#beron vanserra x daughter oc

[readychilledwine]

A Burden To Carry

Villain's Week - Day 2 - Weakness

Summary - He had given her everything, loved her through all her ages, just to have one fight tear his whole world down

Warnings - abuse, infidelity, twisted family situations, love from an abuser's mind

A/n - Happy @sjmvillainweek day 2! For weakness, I decided to do something I've gotten a lot asks about: Lyria and Beron pre him learning she is Helion's daughter and not his. I firmly believe Beron would be a sucker for a daughter in a twisted sense and in a healing sense. If you have not joined Lyria's world, she is my Vanserra OC who put her magic into healing through touch, mainly massage therapy. She is, per Vanserra sister oc Tradition, mated to Azriel. If you are into different forms of poly relationships, acts of service, and smut, peep her masterlist. Otherwise, I did set this to where it can be read alone 💕

I have a pattern this week of drabble and longer fics just due to planning so much content. This is today's drabble.

✨️Lyria’s World✨️

🗡Villain's Week Masterlist🗡Master Masterlist🗡

Beron had never known love like what he felt for his daughter as she bounced over to him. Her hair was in soft curls, her smile bright. Beron held love for so few things, but Lyria? Lyria was his light.

She was a small thing at the tender age of 6, still so curious about how the world worked, how how night became day, where the river went if it left to lands where she could not follow. He picked her up, holding her slightly above him before settling her on his lap.

“Daddy, if the leaves here are red, why are the leaves at Tamtam’s flowers?”

“Different seasons, my love.”

Lyria glared at the simplicity of his answer, “I think Tamtam's leaves are wrong.”

He could only chuckled at her standing with her in his arms, “And how do you suggest we fix them?” Beron had a running list of Lyria’s ideas and mis-speakings. From demanding her crown be more spark-y to stating she felt the solution to court disagreements was a slumber party where she'd play guard and smack high Lord's with her feathered pillow if they were being mean, he cherished that list. Cherished her.

“We take them from him,” she glared, her little voice far too innocent to realize she was implying going to war over trees being different. “Oh! Look what I can do!”

Lyria held her little hand to him, a fire coming to life on her palm.

A fire that looked far too much like a sun spark. Not like a raging hearth.

The image of her small display of magic haunted Beron as they ate that night. 4 sons. 1 daughter. 3 empty chairs.

He would be a fool to pretend the son that sat on one of those chairs was ever his. The skin tanned too easily in the sun, the hair in tighter curls and a deeper shade of red than he had ever seen. The eyes a slightly darker shade than predicted.

Lucien was never Beron's but Beron had played the part until the embarrassment could no longer be ignored. Since that fateful night, Beron had been under the impression his wife, the wife he thought he loved so much, wanted to have another child as an olive branch, an apology.

Now as he looked at that little girl, so glued to Eris's every word, he felt that same rage simmering deep within him.

“Daddy,” a little voice cut him from the thoughts he was having, “can I go play with Eris's puppies tonight?”

“Hounds,” Eris sighed, slightly annoyed. “They are hounds, sister.”

“No,” the answer made the whole table pause. Lyria had never heard no in her short life. “You were already out playing past curfew and conned me into skipping lessons today. You will go to bed early.”

Seeing her soft pout, her eyes watering, it broke his heart. It broke him as he continued looking at her, truly looking at her. Nothing physically indicated she was not his. She was the carbon copy of her mother. Same nose, same eyes, same chin.

Lyria's 16th birthday came in a flash of light and Beron kept his growing suspicious to himself as she sat at the vanity being forced to look the part he truly didn't know if she should have been given. In the past several years, he'd passed her off to Eris. Sighting her brother needing to be more involved with her as the reason. Beron loved her, he loved her more than he'd ever allow anyone to know, but he was not blind to the possibility that somehow she was not his.

“Daddy?”

“Lyria,” he tried to show no emotion in his voice as she stood, the red velvet dress hugging her torso before going to a full skirt, “stunning.” He moved to her, hand on her cheek. “Do you remember the rules?”

She nodded as she nuzzled into the rare contact from her father. A handmaiden forced her head straight, adding a simple tiara in, “No dancing with one suitor for too long. Honor each high lord with their own dance. Keep near Eris and his partner.”

“And,” he gripped her chin lightly.

“No running off with anyone. Male or female. I am to maintain my image.”

He nodded, satisfied, “Who is your first dance?”

“Eris, in place of you, to allow you to continue taking bids for my hand.”

The rules were simple as a hand went to her lower back, escorting her out the dressing room doors and into the hallway where the royal family stood waiting. Lyria was their star tonight. The red velvet dress had a straight neckline with stones leading to long sleeves. They, too, had been adorned with a rotation of diamonds in various sized.

Beron had spared no expense on this gown, not 100% thrilled it was different from traditional fashion, but her face as she had tried it on made it worth it. Eris quickly made the corset slightly tighter before looking her over and adjusting a few pieces of hair. “Aren't you just perfect,” her oldest brother murmured. “Excellent choice in gown father. Suitors will be aching to dance with her.”

His wife was the only one who seemed uncomfortable, “She is 16.” Her voice was soft in Beron's ear. “Perhaps we could wait and present her when-”

“She's of courting age,” Beron cut sharply the room falling silent like it had all those years ago when he first told Lyria no. “Her duty to is provide us with an alliance and grandchildren. She is my daughter. I see this as fit.”

Beron watched from his throne as Lyria charmed her way through every High Lord. She had glanced at him while dancing with Rhysand, a code they'd made to silently indicate when she'd found interest in a male. “Rumor has it that he likes them young,” Eris said bored. “Helion will be next, in place of his father. Prepare yourself, High Lord.” The exchange from Rhysand to Helion killed off that last shred of doubt in Beron's mind.

Where Helion touched Lyria. Lyria's skill faintly began to glow.

The same as it had when Helion's filthy hands touched Lucien.

Beron looked at his wife, what little gentleness he held gone, “Is she mine?” The question had his sons leaving the dais, suddenly very interested in several females in the room. “Is. She. Mine.”

All Lyria could hear from her room that night was screaming and fighting. Eris laid next her, whispering in her ear that none of this was her fault, that she was loved. He kept her behind him as Beron stormed into her room, trying to protect her.

The signs of what happened showed on Lyria's face, her body. Beron would not outright end her life, but there were times in the following years where he made her wish he had. Beron had hoped his love for her would die off, but by her 18th birthday, it was still there.

The affair was quiet, only suitors from Autumn, only males Beron deemed barely worthy. The light that burned so brightly in Lyria had died, diminished by her father as the last pieces of light in him died as well.

They say the best way to kill off a weakness is to stop caring about it.

And Beron, as he looked at the red haired girl going through the motions as she danced herself into exhaustion, realized he would never stop caring. No matter how much he wished he would.

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites @littlest-w01f

[prythianpages]

one shots

angst=  `♡´ fluff = ☁︎ smut= ☪︎

↠ I've Been Waiting For You ☁︎ `♡´ | After centuries of waiting, Azriel finally meets the one he's been longing for. His mate. (this is kinda inspired by Alice & Jasper from twilight.) | bonus part

↠ A Field Of Dandelions ☁︎ `♡´ | Your High Lady calls upon you. requesting a remedy that only you know how to make. It requires specific ingredients found between the courts of spring and autumn and you're in need of an escort. Unfortunately for you, she assigns her Shadowsinger to accompany you. The Shadowsinger who hates you...or so you thought.

↠ Be Safe ☁︎ | you are on your way to Day Court when Azriel stops you. After the two of you fall victim to Cassian's and Mor's teasing, Azriel realizes why he can't just let you go.

↠ Be Patient ☁︎ | After the mating bond snaps, Azriel follows you to the Day Court, spending seven agonizing days yearning to tell you about the bond.

↠ When I Kissed the Teacher ☁︎ | After crushing on Azriel for almost a year, Nesta dares you to kiss him during Valkyrie training.

↠ In My Eyes | Rhysand's Sister reader`♡´ | Azriel has lost you once and when unseen circumstances bring you back to life, he will not lose you again. Even if it means going against his family.

↠ 'Cause It Was Always You ☁︎ | After eavesdropping on multiple conversations, Azriel finally gathers the courage to confess his feelings to you, thinking he's on the verge of losing you.

↠ Goodnight ☁︎ | Azriel has a night time confession.

↠ Tonight, the Light of Love is in Your Eyes `♡´ | You find yourself in the middle of a political affair, where you seek refuge in a dance with Azriel. And in the spur of the moment, Azriel tells you he loves you for the first time.

↠ A Light That Never Goes Out `♡´ | The aftermath of Azriel kissing you in front of everyone in the Court of Nightmares. (Part two to the fic above.)

↠ Next to You `♡´ | The world is ending and Azriel does all he can to be next to you.

↠ Beautiful Stranger ☁︎ | Azriel gets injured while spying in Spring and meets someone he never thought he would. His mate.

series

↠ Fate, Up Against Your Will | Rhys’s sister OC

↠ Azriel x Green Witch | A series of imagines that is based from A Field of Dandelions.

↠ A Court of Shadows & Moonlight | Rhy’s sister oc |  Daughter of the Night Court’s High Lord. Half Illyrian. Half High Fae. Rhysand’s little sister. A Dreamer. Only few know her as Valeria and only one knows her truth. She is the moon, a lonely girl cratered by imperfections, and he is her night, the one who helps her shine bright.

↠ Give 'Em Hell | beron's daughter oc | Beron Vanserra is a man with many sinful secrets but there is one that desires to punish him. His daughter. His true firstborn and heir to the Autumn Court. *currently on hold*

[daycourtofficial]

The uncertainty of Spring

Pairing: Eris x OC | WC: 1.7k | Warnings: Eris is a bit bitchy

Summary: a son of Autumn makes a deal with the daughter of Spring in hopes for a watchful eye over Lucien

Author’s note: happy Eris week @erisweekofficial 🥳🥳 this is for the ‘bargains’ prompt of day one. Wanted to try something a bit different and use an OC for the first time.

The stars shown above Iris, the air unseasonably warm around her. She held the piece of wood in her hand as she scraped her knife against the bark, letting the shavings fall at her feet.

Iris’s eyes scanned the area every few minutes, searching the darkness for signs of life, returning to her whittling when her eyes came up empty.

“Is that not blasphemy? A child of spring hurting a precious plant?”

Iris couldn’t control the scowl she sent in the direction of the voice, the sound grating on her nerves. She searched the woods for signs of him, not seeing him anywhere in the moonlight.

“What do you want, Eris? If you linger too long surely Tamlin will catch your scent on the wind and come to dispose of you like he did with Asher.”

He waved a hand as if the thought of his brother’s death was nothing more than the wrong shade of fabric, the action the only way she could make out where he was. “Any fate my brothers find themselves beholden to is none of my concern.”

She arched a brow, her movements against the wood halting. “And does that attitude extend to baby Lucien?”

Eris looked at her, a darkness to his gaze she had never seen before. He straightened his jacket, the brown coloring much less ornate than the greens and reds she was accustomed to seeing him in, but the neutral color suited him quite well.

He truly resembled an oak tree in the middle of losing its leaves.

Iris smiled, “so this is about Lucien.”

He breathed deeply, a slow exhale from his nose. “And if it were?”

“I would consider listening.”

He stepped closer to her, and she could feel the heat radiating from his body from several feet away. His eyes raked over her, taking in her appearance. ‘The seed of Spring’ they had called her, long blonde waves trailing down to her hips, flowers entwined with small intermittent brands. A long, pale green dress reached to mid-calf, allowing brown boats slightly caked in mud to be seen.

Her green eyes glowed unnaturally in the moonlight, resembling the way morning dew clings to grass and gives it a glassy appearance.

“I can’t linger here long. I do not have time to repeat myself.”

Iris nodded, Eris’s cryptic way of speaking leaving her uneasy.

She had known Eris for a long time, running into him mostly at High Lord meetings, or whenever the families of their respective courts would visit each other. Centuries of knowing him in the peripheral and she hardly knew anything about him. No one had a read on him or knew anything about him.

The juiciest piece of information was his failed engagement to Morrigan, Night Court nobility who slept with a lesser fae during her engagement, either in a bid to end it or because she couldn’t help herself, no one knew.

Rumor was neither her father nor Beron responded well to her actions. Rumors swirled of the failed engagement’s end - Morrigan was shipped to the continent until the war when she would be useful, Eris stabbed her out of jealousy,

Most rumors held some version of truth to them, but any and all gossip around the Vanserras felt too exaggerated to be real. Iris’s favorite rumor was that the manor they resided in had a secret tunnel system connecting to the far reaches of Autumn, so Beron could pop up anywhere in the Court with no one knowing.

The rumors were either grandiose ideas (that Eris was a shapeshifter and frequently shifted to run around the land with his hounds) or unsurprising tidbits about a family of seven sons (a Vanserra sleeping around, each of them supposedly incredible lovers).

Then again, rumors only grow.

“I need a bargain.”

That she was not expecting.

“My mother needs assurance that Lucien will be taken care of here.”

Iris stalked around him, her skirts moving in the darkness, the green chiffon swishing with each step.

“And how is your grieving mother? Three sons in one day, that’s half the family.”

“You’d be wise to bite your tongue, flowers are easily crumpled, as Rhysand knows first hand.”

Iris put her hands up in mock surrender, wondering just how much Eris truly cared for his fallen brothers.

Wondered if his feelings mimicked the ones inside her chest about the demise of her own brothers.

“Pray tell, Eris, why would I tether my soul to yours?”

Surely Eris had lost his wits to visit her about this.

“I know you wish to leave Spring.”

She halted, breath catching in her throat, eyes assessing him as he continued. “I know you have been sniffing about the Autumn borders for some time. I know you spend considerable time in my court. No one in Spring able to catch your eye?”

She scoffed, the male before her unseeing of the real truth to her visits.

“I don’t think safe passage in Autumn is good enough. If I’m going to be sticking my neck out for little Lu, I need something to sweeten the deal.”

His gaze felt burning as his attention focused on her, the longest time she had spent conversing with him prior to this was filled with insults and barbed snipes. This conversation had almost an air of vulnerability to it, something she didn’t know Eris could be.

“When I am High Lord, I will ensure you will live a comfortable life in Autumn, if you wish to leave the neverending life of Spring.”

Iris looked at him, an amusing grin on her face.

“And when do you plan on being High Lord? What if the magic skips you?”

He didn’t bother answering either of her questions, they already both knew the answer to the second one: it wouldn’t. His gaze was penetrating as he looked at her, his features sharp in what little light they had.

She stretched out her fingers, looking at her nails to get away from his gaze. “I want something else.”

“I’m not in the interest of ruining other males for you. I won’t be warming your bed as part of the deal.”

Iris gritted her teeth at the smugness in his tone.

“I want a secret from you. Not now, but whenever I call on you. I want you to tell me a delicious secret that no one else knows.”

“You always were nothing more than a bored gossip.”

Her smile was lupine, “and your family has always been a most interesting topic. Seven sons all interested more in getting their dicks wet than being competent rulers. There must be an overabundance of bastards in Autumn.”

The smell of blood was in the air, a slight tang as her words hit their mark. His demeanor doesn’t falter, though.

“I will agree, if this bargain remains between the two of us.”

He stretched his arm out, long fingers adorned with rings presented to her.

She had an out.

She could say no.

But having Eris Vanserra indebted to her was worth the risk.

She slid her hand into his, taking in the freckles dotting the outside of his hand, the gold ring on his middle finger with a bright orange gemstone set in it.

“Fine, I will see that your precious Lucien is attended to. However I cannot protect him from any trouble he goes out searching for on his own.”

“And I will take over Autumn, making it a better court for you to live in, should you wish.”

Her brow rose before he added, “and a secret for you to collect, however anything I tell you is not to be spoken of to another soul.”

Their hands glowed slightly, and she could feel the magic spreading up her arms and through her body. It felt like a wave in the ocean - strong but quick, gone before she could do anything. The ground in between both of them shook just before a young tree sprouted from the ground, the two of them stepping back and away from it. Pink petals exploded from the tree, bursting over the pair, several getting caught in her hair as they fell to the ground.

Eris looked at the plant, dusting the petals from his jacket. “Flowers, for spring. How original.”

He held up a petal, watching it catch in the moonlight. The action drew her attention to his hands, deep brown gloves adorning his fingers.

She wasn’t sure she had ever seen him wear gloves before, keeping his hands bare even at the most formal of gatherings.

“Does Autumn have any traditions around bonds?”

He shot her a look of exasperation before answering. “You get a burn mark. Its size is relative to the severity of the bargain.” He continued twisting the petal between his fingers, bored of the conversation already.

At his words, she began rotating her arms, searching for any new scarring. “Should I be concerned?”

“Shouldn’t you have asked questions beforehand?”

