#high lord eris x rhys!sister!reader x azriel | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

serpentandlily · 10 months ago

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Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny III

Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny - Eris x Archeron!Reader

Summary: You find yourself ensnared by a sly, cunning fox. A very handsome, irritating one.

Warnings: none

a/n: hope you enjoy this one just as much as the others!

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

Part III

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

“That was…weird,” Mor remarked.

You agreed. You had no idea what to make of Eris’s behavior. Feyre and Rhys seemed to be locked in a mental conversation, leaving the rest of you to silence. You rubbed at your arm, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. You didn’t want to create any problems for your sister but you also didn’t want to leave.

“He had a point,” Rhys finally said before looking at you with those violet eyes that reminded you far too much of a certain pair of amber ones. They both held too many secrets. “But I don’t think Beron will prove to be much of a problem as long as we keep his focus on other things.”

Feyre nodded along. “Besides, what is Beron going to do about it, anyways? Short of killing us, there is nothing to be done.”

You felt a flicker of fear but pushed it down. Rhys was the most powerful High Lord. Surely he would defend you and your sister if it came down to it. Feyre was also powerful in her own right and could fight for herself but you…

“We won’t let any harm come to you,” Rhys promised, his voice softening. “And what did I say about keeping those mental shields up?”

You turned red and quickly slammed the gates to your mind closed.

“I would like to stay,” you mumbled, sheepishly. “But I don’t want to cause problems.”

Mor waved a dismissive hand. “Nonsense. Eris talks out of his ass most of the time. He probably just wanted to put us on edge. You being here is not a problem, doll.”

You didn’t feel comforted in the slightest.

“Well, if that's settled,” Rhys said, standing up. “I believe it is time for us to make our way towards the meeting room.”

You let out a breath, trying to settle your nerves from Eris’s display. Feyre gave you a small smile, linking her arm through yours. “Don’t look so nervous. There’s going to be some friendly faces in the crowd.”

You nodded, still feeling anxious about the whole thing. Although you hardly considered Vassa and Jurian your friends, at least you were familiar with them. Unfortunately, you were also familiar enough with Lord Nolan and his son.

Feyre placed her other hand in Rhys’s extended elbow and the two of them led you out of the chambers and into the wide corridor. Your breaths were still shaky once your group got to the staircase that would lead you to the meeting room with the reflection pool.

Feyre unwrapped her arm from yours and Azriel stepped forward instead.

“Azriel is going to escort you in,” she explained. “If you feel nervous, just stay by his side. Okay?”

You gave her a small nod and let them lead the way forward. When your group finally reached the top of the staircase, you were a bit relieved to see that the Autumn Court wasn’t present yet. Your eyes darted around the room, landing on all the various High Lords and their entourages, trying to place them in their respective courts.

“That right there is Tarquin,” Azriel whispered from beside you, following your eyesight. “High Lord of Summer.”

“And him?”

“Kallias, High Lord of Winter. His wife and mate, Vivianne, is the female next to him.”

“Another High Lady?”

“Not quite,” Azriel answered. He inclined his head towards a different group. “That’s Helion, High Lord of the Day Court.”

The male he nodded to was quickly approaching your group, a serpentine smile on his face. Gods, you were still not quite used to how beautiful the fae were. Helion looked like a God in his own right. His eyes passed over your group until they landed on you and lingered for a second longer.

You watched as he greeted Feyre, Rhysand and Mor before turning his head towards you and Azriel.

“Shadowsinger,” he nearly purred, “Always happy to see you.”

Azriel didn’t smile, didn’t move. In fact, he shot the High Lord an exasperated look as if this flirtatious behavior was all too common. That didn’t stop you from blushing when the High Lord looked at you and smiled coyly.

“And who might you be?”

He reached out a hand but before you could open your mouth, the High Lord was suddenly knocked to the side, stumbling over himself.

“My apologies, High Lord,” Eris sneered at Helion. “Perhaps you shouldn’t stand in the middle of a walkway.”

Eris strode away before Helion could even respond, his brothers trailing after him, glaring around the room. Your jaw nearly dropped at his audacity but you quickly schooled your face, watching Helion glare at their backs. He seemed to shake off the encounter quickly, his charming persona snapping back into place as your sister came up on your side.

“Helion,” she said, “this is my sister, Y/n. She’s here to help us discuss the peace treaty with the humans.”

Your introduction with Helion was short lived as Thesan called for the start of the meeting now that everyone was here. The first half of the meeting was just with the fae before the human leaders were to be brought in. Since you were primarily there for the humans, your thoughts drifted away as the fae leaders began their discussions.

Your eyes trailed over all the courts—taking interest in how different each fae looked depending on where they came from. But your gaze kept falling on one fae in particular. The red headed male sat behind his daunting father. He hadn’t once looked in your direction. Part of you was glad for it, because it would be embarrassing to be caught blatantly staring at him as you were. Another part of you longed for him to look your way… You had no idea where that feeling came from.

Eris was dressed far more formally than he had been the last two times you had seen him. He wore a dark green vest stitched with golden thread, tiny leaves embroidered along the seams, on top of a cream button up. A golden fox brooch was pinned at the neck of his collar, probably the Vanserra family’s emblem. His pants were an even darker green, almost appearing black and neatly tucked into his boots. Around his shoulders was a matching green cape coat embellished in gold detailing much like his vest.

His red hair looked like a raging fire next to all the green, his pale skin glistening in the soft lighting of the room. He was so distractingly beautiful, even with that familiar haughty smirk on his face. It didn’t matter that there were far more powerful, commanding fae in the room. Your eyes could not keep off him.

Like a moth to flame.

Eris’s honey amber eyes finally met yours and you felt something snapped inside of you. You gasped as a golden thread unraveled within you and shot out across the room—all the way to the male seated across from you….all the way to Eris.

Mate.

The word clanged through your head, drowning all other thoughts.

Mate.

Eris was your mate.

In your shock, you missed the warning look Eris shot your way. You gasped, loudly, drawing the attention of the room as you stood so suddenly, your chair was knocked to the ground behind you. Your heart was pounding in your chest, that golden thread thrumming with sparks of flame.

Your sister quickly rose from her seat, placing a hand on your upper arm to steady you. Azriel too had jumped up, his hand ghosting over Truth-teller, as if ready for whatever invisible threat was occuring.

Eris stood abruptly, almost panting. Your eyes never left those amber ones. Not even as they seemed to plead with you to sit, to hide, to disappear from this room entirely.

“What’s wrong?” Feyre asked, her voice hurried and filled with concern. Her eyes followed your line of sight and darted back to you and down to the hand you held to your chest.

Rhysand seemed to catch on to what was happening quicker.

“Azriel, get her out of here,” he ordered the shadowsinger.

A scarred hand wrapped around yours and a second later, you were engulfed in a wave of shadows.

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

“Rhysand,” Thesan said, “Please answer for that display. What antics have occurred in your court to disrupt such a meeting?”

Feyre’s hands were shaking as Rhysand latched onto them, guiding her back to her chair softly. “Apologies, Y/n is still a bit sensitive to magic since coming out of the cauldron. You’ll have to forgive her sudden departure.”

“And here I thought you had moved on from your lying and deceiving ways, Rhysand,” Beron jumped in, his voice filled with wicked amusement. “It appears a congratulation is in order.” He turned to face his son. “It seems to me that a mating bond has just snapped into place.”

Eris’s face was unreadable as he sat back down, fists clenched at his sides.

“Explain yourselves,” Tarquin interjected, looking bemused. “How do you have another Made female in your court, Rhysand?”

“She is my sister,” Feyre declared. “And she was there the day Hybern forced all of them into the cauldron.”

“Why was she not included in the reports from that day?” Thesan asked, sitting up straighter.

“She was under our protection,” Rhysand answered. “She was hardly more than a child at the time.”

“Liar. She never came out of the cauldron,” Tamlin said, sharply, eyes narrowing. “Your reports never included her because she never came out of the cauldron that day.”

“Well, considering you all just saw her alive and in person,” Rhysand shrugged, picking a piece of lint from his coat. “Obviously, she did. Perhaps your head was too far up Hybern’s ass to see.”

Tamlin growled but was cut off by Beron.

“Where have you taken my son’s mate?” Beron demanded.

“That is none of your concern.”

“Rhysand, you cannot possibly keep her away from her mate,” Thesan said. “He is entitled—”

“He is entitled to nothing,” Feyre snapped. “The Night Court does not force females to accept mating bonds. As she falls under our jurisdiction, she has our full protection against any of your antiquated beliefs.”

“Leave it to the Night Court to spit on traditions,” Beron hissed. “A mating bond works both ways. As the other half falls under my jurisdiction, my son has all the right to invoke a blood duel if you wish to keep her from him.”

The Lady of Autumn looked alarmed at her husband’s words but said nothing. Neither did Eris, who seemed to be choosing his next moves very carefully.

“Wouldn’t be the first time the Night Court stole a female away,” Tamlin said, sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

“Oh please, spare us from revisiting your despair,” Helion chuckled, humorlessly.

“Have we all forgotten why we are here today?” Kallias cut in, his tone cold. “Must we argue over something that does not involve the rest of our courts? This meeting has already been derailed and some of us have better things to do with our time then listen to squabbles.”

“This is not over, Rhysand,” Beron hissed. Eris still sat stoically behind his father, not faltering in the slightest. “You and I have much to discuss after we deal with the humans lest you wish to start a conflict between our courts.”

“Fine,” Rhysand growled. “But prepare yourself and your son for disappointment.”

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

You paced in the sitting room in the River House, your heart still beating rapidly, your thoughts out of control. A mating bond. A godsdamn mating bond had snapped between you and Eris of all people. Eris, the male whose reputation followed him like darkened clouds. Eris, the male who had left Mor to die in the woods all those years ago. Eris, the Heir of Autumn, the son of one of the most ruthless fae in all of Prythian.

Surely it was a mistake. It had to be.

“Why don’t you sit down?” Elain suggested, gently, patting the cushion beside her on the couch. “Feyre will get it all sorted out. You needn’t worry so much.”

“How can I not worry? How can I not worry when Eris of all people is my mate, Elain?” You rubbed at your chest, already feeling an emptiness there now that you had been separated from him. “This must be a mistake. A trick, perhaps?”

“Perhaps,” Elain agreed, though she didn’t sound like she believed it for one second. “But there’s not much you can do about it now. Not until they return from the meeting.”

You let out a long breath and plopped onto the couch next to her. Elain brushed a hand through your hair, guiding you to lay down on her lap. “It’ll be okay, Y/n. A mating bond isn’t the end of all things. Feyre would never let that male get his hands on you.”

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? Some part of you wanted that male. Not the Eris that the others saw. But the one you had seen in those secret moments between the two of you. The alluring fox behind the mask.

Your heart sang for him now that the mating bond had snapped into place. He hadn’t seemed surprised in the slightest….like he had already known about it. Had it snapped for him? Had he known this whole time that you were his mate? Why wouldn’t he tell you? Maybe…

maybe he didn’t want you…

Hours went by. The whole night passed. You didn’t stray from the couch, neither did Elain. You appreciated your sister comforting you. You wished Nesta wasn’t on her mating vacation and was here to help you as well…maybe she would know what to do.

The door to the house opening had you sitting up, rubbing at your red rimmed eyes. Elain woke abruptly as well, wiping the drool that was dribbling from the corner of her mouth. Feyre, Rhysand and Mor strode in, all looking just as exhausted as you.

“Well, I’m glad that shitshow is over,” Mor said, falling on one of the settees dramatically.

A second later, Amren and Azriel came into the room, both wearing unreadable expressions. Amren’s silver eyes studied you for a moment before moving to Feyre and Rhysand.

“How’d it go?”

“Awful,” Rhysand sighed. “No one could come to an agreement.”

“Did the humans not want to sign?” You asked, purposefully avoiding the other topic.

Feyre shook her head. “No, they were…even less receptive than we thought they’d be.”

“What happens now?” Elain asked.

“We go through that again and again, I suppose,” Rhys answered. “Until a peace treaty is signed.”

The room fell into a heavy silence until you broke it, minutes later.

“And…and what of…” You trailed off, unable to say the words, unable to ask about the male that had been on your mind since you had been whisked away from the meeting.

“Beron will be visiting the Court of Nightmares tomorrow,” Rhys said, hesitantly, gauging your emotions. “To discuss what is to be done. It is unfortunate that he knows about the bond now because there is little Eris can do as long as his father is in power.”

“He can finally kill the bastard,” Mor grumbled into a pillow.

“We must tread carefully,” Amren said. “If Eris is forced to call for a blood duel against Rhysand, he will die and one of his brutish brothers will be next in line for the throne.”

“What!” You exclaimed. “A blood duel? Would he…would he really do that? Fight Rhysand even if it means certain death?”

Eris was powerful, sure. But he was still only an heir, not a full blown High Lord like Rhysand. He would be misted in seconds. Just that thought of it sent you into a panic.

“I’ll fight him in your place,” Azriel said, darkly, looking at Rhys but he shook his head.

“We cannot risk that,” Rhys said.

“Do you really think Beron would have his own son fight and die in a blood duel?” Feyre asked.

“Of course he would. One less person he has to keep off his throne,” Amren said.

“He’s a monster,” Elain whispered, staring at you with concern.

“Yes, he is,” Rhys sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “So we must do as Amren said and tread very carefully.”

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

The next day, you stood in the foyer of the River House, dressed in a simple dark blue, silk dress. Your stomach was tossing and turning with nerves, scared of what would happen during this meeting with Beron. You hated that you were causing your sister and Rhysand so much stress, hated that you were in the middle of this conflict.

You wished you could turn back time. Wished you could go back to that moment the mating bond snapped so you could hide the realization better. You had always worn your heart on your sleeve and it had finally bit you in the ass.

You had no idea how today was going to play out.

You were certain of one thing, though. You ached to see Eris again. The mating bond had nearly kept you up all night. Feyre had tried teaching you how to block if off, but it was hard. Eris seemed to have no problem keeping his side of the bond locked down. It infuriated you to know he was probably feeling every single emotion from you.

“Are you ready?” Rhys asked as Feyre, Mor and Azriel slid into view.

Rhys and Feyre were dressed like they always were when making trips to Hewn City. Mor wore a scandalous red dress that clung to her beautiful curves and Azriel wore his Illyrian leathers, as per usual, all seven siphons on display.

You nodded, unable to even speak.

The next hour seemed to happen while you were stuck in a daze. Rhys winnowed you all to Hewn City and led you into the throne room where everyone was waiting. Word must’ve spread quickly of what had occurred. Keir escorted Beron and Eris into the throne room after the formalities were done.

You couldn’t find the nerve to look at Eris now that you were in the same room. You had shown your hand during that meeting and had caused an avalanche to fall in its wake. You felt guilty, ashamed and scared…so scared.

A dumb bunny, indeed.

Rhys and Feyre led you all to a private meeting room, shutting the door in Keir’s face as he tried to join. You sat, hiding your shaking hands in your lap, keeping your eyes on the floor.

“Well, I assume you have come to your senses by now,” Beron said, leaning back in his chair as if he commanded the room. “The girl comes with us. The Night Court owes Autumn a bride as it is.”

His glare focused on Mor for a moment and she scoffed in his direction.

“Not so fast, Beron,” Rhysand tsked, pouring himself a glass of wine. “We don’t owe you anything. It was your court that ultimately broke the marriage agreement all those years ago.”

Beron sat up with a sneer. “I believe it was broken the moment that girl decided to whore herself out to an Illyrian bastard of all people.”

You tensed in your seat, gripping the dress in your fists.

“Father, please,” Eris sighed, making you look up at him finally.

Beron glanced at his son before turning back to Rhysand. “You should be overjoyed that we’re willing to take the girl as it is, considering the beasts in your court have probably ran through her already.”

“Watch your mouth,” Feyre snapped.

The smell of burning wood filled the room and Eris flexed his hands, new scorch marks on the table underneath them. “Don’t speak of her like that.”

Beron laughed. It was an awful sound. “Right, my apologies, son. Don’t worry, those mating instincts will go away once you’ve fucked her for a near century.”

Your face turned bright red at the crude words. Eris growled. The sound was so primitive, so animalistic. It sent chills down your spine. Even Beron looked unnerved for a moment.

“You are not winning yourself any favors,” Rhysand purred, smirking at the older male. “Have you any dignity?”

“Have you?” Beron bit back. “You all but spit on the face of the Mother by keeping her away from her mate. This is more of a blessing for you then it is us. A marriage alliance with Autumn, one you do not deserve that we are graciously offering.”

“Let me make myself clear, Beron, since you refuse to listen,” Rhysand snapped. “Our court has no laws that require a female to accept a bond. You would really go to war over something like this? While our courts are still recovering from the last one?”

Rhys and Feyre had theorized that Beron was so adamant about forcing you into the bond not because he cared for his son, but for two other reasons. One, you were Made. They had all seen how powerful Nesta was because of it and Beron craved power above all else.

Two, it was another way to keep Eris in check. To dangle you over his head as a threat.

“Perhaps we should ask what she wants,” Mor interjected.

“What she wants does not matter,” Beron snarled. “She is mated to an Autumn male, by our laws she must accept.”

“She is a resident of our court,” Feyre argued back. “She does not have to accept it.”

“Then you leave us no choice,” Beron said, rising from his seat. He planted his palms on the table, staring at you all of a sudden. You crumbled into yourself. “Is that what you want, girl? You want us to declare a blood duel against your family?”

You shook your head as Rhysand stood, slamming his own hands on the table. “You would have your son fight in a blood duel against me, a High Lord?”

“Oh, it wouldn’t be against you,” Beron laughed, cruelly. His eyes fell on Feyre. “And it wouldn’t be my son. I will demand a blood duel against your mate. A mate for a mate. Very fitting, don’t you agree?”

Feyre versus Beron…. That bastard had planned this. You’d all been so concerned with Eris declaring a blood duel you didn’t even realize this would be a way Beron could kill Feyre as he wished in a legal way—as barbaric as it was.

And most of the other courts held the mating bond in such regard, you wondered if you’d find any allies against him for doing this beside Helion.

Rhysand growled, darkness leaking off of him,

“And I will just fight you in her place.”

Beron smiled. “Oh, but you see, you can’t. Once a blood duel has been declared you either surrender to the terms or fight. I don’t know where you got your information from but there are no place holders allowed.”

Your heart was racing in your chest.

Silence fell so heavy in the room your ears were ringing. All of this was all your fault. You felt tears line your eyes. You couldn’t let Feyre fight for you. You wouldn’t. Even though she could probably hold her own against him, he was ages older than her—more battle worn. She’d be at a huge disadvantage.

And Eris couldn’t do anything about this, not if it was his father who wished to fight a blood duel. He couldn’t order his father not to.

You couldn’t let her do this. You owed your life to her, you owed everything to her. It was time to start fighting your own battles.

“I’ll go,” you whispered, so quietly you wondered if you had even said the words out loud. “I’ll go.”

Feyre’s head whipped to you. “No, absolutely not.”

But you shook your head. “I do not want anyone fighting on my behalf. I will go with them.”

Beron’s grin grew into one that could rival the devil himself.

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

“We will find a way out of this,” Feyre whispered into your ear as she hugged you. “I promise. Just hold out for us, okay? We’ll get you out of there.”

You nodded, pulling away to brush the tears off her cheek. You weren’t even going to be able to say goodbye to Elain and Nesta. Beron was demanding that you leave right away.

“I’ll be okay, Fey,” you murmured to her.

“Enough of the dramatics,” Beron called out. “We’re leaving. Now.”

Eris didn’t look at you as he held out a hand. You swallowed audibly and walked to his side, grasping it softly. You spared one last glance at your sister before you were winnowed out of Hewn City and into the den of foxes.

“Come here, girl,” Beron barked, now standing before his throne. “Let me get a look at you.”

You glanced at Eris but he just stood there, stoically, not meeting your gaze. You walked towards Beron, trying not to shake in fear.

The older male grasped your chin in his hand, turning your face from side to side as he examined you. Eris’s other brothers stood at the bottom of the dais, their wolfish grins doing little to make you less nervous. The Lady of Autumn was seated in a small chair to the side of the throne, her eyes not lifting from the floor.

“You look just like my other son’s mate,” he remarked. “Smaller, though. The runt of the family, I’m assuming. Pity. Were you not fed properly as a child?”

You weren’t even sure how to reply to that. You decided not to respond and Beron’s eyes narrowed.

“Hmm,” he mused, finally letting go of you. “Have you sullied yourself with those beasts?”

“Father,” Eris growled, stepping up next to you. “That is enough.”

Beron chuckled, mirthlessly, waving a dismissive hand. “Fine, take her away and get her out of those whorish clothes.”

Eris grabbed you by your upper arm and dragged you out of the throne room. You had to walk quickly, trying to keep up with his long legs as he led you down corridor after corridor. The Forest House was magnificent, beautiful. It was a shame that someone like Beron ran this court, you thought, as you studied the place.

Eris finally stopped in front of a room, yanking the door open and pushing you inside. You glared at him as he slammed the door shut behind him, crossing your arms. You were inside of a huge suite, it seemed. A lavish sitting room, with two doors on either side, likely leading to a bedroom and bathing chamber.

“These are my quarters,” Eris explained as he shrugged off his cape coat and tossed it on the red, velvet couch. He began to unbutton his vest as he faced you. “You are to stay here. Do not leave without an escort. Tomorrow, I will assign you two handmaidens to help you.”

Your eyes widened. “I’m…I’m meant to stay here…in your room?”

Eris let out a long sigh. “It is the safest place for you and I do not want to risk rumors.”

“B-but surely this is improper,” you stuttered. “We are not properly mated.”

Eris let out a cruel laugh. “We wouldn’t be in this situation if you hadn’t made such a spectacle at the High Lords’ meeting so don’t start complaining to me.”

You felt a flare of anger.

“You knew,” you grumbled. “You knew about the mating bond between us and you didn’t tell me! Perhaps if you had told me, I wouldn’t have even been in that room! I would’ve stayed home.”

“Unlikely,” Eris sneered, pouring himself a glass of whiskey from a decanter on a bar cart behind the couch. He chugged the drink down, loosening his collar with his other hand. “You don’t seem to have a lot going on in that pretty little head of yours, bunny. Did you ever stop to think about why I might be hiding it?”

“You are such a prick,” you snapped. “I am not one of your little pawns. I am not a part of your stupid games! You should have told me!”

You went to whirl around but Eris grabbed your wrist, dragging you closer to him. You glared up at him, ignoring the way his heat enveloped you in its embrace.

“This is not a game to me,” Eris growled. “Have you any idea what you’ve cost me? Have you any idea what he will do to you if I so much as take a single step out of line now?”

You yanked your wrist out of his grip. “Have you any idea what this has cost me? I’m the one who's been forced out of my home—forced to come here!”

“And who’s fault is that?”

Eris slammed the empty glass down on the cart.

“Gods, sorry I couldn’t read your oh-so-clever mind! Sorry I couldn’t act like an emotionless shell of a person like you!”

“Watch how you speak to me,” Eris snarled. “I can make your life here a living hell, bunny.”

“I’m not scared of you, Eris,” you snapped. “You don’t fool me. I see the real you under that mask and you know what I think—I think it is you who is scared.”

Eris ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “You know nothing. Do you understand? Nothing.”

“Then tell me! Tell me so I can help you! I know you do not wish to see your father in power much longer. Let me help!”

Eris grabbed your chin in his hand, forcing you to look up at him. You hated how cold his amber eyes looked.

“No. Absolutely not. I will not involve you in the slightest,” he snarled before his eyes softened and his hand slipped to cup your cheek instead. “I cannot…I cannot bear to see this place make you cruel. Stay here, where you’ll be safe, bunny. Leave everything else to me. You were not made for this place. But me…You have no idea what kind of monster I can be.”

Eris’s hand dropped back to his side and he stepped away from you, heading towards the door. You were breathing so heavily, your lungs constricting your ribs against the dress you wore.

“Can we talk about this? Please!”

He said nothing, reaching for the handle of the door.

“Eris, please!”

His hand fell against the doorframe, flame licking at the wood—scorching it again. A growl rumbled through his chest and his head hung between his shoulders but he didn’t turn around, didn’t look at you.

“Do not,” he groaned. “Do not say my name like that.”

And then he was gone, leaving you completely alone.

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

When you woke up later that night, you found yourself in an unfamiliar room. You sat up, realizing you were laying in a bed. You were certain you had fallen asleep on the couch, not wanting to even go into Eris’s bedroom.

The silk, dark orange sheets next to you were undisturbed. You rubbed at your eyes, getting up from under the covers. You were still in the dress you had fallen asleep in.

You padded over to the door, opening it slowly. You took two steps into the sitting room before you froze in your spot.

There, on the couch, was Eris. The fireplace was roaring in front of him as he slept, a lump on the floor by his feet. You blinked away the blurriness in your eyes to see what it was.

Ashera was curled up there, the dog you had met that day you had accidentally winnowed into the forest here. She slept soundly on the floor next to him.

