#eri (oc)

[ijustwannahavefunn]

Look at my babies 🔫🎃

[twsted-canvas]

"Why are you afraid? A wonderful future awaits you."

In which Eri takes 2 weeks to draw and animate a 10-second static scene 😆 enjoy!

SFX used: x x

[surielstea]

Embers Entwined

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Fem!Reader

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

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

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

Word count: 7.9k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Do you not wish to dance?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Correct, my lord."

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

I nodded.

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

Another nod.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I stiffened.

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

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

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

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

He was also undeniably beautiful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I did not look away. I refused to.

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

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

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

A calculated move. A display of power.

And yet—his lips were warm. Gentle.

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

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

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

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

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

I hated it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eris Vanserra, High Lord of Autumn.

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

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

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

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

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

I blinked. "My name?"

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

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

Company. Was this a game? A test?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I swallowed.

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

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

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

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

"Eris," he corrected.

I hesitated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Minutes passed. Then—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I stiffened, his words striking something deep within me.

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

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

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

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

Peace.

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

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

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

I frowned. "About what?"

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

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

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

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

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

Silence fell between us once more.

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

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

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

"Tell you what?" I asked carefully.

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

I hesitated. "That's vague."

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

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

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

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

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

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

I blinked, caught off guard by his honesty.

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

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

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

It became routine.

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

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

And I was learning things.

Not just about him—but about myself.

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

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

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

It was incredibly inappropriate.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I blinked. "Just like that?"

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

A compliment. A genuine one.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not even when he poured me a glass of whiskey.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Too late," he quipped, grinning.

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

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

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

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

"Who said I don't?"

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

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

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

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

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

But I didn't.

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

And then it did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then—it happened.

A tether snapped into place.

Invisible, undeniable, unyielding.

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

No, no, no.

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

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

But I didn't.

I turned and ran.

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

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

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

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

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

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

I was nothing.

A courtier, a servant.

I did not get to have mates.

And certainly not him.

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

I did not sleep that night.

I had been avoiding him.

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

They all knew.

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

I refused.

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

Or at least, I thought I could.

The bond had other plans.

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

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

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

I turned sharply, expecting him, expecting Eris—

But it wasn't him.

It was Kyden.

My stomach twisted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A deep, guttural snarl split the air.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then he was gone.

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

"Are you—"

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

His jaw tensed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

More silence.

His smirk faded.

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

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

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

I said nothing.

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

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

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

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

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

I followed.

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

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

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

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

His jaw tightened. "Kyden—"

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

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

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

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

I scoffed. "You know why."

"I want to hear you say it."

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

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

I hesitated. "I think fate is."

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

I didn't answer.

Did I?

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

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

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

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

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

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

His amber eyes burned. "No."

The breath I took was unsteady.

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

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

Eris nodded once, as if that answer was enough.

Silence stretched between us again.

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

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

I swallowed against the lump in my throat.

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

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

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

I scowled. "Shut up."

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

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

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

I looked away. "I know."

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

More dangerous.

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

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

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

Fate was a sick, twisted thing.

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

It was enough for now.

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

"Painfully aware," I murmured.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His body went still beneath me.

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

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

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

I nodded.

And then he did.

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

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

It should have scared me.

But all I could do was kiss him back.

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

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

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

"It doesn't have to be complicated."

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

So I nodded, just barely.

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

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

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

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[prythianslibrary]

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

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

A C O T A R

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

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

Rhysand | fluff | angst | smut | personal favs

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

Lucien | fluff | angst | smut | personal favs

Tamlin | fluff | smut

Helion | fluff | smut

Tarquin | fluff | smut

J J K

Kento Nanami | fluff | smut | angst | personal favs

Saturo Gojo

Toji Fushiguro

O T H E R S E R I E S

Aaron Warner

divider by @cafekitsune

[lavendel081]

Elliott Episode

[bookwormjust]

Hidden pregnancy (established relationship Eris, protective hound)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[acotarxreader]

Vicious little thing

Eris x Reader

Synopsis: Dressmaker for the Inner Circle was the dream job turn mundane nightmare, all in Court you could never quite warm to. A chance encounter with the infamous son of Autumn leaves you wondering if there's more to life than what it seams (get it lol cause seams not seems)

Warnings: Flirting, banter, Eris pissing Cassian off, angst, descriptions of injury, two males being creepy (but don't worry protective Eris on the scene), jealous Eris, a lil violence and torture, Lucien being an MVP as always

A/N: You guys!! I just have not been in the headspace for writing but I had this written awhile back and I just want to shout out and thank @ninthcircleofprythian @pit-and-the-pen @lady-of-tearshed for helping me out! Let me know as well guys if you have any requests, might get my brain going

----------------------------------------

Of all the places in Night you had accompanied the Inner Circle to, Hewn City was comfortless to you, a specific cold that followed you throughout the Court only amplified off the the dripping stalactites. The slippery cobblestone streets echoed as you moved with slight tension in your steps, fresh supplies tucked under your arm. You practically counted the seconds to when you would reunite with your home deep within the House of Wind, the only place in Night Court with any ounce of warmth for your bones.

A loud bar leaked patrons onto the street, all desperate to escape their daily drivel at the bottom of a keg. Two somewhat large males leaned against the entrance, shouting loud slurs of profanity you ignored while passing, hoping to fade into the background and evade any attention. Unfortunately, you were unsuccessful and soon after felt the eyes of distorted drunken desire bore into your back as your pace quickened.

“Hey, gorgeous where’s the fire?” The voice of pure rust and smoke made the hair on your neck stand up, their footsteps getting louder with the shrinking distance. 

“Oh, no manners baby? How refreshing” The other let a slimy sick laugh leave him as his knotty hand finally caught hold of your forearm, whipping you back to face them, the beautiful fabric sailing to the floor to mop up a muddy puddle.

“Leave me the fuck alone!” The lines on your forehead deepened with disgust as you bent down to retrieve the dripping material.

“Or…” The ever so slightly taller one caught you more roughly by the arm before hauling you forward, dragging you into the mouth of an alley, the other acting as reinforcement.

“Let go of me!” Pure panic left your voice, your head darting side to side for an out as your back was pressed into crumbling brick under your vibrating bones.

“You have to give us a few things first baby” One leaned forward into you as you braced, your wrist being crushed by the other fae, their movement suddenly halting with the addition of a new voice. 

“I don’t think she’s interested fellas” The three of you found your gaze darting towards the tall figure at the end of the alley, a shoulder resting against one wall, hands casually in his pockets as if he wasn’t about to witness a crime against nature. The grip was released on one of your wrists, the taller male unmoving from in front of you while his accomplice began to square off to the still slightly obscured fae. 

Your eyes dropped cautiously down to your side to your bag, trained nimbleness in your hands had you retrieving your fabric sheers, launching them immediately into the thigh of your current captor. A near-deafening roar was released alongside your other arm, the figure at the end of the alley instantly floored the other male with a wave of unseen power. 

You scurried down the alley in the opposite direction of the three, your hands covered in a fine layer of blood that you wiped on your trembling thighs. A flush of heat came from behind you as you reached the mouth of the alley. A curious glance had you witness your perpetrators turned to mounds of ash, the sight turning your stomach into waves of unease. The thought of meeting a similar fate had your feet moving again, only to come flush against a wall-like figure. 

“Where are you going? No thank you?” Eris towered in front of you, a self-satisfied smile scanning unbeknownst to you for any sign of injury.  

“I-um-than-k thank you, General” The words were a rush of syllables followed by a deep curtsey, before you move down the street again, eager to get away from the infamous male. You heard Eris scoff a laugh before he spoke again. 

“Well okay then Ice Princess, maybe next time I’ll leave you?” 

“Do you want a medal or something for doing the right thing?” Once again your tracks were stopped but this time by your own brazen words and the silence from behind you. Turning on the ball of your foot you reluctantly faced the future High Lord, his hands still in his pockets, lips pursed in thought. He could kill you for your insolence and no one would challenge him, you were not even sure anyone would notice you missing until their trousers reached their knees.

“Huh, cute-” He smirked, closing the distance between you in a few long strides “-maybe I do want a medal” You found yourself scoffing at his words, a small blaze seemingly igniting in his eyes at the sound. 

“Get in line, General” A certain playfulness danced in his eyes at your teasing tone, normally not the response he’d elicit from others. You could feel something subtly different in the air, something missing from the mountain’s mist. “Please, call me Eris, or Savouir, lady’s choice” He outstretched a hand you somewhat hesitantly took, not going unnoticed by the son of Autumn. You realised on contact that it was the everpresent chill that you felt that had made its exit from you, flushes of warmth heating your cells gently. Eris turned your hand over in his, scanning over the callouses and their tinge of fresh maroon. 

“A street fighter?” He laughed, eyes tracing the hardened skin. “Dressmaker, for the Night Court” You smiled, taking your hand back, missing the steady pulse of heat his fingers supplied.

“Laborious crowd” His laugh returned the missing warmth to your skin and you found yourself smiling back at the towering male.

“YN?” Your whole body shook at Lucien’s voice across the street, his arms full of freshly purchased supplies for his small apartment in the city. You looked between the two males as Lucien crossed the street to join your side, Eris’s smugness only growing. You and the Prince of Foxes were relatively new friends, his exit from the Spring Court required a whole new wardrobe that you skillfully made.

“Stay away from her Eris” “Oh brother, save us the martyr act” He sighed in almost boredom, amber gaze landing back on you where you could have sworn it softened, no matter how brief. That gentle element died when Lucien’s arm snaked around your waist, pulling you closer to his side. 

“Is that blood on you YN?!” the closer proximity opened you to Lucien’s full mother-hen inspection. 

“Yes it is but not hers, quite the vicious little thing you have here” The air of self-righteousness returned to Eris, his best shield to whatever was bubbling deep beneath. 

“Thimble, what happened?” You noticed Eris subtle flinch at Lucien’s pet name for you as he attempted to ignore his brother's presence altogether. You hated the nickname, it made you feel small, and inexperienced, despite being older than Lucien. It began when he remarked on the coarseness of your hands on his skin during a fitting, suggesting a thimble may stave off further damage. You would never see the point in covering what your years of experience had rewarded you with, the scars on your hands were evidence of a master at work, and a thimble would only hide away your efforts although that was a recurring theme for you in the Night Court you felt. 

