#Eris x reader

[thatbloodymuggle]

MASTERMIND - MASTERLIST

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

PAIRING: Eris Vanserra x Reader

CHAPTERS: smut indicated by ***

prologue 

one - the equinox

two - falling water***

three - color theory***

four - moon and stars***

five - checkmate***

six - from ashes

seven - the manuscript

eight - the great war

nine - coming soon

[daycourtofficial]

Tell me I’m the only, only, only, only one - part 8

Pairing: Eris x Azriel x reader | WC: 5.9k | warnings: discussions of pain? idk

Summary: the aftermath of sleeping with Eris isn’t as confusing as you thought it would be. Things with Azriel are getting better in a way you hadn’t expected, until a discussion with Rhysand opens the two of you up to a new idea that might solve all of your problems

Author’s note: happy @polysjmweek !!! Yall have been feral for this and I’ve been doing my best to get this out. It’s a bit fillery, but we have to set some stuff up!!

Previous part | Masterlist

The afternoon passed in bed with Eris, the scent of Azriel becoming weaker and weaker as the minutes ticked by. Eris had asked you to try to inflict pain, allowing you to touch him without any hesitancy.

It was a strange sensation. You were used to stitching pieces back together (either by hand or by magic). Decades of your life were devoted to learning everything about the varieties of fae - different skeletal structures, the extra musculature of winged fae. Illness, disease, injury - you were a generalist, preferring to be able to treat any ailment you ran into.

But he insisted you try and try again, each attempt at streamlining your magic in the opposite direction going nowhere, leaving you exasperated and slightly embarrassed at failing before the Vanserra. Despite that, it was almost nice being in the cabin with him. He was still Eris, spouting off insults every five minutes. As the afternoon wore on, his barbed words seemed less sharp, almost lazily thrown in a half assed attempt.

But still you felt a deep ache inside of you, some small pang in the back of your throat like something wasn’t quite right.

After about an hour or so, you wanted to give up. It was just a theory Eris had - in all your years of studying and meeting healers, you had never heard of this ability. You became more exasperated with each attempt, growing more and more convinced this was Eris’s attempt at procuring his own amusement.

“Think of Azriel.” Eris’s voice had cut through the thick air of disappointment you were suffocating in. What did Azriel have to do with this? And why had he been so far from your own thoughts for hours, when he was always at the forefront of your mind these past few months?

“What?”

“Think of Azriel. Think of the arrows in his back and in his wings. You felt his pain. Now remember it.”

You took a deep breath, stilling yourself, allowing Eris’s words to wash over you. You closed your eyes, trying to step into the memory. You thought about the living room of the cabin, the open space with minimal decoration. Azriel’s shallow breaths filled your ears, only allowing yourself to breathe after each of his. Your nose twitched at the copper smell, how every part of you had been roaring at the scent of his blood. How you clung to hope, wanting that feeling to surge through your hands and make its way into Azriel’s skin. You wanted him pieced together with every bit of hope or happiness you harbored, his skin a mosaic of your affection.

Your stomach dropped at the memory, pouring yourself fully into the moment that was days past, not allowing yourself the comfort of knowing he is somewhere in Velaris and he is fine. You had to live in the past, reaching for that feralness you dampened way down. Every sense heightened, the pain you took from Azriel was on the tip of your fingers. You were giving the pain life, letting it live in the very tips of your hands, feed off your blood and energy. its sole creator.

If one's lucky, pain only lives on in memory. Now it lived at your fingertips, growing and festering, waiting to latch onto a new host.

You exhaled slowly, grabbing Eris’s hand one last time. You weren’t really sure what to do, so you just swirled patterns on the palm of his hand, your fingers moving up to his wrist but going no further. You were tracing nonsensical swirls to etch into his skin, maybe even his soul.

The male did not react, staying as still as he had during all of your other attempts. Your heart dropped at the disappointment, feeling shame creep up your neck at having Eris watch you fail again.

So much for him considering the two of you equals. Fitting he’d only consider someone capable of inflicting harm to be an equal.

Your ministrations stopped, the silence of the room stilling your movement. Every other time you had tried, each failure was met with some response from the redhead. Now he sat silent, a sight you had never seen before.

Slowly, you cracked open an eye, unsure of what you wished to see. His pale arm was still extended toward you, but the freckles were now hidden beneath raised red abrasions. Your path of swirls overlapped each other, but they were easy enough to still follow. They all made varying trails of raised red skin, some parts more scratched, others looking more like painful welts.

You gaped at him, surprised such a thing could come from you. Something took root in your chest - pride, maybe? Healing magic was one of the most well documented types of magic, one of the most common and most useful. A large percentage of high fae had varying degrees of healing powers - from accelerated self healing to regrowing limbs. And you had just done something never documented before. Perhaps never even accomplished before. A huge, cheesy grin overtook your face, and a shocked laugh came out as well.

“Even songbirds have claws, don’t they?”

Finally looking at Eris’s face, his sharp features were an attempt at indifference. He held his face neutrally, and weeks ago you would have been fooled, but his eyes gave him away. They sparkled a rich amber in the light, losing the dark edges to make way for something brighter.

Looking at him now, the mask peeled back enough to see his enjoyment, you knew this was the Eris that Azriel had fallen so in love with. So disarming not even centuries of hatred could withstand it.

-

You left the cabin behind you not long afterward, the door finally giving so the two of you could leave. Maybe the shadows heard your laughs, allowing your exit? Or maybe Azriel wasn’t willing to allow his mates to miss dinner?

Whatever the case, you were happy to winnow back to Velaris, your stomach desperate for food. You had a one track mind as you headed for one of your favorite restaurants, a casual, quaint restaurant that had your favorite booths to curl up in and read on lunch breaks. The glow of the restaurant met your eyes, but someone bumped into you, their shoulder hitting you lightly. You looked as they apologized, continuing to shuffle off before you could say anything, their brown hair swaying.

Your gaze lingered just long enough at their retreating form that you noticed the stationary shop you had passed by. Without thinking, you doubled back, walking inside to find perhaps the most gorgeous shop you’ve ever been inside. Dark wood floors and counters, notebooks and pens and every organizational need was color coded.

You get your bearings long enough to pick up some pens and a journal, not really thinking, just doing. Seeing the shop made you think of Azriel, his secret devotion to journaling offering you insight into his inner life.

The past few weeks had been a tangled web of emotion, a back and forth of what lay ahead of you. You needed to unscramble your own inner life, figuring out what you thought and how you felt and write down every detail to look back on. You paid for your supplies, cradling them beneath your arm as you walked back across the street before being recognized by your hostess. She immediately found a small booth, offering it to you before scurrying off.

The hum of other patrons, bits of their conversation, and the hustle of the staff allowed your mind enough background noise to sort out the day you had. This was exactly where you needed to be. Alone with your thoughts, but productive. Now you get to spend a few hours tucked into a booth, scribbling it all out. You started the journal where this whole saga began - when your mating bond with Azriel snapped into place. Four months now felt like a lifetime ago, but that first day was seared into your memory.

It was a usual day. You had gone to work. You had a few patients that needed immediate tending to, the four males having been lost in the woods for quite a while. They would be fine, but you had stayed late to ensure a continued watch, waiting for one of the other junior healers to take over for you.

In the chaotic stretch of time you and Madja were helping them, you hadn’t been aware of just how much time had passed until your patients had been stabilized and a large Illyrian had made his way into the workshop.

Azriel’s face betrayed nothing, except a bit of relief at you being alive in front of him. At the sight of him, you turned to the window, not having noticed the setting sun that had sent the place into darkness.

“Az! I hope you’re not upset with me, merely lost track of time.”

He looked over the four beds, the four males all tucked into multiple blankets, redness in their cheeks and noses.

“I can see that.”

“They’ve been in the woods for a week,” you whispered low enough so the patients would continue sleeping but Azriel would still hear. He hunched over slightly, getting closer to you as you continued. “Poor males lost themselves on the Atterage Slope.”

Azriel sucked in a breath, somewhat familiar with the rocky terrain. He looked at the males again, wondering how they managed to make it out that far.

“What were they doing out there? Usually only Illyrians go out that way. Uneven paths are difficult without wings.”

“Tell me about it.” You chortled. “They seem pretty young. I think they’re in their thirties.”

Azriel nodded as if it was reason enough, remembering the dumb adventures of his own youth. The ridiculous schemes Cassian and Rhysand had pulled him into. The few schemes of his own he pulled them into.

It was a miracle none of them were this bad off.

“Ah, to be young and so brave.”

“You sound old saying that.”

Azriel’s wings fluttered slightly, the slight gush of air causing you to snort. In that breath of a laugh, your world tilted as if you had lost your balance, but you hadn’t moved. The air held a heavy dusting of magic to it, your vision nearly sparkling with it. Everything felt stronger, some sense of connection holding you steady despite your wobbly knees.

Looking at Azriel now felt as if you were allowed to look at the sun. What it must feel like to gaze upon the one thing that gives everything life, every aspect of your world orbiting around it just for a flash of its warmth.

The breath caught in your throat, before allowing for a new inhale of air that somehow felt crisper, as if the oxygen in it knew you weren’t the same as you were thirty seconds ago. As if every piece of life were more intense now that your universe had an anchor.

Azriel was your anchor, your lifeline, your tether to this world. Someone who was supposed to see your darkest parts and love them. Someone who would do anything for you.

There were theories about mates. Some people thought it was a matter of fertility, others thought the Mother was selecting for complementary traits in mates. You always liked the idea that mates were what you weren’t, giving one a new perspective to consider.

Reflecting on that day, it felt silly to wait so long. Each attempt you made to tell him the truth that lingered on your tongue at all hours failed miserably. The timing never felt right, and as happy as you had been about it, you had needed some time to adjust.

You adored the shadowsinger, his company one you always enjoyed. But were either of you ready for a long term commitment? Feyre had told you over a glass of wine once that all Azriel had wanted was a mate, leaving him pining after females in hopes they were his.

You had spent so long devoted to your studies, and now as a junior healer, were truly feeling your stride. Flings and short term relationships happened, but nothing you’d ever want to commit to for a year, much less the rest of your life.

But you spent those four months observing Azriel. How he drank his coffee, how he liked to sit in front of windows in the morning to warm his wings, how he always sat next to you and was the first to get up if you wanted anything.

You saw his pessimism, catching glimpses of the self-loathing that threatened to drown him. Some deep part of you knew that if you were right about mates, if they were chosen for complementing each other, your optimism and hopefulness was exactly what he needed. And his loyalty and steadiness was what you needed from him.

But how did Eris play into all of this? What did he provide that Azriel needed?

All of your thoughts had been logged in your journal, your food here and gone in the time you spent in your mind, deciding it was time to go home.

You had no way of making it up to the House of Wind without a winged escort. You could winnow, allowing the drop to just bang you up a little. Or you could walk the ten thousand steps and continue to think.

Restlessness crept up inside you, your foot tapping to expel the nervous energy. The steps would take longer and allow you to clear your head a bit more, potentially allowing you to sneak in unnoticed.

But they would suck.

Nesta’s smug face appeared in your mind, echoing her sentiments of a ticking clock. You sighed, making your way into the stairwell, letting the stone help still your racing mind.

-

***

The ascent hadn’t been as bad as you thought, even though your thighs were on fire. You couldn’t look over the side of the stairs, the dizzying height enough to make you want to hug the wall as you climbed up the quiet stairwell.

But you made it. Barely breathing, but you made it.

All you wanted was to collapse into bed, or to even lean against the doorframe for a few minutes, but if you stopped now, it’d take you ages to get back up. Rest was not an option until you were sure it would be hours before you’d expect to rise again.

The house was quiet as you crept through it, the pain in your legs sending hissing sounds from your mouth with each step. The halls were dark, a stillness in the air only there when all three of your roommates were away for training. The stairs to your bedroom were so close, you just have to make it through the kitchen where you can easily creep past Nesta and Cassian’s floor and make it to where yours and Azriel’s chambers lie.

“Have fun wherever you snuck off to?”

You stilled, Cassian’s booming voice bouncing off the walls of the stairwell. The laugh behind the words wasn’t quite right, a bit stilted for the usually jovial Illyrian.

“I didn’t do much sneaking.” Cassian shrugged as if you hadn’t said anything at all, either completely ignoring the lie or not believing it.

“Elain dropped off some cookies earlier. Want one? Otherwise I’ll eat them all and Nesta will be mad I didn’t save you any.” You turned, coming back down the stairs as he held out the box stiffly. The cookies did look great, a sweet aroma wafting from them you had missed in your panic to get to your room.

“Couldn’t you just not eat them all?”

His jaw clicked, the slight grind of his teeth loud enough for you to hear. He rummaged through the box before he held out a cookie, pointing it at your neck. “Couldn’t help myself. Just like whatever leech you tangled with today.”

Your hand flew to your neck, trying to shield whatever hickeys laid there. Beneath one of your fingers the skin was tender to the touch, a sure sign of Eris’s pleasure. You untucked your hair, draping it over your neck in a shameful attempt to hide away the day’s activities. The movement wafted the scent of Eris through the air, a quick momentary flash of pale skin and bedsheets, his intoxicating scent of whiskey and bonfire leaving you hungry for more than the cookie in front of you.

Cassian just watched, his outstretched arm acting as a guide to the marks on your now semi-covered neck. The two of you stared at each other, neither conceding in this strange standoff. The general was almost disappointed and upset to find you in such a state, as if he were your jilted lover.

You hadn’t done anything wrong. Not even the mating bond in your chest was upset.

So why was Cassian?

You gave up, snatching the cookie from his hand a bit more forcefully than you should have.

“Does Azriel know?”

You choked on your cookie, coughing lightly. Heat climbed up your chest at Cassian’s question and the fact that you could feel a slight ache in between your legs. You crossed them, trying to limit the smell of your arousal from making its way to Cassian.

“Yes. Azriel knows.” He didn’t - at least not yet. There was no way to properly tell your mate you slept with his other mate.

But he knew you were with Eris. Was the reason you were with Eris.

It was Cassian’s fault for not specifying.

He eyed you wearily, not touching the cookies as you turned from him, ascending the stairs and away from his scrutinizing gaze.

-

Your first day back at work was less than fantastic. Madja hovered over your shoulder, watching your every move. You bit your tongue the whole day, knowing better than to ask her to give you space. She’d respond with some variation of ‘I don’t want to, but you leave me no choice’ or ‘I trained you to not burnout, what other teachings have you foregone?’

Easy, menial tasks filled your day, but your mind was so numb by the end you walked much more leisurely to where you usually meet up with Azriel. Your feet strolled the familiar path, everything familiar and ordinary while you felt anything but.

You could have mentioned to Madja the progress you had made with Eris, but it felt too much like a secret between the two of you. You also didn’t want to tell anyone before fully gaining control over it. You were able to hurt him once. You needed more practice, more control over it.

You had soaked in the tub for a long while last night, scrubbing away all traces of Eris. Your neck had healed overnight, gone were the purple and red marks Cassian had seen in the kitchen. Though they were gone, you still felt their bite whenever you pressed into the skin, the dull pain enough of a reminder that it had been real and not some figment of your imagination.