You stepped back into the bedroom and closed the door behind you, quietly, not wanting to disturb them.

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

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yearning-for-autumn · 10 months ago

Note

So, here is my humble request 👀:

Reader is afab Illyrian, got her wings clipped (because we hate this tradition that’s why and because I am too much into enemies to lovers) and the Bat Boys consider her something close to a little sister.

When Eris was making a deal with the NC to get their help to kill Beron and that shit, his bond snapped with reader.

Obviously problematic for him because he has been insulting Illyrians since his mom popped him out about 500+ years ago.

So…bonus points for: smut obvs.- go as filthy as you like, Lucien absolutely mocking Eris for FUMBLING desperately to get his charm going, reader being oblivious.

I hope this sparks some ideas and creativity 🥰🤞🏻

Would That I -- Part 1

A/n: This was too good not to make into a multi-part fic, so expect more soon. Smut will be coming!

Pairing: Eris X Illyrian!Reader

Warnings: Allusions to smut, pining, mentions of mental health

Word Count: 3,638

Summary: You hate him. You hate the very thought of him. And yet he's your mate. The Mother has a cruel sense of humour.

Part 2 Part 3

Fury rippled through your body like a forest fire. You were livid. And Cassian had the nerve to laugh at you. Well, stifle a laugh. Rhysand was watching him with a worried look as he tried to give him a silent warning to stop. This progressed to warning him mind to mind when you got up from the sofa, flinging a pillow so far it almost landed into the fireplace. Azriel flinched.

“Him!?” You seethed, finally breaking the silence you had kept since your return from that damned High Lord meeting. Cassian snorted softly and you rounded on him with a deathly calm. Rhys made a small noise in the back of his throat.

“Is this funny to you, brother? I’m shackled to that evil, pompous, ginger-haired freak and you’re laughing?” His smile had dropped and a look of fear was quickly overcoming his rugged features. You stepped closer to him, your finger in his face. “Don’t sleep too deeply tonight.”

Rhysand cleared his throat.

“Look, this doesn’t have to be the end of the world. You don’t have to accept the bond. We can make sure you never see him again.” The bond snarled through you at that and you growled.

“Sure Rhys, because you were so calm when you found out Feyre was your mate.”

His brow furrowed.

“So you want to be with Eris?” The name seemed to physically disgust him. Azriel scoffed, abruptly rising from the sofa and marching out of the room. Cassian eyed the doorway in his wake. You turned to Rhys.

“No!” You groaned in frustration, pacing up and down on the carpet like a caged animal. Cassian’s eyes darted between Rhys and you. Finally deciding to break things up he manhandled you into a hug. You fought it for a few moments, before giving up and collapsing into your brothers embrace, hot angry sobs wrenching through you. Rhys took this as his cue to leave, and winnowed—probably to his office—out of the room. Cassian rubbed soothing circles on your back, careful to avoid your wings that were ever more sensitive after the clipping.

You were clipped at thirteen, which is how you had come to live with the three brothers. In Windhaven, they clipped your wings the day you started your cycle. Once grounded there was no escaping your duties, nor any chance to leave the camp. Unless, of course, you had grown close with the High Lord’s son, who had a mother with a habit of collecting strays.

You were there through all of it, the highs, the lows, and Morrigan’s tumultuous relationship with one Eris Vanserra. The male you were now mated to.

---

In the Forest House, Eris was pacing. His throat was still sore from the memory of Azriel’s scarred hand, and his cheek burned from the slap that had earned him from his father. But all of that had been overshadowed. He knew as soon as he saw you. His heart had lurched in his chest so hard he had thought he might throw up. You were the most beautiful female he had ever laid his eyes on. And of course, you were from the Night Court. The Mother truly did have a cruel sense of humour.

You had walked in, looking as arrogant as the rest of them, sharing a secret smile with the shadowsinger before sitting down next to the High Lord. Eris, next to his mother, couldn’t rip his eyes from you. Your doe eyes, sharp and intelligent captured his attention first. He wanted nothing more than to get lost in them, to find out everything about you: What you liked to read, your favourite food, how best to pleasure you and have you screaming his name. He was pulled from his fantasies by your wings. Cauldron, your magnificent wings. Their beauty stole breath from his lungs as they unfurled, getting comfortable on the chair. You had smiled at Feyre, warm and supportive, and Eris knew he was utterly lost.

He finally stopped his pacing, locked inside his room, and sat down on the edge of his bed. He sat there, holding his head in his hands until he heard the scratch of claws at the door. Getting up with a weary sigh, he opened it only to be knocked to the ground by his oldest and most loyal smokehound.

“Cheddar.” He chided as she licked his face excitedly. “Cheddar Biscuit.” He said, sternly, and she leapt off of him, waiting by the door expectantly.

“Yes alright, I suppose it’s time for a walk.” Cheddars tail thumped faster against the door frame and Eris couldn’t help the smile that grew. “Go and fetch your brothers and sisters then.” He said, grabbing the leashes off the wall. A walk was one way to clear his mind.

---

As you had predicted, Rhys was holed up in his office when you went looking for him. He barely looked up at you as you entered.

Rhysand’s office was always meticulously organised, but as you came up behind his chair you noticed how messy his desk had become. Letters and notes were piled on every inch of space, his childhood stuffed bat sitting atop one pile as a makeshift paperweight.

He loosed a breath.

“We are going to war, Y/n.” He said quietly, and any thoughts of Eris Vanserra eddied from your mind. Rhys looked up at you with bloodshot eyes. Guilt coursed through you for ever caring about something as trivial as a mating bond when you and your brothers were set for battle. You had only just got Rhys back from under the mountain, only to potentially lose him again.

“Is it certain?” You asked, leaning down to rest your head on his shoulder.

“Yes.”

“Is Cass--?”

“Leaving for Windhaven by first light.” He answered.

“Ok.”

Rhys turned, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. He knew what you were thinking, though you wished you weren’t.

“Eris is an awful male, Y/n. You know I could never support the bond between you. Azriel is...well, I’m sure you already know.”

You did. The moment he had stormed out of the room you had known this was the beginning of a negative spiral for Az. Not to mention the upcoming war. You stood up straight.

“That being said.” Rhys continued. “Eris is ensuring Autumn allies with us against Hybern. There is a certain political advantage to the match.”

You scoff.

“Like there was with Mor?” Rhys turned green. “What did Eris bargain for in return for Autumn’s support? What did you trade away, Rhys?”

Rhysand looked every bit five centuries old when he turned to you.

“Our support in his bid for the throne. Whenever that may be.”

Hatred for the male burst anew in your gut, fiercer still now that you were mated to him.

“That power hungry bastard.” You spat.

Rhysand sighed.

“He could never deserve you, starlight. I will make sure that he never sees you again. I will not lose another sister.”

---

It wasn’t until midnight that you saw Azriel. The last of your brothers to approach you. He let himself into your room, waking you, tattered blanket draped around his shoulders. Rhys’ mother had sewn it for him years ago, before you had come to live with them. It had helped him through many hard nights. So much so that it was threadbare and faded. Rhys had enchanted it not to break further as a solstice gift one year.

You sat up worried.

“Az? Are you ok? You didn’t—”

“No,” He assured, and you relaxed against the pillows, “I’m ok.”

You shuffled over in your bed to make space for him, and he laid next to you, blanket over the both of you.

“I hate him.” He said into the darkness. “I hate what he did to Mor. I hate everything he stands for. I will not let him have you.” He declared.

You snuggled up to your eldest brother.

“I don’t know why you all seem convinced I’m going to somehow fall for this prick.” You said, and he snorted. “I hate him as much as you do.”

Azriel tucked you under his arm.

“I know.” You smiled tiredly, somehow understanding the words Azriel left unsaid. The words Rhys had been able to express. Azriel’s shadows settled over your heart, confirming, and the two of you fell asleep.

---

Months later, Eris sat in a tent, head between his legs to stop from throwing up. Thousands were dead. Thousands more were surely destined to die. Two of his brothers, and his mate, fought on the battlefield.

He only had a moments warning before he was violently sick into a bucket.

Asher, his youngest brother before Lucien, chose this moment to enter his tent unannounced, scowling at the sight of Eris hunched over and retching.

“Can’t handle the bloodshed, brother?” He teased, though he sat next to Eris and put a warm hand on his shoulder. The gaping wound on his neck was healing quickly, as it should with the High Lords power coursing through his veins, but the sight of it set Eris off again. He heaved into the bucket, choosing to ignore the gagging sound Asher made.

“Eris you need to pull yourself together. Father is only a tent over.”

Eris rolled his eyes.

“Just show me your plans, Ash.”

“I don’t know, maybe I’m better off keeping them to myself, seeing as you’re battlesick.” Asher grimaced when Eris finally sat up and pushed the bucket away from him.

“Asher.” Eris’ voice held all the command of General, and eldest brother. Asher groaned petulantly as he handed over the plans.

In Eris’ opinion, not that Beron took any heed, Asher should never have taken on as much responsibility in this war. After Ceres had died, Ash had taken over as Eris’ right hand. Ceres had been more naturally suited to the role, Beron’s bloodlust had run as deep as his bones, and he had a sharp mind for strategy. Eris still mourned the boy he had raised—a quick witted, chess loving, boisterous child—but he had to accept, he had lost Ceres long before he had died. And Eris wasn’t keen on losing anyone else. Asher wasn’t comfortable with a sword, the gash in his neck clear evidence, and he had a wife and child that weakened his resolve. This is what Eris had to work with. And he had a job to do.

He let Asher discuss his plans, though he was unable to rip his mind from providing a hundred different ways that he could die, that Ash or Lucien could die, that you could die.

It took every ounce of training ingrained in him not to falter in his attack the moment he had caught sight of you, fighting your way through the onslaught, Mor by your side. Cauldron, you were ethereal. Your silken wings were spread as if they could carry you into the air, though he had long since guessed that they could not. You cut through your enemies with a frightening ease. Catching his eye, you hesitated just a second, then your face had turned to rage and the next Hybern soldier to cross your path had been beheaded so brutally that even he had to avert his gaze.

When he had looked back up, you were gone, lost in the chaos.

Asher sighed,

“You’re not listening.” He said, and Eris had the decency to feel bad. He looked at Ash wearily.

“Come back in the morning. I’ll be more attentive.” Ash just peered at him over his notes.

“It’s her isn’t it. It’s Y/n.”

“Yes.” Eris said, lacking the energy to lie.

“She’s Night Court. She’s not one of us. One day you’ll find a nice Autumn girl to marry and when you’re High Lord she can pop out a few Autumn court babies.”

“She is my mate.” Eris growled.

“Mate’s aren’t always meant to be Eris. It’s only a biological match, not a political one. When you find an Autumn Court lady you’ll wonder why you ever spent time worrying over some Night Court harlot.” Eris snarled, despite himself. His brothers words were wrenched straight from Beron’s throat and he wouldn’t stand for it. Not from Asher. Not from his kind, loving Ash.

“Get out.” He said. Asher looked surprised, and—Eris was pleased to see—ashamed. He made no moves to leave, so Eris repeated himself, sharper this time.

“Get out.” He snapped, “Come back in the morning with more sense.”

Asher, chastised, fled from the tent, and Eris buried his head in his hands. What use was there protecting you from his brothers when it was certain your own said the same about him. There was no denying the cruel twist of fate the Mother had pulled on the both of you, destined to crash and burn. He imagined you in your own tent, laughing at the thought of him speared on another males sword. Mor sat next to you whispering all the terrible things he had done that day, terrible things to twist your mind and poison the very notion of him. He was too late, he was nothing but soot in the deep pit of your heart, choking the both of you.

He felt blindly for the bond, and found it, rotten.

---

The war was over, but the scars it had left were red raw and bleeding. Rhys had died. Your brother. The one who had sheltered you, loved you, given you a home and a family for a few agonising minutes had been gone. Gone. And yet that Cauldron damned bond had been chafing in the back of your mind. You sat in your bedroom riddled with guilt as it plagued your mind. Eris. Eris. Eris. He infested your mind, your senses, you were consumed by the very thought of him.

Walking through the streets of Velaris had started to feel claustrophobic, being around anyone beginning to suffocate you. You felt safer on your own. Recently you had taken to sheltering in your room, only emerging to eat. Your brothers eyed you with poorly concealed worry every time you walked, ghostlike, through the house, shuffling to the kitchen to fix a plate of leftovers then retreat hastily to your safe space.

Nesta was struggling too, after the war. It had left its scars in all of you. You could feel Cassian’s heart breaking the day Rhys sent her away with him, but all you could think about was whether your brother would do that to you. You thought you knew the looks he gave you.

Disgust.

What use was a flightless Illyrian female, who couldn’t train, couldn’t talk, couldn’t think. He was dead. Rhys was dead. And then he wasn’t. Why were Seren and your mother not afforded the same luxury. You grieved, and cried, and screamed. It truly was a sick thing, to use to the miracle of Rhys’ living to guilt yourself into believing there was hope for them. But then, everything in your mind had twisted of late.

Nesta began training. Nesta began healing. And you were stuck in your room.

Every morning without fail, Azriel came to check on you. He stroked your hair until you woke up, then retreated when you once again rejected his invitations to join them. The Valkyries, they were calling themselves. You would have been proud of Nesta if you could feel anything anymore.

Occasionally, you could feel a light tug on the bond, on the shackles that kept you bound to Eris. The first few times you had thrown up. Now it was little more than an annoyance. You were his dog, disobediently pulling your leash as you fell further and further into nothingness. His face in your mind was as cold as it had been on the battlefield as he yanked you back, choking you. You spluttered. Standing weakly, you made your way down to the kitchen, setting water on the stove to boil.

“Sister.” Cassian’s voice rang out behind you and you flinched, dropping your teaspoon. He bent to pick it up and set it down on the counter. “Azriel says you’ve been ignoring him. You’ve been ignoring all of us.”

You shrugged, the familiar pang of guilt squeezing your chest, making it difficult to breath. You braced both hands on the counter top, taking a ragged breath. Cassian was beside you in a heartbeat, holding you in his arms.

“Y/n, I’m worried about you. We all are.” He squeezed you closer to him, closer than you had allowed anyone in months. “Come and stay with Nes and I. Az is a terrible chaperone, and I need to see you. You could be wasting away down here and I wouldn’t know until it was too late.”

You shook your head, though you no longer knew why you resisted him. Your body melted against him, muscle memory taking over as he enveloped you in his wings. You swore you heard him sniffling as you hugged him back.

“Please, y/n.” He said, voice shaking. It didn’t take much more convincing.

A few days later, Rhys was helping you unpack your bags in your new room in the House of Wind. You took the room next to Azriel, who—Cassian had explained—was falling into bad habits again: Not eating, not sleeping, waking up in a cold sweat when he did finally drop off. Cassian wasn’t doing as well as he wanted you to believe, either. Twice in the following week you woke up to find him taking things from your room. And once, when you had floated downstairs in a miserable haze, you found him throwing up in the kitchen sink, an empty plate that had once held a batch of Elain’s cookies sitting on the table.

Nesta had dragged you to Valkyrie training a few times, and whilst you were beyond their current skill level, it had taken your mind off of things. Cassian’s eyes gleamed with pride everytime Nesta mastered an attack or a block. He touched her affectionately, he teased her, he lingered as she passed to breath in her scent. Watching them together was as painful as it was sweet. How simple love could be.

Would that you could be half as lucky.

Slowly you were emerging from your shell. You could smile again. Nesta invited you to read with her and the Valkyries, and in the silence you found firm friendship. Emerie was a gift from the Mother herself. You bonded instantly, both of you clipped, grounded, but neither broken. Many late nights were spent talking, about books, your brothers, or about Eris. Nesta, Emerie and Gwyn knew little of the Autumn prince, but you appreciated their outside perspective on the bond. It was still a bitter taste in your mouth, but it was becoming more bearable with each passing week.

---

There was a ball approaching in the Hewn City and Rhys had asked Nesta to attend. Not long after, she asked you to join her.

“I can’t do this alone, Y/n, please.” She said one night, sitting at the end of your bed. You bit your lip, unsure.

“Eris will be there.” You said.

“I’ll be the one dancing with him. Rhys wants him falling madly in love with me. He won’t look your way, I promise.” Nesta said. You knew she meant well by that. You had never wanted him anywhere near you before. But something about her oath left a sting. You frowned, which she took to mean you were still unconvinced.

“Please, Y/n. My sisters will be there, Rhys will be there. I’m not ready to face them all on my own, not yet.”

And so you found yourself stood atop the stairs the following week, draped in a black dress with a slit so high up one side your whole leg was practically exposed. The back scooped so low the dimples at the bottom of your spine peeked over top. You were devastating. Death in midnight silk. Rhys’ smile was that of pure brotherly pride as you walked down the steps, your hair pinned in braids and curls.

Nesta stole your breath away as she appeared in the hallway, but it wasn’t your gaze she sought out. You looked towards Cassian and could have sworn he was drooling. Eris would be blind-sided by her, of that you had no doubt.

In the Hewn City, they danced like lovers. Nesta as dangerous in the ballroom as she had become on the training grounds. Every move was calculated, every parting of her lips a dance of the mind, designed to ensnare Eris in her dastardly web. Eris was caught. And you burned.

Standing next to Azriel, heat rolled off you in waves. He took a step towards you, perhaps to offer you a drink, but found something in your eyes to make him change his mind. You hadn’t taken your eyes off of Eris all night. He was sinful. A courtier and a Prince. His hair pooled over his shoulders, one strand to the front neatly braided. You reminded yourself that this was the male that left your cousin for dead at his Court border. Biting your lip, your mind wandered to see yourself lying prone beneath him as he stood, smile widening, cock hardening in his—

“Get me a drink.” You ordered Az. He raised an eyebrow.

“What’s the magic word.”

“Azriel.” You growled, and he turned on his heel. Your eyes stayed pinned on Eris as he led Nesta across the dancefloor in a tantalizing waltz. His gaze finally met yours, and you saw a fraction of surprise before his emerald eyes darkened. He licked his lips, eyes locked with yours as he leaned down, and pressed a kiss to Nesta’s neck.

A/N: I have to thank @fandomsmultiverse for talking to me and giving me about 100 ideas to flesh this story out, I really hope you like it! There will be a part 2 coming soon! I wouldn't just leave you on a cliffhanger like that. We will see more of Eris and Reader interacting, and maybe.....some smut...

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qwimblenorrisstan · 4 months ago

Text

ACOTAR Masterlist

🥀 = Angst 🌼 = Fluff

🌸 = Comfort 🌹 = Smut

Request Guidelines

Azriel

~ Free Fall | Azriel x Angel!Reader 🌼

Summary: After you fell from the sky into his arms, Azriel finds you as his mate, and finally introduced you to his family.

Part 1 | Part 2

~ Blood Red | Azriel x Cassian’sister!Reader 🥀🌹🌸

Summary: After both you and Azriel are left, abandoned and replaced by those close to you, you find company with him in a night of drunken lust, only for old secrets to be unburied in the morning along with a mating bond.

~ Kindred Spirits | Azriel x Rhys’daughter!Reader 🌸🌹

Summary: Amidst Starfall, Azriel discovers that he has a mating bond with you, Rhysand’s daughter, and after pleading his case, he gets to spend some quality time with you at the cabin.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

~ Candles and Cuddles | Azriel x Reader 🌸🌼

Summary: You take Azriel to get a personal wax mold of your hands intertwined, and after overcoming insecurity, settle into each other’s warm embrace.

~ The Clandestine Culinarian | Azriel x Reader 🥀

Summary: Azriel requires a deadly poison, and the only place he can get acquire it is through a bakery in Hewn City, and in the process grows closer to you, the owner of the shop, and is there for you when tragedy strikes.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

~ Snow Bunny | Azriel x Reader 🌼🌹

Summary: After the bat boys enjoy their annual snowball fight, in which Azriel wins, he gets the best prize of all, a night alone with his mate.

~ Short Drabble | Azriel x Reader 🌼

Summary: Sleepy mornings with your mate.

~ Catch of the Eye | Azriel x Hippy!Reader🌼

Summary: After you moved into Velaris, your bright demeanor and clothing seemed to demand Azriel’s attention, as well as the rumors of the Princess of Autumn’s disappearance.

~ Dawn Daydreams | Azriel x Peregryn!Reader🌼🌹

Summary: While visiting Dawn Court with his High Lord and Lady for political relations, Azriel finds himself falling for you, Thesan’s sister, from a distance, only for the bond to snap in the middle of the High Lord’s meeting.

~ Home, At Last | Azriel & WitchDaughter!Reader🥀🌸

Summary: Unbeknownst to Azriel, an encounter he had with a witch nearly three centuries ago will come back to haunt him when his shadows begin speaking of you, his “daughter”, a witch in danger of being thrown out of her coven.

~ Glimmering Shadows | Azriel x Reader 🌼🌼

Summary: While visiting Spring Court on political business with Rhys, Azriel meets you, a Faerie with little glimmering sparks that help you in the same way his shadows help him, and he decides that visiting you a few more times afterwards couldn’t hurt.

Part 1 | Part 2

~ Wine-Nights And Shadow-Sneezes🌼🌼

Summary: You are an artist in Velaris, and a popular one at that, leading you to befriend Feyre. She invites you over to drink wine with her, only for you to later be left alone with Azriel as he confesses something he never thought he would.

~ A Silver Storm | HockeyPlayer!Azriel x FigureSkater!Reader🥀🌼

Summary: Shortly after moving to a new school for better opportunities in figure skating, you meet Rhys, Cassian, Azriel and Feyre. After accidentally getting you in trouble with a teacher, Rhys invites you to a party to make up for it, and at the party you and Azriel end up getting a lot closer than you would’ve imagined.

~ Insufficient | Azriel/Eris x Reader 🥀🥀

Summary: After a few months of dating, your relationship begins to crack, and the truth behind Azriel’s odd behavior comes out.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

~ To Be Known | Azriel x Reader 🥀🌸

Summary: You’ve always been afraid to confess to Azriel about your feelings for him, but after a hookup gone wrong, everything begins falling apart, and he’s there to pick up the pieces.

~ Subservient | Azriel x Orphan!Reader 🥀🌸

Summary: Rhys’ reputation in Hewn City is less than stellar, so when an orphanage becomes overwhelmed, he offers to take some in. His plan doesn’t turn out how he expected when he’s instead sent you, an employee there, sent to scope Rhys out before sending children to him. And in true High Lord fashion, he unceremoniously dumps you off on his brothers.

~ Treason | Azriel x Reader 🥀🥀

Cassian

~ Put Back Together | Cassian x Nurse!Reader 🥀🌸

Summary: After the recent attack on Velaris, you, a nurse, find yourself struggling with all the death surrounding you. However, Cassian is always there to put you back together.

~ Just This Once | Cassian x Witch!Reader 🥀🌸

Summary: After a witch has been discovered in Windhaven, Cassian has been sent to bring the creature back, and ‘domesticate’ her, according to Rhys. It proves a difficult task, but he soon discovers that you aren’t as ‘strong and independent’ as you seem.

~ Cassian Hc’s 🌸🌼

Summary: How Cassian would interact and care for you, his teenage daughter.

~ Loving Lies | Cassian x Reader 🌸

Summary: Only a few days after the war with Hybern ends, Cassian discovers that you, the “male” that’s been his Second in Command for nearly a decade, are a female in disguise.

~ Beach Day | Cassian x Reader🌼🌼

Summary: During a lengthy visit to Day Court with the Inner Circle, so Rhys and Feyre can discuss political matters with Helion, you and the Inner Circle find more entertaining things to do, such as have a beach day.

~ Lazy Sunday | Cassian x Reader 🌹🌼

Summary: Lazy mornings with Cassian don’t always go as planned. Today is one of those days.

~ Blizzard | Cassian x Reader 🌼🌼

Summary: During one of the worst storms in Illyria, Cassian, of course, decides to visit you and travel through said storm.

~ Bloody Cuddles | Cassian x Reader 🥀🌸

Summary: Cassian has no where else to go except to you when he shows up at your door in the middle of the night, beaten and bloodied.

Rhysand

~ Never Again | Rhysand x Reader 🥀🌸

Summary: Rhys has been too caught up in his work lately, not giving you any of his time. After forgetting the date you'd both scheduled tonight, that was the last straw, and you go out with Azriel instead, only for Rhys to plead for your forgiveness.

~ Dreamers | Rhysand & Daughter!Reader🥀🌸

Summary: After Madja is away in business for two months, he has to find a healer to replace her in her absence, which happens to be you, his bastard daughter, and unbeknownst to him, Azriel’s mate.

~ Saving Grace | Rhysand x Reader 🥀

Summary: The war between humans and Fae is about to happen, and you, desperate to save Autumn Court, your home, from the destruction to come, are going to attempt a political alliance with the current High Lord of Night Court’s son, Rhysand.

~ Reaching | Rhysand x Reader 🥀🥀

Summary: Your mate isn't the same after coming home from Under the Mountain, but despite how frustrated you get, you'll keep reaching out your hand.

