#Eris x reader

[we-were-beautiful]

The Fox and The Hounds Ch. 6

A/N: Whelp here is chapter 6 only 2 months after I finished it. I’m sorry life got hectic for me and my beta I apologize in advance.  Thank you @loving-and-dreaming for being a wonderful beta

Summary: Its autumn court tradition to give your mate a fox kit before your ceremony. after years of knowing the Vanserra’s a mating bond snaps between the Autumn Heir and a well known smoke hound breeder

Warning: Mentions of violence and Beron being the father of the year  

 WC: 3.3k 

I wake up to the first rays of morning light hitting my face, and a fire at my back. It was too warm to be one of the hounds, and the strong arm pulling me closer reminded me that Eris had fallen asleep while we were talking last night. Apparently he was a snuggler. A pitiful whine drew my attention away from my mate who was curled around me. Sitting at the edge of the bed was one of Eris' hounds looking like they wanted to hop up onto the bed but didn’t want to upset the others that were there. 

I took stock of the hounds that had decided to sleep in the bed. Ramiel was still tucked against my front while Rosie had curled by my feet. Ichabod had taken residence along the bottom of the mattress. Paprika had curled herself up beside my head and on my hair. if I were to bet there was probably a hound or two on the other side of Eris.

“I can hear you thinking. Go back to sleep.” Eris rasped sleepily from behind me; squeezing me closer to him burying his face into my neck.

“I think we need to get up, Eris.” I wiggle trying to escape. “The last thing we need is for the servants to walk in here and see us.”

I wouldn’t be surprised if they did see us, that they would go straight to the High Lord. Once Eris’ brain processes what I just said he sits straight up disturbing the three hounds that had been curled up behind him. Despite how coldly he acted around his family I knew that deep down Eris was terrified of what his father would do if provoked. 

“I will mess up one of the beds. Make it look like I slept there.” He moves to get out of the bed. 

“We probably have an hour or two before the staff get here. Is there anything that you would like to request for breakfast?” 

 I sit up in the bed and take in the sight of my mate.  If we had completed the mating bond it would have been so easy for me to just go down stairs and cook for the two of us. But the act of preparing a meal would signify that I was accepting the bond, and trigger the mating frenzy. Which would not be good for either of us. Males while caught in the frenzy were insatiable and volatile. Any other male was seen as a threat regardless of family ties. And two we were expected to adhere to royal protocol. 

We would have our mating ceremony in front of the court, then after the reception we would retreat to our private quarters or this house most likely, and I would prepare a simple meal for Eris. We would spend an undetermined amount of time alone locked in the throes of the frenzy. Periodically some poor guard would be sent to check on us; to see if we were close to being done. If Eris decided to maul that person then we would be given more time. 

Preparations for our mating ceremony had been in full swing since the bond had snapped, and we had roughly 2 weeks before the actual ceremony. It seems like Father and the High lord wanted this union to happen quickly; given that I have seen preparations for a ceremony take 6 or more months. If we had been two common fae, we would have been able to run off to a priestess and have our union blessed the moment the bond snapped; but with Eris being the son of the high lord and heir apparent there was more need for pomp and ceremony. And if the two of us were caught in bed together we would end up facing the wrath of the High Lord for certain. Beron Vanserra was not one to take any scandals lightly. He liked to keep the illusion of the Vanserra name squeaky clean. Any scandalous behavior was swept under the rug and brutally punished. 

“Eggs, toast, and bacon would be amazing, but whatever the kitchen staff prepares will be alright.” He looks at me as if not expecting the simple request.

“Just eggs, bacon, and toast? You don’t want a full spread?” He furrows his brows in confusion. 

“My family doesn’t often do fancy morning meals unless your father is expected to be in attendance.” I admit. 

Honestly we didn’t feel the need to have overly fancy meals despite our station. Why waste food for one meal when you could save money with simpler meals. Admittedly we spent a lot of gold on the hounds, but the return was always palpable. I fetched a small fortune with every litter I produced. Hells, I had quadrupled my already sizable dowery with a fraction of what my hounds brought in. 

“That surprisingly makes sense. Eris had gotten out of the bed and was leaning on the door frame. “I will see you downstairs then.”

“Wait.” I call out as he turns to leave, “How should I dress for the day?” 

“Nothing too fancy, we are just going into town today. The townsfolk are more accustomed to seeing me in casual clothes so if I go in court wear it might be concerning.” He lets out a chuckle. 

“So pants would be alright?”  I asked.

“Pants would be fine, preferably actually if we take horses into town.” He scratches at his head “ I know you ladies have riding dresses; but I don’t have a side saddle here, and honestly it seems a bit dangerous to be riding in a dress.” his brow furrows

Thank the mother. While I could ride sidesaddle I hated it; The dresses always got in the way and attracted mud like no other. I much prefer riding astride in pants. Pants also meant that it was easier for me to get ready by myself. This was a win win. 

“Alright, Thank you Eris.” I watch a smile grow on his face.

“You’re welcome. I will see you in a bit.” He gives me a nod before shutting the door. A host of eyes look at me on the bed. Of course the hounds look like they haven't seen food in years, despite the fact they were fed just last night.  

“Let me get ready then we will get you your breakfast..” I laugh while standing from the bed. 

Thankfully my ladies maid back home had packed one of my work outfits. A nice pair of breeches and coordinating linen shirt and a pair of tall riding boots. A nice structured leather vest would go over the shirt to provide support and complete the outfit. I would wait for Melonie to get here to help wrangle my hair into a style suitable for riding, but the outfit is easy enough for me to don by myself. 

Once dressed, I head down stairs followed by a pack of hounds and one small fox. My boot falls echoed by the clicks of their nails on the hardwood. Down in the living room Eris is lounging on the oversized armchair. 

“We need to get them food before they start getting snippy.” I commented to him. He laughs standing from the chair. 

“Yeah lets get them fed, and let them out to play for a bit. We can leave them out when we go into town; one of the servants can keep an eye on them.” He moved towards the kitchen to fetch their meal.  I make quick work of collecting all of their bowels from the floor to start filling. This will definitely be easier with a kennel. We can get all of the hounds into their own space and feed them from there. While this way works it is a bit chaotic. 

As the two of us work in silence the household servants filter their way unseen into the house. The Autumn Court prided themselves in the quiet effectiveness of their servants. Most could work in the house and not ever be seen for fear of punishment. The only ones that were normally visible were the ones who served food during meals, but then they didn’t respond unless spoken to. 

“Eris Vanserra!” A voice pulled us out of our little world. “What is this mess!” 

Ah, the housekeeper is here, and just like we predicted, upset.  A short routund wood nymph burst into the kitchen. She glares up at Eris with a look I never thought I would see directed at him from anyone except his father.

“Sorry Aisling.  The hounds decided last night was a good time to play in the rain.”  at least he had the audacity to look sheepish.

“I have told you for years that you need a kennel Eris; but have you listened to me no, and now you have added seven more to make messes.” She scolded him like a small faeling.

“I know. I know, and I will be speaking to the mason today about having one built. I have learned my lesson, trust me.” I would prefer to not have almost 20 hounds running through the house coated in mud again. 

“You better, seeing as there is mud throughout the house and your room is trashed.” I try to hide my snicker in a cough.

“Oh I am so sorry Lady L/N. I didn’t see you there.” If possible it seemed like her rich bark skin darkened just a bit around her cheeks. She drops into a curtsy.

“Dear, this is my head housekeeper, Aisling.” Eris chuckles clearly amused by the way he had gotten out of his scolding. 

“It's nice to meet you Aisling.” I give the nymph a smile. 

“It’s nice to meet you as well my lady. We will need to speak at one point on how you would like the household to be run after the ceremony.” She keeps her head bowed.

“I look forward to speaking with you and working together.” and I was. I only had the basics on how to run a house from watching my mother, but I am certain that it is a lot more involved than I am used to. So having someone with experience will be a major leg up for me. She looks up at me as if not expecting me to be as accepting towards her as I was. She looks between me and Eris eyeing the bowls that are strewn about the two of us.

“We can talk later, but for now you two please leave and let us take over.” She slowly shoos the two of us out of the kitchen. I chanced a quick look over my shoulder to see several servants quickly replace Eris and I as we made our way to an informal dining room. 

Instead of the large table in the other room, this room has a simple wooden table that could seat at max 8 people. Eris pulls out one of the plain chairs for me to sit in before taking a seat across from me. A servant quickly enters the room with a tea service for the two of us, placing a cup in front of each of us before setting the pot and sugars and cream in between us.

“Your breakfast should be ready shortly.” is the only thing that he says before bowing and leaving the room.

“It's funny seeing them act all formally with you.” Eris grabs the teapot and pours himself a cup before passing it over to me.

“They don’t normally act like this?” I ask and furrow my brow in confusion.

“They act like this if my father is around, but if it's just me it's fairly informal.” He looks at me as if he can see the worry growing in my stomach. “Don’t worry they will relax around you soon enough dear.” 

Like the servant said, our breakfast comes out shortly. Eggs, bacon and toast for me; and bacon and porridge for Eris. Seems like we shared the same Ideas about a simple breakfast. Soon the pot of tea is empty and so are our plates.

. 

“Are you ready to go?” Eris asks, standing up. 

“I just need to have Melonie help me with my hair and then I will be ready to go.” I responded.

“Ok I will go and get the horses ready. Meet me out front when you are ready, and we can head into town.” He pulls out my chair and helps me stand. We part ways out of the dining room. Melonie is already in my room by the time I reach it.

“Ah Y/N  there you are and you’re already dressed.” She looks me up and down. “Pants?” 

“We are going into town today and Eris doesn't have a side saddle.” I explained, “Can you help me with my hair?”

“Take a seat at the vanity and we will get you settled.” She shakes her head.

Melonie takes her time to properly handle my hair. Fully focused on her tasks. I can see why Eris picked her for me.

“What's the town like?” I asked in curiosity. I had never been to Rivervale, and I wanted to know what to expect.

“Its town.” She shrugs “Rivervale is like most of the other small towns in Autumn. Most of our incomes come from distilleries, but the people are friendly enough. Eris is there pretty regularly so most of them just treat him like any other person.” 

I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but that wasn't it.

“Is there anything you would recommend me to do in town?” better to ask a local on what to do in town rather than just randomly guessing.

“Have Eris take you to Ma’s and get you a spiced cider. It's nice to have while you walk about. If you are looking for food, Regen's has some of the best meat pies in the providence.” She pauses for a second “Not sure if you are looking for clothing, but if you look for Dorcas’ she makes some beautiful dresses amongst other things.” 

She quickly finishes off my hair with a final pin. 

“Okay is there anything else you need?” She asks.

“I need Paprika’s bag and leash, and my purse.” The little fox was more than comfortable riding in the leather satchel when we traveled on horseback, but the moment I was on the ground the wiggly little thing wanted to dart about hence the leash. 

Melonie quickly darts about the room gathering up the requested Items. She passes off the leash to me which I clip onto Paprika’s collar. She then hands over the bags . We head down the stairs to the entrance. 

“One of Eris sentries will be accompanying you. Just pretend he doesn't exist. I had forgotten about the sentries that always seemed to follow the two of us around. Eris to my knowledge was a formidable warrior and technically didn’t need a babysitter but Beron insisted on it. I would put money on that one of the sentries is feeding Beron information about Eris and I. 

We are greeted to the sight of Eris flanked by two sentries and four horses tied to the railing.

“Are we ready to head out?” I ask with a cheery smile.

“I think so.” Eris responds by motioning for the senties’ to start mounting up. I make quick work of scooping Paprika up and placing her into her bag. The wiggly kit squirms before curling up into a small ball. 

“This is Solace. She's a good, reliable horse.” Eris leads me over to a large black mare. He cups his hands together to give me a leg up, ever the gentleman. “It's about a 30 minute ride into Rivervale. Ignore the sentries they shouldn’t be too much of a bother”

“Ok.” He nods, walking over to a large bay gelding that he mounts with ease. We rode through the forest in silence for a while. I take in the brightly colored leaves that fall around us as we ride. Truly the Autumn Court has to be the most beautiful courts in Prythian. The vast woods are painted with various reds, yellows, browns and oranges. Dotted by picturesque villages and towns. Yeah the other courts had their respective draws but Autumn will always be my favorite.

So I have been told to have you take me to Ma’s for cider when we get there.” I look over to where Eris rides next to me.

“I had planned on that but let me guess Aisling or Melonie.” He looks at me with a fond smile. 

“Melonie. I asked for recommendations since I have never been to Rivervale.” I laugh.

“Really you’ve never been.” He sounded shocked.

“No, I typically only travel around when I’m dropping off puppies, or checking the homes of potential buyers, but no one from here has ever purchased one.” I’m not even sure that there is someone that could afford the price tag that came with one of the puppies from my kennels.

“Well it seems like the Mayor didn’t take my advice then.” He scoffed.

“You recommended me for smokehound puppies?” I asked shocked.

“You have provided the Vanserra's with our best hounds; I would be an idiot if you weren't the one that I recommended” It is a no nonsense response. 

“Do you know who else he was looking into?” I asked. The breeding community was relatively small, and some were more reputable than others.

“It was between  your family, the Daxton’s and I think the Stonewallis’.” I grimace at the mention of the Stonewallis family.  I'm picky about the homes my puppies go to; I turned them down when their patriarch approached me when Willow had her last litter. The hounds that had come from that family were not healthy as a result of inbreeding. Yeah they sold them cheaper than others but they cut a lot of corners as well. Their hounds were also kept in poor conditions. I wouldn't leave any of my hounds in that place let alone a puppy.

“That's a sour face right there.” He looks over at me from his horse.

“Hopefully he went with the Daxton’s. I wouldn’t want any of the pups out of the Stonewallis’ kennel. They don’t have a good reputation” I bluntly respond.

.

“So I heard. Asher looked into a pup from there about 6 years ago and said it was beyond disgusting. Do you know why people keep getting pups from there?” I can hear the curiosity in his voice.

“Because they make them more accessible. Cheaper prices and more litters. Where I wait a few years between litters in my bitches; they will try and breed theirs once a litter is born.” I scoff. “Honestly, some of us breeders thought about bringing it up to the High Lord. These hounds are the pride of the Autumn Court, and it is shameful to see what that family is doing to those poor hounds.” 

Sadly we couldn’t bring him to the High Lord without more proof. Lyra Heaton had managed to get a hold of one of the pups through a third party noble, and honestly the poor thing wasn’t doing good. It had a lot of health problems when she brought it into her home, and as it got older more concerning problems started showing. Within two years the poor things hips had all but fused together and slowly it was going blind.

“Why haven’t you?” It is an honest question. 

“We needed more solid proof. I have only just managed to get a look at their kennels and the Heaton’s got ahold of a pup. We think that might be enough to get an audience with the High Lord.” 

“When we get home write to the others. I will get you an audience with my father.” If Beron Vanserra loved one thing other than power, it was his beloved hunting dogs. “I think he will be quite interested to hear about what they have been doing.” 

Soon we break through the forest into a charming little town nestled along a river. 

“Welcome To Rivervale, my dear.” Eris looks over to me and gives me a wide smile. 

