#eris acotar
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The Fox and The Fawn
High Lord Eris x Rhys!Sister!Reader x Azriel
Part Five
Summary - After an intense meeting at the boarder, Eris and Lucien return home tight lipped and unwilling to ruin the night, and you discover something you thought was impossible.
Warnings - angst, fluff, Rhys being a grade A prick, our favourite found family back at it again, drinking, mentions of sex, some Eris background, Lucien being a meddler, a little trip down memory lane
Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four
HAPPY 600! 🥳
Be careful.
Eris would ensure he was. For you, he would contain his fiery rage, he would conform himself to the mask he had to wear around those from the Night Court. He would do anything to make sure he returned home to you.
Part of him was glad that Lucien had coaxed him away the moment he had secured you inside Fir Manor in the arms of Nesta and Elain, if he saw those rounded eyes of worry, he was sure that he may not have been able to walk away from you.
Sweat coated his brow as his weight crunched at the leaves and fallen branches beneath his feet. Of course Rhys had chosen to meet where Autumn met Winter, Kallias cared little when the High Lord of the Night Court would prowl onto his lands, and Rhys wouldn't dare to stand in Summer or Spring after what he and his Inner Circle had done to both of those courts.
The air had turned cold and the ground frozen a few miles back, the cold shrill of Winter swarmed around Eris and Lucien, and they were glad that they had made the smart decision to shroud themselves in their fur lined coats for what was sure to be a frosty meeting indeed. Though, Eris was glad that he had chosen the Winter boarder to say his piece, it meant that he was as far as possible away from you.
They had winnowed most of the way, hounds in tow bar Willow who had refused him to stay with you, coiling up on the porch and watching her master disappear into the forest. Lucien had groaned when they had landed at the foot of a rather large hill lined with an array of snow-kissed trees, Eris had smirked at the sound but willed his brother onward.
"Promise me that you won't let him get under your skin." There was still an ocean full of unspoken words between the two brothers, ones that voiced Eris’ regret and longing, that voiced all of guilt and desire to make things right.
In a way, it was easier for him to convince Lucien of his true nature now that they had something in common bar their looks, it was the shared need to protect you, to let you grow into your own person and watch on as you drove down your own path.
Eris frowned softly, he couldn't exactly blame Lucien for thinking that such a thing was possible, he hadn't exactly played the role of a loving brother or male in general. "I won't, Lucien. There is nothing he could say or offer to make me even consider it." That being handing you back over to the Night Court.
It wasn't something that he needed to say, neither of them wanted to even think about it as they continued upward.
"I know that you have no reason to trust anything I say after everything I've done to you," Lucien fell to Eris' side and glanced sidelong at him, not knowing what was coming next, "But I hope you can believe me when I say that I won't let any harm come to her. I have abided by every decision she has made, all I wish for is her happiness. I want her to grow and build her own life. All I can do is gently nudge her in the direction she is hesitant to follow, but I would never make her do anything she didn't wish to."
There was a pause, a comfortable silence as Lucien came to a certain realisation and grinned, "You feel something for her, don't you?" Eris felt the heat rise to his cheeks, the cold of the air making the redness more prominent on them, Lucien laughed, "I knew it from the moment you fought me to sit next to her at that dinner," his smile faltered and he stopped walking, he examined his brother, the one whose entire façade faltered the moment he noticed that you were around, "After everything that's happened, y/n deserves a chance to find her own passions away from the influence of anyone."
"I know that-"
"I wasn't finished," Lucien rolled his eyes and continued the ascent, passing Eris who trailed him by a step, "Despite everything, I do believe that she's better off here, with you. It's like you see her like how Nesta, Elain and I do but in a slightly different way, you see her in the way she deserves to be seen, in the most candid and gentle way possible," Lucien looked to Eris with understanding, "She deserves that, to be seen and understood and listened to, to be involved in every conversation, to be able to show everyone who she really is.”
The conversation died at the exact moment when the Vanserra brothers reached the apex of the mound, spotting the three Illyrians through the break in the trees that coiled around their figures, as if in warning to stay far far away.
The mask.
Right.
Rolling his shoulders, Eris was ashamed to drown his soul in the brutal essence which he often forced himself into, and he never wanted you to see just how bad it could be. Whisps of his breath floated from his lips, curling upward and freezing in the air.
"Thank you for waiting. Lucien couldn't keep up," the namesake scoffed in response as the pair approached the boarder, thanking the Mother of that intact shimmer which told them that the wards very much still up, and very strong. Eris folded his arms over his chest, finding the nearest tree and leaning on its rough bark before drawling, "You got me here, Rhys. Better start talking."
It was clear that Rhys was on the brink of losing his sanity, his eyes were cold and distant, more onyx than their usual violet hue, his wings were furled around his sides, and Lucien nor Eris could tell if he meant them to be intimidating. He appeared to them dishevelled, messy black hair, a certain paleness to his skin, an unhinged glare in his eye.
"I appreciate you taking the time to meet with us," he motioned to Azriel and Cassian, the latter of which looked more broken than Lucien had ever seen him, no doubt reeling in the loss of his mate, "I hope we don't keep you for long."
"Tell me what you want, Rhys. I don't have time for pleasantries," Eris plucked an invisible thread from the stitching of his coat and looked toward the High Lord.
The fake politeness was doing little to convince Eris of anything other than that Rhys surely was the most manipulative male he had ever come across, he stole that crown right from Beron's decaying corpse.
Resisting a snarl, Rhys exhaled deeply, unclenching his fists as he began a perfectly practiced speech, "My sister is not quite herself at the moment, I fear that she has made the wrong decision in residing in your court, her mental state has always been rather brittle," he took a step toward the boarder, his toes kissing the edge of that shimmering glare, "Give her back to us so that I can ensure that she receives the proper care."
"If y/n desires to return to the Night Court then she can, I'm not stopping her from doing whatever she wishes," Eris replied flatly, completely unphased to the words that were making his blood boil in his veins, did Rhys really have the gall to suggest that you were insane?
Azriel spoke then, realising that there was no realm of possibility where Eris would willingly give you back, "You stole her from the Day Court. Some would call it war-inducing."
There it was, the threat, Eris smiled, "Is that what you want? Another war?"
"I will do whatever is necessary to ensure her safe return to her home court."
Lucien moved to Eris' side, his muscles contracting with anger, "The Night Court is no longer her home," his voice was stoic and unnerving, his gaze daggered between the three Illyrians, "Eris did not steal her, she decided with her own strength to walk away from you, and she is already better for it."
Then, Rhys grinned, his power rattling against the wards around the Autumn Court, "I think you'll find, Lucien, that y/n belongs to me, she is property of the Night Court, her blood is a powerful tool that we can use to solidify our line. Since she is unmated, with no claim to her hand, it does mean that as long as she breathes, she is mine."
The words were a statement, and Rhys' voice did not falter. It was an old tradition, one marred in hatred and sadness. You were the daughter of a High Lord, and when he died, the archaic responsibility of marrying you into a suitable line fell to Rhys.
"I do suggest that you hand her over, I would hate to decimate your court, Eris. Especially when you've been working so hard to rectify the tyranny of your father," Rhys' hand drifted over his heart in mock sympathy.
There was no way in Hel that Eris would ever do such a thing, and he knew that there was no easy way for Rhys to willingly wage war on another court after what Prythian had only begun fully recovering from.
It was risky, but he couldn't let Rhys think he had him pinned to the frozen dirt like a snow fox to a bunny, "Rally your armies then, Rhysand, because there's no reality that exists where I would ever hand her over to you," then a feline smirk consumed his face, he ran his hand through his hair of fire and struck hard, "It seems to me that you only wish for her return so that no one learns what she is capable of. I intend to let her find out, and perhaps when the others realise too, of her story and what you've done, we may have High Queen on our hands."
Darkness exploded from him, his arms elongated into talons, his wings grew and creaked at the stretch like leather, he roared, an inhuman sound that sent shivers prickling down Eris and Lucien's spines; and even Azriel and Cassian had to step back with wide eyes at the sight of it.
Bingo.
With a graceful bow, Eris turned on his heels, beckoning his growling hounds whose hackles had raised to the skies, "I wish you a safe journey home, Rhysand. Send Feyre our collective regards," he called over his shoulder, not even flinching at the roar that flew threw the air.
They had what they wanted, the reason for Rhys' insistence, he knew that you had the power within you to be granted the highest honour of their world, and he had worked his entire existence to stop that from happening.
If Rhys wanted a war, then that's what he would get. Eris would rain hellfire over Prythian, and he knew for a fact that you would stand beside him smiling the entire time.
Eris and Lucien couldn't have been more relieved to be back at Fir Manor, the warmth of the estate shook their frozen bones back to life and they bristled off the jagged edges left by the words exchanged with Rhys.
Stones clunked together under their feet, but a hand on his arm stopped Eris moving to the house that was glowing with the essence of you. Golden light emitted from the windows and kissed the cobbled path before it, and girlish laughter drifted from the open windows along with the most divine smell.
"Before we go back in, I have to ask you something," Eris tensed and turned to his brother, his hair was unbound down the back of his fur coat, his mechanical eye surveyed him inquisitively, "Did you mean what you said back there? You'd go to war for her?"
Eris could had scoffed at the question, he removed his arm from his brothers grip and turned to the manor, smiling at the sight of you, Nesta, and Elain all dancing before the window, the neck of a wine bottle in your fingers and a sweet melody falling from your lips. Elain was cradling Willow in her arms who looked thrilled to be involved whilst Nesta had her own arms wound around your waist.
"Would you go to war for Elain?"
"Without question."
The sound of Eris' message being received was enough, but he spoke, "I have a feeling it won't come to that though. Call it a hunch."
Lucien hummed, not quite sure of what Eris meant, but followed after him as he paced down the path and up the porch steps, flinging the door open and grinning at your startled state as you fumbled to hide the wine bottle behind your back, "You're back," you whispered to him, the strap of your form fitting green dress falling over your shoulder which you didn't move to lift as you gazed at him.
His face was prickled with cold, his cheeks flush from walking into the heated manor from the wild winter winds; Eris shrugged off his coat and lay the garment over the arm of one of the armchairs of the seating area, pulling his sleeves up to expose his forearms, "I'm back."
"I'm here too, just in case anyone wanted to know," Lucien all but rolled his eyes at you as he passed, pressing his lips to Elain's forehead who fell into his embrace with Willow still firmly swaddled to her body, "Who's been cooking? I could smell it from outside," he delved deeper into the house despite Elain's scolding telling him that dinner wasn't ready yet.
Nesta followed the pair with a groan, taking the bottle of wine from behind your back and muttering something about saving the meal from Lucien's paws, leaving you and Eris alone.
Fiddling with your fingers, you took a step toward him, noticing a strand of his hair fall over his face and watching as his fingers moved to rake it back, such a thigh-clenching thing to witness. "How was it?"
"It was fine," his eyes still held a cold glare to them, one that was waning the longer it was fixated upon you, "We got what we needed."
"Which was?”
The nerves radiating from you were making even Eris feel nervous, he tiled his head to the side and took a step closer to you, his hands at his sides, "Not worthy enough to talk of now. Let's have tonight as a newly formed found family, and tomorrow, we can talk. I'll tell you everything you want to know."
Another step forward was taken by you, the hem of your dress swaying at the motion. You were so close to him that he could feel your warmth seep into his bones, so close that his cold breath made your own cheeks flush red.
It felt natural, to close the gap and fling your arms around him, to bury your face into his chest and deeply inhale his scent like you needed that to know that he had come back to you. There was a single beat where Eris just stood there frozen to the ground, but he slowly ran his fingers up your sides until one of them rested around your waist and the other cradled the back of your head, his nose rested atop of you, his lips ghosting at your hairline.
"I was worried," you admitted, squeezing him closer, thinking that if you didn't tell him that then he would think you weren't appreciative of the position he was now in.
Eris chuckled, it was low and rough, swirls of fire danced around your figures and his thumb rubbed small circles into the back of your neck, "You can't be rid of me that easily, Fawn."
The scampering of steps made you pull back from him, and he yearned to hold you again without a care about who would see and what they would say. Lucien entered the room once more holding a beautifully decorated cupcake in his hand, a raised brow on his face and fighting a smirk once he noted your closeness, "These cakes are amazing, y/n."
"Thank you, Lucien," you swayed back and forth on the balls of your feet, your eyes drowsy with drunkenness.
"I sent for dinner for your three, why are you cooking?" Eris asked, confused, only a fool would turn down food from the Autumn Court chefs.
Nesta shrugged, plopping herself down on one of the deep rooted chairs, licking her fingers free from icing, "Elain sent them away, says she can do better."
"Which you're now all ruining thanks to her cakes," Elain's hands were on her hips and she pointed to you, her apron was coated in flour, her hair was strewn up and messy, and it was clear that she was busy cooking before you and Nesta had pulled her from the kitchen to dance, "They are rather lovely, y/n. You should be thrilled."
Eris' heart fluttered as you turned to him, a hopeful glint in your eye, "Would you like to try one? I think you'd like them," he couldn't speak, he couldn't find the words really.
The firelight made you look ethereal, the golden flames danced in the glistening pools in your eyes, so pristine that he could see himself in them, "I'm afraid that I don't have much of a sweet tooth," your smile faltered, "I'm sorry."
The gaze he felt on his face was enough to make him warm the blood in warning to its owner, Lucien coughed, red faced and watering eyes and you turned to him with worry before he strained the words, "Sorry, crumb," a lie.
"Okay," you whistled, not at all noticing the silent daggers drifting between the two Vanserra brothers, which was odd considering how observant you usually were, perhaps it was the wine floating to your head.
Maybe you were letting your guard down and didn't feel the need to be watching everyone anymore.
