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mqrrstarr · 12 days ago

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Gladiator Headcanons! (1/?)

How the Characters would act if you: Had A Cold!

Character x GN! Reader

Warnings: s3x implied

Characters Featured: Maximus, Lucilla, Commodus, Acacius, Caracalla, Geta, Lucius, Macrinus (edited: I never actually wrote anything for him but I did now)

A/N: First Tumblr post in a while, and I'm actually writing things too! This is the first time I've written elaborate headcanons, so please forgive if they seem a little off. I apologize for any historical/character innacuracies, and I hope to get better!! xoxo -mqrrstarr

Summary: headcanons!!

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Maximus would immediately notice something is off. You kept complaining about a headache that didn’t seem to stop, and your temperature was high.

“Darling, I don’t think you should fight today…”

You could only cough in response, and the guards wouldn’t let you rest. As the day’s challenge was fighting in pairs, he rapidly volunteered to fight with you. Maximus protected you from the other gladiators, and killed them as fast as you could sneeze. By the end of the day, Maximus gave you his blanket and other amenities, ushering you to a more comfier cell. (He had placed a bet with another gladiator.)

“There darling, rest up nice and easy.”

I can also see Maximus getting the other gladiators to create a soup/stew sort of mixture. Not good. But he’s very fatherly, if you can get that?

- - - - - - - -

Lucilla knows everything. After taking care of Lucius as a child, she can rapidly tell when you’re not feeling well.

“Sweetie? Do you feel alright?”

She’d do the mom thing, put her hand on your forehead and try to figure out what was wrong with you. Your head was practically boiling, so she’d get her servants to make tea, lay you in her triclinium and keep you company.

“The servants will prove useful sweetie. You’re a strong warrior, so keep hanging on.”

She’d hum a lullaby, read poetry (the same she’d read to Lucius) and tell stories until you fell asleep.

- - - - - - - -

Commodus was rarely comforted growing up, so he knew how to handle sickness easily. Growing up semi-independent, he knew homemade tricks and tips to feel better.

“Y/N, are you not feeling well? Just get some herbs and drink an elixir. You’ll be fine.”

He realizes that he sounds a bit harsh, and reminds himself that he never wants to treat you how he was treated; with solitude and no gratitude. Commodus gets you all the snacks and food you want, and even hugs you for as long as you want.

When you question him after it’s been a whole afternoon of him on your chest, he simply says,

“Y/N, do not question the Emperor. I wish to lay with you, and I do not fear sickness. The Gods can protect one of their own.”

He keeps hugging you and falls asleep, and the next day you’re both coughing and sneezing.

- - - - - - - -

Acacius has been through so many battles and massacres, yet he’s never truly encountered a cold. The soldiers that cough, are usually dead. Coughing up their own blood, that is. He really doesn’t know how to help you properly, but he’ll try his best.

“Angel, can you tell me what’s wrong? I’m not really sure what to do. Should I get a doctor? Are you feeling a certain way?”

and as he says this, Acacius would use his hands to caress yours, and treat you even more like a princess/prince. He’d lay you in his own bed, and give you massages until you’d feel better. He’d also do a little more if you’d want. Iykyk. You’d fall asleep quickly, and you’d wake up to Acacius either next to you, or on a chair by the bedside and he’d be all sprawled out. His soldier senses would wake him up though.

“Angel? Angel? You’re all right now, that’s wonderful. My lovely Venus, you’re all healed.”

And his words, he would seal with a forehead kiss. GOD HE’S SUCH A SWEETHEART I NEED PEDRO PASCAL

- - - - - - - -

Caracalla had his own sickness, the one of syphilis. His wild mentality usually was what kept him going, and the love of ruling over Rome. Yet the Emperor cared for his significant other, and refused to let anyone else; even his closest servants touch you.

“My Wife/Husband, the most holiest of them all, I shall take care of you. Please tell me what your most vivid desires are? Allow me to assist you.”