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[prythianslibrary]

This is @prythianpages. You can find my writing here. I made this little slide blog for all the fics I read & love so I can go back to them ❤️

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O T H E R S E R I E S

Aaron Warner

divider by @cafekitsune

[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]

I'd Be There | Eris x Reader

Eris x Reader | Growing desperate in his search for you, Eris reaches out to Lucien, only to be settled over with more worry.

a/n: This is pt.8 and takes place a bit after the war with Hybern, a time jump from pt.7

warnings: angst, reader is pregnant/ hidden pregnancy trope

The war with Hybern had ended and a small, fragile peace began to settle over Prythian. While others slowly stitched their lives back together, Eris remained torn. That sliver of calm never reached him.

For weeks, he had searched for you. He’d scoured what felt like every corner of Prythian, drained every resource, and even hired a witch skilled in blood and bond magic—just to ensure the letters he wrote and gifts he’d gotten for you would actually find their way to you. He didn’t know where you were, where Azriel had taken you.

Well, he did have a suspicion. 

By the second month, Eris began to lean into the grim possibility that Azriel had hidden you in the one place he could not reach you. Velaris. The city that had been unveiled by Rhysand but still shrouded by ancient wards. Without the High Lord’s blessing, Eris could not so much as step across its borders. At least not without causing further conflict and Eris could not afford to draw attention to himself in that way. Not when so much was at stake now.

He considered approaching Rhysand, even rehearsed the conversation in his head, but doubt held him back. What if Rhysand didn’t even know about you? Speaking your name could expose you… put you and the child you carried in danger.

The night Nesta was thrown at him in the Court of Nightmares confirmed this theory.  If Rhysand had known he had a mate, would he have dared to try and seduce him with Nesta? No. That meant Azriel had kept you hidden. From everyone.

Which led to the next, darker thought: why?

Why had Azriel kept you to himself? What was he planning? What was he hiding? Were you safe? Was the baby? 

Eris’s hands trembled at the thought. Every possibility spiraled, dragged him deeper into the pit of dread he couldn’t escape. He felt caged and utterly useless, pacing the same prison of thoughts over and over again.

And yet, the last image of you he had—the way you'd clung to Azriel like he was your lifeline—it offered a small, bitter balm. You trusted Azriel. As well as the careful way Azriel had looked at you–held you–told Eris what he desperately needed to know. Azriel wouldn’t hurt you.

Still, with every unanswered letter, your silence grew heavier and the weight of uncertainty pressed harder. He teetered closer to the edge, torn between secrecy and the aching need to finally speak your name to anyone who might listen.

Then, he remembered someone. Someone who hadn’t spoken to him in years, but whom he trusted more than Rhysand. Someone who just so happened to reside in Velaris. Someone he’d been longing to reach across the silence to—if only pride hadn’t stood in the way. And now, with desperation outweighing pride, he could only hope his brother could push away his own pride to hear him out.

So Eris wrote to Lucien.

One letter. Then another. And another. He did not beg, but came really close to.

At first, there was nothing. Just silence. The same one that had settled between them years ago—when Lucien fled Autumn. He didn’t expect a reply, considering the loathing stares Lucien still cast his way whenever their paths would cross. Eris couldn’t blame him. If the roles were reversed, Eris might’ve felt the same.

All he could do is cling to the hope that Lucien would eventually answer. And that maybe, just maybe, he’d be willing to hear him out. Not only over you but over everything else.

There were truths Lucien still didn’t know. Secrets that still haunted Eris from that fateful night. That night his brothers had ripped Jesminda from him and killed her in cold blood, right before his eyes, planning to do the same to him. They had always seen the youngest as a threat.

But not Eris.

And what Lucien didn’t know was that Eris had silently worked against their cruel brothers, ensuring Lucien had just enough time to slip free from their deadly grasp. That Tamlin had been tipped off and patrolling the borders, arriving in the nick of time to save Lucien from the same devastating fate as Jesminda’s. Those truths remained buried. For now.

Then, finally, after weeks of waiting, Eris got a reply. It was brief, only the name of a tavern located in Hewn City with a date and time.

Eris found himself in a musty old tavern wedged into the lower cliffs of Hewn City. The cavernous place reeked of damp stone and spilled ale. It was terribly dim, a few flickering lanterns lining the ceiling. Somewhere near the back, a bard plucked out a mournful, off-key tune that made Eris grit his teeth.

“This song that I sing, my friends, is another one… about pain,”

With a sigh, he stepped further inside, even though it made dread settle into his gut. He was uncomfortable being in a place like this, even more with the way he was dressed. He replaced his usual regal fashion for clothes that were threadbare and muted in color.  A rough stubble shadowed his sharp jawline and the unmistakable hollows beneath his amber eyes marked the toll of sleepless nights.

He looked nothing like the future High Lord of Autumn he held himself to be.

Lucien was already there, seated at a far corner table. Unlike him, he hadn’t bothered to dress down. He wore a fine green embroidered jacket that complimented his red hair, which was pulled back into a loose braid, a few strands falling freely to frame the sharp lines of his face.

Eris’s lip twitched at the sight. Some things never change…

Lucien’s golden eye glittered as it tracked Eris’s approach. The younger male leaned back in his chair, sipping from a chipped tankard. “Cauldron above,” he said as Eris dropped into the seat across from him. “You look like utter and complete shit.”

“Thanks. You’re as charming as ever,” Eris replied drily, gaze sweeping in a wary manner across the room before settling back onto the younger male. “It’s… good to see you too.”

Lucien let out a small snort. “Didn’t say it was good to see you. I’m actually surprised you let go of your pride to show up in a place like this and looking like that.”

Eris’s mouth quirked, letting the jab roll off him. “Maybe I left my pride somewhere between month one and letter six.”

A flicker of something—guilt, maybe—passed over Lucien’s face, but it vanished as quickly as it had come. “So, ” Lucien said, setting the tankard down with a thunk. “What is it that you want?”

Eris met his brother’s gaze. “To talk.”

Lucien huffed a dry chuckle. “Since when do you talk? I thought you only schemed and postured.”

Before Eris could reply, a discordant strum of lute strings cut through the air, far too close for comfort. 

“I have a grief and weep in my soul that I can’t hold anymore,” a voice wailed dramatically.

A bard, likely the same one Eris had spotted slinking about earlier, stumbled toward their table. His tattered robes reeked of smoke and sour wine. His teeth were stained and grin was wide and unhinged, despite the sorrowful song he sang.

“Is just that I love her so much but this was my turn to lose.”

Eris stiffened. He shot the bard one of his death glares, hoping to silence him. However, the bard swayed dramatically. He let his lute hang from the strap hung around his neck, extended a hand upwards before slowly extending it towards him.

“And now I have to forget her and tear her out of my soul and of my being.”

With a clenched jaw and no patience for auditory torment, Eris reached into his coat and pulled out a small pouch of coins. His fingers clenched around it as the bard launched into his next line.

“From the love that burns my skin–” 

The pouch hit the bard square in the chest with enough force to knock the wind from him. He stumbled back with a choked squawk, nearly swallowing his own verse. Blinking in surprise, the bard caught the pouch before gravity could claim it. He fixed Eris with a bitter glare of his own.

With a huff and a muttered, “Sore loser, I see” he turned on his heel and continued his song elsewhere, picking his lute back up again.

Eris turned back to Lucien, face pinched and expression unreadable. “His voice was absolutely grating, was it not? I’d pay 500 gold marks if it meant he’d never sing again.”

Lucien raised his brow. He’d seen that look on Eris’s face before. It was subtle. It always was with Eris but Lucien had grown up watching his brother polish that mask of control until it gleamed. And he’d also seen the cracks in it. He knew what it looked like when something, or rather someone, struck a nerve.

“Oh, yes. I’m sure it was just his voice that got to you.”

There was a long pause. The bard’s muffled crooning in the distance—thankfully, a new song—mingled with the dull clinking of tankards and low tavern chatter. Lucien leaned forward slightly, arms crossed over the table. “Well? Let’s not pretend we enjoy each other’s company. Say what you came to say.”

“I need your help,” Eris finally said.

Lucien suspected this much. His russet eye narrowed ever so slightly as he studied Eris, a small worry beginning to settle in his stomach. “Is mother alright?”

“Yes,” Eris answered and then paused. That hesitation alone made Lucien’s stomach knot further.

“Well, she’s the same,” Eris continued, more quietly this time, lips curved into a slight frown.. “No better. No worse. Still missing you, of course.”

Lucien exhaled through his nose, the tightness in his shoulders only easing slightly. Hearing that she still missed him made something ache in his chest. But, knowing that at least she wasn’t doing worse and not in imminent danger, his interest visibly waned. He leaned back again in his seat, reaching lazily for his tankard and casting a sideways glance at the bard.

“Then I can’t imagine what sort of mess would drive you all the way down here.”

Eris exhaled, slowly and heavily. “I have a mate.”

“Okay,” Lucien replied. “And?”

His tone wasn’t mocking, just genuinely confused. A mate? That was… news, yes. But Eris hadn’t accepted to meet in some dingy tavern, half-disguised and stripped of pride, just to make an announcement. Lucien himself had a mate, one that most of Prythian probably knew of by now and not by his own doing.

So why would Eris single him out just to tell him this? Especially after years of being estranged with one another. What does he even say to that? Congrats?

“She’s pregnant and Azriel took her.”

Lucien choked.

He sputtered on his drink, amber ale misting in a fine spray and hitting Eris square in the face. Eris blinked slowly, expression deadpan, as he reached inside his coat to retrieve a monogrammed handkerchief. The only refined thing about him tonight. 

Lucien wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve, still recovering from his spit take and coughing. He didn’t bother to apologize. His russet eye was wide with disbelief, darting over Eris like he was trying to figure out if this was some sick joke.

The tormented look on Eris’s face said otherwise.

“Whose child is it?”

“Mine,” Eris answered gravely, amber eyes swirling with a mix of grief and guilt.

Lucien went still. He’d never seen his older brother like this, so unraveled and vulnerable.  “And Azriel took her?” he repeated, slower this time, as if giving the world a moment to make more sense.

“Yes,” Eris muttered, anger flaring into his tone. “Can you believe it? Stealing one mate wasn’t enough for him. It appears the bastard is making a hobby of it.”

Lucien’s interest was piqued once again. His russet eye gleamed, something dark and contemplative behind it. The bond in his chest stirred like a sleeping beast, roused by the mention of Azriel meddling with the Cauldron’s design.  He felt for Eris, not being able to ignore the quiet desperation beneath Eris’s anger.

“Where did he take her?”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be here asking for your help, dressed like a desperate fool.”

Lucien’s gaze lingered on Eris. “And what makes you think I would know?”

“You live in Velaris, don’t you?”

“Kind of,” Lucien replied with a half-shrug. “But still, I don’t even know who she is.”

Eris didn’t say anything at first. He just reached across the table, slid Lucien’s drink far from him. Then, he finally said your name. 

Lucien’s body jerked in surprise, his chair creaking under the sudden shift. He stared at the older male like he’d grown antlers. “Y/N? As in Varek’s little sister?”

A beat of silence. 

Lucien exhaled, slow and disbelieving, russet eye going wide for what felt like the hundredth time tonight. “There’s no fucking way,” he murmured, more to himself, as he tried to make sense of all of this information. “Y/N slept with you?”

Eris’s eyes narrowed, slightly offended. “Why are you saying it like that?” 

“I’m just shocked she looked at you.”

“Oh, she looked at me, alright.”

Lucien gagged. “Spare me the details.”

Eris’s lips curled faintly, the amusement in his eyes dull beneath layers of exhaustion. For just a moment, it felt like they were back in Autumn. Bickering over nothing. Teasing each other in the small moments between duty and obligation. Before the world became too cold and too unkind.

“Well, now I understand why you didn’t bite when Rhysand dangled Nesta in front of you,” Lucien said. “And why Feyre is insistent on keeping a careful distance between you and Azriel. She’s convinced you two are one breath away from ripping each other apart.” He paused in contemplation. “You have every right to, you know. If he took your mate… you could call for a blood duel.”

Ah, yes. The Blood Duel of Autumn Court. An old tradition, one so sacred and savage that it was only invoked in the most dire of situations. It was a challenge fought to the death, often for honor, vengeance, or defending a mating bond.

Lucien was right. Eris did have every right to summon it.

Perhaps, he would’ve. Azriel was lethal, but Eris was no less. He would win it for you. But to call the duel would mean revealing everything. That he had a mate. That his mate was carrying his child. It would expose you and your unborn child to the very monsters he spent his whole life keeping at bay.

Beron. Jayce. They would pounce at the first hint of weakness. The same way his other brothers did with Lucien—when they slaughtered the female he loved just to torment and punish him.

Eris’s jaw tightened. “It’s not that simple. Even if I survive, the risk of–of losing her is far too great.”

Lucien’s expression shifted. He looked down at the table, brow furrowing as the weight of Eris’s words sank in. He understood. Cauldron, he understood too well. The danger of love in a court ruled by cruelty. The pain of caring too deeply, only for it to be turned against you. He remembered the blood, the fire, the echo of the scream that still haunts his dreams.

“I’m sorry,” Lucien said at last, quiet and genuine.

“I should be the one apologizing,” Eris replied solemnly. “I should’ve done more that night. There’s some things you–”

“Don’t,” Lucien cut in gently, though the warning in his eye was sharp as ever. “Don’t go there right now.”

“Okay,” Eris breathed. He didn’t push. He only hoped that one day, when Lucien was ready—if he was ever ready—he’d let him say the things he should’ve said long ago.

“So what now?” Lucien asked, quick to change the subject away from old, unhealed wounds and back to the present.

So Eris sighed and told Lucien everything. He told him how he fell for you, how he became afraid and pushed you away. How the bond had snapped for him then, and how he came to find out you were pregnant and how Azriel had somehow crept his way into your life. And Lucien listened, the usual walls between them slowly dissolving. 

“I think Azriel took her to Velaris. But I don’t know for sure. I was hoping you’d know something.”

“You do know Azriel and I aren’t exactly having tea and biscuits every morning in Velaris, right? I barely even talk to him.”

Eris gave him a look. A knowing look. Because if his youngest brother thought for one damn second that Eris didn’t know Lucien was keeping tabs on Azriel—especially with Elain in the mix—then Lucien wasn’t half as clever as he believed.

Lucien held that gaze for a long, tense moment before releasing a slow, tired breath.

“She’s not in Velaris.”

The certainty in his voice hit Eris like a blow to the gut. “You’re sure of it?”

“Unfortunately,” Lucien said.

Eris nodded slowly, trusting Lucien’s word.

 “He has an apartment of his own in Velaris but it’s–” Lucien’s nose wrinkled in aversion–”it’s no place for a lady like y/n. No place for anyone, really. His mattress is literally on the floor, the only decorations in that place are the spider’s webs and…” Lucien trailed off, unable to finish.

Clearly, the place Azriel had was not one he used much himself.

“Azriel spends more time at Rhysand’s properties,” Lucien continued. “But Feyre hasn’t mentioned any guests—and I’ve seen no new faces in town. If she’s with him, he’s keeping her very well hidden.”

And that, Eris thought grimly, was exactly what terrified him most. He knew he fucked up and now the distance between you was not just physical, but a fortress built on his own mistakes. Would he ever find you at all? Be able to see you again and beg for forgiveness? And what of the tiny life growing inside you? 

The baby who was a part of him as much as it was a part of you. Would he ever have the chance to meet his own baby and cradle it in his arms?

Leaves crunched beneath Eris’s boots as he moved steadily along a worn path. His hounds were with him. Two padded beside him, their coats gleaming in the late afternoon sun, while the others ran freely, wild with restless energy and chasing scents of the forest. Every so often, one of the two beside him would nose at his hand or glance up as if sensing something in him was off.

