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lady-riel · 18 days

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azriel x eris | 2,7k words | warnings: slightly vulgar wording | masterlist

Sunlight, peaking through the looming clouds high above the Illyrian mountains, makes the snow around them glitter. Fresh, crisp air brushes their faces, fills their lungs, and cools their sweat-drenched bodies. Snow threads through the trees, the branches and needles are covered in frost. Nothing but endless white. Thick layers of endless white, a few animal trails criss-crossing here and there, but other than that there is nothing but boundless snow and calm.

Well, it would be silent, weren’t it for the cheerful hollering of a single Illyrian male.

“Yes! Brothers! Yes!” Cassian throws his hands up in the air, tramples on the ground and then continues to cheer loudly. There is a radiant grin on his lips, so bright it rivals the sun high above in the sky on a beautiful summer day. “Look at the winner! The winner who is me – Cassian!”

When he is close enough to the other two, he wraps both his arms around his brothers‘ shoulders, mindful of the wings, of course, grinning triumphantly while pulling them to him. Rhysand huffs a laugh.

“It looks like the two of you lost. It looks like my brothers are losers,” he announces in a joyful, but not one bit gleeful, voice. He is only happy. “And I won. I’m the winner!”

Cassian squeezes his brothers tightly once again as they waddle through the ankle-deep snow, their boots already fully covered in the fluffy white.

Azriel sighs with amusement, craning his neck beneath the weight of Cassian’s muscular arm.

“It was close,” Rhys grumbles, and with a grin on his lips shakes his head at his best friend. “Really close.”

Cassian laughs again, the sound so loud and rich it bounces off the Illyrian mountains around them. He is truly happy about his victory and Azriel wants nothing more than to share his best friend’s happiness, to be happy for him, but at this moment it is hard to force those feelings. Happiness is once again hard to find within him, there is a spark of light, but it is barely there and he worries it extinguishes completely one day. Like a candle you blow out.

“I don’t think it was that close,” Cassian chuckles and then addresses his brother who has been silent until then, “what do you think, Azzy?“

“It was close.” As much as he tries to sound as happy as his brother does, his voice is colder, hoarse and obviously Cassian immediately knows that something is wrong.

Rhys does too. But he doesn’t say anything. There is something between them, a cold and unspoken words that have been there since last year's solstice. Since the incident with Elain…

The general‘s body goes rigid, his arm tensing around Azriel, his hold tightening. “You alright?” Cassian asks. He knows Azriel isn’t, but what else should he have said. He wants to check in, often doing so lately. He can’t stand when his brother is hurting, his own heart aching with his brother’s sadness.

Azriel doesn’t want Cassian to worry, not when he was just so joyful. It is his day, his snowball fight victory. So he nods and cracks a little smile, wanting nothing more than for his brother‘s happiness to return. “Just sour, I didn't win.”

Cassian chuckles to that, not fully believing him, but accepting his answer for now. “Next year you‘ve got another chance.”

“I’ll beat your ass then, Cass,” Azriel tells him and the smile on his lips feels a bit more natural then.

He tells himself that he needs to focus on these moments. These moments that truly matter. Just the three of them. A few years ago, they have finally gotten Rhys back and are now lucky enough to spend the snowball fight with him again. Azriel knows he has to treasure these moments and not dwell on his sadness. He has to enjoy the small moments in his life, those that remind him of his youth with his brothers, those careless moments where nothing and no one could bother them.

“Next year I will win,” Rhys says and both Azriel and Cassian burst into laughter.

“Right, Rhysie, if you say so.” Cassian pats his shoulder, his laughter sounding in the air around them.

Azriel smiles.

Even though he tries so hard to change his mindset, to focus on this moment, on the inside he still feels cold. Maybe the warmth of the birchin will help. He just wants to be inside, melting away in the heat, the steam clouding his mind until all negative thoughts vanish.

So when moments later this is the case, he exhales a long breath and rests his head against the wooden wall behind him, sitting in a sprawl, sweat already glistening on his skin. The heat slowly crawls beneath his skin, stimulating every cell of his body, the musky scent of his surroundings making a haze appear in his mind.

Hot curls of steam and the scent of pine and cedar mixed with the smell of some essential oil wrap around Azriel like a cloak that slowly pulls him toward oblivion. He exhales slowly, and his treacherous mind allows him to entertain thoughts he never imagined he would think about. Perhaps it's the warmth of the fire that triggers such fantasies.

But he sees him, clearly, right in front of him — Eris. With a smile on his lips, and a hooded gaze. Sweat also glistens on his pale skin. Most of his body is hidden by fog, or steam, yet the upper half, his pale skin, and all the corded muscles are bare. Eris’ hair is tied back in a low ponytail, his lush lips parting with every word he says. Yet, Azriel can’t make out a single thing he says, but he doesn’t care. He only watches him and relishes in the sight that is provided to him. He looks so good, Azriel thinks, even if this is just happening in his mind.

In his fantasy, Autumn Court male nears him, smirking and then he crouches down. Azriel feels how his cock hardens, something that shouldn’t fucking happen when he is in the birchin, nude as the day he was born. He tries to shake off the thoughts, not allowing his mind to go down this path.

He tries to direct his thoughts elsewhere – to Eris’ chest (which also doesn’t help). But if he remembers correctly, Azriel has never seen Eris without a jacket or shirt, he should have no idea what his chest looks like. And actually he doesn’t! Of course, he has never seen Eris without a shirt. This is all his imagination, it is not real, this is—

“You truly think Eris cares about him?”

Azriel's eyes snap open instantly, widening as he gazes at Cassian. Fuck, haven’t his mental shields been up? He panics the slightest bit, heart beating a tang faster.

“Lucien is his brother,” Rhys answers, his head hanging low between his knees, hands crossed behind his neck.

Cauldron be blessed, Azriel thinks, Cassian was talking about Lucien and not about him.

“That doesn’t mean he cares.” Cassian shakes his head, his lower arms braced on his strong thighs, hair unbound, falling in curls over his broad and sweat-glazed shoulders.

But Rhys shakes his head, a contemplative look on his face. His eyes touch Azriel’s when he says, “I think he cares. Eris is…many things. But I know he cares about some people. He cares about Lucien. He cares about his family.”

“He‘s a dickhead, first and foremost of all,” Cassian grumbles, and Azriel feels a sudden surge of anger within him that he can’t quite place nor find a reason for.

“But I have to admit you might be right. We don’t know what Beron does to him, or any of his brothers. Or what the hell Beron does to the Lady of the Autumn Court, so I guess you might be right. With everything he has seen and been through…there might be some people he wants to protect.” Cassian swallows and brushes a few curls of hair out of his face. “On the other hand, this also makes me wary – why he doesn’t finally act and put an end to it. Doesn’t he want to finally have change in his court? Change for good I mean.”

Rhysand blows out a long breath and straightens up. He chews on the inside of his cheek for a moment, then gives his head a shake. “I know what this feels like, Cass.” Rhys brings up a hand and clears his face off the sweat. “You think that back then I had never thought of ending my father’s reign?”

The High Lord tips his head back. “As much as you hate them and want them to be gone, to put an end to it all, they are still your fathers. It is something you can’t do just like that. Something you need to prepare for. Because once it is done, you have to live with it.” He swallows thickly. “You have to live with the knowledge that you killed your own father. That your father’s blood was spilled by his own son’ hands.”

Azriel’s stomach squeezes at that. Rhys is right, he has never thought about it like that and he shouldn’t have Eris pushed like that back then. It was wrong.

Silence falls over them, each one of them probably digesting what Rhys has said.

“You believe that Beron tortures him?” Cassian asks after a moment. His shoulders are dropped, emotions Azriel can’t quite place swirling in the general’s eyes.

“I doubt there is anyone in his near surrounding he doesn’t torture."

The back of Azriel’s throat is aching, just like his jaw, grinding his teeth hard. His fingers flex and then curl toward his palms — the only possible way to keep the sudden fury somehow under control.

“He uses his,” —Cassian‘s gaze touches Azriel’s and then locks, sympathy within his brown eyes— “firepowers on Eris?”

It feels like Azriel’s whole body convulses and he needs to hold onto the bench beneath him to keep from breaking. Or…heading right for the Autumn Court, doing what Eris should have long done. Ending the High Lord of the Autumn Court’s life, making him bleed and suffer for everything he has done.

“We don’t know,” Rhys says, “and we also shouldn’t make speculations. Eris‘ business with his father is none of our concern.” He brushes his hair back. “Our concern is only Beron‘s death and the future of Prythian.”

But it isn’t, Azriel thinks. He has always thought…

Azriel shakes his head. He has no idea what he has always thought, but he has never considered that Eris might be equally afraid of fire as he himself is. Beron might torture him with fire. Eris asked about Azriel’s scars, maybe because similar scars grace his skin…

As awareness spreads, his chest tightens and starts to ache so fiercely he has to place his hand atop his heart. His throat constricts when he tries to swallow and suddenly he feels a little dizzy.

“And keeping Lucien safe,” Cassian adds.

“He will leave for the Mortal Lands tomorrow.” Rhys leans back against the wall, shoulders relaxed as if he is talking about the weather and not the possible danger that may be lurking in the Mortal Lands for Lucien.

“That’s safe?” Azriel asks, and turns his head to look at his brother.

