#Eris x reader

[idkyetxoxo]

One | Kindling Frost | Fire and Ice

Pairing - Eris Vanserra x reader

Word count - 2.3k

Warnings - Beron being a little shit (who's surprised x)

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Fire and ice may sound poetic. But in truth? They war. They burn. They clash and crack and consume until only one remains.

Or so the stories say.

But I have learned that stories often lie. Sometimes...they just haven't caught up with reality yet.

Another day. Another meeting. Another gathering of ancient power and political posturing beneath vaulted ceilings and the weight of centuries.

The High Lords of Prythian were assembled once again, a rare, unsettling occasion. 

The air around us shimmered with magic and mistrust, and though no swords were drawn, the tension was a blade to the throat.

I sat poised beside my brother Kallias, our court's High Lord—our calm amidst frost and fury. His mate, Viviane, was nestled close to him, their fingers brushing occasionally, smiles exchanged like quiet secrets between blizzards. 

They were winter's softer edge. Love woven through ice.

It warmed something brittle in me to see them like that. After everything we'd endured, after the cruelty of that red-haired queen and the centuries of silence that followed Kallias deserved peace. He deserved joy.

Even if I was still trying to find my own.

The conversation between courts droned on, growing thornier with each passing minute. Accusations were veiled in civility, voices rising like tempests then cooling into indifference. 

The Night Court murmured in velvet tones, the Day Court gleamed with polished pride, and Summer's emissaries shimmered with the golden ease of their land.

I half-listened, but my skin prickled.

I knew that feeling. I knew those eyes. Watching. Again.

I had become intimately familiar with his stare, how it clung like a raging fire, how it saw too much and said too little. 

Eris Vanserra, heir to the Autumn Court. The flame I could never seem to freeze.

My gaze drifted slowly, as if drawn by an invisible thread, and there he was.

Eris lounged with effortless arrogance, his red hair aglow beneath the faelight chandeliers, his posture relaxed yet alert. A predator in no hurry to strike. His amber eyes found mine across the room like they always did—like they couldn't help themselves.

That stare was a brand, hot and merciless. It made my blood churn, my walls rise. 

I hated it. I hated how part of me waited for it.

He smirked. One brow lifted in that signature expression I'd grown far too familiar with, amusement mingled with challenge. And then, the audacity. A wink.

I held his gaze a beat longer than I should have, masking the skip of my pulse with studied detachment. I gave him nothing—at least, I hoped that's what it looked like.

Because Eris Vanserra was danger dressed in silk and smiles. He was fire in its most treacherous form, not wild, but controlled. Beautiful. Calculated. Capable of searing straight through steel.

And yet... I watched him, too.

Until I was jerked back to the present by a voice like snapping ice.

Beron. The Autumn High Lord, Eris's father was speaking now, the bite in his words aimed directly at Kallias. My brother didn't flinch, but the insult was clear. Another jab cloaked in cold diplomacy.

My hands clenched in my lap.

Things were starting to heat. Not in temperature though I wouldn't have been surprised if the walls began to sweat but in words. In veiled threats and flinty glances.

Beron had found his rhythm now, hurling barbed comments like knives across the table. None were spared. Not Helion, not Thesan, not even Rhysand, who only smiled with that unreadable Night Court calm. 

But the Autumn Lord's true venom—his obsession was always aimed at Winter.

My brother held his ground with frosted poise, letting Beron's words slide off him like sleet on a frozen lake. But I saw the tension in his jaw, the tight set of his shoulders. 

And I knew the wound was deeper than it seemed.

"You say you value neutrality," Beron sneered, leaning forward with that ever-present gleam of cruelty in his eyes, "but you hid behind your walls during the war. Convenient, wasn't it? To play the ice prince while others bled for this realm."

He paused just long enough to make us feel the coming blow. His gaze slid to Kallias, then to me, and back again.

"Like children, let's say."

The words hung in the air, sharp and cruel and stinking of rot.

Children. He meant our children, the ones Amarantha slaughtered while we were trapped, helpless behind the mountain of her cruelty. He meant the youngest of our court, the future stolen from cradles and nursery wings. Babies whose names we still spoke in prayers, in whispers, in silence.

And he said it like it was a jest. Like it was strategy.

I stiffened. A roaring filled my ears, colder than any blizzard. My pulse pounded beneath my skin, loud and furious and wild. 

Beside me, Kallias's jaw clenched so tightly I thought his teeth might shatter.

"That is enough," I said, the words slicing through the chamber like a blade of living ice.

They had come unbidden, the fury in my chest spilling free before I could sheath it. I didn't regret it. Not even a little.

My voice echoed against the stone walls like a shattering icicle. Heads turned. Power stirred.

"You don't get to question his loyalty," I continued, rising just enough in my seat to meet Beron's vile gaze head-on. "Not after the cowardice your court displayed under your rule. Not when your own sons are too afraid to look their enemies in the eye unless they outnumber them five to one."

A hush fell. Thick. Daring anyone to break it.

Beron's eyes snapped to mine, sharp, golden, and furious now.

"I wasn't aware the Winter Court sent its lapdogs to bark in its High Lord's stead," he said, his tone dripping with disdain. "Or is it that your brother is too weak to defend himself?"

I nearly lunged across the room.

My fingers curled around the carved armrest of my chair so tightly that frost bloomed beneath them, crawling outward in a delicate, deadly lace. Ice flared along my skin, power surging just beneath the surface like the crackle of a coming storm.

I wanted to say something. To hurl the truth in his face and scorch him with winter's wrath but before I could speak, a voice cut through the stillness. Low. Calm. Lethal.

"Father. Please." The words were quiet, yet somehow they echoed louder than mine had. 

The entire room turned toward him.

Eris Vanserra hadn't moved from his seat, hadn't even shifted position but the change in the room was immediate. 

That voice... it held no warmth, no affection. Just cold steel, wrapped in silk.

His eyes were on Beron and in them burned something darker than fire, restraint so tightly wound it was dangerous.

Beron's nostrils flared, and for the first time that day, he said nothing. Perhaps because he knew what would happen if he did.

Silence stretched, taut and uncertain. Then, like a balm over the crackling tension, Thesan's voice rang out, smooth and golden.

"Let us keep this civil," the Dawn Court's High Lord said, his gaze sweeping the room like a gentle rebuke. "Or we can all go back to our courts and let the realm burn in our absence."

Helion gave an exaggerated sigh. "Cauldron forbid we miss another chance at passive aggression and political pissing contests."

A few scattered chuckles broke the tension—barely.

But my eyes were still on Eris.  And his were still on me. There was no smirk now. No mocking tilt to his lips. Just a look. Quiet. Intense. Measured.

He had stepped in. He had silenced Beron—for me?

No. No, not for me. That wasn't how this game worked. Eris Vanserra didn't do things for people. Especially not Winter Court nobility. Especially not me.

And yet... my chest tightened, confused and unwilling.

Fire and ice could never coexist.

But gods, didn't they look beautiful trying?

Eris's POV - 

The fire in my veins has always burned hot. Rage. Power. Hunger. All the usual suspects.

But when I look at her, the embodiment of Winter itself, with frost in her veins and silence in her soul that fire doesn't smother beneath her chill. 

It ignites. Multiplies. Shoots through me like wildfire, seeking places even my control can't contain.

So when Beron opened his mouth in that meeting, spitting poison, twisting the blade into old wounds, when he invoked the slaughter of Winter's children with that smug grin and hollow gaze, my restraint didn't falter.

It shattered.

"Father. Please." 

Simple. Quiet. But the sharpest edge I could offer without plunging it into his heart. I didn't think twice. Not when it meant shielding her.

Even if she'd never asked me to. Even if she'd never so much as granted me more than an indifferent glance before today.

I knew the price I'd pay for that moment, Beron never forgets a slight, especially not from his heir. But in that instant, I didn't care.

Not when she was looking at me. Not when something in her eyes beyond the frost and discipline flickered. Recognition. Surprise. Maybe... a question.

I met her gaze without flinching.

And for the first time in a long, long while, I felt like I wasn't playing a role in someone else's twisted theatre. I was simply being. 

Flame to her ice. Heat to her silence.

Hours passed. The meeting ended in a haze of diplomacy and bruised egos. The courtiers and emissaries dispersed like leaves on a wind. 

My father lingered, still attempting to provoke Kallias in some private, petty contest of masculinity and power.

Let him waste his breath. I had other priorities.

I found her easily—because I always do. Even when I try not to look. Even when I pretend the pull between us is only curiosity, only the kind of fascination you feel for a rare and dangerous animal.

She stood on a stone balcony overlooking the vast expanse of the Dawn Court, where the light never quite sleeps. 

Rose-gold skies stretched endlessly behind her, casting a halo over her figure.

She looked like Winter's princess, born of snow and wind. A creature carved of frost and moonlight.

Her dress was a pale, icy blue, sheer in the breeze, with sleeves like snowfall and a neckline that dared you to stare too long. 

Dawn's elegance, yes, but every inch of her screamed Winter. Untouchable. Unmelting.

I approached slowly, footsteps light. I didn't want to scare her. Or maybe I just wanted to enjoy the way the light played on her skin a few seconds longer.

"A real display of fire in there," I said, voice low and almost amused. "Especially for someone born of ice."

She turned. Just a tilt of her head, measured and poised but her eyes met mine, and for the first time, they didn't look past me. They saw me.

One elegant brow arched, a quiet challenge resting there. "Didn't know Autumn Court heirs made it a habit to bite at their own father's ankles."

I gave a slow smile. "Only when the dog deserves it."

She huffed a breath, almost a laugh. Then leaned back against the bannister, like she wasn't sure yet whether I was worth the effort of standing upright.

"They say fire and ice are opposites," she said, her gaze drifting out toward the horizon. "Too different to coexist. Too volatile to touch."

"Maybe," I murmured, stepping closer. "But isn't that what makes it interesting?"

She glanced at me from the corner of her eye, the barest hint of a smirk on her lips. "Or dangerous."

I shrugged. "Often the same thing."

The wind caught her hair then, lifting it slightly, brushing it across her cheek. And gods, if I wasn't struck again by how beautiful she was, not just in body, but in that hard-won grace. That quiet fury. That unbearable strength masked in silence.

"You didn't have to speak up," she said at last, her voice soft, quieter now. No edge, no frost. Just... truth. And I knew how hard that truth must have been for her to admit.

"I know," I answered.

She turned a little then, not to face me fully, but enough for me to catch the slight furrow between her brows. Enough to feel the cool ripple of her presence brushing against my own like early snow settling on warm earth.

"Then why did you?" she asked.

And that was the real question, wasn't it? I looked at her—really looked. 

The girl made of snowstorms and scars. The sister of the only High Lord with a soul untouched by rot. The one who never flinched when I stared too long across war tables and courtyards.

"Because someone needed to," I said.

It wasn't romantic. It wasn't a declaration. But it was real. And maybe that's why it hit something beneath her calm.

She didn't respond immediately. Just let the wind wrap around her again as she looked out over the marble terraces and pale waters of the Dawn Court. 

The silence stretched between us not uncomfortable, but full of things neither of us could name.

I shifted, leaning just slightly against the opposite end of the stone bannister she rested on. Not too close. But closer than I had any right to be.

"I know what it's like," I said, after a long beat. "To be surrounded by people who mistake cruelty for strength. Who'd rather see you burn than admit you never needed their fire to begin with."

She turned to me then—fully. Slowly. Her gaze unreadable, but steady.

"And what makes you think I've never needed fire?"

I offered a small, crooked smile. "Because you are Winter. And Winter doesn't burn. It endures."

A flash in her eyes, barely there. Maybe surprise. Maybe approval. Maybe just the weight of being seen for the first time in a long while.

She looked away again, back toward the endless sky bleeding soft amber into rose.

"Enduring isn't the same as living," she said.

And there it was, that crack in the ice. That thread of something too complex for words, hanging in the air between us.

I didn't touch her. I wanted to. Just to feel if her skin was as cool as her stare, or if the pulse beneath it beat as fast as mine did now. But I knew better. 

She wasn't something to be touched on a whim. She was a storm you waited for. A silence you listened to.

"I should go," she said eventually, though she hadn't moved.

"So should I," I replied but neither of us did.

And in that quiet space between leaving and staying, where no words passed and no walls fell, something sparked.

Not a blaze. Not yet. Just the faintest flicker of fire meeting frost.

A/n - My latest series, Eris edition!!

Basically, this is a vibe-setting part—a little glimpse into the story x

We dive headfirst into the tension filled deliciousness between Eris and our icy Winter Court reader. They've got history, they've got obvious chemistry, and they've got absolutely no business wanting anything to do with each other—which obviously means they're doomed (or blessed?) to collide :)

Let me know what you think and thank you for reading <3

Fire and Ice tag list - @thisfireheart @smol-grandpa @theworthlessqueen @awkardnerd @seasttarr @foreverme123

[sweetpeaaquarius]

Burned into Memory

Request for: @booksstarryskies

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Best Friend f!reader

POV: Eris and the reader

Summary: Eris Vanserra has always been a jealous man, but never like this. Eris is hopelessly in love with his best friend. The only soul who’s ever truly seen him beneath the sharp edges and carefully maintained cruelty expected of the Autumn Court heir. But his duty, danger, and the brutal legacy of his father have left Eris too fearful to claim what he wants most. Her.

Warnings: emotional repression, trauma, parental abuse (physical and emotional), descriptions of violence and injury, jealousy and possessiveness in a romantic context, references to past character death, angst, fluff

Word count: 3,254

Image Credit: beaudhikin - Pinterest (AI Modified Image)

Eris Vanserra was born with fire in his lungs and thorns in his mouth.

Heir to the Autumn Court. General of its armies. Son of a cruel High Lord and a colder legacy. He moved like a storm with molten rage wrapped in untouchable grace. The court whispered his name like a curse, a prayer, a warning. They feared him. They feared the smirk that never quite touched his eyes, the power that crackled like a broken promise at his fingertips, the silence that came before he struck.

No one dared look too long.

No one spoke unless spoken to.

Except for her.

She was the only softness in a life carved from stone. His closest friend, his secret, his only tether to something real. She had been at his side since they were children, through court cruelty, through the agony of his father’s punishments, through his rise from beaten boy to cold commander. 

When blood slicked his hands, she was the one who washed it off. When pain hollowed him out, she was the only one who stayed. There were moments, rare and fleeting when seeing her had felt like mercy. Like a quiet apology from the Mother herself for all he’d endured.

Childhood thoughts. Blunted memories dulled by time and pain. Even now, the memory of her was often the only warmth in the cold of his soul.

When his father’s guards had nearly beaten him to death, ribs shattered, breath rattling, blood pooling on cold stone, she had been the only one he let near him. Her touch stitched him back together; she was the only one he’d allowed to see him broken.

She was the one he trusted to deliver his message to Tamlin when Lucien fled to the Spring Court, running from his father, his brothers, after Jesminda’s death. Even then, with blood still on the floor and fire in his lungs, he prayed for her to be spared from his father’s cruelty, hoping the violence would never reach her, that she would stay, and that she would survive.

That she would remain his. His anchor. His undoing. His only softness in a world that demanded him to burn.

Now that softness, the only thing that had ever belonged to him without condition, was in someone else’s arms.

Eris stood motionless at the edge of the ballroom, flame roaring beneath his skin. She smiled up at Andras Hallow, a noble from the Dawn Court, tall, golden-skinned, sun-drenched in twilight robes lined with gold thread. He looked like a painting. Beautiful. Polished.

And entirely unaware that he had just stepped into Eris Vanserra’s heated stare.

Eris had once respected him. Andras was a decorated soldier. A diplomat’s son. Gracious. Honourable. The kind of male the courts adored.

But now, Eris was going to kill him. Right here, under the faelights. Among silk and music and the flickering smiles of diplomats and enemies alike.

He would burn through his reputation. Burn through the threads of the fragile alliances his father held together with blood and bribes. 

Burn through the delicate silk of her dress, if that’s what it took to pull her away, to remind her who she was. Who she belonged to.

His magic coiled at his fingertips, amber and scarlet, heat trembling just beneath his skin. His rings pulsed with it. The air tasted of smoke.

One glance from her would’ve stopped him.

One glance should have.

She didn’t look.

She didn’t feel the fire licking at the edge of his control. Didn’t see the way his jaw locked or the twitch in his fingers, barely restrained. She didn’t know the war he was already prepared to wage for her.

God, it terrified him, not the rage, but the way his chest hollowed at the thought that she might be smiling at Andras the way she smiled at him.

That she might be drifting.

That she might be choosing someone who wasn’t him.

A tight breath hissed through his teeth. The heat gathered behind them, slow and sharp and unrelenting. Rage. Jealousy. That unbearable, helpless fury. That sickening sense of powerlessness.

He couldn’t look away, not even as the edges of his vision blurred. As she laughed softly and radiantly, something inside him snapped.

Eris stepped forward. It was only half a step. 

He hadn’t meant to move, hadn’t thought to. His body reacted on instinct, trained to strike before thought could intervene. Trained to protect what was his.

Before he could take another breath, a voice broke through the haze.

“Lord Vanserra,” a courtier murmured, bowing low. “The Day Court delegation is requesting your presence at the east table.”

Eris didn’t blink. He didn’t even turn his head. His eyes remained fixed on her, on the curve of her mouth, the way her hand brushed against Andras’s sleeve, the ease in her expression like she had no idea what she was doing to him.

“I’ll be there in a moment,” he said, voice low and cold.

The courtier flinched and fled.

Still, she didn’t look at him.

That silence, that unawareness, was what undid him most of all. Not the dancing, not the laughter, not even the gentle touch she gave to someone else. It was the fact that she didn’t see the war inside him. Didn’t feel it.

He turned on his heel, jaw clenched, each step deliberate. Measured. Like a man walking away from a cliff edge, not because the fall wouldn’t be worth it, but because he knew once he jumped, there’d be no return.

The jealousy gripped his throat, hot, wild, and suffocating. It sat behind his ribs like a living creature, gnashing its teeth. 

He was a Vanserra. Trained to command, to kill, to rule.

But this? This was agony.

He reached the east table. Sat. Spoke. Or pretended to.

Something about trade routes. Eris nodded once and muttered something diplomatic. He didn’t hear it. Not really. It didn’t matter.

All he could think about was the curve of her neck as she danced, the sound of her laughter, and the fact that she hadn’t looked for him once.

Reader POV -

She laughed, soft and polite, at Andras’s comment about Autumn Court wine being brewed for battle, not drinking. She took another sip from her goblet. Let it warm her tongue and distract her from the rising ache in her chest.

These dances always made her feel fragile. The silk gowns. The endless charm. The watching eyes. She’d grown accustomed to playing her part. In a court built of fire and masks, there was no space for carelessness. There is no room for softness.

Andras was kind, easy to talk to, and gentle in a way Autumn males never were. But her smile never quite reached her eyes, and she knew it.

She glanced over his shoulder.

Eris.

Standing like a flame in stillness. His presence, sharp and magnetic, drew her gaze like gravity. Even across the ballroom, she could feel the tension in him, the heat.

Her breath caught.

Had he seen her dancing?

Her stomach twisted, not with guilt, but with something harder to pinpoint. Something sharper. He wasn’t looking at her.

He’d turned away, his back straight and shoulders rigid. The fabric of his forest-green jacket stretched across his frame, her favourite colour.

She tore her eyes away, forcing herself to concentrate. Andras kept talking, still charming, still touching her hand in that gentle, practised way.

She wasn’t listening.

Her mind drifted away. To Eris’s flame-coloured hair. His pale hands. The way his slender fingers laced with hers, guiding her through the steps of a waltz while she clumsily stepped on his toes. She smiled at the memory.

She blinked. Andras had asked her a question, something about the customs of Autumn Court. She answered effortlessly, lips curving, eyes fluttering just right. Perfect.

Andras smiled and brushed his thumb across the back of her hand. It was a playful gesture that made her heart flutter, but not from desire. Her eyes drifted away again. 

She found Eris’s profile, the sharp jaw, the elegant nose, and the forced, polished smile he wore like a blade between his teeth.

She sighed softly as Andras chuckled again, but her eyes had already drifted down Eris’s throat to the collar of his jacket. She imagined the skin beneath, pale, warm, and familiar.

She licked her lips, took another sip of wine, and forced her attention back to the man before her.

But the truth burned quietly, dangerously, beneath her skin: Eris was too far away, and she didn’t want him to be.

The music swelled again. Andras’s hand came to rest atop hers, gentle and respectful, and it forced her polished smile deeper into her skin.

Still, her thoughts stayed with the heir across the room.

She could feel the weight of Andras’s touch, warm and gentle, but it wasn’t the right hand. 

It wasn’t the hand that wiped her tears when she first fell off her horse as Eris tried to teach her to ride. 

Nor was it the hand that traced lazy circles over her palm beneath star-studded skies after weeks apart, nights when Eris returned from distant outposts, exhausted and silent.

It wasn’t the hand that had always, always found hers, even in the dark.

“Would you like to dance again?” Andras asked, hand tightening around hers. 

Her eyes had already found Eris again. He stood half-turned, deep in discussion with a Day Court diplomat. His mouth moved, but his body was tense as if the conversation was a rope fraying strand by strand.

Like if he turned and saw her once more in another man’s company, that rope would break. 

Maybe she wanted it to. Perhaps she was over-pretending she hadn’t already made her choice. 

Her pulse fluttered as she gently but firmly pulled her hand away from Andras.

“I need a moment,” she said, offering a soft smile.

Before Andras could speak, she was walking.

Not quick, but the sort that made people step aside without thinking.

All she saw was him. Still turned halfway, pretending not to notice her. Skirts brushed her legs as she approached, each step more steady than the last, her fingers curled slightly as if holding something fragile and sharp.

He noticed her just before she reached him. His eyes, wildfire and smoke, landed on her, and she saw it. Not fury. Not arrogance. 

Hurt. 

The kind that only she would ever know how to read. The kind he would never, ever name.

She stood before him, her heart pounding so loudly she thought he might hear it. The words weren’t planned, but they came out anyway.

“Would you dance with me?” she asked quietly.

His lips parted. She could see the storm behind his eyes, the words struggling to escape.

He wanted to argue, to spill his bitterness and fury, but he only nodded once and offered her his hand. 

Not as a prince claiming what was his, nor in smug victory, but like a soldier surrendering to a truth too old and too scared to fight any longer.

Their fingers touched. He drew her closer, his arm wrapping around her waist, his hold on her hand softer than it should be; she forgot how to breathe.

They moved together. The music changed into something old, composed of notes and rhythm, feeling more ritualistic than a simple dance between friends. He didn’t look at her at first. His jaw was clenched, shoulders stiff, eyes fixed somewhere over her shoulder as if the closeness physically hurt.

“You didn’t save me from those dances,” she teased her voice light but edged in something quieter. “You know I’m not very good.”

“You seemed to be doing just fine,” he said. His voice was low, rough, tinted with a bitterness she hadn’t heard from him in years.

She tilted her head to look at him beneath the faelight, all shadow and sculpted grace, his mouth a blade, his eyes refusing to meet hers. Her fingers tightened in his. Her breath caught on something sharp in her chest.

“Why are you angry?” she asked softly, barely above a whisper.

His jaw twitched.

“I’m not,” he said, a lie so obvious it almost echoed in the quiet between them.

Her brows lifted slightly, the corner of her mouth tightening. “Then look at me.”

He didn’t.

So she stepped closer, her chest pressed against his. Just enough to make avoiding her impossible. Enough to feel the heat of his magic, the tension that coiled in him like a storm barely held back.

“Eris.”

The sound of his name from her mouth shattered something inside him. His gaze dropped to hers, and what she saw, that hollow ache, that raw desire carefully hidden, was nothing short of heartbreaking.

“I don’t want to share you,” he said quietly. “Not with him. Not with anyone.”

The breath she drew stung in her throat.

“You don’t have to,” she said.

He didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe.

For a heartbeat, the music seemed distant. The whole ballroom seemed to exist elsewhere, the world shrinking down to the space between them and all the things they’d never dared to name.

“I mean it,” she whispered. “I never wanted it to be anyone else.”

Something broke in him then. Not loudly. Not violently. Like a knot in his chest had finally come undone after years too tightly wound.

He exhaled, a soft, shuddering sound, and then he pulled her closer.

Not enough to draw stares. Not enough to be inappropriate. But enough that she felt the shift in his hand, now pressing at the small of her back. His palm settled into her, claiming space as if it had always belonged.

He danced like someone afraid to let go. Every touch was subtle but constant, fingers brushing her lower spine, the lightest graze of his thumb against hers as they turned, a hand at her waist tightening briefly when others passed too close.

His presence sank into her skin. Into her blood. Until she didn’t know where the music ended and he began.

The court around them blurred into colour and faelight.

“Do you remember when I taught you to dance?” he murmured, voice low near her ear. There was a faint smile on his lips now, a rare one, warm and real.

“I do,” she said, a grin tugging at her mouth. “Do you remember when I taught you how to tie your shoes?”

He huffed a laugh. “I remember you yelling at me until I did it correctly.”

“I remember you telling me you didn’t need to learn because you had a maid to do it for you.”

“You called me a good-for-nothing prince.”

“And you called me a witch,” she countered, eyebrows lifting as he led her in another turn.

He tilted his head back and laughed, a full, deep laugh that sparked like a flicker in the air. Heads turned. The ballroom, accustomed for years to Eris Vanserra’s coldness, was surprised by the sound. She sensed the subtle shift of attention, but he didn’t seem to notice or care. 

When he looked at her again, the look in his eyes changed just a little.

Warmer. Darker. Possessive.

They danced until the music changed, and the ballroom transformed into a canvas of golds and reds, bathed in firelight.

They slowed, drifting naturally toward the edge of the ballroom. His hand slid down her back, lower than it ever had before. Steady, claiming. Confident in a way that felt neither rushed nor secretive. Just inevitable.

Her eyes flicked briefly toward Andras. For a heartbeat, she wondered if he might be watching, if he looked hurt, or angry. But he was deep in conversation with a winged fae from Day Court.

Good.

She leaned into Eris’s warmth, into the quiet pulse of his magic as they slipped through a side corridor they both knew by heart, steps silent on wooden floors. Flickering candlelight danced along the walls, casting golden shadows across his profile.

A tall window opened onto the terrace. Beyond, the stars of the Autumn Court spilled like scattered embers across the dark. Amber and gold, red and rust. The scent of dry leaves, woodsmoke, and something unmistakably Eris lingered in the air.

“I never thought Eris Vanserra would be jealous,” she murmured, teasing gently.

He turned his head toward her, one brow lifting, but there was no smirk. Not this time.

“I have been,” he said, quietly and plainly. “More than I’ll ever admit.”

He looked down at the forest below, watching the leaves catch fire in the light. He took a slow and measured breath.

“I had to pretend it didn’t matter,” he added, voice low now. “If I’d let myself believe I had something to lose… After what my father did to Jes—”

The name caught in his throat like thorns. He didn’t finish it. The memory flared too hot, too close, his brother’s grief, his own punishment, and her, the one he trusted to carry his message across a border.

She looked away, toward the stars still burning behind the tree line.

“I used to wish you’d fight for me,” she said softly.

“I did,” he answered. “You just never saw it.”

Silence stretched between them, not cold, not empty, but weighted. Dense with all the things unsaid. Years of sidelong glances, near misses, touches that lingered just a breath too long.

Then, he stepped closer.

His presence folded around her like smoke and wind and memory. His hand settled on the small of her back again, no longer tentative, no longer asking. It was a touch that said mine. Even if he’d never dared speak the word aloud.

He didn’t ask. Didn’t pause.

He just touched her like he couldn’t help it anymore.

She turned slowly to face him, close now, too close for anything else to exist between them. Only the tremble of wine-warmed limbs and something fragile.

Her voice was a whisper. “Are you going to kiss me?”

His eyes, molten and unreadable, held hers. He didn’t move at first. Didn’t breathe. Then his voice came, hoarse and low.

“I am.”

His hand rose, fingers brushing her spine before settling beneath her jaw. Steady. A promise. The kind of touch that could set her aflame.

“I’m going to kiss you,” he whispered, “until your lips forget anyone else’s name.”

He kissed her like it had lived inside him for years. Like it had nearly ruined him to hold back this long. His mouth claimed hers with fire and restraint, with hunger and control, like he knew how to take his time even while craving everything all at once.

One hand cradled her jaw. The other pressed firmly to her back, anchoring her to him like he’d finally allowed himself to stop running.

Her fingers curled in his jacket. Her heart pounded against his ribs. The world shrank to the heat between their mouths and the quiet inhale of her name between kisses.

When they broke apart, breaths sharp and uneven, he didn’t let her go.

He stayed close, resting his forehead against hers. Neither of them spoke; they just stood there, heartbeats matching, tethered by something that had always been more than friendship, something quiet and sharp and real.

She smiled, the corner of her mouth brushing his. “We’re not just friends anymore, are we?”

He closed his eyes, exhaled through his nose, and murmured, “We never were.”

He kissed her again, like he would never get the chance.

