#Eris x reader

[daycourtofficial]

Tell me I’m the only, only, only, only one - part six

Pairing: Eris x Azriel x reader | WC: 4.2k | warnings: general angst, mentions of dizziness and nausea

Summary: you wake up only to find out you were unconscious much longer than anticipated, leading to multiple needed confrontations

Author’s note: I’ve been a bit MIA lately 😅 just throwing this out in the void before going through my dms/inbox. I’m soooo excited for the next part

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You didn’t need to open your eyes to know how bad your head hurt. It felt impossibly heavy, practically glued to the pillow beneath you. You weren’t entirely sure your neck could hold up its weight anymore. You groaned, not really certain where you were. You combed through the last things you remembered, all of it a blur of blood and exhaustion, none of it clear.

“Do you want to tell me what’s been going on with you?”

A low female voice greeted you, receiving only a grunt in response. Thinking was hard and it only caused the throbbing in your head to worsen. You weren’t entirely sure who was talking to you or why, but you focused all of your energy trying to remember what happened.

All you could remember was blood and pain, a tiredness that you carried in your bones. There was arguing and arrows and Eris. Slowly more and more came back to you until you sat up, wincing at the sudden change, nearly nauseous from the movement.

“Azriel? How’s Azriel?” Your eyes cracked open to find your room around you, albeit slightly cleaner than when you had left it. The still room was a sharp contrast to how you felt inside. Nesta was sitting in a chair next to your bed, a book in her lap, a finger marking her place in it.

She didn’t look happy to see you, nor did she seem to care that you were awake.

“He’ll be fine, thanks to you it would seem.”

You groaned, falling back onto the bed. The suddenness was something you had not learned from when sitting up. Now the room was slightly spinning before you shut your eyes tight, hoping for some reprieve. You rubbed your eyes harshly until you saw stars.

“It would also seem like you almost burnt out saving him.”

Burnt out.

It was something they warned all healers, magic or not. There is a breaking point. A point of no return. It’s happened to many healers over the centuries, especially during times of war, when they don’t quite know their own limits.

Something all healers learn is the whereabouts of their magical limitations, where they need to stop before doing serious damage to themselves. All healers were taught not to place someone else’s life above your own. It’s drilled into your heads, one of the first rules of practicing the healing arts.

But you had done it. You had placed Azriel’s life above your own without even a second thought.

The pained look that was on Eris’s face was enough to keep you from crumbling from that realization.

For hours, you placed Azriel’s healing above yourself. You made the choice over and over again, choosing him over yourself. You made the right call. You would do it again. You could handle a broken bond, but not a dead one.

Maybe this one sided devotion was proof enough you were making the right decision.

“I’m sure you have a better understanding than I do of how stupid and reckless that is, and yet you still did it.” Nesta’s voice wasn’t the happy, soothing voices you usually hear patient’s families spoke with after they wake up. If you heard someone chastising a patient after waking, you’d chew their heads off. Instead, you stayed quiet, just watching Nesta as she continued on.

“For weeks now, I have sat idly by as you spiraled into self-destruction, but I can’t do so anymore.” Her voice cracked with each word, betraying the anger she was trying to inject into each word. “You are my friend, and I care so much about you. I’m worried about you.”

Her concern cracked at your heart. She crumpled into herself, bringing a hand up to her mouth. She looked uncomfortable, like her body had been glued to the chair and was finally unfolding itself from strange positions to find comfort.

“I’m fine, Nesta.” You were groggy, nauseous, and a bit heartbroken, but you’d be fine. Azriel was alive, you were going to be mateless, but you’d be fine.

Her eyebrows pinched together, a look of annoyance crossing over her features. You weren’t sure if it was over your words or interrupting her.

“I haven’t been there for you as I should. I thought you needed space, and now you’re here.” She spat out the last word, but you knew she wasn’t talking about being confined to your room.

“How long was I out?” You had to stop Nesta’s spiraling and get a handle on the situation. Madja wasn’t here to tell you what had happened, but surely you could parse out your state from a few questions Nesta should know the answers to.

“Four days.”

Nesta must be wrong. Surely there was no way you were incapacitated for four whole days. That was ridiculous. But you looked over Nesta, taking in the purple bags beneath her eyes, her hands fisting into the fabric of her wrinkled dress.

She wouldn’t lie about that.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” And you hadn’t. You hadn’t thought of anyone except for Azriel and Eris for several hours, all of your attention on the two males. When you weren’t examining Azriel for his condition, your gaze would end up floating to wherever Eris was.

But now neither of them are here, just you and Nesta.

“You didn’t scare me. I was terrified. I thought you were gone, thought you wouldn’t wake up.”

“Nesta, it wasn’t that bad.”

“Wasn’t that bad?” She repeated your words with a venom that had you recoil, preparing yourself for the strike. “You were wailing in Cassian’s arms in the foyer. You were inconsolable until you passed out. Madja’s been here nearly every hour to check on you.”

Shit. If Madja was making hourly rounds, you were in worse shape than you thought. Hourly rounds meant you must have been practically knocking on death’s door.

“What happened out there? What happened when you were with Azriel and Eris?” Nesta was practically pleading, desperate for some kind of answer. She was like a dog, a scent stuck in her nose until she nosed her way to the truth. You wanted to break, tell her everything.

Until you’re struck by the memory of Eris’s hand, pushing through Azriel’s wings, finding you. How tight his grip was, he warm his skin had been.

“We were ambushed. Azriel took the brunt of it. We healed him and came straight back here.” You absentmindedly rubbed at your wrist

“But you were gone for hours. You should have winnowed back.”

“Eris winnowed us somewhere. He was in bad shape, so I fixed him. How’s Azriel?” You needed to know more about his condition. Nesta said he’d be fine, but did that include any long term effects? How much had your healing helped him?

“He’s resting, but he’ll be fine.” She crossed her arms, her fingers tapping on her arm, not telling you much more than she already had. You were sure this was her punishing you, by leaving you in the dark on Azriel.

“If he wasn’t fine after you nearly killed yourself to save him, I’d resuscitate both of you to kill you myself.” You hadn’t realized you forgot to respond until she chastised you.

“Nesta-“

“You both were gone for hours. It was supposed to be quick. None of us realized until Rhysand couldn’t get through to either of you.”

You blinked, surprised at that. Eris must have had some form of protection put around the cabin that stopped Rhysand.

Interesting.

“And now you’re telling me next to nothing.”

“I just woke up. I can hardly recall it all myself, okay?” A lie. You remembered all of it clearly. The splintering wood, having to carefully remove the arrowheads, all of the blood gushing from him, Eris’s quick remarks.

“Did you fuck him?” The question was quick and unexpected, and you nearly snapped your neck with how quickly you looked at her.

“Who, Eris?” She didn’t move, didn’t give away any slight movement. Still as a statue as yiur heart began beating faster.

“Yes, Eris. You reek of him these days. I won’t tell the others, but I need to know.” His name on her tongue sent a rush through your body, your jaw ticking in annoyance.

“Yes Nesta, I fucked him while Az was bleeding out.” The barb was quick on your tongue, this conversation raising your heckles and irritating you more than anything. Nesta’s eyes hardened for a flash, a mischievous glint in them before she softened ever so slightly, her voice turning from admonishing to conspiratorial in a manner of seconds.

“Do you think he’s a selfless lover?”

“No.” The response was too quick, too ready on the forefront of your mind, something that didn’t go unnoticed by your friend. “I imagine he’s selfish in every aspect of his life.”

“So you imagine it?”

“Nesta.” Her name was sharp from your mouth, a knife slicing across the room. She took a more defensive stance, approaching your bed. A knowing smirk overtook her features for just a moment before it quickly contorted into one of concern and annoyance.

“Mother’s sake, tell me something, anything.” Nesta was pleading at this point, uncaring at the vulnerability and guilt she was sure was all over her face.

“I can’t.”

“You can tell me anything. Are you in danger?”

“No.”

“Well, I don’t know! You’re avoiding everyone, you're being self destructive, you’re spending a lot of time with Eris of all fae. What am I supposed to think?” She was pacing now, her footfalls back and forth across your floor, an anxious rhythm that only dug the secret deeper and deeper inside of you.

“Nesta, I can’t tell you.”

“I’m not accepting that.”

“What?” Her concern was shifting into nosiness. You clenched your hands in frustration, nails digging into skin harsh enough to leave marks.

“It’s not good enough.”

Rage was coiling inside of you, a ferocity nipping at your fingertips begging to be let out. You had to swallow down a growl from slipping out, the territorial feeling nearly consuming you.

You had to stall her. Get her out of here before you exploded before her.

“Give me a month to figure things out. I’ll be honest with you then.”

“A week.” You sighed through your nose. Of course Nesta was going to barter with you. Your left hand felt warm. A small trickle of blood was about to stain your sheets, no doubt.

“Two weeks.”

She looked to the window, her face blank as she thought over your offer. She was taking this almost too seriously, as if it were hostage negotiations or preparing for war.

“Fine. Fourteen days from now you’re telling me everything.” She pointed a long finger at you, the agreement weighing the air down. You felt a shift in the room, uncertain of the magical perimeters of your verbal agreement.

You released your hand, grabbing the pillow behind you. You didn’t care about the blood as you held the soft material to your face and screamed.

-

Members of the Inner Circle trickled in throughout the day, each one wanting to see for themselves you were awake and had all your faculties about you. It was sweet, but by the time you had seen Cassian and his boisterous laugh, your head was pounding so hard it made the soft lights in your room appear blinding.

Feyre had come in a few hours after Cassian, boxes loaded in her arms as she came into your room. You were a bit groggy, having just woken from a nap in the hopes it would tampen your migraine.

It half worked.

“What is all that?”

The boxes shuffled in Feyre’s arms, ringing and tingling with each step.

“Well, I wanted to bring some jewelry to look over for the gala in a few weeks.” You had completely forgotten about it, had forgotten that one of the days you were incapacitated was a scheduled day for you, Feyre, and Mor to go dress shopping.

“Thanks, Fey. Sorry for missing-” she shushed you, not letting you finish your apology. She spread the boxes across your bed, gently lifting the lid of each one to reveal exquisite necklace after exquisite necklace. Each one contained more vibrant jewels, shinier than the last.

The eight boxes practically blinded you with the light coming in. Feyre noticed the squint in your eye and quickly closed the curtains.

“They're gorgeous, but I haven’t even picked a dress.”

“Maybe you could pick a dress after you pick the jewels. Black goes with everything, so..” she trailed off, sitting in the seat next to you, her back straight. She watched you eagerly, her eyes flitting between you and the pile of jewels before you.

“Are you wearing any of these?”

“No - Rhys surprised me with some onyx pearls. Want them on full display.” She reached a hand up to her throat, as if feeling for the necklace. It was pretty easy to figure out exactly what Feyre meant - skin, and lots of it, on display. She was much quicker to adapt to fae views on modesty than you had anticipated.

“Oh, well in that case.” You sat up a bit straighter, moving slowly to avoid as much pain as possible. Each necklace must have been worth a pile of gold marks.

A few of them looked quite similar - chunky gemstones of varying colors set in different metals. One necklace did catch your eye. You kept looking over to it, the other ones looking dull and lifeless in comparison. Deep red stones perfectly set to resemble Night Court jasmines. The dark red nearly looked black until the light hit it, refracting rays of red. The stones branched out, weaving around the neck to create multiple flowers connected by leaves.

You couldn’t stop looking at the necklace, your hand gently rubbing across it.

“Do you like that one?”

Feyre had a knowing look as she watched you, but you didn't turn to see it.

“Yes. I do.”

-

A few more visitors came and went - Madja (again), Rhysand, Mor. Each one not the shadowsinger you wanted to see. Maybe it was better to wait. Build your strength up a bit before shattering your heart.

Rhysand and Mor could both tell your head wasn’t with them. Rhys accepted it, leaving you to your thoughts, but Mor lingered, her never ending stories an attempt at distracting you. The attempt half worked - at least now only every other thought was about Azriel.

But most of the other ones were about Eris.

Your friends tried to help clear your mind, but all your thoughts whirled and swirled with fire and shadow, bright and vibrant colors immediately snuffed out by the darkness.

Everyone told you Azriel was fine. But where was he? You felt unsettled, unable to truly concentrate without seeing him.

You glanced over to your bedside table, the book on broken mating bonds practically laughing at your turmoil.

You went over what to expect again, trying to see if you can recall all the symptoms and long term side effects of the broken bond, repeating them to yourself like a mantra.

-

It wasn’t until the next day you saw Azriel. He had gently knocked on the door before coming in, each movement slow and unsure, as if approaching a wild animal.

“I had heard rumors you were awake. Wanted to check for myself.” He stood with the door to his back, as far away as possible from you. One hand on the knob, but his body was angled right at you.

You couldn’t think of anything to say, only stare at him outright.

Azriel looked beautiful, like always, but he carried a tiredness with him. His wings weren’t as high as they usually stood, his shoulders were caved in a bit. His shadows were slithering in every direction, all trying to reach you, but held back by some invisible tether.

He looked miserable.

“If you don’t want me here, I can go.” Azriel’s voice was soft, an echo in the dark woods late at night. A salvation or a new fear.

“Have you visited while I was asleep?” You didn’t want to tell him how much you wanted him here, how much you still thought of him.

So what if you were going to stretch out the last few minutes of your bond.

“Madja wouldn’t let me. She had Cassian and Mor practically guarding the door day and night to ensure I stayed put until completely recovered.” He scoffed as he said it, as if he were nothing more than an animal incapable of decisive thought.

Or they didn’t think he was the coward he had been for the past few weeks. They thought him capable of seeing you.

And yet here he was. Despite his self-loathing, his inability to make a decision, to speak, to do anything his mates need him to.

He wanted to be the male his mates needed.

“I wanted-“ he began, searching the room for his next words, as if they would be written out on your wardrobe or the painting behind your head. He tightened his hand into a fist, the scars nearly turning white as he looked at you head on.

“I wanted to thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. It’s my job.”

“It’s not your job to nearly die saving me.”

“I would have done it for anyone else.” The second the words left your lips, you knew Azriel wouldn’t believe them. He always knew when you were lying somehow, as if the mating bond gave him some unfair advantage to your heart and motivations.

Azriel only nodded, not fighting you on the lie. You watched him suspiciously, watched his chest rising and falling, subconsciously counting his breaths.

“Are you tired?”

He looked anguished, like he carried a deep hunger and no meal was enough to sustain him, let alone nourish him.

“No.”

“Nesta said you needed more rest.”

“Nesta lies when it suits her.”

An awkward silence settled over the two of you, weighing you down further into the bed. You took a deep breath, propping yourself up on your elbows until you reached a sitting position. You knew what you had to do, what you had to say. It wouldn’t get easier the longer this went on. Azriel moved to your side, moving pillows to give you a proper cushion and to help prop you up.

“We should talk, Az.” He looked over you, the pillows abandoned as all of his attention was focused on you. You held your hands in your lap, wringing them for every ounce of courage they contained to get through this conversation. Your stomach churned with dread, the thread around your heart trying to stop you from saying what you had to.

“When you were injured, because of me, I decided it’s not fair to you or me to keep dragging this out. We should end things.” You looked at your hands, proud you had gotten the words out without stuttering or breaking. You swallowed harshly, your throat dry, but you couldn’t bring yourself to reach for the water on your nightstand.

Quiet surrounded you, a stillness you hadn’t expected from this conversation. There were no shouts or sobs, no frustration sitting in your chest. No relief or songs of praise at being free.

Just silence. Like you had made him incapable of thought or feeling with those words.

“Is that what you want? Or is that what you think I want?” His words startled you, and you finally looked up to find a layer of rage coating his face. He had come closer while you were looking elsewhere, finally being in the room, allowing himself in the narrative.

Finally taking charge.

“Isn’t it? What’s the point in having a mate who doesn’t want you?” Your words had an immediate effect on him, the male before you rubbing his hands on his face. One of his shadows hooks around his fingers, trying to pry them away, to make him seen. Another one swirls his ear, and you can’t discern it, but you hear a light buzzing from it.

He sits in the chair next to your bed before quickly getting back up and grabbing one of your clammy hands.

“I have not been good to you or Eris. This is hard, okay? No one has ever had this happen and I didn’t want either of you hurt.”

You scoffed, trying to pull your hand away, but he held it tighter. The textured grooves of his skin were more prominent as he held you. “Bit late for that.”

“Please. Please, give me more time. Give me a chance. Maybe we can figure something out, some kind of arrangement.” He was desperate, a pleading voice you had never heard from him. Was this how criminals of the Night Court looked to him, pleading at the ends of their lives for just one more chance?

“An arrangement?”

“I don’t know, okay? I’m not sure what to do when I have two mates who I care about who also hate each other and they both currently hate me.” He paused, chest heaving. His hazel eyes looked so lost, so unsure. “Not to mention someone out there knows about us or about us being out there. I haven’t been able to figure it out, haven’t been able to figure any of this out.”

The end of his sentence tapered off into his spymaster voice. A tone full of obsession and getting to the root of things, a dogged voice of determination.

“Please, let me take care of you. If not as your mate, as your friend. I care so deeply about you and you are where all my thoughts have been the past few days.”

“What of Eris?” Azriel used to recoil at the mention of his other mate, his name so foreign on your tongue. Now he showed no change, almost happy to hear it.

“He’s popped in now and then. He’s angry with me for getting hurt.” The mention of it sent you back there. A large, heavy body nearly crushing you in an effort to save you. Hoe you had felt him slump into you, his body giving out, unable to hold himself up any longer.

“Is he upset you shielded me?”

“Eris would be more upset if I shielded him. Autumn males are incredibly proud creatures.”

“As proud as Illyrians?” Your question brought a smirk to his lips, a twitch you knew he couldn’t suppress. You hadn’t seen it in a few weeks, but it felt more like a lifetime since you had a chance to see anything other than impassiveness or pain on his face.

“Almost.” He chuckled, lighthearted and free. A rarity you didn’t take for granted. His smile melted, a more serious, solemn expression overtaking his face. His hazel eyes were a shade full of desperation you knew a little too well.

“Give me time. Please. I’ll handle Eris. Just don’t - don’t reject the bond if you have an ounce of hope this could work. That’s not a sadness I wish to see you carry.”

“Why are you talking to me about this now? You’ve been avoiding this for weeks, Az.”

“I was afraid. I thought if I acknowledged it, I'd be hurting Eris. But I hurt both of you anyway. And I need-” the words die on his tongue, an awkward pause as he searches for the right words without being too vulnerable. “I need to- I needed to.. I don’t know how to do this. To be the male you both need. But I’m here now. I’m here.”

“Are you here because you have to be?”

“No. I want to be here. Let me be here. Let me try.”

Something about him cracked you open inside. In the weeks of this turmoil, the constant push and pull, the uncertainty, Azriel hadn’t looked so open, so vulnerable, so pained. If you spent long enough, you were sure you could map out every regret on his face.

Two roads laid before you. To end it all now, cut off any further heartache. Or you could try, allow Azriel time to figure something out.

He cared for you, you knew that deep inside of you.

With each passing second, your earlier resolve to end things became weaker and weaker, your heart winning the argument with your mind. Perhaps Nesta was right: you were self-destructing. Or was it the mating bond, so loudly swirling in your chest, determined to see itself recognized, even if it meant leading you overboard into frigid waters?

“You may stay. One condition.”

Azriel’s face relaxed, but he still seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, your words only lifting a few pounds off the load.

“You can’t leave at any inconvenient time, can’t just leave or shut me out because things get hard. I am your mate, and if you don’t treat me as an equal, or someone of importance… I’m gone.”

“Of course.” A light tingle gripped you again, less powerful than the magic that had floated around during your deal with Nesta. This time it was more like a light wind disturbing settled dust, spreading it across the both of you. Azriel’s skin almost brightened with the promise, breathing new life into him.

It suited him.

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[randomramblesfanfiction]

Flames in the Darkness

Chapter One

Eris Vanserra x Y/N

As the Lady of Night and Rhys’ wife before Feyre arrived, Y/N finds herself left alone after Under the Mountain, deserted and forgotten by Rhysand, and discovering a mating bond with Eris Vanserra…

Warnings: Angst, Sadness, Depression, SMUT (DO NOT READ IF MINOR), Violence, Fire Incidents, Bad Language

Y/N stilled as she watched the scene in front of her.

Her heart fully shattered after months of cracking.

Years of nights sharing him with Amarantha had turned into months of lonely nights without any glimmers of her husband.

Months of his presence being cold and distant.

Months of analyzing what she did to turn him away from her.

Months of worry and loneliness.

Months of jealousy of her husband’s new found affection.

Rhysand had a great mask towards others, but Y/N could always read right through him.

She watched as Rhysand watched Feyre “reborn”, the expressions that she’s analyzed for years, and saw the moment Rhysand’s mating bond snapped with Feyre. The emotion in the depth of his eyes, the slight jolt of his chest as if a rope pulled him, the small opening of his mouth in surprise.

Her body stiffened, as everyone around cheered and danced with the life back into Feyre Archeron.

The girl who saved Prythinian from Amarantha’s fifty year wrath.

The Cursebreaker.

Her husband’s mate.

Y/N guessed she should’ve known.

With the months of lonely nights she spent in their empty bed, the dinners where she watched her husband with Feyre on his lap, the distance of their conversations when they would even put effort into talking to one another…

In a terrible way, Y/N had accepted it then.

After everything they had gone through Under the Mountain with Amarantha, Y/N was glad they were both even alive. Y/N had known this experience would forever change them: the sexual torture both of them underwent separately and together, the emotional toll of being in this place alone without any of their friends and family.

She just never had expected this.

In a way, with this new revelation, Y/N thought that at least his discretions and loss of attention was not just any woman, it was his mate. There was no escaping the pull of the Cauldron.

It just didn’t make it any easier on her heart right now.

And Eris watched Y/N.

Doing his best to be aware of his surroundings - particularly his father who was winnowing out to Autumn alongside his mother and brothers, Eris watched Y/N’s rigid posture, shaking of hands, and the pain in her eyes. The agony evident on her face as she watched her husband develop a mating bond with someone else.

Just as Eris had watched her over the past months, her eyes deceiving her to him as she watched her husband dance with the Cursebreaker, parading her around like a trophy. Eris wanted to scream at Rhysand, yell at him for abandoning his wife for some human, after everything they were going through, everything they had been through.

Rhysand’s wife, the Lady of Night, who was far more beautiful than any other woman - fae or not - in all of the land. With blonde that shined like gold in the light, captivating blue eyes, and a perfect body, Y/N was envied by all.

Amarantha had used her not just to destroy Rhysand, but because she was jealous of Y/N as well. Everyone knew of the torture Y/N endured, the unmistakeable marks and sickly appearance Y/N doned, Amarantha’s glee echoing the halls.

Despite her beauty, Eris knew she was kind. Y/N never participated in any of the acts of her husband, only being a figurehead of the Lady of Night like the Lady of Autumn. He had known her from her youngest days as her father was Keirs right hand, knew how she was taught that women were seen and not heard. He knew how much she wanted to rebel, but feared for her life before she married Rhysand. Then, she played the act she had been taught her whole life - to stay in the shadows, the untouchable Lady of Night.

Eris was one of the few to know her true side - her motherly nature, her kindness that knew no bounds, her joy for simple things in life.

Y/N, Rhysand’s wife, Eris’ mate.

When Y/N spun quickly away from the crowd and began walking quickly down one of the halls, Eris followed after her, picking up his pace as she did. After he followed her into an empty room, Eris wasted no time in bringing her into his arms as she shook with sobs.

Y/N didn’t flinch, knowing instantly who it was by the feel of his arms, the warmth of his skin, and his distinctly spicy musk. Sighing, she twisted so she could rest her head on his chest, wrapping her arms around his torso. Eris rested his chin on the top of her head, holding her tight to him as he served as an anchor for her.

It was a while that they held each other like that before the sobbing had stopped and tears had stopped actively coming from her eyes. Eris rubbed her arms and back before she leaned and looked up at him.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Eris” She said, her face feeling puffy and her throat feeling a bit sore from the audible sobbing. He put his hand on the side of her face, staring at her, getting her to focus on him and not the drowning thoughts in her head.

“Do not be sorry, my flame” He said, the nickname slipping off his tongue - an old teasing nickname that felt now like a comfort to her.

“You stayed behind for me. You could be out of here by now” Y/N said, wiping her eyes to see him more clearly. His mouth twitched up in what some would say a small smile.

“You needed someone, and I didn’t think you want to go to your home right now. Come with me” He said, and Y/N sighed, nodding her head. She didn’t know what else to do, couldn’t think much more.

She still couldn’t believe Rhysand had left her alone, without a single thought - well she could, but it was breaking her heart too much to think about too deeply.

Feeling her arms clinging to him tightly, he winnowed her to his personal home.

“As happy as I am to see you brother, where is Y/N?” Cassian asked, looking around the room after Rhysand had winnowed back to Velaris and had a joyous reunion with his family.

Rhysand startled, looking around at his brothers, cousin and Amren and realized he had left Y/N alone.

“She must be wanting some space before she sees all of you. It was a difficult time… for both of us” Rhysand said, guiltily as he looked down, unable to meet eyes with his family. The Inner Circle met eachother’s gaze, wondering who was going to ask the questions first about their Lady.

“You left her there?” Mor asked, shock evident in her voice.

“Why weren’t you with her?” Cassian asked, trying not to be angry at his brother.

“She… I met my mate. The one who save Prythrian. She’s my mate” Rhysand said, putting a small smile on as he remembered.

There was silence, as the statement festered.

As happy as they were that Rhysand found his mate, what about the woman - his wife - of the past three hundred years that had been a part of their family?

“So you left the woman who’s been married to you and loved you for hundreds of years alone back Under the Mountain?” Amren all but growled at him. The rest of them looked at Rhysand for an explanation, hoping that she wasn’t right.

“A lot happened. Y/N probably needs some time and space. I have missed you all. It’s good to be home” Rhysand said, with finality as he went to go to his room.

The Inner Circle stared at each other, shock, anger and confusion etched in all of their features at the missing member of their family.

Y/N had been their sister, family and best friend. She had acted as a mother, confidant and caregiver to all of them at one point or another. She loved them all so much, gave them so much love and hope.