Rhys shrugs a casual shoulder. “He wouldn’t change his mind. I talked to him, but he said he wanted to leave. We can’t force him to stay here, it is his decision, not ours.”

The High Lord exhales a long breath. “He is a warrior and Jurian is there as well, to fight and protect.”

“But also Vassa and you know who Vassa is connected to.” Honest worry rings in Cassian’s voice, his chest heaving with deep inhales.

Rhys only gives his head a little shake. “As I said before: he wants to leave and we can’t force him to stay here. It's Lucien's decision, not ours. In his life, many decisions have been taken from him. We have to allow him his freedom now.” The discussion is over for Rhys, that is clear.

“Lucien is a grown-up fae male, powerful and strong, if he considers going to the Mortal Lands right, then we should listen to him.”

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

“Your brother?” The female’s voice is nothing more than a hushed whisper.

With a somber expression, Eris tilts his chin downward. “They talked about him in the meeting earlier. I need you to keep an eye on the lord now.”

“Lord Karbaron?” Cenka turns her big brown eyes to the heir of the Autumn Court who is towering over the small female. Her shoulders are slouched, her lower lip pouted the slightest bit while she is nibbling on it.

Cenke is his only spy. The only loyal person he has in this court, safe for his mother and maybe one or the other of his brothers. She is young, and in all honesty, Eris doesn’t really know where she comes from. He barely knows anything about her, only that she is loyal to him and that he can trust her – she has proven that over and over again.

Her long auburn hair is tied back into a tight braid that reaches down to her hips where there is a belt with many daggers. Daggers Eris has provided her with after hours and hours of secret training, preparing her for any kind of danger that she could possibly face in the future.

Slowly Eris dips his chin. He knows Lord Karbaron. He has been his father‘s closest advisor for centuries. Whatever the High Lord does, the Lord knows about.

“I need you to follow him. And bring me all the information you can get. I know he knows more than we think, more than anyone else in this court does.”

“More than you do?”

A cold chuckle leaves Eris. “Most definitely.”

Cenka dips her pale chin, fingers threaded in front of her body. Eris reaches forward to touch her – something he never does– and his broad hand fully grasps her small, bony shoulder. “I have faith in you. I know you can do this, Lady Cenka.”

She nods, purses her lips and determination fills her dark brown eyes. “I‘ll try my very best, Lord Eris. For a better future." She smiles, her whole face lighting up and in the next moment she is gone, the only hint of her former presence in his office the now open window she slipped out of.

Eris keeps his gaze on the window, a contemplative look passing over his face. He brings up his hand, rubs his palm over his chin and draws in a deep inhale. The long curtains, moving due to the breeze blowing in through the window, brush his shins, his eyes now focused on the rain drops, lazily falling from the sky.

He knows he can trust Cenka, she would never betray him. Not like his brothers. He can’t trust them. As much as he wants to, he can’t bring himself to fully trust them…but he will try.

Eris turns away from the window and finally closes it, his hands cold. He flexes his fingers when a kernel of remorse and worry takes root in his chest. What if Beron finds out about her, what if he finds her, what if—

He won‘t! There is no way Beron will find out that he also has a spy now. Cenka is brilliant at her job, almost like a shadow wrath, no one will catch her.

Afterall, she is not…a giant, idiotic bat that easily gets caught…

Which reminds him that he has a letter to send. Not only one actually, but a few. So, turning from the window, Eris stalks to his desk, pulls back the old oak chair and sits down.

Using a pen that once was a present from his mother, he starts to write – only a few cryptic words that the recipients will understand, but not Beron (if the letters should land in his hands) and then he sends off the letters and hope comes alive within his chest.

tag list for ACOCD @hnyclover @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @queercontrarian @fandomsmultiverse @acourtofbatboydreams @chunkypossum @baileybird71 @beckkthewreck @hells-sluttiest-new-arrival @owllover123 @acotarobsessed @goldenmagnolias @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @v3lv3tf0x @talibunny30 @allyhill @popjunkie42 @skyesayshi @going-through-shit @mybestfriendmademe @12334555666 @nickishadow139

general Azris tag list: @azrielsbabyg @lady-riel @moonlightazriel @aayo-whatt @brekkershadowsinger @ladyelain @banasheefan56 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @ofduskanddreams

#azris

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lady-riel · 20 days

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Eris: *sneers* All pretty face and no brains huh Azriel: Azriel: So you think I’m pretty? Eris: I meant it as an insult. Azriel: Sure you did. Eris: Azriel: Eris: I MEANT IT AS AN INSULT Azriel: Sounds like you have a little crush. Eris: How dare you.

#incorrect acotar quotes #azris incorrect quote #azris #azriel #eris vanserra

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lady-riel · 21 days

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azriel x eris | 2,9k words | warnings: none | masterlist

“Don’t you like it? Your present.” Cassian claims the spot right next to Azriel on the couch, letting himself slump against the soft pillow and bracing his arm on the headrest behind Azriel. The shadowsinger offers his brother a small smile.

“I do like it, Cass.” He looks at the package of beef jerky in his hands. “I really do like it.

A contented smile blooms on the general‘s face, but Azriel’s gaze strays and—

He feels nothing. Absolutely nonchalance fills his entire being at the scene that unfolds itself in front of him. Just a year ago it would have destroyed him, broken his heart but now…?

Nothing. Indifference.

Elain is seated next to Lucien, a spectacle since she formerly has hardly ever sought him out or chosen to be anywhere near him. But now she is sitting there, next to him, a fine distance between them, but she is still next to him and in her hands there is a present with beautiful green wrapping and a golden bow on top of it.

The look of silent surprise stays on Lucien’s face, eyes solely trained on his mate, almost like the world around them has faded into insignificance, like nothing in this room matters more to him than Elain does.

A pang of jealousy fills Azriel’s heart, and he clenches his jaw. He is not jealous of Lucien, more about everyone who has someone who loves them. He wants someone to look at him that way—he wants to look at someone that way. He wants someone who—

He wants a mate! Nothing has changed about that. He wants love and a fucking mating bond.

“This is for you.” Azriel can’t hear Elain from across the room but he can read her lips well enough and turns away.

“Have you opened Nes‘ present?” Cassian looks so joyful and Azriel wants nothing more than to share this bliss with him, but it is so hard at this moment.

“Loved it.” The shadowsinger forces a smile onto his lips—one that doesn’t reach his eyes but it is the most he can offer his brother.

“She loved yours as well.”

Azriel’s face reveals nothing, but he dips his chin and despite his outer nonchalance, his heart warms. He bought bookmarks for the three Valkyries. Not any kind of bookmarks, but three that specifically represented them. He can’t wait to give Gwyn hers, and see the smile on her face.

Nyx is the one to receive the most presents, no one having been able to resist buying tons of things for him. He looks a bit overwhelmed at one point, just staring wide-eyed at the large pile of all sorts of things in front of him. Nevertheless he seems blissful and content, sitting amidst all his toys and stuffed animals.

Azriel is happy that Nyx gets to experience this sort of childhood and happiness. He is surrounded by nothing but love and joy (neglecting the brewing war and Koschei for a moment). Within the confines of Velaris he is safe and protected and can be a happy child. Something Rhys, Cass and Azriel himself did not have – a happy, careless childhood.

A lump forms in Azriel’s throat and he gets up. He tells Cassian that he will help himself to a drink so he has an excuse to leave the room. He just needs to get out for a moment – needs a moment for himself.

Once in the kitchen, the shadowsinger braces his broad, scarred hands on the sink, staring out of the window into the dark and snow-covered garden, faelight dancing on the endless, glittering white. Tilting his head to the side, he rests it on his shoulder and looses a long breath. Involuntarily, his mind wanders to a certain prince of the Autumn Court and he wonders how Eris celebrates Solstice. Do they even celebrate it in Autumn?

He can’t understand why he kissed him again that night after the ball. What had driven him? What made him kiss the heir again? What is it about Eris that attracts him that much?

Azriel knows that he can’t allow these feelings, but staying away from Eris and trying to clamp down on them, slowly shreds his heart into pieces. As much as he wants to get rid of his desire for Eris, he can’t. He finds himself in a wholly messed up situation, and everything path outwards, turns into a dead end without a hope of escaping.

And furthermore, what if there was more between him and Eris, could he bring him to celebrate Solstice with him? Starfall? Their birthdays?

How would the others react? Would they allow Eris to come here for such a celebration or would there forever be an odd tension? A feeling as is not everything is alright? Of course it would. It wouldn’t be proper. It wouldn’t work out.

But, anyway, it will never come to that, Azriel knows this. Maybe their tension and desire will lead to them eventually fucking one day, but further than that…nothing. They will never end up in a relationship with each other, it couldn’t work out. Not between the two of them. Not with the hate still lingering between them. Too much has happened.

“Thank you for your present.”

Azriel whips around, eyes landing on Nesta who casually leans against the doorframe, her head resting on the dark wood. “I love it, it is wonderful.” A beautiful, warm smile appears on her face.

Azriel bows his head, his shadows swirling around him.

“Especially that it matches with Gwyn’s and Emerie’s.” Her smile brightens.