She tucked her hair behind her ear, not wanting to admit that he had a valid point with that.

“No matter. It will ache on occasion if you go too long without thinking of it.”

The Autumn Court truly was a whole new style of warfare. Iris looked at him, uncertain of what kind of creature could survive in such conditions for so long, wondering how long looking into the darkness it took to have the darkness etch itself into your bones.

“What should I tell Tamlin about this scar? Surely he’ll see it?”

Iris looked back, a sharp pain now shooting from her right wrist. She looked down, watching as a burn mark etched itself into her skin.

Eris shrugged, gazing at the tree between the two of them before he turned, long legs carrying him into the trees. The wind blew around him, as if they too tried to get answers from him. “It is no matter to me what the beast thinks. Perhaps you could convince him the monsters of the night dared to be near his darling sister.”

She looked at the burn mark on her skin, the texture catching the light. The scar was roughly the size of a gold mark, and she wondered if this was meant to be a small bargain. As she rotated her wrist, the scar seemed to disappear in the light. Iris looked back up to where Eris had last stood to find him gone, her wrist aching in remembrance.

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-smut @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @berryzxx @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader @milswrites @the-golden-jhope @hannzoaks @secretlyhers @tothestarsandwhateverend @sarawritestories @chxosangxl

Eris taglist: @magicstrengthandcourage @panther-girl-124

[erissheiress]

I Swear It

Eris Vanserra x Reader

Warnings: 1 swear word, implications of postpartum depression (barely mentioned), Beron (barely), angst, arguing, happy ending

Summary: Eris has been on a mission for a while, and comes back to find his family struggling. (Also introduction of my child OC's)

Word Count: 1421

Taglist: @reetriestbr @pandabiiissh

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Your mother in law sat before you, cradling her youngest grandchild in her arms. The fire was dying slowly, but neither of you paid it much attention, instead letting it gradually fade by itself. Winter had arrived and made its presence known immediately, barely allowing time for the Autumn Court to transition into the colder months. Cold days like this were more suited for staying indoors by the fire with those you love, drinking mugs of hot chocolate or tea, and quietly basking in each other's presence.

You watched your baby coo softly in her grandmother’s arms, her little noises making your heart burst. In your own arms, your eldest two children nestled into your side, their fists clinging to your dress. The scene was almost perfect, besides lacking one detail. Your husband and your children’s father, Eris, had been away for weeks now, fulfilling his duties as Heir to the Autumn Court with his father.

Every night you'd go to bed alone, and wake up with two pairs of arms around you, little elbows prodding your stomach. Before, you would be awakened by gentle kisses on your skin, but now sleepy mumbling and soft cries pulled you from your slumber each morning.

You truly missed Eris, but had to get used to being without him for the time being. His absence was mostly felt through your children, when they'd seek your comfort, missing their father.

At least your youngest child, your darling girl, was unaffected, although the lack of a relationship between her and Eris worried you slightly, as he had to leave only a couple of months after her birth. She slept soundly across the room, and you pushed the worries to the back of your mind, lest they overwhelm you completely.

"Mama?" Your second child, Hugo, mumbled, rubbing his bleary eyes with his fist. 

"Yes, my love?"

"Is Daddy home yet?"

Across from you, your mother in law quietly sighed, knowing what your answer would be. She knew all too well what an absent father did to a young child.

"Not yet, baby, soon." You brushed a hand over his red curls, an inherited gift from his father.  Hugo just nodded, burrowing further into your side. In the distance, a grandfather clock chimed, and you took a deep breath.

"Time for bed, I think." 

Maeve and Hugo couldn't even argue, too worn out from their snow day, bellies full of hot chocolate, marshmallows, and gingerbread. Slowly you sat up, pulling Hugo into your arms, and holding Maeve's hand to guide her to her own bed. They kissed their grandmother and their baby sister, before allowing themselves to be put to bed by you.

"G'night, Mama."

"Night, Mama."

"Goodnight, my loves." Quietly slipping out, and back down the corridor. The Lady of the Autumn Court was standing now, smiling down at baby Alysa. 

"I think it's time for me to retire as well, love," She said, carefully handing you your daughter.

"Of course, sleep well." You kissed her cheek and watched her leave, leaving you alone with Alysa in the firelit room. "I think it's time we go, princess, don't you agree?" Her nose twitched in her sleep and your heart grew in size.

"I'll take that as a yes then. You've had a long, hard day." You continued to whisper to her as you walked down the corridor, nonsensical comments. Talking to your baby was supposed to improve their speech in the future, you had read, and you found yourself enjoying your one-sided chats with your daughter. Especially when she gazed up at you with those beautiful, familiar eyes. 

The fire was lighting in your room, a maid clearly having just been there, for which you were grateful. Slowly, you lowered her into her bassinet, stroking her soft cheeks.

The door opened softly. Quiet footsteps. You didn't turn around.

"How is she sleeping?" Eris' voice was quiet in the dimly lit room.

"Fine, she sleeps through the night, thankfully."

"I'll get her if she does wake up."

"She doesn't like strangers." A low blow, but necessary. Where was Eris when Alysa cried her tiny lungs out and Hugo and Maeve cried from the overwhelming noise? Where was he when you were so exhausted and overwhelmed that you sobbed into your pillow in the early days of his departure, or when the postpartum feelings lasted longer than they had after your first two births.

"I'm not a stranger…"

"You held her as a newborn, she won't remember you. She barely tolerates the maids that have been there since her birth."

"Darling…" a hand on your shoulder, turning you around.

"What, Eris? What do you want me to say? That I missed you? That I was drowning when you left? You cannot just return all of a sudden and expect things to be as they were. Maeve and Hugo miss you desperately, Alysa doesn't know you, and I… "

"And you?"

"I needed you." Your voice was barely audible as you confessed, avoiding his eyes. “This recovery…has not been like the others. Your father-”

“What about him? Has he done something?” Eris’ eyes flamed, his mind clearly racing with possibilities of his father’s actions.

“No, Eris, he has not. He visited after you left, to see the children. Hugo received most of his attention, of course. Called him your heir.”

“He knows that Maeve is my heir. She is the eldest.”

“It hardly matters. Hugo is a male, and that is all Beron sees. Otherwise, his visit was fine. Nice to have company, no matter how awful the person.” Another earned blow.

“I will see him.”

“So he can give you another reason to leave?”

“Y/N, please, I had no choice.”

“I know that! You had no choice, I’m fucking aware, what I’m frustrated about is that you expect things to be the same as they were. Did you think I would not be angry?” 

Alysa stirred, making soft noises in her sleep, reminding you to keep your voice down. 

“I will make it up to you. To our children.”

A wave of exhaustion washed over you. Exhaustion, frustration, and also acceptance. “I’m tired, I’m going to bed.”

Eris looked uncertain, standing in his own room. “May I-”

“I don’t care, Eris, sleep wherever you want. She’ll wake in a few hours to be fed, anyway.”

“My love, I can’t sleep if you are upset with me.”

“I’m just tired. So, so tired. Goodnight, Eris.”

No more was said, sleep hitting you almost immediately, the exhaustion of motherhood more powerful than your frustration. When Alysa awoke, Eris was not in the room.

. . . 

For the first time in a while, you woke up in an empty bed. Alysa cried softly, soothing easily once you picked her up from her crib and put her to your breast. You quietly walked down the corridor, to your children’s shared room, until they get older. 

Eris was in Maeve’s bed, his tall body barely fitting in her small bed. She was held tight in his arms, as Hugo lay on Eris’ strong chest. The three of them slept soundly. Alysa’s cry made Eris’ eyes flutter, making eye contact with you. 

“You look comfortable.”

“So comfortable,” he said, looking the exact opposite. “I went to Beron last night.”

“You did?”

“No more missions for a time, not until I make up for my actions. I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for you after Alysa, I’m sorry that she doesn’t know me. Please, my love, not sleeping with you was torture.” He got up slowly, careful not to wake up Maeve or Hugo. Walking to you, holding your face in his calloused palms.

“I needed you…” gradually the wall began to crumble, as tears began to stream down your face. You held your baby girl close, a protection of sorts.

Eris looked like he was on the verge of tears as well, pressing his lips to your forehead. “I have failed you, without a doubt. I will make it up to you, my love, if you’ll let me.”

He took Alysa from your arms, carefully holding her in one arm, using the other to pull you in close. “A second did not pass where I did not think of you. I’m so sorry.”

“Please, stay.”

“I will, my love, I’ll never hurt you like that again.”

“I love you.” Wiping the tears from your face, looking up at your mate, the father of your children.

“I love you too, darling. I am yours forever. I swear it.”

[littlest-w01f]

Fiery Lover

Thesan x Vanserra sister!OC (Vesta Vanserra)

THESAN MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: The middle daughter of Autumn forms an infatuation with the High Lord of Dawn

Cw: Drinking, smoking, a little smutty in the beginning, Eris cockblocking

The music was loud, matching Vesta's heartbeat as she danced on the table of the bar, her hips moving with the rhythm of the music, the thigh-length red dress she was wearing moved with her hips, a deep plunge neckline that left nothing to imagine, her deep red hair kept short and a red headpiece sitting snug on her head and a red lip to match.

A bottle of scotch in one hand, a cigarette holder in the other, drinking directly from the narrow nozzle of it, smoking the drugs rolled up in a pipe, she sang the lyrics loudly, a bunch of males and females dancing on the floor near her, a few females on the table with her.

Vesta dropped down and pulled a male in closer by his clothing, he was a lesser Fae, with scaley dragon-like skin peeping from the inside of his clothes, his eyes cat-like. She raised the bottle of scotch over his mouth and poured it down with a smirk, a smile on his face as his forked tongue slid out of his lips, letting the alcoholic liquid go down his throat, she'd already decided she was going home with him, or perhaps take him against one of the walls of the tavern they were in.

Both of them had been eyeing each other all night, she didn't know his name, but she was sure he knew hers, she was royalty. The only daughter of the Vanserra family, well-known in every tavern of her Court, the bartenders and workers knew her well, knowing she came in a spend a load of her money, something Beron, her father despised, which made Vesta party harder.

She got down from the table, right in front of the male, who leaned down to kiss her, she pressed her lips against his back, alcohol pumping in her veins, her feet slightly aching from dropping down, she pulled the male in, arms wrapped around his shoulders, he pushed her back against the bar table she had been dancing on, learning a chuckle out of her. "Hello, Princess," He growled in the kiss.

She gasped as he bit her lower lip, piercing her with his fangs, and licking her blood clean. "Declicious," He growled, his lust in both their eyes.

"Yeah...?" She smiled, pulling him another kiss, her healing kicking in, she felt up his chest, feeling the scales that his clothes hid, "Maybe you'd like to taste more." She whispered pulling away from the kiss, licking over his lips.

When he groped her ass, his clawed hands digging in under her dress a pale hand was over the male's shoulders, pulling him off her, Vesta glared at the person the hand belonged to, Eris.

"Let go of my sister if you don't want me to burn part of you that you'd rather keep." The Heir of Autumn growled.

The male was panicked at his threat, moving to get his hand off him, as Vesta spoke, "He won't, it's alright," She reassured the male, she mouthed sorry to him as Eris held his hand out to her.

Vesta got dragged out by Eris, "Eris..." She rolled her eyes, "I'm not a child, I can handle myself."

"Yet you still let me drag you out." Eris pointed out at his younger sister stumbling slightly, letting her hand go, "Besides, remember father had got a letter by Rhysand for a High Lord meeting..."

"Is it right now...?" Vesta cut him off, jumping lightly to take her heels off and then walk bare feet, rolling her eyes and looking back at the tavern, "If not, can I go back and get laid?"

Eris sighed, taking Vesta's heels from her hands, "Father wants you home, and as much as I love watching him lose his shit, I don't think you should anger him too much, little fox. We leave in the morning, we need to pack your bags."

The cool night air hitting Vesta like a refreshing slap in the face. The signs of the surrounding bars and restaurants cast a colourful glow over the deserted street. Vesta stumbled slightly, she tried to keep up with Eris' long strides.

Even drunk and high Vesta caught the change in his tone, "What do you mean, Eris?"

"I'm not sure exactly," Eris replied, his voice low and husky from the smoke-filled atmosphere inside. "Father can be quite… persuasive when he wants something. And lately, he's been acting strange. Almost… desperate."

Vesta raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "Desperate? What do you mean?"

Eris glanced around nervously before leaning in close to Vesta. "I've seen him arguing with some of his associates, making deals that seem shady even for him."

"This meeting has something to do with Hybern, I think they're more to it." Eris commented, keeping his insights of watching her stumble around, biting the insides of his cheeks to not say a thing or smile.

Vesta nodded gently, adjusting her headpiece correctly on her head, "I'm coming back here after the meeting, Er..."

The Dawn Court was beautiful, bright and glowing, Vesta walked beside Eris, behind her father and mother, she wore a dress his father least hated, the gorgeous, vibrant red silk of her dress catching the light and casting mesmerizing patterns across the room. The bodice hugs her curves snugly, accentuating her figure. At the same time, the halter neckline framed her face perfectly, drawing attention to her siren eyes that shone like molten lava under the twinkling chandelier above.

The full skirts billow out dramatically, creating an ethereal ballet of colour as she moved. Each movement sent ripples through the layers of fabric, revealing glimpses of the intricate beadwork adorning the underskirt. Every stitch and bead has been meticulously placed, both Vesta and her mother wore intricate gowns, a testament to her father's wealth.

The High Lord of Autumn filed through the archway, his children in rank behind him. Vesta looked around the round table, looking for her brother, the one missing, managing to hide her frown when she didn't find Lucien.

Her brothers sneered at the table, the Peregryns ruffled their feathers, almost getting ready to attack, and even the Summer royals sneered back at her brothers. Eris murmured, "Enough," and all the younger brothers fell into line. Pulling Vesta with him, her hand on his elbow.

"It’s no surprise that you’re tardy, given that your own sons were too slow to catch my mate. I suppose it runs in the family." Rhysand greeted Beron, and Vesta cracked a smile at the dig at her father, even though she hid it well.

She took a seat beside Eris, and Thesan began. "Rhysand, you have called this meeting. Pushed us together sooner than we intended. Now would be the time to explain what is so urgent."

Vesta sighed, looking over at Thesan, his strict posture was all for show, his skin kissed by the early morning sun itself, and her eyes raked over his features. His appearance was as polished as ever, every detail carefully tended to. She couldn't help but admire him, even though she knew better than to indulge in such thoughts.

Her concentration on Thesan's lovely features was broken as a crack of Spring storm swirled in the room, Tamlin stood in the chambers, winnowing in directly, a wolfish grin on his features.

"We were not expecting you, Tamlin." Thesan spoke after a long beat of silence, gestured with a slender hand toward his attendant who cringed when his lord did. "Fetch the High Lord a chair."

Beron smirked, looking at the High Lord of Spring, "I will admit, Tamlin, that I am surprised to see you here. Rumor claims your allegiance now lies elsewhere."

Vesta masked the cringe as she felt pity for Caspar, her elder brother as the attendant set a chair down for Tamlin between him and a Day court member, neither looked too thrilled about it.

"Let’s get on with it, then." Helion spoke to resume the meeting.

But then started the lovers spat and bickering as Tamlin couldn't seem to help himself, "If you hadn’t stolen my bride away in the night, Rhysand, I would not have been forced to take such drastic measures to get her back." Tamlin smiled almost hauntingly.

"The sun was shining when I left you." Feyre spoke and Vesta couldn't help her snort, not even when Tamlin dismissed Feyre completely and turned to glare at Vesta, his glare blocked by each of her brothers who sat up straight.

"Blah blah blah..." Vesta cut off another of Tamlin's ramblings, rolling her eyes, the attention now on her, "Are you here to talk business or not, Tamlin? There is a war coming... You take your petty lovers quarel elsewhere." Her father would've reprimanded her for talking to a male like that, a High Lord no less, but she couldn't help her tongue, and not that she cared.

To say this meeting would go smoothly was an understatement, but at least she earned a smile from the High Lord of Dawn, the male sitting close to him covering his face with his feathered wings.

{General Taglist- @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot}

[lady-of-tearshed]

A Court of Sins and Nightmares

Chapter one

(Chapters index here)

Next Chapter

Eris Vanserra x OC! Alessia Mors

A/N: Hii omg. I was so excited to make this happen outside of my brain. I've literally been dreaming of this series for a while. And I feel quite good about how this first chapter turned out. A huge thanks to @sarawritestories and @milswrites for the feedback and support !💕 😊

Summary: Alessia Mors is expected to marry Eris Vanserra to concretize his alliance with the Night Court.

Word count: 1,205k

Warnings: Some harsh language, I think. Nothing more for now...