Eris watched you retreat into the kitchen with Elain, waiting until you were out of view before he readied himself for Lucien, "I cannot remember a time when you denied yourself a dessert."
"Things change."
"Not with you they don't," Lucien stared after his mate, his eyes full of love and desire, full of possibility and thoughts of the future.
When the news had spread of Lucien and Elain's mating, Eris was truly happy for them, out of everyone he knew his brother was the one most deserving of that happiness, of that type of love. Eris couldn't say the same for himself, he didn't think he deserved any light after the things he had done, after the atrocities he had inflicted over the course of his existence. Having a mate was something he could never allow himself to dream of, everything he touched turned to ask, his fire and mask too cold to allow anyone close enough.
Eris had depleted his worth, he never let anyone touch him, he would cower from it like a wounded animal. Even when he laid with the courtesans, their time together was restricted to just sex, no kissing, no holding one another, just unsatisfying sex that made him bathe in self-loathing whilst his partner relished in the feeling of being fucked by fire.
There was always a part of him that felt unworthy, his father had gone as far to tell him so, multiple times. Every touch sent him spiralling into memories, ones of mutilation and marring, but when you had touched him, when you had wrapped your arms around him and held him close, he didn't feel the need to shrink away or unwind you from his body. All he wanted to do was keep you there forever, and that, that was something remarkable on its own.
You may have been Prythian's darkest secret, but he found you to be the only thing worth fighting for.
His salvation.
It wasn't long after dinner that you had disappeared from view.
It didn't take Eris long to embark on his search from you, excusing himself from the table that had long since gone quiet without your teasing stories of your upbringing and playdates with the High Lord beside you.
Eris didn't think that you would remember your visits to Autumn when you were a child, thinking that you were too young to retain the memories that he had held onto tightly. You were such an innocent little thing back then, and he remembered his wonderment when you had seen the orange ring in your eyes, displaying his own fire to compare the two and enjoying the sound of your giggles far too much.
He was sure that there was talk of a union between the two of you, he remembered the hushed whispers and beaming smiles of pride as both sets of parents gazed at the two of you playing in the corner with Lucien and Rhys adjacent. Though, neither of your brothers could steal your attention away from the other.
It was what he had held onto all of those years apart, in the moment when the light began to dim and the abuse began to accelerate, in the times when he wondered where you had gone. There were gaps in his mind, like memories had been stolen and locked elsewhere because he couldn't truly remember the last time he had seen you before the time he had caught a glimpse of your wingless figure wandering the halls Under The Mountain.
Eris wandered down the halls of the manor, following your scent that clung to the walls, absentmindedly pondering where exactly he would place a portrait of you in the vast home.
The sound of gentle whimpers entered his earshot and he stopped in his tracks, turning his head to the side to listen harder. He knew that the whimpers were coming from you, they weren't scared ones, but ones of pain, and his heart raced in his chest at the mere thought of you being in any form of pain under his roof.
Knocking softly on the door to your room, his old room, the grandest chamber in the entire manor, he waited patiently and listened to the shuffle of your feet and the soft padding of your companion before the door opened to reveal your strained features and a certain hound peeking around the wood, "You left."
Turning from him, you winced, leaving the door open enough for him to let himself inside, "I get these knots under my scars, it feels like I'm being stabbed, and I just need a minute when it starts."
Eris had heard of it, of the pain residing in the bones and muscles of clipped Illyrian females, sometimes so severe that they believe a new pair are pushing their way through the marred crescent moon scars, and breaking a little when they realised that it wasn't the case.
"It's been happening more recently, I think it might be stress related," you huffed out a laugh. It wouldn't be surprising, you had gone through enough to have permanent knots twisting at your shoulders, "Mor or Azriel usually tend to them," your voice was full of longing as you perched on the edge of the chaise lounge before the roaring fireplace. Willow had hopped up onto the plush piece of furniture, spinning in three circles before settling her head into your lap. Eris made a note to scold her for that later.
The tattoo on your arm shone in the golden embers, swirls of shadow and fire intertwining and dancing around your bicep, "I can help."
"Eris," you winced softly as you turned your head to him, "I couldn't ask you to do that, you've done so much already."
"You're not asking," he moved behind you, his fingers hovering over the sheer fabric of your dress that was transparent enough for him to see the muscle contorting under your skin, "If all I can give you is some relief, then I will."
A moment passed as you thought about it, but you nodded, giving him permission to unlace the strings holding the back of your dress together and pull the straps over your shoulders.
Eris' fingers were warm against your skin, you sucked in a breath at the contact, you felt fire spread across your surface as his gently wound his fingers into your flesh, "I want to try something." When you said nothing, he took it as a sign of agreement, he allowed his fire to flow into his fingertips, the heat of them unwinding the knot in your muscles instantly, withering the demon under your skin into the abyss, "Better?"
"Much," you glanced over your shoulder, "Thank you," your eyes were dazed and you smiled at him, your own fingers running down the space between Willow's eyes and down her long nose.
A question had been poking at him the moment he had seen it, the tattoo that glowed in the light, the one that when you looked at it for a moment too long seemed to dance, "That tattoo. It was a bargain?"
A solemn nod, "Yes," you confirmed, "Between Azriel and I," you gazed into the fire and sighed, but you didn't move away from Eris when he took the seat beside you, "We promised that we would always look after one another, that we would never feel harm at the other's hand."
You smiled sadly, "Azriel and I weren't so different, we were both raised by people who didn't particularly want us, burdened with a power we didn't understand. I think we understood one another in a way no one else could, we knew what we needed and when, we basically knew each other better than we knew ourselves," your voice trailed off, "At least, I thought we did," tears pooled on your bottom lids and you blinked hard to rid your vision of their blurry infliction.
Eris watched you shudder, the loneliness and betrayal worming its way into your soul like you had realised the gravity of it all.
Shuffling closer, Eris' thigh brushed against your own, his fingers millimetres away from yours and he gave into his desire to touch you as his index finger curled around your little one. A simple action to show that he understood, and more a singular moment, you let your guard down, the walls tumbled and you felt his power wash over you, kissing your own and sewing together the brittle remnants of your essence.
The room shifted, the world tilted, and you felt a sensation you had never felt before. Looking down, you found black flames licking up your fingers, they danced up your arms and across your connected digits to curl around Eris.
Neither of you moved, you both simply gazed at it, his fire and your darkness moulding together to create a wonderous crackle of flame that didn't burn either of you. It was softly calling out, and you raised your entwined fingers to inspect it carefully.
It was meant to be terrifying, but the personification of your darkness felt more childlike than anything, it was excited and new, and it nestled itself onto both of your limbs.
"I've never seen anything like this before," Eris held your palm atop of his own, his fingers smoothing over your pulse as his eyes found you, examining your face, namely your eyes where the fire in them burnt brightly.
Eris should have cowered away from you, but he loved your touch more than anything, and no matter how fleeting it may be, he would bathe in it for as long as he possibly could. "Neither have I," you tilted your head, realisation was littered on you, "But I've read about it. It's called Carranam, I think." The look in your enlightened eyes told him of the rarity of such a thing.
"You really are a clever little thing, aren't you?"
A sidelong glance and smirk later, you drawled, "You don't even know the half of it, High Lord."
Author's Note
Here she is!!!
Hope you love this and are going just as feral as me right now 🫶🏻
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Eris drabble to satiate my writing drought
A hand snaking up your spine, paired with a gentle kiss on the back of your neck, disturbed your slumber. “Doe?” Eris whispered softly. “Are you awake?”
A single nod from you induces a gentle smile on his face. His hand move from your spine to cupping your face. “You can't lay like that, my love.” He said, his voice soft, an enlightened tone only you have had the pleasure of hearing.
You groan, perfectly comfortable. “I'm fine, Eris.” You chastise, curling up into the silken covers, the auburn color a shimmering molten in the moonlight.
As you fall back asleep you let out a sign of protest as his arms wrap around you and turn you over, so you rest in the crook of his arm, back against his chest. “It's bad for the baby.” he retorts.
“I'm hardly two and half months pregnant.” A sigh from your lovely, but worried mate. “That's too many, I mean you've never been pregnant before—”
“Have you?” You said, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow. “You are a stubborn, foul female.” He whispered.
Despite this the ever-so-gentle, sweet peck to your neck begged of his never ending adoration
a/n: I've never published a fanfic before so this is definitely a WIP, but what do we think of the writing style?? Any notes? I'd take some if offered 😅
#acotar#eris vanserra x reader#i love him your honor#eris vandaddy#eris acotar#eris x reader#eris vanserra#eris drabble#eris x you#eris x y/n#acotar fanfiction#acotar imagine#a court of thorns and roses#acotar x reader
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Eris- Panic Attack
Eris x mate reader
Pre-established relationship, I’m going to say for the context of his, Eris has panic attacks from time to time.
Summary: Beron has recently died and Eris insisted on cleaning out the throne room himself. He didn’t think the memories of his father would still haunt the room.
Warnings: Panic attack explained pretty in-depth, mentions of cannon typical parental abuse, Beron mention
WC: ~1.5k
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The heavy mahogany doors swung open as Eris pushed on them. He stepped into the familiar space and steadied his breathing. Beron had been dead for a little over a month now. Eris fully stepping into the role of High Lord. Eventually, he would have to start holding court, but not before he wiped any trace of his father from the room. Not that there was much of him in this room. Despite being high lord of Autumn for centuries, the room held a certain degree of emptiness that had nothing to do with his father’s passing. It was as devoid of emotion as his own father.
After looking around Eris found something that made even his hot blood run cold.
He could feel the whip as it bit into his back. Scorching angry red lines into his back. He couldn’t even place the action that had angered his father this time. But one thing led to another and Beron had said something about disloyalty and disappointment. Eris wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of crying out. So he bit his tongue so hard it bled, repressing the screams he desperately needed to release.
Lucien was kneeling in front of the throne, white shirt torn open. Bright red blood seeped into the fabric. Clinging to his brother's skin and staining the stark fabric, a gut turning maron. Eris couldn’t get the words out of his mouth. Couldn’t form the pleas for his father to stop. He was just a boy, barley 16 years old. Even his other brothers had the decency to look horrified by their fathers actions. Lucien did cry out. The action had earned him more lashings that the servants had to hold him down for. He was going to pass out. His head slumping slightly as his father landed another blow. Just as Eris thought he found the right words, his father paused. He surveyed Lucien like he was nothing more than a piece of meat. A callous tone as he simply said “take him to his room” was all the acknowledgment Lucien was granted by the High Lord. The rest of the siblings stood in a line, silence filling the crowded room. Beron ran his hand along the whip, shaking Lucien’s blood off of his hand. He had the nerve to act disgusted by it. As if the blood would taint his hands simply by touching it. Eris had never felt fury like this before. At Beron. At himself. At his complaint mother who just stood by Berons side and didn’t so much as try to convince him to stop his cruel punishment. Eris declared right then and there that when the time came, he would make sure that Berons death would be at his hands.
Eris willed his eyes to pull into focus. He blinked against the dark that bit at the edge of his vision. His hands would not stop shaking as he held the whip. He couldn't let go of it for some reason, like the leather hilt had burned his flesh to it.
He had regretted his decision to enter the room at that very moment but some prideful part of him demanded he should be the one to do it. What he hadn’t considered was the memories this room held. Memories that couldn’t go away at just the mere passing of his father. One small object in the room and that’s all it took to reduce the recently crowned high lord to nothing more than a scared babe.
His breathing. He needed to control his breathing but it felt like sandpaper as he clutched for some semblance of rationality. He couldn’t suck in air fast enough and he knew that he was hyperventilating but couldn’t stop it. He felt his knees starting to buckle under him. A firm hand slamming against the nearest wall was all he could do to stop from falling to his knees right there. The whip finally falling from his hands as he felt a cold sweat break over his entire body.
The blood roaring in his ears drowned out the sound of the door swinging open again. He all but jumped out of his skin at the feeling of your hands on his shoulders. You rubbed gentle circles into the back of his neck and that was all it took for Eris to fall to his knees. Your soft touch was such a stark contrast to the phantom pain he felt rip across his body only moments before.
When he finally had the strength to open his eyes, he found you sitting on your knees in front of him. Your own eyes filled with sympathy and it was enough to break him. Years ago that look would have him storming off, terrified of how that one look seemed to stare into his very soul and rip him apart. But now, he used your eyes to ground him in the present. The fact that you were here in this room was enough to send his mind into overdrive the need to protect you from some long gone force took over his mind.
He must have sent that feeling down the body because he felt a calming wave of love in response. You didn’t move for a second, seeming to fully take in the situation that was unfolding in front of you.
As you had done so many times before, you slowly lifted Eris’ hands and gently put it on your own chest. You took deep breaths and Eris found himself struggling to time his with yours. It took a few tries but he felt his lungs open up. The scratch still there but manageable as he all but panted in time with your steady breathing.
Once he got his breathing to a more steady rhythm, you went to remove his hand from your chest and Eris simply laid his free hand on top of yous. Unwilling to let the comfort of your heartbeat disappear. You didn’t shake him off, instead you shuffled closer to him until your knees were pressed against his own. He watched you move in slow motion as you tenderly placed your forehead against his. He closed his eyes as he gulped down breaths of your smell. Caramel and cinnamon. His lips ghosted over yours, not truly kissing but enough that your breathing finally in sync and he could taste your sweet smell as you exhaled
The two of you sat like this until the trembling in his body stopped. The tension still clung into his shoulders and was already starting to give him a headache. You could pick up on that too. You were always so attentive and aware of his moods. It used to terrify him but the longer the bond held , the more he let you see his part of him. The part that wasn’t a high lord who killed his own father for a role he had been training his whole life for.
Pulling his hands free from your chest, Eris fumbled frantically to wrap his arms around you. His head going to the crook of your neck at the same time you carded your fingers into his precious red hair. He all but purred when you used your nails to scratch his scalp.
