my book haphazardly on the floor tells me she hasn’t been a good girl, mon cher…” he answered, his breath over your features.

You could smell and taste the hint of rose tea in his breath and you couldn’t help but lick your lower lips on how alluring Eris was — well practically the both of them were. The way they stood next to each other was practically a painting made by the Gods and you were a mere mortal gazing up at their etherealness. You didn’t even care that Eris had voiced you weren’t a good girl — your mind had fogged up too quickly at the sight of your beautiful lovers, that you spaced out, staring up at them with wide-doll-like eyes that both your lovers couldn’t help but chuckle on how innocent you looked.

“My morose?” Eris whispered your beloved nickname. That snapped your attention back up at him, your head tilting. It took a moment for your mind to catch up the fog slowly dissipating.

You blinked twice before you pouted, “I have been a good girl, Eris…” you whined softly, a hand unwrapping from Azriel’s shoulder to place on Eris’s muscular upper arms, well-manicured nails gently scraping the sheer fabric, “My head had too many voices, they wouldn’t shut up… I tried to distract myself with your book and well —-”

Looking over your shoulder and focused on the book on the ground, teeth biting into your lower lip before you looked back up at your two lovers through your lashes, “…I didn’t mean to throw it to the ground, Eris… I needed a distraction…”

“And you didn’t bother looking for me or Azriel to help distract you, my morose?” Eris questioned, his voice stern yet soft, understanding why you had done that.

“I didn’t even know she was here, mia cara…” Azriel informed his husband, his hand still playing with the straps of your lace.

Eris furrowed his brows as he looked down at you — it was very unlike you to be quiet with your entry. He knew something was up — and from what he could guess, it was due to being overstimulated with your powers.

You pouted again, eyes averting their gaze as your hands slipped from their respected position on both men to play with the lapels of their outfits, “…I didn’t want to bother either of you. And my mind was just… preoccupied by the stupid voices. I didn’t want either of you to get mad too because I was so frustrated…”

You heard Eris sigh and his free hand that was not occupied with your waist, which was now joining his husband’s on your back with undoing your laces, gently grasped your chin to force you to look back up at them.

“We would never get mad at you for seeking us out to help calm your mind, my darling…” he whispered, his lips hovering over yours, “You know that we like helping you, making you feel calm and making those voices stop… What we don’t like is you trying to solve your problem by yourself… Do you understand?”

You nodded and tilted your head up to gently capture your lover’s lips — it was your way of apologizing to both of them.

Eris chuckled into the kiss, the hand on your chin moved to cup the back of your neck to deepen the kiss. All the while, Azriel had finished untying the laces and tugging the corset off of you, leaving your top half bare. You shivered as the cold air of the house prickled your skin, and it didn’t help that both of your lover’s hands immediately cupped your breast, their cold fingers teasing flesh, leaving goosebumps along their wake.

A long whine escaped your lips as your head tilted back from the kiss, mouth a gape as the men decided to lean in and press kisses on either side of your neck, their lips pressed against your pulse point.

“Since you need a distraction, our sweet temptation, we can offer our full attention…” Eris teased.

Azriel chuckled against your skin, teeth going in to bite the junction of your neck and shoulders, while Eris’s hand shifted from the back of your neck to slide to your front and down the length of your body to slip underneath that damned tennis skirt.

And when fingers pressed against your covered core it left you mewling and absolute putty in their hands.

Oh, how Azriel and Eris loved distracting you, leaving your mind empty and wanting — much like the good girl you begged them you were.

“You know you didn't have to pick me up…” you commented, though you couldn't help but be giddy that both of your lovers opted to pick you up from your little hang-out with your friends.

Azriel and Eris were leaning against the black Hearse — Azriel puffing out a cloud of smoke, a lit cigar between his fingers; Eris held a parasol, shielding himself from the sun. The two men were very stoic but immediately softened at the sight of you practically skipping towards them.

Eris cooed and opened his arms, and you hopped into them, arms wrapping around his waist while his free hand tangled into your locks, lips brushing at the crown of your head.

The two of you were lost in hushed whispers — mostly Eris asking how your little hang out and if you had fun — while Azriel just watched with a fond smile on his features. Two of his favorite and most beloved people — right there.

Cobalt hues shifted from the two of you towards the group of friends that you hung out with today. Azriel knew — oh how he knew — that your so-called friends weren’t too fond of you.

Even now he could hear them whispering how strange you were for being part of a throuple. Eyes wandering your form that was practically engulfed by Eris’s large form. And when those judgmental eyes caught with his own, Azriel glared at them and watched them scamper off in fear — all except one.