“I’m glad you like it.” The shadowsinger cracks a small smile and rests his weight against the kitchen counter. In her eyes he sees the silent understanding that always glows within the light blue when she looks at him. Nesta knows that things aren’t so easy for Azriel, and she understands and accepts him the way he is. Respects his silence. Nevertheless, she always looks out for him, asks how he is doing, sits down in the living room with him when he returns from a mission and is just there for him, mostly no conversation passing between them. But Nesta always wants him to know that she is there for him. She is a wonderful friend, and Azriel is happy that he can call her such.

“Do you need anything, Az?” Nesta asks and pushes off the doorframe. “Can I get you something?”

But Azriel shakes his head, shadows gliding down his arms, to his palms and around his hands. “I’m all good. I just needed a moment…”

Her head dips in understanding and with another small smile she slips back into the living room, Azriel’s gaze following her until she is gone.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

“Where are you going?” A cool breeze weaves its way in through the open balcony door, winding its way across the room until it reaches the general of the Illyrian armies, who stands with his wings folded neatly behind his back.

Azriel takes a step back. “I‘m leaving now.”

Cassian’s puckers his brows. “It isn’t even midnight, Az, why would you be leaving now?”

“I‘m tired.”

“Does this have to do with what you told me the other day?”

Azriel frowns, but then the corners of his mouth turn downward and his shoulders droop. There is no need for him to say yes, Cassian can read him well enough, having known Azriel nearly his entire life, and has already seen the answer in his best friend’s eyes.

“Az.” Cassian moves quickly and reaches for his best friend the moment he is close enough. Despite Azriel’s efforts of shoving his arms away, Cassian pulls him to his chest, and holds him. It is all he does. And all Azriel needs. His body reacts and he slumps against Cassian, the last ounce of energy slipping from his body, exhaustion weighing him down like a heavy cloak. And his restraints loosen, given way to all the emotions he has been clamping down on this evening.

“I fucking hate it, Cass,” he finally admits, each word lifting some of the heavy weight from his heart. “Being jealous of what everyone has. I shouldn’t be, that’s not how friendship or family works. I‘m a fucking asshole for thinking that way.”

Cassian says nothing, but he holds him tighter. Azriel’s chest heaves with a deep inhale.

“I can’t do this anymore.” Azriel trembles. “Every step forward feels like wading through quicksand. Everything is pulling me down, until I‘m swallowed wholly, drowning in my fucking despair. Each and every day more of my happiness slips through my fingers, until one day I know nothing will be left.”

“Az.” Cassian’s hand clasps the back of Azriel’s head, holding him tightly. “Why didn’t you come to me earlier?”

“I couldn’t,” Azriel says in a silent voice. “I didn’t even realise what was going on.”

After a moment they part, but Cassian does not let go of his best friend, he grasps his shoulder tightly and says, “You are not an asshole for wanting what others have. For wanting a mate, or love or happiness.” The general smiles kindly.

“You would be an asshole if you didn’t grant us our happiness, but I know you are happy for us and that can’t possibly make you an asshole.”

Azriel tightly holds onto Cassian until he steps out of his embrace. “It’s just difficult for me right now.”

“I know,” Cassian says and Azriel’s heart feels hollow all of a sudden. Cassian says he knows, but Azriel is aware that it's only a fraction of the truth because the shadowsinger can’t share everything with his brother and it slowly destroys him.

Yes, he is feeling this way, sad and somehow tormented because everyone around him is falling in love and finding a mate. Everyone but him. But Azriel also feels that way because of Eris. Because he slowly starts to figure out what that emotion deep within his heart means. And also what the tug at his chest, the glowing of his soul whenever Eris is near, hints at. He doesn’t want to accept it, tries to push the thoughts away, but at some people he will have to deal with.

“I think I just need some rest tonight. Solstice was beautiful, but I am really tired.”

Cassian understands, and of course gives his best friend the space he needs.

When Azriel returns to his flat only moments later, the place so cold and empty even his shadows seek comfort with their owner, Azriel strips out of his clothes, safe for his underwear and pours himself a glass of liquor. Then he walks up to the window, and longingly stares out into the darkness and nothingness of the outside world. He loves to look out on this side of his flat – no city lights, no people. Where on the one side, his flat is looking down upon the city of Velaris, on the other side there is nothing but forest and mountains.

Azriel rests his forehead against the cool glass after having taken a sip of the liquid that now burns its way down his throat.

"If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, but stay away from her” is what Rhysand had told him the previous year and Azriel also ended up being alone that night of Solstice, staring out of the window for a long time before heading up to the training pitch. He felt so ashamed and annoyed that night, Azriel can barely allow himself to think back to it.

This year it is different. This year he is truly all alone, and despite it being an odd feeling it is simultaneously not unwelcome. The shadowsinger can be alone here with his thoughts that make no sense and his heart that beats an ounce faster when his mind once again strays to Eris.

The Mother isn’t making it easy for him, Azriel knows this. First, Mor. Then Elain. And now Eris. But with Eris it is different. He is a male first and foremost all, and his enemy. Only months ago, he loathed him, hated him so much for what he had done to Mor, what he had said about her.

But slowly realisation is taking root in his brain in that he and the prince to the Autumn Court might have more in common than he used to think.

Azriel releases a pent-up breath and as he holds his gaze through the window, he realises that a darkness gathers in his eyes until it fills them completely.

In the end, it is exhaustion after an emotionally draining day that makes Azriel fall into bed, sheets tucked up to his chin, lids heavy and nothing but Eris on his mind.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

The Autumn Court prince’s eyes follow a single droplet that slides down the floor-to-ceiling window before he turns around, knuckles white from how tightly he is holding onto his glass of wine.

“I doubt Kallax is coming for Solstice,” he tells no one in particular, knowing his father doesn’t listen and his mother is heart-broken about it but doesn’t let it show.

Beron snarls, “I couldn’t care less.”

But that is wrong, Eris can see it in his father’s eyes, knows that it bothers his father more than he would admit. Despite not having experienced any kind of love from his father when growing up, he knows that for Beron family was always something important. The picture of their family —mother, father and their seven or six strong, powerful sons— always needed to be perfect. It is the kind of thing Beron values greatly.

Eris moves to the table and sits down in silence, once again mixing together most of the food the sentries have placed on his plate.

“The jacket you have chosen is beautiful,” Imala says in a gentle tone, her eyes moving over Eris’ attire. Has he donned this jacket specially for Solstice? No, he hasn’t. Rather for himself.

“Cobalt doesn’t fit the Autumn Court,” is all Beron says, not even deigning his son a real look, merely lifting his gaze from his plate, his tone a mix of annoyance and mock.

He takes a bite of meat, chewing so loudly, Eris has to cringe. He hates the noise of chewing and especially when it comes from his father. He grinds his teeth hard and then pins the High Lord with a look.

Beron ignores it, but eventually swallows only so he can talk again. “It suits the Night Court.”

Eris’ blood runs cold and he has no idea what his father is aiming at. Can he scent Azriel on him? Can he scent what they have done?

“Which makes me think,” Beron continues, speaking in a low, and slow voice, dragging his fork through his mashed potatoes. “Was Lucien there?” The question does not only catch Eris off guard but also his mother.

Eris decides to act dumb, despite that never being a good idea with his father. “What?” he asks, not lifting his eyes from his plate and scooping up a bit of the mashed potatoes (now) mixed with beans and gravy.

“Spare me with your stupidity, son, and answer my question!” Beron spits, voice dripping with venom. “Was Lucien there?”

“No, he wasn’t.”

“Are you sure?”

“He wasn’t there, father!”

Beron shakes his head. “But his pretty, little mate was there.” No question, but a statement.

“I don’t think so.” Eris swallows thickly, the piece of meat nearly getting stuck in his throat. He won’t put Elain in danger. Never and especially not after the kindness she has shown him.

“What does that mean? That you don‘t think so. Was she there or not?!” Beron’s fork clatters to the table, rattling both the plate and his glass of wine.

“I didn’t see her, father.”

Eris doesn’t understand what his father grumbles in answer, but the annoyance and dismissal are loud and clear within the incomprehensible words.

“At least she isn’t inferior scum like Jesminda was.” Beron shoves his plate back, tipping his chin so two of the sentries come rushing to collect his dishes.

Eris veils his face in indifference and says nothing. Everything he could say would lead to a big fight and he is too exhausted to go through this now. And then what follows a fight with Beron – punishment. Whatever he could say wouldn’t change anything anyway – it is useless. With Beron it always is.

Without a word, Eris slowly moves back his own plate, then his chair and gets up.

“Good night, mother,” he says, then turns to his father and dips his chin.

He is alone when he arrives in his room and this is good. He wants to be alone, safe for his hounds, of course, who have already claimed their spots on and around his bed.

He exhales loudly while undressing and untangling his long strands of red hair.

Beron. Lucien. Azriel. It is only males that make his life complicated. Well, not entirely. Mor has also created many complications for him, but still, the great majority of his problems are caused by males, and lie within the males in his life.

He needs to fix it all. He needs to make sense of everything, put things in order. And he will start with Beron. Putting an end to it and then starting anew. Beron’s reign has to end, and it has to end soon. No more time can be wasted.

general Azris tag list: @azrielsbabyg @lady-riel @moonlightazriel @aayo-whatt @brekkershadowsinger @ladyelain @banasheefan56 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @ofduskanddreams

#azris #love a good Beron kill scene #bring it on #angsty broody az is the best

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lady-riel · 23 days

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Eris: There’s something I meant to tell you and now I forgot it. Azriel: Eris: After so many years together you really should be able to just read my mind. Azriel: That’s not within my skill set. Would you like me to interrogate it out of you? Eris: Eris: Eris: Eris: Would it be a fun interrogation? Azriel: All my interrogations are fun.