He’s such a sweetheart, and he’d definitely tell you so many stories of him and Geta in their childhood, Roman mythology, and anything to keep you entertained. As he also has mommy and daddy issues, he also do a Commodus-esque move and lay on your chest and probably fall asleep first haha. When the both of you awake, he'd hear your stomach rumble.

“You’re hungry? Well then I shall feed you. Anything for you my love.”

He’d keep you filled with food and him to help your weak state. (CARACALLA COME HOME THE KIDS AND I MISS YOU)

- - - - - - - -

Geta was always stressed. Getting much more to do as Emperor, as Caracalla had his own “duties” to fulfill. When you started coughing and sneezing as you strolled in the palace garden, he’d send the servants away to prepare a room where you could quarantine. As much as he loved you, he’d refuse to get sick. (Rome needs a healthy representation.) So you’d be alone the first few days with the occasional knock on the door. When you seemed less sick than before, he’d spend all the time with you.

“My love? I’m here for you. The Gods have finally allotted time for our get together. It will be only the finest in Rome for the night; us.”

He’d definitely turn the situation into a fun (fucking) night and then the days after that would be a cycle of laying together, fine dining meals, and caressing. (your bodies, of course.) When he has to return to his Emperor duties, he’ll leave with a long romantic and passionate kiss, one that made your entire body warm.

“Won’t be long. I’ll be back in the night.”

(if you couldn't tell i love the idea of geta as needy all the time)

- - - - - - - -

Lucius knew what it was like to feel sick and tired constantly, so he took care of you. Like a shepherd tending to his favorite sheep. Both of you grand warriors and gladiators, so there was no time to feel bad. He reassured you he could fight without you, and vowed to come back every time.

“Dearest, I promise to return safely. I couldn’t leave my soul with you, it has to be me truly here always. I vow on our love to fight for freedom and the peace of Rome. I will also fight for you.”

You trusted Lucius, (WHO WOULDN’T WITH THOSE BLUE EYES) and he is a man of his word. Day after day, you slowly healed and was able to rejoin Lucius and the others again.

“See? I knew you’d heal. The Gods give power to those who are great. And you are great.”

You fought as usual, but he’d still protect you a little more to ensure you were actually okay.

- - - - - - - -

Macrinus would see you and get together some gladiators in your presence, hoping they would entertain you and help you ignore the pain.

“Sickness is nothing but temporary Y/N. You can and have the power to move on.”

You’d take his advice and eventually keep doing your work as his assistant, and he’d make sure you were well taken care of.

“Y/N? A true warrior does not dawdle. Good job keeping up with your tasks.”

Surprisingly, you were able to keep up with work and healed faster than expected. (THERE I WROTE FOR MACRINUS)

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prythianpages · 10 months ago

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You're Good To Me | Eris x Reader

summary: Eris realizes two things. One, he's in love with you, his brother's betrothed. Two, he's put you in danger.

warnings: angst, mentions of killing, but there is some fluff in the middle!

a/n: This one is inspired by Hozier's Would That I. Eris is so Hozier coded and when I heard this song, I couldn't help myself but write this. You can find the masterlist for this series here or just read this as a stand alone imagine. I rewrote the last scenes to this so many times within the past couple of hours but I think I'm finally content with this.

The late morning sun casts long shadows through the towering trees of the Autumn Court's sprawling estate, dappling over Eris with golden hues. Resting against a centuries-old oak, he reads a book–your book–while his hounds run about freely. Occasionally, they bring him a random stick that he happily throws.

She was soft as an angel but oh, she could love with the fury of a demon–

Clover, his youngest hound, barks, pulling his attention from the book. It’s one that has an adorable chirp to it. His fingers still on the page he was about to turn. Recently, there’s been only one other person–besides him, of course– who can elicit such a sound.

With a roar of a fire, Eris’s heart rises to its feet, mirroring Clover’s excitement. He can feel you too. You’re close. The book he was reading lays forgotten in his lap as he listens for the telltale sound of hoofbeats drawing near.