“I can’t believe he left her” Mor stated, breaking the heavy silence.

“He’ll regret that forever” Amren said, in a tone that ran chills down everyone’s spine.

“Maybe he’s right. Maybe Y/N just needs some space” Azriel said, trying to logic and not jump to conclusions that their brother just left her.

“No, she wouldn’t just leave us. We’re her family. Something happened. It’s been fifty years” Mor said, tears streaming down her face, as Cassian moved to bring her into her arms to console her.

“Should we go back and search for her?” Cassian asked looking at Azriel.

“Already sent shadows. Under the Mountain is abandoned” Azriel replied, looking bleak.

“She’ll be back. She has to come back, right?” Mor said looking to Amren.

“Rhysand clearly abandoned her. I don’t know” Amren said, honestly, as they all sighed. “But I know he’ll regret this”

They all sighed, before they could hear Rhysand coming back with some wine for them all. With a knowing glance, the Inner Circle pushed down their feelings of missing Y/N, and began drinking in joy their High Lord was home.

Waking up, Y/N couldn’t remember the last time she had such a restful sleep. Opening her eyes to the brightness of the sun shining through the windows, the events of last night flashing through her mind as she took in her unfamiliar surroundings.

It was a cozy looking cabin, with luxurious dark green and plaid fabrics decorating a large canopy bed and reading chairs. A large wall of book shelves, next to a built in reading nook with a large window of the forest outside was on one side of the room, while there was a closet and what looked to be a large marble bathroom on the other side. The rest of the cabin seemed to be straight ahead, but Y/N didn’t want to move too much or else risking Eris to wake up.

Looking back down, Y/N gazed admiringly at Eris’ sleeping form, his face basking in the glow of sunrise, his hair more of a golden tint than she had realized. Asleep, he looked almost at peace - a rare sight on a man who wore so many masks in public - masks she herself had been known to wear and was always sympathetic to him.

Y/N had known the true story of him and Mor’s arrangement, had been there for both of them surprisingly as they both battled the outcome of the situation. It had not been Eris’ fault, despite how by staying silent he had allowed that narrative to be, for Mor to get the narrative she wished happened. Beron was an evil man - a disgusting evil man that she wished would be gone sooner than later for the torture he put everyone through, especially his sons.

This beautiful man, Y/N thought, staring at every feature of his face, from his sharply chiseled jaw to his freckles dotting his complexion. She couldn’t help herself as she leaned over, pushing a lock of his hair away from his face.

Eris is too kind to have the reputation he does. He is the epitome of a gentleman. I can’t believe he came for me, waited for me, brought me out of there when my husband couldn’t even bother…If only people saw him like I do…

Something sharp tugged on her abdomen, jolting her.

As Y/N looked down, a glittering rope connecting her to Eris glowed. Y/N looked up at Eris, to find him looking intensely at her.

“Eris” She said, shocked before a smile began appearing on her face, joy in her eyes despite the exhaustion of emotions that had been the past day.

“I know, my flame. I’ve been waiting for you to know” Eris said, unable to stop his own smile in response to her happiness flooding their bond.

“You’re my mate” Y/N exclaimed, tears of joy in her eyes, as she leaned in to kiss him deeply. Eris groaned, reaching up and holding her face in his hands, maneuvering his body so he could roll himself on top of her.

“My beautiful mate” He whispered like a prayer, pressing himself against her as she kissed him back breathless, before holding her tightly to him as she began to sob.

TAGLIST:

@1potato2rulethemall @rcarbo1 @littlepippilongstocking @anainkandpaper @adventure-awaits13

[illyrianbitch]

thinking abt this tonight....

Handsome as Life and Poison

For @erisweekofficial Day 6: Retellings

Pairing: Reader x Eris

Summary: Defying your father’s sacred command, you wander to the grove where Spring and Autumn blend, only to encounter a sinfully divine figure with glowing amber eyes.

Warnings: sexual content/smut, nsfw! religious & biblical undertones & allusions, reader is overly innocent/naive, implied loss of virginity, sinner eris

Word Count: 3.5k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

You shouldn't be here.

You can feel it in your bones.

You've never traveled this far, never managed to make it to the border. Your father warned you about this area, where the bloom of spring meets the decay of autumn.

He says that there is evil that lurks under the canopy of fire trees, that the blood of Autumn is so cruel it's cursed their very ground. Father has warned you that if you were to come across a fall beast, you would never return. At least, not the way you once were.

You understand his concerns—to a certain extent. He's protective. He has a certain plan for your life. Safety, purity, security above all. And father has been stressed recently, twitching hands and sharp reprimands.

Your High Lord has descended into madness, moving on all fours, his paws sinking into the mud, more beast than man. He prowls in the darkness now, no better than the creatures he once cared for, and your father believes there’s safety in the small village you call home.

It’s far enough from the heart of Spring to grant a quiet, predictable life. The faces around you never change, familiar and worn like the stones that line the village paths. It's peaceful, quaint—a life promised to you forever once you marry Adramis, the neighbor’s son.

Until then, your father urges you to stay safe, to temper the curiosity he knows stirs within you, the kind that might lead you too far, too soon.

Yet, despite his warnings, you find yourself here, day after day, drawn to the very place you’ve been commanded to avoid.

It's prettier, somehow, at this time of day— in the dim dusk, when the birds are beginning to tire. The air is tinged with an unfamiliar chill, a whisper of the season’s change that beckons you closer. You can see the colors of the autumn leaves clearly, watch as they sway in an intricate dance of red, orange and gold.

The movements stir something within you—a call like the ancient siren songs your father once spoke of, drawing you into the twilight's fire embrace. You take another step further into the shifting hues of the forest.

The rustling of leaves comes to your ears—soft, hesitant, as though a beast moves swiftly through the underbrush. The sounds intensify, multiplying by the second.

Beasts, you think, multiple.

You catch a fleeting glimpse of red hair through the tangled foliage, a figure half-hidden by the encroaching shadows.

You stop, and a sickening thrill rolls through you. You should turn back. But a phantom hand seems to beckon to you, an invisible thread leading you deeper.

Then you see him.

His clothes, finer than any you’ve seen even at your High Lord’s court, cling to his tall, lean frame, the dark green fabric glinting with gold thread that catches the last remnants of the fading sun. Each detail—his long, tailored coat, the sharp lines of his collar—speaks of wealth, power, and a meticulous cruelty you’ve only heard whispers about.

Your breath hitches. You know, deep down, who he is.

He’s surrounded by beasts, ferocious creatures with eyes gleaming in the half-light, their snarls low and guttural. Their presence should terrify you, yet you can barely hear them over the thundering in your chest. You count more of them than you have fingers, but with a subtle motion of the prince's hand, they fall still. Regal, patient, they sit at his side, watching you with the same unnerving calm as their master.

He studies you.

You want to take a step forward, to speak to him, but a rustling sound breaks through the stillness behind you. You turn sharply, scanning the underbrush.

From your side, a firm hand clasps around your arm, jerking you back with startling urgency. Almost immediately, once your body has been moved, the touch leaves you.

You meet the frantic gaze of your fiancé. His eyes are wide and his chest is rising and falling with uneven breaths. He ran here, you conclude. Past the border of Spring.

He's scared. Not just for you—but of something else entirely. Adramis is afraid of your father more than he is of what lurks in these forests.

"What are you doing here?"

“I saw—” You turn quickly, pointing toward where the figure stood moments before, but the woods are empty. The fire hue of his hair, the regal presence, the hounds—all gone, swallowed by the shifting shadows of the trees.

You glance back at Adramis. He's staring at you with furrowed brows, lips pressing together as if he's unsure whether to scold or comfort, wary as if you were troubled in the mind. His eyes scan your face, searching for something. You're not sure what.

“It’s almost dark,” he says, his voice calm but insistent. “We should get back.”

There’s no question in his tone. It’s not a suggestion, not really. He’s telling you—gently, but still telling you. He'd never force you, no, Adramis is sweet. Simple. But he’s a male and you are his promised bride. What good would you be if you were to get lost in the autumn woods?

Nothing at all, you suppose.

You don’t answer him. Your mind wanders to the fire-haired prince, to his amber eyes and the strange pull that brought you here.

Your silence seems to worry Adramis more. He steps closer, his hand hovering near your skin but never making contact, as if he’s afraid to touch you.

“Are you feeling alright?”

His voice is soft. Too soft, almost, to where it makes you shiver uncomfortably, like the touch of something too light, too ghostly.

You momentarily expect him to reach out, to place his delicate hand on your forehead or gently touch the flushed skin of your neck. But Adramis only hesitates, his hand hovering in the air for a moment longer before pulling back.

Too good for his nature, too holy to even touch you with a bare hand.

With a slight shake of your head, you dispel the strange sensation that lingers.

“No, I’m alright." You blink and muster a smile. "Thank you.”

He nods, though his eyes remain troubled. You follow him back toward the familiar warmth of home, casting one final, reluctant glance at the encroaching shadows of where autumn's decay kisses the air.

The leaves are aflame with fading light, but beyond them, the darkness waits—quiet, watchful, tempting.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

You're grateful for the familiar routine of your father’s sleeping hours, for the certainty that he wouldn't wake for another few hours.

The sun is still waking now, too, its low, gentle light spilling into the navy sky. It is as slow and tentative as you, quiet in its bearings.

The air is cool and biting, the kind of chill that lingers in the space between night and day.

You wrap your cloak tighter against yourself. It's a thin fabric, white with green thread. It does little to ward off the morning’s bite, but you don’t mind. You welcome the cool breaths that manage to slither past the soft cloth.

The scent of the autumn forest is sharper, more vivid than the soft blooms of home, where everything is neat and ordered. It smells richer, more alive. As traitorous as it feels, you almost prefer it.

It’s only a short walk before you find yourself in the familiar patch of trees. The autumn leaves sing their song, that same siren call that led you here again.

And he’s there—alone this time. Waiting.

His amber eyes gleam and shine with a glow that you’re certain is sinful. You know, deep down, that you should leave, that holding even his gaze, with that burning stare, is treacherous. But you do not.

You're unsure of what to say, unsure if you should wait for him to speak. He pushes himself off the tree he'd rested against.

"Hello again, little lamb."

His voice drips with a smooth, hypnotic cadence. It wraps around you like an incantation, compelling and unholy.

It's strange to see him before you, to have him acknowledge you, to hear his voice directly. You glance around him almost instinctively, as if expecting his hounds to materialize from the shadows, to form a regal, beastly, floor-lain crown once more.

As if he senses your question by look alone, he lets out a small laugh.

"It's early," he says. "Even beasts must sleep at times, too."

Against your better judgment, the corners of your lips twitch upwards. He scans your face, taking another step towards you. You stand still, remain in the spot you had froze in. He begins to study you, walks around you like a shrine.

"A bit far from your home. Curiosity must be a powerful force."

He stops before you. You can smell him now. It envelops you—rich and intoxicating, a blend of autumn leaves and something darker, more primal. You clench at the sensation, a sweet tingle spreading through your body. It courses from your head to your fingertips, settling deep in your now aching core.

"My father says it's my nature."

Eris hums. The answer seems to please him. "And what else does your father say?"

You admire him for a fleeting moment. When the gentle breeze rakes its fingers through his hair, it glows like a live fire. Freckles dot his skin, spread across the pale coloring like the stars you adore in the sky. His eyes are a molten gold that match the detailing on his fine coat.

"That I shouldn't be here," you finally respond.

A serpent-like smile curls at his lips. It spreads slowly.

"And yet here you are."

You nod. The faintest shiver of fear lingers in your veins, but you're unable to tear your eyes from him. You feel an inexplicable pull, wishing for him to come closer, to feel the brush of his presence against you. 

Eris takes a step forward, his hand extending to graze the edge of your cloak. The touch is feather-light, a barely-there whisper of contact that sends a jolt through you. But it's firmer than Adramis's touch. It leaves you wanting more.

"Do you know who I am?"

You nod again. "Prince," you say, almost timidly. Quiet like a prey. "Son of the High Lord."

"Eris," he corrects. "My name is Eris."

"Eris," you repeat, his name falling from your lips like a comfortable prayer. You want to say it again, to taste the sweetness it offers your senses.

"And you are?"

You pause, brows furrowing slightly as you hold his gaze. His eyes still gleam, still glow with something so deliciously sinful, but something in them coaxes an answer from you.

"Y/n."

A moment passes. Eris takes a breath.

"Why did you return, Y/n?"

The way he says your name—a silky caress, a whispered secret—makes you yearn for him to repeat it, to let it roll off his tongue again and again. You have never heard anything so beautiful, so mouth-watering. You've never felt a desire this strong.

You struggle to find words, your head shaking slightly. “I-I don’t know.”

Eris’s gaze drifts to your lips, eyes darkening with a predatory curiosity. You're acutely aware of your lip trapped between your teeth and self-consciously release it, swallowing hard.

His eyes are intense as he meets yours again, almost devouring. But not scary. Not terrifying like you'd once believed.

"Does your village bore you?"

He knows where you live. That buried sense of fear begins to flare and you blink, swallowing hard as you take his presence in once more. He doesn't move, doesn't say anything else. Slowly, the fear dissipates.

"Yes," you admit. There is a stillness in your home that bores you. It makes your bones ache with craving. "But it is all I know."

He studies you for what feels like an eternity, his gaze intense and all-consuming. His hand, almost imperceptibly, brushes against the fabric of your cloak once more.

"You should return home, little lamb. Your father is going to worry."

Eris turns and leaves before you have a chance to respond.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

The secret should make you feel dirty, feel guilty like a reckless child, but it does not.

You wake before dawn and, like clockwork, you're traveling before the first ray of morning.

It's become routine now.

You approach the familiar area, where the border of Autumn seems to hold its breath, waiting for you. And there, amid the crimson and gold of fallen leaves, lies Eris.

He’s sprawled on a blanket laid out on the ground, a feast spread before him. The array of foods is a vision plucked from your most indulgent dreams, an array of rich, and tempting dishes. Your mouth waters at the sight—at the lavish feast and the male who has provided it.

"Come," he beckons and pats the blanket beside him. "Sit."

You lower yourself, the fabric soft beneath you. The scents of the feast rise to meet you, mingling in the crisp autumn air. You turn to him, your large eyes drinking in the sight before you, the face of celestial allure: hair like a smoldering fire, eyes glowing with the golden light of autumnal sunsets. Eris’s features are etched with an ethereal grace that seems both ancient and timeless.  With each passing day, you find yourself yearning to worship at his feet, to forge a devotion just for him. 

“Eris?”

A melodic hum leaves his throat. “Yes, little lamb?”

“Why do you call me that? ‘Little lamb.’”

Eris's fingers graze your cheek, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His touch is gentle, almost reverent. "I believe you know," he murmurs, his voice a low, soothing caress.

"Why did you seek me out again?” You ask him, “Why do you wait here?"

A smile curls at the corners of his mouth. He lets his fingers trace the line of your lips, his touch light as a sigh. “I believe you know that, too.”

Eris's eyes glint with something that seems almost divine. It is unlike anything that you’ve ever known, nothing like the stories your father has told you. Your gaze drifts to the feast laid out before you. You reach for a small, perfectly ripe apple, its glossy skin catching the muted light. The fruit feels cool and smooth against your fingers. 

Somehow, autumn's bounty surpasses even the lush abundance of spring. 

A sense of longing stirs within you.

How naïve you had been to think that your village, your court, held all the wonders the world had to offer. You had planned to stay, to settle into a life of security and predictability, never daring to venture beyond what was known.

You turn to Eris once more. His eyes flicker, amber catching the light as he reaches out, fingers brushing against your arm. His touch is featherlight, yet it sends a ripple of warmth through you. 

Your voice is barely a whisper as you confess, "I want to know a life bigger than my village."

“You wish to be free, little lamb?” He trails his hand down to where the apple rests in your grip, and with a slow motion, he gently takes it from you. "I can show you," he murmurs, turning the fruit over in his palm. His voice is like honey, rich and smooth. "You’ll know life—pleasure, want. All of it."

A tingle spreads through your body at his words, your breath shallow as you nod, leaning unconsciously into the heat of his presence. 

“Yes," you breathe, the word barely a whisper. "I want to be free.”

Eris’s lips curl into a grin, a quiet satisfaction settling in his gaze. He looks pleased, eager, as if he’s waited for this moment since time itself began. He draws closer and you can feel his presence everywhere, consuming, enveloping.

His lips brush against your ear. “Then let me show you.”

The apple falls from his hand, forgotten. He inches closer, the space between you dissolving as his warmth spills over you. A hand finds the delicate line of your throat, fingers grazing against your pulse.  With the lightest pressure, he lifts your chin, tilting your face toward his. His touch feels like a benediction.

He’s so close now that his breath melds with yours, the air around you thick with the scent of earth and fire. The world shrinks and the only thing that exists is him—his heat, his gaze, the slow, measured closeness that steals away your reason. His lips hover just above yours, and the ache of not touching nearly brings you to begging.

The first brush of his mouth against yours is light, a whisper, a tease, and you tremble beneath it. And then he claims you, his lips pressing against yours with a slow, haunting fervor. Your body goes slack as his movements seem to weave a spell, binding you to him with every caress of his tongue, every sigh he draws from your lips. 

You feel him guiding you, lowering you gently onto the blanket beneath, the world beneath you falling away. Eris hovers above you and dips his head, pressing his lips to the soft skin of your neck. His mouth sears your senses as he works his way down, the press of his touch growing heavier, more possessive with every inch.

“Such beauty,” he murmurs, “Unfolding before me like the dawn. You were meant to be here.” 

His words fall like a decree, a promise, and his lips continue their journey down, parting from your skin only to explore further. His fingers find the fabric of your dress. 

The air shifts around you, something soft brushing against your skin, falling away with the gentleness of leaves in autumn, leaving you bare to the elements—and to Eris. The cool air grazes your skin in places untouched by even the sun.

His calloused hands explore your bare form, one cupping your breast, fingers pressing and kneading with a practiced touch. His lips follow, settling on the other, and your hands grip the blanket beneath you— knuckles white as he demands your gaze to remain on him. His tongue circles your nipple, amber eyes locked with yours, burning, all consuming. 

Eris continues his careful exploration, moving downward as his lips follow the path of his hands. 

Fingers spread you apart with a confident touch. 

The sensation is profound and awakening, a mingling of sacred heat and cool anticipation. The essence of your very being is laid bare before him. You feel the brush of his fingertips against the tender places, feel as his lips follow with a similar reverence, their touch becoming a worship of its own.

And then he devours you with his mouth and hands. 

His tongue traces every inch of your throbbing core, flicking and teasing your sensitive nub. Your entire body quivers beneath him. You’re overwhelmed by a tidal wave of sensations you’ve never known before—an innocent purity being slowly unraveled and transformed by his touch alone. You tangle a hand in his auburn hair as his fingers plunge deep inside you, scissoring and pumping, working you over until you’re a quivering mess of desire.

Your body responds instinctively. You’re writhing and squirming, small sounds of pleasure falling from your lips. He bathes in the moans, groans in response as you repeat his name like a prayer. 

Eris sits up and soon you’re staring at his sculpted form, bare before you, ready to be worshiped, touched as he had explored you. His hardened length rests against you, blunt tip against your aching core, and you tighten your legs around him, pulling him closer. The crown of him splits you open with a steady pressure and he fills you completely, a divine intrusion that makes you gasp with the pleasure of being so thoroughly claimed. 

Eris stills, his body pressed flush against yours, your walls clenching around him as you adjust to the new, overwhelming sensation. His face nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his hand cupping your breast, thumb teasing your nipple in slow, deliberate strokes.

“Let me show you how pleasurable life can be.” Eris leans down, his lips brushing against yours in a tender caress. “Just tell me you’re mine.”

You arch into him. “I’m yours,” you whisper, voice trembling with surrender. “Free me.”

And as he begins to move, begins to roll his hips against yours, you turn your head, gaze falling to the apple lying beside you, untouched yet no longer gleaming—its perfect surface now bruised, smeared with the dirt of the earth.

Father was right about one thing.

You'd come across a beast, indeed, and you could never return.

Not fully.

Not the way you once were.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

author's note: happy retelling day from ur local exmormon!! im an eve defender till i die. biblical lore goes crazyyyy

as always, thank you for reading <3

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: 

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@evergreenlark @marina468 @azriels-human @book-obsessed124 @bubybubsters

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @feyretopia  @ninthcircleofprythian @velariscalling @azrielrot

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@angel-graces-world-of-chaos

[courtofjade]

Star Crossed

Eris Vanserra x Rhysand’sSister!Reader

Plot- A series of events leading to Eris Vanserra falling in love with the princess of the Night Court.(also lowkey Azriel pining but what’s new)

Warning! Alludes to smut but no actual

“I need to go freshen up. I’ll be right back.” Y/n spoke to Azriel. She began to walk away before he gently grabbed her wrist.

“Here I’ll escort you.” She rolled her eyes.

“I’ve been to plenty of these parties before. I do not need escorting.” He smiled at her softly.

“Yes but this is a party of the Autumn court. You need to be careful around here.” He spoke lowly. Y/n took a step closer to him. Leaning into his ear to whisper to him.

“I know Rhysand put you in charge of watching me tonight and you can tell him to shove it. I’m a big girl I can handle myself.” She smiled and patted his chest before turning away from him- taking a beat to notice the red that had adorned his cheeks and the way he tensed when she leaned close to him.

She made her way down a corridor- eyes scanning the halls. As she continued her search, a deep voice nearly made her jump out of her skin.

“Well well, what do we have here? The princess of the Night Court all by her lonesome?” Eris teased. “Your guard dogs off duty tonight?” Y/n rolled her eyes- flaring her wings and tilting her chin up at him.

“Is being a royal asshole a family trait or is that just you and daddy?” She spat.

“Fiery little thing aren’t you?” He smirked. “I don’t believe I’ve ever formally introduced myself. Eris Vanserra- heir of Autumn.” She glanced down as he extended his hand to hers.

“Y/n.” She allowed him to take her hand. She stared into his amber eyes as he brought her hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss onto it. She looked up at him curiously as he pushed a piece of her dark hair out of her face. Her heart stuttered a bit when a smirk donned his face. He opened his mouth to speak again- stopping after noticing a swirl of shadows walking down the corridor towards him.

“It appears we’ll have to continue this another time. Save me a dance, princess.” Azriel arrived in time to hear the end of Eris’s sentence, his shadows swirling protectively around Y/n.

“She will do no such thing.” He growled. “Keep your hands off of her.” He grabbed onto her hand, pulling her back to the ballroom. She spared a glance back to where he stood, catching his eyes already staring at her retreating form with something in his eyes she couldn’t put her finger on.

———————————————————————————

Y/n stood stoically to the left of Amarantha’s throne as Rhysand sat next to the red head on his own, slightly smaller, a bored look sat on his face. Beneath the facade, Y/n was beyond terrified of what the day entailed. Just an hour before - Nuala and Cerridwen had come to dress her in a particularly skimpy outfit, informing her that the Queen had something special planned for her. The dress, if you could even call it that, was even more revealing than the normal clothes she was forced to wear being Amarantha’s “pet”. Being the “gift” faes were given when they pleased their Queen.

She regained her focus, feeling something inside of her telling her to look to the entrance of the throne room. Not too soon after, the Vanserra family arrived. Her heart skipped a beat when seeing the eldest son. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the feeling. Eris’s eyes locked with hers. Normally he would tease her, send her a smirk or a wink of some sorts, but his gaze held a tense feeling she couldn’t place. The High Lord and heir made their way to the dais, breaking off the brothers who chose to mingle with the other faes of the court.

“You called, my Queen.” Beron said as they bowed to the redhead in the throne.

“I’ve been very pleased with the work you have been doing for my court.” She purred. “In appreciation for the loyalty you have shown- I have decided to bestow a gift to your heir.” This made Rhysand sit taller, causing and evil smirk to fall onto Amarantha’s lips. Y/n tried to catch his gaze from the corner of her eyes. She put her hands behind her back to hide their trembling.

“Y/n, my darling.” The queen drawled. “Your new position in this court will be to please the Lord’s eldest son. You are to stay with him in his chambers.”

Y/n’s breath caught in her chest. She tried to look to Rhysand for comfort but his eyes remained forward. His jaw locked tight, in attempt to not lash out and make matters worse.

Do not show your fear. She heard in her head from Rhysand. Keep your chin up. I promise you I will not let him hurt you.

Y/n looked forward to Eris, raising her chin ever so slightly, replacing the look of concern with a look of seduction. She descended the dais with a swing in her hips and allowed Eris to wrap an arm around her. He looked from her to Amarantha with a smug look on his face.

“What a lovely gift, my Lady. Have no doubt that she will be of good use.” He finished with a nod and began to direct her to his chambers. They made their way through the halls to where he resided. Past the many rooms she had been forced to spend the night as Amarantha’s personal prostitute. He guided her gently through the door to his room, with a hand grazing her bare back. He turned to shut the door, leaning on it for a brief moment.

Y/n made her way towards the bed. She huffed turning to look at the red head male.

“How would you like me, my lord.” She uttered in a bored tone. Eris turned from the closed door with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Do you really think that low of me?” He breathed with a snarl. “Do you truly believe I think of you so little?”

She flinched- taken aback by his words.

“Well after what you did to my cousin I’m not quite sure how you suppose I see you.”

“You know nothing, girl.” He seethed. “You do not know to the extent of what my father could have done had I helped her that day.”

“Oh it all boils down to daddy, huh?” She laughed lowly. “How am I supposed to know you’re not just like him?” Eris strode up to her, towering over her short figure. He breathed heavily, anger flowing through him like the fire in his veins. The fire she could feel radiating off of him. He raised a pointed finger at her, preparing to go off on a tangent, when Y/n winced as if to prepare for him to hurt her.

He lowered his hand, eyebrows creasing in concern. A frown replaced the snarl that had previously dawned his face.

“She has harmed you.” Eris whispered. Tears began to glisten in her eyes.

“It doesn’t matter.” She said simply, sniffling away the tears that threatened to spill. Something inside Eris twinged. A pull of some sort. A need to wrap his arms around her and hold her close. But also a need to incinerate that red headed bitch who laid his hands on her. He gently placed a hand on her cheek, gazing into her eyes.