“Thimble seems an odd nickname, aren’t they supposed to protect you from pricks? And yet here you are Lucien” Your head lowered slightly to hide the deep smirk growing across your face at Eris’s dig, Lucien unable to continue to ignore him.

“I’ll have you kn-” “-Lucien, we have to get back, I’m not finished with a dress” You cut across any possible rebuttal, eager to get out of the thick air between the two brothers, Lucien smiled softly at you before glaring back at Eris. You tilted your head to Eris again in an almost bow, twisting Lucien’s stomach as you began your fruitless journey back to Nesta. 

“Very good little lapdog Lucien, I’d watch her around scissors” He called after the two of you, his own amusement radiating from his voice. 

-

The ball was organised chaos at best, swelling music and overserved fae had you hiding out in the corner of the venue. Not your normal scene however Nesta had begged you to come, if only to witness your beautiful work in action. You had sacrificed one of Feyre’s many dresses as donor fabric to patch together what you could of Nesta’s outfit, neglecting to tell her that of course. 

“YN, this is so borrrrring” Nesta found you through the crowds, sneaking away from her role at the dais alongside her sister. It had been a few hours since the incident, a glass of wine only taking a sliver of the tension you felt about it from you. 

“Don’t worry Nesta, hopefully it won’t be much lo…” you trailed off, your eyes snagging on Eris across the vast dance floor as he both dazzled and terrified the participants in the conversation he held. 

“At least he’s not bad to look at” Nesta tilted her head to the side, inspecting her mission with curiosity as he glided through the crowd.

“Lucien says he’s torturous”

“Bet he’s good in bed” You elbowed her for her comment as she laughed, the whole conversation making you feel like giddy children.

“Perhaps he’ll make a good pallet cleanser from Cassian” she added. “Cassian who’s trying to melt him with his eyes right now, right?” You grinned, Nesta taking a stolen glance at the slowly boiling Illyrian. When Nesta wanted something, she got it and this very core defining personality trait of hers terrified you. You had been on board with the plan up until your own encounter with the heir and yet now you found yourself empathetic to Cassian’s jealousy, no matter how unfounded you felt it may be. The very voice that saved you earlier pulled your attention back into the room. 

“Hello again YN, I was wondering-” “-Who your friend is? Eris, have I really to remind you of my person” Nesta tone leeched a pure sultry decorum you would never be able to mirror. Her body stood slightly in front of you, a hand extended to reacquaint herself with the High Fae, new beats of jealousy pulsed in your veins as they made contact. Your skin crawled and boiled all at once, further tension only being added by Cassian's surveying across the floor. 

“Go find something to busy yourself with YN” Her voice was firm but said with a smile, forever toeing the line between friend and employer. You watched as Nesta masterfully led Eris to the dance floor and began to light the room ablaze with her ease of movement. The room watched on as the two slotted into one another like a lock and a key, your eyes landed on your shoes, anywhere but on the scene in front of you.

“C’mon dear friend, let's see your moves” You looked at the unfurled hand of your dear new friend in front of you, Lucien’s soft smile accompanying it. You laughed lightly as you allowed him to lead you to the dancefloor. 

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather dance with Elain?”

“But I’d miss you stepping on my toes” he teased as your head tilted back and laughed, despite knowing the answer to your question was of course yes. Now and then while being swirled by the Prince of Foxes, your eyes would cross the path of Eris’s before Nesta stole back the attention. A successful mission up until Cassian’s jealousy could no longer be snuffed out.

—--------------------------------------------------

The gentle pitter-patter of drizzle off the window pane of your workspace filled the room, your hands busy at work, humming along to a tune you heard weeks ago while dancing with Lucien. Back home in the warmest of colds available to you, squirrelled away in mounds of fabric and projects. 

Your hands stilled at the din of distant shouting many floors up through the house. Often you’d ignore any rumblings from upstairs but the familiar sound of a male you’d spent your time trying to forget had your curious feet wandering in the direction of the source. 

“You’re incredulous!” “No, you are!” You peeked through the gap in the huge door that led to one of the grand dining rooms, the two brothers in a stand-off across the large oak table, Rhysand glaring between the two. 

“And you couldn’t have stopped our dear darling father from travelling to Briallyn’s continent?!” Lucien barked, the table shaking slightly. Cassian matched Lucien’s scowl towards Eris, who only allowed a sickly laugh to leave him. 

“And expose myself and this little alliance? I don’t think so little brother! Alec, our father's dear advisor is already getting too curious.” 

“Oh no, nothing to inconvenience yourself!” You flinched slightly at Lucien’s razor-like tone.

“I have inconvenienced myself every day for you!” Eris’s hand shot forward in a dramatic gesture, knocking the large goblet of wine across the table, soaking Lucien as he leapt up from the cold. 

“Fuck! You did that on purpose!” He reached for his napkin to blot the deep stain with no success, Eris now also standing in his own defence. 

“It was an accident, much like your birth, do as I did and make peace with it!” Eris grinned until Lucien swished a wrist, a small ball of flame leaving his fingertips, singeing the jacket and waistband of Eris’s immaculate suit. 

“Lucien!”

“It was an accident” Lucien mimicked, Rhysand now finding his own feet, feeling grateful not to have had any biological brothers.

“Enough! We must leave to meet the other High Lords in an hour and you two are squabbling like children! Lucien, go home and find a new pair of trousers-” Lucien very much looked the role of scolded schoolchild as he winnowed out before further reprimanding “- and you-” Rhysand turned full attention to Eris, who only rolled his shoulders back to accompany a raised eyebrow “-you go and find a curtain or something to wear because if you fuck this meeting up, I will kill you where you stand”

“Aww do you promise-” Eris batted his eyelashes in faux excitement “-I don’t take orders from you”

“Fine, go smelling like a bonfire, see if Rhys and I care” Cassian shot out. 

“Perhaps I left some clothes here after I visited with Nesta the other night” Cassian practically leapt from his chair, Rhysand catching hold of his forearm leaving Eris unshaken. 

“Eris, go be anywhere but here”

“I’d suggest down on your deathbed, I can help you” Cassian chewed out accompanying Rhysand’s order. 

“The only place I’d go down on is the lovely Nesta” Rhysand released Cassian in an instant, springing the warrior over the table, your instinct having you whip the door back on its hinges, the entrance stilling Cassian in confusion as he caught Eris’s collar. 

“I’ll help make something!” You rushed out, unsure of why you were eager to rescue Eris even if it gave away your eavesdropping. 

“YN, know your place” Rhysand warned.

“I mean- c’mon S-sir you have to leave soon and let's be honest, there’ll be questions about why a lord of fire is-is emm burned…or why his face is in pieces for that matter” You watched Cassian release the wrinkled collar, exhaling deeply and jump from the dining table to the floor before striding over to you. 

“At least stab him a few times with pins” 

“Deal” you laughed before standing aside in the doorway for Cassian and Rhysand to pass. 

-

After arriving at your workroom, a flush of self-conscious energy rushed you at the mess you had been living and working in, now under the scrutiny of the son of Autumn. Towers of discarded and active projects cast shadows along the stone of the space, his eyes inspecting the smaller details of the room as you pulled out fabric rolls from the wall. You couldn’t help but notice the warmth in the tall shadows not there previously, its addictive nature nipping at your skin.

“Jacket” You ordered, a hand out to take the sooty material, Eris obliging wholeheartedly, surprising even himself. He watched you inspect it closely, attempting to hide his wonder of you as you sighed. He thought how he would very much love to watch you work, how he may very well do anything you asked of him and how foreign that very feeling was. “Sloppy stitching, conjured I suppose not handmade?” He nodded in confirmation to your question, doing his best to hide his amazement at your assessment. 

“I don’t think this is your colour-” “-Excuse you, this green is one of my court colours, how can it not be my colour?” Eris' anger startled you, snapping you out of your dressmaker autopilot, remembering your company. “Sorry-I emm- not your tone shall we say” Your panicked voice was only silenced by a laugh from Eris.

“Just kidding YN, I’m not offended” “Just a prick” You whispered to yourself as you slipped a pin cushion over your wrist, Eris smiling from behind you. You pointed at the step riser in the corner of the room for Eris to stand on as you gathered your treasure trove of supplies. 

“Take off your trousers” You threaded the soft measuring tape through your fingers from behind him. 

“Not going to buy me dinner first?” He raised his eyebrow to you with a grin you felt that maybe not everyone got to see, his hands undoing what was left of the waistband before he shook off the fragile fabric, leaving him in his undergarments. You took a deep quiet breath before sinking to crouch alongside him, measuring the length of his leg.

“On your knees so soon” You stood instantly again, pushing him playfully, stilling almost as soon as you had moved. 

“Sorry I-” “-I won’t bite you YN, not unless you ask” he winked, causing you to bite the inside of your cheek begging your body not to grin back, instead just resuming your measurements. “I should have let Cassian kill you” You whispered by his calf as he looked down at you. 

“There she is, there’s who’s fun to play with” You could hear his smile, just as you took a pin from the holder strapped to your wrist, poking him into his ankle. He hissed, rolling his ankle slightly away from you as you stood again. 

“That was for the Nesta comments” You put the pin into the cuff of your sleeve, retrieving your scissors and cutting strips of a deep red fabric without the measure, all the knowledge within your head accompanied with years of skill. 

“I was just bored and the big bat is an easy target. I have no intentions of pursuing Lady Death, don’t be jealous” He watched you in the mirror as if afraid to blink and you’d disappear. You forced your focus closer to your cutting, Eris slipping from the step to stalk closer to you.

“Why would I be jealous? I don't even know you” “Odd, I feel like I know you… but regardless, I’d imagine you’d be jealous if your relationship with my darling brother isn’t all you want it to be” You whipped around to him in shock, scissors still in hand. Eris put his hands up in faux surrender while glancing at the scissors, your eyes rolling again, placing the instrument behind you. 

“What? Me and Lucien?” You laughed wholeheartedly, Eris tilting his head to the sound, stepping from the riser. 

“No?” “Now who’s jealous?” he only scoffed at you in reply. 

“Heirs do not get jealous, they get what they want” His somewhat serious tone sent a shiver down your spine, the distance seemingly shrinking between you.

“And what does this heir want?” “Hmm” he hummed leaning forward into the gap, that tempting heat pulling you towards him, every cell screaming for the temperature in your skin to increase, to meet with his, to reach inferno.

“YN, do you have a spare-what’s going on in here?” Lucien stood in the doorway, his suit jacket in his hand, a missing button by the collar. 