“Either you accept this engagement, or I’ll send you to the Bog of Oorid to meet your sweet mother!” Thanatos roared in anger from the other side of the door.

“I’ll gratefully accept, then! That already sounds like a much sweeter proposition than marrying the devil!” 

Alessia was certainly not going to let her grip off that door. Nor would the mass of fog. Or so she thought.

As soon as Keir’s voice boomed, the murk quickly hid under her bed.

With the resistance of her powers gone, Thanatos easily yanked the door open, sending Alessia flying to the ground. “Can’t even handle your own daughter now, Thanatos?” 

Thanatos was quick to tackle Alessia to the ground. She tried to wiggle and squirm under her father’s grip as he restrained her hands and ankles with heavy golden chackles. Keir was staring at the scene happening right before him, lazily leaning against my door frame. Alessia was most certainly looking like some hissing cat right now, all claws and teeth out.  “Let’s just hope Eris can discipline her, Keir. Maybe she'll be easier to tame than your daughter.”

Gross. Utterly and completely gross, Alessia turned her head to Thanatos and grimaced. She may not hold snobby Morrigan in her heart, but Eris nailing Morrigan's womb to "discipline her" was wrong.

Alessia couldn’t figure out which of the four males I hated more at the moment… Keir for his mistake to force Morrigan into marrying Eris, Thanatos for repeating the same mistakes with her, Beron for raising shitty and cruel sons, or Eris for his lack of balls to confront his father? 

Before she could even mentally elaborate on this theory, Keir lifted her chin and forced her mouth open. He brought a tiny vial to her lips, and emptied a silver liquid in her mouth. He pinched her nose and pressed his hand over her lips, forcing her to swallow. “There, this should at least sweeten her up for the duration of that quick business talk with Eris.” Keir taunted, a shit-eating grin rising on one side of his lips. 

Alessia instantly recognize what she had been forced to swallow. It was a potion made of lavender essence, peppermint, and a tiny drop of faebane extract. Its purpose was to help calming people suffering from severe anxiety disorders. Such as soldiers suffering from PTSD or panic disorder, for example. “Did you just use my own potions against me?!” She wanted to yell at the realization.

How dared he?! She wanted to spit on his perfectly polished shoes, to bite his toes off… But the faebane contained in this concoction quickly dulled her, making her feel like she was moving, talking and breathing very slowly. She was... weirdly calm.

Drugged.

As much as faebane was harmful to Faes when used topically, it was completely harmless if ingested in small quantities.

“Make sure she’s ready in not more than twenty minutes, and take the restraints off her wrists. Wouldn’t want Eris to notice them until he agrees to wed her so we can concretize this alliance. Keep the ones on her ankles though, make sure they’re unnoticeable under her dress. Wouldn’t want your nasty gremlin to run away, not that she would be able to… with this ingenious concoction…” Keir smiled devilishly and crushed the vial under his feet before walking away from his spot.

Alessia frowned. She would've reused that vial... those were quite expensive.

Thanatos untied Alessia's wrists and sat her down on the chair in front of the vanity. Domestic rushed inside the room on cue to get Alessia ready.

Before leaving my

Thanatos walked to the door, about to leave the room too. He halted before he could step iut of the room, turning his head to look over his daughter. He sighed, “Just… behave. For once.”

Alessia wanted to be mad, to scream, to fight, to snap, but the potion affected her too much to react. Thanatos left the room before she could say anything.

The domestics started to brush her long hair, fighting to put her wild curls in a neat bun. It didn't take long for them to ready Alessia. She had been dressed, powdered and her hair was done in barely fifteen minutes.

Before she got dragged out of the room by them, she took the opportunity to slide a dagger into the hidden sheath wrapped around her thigh when they turned their attention away from her to rummage through her jewelery box, busying to find the best necklace to fit her gown.

When they finally turned around, and wrapped the silver necklace around Alessia's neck, she couldn't help a snicker to erupt from her mouth.

One of her domestic rose a suspicious brow and politely asked “Is something wrong, miss?”

“No… No. It’s nothing, I’m just a bit tired.” Alessia quickly answered, covering up her lie.

It was, in fact, not ‘nothing’ at all. On the contrary… things were about to get quite… interesting. The potion Keir had stolen from jer had been brewed to help a little girl who was suffering from severe PTSD since witnessing her parents' horrible death at such a young age. A little girl weighing not more than forty-four pounds… Which was almost four times less than Alessia's weight...

The dosage was greatly insuficient for herself, and the effect would quickly wear off. She was certainly going to use this information to her advantage... later.

Alessia was quickly escorted to the giant dining room. The sound of the chains wrapped around her ankles was muffled by the carpet flooring. Alessia took the seat across from the red-headed Devil, Eris Vanserra. His hands were crossed over his head, his shirt lifted up slightly, exposing his hip bone. Alessia couldn’t help but stare at where his shirt was lifted for a while longer and grinned. The sound of her chair moving as she sat down was what made her presence noticed, and the three pairs of eyes flipped in her direction.

Alessia's eyes locked on Eris amber eyes. She tried to stay grounded, but she would be lying to herself if she said that the Devil, as bad as he was, was damned handsome.

If she could've been given the chance to take a bite, she would have. Probably.

A/N (again 🤭): I really really hope you liked it! And what's going to come next... Woooo! They're not going to have it easy!! 😉💕

Taglist: @milswrites @sarawritestories

[secret-third-thing]

Chapter 4: Fathers, Be Good to Your Daughters

Another Eris chapter. I swear this isn't filler. Lot of fun lil details for the people with their conspiracy boards at home 🧡

Eris x OC | Rated E | Read on AO3 | Read on tumblr below the cut

Read on Tumblr: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Gianna of Montesere's life is shattered when her family becomes the target of a chilling assassination attempt. Forced into exile at her estranged father's side in the Autumn court, she embarks on a journey that thrusts her into the treacherous depths of Prythian's most perilous family. Amidst the dazzling highs and heart-wrenching lows of cutthroat politics, Gianna discovers an unexpected love in Eris Vanserra that turns her world upside down.

Warnings: Typical violence and scheming, gambling, old-school slut shaming (nothing in this chapter other than more dead bird talk)

If you want to be on a taglist, let me know. I forgot to start one earlier.

No one stopped Eris as he left Forest House and walked to the estate’s perimeter, where the trees of the old Autumn Wood gave way to his father’s home. Here, the trees sparkled in the waning sun of the day; the leaves glimmering brilliant reds, oranges, and greens.

The forest was far older than his ancestral home, far older than the fae themselves. While there were various settlements throughout the Court, they had not been founded through some resource-based strategy, instead emerging where the trees had yielded to the fae. Any place the woods did not want them, their kind did not survive.

Advisor Bassell had not been wrong about what haunted the woods. A handful of Autumn’s tomes, located deep in the royal archives, documented ancient creatures that had once ruled Autumn. Eris had only seen the documents once when he had accompanied Beron into the deep recesses of the archives to search for mentions of some ancient artifact - a sword. From what he recalled, most of the ancients here had been the Daglan, the deathless monsters who had hunted his kind for sport. Several fae in Autumn would swear they could hear the call of the hunting horn echoing within the wood. And many young fae who had wandered into the thicket at night had never been found again. Beron insisted there wasn’t anything notable to report, of course.

Eris walked along the edge of the trees and past piles of birds until the servants removing the creatures were far behind him. He’d ask them questions later when they had finished and weren’t working under the pressure of his father’s watchful eye.

The songbirds that usually warbled at the end of the day were silent, now lifeless on the ground, leaving the surrounding area unusually quiet. Though he wasn’t frightened, Eris wished he had brought his hounds along. Even if his father didn’t believe in ancient beings, he certainly did; He knew what creatures roamed the woods of Spring. He had heard of what monsters the Night Court’s prison held. Eris was certain their kin were here as well.

As the mossy roof of the Forest House vanished from view, Eris noted less fallen birds in the area. He was confident that the servants had yet to make their way out here. It was as though the animals were aiming towards the estate. The cicadas had emerged and perished rather quickly, but the birds…. They had all been swarming Forest House. Something for him to investigate later.

He spotted a finch splayed out on the ground. Eris picked up the tiny thing, cradling it gently in his hands. The feathers of its wings were soft against his fingers. And yet Eris could sense some kind of magic on the bird, like residue. Something old… deep magic… Daglan magic. Bassell’s words echoed in his brain. Once his father’s meeting was done, he’d need to follow up with the advisor, probably tomorrow.

A rustle in the woods interrupted Eris’s train of thought. The male froze, still as a predator, and scanned the woods for any sign of movement. No other animals were in the area, nothing climbing the trees or leaping from branches. Eris stepped forward to the edge of the wood, almost at the threshold, where the roots of the trees emerged from the ground and twisted around each other.

The noise happened again, and Eris gazed into the depths of the forest beyond where he stood. He felt something staring back. Eris lifted a foot to step on a root and approached the creature, but the air seemed to crackle around him. Not quite a warning, but not an invitation. The hairs on the back of his neck rose, and his legs were unable to move him forward or away - he was stuck.

“Show yourself,” Eris said, his own voice wavering. He willed his hand to move to the pummel of his dagger belted at his waist, but his body was frozen, still grasping the bird. There was no response. Instead, a gust of wind blew out from the forest, nearly knocking him back, and the scent of oak and sweet moss curled around him.

Eris scoured his brain for a reason, to understand what was happening, but almost as soon as he felt the thing’s presence, it vanished. The only evidence of it being there was a patch of dead foliage on the ground turned a dark, sooty black, as though someone had set the forest floor alight. The air now smelled of smoke. Eris dared to step forward and nudged the soot with his boot. It seemed like simple debris, save for the circling of magic, bitter and earthy, swirling around him.

Eris wasted no time, winnowing back to Forest House and shutting himself away in his study. No creature of the wood would find him here. The study was small, tucked away in a less used area of the manor, but it offered him respite from the endless pestering of courtiers and servants. He sat down in the plush chair of his desk and took a moment to appreciate the solitude.

Soon, Eris examined the finch, turning the creature over in his hands. The bird was still intact, with no apparent harm. If anything, it seemed like it had been frozen in time when its little heart stopped. Eris stroked its head gently. Had it known it would die, a soldier in some death god’s game? Or had it been a surprise?

As Eris sent a tendril of magic into the bird, he encountered resistance, as if the deep magic, as the advisors had dubbed it, wanted him out. He retreated and frowned. Eris tried his magic again, this time ever so gently, letting it seep in rather than prod. He felt the threads of the other magic open until it started weaving with his, trying to pull him into the tapestry of whatever spell had enthralled and killed the creature.

Someone knocked on his study door, and Eris yanked his magic from the bird. It felt like he was ripping a cloth in half, an unsettling, tearing sensation. Eris furrowed his brow and grimaced, wondering if it was safe to have the bird in here at all. After a beat, he set the bird on a cloth and then removed his gloves.

“Come in,” Eris said. The door creaked open, revealing Bassell. The brunette male stole a glance behind him into the hallway before stepping into Eris’s lavish study.

“I was hoping to have a moment alone,” Bassell said softly. Eris flicked his hand, and the door sealed shut, a protective ward shimmering so no one could walk in or listen to their conversation.

“What is it?” Eris asked. Bassell settled into the other chair at Eris’ desk, his eyes fixed on the brown bird between them. He reached to touch the creature, but then hesitated. Gone was the fierce debater from his father’s meeting.

“I stand by what I said before,” he murmured. “The magic in these animals predates the fae. It’s ancient. But why it’s woven into such common creatures, I can’t fathom.”

“Whatever the magic, it’s still active,” Eris said, tapping his fingers against the arm of his chair. “It reacts and attaches to living magic.”

“Like an arcane parasite,” Bassell said. “May I?” He gestured to the bird.

“Be my guest,” Eris replied. He cocked a brow and watched the male hover his hand over the creature. Bassell closed his eyes and clenched his jaw in concentration. Not a minute later, his hand wavered, and he pulled it back quite suddenly.

“Fascinating,” he said with a shiver. He massaged his palm, likely having experienced the same ripping that Eris had.

“Is it?” Eris asked. “I’d think you’d be more concerned.”

“My apologies,” Bassell said. “It is concerning, but this kind of magic differs from what we know and use. I’m surprised your father isn’t more interested. This power is difficult to control, and more difficult to counter.”

“Give him time. My father will be if he isn’t already,” Eris said, as he watched the male continue to prod at the finch. “How much more do you know?”

Bassell paused, the bird giving off an eerie glow from whatever magic he was using.

“Not much at the moment, but I can send a report when my healers finish their research.” Bassell pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and gently wrapped it around the finch and bought it closer to him. He scanned its body, then turned it over. The eerie glow on the bird stopped. Eris sighed. He might as well give the finch to Bassell.

“I expect you to keep what you relay to my father to a minimum. And if you cannot, let me know what he knows.”

“You have my word.” Bassell replied. He was staring straight into the beady, black eyes of the creature. He didn’t seem like he was leaving any time soon, so Eris cleared his throat.

“Is this really why you’re here? Certainly, this conversation could have waited until tomorrow.”

“Well, yes… and no,” Bassell said. His eyes flickered away from the bird to the portrait of the Vanserra family hanging on the far wall behind the heir and then back to Eris. He gave a thin-lipped smile.

“What is it?” Eris pressed again. Bassell was always so hesitant.

“My daughter...” Bassell began, “She’s coming to Autumn.”

“I didn’t know you had a family,” Eris stated plainly. Well, most of his father’s advisors had a family: a wife, children. It was the respectable thing to do - something the Autumn Court valued. But Bassell never brought a wife with him to court. No children, young or grown, had been introduced to the Vanserras. It was unusual, but Eris hadn’t found a reason to pry until now.

“I don’t. She’s the result of an affair. Her mother is... noteworthy, and I was a fool for not marrying her,” Bassell said. The male possessed the slightest tinge of pink on his cheeks. His eyes were dancing across the room, hiding from Eris’ narrowed stare.

“I hope you are not implying what you seem to be,” Eris said.

Bassell put his hands up, horror plain on his face. “Oh, absolutely not,” he sputtered. “I-I would never presume -“

“Then do get to your point. It’s getting late and I have other things to do, Bassell,” Eris interjected, his voice even and cold.

“Gianna,” Bassell said. “Her name is Gianna.”

Eris frowned at this, waiting for Bassell to continue. It did not matter to him what she was named.

“Gianna is coming to Autumn sometime next week. Her mother is the spymaster,” Bassell said. “But she’s being accompanied by the emissary, not her mother.” This fact obviously meant something to the advisor. His brows were furrowed, and he seemed almost frazzled by the information.

“And does my father know?”

“He informed us after you left.”

Eris paused at this. It was peculiar for his father to allow a strange female from the continent into their court, especially one from Montesere. He recalled from several meetings ago that his father had been in contact with emissaries from the kingdoms on the continent, but a Gianna was not mentioned as someone of interest. It was equally strange that this news had not come from Bassell, the female’s father, but from his father... unless the advisor really did have an awful relationship with his former lover, something that Eris could at least understand.

“What else did he say?” he asked Bassell.

“Nothing. Only that she was staying at Forest House. I’ll be staying here as well.”

“How is this, at all, relevant to the birds?” Eris asked, suspicion lacing his words.

“I want to make a deal,” Bassell replied.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am. Ensure my daughter stays out of trouble, and I’ll use all my resources to help you understand what’s happening in Autumn.” Bassell shifted in his seat. His shoulders were now squared, eyes boring into Eris’s with such confidence Eris hadn’t seen in the male before.

“I am not babysitting a spoiled brat from the continent,” Eris said, his patience wearing thin.

Bassell leaned over the desk, dangerously close. His eyes gleamed. “I know your goals. Use her as leverage, if you must. She has her family’s ear,” Bassell urged, barely above a whisper. Eris refused to acknowledge the implication.

“And did you offer this deal to my father as well? Is this why you sit at his table?” Eris asked. “Did you sell your daughter’s freedom for a chance at power? I recall you come from nothing.” Bassell flinched at Eris’s words.

“I did what any good father would do,” Bassell said. His jaw was set, and he grasped the arms of his chair.

“She was likely fine in Montesere,” Eris spat back. “What does my father intend now you’ve dragged her into this?”

“He only knows her heritage and offered her a place to stay. What else he plans is beyond my knowledge, Eris.”

The room fell into a tense silence, the weight of their unspoken agreement settling between them. Either Bassell was the worst politician he had met this century, or his father set another scheme in motion, one Eris somehow missed.

“I’ll make sure she doesn’t get herself killed,” Eris said. The only kind of agreement he’d willingly make. Bassell seemed satisfied with this and leaned back in his chair, a smile creeping onto his face.

“I think you’ll find the Monteserrans more interesting than you think.”

“If by interesting you mean scandalizing,” Eris said. “I can’t think of a group my father would hate more.”