A boy whose eyes were not on him — but on you. One full of lust and want, a look that Azriel didn't like. He watched those lecherous gazes run up and down your form, the boy’s tongue sticking out to lick his lower lip.

How absolutely disgusting.

Azriel grunted softly, displeased with the development of the day. He wasn’t too fond of lingering gazes your way — his precious angel, being ogled at from afar, especially in such a lewd way. At the grunt from his husband, Eris’s amber hues looked up in a questioning gaze. Azriel didn’t need to glance at his husband, didn’t need to communicate verbally, his gaze said everything Eris needed to know.

Eris’s lips did not move from the crown of your head, his movement inconspicuous to you who was babbling on how your day went. When amber eyes glanced at where his husband was looking at with a cold gaze, Eris felt his chest roar with fire.

Eris gently pulled away, lifting your chin so he could press a kiss on your lips, feeling your hands slide up his chest and wrap around his neck. You were so lost in the kiss that you did not realize that what your lover was doing was a distraction.

Azriel sent his shadows forth, watching them skim across the concrete toward the boy, who feebly tried to run away from them. Before a yell could escape his lips, the shadows consumed him, making him disappear into thin air.

Only Azriel and Eris knew where the shadows would have brought him.

Eris hummed into the kiss, pleased with what his husband did before pulling away from the kiss, amber hues looking over your spaced-out look. How adorable were you. “Time to go home, my morose… The pups are in the back waiting for you…” he said with a smirk.

He watched you return to Earth, hearing how the hounds were in the back seat, and he let you scramble out of his hold and hop into the back seats, where the two large black hounds greeted you with face licks, you squeal in delight as you closed the door behind you.

“Will you be joining us later, mon cher?” Eris mumbled, knowing exactly where his husband would be later that evening.

Azriel let out a deep chuckle, leaning over to kiss him briefly, “Keep our girl preoccupied… I’ll be there as soon as possible… Oh, and make sure you make her moan loud, I would love to hear how well you take her from the cellar…”

Eris smirked, opened the passenger seat, and slipped in, allowing Azriel to close the door. Ensuring his husband was safely inside, Azriel made his way to the driver seat and drove home — the unwanted guest in the depths of the cellar was waiting for Azriel.

“Doesn't she sound exquisite?” Azriel muttered, head tilted back towards the ceiling, listening to the loud moans and whines that came from the floors above — the sounds practically echoing around them. A pleased sigh escaped his lips before those brows furrowed and looked down at the bloody mess of the room — body parts slewn all over the floor, blood seeping into the concrete wall.

Cobalt hues looked his way and the large bulky man stepped from the shadows, “You know what to do with the body, Cassian…” the male muttered, rolling up his blood-stained sleeves, shoulders rolling back and a sigh escaping his lips.

The large man gave a graceful bow of his head, watching the head of the family turn his heels and head up the winding stairs back up to the main floor.

Cassian was the long-time family butler, large and menacing, he fit well within the weird and strange macabre family. He was used to the bloodthirsty and morbid ways of this family, nothing phased him.

Especially when it came to Azriel and Eris's sweet angel.

Cassian quickly realized that his masters would do practically anything for the girl that caught their eye.

Especially murder.

This wasn't the first time Azriel or Eris had opted to dismember a member of society for (Y/N)… there were far too many people to count at this point for the butler.

And no one would suspect his masters — they were to quick and clean, and his job? Was making sure that evidence was erased, especially after situations like this.

With bleach and cold water in each large hand, he started to clean the cellar, packing each body part into a separate bag — where he'd feed it to the carnivorous plants that Eris loved taking care of.

They do enjoy it when they are fed humans.

👑 General Tag List: @prythianpages . @strangelygreat . @honeybeeboobaa . @pit-and-the-pen

[clockwork-ashes]

Out of the Shadows

Summary: Azriel wants to know what Eris is doing on the night of the Winter Solstice.

Note: Thank you to the lovely anon who requested this azris one-shot!!!

Azriel kept his gaze on Eris, watched carefully as the other male leaned comfortably into the armchair by the open window. It was the longest night of the year, and where snow had just been falling gently to coat the streets of Velaris, the Autumn Court remained the same. 

Leaves the colour of expensive jewels danced in the light of the setting sun, the sky could barely be seen between the thick canopy of trees. The steady glow of the fireplace cast long shadows on the carpeted floors and stone walls of the study, perfect for Azriel to remain hidden. 