And something was.

Eris’s mind was far from the forest. His meeting with Lucien had not soothed any of his worries. If anything, it only exasperated them. More questions than answers. More silence from you. Not only had you not responded to his letters but you seemed to have learned how to shut him out through the bond.

How far along were you now? Was the babe growing well? Had you felt the first flutter of movement in your belly?

Though the weather was constant in Autumn, Eris knew the nights in the Night Court were going to grow colder soon. Would you be warm enough?

If only you'd reply, let him know where to find you. He'd be there in a hurry. He’d be everything you needed, everything he should’ve been from the start. The male you deserved. The father your child deserved. He’d somehow figure it out—how to keep you safe and still never leave your side.

Because it should be him by your side. Not Azriel.

Was Azriel even treating you well? Did he know you preferred chamomile to peppermint and that you never drank tea if it wasn't hot enough? Did he know you hated thunderstorms? Did he--did he kiss your brow when nightmares clung to you in the middle of the night?

Eris's hand clenched around nothing as his thoughts circled tighter, his nails biting into his palm. He hadn’t realized he’d stopped walking until his hounds paused beside him, whining softly. One of them nudged his thigh with a wet nose.

Then, there was movement. A flicker of shadow at the edge of his senses. His hounds stiffened, low growls rumbling in their throats as the others barked sharply, muscles tensing and eyes flashing with alertness.

Eris turned sharply, following their gazes.

Azriel emerged from some trees, shadows forming a protective barrier against his hounds. The shadowsinger raised his hands up slowly. Eris’s brows furrowed as he assessed him.

There was something different about Azriel. Something that had Eris silently commanding his hounds to stand down.

Azriel looked grim and worn, his jaw clenched tight. His shadows were growing frantic, circling him like bees disturbed from their hive. He met Eris's gaze.

And for the first time in a long while, there was no anger in it. No challenge, no icy rage simmering beneath them.

“I need you to come with me now,” he said, his words strained as if forcing the words past a wall inside him. “It’s y/n. She’s–the baby…”

Azriel’s words caught in his throat. He swallowed hard, eyes clouding over with a fierce sense of urgency.

And Eris’s heart sank to his stomach, the silence that followed clawing at him worse than any fear he’d ever faced.

a/n: Fun fact, the song the bard was singing in the tavern scene was one of the songs that inspired this series (translated into English since the original song is in Spanish.) Anyway, any guesses as to where Azriel is keeping you? I've love to hear them or your thoughts in general👀 Sorry not sorry for the cliffhanger, the angst is not ending any time soon. The next part will actually be in reader's POV but you won't find out what's wrong with her until pt. 10 😈

These are the vibes for this pt and pt. 10

The gif attached to this reblog is how I picture Eris looking at Azriel after pt.7

series taglist: @kodafics , @shinyghosteclipse, @marrass, @posierosie, @solanaaaaaaa

@tele86, @bubybubsters, @k-homosapien, @mariaxliliana, @kathren1sky-blog

@anainkandpaper, @icey--stars, @moonlovefairy, @hellohauntedturnstudent, @lucia-valentinaa,

@wrenisrad, @smol-grandpa, @sleepylunarwolf, @63angel, @anuttellaa

@anon1227 @paleidiot @thatacotargirl, @queenoffeysand , @slut4acotar @awkardnerd

@blueroseava , @lovetia , @historygeekqueen , @idk1027 ,@naturakaashi

@blightyblinders , @wolvesnravens , @galaxystern08 , @faeofthemoonandstars , @antisocial-architect

@elisha-chloe, @cwallace02sblog, @randomramblesfanfiction, @moonlitlavenders, @booksnwriting

@sunny1616, @holb32, @gamarancianne, @daemyratwst, @ratgirl2020 @balufy

[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!

[danikamariewrites]

Okay okay! If it hasn’t been requested already… I have to have dating mob!Eris!

Note: WE HAVE OUR FIRST BINGO!!!! Mob!Eris lives in my mind rent free aaallllll the time. My fav mob!eris series is by @thehighladywrites I reread it constantly and you should too.

Reminder that this weekend is the last for headcanon bingo! If you want to play feel free to send in a request🫶🏻

Warnings:

Mob!Eris is old money, like the New England old money aesthetic (am I biased towards this aesthetic bc I’m from the northeast? Yes, yes I am)

He’s def very possessive of his partner

Very ‘touch her and you die’ vibes

Eris is very put together. He rarely lets anyone see beneath the mask he wears

He’s such a strong person and it took you a long time to show him that it was ok to take off the mask and just be a person

It took you almost leaving for Eris to understand

The day you told him you should break up it was over the phone—it was your only option because he was so focused and when he’s focused nothing can stop him—Eris almost dropped to his knees

He won you back by showing up at your doorstep with your favorite snacks, drinks, and the promise to change

The knock on your door was desperate and fast. You knew it was Eris without even looking out the window. Rolling your eyes, ready to tell him to leave, you open the door to see the man you know to be so composed looked like he’d been up for a week straight. Eris looked paler and his hair was a mess. In his hand was a large bouquet of your favorite flowers and a grocery bag. “Eris,” you sigh. “Please, let me say what I need to and if your mind is made up…I will leave.” That last part seemed like it physically pained him. You gesture for him to continue. “Y/n, I love you more than I thought I was able to love a person. I was afraid to let you in because…because I didn’t want to lose you. Everything in my life comes at a cost and I can’t pay with you. But, shutting you out like I have been, that’s not right my love. And I’m so sorry. Please, I will do anything for a second chance.” You throw your arms around him, whispering an “oh Eris”. You drag him inside where you stay cuddled up all night talking and just being with each other.

And change he did

Eris let you in his life more

When you tell him “I love you” it still gets him. No matter how many times you tell him Eris will never get used to it

He will tell you he loves you until he’s blue in the face

When Eris loves it’s with his whole heart. There’s no half adding a relationship for him (a realization that came with almost letting you get away)

You’re a strong person and you aren’t afraid of any aspect of his life. You can’t be with his line of work

Eris trains you to fight, to handle any kind of weapon, and makes sure when you shoot you never miss

You become truly lethal and Eris couldn’t be more proud

Eris lllooovvveeessss to spoil you

You’re part of his family, his whole world revolves around you, what kind of man would Eris be if he looked perfect and you didn’t

All the best jewelry, high end clothes and shoes, handbags everything is yours

But you still favor your comfy clothes when you’re just at home

Speaking of home….Eris’s house is HUGE!!! It’s not even a house it’s a mansion

When you started dating you hung out at your place for the first few months (Eris needed to know if he could trust you before telling you everything)

Once he brought you over your jaw dropped and stayed on the floor through the whole tour

When Eris asked you to move in and you said yes you had never seen him smile so big

Eris ended up taking a few days off when you moved in and he was soooo clingy, telling you how happy he is that you’re here

Eris does like to keep his work life and home life separate as much as he can

But who is he to deny you when you just want to learn about his job

And you give good advice, so he’ll always listen to you

You don’t like being around him when he’s super busy. When Eris is focused you don’t like to disturb him (sometimes you can’t help it)

You like to sit in one of the arm chairs on the other side of Eris’s desk. You’re on your laptop typing away or shopping with his credit card or catching up on your shows

Eris likes to interrupt you when you do this. If you’re in his office he should be able to

“Come here my love.” His deep voice breaks you away from your screen. Smirking at him you round the corner of his desk to stand between his legs. Eris grabs your hips, placing you in his desk. He stands, holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger. Leaning in Eris presses a long kiss to your lips. “Have I ever told you how much I love you?” He murmurs. “Hmm, not today.” You smile against his lips as he kisses you again, leaning you to lay flat. “I love you more than you can imagine.”

Your wedding is the event of the spring

Def a destination wedding with a huge guest list

And of course your engagement ring is the brightest diamond Eris could find

He wanted it to be able to blind people in the dark

You had only seen Eris tear up a handful of times. When he saw you walk down the aisle Eris couldn’t help but beam at you as tears roll down his cheeks

Once you’re married he won’t stop calling you Mrs. Vanserra or ‘my wife’ or ‘my little wife’ and you blush every time

[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.

[daycourtofficial]

It’s just to satiate the bond

Pairing: Eris x Rhysand’s sister!reader | WC: 2.3k | warnings: smut, piv, oral (f!receiving)

Summary: an agreement to have sex just to satiate a mating bond neither party wants is a great idea. Surely no one will get hurt, right?

Author’s note: this is part of my gingerfucker series but can be read by itself 😌 the next part is here

Her teeth were grinding as she walked down the hallway, her steps getting faster, trying to put as much distance from her and the large meeting room. She had to get away, she had to hide. She moved further away from the gathering of High Lords, pushing her instincts down, down, down as she went.

It was ridiculous how her body was reacting to just being in his presence, being so close to her mate. She shook her head, angrily trying to dispel that word from it.

Her ears twitched at the sound of quick steps behind her, nearly catching up to her. She quickened her pace, almost breaking out into a run, but the male that had followed her was quick to push her into an open door, shutting it behind them.

“What the fuck, Eris? Let me out of here.”

Eris stood blocking the door, not letting her move past him. Her arms reached for the knob before quickly being swatted away.

“No.”

“What is wrong with you?” She huffed out the question, not expecting much of a reply.

“Me? What is wrong with you?”

“I’m mated to an asshole.” Being so close to him was making her head spin, his scent of whiskey and smoke made her heart rate pick up.

His amber eyes danced with amusement. “Surely you understand mates are equals, so whatever I am, so are you.”

“You are a child.”

“You are the one who ran away.”

“To get away from you!”

“How did that work out for you, princess?”

He was grating on her, annoyance causing her teeth to grind again. She tried taking in a deep breath, hoping it would calm her nerves.

“It’d work better if you weren’t keeping me in here.” Her voice attempted to make the words sweet, missing the mark they came out with too much bite.

“I have a proposition.” It was difficult being this close to him. She picked up nearly every detail about him in this proximity: the freckles that trailed beneath the color of his shirt, wondering if they continued further down. The faint scent of what must be his hounds that clung to him. The necklaces that hung from his neck, draping over ornate fabrics she wanted to run her fingers over.

“We are both less than thrilled at this mating, however I am sure you are having urges that can’t be satisfied by anyone else or yourself.” His words pulled her from the visual inspection, looking up at him to find her distraction didn’t go unnoticed.

She moved her hands across her chest, fingers tapping her elbows. She didn’t want to admit how right he was - even the sight of other males made her want to gag. Nothing and no one had satiated the intense need that thrummed inside of her since it made itself known to her.

She nodded at him to continue, but he merely stared at her. Exasperated, she finally asked, “how do you suggest we go about fixing that?”

“We need to convince our bond we are happy.”

Our bond. The words struck something primal in her, some deep desire she had to be with him.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Don’t think I can’t feel you in my chest in the middle of the night.”

“And what of it? Do the males of Autumn not want their females to know sexual desire? Rather it be unpleasant for her?”

Eris growled, the sound shooting heat through her.

“I can do more with my tongue than any male in the Night Court can do with their cocks.”

His scent was suffocating, the air around her coated with him. It was surely making her delirious, surely the only reason she heard herself saying, “prove it”.

Those two words, spoken an exhale, was all it took for the Autumn heir to move quickly.

He buried his face in her chest, his teeth nipping at the exposed skin of the tops of her breasts. A soft moan escaped from her mouth, his face tilting just enough for his amber eyes to show. He looked like a true predator as starving, wolfish eyes looked back at her.

He lifted her, grabbing the backs of her thighs to hoist her around his hips before she felt the wall hit her back. There was no time to object as he stuffed two of his fingers into her mouth.

“Hush now, Princess. Would hate for your moans to expose us.” Heat pooled in her stomach at his smirk.

Eris didn’t let himself think about what he was doing as he undid the ties on his pants. He didn’t think as he slid her panties to the side, sliding his fingers through her wet folds. He bit back the groan that was making its way up his throat at how wet she was. He didn’t think as he lined his cock up to her entrance, something inside him desperate to keep her gaze on him as he did so.

He watched her violet eyes widen as he sheathed himself inside of her, nearly coming undone himself at how perfect she felt around him.

He wouldn’t think about his previous sexual encounters, never caring about who he was with. Sex was transactional, a means to an end. This was to satiate the godsdamned bond thrumming between the two of them.

He would never admit to her he had taken all his previous lovers from behind, never caring to watch them. Never admit to the stirring his cock felt watching her eyes close, swallowing her moans.

Eris felt himself getting close to that high, felt it creeping through his body as his thrusts got sloppier.

He had to take control, couldn’t allow this weakness. His fingers held her jaw tightly. , examining her eyes with each thrust.

“I hate you,” she gritted out, teeth grinding.

He thrusted hard into her, his gaze seering as he watched her eyes roll back.

“You hate me so, and yet you buck like a common whore for my prick.” His hair was falling into his face, his punishing pace making it harder to concentrate.

“Do you ever stop talking? You’d be much more likable if you did.” Her voice was high and breathy, something inside him knowing just how close she was. Their mixed arousal was pinging throughout his chest, a sensation he had never felt before.

“You weren’t worried about likability when you started dripping on my cock.”

“Fuck you.” Her eyes were closed, searching for every ounce of pleasure he was giving her.

“Aren’t you already?” Hushed words were sending both of them closer to that edge, each desperate to land just one more barb. The arrogance in Eris’s tone sent her spiraling, pleasure ripping through her in uncontrollable waves.

Eris was furiously pumping into her as she milked his cock, her high cresting as he met his own. Between their shared orgasm, there was a split second their eyes met. The vulnerability of what they just did passed through the glance, and then it was gone, locked away deep in both their souls.

Eris’s head met her shoulder, struggling to catch his breath.

“Winded there, Lord?”

He growled at the question, his fingers quickly gripping tight to her before immediately letting go. He pulled back from her, the loss of contact making his chest go heavy. His fingers quickly redid the ties of his pants, a hand moving through his long hair.

The only sound was their labored breaths, filling the room with the knowledge that they could not go back. A fact neither of them would accept.

She moved her skirts back down, desperate to cover that seed that ran down her inner thighs.

Eris moved to the door, his back to her enough for him to bring his fingers to his mouth, swirling his tongue around the remnants of her arousal on it.

-

“It’s just to satiate the bond.” The lie fell from her lips, something she had been telling herself over and over again over the past few weeks since that first time with Eris.

“Do you like how the bond makes you hot for me?”

The pain from the tree against her face was nothing compared to how good each of his thrusts felt.

Her fingers dug into the tree, desperate for some bit of reality to cling to. It felt absurd how common this occurrence was - meeting almost weekly now just to keep the bond inside from exploding.

It was ridiculous how many nights she spent in her bed, her fingers not enough to satisfy her as her mind drifted to the male behind her.

“Better than being eternally sad over you.”

A chuckle came from him before he thrusted deep inside her, his fingers a tight grip over her hips she was sure was going to bruise.

“How would Rhysand react to finding out his precious sister has been reduced to little more than a common whore?”

“Don’t tell me you have to think of my brother in order to get off, hmm?”

His pace was punishing at her words, their back and forths doing more to him than he wished to admit.

Long fingers wrapped around her neck, tilting her head back just enough for her to see his amber eyes full of lust. She couldn’t stop the moan coming from her mouth at the intensity of his gaze, how just the sight of his eyes and one swift thrust of his hips sent her toppling over the edge of pleasure.