Catching sight of Azriel at the end of the road sent flutters through your stomach, your mind restarting again as you blinked away the mundanity of your day. You couldn’t stop the smile that broke out on your face, your steps quicker to reach him. The matching smile on his face was like a siren song, pulling you to him.

“You are a nice sight after the day I’ve had, even if you did lock me in a cabin yesterday.”

It surprised you how light you felt seeing him. The past few weeks his face had made you into a melting pot of emotion, but now you only felt calm. Even if he had locked you in a cabin, the outcome was quite fruitful for you, so your ire was in short supply.

“Surely any face is better than boils and warts.”

“None of those today. Just Madja lecturing me every ten minutes. I hope your day fared better.”

His eyes twinkled as he looked down at you, a few of his shadows gently rolled down your arms, intertwining in your fingers. Their cool touch was familiar, a stark contrast to the heat that had radiated from Eris’s skin the previous day.

“Not much better. Tedious. Annoying brothers.”

“Oh, not both of them I hope.”

“Rhys wasn’t too bad, Cassian was the main bother.” You grimaced, lightly toeing your shoe in the street.

“That might be my fault. He found me when I came home last night and he force fed me a cookie.” His eyebrows raised at that, a confused laugh coming from him.

“Why didn’t you say no to the cookie?”

“It was one of Elain’s, who am I to turn that down?”

“Have you eaten anything since the cookie?”

You thought back over your day, the wearisome day not even broken up with a nice break for food.

“I had some coffee this morning.”

“That’s not food.”

You rolled your eyes, lightly jabbing him in the ribs with a finger. At that moment, your stomach decided to growl loudly enough to bring a slight smirk to Azriel’s face.

“Are you doing anything tonight? We could get dinner somewhere.”

“Yeah? Where would you want to go?” You stepped closer, invading his space. He smelled just like he always did, that comforting scent of night chilled mist and cedar that felt like a romanticized version of camping. You picked up hints of the bonfire smell that clung to Eris, melding so perfectly with Azriel’s scent it was practically hidden to everyone but you.

“Do you like comfort food?”

“Love it.”

“Then it’s a surprise.”

“So full of secrets.”

He only smiled, his arms wrapping around the backs of your legs and your shoulders, quickly pulling you into his chest before shooting off into the sky. Your laughter echoed down the street, bouncing down the alleyway.

How many times have you been cradled by him as he soared through the skies, his great wings beating against the air? The number could be in the thousands and it would not matter. Your heart stalled each time, and if you looked down you were sure to find the organ in the place you had just stood.

“You’re cruel!” You shouted over the wind directly into his ear. He flinched at your volume.

“I believe cruelty is in my job title.”

“I believe it has a stipulation that you’re not allowed to be cruel to me.”

“Forgive me. I’m not a fan of such formalities as titles.”

“You brought it up!” Azriel landed the two of you onto the balcony, his feet cushioning the impact. You laughed into his ear, incredulous and loud, not adjusting for the stillness his landing provided.

“Must you assign blame for everything?”

The sun cast away his shadows, his smile bright as the warm rays hit his wings. He looked wonderfully happy, practically glowing in the light. You weren’t sure you had ever seen him so happy. His eyes were on your face, golden flecks nearly blinding with joy.

“Ah, great for you two to join us!” Rhys’s voice burst the bubble, Azriel’s beaming face turning into a scowl before he looked at his brother. The spell was broken, the shadows back over his face before speaking.

“What is this?” His grip on you slackened, your body practically spilling from his arms. You stood unsteadily, not expecting the sudden loss of him. Gaining your balance, you looked around to find several familiar faces around the usually empty dining table. Despite it being Cassian and Nesta’s home, Rhysand sat at the head with Feyre on his left, Cassian and Nesta on his right.

They all looked serious, their faces not giving anything away. You knew Nesta and Rhys were usually at odds, but to see them seemingly united on some front slightly concerned you. Nesta wouldn’t even look at you, her jaw tight as she looked at Rhys.

“We wanted to discuss something with you.” Rhysand was clearly the one taking charge with whatever this intervention was. Azriel stood guarded, one of his wings slightly blocking you to keep him between you and his family. He stayed silent, waiting for Rhysand to say more.

“The gala in Hewn City is next week - Eris will be attending.” Azriel stiffened next to you, the color draining from his face. Everyone else was quiet, Azriel’s plea loud at the pause. “Rhysand-“

Rhys put his hands up, leaning back in his chair, his eyes focused on you, not even looking at his brother.

“Well he does like you, doesn’t he?”

“What? What’s the problem, Az?” Azriel ignored you, his glare fixed in Rhys, only occasionally flickering to Cassian. None of what Rhys was saying made any sense. What do you have to do with Eris and Hewn City? And why was Azriel acting like it was a death sentence?

“Surely you don’t think Eris is so foolish to fall for the same trick a second time.” Gone was Azriel’s joyous laughter, his voice on the precipice of violence.

“Somehow I think it’ll work quite well this time.” Rhys looked at you, every ounce a feline predator having found their next meal. You stepped back at his gaze, never having felt so pinned in place before. “Won’t it?”

The question lingered in the air, but you still weren’t quite understanding. They were gaps in your knowledge, but you had always figured Rhysand wouldn’t leave you in the dark quite like this.

“Azriel, I don’t- what’s he talking about?”

“Yes, Azriel. What are we talking about?” Rhys cocked his head at Azriel, mimicking your questioning tone.

“They want to offer you as bait to Eris. Charm him to what - propose?”

Rhysand finally turned to his brother, violet eyes desperately searching into Azriel’s. You could feel Azriel’s apprehension and rage through the bond - he felt like a cornered animal, ready to attack and maim at any minute.

You still weren’t quite getting what the problem was. No one other than Rhys would look at you, their eyes focused on the ringleader of this intervention. But interventions had a reason, one you were only tangentially understanding.

You had spoken to Nesta before of Eris, asking her if he was as difficult as he seemed. It was practically a lifetime ago when you told her you pitied the fae mated to him. Looking at Azriel, you felt heat creep up your chest and neck at how wrong you had been.

“We can’t let potential allies slip through our fingers, Azriel.”

Rhys deflated just slightly, clearly unsatisfied with what he found in Azriel. He turned back to you, sizing up his prey. It sent shivers down your spine. You looked to Nesta again, looking for some sense of solidarity, of not feeling like a cow at auction, but she gave you none, only looking at the table in silence.

“Think about it, sleep on it, give me an answer in a few days.”

Azriel’s palm was gentle as it pressed against your back, quickly ushering you from the room, shielding your body with his wings. His long strides conveyed his urgency to get you out of there, your own feet barely keeping up with his speed.

Azriel pushed you into your room, his shadows scoping every inch of the room, tugging on every door and window, ensuring the room was secure. His face darkened, his hands almost shaking with rage. You had never seen him like this, his anger chilling the room by a few degrees.

“I can’t believe they’d do this. Suggest this. Allow you, urge you to marry him.” Every word was hurried and rushed, each a half formed thought you didn’t fully follow. His words were biting, but you didn’t flinch nor back down.

“I don’t understand, Az. Eris isn’t the evil villain they think he is.” You were certain you could talk him down, get him to see that this isn’t the death sentence he’s acting like it is.

“Thankfully. But they don’t know that. They’re offering you to this evil monstrous version of him. As well as marching you straight to Beron.”

He was practically on high alert, his body still guarding you, his shoulders straight and ready for any enemy attack.

You had forgotten about Beron. For one brief moment, you had forgotten the danger that Eris lived in constantly.

“I will be okay.” You didn’t have any reason for such confidence, but deep in your chest you knew it to be true. You knew Eris wouldn’t allow any harm to come to you.

“I don’t like this. I don’t like how they’ve banded together on this.” You could practically hear how loud he was thinking, his mind racing as he paced back and forth in front of you.

“They know something.”

It came through like a clang, the thought rattling around your mind.

“They think they can use me to get Eris to do whatever they want.”

Azriel looked at you, realization dawning on his features. His lips parted, making a slight ‘o’ as he stared, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

“They want to use him through you.”

You nodded, your jaw ticking at the idea of making anyone beholden to them through their mate.

“They think he’s my mate.”

You wanted to tell Azriel about your romp in the sheets with Eris. The urge wasn’t coming from a place of guilt, but rather just the urge to confide in him, to ask him what it could mean.

But now didn’t feel like the right time. There were more pressing matters.

“They think he’s my mate.” It was half-formed, the idea coming through to you. How you could play this, how all of this could play out. As nosey and annoying as Azriel’s family was, they may have just handed the two of you the perfect card.

“Azriel, this could solve everything. I go to Autumn as Eris’s bride..” you trailed off, hoping he would pick up on your train of thought. A moment later he was standing straighter, his shadows moving to swirl on the floor instead of at his shoulders.

“And I could join you as a guard, as your protector.”

“Do you think Beron would allow that? He’d assume you’re there to spy.”

He thought for a long while, his face scrunching with the effort of concentration. He was still annoyed, but his breathing was slowing down, his stance relaxing.

“It would allow me to visit Autumn more without them becoming suspicious at least.”

A hazy plan was forming between you two. Could this actually work? You certainly weren’t Eris’s favorite person, but surely you could get along well enough to live together. And maybe he could provide some protections for you against Beron.

“I think there’s more to-“ he was cut off by someone at your door, three quick knocks telling you exactly who it was. Azriel disappeared into the shadows in your closet as the door opened, Nesta making her way into your room. She looked around the space, expecting to find someone.

“I heard voices.”

“You’re hearing things, Nesta.” You were a bit cross with her, unable to help the betrayal you felt as she allowed Rhys to offer you up to Eris. Nesta had been your friend and watching her sit idly by as you continued asking questions, not understanding, only enraged you more.

“I didn’t know. I didn’t know Rhys was going to ask you to do this.” She looked sincere, the care for you she harbored clear across her face.

“It’s fine, Nesta.” It wasn’t, but you wanted her to leave so you could keep talking to Azriel. You didn’t want to have this conversation now, didn’t want her to know how happy it would make you.

“No. I didn’t - I think Cassian told him.”

“Told him what?”

“That I think you and Eris are mates.”

Wherever Azriel was, you were sure he was listening. You felt tingly at having figured it out yourself, but you played dumb, the shocked expression on your face was one that was just fake enough to continue to lead her on this trail of thinking.

“Why would you think that?” You had already deduced their idea, but you didn’t quite know why. Her eyes tracked the book that still laid on your nightstand, the book you had gotten in secret to mourn the mating bond between you and Azriel.

“Is that the secret? Is that what you can’t tell me? Azriel knows, right? He’s been covering for you.”

“Yes.” The lie rolled off your tongue, “Azriel knows.”

You hated lying to Nesta, the action nearly giving you a rash somewhere on your shoulder. It was your one tell, but you couldn’t give it up now. You’d let them think you and Eris were mates, slowly easing them into the actual reality of how messy and entangled yours, Azriel, and Eris’s lives were.

It was a bit silly. Surely Azriel could just tell his loved ones about his own mateship.

But now, looking at Nesta and seeing the depths of pity in her gaze, you knew why Azriel had never told them.

For a moment, you wondered if that’s how they’d look at him if he told them of your mating. Would they be happy it wasn’t Eris for you? Your heart panged a bit, so much heartache and pain over Eris.

“I didn’t tell you because I had a hard time believing it myself.” You chuckled self-deprecatingly, rubbing your arm as you stood awkwardly. “You caught me.”

If she thought you were lying, she didn’t say. Or give anything away to indicate it.

“Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad.” You looked up only to find her face full of resolve. “I’m much younger than all of you and unaware of the full history, but Eris seems… well, surely if the Mother mated the two of you it was for a good reason.”

“Perhaps good breeding stock.” Nesta shook her head, looking you over.

“No, there’s something about you. There must be something about him, too. He’s very lucky.”

The two of you stared at each other for a few moments, letting the silence wash over you. Eventually Nesta lightly clapped her hands together before saying, “well, I’ll be off for the evening. I have to pick a fight with my mate for bringing Rhysand into all of this.”

You gave her a small wave before she turned around, closing your door softly as she exited. You listened as her footsteps retreated down the hall and down the stairs, the house now quiet before Azriel rematerialized before you.

“Do you want to come with me to see Eris? I’ll need to brief him on the plan.” Your feelings toward the redhead had become so complicated, you weren’t sure if you wanted to see him or not. The mating bond roared in your chest, some territorial ache winning out over the idea of watching the mated pair interact.

“I’ll stay behind.”

Scarred hands held the back of your head, pulling you closer, his lips gently meeting your forehead. The action warmed you down to your toes, such intimacy from Azriel a rarity you cherished.

“Be safe. I’ll be back.”

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-angst @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader @milswrites @the-golden-jhope @hannzoaks @secretlyhers @tothestarsandwhateverend @sarawritestories @chxosangxl @quiet-loser @thegreyjoyed @paankhaleyaaar @acoazlove

Azriel taglist: @brieflyclassymortal @thisiskaylin @magicstrengthandcourage @book-obsessed124 @slytherintaco @userxs-blog @emryb

Eris taglist: @magicstrengthandcourage @book-obsessed124

[batboysanonymous]

The Quiet of Your Flame

Eris Vanserra x Reader

Summary: They said fire was cruel, devastating, but they never warned you how gentle it could be in the hands of the one who loved you most.

The wind outside the Autumn Court howled, lashing against the golden-streaked glass panes as if jealous of the warmth within. But inside, beneath the weight of roaring hearthlight and the hush of velvet silence, you were curled between the legs of Eris Vanserra.

His thighs bracketed your hips, strong and unmoving, a fortress of warmth around you. One of his arms was thrown lazily over your middle while the other toyed with the frayed edge of the book in your lap, fingers grazing your stomach in a rhythm you were certain was unconscious. Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe Eris knew exactly what he was doing.

Because he always did.

“I can hear your thoughts screaming,” you murmured, not looking up from the page.

The tip of his nose brushed against the back of your neck, his breath warm. “I’m contemplating how you look better in my colors than I ever have.”

You turned the page slowly, forcing yourself to ignore the butterflies that comment ignited. It was like this with him—always. Constant, quiet affection. In public, Eris was the untouchable flame, all snarled elegance and too-sharp words. But in private, when the world shrank to just the two of you and a fire lit to soothe his trauma-riddled bones, he became something else entirely.

Yours.

“You’re not even reading, are you?” you teased, glancing down at the book now abandoned in your lap.

Eris shifted behind you, and the arm around your waist tightened. His hand splayed across your abdomen, warm and possessive, while his head dropped to your shoulder.

“I’m reading you,” he said softly.

Your heart fluttered, then stumbled. Even after months of this—months of being mates, of learning the cadence of one another’s breaths and bodies—it never stopped catching you off guard when he said things like that.

“I should be annoyed by how smooth that was,” you said.

“And yet,” Eris hummed, “you’re leaning further into me.”

You hadn’t even realized you were doing it. Your spine had curved, your head now resting just below his jaw. The fire cracked softly behind you both, golden light pooling over the rug, over your bare feet tucked between his calves.

A silence settled. Not the tense kind—the kind you grew up dreading, fearing what came next. No, this was the gentle hush of contentment, where your body could breathe without defense, where your heart no longer had to beat like a war drum just to be heard.

