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#eris fic
illyrianbitch · 11 hours
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A House of Hunger — Series Masterlist
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Pairing: Reader x Eris Vanserra
Summary: Every Autumn court citizen is hungry for something; beasts starved for influence, desperate for control, ravenous for power. Your tastes are no different—albeit a bit specific. It's a deep craving that boils in the pit of your stomach, hot and heavy, all consuming.
You’re hungry for revenge.
Overview: arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, technically enmies to allies to lovers, angst, canon-typical violence, politics and deception, angst, eventual smut.
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[Coming soon...]
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posting this as i start prepping all my series! hoping itll give me the motivation to get them all started. lmk if you want to be on the tag list <3
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historiaxvanserra · 4 months
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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.
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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.
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assassinsblade · 1 month
Text
In the Blood
Eris has been subjected to Beron's physical punishments his entire life. But now a new form of punishment forces him to live through his nightmares, and the heir to the Autumn Court finds himself fearing more than just a punch to the jaw: you.
WC: 4k
Warnings: Oof, we've got a lot. Blood, violence, injuries, death, gore, angst, suicidal thoughts, and domestic abuse.
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Eris stared at you from across the table, his amber eyes alight with fire. It was not a look that held contempt or hate but instead one of observation, as if you were an animal he was enjoying learning about. You tried to tamper down the nerves such a look ignited in your chest, instead averting your guys to your high lord.
Rhys spoke with a calming voice. "We wished to meet with the Autumn Court to discuss the threat of Koschei."
Rhysand was no fool. He knew of Beron's misdeeds—of the way the man schemed in his own court, swearing loyalty to those wreaking havoc on Prythian. And the high lord eyed the ruler of Autumn, ready to track each and every one of his lies.
"This is not a threat the Night Court takes lightly. We do not wish to have another war like Hybern, so we want to be proactive. Have you seen what could be coming to our lands, what destruction is threatened?"
Beron leaned back in his chair arrogantly. "I've seen some."
"Then you know that we should have allies to ensure Koschei does not infiltrate our courts. I assume you would like to keep the Autumn Court safe, no?"
Beron grunted. Eris tensed at the sound, as if he were holding himself back from reacting, from responding to Rhysand's question himself.
"The Autumn Court is strong enough to defend itself," Beron finally responded.
A slow smile grew on Rhys' face, and you couldn't help the thrill that went through you as you watched your friend in his element. Power drifted off of him in waves, daring Beron to deny him. Violet eyes gleamed with confidence. "I think we know by now that is not always true."
Sneering, Beron pounced forward, slamming his palms onto the table. You flinched at the sudden movement, and you caught Eris' body slanting toward you out of the corner of your eye. You willed your rapid heartbeat to slow, reminding yourself of the reassuring presence of both Cassian and Azriel behind you.
"The Autumn Court does not need help from bastards like the lot of you."
You sensed Eris swallow at his father's words. A hesitant clearing of his throat followed, but his voice was surprisingly confident when he spoke. "Father, perhaps we should consider their offer. The Autumn Court can only serve you as long as there is an Autumn Court and High Lord to serve."
"You will not speak out of turn, boy."
The booming voice had you tensing once again, and the Illyrians behind you stepped closer on instinct, hands resting on their weapons. Eris stayed unnaturally still in his own chair. The previous fire in his eyes smoldering as if he did not regret speaking up but knew it was a poor decision nonetheless. You tried to remain expressionless despite the tension in the room.
It was difficult when you couldn't stop wondering how Eris fared in his own court. When he had tried to help and been immediately scolded.
You thought of that moment hours later as you sat at the dinner table in the House of Wind. How Eris had tensed as if preparing for a blow of some sort. How his eyes burned out, looking toward the future. How he had not spoken again for the rest of the meeting, only lifting his eyes to your own in small moments of quiet.
As you picked up your fork and pushed your food around your plate, you fought the thoughts of the auburn haired male away, wondering why he seemed to keep seeping his way in.
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Eris knew when his father had come in with a witch that his punishment would be worse than normal. He had already taken ten lashings for "siding with the enemy" during the meeting with the Night Court, and as he prepared to be released to go tend to his wounds in the privacy of his chambers, his father had escorted an Autumn Court witch into the room.
Beron had claimed he would learn faster with a mental punishment to pair. He had claimed Eris would bite his tongue the next time he thought about questioning his High Lord. That the next time a word went to leave his mouth, he would remember his time in this room, of the nightmares that plagued him.
Eris hadn't understood what his father had meant. Not until the witch was chanting and his head was throbbing in pain.
Then his vision was gone and he was standing on a beautiful rooftop, stars shining above his head, and the moon bright above the mountains. Velaris, he reminded himself. This was the home of the true Night Court. Your home.
And you were there. Your beautiful eyes twinkling from the night sky and from the joy of being among your friends and family. Your olive colored dress flowed whimsically with each of your movements, and his eyes floated between the fabric and the open skin revealing itself in the slits near your ribs and leg.
The dress was Autumn Court colors. He swallowed hard at the observation.
When he reached your eyes again, they were no longer twinkling with happiness. Instead, they were hardened, angry, and they were looking into his own. Your smile was gone, and you were quick to dismiss yourself from your friends to march over to where he was standing, placing your glass of champagne on a nearby table on the way.
"What do you think you're doing here?"
As disheartening as it was to hear your voice so terse when directed toward him, his heart still skipped a beat. He had never spoken to you directly before. Instead, finding it safer to keep his distance and interact with the other members of the inner circle. That way, he could still keep up the cold front.
"I'm . . . " He tried to think of an excuse as to what he was doing in the Night Court. During Starfall of all times. "Rhysand invited me as a way to show trust in our alliance."
Your brows furrowed with irritation. "I highly doubt that. He knows. He knows what you are to me and how I feel about it."
Eris' stomach dropped, his mouth suddenly going dry. Since when did you know?
Heels clicked on the ground as you took a step closer, looking up at him with your chin up. "We both know the Mother was cruel to pair me with you as a mate. Did you honestly think you could make us forget about everything you have done? Did you think you deserved a mate after everything you have done?"
His heart beat hard in his chest, and he gritted his teeth as he attempted to breathe through the pain in his chest. Each of your words struck harder than the last, stabbing deep into his flesh and twisting at the space his soul was tied to yours.
When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse and shaky, so unlike the heir to the Autumn Court. "I never thought—"
"—That you would have to face the consequences of your actions? That a female might not feel safe being mated to the male who left her naked friend for dead with a sign nailed to her womb?"
Eris tried to take a step back, tried to distance himself from each of your cruel but truthful words. He couldn't bare it, he had kept his distance all this time so that he wouldn't have to. But he deserved this, he knew. All of your hatred, disgust, anger. At both the Mother and at him.
When you followed his step backward, he braced himself on the railing pressing against his lower spine. You leaned in and your sweet scent of vanilla and the cold air of night hit him like a wall.
"I will never want to be with a male like you."
He nodded. He nodded despite the tears starting to flood his eyes, despite the feeling of his throat closing, despite the nausea threatening to upend his last meal.
But you ignored his acceptance, his willingness to accept your choice, and made sure he knew exactly what you were saying. "I reject this bond in every form. I will reject it in front of your court, in front of my own, and in front of the Mother herself. I will call her a sadist for bonding me to you, and then I will spit on the Cauldron for making such a mistake."
Then you were strutting away, your dress flowing all around as you disappeared down the stairs to the streets below.
It took every ounce of self control and rationality left in Eris' body to stop himself from tipping over the railing, from ridding himself of the agony festering in his chest and ridding you of the burden of him.
Instead, he turned his body to face the railing and gripped it tightly between his hands, hanging his head and trying to breathe.
He knew this day would come eventually, but nothing could have prepared him for the pain of living through it.
You hated him. Thought he was a monster. Rejected him.
And he deserved it, didn't he? Had he not done awful things in his past?
He swallowed harshly. He had only ever tried to do his best given the circumstances he was born into, but his best would never be good enough for you.
When his shaking minimized and he felt as if he was getting air in his lungs, he raised his head once again.
The sight might have given him whiplash.
What was previously a starry night with twinkling lights and flutes of champagne was now the Autumn Court throne room with towering statues and the evil High Lord himself waiting to be worshipped.
Eris barely had time to question how he got there before he was spotting the red pool of liquid to the right of the throne, a body laying in it.
A female body. One with faint bruises and bright auburn hair. One that had given him a smile when it had nothing left to give. One that sang him songs when he wanted to give up.
His mother.
Beron sat on his throne with a smug grin, and Eris felt rage burning in his veins.
He moved forward, palms tingling with the need to erupt, but Beron held up a hand nonchalantly, his face morphing into one of boredom.
"I didn't think my eldest son to be so impulsive."
Confusion rushed through him, but then he heard a strangled cry coming from the door to the right. A familiar cry. And the rage and sorrow that had been flowing through him from seeing his dear mother dead was then compounded with panic and fear.
How?
How had Beron found out? How had he gotten you away from Velaris?
Two Autumn Court guards dragged you into the throne room, kicking the backs of your knees until you were kneeling in front of them. Bruises lined your beautiful face, and your lip was split with a deep gash. Eris nearly growled at the sight.
"Ah, she does seem familiar, son. One of the Night Court whores, yes?"
Eris didn't respond. He didn't even move. Not with your life on the line.
"I caught your mother trying to help her escape. Despite what your mother insisted so foolishly, I cannot have my son having stronger ties with another court."
Beron grinned a slimy evil grin and then he was flipping his hand in a small wave, gesturing at someone unseen to Eris. That someone--another guard—brought forth a beautiful handcrafted sword. It gleamed under the lights of the throne room, and Eris' hands twitched with inaction as he studied the sharpened blade.
His father's footsteps echoed as he descended the throne and made his way over to you. His sweet mate, always brave, lifted her chin in defiance as the High Lord studied the sword in front of her.
"I apologize for the Mother leaving you with such a fate, my dear. But of course, you must understand."
Eris was frozen. Frozen as he watched the light leave your eyes as you realized this was it. Frozen as his father tilted his head, savoring your acceptance of defeat. Frozen as the sword was raised high, sparking with light. Frozen as you lifted your head to the ceiling as if sending your soul to the Mother herself. And frozen as the sword came swinging down in a heavy motion, cleaving through your neck with barely any resistance.
Eris was choking. He couldn't breathe. He might have been screaming.
He fell to his knees, barely catching himself before he fell fully over. And then he was heaving, emptying his stomach on the pristine marble floor beneath him, and trying to breathe through his sobs.
No, no, no, no, no.
Not you. Not his mate.
His eyes squeezed shut as he willed a different outcome. Willed the last twenty seconds to go back in time so he could have done something.
The thought of your blood spilling from your neck, of your beautiful beautiful face now rendered in permanent fear, of your body split in two had him nearly self-combusting.
This couldn't be real. This wasn't real. This wasn't real . . .
He didn’t know what he thought, why he lifted his head in some last hope that you had somehow been able to get away, to dodge that death blow. He had seen the sword slide through your skin as if it was nothing, but maybe it was a trick? Some ploy to torture the Autumn Court heir?
But the bond in his chest was dark. It was dark and hollow and empty, and when he lifted his eyes to where you were kneeling, he saw only your torso laying in a large pool of blood, nearly identical to the one surrounding the body of his mother.
He cried. He sobbed and he yelled and he heaved. He reached for your body, wanting to be closer to you, wanting to apologize for being your doom. His fingers reached out, desperate to feel the warmth of your body before it was drained.