His pace quickened, his thrusts working her through her orgasm until he pulled her as close as possible, emptying himself inside of her.

Eris kept looking at her, his gaze focused as she tried to catch her breath. With more effort than he anticipated, he pulled his hands away from her, helping her straighten herself off the tree.

He moved her skirts, helping her straighten them out. His hand met her waist, an almost tender touch before he quickly pulled it away.

“Next time don’t make any plans afterward. You reek of sex and have the markings to prove it.” His fingers pointed at his own face, showing a line where the bark had made indentions into her skin.

He waited, not saying anything, only nodding at her before winnowing away, leaving her stranded in the woods, confused and alone.

-

“I just need a taste.”

Eris Vanserra was kneeling on the ground before her, his body disappearing beneath her skirts. He was not gentle as he grabbed her leg, throwing it over his shoulder.

“Er-oh.” Protestations die on her tongue as his mouth latched onto her cunt, his tongue pressing against the cloth of her underwear.

Her strained ears could barely make out his grumbling about “coming unprepared”, his voice muffled as his tongue made long, sweeping strokes through her folds.

He was pressing his weight into her, the only thing keeping her upright against the tree as he held her in place. The woods were echoing with the obscene sounds from underneath her skirt, but she could not care less.

Suddenly Eris grabbed her other leg, leaving her hoisted against the tree, his neck her only support.

She couldn’t hold in the obscene noises coming from her mouth. One of Eris’s hands let go of her thighs and she could hear him fiddling with the ties of his pants.

“Eris, you filthy thing. Are you touching yourself while you eat me out?”

A growl was all her retort was met with, a bite to her clit making her practically climb up the tree.

He was moaning into her, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through her.

A biting quip was on the tip of her tongue, replaced by a moan as Eris’s fingers pushed the cloth to the side, rubbing his nose through her folds. His usual sharp tongue laid flat as he licked a long stripe across her heat. She shuddered at the sensation, trying to hold off her orgasm for as long as possible. The bond inside her was thrumming, bursting with joy at being pleasured by her mate.

Her hips were desperate as they rode across his face, thighs squeezing his head to keep him in place.

The sound of Eris pumping his cock into his hand was pushing her past her limits, their weekly rendezvous leading her to know exactly how it felt in her chest when he came.

Her high was quickly squashed as he pulled away from her, causing her to fall unceremoniously onto the ground. She let out a soft gasp, both pain and surprise unable to be contained.

“What are you-“ She looked up, chastisement at the ready, only to find her mate gone, nowhere to be found. She stood on shaky legs, using the tree as a support, not wanting to admit the disappointment that followed her as she left.

-

The ground was wet beneath her skirts, the tree biting into her back as she waited. The air was cold and uninviting, as if no one should be out in it without a coat or a lover’s embrace. She tried to ignore the heaviness in her chest, telling herself, “it’s fine.”

She waited. Minutes quickly turned into an hour, the moon high in the clearing above. Goosebumps ran up and down her arms at the late hour. The bond hummed lightly in her chest, nerves too strong to find out the consequences of pulling it.

Were these daliances getting to her, meaning much more than they should? He was supposed to arrive hours ago. He had never left her waiting this long.

Worry consumed her, but the everpresent bond assured her that he was out there somewhere, fine with the distance that lay between them.

She had never waited this long for a male to show up to a date before. She stopped that line of thinking quickly, shutting it down. Reminding herself this is not a date.

She sighed, rejection and embarrassment coming off her in waves. Her chest felt hollow as she looked about the clearing one last time, desperate for any sign she missed him before winnowing far, far away.

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Thanks for reading ❣️ here’s part two

[bookwormjust]

Hidden pregnancy (established relationship Eris, protective hound)

You’ve noticed it for the past few weeks—Eris’s chief hound, the leader of the pack, has become more possessive, hovering around you constantly. His behavior has shifted from his usual loyalty to something far more intense. He never leaves your side, growling at anyone who comes too close, even Eris on occasion. At first, you found it endearing, but now, the overprotectiveness is becoming hard to ignore.

You’re in the sitting room of your shared estate in the Autumn Court, lounging by the fire. The hound lies at your feet, his golden eyes fixed on you with a sharp, almost vigilant focus. Anytime you move, he’s right there, nudging at you gently as if to keep you still. It’s almost as if he knows something you don’t.

Eris had been busy, as usual, with the duties of being the High Lord, but today he finally found time to join you for a rare moment of peace. He enters the room, his fiery hair catching the light, and as soon as he steps toward you, the chief hound growls low, his massive body shifting to block Eris’s approach.

“Again?” Eris mutters, eyebrows raised as he glances between you and the hound, a mixture of amusement and mild frustration in his amber eyes. “He’s been acting like this for weeks. What’s gotten into him?”

You shake your head, resting your hand on the hound’s massive shoulder. “I don’t know. He’s just... more protective than usual.” You give the hound a reassuring pat, trying to calm his overprotective instincts, but he remains tense, standing between you and Eris like a sentinel.

Eris sighs, walking around the hound cautiously, his gaze softening as it falls on you. “Has anything felt different?” he asks, sitting beside you and taking your hand gently. “Any reason he might be sensing something?”

You shrug, leaning into Eris’s touch. “I’ve been a little tired, but I thought it was just stress. You’ve been busy, I’ve been restless—maybe he’s picking up on that.”

Eris watches you closely, his brows knitting together in thought. His hand moves to your cheek, gently tilting your head to meet his gaze. “You’ve been more than tired. I can tell.”

Before you can respond, the hound lets out another low growl, his nose twitching as he presses closer to you, almost nuzzling your abdomen. You laugh softly, though the possessiveness in his eyes makes you feel slightly unsettled. “See what I mean?” you say, gesturing toward the hound. “He’s never this intense.”

Eris is silent for a moment, his sharp gaze flicking from the hound to you. Slowly, his eyes narrow, his posture stiffening. “Wait...”

His nostrils flare slightly as he leans closer, inhaling deeply, his focus entirely on your scent now. His eyes widen suddenly, and you see the shock and realization wash over him, his usual calm composure faltering.

“By the Cauldron...” he breathes, his voice low, filled with awe and disbelief. “You’re pregnant.”

You blink at him, stunned, your heart racing. “What? No, I—I couldn’t be...”

But before you can finish the sentence, the truth of it hits you. The exhaustion, the small changes in your body you’d brushed off—all of it suddenly makes sense. Your hand instinctively moves to your stomach, where the hound had been so possessively guarding.

Eris reaches out, his hand gently covering yours, his expression softening with a mixture of joy and concern. “He knew before I did,” he says, glancing at the hound, who is now lying at your feet, his head resting protectively on your lap, watching both of you with sharp, possessive eyes.

You’re still processing the news, your mind spinning. “How is that possible? It’s too early—”

“Fae hounds are attuned to life in ways we aren’t,” Eris says softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “He sensed it before your scent changed enough for me to detect it.”

You look down at the hound, a new understanding settling over you. His protectiveness, his possessiveness—it wasn’t just instinct, it was his way of guarding the new life growing inside you, something he had known long before either you or Eris.

Tears prick at your eyes as you meet Eris’s gaze, overwhelmed by the sudden realization. “We’re going to have a baby.”

Eris smiles, a rare, genuine warmth in his expression as he leans forward to kiss your forehead. “Yes, we are,” he whispers, his voice full of love and wonder. “And he’s already started guarding both of you, hasn’t he?”

The hound lets out a soft huff, as if in agreement, settling more comfortably by your side, his head resting protectively against your stomach.

Eris wraps his arms around you, holding you close, his lips brushing the top of your head. “I promise, I’ll protect you both with everything I have.”

And with his hound at your side, you know he means every word.

[surielstea]

Embers Entwined

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Fem!Reader

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

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

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

Word count: 7.9k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Do you not wish to dance?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Correct, my lord."

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

I nodded.

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

Another nod.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I stiffened.

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

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

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

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

He was also undeniably beautiful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I did not look away. I refused to.

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

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

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

A calculated move. A display of power.

And yet—his lips were warm. Gentle.

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

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

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

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

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

I hated it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eris Vanserra, High Lord of Autumn.

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

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

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

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

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

I blinked. "My name?"

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

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

Company. Was this a game? A test?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I swallowed.

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

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

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

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

"Eris," he corrected.

I hesitated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Minutes passed. Then—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I stiffened, his words striking something deep within me.

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

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

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

But there was no trick. Only a High Lord—no, a male—focused on his work, offering me something I had never once been granted in Beron's court.

Peace.

I swallowed, forcing myself to look away, to ignore the unfamiliar warmth creeping into my bones.

Minutes passed again in silence, but this time, it didn't feel quite so heavy.

"I was serious, you know," Eris mused, not bothering to look up as he broke the quiet.

I frowned. "About what?"

"Keeping my company." He flipped to another document, signing something at the bottom. "I'd prefer your presence over my advisors any day. They're old and dull. You, at least, have some spirit."

I scoffed. "I think you are confusing obedience for spirit."

"Oh no, my dear." His lips curved in a knowing smirk. "You and I both know you're anything but obedient."

I bristled, opening my mouth to argue, but he held up a hand. "It's alright. I find it... refreshing."

I wasn't sure what unsettled me more—the implication, or the way my stomach twisted at his words. Beron preferred all the servantry to have a fiery spirit, which makes it more fun to break, but he never really could stomp my flames out, and now Eris was sparking the embers. It was dangerous, so dangerous.

Silence fell between us once more.

For a moment, I thought that would be the end of it. That I would sit there, a piece of furniture in this room while he worked, just as I had been in Beron's court.

But then, without looking away from his parchment, Eris murmured, "Tell me something, Fawn."

The way he said that nickname—so deliberate, like he was testing the way it felt on his tongue—sent something sharp down my spine.

"Tell you what?" I asked carefully.

He leaned back slightly, fingers steepled in thought. "Something real."

I hesitated. "That's vague."

"Intentionally so." He arched a brow. "Consider it a challenge."

I narrowed my eyes at him, but he only waited, watching me with that same expectant look, as if he truly wanted to hear something about me.

I exhaled. "I don't like the cold."

His lips twitched. "A courtier of Autumn who doesn't like the cold? Shocking, really." His voice was sarcastic, but something in his eyes told me he knew what I meant.

I shrugged, explaining anyway. "It reminds me of your father." The words left me before I could stop them, before I could think better of them.

Eris didn't flinch, but something in his expression shifted. "I hate the cold, too," he admitted after a beat.

I blinked, caught off guard by his honesty.

He returned his attention to the paper in front of him, but his next words were soft, almost contemplative.

"It's why I keep the fire going."

And despite everything I had come to know about Eris Vanserra—despite everything I feared—those words stayed with me long after I left his study that night.

It became routine.

Every evening, after the day's duties were done, I was summoned to Eris's study. At first, I had thought it was some kind of test, some trick to lull me into a false sense of security before he reminded me of my place. But the days passed, and the cruel words never came. The taunts never sharpened into something harsher.

Instead, I found myself sitting across from him as he worked, the fire crackling between us, filling the silence in ways neither of us felt the need to.

And I was learning things.

Not just about him—but about myself.

I learned that despite being raised under Beron's thumb, Eris did not rule with a hand of iron. He listened—to his advisors, to the reports of the court, to me, even. And when I spoke, he truly listened, as if my words meant something.

More recently I learned that he was—Gods help me—attractive.

That fact had been easy enough to ignore when I hated him, when I thought he was just another Beron in the making. But the more time I spent with him, the more I noticed things I shouldn't—like the sharp angles of his face, the golden hue of his eyes, the way his hands moved across parchment with effortless precision.

It was incredibly inappropriate.

He was a High Lord, for the Gods' sake. I was a mere servant. A courtier, yes, but still beneath him in every sense of the word.

But there were moments—subtle, fleeting—where I felt that he didn't see it that way.

Like when he'd catch me staring and smirk, as if he knew exactly where my thoughts had gone. Like when his fingers would brush against mine as he handed me a book, a touch so brief it might have been an accident, but my traitorous body knew better. Like when he said my name—not the way Beron used to, as if I were an object, a thing that existed for his whims, but as if I were someone worth hearing.

It was dangerous. He was dangerous. And yet, I kept returning to his study, night after night, drawn to him in ways I did not understand.

I was comfortable around him now. Too comfortable. And I wasn't sure if that terrified me or eased me more.

The fire crackled behind him, casting golden light over the room as I sat at his desk, scanning over the trade agreements he had asked me to review. Eris stood in front of the hearth, a glass of whiskey in his hand, watching the flames with a contemplative expression.

"They're bleeding the smaller villages dry," I murmured, flipping to the next page. "The tariffs are nearly double what they should be."

Eris hummed in response, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "And what do you suggest, fawn?" His voice was rich, edged with amusement.

I exhaled sharply through my nose, biting back a smile at the teasing lilt in his tone. "Lowering them would be a start."

He took a slow sip of whiskey, then turned, his gaze burning even hotter than the fire behind him. "Very well. Lower them."

I blinked. "Just like that?"

"Just like that." He smirked, as if amused by my surprise. "You have a sharp mind. It would be a waste not to use it."

A compliment. A genuine one.

I busied myself with the documents, ignoring the warmth that curled in my stomach. But before I could shift to the next matter, I felt it—him.

The space between us disappeared in a breath. Eris leaned over my shoulder, one hand bracing against the desk as he peered down at the papers with me.

His warmth seeped through the thin fabric of my dress, his scent—smoke, cedar, spice—curling around me, intoxicating. I stiffened, my fingers tightening around the quill.

"See?" His voice was softer now, smooth like velvet. "That wasn't so hard."

I swallowed, forcing my focus back to the parchment. "I assume the next set of reports won't be as easy."

His chuckle was low, deep. "Unfortunately, no."

We worked through the rest of it together, his proximity never wavering, his breath occasionally ghosting against my cheek as he murmured his thoughts. It should have been unbearable. It was unbearable. And yet, I didn't pull away.

Not even when he poured me a glass of whiskey.

I had refused at first, telling him I was technically working but he had simply raised an eyebrow and said, "I won't tell the high lord if you don't."

It burned going down, leaving warmth in its wake, emboldening me just enough to loosen the tight grip I always held on myself.

Perhaps that was why, when we finally leaned back in our chairs, the tension of duty momentarily relieved, I dared to meet his gaze with something close to ease.

"You're a better High Lord than I expected," I admitted, surprising myself with the honesty.

He turned his glass between his fingers, watching me over the rim. "High praise, coming from you."

I rolled my eyes, but the smallest of smiles played at my lips. "Don't let it go to your head."

"Too late," he quipped, grinning.

I shook my head, but I wasn't fast enough to hide the way my lips twitched in amusement.

Eris noticed. Of course, he did. And he leaned in slightly, eyes gleaming. "Careful, fawn. Keep looking at me like that, and I'll think you actually enjoy my company."

I should have ignored the remark. Should have cut the moment short, should have reminded myself that this was Eris, that I was his courtier and nothing more.

But the whiskey hummed in my blood, and I found myself tilting my chin up slightly, arching a brow.

"Who said I don't?"

His gaze darkened, a flicker of something wicked dancing in those golden eyes.

The air between us tightened, the tension shifting into something heavier, something dangerous.

And for the first time, I wasn't entirely sure if I wanted to run from it.

The room was suffocating with heat—not just from the fire, but from him. From the way he looked at me, like he could see through every carefully placed wall I had built around myself.