[fineghkst]

The traveler II

🍁🍂 Part I 🍂🍁

(a/n): hiii, it took me a while to write this part. honestly, i almost didn’t post it (was this close 🤏🏼 to giving up)

When Eris Vanserra finally finds his mate (eris vanserra x female reader)

warnings: mentions of beron (ew); a little bit of angst; fluff; suggestive

“I didn’t expect you to be this… quiet, Vanserra.” She said after some time of silence.

Eris glaze was on her. After months, she was there looking at him, with her scent invading his nostrils and almost driving him insane. The bond shined, as if trying to pull Eris towards her. He fight against it, denying his own instincts.

“You shouldn’t be here.” He finally said, his voice sharp as a knife.

Having his mate inside the Autumn Court was his biggest dream and nightmare at the same time.

If Beron only find out about that meeting…

“Your little spy follower me for months.” She raised her brown in disbelief, crossing her arms “And now you want me to leave?”

“When did you find out?”

“I’ve felt it the second the bond snapped at Dawn Court. All I could feel was you. I waited for you to come to me, but instead… you left.” Eris felt his heart ache as her disappointment waved through their bond. “So I just assumed the amazing Autumn heir thought he was too good to be with a normal person, who doesn’t have royal blood in her veins.”

Eris frowned, confused. How could she have understood everything so wrong? Even without talking to her, he always felt her, checked how she felt by the small waves by the mate bond. During those months, Eris learned to love every piece he discovered through the brief words of the spy. And yet, he had managed to ruin everything.

“And then, your spy started to following me non stop. At first, I kept playing, pretending I didn’t realized, just to see how far he… you would go. You despise me, that’s clear, but still want to know my every step.” She continued “Care to explain? Or you are too scared your family will find out you’re mated to a nobody?”

“You don’t understand!” He shouted “From the moment I’ve put my eyes on you, all I could care was to keep you safe, far from my messed up life. You don’t know what my family… my own father is capable of. That’s why I didn’t approached you, and that’s precisely why I didn’t plan to do it anytime soon, even when my heart and soul begged me to do it. Neglect the bond was the worst type of torture I’ve ever felt.”

He took a hesitant step towards her, losing all the confidence he always had. She stared at him gaping, surprised by the statement. She really expected his contempt and not to find out that he wanted her more than anything in the world.

“And mostly, if I would be willing to risk everything just to be with you… this would be the last place I would want you to be.” Eris finally broke the distance between then, being only a few centimeters away. He looked at her, keeping every single detail of her face in his memory while feeling her warm breath against his own skin.

“Eris…”

“I truly apologize for making you feel that way.” He whispered, closing his eyes “Don’t think for a second that I think you’re not enough for me. Since I saw you for the first time, you became my entire universe.”

She stared at him, completely astonished. For so long, she have thought to be condemned to a mate that saw her as someone inferior, and suddenly, Eris couldn’t be more different.

Fearful, she raised her hands and gently touched his face. He kept his eyes closed, even shivering under her touch. Eris’s skin was warm and soft, and tiny freckles formed a whole constellation across his cheeks. Slowly, she dragged one of her fingers to his lips, caressing them lightly, before finally closing the distance between them and pressing her mouth to his.

Eris felt his flames stir within him, wasting no time to kiss her back with intensity. He gripped her waist as she wrapped her arms around him, pressing her body against the closest wall.

His mouth moved against hers like he was starved for her, hands pulling her impossibly closer. She felt her own body answering, the bond thrumming so loudly it drowned out every rational thought.

But then —

“Wait,” she breathed, breaking the kiss and pressing her hands against his chest to stop him. Her heart thundered, her lips still tingling.

Confusion flickered across Eris’s face.

“I can’t,” she whispered. “Not like this. I need… I need time. I need to know this isn’t just the bond making us reckless. I barely know you.”

Eris exhaled sharply, jaw tightening. For a heartbeat, it seemed like flames danced in his eyes. Then he stepped back, putting a careful distance between them, even when the bond screamed to never let her go.

“I’m sorry for trespassing the limits.” Eris said “You’re entirely right. We shouldn’t have done… this. ”

It was weird to see Eris lose his words like that, when he seemed to always have everything under control.

Eris tormented himself. He lost all sense of control the moment he touched her, putting her at risk, exposing her to be found by any member of his family. He couldn’t allow himself to go too far. Not there mostly, with Beron and his brothers only some miles away.

Before thinking twice, Eris subtly approached her again and held her hand gently, winnowing them to somewhere Beron wouldn’t find her. A hidden cabin in the forest.

In his father’s disdain, Eris had found unexpected benefits, knowing Beron would never deign to step beyond his lavish palace to concern himself with a miserable cabin hidden in some forgotten corner of his lands.

That house had become his refuge, the only place in Autumn Court where he could find a little peace of mind. Still, knowing his mate was so close to Beron, basically hiding right under his nose, made Eris’s instincts scream to run away with her, far from Beron’s dirty claws.

A little scream left her mouth as they suddenly appear inside the forest cabin. Eris held her waist steady just to be certain she wouldn’t stumble. She looked around confused, trying to understand where they were.

“We still in Autumn Court, if that’s your concern.” Eris said.

“A little warning that you were about to turn the world upside down to get here and drag me along would’ve been nice!” She looked at him angrily.

“You have never winnowed before.” He stated, understanding why she gave gotten so mad “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want to hear more apologies tonight, Eris.” She stepped back and let go of his hand “And yes, I’ve not and don’t plan to do it again any time soon.”

Eris held his laugh as a weird feeling emerged in his heart. It was strange to finally be with his mate, to talk to her and get to know every detail by himself and not by a cold letter.

Cauldron, all he wanted was her. And now that he had finally tasted her, Eris just wanted to devour her. To worship her entirely.

“You get used to it with time and can even enjoy the feeling, but I’ll let you know in advance if we must do it again.” Eris said “Welcome to my house, by the way.”

She finally looked around, still recovering from the winnowing experience. The forest cabin was a stark contrast to Beron’s palace. Free of extravagance, yet still luxurious in its own way. It was cozy, with an unmistakable touch of Eris.

“I thought you lived in the palace.”

“Officially, I live at the palace.” He pauses while his eyes drift to the fireplace “But this cabin… it’s the only place that feels like mine. No watchful eyes. Just quiet. No one knows it exists.”

“Then why bring me here?” She asked, narrowing her eyes. It was hard to understand the male in front of her.

“Because you’re my mate. And no matter how much it terrifies me, my heart is yours from the moment I saw you for the first time” He said almost desperately “I thought keeping distance would keep you safe, but I was wrong.”

A bitter laugh escaped her lips.

“That’s the reason why you planted a spy in my shadows?” She asked with her voice trembling.

“You don’t understand, do you? My father has tortured me. For the Cauldron’s sake, he has once killed my brother’s lover right in front of him because he didn’t consider her worthy of the Vanserra bloodline.” Eris voice cracked into a shout “If Beron ever finds out about you, he wouldn’t hesitate to use you against me. To hurt you, to break you, just to bend me to his will.”

Her expression crumpled. She could feel his desperation bleeding through the bond, like a deep wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding.

“The choice is mine to make – to stay by your side or walk away. It’s my decision if the bond… if you are worth the danger.” She said firmly “And just to be clear, I’ve never lived my life in fear. I’ve always been free. No court, no chains, no one to hold me back. And I won’t start now because of some ancient, cruel male. Maybe you shouldn’t either.”

It was one of the rare moments that Eris had no words waiting on his lips.

She paused, biting her lip as if the weight of her next words pressed heavily on her.

“I know your father has caused damage that can’t be undone, and I hate to know that he hurt you so deeply.”

Eris let out a slow breath, understanding there was nothing he could do to push her away. And by the Cauldron, it was the last thing he wanted.

So he nodded, defeated and yet tasting something dangerously close to hope. Eris Vanserra had never dared to feel such a thing – not when it could be so easily destroyed.

He was a fool and he knew it. But he was also utterly tired of being haunted by fear.

“You’re right.” He rasped “It is your decision.”

Eris amber eyes flared with a fierce flame.

“Give me the chance to be the mate you deserve, more than being my father’s son, more than danger. And I swear to you I will do everything in my power to make sure fear never holds you captive.”

She gave a small, genuine smile before meeting his amber eyes.

“I’m not promising anything yet, Eris. But I’m here. Let’s see where this bond can take us… together.”

tags: @lalaluch @seasttarr

[thatbloodymuggle]

MASTERMIND - MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: A child of light and dark, you are the Night Court’s best kept secret. After decades spent in hiding, you yearn to stretch your wings. But you quickly learn that freedom comes with a price, as you find yourself trying to outfox the fox himself in his own den.

PAIRING: Eris Vanserra x Reader

CHAPTERS: smut indicated by ***

prologue 

one - the equinox

two - falling water***

three - color theory***

four - moon and stars***

five - checkmate***

six - from ashes

seven - the manuscript

eight - the great war

nine - coming soon

[kathren1sky-blog]

Oh lord... this prince will be my death...

Why he loves to be so mysterious???

In a Panic (pt. 2)

Pairing: Eris x f!reader

Summary: When Beron kills Jesminda, Eris worries about he might come after you too, so he sends you away to protect you.

Warnings: none

Word count: 468

A/N: uhm... hello. Idk what I'm doing. Bit of a writer block (yes, again... sigh) and last time writing drabbles helped, so I was rereading them hoping it'd help and then I remembered I was considering writing more for this one so here it is! I wrote it in like half an hour with no plans on what will happen next so yeah, idk what I'm doing :)) but hey at least I wrote something!

Part 1 | Main Masterlist | Eris Masterlist

The days at the cottage passed too slowly. Alone and bored, it felt as if time didn't pass at all. It had stopped the moment you left the Forest House and followed the guard to the outskirts of the Autumn Court.

It was the strangest place you'd ever seen—not that you had seen much of the world, actually. Born in the woods surrounding the High Lord's residence, you'd never had much reason to explore beyond that.

Maybe that was why you spent your days lying on the grass just outside the cottage, admiring the marvel before you.

The small cabin sat on the border with both the Summer and the Winter Court.

Behind you and to your left, it was Autumn—the same colors and scents you'd known your whole life. But to your right, you could admire the vivid greens of Summer and flowers you'd never seen before, blooming with life and unfamiliar fragrances. And if you looked straight ahead, all you could see were the white hues of Winter, with its snow-covered rocks and leafless trees.

If you moved a little to the side, the hot summer air kissed your skin. Just one step forward, and the cold winds of winter blew the hair from your face. But if you stayed right where you were, the warm autumn breeze you were used to offered the perfect balance between the two extremes.

Yet after a week, even the peculiar landscape wasn't enough to distract your restless mind.

You missed Eris. You hadn't heard from him since he sent you away, and worry was eating at you. Had his father found out about you? Was that why he hadn't sent even a short message? What if he was hurt, and you didn't know?

The same questions flooded your mind again and again, day after day.

Then one evening, while you were watching the sunset and making flowers grow with a flick of your wrist, you felt a shift in the air.

You turned just in time to see a shimmer appear. And then he was there.

You were on your feet in an instant, almost stumbling in your rush to reach him. Eris caught you, a low chuckle escaping his lips just as a broken sob left yours.

“Careful, sweetheart,” he murmured. His arms slid around you, pulling you close. “You don't want to get hurt, do you?”

You buried your face in his hair. “I've missed you,” you breathed. “And I was so worried.” You pulled back to get a good look at him, but he didn't appear injured. “Are you alright?”

Eris nodded, the corner of his lips twitching upward. “I'm fine. And I've missed you too.”

Then his expression turned serious, and a sense of unease crept over you.

“But we need to talk.”

Taglist: @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @lilah-asteria @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @ivy-34 @yesiamthatwierd @lreadsstuff @littlest-w01f

Eris tags: @kathren1sky-blog

[prythianpages]

sneak peak to the next update for The Mark You Left Behind. We're going back in time again to the reunion right after UTM:

Paws scuffed the ground and whimpers became joyous, excited barks. Then they were there, surging toward him, a blur of dark fur and familiar warmth. His precious hounds. He dropped to his knees in the hay, arms flung wide. 

“Cauldron,” he rasped, burying his face in their fur as they smothered him with love and licks. His hands moved instinctively, sweeping across each of them in turn, his breath catching in his throat. He felt his eyes burn with emotion. 

“I’m sorry.”

He hadn’t meant to leave them but he hadn’t had a choice. Everything had happened so quickly, so violently. Still, he murmured apologies as he held them close, guilt coiling in his chest. He’d never been gone this long and he hadn’t known if he’d ever make it back to them. 

But now he was here.

And as relief started to unfurl within him, his thoughts wandered to someone else he had ached for. Someone he thought of every night, longed for–

His ears picked up on a sound and his hands slowed. 

He lifted his gaze and there you were, standing just beyond the circle of wagging tails and frantic joy.

The one he had been thinking about. His goal had been to check up on the hounds first and then find a way to see you…but now he didn’t have to.

Eris’s eyes burned bright and glassy as he took you in and when they met yours, it nearly unraveled something deep in his chest.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

Then one of the hounds leapt up again, yipping happily as it knocked into him.

“They missed you,” you said softly. “They’ve been restless these years.”

Eris stilled, his hand curling into one of their scruffs as he looked up at you. His chest tightened as he saw what you held. A brush. You noticed his gaze, the hand holding the hounds’s brush dropping back to your side in a timid manner. “I overheard the groundskeepers talking one day and… I hope you don’t mind, but I brought some of your things.”

At your words, his gaze swept the stable. He noticed some of his worn sleep shirts tucked into the beds and a bottle of his favorite cologne resting on the windowsill.  “I thought your scent might soothe them,” you explained. “And it did. Their spirits brightened. They stopped crying at night.”

His heart sank at that. At the thought of his hounds crying for him, not understanding why he’d left. They must’ve thought he’d abandoned them and that was far from the truth. 

One of the hounds, the youngest, trotted over to you. Gravy. You pet his head softly, a small shy smile on your face. “This little one took to me right away so I kept visiting. I made sure they got their special weekly treats. Every time the stable doors creaked open, their heads would turn. They never stopped looking past me. Always waiting, always hopeful you’d be there behind me.”

Eris took a moment to process your words. Flames licked at the inside of his ribcage, spreading hot through his veins. All these years, he had wondered. Wondered if you still thought of him the way he thought of you, if you missed him. 

And now, knowing you had taken care of his hounds, held onto pieces of him while he was gone… it struck something in him. Something he didn’t dare name yet.

“And you?” he asked quietly, his voice rough. “Did you… miss me too?”

[a-court-of-fics-and-errors]

Afternoon Appointments

Warnings: SMUT. THIS IS BASICALLY JUST SMUT AND ONLY SMUT AND I WON'T BE TAKING QUESTIONS. MINORS DNI.

There is some fluff. Mated Eris and Reader. Unprotected sex (male and female receiving). Voyeurism. *Breeding?* they're trying to make an heir for the court so it's spice with the intent of getting pregnant. Also mentions of infertility and struggles to get pregnant. Oral, vaginal, fingering, take your pick.

Word Count: 6,201 - my bad.

Honestly, I just wanted to write something a little spicy since I've been drowning in the slow burns, but now I'm considering making this a shorter story as a slow burn palette cleanser, but it depends on how you all like it!

Summary: Eris, your mate, catches you between both of your court duties and is keen on ensuring that no time is wasted between the two of you. After being mated over a decade, you've been trying to conceive an heir, unsuccessfully and are hoping this delightful afternoon reprieve might finally be the ticket.

SMUT BELOW THIS LINE. BE AWARE.

Initially, you didn’t notice him as you walked at a brisk pace through the open-air walkways of the grand Autumn Court Manor. Your thoughts were consumed by the myriad of responsibilities you had planned for the rest of the day—consultations with court advisors to deliberate over a diplomatic journey to the Summer Court, sifting through an overwhelming stack of letters from neighboring villagers requesting a ceremonial visit from you and your mate for the anticipated harvest, and enduring the relentless pleas from courtiers eager to propose another extravagant party that you had little desire to attend.

Your mind was a whirlwind of tasks, repeating them quietly to yourself as to not forget to add them to the ever-growing to-do list in your office that you were oblivious to the familiar intoxicating aroma of woodsmoke and cinnamon that heralded the approach of your mate. Eris.

He was drawing near from the opposite end of the hall, yet your eyes were nearly glued to the ground as you continued to mull over how you were going to respond to the multitude of letters.

You collided with a solid wall of muscle, a soft “oomph” escaping your lips as you stumbled back, your cheeks flushing. “Oh my, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even—”

You looked up, finally realizing who you had so unexpectedly bumped into. Eris was towering over you, gazing down with a teasing smile emerging from him. His lips curled slightly, just enough to reveal a hint of his teeth, while his amber eyes shimmered, capturing the sunlight and making them look like threads of gold spun through them.

You let out a playful scoff, stepping back with a lazy grace.

“No, no,” Eris teased, his voice dripping with charm. “Please, do continue with your heartfelt apology for so boldly running into me.”

You rolled your eyes, a small snort escaping you as you shook you head and then lifted your head back to look at him again. “Oh, believe me, I am soooo deeply sorry for my transgression, my lord,” you drawled, your voice riddled with mock sincerity.

Eris released a rich, velvety laugh that resonated from deep within his chest. “Naturally, my lady,” he replied.

Your eyes fell to the floor as you brushed back the stray strands of hair that cascaded into your face. Eris seemed to sense the immediate shift in your mood. “But honestly, is everything alright, my love? You seem… preoccupied.”

You glanced back up at him, a soft, airy laugh slipping from your lips. “I’m fine,” you murmured with a gentle shrug. “Just jugging a lot of priorities today.”

A mischievous glint lit up Eris’s eyes as he closed the distance between you, maneuvering to press your back against the wall, his hands resting on either side of your face, enclosing you within his presence. “Do you know what’s been preoccupying my thoughts today?”

You tilted your head slightly, peering up through your lashes. “I doubt it’s anything virtuous,” you teased.

Eris’ voice was a sultry purr as he leaned closer, his scent enveloping you in an almost intoxicating haze. “Certainly not,” he whispered, his breath caressing your skin.

His fingers traced a languid path down your face, gliding over your jawline and neck as you melted into his touch. “I’ve been consumed—tormented, really,” he murmured, tucking your hair behind your ear with delicate finger, “by this almost insatiable desire to be utterly and entirely devoured by my mate.”

Your heart fluttered wildly, your breath catching as he leaned down to graze his teeth lightly over your exposed ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“Is that so?” You teased, leaning into his soft kiss as he dragged his lips down the side of your ear, nipping at the soft flesh.

Eris responded quietly with a small groan of agreement.

You gently nudged against his chest, wriggling out of his firm hold with a teasing grin. “As much as I regret leaving you in despair, I’ve got a busy agenda today” you remarked, your eyes twinkling as he reached out, grabbing you hand again,” you noted, smiling at him as he reached out and grabbed your hand.

Eris swiftly drew you back against him, his strong arms enveloping your shoulders. “And nowhere on that oh-so-important schedule is a moment to indulge your devilishly charming, handsome mare?” he teased.

You tilted your head up, resting your chin on his solid, sculpted chest, offering him a coy smile. “Sadly, my assistant didn’t book any time for you today,” you replied.

Eris rolled his eyes dramatically, letting out a soft, exaggerated sigh. “I’ll have to have words with that meddling female who seems determined to keep my beautifully enchanting mate just out of my grasp.”

He looked down at you, his smile radiating a warmth that sent a flutter through your stomach. Bending down, he brushed his lips against your tenderly before deepening the kiss with a more fervent intensity. His hands cradled your face, fingers threading through your hair and holding you still in a kiss that was all-consuming.

You didn’t even think about it, moaning softly into his mouth as he enveloped you in another long, shivering kiss. The corridor's dim light cast shadows across the stone walls, cold and unyielding against your back. His kiss caught you so off guard that he had you once again pinned against the rough, cool surface, his hands leaving your face to rest at your hips. His thumbs pressed and kneaded into the soft, sensitive skin, sending tiny shivers down your spine.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers weaving their way into the thick, auburn strands of his hair. Your nails lightly grazed over his scalp, eliciting a deep, resonant groan that vibrated into your open, waiting mouth.

A smile broke through the kiss as he leaned back, his eyes glinting with mischief as he raised a brow. “You’re going to really get me riled up and not let me have a few minutes of your time?” he asked teasingly, his voice a playful murmur.

You didn’t respond with words, just inhaled deeply, feeling the warmth of his breath mingling with yours, and pulled him back by tugging gently on his hair, drawing him into another deep, consuming kiss. Eris slid his hands beneath your thighs, effortlessly lifting you higher against the wall, as if he needed to be even closer. But as he did so, and you felt the fabric of your dress slowly inching upward, exposing your skin to the cool air, the awareness of your very public setting.

You pressed a hand firmly against Eris' chest while he moved in to plant heavy, lingering kisses along the sensitive skin of your neck, attempting to gently push him back. "Eris—" you murmured softly, your voice barely a whisper as his hands confidently squeezed and tugged at your thighs, his body rhythmically grinding against yours. When he didn't respond, you repeated yourself, trying to infuse a different tone into your breathless whisper. "Eris—"

He leaned back slightly, his gaze locking onto yours with an intense, smoldering heat in his eyes. "What?" he asked, his breath coming in soft pants. "What is it?"

You glanced anxiously in both directions down the corridor, relieved to find it still deserted and echoing with silence. "Eris, as much as I would love for you to take me right here," you said, your voice a mixture of longing and practicality, "it is the middle of the day, in a very regularly used walkway."

Eris groaned, tilting his head back to reveal the taut, sinewy muscles of his neck, which beckoned you to sink your teeth into. He returned his gaze to you, the corner of his mouth curling into a sly smile. "But doesn't it just amplify the promise that the High Lord of the Autumn Court and his mate are so determined to provide their court with the next heir that they're willing to seize the opportunity at a moment's notice?" he asked, raising a teasing brow.

He wasn’t entirely wrong. For nearly a decade, you and Eris had been trying to produce an heir since your mating ceremony, yet success had eluded you, and the urgency to secure the future of the court with him weighed heavily on your shoulders.

You gave him a rather incredulous look. “My love, even though you have a storied past filled with daring exploits and more brazen partnerships, some of us still have a bit more of an upstanding reputation to uphold,” you replied, your voice tinged with playful reproach.

Eris let you drop down slowly, your feet gently returning to the polished marble floor as he gave you another long, lustful stare. His eyes were like burning embers, filled with a fiery intensity that seemed to melt away any resistance you had left. “I would say that it’s more than proper to truly show just how dedicated we are.” Eris winked, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and then began pulling you down the grand corridor.

You let out a mildly exasperated sigh, the sound echoing softly off the stone walls as he tugged you along. Yet, you followed willingly, unable to ignore the intense need that now roared through your body, urging you forward with a fiery insistence.

Eris led you back into the manor, saying nothing as he walked ahead, his hand firmly clasped in yours. His pace was fast enough, desperate enough, that you had to break into a slight, stumbling jog to keep up with him. Your laughter bubbled up, a soft, breathless giggle escaping your lips as you passed one of his advisors. The advisor attempted to stop and ask him something, but Eris, with a firm yet playful authority, simply said, “It can wait,” before continuing his determined path.

Finally, after ascending a winding set of stairs, Eris pushed open the grand, ornate doors leading to your shared chambers and practically propelled you through the threshold. You burst into laughter, stumbling over the intricate folds of your dress, your hand instinctively reaching out to steady yourself against one of the elaborately carved bedposts, while the other clutched your stomach as you gasped for air amidst your laughter.

Eris followed you through the doorway with a graceful, long stride, pulling the doors closed with a decisive thud and standing before them like a sentinel, his eyes gleaming with amusement as his own laughter slipped from his lips.

He crossed the room in a swift motion, his hands finding their place at your waist, effortlessly lifting you so you could wrap your legs around his torso. Even through the voluminous layers of your skirts, you could feel the undeniable presence of Eris’s hardened desire straining against the confines of his trousers. With a swift motion, you managed to kick off your shoes, sending them clattering across the polished floor as Eris pressed fervent, breathy kisses onto your lips. His hands supported you beneath your rear, fingers digging into the soft flesh with a passionate urgency.

Your fingers returned to entwine themselves in the silky strands of Eris’s hair, each tug eliciting a moan from him as he guided you towards the bed. The mattress welcome your entwined bodies, your legs still secured behind his hips as he positioned himself above you. His fingers worked deftly to loosen your corsets more intricate lacing. You, on the other hand were more successful endeavor to rid him of his trousers, revealing his toned, muscular thighs. Eager to free him from the last barrier, you tugged, begging at him to step back and let himself free.

He obliged, standing back from between your legs, taking his boots and pants off in one swift motion. His erection sprang free, hard, and throbbing in anticipation. It glistened at the tip with a bead of translucent fluid that seemed to invite you to taste it. He was every bit as breathtakingly aroused as you were and the sight of him only intensified your own desire.

As Eris neared the side of the bed again, lustful hunger filled his eyes. Pressing a hand into his stomach, you stopped him momentarily before rising up on your knees and lowering your lips towards his cock. His head fell back as you wrapped around him, gripping firmly while your lips pressed against the tip of his erection. You gave a few soft draws before opening your lips slowly and enveloping just the head of him. Eris let out a few soft moans, wrapping your hair around his fist as if to steady himself while his other hand cupped the underside of your chin, fingers digging into your soft skin as you slowly took more and more of him.

You didn’t often pleasure him in this way. Eris, however, took great pleasure in spending copious amount of time discovering the sweet secrets between your thighs. But today, seeing him so hungry for your touch—it ignited a fire in your that you couldn’t quite control.

As you welcomed him back wholly, you playfully nipped at the tender skin with your teeth, drawing back leisurely while Eris’s grip intensified while another moan slipped from his lips. His gaze found yours as you peered up at him through a sultry veil of lashes, causing his mouth to slacken open, a throaty sigh stammering out. As you carefully tightened your lips around the apex of his arousal, you sucked fervently before letting it escape your mouth with an audible pop.

Eris stuttered out a half formed, “fuc—” his breath hitching in surprise and pleasure.

You licked your lips while casting a glance up at him. Your hands were lost in their own exploration from his chiseled torso down his thighs, sharp nails carving a trail of scarlet lines on his skin as if branding him for your exclusive possession.

“You’re…divine, my love,” Eris groaned when your mouth once again claimed him.

The hum of affirmation that vibrated from deep within your throat sent waves of sensation rippling through him. The intimate sound echoed against his hardness, somehow making him harder as the pace of your movements quickened and the grip of your lips tightened around him.

As you teased him, driving him incrementally closer to release, Eris’ firm grip in your hair seemed more like a barrier. He held you back, preventing you from losing yourself completely in the rhythm. He restrained so that you could only take about half of him in your mouth at a time. You raised your eyes to meet his, his face twisted in delicious torment as you eased off, letting your tongue swirl about his swollen tip. His response was immediate, ragged moans escaping from between clenched teeth.

“What’s the matter, my love?” Your voice was thick with lust, mere inches from his cock as your saliva slicked down your chin. “You don’t want me to suck you off?”

Eris looked down at you from his towering height, chest heaving with anticipation. “Trust me on this, my love,” he rasped out, “my dick hitting the back of your throat nearly sends me to the edge every time. But I’d much rather save it all for more…fruitful purposes.” His words were heavy with lust, his gaze turning feral.

Smiling seductively, you let your lips slide sensuously over his hard cock once again before pulling back slowly. The taste of him lingered on your lips as he withdrew. “And where might that be?” You asked coyly.

Wordlessly, Eris collapsed to his knees before you and claimed your mouth in a searing kiss, tasting himself on your tongue while attempting to unfasten the stays of your corset once more.

He paused for a moment, seemingly needing to concentrate on the task of his fingers before he finally answered. “Well, considering we’re trying for a babe, it feels sinful to not try and seize every chance I can to fill you up.” His gaze flickered up to meet yours, as if silently asking for your approval.

Gifting him with a sultry grin as the corset finally relented, Eris pushed it back off your shoulders and swiftly reached beneath the layers of your skirts. His fingers found your undergarments, tugging the fabric down your legs almost manically. Once they were discarded, he wasted no time in stripping off your gown until you were stripped as bare to him as he was to you. You reclined onto the bed, your knees raised to hide the dripping lust of your core from him, and propped up on your elbows, inviting his gaze.

He drank in the sight of you, naked and nearly begging for him, his own arousal throbbing expectantly in his hand. He gave himself a few rough strokes as his gaze roamed over every inch of you—memorizing each curve, each hollow, imprinting every detail into his mind.

You allowed your knees to gently part, revealing your wet, glistening valley to his ravenous gaze. The sight seemed to push him to the brink of his sanity as he sank back down, his palms tracing a fiery path down your trembling thighs. He gave his lips a quick swipe with his tongue, priming himself for the feast laid before him. As he pressed his mouth down onto your core, he drew out his tongue, dragging it up the full length, groaning at the intoxicating taste. Your head burrowed into the mattress, your spine curving seductively as Eris’s hands made their way to your lower back. His fingers hooked under the crest of you, thumbs kneading into your thighs, rhythmically clenching and releasing as he mapped your body.

