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thatbloodymuggle · 9 months ago

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MASTERMIND (ii)

TWO - FALLING WATER

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: 9.4k

SERIES MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: language, smut, oral (f receiving)

The memories of the night before come crashing down over you before your eyes even open the next morning. As you stir from your restless sleep, you can still smell the cedar of the blazing bonfire, hear the waltz of the orchestra, and feel Eris’s lips ghosting over your neck. Your eyes flutter open, and you lazily run a hand over your face. You flinch at the cool feeling of metal against your cheek, all grogginess gone as you look down at your hand. The silver of Eris’s ring still sits proudly on your thumb–a reminder that you hadn’t imagined last night’s events.

Autumn Court treating you well, my little liaison?

You jolt abruptly at the sound of Rhys’s voice flooding your mind.

Well enough, you reply as you haul yourself from the creaky bed.

Any updates? He questions.

The dust-covered floor is cold underneath your feet as you pad to the bathroom. I made initial contact last night, you reply. Your cheeks warm as you will away any thoughts about the details of your initial contact.

Did he take the bait?

Like a fish, you hum over the connection.

His deep laugh fills your mind, Good. Tread carefully.

You roll your eyes and send over one last message before putting up your mental barriers. Will do, oh mighty High Lord.

Right on cue, your stomach grumbles. A hunger pain washes over you, and you glance toward the kitchenette with a frown. You hadn’t even realized that the last time you ate a proper meal was in the Night Court before your departure yesterday. You hastily wipe the sleep from your face and prepare yourself for the day ahead. Once you deem yourself presentable enough, you throw a cloak over your shoulders and head out into the forest towards the town. Another wave of hunger washes over you, prompting you to winnow rather than walk.

A sweet aroma of clover and fire smoke tickles at your nose as you land in the middle of the small-town square. A soft smile graces your features as you take in the familiar surroundings–you have always loved the colonial architecture of the Autumn Court. The saltbox houses of varying sizes and colors are perfectly mismatched, with wooden ‘Open�� signs hanging in each window. You make your way down the cobblestone path, an empty basket in hand, and begin your window shopping.

By noon, your basket is nearly overflowing with a variety of goods ranging from freshly baked pastries to perfectly ripened apples. After several hours of flashing smiles and playing the part of Athena Ellesmere flawlessly, your social battery is drained, to say the least. All you want is to curl up in front of the fireplace in your cabin and read one of the many books you’ve packed. But you have one more stop to make.

A bell jingles as you push open the mahogany door of the wheat and grain store. You barely close it behind you before you are bombarded with a familiar, cheerful voice.

“Athena!”

You fight through your exhaustion and force a wide smile onto your face as you turn to Willow. Her red hair is slightly duller than much of the Autumn Court residents–more of a strawberry blonde. But her green eyes are strikingly bright, reminding you of the emerald of Eris’s shirt last night.

You set down your basket and greet her with an embrace, “It’s good to see you, Willow.”

“You’ve settled in well?” she chirps as she pulls away with a grin.

You nod with a soft smile, “For the most part. I was just picking up some things for my stay, but I had to stop in.”

The faerie smiles and opens her mouth to reply but pauses at the sound of the door creaking behind her. You tense as a burly male enters the shop from the backdoor. Finnian is far from the worst Autumn Court male you have encountered–but he certainly isn’t pleasant either.

A bitter taste floods your mouth as you force your head into a greeting bow for the male before you, as per Autumn Court custom. As beautiful as the land is, you could never fathom living in a society in which females are treated with such little respect. Still, you conceal your distaste as you greet him, “Hello, Finnian.”

He merely grunts and nods in greeting. You fight the urge to roll your eyes.

“Your father couldn’t come himself?” he sneers.

You dig your nails into your palms, but your sickly-sweet smile doesn’t falter, “Unfortunately, no. I’ll be doing his bids once again.”

Finnian grunts in disapproval but doesn’t press the subject further. Instead, he nods his head at his wife expectantly. Willow turns to you with an apologetic smile, “I should really get back to work. But I would love it if you’d stop in during my lunch break one of these days.”

Your smile stretches wider, your cheeks burning in protest, as you nod and pick up your basket, “Yes, of course. It was good seeing you both.”

You all but run out of the store and let out a sigh of relief when you finally drop the plastic smile. “Stupid Autumn Court males and their fragile egos,” you grumble to yourself. You were already exhausted–but that unpleasant interaction was the cherry on top of a draining morning.

With your basket nearly overflowing with goodies, you decide against winnowing. So, with a long sigh, you begin your stride back to your cabin. The basket weighs heavily on your arm, but you allow the wind nipping at your nose to distract you from the dull ache. As you leave the small town behind you and enter the forest, you immerse yourself in the kaleidoscope of autumn colors.

And as you study the unique bend and curve of each tree truck, you can’t help but think about your mother. The reds reminded you of her velvet dresses. The yellows were her radiant skin when the sun rays shone through the library windows. The browns reflected her kind eyes, warm like chocolate. She would have loved this.

Your back stiffens as you feel a lingering presence behind you. You don’t dare look back, but your ears perk up. Sure enough, a twig crunches to your left. Who the hell is watching you? A wave of dread rushes over you, but you continue forward. You make sure the rhythm of your steps doesn’t falter, as to not alert your stalker to your awareness of their presence. Your hand slowly trails to the pocket of your cloak, and you subtly brandish a pocket-sized dagger Azriel gifted you last Starfall. In one swift motion, you spin around, drop your basket of goodies, and hold the dagger against the throat of your stalker.

Your heart sinks at the sight of bright, amber eyes staring back at you.

“Now this isn’t a very polite manner of greeting, is it Little Bird?” Eris’s lips curl into a roguish smile despite the metal pressed tightly against his throat.

The initial shock rolls over you and you drop the dagger. A hot flush crawls up your neck and you drop to your knees to gather the apples that had spilled out of your basket to avoid his piercing gaze.

“Well, it isn’t very polite to sneak up on people, is it?” you counter.

Just as your fingers graze the last apple, he swoops down and wraps his hand over yours atop the piece of fruit. You still as he rolls his thumb over the silver ring sitting snugly on yours.

“And it isn’t very polite to steal,” he muses, “But I suppose I should’ve known better. After all, birds are drawn to shiny things.”

You snatch your hand away, and Eris uses the opportunity to grab the apple before swiftly rising to his full height. You watch, dumbfounded, as he takes a large bite, a bit of juice dribbling down his chin. He wipes it away with a knowing smirk, and the blush crawling up your neck reaches your cheeks. Your mind screams at you, get it together. You blink, taking a moment to collect yourself, before standing up on wobbly legs.

“Fox got your tongue?” he taunts.

Your lips part at the way his tongue darts out to catch another bit of juice dribbling out the corner of his mouth. Your eyes scan down his body, drinking in his appearance. Gone is the emerald silk shirt from the night before, and in its place a sage vest atop a cream, long-sleeve shirt with billowing sleeves. Even in this more casual attire, he still exudes a certain elegance.

Finally, you are able to formulate words, “Your trousers are undone.”

His brows furrow as he looks down, and you snatch the half-eaten apple from his unsuspecting hand. You take a large bite and relish in the sweetness of the fruit. Eris grins like a cheshire cat as he realizes your play. A hearty chuckle rumbles in his chest.

“Perhaps I misjudged you,” he drawls, “You thieve like a vixen.”

You finish off the apple with a satisfied hum and toss the core into the woods, away from the dirt path. “I would think that centuries of existence would teach you better than to judge a book by its cover,” you quip, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I do have business to attend to.”

You turn on your heel and continue your stride along the winding path. To no surprise, Eris falls into step beside you.

“And what business may that be?” he inquires.

A small smile twitches at your lips, “You’re nosy today,” you tease, but answer his query, nonetheless, “Some correspondences for my father. He’s sent me here to solidify some trade agreements with the harvest season beginning.”

“A merchant’s daughter,” Eris wonders aloud, “Not exactly what I had you pegged for.”

You arch a brow and tilt your head to face him, “And what is it that you had me pegged for?”

He takes the heavy basket from your arm, ignoring your protests, “A scholar. Or perhaps a spy.”

It takes everything in you not to react to his second guess, even though his tone is teasing. Instead, you reply coolly, “Well I’m also here to do some research. I have some ideas about some more efficient trade routes, but I haven’t been able to find any library with an adequate collection of atlases.”

Eris hums in thought, and you pray he plays into your hand, “I may be able to grant you access to the Forest House library,” you force down your proud grin, “But for a price.”

You don’t bother hiding the exaggerated roll of your eyes, “And what might that be?”

Your heart skips a beat as he steps into your path, halting you abruptly. His head dips and you suck in a breath at his proximity. You find yourself mesmerized by the strong bridge of his nose, the fullness of his lips, as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His delicate touch sends a shiver up your spine.

“A few hours of your time. I’d like to show you a place more befitting of your beauty than that little ransack cabin you’ve been caged in. Somewhere you can spread your wings, Little Bird,” he breathes.

You gulp, eyes wide at his forwardness–not to mention his inadvertent admission that he has been watching you. You all but melt into the touch of his calloused fingers as they trail down the side of your face before falling back at his side. His lips curl with amusement as you fumble for words.

“Okay,” you lamely reply.

He hums, satisfied by your answer. Your breath hitches in your throat as he leans closer and presses his lips against your cheek. His kiss is gentle, but it lingers in a tortuous manner that leaves you wanting more as he pulls away. Warm eyes wink at you as he purrs, “Till next time, Little Bird.”

And with that, he vanishes, winnowing away before you can catch your breath. Your heart races as you lift a hand to your face, ghosting your fingers over the spot on your cheek where his lips had been. He used your own move against you, and you can’t decide if you are awed or terrified–or both. But whatever the feeling, a dark part of you revels in it.

Guilt crashes over you at the realization; just as fierce as the unbridled desire that pools in the pit of your stomach. Your feet move with a mind of their own as your mind spirals. You should not be enjoying this. As much as Rhys may try to hold on to his feeble alliance with him, Eris is the enemy. And your indulgence in his game of seduction is a grave betrayal to not only your court, but to your sister.

You aren’t conscious of your movements as you enter your ramshackle cabin. Methodically, you kick off your boots, set down your basket, and shed your heavy cloak. You slip out of your burnt orange dress and move to the bathroom, your heart pounding in your ears. The silver ring glittering on your thumb is suddenly scorching, and you hastily take it off, throwing it onto the counter. As you stare at your reflection in the mirror, you desperately search your own features for some semblance of stability; some sort of reminder of what you’re here to do. You turn to the side and raise your arm, brushing your hand over the underside of your breast.

A sigh of relief passes through your lips as the glamour you’ve worn since you stepped foot in the Autumn Court fades, and your tattoo stares back at you: the Night Court insignia, identical to that worn by the other members of the inner circle. But unlike the others, the Day Court sun shines bright behind the Illyrian Mountain. You trace the lines, and the tension in your shoulders subsides.

Despite the undeniable effect Eris has over you, you know where your loyalty and your love lies. No matter how wily the fox may be.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Two days. Two excruciatingly long days full of fake bargaining, plastic smiles, and arrogant males have passed–and Eris hasn’t shown his face. Perhaps he got tied up with some court politics, or more likely, he forgot entirely. Whatever the case, you are not pleased, to say the least. Nor is Rhys. The beauty of the Autumn Court is the only thing that has kept you sane. But even in all its charm, you are growing restless. And you’re not sure how much longer you can wait around, itching to play.

Desperate to blow off some steam, you find yourself venturing far into the woods to mindlessly use your powers. You know it’s a risk–if anyone were to catch wind of your Night or Day Court powers, it could very possibly blow your entire cover. But if you don’t do something, you may simply die of boredom. You lose track of time as you conjure light from your fingertips into the trees above, slink into the shadows, and winnow in circles. Light, shadow, winnow, repeat. Over and over again, until the adrenaline passes, and exhaustion sets in.

Sweat beads at your brow as you winnow, once, twice, three times more before you finally land in front of your cabin. Your legs wobble as you stumble towards the front door. Despite your tired limbs, you haven’t felt so awake since you first set foot in the Autumn Court.

You are minutes away from collapsing on your rickety bed and reading yourself to sleep. So, imagine your surprise when you enter and find a head of flaming red hair seated on top of it.

Eris isn’t just seated–he’s lounging on your bed, legs crossed, as if he owns it. His eyes don’t so much as shift in your direction, as he appears to be immersed in one of your books. You squint at the title, and your eyes widen with horror as it clicks. He’s reading one of Nesta’s books. Those stupid, cursed, little smut books she can’t seem to stop shoving down your throat.

“I knew you were filthy, Little Bird, but I didn’t think you were this filthy,” Eris muses.

You’re sure your cheeks are now matching the color of his hair as you rush forward and snatch the book from his hands. His eyes finally meet yours, and if your magic wasn’t completely drained, you would slip into the shadows without a second thought. He wears a vicious grin and playful delight dances in the irises of his eyes.

“It’s not mine,” you mumble, averting your own eyes from his punishing gaze.

He tuts, “I don’t like liars, Birdie. It’s okay to admit you need a little release sometimes. Everyone does. Although, when I need a little release, I usually–”

“What are you doing here?” you hiss, the blush on your cheeks burning even brighter than before.

He holds his hands coyly across his chest and taps his index fingers together in a taunting motion, “You promised me a few hours of your time–or did you forget?”

You narrow your eyes and clutch the book tightly to your chest, as if the damage hasn’t already been done, “A little heads up would have been nice. You can’t just barge in here as you please.”

He swings his legs over the side of the bed and rises, stalking closer to you. You tense as he stops right in front of you and tilts your chin up softly, so your eyes meet his, “I am a busy man. Forgive me, darling.”

He runs his tongue along his teeth with a feline smile as he watches you audibly gulp.

“Where are we going?” you lamely ask.

He clicks his tongue in his mouth before replying, “Now if I tell you that will ruin all the fun.”

You roll your eyes and jerk yourself out of his hold, “Can you at least tell me what attire would be appropriate?”

“What you’re wearing is fine. But I don’t think green is your color,” he banters.

Your glare speaks louder than words.

“Although,” he grasps your hand in his and brandishes a familiar, silver ring from his pocket, “You seem to have forgotten your little trophy.”

You watch as he slides the ring back onto your thumb. You frown and flick your eyes up towards his, “You can have it back.”

Eris shakes his head, “I’d like it if you wore it–at least throughout your stay here,” he pauses, before continuing, “Can you promise me you won’t take it off again?”

Although the playful glint in his eye remains, it falters for a fraction of a moment, revealing an emotion you can’t quite place your finger on–something dark. But you decide against pushing the subject. You simply nod, and he hums in satisfaction.

“Well let’s get moving then. Unless you’d rather stay here and continue reading your filthy little–”

“I’m moving,” you effectively cut Eris off, willing the blush not to return to your cheeks. You fight the urge to roll your eyes when you feel his gaze on your ass as you exit the cabin. “Are we walking?” you send him a glance over your shoulder.

“Too far,” he falls into step beside you, “We’ll winnow.”

Your shoulders tense, and you are suddenly reminded of the aching in your body from running your magic dry earlier. You halt abruptly and turn to face him fully, “I can’t.”

Eris’s arches a brow in incredulity, “I just heard you winnow not even 10 minutes ago.”

A sheepish smile takes over your face and you reply as nonchalantly as possible, “I’m too tired. I was, erm, blowing off some steam earlier—I don’t think I could even winnow to the other side of the cabin right now.”

His eyes narrow slightly as he analyzes your answer, “Blowing off steam?”

You cringe internally and send the Autumn Court heir a nervous smile, “You know, just winnowing around.”

His scrutinizing gaze narrows further, “So you were just winnowing around in circles?”

“Yes.”

“And now you can’t winnow anymore?”

“Correct.”

It’s the truth—just not all of it.

Despite your best efforts, you can’t contain your giggle. You didn’t think about how ridiculous it would sound; winnowing around to burn off energy, much like a dog chasing its own tail. As you chuckle quietly to yourself, the playful grin returns to Eris’s face.

“You’re a strange little thing,” he laughs, and reaches out his hand to you.

You gaze at his waiting hand, and tentatively intertwine your fingers with his before you can talk yourself out of it. A familiar rush of adrenaline surges through you as he winnows you both, the world twisting and folding around you.

You don’t attempt to contain your gasp at the sight before you. In-between a crowd of beautiful orange and red-leafed trees lies a waterfall unlike any you’ve seen before. In fact, this may very well be the first waterfall you’ve ever seen. It is modestly sized, and flows down several layers of terraced, moss-covered rock; but the beauty, the intoxicating smell, is unlike anything you’ve experienced before. The cherry on top of the cake is the small watermill cottage at the creek bend, just where the water falls off. The scene looks like something out of an art museum. Captivated, you edge towards the water until the mist tickles your nose.

“It’s…breath-taking,” you mumble, vaguely aware of Eris lingering beside you.

While you gaze is fixed on the scene before you, his is set on you. He can’t help but study the way your lips part in awe, your familiar eyes widen in wonderment—like you’re experiencing the world for the first time.

“It is,” he mumbles in response, although his gaze remains trained on you.

He follows you quietly—patiently—as you wander closer to the water’s edge. You run your fingertips along each moss-covered rock, trying to engrain every small detail into your memory. You crouch down to dip your hand into the blue-green water, but jolt back at the frigid temperature.

“Where are we?” you cock your head to the side, finally peeling your eyes away from the picturesque scene.

Eris leans against a tree, his arms crossed over his chest. The sleeves of his white undershirt billow softly in the breeze. “Up North. Closer to the Winter Court border,” his deep voice rumbles over the sound of the waterfall, “I come here when I need to think.”

“I take it the house is yours?” you gesture towards the small cottage.

“More or less. It was a part of my mother’s estate once; a very long time ago,” he pushes off the tree and stalks closer to you, “It’s not a secret, but it’s…private. When I don’t want to be found, or simply need space, it’s unlikely anyone will look here.”

“Do you hide from your family often?” you hum nonchalantly.

Eris bristles slightly at your question, but replies coolly, “Sometimes. They have a tendency to be…suffocating.”

You know that feeling all too well—but you simply nod, avoiding the slippery slope of divulging your own past. You sit down on a nearby tree stump, and gaze out at the waterfall as you ask, “Are you close with your brothers?”

He strides towards you and perches himself atop a large boulder, “In some ways, yes. But being heir to the throne doesn’t afford me the luxury of friends.”

You open your mouth to fire yet another question, but he cuts you off with an impish smile, “You’re curious today, Little Bird. It doesn’t seem fair that you know so much about me, and I know so little about you.”

“You know my name. And you choose not to use it,” you counter with an arched brow.

“Would you like me to?” he asks.

A simple question should afford a simple answer. But for some reason, his query makes the hair on your arms stand on end. You should say yes. You shouldn’t let silly little pet names distract you from the work you’re here to do. Say yes.

“No.”

He hums in satisfaction, and you avoid his gaze by training your eyes back onto the waterfall. From your peripheral, you can see Eris rise from his spot on the boulder. He moves out of your line of vision, and you can hear the rustling of fabric behind you. Your curiosity screams at you to look back; but your stubbornness keeps your head trained forward.

Suddenly, the rustling stops. Just as you’re about to give into your curiosity and turn around, a nearly-naked Eris bounds past you, towards the water, and dives gracefully in. Your jaw drops as you let out an involuntary squeal, trying (and failing) to shield yourself from the splash.

“Are you insane?” you shriek as soon as his head pops back up out of the water.

He shakes his hair like a dog and wipes a hand over his face with a childish grin. You can’t help but laugh at the sight, causing his toothy grin to widen even further.

“Only slightly,” he retorts, head bobbing as he treads water, “Why don’t you join me?”

You shake your head vigorously, “Absolutely not. I’m not in the mood to freeze to death.”

“Come on, Little Bird. It’s not that cold,” he taunts, “How about we play a game?”

He swims closer and you subconsciously lean forward. A glint of mischief dances in your eyes as you ask, “What sort of game?”

He raises his arms out of the water and folds them across a rock along the edge. You gulp at the sight of his broad shoulders and can’t help but study the way his muscles ripple as he moves.

“Since you’re so privy to asking me questions,” he drums his fingers along the rock, “I get to ask you five.”

You fold your arms across your chest, “That’s it?”

A devilish grin dances across his lips, “If you fail to answer any question, you join me in here.”

Your eyes narrow into a glare, but your smile betrays you, “Three questions.”

“Four.”

“Fine,” you relent.

Eris wades gently through the water in thought before speaking up again, “What’s your greatest fear?”

Your mouth moves before you brain can catch up, “Being trapped—not like in a traditional claustrophobia sort of way, but in the sense that I can’t do what I want, move as I please.”

Eris’s head tilts as he mulls over your response before asking another question, “What’s your biggest dream?”

Again, your mouth moves with a mind of its own, “I want to travel the world—see every little piece of Prythian, and when I run out of land, explore the seas.”

“I thought your father is a merchant—you don’t travel with him?”

Your heart skips a beat as you realize your misstep. But, like the professional Azriel has trained you to be, you don’t so much as twitch an eye to show your error. “I only travel to the mainland of each Court to do is biddings for him. I haven’t seen much—really anything—beyond that,” you maintain a steady voice as you lie through your teeth, “Two more questions.”

Eris’s eyes narrow slightly as he scans your face. Your answer seems too…rehearsed. But you’ve shown absolutely no indication of lying. Finally, he asks, “What about your mother?”

Your detached exterior falters. Your lips dip ever so slightly into a frown. Eris watches intently. Finally, you muster a response, “She died during Amarantha’s crusade.”

Eris frowns and his head dips slightly—a sign of respect, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Your lips part at the motion. It is extremely uncharacteristic of Autumn Court males to treat females with such respect. In fact, Eris has surprised you with every single one of your interactions. Coming into this, you knew that he wasn’t a typical male, considering he wants Beron dead. But you weren’t quite prepared for just how, well, normal he is.

“Thank you,” you finally reply with sincerity. Your lips curl into a soft smile, one which you don’t have to force, as you change the subject, “Last question.”

He matches your smile and swims backwards, dipping his hair under water, “I’ve better make it good then.”

You watch as he swims to and fro, taking his sweet time deciding what nonsense he will inevitably throw your way. His questions have been far too calm and calculated thus far; and you haven’t refused one.

Right on cue, Eris swims towards you with a smile befitting of the devil. You can practically see the flames dancing in his irises, and the pitchfork tail wagging behind him.

“Does the carpet match the drapes?”

You were expecting nonsense. But you aren’t sure if anything could have prepared you for that.

Your face pales and you drop your jaw in utter shock. His is nearly as red as his hair as he tries, and fails, to contain his laughter. Suddenly, the switch flips and you face contorts into disgust.

“You are swine, Eris Vanserra. Filthy, perverted swine,” you screech as you leap from your tree stump.

He howls in laughter, and you want nothing more than to wring his neck. You turn swiftly on your heel and send him a crude gesture over your shoulder as you storm away.

“Oh, come back, Little Bird! I was only teasing,” tears spill from the corners of his eyes as he tries to calm himself down.

You pause and turn back towards him. Your glare is as icy as Nesta’s as you stare at him. He has never looked more like a fox through his snickering laughter. He swims to the edge of the water and beckons you forward. Your feet remain planted in the ground, “You promise?”

Tears of delight well again in his amber eyes as he replies, “Yes. I don’t care if they match.”

Your lips curl into a vicious snarl and you grab a rock, chucking it as hard as you can towards him. He barely dodges the flying stone through his hysterics. “Okay, okay, I promise I’m done now,” he wheezes.

You tap your foot impatiently as you wait for him to calm down. Finally, his manic laughter ceases, and he simply looks at you with a faux apologetic smile.

“Well come on, then.”

You gnaw on your bottom lip with a frown, “I’m not taking off my clothes.”

“If you swim in that dress you’ll drown,” he nods his head at the heavy material, “At least put on my shirt.”

You hesitate as you eye the cream, long-sleeved button-down shirt tossed haphazardly onto the forest floor. You reach down to pick it up and run your hands over the soft linen material. He senses your hesitation and adds, “I’ll turn around, if you’d like.”

Your eyes flick towards him, and true to his word, he turns and swims in the opposite direction. Still, you wait until he’s on the other end of the stream before stepping behind a tree and stripping off your dress. The breeze nips at your bare skin, and you shiver at the sensation. You take off layer after layer until you are left in your bra and panties. You hastily slide into Eris’s shirt and button it up all the way. It provides ample coverage, falling nearly to your knees—but you’re still freezing. And you can’t imagine the water will be any more pleasant.

“Come on, Little Bird. I won’t wait all day,” Eris whines, the nearness of his voice indicating that he had finished his lap around the water.

Finally, you step out of the trees. His Adam’s apple bobs at the image of you in his shirt. He doesn’t hide the way his eyes drift, scanning down your bare legs. A blush creeps up your neck, and before he can make a comment about your near nakedness, you set into a sprint and leap.

Your regret your decision before you even hit the water. And you want to kill Eris when you do.

“It’s fucking freezing!” you wail the second your head breaks through the surface. You wipe the water from your eyes through a series of hyperventilating gasps, your body working hard to generate some kind of warmth. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you,” you repeat your new mantra over and over again, unwanted tears pricking at the corners of your narrowed eyes.

“Come here,” he beckons you forward.

You shake your head in obstinance.

Eris rolls his eyes at your childlike behavior. He swims towards you in three graceful strokes. You scramble backwards in the water, but he is a much more skilled swimmer than you.

“Let me help you,” his voice his sweet like honey. You know this is his game—poke and prod until you bleed, and then lick the wounds clean.

You shake your head again and move to swim away, but he lunges before you can escape.

Instant, sweet, warm relief.

You nearly moan as his arms wrap around your body and pull you into his chest. He is hot—literally and figuratively. His chest burns like a furnace, and you wrap your arms around his neck without a second thought, pulling him even closer. You can feel him smiling as you nestle your head into the crook of his neck and wrap your legs around his waist. His legs work hard underneath the surface, keeping you both upright.

“Better?” he coos.

You simply grunt into his shoulder and nod.

His chuckle reverberates through your body, warming you even more. You are puddy in his hands, but right now, you couldn’t care less. You don’t utter a word as you relish in his warmth. The two of you slip into a comfortable silence, filled only by the distant rush of the waterfall and the water lapping up against your bodies. Just as you let your eyes flutter shut, the silence is severed by his rumbling voice.

“As much as I love your sharp tongue, Little Bird, I quite like you like this—sweet, soft, and pliant in my arms.”

You frown at the smugness in his tone and move to push away, but he wraps his arms around you even tighter.

“I’m still upset with you,” you grumble petulantly into his shoulder.

The tension in your shoulders eases as he presses his lips to the top of your head. You involuntarily shudder as he mumbles softly into your hair, “I’m sorry, Little Bird. Can I make it up to you?”

His hands move from underneath your thighs, and you wrap your legs tightly around his hips. Your breath hitches as he slowly trails his hands up over the curve of your hips. You are suddenly aware of how his button-down shirt floats to the surface, leaving your body almost completely exposed under the water. His hands still at the dip of your waist, and he rubs circles into your skin with his thumbs. His left hand leaves, and you flinch as it grazes the side of your neck, gently pushing your hair aside. Your heart beats frantically as he ghosts his lips along your sensitive skin. His open-mouthed kisses become firmer, but remain tentative; as if he’s giving you the opportunity to stop him.

Slowly, you raise your head from the crook of his neck. Your eyes are wide, pupils blown as your gaze cautiously shifts upwards. You study the rise and fall of his chest, the shift of his jaw, before finally meeting the amber of his eyes. Your noses are millimeters apart—far too close for comfort, but you’re frozen in place.

Your lips part as his left hand reaches upwards again, and he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Any façade of apathy is long gone as your eyes become a window to your soul: curiosity, trepidation, but above all, an unwavering desire. Your body moves on its own accord as you run your fingers through the hair at the nape of Eris’s neck. The tip of your nose bumps against his, and that’s all it takes for him to lurch forward and close the gap between you.

Your mind typically works in overdrive. But the moment Eris’s lips meet yours, it empties entirely. His lips are impossibly soft as they move against yours in a languid dance. His hand cups the side of your face as he deepens the kiss, and you can’t help but sink into his gentle touch. His lips are smooth against your chapped ones, but you move in sync—like giving breath to fire. His fingers dig slightly into your waist, eliciting a gasp, and he uses the opportunity to slide his tongue into the gap between your lips. You jump at the cold feeling of rock against your back, but he doesn’t miss a beat as he nips softly at your bottom lip. You can feel your heart pounding in your head and your lungs burn from the lack of oxygen, but you can’t bring yourself to pull away.

“Relax, Little Bird,” he mumbles against your lips.

He pulls away but before you can protest the loss, he dips down and latches his lips to your neck. Your own swollen lips part in a silent gasp as he trails kisses down your neck, to your collarbone. You dig your nails into his skin as he nips particularly hard in one spot, and he groans against you. The hand gripping your waist slowly lowers to the curve of your hip, and you suck in a breath. He pauses his movements, and you nearly melt as his eyes flick up to yours. He waits patiently, silently asking for your permission. Your head dips into a nod and before you can process what is happening, his lips are on yours once again and his hand is firmly gripping the curve of your ass.

This time, you can taste his hunger as he kisses you with fervor. Your head is spinning, and you grip around him tightens as he palms your soft skin underneath the frigid water. He presses you further into the rock behind you, and you freeze as his hand moves up and toys with the lacy fabric at your hips. He slides a finger underneath the band of your panties, and all of a sudden, the fog of desire clouding your mind rises.

“Wait,” you pull away with a gasp.

Even through your inner turmoil, you can’t help but admire the beauty of his tousled crimson hair, wide eyes, and swollen lips.

His hand stills against your hip, before retreating underneath your knees to hold you up as he did before.

“I’m sorry,” he pants, “I got carried away. If I was moving too fast, I—”

“No,” you cut him off, “You didn’t do anything. You were perfect—I mean,” your decades of reading ancient literature seem to slip away as you scramble for words, “It’s not you. I just haven’t, um, you know…”

He furrows his brows in confusion, but his eyes widen in realization at the flaming, red blush crawling up your neck. The look of surprise on his god-like features makes you want to sink into the cold abyss below and never come up. Instead, you look down at the water lapping up between you two to avoid his gaze.

“I didn’t realize you were saving yourself,” his tone his soft, a contrast to his typically sharp tongue.

The blush creeping up your neck reaches your cheeks as you look up at him again and shake your head, “No, no I’m not. I just, well, I haven’t before. Not because I don’t want to,” you sigh, “I guess the opportunity has just never presented itself.”

You brace yourself for the impact of his teasing, but it never comes. Instead, his usually cold eyes are warm with understanding, and a soft smile tugs at his pink lips.

“No one’s ever touched you before?” he asks with sincerity.

You shake your head and wish the water below you would swallow you whole.

He caresses the side of your face with a feather-light touch that makes you shiver before replying, “It’s not anything to be embarrassed about. I just can’t believe no male has ever pursued you, in all your beauty.”

No man has ever pursued you, because no man has been able. You lived the first twenty years of your life hidden between rows of bookshelves. You spent the next decade hidden in the House of Wind, and since then, you’ve only left Velaris with the sole intent of business with other courts. But you can’t tell Eris all of this. You can’t tell him that you’ve never had sex before because, despite their good intention, Mor and Rhys have kept you under their thumbs for the entirety of your adult life. You can’t tell him how you desire, more than anything else, to break out of their mold.

So instead, you say, “I want you to show me.”

Eris stares at you, his eyes swimming with an emotion you can’t quite put your finger on. You wait with bated breath, but he doesn’t move. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you lunge forward and pull him closer with your arms around his neck. The moment your lips reconnect, any thought in the back of your mind about your mission, your purpose for being here in the first place, dissipates entirely.

He groans at the feeling of your lips against his and wraps his arms tightly underneath your thighs. You barely feel the world twisting and folding as he winnows you out of the water. A wave of heat rushes over you and you can feel your whole body dry, but he doesn’t miss a beat as he carries you in his arms and runs his tongue along your bottom lip. Eris lays you down onto something soft, and you whine as he pulls away. Your eyes flutter open and your mouth sets into a pout, but for the first time, you notice the change in scenery.

You’re in a cabin—more accurately, on a plush bed in a cabin. But this cottage is much larger than what you’ve grown accustomed to in the woods.

“Patience, Little Bird,” Eris’s voice is thick with desire as he crawls on top of you. He nudges a knee between your legs, and you part them without a second thought.

He wears a smug smile as he dips down. You lurch forward to kiss him again, but he merely hovers a few inches above you, just out of your reach. You try again, this time tugging on the back of his neck to pull him down. But he simply won’t budge.

“Don’t be a prick,” you grumble, frustration boiling under your skin.

He laughs, and the sound makes something churn deep in your gut.

“Tell me where you want me, Birdie,” Eris rasps.

You frown, but you are too stunned to speak. You desperately want to wipe the smug grin off his face, but the words just won’t come out.

“Here?” he hums, rubbing his thumb along your bottom lip, “Or here?” his hand trails down your neck, to the curve of your breast. You hold your breath as he lightly drags his fingernails down to your stomach, pushing aside his shirt, “Am I getting closer?” he muses as he traces the band of your panties.

You dig your nails into his shoulders and whisper, “I want you to kiss me.”

Eris hums in approval and swoops down, reconnecting your lips once more. Your teeth bump slightly with the force of the kiss and your lips slide sloppily against his. You reach between your bodies and grab his hand, pressing it back against your abdomen before sliding it up.

“I want you everywhere,” you mumble against his lips.

He releases a guttural moan into your mouth. Eris doesn’t give you a moment to think twice as he flips your bodies around so that his back is against the headboard of the bed, and you are straddling his lap. You move to unbutton his undershirt which still engulfs your body, but he swats your hands away. You gasp into his mouth as he swiftly rips the shirt open, sending buttons flying across the room. You let him push the material off your shoulders, and shiver as the air tickles your nearly bare body. His hands slowly, teasingly wrap around your waist, simultaneously pulling you closer and unclasping your bra. His lips slow against yours as he drags the flimsy material over your shoulders and down your arms, exposing your breasts to him.

Eris pulls his lips away from yours and gazes down at your bare chest. You are unable to will away the flush crawling up your neck as he caresses the curve of your breasts and runs his thumbs over your peaked nipples. His forehead falls against yours and he whispers against your lips, “You are perfect.”

His head dips down towards your breasts and his amber eyes flick up to yours, “May I?”

You can only nod weakly in response.

Your eyes flutter shut as he wraps his lips around your left nipple and flicks his thumb across your right. Your belly throbs at the sensation, and you shift in his lap. You jolt as your core presses against his groin, and a small smile tugs at your lips as you realize he is hard as a rock. You shift your hips again, rubbing against him, and you both moan in unison at the pleasure that shoots up your spines.

“Did your filthy little books teach you that?” he groans against your left breast before switching to your right.

You dig your nails sharply into his shoulders but continue grinding against him. His free hand grips your waist, setting a steady rhythm. Your hands trail down his shoulders, and you scrape your fingernails down his chest as you explore the firmness of his abdomen. Eris presses one last open-mouthed kiss to your breast before pulling off. You don’t give him a moment to catch his breath as you cup his face with your hands and pull him up, crashing your lips against his again. His taste is intoxicating, and you just can’t seem to get enough of it.

His hands snake around your waist and he grips your ass, squeezing the soft flesh and grinding you against him even harder. Your hands dip down from his abs to the band of his underwear. You lazily graze your hand along the material, dipping your fingers underneath teasingly. Just as you’re about to reach your hand inside, he firmly grips your wrist and flips your bodies once again so you are lying flat on your back.

“As much as I would love to have your hand wrapped around my cock,” Eris presses a taunting kiss to the corner of your lips, “This is all about you, Little Bird.”

You watch the rise and fall of your bare chest as he lowers himself down the length of your body. His trails open-mouthed kisses down your neck, between your breasts, until he reaches the band of your panties. You suck in a breath as his eyes flick up to yours, and his fingers toy with the lace trim.

“Is this okay?” he whispers, fighting the smile tugging at his lips.

You nod dumbly.

You yelp as he hooks his arms around your thighs and tugs you down towards the edge of the bed. He runs a hand teasingly along your leg, up to your inner thigh.

“Tell me what you want, Little Bird,” he teases as he touches every part of your exposed body, except where you need him most.

You whine and wriggle your hips, but he firmly holds you in place. He cocks a brow expectantly as he softly caresses your inner thigh.

“I want you,” you whimper, “I want you between my legs.”

Eris hums and latches his lips onto the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, sucking harshly before running his tongue along the same spot, “Here?”

Your face is flaming with embarrassment. Your core is throbbing, and you’re positive there’s a wet patch on the center of your panties. You shake your head, tears of frustration pricking at your eyes.

He nudges a thumb underneath the band of your panties, “Am I getting warmer?”

You want to kick him, but you nod your head instead obediently. He presses his thumb directly on your clit through the wet spot on your panties, and you cry out at the sensation.

“I need words, Little Bird,” he presses his thumb harder.

Your thighs are shaking, and your desperation finally betrays you as a tear slips out of the corner of your eye.

“I want you on my cunt,” your voice trembles as you speak, “I want your fingers, your mouth, your tongue, I want it all. Please.”

His eyes darken, and a vicious smile curls onto his lips as he finally yanks the flimsy material down your legs and tosses it aside. He doesn’t give you a second to process the fact that you are completely bare for him as he runs a finger through you, admiring how your wetness collects at his fingertips. You nearly cry in relief as he finally presses the pad of his thumb directly onto your clit. Pleasure shoots up your spine as he flicks his thumb over the sensitive bundle of nerves, and you bite your lip to stifle a moan.

“Don’t be shy, darling. I want to hear how good I’m making you feel,” he purrs.

This time, you don’t stop the cry that bubbles in your throat as he increases the speed of his thumb and traces his other hand over your slick. He slides his middle finger over your entrance and pushes just his fingertip inside, his thumb continuously moving in a steady rhythm.

“Don’t tease. Please,” you beg, every ounce of self-respect left behind in that frigid stream.

He smirks and sinks his middle finger into you. You throw your head back with a moan as he curls it inside, pressing against a spot you had no idea even existed.

“I think you were made for me, Bird,” he mumbles as he slowly thrusts his finger inside of you, “I wish you could see the way your sweet cunt just sucks me in.”

You cover your face with the crook of your elbow to hide your embarrassment, but pull it away with a jolt as his teeth sink into your thigh; a warning.

He stops thrusting his finger, and instead curls it inside of you repeatedly, sending ripples of pleasure through your gut as he continuously stimulates that spot deep inside of you. A filthy squelching sound fills the room, but you too far past the point of self-consciousness to care.

Just as the tension starts to build in your gut, he pulls both of his hands away abruptly. You whine at the loss and look down just in time to meet his eyes as he runs his tongue in a long swipe up from your entrance to your clit. You cry out at the sensation unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. He moans against you, and the vibration makes your toes curl.

“You taste divine,” he rasps against you.

His tongue flicks against your clit, and you pant through uneven breaths. Your hands grasp at the sheets, desperately searching for something to stabilize yourself, and you throw your head back as he latches his lips over your bundle of nerves, sucking harshly. He sharply slaps your thigh and mumbles against your cunt, “Eyes on me.”

You all but melt as you glance down and meet his lust-filled gaze. His amber eyes don’t leave yours as he eats you out like a man starved. Your core continuously throbs, sending wave after wave of pleasure up your spine. You run your fingers through his crimson locks, pushing him against you even further, and he hums in approval.

You feel like you’ve been transported to another planet. And just when you think you couldn’t possibly take anymore, he runs a finger up your slit and sinks it back inside of you.

“Eris,” you mewl as he thrusts his finger while his tongue continues its ministrations against your clit.

He releases a guttural moan against you and curls his finger harshly against your spongy walls.

“Say my name again,” he murmurs against your slick before continuing, never missing a beat.

“Eris,” you moan as you feel the tension rapidly building in your groin.

“Again,” he groans, flicking his tongue even faster.

The pressure in your gut is almost too much, and you grip onto his hair for dear life as you chant his name like a mantra, “Eris, Eris, Eris.”

Which each utterance of his name, he curls his finger inside you. Your chanting is close to sobbing as the pressure builds, and builds, until the coil finally snaps.

Your vision blurs and you all but scream at the ecstasy coursing through your veins. You feel like you’re floating as waves of unbridled pleasure roll through your body, the tension in your gut finally coming to a head. Eris continues his ministrations as he rides you through your climax, until your legs spasm and your hips jolt at the hypersensitivity. He presses one last kiss to your core before slowly removing his hands. You can only watch in awe as he sucks his fingers into his mouth, licking every last drop of your slick from his hands.

Sweat beads at your forehead and your bare chest rises and falls rapidly as you come down from your high, slowly coming back to reality. His touch is gentle as he rises back up and lays beside you. You don’t protest as he pulls you into his chest and wipes away the tear trailing down your face. He presses his lips against your forehead and mumbles against you, “You did so well, darling.”

You rest your head against his chest and allow his warmth and the steady beat of his heart to calm you down. His fingers comb through your hair and scrape against your scalp in a soothing manner. You gaze shyly up at him, and find his eyes already trained on you. You wrap an arm around his chest and he pulls you closer, placing a sweet kiss on your chapped lips. You can taste yourself against him, and the thought makes you shiver. Your leg shifts between his thighs, and you can feel the hardness of his groin pressing up against you.

“What about you?” your voice is scratchy as you whisper against his lips.

Eris simply smiles down at you and presses his lips to your forehead, “Baby steps, Little Bird. Don’t worry about me—this was about you.”

Your heart melts at his words, and you can’t fight the small smile tugging at your lips. You rest your head in the crook of his neck and fall into a comfortable silence. The waterfall sounds through the walls of the cottage in the distance like a peaceful lullaby.

“Thank you,” you whisper shyly, eyes flicking up towards his.

He wears his foxlike grin as he stares back down at you, “For what?”

Your lips graze his jaw as you speak, “For showing me all of this. For letting me be selfish.”

Amber eyes smile kindly at you, “Don’t ever thank me,” he says simply.

He continues his gentle stroking of your hair, and your eyes flutter shut as you marvel at how your body fits against his like a mold.

You should feel guilty. Guilty for betraying your family. Dirty for putting your selfish desires above your loyalty to your court. But you can’t ignore how right it feels to be wrapped up in your supposed enemy’s arms.