I should have left. Should have bowed my head, murmured a polite good night, and returned to the servantry quarters where I belonged.

But I didn't.

Instead, I stayed, rooted in place, watching the way Eris's eyes flickered between my lips and my eyes. The tension stretched unbearably tight, wound so thin that one more word, one more breath, would surely snap it.

And then it did.

One moment, we were speaking, our words slow and softened by whiskey. The next—I was in his arms, and his mouth was on mine.

It was a collision, a wildfire consuming everything in its path.

His lips were searing, his hands gripping my waist as if he couldn't bear to let go, pulling me flush against him. I gasped into the kiss, and he took full advantage, deepening it, his tongue sweeping over mine in a way that made my knees threaten to buckle.

He groaned, low and guttural, and something inside me snapped.

I met his fervor with my own, fingers tangling in his hair, feeling the silk of it between my fingertips as he backed me into the desk. The papers we had worked so hard on crumpled beneath us, utterly forgotten.

He exhaled a quiet curse against my lips as his hands gripped my hips tighter, and I—I didn't stop him. I arched into him, into the warmth, the danger of it.

And then—it happened.

A tether snapped into place.

Invisible, undeniable, unyielding.

My entire body locked up as a force stronger than anything I had ever known latched onto my very soul. The bond—a mating bond—solidified between us like molten steel cooling into iron, a force so absolute it stole the air from my lungs.

No, no, no.

I stumbled back so fast I nearly tripped over my own feet, my hand flying to my lips as if I could erase what had just happened.

Eris reached for me, eyes wide, something dangerously close to awe written across his sharp features. "Wait—"

But I didn't.

I turned and ran.

I ignored the way his voice followed me, calling my name, ignored the way my heart thundered in my chest, the way my mind screamed at me that this was impossible, that it couldn't be real, that it shouldn't be real.

Because if it was—if it was real—then it meant I was bound to him. To him.

Not just the male who had been slipping under my skin, infiltrating the cold emptiness I had built to protect myself. But Beron's son. Beron's heir. A Vanserra. A High Lord.

By the time I reached the servantry quarters, my breaths were ragged, my hands shaking as I shoved my door closed behind me, locking it with trembling fingers.

I pressed my back against the wood, squeezing my eyes shut.

This couldn't be happening. It was a mistake. A trick. A cruel, cruel joke.

I was nothing.

A courtier, a servant.

I did not get to have mates.

And certainly not him.

I curled onto my cot, my hands gripping the fabric of my dress as if I could anchor myself back to reality. I forced my breathing to slow, willed myself to forget the feeling of his lips, the taste of whiskey on his tongue, the way his hands had fit so perfectly against my waist.

I did not sleep that night.

I had been avoiding him.

Days had passed, and I hadn't stepped foot in his study again. I hadn't so much as looked in his direction, even as the court whispered about me, about us, about the undeniable scent of a bond snapping into place.

They all knew.

I could feel their stares, the pity in some, the amusement in others. I knew what they thought—that it was only a matter of time before I bent, before I folded myself into the neat little role fate had carved out for me at Eris's side.

I refused.

I stayed tucked away, keeping to my duties, bowing as I always had when in his presence, keeping my head low, silent. I had done it for years under Beron. I could do it again.

Or at least, I thought I could.

The bond had other plans.

It had been clawing at me, a sick, twisting thing in my chest, gnawing at my ribs every time I kept my distance. The more I ignored it, the worse it became, a restless, aching pressure that built until my hands trembled with the need to do something—run to him, scream, sob. I didn't know which.

I was too caught up in my own mind, too focused on fighting the invisible thread tethering me to him, that I didn't notice the male approaching me until it was too late.

"You've been rather elusive, haven't you?"

I turned sharply, expecting him, expecting Eris—

But it wasn't him.

It was Kyden.

My stomach twisted.

Kyden Vanserra had always taken the most after Beron compared to the rest of his brothers, cruel for the sake of cruelty, sneering down at those he deemed beneath him. Which unfortunately included me.

His smirk was slow, predatory. "I almost mistook you for one of the nobility, standing there all stiff and proper. But then I remembered—you're just a servant, aren't you?"

I forced my body not to react, not to let the memories claw their way up my throat. He had that same look in his tawny eyes that Beron always had on one of the particularly hard days.

Kyden stepped closer, voice a lazy drawl. "And yet, despite your lowly position, you managed to ensnare a High Lord." His lips curled, eyes gleaming with something dark. "Or rather, the bond did. Funny, isn't it? How fate makes fools of us all."

I kept my chin high, my hands at my sides. I would not cower.

He leaned in, his breath brushing against my ear. "You reek of him."

I flinched. Kyden chuckled. "It's amusing, really. Eris, of all people, shackled to someone like you." His gaze flickered over me, assessing, and I knew that look—I had seen it before, a lifetime ago, picking apart my worth, deciding how best to use me.

"What do you think he'll do?" Kyden mused. "Surely, you don't believe he'll actually keep you. A High Lord's mate should be powerful, worthy." He tutted. "You are neither."

The words hit their mark, sinking into my skin like tiny blades, because deep down I knew he was right. This is why I've been avoiding Eris, avoiding having that confrontation that will only result in rejection and sorrow.

"I wonder," he continued, tilting his head, "how long it will take before he grows bored of you. Before he realizes you're nothing more than the same little courtier Beron used to—"

A deep, guttural snarl split the air.

And then Kyden was no longer in my space, no longer crowding me like a looming shadow.

Eris had him by the collar, dragging him back, his teeth bared in a vicious snarl beside his brother's throat.

"Say another word," Eris hissed, voice like fire crackling over dry wood, "and I will tear out your fucking tongue."

Kyden, to his credit, did not flinch. He only grinned. "Touched a nerve, did I?"

Eris's fingers tightened, the flames in the nearby sconces flaring wildly.

"Walk away, Kyden," Eris said, voice quieter now, deadlier. "I raised you better than this."

A beat of silence. Then Kyden huffed a laugh, shoving Eris off him with a roll of his shoulders.

"As you wish, brother." He turned to me, and there was something smug in his eyes, something knowing. "See you around, little courtier."

And then he was gone.

Eris exhaled harshly, running a hand through his hair before turning to me.

"Are you—"

I shook my head, stepping back. "Don't."

His jaw tensed.

I couldn't do this. Not here. Not now.

The hallway was silent except for the distant clatter of pots and the hushed murmurs of servants slipping past us, their eyes darting away the moment they caught sight of Eris. I could still feel the ghost of Kyden's words slithering over my skin, the way he had looked at me, spoken to me. But more than that—I could feel the weight of Eris's gaze, burning into me as if he were unraveling every thought in my head.

I didn't want to look at him. Didn't want to feel the way I did when he looked at me.

His amber eyes flickered with something unreadable, something heavy and tense. He hadn't moved since Kyden left, his hands clenched at his sides, as if he was still fighting the urge to chase his brother down and finish what he started.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. We stood nearly a yard away from each other in the servants' passages, the house was so vast that to get from place to place quicker in the manor there were secret paths to take. It was odd for the High Lord to even know about them.

I swallowed hard, then whispered, "Why are you here?"

Eris blinked, as if startled by the question. And then, with the ghost of a smirk, he drawled, "It's my house, isn't it?"

I narrowed my eyes. "You know what I mean."

More silence.

His smirk faded.

"I was looking for you," he admitted finally.

I stared at him, heart hammering against my ribs. "You could've called for me."

His expression darkened, and he took a step closer. "Would you have come?"

I said nothing.

He huffed a bitter laugh. "That's what I thought."

I clenched my hands into fists, nails biting into my palms. "It's my job, Eris," I whispered.

His jaw flexed. His fingers twitched—like he wanted to reach for me, wanted to touch me—but he didn't. Instead, he just stood there, looking more defeated than I'd ever imagined a Vanserra could.

"Can we go somewhere more private?" I asked, my voice quieter now, because we were standing a distance apart with maids and cooks scuttling silently past us, pretending they weren't listening, pretending they couldn't see the invisible string between us.

Eris studied me for a long moment, then nodded. Without another word, he turned on his heel, leading the way.

I followed.

The room he brought me to was small, tucked away in one of the unused wings of the estate. A study, maybe, or a reading room—the kind of place someone could go to disappear.

He shut the door behind me, and then we were alone.

Eris exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. "Are you alright?"

I let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "I don't know."

His jaw tightened. "Kyden—"

"I don't want to talk about Kyden."

He stared at me for a moment, then nodded. "Then talk to me about something else."

I let out a breath. "About what, Eris?"

He stepped closer, slow and careful, as if I were something fragile. "About why you've been avoiding me."

I scoffed. "You know why."

"I want to hear you say it."

I met his gaze, and the heat in his eyes sent a shiver down my spine. "Because this—" I gestured between us. "—isn't supposed to happen. Because you're a High Lord, and I'm a servant, and this bond—" I swallowed hard. "It's cruel."

Eris's expression was unreadable, but his fingers twitched again, and I wondered if he even realized he kept doing that—kept stopping himself from touching me. "You think the Mother is cruel?"

I hesitated. "I think fate is."

Eris exhaled through his nose, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "Do you hate it that much?"

I didn't answer.

Did I?

Hate was easy. Hate was something I understood, something I could hold onto. Hate had kept me alive under Beron's rule, had hardened me, protected me.

But this? This tether between us, this thing that hummed in my chest, that made my body ache to close the distance between us—

I didn't have a name for it. And that scared me more than anything.

Eris watched me carefully, as if searching for something in my expression. He let out another sigh and retreated, taking a seat on the small leather couch adjacent to the popping fireplace. I watched him silently, still standing by the door.

"I never wanted this either," he admitted, voice softer now. "I spent years ensuring I would never be bound to someone who could be used against me. And yet..." His lips quirked into something bitter. "Yet here we are."

My throat felt tight. "Do you hate it?"

His amber eyes burned. "No."

The breath I took was unsteady.

"You never answered?" he looked up at me.

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Shook my head. "I don't know."

Eris nodded once, as if that answer was enough.

Silence stretched between us again.

Finally, he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "You don't have to accept it," he said. "Not now. Not ever, if that's what you choose." He met my gaze, something like resignation flickering in his eyes. "But I won't apologize for it."

He wanted to keep it? Wanted me to accept it?

I swallowed against the lump in my throat.

He tilted his head, considering me. "So what now?"

I shook my head. "I don't know."

A slow, knowing smirk curved his lips. "That's twice now."

I scowled. "Shut up."

He chuckled. "I suppose I should be grateful I got anything out of you at all."

I rolled my eyes, but there was no bite to it.

Eris studied me again, quieter this time. "I meant what I said," he murmured. "I was looking for you."

I looked away. "I know."

Silence settled between us again, but it was different now. Less suffocating.

More dangerous.

Because I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep pretending I didn't want him to find me. I approached his side quietly and sat.

The leather couch was cool against my skin as I sank into it beside him, the silence between us thick with unspoken words. The bond thrummed like a second heartbeat, relentless and inescapable.

The son of the man I loathed most in this world was the one I was expected to love beyond reason.

Fate was a sick, twisted thing.

I sighed, tired of thinking, tired of fighting, tired of everything. Slowly, hesitantly, I tilted my head, letting it rest against his shoulder. His body stiffened for a fraction of a second before he relaxed, exhaling a breath I might've imagined.

It was enough for now.

"I'm High Lord," he said after a beat.

"Painfully aware," I murmured.

"Meaning—there are rules of the Autumn Court that I can... simply get rid of."

I huffed a soft, tired laugh. "You're a lord, not a king."

"Mm, true," he mused, tilting his head back against the couch, "but if Rhysand can bend the rules to marry his mate, so can I."

I hesitated. "His court is much more pliable. Autumn is notorious for its... old-fashioned ways."

"Well, the Autumn Court has a new High Lord." His voice was steady, sure. "Let's just hope I'm changing it for the better."

I smiled faintly, my eyes fluttering shut. "You are, 'Ris."

The name slipped out before I could think better of it, before I could remind myself that familiarity with him was dangerous.

His body went still beneath me.

Then, slowly, deliberately, he looked down at me, amber eyes burning with something I couldn't name.

We stared at each other for a long moment, really seeing each other.

And then, quietly, almost reverently, he murmured, "I'm going to kiss you now."

I nodded.

And then he did.

His lips pressed against mine, slow and deep, as if we had all the time in the world. As if the bond wasn't something to be feared but something to be savored. His hand lifted to my jaw, his thumb brushing over my cheekbone before sliding into my hair, tilting my face up, pressing deeper.

I sighed into him, gripping the front of his tunic as the bond pulsed between us, as the warmth of his body and the scent of campfire and rainy mornings wrapped around me like something familiar, something I could fall into.

It should have scared me.

But all I could do was kiss him back.

Eris pulled away just enough to rest his forehead against mine, his breath warm against my lips. My heart pounded, my thoughts a chaotic mess, but the bond hummed in quiet contentment—as if it had known all along that this was inevitable.

His fingers stayed tangled in my hair, his other hand still cupping my jaw, holding me there, keeping me grounded. "We'll figure this out," he murmured, voice low, steady. Sure.

I let out a slow breath, my hands still fisted in his tunic. "You make it sound so simple."

"It doesn't have to be complicated."

I swallowed hard, my mind already spinning with the realities of what this meant, what it could mean. But as I looked at him, at the quiet determination in his gaze, at the warmth that had nothing to do with the firelight flickering around us, I found myself wanting—just for a moment—to believe him.

So I nodded, just barely.

His lips brushed my temple, lingering there for a heartbeat before he leaned back, his hand finally slipping from my hair. "One step at a time, my dear."

I exhaled, my pulse still thrumming in my throat, and echoed, "One step at a time."

And maybe, just maybe, we'd find our way through this. Together.

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[solbaby7]

High For This

pairing: eris x reader

warnings: jealous!eris, swearing, another overindulgent ball hosted simply for conspiratorial purposes, sexual themes, wrote this with the implication of Beron being dead, abrupt ending bc if i didn’t stop there i prolly wouldn’t stop at all, not edited

summary: Eris is a jealous man and you’re determined to see exactly how hot his fire burns for you.

—

“Excuse me?”

Your eyes roll on their own accord, hands fluffing through fresh curls as dark mascara dries on thick lashes. A tinted gloss stains full lips and Eris hates the way his lungs greedily gulp in the sensual oud permeating the air.

Everything in here smells like you and he doesn’t resist the indulgence of looking around to take in the fluffy duvet sheets neatly strewn over the mattress and the cream throw pillows tucked near your headboard. The canopy drapes are tucked to each post, the middle dripping dreamily like clouds hovering in the sky.

You’re meticulous, he notes; every item you own continent in their convenient little homes. “I said,” The tone you hold makes his jaw clench, his body visibly perturbed by your nonchalance while he felt himself slipping deeper into your pull. You barely spare him a proper glance—too occupied in looking over yourself in the floor length mirror. “I have a date so you don’t have to wait for me. We’ll meet you there.”

“A date?” Eris repeats sharply, staring at you through the mirror.

“Is there a problem with that?” You know the answer before the question is even fully spoken, a smug little smirk ghosting in the corner of your lips as you sift through your jewelry box. Rings are slid onto your fingers, gold bands and pretty emerald cut jewels glittering in the faelight. “I specifically remember you saying that you didn’t need a plus one.”