“I will not let her hurt you again.” She stared up at him. Into his amber eyes. The eyes that looked down at her longingly. Longing for something he should not want and he could not have.

Y/n suddenly surged forward, kissing Eris like her life depended on it. Eris kissed back just as fervently, grabbing her waist and pulling her into him closely. Her arms slithered up to wrap around his neck and her hands tangled into his hair.

“No.” He breathed as he pulled away with a smack. “I do not need you to please me.” Y/n jumped up, wrapping her legs around his waist. Eris caught her with ease, keeping his hands on her waist respectfully.

“I need this. A distraction.” Y/n breathed. “I need you.” Eris prayed to the mother before laying her down onto the bed and attaching their lips once more.

———————————————————————————

Y/n sat to Rhysand’s left, Feyre to his right, at the table of the High Lord’s meeting. Next to her sat Azriel who currently sat brooding at Eris across from them. Eris sat smirking, unbothered by the Shadowsinger’s glare. She sat directly across from him, glowering while holding his gaze.

“Pity the other sister couldn’t come. I hear our little brother’s mate is quite the beauty.”

Y/n felt a pang in her chest. The corner of her mouth turning down ever so slightly. Of course not going unnoticed by Azriel who looked to her curiously.

Thankfully, Mor stepped in replying smoothly. “You still certainly like to hear yourself talk, Eris. Good to know some things never change over the centuries.” Eris’s eyes broke away from Y/n, lips curling into a smile.

“Good to know that after 500 years you still dress like a slut.” Azriel moved to stand before Y/n placed her hand on his shoulder, sitting him down while simultaneously standing up harshly.

“You’re a bastard.” She spit harshly, slamming her hands onto the table. Cassian let out a low whistle from a couple seats down. “You are a selfish, arrogant, sorry excuse of person.”

“Easy now, little fox.” He spoke calmly. Holding her gaze with an amused look. He knew the real reason behind her anger wasn’t necessarily the words he had spoken to Mor. Well a good part of it was that. But the other part? That was jealousy. Jealous at the words he had spoken about Elain. And part of it was anger. Anger at the fact that this was the first time she had seen him in a long while.

It was true, he had been neglecting his “duties” as a distraction for Y/n. Most of it had been for good reason. With everything going on with Hybern, he hardly had time to breathe let alone find time to bed the princess of Night. But the truth was, he could’ve found time. Gods he wanted to find time. But that was the problem. He had been finding himself wanting to see the dark haired beauty. And not just for the sex, though that was a good incentive. He had been wanting, craving, to hear her laughter, see her smile, look into those beautiful violet eyes. He had longed for the feeling of her touch. To feel her hands running along his chest and through his hair as he kissed her in all the places he could. And that-that was a problem. That could not happen between the sister of the High Lord of Night and the heir of Autumn. So he began to push her away. And now it was coming back to bite him in the ass.

“You are nothing but a coward. A-a cruel little weasel whose own head is shoved so far up his own ass he wears it like a hat.” She continued to ramble, feeling her power begin to bubble up in her chest. Rhysand could feel the power radiating off of her- eyeing Azriel to step in. Before he could, Y/n gasped, cutting herself off while holding her chest.

Rhysand stood up when he watched his sister lean over gripping her chest, her eyes wide with shock.

“Y/n? Is everything alright?” He whispered. He moved to comfort her when she whipped her head to him, stopping him from touching her.

“I’m fine.” She huffed. She quickly excused herself from the room, rushing out but not before sparing Eris a second glance. Eris who looked like the wind had been knocked out of him.

Though everyone else had been too focused on Y/n to notice, Nesta had been the only one to witness the twitch in Eris’s face when she had gasped. Her gaze pierced into him as she watched him glance towards Y/n’s retreating figure- quickly running his hand over his aching chest nonchalantly.

———————————————————————————

Eris Vanserra for once in his life was left speechless. He paced his room back and forth, absentmindedly burning a trail into the carpet where his feet had stepped.

Admittedly, he had always felt something for the Illyrian girl. Some sort of pull he couldn’t quite place. Though he always chalked it up to something relevant to lust. Not something as deep as a mating bond. And for it to have snapped at the High Lords meeting of all places. Luckily his father was not focused on him at the time. Didn’t see the slight flinch in his normally nonchalant face. And Eris was thankful for that- not wanting to know what would’ve happened if he had found out.

The feeling he had felt before it had snapped had been akin to a crush. Frequently having her on his mind. Thinking about her beautiful violet eyes, her smile, the lips he couldn’t seem to pull away from no matter how hard he tried, the body he couldn’t keep his hands off of even though he knew it was wrong. Now that the bond had snapped, it was so much worse. He couldn’t think, couldn’t sleep. Not when the bond sang for her. Craved her like a drug he couldn’t quite kick.

His thoughts were put on hold when a knock sounded at his door. He marched towards it, swinging it open harshly.

“Yes?” He exasperated to the servant. She eyed him with concern- noting his disheveled hair and the deep bags under his eyes. She handed a letter to him cautiously before bowing and turning back down the hall.

Eris scanned the letter. The dark purple wax seal could only mean one thing.

Not soon after, he arrived at the cozy cabin just on the outskirts of the Night Court, residing in Day. One he had frequented quite a few times after returning from under the mountain. He had been in practically every room in that place. He had taken her in practically every room in that place.

He stood at the front door, knocking gently. It was opened quite fast, revealing the striking violet eyes that made his heart quicken its pace. She stepped aside letting him enter. He leaned against the table in the kitchen, waiting for her to address what he knew she wanted him here to say. For once, not choosing to make a snarky remark or arrogant comment.

She took a moment to turn around from closing the door. Taking a deep breath as to regain her stability, and to also resist the urge to turn around and let him bend her over the dining table. Again.

“Does your father know?” She questioned. Choosing to stay a good distance away from the male.

He shook his head. “What about your clan? Do any of them suspect anything?”

“Just Nesta. But I’ve been adamantly trying to convince her that I think you’re a disgusting and vile person who I would wish to never make physical contact with.” She uttered, which made him let out a chuckle. “Which I’ve honestly been trying to convince myself the same for a while.”

Eris sighed. “I know my comments don’t really make you think I’m a great guy. But I assure you I don’t wish anything bad upon your family or friends and I have no qualms against them. If my father thought I had any sort of alliance with any of you…. I do not know what he would do to me.”

This made Y/n’s eyes soften, knowing the things his father had put him through. He continued, pushing off the table and walking closer to her.

“And although I know that the mother was cruel for doing this. For fating us together when there are so many reasons we should not want each other. I also know that I cannot stop thinking about you. And I have not been able to stop since I laid my eyes on you at the ball all those years ago. You, little fox, have been the bane of my existence. You have tormented my mind and my soul. And I know that if I spend another second denying this bond, I might burst into flames.”

Y/n sucked in a breath before closing the distance between them. She placed her hands on his chest, looking up into his amber eyes with a longing she once tried so hard to push away.

“If Rhysand finds out, I garuntee he will kill you. And if he doesn’t Azriel will most definitely.” Eris chuckled, moving his hands up to her face, like he once did so long ago under the mountain. But this time it was so different. “We cant do anything right now. Not with Hybern and your father and-and..”

He cut her off with a kiss, gentle and full of love. “We can worry about all that later.” Y/n trembled on weak knees.

“Maybe there’s one thing we can worry about right now.” She moved towards the table, perching herself onto it. She slowly leaned back, letting her legs part showing off the lacey bottoms she knew he loved.

Eris smirked, gripping her legs and using them to pull her hips towards him.

“Oh I would love to worry about that.”

———————————————————————————

A harsh tug on the bond pulled Eris out of the trance he was held in, working on important business of the Autum Court. The feeling wasn’t something totally abnormal. On many occasions, Y/n would send something down the bond. Whether that be feelings of affection, a gentle caress to calm his stress, or a mental imagine of her in a particular risky position. Though normally, her pulls on the bond were not this harsh.

He shrugged it off, chalking it up to her toying with him, probably having sensed he was up late again. Something she often reprimanded him for while rubbing his temples or stroking the creases that have made permanent residence on his forehead. So like normal, he tugged back.

Not even a minute later, he felt another tug. This time though seemed more urgent. The pull was rough and a feeling of urgency, panic, and pain came with it. He stood up abruptly, eyes creasing in concern.

Y/n? Is everything alright dear? He sent down the bond. Though no word back. Panic reverberated through his body. Something was wrong. Though he wasn’t sure it was the best answer, Eris winnowed to the border of Night and Day.

Rhysand halted from his pacing, eyes shooting to Cassian , who sat with his head in his hands.

“Someone got through the barrier.” Immediately after, a harsh knock sounded from the door of the townhouse.

The door opened for Eris revealing a confused and disheveled Feyre Archeron.

“Y/n. Where’s Y/n?” He huffed frantically, pushing through the door and into the main room. This made Nesta, who had been sitting on a lounge chair in the corner, raise an eyebrow. It had appeared her suspicion had been confirmed.

Rhysand stormed into the sitting room, power radiating off of him. Though his power normally flowed strong and with intention, this time it seemed sporadic. Like the panic that flowed through him was affecting him in more ways than one.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve coming here right now.” He spat. His power pushed Eris into a nearby wall, which caused his brows to furrow. Rhysand was normally pretty hotheaded towards Eris. They’ve always threw petty banter at each other. But he has rarely ever used his power against him. “I have never once questioned the mother for her choices. But this? This I can’t seem to get behind.”

“What are you talking about?” Eris huffed.

“Oh don’t act foolish.” Rhysand got in his face. “I know you’re mates.” How he had found out was beyond him. They were always extremely careful when going to see each other and always used their magic to mask the scent of the mating bond. If Rhysand knew- something really must’ve happened.

“Listen, I know something is wrong. All I can feel from her is panic and- and pain. I just-“ he let out a broken sigh, “I just need to see her. I need to see her.”

“Like hell.” Rhysand growled. Feyre approached him, putting a hand on his chest and guiding him away from the redhead.

“Rhys,” she spoke softly. “You and I both know what it is like being kept apart from your mate. Let him see her.” Rhysand looked at his mate and remembered the time she had been in the Spring Court with Tamlin. Remembered how awful it had been to feel the pain she had felt, the terror, and not be able to do anything about it. He let out a defeated sigh.

“Madja is just finishing up now. She um-they,”Rhysand’s voice broke before he could finish the sentence. “They took her wings.” Eris’s heart dropped. His beauty. His little fox. He didn’t know who did it but whoever they were- they were going to pay.

Rhysand began to walk in the direction of Y/n’s room, gesturing Eris to follow him. Nesta shook her head in disbelief before looking at Feyre knowingly.

“Is it an inappropriate time to say I told you so?”

Madja placed 2 containers on the nightstand next to Y/n’s bed before looking at Azriel who sat in a chair next to her. Though having been attended to by Madja for his wounds already, still looking mentally affected by what had occurred.

“This one is to be taken for pain and swelling and this one is to be applied to the wounds twice a day. Once in the morning and once before going to bed.” She then turned to Rhysand who appeared in the doorway. “If she needs more or if you have any concerns just send for me, dear.” She then bowed and made her way out the door.

Rhysand entered, giving Azriel a warning look before Eris stepped in hesitantly. The shadow singer stood abruptly, shooting a glare to Rhysand before looking harshly to the heir. But Eris paid no mind. He couldn’t really. Not when he couldn’t tear his eyes away from his mate, who lay on her stomach, a permanent look of pain etched onto her face.

“What is he doing here?” Azriel hissed at his High Lord. “He has no right to be here.”

“Spare me the dramatics, Shadowsinger.” Eris snarled. “It is no fault of mine that the mother didn’t choose you as her mate.” That struck a nerve in Azriel, who had pined after the princess for many years. Hoping that one day the bond he hoped to feel with her would snap into place. Whose heart had shred into a million pieces when he smelled the bond on her as she had let her guard down during those moments that her wings were being hacked off. Who had only hoped that it was unrequited.

“Fuck you.” Azriel spat. “She deserves more than the likes of you.” He took a step closer to Eris. The boys basically nose to nose huffing in anger. Rhysand, noticing Y/n stirring, pulled Azriel back and sent him a mental message to cool it for the sake of his sister. Azriel looked between Rhysand and Eris with a fury in his eyes before pushing his way out of the room.

Rhysand moved to kneel beside Y/n while Eris chose to stay behind, letting the siblings have their time together. Y/n blinked her eyes open and attempted to move before a pain radiated through her, making her wince.

Rhysand shot forward. “Don’t move too fast, sissy.” He helped Y/n move to her side. His emotions got the best of him for a moment. How could he let this happen? His baby sister, the only family he has left. She reached a hand up and rested it on his cheek, which he then reciprocated.

“I’ll be okay Rhysie.” She whispered, wiping a stray tear from his eye. She let her eyes drift behind him, noticing the all too familiar fiery red hair she had grown to love. Her eyes softened for a moment before they almost popped out of their sockets when she realized what him being here had entailed. She had remembered reaching out to him right before it had happened. Right before Hybern’s men had hacked into her wing, severing it from her body. She had also remembered that right before she passed out from the pain and from the blood loss, she had been too worn to mask the scent of her bond any longer.

“Yeah we’ll talk about that later.” Rhysand teased. He leant forward and placed a kiss on her forehead before turning out of the room and giving her and Eris time alone. Not before shooting him a warning glare. Eris smiled at his mate softly, walking towards her pulling the chair closer to her bed.

“Hello, little fox.” He spoke gently, grabbing her hand and lifting it to his lips. “Quite a scare you gave me, darling.” Though his attempt at teasing did make the corner of her lips lift up slightly, they began to tremble as the weight of the situation hit her full force.

“My wings,” she choked out. “They- they took my wings. They’re gone.” By the time she finished her sentence she had begun full out sobbing. Eris moved to her- maneuvering her the best he could without hurting her so that she could lean onto him while he held her. He stroked her hair, shushing her as she sobbed into his arms.

“I’m never going to fly again. I’ll never have races with my brother, I’ll never feel the wind in my hair, I will forever be grounded.” She cried.

“I know, my dear, I know.” He rubbed his hand up and down her arm, his free one reaching to wipe the tears off of her face. “I am so sorry I could not protect you.”

“It is not your fault.” Y/n stated, turning her head to look into his eyes.

“Perhaps not,” he started. “But I will forever wish I could have done something.” She gave him a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes, before leaning in and placing a soft kiss on his lips. She leaned her head onto his shoulders as they fell into a comfortable silence.

“Rhys didn’t hurt you did he?” She whispered a couple minutes later.

Eris chuckled. “Almost.” She rolled her eyes.

“Well I’m glad it didn’t end in a fight.”

“I’d fight armies for you, my darling.” He said dramatically. She giggled lightly, softly swatting his chest. He leaned his cheek onto the top of her head, gazing lovingly into her eyes. “I love you.”

She whipped her head to look at him. A look of awe dawned her face.

“Say it again.” She whispered. Eris smiled grabbing her chin and placing a deep kiss onto her lips.

“Y/n, princess of the Night Court, my darling mate, I love you. And even though I couldn’t admit it, I have loved you from the moment I saw you. From the moment you gave me a snarky remark and glared those beautiful violet eyes into mine. And one day, when all of this is over, we will have a wonderful ceremony, and I will make you my High Lady.” A gasp left Y/n’s lips. “And we will have beautiful babies. We wi have a happy life. And I will love you till my last breath.”

He waited a beat.“If that’s what you would like, of course.”

“I would love nothing more.”

[thelov3lybookworm]

A Little Gift

Summary: Being late to a date is unacceptable, unless, of course, the reason for the delay is so adorable.

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 1846

Warnings: none, just fluff and rhysie being an adorable brother 🥹

A/n: based on this request 😋 @knoxic BESITE I LOVED LOVED LOVEDDDDDD THIS IDEA OMG I LOVE THIS ONE SM HOPE U LIKE IT TOO🤭

ANYWAYS, ENJOYYYY!!!🥳🥳🥳

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"Y/n, baby, are you sure you want this?"

Y/n pouted up at her brother, nodding. "He’s very nice to me."

Rhysand sighed, rubbing his forehead. He had been sighing a lot the past week, Y/n noted, since she told him the new HIgh Lord of Autumn had wanted to court her. Y/n knew none of the members of the inner circle liked the news, she could see the disappointment and doubt on their faces clearly. And it had saddened her deeply to know she had let down her family, who had been nothing but kind and loving to her after her parents and sister had passed.

Rhysand had been so loving, taking up the role of a doting big brother so seriously that at times people confused him for her father.

Not that he could have ever been as caring as Rhysand was.

Out of the three siblings, Ophelia had been the loudest, the cheeriest. She would always smile, no matter what situation she was in. Then was Rhysand, loud, but quiet when needed to be. And then Y/n, who barely ever spoke if it wasn’t in front of her siblings or mother.

And then Rhysand and Y/n were suddenly the only ones remaining alive, and she had drawn in on herself more than ever. The first few months, Rhysand was too busy wallowing by himself and trying to take care of the court, thrust into the new role of the High lord without preamble, to notice.

When he had, he had cried, holding his only remaining family tight.

Since then, he had made sure to give Y/n all the attention in the world, never raising his voice at her, knowing she could be ripped away from him too. He did not want to hurt her, when she was the only person who really mattered. He gave her everything she asked or, never saying no to anything.

So Y/n had known when she told him about Eris, that he would not outright refuse to acknowledge their budding relationship, nor would he get mad at her.

But he would try to talk her out of making a grave decision, in his words, and Y/n did not mind it one bit.

"I can’t imagine him being nice, in any world." Rhysand mumbled under his breath, glaring holes into his shoes as he paused his pacing.

"Rhys, can’t you just give him one chance?"

"One chance to do what, angel? Break your heart?"

Y/n leaned back in the armchair she was sitting in, waiting for Eris to show up so the two could spend time together, as promised in the letters exchanged the week before. She picked at the soft fabric of the skirts of her shimmery dark orange silk dress, chewing on her lip, trying to come up with something to placate her panicking brother.

"Y/n, he's late. The male can’t even show up on time. How can I bring myself to trust him with you when he is keeping you waiting?"

Y/n glanced outside, then back in her lap. He was right. Eris was late. Not too much, of course, but late nonetheless. It didn’t bother Y/n. She knew of the problems and responsibilities that came with being a new high lord, having seen her brother go through the same experience her lover was going through. She knew how meetings and tasks came up and demanded your attention even when you didn’t have time for them.

But Rhys wasn’t as willing to be lenient as Y/n, it seemed.

Once again, he sighed, dragging his hands down his face and walking closer to Y/n. She sat quiet, watching him move to his knees in front of her, taking her hands in his.

"I just want you to be happy, Y/n. You are like my own baby, my child. I’ve seen you go through so much, so much pain, so many hardships, and I think you deserve to have a quiet, calm life where there’s no uncertainty. A life where you know you are loved, with someone who isn’t broken, who hasn’t been known to be hateful. I see Eris, Y/n, and I can tell his circumstances were not ideal enough for him to be able to afford being good, and I understand that. But what if his goodness now is overshadowed by his old habits? The things he’s been forced to do won’t leave him just like that."

Y/n’s eyes prickled as she nodded along, her grip tightening around her older brother’s hands. She understood what he was saying, of course she did. But that didn’t mean she wanted to accept it.

"I… I don’t-" Y/n paused, trying to understand what she even wanted to say.

"I’m not saying you shouldn’t court him, Y/n. Just- just be careful, yeah? Guard your heart until you are sure of his intentions."

Y/n nodded, leaning down to put her head on her brother’s shoulder. She blinked away the tears furiously while one of Rhys’s hands went around her, rubbing her back.

"Okay, enough emotional talk. Too much for my health."

Y/n huffed out a wet laugh, pulling away from Rhys to peer at Cassian, who pretended to gag and turned away.

"When did you come, Cass?"

"Yeah, why did you come, Cass?" Rhys stood, dusting off his pants and sneering at Cass, who offered him the kindest finger he owned.

"I came to see Y/n off. Where’s your mate?"

Y/n swallowed, glancing outside once more. "I don’t know."

His mouth dropped open in a show of exaggerated shock. "He’s making a lady wait? Absolutely horrendous."

Y/n shook her head, pushing to her feet, running her hands down her skirt. "It’s no big deal."

The next few moments passed quickly, as Y/n watched Feyre materialise in the doorway, Nyx and Nesta by her side. Then Azriel and Mor, and her brows furrowed. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for everyone to gather in the sitting room after breakfast on the holidays, lazing around until it was time for lunch, but… this gathering didn’t seem to be about that.

Were they all here to see her off?

Ridiculous busy bodies.

Before she could say anything about it, though, a knock drew her attention, and Y/n’s heart quickened, already predicting who it was.

But it was Rhysand, who hurried out to open the door.

"You’d think it was him going out with Eris." Y/n murmured, following him out into the foyer. Azriel made a noise of agreement, his arms folded across his chest as he walked behind her.

Y/n ignored his presence, pushing her jittery hands behind her hips, pressing her lips together before stepping fully into view of the door.

Eris wore a simple burnt orange dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbow and two buttons undone, showing off his, evidently, hard earned muscles. Dark brown slacks clung to his hips and thighs, matching with the dark brown long jacket he had draped over his shoulders.

Just the sight of him was enough to make Y/n drool. But she forced herself to look away, to focus on what her brother was saying.

"You understand me?" Rhys said his voice low, menacing.

Y/n didn’t even want to imagine what he was trying to make Eris understand.

"I understand-" Eris paused mid sentence, his eyes moving to rest on Y/n, widening ever so slightly. His gaze moved down to her toes, then back up again, snagging on her hair before meeting her eyes, offering her a small smile.

Rhys didn’t seem too bothered by Eris’s sudden lack of words, moving away from the doorway to grab Y/n’s long jacket before turning to her, waiting. Y/n hurried to put it on when her eyes fell to the way Eris held his hands behind his back. Almost as if he was as anxious to see her as she had been to see him.

"What took you so long?" Y/n pushed one arm through the jacket Rhys held open for her as Azriel prodded, curiously watching at Eris.

His cheeks turned a light shade of red, the freckles dotting his cheeks standing out.

"I, uh… had a little something come up."

Azriel raised a brow. "And that is?"

Eris glanced at Y/n, before clearing his throat. "I wanted to get her a gift."

"And did you?"

Y/n whipped her head to glare at the spymaster. "Azriel."

"No no, he has a point." Rhys said, resting his hands on Y/n’s shoulders.

Y/n sighed, exasperated, and pulled away from her brother. "Let’s go, Eris. Ignore them."

He smiled, the indent on his cheek making an appearance as he pulled his arms forward. In them, nestled, was a small, golden little pup, eyes wide yet drooping, a messy little red bow adorning its neck.

Instantly, Y/n’s heart melted, a soft gasp escaping her. Her focus zeroed in on the little thing, her brother and Azriel fading away into the background until all she could see were the innocent eyes, the small body, the soft fur and the wagging tail. She stepped forward as he extended his hands, letting the pup sniff the fingers she lifted to pet the little thing.

"What is this?"

"Your gift?" Y/n didn’t look up, but she could practically hear the look on his face.

"Eris- you didn’t have to." Y/n mumbled, feeling her brother peek over her shoulder at the animal she gently took into her own arms.

He shrugged. "I knew you liked cats but I couldn’t find a kitten so I just- got you him. I hope you like him." He paused for a moment, and Y/n could hear his smile when he spoke next. "He certainly seems to like you."

"Like him, Eris?!" She lifted her head and drew the animal close to her chest, her lower lip jutting out as tears gathered in her eyes. His eyes widened, a look of alarm crossing Eris’s face as his shoulders stiffened. "I love him!"

He exhaled a relieved breath, his small grin making an appearance again. "Well, I’m glad to hear that."

"Aren’t you supposed to go?" Rhysand questioned. When Y/n glanced at him, he didn’t even look up at her. His eyes were fixated on the whining pup.

Her eyes narrowed. "He’s mine."

Rhys rolled his eyes, reaching out to take the dog whose tail wouldn’t stop wagging. "Go on, it’s almost dinner time."

Y/n wanted to argue, but he was right. They were running late.

"See you later then." Y/n kissed her brother’s cheek, who simply waved her away, too busy cooing over the golden fur ball in his arms. She dropped a peck on his little head, too, before turning to Eris and pulling the door shut behind her, sighing.

His eyes twinkled as he extended his arm towards her, head tilted.

"Shall we?"

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[batboysanonymous]

Burn for Me

Eris Vanserra x Reader

Summary: Eris Vanserra never needed to stake his claim—not when the entire world could see the way you burned for him.

Continue reading below ⬇

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Autumn Court celebrations were always extravagant affairs—tables overflowing with the finest food, golden goblets brimming with spiced wine, and music so intoxicating it seemed to seep into your very bones. Tonight was no different. The ballroom shimmered under the glow of a thousand enchanted lanterns, the flickering lights catching in the ruby-red leaves woven through the towering arches.

But Eris Vanserra, the High Lord of Autumn, was not watching the festivities.

No, his attention was singular, sharp as a blade.

You.

Standing in the center of the dance floor, you looked like you belonged to this court, to this kingdom, to him. Draped in the finest silks, the deep crimson fabric clung to your curves, chosen by Eris himself because he knew exactly what would make every head turn when you walked into a room. The firelight cast an ethereal glow upon your skin, and the faintest of smirks played on your lips as you moved.

Eris loved watching you dance. He loved how effortlessly you glided across the floor, how unapologetically radiant you were. And he had never cared when you danced with others—Cassian, Azriel, even Lucien on occasion. Because at the end of the night, you always came back to him. Always let him be the one to press his lips to your wrist, to your throat, to the place where his mark hummed just beneath your skin.

But this—this was different.

The male at your side was not someone he knew, not someone who understood the weight of the bond tethering you to him. And Eris could see it. The way the stranger's gaze roamed, lingering too long on the curve of your hip. The way he leaned in, speaking words Eris could not hear over the music—but he didn’t need to.

He knew that look.

It was the look of a male who wanted what was not his to take.