Poly!Bat Boys x Reader

~ Insatiable | Bat Boys x Reader 🌹🌹

Summary: Rhys didn’t expect you, his mate, to have so much energy when the frenzy began, leaving him worn out, and so he calls Cassian and Azriel to come assist him.

~ Meaningful Mistakes | Azriel x Cassian x Reader🌹🌼

Summary: After what you had thought to only be a simple one night stand with Cassian and Azriel, you discover that you’re pregnant, and while delivering the news, the bond between the three of you snaps.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

~ Bondage w/ Bat Boys Drabble 🌹🌹

~ Cocooned | Cassian x Reader x Azriel 🥀🌼

Summary: During a storm, you cuddle up with Cassian, and reminisce about Azriel.

Eris Vanserra

~ A New Dawn | Eris x Reader 🥀🌼

Summary: Feyre grows closer to you, a close friend of Lucien’s, as you visit him while she’s in Spring Court. During that time, she learns of you being given to Eris as a servant by Amarantha, but no one could’ve suspected how deep the relationship between you and the Autumn Court heir went.

~ An Exchange in Etiquette | Eris x Reader 🌼🥀

Summary: When a poorly mannered royal his age shows up at the ball, teenage Eris can’t help but take pity on her, offering a deal, that he give her a lesson in etiquette, in exchange for a lesson in defiance.

Lucien Vanserra

~ Missing You | Lucien x Reader 🌸🌹

Summary: After coming back home from a long trip to Autumn Court due to his emissary duties, Lucien is exhausted, but still more than willing for whatever touch you’ll give him.

~ Distractions | Lucien x Reader 🌹

Summary: You’re struggling to write the script for the next chapter of your novel due to overthinking and self-doubt, and Lucien knows exactly how to distract you from it.

~ Onesies | Lucien x Reader 🌼🌼

Summary: A girl’s night with Feyre, Elain and the Valkyries leads to your mate being stuffed into a onesie much too small for him.

~ Unveiled | Lucien x Reader 🌸🌹

Summary: You find yourself insecure one afternoon while going out with Rhys and Feyre with Lucien, and your mate seems to have picked up a few suggestions from the Illyrian.

Elain Archeron

~ Allergies | Elain x Reader 🌼🌼

Summary: Elain wants to visit the new cat cafe in Velaris, but can’t because of your allergies, so she comes up with a creative solution…

Nesta Archeron

~ Bewitched | Nesta x/& Reader 🌼🌼

Summary: Nyx’s Halloween costume doesn’t fit; you and Nesta have a solution.

#acotar fandom #acotar fanfiction #writers on tumblr #acotar x reader #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #acotar fluff #cassian acotar #azriel fluff #poly!batboys #rhysand x reader

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thatbloodymuggle · 5 months ago

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MASTERMIND (i)

ONE- THE EQUINOX

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

PAIRING: eris vanserra x reader

WORD COUNT: 6.7k

SERIES MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: none for now

“There is no shot Rhys is a pillow princess,” Cassian snips through howls of laughter.

“Are you kidding me? Have you seen the way Feyre does every little thing for him? She wiped the crumbs off his face at dinner last night!” you counter in a fit of giggles.

Cassian shakes his head, the tendrils of hair tied back behind his head coming loose at the motion. Azriel sits beside him, arms crossed against his tattooed chest. It’s obvious to everyone in the room that, although the Spymaster tries his best to feign disinterest, he is highly amused by the subject matter of the argument. On the other hand, Morrigan, who lays leisurely on the couch across from the bickering pair, doesn’t even attempt to conceal her delight.

“I’m with my sister on this one. He follows her around like a puppy—he stares longingly out the window when she’s gone and wags his wings when she returns,” Mor quips.

You burst into another fit of laughter and clutch your stomach as you are reminded of your soreness from your training session the day before.

“All the more reason he’s a munch, not a pillow princess,” Cassian barks back, his voice booming through the living room and down the hallways.

Nesta, who sits quietly in the corner and actually appeared disinterested in the discussion, perks up at Cassian’s words and gags at the thought of her sister in bed with her brother-in-law.

“That’s enough,” Azriel interrupts before your rebuttal can roll off your tongue, “We should not be discussing what our High Lord and Lady do in the bedroom.”

“Oh, come on, Az, you can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it,” Cass rolls his eyes and yelps at the subsequent kick in his side from Nesta.

“Now that’s enough from you,” she snaps, cold eyes narrowed into slits, “And you should know better than to pick an argument with her. It’s a losing fight.”

Cassian glares at the way your lips curl into a feline smirk and your chest puffs out slightly with pride.

“Little Miss Know-It-All isn’t right about everything,” he drawls with a playful glint in his eyes.

“She most definitely is,” Mor giggles.

“Oh, come on. Az? A little help here?” the Illyrian general lulls his head towards his friend.

Azriel drums his fingers against the arm of the couch in thought before humming, “I’m with Little Miss Know-It-All.”

Cassian throws his head back with a groan as all the females in the room laugh at him. He is spared from further humiliation by the opening of the door. You are forced to stifle a giggle at the sight of Feyre at the doorway. Her brows cinch together as you and Mor share a knowing glance, mischief dancing in your identical eyes. Despite his irritation, the corners of Cassian’s lips twitch as he tries, and fails, to suppress a smile.

“Something funny?” the High Lady quirks a brow with a hand on her hip.

The three of you shake your heads in unison, but refrain from laughter.

“It’s always you three,” Feyre grumbles before diverting her attention to the room full of her inner circle, “Rhys is back from his meeting with Eris. He’d like to call a brief meeting before dinner.”

The joyous atmosphere of the living room is dampened, as everyone is reminded of the looming threat of yet another war. This time, you have no problem wiping the smile from your face. An unspoken tension hangs over everyone as you follow Feyre out down the hallway and up the stairs of the House of Wind. Upon entering the meeting room, you immediately notice the frustration painted across your High Lord’s features—the tick of his jaw, his white-knuckled grip around his glass of wine. Eris must have really pissed him off, you think to yourself as you take your seat between Azriel and Mor.

“The fox was even more irritating than usual, I presume?” Amren muses as she glides into the room last, the twin doors slamming shut behind her. She was always one for subtlety.

Rhys runs a hand over his face, “I was about five seconds away from wringing his neck,” he grunts. Everyone waits patiently for the High Lord to collect himself before continuing, “I think we should consider re-evaluating our alliance with Eris.”

“As much as I would love to be rid of him for good,” Feyre is the first to pipe up, “I don’t know if we are in the position to turn our backs on him if he is our only source of information on Beron’s inner-workings.”

“I’m beginning to wonder if he may be more trouble that his information is worth,” Rhys counters.

You catch Mor chewing on her bottom lip in thought out of the corner of your eye.

“Well how valuable has his information been thus far? Has he mentioned anything Az hasn’t found out on his own?” Cassian leans his elbows on the table.

All eyes turn towards the Spymaster.

Azriel sighs and his wings flex behind him, “I’ve heard next to nothing this week. They’ve put up heavy wards that even my shadows can’t get through,” he pauses before adding, “Perhaps precisely so my shadows can’t get through.”

Rhys inhales deeply through his nose to simmer his frustration.

“Well even if Eris is feeding you more than Az can pick up on, who’s to say we can trust anything the little cunt says?” Mor spits with a venomous edge to her words.

“So we must find out if he can be trusted,” Feyre interjects.

Rhys grunts, but doesn’t disagree, “And how do we do that?”

Silence envelopes the room as everyone ponders over their options. The House of Wind seems to sense their agitation and summons a glass of red wine in front of everyone’s seat. You sing praises in your head at the sight, and don’t hesitate to reach forward and lift the generously full glass to your lips.

“Why don’t we send in our reserve spy?” Cassian pipes up from the opposite end of the table.

You splutter at his words, sending wine dribbling down your chin. You hastily wipe it off and narrow your eyes into an icy glare as you hiss, “I told you to quit calling me that.”

Mor tenses beside you.

“Absolutely not. Her role works because no one knows who she is. As soon as Eris catches wind that we have a secret member of the inner circle, we can kiss any niceties he may offer goodbye. Besides, she’s never dealt with the politics of High Lords before,” Azriel is quick to counter Cassian’s suggestion.

Your lips dip into a frown, and you open your mouth to speak, but Cassian beats you to it.

“Then we ensure Eris doesn’t find out who she is. She already has contacts in the Autumn Court. She can pretend to go there on a business trip for her father and get close enough to Eris to catch his interest. Just close enough that she gains access to the Forest House, but not so close that she ends up wrapped up in Beron’s schemes,” Cassian speaks methodically as the gears turn in his head.

Mor’s grip around the stem of her wine glass tightens.

“She has a name,” you hiss at the two Illyrians, “And you may consider asking her what she thinks before bickering about it.”

The two males shut their mouths and turn to you expectantly. Feyre eyes Mor seated beside you. She can sense the annoyance radiating from her, and speaks softly, “What do you think, Y/N?”

All eyes flick towards you. Yet, you don’t so much as tremble, even under Amren’s scrutinizing gaze.

“I’m not opposed,” you speak slowly, cautious of your fuming half-sister, “But I don’t understand how you expect me to get Eris to take interest in me, let alone tell me anything useful.”

Rhys drums his fingers along the mahogany wood of the table, “We could prep you. I’ve seen the bastard with enough women to know what he gravitates towards.”

Mor’s thinly veiled patience seems to have run its course as she slams her wine glass down onto the table, red liquid sloshing over the edges, “You are not whoring my sister off to him.”

You subconsciously shrink into your seat.

“No one’s whoring her off,” Cassian speaks carefully, “She just needs to get close enough to prod him a little and snoop through the Forest House.”

“Could I not just take the wards down and then get out?” you offer your spell-cleaving abilities, searching for a compromise that could satisfy both parties.

Amren shakes her head tightly, “There’s no telling what Eris or Beron will do once they found out their wards have been breached. Not worth the gamble.”

“Don’t tell me you think this is a good idea now,” Mor seethes at the female across from her.

“It’s not our best idea,” Amren matches her icy glare, “But it’s the only one we have.”

Mor leans forward in her seat, her rosy lips curling into a snarl, “I will not stand idly by as you through my sister to the wolves.”

“Mor, please,” you speak softly as you place a hand on her knee. The tension in her shoulders eases slightly, but her jaw remains clenched. Your eyes scan over Rhys, who watches your exchange silently. You take a deep breathe, steadying yourself before speaking, “I think I can do it.”

“You think?” Amren challenges.

“I know,” you snap at the second-in-command.

Mor’s knee jerks against your hand and she bitterly grumbles, “I don’t like it.”

Rhys sighs and leans back into his seat at the head of the table. The lines have been drawn: Amren and Cassian versus Morrigan and Azirel. The High Lord cocks his head towards his mate, “I’ll defer the decision to you, Feyre darling.”

If it weren’t for the tension thick in the air, you would giggle at his words considering your earlier dispute with Cassian.

All eyes shift to the High Lady, who chews the inside of her cheek in thought. Her blue-grey gaze lands on you, “You’re confident you can do this?”

Subconsciously, your back straightens and your chin raises ever so slightly. You do your best to ignore your fuming half-sister in your peripheral as you steadily reply, “Yes.”

Feyre nods and glances towards her mate, “Then under the condition that she is adequately prepared before stepping foot anywhere near the Autumn Court, I’m in favor.”

Mor doesn’t hesitate to storm out of the room the moment Rhys calls the meeting adjourned. You rub your temples as you know you’ll be having a rather unpleasant conversation with her later about your decision. You are aware of her history with the Vanserra family; although she has never gone into details about the events, and you have never pushed her to do so, you have heard about what transpired centuries ago from Cassian. But that is a matter to be dealt with later. Everyone files out the room after Mor, leaving you, Azriel, and Rhys to hammer out the details of your new mission.

Your façade is carefully constructed. As the fabled Athena Ellesmere, you will be visiting the Autumn Court at the start of harvest season to set in motion tradings for a variety of goods. Under Rhys and Azriel’s instructions, you send letters to two of your previous contacts ahead of your impending arrival; one to Willow, the wife of a corn farmer, and one to Ginerva, a widowed herbalist. You tell them your stay will be longer than usual, as your father has tasked you with researching some new trade routes along the border. When the time comes, your research will give you the perfect excuse to request access to the Autumn Court library, and by proxy, the Forest House.

To his part, Azriel presents all the information he has been able to collect over the years on the Autumn Court: a map of the Forest House with each room labelled, a list of employees within Beron’s inner circle, and a list of empty residences positioned conveniently between the main town and the Forest House. You study the layout of the Forest House diligently, tracing your finger along each twist and turn of the long hallways. You pay particular attention to areas surrounding Eris’s personal chambers and office. The Spymaster lists off items you should keep an eye out for if you are successful in gaining entry to the Forest House: correspondences with other High Lords, meeting notes, any information pertaining to the Night Court and Velaris.

Most importantly, Rhys and Azriel warn many times through your meeting, you are to stay far, far away from Beron. You are there to spy on Eris, and Eris alone. While any information you can gather on Beron will be welcome, you are not to interact with him directly. Females are not treated with the same respect in the Autumn Court as they are in the safety of Velaris. And if anything goes awry, you will be under his jurisdiction.

As the conversation shifts to the man of the hour, you can surmise one thing: Eris Vanserra is a fox. Sly and cunning, with a sharp wit and an even sharper tongue. A predator. He enjoys the hunt more than the catch itself. If you want to ensnare the fox in your trap, you will need to play a convincing game of hard to get; hard enough to keep him chasing, but not so hard that he deems the grapes sour and moves to a different branch.

The fox is a far cry from any of your previous expeditions. You should feel on edge; nervous, anxious about what is to come. But you can’t kindle the flicker of excitement in your gut at the prospect of outfoxing the fox himself.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Please check in with Rhys daily. Even if you don’t find anything. And don’t forget the tunnel escape routes Az showed you if something goes awry,” Mor rambles on as she fiddles with the buttons of your cloak.

You roll your eyes with an exaggerated sigh, “Anything else, Mother Mor?”

She flicks your forehead, and you scrunch your brows with a yelp at the assault.

“Don’t fret, dear Morrigan. Our little Spymaster-in-training has got this,” Cassian ruffles your hair with a grin.

You swat his hand away and turn to him with a glare, “I said quit calling me—”

“That’s enough, you two,” Feyre interjects before you can bicker with the Illyrian fool.

You hike your bag onto your shoulder and smooth down the emerald-green dress underneath your heavy cloak. The wrinkles in the fabric instantly return as Mor throws her arms around you, sending you stumbling backwards.

“Be careful,” she whispers into your neck.

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, and instead return her embrace.

“It’s just a month. I’ll be fine. Promise,” you give her a reassuring squeeze before squirming out of her tight grip.

“I’d suggest you leave now before Mor changes her mind,” Rhys speaks lowly into your ear. You don’t need to turn to see the smirk plastered on his face.

With one last adjustment to your clothes, carefully crafted to blend seamlessly into the Autumn Court, you turn towards your misfit family. An impish smile tugs at your lips as you wave at them.

“Don’t miss me too much. And Nesta, please keep your pet in check for me. Sometimes all he needs is a good yank on his leash.”

You don’t stick around to hear Cassian’s protests as the air around you twists and folds. You hold your bag tightly as you winnow one, two, three steps. With each step, you take in the chance in scenery. The beating sun of Day, snow-capped mountains of Winter, and finally the unmistakable kaleidoscope of Autumn. Your grip on your bag loosens slightly as you marvel at the latticework of red, brown, gold, and green. This isn’t your first time in the Autumn Court—in fact, it must be your fifth visit at this point. But the colorwork, reminiscent of the stained-glass windows in the Dawn Court libraries, never ceases to amaze you. Twigs crunch under your feet as you walk leisurely through the expansive forest. You suck in a deep breath, taking in the delicious smell of pine, before winnowing once more.

This time, you hit your mark. About 10 yards in front of you sits a quaint little cabin. Smoke steadily blows out from the chimney on the roof, and you smile to yourself at the sight. Ginerva must have prepared a fire prior to your arrival—a welcome gift, of sorts. You dig out the key in the pocket of your coat, which the herbalist had sent you the day prior following your payment for one month’s rent.

A sweet cedar smell invades your senses as you swing the cabin door open. The hinges creak loudly, indicative of a desperate need for oil. You take in the small space as you set your bag down on the wooden floor. A fire burns brightly in the fireplace in the corner, contained by some sort of enchantment. Directly across from the flames is a modest bed, slightly larger than a twin. A smile tugs at your lips as you picture Azriel or Cassian trying to sleep on it with their ginormous Illyrian wings. On the other side of the cabin is a small kitchenette, stocked with all the pots, pans, and utensils you could possibly need. You swing the door shut behind you, and relish in the warmth the fire brings—a stark contrast from the brisk autumn winds outside. Despite the scattered cracks in the wall and the sheer layer of dust covering the floor, the cabin has a certain rustic charm. After spending so many years confined within the same book-lined walls, you never fail to appreciate such changes in scenery.

You set to work unpacking your bag, charmed to fit more than it should hold. The clothes Amren and Mor have packed for you are a mixture of warm oranges, reds, and greens—a far cry from your typical Night Court attire. A sharp knock snaps you from your task at hand. You plaster a kind smile on your face as you swing the door open.

Ginerva is the epitome of a typical Autumn Court inhabitant. Her hair is tied back in an intricate braid, its copper hue a beautiful compliment to her piercing green eyes. A constellation of freckles are dotted across her pale skin, lifted by the wide grin on her lips.

“Athena!”

The herbalist doesn’t give you a chance to reply as she envelopes you in a warm embrace. Your gut churns as the reality that you are now in Athena Ellesmere’s skin, not your own, settles in. Still, you return her gesture with a laugh.

“It’s good to see you again, Ginerva,” you pull back from her with a soft smile, “I can’t thank you enough for arranging this for me.”

The female brushes off any flattery, “Please, don’t thank me. I’m merely appreciative to have your company for a short while. It does tend to get lonely around here with Ambrose gone.”

You suppress the frown that twitches at your lips at the thought of her deceased husband. You had the displeasure of meeting him twice before the war against Hybern claimed his pitiful life. Just as Ginerva was the epitome of an Autumn Court female, so was Ambrose the epitome of an Autumn Court male: pompous with a vicious temper.

“I can only imagine,” you reply, voice dripping with faux remorse, “How has business been at the shop?”

Her juniper eyes brighten and a rosy hue spreads across her pale cheeks, “Oh, it’s been wonderful! I’ve just restocked a new barley tea which works wonders for joint pains. My customers can’t seem to get enough of it!”

That could surely come in handy after your brutal hours in the ring with Cassian. You make a mental note to purchase a stock of it before the end of your trip.

“That’s wonderful to hear. I’ll have to swing by once I’m settled in,” you grin.

“Please do,” Ginerva smiles, “I hate to cut my visit short, but I must get going to re-open the shop. Will I see you at the equinox celebration tonight?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you swiftly reply, your cheeks beginning to ache from your calculated smile.

Your head dips into a kind nod as Ginerva departs with a wave over her shoulder. The door shuts, leaving you to the comfort of your temporary home once more. The twisting in your gut returns as you continue unpacking your belongings. It shouldn’t bother you—the seamless weaving of lies and deceit. You have been playing the role of Athena Ellesmere for decades now. But this trip is different; longer, yes, but it’s more personal. You feel a guilt you have never felt before manipulating others into trusting a person who doesn’t exist.

The once comforting aroma of the cabin begins to grow suffocating, and you decide a walk of the premises is needed. You slip on a pair of boots and drape your cloak over your shoulders as protection from the biting autumn wind before heading out into the forest. Although the breeze in Velaris is soft and comforting, you can’t help but revel in the slightly more sinister wind that nips at your nose as you wander in the direction of the Forest House. You have frequented the Autumn Court several times now, but have never approached the grand estate, let alone entered it. With sentries littered at every entrance, it is impossible to breach. No enemies approach Beron’s home without his knowledge, and none leave without his permission. That is, with the exception of the Autumnal Equinox.

Although the falling leaves of autumn preside year-round within the court, the equinox marks the official start of autumn in Prythian, and for Autumn Court inhabitants, the beginning of harvest season. Celebrated since the country was divided into the seven courts, it is a tradition which spans centuries of High Lords. For one night each year, the High Lord opens the gates of the Forest House to his citizens, and indulges them in music, wine, and dancing until the early hours of the morning.

You have never attended an Autumnal Equinox celebration, but you have read extensively about it. You have read extensively about a lot of things, for that matter; but have experienced so few.

As you make your way through the woods, your eyes land on the Forest House peeking through the trees. It is absolutely breath-taking. One hundred books couldn’t do the moss-covered shingles and centuries-old red brick justice. A bitter taste floods your mouth at the thought; the reality that in your 70 years of existence, you’ve seen so little of the world. You love your home in Velaris, and your little misfit family. And yet, you can’t help but dream of another reality in which you free from any obligation, free to move as you please, free to never settle down. You suppose that this must be the price for immortality.

Rather than dwindling into an existential crisis, you collect your thoughts and begin your scaling of the Forest House perimeter. Images of Azriel’s carefully detailed maps swim through your mind as you study each window. The fabled story of Athena Ellesmere rolls off your tongue as the colorful leaves crunch under your feet. And for a few short hours, you find yourself lost in the beauty of a small piece of what the world beyond Velaris has to offer.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You didn’t think it possible, but somehow the Forest House is even more magnificent up close than what you caught glimpse of from behind the rolling hills. The golden archway beckoning citizens inside its premises is full of intricate details, nearly invisible to the naked eye. Red leafed decorations are so bright they seem to reflect the stars in the night sky above. Vibrant green ivy snakes and twists along the cobblestone walls of the courtyard, tying the whole scene together.

It is surely a sight for sore eyes. But as are you.

The silk of your ruby red dress pools at your feet and flows like a blood river with each step. The expensive material hugs your hips, but does not constrict them, accentuating your figure. A deep plunging neckline and open back expose just enough skin to leave any male wanting more. Your hair is pulled back in a tasteful updo with a few tendrils loose to shape your face, highlighting your natural beauty. And to top it all off, a deep, red lipstick. You look regal.

If Cassian could see you now, he’d never again call you Bookworm.

As you enter the center of the courtyard, you take in the joyful scene before you. A band of enchanted instruments play a lively tune as faeries dance and sing, the sweet smell of cinnamon filling the air.

But you have a job to do.

You imagine Azriel’s voice in your head as you survey the perimeter of the courtyard, making note of each potential exit. Your eyes scan the crowd for any potential threats. Once you come up empty, you take a step forward towards the middle. You hold your chin high, and move with an elegance that does your elegant gown justice.

You ignore the lingering gazes of onlooking males as you weave through the crowd and help yourself to a goblet of wine. You have never tasted anything quite like it—a sweet undertone of crisp apple and nutmeg. You nonchalantly scan the crowd, this time searching for a head of flaming, crimson hair. The task, however, proves to be difficult, as nearly every head is red.

An ominous shiver crawls up your spine as you sense an unwanted presence lingering behind you. You try to ignore the male breathing down your neck and sip your wine, but to no avail.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing here alone?” your nose scrunches at the sour scent of liquor on his breath.

His threatening stance disturbs you, but you are prepared for this.

You glamour a glittering, diamond ring onto your left hand and raise it in a delicate gesture, not bothering to meet his eye.

“Waiting for my husband,” you swiftly reply.

His drunken grumblings barely reach your ear as your eyes lock in on your target.

You know what Eris Vanserra looks like; Rhys has shown you through his own eyes. But you aren’t quite prepared for how, for lack of a better word, stunning the man across the crowd truly is.

His towering stature exudes power. The first few buttons of his emerald silken shirt are undone, leaving the top of his chest exposed. You can’t help but ogle at the way the silver chain around his neck falls gracefully down his radiant, almost golden, skin. The sharpness of his chiseled jaw slices through the air; a stark contrast to the soft texture of his wind-swept, crimson hair. A golden wreath sits flawlessly on top, its shine reflecting the moonlight above. It takes everything in you not to gawk at his beauty.

You down the rest of your wine, willing the alcohol to give you the confidence you need, before refilling your goblet. You stalk through the crowd, all the while keeping your eyes locked on him. You lean against a red brick wall about 20 yards behind the male he is speaking to—directly in his line of view. You wait patiently, allowing yourself to indulge in his regal beauty. Finally, his chin dips to the side.

The roaring sound of music and screaming faeries washes away as his amber eyes flick towards yours. Your heart thumps as you hold his curious gaze, your own inquisitive one unwavering. A feline smile curls onto your face and you slowly, teasingly, raise your goblet of wine to your red lips. Eris’s eyes narrow ever so slightly as he studies your movements. You cock a brow in response as you take a sip of the dark liquid. A venomous smirk tugs at his lips, and your heart leaps into your throat at the playful glint in his eyes.

Just as quickly as it appears, he vanishes.