Eris untied the fabric around his neck with practiced fingers, revealing a triangle of pale skin. He folded the square neatly before placing it onto the smooth wooden surface of his desk. Azriel watched curiously as he rummaged through one of the drawers and carelessly tossed a carved case onto it. 

Eris ran a hand through his hair, tugging once on the strands at the nape of his neck. He must have been frustrated, Azriel realised, noticing for the first time how the other male’s lips were pressed together tightly. 

Eris opened the lid of the case with a loud click, pulling out a pipe made of birch. He licked his lips, placing it between them in a gesture that seemed surprisingly familiar. Azriel could only look on as the High Lord’s heir dropped a pinch of leaves into the chamber, tension leaving his broad shoulders with every action. 

The smallest flame came to life on Eris’s fingers, just enough so as to light the dry leaves. Holding onto the pipe lazily with a beringed hand, he sucked in gently, keeping the smoke in his mouth for a moment before he spoke. 

“Will you be staying in the shadows all night?” Eris offered into the small space, tilting his head back to rest on the chair as his eyes fluttered shut. 

Azriel paused, tracking the smooth column of the prince’s throat. He was surprised and he tried to hide deeper into the darkness, pressing himself more fully against the wall. 

Eris sighed, keeping the pipe in his mouth as he stood up and turned to grab two glasses from their place on a bar. He placed them onto his desk, stopping only to smoke briefly before he picked up a bottle of whiskey, pouring two fingers into each glass. Eris sat on his desk, long legs stretched out in front of him, booted feet crossed at the angle. 

Azriel was unable to tear away his gaze as Eris set down the pipe, taking a sip from his glass. “Care for a drink, shadowsinger?” 

Azriel could have groaned at how easily Eris had sensed his presence. He stepped out of the darkness, shaking his head, loose curls falling into his line of sight. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d be the type to want company.” 

Eris shrugged elegantly, his smile was sharp as the blade of any knife. “I suppose it depends on my mood.” He offered the glass to Azriel, who moved closer in order to take it with a gloved hand. 

Azriel tilted his head, glancing around the rest of the study. It was cozy in a way he had not been expecting. “You turned down an invitation to the Hewn City to spend your night like this?” 

“Kier annoys me,” Eris said simply, draining the rest of his glass and dragging the sleeve of his white shirt across his face. “What brings you here?” There was slight amusement in his tone, as though he had correctly guessed that Rhysand and Feyre were curious as to why he would have refused to join them for Starfall. 

Azriel ignored the question to ask one of his own, wings flaring. “No solstice celebrations tonight?” 

Eris snorted, tilting his chin in the window’s direction. “Does this look like the Winter Court?” 

Azriel did not know what to say, choosing instead to remain silent and drink from his glass. Eris raised a brow, expecting a response. “I thought all of Prythian did something for the solstice.” 

Eris clicked his tongue, looking at Azriel through his auburn lashes. “Some of us care very little for the longest night of the year and prefer the Autumn Equinox.” He took the pipe back into his hands, slowly placing it between his lips. In a gesture perhaps meant to rattle Azriel, he hollowed out his cheeks as he gently sucked the smoke into his mouth. 

Azriel felt a blush rise to his cheeks, and he was grateful for the lack of light in the room. His wings moved, the only outward sign of any attraction he might have felt for the male sitting in front of him. “Is this how you spend all your nights?” Azriel heard the raspiness in his own voice, a whisper of desire. 

Eris blew a circle of smoke at Azriel, the golden hoops going up the arch of his pointed ear flashing as he tilted his head like a wolf. “Tonight I think perhaps my plans have changed,” he leaned off of the desk, setting the pipe aside, only to walk closer to where Azriel was standing. 

They were about the same height, and Azriel saw as flames danced in the prince’s amber eyes. Eris breathed in deeply, a wicked smile on his full lips, and Azriel knew that the scent of his own arousal lingered in the small space. “What would you say, shadowsinger, have my plans changed?” 

Azriel wanted to grab the other male by the throat, wanted to leave a mark. He swallowed, heavy gaze never leaving Eris. “I think they have,” he said, voice low, suggestive. 

Before Azriel could reconsider the reckless decision he had made, Eris had already winnowed them both from the study. 