Eris, always attuned to your moods, nuzzled the crown of your head. “Do you remember the first time you let me touch you like this?”

You did.

It had been a stormy night, not unlike this one, but everything had felt raw. New. You hadn’t trusted him yet—not entirely. Not the court, not the idea of soulmates. But he had waited. He’d read beside you with three feet of space between you both. Until, slowly, you’d crept closer. Inching, as if you feared he’d run if you touched him. But it had been him who stilled, holding his breath like a fragile thing when your fingers had brushed his thigh.

“I remember,” you whispered. “I didn’t think you’d let me.”

“You could set me on fire,” Eris said against your skin, “and I’d thank you for the warmth.”

Gods.

You turned then, adjusting until your legs draped over his lap and your body curled into his chest, your cheek pressed to the slow, steady beat of his heart. He welcomed you immediately, wrapping his arms around you and tugging you in like he couldn’t bear even a sliver of space between your souls.

This, you thought. This was who he was.

Not the High Lord’s heir with his biting tongue and crimson court. But the male who held you like he was afraid of waking from a dream.

“I love you like this,” you whispered. “When you let yourself be held.”

“I only ever wanted to be held by you,” he replied, his fingers already tracing the curve of your spine. “No one else ever touched me and made me feel... real.”

You stilled against him.

Because you knew what he meant.

How many years had he worn armor carved from silence? How many centuries had he been touched like a weapon, never a man?

Your hand slipped under his tunic, resting directly over his bare back. His body arched into the contact like it was instinct. Maybe it was.

“I want to kiss you,” he said.

You smiled, lifting your head. “Then kiss me.”

And he did.

It wasn’t rushed. It never was with him. Not in these moments, not when his hands were reverent and his mouth slow and certain. He kissed you like he was studying the pages of a book he never wanted to end. He kissed you like you were ink and starlight.

When he finally pulled back, your foreheads touched.

“You undo me,” he murmured. “Every time.”

You kissed the corner of his mouth. “Then let me put you back together.”

He leaned into your touch, his eyes glowing with something soft and golden. “You already have.”

You could’ve lived in that moment. Would’ve, if the world allowed. But eventually, your limbs tangled, and the fire’s glow dimmed, and you found yourselves stretched out fully on the rug, your head now pillowed on his chest while he read aloud.

His voice was a low, lulling timbre, reading stories of gods and mortals and beasts who found each other in darkness.

You reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his.

He squeezed once. “You make it quiet,” he said, not looking away from the book. “In my head. You make it stop.”

“I know,” you said. “You do the same for me.”

No promises were made.

None needed.

Because this was the promise: the steady touch of his hand in yours. The press of your body against his. The warmth of his fire as it lit the darkness between your ribs.

The quiet of love unspoken, but always understood.

And when you both finally fell asleep on the rug beneath the ember sky, it wasn’t to dreams of courts or war or pain.

It was only each other.

And that was enough.

Taglist: @fanficscuziranout, @willowpains, @lilah-asteria, @lreadsstuff, @flintthegoodboyo, @saltedcoffeescotch, @okaytrashpanda, @marina468, @tele86, @raccoonworld

Want to join my tag list? Drop a comment or check out this link to submit a specific series you would like tagged in! (Or if you just don't want to comment, that's okay too)

[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.”

[danikamariewrites]

Wedding Night

Eris x reader

Note: It’s finally here! Eris and innocent!readers wedding is here! This doesn’t mean the corruption “series” is ending, I definitely have some fics to add here and there. I’m sorry this is late as well. The day just kinda got away from me.

Warnings: smut, p in v, oral f receiving

Bliss. Eris felt nothing but pure bliss. The day had been perfect. Marrying his mate in the afternoon and now Eris found himself overjoyed by the reception.

The ceremony was beautiful. Your first dance was the most intimate moment you and Eris have shared. He committed it to his memory and promised he would never forget it.

You looked breathtaking as Eris led you across the dance floor. Your gown flowing with your movements. Eris couldn’t stop beaming at you.

As you go around the room after dinner to greet your guests Eris occasionally squeezes your hand to reassure you that he won’t pull away from you. Nothing can separate the two of you now.

Compliment after compliment has you blushing as you and Eris make your way around the ballroom. Your guests ecstatic to have a moment with the bride and groom. With each kind word your cheeks tint a new shade of pink. Your long lashes blinking furiously as you try to hide your bashfulness.

Eris’s selfishness won after an hour of this, wanting his wife for himself now. Pulling you onto the dance floor Eris places his hand on your hip to lead you in a slow dance. You’re positive your dress has his hand print on it now since it’s been there all day. He presses his lips to yours for a soft kiss, making you smile.

“My wife. My mate.” Eris murmurs. Your smile widens and the blush on your cheeks deepens.

“My husband. My mate.” Eris smiles back at you. “I’m so happy.” He gushes. “So unbelievably happy, my heart.” Tears prick your eyes. You try to blink them away quickly so as to not ruin your makeup.

“I’m happy too, Eris. Happy it’s you who will love me forever.” Eris' smile grows bigger than he thought possible, pressing another kiss to your lips. This one was different. It made Eris’ want for you obvious. Your fingers tangle in his perfectly styled hair. Pulling at the long strands so you’re fully pressed against each other.

Break apart Eris takes a shuddering breath. The heat of the kiss has his heart racing. Taking your hands in his Eris presses kisses across your knuckles making you giggle. “I think I’ve had enough of the festivities.” You tilt your head curiously. Wondering why he would want to leave the party meant for the two of you. Eris smiles at the movement. Your innocence—what’s left of it—is still amusing and sweet to him. Still has him dying to show you more. The thought of ruining you fully has his cock hardening. “Are you ready for our alone time, my heart?”

Your eyes widen at the realization of what Eris is insinuating. An excited smirk pulls at your lips as you nod at your husband.

Eris wastes no time pulling you out of the ballroom toward his bedroom. Your room now too. He had your handmaidens move your things this morning while you got ready for the wedding. Halfway there Eris pulls you into his arms, carrying you bridal style. Overcome with the need for your husband you attach you lips to his neck. Kissing and biting the expanse of pale skin, attempting to leave your mark on him. Eris lets out a low growl that rumbles through his chest.

You’re thrilled that you and Eris are finally taking this special step. He didn’t want your first time to be consummating the mating bond, afraid it would be too much for you.

When you brought up the subject Eris had told you he wanted your first time to be special, not overwhelmed with crazed feelings. “I want to take my time with you, my heart. To worship you slowly and learn every inch of you,” he had said.

Eris places you gently in the bed. Pulling you away from his neck slowly as he leans over you. Staring into each other’s eyes the bond in your chests sing. Pulling you toward each other.

You trace your finger over his sharp cheekbones and down the bridge of his nose, tapping his full lips. Eris leans down and kisses you. Your lips move slowly against one another. Both of you want more but also want to cherish this moment.

Moving down your body he nips and kisses at your exposed chest making you sigh. His hands slide under your back swiftly undoing the ribbon keeping your dress tight. You sit up, Eris helping you shimmy out of the silk and tulle gown. Instead of throwing it to the ground he gets up and sets it carefully on your vanity seat.

You watch Eris quickly strip out of his formal wear down to his boxers. Your eyes tracing the lines of his body. His muscles flexing as he moved. You also catch the faint, healed scars all over his torso. Your heart twinges thinking about how your mate got those. How could someone ever hurt Eris?

You push those thoughts from your mind as he jumps back into bed, kneeling in front of you. You wrap your arms around his neck pulling him back into a heated kiss. Eris’ hands roam your body. Squeezing your butt you wrap your legs around his waist letting him lay you down. His hardness rubs between your thighs making you jump a little.

You feel wetness pooling in your panties as you grind against Eris. He holds your hips, guiding your movements.

Breaking the kiss he moves to lay between your legs. Kissing along your stomach and the band of your panties. “Let me slip these off you baby, yeah?” His low voice sends a chill through your body. You nod, barely able to get your words out. “Yes.”

Eris hooks his fingers in your white lace panties, pulling them down your legs in one quick motion. The kisses he presses to your legs has you melting against the bed. The need for more growing with each peck as he makes his way to your center.

“Eris,” you moan. “Yes, my heart?” You stumble to find the words as you prop yourself up. Nervous to tell him what you crave. Looking down at Eris you find a predator staring back at you. Ready to pounce at your command. “Say it y/n. Tell me what you want.”

“You. All of you, Eris.”

Eris licks his lips, his chest heaving. His hands slide up your body, groping your breasts. “Then I’ll give it to you.” You cover his hands with yours. Dragging your nails down his arms giving him chills.

Eris kisses just below your bellybutton, his mouth closing around your clit. As he sucks and licks you fall back against the bed, closing your eyes, letting out breathy sighs.

Gods your husband already knows you so well. Those days the two of you spent alone exploring each other have been your favorite with Eris so far. Tonight might change all of that. You’re excited to have him in all the ways you’ve wanted. To put together the pieces of everything he’s taught you.

A moan falls from your lips as Eris insterts a finger. Moving in and out against that sweet spot that has your hands flying to his shoulders, digging your nails into the pale skin.

That euphoric sensation building. Your orgasm rushing through you, Eris’ name coming out like a prayer as he lets up on your clit.

Eris lets go, giving you a moment to catch your breath. You tangle your fingers in his long, fiery hair. Pulling Eris flush to your pussy you feel him smirk before he starts to eat you out again. Your second orgasm builds fast. The sensation becoming too much. Grinding against Eris’ mouth your thighs shake as Eris moves an arm across your hips to hold you still.

This is more than Eris has done to you being together. You revel at the overstimulation. Happy to let go and have Eris take control.

Once the aftershocks wear off Eris pulls away from you wiping your juices from his lips. Ripping his boxers off you watch his hardened length. Your mouth waters at the sight as you remember the last time you had your mouth wrapped around him, torturing him with that innocent doe eyed look.

You give him that same look now making him groan. Eris slots himself between your thighs. You wrap your arms around his shoulders as he lowers himself on top of you. Kissing up his neck and across his jaw Eris starts slowly grinding his cock against your center.

“Fuck, I love you. Love these little sounds you make. So good for me, my sweet wife.” Eris praises, kissing your forehead. “I’m ready Eris.” He hovers above you, your noses touching. “Please,” you whisper, desperate for him. Eris kisses you hard and quick. “We’re gunna go slow, ok. Tell me if it’s too much or you want to stop.”

You nod against the pillow. “Ok love.” Eris smiles at you, kissing you one more time. “Good girl.” You blush at that. You want to give Eris a reason to call you a good girl every day now.

Eris positions your legs so they wrap around his hips. He drags his cock through your wet folds, slowly inserting himself inside you.

Your eyes screw shut at the feeling. Holding onto Eris you breathe through the tightness waiting for it to turn into pleasure. You didn’t realize you were whimpering until Eris was softly shushing you, smoothing down your hair. “Do you want to stop?”

Shaking your head vehemently your eyes fly open. “No! No, I’m ok. Please Eris, please,” you beg. “Ok, ok. I won’t stop.” He reassures you.

Eris continues to to sink into you. The pain subsides and a pleasant heat floods your body. Eris pulls his hips back slowly, his thick cock dragging against your walls.

The small smile on your lips urges him to keep going. Picking up the pace of his strokes.

You moan and curse each time Eris slams back into you. “Gods you feel perfect.” Eris groans. “You were made just for me. My perfect mate.”

“Yes, just for you Er. All for you.”

You claw at his back leaving angry, red scratches on his skin. That feeling in your tummy comes back faster than you want. Having Eris buried inside you is just…right. You want to stay like this with him forever.

“Eris, I’m almost, I-” Eris moans, holding you flush to his chest. “I know baby, I can feel it. I’m almost there. Let go for me, yeah. Come on my cock, I know you can.”

You dig your nails into his skin harder and let go. Your orgasm hits you hard this time. Three in one night is the most Eris has given you. You go limp against the bed but don’t dare let go of Eris. You press quick kisses to his cheek, urging him to let go.

You feel his release as his hips stutter. Eris drops his head to rest on your chest, squeezing your hips gently. Your heart pounds against your ribs as you try to calm down.

Eris pulls out of you slowly, drawing out a whimper from you. He rolls onto his back pulling you to lay on his chest. You get nervous at the silence, clearing your throat. “Give me a second.” He says, laying a hand between your shoulder blades.

“You were perfect, my heart. Absolutely perfect. One more minute then we’ll go again.” You feel a little excitement spike in your chest. “Perfect.”

[prythianpages]

*sneak peak of reader & Az in a future part of The Mark You Left Behind*

Azriel: How’s the food poisoning doing?

Reader: Actually…I’m pregnant.

Azriel: *pretends to be shocked*

Reader:…it’s Eris’s…

Azriel: *pretends to be shocked 2.0*

Meanwhile, Azriel’s shadows:

[moonlitstoriess]

Binding Lies- Eris Vanserra x fem!reader (mini-series) part 8

Summary: When Y/N, Azriel's secret half-sister who lives far away, and Eris Vanserra form a strategic contractual marriage to further their own agendas, what begins as a carefully crafted arrangement soon becomes more complicated. As they pretend to be a perfect couple, the lines between duty and desire blur, and neither is prepared for the consequences.

See masterlist

Previous part

A/N: Aaand I'm back with another long awaited part!! We got a lot of mystery going on over here in this part and I wonder what was Eris truly up to?🤔I guess you guys will have to handle my cliffhanger and have patience for now lol😆

Warnings: violence, angst

The world had narrowed to this.

To the heat of his mouth on hers, the rough grip of his hands on her waist, the water swirling around them as they pressed together in the grand fountain. Y/N could still feel the way he had growled against her lips, the way his hands had tightened when she pulled him closer, as if he needed this just as much as she did.

And gods help her—she had let him.

For the first time since she had stepped into this wretched court, she wasn’t thinking. She wasn’t calculating her next move, wasn’t keeping her walls up.

She was feeling.

Feeling the way Eris’s body pressed against hers, the way his wet clothes clung to his frame, how his sharp inhale seemed to shudder through her bones. She had felt the hesitation, the warring conflict within him—but he hadn’t stopped. Hadn’t pulled away.

Neither had she.

Her fingers curled tighter in his damp hair, the other hand splaying across his firm chest as he pulled her impossibly closer, his lips moving against hers in a way that sent heat curling low in her stomach. Her body was weightless in the water, but his grip anchored her, as if he needed her there.

And then—

“Eris!”

The world slammed back into focus.

A voice, sharp and impatient, rang out in the distance.

“Eris, father is looking for you!”

A bucket of ice could not have chilled her more.

Y/N froze—and so did he.

For a heartbeat, neither of them moved. The water rippled around them, their breaths still uneven, mingling in the heavy silence. She could feel the thundering of her own pulse, the way her heart clawed at her ribs.

And then she felt it.

The moment Eris registered what had just happened.

The shift was instantaneous.

The warmth in his eyes—the fire, the hunger—vanished. His golden gaze went distant, his entire body rigid. His hands, which had just moments ago been gripping her like she was something precious, let go.

And then he was gone.

Not physically—he was still right there, still standing in the water with her. But emotionally? Mentally?

A wall slammed into place between them, colder and more unyielding than the mountain ranges.