You didn’t ask what was wrong. It wasn’t necessary. All it took was that pure fear that traveled down the bond and you were sprinting through the large estate, one you were still unfamiliar with due to spending all of your time at the forest house. So all you did was offer him a small “I love you”. It didn't matter that his throat was too raw to say it back. None of that mattered. You would spend the rest of your life telling you t to him without a response if it meant he would believe those three words.
Much to your surprise, you felt the words mumble into your neck and you just held him tighter. You held him until he gave you three tight squeezes, the signal he gave you when he was back down to earth. You held his face in your hands and gave him a chaste kiss. Pulling him up to his feet, I led him out of the throne room. Letting him know that this wasn’t something he had to do today, at all or alone.
#eris vanserra#eris acotar#eris x reader#eris fluff#eris angst#acosf#acomaf#acotar fanfiction#acotar#acowar#eris x you#did I write this because I had a panic attack#yes. the answer is yes#Erie needs a hug#i love this man
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@lorcandidlucienwill one last angst for the road...
Who took care of Eris' hounds while he was UtM? They they know what was happening? That their dad was trapped?
They refused to eat from the workers hands, since Eris fed them himself or took them out hunting.
A few months pass and no Eris...
They bark and growl all night and day, almost asking "Where did you go?"
A few more months later the growls turn into whines
Multiple years pass and the hounds collectively agree that Eris abandoned them.
The older ones go out to hunt while the younger still stay in the first house. They take care of themselves while Eris is trying his hardest to break free so he can go home to them.
It takes half a century, for Eris to be free, and the first thing he does is winnow in the forest house, calling to his pup, preparing himself for the worst.
One after another they come out of hiding, tackling him to the ground, licking all over his face while he laughs for the first time in 50 years.
His hound snuggle up around him, in his warmth, cause Eris didn't abandon them.
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where r my eris vanserra lovers at?? hmu because i need MOREEEE eris love on my feed (not that i don't already but i'm insatiable)
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The Benevolent | Eris x Healer OC | Two
☁︎ notes: so much tea drinking in this chapter?? my bad
☁︎ warnings: descriptions of wounds and blood, talk of physical abuse, implied domestic violence
☁︎ word count: 1.9k
☁︎ AO3 Link // Masterlist
☁︎ tags: @mybestfriendmademe @teddyhoneybear @cauldronblssd @imma-too-many-fandoms @tele86
Eris barely remembered the night before. He did not remember the questions his father had asked or the nonsense he’d given as answers. He knew in his gut that the truth remained tucked away and that’s all that mattered.
He did recall his mother hurrying away, though the image was blurry from the pain. He thought he remembered an angel, kneeling by his bedside and blessing him with a touch to his brow. But of course, that was delirium from the blood loss. Every snap of his father’s whip, however, echoed through his memory in a loop.
He woke once in the night, head pounding as he surveyed the room. The moonlight revealed his mother’s sleeping form on the couch by the fire. On the floor beside his bed, another figure slept curled up with a throw pillow. Maybe two figures? It was hard to tell, their outline bulky beneath the quilt. He had a vague understanding that he should be dead, or at least in a great deal of pain. But the bedding felt real enough beneath his hands, the ache in his head like an anchor.
He did not have a chance to wonder about it any further before sleep pulled him away again. He dreamt of the angel and her lovely voice, deep and smooth, easing his pain.
Worry not , she had said. So Eris slept deep and easy.
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When Eris woke he braced for the full impact of his injury to envelope him, but it never arrived. There was a dull ache throughout his body, but nothing compared to what he felt the night before. He found that he could sit up and move and even stretch with no resistance.
He flicked on the fae lights and twisted in the mirror, examining his back. There were large, pink scars still tender to the touch. And he was clean, not a hint of the ocean of blood that had threatened to swallow him in his bed.
That was how his mother found him, staring at his back with confusion and frustration written across his features. She let out a silent sigh as she set down the tea tray, preparing for his interrogation.
“Someone else was here,” He said. Or rather, demanded, eyes meeting hers in the mirror.
“Yes. The healer I hired.” She did not look at him, focused on spooning tea leaves into the sieve.
“Beron forbade it.” His tone was sharp.
“He will not know. He was called away this morning and you leave for the Spring Court this afternoon.”
Here she was, pulling strings again. He would always admire her cleverness and always dread the consequences. She was constantly doing favors just so she would be owed one in return. It was the oldest Fae trick in the book and the only way she could gain footing in this court.
Most of the court and its people would follow her over Beron in a heartbeat. But his reach was wide and his eyes all-seeing. Not to mention his punishments, always cruel and disturbingly creative. Thus, these games of bargains and favors remained. Whispered in dark halls and midnight meetings. Sometimes outside the borders of the court. So far, she had managed not to be caught. Beron underestimated her and one day it would be her salvation and the last nail in his coffin.
“You hired a secret healer?”
“And swore her to secrecy, yes,” It was an idea she’d toyed with for a while, but Eris had always asked her not to do it. It was not worth it, to risk some healer’s life on his sorry behalf.
“Did you tell her the nature of the job?”
Edana pursed her lips, quiet as she placed sugar cubes into cups. He sat down slowly, releasing a long sigh as he went.
“The risks, mother,” He said, weariness making it sound more thorny than he meant.
“Do not scold me, son,” Her tone was firm but her voice shook. She looked at him, russet eyes gleaming. “You would have died last night if she had not been there. I have said it before and I will say it as many times as it takes for this court to hear me. I will not lose another son.”
Her lips trembled as she let her body crumple into a chair. Eris stood and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her ruddy hair. Two sides of the same coin, they were. Too soft for Beron’s preferred shade of games, too stubborn not to play their own.
The purple smudges under her eyes were so pronounced Eris wondered if she’d slept at all. If she’d truly slept in years.
“Why now?” He asked, his voice soft. An uneasiness grew in the pit of his stomach. Edana took a moment to answer, her eyes troubled and distant as she warred with something that Eris couldn’t see.
“Things are brewing, Eris,” She said, “Not just in your father’s court, but in Prythian. I needed to ease my mind. To have one less things to worry about.”
He didn’t bother asking what she alluded to. She would have told him already if she were able to. Whether it be Beron or some other higher power, she stayed vague for a reason. It did nothing for that sense of unease.
“Thesan has requested to speak with me,” Edana sighed, sounding a little more like herself again, “I assume I will be receiving a scolding from him as well.”
“No more scolding from me,” Eris sat back down and pulled a cup of tea towards himself, “You know what you’re doing. I just don't want to see you hurt.”
She gave him a small smile and took a sip from her own cup.
“You’re a force to be reckoned with, mother. One day you will get your justice.”
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Lady Edana sat across from Thesan, tea and pastries arranged on lace runners between them. The table sat on a balcony, so similar to where she had met with Aya. Fluffy clouds floated past the stone pillars, the arches between them like picture frames housing masterful paintings.
Edana did not care for the Dawn Court. Everything here was too farefree, threatening to float away with the lightest touch. She preferred to be on solid ground, back in her own court with its scents of humus and ripe apples.
“Edana,” Thesan began. His eyes avoided hers, as if her opinion would be read clearly within the amber.
Edana said nothing, anger ebbing and flowing through her like the tide. One moment she had herself worked up, convinced that everyone around her was trying to prove that she was nothing but a fool, a paranoid little housewife. Then she would remind herself that those ideas were Beron’s creation, her anxiety his design. And she calmed, letting all of those feelings flow away until the cycle began again.
“I understand your machinations,” He said, “I know their importance, and I will contribute where I can. But you cannot draw my loved ones into this game. Especially without consulting me.”
“Loved ones?” Edana asked, meeting his gaze as she took a sip of her tea.
“Aya is my cousin, Edana,” Thesan sighed.
“Is there a reason you kept her hidden?”
“She is not hidden. The Dawn Court knows her. But she has always insisted on earning her own living. She wants her success to be her own.”
“I see,” Edana said, though her expression suggested that she did not see.
“I have a feeling that you elected to ask for forgiveness instead of permission.” He continued.
Edana tossed her head, but she did not disagree. That was exactly what she had done. Though she had to admit that the fact of Aya and Thesan being related made her decision look much bolder. She had never meant to make a statement.
“I suggest you do not make a habit of it,” Thesan’s voice rumbled through the balcony.
Some considered Thesan to be the weakest of the High Lords. Even Tarquin, young and experienced as he may be, could move oceans with his power. But to hear Thesan speak this way painted a different image. Like he possessed some hidden blade within him that was as sharp as he was gentle. Like perhaps, the other courts would be grateful that he stayed close to his palace in this sky.
Edana finally accepted that perhaps her plans had been rash. Maybe she had underestimated how easily Thesan would forgive her. The clouds floating by the balcony grew dark with the threat of a storm.
“I cannot break the bargain,” She said, eyes on the table before her. She studied the crumbs of her macaron, pastel purple and flavored with lavender.
“No,” Said Thesan, a growl full of warning, “But if you misstep, I will have Helion dismantle it.
“I did it for Eris,” Edana choked out, looking up at him. The lovely brown of his eyes was so soft compared to the command in his voice.
“Then he will help protect her. Or he will need more than one healer.”
“Beron will not touch her.”
“Do not make promises you cannot keep.”
They were quiet for a long moment. Then the clouds lightened again, all of the tension gone from the sky. Thesan leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.
“I did not call you here to scold you,” He said, and Edana thought bitterly that it was a little late for that sentiment.
“I wish to warn you.”
She took another sip of her tea and wondered if this was merely a bridge to another lecture about her schemes and manipulations. As if she was a reckless child with no self control, and not a woman trapped in the underground halls of the Autumn Court. They all gave her sympathy, but if they would not help her with their actions then their words meant nothing. She prepared to tell him off.
“I wish to warn you about Aya,” His eyes narrowed at Edana’s refusal to answer. But he had her attention now. She pursed her lips and locked eyes with him. “There are facets to her power she has not yet discovered. She could rival the best of us one day.”
“And you have not told her this?” Edana’s brows furrowed, “You do not wish for her to control it?”
“Not all of us fancy ourselves puppet masters,” Thesan said tightly, “I was hoping it would be her own discovery. She’s so unsure of herself.”
Edana stared for a moment longer. It had crossed her mind, the depth of Aya’s power. The ease with which she manipulated Eris’s wounds. Her skill was greater than any other healer Edana had met.
“And I suppose you will not tell me any more about her?”
“It is not my story to tell.”
Edana’s nerves were feeling a bit frayed. A scolding, a threat, and now a warning.
“Are we done here, Thesan?” She sighed and dropped the napkin from her lap onto the table.
Thesan’s eyes narrowed. No, he had hoped this conversation might last a little longer. He had more to say. But he was as tired of Edana as she was of him.
“Yes, Edana.”
Truthfully, she had always been this way. Paranoid, calculating. Even in her days as a young and single courtier, she gambled for scandals and drama, her ante paid in lovers. She had played these games for so long now, her entire world was tinted. Perhaps the right person could have encouraged her to hone that energy. But Beron brought out the worst in everyone.
Some thought her sons inherited their cunning from their father, but it was all their mother’s. All of their scheming they learned from her. Beron was as dense as he was cruel.
Thesan watched the Lady leave, her burgundy skirts swishing over the stone floor. Lady of Autumn, Queen of games, mother of foxes.
#acotar#acotar fic#acotar fanfic#acotar fanfiction#eris#eris vanserra#eris acotar#eris fanfic#eris fic#eris fanfiction#eris vanserra fic#eris vanserra fanfic#eris vanserra fanfiction#eris x oc#eris x healer#pro eris vanserra#acotar oc#dawn court oc#dawn court#the dawn court#thesan#autumn court#lady of autumn#beron vanserra#dawn court healer#acotar healer oc#acomaf#acowar#acofas#acosf
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Few will understand this but Eris Vanserra gives off Dorian Havilliard little black revenge dress era (AKA Dorian in Kingdom of Ash ) 💆♀️
#pro eris vanserra#eris vanserra#eris vandaddy#phantom hands#dorian havilliard#pro dorian havilliard#daddy ghost hands#dorian ghost hands#autumn court males#fire in their blood#acosf#the vanserra brothers#vanserra brothers#eris acotar#revenge dress#throne of glass#manorian#dorian x manon#kingdom of ash#maasverse#empire of storms
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Lighthouse in the Woods
Part Four: The Breakthrough - 6k words
Read on Ao3
Title from the song: Lighthouse -Patrick Watson
For more info and the Playlist
Their kissing was unhurried. Azriel moved from Eris’ lips to his neck as he laid him gently back on the pillows, tasting him completely.
After a while, it slowed until they were just holding each other. Eris’ back was pressed tightly against Azriel’s bare chest, the sounds of their breathing accompanying their rapid heartbeats.
The words Azriel knew he needed to say were heavy on the back of his tongue but he couldn’t get them out, afraid of ruining this perfect moment. Somehow, he realized Eris already knew and was just waiting for Azriel to tell him. Still, the words wouldn’t come.
Azriel let his wing curve around the top of them, shivering as Eris’ breath ghosted over the inside of it. The High Lord’s breathing was slow and heavy as he drifted off to sleep and Azriel counted each one as he exhaled, thankful for them all.
“I love you.” He whispered in Eris’ ear. When Eris was fast asleep Azriel pressed his mouth gently on the tip of his pointed ear and added. “Mate.”