You had gone for a morning ride with his mother as you’ve done nearly every morning for the past week. How convenient for Eris to be reading near the stables around the time you’d return.

He was strategically positioned not to be in your direct line of sight but for you to come into his.

You’re laughing at something his mother said and the small smile that tugs at his lips is almost inevitable. He lifts his gaze, admiring the carefree expression on your face and the way the sunlight catches your hair. Clover lets out a small wine, tail wagging in anticipation as she watches you. She looks back at Eris, as if asking if she could run to you, and though Eris isn’t one to deny his hounds, he shakes his head at her. He wants to bask in your presence from afar awhile longer.

He can tell your lips are moving but from where he sits, he can’t discern your words. The soft pat you give your horse, Maximus, and the responding loud neigh is enough to clue him in. Maximus stands proud, his long white mane blowing in the gentle morning breeze as you dismount him with the help of one of the stablemen. You traded your pretty dresses for something more fitting for your morning ride. His gaze lingers on the way your pants cling to your curves longer than it should.

A low growl from Clover has him abruptly tearing his gaze away from your body. He watches as you run toward an older male. Your smile is so bright it competes with the sun as you throw your arms around your father. There’s something unsettling about the way your father looks at you. Something that makes your father undeserving of your smile.

While you look up at him in admiration, he looks at you as if you are his most prized possession. An object. He can tell his mother senses it too by the forced smile on her face as she politely greets him.

In the blink of an eye, Clover is darting toward you with an urgency that startles Eris. The rest of his hounds pause, their muscles tensing as they watch the scene unfold. Your eyes widen in pleasant surprise. Clover bounds towards you, her tongue eagerly reaching out to shower you with affection.

“Do they just let vile creatures roam around freely here?” He hears your father loudly ask with a scowl on his face.

“Her name is Clover,” you are quick to correct, turning toward your father again.

Clover turns with you and suddenly, she’s growling and snapping at him. With a yelp, your father falls to the ground on his butt while Clover lowers her head with another growl in warning. Eris rises to his feet and brings his finger to his lips, letting out a sharp whistle.

Just as quickly as Clover had escaped his side, she obediently makes her way back to him. Your gaze follows after her, and it's then that you spot Eris. There's a softness in your gaze as it lands on him. Despite the tension between Clover and your father, you seem unfazed. Your focus solely on Eris as the stablemen rush to help your father, who is groaning out profanities while his mother apologizes on Eris’s behalf.

Eris holds your gaze, patting Clover’s head in a reassuring manner. He’s not sorry about the whole ordeal. His hounds are trained to appear menacing and fearsome but they never attack without reason. Now, he’s inclined to investigate further, realizing he does not know enough about your father.

“Come along,” your father says, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and forcing your attention back to him. He looks down at your outfit and a frown appears on his face. “You’re a Lady now, y/n. You need to dress like it.”

“I’m sorry,” he hears you apologize, unsettling him further. He watches as your body is enveloped by a golden glow and when he blinks, your riding outfit is replaced by a soft pink gown.

As your father rushes you back toward the forest house, you can’t help but glance back. There’s the slightest curve to Eris’s lips at that. He waves your book in a teasing manner, reveling in the immediate response he receives. You quickly turn back around and even from his distance, he can appreciate the blush that warms your cheeks. He feels a similar warmth swell in his chest, leaving him already anticipating seeing you again at dinner.

Eris hesitantly turns the final page of the book, as if reluctant to part ways. He had needed something to preoccupy himself with until dinner and with his father thankfully busy entertaining yours, he decided to immerse himself further into the book you held dear. He knew it was one you treasured by the worn-out cover and the pages threatening to detach from the spine. He’s almost distraught at the creases that line the top edges of random pages but is willing to forgive you for it.

His gaze settles on the last words, a bittersweet ache tugging at his heartstrings.

"You are the love that came without warning. You had my heart before I could say no,” he breathes, holding her close. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“It’s okay,” she croaks out as she looks up at him, blood seeping from her mouth. “I love you too.”