[the-darkestminds]

A Dying Flame

Eris POV — my first fic

Heyyyyy friends. I decided to write the two scenes UTM from Eris’s POV where Lucien is being tormented and Eris is forced to watch. It can also be found here. I’ve never written anything before so be nice to me 😭 I took a few lines directly from ACOTAR to set the scene and make it as canon as possible, but the rest came from me. I tried to channel SJM's writing style as best I could. I am trash for Eris so I couldn’t resist. I hope you guys like it 🥲 title is dumb so I might change it. I am eternally grateful for any of you who choose to read the whole thing, I promise it’s not too long! 🙏

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Eris

I stood at the edge of the gathered crowd, struggling to keep the cool mask of indifference on my face as Amarantha once again had Lucien bound and on his knees before her. Would his torment never cease? He had never quite mastered the ability to keep his mouth shut, to leash his tongue until the moment it would best serve him. Lucien’s loud mouth had already cost him his left eye, plucked right from his head by Amarantha herself. Rage coursed through me at the role I was forced to play each day under this cursed mountain. How useless I’d become at protecting those I held most dear. 

Lucien and I had not exchanged honest words in over 30 years. I longed for the chance to speak to him alone, to beg him to hold his tongue so as not to draw Amarantha’s ire more than he already had. Not for the first time, I desperately wished for the daemati abilities the High Lord of Night possessed so that I might speak to Lucien privately. Abilities he was about to unleash upon my brother.  

Beside Lucien stood a small and ordinary mortal girl, likely Amarantha’s newest plaything to torture and discard.

“Her name?” Amarantha asked Tamlin, who didn’t reply. “I don’t suppose your handsome brothers know, Lucien,” she purred.

Give up her name! I nearly begged him. To hell with the girl. Instead I heard myself say, “If we did, Lady, we would be the first to tell you.” The words tasted like poison on my tongue. My brothers chuckled from behind me.

Amarantha only smiled and nodded at Rhysand. He cocked his head, his eyes narrowing slightly on Lucien, who hissed in pain.

I tensed as Rhysand began smiling faintly. Bastard. He was a loathsome, foul bastard. And though I knew he played a role and wore a mask as much as the rest of us, it didn’t stop me from hating him as he held Lucien’s mind in his clutches.

Lucien stiffened in pain. A groan slipped out of him, and– 

“Feyre!” the girl shouted. “My name is Feyre.” 

Lucien sagged on the ground, trembling. Relief shuttered through me, and I bared my teeth and snarled quietly at the girl to disguise the trembling in my hands, my legs. He was safe, for now. And no thanks to me. 

The conversation continued, but I let my mind drift far away. Tried to feel nothing as I attempted to calm my racing heart. I clenched my sweaty palms at my sides and allowed myself a quick glance at Lucien’s prone form. Alive–for now. 

I slipped back into the crowd as they dragged Feyre away. He was alive. I repeated this to myself as the cruelty continued through the night, as it did every night in this miserable place. Alive–as I sipped wine and smiled at the punishment the Attor was inflicting on the poor faeries Amarantha had singled out this evening. Alive, alive, alive a steady chant in my blood as the night wore on.

Alive.

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“Well, Feyre, your second trial has come.” I heard Amarantha smugly announce from her throne at the front of the room. A gnawing dread had been pooling in my gut for the last hour. I could only guess at what new horror she had in store for the girl, but I grew increasingly anxious when I did not see Lucien amongst the revelers. He tended to lurk in the shadows of the room, one eye on Tamlin, ever the loyal sentry. I couldn’t help the low snarl that escaped me at the thought. That Lucien was willing to risk his own life for the Spring Court brute. The faerie next to me skittered away at the sound.

I slowly made my way towards the gathered crowd. Faeries averted their eyes as I passed. It was a relief that I still commanded a modicum of fear from these leeches. Their fear of me was a weapon I wielded frequently.

Amarantha sat proudly on her throne. The Attor at her left, Tamlin braced stiffly behind her on her right. 

“Here, Feyre darling, you shall find your task. Simply answer the question by selecting the correct lever, and you’ll win. Select the wrong one to your doom. As there are only three options, I think I have given you an unfair advantage.” Something metallic groaned at the snap of her fingers. “That is,” she added with a snake-like smile, “if you can solve the puzzle in time.”

I had just gotten a glimpse of the girl when the floor where she was standing began to sink down, revealing a small chamber split in two by a metal grate.

I went rigid as I beheld the figure chained to the floor, previously hidden from view. A loud roaring began building in my head. My skin felt tight and hot as I saw that it was Lucien–Lucien, who would again be part of the night’s entertainment. Lucien wrenched at the chains binding him to the floor. I nearly puked on the throne room floor at the sight of it.

Only the many years of practice in my long immortal life stopped the cry of anguish from escaping me as burning spikes began to slowly lower towards Lucien from above. I was a fool. A wretched fool to think Amarantha was done torturing him. That she would not use his friendship with the girl again and again until she finally broke, or was dead, Lucien along with her. I made to take a step forward but then jerked to a stop. Nothing. There was nothing I could do to stop this without damning us both further. I would be forced to watch in silent agony as Lucien was slowly and painfully crushed under the weight of those red-hot spikes. 