#incorrect acotar quotes #azris incorrect quote #azris #azriel #eris vanserra

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lady-riel · 24 days

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Can someone who's read CC3 tell me (without spoilers pls) roughly what percentage of the book involves acotar characters? thank you

#cc hofas #crescent city #house of flame and shadow #cc3 hofas #cc3

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lady-riel · 25 days

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azriel x eris | 2,3k words | warnings: explicit wording | masterlist read on ao3

His lips still tingle from the sensation of tasting Azriel’s skin. He nearly lost control, but thank the Mother and the Cauldron he could catch himself before it got too far. He couldn’t have allowed it —for Azriel to have such power over him.

This damn male, this dumbass bastard, this Illyrian brute, just pulls out the rug from underneath his feet every time he sees him and Eris hates it, hates the effect the Illyrian has on him.

Why does it have to be Azriel? Why exactly him?

Eris‘ head hangs low, hands folded behind his neck. Why out of all males in Prythian did it have to be him? the heir asks himself.

There might not have been a worse choice. Well, Eris thinks, there actually could have been: Cassian. He would have undoubtedly been worse, for multiple reasons.

Inhaling deeply, the Autumn Court prince straightens, and lets himself fall back onto the bed.

When he gets comfortable beneath the blanket, his head now resting on a soft, silken pillow, and his gaze moving toward the window, he concludes that life must really hate him.

Because with Azriel in his life, he knows he will never ever feel so strongly —at least not in that way— for any other individual. And that thought breaks him. Because even if the whole thing with the shadowsinger is intriguing and he wants nothing more than to kiss him again, to hold him, to bed him, he knows there can never be more between them. He will never find the love of his life in a male that loathes him.

Azriel should be nothing to him, but he is a distraction – not one that is welcome. Eris doesn’t need the shadowsinger on top of the turmoil already brewing around and within him. Azriel will only complicate things further, make them even more complex than they already are.

Eris needs to concentrate on what truly matters at this moment – his heart can wait, as it has been neglected throughout his life.

And when he is ready to commit, when he is ready to marry, Azriel hopefully may no longer be in his life, or cross his path ever again, so that Eris can choose another lover. Someone suitable for him. Someone…who is not an Illyrian brute…

The two words hollow through his mind.

Eris has said things to Azriel that weren’t alright. Things he truly regrets. Things he can never take back. He knows these words have hurt Azriel, more than they should have and he doesn’t understand the reason for it. Azriel hates him, only desires his body, he should have been nonchalant about those words.

Eris opens his eyes, his hands folded beneath his head and stares at the ceiling. Tomorrow he needs to tell Rhysand about having overheard Beron talk about Lucien and that his little brother might be in danger. The Night Court has to know, only so they can protect him.

He would love to tell Lucien himself, but he doubts his little brother would listen, or believe. Too much time lies between them, too much has happened.

Things Eris can only change in the future. Only when Beron is gone.

Slowly, Eris‘ lids close and then the Mother throws her veil if darkness and oblivion over him like a soft blanket.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Soft snores dance on the chilly evening air, reaching Azriel through the wall between their rooms, the only thing separating him and Eris.

The shadowsinger’s eyes are trained on the dark ceiling, nothing but a thin bed sheet covering his otherwise bare body, his skin still hot, taut.

Has Eris been thinking about him as well?, Azriel ask himself, wondering what Eris has been doing the whole time that lay between him leaving the Autumn Court prince‘s room and said Autumn Court prince now being peacefully asleep.

Azriel’s jaw aches from how hard he has been grinding his teeth, the desire in his veins, the heat, not dissipating. Not even undressing helped him cool down. Nothing helps…

Not when all he sees when he closes his lids, are Eris‘ beautiful eyes and his wicked mouth. That damn mouth he just wants to kiss again and feel everywhere on his body.

Azriel has been pacing for what felt like hours, years, centuries, trying to shake the lust and desire from his body. He doesn’t understand the effect Eris has on him. It makes no sense, but it slowly makes him go insane.

Only a few months ago, he hadn’t even fully realised he liked males as well. And now, now the only thing he can think about is Eris. His hands, his tall frame, his eyes, his lips.

Out of everyone, it has to be Eris fucking Vanserra. The asshole, the cruel bastard, the—

But the way he touched him, the feel of his lips, the taste of his skin, how gently he guided them, how they danced, the honest concern in his eyes when he asked about the scars, the heat and passion in them just a few minutes later.

Azriel throws his head back, strands of hair shifting with the movement, his cock hardening between his legs.

He can’t fight it anymore.

The shadowsinger’s hand slowly glides down his abdomen, shoving the thin blanket down his thighs, finally giving in to the lust brewing within his veins. His hand wraps around the base of his hard length, fingers curling, giving himself one firm stroke.

“Fuck.” Azriel’s head tips back and with the next stroke it is Eris' hand he imagines. He can’t stop it and he also doesn’t want to. The fantasy just feels too good.

The thought of Eris, this sweet, delicious and obscene fantasy blooming within him, lifts a weight from Azriel’s shoulder and makes him feel lighter.

He strokes himself hard, no light caress - no, he takes himself the way he thinks Eris would take him. Hard and mercilessly, kneeling between his thighs, sucking him hard, maybe using his teeth as well. He would be cruel to him in the bedroom, make Azriel beg and plead, and something about this thought intrigues Azriel. He fucking loves it.

And the thought of Eris, the powerful and cunning heir to the Autumn Court being on his knees for him, and still being the one in power, the dominant one who leads them, already brings Azriel close to the edge.

Maybe Eris would tie his hands to the bed, or bend him over the armrest of his throne and take him hard from behind. Azriel’s skin tightens, and a tremor runs through him. Fuck, Azriel thinks, sex with Eris could only be amazing. Autumn Court males have fire in their blood, is the saying, and the fuck like it too.

The spymaster comes with a low shout, his seed coating his hand and chest, but Azriel does not immediately move to clean himself. Legs and arms spread wide from his body, he lays there, chest heaving rapidly, sweat glazing his skin. But there is a small smile on his lips, a sad smile.

Because none of the things he has just fantasised about will ever become reality. They will stay a fantasy. And that until the last day of his immortal life.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

“I need you to protect Lucien!”

A huff parts Cassian‘s lips. “You are telling us to protect Lucien? Since you informed us that he is in danger it is what we will do anyway. Don’t act like you care, Eris.”

The Autumn Court prince bristles and then shakes his head. The audacity of the general… as if Cassian has any idea…

Eris’ voice is loud and firm, his broad hands slamming down on the table in front of him. “Not everything I’ve done in the past was always good, and I might seem like I don’t care about him, but Lucien is still my little brother and if Beron is after him, he needs your protection. I can’t do anything. I-I don’t even know where he is.”

And I have failed him once, he wants to add but leaves unsaid. I’ve failed my little brother once and I can’t risk this again.

Eris’s shoulders rise with a deep inhale, his jacket straining slightly. Silence falls upon the room, Eris intently looks at Cassian, waiting for a reaction and slowly the general dips his chin.

Azriel, although feeling a pull to move closer, stays at the door, not able to go near them. Neither Cassian, nor Eris.

He is lying to his brother, not telling him the whole truth, and this weighs heavily on him. His whole body feels too tight, too small, like he needs to break out and finally put all the cards on the table. Tell Cassian the whole truth. Tell Cassian about the secret meetings with Eris. Tell him about the strange desire brewing within him. Tell him…everything.

And tell Eris what is going on in his mind and how he makes him feel. But he can never do that and yet it doesn’t change anything about the fact that the male makes him go mad – with desire. Need. Passion. He has never felt so strongly. Not for Elain. And not even for—

“Morrigan.” Eris‘ voice is too polite and it confuses Azriel so much he is ripped out of his thoughts.

She doesn’t even deign Eris a glance, only walks past him, up to Feyre who has a hand on the small crib Nyx is sleeping in. Eris knows that it is a major sign of trust and loyalty that he is allowed here, next to the heir of the Night Court.

“Why would Beron want Lucien dead?” Morrigan asks, still not looking at Eris. “He has no claim for the Autumn Court throne.”

“But for the Day Court one.”

“And he could become High King of Prythian.” Amren, if Eris remembers correctly, moves to the table next to him. She is a short female, but radiates ancient power. “He combines the strengths of two courts,” she explains.

Amren looks up at Eris. “Your father is cruel, but he is not dumb. He must know that and fear it as much.”

Eris slowly bows his head. He has considered that before. He doubts Lucien would want the position, but Beron doesn’t know that. He must think that it is Lucien’s plan, becoming High King of Prythian.

“Does he know? That he is–” Eris’ voice breaks, and the tall male suddenly appears so vulnerable, so much smaller, so much younger. “That he isn’t Beron’s son? Did you tell him? Does he know?”