Eris’s grip tightened around the goblet in his hand, the flames within him curling, licking at his skin. He should have expected this. You were stunning, magnetic—of course someone would try.

But that didn’t mean he had to tolerate it.

A muscle feathered in his jaw as the male placed a hand at the small of your back, guiding you in a slow turn. A touch that lasted half a second too long.

Eris was moving before he even realized it.

He crossed the ballroom with effortless grace, the hem of his scarlet cape billowing behind him. The crowd parted instinctively, sensing the shift in power, the searing heat that radiated from him like a warning.

You felt him before you saw him.

The weight of his presence wrapped around you, familiar and unmistakable. Then, warmth—his hand slipping around your wrist, his fingers curling against your pulse, staking a silent claim as he pulled you from your partner’s grasp.

A flicker of amusement danced in your eyes. “Eris.”

“My love.” His voice was smooth, but there was an edge to it, a barely leashed tension simmering beneath the surface.

The male beside you—utterly oblivious to his mistake—cleared his throat. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

Eris ignored him completely.

Instead, his fingers ghosted along your waist, skimming the fabric of your dress as if reminding himself that, yes, you were here. That, yes, you belonged to him. His lips brushed against the shell of your ear, low enough that only you could hear.

“Tell me, did he enjoy touching what’s mine?”

A shiver ran through you, not from fear, but from the promise in his words.

“Does it matter?” you murmured back, tilting your chin up in challenge. “You know who I belong to.”

Eris exhaled sharply, but it wasn’t enough to cool the fire licking at his spine. The stranger was still there, watching, waiting.

The fool.

Finally—finally—Eris turned his head to look at him. And the smile that curled his lips was anything but friendly.

“You should leave,” Eris said, his voice deceptively pleasant.

The male frowned. “I was just—”

“Leave.”

The air in the ballroom shifted, the warmth intensifying, the scent of cedar and embers thickening as Eris’s magic stirred. And the stranger—finally catching the warning in the High Lord’s gaze—muttered a quick excuse before all but fleeing.

Eris didn’t watch him go. He only watched you.

His fingers traced your jaw, tilting your face up to his. “Do you enjoy testing me, darling?”

Your lips curled in a smirk. “Maybe.”

His grip tightened, not painful, but firm. Possessive. “Then you’ll enjoy what comes next.”

With a flick of his wrist, he pulled you from the dance floor, leading you through one of the open archways onto the secluded balcony. The night air was cool against your flushed skin, but Eris was nothing but heat.

The moment the door clicked shut behind you, he pressed you against the stone railing, his body flush against yours.

“You drive me mad,” he murmured, his nose brushing the line of your throat.

“You’re the one who gets jealous,” you teased, your fingers threading through the fiery strands of his hair.

His teeth grazed your skin, a warning. “Not jealous. Protective.”

“Mm,” you hummed, tilting your head back to grant him more access. “That’s what they all say.”

Eris exhaled sharply, his hands gripping your waist. “Do you have any idea what it does to me, seeing another male look at you like that?”

You arched a brow. “Like what?”

“Like they think they have a chance.”

You laughed softly, tracing a lazy pattern along the collar of his tunic. “But they don’t.”

“No,” he agreed, his lips ghosting over yours. “They don’t.”

And then he kissed you.

It was not gentle. It was not sweet. It was fire and fury, heat and devotion, a promise etched into every movement of his lips, every flick of his tongue. He kissed you like he was staking his claim all over again, like he needed to remind you exactly who you belonged to.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were molten. “You are mine.”

You ran a teasing finger down his chest, tracing the embroidered crest of Autumn Court. “Always.”

Eris let out a breath, some of the tension finally bleeding from his shoulders. But his grip on you did not loosen. If anything, it tightened, as if he still wasn’t ready to let you go.

And you didn’t mind one bit.

Because at the end of the day, there was no need for jealousy. No need for possessiveness.

Not when he was the only one you burned for.

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[driedposies]

“My little Nepenthe,” {CHAPTER THREE: I Feel Them Drown My Name}

Chapter summary: A prophecy has been dreamed, and a plan has been made. Trust the fox and kill a King.

Warnings: Explicit language, sexual content in later chapter (18+ only!), violence, bodily injury, torture, character death.

Chapter lyric: "Grace" by Jeff Buckley

Word count: 4.9k

Notes: Taglist at the bottom.

Elain’s prophetic words of spring being the season of change had you in a continual state of worry. Feyre’s and your nephew, Nyx’s, almost death, and then Nesta’s forced participation in the Blood Rite.

Change had not finished running its course; that lingering premonition had Elain more often trapped in a haze of visions. It frightened you how she wilted like a flower without water, only adding to your continual anxiety and transforming your dried skin into blisters. 

A week after Nyx's birth, Feyre was finally joining family dinners again, and another after that, she was leaving the home to take walks. There was a small comfort that came from your sister's rapid healing. 

The new season was soon cusping to its full height, attesting to how fast time was suddenly passing. Your family visited your father to introduce his first grandchild, and three days later, the Inner Circle celebrated Nesta and Cassian’s mating ceremony. You wouldn’t see them for two weeks after that.

Anxiety was slowly easing away like water down a stream, and the constant reminder of Eris was no longer a raging fire, but a wisp of smoke. 

Upon your sister and brother-in-law’s return, Nesta practically glowed with happiness, and Cassian shared that same brightness. Family dinners resumed with a lack of tension, making sitting down with everyone no longer a dreadful experience. You still fussed over Elain as she continued to speak of her dreams of you and a fox.  

Laughs were shared, especially when Nyx stole everyone’s attention with a chortle of his own. Tonight was just the same, until Cassian sat beside Nesta, reaching for her hand with a mellowed expression. 

Rhys’ brows formed a line and Feyre’s focus perked upwards. 

Cassian only huffed. “Eris,” is all he states, and your gaze instantly flicks towards the Illyrian male upon the mention. “He wants another meeting. With everyone. It’s about his father and Koschei.”

You blinked with surprise. This was the first time they discussed anything political or a courtly issue with you and Elain present. 

“Everyone?” Rhys repeats back, starlight gaze raking over the table. 

Cassian nods his head once, his displeasure apparent. “He believes his father is taking a deal with Koschei into consideration. Says he’s ready to take him off of the board.”

Your mouth dries, tongue weighing heavy. They were discussing the usurpation of the Autumn Court throne. And by the look on Rhys’ face, it’s clear that those plans aren’t recent news. You finally begin to piece together Eris’s reasoning for his alliances with the Night Court. Eris was already garnering allies for the inevitable power shift. 

“Well,” Rhys drawls out, leaning his elbows onto the dinner table, “seems like it’s time to kill a king.”

Arguments were heard about your and Elain’s participation in this meeting with Eris. The Autumn male had made it clear he wanted this meeting with the entirety of the Inner Circle as to not have to worry about relaying information and risk the wrong ears hearing it. This split revealed that Eris was right—you were an outsider to a family circle.

But it was Elain who spoke up, a rare anger in her voice when she reminded everyone that you both were just as much a part of the Inner Circle as they all were. Upon Feyre's voice of agreement, the protests were put to rest. 

For the second time, you were standing on the grounds of Hewn City, the place just as dreary as when you last left it. You balled your right hand, remembering the lingering sting after your first confrontation with the male you’re about to be in the same room as. 

A heavy hand rests on the small of your back. “You don’t have to worry. He won’t be able to hurt you.”

You give Azriel a tight smile, nodding your head once despite the fact it wasn’t getting hurt you feared. It was that small piece of blackmail Eris still hung over your head, and this meeting was the perfect opportunity for him to dangle it.

Keir greeted your group, relaying that Eris had been seen to a suite already and had been awaiting the Inner Circle’s arrival. There was suspicion drawn in the male’s brow, but one wicked grin from Mor’s red-painted lips had him swallowing any questions.  

Eris was sat by the roaring hearth, relaxed in the lounge as he picked at his nails. You school yourself into a mask of seeming unperturbed, even when Eris’s amber gaze settled onto you first, a flash of great satisfaction sinking into his posture. 

Azriel angled himself in front of you from Eris’s view before he could open his mouth. You and Elain stood by the Shadowsinger in one corner of the room, while Cassian and Nesta took the other closest to the door. Rhys had Feyre take the other lounge chair opposing Eris, leaning over the backrest like a shadowed guard. Mor and Amren stood the furthest from the Autumn male.

“I’m unable to stay long, and we have much to discuss,” Eris drawled out, the sound raking claws down your spine. “I shall assume the brute has given you the brief?” He then asks, waving a deft hand at Cassian. Nesta scowls much to Eris’s current entertainment.     

“He has,” Rhys replies, cold eyes levelled onto Eris promising warning. “Your father’s choice of allies seems to be giving him more enemies.”

Eris’s lazied grin shifts into something more vexed. “So it seems,” he agrees, voice lowering. “This meeting has been a long time coming. Koschei is a threat that doesn’t need Autumn on its side against greater Prythian. It seems a terrible alliance is what it’s going to have to take for action to be made.”

You begin gnawing at the inside of your cheek. It was obvious that the death of Beron was something Eris had already thought extensively on. If you were just going from the tales you’ve heard about the current High Lord of Autumn, you couldn’t blame Eris. He was a tyrannical leader and an even worse father.

“The real question is how you’re going to play this,” Azriel speaks up, folding his arms over his chest, the motion pressing his left bicep into your shoulder. 

Eris’s eyes lingered on the contact, his jaw visibly tightening. “The Night Court may be the strongest in Prythian, but it’s all the courts together, allied, that makes the whole continent thrive,” Eris points out, eyes narrowing as he leans forward, the shadow from the flames deepening the contours of his high cheekbones. “My Father has been a thorn for every High Lord for over 500 years. So, no, this isn’t just about how I am going to play this. If it was, none of you would be here.”

A silence hung thick in the air as Eris’s words sunk in. For all of Eris’s poor qualities, he knew how to command a room. 

“You need our help,” Rhysand then points out, tilting his head. “The issue lies in how we’re going to be able to help without facing repercussions. I have a family to protect, and I do not need more targets on their backs.”

Eris licks his teeth as he considers his next words. “I have a family to protect too,” he finally says, voice weighted. “I just need to get him on his own to face him in a one-on-one duel. The issue is, is that he’s always around advisors, esteemed guests or a dozen guards. And, then there’s the problem of an excuse to take him on without facing charges of usurpation.”

Rhysand dampens his lips, and it’s clear by the long pause he and Feyre are speaking internally. 

“You have a suggestion?” Cassian asks, and similar to a mouse falling into a trap, Eris smiles like a hungry cat. 

“There is one thing that my father thoroughly enjoys and something that he wouldn’t question you being in and around Autumn for,” Eris begins, and you couldn’t help but fret his next words. “A wedding.”

“You cannot be still serious about Nesta?” Feyre states, that controlled anger evident in her features. 

Cassian makes a low growling sound, baring his teeth like he was prepared to take a chunk out of Eris’s throat. Nesta looks like she is about to speak up next when Eris scoffs. 

“No. It wouldn’t work, anyhow. You can smell the mating bond within a 10-mile radius,” Eris sneered as if the scent repulsed him. “I suggest a long period of courting to bypass the laws of betrothal, but you’ll be allowed to come and go without much hindrance.” 

Another silence took hold of the room, the next question being who would be the one to stick their necks out. Amren, Mor and Feyre were already out of the question, and by what Eris just pointed out, that also included Nesta. 

You then finally register why Eris requested to have the entire Inner Circle present, and it wasn’t to alleviate the risk of these plans reaching the wrong ears. Straightening your back, you finally meet Eris’s lingering gaze and the silent inquiry. 

A hand grips yours, and you turn to Elain with a drop of concern. Her warm brown eyes were bright, giving you that same look she did when speaking about her dreams. Your lips part when she squeezes your fingers, cocking her head towards Eris. You follow her line of vision to Eris’s mahogany doublet, the soft fabric stitched with beautifully handcrafted golden embroidery. From a distance, they looked like just intricate swirls. But on closer inspection, on the right of his chest, the lining formed a fox. 

You raise your gaze to meet Eris’s, his grin once again a promise for something sordid. Elain releases your hand, and you finally understand what she is telling you. 

“I’ll do it,” your voice cuts through the silence, and every pair of eyes falls onto you. “I’ll be the one to… pretend to be courted by Eris.”

By your offering alone, a new argument sparked in the room. But Eris remained unbothered. He had gotten what he came to achieve. 

“You don’t have to go through with this.”

Azriel leaned over the fireplace banister, watching you with concern lining his whiskey eyes. He’d been repeating the same sentiment of choice over the last few weeks of arrangements being put in motion. But it only felt like it came from an unfounded belief in your weakness. 

You may not know how to wield a sword or have the heart to kill, but that makes you anything but weak. 

“I want to do this,” you say, voice more committed than the last time you told him. “You’ve all done so much for me. This… Koschei is a threat to all of us, and if I can alleviate one problem by just acting like a woman falling in love, then I’ll do it.”

Another line appeared between Azriel’s brows as he looked upon you with fervent worry. He then pushes off the banister, and you stand up straight too, watching as he draws close to you. The shadowsinger stood a few breaths away, and you had to tilt your head back to look him in the eye.

“Our generosity was by our own volition. There is no debt to be paid,” Azriel murmurs, voice soft yet firm in his affirmation. 

You chew the inside of your cheek before looking down and away. Two scarred hands rest on the crook of your shoulders, calloused thumbs pressing on the underside of your jaw to force you to look back up. You swallow thickly at the contact, a whole leap and bound compared to the small brushes against your hands and back. 

Staring with a widening gaze, Azriel looks at you with determination. “You do not owe us your life,” he says, tone a forced whisper. “The Autumn Court is nothing like Valeris. It’s cutthroat and ruthless. It will not be just Beron you have to worry about. It will be every fae who would kill for just an ounce of power,” Azriel warns like it almost pains him to admit it. 

Azriel didn’t need to say it—if you had Eris to go by, you could only imagine the political climate to create such an individual. 

“I know what I’m putting myself into,” you state, bringing your hands up to wrap around his wrists. You lend a supporting smile. “When I was still human, and before I lived in a village, I was within high society. I was taught how to behave in such settings. And… I’ll have Eris.”

Something twists in Azriel’s expression at the mere mention of Eris. He, along with everyone else, made it clear they didn’t like your only support being Eris. And whilst you sometimes got the urge to openly defend him, say that you felt like you could trust him, you didn’t want to be ridiculed with questions. No one needed to know about the dress box currently collecting dust underneath your bed. 

Azriel shakes his head a little as if rejecting your claim. “You know why I don’t trust Eris to keep you safe,” he affirms, running his thumbs gently down the expanse of your neck until he reaches the bone of your shoulders. 

You were aware—Mor made sure you wouldn’t forget the weeks following the private meeting with Eris. You still wanted to question them all about what you had found in the library; bring up what they conveniently left out in the story. But from the look in Azriel’s eyes, it would only espouse an argument. You didn’t want to leave on a negative note. So, you tighten your expression and nod once in understanding. 

“I know,” you reply softly, squeezing Azriel’s wrists. “But he’ll have much to lose without keeping me safe.”

In one hour, you will be holding Feyre’s hand and be winnowed from Valeris to the Moonstone Palace, before meeting Eris to be taken directly to The Forest House. A welcoming hearing will be had, but as Nesta had crudely put it, it will most likely be Rhys and Beron showing off their power with tape and measure. 

Eris had already put a story in place on how you and he met, and how overcome with infatuation he became for the second Made sister. You had crossed paths after the war with Hybern, a lie, and after began exchanging letters and poems, a half-truth that you knew also served as a reminder of your misdeeds—the manipulative bastard.  

You were now packing away your few belongings with Elain, who sat and watched you warily as you fit things into a single leather case. 

“Remember what I’ve told you,” Elain says as you pass by her, folding the pair of lace gloves Azriel had gifted you on Winter Solstice into your luggage. “Your fox will be there to guide you; listen to him. Trust the crow. Be careful what you tell the raven.”

You let out a soft sigh, pausing your movements. Looking over at Elain, you allow yourself to feel the ounce of worry she is displaying. Elain’s eyes were clear, but her hands trembled with nervous energy. 

Whilst you didn’t understand fully what Elain was mumbling about most of the time, you listened and considered. “Okay,” you murmur, standing by her, cupping her cheek and offering a smile. “I want you to be careful too. Look after yourself. And… don’t be afraid to talk to someone. To Feyre or Nesta. I know your dreams aren’t always amiable.”

Elain’s expression visibly softs as she holds her hand over your own, taking in the warmth of your palm through the cotton glove. “We may all be sisters, but our journeys were never meant to be done together.” Your lips curve into a frown as Elain releases your hand, pulling it down from her face. “Spring is the season of change. But they say Autumn is the season of growth.”

After a long pause, Elain ushers you to continue your packing. The quiet was terse and almost weighted, your sister’s words reminding you more that you won’t be surrounded by allies and family anymore. The only one you can rely on is Eris. The thought made your stomach roll in mild bitterness. 

With a final sweep of your room, you pause, staring at the underside of your bed. Then, at the bedsheet you had placed over your desk. You sigh, reaching for the dress box from under your bed, opening the lid and piling all the letters into your hands. Before Elain could ask what you were doing, you threw the papers into the fire. You watch as the evidence burns away. 

“You should wear this.” Elain’s voice had you whirling around, eyes wide as you caught her holding up the choker, the orange crystals glowing from the firelight. “It will suit the dress you are wearing,” she adds, nodding to the gown hanging by your closet.  

You sigh; unable to say anything against her idea lest you’re questioned about your reasoning. Elain was right—the necklace would suit the dress and the court you were about to make your mark in. The carnelian and gold would shine against the night black. 

Perhaps it was time to accept that the necklace would be the first of many Autumn pieces you will have to wear. And, more than likely, wear the first of many gifts from the heir of Autumn himself. 

You stood within the grand entrance of the Moonstone Palace. Azriel and Nesta stuck to your sides, as Rhysand, Feyre and Cassian situated themselves closest to the double doorway. The rest of the Inner Circle remained in Valeris for purposes of protection and keeping things in line for the few hours the High Lord and Lady weren’t present. You understood that there were better reasons, at least for Mor, for why they all weren’t coming.

Eris was to arrive at any moment now. He was going to be the one to escort you into the throne room and present you to his father. There would be formal requests to be allowed to court you, but that was all for show. Eris knew Beron would see the opportunities in his son marrying a Cauldron Made fae and the illusions of garnering Night Court influence. 

The faux story was about to be put into stone and you wouldn’t be able to back out. One fatal mistake, one wrong word or mannerism could crush this political scheme. The price for being found was higher than what you could imagine. You began to feel the weight of responsibility when the air shifted and Rhys bristled. 

“He is here,” is all Rhys needs to state, before the doors are opened to reveal the man you are to pretend to fall in love with.  

You suck in a sharp breath through your nose the moment you meet a wicked amber gaze. Eris stood tall and walked with purpose, but had an edge that spoke that he wasn’t uncomfortable or shy about the situation he was coming into. He wore his usual maple and burnt orange colour palates, yet was with black embroidery work instead of the familiar gold. It seemed Eris was already interweaving this narrative into romantic symbolism. 

“Eris,” Rhys spoke his name in greeting, a low sound of warning as he surveyed the Autumn male.  

Eris replied with a simple nod, eyes never straying from you. “We mustn’t loiter. Beron is already… anxious about your arrival,” he says, before finally giving the High Lord of Night and his Lady a glance. 

Rhys nods his head once in understanding as Nesta releases your hand. Eris shifts his focus back onto you, and the sly look returns. He strides up to you, that scent of spiced cinnamon and sandalwood curling around you in a warm embrace. Azriel stiffens for a moment as if preparing for something. Eris merely gives the Shadowsinger an indignant huff. 

Eris’ eyes rake over your dress in clear assessment. From what Nesta had told you, other than being black, it was made with Autumn Court fashion in mind. Long lantern sleeves, draping chiffon fabric that bunches at your waist to give the appearance of a half-fitted corset and the familiar gold embellishments of vines and thorns. His gaze settles on your neck for a longer pause, before meeting your stare with a question flickering in his expression. 

You swallow, squaring your shoulders and tilting your head up, masking your unease with fierce confidence. Eris’s smile deepens when he takes your gloved hand in his. “Ready to put on a show, dearest?” He asks, and you must force away a scowl at the persistent nickname he picked up. 

“As I’ll ever be,” you respond, letting your hand be guided to rest on the crook of Eris’ elbow. You ignore the warmth his body exuded and how it settled into your cold bones—you wouldn’t allow yourself to recognise this odd comfort. 

“Good,” Eris states, guiding you after Rhys and Feyre. “Now, I must tell you, as I’m sure your little circle have not. Autumn is not as… lax as Night Court. Do not speak unless spoken to, curtsy the moment those of superior rank address you—you do know how to do that?”

You scoff as you hear your sister and the two Illyrian warriors behind you grumble curses. “Do not fret, Eris. I know how to behave in the presence of high society,”  you retort, much to Eris’s chagrin. He wouldn’t make your time together outside of this scheme pleasant. Two could play that game.

“This is more than just high society, dearest,” Eris then tuts, resting his other hand over the one you rest on his elbow, halting your walking. He shifts his torso to face you, gazing down at you through his nose with something clouding his usual arrogance. “You will be watched even when you think you are in the privacy of your chambers.”

You felt yourself blanch for a moment before you school and accept calm over your features. “I understand,” you affirm with a nod. 

“It is time to go,” Rhys calls over his shoulder, also finished giving Feyre his small words of advice and comfort for what was about to happen. 

Eris gives a grin that would make any man sneer in response. As you prepare yourself to be winnowed, he leans down to your ear.

“If this is going to work, you’re going to need to trust me,” he whispers, turning the skin on your neck into gooseflesh. “Squeeze my arm thrice if you need a quick escape.”

You were shrouded in darkness before you could say a word.

Where the city of Vaerlis felt like a darkly hidden chalice of all things precious, the Autumn Court felt like a continuous breath of fresh air. Arm in arm with Eris, you were welcomed to the sites of The Forest House; a sprawling complex carved into trees and rocks. The plantation burnt by autumn shook with regal ease. Garlands of gold and sepia fluttered with the continual cool breeze, and for a moment, you looked over your shoulder to the view behind you. A stone staircase arched and weaved in multiple directions, and overflowing from various sources, were waterfalls.

It was beautiful; enough to seize your breath from your chest for a few moments. You could stare from a window for hours and see something new. 

A deep chuckle beside you pulled you from your reverie, and you met the warmly amused fixture of Eris. “Keep your head forwards, lest you trip over your feet on the way up,” he jests.

You huff a sigh, remembering what Azriel and Eris told you about this place—you will have to school an expression of adoration towards the Autumn male no matter the situation. Fine; so you will play the part. But with your forced smile, you’ll still bite back. 

“Well, aren't I fortunate to then have a capable man to catch me if I fall,” you sarcastically retort and paired with your undermining grin, you watch as Eris’s features tighten. Amusement shoots through your system when he looks away, signing his defeat. Perhaps this back-and-forth won’t be so terrible after all.  

The Forest House within was certainly no mere house. The main keep rises at the heart of this fortress, its pillars crowned with roofs of burnished copper. Windows were framed by dark oak, the glass catching the reflections of the firey foliage outside. Each hallway was decorated with woollen tapestries, depicting scenes of hunts and faerie creatures. Almost every inch of this place was carved with acorn and ivy motifs; warm in its imitation of a welcoming aura. Yet, it was hard to disregard the foreboding mysteries and ghosts it attempted to hide away. 

Where the Night Court was open in its wickedness, the Autumn Court concealed it under centuries of fortified locks and keys.

Four stationed guards were at the end of one hallway with two large double doors, and you swallowed your growing anxiety. You didn’t need to ask to know you were now striding towards the Throne Room, where the man Eris is plotting to murder awaits. 

Azriel’s offering of escape shadows you as you feel Eris’s arm squeeze yours. You look at the male through your peripherals and you notice his raised brow. Despite coming this far already, standing at the doors as the guards trade murmurs towards the one who will announce your arrival, Eris gave you one last out. 

You steel your expression and turn your gaze forward as the doors open. 

There were a few Folk who were gathered within to witness this presentation and declaration of courtship. Three men were easy to identify as Eris’s brothers; all sharing the familiar fire-kissed hair, amber stare, and pale skin smattered with freckles and marks. Each is similar in appearance, but wholly different in deposition. There were four other faerie beings, council members you assumed. 

Upon the dais stood the Lady of Autumn, her mane of auburn curls loose, glowing with a faint smile of pride. And upon his golden chair, two steps above his wife, lounged the High Lord of the Autumn Court, Beron Vanserra. 

He was not what you envisioned—a man who did not look remotely close to any of his children. Beron was beautiful like every other High Fae; brown hair combed with grey, cheeks rough with stubble, and a few ridged lines formed by cruelty. He looked neither pleased nor upset, more like he was in a constant state of irritation. 

Perhaps he was, however. He was made to welcome Rhysand and Feyre into his court as honoured guests despite his hatred of the Night and was to home one for the foreseeable future. Yet unlike Morrigan, no magical laws bind you hereafter Eris’s touch.

“Beron,” Rhysand greets with a grin and a small bow. A symbol of begrudging amenability. 

A smirk that didn’t touch Beron’s eyes lifts. He does not bow his head in return. “Rhysand. A pleasure to have your presence within our home,” his voice echoes throughout the hall. His gaze then shifts to you, and the hair on your neck stands on end. “And a pleasure it is to see my eldest son take an interest in something other than court politics and hounds.” 

You nod your head in agreement with Beron’s words, allowing a demure smile to bloom across your lips. Eris shifts his weight and you peer up at him. He was already looking down at you with warmed eyes. 

Rhysand’s voice breaks your reverie. “I’ve already conferred with Eris about how my mate’s sister will be regarded in your court for the length of their courting,” he affirms, unwavering by Beron’s tightening expression. You could almost feel the silent battle between them—how the air around you vibrated as night clawed with fire. 

“Has he now?” Beron’s attention settles on Eris, and you feel him stiffen. You squeeze his arm and he forces his posture to relax. 

“He has.”

Despite Eris’s agreements beforehand, Beron gestures for Rhysand to lay out his terms and conditions. 