“Ever the best for timing dear brother” Eris squared his stance, turning to face his kin as you wished the earth to swallow you whole.

“Let's not get into it in front of the Lady.-” Lucien rolled his shoulders back, unshaken by the sharp tone of his brother “-Thimble, please could you reattach this button? It was the one I used magic to affix and you were right, it didn’t hold” You gave a soft smile, taking it from his hands, reluctantly crossing the path between the two. 

“Come, dear brother, leave my lovely YN to work” Lucien stood back in the doorway to leave space for Eris to pass. A rush of intense heat radiated from Eris at his brother's endearment towards you, his knuckles cracking as fists formed. 

“Won’t you need me for the rest of the fitting?” He looked at you, eyes asking you to beg him to stay.

“I-” “-YN is used to finishing projects down here without the muse, she works better alone right YN?” You nodded slightly at Lucien, his voice no longer toeing the line between friend and employer, the latter taking full effect. You sank back to your work table, tacking together the fabric as Lucien guided Eris away from you, Eris slipped back on the remnants of his trousers before reluctantly leaving. The cold rushed to your bones again as the faint sound of their bickering filled the halls. 

—-------------------------------

Two weeks later

Thoughts of Eris crossed your mind while looking down on the vast woodland of coppers and bronze through a window taller than him. The flickers of rust and chestnut hues pulled you towards them like a moth to flame. You had never been in an environment like it, so famously cold but surprisingly warming to your inner world. Beron had insisted on holding a dinner with Night Court in his home, still believing his trip to Briallyn’s continent was undiscovered. 

“Okay, we go, we hear what nonsense he’s peddling and we compare notes when we get home?” The Inner circle nodded in agreement to their High Lord as he knotted his cufflink into place before outstretching the same hand for you to adjust. Just as quick Nesta called for your attention as Azriel covered a more specific game plan. Nesta had insisted you accompany her, and help to ready her for the meeting, no matter how many times you reminded her that that was very much so not part of your job. 

“It's fine YN stop fidgeting!” She snapped at you, tugging the end of her dress from your grip before she leapt from the riser to take Cassian’s arm as they moved to leave for dinner. You knew she didn’t mean to take you so sharply, she was just stressed, they were all stressed. They were always stressed, they never meant to snap at you, or at least that's what you convinced yourself of.

“We should have left you home where you would be safe” Lucien said softly, pulling you from the step riser again, his thumb sweeping over the back of your hand. You couldn’t help but notice how different his touch was from Eris, and how you wished it was him with you now not Lucien. 

“Stay here YN, I hate it here as much as you, I’ll be as quick as I can back to you” He gave another smile before following the Inner Circle, closing the heavy door behind him. Did you hate it here, you wondered as you wandered around the room at the edge of Forest House, secluded away as you always were in these venues. 

You couldn’t help but listen to a vibrant voice in the back of your mind, beckoning you to come out and play. 

The distant echos of grandeur filled the halls from the dining room at the opposite end of the hall as you crept down the stoneway in the opposite direction. Before realising it, you step to a servant entrance of the grand house, whispers of Autumn guiding you through a place so new yet familiar. Your fingertips hardly made contact with the bronze of the handle before a large weight was thrown deep into your side. Overwhelming, almost suffocating heat swallowed the screams you shrieked, accompanied by a heavy hand as all pulled you from the hallway to an adjacent hallway pantry.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” Eris released his hold on you, a flicker of flame leaking from his hand illuminating the closet. You doubled over, arms swaddling your stomach as you caught the breath shocked out of you. Eris's characteristic ironing-board-like posture softened at the sight.

“I-I didn’t mean to frighten you” 

“What-what the-” Eris’s hand reached for your arm, worry radiating before you cut off the action “-what the fuck is wrong with you?! You don’t just grab someone like that!” You righted yourself again, hands finding your hips as the oxygen found your lungs again. 

“Oh, you’re okay, I thought you lost your damn fucking mind coming here!” unfamiliar sharpness crossed his tongue as you scoffed at his heated whisper. 

“I’m here working” “Working? Those morons have no idea what bringing you here could cause!” His hands ran through his hair in frustration, the light flickering with the movement. 

“I won’t cause anything!-” You watched him drag his hands from his hair down his face in pure exasperation “-except it seems a headache for you” You grinned and as much as he fought it, he mirrored you.  

“Aren’t you supposed to be at the dinner?” “And aren’t you supposed to be in your cave of endless fabric?” You rolled your eyes at his rebuttal, moving to pass him only to have a soft touch take hold of your arm. The thud of a palm-sized book tumbling out of his pocket had both your gazes dropping. Surprisingly, you were first to retrieve the ornate book, its cover decorated with expansive drawings of the wood surrounding the Forest House. 

“Your diary?” You grinned, offering it back to him. 

“It’s actually…it’s actually nothing” You pulled it back into you at his ever so slightly panicked tone.

“So it is your diary?” You laughed gently, a slight rush of red growing across the Prince of Autumn's cheeks. 

“Its-its a collection of..of poetry I’m working on” He admitted, fighting his way through growing embarrassment as his eyes fixated on the leather in your hand. You smiled down again at the cover, at the idea of a softer Eris locked behind these pages, a glimpse into his world.

“We have to get you out of here” He said abruptly, as if eager to shift topics away from his hidden hobby. “Fine, I’ll ask Lucien to bring me back there” A pulse of heat radiated between you.

“I’ll bring you” 

“Won’t that impact the whole double agent incognito thing” You smirked, trying your best to not look down towards his gentle hold on you. 

“I’m sure if I murdered Lucien that would impact things more” 

“Remember Eris, I told you that shade of green wasn’t your colour” Silence swaddled the forgotten closet.

“That’s the first time you’ve said my name” The sound of his moniker sent Eris’s grip tightening slightly on your arm. “I’m sorry, was it saviour you preferred?” You hardly whispered, the swift movement that followed had your back pressed into the adjacent wall, Eris’s hand resting above your head, trapping you in the addictive warmth.

“As long as I’m the one you call for, I don’t care what you call me” he allowed himself to confess.

“This feels like a mistake” 

“So was trying to hurt you, I enjoyed every lick of flame that torched those males YN and if it had been any other male other than my brother to dance with you that night they would have met a similar fate” Eris’s smoky voice admitted quietly, amber eyes trapping you in their heat. A warm palm found its way to your waist, ushering you closer to the High Fae behind the walls of an enemy Court.

“So you were jealous?” “Shut up and let me kiss you” Every drop of your blood was heated with the perfect pressure that met your lips and your hand instinctively took a fistful of his shirt pulling him tighter into you. You felt his fingers knot deeply into your hair as his other hand tightened its grip, your mouths slotting over one another in perfect synchronicity. 

“You’re so delicate YN, your Court’s best kept secret and this world's greatest beauty, I feel like a moth to your flame-” Eris’s voice came out husky, starved for your touch “-I couldn’t explain it to myself why I felt like walking around that cursed city that day, the Mother must have known I’d meet you, that I would be drawn to you, that I burn for you” his thumb brushed over your cheek as you rested your head in the palm of his hand. A rush of cold met your skin as Eris fully pulled from you, your balance rocking slightly.

“Did-did I do something?” Eris sighed at your words, a hand tracing through his hair before he turned to face you, eyes ablaze. 

“I-I really feel like you may be worth every risk in this entire world but I am not and I will not risk your safety for my own desire” 

“I can protect myself Eris” “Not from what would seek you out because of me” The both of you stayed in studied silence for a moment, just observing one another and the energy shift between you both. 

“My court will protect me” a low sound growled from Eris's throat in response to you.

“You mean my brother will protect you?  The others care not for anyone but those in their precious inner sanctum” 

“That’s not true, I’m their friend!” You snapped back, your voice rising above a crackled whisper in anger. The words pinged an idea directly into Eris’s head, his way to push you away. “You’re their employee! They take you for granted! You can’t honestly say they treat you well can you? Do you think they’d keep you around if you lost your use to them? Their loyalty is conditional, they can’t be relied on!” A truth you frequently ignored washed over you, too much to take.

“You’ve been away from the table too long General, I must return to work” You offered the almost forgotten book in your hands back to him, his eyes only moving from the binding to your eyes. You scoffed again before moving as quickly as he had brought you to this secluded closet, rushing your away from the heat you wanted to be swaddled in forever. You tucked the tiny book into your sock beneath your dress, perhaps that was his goodbye gift to you you thought. Your path was then interrupted around the corner of the secret haven by the feeling of your body crashing into the solid pushback of metal, your hips meeting the plush carpet. 

“What do we have here?” You looked up through your eyelashes at the striking male, his broad shoulders shrouded in thick copper metal, the Autumn court of arms across his breast. 

You pushed up off the ground, doing your best to ignore your bruised tailbone. The broad, older male scanned you, his eyes snagging on your Court’s emblem stitched into your sleeve. 

“And tell me, what would a member of the Night Court be doing out of the designated area?” 

“I-I was looking for-for the bathroom” He towered over you, the smell of soot and tinder filling your airways, thick enough to choke on. He stretched out a gloved hand, lights flickering in his eyes like a sparking fire. Before you could take his hand, they curled around your wrist, hauling you forward. 

“And yet, I don't believe you” razor words said with a razor grin nicked at your nerves beneath your uniform. 

“Would-would I lie to you sir?” You sank into the lowest curtsey you could manage while still tethered to the burly male. You could feel your fingertips turn blue as the gloved hand took a tighter hold, your voice fighting not to croak as you spoke again. 

“I-I must return to my High Lord” 

“I don’t think so, this little exploration of yours must be reported” Alec snarled down at you, flicking his wrist sending yours back in a conflicting direction, a small yelp leaving your throat. “YN?” The two of you looked to find Lucien, stunned expression turning steely as he looked towards the hold a member of his former Court held on your wrist. He made short work of the distance between you, his warmed hand taking your opposite wrist.

“Unhand this Lady!” He barked.

“Lady? She is staff, staff that was where she shouldn’t have been!” Your head dipped at the ever-present reminder of your differences. Lucien scanned you briefly, a subtly deep intake of air had the scent of Autumn wind and campfire flooding his senses, his brother's scent on you. 

“I perhaps agree with you for once-” Lucien whispered down to you, words tainted with disappointment “-but regardless, she will come with me and her High Lord will take care of matters” Alec's grip only tightened further as Lucien attempted to pull you to his side, another wince decorating your face. 