And as she drew her last breath, he felt his world end with it.

He stares at the words, reading them over and over again. Finally, he closes the book, but the words linger, echoing within him like a haunting melody. They stir emotions in him he’s never felt towards the ending of a book before. He feels lost. Angry. Disbelief. What kind of ending was this? If this book wasn’t yours, he would’ve flung it across his room.

He lets out a deep exhale, eyes fluttering shut momentarily. When he opens them, he looks at the clock hanging across the wall from him. Two hours until dinner still looms ahead. He wants to find you, to tell you his thoughts like you told him to but it’s too risky at this moment.

Rising from his seat, he gingerly sets your cherished book down on the small table beside him. He grabs his coat, deciding fresh air will do him well. Perhaps, even a walk through the village. There is a shop he’d like to visit. Anything to quiet his thoughts and the clamor of his racing heart. The characters from the book struck a chord too familiar with him.

“Hold my hand.”

“No.”

Eris pauses at the voices, eyes immediately finding the owners. There's a notable gap between you and Sawyer, tension crackling in the air as you exchange heated glances. For a moment, Eris wonders if there’s fire coursing through your veins too.

“Listen,” you start. “I don’t want to hold your hand but I want my father to believe I’m happy.”

Sawyer lets out a chuckle. “Your father doesn’t care.”

The look of hurt that flashes in your eyes is enough to have Eris’s blood boiling. “Can’t you at least do this one thing for me?” You plead, clasping your hands in front of him.

“Nope,” Sawyer repeats, accentuating the “p” sound, evidently relishing in the opportunity to further irk you.

“Gods, you’re such an–an…”

Sawyer raises a challenging eyebrow, his gaze locking onto you as your voice wavers, the resolve slipping away. "Say it," he whispers sharply, and Eris's muscles tense instinctively, not liking his brother's tone. Maybe, he should intervene…and teach Sawyer another lesson.

“You’re an asshole.”

Eris almost chokes on his own spit. He fights back the urge to laugh. Not at you, but at the sheer surprise written all over Sawyer's face. Sawyer clearly hadn't expected such boldness from you, and if Eris were to be honest, he is surprised too. Pleasantly surprised.

“Only for you,” Sawyer hisses back, surprise morphing into offense.

“I won’t even breathe in your direction for the next week.”

“And?”

You look at him incredulously. “And?”

Sawyer doesn’t respond. He folds his arms tightly across his chest, letting you know he expects more from you. Your response is a frustrated huff, a sound that would have typically elicited an amused smile from Eris. But not at this moment.

“Fine. I’ll cover for you for all the days leading up to our wedding. Do whom and what as you please. But–” you pause, holding a finger out to him. “–you have to say something nice to me in front of my father too.”

Sawyer’s lips curve into a pleased smirk. “That’s more like it, poo bear,” he purrs, bringing his hand up to pinch at your cheek a little too rough for Eris’s liking.

His fists clench at his sides, watching with envy as Sawyer slowly offers you his arm. Though it’s what you asked for, you eye it with caution. As soon as your hand is lifting to take Sawyer’s arm, Eris finally decides to make his presence known. He walks forward and toward the still notable gap between you and his younger brother. His shoulder purposely bumps into Sawyer’s, a mask of indifference on his face as he does so.

On the other side, his fingers graze against yours. A gesture so subtle it appears to be accidental. There’s no nuance in your expression but your fingers respond, gently lingering over his own. A tug on that golden thread in his chest has his steps wanting to falter. He does not give in, pushing forward instead.

Eris walks into the dining room and settles into his seat beside his mother, nodding a greeting to both his father and yours. They’re already immersed in what sounds like a pointless conversation over Prythian’s economy. Knowing that you and Sawyer will be following shortly, hand in hand, he yanks the bottle of wine from Oliver’s grasp. The heated glare he receives is instant but he couldn’t care any less as he fills his glass to the brim, wishing it was something stronger.