His tongue flickered over the sensitive but at your apex, teasingly building you up before dragging it languidly in slow, agonizing laps. Over a decade’s worth of attentive learning—under your patient instruction—had made him an expert navigator of your body. He dipped lower, his tongue teasing at your entrance before spreading you open further with his fingers. His tongue drove deeper within you while his thumb caressed your clit, causing eruptions of pleasure that obscured your vision. Your urgent needs colliding and locking him into place with your tights as staccato breaths escaped from between your clenched teeth. The tightening grip of your legs around him only amplified his ravenous desire. Pushing them away gently to take longer laps with his practiced tongue, he withdrew his finger from its tantalizing dance at the top of your cunt to slowly penetrate you. Two fingers stretched and filled you, breaking what felt like new ground each time. Eris loved nothing more than watching your face in these moments—witnessing the furrowing brow and slack jawed ecstasy as he coaxed you open. “That’s it, my love,” he purred. “Let me open up that tight, sweet pussy.”

His fingers moved faster, eliciting a symphony of moans from deep in your throat as you hovered on the precipice of pleasure. Eris was acutely aware of your body's responses, his thumb strumming your clit in an intimate dance that mirrored the rhythm of his fingers sliding in and out of you. Your hands clenched white-knuckled into the sheets above your head, stark contrast to Eris' hands, which never wavered from exploring your body.

His gaze traced a path from the tips of your fingers down to your toes, which were clawing at the sheets with equal intensity. "Eris, please—" you gasped out in a raw whisper, the words half plea, half demand as you felt him deliberately holding back the climax you craved.

A knowing grin pulled at his lips even though you couldn't see it. “Hold on, my love,” he whispered back, his voice a silky promise in your ear. “Just a bit longer.”

Frustration and need had you biting your lip as you rolled your hips against his hand, trying to coax him into moving faster. But Eris had other plans; he withdrew his fingers completely leaving you achingly empty.

A mournful whimper slipped past your lips as the bed creaked beneath his weight as he stood up. His strong hands gripped your hips and yanked you down closer to the edge, causing an unexpected squeal to rip from your lips which made Eris chuckle deeply as he positioned you just right on the threshold. Curiously, you opened your eyes to find him stroking himself while eyeing the spot he so desperately wanted to be.

Eris had once confessed he could spend hours staring at your pussy with a fascination that bordered on obsession. His fingertips would skim lightly over every intimate crease and fold, committing every inch to memory. Hell, just watching him studying you like that could send waves of pleasure through his body strong enough to push him over the edge.

Now, as he stood at the foot of the bed, ready to claim you once more, you couldn’t help but remember his words. And you knew, without a doubt, that it wouldn’t be a lie to say he hadn’t brought himself to completion just by laying you bare on the bed and gazing longingly down at your spread legs.

You whined again, your body heavy with uncontrollable desire. Eris, tuning into your small groans of longing, cast his glance toward you while still working himself over, his lust-filled gaze meeting yours. “Is this what you want, my love?” he husked out.

Your eyelids felt dense, brimming with an animalistic yearning as you gasped out, “Yes—please gods yes.”

Eris threw you a wicked grin before aligning himself at your throbbing core, easing in at a torturous pace that almost tore a wild scream from your throat. His breath hitched as he delved deeper into you, like he was teetering on the edge of release right there and then. But finally, he was fully sheathed within you, casting a look of pure satisfaction down at you. He stayed rooted deep within as he rocked in and out at a slow rhythm making you writhe beneath him, pleading for him to quicken his pace. “Patience, my love,” he murmured heatedly, pressing his robust hand onto your stomach, anchoring you back onto the bed. “I want to savor this moment, and if I pound into you right now it’ll end way too fucking quick for either of us.”

Your whimper of disappointment morphed into a moan as Eris thrust all the way up to the hilt once more. Every single inch of him was pure ecstasy that filled you more than anything you possible. The first time he'd taken you to heights of pleasure unknown, there was fear realize he might split you in two but with slow seduction and a few heated moments spent priming you with his skilled fingers and sinfully wicked tongue, you knew he was meant for you. He was the only one who fit within like no other could — two pieces of an intricate erotic puzzle.

Eris leaned in, his muscular body arching over yours, his arms bracketing your face as he pressed his heated forehead against yours. He moved deliberately within you, his thrusts slow and purposeful, with each withdrawal almost total before he sank back into you, causing delicious toe curling friction.

Your hands found their way to the back of his head—your fingers threading through his wild hair and pulling him even closer. The growl that vibrated from his chest was raw and animalistic as he kissed you, turning everything slow, making it somehow more erotic than lustful.

You wrapped your legs around his chiseled hips, matching his rhythm. The moment your ankles locked securely behind him, Eris slipped his arms beneath your back and shoulders, pulling you up while he remained buried inside you. A surprised squeak escaped from you, followed by giggles as he rose to his full height—his strong, calloused hands holding you fast against him while he captured your lips in a deep kiss that tasted like sin.

He turned, the muscled strength of his back sinking into the soft surrender of the bed. Your thighs remained possessively wound around him as he shuffled upwards, resting his back against the headboard. You pushed your knees outward to straddle him like a carnal queen claiming her throne, his large hands finding home on the curve of your hips. His fingers burrowed into the soft flesh as he silently urged you to gyrate atop him. His golden eyes locked into yours, his voice dropping into a sultry rumble as he ordered, “Ride me.” A command that you were more than delighted to fulfill.

Sitting back on your heels, your hands wandered upwards to find solace in the tangles of your own hair. You shifted back up and down upon hum. Eris’s hands held court on your swaying hips, not gripping you tightly but savoring the pleasure that each motion evoked as your body slipped tantalizingly through his strong fingers.

Eris seemed to surrender to the pleasure, allowing his head to tilt back in ecstasy. His Adam’s apple bobbed visibly as he gulps of air escaped past his lips. Your hands ventured southwards, exploring the terrain of his chest and abdomen with slow, deliberate strokes. All the while, you watched him—as pleasure etched itself across his face. His mouth fell open slightly open, sporadic gasps and guttural moans filling the silence as you controlled the rhythm.

His hips picked up a primal rhythm beneath him, as if he wasn’t fully aware of what he was doing. The tempo increased steadily as his fingers, imbued with desire, dug deeper into the skin of your hips. His body crashed into yours with a mix of hunger and desperation. His eyes were clenched shut, locking away the paradise he found within. He bit his lower lip hard enough to bring what you thought would be a sting of pain, but it was drowned out by the guttural sounds of pleasure that erupted from deep in his chest.

You leaned forward in response to his urgency, grazing your teeth gentle across the landscape of his neck—a different touch that the harshness of the grip he held you with. In a heartbeat he had taken back control, a male seemingly claiming his territory, pinning you in place as he made love to you.

The delicious friction between your body and Eris’s torso was bringing you dangerously close to the precipice. You could feel the distinct tightening of your muscles, a teasing thrill that started from the nape of your neck, creeping slowly forward, followed by a curious numbing in your toes. Your head sank forward, nestling into Eris’s broad shoulder as your nails clawed hungrily into the flesh of his opposite shoulder. “You’re such a good girl,” he growled in your ear, indulging every contraction in your body. His voice echoed twice as a whispered mantra, “Good girl.” His breath fanned over your ear as he coaxed you further. “Let it go, let my drown in it, my love,” pressing a fervent kiss into your tousled hair.

His words were the potent magic it took to send you spiraling over the treacherous abyss of pleasure, chasing that electrifying wave that coursed through your veins, leaving an unrestrained moan escaping past your parted lips. “I love you,” Eris whispered into your ear, his unrelenting pace continuing as he guided you through the tremors of release until you finally descended into a panting mess.

With desire still twinkling in your eyes, you nibbled at his shoulder, lavishly bestowing him with a sequence of licks and kisses, tasting his salt ridden skin and breathing in the scent of your mate. Eris absorbed every aftershock rippling through you while he kept his pace going, seemingly driven forth by the urgency he managed to elicit.

Another gravelly growl erupted from him before he spun you onto your back once more—this time fueled by something more primal instead of the gentle intimacy before. Lost in the delirium of pleasure, Eris plowed into you with a wildness that would drive you crazy. His body melded with yours—his hips driving recklessly as he cupped your head in his arms protectively. Your teeth grazed along the sinewy column of his neck as he released a low purr.

This time, Eris was teetering on the edge of his own climax as his hips faltered for a moment, catching their rhythm again with an insatiable speed. A sinful symphony of your bodies colliding with one another filled the room. Your legs once against entwined around his torso like a vine, clinging to him like a lifeline.

You leaned closer, whispering your own sweet demands into the curve of his ear, tickling it with your tongue and teasing bite. “Give me a babe, Eris.” The words were like liquid fire to him. His hand traced down your face, as if searching for the tender female beneath the wild one in his arms. His fingers cradled your cheek, the softness of his touch only amplifying the raw passion happening just inches away. “Let me carry our legacy. The heir to the court. The next generation of our love’s lineage.” As if possessed by another rush, his hands relocated from cupping your face to gripping the sheets with white-knuckled intensity as he panted out his lustful need.

“Please, Eris—” you pleaded through gasps and moans. Begging was music to his ears; he found it so damn sexy when you were on your knees pleading for him. “Give me what I want the most.”

Eris lifted his head, seeking out your eyes, to make connection before the inevitable release. When he locked onto your gaze, a shiver ran through him, causing his hips to shudder slightly as his eyes rolled back basking in the uninhibited pleasure. You felt him spill inside you—as if molten heat fused with the lingering aftershocks of your own climax.

When he had finally felt that delightful release, the waves of tingly, bone-jittering happiness faded and he rested his body on top of you. His lungs still catching their breath as he nestled his face into the crook of your neck. He gently brushed his thumb across your cheek, turning your face towards him for a sweet, lingering kiss before slowly pulling out and away, leaving an emptiness in his wake. But when he did, his eyes sparkled with such a genuinely, overwhelming affection, it caught you entirely off guard.

He grinned like he was tipsy. “I love you,” he whispered once more.

You giggled in return, your hand tracing the contours of his angular face and jaw, “I love you, Eris.”

He rolled to one side, his hand lazily wandering down your torso, drawing small, whimsical on your abdomen, where you had prayed to someday grow a tiny life inside.

“I have a good feeling about that one,” he chimed in.

You quirked a brow. “You think this is suddenly the magic one?”

He gave a light shrug, “It definitely felt like it could have been.”

“You always say that,” you teased, snuggling yourself in closer as his fingers danced up your arm, pressing another kiss to the crown of your head.

You laid in silence together for a few minutes, listening to Eris’ heartbeat slow down to the steady thumping you so often fell asleep to, his hands still exploring your body. He always had his hands on you somewhere if he could, like he needed something other than the mental tether that bound him to you, but you didn’t mind it.

You had many dreams about carrying Eris’s child. As his mate, it was one of your expected duties, to produce an heir to carry on the Vanserra lineage, to secure the next High Lordship, or Ladyship, times were changing and you would often tease Eris’ brothers with the idea of his daughter ascending into the position, sending them scoffing and rolling their eyes. But after ten years of unsuccessful attempts, fertility potions, aphrodisiacs, fool-proof positions, and you had no physical, tangible result.

You could picture it when you closed your eyes like looking into a mirror. Eris, standing in the windows of your chambers, surrounded by soft light as he looks down at a small bundle that coos in his arms. He sways lightly back and forth, the gentle breeze from outside pushing his hair from his face as he looks down at his babe with more adoration that any male could have for their child. He looks so at peace. He looks so beautiful. The babe in his arms could never be more deeply loved than by this male, your mate, and you’d given him that happiness.

You were yanked from your daydreaming by a light rapping at the door of the bedchambers—and the unmistakable sound of a male voice on the other side. A hesitant greeting from one of Eris’ advisors. “My lord—” then a pause as though listening for a response. “My lord, we’re scheduled to meet with the chamber of commerce in the next ten minutes.

Eris ran a hand over his face and let out a low growl that might have been an attempt at dramatics or actual irritation, while you burst into a stifled laugh tucked into the corner of his arm. “Be there. Just give me a minute.

The advisor hesitated, then said through the door, “My lord, I must insist we meet with you before the meeting—”

Eris cut him off, raising his voice. “You’re more than welcome to barge in. I will warn you however— that you will get a very full tour of both my body but also my mates. So unless you fancy joining us in the potential conception of my heir, I’d suggest practicing a bit of patience.”

The advisor didn’t reply and you could hear him taking small steps down the hall.

Your laughter burst out as Eris joined in with his deep, hearty chuckle. “You don’t need to torture the poor fellow any more than necessary,” you remarked, leaning up on your forearms.

Eris met your eyes, “If they’re going to work in my home and demand that they be the top of my priority list everyday then I’m going to have to start being more honest with them about what is truly happening behind closed doors.”

Eris gave you a small kiss on the tip of your nose before retreating from the bed. He found his discarded trousers while you rolled back, hugging your knees in what felt like a futile attempt to keep everything inside—a tip from the fertility healer. You rocked slightly on your spine as Eris appeared at the foot of the bed, trousers donned again but his shirt in his fist, leaning over the armoire mirror to fix his hair. He shot you a quick glance before pulling his shirt and vest back on before sauntering over to re-lace his boots.

“Plus,” he went on, “I’d argue this is one of, if not the most important parts of court business right now." Fastening his other boot, he added, “And you, for that matter. So if anyone has problems with how I’m spending my time, I’ll find them in contempt of court.”

You laughed and smacked his arm, earning a smirk in return. He rested a hand on your knee, gesturing to the position you had placed yourself in.

“How long do you have to lay like that?”

With a light shrug, you replied, “I’m not even sure it works, but the healers say I should keep everything inside for ten to fifteen minutes after we’re finished. Apparently, it increases the odds of implantation.”

Eris rubbed your knee slowly, smiling at you. “Do you want me to wait with you? Do you need anything? Water? Food?”

You shook your head, thinking him kind for the gesture. “It’s alright my love, I’ll just stay here a bit longer and then will get up and carry on with the day.”

He looked at you, his eyes full of longing and intense adoration. “I love you, so intensely, it makes my heart ache,” he whispered to you.

“And I you,” you replied as he leaned down to give you another kiss, long and savory.

He stood, walking towards the door and as he reached the doorway he turned and looked back at you, the same sappy, hopelessly romantic expression on his face. “You’re sure you’re okay?” He asked again.

You said with a big of feigned exasperation, “I’m fine, Eris, now go! Or someone is going to get brave enough to come in here.”

His hand rested on the doorframe as he smiled back at you. “I’ll see you at dinner, my love.” He noted and you nodded in agreement before he opened the doors and disappeared down the hall.

What he didn’t know was that part of the fifteen minutes of waiting also included sending out prayers to The Mother to finally let it all fall into place. You had a sinking suspicion that while Eris might be more than happy to take as many years as it needed to have a babe, the rest of the court might not be so patient, and it was your job to ensure it happened.

I need to be spayed. Someone make me an appointment at the vet. It's becoming a problem.

Part 2:

[callsigns-haze]

Greatest treasure

Summary: Eris, newly crowned High Lord of Autumn, prepares for a grand ball while keeping his wife and their three-year-old son, Azer, a secret from the courts. During the event, Azer accidentally reveals his fire magic, causing panic and leading the Inner Circle to discover his existence. Meanwhile, Eris and Y/N, lost in their own world, share a passionate moment in the rain before returning to find their son distressed.

Warning: Contains alcohol, cursing, teasing, mentions of smut, kissing, court politics, mentions of war, distress.

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x reader

English is not my first language so I apologies for mistakes

Eris stands by the window of Azer’s nursery, the late-afternoon sun casting a warm golden glow over the room. The space is cozy, filled with soft autumn hues—deep oranges, rich reds, and browns, like the leaves of the season his court embodies. Your three-year-old son, Azer, sits on the plush rug near his bed, his copper hair glinting like flames in the light. His amber eyes, so much like his father’s, are rimmed with unshed tears as he clutches a small wooden fox, one of his favourite toys.

“Mama, Dada,” Azer says, his tiny voice trembling. “Why can’t I come? Wanna come, too!”

You kneel beside him, smoothing back a lock of his fiery hair. “Oh, my little love,” you say gently, your heart breaking at the wobble in his voice. “This ball is for grown-ups. You get to stay here and have fun with Miss Lyra tonight.”

“But I wanna see,” he hiccups, his face crumpling as tears begin to fall. He tries to hold them back, but soon, soft sobs wrack his small body. “I wanna be with you, Mama. With Dada.”

Eris moves from the window, his regal presence as commanding as ever, though his sharp features soften as he crouches beside you. He reaches out, his long fingers tenderly brushing away Azer’s tears. “Little firefox,” he murmurs, his voice rich and soothing, “I know you’re upset. But you’re my biggest treasure, and treasures like you need to be kept safe.”

Azer hiccups again, his small chest heaving as he shakes his head. “Not treasure. Azer!” he cries, his voice breaking. “Wanna go with Mama and Dada!”

Eris chuckles softly, though his eyes glisten with emotion. “Oh, you are most definitely Azer,” he says, his lips quirking into a smile. “But you’re also my treasure. And treasures stay where they’re safe. Do you understand, little firefox?”

Azer clings to your dress, burying his face against your leg, his tiny fingers fisting the fabric. His sobs quiet slightly, though his hiccups continue. “No ball,” he mumbles, still unconvinced.

You exchange a glance with Eris, your heart aching at the sight of your son’s distress. Eris leans forward, lifting Azer into his arms despite the toddler’s reluctance to let go of you. “Come here, little one,” Eris says, his voice soft as he cradles Azer against his chest. “I know it’s hard, but I promise we won’t be gone forever. And while we’re away, you’ll have a grand time with Miss Lyra. She’ll tell you stories, maybe even about foxes.”

Azer sniffles, his arms wrapping tightly around Eris’s neck as he presses his tear-streaked face into his father’s shoulder. “Don’t wanna,” he whispers, though his sobs are slowing.

A knock at the door signals Lyra’s arrival. The young fae woman steps inside, her kind smile unwavering even as she takes in the scene. “Hello, Azer,” she says gently. “I hear we’re going to have an adventure tonight.”

Eris looks at her over Azer’s head, his expression unreadable but his tone laced with quiet authority. “Good luck,” he murmurs.

Lyra nods, her smile unwavering. “We’ll be just fine, my lord.”

Gently, Eris pulls Azer away from his shoulder, holding him so they’re eye to eye. “Be good for Miss Lyra, little firefox,” he says softly. “We’ll be back before you know it.”

Azer sniffles but nods reluctantly, his small hand reaching out for you one last time. You kiss his forehead, murmuring reassurances before Eris passes him to Lyra.

As you and Eris leave the nursery, the sound of Azer’s soft hiccups follows you, tugging at your heart. Eris takes your hand in his, squeezing gently. “He’ll be fine,” he says, though you suspect he’s reassuring himself as much as you.

Eris strides down the corridor beside you, his hand resting lightly at the small of your back. The grandeur of the Autumn Court is on full display tonight, with servants bustling to and fro, preparing the grand hall for the event of the decade. Despite the meticulous perfection surrounding you—the gleaming floors, the intricate floral arrangements of russet and gold—you can feel the tension radiating off him like heat from a flame.

His jaw is set, his golden eyes narrowed in thought, and his long fingers occasionally twitch at his side, as though yearning for something to grip. You pause mid-step, turning to face him fully.

“Eris,” you say softly, resting a hand on his chest. “We still have two hours before the ball. What’s on your mind?”

He blinks down at you, momentarily startled, before his expression softens. Still, the strain remains etched in his features. “All the High Lords and their families under one roof,” he murmurs, his voice low and thoughtful. “It’s an honour, but also a risk. There’s no telling what alliances may shift tonight—or what grievances may surface.”

You reach up, cupping his cheek, and he leans into your touch for just a moment, closing his eyes. “You’ve worked so hard for this, Eris,” you say, your voice steady and reassuring. “Your father ruled with fear, but you’ve brought peace. Everyone will see that tonight.”

His lips twitch into a faint smile, though his eyes remain shadowed. “Peace is fragile,” he replies, his hand covering yours where it rests on his face. “One misstep, one word out of place, and it can shatter.”

Before you can respond, the sound of hurried footsteps echoes down the corridor. You turn just in time to see Lucien rounding the corner, his auburn hair slightly dishevelled as though he’d been in a rush. His russet eye sparkles with mischief, but the golden mechanical one remains as stoic as ever.

“Ah, there you are,” Lucien says, his tone light as he approaches. “And here I thought you might still be in the nursery with Azer. Poor kid looked ready to stage a rebellion when I passed by earlier.”

Eris snorts softly, though the tension in his shoulders eases ever so slightly. “He’s not happy about missing tonight,” he admits, glancing toward the direction of the nursery.

Lucien raises a brow, his trademark smirk firmly in place. “Well, can you blame him? I wouldn’t want to miss a chance to see all the High Lords bickering like children either.”

You laugh, and even Eris’s lips curve into a reluctant smile. “You always know how to lighten the mood, Lucien,” you say, grateful for his timing.

Lucien winks at you, then looks back at his brother. “Don’t let them get to you, Eris. This is your court now. They’re all just guests in your house.”

Eris inclines his head, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes. “Wise words,” he says, his tone laced with amusement. “For once.”

Lucien feigns offense, clutching his chest dramatically. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” he quips before straightening. “I’ll see you both later. Just try not to burn the place down before the ball starts.”

As he saunters off, you glance at Eris, catching the way his lips have softened into a true smile. For a moment, the weight on his shoulders seems lighter, and you take his hand in yours.

“Lucien’s right,” you say quietly. “This is your court. And tonight, they’ll see the ruler you’ve become.”

Eris squeezes your hand, his gaze holding yours with a warmth that speaks louder than words. “With you by my side,” he murmurs, “I can face anything.”

Eris’s golden eyes hold yours as the tension in his frame melts away, replaced by something softer, more intimate. Without a word, he steps closer, his hand sliding from your waist to the curve of your jaw, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone. He leans in, his breath warm against your skin, and presses a feather-light kiss to your lips. It’s tender and unhurried, a quiet moment in the chaos of the day.

When he pulls back, his gaze searches yours, his expression open in a way he allows only for you. “How are you feeling?” he asks softly, his voice low and laced with concern.

You hesitate, glancing down at your joined hands before looking back up at him. “Nervous,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “This is my first ball, Eris. And not just any ball—it’s your ball. Everyone will be watching, judging.”

His brows knit together, and he shakes his head slightly, the corner of his mouth lifting in a reassuring smile. “Let them watch,” he says, his tone firm but soothing. “Let them judge. You are my wife, my queen. No opinion matters more than mine, and in my eyes, you are perfection.”

Your chest tightens at his words, emotion welling up inside you. “You make it sound so simple,” you murmur, a faint smile tugging at your lips.

He leans down again, his lips brushing your forehead this time, lingering as though to anchor you. “Because it is,” he murmurs against your skin. “They’ll see your strength, your grace, just as I do. You’ve already won them over, my love. They just don’t know it yet.”

His confidence, steady and unwavering, wraps around you like a protective shield. You nod slowly, the tension in your shoulders easing as you draw strength from his presence. “Thank you,” you whisper, your voice steadier now.

Eris straightens, his hand still cradling your face, his thumb tracing idle circles on your cheek. “Thank me later,” he says, a playful glint in his eyes. “After you’ve dazzled them all.”

A laugh escapes you, soft and light, and you realize how much he’s managed to calm you with just a few words and a single kiss. “I’ll hold you to that,” you reply, your smile widening.

“You always do,” he says with a smirk, his fingers lacing through yours as he leads you further down the hall, his hand a steady, grounding presence in yours.

The grand staircase of the Autumn Court’s palace gleams before you, each step a work of art with intricate carvings of leaves and vines, polished to a mirror-like sheen. You descend slowly, your arm looped through Eris’s, the weight of the evening settling over you with each step. The chandeliers above—crafted from amber and crystal—cast a warm glow that dances across the walls, making the entire space seem alive.

As you step onto the marble floor of the ballroom, you pause, taking in the sheer magnitude of the space. The room stretches farther than you remember, its high vaulted ceilings adorned with autumn leaves that seem to flutter as though caught in a gentle breeze. The rich hues of gold, crimson, and burnt orange dominate the décor, and the air is filled with the soft hum of string instruments warming up in the far corner.

You glance around, your brows furrowing slightly as you take in the grandeur. “Did it… get bigger?” you ask, your voice quiet but tinged with awe.

Eris glances down at you, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Not exactly,” he replies, his tone amused. “Though I did make a few… adjustments.”

“Adjustments?” you repeat, arching a brow as you look back at the ballroom.

He gestures subtly toward the far end of the room, where a raised dais now sits, flanked by towering arrangements of fiery flowers. “The ceiling was enchanted to give the illusion of more space,” he explains, his voice laced with pride. “And the dais was added to ensure everyone has a clear view of their High Lord and Lady tonight.”

You bite back a smile, glancing up at him. “You mean so they can have a clear view of you.”

His golden eyes glint mischievously as he leans in closer, his breath brushing your ear. “Perhaps,” he murmurs, his voice low, “but I suspect they’ll find their gazes drawn to you.”

Heat rises to your cheeks at his words, but you quickly compose yourself, your gaze sweeping over the ballroom once more. The attention to detail is staggering, from the delicate leaf patterns etched into the marble columns to the soft golden light that seems to bathe everything in warmth. The room hums with anticipation, even though most of the guests have yet to arrive.

“You’ve outdone yourself,” you say, your voice soft but sincere.

Eris tilts his head, his smirk softening into something more genuine. “It’s not just for me,” he says quietly. “This is your debut as well. I wanted it to be perfect for you.”

Your heart swells at his words, and you squeeze his arm gently, your nerves settling ever so slightly. “It’s perfect,” you assure him, and for the first time that evening, you truly believe it.

As you and Eris walk further into the grand ballroom, the low hum of the musicians tuning their instruments fills the air, mingling with the soft rustle of your gown as it sweeps across the polished marble floor. Despite the grandeur surrounding you, your thoughts drift back to the nursery, to the way Azer clung to you, his little hands trembling as he sobbed.

You stop walking, your steps faltering as a pang of guilt twists in your chest. Eris notices immediately, turning to face you, his golden eyes filled with concern. “What is it?” he asks, his voice low and gentle.

You glance around the empty room, ensuring no one is near enough to overhear, before looking back at him. “I feel terrible about leaving Azer,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “He was so upset, Eris. The way he cried, the way he begged to come with us…” Your throat tightens, and you shake your head, willing yourself not to let the guilt overwhelm you.

Eris’s expression softens, and he steps closer, his hand coming to rest against your cheek. “Little firefox is safe,” he says gently. “Lyra will care for him as if he were her own. You know that.”

“I know,” you murmur, your voice trembling slightly. “But it doesn’t make it any easier. He doesn’t understand why we had to leave. All he knows is that we’re not there, and he wanted to be with us.”

Eris sighs softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek in a soothing gesture. “I feel it too,” he admits, his tone quieter now. “Every time he cries like that, it feels like my heart is being torn apart. But this—tonight—is important. For our court, for our family. He’ll understand one day.”

You look up at him, searching his face for reassurance. “What if he doesn’t, Eris? What if he remembers this as the night we chose the court over him?”

His brows knit together, and he leans down, pressing his forehead against yours. “He won’t,” he says firmly. “Because when this ball is over, we’ll go straight back to him. We’ll hold him, kiss him, tell him how much we love him. Azer knows he’s our world—he feels it every day in the way we care for him.”

The conviction in his voice eases some of the tension in your chest, and you close your eyes, drawing strength from his presence. “I just hate seeing him so upset,” you whisper.

Eris tilts your chin up, his golden eyes locking with yours. “So do I,” he says softly. “But Azer is strong, just like his mother. And Lyra is with him. He’s safe, loved, and cared for. That’s what matters most.”

You nod slowly, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. “You’re right,” you say, though the ache in your chest lingers. “I just needed to say it.”

His lips curve into a small smile, and he presses a kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment. “You never need to keep anything from me,” he murmurs. “Not your fears, not your guilt. I’ll carry them with you, always.”

The grand ballroom is serene for a moment, the soft hum of the musicians and the flicker of enchanted autumn leaves overhead creating a tranquil atmosphere. You’ve just started to steady yourself, leaning into Eris’s calming presence, when the sound of frantic footsteps echoes through the halls.

Eris straightens, his golden eyes narrowing as he turns toward the source of the commotion. The double doors at the far end of the ballroom burst open with a resounding thud, and Alev, one of Eris’s younger brothers, comes barrelling in. His crimson hair is wild, his face flushed with exertion. Behind him, Lucien storms into the room, his expression murderous, his mechanical eye glowing ominously.

“You little bastard!” Lucien shouts, his voice reverberating off the marble walls. “I’m going to kill you!”

Alev skids to a stop in the centre of the ballroom, his chest heaving as he glances around wildly. His gaze lands on you and Eris, and he raises his hands in mock surrender. “Eris! Help! Your psychotic brother’s lost it!”