You catch sight of his golden wreath weaving through the crowd, and swiftly push yourself from the wall. With a deep breath, you will yourself into the shadows (a gift bestowed upon you by your unknowing father), and glide in the opposite direction. You stop a few yards away, and smirk as you spot Eris approach your previous spot on the wall. His brows furrow as he looks around in confusion. You wait patiently for his eyes to find yours again. The burning bonfire flickers in his irises, highlighting the unmistakable glint of mischief. He swiftly moves in your direction, and you slip away into the shadows once more, careful to conceal your Night Court power. Again, you stop a small distance away. You repeat your vanishing act a few more times, slowly luring the fox away from the center of the party and into your snare. Once you reach the outskirt of the courtyard, you will yourself completely from the shadows and set into a casual strut. You can feel his presence approaching, and your heart thrums in anticipation.

“Where are you flying off to, Little Bird?”

His warm voice crackles like the flames of the bonfire.

You shiver as his warm breath fans over your neck, his aroma of sandalwood and cranberry dizzying.

“Maybe I’m stretching my wings,” you muse, “Or maybe I’m luring the fox from the safety of his den.”

Your knees buckle as his lips graze the shell of your ear with a smile, “I quite like pretty things with sharp tongues.”

Your lips part and goosebumps erupt along your skin. His charm is alluring, but you are prepared for this. So, you swiftly spin the face him. His golden wreath nearly scrapes the tip of your nose as he lazily raises his head, but you resist the instinct to step back. All air leaves your body as he rises to his full height. His amber eyes bear into yours, and you are suddenly aware of just how much of your skin is exposed.

“I think you underestimate just how sharp my tongue can be,” you purr as you raise the wine still in your hand to your lips.

Eris watches intently as your lips wrap around the rim and you tip back the goblet. You allow a droplet to leak from the side and spill down the curve of your lips. As you lower the goblet from your face, his ring-clad hand darts out and catches the red drop. His thumb rubs gently along your chin, his warm touch igniting a fire in your gut. His soft grips tightens ever so slightly as he tilts your face upwards before removing his hand. Your lips part as he sucks his wine-covered thumb into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing at the motion.

“Good?” the airiness of your voice betrays you.

“Delicious,” he sings.

He is taunting you—circling his prey, preparing to pounce.

“A bit too sweet for my taste,” you hum and blindly set the goblet down on the low cobblestone wall beside you, “And I think my wings are adequately stretched.”

The crimson silk of your dress ripples as you turn swiftly on your heel and saunter back towards the party. A playful smirk dances on your lips as you feel Eris’s gaze on your swinging hips. His powerful aura trails behind you. He allows you to lead through the crowd, giving you a fleeting semblance of control, before his strong hand wraps around your wrist in a commanding grip.

You swallow down a gasp as he abruptly spins you around and pulls your chest flush against his. He has a direct view of the curve of your breasts down the deep cut of your dress; but his luminous eyes don’t waver from yours. He intertwines his right hand with yours so that your palms touch, while his left finds solace in the dip of your waist. Despite your best efforts, you are unable to will away the deep flush creeping up your neck as he moves you gracefully along the floor in a waltz to the beat of the music.

“I’m not familiar with the customs of the Autumn Court, you tease, “But where I come from it is impolite to steal a dance from a female without her permission.”

He ignores you and twirls you around before pulling you close again, “And where is it that you flew from, Little Bird?”

You hum nonchalantly, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

His chest rumbles with laughter, sending a shiver down your spine. His head dips down so that his lips are millimeters from your ear as he whispers, “I’ve seen your eyes before.” Your heart skips a beat—you hadn’t even considered the possibility that he might recognize your similarity to Morrigan. But the tension in your shoulders eases as he continues, “Did the Mother send you from my dreams?”

You mimic his gesture and raise your lips to his ear before replying, “From your nightmares, actually.”

“Little Bird knows how to play,” Eris muses. He rises to his full height once again before spinning your body so your back is flush against his chest, your feet moving with his in a gentle sway to the strings of the orchestra, “Does she have a name?”

“She does,” you retort simply.

He knows your game. And he’s willing to play.

“It seems only fair you indulge me with yours, seeing as you know mine,” he probes.

Your face warms as he moves your bodies closer to the blazing bonfire.

“Who’s to say I know your name?” you tease in a lilted voice.

His hands trail down your body at an agonizingly slow pace before landing on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

“Everyone knows my name, darling,” molasses drips from his lips as his voice tickles your neck.

You reply coolly, “Vanity working on a weak hand produces every sort of mischief.”

A humorless laugh escapes from his lips, and you jolt as his fingers dig tightly into your waist, “I can assure you my hand is many things, but weak is not one of them.” His right hand leaves your waist, and you gulp as it wraps around your throat. He doesn’t squeeze—but his grip is just strong enough to prove his point. “What can I do to get the canary to sing?”

You spin around to face him and lace your right hand with his left once more. Your gentle sways become brisker as the tempo of the violins accelerates.

“My name for a question,” you cock a brow.

“Indulge me.”

His gaze shifts from your eyes to your intertwined hands as your fingers dance along his, gently slipping one of his rings off. You roll it teasingly between your fingers before slipping it onto your thumb.

“Athena,” you finally relent with a coy smile.

A pleasured hum rumbles in his throat as he rolls the ring around your thumb, “Fitting name, Little Bird. Though I think you’re better suited as a canary than an owl.”

Pure, unbridled desire clouds your eyes as Eris raises your thumb to his mouth and nips it tauntingly.

“Do intelligent females scare you?” you muse, pushing your thumb against his bottom teeth.

A sinister grin curls onto his lips as you trail your ring-clad thumb down, over his bottom lip and to his chin, before retreating to its place in his hand.

“They terrify me,” he purrs before twirling you in time with the crescendo of the orchestra.

“My question,” you state simply as your playful eyes meet his again.

“Shoot.”

His Adam’s apple bobs as you trail your right hand from his shoulder to the nape of his neck, stroking your fingers gently through his scarlet locks. Your gaze shifts from his amber eyes to the walls of the Forest House behind him.

“What do you guard inside your henhouse, Fox?”

Your heart thumps wildly in your chest as the words leave your lips. A dark look glazes over his eyes, sending a wave of instant regret crashing over you. Have you said too much? Pushed too far?

His grip on your hand tightens and he lowers his lips to your ear once more. But this time, they don’t graze. His teeth sink into your earlobe, and he tugs hard enough to elicit a wince; a warning.

“I indulge your question, but I didn’t promise an answer,” Eris drawls. He presses a kiss to your ear before whispering, “Be careful, Little Bird. If you fly too close, you might just get burned.”

Cauldron, save you. Your knees buckle and an involuntary moan escapes you as he trails his lips down your neck. Your eyes flutter shut as you crane your neck to the side, giving yourself fully to him. He ghosts open-mouthed kisses along your sensitive skin and your nails dig into the nape of his neck, pulling him impossibly closer. He nips at the junction of your collarbone and you gasp, your eyes shooting wide open.

The twinkling stars above blink down at you and a wave of panic rushes in.

Rhys’s words from earlier sing in your ears: Don’t get too close.

Eris senses the rapid uptick of your pounding heart. He hums against your skin and drags the tip of his nose up your shoulder, along your neck, and finally to your chin. His lips ghost over yours as he breathes, “Change of heart, Little Bird?”

This time when you look into his amber eyes, the playfulness, the mischief, the humor, is all gone. You are looking into the eyes of a predator, seconds away from closing in on its kill. You gulp and pray that your mask of apathy hasn’t slipped.

“Patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet.”

A wide grin takes over his face, but the predator within him lurks. Still, he hums in understanding and leans away, “I see. But I must warn you that my patience is notoriously thin.”

A swift movement in your peripheral captures your attention. You look past Eris’s shoulder and catch sight of a tall male stalking towards you—one of his brothers, you deduce from his flaming red hair and regal posture. A sense of relief rushes over you, as you plot your escape for the evening.

Your plaster on a sickly-sweet smile and raise your lips to his cheek, giving the Autumn Court heir a chaste kiss.

“’Till we meet again, Eris Vanserra,” you whisper.

He nearly groans at the way his name rolls off your tongue, but his brows furrow as the meaning of your words sinks in. He turns his head towards your line of sight, and you use the opportunity to swiftly slip away. You don’t stick around to hear his conversation with his brother. Instead, you will yourself to slip back into the shadows. A rush of adrenaline surges through you as you make your escape.

It isn’t until you are far past the golden gates of the Forest House that the reality of what just happened sinks in. You gasp for air as your heart thunders in your chest. You steady yourself against a large tree, sinking your nails into the bark until the splintering pain stabilizes you. As you retract your nails from the trunk, a glimmer catches your eye. The shining silver of Eris’s ring, still sitting snugly around your thumb, seems to wink at you. You roll it around with your index finger, and a faint smile ghosts over your lips. Pride burrows in your chest as you push off the tree and begin your trek back to your temporary home.

Although the night didn’t go quite as you had envisioned it, you have the fox right where you want him.

And he is none the wiser.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #eris vanserra #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra smut #eris x reader #eris vanserra fanfic #mastermind

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utterlyotterlyx · 8 months ago

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The Fox and The Fawn

High Lord Eris x Rhys!Sister!Reader x Azriel

Part One

Summary - As the ways of the world shift, you find yourself torn between those who have always cared for you and the life you feel like you were made to live.

Warnings - none right now really, some angst, harmless flirting, tension, slight fluff, mention of wing loss

Hauntingly beautiful was one of the few ways to describe the High Lord Eris Vanserra.

There was a rake-ish look about him, like he belonged in one of Nesta's regency era romance novels that had her eyes widened and bottom lip caught between her teeth. It was rather infuriating.

Tension continued to linger, one of doubtful trust. Rhys wanted to trust Eris, he wanted to trust that the new High Lord of Autumn knew what he was doing, but something was stopping your brother from investing into the change fully and you weren't quite sure what.

Eris sat opposite you in the meeting chamber, eyes trailing down your figure approvingly, a crown of golden leaves dipping to his brow and accentuating those russet eyes that always sought to burn you with their intense glare. It had been strictly forbidden for you to leave Velaris on your own after what had happened to your elder sister at the hands of Tamlin, you understood it of course, Rhys wouldn't survive if he lost you too, his youngest sibling but by far the fiercest creature in all of Prythian's history.

War was scoured into your bones, hellfire raged in your soul, and you were very well known for your tactical prowess and outspoken nature, from your quick wit to your dry humour. Some said that you were the reason that Prythian still stood, you had worked very hard to undermine Amarantha right under her nose, feigning innocence and naivety that she drank from like a fountain of youth, you had been instrumental in the war against Hybern too, and Eris had watched in stoic awe as you wielded your sword like it was an extension of yourself, gracefully cutting down your victims and using your power to decimate hoards of males into ash.

Eris wouldn't admit it, certainly not in front of Rhysand and Cassian who made it his mission to keep Eris as far away from you as possible, but he thought that you were the most incredible thing he had ever witnessed. And as you sat before him, draped in a sheer black dress adorned with white crystals that allowed him to relish at the picture of your full breasts, it was taking him a lot of will power to not fling you on that table and take you right there and then, even if your brother was watching, he didn't care.

The meeting was simple, Rhys wanted to know how the politics between the courts were to improve with Eris now at the helm and steering the Autumn Court ship. Feyre sat to the left of your brother, dressed in her usual ethereal pale blue, another garment made by your mother, but less impressive than the items you owned. You sat to his right with Azriel to your side, Mor, Cassian and Nesta occupied the seats to Feyre's left in that order, and Lucien lingered somewhere between, still on the side of the Night Court, put just an arms length away from his brother.

Eris was stoic and cruel, power radiated from him, but you seemed the be the only one who saw what lingered beneath that façade. The occasional split second glance he would direct to Lucien when he thought no one was watching, one full of regret and sadness. It seemed that there were many more layers to Eris Vanserra than any of you realised.

"How do we know that you won't rule like your father did?" Rhys had craned forward in his seat, his jet black crown glistening in the darkening sunlight that poured down through the domed windows.

Eris' jaw ticked, a clearly sensitive subject for him, your chin dipped in examination and for a moment, he glanced to you, fire in his eyes that mirrored the very faint sphere of orange that curled around pupils, "Would I have bothered to overthrow him to only rule like him?" Eris replied with his own question and you felt Mor scoff from where you sat, your older cousin not enjoying the sentiment one bit.

"Who knows what you males strive for," Mor bit, more like growled, at him, you face remained distant and cold, you didn't remove your gaze from him, everyone knew that they couldn't hide from you, you were too observant.

Guilt had swirled in your gut at the sight of him, under examination by a group of people he longed to be somewhat friendly with, to work with to better the lives of his people, and Velaris was rich in knowledge and power, it was a court that you would want on your side if you walked a second in his shoes.

It wasn't often, if at all, that you would speak at meetings, it was an unspoken rule for you to be seen and not heard, your presence was powerful enough, and you did have the knack for making things worse with your jabbing words, "Raise your hand if your father is a piece of shit," the room fell silent, and Azriel had his head dipped low to conceal his smirk, his knee nudging yours gently in warning.

Slowly you raised your hand and looked to Rhys who rolled his eyes, but didn't raise his own, he didn't want to indulge you. In turn, Cassian raised his hand, Azriel lifted a finger as did Mor, Lucien's hand raised with his elbow still firmly plastered on the arm of his chair, and Eris didn't dare partake, but you all knew his answer already. Counting under your breath at the souls that had answered your call, you relaxed into your seat, "I don't know about you Rhys but I don't think you're anything like our dear old dad. Mor is nothing like hers, nor is Cassian or Azriel or Lucien. If we were all held accountable for the actions of our fathers then we surely would live in the most tyrannical world possible, no?"

Rhys raked down the iron clad walls of your mind and you gave him a pointed look, refusing him entry and smirking at the twitch that pulled at the corner of his lip, "There is no evidence that Eris will be like Beron, and refusing him alliance only makes such possibilities more likely," you picked at an invisible thread of your sheer black garment and feathered your fingers down the bargain tattoo that curled around your upper arm, one that matched the mark Azriel bore in the same place from a stupid bargain you had made what felt like eons ago.

"In simple terms, brother," you fluttered your eyelashes at him, ignoring his clear fury, "Get over yourself and give it a chance. Prythian can't be a land of harmony when males with big egos can't see the opportunity before them."

Feyre had confined herself to looking at the wall, shifting uncomfortably at the colliding forces of power between you and her mate. It was never something she had the courage to stand between, she'd perish if she even tried. Nesta was smirking at you, the only one who would hold Rhys accountable and live to see another day, relishing in the fury of the High Lord.

Another nudge prodded into your thigh and you snapped your gaze to Azriel, "Will you stop nudging me?" You swatted at his thigh, "This world has been through enough already, Amarantha, Hybern, Koschei... It's time that we made a world to be proud of and we can only do that if we work together."

"Who knew that the fawn had a voice?" Eris spoke and you sent him a satisfied grin, Rhys looked to the High Lord and snarled at the name he had dared to direct to you, but quickly composed himself with a warning glace to you that meant he would deal with you later.

Matching is tone, you teased, "Thank you. My campaign for High Lady is imminent," Cassian let out an audible low chuckle, his shoulders shaking next to Nesta who was doing her best to contain the amused smile that fought its way onto her lips.

Typical y/n.

Looking to Rhys, you smiled and waiting expectantly, he seethed out his answer, "Fine," he moved his attention to Eris who was still smirking at you, eyes blazing with curiosity, "We will work with you, Eris. Let's call this the start of a long lasting alliance between our courts," Rhys rose to his feet, "Please feel free to stay the evening and join us for dinner. I will have a room prepared for you."

An olive branch, one that made you avert your gaze to Eris to see him nod in shocked agreement.

Rhys lowered himself so that his head lingered by your ear, his fingers curled around the back of your chair, and he growled, "My office. Now."

A chill slithered down your spine and you smiled thinly at no one in particular before rising from your seat and following Rhys from the room. The pair of you didn't utter a single word as he led you through the halls of the House of Wind, walls that seemed to shrink away from your pulsating energies as he led you to his office and shut the door behind your entrance.

"What in the name of the Mother do you think you're doing?" Rhys seethed as he rounded your smaller figure, towering over you to the point that he shrouded you in the shadow of his figure and flexing wings.

With a raised brow, you spoke calmly, "I highly suggest you take a step back and stop trying to intimidate me," his gaze softened slightly and he obeyed you, stuttering back a couple of feet and tucking his wings out of sight.

"Eris is not someone that we should have an alliance with," he leaned against his desk and watched as you turned around, lifting the heavy glass lid to his whisky decanter and pouring two glasses of the amber liquid before extending one out to him which he took without question.

You waited until he had taken a sip before talking, "Regardless of what you think, you know I'm right," you took the seat opposite the desk and nestled into the deep brown cushions, leaving him standing before you, "Rhys, you wear a mask to the rest of the world, in everywhere other than Velaris. Cauldron, you even make us follow suit. Has it ever entered your limited mind that Eris may do the same, that he too is hiding behind the mask he has created for himself?"

Rhys frowned, "Did you just call me stupid?"

Scoffing, you sipped the amber liquid and enjoyed the delicious burn that sank down your throat, "All you're doing is proving my point."

Rhys threw his head back and inhaled deeply, clenching his eyes closed and pinching the bridge of his nose, "You know that I love you," he lowered his gaze to wash over you, but you didn't falter, you had never faltered under Rhys' glare, you were perhaps the only one who wasn't impacted by it, "You have to understand that I will always do what is right to protect our home, to protect you."

"And you have to understand that I will always do what is right to better the continent, not just our people."

The relationship between you and Rhys was a complicated one. There was a lot of love and respect between you, but his fear of losing you often clouded his mind. His word was law, but your word was the final judgement. The reckoning. There was nothing even he could do to change that.

Many males had attempted to get close to you, but none were good enough to appease the expectations of the High Lord of the Night Court. It wasn't as if you cared. You required an equal, someone who wouldn't diminish your power, and males had the tendency to attempt to control you.

Rhys had even refused your hand to Helion, much to your disappointment, and before the acts that led to the demise of your sister, he had refused to extend a thought to Tamlin who had clearly been besotted with you. Thank the cauldron for that at least.

"You have a strong will, y/n," a backhanded compliment if you had ever heard one, you rose from your seat and placed your empty glass on the bare surface to his left, "It will get you in trouble."

"Good. I can't wait."

Leaving Rhys alone in his office had filled you with far too much smugness and serenity.

The golden tainted pink hue from the sunset poured through the large windows, trickling up the walls and coating your skin in its soft shimmer as you paced before them.

Black fabric chased after your steps from your dress sweeping in the breeze you had created in your movements, you could feel the comfort of your chambers, you could almost taste it as you rounded the corner and entered the room without a second thought.

The familiar skitter of cool kisses swirled around your ankles and you didn't need to look up to see who was splayed across your cream comforter, "I know what you're going to say," you disappeared behind the thin clouded dressing screen and peeled your dress from your body, rifling through the railing full of ornate pieces whilst Azriel examined your silhouette from his place on your bed.

"Then I don't need to tell you how stupid you are," you looked over your shoulder at his words, like he could see your expression which was one of confusion and annoyance, "I swear you get more defiant each day."

Peeking your head around the corner of the screen, displaying your face and shoulder to him, you spoke, "It's the only exciting thing I have to do around here."

Azriel quirked a brow to you, his shadows dancing around his shoulders at the sound of your voice, "That's not true," you scoffed at his words and disappeared back behind the screen, continuing on your quest to find a dress for dinner, "There are plenty of things to keep you entertained in Velaris."

"Azriel," you deadpanned, not stopping your movements in plucking dressed from the railing and holding them up to your body, "Rhys doesn't let me do anything other than train and sit and look pretty and intimidating. I'm Velaris' glorified trophy."

A particular garment caught your eye and you smirked, taking it from its hanger and pulling it up your form. It was a stunning piece, one you rarely wore. An ornate solid gold bodice of blooming roses and ivy that connected to a red wine skirt that possessed a high slit, cream lace poked from the highest point of the slit and kissed your thigh.

"That's not true. He let you fight against Hybern," Azriel told you pointedly, seemingly becoming lost for words when you stepped from the screen and soothed down the skirt of the dress before bending down to secure golden heeled sandals to your feet.

"I fought against Hybern because there was no choice to do anything but that," you hadn't spared the Shadowsinger a glance but smiled softly at the shadows that curled lovingly around your ankles, you held two sets of earrings up to your ears and tilted your head in the mirror, "I'm sure if there was an option to stay home then Rhys would have gladly assigned the position to me."

Azriel rose from the bed, moving behind you and resting his hands on your hips, his hazel eyes boring into your reflection, "He worries about losing you. He couldn't stop what happened to your mother and sister, I think he just wants to be able to stop anything from happening to you," Azriel smiled at you and your orange ringed violet eyes softened at him, "Wear the red ones, they match the skirt."

"Thanks, Az," he hummed in response and took a step back, the place where his hands once lay turning cold and begging for more, "Shall we go to dinner then? What an exciting evening we have ahead of us," Azriel chuckled and offered his arm to you which you gladly took, allowing him to pull you from the room.

There was an unspoken attachment between you and Azriel, like it could be something more if you were both willing to risk your already perfect relationship on the notion of it. You both knew that feelings lingered, but if Rhys ever found out it would surely cause a civil war within your family, and you'd hate to think where everyone would stand in that battle.

The dining room had been beautifully dressed, a black tablecloth and tall golden candles, gold plates and coated silverware, ornate but expensive goblets and an array of blood red and orange flowers, no doubt a nod from Feyre of respect toward Eris.

Azriel left you at your usual seat with a subtle squeeze of the hand before rounding the table and taking his spot opposite you, scuffing the chair against the stone and sitting in it as you did in yours. Family members trailed in one by one, Nesta took her seat beside you and Cassian sat to her left, Mor took the spot beside Azriel and Elain took the other, then Amren entered, then Rhys and Feyre, the former of which nestled into his spot at the head of the table.

Then Lucien and Eris entered, and the High Lord eyed the last two remaining spaces, the one at the head of the table opposite Rhys or the one next to you, and Eris strode beyond his brother to steal that option. He teetered at the edge of it and peered down on you questioningly, "May I?"

Feeling Rhys' eye on you that you didn't dare to acknowledge, you nodded gently, "Of course," he took your answer in the palm of his hand and used it to pull the chair out, his scent of mulled wine, candied orange and pine filling your lungs as he sat.

Eris was dressed well, a red waistcoat adorned with golden swirls, a cream shirt that was tucked into the waistband of his black pants, like he knew to match your own attire, something that not only you noticed.

Idly, decanters of wine floated about the space, pouring themselves into the empty goblets placed at every seat, and food began to appear, dish by dish, on the long table. Platters of roasted vegetables, silver dishes piled with meats, bowls of fresh salads, boats of sauces, and most importantly, towers of desserts that made your eyes glisten, wanting to skip the main course entirely and help yourself to a slice of cake.

Clearing his throat, Rhys raised his goblet, tearing you from your salivating thoughts, "A toast," he smiled thinly at Feyre whose gaze shifted to you and then to the male at your side, "To new alliances."

The room repeated the sentiment before digging in, doing their best to ignore the swirling tension caused by Eris choosing to spend the evening sat beside you. Though, that soon vanished when Cassian started telling his many tales of his escapades throughout the years with the intermittent corrections from Rhys and Azriel.

"I should thank you," a low voice spoke from your right and you craned your head toward Eris, his hypnotising russet orbs were fixated on you, dark and full of wonder as they raked over your face, "For what you said at the meeting. I hope you weren't scolded for helping my cause."

Eris' voice was low, only loud enough for you to hear and you alone, his eyes were soft and stare void of that stoic cold that usually possessed it. He looked like a completely different person, there was actually kindness bubbling within him, genuine sincerity in his words.

"Rhys can scold me all he wants, it'll never change anything," you replied in the same tone, the orange ring in your eyes burning like wildfire, "Anyhow, it's a cause worth supporting."

From the corner of your eye, you caught Lucien watching you with intrigue, his fingers encased with Elain's atop the table with a knowing glitter lingering in his expression, he grinned as his brother spoke and leaned toward Elain to whisper something beyond your realm of hearing, "I can't remember the last time I saw you before Hybern."

Smirking, you asked, "Have you been thinking about me, High Lord?"

"It's not hard to," he replied honestly, watching the faint blush creep up your cheeks, "When was the last time?"

Humming, you thought about it, it wasn't often you actually left the confinements of Velaris thanks to your brother's protective antics, your eyes glazed over slightly, "It was Under The Mountain, at the beginning, after she," you rolled you shoulders, coiling them in the memory of that night.

That's right, the last time he had seen you before the war had been the night after Amarantha had stripped your wings from your body, carving them off with her talons to punish Rhys' reluctance. It had taken everything within Eris to not set her alight on the spot, if he could have, after he had seen your shaking pale form wandering the halls like a ghost.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring it up."

"It's fine," you insisted, sighing deeply, "It's a fading memory now, I've adjusted well."