“But what will you think?”

Eris scoffed at his answer, but Bassell simply hummed, lost in thought. 

[queercontrarian]

welcome to my blog. if you don't like it here, leave :)

Links

AO3: MaladaptiveDaywriting

Fanfic

Finished

Azris Week 2023 Day 3: Put it all on me

Azris Week 2023 Day 6: A Soft Place to Land (18+)

Rhys Week 2023 Day 4: Court of Dreams

SJM Romance Week 2024 Day 4: The Little Things (Tamsand)

WIP

Agegap Azris

Chapter 1

Secret Santa 2023: To Dust Or To Gold (Neris)

Prologue

The Bargain

Art

Characters

Azriel (Femme)

Beron

Cassian

Elain

Eris

Eris at Starfall

Feyre

Gianna of Montesere for secret-third-thing

Gwyn Berdara

Jesminda

Jurian

Female Jurian

Mor

Nesta

Lucien I

Lucien II

Rhysand

Lucien III (but in lingerie this time)

Female Lucien

Rhys in a skirt

Rhysand's Unnamed Sister

Rhysand's Unnamed Sister II

The Lady of Autumn

The Lady of Autumn II

Thesan

Tsering of Lausan, Captain of the Royal Guard (Thesan's husband)

Vassa

Multi + Ships

Army Dreamers (balthazar, emerie, zhila)

Cresseida x Emerie

Elucien + Daughter for fieldofdaisiies

Family Portrait: Feyre - Rhys - Nyx

Sapphic Feysand

Viviane and Kallias

Female High Lords Series

Beron

Kallias

Rhys

Tamlin

Tarquin

Event Weeks

Cassian Week 2024 Day 5: Scars

Elucien Week 2024 Day 1: Fated - In the Hands of Fate

Eris Week 2024 OC Art Project

Poly Acotar Week 202: The Bane of the Loyalists

SJM Romance Week 2024 Day 7: Elucien

Rhys Week 2024: Armand!Rhys

Tamlin Week 2023: Tamsand Sketch

Tamlin Week 2024 Day 2: Poet/Warrior Tamlin

Sketches

Alis Sketch

Azris Sketch

Summer Court Trio Sketch

The Vanserras

Commissions

Tarquin by mossytrashcan

Cresseida by mossytrashcan

Varian by mossytrashcan

Azriel in Summer by krem-does-stuff

Other

A Tamsand Playlist

Briar x Catrin Berdara Moodboard

[shadowqueenjude]

My Completed Fics

I tried to organize it all the best I could. There is definitely more, complete and incomplete, that I missed, which can be found either on my ao3 ibelieveinvanserrasupremacy or by searching my tumblr, or they’re already linked in fandom week submissions here.

Read on Ao3:

Star Wars:

Never Underestimate a Pregnant Woman

I saw a post about how Padme was way too calm in ROTS on Mustafar considering how stressful her pregnancy was and the added stress of all the hiding and I thought hey Ima write the Mustafar scene but with Padme’s pregnancy hormones kicking in!

(Anidala, one-shot)

Leia meets her dad

I just think Leia deserved closure with her dad too…

(Anakin-Leia relationship, one-shot)

The Hunger Games Universe:

The Wilds

What if Lucy Gray hadn't run away into the forest?

(Snowbaird)

His First Lady

OC goes back in time to try and prevent the second war by ending the hunger games decades earlier.

(Coriolanus x OC)

Fire and Ice

Lucy Gray returns from the forest a decade after she ran away

(Faerie AU, Snowbaird, one-shot)

Love Mockingjay, Sincerely Jabberjay

Lucy Gray has returned from the forest and she is dying. Given the mayor who still hunted her, she had no choice but to reach out to the very person who had tried to kill her: Coriolanus Snow

(Snowbaird, epistolary)

A Court of Thorns and Roses:

Make the Switch

What if Tamlin had shapeshifted to take Feyre's place in the bargain in ACOMAF?

(Tamsand, some Feycien)

Nesta’s villain origin story

Nesta decides to destroy the Inner Circle…with some help

(Neris, Elucien, Feyre x OC)

Lucien decides to put his Day Court powers to good use

Yep, pretty much the title.

(Highly anti IC, some Elucien and Neris)

Tamlin decides Feyre is not worth the trouble

Vindication for Tamlin 😈

(Tamlin x Tarquin, Elucien)

Tamlin’s Life Story

Basically Tamlin in a Greek tragedy

(Doomed Tamcien and a multitude of other Tamlin ships. TW for abuse, torture, & mild gore)

Lady of Spring

What if Tamlin's mother had left her husband? Exploration of a rejected mating bond.

(Mainly mother-son bonding)

Sister of the Bride

After her terrible experience with mating bonds, Nesta is determined to stop her sister's wedding to her mate, Lucien Vanserra. Unfortunately for her, Lucien's brother Eris is equally determined to ensure the wedding happens.

(Inspired by Kanthony. Elucien and Neris)

Tamlin get tortured but he loves it

Angsty gorey porn with no plot. THIS FIC IS NOT FOR THE FAINT-HEARTED. It traumatized me and I wrote it.

Just a Breath Away

A compilation of Elucien one-shots

The Trials of Beron Vanserra

Beron Vanserra has been killed by his own wife. He has been sent to the afterlife where he will be judged. However, just when he is about to be sent to hell, Beron convinces the judges to give him one chance: survive the Trials, and he can be reborn for another chance at heaven. Should he fail…he goes to hell. And given the main judge is Beron’s own sister who he wronged in life, she is not going to make it easy for him.

Read on Tumblr

The Folk of the Air:

Madoc x Reader 1

Madoc x Reader 2

Throne of Glass:

Elorcan

Lorcan teaches Elide how to read, one-shot

Elorcan

Lorcan teaches Elide how to fight, one-shot

Elorcan

Elide brings home a cat, one-shot

THG universe:

The Snow Family Curse

It seems crimes of passion run in the family…

(Coriolanus and daughter OC, one-shot)

ACOTAR:

Rhysta and the Hat Saga

…no I will not elaborate

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)

Eris makes a deal with Keir

Haven’t you wondered what Eris said to Keir to keep him away from Velaris?

(one-shot)

Azriel sucks at spying

Azriel gets caught spying by Eris

(Azris, one-shot)

That scene at the High Lord’s meeting

But from Azriel’s POV

(Azris, one-shot)

Big Bro Ewis and Baby Bro Lulu

A sneak peak into what their brotherly relationship once was

(one-shot)

Eltamcien

Lucien and Tamlin are so depressed that they do things they would never consider otherwise

(one-shot)

[f4irycafe]

favorite crime

chapter ii

summary: a story between the forgotten vanserra sister and her mate, the shadowsinger of the night court.

pairing: azriel x vanserra oc

word count: 5.4k

series warnings: graphic sexual assault, mental illness, graphic violence, falling in love, soft sex, misogyny, mentions/recalling of past rape, right person-wrong time, tragic love story, fluff.

notes: haha not that it's been three months of anything...but i'm back w another chapter. after this one, shit hits the FAN. please leave comments and REBLOG. REBLOG. REBLOG.

prologue masterlist

A dreamer.

That’s what she had always been and would continue to be.

“Freya!” She heard her mother gasp. She blinked - once, twice, until the sharp pain in her finger sunk into her bones.

“Get your head out of the clouds and be careful, child.” Odessa rushed to grab the napkin that sat at her side, standing up from her chair to kneel in front of her daughter. Freya’s eyebrows scrunched as her mother took the sewing needle from her pointer finger, dabbing it with the orange cloth.

A dreamer, yes. But at what cost? Her finger it would seem, would pay the price for her lofty thoughts.

“I’m sorry mother I was-,”

“Dreaming,” The older fae cut her off. “I know, I know.” Freya bent her head and smiled, trying to conceal it from her mothers view.

There was silence for multiple minutes until Odessa asked, “Where were you this time?” Freya’s smile brightened at the question, always happy to answer any and every question about her dreams.

“The cabin,” She said matter-of-factly. Ever since she was little, she would dream of this cabin. It happened every few months or so, and everytime she dreamt of it the scene was the same. It was a simple wooden structure. There were bright yellow curtains hanging on the two windows in the front of the house, as well as a raised porch that it sat on. She had never been able to go inside of it during her daydreams, but she had imagined what it would look like if she did. It laid in the middle of a field, much unlike the redwoods that sprawled over the expanse of the autumn court.

The cabin was everything that her life wasn't. Quaint, quiet, and peaceful.

“Of course you were,” Odessa said with a smile, continuing to stitch her fabric.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The young woman grumbled, aggressively stabbing her own cloth with her needle, careful to not impale her finger like she had just done.

“Nothing,” Her mother shook her head. She took note of the way Freya cut through her fabric and added, “You need to stop spending so much time with your brothers.” The ones that cared enough to spend time with her at least.

Neels and Finnagan never spent time with the other six siblings to begin with, preferring the company of each other instead. Damon was present enough in Freya’s life to where they shared somewhat of a familial bond. The rest of the Vanserra boys made a point to be involved in the upbringing of their littlest siblings, Eris leading the charge. Most of the boys shared little kind feelings towards her twin, but Freya was the apple of their eye.

The moon, they liked to call her.

For their life was no fairytale, they did not exist in the sun or day with the rest of the creatures of this world. They only knew darkness, the cold unyielding night that was their lives. But then she was born and added a light. A soft glow that managed to ease the coldest of their hearts.

Their moon.

“Have you thought of what you might want for your birthday?” Odessa asked. The subject of Freya’s upcoming eighteenth birthday had been a...touchy subject amongst the other members of the Vanserra family. It was a slow, brutal tourture, watching Freya grow up like a pig being led to the slaughter house. Almost all of the siblings had begged Beron at some point to delay her inevitable shipment to the highest bidder, but their words did little to sway his mind.

“No, not yet.” She wasn’t stupid, even though she loved to act like she was. She saw the way her mother hesitated to ask her the question, and saw the way her hands clenched on the edge of the cross stitch board. Not wanting to leave the conversation like that, Freya said “But I’ll let you know when I do.”

Two months, she had two months until her birthday. She didn’t know how much time she’d have left at the Forest House after that day, so she intended to make these next couple months count.

“Can I go now? I’ve finished just like you told me to.” Indeed she had, Odessa noted as she looked over to see her daughter's finished piece.

“When you see your Eris, tell him that I would like to speak with him.” Freya nodded, rushing to pick up her materials and put them away in her carrier. There was little time she had outside of lessons with her mother and servants, but when she did have free time she often spent it with her older brothers.

“Thank you mama. I’ll see you for dinner!” Freya called as she hurriedly walked back into the estate. Two guards flanked her the second she stepped inside, a silent presence as she flitted through the halls that lead towards her bedroom. She slyly greeted servants as she went, waving and offering kind smiles. She wasn’t supposed to acknowledge them as a member of the royal family. According to her father and brothers, they were no better than dogs for them to use as they pleased.

She dumped the materials on her desk the second she entered her room, her shoulders dropping in time with the loud clang that the metal in her bag made against her old wooden desk. Not wanting to waste any more of the day than she already had, she ran herself a quick bath. As much as she enjoyed stupidly twiddling her thumbs with her equally bored mother in the courtyard, Freya had better things to do with her day.

She changed into a looser maroon dress that fell to her ankles, as well as a pair of delicate flats. Beron had forbidden her to wear boots, pants, or shirts outside of her room. The only articles of clothing she owned that was not bought and tailored for her was a pair of boots Lucien had gifted her for her sixteenth birthday, a black tunic and a pair of brown riding pants, both of which had been another gift from Eris for the fall harvest. Grabbing her leather satchel, gifted to her by Johan, she stuffed the three items into her bag. She layered a picnic blanket on top so as to not rouse suspicion before setting out again.

Loud voices turned to hushed whispers as she stepped out into the hall. Her two guards had been caught in a conversation, or scolding by the looks of it, with the eldest Vanserra child.

“Prince Eris, we are under orders from our High Lord.” Ajax said. He had always been Freya’s favorite guard, he had been with her since before her memory served. He was the most lenient, if only because he enjoyed seeing that rare smile grace her features. Tolin was her other personal guard. He was much more strict than Ajax, but only because he wished to see the princess unharmed.

Beron had never laid hands on her before, and Tolin would make damn sure it stayed that way.

“Good for you. Freya, let's go.” Her eldest brother beckoned her to him with an impatient crook of his pointer finger. There was always an argument when Eris came to retrieve her. Halfhearted on her guards’ part, but an argument nonetheless.

“Be back before dinner,” Tolin muttered as Freya was yanked away from them by Eris. She nodded her head and smiled towards the male before the scene in front of her disappeared.

When her feet touched the ground again she was standing outside of Eris’s personal residence. All the boys had at least one house that they managed to hide from their father, Eris’s was the most popular.

“Can you tell your glorified babysitters to stop pestering me about father’s bullshit orders everytime I come to retrive you?” Freya smiled.

“Oh, but it's so fun to see how much they aggravate you.”

“Not to me it's not, you little minx.” Eris ruffled her straight hair, earning him a grunt and something else about how long it had taken to fix her hair that morning. Straight only because the curls she had been gifted by her father had been burned out by a flame many years ago. Eris had always wondered what she would have looked like with fiery red hair that sat around her head like a halo.

The first thing Freya did upon crashing the threshold into the house was run to the large bathroom on the first floor. Calling it a house would be too modest, for the foyer they were standing in said the exact opposite. But somehow, in his two hundred years or some odd years of living, Eris had managed to turn the grandeur estate into a place fit for a family.

After quickly relieving herself, the second order of business Freya had to attend to was raiding the kitchen. It was always stocked with her favorites, and Lucien’s. Who, speaking of the devil, was eating her can of peaches, perched atop the counter looking for all the world like he belonged there.

“Those were for me,” Freya whined as she approached him, readying to snatch the jar out of his hand. Lucien only flashed her that oh-so-aggravating smirk of his and held the can above his head, out of her reach.

“That's the best you got? Try harder next time,” He mocked, sliding a peach slice into his mouth. Lucien nearly shit himself when he saw the first tear cascade down Freya’s face.

The little bitch, he thought as he watched his twin burst out into tears. Quicker than he could stop her she moved behind him to stick her hand under the faucet. She dunked her face underneath the water, effectively soaking the top of her head.

“No. Freya. Stop it.” If Eris heard her. No, when Eris heard her, he was sure to have Lucien's head for making his favorite sibling cry.

Maybe he hadn’t heard. Lucien rationalized, maybe he’s occupied with something.

“What the hell happened. I leave for two seconds and,” Eris had been yelling at them before he had even set foot in the kitchen, and he cut himself off at what he saw. Lucien, sitting on the counter with a jar of peaches raised above his head. And Freya drenched standing beneath him.

“Out.” Eris barked at Lucien.

“No. Hey, I didn’t even do anything. I swear she just came in here and-,”

“Out, you fucking idiot. Don’t make me tell you again.” Eris wasn’t looking at him as he spoke, for he had already tucked Freya to his chest and started to dry her soaked head with a towel. Lucien scowled as he trudged out of the kitchen to find another room in the house to inhabit. Freya couldn’t help the small smirk that came to her face as she watched her brother leave, feeling more than satisfied with herself and her little performance.

“You can stop sniffling now, I get it.” Eris said when he was sure Lucien was out of hearing range. Freya laughed, taking the towel he had been using to dry her out of his hands to clean herself.

“That was fun.” Yes, tormenting her twin had become her favorite pastime recently. As her boredom grew with each day, so did her ambitiousness around her brothers.

“I think he might’ve pissed himself a bit. You terrified the poor lad.”

“He’ll live.” Eris smiled.

“I hid another can for you on the lowest level of the pantry. Take it up to your room.” Freya squealed with glee, clapped her hands together and dashed towards the cupboard, returning to Eris with a can of peaches in her hand and a bright smile on her face. He handed her a spoon before motioning with his head to the staircase that led to the upper three levels of the house. Freya took care not to run into Lucien again as she made her way to her room.

When she was younger, Eris had let her choose and design her room in the house. It was one of the first times she had ever been able to choose what she wanted, even if it was over something as simple as choosing a chest of drawers to store her clothes in. The room was beautiful, with a balcony and a bathroom built into it. Her other brothers always gave her shit for the fact that she was the only one with an en suite bathroom, and when they asked Eris about it he told them that it wouldn’t be fair for her to have to share it with the rest of the animals she was related to.

“Did Lucien steal your peaches again?” A voice asked from the doorway of the room.

“Of course he did. Eris saved me another can.”

“Of course he did,” Aliath said as he walked to the balcony.

“Is there a reason for this impromptu visit?” Freya asked as she took a sip of the tea she had poured for herself. She made sure to keep a stash of leaves in her room at all times. It was fairly easy to make considering the fact that she could boil whenever she wanted thanks to the small amount of firepower she had inherited from her mother.