Lucien’s growl is low and dangerous as he stalks toward Alev, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. “Lost it? You set my bloody room on fire, you little menace!”

Alev’s eyes widen in mock innocence, his lips twitching as though he’s holding back laughter. “I didn’t set it on fire! I just—enhanced the ambiance! You know, for the ball.”

“Enhanced the ambiance?” Lucien roars, his mechanical eye flaring brighter. “You scorched half my wardrobe!”

Eris pinches the bridge of his nose, a long-suffering sigh escaping him. “For the love of the Cauldron,” he mutters under his breath before stepping forward, his authoritative presence silencing the chaos.

“Alev,” Eris says, his tone calm but laced with warning. “What did you do?”

Alev shifts nervously, the smirk fading slightly under his older brother’s piercing gaze. “It was just a little spell,” he admits, his voice lighter than it should be. “A small spark to set the mood. I may have underestimated how... flammable Lucien’s curtains were.”

Lucien points an accusatory finger at him. “Curtains, rugs, half the bloody furniture—Eris, I swear, if you don’t deal with him, I will.”

Eris raises a hand, silencing Lucien with a single look. “Alev,” he says slowly, his voice like a crackling flame, “do you have any idea how much chaos you’ve caused? Tonight of all nights?”

Alev grins sheepishly. “I was trying to help! You know, add a little Autumn Court flair to his otherwise... bland quarters.”

Lucien lets out an incredulous laugh, clearly seconds away from lunging at his brother. “Bland? You—”

“Enough,” Eris snaps, his voice sharp and commanding. Both brothers freeze, their gazes snapping to him. He exhales slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose again. “Alev, go fix what you’ve destroyed. Now. And if I hear so much as a whisper of another incident tonight, you’ll wish it was Lucien dealing with you instead of me.”

Alev blinks, then nods quickly. “Right. Fix it. Got it.” He turns on his heel and bolts for the doors, though not without throwing Lucien a cheeky grin over his shoulder.

Lucien groans, running a hand through his hair as he turns to Eris. “You see what I have to deal with? How have you not strangled him yet?”

Eris smirks faintly, his composure returning. “Patience,” he replies, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “And the knowledge that one day, he’ll slip up enough to give me a good excuse.”

You can’t help but laugh softly, the tension from earlier momentarily lifted. Eris turns to you, his expression softening. “Shall we expect more dramatics tonight, or are you ready to face the ball?”

“With your family?” you tease lightly. “I’d say both are inevitable.”

Eris chuckles, offering you his arm once more. “You’re learning,” he says with a smirk, leading you toward the doors. “Now, let’s see if we can survive the evening without another catastrophe.”

You pause just before the grand ballroom doors, your arm still looped through Eris’s. Your gaze lingers on him, soft and questioning, and he stops in his tracks. He knows that look of yours—he’s learned it all too well. The unspoken request, the subtle tilt of your head, the way your lips press together as though you’re carefully choosing your words.

“You want to go check on him,” Eris says quietly, his voice laced with understanding.

You nod, biting your lip. “I know Lyra is with him, and I know he’s fine, but… this is the longest I’ll have been away from him since he was born. It feels—”

“Strange,” Eris finishes for you, his golden eyes softening as they meet yours. “I know.”

You glance down at the floor, guilt pooling in your chest. “I just… I need to see him, Eris. Just for a moment.”

He gently lifts your chin with his fingers, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “My love,” he says softly, his tone carrying a calm authority, “I understand how you feel. Truly. But Azer is safe. This is good for him. He needs to learn a little independence, and so do you.”

You blink at him, your emotions warring within you. “I just feel like I’m abandoning him,” you whisper.

Eris sighs, his hand slipping to rest on your waist. “You’re not abandoning him. You’re showing him that his mother is more than just his caretaker. That she’s strong, graceful, and capable of leading beside me. And when we go back to him tonight, he’ll see that too.”

You nod slowly, his words sinking in, though the ache in your chest remains. Before you can reply, the sound of hurried footsteps echoes behind you, and you both turn just as Alev comes bounding into the room.

“Alev,” Eris says sharply, his brows furrowing, “what now?”

Alev skids to a stop, his hair still slightly dishevelled, though his grin is as irreverent as ever. “Relax, brother,” he says, holding up his hands. “I just thought I’d let you know—I stopped by the nursery on my way back down.”

You inhale sharply, your attention snapping to him. “And? How was Azer?”

Alev hesitates for half a second, glancing nervously over your shoulder. It’s only then that he sees the warning glare Eris is shooting him—a silent command to tread carefully.

“Oh, uh… he’s fine!” Alev says quickly, his grin widening. “Totally fine. Lyra had him all snuggled up in his favourite blanket. He wasn’t crying or anything. Just… looking at his little fox toy. Happy as can be.”

You exhale a shaky breath, relief washing over you. “Thank you, Alev,” you say sincerely, your shoulders relaxing.

Alev shrugs, his grin turning a little sheepish. “No problem. Figured you’d want to know.”

Behind you, Eris arches a brow, his golden eyes still fixed on his younger brother. “Thank you for your… insightful report,” he says dryly, though his tone carries an unspoken promise of consequences if Alev had dared say anything to upset you.

Alev throws him a mock salute before backing away, his grin still in place. “Well, I’ll leave you two to it. Try not to burn the place down while I’m gone.”

As he disappears back into the corridor, Eris sighs and turns to you, his hands sliding to rest on your arms. “See? He’s fine,” he says softly. “And now, so are you. Let’s do this together.”

You nod, leaning into him for a brief moment before squaring your shoulders. “Okay,” you whisper, allowing him to guide you forward.

With Eris by your side, you take the final step into the ballroom, ready to face whatever the evening holds.

-----

The ballroom is alive with music, laughter, and the soft clinking of glasses, but it all feels distant, a blurred backdrop to your rising tension. You sit at one of the ornately carved tables near the edge of the room, the deep burgundy of your wine a sharp contrast to the delicate gold trim of the goblet you hold. You take another sip—no, more like a gulp—your grip on the stem tight enough to make your knuckles ache.

Three hours. Three endless hours. You’ve smiled, curtsied, and exchanged pleasantries with the High Lords of Spring, Dawn, Summer, and Winter. Each interaction had felt like a delicate dance, one misstep away from disaster. Tamlin of Spring had been cordial enough, though his words carried a stiffness that matched the tight line of his jaw. Thesan of Dawn had been polite and warm, his genuine curiosity about your role as Lady of Autumn easing some of your nerves, if only for a moment. The Summer Court’s Tarquin had offered a quiet strength in his presence, his words measured but kind. Kallias of Winter had been formal, his icy demeanour a stark contrast to the fiery warmth of the Autumn Court.

And through it all, you’d managed to maintain the poised, composed exterior that Eris had assured you would command their respect. But now, seated alone at the table, your mask of grace and elegance is beginning to crack.

Your gaze flicks across the room to the Night Court delegation, where Lucien is engaged in animated conversation with Rhysand, Feyre, and their inner circle. Even from this distance, you can see the easy camaraderie between them, the subtle smiles and the occasional laughter that spill from their group. You know Lucien feels more at home with them than he does here, and while you understand, it does little to soothe your unease.

Helion, at least, had been a comforting presence earlier in the evening. You’d known him long before tonight, ever since Eris’s mother, Arlene, had moved into the Day Court after Beron’s death. Helion’s warmth and humour had provided a brief reprieve from the relentless formalities of the evening, but now, with him occupied elsewhere, you feel untethered.

Eris is across the room, locked in conversation with one of his advisors, his expression sharp and unreadable. You know he’s keeping an eye on you, even from afar, but right now, his watchful presence does little to ease the knot of anxiety in your chest.

As you lift your goblet for another sip, a familiar voice cuts through the noise. “You look like you’re plotting someone’s demise,” Alev remarks, his tone laced with amusement as he slides into the seat beside you.

You glance at him, raising a brow. “And if I were?”

He grins, leaning back in his chair with an air of casual defiance. “Depends. Is it someone I’d enjoy watching you take down?”

A small, reluctant smile tugs at your lips, though it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “I think the only thing keeping me from snapping is this wine,” you admit, swirling the liquid in your goblet. “And even that might not be enough.”

Alev chuckles, his crimson hair catching the golden glow of the chandeliers above. “Come on, it can’t be that bad. You’ve survived half the High Lords already. What’s one more?”

You cast a pointed glance at the Night Court, where Lucien is still deep in conversation. “It’s not just one more,” you say quietly. “It’s Rhysand and his entire inner circle. They’re… intimidating.”

Alev follows your gaze, his expression thoughtful. “They don’t look so scary to me. Lucien seems to be holding his own.”

“Lucien is used to them,” you counter. “I’m not.”

He shrugs, his grin returning. “Well, if they give you any trouble, just sic Eris on them. Or me. I’d be happy to cause a little chaos on your behalf.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “That’s the last thing we need tonight, Alev.”

“Maybe,” he concedes, his tone teasing. “But it’d make for a more entertaining evening, wouldn’t it?”

You can’t help but smile at his antics, the tension in your shoulders easing just slightly. Alev may be a troublemaker, but in moments like this, his irreverent humour is exactly what you need.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, your voice barely audible over the din of the ballroom.

He glances at you, his smirk softening into something more genuine. “Anytime,” he says, his voice steady and sincere.

As the night drags on, the noise in the ballroom seems to grow louder, the laughter and chatter blending into an indistinct hum. You glance over at Eris, still engaged in conversation with his advisor, his posture rigid and his expression betraying the strain of the evening.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you see him step away from the group. His stride is slower than usual, his shoulders slightly slumped, and his usually sharp golden eyes seem dimmer, weighed down by the demands of his title.

He spots you immediately, his gaze softening as he makes his way across the room. The exhaustion etched into his features is stark, his mask of courtly perfection slipping now that he’s out of the scrutinizing eyes of the other lords and advisors.

When he reaches your table, he lets out a long, quiet sigh and sits down heavily beside you. His hand brushes over yours briefly before he leans back, rubbing his temples.

“Tired already, my Lord?” you tease lightly, though your voice carries a note of sympathy.

He lets out a dry chuckle, his lips twitching into the faintest smile. “If I hear one more thinly veiled threat disguised as flattery, I might set the whole ballroom on fire.”

You laugh softly and pick up your goblet, extending it toward him without a word. He glances at you, a flicker of surprise crossing his face, but he doesn’t hesitate. He takes the wine from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours, and drinks deeply.

When he sets the goblet down, he exhales, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Thank you,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough.

“Anytime,” you reply, your lips quirking into a small smile. “Consider it a perk of having me as your wife.”

His golden eyes meet yours, a spark of warmth cutting through his exhaustion. “The best perk,” he says quietly, his hand finding yours under the table and giving it a gentle squeeze.

His hand still resting over yours, his thumb tracing idle circles against your skin. There’s a spark of something in his eyes now, a lightness that hadn’t been there earlier. He shifts in his seat, straightening slightly, and turns to face you fully.

“Dance with me,” he says softly, his voice low and inviting, though it’s more a request than a command.

You blink at him, momentarily surprised. “Here? Now?”

His lips curve into a faint smirk. “Why not? I’m owed at least one dance tonight, and I’d rather have it with you than anyone else.”

You glance around the bustling ballroom, the glittering gowns and polished boots of the other guests reflecting the glow of the chandeliers above. Before you can voice any hesitation, Eris stands and offers his hand to you, his golden eyes glinting with determination.

“Come,” he murmurs. “I know a better place.”

Intrigued, you slide your hand into his, letting him guide you away from the crowded floor. He leads you toward the grand doors that have been opened to the gardens, where the fresh, crisp scent of rain drifts in on the cool night air. The gardens, transformed into an extended ballroom, glimmer under the soft glow of floating lanterns.

The rain is gentle, a light mist that barely kisses your skin as Eris steps into the open garden, the soft patter against the stone tiles creating a melody of its own. He turns to you, his hair catching the golden light, and extends his hand again.

“Will you dance with me here?” he asks, his voice softer now, almost tender.

You glance up at the misty sky, the droplets shimmering like tiny diamonds as they fall. “It’s raining,” you say, though there’s no protest in your tone.

“A little rain never hurt anyone,” Eris replies, his lips quirking into a playful smile. “Besides, it’s quieter here. Just us.”

Your heart flutters at the sincerity in his words, and you place your hand in his once more. He pulls you close, one arm wrapping around your waist while the other holds your hand, his grip steady and sure.

As the music from the ballroom drifts faintly into the garden, Eris begins to sway with you, guiding you effortlessly across the rain-slicked tiles. The world feels smaller here, the distant chatter and laughter fading away until it’s just the two of you, moving together under the soft drizzle.

The rain cools your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of Eris’s touch as he holds you close. His gaze never leaves yours, golden and intent, filled with a quiet affection that steals your breath.

“You’ve been incredible tonight,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the gentle patter of rain. “I know how hard this is for you. But you’ve handled it all with grace.”

You shake your head slightly, a small laugh escaping you. “If grace means aggressively sipping wine and hiding from the High Lords, then sure.”

Eris chuckles, his breath warm against your temple as he pulls you even closer. “To me, it means being yourself. Even when it’s hard.”

The sincerity in his words makes your chest ache, and you rest your head against his shoulder, letting him lead you in the quiet dance. The rain falls softly around you, catching in his fiery hair and soaking into the rich fabric of his suit, but neither of you care.

In this moment, with the garden as your ballroom and the rain as your accompaniment, the weight of the evening lifts, leaving only the warmth of his presence and the steady rhythm of your hearts.

-----

From the balcony overlooking the garden, the Night Court’s inner circle had gathered, drawn by the faint sound of laughter and the soft glow of lanterns spilling into the misty rain. Feyre leaned against the railing, her hand loosely intertwined with Rhysand’s, while Cassian and Azriel stood nearby, their dark wings slightly folded, their gazes sharp. Mor and Amren were seated on a cushioned bench, but even they couldn’t resist peering out into the rain-soaked garden below.

The scene unfolding before them was nothing short of surprising.

“There,” Mor murmured, gesturing with a tilt of her chin.

Eris Vanserra, of all people, was dancing in the rain. But it wasn’t the stiff, performative kind of dance they’d expect from the newly crowned High Lord of Autumn. This was… intimate. Genuine.

He moved with an easy grace, his hands firmly guiding his partner—you, his wife—across the rain-slicked stones. The faint music from the ballroom drifted into the night, but it seemed almost irrelevant. The two of you were lost in your own rhythm, your laughter carrying softly on the cool breeze.

“Is that…?” Cassian began, leaning forward as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“It’s his wife,” Feyre confirmed, her lips curving into a faint smile.

Rhysand said nothing, his violet eyes narrowing as he observed Eris’s expression.

They had seen him many times before: sharp, calculating, cruel. A predator dressed in finery. But now? Now, he looked like someone entirely different.

As the inner circle watched, Eris suddenly dropped to one knee, his fiery hair damp with rain, his hand disappearing beneath the delicate folds of your gown. The motion was quick, fluid, and in an instant, he pulled out a dagger from some hidden sheath at his side.

“What the hell is he doing?” Azriel murmured, his shadows swirling with tension.

But their apprehension faded as Eris took the dagger to the hem of your dress, his movements precise as he carefully cut another slit along the fabric. The silk parted easily beneath the blade, creating a matching slit opposite the one already present. He sheathed the dagger just as quickly, the glint of the blade vanishing into the folds of his coat.

You were laughing, your head thrown back as you leaned against his shoulder, and Eris stood, brushing his fingers along the edge of the fabric to ensure it wouldn’t catch. He whispered something to you, too soft for the onlookers to hear, and then—without warning—he lifted you off the ground.

Your laughter rang out, light and joyful, as he spun you in a circle, his hands steady at your waist. The movement was effortless, as though he had done it a thousand times before. The lantern light caught the droplets of rain clinging to his hair, his suit, and most notably, the smile on his face.

A real smile.

Not the cunning smirk he so often wore, nor the sly grin meant to unsettle his enemies. This was something deeper, something softer, something the inner circle had never seen before.

“Is he… smiling?” Cassian asked, incredulous.

Mor leaned forward, her golden hair glinting in the light. “I think he is,” she said, her voice tinged with equal parts awe and disbelief.

“That’s a first,” Amren muttered, though even her silver eyes softened at the sight.

Feyre glanced at Rhys, her brow slightly raised. “Do you think he’s actually happy?” she asked quietly.

Rhysand didn’t answer immediately. His gaze remained fixed on Eris, watching as he set you back on your feet with a gentleness that seemed impossible for the man they thought they knew. The way his hands lingered at your waist, the way his head tilted down to hear your laugh more clearly—it wasn’t an act.

“I think,” Rhys finally said, his voice low, “we’ve never seen the real Eris Vanserra before.”

Below, Eris leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead, his smile lingering as he pulled you closer. The rain continued to fall, unnoticed by either of you, and the inner circle watched in silence, captivated by the unguarded, unexpected display of love from a man they had always considered unfeeling.

For the first time, Eris Vanserra seemed… fae. And it left them with far more questions than answers.

The inner circle remained silent, captivated by the unexpected scene unfolding in the rain-soaked garden below. None of them had ever thought Eris capable of such tenderness, let alone joy. It was a moment so foreign, so incongruous with the man they had come to know, that they could hardly look away.

“Enjoying the show, are we?”

The voice came from behind them, sharp and laced with amusement. They all turned to see Alev Vanserra, Eris’s younger brother, leaning casually against the doorway that led to the balcony. His crimson hair was damp from the rain, and his amber eyes gleamed with a mischievous light.

Cassian narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms. “You’re surprisingly cheerful for someone who just fled the ballroom with your brother shouting after you.”

Alev smirked, shrugging one shoulder. “Eris is always shouting about something. I’ve learned to tune it out.”

Mor arched a brow, stepping closer. “And what about you? Shouldn’t you be inside, causing chaos?”

“I could,” Alev said with a mock-serious nod. “But then I wouldn’t get to see all of your reactions to this.” He gestured toward the garden, where Eris had just twirled you again, your dress fanning out as you laughed.

Azriel’s shadows coiled tighter around him, his expression unreadable. “What do you want, Alev?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Alev said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Just thought I’d join the peanut gallery for a moment. Watching Eris act like an actual person is a rare event, after all. Wouldn’t want to miss it.”

Feyre tilted her head, studying him. “You don’t seem surprised.”

Alev’s grin softened, just slightly. “Why would I be? He’s always been like this with her. The rest of you just never get to see it.”

That earned a flicker of interest from Rhysand, who regarded Alev with his usual inscrutable expression. “You’re saying this is common?”

“With her? Absolutely,” Alev replied, his gaze drifting back to the garden. “With everyone else? Not so much. She’s… different for him. Special.”

Cassian scoffed, but there was no real malice in it. “Hard to imagine Eris Vanserra being soft for anyone.”

“Maybe that’s your problem,” Alev shot back, his tone still light but carrying an edge. “You’ve all only ever seen the mask he wears for court. That’s not who he is—not completely.”

Rhys’s violet eyes narrowed slightly. “And you’d defend him, after everything?”

Alev’s smirk faded, and for a moment, his gaze hardened. “I’m not defending him,” he said quietly. “I’m just saying there’s more to him than you know. That’s all.”

The inner circle exchanged glances, the weight of his words hanging in the air.

“And if you’ll excuse me,” Alev added, his usual smirk returning, “I’ve got a drink waiting for me inside. Enjoy the show.”

With that, he turned and disappeared back into the ballroom, leaving them to mull over his words as they returned their attention to the rain-drenched garden below.

The rain had picked up slightly, but you hardly noticed, lost in the rhythm of Eris’s movements as he twirled you around the garden. The music from the ballroom drifted faintly on the air, but the sound of your laughter drowned it out, the world narrowing to just the two of you.

Eris spun you faster this time, his hand firm on yours, the other resting at the small of your back. You let out a surprised laugh, swatting at his arm when the spinning became a little too enthusiastic.

“Eris!” you exclaimed, breathless. “You’re going to make me fall.”

He smirked, the playful glint in his golden eyes shining brighter than the lanterns. “I’d never let you fall, my love,” he replied, his voice smooth and teasing. “But you do look rather adorable when you’re dizzy.”

Before you could retort, he abruptly caught you mid-spin and pulled you close, dipping you dramatically. The world tilted, your hands instinctively flying to his shoulders to steady yourself, but his grip was unyielding, his strength evident even in the gentlest touch.

“I’ll have to remember that move,” he teased, his fiery hair falling slightly into his eyes as he leaned down. “It keeps you right where I want you.”

Your heart fluttered at the intensity of his gaze, at the way the rain clung to his lashes and dampened the sharp lines of his face. “You’re impossible,” you said, though your voice lacked any true heat.

“And yet, you’re still here,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours in a fleeting, tantalizing kiss.

You let out a soft laugh, your fingers curling into the fabric of his coat. “For now.”

He arched a brow, his smirk deepening. “Careful, little fox,” he said, his voice low and teasing as he dipped you even lower, his grip unshakable. “You wouldn’t want me to think you’re challenging me.”

The rain fell heavier now, but the warmth of his breath against your skin, the steadiness of his hold, and the fire in his eyes made you forget the chill. Then, without warning, he kissed you again, this time deeper, his lips stealing the last of your breath and leaving you utterly lost in him.

When he finally pulled back, he straightened, bringing you with him as he set you back on your feet. “Admit it,” he said, his voice a mix of smugness and affection. “You’re having fun.”

You rolled your eyes, though your flushed cheeks and lingering smile betrayed you. “You’re lucky I love you,” you muttered, swatting his arm again.

He caught your hand this time, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before spinning you once more, his laughter blending with yours as the rain continued to fall.

Back on the balcony, the inner circle remained transfixed, watching the scene unfold below. Eris’s laughter—actual, genuine laughter—carried faintly through the rain, blending with the sound of your own.

Cassian let out a low whistle, shaking his head in disbelief. “I think I’ve seen everything now. Eris Vanserra laughing, smiling, and dancing in the rain? Who knew he had it in him.”

Mor leaned against the railing, her golden hair glinting faintly in the lantern light. “It’s not just the laughing,” she said, her voice quieter, more contemplative. “Look at him. He’s… happy. Like, actually happy.”

“That’s what love will do to you,” Feyre murmured, her lips curving into a small smile as she watched Eris dip you low, your laughter ringing out like a melody.

Amren snorted from her seat, her sharp silver eyes flicking briefly toward the scene. “Or madness. The line between the two is thinner than most think.”

Azriel, standing slightly apart from the group, didn’t respond. His shadows swirled around him, reflecting the tension in his stance, but his gaze remained fixed on Eris. “He’s not who we thought he was,” he said finally, his voice low and even.

Rhysand, who had been quiet for some time, rested his hands on the balcony rail, his violet eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “No,” he agreed. “He’s not.”

The High Lord’s gaze flicked to Alev’s empty chair, a shadow of a smirk tugging at his lips. “His brother wasn’t wrong. We’ve only seen the side of him that benefits his games. This…” He gestured vaguely to the garden below, where Eris had just spun you again, your dress fanning out as you swatted at him, both of you laughing. “This is new. For us, at least.”

“And you’re telling me this,” Cassian said, pointing toward Eris with an incredulous look, “is the same bastard who tried to burn Lucien alive as a kid? The same Eris who—”

“Yes,” Rhys said simply, cutting him off. “But people are more complicated than their worst moments, Cassian. He’s been playing a role for a long time. Maybe too long.”

Cassian grunted, clearly unconvinced, but he didn’t argue further.

Mor crossed her arms, her gaze still fixed on the garden. “Do you think he’s changed?”

“Not entirely,” Rhys replied, his tone careful. “But maybe he’s… trying.”

“Or maybe she’s the one who changes him,” Feyre added softly, her eyes warm as she watched you laugh and lean into Eris’s chest.

Amren huffed. “Let’s not start romanticizing the brute just yet. A few dances in the rain don’t erase centuries of cruelty.”

“No,” Feyre agreed, turning her gaze toward Rhys. “But it does mean there’s more to him than we thought. And maybe that’s worth watching.”

As the conversation continued, Eris dipped you once more, pressing a kiss to your lips that left you smiling even as the rain began to drench your hair and dress. The sight of his rare, unguarded happiness lingered in their minds, sparking a quiet, uneasy realization: the man they thought they knew might not be the whole story after all.

The rain, which had started as a light drizzle, suddenly intensified into a downpour. The soft patter turned into a symphony of heavy drops, soaking through your dress and Eris’s fine clothes in seconds.

You let out a startled laugh, trying to shield your face with your hands as the water cascaded down. “Eris!” you exclaimed, blinking against the deluge. “This is no longer romantic—it’s a storm!”

Eris, his fiery hair plastered to his forehead, grinned mischievously. “Didn’t you say you wanted an unforgettable night, little fox?”

Before you could respond, he grabbed your hand, tugging you forward with an energy that made your heart race. “Come on!”

“Where are we going?” you called, laughing even as you stumbled after him.

“To the other side of the garden!” he shouted over the roar of the rain, his voice carrying above the chaos.

The two of you darted through the garden, your soaked skirts clinging to your legs and slowing your pace. Eris kept a firm grip on your hand, guiding you expertly around puddles and flowerbeds as you both ran toward the sheltered pavilion on the far side.

The rain lashed harder, drenching every inch of you, but neither of you seemed to care. Your laughter mingled with the storm, and despite the chill, there was a warmth in the way Eris glanced back at you, his golden eyes bright with exhilaration.

Finally, you reached the pavilion, the stone archway offering a reprieve from the downpour. You collapsed against one of the columns, breathless and laughing, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath.

Eris joined you, his hands braced on either side of the column as he leaned in close, droplets of rain rolling down his sharp jawline. “You’re drenched,” he said, his tone teasing but his gaze soft.

“So are you,” you shot back, flicking a strand of wet hair from your face.

He chuckled, his fingers reaching up to tuck the errant strand behind your ear. “You look beautiful like this,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone.

Your heart skipped a beat at the sincerity in his words. “You’re impossible,” you whispered, though your smile betrayed your affection.

“And you love me for it,” he replied, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to your rain-slicked lips.

For a moment, the world faded—the storm, the ball, the weight of the crown Eris now wore. It was just the two of you, drenched and laughing, hidden away in your own little corner of the garden.

The inner circle remained on the balcony, now huddled beneath the stone awning to avoid the storm's reach. The rain lashed against the marble, a distant echo to the laughter that had accompanied you and Eris as you darted out of sight into the garden. The scene below was empty now, the storm masking all but the faint music from the ballroom.

Lucien approached from the stairwell, his auburn hair slightly damp, his gold and russet eye catching the flickering light of the lanterns. He paused when he saw them, his lips curving into a wry smile.

“You’re all watching him like he’s some sort of rare creature in the wild,” he said, crossing his arms as he joined them at the railing.

Cassian leaned against the stone, smirking. “You can’t tell me that wasn’t worth watching. Your brother, spinning his wife like a lovestruck fool in the middle of a downpour?” He chuckled. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

Lucien arched a brow, his good eye narrowing slightly. “Careful, Cassian. Eris isn’t as oblivious as you’d like to think. He’s likely aware of every one of you standing here gawking.”

Mor scoffed, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “He didn’t even glance this way. He was too busy playing prince charming.”

“He didn’t need to,” Lucien said, a hint of exasperation in his tone. “Eris always knows his surroundings, especially now. But I suppose none of you would understand how much that crown weighs—on him, on her.”

Rhysand tilted his head slightly, watching Lucien with mild curiosity. “You sound almost… sympathetic, Lucien.”

Lucien shrugged, his gaze drifting toward the rain-soaked garden. “I know what it’s like to have people assume they know you, to reduce you to your worst moments. And I know what it’s like to see someone you care about carry more than they should.”

His words hung in the air, a quiet truth none of them could argue.

Azriel’s shadows coiled tighter, his voice breaking the silence. “Do you believe he’s changed?”

Lucien hesitated, his jaw tightening as if weighing his words. “I believe he’s trying. For her, for their-... And that’s more than I ever thought possible.”

Feyre studied him, her expression softening. “You’ve seen it firsthand, haven’t you?”

Lucien nodded, a faint, almost reluctant smile tugging at his lips. “He’s still Eris—sharp edges and all. But when he’s with her…” His gaze flicked to the garden again, where the rain still fell heavily. “It’s like those edges dull, just a little. He loves her. Fiercely. And I think that scares him as much as it comforts him.”

Cassian snorted, shaking his head. “Fierce or not, he’s still the same arrogant bastard who—”

“Cassian,” Rhys warned, his tone light but carrying enough weight to make the Illyrian warrior pause.

Lucien’s smile didn’t falter, but there was a dangerous gleam in his russet eye as he turned toward Cassian. “He is arrogant,” he agreed smoothly. “And he’s made mistakes. But don’t let your biases blind you to what’s in front of you.”

Mor looked ready to interject, but Rhys raised a hand, silencing her. “That’s enough,” he said, his gaze lingering on Lucien. “We’re not here to pass judgment—yet.”

Lucien inclined his head, though the tension in his frame didn’t ease. “Just remember, Rhysand. Whatever you think of Eris, she chose him. And she seems happy.”