“There’s my blooming flower,” he hears your father happily greet as you grace them with your presence.

“The prettiest flower,” Sawyer remarks in a tone as smooth and soft as velvet. His younger brothers snicker, clearly amused with the drastic change in Sawyer’s attitude toward you.

Eris, however, does not find it amusing.

The grip on his glass tightens so harshly that his mother spares him a glance. She gives him a discreet kick under the table, silently urging him to relax. While his grip on his wine glass loosens, the tension in his jaw doesn’t. He remains quiet during dinner, chiming in only enough to not raise suspicion. He doesn’t dare to sneak a glance at you. Nor at Sawyer. Not even to glare daggers at him for every sweet word he speaks your way.

He knows it’s all an act but the thought does nothing to soothe him. Not when he heard you begging Sawyer to act like he likes you, to hold your hand, to say sweet nothings to you. To do all the things Eris is desperately yearning to do.

The Cauldron was cruel.

“I’m glad to see you’re doing well here,” your father says as you walk arm in arm. “A flower like you needs the right soil to flourish.”

After dinner, the two of you had taken a stroll through the gardens, catching up with one another. He told you all about his recent business adventures, gloating over how the deals coming his way were endless as the word of your family name mixed with the Vanserras spread throughout Prythian. It was when the autumn winds began to pick up and grew too cold for your liking that you made your way back in the forest house and toward your room.

“Do you really have to leave so soon?” You ask, a frown settling over your brows. Please stay, you want to add.

“I’m afraid so. I have a meeting with a potential business partner in Hewn City so I’ll have to leave early tomorrow to prepare,” your father replies in an apologetic tone. “I’ll try to make it in time for your next dress fitting.”

“Okay,” you respond, forcing another smile to your face. You hope your father can’t see right through it. “I’ll wake up early tomorrow to bid you farewell.”

“Lovely,” Your father says, the two of you coming to a stop near your door, where an Autumn guard is stationed right in front. With a nod of his head, the guard steps aside, allowing you access to your room. “Sleep well, okay?”

You lean your back against the door in contemplation. There’s so much you want to say. You want to tell him the truth. To ask him to call off the wedding. To have him take you with him, even if its to Hewn City.

Perhaps, if it were your mother standing before you, you would’ve confessed it all. She was always willing to listen. Your father…not so much. Given the way he was already bragging about the benefits from your arranged marriage, you worried it’d only be a waste of your breath. You also feared burdening him further, knowing he already had a lot on his plate.

You worry your father senses your inner turmoil when he reaches out a hand, lifting your chin. He smiles at you, his eyes seemingly capturing every detail of your presence. Almost like he’s etching it into his memory forever. “You’re everything I could’ve asked for and more in a daughter. Your mother would be proud too.”

There’s a pang in your chest and your smile falters. Something tells you, you wouldn’t be marrying Sawyer if she were alive. Unlike your father, she would see right through you and find a way out for you. But you can’t blame your father, either. Your mother’s last wish was to see you married and happy. Your father only wishes to honor it.

So instead of voicing your worries, you nod. “Goodnight, father.”

When you enter your room, you swear your heart skips a beat. Eris stands tall by your window, his red hair glowing like strands of molten copper under the pale moonlight. His gaze is fixed on the rustle of the leaves from the cool breeze, the shadows dancing across his delicate features. He looks ethereal just standing there.

“Your view is better than mine.”

You’re quick to shut the door behind you. “Lord Eris.”

Eris lets out a snort at your formality. He turns to face you with a small smile. “Just Eris,” he reminds softly as you approach him.

“Sorry, it’s a habit now,” you reply in a sheepish manner. You walk further into your room, joining him at his side. “What are you doing here? You didn’t leave a note this time.”

“I finally finished it.” Eris says as he reveals what he’s holding in his hands. Your book.

“You did?” Your eyes widen as you take it back from him.