You know the panic will soon wash over you. But for now, you allow yourself to indulge in the marvelous incredulity of it all as you fall into a peaceful sleep to the steady beat of Eris’s heart.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

taglist:

@lilah-asteria @goldenmagnolias @myromanempiree @i-know-i-can @hannzoaks @olive-main @rcarbo1

#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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mamayan · 1 year ago

Note

yandere jjk? with noncon(your wish) megumi /gojo/toji

Yandere Gojo Satoru, Toji Fushiguro, Megumi Fushiguro x Fem! Darling

cw: Not proof read • Gladiator JJK! • Slave girl reader • Dark • Yandere • NSFW • Fem/AFAB Reader • NONCON turned DUBCON • Punishment • Spanking • Darling has hair long enough to pull • Spitting • Oral/Deep Throating • PIV Sex • Anal/Anal Play • Double Penetration • Gangbang • Praise/Degradation • Humiliation • Dumbification • Overstimulation • Dom jjk men • Sub reader • Kinda fluffy? • Manipulation • Sadistic Satoru (kinda)

wc: A lot? Idk like 4k or more, I did half on google doc and half here lol

Porn with no plot, just straight porn.

“Hey, Meg,” it’s bad. This entire day couldn’t be going more horribly wrong.

“Hn?” A soft grunt for someone covered in so much gore.

“Your old man care we’re in his quarters?” The white haired male had his eyes covered by a strange metal band, one usually connected to a helmet. He wore no head gear though, hardly any armor either. A testament to his confidence and strength.

“He doesn’t.” The dark haired male still dripping blood spoke back, but his eyes didn’t leave your cowering form.

“Well then shall we? I’ve been hard since I won my match. Be a shame to waste good meat when it’s offered up like this.” The vile and leering tone of the white haired devil above you only had your blood going icy. The cool wet stone beneath your aching knees and skinned up palms was a stark contrast to your boiling insides. They spoke as if you were akin to the animals kept beneath the Colosseum, as if you were livestock meant for slaughter and not a living person. You should’ve known better, your Master had been so eager to offer up a servant for the great Gladiator Toji upon the man’s request. It seemed odd to not send a more experienced servant… instead your Master sent you. A lesser slave and much more inexperienced… you now realize why after being sent below the arena you were only used to seeing from above.

Gladiators surely have earned their keep. Muscles and bared teeth, the Gladiators are warriors to their core, ready to spill blood and die at any moment.

A soft thing like you? They wanted to chew up and spit out. Swallow whole. Take you apart piece by piece until you knew nothing of your own name or life before. Except you were Toji’s and that meant something. Well, to everyone but the two younger males standing over you. The white haired male seemingly a bit older than the dark, the two close too as the older one leaned against his younger counterpart with a hand on his hip as he examined you behind his metal eye block. You knew who these two males were. Everyone knew who they were.

Satoru and Megumi, you’d only seen them from afar, not wealthy enough to afford to sit closer to the arena floor. Even from afar they left an impression though, at least on your soul.

Demons.

Creatures from hell which have proven unkillable. Megumi being Toji’s son, while Satoru acted as Megumi’s teacher. They ruled the arena, and it’s not a secret that Satoru is a noble’s son who willingly joined the Gladiators after serving in the Imperial military. Megumi too volunteered for his position, while his father stayed employed working off an endless debt due to a gambling addiction the wealthy enjoy feeding. His mountain of owed cash so overflowing it’s rumored he even owes to the Emperor himself.

Yet it didn’t explain why you were here like this. You’d been told indirectly from a stable hand that Toji wished you to clean and wait in his chambers, private unlike lower classed Gladiators. Instead you’d been grabbed and tossed to the floor by Satoru and spoken about before your very eyes. You weren’t a fool. What they, or at least Satoru wanted, was clear enough.

“I-I’m sorry if I offended m-my lords, p-please forgive—,” you were silenced by a hand raising, a slim perfect finger help up against plush pink lips. Satoru’s lips tilted up in amusement as he eyed you behind his shades.

“Nu-uh pretty, you be good and stay silent while we talk, okay?” He spoke to you as one would address a child, not how a man who was quickly untying his leather breaches might. He ignored your trembling form to return his attention to his pupil.

“She’s cuter close up like this, right Meg?” Satoru teased, happy to free his aching hard cock from the tight confines of his pants. He loved the look of fright in your wide doe eyes, a slight tremor to your bottom lip. “I’ve been craving to sink my cock into your little cunt for a while now.” He’s addressing you again, crouching down to get more to your eye level so you caught a flash of bright blue through the metal blocking his eyes. His grin is sadistic and jovial, sharp canines bared aggressively as he jerks his leaking shaft without shame while watching you.

“P-please don’t—hgh!” Your jaw is gripped in an iron lock by Satoru, who still smiles despite the furrow of his brow.

“Thought I said no talkin’? If I need’a say it again…” he leaves the threat open. You can only tearfully nod the best his grip allows, cheeks smushed and lips pursed cutely while your reddened eyes silently ask for mercy this time. His grip softens minutely, “Good girl~” he praises, smile becoming less vicious as he releases you to stand up again.

“Want her first Meg?” Satoru addresses the silent male, who stares down at you with the same intensity he held the moment you’d entered the chambers.

“Yes.” That chills you more than Satoru’s comment, Megumi’s demeanor more dark and strangely concerning as he steps towards you. You have a few options now, and your mind reminds you that if you don’t act now it’s entirely over for you. Your first option is to simply allow it to happen. You’re a slave with no status, and you’ve had your ownership transferred to a Gladiator in eternal debt with the most violent track record. These two before you have a close connection with your new owner, disobeying could mean death.

Then again obedience could mean it too.

You leapt, lucky enough to escape the hand reaching out to grab you as you sprinted for the door. The thick wooden frame made your muscles scream as you yanked it open, and just as your foot stepped through the threshold, you were yanked back by your hair. A sharp scream echoed off the stone walls, your legs kicking out in protest as you fought back wildly.

Megumi needle only one arm to yank you up off your feet and onto the low platform bed his father occasionally used to sleep on. It’s been weeks though since he’s bothered sleeping in his own chambers, more often than not bought home by a noble woman for the evening after matches to warm their bed for a steep price. He rolled his eyes at your dramatics, easily subduing you with a hand circling your neck and slowly decreasing your oxygen and blood flow.

It made you very compliant, much to his lower half’s enjoyment. The little whimpers and weak hands slapping at his chest were akin to a kitten’s attack.

“Let’s see here~” Satoru hums, quick to grip the fabric of your clothing between two hands and tear it down the middle. It was a useless endeavor to attempt to escape, as they chuckle and strip you entirely naked on the bed smelling of dust, sweat, and blood now. Both males haven’t showered, Megumi’s body the most blood soaked even after stripping. The metallic sour tinge to his masculine scent revolting as you turn your head away in disgust.

“Nu-uh~ bad girl, you keep your eyes on us, or I’ll just remove them from your skull. Okay?” It didn’t matter how terrified you were before, the thought of your eyes being removed had them snapping to the male who threatened you. He’d tossed aside his eye piece, letting you see the visibly beautiful face of a God it seemed smiling down at you. In a way he was a God, or at least blessed by one, his strength and power undeniable but wicked and cruel ways no less. One pale slender finger pressed against the side of your face, just under your eye, and Satoru took enjoyment seeing how quickly you froze up. “Be a good girl now, Meg hasn’t had a woman before, so you’ll both get to have your first! Isn’t that romantic?” It wasn’t, at least to you, but the almost dreamy look in the dark eyed male was unmistakable.

Megumi was certainly in a dream it seemed. How could he not be? You were here, beneath him, and completely naked and vulnerable to do as he pleased. Before today he was certain you didn’t know his name, or if you did it was merely from his matches. He knew your name though, said it a thousand times when he gripped his cock and worked himself over, moaning it while he came nearly every morning. He wouldn’t need to touch his cock anymore though. He had you now. Whether he needed to share you with his teacher or father wasn’t bothersome, it meant you had more eyes looking out for you anyway.

Satoru amused himself with scaring you senseless while Megumi parted your trembling thighs, settling his shoulders between them to keep you from closing them again. “Oh fuck,” he breathed, catching Satoru’s attention.

“Look how wet she is…” Megumi couldn’t bring himself to much else but admire your soaked cunt even as you mumbled quiet pleas and prayers.

“Oh? Are you a little pervert Y/N? Do you like the thought that we’re going to fuck you?” Satoru’s relentless, soft lips pressing close to your ear and whispering his intentions and insults against the shell while you writhe at the feeling of something soft and slimy poking through your folds. His tongue, you realize with a jolt of him licking up, grazing your sensitive little clit. Your gasp doesn’t go unnoticed by either male, and soon a wide chiseled chest blankets you as Satoru captures your lips in a heavy kiss and invasion of your mouth. Megumi focuses on your lower mouth though, fingers digging into the fat of your thigh as he struggles to retain his sanity as he loses himself to your taste and the erotic euphoria filling him. Every little wiggle and moan encourages him on where to lick and suck, and eventually his fingers sneak down and into your quivering wet hole.

“Mhm! P-plea—!” Satoru muffles all protest with his mouth, one free hand playing with your chest while you struggle to avoid the building pressure in your lower belly as Megumi relentlessly attacks your nub and hole. He flicks and meanly pinches and pulls your nipples, enjoying how your spine arches up each time he bullies them. He doesn’t let you avoid his kiss, and if you close your mouth he plugs your nose and forces it open again so his tongue can taste you.

It’s too much, and you’re coming much too quickly from their rough attention.

It doesn’t end though, only changes as Megumi lifts up, dark hair slightly limp and falling into his eyes as he softly smiles at you, much like a lover might despite the horrid situation. “So good f’me, think you can do it again for him?” He’s not really asking, as he switches places with Satoru who looks overjoyed and viscous as he stares at your quivering dripping pussy.

“Course she can, just listen.” Satoru laughs, messily rubbing your overly sensitive clit and eliciting a yelp from your swollen lips. The lewd wet noises produced from his heavy petting only increasing the shame building inside you as you tearfully whine and try to twist your hips away. “She’s soaking the bed too. We’re getting everything dirty anyway, let’s just fuck her up as much as possible.” You don’t understand what that means until two fingers sink all the way inside you without warning.

“Oh Gods!” Your short cry is silenced again when Megumi decides to kiss you. His lips more tentative and the taste slightly shocking until you realize you’re tasting yourself on his tongue. Despite all you wish for, it makes you tighten on Satoru’s fingers as he gleefully curls them up inside your gummy walls.

“Think she likes how she tastes.” The devilish comment only makes Megumi groan in response, pulling back slightly to reply. “She tastes fucking delicious.” He murmurs against you, stealing your breath again while your poor cunt is finger fucked by Satoru at a quick and forceful rate. Each thrust of his hand accompanied by a loud squelch as he uses his other hand to ensure you stay spread and still despite the panic striking you.

“Mh! S’too’—ngh!!!” Even as you squirm and cry, neither lets up until you’re breaking this time, orgasm so strong you feel your eyes roll back.

“That’s it pretty girl, cum for me,” Satoru nearly comes with you as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, fluid rapidly forced from the confines of your cunt and out as you squirt for him. It’s a sight for sore eyes, the cute fucked out expression on your face as they force your body to relax and lubricate itself for their pleasure.

You’re too out of it to notice the switch again, Megumi back between your thighs but this time holding his curved thick cock between his fingers. Gripping it, he pulls back the skin hiding his sensitive head, easily slicking the tip up. The bulbous soft head smushing against your clit and folds and dragging up and down as you squeak and tiredly roll your head to look up and down.

It’s too late to truly realize what’s happening until his hips are surging forward and the tight ring of muscle at the opening of your pussy is stretched wide open on his cock for the first time. Your scream is silent, mouth open but no noise leaving. Instead you hear Megumi’s moans, short gasps of pleasure huffed into the humid and heating room as he struggles to work his shaft into your tight canal either trying to suck him further in or force him out. Your contracting muscles and choked gasps only spur him to fuck deeper until you’re filled inch by inch with him.

He bottoms out eventually, your sweaty bodies tinged slightly pink as he rubs against you, smearing blood from the Gladiator he killed today on your skin now.

“Wow~ look at how well you’re taking him, here, I’ll help.” In your shock and daze, you’d nearly forgotten about Satoru. The male happy to lift you up and make you see the enormous cock now swallowed up inside you, filling you almost painfully as you shake. “How’s it feel Meg?” He asks, blue eyes looking at Megumi’s strained expression.

“G-good…” is all he can manage. It’s better than good, more than good will ever be, but it’s all he can choke out without snapping and fucking you roughly.

“Hm~ it’ll feel better if you play with her here,” Satoru guides, his striking blue gaze focused on you with a nearly malevolent intensity as you grit your teeth to attempt to adjust to the intrusion more gracefully. He ruins it though, skilled fingers dancing down your belly and right to where you’re most vulnerable. Your cry isn’t silenced this time as Satoru presses down on the fleshy pearl above your opening. Megumi’s clumsy thrusts have spread you to your limit while Satoru rubs your nub with calculated precision.

“F-forgive me…I-I’m sorry…” both males look to your face now, confusion painting Megumi’s flushed face while Satoru seems enamored.

“How cute~ what’re you apologizing for?” He doesn’t let up. His fingers give you no rest and Megumi’s jerky thrusts seem intent on staying as deeply buried as possible. “Shh, being s’good, relax for me.” Megumi murmurs close to your ear, leaning over you some as Satoru braces you from behind.

It’s too much. You’re clamping down tight around the hot shaft stuffed deep inside, muscles contracting almost painfully around him.

“Gods—fuck, she’s so tight,” he sounds in pain, his nails digging in more harshly into your flesh as Megumi struggles to withhold his orgasm. It’s useless, moments after your own crashes down, he’s spilling into you, thick spurts of cum filling your womb as you groan and lay limp in Satoru’s arms.

Megumi recovers faster than you though, kissing your tired sweaty face as you blearily stare up in a daze.

He finds it cute.

Satoru does too. Happy to simply pull you up under your arms like a rag doll and position over his lap and against his chest.

“I can’t—a-anymore, no more—,”

“Poor thing. Has no one told you it’s good to push your limits? I think you can. Should we see who is right?” Your pleading look is lost on Megumi who merely pats your hair down, face serene as he watches you. Satoru gives you no time to recover before he’s wrapping an arm around your waist and lifting you.

“No cryin’ now, I let Meg stretch you out good n’well, I don’t want any tears unless they’re from how good I’m fuckin’ you.” His grin is sinful as he lets gravity sink you on his cock, the low light of the candles on the wall giving the illusion of sunset across his pale pretty features.

“O-oh!” Satoru snickers a laugh as you moan in startled shock. His words not a lie as he stretches you out in a different way. Where Megumi had been thick and curved, Satoru was much longer, hitting so deep it felt like the air was knocked from your lungs. It was enough a surprise to have you holding onto him, making the white haired Gladiator coo at you.

“Look at you~,” he’s not gentle as he bounces you on his cock. “Am I just so deep in this pussy? She seems to like how I fill her out, she’s just gushin’ all over me.” He holds onto the fat of your ass, hands spread wide to help anchor and rock you as he thrusts up. “Stay awake, pretty girl, remember what I told you? Eyes on me.” It’s difficult to concentrate on his husky voice when it seems he’s intent on breaking you, each time his shaft struck deep inside you swore your vision blurred. This wasn’t the slow overwhelming pleasured pain forced on you by Megumi… this was just rough sloppy sex with a maniac. Nevertheless, you do as told as try to keep your eyes open and on Satoru. His gaze didn’t waver like yours, despite the sweat sliding down his cheek, he never lost his arrogant smile or sparkle in his eyes.

A stark contrast to the lax expression you wore, lips parted and wet as you struggle to even swallow as you tearily moan like a whore in a brothel for these Gladiators using you like a sex toy. Your fucked out face and impending orgasm are what send Satoru over the edge. When your soft warm pussy creams around him and your eyes cross, Satoru can’t help but nearly whimper as his balls draw up tight and he fills you up along with Megumi’s earlier load.

The dark haired male seemingly content to watch or occasionally praise and pet sweetly while Satoru savagely used you.

It’s over, it must be over, you think as Satoru pulls out of you slowly with a soft pop, lifting you up and off to the side to lay you down. You can feel their combined releases leak down your thighs, soft hiccups escaping you as you catch your breath and come down from the intense high.

You feel nearly hollow as both men stand and begin loosely dressing, holstering their weapons back into their bodies as they prepare to simply leave.

It hurts worse despite all else.

“Pretty girl looks heartbroken Meg, should we stay?”

“Not when he’s coming back from a match, we need to meet with the Emperor before he goes back to the Palace.” Megumi shakes his head, his gaze softening when it lands on you.

“We’ll be back in a few hours, be good.”

They’re gone after those words, and while your heart filled with fury and humiliation, your eyes burned with sadness and something akin to loneliness. Just as you’d finished wallowing in self pity, ready to pull yourself together again and clean up both yourself and the mess made, the door opens again.

Both of you freeze, though for different reasons.

Toji froze because he’d forgotten he’d had you sent here, and you froze because a monster was standing before you.

Your scream is muffled before it leaves your lips, one single palm covering nearly your entire face as Toji looms over you in his full arena battle armor, the black intricately designed metal dripping crimson as he drops his weapon to the ground with a clang.

“Non’a that shit. Hear me, girl?” You nod weakly to show you listened.

Once he was sure you weren’t planning to scream his ears off more than the crowds already did, he released you and took another look.

Cute and well fucked is his first appraisal. He briefly recalls Megumi telling him his wish to have you, so it’s not strange his kid had jumped on his new slave so quickly. The marks littering you were likely that asshole’s doing, his kid too soft to be anything but be sweet towards the object of his affection. Toji briefly considered getting paid for his services tonight, but he was tired, and you looked fresh enough still.

“They fuck you good?” His question brought a baffled look to your face, amusing him as he begins unfastening his ties and removing his armor. You stay awestruck before him as he slowly sheds his persona in the arena, his laid back rugged appearance quite handsome up close as he towers over you with both height and brawn.

“M-master—,” you would either be killed or sold, there’s no way—

“You think you can handle me too?”

You stand nude before your new master still dripping the cum of his son and peer, and he asks if he can have a turn too?

“Yeah. I think you can.” He answers himself in your state of shock, and despite the sweat and blood coating him, he’s unabashed as he strips naked and corrals you back onto the bed.

“M-master please, I-I need to clean up! A-and sh-should run you a bath!” You were grasping at straws, frantically trying to escape the beastly male now licking his lips with a smirk, the scar in his mouth tugging up. You make the mistake of looking down, only to see the monster he contained beneath his armored belt.

Why was it so big? The girth alone frightened you, his length even longer than Satoru’s too, the veins running along the enormous shaft made your poor slick cunt still dripping cum clench. He’d break you. There’s not a doubt in your mind as you crawl away, his advance never slowing as he chuckles at your display.

“I don’t see why ya can’t clean after, hn?” He descends like a wolf to prey, easily pinning you down on your back, slotting his body between your thighs and forcing them open painfully wide to accommodate his size. “Don’t even need’t prep, still drippin�� huh?” He smiles, lazily grabbing his heavy appendage and lubricating himself through your folds.

“P-please master, it won’t fit—hah!” Your cry of shock only makes him sink faster and deeper into you, pressing and forcing himself into your cunt which protests the weighty thick invasion of the older male above you. He smells like the earth, like soft dirt and grass, metallic like copper, and sweat. Toji watches as your back arches further and further up, the sharp angle not looking entirely pleasant but it pushes your bust up for him to lean over and capture a perky nipple to suckle on, his teeth grazing the tip and groaning as your cunt spasms around him.

“Never understand why women say it won’t fit,” Toji mumbles against your saliva covered tit, strings of it still connected to his mouth as he casually addresses you despite pulling out and making you feel like he’s going to take your insides with it. “Y’can push a baby through here, my cock isn’t as big as that.” Not the point, but you’re too feverish to pay attention any longer as he begins sliding in easier and easier as the combined releases from earlier lube his cock to fuck you.

He sees the strain on your face, the shaking of your thighs and the tears leaking down your cheeks again. Generously, Toji lifts up under both your knees and hoists you higher, holding your lower half up and allowing himself to slide deeper. The girlish squeal you release only has his hips snapping harder, working his cock in as deep as he can, feeling the stress of the day melt in your soft tight pussy. He grunts as you cum, mouth open as drool escapes down your chin, cute wet moans so soft and breathy as you shudder and gasp.

“That feel good?” He smiles, the dopey expression on your face too cute for him not to bend down and capture your lips this time. Sucking and nibbling on your lips till they’re swollen before he delves his tongue into your hot mouth, his tongue taking up too much space until you’re squirming for air. He denies you it, swirling around your own pink appendage while rocking you with each thrust, rolling his hips expertly until your eyes are going crossed and you’re meeting his thrusts with your own. When your hands move to touch him, he restrains them, curling his much larger hands around your own and putting them beside your head while he presses you up and down into a mating press.

“Oh gods,” you can only cry for mercy, begging for more or less you aren’t sure, as he languidly pumps his cock into you until you don’t know up from down.

“No gods here girl, just this fucking tight little cunt y’got here, beggin’ f’another load.” You can’t even shake your head, in fact you find you wouldn’t mind it, the feeling of his hot seed spilling into you. He’s pressed you down so well you can’t even wiggle your hips, only moan and whine waiting for him to speed up, to fuck you harder.

He doesn’t. Just keeps the same steady pace and rhythm, balls slapping your ass at the same time, slimy and wet with all the mixed fluids your cunt has forced out by Toji’s invasion. Toji ignores your nonverbal cues for more, smirk still the same as he even occasionally grinds in deep to watch your eyes widen and lips part. The soft squishy leaking tip of his cock continuously smushing up against the soft barrier of your cervix, ready to spill his load and fill your womb.

“Master~” you begin to lose it completely, arching up as well as you can to press your chest to him, “Harder! Please fuck me! Please, harder please—,” a mindless chant for more, just a little more, to push you into that crest of euphoria where you crave to be again.

Who is he to deny such cute lewd begging?

Toji laughs, grin bared like a wild animal as he leans even more weight down on you before picking up his pace, pounding you into the mattress while your eyes roll back into your skull and you scream your impending orgasm. It hits you so hard you pass out for a moment, vision completely darkening as waves of pleasure engulf you.

Toji spills his load not long after, groaning deep in his throat as he releases as deep into you as possible, hips stilling and locking against your groin to ensure your cunt doesn’t waste a drop.

“Hey,” you’re too out of it, as he taps your cheek and only receives a blissed out smile and clouded vision. Just as he prepares to pull out and give himself a minute before fucking you again, his door opens.

“Boo~! You stretched her poor pussy out with that thing. I wanted to play with it again.” Satoru whines, blue eyes narrowed in childish petulance.

“Shut up, brat.” Toji rolls his eyes, cocking a brow at Megumi who moves silently around to check on you. His small smile at the pretty expression you wore grew, looking so fondly down at you it made Toji’s teeth ache.

“Hey~ Meg, you gonna use her? Otherwise I will~” Satoru begins undressing shamelessly, Toji’s exasperated glower ignored as the white haired male joins them in bed, tapping his hard cock on your puffy slick lips, letting you taste his salty precum.

“Fucking brats.” Despite his words, Toji feels his cock hardening again inside your warmth, giving a few short hard thrusts into your cunt to fully harden. He grips your hips and rolls so you rest on his chest, digging his fingers into the fat of your ass and spreading your cheeks for the two younger males to see.

“She’s got another hole that can be filled.” Toji grunts, beginning a slow a pace sensual pace inside you, more rocking than actual thrusts as you mewl against the hard planes of his chest. Satoru shivers, licking his lips as he brings his face down to where your puckered back entrance rests untouched. He’s unbothered by Toji’s thick cock spreading your pussy open, opening his mouth and letting his tongue prod your ass while you jolt and tremble in Toji’s hold.

“Easy girl, ain’t gonna hurt.” He mumbles, roughly petting your hair while you turn your face away to look back, only to feel fingers gently tangle in your hair.

“Here,” you’re being fed more cock, Megumi’s leaking swollen tip smearing his fluids across your closed lips until they open and he can plunge into your mouth’s warm depths with a moan. Your mind slowly goes blank again, the earlier feeling of panic fading as Satoru plays with your ass, using your own cum as lube and spreading it over the hole before playfully pressing his thumb into the tight space.

You moan around Megumi’s cock, the shaft sinking deeper into your throat while Toji fucks you a little faster, feeling you tighten with Satoru’s intrusion.

They play like that for a while, slowly speeding up before becoming languid again, turning you into a soft wet mess in their hold as Satoru finally lines his cock up with your free hole, groaning loudly as he fails to press inside. A sharp slap to your ass tears you free from your bliss, the pain biting but making the pleasure stand out more as Satoru looks at your hole in irritation. “Hey, sluts should just relax, let me in,” he complains, slapping your ass again and making you do the opposite and tighten.

“Shit, tight fucking pussy,” Toji moans, moving you up and down his shaft faster while Satoru tries again, spitting on his dick lewdly and pressing the tip back at your hole, hips driving forward and finally breeching. “Ngh—!” Satoru nearly cums on the spot, feeling the tight ribbed walls of your ass strangling his cock as he spears you open.

You’re so full it’s unbelievable, head empty and completely blank while feeling two thick cocks open you up while Megumi continues to fuck your mouth.

You can’t say a word, only feel as Satoru sets the pace while Toji helps rock you back and forth. With your hips occupied with Toji’s hands, Satoru instead wraps his long slender fingers around your neck, dragging you away from Megumi, loose enough for you to breathe but tight so he can draw you up against his chest as he drives into your tight sphincter with short jerky thrusts, lips pressed against your ear as he groans low in his throat. Megumi stands, perfect height with you lifted like this to comfortably slip his cock back into your mouth and down your throat. It’s too much and not enough at the same time, the slow clapping of skin and trembling movements, no one wanting this to end too soon while you writhe and jerk in their hold as they use you.

“I think you like being our little whore, huh?” Satoru whispers in your ear like a demon. “Feeling us all fill your filthy holes, making you our pretty slut to fuck however we want.” He’s so deep inside you, hips flush with your ass he stretches you on his cock, the thin skin separating him and Toji continuously stretched and rubbed from inside. A mess of fluids coated you all from below, so much so it was all wet squelching and moans from the languid movements of the gladiators. “Bet you’d like it if we just chained you up to fill all your holes, right Princess?” His condescending tone is lost on you as you feel your lower belly tighten painfully, the fullness becoming more evident as you get closer to your end.

“Don’t tease her,” Megumi huffs, looking fondly at Satoru with a hint of exasperation. “She’s being so good, taking all of us so well,” he feels you swallow around his rod, eyes fluttered closed as he thrusts into your mouth. “We should reward her.”

Toji chuckles, knowing exactly what the two were up to.

“Oh~? How should we reward our little cum Princess then?” You stutter as you feel Toji shift his hand and press down on your belly, body shaking as your eyes watered. Your hands were useless trying to push him away, only feeling his cock twitch and flex inside of you while he smiled.

“She looks close, should help her finish.” Megumi huffs, his own end nearing as you slobber and choke on his cock.

“Hmm~ guess I’ll be nice, this time,” he breathes the last bit in your ear threateningly, but the seductive undertone has you shaking in a way that isn’t from fear. Satoru releases one hand from around your throat to dip down until he can swirl his finger around your swollen sensitive clit. It’s already covered in slick, easily letting him press and grind down, feeling you buck and moan in their grasp beautifully.

“You gonna cum Princess? All over our cocks?” Satoru has you clutched close as he fucks you, helping forcing you down on Toji’s cock while you groan around Megumi’s length. “Cum for us, let us ruin you.” It’s like he’s a prophet for the Gods, because when you do cum, you do feel ruined. Megumi’s hips stutter as you gluck and allow his cock even deeper, his balls drawing tight as he floods your throat with his cum.

Satoru and Toji cum shortly after, grunting and moaning their own finishes while you’re cradled limply against Toji’s chest now, eyes unfocused as you’re filled again and again.

Your dreams provide you with sweet relief, as you’re left unconscious in Megumi’s arms as he cleans you in a warm bath he’s pulled and heated.

“No fun~ she looked cuter covered in cum.” Satoru grins, but his smitten expression isn’t missed by Megumi who shakes his head with a smile.

“She won’t sleep good like that.” Is all he says, gently washing you clean and drying you off to take to bed. The bed Toji hardly ever uses now occupied by four occupants.

Toji watches in silence as you’re laid down, Megumi calmly sliding in while Satoru flatly lays at the bottom of the bed.

“Sure you want her?” Toji asks as the silence descends on them all.

Megumi’s dark gaze flicks up to his father.

“Hmph, acting like you don’t?” He challenged back, only to be met with a smirk and a heavy hand landing on top his head, making Satoru cackle.

You awake clean and warm, with a new pristine silver chain wrapped around your ankle and chained into the stone wall.

Satoru wasn’t kidding.

Dividers by @benkeibear

If you liked this, please reblog!♡ It is what sustains me, well, coffee too but reblogging is the dominant factor—

#not proof read #tw: dark content #tw: noncon #jjk #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #yandere jjk smut #yandere Gojo Satoru #yandere megumi fushiguro #yandere toji fushiguro #Gojo Satoru x reader smut #Megumi fushiguro x reader smut #toji fushiguro x reader smut #jjk x reader smut #x fem reader #idk I’m tired

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florencemtrash · 1 year ago

Text

Heads Will Roll | Azriel x Reader Oneshot

Warnings: Violence (aka Reader kills some fae and Rhysand and Azriel are 100% cool with it), fluff

One of Koschei's followers turns up to the Court of Nightmares prepared to make a bargain: your life in exchange for Ataraxia. But he'll soon learn that you are not to be underestimated, and you are always exactly where you want to be.

Azriel bristled from behind Feyre’s shoulder when the male winnowed into the Court of Nightmares in a dramatic display of power that had everyone beneath the dais falling back.

He was all sharp lines, emboldened by the pure black silhouette of his cape that flared out behind him, teasingly parting to reveal the bone white sword strapped to his right hip that seemed to whisper with horrible power. The only piece of him that didn’t look like it was cut from death and destruction were his bright blue eyes - startlingly innocent and all the more unnerving for it. He fit in well with the violence the Court of Nightmares naturally radiated.

Rhysand’s eyebrow curled up in a look of carefully crafted boredom from atop his obsidian throne. The only one who looked more nonchalant than him was Feyre. She tilted her head up, staring down the slant of her nose to the unknown male as he extended his arms and bowed as prettily as a bird.

“Greetings.” Even his voice was sharp and cutting. “To the Lord and Lady.”

Cassian frowned from behind Rhysand’s back at the omission of their proper title. To the outside, Rhysand was anything if not bored. Inside, he was ready to blow the male to bits. He wore Koschei’s stamp on his forehead, red and dripping like a fresh wound.

Neither the High Lord nor the High Lady deigned to reply.

The male only smiled. All teeth.

“I come to you on behalf of my master.” His smile grew. More teeth. “You may have heard his name.”

“Koschei.” The name rolled off Feyre’s lips as easily as if she were ordering a meal - blasé and unimportant. But the name shifted the energy in the room, stirring up hornet's nests of gossip. Heads bowed towards one another like grass stalks in the wind, whispering.

Feyre tapped one finger on her forehead, “He has a fondness for marking his followers.”

“Like a collar on a dog.” Rhysand finished. He stroked the bond, grounded by the feeling of Feyre’s very soul on the other side. She had always been - and always would be - his calm.

“My name is Darwynn.” The male tipped his white head, “And I bring news from my master. News you may find worthy of your time.”

Azriel’s heart picked up in his chest.

He knew what was coming - the words that would soon slip out of Darwynn’s mouth. You’d been gone for over a week and he felt your absence from his side as intensely as if someone had ripped the wings from his back. Empty, cold, and unbalanced.

For the first three days he hadn’t worried, even as the bond lay dormant in his chest. It wasn’t uncommon for you to hunt after secrets, unraveling mysteries like threads in a coat or diving into the unknown with an insatiable appetite.

Three days were nothing. But nine days was getting to be concerning.

“Go on.” Feyre said with a wave of her hand, looking more interested in the glass of wine in her hand than anything else.

Darwynn reached into his pocket and pulled out a thin string of silver stained with blood - a necklace crafted from unbreakable metal with a deep blue pendant swaying like a pendulum. It was a piece of one of Azriel’s siphons, imbued with a small measure of his power and given to you as a Solstice gift after you’d accepted the bond. In the twenty years you’d been together, you’d never once taken it off. It was unnatural to see it swinging in the cruel male's hands.

Cassian growled. Azriel’s jaw clenched, beautiful brows lifting only ever so slightly in surprise. It was the only expression the Shadowsinger had shown all night.

Rhysand mirrored his expression. “Ahhhh yes, my sister. How long has she been missing for now, Az?” Rhysand looked back at him, some unspoken agreement passing through that brief glance. If this male had truly captured you, he would not be leaving this room with his head still on his shoulders.

“Nine days.” The Shadowsinger said, his mouth twitching to the side in a cryptic mix of a smirk and a snarl.

“You have her.” Feyre said. It wasn’t a question.

Darwynn’s eyes lit up with glee and he nodded, clapping his hands together like a child opening birthday presents.

“And what do you want for her? That is why you are here, is it not?” Feyre said once his “applause” ended.

Darwynn shook his finger at her, “It is comforting to know that since Amarantha’s trials, you’ve learned to - how shall I say this? Read between the lines.”

“Careful.” Rhysand said, a warning trapped within that honey-laced word. Feyre’s illiteracy was hardly a concern for anyone anymore - Rhysand had seen to that - but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a subject that smarted and burned when prodded.

Feyre’s dark red lips only turned up in a small smirk. Her mate would not allow any harm to befall her - even insults from pathetic creatures such as Darwynn.

"But I digress." Darwynn said silkily, “You should know she is uninjured-”

“Obviously,” Cassian huffed under his breath, stealing a glance at his brother beside him. Azriel was handling this surprisingly well. If it were Nesta who’d been kidnapped and held for ransom, Cassian would not be able to school his emotions so readily.

“And my master would like to make a trade.”

“A trade?” Rhysand said, displaying more interest in the subject than ever before. This was an opportunity to play Koschei’s hand. To gain whatever knowledge they could from the slippery sorcerer who was gaining more momentum each passing day. Koschei was still confined to his lake on the continent, but that didn’t mean he was powerless. No, not at all.

Darwynn pointed a knowing finger at Rhysand’s belt where Ataraxia rested as silent as the death that hung over a deep winter’s night.

“I see.” Rhysand said.

So that’s what he wants. Feyre spoke to him through the bond, Some trace of Nesta’s power.

Y/n was right. He wants to leave the lake.

And he needs whatever power Nesta took from the Cauldron to do it.

Rhys hummed in thought, one finger lazily tracing the edge of his drink. He knew his sister, knew the power that raced through her veins, and she was not one to be trifled with. But people loved to underestimate her - the poor second child too weak and damaged to fight after losing her wings to the old High Lord of Spring. The female who rested on her brother’s strength and crown like a sapling tied to a stake. She wielded those assumptions carefully. It was perhaps one of her greatest weapons.

Nine days. She’d been gone for nine days. Nine days since he’d sent her on a mission to the continent to spy on Koschei’s followers. Six days since anyone had heard from her. Three days since her scheduled return.

Azriel stiffened and blinked - a movement so subtle that only Rhys, Cass, and Feyre noticed. All at once the tension left Rhysand's shoulders. Such a reaction from Az could only mean one thing - you'd arrived.

Rhysand clicked his tongue disapprovingly, taking a deep draught of his wine and muttered, “She’s late.”

“She likes to be thorough.” Azriel said with the smallest of smiles.

“Even so. I don’t like to be kept waiting. She could’ve been captured sooner. Escaped earlier. Given us notice that she was coming.” He shook his raven black hair.

Azriel smirked, feeling the strength of the bond in his chest. Never wavering, “Maybe she finally decided to adopt your flair for the dramatic.” His golden hazel eyes flickered upward for the briefest of moments and you flashed him a quick smile from where you hid in the mountain rock above.

You’d only just opened your side of the bond, love and reassurance rolling over him like a flood. You were safe. You were whole. And you had carried out your plan beautifully.

Sorry to keep you waiting, my love. I had business to attend to. You spoke to your mate and only him.

I'd wait forever for you. You know that.

He felt your laughter through the bond like the fresh rain.

Who would've guessed the Spymaster's such a romantic.

Only for you. Only for you.

Darwynn narrowed his eyes, lips flattening into a thin line as pale as the moon. Something had changed in the air and he couldn't put his finger on it. This wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting. He knew the Inner Circle were practiced in hiding their emotions but this… they almost looked pleased. Cassian especially was grinning like a madman, suppressing his laughter as Rhysand sent his thoughts to his mind.

“My master keeps good on his promises. But until you give me the bade, I can’t promise you what pieces of your wife there will be left to bring back.” Darwynn snarled, even as that feeling of dread grew in his stomach. He’d walked in here so confident. He needed to regain that confidence. He relaxed his shoulders. Stood up taller.

A wet thud echoed throughout the hall. Someone screamed - a female with blue-gray skin reeled backward, one hand clamped over her mouth in horror as she tripped over her blood-splattered silks.

A decapitated head - warm, oozing, and less than a day old - lolled on the floor. Its eyes were frozen in a look of surprised horror.

Darwynn’s heart stuttered to a stop when he recognized the bloated and bruised face. The face of one of his strongest males, left behind on the continent to watch over Koschei’s prison.

Rhysand smirked and raised his wine glass towards Darwynn. The High Lord’s power flooded out over the room, knitting together a powerful web of magic that made it impossible for anyone to winnow in or out. Except for you of course - his darling sister who never failed to find the weak points in his magic and slip through as slyly as a cat.

“There’s something you should know about my dear sister.” Rhysand’s voice boomed over the near-silent room without even trying.

A second head dropped from the ceiling. Then a third. Then a fourth. Laid out in a neat little arc around Darwynn.

“She never gets caught. She is always precisely where she wants to be.”

Azriel’s eyes were trained on the slate gray arches overheard where he could just barely make out your form as you winnowed around the room, hiding in the shadows and dropping your gruesome packages in a neat circle around Darwynn’s shaking form.

The male unsheathed his sword, spinning around madly and counting every thud until all twelve of your guards were accounted for.

All dead.

All of them.

He growled dangerously, eyes beginning to glow a brilliant, icy blue as he aimed his power at the dais, right towards Rhysand. Azriel smiled with cruel satisfaction when you slipped out from behind Darwynn’s silhouette, bloodied and menacing. The knife glinted in the faelight, catching the curve of your arm as you spun around and drove the weapon through Darwynn’s eye. The light wrapping around him fizzled out into anything.

The male rocked on his feet, arms going slack and dropping the sword with a clatter on the ground. His legs gave out soon after, his body crumpling in on itself as easily as paper.

You calmly rolled down the sleeves of your blood-soaked shirt, flicking a piece of gore off your shoulder in a manner so similar to Rhysand that your brother couldn't help but chuckle.

You flashed him a grin - a stroke of white brushed across a red splattered canvas.

“Brother.” You said, tipping your chin up in a show of greeting.

“A bit dramatic, don’t you think, sister?” Rhysand gestured out to the Court of Nightmares. You spared them a look. Everyone looked positively sinful in their scraps of silk and exposed skin, silent and trembling as their dinners burned their way up from their stomachs to their throats.

You shrugged and winked at Rhys, “I learned from the best.”

“Go get cleaned up.” He said. It was a clear and direct command, but you didn’t miss the warmth and hint of pride in his voice.

“As my High Lord commands.” You said, bowing deeply.

At home. Rhysand spoke in your mind as you straightened. Get some rest. You did well.

You sighed in relief, happy that you would be free from whatever Court of Nightmare business left to attend to.

Thank you.

There was a brief pause before Rhysand continued, But next time you plan to get kidnapped, let me know. I was actually starting to worry and I’m not sure my old heart can take it.

You snorted, I’ll keep your elderly constitution in mind next time.

You dipped your head once more before winnowing to the River House. The smell of home nearly knocked you off your feet.

There would be more time to joke around with your brother - more time to tell him everything you’d learned - but right now you were in desperate need of a bath.

______________

You sank into your third bath of the night, groaning in pleasure as the hot water rolled over your aching muscles. The first two baths had purely functioned to scrub off the dried blood from your hair and skin. The majority of it wasn’t yours. But this bath, with all the fragrant oils and scents, was for enjoyment and relaxation.

It was no easy business getting kidnapped, and no easy business escaping. But like every other mission, you’d made away like a bandit in the night, carrying with you priceless pieces of knowledge and enough secrets to demolish an entire court.

Your eyes flickered open at the feeling of shadows lacing around your arms, soothing your skin with a cool touch that was no replacement for the hands that followed.

Finally your mate had decided to join you.

You sighed in happiness as Azriel trailed his fingers up your arms, scarred hands landing at your neck and gently tilting your head back so he could plant a firm kiss on your lips.

The bond sang within your chest more joyfully than a songbird. You didn’t like silencing this connection, you didn’t like shutting Azriel out, but sometimes your work necessitated it. It was for your safety as much as his. But no one understood that more than the Spymaster of the Night Court.

“Hello, my love.” Azriel’s voice vibrated through the air, warming your chest and shaking your bones.

“Hello, Azriel.” You murmured, soapy hands trailing through his raven black hair so that he was completely surrounded by your scent.

“Gods, I missed you.” He said. He knelt on the tiled floor behind you, wrapping his arms around your bare chest as he buried his face in your neck and breathed you in. “I missed you so much." A kiss on your neck, "So, so much.”

“I missed you too.” You murmured, pulling him around to the side of the tub so that you could see him better. You traced the faint purple bruises beneath his eyes. Not an unfamiliar sight. Azriel had never been a restful sleeper, but since mating and marrying you, he’d been spoiled rotten and now could barely sleep a wink without you curled up in his arms.

“Sorry I messed up your hair.” You apologized, twirling the now damp strands of his hair so they curled around your fingers.

He smiled. It was a rare sight to anyone other than you, but seeing him happy never ceased to warm your bones.

“You did well, darling.” He said, smoothing back your hair before saying more seriously, “But next time could you tell me your plans before you shut me out?”

You winced. “I’m sorry. There wasn’t time.”

“I figured as much.” Azriel said, kissing your cheeks to show that he wasn’t upset. You leaned into his touch as he traced your cheekbones with his thumbs.

You were the most precious thing in the world to him. More precious than his wings. More precious than his freedom. More precious than the 500 hundred years it had taken him to finally realize what you were to him. The thought of losing you was more painful than a knife to the stomach.

“You can trust me.” You said, “I know how to handle myself.”

Azriel chuckled and shook his head, “I am very well aware of both those things,” He tilted his head in thought, “And I’m fairly certain everyone else also knows now.”

You blushed, “Maybe it was a bit much.”

Azriel shrugged, “Maybe. Maybe not. All I know is one thing.”

“And what is this one thing?” You asked, leaning forward and capturing his lips in another kiss. He tasted like cedar and rain. He tasted like home.