With that, Lucien stepped back, his gaze once again drawn to the stormy garden. His expression softened, a flicker of something unreadable passing across his face before he turned and walked back into the ballroom, leaving the inner circle to ponder his words in silence.

The rain continued to fall in heavy sheets as Eris led you deeper into the garden, his steps purposeful despite the mud slicking the stone paths. The storm seemed to heighten everything—the cool, wet air against your skin, the pounding of your heart, the way his golden eyes burned with something primal and unrestrained.

Before you could fully process his intent, he stopped abruptly, turning to face you. Without a word, his hands slid to your waist, and in one swift, commanding movement, he pressed you back against the soft grass beneath the open sky.

“Eris,” you murmured, your voice breathless as your hands instinctively reached up to grip the lapels of his soaked coat.

He leaned down, his body caging yours, every line of him sharp and unyielding against the storm’s chaos. “Shh, little fox,” he whispered, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver through you. “You’re mine tonight. All of you.”

His lips descended on yours, fierce and demanding, yet somehow achingly tender. The rain pelted down around you, but you barely felt it, too consumed by the heat of his kiss. His hands roamed your sides, his touch grounding you even as it left you utterly undone.

The kiss deepened, his tongue teasing yours with a skill that left you breathless. You arched into him, your fingers threading through his damp hair as his hand slid to the curve of your hip, pulling you impossibly closer.

When he finally broke the kiss, his lips brushed against your jaw, your neck, trailing heat in their wake. “You drive me mad,” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough and unguarded. “Do you know that?”

Your heart thundered in your chest, your voice a trembling whisper as you replied, “You’re one to talk.”

He laughed softly, the sound vibrating through you as he leaned back just enough to meet your gaze. The storm raged on around you, but in his eyes, there was only fire—fire that promised he’d never let you go.

“You’re mine,” he said again, the words a vow as his lips claimed yours once more, his body sheltering you from the storm even as his kiss consumed you completely.

Eris pulled back slightly, his breath warm against your rain-cooled skin, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. His golden eyes roamed over your face, his expression caught somewhere between reverence and possessiveness, as though he couldn’t quite believe you were real.

You opened your mouth to say something, to tease him or demand another kiss, but he beat you to it. “I should take you back inside,” he murmured, though his hands stayed firm on your hips, pinning you to the soft, rain-drenched earth. “But I can’t seem to let you go.”

You let out a shaky laugh, brushing a soaked strand of his hair away from his face. “Maybe I don’t want you to.”

His grin was slow and wicked, the kind that always made your pulse race. “Is that so?” he asked, lowering his lips to the hollow of your throat, pressing a kiss there that made you shiver despite the heat pooling in your stomach.

The rain continued to fall, soaking through both your clothes and the soft earth beneath you, but neither of you cared. Eris shifted slightly, his body a solid, grounding weight against yours, his hands sliding from your waist to your thighs, his thumbs tracing lazy circles through the fabric of your dress.

“You’re everything to me, little fox,” he said softly, his voice raw with emotion. “Do you know that? My world begins and ends with you.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, though you weren’t sure if it was from the intensity of his words or the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing that mattered. “Eris,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you cupped his face, forcing him to meet your gaze. “I love you. More than anything.”

His breath hitched at your words, his lips parting as if to respond, but instead, he kissed you again, pouring every ounce of his devotion into it.

The storm raged on, but in that moment, nothing else existed—just you, Eris, and the fire that burned between you, unquenchable even by the rain.

-----

The ballroom carried on in its lively revelry, the swirling gowns and vibrant music disguising the absence of its new High Lord and his lady. Most were too engrossed in their conversations, drinks, or dances to notice that Eris and you had slipped away, though the inner circle, seated near the grand doors, had kept an eye on the evening’s events with quiet curiosity.

Feyre, lounging at the table beside Rhysand, tilted her head toward the doorway, her brows furrowing. “Do you see that?” she murmured, her voice low but sharp enough to catch her companions’ attention.

Cassian, who had been nursing his drink, looked up and followed her gaze. Near the doorway, a small figure stood hesitantly, his auburn hair glinting in the flickering light of the chandeliers. His clothes were finely made but slightly rumpled, as if he’d been running or hiding.

“That’s a child,” Mor said, her tone incredulous. “What in the Mother’s name is a child doing here? This isn’t exactly a family gathering.”

Azriel’s shadows curled tighter around him as he observed the boy. “He’s too young to be here alone,” he said quietly. “Someone should—”

Before he could finish, Feyre gestured toward Lucien, who was standing nearby. “Lucien,” she called, her voice cutting across the noise. “Come here for a moment.”

Lucien approached, his gaze sharp as he followed their pointed looks toward the boy. The moment he saw him, his body stiffened, his eyes widening in recognition. “Azer?” he muttered under his breath before suddenly striding forward.

The inner circle exchanged puzzled glances as they watched Lucien kneel in front of the boy, his expression softening as he gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Azer,” Lucien said, his tone both firm and kind. “What are you doing here, little one? Where’s your sitter?”

The boy’s wide, teary eyes looked up at him, his lower lip trembling. “There was… a fire in my room,” Azer hiccupped, his voice high and distressed. “She told me to step away.”

Lucien’s jaw tightened. “A fire?”

Azer nodded, tears spilling down his cheeks. “I—I made a spark, Uncle Lucien,” he confessed, his tiny voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to! I didn’t know I could do that.”

The revelation hit Lucien hard, but he quickly scooped the boy into his arms, holding him close as Azer began to sob in earnest. “Shh, little fox,” he murmured, trying to calm him. “It’s okay. You’re not in trouble.”

“Where’s Mama? Dada?” Azer cried, his small hands clutching at Lucien’s tunic.

Lucien’s heart clenched at the desperate plea, but his focus remained on soothing the boy. He turned back toward the inner circle, carrying Azer with a protective arm around him.

As he approached, the group’s expressions ranged from confusion to shock. Feyre, in particular, seemed stunned. “That’s—” she started, her gaze darting between Azer and Lucien. “Is he…?”

Lucien didn’t meet her eyes. “Yes,” he said shortly. “This is Azer. Eris and Y/N’s son.”

The table fell silent, the revelation striking like a thunderclap.

Cassian was the first to break the silence. “Wait, Eris has a kid? And no one told us?”

Mor blinked, her mouth opening and closing as if trying to find words. “How… when…?”

Before anyone could press further, Alev appeared, his expression one of mild alarm as he approached the group. “What’s going on?” he asked, his gaze flicking to Azer.

Lucien, his tone sharp, said, “Azer lit a spark in his room. It’s his first time using his powers.”

Alev’s face paled, his hand instinctively running through his hair. “Oh, cauldron,” he muttered. “This might be my fault. I told him a story earlier—about how I accidentally set your curtains on fire. He must’ve…”

Lucien’s glare was deadly. “You what?”

Azer hiccupped, his small body trembling in Lucien’s arms. “I didn’t mean to,” he sobbed, his face buried in Lucien’s shoulder. “I just wanted to see if I could make a spark like Uncle Alev.”

Alev looked stricken, his guilt plain as he reached out to touch Azer’s back. “Little fox, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for you to try that.”

The inner circle exchanged stunned glances, their earlier judgments of Eris and you now tempered by the sight of the distraught child.

Rhysand, always the calmest, leaned back in his chair and said quietly, “Well, this certainly explains a few things.”

“It explains everything,” Feyre added softly, her gaze lingering on Azer, who clung to Lucien as though his life depended on it.

Cassian let out a low whistle, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his chair. “So, not only does Eris have a kid, but he’s been hiding him? Makes you wonder what else he’s keeping secret.”

“More like why he hid him,” Mor added, her voice laced with sharpness. “If he was so proud of his son, why wouldn’t he—”

“Enough,” Lucien snapped, his voice cutting through their remarks like a blade.

The group stilled, turning to face him. Lucien’s expression was uncharacteristically hard, his russet eye blazing with anger while his mechanical one whirred faintly as it focused on each of them. Azer, still clinging to him, hiccupped softly, his tiny hands fisting in Lucien’s tunic.

“You can say what you want about me,” Lucien began, his voice low and fierce. “And you can say what you want about Eris. But you will not speak of Azer like he’s some kind of scandal to be dissected.”

“Lucien—” Feyre started, but he cut her off with a glare.

“No,” he said firmly. “You don’t understand. Azer wasn’t hidden because Eris wasn’t proud of him. He was hidden because he was born during Beron’s rule.”

The air in the room seemed to grow heavier at the mention of Beron, the former High Lord of Autumn whose cruelty was well-known.

“If Beron had known Azer existed,” Lucien continued, his voice shaking with restrained fury, “he wouldn’t have lived to see his first birthday. Eris and Y/N kept him hidden to protect him, not because they were ashamed.”

Mor’s expression softened slightly, but her tone remained skeptical. “I’m not saying they didn’t have reasons, Lucien. But keeping a child secret for years—”

“You don’t get to judge them,” Lucien bit out, his tone sharp. “You have no idea what it was like in this court. What it took to survive, let alone to keep a child safe.” He adjusted Azer in his arms, his hold protective. “Azer is not to be a topic on your tongues. Not now, not ever.”

Azriel, who had been silent until now, leaned forward slightly, his shadows curling tighter around him. “We weren’t trying to judge the child,” he said carefully. “But it’s… surprising. That’s all.”

Lucien’s gaze narrowed, but he nodded curtly. “Surprising or not, Azer is off-limits. I don’t care what you think of me or Eris, but you will leave him out of it. He’s innocent in all of this.”

The inner circle exchanged glances, a mixture of unease and understanding passing between them. Rhysand finally spoke, his tone measured. “Fair enough, Lucien. We’ll respect your wishes.”

Lucien’s shoulders relaxed marginally, but the fire in his gaze didn’t fade. “Good. Because Azer isn’t just Eris’s son. He’s my nephew. And I won’t let anyone treat him like he’s some kind of stain on our family.”

Azer whimpered softly, his little voice breaking through the tense silence. “I want Mama and Dada.”

Lucien’s expression softened immediately, and he pressed a kiss to the boy’s rain-damp hair. “I know, little fox,” he murmured. “We’ll find them soon.”

For the first time, the inner circle seemed to see Azer not as a symbol of Eris’s secrets but as a scared, vulnerable child. And in that moment, no one dared say another word.

Alev came rushing back into the ballroom, his normally composed expression frazzled as his eyes scanned the crowd. His coat was slightly askew, his hair damp from the rain outside.

“I’ve looked everywhere,” he said breathlessly, his voice tight with frustration as he approached Lucien and the inner circle. “I can’t find Eris or Y/N anywhere.”

Lucien’s jaw tightened as he shifted Azer, still rocking the boy gently in his arms. Azer clung to him, his tiny fingers fisting in Lucien’s tunic, his sobs quieter now but no less heart-wrenching.

“Keep your voice down,” Lucien hissed, glancing around to ensure no one else overheard.

“They’re probably somewhere in the gardens,” Alev muttered, running a hand through his hair. “But it’s pouring out there, and they’re not answering any of the usual signals.”

Before Lucien could respond, a soft but firm voice interrupted. “Azer? What are you doing down here?”

Everyone turned to see Lady Arlene, her elegant figure framed by the light from the grand chandeliers. She moved with a regal grace, her auburn hair swept up, her amber eyes sharp but filled with concern. Helion followed closely behind her, his expression curious as his golden gaze flicked to Azer.

“Mother,” Lucien said, his voice heavy with relief.

Arlene’s eyes widened when they fell on her grandson, who was still trembling in Lucien’s arms. Her expression softened instantly as she stepped closer, her skirts brushing the floor. “What happened?” she asked, her voice gentle as she reached out to stroke Azer’s hair.

Lucien sighed, his grip on Azer tightening protectively. “There was a fire in his room,” he explained, keeping his voice low. “He… lit a spark. For the first time.”

Arlene froze, her hand stilling against Azer’s curls. “A fire?” she repeated, her tone laced with both shock and understanding. “Oh, my little firefox.”

Azer sniffled, lifting his tear-streaked face to look at her. “I didn’t mean to, Grandmama,” he whimpered. “I just wanted to try like Uncle Alev said.”

Alev visibly winced, muttering, “I really shouldn’t have told him that story.”

Arlene shot him a pointed look but said nothing, focusing instead on her grandson. “It’s alright, sweetheart,” she murmured, her voice soothing. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Powers like yours can be tricky at first.”

Helion stepped forward then, his golden armour glinting in the light. His expression was equal parts curiosity and pride as he looked at Azer. “First sparks, hmm?” he said, his voice warm and deep. “A sign of strength, little one. Nothing to fear.”

Azer sniffled again, his big, teary eyes meeting Helion’s. “But I scared my babysitter. And I couldn’t find Mama and Dada.”

Lucien tightened his hold, rocking Azer gently. “They’ll be back soon,” he promised. “You’re safe now.”

Arlene exchanged a glance with Helion, her lips pressing into a thin line. “I’ll go find them,” she said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Helion nodded, placing a reassuring hand on her arm. “I’ll come with you.”

As they turned to leave, Arlene glanced back at Azer, her expression softening once more. “Stay with your uncle, little fox. I’ll bring your parents back to you.”

Azer nodded weakly, his head resting against Lucien’s shoulder. The boy was exhausted, his earlier sobs having worn him out, but the occasional hiccup still shook his small frame.

The inner circle watched the exchange in silence, a mix of emotions flickering across their faces. Feyre’s gaze lingered on Azer, her expression unreadable, while Cassian and Mor exchanged wary looks. Rhysand leaned back in his chair, his eyes sharp as they followed Arlene and Helion’s retreating forms.

Lucien finally broke the silence, his voice low and firm. “Say what you want about Eris and me, but Azer isn’t up for discussion, I said it more than once but I'll say it again. Not tonight, not ever. He’s a child—a good child—and he deserves better than to be the subject of your scrutiny.”

Feyre nodded slowly, her tone soft as she said, “You’re right. He doesn’t deserve that.”

Lucien’s shoulders relaxed slightly, though the fire in his gaze didn’t dim. He glanced down at Azer, his voice softening as he murmured, “You’re safe, little fox. Your parents will be here soon.”

As the room settled into a tense quiet, Azer stirred in Lucien’s arms, his hiccups subsiding into soft breaths. He sniffled, his small hands clutching at Lucien’s tunic as he lifted his tear-streaked face. His wide, amber eyes—so much like his father’s—scanned the room, landing on Cassian, Azriel, and Rhysand.

Azer blinked, his curiosity breaking through the haze of his earlier tears. “Why do they have wings?” he asked, his voice small but clear as he pointed a tiny finger toward the three Illyrians.

The question caught everyone off guard, and for a moment, the tension in the room softened. Cassian exchanged a glance with Azriel, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“We were born with them,” Cassian said, leaning back in his chair and giving his wings an exaggerated stretch. “They’re part of being Illyrian.”

Azer tilted his head, his small brows furrowing in confusion. “What’s an Illyrian?”

“They’re warriors,” Lucien explained gently, his tone patient. “They come from a different part of the Night Court.”

Azer’s eyes grew even wider as he looked back at the three males. “Warriors? Like Dada?”

Azriel’s lips twitched in what might have been a smile, though his shadows curled tighter around him. “Something like that,” he said quietly.

Cassian chuckled, his grin widening. “I bet we could teach you a thing or two about being a warrior, little one.”

Lucien shot him a sharp look. “He’s three, Cassian. Let’s not give him ideas.”

Azer ignored the exchange, his attention fixated on Rhysand now. “Can I have wings too?”

Rhysand, who had been watching the interaction with quiet amusement, leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. “I don’t think wings are something you can grow, little one,” he said, his tone light. “But you don’t need them to be strong. You’ve got fire in your veins, just like your father.”

Azer’s face scrunched up as he considered this, then turned back to Lucien. “But wings would be fun,” he insisted, his small voice earnest.

Lucien sighed, a soft chuckle escaping him despite himself. “You’ll have to make do without them, little fox.”

The inner circle exchanged subtle glances, their earlier wariness giving way to quiet intrigue as they observed the boy’s innocent curiosity. For a moment, the weight of secrets and past grievances seemed to lift, replaced by the simple wonder of a child discovering the world around him.

Azer’s gaze lingered on the Illyrians for a moment longer before he nestled back into Lucien’s shoulder, his tiny voice murmuring, “Maybe one day…”

Lucien smiled softly, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Maybe one day,” he agreed, his voice filled with quiet affection.

The tension in the room only deepened when Lady Arlene, Helion, and Alev returned, their faces marked with worry. Alev’s hair was even more dishevelled than before, and both Arlene and Helion looked like they had braved the worsening storm outside.

“No sign of them,” Arlene announced, her voice tight as she approached Lucien and Azer. “The gardens are sprawling, and the rain is turning into a storm. They could be anywhere.”

Helion placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, though his own concern was evident. “They’re clever. They’ll be fine. But we should keep searching.”

Azer, still in Lucien’s arms, babbled softly to himself, seemingly unaware of the adults’ growing unease. His little voice carried a mix of words and toddler gibberish, his fingers playing with the collar of Lucien’s tunic. His eyes, though still red-rimmed from crying, were wide with curiosity as he noticed the way Azriel’s shadows danced around him.

“’Shadows,” Azer murmured, his small hand stretching out toward the wisps of darkness that curled and swirled around Azriel like living things. “Wanna play.”

Azriel glanced down at the boy, his expression unreadable. His shadows seemed to hesitate for a moment before one daring tendril crept closer, teasingly twirling around Azer’s outstretched fingers.

Azer giggled softly, the sound tinged with sniffles as he tried to grab at the shadow. “Gotcha!” he exclaimed, his toddler speech slightly garbled. “No… no run!”

Azriel allowed a rare, faint smile to tug at the corner of his lips as his shadow darted away, only to circle back and flick at Azer’s tiny fingers.

Lucien sighed, adjusting Azer in his arms as he watched the interaction. “Don’t encourage him, Azriel,” he muttered, though his tone lacked any real bite.

“I’m not doing anything,” Azriel replied smoothly, though there was a flicker of amusement in his voice.

Azer giggled again, distracted from the earlier upset as he babbled nonsense words to the shadow, his sniffles gradually fading. The storm outside intensified, the sound of rain pounding against the grand windows of the ballroom filling the room.

Arlene stepped closer, her hand brushing over Azer’s curls. “We need to find them,” she said softly, her worry now etched plainly on her face.

Helion nodded, his gaze moving toward the doors. “They can’t have gone far, even with the storm. We’ll keep searching.”

Alev, standing nearby, hesitated before adding, “I’ll check the garden pathways again. Maybe they found cover somewhere.”

As the adults strategized, Azer turned his attention back to Azriel’s shadows, a tiny smile breaking through his lingering tears. His little hand swiped through the air again as he mumbled, “Come back, shadow. No hide!”

The sight of the toddler’s innocent determination seemed to soften even the tension between the inner circle and the Vanserras, at least for a moment. But the storm outside raged on, a reminder that the ones they were all looking for were still nowhere to be found.

-----

The storm had turned the garden into a shimmering maze, the rain coming down in heavy sheets that drenched everything in its path. You ran through it, your laughter ringing out despite the chaos, your hand clasped tightly in Eris’s. The muddy ground squelched beneath your feet, and your gown, once pristine, clung to your body, the fabric soaked through.

Eris, his hair plastered to his forehead, glanced back at you, his golden eyes alight with amusement even as the rain poured down around you both. “You’re going to ruin that dress,” he teased, though his own immaculate attire wasn’t faring much better.

“Better the dress than my ankles!” you shot back, already fumbling to pull off your soaked shoes. The delicate heels were no match for the slippery garden paths, and you nearly tripped as you tugged them free.

Eris caught you before you could fall, his strong hands steadying you as he grinned. “Careful, love. I’d hate for you to twist an ankle before our grand re-entrance.”

You laughed breathlessly, finally kicking the shoes off and tossing them onto the wet grass. “I think it’s a little late for grand, don’t you?”

Eris raised a brow, clearly unbothered by the state of your dishevelled appearance. “You forget who you’re with.” His voice was low, teasing, and entirely too self-assured as he pulled you closer. “I can make anything grand.”

Rolling your eyes, you tugged him forward, your bare feet splashing through puddles as you both ran toward the faint glow of the ballroom ahead. The rain was relentless, but it only added to the thrill of the moment, each step a mix of wild abandon and shared laughter.

As you reached the edge of the gardens, the sound of music from the ballroom grew louder, mingling with the rhythm of the rain. You paused for a moment under the partial cover of a sprawling oak tree, catching your breath as Eris leaned down, his hands braced on his knees.

“You know,” you panted, brushing wet strands of hair from your face, “we probably look ridiculous.”

Eris straightened, his golden eyes gleaming despite the storm. “We look like royalty,” he said smugly, though the grin tugging at his lips betrayed his amusement. “Just… slightly soggier than usual.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you grabbed his hand again. “Come on, Your Highness. Let’s get back inside before they send a search party.”

As you reached the edge of the gardens, the rain pelting down harder than ever, Eris tugged you back beneath the shelter of a sprawling oak tree. His golden eyes glimmered with mischief as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

“Do we really have to go back inside?” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, barely audible over the storm. “The ballroom’s full of people I’d rather avoid… and you’re far more interesting.”

Before you could respond, his lips found yours, warm and insistent despite the chill of the rain soaking through both your clothes. His hand slid up your back, fingers tangling in your damp hair as he kissed you with a fervour that made you momentarily forget the storm raging around you.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breathing uneven. “Why don’t we just stay out here?” he suggested, his tone teasing but his intent unmistakable. “The rain, the grass… It’s far better than listening to advisors drone on or exchanging pleasantries with people who don’t matter.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, though your teeth chattered from the cold. “Eris, it’s freezing, and we’re both covered in muck. Look at us!”

He glanced down, his shirt clinging to his chest and the once-immaculate fabric smeared with dirt. His boots were caked with mud, and your gown was a waterlogged mess. He grinned, utterly unbothered. “We’ve looked worse. And I still think you’re stunning.”

You swatted at his chest, though it lacked any real force. “As flattering as that is, I’m not about to let my teeth chatter out of my skull just to indulge you.”

Eris sighed dramatically, though his grin remained. “You ruin all my fun, you know that?”

You arched a brow, stepping back and tugging him toward the glowing lights of the ballroom. “Come on, High Lord. Let’s go before the muck starts seeping into places it shouldn’t.”

Eris followed reluctantly, though his hand remained firmly clasped in yours. “Fine,” he said, his tone half playful, half resigned. “But don’t think for a second that I’m done with you tonight.”

You rolled your eyes, your heart still pounding from the intensity of his kiss. “You’re insatiable,” you muttered, though the warmth in your chest betrayed how much you loved it.

“And you’re freezing,” he shot back with a smirk. “Let’s get you inside before you catch cold.”

The grand ballroom was alive with music and chatter as you and Eris entered, soaked from the rain and slightly dishevelled. The golden chandeliers cast a warm glow over the room, a stark contrast to the storm still raging outside. Water dripped from the hem of your dress, forming a small trail as you both walked further in. You reached up to smooth your hair, hoping to appear somewhat presentable, but Eris was already scanning the room, his sharp eyes cutting through the crowd.

It was then that his entire demeanour shifted. His gaze landed on Lucien, seated at a table near the far side of the ballroom, cradling a familiar bundle in his arms. Eris froze for a fraction of a second, his shoulders tensing before he took off in a sprint, leaving you to trail behind him, startled.

The inner circle, seated with Lucien and Azer, noticed Eris immediately. Cassian leaned back in his chair, exchanging a look with Rhysand and Feyre. They’d spent the past hour piecing together the puzzle of the little boy, thanks to Lucien’s quiet but firm explanation, but now they were about to witness the truth first-hand.

Eris reached Lucien in moments, his golden eyes darting over Azer’s tear-streaked face. Azer was clutching Lucien’s tunic with trembling fingers, his breaths coming in quick hiccups as his wide amber eyes filled with tears.

“Dada!” Azer cried out, reaching for Eris with both arms. His voice cracked with the effort, his small body shaking as his emotions overwhelmed him.

Eris immediately knelt, his hands steady as he took Azer from Lucien’s arms. “Shh, little firefox,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing despite the storm of worry in his gaze. “I’m here. Dada’s here.”

Azer buried his face in Eris’s soaked chest, sobbing uncontrollably. His little fists clutched at Eris’s tunic, his cries muffled but heart-wrenching. The room seemed to shrink as the High Lord of Autumn cradled his son, his usual composed mask cracking just enough for those closest to see.

Lucien stood, his expression grim as he addressed Eris. “There was a fire,” he explained quietly, his voice laced with both worry and frustration. “The babysitter told him to step away, but… Azer lit the spark. His powers manifested for the first time.”

Eris’s jaw tightened, his pride momentarily overshadowed by the need to comfort his son. “He’s alright?” he asked, his voice steady but low.

“He’s fine,” Lucien assured him. “Just shaken. And terrified.”

Eris closed his eyes for a moment, pressing a kiss to Azer’s curls. “It’s okay, little one,” he whispered. “You’re safe now. You’re so brave.”

Azer tried to speak, but his words came out in broken sobs. “D-Dada… fire… I—”

“Shh,” Eris soothed, rubbing small circles on Azer’s back. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You’re just like me, aren’t you? Full of fire.”

The pride in his voice was subtle, carefully masked by his fatherly concern, but those who knew him well could hear it. Cassian and Azriel, who had been quietly observing, exchanged a glance before stepping forward.

“You’ll soak him through,” Azriel said, his voice calm as he shrugged off his jacket. Cassian did the same, handing theirs to Eris.

“Wrap him in these,” Cassian added, his tone unusually soft.

Eris hesitated for a moment, his pride warring with practicality, before taking the jackets and wrapping them around Azer’s trembling form. The little boy clung to him, his cries quieting to soft hiccups as the warmth of the jackets and his father’s presence surrounded him.

The inner circle continued to watch, their expressions ranging from surprise to quiet understanding. This was not the cold, calculating High Lord they had expected. This was a father—protective, proud, and deeply devoted to his son.

Rhysand leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful as he observed Eris murmuring soft reassurances to Azer. “I never thought I’d see the day,” he said quietly, his voice just loud enough for Feyre to hear.

Feyre glanced at him, her lips curving into a faint smile. “There’s more to him than we realized,” she said.

“Clearly,” Rhysand replied, watching as Eris stood, cradling Azer close as if shielding him from the world.

The moment you spotted Eris standing with Azer wrapped in the jackets, your heart clenched. You ran toward them, your bare feet still damp from the rain, your gown dragging slightly behind you. The sight of your little boy nestled against his father, his tear-streaked face peeking out from the folds of fabric, was enough to quicken your pace.

As you reached them, you instinctively placed a hand on Eris’s arm, your gaze immediately falling to Azer. “What happened? Is he okay?” you asked breathlessly, brushing damp curls from your son’s forehead.

“He’s fine,” Eris assured you softly, his golden eyes meeting yours. “Just a little shaken. He—”

Lucien cleared his throat, stepping forward. “I’ll explain later,” he said, his voice low but steady. “He’s alright now, though.”

It was then you noticed the table behind them, where a group of unfamiliar faces watched the interaction with curious and calculating eyes. You quickly straightened, smoothing your sodden dress as best you could.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” you said, addressing the group with a polite smile despite your racing heart. “I’m Y/N, Eris’s wife. Thank you for… for helping with Azer. It means more than you know.”

The High Lady of Night Court—Feyre, you recognized her from Eris’s descriptions—was the first to speak. She stood, her expression warm and welcoming. “It’s lovely to meet you, Y/N,” she said. “You have a beautiful family.”

You smiled, a touch nervously, as the others introduced themselves: Rhysand, Azriel, Cassian, and Mor. Their gazes flicked between you, Eris, and Azer, a mix of curiosity and guarded interest in their eyes.

Azer squirmed slightly in Eris’s arms, his small hand reaching out for you. “Mama,” he mumbled, his voice still thick from crying.

You took him gently, cradling him close as he rested his head on your shoulder. His little body relaxed almost immediately in your embrace, though his pout remained firmly in place.

“This is a boring ball,” he mumbled, his tone disgruntled.

The room went silent for a beat before laughter rippled through the group. Even Eris let out a low chuckle, his hand resting on your back as you shook your head, biting back a smile.

“Well,” you said, kissing the top of Azer’s head, “he’s not wrong.”

Cassian grinned, leaning back in his chair. “I like this kid,” he said, earning a glare from Eris that only made him smirk wider.

Azer peeked up from your shoulder, his amber eyes still wet but curious as they scanned the group. He gave a little sniffle, then buried his face back against you with a contented sigh.

“Thank you,” you said again, your voice softer now as you looked at the group. “For everything.”

Feyre smiled warmly. “He’s lucky to have you both.”

You nodded, your heart swelling as you looked down at Azer. Despite the chaos of the night, everything felt a little more steady now with him in your arms.

[idkyetxoxo]

Two | A Flicker Between | Fire and Ice

Pairing - Eris Vanserra x reader

Word count - 2.6k

Warnings - None

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Tarquin always threw the best celebrations.

Not just for the sake of extravagance but because there was a kind of joy in Summer that felt effortless. Honest. 