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@talibunny30 @iftheshoef1tz @born-to-riot @fell-in-luvs @fieldofdaisiies @aktrain @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @secret-third-thing @acourtofladydeath @pippsmcgee @youvereachedthenearest-lovergirl @baileybird71 @skyesayshi @yanny-77 @areyoudreaminof
#azris supremacy#azriel x eris#eris vanserra#azris fanfiction#acotar fanfiction#azris#azriel shadowsinger#angst#eris acotar#acotar#azriel fanfic#azriel smut#azriel spymaster#azriel supremacy#azriel series#eris vandaddy#eris x oc#autumn court#acotar fic#acotar fanfic#azriel x oc#acotar angst#acotar fluff#domestic#acotar next gen#pro eris vanserra#autumn court aesthetic#acotar series#azriel acotar
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I don’t know why but I always imagine azris falling in love in the the winter court.
They’d both be there for work- Eris seamlessly stringing people along with his silver tongue, Azriel spying through the pale shadows of winter. There’s a mutual understanding that when Eris notices a few rebellious shadows, he looks away with a blinding smile so that whatever courtier he’s charming doesn’t see a thing, that when Azriel watches Eris slip into the private rooms- he calls his own spies off and attends himself so that whisper of a conspiracy does not bleed out. They don’t get along at all but they are reluctant allies.
Which makes things confusing when Eris catches a glimpse of Azriel from his guest room windows. The sharp, dangerous edges of an imposing Ilyrian softening in the gentle rain of snow, sleet falling on a beautiful face which shifts from cold stone to quiet wonder. Things are confusing when Azriel as a spy, an extremely unwelcome guest, has no place to stay but cold abandoned rooms and empty rafters. Illyrians are resistant to the colder more than others but it doesn’t stop Eris taking pity on Azriel who’s shoulders are stiff and fingers are blue. Eris is warm, his hand drags Azriel to his own quarters- Azriel has never held someone who’s blood runs so hot. He wonders if all autumn fae are like this or if it’s just Eris. The autumn prince will hide Azriel in his room and it gets confusing when late nights when either of them can sleep, they start talking about Eris’ dogs, Azriel’s shadows. They argue until they have to go to bed furious at each other (but keep each other warm) on some nights and others, they confess forgotten dreams and weak promises.
It’s confusing because they’re both workaholics who know better than this. There’s no playing at work- that just leads to horrible choices and decisions that they can’t afford to make. They act on behalf of their courts, they’ve learned better than to listen to their thundering, traitorous hearts.
It was useless to fight it, the surge of emotion, the falling in love. Azriel has never felt more helpless when he treks the wintery forests with Eris one day for no other reason than the fact he wants to- watching Eris scale a tree with a fire flickering beneath his feet. Eris shakes the tree, ice and snow falls on Azriel and he can only look in the same wonder as that first night. Eris slips, on purpose or on accident, and Azriel rushes forward to soften the other’s fall. The flash of lovely red hair again the pure snow, warm laughter ringing out and Eris as an anchor in his arms- Azriel has never been more helpless.
Or Eris, who plays along with the winter nobles, with the high lord and lady. By the end of the day, he’s exhausted with these games. He doesn’t want to play with the mask. In quiet moments of respite, he sits in the cozy libraries with a book and by the frosted windows. He never finishes a book because by the time he opens to the first page, writing appears in the frost. Telling him he looks stupid, telling him he looks like a pretentious fuck. Telling him that they’ll bring back liquorice tonight from the court’s premiere confectionary even though liquorice fucking sucks Eris. Eris will write back. They’ll spar with a thesaurus: brute, prick, pain in my ass, the bane of my existence, the death of me- and one day the frost answers back a word Eris doesn’t recognise. But he is in a library and he hunts down the answer and when he does, his ears are red all through dinner. It was too much effort, he thinks to himself when laying in bed with Azriel who sleeps soundly with a strong arm over Eris, too fight against this.
#azris#azriel shadowsinger#azriel acotar#eris vanserra#eris acotar#i’m just a delulu girl living in an azris world#azris supremacy#acotar#sorry I haven’t posted in a while#I’m always thinking about azris#but I’ve been trying to write actual fics for azris week#I love them#I think they should kiss in the snow#also an excellent opportunity for a sick fic#what is a fandom without a sickfic
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Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny - Eris x Reader
Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny - Eris x Archeron!Reader
Summary: You find yourself ensnared by a sly, cunning fox. A very handsome, irritating one.
Warnings: use of the nickname bunny
Based on THIS request.
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Gods, you were going to be in so much trouble. You kept your fast pace as you walked through the woods, keeping your eye out for anything, anything, that might help you. The only reason you even knew where you were was the red and golden leaves adorning the trees, the scent of cinnamon and rain hanging in the crisp air. Autumn. You were in the Autumn Court.
You had just been practicing winnowing with Rhys, your brother-in-law. Since the war ended, the Inner Circle was finally spending more time helping you learn your magic. You had wanted to learn, to do more, ever since you had been turned fae, tossed in the cauldron like your sisters.
But being the youngest meant also having to take a back seat sometimes. Feyre and Nesta never let you do anything. Never let you help in any way. Not much changed after you had been turned fae.
The sound of dogs howling made you pause in your tracks. You stood frozen for a moment, unsure of what to do. They could be farm dogs, it could mean that someone was nearby, someone who could help you.
But you knew of the type of fae in the Autumn Court and it could also be someone who’d try to hurt you. You bit your lip, finally deciding to make a run for it as the howling got closer.
You took off down a line of trees, pushing yourself to run as fast as you could to create some distance between you and the pack of dogs. But a few stumbles over fallen branches and you could hear the pounding of their paws not far behind you.
A bark had you looking over your shoulder, cursing as you saw the hounds close behind. They yelped with excitement as they caught sight of you, picking up their pace.
Pain, awful, debilitating pain, rushed through your leg and you screamed, falling to the ground. You flipped yourself over to see your foot stuck in the claws of a bear trap, the metal prongs piercing through your skin. You cursed as you realized they must’ve been herding you here.
You let out another cry as you forced yourself to sit up and scoot closer to the trap. The dogs were still running at you and you desperately tried to yank the trap apart, to free your foot.
It was no use; the dogs were too fast. Faster than any dogs you’d ever encountered. You could do nothing but throw your arms over your face and scream, hoping someone would hear you before you were mauled to death by a pack of dogs.
To your utter shock, the feeling of teeth ripping into your flesh never came. You slowly put your arms down to see twelve hounds running in a circle around you, yapping and howling into the air. Each one gray and sleek like smoke.
Footsteps coming from behind you had you whipping around, eyes wide. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of a male. A very handsome male with silky red hair, whiskey amber eyes, and pale skin. He was tall, lithe, but he had the top three buttons of his shirt undone, giving you a glimpse of the muscles beneath.
The cobalt coat he wore was finely crafted, along with his pants and shoes. The haughty expression on his face told you exactly who you were looking at—Eris, the Heir of Autumn.
You swallowed audibly as he smirked down at you, coming to a halt a few paces away.
“Well what do we have here?” His voice was smooth like silk and it sent a shiver down your spine.
You said nothing as he let out a sharp whistle and the hounds circling you halted before running to his side. They sat behind him like perfect little guards, their unusual eyes still on you. You looked back up at the male, who had just stumbled upon you, trapped. He walked around your form, much like his hounds had been doing.
You couldn’t find any words. Mostly because of the pain of the bear trap ripping through your shin and foot. But also because you had only really ever heard horror stories about Eris—about his cruelty and cunning nature.
Eris’s fox-like face smirked down at you in amusement. “My hounds seem to have herded a little bunny into one of my traps. Do you have a name, bunny?”
Should you tell him who you were? That you were one of the Archeron sisters, that you were from the Night Court? You knew briefly through listening in on Feyre’s conversations that they considered Eris an ally. But they also said he could hardly be trusted.
“Does the little bunny not have a voice?” Eris purred, still circling around you like a predator playing with its food. “Hm, let me guess. The golden brown hair and the big, brown doe eyes that look incredibly similar to my brother’s mate’s…Have I trapped an Archeron?”
You used the sleeve of your dress to wipe at the tear tracks on your cheeks. You tried to back away from him, but the movement only jostled your leg, causing a small whimper to escape your throat.
“I-I’m not sure how I ended up here, my Lord,” you mumbled. Gods, you felt pathetic. “Can you p-please help me?”
Eris tilted his head at you, in an animalistic way you still weren’t used to with the fae. He studied you for a moment before another smirk bloomed on his handsome fox-like face. He was picturesque with his disarming beauty.
“You see, I think this is all a bit unfair. You seem to know who I am, but you still haven’t told me your name, little bunny.” He knelt down next to you, reaching a gloved hand out to push some of your hair from your face.
It should’ve alarmed you, his closeness, the touch of his hand. But for some reason, it didn’t. You swallowed again, considering your options. Maybe he would help you get home.
“I’m one of Feyre’s sisters,” you managed to stutter out.
“Is that so?” He seemed to be enjoying this. “And what is the name of the bunny I’ve managed to trap?”
You mumbled your name out loud, glancing around the meadow you were in, at the hounds that were now all laying down, still staring at you. You blinked at them and the biggest one, the leader of the pack, stood suddenly. You kept your eyes trained on her as she marched over to you, shaking as you examined her large head, her jaw that could easily rip your throat out.
But to your surprise, she merely meandered over to you and brushed her head against yours, letting out a low whine. Your eyes widened, looking over at Eris for a second to see a flicker of shock cross his face. The hound let out a small yip before licking the side of your face, drawing out a surprised giggle from you. Was she trying to…comfort you?
“Ashera,” Eris said sternly with a snap of the fingers. But the hound merely glanced at him and then went back to nudging you with her fluffy head.
You raised a shaky hand and stroked her back, bewildered by the dog's behavior. She licked you up the side of your face again and Eris said her name a little louder this time, making her ears twitch. She whined at him but listened, going back to the other dogs.
“I didn’t know there was a fourth Archeron sister. Where have they been hiding you?” Eris asked, drawing your attention back to him. “And why?”
You shrugged your shoulders. Had they been hiding you? No one has ever mentioned keeping you a secret. “I-I don’t know.”
He waved a hand in the air, summoning a piece of parchment and pen. He quickly scribbled something on it before flicking it away. You watched it disappear with awe, still taken aback by the use of magic.
Eris seemed to remember you were still stuck. He let out a sigh and placed his hands on both sides of the trap. He paused to look at you. “Sorry, little bunny, but this is going to hurt.”
And then he pulled the trap apart with his bare hands. You let out a loud cry as the metal spikes were pulled out of your leg. You whimpered, pulling your knee to your chest as you examined the damage to your shin.
Blood was now gushing from the wounds that circled around your shin. You grabbed some of your skirt in your hand, intending to use it to put pressure on the wounds but Eris’s hand shot out and grabbed your wrist.
“Don’t do that,” he hissed. “Are you dumb? Your skirt is covered in dirt and mud. You’ll only infect it.”
Your cheeks turned red with embarrassment. He reached a hand towards you but now free from the trap, you scrambled away from him with a whimper. He let out an amused chuckle.
“No need to be frightened, little bunny,” he purred. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
You looked at him warily as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, dangling it in the air between the two of you. You swallowed audibly but didn’t move as he approached again and wrapped it around your ankle as a makeshift gauze.
He hummed, standing up and brushing invisible dirt from his pants. “Now, are you going to tell me why exactly an Archeron is in my court?”
“I was learning how to winnow. I-I don’t know how I ended up here. One minute I was in Velaris and then next, I was here.”
He clicked his tongue, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Interesting. Well, come on. Let’s get to Spring so someone can come retrieve you before you get yourself killed.”
Eris held at his gloved hand to you. You took it, letting him help you rise from the ground, trying to keep weight off your injured ankle. As soon as you were up, he winnowed the two of you away.
A moment later, you appeared on the border of Autumn and Spring. You would’ve fallen over if it wasn’t for Eris grabbing you by the upper arm. You blushed, muttering a small thank you.
“I’m afraid we’re going to have to walk the rest of the way so we don’t set off any wards that will alert my father,” Eris said, coolly.
He set off and you trailed after him, hobbling slowly because of your injury. You only made it a few paces before Eris turned around.
“Hurry it up, bunny, I don’t have all day.”
Your eyes narrowed at him. “Sorry, it’s a little hard to walk considering my foot was just in a bear trap.”
Eris tsked, looking down at your ankle before his eyes trailed up your form. He let out a sigh and strided back to you. Before you could even figure out what he was doing, he grabbed you by the waist and tossed you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
You squeaked in surprise. “What are you doing?! Put me down!”
“Like I said, I don’t have all day,” Eris said, stalking off towards the border to Spring. You jostled on his shoulder with each step he took but he held you firmly with an arm around your thighs like you weighed absolutely nothing.
You pounded on his back with your fists. “Ugh, Let me down!”
“You even hit with the strength of a rabbit,” Eris laughed to himself, ignoring your attempts to free yourself from his hold.
“Jerk,” you scoffed, crossing your arms as you dangled there.
Eris just laughed again. You bickered with him all the way to a clearing where he finally came to a stop and put you down. You huffed, smoothing down your dress and hair as you glared up at him.
“You’re welcome,” he purred with an arrogant smile.
The shadows around the clearing seemed to move in a flurry and then a familiar face stepped out of the darkness.
“Get away from her,” Azriel growled at Eris.
Eris held his hands up, that smile never leaving his face as Azriel stalked towards you. His eyes narrowed as he sniffed, smelling the blood on you.
“Did he hurt you?” Azriel asked, his tone dark. He grabbed you by the arm and yanked you to his side, causing you to stumble.
Before you could even open your mouth, Eris cut in.
“Must you have such a low opinion of me, shadowsinger.” Eris wore that fox-like grin again. “I haven’t harmed a single hair on her head.”
Azriel looked to you, waiting for you to verify his story.
“He speaks the truth, Azriel,” you said, clutching your ankle. “I ran into a bear trap on my own. He helped me out of it and brought me here.”
“And why were you running?” Azriel tossed Eris a glare.