Eris looks around in the room, hoping to catch someone’s gaze, hoping to catch an answer in someone’s eyes before the spoken confirmation hits him too hard. It is Feyre who slowly bows her head. “We have informed him. After the…after the incident with Briallyn. After you went back to the Autumn Court, we told him. He knows.”

The truth hurts because that means that his little brother, his little Lucien, now knows that they are no actual brothers. Only half brothers. Their childhood has been a lie.

Centuries ago, Lucien likely saw Eris as a brother. But does he still feel the same now? Even though they have different fathers, would Lucien ever view Eris as a brother again, after everything that has occurred? Eris still cares for him as he did years ago, but he doubts the feeling is mutual, and he can't blame Lucien for it.

He wants to ask how Lucien reacted, but he can imagine. First shock, then the aftermath of it, surprise, relief maybe – after all he is not Beron’s son and this is nothing but positive. Then confusion, denial, acceptance. Joy?

Even though it hurts that Lucien might have been quite relieved to find out he is not Beron’s son and hence is only Eris’ half brother, the heir to the Autumn Court feels a small kernel of happiness bloom even within his chest. Lucien deserves the sort of family that cares about him, and since the family he was born into couldn’t provide him with a loving surrounding, he might now be able to get it. With Helion?

“Does Lucien know about…” Eris shakes his head. “Does Lucien entertain the idea of becoming High King?”

“No.” Many heads turn to look at Rhysand sliding his hands into the pockets of his pants. “I had a talk with him, just him and I, and he said it isn’t something he would want. Prythian should have no High King, it would make the system tumble.”

Clever little fox, Eris thinks and a small smile spreads over his face that fades as quickly as it appeared. “You need to protect him.” He straightens his posture and blows out a deep breath. “You need to protect Lucien. My father doesn’t let me in on everything he is planning lately and especially not on the things about Lucien. He needs to have a place where he is safe.”

The High Lady of the Night Court assures Eris that when Lucien is in the Night Court, he will have their protection, everywhere else

Eris accepts this, not having much more time for discussion as he needs to return to the Autumn Court. He doesn’t deign Azriel another glance before he says his good byes and strolls out of the large white doors of the Moonstone Palace with the same exact arrogance and elegance he donned when arriving at the Hewn City the previous day.

His indifference towards Azriel sends a pang of hurt right into the shadowsinger’s heart, but it is alright the way it is, Azriel thinks. There can never be anything between them, no matter the rising desire and passion between their souls. Whatever is between them has to end, and can not develop any further.

tag list for ACOCD @hnyclover@honeysuckle-daydreams13 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @queercontrarian @fandomsmultiverse @acourtofbatboydreams @chunkypossum @baileybird71 @beckkthewreck @hells-sluttiest-new-arrival @owllover123 @acotarobsessed @goldenmagnolias @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @v3lv3tf0x @talibunny30 @allyhill @popjunkie42 @skyesayshi @going-through-shit @mybestfriendmademe @12334555666 @nickishadow139

general Azris tag list: @azrielsbabyg @lady-riel @moonlightazriel @aayo-whatt @brekkershadowsinger @ladyelain @banasheefan56 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @ofduskanddreams

#loved this #and the smut omg yes #azris

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lady-riel · 26 days

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*Clueless, Azris version* Eris: My healer doesn’t want me doing anything where balls fly at my nose. Azriel: There goes our sex life.

#incorrect acotar quotes #azris incorrect quote #azris #azriel #eris vanserra

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lady-riel · 27 days

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Azriel: You want to know what I think? Eris: Not particularly. Azriel: I think there are two marbles rolling around in your head and they occasionally bump into each other. Eris: Azriel: Eris: Azriel: Eris: Like in a sexual way?

#incorrect acotar quotes #azris incorrect quote #azris #azriel #eris vanserra

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lady-riel · 29 days

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Azriel: Why are you on the floor? Eris: I dropped a pen. Azriel: Azriel: If you want to suck my dick you just have to say so. No need to make shit up. Eris: Azriel: Eris: Fine.

#incorrect acotar quotes #azris incorrect quote #azris #azriel #eris vanserra

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lady-riel · 1 month

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Eris: I’m straight as an arrow. Azriel: Eris: Azriel: Is the arrow bent under the weight of your delusion? Eris: Azriel: Eris: Maybe a hot brute sat on it.

#incorrect acotar quotes #azris incorrect quote #azris #azriel #eris vanserra

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lady-riel · 1 month

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azriel x eris | 2,7k words | warnings: none | masterlist

The crisp night air brushes Azriel’s wings and cools his burning hot skin. A welcome feeling due to the heat blossoming in his chest, and simmering within his veins.

Flying with a male of Eris’ size is not easy, but with the Autumn Court prince fitting so perfectly against him, it actually isn’t too difficult.

It almost feels like their bodies were made for each other and so Azriel manages to gracefully descend and land atop one of the balconies of the Moonstone Palace. He had shadow-winnowed them most of the way, but the last part they had to fly.

He helps Eris climb back to his feet, neither of them saying a word while doing so. They also didn’t talk while flying. Azriel only asked if he was too fast and teased Eris that if he felt sick he should tell him; Eris had only shown him a vulgar gesture and told him he liked it fast.

That alone was enough to heat Azriel’s blood and in combination with Eris’ scent and the close proximity and warmth of the heir’s body, it nearly made Azriel navigate them into one of the towering buildings of Velaris.

But Eris didn’t even notice the reaction he caused in Azriel, being too occupied with admiring and gaping at the brightly lit city below them.

Before this moment, the spymaster has never seen the Autumn Court prince like this — his lips parted, eyes aglow, and silent admiration etched upon his features. Eris always looks beautiful, but Azriel has to admit that in that moment, he looked absolutely breathtaking.

Silently, Eris follows Azriel through the corridors of the Moonstone Palace until they reach a door at the very back of the second floor, the walls made of white marble here, reflecting the moonlight. Some sconces grave the walls here and there.

“Your room,” Azriel’s voice is a little hoarse from not talking for a while. He extends his hand, and shows Eris into his room who follows without a word. His stroll his no longer so proud, but rather casual, long steps carrying him over the polished floor.

“Thank you,” Eris says once he is inside and after has taken a good look around the room. Rhysand is rich and so is the Night Court and they show it. In every little detail of the room it becomes visible how fortunate this court is.

Eris wants the same for the Autumn Court. He wants his court to thrive under his rule, for the money to be equally distributed amongst his people, no one having to suffer anymore or fear for their existence or their life.

Azriel rips him out of his thoughts about the future, the shadowsinger’s deep voice hollowing through the room and sending a chill down Eris’ arms.

“I want to apologise for what I said concerning Beron.” Azriel leans against the doorframe, his demeanour rather casual, but there is a whirlwind of emotions brewing within the hazel of his eyes. “It was wrong to push you, I know this and I’m sorry for it.”

Azriel hates nothing more than to admit that he has made a mistake, he is too proud to do so most times, but this time he can’t avoid it. He has to tell Eris that he is sorry and that what he said was wrong. It was a grand mistake and now he has to stand in for it.

“You weren’t wrong though,” Eris answers with a hint of gloom in his voice. He shrugs and then opens the cuffs on his cobalt jacket and places them on the dresser, then turns back to Azriel.

“I need to do something soon. Beron is going insane. I will tell you and the High Lord and Lady more about that tomorrow. I’m tired tonight, but what I can already share is that he is scared Summer will siege us. And he is–”

Eris cuts himself off and shakes his head.

“And he what?” Azriel takes a step into the room, the door falling close behind him with a soft thud. His shadows swirl around him, restless, as if they are in a hurry.

“I think he is after Lucien.”

“Because he’s Helion’s son?”

So, the Night Court already knows this. Eris doesn’t let his surprise show, veils his face in cool nonchalance and dips his chin. “We’ll discuss that tomorrow.”

The shadowsinger bows his head. His hand moves to the door handle and he opens the door, and starts to move. But Eris stops him when he says, “Good night, Shadowsinger.”

Azriel halts on the threshold, broad, scarred hand braced on the doorframe. His shoulders rise with a deep inhale.

Deafening silence falls over them, until—

“Dance with me.”

Azriel looks over his shoulder into Eris’ baffled face. Eris’ doesn’t move, nor answer. His feet are rooted to the ground, and for a moment Azriel thinks that the prince has stopped breathing.

“Dance with me,” the shadowsinger repeats and turns around completely. He lets the door fall shut behind him, leaning against it.

Eris still says nothing. Waits for Azriel to continue, caught in a stupor about this odd request. Azriel can’t possibly mean that.

"Dance with me like you danced with Elain." A small, almost sheepish smile blooms on Azriel‘s face. Eris is mesmerised by it, has never seen such beauty before. And there is also hope within the endless hazle, a little flicker of anticipation, glowing in Azriel’s eyes.

Questions burn on his tongue, accusations that go into the direction of Azriel being insane and completely round the bend, but none of them leave Eris’ mouth. His throat works on a swallow and eventually, and instead of any rude remark, he says, his voice low and a hint unsure, "I’ve never danced with a male before."

"There‘s always a first for everything." Azriel takes a tentative step forward. "Dance with me."

But Eris remains where he is, flexing his fingers at his side. "Why would I want to dance with you?" He swallows thickly. "Why would you want to dance with me?"