“I see your vocabulary lessons are going smoothly. Yes, there was, actually.” He reached into his jacket to pull out a rectangular box.

“Happy Early Birthday, sister.” Freya smiled as she took the box from his hands, beginning to unwrap the delicate paper that encased it.

“My birthday isn’t for another two months.” Aliath shrugged like that statement meant nothing at all. Freya gasped when she finally saw the contents wrapped within, causing her to rip away the paper all more furiously.

A book, not a box. And not just any.

A book documenting the history of all the Solar Courts.

The histories of all the Seasonal Courts were grilled into her head since forever, her mother had insisted on teaching her about the relations of their neighboring courts, ones that they would be in alliance for many years to come. Her father had been less than thrilled and monitored her every step of her educational journey, but as long as she sat quietly and didn’t go getting any crazy ideas from her teachings he had no issue.

One thing Beron hated more than anything in this world was one of his children acting out of line. That was where the punishments came in.

“I’ll never understand why you enjoy reading this nonsense. But, if it brings that smile to your face everytime you lay your eyes upon it, I'll continue to empty my coffers.” He had always been the most charming, in a boyish sort of way. His shaggy red hair and freckled face only added to the appeal that had women shyly handing him their letters of confession whenever he went into town.

“Thank you, Ali,” Freya said as she smoothed the intricately designed cover of the book. It was full of golden swirls that weaved through the letters that created the title. It had been risen from the page in a way that only a few book makers knew how to do. He must have searched long and hard for this copy.

“Does this make me your favorite brother now?” He asked.

“No. But this does significantly drop Lucien's ranking,” He laughed, smacking his hand against the door.

“I expect something as magnificent for my name day as well.”

“Goodbye Ali. You gave me this book so let me read it in peace.” Another laugh fluttered through the hallway as he left her alone to explore her new gift. Freya managed to read a little under a quarter of the Dawn Court section before she was called to dinner by one of the few maids that Eris had hired. Few, because most everyone in the Autumn Court was too scared or cowardly to go against Beron and serve his sons.

“Dinner is ready, princess.” The older faerie called after she placed three quiet knocks on her bedroom door. Freya made sure to clean up the small mess she had made and find a place for her new book on her massive shelf before leaving the room to go to the first level of the house. The dining room overlooked the sprawling grounds, with massive windows scaling the walls.

“You managed to tear yourself away,” Aliath noted as she took a seat. “I’m impressed.” Freya rolled her eyes. They ate dinner an hour before the main estate did, ensuring that whoever stayed at Eris’ would have enough time to eat and make it back to the manor before Beron’s mandatory family dinner each night. Because of this, the meals they ate here were usually smaller; appetizer courses, at least for Freya. The boys could eat their weight thrice over, especially Lucien. Among the other idiotic rules Beron has placed on Freya over the course of her life, her strict meal time and portions was one of them.

He had always said he needed to keep her slim and small because those features were more likely to attract better males. A baby, he wanted to keep her a baby for her future husband. The thought made her sick.

Not that his methods had worked. Beron had no idea how the female body operated.

“Tear herself away from what?” Lucien asked as he entered the room, taking his spot next to his sister.

“Her birthday present.”

“Her birthday isn’t for another two months.” Lucien responded.

“That’s what I said!”

“Pushover,” Lucien muttered as he glared at his plate.

“Do you three ever shut up?” Eris said by way of greeting as he too walked into the room.

“If you don’t like it you can leave.” Aliath responded.

“This is my house.” The answering eyebrow raise he received made it clear that Ali didn’t care.

“Eat, you fucking vultures.” With a wave of his hand, plates of food appeared on the table. Freya speared straight for the desert; peach cobbler was her favorite. But, after receiving a look of disapproval from Eris she scooped mashed potatoes and a small portion of steak onto her plate as well.

They drank, ate and laughed until the hour was over, and it was time to return to the Forest House. Freya had over indulged that evening, resulting in her current groggy state. She always got tired after a big meal.

“I am not carrying you. You got me in trouble earlier.” Lucien said with a look of exasperation as he turned to his sister, his arms flapping wildly in front of his face.

“And I said I was sorry. Please,” Freya begged for the upteenth time in the past five minutes.

“No.” Lucien said.

“Yes.” His face morphed into one of indignation. “You’re supposed to do things for me as my older brother.” She continued.

“I will savor those five minutes until the day I die.” Nothing had ever been easy with Lucien. Sure, the twins had their tender moments, but they were few and far between. Freya enjoyed pushing him to the edge of his patience, then putting him in a compromising position with one of her other brothers. It never failed to amuse her how he’d stand there with his mouth open, gaping like a fish.

“Nobody’s carrying anyone. Freya, you have two perfectly capable legs. Use them.” Eris always knew when to step in to stop a potentially disastrous fight.

“Pampered Princess.” Aliath muttered under his breath as he passed them on his way out the front door. Freya was going to retort, but she couldn’t argue much with the truth.

“Any day now you three. Am I the only one in this god forsaken family with a sense of time?” And just like that, the Aliath that Freya hated had returned.

She savored the nights like this where they congregated at Eris’ estate. Free to roam the ground as they wished - free to be as they wished. It was never easy to say goodbye to the secret that was their familiar bond whenever they returned to the castle, but it had to be done. For all of their sakes. Aliath was cocky, so incredibly cocky it made her want to vomit. Eris’ was too, but he had always had a knack for pissing people off with his smooth words, where Ali usually used his talents to sleep with the various men and women of the court.

Lucien, as the seventh and last son, was mostly forgotten about, which allowed him to run rampant through the towns and cities in Autumn with little regard to how it reflected on his father. Hell, some people didn’t even know their High Lord had a seventh son. Damon was the stoic serious one, and that wasn’t a facade. Freya enjoyed the quiet that his company brought. He never forced her to speak, or bothered her with terrible jokes and stories. He sat with her, read with her, drank tea with her when she wished. Johan was rarely at home. He spent most of his time living in the small region of his court that Beron let him rule over; he only returned for holidays and special occasions. She missed him, he had always been soft with her, even more so than Eris. The other two though … she was convinced being heartless assholes was really just who they were.

Grabbing the bag she left in the foyer, she followed Eris out of the house. When he finished locking the doors and securing the wards, he winnowed them back to the lower levels of the House. Lucien and Aliath left directly after, each winnowing into their own quarters.

“I’ll walk you back.” Eris said in a way that made it seem like he wasn’t waiting for a response. He offered her his arm, which she gladly took, before walking up the stairs. Freya kept her gaze straight and eyes down as they passed people, servants and nobles. Eris stopped to make conversation a few times about things she couldn’t care less about. But she stood, and smiled stupidly just the same. It was hard not to cringe as the men eyed her like a piece of meat, and it didn’t help that Eris even added his two cents in.

He’s just pretending. She often found herself saying. This isn’t real.

“When is her name day, My Lord.” Oh god.

“A little under two months time,” Eris responded. Freya kept her eyes glued to the floor.

“My, how quickly has she grown. I remember when she was just a little babe.” She didn’t even know who this man was.

“Have you found her a husband yet?” The other man asked. There it was, she thought. People didn’t bother to address her anymore unless it had to do with the fact that Beron still hadn’t secured a match for her.

“Not yet. There are not many fit to have such a beautiful bride.” The three men chuckled and turned all their gazes towards her.

“What about you little lady? You must be thrilled.”

“I am very! These next two months couldn’t go any faster.” She didn’t wish that at all.

“If I may, my lord, I recommend my son as an excellent choice. Whatever her dowry, we can pay it. It would do both of our houses good to have such a fortunate match.” Right, this man was the top trader for Autumn Court, securing most if not all of their Seafood from the Summer Court. She had a feeling that Beron wanted to aim higher than a mere trader's son.

“That won’t be necessary. Your son is nowhere near the stature we are looking for, and neither is your family.” She tried, she really did, to keep her laughter to herself, but gods, was it hard. Instead what managed to slip past her lips was something between a gasp and a cough, resulting in Eris roughly squeezing her arm in warning.

“My lord, I didn’t mean to insult,”

“But you did. That will be all gentlemen.” There was no more room for the other men to talk with Eris’s closing statement. Bowing deep at the waist, the men left, mumbling incoherently to each other as they nearly ran from her brother's sight.

“Over my dead body are you marrying a man that smells like fish.” Eris grumbled as they continued their trek to the dining hall.

Finn, Neels and Damon had already arrived and taken their informally assigned seats next to each other on the left side of the table. Eris went to claim his seat next to Neels, the closest to their father who sat at the head. Their mother’s seat was opposite of Eris on Beron’s other side, where she sat quietly until called upon, which was rarely ever. Lucien and Aliath had yet to make themselves known, but she assumed they’d be here soon enough. Walking to the table, Freya took her spot at the very end of the right side of the table, diagonal from Finn. Johan’s seat was in front of hers, but it was left empty most of the year, leaving her sat at the end of the table. Isolated.

“Sister,” He said in a way that could only be described as a sneer. Freya bowed her head out of respect for her older brother, keeping her eyes off of his until he chose to regard her for a second time.

“Look at you, little lamb. You know your manners.” Neels chuckled from beside him as he watched the exchange.

“Speak.” He demanded.

“Thank you, brother.” They were grown ass men, why did they derive such pleasure from making her humiliate herself?

“Am I going deaf or did I just hear our dearest sister thank Finnagan?” Aliath said by way of greeting as he flung open the double doors to the hall, Lucien hot on his heels.

“She was practicing her manners.”

“Oh? And what of your manners Finny? I haven’t seen them in well over fifty years.”

“You haven’t even been alive that long.”

Aliath shrugged, “I rest my case.”

Freya looked up at Lucien as he pulled his seat from the table to perch next to her, and the look he gave her said that he had no idea what their older brother was on about either. She looked down at her silverware before she accidentally let her face shift. It was silent after that, at least until Damon spoke.

“Do any of you have the slightest idea why father was so chipper today?” Freya nearly choked. Her father? Chipper? No.

“Chipper? Not sure if that’s the word I’d use for it. More like predatory satisfaction.” Aliath said. He sure loved to hear himself talk.

“Predatory indeed,” Eris scoffed.

“He’s been bragging about ‘it’ all day. I sat in on the war council meeting earlier and he seemed about ready to hold a feast.”

“It. What’s ‘it’?” Lucien asked. Damon cut him a glare.

“Do you think I’d be calling it, ‘it’ if I fucking knew what it was?” Lucien’s mouth snapped shut, Neels snickered.

“I suppose we’ll find out to-,” The booming sound of the double doors crashing yet again cut one of the siblings off, and none of them had to turn around to figure out who it was.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

Beron stalked silently across the hall, Odessa following quietly behind him. He wore his official clothes and his crown of fire sat proudly atop his head. An occasion indeed for their father to be dressed to the nines for a simple family dinner. But Damon had been right, Beron was positively thrilled as he took his seat at the head of the table. He didn’t greet his children before snapping his fingers to make their feast appear on the table. Lamb and steak were the meats for the night, followed with glorious side dishes. Gravy, potatoes, stew, vegetables, fruits, cheeses, and tons of new, fancy looking foods that Freya had never seen before.

And she could eat next to none of it.

Beron clapped his hands once more and Freya and Odessa’s meager plates appeared in front of them. A small portion of vegetables next to a few pieces of the lamb, and a full cup of wine.

“I’ve never seen this kind of meat before, father. Where on earth did you acquire it from?” Aliath asked as he looked at something that appeared to be some sort of winged animal...with...legs?

“Cornelious, my boy.” Eris’ eyes shot up at the term of endearment from Beron, directed at Aliath no less, who was an embarrassment to the family that their father made a point to ignore.

“The High Lord of Spring?” Damon questioned, suddenly interested in the topic of conversation. Freya looked down the table towards her mother to see what she might gauge of all this. Unsurprisingly, her face was blank, eyes cast down onto her plate as she picked at it pathetically.

“Indeed.” He refused to go on but looked down the table like he was itching for someone to ask him another question about his oh-so-fancy meats and who exactly had given them to him. A spoiled little boy, that’s what her father was.

“And why, exactly, is Cornelious giving you expensive Spring dishes? Don’t tell me it’s out of the goodness of that bastard’s heart.” Neels was the one who decided to humor the man.

Beron smiled, a terrifying thing that held nothing but the promise of pain, and looked to his daughter. It was too knowing, too unkind to be something that would make her happy.

“I’d be careful how you speak of your in-laws, Neels.”

Freya was incredibly thankful that there wasn’t much in her stomach at that moment, because she truly thought she might throw it up all over their expensive table.

“What?” Eris said, struck dumb by the words that left his mouth. All eyes were frantically moving between where Freya sat, shaking, and Beron at the head of the table. Freya’s mind was reeling. Which brother? Tamlin? Gods, she hoped so. Please let it be that absolute angel of a boy. Donivan, potentially, but he was the middle son and held no standing. That only left…

She felt Lucien’s hand grab hers under the table, a tether to reality that she so desperately needed. In the few seconds she had dove into her own mind, the table had erupted into chaos. Eris and Aliath were shouting, actually shouting at Beron. Damon, like the saint he was, was trying to diffuse the situation. Odessa was silently crying, and for once in their lives, Neels and Finn didn’t know what to do.

“...to that monster. How could you!” Ali yelled, pointing an accusatory finger in Berons face. He called for the guards outside the door, snarling something to the boy about a promised beating later. She wanted to leave again and escape into her mind, but the clamor of dishes being thrown and the loud voices made it hard. Aliath and Eris were both dragged from the room by the guards, and when the doors slammed shut so did everyone's mouths.

“Do any of you other impudent fuck-ups have anything else to say on your dear sister’s behalf?” Beron roared. A vein popped from his forehead, his usually tan-white face the color of the leaves that littered her home.

Her home.

Her.

“Please, no,” She whimpered. The reality of it all came crashing down on her.

He would be here to see her before securing the match, and they would travel between Spring and Autumn until the wedding. The months would turn into weeks, then days, then hours before she left. Before she became a wife. Before she became her mother.

“Not a word from you. Not a fucking word.” Freya flinched and squeezed Lucien’s hand till his skin ran pale. He did not wince. For once in their godforsaken lives, Neels and Finn sat quietly, and neither would meet her eye.

Cowards. All of them were fucking cowards.

But so was she.

So who was she to judge?

“May I ask who?” Freya said after what could have been hours of silence. Beron quirked an eyebrow and looked ready to strike her down, but she asked again.

“Which brother will I be wed to?”

“Cornelious’ heir, you stupid little thing. Kane. Kane Ambrose.”

Fuck.

[readychilledwine]

Lollipop

Azriel x innocent Vanserra OC

Summary - after being silenced during the High Lord's meeting with her favorite candy. Seraphina finds herself the center of a certain shadowsingers attention

Warnings - implied smut, implied corruption kink, Beron being Beron (so mentions/signs of abuse), implied swapping, Nesta implying she'd go down on OC, age gap, messing with canon a little bit

A/N -I got bored and the whole corruption kink side of me came out. I also think I'm developing a Nesta kink, and it's probably going to get pretty smutty between her and an oc or reader here soon.... oooo or the valkyries x reader.... might have to do something for my girlies who love other girlies...

Part 2

Azriel was going to fucking faint.

Beron, in an effort to stop his daughter from continuing to egg on the Princess of the Summer court, had pulled out some form of an candy on a stick and put it in her mouth much to the laughter and delight of everyone around.

Now all the shadowsinger could do was watch out of the corners of his eyes as his mate sucked and licked on the candy innocently while reading the book Eris had brought for her.

Doing okay there, brother? Rhysand's purr in his mind before the High Lord looked over at the daughter of Autumn had Azriel suppressing a growl. Well, doesn't little Seraphina just look so pretty with her lips wrapped around something. 

Azriel shot him a glare before peeking over again. She had the candy so just the tip of it was in her mouth, lips wrapped perfectly around it. Cauldron fucking boil me. Rhysand sent him a wave of agreement as Feyre also looked over and smirked.

Feyre thinks the 3 of us should take her, and oh fuck-

Azriel and Rhys quickly snapped their eyes back to the meeting when the daughter of Autumn looked their way before looking at her older brother and tapping his shoulder.

Her breasts were on display, small hands delicating holding the stick of the candy as she leaned forward in the exquisite dress she was in to whisper in her older brother's ear.

The male heir of Autumn looked over to the Night Court glaring at the shadowsinger and the high lord. He growled softly before taking the candy from a clearly uncomfortable female.

"Excuse my interruption," Tamlin stopped talking as soon as Eris spoke and demanded the attention of the room, "Do you have something you'd like to say to my sister, Spymaster? You've been staring at her for the past 10 minutes." 