“His d-dogs scared me. But they’re friendly,” you replied, trying to ease the tension in the air.
Eris scoffed, as if no one had ever referred to his hounds as friendly before.
Azriel looked at you with exasperation. “Come on, let’s get you home. No need to linger here.” He glared at Eris one last time.
Before you could protest, he hoisted you up into his arms. You glanced at Eris one last time to see a moment of shock cross his face as he met your gaze.
“Thank you,” you called out as you gave him a small wave before you were swept away in the shadows.
· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·
You didn’t see Eris again for months. Not until Winter Solstice, when it had been decided that Nesta would try to intrigue him enough to keep him as a steady ally. When Elain had declared that she was going to join the Inner Circle in the Court of Nightmares, you had demanded to be taken as well, despite arguments from nearly everyone. But you were tired of being treated like a baby.
You had gotten your way in the end, after agreeing to strict orders to stay at the foot of the dais the entire time. It wasn’t ideal but it was something…better than staying home.
You were dressed in a black tulle, A-line gown. The bodice was sheer but adorned with lace appliques embedded with shining silver gems. It had a sweetheart neckline and off the shoulder lace straps. It swept the floor with tulle and lace, pooling at your feet like dark water. It was beautiful, more girlish than the dress Nesta was wearing but not as plain as Elain’s modest, long-sleeved dress.
You stood at the bottom of the dais next to your sisters, between the two Illyrian warriors, as your sister addressed the crowd. Eris was standing next to Keir at the head of the gathered crowd, dressed in Night Court black himself. It was hard to deny how truly beautiful he was—especially with his striking red hair contrasting the black so well. You could feel his eyes on you from time to time but kept your gaze forward.
“May the blessings of the Winter Solstice be upon you,” Feyre declared.
Keir was the first to approach with a low bow. “Allow me to extend my congratulations.”
“And allow me to extend mine as well, on behalf of my father and the entire Autumn Court.” Eris had stalked forward as well, giving your sister a pretty, cultivated smile. “He shall be thrilled by the news.”
“I’m sure he will.” Rhys kept his eyes trained on the Autumn Heir. “Music!”
An orchestra began playing and Feyre raised her voice and said, “Go—eat.”
The crowd slowly began to dissipate. Keir also disappeared as half the crowd began to dance seamlessly to the music.
“Before you join the merriment, Eris,” Rhys drawled. “I’d like to present you with your Solstice gift.”
You tuned out the conversation, taking in the rest of the throne room. It was your first time here in Hewn City. It was as monstrous as expected. But beautiful still, in the dark way that screamed Night.
You tuned back into the conversation just as Feyre spoke, “Ordinarily I would ask you to dance, but my condition has left me unwell enough that I worry about what so much spinning would do to my stomach.”
She looked at the three of you, as if deciding who she would offer to the Heir of Autumn even though it had already been decided. Elain gave a passable impression of appearing interested, as she had been directed to. Nesta just looked bored. Rhys and Feyre had given you no direction, claiming Eris would be tempted more by power and a wide-eyed, young girl, as they had called you, would not be of interest to him.
“My oldest sister shall take my place.”
But it was like Eris hadn’t heard Feyre speak as he stepped forward and stopped in front of you, not Nesta. You blinked at him, your brows raising with confusion as he extended his hand to you, an open invitation.
“I’ll take the little bunny,” Eris purred with that fox-like grin. He kept his amber eyes on you, not looking towards Feyre despite speaking to her. “If the Lady agrees, of course.”
“I-I’m afraid I’m not familiar with the dances, my Lord,” you said, politely, ignoring the hand outstretched to you as your cheeks turned red at the attention.
Eris didn’t back down. “That’s quite alright. I’ve been told I’m a good lead.”
You glanced at Feyre and Rhys, uncertain of what you were supposed to do. This wasn’t the plan. Eris was never supposed to take interest in you. You were a speck of dust compared to the power rolling off Nesta—power, the only thing he was supposed to care about.
You felt talons scrape your mind and let your sister in.
Just go with it for now. We’ll send in Azriel to take over before it goes too far.
You slipped your hand in Eris’s hold and let him escort you to the dance floor just as the dance finished and the introductory strains of the next began. You couldn’t wipe the wide-eyed look off your face as much as you tried to. You placed your free hand on his shoulder just as his broad hand slid around your waist, pulling you even closer to him.
You blushed, somehow turning even more red than you already had been.
He leaned down to whisper in your ear just as the violins began their song.
“And so the fox ensnares the bunny again.”
Your eyes narrowed at him. “Stop calling me that.”
“Why?” he purred, beginning to lead you into the dance. “It just seems so fitting.”
“It’s not,” you grumbled, trying not to stumble over your own feet. You were lucky that this waltz was similar to the one from the human lands or else you would have surely embarrassed yourself already.
The pair of you finished your first rotation around the dance floor in silence but that smirk never seemed to leave Eris’s face to your annoyance. Flame simmered in his eyes, never leaving yours for a second. You felt something flutter in your chest.
“So,” Eris finally spoke. “Have your owners finally let you out of your cage?”
“I am not caged here,” you murmured. “Just because they don’t find you pleasant company, doesn’t mean I haven’t been allowed around others.”
You snapped your mouth shut, a brief wave of horror passing through you. You had just insulted him. You had just done the opposite of what was supposed to be happening tonight. But to your surprise, Eris just chuckled, not seeming offended at all.
“Do you find me unpleasant, Lady?”
“I remain undecided, my Lord,” you said. “Though everyone certainly has a lot to say about you.”
“What lies have they told you about me, sweetheart?” He twirled your around again, your skirt swishing in the air. A faint fluttering of butterflies grew in your stomach.
“What are these lies you speak of, my Lord?”
You tried to channel your sister but it came out so wrong. You didn’t sound as aloof as her. Nor as cold.
“Don’t try to play the game they want you to.” Eris’s smirk grew into a grin. “It does not suit you, bunny.”
“Maybe if you stopped playing games, I wouldn’t feel the need to as well,” you muttered with a frown. Eris’s grin sharpened.
You were failing at this task. Failing so profoundly that it was embarrassing. You hoped your family couldn’t hear this conversation.
“This is not a game to me, little bunny,” Eris purred, his grip around your waist tightening. “None of it is.”
“Your behavior seems to say otherwise. So does your reputation.”
“Do I not ally myself with this court under constant threat of being discovered and killed by my father? Do I not offer aid whenever Rhysand wishes?”
“That matters little to me, my Lord,” you said. “I am not a piece on this political chessboard you seem to have with Rhysand.”
“So what matters to you, Y/n?” Eris kept pace with the other dancers and you followed his lead as best as you could. “Tell me. I wish to know.”
Your hand slipped from his shoulder, down to his chest and right over his beating heart. “This. This is what matters to me. I would rather someone good of heart over someone with power.”
“How sweet,” Eris teased. “How naive.”
“Gods forbid someone be hopeful for the goodness of people to be the change in this world,” you bristled.
To your surprise, Eris merely smirked once again. “Goodness cannot exist amongst cruelty, sweetheart. Just as hope cannot exist under the burden of responsibility.”
You studied him closely. “Aren’t you tired of putting on a show, Eris? I have seen monsters. You do not seem like one of them.”
Eris yanked you closer and your heart began to pound in your chest. “Then I’d say you haven’t seen enough of the world and its monsters if you truly believe that, bunny.”
“Stop calling me that!”
“Wide-eyed, fluffy tailed,” Eris listed off, his fox-like grin returning. “Still has hope that she can change the world. I have seen this story, sweetheart. I know how it ends. Perhaps it would be best for you to return to your safe, little burrow where you belong.”
A wave of anger crashed into you, your body heating up.
“You don’t get to tell me where I belong. No one does,” you huffed. “Especially not a jerk who doesn’t have dreams of his own and lets everyone else dictate who he is!”
Eris didn’t seem perturbed by your impassioned speech. If anything, his grin seemed to grow. You hadn’t even realized the song had ended and that the two of you had come to a halt on the edge of the dance floor, too lost in your anger.
“You’re just going to have to learn the hard way, sweetheart. You think having dreams and hope makes you something but it doesn’t. It can’t.” Your hand dropped from his chest as he brought the one he was holding up to his lips. “You are only ever going to be what others think you are.”
He pressed a kiss to your knuckles before letting it fall to your side.
“Sly fox.” He pointed to himself before turning his hand to you in a sweeping gesture. “Dumb bunny.”
“I am not a dumb bunny,” you growled.
“Right,” he drawled in a teasing manner that infuriated you. “And you are definitely not caged here, either.”
Your eyes widened as he strode away from you, disappearing in the crowd but not before he tossed one last remark over his shoulder, “I’ll catch you later, bunny.”
You stared at his back as a scarred hand landed on your shoulder with a firm grip, knocking you out of your stupor. You looked up at Azriel, at his cold, unreadable face that stared down at you.
“Come on,” he murmured. “I’ve been ordered to take you back home.”
And just like that, your night–and freedom—was over. Eris’s words and his stupidly handsome face haunted you the entire journey back to Velaris.
#acotar fanfiction#acotar x you#acotar x reader#acotar#eris vanserra#eris x reader#eris acotar#eris x you#eris x y/n#autumn court#eris fanfic#eris imagine#acosf#eris vanserra x reader#eris vanserra x you#eris vanserra acotar#eris vanserra fic
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Nesta: I think I’m bi
Cassian: which one?
Nesta: wtf do you mean?
Cassian: bisexual? Bilingual? Bipolar?
Rhysand: I know
Rhysand: a bitch
#a court of mist and fury#a court of silver flames#a court of thorns and roses#acotar imagine#acotar memes#azriel#azriel x reader#cassian#cassian x reader#feyre archeron#nesta x reader#nesta archeron#nesta#a court of wings and ruin#pro elain#eris acotar#elain archeron#gwynriel#pro gwynriel#funny acotar#incorrect acotar quotes#acotar imagines#acotar#eris x reader#eris vanserra#lucien vanserra#lucien acotar#tamlin#azriel x you#feyre x reader
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Just for reference, this is what I envision Eris looking like in The Fox and The Fawn…
You’re welcome 😈
Part five is up btw 🌝
Also I hope whoever made this fan art is always graced with perfectly hot coffee and dreams so vivid you feel like you actually lived it x
#acotar imagine#acotar#acotar fanfiction#maasverse#fanfiction#imagine#eris vandaddy#eris vanserra#eris acotar#eris x reader
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These Violent Delights | An Eris Vanserra story
Summary: At a ball in Hewn City, you meet your match in Eris Vanserra
Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Archeron!Reader (brief mentions of Azriel x reader)
Word Count: 7.6k
Previously called If I Can’t Have Love, I Want Power. I changed the name to adapt if from a one shot into a series.
You had been born on a night like this, you think. The storm-streaked clouds line the heavens like flowering hydrangeas as they dissolve into a black abyss and the moonlight shines like pearls on the water where the horizon meets the Sidra.
Storm-streaked they had called you.
When you were a little girl, your father had told you that you had come into this world in the same way as the old Gods had. Born from the merciless depths of some unknowable blue-darkness; cruel and beautiful, and fearless.
Now fear is all you know.
The crack of forked white lightening against the darkening horizon pushes you further into introspective thought. The visions come with the quiet; flashes of silver and gold and the icy embrace of the water. That infernal cauldron and what it had taken from. It haunts you, even in dreaming.
Of late, the days seem to pass in a state of perpetual purgatory, marred by memories and the water– an unforgiving tempest that tears through you.
The water cleanses but it also devastates.
Your father had once called you water; the salt and the sea.
You had always wondered what that meant.
But here you stand-- a storm incarnate; volatile, half-wild and isolating. And who can become the water without inheriting its violence, or its loneliness?
The feeling of harsh violet eyes on you is enough to drag you gaze from your spot near the balcony and the storm as it rages outside.
“Are you ready, Nesta?” Rhysand’s voice is velvet night as it reverberates around the small waiting room.
A chill runs down your spine when you catch his eyes, glinting and violet in the dim light. You regard Nesta cooly as she tilts her chin upwards.
“Let’s get this over with, shall we?” Nesta’s eyes are lined with kohl and looking at her is like looking into the eye of a storm.
She always had an austere kind of beauty that left you speechless.
Rhysand only nods simply before taking Feyre’s arm and approaching the large doorway. Nesta and Elain fall into rank behind them with practiced ease. It is you who hovers awkwardly in the background for a moment before taking your place in the middle of the formation. A solitary figure amongst them.
You swallow thickly and you catch the lingering scent of a night chilled mist as you bristle. A whisper of night wraps itself around you like a cold comfort. These days his scent seems to follow you like a shadow; though, you suppose when you’ve spent every night this week wrapped around him, trying to drown out your own thoughts, there is bound to be a trace of him that lingers there.
At last, the towering doors to the throne room yawned open.
The throne room is lined with black candles and evergreen wreaths frame the doorway, and moonflowers climb up the high, onyx pillars like ivy. And on each side of the aisles there were two magnificent banquet tables, piled high with food enough to feed a city. Though it was not to be touched without express permission from the High Lord.
A ripple of dark power reverberates through the mountain as The High Lord and Lady enter the throne room. You swear you feel the mountain wail in their presence. It is a powerful thing and you feel something within yourself begin to stir with it.
A cold rage as it makes a home in your chest.
The courtiers pale as they approach, parting like the tide as their High Lord and High Lady brush through them, crowned in silver crystals and garbed in midnight black robes.
Rhysand looks beautiful you think as your eyes find him in the procession-- he stands tall against you all, his hair perfectly quaffed and the rich scent of mandarin and night-blooming jasmine seems to follow him.
All that pales in comparison to Feyre; the dress she wears is like tangible shadow. Gossamer thin silk and tulle that glitters with flecks of silver starlight, all gathered about her waist with a thin belt that accentuates the swell of her stomach.