"I'm glad to hear it," the genuine tone to him was confusing, but you always knew there more to him than what met the eye, and part of you was proud to have been correct about it.

Eris had grown up listening to the stories about you and Rhys, two formidable winged warriors that exuded darkness and power, who held the capacity in their fingers to shatter kingdoms if they so wished it.

It didn't scare him. You had never scared him actually.

"Make the most of this alliance, Eris. It's very rare that I speak up on such matters," you told him, sipping from the wine in your cup and placing it back onto the tabletop under Rhys' watchful gaze.

There was an elegance about you, Eris noticed, the poised shoulders and perfectly slender pointed ears, the violet eyes with the speckles of Autumn orange, the grace laced in your words. It was a spectacular thing to witness up close.

"Then why did you?"

There was a moment of contemplation and you furrowed your brow in thought, "I can't sit by and be part of the reason why people suffer," very unlike Rhys, "Other than that," you trailed off, looking deep into his eyes like your violet pools were drowning in his soul, "I'm not quite sure."

Author's Note

Part one to the series I've been planning for awhile.

Prepare yourselves for a pining, needy slow burn with a hint of forbidden love x

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mcuamerica · 5 months ago

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Stranded | Part One

Featuring (in the next part): Azriel x Fem!Reader, Eris x Reader (platonic), Rhys x Sister!Reader

Summary: Azriel left you in the Autumn Court border while Rhys was at a ball with Amarantha and the other High Lords, leaving you trapped outside of Velaris with the enemy... Requested by @sidthedollface2 here.

Warnings: 18+ only, description of wings and skin burning, misogyny, alludes to SA, let me know if anything was forgotten...

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

Dividers from @saradika

You stood in your black and navy dress, feeling ridiculously out of place next to the maroons, dark greens, and golds of the Autumn Court. While Azriel, one of your best friends and your brother's Spymaster, escorted you to the Court, he quickly forgot his guard duty and winnowed away to find Mor.

"Mor's upset. I gotta go." Was his excuse, leaving you alone and outcast in the Forest House. According to Azriel, taking care of a safe female in Velaris (that he had puppy dog eyes for) was more important than guarding of the Lady of the Night Court in enemy territory. You were sure Rhys would be pissed if you decided to tell him about Azriel's disappearance.

You were starting to feel tired and bored as you stood on the wall, so you decided to leave. If you could get out of the Forest House bounds and cross the wards, you could winnow back to the town home. You really wanted to get out of this dress and take a nice bath. The Autumn chill wasn’t terrible, but you missed the summer breeze in your city.

You walked out of the court, watching as most of the Autumn Court guards paid you no attention. As you made your way out of the Forest House, you took in the fresh air. It was always too stuffy and crowded in ballrooms for you. You were glad to be outside. At least you could stretch your wings out here.

You tested your winnowing abilities as you made way through the wards. However, just as you made to winnow back home, your magic stuttered. You let out a small gasp, trying to reach down to that deep pool of darkness, but just a small puddle was left. You took another breath, trying to recall what you drank. You came up empty, literally, as you didn’t take any drink offered throughout the night.

You heard Rhys’s voice ring through your head. “Keep Velaris safe. Don’t tell anyone. Amarantha has taken our magic. Be careful. Protect the city. Protect each other.” And then he went silent. Your mind… you tried reaching out to him but nothing happened.

You started to panic, looking around to see if somehow Azriel came back for you. But from what you could tell, you were alone. You almost turned back to enter the Forest House. But, with Autumn being nothing short of an enemy, you decided to chance your luck with the forest in front of you. It was too wooded to take off from your current spot, so maybe you could find a clearing ahead.

Taking a deep breath, keeping calm, you started to walk north. If you could make it to Winter, maybe Kallias would allow you to cross into Night uninterrupted. Winter was normally your closest ally, and you quite liked the High Lord when you met him.

You walked for a few minutes, taking deep, calming breaths as you made your way deeper into the woods. Every sound sent a shiver down your spine, and you were just waiting to see that clearing of trees.

Instead, three males approached from the right. You took a deep breath, tucking in your wings as you pressed against a tree. The males appeared drunk, but stable. They weren’t stumbling just yet, but you could smell the alcohol from where you stood. Which meant they would catch your scent as soon as the wind turned.

You took another deep breath, walking forward. They couldn't touch a member of the Night Court. They would be butchered for it. You kept your head high as you continued to walk, only pausing when one of the males called out to you.

"Hey! What are you doing out in these woods?" Sentinels. That's the kind of clothing they wore. They were guards for the forest.

"I'm going home. Can't winnow." You said, tucking in your wings in hope they wouldn't see them in the shadows of the night. You tried to will the darkness to you as you normally would, as Rhys taught you to, but only a little bit of it budged. Amarantha took the High Lords powers... meaning each and every other power tied to their court would be restricted even more.

"Unfortunate. You look like you're a long way from home, as an Illyrian." He said, stalking over to you. It seemed they had no problem provoking a member of the Night Court.

"I am lady of the Night Court. I need to get to my people." You said.

"Ahh, the Night Court." Another one said in a mocking tone. "Lady? You look little more than a whore to me." He said and walked from behind his friend, backing you into a tree. "Shall we see what the Night Court thinks of us when we burn its lady's wings to ashes?" He asked, fire flickering on his finger tips.

Of course. They were in their home Court. No matter how little magic the High Lord had, the land would provide more of it. "My brother will incinerate you if you do."

"My brother." The male teased in a high pitched voice. "Who? Rhysand? That little bastard?" He asked, hand nearing your wing. "He won't even care when we're done with you." He said.

You tried to side step, but two sets of arms restrained you. And then came the pain.

You let out a blood curdling scream as hot, burning flames enveloped your wings. Along with the bark of the tree behind you cutting into your tendons. You fought as hard as you could, pulling away from the males as best you could. The males dug deeper, surely drawing blood from your arms but you didn't know as the fire tore through your wings. Over your pain and screams, you heard a belt unbuckle.

"Never fucked an Illyrian before. Let's see if what they say is true." The male in front of you said. You continued to struggle, but the pain of your wings burning was too much. The smell of the membrane and, gods... the skin of your back, was enough to make you pass out. But you stayed conscious, willed the little magic in you to cast a net of darkness around your wings. You prayed to the Mother that the darkness would snuff out just one tendril of the flames.

Your screams must have alerted the guards of the Forest House, because next thing you knew, a familiar voice was commanding the males to step away. You fell to the ground as the males released you. As quickly as the flames enveloped your wings, the were snuffed out. That didn't mean your wings were repaired. They were completely in ruins. Torn in almost every place, tendons burnt to a crisp that the most important ones had snapped. Your back was raw, blisters forming on the skin. Even the braid that cascaded down your back was burnt, leaving your hair singed and ragged against your shoulders.

You whimpered, the small ounces of your magic working to heal whatever it could.

"Lady (Y/N)," You heard that familiar voice again. You couldn't move. You couldn't look up. Who was talking to you? "It's Eris... we need to get you to a healer before this gets worse." The High Lord's heir said.

"Worse?" You rasped, your voice nearly inaudible because of your screams. You couldn't bring yourself to keep talking. Only thinking in your head as your body sagged further into the ground, nothing is worse than this.

Azriel's back seized in pain, a terrible, yet amazing feeling snapping in his gut.

Rhys had spoken to them mind to mind just minutes ago, telling them what happened. And leaving Amren in charge of them.

Azriel couldn't leave Velaris. Whatever magic Rhys threw out completely shut the wards and borders. He couldn't winnow to his High Lord. And more importantly, he couldn't winnow to you. He asked Mor to try and get out, but she was stuck as well. Rhys trapped them inside the city, effectively trapping you outside as well.

Only thing is, Rhys expected Azriel to be with you. To protect you and get you home safely from Autumn. Instead, he went to Mor because she was upset about something. And left you stranded.

He was just about to tell the others that they needed to find a way out when the pain and the snap hit. In a few blinks, his entire world shifted.

The others went silent as Azriel jerked where he stood, his wings fluttering behind him.

"Azriel?" Cassian asked, frowning as his brother jerked again.

Azriel took a few deep breaths as the pain died down, and then came to the horrible realization of what snapped in his gut.

"(Y/N)-" He paused and stared at his family. The ones that might just kill him when he said what he was about to. "(Y/N) is in the Autumn Court."

"What? I thought she came back with you?" Mor said.

"She's in the Autumn Court," Azriel stated again, ignoring Mor, "and she is my mate."

Part Two

A/N: Oof... this was so fun to write!

Main Masterlist

#acotar #azriel x reader #acotar fic #acotar spoilers #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #acotar fanfiction #katie writes

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prythianpages · 5 months ago

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one shots

angst= `♡´ fluff = ☁︎ smut= ☪︎

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

↠ Goodnight ☁︎ | Azriel has a night time confession.

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

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

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

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

↠ Hopelessly Devoted | You're hopelessly devoted to Azriel, suspecting he’s your true love. Meanwhile, Eris is hopelessly longing after you. aka Eris being your mate but you're too infatuated with Az to notice.

series

↠ Hopelessly Devoted to You | masterlist of interconnected one shots based off of the one-shot listed above.

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

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

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

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

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #acotar fanfiction #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #azriel imagine #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #azriel x oc #azriel x rhysand's sister #azriel fluff #azriel angst #azriel smut #azriel fanfiction

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parkerslatte · 1 year ago

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Overlooked | Part One

Eris Vanserra x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: none.

Summary: Y/N, the eldest Archeron sister, and while the Inner Circle are invited to the Autumn Court by Eris, the new High Lord, Y/N and Eris meet for the first time and the bond snaps.

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

Y/N Archeron was always overlooked. Her whole life she would always be looked over in favour of her younger sisters. Of course when Y/N was human, she learnt to live with it. She did what she could to try and support her family, picking up as many jobs as she could. The only one who ever thanked her was Feyre.

Once Y/N was made into fae and her entire life was flipped upside down, she felt more overlooked than she had in her whole life. Feyre had Rhys. Nesta had Cassian. Elain had Lucien and Azriel. Y/N had no one. Of course Mor took it upon herself to bring her along to Rita’s every time she went. Occasionally Y/N would go home with someone but in recent months, she preferred to be alone.

Now as she sat alone in her apartment, there was a pain in her heart. The last few months, Y/N had been more lonely than ever. She had barely seen her sisters and the rest of the Inner Circle. Azriel was the only one she had seen and it was in passing, Y/N didn’t stick around for a full conversation.

There was a knock at her door and Y/N sighed before dragging her feet to the front door and opened it up. Feyre was standing on the other side with a friendly smile on her face. Her hair was tied up and her hands were covered in dried paint.

“Y/N, it’s good to see you,” Feyre said, wrapping her eldest sister in a hug.

Despite the way she was feeling, Y/N smiled as she wrapped her arms around her youngest sister. It was the first hug she had received in a while.

“What are you doing here? How’s Nyx?” Y/N asked.

“He’s great,” Feyre said, lighting up at the mention of her son. “He misses you though.”

“I miss him too,” Y/N said. “I’ve been a bit busy lately, but I’ll visit everyone soon.”

“About that,” Feyre said as the two took a seat on Y/N’s couch. “We have been summoned to the Autumn Court. Eris has become the new High Lord and we need to build his trust. There is a ball and we must be in attendance.”

“Oh,” Y/N said, deflating the smallest amount. Her sister hadn’t come to see her to catch up.

“The whole Inner Circle is attending,” Feyre continued.

“But I’m not a part of the Inner Circle,” Y/N replied.

“Of course you are!” Feyre exclaimed. “You are family.”

It doesn’t feel like it, Y/N thought.

“When is this happening?” Y/N asked.

“Two days time,” Feyre replied.

Y/N only nodded and Feyre stood up from the couch. “I need to get back home, but I’ll come to collect you in two days.”

Y/N didn’t bother to rise from the couch as Feyre hugged her and bid her goodbye as she exited her home. There was a pain in Y/N’s heart as she folded in on herself. All she wanted was her sisters and even they didn’t have the time for her anymore.

***

Two days later, Y/N wore a gown that left little to the imagination. The slits in the skirt ended at her upper thigh and the plunging neckline and tight bodice accentuated her curves. Despite the way she was feeling, Y/N smiled at her reflection.

When Feyre met with Y/N and was winnowed to the rest of the group, she remained on the outskirts. Everyone greeted her yet it felt as if they were only doing it out of common courtesy. Y/N never wanted to go back to her apartment more than ever.

The Night Court was beautiful and Y/N would admit that. But the moment she got to the Autumn Court, she was taken by its beauty. The colours of the leaves and trees put her at ease. The slight breeze ruffled her hair as a smile tugged at her lips.

The feeling of being in the Autumn Court was different and Y/N wasn’t entirely sure if it was a good thing or not. She felt a small tug within her that drew her in.

While everyone didn’t even stop to look around, Y/N lingered behind everyone looking around in wonder. Even when they entered the hall where the ball was taking place. Y/N gasped.

The intricate architecture and the walls that seemed to shine took her breath away. The rest of the Inner Circle didn’t even react. Rhysand’s gaze was fixated on Eris standing at the very end of the room, lounging on his throne.

When Y/N finally tore her gaze away from the high ceiling, her gaze finally landed on Eris. There was a slight tug within her that made her freeze. Eris’s gaze bore into hers as his eyebrows furrowed. His expression hardened just as quickly as he tore his gaze away from Y/N.

“Rhysand,” Eris greeted, standing up from his throne. “Nice of you to finally grace us with your presence.”

Y/N didn’t listen to Rhysand’s response as her gaze was fixated on Eris. There was a small frown on her face. There was a tug within her that she didn’t fully understand but she wanted to know more.

Before Y/N knew it, everyone was mingling as she stood on the outskirts of the room, sipping her wine. Many males had approached her to dance but Y/N simply denied them. She had stayed near her sisters at first but as they went off with their mates, and in Elain’s case, Azriel, Y/N remained on her own.

Feyre had spoken to her briefly and Nesta and Elain had exchanged a couple of words but there was nothing more than that. There was never anything more than that.

Y/N watched as everyone danced and truly looked happy. Happier than she had ever seen them. Y/N could tell that she didn’t fit anywhere within their happiness. With a sigh, Y/N placed her empty wine glass down and slipped out of the room.

She didn’t stray too far, the music could still be heard and Y/N hummed along. The night sky was filled with stars and Y/N simply sat herself down on the grass. The Autumn Court was beautiful.

Y/N’s relaxed body suddenly tensed as she heard footsteps behind her.

“The eldest Archeron sister.”

Y/N looked in the direction of the voice and her eyes wide fed as she felt the tug in her chest pull even more as Eris stood beside her.

“Yes?” Y/N said.

A smirk was present on Eris’s face as he lowered himself down so sit beside her. She was surprised. The High Lord of Autumn just sat on the grass beside her willingly. From what everyone had spoken about Eris, Y/N didn’t expect him to do that.

“I haven’t seen you before,” Eris said, his tone casual.

“I haven’t had a reason to make myself known,” Y/N responded. “I try not to be a part of anyone’s business.”

“But you were Made,” said Eris, leaning back on his elbows. “That makes you everyone’s business.”

Y/N scoffed. “I never wanted to be Made. I was content with my life.”

Eris hummed.

Y/N glanced back at him, meeting his gaze. The tug happened again and Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed.

“I was content with my life when I still felt like I had a family,” Y/N wasn’t entirely sure why she had told Eris that but she felt relieved that it was off her chest.

Eris frowned. “You have three sisters.”

Y/N laughed humorously. “Three sisters who are happy with their relationships and families that they never spare a look my way. Ever since I was Made and have been trapped within the Night Court, I have felt my own sisters distancing themselves from me. I know it isn’t intentional. They have their own lives and I have mine. They each have their someone. They have someone to look after and someone to look after them. I am completely alone.”

There was nothing stopping the words spilling out of her mouth and she didn’t want to stop them. The weight on her chest was seemingly lifting with every word she spoke. However once Y/N realised who she was speaking to, her words ceased.

“I’m sorry, I’m sure you don’t want to hear about how sad my life is,” Y/N said, wiping away a tear she didn’t know had escaped.

“You feel trapped in the Night Court?” Eris questioned.

“Trapped was the wrong word I think,” Y/N said. “I was welcomed at first but Rhys never allowed me to leave on my own in the first few months. I had to either stay indoors or have an escort everyday I went. It was suffocating. Even now, I am still told to stay within Velaris.”

“It has been years,” Eris said. “Why don’t you leave?”

Y/N shrugged. “I am not sure where I would go. It’s not like I know anyone else and I wouldn’t be welcome back to my old life. So I guess I am trapped.”

Eris didn’t respond as he got to his feet, brushing himself off. He held out his hand to Y/N.

“Come and dance with me,” Eris said.

For some reason, Y/N felt herself reaching up to touch his hand. As soon as her fingers brushed his, Eris closed his hand around hers and pulled her to her feet.

Y/N’s heart raced as they stood chest to chest. That pull in her chest became tight.

Eris’s eyes glanced down at her, his eyes fighting to remain on her eyes. He failed as he looked down at her body and the dress that clung to it. The colour perfectly matching his jacket.

“Why are you being nice to me?” Y/N questioned, her voice a whisper.

Eris’s eyes locked with hers again, as Isal could easily get lost in them. “What have they told you about me?”

“That you are rude, manipulative, dangerous,” Y/N answered. “They mentioned that you proposed to my sister after only one dance.”

“And do you know the reason for that,” Eris whispered, stepping closer to Y/N.

The eldest Archeron shook her head, her heart hammering against her chest as the close proximity.

“My father,” Eris spat, “was forcing my hand in marriage, he didn’t care who it was. I fought against it but once he…” Eris trailed off and sighed, though Y/N didn’t miss the flash of pain in his eyes. “It doesn’t matter what he did, but I knew that it would continue if I didn’t marry.”

“So you proposed to my sister,” Y/N concluded.

“I’ll be honest and say that it was a spur of the moment decision and I knew that it would piss off your High Lord and his lapdogs.”

“He isn’t my High Lord,” Y/N responded.

“Oh? Then who is?” Eris’s voice was low and rumbled in his chest. Y/N's hands moved on their own accord to rest firmly against his firm chest. Not to push him away but to feel him.

“No one,” Y/N said. “I am not controlled by anyone.”

Eris smirked. “Good. That’s what I wanted to hear.”

Before Y/N could muster up a response, Eris had laced his fingers with hers and pulled her toward the ballroom. It was still lively and everyone still danced with their partners. However as Eris entered the room, all attention seemed to divert towards him, and then to Y/N, who didn’t shrink away from the stares.

Eris brought her to the centre of the ballroom. His gaze focussed on her. Y/N swallowed, suddenly nervous. Even though many others had returned to dancing, Y/N could still feel the stares of those of the Night Court. From the corner of her eye, she could see Rhysand’s face twist into one of anger. Y/N couldn’t find it within herself to care.

“Don’t focus on them, just focus on me,” Eris muttered as he wrapped an arm around her to pull her body flush with his and they began to dance to the music.

At first Y/N couldn’t focus on anything but the stares of her sisters and their mates, but as soon as she felt Eris lightly squeeze her hand, she shifted focus to him. They danced around the ballroom with ease and Y/N found herself smiling. Y/N was surprised that the smirk Eris had was changed. Now a genuine smile graced his handsome face. It suited him.

“You are quite beautiful, Y/N Archeron,probably the most beautiful female I have ever encountered,” Eris muttered.

Y/N flushed and tried to ignore her pounding heart.

“Why are you being nice to me?” Y/N asked as he spun her around. “You never answered my question.”

As she was spun back into his chest, Eris held onto her tightly. “You feel it too, don’t you? That tug. That pull that began as soon as you set eyes on me.”

Y/N didn’t respond but the answer was in her eyes.

“I feel it too,” Eris whispered into her ear. “And do you know what it is?”

Y/N had a feeling she knew what it was but she didn’t want to say it, in fear of being wrong and in fear of what would happen after.

“A mating bond,” Eris whispered, his lips brushing against her ear and Y/N’s body was immediately covered in goosebumps.

Y/N pulled away and looked into Eris’s eyes. There was something in the back of her mind telling her that he was lying and it was all some big joke. But the moment she looked into his eyes, she saw nothing but sincerity.

Eris pressed his forehead against Y/N’s and she felt that cord within her tighten more until it snapped into place. There was no more feeling of the pushing and pulling. Her body seemed to get warmer and she gasped.

“You are my mate,” Y/N said in disbelief.

Eris smiled. “And you are mine.”

From across the ballroom, Rhysand stood with the rest of the Inner Circle, his arms folded across his chest as he glared at Eris. The High Lord of Autumn, listed his gaze from Y/N for the first time since they had begun to dance and locked it onto Rhysand.

“I think your brother in law wants to talk,” Eris commented.

Y/N ripped her attention away from Eris and turned it to her family standing the opposite side of the ballroom. Feyre’s eyes held a sense of pleading for her to get away from Eris. Nesta and Elain stood by her side, unreadable expressions on both of their faces.

“Why should I care what they have to say? It’s not like they have taken any care in what I have to say.” Y/N answered.

“I would love to return to dancing with you and let Rhysand do his own thing, whether that be leaving or brooding,” Eris said, his hand gripping her waist. “But I need to keep up appearances tonight.”

Eris led Y/N out of the ballroom and into the hallway, the rest of the Inner Circle following behind them.

“What are you doing with him, Y/N?” Rhysand said as soon as the door was closed.

“Dancing,” Y/N responded bluntly, folding her arms across her chest.

“Y/N, just come with us,” Feyre pleaded to her older sister.

“Why?” Y/N exclaimed. “It’s not as if any of you even notice I’m there half of the time.”

“That’s not true,” Feyre said.

“Yes it is,” Y/N said, letting it all out. “When Tamlin gave us the money and Nesta, Elain and I lived in that house, the two of you barely ever spoke to me. After Elain and Nesta were thrown into the cauldron, no one even batted an eye once I was thrown in. None of you even cared even though I was screaming for someone to save me.”

“Of course we care, Y/N,” Nesta spoke up.

“You all have a funny way of showing it,” Y/N answered. “When everything was over I thought that I could have my sisters back, I thought that we could finally be a family after everything. But I was wrong, you all had someone who you valued over me. At first it didn;t bother me. I know that once you all had your mates, I wouldn’t be at the top of your priority list but I seemed to be right at the bottom.”

Tears fell from Y/N’s eyes no matter how hard she tried to stop them. “None of you told me that Feyre could have died from childbirth.”

The Inner Circle were silent.

“When Feyre stopped by a few days ago, I was happy. I thought that you had come to talk to me and catch up but the only thing you did was tell me about this ball where my presence wouldn’t even be missed if I hadn’t attended.”

“Y/N, we are sorry you feel this way but do you realise who you are dancing with–”

Y/N cut Rhysand off with a scoff. “I just poured my heart out to all of you and that is all you have to say. Did any of you even notice me leave earlier? I think not. Eris followed me and was the one to ask if I was okay. He was the one who actually listened and took notice of me.”

“Y/N, we can talk about this back home,” Feyre said.

“Home? Velaris has never been my home,” Y/N said. “All of you made sure of that when you forgot I existed.”

“We didn’t forget about you, Y/N,” Elain piped up. “We love you.”

Y/N shook her head and hardly wiped the tears away. “If you loved me, you would act like it. You would check in on me from time to time. You would invite me to your family dinners that I never get an invite to. You would act like my sisters and not strangers. None of you were there when I needed you most.”

A tear slipped down Feyre’s cheek as she looked at her sister. “I am so sorry, Y/N. Please forgive us. Come home, we can make this right.”

Y/N shook her head. “I am staying here.”

Everyone looked surprised, even Eris, whose arm hadn’t left Y/N’s waist.

“You are not staying here, Y/N,” Rhysand said. “As your High Lord–”

“You are going to command me to come back with you?” Y/N said. “Really, Rhysand, after all of that?”

“If I may interject,” Eris spoke up as Rhysand shot him daggers. “If Y/N does not want to return to you, I will have a room set up for her here and she will be looked after until she wishes to return.”

“She is not staying–”

“I am!” Y/N exclaimed. “I am staying here because Eris has been the only one to not make me feel invisible and useless.”

“Y/N, please,” Feyre said, her final attempt to try and convince Y/N.

Y/N shook her head. “I would prefer to stay here, at least until I am ready to see you all again.”

“How long will that be?” Elain asked.

“I don’t know,” Y/N responded and Eris gently squeezed her waist in reassurance.

Feyre nodded. “If that is what you wish, Y/N.”

“It is,” Y/N said. “Now please, leave me alone.”

Y/N turned on her heel and walked down the hallway until she was out of sight.

Once she was around the corner, Y/N finally let out a sob, the weight was gone from her chest but at a cost. Her sisters probably hated her now. But she couldn’t stay in the Night Court, she didn’t belong there. It wasn’t her home and would never be her home.

“Are you okay?” Eris asked, appearing behind her.

Y/N tried to quiet her sobs but failed.