But then Beron was stepping in his path. The High Lord towered over where Eris kneeled in pain, and the way the male was standing put your severed head directly in Eris’ sight. It hung from his father’s fingers like it were something as trivial as a lantern.
Eris was going to kill him. He was going to burn this entire court to the ground and was going to savor doing it.
As the blood dripped from your cut neck to land directly in front if his knees, though, Eris realized it would all be for nothing.
He had no one.
His mother was dead.
His mate was dead.
He stared at the dripping blood, waiting for his father to kill him too. Begging the Mother to bring the sword onto his own neck as well.
When the motion didn’t come, Eris found himself looking up once again, ready to face his father and death itself.
But the throne room was gone. His mother’s pale body, your decapitated body . . . both gone.
You now stood in front of his kneeling form, your back to him as you surveyed your naked body in the mirror. Your alive body, completely in tact and breathing.
“I thought you said you would be a kinder ruler than your father. That you wished to right his wrongs.”
Your voice was small, jarring to his ears after what he had just witnessed. He had to shake the image of you dead on the ground from his mind in order to respond. “I will be. I do.”
“Then why is your court still afraid of its ruler? Why am I still afraid of my ruler?”
He could barely process what was happening, what you were saying.
A breath and then you were turning to face him. Your body on full display. Eris nearly gasped. Burns—some in the shape of fingerprints, others in the shape of hands—marred your skin. The tender skin of your throat burned a bright red, matching that of your wrists, forearms, and inner thighs.
“Why are you so insistent to be just like him?”
He met your eyes, his head already shaking in denial. He would never—
“I would never hurt you.”
“Then why do you?”
Eris only continued to shake his head desperately. This couldn’t be real. He would never lay a hand on you, would never even think of marking your delicate skin or causing you a lick of pain.
A small thud resounded through the room as you fell to your knees in front of him, matching his position and taking his face into your delicate hands. Your eyes were soft, shining with sympathy. “Everything you touch burns, Eris. You are meant to destroy, not love.”
The harsh words contrasted so greatly with your gentle touch, with your tender voice and sad eyes. His jaw clenched as he tried to push back the tears already leaking from the corners of his eyes.
He knew your words were true. Despite the hope that often spread in his chest at the possibility of escaping his family, of doing better, he knew that he had done too much bad to ever think of himself worthy of anything other than pain and destruction.
He would reap what he sowed.
“I’m sorry,” he choked out.
“I know,” you whispered. You leaned forward, lightly pressing your lips to his damp cheek. “But you have to let me go. If you really cared, you wouldn’t want me around you.”
He felt like he was dying, like he was losing a crucial part of himself. But keeping you, your mating bond, would mean doing wrong by you, subjecting you to a monstrous male, a monstrous ruler who can’t help but be the villain his blood tells him he is.
“Let me go back to the Night Court. Back to my friends and family.”
Family. Friends. The words struck Eris like a blow. Your soft voice uttering them only reminded him of how alone he truly was. No family. No friends. And you were leaving now too.
No one ever chose him; he ruined things too quickly for that.
He looked into your warm eyes, hand reaching out to gently stroke at your cheek. His fingertips barely grazed the skin before you were flinching back from his touch. He immediately withdrew his hand, his heart thumping in despair at the fear that flashed in your eyes.
You were beautiful. So beautiful. Sometimes he questioned if you were an angelic form sent by the Mother to tempt him, to see the lengths to which he’d go in his selfishness.
But he couldn’t be selfish when it came to you. Especially not when it came to your safety and happiness.
And he never wanted to see that look of fear in your eyes again. So he nodded. He steeled himself, met your gaze, and nodded.
"Go."
It hurt. It hurt so fucking badly. But Eris would do anything for you. He would give up his crown, his happiness, his life, if it meant you were safe and cared for. Here in the Autumn Court, with his handprints marking your skin, you would never be safe and cared for.
You stood slowly, backing away from him as if he were a wild animal that could unleash himself at any moment. You were quiet and careful in your movements, and when you finally reached the door and shut it with a click, he heard your hesitancy turn into something just as painful: panic. Footsteps skidded down the hall, rushing to leave this place. Rushing to leave him.
Eris did not remove himself from the floor.
He stayed in that kneeling position, remembering your rejection, your execution, and your battered body.
His worst nightmares come to life.
They would stick with him forever—these moments. When he saw you again, he would see what he did here. Your disgust, your blood, your fear. It left him speechless. Broken.
He stared vacantly at the wooden floor beneath his knees. At his hands resting there. His hands that have caused so much harm. That would love nothing more than to hold you and protect you but are meant to burn and destroy instead.
You were right. Being around him was a death sentence.
He only wished it was one for him as well.
As if the thought triggered something deep within him, he was thrown back into reality. His wet eyes flew open, tear-soaked eyelashes fluttering, and mouth gasping for air in the cold atmosphere of the cell.
His entire body was shaking, from the cold or trauma, he wasn't sure. And that pain in his chest where his mating bond should be—it only grew stronger.
He tried to suck in air, to breathe through that pain, but it was difficult. His back still burned from his earlier whipping, and his mind was whirling with everything he had seen and experienced. His beautiful, beautiful mate . . .
But that wasn't real. You were alive and safe. This was real now, and he was exactly where his father had left him earlier in the day. Which meant you had gone home to the Night Court after the meeting. You were safe.
"The spell shows you your worst nightmares." A voice cut through the stillness of the room, causing Eris' trembling body to turn toward it. "Some you might not even be aware you have."
Eris wondered if his father somehow knew of the nightmares that went through his mind. If this witch saw and would report them for his father to use against his son at a later time. The thought increased his anxiety and panic further, his shaking and breathing still uncontrollable. He couldn't know. If his father knew—
"I would recommend coming up with others for me to report to the High Lord. I would hate to see an innocent girl punished for your emotions."
Her voice was cold, unimpressed. But what she was offering him . . .
Eris immediately grasped the favor. "Tell him I saw my brothers assassinate me. Tell him I saw a world in which humans ruled. Tell him I experienced him beating me in this cell for months. That I both fear him and fear his vision not coming to fruition. Anything."
When the witch merely stared at him, unmoving, he pleaded. "Please."
She only tilted her head, observing him. He could only imagine how he looked: tear-filled eyes, a bloody and bare back, his entire body reacting with panic, his voice begging. A pure antithesis to how he normally presented himself in public.
But she just turned on her heel and made her way up the stone stairway, leaving him on the cold and dirty floor.
He screwed his eyes shut, praying to whatever god was out there that she would lie. That she would tell him things that would only result in himself getting hurt. That you would be safe and he would be completely unaware of his son having a mate.
But Eris knew he was never lucky. He did not win in games of life. He was never granted a family that loved him, people who cared and looked out for him. So, when the door at the top of the stairway clanged shut, he couldn't help the broken sob that left his throat.
He might have just brought his nightmares to life.
You had said it to him then, and the words echoed in his head now: Everything you touch burns.
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ervotica · 1 month
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Hi! Can you do one with Eris x rhysand daughter reader where they're mates, but in a secret relationship?? Maybe they're getting kinda hot on Eris's throne, but then Rhys & Feyre enter the room and they're discovered?
𝐦𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐝𝐨𝐦, 𝐦𝐲 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧
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pairing; high lord!eris vanserra x fem!reader
summary; being the high lord of the night court's daughter is feat unto itself. when combined with being the mate of the high lord of autumn, it becomes almost impossible to navigate. you've been keeping your mateship with eris under wraps for a year. on a visit to the autumn court, rhysand unwittingly walks in on the two of you, and all hell breaks loose.
warnings; smut themes (18+ only, as always), ANGST, rhys is very mean in this i'm sorry i made him the bad guy, family issues, eris is sexy and also the love of my life
word count; 2.2k
a/n; wow the daddy issues rly popped off w this one ngl. just to clarify, i really do love rhys with my whole entire heart but i had to villianise someone for the sake of the plot. so enjoy this mess.
The intensity with which Eris surveys you is searing.
Not a new development - of course - but no matter how many times those amber eyes rake the length of your body, the molten honey of them burning into a deep russet as his pupils engulf his irises, it sets your insides ablaze with need.
You're perched atop his throne, clad in a gown of deep red with slits that slip down to reveal your bare thighs as you cross one leg atop the other. You certainly look the part of the Autumn Court.
He wants to devour you whole.
Your thighs part just enough for him to catch a glimpse of the scant fabric that barely covers your dripping pussy, and you watch the way that his eyelids drop, gaze darkening to something primal as the scent of your arousal encases his senses.
"Sit back for me, fawn," he murmurs as he stalks up the steps that land at your feet. Your muscles seize in waiting as you suck your bottom lip into your mouth to suppress a coy smile. His palms slip beneath the silk of your dress, hiking the fabric further to reveal miles of bare skin that only he's privy to. You go soft like prey when thick fingers peel themselves from your skin to curl around your throat, a thumb pressing into the dip beneath your chin.
"Eris," you murmur. He coos, nipping at your earlobe.
"I know, my love. Needy little thing, aren't you."
Gods, you love it when he gets like this. The lust drives him mad–it's like he can't stop the dirty things that fall from his lips. Each word makes you wetter, has you squirming in your seat, begging for the sweet release you know he's bound to grant you– after he's had his way with you, of course.
His nose grazes at your cheekbone, breath hot against your prickling skin.
"Please," you whisper.
His grin is positively feline as his pointed canines protrude to scrape at the curve of your jaw. "All you had to do was ask."
And then his lips are slanting hungrily over your own, a palm curving around your waist to anchor your body to his own as he kisses the breath from your lungs. Your thighs part, granting him access to step between them and press himself flush to your chest; his fingers loop loosely around your wrist to guide your hand between his own legs. You gasp into his mouth and his tongue scrapes against the back of your teeth as you squeeze the hot, hard length of him, revelling in the way he ruts into your open palm. Your chest heaves as he growls lowly against your lips.
"This is what you do to me, fawn. I've wanted to rip this dress from your body and devour you since you stepped through the front doors."
You keen, head tipping back to bare your throat for him. Surrendering completely. Pleasure thrums through your veins when his lips trail down to latch against the soft skin you've exposed for him.
This male is your undoing.
His hand resumes creeping its way up your dress, the tip of his thumb pressing to your swollen clit through the damp fabric of your underwear. You moan softly, a sound that he swallows with his open mouth against yours and then chases, rubbing tight circles into the bundle of nerves until you're arching into his touch, lifting off of the throne to crush every inch of your body against his own.
His touch is dizzying, and you're so consumed by the feel of him against you that you almost don't hear the double doors to the throne room creak open. There's a bang as they fall shut behind the visitor, and it's loud enough to have you startling where you sit.
"I'm busy," Eris growls, his forehead still pressed to yours.
"This can't wait, I'm afraid," Rhys drawls. Your blood turns to ice in your veins, any and all arousal effectively dying as soon as your father's voice echoes against the stone walls.
"Oh, shit," you mumble. "We're going to actually die."
Eris pinches your chin between a thumb and forefinger affectionally, flooding the bond with as much warmth and encouragement as he can muster before his head turns, and you bury your face into the juncture of his neck in an effort to hide.
"If you'd be so kind as to escort the lady out, Eris." Rhys picks at the cuffs of his black jacket, brow quirking when neither of you make any effort to move.
"She's fine right here," he replies, clipped.
Your father's nose wrinkles in disdain as he strides for the steps, and your breath catches in your throat when he reaches the edge of the marble floor.