“Because,” Each syllable is drawn out, his restraint slipping as you pushed his buttons with such expertise. “—I already had one.” You read between the lines, a brow raising as you settle in the knowledge that the High Lord had expected you to hang off his arm.

“I don’t recall you asking.”

“It was implied.”

Dark kohl lines your eyes and accentuates full lashes, a pretty blush placed on the high points of your cheeks and such beauty seems lethal when you stare through the mirror. “You’ve never had an issue articulating your wants before—if you desired it bad enough, of course.”

You leave room for a response, trying desperately to mask the flicker of hope beginning to drudge to life within the embers. Centuries of waiting for Beron to no longer be an issue, no longer looming over both of your shoulders and destroying every meaningful moment.

Things were supposed to be different when he was finally dead.

Easier.

Only, Eris had grown more guarded. Terrified that showing a hint of affection would backfire as it had so many times before. He takes his time, smoothening out his tone and compulsively straightening out the neatly folded handkerchief sticking elegantly from the breast pocket of his perfectly tailored suit. “This is not up for debate, bunny. Turn your little friend away and let’s go before we’re late.”

“No.” You shove past him, clutch tucked under your arm and high heels clicking furiously against the hardwood.

It stuns him for a beat of time but he recovers far quicker and Eris all but barks out your name as he exits your door, following a few paces behind with a snarl working its way up his throat. “Get back here!”

“I am not some object that you can just command when you please.” Elegant curls bounce angrily with your every step, jewelry chiming with each little bounce down the stairs. One hand grips at the banister for balance, the tight fit of your dress forcing you to move slower than you’d like. “You do not own me.”

"You're right, bunny. I don't own you but I am your High Lord and you will stop walking this instant."

The immediate fae-like stillness of your form has Eris’ heart thumping with excitement against his ribcage. A perfect mask is painted across your features when you slowly turn on the balls of your feet to face him but nothing could ever quench the fire that burns behind your retinas. “My Lord?”

A noise is hummed low in his throat—pleased or patronizing?—you weren’t sure but judging by that leisurely stride and the special time he takes in looking you over, it has to be a mix of both. “I like that tone much better.” Eris’ hands are warm when he brushes a lock of hair away from your face, fingertips grazing against your neck with such care that you have to suppress the shiver threatening to rake up your spine.

You refused to allow him the satisfaction of knowing how his touch affected you.

Not when he was acting like such an entitled toddler.

“Wonderful,” Venom burns under every word, even if it is wrapped in a sickeningly sweet tone. “I aim to please.”

A smile bleeds its way onto his face, the faelight casting shadows over the handsome contours of his features and frustration forces your fingers to fidget when the intoxicating oud of his cologne engulfs your senses. “I’m thrilled to hear that, bunny.” Eyes narrow up at Eris as you clock that tone of voice—that devilish look burning behind amber irises. “Let’s hope all that enthusiasm helps you survive the night.”

“Funny you should say that,” The way your hand elegantly rests in the crease of his extended arm feels utterly natural, no matter how much contempt is quivering behind the movement. “It’s not me who needs to worry about surviving the night.”

—

Playing the part of the demure, doting date is a million times more difficult than you make it look. Sweet smiles and the inviting shape of your figure brings in more attention than normal—or maybe it was because of who’d been permanently fused to your side since the second you’d arrived.

Eris had never been so on guard, amber irises raking over anyone who came within a five foot radius and most of your time is spent wading the rigid line of his shoulders. “Quit it,” You snap through your teeth, concealing the bite if your words with a bright grin. “You forced me to be here with you and now you’re scaring everyone off.”

“Forced you?” He doesn’t even sound offended—just smug as he motions to your hand curled comfortably around his bicep. “Is that the narrative you’re running with tonight, bunny? How unoriginal.” The body language portrays anything but ‘forced’ and once he’s pointed it out, you’re quick to pull away, snatching your hand back and grumbling profanities under your breath.

“What else would you call it?”

Eris feigns aloofness when responding, refusing to grant you the decency of his gaze and your spine goes ramrod straight when his words sink in. “I’d say it’s no different than when any of the other High Lords attend with their plus ones—though it seems theirs are more well behaved.”

“I’m not some hound who submits to your every command, Eris Vanserra.” Hurt lingers in the words you spit out just loud enough for him to hear. “What the other High Lords have are wives, partners—mates. They’re not cowards; wanting someone and stringing them along.” Tears well in your waterline, grip shaky around the flute of champagne until you abandon it altogether. “You’re wasting my time and I have little patience left to offer.”

You’re forced to walk away before the dam breaks, refusing to wear your heart on your sleeve for it never worked well before. Makes you too vulnerable; too tethered to a male too afraid to return the sentiment.

Balcony doors creak under your touch, opening just enough for you to slip through and close it behind you. For once, you’re grateful for the solitude. Basking in the cool breeze and the comforting smell of fresh flora, you let your eyes slip closed, a single tear falling free and your back bows as you sag against iron railings.

Just a single moment of weakness.

And it’s completely shattered by another presence.

“Want me to kill ‘em?”

You snap up like a spring, neck nearly snapping with the force it takes to turn so quickly. Palms wipe at your cheeks, straightening out the fabrics of your dress. “Sorry,” You quickly flush the moment realization sinks in, eyes taking in the towering Illyrian standing just a few feet away. His hair held in a neat bun at the nape of his neck, burly form slouched in a lounge chair, wings stretched high behind him. “I thought I was alone out here.”

“Looking how you do, I doubt you’re ever really alone.”

You scoff, this hateful, bark of a noise that refuses to be tampered down or subdued. “Not everyone shares your sentiment.”

“Date ditch you?”

“A girl could only dream. No, my ‘date’ is spending his time being a grade A douchebag—needed fresh air before I did something stupid.”

He hums in acknowledgment, a chilled glass of amber liquor dripping condensation down the thick stretch of his forearm. His head cocks to the side when he looks you up and down, making note of that forlorn expression casting shadows across pretty features. “Want to make him jealous?”

You should be ashamed for how abruptly the notion piques your interest. For how quickly satisfaction settles within your bloodstream at the thought of Eris watching you waltz around with this brick wall of a male and his effortless presence. “What’s in it for you?”

“Pretty thing on my arm is prize enough, even if it is just for show.”

There’s a pause where the Illyrian can literally see the gears turning in your head. Outweighing the risks. Mulling over potential consequences.

He can tangibly grasp the exact moment you shove all that aside—too scorned to give a shit about retribution. Too much time had gone into getting ready to waste it all on a male too prideful to cherish the gift wrapped before him. You head nods with finality, one hand outstretched before him. “It’s a deal.”

His hand is warm against your own, significantly larger and riddled with callouses. Tattoos the shade of obsidian is etched into tawny skin, arms rippling with muscles that bulge against the tight fit of formal leather attire. “I’m Cassian.”

“I know who you are.” Hesitation lingers in the set of your shoulders, spine not fully lax though Cassian doubts that’s fully possible with the skyscraper for heels adorning your feet. “Do you know who I am?”

His grin only grows when he stands at full attention, so tall your neck cranes just to meet his eye. “I’ve got a pretty good idea.” Ice clinks against his glass as he offers it to you, lifting the rim to your lips and muttering a soft praise when you drink obediently. “There’s a girl. Drink up, you’ll need the liquid courage.”

Liquid courage. Makes sense when it burns on the way down, easing frazzled nerves and a short temper until your arm slips in the crease of Cass’ elbow like it was a regular occurrence.

He’s confident. Borderline cocky with the way he urges you closer, hips bumping into one another with each step. The closeness does the trick though, a smoldering set of sandy eyes fall on you the moment you’re thrusted back into the fray. “Chin up,” Cassian murmurs softly, lips barely even moving over the words.

You’re led to the dance floor, situated smack dab in the middle. It’s a spectacle but something tells you that’s the whole point when Cassian circles a hand around your waist. The other reaches for your free hand, easing your fingers against his own until you’re palm to palm. “Do you even know how to dance? I don’t recall that being apart of Illyrian curriculum.”

It’s a harmless tease—the jab earning you a laugh so organic that it shows both rows of shiny teeth and a pantydropping set of dimples in his cheeks. “Pretty and funny. You really should consider not being so charming, I have an awful habit of hoarding treasures like you.”

Your head dips, a blush growing along the apples of your cheeks that only grows when Cassian is emboldened, ushering you in closer until you run the risk of stepping all over his toes. If he cares, you can’t tell, too washed up in the feeling of being shown off—proudly at that. “I appreciate you doing this for me. Even if it doesn’t work.”

“Trust me,” Cassian drawls, his gaze far off as he focuses on something behind you. “It’s working.”

He doesn’t elaborate, though he doesn’t really have to when you pick up on a familiar step pattern. Nose catching the earthy scent of spicy cinnamon and nutmeg. Of pine trees and bonfire smoke. “Bunny,” Eris fixates on the Illyrian’s hold on you, the corded muscle in his jaw jumping with the effort it takes to restrain himself from burning Cassian’s hands to a crisp. “Mind if I cut in?”

“This dance is nearly done.”

“And you’ll be finishing it with me.” It’s sick how desire pools in your belly at the possessive tone. How pleased you feel with yourself when Eris all but pries you away from Cass and into his own arms. You barely have enough time to say thank you to the Night Courts General before the eldest Vanserra has whisked you far, far away from those giant wings and the enigmatic wearer of them. “Where’d you run off too? I was worried.”

“Worried about what? That someone else was cherishing what you neglect?” You hum to yourself at the raw guilt that screws up the handsome pout of his mouth. “What’s that saying? One males trash…”

“You aren’t trash. You know I don’t think of you as trash.”

“No, you just treat me like it.” The chattering of guests drowns out your words from prying ears. “Hiding me at the bottom of the bin like you’re ashamed of me or something.”

You’re working yourself up again. Overthinking. Self-depreciating. Resenting. Digging a hole with no means of pulling yourself out but Eris halts that train of thinking with a hand to your jaw. The grip is gentle but firm, guiding you to look him in the eye; insisting you see the seriousness that swirls in the copper tones of his iris. “You are everything to me,” His confession stops you in your tracks. Steals your breath away at you hang onto every constant and vowel like a lifeline. “I wake up everyday just so I can see your face and I lay my head down every night praying that it’s filled with dreams of you—of us. Everything I do, anything I’ve ever done is to ensure your happiness. Your safety.”

“Eris..”

“No, listen to me.” Both hands cup your cheeks, all space eaten up until each breath he exhales in the air you inhale. Two halves of a whole slowly sliding into place. The final pieces of a puzzle connecting as one to fulfill the bigger picture. “You are mine.” Thumbs brush over the curve of your cheekbones, tracing at the slope of your nose and memorizing the shine of your lips. “My woman,” Tenderness leaks from every syllable, sincerity bleeding from every pore until you’re unable to fight back the rushing currents of your tears. “My love, my mate and while I can never promise to be a perfect male, I can vow that I am thoroughly vested in all things categorized as your best interest.”

“If I’d have known dancing with another male was all it took for such a confession, I’d have done so long ago.”A breathless laugh emits, one that softens the stern line of his brow and eases the fear his father engraved in his soul.

Noses brush, lashes kissing until your lips meet his own and all of your doubt is washed away. “I love you.”

“All I’ll ever love is you.”

[manicmanuscription]

Don’t Be Mad Sweetheart

PolySJM Week: Day Three

Prompt: Will There Be Enough Room?

Parings: Azriel / Eris / Fenrys / Reader

Summary: Your mates refuse to leave your side even after a fight, your old bedroom might not be able to fight all of them.

Tags: Fluff, Angst, (In-Couple fighting??) a little spicey but no smut.

Word Count: 1229

PolySJM Week 2025 Masterlist | Acotar Masterlist

I woke to a heavy weight settled against my chest. I wasn’t able to move and panic quickly replaced grogginess as I opened my eyes. The moonlight illuminating Eris tucked in on my left, Fenrys on my right and Azriel laying on top of me, his wings spread out across the three of us and touching the floor. 

They looked rather pitiful. It was an incredibly small bed, Fenrys hulking body smashed against the wall and one of Eris’ legs and arms were hanging outside of it. I think Azriel’s feet might be hanging off the bed. 

I had cried myself to sleep last night in my old bed chambers, tucked away in the back rooms of the Forest House. Eris had gifted them to me when my mates and I were all still courting. He had given Fenrys a similar sad room and we had come to the conclusion that he had done that for the sole purpose of making us run to his bedroom instead, although the sly male would never admit it. 

I can’t believe they had the audacity to come sneak into my bed in the middle of the night after I told them I wanted space after our fight. Guilt and anger clouded my mind, they’d been neglecting me lately. Late nights spent doing their respective court duties and it had turned into a full blown argument, the worst one we’d have since being mated. 

They were confusing me, it warmed my heart they had all crammed their muscular warrior bodies into this tiny bed just to be with me but at the same time it only enraged me further. Now they want to be with me? And spent time with me? After I yelled at them and forced them too? Fuck. Off. 

Small swirling shadows curled up against my ear, comforting me and a few slithered down to my mates as well slowly stirring him. I tried to untangle myself from the mass of bodies but it made it difficult. It didn't help that an illyrian warrior had his face tucked on my stomach. I was surprised he wasn’t crushing me to death. 

I tried to lift him off of me again but he only tightened his grip on my waist.  Mumbling something and I groaned in annoyance. “What the hell are you oafs doing.” I snapped out, Azriel lifted his head blinking the sleep from his eyes. “What does it look like we’re doing?”

“Don’t smartmouth me.” 

“I wasn’t-”

“We haven’t spent a night apart, do you think we’re going to start now sweetheart.” Fenrys mumbled, his voice thick with exhaustion and he started running his fingers through my hair. Butterflies erupted in my stomach at the touch and I pushed it away.

“Surprised you even had the time to walk all the way down here.” I hissed. “Just, get off of me.” I said pushing at Azriel’s shoulders again, I knew they could feel the hurt down my bond, Azriel lifted himself on his forearms but made no move to fully remove himself. With Eris in the way I couldn’t exactly slide out from under him. I think the asshole was purposely blocking my exit.

“We’re not spending a night away from you.” Eris growled.

“No. I’m mad at you. Go sleep with the dryads for all I care.” Fuck them honestly. I already felt guilty for the things I’d said yet I was still angry at them. It wasn’t a good mix of emotions and it made my bad mood even worse. 

I crawled out from under Azriel, removing his arm and rolling myself on top of Eris. -Gods this mattress was tiny- All I had to do was roll down to the floor and find a different room to sleep in. One with a lock. 

Eris was faster than me and he trapped me close to him with his arms. He then flipped us around so he was pinning me to the mattress below him. Knocking Azriel into Fenrys in the process. “Ouch.” Azriel mumbled and Fenrys pressed a comforting kiss to the male’s forehead, then the corner of his mouth. 

“You can be mad at us and still share the same bed.” Eris demanded, it only made me angrier and I lifted myself, pressing my weight into my arms and elbows, our faces close together. “No, you don’t get to just command that of me you selfish, egomaniacal prick I-” 

Eris slammed his lips to mine, pulling a moan from me unbidden. I let it continue a few moments longer than it should’ve. Momentarily forgetting about everything that had transpired. 

When I did remember however I shoved him off me, pushing him into the duo tucked away to the corner of the mattress. Someone made a small ‘oomph’ sound and I swore a few pieces of the wall splintered as Fenrys got tucked further into it. 