“That you should never be afraid of showing your power. Never. No matter what happens. No matter what people say.”

His hand that had been cradling the back of your neck moved down, tracing the scars on your shoulder blades where your wings had once been. You shivered under his touch, but didn’t recoil. He understood. He was perhaps the only person who understood what it meant to have such a physical piece of yourself taken away.

You kissed his hands, taking care to feel every valley beneath your lips and worship them. They were a part of him now, tied to him as much as his shadows were, and so how could you not love them? How could you not love him? This male who was your equal in every way imaginable and who made you feel happier and safer than you ever thought possible.

He helped you out of the bathtub, drying your skin and hair before carefully brushing through all the tangles and knots.

“I should go report to Rhys.” You said with little determination as Azriel laid you out on the bed and then crawled under the covers beside you, pulling you against his chest and wrapping you both under the protective cover of his wings.

“Let it wait until tomorrow. Let me have you tonight.”

You smiled, “I’ve only been gone nine days.”

His hazel eyes melted into yours. “Nine days too long, Y/n.”

You could never deny him anything when he looked at you like that, so full of feeling and a rawness too intense for words. And it wasn’t like you were dying to leave this bed and chase after your brother. Like Azriel had said - it could wait until tomorrow. So you melted into his arms and watched as Azriel slowly fell into a deep sleep for the first time in nine days.

______________

Author's note:

A woman covered in the blood of her enemies is *chef's kisses*

That's it. That's the note.

#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x rhysand's sister #rhysand's sister #acotar fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger #inner circle x reader #the inner circle #azriel x you #azriel #shadowsinger x reader #feyre archeron #rhysand #high lord rhysand #High Lady feyre #cassian #cassian acotar

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sinner-as-saint · 1 year ago

Text

not without you

Viking Chief!Bucky x Witch!Reader

Run-through: You’re a powerful witch, famous and respected for your mastery of magic and ability to control the elements. Naturally, people always need you. Vikings, kings, and common men alike, be it to magically save dying crops, help them win battles, or to protect their people by manipulating the weather. One day, a certain blue-eyed Viking chief asks for your help. Bucky Barnes – one of the strongest, most feared of his kind, known for his ruthlessness and brutal nature. He offers your wandering self shelter and protection in return for your help in keeping his people and crops alive and well with the harsh winter approaching fast. And you can’t seem to refuse his offer…

Themes: witch!reader, viking chief!bucky, smut, fluff, mild knife kink, cosy winter vibes, metal arm, tatted!bucky, possessive!bucky, slight angst, HEA,

a/n: thank you for 28k. I love you.

The wind whispered that he was on his way to you.

By the time the Chief and his men made their way to your makeshift shack on the edge of the woods, you were already out waiting for them.

Hidden under your billowy cloak, with the hood hiding most of your face, you stood and faced the men with confidence. You couldn’t see them, given the hood, but you sensed the way the Chief got off of his horse, clutching his sword in hand as he took a step. Not in fear, no. But in that arrogant way you’d expect a Chief to move.

“Witch.” He greeted you. It was the only way he could greet you anyway, nobody knew your name.

You smirked. Finally peeling your hood off your head. You gave him a brief nod, “Chief.” You looked him right in those ocean blue eyes of his and judging by the look in them, you could tell he wasn’t used to people maintaining eye contact with him. He was an important man after all, and most people feared him.

But your magic had a way of reading people for you and… there was nothing to be afraid of. Not of him. He did look every bit of the fearsome viking he was known as though. Thick furs couldn’t hide the tall, muscular body. His shoulder length brown hair braided in some places. His handsome face was serious, like he rarely smiled. And all that ink all over his neck, and arm – just one arm because the other one was made of pure metal.

You had heard stories of how he’d lost his arm in battle, and how a great, benevolent king – also a close friend of his – had the metal arm constructed for him.

But above all else, the Chief was devastatingly handsome. You’d known, courted, and befriended quite some men. Hunters. Lords. Warlocks. Princes. Kings. Yet none were quite as devastatingly handsome as the Chief.

You quickly looked behind him and saw two men standing taller and prouder than the rest of the warriors. The wind whispered their names to you. Sam. Steve. Both were just as handsome as their Chief, however there was something about the male standing in front of you with a sword in hand. Thick white fur wrapped around his shoulders. Clear, icy blue eyes. Pink mouth. The cold made his cheeks and nose red.

“We heard rumours that you were close to our village, and we’ve come to ask for your help.” The Chief said, gracefully, calmly.

You gave him a nod. “I know.” You said quietly. “The north wind brings news that this winter will be exceptionally harsh.”

Bucky gave you that look that most people gave you when they figured out that your magic was indeed real. He was just a little surprised, but composed himself. “We desperately need your help.” He spoke again.

You agreed to help of course. This was your purpose with the magic you had.

And since you had little to pack, you went with them immediately. They didn’t bring an extra horse so you rode with the handsome Chief back to his village where you would be spending the entirety of the coming winter.

You never asked for anything in exchange. Some witches did, most of them did not. Mainly because you never needed anything, you had magic and you could conjure anything you wanted out of nothing. But you liked having company of people. So you considered that payment.

And after spending months on your own, you were looking forward to meeting new people, helping them.

During the ride back to the village you’d be calling home for the coming months, you felt the Chief tense behind you. His muscular arms circled around you as he held the reins but he was respectful enough to keep a few inches between you and him. You could only assume how much stress he was putting on his back to keep him from slouching forward.

You hid your smile as you sensed that he was nervous. “You don’t have to be so tense.” You said, turning your head to the side a little. “Witches don’t bite.” You spoke quietly so that the men behind you wouldn’t hear.

“I don’t…” He let out a huff of warm air. “I don’t want to be disrespectful.”

You smirked, but he couldn’t see it. “I’m just saying, you could use the warmth.”

He didn’t know what you meant until he slowly inched closer, his chest pressing against your back. Even with the multiple layers separating the two of you, your body heat wrapped around him in a way that had him sighing in relief.

Without another word said, his metal arm wrapped around your middle as he pulled you against him even more. You smiled as he leaned in to whisper into your ear, “You’re very warm.” He sounded a little surprised. His deep, gravelly voice making you shiver despite the warmth.

“Magic, remember?”

He hummed in response, keeping his arm loosely around your waist as he took you to his village. The tension between you two felt electric.

—

The ride wasn’t too long, and soon you arrived at the village. It was larger than you had imagined. Busier, but tidier.

Once you got past the tall, wooden palisades you could see more of the daily activities. Hunters sharpening their weapons, warriors training, children running around. You spotted the vast crops, the rivers.

There was so much you couldn’t see, but the elements spoke to you. You knew there was a lake here somewhere. The Chief’s hall was beyond the wooden houses which were scattered all over. You knew there were people gathered somewhere near the beach, working on building a new boat. Multiple boats in fact.

“Welcome to my home.” The Chief whispered as he led you deeper into the village.

Judging by the relieved smiles on people’s faces as they spotted you, you knew they were aware that you were here to help them. You smiled back to as many as you could on your way to the main area, in the middle of the village.

The Chief helped you off the horse and when you thanked him he said, “You can call me Bucky. All my friends do.”

You gave me a smile, “Alright, Bucky.”

He nodded, then pointed at a wooden house, not far from his residence, and said, “I hope you’ll be comfortable here.”

One of the ladies was beside you immediately, saying she wanted to help you get settled in. So with one last glance at Bucky, you made your way to your new, temporary home.

–

The moment he walked into his home, sighing in relief at the feeling of warmth, his two best friends rushed in after him, grinning like they were up to no good. Bucky rolled his eyes at Sam and Steve as he poured wine into three cups.

“What?” He barked at them, handing them their cups before he sat on one of the few stairs that led to his seat. The one he sat on when he had to act as Chief. But when he was with his friends, he didn’t like sitting on it.

“Are we going to address the heated looks you and the witch have been sharing or are we going to pretend nothing’s happening here?” Sam teased, leaning against a nearby table.

Steve chuckled, sitting down near the fire in the middle of the room. “Yeah Chief, what’s going on?”

Bucky glared at them both. He loved them to death, would die and kill for them in a heartbeat. But gods, they could be so annoying. “Enough,” He grumbled as they both laughed shamelessly at him, “She’s our guest. Most of all, we need her to survive this winter. Be respectful.”

Sam smirked and said, “Is that what that was on the ride back? The two of you as close as lovers? Was that you being respectful?”

Steve’s laughter echoed around the hall. Bucky wanted to chuck his cup at both of them but he didn’t want to waste the wine so he just rolled his eyes again, “Get out both of you.”

“Oh come on, Buck.” Steve spoke up, “With her as your wife we would be unstoppable.”

Sam nodded, “Exactly.”

“Both of you, shut up.”

“I mean, she is beautiful. If you’re not interested, I might check out what else her magic can do when-,” Steve stopped talking the moment Bucky threw his cup at him, wine and all.

Sam choked on his drink and laughed even harder.

Shortly after, Bucky kicked both of them out of his home. He was surprised at how it suddenly got hard to breathe or think the moment Steve even jokingly hinted at getting intimate with you. Bucky felt so protective over you despite having met you just hours ago.

He just wished he could keep that under control for the coming months. You were his guest after all. He couldn’t be inappropriate.

—

He couldn’t sleep that night. The village was quiet, dark. The night was cold given winter was approaching really fast. The next day, he had plans to give you a tour of the village and thinking about spending hours with you was making him nervous. But in a good way. Gods, he was turning into a little boy with a crush. This was bad for his image.

He couldn’t sleep, so he figured a walk might tire him out. So he layered up in his favourite furs, grabbed a torch and stepped outside. It was dark, save for the moonlight. And also light coming from your temporary home.

Bucky was walking towards the wooden house before he even realised it. His hand was knocking against the door before he could talk himself out of it. He should let you rest. He should act like a grown up and walk away right now. Being Chief he should–

He stopped functioning the moment you opened the door and looked up at him. Dressed in a beige night dress, a woollen blanket wrapped around your shoulders, and the dimmed light of the torches made you look ethereal just standing there at the door.

You spoke first, “Bucky.” You didn’t sound surprised. You knew he was coming over the moment he stepped out of his home. “It’s rather late, is something wrong?” You couldn’t help but ask. You knew he was coming over, but you didn’t know why. Your magic, fortunately, didn’t allow you to read minds.

Bucky placed the torch on the sconce by the door and cleared his throat, standing proud and tall like one would expect him to. “I saw your lights were still on. I couldn’t help but worry so I… uh, came to check.” He paused, awkwardly. “Do you… are you comfortable? Do you need anything?”

You sensed his slight nervousness even without using your magic. You tilted your head to the side and smiled at him, “I’m very comfortable. Your people were kind enough to–” You stopped, noticing how foggy his breaths were, “Please come in,” You opened the door wider, “It’s cold out.”

Bucky accepted the invitation. As soon as he stepped in, you placed your hand on his chest. Bucky blinked and in the fraction of a second, he felt comfortably warm. He gave you a thankful smile.

You smirked playfully and whispered, “Magic.” Then you moved towards the makeshift kitchen, “Tea?”

Bucky grimaced and said, “I don’t like that bitter stuff.” He mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

You chuckled, “I bet you will like this one.” You went ahead and made him chamomile tea, with warm milk and a generous dollop of honey.

By the time you brought the mug to him, you found him bent over your little desk. He was looking down at the map you were currently making, your special black ink on special parchment paper.

Bucky whispered his thanks as he took the mug, then said, “You’re making a map of the village?” He sounded both amazed and confused. “No one has been able to make one this accurate. You haven’t even… “ He paused, “Of course,” He smirked, “Magic.”

You smiled. “Maps help me control my spells better. It’s enchanted parchment you see,” You pointed at the map, “I can even work from here with the help of the map.” You looked back up at him and saw the look of delight on his face as he took his first sip of the tea.

He raised an eyebrow at you, “You laced this with magic as well?”

You giggled, “No, just milk and honey.”

Bucky just stared at you with soft eyes. In the dim, golden lights his eyes twinkled like that of a wolf. You stared into them, neither of you spoke. Until he finally blinked, pointed at the map and said, “It must be incredible, being this talented.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle in a self-deprecating way. “Talent.” You repeated, looking down at the map. Then quietly said, “I was always taught and told that my magic was a great weapon. But thank you, I guess.”

Without another word said, Bucky placed his half empty mug down and grabbed both of your hands in his large, warm ones. He tugged you closer, gently. Just the slightest bit so he could have your undivided attention.

“You’re not a weapon. You won’t ever be one, not here.” He said, softly. Slowly. “You are our salvation.”

You had been repaid in many ways throughout your life. Chests filled with gold. Jewels. Feasts and balls thrown in your name. Even a few marriage proposals from influential families. But no one had ever told you that you were their salvation. Something about Bucky saying it, even before you got him and his people through the winter, made you tear up just a little.

His face softened as he wiped that tear away from your cheek with his slightly cold metal arm. “I mean it.” He whispered. Then he leaned in and kissed you on the cheek, whispering, “You are so beautiful.” Then a little closer to your mouth. “So warm.” Then finally pressed his lips against yours as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer and pressing you against the soft furs he was wearing.

You couldn’t help but moan quietly into the kiss. That made him growl, made him deepen the kiss. His warm hand cradled your face as his metal arm wrapped around your waist. His lips were surprisingly soft, and his kiss was gentle. Sensual. Your hands wandered over his chest. You could feel his heart racing. You could feel him breathing deeper, but refusing to break the kiss.

You gasped in pleasure when his mouth left your lips briefly to kiss along your jaw, making your heart flutter in anticipation. But then, he stopped and pulled away. He was breathless, frowning, his lips wet and pink.

“I… I shouldn’t.” He licked his lips and you almost moaned again. “You’re…” He took a deep breath. “You’re my guest. And you only just got here.” He shook his head, as if disappointed in himself. “I shouldn’t have pounced on you like an animal like that.”

You fixed the blanket around your shoulders, giving him a playful, though disappointed, smile. “I’ve heard a lot of things about you, but no one even mentioned you were such a proper gentleman.”

Bucky cleared his throat, then gave you a heated look that screamed that if he didn’t get out of here right this instant he would surely be pouncing on you again. “I should go.” He mumbled. “Thank you for the tea.”

You nodded, “You’re very welcome. I will see you tomorrow, for the tour?”

He nodded. Then as he turned to leave, he paused. He turned back around and unwrapped the thick white fur from around his shoulders and placed it on your desk. The tunic he wore was loose around his neck so you could see the ink on his skin peaking through. “Keep this,” He said, “you might need it for tomorrow.”

You smirked, understanding what he was playing at. He knew you could keep yourself warm. But he just wanted you to wear something of his while he showed you around tomorrow. He wanted everyone to see you wearing something of his. You had heard of vikings being territorial, and truthfully, you didn’t mind this one bit.

You played along, pretending to be oblivious. “Won’t you be cold then?”

As he stepped out of the door, he turned to look at you. Smirked and said, “I think your magic will keep me warm enough.”

You chuckled as he shut the door behind him, took his torch and left. Who knew the Chief would be such a flirt?

—

Bucky had never been this excited to give someone a tour of his village. He was at your door the next morning, early and ready. He knew you already had a map, but he wanted you to see the place properly.

You caught the approval in his smile when he saw you wearing the fur he left you as you stepped out to join him. He was wearing black furs, and looked just as majestic.

“My people are delighted that you’re here to save us from the winter,” He said as the two of you began walking towards the centre of the village, the busiest part he told you. “So expect a lot of gifts along the way.”

You didn’t know what to expect. And even after politely refusing many, many tokens of thanks from his people, you already had baskets filled with cheese, berries, fresh bread and you were even done with the tour yet. Bucky, of course, carried the baskets for you.

He was in a good mood, you realised. He was showing off a little as he gave you the tour. Showing you all the new warehouses, the new boats that were being built near the beaches, the new houses being made as the number of people grew.

He showed you the hall where himself, Steve, and Sam often trained young kids. They taught them how to fight, to defend. They’re vikings, they need to be ready, he said, for anything and everything.

He had a glow on his face as he spoke about the kids, and you couldn’t help but ask, “How come you don’t have any?”

Bucky gave you a faint smile. Then said, “After my father died, I had to take care of everything around here. And I guess I never had time.” He paused, “I also never found the right person.”

You turned to look at him and he was looking the other way, surely hiding a smirk. You decided to drop the subject.

Bucky led you deeper into the village, near the lake. “It looks incredible in the summer, but–,” He stopped talking once the two of you heard male voices shouting. It sounded like it was coming from the lake.

You followed Bucky as he rushed to the lakeside and let out a groan. You chuckled once you saw what he was looking at. His two friends, Steve and Sam, arguing in the water about who pushed who first.

Bucky sighed and said, “I apologise, I wish these two would act like adults.” Then he yelled at them, “Hey! Stop trying to make me look bad. And get out of the water both of you, I can’t have you both freeze to death!”

You watched how the two of them swam towards the shore and eventually got out, trembling.

“Gods, I hate you.” Sam said, shivering.

“You pushed me!” Steve argued, shoving Sam.

Sam shoved him back, “You pushed me!”

“Enough!” Bucky turned to you and said, “My useless friends,” He introduced, “I wish you would’ve met them in more normal circumstances.”

You laughed, then walked up to the two men. “Hello,” You said and placed your hands on each of their shoulders, your magic would keep them from shivering. And the moment you touched them, they both sighed in relief. “There, that should keep you warm until you get home.”

You couldn’t help but check them out. They were both muscular and fit, and the way the wet tunics clung to their bodies… their muscular torsos, and biceps bigger than–

Bucky cleared his throat and you quickly looked away. You were almost certain Sam and Steve were smirking as they mumbled their goodbyes and hurried home.

“We should get back.” Bucky said, his mood immediately turning sour.

When the two of you did head back, he walked you to your home, handed you your baskets full of food and gifts, whispered a brief goodbye and left. You had planned that you would ask him to join you for dinner, as a way of thanking him for the tour. But he was just so grumpy on the way back that you decided not to.

But then you were restless the whole evening. You made yourself a quick dinner and sat by the fire to read but something didn’t feel right.

As it got later, the village got more and more quiet. And dark. When the wolves began howling you knew it was very late, but as you looked through the window, you saw that the lights inside Bucky’s home were still lit.

He was awake.

You debated walking over to his place, but then decided not to. You had to get to work the next day and surely you’d get a chance to talk to him then.

—

You visited the crops first, drawing your runes in the dirt. That’s where you ran into Steve and Sam. They wished to introduce themselves properly, and the three of you began talking. They showed you around for a little while, making you laugh at their jokes and stories of their childhood.

They kept you company while you worked and at some point, you sensed that someone was watching you. You knew who it was before you even turned around.

There was Bucky standing, proud and tall, quite far from the crops. The same broody expression on his face as the day before.

You almost lifted your hand to wave at him but then he walked away.

“We better leave,” Steve said with a mischievous smile.

“I’m afraid if the Chief sees us around you again he might behead us in public.” Sam winked at you and then walked away.

So Bucky was jealous.

After you were done with the crops, as you made your way home in the afternoon, you ran in Bucky in the village centre. He was on his way home as well, you realised, so you walked a little faster until you caught up to him.

Once you were beside him, you said, “Hello, Bucky.”

“Hello.” He mumbled.

“I worked at the crops today, I drew my runes.” You told him.

“I know, I saw you earlier.” He said.

His voice held enough distaste that you couldn’t help but ask calmly, “Why are you angry at me?”

He threw you a look and mumbled grumpily, “I’m not angry. I’m very grateful that you’re here.”

"Then why won't you talk to me?" You asked. "You look like you're angry." You paused, then asked, "Is it because I was talking to your friends?"

He stopped walking immediately. Turned to face you and said, "What were the three of you talking about anyway?"

You had to hide a smirk as you answered, "Nothing in particular. They were just keeping me company." Seeing he still had that broody look on his face you asked, “Does that bother you?”

He scoffed. "No." He frowned. "Why would it? You're free to talk to whoever you want, you're our–"

You cut him off, "Guest, yes. I know." You smiled. "Well then, how would you like to have dinner with me tonight?"

Bucky's bright blue eyes stared at you, an unexplainable expression in them. "Another time." He said much to your surprise.

The rest of the walk back was filled with awkward silence.

That night, you were restless. After a quick dinner, you sat by the fire to read but you couldn’t quite get into it. Then you got up and looked through the window and saw that the lights in Bucky’s home were still on.

Again. He was awake. This time you didn’t think twice before putting your cloak on and walking to his front door. It was so quiet that you could hear the knocks echoing. Two knocks later, Bucky opened the door.

His braids were undone, yet he looked just as handsome. “It’s late.” He said.

“Also very cold, you should let me in.” You said.

Bucky opened the door wider, letting you in before shutting the door.

You walked into his home and took it all in. The place smelled like him, and a little smoky. Probably due to the fire that burned in the middle, keeping the place nice and warm. You saw his seat. His swords and weapons hung on the walls, along with artworks. Furs and rugs scattered on the floor, the place was cosy.

“Nice place.” You commented as you turned to face him. You found him leaning against a nearby wooden column, with a drink in hand.

He gave you a curious look. “Surely you didn’t walk all the way here to comment on my home.” He said. He looked good. The dim light from the torches made him look like a god. Long brown hair, pretty blue eyes. His tunic was loose now, showing a lot of the ink on his skin. His metal arm caught the light a few times, shining occasionally when he moved.

You felt your heartbeats echoing louder in your ears the more you looked at him. And then… then he had the audacity to slowly lick his lips.

That did it. You walked up to him, carefully took the cup from his hand and brought it to your lips. You held his stare the whole time. You took a careful sip because whatever it was, it was very strong. Then said, “No, no I didn’t.”

Bucky gave you a heated look. One that was familiar from the other night when he kissed you. “You know, it’s rude to snatch someone’s drink. Especially the Chief's.”

You smirked at him. “Do something about it then,” You added mischievously, “Chief.”

“Oh?” Bucky’s metal arm was around your waist in no time, pulling you into his warm, muscular chest. “Now you want my attention?” He taunted, his voice deep, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the smirk on your lips. “What about when you were shamelessly staring at other men right in front of me? Or what about earlier, when you were–”

You cut him off with a chuckle. “Just say you are jealous.” You took another sip from his drink. “And if this is how you treat your guests then I think I can imagine why everyone fears you.”

“I’m not jealous,” He mumbled, nuzzling your cheek. “I just don’t like seeing you with other men.”

You gasped, and almost dropped the cup in surprise as he kissed along your jaw softly, biting you playfully while he’s at it. “So possessive,” You whispered, “We only just met.” You teased.

His grip tightened around your waist before he pulled away to look at you. His blue eyes now dark with desire and longing. “Yet I haven’t been able to think about anything other than wanting to have you all to myself ever since I kissed you that night.” He said.

He looked down at your mouth as he spoke, and it only made your heart race faster. “Bucky…” You weren’t sure what you wanted to say to him, you just… wanted. “Please.” You found yourself whispering. Pleading, which you had never done before.

Bucky clenched his jaw and turned, pressing your back into the wooden column he was leaning against earlier. The cup fell to the floor, neither of you paying much attention to it. His metal hand cupped your face and he stared into your eyes as he spoke.

His voice was dangerously low as he spoke, “You must understand, if we do this there’s no going back.” He said, looking down at your parted lips. “If we do this, you’re mine.” He reiterated, “If we do this,” He leaned in to brush his soft lips carefully against yours, making you gasp and whimper, “You belong to me and only me. Are we clear?”

The rasp in his voice and the feral desire lacing his words already made your brain foggy. “Yes,” You whispered, placing the palms of your hands pressing against his warm chest and partially exposed skin.

He wasted no time in undoing your cloak and letting it fall to the floor and pool around your ankles. Bucky had a devilish smile on his face once he saw that you were wearing nothing beneath the cloak except for flimsy undergarments. Near transparent ones.

Bucky’s eager hand trailed up your body, gently, starting from your thigh all the way to your breasts. The warmth of his hand made you shiver in pleasure. “So this is why you were complaining about being cold?” He whispered in your ear while his hand ran up and down your sides. “I thought you could manipulate elements to keep yourself warm.” Your body felt like it was on fire under his touch.

“Well, I can manipulate the elements.” You said. Bucky pulled away to look into your eyes. “But there’s nothing quite like body heat.” He smirked at the sight of the look of mischief in your eyes.

Then he gently tugged on the delicate necklace around your neck, toying with the crystal pendant leisurely as if he had all the time in the world. As if he couldn’t see you squirming under his touch, wanting more.

“It’s…” He frowned at the crystal, now holding it between two metal fingers. “It’s moving.” He whispered, and sounded so genuinely confused that it made you smile. Who knew this tall, muscular, godlike man could be adorable?

You nodded, looking at the crystal. It was clear mostly, except for a greyish, dark, flowy mist moving around inside it. It looked like smoke trapped inside the crystal, but it was just energy. “I was given this by my family the day I left my home when I was a young girl. As a gift. For protection.” You explained.

You looked up to find him looking down at you with a heated, wild look in his eyes. “I’m here now,” He said. “I’ll protect you. Always.” He pulled you closer, pressing your barely clothed body against him.

You smiled, sliding your hands up until your fingers slid into his soft hair. The light from the burning torches began to dim, making the room slightly darker but still golden. The smirk on Bucky’s handsome face signalled that he knew you were messing with the torches.

“I want you,” You whispered, pressing your lips to his cheek. The slight stubble felt rough against your mouth. But it only made you wonder where else it would feel rough. And you couldn’t help the quiet moan that escaped your mouth.

As if he could read your mind, Bucky chuckled. He grabbed you by the neck, tightening his grip just a little, enough to make you feel warm all over. “I don’t think I could be gentle…” He whispered, his metal hand reaching for the fine dagger he kept on him at all times.

He carefully pressed the tip flat against your lower lip. Your heart began racing faster. Bucky slowly dragged the tip of the dagged down your chin, down the side of your neck, down in between your breasts before he cut the fabric, slicing it in two and letting that fall down to the floor as well. You hissed as the cold air hit your now exposed breasts. Bucky seemed pleased as he let go of your neck, his hand trailing down to fondle with your breast instead. You tipped your head back and moaned at his touch.

He kept the dagger pressed against your skin as he leaned in to kiss your exposed neck, “I don’t want to be gentle.” He said.

You let out a gasp as he slid the tip of the dagger sideways, circling your nipple with it deliberately slow. “Good,” You whispered, “I don’t want you to be gentle.”

Bucky chuckled. “Oh, you’re perfect.” He dragged the tip of the dagger down, sliding it slowly across your abdomen, right above the waistband of your undergarments. Over and over again until you were squirming, and gasping, and grinding on nothing.

“Please,” You said, looking at him with soft eyes.

Bucky held your stare as he slid the dagger under the fabric of your undergarment and sliced that off of you as well. Fuck that sound of fabric tearing off of your body did something to you.

“Please,” You begged again. You were unable to ignore the wetness in between your legs anymore. Neither could he.

Once there was not an inch of fabric shielding you from his hungry stare, Bucky threw the dagger onto the pile of your clothes and next thing you knew, you were being pushed down onto a nearby pile of soft furs.

He pinned you down by your throat, as he hovered above you, leaning over with his metal hand wrapped around your neck firmly while he stared down into your eyes. “You look so beautiful like this.”

You gave him a smirk and said, “It’s your turn. I want to see you.” You wanted to see the ink on his skin, trace it with your finger. You wanted to see him naked on these furs with you. You had never longed to touch someone like this before.

Bucky held your stare, arrogant grin on his face as he pulled away to take off his tunic and lower his pants.

You let your eyes feast on him. Ink covered more skin than you thought, but it suited him. He looked every bit the fierce Viking he was. You wanted to take your time and admire the artwork on his body but… later. Right now, you wanted him.

You grabbed him by the neck and pulled him closer, pressing your mouth to his and kissing him deeply. “I want you,” You whispered again.

“I know, sweetheart,” Bucky’s hand was back around your throat as he growled into the kiss, “I know.”

Guess he could take his time and caress every inch of you like he wanted to later, right now though, he needed to have you. He was hungry for it. So he pulled away from the kiss, parted your legs and slid a finger inside you, reassuring himself that you were ready for him.

Bucky groaned when he found that you were dripping for him. “All that for me?” He teased, settling in between your legs and pressing the tip of his cock against you. You gasped and whined as he slid the tip of it up and down your slit.

“Please,” You begged, whining. “Hurry up or I swear to gods I will make sure your house is always freezing throughout winter.”

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh, leaning down to press a kiss on your forehead. “No need for all that, little witch.” He whispered as he pushed his cock into you, stretching you out in a way that made it hard for you to even think about anything else.

“Do I feel good inside you?” He questioned, teasing and knowing full well you weren’t in a headspace to answer him. His hand was around your throat and his cock buried so deep inside of you that he knew you couldn’t even think straight.

And fuck did he feel good snug inside you. You just whimpered in response, staring up into his pretty blue eyes. “More,” You whispered, “I want more.”

He smirked, digging his knees into the furs before he pulled out and pushed back into you. He set a hard and fast pace that made your head spin with pleasure. He was just as passionate as you expected him to be, his kisses were messy and his grip on your body was tight. He growled and moaned against your mouth as he sped up into you.

You were a moaning mess under him. Your legs locked around his waist as he pounded into you, “You feel so good,” He said, “Look at you, all wet and open for me.” He slowed down for just a moment, looking down to where his cock disappeared into you each time he thrust it. “Is this what you wanted? Hmm?” He asked, slow fucking you until you felt a tear escape your eye.

Fuck, he was keeping you right on that edge. It drove you mad.

“Tell me, sweetheart.” He kissed along your jaw, nibbling on your skin. “When you walked all the way here tonight, wearing basically nothing as you knocked on my door in the middle of the night,” He chuckled, “Is this what you wanted? To be full of my cock?”

You nodded, more tears falling down. It was so good, almost overwhelming. His words, his deep voice, the heated look in his eyes as he fucked you slowly, his weight on top of you, his warmth…

“Yes,” You whispered, “It’s all I wanted.”

Bucky sped up again, taking you by surprise and you couldn’t help the sinful moans that escaped your lips. He released your throat and placed his hand on your abdomen instead, pressing down on your front so he can feel himself inside you with each thrust. “Well there you go,” He said, as if taunting you, “Here I am. Deep inside you.” He stared into your eyes while he sped up into you again. “Just how you wanted.”

You whimpered desperately as he fucked you deeper. You felt your walls clenching around him. You felt the familiar feeling, the pressure down there just waiting… waiting to explode. Your back arched off the furs as he brought you right to the edge again before slowing down. It was brutal.

You gasped in shock, and the now ruined orgasm. Bucky smirked. “That’s punishment,” He said, “For talking to other men right in front of me.”

You frowned, “You’re cruel.”

Bucky kissed you one more time before he flipped you around and pulled you onto your knees and pushed into you again from behind. You moaned out loud, not expecting that but welcoming the feeling of being full again.

You laid your cheek down on the furs, the softness of them a stark contrast to how rough Bucky was being, handling your body like you were just a toy. It made you smile in pure bliss as he gripped your hips and slammed in and out of you incessantly, sighing and groaning in the process.

More tears escaped your eyes as the pleasure became too much to handle. You felt the pressure at your core forming again as Bucky pounded into you mercilessly, fucking you like an animal. Bending and contorting your body however he liked. Pressing your head down as he sped up into you until you came, crying out loud and clenching around him so hard it took him everything not to finish inside you.

He quickly pulled out and came all over your lower back and thighs. He took a moment to admire all the marks he’d left on your skin before pulling you into his arms as he laid down beside you.

You placed your ear right above his heart, listening to it gradually calm down like yours did. Only then did you have enough energy to keep your eyes open and admire the ink on his skin. You traced the closest one with a finger.

“A dragon?” You asked.

Bucky chuckled softly. “I like to think they might have been real at some point.”

You pulled away, holding yourself up using your elbow. You looked down at Bucky and said, “Of course they were. They were magical beings, they got along well with witches and warlocks in fact.”

Bucky looked pleasantly surprised. “You are so full of secrets.” He said, lifting a finger up to your face and gently traced the shape of your mouth. “Tell me more,” He pulled you back into his arms, nuzzling your neck and making you laugh, “What happened to the dragons?”

—

Sleeping in each other’s beds became part of the routine.

Some nights he would come over after the village had gone dark and quiet. Other nights you’d go over to his place and stay till early morning.

Nobody knew about you and Bucky, except for Steve and Sam who couldn’t stop grinning like mischievous devils each time they ran into you.

Days passed this way. The weather got colder, and you kept the village in perfect shape. The rivers kept flowing even though they should be frozen. The lake as well. The crops stayed healthy. As did the cattle.

Your magic had created an invisible dome over the entirety of the village. A vast dome that only you could see.

The people were safe from the intense cold and they were warm, fed, and happy.

But doing all that always made you extremely tired. Usually you’d hide it well behind faint smiles and blame it on it being a long day. But even at night you had to use your magic to keep the dome intact. And although you did your best to hide it, sometimes your weariness would show.

Like the one time when Bucky caught you by the lakeside late at night.

You were sitting on the jetty, looking down at the dark water. The moonlight made the surface shine, and just beyond the lake, right where the dome ended, you could see the harsh winds of the blizzard that you were currently keeping away from Bucky’s people. But from within the dome, no one could even hear it.

And just when you thought of Bucky, you heard him walking on the jetty and on his way to you.

“I looked for you everywhere.” He said, sitting down next to you on the edge. “Are you alright? You never come here this late.” He sounded genuinely concerned.

You smiled at him, his pretty face glowing under the moonlight. Then you pointed at the blizzard, and Bucky swore under his breath when he saw what was happening beyond the dome, “I came to make sure everything was safe.” You said. “I had to draw some of the runes again.” Then you added, “Everything’s fine, don’t worry.”

Bucky loosened the furs around his shoulders and opened his arms for you to snuggle up to him.

You gave him a smirk as you slowly scooted closer to him, “I can keep myself warm, remember?”

“Yeah, but there’s nothing quite like body heat.” He teased, wrapping his arms and the furs around you, holding you close to him. He leaned down and kissed your cheek softly then said, “You seem tired. I didn’t realise magic would take such a toll on you.” He sounded a little embarrassed.

“Hey,” You placed a gentle hand on his rough cheek. “This is how it is. Magic has a cost, it feeds on my energy and that’s just how it works. I should be okay after a few hours of sleep.” You smiled up at him. “Can I ask about the arm?”

He smiled, tapped you on the nose with his metal finger and said, “Bravery has a cost, my lady.” You laughed, and he eventually told you the story. And by the time he was done, he noticed you were just about to fall asleep. “Hey, come on. Let’s go to bed.”

You let him help you stand up and said, “I’m tired tonight, maybe–,”

He cut you off. “That’s not what I meant.” He pulled you closer and kissed you gently, “I won’t do anything, I just want you in bed with me. You’re doing so much for us, let me take care of you and do what I can.” He added, pressing another kiss on your lips, “Please.”

You smiled and gave in.

And turns out, sleeping in his bed, in his arms was enough to recharge you.

—

One day, a messenger came with urgent news for Bucky.

A little far from this village was another one, and the news said that their Chief had died leaving behind no one to care for the people. Since Bucky was the closest, they were begging him to help them last this icy winter.

Bucky held a meeting with his inner circle – his friends, and now you as well. Everyone gathered near the fire in the middle of Bucky’s home. Outside, the weather was getting colder. Your magic kept everyone here comfortable but those people who had asked for help… they wouldn’t last long.

“We can’t help them.” Bucky said, surprising everyone in the room.

Tony, the one who created weapons for every warrior in the village and also part of Bucky’s inner circle, spoke up first, “What do you mean here, Chief? Those people will die.”

Steve nodded, agreeing, “There are children, cold and starving. We can’t leave them.”

“Think about it,” Sam said, “We could have more people in our army to fight for us, with us.”

Bucky stopped his slow pacing, then turned to all of you. “How are we going to care for these people? I mean, I guess we’ll have enough food for everyone but what about shelter?”

Peter, Tony’s apprentice, spoke up this time, “We have enough material to build houses. I mean, we could always pause on the boats for now and use those materials for houses. You’ll have to go bring the people over anyway, and by the time you’ll be back I suppose we could have houses ready by then.” He looked over to Tony for approval. The latter nodded in agreement.

“That will cost too much.” Bucky said. Then sighed. “I have to care for the people here.”

You spoke up this time, “I could help.” You said. “I have more gold than I could ever use. And I could help with the building, and–,”

Bucky cut you off gently, “No, I cannot ask you for all that. You’re already helping us, and this wasn’t part of our arrangement.” He paused for a moment, only the crackling logs filled the silence, “Besides, I’ve seen what using magic constantly does to you.”

You rolled your eyes, “That’s just how it works,” You repeated. “It’s like when you complain about being tired after a whole day of training. Doesn’t mean you won’t ever train again.” You reasoned. “And as for our arrangement, I agreed to help. So let me.”

Bucky sighed again, walking over to you as if the rest of the people in the room didn’t exist. Honestly, the moment you stared into his clear blue eyes, it didn’t matter who else was in the room.

“It’ll wear you out.” He said softly, almost in a whisper.

You gave him a faint smile, “Guess you’ll just have to take better care of me then.”

He was about to reach out and cup your face in his hands but then Steve, Sam, and Tony all cleared their throats to get your attention back on the current issue. You avoided all their eyes awkwardly while Bucky smirked shamelessly. Peter just seemed confused.

“Fine,” Bucky said. “We’ll bring the people. We’ll take the boats.” He announced. “We leave today itself.” Then he proceeded to assign the work of building additional houses over to Tony and Peter. Sam and Steve, along with other warriors, were going with Bucky.

Then the men left, Tony and Peter went to gather people to help them start building immediately and Sam and Steve went to get the other warriors to prepare for their journey. Once they were out of the house, Bucky pulled you close.

“That was generous of you.” He said, nuzzling your neck and kissing it. “I’ll be gone for two weeks at least, you know?” He said. “I’ll miss you.” His lips brushed along your neck, stopping at the corner of your mouth, “I’ll miss this.” His arms tightened around you, making you gasp.

“I’ll miss you too,” You said, pulling away to look at him. “The sea will be rough,” You said, “Take this.” You took the crystal necklace off of your neck and put it around his, hiding it under the layers he wore. “That should keep you safe.” Then you looked around and said, “You should start packing your things. My magic won’t work given the distance so you’ll need more furs to keep you warm.”

He looked at you with soft eyes. “Usually no one fusses over me like this.” He said, “I like it. I like it a lot.”

You smiled and gave him a quick kiss. “Now hurry up. Those people need you.”

“Hmm,” He leaned down for a kiss again. “If anyone touches you while I’m gone I will behead them.” He said, half-joking. “One more thing, I want you to stay here while I’m gone.” He said, referring to his house. “Sleep in my bed every night. Oh and think of me. Miss me. A lot.”

You laughed. “Understood, Chief.”

—

You went to see Bucky off when he left later that evening. He looked like a King and his armada, setting off for battle.

He was barely out of your sight and you missed him already. You whispered a prayer to the strong winter winds, telling them to keep him safe until he comes back.

—

For the entirety of the two weeks which followed, you worked harder than ever. The dome, the crops, the cattle, the rivers and lake, and now the construction. Your magic fortified the wood used for the new houses, all the gold you had accumulated over the years helped the village immensely.

The people were so grateful. And you did your best to keep their spirits up while their Chief was gone.

It made you feel all warm inside whenever people would gush about how incredible of a leader Bucky was. You wondered if he knew his people loved him so much. Then, almost always, quickly followed by that warm fuzzy feeling was intense worry.

You never had anyone to worry about this much. So this was new for you.

By the end of the second week, each morning you’d wake up and go by the beach to see if you could see the ships coming. They didn’t.

You slept in his bed like he wanted you to. And that just made things worse. Because now not only did you worry about him, but you missed him like a mad woman. His scent was all over the bed and the covers.

But then one morning, as you went to the beach to check, you saw them. The ships, tiny little dots near the horizon. They were coming back. He was coming back.

Great timing in fact because the houses were just done building as well. And the crops had just been harvested.

Some hours later, the ships docked. And the new people had arrived, with their entire lives packed into trunks. While everyone showed the new ones to their houses, you looked for Bucky. You couldn’t even hide the smile on your face as you spotted him, running to him.

Bucky smiled as you ran into his open arms, hugging him tightly. You didn’t see the approving smiles on the faces of people around you, all you cared about was that Bucky was here, safely.

“Hello to you too, sweetheart,” He whispered, kissing your forehead. “I’ve missed you.”

You pulled away to look up at him. “You’re back.” You whispered, delighted.

He cupped your face and leaned down to press his forehead against yours, sighing. “I wish I could take you to bed and show you how much I missed you, but…”

“Later,” You finished his sentence. “There’s a lot of work to be done right now.”

He nodded. Then you felt something moving near your ankles, getting tangled up in your flowy cloak. You looked down and saw a small ball of white fur. Bucky chuckled as you bent down to pick it up.

“The mother and the rest of the litter didn’t survive the cold,” He said, “But I found this little guy as we were evacuating the village. He was hiding under a pile of hay, all hungry and trembling. And I thought, who else would take better care of him than a certain generous witch I know?” He explained, a little flustered, ”So I brought him along. For you.”

You looked at the fluffy, white wolf pup in your hands. You already loved him with all your heart. Then you looked up at Bucky again, “Thank you. I love him.” You said, kissing him on the cheek, “And thank you for not leaving him behind.”

He smiled, “Oh well,” He looked around to see his people helping their new guests get off the boats, offering to carry their luggage for them. He looked beyond proud. “What’s one more addition to our village?” He shrugged, smiling at you.

–

It took some hours, but by nightfall everyone had a bed to sleep in and roof over their heads. Bucky was so pleased he insisted they celebrated this feat. Plus he wanted the new members to feel welcomed and comfortable so he held a feast.

Food and ale makes everyone feel at home, he said.

So the feast was held. The village centre quickly became a vibrant, bustling scene. And the music was the best part. You had travelled to so many places but you had never heard such rich music and singing.

As you walked around, enjoying the atmosphere, everyone thanked you for your help. Usually by this time well into winter, food was always scarce. But with you and your magic here, everyone was happy and their bellies were full.

You caught Bucky’s stare from across the crowds of people a lot of times. His heated stare that held promises which made your face feel all hot and made your body tingle. But he was busy catching up with his people right now, he made sure to speak with each and everyone of the new members of his village, he spoke with the kids and promised them that they would be restarting training soon. He even held some of the babies that had been born while he was away.

And you watched him with fondness. Watched how he smiled, watched how he let the kids mess with and admire his metal arm, watched how gentle and kind he could be, as well as how stern and assertive.