“Not before my High Lord has a chance to examine what she may have learned”

“What was I going to learn in the bathroom, his Lordship's haircare routine?” Your words surprised you as much as anyone but not as much as the feeling of cracked leather meeting the side of your face, knocking you down to the plush carpet, out of Luciens hold. The side of your cheek felt as though it instantly began to swell, it matched your eyes as tears threatened to fall over the rim. You didn’t stay down for long, Alec hauling you back to your feet by your cracking wrist joint. You could feel the blood run from your lips, your skin fighting to stitch together and failing. Black blotted your vision competing for the greatest pain with your wrist.

“This female is to be brought before the Lord of Autumn. You have no authority here, run along to your master, she comes with me” That’s all you could hear before the black blots overtook the beautiful brass and copper of the Court of Autumn, no longer able to support your own weight. 

—-----------

The low crackle of a cruel flame filled your ears as an unnatural chill stretched from the icy flame. Your eyes flickered like the fire across from your cell, doing your best to come around from the sadistic male’s brutality. The cracking of brickwork met your back as you leaned into it, uncurling your legs from the ball of protection you had attempted to make. The depth of Forest House, far far away from the kind forest spirit voices that beckoned you to play, now replaced with the pained groans of other enemies to Autumn. 

“Wakey wakey” You rolled your head along the stone, supporting its weight as you looked to see the ever-feared Lord of Autumn standing on the other side of the brass caging. The metal shuddered as the guards opened them for their master. You lowered your head slightly, trying to win any favour with Beron, his low laugh your reward. 

“Anything to say for yourself?” You looked back up, fear stealing your voice as he stepped in closer, your bones rattling lowly off the stone beneath you. 

“No? Funny, you seem to have plenty of thoughts to write about” “Ex-excuse me, Lord?” You said quietly, your eyes then landing on the pocket-sized notebook in his cruel hands. You looked between it and its new holder, evident panic on your face, quickly exchanged for pure pain as the Lord of Autumn suddenly shot forward, pressing your body into the cold stone, his grip clutching your throat. 

“Beautiful sonnets and poems and prose, all with the very strong theme of escaping my beautiful court, destroying my beautiful legacy, running off with a beautiful forbidden creature, an accomplice of yours?” His even tone of pure ice contradicted the flaming heat beating through his hands to your throat. He’d kill his heir for his words, destroy him, torture him, make him beg, the idea of any of those outcomes unthinkable to you.

“Do not, DO NOT try to deny it” He tried again, crushing some air from your windpipe free. 

“Father!” Eris bellowed suddenly from behind, a small ease in pressure on your skin.

“Make yourself scarce Eris, I’m busy” His blackened eyes didn’t leave your bloodshot ones. 

“What are her charges?” Eris tried his best to keep the desperate tone at bay, Beron only held out the tiny notebook to his side, his other hand still gripping you. You watched as Eris turned practically to match the colour of your own oxygen-starved skin. 

“And she-she has admitted to that being hers?” “She was about to before your interruption!” He barked back at his eldest son, before allowing enough air into your lungs so you may speak. You looked over his shoulder to the Heir of Autumn, his eyes sunken in from worry or lack of sleep or both, you weren’t sure. You weren’t even sure how long you had been down there, how long before your Court would come for you if they even would come. These questions plagued you endlessly and now you were finally about to meet your end, your answer of who would come if you really needed help answered right in front of you in the russet eyes of a male you took stolen moments with. The male who believed himself not worthy of anything other than pain. You would not die with him believing this. 

“It’s min-” Your rasped lie cut off a flush of heat pulsating around the entire cell, Beron’s gaze snapping back to his son, a full release of pressure met your throat, your body sank to the ground, muscles screaming out for the rush of returning oxygen. You propped yourself up on your well-worn hands, fighting away blurry vision. Eris stood, shoulders settled back, flames like globes in his hands. 

“Alec, that’s Alec’s, there's more in his quarters. Go search them and you’ll see, no need to declare war with Night Court by slaughtering one of their courtiers” Pure confidence beamed from Eris, a grin then decorating his face as his father tilted his head in thought. 

“Think about it Father, it has to be someone with more access than a dressmaker? Someone with the intelligence to weave plots into poems, do you really think that a female would be capable of such?” Your heavy breath remained down towards the brick floor you looked down to, its small stones breaking away and burying into your palms and knees. You knew he saw you as more than that, and you trusted that he saw you as more than your court saw you as. You trusted him you realised. You heard Beron hum in quiet contemplation before looking back towards you, your hair matted in knots, uniform in tatters, the perfect image of weakness he believed all females had. Beron gestured quickly with his chin, his armed guards launching into action to search the quarters, no doubt going to find carefully planted prose and poems, damming in their divinity. 

“A dressmaker?” Beron questioned you once again, his head tilting as you nodded gently towards the stone, unable to lift your dizzying head. 

“Useless skill” He spat down before sinking a heavy, steel-soled boot flush with your right hand. Blood rushed to your ears as the little oxygen in your lungs escaped as a deafening roar, drowning out the sound of your breaking bones. The ring of bruises gifted to you by Alec on your other wrist clutched your shattered hand into your chest.

“You may finish her off Eris, your reward for your observant nature, I must see to the search” He smirked at his son who fought to keep his mouth from hanging open and flame from fleeing his fists. Beron sank into the fire, leaving his heir and his prisoner. Eris crashed to your side, his warm hands supporting your shoulders as you cried out. 

“I’m sorry YN, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry” He whispered into your hair, your sobs drowning in his chest. A swirl of comforting flame swaddled you both as Eris pulled you both through the heat to the outskirts of the wood surrounding Forest House. 

The Forest air was as refreshing as any of the elements as you landed gently in the clearing, Eris’s arms supporting your weight as he clung you into him. 

“They’ll be here soon my love” He gave a small saddened smile into the crown of your hair, causing you to pull back to look up at him. 

“What?” You managed, the movement of even speaking amplifying the pain in your digits. Another whoosh of air filled the clearing, Lucien quick to your side accompanied by Azriel, colour draining from the Shadowsinger’s face at the overly familiar sight of your hands. 

“Go with them YN, they’ll protect you” Eris attempted another smile as you looked from him to his brother, who tried and failed to hide his worry. 

“I want- I want to stay with you Eris” “Look at what happens when you stay with me YN, nothing good ever comes from this place” “But you came from this place” You cried out, your legs trembling again, Eris’s arm slipped around your waist again, Lucien unfamiliar with this side of his brother. 

“I told you I’m only going to bring you pain” “And I-I told you green wasn’t one of your colours, we can both be wrong sometimes” You laughed lightly through your tears, fighting your instincts to look down at your hands. Eris brushed a thumb over your cheek, keeping a stray tear from falling before pressing his lips to your forehead. 

“I have to leave you YN, I have to make sure Alec learns his lesson, the same one I will teach my father one day and anyone who dares to harm you” He searched through your eyes before stepping back, allowing Lucien to wrap his arm around you to support your body, Azriel placing a small cloth over your hand to shield you from the full extent of the damage. Eris traced the rings of bruising on your uncovered wrist, further cementing his decision. Azriel’s eyes scanned, watching for signs you had all been discovered and finding the distant sounds of guards beginning to storm towards them. 

“We have to go” Azriel ordered, Eris and Lucien both nodding. 

“Eris, please, please come with us” You begged through sobs. 

“One day YN, one day I’ll show you this Court when it’s something I’m proud of, I’ll show you all of who I am, when it’s something I’m proud of” He brought the back of your hand to his lips, only to have you suddenly pull it back before launching forward towards him. His lips on yours felt like a warm hearth, like home, his soothing heat warming the world you always thought was meant to be cold. 

“I was jealous” He admitted with his signature smirk as he parted from you, his hand running down your tangled hair receiving a light laugh from you as Lucien reluctantly pulled you back. 

“We have to go, they’re close” Azriel took your weight, hesitantly taking you some distance away from Eris, leaving Lucien and Eris with some space between them. 

“I will look after your mate brother” Eris only nodded in return before stealing another glance at you and sinking into flame. 

--------------------------------------------------

Whatcha think? Hehehehe

[acis-arts]

Hey I'm curious, in the swap au how are the other lamb bishops as followers? And will there be any unique interaction between them and narinder's family?

It's not really a big difference between them and the original Bishops as Followers. In the beginning, they also become difficult to deal with since it's hard accepting your mortal body again as a former God.

These are the only interactions with Narinders family that I thought about so far:

The last one was a joke at first, but it would be funny to make Sahmat a hypocrite.

[2thestars-andbeyond]

Little Rabbit

Summary: Y/n is the youngest Archeron sister. While training with Rhysand, she winnows herself to the Autumn Court by mistake and finds someone she can't seem to get off her mind..

"Just close your eyes and try again." Rhysand told me, sternly. I'm sure he was getting pretty fed up with me and my training. Plus we'd been at this for a good three hours now. "Close your eyes and concentrate."

"That's what I've been doing Rhys! And its not working!" I took a deep breath trying not to lose my temper. "I just end up five feet from where i'm standing."

Winnowing was hard and learning how to use the power was draining. Taking a seat on a near by stump, I wiped away a stay tear that started to roll down my cheek.

"Winnowing is a power not all Fae have. It takes a good deal of concentration and strength. try again Y/N. Try to think of another spot in the woods."

All the woods looked the same. Every tree the same type of maple. Every blade of grass the same shade of green.

I rolled my eyes at Rhys. "I'm not sure why you have so much faith in me winnowing anyway. I'm obviously not that good at it so i'm not sure why it matters so much."

Rhys took a deep breath and ran his hand down his face. "Y/n, I know you can do this. Close your eyes and try again. Focus on the tree that Azriel is standing next to."

Az just nodded at me. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I always loved being in the woods especially during autumn. All the colors and cool breezes. Soon, in my minds eye, the tree behind the Shadow Singer had vibrant orange leaves and a cool breeze blew my hair. I ripped my eyes open.

"You've got to be kidding me." I whispered in disbelief. I had done it. I had finally winnowed, right into the Autumn Court...

"I knew that asshole was up to something" Rhysand had been trying for the past week to get me to winnow. I hope he's happy now.

"I know you can do it" I mocked my brother in law as I walked through the unfamiliar forest of Autumn. I knew it was a matter of time before Beron's sentries found me. Rhysands "I know you can do it" is probably going to get beheaded or whatever they do to trespassers in this Court.