The room had gone silent. Tamlin leaned forward with a smirk, as did Tarquin and Thesan. The daughter of Autumn was an unspoken set boundary. No one looked at or touched Beron's girl, not even Amarantha. Too much power radiated in that small body. Power anyone would have given Beron their left arm to have access to. They just had to follow his rules to get the chance to play for her hand, and right now, Azriel's silence was risking his own family's shot at it.

Might want to say something there, brother. Az shot Rhysand a glare before clearing his throat and saying the one thing he knew he shouldn't. 

"How can I not stare at such a beautiful creature? Especially when your father so willing put something in her mouth for the entertainment of every male here?" Rhys froze and immediately sent a look Azriel's way. 

That wasn't what I had in mind. Being her mate does not promise you her hand, Az. Beron could sell her off before Eris gets the chance to bring her to us. Tread carefully. 

Beron laughed darkly before turning to the Night Court, "I didn't realize silencing my 55 year old daughter with candy would be such a problem for you, Azriel. No one else here seems to think anything of it. Must just be that Illyrian Bastard blood in you." The reminder of her young age was a slap in the face to the shadowsinger. A reminder that she hardly understood the world yet and that she had spent the majority of her life trapped in that mountain.

Azriel caught the way Seraphina's eyes shut slowly at her father's insults, "It's not a big deal, daddy. I-." Her father held a hand up to silence her. No one missed the flinch from the young girl. Helion, Azriel, Cassian, and Rhys all looked towards each other.

Helion was now staring at the young female too, his eyes softening at her fear. Beron glared at Helion before continuing, "If you continue to look at my daughter, you'll find yourself wingless, boy." 

Sera even knew that was too far. Azriel watched the way her chest stilled as she stared wide eyed at her father before switching her gaze to Helion who shook his head softly at her in warning. 

Rhysand growled this time, "Do not threaten MY family over your choice not to educate your daughter on sexual matters."

Sera was confused. How was a caramel apple sucker sexual? She made eye contact with the Spring lord, who simply motioned for her to come over to him, and she did. 

She walked in a way that reminded Azriel of water. Flowing, smooth, gently. He barely suppressed the growl in his throat as Tamlin pulled the girl into his lap, his mouth close to her delicately pointed and jewel adorned ear. 

The room filled with laughter as her eyes grew wide and a red flush hit her chest and cheeks. "Really," she whispered softly to Tamlin, who nodded and then continued whispering in her ear. Soft nodding came from her as Tamlin stroked her upper thigh and whispered to her, eyes locked on Azriel in a clear message. He knew. He could somehow sense the bond. "What's a," Tamlin covered her mouth, laughing slightly as he explained something else to her. "So people don't use the proper terms during sex?" Tamlin was smirking at this point. Whatever he had just said made the young girl gasp, and her eyes go wide.

Beron growled this time and tried to break the field of neutrality in anger but couldn't. "Enough, Tamlin!" Seraphina shifted in Tamlin's lap after he finished speaking to her. She stood and walked back over to the Autumn Court in shock and embarrassment.

"I apologize for the distraction, Shadowsinger. Forgive me," she began playing with her long red curls as Azriel scented her anxiety. "Thank you for the…. Educational lesson, high lord." The daughter of Autumn sat back down slowly and made a fatal error. Her and Nesta Archeron made eye contact and the oldest Cauldron made said one simple thing.

"In case he didn't tell you because he's a selfish male, there's males out there who'd return that favor. And females, if youd be interested in that." The daughter of Autumn grew more red and opened her book to hide her face in the crisp pages, "If you'd like to learn, let me know." 

An audible squeak came from the young fae female, "Eris." She was desperate for help. Her brother shot a look Nesta's way, and she returned it with a hate fueled glare.

Tamlin had painted a mental image for her in pretty words chosen specifically to make the young female feel warm. Truly though, She didn't mind the idea. The thought of her on her knees as Azriel tangled his large scarred hands through her long red curls, tongue running along his cock as he made a mess of her made her feel warmth growing in her stomach she'd never felt before.

She had heard rumors from other females about the size of an Illyrian's wings having something to do with the size of their cock, and Seraphina was just trying to imagine how exactly that would work if rumors were true. How exactly would she fit all of him into her mouth if given a chance? The handsome spymaster had huge wings. The largest wings she'd ever seen on a winged fae. If wing size related to endowment size, his cock was huge. And if Nesta was involved?  Cauldron boil her. Would Cassian also be involved? 

A hand gently clawed at her mind, causing her to freeze. It wasn't trying to get in her head. It was already there. Her honey eyes met violet ones as Rhysand leaned back in his chair and sipped his wine.

No, love, keep going. I was enjoying the delicious thoughts you were having. My brothers and I love sharing our toys. You could have Cassian and Nesta, myself and Feyre- His voice was purr that made her shiver with chills as she slammed him back out and watched as he looked at Azriel. 

The winged male's only response was one side of his mouth twitching into a smile before he became unreadable again. 

"Now that Seraphina has been educated on some of the finer matters of life, can we continue?" Kal asked coldly as he leaned back into his chair.

Eris discretely handed his sister back her candy. He shot her one look that said, "Be good," before focusing solely on Tamlin and Rhysand restarting their lovers spat.

Seraphina made eye contact with Azriel again as she slowly put the sucker back in her mouth. Azriel pulled his lower lip into his mouth and tugged the mating bond, praying Rhysand had been right when he said he had found it in her mind, but the female just didn't know what it was. Another way to keep her in the dark and innocent, Azriel thought bitterly.

She made a confused face as she looked down at her chest. Then followed the string to Azriel, lollipop now back in the same trapped position of her lips, If you continue looking at me like that with those pretty lips wrapped around that thing, I am not responsible for what happens next little bunny.

Is what Nesta said true? Azriel felt his leathers growing tight at her curious nature. He could feel desire radiating in their bond. 

Of course. Only, I eat pussy for my pleasure, not yours. And I will eat pussy because I want to. Not because you've wrapped your pretty little mouth on my cock. He had her. He felt her arousal spike as she shifted. I imagine you'll also be the type who sucks cock for your pleasure instead of mine, little mate.

I'd like to learn. He almost came right then and there as he watched her put the candy in her mouth, eyes wide like a doe.

Keep doing that, baby, and I'll be stealing you to teach you much, much more than just whatever bullshit Tamlin told you. Fucking ruin you for anyone else.

Seraphina turned her attention back to the book she had with a small smile, I'm doing emissary work in the Dawn Court all week this week. I'll be alone tonight.

I'll find you.

I look forward to it. 

[prythianpages]

Give 'Em Hell | Part One

beron's daughter OC x eventually Azriel

Masterlist

Summary: Beron is celebrating his son's first name day when he learns about a threat to his desired line of succession. His true firstborn.

Warnings: mentions of child loss

A/N: This is the villain origin story of Beron's daughter. I plan for this to be a short series but I also don't really have this planned out well like my other series lol, I'm kind of just going with vibes for this one. After listening to The Buttress's 'Brutus' this came to mind so it will be inspired by Julius Caesar's story and revolve mainly around Saoirse and Eris, who are siblings. Azriel will join later on in the series as the first 2-3 parts will focus on reader and the Vanserras.

In the heart of the Autumn Court’s grand palace, the air hummed with vibrant festivities. It was a day of great joy, a celebration for the name day of the High Lord’s firstborn son and heir. The halls were adorned with tapestries of blazing amber and crimson leaves, their intricate designs catching the radiance of the fiery torches that lined the corridor.

Flickering candles and enchanting crystal orbs dangled from the vaulted ceilings, casting a warm, golden glow upon the gathering below. The joyful chatter of courtiers and nobles mingled with the melodic tunes of minstrels performing lively songs. Excitement surged through the crowd as they anticipated the official naming of the new prince, the air crackling with a promise of a prosperous future for the court and its people.

The grand doors opened and the High Lord of Autumn, Beron Vanserra, was the first to emerge. His wife and Lady of the Autumn Court, Aurelia, followed behind him. In her arm, was the autumn court’s new bundle of joy. A beautiful and healthy baby boy with hair as red as hers and amber eyes as bright and earthly as hers.

As they walked forward, the crowd dispersed, bowing their heads in respect. They curiously sneaked a peak at the boy, filled with anxious excitement to catch a glimpse. Lady Aurelia tightened her hold on her babe protectively. It had been a year since the announcement of his arrival and she had feared losing this babe as she had with her first. Her firstborn had befallen to a strange illness and she sadly did not survive past her first week into the world.

But this time, things were different. The child was born a male and healthy. He was fiercely monitored and protected. The securing of an heir to a High Lord of Prythian was one of great matters.

High Lord Beron sat himself on the throne, his dark brown eyes cold and fierce as Lady Aurelia stood beside him, her amber eyes were timid and wary. They were husband and wife but not equals. Never equals.

“I give thanks to all.” Beron’s voice was deep and powerful, echoing throughout the grand hall. “For gathering to celebrate my first born son. My heir. Eris.”

“Eris,” a murmur swept through the crowd like a breeze, the name mingling with the crackling excitement of the gathered court.

With a graceful motion of his hand, the lively melody swelled, encouraging some to sway and twirl to the music. High Lord Beron gestured for his son and Lady Aurelia hesitantly passed the small child into his arms.  He placed Eris on his lap, embracing the young heir, and together they observed the vibrant dance of the Autumn court from his throne.

A cloaked figure approached the throne, bowing his head as he reached the foot of the steps.

“Soothsayer.” High Lord Beron acknowledged with a solemn nod, allowing the figure to rise back up. He never bothered to learn his name, despite the Soothsayer being a part of his court for decades. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I’ve come to enlighten you, my lord.” The Soothsayer replied, his voice possessing an air of icy calm. Lady Aurelia, who remained by her husband’s side, tensed.

High Lord Beron’s brow furrowed, a scowl etched onto his face. He did not believe in prophecies. They were nothing but nonsense to him. But something in him prodded him to entertain the man’s presence. The Soothsayer had, afterall, predicted the accurate arrival of his son.

The Soothsayer’s gaze fixed upon the child on his High Lord’s lap and a smile graced his face. “Eris shall grow to wield unparalleled strength.”

Beron gave a disgruntled hum, finding little amusement in the Soothsayer’s words. The notion that his son would grow strong seemed more a matter of course than a profound prophecy. Eris, as the heir to the Autumn Court, was destined for greatness. 

The Soothsayer’s demeanor shifted dramatically. His eyes rolled back, their irises disappearing into a haunting white void as he surrendered to the profundity of the prophecy. 

“The Vanserra line will be fruitful and flourishing as Autumn’s greatest harvest, for they are born with the greatest fire in their veins. But it will not last. Not all will thrive as some will die. Two will soon become three until there are finally eight but one will not be true to you and only one shall come to be. It is the one that possesses the phoenix's heart that the Mother will favor. She shall reign, the true firstborn.”

Beron’s eyes widened for a faltering moment before he rose sharply to his feet, handing the child that had begun to grow restless back to his wife. His gaze blazed with fury, taking the Soothsayer’s words as a threat. Tendrils of flame escaped from his finger tips, rushing to wrap around the Soothsayer’s neck to silence him.

But the Soothsayer did not falter, despite the burning ring around his neck.

“She will emerge from the ashes that aim to entomb her, ever lingering near. A course that cannot be averted. Beware… the ides of March.”

Beron’s eyes continued to rage, the fire in them burning ardently, as the fire around the Soothsayer’s neck tightened. It tightened and tightened, suffocating the male and burned through his flesh. He didn’t stop until the Soothsayer’s head dropped to the floor in a sickening thump, his body following along shortly.

Lady Aurelia let out a cry in shock, her hand flying to her son’s head, shielding him from the grotesque scene. The couples that had been dancing and swaying to the music came to an abrupt halt, eyes widening at the dead body before the throne to the Autumn Court but the music continued to play.

High Lord Beron finally peeled his heated gaze from the dead male, eyes darting around the room. “Did I say to stop?”

Not wanting to meet the Soothsayer’s fate, the crowd began to dance again, compelled by fear. Beron then turned to his guards as the Soothsayer’s words repeated themselves in his head and sunk in, bringing forth a familiar ache in his chest. One he had thought he had destroyed years ago.

His mind was consumed by memories from his past as he gave hushed and urgent orders to his most trusted men. 

For the rest of the night, the High Lord of the Autumn court maintained a scowl and an air of fierce composure. The flames that danced restlessly from his fingertips betrayed the inner turmoil he harbored. He did not rest, until days later, when his men finally returned.

High Lord Beron was sharing a quiet breakfast with his wife and son when he turned to address his men.  “Is it done?”

“Yes, my High Lord.” One of his men replied with a bow. The men behind followed.  “Not a single survivor left.”

Beron’s lips curled into a wicked smirk that sent chills up Lady Aurerlia’s spine while little Eris shifted in her lap.

“Good.”

**

Grief is the price one pays for love. It’s more than missing someone. It’s an overwhelming sensation, one that often takes a piece of you with it, leaving one with a gaping hole in their chest.

 It starts with denial, you pretend that the loss is not real until the pain that it carries becomes too much and anger floods in. The “what ifs” and “if only” nearly drown you as you bargain, wanting to postpone the sadness, the confusion. And then it’s peaceful in the deep and quiet depression. The arms of the ocean of grief’s depression carry you in until acceptance comes along like a bittersweet lullaby with a small sliver of hope–a life ring that may pull you out of grief’s cold depths.

But Saoirse’s mother never reached the final stage.

Instead, her mother slowly disappeared into the unrelenting depressing grip of grief. The depths of it were so deep no hand or life ring could reach. All for love.

Saoirse vowed to never fall in love. How could she when it was love that drove her mother so mad she lost her sanity?

Saoirse shuffled through the vast meadow. It was a canvas of autumnal hues, serene and enchanting, resplendent with vibrant flowers. Golden, russet and crimson blossoms swayed gently in the breeze, their petals swirling among the tall, amber grasses. Sunlight dappled through the tree branches, casting a warm golden glow. She picked out the prettiest of the flowers, making sure to grab her mother’s favorites–red chrysanthemums–before carefully wrapping them into a beautiful bouquet held together with a thin cloth and ivory ribbon.

When Saoirse entered the comforts of her small, humble home, she was greeted with the enticing scent of apple and cinnamon and the warmth of the roaring fireplace in the living space. She found her mother sitting in a rocking chair close to the fireplace, facing the window. A blanket had been gently draped over her lap, her fingers fidgeting over the warm fabric.

“Happy birthday, mother.” Saoirse greeted with a faint, fragile smile.

She approached her mother, placing a soft kiss on her forehead and the bouquet of flowers in her lap. Her mother’s shaky fingers clung onto the bouquet but her green eyes were distant.

“You took my heart when you left. Without your sweet kiss, my soul is lost…”

Saoirse’s smile fell and she felt her heart ache. She hated seeing her mother like this.

“She’s been like this all day.” A weathered voice chimed in solemnly.

“My city’s in ruins.”

Saoirse turned, her gaze landing on her sweet grandmother. The woman who had sacrificed everything to run to her daughter’s aid all those years ago. The woman who rose shortly after her high status fell, working hard to provide for her and her daughter. The woman, who when she found out her daughter was pregnant, delicately took care of her, raising Saoirse as if she were her own. Her eyes, usually warm and sweet, were green pools of sympathy as Saoirse’s mother’s voice faded into the background.

“Come on, rise up. Come on, rise up.”

“Dinner’s almost ready.” Her grandmother said, inkling her head toward the kitchen. “I made apple pie for dessert.”

**

They ate dinner in silence. With the help of her grandmother, Saoirse had guided her mother to the small dining table, just big enough for the three of them. Her mother continued to sing, green eyes still vacant as she was tormented by her memories. She had fallen into another bad episode, where the memories ran through an endless loop in her head. The song falling from her lips was her only solace.

“My city’s in ruins.”

Silver lined Saoirse’s eyes, making her dark brown eyes glisten. Eyes that she unfortunately inherited from her father, if she could even call him that. She was grateful it was the only trait they shared.

Saoirse hated the male that helped bring her to this cruel world with a burning passion. Everything was his fault. Why her sweet grandmother’s hands were calloused, roughened by the hard labor she was forced into. Why her mother was drowning in her depressive, almost vegetative state, refusing to heal from all the damage that had been done. All the damage he had done.

Saoirse had also fallen victim to the torturous depths of grief, mourning the loss of the mother she never got to know. Similar to her mother, she found herself stuck but it was not grief's depression that suffocated her. It was the ardent flames of anger. They ran so deep they flooded her veins, igniting her with a terrifying desire to burn everything to the ground.

“Sersh.”

Saoirse snapped out of her thoughts, eyes finding her grandmother, who glanced down at the table. “Shit, sorry.” She muttered.

 “Come on, rise up. Come on, rise up.”