Eris was by her side in an instant with his arms wrapped around her, chin resting on top of her head. Y/N immediately felt safe and secure in his arms. She wrapped her arms around him and held onto him tightly. The bond connecting the two filled Y/N with an emotion she couldn’t place.

“They left,” Eris muttered. “They won’t bother you anymore.”

“Is it true?” Y/N said, pulling away from him to gaze up at him, her eyes bloodshot. “Can I really stay here?”

“For as long as you like,” Eris replied, brushing her tears away.

“And what of the bond?” Y/N asked.

“That can be your decision,” Eris said. “If you choose to accept it or not, you will have a place at the Autumn Court.”

Y/N nodded. “Thank you, I have only just met you but you have been so kind to me.”

Eris smiled. “You need not thank me for that. You deserve kindness.”

Y/N rested her hand over his heart. “As do you, Eris.”

Eris pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I can show you to your room if you wish.”

“But what about the party?” Y/N questioned.

“Who cares?” Eris said. “My priority is to make sure that you are okay and looked after if you are staying here. I am not going to let my mate in just any room here, I will make sure you have the most luxurious one, right after mine, of course.”

Y/N laughed for what felt like the first time in a while. Eris smiled at the sound.

“Thank you, Eris,” Y/N said. “You have no idea what this means to me.”

Eris laced their fingers together and squeezed her hand and led her down the hallway. Y/N squeezed his hand back and happily walked alongside him. No longer would she be overlooked, not when she had Eris by her side.

#eris vanserra #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra x y/n #acotar x reader #eris acotar #a court of thorns and roses #ACOTAR

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thehighladywrites · 8 months ago

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ACOTAR men x reader, meeting your parents

𐙚 summary: the acotar men meet ur parents for the first time, how will it go?

𐙚 warnings: crack, fluff

𐙚 amara’s note: thank u sm for the req anon!!💗 i need cassian so bad i’m not joking 🙁 | based on this req

Rhysand

okay so in my mind there are two ways this could go

either ur parents are scared shitless bc of him or they absolutely adore him

They’re real scared if your parents live in the Hewn City and have only seen Rhysand’s bad side, you know, when he was with Amarantha and just seemed like a real jerk overall

The part where they adore him would come into play if your parents lived in Velaris and witnessed Rhysand's true self, not the facade he presents to his court, but the genuine person behind the mask

I think he would act very nonchalant and act like its a casual thing meeting your parents but he is shitting himself behind the facades

He's just really eager for your parents to like him, so he ends up accidentally over-complimenting your mom, which might make your dad a bit irked.

“Mrs. L/N, your beauty is as radiant as the stars. And your cooking is absolutely divine,” he has a hand on his heart, his famous smirk playing on his lips

“Aw, thank you so very much Rhysand, how very kind of you. I’m glad you like it!” your mom beams at him sweetly

“Alright, Rhysand, let's not get carried away,” your dad mutters, staring daggers at rhys as he gets drags your moms chair closer to him

After a while they grow to love him and your father’s distaste for him lessens

Azriel

it’s kind like rhysand’s situation, your parents score is based on how much they know about him

okay, so if ur parents know he’s the scary night court torturer and spymaster who does dangerous things for his work, he might not be very well liked. not only that but they would be genuinely worried and very scared

but if they only know he works for the high lord, i believe the chance of liking him is big

I think azriel’s calm aura when he’s with you makes him very likeable and trustworthy

Your parents see how much he cares for you, the little things he does for you and they approve

they see the small things he does, like this vid right here

Azriel is actually so fucking nervous, he stalks your parents before meeting them. He knows what your dad likes and he knows what your mom likes. Azriel brings their interests up casually in conversations and see how their faces light up

of course you know about all of this but you let him think he’s slick

Eris

Just like rhys and az, it depends on how much they know ab him.

If this is pre berons death eris, they will probably not like him bc of the way he presents himself

I still think Eris is charming and will win over your parents

He’s an expert on charming people and he uses it when he meets ur parents

he is very respectful, tho not very talkative. He speaks when spoken to basically

He gets very nervous when he is asked questions about your relationship bc if there’s one thing he loves it’s privacy

Eris is super vague, i’m talking one word answer for everything

“So how did you meet?”

“at a meeting.”

“Okay! so whats the story?”

“we fell in love.”

Absolutely melts when ur parents decide to like him bc he has never had any parental figure like him that much except for his mom and he is very happy on the inside when ur parents love him

literally thinks of ur parents as his after a while

Lucien

He is extremely well liked, like right off the bat, they love him

We all now he is prythian’s most charming male

is the type to say “wow i see where my girl gets her beauty from” to your mom and “you raised her well, she is very smart” to your dad

I swear he will flirt with anyone. your brother, your sister, your mom, your dad

he brings gift baskets whenever u visit them and it’s always personalized gifts too

your younger siblings always greet him before you bc they think he’s wayyyyy cooler than u

he just basks in the attention bc slowly ur family basically adopts him and he becomes part of the family very quickly they all love him

Goes on walks with your parents, bakes with them, talks to them, literally becomes their fav in a heartbeat making u a lil jelly

This is SO him and ur mom LINK

Cassian

awww😭 bless his heart he is so awkward

he is so adamant about being liked, he goes all out

i’m talking gets a suit, shaves and gels his hair back even though you say it’s really not that deep

sweating bullets, wings drooping a tiiiiiny amount. not noticeable to anyone but himself

anyway

cassian knocks on the door w flowers for ur mom and his hands are literally sweating

absolutely doesn’t let you touch him in a romantic way. he literally swats of your hand on his bicep, “bae, we can’t do that right here, are you crazy??” he says in ur mind, looking around to see of anyone saw that super scandalous touch

at the dinner table he almost knocks over a glass and drops a fork on the floor

his tie is too tight and he carefully tugs on it for air until you decide it’s too much and take him to your childhood bedroom

“Cas, are you okay? They love you so much, there is really no need to be this nervous.”

“Are you sure they like me? Be honest.”

“Baby, I promise you, if they didn’t, you would know. Now get rid of this tie, pop a button and relax, let me get you a drink.”

After you kiss him and get him a drink, he calms down and goes back to his normal non nervous, lovely self

🏷️: @amara-moonlight @rowaelinsdaughter @redbleedingrose @artists-ally @thelov3lybookworm @clairebear08 @riddlesb1tch @cupidojenphrodite @readychilledwine @berryzxx @fell-in-luvs

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thecowinblack · 6 months ago

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Burning Hearts pt 2

Moodboard Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4

Pairing: Eris x Reader, Earlier Azriel x reader

Summary: You arrive at the Autumn court and things are no longer what it used to be and without either your brother or Azriel in the way you and Eris start to catch feelings for each other.

Warnings ⚠️: A little agains, Mentions about sex, Alcohol, fluff, Mean!Azriel, mean!Rhysand, Swearing, mentions about cheating.

Word count: 1549

AN: Firstly I want to thank everyone who has supported me. I love you guys and I am ao thankful for everyone who's liked, followed or reshared. I'm sorry that it took such long time for me to finish this but I've had a lot going on. Hope you like the fic! Love/The cowinblack.

You arrived at the autumn court, feeling nauseous after the past events of the day. Azriel, the mate you’d loved ever since you met him so long ago, wasn't yours anymore. Looking up, Eris was already by your side, concern in his eyes.

“What happened, love?” He calmly asked.

“Azriel… Elain'' That was the only words that came out of your mouth, tears streaming down your face. But Eris didn't need anything else, he understood. You had told him about your concerns with Azriel and Elain earlier. Eris pulled you into a hug and you just stood there crying out for what felt like an eternity until the world became dark and you fell into a long dreamless sleep.

__________________________________

It had gone weeks since you got to the autumn court and you and Eris were closer than ever. Since Beron had been assassinated just months before there was a lot to fix here, laws to remove and things to change. You had helped Eris all you could, even if he said that you should rest and regain your strength. But you’d just laughed it off. Working distracted you and when Eris realized that he’d given you your own office and now you could sit all day working and helping people in need.

Suddenly you heard a knock on the door and Eris walked in.

“Good afternoon sweetie, care for a stroll in the gardens? I’ve got dinner so we can have a picnic.” He told you. You hadn't really realized that it was already afternoon. Guess time goes faster when you have fun.

“Yeah, sure” Only now realizing how hungry you were.”I'm starving,” you added with a little giggle.

“Good you really should take more breaks from working, otherwise you're going to get wrinkles all over your beautiful face!” Eris joked and you shared a laugh. A laugh, that was the first time since Azriel cheated you’d actually laughed. Adoration shone from Eris' eyes, he really looked like you were his sun, the only thing that mattered to him.

“Come on, I wanna eat before it gets dark!” You giggled, dragging him out in the fresh air. You and Eris walked around in the gardens for a bit before you got to your usual place, a beautiful orange tree beside a river. As you spread out the blanket Eris took out the stuff that was in his mystery basket. Strawberries, wine, pancakes and even more delicious things that made your mouth water. You sat and ate and talked for a while and when the time had reached midnight the two of you were drunk, like really drunk.

“You look really pretty tonight Y/N” He told you.

“ So do you, handsome.”

As his eyes met yours the both of you leaned forward and your lips met. The kiss wasn't gentle nor sweet, it was passionate, needy. As the kiss deepened something clicked. Maybe you and Azriel were wrong for each other. Because the passion you felt with Eris was something that you never had experienced earlier.

Carefully Eris laid you down on the blanket.

“Is this okay with you love?” he asked nicely.

“Yes, Eris, yes.” You mumbled into his hair. And so you ended up making love in the fresh autumn air.

__________________________________

The next morning you were woken up by a gentle kiss pressed against your forehead.

“Good morning love, how are you feeling?” Eris asked.

“Amazing, how do you feel?” You asked with a sleepy voice.

“Better than ever.” He said, now trailing kisses down your neck. “But we have to talk about us.” He continued.

“Of course, Eris I love you, a part of me always has, as you were the one who took care of me all those months ago when we got back from Under the mountain. You were there for me when no one else was, not even my mate. I totally understand if you don't have the same fee-” Eris cut you off with a kiss, a kiss so different from the one you shared before, this was so much more… Real. He wasn't leaving you.

“I love you Y/n, you're my world, I've loved you for so long, always thinking that you didn't see me in that way, we can take it slow if you want, but you’re the one I want by my side, forever.” Eris declared.

“Your little drama queen.” Was the only thing you could get out of your mouth, to shocked by the fact that Eris, the boy you’d had a crush on since you were so very young, was declaring his love before you.

“Well I'm your drama queen.” He laughed pulling you into another kiss.

__________________________________

Months past and you and Eris just grew closer. Your family had made several attempts to see you but you didn't feel ready. They had abandoned you when you needed them the most and you couldn't just forget that. Rhysands had said in a letter that everyone was missing me and that Cassian, Mor and Amren almost had killed Azriel for what he’d done. They were all sorry and just wanted me to come home.But the Night court wasn't your home anymore. Slowly you’d begun to love The Autumn Court and Eris and you had gotten married just days ago. Now you’re Autumn's high lady. It wasn't official. Just the court knew and you wanted to wait before declaring it, or at least make it dramatical. You and Eris had discussed when and where and then the perfect opportunity showed up:

A High Lord (and lady) meeting was to be held at the Day Court, to discuss the restoration of Prythian. And you were going to be there, but for the first time you weren't going to stand by your brother's side, no you were going to have your own throne next to Eris. If you were going to see Rhys you were going to do it on your own accord. That was when you were going to reveal your title. And that meeting, that meeting was today. Right now you were packing and planning what to talk about, what to wear and how to act. You’d known Helion since you were a little kid and the two of you’d always gotten along. He was like you, hiding all his troubles with humor and you hoped that your friendship would help to stabilize an official, and well needed, alliance between the Day Court and the Autumn court.

“Love, are you ready? We have to get going now!” Eris said as he entered your room, greeting you with a kiss on your cheek.

“Yeah let me just get changed real quick!” You murmured to him.

“Do you need a hand?” He asked playfully.

“No we don't have much time and I have a feeling that if you help me my dress is probably going off instead of on” You told him and quickly went into your ginormous wardrobe, an adorable chuckle following you. The dress you had chosen to wear was a piece of art. It was a clear beautiful red color which faded out into endless yellows and oranges. The bodice looked to be made of leaves in all of autumn's colors. It was in short just… Ethereal. You quickly got changed and right outside your room you saw the pleasant sight of your husband leaning against the doorframe. He was clad in a stunning tailored suit, a suit that matched your dress perfectly. In his hand he held the tiara version of the crown that covered the top of his head. He sweetly placed it on top of your head and then held out his arm for you to take. You laid your arm on his and a couple moments later you had arrived in Helions favored castle.

Eris had winnowed the two of you to one of the many entrances where the two of you were greeted by a couple guards. They scienly led you into a ginormous, beautiful room with a glass roof painted in gorgeous golden patterns. Around a round marble table 8 chairs were placed. You quickly realized that the two of you were the first to arrive since the only people in the room, beside the two of you, were Helion and a couple guards. When he saw us he strode towards us with softness in his gaze.

“Y/N! Long time no see. I heard what happened in the Night court and I became so worried that I wouldn't get to see you here!” He greeted you coming in for a hug. You wrapped your arms around his broad figure as he lifted you up, spinning you in the air.

“Oh and hello to you too Eris, what a fine Lady you have gotten your hands on.” Helion said as he put you down.

Eris answered with a chuckle and then spoke. “Fine indeed. Helion could you be an angel and ask your guards to get another chair. We can't have Autumn's High Lady stand through the whole meeting!” He announced.

“High Lady? Well Y/N I guess congratulations are in order-” Helion abruptly stopped and you knew what just happened. You spun around quickly, Eris clinging to your arm, offering support, as you uttered the words “Hello big brother.”

Taglist:

@queerqueenlynn @se7enteen--black-blog @@mybestfriendmademe @cleverzonkwombatsludge

An: I've got loooots of ideas for the next part and I hope to see you then!

#eris x reader #eris x you #high lord eris x rhys!sister!reader x azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #acotar x reader #acotar angst #acotar x y/n #eris x y/n #rhysand sister #eris vanserra #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x y/n

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velarisnightsky444 · 6 months ago

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Scorched Shadows Part 4

Eris x AzrielSister!Reader

Summary: Y/N is the younger sister of Azriel. She has shadows just like him, and is also a spymaster for Rhys. When she meets Eris, she initially hates him, but after a bargain is made between them, things begin heating up. This takes place before Under the Mountain.

It's been a while, so quick summary. In part 2, he found her spying but let her go, under the bargain that she owed him a favor. In part 3, he sent a letter inviting her to a ball in Autumn as that favor. Her brothers forbade it, and out of spite, she decided to go.

Series Masterlist

Part 3 || Part 5

»»————-　♔　————-««

Year 3

You looked gorgeous, if you did say so yourself. You had stolen a dress from Mor's closet, enchanting it to fit your wings. Your brothers would've lost their minds if they say you in it.

You knew it was too scandalous for the Autumn Court, but you also knew that Eris had only invited you to irritate you. So you would irritate him right back.

You stared down at the leaf shaped tattoo on your wrist as your shadows whispered to you, warning you not to go. To you, if it pissed your brothers off, it would be worth it.

You quietly climbed out of your window, jumping off of the windowsill and letting your wings catch the wind. You didn't want to ruin your hair, so you just got far enough from the House of Wind to winnow.

You landed in front of the Forest House where you found yourself surrounded by Autumn Court High Fae. Some of them shot you looks, likely due to your lesser Fae heritage, and your shadows. But you ignored them, glancing around until your eyes caught Eris's.

His smirk made you want to claw at his face. But you let him make his way towards you, though you glared at him with every step he took.

You couldn't deny how handsome he looked. His hair was combed neatly, his suit was black with an emerald coat and tie.

"Shall we?" was all he said, holding an arm out to you. You scowled, but took it. "I'm surprised you agreed."

"I only agreed to annoy my brothers," you said, hoping to humble him.

"And how does your cousin feel?"

You yanked your arm away from him at the words, a truly hateful glare twisting your face and pointing in his direction.

"You don't deserve to even speak of her," you said to him.

He didn't reply. He just gripped your arm again, tugging you into the ballroom.

The ballroom was gorgeous, tiles of gold and walls of marble. Fae all around wore fancy suits and gowns. A few of them had to dodge your wings, shooting you dirty looks as they did so. You just glared back at them.

Eris didn't speak a word to you as his hand slipped around your waist, his other joining with your scarred hand. You begrudgingly began to dance, only because you could imagine the looks on your brothers faces if they were to see you.

“Why did you invite me here?” you demanded.

“You really pissed me off in that forest,” he said to you. “It seemed only fair the favor you owed me be something that pissed you off, as well.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you danced with him.

You noticed a couple beside you whispering to each other as they eyed you. It hit you then why he had invited you.

He was trying to embarrass you. He knew everyone would stare and judge you for being Lesser Fae. For your darker skin. For your shadows. For your Night Court fashion.

“I wouldn’t think your father would be too happy about you inviting me to this,” you said, your shadows sticking close to you.

“My father doesn’t care who I fuck,” he replied. “Just who I marry.” Your eyes went wide, and you shook your head.

“Sex is not part of the arrangement,” you reminded him.

“Of course not,” he assured. “But people will assume. And talk. And if my father gets word, he won't care.”

“He sure seemed to care who your mother was fucking,” you shot back.

You didn’t know if the rumors were true, but everyone spoke of his mother and Helion. And everyone talked of how Beron found out.

“What did I tell you about saying a word against my mother?” he snarled, his entire demeanor changing as his grip on your waist tightened.

“You invited me here to humiliate me,” you replied smoothly. “I will say what I please.”

“I don’t know what gives you that idea,” he denied. “Besides, you and your brother are bastard born, so they say. I can only assume the worst of your own mother.”

“You know nothing of my mother or the conditions under which I was born,” you replied, face heating.

You thought of your mother, the female that you had only been able to see once a week for the first six years of your life. You hadn't spoken a word to her in those years, your trauma rendering you speechless until you were eleven.

But she had loved you. She would hold you during that hour, letting you nuzzle your face in her neck as she stroked your hair and sang to you.

Now, she lived in a house Azriel had bought for her. You went to visit her at least once a month. She was everything to you. She and Az were all you had for so long.

Hearing Eris insult her struck something deep in you. Your sweet mother had been insulted enough, having two children out of wedlock. She'd been shunned, shamed, and tormented. She didn't deserve any of it.

Eris was studying you as you lost yourself in your thoughts. You glanced back at him, eyes narrowing.

"Neither of us will speak of the other's mothers," you said simply.

"Fine," he agreed.

The dance was one you'd never learned. But he was leading, and you were picking it up quickly. He spun you around, then dipped you.

As you glanced up at him, you noticed how beautiful his amber eyes truly were. You stared into them, your brows furrowing. Something was tying you to him . . . something palpable.

You gasped as something snapped into place, a string going taut between you two.

"Mate mate mate," your shadows whispered.

His eyes went wide, wild, as you tore yourself from his grip.

"Wait--" he insisted.

But your shadows had winnowed you away before he could say another word.

»»————-　♔　————-««

Scorched Shadows Taglist: @the-sweet-psycho @hnyclover @lilyevansstudygroup @esposadomd @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria

Eris Taglist:

Comment to be added to the Scorched Shadows or Eris taglists!

»»————-　♔　————-««

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azsazz · 8 months ago

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Hide (Part 2)

Eris x Rhysands!Sister Reader

Summary: Anon Req: Literally in love with every fic you write. I know your requests are closed but in the future, could you write something where Eris and the reader see each other and there’s a lot of tension and they’re secretly mates but no one knows? I’m curious to see how you’d end it!

Warnings: Angst

Word Count: 1,428

[Part One]

Notes: Obsessing over this one.

_________________________________________

You swallow harshly at your brother’s question, eyes darting over to catalogue your mate. You try not to startle in your seat when a wall of harsh autumn winds slams between your bond. He’s only protecting you; you must remind yourself. There’s a fine tremble to your hands, so you clench them together in your lap.

Azriel notes the move, your restlessness as Rhysand stares down your mate like these are his last moments on this plane of existence. You have no idea what Rhysand’s going to do to Eris, but with the thick darkness rolling from his shoulders and slowly filling the room, whatever it might be will not be good.

You cannot let that happen.

“Rhysand—"

Your brother holds up a hand, his glare swinging towards you. The thin line of betrayal ringing his eyes makes your stomach roil. You hadn’t meant to break his trust and you never intended on keeping secrets from him, but with the courts on the edge of war…

“Do. Not. Speak.” Rhysand’s demand is a death knell of its own. When you were young, you remember how he’d always been the one to listen to any of your problems, even when they felt silly. He would always offer you a solution if you were looking for one, or a piece of cake if you only wanted to wallow in your feelings.

The smell of burning wood answers his harsh words.

Cassian shifts in his seat, eyeing Eris. He leans further back in his chair and places his hand on the table, the wicked curve of the short blade clutched firmly in his hand pointing directly at your mate.

Your bond flares, eyes going hard at the sight of the threat to your mate. You’re ready to jump out of your seat, scramble across the table to tackle the male, no matter how much you consider him family. You know all of Cassian’s weak spots, and your gaze is calculating as you decide which maneuver will draw him away from your mate.

The single look Eris sends you keeps you from reacting.

Instead, you settle back in your seat, showing Eris your unfaltering trust for him. You will allow your mate to say his piece to your brother. You might be crossing your arms over your chest with a hard look all your own, but you will heed Eris’ silent ask of you.

Eris is a mask of nonchalance, and you wish he hadn’t blocked you from his feelings, but it’s better this way. He cannot have your reactions to your brother muddling his own feelings. It’s safer for the both of you to keep to yourself right now, no matter how much you hate the idea of being apart from him like this.

“I will ask you once more,” Rhysand’s voice is filled with smoke. “How long have you been putting your filthy fucking hands on my sister.”

Something flares in Eris’ russet eyes that makes you want to bite, to snarl at your brother for his cruelness. You gnaw the insides of your cheeks to keep from snapping.

“Would hearing that answer please you, High Lord?” Eris snarks back. He sits easily in his seat as if this isn’t an interrogation at all, as if they’re all bantering over the weather and Rhysand isn’t looking at him like he’s about to unleash the beast within him that he keeps on a short chain. The only give to Eris’ temper are the burnt handprints on the armrests of the chair he’s lounging in. “To know that the fires of autumn light the stars of night?”

You want to hiss at him for his words. You should’ve known better that Eris would do nothing but taunt your brother. He is nowhere near as powerful as Rhys, especially since he is still under the rule of his father, but his specialty is that mouth of his.

You try not to think about how he uses that mouth when he’s with you, the yearning for him flooding your body so deeply you clench your thighs together. Another motion that Azriel tracks, cocking his head a little as he watches you with that unnervingly stoic face of his. You shoot him a pleading look but are unable to make out how he reads into your pleas not to hurt your mate.

Rhysand bares his teeth in warning. The flare of his nostrils and the stars winking out of his eyes tells you that he’s moments away from unleashing his wrath upon Eris.

“Two years,” you blurt and all gazes swing your way. You don’t look at anyone else except for Eris, your eyes soft and pleading. His eyes flicker back and forth between yours and his shoulders slump a little, cracking the steel trap blocking your bond to send down a cool rush of apology that you accept with a soft nod. “We’ve been mated for two years.”

There’s a sharp exhale coming from your brother but you can’t look away from your mate. Two years since you offered him that dessert from your favorite bakery the one time you’d been able to sneak away from your brother and his friends to meet Eris at the portal where Night crossed into Autumn.

Two years of fiery, passionate nights, hidden away in your own solace. Two years of a fresh breath of autumn, of copper hair and russet eyes and the warmest hands you’ve ever had the pleasure of touching. Two years of unyielding loyalty. Two years of too much time spent apart—

No more. You won’t have it. Rhysand can act as protective older brother as much as he wants but it isn’t going to stop you from being with Eris any longer.

Darkness of your own ekes out of you as you plant your hands on the smooth surface of the table and rise. You stare Rhysand down as the tendrils of black wind around his, Azriel, and Cassian’s wrists, pinning them to their spots. You are in no way matching Rhysand’s power, but he seems at a loss for words as you stand up for yourself, watching with those all too calculating feline eyes of his, allowing you your time.

Stalking around the table, you don’t break the High Lord’s gaze. You hold your chin high even if there’s a pinch of terror in your gut for this continued betrayal to your brother, to your court. But he has no idea what you’ve given up for this bond, how you’ve suffered being kept from your mate.

One day, you hope Rhysand will understand. Will understand why you halt a step behind where your mate is still trapped to his chair. Why you place a hand on his shoulder, the feeling of him after so long filling your lungs to maximum capacity. You haven’t ben able to breathe fully since you’ve been away from each other.

He’ll understand why it is that your actions look like you’re swearing fealty to another court, when you’ve already been a patron of autumn ever since you and Eris completed your mating bond.

“What are you—“ Your brother breathes when he realizes the severity of what you’re doing.