I stared and stared at Lucien, only vaguely aware of the girl flailing and panicking in the chamber next to him. This was some new level of hell. My nightmare brought to life, one that I could not wake myself up from. 

“Answer it!” Lucien shouted, his voice hitched. My eyes burned, and I felt a cold drop of sweat begin to drip down my spine. Only sheer force of will kept the practiced smirk on my lips. The spikes lowered further.

“Just pick one!” Lucien shouted. He strained against the chains, panting frantically, eyes wide.

My brothers around me laughed gleefully, and I forced myself to join in, the sound a pitiful rasp in my ears. I was grateful that the crowd around me was thoroughly distracted by the horror unfolding before us. That they could not hear my pounding heart or the screaming inside my head as those molten spikes lowered another inch closer to Lucien’s body, helplessly chained to the floor. This was the true torture. Not the painful lashes I’d so often received from my father for disappointing him in one way or another. Not the loneliness and fear that threatened to crush me after so many years navigating the snake pit of my father’s court. But this. Forced to stand idly by as my loved ones were killed. Forced to hear the fear in Lucien’s voice as he begged the girl to just pick a lever and be unable to stop any of it.

“Feyre, please!” Lucien moaned. The terror in his voice nearly brought me to my knees. And yet I stood there like a statue. Maybe this was my punishment for being so useless. So worthless. I desperately wished I could take Lucien’s place. That it was me chained to the floor. I deserved it.

I held my breath and shut my eyes as the girl finally reached for the third lever, bracing myself for what was surely to come. 

Silence. Then–a sigh. From Lucien. 

I opened my eyes at the sound and choked down the sob building in my chest. The girl, Feyre, had actually done it. By dumb luck or fate, she had saved them both.

I did not stay to witness Amarantha’s reaction to the girl besting her once more. Could not stand to be there a minute longer. I turned, not seeing any of the faces around me, desperate to escape the swirl of both panic and relief pressing in on me, threatening to swallow me whole. I could not fall apart, not here.

I stumbled away to the back of the throne room and kept walking until I was alone in a darkened passageway, the sounds of jeering and wicked laughter slowly disappearing. I leaned heavily against the nearest wall and emptied the contents of my stomach onto the floor. My eyes and throat burned and I let out the broken sob I had been holding in. I would allow myself one minute to fall apart, away from prying eyes. Just one minute, and then I would return to join in the merriment of those who had cheered as my brother had nearly been killed again.

I breathed in the damp, cold air of the mountain, my body shaking silently as I sunk to my knees. I listened to the drip, drip, drip of water on the stone floor and used it to slow my quaking heart. When the minute was up, I stood. Tunneled deep down inside until I could barely feel the rage and sorrow. I brought the smirk back to my mouth–it was second nature after all these years. I took one last deep breath, and turned back the way I had come. I had been gone too long, and these caves had eyes and ears that were always watching, always listening–always reporting back to her. And though Autumn Court fire burned in my veins, I forced my heart to freeze over, as cold as Kallias’s ice. I let that ice flow through me as I walked back–as I blocked out the despair that fought to drown me with every step I took. Until I was no one, and nothing. 

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A small part of me was aware that I was in shock. I drifted through the following day as if underwater, not fully hearing the words spoken to me or how I responded. Through it all, I made sure to keep the haughty mask on my face. Only when I spotted Lucien across the room did I feel as if I had come up briefly for air. Our eyes locked, and Lucien’s mouth tightened in displeasure. He held my gaze, emotion flickering in his right eye–there and then gone before I could decipher it. After a beat he looked away and was promptly swallowed up by the crowd.

I knew Lucien despised me. It was written on his face whenever he deigned to look me in the eyes, and I let him believe I felt the same. As much as it pained me to do so, I treated him as if he were nothing to me, no more than trash to be discarded. I hated myself more with each passing day–was at risk of being consumed by it entirely and slipping deep into the burning pit of fire within me. It was sheer defiance against the bitch queen that prevented me from doing so. The hope that I might one day see Autumn again. So many years trapped down in the dark were wearing heavy on my soul. The steady fear that I would fail those I sought to protect slowly ate away at me. What I’d give to breathe in the crisp, cool air of home, to walk amongst the red and gold leaves that sparkled like jewels in the dawn light. I held on to the hope that I would one day return. Tucked it deep down inside where it flickered softly, the aching pain in my heart its only companion.