And then he caught you staring. He smirked at you while you pretended that your entire being didn’t come alive under his attention. You tried to hide the way you clenched your thighs together as he began walking over to you, finally.

The music rose to a crescendo as he made his way to you. Tall, strong, with a confident and slightly arrogant gait. He stopped when he was right in front of you, the lit torches made his skin look golden, and his eyes… oh his eyes.

His metal head reached out to touch your face, slowly caressing your warm cheek. “Did you get a chance to eat?” He asked.

You nodded, lost in his eyes. You didn’t even remember what you ate, if he asked you you wouldn’t know.

“Good. Then let’s go.” There was enough raw desire in his voice that it made you move immediately.

As you walked you asked, “Won’t they notice you’re gone?” You referred to the ongoing festivities.

Bucky smirked as he took your hand in his, the two of you making your way through the dark, to his place. “Judging by the way you threw yourself into my arms earlier, I think they expected us both to disappear at some point.”

After the short walk, you could still hear the music from the feast even after making your way into Bucky’s home. You could hear some vocalising, and it sounded… magical. Raw. Intense. Much like the look in Bucky’s eyes.

“I see you did sleep here.” He noted, appreciating that you did as he’d asked.

You took your cloak off near the fire and then followed Bucky into the sleeping area. “It was the closest I could get to you while you were gone.” You whispered, taking the layers of fur off of him. You carefully placed it down and began undoing his tunic. “Your bed smells like you.” You said, “Some nights I couldn’t sleep until I made myself come while pretending it was your hand touching me.”

A sound resembling a growl left his mouth as he grabbed both of your wrists in one hand, ceasing your movement. “Show me.” He said, low and deep, “Show me what I missed.”

A sly smirk formed on your lips, “Sure you don’t want to do it yourself?”

He shook his head. “I want to see.”

You turned and gave him your back, “Undress me then.” You expected him to undo the laces and buttons. But no. You felt something cold against the nape of your neck, and then the sound of fabric being ripped filled the room.

You gasped in pleasant surprise. He’d torn your dress off instead. With the dagger. You let the ruined dress fall to the ground and faced him again, naked because you hadn’t been wearing any undergarments, “That was one of my favourites.” You said, looking into his lust-drunk, hooded eyes.

“I don’t care.” He answered, truthfully. Stepping closer he raised the dagger up under your chin, pressing it gently against your skin. “If it were up to me, I’d keep you naked in this bed at all times.”

You giggled.

“Hurry up,” He said, “Show me.” His voice was a mere whisper.

You could still hear the music and the singing in the background as you held his stare and laid down on his soft bed, on your back. He stood at the end of the bed looking down at you like an old god looking at a sacrifice. With hunger in his eyes like you’d never seen before.

He watched as if in trance, as you bent your knees and spread your legs. His breaths got deeper as he watched how wet you were, your finger slowly sliding up and down your slit. He inched just a little closer as you began gasping and whimpering, your finger slipping in and out of you.

Your other hand toyed with your nipple, twisting and tugging. You held his dark stare as you moaned, back arching off the bed, the slightly chilly air hit your bare chest and caused your nipples to erect even further.

“Oh gods…” Bucky whispered, watching as you put on a show. Watching as you whined in pleasure as the pace at which your fingers effortlessly slipped in and out of you increased. You looked down and saw the bulge in his pants. He was barely holding back.

The way he watched you, the feeling of anticipation knowing he would fill you up soon, all of it made your heart race. Outside, the music rose to a crescendo again and you moaned louder, fingering yourself faster, the palm of your hands rubbing against your sensitive clit over and over again as your middle finger slipped in and out of you.

You gasped, “Bucky…” You moaned quietly under your breath, imagining it was his fingers that were touching you instead of your own. “I need you…” you mumbled in the haze that you were in, “Please… I need you.”

He wasted no time in grabbing you by the thighs and dragging you to the edge of the bed as he knelt to the ground. He placed your legs over his shoulders and leaned down to kiss your belly. He was rock hard, barely able to think straight. But fuck he needed to hear you moan as you came.

“I fucking missed you,” He mumbled as he kissed around where your shaky fingers were buried in your wet cunt. “Let me taste you.” He whispered before gently slipping your fingers out of your hole and into his mouth. He sucked on them like they’d just been dipped in the sweetest honey.

“Oh fuck…” You moaned, looking at him. The great Chief, kneeling in between your legs, sucking your taste off your fingers… it was heady. “Please,” You murmured again when you noticed that he was teasing you, keeping you waiting on purpose.

He let go of your fingers, smirking as he looked up at you. “I’ve been wanting to taste you.” He whispered, his warm breath making you squirm. Chuckling at your restlessness, he parted your folds and buried his mouth in between them, eating you out like he was a starving man and moaning at your taste.

Relentlessly, passionately. His warm mouth wrapped around your clit and sucked on it occasionally. His tongue teased your entrance as he took his time to feast in between your legs.

Your fingers slid into his hair, it had gotten slightly longer you realised as you grabbed a fistful of it, tugging on it gently as his mouth teased you.

“So this is what you did, huh? While I was away, rescuing people and fighting rough seas…” His tongue slowly circled around your clit and he earned more and more moans out of you. “You were here, touching yourself.”

Your legs trembled as he locked his arms around your thighs and pushed your core further into his mouth and made you cry out of pleasure. You whined. “Please, Bucky…”

He chuckled, darkly. “No.” He pulled away, licking his lips. “Not so easily.”

He stood up, got rid of all his clothes before climbing into bed with you. His glorious, inked, naked body hovered above yours as he looked down at you with nothing but fondness and desire in his eyes. You looked down, whimpering at the sight of him stroking his hard cock, it was leaking already.

Bucky looked down at you and smiled before leaning in for a kiss again. He nibbled along your skin, from your mouth to your neck, “Are you ready for me, sweetheart?”

You cried out, “Yes! Please, Buck–,”

He cut you off by sliding into you, filling you up. You gasped as your walls welcomed him perfectly and he growled under his breath as he filled you up entirely. “Look at me,” He said. When you did, he smiled and laced your fingers together and pinned both your hands above your head as he sped up into you. “Fuck,” He swore, “You feel like you were made for me.”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head once he started rocking in and out of you with your legs locked behind his back. He leaned in and kissed your lips again, groaning and panting against your lips as he fucked you hard and fast.

The music outside felt like it echoed inside your head. It made your heart race, like a soundtrack to this ethereal union.

“Tell me you belong to me,” He whispered, lips brushing against yours as his cock stroked your inner walls perfectly. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m… I’m yours,” You said, breathlessly.

“That’s right,” He breathed against your mouth. “All fucking mine.” He repeated, kissing along your skin and moaning into your ear, “Fuck, you feel so good.” He said as he sped up again, fucking you nice and deep to show you that you belong to him. “Come for me,” He said, knowing he wouldn’t last too long, “Come on sweetheart, come for me.”

You cried out as you did, coming undone as he kept pounding into you until he finished inside you. Bucky nuzzled your neck, kissing your skin as he caught his breath. You wrapped your arms around him lazily, feeling his heart racing just as fast as yours was.

He sighed in bliss as he finally laid down beside you, taking you with him so more than half of your body was on top of his. He kissed the top of your head and whispered, “I missed you like a madman.”

You smiled, kissing his damp skin as you replied, “I did too. It felt… empty without you.” You lifted your head up to look at him. “Your hair is longer.” You pointed out.

Bucky chuckled, “You like it?”

You nodded, “It suits you.”

He smiled, caressing your cheek again. “I like you in my bed.” He murmured.

You smirked, lifting yourself up to straddle him properly. You grabbed his semi hard cock and slid it inside you again, gasping as it went in easily. Bucky groaned in pleasure, his hands holding you by the waist, ready to lift you up and down his cock.

“I really like me in your bed too.” You said, and began riding him until you both came once more.

—

And so, winter passed by.

You kept everyone safe and warm. Your bond with Bucky was not a secret anymore given you were always seen together. Judging by the smiles on people’s faces when they saw the two of you together, you’d say they were more than happy for Bucky.

You spent more time in Bucky’s house than the one you were assigned when you first got here that Bucky suggested you move in, and let someone else have the other home.

“I like having you in my home.” He said one night as he pulled your worn out, bare body into his. He kissed your shoulder, and made sure you were properly warm under the soft furs, in his bed. “Come live with me.”

So you moved in.

Your days started and ended with Bucky. With his soft, loving, often demanding touch. His merciless and passionate kisses. And you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

He was a stern, just, and caring chief to the rest of the village but only you saw the softer side of him.

The way some evenings he would lay his head in your lap and grumble until you played with his hair until he fell asleep.

Or how much he loved it when you braided his hair, he’d wear it proudly.

Or how he always gave you the best bites of food when you dined together.

The way he would always make sure you had enough fur and blankets on your side of the bed at night.

Or how he’d always accompany you when you took your little wolf for walks in the woods.

Or how he’d often tempt you into going for midnight swims with him at the lake. How he’d kiss you under the moonlight, smiling like a lovesick young boy instead of the great chief he was.

During those moments, you often wanted to freeze time and just stay with him forever.

Forever… but that wasn’t possible, was it?

—

The weather, naturally, didn’t stay freezing cold. It got warmer, and warmer as winter faded into a gentle, barely there spring.

Your little wolf grew, and kept growing. Time, you realised, moved and with it came time to say goodbye.

Winter was nearly over. Everyone knew, everyone could see it. But nobody said anything. You were still greeted with the same grateful smiles and infinite gifts whenever you stepped out. Steve and Sam never mentioned it, they kept filling your days with stories of their youth and more laughter.

Bucky, it seemed, had forgotten all about what the end of winter meant.

And it hurt you more than you thought it would when it came time to confront him about it. It took you two days to build the courage to break both of your hearts. You didn’t want to leave, but you had to, didn’t you?

He was home early that evening, in a good mood too. As soon as you opened your mouth to say something though, he announced, “I’m going for a swim, come with me?”

You shook your head. “I don’t feel like it. You go ahead.”

He smiled, kissed your forehead and left. The sunset as soon as he was out of the door. He’d been going on a lot of swims lately, which again indicated that the weather was getting warmer.

You waited for him to get back. Your heart breaking in the meantime.

–

“We need to, um, talk.” You said, once he’d put on clean, dry clothes again. You watched as he dried his hair with a piece of fabric as he turned to face you.

The buttons of his tunic undone with the tattoos on his chest peeking through, his hair was a damp mess, his blue eyes shining. He was so beautiful. So beautiful it hurt.

“What about, sweetheart?” He tossed the fabric aside and placed his hands on either side of your waist. “Everything okay?”

You looked up at him. Didn’t he notice? Couldn’t he see you were wearing the same cloak you wore the day he met you? Couldn’t see you were ready to leave? You spoke with tears in your eyes, “Winter is nearly over, Bucky.” You whispered in a shaky voice.

Silence. Only the few nearby torches. And the crickets outside.

Bucky clenched and unclenched his jaw. You could see it through the stubble on his cheeks. “What do you mean?”

He knew what you meant. You could tell. He was just giving you a chance to rectify what you said. But you didn’t. Instead you said, “Winter is over, it’s time for me to go.” The tears fell. Hot and burning, much like the tension between the two of you even after all these months.

Bucky was quiet, then he let out a humourless chuckle. “What are you saying? You want to leave me?”

You sighed as he made this difficult for both of you. “You know what I mean. We had a deal, remember?” You swallowed a sob. “We–,”

“I swear to gods,” He cut you off, pulling you closer and growling, “Do not fucking test me right now.”

More tears fell down your face. “Bucky…” You whispered. “I can’t stay here. You know that. It’s what I do, I help people. It’s what I’m meant to do with this…” You sighed, “This magic.”

“Who said that?” He argued. “Who said you couldn’t choose what made you happy? Who said you had to keep wandering? Huh?” He leaned closer, the tip of his nose touching yours, “Who said you can’t stop once you found a home? A real one?” He gently kissed the corner of your mouth. “You have a home here, you have me. Stay.”

You breathed in the manly scent of him. Felt the roughness of his stubble against your skin. Felt his body heat. Why couldn’t you stop? Because it scared you. “I can’t.” You mumbled, even as your heart screamed stay, stay, stay.

Bucky pulled away. His face was stone cold. Emotionless. His hands left your waist and clenched into fists as he stared at you. As Chief, he wasn’t used to people disobeying him.

“Fine then,” He spoke with a bitter voice. “You want to leave? Then I’ll follow. And my people will follow me no matter where I go.” He spoke with a confidence that only a true leader can have. “So wherever you go, you’ll find me behind you. And a whole village behind me. Is that what you want?” You could hear the stubbornness in his voice, the determination. The promise.

“You can’t.” You reasoned. “You have a duty here, Bucky. My work here is done, I lifted the dome yesterday and no one even noticed. That just goes to show I’m not needed here. You have a life here,” You said, “Not me.” More tears streamed down your face. Your mind and heart were screaming in contradiction.

Bucky just stared at you, his heart slowly breaking. Then he said, calmly but fiercely, “I have nothing without you. Nothing.” He stepped closer to you again, “You made me feel alive again, you made me feel like I was more than just a chief, like I was a man again. Just a man who is madly in love with the woman of his dreams.” His words made you weak. “You’re… everything. Don’t leave me.” He pleaded, quietly.

You couldn’t help but hide your face in his chest as you sobbed. He cradled your head, kissing the top of it.

“I will send word.” He said, as you sobbed quietly. Your tears drenching his tunic. “People will know where to come find you if they need you.” He reassured you. “Stay with me, be my wife, let’s have children together,” He cupped your face and made you look up at him. His ocean blue eyes staring down loving into yours. “Let’s have a life together.”

You sniffled. “You’re awfully stubborn.” You said.

He smiled, his own eyes tearing up. “And you love me for it.”

You sniffled again. “I do.” You confessed. “I do love you.”

“And I love you.” He leaned in for a gentle kiss. “Stay with me. You have a home here.” He whispered against your lips. “You’ve helped plenty of people all over this world. It’s not selfish if you choose to settle down now and choose your happiness.”

“I’m scared.” You admitted. “I’ve never… I don’t know if I can… I mean, I don’t know if–,”

He cut you off with another loving kiss. “Shh, I’ve got you. We will figure it out. Together.”

You gave him a faint smile through the tears as you nodded. “Together.”

And choosing to stay back with him, for him, ended up being the best decision you’d ever made.

—

Fin.

#viking!bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #marvel au

3K notes · View notes

illyrianbitch · 7 months ago

Text

Of Our Own Devices — Part Six

For @erisweekofficial Day 6: AU

Pairing: Reader x Eris

Summary: Severely wounded after the fall of his father, Eris slips into a deep sleep, only to wake in an alternate world—one where he was the kind brother, the male who made all the 'right' choices.

Warnings: mentions of death, physical fighting, confused Eris

Word Count: 4.6k

Part Five | Part Seven

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Eris woke slowly, the weight of sleep pressing against his mind like a fog. He swore he heard someone say his name, faint and distant, but when he blinked away the residue of slumber, the room around him was empty. He sat up, hand instinctively drifting to his abdomen, where his injury had been. Flashes of the fight flickered in his mind—his fathers face, the clash of metal, his mother's final strike.

There was no sign of any injury. He was healed now. Strangely skinny and paler than usual, but healed.

He looked around, the familiar walls of his quarters greeting him. It was his room—his bed, his furniture—but something was missing. Everything felt stripped down, too clean. Too empty. His room had always been a reflection of him, a collage of things that mattered, memories and symbols of what he held dear. But now… it was bare.

Not even his couch held traces of life, no lingering hairs of his hounds.

They must’ve already moved my things, Eris told himself, a strange tightness settling in his chest. They must’ve moved everything to my father’s quarters. The thought lingered, and he found himself repeating it. How strange. They must be very eager.

Slowly, Eris sat up, the silence around him thick and unnatural. There was no sound, not even the faint stir of wind or the hum of life that usually filled the Forest House. He ignored how foreign his own room felt, how cold, and pulled himself out of bed, his bare feet hitting the floor with a soft thud. He managed to dress himself with the clothes remaining in his closet before he left the confines of his quarters.

The hallways felt more familiar, the same twists and turns of the Forest House that were ingrained in him, walls that he knew like the back of his hand.

Yet, despite how normal it seemed, there was something unsettling about it now. It felt quieter, colder. Less alive. He did his best to ignore it.

Eris attributed his confusion to recent events. It’s just exhaustion, he told himself. Confusion from healing. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep, how long his body needed to recover from the battle, from his father’s fall. It was expected for things to feel a little off. He was, after all, the new High Lord. His plan had been successful. Perhaps it was the weight of that new title, the surge of power, that made everything feel so alien.

But Eris didn't feel any power. In fact, he felt weaker. As if something was missing, something important. It confused him, unnerved him, as he wandered through the halls of his home.

There should be more people. The fall of his father should’ve left chaos in its wake—advisors, soldiers, someone should have been there, waiting for him to awaken, waiting for their new High Lord to take his place.

But the halls were silent. Lifeless.

Eris froze mid-step. He frowned to himself, feeling a deep discomfort settling in his bones. Slowly, he took a few steps back and glanced over his shoulder.

The door to his right was slightly ajar, just enough for a thin beam of dim light to spill into the hallway. His instincts screamed at him to move forward. He hesitated, blinking, and then reached out, pushing the door open just a fraction more.

Inside, the room was bathed in the same cold light that seemed to haunt the entire hall. A figure sat on the edge of the bed, back turned to him, hunched over like they were trying to make themselves small. Their hair, a dull blonde, hung limp, the ends unevenly chopped short. The person’s posture was frail, broken. But Eris’s sharp senses picked up something that made his breath catch in his throat—a scent he knew. A scent that tugged at memories of hatred and understanding all at once.

“Morrigan?”

The figure flinched, shoulders trembling, but didn’t turn. Eris stepped into the room, his heart pounding as he slowly pieced together what he was seeing. The hair was dull, yes, but unmistakable. He knew her. He was certain.

“Morrigan," he said again, a tinge of frustration tainting his tone. "Why are you here?”

She didn’t respond. Her body barely moved, as though she was too afraid to even breathe.

"Mor."

Finally, she turned her head, just enough for him to catch a glimpse of her face—pale, hollow, and so different from the annoyingly outspoken, frustratingly arrogant female he knew. Her eyes darted to the floor, avoiding his gaze as though she couldn't bear to meet it.

“Eris,” she whispered, the words so soft they almost didn’t reach him. “You need to leave.”

“What?” His voice was growing louder now, confusion bleeding into anger. He took a moment to analyze her, to observe her with a critical gaze. Her skin was marked, marred by bruises and scars.

“What happened? Did I—” He faltered, his breath catching. “Did I do this to you?”

It wasn't possible. Eris would never have touched her. He had never laid a finger on her, didn't care enough to. Words were enough of a weapon when it came to the loud-mouthed female. But this world was familiar, cold, and he wasn't sure what he believed, who he was here.

Morrigan shook her head, but her eyes were full of something darker, more resigned. “He’s coming. You need to leave.”

“Who’s coming?” Eris took a step forward. “Morrigan, tell me what is going on.”

"Please." She gave him a long, haunted look. “You should have left me to die, Eris. You can’t help me anymore.”

Before he could register her words, the door creaked open again and Eris turned sharply. He recognized the new presence instantly, watched with furrowed brows as one of his younger brothers walked in. Caius was larger, more muscular than Eris remembered, and there was a gleam in his eyes that was nothing short of mad. It wasn't just cruelty. It was something darker, something even more sinister.

“Well, well,” Caius sneered, stepping into the room. His gaze slid toward Morrigan, a smirk curling his lips. “Looks like you’ve finally grown a spine, brother. Decided you wanted her after all?”

Eris stiffened, straightening himself as he held his brother's gaze. He walked around Eris, approached Morrigan in a few, long strides. Eris could see her visibly shrink back, watched as her face paled with fear. The sight in itself was terrifying—the image of this female, who feared not even death, now trembling before his brother. It was wrong, so wrong, and made Eris more uneasy than the cold, lifeless walls.

"Step away from her," Eris said, "Now."

His brother laughed, a sharp, mocking sound that echoed in the room. "Always the protector, always so noble."

While Eris had a complicated relationship with his brothers, they all respected him. Listened to him. He had raised them, taught them, kept them in line so their father wouldn’t have to. They had never spoken to him with this kind of defiance. They never would.

Eris clenched his jaw, eyes flashing as he took a step forward, attempting to place himself between his brother and Morrigan.

"You’re out of line," Eris growled, his voice dropping to a lethal quiet. "Move."

For a brief moment, something flickered in Caius’s eyes—hesitation, perhaps, or uncertainty. But it was gone just as quickly, replaced by that same mocking smile. His brother didn’t care about the warning; he was testing him. Caius took another step toward Morrigan, his hand stretching out as if to touch her. Morrigan flinched, though her wide, desperate eyes remained fixed on Eris, pleading silently.

“What are you going to do, brother?” Caius’s tone dripped with disdain. “Finally act like a male? Finally take what’s yours?”

Before Caius could move any closer, Eris’s hand shot out, grabbing his brother by the arm and yanking him back with a force that startled them both. Surprise flared in Caius’s eyes, but Eris didn’t give him a chance to recover. His grip tightened, and in a swift, violent motion, he shoved Caius away from Morrigan, slamming him against the wall with a fury that belonged to an eldest brother, to a rightful heir. The crack of Caius’s back hitting stone was the only sound as the room seemed to hold its breath.

"You forget your place," Eris growled, his grip tightening. His brother winced, the smirk faltering. "And I won’t remind you again."

With a grunt, Caius tried to wrench his arm free, but Eris’s grip was unyielding. The younger male’s eyes flickered with something new—fear. Real fear.

Eris shoved him again, watching as Caius staggered back, shock flashing across his features. He wasn’t used to being challenged, certainly not by Eris. When he made a move to retaliate, Eris advanced once more, this time with more force, shoving him until he crashed against the wall with a heavy thud.

Caius had always been more temperamental, more prone to lashing out. Eris had learned early on that the only way to keep him in line was to meet his aggression with equal force, to show his brother that he could be beaten. That he was outmatched. It was always for his own good. If Eris didn’t correct him, Beron would. And he would be a lot less gentle.

"You show me some respect," Eris spat, stepping back as his brother slumped to the floor, dazed. He turned to Morrigan.

She was staring at him, wide-eyed, stiff.

“Will you be alright?” Eris asked, his voice softer now, the edge of fury fading into something like concern. He’d never spoken to Morrigan in such a way, had never imagined himself asking her anything that hinted at care. Yet here he was. It made him uncomfortable.

That alone was enough to confirm this wasn’t real. That it was a dream—despite the throbbing in his knuckles telling him otherwise.

Morrigan only nodded.

“Alright,” he said, more to himself than to her. With one last glance at his brother, who lay slumped and breathing heavily, Eris turned and walked out of the room, leaving Caius on the floor and Morrigan standing frozen near the bed.

He needed answers. And he needed them now.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

The more Eris thought about it, the more the halls of the Forest House felt different, unfamiliar. The once gleaming floors were dulled, the banners sagging as if weighed down by years of neglect. Figures passed him, and where there should have been respect, there was now disregard—intentional and palpable. Bodies brushed against him with force—someone’s elbow grazed his side, a boot came down hard on his own, followed by a mocking laugh that echoed behind.

"Thought you'd be taller," one courtier muttered as he shoved past.

Another voice cut through the air, louder, full of sneering confidence. "And they say eldest is to be the rightful heir?" A chuckle. "Pathetic."

Eris said nothing, his gaze fixed forward as the crowd parted only to provoke. The warmth beneath his skin, the heat that was always there, simmered just out of sight. He pushed it down, keeping his pace steady, even though each shove pushed against the restraint he'd built over years.

The familiar door to his father’s office appeared. It was open, an unusual sight in itself. His steps slowed as he approached, his brow drawing tight. Inside, slouched behind the large desk, was Beron Vanserra.

Eris stopped.

That wasn't possible.

Beron was dead. He’d watched him fall, had seen the life drain from his father’s eyes as his mother plunged the blade deeper into his back. He’d stared into the soulless face of his father as his body collapsed lifelessly to the ground.

But there he was.

And yet, Beron looked nothing like the man Eris remembered. No, he looked worse than disheveled—he looked unhinged. The sinister gleam in his eyes had intensified, a wild, deranged look that made Eris pause. His father’s movements were sharp, erratic, like he’d lost any grip on control. The man murmured frantically to his advisor, Darius, the conversation laced with dark, twisted energy. This wasn’t the calculated cruelty Eris remembered; it was something more dangerous, something untethered. Even from the doorway, Eris could feel it—a tangible threat, his father teetering on the edge of madness.

He hunched over papers, speaking in low, frantic murmurs. It was hard for Eris to reconcile the image before him with the male he'd known— the male he had killed. Beron’s hands shook as he scrawled something, his voice barely audible.

“They’re closing in,” Beron muttered, eyes darting across the room though there was no one but his advisor present. “They're turning against us.”

Eris stood frozen in the doorway, his heart tightening at the names his father began to list—alliances, powerful connections Beron claimed were unraveling. But Eris had secured those ties himself. He knew they were strong, unbreakable. Every alliance, every bond he had forged was solid. He had ensured it.

But his father’s disjointed ramblings painted a different picture.

Something else gnawed at the edges of Eris's awareness. Darius—the way he moved, the flicker in his expression when Beron's back was turned—it all reeked of suspicion. There was a wariness in his advisor’s manner, a subtle but calculated hesitation in the way he responded to Beron's frantic mutterings, as if he were biding his time, waiting for the right moment to act.

He was a traitor, Eris concluded. He wondered how his father hadn't noticed.

A nagging voice in the back of Eris’s mind urged him to leave, to run and find you. But he stayed, forcing himself to assess the scene before making any move. Whatever was happening here, he needed to understand it first. Deep in his gut, he had a feeling that Darius would lead him to some answers.

So he waited.

And waited.

Until Darius finally left the room.

For a fleeting moment, Eris was grateful that this strange version of himself, in this twisted place, could blend in without notice. It grated on him more than he cared to admit, but even he could acknowledge that it was a blessing under these circumstances.

He had to remind himself over and over that this wasn’t real. Couldn’t be. Because in reality, he had defeated his father. He had fought, been wounded, and his mother had delivered the final, fatal blow. Their plan—his centuries-long scheme—had worked. Beron was dead.

So, no, this wasn’t real.

It couldn't be.

It was just some hallucination brought on by his injuries. Yet the vividness of it all was disorienting. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this strange world had a purpose, a meaning, something that he needed to understand.

Gods, Eris hated deeper meanings, hated the idea of hidden lessons and cryptic truths. Which was funny, considering that’s exactly what he was—someone who required time, patience, and layers to be understood. The irony wasn’t lost on him.

Darius finally reached an exit, pushing through heavy doors that led outside. Eris followed.

He watched as Darius mounted a horse, the male glancing around, taking a moment to ensure no one was following. The sky above was oppressive, gray, and bleak. Even the colors of Autumn—once vibrant and alive—seemed muted, as if drained of life itself.

Eris waited, stayed hidden until Darius's figure was far enough away, until the rhythmic clatter of hooves gradually faded. Only then did Eris step into the open. He took a deep breath, letting the crisp, stale air fill his lungs, and winnowed, the world bending around him as he tracked Darius's path through the shifting air.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

He found himself at a residence, a few miles out from the heart of Autumn, an hour on horse-back from the Forest House.

It was a home of surprising elegance, far more refined than the modest quarters Darius had occupied in Eris's memories. For a moment, Eris lingered in the distance, nestled among the fallen leaves like a predator concealed in its natural habitat.

Darius glanced around one last time, his eyes scanning for any signs of pursuit, before walking to the front door. It opened as he approached and, for a moment, time seemed to stretch, every detail becoming sharp and vivid.

It was you.

Eris’s gut twisted as he watched you open the door wider, allowing Darius to step inside. The male grasped your face between his hands, his grip tight, eyes glinting with possessive satisfaction. A moment later, he released you, offering a dismissive wave toward the horse outside. A movement that indicated you were to tend to it.

A command.

Eris waited, expecting your usual defiance—the fire he admired so fiercely, the fire that rivaled his own. But you didn’t fight back. You only stood there, nodding in quiet compliance before moving toward the horse with a resigned grace.

Eris almost felt sick.

This world, this twisted reflection of reality, had ensnared you. Eris found himself paralyzed– paralyzed by his situation, by confusion and anger. What had happened to you in this strange, distorted reality?

What had happened to him?

He waited until you were absorbed in tending to the horse, until you had led it to its resting place, before he winnowed, pulling you away into a secluded strip of the forest. The second you were out of sight, you yanked yourself from his grip, your eyes flashing with a fire that made his breath catch.

Eris wasn't quite sure what he expected, what reaction to prepare for.

It certainly wasn't the sharp punch to his jaw that he received.

Before he could even register the pain, you were on him, a whirlwind of strikes and kicks, each one more vicious than the last. It was a relentless assault, far beyond what Eris had ever seen from you. For a brief moment, Eris felt a flicker of pride—impressed at the ferocity, at your precision.

But that pride quickly gave way to frustration as your fist connected with his face again, harder this time. He let out a grunt, finally managing to shove you back, flames licking his hands as he raised them defensively. You staggered, your expression shifting from fury to confusion as you blinked and truly saw him for the first time.

“Eris?”

He almost smiled at the sound of his name on your lips. But he bit it back, focusing instead on catching his breath, trying to piece together the fragmented reality he found himself in.

“Where was that defiance with…” he began, but his words faltered as his gaze fell on your hand. To the ring on your finger. “… your husband?”

You straightened yourself, brushing off the dirt and leaves with a practiced grace. Eris took you in, still breathtakingly beautiful, and for a moment, he felt a surge of relief, the first since he’d woken up in this bewildering place. But the relief was tinged with unease; you were different—colder, stiffer, your demeanor as unyielding as the harsh winter.

“What are you doing here?”

Your voice was sharp, emotionless. It carried the same weight as his fathers, the same madness as his brother.

“Honestly, I don’t know. But—” Eris began.

You cut him off. “But what? This is not your land. Leave.”

Eris clenched his teeth, forcing himself to steady his breath.

“No, Y/n, you don’t understand,” he said, reaching out instinctively to grab your arm. The gesture was absentminded, a reflex born of countless moments spent in your presence. But you yanked away, your eyes glazing over with disgust.

Every muscle in Eris’s body tightened at the sight.

Over the centuries, Eris had seen you look at him with many things, seen you look at him in many ways. There had been anger, fear, resentment, frustration— but never disgust. Not like this. He wasn’t sure he ever saw true hatred either.

“Don’t touch me,” you snapped, those cold eyes narrowing in on him.

A crease formed between Eris’s brows. He thought back to the ball—just a few hours ago in his memory. He scrambled to recall the image of you, one hand in yours, the other on your waist, as he danced with you. You’d told him you didn’t hate him. You’d seemed concerned, understanding.

You'd rushed to his side when he fell.

Those memories didn't match the female before him. The look in your eyes, this version of you, it was void of all the life he loved in you.

Loved.

Your face pinched into a deadly frustration. He could see the anger practically radiating off you in waves. The Y/n he knew was impatient, yes, entertainingly so, but the female before him— it was more than impatience. It was intolerance, unforgiving.

And you weren't unforgiving.

"What is wrong with you?” Eris's voice was quiet, contemplative.

He wasn’t sure if he was genuinely asking you the question or if it had slipped from his lips as a stream of consciousness. This was all wrong. How had he ended up here?

How could he leave?

“With me?” you echoed. “I’m aware you’ve harbored a pathetic crush on me but your title alone does not grant you the right to prowl through the forest like a fire-wreathed pervert.”

Eris blinked. Then he blinked again. "Excuse me?"

Your stare hardened. You casted another glance towards the home, towards the residence that you belonged to. "I will let Darius skin you himself if you don't leave."

Eris cocked his head at you. "Darius will do no such thing."

"And you are so confident?"

"Yes," he said through a sharp breath. "I am."

You let out a deep breath. He watched as your gaze danced over his form, as you took him in as he had done with you a few moments prior.

"You will leave, Eris. You don't belong here."

“No," Eris hummed. "I don’t believe I will."

You raised an eyebrow, a hint of sarcasm in your voice. “Is this you gaining a backbone, then? Standing up now?”

His eyes widened, face falling slack as his mind raced.

Suddenly, the similarity in your words struck him—words so akin to what his brother had said, to what Morrigan had implied. He paused, a chilling realization settling in.

He had often wondered how different his life might have been had he embraced kindness openly. His mother had been kind—strong, yes, but kind above all. Her kindness sometimes led her to act recklessly, driven by love, putting herself in dangerous positions. Eris’s own coldness had started as a means of self-protection, a shield forged to guard both himself and her. Autumn had never embraced kindness; it was twisted and manipulated, seen as a vulnerability to be exploited. The court’s harsh lessons had taught him that kindness could be turned against one, molded into a weapon of control.

Eris knew he wasn't as compassionate as others, understood that his empathy fell short in ways where it excelled for those around him. Lucien was warmer, his mother had a depth of love that Eris could never match. Yet, he had come to terms with himself. He wasn't ashamed of who he had become. Not anymore.

He had adapted to survive, and in doing so, had ensured the survival of others. He’d shielded his mother, manipulated circumstances to protect his brothers, and wielded influence to carve out a place for himself in the world.

Eris’s gaze locked onto you, his voice low and urgent.

“I need your help.”

"No."

“Please,” he implored, the edge of desperation creeping into his voice.

Usually, that would have worked. But not now.

“No," You snarled. "Leave. This is your last warning.”

Eris’s eyes narrowed. "I can make you listen.”

“Then do it,” you challenged. “Why haven’t you?”

He hesitated, his jaw tightening as he ran through his options. “Perhaps I’m being kind.”

You laughed bitterly. “And where has kindness led your family?”

Eris froze. Something cold ran up his spine, something uncomfortable shivering through his skin.

"What does that mean?"

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

The silence around him hung heavy and suffocating.

The graves before him were smaller than he’d expected, though not lacking in elegance.

Each stone was meticulously carved from dark granite, their surfaces polished to a somber sheen. Lucien’s grave was engraved with intricate ivy vines, their tendrils curling around the stone like an embrace, while his mother's was adorned with a design of autumn leaves, their veins detailed in delicate relief.

In the center of the clearing stood a statue of The Mother, her arms outstretched in an eternal gesture of welcome or release. The marble was pristine against the surrounding decay, though the base was cloaked in patches of moss and creeping half-dead ivy, signaling the neglect that had overtaken the once-tended space.

Fallen leaves formed a muted carpet over the ground, their colors ranging from deep russets to golden ambers. Wild grasses and brambles wove through the overgrown paths, and the contrast between the elegant memorials and the wild surroundings told Eris that no one had visited this area in a while— no one had mourned them in person.

Eris crouched beside the graves, his cloak brushing against the cold, smooth stones. His fingers traced the autumn-themed engravings, but the act felt hollow.

It was all wrong.

He needed to return to his own reality, but doubt gnawed at him, bit at his gut like an anxious dog.

Was his reality even real anymore?

Had this been his life all along?

No, he told himself, it wasn't possible.

He could feel the pulse of power now, a flicker of something deep within. He needed to leave, to fight, to find a way to wake up. Lucien was alive, his mother was alive, you were on your knees by his body, and he was a High Lord.

A crunch broke the silence behind him, and Eris turned, his breath catching as he saw you. He rose to his feet slowly, unaware of the tear streaking down his cheek until your eyes tracked it.

A beat of silence.

"You were always too soft," you finally said.

Eris swallowed, his throat tight. "What are you doing here?"

Time after time, you always seemed to find him.

Even in this world, where everything felt twisted and wrong, where your gaze burned with a hate he had never seen before, you still found him. You stared at him now, with disdain instead of concern, with annoyance instead of curiosity. And yet, you still found him.

Here, at the graves of his family, where the autumn air clung to the stones like a silent witness, you stood before him.

You found him.

As if you had read his thoughts, as if your mind had come to the same conclusion, you took a deep, unsteady breath. Your eyes flickered with a sense of vulnerability, barely recognizable to anyone— anyone but Eris.

"I don’t know," you replied. "But I am."

Because, somehow, you always found him.

He stared at you for a moment. "This isn’t right."

Something softened in your features.

You tilted your head slightly. "Then what is?"

Before he could answer, he heard something—his name. Your voice. The sound of it echoed in the air, tugging at him. Your expression shifted, the you before him mirroring his own confusion as you both looked around. The voice—real. Familiar.

He looked up at the sky, then back at you, but before he could speak, your form began to fade, and the world around him erupted into blinding white.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

authors note: eris was cruel at times bc he needed to be!! autumn and beron wouldve chewed him up and spat him out otherwise!!!

as always, thank you for reading <3

eris week/of our own devices tag list 🫶🏻: @i-know-i-can @scarsandallaz @anainkandpaper @ratgirl2020 @nyenye @rcarbo1 @katana180-blog @awkardnerd @hoemadegrace

permanent tag list 🫶🏻:

@rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon

@glam-targaryen @cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen @azrielsbbg

@evergreenlark @marina468 @azriels-human @book-obsessed124 @bubybubsters

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @feyretopia @ninthcircleofprythian @velariscalling @azrielrot

@justyouraveragekleemain @marigold-morelli @mrsjna @anarchiii @alittlelostalittlefound-blog

@melissat1254 @secretsicanthideanymore

@m4tthewmurd0ck @beardburnsupersoldiers @isnotwhatyourethinking @tothestarsandwhateverend @raginghellfire

@angel-graces-world-of-chaos

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mcuamerica · 1 month ago

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Biscuits & Jam | Cassian x Reader

Pairing: Cassian x Fem!Reader

Summary: Dawn Court's best tinker/blacksmith and the Night Court's Lord of Bloodshed work on weapons together... but spending all that time together leads to something more. Requested by @runnergirl234 here.

Warnings: pure fluff, soft Cassian, mentions of battle

The bell above the door to your shop chimed once and you glanced up from the weapon you were boxing. “Hello.” You said, noticing the wings and the leathers on the male. He most certainly is not from the Dawn Court. From his wings alone you know he is Illyrian. And Illyrians don’t travel to the Dawn Court for many reasons. “How can I help you?” You asked, smiling at the warrior.

“You’re not going to step back and cower?” He asked and raised his eyebrows. His gravelly voice does something to your knees, but you stand your ground.

“No… is that a normal occurrence with females for you? Because that sounds like a problem.” You said, your heart seizing when he let out a loud laugh.

“Oh, you’re funny.” He said and sent a breathtaking smile your way. If you didn’t know better, you would think there was a tug on your ribs, towards this male. But… it couldn’t be. “It’s a common occurrence for anyone outside of my home Court.” He said.

His dazzling smile, the stubble along his jaw, the golden flecks in his hazel eyes. You shook your head slightly, taking in his leathers again. “You must be General Cassian.” You said, pushing the box to the side. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. How can I help you?” You asked again, though your heart rate picked up since the first time asking.

“I was tasked with finding the best blacksmith to recreate some weapons.. Thesian directed me to you.” He said and set the bag he was carrying down on one of the work tables. You walked around the counter, noticing how much he towers over you as you looked at the weapons. His body heat radiates towards you. You are a dawn court resident, you’re used to the heat in the summer. In these circumstances, you can’t help but feel a little overwhelmed by it. Why is he so attractive?

“I’m honored that Thesian has such faith in my abilities.” You said and looked at the weapons. Your eyes widened slightly. “Is this Iridam?” You asked. “Where did you find this?”

“These have been in our supply rooms for quite some time. And it so happens they are perfect weapons to killing Attors.” He said. “Is there a way to replicate them? I can provide more of the stone.” He said.

“Metal… it’s metal.” You corrected as you looked at the craftsmanship of the sword. “I can… but… can I ask why you want swords?” You asked.

“Because it’s what we’re trained with for the most part. Why? Do you have a better suggestion?” He asked, but with no condescension in his tone.

“I think a shotel would work better for Attors. Especially if they are flying. Easier to catch on the curve.” You said. “I suppose that’s what I would make for ground soldiers… but I assume you are wanting them for more Illyrians.” You said.

“No… a shotel actually might be better… especially with the… metal. I know it’s more prone to bending anyway.” He said. “How many can you have ready by the end of the week?”

“I’d say about 20, if I finish the orders I have today.” You said. “It’s only me.” You said and shrugged.

“I could help… make it 40?” He asked and you looked up at him.

“Oh… I couldn’t ask you to put your own labor-“

“If it means I get to spend more time with you, I’d very much like if.” He said.

Heat rushed to your neck as you stumbled over your next words. “Oh… okay.” You said and gave him a small smile. “I would like the help… but do you have the metal?” You asked, changing the subject so your heart doesn’t leap out of your chest.

“I’ll go grab it. And… I have a few other ideas for a couple mechanisms. Thesian mentioned you weren’t just a blacksmith. Maybe I can run them by you?” He asked.

“I’ve never really been to war. But I’d be happy to help.” You said and smiled softly.

Cassian came back later in the day when the shop was closed. You had finished all your orders and closed down for the week, knowing it would take most of your time with the order. Plus, if a certain General was going to spend his time with you, you didn’t want any distractions.

“So, how did you get into this business?” He asked.

You looked over to him and gave him a small smile as you took the metal from his hands, careful not to make contact out of fear you may scare him.

“My father was a blacksmith. And believe it or not, he was very happy when I decided to take over the business.” You said. “My mother and him are living their lives out on the coast now, along with my younger brother. Plus, when I was a child, I loved to take things and put them together. It was always a lot of fun for me. Challenged me. My teachers hated that I would change the way they taught us how to make things. But it always turned out I made it a better way. And quicker too.”

“The Master Tinker…” A soft smile came to his lips. “Does your family survive off of what the business made?” He asked.

“I send them money every now and then, but they’re well off. My mother was the daughter of an emissary. When he passed, she received all his funds.” You explained. “But, she was never close with her father. And we didn’t live that well when I was growing up. This shop was all that I knew.”

“It’s honorable for you to continue the business. Even if you didn’t need to.” Cassian said. “Do you get a lot of business?”

“Yeah, I do. Ever since Thesian came back from Under the Mountain, he decided that I was his #1 recommendation for a blacksmith.” You said. “And I also love to make new concepts for designs. I’ll spend all night up just thinking of exactly how to make something work.” You explained.

“Like what?” He asked, leaned a little closer to you.

And so you went off on a tangent, rambling to Cassian about the new device you were trying to create. Something like an easy device to carry a faelight when someone with less power needs it. “Like the lights on the wall. But portable. I just can’t get it to bind quite yet. But I’m almost there.” You said happily, turning around. You stumbled and held onto the mold in your hands as you ran into Cassian’s chest.

“You are incredible.” He whispered.

Your breath hitched and your eyes widened as you looked up at him.