“This is mere courting between two individuals—there are no bindings that shall keep her from returning to my court,” Rhys begins. You blink and swallow thickly, tucking away the fact he knew of that law. 

Beron nods his head in acceptance. “Until Eris proposes and she accepts,” he speaks as if it were a threat. 

Rhysand continues. “I expect she’ll receive the hospitality she deserves by her standing as my sister-in-law. But, to assure there have been no troubles, I’ll have my Spymaster come through at the end of each week.”  

Beron visibly bristles, cocking his head as he feigns deep contemplation. “Anything else?” He drawls out, already exasperated and bruised. 

“That is all.”

Everyone holds their breaths as Beron mulls over Rhysand’s conditions. Beron then grins; a wicked thing. “Well, I see no issues in your wishes. I would be delighted to host your sister-in-law in favour of Eris’s proclaimed affection for her.”

The final nail in your coffin had been aligned and hammered in. The only way to get out now was to trade your body for the High Lord of Autumn’s.

Taglist

@rcarbo1 @kk191327 @huffleruffplant @seassttar

[gamarancianne]

Okay so hear me out : I think that having a relationship with Eris isn’t always easy (as you imagined) but even after Beron (🤮) and after the Autumn court starts to become a safer place.

I feel like sometimes, he would be really sexist but not because he wants to. Like he threw a really hurtful remark towards you because of the fact that you’re a woman, or didn’t tell you about something because you just couldn’t understand, again because you’re a woman, but doesn’t think so much of it since he was raised in a mysogyne household and court and that was how he learned to treat women. So you’re just stopping in your tracks and being like “what? I’m sorry what did you just say about me and women in general ?”.

And he wouldn’t even understand what you’re upset about, because it wasn’t meant to be harmful, it was just “normal” for him. And it would take a lot of time, since 500 years of education and beliefs can’t disappear in a blink of an eye, but thanks to you and his mother, he would learn to undo all of what he internalised all his life.

(I can do a little drabble or head cannon over this if you want just let me know)

((And don’t hesitate to send me request of little drabbles or head cannons ideas since I can’t seem to accept nor like what I write for long stories 😄))

(((Or even if you just want to chat)))

[azsazz]

Scorched & Scarred

Eris x Reader

Summary: You are the only healer that Eris has ever really trusted.

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, wounds, blood, gore, scarring, angst.

Word Count: 1680

_________________________________________

You don’t say a word when he appears in your room, swaying in his spot.

You can’t. For one, he won’t hear of it. Wouldn’t deign to respond with merely a grunt of acknowledgement should you bring his state up. He doesn’t want your help, except that he does. He doesn’t want your sympathy, but he has it. He hates it. He hates that he loves it.

Today, is a particularly bad day.

You bite back the gasp in your throat when you blink through the bleariness of sleep. His head is hung toward the ground and he’s hugging himself so tightly that for a moment, you fear that he’s holding his insides in his hands. Even still, you don’t miss the blood dribbling from his nose. Or is it spilling from a split in his lip? Crawled up his throat from his lungs? Nothing would surprise you. There’s a gash on his forehead, like the one he received weeks ago, splitting his brow in two.

“Eris,” you breathe, throwing back your sheets. There’s a bite of cold as your toes hit the floor that you don’t register. You’re already halfway to him, arms outstretched, worry struck across your face.

He flinches. You halt, remembering who it is that has come to see you. The abused eldest son of the Court of Autumn with an affinity for pain.

You need to be gentle.

You need to be you.

You can’t approach him quickly. You can’t set your hands upon his bruised and banged skin until he’s ready, until his breathing has evened out. You can see the way he’s freaking out, the terror behind those amber eyes. He knows exactly who you are, but his father’s threats hang in his head like a broken record, taunting him, telling him not to seek a healer.

Should his father find out he crawled into your chamber like the pathetic male he thinks he is, his punishment will be even worse.

You wait patiently; a gentle hand offered like he’s a scared dog. You know the drill: wait until Eris allows you to touch him, and then you may begin your healing. It doesn’t matter how much fear seeps into your own expression the longer you wait, Eris takes his time finding his footing before reaching his trembling fingers out and placing his hand in yours.

You’re desperate to squeeze him like a lifeline, but you must keep your touch gentle. You slowly guide Eris to the foot of your bed where you help him sit before assessing his wounds. His face is mottled with cuts and bruises. There’s a tear in the shoulder of his silky, olive-colored shirt, the fabric clinging to the wound that oozes blood.

You swallow back the emotion that seizes your throat.

Your hands are tepid against his cheeks. Your power trickles through his body like magma, warming him to his bones. He clenches his amber eyes shut and bites back a whimper, not of pain, but because he hasn’t felt an embrace like this since the last time he was in your arms. He steels himself so he doesn’t careen into your hips where he can rest his head and wrap his trembling hands around your legs to pull you close.

Eris hasn’t been touched this softly in a long time.

In fact, you’re the only one to ever see him like this. Well, besides his father and the fae sadist he sometimes uses to dole out his punishments. You know every cut, laceration, broken bone he’s ever had. You’re the only one he trusts to heal him.

He can feel the words you want to say, the ones you’re keeping locked in your chest. Your hands are soft as they trail down his back, tender, as if your featherlight touch will do anything to stop the intense pain that burns through his body like a lance. Every single touch is a new wound to his skin, another blade dragging down the length of his spine, a stab of something he’s never experienced plunging into his heart.

Eris holds in a scream.

“Say it,” he grits when his tongue can form the words. The pain ebbs slowly, much too slowly for his liking. He sits before you, a broken prince. If his father knew where he crawled off too after the punishments that he received, you’d surely get the same treatment, and Eris can’t fathom the thought of you experiencing anything close to what has been done to him. He can’t even stand when you hit your elbow on the edge of your dresser or when you bite your tongue when he brings you lunch when you’re knee deep in work. Because fae heal quicker than humans, his father expects Eris to continue his days in debilitating pain until the wounds close on their own. Until he learns his lesson.

He trembles when your fingers brush over the bruises on his cheeks, moving fully away from the freckled skin of his back. The wounds are healed over the best you can manage, but there is no fixing the scars that run long lines down his back, from when he was a boy, from before you were a healer.

Your breath stalls in your throat at the same time Eris captures your wrists in his hands, halting your movements. There’s a cut in his lip, across the bridge of his nose that has shifted out of place. Both of his eyes are painted with dark circles beneath them, but they shine amber with anger.

“Say. It.”

You shake your head softly, gently pulling from his grasp. You brush your thumb across his lip, watching intently as the skin knits back together. Eris’ eyes flutter and you catch the painful bob of his throat, the one that makes him grimace and his lashes clump with wetness. “I won’t.”

“You must.

So, it is with a voice shaky with fear that you murmur your worries aloud, “He will kill you next time.”

You admission is like a breath of relief to Eris. He exhales harshly but doesn’t drop the one wrist his fingers are still wrapped around. Of course, you tell him this every time he visits you, and with his appearances to your private quarters for healing become more frequent, it’s only a matter of time until he’s so harmed that you won’t be able to bring him back.

“He won’t,” he says, and it doesn’t even sound like he believes it. He has six brothers. Six heirs to the throne. Six replacements.

You shake your head to yourself, quickly wiping the tear that rolls hot down your cheek before Eris sees.

Your warmth is much different than his. It’s soft, a reassurance against his skin. Healing. The fire that flares through his veins is of something much coarser. He is fueled by hatred and jealousy. Disappointment and failure.

Nothing has ever been easy. Eris keeps his feelings locked up tight. He has learned under the sharp blade of a knife poised beneath his chin. What they didn’t know is that harsh words they sprung cut deeper than any weapon ever could.

Your words are…he doesn’t know how to explain what the minute tremble of fear in your voice means. He stopped being fearful a long time ago, but here you are, fearing for him. That one day they might go too far, might cut his tongue from his mouth or pierce an eye out with the tip of a blade. Like they might let their restrain snap and become the bloodthirsty beasts he always knew they were. That they’ll kill him one day soon.

The way your hands feel against his skin makes emotion clog his throat. He has never felt a touch speak so many words. He’s never been treated softly. He’s been ignored by his mother and abused by his father. Neglected by both.

He doesn’t understand the way you make him feel. The clenching of his stomach, the rapid beating of his heart, the feeling that stirs between his legs when he sees you.

He wonders for a moment how your warm hands might feel wrapped around a different part of his body.

Eris closes his eyes. The tension rolls from his shoulders with each wound that heals. His head bobs and he can’t help but slump into you as the adrenaline wears off and exhaustion weights heavy on his body.

You catch him, cradle him against your body. Your fingers find his auburn hair and rub lightly.

Eris moans against your legs and the feeling vibrates through your body. You carefully keep your thighs from clenching.

“Eris,” you whisper, stroking every part of him that you can. Someday you’ll be brave enough to tell him how he makes you feel. How strong you think he is, how badly he should leave this court and not look back. For now, the terrified feeling in your chest stops you from admitting just that. “You need rest.”

“Stay?” He asks, and a sad smile cracks your lips. He barely even knows where he is, that you haven’t found him bleeding on the floor of his room and are patching him up. All he knows is the caring cradle of your arms.

“Yes,” you murmur, and help him lean back into the spot where you’d leapt from your bed upon his arrival. You help him with his shoes, his belt and the scabbard at his hip, sans weapons.

They always take his weapons.

A noise of surprise catches in your throat when Eris’ hands close around your hips and he yanks you into the plush bed with him. He’s already half asleep, fully clothed, and he releases you just enough for you to slip under the sheets and pull them up around the both of you. By the time you settle, Eris is clinging to you like a lifeline, a thigh tucked between your legs, his arms a vice around your back. You’re entrapped in his limbs, exactly where he wants you. Exactly where you want to be.

[surielstea]

Embers Entwined

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader was one of the most affected by Beron’s rule, after his death Eris was crowned High Lord and Reader became his personal servant by extension, what happens when she begins to recognize Eris for his kindness and not his cruelty?

Warnings: Beron being a right asshole as usual, and some kissing (*gasp* the scandal!)

A.Note: Sorry it’s been forever!! This one took me awhile but I’m pretty happy with it. Hope you guys enjoy too! Some Azriel smut coming out in a few days also! 💋💋

Word count: 7.9k

The ball was decadent, far grander than in previous years, though I supposed tonight warranted the excess. A special occasion, one that carried far more meaning than the usual frivolous gatherings meant only to remind the rich of their own wealth.

Tonight, the Autumn Court celebrated the coronation of Eris Vanserra. More importantly to me, we celebrated Beron's death.

I would never say such a thing aloud, never give voice to the hatred that simmered in my veins. But I knew I was not alone in my sentiments. Most despised that wretched male—just not enough to ever act against him. Beron had been cruel, but only to those within his grasp. His wife. His sons. His staff. Me, in particular—his personal courtier.

It had been my duty to obey him without question, to smile and nod and endure, no matter what vile thing he asked of me. The words he'd spoken to me, the way he'd toyed with me, broken me, forced me into submission—I would never find peace after him. I knew that.

I stood against the wall of the ballroom, my hands clasped in front of me, a pleasant, vacant smile painted on my lips. The same as always. My black dress marked me as staff, distinguishing me from the nobles twirling beneath the golden glow of the chandeliers. It wasn't an ugly dress—not physically—but the symbolism it carried made my stomach churn.

I was meant to be invisible. To stand for hours, heels biting into my feet, lips aching from feigned delight, waiting. Always waiting for the High Lord's command. That was my place.

But tonight, for the first time at an event like this, someone spoke to me. Not just someone. The newly crowned High Lord.

"Do you not wish to dance?"

His voice was smoother than I expected, rich and effortless, as though the words required no thought. When I turned my head, Eris Vanserra stood before me, resplendent in his deep forest green attire, gold-threaded embroidery glinting beneath the chandeliers. Rings adorned his fingers, catching the light as he gestured vaguely toward the center of the ballroom.

I had known Eris Vanserra since I was a girl—back when my father served as Beron's personal courtier and I trained under him, shadowing his every move. In those early years, Eris and I spent countless hours in the kennels, where I had been sent to feed the hounds, and he had sought my company. Even then, I knew better than to refuse a Vanserra. But it hadn't felt like an order. Not when he spoke so passionately about his dogs, his amber eyes alight with something rare and unguarded.

I had listened, quietly captivated, as he ran his hands through thick fur, naming each hound like they were something precious, something his father could not tarnish. And though I rarely spoke, I knew he never minded.

But time had a way of reshaping things. Our duties grew heavier, our paths diverged, and whatever thread had once tied us together frayed beneath the weight of expectation. I often wondered if he remembered—the girl who once sat beside him in the straw-covered kennels, listening in rapt silence as he spoke of things he loved. Or if I had faded into nothing more than a ghost of his childhood, long forgotten.

I snapped back to the present when I realized my hesitation, startled by his presence, by his question. By him.

I glanced at him only briefly before averting my gaze. I had long since learned better than to expect kindness from the Vanserras, Eris or not. "I'm working, my lord," I answered smoothly, forcing the usual mask into place. "Besides, the late Lord Beron was always particular about the servantry enjoying themselves at these sorts of things."

A flicker of something crossed Eris's face at my words. Perhaps it was amusement, perhaps something else. I wasn't certain. Then, he did something I never would have expected. He extended his hand to me, palm up. A silent command. I stared at it, my heart stuttering.

Was this a trick? A test? Was he waiting for me to disobey so he could remind me of my place? "Well," he mused, tilting his head, "I'm not Beron, am I?"

I swallowed thickly, but I did not take his hand. His amber eyes gleamed as he studied me, something unreadable lurking beneath their molten depths. "You were my father's personal courtier, yes?"

"Correct, my lord."

"And now that he's gone, you're mine." A statement, not a question.

I nodded.

"And you're required to do as I say."

Another nod.

"Then take my hand." His voice was softer now, quieter. "Dance with me." My breath caught in my throat. I hesitated. Was he attempting to humiliate me?

I had seen what his brothers were capable of, how they had reveled in Beron's cruelty, how they had wielded it against others for their own entertainment. I had heard the stories about Eris—his ruthlessness, his ambition, his callous disregard for those beneath him. I had no reason to believe he was any different.

Yet something about the way he stood there, hand still outstretched, gaze unwavering, made my stomach tighten. He wasn't forcing me. He wasn't demanding. He was patient. I hated him for that. For making me doubt my own certainty.

But in the end, I had no choice. With a deep inhale, I placed my hand in his. His fingers curled around mine—warm, steady. Not gripping. But I knew better than to believe in illusions.

Eris Vanserra was his father's son. And I would never trust him.

The moment my hand settled in his, a hush seemed to fall over the space around us—not total silence, but a ripple in the atmosphere, a shift in attention that pressed against my skin like a physical thing.

They were watching. The nobles, the courtiers, the sycophants who had spent years learning to fear and obey Beron, and by extension, his eldest son. They watched, likely waiting for me to make a mistake, waiting to see what game Eris Vanserra was playing.

I was waiting, too. But if this was some cruel trick, he did not let it show.

Eris led me toward the dance floor with unhurried ease, his grip firm but not forceful. A reminder, perhaps, that I was following him willingly. I didn't know what unsettled me more—that he had given me a real choice, or that, despite knowing better, a part of me wanted to believe he truly meant no harm.

The moment we stepped onto the floor, the nearest dancers shifted subtly away, giving us space without making it obvious. No one wanted to be caught in the High Lord's wake, in whatever he was planning.

He turned to face me, releasing my hand only to settle one warm palm against my waist, the other clasping mine once more. I stiffened beneath his touch, the weight of it burning even through the fabric of my dress.

"Relax," he murmured, amusement curling through his tone. "It's a dance, not an execution."

I forced my muscles to remain neutral, my expression placid, though I could still feel the weight of a hundred gazes searing into me. "That remains to be seen."

His lips curved slightly. "If I wanted to make a spectacle of you, I'd have chosen something far more dramatic." He guided me into movement, a slow, fluid step that I had no choice but to follow. "But I much prefer this."

I nearly scoffed, but reeled in my tone, replacing it with a polite one. "Dancing?"

His gaze flickered down to mine, something unreadable within it. "Yes," he admitted, voice quieter now. "It's one of the few things I enjoy."

I arched a brow at him, skepticism bleeding into my tone. "Truly?"

"Truly." A small pause, then, "My mother taught me."

His hold on my waist remained steady, his movements effortless as he guided me through the waltz. "She used to say that knowing how to dance was just as important as knowing how to wield a blade. Both would assist me on a battle field."

I couldn't stop the flicker of surprise at his admission. Not because I doubted his mother's wisdom—if anything, I had always pitied the Lady of Autumn, the horrors she must have endured under Beron's rule—but because I had not expected Eris to share something so personal.

And yet, before I could decide how to respond, he added, "It was the one thing Beron couldn't take from me."

I swallowed, focusing on my movements, on the way his body angled just to keep me steady, to keep the dance seamless.

He was watching me closely, I could feel it. I hated that I could feel it.

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked, my voice quieter than before, as if the words might shatter between us.

His lips twitched, though there was something different in his expression now. A quiet sort of challenge. "Because you're expecting me to be my father."

I stiffened.

"I'm not," he continued, tone smooth, unwavering. "And I think you already know that."

I bit the inside of my cheek, forcing down the retort that sat at the edge of my tongue. I wanted to deny it.

Wanted to tell him he was wrong, that I had no reason to believe him, that I had no reason to trust him. That, after what I had endured, I had no space left in me for blind hope. But I couldn't. Because, for the first time, I allowed myself to see him—not the heir of Beron Vanserra, not the male who had stood by and done nothing while his father ruled with malice, but the High Lord before me now.

Eris Vanserra was dangerous, cunning, and far too quick-witted for his own good. But he was not his father. And as much as I hated it, as much as it made something twist deep in my chest—

He was also undeniably beautiful.

His russet hair gleamed beneath the chandelier light, his sharp, angular features like something carved from fine marble. And those eyes—deep amber, filled with fire and calculation, but not cruelty. Never cruelty. It unnerved me.

I averted my gaze, the pressure in my throat tightening. "I don't know anything."

His fingers flexed slightly against my waist, the only indication that he had caught the tremor in my voice.

"You will," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. A promise.

I did not know whether it was a comfort or a threat. But I did know one thing—

The game, whatever it was, had only just begun.

As the waltz came to an end, Eris's grip on me loosened, but he did not immediately step away. His amber eyes remained locked onto mine, searching, calculating—always calculating.

I did not look away. I refused to.

Even as my heart pounded against my ribs, even as my throat tightened with the weight of memories that clawed at the back of my mind, I held his gaze.

He exhaled softly, something almost amused flickering in his expression before he lifted my hand, his touch lingering just enough to send a sharp jolt of awareness through me.

Then, with a deliberate slowness that sent heat curling in my gut, Eris pressed a kiss to the back of my hand.

A calculated move. A display of power.

And yet—his lips were warm. Gentle.

He let my hand slip from his grasp, stepping back with an air of ease, as though he had not just sent my already-frazzled mind into chaos.

"Thank you for the dance," he murmured, voice like silk and embers.

I said nothing. Because I couldn't. I simply bowed my head and turned away, ignoring the stares, the whispers that followed me as I slipped back into the shadows of the ballroom.

Eris Vanserra was dangerous. And not for the reasons I had always believed.

I had not been able to get him out of my head.

I hated it.

No matter how much I tried to shove the thoughts away—to remind myself of the horrors I had endured under Beron, of the way his sons had stood idly by for years, of the haunting whispers that surrounded Eris himself—I couldn't stop replaying that moment in my mind.

The warmth of his touch. The softness of his voice. The way he had looked at me, not with hatred, not with indifference, but with something else entirely.

It was a trick. Had to be. And yet, I found myself watching him more than I should have.

Every time he called for something, every time I had to be in his presence, I bowed low, just as I had always done for Beron. I kept my voice neutral, my head down, my routine unchanged.

As if nothing had changed at all. As if I had not danced with him. As if his hands had not burned against my skin. As if I had not spent the past few days wondering, against all reason, if perhaps he was not as evil as I had once believed.

I would not let myself believe it. Not when I had learned, time and time again, that kindness was a dangerous illusion.

So when one of the guards found me in the halls, stopping me with a clipped, "The High Lord is requesting you," a cold dread curled in my stomach.

Requesting me. Not a general summons for any courtiers. Not a task that could have been handled by anyone else. Me.

For a moment, I couldn't move. Memories crashed through me—memories of Beron's summons, of being called for with no warning, no explanation. Of standing before him, knowing what was coming but never being able to predict just how bad it would be.

My hands clenched at my sides. I swallowed hard, pushing down the panic, shoving it deep beneath layers of practiced control.

This was not Beron. I knew that. And yet, my body did not.

With carefully measured steps, I made my way to Eris's study, every inch of me wound tight.

My mind whispered warnings, my heart pounded against my ribs. I forced my hands to remain steady as I knocked once, then pushed the heavy wooden door open.

And there he was—seated behind a grand desk, amber eyes lifting to meet mine the second I entered.

Eris Vanserra, High Lord of Autumn.

And the male who, for reasons I could not begin to understand, had called for me.

I braced myself, preparing for whatever awaited me next. And prayed that I was not about to be proven a fool.

The door shut behind me with a soft thud, the sound too final, too reminiscent of a past I wanted to claw away from.

I stayed near the entrance, hands clasped in front of me, chin dipped ever so slightly—not meek, but neutral. Just as I had been trained to be.

Eris sat at his desk, one elbow braced on the armrest of his chair, fingers resting against his temple as he watched me. Not impatient. Not cruel. Just watching. Then, with that signature tilt of his head, he asked, "What's your name?"

I blinked. "My name?"

He arched a golden brow, the flickering candlelight making the sharp angles of his face seem all the more severe.

"I'd like to know who to call for to keep my company, so yes, your name."

Company. Was this a game? A test?

I studied him, searching for the trap, but found nothing except expectation.

I told him my name carefully, waiting for the moment his expression would shift, for him to sneer or mock or twist the knowledge into something mean.

But he only smiled slightly, a soft curve of his lips that felt almost out of place on a face like his.

Before I could think better of it, before I could convince myself to stay silent, I blurted, "Have you been lonely, my lord?"

Eris's head tilted further, amusement flashing in his amber eyes.

I stiffened immediately. "Forgive me for asking. That was incredibly impolite. I'm so—"

"I have." He cut me off smoothly, his voice quieter now, but no less firm.

I swallowed.

"I imagined being High Lord would be quite different," he mused, gaze flickering to the stacks of papers on his desk, the glowing hearth, the empty room around us. "Nevertheless, here we are." He nodded as if conceding something to himself.

My lips parted slightly, but I had nothing to say to that. Nothing that wouldn't cross a line I was still hesitant to even approach.

Instead, I dropped into another practiced bow. "Will that be all, my lord?"

His eyes snapped back to me, something unreadable stirring behind them.

"Eris," he corrected.

I hesitated.

"I am not my father," he said, voice quiet but edged with finality, as if he were daring me to argue. "Nor do I wish to become him. So please, call me Eris."

I nodded slowly. "...Well then, Lord Eris."

"Just Eris, my dear," he corrected again, leaning back slightly. "Like friends."

I didn't know what startled me more—that he wanted me to call him by his name, or that he had referred to me as a friend.

Still, I tried to ignore the warmth curling in my stomach as I forced myself to say, "Eris."

His lips twitched, something satisfied gleaming in his gaze. "Good girl."

The praise sent something unfamiliar down my spine, not in the way it had whenever Beron complimented me... this was different.

"Now come, get comfortable." He gestured toward the plush green chairs adjacent to his desk.

I stared at him. "You want me to sit?"

"Stand, lean, lay, I don't care." He waved a lazy hand. "Just relax."

"My lord—Eris," I corrected, still trying to wrap my mind around the strangeness of this entire interaction. "I don't get paid to... relax."

He smirked. "No, you get paid to follow my orders. And I am ordering you to get comfortable."

I stared at him for a long moment, my heart hammering in my chest as I tried to decipher the true meaning behind all of this.

But I saw no malice in his expression. No cruel intent. Just anticipation.

I swallowed and, slowly, I did as he said. I sat stiffly, hands clasped in my lap, my back straight as if Beron himself was still lurking behind me, waiting to scold me for stepping out of line.

Eris, however, did not acknowledge my rigid posture. He only let out a pleased hum, as if my mere presence was enough to meet whatever unspoken standard he had set for this moment. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he returned his focus to the parchment before him.

The only sounds in the room were the quiet scratching of his quill and the faint crackling of the candlelight.

I should have been grateful for the silence. It was better than savage words, better than commands meant to humiliate me. But instead, an odd tension settled in my chest, as if I were waiting for the real reason he'd called me here to be revealed.

Minutes passed. Then—

"You're staring," Eris murmured without looking up.

I blinked, feeling heat creep up my neck. "I am not."

His lips curved slightly, and he flipped to another parchment. "You are."

"I was merely looking in your direction." It was wrong of me to talk back, but something about him let my tongue a little looser, he didn't seem displeased by it in the slightest.

He hummed, unconvinced, dipping his quill back into ink. "And why, pray tell, were you looking in my direction?"

I hesitated. "...I was thinking."

Amber eyes flicked up from the page. "Dangerous habit."

That small smirk still played on his lips, but something about it was softer than usual, teasing rather than taunting.

I frowned, not ready for this interaction to feel comfortable, for me to feel comfortable. "I don't find it particularly dangerous."

"That's because you've never played with fire." He twirled the quill between his fingers before dragging the tip across the parchment again. "Not the kind that burns."

I scoffed. "You forget who I served before you."

He paused at that, glancing at me fully and my heart rate spiked. Too far, I'd gone too far, just a few words and the walls I built were crumbling before my very eyes.

Something unreadable flickered in his expression, but it was gone before I could place it. Instead, he dipped his head slightly, understanding the point. "Then I imagine you know better than most that fire, when wielded incorrectly, only ever destroys."

I stiffened, his words striking something deep within me.

Is that what I was? A thing destroyed? Is that what he saw when looking at me, or himself?

Eris exhaled, shifting his focus back to his work. "For what it's worth," he murmured, quieter now, "I don't intend to wield it incorrectly."