As she drew back her heated hands, a shiver of discomfort ran through her. The scent of singed wood tickled her nostrils and the once pristine table bore the mark of her growing abilities, its surface marred by a thin layer of char.  Her grandmother’s soft chuckle met an abrupt halt. 

Their heads swiveled to Saoirse’s mother, whose voice had ceased mid-song. With a shared look of concern, both Saoirse and her grandmother called out to her simultaneously. 

“Margot?”

“Mother?”

Silence hung in the air after Saoirse’s call to her mother was met with no response. Her mother, Margot, remained wordless. Her emerald eyes widening in sheer disbelief and lips pressed into a taut line. She appeared as though she had seen a ghost.

The silence was suddenly interrupted by a blood-curdling scream. A scream that did not originate from within the house, a scream that elicited a tumult of more anguished sounds, echoing chaos.

Saoirse leaped to her feet in a panicked rush, rushing out the door in urgency. Her eyes scanned the landscape of their small village, her eyes widening with dread at the horrifying sight that unfolded before her.

The village, the place she had called home all her life, was engulfed in an all-consuming blaze, flames licking at everything in sight. More screams sent her heart racing. She didn’t know what to do, where to go, who to help first.

She found her neighbor, who desperately carried a bucket of water, and ran to him. “What is going on?”

“I don’t know.” He answered, his voice frantic. “They say it’s a wildfire from the drought but it started in the granaries. Get your grandmother and mother and run.”

Saoirse nodded as she turned around in haste, making her way back to her home. The flames danced freely in the village, their fierce, unwavering embrace swallowing everything in their path. The once-charming cottages, adorned with vibrant fall flower boxes, now stood cloaked in orange and red. She held her hands up toward the flames, beckoning her powers to ignite. Perhaps, she could manipulate the flames to turn away from the village.

Nothing happened and it was then that a terrifying realization dawned on her. This was no ordinary fire. It was fire sparked from magic. Saoirse willed her legs to run faster as plumes of smoke twisted upward, smudging the sky with a toxic charcoal hue.

The air grew thick with the smoke and somber chorus of crackling flames. Villagers, gripped by fear and despair, dashed frantically. Like her neighbor, they hauled buckets of water in a futile attempt to quell the unrelenting blaze.

She was almost home when she heard a sudden and loud sequence of snapping. A massive tree limb plunged directly in her path, sending her stumbling and crashing into the fallen leaves below. Panic surged as a terrified scream escaped from her lips, watching in horror as the tree she once climbed as a child splintered and fractured. It’s trunk plummeted, crashing over her house with a resounding, earth-shaking roar.

“Nana!” She cried, crawling to her burning house.

The smoke burned her lungs as she rose to her feet. She hurried to the door of her house but there was fire everywhere, keeping her from entering. Her hands extended once more, a desperate attempt to summon her powers. She could feel a trickle of blood run down from her nose at the exertion. Nothing.

With another desperate cry, she kicked at the door, not caring if the flames engulfed her. “Nana!”

She could hear the faint sound of coughing. “Saoirse!”

“Nana,” she almost cried in relief but no matter how much she kicked and threw herself against the door, it would not budge.

“It’s alright, my sweet Sersh.”

Tears welled up in her eyes. No. She refused to accept this.

“No, it’s not! I need to get you two out of there.”

She continued to kick and scratch at the door desperately. Blood trickled from her hands. "Please," she begged. To the Cauldron, to the Mother. Anyone. "Please."

But there was no answer. Only silence. A deathly stillness that enveloped around her, choking her just as the flames threatened to.

Her shoulders slumped and she collapsed against the door. Her vision blurred from all the smoke and tears. The fire’s glowing fingers reached out hungrily as it continued to sear over. More trees collapsed. The once tranquil village was now a chaotic scene of devastation. Saoirse let her eyes close as she gave up. Broken sobs wracked her body. 

She wanted the flames to swallow her whole.

**

Saoirse did not know how much time had passed but the sounds of the roaring fire gradually came to stop. She sharply sucked in a breath, regretting it as it burned her lungs and brought her into a coughing fit.  She had curled into herself and was no longer leaning against the door to her home.

When Saoirse finally opened her eyes, she realized it was because there was no longer a door. There was no longer a home. She was met with the devastated landscape of the village. Her home, it now held only desolation.

She was the only living body among the piles of ashes and splintered bones. They covered the ground like a blanket, a silent witness to the fire’s destruction. Her clothes had burnt off, leaving her skin to be tainted by the stains of ash and smoke. Tears were caked onto her face.

Despite the intense heat that had engulfed her entire village and burned through her clothes, she remained unscratched…untouched by the flames that ravaged everything around her ruthlessly.

The flames had flickered in a strange familiarity. This was no wildfire as she had confirmed earlier. This fire had burned and blazed through the village with a purpose. To destroy her.

She knew her existence would not be a welcomed one. It had never been a matter of if but when. This could not be a coincidence, not when the High Lord’s son recently celebrated his first name day and was christened as Autumn’s heir…

Her father had found her. This fire was meant for her, to burn her alive and silence her forever. But she did not burn. The fire inside her blazed brighter than the inferno that had been sent to her.

All she had wanted was to live her life in secrecy and peace with her grandmother and mother at her side but now...

The two people she cared and loved the most were dead, taken from her. She lost everything...because of him.

She felt a heat surge through her body. Her skin, her veins, her bones. A spark of light burst forth from her chest, right where her roaring heart was. There was a tiny, defiant glow there. A stark contrast amid the gray surroundings.  

Come on, rise up, the spark beckoned her and then her legs were moving before she could process the command.

She emerged from the ashes, standing tall amidst the lingering smoke. Her mouth held the taste of sorrow, intertwined with the metallic tang of blood. Her once dark brown eyes now burned a vibrant gold, flickering with an inner flame.

From the glowing ember within her chest, wisps of fire snaked out, coiling around her shoulders and forming fiery wings, a vivid and brilliant display of life and rebirth. Each beat of them stirred the ashes around her in a magical whirlwind. 

She was a phoenix, a breathtaking manifestation of flame and ash, and she was burning with an insatiable thirst for revenge. 

A/N: the song reader's mother was singing was my city of ruins by bruce springsteen. I picked it bc I really liked the lyrics and while it's a worship song, I did find it was fitting to her mother's and beron's story. Adult Eris along with Lucien and the other brothers will make appearances in the next parts.

[acotarlibrary]

Title: Spirit Meets the Bones

Author: @moononastring

Rating: Mature

Main Pairing: Eris Vanserra/Original Female Character [Background Elain Archeron/Lucien Vanserra]

Tags/Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Arranged Marriage, Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, idiots to lovers, Eris Vanserra x OC, Eris and Iris, Eiris, Eris Vanserra x Original Character, Eris Vanserra Redemption, POV Eris Vanserra, Elucien - Freeform, Beron Vanserra - Freeform, Lady Vanserra - Freeform, Eris Vanserra - Freeform, Forced Marriage, Angst, Eventual Smut

Summary: How’s one to know? I’d meet you where the spirit meets the bones In a faith forgotten land In from the snow Your touch brought forth an incandescent glow Tarnished but so grand - Son of a high lord. Daughter of a fiend. The spirit to his aching bones. The foundation to make her spirits soar. 

Where the Spirit Meets the Bones.

***TRIGGER WARNING *** There is mention of physical abuse.

Word Count: 101,210

Status: In Progress

[littlest-w01f]

Little Family

Cassian x Single mom!OC (Luna Kaldor)

CASSIAN MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: When Cassian comes to pick Feyre up from her work, he sees a new girl with her, a girl who sits to herself silently and doesn't talk to any other children, his whole world shifts on its axis when the girl's mother walks in to take her home

Cw: None My fairly new writing

part one - part two - part three - part four

The Starfall was a month away, a year after the inner circle, with the help of Eris Vanserra had the upper hand to defeat Beron when he came to take their territories. But when there is a battle, there is loss, and the city of Velaris lost many lives when the Autumn army attacked the city's people.

One of those lives lost left Luna Kaldor to fend for herself and her child, she was quite thankful to her High Lady and new friend, Feyre Archeron, who had opened up her studio free of charge for every faeling to help them deal with their trauma and loss with the help of art.

Nova didn't like her class, she was the only new kid in weeks, and everyone there already had their friends. She knew she was different from the rest from the way, Feyre, her teacher's eyes had widened seeing her, not just her, but the fae tips of her ears paired with the Illyrian wings on her back.

Nova had felt different during classes in Velaris, but her mother had never let her feel bad about them. She was different from the High Fae, just as lesser Fae were different too.

Now after her father's death, her mother didn't have enough money to keep sending her to classes, or much money at all with how the male in their family had been the breadwinner, while he had Luna stay home to take care of their daughter.

It had taken them months to get into the routine that had now, Luna worked multiple jobs and while she worked, Nova would be in her art teacher's studio.

Nova looked at the mess of paint she had created on the blank canvas, a mess, it looked like a mess, she was a mess.

She knew her father's death had hit her mother hard too, but not in the way of how you would feel if you lost love, but support.

All little Nova knew, was that her parents had the most romantic life, her father, a High Fae, had saved her mother, a female he fell in love with, an Illyrian who was thrown away after having her wings ripped out.

But after a hundred years of marriage, their love had died out, especially after their daughter was born, not because she was a female but because she was born with large Illyrian wings, wings larger than Illyrian children usually had.

Nova frowned slightly, watching the children hang out when each other while she sat by herself, her teacher joining her out of what she asumed, was pity, she felt slightly sad for her High Lady, her teacher who would try to talk to her, hoping she would talk back. Feyre asked her about what she was making, and why she chose the colours she did. Nova only gave a short reply, because she did not know the answer to the questions herself. All Nova knew was that it was a mess of colours.

Cassian had got himself one of Feyre's favourite pastries as he reached closer to the rainbow, he had wanted to pick her up from her class after the day's end, he entered her studio, smiled at the few kids whose parents were yet to pick them up and then pulled his best friend into a bear hug.

"Feyre!" Cassian chuckled, spinning his High Lady around. The fae children had their eyes wide at the Illyrian male with wings tucked in tight who stood in the middle of the studio. Nova gawked at the male, at those wings, wings like hers, and Cassian instantly noticed the girl too, no older than 6 years.

The wings were what drew them both to grow curious about each other, Feyre looked between her friend and her student, and a smirk formed on her face, the smirk of a matchmaker.

"That's Nova, a new student, just started two months ago." Feyre told Cassian, "Her mother officially made her a perminent student a month ago."

Cassian looked at the girl, his eyes noticing the Fae tips of her ears, "She's a halfblood." A statement, not a question, something easily seen.

"Why didn't you tell Rhysand about her?" Cassian asked her.

Feyre blushed suddenly, "I didn't think of it...?" She offered sheepishly while smiling at a couple parents who picked up the last of her students.

"Her mother will pick her up soon, we need to stay till she shows up, I have to talk to her." Feyre sat down, in a strategic way that made Nova and Cassian sit close, opposite each other, her eyes on the door, waiting for Luna to show up, she could talk about inviting her to a family dinner, introduce her friend and her daughter to her family.

Luna entered almost instantly, Nova smiled at her mother and rushed into her arms, "Mommy!" She cheered, her wings fluttering happily.

Feyre watched, holding a breath in as Cassian spun to look at Luna, his breath got caught in his throat as he watched the mother and daughter embrace, the female, she was who he had been looking for all his life, a thread of gold attached itself to him, reaching out to her, the snap almost instantly.

Luna looked up from her daughter to her friend, her eyes caught the Illyrian male, Cassian, whom she knew from his signature red siphons. Cassian gave her a soft smile and her knees nearly buckled at the bond that connected to her.

{Cassian Taglist: @novalovi}

[prythianpages]

Give 'Em Hell | Part Two

beron's daughter OC x eventually Azriel | Beron Vanserra is a man with many sinful secrets but there is one that desires to punish him. His daughter. His true firstborn and heir to the Autumn Court.

Masterlist

Chapter Summary: Some of the country folk of Autumn are protesting Beron's rule and there is talk of rebellion. The Phoenix. And Beron begins to wonder if the enemy is among his inner circle.

Warnings: bullying, violence, harsh insults thrown oc's way/ brief mentions of sexual assault (groping)

A/N: I'm so sorry this took me forever to update. This has been in my drafts since November omg. I got this idea/motivation to write this at a time where I was at the peak of my female rage lol and now things in my life are better. However, I did always want to write a character who is "evil." Using quotation marks because that's still up to be decided on. For this OC, I'm drawing huge inspiration from Game of Thrones, especially with Daenary's character. Also, I know that birth order does not dictate who inherits the title High Lord but in this fic and probs in canon too, Beron hates the idea of Autumn having a High Lady.

Sometimes memories are the worst form of torture. 

Deaths, heartbreaks and traumatic events may pass but the memory lives on, lingering like a haunting and tormenting spirit. The Pryalis family has been threatened to become a distant memory, torturing the remaining patriarch of what was once.

Once a strong and powerful big household, the Pryalis family was now reduced to just one. Edmund Pryalis. Or so he thought.

Among the wreckage of his beloved son’s home, remained a young female. She had been found, a couple of feet away from the house at the edge of the surrounding forest, with signs of struggle etched onto her pale body, bruised and scarred. She had been trembling and terrified when Edmund had approached her, demanding to know who she was and what had happened. He had not been prepared for the words that had broken off from her quivering lips.

She was his son’s bastard daughter. His bastard granddaughter.

Edmund had not questioned it. His son was known for being disloyal to his wife. It was inevitable to not sire a bastard child and if his son’s scandalous endeavors were not enough to convince him, the female strongly resembled his late wife and daughter with her sun-kissed auburn hair, high cheekbones and striking eyes. However, the color of her eyes were not the infamous emerald green the Pryalis family was known for but a chestnut brown instead.

If it weren’t for the deaths of his son and family, his heirs, he would’ve done Prythian a favor and rid it of one more bastard. But he didn’t. He refused to allow the Pryalis name to fade into memory and so now there were two.

“May their ashes rise and flames persist in eternity.”

The air carried the scent of damp earth as the leaves rustled with the wind, whispering their final farewells to the departed souls resting beneath. Edmund pulled his gaze from the tombstone below and to the young weeping female. He gestured for her to follow him and they silently made their way to the entrance of the cemetery, where a carriage awaited them.

As Edmund placed a foot on the carriage step, a sudden realization compelled him to pause. There was one more question he had yet to ask of his bastard granddaughter. “What is your name?”

“Emilia.” The female had replied.

And if Edmund had bothered to turn around, he would’ve caught the flames flickering in her eyes.

**

“Two will soon become three until there are finally eight but one will not be true to you and only one shall come to be.”

Beron found himself surrounded by the weight of the soothsayer’s prophecies, uttered nearly three centuries past, as he surveyed the grandeur of his Autumn Court's council chamber. There was more truth to the soothsayer’s words than he’d like to admit. To his left, his four eldest sons occupied their appointed seats, a testament to the continuation of his lineage. On his right, the key figures of his advisory council – chief advisor, spymaster, master of coin, and army commander – assumed their positions

His two younger sons were away, honing their skills in the art of war, preparing for a future fraught with uncertainties. And Lucien…

Well, Lucien was doing everything a High Lord’s son probably shouldn’t and Beron couldn’t bring himself to care for it at this moment. There were other pressing matters to attend to.

"Mistwood grows restless," Fenrik, the spymaster, began cautiously. "Whispers of an uprising persist, and while rumors can be as fleeting as the wind, this tale echoes persistently…”

Beron's piercing gaze bore into Fenrik, a silent command for the truth to be unveiled. 

“I am uncertain whether it is a person or a group but there's mention of a Phoenix. A harbinger of a brighter tomorrow. Faced with the specter of an impending famine, some villagers may be swayed to rebellion against our presence."

A tense silence falls upon the room as Fenrik’s words hang in the air like a foreboding mist. That is, until Eris, the heir to the Autumn Court, decides to break it.

“Perhaps, we should provide them with enough sustenance to quell their thirst to riot,” Eris suggests, his voice resonating with wisdom beyond his years. Beron should be proud but instead, his eyes narrow as he assesses the situation.

“Gain their trust so they remain loyal to you, High Lord,” Edmund, Beron’s chief advisor, agrees as he waves his hand, beckoning his cupbearer forward.

Eris’s eyes widen ever so slightly, lifting his gaze toward Edmund. It’s the first time the two have ever been in agreement. He then turns his head toward Edmund’s cupbearer, a spark of curiosity flashing in his amber eyes. 

As the cupbearer delicately pours a substance, presumably more potent than wine given its acrid scent, Eris can’t help but wonder why Edmund subjects his own granddaughter to a servant role when she is beyond the age of marriage. Granted, Emilia is a bastard. But still his blood nonetheless. His only blood.