The spine is gently bowed from decades of being held dear but you notice that the pages that were teetering away from the spine have been carefully attached back. What catches your eyes most, however, is the golden thread dangling from the midst of the pages. Your fingers toy with the autumn leaf charms that hang from it. Opening the book, you realize the string is attached to a bookmark. It’s placed exactly where you had last creased the page you had been on.

“I can’t believe you dog ear your pages, angel.”

Eris’s nose crinkles in disgust yet there’s an amused gleam in his eyes that has a laugh bubbling in your chest. “You say it like it’s a crime.”

“Because it is,” he insists with an incredulous furrow of his brow.

“Did you like it?”

“Like?” He laughs and you feel a flutter of uncertainty course through you. “I loved it,” he admits, soothing the flutter but then adds: “But I hated the ending.”

“Oh.”

“Oh,” he echoes, his tone mirroring the playful glint dancing in his eyes.

The two of you stare at each other for a moment and you remind yourself to breathe properly. “Do you want to talk about it?” You offer tentatively, your heart racing with anticipation.

Eris grins. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Sitting on the window seat, he adjusts his body so that his back leans against the window. He carefully angles his legs, giving you space to sit too. You settle across from, hugging your knees to your chest.

“Start from the beginning.”

And so Eris does, pouring out his every thought.

He tells you how he enjoyed the author’s world building of the human world, though he knows in reality, it’s actually very boring. You attempt to defend the mortals but Eris dismisses it, claiming he knows their world is dull based on a human he knows. He then tells you how the slow burn romance between the two protagonists nearly drove him insane. That he’d never been more happy to read about two characters holding hands.

“And don’t even get me started on the intimate scenes between those two. It went on in extravagant details for pages and pages,” he says with an amused exhalation. “How something so vulgar can be written so beautifully is beyond me!”

You can’t help but laugh at that, despite the heat rising to your cheeks. Eris continues with his passionate rant and you drink every single word. At some points, he pauses, asking for your interpretations of certain scenes, bringing forth small arguments and laughter.

"I just can't get over that ending," Eris remarks with a sigh, his brow furrowing in frustration. "It's just so... sad. Disappointing, almost. After all that trouble the hero went to save her only for her to still die at the end...”

"But isn't there a certain beauty in tragedy?" you counter softly. "The way it makes you feel, the emotions it evokes. The angst. Because as you read, you slowly begin to realize that it was not her who needed saving but him.”

Eris tilts his head, contemplating your words for a moment. Of course, you would see the beauty in the ending. His lips curve into a pout. He needs to protect you at all costs. He doesn’t want you to end up like him, spirit crushed by the cruel confinements of this court and forced to wear a mask at all times.

"I suppose I just prefer stories with happy endings. Life's already filled with enough sadness, isn't it?"

“It is,” you murmur, gaze softening with empathy. Then, your eyes are lighting up as a thought crosses your mind and you’re smiling at him. ��Who would’ve thought Eris Vanserra, the heir to the Autumn Court, is a hopeless romantic with a soft spot for happy endings.”

The smile that breaks out brightens his entire expression and he lets out a chuckle, sending a warm flutter through your chest. He leans in closer, his amber eyes alight with an intensity that mirrors the flickering flames of the hearth in your room.

“And who would’ve thought a saint like you has the mind of a sinner.”

“Hey!” You gasp and give a playful kick to his thigh.

Eris laughs, body relaxing as he slumps against the window for support. He’s lost count of the amount of times you two have laughed tonight but he knows it’s more than he ever has before. When you shift to give another kick, his hand grasps at your ankles. He raises a brow at you in challenge, almost daring you to try again.

“You said and I quote ‘something so vulgar can be written so beautifully,’ meaning that you enjoyed them too.”

“I did,” Eris agrees, lips curling into a smirk as he lifts his gaze. His fingers mindlessly dance across your exposed leg, sending a delightful shiver through you. “But I am no saint.”