I heard shuffling in the nearby bushes. I stopped so abruptly I almost fell. "Please don't be a bear or a wolf."

I let out a sigh of relief as a squirrel jetted out of the bush.

"Are you lost little rabbit?"

I whirled around and bumped right into a red haired male.

"Shit." I murmured under my breath, finding it hard to find my voice.

He smirked. "You are far from home. Don't worry. I already informed Rhysand."

I had never met this male before. So how did he know who I was? He took a step around means continued down the path.

"I do have to say that it is pretty impressive that you winnowed this far away from Night. nearly four courts away. Come. We will meet your high lord somewhere safe. Beron has eyes and ears everywhere. Sometimes I fear the creatures are on his side as well."

I ran to catch up with him. "Wait so you aren't going to turn me in?"

He chuckled. "Why would I do that? Hmm?" His amber eyes met mine.

His gaze was intense and nearly took my breath away. "I-it's just that i'm trespassing, correct? I was sure that would be punishable in such a cutthroat Court?"

"Oh, it is. Usually anyway, but I told Beron i'd check out the breech in the border."

We walked for what seemed like forever. Passing by tree after tree, all of them different it seemed, unlike the forest back home. Every tree different shades of Autumn colors. More vibrant than I had ever seen back in the night Court or the human lands for that matter. Before I knew it we had reached a clearing.

"Take my hand" The male told me. "Rhysand waits for you in the clearing."

I gave him a skeptical look, "Ahh. I don't see anything inside the clearing"

"Just trust me." He replied offering me his hand.

"How do I know I can trust you? I don't even know you."

"I would never let any harm come to you, Y/n." I gasped as he grabbed my wrist and pulled me into his chest. The smell of crackling fire and spice engulfed me as he winnowed us into the clearing.

Rhysand, Feyre and Az appeared before me. Azriel, noting how close the male held me, drew his knife.

"Calm down Shadow Singer, she is unharmed. Aren't you little rabbit?" He asked, bringing my chin up so that my eyes met his again.

Azriel growled. but the male let me go. Taking one more look at his face, I ran into my older sisters arms. "I'm okay. " I assured them.

"Thank you Eris for keeping her safe." Rhys stated.

"It is strange though. That she winnowed so far from home." Eris mused. "Makes one wonder what drew her to a court she had never stepper foot into." With that, he disappeared.

Shocked was an understatement. The male that had saved me was the Heir of Autumn. the male every one talks so much shit about. And all I could think about was how his warm hand felt wrapped around my wrist. How his finger had gently raised my chin, how his amber eyes seemed to darken as they bore into mine.

[goodoldfisticuffs]

Under Surveillance

Emo boys belong to @dat-soldier

[tovibeornottovibe]

Before Someone Misses You

Eris Vanserra x Healer!Fem!OC

As a result of his father's heavy-handed parenting style, Eris is mere moments away from death. He can't think straight; the faebane and the blood loss is making him delirious. With what little strength he has, he winnows to Cleo's backdoor and practically collapses into her arms. Unfortunately for him, his usual restraint is severely impeded and yeah, he's so fucking in love with her, even if he can't admit it to himself. [4k words]

warnings: implied/referenced torture, swearing, implied sexual situations, mentioned Beron Vanserra (yuck)

Prefer to read on Ao3?

“Eris, Eris, you need to breathe. Just look at me, okay?”

He’s trying. Really, really trying. His eyes don’t seem to want to stay open, his head feels full, heavy, and his saliva is thick in his mouth like molasses; he can’t swallow it. He can’t tell if he’s going to throw up or pass out. All he knows is that he’s bleeding on Cleo’s floor and leaving a gory trail behind him as she props him up and leads him to her sofa. And now he’s bleeding on her sofa too.

Shame. The cream-coloured cushions suited her living room so well.

Eris is vaguely aware that she’s positioning him so she can get access to all of the lacerations across his torso, and that her dog is sitting patiently beside him, out of the way but close enough, worrying after him. He winces when she grips his chin and moves his head, lets out a ragged, wet breath when he tries to shift.

“Don’t move,” she says. He figures she talks like this with the fae she treats on the daily. Very to the point, but with a touch of tenderness. Delirium has hit him so hard that he manages to convince himself that she might actually save said tenderness just for him. Well, it’s a nice thought to go out with if this does turn out to be his last day alive. Ah, and he still had so much more to do. 

“You need to stay awake. Can you do that for me?”

Cleo has a soothing voice. It’s rich and has none of that sycophantic tartness that the females of his own court tout at every opportunity. When she berates him for not taking care of himself—namely, for not seeing a damn healer immediately, for the love of the fucking Mother—she might as well be singing a lullaby…

“Please, Eris.”

He hums what he thinks might be some kind of response and makes the effort to open his eyes. Sometime between him falling into her arms and him falling onto her sofa, she had removed his shirt and started cleaning his wounds. They’re mostly cuts from a knife, but it’s the faebane making him feel so fuzzy. He can feel how his magic putters out in his veins. Courtesy of his father. Something, something, researching the effects of high dosages. What little he had managed to regain in the hours between being dumped in his rooms and now had been used up winnowing to Cleo’s doorstep at daybreak. The Dawn Court is further away than he thought and it had felt like wading through mud.

Usually, her cleaning him up hurts. The alcohol she uses burns but it’s effective and the blinding sting helps keep him focused. This doesn’t even register. He can’t feel where she’s pressing the cotton to his skin. Can’t feel where she’s holding him down to keep him from thrashing. Doesn’t even know if he’s capable of thrashing.

The dark waves of her hair fall over her face and she uses her bloodied hands to brush it out of the way. She hasn’t had it cut for a while and the length suits her. It probably reaches her mid-back now.

“What did he give you?” she asks, that slight tenderness hidden beneath a roiling, constrained kind of anger which makes him equally pleased and sickened. If it were anyone else, them seeing him in this state would have been mortifying, worthy of threats and promises never to tell a soul, but it’s Cleo, so it’s fine.

Eris attempts to form the word faebane, but his lips won’t do what he tells them and his teeth are suspiciously static. Whatever he chokes out registers with her, and she leaves him for a moment, presumably to dig through the cupboard under the sink where she keeps miscellaneous substances like selenium solution. Keenly, he feels her absence. He closes his eyes.

This is a quaint, little middle-of-a-terrace house in a quiet part of Thesan’s city, mostly untouched by Amarantha. Small, but comfortable. A kitchen made for no more than three, a dining table with tasteful chairs, a clean living room, artfully furnished and perfect for her. Though he has never been upstairs, he imagines her bedroom is similarly decorated with classy, understated furniture. There’s a patch of a back garden where she grows herbs and her dog, Dartagnan, can bound about in the sunshine. Here, even he can see the benefit of seasons. He’d go as far to say it's idyllic. 

Perhaps she’ll construct a funeral pyre for him somewhere nearby. Dart will find sticks for her to add to the pile. The birds will sing while his body burns. It could be worse. He could be at home.

Nudging at his hand which hangs off the sofa limply—his muscles aren’t doing much for him at the current moment—has his head lolling to the side and his eyes fluttering back open again. Dart is sniffing at the blood on his forearm. He slowly pats him on the head, running his fingers through his fur, and even in his state, he can hear his tail start to swish against the floor.

Dart makes for a good distraction, and Eris stays awake until Cleo returns and kneels at his side. 

“Am I going to have to force this down your gullet?” she asks, though a response doesn’t come to mind. Anything she says right now feels like coming in from the cold and sitting in front of the hearth. “Fuck, okay, fine.”

She pulls his jaw and opens his mouth and he lets her. One of these days, she’ll cup his face and it won’t be to pour medicine down his throat. Even when she’s treating him, particularly if it’s his face that needs healing and she gets so close to him that he can feel her breath against his neck, he thinks about whether or not she’d let him seduce her. Eris knows she’d suit burgundy. He wonders if she knows how to dance. If not, he could teach her—ack!  

As soon as the foul-tasting antidote hits his tongue, he feels his magic begin to purge the faebane from his veins, burning it out of his system, and for the first time since yesterday afternoon, he can breathe properly. He lets out a sharp sigh which catches in his throat. He flexes his hands, bends his knees, the feeling coming back to them, and manages to sit himself up despite the stinging of his wounds. At that, Cleo’s relief becomes evident on her face and she sits back on her calves, looking up at him. Dart, visibly brightening from Eris’ movement, rests his chin on the sofa cushion and nudges his side again. He goes back to fussing him.

“If you had left it another hour, you would be dead. You understand that, right?”

For a moment, he pauses. His imminent death isn’t even top five on his list of things to worry about.

He flicks his attention to her, and her short-lived relief has been replaced by a quiet, seething kind of rage which somehow makes him feel guilty. It’s not something he’s used to and he decides that he fervently hates it. Cleo is so open with her emotions. She has no mask. No ulterior motive. She just is who she is. They would eat her alive in Autumn, but here, in Dawn, it’s normal not to exploit your neighbours’ weaknesses. You wouldn’t even gain anything but a sour reputation if you tried.

“It’s a good thing I came when I did then, isn’t it?” he says without any of his usual sneer. She would kick him out of her house. Has kicked him out, on more than one occasion, for being an asshole.

“Yes, very good,” she spits, pushing herself up, gathering the bloodied rags littered across the sofa. “You need to get inoculated if your father is going to keep poisoning you.”

He can’t do that and she knows it in the same way she knows not to heal his wounds, only to stop them bleeding or getting an infection, because his father likes to see the results of his handiwork. She’s smart enough to have worked that out without him needing to tell her. She’s smart enough to be able to do a lot of things and he wishes he could steal her away for himself, kids himself that he wants her only for her mind. If only he could convince her that she’s wasted here, but even he knows that she isn’t. Cleo does good work. Cleo helps people. Cleo is far too good a person to be in his consistent company.

“I doubt he’d use the same poison twice,” he says. Dart huffs at him as he swings his legs over the edge of the sofa, almost relishing the subsiding ache in his joints. He leans back against the cushions while she cleans her equipment with a flick of the wrist and sends him a glare. 

“One of these days, he’s going to kill you,” she says gently, like she was breaking some bad news he wasn’t already aware of. She perches in front of him on the coffee table and tilts her head, assessing the way he moved in case she needed to heal some unseen injury. Internal bleeding is a favourite of his father’s. “Or else you’re going to die on my sofa and trust me when I say that will be a difficult one to explain to the guards.”