"What is this?" he asks, folding arms over his chest. "You really want your latest escapade present for this meeting?"
Eris' soft eyes harden, ablaze with a fury you've often seen but never been in the direct line of.
"You leave her out of this."
Rhys scoffs. "Don't tell me you've gone soft, High Lord." His tone is scathing, dripping with sarcastic venom.
Eris rises to the insult, shoulders squaring as he straightens to his full height. And it's then, and only then, that your father catches a glimpse of your stricken face, lips parted into a gasp as Eris stares him down.
You go still behind the High Lord of Autumn, pushing your body upright against the throne and willing yourself to simply sink into the chair and cease to exist. Of course, fate has never been in your favour.
"My daughter?" Rhys bellows. "You're fucking my daughter?" His voice bounces off of the stone that encases every inch of the room, and you wince as his violet eyes meet your own.
"It's not like that," you murmur; Eris is torn between focusing his attention on you or Rhys, even as you desperately try to soothe him through the bond as he did for you just minutes ago.
"What is it like then, baby?" Rhys condescends to you. "Don't tell me you love him, now." He spits the words with such hate that you're positive a slap would hurt less. "You are nothing to him, do you not understand that? He will use you and discard you and not think twice about it and I will be left to pick up the pieces because you are too fucking stupid to see that!"
You're sure that your heart ceases to beat when your father finishes speaking, becoming this cold, unmoving thing that weighs down your chest until you struggle for breath. Your father's chest heaves with a simmering rage that has always terrified you, and it makes your body coil tight with a silent sob; you continue to stare him down, eyes narrowed in an attempt to push the tears stinging your waterline back. Eris turns his back on Rhys then, surging forward to kiss the droplets away, smoothing the hair at the crown of your skull down.
"You are so cruel." is all you say.
"I'm telling you the truth," he spits. Your body snaps up at his words and you stand on shaking legs to plant yourself in front of Eris like a shield. The redhead settles his hands on your shoulders, his touch grounding as he directs his next words at Rhys, his voice like death incarnate.
"Apologise to my mate."
Your father blanches at the words, staggering back a step.
"Your what?"
"My mate," he repeats, voice quiet with the anger that coils tightly inside of him. The outrage at the way your own father deigns appropriate to speak to you. "Apologise to her. Now."
Rhys exhales, shuddering when he turns his gaze back to you.
"I expected better from you."
White-hot fire licks at your insides as you survey the disgust that curls your father's lip, the way his eyes flicker down to where Eris holds your emotions steady with his touch alone. You're overcome with the need to protect your mate, even if it means tearing your own flesh and blood apart with claws and teeth and poisoned words.
"You don't know the first fucking thing about him," you spit, willing your voice to stay steady. You won't give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry.
"So tell me, sweetheart." Rhys doubles down.
"Why do you do this?" you sigh, some of the tension in your muscles loosing when Eris steps forward another inch to press his chest to your back, no doubt delivering a deathly stare over your head. "Every time I find something that makes me happy, you ruin it. He makes me happy. Why can't you see that?"
"I never thought you'd be this naive. I'm ashamed to call you my daughter."
You stumble backwards, willing yourself to stay upright even as Eris' hand grasps you by the waist and anchors you to him. You breathe, in and out, forcing the acrid air into your lungs even as you want nothing more than to lay on the floor beneath you and sob. He might as well have hit you.
"You've always been ashamed to call me your daughter," you hiss through gritted teeth. "I've never been enough for you, no matter how hard I trained or how much work I threw myself into, I was always the disappointment. And now I find someone that loves me, that supports me and wants me to be happy, and you want to rip that away, too? It's not fair!"
"That's not true," he says, though his stance falters. The mask slips and it bares the fear that lies underneath the cold exterior.
"That's enough." Eris' voice cuts through the stark silence like a blade. "You will apologise or you will leave, Rhysand."
He murmurs crooning apologies against your ear when you turn to tuck yourself into him, tears hot and fast against your cheeks that flare with heat in the wake of your admission. You feel as though you've been stripped bare before him, every vulnerability dragged to the surface against your best efforts to bury them. Your head tips back, glossy eyes meeting his and finding nothing but unbridled adoration in his gaze. He accepts you, scars and all.
"It's okay, fawn," he whispers. "It's okay. I love you."
You nod fervently, lashes drooping with the weight of your tears when he cradles your cheek and presses a kiss between your brows. His face rises to your father once more.
"If you'd like to keep your alliance with this court, you'd do well to apologise." His voice is rough and rasping with your pain but still leaves no room for argument. "(Y/N) is my mate, and soon she will be my wife and High Lady of Autumn. And I will not tolerate you speaking to her in this manner."
You steel yourself to turn and wobble down the steps to stand face-to-face with your father. You gaze up at him through tear-soaked lashes and the sight pulls at something uncomfortable inside of him. It's how you've looked at him for two hundred years– the longing in your eyes for him to accept you, the unyielding need for him to be proud. He never bothered to decipher what it meant. It's all too clear now.
"I will be leaving Velaris," you tell him, scrunching your nose in the same way your mother does when she's upset. It nearly sends him reeling. "If you never want to see me again, that is your decision to make. But my loyalty lies with my mate."
His lips part and then close as though he wants to say something. You internally plead for it. Say something, you think. Anything.
"I'm sorry that I disappointed you," you continue on despite his silence. "Everything I ever did was to make you proud and it wasn't enough. But I'm done ripping myself apart for your approval."
He watches your lips downturn into a frown, the crease that works its way into your brow the one he's been pressing kisses to and smoothing over for your entire life.
It's as though a weight has been lifted from your shoulders as you pass the burden you've been carrying to him before you're striding back up those steps, more confident than he's ever seen you.
You walk into Eris' open arms and smile, your face resting comfortably in the hollow of his neck as you breathe him in.
You don't look back when Rhys walks out of the throne room, the heavy wooden doors thudding closed in his wake.
"I'm sorry, my love," Eris murmurs.
"I'm not." You tilt your head to watch him, bringing up a hand to trace the contours of his features. You drag lazy knuckles over the edge of his cheekbones. "I have you."
A smirk cracks your stoic features and he stifles an amused grin at the question he knows is coming.
"So, High Lady, huh?"
He rocks you in his arms, nuzzling his cheek against yours and marvelling at the way you so naturally fit together. His true mirror, his equal in every way. You preen happily at the contact.
"Anything for you."
"Anything?"
"Within reason, fawn," he chides. You roll your eyes playfully.
"I was merely going to suggest we should pick up where we left off, my dear." Your hand glides the length of his body, circling teasingly around his hardening cock before veering away. He grunts, head tipping forward to rest against your shoulder.
"How could I ever say no to that?"
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acourtofwhatthefuck · 8 months
Text
Loose Lips — Part Two (Eris Vanserra x Reader)
Finally got round to writing a part two to this after a sudden burst of inspiration. Here is Part One if you missed it.
This isn't proofread, so sorry if it's a pile of dicks. Enjoy!
Warnings: smuttysmutsmut 🌶️
✧: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・
The forest was undoubtedly beautiful. A place of sure serenity. Somewhere you’d always found peace.
Right now, you felt like nothing short of a thunderbolt in its flawless midst.
You shifted on your feet for what felt like the millionth time, pressing your back against a tree and crossing your arms over your chest. You wouldn’t be able to relax until this meeting was over with.
Rhysand’s violet eyes flicked over you, and he frowned. “Are you alright? Why are you so restless?”
Because we’re here to meet with Eris and the last time I did that I somehow, kind of, maybe ended up fucking him—
“Fine.” You quickly answered. “Pain. My cycle is coming.”
Rhys’s eyes softened. “We’ll make this as quick as possible. Once the prick actually deigns to show up.”
You didn’t have a shred of doubt that Eris’s tardiness was deliberate — a power play. And he could play all the games he liked, so long as he kept his damn mouth shut.
As if you’d summoned him with a thought, the Autumn male appeared out of a chill-kissed breeze, his crackling-fire-and-cinnamon scent enveloping you. You tried desperately to block it out — and the sinful thoughts that accompanied it. Of bare skin. Panting breaths. Moans—
“Afternoon.” Eris smirked, sliding his hands into his pockets. He offered Rhysand a cursory glance before turning his attention on you. “You’re looking radiant today, Y/N.”
You pursed your lips. Kept your mouth shut. You weren’t getting into it with him — weren’t giving him any ammunition to spill the truth of what had transpired a month earlier.
His lips twitched as he studied you. “What, no smartass response?”
“Cut the shit, Eris.” Rhys rolled his eyes. “Share your information so we can get out of here. We don’t wish to be subjected to your tedious company for any longer than is necessary.”
He cocked his head, and you hated that you noticed he’d cut his hair since you’d last seen him. “Do you not like my company?”
You knew his words were directed at you. He’d come here to play games, and you were having none of it. He allowed his gaze to linger on you for a second longer before turning to your High Lord.
“Well?” Rhys cocked an eyebrow.
Eris folded his arms. “The King of Hybern…”
You didn’t allow yourself to hear the rest of his sentence. For the first time in your career as Rhysand’s courtier, you tuned out, taking in none of the information that was being given. You didn’t hear a word of their discussion as you stared fiercely at a fallen leaf on the ground. You couldn’t.
Because it tortured you on a daily basis that you knew what the redhead’s voice sounded like when he was falling off that precipice into blissful release. The way it had hitched when he’d groaned deeply and spilled into you. It was all you could think about, and you couldn’t bear it.
Guilt had eaten away at you ever since. Guilt and regret. You should never have given yourself to Eris fucking Vanserra.
You only felt safe enough to tune back in when Rhys turned his gaze on you. He gave a subtle dip of his chin, and you returned it — the signal the two of you shared when you’d gleaned useful information to tuck away.
Never mind the fact that you didn’t have a single clue what that information may be.
“Alright, then.” Rhys spoke tersely to the Autumn lord. “Keep me updated. I’ll be in touch when I next need to meet with you.”
“Will it be you, High Lord?” Eris’s lips turned up. He glanced at you. “Or her? I must say, I find her far more appealing to look at.”
“I’ll keep it a surprise. Something to look forward to in your sad little life.” Rhys turned to you, holding out a hand. “Ready?”
You shook your head. “You go. I promised Madja I’d collect some herbs for her while I’m here.”
A small, pathetic part of you wanted to beg Rhys to stay; to keep you company and not leave you alone with Eris. But he was a busy male — far too busy for the drama you’d created for yourself. You plastered a smile on your face.
“I’ll see you at home, then.” He smiled. And without a goodbye to your tentative ally, he disappeared before your eyes.
Eris smirked as he turned to you. “And then there were two.”
“Leave me alone.” You pulled your foraging knife out, turning on your feet. You didn’t look back as you began to kick through leaves and twigs.
But, of course, he was hot on your trail. “That’s not a very nice thing to say to somebody who made you cum not once, not twice, but three times.”
You clenched your jaw, ignoring him as you knelt down in front of a cluster of plants. You would do better this time. You wouldn’t allow your mouth to run you down a path you couldn’t come back from.
He didn’t make it easy, though. Not as you tried to focus yourself solely on gathering the herbs Madja had listed. Despite the lack of conversation — or even acknowledgement of him — Eris pressed himself against a tree and watched you, absentmindedly cleaning his nails with the point of a dagger.
How could you ever have fallen into bed with him? You were such a damn idiot, risking everything for a few fleeting moments of passion. You tucked the herbs neatly away, pushing to your feet and brushing dirt and leaves from your breeches. You turned—
And stopped as Eris appeared in front of you. He smirked. “I’m still waiting, Y/N.”