He stepped back, retreating from her touch like it disgusted him. The space between them grew, the swirling water filling the absence where his body had just been.

Y/N’s breath hitched, her chest tightening as she stared at him, still reeling.

Still feeling his touch burning into her skin.

And yet—his expression was blank. Cold. Impassive.

Like she was nothing.

Her lips parted, her breath uneven as she tried to find something—anything—to say. But Eris spoke first.

“This never happened.”

The words were quiet. Final.

Y/N blinked, her stomach lurching.

He wasn’t looking at her. Wouldn’t look at her.

It felt like a slap, like someone had ripped her from that intoxicating moment and thrown her onto the cold, hard ground.

The ache in her chest was immediate.

But before she could say anything, before she could even process what had just happened, Eris turned and started striding toward the edge of the fountain.

“Eris—” she choked out.

He didn’t stop. Didn’t pause.

“Come out a little later after me,” he ordered flatly, voice devoid of anything—anything at all. And then, just as he reached the fountain’s edge, pulling himself up with effortless grace, he added, “I’ll make sure no one is on the path when you go to your chambers.”

And just like that, he was gone.

Y/N stood frozen in the water, her wet dress clinging to her skin, her hands trembling as she touched her own lips—as if trying to convince herself that the kiss had actually happened.

As if she hadn’t just imagined it.

But the taste of him was still there. The ghost of his touch still lingered.

Yet now—instead of warmth, all she felt was ice.

Her breathing was uneven, her mind spinning in a thousand directions.

Eris had kissed her. He had kissed her. Had pulled her into him like he needed her, like he couldn’t stop himself—

And then he had shut her out completely.

Had thrown up his walls, had erased the moment with a few cold words.

Had discarded her as if it meant nothing.

Her hands clenched into fists beneath the water, anger curling in her gut—but beneath that anger, beneath the irritation, the humiliation—was hurt.

She shouldn’t be hurt. She had known this would happen. Had expected it.

But it still stung.

Biting down hard on her lip, she sucked in a sharp breath and forced herself to move. She waded toward the edge of the fountain, her limbs feeling heavier with each step.

And as she pulled herself out—dripping, cold, and empty—only one thought rang in her mind.

She had just made a mistake.

And she would be regretting it very, very soon.

The corridors were empty. Not a single soul in sight.

Y/N stalked forward, her feet squelching with every step, water dripping from her clothes and hair, leaving a trail in her wake. It was as if the entire manor had been cleared out just for her passage—no servants bustling about, no courtiers whispering behind their hands, no guards stationed at their usual posts.

Her breath came sharp, ragged. How the hell had he done it?

Eris had ensured that no one would see her like this. That she would make it back to her chambers unseen.

And for what?

Because he’s ashamed? Because the thought of someone catching us, drenched and disheveled, would disgust him?

The idea burned through her, hot and ugly.

Of course he’s embarrassed, she seethed. Eris Vanserra, heir to the Autumn Court, would never allow himself to be seen like this—with me.

Her hands curled into fists.

Did he wipe his mouth after? Did he regret it the moment it ended?

She could still feel it—the press of his lips, the way he had devoured her, how the tension between them had finally snapped and sent them crashing into something inevitable. And then—

Coldness. Distance.

That mask of his had slammed back into place, like it had never dropped at all. Like she had imagined the way his hands had trembled against her skin, the way his body had pressed closer, desperate, needing.

She bit down hard on her lip, forcing the ache away.

This wasn’t about feelings. This wasn’t about them.

This was a transaction. A means to an end.

And still—

Still, it infuriated her.

Y/N reached the chamber door and shoved it open with more force than necessary. The wooden door smacked against the wall before she kicked it shut behind her, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths.

Her room was dark, save for the faint glow of embers in the fireplace. Silent.

Yet her mind was screaming.

She turned, caught sight of the delicate glass decanter on the table, and before she could think better of it—

She threw it.

The shatter echoed like a thunderclap, shards flying, a pool of amber liquid spilling across the floorboards.

And for a moment, all she could do was stare.

At the mess she had made. At her own reflection in the broken glass.

Her breathing slowed. Her pulse steadied.

And that was when it truly hit her.

What the hell am I doing?

She had made a grave mistake. Not just tonight. Not just the kiss.

The whole damn thing.

Agreeing to this charade. Playing his game. Thinking, even for a second, that she could walk away from this unscathed.

Fool.

He had used her. And she had let him.

And gods help her, she had liked it. Had melted into it, had craved it like something vital.

But never again.

The next time Eris tried to toy with her, to manipulate her, to pull her into his tangled web—

She would remind herself of this moment.

Of the cold finality in his voice.

Of the way he had pushed her away like she was nothing.

Of the disgust curling in her gut—not for him, but for herself.

This was war.

And she would not lose.

When morning came, the first thing she became aware of was the silence. No sounds of movement, no rustling of sheets, no shifting of weight beside her. Just stillness.

For a brief, blissful moment, she didn’t remember. Didn’t remember the kiss. Didn’t remember the way his hands had burned against her skin, the way she had melted into him, drowned in him. Didn’t remember the sharp, cruel withdrawal, the ice in his voice when he told her this never happened.

But then it came rushing back, slamming into her with the force of a tidal wave.

Her eyes snapped open, staring blankly at the canopy above. The events of last night played over and over in her mind like a cruel joke. How easily she had fallen, how stupid she had been. She had let him pull her under, let herself believe—for just a fraction of a second—that there had been something there. That it had been real.

And then he had torn it away.

The anger from last night still simmered beneath her skin, though it felt different now. Less like fire, more like something heavy and cold settling in her bones. She turned onto her side, exhaling sharply as she tried to shake the thoughts away.

And that was when she noticed it.

His side of the bed.

Untouched.

Her brows furrowed as she sat up, throwing the blankets off. The sheets were still perfectly in place, not a wrinkle or crease in sight. The pillows remained undisturbed. When she pressed her fingers against the fabric, it was cold.

He never came back.

Her jaw clenched as she stared at the empty space, at the undeniable proof of his absence. Maybe he had left early? Maybe he had only just gotten up before her? But no—there was no sign that he had ever even been there after last night.

He had chosen not to return.

She shouldn’t care. She didn’t care.

And yet, something dark and sharp twisted in her stomach.

Was he avoiding her? Embarrassed, maybe? Disgusted?

The thought made her fists curl around the sheets. Was that it? Was he so ashamed of what had happened that he couldn’t even bring himself to look at her? That he had rather spent the night—where? In his study? Another room entirely? Maybe even with one of his hundreds of mistresses? Does he even have a mistress? Of course he does, he is a male-

Why do you care, Y/N?

Right, I shouldn’t. I don’t.

A bitter laugh escaped her. How predictable. How typical. She had been a fool to think for even a second that he was anything more than what he had always shown her.

She should be grateful, really. This was exactly what she needed. A brutal, undeniable reminder of what this was. A game. A contract. A carefully calculated arrangement.

And she would not make the mistake of forgetting that again.

With a deep breath, she threw off the covers and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, forcing the last remnants of weakness from her body.

If Eris wanted to pretend nothing had happened, then fine. She would play the part just as well as he did.

But as she stood, as she steeled herself for the day ahead, one single, infuriating question still lingered in the back of her mind—

Where the hell had he gone?

The soft click of the door opening startled Y/N, her mind sluggish from the night’s whirlwind of thoughts.

Samira stepped inside quietly, as always. There was no visible trace of anything unusual on her face, her features carefully controlled, but Y/N could tell something was off. The kind of subtle tension that only Samira could hide under a perfectly polite demeanor.

“You’re awake,” Samira noted with a light smile, though the question in her voice was clear. She crossed the room to the wardrobe without waiting for a response, her movements smooth and efficient. “How are you feeling?”

Y/N blinked, still processing the remnants of last night’s strange and unsettling emotions. She sat up slowly, letting the covers fall off her legs. “Fine,” she muttered, the word feeling foreign on her tongue. She wasn’t fine—not by a long shot—but she wasn’t about to admit that to Samira.

Samira wasted no time, immediately walking over to the bed, the task of dressing Y/N clearly at the forefront of her mind. As she gently pulled out a silk dress, she glanced back at Y/N with a light frown. “You disappeared last night. What happened?” she asked casually, as if it were a normal question to ask after a ball. But Y/N could tell that Samira was keeping her tone soft, as though trying not to pry too much, though the concern in her eyes was evident.

“I just… needed a moment,” Y/N said quickly, her voice coming out too sharp for her liking. She looked away, not meeting Samira’s gaze. She couldn’t tell her what happened last night—not yet. “What about Eris?” Y/N continued, hoping to change the subject. “Did he go back into the ball?”

Samira’s expression shifted slightly, as if she was trying to gather her thoughts. “Yes, but he came back in different clothes,” Samira said, her tone almost cautious. “He said you weren’t feeling well, that’s why you left early.”

“What else?” she asked, trying to keep her tone casual, though her curiosity was getting the best of her. “Was everyone upset? Did they notice me missing?”

Samira shifted uncomfortably as she fastened the silk buttons down Y/N’s back, but her voice remained steady. “No. They were busy with the festivities. Nothing out of the ordinary, really. Except… well, you know, your absence.”

“Good,” Y/N muttered. She had no desire to deal with the guests or any of their judgment. But as she glanced at Samira, something nagged at her. “And the high lords? Did they say anything? About me, I mean.”

Samira froze slightly, her hands pausing in mid-air as she adjusted the dress. Y/N caught the subtle shift in her posture, but Samira quickly recovered. “No,” she said, the word coming out too quickly, though it was followed by an easy smile. “They were just… busy. I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

“Well, forget about me for a second,” Y/N said with an exaggerated sigh. She turned her gaze to Samira, trying to deflect. “How was your night? Did you have fun at least?”

Samira’s hands paused, just for a beat, and Y/N noticed a subtle tremble in her fingers as she tightened the dress’s bodice. It was barely noticeable, but Y/N’s sharp eyes caught it.

“Samira?” she asked quietly, her voice a little softer than intended. “Are you alright?”

Samira straightened up and offered a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yes, of course,” she replied quickly, her voice a little too smooth. “It was fine. Nothing to worry about.”

But Y/N was already suspicious. That tremble. Something was off. Samira had never shown any weakness before, but now… Y/N didn’t press. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Samira could be a fortress, after all.

As Samira finished dressing Y/N, she began combing through her hair, her fingers working quickly, but still with a certain gentleness. Y/N’s mind continued to race, but she couldn’t hold back the question that had been plaguing her. “Eris didn’t come into our bedroom last night,” she said, her voice cool and neutral. “Did he?”

Samira’s hands faltered for the briefest moment, and a flicker of something unreadable passed across her face. But she was quick to recover. “Well, I don’t know about that but if you’re asking me, then I believe not.” she said, her voice steady.

“Why?” Y/N asked, her brow furrowing as her mind ticked over the possibilities. But Samira didn’t seem inclined to answer more.

“Maybe he was busy,” Samira replied smoothly, brushing aside Y/N’s concerns. “Now, let’s get you out there. The day is waiting.”

With a final tug on Y/N’s dress, Samira finished styling her hair and moved toward the door. As they both made their way out, Y/N’s eyes caught something on the floor—her wet ball gown from the previous night. It lay in a crumpled heap by the doorway, a stark reminder of everything she’d tried to forget.

Samira didn’t miss it. “What’s this?” she asked, her tone curious.

Y/N’s heart raced as she froze, unsure how to explain. “Uh,” she stammered, “I… I spilled some wine. Got wet, I guess.”

Samira raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further, simply nodding and turning toward the hallway. But the look in her eyes said it all. She didn’t buy it. And neither did Y/N.

But Y/N didn’t have time to dwell on that. She was already pushing past Samira, moving down the hall, her thoughts a whirlwind.

The hallway was quieter than usual, sunlight filtering in through the arched windows, casting long streaks of gold against the polished floors. Y/N walked with practiced ease, keeping her steps light despite the lingering heaviness in her chest.

Samira followed beside her, ever the picture of grace, though Y/N could feel the subtle tension in her. Whether it was from their conversation earlier or something else entirely, she wasn’t sure.

“You’re walking suspiciously fast,” Samira noted, her tone dry. “Avoiding someone?”

“No,” Y/N lied, though the thought of running into Eris sent a flicker of unease through her. She wasn’t ready to face him yet.

Samira made a hum of disbelief, adjusting the silver bracelet on her wrist. “You do realize that if you rush to breakfast, you’ll only end up having to actually interact with people instead of sneaking in late and avoiding them?”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at her. “I’m not sneaking anywhere.”

“No, of course not,” Samira said with mock solemnity. “You just happen to be walking like someone who committed a crime and is trying to act normal.”

“I did not commit a crime.”

“Then why do you look like you got away with something?”

Y/N sighed. “Samira.”

“Yes, dearest?”

“Shut up.”

Samira chuckled but said nothing more, though Y/N could feel her amused gaze flickering toward her every now and then. They turned the corner, the distant hum of conversation growing louder as they neared the dining hall.

Despite the easy banter, Y/N’s mind kept slipping back to last night. To the fountain, to the kiss, to the way Eris had looked at her—like he was trying to unravel something he didn’t quite understand. And then his disappearance. The change of clothes. Something wasn’t adding up, and she hated not knowing what.

“Alright, be honest,” Samira said, cutting into her thoughts. “How bad was the damage?”

Y/N blinked, looking over at her. “What?”

“You disappeared last night, and now you’re acting cagey. That usually means something either disastrous or incredibly entertaining happened.” She paused, then added, “Or both.”

Y/N hesitated. She could lie. She could brush it off. But Samira was too perceptive, and frankly, Y/N didn’t have the energy for an elaborate cover story.

“…It was a mess,” she admitted.

Samira lit up. “A real mess or just a mildly inconvenient one?”

Y/N sighed. “A real one.”

Samira grinned. “Good. Those are the best kinds.”

“You are a terrible person.”

“I never claimed otherwise.”

Y/N shook her head, but a small smile played at her lips despite herself. They were nearing the entrance to the private dining room now, the scent of fresh bread and roasted meat filling the air.

Y/N slowed her steps, scanning the room quickly. Eris wasn’t there—thank the gods—but the servants were. She caught a few curious glances in her direction, whispers already forming before she even sat down.

Samira leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. “And here comes the morning gossip. Ready?”

“No.”

“Too bad.”

With that, they stepped inside.

Trays of fresh fruit, warm bread, and spiced meats covered the polished wood—plenty of food, yet one thing was unmistakably missing.

Eris’ place.

His usual seat at the end of the table was bare. No plates, no goblet, not even a single piece of fruit placed before it.

He wasn’t coming.

Y/N stopped mid-step, her stomach twisting. Was he avoiding her? Did he leave early? Or—worse—had he never even planned to see her at all?

Beside her, Samira took in the nearly empty room and exhaled, already turning on her heel.

“No.”

Samira stopped. Blinked. Turned back. “What?”

Y/N didn’t answer immediately. She inhaled through her nose, ignoring the sting of something she refused to name, and looked toward one of the waiting servants. “Bring another setting,” she instructed, pointing to the empty chair beside her. “Plates, silver, everything.”

The servant hesitated. “My princess, but Prince Eris—”

“It’s not for my husband.” Y/N cut in smoothly, expression unreadable. “It’s for Lady Samira.”