The room beholds her with baited breath; a sense of awe and ire.
She looks like the visage of some ancient Goddess of the moon; pale and beautiful in the silvery light.
You sense a shift in the air as they approach the dias and Rhysand’s shoulders tense; he is a picture of male pride. There is a dangerous quality to it that chills you to the bone. A cold violence that feels almost kindred to you. Feyre’s full red lips part and she smiles until it seems to dampen Rhys’s anger as he reaches for her as they climb the steps of the onyx dias.
Keir’s face is twisted in a half-grimace, somewhere between astonishment and anguish. Behind him the Eris Vanserra remains fixed in place, his face set in a painfully neutral expression as he regards the High Lord and Lady.
Motion from behind you beckons you to move as Nesta and Elain fall into step with you and begin to pace the length of the aisle and approach the dias.
All three of you are dressed in Night Court black. A symbol of your place amongst the royal family. A warning of the dark power which you all possessed. Stolen and gifted from that cauldron. A reminder of your value. It is a carefully rehearsed routine as Nesta takes her place between you both, the flare of her skirts bushing against the marble floor with each long stride. You and Elain flank her sides like two wraiths.
Elain looks sallow in black, you think as you catch her eyes. A poor initiation of the coldness you wear so well etched onto her beautiful face and steely determination in her dark, rich eyes.
Nesta outshines you all tonight-- her golden hair braided into a crown atop her head and a delicate crown glints in the lantern light, slender spikes jutting forward in a dark corona. Her wicked eyes glinted like cobalt in the light. She’s dressed all in black. The gown itself is skin tight and embroidered with intricate silver brocade, twisting vines and moonflowers adorn the velvet bodice, tracing the curve of her breasts and sinking low, to her navel where the silver thread gathers about a sapphire that matches the crystals on her crown.
Nesta is a cruel beauty; enough to bring a God to his knees.
And Cassian looks about ready to sink to his knees before her as you regard him on the dias.
Nestas moves with a feline grace, expressive and smirking as she takes her place between Cassian and Elain on the platform.
Feyre and Rhysand sink into their thrones with a measured grace and from your stop between Elain and Azriel you can see all the eyes in the room as they flit from one member of the Inner Circle to the next.
But it is the strange amber gaze of Eris Vanserra that you meet in the gathering crowd. He offers you a courteous nod and the ghost of a smirk graces his full lips and you send a scathing look in his direction in return.
You hope he feels the bitter sting of your coldness as your eyes try to find anything else in the throne room to focus on.
Azriel rolls on the balls of his feet as the silence settles in the room and he inches so close to you that you feel the scarred pads of his fingers brush the exposed skin of your back.
“You look good in black,” his voice is impossibly quiet, almost inaudible as he dips low enough that he is speaking into the shell of your ear.
A cold chill runs up the length of your spine.
“Thank you, Shadowsinger,” You say simply, a feral smile on your lips as you bare your teeth to him.
A laugh sharp and cruel rings through you and Azriel’s hand tangles in the lengths of your hair tugging sharply.
“You are most welcome,” Azriel agrees, his voice is like shadow and wind as it graces your ears “most welcome indeed.”
Azriel steps back into line as Rhysand stands to address the crowd.
Your own spine straightens as though it is muscle memory by now. Obedience. To bend and break as the High Lord and Lady saw fit.
Rhysand looks like Night Triumphant as he regards his uncle with a strange union of cruelty and cordiality. Recently Rhys and Feyre had softened slightly with the people of Hewn City. Keir in particular. They can’t afford to isolate him from court politics-- in case the need arises for his Darkbringers to fight again. Hence the fact Rhysand even abides his presence at all. Rhysand’s cruel gaze lingers just a touch too long though. A careful reminder of the fate he’ll earn if he ever decided to go against Rhys.
It’s been months since you’ve been to Hewn City, longer since you involved yourself in court politics. Longer still, since any whispers of the Trove or Briallyn reached you. Though you aren’t naive enough to believe it is over.
None of the Inner Circle are.
That is why you find yourself in Hewn City tonight. Swathed in the sallow light, and painted like a pretty whore; all red lips and dark eyes, with trembling hands, wanting nothing more than to be back in that little cabin with your sisters by your side-- as you were when you were girls.
Feyre rises to her feet to join Rhys and she addresses the crowd, “May the blessings of the Winter Solstice be upon you.”
The crowd seems to hum in acknowledgement and then they bow in a show of deference.
Or blind obedience.
Your eyes meet the strange amber gaze of Eris Vanserra once more, and it is you he looks at when he kneels.
Keir slinks forward, offering your sister a low bow, “Allow me to extend my congratulations, High Lady.” His voice drips with false flattery as he dips his chin in a show of esteem.
Eris Vanserra moves like a predator as he stalks forward, offering your sister a devastating, cultivated smile that feels almost authentic. “And allow me to extend my sincerest wishes, on behalf of my father and the entire Autumn Court.”
Rhysand’s mouth curls into a wicked half smile, his eyes darken to an amethyst color as she speaks “I’m sure your father will be most pleased for us.”
The implication that hands in the air is a dangerous one and you can feel the color drain from you at the terse exchange. A few more beast of silence and--
“Music,” The High Lord calls out and the orchestra from behind the mezzanine begins to play lightly, the sounds of lyres and harps ring through the air.
Feyre once again addresses the crown, every inch the High Lady, “Go--eat--enjoy.” The crowd of silent courtiers disperse throughout the room as they aim to take their places at the tables.
Each banquet table is piled high with an obscene amount of food and you find yourself feeling ashamed of the blatant opulence before you. When once you had nothing. Now you live without wanting. It makes you feel ashamed. How your old self would resent this wasteful indulgence.
Turning away from the feasting courtiers you turn inwards towards the thrones on the dias.
Now only Eris and Keir remain standing before the High Lord and Lady. You notice how neither of the men has deigned to acknowledge Morrigan’s presence behind the thrones. She looks ethereal and savage as she smirks down at them, her lips look as though they are stained wine red.
Blood red, you think.
The Illyrain’s at either side of you and your sisters look more like beasts carved into the dark stone of the mountain than anything else. Azriel and Cassian are clad in black armor, each adorned in ruby and sapphire to match their siphons that glow faintly in the low light. The brothers look as though they are the visage of some Gods of old; statuesque and hard-faced as they regard the Autumn Prince.
Cassian in particular looks like he might invoke some of that ancient power to stop Eris from dancing with Nesta tonight. He had not objected but, how could he? Rhys was his brother and his High Lord. Obedience is easier than the alternative.
And the fate of The Night Court-- his home-- could rest on Eris’ alliance. So he will bite his tongue in the knowledge that what Eris offers is a chance at defeating Briallyn and Koschei.
From your spot you watch the Autumn Prince with piqued curiosity. He will not stop looking at you and it is infuriating.
It brings a cold anger bubbling to the skin's surface; all biting fury and icy violence.
The conversation between Keir and Rhys seems to come to a natural end and the lull in the conversation has the whole room falling into silence, waiting for their next order. Like puppets.
And your sister the puppet master, pulling the strings as she commands, her voice like thunder at midnight, “Dance--”.
The courtiers like a midnight sea part and pair off in swathes of dark silk and velvet. Even Keir retreats into the crowd and pairs off with a dark haired female.
Eris turns on his heels, the wrap of his riding boots against the floor echo through your head.
“Before you join in the merriment, Eris,” Rhy’s voice is a velvet drawl as he presents a long black box, “I’d like to present you with your Solstice gift.”
You swallow hard and step forward. Procuring the box from Rhysand you press forward, one long stride that brings you face to face with the Autumn Prince and for the first time you truly look at him.
A night-kissed wind envelops the pair of you, enough to wrap behind Eris blocking the dias from view of the dancing courtiers.
Eris Vanserra is devastating; he has a cruel sort of beauty, with a strong jaw and high cheekbones that look sharp enough to cut into you, but his eyes are soft and unwavering. He is a strange juxtaposition.
Eris arches a brow at Rhysand and you flip open the carved lid of the box. Eris stiffens, his voice low and dangerous.
“What is this?” he asks, somewhere between disbelief and wariness.
“A present,” Rhysand clarifies and you catch a glimpse of ruby and gold on the hilt of the dagger.
You refrain from grimacing at the truth you are confronted with. Rhysand and your sister want to sell off Nesta like a broodmare and her Made weapons with her.
A truly beautiful piece. And dangerous too.
Like Eris, something in you calls.
Eris’ hand hovers over the open box and he sucks in a sharp breath.
“You sense its power, then?” Feyre asks voice dripping with a sense of smugness that does not suit her in the slightest.
Eris nods carefully, his eyes flicking to the High Lord and Lady before finding yours again.
“There’s flame in it,” he says, hand still hovering over the weapon. As if something in him senses its true power. He closes the lid abruptly. “Why give it to me?”
Feyre smiles lightly and shrugs, “You’re our ally.”
Feyre rests a protective hand over the swell of her stomach, “You face enemies that exist outside of the usual rules of magic. It’s only fair to grant you a weapon that operates outside of those rules too.”
You stand transfixed by the twitch of his jaw and the bob of his throat as he considers her words.
“It is truly made then?” He asks, carefully. His eyes never leave yours and it is your voice that answers his question.
“It is, My Lord.” your voice comes out all cold and gravelly, unlike yourself.
Rhysand speaks again though the beating of your heart renders him almost mute, “From my personal collection. An heirloom of sorts.”
“All this time,” Eris’ voice is dark and thoughtful, “ all these years you possessed a Made weapon and you kept it hidden.”
“Even during the war,” Eris says more to himself than anyone else.
There is a dangerous sense of anger and skepticism in the air as Eris examines the weapon again, his hand once more runs over the length of the dagger, his fingers barely ghosting the cool metal.
“Don’t take our generosity for granted,” Feyre offers in warning, her voice quiet and threatening.
Eris stills and nods in acknowledgement. He extends a smile that looks courteous enough to be genuine and once more allows his finger to run over the smooth length of the blade. “Thank you,”
“Might I leave it in your safekeeping while I dance, My Lady?” Eris’s voice seems distant and far away and it takes a moment for you to realize that he is speaking directly to you.
You look at him coldly, unable to muster the warmth of genuine affection when he is looking at you like that. It is infuriating. That someone so cruel might also be so insufferably handsome.
“Yes, My Lord.”
Feyre nods to Rhys and Eris in acknowledgement and against your better judgment you let your eyes linger over the graceful curve of his calves and up over the contours of his muscled thighs, all the way up over the broad expanse of his chest and finally becoming entangled in the unbound curls of copper hair as he sweeps it over his shoulder.
Devilishly and devastatingly handsome. Sun-blood handsome.
Feyre’s soft lilt brings you back to reality as she says “Use it well, Lord.”
Your sister's smile curves into a soft smile at Eris and extends a hand to him, “Ordinarily I would ask you to dance, but my condition has left me quite unwell.” Feyre makes a show of looking between the two sisters who stand in line with Cassian and Azriel.
Elain, at least, has the good grace to give the impression of seeming interested. Nesta though looks bored. As though she is only half listening. As though they hadn’t just given away the dagger she’d Made.
Perhaps it was the way that Nesta’s grey eyes had drifted away from the dancing sea of courtiers, or the forlorn look on Cassian’s face as he stood on the dias, but either way it made you realize something. That maybe the Illyrian General meant more to Nesta than she would ever let on. More than that dagger-- more than magic or power or court politics.
Feyre notes the direction of Nesta’s stare and then looks between you and Eris. The corners of her lips twitch in nervous anticipation as her eyes settle on you.
“My lovely sister shall take my place.” Feyre nods to you and for a moment you let the icy wrath in your stare settle over her before dipping your head to her.
Eris’ throat bobs as you assess him with that same cold gaze. A slender hand takes the Made dagger from you and you hold out a hand to him.
He extends a sculpted arm out to you, his large hand wrapping around you as you yield to him. His long, deft fingers brush against yours; his skin is warm to the touch and even in the pallid light it is clear and pale, with golden hues that compliment the warm depths of his eyes. Your chest grows taut and you feel emotion course through you with the force of a raging tempest.
You loose a breathy gasp and for a moment you exist somewhere outside of yourself. You hear Eris’ voice, a warm, low timbre as he utters your name. He offers you his arm as you descend from your spot on the onyx dias. The sound of your slippers echo in the silent chamber. Eris’s face is set in a painfully neutral expression and you try your hardest to mirror it. Hoping he will not see the storm raging inside of you. You think of Nesta and the way she moves with such thoughtful grace and so you copy it; your chin tilted high and each step becomes a glide as you reach the edge of the marble dance floor.
The eyes of the courtiers fall onto you.
You feel the heat of Eris stare as it burns into the side of your face-- you feel a pair of violet eyes on you too. A cold chill spreads through you when his talons scrape dangerously and then you see him in your mind's eye. What a dangerous turn of events.
Dangerous? You had never considered yourself as something dangerous.
Nesta might have seduced Eris, but you will bring him to his knees. Rhysand’s cold tenor rattles around your mind and for a moment you see him standing at the precipice of a cliff as the storm rolls in, and the jagged rocks below look like the opening of a Helmouth.
There is no doubt that Nesta is more beautiful. With a feline sort of beauty; long legs and a graceful neck, all angular and steely eyed. Nesta had inherited the aristocratic sort of beauty that your mother possessed. You had always been half-wild, unapproachable and--
Well, it is your mother’s voice that resounds in your head, of two sisters one is always the dancer and one the watcher.
Tonight the roles reverse as you take your place in the middle of the dance floor. You will bring him to his knees.
You catch Azriel’s eye as the instrumental music fades into momentary silence. From his spot on the dias he looks like a dark God; and he looks like he might just tear Eris to blood ribbons when his hand wraps around your waist.