You cocked an eyebrow. “For what?”
“For you to thank me for not spilling your dirty little secret.”
Prick. You shoved past him, ignoring his warmth, his scent.
He was at your side in seconds. “Aren’t you so relieved that I didn’t slip up and tell Rhysand about your little ride? I still could.”
Every last drop of your sensibility fizzled out. You couldn’t stop yourself from rounding on him. “Are you truly in a position to be threatening me? Both of us fucked up that night. What do you think Beron would have to say if he found out you’d bedded someone from the Night Court, of all places?”
“My father doesn’t care who I bed. I’m free to do whatever I please, so long as it doesn’t distract me from the ultimate goal.”
“Which is what, exactly?”
His amber gaze glittered, catching the sun. “World domination.”
You rolled your eyes. “How very cliche.”
You made to push past him again, to get the fuck out of there, but his hand was suddenly gripping onto yours. In seconds, he had you pressed against the body of a tree.
You clenched your jaw. “Get. The hell. Away from—”
The remainder of the sentence didn’t have a chance to so much as form as Eris’s mouth found yours.
The press of his kiss was hot and needy, and as his lips moulded with yours, he groaned.
It was that action that made you realise just how little space existed between your bodies. His hips were pinned to yours, keeping you in place, and the warmth of him seeped into you as your breasts brushed his chest. Within seconds — mere seconds of him kissing you — you felt him harden in his breeches. His groan seemed to vibrate through every part of him and into you.
And then he was tearing his lips from yours. Staring down at you. “Fuck, you taste amazing. I’ve thought about nothing but this,” he rolled his hips against you, making sure your attention went exactly where he wanted it, “for over a month, now. Tell me you’ve been just as crazed.”
You had been. Perhaps more so. But you swallowed. “I can’t.”
That didn’t deter Eris from slanting his lips over yours again. His tongue swiped out, brushing against the seam of your lips, and you were powerless against your need as you opened your mouth and allowed him to dip in.
You gasped at the first taste of him; something cool and crisp and smoky. And you knew you were done fighting, telling yourself you didn’t want this, as you grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and hauled him more firmly against you.
He grunted as the hard evidence of his arousal pressed against your stomach. His lips slid from yours, dragging slowly over your cheek, and then the cut of your jaw, down to your neck.
“You’ll be the death of me.” He panted, pressing quick, chaste kisses to the hollow of your throat. “Tell me to stop.”
You swallowed, knowing there was no chance in hell of that. “No.”
And that single word — as much as it pained you to say it — dragged such a delicious, guttural noise from him, that you forgot entirely about who you were and why this was wrong. Nothing else mattered in that moment other than what Eris was doing.
Your mouth went so very, very dry as he pulled away to meet your gaze. And then lowered himself to his knees before you.
He was utterly uncaring of the dirt and leaves that stuck to his breeches as he clasped your legs. And the hard press of his hands felt scorching through your own pants. You wouldn’t be surprised to find that he’d turned the clothing to mere ash he dragged his palms up the backs of your legs and cupped your ass.
“You’re fucking mouthwatering.” He dipped in, pressing a kiss to your stomach through your shirt. “I need to taste you.”
“Holy gods.” You cursed, your head falling back against the tree. “Do it, then.”
Like a male entirely starved and desperate, his nimble fingers moved to the buttons on your breeches, making quick work of getting them undone. The second they were loosened enough, he yanked them down with a feral command that had heat rushing between your legs.
And he could scent that. You knew it. He inhaled deeply, and his responding moan was sinful.
“This is wrong.” Your voice was weak, useless, as your head fell back.
“So wrong.” Eris hooked his fingers into the thin waistband of your undergarments. Tugged them down..
You made no move to stop him. “And stupid. And selfish. And—”
Your words turned into a moan as he dipped in and dragged his tongue up the very centre of you.
A satisfied grunt left him, and he lifted your leg, hoisting it over his shoulder. It had you at a better angle, closer to him, so he could feast on you.
And feast, he did.
His mouth and tongue were renowned for wielding wicked, barbed words, but this was a different language entirely. His fingers dug into your legs as he buried himself between your thighs, licking and lapping and fucking devouring. He made his way up, scraping teeth over your clit, the sensation both pleasant and unpleasant. Before you had a chance to react, he soothed over the area with the pad of his tongue, and a bolt of white-hot pleasure surged through you.
“Oh, gods.” Breathy words escaped your lips. Thank the Mother above for the mammoth tree at your back that gave you the support to move as you wished to move, undulating your hips, grinding against Eris’s face.
And from the way he growled and feasted on you harder, you knew he liked it. He was becoming coated in you, painting himself with your wetness. With the roll of your hips picking up pace, he didn’t falter once.
“Look at you.” He breathed, eyes flicking up to drink you in. “You’re a fucking vision.”
“Stop talking and make me—oh.”
Your hips bucked as he slid a finger into you, the friction of his callused skin like a sinful bite you wanted more of. You didn’t know if you vocalised that, or if Eris simply read you well, but he quickly added a second finger, pumping them in and out.
“Just as you felt around my cock that night.” He panted. “Squeezing me like that.”
You threaded your fingers through his hair, needing to just…to just grab onto something. He seemed to like it as you pulled, and he thrust his fingers faster in return.
“I’m going to make you come on my fingers.” His tongue stroked at you. “And again on my cock.”
Somewhere, some steeled part of you wanted to give a smartass retort. But you were far too gone, splintering into tiny shards of pleasure against that tree. There was nothing, in that moment, besides the sensations Eris Vanserra dragged from between your thighs. No long-lived feuds or tentative alliances or right or wrong.
It was just him. His fingers. His tongue.
And it sent you hurtling right off that blissful cliff edge into release.
As you came, you thought you maybe shouted loud enough to frighten the birds from the trees. Your pleasure was a fearsome force as it stormed your body, your mind, your soul, until you weren’t sure who you’d be without it. How you could survive not experiencing this weightlessness again.
And Eris…he seemed to enjoy your pleasure as much as you did. Even though his cock strained through his breeches, touched by nothing but torturous fabric, his tongue and fingers continued to guide you through your climax, and he peppered in filthy, scandalous words that you were far too fractured to make sense of.
Until he pulled back to look up at you again. “I’ve wanted you since the second I first saw you.” He said.
You weren’t sure you could deny, any longer, that this truly had been going on for that long. It didn’t start with that one night of bad decisions driving you into bed with him. It had been years and years of thinly-veiled threats and barbed words and insults and vitriol soaked in lust.
Every bit of hatred you’d ever directed at each other had been to try and avoid this — giving in to a carnal need that had existed between you since the first ever time your eyes had met.
You knew you didn’t have that strength, that resolve, anymore.
“I need you inside me.” Your voice was rough, raw. You reached down, shamelessly yanking Eris to his feet by the fabric of his jacket, not caring that your desperation showed. “Fuck me.”
You wanted it — him — hot and hard and fast and certainly not gentle. You wanted the bark of the tree biting into you as he pounded you from behind. You wanted him roaring as unguarded as you had.
“You’re a little brat.” Was all he responded. And then he was kissing you again.
You allowed him the control of your lips as your fingers tore at the front buttons on his breeches. Nothing was moving fast enough, and you were hot all over, desperate to feel him pulsing deep inside you—
Y/N. I need you back here.
Rhysand’s voice in your head was akin to be plunged in ice-cold water. Damn daemati. You froze in place, your hands falling still.
Eris didn’t seem to notice as he kissed his way along your jaw.
Y/N. Rhys spoke into your mind again. Get back as soon as you can. Need to discuss Azriel’s report.
You sucked in a breath, planting your hands on Eris’s arms. You pushed him off you. “I have to leave.”
He paused, surprise crossing his face. “What?”
“I can’t — I’m needed back home.” Clarity was dawning on you more and more, paired with guilt. You’d fucked up again. You tried to shake the feeling off as you yanked your underwear and breeches up in one go. “I can’t do this.”
“Seriously?” Eris cocked an eyebrow. “You’re leaving now?”
It was an effort not to glance down at the very unsatisfied bulge still pressing through his breeches. “Rhys just spoke into my thoughts. He needs me back.”
“How convenient.”
Of course he didn’t believe you. You had to admit, it didn’t look great — getting an earth-shattering orgasm out of him and then leaving.
But perhaps it was a blessing from the Mother. Perhaps she was stopping you taking it too far a second time.
“Believe what you want.” You pushed past Eris, buttoning your breeches up. “I answer to my High Lord first and foremost.”
“Go running back to him then.” Eris shrugged. And if you weren’t mistaken, you thought that a strange quality lay in his tone. Perhaps hurt, or…or jealousy. “He says jump and you say how high, right?”
“You have your High Lord, Eris,”  you smoothed over the wrinkles in your clothes, “and I have mine.”
He pressed his back against the tree, watching with an unreadable expression as you checked yourself over.
And then the corner of his mouth tipped up. “You’ll be back, sweetheart.”
You shot him a glance over your shoulder. “That is a very, very bad idea.”
You winnowed out of there before he could respond.
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tadpolesonalgae · 29 days
Text
The High Lord’s Whore
Eris x reader
summary: Coming from a disgraced family, you decided to take matters into your own hands, restoring your family’s name to its former glory the only way you could—by becoming the High Lord’s whore. Despite the demeaning title, you’re looked after, and treated well. Perhaps unusually so by your High Lord’s eldest son, Eris.
a/n: anon <3 request—thank you so much for this! I had a lot of fun writing this!!
word count: 2,481
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You’re surprised by the amount of respect afforded to you in spite of your demeaning actions. You would have thought his attendants would be expected to keep out of daylight, to be known as little more than whispers behind closed doors or hushed gossip shared by the servants during meal preparations. Yet you’re often at his side, whether at public dinners or meals in private, you’re taken aback at how much time you now spend accompanied by high society.
Another surprise was how off-limits you were to everyone else. Part of you had expected to be uselessly handed around, possibly used by other males in his favour, tossed from room to room, from one set of hands to the next. Yet any attempts at seduction have been shut down faster than you can blink, either by a hand at your waist, or a fire-filled glance that would send any noblemale running.
You can only assume the High Lord of Autumn must have ordered his eldest son to keep you out of harms way. Could see no other reason for the protectiveness that frequently teeters on possessive, bordering on blatant aggression when opposed with any type of competition, weak or mild.
All it takes is a look, and you’re left in peace.
Yet this night, he seems to have his attention elsewhere, as you’re having surprising trouble dissuading the Lord that’s not so subtly trying to get beneath your skirts. It’s been a while since you’ve had to take matters into your own hands, left a little out of practice.
Still, when you get the chance, and once you’ve deemed it late enough, you manage to slip out from the great ballroom, finding a lonely corridor that seems vacant enough. You sigh, leaning against a wall. Thankfully the High Lord has not called for you tonight, hopefully being set free for the evening. One you’ll gladly take to get some extra reading in.
You caught the tale end of one of his conversations, mentioning a favoured noblemale would be returning after a journey elsewhere, and you would like to be fully prepared to defend your position. Everyone knows the pleasure points are dolled out through appeasing the High Lord as well as politely catering to others in his close circles.
Pushing off from the wall, you make to continue down the long, stretching hallways of the palace, aiming for the library when a hand coils tight around your wrist, jerking you to a stop. Forcing you to turn, coming face-to-face with the pushy, evidently drunk, Lord from earlier. Your heart thunders in your chest out of habit, instinctively uneasy at the unwanted advances from a male. You have no doubt your position would be compromised should the High Lord ever learn of you sleeping with anyone other than himself. And so for that reason, you attempt to extract you wrist from his grip.