I studied him carefully, as I had done many times before, searching for the game, for the cruel edge I knew so well from his father.

But there was no trick. Only a High Lord—no, a male—focused on his work, offering me something I had never once been granted in Beron's court.

Peace.

I swallowed, forcing myself to look away, to ignore the unfamiliar warmth creeping into my bones.

Minutes passed again in silence, but this time, it didn't feel quite so heavy.

"I was serious, you know," Eris mused, not bothering to look up as he broke the quiet.

I frowned. "About what?"

"Keeping my company." He flipped to another document, signing something at the bottom. "I'd prefer your presence over my advisors any day. They're old and dull. You, at least, have some spirit."

I scoffed. "I think you are confusing obedience for spirit."

"Oh no, my dear." His lips curved in a knowing smirk. "You and I both know you're anything but obedient."

I bristled, opening my mouth to argue, but he held up a hand. "It's alright. I find it... refreshing."

I wasn't sure what unsettled me more—the implication, or the way my stomach twisted at his words. Beron preferred all the servantry to have a fiery spirit, which makes it more fun to break, but he never really could stomp my flames out, and now Eris was sparking the embers. It was dangerous, so dangerous.

Silence fell between us once more.

For a moment, I thought that would be the end of it. That I would sit there, a piece of furniture in this room while he worked, just as I had been in Beron's court.

But then, without looking away from his parchment, Eris murmured, "Tell me something, Fawn."

The way he said that nickname—so deliberate, like he was testing the way it felt on his tongue—sent something sharp down my spine.

"Tell you what?" I asked carefully.

He leaned back slightly, fingers steepled in thought. "Something real."

I hesitated. "That's vague."

"Intentionally so." He arched a brow. "Consider it a challenge."

I narrowed my eyes at him, but he only waited, watching me with that same expectant look, as if he truly wanted to hear something about me.

I exhaled. "I don't like the cold."

His lips twitched. "A courtier of Autumn who doesn't like the cold? Shocking, really." His voice was sarcastic, but something in his eyes told me he knew what I meant.

I shrugged, explaining anyway. "It reminds me of your father." The words left me before I could stop them, before I could think better of them.

Eris didn't flinch, but something in his expression shifted. "I hate the cold, too," he admitted after a beat.

I blinked, caught off guard by his honesty.

He returned his attention to the paper in front of him, but his next words were soft, almost contemplative.

"It's why I keep the fire going."

And despite everything I had come to know about Eris Vanserra—despite everything I feared—those words stayed with me long after I left his study that night.

It became routine.

Every evening, after the day's duties were done, I was summoned to Eris's study. At first, I had thought it was some kind of test, some trick to lull me into a false sense of security before he reminded me of my place. But the days passed, and the cruel words never came. The taunts never sharpened into something harsher.

Instead, I found myself sitting across from him as he worked, the fire crackling between us, filling the silence in ways neither of us felt the need to.

And I was learning things.

Not just about him—but about myself.

I learned that despite being raised under Beron's thumb, Eris did not rule with a hand of iron. He listened—to his advisors, to the reports of the court, to me, even. And when I spoke, he truly listened, as if my words meant something.

More recently I learned that he was—Gods help me—attractive.

That fact had been easy enough to ignore when I hated him, when I thought he was just another Beron in the making. But the more time I spent with him, the more I noticed things I shouldn't—like the sharp angles of his face, the golden hue of his eyes, the way his hands moved across parchment with effortless precision.

It was incredibly inappropriate.

He was a High Lord, for the Gods' sake. I was a mere servant. A courtier, yes, but still beneath him in every sense of the word.

But there were moments—subtle, fleeting—where I felt that he didn't see it that way.

Like when he'd catch me staring and smirk, as if he knew exactly where my thoughts had gone. Like when his fingers would brush against mine as he handed me a book, a touch so brief it might have been an accident, but my traitorous body knew better. Like when he said my name—not the way Beron used to, as if I were an object, a thing that existed for his whims, but as if I were someone worth hearing.

It was dangerous. He was dangerous. And yet, I kept returning to his study, night after night, drawn to him in ways I did not understand.

I was comfortable around him now. Too comfortable. And I wasn't sure if that terrified me or eased me more.

The fire crackled behind him, casting golden light over the room as I sat at his desk, scanning over the trade agreements he had asked me to review. Eris stood in front of the hearth, a glass of whiskey in his hand, watching the flames with a contemplative expression.

"They're bleeding the smaller villages dry," I murmured, flipping to the next page. "The tariffs are nearly double what they should be."

Eris hummed in response, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "And what do you suggest, fawn?" His voice was rich, edged with amusement.

I exhaled sharply through my nose, biting back a smile at the teasing lilt in his tone. "Lowering them would be a start."

He took a slow sip of whiskey, then turned, his gaze burning even hotter than the fire behind him. "Very well. Lower them."

I blinked. "Just like that?"

"Just like that." He smirked, as if amused by my surprise. "You have a sharp mind. It would be a waste not to use it."

A compliment. A genuine one.

I busied myself with the documents, ignoring the warmth that curled in my stomach. But before I could shift to the next matter, I felt it—him.

The space between us disappeared in a breath. Eris leaned over my shoulder, one hand bracing against the desk as he peered down at the papers with me.

His warmth seeped through the thin fabric of my dress, his scent—smoke, cedar, spice—curling around me, intoxicating. I stiffened, my fingers tightening around the quill.

"See?" His voice was softer now, smooth like velvet. "That wasn't so hard."

I swallowed, forcing my focus back to the parchment. "I assume the next set of reports won't be as easy."

His chuckle was low, deep. "Unfortunately, no."

We worked through the rest of it together, his proximity never wavering, his breath occasionally ghosting against my cheek as he murmured his thoughts. It should have been unbearable. It was unbearable. And yet, I didn't pull away.

Not even when he poured me a glass of whiskey.

I had refused at first, telling him I was technically working but he had simply raised an eyebrow and said, "I won't tell the high lord if you don't."

It burned going down, leaving warmth in its wake, emboldening me just enough to loosen the tight grip I always held on myself.

Perhaps that was why, when we finally leaned back in our chairs, the tension of duty momentarily relieved, I dared to meet his gaze with something close to ease.

"You're a better High Lord than I expected," I admitted, surprising myself with the honesty.

He turned his glass between his fingers, watching me over the rim. "High praise, coming from you."

I rolled my eyes, but the smallest of smiles played at my lips. "Don't let it go to your head."

"Too late," he quipped, grinning.

I shook my head, but I wasn't fast enough to hide the way my lips twitched in amusement.

Eris noticed. Of course, he did. And he leaned in slightly, eyes gleaming. "Careful, fawn. Keep looking at me like that, and I'll think you actually enjoy my company."

I should have ignored the remark. Should have cut the moment short, should have reminded myself that this was Eris, that I was his courtier and nothing more.

But the whiskey hummed in my blood, and I found myself tilting my chin up slightly, arching a brow.

"Who said I don't?"

His gaze darkened, a flicker of something wicked dancing in those golden eyes.

The air between us tightened, the tension shifting into something heavier, something dangerous.

And for the first time, I wasn't entirely sure if I wanted to run from it.

The room was suffocating with heat—not just from the fire, but from him. From the way he looked at me, like he could see through every carefully placed wall I had built around myself.

I should have left. Should have bowed my head, murmured a polite good night, and returned to the servantry quarters where I belonged.

But I didn't.

Instead, I stayed, rooted in place, watching the way Eris's eyes flickered between my lips and my eyes. The tension stretched unbearably tight, wound so thin that one more word, one more breath, would surely snap it.

And then it did.

One moment, we were speaking, our words slow and softened by whiskey. The next—I was in his arms, and his mouth was on mine.

It was a collision, a wildfire consuming everything in its path.

His lips were searing, his hands gripping my waist as if he couldn't bear to let go, pulling me flush against him. I gasped into the kiss, and he took full advantage, deepening it, his tongue sweeping over mine in a way that made my knees threaten to buckle.

He groaned, low and guttural, and something inside me snapped.

I met his fervor with my own, fingers tangling in his hair, feeling the silk of it between my fingertips as he backed me into the desk. The papers we had worked so hard on crumpled beneath us, utterly forgotten.

He exhaled a quiet curse against my lips as his hands gripped my hips tighter, and I—I didn't stop him. I arched into him, into the warmth, the danger of it.

And then—it happened.

A tether snapped into place.

Invisible, undeniable, unyielding.

My entire body locked up as a force stronger than anything I had ever known latched onto my very soul. The bond—a mating bond—solidified between us like molten steel cooling into iron, a force so absolute it stole the air from my lungs.

No, no, no.

I stumbled back so fast I nearly tripped over my own feet, my hand flying to my lips as if I could erase what had just happened.

Eris reached for me, eyes wide, something dangerously close to awe written across his sharp features. "Wait—"

But I didn't.

I turned and ran.

I ignored the way his voice followed me, calling my name, ignored the way my heart thundered in my chest, the way my mind screamed at me that this was impossible, that it couldn't be real, that it shouldn't be real.

Because if it was—if it was real—then it meant I was bound to him. To him.

Not just the male who had been slipping under my skin, infiltrating the cold emptiness I had built to protect myself. But Beron's son. Beron's heir. A Vanserra. A High Lord.

By the time I reached the servantry quarters, my breaths were ragged, my hands shaking as I shoved my door closed behind me, locking it with trembling fingers.

I pressed my back against the wood, squeezing my eyes shut.

This couldn't be happening. It was a mistake. A trick. A cruel, cruel joke.

I was nothing.

A courtier, a servant.

I did not get to have mates.

And certainly not him.

I curled onto my cot, my hands gripping the fabric of my dress as if I could anchor myself back to reality. I forced my breathing to slow, willed myself to forget the feeling of his lips, the taste of whiskey on his tongue, the way his hands had fit so perfectly against my waist.

I did not sleep that night.

I had been avoiding him.

Days had passed, and I hadn't stepped foot in his study again. I hadn't so much as looked in his direction, even as the court whispered about me, about us, about the undeniable scent of a bond snapping into place.

They all knew.

I could feel their stares, the pity in some, the amusement in others. I knew what they thought—that it was only a matter of time before I bent, before I folded myself into the neat little role fate had carved out for me at Eris's side.

I refused.

I stayed tucked away, keeping to my duties, bowing as I always had when in his presence, keeping my head low, silent. I had done it for years under Beron. I could do it again.

Or at least, I thought I could.

The bond had other plans.

It had been clawing at me, a sick, twisting thing in my chest, gnawing at my ribs every time I kept my distance. The more I ignored it, the worse it became, a restless, aching pressure that built until my hands trembled with the need to do something—run to him, scream, sob. I didn't know which.

I was too caught up in my own mind, too focused on fighting the invisible thread tethering me to him, that I didn't notice the male approaching me until it was too late.

"You've been rather elusive, haven't you?"

I turned sharply, expecting him, expecting Eris—

But it wasn't him.

It was Kyden.

My stomach twisted.

Kyden Vanserra had always taken the most after Beron compared to the rest of his brothers, cruel for the sake of cruelty, sneering down at those he deemed beneath him. Which unfortunately included me.

His smirk was slow, predatory. "I almost mistook you for one of the nobility, standing there all stiff and proper. But then I remembered—you're just a servant, aren't you?"

I forced my body not to react, not to let the memories claw their way up my throat. He had that same look in his tawny eyes that Beron always had on one of the particularly hard days.

Kyden stepped closer, voice a lazy drawl. "And yet, despite your lowly position, you managed to ensnare a High Lord." His lips curled, eyes gleaming with something dark. "Or rather, the bond did. Funny, isn't it? How fate makes fools of us all."

I kept my chin high, my hands at my sides. I would not cower.

He leaned in, his breath brushing against my ear. "You reek of him."

I flinched. Kyden chuckled. "It's amusing, really. Eris, of all people, shackled to someone like you." His gaze flickered over me, assessing, and I knew that look—I had seen it before, a lifetime ago, picking apart my worth, deciding how best to use me.

"What do you think he'll do?" Kyden mused. "Surely, you don't believe he'll actually keep you. A High Lord's mate should be powerful, worthy." He tutted. "You are neither."

The words hit their mark, sinking into my skin like tiny blades, because deep down I knew he was right. This is why I've been avoiding Eris, avoiding having that confrontation that will only result in rejection and sorrow.

"I wonder," he continued, tilting his head, "how long it will take before he grows bored of you. Before he realizes you're nothing more than the same little courtier Beron used to—"

A deep, guttural snarl split the air.

And then Kyden was no longer in my space, no longer crowding me like a looming shadow.

Eris had him by the collar, dragging him back, his teeth bared in a vicious snarl beside his brother's throat.

"Say another word," Eris hissed, voice like fire crackling over dry wood, "and I will tear out your fucking tongue."

Kyden, to his credit, did not flinch. He only grinned. "Touched a nerve, did I?"

Eris's fingers tightened, the flames in the nearby sconces flaring wildly.

"Walk away, Kyden," Eris said, voice quieter now, deadlier. "I raised you better than this."

A beat of silence. Then Kyden huffed a laugh, shoving Eris off him with a roll of his shoulders.

"As you wish, brother." He turned to me, and there was something smug in his eyes, something knowing. "See you around, little courtier."

And then he was gone.

Eris exhaled harshly, running a hand through his hair before turning to me.

"Are you—"

I shook my head, stepping back. "Don't."

His jaw tensed.

I couldn't do this. Not here. Not now.

The hallway was silent except for the distant clatter of pots and the hushed murmurs of servants slipping past us, their eyes darting away the moment they caught sight of Eris. I could still feel the ghost of Kyden's words slithering over my skin, the way he had looked at me, spoken to me. But more than that—I could feel the weight of Eris's gaze, burning into me as if he were unraveling every thought in my head.

I didn't want to look at him. Didn't want to feel the way I did when he looked at me.

His amber eyes flickered with something unreadable, something heavy and tense. He hadn't moved since Kyden left, his hands clenched at his sides, as if he was still fighting the urge to chase his brother down and finish what he started.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. We stood nearly a yard away from each other in the servants' passages, the house was so vast that to get from place to place quicker in the manor there were secret paths to take. It was odd for the High Lord to even know about them.

I swallowed hard, then whispered, "Why are you here?"

Eris blinked, as if startled by the question. And then, with the ghost of a smirk, he drawled, "It's my house, isn't it?"

I narrowed my eyes. "You know what I mean."

More silence.

His smirk faded.

"I was looking for you," he admitted finally.

I stared at him, heart hammering against my ribs. "You could've called for me."

His expression darkened, and he took a step closer. "Would you have come?"

I said nothing.

He huffed a bitter laugh. "That's what I thought."

I clenched my hands into fists, nails biting into my palms. "It's my job, Eris," I whispered.

His jaw flexed. His fingers twitched—like he wanted to reach for me, wanted to touch me—but he didn't. Instead, he just stood there, looking more defeated than I'd ever imagined a Vanserra could.

"Can we go somewhere more private?" I asked, my voice quieter now, because we were standing a distance apart with maids and cooks scuttling silently past us, pretending they weren't listening, pretending they couldn't see the invisible string between us.

Eris studied me for a long moment, then nodded. Without another word, he turned on his heel, leading the way.

I followed.

The room he brought me to was small, tucked away in one of the unused wings of the estate. A study, maybe, or a reading room—the kind of place someone could go to disappear.

He shut the door behind me, and then we were alone.

Eris exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. "Are you alright?"

I let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "I don't know."

His jaw tightened. "Kyden—"

"I don't want to talk about Kyden."

He stared at me for a moment, then nodded. "Then talk to me about something else."

I let out a breath. "About what, Eris?"

He stepped closer, slow and careful, as if I were something fragile. "About why you've been avoiding me."

I scoffed. "You know why."

"I want to hear you say it."

I met his gaze, and the heat in his eyes sent a shiver down my spine. "Because this—" I gestured between us. "—isn't supposed to happen. Because you're a High Lord, and I'm a servant, and this bond—" I swallowed hard. "It's cruel."

Eris's expression was unreadable, but his fingers twitched again, and I wondered if he even realized he kept doing that—kept stopping himself from touching me. "You think the Mother is cruel?"

I hesitated. "I think fate is."

Eris exhaled through his nose, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "Do you hate it that much?"

I didn't answer.

Did I?

Hate was easy. Hate was something I understood, something I could hold onto. Hate had kept me alive under Beron's rule, had hardened me, protected me.

But this? This tether between us, this thing that hummed in my chest, that made my body ache to close the distance between us—

I didn't have a name for it. And that scared me more than anything.

Eris watched me carefully, as if searching for something in my expression. He let out another sigh and retreated, taking a seat on the small leather couch adjacent to the popping fireplace. I watched him silently, still standing by the door.

"I never wanted this either," he admitted, voice softer now. "I spent years ensuring I would never be bound to someone who could be used against me. And yet..." His lips quirked into something bitter. "Yet here we are."

My throat felt tight. "Do you hate it?"

His amber eyes burned. "No."

The breath I took was unsteady.

"You never answered?" he looked up at me.

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Shook my head. "I don't know."

Eris nodded once, as if that answer was enough.

Silence stretched between us again.

Finally, he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "You don't have to accept it," he said. "Not now. Not ever, if that's what you choose." He met my gaze, something like resignation flickering in his eyes. "But I won't apologize for it."

He wanted to keep it? Wanted me to accept it?

I swallowed against the lump in my throat.

He tilted his head, considering me. "So what now?"

I shook my head. "I don't know."

A slow, knowing smirk curved his lips. "That's twice now."

I scowled. "Shut up."

He chuckled. "I suppose I should be grateful I got anything out of you at all."

I rolled my eyes, but there was no bite to it.

Eris studied me again, quieter this time. "I meant what I said," he murmured. "I was looking for you."

I looked away. "I know."

Silence settled between us again, but it was different now. Less suffocating.

More dangerous.

Because I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep pretending I didn't want him to find me. I approached his side quietly and sat.

The leather couch was cool against my skin as I sank into it beside him, the silence between us thick with unspoken words. The bond thrummed like a second heartbeat, relentless and inescapable.

The son of the man I loathed most in this world was the one I was expected to love beyond reason.

Fate was a sick, twisted thing.

I sighed, tired of thinking, tired of fighting, tired of everything. Slowly, hesitantly, I tilted my head, letting it rest against his shoulder. His body stiffened for a fraction of a second before he relaxed, exhaling a breath I might've imagined.

It was enough for now.

"I'm High Lord," he said after a beat.

"Painfully aware," I murmured.

"Meaning—there are rules of the Autumn Court that I can... simply get rid of."

I huffed a soft, tired laugh. "You're a lord, not a king."

"Mm, true," he mused, tilting his head back against the couch, "but if Rhysand can bend the rules to marry his mate, so can I."

I hesitated. "His court is much more pliable. Autumn is notorious for its... old-fashioned ways."

"Well, the Autumn Court has a new High Lord." His voice was steady, sure. "Let's just hope I'm changing it for the better."

I smiled faintly, my eyes fluttering shut. "You are, 'Ris."

The name slipped out before I could think better of it, before I could remind myself that familiarity with him was dangerous.

His body went still beneath me.

Then, slowly, deliberately, he looked down at me, amber eyes burning with something I couldn't name.

We stared at each other for a long moment, really seeing each other.

And then, quietly, almost reverently, he murmured, "I'm going to kiss you now."

I nodded.

And then he did.

His lips pressed against mine, slow and deep, as if we had all the time in the world. As if the bond wasn't something to be feared but something to be savored. His hand lifted to my jaw, his thumb brushing over my cheekbone before sliding into my hair, tilting my face up, pressing deeper.

I sighed into him, gripping the front of his tunic as the bond pulsed between us, as the warmth of his body and the scent of campfire and rainy mornings wrapped around me like something familiar, something I could fall into.

It should have scared me.

But all I could do was kiss him back.

Eris pulled away just enough to rest his forehead against mine, his breath warm against my lips. My heart pounded, my thoughts a chaotic mess, but the bond hummed in quiet contentment—as if it had known all along that this was inevitable.

His fingers stayed tangled in my hair, his other hand still cupping my jaw, holding me there, keeping me grounded. "We'll figure this out," he murmured, voice low, steady. Sure.

I let out a slow breath, my hands still fisted in his tunic. "You make it sound so simple."

"It doesn't have to be complicated."

I swallowed hard, my mind already spinning with the realities of what this meant, what it could mean. But as I looked at him, at the quiet determination in his gaze, at the warmth that had nothing to do with the firelight flickering around us, I found myself wanting—just for a moment—to believe him.

So I nodded, just barely.

His lips brushed my temple, lingering there for a heartbeat before he leaned back, his hand finally slipping from my hair. "One step at a time, my dear."

I exhaled, my pulse still thrumming in my throat, and echoed, "One step at a time."

And maybe, just maybe, we'd find our way through this. Together.

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[prythianslibrary]

This is @prythianpages. You can find my writing here. I made this little slide blog for all the fics I read & love so I can go back to them ❤️

Heads up, I do reblog things from other fandoms from time to time. I also tag all my posts so if you're looking for something particular, click on the links below:

A C O T A R

Azriel | fluff | angst | smut | series | personal favs

Cassian | fluff | angst | smut | series | personal favs

Rhysand | fluff | angst | smut | personal favs

Eris | fluff | angst | smut | series| personal favs

Lucien | fluff | angst | smut | personal favs

Tamlin | fluff | smut

Helion | fluff | smut

Tarquin | fluff | smut

J J K

Kento Nanami | fluff | smut | angst | personal favs

Saturo Gojo

Toji Fushiguro

O T H E R S E R I E S

Aaron Warner

divider by @cafekitsune

[parkerslatte]

The Purest Kind of Love

Azriel x Fem!Reader x Eris Vanserra

Warnings: smut. mentions of abuse. mentions of torture. blood and injury. mentions of childbirth. inner circle being assholes. near death experience. [more warning will be given as story progresses]

Summary: Four years ago, Azriel and Y/N made a bargain. They would form a relationship until either of them find their mates, once that happens, their relationship would end. No tears. No arguments. That was how it would be. However once the four years pass, both Azriel and Y/N realise how they have settled down in the life they had built together.

At the celebration of the new Autumn High Lord, everything Y/N and Azriel had built comes crashing down as a mating bond snaps between Y/N and Eris. Staying true to the bargain, the relationship between Y/N and Azriel ends.

Though as Y/N and Eris get closer, through some kind of divine intervention, Azriel always seems to be around with the mated couple. Feeling arise and truths come to light the longer they all spend around each other. However, not everyone is approving of the budding relationship. Truths come to light and some may not be so positive.

Current Word Count: 18,530

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

TAGLIST CLOSED

•••

Contents:

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

Part Nine

Part Ten

Part Eleven

Part Twelve

Part Thirteen

Part Fourteen

Part Fifteen

Part Sixteen

Part Seventeen

Part Eighteen

Epilogue

A/N: Welcome to my new series I have coming out! Everything is planned and is a little bit longer than I originally intended though I cannot wait to share it with everyone!

[daycourtofficial]

Tell me I’m the only, only, only, only one - part five

Pairing: Eris x Azriel x reader | WC: 6k | warnings: general angst, canon violence, blood, loose medical stuff that likely doesn’t make sense

Summary: avoiding Azriel only works for so long when he uses Rhysand to get you to see Eris one more time. You’re more than shocked when your meeting is ambushed, wounds making you reconsider things.

A/N: we’re insecure, and we don’t know what for! Anyway please enjoy 💕

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After Azriel had left you in the bathroom, you stood there for what had to have been hours, the last remnants of his warmth clinging to the air around you. You had never felt so alone, his rejection an intense sting you were certain branded your soul.

Your chest felt heavy with his presence. At some point in the night you had finally figured out how to shut him out. The iron was heavy as it shackled your heart, cutting off the mate who was supposed to protect you, not knowing he was who you needed protection from.

Sleep didn’t come to you that night and it was a battle the next night to sleep for even a few hours. Your mind felt stale and stagnated, yearning for the fixation that was his journals. Azriel had given the most recent one to you just before rejecting you, not even having the chance to crack the spine yet. His confession that Eris was above you still stung too much.

You spent most of your time outside of work now laying in bed, unable to stop your thoughts from analyzing every angle of your entire relationship with Azriel. You hardly slept, no idea how much time had passed in the stillness of your grief.

Rotting in bed was an option both Nesta and the House did not appreciate - the latter stopped giving you full meals, the former making her way into your room this afternoon informing you that you would be seen at dinner so she had proof you were alive and eating.

The last people you wanted to see were happily mated couples, practically rubbing their mateship in your face just by existing. The Mother was surely testing you in some way, and you weren’t sure if you could handle the outcome of failing.

You had left your room one singular night during your solitude. The moon had been bright through the windows as you snuck to the library, leaving a note for Clotho to deliver a book on failed mating bonds to your room in the House of Wind.

It was an unusual request, but you knew Clotho would do it. You spent many nights in the library pouring over textbooks, dropping off various sweets for Clotho and the other priestesses in offering and thanks for their help.

By the next afternoon the book was on your bedside table, placed there by the house no doubt to ease your embarrassment from the nosey eyes of Cassian. Now the book on broken bonds sat on top of the last journal you had gotten from Azriel, taunting you with your future within its pages.

They were all going to find out eventually that Azriel had rejected you, but that left you in an even more impossible situation. Reaching out for comfort from your friends meant Azriel’s secret mating with Eris became public knowledge. No matter how mad or upset you were with the both of them, that was a line you refused to cross.

Would Nesta and Cassian kick you out? If Azriel didn’t want you, surely you’ve lost the friendships you’ve made the past few years with his family?

Maybe you’ll move to Spring. Tamlin surely won’t notice if you just picked a spot and built a house.

You put your head in your hands, wanting to claw the possibilities out to find which one would save you from this grief.

Your self imposed isolation hadn’t kept you safe from seeing Azriel. You had asked Cassian to fly you home from work, a job he did with delight. You avoided dinners, changed your entire schedule to maximize your potential to avoid him.

And yet you’d pass him in the hallway, see him in the stairs, and find him in the kitchen. He was everywhere, each appearance only pissing you off further. Every time you ignored him, even going so far as to bump him with your shoulder when passing by.