“Oh… sorry.” He said and stepped back, clearing his throat. That would have been incredibly creepy… if you weren’t undeniably attracted to the male. “I just.. I’d love to hear more about your devices.” He said.

You gathered yourself as you set the mold on your work table. “Sure.” You said quietly, then proceeded to talk about all of the inventions you had helped make. “I’m terrible at making potions though. And burning magic and metal is difficult work.” You finally finished.

He was still staring, but continued to work on the mold in front of him. “You know… if you’re ever wanting somewhere else to reside… I think there may be a place for a Master Blacksmith in the Night Court.” Cassian finally spoke.

“Oh… I appreciate the offer. But I love being in Dawn…” you said. “I always have been one to work late into the night and not in the early morning like most residents.” You corrected.

The thought of you being so far away once Cassian went back home hurt. He couldn’t describe it, but he was going to miss you.

By the end of the week, you had been enthralled by Cassian. He opened up to you about his childhood, how he made his way to General of the Night Court armies. You also learned that his favorite food was biscuits that Rhys’s mother had made one time. And he loved them even more if they were covered in homemade jam.

While you weren’t an expert baker, you had some skill when it came to the kitchen. You also had a close friend that had a farm on the outskirts of the city. So, you left a note for Cassian when he would arrive later and made your way there. You picked up the jam that you requested. Your friend happened to have his favorite on hand, etherberries. They were similar to the strawberries that you loved, but had a slight tart aftertaste that Cassian said he found interesting.

When you made it back, Cassian was already there and working on the shotels.

“I have a couple things to do upstairs.. Why don’t you come up when you’re done with this one?” You asked him.

He shot you that breathtaking smile and nodded. “Of course.” He said.

You knew it would take at least 2 hours for him to finish what he was working on, so you had just enough time to make the biscuits. You wanted to thank him for the company he gave you during the week. His kindness and his helpfulness. The people of Dawn were sweet, and always nice to you, but having Cassian around was different. It was like his praise and attention meant more. And maybe it did. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but you wanted his constant praise and amazement all the time. When he left, it would be bittersweet. He would be leaving to help defend his Court but he would be leaving you. And you weren’t sure you were ready to say goodbye.

You made sure to hide the smell of the biscuits so Cass couldn’t smell them, and when he came upstairs finally, you had a clean towel draped over them. The jam was hidden precisely so he couldn’t see either. You were nervously bouncing on your heels when he made his way up and washed his hands.

There was something endearing about him being the one covered in soot, smelling like fire and metal. It was only ever you here before. You never got the chance to actually have anyone other than friends over. And even that wasn’t too often. You were so busy, especially now that Thesian decided you were the best tinker and blacksmith in the Court.

But Cassian being here was different from when your friends were here. This meant something. What, you couldn’t place. But it did nonetheless.

“So… what have you been working on up here all the time?” He asked as he sat down at the counter, leaning his strong forearms against the stone.

“Well… I wanted to thank you for your help this week. And I know you’re going to say it’s for you and your Court anyway… but it was very kind. I.. I enjoyed your company while you were here.” You said and pushed the bowl towards him, then lifted the towel off of the biscuits along with revealing the jam. “So I wanted to make this for you. I hope you like it.” You said, a warmth creeping up on your neck.

“I can’t.” He said, his tone slightly more serious than you had heard it before.

Your gaze snapped up. Maybe you had presumed that he would like these. This was something dear to him. You overstepped in thinking he would like these. Especially coming from you, a female he only met a few days ago. “Oh… okay.. That’s.. That’s fine.” You said, a knot working its way into your throat. “I’ll set them aside for myself - later… someone.” You cleared your throat and shook your head.

“No.. (Y/N) that’s not what I meant.” He whispered and stopped you from pulling away the bowl, his hand on your forearm. “I can’t accept food from you.” He said.

You furrowed your eyebrows and tilted your head. “I’m sorry if I overstepped-”

“I can’t accept this because you are my mate.” He said gently, his eyes bearing into yours. “And considering the look on your face, you don’t know that. I wouldn’t want to accept it without you knowing-”

“Eat.” You stopped him, staring right back into those gold-flecked hazel eyes.

He paused, searching your eyes. “What?” You hadn’t seen him this stunned yet.

“I may have not realized… but I know it. Deep down, Cass. I know you’re my mate. And the Mother has blessed me with you as a mate. I’m not going to sit back and wait. Eat.” You whispered. “If you want-”

Before you could even finish the sentence, Cassian was uncapping the jam and spreading it over the biscuits. You felt the bond snap completely into place as he took the first bite, letting out a ludicrous sound of delight.

“These are fantastic.” He whispered, finishing the biscuit and moving the bowl aside. “And I can finish these later… But I need to have a taste of my mate first.” His voice was low and gravelly. Like he needed water. But you weren’t going to question what he needed as you rounded the counter. You giggled as he pulled you close to him and his lips landed on yours. You could taste the buttery biscuit and sweet, but tart, jam on his lips. And when you opened your mouth for his tongue, you could taste him. You sunk into his hold, wrapping your arms around his neck as he pulled you on his lap.

Lets just say that neither you, nor Cassian, left your shop for the next month.

A/N: I'm picturing this takes place after Frost & Starlight.

Also, there is going to be one more part to this just because I want to develop them actually being mates and working together. Not sure when that will come out, but soon hopefully!

#katie writes #acotar #acotar fic #cassian x reader #cassian fluff #cassian acotar #cassian #acotar spoilers

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ar3-y0u-l0st · 3 months ago

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》 HELLHAMMER

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

Sorting from: MOST RECENT

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

#fluff #x reader #fanfiction #smut #angst #x female reader #headcanons #x male reader #no use of y/n #lords of chaos #hellhammer #jan axel blomberg #black metal #trve kvlt

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 2 years ago

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Practice On Me — Part Six — Azriel x Reader

Note — Tumblr still isn’t allowing me to tag some of you. I’ll keep trying but if you haven’t already, make sure you check in settings that your username is able to be searched/tagged! Mwah 💕

Summary: Reader seeks comfort after the events in Fenlaros. Lines are crossed that can’t be uncrossed. Actions come with consequences.

Word Count: 6.9k

Warnings: Some violence. Things get fiiiilthy. 18+, NSFW, smut, minors dni.

It’s not clear who punches who first, because fists are flying left and right. The male in front of you lands a harsh hit on your cheek, the metal of a ring catching your skin, but there’s no chance to register the burst of pain, because you’re being shoved, and you’re shoving back, and your knuckles are pummelling into another male’s face while his friend sends a punch straight into your gut.

It’s that impact that winds you too much to move. You’re doubling over, trying to draw breath while the fight continues around you. The same male goes to hit you a second time.

But he doesn’t have a chance as Rhys comes lunging at him and knocks him to the floor. Your friend is as flawless with his fists as he is with steel. The Fenlaros male doesn’t stand a chance against him.

This is…this is bad. If you can somehow round your friends up and get out of there before it gets any worse, you may be able to escape the repercussions. A fight like this between two camps could carry a punishment anywhere from revoked privileges to an outright flogging. You’d really rather not face a disgruntled Lord of Windhaven upon your return.

Through the brawl, you’re searching for both Azriel and Cassian. You’ve lost sight of them both completely. And you know they can hold their own, that they’re some of the best fighters in all of Illyria, but the four of you are vastly outnumbered. Even the trio of your closest friends have limits, and being dogpiled by a group of males out for blood surely brings them close to theirs.

Someone grabs the back of your shirt, and with your breath having returned to you somewhat, you round on them, ready to defend yourself once more. However, it’s Cassian who looms over you, hair tousled and shirt wrinkled.

He yells at you over the noise, “This is getting out of hand! We need to get out of here!”

Thank gods he’s choosing to be sensible for once. You suppose even Cass knows when a fight is worth having.

“I’m trying to find Az!” You shout back. “I don’t know where he—”

“Kaeda already pulled him out. Let’s grab Rhys and go!”

Now is a really, really inappropriate time to feel jealous.

And yet jealous, you are.

And maybe even a little hurt, too. Did Az even try to find you before making an exit with Kaeda?

You banish the thoughts, allowing Cassian to wrench you through the people and mostly avoid getting hurt, besides the odd wayward fist that isn’t intended for you. The second he spots Rhys, still fighting with the male who winded you, he’s grabbing him firmly by the collar of his shirt and leaving no room for protest.

“We’re getting out of here before this turns really bloody.” He tells him loudly.

Rhys doesn’t put up a fight. He nods, straight on board with the exit strategy. His wild, alert gaze swivels to study you. “You’re alright?”

“Fine.” You nod. “Let’s go.”

It turns out the exit strategy is to just shove through hordes of people until you find a way out. Rhys is keeping hold of Cassian and you’re keeping hold of Rhys, and the three of you create an aggressive little train that wends through the chaos until cold air washes over you, and you’re spilling out onto the front path. You can hear the distant whoosh and thwack of the Fenlaros lot having no choice but to turn on each other.

“Y/N!”

You turn, just in time to see Az pushing away from a wall, Kaeda in tow. She carries a bloodied dish rag that she was clearly using to dab at his bust lip, but she falls back as Az strides over to you.

“I was looking for you everywhere.” He grabs your chin in his hand, turning your head to the side. “Your cheek is cut.”

You stare back at him, waiting for him to say something — something that even vaguely resembles an explanation as to why he started all of this.

“We should really get out of here—”

“Does it hurt?” He interrupts Rhysand’s interjection, his touch gentle despite the ferocity in his gaze. His thumb brushes over your cheek.

You’re too pissed off to care about his concern.

“I’ll live.” You snap, shoving him away from you. “Azriel, what the fuck?”

“My sentiments entirely.” Cass mumbles.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You continue. “You were the one who said coming here was nothing to be worried about, and then you start that? Have you totally lost your mind?”

“My sentiments entirely.” Rhys echoes.

A muscle in Azriel’s jaw ticks. He takes a step back, swallowing hard. “Sorry for being protective—”

“Possessive, more like—”

“It’s my fault.”

Both your heads snap round as Kaeda steps closer. She stares between you, wide-eyed. Doe-eyed. Looking like she stole the last slice of cake and has a litany of evidence stacked against her.

“He was being protective over me.” She says, and you freeze. She angles herself towards Azriel. “I shouldn’t have mentioned that Thedis and I have history. I don’t know why I did. I’m sorry, I—I didn’t think you’d react like that.”

Oh.

That’s—that’s not what you thought was happening.

Clearly, you and Kaeda have two very different understandings of what went down.

You study Az closely, waiting for his reaction — to see if Kaeda is right, and it wasn’t you he was starting a fight over at all.

He stares at her like she’s spoken in a foreign tongue. He opens his mouth.

“Shit.” Kaeda swears suddenly, looking past him. “Shit, that’s my father.”

Each of you swivels around to see the colossal male striding down the path towards you, two slightly — very slightly — smaller males flanking either side of him. His long hair falls about his head in unruly waves, and there’s something ruggedly handsome about his face that kind of makes you want him to smother you with his ridiculously huge bicep. Everything about him is dark. His eyes and his beard and the whorls of Illyrian tattoos that cover the expanse of his neck.

This…this is a male who could snuff out a family of six just by looking in their direction. And his gaze zeroes in entirely on Azriel.

Cassian yanks you closer by the back of your shirt. “Let’s go—”

“He’s going to want to speak with you.” Kaeda turns to Azriel. “You’re the only shadowsinger around here. He knows who you are. He’s intrigued by your power.”

Az continues to watch his approach. And then he squares his shoulders. “Fine.” He doesn’t even glance your way as he says, “I’ll see the rest of you back in Windhaven.”

You don’t like this. Not one bit. Who knows what the male might do to Azriel? You want to say something, to protest—

But Kaeda links her arm through his, and you know there’s no point. This isn’t your fight.

“Don’t get yourself into even deeper shit.” Cassian says, lifting you into his arms.

Kaeda doesn’t seem worried. She rolls her eyes at that. “He’s not going to hurt him.”

You can’t help staring at her. She seems so sure, so unbothered. Not just by what her father might have in store, but by the entire situation. She seems almost…smug.

Az did start an entire fucking brawl over her, after all.

You can’t meet his gaze as you cling to Cassian. Too much has happened in a short space of time. It makes you feel…full. Uncomfortable. You need some space from Az to process what exactly just occurred.

And it seems like your wish will be granted. It’s clear, as he steps closer, that Kaeda’s father has no interest in the rest of you. His cat-like eyes follow a shadow that coils around your friend, and you could swear his lips want to smirk. Like there’s some inside joke the rest of you aren’t privy to.

“Go.” Azriel says, and neither Rhys nor Cass need telling twice. They don’t seem particularly concerned.

Your gaze snags on Az just as Cassian’s arms tighten around you, and he shoots into the skies with an unpleasantly steep climb. Rhys does the same.

And as Kaeda and Azriel become smaller the higher you go, you’re just able to glimpse Kaeda’s father stopping before him and shaking his hand. It’s then that you look away.

This isn’t for you to worry about. It’s—

It’s between him and Kaeda.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The thing about flying — or, in your case, being flown — is that it’s invaluable for moments of pensiveness. There’s no better time to face your thoughts than when the clarity of the sky stretches all around you.

But that can also be really fucking dangerous. Because you think. And then you think some more. And then suddenly, you’re thinking about anything and everything all at once, thinking about ifs, buts, maybes, thinking yourself into a bad mood.

And that is precisely what you do.

You are pissed the fuck off.

So pissed off, you want to scream into the void, at the shifting landscape below. You’re pissed off with Azriel, with his actions, with your entire situation.

He has never been as stupid, as reckless, as he has been recently. Never did you think you’d see a day where Cassian was the more sensible of the two. You’re used to Az being the mediator, to always approaching situations with a rational mind.

And yet these days, he’s a ticking time bomb. You don’t know who he might have a problem with, and clearly you don’t know why, given that you so wrongly assumed his protectiveness — possessiveness — flared up over you.

Of course it was Kaeda. How stupid you are.

Lust is one hell of a blinding light.

Every few seconds, you tell yourself you’re not going to think about it. And then a few seconds after that, you’re straight back to that constant screech of AZRIELANDKAEDAAZRIELANDKAEDAAZRIELANDKAEDA.

If this is who he’s becoming because of her…you’re not sure that’s a good thing.

By the time Cassian is setting you down in front of the cottage, your mood is absolutely foul. You feel sobered by the situation. You may as well have not had a drop of alcohol at all.

Rhys doesn’t stick around. He tells you and Cass that he’s going to Velaris — he wants to explain what happened in Fenlaros to his father before the High Lord can hear it from anyone else. And so it’s just you and Cassian traipsing into the cottage, freezing cold and fed up that the night went how it did. Your stomach is starting to ache where the male punched you, the cut on your cheek starting to sting.

You head straight for the kitchen and begin turfing through the cabinets, looking for a half-empty bottle of whiskey or a snack or something. You slam each cabinet door closed, but it does nothing to alleviate your irritation.

Cassian lights a fire, his eyes watching you closely. Perhaps he can sense that something is brewing in your veins. And he’d be right about that — you’re just not sure what it is.

Finally, you sit up on the kitchen counter and settle on biting into a stale bread roll. It’s dry and tasteless, but it occupies your mouth and stops a scream from escaping.

“I want to clean that cut on your cheek.” Cass strides over to the kitchen, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Only in your heart. “No.” You lie.

He nods, and just like the other night, he begins gathering medical supplies. He’s getting good at this. You kind of want to tell him not to bother, to just let the cut sting, but you’re brooding too much to get the words out.

You swallow down your last, dry bite of bread, and you comment, “I knew going to Fenlaros was a fucking terrible idea.”

Cassian chuckles. There isn’t much that fazes him. “In hindsight, I don’t know what we were thinking.”

“With your cocks, probably.”

He quirks an eyebrow at you, and then his hands are on your knees, parting your legs so he can slot himself in between. You don’t protest; he’ll only start a mother hen routine and threaten to bring you to a healer instead.

He wets a rag and begins to gently dab the gash on your cheek. It hurts, but not enough. Not bad enough to drown out the thoughts of the night’s events. You go through them from start to finish, and you have to suck in a deep breath just to stop yourself from punching something.

Why had Kaeda suggested such a stupid fucking thing?

And okay, you can’t put the blame entirely on her; it’s mostly your jealousy that stokes your anger. You, Azriel, Cassian and Rhys are all fully autonomous adults. Any of you could have shot the idea down and refused to go.

But it just…it just sits funny with you, weird in your chest. Something about it feels…gross.

Again — probably your jealousy talking.

But the entire thing had been a shit show from start to finish. You should have known, from the self-loathing thoughts that were pelting you on the way there, that you should never have gone. And your failure to listen to your gut only worsens your mood.

“You push that brain to think any harder and it’ll explode.” Cassian murmurs, his warm breath fanning your face. “You can share, if you like. I may even be able to dredge up some wisdom to impart.”

You bite down on your lower lip. “Why would Kaeda’s father want to speak with Az?”

It surprises you that the question makes him smile. “I wouldn’t worry over that.” He says. “I imagine he’s more interested in speaking to Az because he’s fucking his daughter than because he came to a rival camp.”

You almost flinch at the words.

Of course, you know that by now, Azriel and Kaeda have probably taken that leap and slept together. But torturing yourself with your thoughts is different to hearing it said aloud, and by someone so close to Az, too.

It hurts. And you want to scratch away at the feeling. It might just be what tips you over.

Cass studies you for a moment, reading the change, the tightening, in your expression. He knows there’s something — but thank the gods he doesn’t know what.

He turns his attention to your hand — your knuckles must have split when you threw a couple of good punches — and he begins to clean it gently.

“Here I am again, eh? Playing healer. I should get myself an apron.”

He’s trying to make you laugh, but you can barely force your lips to twitch upwards. He drinks in your pathetic attempt with a sympathy that you can’t stand. And, sensing that humour isn’t going to be enough tonight, he tries a different approach.

“Talk to me, Y/N.” He pleads softly, dabbing gently at your hand. “Please…”

You frown. You’re thinking and feeling too many things at once to make sense of them. Running through the entire night over and over. You’re not sure which of those feelings will rear its ugly head when you try to speak.

But you open your mouth, and the words just spill out.

“I really fucking hated myself tonight.”

Cassian pauses momentarily. And then he continues his treatment to your wounds. “Y/N, fights break out every other hour—”

“No. Not because of the fight. It wasn’t that.” You swallow a lump down. “It was the flying.”

“…the flying?”

“Being carried by Rhys while the rest of you flew so freely. Knowing I’ll never be able to do that. I’m Illyrian, and yet I’m always going to be confined to the ground. I hated myself—”

“Y/N—”

“I really fucking hated myself, Cass. And to be confronted by that fact every damn time I take my shirt off…to see the fucking hideous remains of my wings—”

Your words are cut short when Cassian’s huge hands grab your face and force you to look at him. It stings the cut on your cheek, but he doesn’t seem to notice as he stares at you fiercely.

“No. Cut that out right now.” A muscle in his jaw moves. You’re looking back at a lesser-spotted serious Cassian. “There is no part of you — not one part — that comes even close to being hideous, scars or no scars. You’re brilliant. Inside and out. You’re fucking beautiful, and I love you, and I won’t have you hating yourself. Particularly not at the hands of your piece of shit father.”

For a moment, you’re so stunned by the impassioned speech that you don’t know what to say. Thanking him wouldn’t be enough. And you think you might want to cry, but tonight, crying wouldn’t be enough, either. Nor would screaming. You just…want to feel something different. Something good.

Something worth feeling.

You stare back at Cassian, and your throat bobs.

And it might be against your better judgement, but you cover his hands with yours, and you haul your mouth to his.

You can’t exactly explain it, but he has a mouth as rugged as his general appearance, something rough and untamed and just…Cassian. It’s exactly what you need in that moment. You kiss him as if you’ve kissed him a thousand times before.

You feel the moment’s hesitation on his end. It’s rare that anything is able to knock him silent, but this most certainly does. After a pause, he rips his mouth away from yours, and he stares at you, wide-eyed and flushed, reading your face as if in search of an answer to an unspoken question.

But his internal battle isn’t a long one. He seems satisfied with whatever conclusion he comes to. And then he’s surging forward and kissing you back, hard.

What follows is not slow nor tentative.

You and Cassian love each other dearly, but there are no illusions that this is anything but needed pleasure. He’s not reciprocating because he’s spent hours daydreaming about this, or because you mean more to him than any other female.

Cassian would fuck a tree if a stirred branch waved in his general direction.

And that is absolutely fine. That is exactly what you need.

He wrenches your legs further apart and yanks you to the very edge of the counter, just so he can get closer, kiss you harder. His hand snakes up the nape of your neck and bunches in your hair, strands of it tangling around his fingers, and he tips your head back, his mouth scorching hot and hungry on yours.

This is not something you’ve ever thought about, because he is just Cassian. He’s the male who pisses you off by leaving weapons lying around under couch cushions, who sings loudly at the top of his voice first thing in the morning, who fights like fighting is going out of fashion. Since the first day you’d met him, when his eleven-year-old self had looked you up and down and challenged you to an arm wrestle, he’s always just been Cassian.

You’ve always needed him in some impulsive, temperamental way — someone who keeps you on your toes, even if you complain about it sometimes. But now, you need him in a different way.

You part your mouth from his, just long enough to rip your shirt off and chuck it vaguely over his shoulder. Cass watches as you unclasp the bandeau that covers your breasts, and that’s being thrown away, too, and now your top half is naked, and Cassian is growling. It’s not even that he hasn’t seen these parts of you before, but you’d think it was the first ever time, going by the way his eyes darken, and a thousand sinful thoughts flit over his face.

“Fuck.” His voice is deeper. Both of his hands cup your breasts, and he kisses you again. “I love these.”

You smile, and you lock your legs around his waist, and you both groan as you yank him as close as he can get, and you’re grinding the centre of you over the bulge in his breeches. That, alone, feels too good — the length of him pushing through the barrier of your clothing. It’s not enough. You need more. You need him inside you.

Cass seems to echo the sentiment as he growls and finally yanks you fully off the counter. “No screwing around.” He says through gritted teeth. “I need to fuck you.”

His hands are at your breeches, and he’s ripping them open, and you’re so wet between your legs that you have to rub your thighs together, desperate for some kind of friction. Cassian notices, of course, and one side of his mouth tips up into a smirk.

“Turn around.”

You do.

You’re happy to be commanded. You don’t want to be in charge, don’t want to teach.

You want to be taken, and you want to be taught.

His rough hands shove your breeches all the way down, and then he’s seeing to his, ripping at the buttons and stays just enough to pull the hard length of him out. You turn your head to drink in the sight, but he doesn’t allow it.

He slams your front against that counter, and then he’s at your back, the head of his cock brushing against you as he murmurs into your ear, “How do you want it?”

You think your mouth might be watering. “Hard.”

“Hard?”

“Hard.”

“Brace yourself, then, sweetpea.” He grabs your hands, plants them firmly on the counter, calluses biting into your skin. His teeth graze the shell of your ear as he asks, “Are you ready for me?”

You couldn’t be more ready if you tried. You moan, pushing your ass back against him. His chuckle is felt through every inch of you.

He moves one hand down, drags it down your body, slots it between your legs. Your hips give a little jerk as he mops up some of your wetness with his fingers.

“Oh, yeah, you’re ready for me.” There’s a smirk in his voice. His fingers land on your clit, and he nips your ear again. “Good girl.”

You open your mouth — to say something, or to beg, you’re not sure. But there’s no chance.

The head of Cassian’s cock is guided to your entrance. You gasp at the mere feeling of it bumping against you, teasing the opening.

And then he fucking thrusts all the way in, hard enough that you slam once again against the counter. Medical supplies go flying onto the floor.

And gods, it feels too good.

There’s a tiny bite of pain, yes, but it’s pleasurable — more a feeling of fullness. He’s pushed all the way in to the hilt, and the guttural noise that leaves him might just be enough to make you come. It’s animalistic, the way he groans, almost a snarl.

“Hard?” He repeats, withdrawing slightly.

You gasp, your head tipping back. “Hard.”

“Thank the Mother.”

You yelp as his hand suddenly smacks against your ass cheek, and then he’s spreading you open and thrusting in again.

He is not gentle.

He is not soft or tentative or even kind.

This is how Cassian — the much-feared Illyrian — fucks.

And you like it, want it, need it. You push back against him to remind him he doesn’t need to be gentle. Forget about the fact that you’ve always known each other, that you have a fondness for each other.

Fuck me, you communicate silently. Ruin me, and make me forget who I am.

He growls, as if those very thoughts reached him mind-to-mind. And fuck you, he does.

You’re slammed again and again against the counter, hard enough to bruise and leave marks. His balls slap against your skin as he damn near rams into you at an unstoppable force. He’s grunting and snarling and panting. His hands suddenly clasp both of your arms, and he pulls them behind your back, holding onto them and thrusting faster.

“Fucking knew,” he growls, “that your cunt would feel like this. That you’d squeeze my cock like this.”

He slows just slightly — just enough to roll his hips and make sure you feel every single inch of him stroking the inside of you. The shout that leaves you doesn’t even sound like you.

“You like that, sweetpea?” He chuckles darkly. He pushes in to the hilt again, and you moan — a mistake that comes with a penalty. His hips still. “Give me your words, sweetheart. I want to know how much you need my cock.”

“Cassian.” You grit your teeth. “Fuck me.”

He withdraws. Slams into you again. And then the rhythm picks up, the pace fast and raw and unbeatable. Gripping onto your arms gives Cass the perfect leverage to take you exactly as you want him to take you, as he wants to take you. He can’t possibly go any faster, reach any deeper.

Heat coils in your lower belly. You meet every one of his thrusts by bucking against him, and it spurs your body on. You can feel something brilliant building beneath your skin and firing through your veins.

And when he lets go of one of your arms and dips his hand between your legs, his fingers immediately finding your clit, you’re not at all sure that you won’t just explode.

As you feel the head of his cock hit deep inside you, unable to go any further, as the pads of his fingers circle your clit, the noise that leaves you is unlike any other noise you’ve ever made. You’re vaguely aware of a sudden surge of wetness between your legs that drips down your thighs. Cassian made you squirt.

He half-laughs-half-groans, and his teeth nip your ear. “Sweetpea,” he bites out, “who knew you were such a filthy girl? Is this what I’ve been missing out on?”

You can’t speak — words fail you. You’re utterly incapable of doing anything but making your breathy little noises, your fractured moans, as Cassian pounds into you. His ministrations at your clit don’t even falter, even as he lets out a noise that hints at his own release being close.

“Come for me again.” Your wetness still drenches his hand, you know, but it’s not enough — he wants more. His finger presses down hard on your clit, and at the exact same moment, he lands a harsh kiss on your neck that turns into a suck. He slams into you so hard that you have to grip the counter to stop yourself being winded for the second time that night. And you erupt.

You hear the exact moment the walls of your cunt clamp around Cassian’s length. The noise he makes is one that you need to commit to memory, keep for a cold, lonely night when it’s just you and your hand. You’ve never heard anything like it. You never imagined he could make a sound like it.

“Oh, gods, yes,” He damn near whines. His hand is suddenly at your back, and he pushes you down, bends you over until your cheek is pressed to the countertop. He fastens that hand at your shoulder, the other at your hip, and then he’s on the homestretch. “Oh, fuck!”

He thrusts, and he thrusts, and he thrusts — and then he goes still, his cock exploding inside you.

He grunts through every spurt, his fingers biting into your skin. You’re not sure you can move as your cunt continues to contract around him, draining him of every last drop. The counter and Cassian’s hands are the only things holding you up. If he steps away now, your legs may just buckle and drag you to the floor.

So in contrast to the wicked noises you were both just making, near-silence sweeps in, broken only by you both gasping for breath. You close your eyes, your brow furrowing. Press your forehead against the surface you’re currently slumped over. You can’t remember how to…how to exist outside of pleasure.

You are well and truly fucked out.

You’re almost content to just stay there, gripping onto the counter for dear life. But then Cassian finally slides out of you, pulling his seed with him. It drips down your legs, into your underwear. A shudder leaves you.

“Shit, that was—” Cass breathes a laugh. “Gods. Why have we never done that before?”

You manage your own weak, sated chuckle, and finally try to stand up straight. “Because friends aren’t supposed to fuck friends senseless.”

“No,” he agrees. Pauses. “But, like…it doesn’t have to make things awkward, does it? We’re both adults. Capable of sharing pleasure and…and carrying on as normal…”

Oh, bless his heart.

Non-committal Cass is now worried that a casual rearranging of your organs might turn into you falling in love.

“It’s not going to be awkward, Cass.” You snort softly. “I’m just not sure I can move.”

He stares at you. And you stare at him.

The laughter hits you both at the same time. It’s laughter of both relief and release. An acknowledgement that you both feel a darn sight better now than you did when you first walked in. The night isn’t weighing on you so heavily, now.

Is that bad? Perhaps.

But you can fuck people, too. Why…why should you regret it?

“Here.” Tucking himself back into his breeches, Cassian yanks his shirt off, handing it to you. “You can use this to clean yourself up. I’ll run you a bath.”

He turns, but you’re stopping him with a hand on his arm. “I don’t want special treatment just because we fucked. Just…be normal.”

One eyebrow quirks up. “I planned to run you a bath after I cleaned your cheek. We just got a bit…sidetracked. I’m looking after you, Y/N — as your friend.”

You study his face. He’s open, sincere — not pitying. Good.

“Okay.” You tug your hand away. “Thank you.”

He dips his chin, and then he’s strolling away again. He stops at the bottom of the stairs, turning back to look at you.

“I love you.” He says. “Just…don’t ever doubt that.”

You’re not sure you ever could. He’s one of the few constants in your life.

You nod, suddenly not sure you can make eye contact. “I know. I love you, too.”

He, too, nods. And then he disappears, and you’re listening to his boots thudding against each step of the stairs.

You wipe yourself down, tug your breeches up. Slump back against the counter. Drag a hand over your face.

You kind of just want to sleep, be unconscious, before the weighty thoughts begin to shove their way in again.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The summons comes early the next morning, before the sun has even arisen.

One of Lord Devlon’s cronies comes to pluck you and Cassian from the cottage, lead you to the Camp Lord’s study. Azriel is already there when you arrive.

You meet his gaze as you sit down, trying to look for some clue as to what might have occurred in Fenlaros after you’d left. All he seems interested in is checking you over, surveying you for what injuries you have as a result of the night before.

You’re not all too sure if your stomach is tender because of the punch you received to your gut, or because of how thoroughly Cassian fucked you against the kitchen counter.

Probably best not to linger on that thought for too long.

You’re sandwiched between your two friends, waiting for Lord Devlon to actually grace you with his presence. Where Rhysand is, you can only imagine — probably dealing with his father’s wrath.

You glance down at a slight, sudden pressure you feel at your leg. Azriel presses his thigh into yours, and you lift your gaze to meet his.

“You’re not too hurt?” He speaks quietly.

You shake your head. “You?”

“I’m fine. All good, Cass?”

With his typical, swaggering nonchalance that will most certainly land him in deeper shit, Cass grins and stretches his arms above his head. “Just peachy.”

“Az.” You coax the shadowsinger’s gaze back to yours. “What happened with Kaeda’s father?”

Perhaps you’re being a tad dramatic, but you’d lain awake pretty much all night, brooding on the fact that you’d fucked Cass whilst Az was being subjected to the gods knew what. Your thoughts had snowballed into preparing you for Az to return beaten black and blue — or not return at all.

But he looks…fine. A little roughed up from the brawl, but otherwise fine.

He opens his mouth, leaning closer, and that’s when the door flies open.

The three of you stand up immediately. Tuck your hands behind your backs. Bow your heads.

Lord Devlon saunters into the room, kicking the door shut behind him. His footsteps are loud and purposed as he strides to his chair.

“Sit.” He says coldly.

You take your seats once more. The Lord’s eyes skate over the three of you for a pensive few moments, before settling entirely on you. It makes you uncomfortable.

“So.” He sits back. “Who wants to take a stab at why I’m not very happy this morning?”

The three of you keep your mouths clamped shut.

“I’ll give you a clue. It’s not so much to do with a piss-poor night’s sleep, as it is to do with the fact that three of my fucking soldiers,” his lip curls as he looks you up and down, “and their little plaything,snuck off to a rival camp and picked a fight.”

“She’s not our—”

“Did I give you permission to speak, Azriel?”

The ticking in Az’s jaw is slight, but it’s there, as he stares forward. “No, my lord.”

“Then keep your fucking mouth shut until I do.”

Your friend bows his head once more.

“Can any one of you explain why, exactly, you not only travelled to a rival camp without my orders, but why you then decided to stoke tensions between our two camps? Because, you know, that’s their territory. They were well within their rights to defend themselves and not one of them is being punished for it.”

None of you are sure whether he actually wants an answer. It’s best to just…keep your mouth shut.

“None of you have anything to say?” Devlon’s eyebrows flick up. “Fine. How about I offer you my theory? Because I’m seeing a running theme, here.”

You can feel his hard, intense stare bounce from Azriel, to you, to Cassian. Back and forth and back and forth.

But it always returns to you.

It might be in that moment that you realise there’s another layer to this, that you stupidly hadn’t considered. One that’s really going to get Devlon and his cronies grinding their teeth.

You’re female.

And it’s bad enough for males, his soldiers, to behave like this. But you? A mere, docile female? Someone who should be focused on housekeeping and finding someone to breed with?

A female stepping outside of her place is more or less considered a crime by Illyrians. And you don’t have a Camp Lord father to get you out of that very deep shit.

“It’s Y/N, isn’t it?” Lord Devlon addresses you. He knows your name. He’s a cat playing with a mouse.

You meet his gaze and nod. “Yes, my lord.”

“The blacksmith’s daughter.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Hm. The thing is, Y/N, I am here to raise armies. To oversee the training of their soldiers. As Camp Lord, that is my duty.”

You grit your teeth, bite your tongue. You hate the condescending tone that is so fucking typical of Illyrian males. It’s patronising. Offensive. He’s stating blatant facts and explaining them to you as though you are a child.

But you simply dip your chin in acknowledgment, because playing your part is the only way the three of you are getting out of here with a slap on the wrist.

“I cannot afford for my soldiers to be distracted from their training, or be seduced into making trouble for themselves.” The way he looks you up and down, in that moment, makes you feel oily. “I need my soldiers to be prepared. If war came tomorrow, do you honestly think I could send these two out onto a battlefield?”

These two. He says it with such dismissal, such contempt, that you find yourself balling your fists at your sides. He’s always singled your friends out, tried to break them. He may have to tolerate Rhysand — his father being the High Lord and all — but the tiny slither of acceptance he has for Rhys does not hold up for Azriel or Cassian. He sees them as useless. As nobodies. He’s waiting for them to lose their lives in training or combat so he can be rid of them for good.

It boils your blood.

Before you can stop yourself, your lip curls. “I think they’re two of the best soldiers in Illyria, and you’re damn well lucky to have them.”

Devlon sneers back at you. “I’m sure you would say that. If only to keep them in your bed.”

Beside you, the arms of Cassian’s chair creak as he squeezes them hard. “My Lord—”

“If either one of you speaks without my permission again, I will string you up by your balls. Understood?”

There’s a pause. And then both Cass and Az are sitting back in their seats. Offering quiet, affirmative responses.

“So.” Devlon focuses on you once more. Anger mottles his cheeks a reddish hue. “Considering every time these two land themselves in shit, you are at the centre of it, I see only one appropriate course of action. I will not have you leading them astray. Be it pointless fighting or the absolute colossal fuck up of last night, you are always the common denominator. That stops today. This instant.”

You stare at him. You’re not entirely sure what he’s getting at, but something lurches in your stomach. You swallow down a lump in your throat and grip hard onto your chair.

“As soldiers under my command,” Devlon’s eyes flit between Cassian and Azriel, “I forbid you — and Rhysand — from having any more involvement with her. You will not spend time with her. You will not speak to her in passing. You won’t even look at her. If I find out you do, you’ll regret it.”

All three of you shoot up in your seats, alarmed looks passing your faces. “You can’t do this.” You’re the first to spit.

“Oh?” Devlon cocks an eyebrow. “This is Camp Windhaven, is it not?”

“Yes, but—”

“I am Lord of Camp Windhaven, am I not?”

“Obviously—”

“Then I absolutely have the authority to give such orders, and thus, consider them given. Starting today, your involvement with my soldiers ends.”

“My Lord,” Azriel’s tone is pinched, panicked, “you don’t understand — she’s living with us right now. Her father kicked her out of his home. She has nowhere else to go.”

“Do you think I give a shit about her domestic situation, Shadowsinger?” The Lord snaps at him. “I’m here to oversee the training of Windhaven’s soldiers. Not to get involved in pointless family drama.”

“But where am I supposed to go?” You can’t help it — you slam your fist against the arm of your chair. “What am I supposed to do?”

“That isn’t my problem.” Devlon shrugs. He stands up, planting his hands on the desk between you. He leans over with a glower. “But you better run home with your tail between your legs and begin mending relations with your father, because if I detect that there’s even a hint of involvement with you and my soldiers, I will make you regret it, girl. Do not cross me.”

He tucks — no, slams — his chair under the table. It’s a dismissal. You’re not allowed to respond.

You’re silent, too stunned to think, speak, breathe, as Devlon strides to the door and rips it open.

“Get the fuck out, all three of you.” He orders, and you stand numbly from your chair. “You two,” he directs his attention to your friends, “I want your asses in the training ring immediately. Go.”

They don’t want to, you can tell. They hesitate, but ultimately, there’s no other choice. They have no authority. They’re mere soldiers in training. This is their career, their life’s work, on the line. They can’t meet your gaze as they file out of the door, and you don’t blame them.

“And you?” Devlon stops you as you try to follow, gripping onto your shoulder hard. He may as well pick you up by the scruff of your neck like a boisterous pup. “You’d better heed my warning, Y/N the blacksmith’s daughter.”

He shoves you out of the room. You throw your hands out before you slam into the wall.

“Stay. The fuck. Away.”

azriel tag list: @hanasakr @positivewitch @ruler-of-hades @brekkershadowsinger @nightscourtt @imperfect0angel @luna-1-3-5 @hyacinthoideshispanica @lucyysthings @lahoete @littlemoonash @blacksstarrynight @azriels-mate123 @ghostly-poetic @frieddesigninspiringquotesslime @a-frog-with-a-laptop @illyriansimp @morrie-rose @passingthroughfireandshadow @illyrian-dreamer @azrielsbabyg @96jnie @mich0731 @mulansaucey @truthtellerfanclub @acourtofbooksandmagic @insightsonmylife @basicbittywitty @curbside-cyanide @acourtofchaosandmess @123345566 @starrynights-frostbites @eos-princess @thesillyyogourt @ona-raising-07-l @acediahamartia @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @polli05927 @asdfjklbooks @azriel-luvr @amysangel @humanpersonlasttimeichecked @wildflowernightmere @audie-writes @aaronwarnerswifereal @starxqt @lulufairbank @laurzwrites @livelaughlovenestaarcheron @girlwith-thecinder-blockgarden @jjlevin @smitty-werbenjagermenjenson @spikertrash @kindagoldylocks @barbiezambie @kht1998 @soupghoul @nyctophiliawitch @gracie1234567891011 @gaymistakeboi @luvmxo @rinalouu @microwaveallthedemons @starlightshowdown

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moonlitstoriess · 4 months ago

Text

The Heir and the Outlaw-Eris Vanserra x fem!reader (oneshot)

Summary: In the shadows of the Autumn Court, where betrayal is currency and power is survival, Eris Vanserra has finally had enough. To dethrone his tyrannical father, Beron, he strikes an uneasy deal with Y/N, an outsider with her own vendetta against the High Lord. Their alliance is fraught with tension, mistrust, and a dangerous chemistry that threatens to burn them both. As plots unravel and secrets come to light, Eris and Y/N must decide if their fragile bond is strong enough to survive the inferno—or if they’ll both be consumed by it.

see masterlist

Warnings: just a mix of everything really lmao, also its really long guys😭

The throne room was suffocating.

Heat radiated from the great stone hearths lining the walls, their flames licking upward as if they too bowed to the High Lord’s wrath. Yet it wasn’t the fire that burned Y/N’s skin—it was the weight of a hundred gazes, each one eager to see her fall. The Autumn Court was a den of wolves, and she was the wounded prey dragged into their midst.

She stood in the center of the room, wrists bound with rough iron, the metallic tang of blood on her lips where one of Beron’s soldiers had struck her. The crimson trail was drying now, stiff on her skin, but the defiance in her eyes hadn’t dimmed. Not even as Beron stared down at her from his throne of flame and iron, his cruel smile a weapon sharper than any blade.

Beron tilted his head, studying her like one might examine a particularly irritating insect. “You’ve caused quite a bit of trouble, haven’t you?” His voice was low, smooth—a predator’s purr before the strike.

Y/N didn’t answer. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

Her silence drew a ripple of amusement from the courtiers gathered in the shadows. The sycophants, the schemers, all perched like vultures awaiting the kill. Among them stood a tall male with red hair that caught the firelight. She barely glanced at him, her focus fixed on the High Lord, but somewhere in the back of her mind, a thought lingered: Another one of his cruel sons. Eris? Maybe one of the others. Does it even matter? To her, they all looked the same—arrogant, sharp-edged, and entirely untrustworthy.

Beron’s smirk deepened. “Nothing to say? I suppose that’s to be expected from a filthy little outlaw.”

The word hit its mark, but Y/N refused to flinch. Yes, she was an outlaw. A ghost in the shadows, a thorn in Beron’s side. Her work had earned her plenty of enemies in the Autumn Court, in both the human and fae realms really, but she hadn’t been reckless enough to get caught. Not until now.

“You’ve been trespassing in my lands, stealing from my stores, and stirring trouble among my people,” Beron continued, his voice growing colder with each accusation. “And here you are, bold enough to stand before me and think you’ll leave with your head still attached.”

A flash of fear sparked in her chest, quickly buried beneath a rising tide of anger. She had known the risks, but Beron’s accusations weren’t entirely true. Not all of them, at least. Yes, she had stolen, had trespassed, but she hadn’t done it for herself. The people of the villages—Beron’s own subjects—had suffered under his greed, his neglect. Someone had to help them. Someone had to fight back.

But that wasn’t why she was here. Not entirely.

The vendetta that burned in her veins had nothing to do with stolen goods or ruined crops. It had everything to do with the family she’d lost, the lives Beron had taken in his endless quest for power. She had come to this court with a plan, with revenge etched into her bones, and now it was crumbling before her eyes.

Beron rose from his throne, the flames at his back surging higher. “I should kill you here and now. It would be a fitting end for a little thief.”

She braced herself, even as her heart thundered against her ribs.

But instead of a blade, Beron waved his hand dismissively. “Lock her in the dungeons. I’ll decide her fate when I feel like it.”