The room stilled for a heartbeat.

Samira’s hand, which had been resting lightly on Y/N’s shoulder, froze. “No—Highness, that’s not necessary.”

Y/N turned to her with a look that left no room for argument. Whatever Samira saw in her face—whatever emotion Y/N wasn’t voicing—made her exhale sharply, rubbing a hand down her face before muttering, “You’re impossible.”

Yet she sat down.

The servants moved efficiently, setting the extra place with no further protest. Samira, for all her bravado, wasn’t fooling anyone. The faint heat of her cheek was visible even through her cool, composed mask.

Y/N knew exactly what that meant.

She wouldn’t be able to avoid the interrogation much longer.

As soon as the servants were gone, Samira was going to wring every last detail out of her.

Once their plates were filled and the drinks were served, Y/N said one last prayer to the cauldron to save her from Samira’s death stare before she ordered all the servants to leave.

The door had barely clicked shut when Samira whirled around, eyes sharp and glinting with suspicion.

“All right. Enough with the games.” She leaned forward, hands braced against the table. “I know something happened last night. You disappeared. He disappeared. And don’t you dare lie to me, Y/N, because I will get the truth out of you one way or another.”

Y/N sighed, rubbing her temples. “Do I even have a choice in this interrogation?”

“No,” Samira said flatly. “None. Start talking.”

Y/N exhaled, slumping slightly in her chair. She knew there was no avoiding this. Samira already knew about the plan, about the games she and Eris were playing with the court. There was no point in making excuses. So, she just said it.

“We kissed. And before you ask, no. It was not a fake kiss done for show, it was a real one. In private. Just us two.”

Silence.

Samira blinked. Once. Twice. Then she sucked in a sharp breath, her entire body going still. “You what?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “You heard me.”

“I—you—he—” Samira looked like her brain had short-circuited. Then, all at once, she let out a strangled sound, half gasp, half laugh, and grabbed Y/N’s wrist. “No. No. No way. I refuse to believe it. You’re lying to me.”

“I’m not,” Y/N muttered, already regretting this conversation.

“You—you kissed Eris Vanserra?”

Y/N groaned. “I just said that, didn’t I?”

Samira gaped at her, eyes wide with the kind of delight that was going to be so insufferable. “Details. Now. All of them.”

Y/N rubbed a hand down her face. “Fine. I felt bad, so I left the ball.”

Samira frowned, concern flickering in her gaze. “Felt bad? Bad how?”

Y/N waved a hand dismissively. “Just… suffocated. Too many people. Too much noise.” She couldn’t exactly say, Oh, you know, I saw my half-brother, Azriel, who doesn’t even know I exist, and it sent me into a spiral of emotions I wasn’t prepared for. “So I left and went to the maze. I found the fountain and just… sat there for a while. And then he found me.”

Samira’s brows shot up. “Oh? And what happened then?”

“We fought. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Samira echoed, smirking. “Then what?”

“Then… he got into the fountain.”

Samira’s jaw dropped. “He—what?”

Y/N crossed her arms. “You heard me. Fully clothed. Just walked in.”

Samira cackled. “Why?”

“I have no idea. But then he pulled me in.”

“What?”

“And then we… played around a bit.”

Samira stared. “You played? With Eris?”

“I shoved him under the water.”

“Still, Y/N. That’s basically foreplay with a male like him.”

Y/N groaned, pressing her fingers to her temples. “Samira.”

“Fine, fine. Continue.”

Y/N shifted in her seat, suddenly feeling a bit uncomfortable. “It just… happened. One second we were fighting, and then suddenly… we kissed.”

Samira was practically vibrating in her chair. “Who started it?”

“Uh.” Y/N swallowed. “He did.”

“No way.”

“Yes way.”

Samira looked half ready to faint. “And? And?!”

“And the second someone called his name, he just—pushed me away. Like I was a mistake. He turned completely cold and just left.”

Samira’s excitement dimmed slightly. “Oh.”

Y/N leaned back, staring at the empty seat where Eris should’ve been. “And now he’s avoiding me. He wasn’t in bed when I woke up, and now he didn’t even show up for breakfast. I mean, it’s not like we normally talk much, but still. He usually exists in the same space as me at least once in the morning.”

Samira hummed, tilting her head. Then she narrowed her eyes. “Do you care?”

Y/N snapped her gaze to her. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“No.” She scoffed. “Absolutely not. Are you kidding? Why would I care?”

Samira propped her chin on her hand. “Mmm. You sound defensive.”

“I’m not.”

“You sound like you’re in denial.”

“I am in denial because there is nothing to not be in denial about,” Y/N snapped. “I do not care.”

Samira just raised an eyebrow.

“It was a mistake,” Y/N continued. “A slip-up. It will never happen again.”

Samira smirked. “Uh-huh.”

“It won’t.”

“Of course, of course. Just a mistake. A little moment of weakness.”

“Exactly.”

“A little fountain rendezvous with the husband you claim to hate.”

Y/N scowled. “Samira.”

Samira just grinned, reaching for a piece of fruit. “I’m just saying, Y/N, if this happens again—”

“It won’t.”

“—you should at least try to win whatever game he’s playing.”

Y/N exhaled heavily. “I’m not playing a game.”

Samira hummed, unconvinced. “Mm-hmm. Sure.” She popped a grape into her mouth. “So. When’s the next kiss happening?”

Y/N groaned and dropped her head onto the table.

This was going to be insufferable.

The rest of the morning passed with Samira interrogating her mercilessly, asking her to repeat the events of the night over and over again, as if hearing it one more time would somehow make it more believable.

“You’re lying,” Samira said for the third time.

“Why would I lie about something like this?” Y/N shot back, exasperated.

“Because it makes no sense!” Samira nearly shouted. “You—him—the fountain—playful splashing?! Are you sure it was Eris you were with and not some long-lost identical twin who knows how to have fun?”

Y/N groaned, dropping her head onto the table. “Yes, Samira, I’m sure it was him. I don’t think I could hallucinate that well.”

Samira shook her head in pure disbelief. “I still don’t buy it. Maybe he was possessed. Maybe some old spirit of mirth and joy took over his body.”

Y/N kicked her under the table, making Samira yelp. “Focus, you menace. The real issue is that he’s been avoiding me ever since.”

Samira smirked. “Are you upset about that, my lady?”

Y/N scoffed. “Absolutely not.”

“Mm-hmm,” Samira hummed, dragging out the sound, her grin widening.

“Shut up.”

The two of them went back and forth like this, Samira throwing out theories about why Eris had kissed her only to push her away, some of them ridiculous—“maybe he thought you were drowning”—and others, though she hated to admit it, a little too insightful. “Or maybe he didn’t expect to like it.”

Y/N had not responded to that one.

By the time Samira finally let up, the afternoon was creeping in, and Y/N found herself retreating to the library, needing some space to breathe. She needed quiet, needed books, needed something to drown out her thoughts and the lingering heat on her skin when she remembered the way Eris’s hands had felt on her.

The library was nearly empty, save for a few servants and bookkeepers organizing the towering shelves. She picked a secluded corner, running her fingers along the spines of the books, letting the cool leather calm her.

She was so lost in thought that she barely noticed the soft sound of the door opening and closing in the distance. She barely registered the presence of someone moving closer, not bothering to look up as she assumed it was one of the keepers shifting past.

But then the presence lingered, and a voice—warm, elegant, and unmistakably regal—broke the quiet.

“Deep in thought, I see.”

Y/N stiffened, her fingers pausing over a book as she lifted her head.

Standing beside her, watching her with sharp, knowing eyes, was the High Lady of the Autumn Court.

Y/N swallowed before quickly stepping back and bowing. “High Lady.”

The female smiled, a small, graceful thing. “Sit, child, please.”

Y/N hesitated only for a breath before sinking back into her chair, keeping her posture straight despite the sudden weight of the High Lady’s presence. There was something about the way the female held herself—an effortless sort of grace that reminded Y/N of queens from old stories, the kind who ruled from the shadows while kings thought they held the power.

For a moment, the High Lady merely studied her, as if committing her to memory. Then, with a quiet, knowing smile, she said, “I imagine it must be difficult, being so far from your family.”

Y/N kept her expression carefully neutral. She had been playing this role long enough that the lie came easily. “The Montesere court has always been home,” she answered smoothly. “But it’s been… an interesting experience, being here.”

The High Lady hummed. “I have visited Montesere before. It is a court of fine culture, rich history.” She tilted her head slightly. “Though I must admit, I would not have expected one of its princesses to be so drawn to the forests of the Autumn Court.”

Y/N let out a small laugh, as if unbothered by the implication. “Perhaps it’s the change of scenery,” she replied lightly. “Montesere is all golden palaces and sprawling cities. There is something about the wildness of this land that calls to me.”

The High Lady’s lips quirked at that. “You are not the first to say such things. But the wildness of Autumn does not come without its dangers.”

Y/N met her gaze evenly. “I’ve noticed.”

The High Lady exhaled a quiet chuckle, though something sharper flickered in her eyes. “Yes, I imagine you have.” She paused, as if choosing her next words carefully. “And how do you find our people? Have they been kind?”

Y/N knew a test when she saw one.

“The court has been… welcoming,” she said carefully. “In their own way.”

The High Lady gave a knowing nod. “Yes. Autumn’s warmth does not always show itself in the most obvious ways. It takes time to understand it.”

Y/N inclined her head. “And yet, I suspect you understood it long before you ever became its High Lady.”

The woman across from her let out a soft, almost wistful sigh. “Perhaps. Though understanding does not always mean acceptance.”

There was something in her tone—something deep and heavy beneath the surface. Y/N didn’t pry, but she filed it away.

The High Lady studied her once more before continuing. “And tell me, child—how do you find my son?”

Y/N stiffened, though only for a fraction of a second. She masked it well, but not well enough, it seemed.

The High Lady’s gaze flickered with quiet amusement. “That reaction tells me enough.”

Y/N exhaled, settling back in her chair. “I find him… difficult to understand.” It wasn’t a lie.

A small smile played on the High Lady’s lips. “Yes, he is that, isn’t he?”

Y/N hesitated before adding, “But he isn’t quite what I expected.”

That caught the female’s attention. “And what did you expect?”

Y/N thought back to every whispered rumor she’d heard about Eris Vanserra before stepping foot in this court. A monster, some had said. A prince as cruel as his father. And for a time, she had believed it. But then came the moments that contradicted those whispers. The flashes of something else beneath the surface.

“I expected him to be colder,” she admitted, choosing her words carefully.

The older female nodded, as if she had heard that answer before. “That is what most think, isn’t it? That he is fire without warmth.”

Y/N didn’t respond, unsure of what to say.

The High Lady leaned back in her seat, folding her hands in her lap. “My son is not an easy man. He does not trust easily, nor does he give freely. But that is not because he is incapable of such things.”

Y/N watched her closely. “Then why?”

The High Lady held her gaze. “Because the cost of trusting the wrong person in this court is far too high.”

There was something in her voice that sent a chill down Y/N’s spine.

“I do not say this as a warning against Eris,” she continued, her tone measured. “But as a warning against those who would wish to see him—and anyone close to him—fall.”

Y/N’s fingers curled slightly against the armrest. She understood the meaning behind those words well enough.

The High Lady regarded her in silence before offering a small, almost gentle smile. “Be careful, child. The fire in this court is not only in the hearths.”

Y/N swallowed. “I understand.”

The High Lady nodded once, then rose gracefully to her feet.

She turned to leave, but just as she reached the door, she glanced back over her shoulder.

“Whatever you think you know about my son,” she murmured, “know that there is always more beneath the surface.”

And with that, she disappeared into the halls, leaving Y/N alone in the library, heart pounding and thoughts racing.

Hours had passed.

Still, there was no sign of Eris.

The day had dragged on in an exhausting blur of interrogation and expectations. The high lady had made her feel more stressed than relaxed with her words in the library. And when that interrogation had finally come to an end, she’d been pulled into yet another long meal with the courtiers—hollow pleasantries, veiled threats disguised as conversation, and an ever-present weight pressing down on her.

But no Eris. Not a word, not a message, not even a passing shadow in the halls.

Now, alone in their chambers, Y/N paced in slow, restless circles, her mind twisting itself into endless knots.

Where the hell was he?

It wasn’t that she cared—obviously she didn’t care—it was the principle of it. He had dragged her into this world, into his world, and now he had the audacity to disappear into thin air? Did he expect her to sit here like some obedient little wife, waiting for him to grace her with his presence?

Her jaw tightened as her steps grew sharper against the floor. This palace was suffocating, its walls feeling more and more like a gilded cage. She had come here, agreed to this whole ridiculous arrangement, and yet—not a single damn person had shown her what lay beyond these castle walls.

Not even her so-called husband.

Fine. If he could vanish, then so could she.

Y/N turned sharply toward her wardrobe, yanking the doors open with more force than necessary. Her fingers worked quickly, searching for something less stifling than the finely embroidered gown she had been forced to wear all day. Something she could move in. Her pulse thrummed with growing determination as she stripped down and pulled on a dark tunic, fastening a belt around her waist before slipping into boots that wouldn’t slow her down.

Then, she reached for her cloak.

The fabric was soft beneath her fingers as she swung it over her shoulders, pulling the hood up to conceal her face. In the mirror’s reflection, she barely recognized herself—not the princess of Montesere, not the false bride of Eris Vanserra, but something else entirely. Something untethered.

A sharp exhale left her lips.

If they would not show her the world of Autumn, she would take it for herself.

With that final thought, Y/N turned on her heel and slipped out the door, vanishing into the night.

Slipping past the palace guards had been laughably easy.

Not that she was surprised.

Montesere had trained her well.

Here, no one looked twice at a hooded figure moving swiftly through the streets. No one questioned the way she maneuvered, silent and swift, like a ghost slipping between realms. It was almost laughable how little security there had been to stop her. Not that anyone would suspect the crown prince’s new wife of sneaking off into the city’s underbelly.

It was no surprise, really, considering who she had been in Montesere.

Dressed in dark colors, with her hood drawn low over her face, she had moved like a whisper through the corridors, slipping through narrow passageways and lesser-used exits until she was past the towering walls of the palace, beyond its suffocating grip. And now—

Now, she was in the heart of the Autumn Court.

The air smelled different here, thick with spice and burning wood, the crisp scent of fallen leaves mixing with the smoke curling from dozens of chimneys. The streets were alive despite the late hour, the flickering light of lanterns casting long shadows over the cobblestone roads. It was different from Montesere—not better, not worse, just… different.

Montesere had been all sun-warmed stone and open-air plazas, its colors bright, its people louder. But Autumn was darker, the buildings taller, their facades carved with intricate designs of curling flames and twisting branches. Here, the fae moved in sharp, elegant strides, their amber-colored eyes flickering with suspicion or amusement, as if always in on some unspoken joke.

She pulled her cloak tighter around herself, weaving through the crowds with ease.

The night markets sprawled before her, a riot of movement and sound. Stalls lined the streets, offering goods ranging from deep crimson silks to daggers with handles carved from emberstone. The scent of roasted chestnuts filled the air, mingling with the sharper aroma of spiced cider. Vendors called out in rough, lilting voices, their words rolling like embers across their tongues.