Eris brings you so close to him that you're pressed against him and as the harp begins to play, high and sweet, he smiles softly at you. As if the notes of music wrap around you, you raise your palm to his flat and open, an invitation if he has even seen one.
The low stringed instruments usher in the music like a coming storm, a summons to the dance in a rushing of music, like water. You remind yourself to smile wickedly at Eris as he slides a broad hand over the curves and divots of your waist and hips. You lift your head high and, looking up into his perfect face you bare your teeth to him. All ruby red lips and pearls and he smiles so wickedly that you’re not sure who is supposed to be seducing who.
Those strange amber eyes-- so haunting in the faelight.
The harps and lyres sing so beautifully in the air and when the violins begin to play, it feels like a siren song in the air. A beckoning. As your body moves with the ebb and flow of the dancing tide.
Eris leads you into the waltz, he moves with practiced ease. He knows every note, every trough and swell of the music, each nuance and note.
Nesta would outdance you everytime. This you know. She moves like the music becomes her. And in so many ways it does. Her body bends to the will of the orchestral sound, and it bends to her too.
So you will have to play it differently.
The music sweeps you up in it’s tide, and as the music swells you decide to surrender yourself to the water. Let it wash all over you. Your body, once rigid and taut, goes pliant in Eris’ arms. You let the orchestral sound drown out your doubts and give yourself over to it. To him. His fingers ghost the line of your spine and he pushes you further still, against him. So close that you feel your heartbeat in tandem and your body bends to his will.
It is easier to bend than to break.
Better to relinquish control than have it taken from you.
Eris’ eyes widen and soften then-- as if he feels it too-- you feel his hands loosen before tightening again around you. Somehow different now. Somehow, strangely, comforting.
He moves with such grace and skill, his body reacts to every fluttering note and pause in the music. And the whole time his eyes are on you. And you can’t look away. The dark, warm depths of his eyes like a slow-burning fire that consumes all in its wake.
You find the faces of your family in the crowd and you see that their normally composed demeanor seems to have shifted, their eyes wide and jaws slack as you move with the tide.
Tonight you are the storm and the fire will bend to you.
You will bring him to his knees, you think. As the music washes over you.
Has there ever been such a haunting and mournful sound in all the world? Your name falling from Eris’mouth perhaps.
The snippets of the music Nesta had described to you, from her memory of the Veritas, paled in comparison. It flows and swims around you, filling you like water, and if you let it, it could be enough to drown you. To sink into the depths of the high-arching song.
Eris smiles again when you fall into step with him so effortlessly, like you are an extension of him.
One soul in two bodies.
His broad hand tightens over the flare of your hip, his fingers flexing before digging into the malleable flesh. The smile you give him feels much too vulnerable and genuine to bring you any sort of comfort.
Eris' amber eyes shine with feral delight and you see yourself reflected in his eyes; you look like sin personified. The dark material of your dress gathers about your waist, held in place only by velvet ribbon and a few embroidered onyx crystals. The deep cut of the dress is so low that it bares the ample curve of your breasts and your strain to catch your breath because of how tight the dress has been laced.
The person you see in Eris’eyes looks like the incarnation of some ancient deity; dark and cold, and cruel. And beautiful.
Eris’ broad hand spreads across the middle of your back, pressed firm between your shoulder blades and you burn beneath him. As the music lulls and flutters his gaze locks onto yours and flame simmers in those dark topaz eyes and a smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth. Cat-like and feral as he dips you low, supporting your weight in his arms. His face comes to hover over yours and you’re transfixed by his unyielding stare.
Beautiful and haunting eyes.
One hand is wrapped around his neck and the other you bring to touch his cheek with the tenderness of someone who has never truly been touched. His face falters and something akin to raw vulnerability flashes in his eyes.
Bring him to his knees.
In one swift movement Eris sweeps you so that you are standing upright, pressed so close to his chest that you feel each groove and divot of his sculpted chest. You place that same hand over his blazing heart and as the music filters into stunned silence, Eris eyes you with feral delight.
For a moment, as the heaving in your chest subsides you allow yourself to remain in his tender grasp. His fingers ghosting the curve of you hip and the small of your back, rubbing slow, deliberate circles into the skin there.
The faces of the courtiers turn upon you.
You, this once-human female, barely out of girlhood, who had been thrust into this world of dark power and politics.
Who stood before them now, coloured in the murky green hues of Hewn City.
Storm-streaked girl.
It is like being born again and the mountain trembles in your wake.
The eyes of your High Lord and Lady land on you and Eris at the foot of the dias. Rhysand rises in his seat and his violet eyes meet yours and something wicked and enchanting flashes in them. Feyre regards you with a wild smile and she laughs before tipping her head to you in acknowledgement.
And in a show of secret defiance you plunge into the deepest curtsey you can manage; your chest still rising and falling with a dramatic flare, and your skirts pool around you like inky shadows as you sink low onto the marble. You dip your chin ever so slightly, never quite breaking eye contact with the cruel violet gaze that assesses you with a dangerous glint.
A laugh of dark joy bursts from Eris beside you who in turn, offers his own small bow before capturing you again in his firm hold as the orchestra begins to play again.
Your mother had always wanted a Prince for Nesta, and yet, here you were-- beautiful, cruel and merciless, with the Autumn Prince sinking into the cold depths of your eyes.
Everyone who has ever loved you has underestimated you. But looking into Eris’ eyes you see something kindred to you.
You will bring them all to their knees.
Eris' amber eyes gleam with want as he takes you in again and you loose a shaky breath as he leads you into the next dance.
The music is soft and light, the strings sing a song so aching and mournful that you feel once again overcome with it. All of your violent coldness, all that biting fury, rendered a useless ruse as the music becomes you.
Eris might be the monster they all say he is, but looking at him now, in the soft light, you see something else.
“Trust Rhysand to keep such a beautiful creature to himself.” Eris’ amber eyes study you carefully.
You school your face to remain neutral, with just a touch of scorn as you bite back.
“If beauty is all you can see, My Lord” You say, your voice dark and taunting, “I fear you have missed the point entirely.”
“Intelligent too,” Eris chuckles darkly and wraps a wisp of your unbound hair around his forefinger, “and dangerous.”
You don’t deign to reply though Eris continues his assessment of you, his eyes trailing over you, afire with dark promise.
“I’ve seen you before though,” Eris asks as he steps into the next part of the song, “haven’t I?”
His eyes narrow on you and you think back to the last time you saw Eris Vanserra.
“At the High Lords meeting,” You say quietly, your voice thick with shame as you recall the meeting some months back.
You had been little more than a wraith then, when the dreams of drowning in that cauldron plagued you nightly, a girl gulping on a woman’s grief. Now those dreams only come with the coming of a storm. A warning or some ill-fated omen.
“The time since the way has changed you.” It is not a question but a statement.
You don’t smile at him like you should. Instead you meet Eris’ burning stare with a measured look of your own, “For the better, I hope?”
Eris thinks for a moment, as if looking for the right words to express his meaning.
“You are a Goddess.” he says slyly gesturing to the dress as the skirts brush against him, baring the slit in the thigh to him.
“Then kneel to me.” You say, not missing a beat as Eris laughs wickedly and brings his mouth to hover over the shell of your ear.
“It seems you came to play the game tonight, afterall.” Eris says, his voice a low murmur in your ear.
He spins you again, quick and violent before you crash back into him again, “don’t believe the lies they tell you about me.”
“But I should believe you?” You ask, arching a brow to the cruel prince.
“You shouldn’t believe anyone here, Little fox.” Eris tips his head towards the dias where Mor watches the pair of you from her spot besides the High Lord and Lady.
“The Morrigan knows the truth,” Eris insists, “though she has never revealed it.”
“Why?” You ask curiously.
“Because she is afraid of it.” Eris’ voice is tempered and quiet and he casts the Inner Circle a look of his own, “they all are.”
Your mouth twitches with the ghost of a smirk as you press yourself further into him, “You don’t do yourself any favors with this mask you wear.”
“Don’t I? I’ve managed to ally myself to this court, under constant threat of being discovered by my father-- do you have any idea what he’d do to me if he found out, Little fox?” Eris asks, the fire within him lighting and flickering in his amber eyes. “I ally myself with this court, I offer aid when I can, I placate Rhysand with ceremonies and shows of deference. Why do you think that is?”
Eris dips you again and the fan on his unbound hair brushes against your bare shoulders.
“Because there’s something in it for you.” It isn’t a matter of question. You know it to be true and you see it in the way that Eris regards you with a mixture of fondness and caution.
“Because there is something in it for me,” Eris confirms, “and tell me, what is in it for me?”
“What is it that you want, My Lord?” You ask, fluttering dark lashes at him and the music swells.
“What is Rhysand offering?” Eris counters and leads you further into the center of the floor.
“Nothing that I have the power to grant you.”
Eris laughs, the sound like silk on your skin and you shiver as he brings his lips to graze your ear, “I very much doubt that, Little fox?”
You swallow thickly and a surge of dark power pricks at your skin. You let him see it; all that cold rage, and the violence of the sea.
Eris' face twists but not from fear and a strange look of reverence shines in his eyes.
The waltz comes to a close and as the music fades into the chatter of the courtiers he whispers into your ear once more.
“They say your sister Elain is the beauty, but you are something else entirely.” His breath is hot and sacred on your neck, and a broad hand strokes the bare skin of your back and you find yourself arching into him.
Eris takes a step back from you, holding your hand above your head and turning you slowly as his eyes roam the curves and contours of your body, “You are wasted in the Night Court,”
“Truly wasted.” His voice is a low whistle as you stop in front of him now.
“And where might I be used more effectively, My Lord?”
Eris chuckles again but before he can answer--
“Get your hands off her, Eris.” Azriel’s voice is like cold death that cuts through the spell that Eris has you under. His wrath comes off him in waves that crash against you, halting your movements.
The dancing sea around you seems to cease to move as Eris and Azriel lock eyes.
Eris straightens his back and he closes his hand over yours-- gently, almost protectively-- and he locks his eyes onto Azriel.
Hazel and amber meet and shadow and light seem to dance in the air. The courtiers wait with baited breath.
“I don’t take orders from the likes of you, Shadowsinger.”
You stifle a snarl as you look at Azriel. Who does he think he is? He has no claim over you. He had made that much clear when you started this thing. A means to an end. A placeholder for another sister.
“Am I to understand that you’d like to dance, Azriel?” You ask cooly, trying not to let your violet rage show in the darkness of your eyes.
“Yes.” His voice is insistent and thick with jealousy and the promise of violence.
Before you can pull yourself from Eris’ protective grip, Azriel is tugging on your wrist and bringing you into his side.
Eris bares his teeth to Azriel and fire dances in those strange amber eyes. “Go sit at your master’s feet, dog.”
Azriel laughs darkly and his shadows become a violent wisp of dark that wraps itself around you in a possessive manner.
You swallow down the shame that you feel when Eris looks at you -- like all the power you had just moments ago has been ripped away from you, and now you are just another piece on the board to be bought and sold as your High Lord saw fit.
A pretty whore, painted like some dark Goddess.
You band an arm across Azriel’s chest as he lunges forward in a flurry of movement.
“It’s alright,” you offer Eris an apologetic smile, “I’ve taken too much of your time already.” You say diplomatically, taking Azriel’s hand in your own and pulling away from Eris.
Feyre and Rhysand had given up one of Nesta’s Made daggers in the name of Eris’ continued alliance, surely, one interrupted dance will not jeopardize it.
Eris offers you a taut smile and he bows his head to you, “Very well then, we’ll play later, Little Fox.”
Eris doesn’t so much as acknowledge Azriel as he ventures towards the dias again.
Azriel holds you in place, one hand wrapped around your shoulders and he searches you as if looking for signs of injury. His touch is cold and biting.
“Happy now?” you roll your eyes at him.
Azriel stares coldly at you, his face set like stone, as if carved into the dark stone of the mountain, “not in the slightest.”
You glance hesitantly over his shoulder and see Rhysand and Feyre each sharing a look of subtle fury. Azriel will no doubt be on the receiving end of a mental lashing. If Azriel has cost them this alliance it comes down on you too-
“He touched you and I-,” Azriel’s voice is weighted and serious at the same time you speak out.
“Whatever has passed between us,” you say gesturing between you and him, “it has to end, Azriel.”
If Azriel felt anything at all but cold indifference his face does not show it.
“Because of Eris?” Azriel asks incredulously, his tone full of venom.
“No, of course not,” You say truthfully, “because we are fools to think this will ever be enough.”
A beat of silence lingers in the air between you.
“For either of us.”
Azriel takes a moment to think about it and you see the recognition flash in his darkening hazel eyes, he looks over his shoulder in Elain’s direction. Carefully, measured, he looks at you again.
“You want Elain.” You say matter of factly, even with a hint of sadness, “don’t deny it-- and I…” your voice trails into nothing. An errant whisper of power.
“And what do you want?” Azriel asks, his voice once dark and cruel is something akin to familial.
“I’m not sure yet.” you say thoughtfully, looking back to the dias where everyone regards you and Azriel warily.
Azriel softens and he lets go of your arms and hides his scarred fingertips in the pockets of his dark colored tunic. He runs a hand over his face in regret and looses a shaky breath before laughing again.
“Rhys is going to fucking slaughter me.” Azriel says and you laugh quietly, muttering in agreement as you link arms with his and lead him through the dancing sea of courtiers to the wine table.
Azriel takes a goblet in each hand and offers one to you. The wine is dark and red and stains your lips like blood. The taste is woody and spiced, it tastes a little like Autumn. Azriel leans into the onyx pillar and angles himself away from the prying eyes of the courtiers as they dance.
You’re at his side and move so that his body obstructs the view of Rhysand and Feyre, shunning their ire.