“Are you lost, my Lord?” You ask, practically ripping away from him, taking a polite step back to even out the distance. He’s breathing heavily, and makes a dumb groaning sound, before stumbling forward on wobbly legs. Evidently drunk out of his mind.
“My Lord, I think you should retire to bed now,” you say politely, but firmly, voice cutting and clean as glass as you again step backward, shifting with him as you would a dance partner. Granted, a fairly inelegant one, but one nonetheless. “Come…come here,” he manages to slur out, hand reaching forward but you again step away, mentally mapping out the hallways that connect to the one you’re in. Dancing back a few steps at a time like you would when teaching a child to walk.
“Damnit…come…come here,” he huffs, lunging with both arms, almost tripping over his own lumbering feet. Really, you could simply vanish elsewhere, but that would make him someone else’s problem, and the idea of what would have happened had he set his sights on any other female who might not know how to evade his advances leaves just enough of a foul after-taste in your mouth to continue goading him slowly down hallways until you can find one with guards at the ready. They’ll be fully within their rights to use force to escort him elsewhere.
You’re poised to turn a corner, when a coil of flame shoots from his hand, snagging your ankle and you have just enough grace to keep from tumbling over. He grunts excitedly, and you grimace at the sound, pausing to consider your options. “Caught you…” he huffs, quickly approaching. “Pesky rabbit.”
You tilt your head as he reaches for you, ankle still caught in the magic snare, hands wrapping tight around his wrists to prevent him from touching you further. “Rabbit?” You inquire with a faint smile, peering down at the panting Lord, keeping your spine set and shoulders tight as you stand your ground. “Would that make you a hunter, or a fox?” You ask, squeezing firmly to keep him in check. Just a little further and you’ll be in sight of the guards. If you could just turn the corner…
“Hunters kill their catch,” he pants, struggling in your hold, fire heating around your ankle. “Foxes eat them.” You quirk a brow, surprised by his strength despite the obvious inebriation. “So a fox, then?”
He bares his teeth in a grin, face flushed from exertion, and you notice the wedding band on his hand, cringing inwardly. “Well, Sir, that is quite a shame,” you muse, though you don’t think he’s listening anymore. “Hunters capture foxes, as well as rabbits.”
Cool relief sweeps down your spine as a fire-hot palm singes the expensive fabric on his shoulder, gripping tight enough that he hisses, releasing you, magic vanishing as he turns, coming face-to-face with the High Lord’s eldest son. Well, maybe not quite face-to-face. There’s more than a foot of height separating them.
Eris’ scowl is enough to break through the Lord’s drunken state, spine straightening, hands dropping to his sides upon marking the distain in the Heir’s sharp eyes, the downward cut of his mouth. “My apologies,” he stammers out gruffly, clearing his throat with a wet cough that has Eris’ brows narrowing, displeasure tucked between them as fire blazes cooly behind his gaze.
You mange the last steps back to the corner, instantly gaining the guard’s attention—it’s hard to miss your vibrant shade of orange, or the gleaming twinkles stitched into the bodice of your dress, flame incarnate. You know how the Heir’s temper can boil over despite his calm exterior, like the cool and jagged stone that contains the volatile heat of magma. Right now you’re worried he might release that scalding lava atop the trembling Lord, and that would cause quite the mess for the poor servants to handle. So with a polite smile that almost boarders on a friendly wince, you beckon one over to help prevent a potential crises.
“I swear— I, gosh, I had, I swear I had no idea,” the Lord is fumbling beneath the burning glare of your patron’s son, and you’re practically able to smell the sweat and fear dripping from the male’s brow, as if already being slowly boiled alive. “You understand don’t you, Eris? If I may humbly address you as such—”
The blazing heat in his gaze dims, walled off as he finds the guard you’d summoned. “Get him out of my sight,” he orders sharply, and you’re rather impressed that the guard doesn’t balk at the stern tone. It’s not one you’d like to be on the wrong end off. But the guard follow through dutifully, firmly escorting the male away, who still seems to be rambling apologies.
You reset your spine, keeping your shoulders level and posture controlled as you turn to meet the High Lord’s eldest’s gaze, keeping your chin slightly dipped. “I apologise for the trouble, my Lord,” you say, head bowing as you sketch a light curtsey. The fire seems to have banked from his eyes, now just as cold and calculating as usual, not even an ember left. “You should take more care while walking on nights like these,” he states shortly, brows narrowed as he looks you over, stepping closer.
His nostrils flare delicately, whiskey and caramel sparking briefly with distain. “I suggest you bathe before applying your affections elsewhere,” he remarks in that clipped way of his—a suggestion that really isn’t a suggestion. “My affections are not required tonight, so I suppose I will take my time,” you reply, pulling a polite smile to your lips, searching for any clue to the thoughts that are doubtlessly passing through his mind. Will he mention the advances to his father, or keep them to himself until the time’s right. He should have seen you were not encouraging them, and he hasn’t paid you much attention until now, so that shouldn’t be a problem for you to concern yourself with.
Eris’ focus flickers over you again, noting your positioning—having found you in the corridors rather than the great hall. “You’re retiring for the night,” he asks, again in that tone that shows it isn’t quite a question. “I thought I might get an early evening as my presence is not required, and I have nothing else to put my attention toward,” you reply, sprinkling in some truth with the lie. While having access to the libraries technically—you haven’t been forbidden from them—it would be better as few people as possible know where you spend your free time.
His exterior remains indecipherable, but he steps forward, offering his arm in one smooth motion, and you settle your hand atop his out of habit, the etiquette trained into you despite having grown up without need for it. “I’m sure I could manage the walk back to my chambers unbothered,” you try, keeping your tone inoffensive and unassuming, “I would’t want to pull you away from the ball. Your presence will be missed.”
“I can spare a few minutes,” he answers shortly, keeping his attention ahead as he guides you through the halls. “Perhaps allow the conversation to replenish itself.”
“Have many people asked about the return of Lord Blandar?” You inquire with a hint of sympathy, glancing at him. “One step ahead, as usual,” he mutters under his breath, your mouth cutting into a faint smile, his eyes lingering a little longer than usual. “Are you going to ask, as well?”
“Would you like me to?”
“I’m sure you have no need to ask.”
You raise a brow, watching him in your peripherals. “What makes you think that, my Lord?”
Again he briefly glances at you, before returning his attention to the corridor. “It’s quite remarkable you happened to share an interest in Hermet Glaust with Lord Shamsted,” he says, and a stitch of tension is sewn through your shoulders. “Also your fascination with agriculture that seemed to spring up discussion with Lord Crowsley. Not to mention your abrupt adoration for violin concertos that you mentioned while conversing with Lady Sorrerly.”
Sharp amber and whiskey eyes pierce into you, far too observing for your liking, but you suppose it’s how he’s held his position for so long—what’s enabled him to keep his brothers in check. “I like knowing who I’m talking to, and what interests them,” you answer honestly, giving a faint smile that doesn’t reach your eyes.
“All while keeping yourself to a minimum,” he remarks.
“I hadn’t realised I was such a person of interest to you, my Lord,” you reply.
“You aren’t,” he states bluntly, “I keep an eye on everyone within palace walls.”
“Even the servants?” You ask idly, turning to glance up at him.
“Everyone,” he repeats.
You hum in response, peering ahead to where your door is set in the wall. “Then, if it isn’t too much of a presumption, may I ask what it is you think I am interested in, my Lord?” You inquire, keeping your spine straight, nodding briefly to the guard situated at the corner of the hallway. “Apparently pottery, farming, and music, at the least,” he replies blandly, coming to a stop at your chambers while you turn the handle to one of the two doors.
“And the Lord from earlier?” You ask, stepping into your large room, leaning slightly on the frame of the door, partially concealing your body from view. It might be your imagination—a trick of the light—but his mouth tightens. “Putting his hands where they don’t belong,” he answers sternly, not even the slightest hint of amusement on his face.
“And yourself?” You ask with an arched brow, slight mirth upon your lips.
His eyes gleam, but he inclines his head in departure, your attention subtly marking the skilled embroidery of his attire. “Goodnight, my Lady.”
Your mouth twitches, but you keep the smile to yourself. “Goodnight, my Lord.”
————
Hours later, and his skin is still scalding from the fiery rage that had bled through his body, threatening to wipe the male who laid hands on her clean from existence. No drawn out screams, no shackles to keep writhing limbs in place, just swift and brutal execution.
His fingers itch with flame, incandescent light licking against his palms as he plays with the candle on his desk, flickering. How nice it would have been to have the fire lick up the male’s clothing, leaving burn marks in the pattern of a snake-trail, slowly wrapping its way around the body…squeezing…squeezing… The flame turns white, air whooshing as it burns through the oxygen, and he imagines it snatching the breath from his lungs.
Eris leans back in his chair, legs parting, head tipping back as he releases a low groan. He knows his clothing will still hold the remnants of her fragrance, and the crackle of fire in his veins turns to burning arousal, urging him to release his tension somehow. A muscle feathers in his jaw, gritting his teeth against the relentless thoughts, the sensations his body is tempting him with, cock stiffening between his legs.
This part, he hates. Hates with as much of his free-will is left, that hasn’t been consumed by the desire to find her, and bed her. The control that is stripped from him, this one task prioritised over the mountain of work he must complete. It keeps the fury burning in his veins a little longer, long enough he forces himself to sit up straight and grip his quill, aiming to finish the work he sat down to do.
He will not be reduced to such a pathetic mess over her faintest scent; if his body wants release, it’ll have to wait until he agrees to it.
He’ll be damned if his discipline falters over one female.
Even if she is his mate.
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azrielbrainrot · 2 months
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Fire on Fire
Eris x Reader
Description: Being female in the Autumn Court was hard enough before you got engaged against your will. You try to avoid your fate at any cost.
Warnings: none
Word Count: 3966
Notes: Writing Eris is hard, I hope this isn't too bad. Also meant for this to be so much shorter but oh well. Feedback is always appreciated! (unless you're mean about it)
part of the fire on fire universe
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You watch elegant gowns in all shades of green and orange against tasteful brown and scarlet three piece suits flowing to the music. Your own floor length gown is a muted burnt orange that complimented your figure enough not to be considered provocative. The dress is undeniably beautiful but you would have liked it more had you been allowed to choose it for yourself, it was only upon arriving that you realized the color was meant to match your fiancé's. Orange and burgundy, symbolizing the fire in your hearts, burning for each other. Such a shame you didn't choose him either.
Lively music and laughter can be heard all around the extravagantly decorated ballroom. A proper celebration fit for… you can't even remember what the purpose of this ceremony was. Just another in a long list of mindless parties you aren't allowed to fully indulge in, celebrating people you don't like or traditions you'd rather never participate in.
In any other situation you might have loved to take in the beautiful decorations around the room and lose yourself in the music, dancing and laughing to your heart's desire. But, as you stare at the same intricately decorated chandelier, with magical flames swaying to the beat, you can't take your mind off the people around you.
Your engagement ring clinks against your wine glass slightly, both useless props. You were only allowed a couple modest sips of the wine before putting it aside, as no female should indulge in such a thing, let alone an unmarried one. And the ring seemed more like a mockery than anything else. It symbolized your purpose in this life, to be someone's trophy wife just as your parents had raised you. You think a noose around your neck would feel less haunting.