“Shall I provide you with a note to let them know it isn’t your fault?” he drawls, but it’s tinged with something sincere. All of this frank discussion makes Eris uncomfortable. The idea that she might actually be upset if he died sits uneasily in his chest and makes his stomach flip. 

Dart hops up on the sofa, which he isn’t allowed to do, and rests his head in Eris’ lap. When Eris scratches behind his ears, his tail starts again. His smokehounds would eat him alive too. Or else protect him within an inch of each of their lives. Softie.

Cleo drags a hand through her hair, pulling at the tangles she finds. In turn, he shakes the thought that, even when she’s worried, annoyed, angry, she is incontestably beautiful. These are unhelpful things for him to spend his time on. He shouldn’t even be sitting here. He should have already winnowed back to the Autumn Court. Should be preparing to make a miraculous appearance at breakfast and scare his father into thinking that he can truly recover by himself. Should be attempting to reassure his mother that no, he really is fine, no need for concern. Alas, he’s here, lavishing her dog with attention and ignoring the fact that he likes the smell of her living room now that the coppery tang of blood has been cleared away with her magic. 

Eris Vanserra considers himself to be many things, but a fool isn’t one of them. Perhaps he should start reevaluating.

She winces when he shifts and it pains him. “You don’t need me to lecture you,” she says, “but for the love of the Mother, Eris—”

“—see a healer immediately. Yes. I know,” he finishes for her. 

With the haze of the faebane gone, his body recuperating however much blood he lost, he can look at her, really look at her. The tan of her skin seems a little deeper compared with the last time he was here. The definition in her muscles is just a bit more pronounced. She wears a frown which he wants to wipe off her face, and a matching set of a pale green vest and pair of shorts which reveals so much skin he reasons that she simply cannot be meaning to wear that in public. In Autumn, just the fit of her shorts around her waist would be indecent, let alone the cut of the vest. Truly, Dawn Court fashion confounds him.

“You’re in your pyjamas,” he says. He needs the normality of a conversation before he can steel himself to go home.

She raises a brow at him and he takes that as a victory. No more of that frown. “You’re shirtless.”

His state of undress suddenly becomes very, very apparent to him. It’s so pleasantly warm in here that it doesn’t make too much difference to him. It must be summer in the Solar Courts. “I take it my shirt is thoroughly ruined?”

She shrugs. “I’m told ‘tattered and bloodied’ is very in at the moment.Torture-chic.”

He huffs a laugh despite himself; Cleo has that kind of morbid, absurdist humour which appeals to him. It probably has something to do with the fact she deals with dying fae every day.

“Do you want another one or are you planning on scandalising your servants?”

“Firstly,” he says, emphasizing his point by putting up a finger, “they’re maids.” She rolls her eyes as if to say, like that makes any difference. “Secondly, I don’t think any of your shirts will fit.”

The corners of her lips tip up into a ghost of a smile. “Ah. Hang on.” She stands and Dart promptly does the same, meaning to follow her around like a lost puppy as usual. Eris, for just a second before he gets a hold of himself, misses the comfort. In his absence, his cuts start to throb. Cleo calls that the placebo effect and it is infuriating that he’s susceptible to it (“Everyone is, Eris. That’s why they did research on it. If it was only the case in insufferable, idiotic, half-dead—” “Okay, enough. No need to injure me further.” ). She stretches and he averts his eyes from where her vest rides up and shows her midriff. “I’ll be back in a mo’,” she says.

And she disappears upstairs, Dart padding after her. Unequivocally, he does not watch her go, busies himself with taking in the full-extent of what his father subjected him to. It’s not a pretty sight, and though Cleo cleaned him up as much as she could, he’s going to gain some more fairly unpleasant scars. By his guess, it’s going to take a week, maybe more, for these to heal. It was either him or Caelan, and he somewhat finds Caelan tolerable, so he took the knife for him. He had better remember that when the time comes, he thinks.

Though Cleo knows far, far too much to be safe, she doesn’t know anything about his plans to overthrow Beron, and she certainly doesn’t know it’s mere months away. With the coming Autumn equinox, he will crown himself High Lord. Dramatic intent never hurt. After that, he can visit her any time he likes. Maybe she could even come to him…

Cauldron, he’s fucked, isn’t he?

This is all for afterwards. He can’t think like this now. Not when his freedom is so close he can almost taste it and one wrong move will spell not just his death but those of everyone who is counting on him to depose his father. Every spy, every guard in his employ, every maid, cook, and gardener who warn him of his father’s whereabouts and look after his mother when he can’t. Every damned faerie in his damned Court who are sick of Beron’s rule. And Cleo. They’ll probably come for her too for daring to be kind to him all those years ago. 

So, failure isn’t an option.

Eris is broken from his reverie by a white shirt hitting him in the face. He might hate himself for noticing, but it smells like her: freesias and ginger. It is concerning that he has that piece of information tucked away in his brain somewhere. 

He pulls the shirt off his head and glares at her while Dart settles himself next to him. She shoots him the kind of smile that would make his heartbeat dangerously fast if he had the blood to spare. Just as he’s about to pull the shirt over his chest, he hesitates, because this is another male’s shirt. He swears if Cleo has some horribly charming and horrendously attractive partner/lover/whatever else in her life he is going to—

“Relax,” she says, drawing out the word. “It’s my brother’s. He left it here a couple of months ago.”

Damn her for reading him so well. 

Damn himself for being so obvious. And damn the Mother Herself for making him feel so happy about it. He’s the Heir to the Autumn Court and a general threat to anyone stupid enough to cross him—it’s a wonder no sentry of Thesan’s has picked up his presence in the Court—he cannot and will not carve out time in his day to feel content. 

Instead, he starts doing up the buttons and stands, maybe just a little too close to her to be friendly. The slight height advantage he has makes it so she has to look up at him. He enjoys the angle more than he cares to admit. 

“You shouldn’t go around telling members of other Courts when Thesan’s council members sleep on their sisters’ sofas,” he says, working out the roughness in his voice. 

“Why?” she laughs, then she gasps. “Don’t tell me you’re planning on kidnapping my brother and holding him for ransom.”

Eris leaves the top two buttons of the shirt undone. “I hadn’t been,” he says, “but now that you mention it…”

“He’s always wanted to see the Autumn Court, you know.”

“Yes, he’ll get a splendid view from a dungeon cell.”

“You had better give him the finest rags money can buy.”

“They’re all woven from the finest jute, I assure you. The rats who chew the holes have three square meals a day and the shackles are covered in the most exquisite rust that only severely cuts into the skin.”

“Excellent,” she says. “I’ll be sure to tell him you have a surprise for him next time I see him.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

Frankly, Cleo’s brother is a prick, so, if she wanted him put in a dungeon, he would do it for her. Not that he’s offered. Yet.

She lets out a little chuckle and some kind of irresistible impulse wracks through him. 

They’re so close he can see the flecks of green in the blue of her eyes.

If he doesn’t leave soon he’s going to do something stupid like leaning down and kissing her. Then, if he got that far, he might do something even worse like slipping his hand under that fucking vest and finally, finally finding out what she feels like, tastes like, sounds like if… No. So what if he finds her attractive? So what if he hasn’t had a dalliance in years because he can’t stomach the thought of it? It won’t matter if his father kills him or scents her in his hair and goes to great lengths to find her and make him suffer for opening himself up, for being weak.

He tamps down every lingering, heated thought his brain bombards him with and tightens the defenses Cleo so easily pulls down every time he sees her.

“I should return before anyone notices I’m gone,” he says, but he doesn’t quite reach his desired level of harshness. In fact, he almost sounds disappointed.

It irks him that he can’t tell if Cleo feels the same. Instead of perhaps confessing her undying love for him, or calling him some profane name he’s never thought to imagine, she slips past him, straight to the backdoor which leads out to her garden, and gestures outside. “After all this time,” she says, “you’d think you’d know where the door is.” When she opens it, the songs of early-morning birds float through.

The walk feels too short, and he’s finding himself on the threshold of the house far too soon. 

Eris takes a deep breath, inhales the pleasant scent of mid-summer in the Dawn Court, of the flowers which border the back wall of her house and the wisteria tree which hangs over the brick separating the garden from the alleyway in cascading violet. 

He turns back. Slightly. Doesn’t fully turn his body. Their eyes meet.

“Thank you,” he says. Any other words die on his silver tongue. 

Cleo leans against the doorframe. For a moment, she flicks her gaze to the garden, then back to him. She swallows. “You know you don’t have to thank me, Eris,” she says softly, then she smiles again. “Just bring a good bottle of wine next time maybe?”

“You say that like I plan on these visits.”

She exhales a laugh and crosses her arms. “You know what I mean. Now, go, before someone misses you.”

Right. 

Mask on. He wears his ego like armour and his arrogance is sharp like the finest blade in his repertoire. Anyone who makes the mistake of being in his way, of impeding his progress, meets the business end of his endless influence, and no one will find the skeletons in his closet unless he wants them to. He takes what he wants and makes no apologies. He’s a Vanserra; blessed by the Mother with fire and the coppery hair to prove it; he’s born to scheme and lie and cheat his way to the top; he’s built for blood, to betray, betray, betray until he gets what he—

“Eris.”

 Cleo’s hand wraps around his arm before he can take a step. 

This is… they don’t do this. There’s rules for touching each other within the exclusive context of making sure he survives the night. On her sofa, there are no boundaries. Cleo does what she needs to and he lets her because he knows what’s good for him and she’s terrifying when she’s disobeyed. But, this, her hand, on his arm, stopping him, this is stepping over the line. The heat of her seeps through the shirt and it takes a lot of effort not to shiver from the contact.

“I meant what I said,” she continues, her touch lightening a fraction. “Be careful.” He opens his mouth, but she cuts him off. “Promise me you won’t get yourself killed.”

Oh.

Someday, not today, but sometime in the near future, she’s going to say something like that and he’s going to kiss her senseless. For now, he’s settling for her hand on his arm. 

So much for taking what he wants.

“Do you truly think I’m stupid enough to—?”

She narrows her eyes at him and he shuts his mouth. He shuts his eyes like the idea physically pains him.

“You really want me to promise, don’t you?” he asks.

“Yes.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs a long, heavy breath. Composes himself.

“I promise you,” he says, leaning toward her slightly, his voice low, “I won’t get myself killed. Happy?”

Whatever she searches for on his face, she seems to find. Satisfied, she lets go of him. The lack of pressure around his bicep feels wrong.