Rough hands grabbed her arms, and Y/N didn’t struggle as they dragged her from the room. The red-haired male—Eris, she was now certain—watched her go, his expression unreadable. She told herself she didn’t care. He was just another piece of this rotten court, another predator in a den of monsters.

Still, his gaze lingered, and for a moment, Y/N thought she saw something flicker in his amber eyes.

She didn’t have time to wonder what it was. The heavy doors slammed shut behind her, sealing her in darkness.

The dungeon was everything she expected of the Autumn Court—cold, damp, and reeking of decay. Iron bars lined the narrow corridor, their rusted edges gleaming faintly in the dim torchlight. The air was thick with the stench of mildew and despair, and somewhere in the darkness, water dripped in a slow, mocking rhythm.

Y/N was shoved into a cell without ceremony. She stumbled but caught herself before she hit the stone floor. The door slammed shut behind her with a metallic clang, the sound echoing through the empty halls.

The guard sneered through the bars. “Enjoy your stay, thief.”

She didn’t respond, didn’t even look at him. Instead, she backed into the far corner of the cell, the damp stone biting into her palms as she sat down. The guard lingered for a moment longer, as if waiting for her to break, before finally retreating down the corridor.

Silence settled like a heavy blanket, broken only by the occasional drip of water.

Y/N let her head fall back against the wall, her eyes closing as she inhaled deeply, trying to steady her racing thoughts. This wasn’t the plan. She had been careful—every move calculated, every step planned to avoid detection. She hadn’t expected Beron’s soldiers to find her, much less drag her into the heart of his court.

Her hands curled into fists. She had let her guard down, and now she was paying the price.

The hours crawled by, each one stretching into eternity. Hunger gnawed at her stomach, but she ignored it. The iron cuffs around her wrists made her skin itch, their magic suppressing the faint hum of power that always thrummed in her veins. She was trapped—physically, magically, and in every other way that mattered.

But she wasn’t done. Not yet.

Her eyes flicked open at the sound of footsteps.

They were light, measured, and deliberate. Not the heavy boots of a guard, nor the hurried steps of a messenger. These footsteps carried purpose.

Y/N sat hunched in her corner of the cell, her knees drawn up, feigning indifference as she stared at the cracked ceiling. She didn’t look up when the footsteps stopped outside her door.

The familiar scent of burning leaves hit her before she heard his voice.

“Still alive, then?”

Y/N’s head turned, slowly, to the source of the voice. The red-haired male from the throne room—Eris, she recalled now. She didn’t bother hiding her disdain as her gaze swept over him. He stood just beyond the bars, his arms crossed over his chest, his stance deceptively relaxed.

“I’d hate to disappoint,” she said dryly, her voice rasping from the damp air.

Eris’s lips twitched, but it wasn’t quite a smile. His sharp amber eyes flicked over her, cataloging every detail—the bruises on her wrists from the iron cuffs, the dirt smudged on her face, the rigid set of her jaw.

“I expected more from someone with your... reputation,” he said, his tone light but laced with something sharper.

Y/N shifted, stretching her legs out in front of her, pretending she didn’t care about the scrutiny. “And I expected more from a prince, but here we are.”

That earned her a genuine smirk, fleeting but real. Eris crouched down, his hands resting on his knees as he leveled her with a look. “You’re bold for someone in your position. It’s almost admirable.”

“Admirable,” she echoed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Coming from a Vanserra, I’m sure that’s a compliment.”

Eris tilted his head, unbothered by the jab. “Perhaps.”

The silence stretched between them, taut and heavy. Y/N’s gaze didn’t waver from his, though every instinct told her to stay on guard. Eris wasn’t here out of boredom—that much was clear.

“What do you want?” she asked finally.

Eris tapped a finger against his knee, his expression thoughtful. “Curiosity, mostly. My father seems quite taken with the idea that you’re a threat. I wanted to see if he was right.”

She scoffed, leaning back against the wall. “And? What’s the verdict?”

His eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of something unreadable passing over his face. “The jury’s still out.”

Before she could reply, he rose to his full height, brushing nonexistent dust from his coat. “Enjoy your stay, outlaw,” he said, his voice dripping with mock courtesy.

Y/N’s jaw tightened as he turned on his heel and disappeared down the corridor, his footsteps echoing into the distance.

He’s testing me, she realized, her fingers curling into fists. But for what?

The hours bled into days, or maybe it was the other way around. The oppressive darkness of the dungeon made time feel meaningless. Y/N had nearly convinced herself that the prince’s visit had been a one-time nuisance when the sound of footsteps echoed through the corridor again.

This time, she didn’t bother pretending not to notice. She sat cross-legged in the center of the cell, her sharp gaze locked on the shadowed figure that appeared outside her door.

Eris stopped just shy of the bars, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. “Still breathing, I see,” he said, his tone almost bored.

“Disappointed?” she shot back, her voice steadier than she felt.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stepped closer, his head tilting as he studied her. “You’re not what I expected.”

“Keep saying that, and I might start to believe it’s a compliment,” she said dryly.

Eris ignored her remark, his sharp gaze cutting through the darkness like a blade. “What were you doing in Autumn, Y/N?”

Her spine stiffened. “Shouldn’t your father have figured that out by now?”

“My father has his own theories,” he said, his voice smooth as silk. “I prefer to form my own conclusions.”

She leaned forward slightly, her eyes narrowing. “And what conclusion have you come to?”

“That you’re stubborn,” he said with a faint smirk. “And reckless. But perhaps not entirely stupid.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Glad to know I’ve met your high standards.”

Eris’s smirk widened, but his amusement didn’t reach his eyes. “Tell me something, Y/N. Do you enjoy playing the part of the martyr, or is it just second nature by now?”

Her heart skipped a beat, but she didn’t let it show. “What are you talking about?”

“You came here for a reason,” he said, his voice low, almost conspiratorial. “You didn’t stumble into Autumn by accident. So, what is it? Revenge? Spite? Or something bigger?”

Y/N’s stomach twisted, but she kept her expression neutral. “What makes you think I’ll tell you anything?”

Eris stepped closer, his fingers curling around the bars. For a moment, his mask slipped, and she caught a glimpse of something darker beneath the surface.

“Because,” he said softly, “I have a feeling you and I want the same thing.”

And then, just as quickly as he had come, he was gone.

Y/N hadn’t slept. Not properly, anyway. Every creak of the dungeon, every distant sound of boots on stone, kept her on edge. She couldn’t shake the memory of Eris’s last visit—the way he had looked at her, as if he already knew her secrets. As if he was just waiting for her to confirm them.

She sat against the cold wall, her legs stretched out in front of her, when she heard the footsteps again. Slower this time. Measured.

She didn’t move, didn’t bother looking up as the familiar scent of smoke and autumn leaves drifted through the air.

“You’re persistent,” she muttered as he stopped outside her cell.

Eris chuckled softly, a sound that sent a shiver down her spine. “And you’re predictable. I’d have thought you’d be halfway to trying to escape by now.”

She finally looked up, her gaze sharp. “And give you the satisfaction of watching me fail?”

He didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he reached into his coat and pulled out a small, wrapped bundle. He tossed it through the bars, and it landed with a soft thud at her feet.

Y/N eyed it warily before unwrapping it to reveal a piece of bread and a small bottle of water. Her stomach twisted painfully, but she refused to let him see her gratitude.

“Generous of you,” she said dryly, taking a small bite.

Eris leaned casually against the bars, watching her with a faint smirk. “I need you alive, not starving.”

The words caught her off guard. She froze, the piece of bread halfway to her mouth. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he said, his tone light but his eyes serious. “Alive. Useful. That’s what you are to me.”

She set the bread down slowly, narrowing her eyes. “Care to elaborate?”

Eris stepped closer, his fingers wrapping around the cold iron bars. “I’ve been watching you. Listening. You’re not just some petty criminal with a grudge against my father. You’re smart. Resourceful. Dangerous, even.”

Y/N snorted, leaning back against the wall. “You’ve got a strange way of giving compliments.”

His smirk didn’t waver. “Call it what you want. The truth is, I need someone like you.”

She tilted her head, feigning disinterest. “For what?”

“To help me take him down.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and dangerous. Y/N stared at him, her mind racing.

“You’re joking,” she said finally, though there was no humor in her voice.

“Do I look like I’m joking?” he shot back, his tone sharp.

Y/N crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes at him. “Why should I believe you? You’re his son.”

“And you’re his enemy,” Eris said smoothly. “We have something in common.”

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “And what? You just expect me to trust you?”

“No,” he admitted, stepping back from the bars. “But I do expect you to think about what I’m offering. You can rot in this cell, or you can help me take down the High Lord of Autumn.”

Y/N’s lips curled into a cold smile. “And what’s in it for you, Prince Eris?”

He didn’t answer immediately. His amber eyes locked on hers, and for a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of something deeper—anger, resentment, maybe even pain.

“Freedom,” he said simply, his voice low. “For both of us.”

And just like that, he was gone again, leaving Y/N with more questions than answers.

The hours bled together, the oppressive silence of the dungeon broken only by the occasional drip of water or the scurry of unseen vermin. Y/N sat hunched in the corner of her cell, her fingers tracing patterns in the grime on the stone floor.

She should’ve been planning her next move, calculating her odds of survival. Instead, her mind replayed Eris’s words: "Freedom. For both of us."

The absurdity of it made her scoff under her breath. A son of Beron—freedom? The words didn’t fit together, not in any version of reality she’d ever known. She knew what the Autumn Court stood for. Knew what Beron and his ilk did to people like her.

And yet...

A faint rustling sound pulled her from her thoughts. Her eyes darted toward the source—a small, scruffy rat creeping under the bars of her cell. She tensed, prepared to scare it off, when she noticed the tiny scrap of paper tied to its leg.

Her heart skipped a beat.

The rat stopped just out of her reach, its black eyes glinting in the dim light. Slowly, deliberately, Y/N extended her hand. The rat flinched but didn’t run. She whispered soothing nonsense until she could untie the scrap of paper and the creature scurried away into the shadows.

She unfolded the note with trembling fingers, her eyes scanning the jagged, hastily scrawled words: "Stay alive. You’re not done yet. Trust no one."

The last line sent a chill down her spine. It wasn’t just a warning; it was a reminder of why she was here in the first place. The people who had sent her knew how much she had to lose—and how much she still had to gain.

But how?

Her thoughts raced as she stared at the note. The organization hadn’t abandoned her, but they didn’t seem to have a plan to get her out, either. And then there was Eris. His offer wasn’t trustable, not by a long shot. But it was a way out.

The sound of boots on stone shattered her thoughts. She crumpled the note in her fist, shoving it into her sleeve just as the familiar scent of smoke and autumn filled the air.

She didn’t need to look to know who it was.

“I see you’re still alive,” Eris drawled, his tone as casual as if they were discussing the weather.

“Disappointed?” she shot back, leaning against the wall.

His lips twitched, almost a smile. “Not yet.” He stepped closer, his amber eyes flicking over her, searching for something. “Have you thought about my offer?”

“Have you thought about giving me a reason to believe you?” she countered.

Eris tilted his head, his smirk vanishing. “I’m giving you a choice, Y/N. Rot in this cell and hope your friends care enough to come for you, or work with me and ensure Beron pays for what he’s done.”

“Work for you, you mean,” she said, narrowing her eyes.

“No,” Eris said, his voice soft but cutting. “With me. We want the same thing. You know it.”

She stared at him, her mind a storm of doubts and possibilities. The note in her sleeve seemed to burn against her skin, its warning echoing in her head.

“Why me?” she asked, her voice quieter now.

Eris leaned closer, his expression unreadable. “Because I’ve seen what you’re capable of. And because I need someone who hates him as much as I do.”

The words hit her like a blow. He wasn’t lying; she could see it in his eyes. The hatred there wasn’t for show. It was deep, consuming, and real.

She let out a slow breath, her decision forming like a blade being sharpened. “If I agree to this... you’d better keep your end of the bargain.”

His smirk returned, sharp and dangerous. “You have my word.”

“Forgive me if that’s not worth much,” she said dryly.

Eris chuckled, stepping back. “Wise of you. Now eat something. You’ll need your strength.”

With that, he was gone again, his footsteps echoing down the corridor.

Y/N leaned her head back against the wall, closing her eyes. She had made her choice. Now, all she could do was wait for whatever came next.

The days blurred together in the prison’s suffocating darkness, the stench of damp stone and rotting food mixing with the cold bite of the air. Y/N had been left alone for what felt like an eternity, only the echo of her own thoughts to keep her company. But she had never been one to let solitude break her resolve. It was a harsh ally, but one that had kept her alive this long.

Then, as abruptly as it had come, the silence was shattered.

The faintest flicker of movement in the corridor, barely perceptible even to her trained eyes, was the only warning before the door to her cell creaked open. She tensed instinctively, her senses on high alert. Was it Beron’s guards? Had they come for her, to finish what they’d started?

But no.

The figure standing in the doorway wasn’t a guard.

It was Eris.

His amber eyes gleamed with something unreadable, but his posture was calm, controlled. Too controlled. He was trying to hide something, she realized, but not quite well enough.

“You’ve come,” Y/N said, her voice low but steady.

“Did you think I’d leave you in here forever?” Eris asked, his voice laced with a sharpness she couldn’t ignore. “You’re not the only one with a plan.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What’s your plan then?”

Eris didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached into the shadows beside the door, and a small, intricately carved box appeared in his hand. He set it down on the floor with a soft thud and knelt beside it.

“I’m getting you out,” he said, his tone more serious than she’d heard it before. There was no mockery now, no games. Only the weight of his words. “But you need to trust me.”

Y/N’s instinct was to step back, to keep her distance. Trust was a currency she hadn’t traded in years. She had learned that lesson the hard way. But she knew the reality of her situation. She was running out of options.

Eris opened the box. Inside, there was a set of carefully arranged tools—thin, metallic wires, a set of blackened knives, and what looked like a small vial of liquid.

“An escape plan?” she asked, her skepticism creeping in. “You think you can just waltz in here and pull me out like it’s nothing?”

Eris’s lips curled into a cold, almost cruel smile. “It won’t be easy. But it’ll work. That’s all that matters.” He lifted the vial, swirling the contents in the dim light. “This will mask our scent. It’ll make sure we’re not tracked.”

Y/N watched him closely, still unsure. But as he worked, as he moved with practiced efficiency, she couldn’t help but feel the faintest stir of something—a fragile hope, maybe.

“You know,” she said, her voice quieter, “I didn’t expect you to come through for me.”

“Why’s that?” Eris asked, glancing up at her from his task.

“Because you’re Beron’s son,” she answered sharply. “I don’t exactly have a history of trusting people like you.”

Eris didn’t flinch. Instead, he merely offered a small, cold smile. “And yet here we are.”

Y/N wanted to push him again, wanted to question his motives further, but something in the way he moved—so sure, so confident—made her pause.

As he worked, he spoke again, his tone casual, but there was an edge to it that made her pay attention. “This isn’t just about you, Y/N. I have a score to settle, too. If you’re going to help me, I need you to keep up.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “And why would I help you?”

Eris met her gaze, his expression unreadable. “Because you want Beron to pay. And because you’ll need someone like me to get close enough to make that happen.”

She remained silent, her mind turning over his words. Trusting him felt like throwing herself into a storm, but was there really any other way out? The chains that bound her here were made of more than iron. They were made of fear, of power, of a system that held her down. But maybe—just maybe—Eris could be the key to breaking them.

A rustling sound pulled her from her thoughts. Eris had finished his preparations and was standing, holding out a dark cloak in her direction.

“You’re going to need this,” he said.

Y/N hesitated, but then the inevitability of the situation hit her. She grabbed the cloak, the fabric heavy in her hands.

The cloak weighed heavier than it should’ve, its fabric slipping over her thin shoulders like an anchor. She winced slightly, the bruises across her ribs protesting even the smallest movement. Her body felt foreign—frail, weakened from days of confinement, malnutrition, and exhaustion. But she didn’t let that show. She couldn’t afford to.

Eris, having finished his preparations, glanced over at her with a sharp eye. His gaze lingered for just a second too long on the hollowed cheeks, the sunken skin beneath her eyes, the bruises that covered her arms and legs. He was quick to mask the flicker of concern—if it had ever even been there—but Y/N caught it. His amber eyes sharpened, calculating, before he stepped toward her.

“Take it slow,” he said, his voice low, but with an authority that made her stop, turning to face him. “You’re not going anywhere if you collapse the moment we move.”

She shot him a look, irritation flickering across her face. "I’m fine."

Eris didn’t respond to her protest. Instead, he gave a sharp motion toward the small step down from the cell’s threshold. He was already behind her, close enough to catch her if she faltered. "You need rest before anything else. Trust me, you won’t last long if you push yourself."

Y/N bristled, but the fogginess in her head, the dull ache in her limbs, told her he was right. She straightened, but the dizziness made the world blur for a moment. Her stomach twisted with hunger, but there was no time for that now. She gritted her teeth, steadying herself, and finally nodded.

"Fine." She couldn’t afford to waste more time arguing.

As she took the first shaky steps toward the corridor, she barely made it two feet before her legs buckled beneath her. The floor rushed up to meet her, but before she could hit the cold stone, Eris was there, catching her with surprising gentleness for someone so accustomed to cruelty.

“Careful,” he muttered, his hands firm around her arms. She felt the heat of his touch seep into her chilled skin, and for a fleeting moment, she let herself lean into it. The steadying grip of his hands was a strange comfort in the overwhelming weakness that gnawed at her body.

She didn’t say anything, but the frustration simmered under her breath. How could she have let herself fall apart like this?

Eris didn’t let her dwell on it, though. “You’ll be stronger soon,” he added, his voice oddly soft. “But we need to move. The longer we wait, the more chance they’ll find out.”

She managed to nod, swallowing the growing lump in her throat. Slowly, she rose with his help, feeling the strength of his hold on her—he wasn’t going to let her fall, not yet. Her legs wobbled beneath her, like they hadn’t quite remembered how to carry her.

With a steady, calculating look, Eris motioned again, this time a bit more forcefully. “One step at a time. I’ll carry you if I have to.”

Y/N shook her head, stubbornness flaring. “I don’t need to be carried.” But it was a struggle to stay upright. She forced her legs to move, forcing her muscles to obey even though they were trembling beneath her.

Eris studied her for a moment longer, his eyes narrowed. Then he sighed, apparently conceding. “Alright, but if you fall again, I won’t hesitate to pick you up. Understand?”

She didn’t respond, too focused on making the next step. It was hard to concentrate through the fog of hunger and weakness that clouded her thoughts, but she willed herself forward. The corridor stretched on endlessly, the faint glow of torchlight casting long shadows on the stone walls.

She could feel the weight of Eris’s gaze behind her, watching, assessing, ready to catch her if she faltered again. And it was when she took another step, her knees shaking with effort, that the world tilted and spun violently.

Without warning, Eris was there again, his hand firm at her back, pushing her upright. "Stop. We rest here."

She wanted to protest, wanted to tell him to let her try just a little longer, but the cold truth was undeniable. She needed to rest, and Eris was right—he had been watching her, keeping track of the limits her body had reached, knowing more about her than she cared to admit.

The next few moments were a blur. Eris didn’t rush her, though his impatience was evident. He guided her to a small alcove just off the hallway, where she sank against the stone wall, her breath coming in shallow gasps.

“You should’ve taken better care of yourself,” Eris muttered, his tone a mixture of irritation and something else she couldn’t quite place.

Y/N glared up at him, but the fire in her eyes was dimmed by the sheer exhaustion flooding her system. “Not all of us have the luxury of being well-fed and pampered,” she snapped back, her voice raspy from days without proper hydration.

Eris didn’t respond, but the faintest tension in his shoulders told her he understood. He pulled a flask from his belt, offering it to her. “Drink,” he said simply, his voice softer now. “I’m not in the mood for a fight. Not now.”

Y/N hesitated, but then, her parched throat betrayed her. She took the flask, uncorking it with trembling hands. The cool liquid slid down her throat, the sensation almost painful, but welcome. It was nothing like the usual bitter, foul water they had given her in prison. This was clean, and it left a cool trail down her chest as she finished the last drop.

The flask was taken from her hands, but before Eris could say anything more, she spoke again. “I’m not going to be a burden.”

“You won’t be,” Eris replied, his tone more certain now. “You’re just... getting back on your feet. And we have a long way to go.”

The words hung in the air between them as they both looked at the dark corridor ahead. Y/N couldn’t help but wonder how much farther they would go before the walls closed in on them again. But for now, she took a steadying breath, feeling the smallest fraction of strength return to her limbs. And as she slowly pushed herself up, Eris was there, steadying her once again.

“You don’t need to thank me,” he said, as though reading her mind. “Just keep moving.”

Y/N nodded silently, her gaze steady on the path ahead. She had no other choice but to follow him, to trust this strange arrangement—for now.

The journey from the prison cell to wherever Eris was leading her felt like an eternity. Y/N’s legs burned with each step, the effort of walking still too much for her weakened body. Her stomach growled, but there was nothing she could do about it now. She had no idea where they were going—only that she couldn’t afford to stop.

They passed through narrow corridors, the walls cold and silent, as if the stone itself had been drained of warmth. Eris walked beside her, silent but watchful, his hand never far from her arm, ready to steady her if she faltered again.

The journey was slow, but eventually, they reached the end of a hidden passageway, a small wooden door tucked in the corner of a forgotten hall. Eris produced a key from inside his coat, turning it quickly in the lock and swinging the door open.

Inside was a small, dimly lit room—much like the cell, but far more comfortable. There was a bed with thick blankets, a sturdy chair by a low-burning fireplace, and a small table cluttered with remnants of food. The scent of wood and smoke filled the air, faintly mixed with the sharp tang of herbs.

Y/N barely had time to process the warmth of the room before she collapsed onto the bed, her body too drained to stand. Her head spun from the sudden movement, and she could feel the exhaustion pulling at her, the desire to rest fighting with the cold weight of reality pressing on her shoulders.

Eris closed the door quietly behind him, his footsteps light as he moved to the fireplace and stoked the embers with practiced ease. His movements were deliberate, as if he had done this many times before. For a moment, Y/N watched him, her thoughts tangled with confusion and frustration. He had helped her escape—he’d kept his word, but there was a strange tension between them now, something she couldn’t quite place.

“Sit,” he said, his tone sharp but not unkind. “I’ll get you something to eat.”

Y/N opened her mouth to protest, but the words caught in her throat. She had been given nothing but scraps for weeks, and the thought of food, even the simple fare he might offer, made her stomach twist. But she was too weak to argue, too exhausted to do anything but obey. Slowly, she leaned back against the pillows, her limbs heavy, her body craving sleep.

Eris moved with quiet efficiency, taking a small pot from the table and adding some dried herbs and a few vegetables to a broth. The smell of it wafted through the room, and Y/N's stomach twisted again, the hunger gnawing at her.

He handed her a bowl after a few moments, the steam still rising from the liquid. “It’s not much,” he said, as if trying to downplay it. “But you need something in you. Just a sip for now.”

Y/N accepted the bowl, her hands shaking slightly as she brought it to her lips. The warmth of the liquid was a comfort, and she drank slowly, savoring the taste, even though it was nothing special. It was food, and that was enough. She didn't care about anything else in that moment.

Eris watched her carefully, his amber eyes flicking from her face to the bowl. She could feel his gaze, but she refused to look up, pretending not to notice how intense it was.

Once the bowl was empty, she placed it on the side table and finally met his eyes, her voice quiet. “You never did tell me why you’re helping me. Why this? Why now?”

The question hung in the air between them, and for the first time since she had met him, Eris hesitated. He stood by the fire, the crackling sound filling the silence. He was calculating, as if considering how much to reveal.

“You’re right,” he said finally, his voice steady, but with a slight edge. “I didn’t owe you anything. But Beron’s... missteps have cost me. And I don’t take kindly to people trying to control my actions.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “So, this is about you?”

His lips curled into a small, sardonic smile. “Partially. But I can admit when I see a cause worth supporting.”

“You don’t strike me as the type who supports causes,” she muttered, her eyes narrowing. “More like the type who crushes them under his heel.”

He looked at her, a faint chuckle escaping his lips. “I don’t crush things that aren’t worth my time.”

There was an undeniable challenge in his words, but Y/N didn’t flinch. She leaned back against the pillows, closing her eyes for a moment. Her mind was starting to clear a little—at least enough to process her situation.

The tension was palpable between them. There was a quiet understanding that they both had agendas, but neither one was ready to reveal all their cards. The silence stretched on, but Y/N felt herself slipping deeper into the warmth of the bed, the exhaustion lapping at her like waves.

“You’re stronger than you look,” Eris said, his voice quieter now, almost reluctant. “I’ll give you that.”

Y/N opened one eye, catching him off guard as he turned back toward her. “I’m still here, aren’t I?” Her voice was rough, but there was something in the way she said it that conveyed both defiance and exhaustion.

Eris’ gaze softened, just for a moment, before his usual coldness returned. “You’ll make it,” he said simply, though she couldn’t tell if he was speaking about the immediate future, or something much longer.

“You’re sure about that?” Y/N scoffed, though the words felt hollow. “How much longer do I have to trust you?”

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Eris stared into the fire, as if weighing her question carefully. Finally, his voice broke the silence, low and serious. “As long as it takes for you to get stronger.”

Y/N swallowed, the weight of his words settling over her. This was more than just an escape—this was a way to get to Beron, a way to make him pay for what he had done. And whether she wanted to admit it or not, Eris was her only chance at seeing that through.

She closed her eyes, the weight of her body sinking deeper into the bed. “Then I’ll get stronger.”

Eris didn’t reply. But when she opened her eyes again, she saw him watching her, his expression unreadable.

And for the first time since this whole mess had started, Y/N allowed herself to believe that maybe—just maybe—she might survive this.

Eris stood by the fire, his posture stiff, his gaze fixed on the flames that danced in the hearth. His mind was focused—too focused—to let his thoughts wander too far. But they kept straying back to her.

Y/N.

She had barely said a word, even as she sipped the broth he had given her. She was weaker than he’d expected, but there was something in the way she held herself, even in that state, that kept pulling at the edge of his mind. It wasn’t pity—he didn’t have time for pity—but there was something undeniably interesting about her. She wasn’t the usual sort of prisoner.

She was a legend, a name whispered in every shadowy corner of the realm. A figure of rebellion and whispered rumors, loved by the lowlifes, hated by the highborn. Y/N, the outlaw, the one who had evaded capture for years. A thorn in the side of every tyrant. And yet, here she was, a broken shell of that legendary figure, lying in front of him, barely able to lift a finger.

Her beauty was not what he was used to, not the polished perfection of the court, not the subtle seduction of his family’s alliances. Hers was a rough sort of beauty, sharp and untamed, like the wilds she no doubt called home. There was an edge to her—one he couldn’t quite place. Her strength, despite her fragile state, had been apparent from the very beginning. He’d seen it in her eyes when she fought to stay conscious, even after being starved and tortured.

And yet, as she drifted into unconsciousness, Eris couldn’t help but notice the vulnerability in her that she kept buried deep. The curiosity of her origins, of the secret organization she served, of her own ambitions and secrets tugged at him in ways he quickly dismissed.

Focus.

This was not the time for distractions. His father had no knowledge of the real reason Eris had decided to bring Y/N into his plans. Beron had simply ordered the capture of the fugitive, and Eris had executed that order, which is ofcourse how that sneaky little mouse who had never been caught fell into Eris' perfectly thought out trap. But that wasn’t what mattered. What mattered was the bigger picture, the one his father would never see.

Eris had his own secret agenda. Y/N wasn’t just some weapon to him—she was the means to an end, the key to the power he sought. She could help him dismantle his father’s grip on the Autumn Court, help him carve out his own path, one where Eris alone stood as the High Lord. His father had always underestimated him, used him as nothing more than a tool in his schemes. But Eris wasn’t going to let that continue.

He had his own plans. And Y/N? She could either become an ally or an obstacle. But for now, she was useful. And that was enough.

As he watched her sleep, breathing slow and shallow, the bitter taste of their arrangement lingered in his mouth. He didn’t care what she thought of him. He didn’t need her loyalty—he needed her skills, her connections, and her rage. And in return, she needed him too. She was running from something, using him as a stepping stone to whatever end she sought, just as he was using her to gain the power he deserved.

It was a simple exchange. Nothing more. No room for distractions. Not yet, at least. But something about her—something dangerous—pulled at him. He quickly erased the thought. He had no time for curiosity. He had too much to do.

But as he stood there, the faintest trace of doubt tried to creep in, and he stamped it down hard. Y/N would play her part. They both had their roles to play. Once they had what they wanted, the game would be over, and they’d move on.

For now, though, it was all about the plan. And the plan would make him one of the most powerful Fae in the realm.

It hadn’t taken long for Beron to notice her disappearance. A matter of hours, perhaps, before the guards started to come to him with news of the empty cell. They had all seen her locked away. But no one had seen her leave.

Eris could already hear the furious shouting echoing from the halls, his father’s rage pouring out like a tidal wave.

“Where is she?” Beron’s voice had thundered through the manor. “She cannot simply vanish. Find her, and bring her back, dead or alive!”

Eris remained silent, his face a mask of impassivity, even as he listened to the chaos unfold. His father was a fool if he thought it would be that simple. No one escaped the dungeons of his stronghold without help.

But then again, Beron had never been known for his intelligence. He was a beast—brute force and violence were his go-to methods. Subtlety was not his strength. It had always been Eris who managed the quiet manipulations, the behind-the-scenes dealings that ensured the Autumn Court stayed in power. And now, with Y/N gone, Eris knew it was his job to keep everything under control before his father tore the entire palace apart looking for her.

Eris made his way to the throne room, the air thick with tension. Guards scrambled, shouting orders, their voices raised in panic as they searched the castle. His father’s voice was the loudest, but Eris could sense the undercurrent of fear, of uncertainty, running through his father’s normally domineering tone. Beron was furious, but there was something else there too—a touch of something deeper. Something he’d never admit.

Eris didn’t need to worry about that. His role was simple.

“Father,” Eris said smoothly as he entered the room, his voice calm and controlled, as if there wasn’t a care in the world. His cold eyes flicked over to the soldiers rushing past, the frantic looks on their faces. “I’ve already sent out a team to handle it.”

Beron whipped his head toward him, his anger radiating off him like a storm. “A team? We need to find her now, before she gets away!”

Eris’ lips curled into a slight, almost imperceptible smile. “You overestimate the threat she poses. Y/N is a problem, yes, but she is also a legend—there is more to her disappearance than a simple escape. Whoever is helping her will make a mistake. They always do. We just need to wait.”

His father was not convinced. His thick brows furrowed, and he opened his mouth to argue, but Eris cut him off.

“We’ll find her, Father. But we’ll do it with precision. Not brute force. You’ll just make things worse.” His tone didn’t rise. It was a quiet, almost detached warning, but it was enough to make Beron hesitate.

Eris’ gaze flicked to the soldiers gathered around, still frantically searching for any trace of her. There was no need to rush. He knew exactly where Y/N was—and he wasn't about to rat her out.

Eris turned to his father, who was still seething. “Calm down. We’ll get her back, but we need to be strategic. I’ll take care of this.”

Beron’s face twisted in frustration, but he relented, nodding sharply. “Fine. Do what you must. But if you fail, it will be you answering for it.”

The threat in his father’s voice was unmistakable, but Eris didn’t flinch. He had long ago stopped fearing Beron. In fact, he used it. Everything had its place. And Y/N? She was a tool—a means to an end.

With a final glance toward the doorway, Eris turned and left the room, his cold mask firmly back in place.

As he walked through the halls, his thoughts turned back to Y/N. He still couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more to her—a deeper layer to the rebel who had fought for the lowborn and outrun every other High Fae in the land. But he couldn’t afford to care.

Not yet.

He would use her. And then, when the time was right, he’d destroy her. Just like everyone else who had been foolish enough to stand in his way.

But for now, he would play the game. Keep things calm. Keep the mask intact. And when the time came, when the last piece of this puzzle fell into place, he would have the power he sought.

And maybe, just maybe, he’d learn exactly what kind of legend Y/N really was.

The small room had become her refuge. For the first time in weeks, the dim light of the torch didn’t feel like a threat, but a sign of safety. The bruises on her body were healing, though the pain still lingered, reminding her of the endless days in that wretched prison. Her muscles ached as she slowly stretched her limbs, trying to ignore the tightness of her chest.

Eris had sent food every night—fresh bread, fruit, and meat—though she never once saw him deliver it himself. Perhaps, he felt like he had shown enough of himself the first time he brought her here. Sometimes she wondered if he even cared that she ate or if it was all just part of the plan, a move to keep her alive long enough for whatever game he was playing to unfold. She’d been fed, rested, and given a place to breathe, but she never let herself forget the price she was paying for all of it.

She had no illusions. Eris wasn’t helping her because he cared. He was helping her because he needed her. But in that moment, with a half-empty plate of food resting beside her, she couldn't help but let her guard down just a little. She had been alone for so long—torn between running and staying, trapped in a cage of her own making. Eris, with his cold, calculating eyes and cruel smile, had forced his way into her life in a way no one had before.

But now… now, she was stronger. Not fully healed, but enough to stand on her own. She could feel the strength returning in her bones, the fire that had burned within her when she first started this fight slowly rekindling. She was no longer the broken fugitive hidden away in the shadows. She was Y/N, the outlaw with a name that made people tremble and the power to bring kings to their knees. And it was time to put that power to use.

The door creaked open, and she didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Eris entered without a word, his presence filling the room like a dark cloud. He was silent as always, as cold and controlled as the iron in his veins. She could hear the faint sound of his boots against the stone floor, but she didn’t move. Not yet.

“Feeling better?” His voice was low, calculating. His eyes studied her carefully, no doubt searching for any sign of weakness. But she didn’t let him see it.

“Does it matter?” she replied, the edge of defiance creeping into her voice. The truth was, she didn’t care if he noticed how fragile she still felt. She was done with pretending.

He paused for a moment, his lips curling into a faint smirk. “It matters,” he said quietly, his eyes flicking over her with something almost like… approval. She quickly dismissed the thought. She wasn’t here for his approval.

“Your plan,” she said, breaking the silence. “What’s the next step?” Her tone was cool, but she could feel her heart hammering in her chest. She wasn’t entirely sure she was ready to hear what he had to say, but the sooner she did, the sooner she could make a decision.

Eris stepped closer, his gaze never leaving hers. She could see the glint of something dark in his eyes, a quiet power that sent a shiver down her spine. “You’ll be a part of it,” he said. “The key to everything I’m planning.”

She met his gaze, her own expression hardening. “I’m listening.”

He didn’t speak immediately. Instead, he simply watched her, his thoughts unreadable. Then, at last, he spoke again. “We both have a common enemy: my precious father, Beron.”

Her jaw clenched at the mention of Beron’s name. The man who had ruined everything. The man who had taken her family from her. The one who had put her in that damn prison in the first place.

She swallowed the bitterness rising in her throat, forcing herself to focus on Eris. “You want to kill him?” The words tasted like acid in her mouth, but she kept her gaze steady.

Eris’ eyes gleamed with something dangerous. “Not just kill him. I want to take everything he has, strip him of his power, his title, and make him see who really deserves the throne.”

A shudder of unease ran down her spine, but she refused to show it. She had no love for Beron, and she would see him pay. But Eris? He was a different kind of monster, one she didn’t fully understand. She had learned to trust no one in her time as an outlaw, but this—this was more than just revenge. This was a game, a dangerous one where neither of them could afford to lose.

“And you think I’ll help you?” she asked, her voice hard, though there was a small edge of uncertainty beneath her calm exterior.

Eris’ smirk widened, dark and knowing. “You’ll help me because you need me, just as much as I need you.”

Y/N remained silent, staring into his eyes. She didn’t like it, the way he was so certain of her. But deep down, she knew he was right. They were both using each other—she just hadn’t admitted it yet.

“So,” he continued, voice smooth and deliberate. “What’s your answer?”

Her fingers tightened into fists, her nails digging into her palm. She could feel the weight of the decision settling over her, but there was no hesitation in her mind. She had nothing left to lose, and Eris—despite all his cruelty—was offering her a way to finally take control of her life again.

She looked up at him, eyes cold. “I’m in.”

The plan Eris laid out was very complex. Add to it some of the ideas Y/N thought of, and you had yourself a large pot of... well, everything. A complex and risky, but also very structured and specific plan.

Eris stood before her, his dark eyes calculating as he laid out the foundation of their scheme. Every move, every word had a purpose, a role to play. But as Y/N listened, she couldn’t help but feel the weight of the whole thing—the risks, the challenges, the unspoken consequences. Nothing about this was easy. And it wouldn’t be until Beron was dead that she could truly breathe.

"Let’s start simple," Eris’ voice was steady, giving nothing away. "We’ll use your connection to the common folk. They trust you—more than anyone realizes."

Y/N didn’t need to hear the rest of the plan to know where this was going. Her reputation had spread like wildfire in every village, town, and city. She was a ghost, a whisper in the shadows, always just out of reach of every venomous tyrants grasp, including Beron. The lowlives, the outcasts, the ones the high courts ignored—they revered her. She had once stood for them, fought for them. And now, in her hidden exile, they still remembered her name.

"And how do we use that?" she asked, leaning back in her chair, her fingers tapping against the stone tabletop. Her thoughts were a whirlwind. "I’m hiding from Beron’s men, Eris. And you think a few whispered words from those filthy peasants are enough to move the needle? No offense, but that’s a shortcut I’m not willing to take."

Eris didn’t flinch at her criticism. His smirk remained, cold and unreadable. "We need allies. People in the right places, ready to fight when the time comes. It’s not just about what you did in the past, Y/N. It’s about what you can get them to do for us now. A rebellion, a force ready to rise, led by those you trust."

A rebellion. A revolt. It was just a word, but it carried the weight of an entire revolution in its syllables. Y/N narrowed her eyes. "And what do you expect from me? A few promises and speeches? I’m not about to throw my life away for another failed cause."

Eris’ eyes locked with hers. "I’m not asking you to. But you’re more than a symbol. You’re the spark that will ignite this fire. A revolt is meaningless without someone who has the courage to lead it. Someone who has already proven they can outsmart Beron’s forces at every turn."

Y/N studied him, the weight of his words sinking in. He wasn’t wrong. The common folk wouldn’t follow just anyone—they’d follow her. But leading them into a rebellion against Beron wasn’t something she could take lightly. She’d seen the kind of devastation his wrath could bring. She would need more than just words; she’d need a plan that couldn’t fail.

"I’m listening," she said, crossing her arms. "What else?"

Eris glanced around, as if making sure no one was listening, then began to lay out the next part of the plan, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

"We start by infiltrating Beron’s inner circle. I’ll get close to him—closer than anyone realizes. He trusts me, perhaps too much." A dark glint flashed in his eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. "We’ll gather information, figure out where he’s vulnerable. We expose his weaknesses—his alliances, his secrets—and we use them against him. We have to break him from the inside."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "And how do we do that? You’re talking about walking into the lion’s den, Eris. What makes you think he’ll let you so close?"

Eris gave a small shrug. "He doesn’t have a choice. I’m his son, and I’m the one who will inherit his power. He won’t suspect me—not until it’s too late. I’ve been biding my time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike."

Y/N’s thoughts whirred as she processed the information. The idea of Eris using his place as Beron’s son to get close enough to take him down wasn’t a bad one—if it worked. But there were too many unknowns, too many variables. She wasn’t about to bet everything on a chance.

"You’re underestimating the danger here," Y/N said, her voice low. "You’re playing with fire. Even if you get close to him, that doesn’t guarantee we’ll have a clean shot at him. Beron is dangerous. And you’re not the only one who’s waited a long time for this."

Eris stepped closer, his gaze sharp, unwavering. "I’m not underestimating anything, Y/N. But you’re right. We need to be strategic. I’ll play the role of the dutiful son for now, keeping Beron distracted. Meanwhile, you’ll move in the shadows, gathering support. You know the people, the ones who are sick of Beron’s reign. Find them, recruit them, and keep them ready. The moment Beron falls, the rebellion will rise with him."

Y/N frowned, thinking carefully. "And where do we go from there?"

Eris didn’t hesitate. "Once we have Beron in a vulnerable position, we strike. We take him out, publicly. We make sure it’s loud, impossible to ignore. We destroy his reputation, expose his crimes. And when his power crumbles, we move quickly—cutting down his supporters, his key figures, anyone who can replace him. We leave no room for anyone else to step into his shoes."

She absorbed this quietly, still not convinced. "And you expect me to do all of that while hiding from Beron’s men? You’re asking me to risk my life for your game, Eris. You know how this goes. The moment they realize I’m back, they won’t stop until they have me."

Eris didn’t flinch. "We will make sure they don’t find you. You will be our shadow, Y/N, hidden in plain sight. If they don’t know where to look, they can’t find you."

Her mind raced. There were too many steps, too many risks. But there was no turning back now, was there? She had already walked too far down this path. Beron was her enemy, and if this was the only way to get close enough to destroy him, then she would have to play along.

"I still don’t trust you," she said, her voice biting, though she knew it was mostly for show. "But I’ll play your game. For now. Don’t get comfortable, though, Eris. I don’t answer to anyone."

Eris gave her a cold smile, the faintest glimmer of something dangerous in his eyes. "You will answer to me, Y/N. Eventually. But for now, let’s just get the job done. After Beron’s gone, we can sort out the rest."

Y/N stood at the edge of the makeshift camp, the firelight flickering across her face as the shadows of the rebels gathered around her. The weight of the task ahead pressed down on her chest, the constant hum of fear and uncertainty gnawing at her. She wasn’t sure what she expected when she first set out to rebuild this rebellion, but it wasn’t this. Not this.

"Who are these people?" she muttered under her breath, glancing at the ragtag group of disheveled faces before her. Some looked hopeful, some terrified. Others just seemed like they were here out of necessity, their eyes glinting with a mixture of desperation and defiance. Y/N had never been a leader, had never wanted to be, but here she was, thrust into the role by sheer circumstance.

A young man, no older than twenty, stood at the front of the group, his hands twitching at his sides, looking every bit the part of a soldier who had never seen battle. "You told us we were going to fight Beron," he said, his voice wavering with uncertainty. "But we’re not prepared for this. We don’t have the strength. We don’t have the resources. And—" He cut himself off, eyes darting to the others as if gauging their reactions. "Some of us aren’t sure it’s worth it."

Y/N’s eyes narrowed as she studied him, her mind racing. She hadn’t expected this much resistance, but there it was, in the raw form of human doubt. "You think I don’t know that?" she said sharply, stepping forward to meet his gaze. "You think I’ve been waiting for this moment, for years, with nothing but hopes and dreams?" She shook her head, bitterness creeping into her voice. "We’re not waiting for a miracle. We’re making one."