The smile on Azriel’s face does not fade. But it changes – turns from shy to bemused. "Because–”

Azriel‘s throat bobs and he gives his head a little shake. “I don’t know. I just want to dance with you – I want you to show me how to dance.”

Eris moves in closer, so close the tips of their shoes are touching. “You know how to dance. I saw you dance with Lady Nesta last year. So…” He pauses, waits for Azriel to lift his gaze to meet his own. “Why do you want to dance with me?”

“I have no reason for it, other than that I want to try it. That I want to dance with you.” Azriel’s eyes lock with Eris’. The usual void is gone, replaced by a flame that also ignites a spark in Eris’ empty chest.

The Autumn Court reaches out and takes Azriel’s hand into his.

It feels like lightning zips between their bodies, the little spark between their hands making them both pull back. Or wanting to. Eris holds onto Azriel’s hand, the heat against his palm an oddly welcome feeling. He had expected Azriel’s hands to be cold, ice cold, but they are warm. Callused, marred with many scars, but warm. And big.

“What happened to your hands?” Eris asks, knowing he shouldn't be asking questions like this and getting involved in things that aren't his business.

"Nothing important," Azriel whispers, slowly lifting his other hand and placing it carefully on Eris' broad shoulder.

But it does, the Autumn Court heir thinks, it does matter to him. Nevertheless, he won’t push Azriel to tell him. Obviously not. If Azriel is not ready to share, he has no right to force him to do so.

A little awkwardly, Eris’ hand moves to Azriel’s waist, resting atop the leathers, the Illyrian’s hard muscles still noticeable through the fabric.

Eris moves Azriel a little closer to him, positioning in the way he wants him. A sigh slips through the spymaster’s lips, his body rigid, tense.

Eris lets his eyes run over Azriel’s face. “We have no music.”

“Fuck,” Azriel curses below his breath. “I haven’t thought of that.”

Eris chuckles amusedly, the sound like a soft caress of Azriel’s skin. “They call you shadowsinger, I suppose you know how to sing,” the prince muses, the corner of his mouth moving up.

“I am a shadowsinger,” Azriel corrects him.

Eris smirks. “Well, since you are a shadowsinger, I’m sure you can sing.”

“You want me to sing for you?” Azriel’s chest feels a little tight, sweat building up on the back of his neck. He has never sung for anyone, except for Gwyn. Once after training, they sang together. But for someone else – for Eris – never. He is unsure and all of a sudden so incredibly nervous.

“For us,” Eris corrects him. “We need some music to dance to.”

Azriel decides to hum, because he also needs to focus on dancing and doing both singing and dancing at the same time with Eris being so close and his heart already nearly bursting through his ribcage due to being so nervous it would be too much.

Colour blooms high on the shadowsinger’s cheeks, the closeness to Eris so strangely comfortable he never wants to step away again. But it also makes him feel a little tense.

Never has he been so close to a male. Never has he been so close to Eris and not been entangled in a fight before. This is a strange and new position they find themselves in, but to his own astonishment, nothing about it feels strange. It feels oddly familiar and good.

And Eris must think the same. Otherwise he would move away, or would have said no to begin with. But Eris keeps close, his hands on Azriel’s body, warming his skin even through his Illyrian leathers. Azriel’s thoughts stray, imagining Eris’ hot hand against his bare skin. Wrapped around his–

“What are you thinking about?” Eris asks, the sound of his voice almost guttural. He scents Azriel’s arousal and it drives him insane.

Azriel’s blush intensifies, his breath catches and calling upon every small part of his rationality, he says, his voice way too breathy, “Dancing with you.”

A fire, one that Azriel has never seen before, flashes in Eris’ auburn eyes and with one strong pull, Eris moves Azriel’s body so close their chests are touching, their lips mere inches from the other, breathing the same air.

The air is charged with an unspoken tension, a mix of shyness, curiosity and nervousness. Neither of them has ever danced with another male before, and the fact that no one out of Azriel’s or Eris’ family knows about the moment they now share, or the ones they shared in past, hangs in the air like a delicate secret.

Eris leads them. Azriel allows him to do so, revelling in the moment of handing over the control to Eris.

At the beginning their movements are hesitant, first having to find a rhythm. Each step is careful, Eris’ thigh sliding between Azriel’s legs. Subtle yearning simmers beneath their skin that feels almost electrical, the pull within their chests drawing them closer and closer.

A contented chuckle parts Eris lips, and Azriel smiles. A secret, hidden smile, that Eris can’t see because he isn’t looking at Azriel’s face.

As the dance continues, their bodies start to move in harmony, creating a secret, intimate space where the outside world and all the people within it fade into insignificance. Azriel allows himself to enjoy this moment to the fullest, pushing away the feeling of betrayal and regret. This dance is yet another thing he can’t tell his best friends —his brothers— about.

In the quiet room, a few fae lights cast shadows upon the walls that resemble the ones swirling around Azriel, and now also around the Autumn Court prince.

“They like me?” Eris asks in a hushed voice, eyes following one of the shadows gliding up his arm.

“I guess they do,” Azriel answers him honestly, warmth once again seeping into his cheeks. He is surprised himself how they react to Eris; he wouldn’t have expected that.

Azriel continues to hum, creating a lovely symphony that accompanies their waltz. The occasional shy smiles exchanged between the two males speak volumes, creating an erratic feeling within their souls and making their hearts beat faster.

Their movements become more languid, the dance at some point slowing, coming to end too quickly.

However neither of them is yet ready to step away. It is almost like a veil lies upon them, keeping them safe within, shielding them from the uncertainty and the threats from the outside world.

Azriel moves in closer again, his hand slipping out of Eris’, but instead of pulling it back he slides it up Eris' chest and places it on his hard pectoral. Their fronts touch and he leans in, once again drawing in the prince’s scent.

Fucking perfect, Azriel thinks. So perfect, he wants to drag his nose and tongue across Eris’ skin, and lick and taste every part of his body.

His mind is going insane, he knows this. This sheer need and desire are fucking strong and render him mindless. Dumb. Delirious.

Eris’ skin grows taut beneath his finery, Azriel’s touch doing things to him he has not experienced before.

Their breaths mingle in front of their faces and as much as he wants to move away, he can’t. Something hinders him from doing so.

He wants Azriel, so much his cock almost painfully strains within his breeches. If he could, he would push Azriel back toward the bed, strip him bare and–

And nothing. He hates him. He should hate Azriel so much. He can’t allow himself to think about fucking him until he forgets his own name. Until they both forget who they are and what kind of responsibilities they have.

“Why did you kiss me?” Eris asks once again, and his whole body stiffens when he feels Azriel’s lips brush against his neck. They are slightly damp, warm and extremely soft and feel exactly the same way as when they touched his own lips.

Eris fights the urge to groan but also doesn’t shove the shadowsinger away. He allows him the closeness. He allows him to touch his body.

“Because I wanted to,” Azriel breathes and knows how silly that answer has been. But he has no better answer for Eris. Especially not right now. Not with Eris being so close, not with his scent being the only thing Azriel can focus on.

Azriel steps away, chest rising and falling with deep inhales. He has never taken in Eris‘ appearance as he does now.

The Autumn Court male is tall, incredibly tall, as tall as he himself. Eris is wearing finely tailored clothes, the cobalt fabric of his jacket straining slightly over his broad and sculpted shoulders. It hints at the impressive muscles beneath, particularly in his upper arms.

Azriel allows himself to drink in the sight of Eris, half his face once again bathed in the muted glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtain-framed window.

A smug look spreads over Eris face and he closes the distance between them, faces almost touching.

“Why did you kiss me, Azriel?” Eris' breath tingles Azriel’s face, his mouth parting slightly, tongue poking out to bring some wetness to his dry lips.

“I don’t know,” Azriel answers, the eye-contact he tries to maintain threatening to waver.

He can’t tell him about the pull on his chest, that everything in his body screams at him to kiss Eris, to taste him, to feel him, to just be near him. He can’t tell him how much he wants him. How much he desires him.

Eris' head drops, falling into the crook of Azriel’s neck. The shadowsinger allows it.

Slowly, tauntingly Eris‘ lips drag across Azriel’s in gooseflesh covered skin, fangs adding the necessary bite. Eris' hand slides around Azriel’s waist to the small of his back, resting there.

His palm radiates nothing but heat and fire, but not the kind of fire the shadowsinger fears. No, this one is full of passion. Azriel’s breaths become ragged, his back bowing slightly, bending to Eris’ will. His lids close and before he can stop himself he moans.

The noise elicits a delighted, arrogant growl for the Autumn Court heir. “I want to hear more of that. All the sensual noises you can give me.” Eris lets his tongue glide over Azriel’s salty skin. “But only when you have a real answer to my question. Only when you know what you really want.”

A cold falls over Azriel, bitter and harsh. He shudders when Eris steps, moving behind the stray of moonlight into the shadows amd out if his reach.

“Good night, shadowsinger.”

tag list for ACOCD @hnyclover @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @queercontrarian @fandomsmultiverss @acourtofbatboydreams @chunkypossum @baileybird71 @beckkthewreck @hells-sluttiest-new-arrival @owllover123 @acotarobsessed @goldenmagnolias @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @v3lv3tf0x @talibunny30 @allyhill @popjunkie42 @skyesayshi @going-through-shit @mybestfriendmademe

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#I didn't want it to end!#I grinned through the whole chapter #and I can't believe how prolific you are!!#azris

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lady-riel · 1 month

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Azriel: Get away from me. Eris: So you can stare at my ass as I walk away? Azriel: *sputters* Azriel: Fine, then, I’ll leave. Eris: I’ll be watching.