“I will not be kept from my mate any longer.” Your words are loud and sure. You think you’ve done a good job at standing up to Rhysand, until his eyes flicker and the house shakes on its studs.

All of the air is sucked from the room at your words. The strip of skin you’re touching on Eris’ neck warms, but it does little to settle you. You’re not out of the clear yet.

Slowly, all too slowly, Rhysand leans back in his seat. The way he’s looking at you makes you shift in your spot, the disbelief and in his eyes a bright streak before he snuffs it out, returning to the easy role of High Lord he’s practices meticulously for centuries.

It hurts to see.

With a careless flick of his hand he breaks through your shadows with ease. All of the darkness in the room dissipates, ever faithful to their master. You only hold an ounce of power compared to him.

The corner of his mouth curves, and if it’s a smirk or a snarl you don’t know, but neither is as harrowing as the words that slip past his lips. “I wonder which will get you killed faster—your loyalty or your love.” Rhysand stands, turning his back on you as he stalks towards the door. “Get out of my court.”

_________________________________________

Tagging those who commented if you don't want to be tagged on this just lmk <3 Some of you couldn't be tagged btw

Hide Taglist: @littlestw01f @aelin-thefirebreathingbitchqueen @naturakaashi @lexluvswriting @chybay22 @roseliey @acotar-thirst @teenagellamaangel @minaethrym @tothestarsandwhateverend @coolepowersthings @lena-davina @xyzmeh @meritxellao @shadowdaddysposts @callsigns-haze @mrs-azriel @eminvelaris @daily-does-of-sass @kennedy-brooke

#acotar #eris vanserra x reader #eris x reader #eris vanserra #eris acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #eris angst

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ladylokilaufeyson5 · 8 months ago

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Where The Shadows Dance - The Proposition (i)

Bodyguard!Azriel x AutumnDaughter!Reader

CHAPTER I: The Proposition

SUMMARY: Beron has invited the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court to spend a week in the Autumn Court. Azriel and the rest of the Court of Dream believe he has ulterior motives, and they are correct - but these motives come as a surprise.

WARNINGS: Um. Misogyny. love that for us (i hate the autumn court). swearing (the f-word (as in fuck)), y/n has daddy issues (bc beron is a cunt) and uh... i haven't read acotar in ages so apologies for any OC characteristics and forgetting everything about the autumn court. but i did read HOFAS recently so hopefully az isn't too out of character. also tw: beron

NOTE: so obviously Y/n is the daughter of the autumn court. we know they have red hair BUT i want this to be as less oc as possible so y/n has your colour hair and u can make up ur own story about why but mine is that she's 'rebellious' (as you'll see later on) and just dyes her hair. also special thank you to my moots @icey--stars and @fieldofdaisiies for proofreading my work! i love you guys<3

WORDS: 2.7K

Azriel glowered at the male sat across from him. Eris either didn't notice or pretended he didn't care as he reclined in his chair, one arm over the back and looking for all the world he was in his own home, rather than the Court Of Nightmares.

"Eris," Rhys drawled, "if you have any information to help us with this meeting with your father, we would appreciate it immensely."

The High Lord of the Autumn Court had invited the High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court to his castle for a week, as a gesture of good will, and an attempt to strengthen their bonds. Of course, the court was suspicious of the intent behind such actions. Although Azriel had sent his contacts in to find any sliver of information, his spies had come back empty-handed.

Eris rolled his shoulders, seemingly at ease despite being surrounded by the Night Court's most deadly warriors. "I am not entirely sure what he wants, but I assume it has something to do with my sister, Y/n."

Y/n, the only daughter of the High Lord of Autumn. She was quite young, by Fae standards – only seventy-nine. She had not fought in the war against Hybern, and had very little training according to Azriel's knowledge.

"Why her?" Feyre asked carefully.

Azriel heard the shift in her tone. She was wondering, as they all were, what Beron intended to do with her. The Autumn Court was just as backwards as the Court Of Nightmares, and females were considered little more than property.

Eris simply shrugged, either not hearing the implications in the High Lady's tone, or simply not caring. "That is all I know, I'm afraid."

Cassian grunted, his eyes still on the heir to the Autumn throne. No one was particularly happy about the bargain they had struck with him, but he seemed to be a willing ally. For now.

"What can you tell us about her?" Feyre inquired.

Eris watched her for a moment, before responding, "She is… wild. Untamed, and unpredictable."

Despite his words, Azriel sensed a flicker of admiration in his tone. Azriel stored that piece of information away. It could be a weakness of Eris's, his sister. They may need to exploit it one day.

"Sounds like my kind of lady," Mor grinned.

The fact that Mor bothered speak in Eris's presence was a gift that the heir did not appreciate enough. Azriel glanced sidelong at her, noticing the way her unbound golden hair cascaded down her back, and the amount of skin her low-cut red dress revealed. Once, looking at her like that would have sent Azriel mad with longing. But after she had confided in him, after she had revealed she could never love him back because she preferred females… some part of him had been relieved to let her go.

Eris scoffed at Mor's comment. "Yes, well, she irritates my father to no end."

There was a silence, and Azriel wondered whether Y/n annoyed Eris as well, before Rhys sighed, "Well, if that's all, Eris, I'm sure you have places to be."

The dismissal was clear in the High Lord's tone, and Eris rose from his chair with a nod before leaving the council room. Everyone was silent as the male left, all eyeing each other. Feyre and Rhys were looking at each other, a clear indication of their telepathic conversation, and Azriel watched the two with a hint of jealousy. Of course he was happy from them – finding one's mate was one of the most fulfilling things one could experience. But he couldn't help but feel a sense of longing for his own. It seemed he was the last of the court to find his mate, and he had a fear that he would never find them.

"Has anyone heard much about this Princess?" Cassian asked, looking towards Azriel.

Azriel shook his head. "She is one of the most guarded individuals in Prythian. My sources struggle to even see her."

"Very guarded indeed," Rhysand murmured.

The Court of Dreams debated between themselves the possibilities of what the High Lord of Autumn could want regarding his daughter. Azriel had a few of his own suspicions – to have her taken away, or perhaps trained in combat – but none of them seemed accurate.

After a while of debating plausible explanations for Beron's offer, the court decided to head home to the City of Starlight in order to get a good night's rest before their meeting tomorrow. The High Lord and High Lady were going, as well as Cassian and Azriel. Morrigan was not permitted in the Autumn Court, so she would stay behind with Nesta to hold down the fort while they were gone. Amren would also be travelling to the Autumn Court, and although the monster she was no longer crawled beneath her skin, she made most people wary.

As he lay in his bed, Azriel couldn't help but wonder what awaited him tomorrow. He was curious about what the Autumn High Lord wanted, especially regarding his daughter, although he was also wary. Although Autumn had helped them in the war, they couldn't be trusted. Azriel fell into an uneasy sleep, cautious of the days to come.

Azriel awoke at dawn the next day. They weren't due in the Autumn Court until the evening, so Azriel decided to go through his morning exercises. The Valkyries weren't up yet, so he went through his warm ups, taking his shirt off halfway through. The morning was uneventful, and Azriel ran over the information they had in his head. Eris had suggested that Beron may be seeking a favour of some sort, so perhaps it had something to do with that.

The day passed by quickly, and soon enough, those travelling to the Autumn Court had gathered in the living room of the River House, just as they had planned. Azriel and Cassian wore their scaled, black armour, while Rhys and Feyre wore their finery. Rhysand held his mate's arm, and Azriel grabbed onto Cassian, before winnowing to the entrance of the Autumn Court castle.

It was big, and made of stone. It was quite majestic, if Azriel was being honest – high towers and red and orange flags waving in the wind, large windows showcasing rich carpets and tapestries inside.

Rhys led the way, Feyre on his arm and Cassian and Azriel following closely, and Amren trailing behind. Guards monitored them as they passed through the halls, their armour heavier the closer they got to the throne room. Azriel marked each one as they passed, something he was sure Cassian and Rhysand were also doing.

The doors to the throne room opened, and revealed the High Lord of the Autumn Court sat atop a dais, the Lady of Autumn seated beside him. Beron's sons stood on his left, and his daughter was seated to her mother's right.

Azriel paused at the sight of her. She was beautiful, even by Fae standards. Her h/c hair shone in the Fae light liming the walls, piled neatly on her head in a braid crown. Y/n’s e/c eyes sparked with mischief and curiosity, skimming over the members of Azriel's Court, until they finally landed on him. Her gaze was mesmerising, and Azriel couldn't find it in himself to break it. A small smirk played at the corners of her mouth, as if she were aware of the effect she had on him, although Azriel's mask of icy cold had not budged even an inch. Azriel quickly tore his eyes away from the Daughter of Autumn, marking the guards posted by the doors and the dais, and counting the weapons each of Beron's sons carried.

"Beron," Rhysand purred, ever the arrogant High Lord, the mask back up despite the High Lords' meeting all those months ago. "So lovely to see you again. Thank you for inviting us to stay."

Beron rose from his dias and stalked towards the High Lord of the Night Court. Everyone tensed as he stepped closer and closer, and Azriel subtly reached for the dagger at his side. Beron's blood would spray across the marble floors the second Azriel suspected he would harm his High Lord or Lady. But Beron simply held his hand out, and Rhys gripped it tightly, his eyes holding a small amount of surprise.

"Rhysand. A pleasure to have you here," Beron replied. Azriel didn't miss the slight strain in his voice. "You must be hungry. Shall we?"

Beron inclined his head to the dining room and led the way with Rhysand and Feyre at his side. He hadn't even acknowledged the High Lady, something that made Azriel want to rip the male’s head off, but Rhys got there first.

“And what about my High Lady?” Rhys purred, a dangerous edge to his voice.

Beron’s smile faltered slightly, and he glanced at Feyre with a barely concealed look of distaste, as if he would rather rip off his own toenails than address a female with the same amount of respect that he would expect. Azriel felt a protective anger surge through him, and he watched carefully, curious as to what the High Lord’s next move would be.

“Of course,” Beron said, his voice dripping with fake courtesy. “My apologies, Lady Feyre. Of course it is wonderful to have you both visit.”

Cassian gave Azriel a look that said, And-what-about-us? Aren't-we-wonderful?

Azriel sent him a look back that said, Shut-the-fuck-up.

Beron led them all to the dining room, the Autumn colours present everywhere they looked. The chairs were all high-backed, and Azriel knew that Beron did not care if he and Cassian would be comfortable with their wings. Everyone took their seats — Beron at the head, Rhysand to his left, and Feyre beside him. Azriel sat next to his High Lady, Cassian taking his seat adjacent to the shadowsinger. The Lady of Autumn (still not a High Lady, despite the fact that Viviane was also now a High Lady) sat to Beron’s right, Eris beside her, and Y/n next to him, and across from Azriel. Azriel felt Y/n’s eyes on him, and he met her gaze. There was a curious look in her eyes, a look of anticipation mixed with mischief.

Dinner was served, an array of meats and vegetables placed on the table by servants, mostly lesser fairies. None of them looked Azriel in the eye, and he wondered if it was because they knew who and what he was, or if they’d been trained not to. Y/n, however, had no such qualms about this, and stared at the shadowsinger unabashedly.

Beron struck up a conversation with Rhys — small talk, something that Azriel internally cringed at, because it was definitely just to fill the silence. Ever the gracious guest, Rhysand responded in kind, although Azriel knew he was wondering what Beron’s ulterior motives were.

“How do your siphons work?”

The table went silent as Y/n spoke, her cunning eyes trained on Azriel. Beron looked at his daughter with a hint of irritation gleaming in his eyes, as if it was unacceptable for her to speak without permission. Azriel glanced at Rhysand, who was watching the daughter of Autumn with a hint of suspicion in his eyes.

“How do you know that is what they are called?” Rhys asked, his eyes trained on the only daughter of Autumn.

She shrugged, and answered, “I read a lot in my spare time. I remember reading about the Illyrians, and their siphons. If I remember correctly, Illyrians tend to possess only one, yet the two of you hold several.”

“There is no need to question our guests, Y/n,” Beron scolded firmly.

Y/n frowned. “I was simply curious.”

“Do not speak back to me,” Beron reprimanded, a burning fury now evident in his eyes.

Y/n slumped back into her chair slightly and bowed her head. “My apologies, Father.”

Beron didn’t even acknowledge his daughter before he turned back to Rhys, as if her mere existence didn’t deserve another moment of his time. Azriel watched the female in front of him as she stared at her plate, and felt a sense of sympathy for her. Azriel owed her nothing — he did not know the female in front of him, did not know if she even deserved his sympathy — and yet he felt the need to protect, to wipe that blank expression off of her face.

“Our siphons act as a conduit for our raw power,” Azriel offered, causing Y/n to look up. Beron paused, glancing at the shadowsinger and the Autumn daughter, and Azriel continued, “It helps to control our magic, to make it precise and nimble, rather than a messy outburst of power.”

Cassian gaped at his brother, as if he had never heard that many words come out of Azriel’s mouth in one sitting. While that was an inaccurate statement, it was true that Azriel never tended to speak in front of new people. He wasn’t sure why he had done so anyway. But Y/n bowed her head in thanks at the information, perhaps still wary of answering and speaking without her father’s permission, but Azriel had observed a small, triumphant light in the female’s eyes at his reply.

Azriel watched as that gleam faded when Beron cleared his throat, gaining the attention from everyone in the room.

“There is a reason why I have asked you here,” Beron stated.

“Surprise, surprise,” Cassian muttered, and Azriel elbowed him.

Beron glanced at Cassian for all of a second before continuing, “There has been an attempt on my daughter’s life.” Stunned silence met Beron’s words, and Azriel caught Y/n rolling her eyes. That raised his suspicion — were Beron’s words false, or did she simply believe it was not an issue? “If it appeals to you,” Beron went on, “I seek to employ one of your Night Court warriors as her personal bodyguard.”

Rhys blinked once, his only sign of surprise. Beron looked at Rhys expectantly, and Azriel could have guessed the thoughts that flew around Rhys’s head.

“Why one of my warriors?” Rhys inquired carefully.

“I hoped it might help strengthen bonds between our courts,” Beron expressed.

Azriel watched the High Lord of the Autumn Court carefully. There seemed to be no ulterior motives hidden within his demeanour — he did not shift nervously, none of his facial features even so much as twitched.

“And say I agree to this,” Rhys said casually, “how long would you hold onto one of my warriors?”

“Until the threat against my daughter’s life is eliminated,” Beron answered.

There was silence for a few moments while everyone processed what was happening. Azriel looked at Eris to see the male’s eyes on his father. They were carefully guarded, a mask in place to ensure no one was able to discern what he was thinking. Azriel turned his gaze to Y/n, and a shadow slithered up by his ear.

She does not believe it to be such a serious matter, the shadow whispered. She wishes for this dinner to be over so she may go back to her quarters and finish her novel.

Azriel blinked in surprise at the information from his shadow. Usually, his shadows would tell him what others could not see and hear — but this felt almost like too much. Yes, his shadows had a tendency to recognise when someone was lying, or what weapons they were concealing, but to give him a person’s unvoiced opinion on a matter was something new.

But indeed, with her chin propped up on her delicate hand, and twirling her dessert fork in the other, she appeared to be completely disinterested. Azriel turned his gaze back to the male beside her, to see Eris already watching his sister. His eyes were cold and calculating as he regarded her, as if he was mentally playing out how this ‘bodyguard’ situation would go. With the slight frown tugging the corners of his lips downwards, Azriel assumed Eris did not believe it would end well.

“Please, do take time to come to a decision,” Beron offered. “I do understand this is a lot to ask.”

“We shall have an answer by the end of the week,” Rhys said with a nod.

Beron nodded back, and Azriel wondered what they were getting themselves into.

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thatbloodymuggle · 3 months ago

Text

MASTERMIND (vi)

SIX - FROM ASHES

PAIRING: eris vanserra x reader

WORD COUNT: 7.2k

SERIES MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: language, lots of plot building, reader-centric, non-canon usage of real history

A/N: no eris in this chapter, but he'll be back soon🫠

“No luck?” the High Lord of the Night Court drums his fingers along the oak of his armchair.

“She’s stubborn as a mule,” a disgruntled Cassian slumps into his usual spot at the meeting table, “I think I’d have better luck convincing Tamlin to join our court.”

Rhys’s leisure finger-tapping halts, his knuckles turning white as he grips the arms of his chair so tightly it starts to splinter. Beside him, Cassian runs a hand through his unruly hair, shoulders tense. And across from him, Mor’s despondent eyes study the stem of her wine glass as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world. The rest of the table is a mixture of similar states of frustration, anger, and worry: Azriel’s jaw ticks, Feyre’s hopeful smile falters, Amren’s eyes roll. Everyone shifts with unease at the thick tension in the air, hallmarked by the glaringly obvious empty seat between Mor and Cassian. Well, everyone except Nesta, whose stone-cold expression doesn’t so much as twitch at the admittedly predictable news.

It’s been three months. Three months since you returned to the House of Wind in a heap of heartbreak. Three months of Azriel’s shadows chasing you down as you hop from court to court like a vagabond. Three months filled with visits from nearly every member of the Inner Circle. But despite their best attempts, their most heart-wrenching pleas, you remain steadfast: you are not the woman you used to be, and until you can find her, the Night Court cannot be your home.

“Where is she now?” Feyre breaks the heavy silence.

“Winter Court,” Azriel grunts, “She moved from Dawn last week.”

“And now that she knows we’ve found her, she’s probably gone already,” Cassian grumbles, face still sour from his rather unpleasant encounter with you.

The waning wood of Rhys’s chair finally snaps, sending pieces of splintered oak flying through the air. Feyre winces beside him, and for the first time Mor’s eyes move from the crystal glass.

“This is getting ridiculous,” Rhys seethes, “We’ve given her space. She’s had her fun running around like a nomad. It’s time for her to come back home.”

Azriel grunts in agreement, the muscles underneath his sculpted arms flexing as he crosses them across the table. Feyre pulls her bottom lip between her teeth in contemplation.

“We can’t force her back here if she’s not ready,” Feyre counters softly.

“Yes, we can,” Amren snaps, “Ready or not, serving in this court is her duty.”

“If we force her against her will, she’ll never forgive us,” Cassian grumbles, his wings fluttering slightly in a sign of irritation, “She made that painfully clear today.”

Mor sets her wine glass down on the table, and the soft clink draws everyone’s attention. They all stare, waiting with bated breath for her to speak.

During the first few weeks of your disappearance, Mor was an emotional wreck. She visited you each time she caught wind of your new location. She couldn’t stand to see her sister, her own flesh and blood, destroyed by the same male who hurt her centuries ago. But as the weeks stretched into months, and each visit became more and more reviled, she’d begun losing hope. It was a pain like no other—being unable to connect to the one person she loves unequivocally. The emptiness in your eyes, the disdain in your lips, only grew with each attempt, until she’d given up completely. Until she’d resigned herself to sulking in the corner of the room, staring at inanimate objects with a permanent frown on her face.

“Leave her be,” Mor’s uncharacteristically cold tone slices through the air, “If she wants to wallow in her own self-pity, then let her.”

Azriel shifts in discomfort. His shadows swirl around the empty chair, as if mourning your absence. His wings twitch behind him, itching to search every inch of Prythian until he relocates you—or throttles Eris Vanserra’s throat.

The aftermath of your abrupt departure was explosive, to say the least. Watching you return bloodied and bare at the hands of him was far too familiar. It was a sight Azriel had witnessed once centuries ago—one he so deeply wishes could be cleansed from his memories forever. Once the panic that accompanied your return had settled, it was a blazing fury that took its place. The second the Autumn Court heir stepped into the Spring Court for his monthly meeting with Cassian, the Spymaster had him pinned against a tree with the Truthteller to his throat. It took every ounce of his will power, along with Cassian’s incessant reminder that Eris would be no use dead, to keep Azriel from slitting his throat on the spot.

With your unabating avoidance of the topic, the Inner Circle is still ignorant to the details of your affair. Azriel, on the other hand, knew from the second he laid eyes on you, crumpled and broken on the living room floor. The rest of the Night Court entourage was quick to catch on—but it was him, the true limerence, who knew it from the start. And with his centuries spent pining after a female who can never love him back, he is unable to fathom the notion of a male rejecting a bond gifted by the Mother herself.

“She needs us,” Azriel avoids Mor’s penetrating gaze, “We cannot leave family behind.”

Red, hot ire contorts onto Mor’s features, but her retort is cut short by Rhys’s commanding tone.

“So we don’t force her,” Rhys crosses his arms over the table, “We deliver a message. Tell her that if she wants to keep her position in this court’s assembly, she is to report back to the House of Wind within the week—otherwise, we’ll find someone else to fill her position.”

Nesta, who’s been eerily quiet, scoffs humorlessly, “If you think that’s going to work, then you must truly be dense.” Rhys’s nostrils flare and he grinds his teeth. Cassian places a steadying hand on her thigh underneath the table, but the eldest Archeron sister continues, “If you’re going to give her an ultimatum, you might as well chain her up and lock her here. She’s far too intelligent, more than all of you combined, might I add, to fall for something as foolish as reverse psychology.”

Rhys leans forward and a menacing snarl curls onto his lips at his sister-in-law’s insubordination. Feyre shoots a warning glance at her sister, but the damage has already been done.

“I’m not chaining anyone up,” the High Lord seethes.

“It sure seems that way,” Nesta retaliates, ignoring Cassian’s blunt nails digging into her thigh through her leathers, “It’s your fault she’s too traumatized to come back here. You sent her there. You encouraged her to get close to him. So maybe you should stop projecting, and give her the space she needs to sort her shit out.”

Pure, unbridled rage blazes in Rhys’s violet eyes. His fists slam against the table, sending red liquid sloshing out of Mor’s glass. Feyre flinches, and the two Illyrian warriors keep their eyes down. But despite the fury pouring from the High Lord, Nesta keeps her chin held high, her eyes narrowed in a punishing glare.

“The only person at fault is that Autumn Court piece of scum, girl,” Amren snaps, her cold eyes just as deadly as Nesta’s, “We’d be better off getting rid of him, once and for all.”

“He’s no use dead,” Feyre counters, placing a steadying hand on her mate’s shoulder.

“He’s not much use alive either,” Azriel grumbles.

“I’m done with this conversation,” Mor abruptly stands from the table, her doe eyes void of emotion, “Do what you will. I don’t care.”

“Sit down,” Rhys’s tone is commanding, leaving no room for debate. She purses her lips, but reluctantly follows his instructions. Mor diverts her gaze back to the stem of the wine glass, retreating to her earlier fascination with the unfascinating object. “As much pleasure as I’d take in seeing the light leave the bastard’s eyes, we’re not killing Eris,” Rhys reasons, “And as it stands, I see no better option than leveraging her position as a member of this court’s politics.”

Nesta narrows her eyes, and he matches her glare.

“It’s worth a try. We’ve all tried reasoning with her, and it’s only pushed her further,” Amren affirms before grumbling under her breath, “Stupid girl.”

Rhys relaxes back into his seat, but the tension in his shoulders remains, “Well, then if we’re all in agreement, I can draft a—”

“Let me talk to her,” Nesta interrupts.

“No,” the syllables roll off Rhys’s tongue before she can even finish her sentence.

The table falls silent when Feyre immediately retaliates, “Yes.”

The High Lord and Lady stare at one another, each unrelenting. The youngest Acheron sister cocks a brow, as if challenging her mate. Her pink lips are pulled tight, shoulders back; leaving no question that she is, in fact, his equal. Rhys bristles as Nesta’s voice sounds through the air once again, but keeps his gaze trained on Feyre.

“Clearly, all of you have failed miserably getting through to her,” Nesta’s cold tone softens slightly as Cassian kicks her foot underneath the table, “I’ve—” she falters, “I’ve been there before—in that seemingly impenetrable darkness. So let me talk to her.”

The anger laced onto Rhys’s features wavers, his lips dipping into a frown. His hard gaze softens, and he releases a long sigh. “If the High Lady wishes it, then so be it,” he relents.

Feyre fights the triumphant smile tugging at her rosy lips. Nesta does not.

With that, the plan slowly unfurls. Azriel will begin his search first thing in the morning, and once he relocates you, Nesta will pay you a visit. Much to her displeasure, Rhys still insists on writing his stupid letter for her to deliver. However, with agitation clear in the air, Nesta decides to let him have this small victory—if only to preserve his fragile ego. Through it all, Mor’s eyes don’t waver from her wine glass. But despite her detachment, a small sliver of hope dares to break through the solemn room. Everyone is wary, for hope has proven time and time again to be futile. And still, they can’t help but latch on to it for dear life.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

A wise philosopher once said, “By three methods we may learn wisdom: First, by reflection, which is noblest; Second, by imitation, which is easiest; and third by experience, which is the bitterest.” But in all Confucius’s wisdom, you wholeheartedly believe his list should be reordered.

First should be imitation, which you agree is easiest. You’ve acquired wisdom through imitation for as long as you can remember. From immersing yourself between endless shelves of books, to regurgitating the words of Prythian’s most treasured scholars, you are well practiced in imitation. And despite its short-sightedness, it has granted you wisdom, albeit superficial.