It’s when he feels your leg twitch that he realizes what he’d been doing. He stands abruptly and lowers his head. He fears he’s getting too comfortable around you. “I sh–”

Standing from the window seat, your hand grasps for his, stopping him. “Since you read one of my favorites, it’s only fair that I read one of yours.”

Eris's eyes widen in surprise and he turns back to look at you. No one has ever asked him about his favorite book. He read yours because he wanted to, curious to learn more about you through it. He didn’t expect you to return the gesture.

"Deal.”

The word escapes him with such ease it scares him but it’s short lived as he’s overcome with excitement. His passion for reading had always been a solitary pursuit. It was something he never really shared with others, but he wants to with you.

“I’ll bring it to you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” you respond happily.

“But,” he begins, not allowing you to let go of his hand, his thumb brushes against the back of it. “You’re not allowed to dog ear my pages.”

“I’ll also need a book in return. It’s only fair,” he adds, mimicking your tone from earlier. His mind then drifts to thoughts of the both of you, curled up against one another with a book in your laps. Or maybe, you’d read to him while he holds you close, his head resting atop your shoulder and–

“Of course,” you reply, pulling him from his fantasies and toward the other side of your room, where many books were neatly lined atop a shelf. “I couldn’t bring all my books but I brought all my absolute favorites!"

Eris watches as you hum in contemplation. His attention is drawn to the way you tap a finger against your lips. He remembers the way they felt against his cheek. Lovely and sweet. Like your heart. He’s dying to know what they’d feel like against his lips…

He knows you’ve finally decided on a book when your other hand frees itself from his hold to reach out for it. You carefully slide it off the shelf and then turn around, presenting it to him. “You’ll love this one,” you tell him and you’re so confident it has his lips twitching upwards for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. “It has a happy ending."

"I think I...," his voice wavers with a delicate tremor. He looks away, his cheeks tinged with a delicate blush over the words he couldn't bring himself to articulate. "You're good to me," he murmurs instead, taking the book from you.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Your words coax his gaze back to yours and the sincerity he finds in your eyes is one that’s never been directed at him before. It stirs a desire in him that he never even knew he was searching for.

The fire in his veins burns brighter. The bond in his chest sings louder. He allows it to pull him closer to you. You're also leaning in until the book in his hand is the only barrier between your bodies.

There's nothing else to interrupt this moment between you both. No bells chiming like that day in the fountains. No cloak to trip over or lanterns like that night he snuck you out. It's just you two, in the stillness of the night, where the only sounds are your breaths and the crackle of the hearth nearby.

His movements are slow, giving you the chance to pull away at any moment. You don't. He watches your every shift in expression as his free hand tilts your chin up towards him. Your eyes flutter shut in anticipation.

And then he's kissing you.

Softly and delicately like a butterfly's wings. Your lips are warm and perfect against his, your taste sweet and intoxicating. Even better than he could ever imagine.

Your hands travel up his neck and thread themselves through his hair, pressing his lips harsher against yours. Heat courses through him as you kiss him back. You're like a wildfire, burning away all memories of past lovers and leaving only the embers of your essence to light his way.

When he pulls away, a shared breathlessness lingers between you. As he looks into your eyes, it's like the world has somehow shifted. All at once, everything is different. He longs for the night he'll be able to hold you tight and let the blinding light you bring consume him fully.

For now, he leans his forehead against yours, breathing you in and taking in the soft smile on your face that mirrors his own.

But the very next morning, he's harshly reminded that though he's had a taste, your radiance remains beyond his grasp. He fears it will forever, like a forbidden flame that flickers just out of reach.

"Who does he think he is, making demands of me?" Beron seethes, his voice laced with frustration, as he paces back and forth in his study. “I’ve graciously taken in his daughter. I’ve even granted him half of his money upfront. And yet where is my promise?”

Eris, standing nearby, observes with cautious eyes, gauging the storm brewing within his father. He knew it was going to be a bad day the moment he woke up from a nightmare. A nightmare whose cruel grip he still cannot shake off…because for the first time, you were in it.