God I was such a bitch- guilt made me start angry crying and I wiped away the tears as fast as I could. “You don’t get to just- don’t get to just fucking pretend I don’t exist and then demand we continue as if everything is normal.” I sobbed out, my breaths coming out unevenly and I tucked my knees to my chest. 

Movement stirred behind me, the mattress shifting with the males weight. One settled me into his chest and I recognized Fenrys by his scent. Eris by my side and Azriel in front of me, all somehow touching me and making the hurt worse and simultaneously calm me down. 

“We’re sorry baby.” Fenrys spoke softly, pressing a kiss to the juncture of my throat. “We want to  make it up to you.” Azriel agreed, running a hand up and down my leg. 

“I’m sorry love.” Eris was next to speak after a moment of hesitation he continued. “I didn’t mean to push you aside, I just- got wrapped up in my own head, in the court and pushed everyone past their limits. I didn’t mean to-” His voice broke slightly and I lifted me head so I could wrap my arms around his neck. “I’m sorry too.” 

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I was mean.”

“We were all mean.” Azriel uttered, his tone regretful. 

“We’re going to take a vacation, I promise.” Eris vowed, Fenrys smirked,  eyeing my body up and down. “Where we’re definitely going to try and make it up to you.” 

“Can we go back to bed now please.” The Illyrian yawned and I giggled at the sight of the three massive males all crammed into my tiny bed. 

Fenrys eyed the mattress as if it offended him. “Our bed please, I think this thing gave me permanent back issues.” 

“If Eris hadn’t stuck me in this room when I first arrived at Court your back would be saved from turmoil.” 

Eris smirked, leaning his head against the wall. “What can I say? I wanted you three in my bed.” 

“I fucking knew it!” Fenrys exclaimed and I just gave the red headed male an exasperated look. My mate picked me up and carried me from the dusty room. “We’re going to get him back for this.” He whispered softly in my ear, sending tingles down my spine. 

Eris and Azriel walked behind us hand in hand and I giggled against Fenrys’ chest. “One hundred percent.”

[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, Eris being an asshole sometimes (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.

(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 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 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

coming soon

IX. If Only | Azriel is there to comfort you after taking you away from Day Court. aka your pov after pt VII

X. Come Back To Me

series taglist: @kodafics , @shinyghosteclipse, @marrass, @posierosie, @solanaaaaaaa

@tele86, @bubybubsters, @k-homosapien, @mariaxliliana, @kathren1sky-blog

@anainkandpaper, @icey--stars, @moonlovefairy, @hellohauntedturnstudent, @lucia-valentinaa,

@wrenisrad, @smol-grandpa, @sleepylunarwolf, @63angel, @anuttellaa

@anon1227 @paleidiot @thatacotargirl, @queenoffeysand , @slut4acotar @awkardnerd

@blueroseava , @lovetia , @historygeekqueen , @idk1027 ,@naturakaashi

@blightyblinders , @wolvesnravens , @galaxystern08 , @faeofthemoonandstars , @antisocial-architect

@elisha-chloe, @cwallace02sblog, @randomramblesfanfiction, @moonlitlavenders, @booksnwriting

@sunny1616, @holb32, @gamarancianne, @daemyratwst, @ratgirl2020 @balufy

if you asked to be on the tag list & don't see your name here or on my general one, pls let me know! I'll keep track of them here.

[thehighladywrites]

“G-A-N-G, BABY LET ME B-A-N-G BABY! (LET ME FUCK SUM!)”

☆ pairing: acotar men x reader

☆ summary: submission? size difference? orgasm control? click keep reading to find out what the acotar men get turned on by!

☆ warnings: nsfw, 18+, just a fat warning that this will contain smut and nsfw themes, ig you don’t like it pls scroll!💜

☆ amara’s note: ’ello mates! enjoyyyy

rhysand

⤷ corruption

in rhysand’s eyes, you are the sweetest thing to ever exist—a breathtaking angel. he plays the part of a friendly confidant, but it’s all a deception. he knows how sheltered you were and knows how flustered you get whenever he’s shirtless. there’s no way to miss the way you avoid his gaze and lower your head, cheeks blushy. he loves the way you squirm and turn shy when he whispers the most dirty, scandalous words into your ear. he loves when you come to him for advice, only for him to twist and manipulate your thoughts, steering you straight into his arms. there’s nothing more he wants than to ruin every bit of innocence you have, to make you utterly dependent on him. Not to hurt you, never that but to corrupt you completely, simply because it turns him on like nothing else.

⤷ exhibitionism

rhysand’s fucking you. and that’s something he wants the whole world to see. he wants them to see the way you get needy when you make out, the way you let out little noises when he touches your body, the way your eyes roll back when he enters you. you’re his little fucktoy and he just couldn’t be more proud when you spread your legs for him infront of anyone. is it really his fault that the meetings get so fucking boring and repetitive? and is it really that wrong of him to stuff his fingers deep in your dripping little pussy and finger you til’ you pass out just out of plain boredom? NOOOOOO

cassian

⤷ dumbification plus aftercare

Cassian fucks you until your mind is nothing but mush, ’til you’re hearing static, until you’re soft and pliant in his arms, lost in the haze he’s pulled you into. He always knows the moment it happens, when your body goes limp, when your breathing slows, when you stop hearing anything at all. Even when he shakes you a little, you barely stir.

“I know you’re out of it, baby. I got you.”

He handles you with so much care, lifting you effortlessly, bathing you with slow, steady hands. You don’t react, just let him take care of you, completely gone in his grasp.

When he wraps you in the warmest, fluffiest towel, his chest tightens at the sight of you. tear-filled eyes, lashes stuck together, looking up at him with that vacant, dopey little smile.

Only then does he relax. Because you trust him, even like this. So vunerable and sweet.

To Cassian there’s like nothing more intimate than aftercare. Like he is so fucking into it and he loves to do it that is kinda an obsession for him. It’s just in his nature to be caring for you.

⤷ praise

kinda goes hand in hand with the previous one. i actually don’t think he’d even want to degrade you. you want to be so good for him, to get praise, because there’s nothing better than cassian’s praise. i mean, you’re always so good to him, so of course he’s letting you know what a sweet and lovely girl you are anyway. and of course he’ll tell you how immensely proud of you he is when you take aaaaaall of his inches, never complaining once. You’ll hear a good girl here, and a that’s my girl there. And Gods if that doesn’t make your entire day.

⤷ size kink

guys this is such an obivous one. literally no matter your size, huncho over here will be bigger. he enjoys it too, like he’s obsessed with how much bigger he is than you. this is one of those times ‘just the tip’ really is enough. but he’s careful, like super duper careful bc he knows he can hurt you if he’s careless. also, his hands are huge like fucking massive. sometimes he uses his fingers and they reach deeeeeep and they fill you out deliciously. other times he folds you in half and presses you into the meanest mating press ever! your body’s folded in half as he jackhammers into you like a beast. this position just gives him the most perfect view of your difference. also he’s the type who will say he’ll make it fit if you complain or worry

azriel

⤷ oral

EATER EATER EATER

god i just know he gives the BEEEEST head. a pussy-eating champion really. he loves the feeling of your warm thighs smushing him as he laps at your clit whilst pumping his fingers along your gummy walls. he mostly does this for himself, okay? like it’s not even his fault that he gets off on your sounds or the way your fingers find their way into his hair or the way you drag your manicured nails over his sensitive scalp. he might have a sliiiiightly selfish side but still.

⤷ overstimulation

azriel holds a vibrator to your clit until you can’t even cry anymore. like it’s just all too much! you’re skin stickin to the sheets, your heart’s beatin too fast and you feel oh soooo good. maybe a bit too good. but azriel likes the way you come over and over again, a painful pleasure you’re not really saying no to. and obviously he isn’t a monster, you do have a safeword, but it’s one you’re so not gonna be using anytime soon tho…

⤷ risky sex

i think azriel is super into risky sex. wanna know why? because are you telling me he wouldn’t love the thrill of being caught? like he knows he’ll never be caught, duh, he’s the spymaster but still. like you’re so worried when he’s fucking you in the hallway, i mean, anyone can just walk by and see you practically bent over some decorative table. God forbid anyone catches you like this but he just doesn’t worry. He likes the thrill because he knows he’ll wait until the last possibly second before winnowing away. Like if he hears footsteps, he’ll wait until he can practically see the other person before disappearing. talk about adrenaline kick.

Eris

⤷ Casual Dominance

This man is so casually dominant it doesn’t even register at first, you’re just too into him. Eris is 100% in charge of you and your life, but not in a creepy way. He picks out your outfits, styles your hair, makes sure you eat, and just generally keeps an eye on you. If you’re about to do something dumb (or just not great for you), he doesn’t argue—he just smoothly steers you in the right direction, like if you’re procrastinating homework, he’ll make sure you’re done by the end of the day. also he guides you through the streets, you don’t even have to use your brain with him. he just fixes everything and he leads your every move.

⤷ brat taming

Since we’re on the subject, let’s get into the fun part—because let’s be real, Eris loves order and he sure likes to set you straight. Like he’d ever pass up a chance to put you in your place. For example👀:

“You don’t like the food? Want me to order you something else?” he asks when he catches you staring at your plate instead of eating. He’s already cut your steak, sliding it over like he always does, waiting for you to eat.

You just sigh, pick up your wine, and down it in one go before reaching for the bottle. As expected, Eris catches your wrist before you can pour another.

“One glass is enough for tonight.”

You roll your eyes and, just to be a menace, grab his glass instead—draining it while holding eye contact.

His eyes narrow. “Be a big girl and spit it out, baby. What’s the matter?”

“Dunno. Maybe ask Jenny, you seem to get along just fine. Actually, why don’t you just date her? Fuck her while you’re at it.”

Eris wanted to sigh so loudly, but he knew that would only piss you off more. The waitress? Not even a thought in his mind. Sure, he noticed her flirty eyes and lovestruck smile, but that’s all it was, an observation. He’d ignored her completely, yet here you were, fuming. Like he’d ever cheat on you.

His jaw ticks as he drops two hundred dollar bills before standing up and speaking with scary calm. “Get up. We’re leaving.”

GOOD LUCK :D

Lucien

⤷ hair pulling

oh my god his hair is his weakness. like as soon as you run your hands through his hair he turns into mush and literally melts. i swear if he was a cat, he’d purr. sometimes if you scratch his scalp the right way, it can lead into the sloppiest, messiest makeout session ever. and when you’re in the middle of it, pull it. istg you’ll leave pregnant

⤷ dirty talk

king of talking reaaaaal nasty. like omg he could make a sailor blush. he’ll get so close to you, whispering in your ear and you get all hot and bothered and ticklish. other men might be quiet in bed BUT NOT THIS GUY. literally doesn’t stop talking and it just fuels him on like crazyyyy. and if you try to talk dirty back, he’ll sit there with the biggest grin and just hear you out.

⤷ roleplay

c’mon he’s a lil freak. he’s into tons of kinks like i think he likes to explore a lot too. butttt lucien and roleplay??👀👀 JACKPOTT!! he won’t say no to anything and is more of a try everything once kinda guy. him being a hot guard and you’re a princess he can’t have. imagine the hot taboo sex😈 or barmaid x customer, boss x secretary, enemies who fuck oh my god

[lunarxcity]

Why here? (Part VI to Why me?)

azriel x rhys' sister! reader

angst/eventual comfort ( Now this one is a bit different from the rest and is a bit angsty and more Eris and Azriel focused so we'll see how that goes )

Summary: When you walk in on Azriel and Elain the mating bond snaps leading you to flee to Autumn with Eris so you can be free of Azriel. Your absence causes Azriel to come to some drastic realisations, but is it already too late and has your time in Autumn led to you moving on?

Parts I, II, III, IV, and V if you missed them!

-

There is an enchanted chessboard older than the cauldron itself. Before the fae inhabited this world and when the creatures in the prison roamed free Fate had gifted the Mother a chessboard. They play more often than not and through the centuries the stakes have gotten higher and higher.

Around the times of the first high lords, when the lines of the courts were being drawn and the Cauldron was being built an intruder had run interference on their game. A small black tendril, nameless in nature and free in spirit, the first shadow of this world. The emergence of the first shadowsinger had awoken it, apparently teaching it to shift through the different worlds and it had accidentally stumbled upon the Mother's. The shadow had swirled around the pieces, animating them and moving them around which gave the Mother the wonderful idea of turning her pieces into the lives of actual fae as the chess games had become rather boring lately.

So for centuries, the Mother and Fate have been writing the destinies of unsuspecting fae. Move after move, piece after piece. Now this particular game has hit quite a standstill. Move after move and yet no clear winner or end in sight. The story of you and Azriel has been a rather difficult one to craft and the game has been played for hundreds of years, it's vicious and cut-throat. The Mother who has been playing for you has been going for direct and sharp moves, while Fate who has been playing for Azriel has been going for the unsuspecting moves, the ones that you don't realise are happening until it's too late.

"How long are we going to make them dance around each other for?" The Mother looked at Fate with her all-knowing gaze before she began to eye her pieces, a pensive look that only belonged to someone who is actively working out their strategy because if the Mother hated one thing it was losing.

Fate looked back at her, "We could continue this game for all eternity darling. What's the rush when we have forever? You do know how I love a slow dance." Fate had always loved the journey, he loved to craft these elaborate stories for the Mother's characters, he always told her that he believed it would make the payoff better, but she was rather fond of these characters and they had been playing for so very long.

The Mother made her move. She sighed, "Haven't we made them go through enough? I do like these ones they might be my favourites." She looks at him in his ethereal eyes, glowing with a light that was anything but mortal, "You do know the sister plotline was a bit much. She has gone through enough any more struggles and she might not even want the mating bond anymore."

He looks at her and then the pieces, competition lacing his very being, he moves his piece. "I believe that suffering is the only way to bring out the truth of someone's character. It is in these moments of darkness that we must look actually look at ourselves and truly see us for what we are."

He picks reaches out across the table and holds her hand. "This is the only time we can truly change for the better. They would have never been happy together otherwise my love. You know that you made them both too stubborn for their own good." Fate gives the Mother a blinding smile, one with all the kindness and reprise that he refuses to give the ones who's destiny he is in charge of.

She gives him an annoyed look. Not one of true annoyance but rather an I'm annoyed your right and know me well enough to know I agree with you kind of annoyance. She gives a small smile back and goes, "Yes the shadowsinger reminds me of a certain someone too. Someone who is also too stubborn for his own good and refuses to accept a loss.

At this the Mother smirks and moves her piece, she looks at Fate with a mischievous grin and forces his hand. Very few had the power to tamper with Fate, but right now the Mother had him in the palm of her hand. She smiles and for the first time in almost 500 years she it looks like the game is going in her favour, the endgame is near and she refuses to lose.

"Check."

-

In the Gardens of Velaris, there was a shadowsinger hiding in the shadows. This was not an unusual sight, as his job description entails spying and the shadows are curious creatures, what was unusual was the feeling of the mating bond that had just snapped for Azriel.

He has been yearning for this very thing for Centuries, so now that he has it, why does the world feel like it's collapsing beneath his feet. You were only a few feet away in the distance. He could literally see you. See you laughing with Eris. Eris.

Rage envelops him and a way of thinking so primal and ancient is fighting with his rational mind. Well as rational as it could be mind. A bombshell has been dropped on him and he is trying his best under the current circumstances to stay calm and not tear Eris' throat out for being that close to you and even worse, making you laugh.