Second, in your mind, is experience. In your 70 years of existence, you’ve only recently started to dip your toes into this derivative of wisdom. And it is your precisely your thirst for wisdom that has driven you to seek experience in the first place. It’s that insatiable hunger, like a demon lurking on your shoulder, that initiated the cascade of experiences that has stripped away your sense of self entirely, leaving you an empty canvas, ready to be remolded. But despite the soul-shattering pain that has come along with experience, you don’t agree with Confucius. For reflection is far more bitter.

How does one practice introspection when they’ve lost their sense of self? When all there is to reflect on is an empty void, filled only by imitation and limited experience? It was meant to be an impossible feat, you suppose. If wisdom was so easy to come by, then wars wouldn’t ignite. Hate wouldn’t fester. And love would prevail.

It’s that void that plagues your mind as you stare into the crystal-clear lake below, shimmering with the reflection of a ghost of a woman. Even as you stretch your lips and wiggle your fingers, watching how it mirrors in the water, you don’t recognize the being staring back. The irony of it is glaring—staring at your physical reflection in search of that otherworldly one. But what else can you do when you’ve traversed all travelable land, met every breed of faerie, and still your only semblance of self is that tug deep in your chest that grows duller each day?

The woman in the lake ripples as a bright, orange fish breaks the surface briefly before swimming back down into its depths. With a long sigh, you peel your eyes from the crystal-clear water and divert your gaze to the surrounding trees. They shine a deep, emerald green underneath the beating sun. After several days spent traversing the mountains, creeks, and valleys of the Day Court, you’ve found that this little nook, tucked quietly along the southern border, is your favorite.

The rolling hills and warming, golden rays are something out of a children’s book. The nights are short; a stark contrast to the beautiful darkness of Velaris. And although you do miss the winking stars and smiling moon, something about this place feels…calming.

During the first two months of your excursion, you stayed far away from Night and Day, and you avoided Autumn like the plague. Feeling so disconnected from yourself, you opted for the more foreign parts of Prythian. A week in Summer, followed by a few days in Spring, before venturing into Dawn. Winter was your favorite. Without a real home, and with a handful of supplies, the biting winds were vicious—but they numbed the ache in your chest. That is, until you were sniffed out for…what is it, the sixteenth time now?

Your lips dip into a scowl at the thought. Each time you feel like you’re on the brink of something—of some kind of clarity, some self-discovery—Azriel’s meddling shadows rip you away from solitude. You know that your family means well. But telling them, time and time again, to kindly fuck off is becoming rather tedious. You’re not heartless; it’s quite the opposite, really. Each time you look into their eyes—their pitiful, dejected eyes—it rouses a storm of emotions deep inside your gut. You can’t stand the way they look at you like some helpless, wounded animal that bites at any helping hand. The way they look at you like you’re broken. It’s an unwelcome confirmation of your deepest fear: that you are, in fact, irreparable, crippled by the only person who’s made you feel alive.

So, you continue to bite at their helping hands, constantly moving in search of that stupid introspection Confucius speaks so highly of. It’s how you’ve found yourself here, in the place that your mother once lived in, the place she once loved. It’s odd; exploring land that is technically your home, but that you’ve never seen before. You can’t help but wonder what your life would look like had you grown up outside the walls of that library. You imagine that you and your mother would have lived in a quaint cottage in this little nook in the south, where the hills stretch so far into the horizon, they seem infinite. You imagine you would have grown up swimming in this lake, climbing the luscious, green trees until your fingers splintered.

The soft smile on your lips drops instantly as you catch sight of a dark movement in your peripheral. You whip around, just in time to see tendrils of shadows retreat into the trees. A scowl contorts onto your features. The stupid Spymaster should have known that his shadows wouldn’t fare well in the blistering daylight of this court.

“Fool,” you shout out into the air. Only the birds chirp back—but you know the message was received.

You reluctantly haul yourself from the grass and begin your trek back to your temporary abode. The grass quivers beneath your stomping feet. Is a week of peace and quiet so much to ask? How many hurtful words does it take for them to give up? You don’t slow down as you approach the abandoned cottage. The hinges of the broken door groan in protest as you swing it open. Sun rays peak through the holes in the roof, shining down onto the dirty, wooden floorboards. It smells of rust and mildew, a testament to its centuries of neglect. But with only a handful of coins left in your pocket, it does the job.

Your hands tremble with agitation as you haphazardly throw your few personal belongings, strewn about the small house, into your single bag. You don’t have time to spare. Azriel surely knows he was caught, and he no doubt alerted Rhys immediately. Someone will be here soon with another futile plea to bring you home. You can only hope that you’ll be out of here before they arrive. Just as you snap the buttons of your bag shut, the hinges of the door groan again behind you.

You squint your eyes shut and clench your jaw, willing yourself to maintain some semblance of composure. You can tell by their light footsteps that it’s not one of the males—thank the Mother, because if Cassian returned he would be hobbling back to Velaris missing a limb.

“Isn’t this charming?”

That aloof tone could only belong to one person. Your tight grip on your bag loosens slightly, and your eyes widen with surprise. You turn slowly, brows furrowed as you take in Nesta’s appearance. Her golden-brown hair is braided on top of her head as usual, not a strand out of place. She wanders around the dreadful space, studying each dust-covered corner as if you’re not there. The initial shock fades, and the frown returns to your face.

“I didn’t know you were doing Rhys’s dirty work now,” you retort coolly.

She pauses her mindless exploration and turns on her heels. Her cold eyes are striking, as always, and she doesn’t hide her scrutinizing gaze as she scans you from head to toe. You’ve looked better, it says. Nesta looks dreadfully bored as she replies, “I’m not—Well, I suppose I am,” she pulls a crumpled piece of parchment from her brassiere, “He requested that I deliver this. But if I were you, I’d burn it.”

Your eye the letter in her hand warily, as if touching it will somehow transport you back to the House of Wind. Nesta rolls her eyes and waves the parchment in her hand, “If you don’t take it, then I’m going to have to answer to his bruised ego.”

Reluctantly, you take the letter from her waiting hand and blindly set it aside, “Is that it?”

“Pretty much,” she quips.

“You’re not going to grovel and plea for me to come home?” you cross your arms over your chest.

“I don’t grovel,” she scoffs.

The tension in your body unfurls slightly, but you remain alert. You know Nesta is honest—but why on Earth would Rhys send her here?

“I’ll see myself out then,” the eldest Archeron sister juts her chin slightly in a farewell nod. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, watching intently as she turns on her heel and strides back towards the broken door.

“Wait,” you blurt before you can stop yourself. She pauses, ears perked expectantly. Maybe it’s her complete nonchalance, or her abrupt bluntness. But the way Nesta looks at you, like a real person and not some kicked puppy, strikes a chord within you. It stirs a realization that it’s not company you want to avoid, but rather the wrong kind of company.

“You can stay, if you’d like,” your voice is hesitant, but doesn’t waver.

Nesta turns slowly. Her icy eyes remain, but a ghost of a smile plays on her rosy lips, “Okay. But not in this dump.”

You roll your eyes at the way she crinkles her nose in response to the mildew seeping through the walls. You’re sure you don’t smell much better, not having had a proper bath in at least a week.

“Fine,” you deadpan, “We can walk.”

Nesta lets you lead the way, out of the abandoned cottage and into the green beauty of Day. The sun shines as brightly as ever as you fall into a comfortable rhythm, striding leisurely side by side. You note the wonderment in Nesta’s piercing eyes, drinking in the sweet breeze that hallmarks the Day Court.

“I’m surprised it took you so long to venture here,” she remarks, “I’m not sure I’ve seen such…serenity before.”

You shrug as you step over a fallen log, “It’s nice.” Understatement of the century. “I quite liked Winter, though.”

Nesta snorts, “What did you squat in there? An igloo?”

She can surely feel your glare burning holes in the side of her head, but her eyes remain trained on the full-bodied trees above.

“A tupiq, actually,” you retort. In retrospect, an igloo would have been better. “I liked the cold. It was…numbing.”

An unspoken tension hangs in the otherwise crisp air. You’re not sure why the small sliver of vulnerability rolls off your tongue. It’s not a new revelation—but saying it aloud, for someone else to hear, is different.

“A stark contrast to the blazing inferno that drove you here,” Nesta states flagrantly.

A dull tug deep in your chest halts you in your tracks. Your eyes narrow to slits, and Nesta finally meets your punishing gaze.

“What’s your play here?” you hiss.

She quirks a brow, “There’s no play. I didn’t realize Eris was a dirty word.”

His name rolls so nonchalantly off her tongue, and you physically stumble back with a wince. You haven’t heard his name in months. It was a boundary not even your half-sister dared to breech during her many unwelcome visits. Hearing that four-letter name brings on a swirl of feelings you’ve tried for so long to suppress. Nesta’s piercing expression softens slightly as she observes the change in your demeanor. She opens her mouth to apologize, but you speak before she has the chance.

“It’s not—he’s…he’s not,” you try, and fail, to keep your voice steady.

She nods slowly and wets her lips before replying, “Well, I’m glad you’re not letting a male dictate your life.”

Your lips curl into a smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. The irony of it is sobering. Despite your expert avoidance of any thoughts plagued by him, he has dictated your life from the moment you left Velaris. You’ve run like a coward, chased by his ghost, in search of some mirage of clarity that he has made unattainable.

“I noticed your copy of Confucius’s Analects,” Nesta halts your rapid spiral, “In that shithole you’ve been squatting in. Interesting choice, given your…light packing.”

You can’t help but glance at the lake in the distance. Déjà vu washes over you as you’re reminded of your earlier musings by the crystal-clear water.

“I didn’t know you’ve read his works,” you reply simply.

Nesta shrugs and examines her long nails, picking at the cuticles, “I might have indulged myself in your personal copy while you were in Autumn.”

A faint smile plays at your lips, “You’ve outgrown your smut books?”

“Not in the slightest,” she laughs unabashedly, “Just thought I’d supplement them with some light reading.”

Ancient philosophy is hardly light reading. But this is Nesta you’re talking to.

“What did you think?” you ask, eyes still trained on the blue in the horizon.

She sits down on a nearby log, picking at her nails in thought. You seat yourself on a large rock across the path.

“I agree with most of his musings,” she hums, “Although I find them to be rather unremarkable. I find it silly that the world still marvels a regular, old male, as if his theories were anything more than common sense.”

Your eyes widen slightly. Nesta’s pessimism shouldn’t surprise you—yet you’re still taken aback by her blatant disregard for one of history’s most renowned scholars.

“I think you underestimate the acuity of the general population.”

She shrugs, “All I’m saying is keeping my nose stuck in books written by senile males is futile when I have a mind sharper than theirs,” she pauses, “Maybe one written by a female as wise as you would be more worth my time.”

You scoff, “I’m far from wise.”

“I think you’re plenty wise,” Nesta holds your gaze, “If you dare to believe it.”

Goosebumps prickle along your arms, and you’re not sure if it’s from the billowing breeze or Nesta’s candidness. You avoid her gaze, opting instead to stare out at the blue in the horizon. Silver lines your eyes as you mull over her words. Perhaps she is right—reading about introspection does not grant one knowledge. It’s merely another form of imitation. And maybe if you looked within yourself for long enough, you’d see what she sees—that wisdom comes from within. You blink back tears, and your bottom lip quivers.

“I miss you all. More than you know,” you barely speak above a whisper, “But every time I look at them—every time I look at her…it feels like drowning. Like gasping for air, and water rushing in. Because I can’t be the friend, the sister they want me to me.”

The billowing breeze stops, leaving the air around you deadly quiet. The trees seem to lean in, holding their breath as they wait for your next words.

“I can’t look them in the eye when all I can see, touch, taste, feel is…is Eris.”

The onlooking trees shudder as you utter his name for the first time in three months. And for the first time in three months, a hairline crack appears in the walls you’ve so carefully constructed. The floodgate hasn’t broken, but a single tear slips out. It descends the apple of your cheek and into the corner of your trembling lips. The droplet stirs something inside of you, tugs on the string buried deep within your chest in a mournful plea.

“Don’t come back.”

The breeze billows again as Nesta’s steady tone slice through the air. You peel your watery eyes away from the lake, and look at her…really look at her. Her expression is nearly indiscernible beneath the stone-cold mask she wears so well. But the slight dip in the corners of her eyes betray her, exposing the heart-wrenching understanding that lies within.

“What?” you barely recognize your own voice.

“Don’t come back,” she repeats with conviction, “Don’t let them tell you what to do. Don’t let them dictate how you heal.”

You watch, dumbfounded, as she rises from the log and brushes the dirt from her silky dress. For the first time in your life, Nesta gives you a smile. A real, honest smile, so fleeting you think you could’ve imagined it. Before you can utter another word, she’s gone with the billowing wind.

You raise a shaky hand and wipe the pooled tear from your lips with the pad of your thumb. The golden thread tugs steadily in the chasm of your chest, like the beat of a heart that doesn’t belong to you. You rise from the boulder on wobbly legs and begin your walk back to the dingy cottage. You time your steps with the tugging thread. The wistful breeze doesn’t reach your ears as you immerse yourself in your swirling thoughts. You don’t give yourself the reprieve of blocking them out, of suppressing them—not this time. Instead, you let them carry you inside the mold-filled house, guide you to your packed bag, and urge you to dig out a roll of parchment and a pen.

You slump onto the dirty ground. As you roll out the parchment, you feel your head clear for the first time since you left Autumn. The fog of guilt, doubt, despair lifts. And as you set pen to page, you’re able to discern your own handwriting—delicate pen strokes that belong solely, perfectly, to you. Daughter of Marjorie, Friend of the Night Court, Sister of Morrigan, and Mate of the Autumn Court Heir. You’re all of it, all at once.

Ink smudges from the soft pitter-patter of salty tears. With each droplet that falls, another boarded window is ripped away, shining light that’s been hiding for months. Even as they stream down, wracking your body to its bones, you let that tug deep inside your chest guide your steady hand.

As the days blur into nights, you write with an intensity born of both clarity and urgency. The tears that once fell now blend with ink, each drop a testament to the rawness of your words. And each soft scratch of the pen draws you just a little bit closer to reclaiming your voice.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You’re not quite sure what brought you here, to the House of Wind. Maybe it’s a moment of madness, brought on by the endless stream of tears you’ve been holding back for months. Maybe it’s the unedited, albeit complete, manuscript in your satchel. Or maybe it’s sheer exhaustion from writing from dusk till dawn, and the whole day in-between, three times over. Perhaps all of the above. But there’s three things you’re sure of: your head feels like it’s about to split in two, your hand aches so badly it may fall off, and you’re so nervous to walk through those doors that you might be sick.

You rock back and forth on your heels as you stare at the entrance atop 10,000 winding steps, frozen in place. You feel like a dog, returning home with its tail between its legs, after biting the hand of its caregiver. And you have absolutely no idea what the hell you’re going to say. Nesta was right. You should’ve stayed far away, continued your aimless journey until you could work up the courage to do this. You stumble backwards, but before you can flee the doors swing open.

Your breath catches in your throat as violet eyes stare back at you. They’re wide, like an open book. You can read it all, every footnote of his emotions: trepidation, remorse, but above all, relief. You’re not sure if he wants to punch you or kiss you. But before you can utter a word, he strides forward and engulfs you in his strong arms. He holds you tight, afraid that if he lets go, you’ll slip through his fingers once again. The unstated desperation twists your gut, washing away every ounce of hesitation. For the first time in months, you don’t deny yourself the comfort of human touch and wrap your arms around his broad shoulders. He shudders underneath your hold and buries his faces into the crook of your shoulder. It’s in his embrace that you realize you’re not a dog limping back to its owner—rather, you’re a soldier returning from war, battered, but whole.

“I’m sorry,” Rhys mumbles, his heavy breath tickling your skin.

You frown and move to push him away, but his grip around your frail body only tightens.

“For what?”

“For sending you there,” he doesn’t miss a beat, “For not being there for you—for not being the brother you needed me to be.”

His words chip at a piece of your healing heart. “Please don’t apologize,” your voice wavers, “It’s not your fault. It’s not anybody’s fault. This is just one of those things life, in all her ambiguity, throws at us—and I’m better for it. Even if she’s a raging bitch sometimes.”

He chuckles deeply, the vibration warming your whole body.

“She is,” he grins against you, “I’m just happy you’re home. Even though you reek.”

You release a watery laugh, “I know.” You swallow down the lump in your throat and unravel yourself from his tight embrace. “I haven’t decided yet, though—if I’ll be staying or not.”

The brilliant violet of his eyes dims, and it takes every ounce of willpower to hold your ground.

“You’re not staying?” his voice is eerily steady.

“I don’t know,” you avoid his penetrating gaze, “I want to. But I have…stipulations.”

Rhys’s hopeful gaze hardens slightly. “Stipulations?” he deadpans.

Something moves in your peripheral, and you glance up at one of the arched windows just in time to see the curtain snap shut. “Can we go somewhere more private to talk?”

He nods tersely. He remains deadly calm, wary that one wrong slip of his tongue could send you running again. You immediately miss the warmth of his welcome, but he still maintains a certain softness as he holds his arm out to you. You hook your arm through his, wrapping your dirty fingers around his bicep. You close your eyes as the world twists and folds until you’re standing with him in a familiar room.

The extravagance of his office makes you harshly aware of just how filthy you are. Months of travel have coalesced into the grime underneath your uncut fingernails, the tangled knots of hair on your head. Rhys takes a seat behind his desk, and you warily stare at the chair opposite it. A blush dusts across your cheeks at the prospect of dirtying the velvet cushion, but he nods his head in a wordless command, and you take a seat.

“Before I start, I want to…apologize,” you swallow down the lump in your throat, “It was never my intention to hurt or worry any of you. I just needed some time to sort things out.” They’re far from sorted. “But I could’ve done so without my unkind words.”

Rhys nods, his sharp features softening slightly, “I know. And I should’ve given you space, so it cancels out.”

Some of the tension slips from your shoulders, but your back remains stiff. You wet your chapped lips and take an anchoring breath before continuing, “I don’t know if I’m ready to return. But I don’t think I’ll ever feel ready. And if there’s one thing my…absence has taught me, it’s that I can’t sit around and wait for life to pass me by.”

The bag on your lap weighs heavier as you’re reminded of the manuscript tucked neatly inside. The glimmer of hope returns to Rhys’s brilliantly violet eyes, but he remains composed as he waits for you to continue.

“So, I’d like to return. But under three conditions.”

“Okay,” Rhys drags the word out, “But I have to warn you that neutering Cassian is off the table.”

You can’t contain the giggle that escapes your lips. Rhys’s broad chest rumbles with laughter, and for a split second, it feels like no time has passed at all.

“As much as I would delight in it, cutting off the Lord of Bloodshed’s balls wasn’t what I had in mind,” you reply once your fit of laughter subsides.

A small smile remains on Rhys’s lips, “Then what is?”

The humor of the moment passes, and you purse your lips. You close your eyes briefly. In and out. Your chest expands, and as you exhale, your eyes shoot open. It’s now or never.

“First, I want an apartment in Velaris. No more being cooped up here—I want freedom to roam about the Court as I please,” you declare.

Rhys takes less than a minute to think it over before replying, “Done. What else?”

Your brows arch slightly with surprise. Your first request is definitely the tamest of the three—but you didn’t anticipate quite how…agreeable he would be. One down, two to go. Now, for the big one.

“No more secrets,” your tone is steady, self-assured, “No more hiding my identity.”

His jaw shifts, and his bright eyes darken. It’s deadly quiet. You find yourself holding your breath as you wait for his brewing reaction.

“What about your father?” he challenges, his voice gruff with apprehension.

“I don’t care,” your reply is immediate, “Kier won’t so much as lay a finger on me so long as I’m a part of your circle. I don’t give a flying fuck if anyone knows who I am, for that matter.” He opens his mouth to respond, but you beat him to it. “I’m aware that I would no longer be able to act as a liaison between citizens of the courts. But I know for a fact that my time and energy is just as well-served elsewhere,” you don’t so much as stutter as you speak, “I want to be renamed Scholar of the Night Court.”

The High Lord leans forward in his seat, crossing his arms over his desk. The position exudes power, but you don’t so much as flinch at his commanding demeanor. “And what would you do as Scholar?”

You lean forward, mimicking his stance, “Draft your communications. Document your correspondences. Conduct research as you see fit,” the list of tasks rolls off your tongue effortlessly, “Although Amren deserves credit for cracking that book during the war, you wouldn’t have been able to do it without me. There’s not a soul in this Court as proficient as me in ancient tongues, history—overall intelligence too, for that matter.”

The hesitation is clear in the cinch between his brows. Losing you as a liaison is a loss for his ranks. But gaining you as a scholar could be even more valuable. More than that, you know that Rhys will do virtually anything to have you back here—to have you home. Just as you predicted, he releases a long sigh and unfurls his arms before leaning back in his chair.

“Okay,” he relents.

Your lips twitch, threatening to spread into a wide grin, but you suppress it. You still have one more demand, and you have a feeling that this one will truly test his resolve.

“My last stipulation,” you brace yourself for his rebuttal, “Is that I want full involvement in Court politics. Visits to the Court of Nightmares, meetings with other High Lords—whatever the rest of your Inner Circle accompanies you to, I want to be in attendance.”

“No.”

You frown and cross your arms over your chest, “No?”

“No,” Rhys repeats with conviction.

Irritation blossoms, but your face remains impassive, “May I ask why?”

“You have no idea the…intricacies of the politics I must deal with. It’s not safe,” he trails off, his eyes glazing over with a sense of detachment.

You’re not sure if it’s your comparatively young age, or the fact that you were dropped on his doorstep as a refugee soon-to-be-orphan so many years ago; whatever the reason, Rhys has always been protective of you—overly so. You know it’s the goodness of his heart that’s speaking, but you still have to take a deep breath to calm yourself.

“I’m more than capable of learning them. Besides, don’t you think it’s a little too late to prevent me from getting involved with High Lords and their heirs?” you quip.

A pang of guilt tugs at your heartstrings at the remorse on his face. You know it’s a low blow. But even in the presence of your gnawing guilt, the truth behind your words is louder.

“I promised your mother I would keep you safe,” he rasps, “And I nearly failed her once. I won’t make that mistake again.”

The mention of her makes your heart skip a beat. Your palms grow slick with sweat, and you instinctively rub them against the leather of your pants. His confession sheds light on his recent obsessive behavior—how he prioritized tracking your movements over other pressing matters. Any lingering resentment you held melts away as you shift your approach, grappling with the weight of his words.

“I understand,” sincerity laces itself in your tone, “But is ensuring my safety really worth it if it comes at the expense of my happiness?”

Rhys opens his mouth, but words fail him. His brows furrow as he mulls over your question. Finally, he’s able to muster a reply, “I want you to be happy, Y/N. But I saw—we all saw how miserable you were when you came back from Autumn, and I struggle to see how continuing to involve you in court politics could bring anything but.”

A chill crawls up your bare arms as a vivid image of your burned wrists flashes through your mind. You glance down at your hands in your lap, flexing your fingers to remind yourself that the wounds are long gone—even though the heartache remains.

“I don’t regret a single moment I spent there,” you reply, lifting your gaze to meet his. “Yes, it brought me pain, and I still bear those wounds. But it also brought me joy.” A sad smile graces your features. “It gave me the greatest adventure of my life. It gave me him—heartbreak, and all its beautiful ruin.”

A rivulet descends your cheek into the crevice of your smile. A sense of newfound understanding weaves its way between Rhys and yourself. An understanding that the villain in his story may very well be the hero in yours.

“When did you become so wise?” he hums.

A wistful note lingers in your voice as you meet the High Lord’s gaze. “When I realized that wisdom doesn’t come from avoiding the fire, but from walking straight through it and letting it burn away what no longer serves you.”

Rhys’s eyes soften, “And what did it burn away?”

Your voice is quiet, almost a whisper. “Fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of pain, fear of loss. What remains is the understanding that pain and joy, loss and love—they are one and the same. And I would rather live a life touched by both than one shielded from them.”

Rhys leans back in his chair, his expression unreadable, as if weighing every word you’ve spoken. The silence stretches between you, thick with unspoken emotions. Finally, he speaks, his tone resigned but tinged with a deep respect. “If this is the path you choose, then I won’t stand in your way. But promise me that you’ll be careful. That you’ll come to me if you ever need anything—no matter what it is.”

You nod, the weight of his words settling on your shoulders, “I promise.”

He studies you for a long moment, as if committing this version of you—the one who walked through fire and emerged stronger—to memory. The warmth in his eyes is unmistakable as he stands, rounding the desk to pull you into another tight embrace.

“Welcome home, Scholar of the Night Court.”

As you rest your head against his chest, you close your eyes, allowing yourself a moment to simply breathe. This is home. And no matter what lies ahead, you know that you have the strength—and the wisdom—to face it.

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