The young man’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t reply. His hesitance was the same as the others’—an undercurrent of fear that Y/N knew all too well. It was the same fear that had kept her hidden for so long. The same fear that had kept them all under Beron’s thumb.

But there was no time for that now. Not when every second counted.

She turned away from the group and walked over to one of the quieter rebels, a woman with a scar running across her cheek, a battle-worn look to her eyes. "I need to know who else we can trust. Who’s ready to move."

The woman hesitated, her eyes flicking to the others, her voice low. "They’re not all ready to act. Some are too scared, others… some have family in Beron’s courts. They won’t risk everything just to see him fall."

Y/N clenched her fists, frustration boiling beneath her skin. "Damn it. This is our only chance. If they’re not with us, then they’re against us."

The woman’s eyes softened with sympathy, but she didn’t argue. "I’ll talk to them. See who’s willing to join your cause."

Y/N nodded, though doubt lingered in the back of her mind. She needed more than just the willing; she needed those who wouldn’t hesitate, those who would see this through to the end.

And that’s where Eris came in. Back at the palace, Eris was playing his own dangerous game. He’d become adept at walking the fine line between being the son his father wanted and the traitor he had every intention of becoming. For weeks, he had been spending more time with Beron, attending meetings, walking through the halls of his father’s estate with the air of the loyal heir, while secretly sowing the seeds of rebellion.

But as the days passed, Eris could feel the pressure mounting. He could feel Beron’s eyes on him more often, could sense the unease growing in the air around them. Beron was a cautious man, and for all his arrogance, he wasn’t blind. He could see the cracks in the façade, and Eris knew it wouldn’t be long before his father began questioning his loyalty.

"I know what you’re doing, Eris." The voice, low and venomous, broke through his thoughts as he sat in the grand dining hall, pretending to savor his meal. His father’s voice was always like that—sharp, full of hidden threats.

Eris didn’t flinch. He didn’t let his gaze waver from his plate. "I have no idea what you’re talking about, Father."

Beron’s eyes narrowed, his voice lowering. "You think I can’t see it? You are my son, Eris Vanserra. You’ve been distant, more so than usual. You’ve been... careful. Too careful. What are you hiding from me?"

Eris forced a smile, keeping his posture relaxed, but every muscle in his body was tense, ready for the slightest sign of danger. "You’re imagining things, Father. I’m as loyal as I’ve always been."

The silence between them stretched for a heartbeat too long. Eris could feel the weight of Beron’s gaze upon him, and for a moment, he feared the mask would slip, revealing the truth behind his carefully constructed lies.

But then Beron simply grunted, dismissing the conversation as though it were nothing more than a passing annoyance. "Don’t disappoint me, Eris. You have the world at your feet. Don’t squander it."

They met at some random tavern in the lowest part of Autumn. Y/N’s patience was wearing thin. The male she was supposed to meet was late, a complication she didn’t need. Every passing minute felt like a risk. She had to keep moving, keep finding people she could trust—if they existed at all.

Then, finally, the door creaked open, and a tall figure stepped inside. The hood of his cloak was pulled low over his face, but the way his eyes scanned the room told her everything she needed to know. It was Eris.

“Do you always like to make an entrance?” Y/N asked, her voice laced with sarcasm as she moved toward him. She was irritated, her patience already stretched thin with the weight of her mission.

Eris gave a small shrug, his lips curling into a half-smirk. “I like to keep people on their toes.”

She didn’t return his smile. "You’re late.”

“Not by much,” he said, dropping into the seat across from her. “And I’ve brought something that might make up for it.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow but didn’t speak. She was tired of his games, but the truth was, she needed him. As much as she disliked it, they were tied together by necessity.

“What’s the news?” she asked, leaning forward, her fingers tapping on the table impatiently.

Eris glanced around, his voice lowering to a murmur. “Beron’s becoming suspicious. He’s watching me more closely. The façade is wearing thin. But I have a plan. We need to move quickly.”

Y/N’s interest piqued. “Move quickly? Why? What’s your plan?”

Eris leaned in, his gaze sharp. “We need more leverage. I’ve been playing my part, keeping Beron distracted. And through getting closer with his inner circle, I managed to manipulate them into saying some things that I never even knew about. There’s one thing he holds close—something he’s kept hidden for years. I need to get to it. We’ll use it to put him in a position where he has no choice but to fall. But to do that, we need to leave the city. We need to get close to the human lands.”

Y/N’s brows furrowed in confusion. “The human lands? What does that have to do with your plan?”

Eris hesitated for a moment, his eyes calculating. “Beron has kept a secret. Something he’s been hiding even from me. It’s in a remote location, not far from the border. I can’t afford to let anyone else get to it first. Once I have it, I’ll have the leverage I need to make my move. But getting there will be dangerous. We’ll need to stay off Beron’s radar. That’s where you come in.”

Y/N considered his words carefully. “You want me to help you get this… whatever it is? Why should I trust you?”

Eris met her gaze, unwavering. “Because this is bigger than both of us. If we don’t do this now, we lose our chance. You’ll get the rebellion you want, and I’ll get what I need to bring Beron down.”

There was a heavy silence between them. Y/N’s mind raced, weighing the risks. She didn’t trust Eris, not entirely, but she had no other choice. The rebellion needed action, and this could be their opportunity.

“Fine,” she said finally, standing up. “But we do this my way. We stick to the plan, no deviations. I won’t risk my people for your secrets.”

Eris stood as well, his lips curling into a faint, almost amused smile. “Agreed. But don’t forget—this is as much about you as it is about me. We leave right this second."

Y/N didn’t respond, her mind already shifting into action. They had a long road ahead of them, and the stakes were higher than either of them could imagine.

As they stepped out into the night, the tension between them was palpable. They weren’t allies—they were tools, using each other to reach their separate goals. But for now, it was enough. And with that uneasy understanding hanging in the air, they moved toward the wilds, where the next phase of their plans would unfold.

The Wilds loomed like a beast on the horizon—dense, untamed, and brimming with the unknown. The sun barely pierced through the thick canopy, casting everything in shades of green and gray. Y/N adjusted her cloak, her sharp gaze scanning the path ahead. Every step they took felt heavier, as though the forest itself wanted to swallow them whole.

“This better be worth it,” she muttered, breaking the silence.

Eris, a few paces behind, gave a low chuckle. “Do you think I enjoy trudging through this forsaken wilderness? I assure you, I’d much rather be sipping wine in my father’s halls, pretending to care about his ridiculous court.”

Y/N shot him a sharp look over her shoulder. “You mean pretending to care while you’re plotting his demise.”

He grinned, unbothered by her barb. “Exactly.”

The tension between them hung thick in the air, unspoken but always present. This was no partnership of trust—it was an alliance of necessity. And yet, despite her better judgment, Y/N found herself begrudgingly impressed by Eris’s unshakable composure. Even out here, in the heart of nowhere, he carried himself as if the world still revolved around him.

“Quiet,” Y/N whispered suddenly, her hand shooting up to halt him.

Eris frowned but obeyed, his sharp ears straining. At first, there was nothing but the rustle of leaves and the distant call of some unseen creature. Then it came—a faint, rhythmic sound, too deliberate to be the wind.

Footsteps.

Y/N crouched, motioning for Eris to do the same. They pressed themselves against a moss-covered boulder, their breaths shallow. The footsteps grew louder, accompanied by low voices.

“They’re close,” one of the voices said, gruff and laced with urgency. “Keep searching. They couldn’t have gone far.”

Beron’s men.

Y/N’s grip tightened on the hilt of her dagger. She glanced at Eris, whose expression was unreadable, save for the faint tightening of his jaw. He leaned closer, his voice a whisper. “We can’t let them find us.”

“No kidding,” Y/N shot back under her breath. “Got a brilliant plan, or are we winging it?”

He gave her a thin smile. “Follow my lead.”

Before she could argue, Eris stood, his movements impossibly silent for someone so tall. He raised a hand, and the air around him shimmered. The faintest flicker of flame sparked in his palm before extinguishing. A diversion.

The forest came alive in an instant. Flames burst to life in the distance, licking at the trees, crackling and snapping. The guards’ shouts turned panicked as they rushed toward the sudden inferno.

“What the hell are you doing?” Y/N hissed, tugging at his sleeve.

“Giving them something to worry about,” Eris replied smoothly, his voice calm even as chaos erupted around them. “Now, move.”

They slipped through the underbrush, their steps quick and precise. The smoke was thick, curling through the air and masking their escape. Y/N could hear the men yelling, their voices growing fainter as the fire drove them farther away.

They didn’t stop until the sounds had faded completely. When they finally paused, Y/N rounded on him, her face flushed with frustration.

“Are you insane?” she demanded. “You could’ve burned the whole forest down!”

Eris shrugged, utterly nonchalant. “I controlled it. You’re welcome, by the way.”

She glared at him, her chest heaving. “You’re reckless.”

“And you’re dramatic,” he countered, brushing ash off his sleeve. “We’re alive, aren’t we?”

Before she could retort, a deep, guttural growl cut through the air. Both of them froze, their eyes snapping to the shadows ahead. Slowly, the figure emerged—a massive, wolf-like creature with glowing yellow eyes and razor-sharp teeth. It snarled, its hackles raised, and Y/N felt her blood run cold.

“Tell me that was part of your plan,” she murmured.

“For once,” Eris said, his voice tight, “I’m as surprised as you are.”

The beast lunged.

Y/N rolled to the side, her dagger flashing as she slashed at the creature’s flank. Eris summoned fire, his hands blazing as he threw a wall of flame between them and the beast. But the creature was fast, far faster than either of them anticipated. It circled them, its movements fluid, predatory.

“Great,” Y/N said, dodging another attack. “First your father’s goons, now this. You really know how to pick a route.”

Eris didn’t reply, his focus on the beast. He lashed out with another burst of fire, forcing it back. “Stay close,” he said, his tone uncharacteristically serious.

Y/N’s eyes narrowed, but she obeyed, falling into step beside him. They moved as one, circling the creature, their movements coordinated despite their earlier bickering.

Finally, with a combined effort—a well-placed dagger strike and a surge of fire—the beast fell, its massive form collapsing with a final, guttural snarl. Y/N leaned against a tree, catching her breath, while Eris extinguished the remaining flames around them.

“Next time,” Y/N said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “remind me to let you take the lead.”

Eris smirked, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “You’d be lost without me.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. The truth was, as much as she hated to admit it, they worked well together. Begrudgingly well.

As they continued deeper into the Wilds, the tension between them remained, simmering beneath the surface. They had a destination—a secret to uncover and a kingdom to upend—but the road ahead was treacherous, and neither could predict what awaited them in the shadows.

Eris pressed forward, his boots crunching against the leaf-strewn path. The Wilds were relentless—uneven terrain, thorny underbrush, and no sign of civilization for miles. He glanced back briefly to make sure Y/N was still following. She was, though her steps had grown slower, her movements heavier.

She muttered something under her breath—likely another colorful insult aimed at him.

Good. If she still had the energy to be annoyed, then she wasn’t entirely falling apart.

He kept his focus ahead, ignoring the uncomfortable twist in his gut. Guilt was a foreign feeling, one he wasn’t inclined to entertain. This alliance wasn’t built on kindness, and Y/N knew that. She was a tool, just as he was a tool to her.

Or so he told himself.

Behind him, her footsteps faltered.

“Eris,” she said, her voice sharp, though tinged with exhaustion.

He didn’t stop.

“Eris.”

This time, there was a distinct edge to her tone, one that brooked no argument. He sighed, coming to an abrupt halt.

“What now?” he asked, turning to face her.

Y/N stood a few feet away, her hands braced on her knees as she glared up at him. “I can’t feel my legs.”

“That’s dramatic, even for you.”

“I’m serious,” she shot back, straightening. “We’ve been walking for hours without a break. My legs are staging a rebellion. Either we stop, or I collapse, and you can carry me the rest of the way.”

Eris raised an eyebrow. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

She scowled, but the corners of her mouth twitched, betraying her amusement. “Your choice, red.”

Red. The nickname grated on him, but there was something oddly endearing about the way she said it—like she wanted to annoy him but didn’t quite hate him enough to mean it.

“Fine,” he said with an exaggerated sigh. “Five minutes.”

“Ten.”

“Seven, and not a second longer.”

She smirked, clearly pleased with herself, and plopped down on a nearby rock. Eris leaned against a tree, watching her as she pulled a flask from her cloak and took a long sip.

“You’re not as invincible as you like to pretend,” she remarked, her tone casual but her eyes sharp.

Eris folded his arms, his gaze narrowing. “And you’re not as delicate as you pretend to be.”

“I’m not pretending.” She grinned, stretching her legs out in front of her. “I’m openly complaining.”

He shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite himself. She had a way of disarming him, of slipping past the walls he kept so carefully constructed. It was infuriating.

“You’re impossible,” he said.

“And yet, here we are,” she replied, her tone light but her gaze lingering on him.

Eris looked away, focusing on the distant trees. The silence between them stretched, not uncomfortable but charged with something unspoken.

He didn’t want to acknowledge the way her presence affected him, the way her laughter seemed to carve cracks into his carefully built facade. She was a means to an end. That was all.

But then there were moments like this—quiet, unguarded moments that made him question everything.

“Why do you keep going?” Y/N asked suddenly, her voice soft.

Eris turned back to her, startled by the question.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she said, tilting her head to the side, “you could’ve found someone else to help with your little rebellion. Someone easier to work with, less… annoying.”

Eris smirked. “True, but where’s the fun in that?”

She rolled her eyes, but he caught the faint flush of color on her cheeks.

The truth was, he didn’t have an answer for her. Or rather, he had an answer, but he wasn’t ready to admit it—not to her, and certainly not to himself.

Instead, he pushed off the tree and extended a hand to her. “Break’s over. Let’s move.”

She eyed his hand suspiciously. “You’re being awfully nice. What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” he said, though he knew it wasn’t entirely true. There was always a catch.

Reluctantly, she took his hand, her touch warm despite the chill in the air. He pulled her to her feet, her balance unsteady for a moment before she found her footing.

“Careful,” he said, his voice quieter than he intended.

She looked up at him, something flickering in her eyes that he couldn’t quite place. For a brief, maddening moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of them.

Then she smirked and let go of his hand. “Try to keep up, red.”

Eris watched as she strode ahead, her steps light despite her earlier complaints. He shook his head, a wry smile playing at his lips.

She was going to be the death of him.

And for reasons he couldn’t yet understand, he didn’t entirely mind.

Y/N trudged along behind Eris, her patience worn thinner than the soles of her boots. It had already been a day! “How much longer, red? Or are you leading us in circles to enjoy my delightful company?”

Eris didn’t glance back. His stride remained purposeful, his shoulders set like iron. “Keep up, Y/N. Complaining won’t make the journey shorter.”

She threw her hands up in frustration. “You said we were heading to the human lands, Eris! But this doesn’t feel like the direction of any border I’ve ever heard of. In fact, it feels like we’re headed straight into a trap. Are you sure you’re not trying to kill me yourself?”

His sharp laugh echoed through the trees, though it held no warmth. “If I wanted you dead, darling, you’d already be feeding the crows.”

“Charming,” she muttered, her legs burning from the unrelenting pace. “Seriously, where are we even going? Or do you just enjoy keeping me in the dark?”

“Enough, Y/N,” Eris snapped, his voice low but laced with a rare bite. He suddenly halted, turning to fix her with a glare that could’ve seared through stone. “We’re here.”

Y/N froze, blinking at him. “What do you mean we’re—” Her words trailed off as she took in their surroundings.

The dense forest had parted to reveal a lake that seemed to shimmer with an unnatural stillness. Mist curled above its black surface like fingers reaching toward the sky. The air felt colder here, heavy with an ancient weight that pressed down on her chest.

And then it hit her. The stories. The whispers of a place where no mortal—or immortal—dared to tread.

“This… this is Koschei’s lake,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Her gaze snapped to Eris. “What the hell are we doing here? I thought we were going to the human lands!”

Eris smirked, though his golden eyes glinted with something darker. “Plans change.”

“You arrogant ass,” Y/N hissed, stepping closer to jab a finger at his chest. “You dragged me all the way out here without so much as a warning, and now you expect me to just—what? Stand here while you make a deal with a god?”

“Precisely.”

Her jaw dropped. “You’ve lost your mind.”

“Perhaps,” Eris said coolly, brushing past her to approach the edge of the lake. “But unlike you, I have a plan. So, if you’re done whining, stay quiet and let me handle this.”

Y/N opened her mouth to retort, but the air shifted—an icy ripple that sent shivers racing down her spine.

From the depths of the lake, a figure began to form. Black water dripped from his skeletal frame, his hollow eyes glowing faintly as he emerged. Koschei’s presence was suffocating, his voice a silken whisper that seemed to come from everywhere at once.

“Well, well,” the Death God said, his lips curling into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “The fox prince graces my domain. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Eris’s mask of calm didn’t falter, though Y/N could see the slight tension in his jaw. “I have come to ask for your assistance.”

Koschei chuckled, a sound that sent ripples through the lake. “Assistance always comes with a price, princeling. Are you prepared to pay it?”

Y/N tensed, her hand drifting to her dagger as she cast a wary glance at Eris. Whatever he’d brought her here for, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

And as Koschei’s gaze slid to her, cold and calculating, she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were walking a very thin line—one wrong move away from ruin.

The cold bite of Koschei’s presence wrapped around Eris like a noose tightening by the second. The Death God stood motionless, his hollow eyes fixed on Eris, assessing, calculating.

Eris forced himself to maintain a calm demeanor. The mask was second nature by now, even as his instincts screamed at him to turn and run. But there was too much at stake—his plans, his court, his people’s future.

And then there was Y/N.

“I seek information,” Eris said, his voice steady but firm. “A secret held by Beron Vanserra. I believe you have it.”

Koschei tilted his head, his lips curving into a cruel smile. “Many secrets pass through my waters, fox prince. Why should I part with one so precious?”

Y/N, standing just behind Eris, shifted uneasily. He could sense her discomfort even without looking.

“Because,” Eris continued, his tone sharper now, “you’d benefit from Beron’s downfall. A weakened Autumn Court is a weakened Prythian.”

Koschei chuckled darkly. “You think I care for your petty court politics?”

Eris clenched his jaw. “I’m offering you an opportunity to tilt the balance in your favor.”

Koschei stepped closer, his presence oppressive. “And what do you offer in return? Surely you didn’t come to my lake empty-handed.”

The god’s gaze flicked to Y/N, who froze under his scrutiny.

Eris’s heartbeat quickened, though his face betrayed nothing. “What I offer is my business. Name your terms.”

Koschei’s smile widened. “Oh, I’ve already decided. Give me her.” He gestured to Y/N.

The world seemed to tilt. For a moment, Eris’s mind blanked.

“What?” Y/N breathed, her voice barely audible.

Koschei ignored her, his attention on Eris. “Wasn’t that why you brought her here in the first place, princeling? To trade her for the secret you so desperately desire?”

Eris felt his stomach drop. The god’s words pierced him like a blade, and for once, his mask slipped.

Y/N’s gasp cut through the silence. “You—what?”

Eris swallowed hard, his thoughts racing. “That wasn’t the arrangement.”

Koschei’s laughter echoed across the lake. “You’re lying to yourself, Eris Vanserra. The girl was always a tool, wasn’t she? But now…” The god’s smile turned mocking. “Now you hesitate. How quaint.”

“I need time,” Eris said quickly, his voice sharper than he intended.

Koschei raised a brow. “Time? You want me to wait?”

“Yes,” Eris said, his tone firm despite the chaos in his mind. “Twenty-four hours. I’ll return with an answer.”

The Death God considered him for a long, agonizing moment before finally nodding. “Very well. But if you fail to return, know this: I will find you both.”

With that, Koschei disappeared into the mist, leaving the air cold and suffocating in his wake.

Eris turned to Y/N, but before he could speak, she glared at him with such fury that he almost flinched.

“What the hell, Eris?”

“Not here,” he snapped, grabbing her arm. “We need to move. Now.”

The crackling fire cast flickering shadows across the small clearing, but it did nothing to thaw the icy tension hanging between them. Y/N paced back and forth, her movements sharp and frantic. Her hands trembled, the fury in her blood barely contained. Whether her trembling was from rage, fear, or a mix of both, she couldn’t say.

“You lied to me!” she spat, her voice cutting through the still night like a blade. She didn’t stop pacing, her steps growing faster with every word. “You—you brought me here as some…some bargaining chip?” Her laugh was sharp, humorless, a sound borne of disbelief and betrayal. “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you. I knew it. I should’ve known better than to trust a Vanserra.”

Eris sat on a fallen log, his usual regal posture diminished as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, head in his hands. His fiery hair glinted in the firelight, a crown of embers atop a face twisted with frustration and something dangerously close to guilt. When he finally lifted his head, his golden eyes met hers with a storm of conflicting emotions—anger, shame, and something else she couldn’t quite place.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” he said, his voice low, almost too quiet to hear over the crackle of the flames.

“Oh, so you admit it then?” she shot back, stopping in her tracks to glare at him. “You admit you were planning to trade me to that monster?”

“I thought I could do it,” Eris snapped, the intensity in his tone enough to make her flinch, though she refused to show it. He shot to his feet, his height and presence suddenly looming as he closed the distance between them. “At first, I thought it would be simple. But now…” He faltered, raking a hand through his hair. His voice dropped again, rough and frayed at the edges. “It shouldn’t have been this hard.”

Her throat tightened, and for a moment, her rage was overtaken by the sting of betrayal. “I hate you,” she said, her voice breaking despite her best efforts to keep it steady.

Eris recoiled as if she’d struck him, but his recovery was swift. His jaw tightened, and his expression twisted into something cold, almost cruel. “You’re blaming me?” he hissed, his golden eyes burning with a new kind of fire. “You’re blaming me when we both know this isn’t one-sided? We were both using each other, Y/N.”

“Excuse me?” Her voice rose, the incredulity and anger in her chest threatening to burst.

“What about your little organization?” he continued, each word sharper than the last. He took a step closer, his gaze locking onto hers. “Were you planning to rat me out to them the second this was over? Or were you just going to kill me under their orders?”

Her breath hitched, and for a brief moment, she froze. That hesitation was all he needed to press on.

“That’s not—” she started, but he cut her off.

“You’re no better than me,” he said, his voice colder now, though she caught the slight waver in it. “So don’t stand there and act like you’re some righteous martyr when you’re just as manipulative and ruthless as I am.”

Something inside her snapped. “You don’t know anything about me!” she shouted, her voice cracking with the force of her anger. “You don’t know what I’ve been through or what I’ve sacrificed to even be here.”

“Then tell me,” Eris demanded, his tone softer but no less intense. He took another step closer, towering over her now. “Because all I see is someone who’s as willing to play dirty as I am.”

The fire between them seemed to dim, the tension thick enough to choke. Y/N clenched her fists at her sides, her body trembling with a mix of emotions she couldn’t even begin to untangle.

“You are impossible,” she muttered, shaking her head as she turned away from him.

“Impossible?” he repeated, his voice rising with disbelief. He threw his arms out, his control slipping as his emotions finally broke through the carefully constructed mask he wore. “Do you think this has been easy for me? Do you think I haven’t cursed myself for every step I’ve taken toward this gods-damned mess?”

“Why should I care how hard it’s been for you?” she shot back, spinning to face him again. “You lied to me. You brought me here to trade me like some pawn on a chessboard!”

“I thought I could do it!” he roared, his voice echoing through the clearing. His chest heaved as he struggled to rein in the storm of emotions swirling inside him. “I thought it would be easy. But now…” He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the ground as his voice softened. “Now it’s not.”

Y/N stared at him, her heart pounding in her chest. For a moment, she thought she saw something break in him, something raw and unguarded. But the moment passed, and his walls went back up.

“I will never forgive you for this,” she said finally, her voice steady despite the lump in her throat.

Eris’s expression hardened, but his eyes betrayed him. There was something vulnerable, something desperate lingering in their depths. “Good,” he said, his tone sharper than a blade. “Because I’m not giving you to anyone.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “What?”

“You heard me.” He straightened, squaring his shoulders as if steeling himself for what was to come. “I’ll find the secret myself. I don’t know why or for what reason, but I can’t trade you. I won’t.”

She let out a harsh, humorless laugh. “Yeah, sure. You’re smart, but not smart enough to outwit a god.”

Eris didn’t flinch. Instead, his lips curved into the faintest hint of a smirk, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “If Rhysand and Feyre can do it, so can I.”

Y/N gaped at him, her mind racing with a thousand questions, but before she could voice any of them, Eris was already moving.

“We’re leaving,” he said, his voice firm and unyielding. “Now.”

For a moment, she stood frozen, her emotions warring within her. Then, with a muttered curse, she grabbed her things and followed him into the dark forest, the fire behind them burning lower and lower until it was nothing but embers.

The camp materialized in the forest’s depths like a secret whispered too loudly. A smattering of tents and crude wooden structures sat nestled among the trees, almost imperceptible until you were standing in the middle of it. Eris stepped through the wards without hesitation, his sharp gaze sweeping over the area.

Y/N trailed behind him, her silence more ominous than any insult she might have hurled his way. Her hood was drawn low over her face, her footsteps deliberately quiet.

“You’ve been here before,” Eris noted, glancing back at her.

Y/N didn’t answer immediately. Her eyes were fixed on the nearest tent, where two figures huddled close, their conversation halting as they spotted her.

“Y/N,” one of them said, stepping forward. A tall, wiry man with piercing gray eyes and a knife strapped to his thigh. His voice was clipped, suspicious. “You weren’t supposed to come back here.”

Y/N’s jaw tightened, but her tone was light, almost mocking. “Missed me already, Lioran?”

The man—Lioran—didn’t return the smile. His gaze slid to Eris, narrowing. “Who’s this?”

“Eris Vanserra,” Eris said smoothly, his tone polite but edged. “Charmed, I’m sure.”

Lioran’s hand drifted to the hilt of his knife. “We don’t take kindly to his kind here.”

Eris arched a brow. “My kind?”

“The scheming, backstabbing kind,” Lioran shot back, his voice sharp as steel.

“Then you’re in luck,” Eris said, his smile a razor-thin line. “I only scheme when it’s worth my time.”

“Eris,” Y/N hissed, stepping between them. She turned to Lioran, her voice low. “We’re not here to fight.”

“Then why are you here?” Lioran demanded, his gaze darting between her and Eris.

Y/N hesitated, her shoulders tense. “We need a place to rest. Just for a few hours.”

“Not here.”

“We don’t have a choice,” she snapped, her tone harsher than intended.

Lioran’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t have a choice, or he doesn’t?”

Eris stepped closer, his presence somehow both casual and imposing. “I appreciate your hospitality,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery. “Truly. But we’re staying.”

“Over my dead body,” Lioran growled, his knife halfway out of its sheath.

“That can be arranged,” Eris replied, his hand hovering near the sword at his hip.

“Enough!” Y/N’s voice cut through the rising tension like a blade. Both men froze, their gazes snapping to her.

“This isn’t your fight, Lioran,” she said, her voice steady despite the storm raging in her eyes. “Let us stay, and we’ll be gone by dawn.”

Lioran hesitated, his grip on the knife tightening. Then, with a muttered curse, he stepped back.

“You have until sunrise,” he said, his tone icy. “After that, you’re on your own.”

The tent was small and sparsely furnished, with little more than a pile of blankets and a flickering lantern. Y/N sat on the ground, her arms crossed over her chest, while Eris leaned against the canvas wall, watching her with an inscrutable expression.

“You’ve been here before,” he said finally, breaking the silence.

Y/N didn’t look at him. “What gave it away?”

“The way they looked at you,” he said, his tone annoyingly perceptive. “Like you were one of them. Or maybe like you weren’t anymore.”

She flinched, but her voice was sharp when she replied. “What’s your point?”

Eris tilted his head, studying her. “My point is, you’re full of surprises.”

“Coming from you, that’s almost a compliment.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

Silence stretched between them again, heavy and uncomfortable.

“Why did you bring me here?” Y/N asked finally, her voice low.

Eris hesitated, his golden eyes flickering with something she couldn’t quite place. “Because I needed to buy time.”

��For what?”

“To figure out what the hell I’m doing.”

His honesty caught her off guard, and for a moment, she didn’t know how to respond.

“I thought you always knew what you were doing,” she said, her tone softer than before.

“So did I,” he admitted, a wry smile tugging at his lips.

For a moment, they simply looked at each other, the tension between them shifting into something quieter, more uncertain.

Then Eris straightened, his usual smirk returning. “Get some rest,” he said, his tone turning brisk. “We leave before sunrise.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but didn’t argue, settling onto the pile of blankets with a huff.

As Eris extinguished the lantern, the darkness seemed to press in around them, heavy and unrelenting.

And for the first time in a long time, Y/N wasn’t sure which of them she trusted less—the tyrant High Lord's arrogant prick of a son, or herself.

The dim light of the lantern flickered one last time before going out, plunging the tent into darkness. Y/N lay motionless for what felt like hours, her breathing slow and even, feigning sleep. She could hear the soft rustle of fabric as Eris adjusted his position, the steady cadence of his breaths eventually signaling that he had drifted off.

Quietly, she pushed herself up, careful not to make a sound. Her boots barely scuffed the ground as she slipped out of the tent, the night air cool against her flushed skin. The camp was silent, save for the occasional crackle of a dying fire or the distant hoot of an owl.

She found Lioran near the edge of the camp, seated on a stump with two others—Elira, a sharp-eyed woman with a scar slicing through her lip, and Darin, a broad-shouldered man with a perpetual frown etched into his face. Their hushed conversation ceased the moment they saw her, their expressions shifting to guarded wariness.

“Y/N.” Lioran’s voice was sharp, cutting through the stillness. His gray eyes burned with a mixture of anger and something that almost looked like betrayal. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Y/N crossed her arms, her jaw tightening. “I needed help. I thought this place could offer it.”

“You thought this place could—” He stood abruptly, his fists clenching at his sides. “We thought you were dead, Y/N! For months, we worried, planned, searched. And then you show up out of nowhere, with him? What were we supposed to think?”

“I didn’t exactly have a choice,” she snapped back.

“No choice?” Elira interjected, her tone biting as she stepped closer, her dark eyes narrowing. “You’re standing here now, aren’t you? Looks like a choice to me.”

Y/N’s hands curled into fists. “Do you think I wanted this? To be dragged into his mess? To be used as leverage and then left to figure out how to survive?”

“Used as leverage?” Darin’s deep voice rumbled as he leaned forward, his arms still crossed. “What does that mean, Y/N?”

She hesitated, her gaze flicking to Lioran, then Elira, and finally Darin. “He sold me to Koschei,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

The words hung in the air like a thunderclap.

Elira’s expression hardened into something cold and unreadable, but Darin’s eyes widened in shock. Lioran’s jaw dropped slightly before he recovered, his voice rising in disbelief. “He what?”

“Keep your voices down,” Y/N hissed, glancing nervously toward the tent where Eris slept. “He’ll wake up.”

“You’re telling me,” Lioran said, his voice low but no less cutting, “that Eris Vanserra sold you to Koschei, and now you’re just... traveling with him? Are you out of your mind?”

“I didn’t have a choice,” she repeated, her voice rising slightly before she caught herself. “I escaped, and he needed my help. We’ve been stuck together ever since.”

“And you didn’t think to tell us this sooner?” Elira demanded, her tone sharp as a blade. “You disappear for months, let us think you’re dead, and now you show up dragging him into our territory?”

“I didn’t even know you were still here!” Y/N shot back. “For all I knew, you’d packed up and disappeared.”

“We wouldn’t have had to move if someone hadn’t led him straight to us,” Elira retorted, her scarred lip curling into a sneer.

“I didn’t lead him here!” Y/N shouted, her frustration boiling over. “Do you think I wanted this? Do you think I’d risk you all like that?”

Elira took a threatening step forward, but Lioran held up a hand to stop her. “Then why are you here, Y/N? Why now?”

Y/N straightened, her voice steady and fierce. “Because Beron needs to be stopped. Because Koschei is a threat to all of us. And because I can’t do this alone.”

“And you think we’re just going to trust you?” Lioran’s words were laced with bitterness. “After everything?”

“I don’t care if you trust me,” she said, her voice firm. “I’m not here to beg for your forgiveness. I’m here because I know what’s at stake. Beron won’t stop until he’s crushed everyone who stands in his way, and Koschei is more dangerous than any of you realize.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with truth.

Darin glanced at Elira, then Lioran. “She’s not wrong,” he muttered reluctantly.

“Shut up, Darin,” Elira snapped, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.

Y/N pressed on, her voice growing stronger. ��I need allies, not enemies. If we don’t stand together, we’ll all fall separately.”

Elira scoffed. “And we’re supposed to believe you haven’t told him anything about us? How the hell did he find this place?”

“I don’t know!” Y/N’s voice cracked with exasperation. “Do you think I’d risk all of you like that? Do you think I’d risk us?”

Lioran stepped closer, his gray eyes boring into hers. “Did you?”

“No!” she said fiercely. “Are you mad? He’s the last person I’d trust with that kind of information.”

The tension crackled between them like a live wire, neither willing to back down.

Finally, Lioran sighed, running a hand through his hair. “This is going to cause problems,” he muttered. “She isn’t going to be happy about this.”

Y/N frowned. “She?”

Lioran hesitated before answering. “You know who I mean. Do you think she’ll just let this slide?”

“She’ll understand,” Y/N said, though her voice wavered slightly. “She has to.”

Lioran’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I’ll see what I can do. But you’d better hope you’re right.”

With that, he turned and walked away, Elira following after him. Darin lingered for a moment, his gaze softening. “Be careful, Y/N. This isn’t just about you anymore.”

“I know,” she murmured, watching him go.

When she returned to the tent, Eris was still asleep, his breathing deep and even. She lay down carefully, staring up at the canvas above her, her mind racing with the implications of what had just transpired.

The battle wasn’t just with Beron or Koschei anymore. It was with the people she had once called allies—and the thin thread of trust that might be their only hope of survival.

Y/N woke to the low hum of voices, the kind that filled the camp with life but carried a weight of unspoken words. The sun barely peeked over the treetops, casting soft golden light on the forest floor. She blinked, groggy but alert enough to notice Eris wasn’t lying in the other makeshift bed anymore.

He stood a few feet away, crouched low as he packed their meager supplies. His shoulders were taut, the golden hair at the nape of his neck catching the early morning light. Y/N observed him for a moment, trying to gauge if he suspected anything. The tension in his frame was a constant, but there was no immediate sign that he’d pieced together her late-night conversation with Lioran.

Good. For now, at least.

Lioran’s laugh carried from near the campfire, followed by the murmur of other voices. Y/N shifted her attention there, noticing how the others in the camp were moving more leisurely this morning. They didn’t look at her with the same outright hostility as before. Suspicion lingered in their glances, but there was something softer in the way they interacted.

Pushing herself to her feet, Y/N walked over to the fire. Lioran stood on the opposite side, ladling out a hearty stew into small bowls and passing them to the others. He froze for a second when he spotted Y/N approaching, but her expression smoothed almost instantly.

“Breakfast?” Lioran offered, his tone clipped but civil.

Y/N took the bowl, her fingers brushing against Lioran’s briefly. The touch was enough to convey her silent plea: Don’t tell him.

Lioran's gaze flicked toward Eris, who was now leaning against a tree, his eyes darting between Y/N and the rest of the camp. His brow furrowed, but he said nothing.

“Thank you,” Y/N said softly, breaking the silence.

The others in the camp shifted awkwardly but seemed to relax when Lioran handed Eris his bowl without a word. For a while, the only sounds were the crackling of the fire and the quiet clinking of spoons against metal.

After they’d eaten, one of the camp members approached with a small satchel. “For your journey,” he said, handing it to Eris.

The male looked surprised but accepted it, his lips twitching into a brief, almost reluctant smile. “Gratitude,” he said simply, though the tension in his voice hinted at deeper emotions.

Y/N caught Lioran'ss eye one last time as they prepared to leave. There was a flicker of something there—an unspoken truce, or maybe just mutual exhaustion. Either way, Lioran's curt nod told her he’d keep her word. For now.

The forest stretched endlessly around them, dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy. Eris walked ahead, his posture rigid as ever. Y/N trailed behind him, her mind racing with questions she couldn’t ask aloud.

“You’re unusually quiet today,” Eris remarked, not turning to look at her.

“Maybe I’m tired of hearing your voice,” she shot back, quick and sharp.

He stopped abruptly, forcing her to stumble to a halt. He turned, his golden eyes narrowing as they locked onto hers. “We’re barely an hour into the day, and you’re already insufferable.”

Y/N crossed her arms. “I could say the same about you.”

Eris took a step closer, his height casting a shadow over her. “You know, for someone who’s supposed to be running for their life, you have a remarkable talent for wasting time.”

“And for someone who’s supposedly saving my life, you have a remarkable talent for being unbearable,” she countered.

Their argument carried on for several more minutes, each barb sharper than the last. But eventually, the tension fizzled, replaced by the quiet rhythm of their footsteps.

Hours passed, the forest growing denser, the air heavier. Y/N watched Eris from behind, his movements graceful but purposeful. His shoulders were broad, his steps measured, and for a brief moment, she wondered how someone so infuriating could also be so... captivating.

Her thoughts were interrupted by his sudden halt. “We’ll stop here for a while,” he announced.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “You’re the one who said we don’t have time to waste.”

“Do you ever stop complaining?”

“Do you ever stop talking?”

He ignored her, kneeling to inspect a patch of moss on the ground. His indifference only fueled her frustration. Before she could think better of it, she darted forward and jumped onto his back, her arms locking around his neck.

Eris staggered, his hands instinctively grabbing her legs to steady her. “What the hell are you doing?” he growled.

“Making a point,” she replied smugly, tightening her grip.

“You’re insane,” he muttered, twisting to try and shake her off.

They tumbled to the ground in a chaotic heap, Y/N landing on top of him. She straddled his waist, pinning his arms down with a triumphant grin.

“Admit it,” she teased. “You’re impressed.”

Eris glared up at her, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “Get off me.”

“Make me,” she challenged, leaning in slightly.

His golden eyes flicked to her lips for a fraction of a second, and the world seemed to slow. Y/N felt her heart stutter, her breath catching in her throat. For the first time, there was no sarcasm, no hostility—just raw, unfiltered tension.

But then, as quickly as it came, the moment shattered. Eris shoved her off him, his movements abrupt and almost panicked.

“Childish,” he muttered, brushing himself off as he stood.

Y/N stared at him, her cheeks flushed. “You’re the one who started it,” she retorted weakly, though her voice lacked its usual bite.

The atmosphere shifted as the sun dipped lower in the sky. The once-warm light grew colder, the shadows longer.

Eris’s pace quickened, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Y/N struggled to keep up, the unease in her chest growing with every step.

Then, without warning, she doubled over, clutching her chest as a sharp, searing pain shot through her.

“Y/N?” Eris was at her side instantly, his hands steadying her.

“I’m fine,” she gasped, though her trembling fingers betrayed her words.

The air around them seemed to thrum, an eerie energy crackling in the silence. And then, a voice—silken, cold, and dripping with malice.

“Running from me, little fox? Did you really think you could escape so easily?”

Koschei’s voice reverberated through the forest, wrapping around them like a vice.

Eris’s jaw clenched and he muttered a curse before saying, “Show yourself,” he demanded.

The laughter that followed was hollow and bone-chilling. “Not yet. But know this: your defiance will not go unpunished.”

Y/N felt the pain intensify, her vision swimming as Koschei’s words burned into her mind. Eris' grip on her tightened as he suddenly pulled her to his chest.

“Her life is tied to your choices now, princeling. Fail me, and she will pay the price.”

The voice faded, leaving a suffocating silence in its wake.

Eris tightened his grip on Y/N, his face pale but resolute. “I won’t let him win,” he whispered, more to himself than to her.

By the time they resumed their journey, night had fallen, draping the forest in shadows that seemed to reach for them as they passed. The moon hung low in the sky, its silvery glow filtering through the canopy to illuminate the narrow, winding path ahead. Eris walked a few paces ahead, his movements sharp and purposeful, the tension in his shoulders impossible to miss.

Y/N trailed behind, her mind a tangle of questions and doubts. Every step felt heavier, the weight of Koschei’s words still pressing against her chest. She watched Eris’s profile as he moved—his jaw set in determination, his golden hair catching the moonlight like a crown of fire. He hadn’t said a word since they’d left the clearing, and the silence between them was thick enough to choke on.

Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. “Are you going to tell me what this brilliant plan of yours is?” she asked, her voice hoarse but steady enough to cut through the night.

Eris didn’t so much as glance back. “No.”

Her footsteps faltered. “No?”

He stopped too, turning to face her. The moonlight carved sharp lines across his features, making his expression impossible to read. “I told you to trust me,” he said, his tone low but firm.

“Trust you?” Y/N repeated, the words dripping with disbelief. She scoffed, crossing her arms as her voice rose. “After everything that’s happened? After everything you’ve done?”

“Yes,” he said simply, his golden eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that stole her breath.

The calm certainty in his voice only fueled her frustration. She took a step closer, her fists clenched at her sides. “You can’t just demand trust, Eris. That’s not how it works. Not after—” Her voice cracked, and she quickly turned away, hiding the tremble in her hands. “Not after everything.”

Eris stayed silent, watching her as she fought to regain control. The only sound between them was the rustle of leaves and the distant cry of some nocturnal creature.

When he finally spoke, his voice was softer, almost gentle. “I know I’ve given you every reason to doubt me.”

Y/N’s head snapped back toward him, surprise flashing across her face. She hadn’t expected him to admit it.

“But if you don’t trust me now,” he continued, his gaze unwavering, “you’ll only make this harder on both of us. I have a plan. I’ll see it through. And I’ll keep you safe.”

“Safe?” she repeated bitterly. “You think this is about safety?”

“What else could it be about?” he asked, a flicker of irritation breaking through his calm facade.

Y/N opened her mouth to respond, but no words came. Because it wasn’t just about safety. It was about the lies, the manipulation, the way he always seemed to keep her one step behind, forcing her to rely on him when she wanted nothing more than to stand on her own.

“It’s about control,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s about you never letting me have a say in my own damn life.”

Eris’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t look away. For a moment, she thought he might argue. Instead, he took a slow step closer, closing the distance between them.

“I’m not doing this to control you,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I’m doing this because I know what’s at stake. And whether you like it or not, I’m your best chance at surviving this.”

Y/N stared at him, torn between fury and something she couldn’t quite name. The truth of his words only made her angrier, but there was something in his eyes—something raw and unguarded—that made it impossible to look away.