He prays his father can’t hear the rapid beating of his heart as he says, “Cancel the deal. Call off the wedding with Sawyer...”

And wed her to me, he wishes to add but the words stick in his throat. The painful truth lingers deep in his chest, nestled next to the strings of fate that bind him to you. It’s best if you leave this court and go somewhere far.

Far away where happiness might embrace you. Far away from the cruel clutches of his father’s power and even your own. Far away where you may free him of this torment…but the more time he spends with you, the more precarious the thread his honor hangs on becomes.

He fears that nowhere would be far enough now.

“Call off the wedding?” Beron laughs in an incredulous manner. The gold and crimson tapestries adorning the walls seem to shiver in response to his father’s simmering frustration. When Beron abruptly turns to face Eris, the younger male can’t help but flinch. “When you were the one who suggested this arrangement to begin with.”

Eris’s throat tightens. He had been the one to suggest this arranged marriage.

Your father, a respected merchant, extended an offer to Beron – an offer that, even now, Eris grapples to comprehend fully. It was a proposal that was lured with promises of enhanced power for the High Lord of Autumn in exchange for wealth and elevated status through matrimonial ties.

With no available Vanserra daughters to marry your father to and Sawyer's nightly endeavors tarnishing the family name, it led Eris to suggest an arranged marriage between you and Sawyer. A futile attempt to protect his younger brother from a fate similar to Lucien’s…but at what cost?

The Cauldron must be bubbling with amusement at the irony of it all. For, unknowingly, Eris orchestrated the union between you, his mate, and his brother. This is all his doing. All his fault.

Eris wills himself to maintain an outward appearance of calm. “What’s so important about this exchange anyway?” He asks with a measured voice.

“Jareth has access to something precious,” Beron responds, his words chosen with deliberate care. "Something that may hold the key to immortality."

Eris's eyebrows furrow in contemplation, his mind racing to grasp at what special thing your father could be harboring. "What if he is bluffing?"

Beron's eyes darken, sending a shiver down Eris's spine. His heart sinks to his stomach as he can already anticipate what his father is going to say.

“I’ll kill his precious daughter. Then, I’ll kill him.”

If your father keeps his end of the bargain, you’ll marry Sawyer. Doomed to a life of misery, where danger lurks at every corner. If your father doesn’t keep his end of the bargain, you’ll be the one to face the consequences of his father's wrath.

And you're in this situation because of him. The bond in his chest tightens, the golden strings pulling taut with a piercing resonance. No, no, no. Panic seeps in with an agonizing intensity. The mere thought of any harm coming to you, especially because of his actions, sickens him to his stomach.

He can’t allow that to happen. He won't allow it to happen.

“That won’t be necessary,” Eris says, carrying the weight of centuries of practiced composure. “I’ll ensure Jareth keeps his end of the bargain.”

“As expected,” Beron replies in a pleased tone. “I’m counting on you.”

Eris manages a nod, silently excusing himself. He’s never been more desperate to leave his father’s study. He feels his hands begin to shake and he shoves them into his pockets, not wanting to allow anyone a glimpse of the turmoil raging inside.

It's only when he's in the comfort of his room that he allows his facade to crumble. Leaning heavily against the door, he slowly sinks to the floor. His hounds are immediately rushing to his side, noses brushing softly against his arms.

"I made a terrible mistake," he tells them quietly and a low whine comes from one of them in protest. Then, with a strong determination, he says, "but I'm going to fix it."

"I swear it," he promises, rising to his feet, his hounds following after him as he makes his way further into his room.

You're not going to marry Sawyer and you're not going to be the one to pay the consequences of your father's actions, should he betray them. No. Eris will make sure of that. He's running out of time but he's going to find a way to get you out of this mess. He knows he can.

Eris realizes then he'd do anything to keep you safe, even if it means losing everything. Because if there's one thing he can't lose, it's you.

a/n: and here comes the angst train. I hope you enjoyed Eris and reader talking about her favorite book as much as I enjoyed writing it ♡

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