But he never said anything. Just looked in your direction, his eyes not catching the light like they used to. His shadows don’t even follow you around anymore. They clung to Azriel like a second skin as if holding him upright.

Were you a failure? Had any other fae had such a short mating? Was it even truly a mating?

Your anger had been simmering for a while, but now as you descended the steps to dinner, your rage was palpable, nearly carrying it with you like Azriel does with his shadows. You craved it, needed it to hold you through seeing him, having to pretend he hasn’t laughed in the face of the Mother and carved out your heart.

But your anger was for naught as you approached the dining room. Azriel wasn’t there amongst the faces of his family, a rarity for the House of Wind. Usually dinners consisted of Nesta, Cassian, and Azriel, but tonight Rhys and Feyre were in attendance, a small Nyx situated on Feyre’s left.

Your fury tampered down, taking it off the heat and letting it cool down as you walked in, all eyes turning to you.

“Just in time! Now can we eat, Nes?” Cassian was impatient, his fork already in hand, clearly waiting for the second you showed up.

“Let her sit down first, Cassian.” Rhysand laughed. “Or perhaps you’re going to gnaw on her legs, hm?”

The growl of Cassian’s stomach rippled through the air, his body’s own testament to the discomfort it felt.

“Go ahead and dig in, I wouldn’t want Cassian to starve.” Cassian let out a ‘thank you’ between mouthfuls as you sat across from Nesta. She watched as you sat, her eyes tracking as you picked up the tongs to plate your food. She didn’t relax until you began eating, and even then it was only enough for her to eat.

You watched her watch you, confused about her intensity, not even paying attention to Rhys and Feyre’s light teasing of each other.

It was wonderful that they had happiness with each other. Good for them. You stabbed your chicken with a bit more force, chewing slowly, putting on a show for whatever Nesta was watching for.

“Azriel should be back in time tomorrow.” It was almost comical how quickly your ears tuned into the conversation at his name.

“In time for what? What’s going on tomorrow?” It was the first words you had spoken, and you didn’t notice the glances they all shot to each other. Rhys turned his attention to you, violet eyes kind as he spoke.

“You and Azriel will be seeing Eris tomorrow.”

“We are?” The incredulity of your tone could be heard from streets away, other family dinners halting at the annoyed tone that floated on the breeze.

“Yes, he told me Eris is quite chatty with you. Azriel left word that Eris had something important to share and that it was urgent the two of you met with him.”

You blinked a few times, trying to push your anger aside to make way for the bewilderment. Had Eris called for this? Or was it Azriel, finally wishing to put an end to this?

Your heart hammered, the string around it pulsating tighter, worried it would be broken and left unraveled to slosh around inside your chest for eternity.

“Maybe Eris likes you.” Cassian made kissing sounds at you. Your eyes remained fixed on Rhysand, as if the longer you looked the more answers you’d get. He tilted his head, the slight caress of a claw tapping onto your mental shields the only thing to get you out of your trance.

“Don’t be gross, Cass.” Feyre chided despite her giggles. “I don’t think he’s capable of enjoying anything.”

“Eris likes fresh blood.”

“So did Amren.”

“Rhys, I’m not sure if I should go.” You broke up their joking, finally responding to Rhys’s prodding. You were pleading with your High Lord, trying to make him understand you can’t.

“I know he’s a bit much, but if Azriel’s right and Eris has some soft spot for you, it’d be in our best interest to exploit it.”

How far Cassian had been from the truth. Eris would delight in nothing more than ripping out your arteries with his teeth.

You nodded silently, looking back to your plate, pushing the peas around. You don’t say another word, you’re not even keeping watch of Nesta before retiring for the evening.

-

Rhysand hadn’t given you a time to expect to leave, so you spent the morning working with Madja, telling her you’d have to leave at noon to attend to some affairs Rhysand had asked of you. The older fae was annoyed, her wrinkles deepening, but she kept her mouth shut before walking off, muttering something about young males in power.

A few patients had come in, mostly to have previous injuries checked for an all clear. The cold snap in Velaris had left several fae slipping on ice, many twisted ankles keeping you busy the past few weeks.

You left promptly at noon, saying goodbye to Madja before heading out. Seeing your most recent patients had you checking every step for ice, ensuring sure footing before fully putting your weight down as you headed to the end of the road, already seeing the tips of Cassian’s wings.

You bundled yourself in your coat, burying your face into your scarf as you began mentally preparing yourself for seeing Azriel. Eris you could handle - he was cruel, but manageable. He never pretended to be something he wasn’t. But Azriel kept popping in and out, handling you delicately and with care before shattering you unexpectedly. Your heart was beating faster at the thought of seeing him, while also sinking deep into your stomach.

Your eyes followed the cobblestones, being mindful of any patches of ice, too busy to notice until you were right in front of him that it wasn’t Cassian you had seen. His blue chest siphon m was the first thing you saw, a soft expletive leaving your lips before you could stop it.

“Hello to you too.”

You finally looked up, his shadows peeking out from the collar of his leathers, tracing up his neck in beautiful patterns. You nodded in greeting.

“Where’s Cassian?”

“We’re heading straight for Spring, so I told him I could come by and get you.”

It was painfully silent as the two of you stood there, Azriel’s head moving constantly to try to catch your eye. His annoyance flared up in your chest, and you were too absorbed in it to shut it down.

“Talk to me.” His voice was pleading, but with a sharp edge.

“I don’t want to.” Your tone was petulant, a childishness to it that was uncommon.

“Why not?”

“You’ve made your opinion of me very clear. Besides, don’t you need Eris’s permission to talk to me first?” He sighed, the siphon on his chest glowing slightly. “Surely he’ll be upset you had to hold onto me to winnow here. Maybe he’ll have soap on hand to scrub your hands of me once and for all.”

“You’re being childish.”

“Can we just get this over with? I know why we’re here and I don’t exactly want to linger for a long time.”

Azriel’s eyebrows shot up at the curtness in your tone, but you couldn’t be bothered with niceties anymore. You were exhausted of chasing after him, begging for his attention, just for it to always be on Eris. The sooner this was over, the sooner you could move on.

He reached his hands out, gently scooping you into his arms. You took care not to dive nose first into his neck like last time, not wanting his scent to overpower you or make you spiral further.

The bond inside of you was rattling in your ribcage, desperate for you to fight, to snark, to do something to get Azriel’s attention. But you blocked it out, only looking ahead for the entirety of the flight.

The two of you landed in the familiar spot, an earthy scent clinging to the air. The spot was empty, and you felt Azriel’s stomach drop in disappointment at the knowledge through the bond. Your hand rubbed across your face before you quickly tampered down the bond, not wanting to know how they’re feeling about this.

The two of you waited for several minutes. The chittering of the forest was loud, heightening the awkward silence. It was so green and bright in Spring, the plant growth nearly blinding after the intense snowfall Night had been experiencing.

You felt Azriel’s eyes on you, hazel irises unwilling to depart from your form. Your name was a soft exhale from his lips, a pleading tone that would have sent past you spiraling. It only furthered your resolve.

“Don’t do that. I’m only here out of duty to Rhysand. My High Lord asked this of me, and frankly, it’ll likely be the last time Eris ever sees me.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means I’m done. Clearly the Mother was wrong and clearly you and Eris both know that. It’s just taken me until now to figure that out myself.”

“That’s not true.”

You finally looked at him. Your beautiful, beautiful mate, who had always been so kind to you. He had been nothing more than a charade, a carefully crafted story to deter from his actual mate. You straightened your shoulders to gather your words, trying to voice your exact thoughts.

“No, Azriel. I’m done being your second choice, I’m done being strung along. I don’t want that for me, and as my mate, you shouldn’t want it either. So treat me with the respect I deserve and recognize I’m only here because of Rhys’s asking. You and Eris have made your opinions of me very clear.”

Azriel opened his mouth, but rage flew from yours. The dam had broken, and now a flood was headed directly for the shadowsinger.

“Was it just so I wouldn’t say anything about you and Eris? Was that why you kept stringing me along? Keep your precious bond between you and Eris, keep it to yourselves, I no longer want any part of it.” It felt incredible to say the words aloud, to try to get the point across. But his face twisted with anger, his wings twitching behind him.

“You were never just a secret keeper. You’re my friend, you’re important to me. I told you about Eris in an effort to show you something! I’m trying to reprioritize, but it’s hard.”

For the first time in ages, a shadow moved from Azriel’s body, swirling around you. You were too caught up to notice the little thing, its attempts to calm you down failing.

“Azriel, when have you ever prioritized me? Every time something happens, you’re gone.”

“What do you want me to do? Eris is my mate.”

“And what am I?”

The question cut through Azriel, slicing between his ribs, the pain fracturing through his chest. He didn’t get a chance to reply before Eris materialized in the woods.

Eris was in more regal attire now, a vest covering his tunic that was likely thousands of hours of embroidery. The stiff collar made his jawline seem sharper, his features even more cutting in such regalia. Eris blended into the trees, making the natural world bend a knee to his beauty.

“I see the two of you are incapable of leaving me alone.” He didn’t even look at the pair of you, looking instead at his manicured nails. Filed to a point, the red polish made it look as if blood were dripping from his fingertips.

“Eris, stop.”

“It’s fine, Azriel. I came on your invitation, after all. What is this most pressing matter?”

“We need to talk.”

“Think of that all by yourself?”

“Shut up, Eris. You know what I mean.”

“I don’t know anything going on in your life as of late.”

You looked up, surprised at that tidbit. Maybe you weren’t the only one uncertain of where you stood with the shadowsinger.

“I’m trying to figure it out, Eris.” Azriel’s words were icy, coming from some deep, dark depths of himself.

“What is there to figure out?”

The pause after Eris’s question was too still. The forest was quiet, all birdsong gone. Not even insect chittering to fill the gaps. The world was still outside of the three of you. You looked up into the canopy above you, a chill going down your spine.

“Azriel, I asked you-“

The sound that cut off Eris was a quick burst of wind as an arrow came whizzing past. Azriel was the first to move, pushing you onto the ground, his body laying on top of yours, sheltering you. You pushed against him, trying to get up, trying to see, but he wasn’t budging. Panic flooded you as his wings formed a cocoon around the two of you, what should have been a womb of safety felt more like a cage.

Wood splintered as arrows hit trees, impossible to tell how many fae were targeting the three of you. It sounded like hundreds of arrows, each whizzing past at speeds that could easily kill.

Your breathing quickened as a new worry overtook you: had Azriel been shot? Was he injured?

And where was Eris?

Azriel grunted into your ear, his body jolting. His arms cradled your head, not even a slither of light coming through. This darkness was so different from the one that followed Azriel. It felt nearly suffocating, not even his shadows pittered about in it. It felt cold and hopeless

You could hear the roar of flames beyond the shelter of Azriel’s body, the crackling getting closer to the pair of you. Sweating and breathing heavy, it felt like Azriel’s body weighed even more. You tried to push him off again, but your ragged breathing made it even harder.

Something reached through Azriel’s body, a warm touch gripping your wrist. A flicker of light made it through, not enough for you to see anymore than a blinding white. Suddenly the world shifted, the mud beneath you hardening into wood floors. Azriel’s body was heavier now, his weight digging into you.

“Push.” A muffled voice came from somewhere beyond Azriel, nearly muffled by his body. Fear struck through you - was this whoever had ambushed you? Was Azriel the intended target and you were simply a bystander?

Or was Eris the target, carted off to some court while they dealt with the witnesses?

Despite the panic, your heart tugged in the direction of the voice, practically guiding your arms to push Azriel from you. As you did, more and more light filtered to your eyes, his shadows clinging tight to his body, securing their master’s wounds.

Pale hands wrapped around Azriel’s torso, and you thought you’d never be so happy to see the ring clad fingers of the Vanserra. It took a moment, but Eris was able to lift Azriel enough for you to crawl out from beneath him.

You glanced over Eris, the only injury to be seen were cuts on his face and arms. Relief flooded you at the sight of him, your breaths still shallow. You felt the adrenaline coursing through your veins, only speeding up with the lack of danger. The cabin was dark around you, the place seeming more empty than when you were here last.

“Aren’t you a healer?” Eris had been speaking to you for several moments by this point, his words a buzzing you couldn’t make out until now.

“Yes.”

“Then help him.”

You were frozen, unable to do anything other than look at your hands. You had never been in combat before - during the Battle of Hybern you had been left in the city to run the clinic, the only one left behind.

Azriel’s blood was on your hands, sinking into your skin. Are your bones marked red now?

“Useless.” Eris was a wildfire, moving quickly down the hall before coming back, his arms full of tonics and bandages. The sight snapped you back, your thoughts coming in full force at what to do. You stood, moving quickly to stop Eris.

“Stop, you need to give him some pain medication first.” You rifled through the bottles and bits, each of Azriel’s labored breaths making your heart sink further and further.

“No, we need the arrows out of his back, they’re killing him.”

“I can give him some medicine to manage the pain first. Removing the arrows will mean we’ll have to act quick to stop the blood. It’s better to give him something for the pain now.” Your voice took a sharp edge, the commanding tone of someone in charge. “Then we take out the arrows in his wings.”

Eris’s face was hard as he looked toward you, no doubt hating you even more. Azriel dove to protect you - his state now should have been you. You found the bottle you needed, it’s not as strong as you’d like, but it’s the best you can do.

“Azriel, you have to swallow this.” Your hand gently caressed his cheek, letting him know someone was there. He slowly opened his mouth, allowing you to pour the purple liquid down it. The grimace he made almost made you laugh, like this were any other time, having him eat something unappetizing because Nesta had made it.

Fire stung at your fingers, but you ignored Eris as Azriel finished the potion.

“Okay, we need to trim off the tops of the arrows so we can pull them out more easily. Eris, find a knife and use your fire to sterilize it.”

He started to open his mouth, but you leveled him with a stare that had him quickly closing it.

“Are you going to waste our time by second guessing everything I tell you? If you bothered to let Azriel tell you anything you would know I work directly beneath the court’s healer and am quite competent.”

Eris’s sharp canines protruded from his mouth, a low growl emitting from him, but no more protests as he heated a knife.

“Az, we’re going to cut off the arrow heads and remove them from your wings. Can you stretch your wings out for me?” You rubbed your thumb across his cheek, trying to offer any tenderness he could hold onto.

He nodded so softly you hardly noticed it, his wing unfurling ever so slowly. It didn’t extend fully, but he got about three fourths of the way there.

“I’m going to help you stretch it out this last bit, okay? I need to see all of your wings to help.” You sent a light pulse of what you hoped was soothing down the bond before closing it off again, bending to rest on your knees as you sat in front of his left wing.

Several arrows had pierced through the delicate membrane, but only four remained caught in his wings. You swallowed down your guilt - it wasn’t what Azriel needed now. He needed Madja’s apprentice, not his rejected mate right now. You took a deep breath before extending his wing further, ignoring Azriel’s groans of pain.

“Eris, hold his wing taut.” The uncertainty slipped off like a second skin, making way for the commanding presence you took on for the care of your patients. Once Eris had his wing, you took the hot knife from his hand, quickly and methodically snipping off the heads of the arrows, making sure to hold the base to keep it stabilized before pulling each one out.

You pulled the wood slowly, trying to keep the wood from grazing his skin again. Each arrow went into a pile behind you until his left wing was clean of them, the holes they left the only reminder of them. The two of you repeated the process for his right wing, this one only having three arrows in it, the extraction going much more quickly.

“Is he still awake?” Eris shuffled before a grunt of agreement came from Azriel.

“Azriel, we have to move to the arrows on your back. It’s going to hurt, but we’re going to move fast.” You looked back to the bottles of potions Eris had found, searching for anything that could help Azriel clot faster or sanitize the wounds.

“Why didn’t we do his back first? It’s worse and the arrows are draining him.”

“Because I’m not sure how much blood he’s going to lose. It was a 50/50 gamble, either way.”

“A gamble? Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“Of course I know what I’m doing, Eris! I’m dealing with a squabbling family member who thinks they know better and are keeping me from my job. My job right now is to save his life, not argue with you over semantics. Now either shut up or get out.”

You don’t even watch to see his response, your attention solely on Azriel again. Your hands worked of their own accord, rubbing potions across his back, careful around the protruding arrows. You eventually looked up to find Eris just staring at you.

“Have him drink this.”

Eris took the vial, coaxing it down Azriel’s throat, murmuring softly to the shadowsinger.

“Do you have any towels or rags? We’ll need as many as you have.” Your hands felt down his back, his skin riddled with scars, each one telling a story. You couldn’t fixate on them - how the small nick by his third rib was made by steel a little over a century ago. The sideways gash across his fourth vertebrae made from a carbon blade roughly twenty years prior.

You focused on his current wounds, pinpointing how far the arrows have lodged themselves. You closed your eyes, feeling for his body. A path unfurled in your mind’s eye, following the layers of tissue and muscle the arrow penetrated.

Both arrows avoided the soft, delicate organs housed in his chest, but the longer they stayed inside, the likelihood they’d cause more damage to him.

“Eris, as I remove the arrows, I need you to immediately place rags on the wound. The arrow didn’t pierce any organs, but it cut through several veins. Is Azriel still awake?”

“Yes,” it came out as a croak, so different from Eris’s usual snark and calm.

Eris was ready as you pulled the arrow out, quick and unflinching. A spurt of blood followed the arrow, shooting onto you before Eris covered the wound.

“I can either move onto the next one or start trying to close this one up.” You were muttering to yourself, trying to decide on a course of action.

“The faebane in the arrowhead will make his healing take longer, it’d be better to pull it out.”

The faebane from the arrows was already swimming through Azriel’s bloodstream, but Eris was right - the sooner it comes out, the better for Azriel. You nodded to Eris.

“Right. Keep holding pressure while I pull this other one out. Then we’ll switch sides and I’ll start working on healing him.”

The second arrow was much messier, Eris’s rags darkening with blood much more quickly. The air held a copper tang that was getting stronger by the minute, your concern rising with it.

“Eris, do you know how to count heartbeats?” You don’t even watch for a response before you start explaining. “Count how many times his heart beats for a minute, and then keep repeating. After a few times you’ll know if his heart rate is steady or not.”

You focused on one wound at a time, magic making its way through Azriel’s skin, slowly stitching up the path of destruction the arrowhead forged. It was slow work, his body fighting against the faebane with every breath.

Every ten minutes or so you made Eris help Azriel drink water, hoping the fluids will help wash out the toxin. Each time he did, he’d also make a call out of Azriel’s heart rate.

Azriel remained unconscious, his heart rate changing drastically every few minutes. It had dropped quickly a time or two, causing Eris to panic, but Azriel’s heart rate never got below a threshold, always staying where it could manage.

The sun had set at some point, the cabin surrounded by darkness. Your hands ached from stillness, your joints crying out to move even just a little, but you refused, remaining steadfast. You were a conduit for the magic that lived inside you, magic that was slowly stitching Azriel back together again.

“Here.” Eris sat next to you, holding the cup of water before your face. You hadn’t heard him move, too focused on Azriel. You shook your head, pointedly looking down to your hands.

“I can’t.”

“I can help you.” You looked to find a new expression on his face, something you’re not sure anyone had ever seen on the male. As much as cruelty sharpened his cheekbones, the softness of his eyes made him nearly blinding in the moonlight. You nodded, unable to speak. He held the cup up to your lips, the cold liquid refreshing as it trailed down your throat. Your hands remained on Azriel, but you gulped down the entire cup, not realizing just how parched you were.

Eris pulled the cup away, settling in next to you. More time passed, all of it a blur as you kept your focus on Azriel. Neither of you spoke. Azriel’s face was pale, from blood loss or his shadows having gone missing, you’re not sure.

You slumped back against the couch, rolling your stiff neck. Azriel’s wounds weren’t perfectly healed, but your magic had repaired his blood vessels enough to allow you a break.

It was easy to get swept up in healing - you have a focus, a goal. You know what steps to take next. But as Azriel’s breathing remained strong and steady, yours became shallow. The reality of the day hitting you all at once, Eris’s warmth from next to you making you feel claustrophobic.

“I can’t do this anymore.” Your words were quiet, not much louder than Azriel’s breathing. He was still so close to you, his eyes closed as he laid there. He looked so peaceful.

A month ago you would have salivated at the idea of touching him for hours, but now the smell of his blood made you want to throw up the contents of your stomach.

“He’s yours, Eris. I can’t - you won. I’ll go away, move to the continent to be as far away as possible.” A soft confession that had been lingering in the back of your mind the whole day. You were foolish to believe you could best Eris, completely underestimating the deep well Azriel and Eris’s mating bond ran to.

“You’ll do no such thing.”

“You despise me. If you feel anything like I do, you want me gone.”

Eris was still, his heat nearly unbearable despite the distance between you two. It was so hard to breathe around him, as if he were drawing in all the air for himself.

“He doesn’t want me. I’m tired of fighting for his attention when his mind always goes back to you. He was my friend for so long, and the fact he can just toy with me like this.. I’m not sure how to handle it.”

All you could hear was Eris’s breathing, but you knew he was listening.

“He was my friend and now I’m- well, I don’t know what I am. He’s going to pick you, Eris. He doesn’t want me.”

The confession you had been holding so tight slipped from your tongue like silk. The words sent the bond in your chest into a chorus of screams, their agony the perfect soundtrack to your turmoil.

“Say the word and he’s yours.”

For once, Eris was quiet, no words coming from his mouth. He only shook his head, the movement so precise and imperceptible you thought you dreamt it. You looked back at Azriel, needing to prepare to winnow the two of you away.

Coated in his blood, you had to leave sooner rather than later - Rhysand is surely on the cusp of worry, and there was only so much explaining you could do without forfeiting the cabin.

You watched Eris as you grabbed Azriel’s hands, his eyes reflecting all the hurt you’ve felt the past few weeks. Eris was the easy choice to be mad at - you were tied to Azriel, Eris was just some male tethered to the other end of your mate. But watching him keep his gaze on Azriel, some part of your anger to the redhead cracked, allowing the words to come from you.

“I’ll bring him back to you. He’ll be okay.”

“Thank you.”

Eris’s face hardened as the world blurred, your grip on Azriel strong as the ground gave out beneath you, the wood flooring exchanged for the hard stone of the House of Wind. The two words followed you through space and time, ringing in your ears.

Those two words broke you completely, every ounce of sorrow and pain breaking through. There were no soft cries, only guttural wailing.

It was Nesta you saw first, having followed the loud commotion throughout the house. She found you gripping Azriel, softly crying out to him before she pulled deep in her chest to get Cassian’s attention.

She crouched next to you, wrapping her arms around your shoulder as fat tears rolled down your face.

The bond cried out in pain, practically pleading with you to change your decision, but you knew it was the right choice. Once he healed enough, you’d sever it. You had to. Someone had to put an end to the madness, and you could do what Azriel couldn’t.

Azriel almost died because of this stupid arrangement.

Too lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice when Cassian or Rhysand arrived, their voices indistinguishable to the inner anguish you felt. You were exhausted, your soul crying out in pain. You swore you could hear tiny cries echoing how you felt.

Through the thick fog of your thoughts, you heard Cassian’s voice clear as a bell.

“I bet Eris is behind this. Bastard tricked us.” You crouched over Azriel, becoming even more defensive of the Illyrian. It was a ridiculous stance, trying to shield him from his brother, but you couldn’t help it.

“It wasn’t Eris.” It came out more as a snarl that sent Cassian reeling back. “I don’t know who, but they- it was bad and- Eris winnowed us away to some clearing.”

Your pleas were gut wrenching, anger dissipating and making way for what you had pushed too far down to heal him.

“Azriel’s bandaged.”

“Eris left and got us supplies. He came back for us. He wouldn’t do this, you have to believe me.” You were sobbing now, clutching Azriel’s arm to your chest like that would fix everything. Your breaths were quick, bringing in enough air to sob once more.

“He didn’t - and Azriel-“ arms wrapped you from behind, gently pulling you into their embrace. The smell of leather and sweat enveloped you, Cassian’s strong arms slowly pulling you from Azriel.

You were blubbering now, mostly cries of Eris’s name over and over. You were scared and full of guilt for Azriel, but your mind kept playing that tender moment between Eris and Azriel over and over again. Your heart cried out for the redhead, a deep well of sadness that you had to pull him away from his mate.

Footsteps retreated away from you, but you reached out, clinging to Azriel’s sleeve to remind yourself he was still there.

Header by @tsunami-of-tears 💕

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A/N: if you’ve read this far, just know I’m a bit on the fence about this part so don’t be mean to me 🔫

[bookwormjust]

Hidden pregnancy (established relationship Eris, protective hound)

You’ve noticed it for the past few weeks—Eris’s chief hound, the leader of the pack, has become more possessive, hovering around you constantly. His behavior has shifted from his usual loyalty to something far more intense. He never leaves your side, growling at anyone who comes too close, even Eris on occasion. At first, you found it endearing, but now, the overprotectiveness is becoming hard to ignore.

You’re in the sitting room of your shared estate in the Autumn Court, lounging by the fire. The hound lies at your feet, his golden eyes fixed on you with a sharp, almost vigilant focus. Anytime you move, he’s right there, nudging at you gently as if to keep you still. It’s almost as if he knows something you don’t.

Eris had been busy, as usual, with the duties of being the High Lord, but today he finally found time to join you for a rare moment of peace. He enters the room, his fiery hair catching the light, and as soon as he steps toward you, the chief hound growls low, his massive body shifting to block Eris’s approach.

“Again?” Eris mutters, eyebrows raised as he glances between you and the hound, a mixture of amusement and mild frustration in his amber eyes. “He’s been acting like this for weeks. What’s gotten into him?”

You shake your head, resting your hand on the hound’s massive shoulder. “I don’t know. He’s just... more protective than usual.” You give the hound a reassuring pat, trying to calm his overprotective instincts, but he remains tense, standing between you and Eris like a sentinel.

Eris sighs, walking around the hound cautiously, his gaze softening as it falls on you. “Has anything felt different?” he asks, sitting beside you and taking your hand gently. “Any reason he might be sensing something?”

You shrug, leaning into Eris’s touch. “I’ve been a little tired, but I thought it was just stress. You’ve been busy, I’ve been restless—maybe he’s picking up on that.”