Thankfully, your parents had left you alone shortly after arriving, letting you sit by one of the tables while you watched the celebration from afar. They must have been content with your demure act, the promised beauty standing off by the side while the married and unclaimed fae reveled in the center of the room. You wonder if you approached the table filled with deliciously smelling goods your mother would winnow to you, lest you look fat in your already too tight corset. It's not even worth the effort for a simple bite of food, you'd rather starve until you're alone.
With a soft sigh you let your eyes wander away from the chandeliers, if you stare at them any longer you might blind yourself with the flames. Pretending no one else was here was an impossible feat anyway. As much as your room feels like a prison sometimes, you'd give anything to go back home right now.
Your eyes meet your future husband's and a chill immediately runs through your body. Eris looks as impeccable as ever in his intricately decorated suit, not a line or hair out of place just as it was expected of the Autumn Court Heir. There is no doubt that he is an exceptionally handsome male, you don't even want to imagine how many fae would kill to be in your place. It's just a shame that his personality is less than desirable, and so is his attitude towards you, and his manners when no one is looking, and that he was the final nail on the coffin that is your stupid fate.
You knew an arranged marriage would eventually become your reality ever since you were a child and your father had told you not to bother with romance, he'd pick someone suitable to marry you and all you had to do was be good to him. In his eyes love is not worth it. You wonder if he even believes it exists, he's certainly never felt it, not even for you, his own child. It makes you feel more at ease knowing no one has ever loved him either, as cruel as that might make you.
For a while you didn't pay your future too much mind, you'd have secret crushes, read romance books behind everyone's backs and even had fleeting affairs when you were a teenager, but it came to a point where you couldn't ignore your fate anymore. When you were freshly seventeen, your mother started intensifying her lessons on how to be a good wife and a good mother - this was the biggest irony since she had never been anything but cruel to you - and your time was consumed with preparations for a future you'd rather run from.
Shortly after, your father put you officially on the market for a husband that would compliment the family's powers, and the High Lord himself came forth, interested in having you marry his eldest son. You knew your family's power was coveted in the Autumn court, your fire was only second to the Vanserra line and the current Lady of Autumn, but this still came as a surprise for you and your family as the High Lord never appeared interested in you. There was no point deluding yourself anymore, your fate as a glorified brooding mare was staring you right in the face.
You had briefly thought of escaping, but the chances of succeeding were slim and you had nowhere to go. You knew the other courts didn't operate on such archaic rules, for the most part at least, but you were also aware that none would accept an autumn court noble female. Your High Lord had burned every bridge with the other courts a thousand times over. You didn't blame any of them for being wary of anything that crawled out of this sickening court.
Words cannot describe how much you hate Beron and everything he stands for which is a good thing because you'd be burned alive in public for speaking those words out loud. Still, you know your feelings of hatred could never hold a candle to Eris' distaste for his own father, and this is how your bargain came to be.
Upon hearing that your future husband would be the heir to the Autumn Court, you had only felt fear like never before. Eris had a reputation of cruelty that preceded him, he was a favorite for the throne among the despicable nobles of this court for a reason after all, but following your first meeting, you had seen a side of him that you'd bet not even a handful of people had glimpsed before and had ultimately came to an agreement that benefitted both of you: you'd push back the date for as long possible while playing the role your fathers expected of the both of you and, if you were lucky, you'd be able to avoid the marriage altogether when Beron wasn't High Lord anymore.
Eris wanted to dispose or Beron, burn down the ruins of this old-fashioned, cruel court and have Autumn be reborn from the ashes. You never intend to call him your husband, but you would gladly help him so you could, one day, come to call him your High Lord.
He observes you for a few heartbeats before downing the content of his glass and setting it aside. In the next moment he's walking straight to you, not ever letting his eyes stray or giving you a moment to breathe.
You can't help but think he looks every bit the High Lord in this moment, with his suffocating power untamed and wicked gaze trained on you. Eris walks to you in slow, intentional steps, like a predator would walk to his prey. His three piece suit was clinging to his frame perfectly, showing off his physique with every step. The pushed back hair only made the intensity in his eyes more noticeable and the strands he left out were framing his face perfectly. Eris looked extremely handsome from afar but he's suffocatingly entrancing when he stands in front of you.
You barely exchange pleasantries before he holds a hand out to you. You can feel everyone's eyes on the two of you, observing every interaction in hopes of finding any detail to gossip about. They all know your marriage is arranged but they're under the impression that, as a female, landing the most sought-after bachelor in the court was your endgame. And there are plenty of people who would go to extreme measures to ensure that they or their family member would be the one becoming the next Lady of Autumn. You're not sure if they'd spare you even if you told them you didn't want anything to do with the title.
“Time to put on a show, doll.” Trying not to let your face show the distaste of the petname he chose for you all those years ago, you take his hand and let him lead you to the middle of the dance floor.
The music changes right before you start, the band knows this is one of the highlights of the evening - the heir and his fiancé. People will be talking about this moment for the next weeks, it's not often you and Eris interact in public after all, just enough for him to show his claim on you as your father so eloquently put it.
Eris leads you through the dance effortlessly, your body following instinctively in turn. You've yet to see him be less than amazing at something. You wonder what kind of picture the two of you paint, moving together so gracefully to the music, orange against burgundy, fire on fire.
“How are you enjoying the evening?” You'd rather he was quiet and ignored you in these moments you have to show up together in public like so many husbands and fiancés do. Eris loves to fan the flames and it's just your luck that they're usually yours. He might not have as much as to lose if you snap and let your fire show, but Beron wouldn't let him go unpunished if his fiancé caused a scene.
“Lovely,” you make sure your gaze is both timid and kind, avoiding his gaze as if you were inferior to him. As he spins you around and brings you in closer, you add in a hushed tone, “Haven't been allowed to eat since this morning and my hair is pulled up so tightly I can barely think.”
“You females sure have it rough.” He means it as a sarcastic comment but you've known him long enough to identify the distaste behind his words. Eris doesn't have the liberty to speak his mind so he's learned to do it behind mockery and sarcasm over the centuries. He knows how rough you have it, unfortunately he's seen it first hand.
“Oh I'm sure you have it so much worse,” you say in a tone you hope matches his, “It's not like you don't spend your mornings walking your hounds around the forest and nights only the Mother knows where.”
You see something spark in his eyes, something akin to satisfaction, before he's tightening his grip on your waist and bringing you in closer. He looks around the room first, as if daring anyone to keep staring while he talks to his soon-to-be wife. Of course, no one does.
“Spying on me, little doll?” Your breath hitches and you know he hears it because you can feel his smirk grow. You'll blame the blush spreading through your flesh and chills moving through your body on your performance later, but in this moment you know they're very much real.
Eris has an effect on you. The male is undeniably attractive, you doubt you'd find any fae or human who wouldn't think so, and that wicked tongue of his only makes him more enticing. You like to blame your body's response to him on your lack of experience, but you're not sure it would be possible to not feel at least tempted to indulge in Eris even if you'd already made your way through the entire court.
“I wasn't trying to,” you swallow, fighting to keep your tone steady and not show any more reaction to his proximity. This much was true, you could barely sneak around to find time for yourself, let alone spend it looking for your fiancé. “Maybe you're just easy to find,” you tilt your head slightly, “This doesn't bode well with all your plans.” You swear you can feel a small chuckle coming from him but he's hiding it before you can be sure.
The song rises in tempo and Eris takes this opportunity to spin you around again, effectively putting some space between you. It's hard to keep a pleasant smile on your face while spewing venom filled words at your husband to be, but letting anyone overhear you or find any little crack in your performance would only bring trouble, and this is routine for you after all. You'd never admit it but with his hand in yours the stares are easier to digest, even if your arrangement was involuntary, at least you weren't alone for once in your life.
The song finally comes to an end. You rush to bow to him slightly so you can go back to an emptier corner of the ballroom and escape everyone's prying eyes, but Eris takes your hand before you can. He takes it up to his mouth, kissing it softly before whispering in your ear.
“Meet me at the cabin later.” It must be an important subject for Eris to even bring this up at a place like this. Though you're sure it had simply looked like he left you with some teasing parting words.
The rest of the ceremony is uneventful. You go back to the same place you had spent most of the night in and ignored the whispers around you. Aside from your mother coming by to ask you what Eris told you - to which you promptly lied and feigned bashfulness - you sat in the corner quietly wondering what your fiancé wants to talk to you about.
As soon as you walk into your room you let out a loud sigh. You wish you could just fall into your bed and not emerge until the sun is high in the sky tomorrow. Unfortunately, you still need to let the maids bathe you and get you ready for bed. Your mother insists on having them help you, especially on days like these, as if you could drown in the bath.
It takes what feels like hours to go through the whole routine, getting you out of the too small corseted dress was a feat in itself. If you had been alone you probably would have already burned it off your body in frustration, it's not like you'll be allowed to wear it again either way.
You lie down in bed as soon as the maids leave, keeping an ear out for everyone else in the house. Trying to leave before everyone was asleep was too risky. They had no reason to think you would leave in the middle of the night like this, but you couldn't help being a little paranoid. There's too much to lose.
When you think it's safe, you climb out of bed quietly. You look down at your nightgown and contemplate changing into something warmer. It barely reaches your knees so you'll definitely be cold, but you were already late and it would be easier to just get back into bed like this. You decide to put on some boots and throw a green hood over it.
Taking one more look around, you winnow to your meeting point. No one knows you have this ability, which is how you can sneak out as often as you do. You've kept this secret from everyone but Eris, though you didn't intentionally reveal it to him either.
He'd shown you this place when you first made your bargain years ago. You're not entirely sure what the cabin was used for before but it was probably only meant for storage. Eris must have found it deep into the forest and decided it was a good place to hide, you can only imagine the things he's gotten up to inside these walls.
As soon as you materialize into the cabin you see Eris standing by the fire. He's changed out of his suit but it doesn't look like he was getting ready for bed with the black ensemble he has on. Yours is probably not the only secret meeting he's having tonight.
“You're late.” Incredible how Eris always strives to be the nicest person in the room.
“I had to wait for everyone to think I was asleep so they didn't see me,” you start as you push the hood off your head, “Excuse me if I took a bit longer making sure no one followed me.”
“You're perfectly excused, doll.” The flames in the hearth climb higher, fueled by your anger that only escalates when you see the familiar smirk on his irritatingly beautiful face. “Oh my. How have you managed to hide your powers with such a fiery disposition?”
You ask yourself that same question often. Fortunately, he might be the only person who can make your temper boil so easily. You don't even want to think what would happen if your father found out how powerful you could be.
Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you lose your composure, you take a deep breath and walk closer to the fire. The cloak is doing little to ward off the cold of the autumn forest, you hope he at least ends this conversation quickly.
“I was hoping you'd keep the dress on,” he takes on a seductive tone and looks down at your bare legs before locking eyes with you once more, “but this might be even better.” You will never understand why he insists on playing this game with you, you're more than aware that he has no such feelings for you. You also know you probably look ridiculous.
“Well I was hoping you'd get eaten by a wolf on the way here,” you give him a sweet smile, “but we don't always get what we want.”
The disinterested hum he sends your way in lieu of a response is somehow more infuriating than anything he might have come up with. The fact that Eris managed to live over 500 years with this personality might as well be one of the biggest mysteries in Prythian.
“What did you want to tell me anyway?” You just wanted to get this over with and go back to your warm bed so you can finally sleep the day off.