“Very,” she says. “Okay. Go.” A nod to the little wooden door that leads to the alleyway and out of the wards which surround the house. “And take pain tonics if it gets too much. I don’t care if they’re illegal in Autumn. That’s a shit law and you should repeal it.”

He plans to.

They don’t say goodbye. They never do. Some traditions will never change. There’s too much finality in the word, and they settle for no farewell at all, like the next time they see each other will simply be a continuation of the previous meeting. On-going. A constant in the background. 

With every step, he rebuilds his mask. By the time he’s home, it’ll feel normal again. Like second nature.

Even as he enters the alley, Eris doesn’t look back. Still, he knows she’s watching him go, and she won’t go back inside until she’s sure he’s winnowed away. 

a/n: am i potentially going to make this a series of one-shots? maybe

[mischiefmanagers]

Eris Vanserra Fic Rec Library 🍁❤️‍🔥

these fics are a mix of Eris x reader, Eris x OC, and a few general Eris fics with no pairing. if you've never read an Eris fic before, I highly recommend starting with the first rec below (gust & flame) because that fic made me fall in love with him. enjoy ✨

🌼 personal favorite 🥀 angst 💞 fluff 🔥 smut

by @invisibleanonymousmonsters

gust & flame (series) 🥀💞🌼

by @theostrophywife

here in your arms. 💞

like you wanna be loved 💞

by @acourtofmenandthirst

The Fox & The Hound 💞

by @leafsandstarlight

Destiny's Battleground (series) 🥀💞🔥

In Spite of Our Differences (series) 🥀💞🔥🌼

Great Rite 🔥

The Prince of Blood

by @profound-imagination

Finding Home 💞

Rose Gardens

by @munsons-hellfire

Happiness in the Heart 🥀💞

by @sweetcarolina-24

Scorched Shadows

by @azrielbrainrot

Fire on Fire

Mind Over Matter 🥀

by @danikamariewrites

Rescue 💞🥀

Fake Sleeper 💞

Peace 💞

Seekers 💞🌼

Did You Just Say No?

Song of Death

Starfall Revelations 🥀💞

Guilt 🥀💞

Kisses 💞

by @redbleedingrose

Till the End of Time 💞🥀

Pretty? 🥀💞

by @b0xerdancer-writes

It Wasn't Supposed to Happen Like This 🥀💞

by @thisblogisaboutabook

Bad Idea, Right? 🥀🔥

by @azsazz

Cherries, Juniper, and Orange Slices 💞

Fire & Water 🥀🔥

by @honeybeefae

Cauldron Fated 💞🥀🔥🌼

Forgotten Ties 🥀

Valentine's Mini Fic 💞

A Court of Wings & Fire (series) 🥀

Past and Present 🥀💞

Coronation Day 💞

Potions 🔥🌼

by @we-were-beautiful

The Fox and the Hounds 💞

by @bubbles-for-all-of-us

My little flame 💞

Her 🌼

My tears ricochet 🥀

by @2thestars-andbeyond

The Fire That Burns Within (series) 💞🥀🔥

by @simkaswriting

What if…Eris had danced with y/n instead?

by @jeannineee

Daylight 🥀💞

Breeding 🔥

by @jdeclerc

a brother's intervention 🥀

by @azrielsdove

Playing With Fire 🥀🔥Azriel x Reader x Eris

by @cassiefromhell

Unexpected 💞🥀🔥Azriel x Reader x Eris

by @fieldofdaisiies

Late Again 🥀

Brother 🥀💞 no pairing

Falling 💞🌼

by @azrielsoulmate

Covered in you 💞

by @cupidojenphrodite

Morning After 🔥

by @acourtofwhatthefuck

Loose Lips 🥀🔥

by @thelov3lybookworm

Remember me? (series) 💞🥀 from Rhysand x Reader to Eris x Reader

Bloodshed 🥀💞

Not what I expected 🥀💞🌼

by @fineghkst

How Eris acts around his mate 💞

by @ladyescapism

fractured bonds 🥀

by @clairebear08

Woven 🥀

Use Me 🔥

by @historiaxvanserra

If I Can't Have Love, I Want Power 🥀🌼

I Am Not a Martyr, I'm a Problem

by @shadowdaddies

Autumn's Eden 💞

Bramble 💞

by @azrielslightintheshadows

Fake love. 🥀

by @crypticandmachiavellianaugustine

Sweet Nothings 💞🌼

by @readychilledwine

Death of Peace of Mind 🥀🔥🌼

Safe Haven 💞

Relief

Unconditional 💞

Leap 💞🌼

Kissed By Fire

Lapcat 🔥

Pack Mentality 💞

Tainted Love 🥀

by @throneofsmut

Bound In Flames (series) 🥀💞🔥

by @parkerslatte

Overlooked 🥀🌼

Warm Me Up 💞🔥

by @prythianpages

Like An Angel 💞

Cruel, Wicked Thing

by @saphirered

Frozen lake 🔥💞

by @thehighladywrites

Professor Eris 🥀💞🔥

by @thevanserrras

Breaking Point 🥀

Den of Foxes 🥀💞

Happy Equinox at Last 💞

Wake Up 🥀💞 Azriel x Reader x Eris

Petty 🥀💞

by @secret-third-thing

Never An Honest Word 🥀 no pairing

by @nocasdatsgay

From the Ashes, the Wildflowers Grow (series) 🥀💞🔥🌼

by @lucienforhighking

Hounds of Love 💞

Dancing 💞🔥

by @callmeblaire

when fire and ice dance

by @moonlightazriel

Symphonies 💞

When no one hears your calls 🥀💞

by @sellyoursoulforagoodfic

Monstrous Secrets 🥀💞

by @florencemtrash

Flame, Shadow, Beast 🥀💞 Azriel x Reader x Eris

by @serpentandlily

Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny (series) 🌼

Last Solstice 🥀💞🌼

by @fever-fluff

Unconditional

by @yearning-for-autumn

Would That I

[fantasydreamland]

A Dance of Forbidden Fire

eris vanserra x fem reader

Summary: You attend the winter solstice ball at the Night Court with your sisters Feyre and Nesta. The plan was for Nesta to seduce Eris with her dancing skills, but instead he asks for your hand. As you dance away into the night you cannot fight the feeling that he is your mate.

Notes: 18+ only! Slight suggestive smut, forbidden love, tension, angst, fluff, spoilers, bolded words taken directly from the chapter & belong to sarah j maas

(y/n kinda replaces Elain in the story - Based on chapter 57 of ACOSF)

this is the scene that really sparked my random crush on eris 💃

Word count: 1.9k

PART TWO

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The ball began after Feyre and Rhysand arrived and took their places on their thrones. You and Nesta took your places on either side of them, both wearing similar black gowns. You wore a low cut style that accentuated your cleavage, and an open back, leaving much of your skin exposed.

Eris came to greet you all, the first time you had ever seen him, having remained mainly inside the house since being Made. Though you had heard plenty about him. You knew he was the son of Beron and the heir to Autumn court. You knew he was cunning, and self centred, and deceitful, and arrogant. And of course the story with Morrigan. Your family allied with him because they needed to, but they have made it clear to you that they did not trust him in the slightest.

They had failed to mention just how gorgeous he was. He was as if a perfect autumn leaf transformed into a devilishly handsome male. His long firey orange hair was styled neatly behind his pointed ears, freckles scattered across his sun kissed skin, and a cocky smirk formed on his lips. But it was his piercing amber eyes that took your breath away the moment they connected with yours. You both held silent that eye contact for a short moment that felt like a small eternity before he seemed to shake his head to focus back on Rhys and Feyre.

The High Lord and Lady presented Eris with a solstice gift, his eyes seeming to keep flicking over to you during the entire time they spoke. Feyre ended the conversation by explaining she could not offer her hand to Eris for a dance, due to her condition.

“My older sister shall take my place.” Feyre says to him, gesturing to Nesta.

“Actually, my High Lady… I would like to ask for (y/n)’s hand. If she would care to join me, of course.” He says overly politely before looking to you.

Feyre and Nesta both look over at you, you meet their worried eyes briefly before turning your attention back to Eris.

“It would be my pleasure.” You offer a small smile as you step towards him, deciding to carry out the plan yourself.

Cassian tries to hide his relief as Eris walks you to the dance floor instead of Nesta.

Others watched from the sidelines as the dance finished and the introductory strains of the next began, a harp strumming high and sweet. Eris extended a hand, a half smile on his mouth.

You place your hand in his. The feeling of your skin connecting sent electricity throughout your body. Percussion and horns blasted; low stronger instruments started a rushing strike of music. A summons to the dance in a countdown to movement.

Eris slid his broad hand over your waist, tucking you in close. His slender fingers seeming to warmly burn into the bare skin of your back. You lifted your chin, looking up into his face. The moment your eyes connect up close, you feel it, the tug in your chest, a strong magnetic pull of your heart towards his. The sudden wild look in his amber eyes told you he felt it too. Even the smell of him seemed to overwhelm your senses. He smelt like… cedar, and a rainy day, and a hint of something sweeter like vanilla, an addictive smell you wanted to bury yourself in.

He does not miss the heavy rise of your bosom as you take a slow deep breath trying to compose yourself, his eyes dart back to yours and the dance begins. You move to the music, becoming completely lost in it. You have always danced well, you would not consider yourself an expert like Nesta, but following Eris’s lead felt as easy as water flowing through a silent stream. You seemed to fit perfectly in his arms, like you were meant to be there. You dance together as one, moving in perfect harmony, your eyes never parting once except the brief seconds between twirls. His presence had your cheeks and ears burning red, your breathing difficult, and your heart absolutely racing.

You let Eris lead you into the next dance as a new song began. It was a lighter, easier dance than the first.

Eris’s amber eyes studied yours. “Trust Rhysand to keep you hidden away.”

“I’m afraid I am the one who has kept myself hidden away...” You respond, it was the truth, despite your families efforts you kept yourself isolated for a long time after being Made.

“Understandably so.” He says, his expression turned more serious, sympathetic. “I can hardly imagine what you went through with… the Cauldron.” The last word coming out as almost a whisper.

“Yes…” You breathed, the only response you could manage as you tried to shove those memories aside.

Eris spun you, and when you returned to him, he murmured in your ear, “Don’t believe the lies they tell you about me.” His breath on your skin leaving goosebumps in its wake.

You pull back just enough to meet his gaze. “Oh?”