In the center of it all, a small performance was unfolding.

A group of musicians played with feverish intensity, their stringed instruments creating a wild, untamed melody that matched the beat of the dancers’ feet. The performers moved with an effortless sort of grace, their bodies twisting in fluid, deliberate motion, cloaks billowing like flickering flames.

Something about it stirred something deep in her chest.

Not quite homesickness. Not quite longing. But… something.

She had seen something like this before, in Montesere. Not exactly the same, but close enough that a distant memory whispered at the edges of her mind. The music, the way the crowd leaned in, the way laughter carried through the air.

It was strange.

For the first time since arriving in Autumn, she didn’t feel like a stranger.

As she weaved between merchants and onlookers, something unexpected caught her eye.

A small, dimly lit stall sat tucked away between two towering stone buildings, nearly hidden in the shadows. It was nothing remarkable—no elaborate banners, no enthusiastic vendor calling out to passing customers. Just a simple wooden table draped in black velvet, cluttered with trinkets and charms that gleamed under the low candlelight.

Y/N might have walked past it entirely if not for one thing.

Among the clutter of objects, nestled between rusted rings and strange talismans, sat a dagger.

Not just any dagger.

Her dagger.

Her breath stilled.

It wasn’t possible. She had lost that blade months ago, buried it in the frozen ground long before crossing into the Autumn Court, leaving behind that last piece of herself. Yet there it was, the silver handle worn but unmistakable, the faint etching of Monteserian runes catching the light.

Slowly, she reached out.

A withered hand shot out, closing around her wrist before she could touch it.

Y/N jerked her head up, meeting the gaze of an ancient-looking woman. She had the kind of ageless face that made it impossible to determine whether she was fifty or five hundred, her eyes clouded with something almost unnatural.

“She’s been waiting for you,” the woman murmured.

A chill licked down Y/N’s spine.

She pulled her wrist free, but the woman didn’t try to stop her again. Instead, she inclined her head toward a narrow alley behind the stall, where a darkened doorway barely peeked through the mist curling off the ground.

No signs marked its entrance. No banners or symbols.

And yet, Y/N knew.

This was where she was meant to go.

She shouldn’t have gone. Should have turned back, walked away, left whatever this was behind.

And yet—

Her feet carried her forward.

The doorway led to a set of stone steps descending into darkness, the only illumination a dim, flickering candle at the bottom. The air grew thick, heavy with incense and something deeper, something old.

She pushed through the heavy curtain hanging at the base of the stairs and stepped inside.

The tent—or cabin, or whatever this strange place was—was smaller than she expected, its walls draped in deep crimson fabric, the air thick with the scent of sage and something metallic. In the center sat a round wooden table, its surface covered in intricate carvings, and behind it, cloaked in shadow, the fortune teller.

Not the woman from the stall.

Someone else.

This one was younger—at least in appearance—her dark hair falling in thick, curling waves around her shoulders. She wore rings on every finger, silver and gold glinting in the candlelight as she shuffled a deck of cards with long, practiced motions.

“Sit.”

Y/N hesitated.

“You already walked in, girl. Sit.”

The chair creaked slightly as Y/N lowered herself into it, her every muscle coiled tight.

The woman studied her, those sharp, knowing eyes lingering on the shadows beneath Y/N’s hood.

“You’re hiding more than your face,” she mused, shuffling the cards lazily.

Y/N said nothing.

“Do you believe in fate?”

A trap of a question.

“I believe in choices,” Y/N said coolly.

The woman only smiled. “Ah, but sometimes, choices are merely illusions. You’ll see soon enough.”

The cards stopped moving.

With slow, deliberate care, the fortune teller spread the deck across the table. The backs were adorned with swirling patterns of gold and black, shifting in the candlelight as if alive.

“Pick one.”

Y/N hesitated.

A trick. A game. A manipulation.

And yet—her fingers moved before she could think, plucking a single card from the center.

The fortune teller flipped it over.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then—

“The Unmaker.”

Y/N frowned. The illustration was stark, almost violent—a figure wreathed in shadow standing over a crumbling kingdom, their hands outstretched as cities collapsed into ruin at their feet.

“You will bring to ruin what others have built,” the woman murmured, eyes gleaming. “Tear down the pillars of power, unravel the world as they know it.”

A slow, sick feeling curled in Y/N’s gut.

“Who?” she demanded. “Who will I bring to ruin?”

The woman only chuckled, gathering the rest of the cards into her hands. “You ask the wrong question, girl.”

Y/N’s nails dug into the wooden table. “Then tell me the right one.”

The fortune teller leaned forward, her breath warm against Y/N’s face as she whispered:

“Will you be the one to build something new?”

A shiver ran down Y/N’s spine.

She didn’t have an answer.

Didn’t even know what she was supposed to say.

But she didn’t have time to think.

Because just as she moved to stand, to leave, to shake off this nonsense—

The fortune teller’s hand snapped out, gripping her wrist like a vise.

“You don’t get to walk away from fate.”

The walls seemed to shift, the air growing thick, suffocating.

Y/N’s heart pounded as shadows curled around the edges of the room, as the candlelight flickered—no, dimmed—as if something unseen was closing in.

Something ancient.

Something waiting.

The woman’s eyes glowed like embers in the dark.

And Y/N—who had walked these streets as a predator, who had learned to fear nothing—felt, for the first time in a long, long time…

Like prey.

The moment the fortune teller’s hand clamped around her wrist, Y/N knew something was wrong. The room seemed to pulse, the shadows thickening as if they had a life of their own, crawling toward her, creeping into her lungs, suffocating her.

Her heart raced. A dark, eerie laughter bubbled from the fortune teller’s throat, her grip tightening.

“You cannot escape fate,” the woman whispered again, her voice low, reverberating like an ancient echo.

Y/N yanked her arm, pulling with all her strength, but the fortune teller didn’t budge. Instead, the shadows gathered, wrapping around her wrist, binding her as if they were alive. A strange force pressed against her chest, like the weight of the entire world bearing down on her.

Her breathing came in sharp, desperate gasps. The walls of the cabin seemed to close in, the air thick with magic, suffocating and oppressive. She needed to get free.

Without thinking, her other hand snapped forward, drawing a dagger from the sheath hidden beneath her cloak. She lunged, slashing at the fortune teller’s face, aiming for her throat.

But the woman’s lips curled into a sickening smile, her eyes glinting with amusement as the dagger slid harmlessly through her skin.

“You think a blade will stop me?”

The fortune teller’s voice slithered through the air, the words dripping with mockery. She let go of Y/N’s wrist, pushing her back with a wave of her hand.

Y/N staggered, stumbling, but her feet regained their balance. She was fast—faster than anyone would expect from someone in her position, her instincts sharp from a life of hiding, of fighting, of surviving.

Before she could make another move, the air around her shifted, swirling, a vortex of shadows and darkness that seemed to breathe with her every movement. Y/N’s eyes darted around the cabin, trying to find something—anything—she could use against this creature.

The fortune teller’s form shimmered, flickering like a dying flame.

And then, she changed.

Y/N froze, her stomach lurching, bile rising in her throat. The woman’s skin stretched and morphed, the once delicate features now distorting, twisting into something grotesque. The fortune teller’s eyes widened, glowing with unnatural intensity, her lips curling into a wicked, mocking smile as her appearance blurred like smoke, taking on something altogether more horrific.

Her face melted away, replaced with a vision Y/N would never forget.

Her face.

A grotesque, twisted version of her own face stared back at her, but the eyes were hollow, devoid of humanity, and the smile stretched too wide—unnaturally wide—as though the skin was being pulled apart. The skin was pale, almost corpse-like, her lips cracked and bleeding as if something more sinister lay beneath.

A wave of nausea hit Y/N, her stomach twisting violently as her pulse pounded in her ears. She staggered back, instinctively raising her arms to shield herself.

“No—”

The fortune teller’s voice was now a haunting echo of her own, layered with malice. “How long until you break, Y/N? How long until you realize there is no escape? You are me, and I am you. What you fear… you will become.”

Without warning, the creature lunged.

Y/N barely had time to react before a cold, clawed hand wrapped around her throat, squeezing with inhuman strength. She gasped for air, her nails digging into the hand, trying to pry it loose. Her vision blurred at the edges, the shadows closing in tighter, the suffocating pressure building.

Her heart pounded as her hand moved instinctively to her belt, grabbing another knife—this time smaller, sharper. She drove it into the creature’s side, twisting, hoping for a break.

But the thing laughed, a low, guttural sound that vibrated through her bones. “Is that all?”

With a cruel snarl, it shoved her backward, sending her crashing into the wooden wall of the cabin. The force rattled her bones, and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. Pain exploded in her chest, but she knew she had no choice. She had to keep fighting.

Y/N gritted her teeth, pushing herself to her feet. Blood dripped from the gash on her arm, but she was alive. For now.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. The room had become a blur of shadows, swirling and suffocating, as the creature—no, the fortune teller—moved toward her, a sickening grin playing across its features.

“You were always meant for this,” it hissed, each word a poisoned arrow aimed at her resolve. “You have no control. You never have.”

Y/N felt a flicker of doubt. Could it be true? Had she been playing a role for so long that she had forgotten who she really was? Her own breath stilled, caught in her throat. For a heartbeat, everything seemed to slow.

And then, with a growl, the creature lunged again, this time slashing at her with claws that gleamed in the dim candlelight.

Y/N barely had time to dodge. She twisted to the side, the claws grazing her ribs, a sharp searing pain flaring through her body. The blood soaked her tunic, dripping onto the floor in heavy, wet drops.

She wasn’t going to win this.

The thought slipped into her mind, and she shoved it away with a force of will. She couldn’t give up. Not yet.

But the creature’s laughter echoed in her ears, relentless.

Her breath came in ragged gasps, her limbs growing heavy with exhaustion. She could feel her energy slipping away, the magic around her tightening its grip, pressing in from all sides, slowly draining her will. She swung her knife again, slashing at the air in front of her, but the creature danced away with ease, its smile widening as Y/N’s movements slowed.

“Fate is inevitable.”

The words rang in her ears, and for the first time since she’d entered the cabin, Y/N felt the weight of them.

Her vision swam.

She was losing.

The world spun, the shadows creeping ever closer. Her legs felt weak, her breaths shallow. It was as if the room itself was closing in around her, the walls pressing against her with a crushing force.

And then, just when she thought she couldn’t stand any longer, the creature—the fortune teller—stopped.

It tilted its head, eyes narrowed, as though contemplating something.

“You are strong… but not strong enough,” it said, the voice cold and final.

Y/N’s knees buckled beneath her. Her grip on the knife loosened, the metal slipping from her fingers and clattering to the floor. The shadows swirled faster now, wrapping around her, suffocating her.

And in that moment, for the first time in a long time, Y/N felt the weight of defeat press down on her.

Her mind fogged, her muscles screaming in protest, and she knew—she knew—there was no escaping this.

This battle was over.

And she had lost.

Y/N’s world blurred as the shadows pressed in on her. Her breath came in shallow gasps, her entire body screaming for respite that would never come. Pain lanced through her, and yet it was nothing compared to the gnawing, suffocating weight of the creature’s presence. She could feel her energy fading, her limbs turning to lead as the darkness closed around her.

Who is this? she thought desperately. What is this thing? What does it want from me?

The words, the answers—everything blurred in her mind, slipping through her like water. She could no longer hold onto her thoughts. The suffocating feeling in her chest grew heavier. The creature’s mocking voice filled her ears again, but its words had become background noise to the dull throb in her skull.

“You were always meant for this…”

She was about to slump against the ground, the weight of defeat pulling her down, when she saw it—fire.

At first, her vision was too blurry to make sense of it, but then she realized—it wasn’t the creature.

Her eyes, weak and unfocused, barely registered the movement. But something about the flames… it was different. It was real.

Her gaze, clouded with exhaustion, flickered to the side—no… no, it’s not the creature…

Through the haze, she saw a figure. A tall, imposing figure surrounded by the flames that seemed to curl and burn with unnatural ferocity. The fire was radiating from him, wrapping around him like an extension of his very being. She blinked hard, trying to clear her vision, and saw the unmistakable flash of auburn hair—Eris.

Her heart skipped a beat, disbelief seizing her. Eris.

But she couldn’t process the sight properly, her mind too clouded with the darkness the fortune teller had placed on her. The flames danced around him like living things, as though they obeyed his every command, swirling and spinning in the air. His expression was a blend of determination and something else—something feral, something otherworldly.

The creature, still hovering above her, hissed in fury, its form flickering as it turned to face Eris. The two were suddenly locked in a brutal dance—flames clashing with shadows, light battling darkness.

Eris was relentless. With a slash of his arm, fire erupted from his fingertips, sending the creature back. It screeched, a horrible, shrieking sound that tore through her bones, but Eris didn’t stop. He moved with a grace and power that made her dizzy, his strikes swift, burning with the heat of the sun itself.

Y/N watched in a daze, her body still trembling, her limbs heavy with the exhaustion of the fight. But as Eris’s flames raged, she realized something. The creature had loosened its grip on her—the suffocating weight lifting just slightly. She could breathe again, shallowly at first, but it was enough.

She managed to push herself onto her hands and knees, barely able to lift her head. Her vision swam, her body protesting every movement, but she wasn’t done yet. She couldn’t just lie there. Not while Eris fought—fought for her.

Despite the overwhelming fatigue, despite the pain and fear coursing through her veins, Y/N found the strength to rise. Her hand shakily gripped the hilt of her dagger, still lying at her side, though she had no idea how she would even wield it properly in her state.

But she wasn’t going to back down. Not now.

Her steps were slow, uncertain, but she pushed forward, trying to stay out of the fire’s reach. She had to help him. She had to do something.

She noticed then, in the midst of the chaos, that a barrier had formed around her—a shimmering, transparent shield. She could still feel the heat of the flames, but they didn’t touch her. Eris had placed a protective wall around her, keeping her safe from the inferno raging in the room.

What is happening? she thought, her mind spinning, confused by his actions. Why was he helping her?

Her dagger, though heavy in her hand, was still in her grasp. She stumbled toward the fight, each step an effort. The creature, now struggling against the fury of Eris’s flames, was weakening, but it was still a deadly opponent.

Eris didn’t falter. His movements were sharp, calculated, as he used the fire to force the creature back. But then, with an agonizing screech, the creature lunged, and Eris barely managed to dodge. His body twisted in the air, a blur of flame and fury.

For a fleeting moment, Y/N saw him—Eris, standing in the middle of the storm, his flames dancing around him like an eternal fire, his face set in a fierce expression. His power was breathtaking, terrifying in its intensity.

The fortune teller screamed in rage, its body seizing in a final attempt to retaliate, but it was too late. With one last cry of defiance, the creature was engulfed by the flames, its form disintegrating into nothingness, consumed by the fire that seemed to be a part of Eris himself.

The air grew still. The flames began to die down, the last remnants of the creature’s presence burning away. The cabin was nothing but a charred shell now, the wood smoldering in the remnants of the heat.

Y/N collapsed to her knees, breathless, her body trembling as the reality of the battle set in. She could barely process what had just happened. Her head was spinning, her limbs weak and unsteady. But she couldn’t stay on the ground—not now.