Edmund brings his cup to his lips and takes a swig. He sputters almost immediately, throwing his chalice to the floor and drawing everyone’s attention to him. The dark crimson liquid splatters onto the floor, staining the soft fabric of his granddaughter's dress. Emilia shrinks back, fear flashing across her features as Edmund shifts toward her with a scowl.

“This is not what I asked of you!” He seethes with furrowed eyebrows. “I asked for the russet elixir, not this.”

 “I’m sorry, grandfather. I thought this was the russet elixir.”

Emilia drops her gaze, a frown tainting her soft features, as she presents the bottle of liquor to him. It is clearly labeled as crimson nectar. “You imbecile. Go back to your station,” Edmund orders hastily, no longer desiring a drink.

“Illiterate bastard,” Hunter mutters under his breath with a chuckle, elbowing Eris.

Eris does not humor his brother. Though his fingers tense around his own chalice, he maintains a stoic silence, his gaze following Emilia. She retreats to her designated place in the council chamber, head bowed low. Her silhouette merges seamlessly with the servants clustered around the table of refreshments.

“Let them starve.”

Eris’s gaze shifts back toward his father and he swears his heart skips a beat.

“But my High Lord–”

“I refuse to feed the mouths of potential traitors,” Beron interrupts his spymaster sharply yet his gaze is focused upon Eris, brown eyes shimmering with disappointment. “The seed for rebellion has already been planted. It does not matter if I send them sustenance or not, they may still revolt. I’ll turn the town of Mistwood into a lesson.”

Beron then rises to his feet, signaling that he will hear no more from his council for today. “Anyone who lends credence to this alleged Phoenix shall be branded as traitors and punished. No exceptions.”

Beron strides out of the room, the council trailing in his wake. Eris, however, lingers, reluctant to vacate his seat. He prods the inside of his cheek with his tongue, stomach filling with dread from the look Beron had given him before leaving. He sits there for what feels like an eternity but given the fact that some of his brothers remain, harassing Edmund’s poor granddaughter, it couldn’t have been for too long.

When Eris rises from his seat, he catches a glimpse of Oliver, his younger brother, trailing a hand a little too low down Emilia’s body. From where Eris stands, he could see Emilia’s every muscle tense under the unwanted touch and harsh words whispered into her ear. Yet, Emilia remains quiet, her gaze fixed forward, even as Oliver finally frees her of his torment. 

Silver lines her dull brown eyes and Eris can’t help but pity the female. He knows the look on her face all too well. It's a reflection of the emotions he often carries within himself. Hatred. Fear. Anger. 

The room is quiet, save for the measured cadence of Eris’s footsteps. They come to a stop right before Emilia, causing her brown eyes to widen in surprise. Still, she remains steadfast in avoiding eye contact with Eris.

“Lord Eris,” she addresses him, her voice a masterclass in practiced restraint, as though she has honed it over centuries of servitude.

“We should arrange for someone to teach you how to read.”

Emilia blinks, caught off guard and for a fleeting moment, vulnerability flickers in her dark eyes. It’s not the first time Eris has been kind yet she still can’t comprehend why he continues to express concern for her. She hesitates before regaining her composure and slowly lowers her gaze.

“Grandfather says reading will only taint the female’s mind and that I do not need to know how to read in order to fulfill my duty.”

“And what duty is that exactly?”

“I’m the last Pyralis female. I’m sure you can take a guess, my lord.”

Eris exhales heavily, as if he too was wearied by the harshness of her world. “Suit yourself then.”

For centuries, the Pyralis family stood as a formidable force, characterized by its size and strength. Even amidst the transformative shift in magical favor that propelled the Vanserra family to High Lordship, the Pyralis clan endured without faltering. True to their name, they rose from the ashes, mirroring the resilience of the Phoenix they were named after. They maintained their high status in politics, taking on the role as the Vanserra’s chief advisors. Speculation lingered that the only force capable of bringing down the Pyralis family was the family itself.

The Pyralis family's decline began long before Eris’s birth. Still, he couldn't help but reflect on the strange sight of witnessing such a once-mighty and expansive lineage reduced to a mere two living members.

 It made him worry if the same grim fate would befall upon his own family.

**

“Mother’s tits, what happened to you?”

“Your brothers,” is all Emilia says followed by a huff, the small gust of frustration sending the dark red fringe framing her face tumbling forward like a curtain of shadows. Weariness etches across her features, shoulders slumping, allowing a glimpse beyond the facade she meticulously maintains.

Lucien furrows his brow in concern and gently reaches out to tuck the loose strand behind her ear. “You look like you’re in need of a pick me up,” he remarks, his russet eyes lighting up at the idea. “A little trip to Thornwood might lift your spirits.”

Emilia pauses, narrowing her eyes slightly. “I’m sure it’ll lift other things too.”

Lucien laughs, his lips twitching upwards into a grin.  Though Thornwood sounds like a good idea, given the hard day she had, she recognizes why Lucien is more than eager to go. She knows him too well. As they step out of the forest house, he hooks his arm through hers and winnows them both to Thornwood before she could even question if it was safe to do so, given the current volatile state of the neighboring town, Mistwood.

Thornwood is a breath of fresh air.

Both Lucien and Emilia feel a sense of comfort as they fall into step beside each other. Lush orchards and vineyards surround the small town nestled in the countryside of Autumn, their branches heavy with golden and crimson fruits. They walk along the cobblestone pathways, leading to a central square where various vendors are selling goods. Residents, adorned in cozy layers to protect from the autumn winds, go about their daily routines with a sense of unhurried contentment.

An elderly female rests against the weathered water well, rattling a worn cup that holds a few gold marks toward any passersby. As Emilia walks by, the female’s eyes follow her and with a sudden urgency, she rattles her cup harsher.  

“Something wicked this way comes,” she mutters, the words slipping from her cracked lips like an ominous whisper carried by the wind. “Something wicked this way comes…”

With a glare directed at the older female, Lucien steps around Emilia, shielding her from the female’s sharp gaze.

“Em!”

Emilia's head whips around, her guarded expression softening as her gaze fixes on a blonde figure drawing nearer with each passing second. Before she knows it, strong arms envelop her. Emilia finds herself wrapped in a comforting hug and returns the gesture.

"Hey, Jes," Emilia greets, the corners of her lips hinting at a rare smile.

"You haven’t come to visit in awhile. I was getting worried," Jesminda remarks, pulling away from the hug with a concern-laden expression.

Lucien, feeling neglected, huffs in mock offense. "What am I? Chopped liver?"

Jesminda giggles, but she redirects her attention to Lucien, throwing her arms around him. He responds with equal enthusiasm, pulling her close and twirling her around, evoking a delighted squeal that he silences with an affectionate kiss.

“Gross,” Emilia comments, a slight grimace crossing her features.

Jesminda, despite Lucien's protest, untangles herself from his embrace. "Never been in love before?"

Emilia's gaze shifts to where Lucien and Jesminda now hold hands. "No, and I don’t plan on it." She pauses, her eyes lingering on the intertwined couple before she adds, "It’s not worth the price.”

“You say that now–”

"Yeah, yeah," Emilia cuts off Lucien before he delves into the cliché notion of finding the right person to fall in love with. Blah, blah, blah. She slips her hand into her pockets, withdrawing a handful of goldmarks and tossing them toward Lucien, who effortlessly catches them. "Go fetch us some apple cider, please?"

Once Lucien is out of earshot, Emilia turns to Jesminda with a cautious look. "This is a dangerous game you're playing."

"I'm not scared," Jesminda replies, her eyes scanning the town square before she leans in closer to her friend. "Just like I'm not scared to stand with Saoirse."

Something flickers in Emilia's eyes, and with a soft smile, Jesminda adds, "I love him."

“He’s the High Lord’s son,” Emilia whispers a bit too harshly for even her own liking yet Jesminda remains unfazed by the reminder.

“One of many,” Jesminda simply points out. “I’m sure he could spare one.”

Emilia sighs. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I won’t,” Jesminda promises and then winks at Emilia. “I’m good at sneaking around.”

Emilia watches Jesminda's determined expression, a mixture of worry and reluctant acceptance in her own gaze. It’s not that Emilia doubts Jesminda. Lucien and Jesminda have kept their relationship secret for many years. Albeit, they often used Emilia as the perfect excuse to venture off together such as Lucien planned to do so tonight. 

But, for Emilia, it's the haunting memory of past losses that casts a shadow over her protective instincts. She can't help but feel an innate need to protect her cherished friend, especially given the fact that she was the one who introduced Lucien to her. If something happened to Jesminda, it would be her fault.

Before Emilia discovered the truth of her heritage and was taken in by her father, it was Jesminda's family who she lived with. They plucked her from the harsh streets and took her in as if she was one of their own. A stark contrast to the way her blood family welcomed her. She wasn’t allowed to visit them after she moved into her father’s estate but now that she lived in the Forest house with her grandfather, it was easier to sneak off to visit them.

Lucien reappears, bearing three mugs of hot apple cider that smell like heaven. Emilia happily takes hers, savoring the steaming warmth that envelops her as she takes a measured sip.

“I’m going to find Brienne,” Emilia says and then she flashes the two a pointed look, dark eyes lingering on Lucien for a moment longer. “We can’t stay out too late tonight unless we want to raise concern.”

**

Beron's eyes were deep pools of darkness, simmering with a livid intensity that mirrored the turmoil within the realm. His hands were clasped behind his back. He stood by the window, an emblem of brooding power, his gaze following the departure of his best men on horseback toward Mistwood.

"There's a mole in this court," Beron declares, his voice cutting through the silence, and he turns abruptly to face Edmund. “And I won’t rest until I have their head on a spike.”

Edmund leans forward, concern etching lines onto his wearied features. "Do you have any suspects?"

"I have a few," Beron responds, his gaze piercing into the very soul of his chief advisor.

Edmund's eyes widen in disbelief and he shifts forward in his seat. "Are you accusing me, my High Lord?"

"Given your family history, I'd be a fool not to suspect you. The phoenix is your family's sigil."

"I have no desire for a coup d'état," Edmund retorts, a humorless laugh escaping him as he averts his gaze. His laugh morphs into a cough, eyebrows furrowing in pain as he brings a handkerchief to his mouth. Slowly, he lifts his eyes to meet Beron's. "What must I do to prove my loyalty to you?"

Before Beron could answer, the door to Edmund’s room opens. Emilia slips in and at the sight of the High Lord, a visible shiver runs through her, causing her to instinctively shrink back. With a harsh swallow, she bows her head in respect and then turns to address the older male.

“You called for me, grandfather?”

“You were out late last night,” Edmund glares at the younger female. “Again.”

“Let’s finish our conversation later this afternoon in my study.” Beron says and without acknowledging Emilia’s presence, he gracefully exits the room.

“I’m sorry, I was–”

“You went to go visit them, didn’t you?” Edmund interrupts sharply and when Emilia lowers her head, he rises from his seat. “I am your family. Your only family.”

“You are forbidden to go to Thornwood from now on.”

“But grandfather–”

“Have you not heard?” Edmund raises his voice. “The High Lord has sent his best guards to Mistwood to obliterate the growing threats and Thornwood is sure to follow.” His voice falters as he falls into another fit of coughing. 

“You will stay here, where you are safe,” he manages to wheeze as he slumps back into his seat.

“Are you alright?” Emilia gasps out in horror.

She rushes to her grandfather, falling to her knees beside him. He brings his handkerchief once more to cover his cough. “I’m fine,” he huffs out breathlessly.

When his hand drops to his side and head falls back in exhaustion, Emilia notices the dark red stain on the light fabric. The sight pleases her more than it should and with his eyes closed, Emilia allows her mask to fall.

A faint smirk taints her lips and once again, there's that flicker of fiery malevolence in her eyes. Edmund Pyralis is not fine.

He's dying...and the Vanserras are next.

**

A couple of weeks later...

Mistwood is now nothing but ash.

Though the townspeople fought with heart and might, they were no match for the High Lord’s soldiers who had trained for centuries. Beron gave strict orders for no survivors to be left behind as he’s done so many times before. It’s not the first time there’s been uprisings and rebellions and it certainly won’t be the last. Those disloyal to him may win battles here and there but Beron will always win the war.

His soldiers did not return this time. Instead, Beron ordered them to disperse into neighboring towns along the countryside and act as peacekeepers. However, they ushered in anything but tranquility to the towns they’ve forcefully settled into. 

All was well. There was no longer talk about protests or potential uprisings. No more whispers about the Phoenix. What a foolish hope that had been.

Beron sighs as he enters his bath chambers. The anticipation of relief courses through him as he closes his eyes, immersing himself in the cocoon of steaming warmth that envelops the air. His tired muscles, worn from the weight of responsibility, already yearn for the comforting touch of the hot water against his skin.

Upon opening his eyes, however, the tranquility he sought is shattered. Tension grips his muscles even tighter as his gaze falls upon an unsettling sight. There, floating ominously in the bathwater, is a single red chrysanthemum. The vibrant hue seems to mock him, triggering a surge of pain that stabs sharply through his chest. He doesn’t dare think of her name, forcing images of her back into the corner of his mind he had shoved her into.

He plucks the flower out and flames lick at his fingertips. They burn through the flower with ease, reducing it to a small pile of ashes onto the floor. He uses his magic to dispose of it. He shakes off the unsettling feeling threatening to seep in and settles into the bath instead. He’d deal with the servants who prepared his bath first thing tomorrow. 

**

The following morning, just as he’s about to call for his servants, he’s met with an even more appalling sight.

His eyes widen as he steps out onto his balcony. There’s a sea of red chrysanthemums blanketing the palace grounds, their vibrant petals ablaze in the early light. A small piece of paper floats above him, calling his name in a sinister whisper. He reluctantly takes it, unfolding it.

Burn us and we shall simply rise again from the ashes.

-The Phoenix

It's instinctive. The way he sets the paper ablaze in his grasp. As the last ember of paper dissipates, the sea of red flowers catches fire as if on cue. Beron watches in astonishment as the flowers transform into ashes, only to burst into flames once more. The flames intensify, swirling together in mesmerizing patterns, shaping an unmistakable silhouette. A phoenix.

 A shiver races down his spine. 

There’s only one person he knew who loved red chrysanthemums. Desperate for an answer, he reaches out to the threads of fate that he had severed. They hang loosely but they’re still there. Only this time, he feels nothing. Absolutely nothing.

A profound emptiness washes over him, rendering him numb. She’s dead. He should not be surprised. Afterall, he had ordered it.

It’s as if the Cauldron, offended by his defiance of its predestined connection, has forsaken him upon opening his side of the bond. The bond he denied and closed off for centuries. His body weakens, forcing him to fall onto his knees.

Silver lines his brown eyes. His eyes that were once dull are now lively with pure grief and heartache. His hands grasp at his chest as if they could close the gaping hole she left behind. It’s useless. 

The memories of her, his mate, begin to rise just as the ashes of the red chrysanthemums did. He can see her smiling at him in a way he does not deserve. He can hear her calling his name in a hushed whisper that burns into his skin. More and more memories of her infiltrate his mind, tormenting him in the worst ways imaginable.

“Beron.”

“Beron,” the voice repeats again and it takes him a while to register that the voice is not his mate’s but his wife’s.  “What is going on?”

Beron is surprised at the concern laced into her tone. He grasps onto this feeling, pulling himself out of the depth of the own hell he created. The bond in his chest slowly closes once more.  His breath begins to steady and though shaky, he rises to his feet again.

“I need to find her,” is all he says as he walks past his wife.

Lady Aurelia blinks, eyebrows knitting together. “Find who?”

Beron does not answer her. He strides further into their room and toward the area where he keeps his sword. He secures it to his waistband, determined to never go out without it from now on.

Not when his daughter, thought to be lost to the shadows, was alive. Not when she is the one who stands at the helm of the rebellions that echo through the Autumn Court. And for the first time in centuries, a spark of fear ignites within him.

How is he supposed to fight an enemy that prospers when burned to the ground?

a/n: I feel like I suck at writing about politics/conflict that isn't romance related so I hope this came out okay and not confusing. More will info will be given in the next parts.

It feels like I've read ACOTAR ages ago so I've forgotten some details and am going off of what I find on reddit/ACOTAR wiki so if I happen to make a mistake in terms of canon things, let me know. Also, I was too lazy to find new names for some of Eris's brothers so I'm reusing the ones I used in my Like An Angel series. I honestly can't wait until Az shows up but it will be 2-3 parts until then. For now, you get a lot of foreshadowing (:

tagging: @mybestfriendmademe @waytoomanyteenagefeels @janebirkln, @acourtofbatboydreams

(it's been awhile since I updated so I tagged some of y'all, just in case y'all were interested in reading more. Please let me know if you'd like to remain on the tag list, no worries if not (: Or if you'd like to be added)