The air shimmered with music and magic, salt clinging to warm skin like a second breath. Lanterns danced along the breeze above the courtyard, trailing light across the sand-polished stone like stars pulled from the sky itself.

Summer Court wasn't just a place I visited. It was a haven. A reminder that not all courts were built on secrets and scars.

Tarquin had always welcomed me openly, but it was his cousin and his commander, Cressida and Varian who had become something like family over the years. 

Irreverent, infuriating, and beloved.

Which is why I now sat in a sun-drenched chamber, reluctantly allowing Cressida to thread pearls into my hair like I was some gilded offering.

"I can't believe I let you do this," I muttered, fidgeting with the hem of my robe as she fussed over a wayward strand near my temple.

"The minute you sat down and offered yourself up," Varian drawled from a chaise across the room, "you signed your own doom."

His eyes gleamed with wicked amusement. I sent him a look that promised icy revenge.

Cressida bared her teeth in a grin, the very picture of smug satisfaction. "She'll thank me later. She always does."

"You always say that," I grumbled.

She ignored me, her fingers moving with elegant precision. With a final twist, she secured the last pearl in my hair and stepped back with a triumphant nod.

"Wait until you see the dress," she said, practically vibrating with glee. A snap of her fingers summoned a delicate bundle of white fabric into her arms.

I blinked. "Where's the rest of it?"

"This is the dress." She held it up with a flourish, and my stomach dropped.

It was barely a whisper of fabric, gossamer-thin, shimmering like sunlight on water, with embroidered vines spiralling over the bodice and trailing off into illusion. 

Ethereal. Daring. Everything I did not tend to wear.

"This is the Summer Court, snowflake," she said sweetly, shoving me behind the changing screen. "If you wear your usual winter layers, you'll melt into a puddle before the first dance."

"You used to glare at me in contempt," I hissed as she yanked at the back of the dress, tugging the delicate fabric into place. "I liked that version of you."

"No you didn't," she said cheerfully. "Now hold still."

By the time she was finished, I wasn't sure if I felt regal or like a sacrificial lamb. She twirled me once and gave an approving hum before practically dragging me out into the hallway, Varian trailing behind in amusement.

The celebration was in full swing by the time we descended the main staircase into the grand hall.

Laughter and music flowed like wine itself, glasses glittered in hands, golden light glinting off jewellery and skin. The scent of jasmine floated on the breeze, the sea just beyond the open archways humming like a lullaby beneath the festivities.

I made my way through the crowd, nodding to familiar faces, trading greetings and the occasional quick embrace. 

My eyes scanned instinctively for Viviane, her white hair easy to spot even in the throng, and beside her stood Mor radiant in red silk and already holding a half-empty glass of something strong.

Just as I raised my hand to wave I saw him.

A flash of deep red. Rich, burnished bronze like the last leaf before autumn dies. Eris.

My step faltered. He was standing on the far edge of the room, speaking to no one. Just watching. Amber eyes catching mine like they always seemed to, like they'd been waiting for me to look in that direction.

There it was again. That pause. That strange stillness. 

The world went quiet except for the beat of my heart, pounding far too loud in my ears. For a heartbeat, I forgot to breathe.

And then Viviane gasped nearby.

"Oh, look at you!" she squealed, pulling me into a warm, fragrant hug before I could fake a swoon or bolt for the nearest terrace.

I barely managed to hold my balance, my gown whispering around my legs like sea-foam caught in the wind.

"Cressida wrestled me into submission," I muttered, adjusting the delicate sleeve that had slipped down my arm again. 

The dress was made of light and madness—barely there, all shimmer and skin and scandal.

"She does good work," Mor purred, stepping in to kiss my cheek. She gave me a slow, approving once-over. "Remind me to let her dress me next time."

"I'm going to melt," I grumbled.

"You look like a goddess," Viviane said firmly, clasping my hands. "If a goddess could kill a man with a smile."

"I'm trying very hard not to."

"That's the spirit." Her eyes gleamed with mischief and danger. Never a good combination on Viviane. "Now, we must find you someone to dance with."

"No, we really don't—" I began, already scanning for an escape route.

"Oooh, what about the Night Court's spymaster?" she said, far too delighted with herself. "Tall, dark, and broody. Exactly your type."

"I don't have a—Viviane, no—"

But it was too late. My pleading glance to Mor was returned with a wicked cackle as she lifted a hand and waved him over. 

Azriel, shadows and all, approached in silent, graceful strides like he'd been waiting for an excuse to come this way.

"Hi, Azriel," Viviane cooed. "My very pretty sister-in-law here is just dying to dance, but Mor and I need to talk about something terribly important—life and death, really—so..."

"Viv," I hissed, glaring daggers. She just smiled sweetly.

Azriel, ever unreadable, inclined his head to both of us. "I'd be honoured," he said, his voice quiet as velvet, as if I were a mission to complete—not a reluctant, half-dressed female trying not to combust from embarrassment.

And then his hand found mine, gloved, cool, steady and I was being swept onto the dance floor.

The music wrapped around us like smoke, a sultry rhythm that pulsed beneath our feet as we moved in smooth, practised steps.

"I'm sorry," I said, not quite meeting his eyes. "Viv is a busybody who's made it her personal mission to torture me."

He chuckled, a low, surprised sound. "Don't apologise. I quite like dancing. May seem unbelievable, but it's true."

"That is unbelievable," I said, lips quirking despite myself.

He spun me gently, and when I turned back toward him—my eyes caught a pair of others.

Amber. Bright. Burning. 

Eris. Leaning against a marble column like sin made flesh, watching us with that familiar, unreadable expression. 

Except tonight... it wasn't unreadable. Tonight it was sharp. Ferocious. Jealous.

The look in his eyes pinned me in place even as Azriel's arms pulled me close again, one gloved hand skimming along my bare back like a ghost of warmth.

I shivered—not from the contact but from the heat radiating from across the room. From the fire in those amber eyes that hadn't left me since I stepped into the hall.

Azriel dipped his head slightly. "Are you cold?"

"No," I said too quickly. "No, I—" My voice faltered.

Azriel was kind. Steady. But when I looked up into his hazel eyes, I searched for that spark—that impossible pull I hated myself for wanting and felt... nothing.

No flicker. No fire. Only the comfort of a shadow used to the dark.

His gaze dropped, instinctively, briefly, to my chest. He caught himself, cleared his throat, and looked away just as I did the same.

"I didn't mean—" he began.

"Please don't presume—" I started.

We both laughed, spinning once more, letting the tension dissolve into something light, almost fond.

"You're a good dancer," I admitted.

He tilted his head. "You're a better liar."

I huffed a laugh. "True."

He paused, then nodded toward Viviane and Mor, who were now whispering and watching us like hawks.

"She means well," he said. "But love... it's a cruel, curious thing. Not something to be arranged."

My gaze followed his, toward a certain golden-haired female in red across the hall, laughing softly.

I looked back at him, my heart a little heavier for it. "You deserve someone who sets your shadows at ease."

He smiled, faint and sad. "And you deserve someone who makes your winter burn."

The song ended shortly after and I rose on my toes kissing his cheek, just above the line of his scar. "Thank you for the dance."

He bowed his head in farewell, and I slipped away—my heart a quiet storm beneath my ribs.

Behind me, I could still feel it. That amber gaze. That fire. Waiting. Burning. Watching me go.

Eris's POV - 

Fate was often cruelly unfair.

I felt the fire in my veins threaten to scorch everything around me as I watched her dance with Azriel, silent shadow of muscle and grace, a man made of steel and secrets.

She was breathtaking. Impossibly so.

White silk clinging to her like a second skin, daring and delicate all at once. Pearls woven through her hair caught the light with every subtle turn, sparkling like frozen stars caught in the moonlight. 

She moved with the grace of water, fluid, poised, mesmerising but she danced with him.

From the moment she entered the hall, I tracked her like a predator marked by fate. Through crowded rooms alive with laughter and heat, she floated with ease. 

Kind. Well-liked. Fierce beneath her calm. Far too good for someone like me.

Still, I followed. My heart betrayed me, racing, thrumming, drawn to the scent of pine and lavender that clung to her like a whispered promise.

I found her later, away from the throng—seated on the palace's stone steps, her feet dipped lazily into the shallow water that lapped against the marble like a soft breath from the sea.

The moonlight kissed her skin, luminous, casting shadows beneath her lashes.

I couldn't stop myself. "All worn out from dancing with others?" I muttered before I could choke the words back.

She turned, eyes narrowing slightly, amused. "Were you watching me?"

"Maybe," I said, lowering myself to sit beside her on the cold stone, the splash of water cooling my boots.

She arched a brow. "I'm flattered."

I let a slow smile curl at the corner of my lips. "Your dress... not what I expected."

She smirked, fingers trailing absentmindedly through the water. "I like to adapt."

"Adapt," I echoed, "to survive the heat of Summer, to charm the court that's both poison and refuge."

She glanced at me, the faintest flicker of challenge in her eyes. "And you? Do you always wear your armour so well, or is it just around me?"

I let the words hang in the air, thick and warm. "Only when you're near," I admitted softly, my voice dropping like embers that threaten to ignite everything.

She laughed, a sound brittle and sharp sound like ice cracking underfoot on a frozen lake. It sent a shiver through me, not from cold but from the electricity buzzing between us.

"Don't flatter yourself," she said, the edge in her tone teasing but clear. "I'm not that easy."

I smiled, the barest curve of my lips betraying the storm beneath. "Good. Because I don't intend to make it easy."

The water rippled between us, but the space felt smaller, closer, as if the night itself held its breath.

Her eyes locked onto mine, and I could see the flicker of something raw beneath the cool facade, something wild, fierce, and just as dangerous as the flames I carried inside me. 

For a long moment, we both said nothing. Our breaths mingled in the cool night air, heavy and uneven. She tilted her head, studying me like I was a riddle she couldn't quite solve. 

"You don't say much for someone who so easily disrupts a room," she murmured.

"Words are wasted when silence can speak louder," I replied, stepping just a fraction closer, feeling the heat of her just beyond reach.

She didn't pull away. Instead, she shifted slightly, the moonlight tracing the delicate curve of her jaw, the sharp line of her cheekbone.

The tension wrapped tighter around us, coiling like a spring ready to snap.

And then, without warning, our eyes flicked down, then back up, and the unspoken fractured.

I reached for her, fingers threading through the pearls in her hair, drawing her close until the heat of her skin was searing against mine.

Her breath hitched.

Then lips met, fierce, hungry, starved. It wasn't a kiss, it was a breaking point. A storm finally unleashed. 

I didn't just want her. I needed her. Needed the taste of her, the feel of her, like oxygen, like salvation.

My hands found her, desperate, clutching, like if I let go now, she'd disappear. My fingers traced her skin like I was memorising her—every line, every heat-soaked inch. 

I couldn't stop. Didn't want to.

Our tongues collided, tangled, not dancing but battling, frenzied and breathless. There was nothing soft in it—just want. Just her. 

Every second our mouths were apart felt like a wound being torn open.

Her nails dragged down my back, sharp and grounding, and I leaned into it—into her chasing more, always more. 

She pulled me in like she was trying to fuse us, like even this wasn't close enough.

We moved like we'd been dying without each other. Like time had bent itself around the ache of missing her. 

Every second apart felt like punishment. Every second touching her felt like coming alive.

The cold that usually defined her melted away beneath the fire we ignited. For one stolen moment, the court, the politics, the danger—all of it faded into nothing but the fierce beating of two hearts igniting in the dark.

When we finally pulled apart, breathless and trembling, her eyes locked onto mine. Fierce. Consuming. Unrelenting.

I could still feel her everywhere. Still taste her on my tongue. Still need her in my bones.

And then—silence. The kind that was deafening in its weight.

Our chests rose and fell in unsteady rhythm, lips swollen, breaths mingling between us. Her hands still clutched my tunic, my fingers tangled in her hair, the pearls now askew and gleaming like casualties of war.

But the high of it, the hunger, the heat, it cracked, ever so slightly. And in that crack, reality came rushing back in like a cold wind.

Her lips parted, but no sound came. Her eyes searched mine, looking for something—denial, reassurance, explanation. 

I didn't have any of it. I only had the truth, and that, in this moment, was too much.

Her expression shifted—just a flicker. 

Something inside her shuttered. She pulled back, only slightly at first, like it physically pained her to create space between us. Her fingers loosened their grip, my name trembling on the edge of her tongue, but never leaving her lips.

Her eyes darted away.

And then she stood. Quick. Sharp. Like standing would save her from what had just occurred.

The moonlight framed her like a blade, her silhouette half wild, half regal as always, only now, she was shaking. Not visibly. Not enough that anyone else would see. But I did.

I saw the tremor in her fingertips as she brushed her dress back into place. I saw the way her lips pressed into a tight line, holding back the avalanche of emotion building behind them.

She turned away from me without a word.

"Wait," I breathed, standing halfway, reaching—

But she shook her head, not looking back. "This shouldn't have happened," she said, voice hoarse, like it scraped its way out of her throat.

My hands dropped to my sides, helpless.

"I didn't mean—" I started, but even I didn't know what I meant. What I was trying to take back. 

The kiss? The fire? The way my chest still ached from the feel of her mouth on mine?

She was already walking away. Fast. Graceful. Gone. The sound of her footsteps faded against the polished stone, leaving only the quiet slosh of water and the echo of what we'd done behind.

And I sat there, heart still hammering in my chest, wondering if that single kiss had just changed everything.

Or ruined it.

A/n - So what if I managed to slip Azriel into this part. Who's going to stop me? Exactly! If I can find a reason to bring him in, I will take it. Every. Single. Time.

Now onto the kiss. It was intense. Desperate. Messy. Exactly how it should be between them. There was never going to be anything soft about them :)

It may seem too soon but like I said in part 1 this is a pre-existing situation. Years of tension. Glances. Snarking. Longing. It's been building. This kiss was a detonation x

Thank you for reading <3

Fire and Ice tag list - @thisfireheart @smol-grandpa @theworthlessqueen @awkardnerd @seasttarr @foreverme123 @historygeekqueen @booksstarryskies

[sweetpeaaquarius]

The Healer - Part 4

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Healer f!reader

POV: Eris

Summary: In the aftermath of war, Eris is haunted by silence, grief, and the weight of everything left unsaid. As the pressure within Autumn builds, a long-awaited message cuts through the quiet, bringing with it a tether of hope he can no longer ignore. Amid guilt, duty, and longing, Eris reaches his limit and finally chooses desire over fear.

Warnings: mentions of blood and battlefield aftermath, hypervigilance, insomnia, emotional detachment, references to physical injuries and past violence, mating bond dynamics, emotional intensity, internalised resistance, power imbalance.

Strong emotional themes: trauma, vulnerability and reluctant intimacy (not sexual)

Word count: 2,620

Series: The Healer - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

The Autumn Palace had never been so cold, not from the weather, Autumn rarely chills.

Instead, it felt colder the heaviness that hung in the carved stone and arched halls like lingering smoke from a long-extinguished fire. The silence now echoed deeply. War had robbed the palace of its fury, its fire, and its heartbeat.

Eris barely slept or ate, simply enduring the slow, splintering pain of survival. 

He faced the heartbreaking task of telling families that their sons, brothers, and fathers wouldn’t return home. 

He endured accusations from comrades, mockery from his brothers, and the sharp disappointment from his father. 

Endurance was a symbol of heirs in Prythian; they measured strength in silence, pride by how much they bled, and worth by how well they tolerated cruelty. 

Eris persisted through all of it. The aftermath of war was even worse than the battlefield itself, with entire battalions lost to ash and memory. Now, their names echoed in the halls, not spoken aloud, but as if the walls mourned silently. Beron filled this silence with rage, blame, and fire that sought only someone to burn.

“You led them into a graveyard,” his father spat days ago, flame licking up his arms like coiled serpents. “And now you expect me to crown a son who can’t even keep his soldiers breathing?”

Eris hadn’t flinched.

He hadn’t replied, not aloud, but the words cut deep, because he had led them to a graveyard that his father had secured.

He had sent them ahead, trusting plans he hadn’t made, ignoring warnings and his better judgment, and they had died for it.

He saw them clearly, their faces, how their bodies crumpled, the smell of scorched skin, and the sensation of death as they were misted before him. Even the enemies’ faces replayed in his mind. They haunted him in ways the living never had.

Yet, he was the heir to Autumn. 

So he endured every sneer, every accusation from the families, every insult dressed as strategy, and every cruel reminder from Beron of the men he’d lost and those who had only survived to suffer in the ruins of Autumn’s pride. He wore the grief like a second skin, said nothing, moved forward, and wore the mask well.

But when the sun dipped behind the mountains and the corridors sank into silence, that stillness turned unbearable.

In those moments, when he asked himself why he hadn’t died beside them, his mind went numb, and he slipped away.

Through the hollow halls of his private wing, past guards who knew better than to speak, into the quiet sanctuary of his suite. Then deeper still, into his office, where the windows overlooked the darkened sprawl of Autumn’s grounds.

Books were scattered across the desk, papers stacked in unsteady towers: war files, casualty reports, and unsigned decrees. Memos marked urgent that he no longer had the heart to read.

But it was the drawer nested beneath it all, sealed with wards more intricate than those protecting the palace itself, that he went to.

Only his magic could open it.

Inside lay the notebook. 

The twin to hers. 

The last piece of her he could still hold.

Usually, he was okay, or at least somewhat twisted into okay, but tonight was worse than usual.

Beron had refused to pay the final wages owed to the grieving families.

It was just coin, a last scrap of dignity for the dead.

“Why would I pay for the fallen?” Beron had said, voice thick with disdain. “They’re no longer useful.”

Eris had argued that these men had given everything, that they had trained, served, and died for Autumn. For Beron.

Beron had waved it off.

As if the dead were already dust. 

As if mourning cost too much.

Now, Eris sat slumped at his desk, surrounded by casualty reports and the stench of failure.

The ink on the pages smudged and stained his fingers.

His coat hung off his shoulders, ashed and wrinkled. 

Hair loose over his brow.

Eyes bloodshot from too many sleepless nights.

He should have been working, focusing. There were still more names to read, more lives to account for. 

His eyes betrayed him, drifting again and again to that drawer. 

To the notebook. To her.

He hadn’t heard from her in days, not since his last reply, and it was driving him to madness.

He checked it obsessively, before and after council meetings.

Between insults hurled across the war table.

After Beron’s punishments left his magic trembling beneath his skin.

Sometimes, he didn’t even notice his hand resting against the drawer’s edge until the tension in his chest eased, soothed by the faint, distant hum of the bond.

He had memorised her last letter.

Every word. Every tremble in her script. The way the ink pooled at the end of her sentences, as if she’d hesitated.

She was unravelling, haunted by the ones she couldn’t save and starving herself for the sake of others. Withering in a court that didn’t see her, didn’t value her, only used what she gave and called it gratitude.

It killed him.

He had almost gone to her, nearly winnowed in the dead of night, ready to cross courts and start a war just to hold her.

Just to hear her breathe, to offer the comfort no one had ever given him, but she hadn’t asked, and he wouldn’t take what wasn’t freely offered. Not from her.

Still, the selfishness clawed at him. He wanted to tell her how much he needed her: her voice, her steady hands, her softness. 

He longed for her to be there beside him, if only to remind him that going through all this still mattered. That the cruelty had a cost worth paying, but with her locked away in the court of restraint and duty, he doubted it.

He doubted everything because, without her, the bond felt like a chain, and he was utterly exhausted from bleeding for a court that only cares about how much he suffers. 

It wasn’t about him. It never was.

So he sat, surrounded by the dead, smothered in ash, ink, and names that would never be spoken again.

Still, his eyes drifted to the drawer.

To that notebook.

To the silence.

As if maybe, just maybe, she’d write.

Tell him she was still alive. Tell him she still thought of him. Tell him he hadn’t been forgotten, either. But there was nothing.

He let his head fall into his palm, and sometime in the thick darkness of night, he fell asleep at his desk, war maps beneath his cheek, grief still inked across his hands.

In the dead silence of night, he sensed it, that flicker of unfamiliar magic.

Cold. Quiet. Unmistakably Night Court.

It crept through the bond like shadows beneath a locked door, slipping beneath his skin.

Eris jolted awake, breath caught in his throat, the ghost of a nightmare still clinging to him, pale, bloodless faces, voices screaming through the wreckage of his mind.

The leather-bound notebook trembled softly in its drawer. The bond pulsed faintly and painfully in his chest. The drawer slid open beneath his palm, and his fingers found the notebook, cool with her magic. 

He opened it, and there, her handwriting appeared across the page in delicate, trembling cursive.

I wasn’t sure if I would write again. I wasn’t sure it would help. The last time you wrote back to me, it was the only night I’ve been able to sleep since coming home from the war, and tonight I need you again.

His chest ached.

I try to remember who I was before all this. I used to love my work, the healing, the helping, the way I could make pain stop, but no one ever warned me what it would feel like afterwards, what it would do to you. The faces, they stay with me. I know you would understand.

He did. Too well.

Her words conjured the same faces that haunted his nights, the ones that never spoke, never blinked, just stared.

The same way they had in death.

His grip tightened on the notebook, magic flickered at his fingertips, not flame, but something quieter. Something aching. 

More and more of the soldiers I brought home are dying. The ones I promised to care for. The ones I told would live. My hands are constantly shaking now. My magic falters like it’s scared, like it already suspects it will fail. They keep calling me strong. The glue. The heart. But I feel like a shadow wearing someone else’s name.

She was unravelling.

I wrote because I thought maybe you’d understand. Sometimes I think you can feel it all through the bond. I’m not sure if you do, but I talk to it anyway.  You probably think I’m mad, talking to silence, to someone who can’t hear me. But just knowing you’re there, that you’re real, is a comfort I never expected. You are my comfort, and I’m sorry for that.

The ink stopped. The last word bled slightly, forming a small pool of hesitation, as if she’d nearly said more. 

Eris didn’t move, didn’t blink, barely breathed.

He tugged on the bond once, gently, needing to feel she was still there.

He read her words again and again. Until he could hear her voice in them.

Then, he wrote back.

He told her he understood, sharing the words he had longed to hear but never did. He wrote about ancient Autumn healing practices: the rituals, the prayers, the sleep charms passed down by priestesses who no longer get visitors.

He wrote about herbs and teas and the way moonstone, left in water overnight, was said to still a restless heart.

He wrote like a lovesick fool, because that’s what he was. 

That’s what he wanted to be.

Not a prince. Not a commander. Not Beron’s heir built of fire, cruelty and expectation.

Just hers.

Soft, if just for her. Unapologetically.

Afterwards, the embarrassment was nearly unbearable. Pages of remedies, too much advice, and an overwhelming amount of feelings and emotions.

He felt foolish and exposed.

A strange resentment grew, not towards her, but at how easily she could draw this softness out of him. A stranger who didn’t quite feel like one, the bond didn’t lie. It was wrapped around his heart, forcing it to beat in sync with hers.

She had undone him, in every way that mattered.

After that night, her letters came sporadically.

Always during the worst of it, at her fraying edges, where the pain grew too loud to bear, and every time, he answered.

She never said she wanted help, but he gave it.

He spent hours on each reply, each word carefully picked like a thread in a tapestry he was weaving just for her. 

Every letter reminded him she was real. That she was brilliant, capable, trying, and with each one, he fell harder.

Not just for her magic, or her mind, but for her humanity, her softness, her tired honesty, her refusal to let herself break completely even when she wanted to.

He was addicted.

To the quiet way she reached for him.

To the way her presence curled through the bond in the dead of night like a whisper against his spine.

To her.

Two months. He endured two months.

By the end, she was writing almost every day, and on the two-month mark since he last saw her, after two months of Beron’s fury, two months of empty corridors and silence, two months of missing her so fiercely, he forgot how to breathe. 

He broke.

Shamelessly.

He begged.

He wrote asking her to come to Autumn.

To leave the Night Court behind.

To come to him.

He told her he needed her.

Asked if she could be his.

Asked if he could keep her.

Even if only in pieces.

The distance is killing me, Eris wrote. Please. I need you.

When he finished, he stared at the words in disbelief.

There was no way Eris Vanserra had written that. No way he’d have laid bare his soul to a mate who still called him a stranger.

His hand trembled. Tears threatened, absurd and shameful, but the fear was real.

The hope was worse.

What had he done? And why, despite everything, did he feel like he might still be saved?

The letter went unanswered.

For a day.

Then two.

Each hour that passed without a reply carved a little deeper into him.

Eris told himself he understood. He convinced himself she was busy, exhausted, haunted by the same war that still haunted him in his sleep. Told himself she didn’t owe him anything, not even a reply, but the bond didn’t understand silence. It pulled towards her like gravity, aching to feel her warmth once more.

By the third night, he stopped sleeping altogether.

He sat at his desk, the ink long dried on that last letter.

Please. I need you.

It looked desperate, too much, and just as he reached for the notebook again, to erase it, maybe, or explain, or beg again, the page stirred.

The ink began to bloom, slow and hesitant, like she had held the pen over the paper for a long time before letting it move.

The words were faint. Almost fragile.

I didn’t know what to say. I still don’t. I read your letter until I could hear your voice in it, until it made my chest ache. I kept thinking, why does someone like you need someone like me?

Eris closed his eyes.

You asked if you could keep me, but I don’t know how to be kept. All I’ve ever known is how to survive, how to patch things that are broken, how to put myself back together in silence when no one is watching. But I don’t think you want to watch me fall apart. I think you want to hold what’s left, and I don’t know how to let you.

There was a pause. A smear of ink.

He imagined her fingers trembling as she wrote.

I want to try. Not because I think I can give you what you deserve, but because when I read your words, I don’t feel quite so alone. Because I felt your need like a flame in the dark, as if it was burning just for me.

A breath shuddered through him.

If I come to Autumn, it won’t be to save you, and it won’t be so you can save me. It will be because, somewhere in this mess of grief and ruin, I want to remember what it feels like to be wanted. By someone who sees me.

The last line came slowly.

Like she wasn’t sure if she meant to write it until it was already there.

I want to be yours.

The page stopped.

Eris stared at it for a long time. He read her letter again and again, until the words blurred.

I want to be yours.

It was all he could think about.

What it meant, for someone like him, to want something so deeply, so entirely, after a lifetime of pretending he needed nothing at all.

He should have waited, should have breathed, but instead, he did the only thing a man undone could do.

He wrote to Rhysand, not a request, but a demand, sharp-edged and urgent. A meeting. Immediately. Because he needed her, and those five words had shattered something in him, cracked him wide open.

She wanted him, and that truth settled into his chest like a brand, hot and raging.

Taglist:

@booksstarryskies, @itsbrooke4, @discomago, @wllms, @bookwormysblog, @topaz125

[surielstea]

Can I get HCs for the Bat Boyz & the autumn boyz (Eris & Lucien, my favourites) with this dialogue:

“There’s nowhere to sit” “My lap is right here.”

Bonus points: if it’s not always the boyz’ lap that’s being referenced here. Personally I think Lucien, Rhys and Cass would find it hilarious.

Thank you! 💀

“My lap is right here.”

Pairing: ACoTaR men x Fem!Reader (separately)

Summary: requested above.

Warnings: All fluff with some suggestiveness!

A. Note: this is just a little something for you guys while I finish my Azris x Reader story (it’s already 10k words…) it’s gonna take me a minute to edit that so enjoy this while you wait! :)

Rhysand

Rita's was packed, the music thrumming through the air, a bass-heavy pulse that vibrated through the floor. Laughter and conversation wove together, filling the space with an electric kind of energy. You should have expected this—should have known that a night out with the Inner Circle would be anything but quiet.

The lot of you had managed to snag one of the larger rounded booths, a semicircle of plush velvet meant for maybe six or seven people. But there were ten of you, and despite the shuffling, adjusting, and outright shoving that had taken place, only nine had managed to squeeze in.

Which left you standing there, arms crossed, staring at the filled seats.

"Well, where am I supposed to sit?" you asked, arching a brow as your so-called friends barely spared you a second glance. Even Amren—tiny, ruthless Amren—had somehow managed to claim a spot.

Before anyone could answer, a strong hand wrapped around your wrist, tugging you forward with a familiar, effortless strength. A gasp left your lips as you tumbled into a broad, solid chest, your mate's scent of sea salt and citrus washing over you as he caught you with ease.

"My lap is right here, darling," Rhys purred into your ear, his voice a velvety caress. His arms caged you against him as he leaned back into the booth, utterly at ease with you in his lap. "This seat is always reserved for you."

A flush crept up your neck, heat coiling low in your stomach as his lips ghosted over the sensitive spot just below your ear. You swatted at his arm half-heartedly, though you didn't move away.

"Get a room," Cassian groaned, shaking his head. "Or at least wait until we've had a few drinks before you start eye-fucking each other."

"Oh, please," Mor cut in, already sliding out of the booth. "Tell me about it, Cass. I'm getting a round."

"Get us doubles!" Amren called after her. "We're going to need them." She sighed beneath her breath.

The table erupted in laughter, but Rhys barely paid them any mind. His fingers traced idle patterns along your thigh, his lips still dangerously close to your ear.