And then, before she could even think, Eris was there. His arms were around her, lifting her effortlessly, pulling her close in a swift, controlled motion. She gasped, surprised, but the world was spinning too much for her to react.

Without a word, without hesitation, Eris moved. He carried her swiftly out of the burning cabin, his steps confident and sure.

The moment they reached the open air, Eris set her down gently. He didn’t speak. He simply turned, flicked his fingers, and the flames rose up--higher than before--once more. His eyes stayed focused on the inferno that consumed the cabin behind them.

The flames rose higher and higher, crackling and twisting as the building collapsed, consumed by the fire.

Y/N stood in the shadow of Eris, her heart still racing, her mind trying to catch up with everything that had just transpired. She was confused—so much had happened in such a short time. Why had Eris been there? Why had he saved her? Where in the cauldron's name was he the whole day to begin with?

And what did this mean for her?

The flames continued to roar higher and higher, an unrelenting force that consumed the fortune teller’s cabin in a fiery spiral, its heat pulsing in the air. The inferno seemed to burn through the very fabric of the world, its intensity mocking the quiet devastation in Y/N’s body. Her ribs throbbed, blood staining her tunic, but her pride refused to let her close her eyes. She stood there, the last threads of her strength tethered to the anger and confusion that churned within her.

Turning slowly to Eris, she felt a rush of emotion spill over her. She didn’t care about the pain anymore. She wasn’t going to go quietly. With a sudden movement, she slapped him across the face.

Eris staggered back, his usual calm shattered by the force of her strike. “What—?” he started, eyes wide in confusion.

But Y/N cut him off with a snarl, the words flowing out of her before she could stop them. “A coward,” she spat, the words sharp, like knives. “You’ve been avoiding me, disappearing, and now you show up out of nowhere. Where were you, huh? Off with one of your mistresses? Having your fun while I’m left to fend for myself?”

Her ribs felt like they were on fire, each breath a painful reminder of her body’s betrayal, but she refused to shut up. She glared at him, her voice growing louder, more furious. “How did you even know I was here? Why did you come now? Where were you the whole day? Who the hell was that creature, and what is going on, Eris?”

Eris’s face twisted into a mask of frustration, his eyes narrowing in irritation. Before he could speak, Y/N jabbed her finger toward him. “Don’t give me that bullshit. You’re always too busy to notice anything when I need you, but now you’re here, shouting at me for getting myself involved. Don’t you dare blame me!”

His voice grew louder, more forceful. “Do you even realize what you’ve done? Do you know who that was?” His words cut into her, but she refused to back down, her fury now mixing with the pain in her chest.

“I wasn’t avoiding you,” he snapped, his words low, almost a growl. “I had something to take care of, but of course, you had to mess it all up.” His tone was harsh, but there was an undercurrent of frustration, of something he was trying desperately to keep contained.

Y/N scoffed, her laughter bitter and sharp. “Oh, sure. Blame me for everything, as usual. An inconvenience strikes, and I’m the one to blame, right? Typical Eris.”

He was about to shout back, his anger palpable, but then, as if he finally noticed the subtle way she was swaying on her feet, his face went still. His eyes flicked down to her, and the expression that crossed his face made her blood run cold.

Her vision blurred at the edges, her body threatening to give way beneath her. She felt her knees buckle, but she didn’t fall. She stayed upright, barely. The dizziness was growing stronger, her energy draining with every passing second, but she refused to close her eyes. Not yet. Not until she got her answers.

“Y/N,” Eris said, his voice suddenly softer, urgent. “Do you realize what you’ve—”

But she couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore. The world tilted dangerously, and she felt her body begin to fall into the abyss, as though all the darkness of the night had swallowed her whole.

Her vision faded to black.

The last thing she heard was his voice, panicked and full of something she hadn’t expected—concern. “Y/N—”

And then, nothing.

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[prythianslibrary]

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

Heads up, I do reblog things from other fandoms from time to time. I also tag all my posts so if you're looking for something particular, click on the links below:

A C O T A R

Azriel | fluff | angst | smut | series | personal favs

Cassian | fluff | angst | smut | series | personal favs

Rhysand | fluff | angst | smut | personal favs

Eris | fluff | angst | smut | series| personal favs

Lucien | fluff | angst | smut | personal favs

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Helion | fluff | smut

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J J K

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Saturo Gojo

Toji Fushiguro

O T H E R S E R I E S

Aaron Warner

divider by @cafekitsune

[mirandasidefics]

Autumn Leaves

(Late Submission for @erisweekofficial Prompt: Bonds/Bargains 👑)

Pairing(s): Eris x Archeron Sister! Reader  

Summary: Eris never anticipated to find his Mate in a former human. 

Word Count: 3.1K

Warning(s): Mention of traumatic childbirth, mentions of Beron (he’s a trigger all on his own these days). 

Author’s Note: BASED ON THIS REQUEST. I felt that this scenario fit perfectly with the prompt of Bonds/Bargains for Eris Week. I hope that this fits well with what you had wanted anon! I know the request specifically asked for Reader to be the youngest, but I felt that it would be a bit more inclusive to leave the birth order more ambiguous for those that maybe don’t relate to being the youngest sibling. My brain wasn’t functioning enough to allow me to write an understandable dance scene, so…sorry that it's not as descriptive as I would have preferred. I also didn’t go back to review any of the events that occurred in ACOWAR or ACOSF, so if it’s not exactly canon compliant just ignore that. Also, Lucien was at the Hewn City solstice ball for this because I said so. 

Special thanks to @hardcoremarvelfan for beta reading and coming up with the title for this. Also, there will very likely be a part 2.

dividers by @/tsunami-of-tears ACOTAR Masterlist

The first time Eris saw the Made female he was immediately intrigued. She was quiet and stoic, much like the two sisters she accompanied for the High Lord’s meeting. Her eyes, the same shade as her sisters, appeared cold as she took in the room. It was clear she was observing more than she let on, gaze trained forward yet keenly aware of every single one of the High Lords and their various entourages. It was apparent to Eris that she saw more than her sisters, perhaps even more than his brother’s mate who was rumored to have been gifted the powers of a Seer by the Cauldron. He could feel the power that radiated off this fourth sister and couldn’t help but wonder what gifts she may have been granted. 

The second time he saw her was at the end of the battle with Hybern on the edge of the Spring and Summer Court border. Her eyes appeared distant as if she was separated from her body and the gore that surrounded her. But his answer regarding her gift had been answered as a circle of ice forged spears surrounded her. At least a dozen bodies were skewered while she stood stock still in the center of the circle. He had been compelled to approach her, but his brother got to her first, asking if she was okay and if she had seen his mate. After a single nod and a pointed finger towards a series of tents Lucien gently guided her away from the carnage she wrought. 

The third time he saw her was at the solstice ball in the Hewn City over a year later. Dressed in a drab black gown clearly intended to prevent her from sticking out. However, it wouldn’t have mattered if she was dressed down or in the most lavish of gowns. Eris’ eyes were instantly drawn to her as soon as she processed along with the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court. His youngest brother was by her side as an escort. As she approached the dias with her family, her eyes found his own, and Eris felt the world tilt on its axis. It took all of his mental will power to remain upright at the realization of what she was to him. Mate. 

Eris couldn’t remove his eyes from the female as Rhysand made his speech. Nor could he remove them when the music started and various Fae in attendance began to dance. He followed every one of her steps as she was escorted towards the dance floor, a beautiful smile spread wide across plush pink lips. He was vaguely aware of Rhysand's approach, his introduction to the High Lady’s sister. The only one that was dressed to be admired by the eyes of others. Nesta, he believed it was. But Eris wasn’t interested in the female that stood before him. He held up a hand, instantly silencing the High Lord, and simply pointed to the sister on the dance floor. 

“What is her name?” He asked, the light russet gaze never faltering. Eris could feel the tension in Nesta’s shoulders as she followed his gesture. Rhysand, always one to never give away his thoughts, supplied her name. Eris repeated it, the name tasting like honeyed wine in his mouth. Nesta attempted to redirect the conversation and offered Eris a dance, but the Autumn Heir ignored her. 

“Any bargains that you wish to make will be offered by her,” Eris’ voice was smooth as his eyes finally met purple. “Shall I introduce myself or will you make the introduction for me?” Rhysand turned his head towards the direction where Lucien spun her around as the two waltzed. His youngest brother’s head whipped in their direction, before he halted his dance and brought her over for a formal introduction. As expected, the female politely accepted Eris’ invitation for a dance. 

That first dance was all it took for Eris to know he didn’t want to be separated from her moving forward. Her demeanor was so different from what he had observed when he was only able to watch her from afar. He danced with only her for the remainder of the celebration and found himself completely enraptured by her. While he could tell that she wasn’t as strong a dancer as her sister, whom he caught out of the corner of his eye, it didn’t deter his conviction of only wanting to be by her side. Conversation flowed freely and easily as they danced. She was sharp witted, with a penchant for dry sarcasm. Her wry smile and her laugh ignited something deep within. 

Eris always had a drive to protect those he cared for, such as his Mother and Lucien, but the desire to keep her safe was stronger than anything he had experienced before. He couldn’t leave her in the Night Court, even if most of her time was spent in a city far safer than the one in which they danced. However, she couldn’t exactly join him in the Autumn lest he run the risk of her becoming one of Beron’s targets to keep Eris in line. For the first time in decades, Eris didn’t know what to do. 

“Is everything alright my Lord?” Her voice was filled with nothing but genuine gentle concern. His eyes refocused from their far away haze, taking in her sharp features. Features that were so indicative of the High Fae. Looking at her one would never guess that she used to be human. 

“Eris,” He corrected. “Please.” 

“Is everything alright, Eris?” Her cheeks flushed with the slightest tinge of pink. His own heart stirred at her reaction to the use of his name. Their dance had come to a halt, and he hadn’t even realized the musicians were taking a break. 

“Yes,” He cleared his throat. “Just a bit lost in thought.” She nodded her head, taking a slight step back from his hold on her waist. Eris had to refrain from the desire to pull her back towards his chest. 

“I’ve enjoyed our time together,” She took a look towards her sisters. All three were huddled against the edge of the dance floor. Nesta and Feyre’s sharp steel gazes attempted to pierce through the mask that Eris held in place. While the other, whose name he had sadly forgotten, had a glazed over look. Upon focusing, he noticed that the brown was nearly obscured by milky white. He heard the female in front of him gasp, her eyes trained on the Seer. Her head whipped back towards him, giving a slight nod.  

“I hope that we are able to count on your discretion about the Trove,” Her speech was rushed and she gathered the bottom of her skirts. “I’m certain that the High Lord will provide support to any claim you have to being the Heir.” With a quick second bow in parting she turned to rush over to her sisters. 

Before she got too far, Eris grasped her elbow and asked, “Would you come visit me? In Autumn?” She blinked at him. Almost as if she was surprised by his desire to see her again. 

“I must get to my sister,” She glanced back across the hall, at the High Lady trying to gain the attention of the Seer who was clearly lost in a vision. 

“I understand,” He released his grip and nodded solemnly. “I will write to you.” She blinked again. What he wouldn’t give to know what that beautiful mind was processing. She gave him a curt nod, before she quickly made her way across the hall. 

Eris couldn’t even last a week before sending his first letter. Again he asked if she would be interested in visiting his home court. She provided no answer or any acknowledgement of his question. Of course this didn’t deter Eris as they continued to exchange letters. With each one he would make his offer, enticing her with descriptions of celebrations and various traditions. He would tell her about his Hounds and his Mother. Yet she continued to not provide an answer to his offer. This same pattern went on for three months before Eris had enough of the tip-toeing around the subject. He was determined to get an answer, even if it was “No”. 

Eris arrived at what he assumed was Rhysand’s townhouse as the High Lord had instructed in his brief correspondence with the Autumn Heir.  He tapped the back of his knuckles on the large oak door. A few brief moments drifted by with no response. No movement could be heard from inside either. He peered his head towards the large bay window at the front, but the curtains were drawn shut. 

His heartbeat began to quicken with each passing moment as there continued to be no response. Eris was wholly unfamiliar with the city. He had no clue where to even begin looking for his mate. He was under the impression that he was at least expected by Rhysand. So why was no one here? 

Eris turned, prepared to winnow to the Hewn City in the hopes that Keir may have knowledge of where the High Lord could be, despite how unlikely that prospect was. Instead, he came face to face with an ethereal looking female. Skin and hair dark as shadows. A billowy white dress hugged her frame, yet appeared as if it was floating in a barrier of invisible water. It took him a minute to recognize her as one of Rhysand’s half wraith servants from Under the Mountain. 

“They are all at the High Lord and Lady’s home,” The female began to explain without preamble. “If you would follow me.” She turned, not bothering to ensure that the Autumn Lord followed. When the pair approached the near ostentatiously large home near the riverfront, screams could be heard from inside. If his heart hadn’t already been on the verge of an attack it surely was now. The half-wraith opened the front entrance, beckoning Eris to follow. 

No sooner as he stepped inside did his mate come surrying down the main staircase of the foyer. A pile of blood stained sheets spilling over her arms. Her eyes were rimmed in scarlet. Stepping onto the bottom landing she finally looked up, taking notice of the male. 

“Eris,” Her voice was no more than a whisper. Her lower lip wobbled, teeth sinking into it to prevent the tremble. Eris didn’t bother with formality, taking quick strides to meet her. As he reached her side, she dropped the pile of fabric and allowed her arms to encircle his waist. Her body shook with her sobs as her finger dug into his shoulders. 

“Feyre went into labor unexpectedly,” She cried into the elaborate brocade of his tunic. “The babe…his wings…” She couldn’t get her thoughts out in a coherent manner without the sobs overtaking her completely. “ They’re dying, Eris.” She wailed upon hearing her own words spoken aloud. He pulled her in tighter to his chest, his other hand gently rubbing in soothing circles along her shoulders. Eris had no words that could provide her with any sort of comfort, making him feel as if he was already failing her as her Mate. All the male could do was hold her and hope that she didn’t feel as alone in her grief if the High Lady of the Night Court somehow didn’t survive.  

Suddenly, Elain called out to her sister from the top of the staircase, “Come quick! Nesta she…” The warm brown eyes of the middle sister swam with unshed tears, a smile graced her features as well. Eris’ shoulders relaxed as the female's expression could only be an indication of good news. His mate quickly detached herself from his hold, racing back towards where the family convened. 

As soon as the two were out of sight, Eris looked around the foyer. He quickly found a small bench and sat down. He had never felt more awkward in his life. While he had developed a correspondence with this particular sister, he wasn’t exactly part of the family just yet. 

Eris sat in the hall, waiting for what felt like hours for his mate to return. Once she did, she escorted him into a large sitting room. 

“They’re going to live,” She smiled, sitting down in a chair across from him. She smoothed out her skirt, tucking in a corner that had somehow ended up with blood spatter staining the material. Eris merely hummed in acknowledgment. He didn’t know what to do with himself now that they had a moment alone like this. He had planned this elaborate greeting and proposal for her to come and visit, not giving her the room to ignore the request. However, that all went right out the proverbial window. His hands straightened the fabric of his shirt, then went to remove a non-existent strand of hair from his trousers, before finally resting on his lap. 