Finally, she let out a long, shaky sigh and turned back toward the path. “Fine,” she said, her tone sharp but resigned. “But if this goes sideways, I’m blaming you.”

Eris let out a soft huff of laughter, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in what could almost be called a smile. “Wouldn’t expect anything less,” he said, falling into step beside her.

The silence that followed was different this time—not quite comfortable, but no longer suffocating. As they walked, Y/N stole a glance at him from the corner of her eye. For all his arrogance and infuriating confidence, there was something steady about Eris, something that made her wonder if maybe—just maybe—he really did know what he was doing.

She quickly shoved the thought aside. Trust was a luxury she couldn’t afford, not when so much was on the line. But for now, she’d follow him. For now, she’d pretend that his plan was enough.

The night stretched on, the moonlight guiding their way as the forest seemed to close in around them. And though neither of them spoke again, the tension between them lingered, simmering beneath the surface like a fire waiting to ignite.

By the time the first rays of sunlight broke through the thick canopy above, Y/N’s legs ached, and her patience was nearing its limit. They had walked for hours, the night stretching endlessly, with only the sound of rustling leaves and Eris’s steady footsteps to break the silence.

He hadn’t told her where they were going, and the vague promise of a plan did little to soothe her growing frustration. She bit back the questions that kept rising in her throat, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much his secrecy irked her.

Instead, she focused on her surroundings, noting the shift in the forest’s atmosphere. The air had grown cooler, the trees older and more gnarled, their roots twisting across the ground like veins. There was a sense of ancient power here, something that made her skin prickle and her steps falter.

“Keep moving,” Eris called over his shoulder, his tone clipped.

Y/N scowled, quickening her pace to match his. “You could at least tell me if we’re getting close.”

“We’re close,” he said simply, offering no further explanation.

She glared at his back, tempted to hurl a rock at his head. But before she could voice her irritation, the forest opened up, revealing a clearing bathed in golden light. At its center stood a stone archway, weathered by time but still imposing. Strange runes were etched into its surface, glowing faintly as if alive.

“What is this?” Y/N asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Eris didn’t answer. Instead, he strode toward the archway, his movements more deliberate now, as though he were stepping onto sacred ground.

Y/N hesitated before following, her gaze darting around the clearing. The air felt heavy here, charged with a magic that made her heart race. She didn’t trust it—and she certainly didn’t trust Eris.

But curiosity won out, and she approached the archway, her eyes narrowing as she watched him trace his fingers over the glowing runes.

The runes were exactly as he remembered them from the stories his father used to tell. Tales of a hidden passage, a place where the secrets of their bloodline were guarded, waiting to be uncovered by those bold enough—or foolish enough—to seek them.

Eris’s fingers trembled slightly as they brushed against the cold stone, though he quickly steadied himself. He couldn’t afford hesitation now, not when they were so close.

“Eris,” Y/N’s voice broke through his focus, sharp and demanding. “What is this place?”

He glanced at her, taking in the way her arms were crossed defensively, her eyes narrowing as if she were trying to read his mind. A part of him wanted to explain, to ease the suspicion etched across her features. But the other part—the part that had been shaped by years of manipulation and betrayal—held back.

“It’s the key to our survival,” he said finally, his voice low but resolute.

Her scowl deepened. “Could you be any more cryptic?”

He ignored the jab, turning back to the archway. With a deep breath, he pressed his palm against the center rune, feeling the surge of magic as it reacted to his touch. The runes flared brighter, casting the clearing in an otherworldly glow.

A low rumble echoed through the ground, and the air around them seemed to ripple. The space within the archway shimmered, transforming into a swirling portal of gold and crimson.

Eris stepped back, his chest tightening. He’d spent years wondering if this place truly existed, if the stories were more than just myth. And now, standing on the precipice, he felt the weight of what lay ahead.

Y/N stared at the portal, her heart pounding in her chest. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered, rubbing her temples. “You brought me all the way out here for a portal? What even is this?”

Eris turned to her, his expression unreadable. “It’s a passage to the truth,” he said, his voice steady but filled with a tension she couldn’t quite place.

“Truth about what?” she demanded. “Your father? Your grand scheme? You can’t just keep dragging me along without answers, Eris.”

He hesitated, and for a moment, she thought he might actually open up. But then he shook his head, his jaw tightening. “You’ll see soon enough.”

Before she could argue, he stepped through the portal and disappeared.

Y/N’s stomach dropped. She glanced at the swirling magic, dread pooling in her gut. She had every reason to turn around and leave, to abandon him to whatever madness lay beyond. But she also knew that whatever this was, it was bigger than both of them.

With a muttered curse, she stepped into the portal.

The air on the other side was colder, sharper, and filled with the hum of ancient magic. Eris landed gracefully, his boots crunching against stone as he surveyed the chamber before him. The room was vast, its walls lined with glowing symbols that seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat.

At the center of the chamber stood a pedestal, atop which rested a small, intricately carved box. It was unassuming at first glance, but Eris could feel the power emanating from it, a power that called to him like a siren’s song.

He stepped toward it, his breaths coming quicker. This was it—the key to his father’s secrets, to the truths that had been kept from him for so long.

Behind him, Y/N appeared, stumbling slightly as she adjusted to the new surroundings. “What the hell is this place?” she asked, her voice echoing off the stone walls.

Eris didn’t answer. His focus was solely on the box as he reached out and lifted it from the pedestal. The moment his fingers closed around it, a wave of energy surged through the room, causing the symbols on the walls to flare brighter.

“What did you do?” Y/N demanded, panic creeping into her voice.

Before he could respond, a figure materialized from the shadows—a tall, cloaked man with eyes that glowed like molten gold.

“Eris,” the figure said, his voice deep and resonant. “You should not have come here.”

Eris froze, his grip tightening on the box. “Who are you?”

The man stepped closer, his presence radiating authority. “I am the keeper of the Vanserra bloodline's sins. And you have just unleashed them.”

The sudden appearance of the cloaked man caught Y/N off guard, her hand instinctively going to the dagger at her waist. She knew better than to trust anyone who emerged from the shadows, especially someone who seemed to know far more than they should.

Eris tensed beside her, his posture straightening. “I don’t remember inviting you.” His voice was cold, calculating, but there was a flicker of something—fear, maybe—beneath the surface.

The figure’s golden eyes, glowing with an ethereal light, fixed on Eris. “You don’t need to invite me, son. I’ve always been here, watching.” He stepped closer, his movement slow and deliberate, his feet never touching the stone floor. “You think you can just walk in here and uncover secrets that were meant to remain buried?”

Y/N exchanged a glance with Eris, her gut twisting with unease. The air around them had thickened, suffocating, as though the very room was alive with tension. The glowing symbols on the walls pulsed in a rhythm that matched the frantic beating of her heart.

“What do you want?” Eris demanded, his voice a bit sharper now, but his hands still gripping the box like his life depended on it.

The figure’s lips curled into a twisted smile. “What I want? I’m not the one who has come looking for answers, Eris. You’re the one who wants to peel back the veil of the past, but be careful. Some truths, once uncovered, cannot be undone.”

The words were heavy, ominous. Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine.

Eris’s grip tightened on the box, but his expression remained unreadable, almost like he was steeling himself for something worse. “I’m done being kept in the dark. Whatever you are, whatever my father has hidden from me… it’s time for the truth.”

Y/N watched the interaction between them closely, unsure of how much she should trust Eris’s confidence. She couldn’t shake the feeling that this man—this figure who seemed to appear from nowhere—was more than he let on.

The cloaked figure laughed, a low, mocking sound that reverberated around the chamber. “You think you’re ready for the truth? You’ve been living in your father’s shadow for so long, you have no idea what you’re about to uncover.” He reached out, but his fingers stopped just short of touching the box Eris held. “That box contains not just your father’s secrets but his sins. If you open it, you open the door to everything he’s done. Everything he’s become.”

Eris’s jaw clenched, but there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes now.

“Isn’t it better to leave things in the past?” Y/N asked, her voice low and tense. She could sense Eris’s hesitation, and it unnerved her. Was he truly ready to face what lay beyond this point? She wasn’t sure.

The cloaked man tilted his head slightly, considering her words. “Wise, but futile. The past has a way of coming for you. Especially when you’ve buried it so deeply.”

Eris didn’t back down. “I don’t care. I need to know.” He opened the box.

The air seemed to hold its breath.

Inside the box, there was a small crystal, no larger than a stone, but its light was blinding. A bright, pulsating red.

Y/N squinted, shielding her eyes from the intensity of the light. Her instincts screamed at her to run, but she stood frozen, unable to look away. The power radiating from the crystal felt familiar but twisted. Like something that had once been pure had been corrupted by darkness.

The moment he opened the box, a wave of energy slammed into him. It was as if the world around him buckled and shifted, pulling at his very soul. His vision blurred, his knees buckled, and for a split second, it felt like he was falling into an endless abyss.

The cloaked figure smiled knowingly, watching Eris struggle to maintain his composure. “I warned you.”

Eris clenched his teeth, forcing himself to stay upright. He had expected something—maybe not this intensity—but he hadn’t prepared for the physical weight of it. The crystal in his hand pulsed with malevolent power, and the symbols on the walls flared to life.

For a moment, he thought he saw shadows move within the symbols—whispers that seemed to beckon him. He felt a pull, a magnetic force drawing him deeper into the room, deeper into whatever this place was.

Y/N reached out instinctively, her hand brushing against his shoulder. “Eris… what’s happening?”

He turned to her, eyes wild, the golden hue of his gaze dimming as he fought to regain control. “It’s my father… he’s hidden this here for a reason. This crystal is—”

Before he could finish, the ground beneath them shook violently. The air thickened with the smell of burning metal and decay. The runes on the walls were no longer just glowing—they were alive, twisting, writhing like snakes.

The cloaked figure raised his hands, his eyes glowing brighter. “It’s already too late. You’ve unleashed something far worse than you can imagine. That crystal binds you to your father’s will. It always has.”

Y/N moved closer to Eris, her hand brushing the back of his as she tried to help steady him. “We need to leave. Now.”

Eris shook his head, determination flooding his veins despite the rising panic. “I can’t… I need to understand. I can’t just turn back now.”

The cloaked figure chuckled darkly. “You will never understand. You are just a pawn in his game. You always have been.”

Y/N’s eyes flickered between Eris and the figure, her thoughts racing. There was more to this than either of them knew. She could see it in the way Eris struggled, in the way the cloaked figure seemed to savor every moment of the pain they were experiencing.

Eris’s grip tightened on the crystal as the room seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat. Then, without warning, a voice echoed through the chamber, cold and detached.

“You should have never come here, Eris.”

Y/N’s heart froze. The voice was unmistakable.

It was his father.

The voice that echoed through the chamber sent a chill crawling down Eris’s spine. He had heard that voice in his dreams, in his nightmares, in his everyday life—the cold, emotionless tone of a man who had never cared for anything other than power.

The crystal in his hand vibrated violently, and the world seemed to warp around him. The air thickened with the weight of his father’s presence, though he could not see him.

“Father,” Eris breathed, his voice hoarse.

“You’re foolish, Eris. You always have been. Thinking you could change the past, thinking you could erase the sins you’ve inherited. You can’t escape me. Not now. Not ever. And now, I know exactly where you and that little birdie of yours are.” The voice sounded nearer now, echoing in every corner of the chamber.

Y/N stepped forward, her eyes flicking between Eris and the source of the voice, her hand still on his arm. “Eris, this isn’t you. Don’t let him—”

But before she could finish, the cloaked figure raised a hand. “Do you think this is over? You’ve only awakened a fraction of what lies ahead. Your father’s reach is far greater than you know, Eris. You’ve only scratched the surface.”

Eris shook his head, the weight of his father’s voice still pressing down on him. He could feel the truth of it gnawing at his insides. His father’s reach—his control—had never really ended. It was still pulling at him, tethering him to a past he couldn’t escape.

And then the realization hit him like a blow to the chest: He was more like his father than he’d ever wanted to admit.

His eyes met Y/N’s, and in that moment, something shifted. The hatred he had felt for his father, the anger, the rage—it seemed almost insignificant in the face of the storm that was coming. He couldn’t change the past. But maybe, just maybe, he could do something different now.

Y/N saw the moment Eris broke. It wasn’t physical—there was no visible crack in him, no sign that something had shifted—but she could feel it. She could see it in the way his shoulders slumped, the faint tremble in his hand as he held the crystal.

He was facing something deep within himself. And Y/N knew that whatever it was, it was more dangerous than any enemy they’d ever fought.

The cloaked figure laughed, a low, bitter sound that echoed through the chamber. “You’re too late, Eris. You’re already bound. Your fate has already been decided.”

But Y/N wasn’t done. She stepped forward, pulling Eris’s arm to stop him from retreating into himself. “We’re not done,” she said firmly. “Whatever this is, we face it together.”

For a moment, there was no response. Then, slowly, Eris met her eyes, his gaze shifting from uncertainty to something more determined.

“Together,” he muttered, as if testing the weight of the word.

And for the first time since they’d met, Y/N believed it.

The ride back to the capital was a blur of motion and urgency. Y/N didn't even know from where Eris got the horses. The forest around them seemed alive with the weight of Beron’s presence, the shadows stretching unnaturally long as if the High Lord himself were watching their every move.

Eris had barely spoken since the chamber, his jaw clenched and his eyes fixed straight ahead. Y/N had tried to pull him out of his silence, to remind him they needed a plan, but his focus was razor-sharp, and she knew better than to press too hard.

Still, the tension between them was unbearable. Every rustle in the trees, every snap of a twig, set her on edge. They were being hunted—she could feel it in her bones.

“We’re not going to make it to the capital unnoticed,” she finally said, her voice cutting through the oppressive quiet.

Eris didn’t turn, didn’t even glance her way. “We don’t have a choice.”

“And what happens when we get there?” she pressed. “Your father isn’t just going to let you stroll into his court and accuse him of treason.”

His lips curled into a humorless smile. “He won’t have to. The court’s already in chaos. This will just tip it over the edge.”

Y/N swallowed hard. She didn’t doubt Eris’s ability to lead, to inspire loyalty in those who followed him. But Beron had ruled for centuries with an iron fist, and loyalty to him ran deep, even among those who despised him.

He could feel the weight of Y/N’s doubts pressing against him, though she hadn’t voiced them outright. She was right to be cautious. This wasn’t just a gamble—it was a death wish.

But there was no time for hesitation.

The information he’d uncovered in the chamber was enough to destroy Beron’s reign, enough to rally the court against him—if Eris played it right. The crystal now hidden in his saddlebag pulsed with a faint warmth, a constant reminder of what was at stake.

“Keep your guard up,” he said, his voice low but commanding. “If Beron sent someone after us, they won’t be far behind.”

Y/N snorted softly, though there was no humor in it. “Good to know you’re finally acknowledging that we’re being hunted.”

Eris didn’t reply. His attention was fixed on the horizon, where the first faint outlines of the capital’s spires were visible against the darkening sky.

The attack came just before dawn, swift and brutal.

One moment they were riding through the dense undergrowth, the next, the air was alive with the sound of arrows slicing through the air.

“Down!” Eris barked, throwing himself from his horse and dragging Y/N with him just as a volley of arrows thudded into the trees where they had been riding moments before.

The horses screamed and bolted, disappearing into the forest as a group of masked figures emerged from the shadows, their movements silent and precise.

Eris drew his sword in one fluid motion, the blade catching the faint light of dawn as he placed himself between Y/N and the attackers. “Stay close,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Y/N didn’t hesitate, pulling her own dagger free as the first of the attackers lunged toward them.

The fight was chaotic, a blur of clashing steel and snarled commands. Eris moved with deadly precision, his strikes quick and calculated as he dispatched one attacker after another. Y/N fought with the same ferocity, her smaller blade flashing in the dim light as she defended herself against the onslaught.

But the attackers kept coming, their movements coordinated as if they were being guided by an unseen hand.

“Eris!” Y/N shouted, her voice sharp with warning.

He turned just in time to see a massive figure charging toward him, a wickedly curved blade glinting in his hand. Eris barely managed to deflect the blow, the force of it sending him staggering back.

Y/N lunged, her dagger slicing across the attacker’s thigh as she moved to cover Eris’s side.

“Nice timing,” he muttered, his breathing ragged.

“Don’t mention it,” she shot back, her own chest heaving as she scanned the trees for the next threat.

Just as it seemed they were being overwhelmed, a sudden burst of fire lit up the forest.

Eris’s flames roared to life, consuming the nearest attackers in a blaze of heat and light. The remaining assailants faltered, their carefully coordinated attack breaking apart as panic set in.

“Run or burn,” Eris growled, his voice carrying over the crackling of the flames.

The surviving attackers didn’t need to be told twice. They vanished into the trees, leaving their fallen comrades behind.

Eris let the fire die, the light fading as quickly as it had come.

Y/N slumped against a tree, her dagger still clenched tightly in her hand. “Well,” she panted, “that was fun.”

Eris shot her a look, but there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes now, despite the tension still coiled in his frame. “We need to keep moving.”

She nodded, forcing herself to her feet. “Next time, maybe warn me before you set the forest on fire.”

The camp they set up was crude but sufficient. A circle of stones held a small fire, its flames snapping against the cold night air. Eris moved efficiently, his every motion sharp with frustration. Y/N leaned against a tree, her arms crossed, watching him with a frown.

The tension between them had been simmering since the attack in the woods, the unspoken words and mounting pressure finally reaching a breaking point.

“We shouldn’t stop,” she said, her voice cutting through the crackle of the fire.

“We have no choice,” Eris replied without looking at her. “The horses are gone. We’re lucky we made it this far on foot.”

Y/N pushed off the tree, her arms falling to her sides. “We’re wasting time.”

Eris rounded on her, his golden eyes blazing. “And what would you have me do, Y/N? March us straight into the capital half-dead and unprepared?”

“Yes, if it means we’re one step ahead of Beron,” she shot back, her tone sharp. “He knows we’re coming. Every second we spend out here is a second closer to him tightening his grip.”

Eris let out a harsh laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t feel the weight of it every damn moment?”

“Then stop acting like you’re the only one with something to lose!”

The words hung in the air, sharp and raw. Eris froze, his chest heaving as he stared at her.

Y/N didn’t back down, her voice trembling with the force of her anger. “You’ve been holding onto this plan of yours like it’s the only thing that matters. But guess what, Eris? I matter. My people matter. The things I’ve fought for—bled for—they matter. And I won’t let your pride or your fear jeopardize everything.”

Eris’s gaze darkened, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Fine. You want to talk about what matters? Let’s start with you. Who are you, Y/N? Really? Because every time I think I have you figured out, you throw another secret at me.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, but she squared her shoulders. “You want the truth? Fine. I’m from the Eastern Wastes. My family was slaughtered when Beron’s soldiers raided my village, claiming we were harboring rebels. I survived by sheer luck—or maybe because I was too young to fight back.”

Her voice cracked, but she pressed on. “I was taken in by the Blackspire Alliance—a group that fights against tyrants like your father. They trained me, turned me into a weapon. I’ve spent my entire life dismantling regimes like Beron’s, piece by bloody piece.”

Eris blinked, the firelight catching in his eyes. “The Blackspire Alliance... They’re a myth.”

“They’re real,” Y/N said bitterly. “And they’re the reason I’m still alive. But they’re also the reason I’ll never have a normal life. I’ve done things—terrible things—in their name. And I’ll do more if it means taking Beron down.”

Her words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.

When Eris finally spoke, his voice was low, almost a whisper. “Do you think you’re the only one with scars?”

Y/N’s head snapped up, her gaze locking with his.

“I’ve hated my father for as long as I can remember,” Eris said, his tone filled with quiet venom. “He’s cruel, manipulative, and he’s ruled our court through fear and bloodshed. I’ve spent my entire life trying to find a way to stop him. But every time I got close, he reminded me of just how powerless I was. How easily he could destroy everything I cared about.”

His hands curled into fists at his sides. “And then there’s my brothers. Do you know what it’s like to stand by while they suffer under him, knowing you can’t save them without damning yourself?”

Y/N opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off, his voice rising. “I didn’t think it would be this hard. I thought I could handle it. But then you came along, and suddenly everything became so much more complicated.”

He took a step closer, his golden eyes burning into hers. “Because now, when I think of you in the slightest danger, it feels like my chest is being ripped open. And I hate it. I hate that you make me feel this way when I can’t afford to be distracted.”

Y/N stared at him, her heart pounding. “You think I don’t feel the same?” she whispered.

Eris let out a frustrated growl, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. “Then why do you keep pushing me away? Why do you act like this is just some mission to you?”

“Because it has to be!” Y/N shouted, her voice cracking. “If I let myself feel anything more, I’ll lose focus. And if I lose focus, we both die.”

Her words seemed to pierce through him, and he stopped pacing, his gaze locking with hers.

“You’re a coward,” he said softly, the accusation like a slap to the face.

Y/N’s eyes blazed with fury. “How dare you—”

“You’re afraid to let yourself want something for once in your life,” Eris continued, his voice rising. “Because if you do, it’ll mean admitting that you’re not just a weapon. That you’re a fae. And that terrifies you.”

Y/N took a step forward, her hands clenched into fists. “You don’t know me.”

“I know enough,” he said, his voice steady now. “I know you’re strong. Fierce. Loyal. But you’re also so damn scared of being vulnerable that you’d rather push everyone away than let them in.”

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, she couldn’t find the words to respond.

Eris closed the distance between them in a heartbeat, his hands cupping her face as he kissed her with a fierceness that stole the air from her lungs.

Y/N froze, the shock of it crashing over her like a wave. But then the heat of his lips, the raw desperation in his touch, pulled her under. She kissed him back, her hands gripping his tunic as if he were the only thing anchoring her to the world.

The kiss was a battle in itself—fierce, messy, and filled with every unspoken word they couldn’t bring themselves to say.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing hard, their foreheads pressed together.

“This doesn’t change anything,” Y/N whispered, her voice trembling.

“No,” Eris agreed, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “But it means something.”

Y/N closed her eyes, her chest aching with a mixture of fear and longing. She didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but for now, in this moment, she let herself feel.

The kiss lingered like a phantom between them, neither willing to address it, both too stubborn to break the uneasy silence. The tension was palpable as they packed up the camp, their movements sharp and deliberate.

Eris’s usual sharp remarks were replaced with clipped instructions. Y/N, for her part, kept her replies short, her mind a tangle of confusion and frustration. The awkwardness gnawed at her, but she refused to be the one to crack first.

The forest thinned as they neared the outskirts of the capital. Smoke curled on the horizon, faint but unmistakable—a sign of the chaos that awaited them.

Y/N broke the silence, her voice quiet but firm. “You’re sure about this?”

Eris didn’t look at her, his golden eyes fixed ahead. “I have to be.”

Her stomach twisted. She hated how much she cared about his answer, how much the thought of losing him made her chest ache.

By the time they reached the outskirts of the capital, the sun was rising, casting an eerie orange glow over the smoke-filled sky. Y/N’s steps faltered as she saw the figures waiting for them.

At first, she thought it was an illusion. But as they drew closer, she recognized the faces—fighters from the Blackspire Alliance, rebels she hadn’t seen in years, and even a few she’d thought long dead. Among them were the familiar silhouettes of their leaders, the very people she thought would never forgive her departure—yet they had answered her call.

Her gaze landed on Lioran, standing at the front, his expression grim but resolute.

“You...” she began, her voice barely above a whisper.

“We answered,” Lioran said simply.

Her throat tightened, her hands curling into fists at her sides as memories of their last meeting rushed back. The argument. The betrayal. The way she had left, believing she would never see any of them again.

“I didn’t think—” Her voice cracked, and she swallowed hard. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

Lioran’s tone sharpened, though there was no malice in it. “You didn’t think we’d come?” He stepped forward, closing the distance between them. “You’ve been leading us for years, Y/N. Did you really think we’d let you face this alone? That we wouldn’t fight for the cause we all believed in?”

Behind him, others began to move closer, their faces illuminated by the growing light of dawn. Karys, the fiery-tempered weapons master, adjusted the massive axe strapped to her back. Her expression was as stern as ever, but there was a flicker of warmth in her stormy eyes as she nodded at Y/N.

Beside her stood Elira, the Alliance’s healer, her long silver hair tied into a braid that fell over her shoulder. Though her soft features bore the lines of worry and exhaustion, her lips curved into a small, reassuring smile.

And then there was Garran, the tactician whose sharp mind had kept them alive through some of their darkest days. His dark eyes gleamed with intelligence as he stepped forward, giving Eris a curt nod of acknowledgment before turning his attention to Y/N.

“You didn’t just call us,” Garran said, his voice low but carrying weight. “You called everyone. Word spread faster than wildfire. And this—” He gestured to the crowd behind him. “This is only the beginning. More are coming. More than you ever imagined.”

Y/N’s eyes swept over the gathered rebels, taking in the sea of faces—new and old, scarred and hopeful. Among the common folk were blacksmiths still wearing soot-streaked aprons, hunters clutching bows and quivers, and even children barely old enough to hold blades but standing tall with determination.

“I never expected...” She trailed off, unable to find the words.

Elira stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on Y/N’s shoulder. “You gave us hope when we had none. You think we’d forget that?”

A lump rose in her throat, and she blinked rapidly to push back the sting of tears. “I thought I lost all of you,” she admitted, her voice barely audible.

Karys snorted, her tone dry but not unkind. “We’re tougher than that, girl. You should know better.”

Eris had been standing a few paces behind Y/N, his amber eyes keenly observing the exchange. His expression remained unreadable, though his posture was unusually stiff. When Garran’s gaze flicked to him again, something unspoken passed between the two men—acknowledgment, perhaps, or the silent beginnings of trust.

“We’re ready,” Lioran said, his voice steady as he stepped closer, his presence commanding. “But you should know: Beron’s forces are already tearing the city apart. The fighting’s started, and it’s going to get worse before it gets better. If we’re going to strike, we need to do it soon.”

Y/N’s jaw tightened, her resolve hardening like steel. She looked at the rebels—at her people—before turning to face the city, where smoke and ash painted the horizon.

“Then we’d better get to work,” she said, her voice resolute, though her heart thundered in her chest.

Behind her, the Blackspire Alliance roared their agreement, the sound rising like thunder over the chaos of the burning capital.

The capital was unrecognizable. Smoke choked the air, curling into the dawn sky like dark serpents. The acrid stench of burning wood, charred flesh, and spilled blood was suffocating. The streets, once bustling with life, were now a graveyard of shattered debris, overturned carts, and the lifeless bodies of those caught in the crossfire.

Fires raged unchecked, devouring homes and businesses alike, their flames crackling and hissing as they leapt from building to building. The inferno painted the sky an angry orange, casting jagged shadows that seemed to dance across the carnage below. Shouts and screams echoed through the streets, mingling with the clash of steel and the guttural cries of the wounded.

Y/N moved through the chaos like a storm, her iron sword flashing in the firelight. Her movements were precise, almost graceful, as she cut down anyone who dared to stand in her way. Behind her, the rebels of the Blackspire Alliance fought with a ferocity born of desperation, their weapons gleaming as they clashed against Beron’s forces.

Every step was a battle. The royal guards were relentless, their polished armor splattered with blood and soot as they surged forward in tightly-knit formations. They fought with the discipline of trained killers, but Y/N and her rebels matched them blow for blow.

At one point, as she turned a corner, her sharp gaze caught sight of a group of civilians huddled against the wall of a crumbling building. A mother clutched her sobbing child to her chest, her face pale with terror. An elderly man leaned heavily on a wooden staff, his knuckles white as he tried to shield a young boy with his body.

They were surrounded. A squad of royal guards closed in on them, their swords gleaming with deadly intent.

Y/N didn’t hesitate. Fury surged through her veins, white-hot and unyielding, as she launched herself into the fray. She moved like a blur, her weapons slicing through the air.

The first guard didn’t even have time to react. Y/N’s sword tore through his chestplate, rending steel and flesh as he crumpled to the ground. The second swung his blade at her, but she ducked under the arc and drove her axe into his unprotected side. He fell with a strangled cry, his sword clattering uselessly to the ground.

The remaining guards turned to face her, their faces a mix of shock and rage. One of them shouted an order, and they charged as a unit, their swords aimed at her heart.

Y/N snarled, her fangs bared, and met them head-on. Her swordcaught the blade of the first guard, sparks flying as steel met iron. With a powerful twist, she disarmed him, her hand slashing across his throat in a single, lethal motion.

The next guard lunged at her with a spear, but she sidestepped the thrust with inhuman speed. Grabbing the shaft of the spear, she yanked it free from his grasp and swung it like a staff, knocking him off his feet. She didn’t stop—couldn’t stop—as she drove her bare hands into his chest, ensuring he wouldn’t rise again.

The last guard hesitated, his grip on his sword faltering as he stared at her. Y/N advanced on him, her steps deliberate, her hands dripping with blood.

“Run,” she growled, her voice low and menacing.

The guard’s nerve broke. He turned and fled, his armor clanking as he disappeared into the smoke-filled streets.

Breathing hard, Y/N turned to the civilians. “Get to safety!” she shouted, her voice sharp with urgency as she wiped blood from her brow.

The mother stared at her, wide-eyed and trembling, before nodding quickly. She grabbed her child’s hand and bolted toward a nearby alley, the elderly man and boy following close behind.

Y/N watched them go, her chest heaving with exertion. Relief flickered through her, but it was short-lived.

“Commander!” one of the rebels shouted, running toward her. “More guards are coming from the west! We’re outnumbered!”

Y/N clenched her jaw, her hands flexing as she scanned the street. The fires had grown, consuming entire buildings and forcing the rebels to funnel through narrow, smoke-filled passageways. They couldn’t hold this position much longer.

“Fall back to the eastern square!” she barked, her voice carrying over the chaos. “Regroup there and hold the line until we can push through!”

The rebel nodded and sprinted off to relay the order. Y/N took a moment to steady herself, her gaze lingering on the bodies of the guards she had killed.

She turned back toward the fight, her resolve hardening. There was no room for hesitation, no time for fear. They had a city to reclaim, and she would see it through—no matter the cost.

The throne room was a gilded mausoleum, its ornate gold-and-red design bathed in the flickering glow of Eris’s flames. The suffocating weight of power, corruption, and decades of unspoken resentment seemed to pulse from the walls. Eris stalked forward like a predator unleashed, the fire in his palms mirroring the inferno blazing in his chest.

Beron sat on his throne, his expression a twisted mix of disdain and amusement, as though he couldn’t believe Eris would dare challenge him. Flanking him were Eris’s remaining brothers, their faces betraying a mix of fear and loyalty, their swords already drawn.

"Back to grovel, boy?" Beron sneered, his voice oozing contempt, but there was an edge of uncertainty in his tone.

Eris didn’t bother replying. Words had long since lost their meaning in these halls. Instead, he let his flames roar to life, casting monstrous shadows across the room as he hurled a blazing inferno toward his father.

Beron barely moved in time, the blast of fire scorching the side of the throne and sending shards of molten gold flying. The room erupted into chaos as Beron’s sons lunged forward, their weapons catching the firelight in deadly arcs. Seems like Eris would have to fight his brothers, oh well, he would get them healers after all this mess is over.

The fight was brutal, every strike carrying the weight of buried history and bitterness.

One of Eris’s brothers, swung his sword in a vicious arc aimed at Eris’s neck. Eris ducked, his movements fluid and precise, and countered with a sweep of flames that engulfed Caleb’s arm. The brother screamed, dropping his weapon and stumbling back, but Eris didn’t stop. He spun, using the momentum to drive his fist—wreathed in fire—into the face of another brother, the impact echoing through the chamber.

“Enough of this!” Beron’s voice boomed, and the High Lord raised his hands. A surge of raw, fiery power rippled through the air, colliding with Eris’s flames and extinguishing them in an instant. The oppressive weight of Beron’s power bore down on the room, choking and hot.

“You think you can kill me?” Beron snarled, his eyes narrowing as he stepped forward. “You think you’ve earned that right?”

“I don’t think,” Eris said, his voice like steel. “I know.”

With a roar, Eris reignited his flames, the inferno hotter and brighter than before, defying the cold weight of Beron’s power. He surged forward, his blade flashing in the fiery light as he clashed with his father. Sparks flew as their weapons met, the force of each strike reverberating through the walls.

Beron’s attacks were relentless, fueled by years of cruelty and dominance. He lashed out with blasts of fiery magic that twisted and coiled like living things, seeking to ensnare and crush Eris. But Eris was faster, his flames burning away the dark tendrils with each strike.

“You’ve always been a disappointment,” Beron hissed, his face contorted with rage. “Weak. Sniveling. Unworthy of my throne.”

Eris laughed, a sharp, bitter sound that cut through the clash of steel. “And yet here I am, standing where you thought I never would.”

He pressed the attack, his blade moving like liquid fire. He drove Beron back toward the throne, each strike fueled by the years of pain and humiliation he had endured. But Beron was no weakling; he had ruled for centuries with cunning and strength. He parried Eris’s blows with precision, his magic coiling around him like armor.

Out of the corner of his eye, Eris saw his last uninjured brother attempting to flank him. With a quick flick of his wrist, he sent a jet of fire spiraling toward the man, forcing him to dive for cover.

Beron seized the distraction, sending a blast of fireballs toward Eris’s chest. The force of it knocked Eris off his feet, slamming him into a gilded pillar. Pain lanced through his back, but he gritted his teeth and rose, flames already igniting in his hands again.

Beron smirked. “You can’t win, boy. You’ll never be more than a shadow in my legacy.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Eris growled. His flames erupted in a brilliant cascade, setting the drapes and banners ablaze, turning the throne room into a fiery hellscape.

Beron lunged, but Eris was ready. He sidestepped the attack and drove his blade deep into Beron’s side. The High Lord gasped, his power faltering for a brief moment.

“Still think I’m weak?” Eris spat, twisting the blade and pulling it free.

Beron staggered, but his eyes burned with defiance. “You’ll regret this. You don’t have what it takes to—”

Eris didn’t let him finish. With a roar, he drove his blade straight into Beron’s chest, the force of the blow driving them both to the ground. Flames erupted around them as Beron’s power surged one last time before fading entirely.

For a moment, the room was silent, save for the crackling of fire. Eris stared down at his father’s lifeless body, his chest heaving with exertion. The High Lord of Autumn was no more.

But the victory felt hollow, the weight of what came next settling heavily on Eris’s shoulders.

As Beron crumpled to the ground, his lifeless body hitting the marble with a finality that echoed through the throne room, Y/N screamed.

The sound tore through the chaos outside the palace, raw and guttural, cutting through the clamor of battle like a blade. She stumbled, clutching at her chest as a searing, inexplicable pain radiated through her body. It felt like fire licking at her veins, consuming her from the inside out. Her knees buckled, and she crumpled to the blood-streaked ground.

Lioran was at her side in an instant, his face pale with panic as he caught her before she hit the stone. “Y/N! What’s happening?” he demanded, his voice tight with fear.

She couldn’t answer. Her breath came in short, desperate gasps as the pain worsened, an invisible hand tightening around her ribs. Her vision blurred, the sounds of the battle around her fading into a muted roar.

“I don’t know—” she choked out, her hands trembling as they gripped Lioran’s arms. “I—can’t—breathe.”

Around them, the fight seemed to stall as their people noticed their leader faltering. The fighters of the Blackspire Alliance closed ranks, forming a protective circle around Y/N and Lioran.

“Get back! Give her space!” one of the rebel leaders barked, their voice shaking despite their attempt at authority.

Lioran gently eased Y/N onto the ground, his hand pressing against her clammy forehead. “Stay with me, Y/N,” he urged, his voice softer now, betraying the raw edge of fear he couldn’t hide. “You’ve faced worse. Whatever this is, you’ll fight through it.”

But she wasn’t so sure. The pain wasn’t like any injury she’d ever felt. It was deeper, rooted in something intangible. It wasn’t her body breaking; it felt like her very soul was unraveling.

She clenched her jaw, forcing herself to focus on Lioran’s face, his familiar features anchoring her in the storm. “It feels like—like something’s tearing me apart,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Lioran swore under his breath, his gaze darting to the others surrounding them. “We need a healer. Now.”

“There aren’t any left,” one of the rebels said grimly. “The palace guard took them out first.”

Y/N shook her head weakly, her lips twitching into a faint, humorless smile. “It won’t help,” she murmured. “This... this isn’t something a healer can fix.”

Lioran’s brow furrowed, his frustration boiling over. “What the hell are you talking about? You’re bleeding internally or—”

“No,” she cut him off, wincing as another wave of pain coursed through her. “It’s not physical.” Her voice broke, her hands trembling as they clutched at her chest. “It’s something else.”

Before Lioran could respond, her body convulsed, her back arching as a sharp cry tore from her lips. The pain reached a crescendo, so overwhelming she thought she might lose consciousness. Darkness crept at the edges of her vision, and for a terrifying moment, she thought this might be it.

Through the haze, she heard Lioran shouting orders, his voice a desperate thread pulling her back. “Get her out of here! Cover the retreat!”

“No,” Y/N gasped, her hand weakly gripping his wrist. “Don’t... leave the fight. This war—”

“This war doesn’t mean a damn thing if you’re dead!” Lioran snarled, his composure cracking. “We’ll win, Y/N, but not without you.”

Her grip on him faltered as another wave of agony wracked her body. The world seemed to tilt, the colors and sounds blurring together into an incomprehensible mess. Somewhere in the distance, the roar of fire surged—Eris. He was still in the palace, still fighting.

“Eris,” she whispered, the name slipping past her lips before she could stop it. “He... I...”

“What about him?” Lioran demanded, shaking her lightly to keep her awake. “Y/N, what’s happening to you?”

But she couldn’t answer. Her thoughts were a tangled web of pain and confusion, her heart a drumbeat of desperation. The last thing she saw before the darkness took her was Lioran’s terrified face, his voice fading into the abyss.

The battlefield was a hellscape of fire and ash, screams and chaos, but all of it faded for Eris when he saw her.

Y/N lay motionless amidst the wreckage, her face pale, her body unnaturally still. His breath caught in his throat, his heart freezing in his chest as if time itself had stopped. The world dimmed; all he could hear was the sound of his own footsteps pounding against the scorched ground as he ran to her.

“No,” he whispered, the word torn from his lips as he dropped to his knees beside her. His hands trembled as he cradled her lifeless form, pulling her into his arms. “No, no, no.”

Her head lolled against his chest, her body limp and unresponsive. Blood streaked her skin, mingling with the soot that coated her. Eris’s flames, usually so controlled, flickered erratically around them, casting harsh shadows on her face.

“Y/N,” he choked, his voice raw and broken. He pressed his forehead to hers, his hands cupping her cheeks as if he could will her back to life through sheer force of will. “Please. Don’t do this. You don’t get to leave me now. Not now.”

Around them, the fighting raged on, but none of it mattered. Lioran and the others had stopped, their gazes fixed on their fallen leader and the man holding her as if the world had ended. The rebels looked on, their faces etched with sorrow, their grief palpable in the air.

“Y/N,” Eris begged, his voice cracking. “Wake up. Please, wake up.”

Nothing.

His flames surged higher, the heat searing the ground beneath him. Despair clawed at his chest, threatening to consume him whole. He pressed his lips to her forehead, his tears dripping onto her skin. “You can’t leave me,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “You can’t. I... I need you.”

For a moment, he thought he heard something—a faint beat, a whisper of breath—but it vanished as quickly as it came. The weight of her absence crushed him, the realization settling like a blade through his heart. He let out a strangled cry, his fire roaring around them in a wild inferno of anguish.

“Damn it!” he roared, his voice echoing through the broken streets. “If anyone’s listening, bring her back! Take me instead, just... bring her back!”

His magic surged wildly, uncontrolled, as if answering his desperation. Golden flames erupted around them, illuminating the battlefield. He pressed his forehead against hers again, his voice a whisper now, filled with a quiet, breaking despair.

“Take it,” he murmured, closing his eyes. “Take everything I have. My fire, my life, my soul—take it all if it means you’ll stay.”

The flames surrounding them began to shift, flickering and curling as though alive. A strange, ethereal energy rippled through the air, weaving between Eris and Y/N. His magic, golden and blazing, intertwined with something darker—something shadowed and ancient that seemed to rise from her very essence.

The ground beneath them trembled as the energy grew brighter, stronger, their combined power forming a connection that pulsed with life. Eris gasped as the magic surged through him, binding them together in a way he couldn’t explain. It was more than power—it was lifeblood, fate, and eternity, all merging into one.

Y/N’s chest rose suddenly, her lips parting as she drew in a ragged breath. Her eyes snapped open, wide and panicked, before locking onto his.

“Eris?” she rasped, her voice weak and trembling. “What... what’s happening?”

Relief crashed over him like a tidal wave, so overwhelming he thought he might collapse. He cupped her face, his thumbs brushing over her cheeks as his tears continued to fall. “You’re alive,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “You’re here.”

She blinked at him, confusion mingling with the lingering pain in her eyes. “What did you do?” she asked, her voice shaking. “I... I felt like I was gone.”

Eris managed a weak, lopsided smile, his fingers trembling as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I gave you everything,” he murmured, his voice cracking. “I couldn’t lose you.”

Around them, the rebels watched in stunned silence, their disbelief evident on their faces. Lioran’s eyes darted between the two, his mouth opening and closing as if he couldn’t find the words.

Y/N’s gaze softened, though tears welled in her eyes. “Eris,” she whispered, her fingers brushing against his cheek. “You didn’t have to—”

“Yes, I did,” he interrupted, his voice firm despite the tremor in it. “You think I’d stand by and let you go? After everything we’ve been through?” His jaw tightened, his flames flickering weakly now as exhaustion began to weigh on him. “We’re connected now, Y/N. You’re not allowed to leave me—not ever.”

She stared at him, her lips parting in shock as the weight of his words settled over her. Around them, the chaos of the battle seemed to fade, the flames of destruction giving way to an eerie, fragile stillness.

Then, Lioran’s voice broke the silence, hoarse but filled with awe. “They’re bound,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Did you... did you just save her by tying your lives together?”

Eris glanced at him, his gaze sharp and unyielding. “It doesn’t matter how,” he said, his voice low but steady. “What matters is she’s here. She’s alive.”

The rebels began to stir, murmurs spreading through the crowd as they took in the scene—the High Lord’s son, the fiery commander, cradling their leader as if she were his entire world. It was a sight none of them could have imagined, yet it filled them with a strange, unexpected hope.

Y/N’s hand tightened on his, her eyes glistening as she searched his face. “Eris... thank you,” she said softly, her voice breaking with emotion.

He leaned closer, his forehead pressing against hers, his voice a whisper only she could hear. “Don’t thank me,” he murmured. “Just promise me you’ll stay.”

As the fires of battle began to fade, the two of them remained at the center of it all, bound by magic, by fate, by a love neither of them had fully understood until now.

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