Shadows emanate from every fibre of his being. The shadows take over, and Night hears them, and together, they envelop the court in an all-consuming blackness that snuffs out every light source for miles. It had only lasted for a millisecond, barely anyone had noticed it and those who did had just assumed they had blinked or it was a trick of a light, but he could tell you did.

You started looking around frantically. Cauldron save him he couldn't face you right now. He had no right to even look at you. After the initial shock of learning that you were his mate, the reality of everything that he has done came crashing down on him. Azriel can't deal with himself. The reality of what he has put you through. He pined over Mor for over a century. He almost invoked a Blood Duel over Elain. You were his mate and he had forsaken your bond. Forsaken your bond for another fae's mate. Your friend's mate.

Mother free him from this torment. Everything came crashing into him at once. Reminders of every time that he had ignored you for another female. Reminders of the flash of sadness that would flicker in your gentle gaze every time that Azriel would rain-check your plans for Elain or talk about another female.

The look of disdain that Rhys had on his face the night he found him and Elain. The uncharacteristic cruelty that had been directed towards Azriel. The distance of the inner circle and his own shadows. Everyone had known. Everyone except for him. Did you know? Is that why you left? Why you had been ignoring him for months?

He tries to tug on the bond and he winces. The bond snaps back at him painfully like a rubber band that was held taught and released. Seems like even the bond itself is punishing Azriel. So you didn't know then?

You were still looking around with your senses on high alert and it seems like you weren't the only one that had noticed the blackout. Eris in all his horrendous glory had also been surveying the area and while you looked like started pray that was scanning for predator to jump out of the bushes and attack, Eris was every bit the predator scanning the area ready to pounce.

Azriel locked eyes with Eris. Eris' eyebrows raise, his eyes holding mischief and curiosity, a truly despicable combination. The conniving fox never stops his scheming and with a smirk he puts his hand on your lower back and leans to whisper something in your ear. All while maintaining eye contact with Azriel.

His rational side is long forgotten and he luges for Eris. Pupils dilated, teeth bared, and siphons glowing. Instead of landing on Eris, he landed on a barrier of shadows which drag him through the shadow realm like a parent dragging their misbehaving toddler by the arm into timeout.

The shadows drag him through the shadow realm, struggling to constrain him, and throw him onto the floor of the training ring in the house of wind. Rhysand and Cassian arrive on the scene moments later, amusement coating their features once they see the position that Azriel is in. Cassian bursts into a fit of laughter seeing Azriel shadows trying to hold him in place and watching him fight back against them, while swearing profusely.

Rhys saunters towards Azriel, "Well took you long enough brother. Release him." The shadows immediately release their hold of Azriel. The look he's giving Rhys is filled with so much malice that anyone other than Rhys would have shivered at his gaze.

Rhys is gives Azriel a predatory smile that is anything but friendly. Rhys says, "Now that you officially know I can finally do this", and he punches Azriel in the face. Rhys looks at Azriel while he's on the floor from the hit, "You want to be my brother again. Earn it. "

Azriel's nostrils flare and he comes swinging at Rhys with full force. Cassian is enjoying this a lot more than he should have and the house agrees spawning him popcorn on the table on the outskirts of the training ring. Between Azriel's vicious as a result of a new mating bond and Rhys' pent up anger for hundreds of years of pain you endured this was going to be a very entertaining fight.

-

There were very few things that brought Eris Vanserra true unadultered joy - his schemes, the suffering of his enemies, and apparently spending time with you. For these few months with you had been the first time he genuinely enjoyed someone's company. He was sad you were leaving, of course, but that was the whole point of your stay, you would process your mating bond and return when you had distanced yourself from it enough that being around Azriel wouldn't break you.

Eris had never wished for a mating bond. He has never been surrounded by happiness, let alone love, only pain, and would never wish that life upon another. To be tethered to Eris is to be tethered to a lifetime of cruelty and a lifetime of pain. He watched his mother suffer every day at the hands of his father, the only true happiness she experienced was in the presence of Eris or Lucien, whom she seldom sees anymore. He watched the love of Lucien's life be sentenced to death by his father.

Eris knows that when he becomes the high lord of Autumn that he will have a target on his back and is one day destined to meet a bloody end. How could he sentence someone to a fate like that? Every Vanserra's is a flame - burns brightly, hurts to the touch, and is destined to go out.

Now Eris does believe in love but he also believes in choice and he has chosen to keep his circle small and tight for as long as he could remember. His walls were impenetrable and he was very guarded, he wore cruelty as a mask and indifference as a cloak with wit being his sword. He had never needed anyone, he only needed himself. That's what he told himself when Lucien had told him he was leaving Autumn for Spring. That's what he told himself when he isolated himself for hundreds of years and that's what he told you when you guys had first met in the Autumn Court library.

You had been about 75 and were in the Autumn Court on a diplomatic visit with Rhys and your father. You had grown bored and decided to sneak off into the Autumn Court library in the middle of the night, unaware that anyone would be there. You had just waltzed in and started grabbing text after text that Eris was actually impressed and had remained silent for two hours until he decided enough was enough and it was time to bother you. You guys argued for hours, matching each other's wit in a way that Eris had never experienced, and he didn't admit it to anyone but he was looking forward to your next visit.

You guys had always corresponded after that. Remaining good friends and regularly sending each other updates, book recommendations, and even jokes. Eris realised that he missed you, a very uncommon feeling for the cold hearted fire wielder and was elated to receive an invite to the Night Court ball. He arrived elated to see you only to find you on the arm of the shadowsinger. He couldn't be upset though, because you ran to him excitedly and embraced him in a hug.

Eris refused to be second to anybody so he gave it up and accepted his role in your life. You value the people in your life greatly and he appreciates your friendship either way but it would be a lie to say it didn't pain him to hear about Azriel for so long.

Azriel had this amazing person pining after him and he couldn't even appreciate you enough to properly give you his attention. How he didn't know you had feelings for him, Eris couldn't figure out. He was the Spymaster of the Night Court and he couldn't even notice how your eyes lit up in his presence.

When you had written Eris in a panic calling in the favor you held over him for securing certain information about Beron, Eris knew it had something to do with that Cauldrons-damned shadowsinger and had left immediately. The minute he was in that room with you and him and the rest of the inner circle, he knew the mating bond had snapped for you and that Azriel was contemplating invoking a blood duel over Elain. A blood duel with his brother. Eris was furious.

Eris is still furious. The shadowsingers stupidity almost got his brother killed and maybe you, he believes you to be formidable, but a broken mating bond has catastrophic effects on fae. It was something he would never wish upon you. Eris would lie to everyone but himself and he knows that he has sent a prayer to the Mother at least once or twice or more times asking for you to be his mate because he knows that while he could never deserve you he would do everything in his power to try to be.

Eris is not a traditionalist by any means, how could he be when his father runs Autumn with an iron fist claiming that the old way is the best way especially when it comes to fae rights, but Eris does believe in the sanctity of a mating bond. If you and Azriel had tried it out and it didn't work then he would be free to make his move, but anytime before then he deems it unacceptable. He also feels the same for Elain and Lucien, which is another reason he didn't respect Azriel.

Eris would never openly sabotage your life like that. The number one thing he wishes for is your happiness and he sends a prayer to the Mother for that a lot more than he would care to admit. That doesn't mean that Eris can't at least mess with Azriel and make his life a living hell for the period before you get together. He did cause you to suffer for so long, it's only fair.

Eris does not consider himself to be a good person. He's selfish and downright evil at times, but he believes the Mother knows him at his soul and that one day when he is freed from the confines of his father the Mother will allow him to find happiness in either this life or the next. While he doesn't need a mating bond, he is tired and exhausted from being so lonely all the time. When everyone sees you as a villian, it's so hard to not become one and Eris is ready for some change.

But today was not the day for changing for the better. Which is what Eris tells himself as he meets Azriel's gaze in the Gardens of Velaris. Based on the dilated pupils and the overall feral look of the shadowsinger, Eris assumes that the mating bond has just snapped for him. Oh goody. This would be a real treat for Eris. A bit of payback if you will.

Eris raises a brow and maintains eye contact with the shadowsinger as he gets close to you and puts a hand on your lower back. He gives some sort of witty retort and you laugh. He continues to look at Azriel while all of this is happening, just to add to the torment. He sees Azriel lunge and then disappear in a cloud of shadow. Well looks like his shadows took care of that. He'll be back eventually and then Eris can do the same thing again.

Eris has already made peace with the fact that you were not his, but he had to make sure you had the best in his absence and if you were destined to be with this male Eris had to at least test him first. Consider it a hazing ritual or reparations for the way he treated you. Either way Azriel was going to make sure this male suffered until he shapes up and became the perfect mate because you deserve nothing less and if Azriel fails to do that then Eris would have no problem sweeping the rug from under him in his own Court.

Eris loves a challenge and he has grown very bored lately. He let Lucien in on this plan and Lucien had actually spoken about wanting to give Elain the opportunity to get to know him, now that Azriel's out of the picture, so the timing was working anyways. Worst case scenario the Night Court is in shambles which would sit back and enjoy anyways. Best case scenario you leave back with him to Autumn and never step foot in this court ever again and leave the shadowsinger forever. Either way he gets to spend time with you and torment Azriel.

He thinks Rhys agreed to this arrangement just because he also wants Azriel to suffer a little bit, after everything he's done.

Eris looks at you again, snapping you out of your search for Azriel. he goes, "I have a surprise for you." You look up at him, focusing on what he's saying, but still being half distracted by the idea of Azriel being near.

"You were saying how much you were going to miss me due to you leaving of Autumn and I have business in the Night Court, so guess who is going to be staying here for the foreseeable future?" Eris says all of this with the smug grin you have been accustomed to seeing him don.

Your face lights up and he continues. "Lulu is also going to be tagging along because he adores his charming older brother so much-" You roll your eyes at him. "Lucien did not say that."

Eris cuts you off by throwing his arm over your shoulder and leads you through the arches of the garden into the ball. "But he will once he sees the havoc we are going to wreak in Night." Eris gives you a mischievous grin and for once you actually give one back as you take your official steps back into your life in the Night Court.

part vii

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note: This chapter was actually meant to be twice as long and this was the first part but I am about to get busy so I wont be writing for the next week or so and I wanted to get something out before I fall of the grid. I will be answering to asks though I do love receiving them and hearing what you guys think I just won't have that much time to write. The style of this chapter is a lot different from the rest so I do want to know what you guys think. I didn't think it was a good idea for the reader and Azriel to interact immediately after the bond snapped for him, he was just in such a high alert state that I don't think it would be a good idea until he's at least calm again(I know Rhys has been holding in that punch for hundreds of years). Until next time my lovelies!

note note: again pls ignore the lack of editing and the sleep deperivated state I wrote this in :)

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[danikamariewrites]

Always By Your Side

Eris x reader

Notes: I realized I haven’t written a period comfort fic for Eris and was in desperate need of one. And now I give you this, please accept my contribution to the trope

Warnings: period, comfort, fluff

Entering Eris’s office clutching your latest read you find the room empty. His scent is still somewhat fresh. The mating bond in your chest humming at the comfort it brings.

You let out a sad sigh, sitting in your usual spot on the couch facing Eris’s desk. Your hands shake slightly as you flip to the page where you left off.

You had woken up without your mate and to pain from your cycle. Craving the warmth Eris can give you was the only motivator to get up.

When you first got your cycle your mother had always gone back and forth between keeping you in your room and telling you to power through the pain. You can’t deny that her voice was nagging you in the back of your mind, scolding you to get up. Another reason you rolled out of bed.

To say you were nervous to be around Eris on your cycle is an understatement. Even though Eris has told you over and over again that he loves every part of you, you still get scared. Scared of his rejection and disgust towards you. Despite never once showing any kind of cruelty towards you, your anxiety tells you differently. And your anxiety’s voice sounds a lot like your mother's.

Breathing through cramps and the numbness in your legs you wait for Eris to return. You end up rereading a lot of your book. The words are not registering in your brain.

The door clicks open making you sit up straighter. Whipping your head around to see Eris’s assistant, Reed, come in. He gives you a kind smile as he places papers down on the desk. “Afternoon my lady.”

“Hello Reed.” You return his smile with one of your own. “Do you know where Eris is?”

Reed finishes shuffling the papers into hands before he answers. You found out early on he’s a very focused person. Not the best multitasker but Eris trusts him greatly.

“He’s in a meeting right now. They should be a while, is there a message you would like me to relay?”

A cramp hits you hard making you wince. “My lady?” Taking a deep breath you compose yourself. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Umm, no. No message.” You give Reed a tight smile. His eyes narrow as he looks you over. Bowing to you he leaves.

As soon as you hear the door click you curl up on the couch. Pressing your fingertips into your abdomen as a tear rolls down your cheek.

No one looks up when Reed enters the room. No one ever notices Reed and he likes it. Eris prefers him to operate quietly. Which is what he will do now.

Eris spots his assistant, giving him a curt nod as he comes closer. Reed leans down whispering in his ear.

Jumping from his seat as Reed leans away, Eris was out the door. Ignoring the calls of his name from lieutenants and advisors. Focused on getting to his mate.

The door opening again has you shooting up into a sitting position. Snatching your book off the coffee table you pretend to read. Looking like a poised and graceful lady.

Eris stands in the doorway for a moment. Now that he’s close he can sense the anxiety you’ve been keeping pent up. Some of it slipping through your loosening grip on keep your bond closed.

Moving quietly your mate kneels in front of you, pulling your attention from “reading”. Eris places a large hand on your hip rubbing calming circles with his thumb. His eyes searching your face for a change in mood as you stare at him with an unconvincing smile.

Eris tugs on the bond making your hold slip. That golden light in your chest craving his touch. Eris winces at the sliver of your pain and discomfort that runs through him. “My heart, what’s wrong?” You wrap your arms around his shoulders. Slinking off the couch you mold yourself to Eris’s body. He wraps his arms around you tight, burying his face in the crook of your neck, taking in your sweet scent. The first time Eris got within arms reach of you after the bond snapped he swore he got drunk off your scent. It had washed over him like a gentle wave on the shore of a Summer court beach. Vanilla and almond.

There’s something faint under your sweetness. Eris reluctantly lets go of you, dragging his hands up your body to hold your face. “Please tell me,” he pleads. You sigh, embarrassment keeping the words from tumbling out of your mouth. Your mothers voice telling you that males don’t care about female problems echoes in your head. The worry in his amber eyes makes you feel guilty for ever thinking Eris would be disgusted with you.

Dropping your forehead to his, you screw your eyes shut. Pushing the bad thoughts from your mind. Shutting out your mothers cruel comments for good.

“It’s my cycle. It started this morning and I didn't know if I could tell you.” Eris feels his heart crack a little.

“My heart, how could you ever think you couldn’t tell me something? Especially if you’re in pain.” The frown on his face has your tears flowing again. “Oh my love.” Eris pulls you back to his chest, rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“Keeping my cycle to myself has just been something I’ve done for years. I didn’t want to burden you with a small problem.” Eris hugs you tighter. He can’t imagine a world where your problems aren’t his problems. “My heart you can always come to me.” “Promise?” You whisper.

“Promise. Because guess what I’ll always do?” You sniffle as you lean away from Eris. “What?” Eris wipes at your tears with his thumbs. “I will always fix whatever’s wrong. No matter what.” He presses a quick kiss to your nose. “Let’s get you comfortable and something for the pain.” You nod and cling to him as he carries you to the bedroom.