“Our marriage will take place within the year.” The world fell silent at his words. You always knew this day could come, that Eris could only delay it for so long, but hearing the words makes your heart sink.
“What?”
“Beron hasn't talked to me about it yet but he told my mother to start preparations for my wedding.” He runs a hand through his hair, you hadn't noticed how messy it already was. He's as worried about this as you are. “She warned me he'll probably announce it soon. I thought it would be tonight.”
You don't know how to process this. It may have been foolish but you had hoped this would never actually happen since Eris was on your side. You sit on the bench and Eris follows suit. Your masks drop in the small comfort of the secluded cabin, there's no use pretending now.
“What about your other plan?” This was your last chance: if Eris was High Lord he could simply call the engagement off and your father wouldn't be able to argue against it.
“I will need more time.” You close your eyes tightly, wishing you could just disappear. “I'm trying to move things along as fast as I can but I won't be able to finish all the preparations before the end of the year. There's too much at risk.”
“We will be married by then.” It's over.
“It can't be helped.” You'd give anything to see Autumn rid of Beron, if the price has to be your freedom so be it. Still, you can't help feeling defeated, it feels like you're mourning a life you never even had the chance of living.
You don't know if Eris had any hope of finding love like you did but, even if he didn't, you know he didn't want to be chained to someone he didn't choose either. He had witnessed how awful his parent's marriage had been just like you did yours so he must have at least hoped for a companion of his choice or to stay alone.
“I've thought of sending you away,” you look up at him, surprised at his words, “but my father would order me to find you, and I'd have to obey him. Failing Beron's orders brings too big of a punishment for me and my family.” His gaze moves from the fire in front of you to meet yours, “I would hate to ever hurt you, doll, so I need to keep you here.”
If there was one thing you could respect about Eris was his commitment to keeping his family safe. You're not actually sure if any of them are aware of the sacrifices he makes for them - from what you've heard the family dynamic is interesting at best - but it tugs at your heart strings. You used to pray for someone to care for you that much, to protect you like this.
You wonder how things ended up like this. Maybe thinking you could have avoided this future when it was written for you when you were born had been simply a foolish delusion. At least Eris was one of the best options, as much as you hate to admit it. You'd at least not have to worry about him being violent with you or treating you like you were less than an animal.
“Well,” you sit up straighter and stare right into the fire, feigning nonchalance even through your shaky voice and teary eyes, “I guess we'll have to get used to each other.” No use crying over spilt milk. It was better to accept this reality sooner than later. “Being Lady of Autumn might still bring me some perks in the end.”
You might have to give up on your chance at love and to build a life for yourself, but you can at least help Eris change this court for the better. When you turn your head and meet his amber eyes you find an intensity you weren't expecting, if you didn't know any better you'd think he was proud of you.
“Already thinking of ways to rule my court?” The smirk on his face wasn't quite as cutting as usual. “How ambitious of you, doll.”
“Our court,” you clarify, “What's yours is mine, husband.”
He studies your face for a few moments with a glint in his eyes, noticeable even through the reflection of the fire. You're not sure what he's searching for. Any signs you'd back down or try to run away despite his warnings? Whatever it was, it seems he reached a conclusion.
“We'll rid this court of Beron,” he extends his hand towards you, holding his palm up, “and give it a new worthy ruler.” Another bargain. He wants to add to your former agreement, that one would disappear the moment you got married anyway.
“We'll make this a better place to live, a court we can be proud of.” You have nothing else to lose. You take his hand and feel the magic instantly. You're now bound to Eris in an oath you intend to fulfill at the cost of your life. You'd make him High Lord or you'd die trying.
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clairebear08 · 2 months
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Betrayal: Part Five (Azriel Reader)/(Eris x Reader)
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Summary// As threats become known, you begin to realize that the love you have for the Autumn Court Heir may run deeper than you thought
(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three) (Part Four)
Note: I AM SO SORRY!! i apologize PROFUSELY for leaving you all hanging for literal months, and i hope you can forgive me as i feel that this was def worth the wait. can't wait to hear your thoughts!! (oh, and this isnt the last part loves)
Warnings: SA and Death
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The orange rays shown through the window, cool autumn breeze rustling the crisp leaves as your bedroom curtains billowed out, the fresh air filling the room with what had become the smell of home. You'd been in hiding the the cabin with Eris for a little over a month now, the tension between the two of you growing as you attempted to mend your friendship, needing it and him now more than ever.
You rolled over in bed, opening your eyes as you silently listened, hearing Eris in the kitchen just past your closed door.
The two of you had opted for separate beds after your interaction in the bathroom at Day Court, both needing space for fear of what might happen.
It was risky enough, just having you here, but to strengthen your scent on Eris as he went before his father almost daily was a death sentence. You sighed as you sat up, tossing your feet over the edge of the bed as you rose before making your way to the door.
The second you opened it, the sweet smells of his cooking flooded your senses. Your mouth watered involuntarily, as it had nearly every morning, as you slowly padded to the kitchen.
You stayed silent as you watched Eris, eyes eating up the way the muscles in his back shifted as he moved about, cutting you fresh fruit to go alongside whatever he had made for you this morning. His auburn hair was a mess of sleep and stress, your eyes snagging on the way the ends stood up, giving him away instantly as you recognized the signs of his fingers running through it, something the male did only when he was stressed beyond belief.
Before you could stop yourself, images of your fingers messing his hair filled your mind, the sounds of your breathy moans as he fucked you causing your body to heat up instantly.
You quickly closed your eyes, the action momentarily making it worse as it became all you could see before you took a deep breath, settling your mind and body before making your presence known by stepping on a particularly loud floorboard.
His head wipped around roughly, clearly startled before he seemed to calm, his eyes sweeping over your body before smiling.
"Good morning, mouse."
You couldn't stop the way your cheeks reddened, the way your heart fluttered, all in response to the nickname you'd grown fond of.
Smiling, you took a seat at the table, watching the way he piled two plates full of food before walking over to you, "Morning."
Setting the plate before you, he took up his post at your side, pulling out the chair closest to you, same as he had every morning. You watched intently as he began eating, not saying anything as he scooped food into his mouth, chewing and seeming to avoid eye contact with you.
Warning signals flared in your mind as you sat up straighter, his unusual behavior alerting you that something was wrong.
"Eris, what happened?"
Slowly, the male beside you halted his chewing, closing his eyes before taking a deep breath and swallowing as he gave you a crooked smile. "Nothing, y/n."
He attempted to resume his eating, trying to dodge your question. Your hand landed with a bang on the table, causing Eris to flinch and drop his fork.
Your voice was stern, demanding an answer. "Do not lie to me."
His voice was barely audible. "He knows."
"Who knows?" You hated the way your heart sank in your chest at his words.
"Beron. He knows you're here."
A shudder ran through you as you watched the male with a blank stare.
Disgarding the food before him, Eris turned to face you, reaching under the table and taking your hand in his. "Y/n, I need to go."
His words pulled you from your thoughts as your head snapped up. "No."
He nodded, squeezing your hand. "Yes. I need to take care of him. Y/n, if I don't, he will kill you." A pained expression captured his face, "and I will die trying to protect you."
Despite your hatred toward the thought of Beron anywhere near Eris, you knew he was right. Neither one of you could do anything to stop the High Lord. Eris was under his finger and incapable of standing against him without ensuring your death and his own.
There was only one way out of this, and the thought alone scared you completely.
Eris released your hand, rising from his seat and disapearing into his bedroom. There was so much you wanted to say, so many words that refused to leave you. He couldn't do this.
He couldn't.
You had no idea how long you sat at the table, the once appetizing food in front of you now making your stomach churn. It wasn't until Eris emerged that you snapped out of it, his form littered with weapons and a thick layer of armor covering his body.
You rose from your seat, moving to stand before him. You knew he was speaking, his mouth moving even as you registered none of it. In your mind, all you could see was this going wrong. The thought broke your heart as you imagined your life without him, without his smile, his laugh, his voice.
Without him.
It was a life you couldn't imagine and a life you didn't want to know. Every forbidden feeling from the past few months of knowing the male bubbled up until you could do nothing to stop them, to stop your hands from moving.
Without a second thought, your hands shot out, grasping the male before you and pulling him close. Your hands craddled his face as your lips brushed against his.
Your eyes shut as tears began to track down your face, the feeling of your heart breaking becoming all you could feel as you kissed him harder.
Eris's hands gripped your waist, pulling your body closer before his hand traveled up, cupping your face as his lips pressed against yours with fever.
Your fingers tangled in his hair as your lungs screamed for air. Pulling back, both of you panting heavily, you could do nothing but watch him, asking for the only thing you could.
"Please, Eris."
The male groaned, lips dipping down and catching yours again roughly as your hands grasped at his clothing, wanting to rid him of the material as soon as possible. Your chest pushed against his, taught nipples rubbing against the fabric of your shirt and highlighting your pleasure.
Tears trailed down your cheeks faster as Eris gripped your hands that had moved down to the buckle of his pants, halting your movements and pulling away from you.
"Y/n, I can't."
Confusion pulled at your brows as you looked up at him. "You can, Eris, please. I need you."
He shook his head. "No, mouse."
Frustration and despair washed through you like a high tide, your mind scrambling to keep up with the emotions corsing through your body.
Your voice broke as you spoke. "Why?"
His rough hands cupped your cheeks as he rested his forehead against yours. "Because, y/n, I don't deserve you." You opened your mouth to protest but were cut off, "You deserve better than me. I know you can't understand that right now, but someday, I hope you can. Y/n, you are an amazingly talented, beautiful, and smart woman, and I put you in danger. It's because of me that there are men headed here to kill you."
You shook your head, hating the words coming from his mouth as he continued, "I care for you, more than you'll ever know, and that is the reason I am saying no to you, mouse."
A sob escaped you as he kissed your forehead, slowly backing away from you and making his way to the door. "There is a sword in the back of your wardrobe and daggers under your dresser. Use them please and stay here until I come back."
You could only nod as he swung the front door open and slipped through.
Your voice was quiet, catching his attention enough to send his foot halting the door before it shut and holding it open enough to hear your words.
"Eris? Please come home to me."
There was no answer, the silence shattering your heart as you understood the weight of the situation you were both in.
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You'd been wandering the house aimlessly, body wrapped in the scent of the male you yearned for as your body swam in his shirt. Shortly after Eris had left, you'd gone through the house in search of weapons and began hiding them in new places, places you could easily get to.
Now, you could do nothing but wait. You paced the house, heavy sword dragging across the floor with an unnerving scrapping sound as you stared blankly ahead, your tears long since dried.
Images played endlessly in your head, none of them concerning you and instead highlighting him. There seemed to be endless ways in which this ordeal could go wrong, all of them ending with him dead, and you much the same. Halting, you closed your eyes, momentarily welcoming the images of Eris's death before taking a few shuddering breaths.
You needed to focus. Reset. Any distractions from this point forward could cost you your life, a life you intended on keeping for as long as possible.
A life you wanted with him.
It was a hard pill to swallow, one that you'd avoided for the longest time, never wanting to face the truth. But it was inevitable now, the knowledge of your feelings for him.
You loved him.
And if the two of you survived this, when you survived, you planned on telling him, convicing him that his idea of what he deserved was tainted.
The distant sound of horse hoofs kicking up dirt starttled you from your thoughts, sending your heart into high-gear as you moved carefully to the window.
Approaching fast were three men saddled atop horses marked by the Autumn Court colors, all three males branding swords while the horse leading the pack held a sack filled with Mother only knows what.