"You don't mind sitting here, do you?" he murmured, the hint of amusement in his voice making it clear he already knew the answer.

You tilted your head just enough to meet his gaze, violet eyes dark with mischief. "I think you planned this," you accused, narrowing your eyes.

His smile was all wickedness and charm. "And if I did?"

You huffed, shaking your head—but you didn't move from his lap. And judging by the way his hands tightened ever so slightly on your hips, you doubted he had any intention of letting you go.

Let Mor bring the drinks. You had everything you needed right here.

Azriel

"Hi, handsome," you greet, a smile curling at your lips as you swing open the door to your apartment. The crisp scent of rain drifts in with the night air, mingling with the warmth of your cozy home. Azriel stands in the doorway, shadows curling subtly around him as if hesitant to cross the threshold.

His hazel eyes soften as he takes you in, lingering on the comfortable sweater you've thrown on, the glow of candlelight flickering in the background. He steps inside, shaking a few stray raindrops from his hair, and you close the door behind him, shutting out the storm.

"You're soaked," you remark, reaching out to help him shrug off his damp jacket. His fingers brush against yours as he hands it over, and even with the chill clinging to the fabric, his touch is warm.

"It's cold out there," he murmurs, eyes scanning the space around him. He's never been to your apartment before, and you watch with amusement as his gaze sweeps over the small but welcoming interior—books stacked in uneven piles, a few blankets draped over the couch, a candle flickering on the coffee table. A place lived in. A place entirely yours.

"But it's nice in here," he adds, his voice dipping lower as he turns back to you.

You barely have time to process his words before his lips are on yours—slow, deliberate, his hands coming up to cradle your jaw as he deepens the kiss. You melt into him for a moment, savoring the warmth that spreads through your chest before you pull away with a playful smile.

"Come on," you say, tugging him toward the couch. "Make yourself comfortable."

Azriel hesitates. It's subtle—the slight shift of his weight, the way his wings twitch behind him as he glances at the couch. It's not exactly built to accommodate a six-foot-something Illyrian warrior with a wingspan that could cast an eclipse over your entire living room.

"Uh... where should I sit?" he asks, the uncertainty in his voice so rare it almost makes you laugh.

You smirk, patting your lap in invitation. "Right here's an option."

His lips twitch in amusement, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his gaze before he makes his decision—easing down onto the couch beside you instead. His wing unfurls slightly, shifting behind you before settling around your shoulders like a warm, protective cloak.

You hum contentedly, pulling a blanket over both of you and nestling into his side. The steady beat of his heart thrums against your ear as you relax into the comfort of his presence.

"Thought you'd take me up on my offer," you tease, tilting your head to glance up at him.

His lips brush against your temple, voice low and amused. "Maybe next time."

For now, you're more than happy with this—wrapped in the warmth of him, the scent of rain and cedarwood clinging to his skin, and the quiet, unspoken promise that he is exactly where he wants to be.

Cassian

"Babe, you in here?"

Cassian's voice carries through the library just before his head peeks around the doorway. You don't bother looking up, too engrossed in the book cradled in your hands—a detailed account of art created during the war. Nestled beneath a thick pile of blankets in a massive leather chair that practically swallows you whole, you simply lift one hand from the cocoon of warmth and wave lazily.

"Here."

He steps inside, brows knitting together. "I called you through the bond. You didn't answer."

"I'm reading," you murmur distractedly, flipping a page without sparing him a glance.

"Reading or not, answer next time. I was worried, okay?" His voice dips into something softer, more serious as he strides deeper into the room.

You hum in vague acknowledgment but don't respond, eyes locked on the words before you.

“Baby," he tries again, tapping a finger against the edge of your book.

You snap your gaze up at him, blinking as if just now remembering his presence. "Huh?"

Cassian exhales through his nose, clearly unimpressed. "Okay?" he repeats, waiting for some kind of confirmation.

Not entirely sure what you're agreeing to but wanting to return to your book, you nod absently. "Yeah, okay."

He watches you for a long moment, his broad shoulders deflating when you go right back to reading. The silence stretches between you, filled only with the soft crackling of the fireplace and the faint rustle of pages.

"Aren't you going to ask why I was looking for you?" His voice carries the weight of expectation.

"...No." You shrug, completely unrepentant.

Cassian lets out a dramatic sigh, his hope for your attention swiftly diminishing. "If you look at me right now, I'll leave you alone with your book," he mutters.

Your head snaps up instantly, locking onto his warm caramel gaze.

"Cauldron, you're determined," he grumbles. Then, in one swift motion, he swipes your book from your hands and snaps it shut.

You gasp, eyes widening as you reach for it. "Cassian!"

"You can read later. Give me attention now," he hums, looking far too pleased with himself.

You narrow your eyes at him, lips parting to protest, but then an idea strikes. You soften your expression, tilt your head slightly, and give him the biggest, most pitiful puppy-dog eyes you can manage.

His smirk falters. Then crumbles entirely.

"Okay, I'm sorry," he blurts, scrambling to return your book. He flips it open and, somehow, miraculously lands on the exact page you were on.

You blink in surprise before shooting him a suspicious look.

"What?" he says innocently, though the glint in his eye suggests he knew exactly what he was doing.

Still, you smile in triumph, sinking deeper into the chair and pulling the book back into place.

Cassian frowns at you, clearly still unsatisfied, and before you can react, he swoops in, effortlessly lifting you from your seat.

A startled yelp escapes you as he sets you on your feet, stealing your chair for himself. You huff but refuse to be deterred, standing directly in front of him, reading as if nothing had happened. Every so often, you flick a page, ignoring the weight of his amused stare.

A sudden shiver wracks through you, the realization settling in—you had been so warm under that blanket. You glance up to find Cassian comfortably wrapped in it now, looking entirely too smug.

"Give me my spot back," you grumble, crossing your arms.

"My lap is right here," he counters smoothly, patting his thigh.

You roll your eyes but don't hesitate long before crawling into his lap. His arms immediately come around you, securing you against his chest as he reclines the chair back. The warmth of him, the steady beat of his heart against your back, melts away any lingering annoyance.

Without another word, you resume reading, far more comfortable now than you had been before. Cassian presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, fingers threading through your hair in a way that is both distracting and soothing.

You silently thank him for keeping your hair out of your face, appreciating, despite everything, that he always finds a way to take care of you—even when he's being insufferable.

Eris

The golden throne is a masterpiece—intricate carvings of twisting flames and autumn leaves adorning the armrests, the deep red cushions a striking contrast against the polished gold. But the true vision of perfection is the male seated upon it.

Eris, legs spread carelessly, his head resting against his palm, the faintest smirk playing on his lips. His auburn hair catches the flickering candlelight, a halo of fire framing his sharp, impossibly beautiful features. His amber eyes—always so sharp, always so calculating—soften slightly as they land on you.

You shift your weight, feeling oddly out of place as you stand before him. "So... do I get a throne too?" you ask, tilting your head.

Eris raises a single brow, amusement flickering across his face. "Why?"

You blink at him. "Because this is the throne for the ruler of Autumn," he explains, as if the answer is obvious.

"Right," you say, crossing your arms. "But I just mean... I'm High Lady. Shouldn't I have a throne too?"

It feels strange, asking for something like this, but before you were even married, Eris made it abundantly clear—you are his equal in all things. He's never once treated you as anything less.

He exhales softly, watching you as if he's trying to puzzle something out. Then, finally, he shrugs. "We share a bed. Shouldn't we share a throne?"

Your lips part in protest. "It's not exactly large enough—"

But before you can finish, Eris moves. With a fluidity that makes your breath hitch, he reaches forward, gripping your wrist and tugging you toward him. A startled gasp escapes you as you stumble, catching yourself on the arm of the throne just as you land in his lap, straddling one of his thighs.

The position leaves your faces mere inches apart—your wide eyes meeting his entirely relaxed, smirking expression.

His hands settle on your waist, fingers drumming idly against the fabric of your dress. "We can get you your own throne if you really want, pretty," he murmurs, his voice a silken promise. "But what's mine is yours. So share this with me—for now, okay?"

You stare at him, still slightly stunned by the sudden shift, the warmth of him seeping into you, the firm press of muscle beneath you. His scent—smoke and crisp autumn air—wraps around you, grounding you in the moment.

Slowly, you nod.

"Good," he whispers, his smirk softening into something dangerously close to adoration before he leans in, capturing your lips in a slow, deliberate kiss.

A kiss that lingers, that tastes of fire and devotion.

And as you melt into him, you think—perhaps his lap as a throne was a perfectly good alternative.

Lucien

The gathering was already in full swing by the time you and Lucien arrived. The grand hall, adorned in golden candlelight and autumnal tapestries, was packed with High Fae from various courts. A long banquet table stretched through the center of the room, lined with platters of rich food and goblets of deep red wine.

You had expected a formal meeting—discussions of trade agreements, court relations, maybe a bit of posturing. What you hadn't expected was an entire buffet spread out on the table, and for every seat to be taken.

Lucien, of course, had found one easily, already seated comfortably among the dignitaries. His russet-red hair gleamed under the chandelier's glow, and he looked completely at ease, one arm draped over the back of his chair, a goblet in his other hand. He was already speaking with someone from the Winter Court, his voice warm and smooth—an effortless diplomat.

You stood at the edge of the table, scanning for an open seat. Nothing.

Lucien's keen gaze flicked to you. A slow, knowing smirk stretched across his lips. "Problem, darling?"

You crossed your arms, pursing your lips. "There's nowhere to sit."

Lucien took a languid sip of his wine, clearly reveling in your predicament. Then, with all the smugness in the world, he patted his thigh. "My lap is right here."

You shot him a sharp look, but he only raised a brow, entirely unbothered. His amber eye gleamed with mischief, the gold in it catching the candlelight. "Unless you'd rather sit in one of my brother’s advisor’s lap?" he mused, tilting his head toward the older men at the end of the table, who were giving you disgusting looks but thankfully too far away to catch wind of Lucien's ridiculous suggestion.

Your glare hardened. "Absolutely not."

Lucien grinned like the cat that got the cream. "Then by all means, make yourself comfortable."

You let out a long, suffering sigh before lowering yourself onto his lap, doing your best to maintain your dignity. His arms came around you without hesitation, one resting lightly at your waist while the other adjusted to make space.

“You know,” He started, lips brushing your ear. "You could have at least pretended to resist a little longer," he murmured, his voice low, meant only for you.

"If this makes a scene, you suffer the consequences."

Lucien hummed in amusement, fingers absently tracing patterns against your hip. "I think I rather like these consequences."

You were about to retort when a voice from across the table chimed in. "Comfortable?"

You looked up to find Helion watching the two of you with raised brows, his expression far too entertained.

Lucien didn't miss a beat. "Very," he replied smoothly, fingers tightening just slightly at your waist.

Helion chuckled, shaking his head, but said nothing more. Like father like son.

You, on the other hand, were going to murder Lucien the second you were out of sight of the High Lords.

But for now, as the night carried on, his warmth steady beneath you, his presence grounding in a way you weren't entirely ready to admit—you allowed yourself to relax, just a little.

And if Lucien pressed an occasional kiss to your shoulder throughout the evening, well... you supposed you could let that slide.

General Taglist: @fxckmiup @olive-main @iluvyewman-blog @gaymistakeboi @glitterypirateduck @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @fauxdette @going-through-shit @glam-targaryen @hufflepuff-pa55 @sarawritestories @tele86 @rogerbarnesxx @azriels-shadowsinger @stinkinstuffie @sandramalikstyles-blog @sassyangel16 @lilah-asteria @starsinyourseyes @inloveallthetime @melsunshine @nighttimemoonlover @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @cumuluscranium @adharanotfound @azrielsmate3 @aelincaddel @hiddlestonspassionsackx @dee-writes-angst @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @pit-and-the-pen @mybestfriendmademe @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @circe143 @bubybubsters @joshysloshy @username199945 @ivy-34 @notsarareallynot @vixenshiftsvrs @aurorab99 @pey2618 @loving-and-dreaming @mmg777 @andreperez11 @thatacotargirl @123345566 @one-big-fangirl @moonslitluna @imyherondale @salvawhxres @bookishbabyyyy @anuttellaa @breadsticks2004 @azriels-human @mamita-vera @demetercabingreen-thumb @lorosette @daughterofthemoons-stuff @tothestarsandwhateverend @ahaha0246 @mellowmusings @mythicalcookie

[manicmanuscription]

Different Acotar Character's x Current Partner Trend

Featured Characters: Rhysand, Azriel, Cassian, Lucien, Eris, Feyre, Nesta, and Elain. (all x f!reader)

A/N: Y'all Reader DOES hit Cassian but he knew she was going to and wanted her too? It was inspired by this one tiktok I saw in this trend very much giving Cass energy where the man said current wife, wife hit him and he immediately defended her because he knew she was going to so very much inspired by that. I also only said current wife/husband for most of these because in Acotar mates are like higher than that and I think if reader said boyfriend/girlfriend we'd actually see some major crashouts. Also in my head for this, Acotar is the same but just with phones, your free to imagine a completely different AU, go crazy fr,

Warnings/Tags: Reader hits Cassian, illusions to smut, very suggestive, lots of making out, big possessive energy throughout all of this. Beginning of BDSM scene because you know Azriel is FREAKYYY. Slight Dom/Sub dynamics. Fluff, slight angst, mostly just steamy. NOT proofread because I ain't doing all that. Minors DNI

Rhysand

I couldn’t help but giggle at the TikTok Mor sent me, girlfriends, wives and mates calling their partners ‘current’ just to provoke a reaction and I slipped my phone in my pocket with a plan in my head, smiling to myself. 

A few hours later Rhysand had returned from Hewn City with a gift and it was the perfect opportunity. We both sat out on the balcony watching the sun set and he slid a hand on my thigh in exasperation as I adjusted my phone standup upright against the wine bottle. “Can you please just open your present now baby?”

“Hold on a minute I want to make a video and show it to everyone.” You reminded him gently. “Your generation and phones.” My mate muttered under his breath, eyeing the little black box warily and I couldn’t help but chuckle. Technology had evolved so fast in the last few years and it was funny to see him still be so suspicious of it. 

“Grumpy old man.” I whispered as I opened up the camera app. “What’d you just say?” Rhys warned, squeezing my thigh. “Nothing!” I smiled, giving him a quick kiss. That’s what I thought. His voice slid into my mind and I sent him a quick bolt of love down the bond before pressing the record button. 

“Hey guys! I’m here with my current” the second the word current left my mouth the hand on my thigh slid up to the back of my neck. “husband-”

I didn’t notice his other hand until he stopped and then deleted the video. “No. Try again.” 

“Sorry baby I was just joking.” “Mhmm Hmm.” I started recording another video and I purposefully didn’t make eye contact with him but it was inevitable with the small screen reflecting ourselves back and the storm in his eyes could level cities. 

His hand squeezed my neck in warning and I did my best to ignore the heat pooling low in my stomach even though I knew I was playing a dangerous game. “Hello! I’m here with my current husba-”

“Absolutely not.” My mate said, grabbing my phone and winnowing us back inside the bedroom, tossing me on the bed. He set the phone up on the nightstand and pointed it towards my form on the mattress. “Wh-What are you doing?” I asked nervously, moving myself up towards the headboard and doing my best to stay out of view of the still recording camera.

Rhys walked to the end of the bed undoing his cuffs while he did so and I let out a barely audible whimper at the sight. He looked dangerous and absolutely furious. “Since you're obsessed with that little phone so much…”His voice trailed off as he eyed me hungrily, grabbing my ankles and yanking me back into view of the camera and further down the mattress. Rhysand crawled up my body, pressing tantalizing slow kisses to my skin as he did so. 

“We’re not leaving this bed until you correct your mistakes.” He said darkly, his mouth finally connecting with mine, barely giving me a chance to catch my breath as he dominated my tongue with his own. Purposefully claiming every inch of my mouth and I could practically taste that furious dark power simmering underneath his skin. 

Well it looks like I am never posting this video and Rhys chased away any other thoughts as he swallowed a strangled moan from me, somehow deepening the kiss. 

Lucien

“Hey baby?” I called out from my vanity chair. Lucien opened the adjoining bathroom door, a towel slung low on his hips and steam curling into the bedroom. “Yeah?” He asked as he walked over to me, patting his wet hair with a separate hand towel. 

My eyes ran appreciatively up and down his body and he gave me a wink. He paused walking behind me. “Do you remember what you need or you get distracted sugar?” 

“Oh shut up.” I rolled my eyes, finally twisting myself towards the mirror and pulling my gaze away from his muscled body. “I'm making a bedtime routine video. Do you want to be in it?” 

“Hopefully not all of your bedtime routine because I play a pretty active role in it-”

“Lucien!” 

“Ok ok!” He said putting his hands up in surrender even as I stifled a laugh. “Yes I want to be in it baby.” He stepped closer, still pretty tall from behind my chair so he lowered himself slightly and wrapped his arms around my torso. I smiled, melting into his touch before setting up the phone and hitting record. “Hey! So I’m going to be filming a nighttime routine with my current husband-”

“What did you just say?” Lucien interrupted me, standing to his full height and putting his hands on his hips, that towel almost slipping. I turned in my seat to face him. “I said we’re going to be doing a nighttime routine like I told you-”

“No no no after that?” 

“What’s your problem? Can we please just make the video?” I asked, doing my best to put my innocent face on even as I fought a smile at his furious expression. 

“Did you forget who I am, baby? Your mate. M A T E. Mate.” He looked at the camera with furrowed brows and for a second I thought I saw hurt flashing across his face before it turned into something darker, something more feral. He snatched my phone and stopped recording. Tossing it in the bathroom. “Hey, that's my phone!”

Lucien didn’t seem to listen to my protests; he just scooped me up with a small squeak. My nightgown rode up my thighs as he threw me on the bed. “It’s ok baby I’ll help you remember and make sure you won’t ever forget it.” 

Azriel

I hadn’t really been listening when the girls were telling the stories about their ‘current boyfriend’ mishaps or successes. It had been a silly trend going around but I had no interest in it, not really wanting to hurt my mate’s feelings. 

Until he started pissing me off. Working long nights. Leaving early in the morning without so much as a goodbye kiss and all this after his long mission? I felt neglected and well truly I hadn’t been bratty in a long time. 

I made a plan to get him to pay attention to me by forcing him to make a video together tomorrow in his office but he had spent this whole dinner party practically ignoring me again. Even though we were technically holding hands he was chatting it up with his brother’s like they weren’t all in Illyria for a few weeks and I was starting to get really annoyed. So he could touch me but not actually talk to me? 

No. I’m done. With a plan in mind I pulled away from Azriel’s side not seeing the confused look he gave me as I walked over to Mor and Feyre plopping down onto the ottoman next to them. “Hey girll!!” The females both slurred at the same time, very obviously drunk or at least tipsy. I smiled at them, warmth filling my chest in their presence. “Are you guys having fun?”

“Yes! Our High Lady can pa-a-rtyyyyy.” Mor cheered. “Yeah cause you infected her Mor..” Cassian chuckled from across the room. Feyre glared at the male, a clock somewhere in the house striking one in the morning. 

“What’sss that supposed to even mean? Am I not allowed to have fun? This is a celebration you have all been going for so soooo long.” She pouted, giving Rhys puppy eyes and I practically watched the High Lord melt underneath her gaze. He stepped away from his brothers, tucking a piece of hair behind her hair and sat beside her giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Of course you can darling ignore him, he’s a no good busybody.” 

“Hey!” Cassian protested and Feyre ignored him, melting into her mate’s chest with a small humph. This conversation wasn’t going in the direction I needed to piss my mate off so I steered it, turning towards Mor. “I heard you're going shopping with the girls this weekend?”

“Yes, do you want to come?”

“Maybe, since my current husband is probably busy.” I said with a small sigh. 

Azriel whirled his head around to face me and before Mor could voice whatever surprised thoughts clearly written on her face Azriel spoke first. Walking towards me and lifting my chin up to face him. “What did you just say?” His voice was lethal, dark and it had every fae in the room tensing up prepared to fight at the pure threat in his low tone. All conversation’s stopped completely, so quiet you could hear a pin drop. 

I opened my mouth to repeat it but my very drunk High Lady and friend beat me to it. “She said her current boyfriend is too busy to hangout with her so she’s going out on the town.” 

I knew everyone was watching us but I couldn’t find myself to care. Azriel’s firm grip on my chin and that deadly look in his eye had captured my full attention. “Is that so?” Azriel enunciated each word slowly. His deep voice only serves to add to his dangerous tone. 

“Mhmm Hmm.” Feyre said, nodding her head. 

I opened my mouth to respond but Azriel was already firmly guiding me up and out of my chair. Staring directly into my eyes with an intensity that had me shifting nervously on my feet. The look on his face was void of any emotion and if I hadn’t known him so long. I would’ve missed the absolute feral look in his eye. He masked it well but I knew him and I knew how deeply and utterly fucked I was. I think I fucked up. 

“Apologies Rhysand and Feyre but my mate and I have to go now. Thank you for the lovely night.” 

“You’re welcome. Have a…good night you guys.” Rhysand said and I could practically hear the smirk in his tone. Bastard. 

The shadows swirled around me in lazy circles but I had seen the occasional twitches, the tightening around my limbs and I knew they were just as anxious as Azriel was to get us away from prying eyes. 

Feyre had said something else I’d missed and as soon as she was done speaking they enveloped me completely and Mor’s voice echoed before the darkness transported us somewhere else. “Oooo girl she is in troubleeee. She not gon’ to walk tomor-” 

When the shadows dissipated I expected to find us in the bedroom, but as I slowly registered the dim lighting I quickly realized it was the playroom. Azriel was standing in front of me. The gentleness gone from his expression and he reached behind me and grabbed my hair in a ponytail pulling me close to him with a harsh tug and leaned down to whisper in my ear. “Where’s my good girl? She would’ve never acted that way tonight.” He hummed softly a clear warning and I opened my mouth to respond to defend myself, or say anything to lessen the punishment I was sure to receive but all I could do was plead. “Azriel…” 

“Shush shush I know. You just need a firm hand to bring her back to me hmm?” 

Gods I had fucked up. 

Eris 

It took a lot of convincing to get Eris sat in front of the camera, the High Lord tapping his fingers impatiently against the wood table as if he had something better to do than spend time with his mate. 

In fact I had told him just that in my plea to make a Tiktok and instead he responded with an annoyingly flirty quip about how there’s a thousand other ways we could spend time together and I had spent the night wrapped up in his arms but finally here we are. 

I pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and he softened slightly before I pressed the record button. “Hi everyone!” I chirped, shoving away the regret starting to form. I could participate in any other trend but had chosen this one, my one golden ticket to finally get him to film with me. Oh well this was payback for taking the hounds on a walk without me. 

“So I’m here with my current husband and-”

Eris’ head snapped to mine instantly, those amber eyes blazing impossibly brighter. The hand that had been impatiently tapping the table had stilled along with the rest of his form. A stillness only a predator could maintain and I shifted in my seat slightly, that heated gaze still on mine and I looked down at my hands just to avoid its burn. 

“What just came out of your mouth love?” He asked. Tone as smooth as butter and I recognized the courtier in him, the one who stole secrets with honeyed promises and poisoned touches. He lifted my chin so we made eye contact and I had forgotten how deadly my mate could be, how he’d survived years of living under Beron with a mask of calm and I had willingly opened the snake’s cage.

I opened my mouth to apologize when my phone suddenly turned to ash, the table next to go. “Eris…you’re being cruel.” I whispered carefully so many photos on that damned box and it was just gone. He gave me a cold smile and I instantly knew I was fucked. “No you haven’t seen cruel yet sweetheart.” He responded, still making direct eye contact with me in hopes to get me to squirm. Brushing a piece of my hair behind my ear, a kind gesture but I knew what it really was. A mockery, a reminder of the gentleness I could have if I hadn’t been a brat. 

The touch sent sparks down my spine and I finally hardened my gaze. His eyes only sparked with hunger at my unspoken challenge. What was that old saying? Don’t poke the bear? But there was a reason we were mates and I could handle his heat. “You know what, I'm not sorry.” I snapped, just like he wasn’t sorry for going on our morning walk without me. 

That cold smirk only grew wider, a hand lacing around my throat and one tightly wrapping around my thigh as he leaned in. “You will be.” 

Cassian

I stood next to my mate as he set up his phone, a grin plastered all over his face and I instantly knew he was up to some type of buffoonery. I just rolled my eyes and continued cutting the vegetables, chopping up the carrots with a practiced ease. “What are you doing love?” I finally asked. 

“Just making a video.” He hummed and hit the record button, coming to stand next to me so we were both in the frame.

“Hey Rhys I hope you’re doing good I’m making dinner with my current mate-”

He didn’t even get a chance to finish recording as I reached my free hand and punched him in the throat, a laugh bubbling out of my mate’s throat when I did so even as he wheezed for air.

“What did I say?” I asked him as he doubled over gasping, I dropped the knife and put my hands on my hips just watching him. “What did I say?”

“You said-” He wheezed out, letting out another choked laugh and a deep inhale for air as he struggled to regain control of his breathing and guilt tugged at me slightly. Even if I had warned him what I would do if he did this stupid fucking trend. “You…said.”

“-said you were -gonna hit me if i..” 

“Yeah, yeah and what did you do?” I asked harshly, trying to ignore the mixture of feelings rolling through me: guilt was the most present and slight pride at my form. But the bond was recoiling at my actions.

Cassian pulled on it gently. Letting me know he wasn’t mad and he even sent down his love and amusement, he knew what he was getting into to. Cassian continued laughing as he finally could breathe again which only made me angrier.

“I’m sorry. Please love, I'm so sorry.” He murmured, taking steady inhales and cautiously wrapped his arms around me from behind.

“Watch your fucking mouth or you won’t be currently living on this earth anymore.” I snapped as I picked the knife up again and started cutting the carrots, with a little more force than necessary. 

Cassian pressed his face to the side of my neck and breathed in deeply. The video is still recording but neither of us really cared. He then peppered kisses down my neck and I hummed softly, melting into his touch.

“I’m so sorry baby, I lost a bet to my brothers. it’ll never happen again. Let me make it up to you please?” He begged, a whine entering his tone, his hands obsessively grabbing my waist and holding me tight to his growing length. 

I flushed and quickly grabbed the phone and stopped recording, passing it Cassian. “Later.”  He continued to touch me as we made dinner, helping me reach the dishes on the high shelves and cutting the vegetables so I could focus on other tasks. One hand was constantly touching me as we worked side by side and brushing against me as he moved about the kitchen. 

“You know I’m proud of that punch by the way.” Cassian finally spoke, I looked up and expected to find a goofy grin on his face but all I could find was pride and I ignored the way my entire being lit up at it. “Thanks, my current mate taught it to me.” 

Cassian’s eyes sparked with a challenge, mirth dancing in them even as something darker hid behind it, pulling on the bond. He was right it was fun to mess with his instincts, he couldn’t hide the way his hands tightened around his chair. 

Before the night progressed any further a text popped up on my phone. A message from Venmo from both Rhys and Azriel with different amounts on the notification as they paid me what was due. The comment from Rhys reading: 'he should be more careful when you have a knife in hand.’

“Those bastards fucking set me up.” Cassian scoffed leaning in his chair and huffing like a small child. “Yup.” I popped the p reaching for my phone but Cassian was quicker, years of honed reflexes had him picking me up and carrying us to our bedroom in just a few quick seconds. 

“Alright enough of this damned nonsense.” He growled and I laughed, pressing myself closer to him as the night finally began.

Feyre

Feyre was seated on the breakfast nook, the morning sun reflecting off her skin and making her even more radiant. I skipped into the kitchen and pressed a kiss to her lips, my mate’s mouth chasing me as I pulled away before sitting next to her. 

“Oohh what are we eating?” I asked, eyeing the spread before me excitedly. 

“Well there’s some bacon, pancakes, fruit…” Feyre’s voice trailed off as she noticed I was already reaching for my phone to snap a picture, an amused chuckle escaping her before taking another sip of her tea. I opened the camera app looking at the picture button before deciding on a video as an idea formed. I’d just been watching those current partner videos earlier…and I selfishly wanted to see her reaction. 

I set the phone up on the vase of my favorite flowers sitting in the middle of the table hitting the record button before my mate could ask what I was doing and I ignored her silent question as she arched her brow. 

“So I’m here eating breakfast with my current wife-”

“What did you just say?” Feyre asked, choking on her tea, looking at the camera then back to me a few times. “I’m not sure if I heard you right?” 

“No, your hearing is fine love. We’re eating breakfast and you’re my curr-”

“Finish that sentence and see what happens.” Feyre said darkly, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms, eyes narrowing in on me. Fuck she was so pretty. When I remembered what we were talking about I continued the conversation for the sake of a video long sense paused unbeknownst to me.. “I’m just saying-”

“No.” She demanded, placing a hand on my thigh and squeezing in warning. “My current mate and I are eating breakfast-”

“No.” She snapped, squeezing my thigh with just a little more force and I couldn’t help but squirm, heat licking down my spine. I could tell she was close to snapping just a little more… “Fine guys. My current girlf-”

“Alright.” Feyre growled, reaching over and breaking my phone in half with a surprising strength, her power surging and tainting the air briefly. “Feyre!” I gasped standing up in shock. “It seems my pretty little mate wants to play games with me.” Was all she said before throwing me over her shoulder and carrying me upstairs. Fucking Finally. 