#incorrect acotar quotes #azris incorrect quote #azris #azriel #eris vanserra #acotar series #azriel shadowsinger

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lady-riel · 1 month

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Cassian: You guys must have a lot of relationship problems. Azriel: Eris: Azriel: Eris: Azriel: If I mess up Eris’s hair he’ll withhold sex for a long time. Cassian: *hopeful* Like for weeks? Azriel: Azriel: About 10 minutes.

#incorrect acotar quotes #azris #azris incorrect quote #azriel #eris vanserra #azriel shadowsinger

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lady-riel · 1 month

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azriel x eris | 3,6k words | warnings: none | masterlist

The past few days have flown by faster than expected, leaving Azriel feeling on edge, as if he's sitting on needles – or more accurately , standing on them.

It's only been a week since he last saw Eris, and his family still has no idea about their clandestine meeting. And they will never find out about it. There's a lingering fear that Eris might say something to reveal their secret meeting in the Autumn Court, and everything will blow up and his family will find out.

Eris on the other hand can also never find out Azriel didn't go there under Rhysand's order but entirely of his own volition. What would it look like? And what explanation would Azriel have for it?

Now, he is standing in the throne room of the Hewn City alongside his brothers, anticipating Eris' arrival. Though he wished to remain in the Court of Dreams, he had to come here.

It almost felt like something was pulling him to come here. When he stood in front of the large mirror in the corner of his bedroom, checking his appearance once more before leaving, there was this tug on his ribcage, urging him to move, to come here. It had been a prickling sensation within him, almost like something tickled his soul.

However, the discussion with Rhys about whether Elain would accompany them or not dampened that sensation.

“Shouldn’t Elain stay with Nyx?”

Rhys turned to him, frowning. “Elain wants to join us, Madja stays with Nyx.” End of discussion. “I will fly with Elain, you will carry my mate.”

Was Rhys truly still worried he would make a move on Elain?

Bastard, Azriel thought.

Azriel’s stands tall, shoulders squared and suddenly the tug is back, akin to his heart that all of a sudden beats a little faster within his chest. He can’t make out the source of this reaction, but he guesses it might have to do with Eris' imminent arrival.

Nervousness is a feeling Azriel is not really used to, or at least hasn’t felt in the past years. Now he does feel it and it adds to his confusion about the whole situation with the prince of the Autumn Court.

Trying to calm his senses, Azriel looses a long breath. His eyes trail over the polished ebony walls. He is not paying attention to the conversation Keir and Rhysand are having, a haze forming in his mind which makes forming coherent thoughts kind of difficult.

Through his lashes he looks at the onyx ceiling, the beasts that are carved into it always somehow reminding him of the beast his father is. The beast his stepmother is. The beast that Beron is.

It’s similar to the beasts on thrones atop the dais are fashioned out of, the thrones that Rhys and Feyre occupy.

Azriel lowers his gaze and rolls back his shoulder, feeling a little ache in his neck from yet another sleepless night. When he looks to his side, hoping to ease some of the tension in his neck and shoulders, he realises that he is not the only person that feels nervous, or uncomfortable.

Elain’s discomfort is tangible even in the air, her brows are furrowed, her slim shoulders slightly slouched. He wonders if it has to do with being here and the eerie, gloomy atmosphere of the Hewn City that seems to dim her sunshine. Or has it to do with…Lucien being away?

The Vanserra male hasn’t been here for a while, Azriel thinks. Last time he saw them talking for probably the first time, but this was weeks ago. Since then…he hasn’t come back. Azriel has no idea if he will return. Maybe this year he won’t come here for Solstice.

Azriel lowers his chin, inhaling deeply, the same moment the large, black doors open, creaking as they slowly reveal the male behind them.

For Azriel it feels like time stands still. He can’t breath when his eyes land on Eris strolling in through the large ebony doors, his feet within his luxurious boots casually gliding over polished floor. The Autumn Court heir holds his chin high, everything in his demeanour arrogant, proud, cunning. The perfect portrayal of the Autumn Court prince.

Eris truly is a prince in his own right, he doesn’t need Beron for anything – not for power, not for strength, not for knowledge, not for glory. However, another thought sparks in Azriel’s mind; Eris is not only prince, he is the future High Lord of Autumn. There is nothing but power and strength within his stroll, within his appearance. He walks gracefully, elegantly, and Azriel can’t look away.

His Adam’s apple bobs when awareness dawns on him. Eris is wearing a cobalt jacket, not the same as last year, no, a different one. An embroidery of diamonds of the same colour now adorns either breast of the jacket.

But Azriel can only focus on one thing — Eris is truly wearing a cobalt jacket, one of the same colour as Azriel’s siphons.

The Autumn Court air is breathtaking. Azriel feels his chest warm, a little kernel of an indescribable emotion now exploding and letting heat seep into every cell of his body. Azriel doesn’t like the feeling but at the same time he does. But he can’t feel this way, not for Eris.

Not for a male who is his declared nemesis and he will soon wed a new Lady of the Autumn Court. There is no place for Azriel. He will never be the person on Eris‘ side. Can never be. He will never be the most important person in Eris’ life. And he will never be worthy of the title as consort of the High Lord of the Autumn Court.

So, Azriel can never allow these feelings to take root in his chest. He needs to get rid of them, free himself from his desire, from his covert desire, for the Autumn Court prince.

Eris is most definitely doing much better at ignoring whatever he feels for Azriel. It is as if the anger and pain from their meeting a week ago still sits deep because Eris doesn’t even deign Azriel a look. He formally greets Rhysand and Feyre, and then bows at Cass, Nesta and Elain, and of course Keir. They exchange a few words but none of necessity and Eris only seems half-focused.

“We shall discuss things at a later point,” Rhys says, only for Eris and his inner circle to hear, out of the earshot of Keir.

Eris tips his chin in silent agreement, hands casually folded behind his back as he stands strong and tall, a look of arrogance on his face.

However, his eyes betray him – they are swirling pits of worry, regret, or pain, endless but also empty. Yet, his gaze searches, moving through the crowds of people gathered in the throne room. He looks around, trying not to make it too obvious that he is looking for something. For someone.

And is Elain who can read him, can read his expression and can see the concern within it. She finally says, her voice steady, but a touch sad, “He isn’t here. Lu—your brother, he isn’t here.”

Eris blinks, once, twice and then he folds his arm in front of his body and bows. “Lady Elain, it is my pleasure to finally properly meet you. I should have introduced myself more properly before. Eris Vanserra, heir to the Autumn Court.”

Her body remains as stiff as a poker, gaze remained fixed on the Autumn Court heir. Her chest heaves visibly and then with a small smile on her lips, she bows her head. “It is my pleasure, Lord Eris.”

Their eyes meet and now also a soft, and kind smile blooms on Eris‘ face – something hardly anyone has ever seen on him. Slowly, he extends a hand, “Would you like to dance with me, my lady.”

Azriel is furious, nearly bursting out of his own skin; that is not how it was planned. Not at all. Eris was supposed to dance with Nesta and most definitely not Elain.

Azriel wants to step in, end this before it starts, but he remains where he is, shoulder leaning against a black marble pillar that grounds him. His eyes are trained on Eris and in the prince’s expression, he spots a kind of polite patience he has never seen there before. But there is also interest, and a hint of intrigue, etched upon his handsome face.

Eris wants to get to know his brother’s mate, Azriel gathers, that is the reason why he wants to dance with her. He doesn’t do it because of her beauty, nor because he is interested in her (at least no in the way Azriel thought at first). Eris is interested in her, but for a wholly different reason than Azriel thought.

And yet, he can’t shake the feeling of utter envy. But he isn’t jealous of Eris now about to dance with Elain, rather of Elain dancing—

That is bullshit. His fingers curl towards his palms, knuckles turning white, marred skin stretching until it hurts.

“I think…” Elain’s voice is hushed as she speaks and takes a delicate step forward. It feels like the whole throne room holds its breath – will she decline, like she has declined all of Lucien‘s advances, or will she do it for the sake of the alliance between Night and Day?

Or because she wants to meet her mate‘s family, despite not having accepted the bond with Lucien yet.

“I would like to dance with you, Lord Eris.” Her small hand easily slides into Eris‘ extended one and he curtsies, before guiding her onto the dance floor.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Carefully, the Autumn Court heir leads Elain into the middle of the dancefloor and it feels like the whole room holds its breath; Azriel definitely does.

“May I?” Eris asks in a polite voice, his hand hovering near Elain’s waist.

“You may.” She smiles up at him, tipping back her chin. Eris’ gaze meets hers and he has to admit that his brother’s mate is quite a delicate female, soft and lovely, her eyes pure and kind. She is what Lucien deserves, his little brother’s counterpart.

Eris gently rests his warm palm on her waist, his other hand taking hers into his. He always makes sure he treats her gently, not wanting to overstep a line. He can sense her nervousness, it has a very strong scent, and he doesn’t want to make her even more uncomfortable.