“You’re fidgeting,” She pointed out. Her smile grew as she suppressed a giggle. He was happy to see that her mood had lifted so quickly. It made the reason for his visit appear less strange, inappropriate even given the intensity of the events that occurred. She gently placed one of her hands over his. Her delicate fingers soothing and calming the rolling fire that he didn’t even notice had built up within himself. He allowed himself to grasp her hand in return, interlacing their digits. The sensation of fire against ice erupted throughout his being. Opposite yet still a perfect complement of powers. Eris couldn’t help but wonder what they would be able to achieve together. 

“Eris,” Her voice pulled him from his thoughts, his deep hues meeting her own cool gaze. “I’m happy to see you, but what are you doing here?” He swallowed, suddenly realizing that his actions were a bit sudden and perhaps not as well thought out as he intended. His arrival without notice to her would be unexpected. He only informed Rhysand that he needed to speak to Archeron female, but never explained why. 

“I,” He began, voice cracking. His pale features flushed and he was reminded of his younger days when his voice hovered between childhood and deeper timber of maturity. The female before him suppressed another giggle behind her unclasped hand. 

“I’m here because you consistently ignore a very specific question,” His gaze was steady, exuding what he hoped would be seen as confidence and not the uncertainty he felt. “I’ve come to ask one final time. If you say no, I will not burden you with asking ever again.” 

“Eris,” She pulled her hand away, eyes now unable to meet his own. 

“I acknowledge that Autumn is not always considered the most beautiful, what with the decay that can accompany the season in the mortal lands, so if you don’t like it-”

“Why would I not like the place where my mate lives?” Her perfect brows furrowed as she looked at him. Eris was at a loss for words. 

“When…” He couldn’t finish the sentence. However, it appeared that he didn’t need to as her response was a perfect correlation to what was on his mind.  

“Since the Winter Solstice,” She said. “When you first asked me to come visit.” It was Eris’ turn to blink in stunned silence. She had given no indication of being aware of who he was to her. Then again, he also hadn’t explicitly made their bond known. Perhaps he was wrong in thinking that his actions were obvious. 

“It’s not that I’m afraid that I won’t like it there,” She went on. “I’m actually afraid that I would not want to leave. But I simply can’t abandon my sisters.” She lowered her head, averting her gaze from the embarrassment. However, Eris understood the desire to be with her siblings. The same desire to ensure the well-being and safety of his younger brothers was one of his reasons for not abandoning the Autumn court. For enduring the cruelty of his Father for nearly 5 centuries. 

“I would never ask that you do,” He assured. “In fact, I wouldn’t want you to call the Autumn Court home just yet anyway. Not while my father still breathes.”

“I’m not afraid-”

“I am,” Eris admitted quietly. “I can’t risk anything happening to you.” He meant it, and was surprised at how easily the truth slipped from him. But it was just the two of them at this moment. He didn’t have to hide behind that mask when with her. He tucked a strand of (h/c) hair behind the perfectly pointed arch of her ear. He watched a shiver run through her as his flesh met hers. 

“There are some places where I can keep you safe,” He explained, all of his thoughts spewing forth as his mind raced to prove that he could keep her safe enough for short visits. “Places where my Father doesn’t have the loyalty of the subjects, but they are loyal to me. I have a cabin, just along the borders of Summer and Winter. Close enough for you to run across either should the need arise. I’d prefer Summer, there is a temple not far from the border where you could claim sanctuary until Rhysand or one of the brutes could get you.”

“Eris…” 

“Please,” He implored. “I do not wish to scare you away or force you to come. But I cannot stay separated from you much longer. My brother is the one with the endless amounts of patients when it truly matters.”  She laughed, the melodic and soft sound made him feel light. 

“How often can we meet?” She inquired. Her bright blue eyes lit with anticipation of when they could have their time. 

“I can secure a few days away every month,” He explained, almost more to himself than her as he considered the variety of excuses he would need to utilize. “Maybe up to a week at most. The time of month would need to vary as well. Any semblance of a pattern would tip my Father off. He’s just paranoid enough to assume that I’d be planning some type of conspiracy against him.” Of course, his Father’s fears were not without reason. Eris was indeed planning to usurp the High Lord. Someday. 

“Alright then,” She beamed. “I will come and visit. Every month so long as it is safe and as long as I am able to return to my sisters.” Eris felt the corners of his mouth lift up, and soon she mirrored the expression. His heart flipped, and he had to clear his throat to regain control of his senses. 

“Then I shall send word when everything is ready.” He stood, preparing to leave when she clasped his hand again. 

“Stay for a while Eris,” Her voice was soothing, making it feel like she wasn’t giving him a command. Even if she had, he would have gladly done anything she bid of him. He knew in that instant he would do anything for her. 

General Tag list: @loving-and-dreaming @samslulumelon

[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

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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.

[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!

[manicmanuscription]

Just Need You

PolySJM Week: Day Two

Prompt: Reveal

Pairings: Eris / Azriel / Fem OC

Summary: When Eris is badly injured not even court politic's will keep his mates away from him.

Word Count: 1118

Tags: Angst, Dying, Attempted Murder, Drama because author can’t help herself.

PolySJM Week 2025 Masterlist | Acotar Masterlist

Eris hadn’t known how agonizing dying really was. Of course he’d witness death before and certainly stood on her doorstep more than he’d like to admit. 

But now it just felt different, more… certain. He could feel his heartbeat slowing down, his vision was hazy and his limbs were weightless and heavy all at the same time. Eris swore he could feel the poison pumping into his bloodstream with each ragged and broken gasp for air, slowly leeching off his life force.

It was excruciating. 

Healers were surrounding him, touching him, people coming in and out of his vision but he barely noticed any of it. 

Then a familiar female was there, grasping his shoulders with a panicked look in her eyes. She was speaking fast but the words weren’t quite reaching him. The bond in his chest sang at the blurry sight of her and the tall male swathed in darkness that suddenly stood behind her. 

Both of them were speaking, reaching for him but he couldn’t put the pieces together in this state. Pain was the only thing that existed throughout his entire being, consuming all his senses. 

They got closer, the intoxicating scent of cedar and mist reaching his nose, along with fresh snow and violets. A harsh tug on that living thing in his chest had his vision clearing and finally he laid eyes on his beautiful mates. 

Mates. 

The word rang in his head with such a shocking clarity that the pain disappeared for only a brief moment and he smiled. Enora reached out to touch him, holding his hand to her chest while Azriel brushed a piece of hair away from his sweaty forehead, everything about their presence was a balm to his soul. 

“You’re going to be fine.” She vowed her voice cracking slightly. The usually stoic Shadowsinger had watery eyes. Those scarred hands gripping his shoulder. “You have to be.” Enora whispered. 

Azriel shut down when his emotions ran high whereas Enora panicked with the weight of them. He wished he had the strength to comfort them, wished he had the energy to tell them he was going to be fine. 

The truth was he didn’t believe it. 

He could feel himself slipping and they could too, black dots dancing in his vision. 

Hands roughly pulled his mates away and he let out a painful whine at the loss of their touch. “What the hell are Rhysand and Kallias’ lapdogs doing here?” Adler -his head guard- hissed with a barely contained fury, his hands shaking with panic at the state of his High Lord. 

Eris let out what was supposed to be a warning growl -the only male allowed to touch his mates was him- it came out as a soft whimper when more hands moved across his skin.

Cold, he was so cold. 

The Illyrian shoved Adler when he reached for Enora. Rage burst throughout his being. Voices escalated and a high pitched ringing started in his ears. More darkness swirled around the edge of his vision and too many hands were touching him, too many sensations running through his body as they tried to fight off death herself, too many magics tugging at his soul, his body, his life.

He could barely make out Rhysand’s form, more hazy annoyingly familiar figures appearing as tensions rose. Another male with batlike wings touching his mate, murmuring something to him. Autumn guards fighting with his fragile allies. More hands reaching for Enora, tugging both of them further and further away. 

“Give them room to work….” The words all jumbled and distorted, mixing with another sentence of “It’s not our place..”

Yelling and crying blurred together, Rhysand doing his best to control the situation which only enraged Eris further, after all this was his court. Why were they here again? What the hell was going on? Azriel shoved Cassian away taking another step towards him, his heart fluttering as the Spymaster did his best to reach him once again. 

His mate’s were the only clear figures in his line of vision, their distressed expressions pulling painfully on his slowly beating heart. Too many people hauling them further away. The bond unraveled with each harrowing second. It was all too much.

“Stop-” He gasped, panicking. 

He didn’t want to die, at least not without the loves of his life. 

He liked to be in control of his fate, of his choices, too many times had it been taken from him and now the Mother seemed to be laughing at the stability he had fought for. “Stop it…” His voice weakened with every syllable. Everything was falling apart in front of him, a ball of yarn disentangling before it all crashed and burned. 

More unfamiliar and misty faces crowded above him, touching his bare skin while strong magic yanking on his very being. He didn’t recognize them, didn’t understand what was happening as time slowed and sped up all at once and not at all.

He wanted his mates. 

“Stop.” Eris finally roared, the strength briefly being returned to him in the healer's dance of life and death, his soul being shredded, remade and shredded again in a vicious cycle. Venom burning through him just as fast as their magic did. 

“Stop touching my mates and Let. Them. Approach.” He wheezed out the last part, air knocking out of him in the same sentence. 

Enora and Azriel rushed to him immediately, pushing his shocked guards and the frozen Inner Circle out of their way. 

The Spymaster was the first to reach him, grabbing one of his hands and pressing a kiss to his cheek, tears slipping down his face as they both pulled on the weakened bond.

Enora was next to arrive, sitting down at the other side of him, helping him lean up further against the wall his court had hastily sat him against and pressing her forehead against his as she cried as well. 

He ignored the whisper’s, ignored the stupor radiating off his mate’s family and his own court. He didn’t give a damn about their opinions anymore, as long as his loves kept touching him, kept pulling on that wild and sacred thing that connected them. 

They backed up slightly to let the healers work but not much and Eris decided to fight harder, hoping his infected magic would somehow help him. 

He’d stay here forever as long as they kept touching him, as long as Enora kept whispering soft motivations in his ear, as long as Azriel kept pressing lingering kisses to the juncture of his throat. 

The political consequences of his little revelation would be absolute hell to deal with; he just needed to survive this first.

[danikamariewrites]

The Hunter

Neris x reader

Note: This is the fic I’ve been dyyyiinggg to post! I wrote for vampire Neris last year and they’ve been on my mind ever since.

Day 4 is Alternate Universe! It’s been months since Nesta and Eris have turned you. Still getting used to your new vampire senses has you jumping at every noise and peeking around every corner just in case of monsters, forgetting you are the monster now. You find one in the shape of a human man creeping around your home.

Warnings: vampire hunter, violence, weapons, death

The curtains swished more than usual. More than what the wind would cause. Thanks to your new enhanced hearing since turning everything has your head on a swivel. Creeping into the hall cautiously you look down each end of the hall.

A shadowy figure darts across the hall. You freeze at the sight of a man creeping around your home.

Heading the opposite way of the man you run to Eris’s study. Your heart pounding the whole way.

You don’t bother knocking on the door. Running straight into Eris you cling to him. He lets out a sound of surprise, wrapping his arms around you. “My heart, what’s wrong?”

Looking at him with freighted eyes you tell him what you saw. “Where’s Nesta?” You panic, whipping your head around the room looking for those familiar steely blue eyes.

“Look at me,” Eris cups your cheeks. “If what you saw is a hunter, Nesta is probably already following him.” You nod with tears brimming in your eyes. If Nesta and Eris die you don’t know what you’ll do. You’d be lost in life without them. Your heart would shatter and you’d never love again. “I’m going to tend to our guest. You stay here and find a place to hide just in case. When it’s safe we’ll come back for you.” Eris presses a chaste kiss to your lips he rushes from the room.

Your mind spins, feeling fuzzy and confused as you rush around the room, not knowing where to go. Finally, you settle on hiding under Eris’s massive desk. You crawl under the centuries old dark wooden monstrosity, pulling his high back in for extra protection. Not that it would stop a vampire hunter. Bringing your knees to your chest you focus on your breathing.

Everything is fine. It will all be ok. You tell yourself. It’s just one man against Nesta and Eris. It will all be ok.

Time seems to slow to crawl as you wait for your loves to get you. More horrible what ifs run through your mind. Tears spring to your eyes and you let them fall.

The heavy office door flies open, slamming against the wall. That’s not Eris. Your body locks up in fear. The hunter prowls around the room. His footsteps are loud and menacing as he tears through the study.

You close your eyes and hold your breath. Afraid that if you exhale a little too loudly the hunter will hear you. Clamping your hand around your mouth you try to stay calm. Staying put will keep you safe.

You hear the hunters' steps approach your hiding spot. As your eyes fly open you’re met with the sight of his muddy black boots and dark pants. You press your back into the desk. Praying to any god that is willing to listen to let the hunter pass. To make him move on to the next room.

They don’t listen.

The hunter rips the chair back, squatting down to your level. A scream catches in your throat. A mean scowl contorts his face making the hunter look terrifying. He growls, reaching a glove clad hand for your throat. You let out a scream and scrambled back, hitting your head against the underside of the desk.

Eris appears behind the hunter, flinging him into the wall with his unnatural strength. Fear keeps you pinned to your spot. You watch with wide eyes as Eris and the hunter fight. Throwing punches, trying to catch the other off guard.

You risk peeking over the lip of the desk. Eris was exhausting the hunter. Dodging all of his punches and frustrating the man. Until the hunter growls, flipping a stake from his belt into his hand. Brandishing it menacingly at Eris he lunges.

Another scream catches in your throat as silver flames wrap around the hunter. Squeezing him tight and lifting him from the ground. The smell of his skin slowly burning away fills the room.

Nesta steps from the shadows and relief flows through your body. Thankful that she is a natural born predator, unafraid to kill for the ones she loves.

The hunter lets out one last scream. His body going limp against the silver bonds still clinging to him. Nesta waves her hand, the flames dissipating, the hunter dropping to the floor with a heavy thud.

“Where is y/n?” Nesta asks with a slight quiver to her voice. You stand on shaking legs. The adrenaline of the situation wears off on your body as your eyes go to the hunter lying lifeless on the floor.

Nesta rushes to your side, pulling you into a tight embrace. She runs her fingers through your hair to soothe your trembling. You hug Nesta tight.

When you release her those silver blue eyes roam your body, checking to make sure there’s no injuries. “You’re ok.” Nesta sighs in relief. A weight falling from her shoulders. You hold Nesta’s face pulling her face to yours for a hard and needy kiss. For a few moments you were terrified that you would never see them again. That these were your final moments.

Nesta breaks the kiss, resting her forehead against yours. “I was—” Nesta shushes you. “I just want to hold you for now.” You nod, melting into her embrace again.

Eris’s hand gently traces down your back, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your head.

“Come,” he commands the two of you. “We are retiring for the night.”

“But—” Eris holds up a pale, freckled hand. “Come.” Eris’s demeanor is his usual stoic attitude. But those amber eyes betray him. Showing how shaken he is. Nesta nods, nudging you along to follow.

You cling to both of them. Eris holding you tight to his body. Your mind still racing with thoughts of the hunter.

[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

[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.”

[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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