“How pissed do you think they’ll be?” You ask grimly.
“With you?” Azriel asks, cocking a brow in confusion. You only nod and wait for him to continue. Azriel swallows a large mouthful of wine, wiping his mouth with the back of a scarred hand “not at all, you did them a favor-- practically had Eris on his knees.”
“Good.” You meet his eyes and for the first time tonight you feel as though you might just have something to offer.
“Be careful with Eris,” Azriel says gently, his hand on your arm, “not everything he says is to be trusted.”
“But I can trust you?” You ask, thinking back to what Eris had said earlier in the evening.
“Always.” Azriel says.
The orchestral music comes to a dramatic close and you see Nesta and Cassian dancing happily in the crowds. Elain remains on the dias and you catch her eyes as she watches you and Azriel with careful, wide eyes.
“Come on, Shadowsinger,” You say defiantly, pushing yourself from the onyx pillar, “time to face the High Lord.”
Azreil huffs indignantly and pushes away from the pillar, abandoning his goblet and stalking his way to Elain’s side on the dias. She smiles softly at him and you see some of the tension in Azriel’s shoulders dissolve into nothing but a contented ease.
You approach the dias with a quiet reproach and as you meet Feyre’s eyes she croons at you, her smile is once of a brilliant radiant light that spills from her. A stark contrast to the cold darkness that you carry so well.
Eris' voice is dark and serious as you approach The High Lord, his jaw tightens when Rhysand regards him with a cool violet gaze.
“I have my reasons.”
You’re not entirely sure what they’re talking about and when you take your place next to Feyre she places a hand on your arm in comfort. Though it does nothing to settle the acid churning in your stomach nor the storm that is raging inside of you.
“Care to share those reasons with us?” Rhysand asks, picking at an errant thread on his beautiful dark tunic.
For a moment his eyes glaze over, muted violet as he speaks mind to mind with the Autumn Prince.
Rhysand’s lips twitch lightly and you can see that whatever words passed between him and Eris has pleased him greatly-- at least given him the upper hand so that he doesn’t feel threatened but Eris’ commanding presence.
Eris steps forwards again and adds, “Bestides, it is a bonus of course, that in doing so, I would be getting what has been owed to me even since my betrothal to Morrigan.”
Rhysand studies Eris and then casts a fleeting glance along the line to you, standing dutifully at Feyre’s side.
Like the docile, and obedient sister he wants you to be.
A conduit of his dark power. A piece to be played in this game of power and politics.
“Anything I want-- anything at all, whether it be armies from the Autumn Court or your firstborn, you would grant me it all in exchange for the Archeron girl as your wife?”
Azriel, still somewhat territorial, lets loose a low growl that rumbles like thunder through the air.
Eris doesn’t deign to even look in his direction-- instead those haunting amber eyes linger on you. His eyes are soft and dark, burning into yours, and you find yourself caught in the unyielding, all consuming fire that is Eris Vanserra.
Eris turns back to Rhysand. “Not as far as my heir, but yes, Rhysand. You want armies against the human queen? You’ll have them, and anything else you might ask of me.”
“Just for her?” Azriel’s voice is cutting and suspicious as he hones in on Eris Vanserra.
“The girl, and, when the time comes, you’ll aid me in seizing the Autumn Throne from my father.” Eris adds, his eyes shine with that slow-burning fire, “and then you’ll have all the armies you desire.”
Rhysand and Feyre share a look of pure delight, irreverent to anyone else but you see it for what it is. Feral delight at their victory.
“I couldn’t very well let my wife’s sister go into battle unaided, could I?”
I said bring him to his knees, darling. What dark magic is this? What have you done to him? Rhysand’s voice is like night-kissed air in your mind.
Feyre’s laugh rings through you like birdsong and you can’t help the satisfied smirk that curls onto your lips.
You’re about to speak when you catch Eris’ eyes; those strange amber eyes. And then you feel it.
A bond that grows taut and reverberates through the hall, like a ripple of power and a golden thread bridges the distance between your body and his.
“Mate?” Eris’ voice strains with the weight of it, and you feel like light goes all through you, as though you are little more than a shadow or a memory as you allow yourself to sink into the dark waters that live within your mind's eye. “My mate.”
Your name breaks apart in his mouth and in a flash of violet and murky blue you’re greeted by the storm as it breaks over Velaris. On the horizon, dark and ominous as it approaches. You reach the balcony and wade out into the violent night, waiting for the storm to stake its claim to you.
You were born on a night like this, you tell yourself. Like the Gods of old; born from the storms and the seas, to withstand the hardships of this world. To be cruel and merciless and beautiful.
You whisper it, until you feel that bond in your chest grow taut, strained with the distance between you. And as Eris’ emotions run like water into you, for the first time in a long time you allow yourself to feel.
To yield to the storm as it breaks against you with all the force of a great tempest.
#eris x reader#eris x you#eris vanserra x reader#eris vanserra x you#eris vanserra#eris acotar#eris fic#eris headcanons#pro eris vanserra#eris vandaddy#acotar#acotar x reader#acotar fanfiction#acotar smut#acotar fanfic#azriel x you#azriel x reader
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I wonder what it's like to be the heir to a tryant High Lord.
A child to a horrible parent.
To grow up by their side, knowing as a kid what they're doing isn't right, but not knowing what's wrong.
To never be good enough, strong enough, powerful enough, brave enough, to never be right just existing .
No son of theirs would play an instrument made for people lesser than them, he should know he is above that.
No son of theirs would fly over their court using the wings he was born with, wings that showed his lesser heritage, he should know it isn't right to.
No son of theirs would grow to be kind in a court that wasn't made to be kind, he's the eldest of 7, he should know better than that.
No son of theirs would never just be a son, a child.
Forced into their position, no court would accept a half breed as High Lord, not unless he forced them, not if he wore a mask of his father, turning into him without even realising it with every passing day till he forgot who he was and became his father. Forgotten was the boy who liked to fly outside at night, the one who befriended others way below him as his father would say, gone was the boy who gave bastards a chance at friendship.
What would the court think if they knew their High Lord never even wanted to be one? He had to keep up his appearance, sit on a throne and demand a family with no home to give him something every two years. He hadn't learn anything on how to be a High Lord, he'd never wanted to be, content on being in a warband writing poetry, playing his fiddle for his friends to enjoy, friends his father would not consider good enough. Gone was the boy who felt joy at the simplest of things, not a little boy but still not a right man, even after knowing what he shouldn't do, ended up doing most of it while wanting to be different.
Then there is the heir who wears his own mask of indifference, he knows what his father does is wrong, and his act is to protect himself the best he could from the father who tortures his sons, the husband who beats his wife. Ordering his younger brothers like they are his hounds, losing his relationship with his favorite one because "Half" comes before brother. All he can do is hope he doesn't end up like his father.
But when does a mask turn into who you are? Who you were lost in the ruins of what was meant to be your childhood.
A victim in their story, a villain to whoever sees from the outside.
I wonder what it it's like to be the heir of a tryant High Lord, because from outside, it just looks like a High Lord who will never be good enough.
Because for me, that box is already crossed, to never be good enough, a child to a horrible parent, I can feel myself slipping behind my own mask.
A phrase that shouldn't be an insult is already coined as one.
"You act like your father"
#acotar#pro rhysand#rhysand acotar#rhysand#rhys acotar#tamlin acotar#tamlin#pro tamlin#pro eris vanserra#eris acosf#eris acotar#eris vanserra#high lords#high lord rhysand#high lord tamlin#acomaf#acowar#acosf#tamlin angst#eris angst#rhysand angst
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How can the inner circle look at Eris and not see that he's a dreamer just like them. He so obviously wants to make a better autumn court and a better life for his mother and Lucien. He saw Nesta's power and offered her a life where she wouldn't be a pawn in a game. "But he said mean stuff." They all have, bro. It's obvious he couldn't touch Mor or she would be trapped with him. He let her have the future she dreamed of.
Dreamer Eris. His father is killed and the first thing he does is take the first real breath of his life.
#eris vanserra#eris acotar#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#inner circle#pro eris vanserra#night court#acosf#a court of silver flames#rhysand#morrigan#cassian#azriel#feyre#nesta#neris#nesta x eris
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Eris Vanserra Fic Rec Library 🍁❤️🔥
these fics are a mix of Eris x reader, Eris x OC, and a few general Eris fics with no pairing. if you've never read an Eris fic before, I highly recommend starting with the first rec below (gust & flame) because that fic made me fall in love with him. enjoy ✨
🌼 personal favorite
🥀 angst
💞 fluff
🔥 smut
by @invisibleanonymousmonsters
gust & flame (series) 🥀💞🌼
by @theostrophywife
here in your arms. 💞
like you wanna be loved 💞
by @acourtofmenandthirst
The Fox & The Hound 💞
by @leafsandstarlight
Destiny's Battleground (series) 🥀💞🔥
In Spite of Our Differences (series) 🥀💞🔥🌼
Great Rite 🔥
The Prince of Blood
by @profound-imagination
Finding Home 💞
Rose Gardens
by @munsons-hellfire
Happiness in the Heart 🥀💞
by @sweetcarolina-24
Scorched Shadows
by @azrielbrainrot
Fire on Fire
Mind Over Matter 🥀
by @danikamariewrites
Rescue 💞🥀
Fake Sleeper 💞
Peace 💞
Seekers 💞🌼
Did You Just Say No?
Song of Death
Starfall Revelations 🥀💞
Guilt 🥀💞
Kisses 💞
by @redbleedingrose
Till the End of Time 💞🥀
Pretty? 🥀💞
by @b0xerdancer-writes
It Wasn't Supposed to Happen Like This 🥀💞
by @thisblogisaboutabook
Bad Idea, Right? 🥀🔥
by @azsazz
Cherries, Juniper, and Orange Slices 💞
Fire & Water 🥀🔥
by @honeybeefae
Cauldron Fated 💞🥀🔥🌼
Forgotten Ties 🥀
Valentine's Mini Fic 💞
A Court of Wings & Fire (series) 🥀
Past and Present 🥀💞
Coronation Day 💞
Potions 🔥🌼
by @we-were-beautiful
The Fox and the Hounds 💞
by @bubbles-for-all-of-us
My little flame 💞
Her 🌼
My tears ricochet 🥀
by @2thestars-andbeyond
The Fire That Burns Within (series) 💞🥀🔥
by @simkaswriting
What if…Eris had danced with y/n instead?
by @jeannineee
Daylight 🥀💞
Breeding 🔥
by @jdeclerc
a brother's intervention 🥀
by @azrielsdove
Playing With Fire 🥀🔥Azriel x Reader x Eris
by @cassiefromhell
Unexpected 💞🥀🔥Azriel x Reader x Eris
by @fieldofdaisiies
Late Again 🥀
Brother 🥀💞 no pairing
Falling 💞🌼
by @azrielsoulmate
Covered in you 💞
by @cupidojenphrodite
Morning After 🔥
by @acourtofwhatthefuck
Loose Lips 🥀🔥
by @thelov3lybookworm
Remember me? (series) 💞🥀 from Rhysand x Reader to Eris x Reader
Bloodshed 🥀💞
Not what I expected 🥀💞🌼
by @fineghkst
How Eris acts around his mate 💞
by @ladyescapism
fractured bonds 🥀
by @clairebear08
Woven 🥀
Use Me 🔥
by @historiaxvanserra
If I Can't Have Love, I Want Power 🥀🌼
I Am Not a Martyr, I'm a Problem
by @shadowdaddies
Autumn's Eden 💞
Bramble 💞
by @azrielslightintheshadows
Fake love. 🥀
by @crypticandmachiavellianaugustine
Sweet Nothings 💞🌼
by @readychilledwine
Death of Peace of Mind 🥀🔥🌼
Safe Haven 💞
Relief
Unconditional 💞
Leap 💞🌼
Kissed By Fire
Lapcat 🔥
Pack Mentality 💞
Tainted Love 🥀
by @throneofsmut
Bound In Flames (series) 🥀💞🔥
by @parkerslatte
Overlooked 🥀🌼
Warm Me Up 💞🔥
by @prythianpages
Like An Angel 💞
Cruel, Wicked Thing
by @saphirered
Frozen lake 🔥💞
by @thehighladywrites
Professor Eris 🥀💞🔥
by @thevanserrras
Breaking Point 🥀
Den of Foxes 🥀💞
Happy Equinox at Last 💞
Wake Up 🥀💞 Azriel x Reader x Eris
Petty 🥀💞
by @secret-third-thing
Never An Honest Word 🥀 no pairing
by @nocasdatsgay
From the Ashes, the Wildflowers Grow (series) 🥀💞🔥🌼
by @lucienforhighking
Hounds of Love 💞
Dancing 💞🔥
by @callmeblaire
when fire and ice dance
by @moonlightazriel
Symphonies 💞
When no one hears your calls 🥀💞
by @sellyoursoulforagoodfic
Monstrous Secrets 🥀💞
by @florencemtrash
Flame, Shadow, Beast 🥀💞 Azriel x Reader x Eris
by @serpentandlily
Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny (series) 🌼
Last Solstice 🥀💞🌼
by @fever-fluff
Unconditional
by @yearning-for-autumn
Would That I
#eris vanserra x oc#eris vanserra x reader#eris vanserra#eris vanserra x y/n#eris vanserra x you#eris vanserra fic#eris acotar#eris vandaddy#eris vanserra x azriel#azris#eris x azriel#azriel x eris#azriel x reader#lucien vanserra#rhysand x reader#azriel x y/n#azriel x oc#azriel x you#acotar#eris vanserra fic recs#eris angst#eris fic recs#eris vanserra smut#acotar fic recs#azriel#rhysand#vanserra brothers#eris vanserra angst#azriel x reader x eris#eris smut
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