She has not fully adapted to the fae life and that is visible very easily, but she is on a good way, Eris thinks.

“Were you surprised when I asked you to dance?” Eris looks down at her, Elain is quite short in front of him. His body is towering over hers, but he can feel that he isn’t the reason for her nervousness, rather the situation of them dancing in front of so many people, of the attention being on them. On her.

“No.” Elain tilts her chin upward, her fawn eyes meeting his amber ones. “You probably have questions. Questions I don’t think I have an answer to.”

Eris seems surprised over this answer. Is he so easy to read or is she just…what is her hidden power?

“What makes you think I have questions?”

A smile graces her lips and she nearly steps onto Eris toes, but he guides her, leads her and avoids it. “You have a curious look on your face, and if you didn’t have questions you could have also asked my sisters to dance.”

“Your sister is mated now,” Eris answers, as they glide over the floor, music and chatter surrounding them. The music of the small orchestra pulses through the air, guiding their every step as they twirl and move over the polished ground.

“So am I.” Her voice betrays her, but Eris has already known anyway.

“You haven’t accepted the bond yet.” Not a question. And observation. Eris would be able to scent the bond, scent his brother. It is completely obvious they haven’t accepted the bond yet.

“No.” Elain averts her gaze as if she is no longer able to look him in the eyes.

“Lucien is a good male.”

“I know,” Elain breathes. “But he is fae and way too good for me. I will never be worthy of him.”

That answer doesn’t surprise Eris, it rather shocks him. How could she ever say something like that. “Lady El—”

“Can we please focus on dancing, Lord Eris.” Her fingertips dig into his shoulder, and there is enough pain in her voice that Eris decides to stay calm. He won’t push her. He has no right to do so. No one has.

And going into detail about it all would be too much for this dance that will end soon anyway – Lucien and Elain should do it at their pace, and Eris has no doubt that one day they will find their way to each other.

The dance continues in silence. Elain‘s feet move rather effortlessly across the floor, every step, turn, and twirl elegant, not as skilled as Nesta, but still graceful thanks to Eris leading them.

When Eris twirls her, her dress flares around her like a dark blue halo. She is a whirlwind of energy, her feet barely touching the floor, her body bending and moving with the music, hands tightly holding onto Eris, who spins her, lifts her and smiles when his eyes meet hers.

“I know we finished this conversation, but I need you to know something.” Eris spins her and then catches her in her arms again. “Don’t allow these thoughts to take root within your mind. You are worthy of my brother, and whoever makes you feel like you don’t, is wrong.”

His gaze lifts, and his eyes, like glowing embers, meet those of hazel, shining like moonlight falling upon a forest. Azriel is looking directly at him, has been watching them –him– the whole time and a smug look appears on the Autumn Court heir‘s face.

He twirls the Elain again, spinning her so often that her feet almost leave the ground, yet her small frame is always safe in his strong hold. She is Lucien’s mate and hence also his to protect, his to keep safe.

“One more thing.” The music is calming, the piece almost coming to an end. Elain gives him a curious look, waiting for him to continue.

“You are my brother‘s mate – no matter if you’ve accepted the bond or not. It makes you my family as well. That is why I wanted to dance with you. I wanted to get to know you, Elain.”

Eris dips his chin. “And no matter what will happen between you and Lucien, you will always have my protection.”

If he weren’t leading them, Elain would have probably stopped moving. Her lips part slightly and her eyes widen. “Thank you.”

The music ends, Eris wants to step back but Elain squeezes his hand, keeping him close. “If it makes me your family, you are also my family.” A long pause follows.

The words seem difficult to find, voicing them even harder, but Elain inhales deeply and finally continues. “Which means if you ever need a place to…stay, to escape to, you will find shelter with me.”

He hasn’t expected that. Out of everything she could have said, he has not expected that and it warms an odd part of his chest that he has thought to be long dead, rotten and wrenched. Tears burn behind his eyes and he starts to blink rapidly. Eris squeezes her hand in return, not able to answer, too baffled by her kind offering. And his throat is too dry.

Elain steps away from him. “It was my pleasure meeting you, Lord Eris.” A small smile is on her lips. Then she turns and walks back toward her sister.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Eris halts right next to Azriel. So close their shoulders brush, and slowly Eris‘ scent seeps into Azriel’s nostrils until it is the only thing the shadowsinger can focus on.

The Autumn Court prince smells like a whisper of smoke, accompanied by the scent of freshly cut wood with musky hues and a subtle hint of earth after rain.

Eris doesn’t quite know why he walked to Azriel, and not back to Keir or the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court. But it was almost like something pulled him into this direction, a little tug on his body and he followed, letting himself be guided by it.

Eris' eyes follow Elain as she weaves her way through the crowds of people to her sister and the Illyrian brute who have also just returned from their dance.

“She is beautiful," Eris says, voice nothing more than a whisper of admiration. “A ray of sunshine even within this place of utter darkness.”

He inhales deeply, Azriel’s scent now all he can smell.

"But blue isn’t her colour.”

Azriel has to admit that as well — neither blue nor black are her colours even though he had hoped so not more than a year ago.

"Green is,” Eris continues. “Just like it is Lucien‘s colour." A faint smile graces his handsome face.

Azriel swallows and clears his throat. He doesn’t want to talk about Lucien, nor Elain. “We are not here to talk about Lucien again.”

"No. No, we are not.” Eris rubs his hand over his jaw. “I’m here to apologise.” Eris keeps his voice low so only Azriel can hear him. “For what I said about your father. I had no intention to hurt you, nor to get involved in your personal affairs.”

Eris’s gaze stays trained on the bustling crowd of dancing people, his broad chest heaving with deep inhales while he drinks in Azriel’s scent.

Night-chilled mist and cedar – beguiling.

Yet, Eris doesn’t let it show what the shadowsinger’s scent does to him, how taut his skin grows solely from smelling Azriel.

“Your jaw?” Azriel gives Eris a sidelong look. There is still a faint hint of a bruise on the side of his face, but it has faded mostly. Thank the Cauldron.

“Almost healed.” Eris inhales deeply, closes his eyes and turns to Azriel who slowly parts his lips, his brows creased.

“I‘m still sorry for it.”

“I deserved it.” There is a cold in Eris’ voice, that makes Azriel shudder and his stomach coils. He knows that this is what Eris has probably always been telling himself when Beron punishes him. Tortures him.

It makes Azriel want to reach out, take his hand into his own and just hold him. But that wouldn’t work for several reasons – they are in public first and foremost all. And they are enemies, and lastly there is the issue of his hands. Wouldn’t the Autumn Court heir with his polished and immaculate appearance feel disgusted about him? Would he not be grossed out from Azriel touching him?

“No,” Azriel says, his heart heavy with emotion. “No you didn’t. You deserve a lot, but not that.”

A small smirk tugs on Eris’ mouth, but it fades as quickly as it appeared. “Rhysand offered me to stay for the night.”

A subtle gasp escapes Azriel’s lips, and a flicker of shock passes over his face.

Eris will stay here. In the Night Court. In the Moonstone Palace. Like back then. When they…kissed.

The shadowsinger feels how his hands turn clammy, cold sweat breaking out on the back of his neck.

He has thought his unexplainable feelings and the confusion would vanish when he just stays away from the heir for long enough. And Eris staying here, being so close to him once again, will most definitely not help in fighting against the turmoil raging within him.

And it is almost like Rhys has read his mind (which is impossible, Azriel’s mental defences are always up) because his brother scraps a talon against the shield in his mind, asking for entrance.

Azriel lets him in.

“You will escort Eris to the Moonstone Palace. Keep an eye on him.”

Azriel whips his head into the direction of the High Lord, Rhys’ hand intertwined with Feyre’s while he’s sitting in a sprawl atop his throne. Before Azriel can protest, the High Lord starts talking again.

“Ally or not, I don’t feel good about letting him stay there all alone.” Rhysand looks directly into Azriel’s eyes, even across the distance. “I can trust you with fulfilling this job, Az, can’t I?”

“Pulling rank?” A snarl follows Azriel’s question.

A cold chuckle returns from Rhys, his expression smug, arrogant. “If needed, yes.”

Azriel turns away, glaring out at the dancing people. “I’m taking you there.”

Dumbfounded, Eris turns to the male next to him, his auburn brows curled. “You do what?”

“Rhysand offered you to stay here – I‘m taking you there. The Moonstone palace,” Azriel snaps, anger boiling inside of him, mingling with the overwhelming sensation of Eris being so close to him.

Eris only gives him a long look, not saying anything, but Azriel can tell exactly what he is thinking about. Because he is thinking about the same.

Will this evening end with another kiss? Or more?

tag list for ACOCD @hnyclover @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @queercontrarian @fandomsmultiverse @acourtofbatboydreams @chunkypossum @baileybird71 @beckkthewreck @hells-sluttiest-new-arrival@owllover123 @acotarobsessed @goldenmagnolias @v3lv3tf0x @talibunny30 @allyhill @popjunkie42 @skyesayshi @going-through-shit

general Azris tag list: @azrielsbabyg @lady-riel @moonlightazriel @aayo-whatt @brekkershadowsinger @ladyelain @banasheefan56 @a-frog-with-a-laptop@ofduskanddreams

#ooooohhhh what a night #please let it be hot #azris #loving this fic sm

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