Eris nodded to where Mor watched them from beside Feyre and Rhys, her face neutral and aloof. “She knows the trust but has never revealed it.”

“Why?”

“Because she is afraid of it.”

You didn’t pry further about the details but it did make you question what you have been told about him, and that maybe there was more to the story. The man in front of you did not seem like the monster you had pictured. It made you curious about his perspective, about his life.

You chatted a little more throughout the song, getting to know a bit about eachother. Not just the facts that everyone already knows but small things deeper than that. He asked you about your favourite season and you admit it has always been autumn. When you were human you would count down the days for the chilled weather and colourful leafs. The crunch of leafs beneath your feet, and cozy sweaters, and pumpkins, and warm ciders. You have always loved everything about the season.

“It almost seems like you belong in Autumn, interesting...” Eris says with a sly smirk.

You blush in response earning a wider smirk from him. The dance continues on in silence, only exchanging occasional small smiles between you.

You follow his lead into a third song, this one much slower, more romantic. You sway and twirl together around the dance floor. No more words are exchanged between you but so much is said through your deeply connected eyes. The entire ball fades into the background, no one else existed in this moment. It felt like you were the only two beings in the room, in the world. Being in his alluring presence, his hot skin touching yours, his firey eyes staring into your very soul… it felt like he had you completely under a spell as you danced and danced.

The song finishes with a final twirl, then holding onto your connected hands as the other is outstretched behind you in an elegant pose. As the song comes to a close Eris pulls you back against him, even tighter than before, your bodies pressed firmly together while his fingers pressed firmer into your skin. You were so close that when you lift your head to meet his eyes again your noses lightly brush. You freeze, his tempting lips just a mere breath away. You swear you can feel his heart thundering against your body like a brutal storm, or perhaps that was your own.

Still under his spell, you lean in and almost connect your lips before the beginning of new song makes you come to your senses and pull away from him with a small gasp.

“Are you alright?” Eris asks you with genuine concern.

“Yes, I- forgive me. I… I just need a moment to freshen up. Please excuse me.” You babble before you nearly run off the dance floor and away from him before you could even hear his response.

You rush down the hallway and find a washroom, quickly slamming the door closed behind you as you let out a heavy breath. Your heart was still racing and your skin burning hot like a raging fire as you try to collect your thoughts. The undeniable connection you felt with him, even now you feel as if some force is pulling you back to the ballroom, back to him. Was he?… He couldn’t be… No. The ‘ally’ whom your family detests could not be your… mate. No.

You take another deep shakey breath before returning to the room and take your place back by Rhysand and Feyre, eyeing the dance floor in search of Eris.

“Well done (y/n). Eris is quite taken with you.” Rhysand says quietly with a smirk, the mere mention of his name causing breath to shorten again. “We were a little concerned when we saw you basically bolt out of the room but he seems to truly believe he has a chance with you.” He chuckles in a scoff.

You laugh nervously. “Yes, well, he is a fool...”

“You can say that again.” Cassian chuckles as he rolls his eyes.

The nervousness bubbles in you again as you’re reminded how much your family dislikes Eris. Then he comes into your view from across the room, his firey eyes catching yours instantly. Your heart raced at the thought of going back on the dance floor, he was pure temptation you were terrified you would not be able to stop yourself.

“I am actually not feeling too well, I think all the dancing has made me light headed.” You turn to Feyre, lightly hold your stomach. “I’m beginning to feel a bit nauseous.”

“Please, go on home then (y/n). Get some rest. You have already done wonderfully tonight.” Feyre offers a soft smile.

You offer a curtsy to the High Lord and Lady before departing. You quickly turn to leave and nearly crash right into Eris.

“Woah there, you alright (y/n)?” He asks with his usual sly smirk.

“Yes, sorry um, please forgive me... I’m afraid I am feeling rather, um, unwell, and must retire early.” You ramble as you begin to get lost in his fierce eyes once again.

“Oh, yes, of course.” He says with a serious face before turning back into his wicked expression as he takes your hand in his. “I do hope we see eachother again soon. (Y/n)…” He slowly empathizes your name in a low voice, sending shivers up your spine, before placing a kiss to your hand.

You gulp before responding. “I look forward to it. Eris…” His name rolls off your tongue in a whispery breath and you notice how it makes his breath quicken and eyes darken.

You rush through the crowd towards the exit, looking back only once to Eris who has not taken his eyes off you. You feel the pull in your chest again as your eyes connected for a long moment before you find the strength to look away and leave the palace.

The days following felt like a blur. You tried to ignore them but your thoughts remained full of Eris, somehow still deeply under his spell even though he was nowhere near you. You could not stop thinking of everything about that enchanting night, about that enchanting man, your… mate. Whom you desperately yearned to see again.

*

I imagine the final dance to this song ~

PART TWO

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[yourlittlebunnyy]

sweet request - eris x reader

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summary: Eris wants to see you pregnant with his child.

warnings: none i think?

w/c: 1k

You have tied the knot with the mighty High Lord of the Autumn Court, Eris Vanserra, ever since the day you discovered your status as mates. Currently, you're occupied with your newly acquired duties as High Lady. This allows Eris to be alone with his thoughts, and his mind is consumed by the desire to see you carry his heir.

Later, you make your way back. "My dear." Eris gently holds your face and says, "I would like to discuss something with you." He smiles. Instinctively you reach out your arms to encircle his neck, holding him close to you. It was hard for you to get used to spending all day divided from your mate, but you had to do it. When Eris became High Lord, a lot of things changed in the Autumn Court, including the power of females: you first wished to be an example for all undervalued, abused and exploited Fae and decided to work and toil as hard as Eris. This allowed many other females to emulate you, feeling free to make their own choices, and the Autumn Court slowly began to change its mindset.

But all this, of course, took time and effort, not allowing you to spend much time with your beloved. Eris’ grin widened as you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close. He loved to feel you close again, after a whole day of being apart. He was happy that you were taking your status of High Lady so serious. But even he could see how much it was wearing down on you. Eris’ expression quickly changed into that of worry and concern as his eyes slowly looked over your tired body, noticing the bags under your eyes.

“Darling, are you tired?” The Autumn Court High Lord questioned, his hands gently cupping your face.

His concern tugs at your heart, and you can't help but smile at him. Eris has always been an outstanding mate, and before that, a friend always willing to help you.

"No, no. Don't worry. What did you want to tell me, you, rather?" You ask, returning the conversation to the question he had asked you just moments ago.

Eris knew you were lying, and it took everything he had in him to not call you out on that. He took a deep breath, knowing that if he would push it, it wouldn’t end well. He caresses your cheek, a frown on his lips as he sighed out quietly.

“Just something I’ve been thinking about.” He said, his hand now gently moving down to your hip, caressing it with his thumb. He was quiet for a second, as if mentally preparing himself for what he wanted to say next.

It was not often that Eris was... nervous. Sure, sometimes he is agitated, sometimes he is sad. But he was never... afraid to tell you something. In fact, once he was, you remember pleasantly.

Eris was the first to sense your bond, and that very afternoon he ran to you to reveal it, not wanting to lie to you and giving you a choice. He was nervous that afternoon, just as he is now. You wonder what was left so 'unsaid' between you that made him so uncertain.

"Hmm, and what is that?" You ask as you place a hand on his that was already resting on your cheek, an encouraging smile opens on your lips, inviting him to speak.

Eris took another deep breath. He was so nervous. No he was terrified. How would you react. He swallowed down the lump in his throat, his eyes locking onto yours, seeing the encouraging smile that you adorned on your beautiful lips. He couldn’t help but fall a little more in love with you.

“It’s something that I want.” He began. His heart was racing, but he couldn’t show weakness. He needed to remain calm. No matter the outcome.

Eris knows how much effort you are putting into your new role, and he does not want his request to prevent you from doing what you like, or worse-that you feel obligated to do what he wants just for him. If you were going to have a child, it would be at the behest of both of you; Eris would not agree otherwise.

"Well, love, you are a High Lord, I could say you can have anything you want." Your partner chuckles, but it doesn't calm his nerves. The hand resting on your hip fiddles with your dress, and it does not go unnoticed.

It felt like you were setting him up for rejection. But he couldn’t think like that. He can’t give up before he even tried. He looked down, away from your eyes now, a look of doubt in his brown-amber eyes. He inhaled deeply, as if to give himself courage to continue.

"Anything?" He questioned as his hand stopped moving on your hip. His heart rate picked up again.

Eris could see the worries that were starting to cross your mind. He knew a lot of scenarios were now playing out in your mind, and it pained him to know you thought he didn’t want you. That, by Gods, was the last thing he wanted you to think. He let out a small breath, and quickly brought a hand up to stroke your chin with his thumb. “Hey, stop thinking.” He muttered. “Just-“ A pause, as he tried to gather the words he wanted to say next.

"Please, love. Just say it, okay?"

He was quiet for another few seconds, mentally preparing himself once more. But he knew you wanted him to just spill it. He took a deep breath, and finally said what was on his mind.

“I want to see you pregnant.” He said. His cheeks heating up as he did so. He didn’t know why he was so nervous. It shouldn’t be a hard request for you to satisfy.

Your heart loses a beat as a mix of emotions takes over you. If that's really what he wanted to tell you, then you don't understand why he's so nervous. A slight chuckle escapes you, making Eris confused. Are you laughing at him, or at his request?

After a small moment when you recover, you take his hands in yours and look him straight in the eye. You make sure to send him as much love and comfort as you can through bonding, and smile sweetly when he reciprocates with the same emotions.

"So, you want a child? With me?" You ask shaking his hands, Eris smiles.

He was confused. He had been dreading telling you this, dreading your rejection, and he had expected a different reaction coming from you. But there you were instead, trying to hold back a laugh. He almost pouted at that. And was about to, if it wasn’t for you taking his hands in yours, and staring into his eyes. For a second his heart stopped. But it started up again as your love through the bond hit him.

He knew he had been worrying for no reason. He always did.

“With you.” He confirmed, his smirk returning again.

You smile again at his words.

He smiled back at you, before he gently used his hands to tilt your head back by your chin. He slowly started walking you backwards, gently pushing you towards the wall behind you, as his smirk slowly turned into a devilish grin. Once your back hit the wall, he leaned forwards, and spoke in a tone that left no room for any disobedience.

“I suppose I’ll have to put a baby in you now, won’t I?”

[lavendel081]

[aviyne]

Eris and Lana