Nesta

Nesta and I were all wrapped up in our bed, leaning against the headboard hair wet from our earlier bath together and I curled into her shoulder even more so I could be closer to her and also so I could see her phone more clearly as she scrolled through Tiktok. 

A voice played from the speakers. The female on the screen doing another one of those current boyfriend videos with the male right next to her throwing a fit. I giggled a little bit and Nesta looked down at me with a serious expression taking over her face. “I will kill you if you do that to me. I’m serious, don't even think about it.” 

I knew her struggles and the things she’d overcome, it would be disrespectful to poke fun at old wounds just for the sake of a few likes. I nodded and moved so I was straddling her thighs. “Didn’t even cross my mind baby you’re stuck with me for life I’m afraid.” 

She smiled, a genuine one and my heart sang at the fact I was able to pull it from her. 

Elain

I finally found Elain in the kitchen and I walked up behind her wrapping my arms around her torso and pressing a kiss to the juncture of her throat. “Missed you.” I murmured. She hummed happily, leaning against me and rubbing those callused hands along my arms as she turned to give me a proper kiss. One in which I greedily indulged her.

Finally when we pulled away she mumbled a breathless “Missed you too.” When I noticed the camera that was recording. I gave Elain a questioning look. “I’m making a tutorial on how to make my famous lavender cookies!”

“You’re going to share the recipe with the entire world and not me?” I grumbled unhappily and she chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to my nose to get me to calm down. “That’s because I’m supposed to cook them for you, not the other way around. You know the rules in my house.” 

I rolled my eyes and washed my hands before coming back to Elain’s side to help her. She arched an accusing brow at me. “What?! I can cook. I'm great in the kitchen.”

“Sure you are.” She said, not so subtly rolling her eyes. “Just introduce me to your little viewers.” 

“Alright guys this is…” She paused and I could practically see the wheels turning in her head, a mischievous smile playing at the corners of her lips. “My current wife and she’s going to help me finish up.”

I paused what I was doing, putting the measuring cup down so I could look at my mate, who was intentionally avoiding eye contact. “Baby you said current wife.”

She just hummed and I put a hand on my hip, snatching her phone up, and deleting the video. “Hey!” 

“Nuh uh, cause I am not the one Elain Acheron. Your cookies are for me and me only, your mate. Not your current wife, or wife, or girlfriend or one of those little side-”

“You mean my friends?”

“I am definitely not one of your friends.” I grabbed her by the hips and set her on the counter, pressing myself between her legs. “Fix it. Now.” 

“You’re my mate. My beautiful, lovely, very possessive mate.”

“And....”

“And I love you very much and I’m yours.”

“Yeah that’s what I thought.” I grumbled, pressing my mouth to hers and invading her with my tongue, trying to etch my lovely mate into my very soul and being even further than she already was.

[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.

[prythianpages]

The Mark You Left Behind | Eris Masterlist

Eris x Reader ft. Azriel | Eris breaks your heart, unaware that you’re carrying his child. Now, both of you are left to grapple with the consequences of his actions, as your lives spiral in unexpected directions.

warnings: angst, hidden pregnancy, (other warnings will be specified by part)

a/n: The title is inspired by the song Que No Quede Huella (a classic), which is why the banner has the spanish lyrics. These parts are listed in chronological order. The parts with ৡ are kind of like bonus parts. For better context, I do recommend reading this starting with I. Stuck.

(I will say this will most likely be a set of fics/drabbles that center around a story but not necessarily a plot? Idk if this makes sense. Basically me writing a series but without the full detailed commitment? I'm just happy that after dealing with a rough writer's block, I'm actually getting the inspo/urge to write something.)

ৡ you're first fight with Eris | though this takes place before all of these, it's best if you read this after some context from the ones below.

ৡ Jealousy, Jealousy | Eris finds himself comforting you after a failed attempt at a courtship.

ৡ Down To You | The more Eris lets you in, the more he finds himself being pushed and pulled into feelings he's scared to accept. aka the beginning of it all

ৡ Nothing's New | Eris finds you right after under the mountain.

ৡ Tell Me I've Been Lied To | Eris didn't know that three simple words could change the course of your lives.

I. Stuck | After breaking your heart, Eris thinks you have moved on.

II. Think of You | Eris is unaware of how wrong he was. You're still picking up the pieces of your shattered heart. You find that it does not matter how far you distance yourself from Eris, a part of him will always be with you.

III. Something I Wait For | You're still overridden with stress over your unexpected pregnancy when an unexpected guest turns up at Day Court.

IV. Silver Soul | Azriel finds himself meddling in your business.

V. Lost in the Dark | Eris wants you back in Autumn. Meanwhile, you find yourself confiding in Azriel.

here is a little meme/post I made over one of the scenes from pt V.

VI. How Did We Get Here? | Things get heated at the High Lord's meeting and Azriel accidentally lets something slip.

VII. Protect Me From What I Want | After finding out you're carrying his child, Eris makes a sudden & unexpected visit to Day Court.

VIII. I'd Be There | Growing desperate in his search for you, Eris reaches out to Lucien, only to be settled over with more worry. sneak peak kinda

IX. If Only | Azriel is there to comfort you after taking you away from Day Court. aka your pov after pt VII

ৡ And It's All In My Head | Eris has a nightmare.

X. Come Back To Me | Experiencing some pregnancy complications, Azriel is left with no choice but to seek out Eris for help.

XI. So Much To Prove | Feeling much better now, you begin to crave Autumn pastries and find yourself missing home.

XII. No One Like You | Eris and you finally talk.

XIII. Untitled | still brainstorming some ideas but this might involve the part in ACOSF where Eris gets kidnapped by that angry queen

ৡ moodboard

fire gremlin | 2 |

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[daycourtofficial]

Insatiable you

Pairing: Eris x Rhysand’s sister!reader | WC: 5.1k | warnings: smut, piv, mentions of death and grief

Summary: Eris’s sudden disappearance when you saw him last has left you in a foul mood for weeks. Unwilling to admit to the source of them, they aren’t as one sided as your mate wants you to think they are.

Author’s note: this is part two to It’s just to satiate the bond and is the beginnings of my gingerfucker series. Happy reading and happy belated gingerfucker birthday to all who celebrate

The bond pulled tight in your chest, a string taut, the other end clear: come here.

Eris Vanserra had another thing coming if he were to believe you were at his beck and call, mate or not. It had been a month since he left you waiting in the woods. Four long weeks of knowing something happened to drive your mate away. Nights were spent gazing at the ceiling, mulling over every encounter with him, cataloging every moan, every sigh, every touch.

That string pulled again, fanning the flames of your ire. You could feel your blood pressure rising each time he did it, each tug causing some insult to come spewing from your lips.

Entitled, self-centered, jerk.

You ignored him. Again.

Every night at midnight, like clockwork, he tugged on your heartstrings, frustration at your icy silence evident across the distance between you two. You felt a bit of smug satisfaction at leaving him wanting - surely no one had dared to leave him wanting for anything before.

Spoiled princeling.

It was the only positive from this, the only enjoyment from the situation. Your last encounter with Eris had been devastating, leaving you in a foul mood that still lingered. Everyone had been tiptoeing around you lately, unsure of what happened to cause the storm that was brewing inside.

To make it worse, your powers were leaving those around you on edge. Cassian was more reckless, more driven during training, nearly ripping Azriel’s head off last week. Azriel was more withdrawn, lurking out of sight, spending his time gods know where. Mor was snippy, petty comments flying from her mouth at whoever crossed her path. Rhysand was the only one somewhat immune to it - he was only slightly more agitated than his normal demeanor, his grip so tight on his morning tea yesterday it shattered the mug.

You couldn’t help it - everything inside of you felt wrong, even worse than when you had lost your wings all those years ago. Learning how to walk again after that felt impossible. The ground tilting in different directions with each step, any sense of balance gone. It had taken a year to feel confident in your stride, for your mourning to end. You had lost your sister, mother, father, and wings all in one night.

It had been a confusing whirlwind of pain, most of the night a blur to you. The memory that stood out the most was the scent of pecans and smoke, something almost sickly sweet. Every scar was covered in that scent, every memory singed with it. You were grateful pecans didn’t grow in Night, only available in the western edge of Autumn.

Where your mate lived.

But now this feeling of otherness, like something was wrong, was almost worse. At least you knew what had been bothering you then - there was a source to your grief, frustration, and agony. You were only somewhat aware of the source this time. He had a name, bright red hair, and a sharp tongue that made you see stars. Ignoring your calls for him did more to you than you wanted to admit.

But you just couldn’t work out what happened. You hadn’t said anything to scare him off, only reiterating that it was just sex as normal.

You didn’t like how much this was bothering you.

Eris had been at the root of so much of your life lately - the loss of your wings, the bond snapping for you, the frequent romp in the woods. Now he was consuming your nights as well? That wouldn’t do.

So now, every night at midnight, you stay up, waiting for that tug to come. And each night, the smugness was gone faster and faster each night, leaving you with a gaping hole in your chest, curling into the darkness until you fell asleep.

-

It was pure luck when it happened, another perfect storm of circumstances and choice to lead you where you needed to be most. Rhysand was gone, off to the Illyrian camps with Cassian and Azriel. Amren was in her apartment, avoiding all of you because Cassian couldn’t resist being as annoying as possible and she needed a ‘month long vacation from stupid’. Mor was - well, somewhere, you supposed. She had mumbled something about needing a break, some alcohol, and a hot fae wrapped around her.

The thought had crossed your mind that they were avoiding you, figuring out that you were the source of their agitation. Gossipy enough to discuss it amongst themselves, but avoidant enough to hope it would go away on its own.

So that left you all alone in the townhouse tonight. It was your favorite home, the other ones not quite as homey to you. The House of Wind was depressing, especially since the loss of your wings meant it was inaccessible without an escort. The Moonstone Palace was a depressing museum of memorabilia you had seen your entire life, the impressiveness of it worn off many centuries ago.

That left the cabin in Illyria you couldn’t bear to go back to. You hadn’t been back since that night, just the memory of its familiar walls making your breathing shallow. Some form of Illyrian pride circulated your veins, making your barren back too shameful to be seen. You knew what the males would say, how the females would look at you in pity, the taunts that would be thrown your way.

It was better to distance yourself from your people. They would get it, every Illyrian’s worst nightmare on display for all to see. They would flinch, shielding their kids eyes, or point you out as a cautionary tale.

That’s what happens to over ambitious females.

Waking up after your wings were gone was the worst experience of your life. Rhysand had held you while you wailed, deep guttural sounds that threatened to topple Mount Ramiel. The loss of it all had threatened to consume you.

Life as you knew it before was over and you would never be the same person you were. You would never see your mother’s smile or hold your sister’s hand again, never able to sit in your father’s study as he scratched a quill on parchment.

Grief had taken residence in your home, an unwelcome guest who refused to leave. The four of you had quickly become ghosts of your past selves. The Illyrians around you began avoiding you because of their wings. Anytime they saw you they were straining to keep them tucked in and small. You began resenting them for trying to hide the most obvious parts of themselves from you, but you also resented them for still having their wings.

Damned if they do, damned if they don’t.

Traditional mourning black wasn’t enough to convey your grief. It wasn’t dark enough to showcase the storm that brewed inside of you.

The scars on your back still itched whenever you saw the black dress tucked in the back of your closet you wore to the funeral.

The funeral was held a few weeks after their deaths - Rhysand wanted you to be more stable before being seen in public, delaying the event for several weeks, enchantments around their bodies to keep them here and preserved for as long as possible.

The appreciation you felt had never been vocalized, never being able to truly thank him for waiting. The funeral had been difficult, but you spent the whole time propped up between Azriel and Cassian. Their large bodies kept you upright, not allowing your shaky legs to give out. You were pale and sweaty, but you stood the entire time, not giving in.

The priestesses had burnt night jasmine over the bodies of your family, hoping to allow them some tranquility as they moved on from this plane of existence. Pyres were built in their honor around them, wreaths of flowers and branches were built to lay atop them.

The people of Velaris looked to you and Rhysand, the last members of their noble family. They offered words of condolences, each of them depositing a flower at your feet.

A memorial to those that still lived, to the one that survived. Their princess was spared the cruelties of another High Lord. So flowers laid at your feet, a premonition for your own future grave.

The incense and the flowers made the town square smell so fresh, but the scent of night jasmine was the most overwhelming. It still clung to the dress in your closet, hitting you every day in smaller doses. Time had helped scab over the scars, but on days like today, it just hurt that extra bit more.

You were years past that, time healing your physical wounds. Your gait was steadier, as if you had never had wings. The scars were just that - healed over skin that bothered you before the wind would pick up, as if some part of your skeleton yearned to take to the skies. The ache had subsided every time you walked past paintings of your sister that hung in the House of Wind. Saying their names had become easier. You could even tell stories about them now without getting choked up.

Now you sat in the living room, spiraling in your own fears and worries. The full moon had come and gone many times since that night, and the males responsible were dead. You should feel fine. And you usually did feel fine.

But tonight the wind howled against your window, a strong storm pelting the glass so loudly you thought it would break. Rain was falling so hard on the roof you were slightly worried it might cave in.

Worst of all - you felt all alone.

The book in your lap was little help. Several minutes went by, your eyes pretending to read, your brain running in the background. The words were nothing, gibberish slashes your brain couldn’t quite make into words. There was nothing special about tonight, but you still couldn’t shake this lingering sense of dread.

A tug in your chest shot a spike of adrenaline through you, heating your body. The last person you wanted to think of right now was Eris Vanserra.

But you couldn’t help the tiny bit of soothing you felt at the contact at the thought that you were on his mind at this moment. Which only annoyed you further. You weren’t some schoolgirl, accepting any scrap of attention you’d receive from a suitor. You were Night Court nobility, a fearsome princess. The night incarnate.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, the sound startling you so badly the book fell from your lap.

Night incarnate who was afraid of a thunderstorm, you supposed.

A tree tapped the window, making your heart pump faster. Your breathing quickened, trying not to get yourself worked up. It’s fine - it’s just a storm was repeated over and over again in your head, trying to slow your breathing.

Everything would be fine.

Your self-soothing fell flat as the room filled with light, the lightning striking something close outside the window. Shards of glass littered the floor, embedding themselves in Rhysand’s hand sewn rug. A scream tore from you, panic and fear etching themselves into your soul. The thunderous beating of your heart was too hard for you to feel the desperate tugs on the string around your heart.

Your arms braced around your head, prepared for impact, but all that came was the rain. After a moment you looked up, finding a large tree limb in the living room. The tree that had been lightly tapping the window all night was suddenly inside the living room. You groaned, trying to find something to cover the window with. You could tape up a blanket, maybe?

If Rhys were here he could just reassemble the window, putting the tree back in its rightful place, but you unfortunately weren’t gifted with much magic outside of empathic powers. You could winnow and perform small tricks, but nothing to the scale of reassembling thousands of window fragments back into place.

Could Eris fix it? The brief question flickered through your mind before you shook it away. You started to make your way across the room, but a tiny shard of glass embedded itself in your foot, the pain causing you to stumble. It was the last straw, the last thing to send you over the edge. Before you knew it, you found yourself on the floor, paralyzed with fear and pain. The crack of thunder came in from the distance, but it was louder without the window. It roared inside, ricocheting off the walls, stuck in the living room torturing you.

The sound suffocated you, wrapping around your throat and making breathing a luxury you didn’t have coin for. The room was getting smaller and it was filled with the sound of the thunder and your heart beating and by the mother you were surely dying.

You were cold and wet, feeling oh so small and alone in the townhouse.

You were cold that night, too. Shivering for hours in the mountains before Tamlin had found you. Was the Mother finally here to collect the one that had escaped death?

You were spiraling into the past, unable to move or bring yourself to the present. You were convinced you could smell the scent of night jasmine if you focused hard enough. Eyes clamped shut, the roaring rain unforgiving on your hearing.

And then it smelled like smoke. Not a subtle scent, but strong and overbearing, enough to pull you from the huddled position you had been in. His warm body surrounded you, arms circling you, desperately hoisting you in the air, pulling you up with them.

That scent clung to you at all hours, a light layer of reminder of what you had been trying to leave behind.

“I’ve got you.” He whispered, more to himself. He cradled your head in his hand, pulling you to his chest. His heart rate was pulsing, the normal rhythm forgotten, replaced by some fast, erratic melody you didn’t recognize.

He pulled you away from the scene before pulling your face away, gently cradling your jaw. His pupils were blown, amber burnt out by the all consuming black that made him look more creature than male. He angled your face multiple ways before his hands slid down your arms, a slow slide of touch before they rested at his side.

Eris was silent as he looked at you, his shoulders rising and falling more slowly with each breath. The rain had soaked him, his short hair dampened by the rain, dripping onto his white tunic. The usually loose fabric now clung to his skin, some of his freckles visible through the wet cloth.

“What are you doing here?”

Eris rubbed at his chest, soothing some invisible ache. He didn’t answer, only stared at you in silence. His face was hard set, all sharp lines and angles ready to cut whoever dared come near.

“Eris, why are you here?” You repeated yourself as rain pelted in through the window, covering the right side of your body. Your nightgown was sticking to you, the robe on top of it doing little to shield you now. You didn’t notice any of it, your full attention on the male in front of you.

Eris waved his hands, a flourish as the tree limb in your living room burnt to ash. You expected the space it had occupied to flood with water, but only steam billowed in the air to reveal a fixed window. The phrase show off prattled around inside you, but the shock hadn’t quite worn off enough for you to say anything else.

“I thought you were dying.” His voice was so small in the now too quiet townhouse. Water dripped onto the floor, creating a puddle on top of the gorgeous hardwood. He looked nothing like the proud, snide Eris you knew - he looked like a boy.

“My chest was being ripped apart, shredded from the inside out. I had to- to come, to see you, to find you and whatever was harming my mate.”

Only now did you realize he was half-dressed: a loose, billowy shirt covered only some of his chest, the strings half-done to uncover part of his chest. He wore trousers but no shoes. He must have rushed over here while he was undressing.

That realization helped you crawl out of the panic stricken state you were in, slowly coming back to the surface.

“And you found a tree.”

You expected him to laugh at how something as simple as a tree could leave you immobilized. But the taunt never came. He looked just as serious as if he had discovered an attempted assassin, not bringing any levity to the situation.

“I found my mate in distress.”

He was trembling in front of you, a slight shake in his hands as he focused on you. You attempted a scowl, your face not quite making the right shape, looking more akin to discomfort.

“Tell me to leave and I will, but it has been months since I’ve laid my eyes on you and I will take every second I can linger.”

Your head wanted him gone, wanted nothing to do with him after he had left you so abruptly and then stood you up. Your mouth couldn’t even form the words, forgetting the shape to make the sounds required, as if the word had vanquished from your vocabulary.

“Why didn’t you come?” The question that had been haunting you for months now slipped out so casually, like asking for the weather or how one’s day has gone.

You couldn’t peel your eyes from Eris, watching every blink, every breath he took, searching for answers in every inch of his physical being.

All you found was the loneliness of the past few weeks reflected back at you in some odd mirror.

“I am not easy,” he croaked, his body tense and rigid.

“I don’t think anyone has ever implied you were.”

“My father-“ Eris swallowed harshly, his throat bobbing with the action. His fist clenched to the side, another crack in the careful facade. “He is not kind nor fair. He is what he thinks is fair.”

“And what do you think he is?”

A story was coming to life through his actions, but it was fuzzy and not all there. What you could see, though, was enough to make your stomach clench.

“An awful fae.”

You were circling each other, orbiting around each other, never quite getting sucked into the other’s gravitational pull. Eris’s admission lingered in the air, his tone begging not to linger on the topic.

Beron Vanserra was not a male you enjoyed seeing. He wasn’t a male you enjoyed knowing was alive, albeit hundreds and hundreds of miles away.

Some understanding clicked in your mind - somehow, Beron had stopped him from seeing you.

“Does he know about us?”

“No.”

Months of sneaking around with Eris, months of fast sex and dirty words. You thought you knew all of Eris, already quite familiar with the shape of his tongue, the curve of his cock.

And only once had he removed his shirt. You had thought the markings on his back were indentations you had left behind from an overly eager romp.

Oh how he had concealed his greatest shame from you, the most private part of himself.

But he had shown you. You just didn’t have the eyes to see it.

Old scars had lingered behind the fresh markings of your pleasure. You were a fool to not have realized until now. Bile rose in your throat as a rush of adrenaline came over you. You swallowed the bile and the territorialism down, leaving Beron for another day. Eris had given you more than he ever had before, but you needed more from him.

“Why’d you go?” Your voice came out scratchy, as if your throat were trying to keep the words inside, spare yourself from the pain of knowing the answer.

“I-“ Eris’s footsteps stopped, his body turned to face yours straight on. “You are my mate.”

His words weren’t sinking in, the fact on his lips not matching the ferocity of his gaze. “This is far from news to me.”

His head shook slightly, red, wet hair falling briefly into his eyes. He looked so pained, so full of a hope that he doesn’t expect to live up to.

“You are my mate.” The words held more conviction, as if that fact was all that kept him grounded to this world, the only thing keeping him standing upright.

“I’m your mate.”

“The Mother made me for you. I was too blind by my own fury to realize that until…”

You stared up at him, the words stalling on your lips. You had no idea what to say, how to vocalize the complexities of your emotions.

“I think of you. At all hours I find myself pondering everything about you. The things I know, what I don’t know. I-“

“What do you think you know about me?”

“I know that my lips feel empty when yours aren’t upon them. I know that your back aches from the loss of your wings every morning. My soul knows yours, my heart beating in a rhythmic prose that calls for your attention.”

His hands were warm as he cradled your face. He looked like he was trying to memorize every inch of your face, cementing this moment forever.

“Please answer my heart’s call. I have never known softness, but I know you now. I can’t make great promises - my father holds an iron will over my life. I am not easy, none of this will be easy, but I am yours.”

All the nerves that had held you hostage these past few weeks, the anxieties that plagued you in the middle of the night, were all carried off with Eris’s confession. You felt light, like every moment of your life had clicked into place to be here. Everything prepared you for the male before you.

“I am not kind nor am I gentle. I am feral. I’m not whole without you. But what we could be together-“ he swallowed back emotion, his forehead pressing against yours, needing the support to continue speaking.

“I always thought I was destined to make some poor female miserable for the unfortunate mistake of being born into whatever family my father approved of. But now I know I would rather spend the rest of my days rotting from my own loneliness than indulge the notion of anyone but you being at my side.”

“And what would I be at your side?”

“Lady of Autumn. My mate. My equal.”

You knew the odds of a political match were possible, even after your father’s death. Rhysand wouldn’t demand it of you, but he would ask the question. You never knew how you would answer.

The moment stretched on, a world of possibilities behind your eyes.

The middle child. Loved, but not the next heir, nor the baby of the family. For years now, you had been telling yourself you were equal to Rhysand, his power the only divide.

But you had known that wasn’t true. To him and the people of the Night Court, you would always be the one who lived. The baby bird without wings, unsure of her own feet.

Eris was just as resolute before you as he had been that night. The pain was blinding, nothing making sense, but Eris kept repeating something over and over into your ear.

You do not end here.

It wasn’t until now that you realized that Eris had never looked at you with pity. All these years, all the loss and heartache. It took Cassian two years before he could look at you without his eyes instinctively looking to your back.

The people who loved you most in this world were gone. Or maybe you were gone to them. Maybe both were true.

You would never have wings again, never get to feel the air beneath them as you glided across an air current. Maybe the next phase of your life was meant to be on the ground, standing on sturdy, solid, rich soil that was full of life and growth and love. The pain of the past month had crept back up, bile in the back of your throat.

“Swear it now. Swear to me that you will never disappear on me again. You weren’t there, and I-“ you weren’t ready to bare your soul to him, to show him how much his disappearance had really affected you. “Swear that you will do whatever it takes to come back to me when I call, that you will not just abandon me.”

“The very depths of my soul yearn for you. Every fiber of my body, every beat of my heart is incomplete without yours harmonizing with it. I will do whatever it takes to make my way back to you. I promise.”

You slowly undid the knot of your robe, keeping eye contact as you let the fabric fall from your shoulders. Eris shuddered, hands flexing at his side as he kept his eyes on your face.

Fingers curled around the strap of your nightgown, slowly sliding each one across your shoulder until it fell in a puddle of silk at your feet. The male before you didn’t blink, didn’t move, only watched.

“If you’re mine, it’s only fair if I’m yours too.” Even without the bond, you would have felt the surge of adoration that flowed through his veins at the admission. “I’m not fragile, I won’t yield, I won’t break. I am not a doll and I won’t be one. If you want me, I am your partner above all else.”

You stepped toward him, your breasts almost touching him. The bond was vibrating with excitement inside of you, something warm that reached your cold toes.

“We are in this together.” It was all you needed before your hand slowly crept up to his face, the magnetism of the bond in your chests pulling you toward him. You cradled his jaw, preening as he leaned into your touch.

“My mate.” A whisper from his thoughts and your lips, so much emotion in those two words. You balanced on raised toes as he leaned down, lips finding each other in the middle.

It felt like coming home after a long day, slowly moving through the house you knew every part of it and finding something new to appreciate at every turn. Warm and inviting, he tasted like cinnamon and fresh bread, some Autumn dessert no doubt.

Heat radiated off of him, surely turning the water on him into steam. Your arms wrapped around his neck, the space between feeling insurmountable. His hands cradled your back, softly laying right over your scars. Aware, but not timid. Your naked body was pressed to his clothed one, letting his tongue roam in your mouth.

Hours must have passed by the time you reached out, tugging at his shirt for him to remove it. A joke could have been made, some lighthearted comment about being bare before him while he was still dressed, but it felt wrong.

This moment required no levity, no words. You felt comfortable and safe and warm, just wanting to ride out the moment.

The two of you broke apart so he could pull his shirt over his head, his trousers being discarded along with it. Two souls bared before each other. It wasn’t your first time, especially not with him, but everything felt new.

He was beautiful in the lowlight, the rain sounds echoing the thundering of your heart. This time his gaze roamed your body, appreciating every curve and dimple.

Before it was all teeth and gnawing, scratching an itch. Rushed, uncaring, so long as you both got an end. Repressed and frantic, afraid to be caught by your own feelings.

That was then and the two of you lived in the now where you were now one entity, no clear edges to either of you. The bond was flowing between you, two souls connected in every look and every movement.

Two sets of eyes held onto each other, hardly blinking, both of them wanting to remember every thrust, every moment, every sense of pleasure.

Every emotion flowed through the golden bond between them, ebbing and flowing with every heartbeat. Each touch was decadent, each movement slow and languid, allowing time to pass without a care in the world.

The rug that had been littered with shattered glass was beneath your bodies, cushioning you in this new experience of savoring the other.

Neither of you looked away, your eyes only closing when you were kissing. A tenderness and level of devotion neither had known before. Nothing would hold a candle to this. No one would ever pull this emotion from either of them, no one would ever be exactly what the other needed when they needed it.

Perhaps no one else had ever felt this way before. So full of possibility and wanting and needing this new life to start now. So sure it was right, every touch and squeeze and stroke further proof of the Mother’s love.

When Eris felt himself get closer to that precipice, he cradled your face so softly, a tenderness he had never known. He watched pleasure through your eyes, his own face reflected back to him. Maybe the sight spurred him on, the love in your eyes so clear as he thrusted in and out.

“Mate.” The word slipped from his lips as everything he kept inside, his seed, his love, every emotion he kept hidden tight within him. It all spilled out, unable to keep it to himself.

“My mate.” The words were like a mantra, as if repeating them cemented them, made them more real.

But the words were real. This was real.

The male had never thought it possible. Thought his soul too rotten, too foregone to have a mate. To have someone tethered to him for the rest of his cursed existence.

He fought it. He didn’t want it. Didn’t want to watch as he corrupted and destroyed his mate.

But you were more than some delicate thing he could break. You weren’t a thing to break at all. Every piece of you was aligned perfectly with him, every shape and crevice molded for the other to hold for all eternity.

Despite it all, despite the atrocities he’s witnessed, despite the terrible things he’s had to do to survive, despite the person he had to become, Eris Vanserra had found something to live for.

Banner by @tsunami-of-tears

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-angst @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader @milswrites @the-golden-jhope @hannzoaks @secretlyhers @tothestarsandwhateverend @sarawritestories @chxosangxl @quiet-loser @thegreyjoyed @paankhaleyaaar @acoazlove

Eris taglist: @magicstrengthandcourage @book-obsessed124

Gingerfucker taglist: @bookwormysblog @talesofadragon @saltedcoffeescotch

Author’s note: eeeeee you guys LOVED the first part and I’m SO excited to finally get this second part out. Mwah 😘

[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!