Eris watches you closely, his brows knitting together in thought. His hand moves to your cheek, gently tilting your head to meet his gaze. “You’ve been more than tired. I can tell.”

Before you can respond, the hound lets out another low growl, his nose twitching as he presses closer to you, almost nuzzling your abdomen. You laugh softly, though the possessiveness in his eyes makes you feel slightly unsettled. “See what I mean?” you say, gesturing toward the hound. “He’s never this intense.”

Eris is silent for a moment, his sharp gaze flicking from the hound to you. Slowly, his eyes narrow, his posture stiffening. “Wait...”

His nostrils flare slightly as he leans closer, inhaling deeply, his focus entirely on your scent now. His eyes widen suddenly, and you see the shock and realization wash over him, his usual calm composure faltering.

“By the Cauldron...” he breathes, his voice low, filled with awe and disbelief. “You’re pregnant.”

You blink at him, stunned, your heart racing. “What? No, I—I couldn’t be...”

But before you can finish the sentence, the truth of it hits you. The exhaustion, the small changes in your body you’d brushed off—all of it suddenly makes sense. Your hand instinctively moves to your stomach, where the hound had been so possessively guarding.

Eris reaches out, his hand gently covering yours, his expression softening with a mixture of joy and concern. “He knew before I did,” he says, glancing at the hound, who is now lying at your feet, his head resting protectively on your lap, watching both of you with sharp, possessive eyes.

You’re still processing the news, your mind spinning. “How is that possible? It’s too early—”

“Fae hounds are attuned to life in ways we aren’t,” Eris says softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “He sensed it before your scent changed enough for me to detect it.”

You look down at the hound, a new understanding settling over you. His protectiveness, his possessiveness—it wasn’t just instinct, it was his way of guarding the new life growing inside you, something he had known long before either you or Eris.

Tears prick at your eyes as you meet Eris’s gaze, overwhelmed by the sudden realization. “We’re going to have a baby.”

Eris smiles, a rare, genuine warmth in his expression as he leans forward to kiss your forehead. “Yes, we are,” he whispers, his voice full of love and wonder. “And he’s already started guarding both of you, hasn’t he?”

The hound lets out a soft huff, as if in agreement, settling more comfortably by your side, his head resting protectively against your stomach.

Eris wraps his arms around you, holding you close, his lips brushing the top of your head. “I promise, I’ll protect you both with everything I have.”

And with his hound at your side, you know he means every word.

[batboysanonymous]

A King’s Devotion

Eris Vanserra x Reader

Summary: He watches you the way a man starved watches a feast—patient, reverent, wholly consumed. Eris Vanserra is a prince, a predator, a male who could set the world on fire with a flick of his wrist—but here, in the soft glow of morning, his only conquest is you.

Continue reading below ⬇

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Eris Vanserra made a habit of watching you.

Not in the way others had throughout your life—curious, intrigued, but distant. No, Eris watched you like you were the only thing worth looking at in this gods-damned world.

Like you were the sun rising over his frozen bones.

He was already awake when the water in the bathroom shut off, his golden eyes flicking up from where he lounged on your shared bed, one arm behind his head, the other twirling a flame absently between his fingers.

Steam curled into the bedroom as you stepped out, towel wrapped around your body, your damp hair dripping onto your shoulders. The scent of you—clean, warm, laced with something sweet Eris could never quite name but always craved—drifted toward him, and his flame flickered out.

He had nowhere else to be. No courtly obligations, no brothers to glare at across a war table, no schemes to run through his mind.

Not when he could be here.

Not when he could watch you move through your morning routine, utterly unaware of how completely you had him.

Eris propped himself up on one elbow as you grabbed a bottle from your dresser. His mouth nearly watered at the familiar scent of your moisturizer, something warm and rich with a hint of vanilla. A scent that lingered on his skin every night after he pulled you into his arms, after he had you beneath him, gasping his name.

He was going to bite you later. Probably right on the spot where you were rubbing that lotion into your neck, fingers massaging gently. Would you whimper for him if he sank his teeth into that soft, perfumed skin? He’d find out.

His lips twitched when you wandered over to the closet, pulling out two tops and considering them in the mirror. It was a familiar ritual—one he never interrupted, always patient, always waiting for—

There it was.

You turned, holding up both options. “Which one?”

The corner of his mouth curled. “Black.”

It was an easy answer, one he’d already decided the moment you pulled them out. But he liked it when you asked.

You rolled your eyes but tossed the other back into the closet, slipping the chosen shirt over your head. He let out a slow breath when the fabric fell into place. Good choice.

Eris sat up fully, stretching his arms over his head as he watched you smooth your hands down the shirt, then move on to jewelry—delicate rings and a necklace he’d gifted you on your first solstice together. His chest warmed as you clasped it behind your neck, fingers brushing over the small ember-shaped charm.

“Are you going to lay there all day?” you teased, glancing at him through the mirror.

Eris only smirked, standing with the fluid grace of a predator, moving toward you with lazy, unhurried steps. His arms wound around your waist from behind, pulling you flush against his chest.

You hummed, tilting your head to look at him in the mirror. “Thought you liked watching me get ready.”

“I do,” he murmured, nuzzling into your neck. His voice was lower now, raspier, like embers crackling beneath his breath. “But I like ruining you more.”

His teeth scraped over your pulse, his hands splaying over your stomach, pressing you back into him. Your breath hitched, a shiver rolling through you as his lips brushed the shell of your ear.

“Eris,” you whispered, warning and wanting all at once.

He hummed, his grip tightening just slightly. Just enough to make you feel it.

“You smell too fucking good,” he muttered, lips brushing against your jaw. “Might have to keep you in bed all day.”

You laughed, though it was breathier now, leaning into him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Eris smirked against your skin. He had nowhere better to be, after all.

[mcuamerica]

Loving Flames | Part One

Pairing: Eris x Reader

Summary: Amarantha decided to 'gift' you to Eris Vanserra to get back at Rhys. Requested by anon here.

Warnings: 18+ only, canon level violence, alludes to SA, the word whore shows up a few times, (again not proofread), let me know if anything was forgotten...

Word Count: 4.6k

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

Dividers from @saradika

Eris met you when you were 35, years after the war. It was at a High Lords meeting, with your father bringing you along to introduce you to the court. It snapped for Eris in that moment.

You were wearing a spectacular navy blue and silver gown, fabric attached to your shoulders to make it look like a cape. Your wings were tucked in tight behind you to keep from bumping into anyone.

He tried to speak to you that night, tell you about the bond, but his father pulled him away quickly and he didn’t see you again.

The next time he saw you, however, you were by Rhysand’s side in all black, mourning the loss of your father and your mother. And your wings. While Tamlin’s brothers didn’t kill you, they almost did. Taking time with you is what allowed you to live, unfortunately for you.

Eris tried approaching you again, needing to say at least something to you. This time, Azriel, the ever obedient guard dog, growled and told him to leave. These ceremonies were for friends only. Which the Autumn Court was not. That night, Eris gave up on the idea that you and him could be together. He decided to leave you be, and avoid you at all cost.

But then Amarantha came sweeping in. Rhysand brought you to the ball with all of the High Lords when she took their powers. As since Rhysand’s father killed Tamlin’s, she wanted to punish him more than just taking him to bed.

“Beron, which one of these is your heir?” She asked, perched atop the throne. You were standing close to Rhys, his arm around your back. Eris, even though the bond was buried deep down, could feel the nerves radiating down that bridge. You were terrified. That she was going to hurt you. Or Rhys. And what better way than letting your enemy do it or you.

“I am,” Eris spoke before his father could utter a word. His father shot him a deadly look, but Amarantha’s smile widened.

“Good. I’m gifting her to you.” She said and smirked, nodding towards you.

Your eyes widened. Rhys looked to Eris with an even deadlier look than his father, almost saying ‘if you hurt her, you will be killed slowly and I’ll enjoy it.’ Eris stepped forward, soliciting a growl to come from deep within Rhys’s throat.

“Easy, bat, I will be gentle.” He said, unable to drop the mask. He forced his hand to remain steady as he reached it out to you.

You shrunk closer to Rhysand, listening as he leaned down and whispered something not even fae eyes could detect. You looked up to Rhys with pleading eyes.

“Hurry, now, I do not have all day.” Amarantha said, staring at her nails as if she were bored.

With a final nod from Rhysand, you shakily took Eris’s hand.

He did not pull you, instead allowing you to walk with him back to where his father and brothers stood. After that that, he let go of your hand. He promised himself he would protect you, even if you all thought he was a monster. He would never harm you, and never make you do anything you didn’t want to. Not as long as he could help it. His mate. You were under his protection now, and he would be damned if he let anyone harm you ever again.

Deciding to make you suffer even more, since you were the reason Rhysand knew about Tamlin’s brothers hurting you, Amarantha assigned you to a tiny room connected to Eris’s. It didn’t have a fireplace, and it barely fit the small bed that was in it. There was a small room filled with revealing clothing. Specially placed there so you could please Eris, according to her.

But months went by and he did not touch you. He would escort you to court dinners, offering you more food than the small portion you were allowed. You never accepted, eyes always darting for your brother to bring you some sort of comfort. But, Rhys was barely there. If he was, his eyes were cast downwards as Amarantha stroked his arm or his leg, making it clear that Rhys was her obedient dog, her whore. It made you sick to your stomach, but you knew he did it to keep your family safe. So maybe one day you could return to the sanctuary of Velaris.

You flinched slightly as Eris rested a hand on top of yours. “You need to eat, my lady,” he whispered. What seemed to be concern filled his eyes.

“So you can treat me like a pet?” You asked, swallowing your fear.

“So you can survive this.” He said. “I-“ he glanced up as Amarantha stood up to make an announcement. “I will come to your room tonight and I want you to have strength.” He said before she began to speak.

A chill ran down your spine at the thought of what you imagined on your head. You looked down to your plate, taking a small bite of the food. You were no good if you starved yourself. And if you didn’t please Eris like he wanted to, either he or Amarantha would punish you. Probably in front of your brother. Or make him do it.

Eris hummed in agreement to your action, before his attention looked towards Amarantha.

That night, you were shivering in your bedroom. The light set of pajamas doing nothing to keep you warm in the cool room, surrounded by nothing but stone. You perked your head up when the door connecting to Eris’s room opened. He normally used the main one connected to the hall, but tonight he must have wanted to be discrete. Bile rose on your throat in anticipation of what was about to happen, tears welling in your eyes as you body shook from the cold.

“I’m taking you to see your brother.” Eris said quietly. You looked at him, sitting up even more as you curled into yourself more.

“Why?” You asked

Eris’s heart broke at the sight of you, shivering from the cold and near tears from what you imagined he would do. He could be the villain in your story as long as he could keep you safe. But he needed you sane, as well. He would not let you deteriorate under this gods-forsaken mountain.

“Did you not hear Amarantha? She is sending Rhys to do scouting for the next few months. And I’d like for you to get a proper goodbye.” Eris said. “Here,” he said, pulling out the long, wool lined robe for you. “You’ll be warmer in this.” He even warmed it up with his internal heat before he came in here.

You slowly reached out, grabbing it before wrapping it around your body. He saw as you sunk into its warmth, wish that it was him you could find such comfort in.

He held out a hand and you slowly took it. “I’ll need to act like I’m taking you somewhere else, so just stay close and don’t talk.” He whispered before wrapping an arm around your waist. While you would have normally recoiled, you could only lean further into his body heat, much warmer than any you’ve know before. You assumed it was his internal flames burning under his skin, maybe causing his temperature to be much warmer than others. It must have been a nice luxury to have. Though, you were certain he had a fireplace in his room. Not that it would be hard for him to conjure flame anyway.

Eris stole glances at you, hoping that this would make you happier. You hadn’t seen Rhys, at least not at a distance where you could embrace or talk, for at least a year. But Eris knew Rhys would take your unwillingness to eat as Eris forbidding it, or some other malicious thing. Your eyes were sunken, each piece of clothing hung from your body looser as the days passed. You looked tired, exhausted, as if someone was draining the life force from you. No matter how many times Eris had asked, you were never allowed outside with him. Not even on one of the upper balconies. Your punishment for being alive while her friend was dead. It seemed Amarantha wanted to punish you more than Rhys. And Eris was just glad he could be there to protect you from most of her wrath, claiming that his gift shouldn’t be harmed. The things she threatened to do… Eris hoped she wouldn’t figure out you were his mate. Because if she did… even if her and Beron were allies, Eris didn’t think she would spare you much longer.

Eris knocked on a door, one of the shadow wraiths opening it. Your lips turned into a gentle smile as you greeted Nuala, happy to see a familiar face.

At the site of you, Nuala stepped aside. Rhys had bruises all around his neck, where he was staring at them in the mirror. You swallowed and looked up at Eris.

“Five minutes.” He said and stepped back, nodding at you to go in. You tentatively took a step inside, and once you were over the threshold, Nuala shut the door. Rhys turned, his eyes widening as he finally took account of who was in the room.

“(Y/N),” he breathed out rushing over to you. He looked you over, frowning at how poorly you looked. He cupped your cheeks and searched your eyes. Searching for the carefree little sister he knew. “Are you okay? How did you get here?” He asked.

Rhys must have put a shield around the room before Nuala opened the door, if he did not know Eris brought you here.

“I’m fine… I wanted to say goodbye. You are leaving for the outside soon.” You said, your voice quiet and weak. If Amarantha was trying to torture Rhys, she was doing a good job at it.

“Has he hurt you?” He asked.

You shook your head, wanting to say how well Eris was treating you. But the look on Rhys’s eyes told you he wouldn’t believe you. Maybe you needed to make more of an effort to be involved in this ridiculous, cruel court. But would that make you any better than Beron? Would it help you? Would it help your brother?

Rhys pulled you in for a hug and you wrapped your arms around his chest, burying your head in it. “Please come back.” You whispered, holding him tighter.

“I will never leave you here.” He whispered, rubbing your back. “And I will do everything I can to get you away from him.” He said as he pulled away.

“Did Amarantha do this?” You asked as you traced the small circular bruises on his neck.

“She likes to mark her whores.”

You frowned, looking up at the cold look in his eyes. “I’m proud of you.” You whispered. “I want you to know that… you are doing what is right for our family. And I’m so proud that I can call you my brother.”

You could see the words didn’t hit like you wanted them to… and your heart sank at the thought of Rhys not thinking he was doing enough. Or that he wasn’t good enough. “I will see you soon, (Y/N).” He said, pressing a loving kiss to your forehead.

You glanced at the time on the clock, then noticed Rhys had a balcony to go outside. “Fly for me, brother.” You whispered before stepping back. “I will see you soon.” You said before turning around and walking out of the room. You gave Nuala another smile before finding Eris with his back against the opposite hallway wall.

You walked up to him and took a quiet, internal breath. “I’d like new clothes.” You said to him.

His rose his eyebrows, shocked at your sudden urge to talk to him. “Excuse me?” It came out more rude than he meant it, but didn’t let that show.

“I-“ you started and then took a visible deep breath. “If I am to be your gift, I want to be presentable. I would like new clothes.” You said. You had no intention of doing anything for Eris, and the more you could avoid him, the better. But if Amarantha thought Eris favored you, maybe she would let you out. Maybe you could fool her into thinking you were enjoying it. And maybe that would be enough for her to let you leave your room by yourself.

“Okay.” Eris said.

It was your turn to be shocked. You thought you would need to convince him a lot more than that.

“Give me a list of clothes you’d like, and I’ll see what I can do.” He answered, then held out his arm. “Now come, you must be tired.” He said.

You tentatively took his arm, still slightly shocked that he didn’t dismiss you. This male that you knew to be cruel and abusive was nothing but kind, gentle, and patient with you. You started to piece together the times you interacted with him, and couldn’t think of a single time were he was mean. Maybe distant, cold, but plenty of faeries were like that. Your brother was like that a lot of the times. It was a mask to keep him safe. Maybe Eris was the same. Maybe you could trust him.

You faltered as he did not stop at your door, but kept walking a few more steps to his. You looked up at him and watched as he opened the door and lead you inside. Maybe you didn’t escape what you dreaded earlier today.

“It’s warmer in here. If you’d like, you can sleep in here. I can take your room.” He said.

You frowned. “What?”

“Every time I see you, you are freezing. And it’s because Amarantha put you in a room that is meant to be a cooler. Why it’s attached to a bedroom, I don’t know. But I don’t think it’s the proper place for the Princess of the Night Court to sleep.”

“But… won’t you get cold?” You asked, glancing to the door that connected the rooms.

“I run hot.” He said, a slight smirk coming to his lips.

“Why are you being nice to me?” You asked.

“Maybe it will be beneficial to me later on.” He said and shrugged. “But I cannot bring myself to harm you.” He said. “In anyway.”

And he showed it. From then on, you stayed in his room. Soon enough, you offered him to come to your room too. Even with the fire, you were still cold. You supposed it was the lack of food, of sunlight, of fresh air. It was not good for your body. So, you asked him to join you in the bed. Just to sleep. And he obliged, staying on his side of the bed. Until one night, where you were particularly cold after a ‘winter’ ball was thrown.

You turned over to Eris, who seemed to be asleep. You were in an oversized sweater and some loose pants. Courtesy of your wardrobe he provided for you. “Eris?” You whispered.

His head turned towards you as he opened one eye, a small smile coming to his lips.

He would act like this whenever you were alone. When no one could see you, he would show you a soft side. A side that had you wondering where all the cruel things said about him came from. This couldn’t be the same male that left your cousin for dead in the Autumn forest. He was so different than how Mor described him. If he was helping you, why wouldn’t he help her?

“Yes, princess?” He asked.

You weren’t even technically a princess, but he insisted on using the nickname. You were surprised it didn’t bother you.

“Can you… make the fire warmer? I’m cold.” You said quietly.

His eyes flickered to the burning hearth before looking back at you. “Can I try something before?” He asked.

You searched his eyes and, as usual, found no malice. Maybe a hint of mischief, if you detected it correctly. You gave him a nod, narrowing his eyes as he asked for you to turn on your side. Your back facing him.

“Do you trust me?” He asked when he noticed your hesitance. You paused at the question. You’ve been asking yourself the same thing for months. Almost a year now. Could you trust Eris? “Remember what I said? I won’t hurt you.” He said.

You slowly took a deep breath, turning your body so your back was facing him. You tensed up when you felt him shift on the bed, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling her closer to his warm body. “What- what are you doing?” You asked.

“I’m going to make you warm.” He whispered in l your ear, the breath sending a shiver down your spine. In the best way.

Suddenly, you felt his hand settling on your bicep, and your arm instantly warmed up. You relaxed into the warm, smiling to yourself.

“Is this better?” He asked, rubbing your arm up and done as he held you close.

“Much.” You answered, even leaning into his chest more.

Eris became your anchor Under the Mountain after that. You often found yourself clutching his bicep, not wanting to be far from him. He stayed true to his word. He would not hurt you. And, apparently, he wouldn’t let anyone else hurt you either. One day, you were in the throne room as the court reveled, sitting on a loveseat while you waited for Eris to bring you something to drink. One particularly drunk made stumbled his way to sit next to you and got too close for your liking. Right as he was about to wrap an arm around you, Eris hauled him out of the seat. He pushed him back and said something with a growl you couldn’t hear, and then the male was running out of the room. Not many males approached you after that.

Maybe it was because your brother was gone for so long, or maybe it was because Eris was genuine to you. Even when you were out of the room, when he wore that cool uninterested mask, he was gentle with you. His touch was never too tight or too harsh. Was never too high or too low. He made you comfortable. You were starting to like him. As a friend, at least.

For the next 40 years, you were always around him. Even when Amarantha gave you more freedom, you wanted to be near Eris. Rhys started to notice, but didn't say anything as it was only apparent for your affection to his enemy before Summer, Winter, and Day rebelled. And then Amarantha's reign became increasingly strict. With only High Lord dead, and a new one taking his place, there was more tension than ever. Especially because anyone who was caught doing anything suspicious was whipped or tortured in front of the court. Sometimes, your brother would be the one to hold their minds and do it.

However, after finding out that Autumn and Night had nothing to do with the rebellion, she decided to be nice one day and allow you to the upper levels. She gave you in particular one rule, do not go outside. You couldn't help but watch as your brother went out on one balcony. And on the other, Beron and his sons were laughing. Actually laughing. It was only one month when the High Lord of Summer was killed and a bunch of Winter children were closed. Children. And Amarantha was celebrating you all.

Eris, however, was sat across from you on the couch. He noticed the way you longed to go outside, realizing while he was allowed out to visit his court with his father, you were stuck Under the Mountain. You hadn't been outside in more than 40 years.

"You should go, celebrate." You muttered, motioning to his family. "You may not be able to leave for along time." You said, frowning as you looked to your hands.

"I'm just fine in here." Eris said, resisting the urge to lean over and grab your hand. While you never crossed a line of being intimate, or anywhere near it, you had become friendly with Eris. You were more than glad to curl into his side at night, hold his hand at the dining table, or grab his arm while you walked around the passageways.

Before you could suggest it again, one of Eris's brothers peeked his head into the room. "Eris, bring your whore in here." He said.

You internally winced at the term, and Eris glared at his brother. While many people had called you the same, Eris normally corrected them. Especially his brothers.

"She isn't my whore." He growled out. "And if you call her that one more time, Sol, and I will rip your throat out." He said. "Besides, you know she can't go outside."

"Ah, Amarantha will never know." Sol said and smirked. "We'll distract the bat, you take her out there for some alone time." He said, making his way over to the balcony where Rhys was standing. As Sol pulled him inside, you could visibly see and hear Rhys's growl. He didn't want to be here, but if he could watch you amongst the Vanserras, he would.

"Sol-" Eris called out but groaned when him and one of the other brothers pushed Rhys out to talk to Beron and the Lady of Autumn. About what, you didn't really care. You stayed in your seat, taking a deep breath.

"I could at least open the door." He said and stood up, going over to the free balcony and opening the door to let in the breeze. You stood up, standing in front of the threshold. You closed your eyes as you felt the wind on your face, even if it was light.

The smile that came to your lips took Eris's breath away. Even in this terrible place, you could still find small bits of joy.

You looked down at the gap between you and the rest of the world, Eris standing on the other side. "Thank you." You said quietly to him, holding out your hand for him to take. He squeezed your hand, fighting the urge to pull you over the threshold and into his chest. He could image your giggle and scolding before you stepped back into the room. But before he could answer you, Amarantha burst through the doors with two of her sentries.

"Seems like the little princess can't follow the rules... Ah, Eris, are you trying to disobey my command?" She asked.

Your eyes widened and you immediately dropped Eris's hand. "I didn't go outside." You said quickly.

"No, but you were about to. And Eris was going to help you." She said. Rhys and the others came in.

"Now that I ponder it, I do remember hearing about the two of you sneaking around the passage ways months ago. That wasn't to spy, was it?" She asked. "Acting as lust-crazed fools?"

You never once showed any interest in Eris like that, and yet everyone just assumed the two of you were sleeping together. Or more like Eris was fucking you as he pleased.

"Nothing to say? Too bad." She said and nodded towards the sentries, one of them grabbing you and the other grabbing Eris. Rhys lunged forward to try and protect you, but Eris's brother's grabbed him.

"Relax, bastard, no one's going to hurt the princess." Sol teased.

"What is the meaning of this, my queen?" Beron asked, the ever-loving servant. His wife next to him looked completely uninterested other than a hint of worry for her son.

"We will make sure Eris and the princess never sneak around again." She said, giving a small wave before walking out of the room.

Before you knew it, you were standing in the throne room with Eris on his knees. One of Amarantha's sentries had a whip in his hands. "This is what you get for disobeying my command. And you get to watch princess, for luring him like you did the former High Lord of Spring." She said.

You looked at Eris, then at Rhys, pleading him with your eyes to do something, anything to stop this from happening. Rhys just tilted his head and stood beside Amarantha. Of course he thought Eris tried to pull you out and he would gladly see Eris punished over you.

The sound of the whip rang out, skin ripping underneath it. Beron and his other sons stood, stoically watching the punishment.

"How many month ago was it? 5? You've been sneaking around 5 months?" She asked. You weren't even sneaking around, you were simply walking. "5 more." She said and you struggled against the sentries holding you back. "Oh and another 5 for all those months lying to me." She said.

More sounds of the whip. More skin ripping. You watched as Eris clenched his teeth, never yielding a yell or scream. Like he had endured this before. You, on the other hand, were silently crying. You desperately tried to hold back your tears, but you couldn't.

After the final sound of the whip crack rang out, Eris sagged to the floor. "And 10 more, because I don't like hurting my friends." She said.

"Stop!" You screamed, an instinctual tug at your gut telling you he would bleed out if he received any more. "I'll do anything, stop this. Eris didn't do anything wrong." You begged, the sentries yanking you back as your legs almost gave out from under you.

Rhys shot you a look that essentially told you to shut your mouth, but you didn't see it. You were staring into Amarantha's cold eyes.

"Anything?" She asked. When you let out a whimper and nodded, a side smirk came to her red lips. "What about agreeing to be locked in sweet Eris's room under I die?" She asked. "Seems like a fair trade, since you disobeyed my command of not going outside. And you can't roam the halls with him either."

You let out a gulp, hearing a small whisper from Eris telling you not to do it. "So long as you, or anyone of your behalf, hurts him again. I will stay in his room." You said.

"Unless I command you out to court, you will stay in his room. And I, nor anyone on my behalf, will not hurt him. Until I die." She said.

You stood up straighter, feeling Rhys's eyes on you. "We have a bargain." You said.

"That we do." She said as you used your magic to imprint a tattoo on your back, right where Eris's scars would be. In doing so, you did the same for Amarantha, who only smirked more. "Take him to a healer. And take her to the room." She said. You stumbled as they pushed you towards the giant doors. You watched as Eris's sagging body was hauled up by his brothers, nearly sobbing at the sight of him.

As the sentries pushed you through Eris's room's door and shut it behind you, you suddenly realized what you agreed to. You were going to be trapped in this room forever. Unless she wanted to torment you more. Or she died.

What did you just do?

Part Two

A/N: This was so much longer than I expected and it's not even finished yet.. There will be at least another part! Hope you all enjoyed!

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