Your heart was leaping from your chest as you backed away, moving into your hiding spot and dropping your sword nearby as a cool metal dagger sat in your hands. Your knuckles became white as footsteps approached the house seconds before the front door was kicked in.
Your mind zeroed in on the sound as you listened, hearing the men venture into the cabin, stupidly splitting up.
Stupidly falling into your trap.
One of the men entered Eris room, the very room you were hidden in, shadows concealing your form as you calmed your breathing. He slowly drew closer to you, eyes squinting as he attempted to separate you from the darkness.
Just as you had planned, one of the men hollered, claiming that he had located you in your bedroom down the second hall.
The male in Eris's room spun around, meaning to meet up with his companions and fufill whatever orders they'd been given. With his back turned to you, you leapt out from the shadows, blade glinting as you landed on his back, slitting his throat within seconds as he let out a muffled grunt before falling to the floor with a soft thud.
Before the wound could heal, you disgarded your dagger, reaching for the sword he was attempting to swing at you and deflecting his blow before re-directing it into his chest, mind reveling in the sound of the blade jamming into the wooden floor.
His body fell limp, eyes becoming glassy as you quickly pulled yourself from him, picking up your own sword and disapearing into the hall. A call sounded from your bedroom as the other two males realized that it had been a trap, both of them shouting at the sound of shuffling coming from Eris's room.
As they rushed down the hallway, completely passing you, they came face to face with the now dead guard. You knew you had mere seconds to make it to your next spot, knowing that they wouldn't split up again and that your next fight wouldn't be so easy.
Turning the corned, you exited the closet you'd tucked yourself into, making a quick dash down the hall, careful of your footsteps as you did your best to hit the floorboards perfectly.
You were almost there when it happened, the one part of your plan you didn't prepare for: an extra person.
The male was on you before you could blink as you realized your mistake, never once checking to make sure there wasn't a fourth guard following further behind.
His arm swung out as yours did too, catching his blow and using his force against him as your fist sent his head swiveling to the side. His hand collided with your side and sent pain shooting through your ribs as your foot hooked around his ankle, pulling and sending the large male to the floor.
You were about to turn and make a run for it when the other two guards apeared, knocking any weapons from your hands and out of reach before they grabbed you.
The one on your right began barking orders as you flailed, kicking your legs about as you scratched at them, earning a punch to the gut that had you doubling over in pain.
"Outside, now."
Your stomach sank as you were dragged towards the front door, feet scrapping along the floor as you went, unable to properly regain your footing.
The sunlight blinded you as you were brought out to the front yard, the male behind you being anything but gentle as he kicked the back of your leg, sending you to your knees before them.
He lunged for you, hands dragging over your body as he groped and grabbed, checking you for any weapons and pulling a multitude of daggers from your form. Bile rose in your throat as he purposely grabbed at your chest, sending your body flinching slightly, which earned a chorus of laughter from the two males still holding you.
Your right arm was released as your hands were bound, the rope holding them together also tying you to your captors as you became leashed to them.
The one in charge stepped back, eyeing the other two and you before seeming to make a decision. The glint in his eyes was unsettling as you braced yourself for what was to come.
His words, however, were not what you expected.
"Rough her up a bit, boys. When your finished, load her on the horse."
You could picture the smirks behind you, ones that had even your blood chilling. It was absolutely foul, the way they treated women in this court and your stomach churned at the thought of what was about to happen to you.
Your eyes fell shut as you sucked in a breath seconds before their hands struck, striking your body over and over again until you were unable to stop the small groans that escaped you.
You hardly realized they'd stopped until you heard a familiar voice.
"Let. Her. Go."
His voice was icy, laced with the promise of death as he stood at the edge of the clearing, somehow seeming to tower over everyone despite his distance.
The male who had directed your beating looked to him. "I'm afraid we can't do that, High Lord's orders." He paused, smirking at the other males, "And he'll be more than happy to have you delivered to him, as well."
Eris looked like death incarnate as he stalked towards the male speaking. Your eyes didn't miss the blood that stained his clothes, quickly scanning for any signs of injury and coming up empty-handed.
He stopped only when a small space separated him from the male, now seeming to become worried.
Your eyes widened as Eris spoke, unable to believe what you were seeing.
"I am your High Lord now, and I am ordering that you release her. Now." In between their bodies was now the head of the former High Lord, his blood soaking the grass as Beron's face hung, still and unmoving at last.
The males froze, not yet moving, and earning a snarl from the red-headed male before you. "Did I stutter? Unless the three of you want to end up like him," he shook the head in his hands slightly, spattering blood on the male in front of him before tossing his fathers head to the ground, "then I suggest that you do as you're told."
Taking a step back from the decapitated head, the guard gestured for the males to release you.
With slight hesitation, the men did as they were told, releasing your arms and backing away from you as you crumpled to the ground. Deep set relief settled with in your bones, calming your very being at the sight of Eris, untouched and in one piece.
You hadn't yet registered his words, not quite able to comprehend that the horrid man the male before you had called a father was now dead, gone from this world and no longer able to impose any sort of threat on either one of your lives.
Eris was High Lord.
The words sat heavily on your tongue, their taste unfamiliar in your mouth. None of this felt real. Not the bruises now littering your sides. Not the body in Eris's bedroom. Not the head at the feet male you loved.
None of it.
Eris provided the males with a series of orders, orders you were unable to hear from your place on the ground. Your arms were still wrapped around yourself as you lay in a crumpled ball, hoping and praying that the bruises would begin healing soon.
The leaves around your body crunched as heavy footsteps approached you. Looking up, you found brilliant amber eyes running along your body.
We his gaze met yours, Eris said nothing as the muscles in his cheek twitched. Carefully, he pulled you into his arms, holding you close to his solid chest, tightening his hold on you as your arms wrapped around him, attempting to pull yourself closer to his body as you soaked up his scent.
Your eyes began to close as exhaustion sunk into you, needing to sleep despite the endless river of questions flowing through your mind. You could feel Eris walking through the woods, making his way to the edge of the protection spell before winnowing to the Autumn Court estate.
The movement jolted your body, sending your eyes flying open only to find Eris still watching you closely. Something like regret shown in his eyes, a look you positively hated. He made his way through the house, ignoring any and all questions and demands for answers sent his way.
He stopped at a large wooden door before kicking it open and sending twin flames to secure the locks. Your eyes never strayed from his as he brought you into the bathroom, placing your body gently onto the sink. It was then that you noticed the blood that had dried on your skin, the feeling sending a shiver up your spine as you became desperate to rid your body of it.
The feeling was much like the one you'd had the night you found Azriel with Elain. Your eyes widdened at the absense of any pain, finding that the bond no longer burned with sadness at the thought of what you'd lost. Instead, you found yourself watching as Eris moved towards the shower, turning on the hot spray and pulling two towels from a nearby cabinet.
The movements were comforting as he came back to you, standing between your legs as his fingers brushed against your hair, tucking the fallen strands behind your ear.
"May I?"
His voice sounded shredded, borderline broken as you nodded, body tired and heavy as you worked to keep yourself upright. Your tounge was heavy in your mouth, unable to bring yourself to speak any sort of response. You had a feeling that Eris was having much the same issues as he seemed lost in thought, the weight of his actions from earlier seeming to set in.
His fingers were gentle as they pulled your shirt from your body, hands respectful as he unclipped your bra. You sucked in a small breath as you realized your position.
Although there was nothing sexual about his actions as he removed your pants, you couldn't help but become self-conscious as the urge to cover your naked body became overwhelming.
Eris didn't give you time to think much further as he gently picked you up, walking you to the shower before placing you under the spray. You stood there, unmoving as you watched him strip before stepping in behind you.
Your eyes fluttered shut as he began scrubbing your scalp, taking expert care of your hair before moving to your torso and ridding your body of any blood. His hands shook as he brushed over the brusies littering your sides before quickly moving past them.
The two of you stood still, his thick arms banding around your middle as his head rested atop yours, neither one of you able to say anything as you soaked up the silence, enjoying its sound for the first time in months.
Slowly, you turned around, reaching for the soap that smelled of pure Eris, its scent further comforting you as you reached up to scrub his scalp. His arms sat loosely around your hips, head tilted down to watch you carefully as you worked to clean him in the same way he had you.
You swallowed hard as you grabbed for the wash cloth, lathering it up before beginning to scrub his body, eyes watching closely as the soap followed the contours of his muscles. Signaling for him to turn, you watched as he faced the shower wall, hands coming up to support himself as leaned against it.
Try as you might, you couldn't stop your eyes from venturing south, catching a glimps of his sizable member as he moved away from you.
You swallowed around the lump in your throat as you ran the rag along his back, attempting to calm your body even as heat flooded between your thighs. Now wasn't the time, and as much as your mind knew that, your body didn't seem to be on the same page.
The two of you had finished up quickly, ignoring the tension between your bodies when Eris finally turned around, his eyes bright with a fire you hadn't seen before. The look stired a deep hunger within you, one you chose to ignore as you followed him out of the shower, both dressing in silence before exiting the room, steam wafting out behind you.
The rest of the night seemed quiet as Eris attempted to calm the memebers of the house, assuring them that he would adress their concerns in the morning. You knew that the two of you needed to talk, knew that the events of the day had drastically changed your relationship. You knew what you wanted, knew the outcome you hoped for, yet worry sat within you at the thought that Eris might not want the same.
Might not want you.
As you followed him back to his chambers, your heartbeat became more urgent. Walking into the openness of his room, the bare walls a stark constrast to the colors that had filled the cabin, the click of the door shutting became deafening.
Turning to face him, you found his eyes searching yours as he attempted to find a way to start the conversation.
"Y/n..."
You gave him no time, taking a few long strides that left you standing chest-to-chest with him as you rose on your toes, hands pulling his mouth down to yours.
As your mouths met, you realized you had nothing to say, no words that could convey your feelings accurately. Your actions were your only hope at making him understand.
A moan escaped you as his hands roughly gripped your hips, pulling you impossibly closer to him. His tounge prodded at the seam of your lips, pushing past the barrier and sweeping through your mouth.
His taste was sweeter than you'd expected, somehow still harboring the earthy tones that were pure Eris. Your touches became more desperate as your hands scrapped along his chest, plunging into his hair and finding purchase. Holding him this close to you, something settled in your chest, a peace and happiness that you hadn't felt in a long time.
Even through his clothing and yours, you could feel his hardened member, the feeling of it against your thigh sending heat flowing straight to your core as your musks mixed in the air.
"Y/n..."
This time, your name fell from his lips as a moan, no longer carrying the weight of your discussion but instead the weight of his need. The sound did funny things to your stomach as your insides flipped with anticipation.
As your kiss grew more fevered, touches more desperate, you slowly began walking backward, hinting to Eris that kissing him was no longer cutting it, hinting that you needed more from him.
Needed everything.
Eris caught your movements, kissing you impossibly harder as he rushed the two of you towards the bed, tossing your body onto the sheets and following you down.
With his weight resting on you, the world felt complete. Your heart practically sighed with relief as unfamiliar feelings swept through you. Eris was different. You were different, and it felt great.
Your hands pressed against his chest, halting his kissing, which had ventured down your neck, leaving marks that you couldn't wait to see in the morning. He immediately backed off of your body, slight worry taking over his features that was quickly silenced as your lips collided with his as you instead pushed him until his back was flush with the headboad.
Crawling to him, you sat yourself on his lap, straddling his thighs beneath your own as you bit his swollen lip.
His eyes were blown wide, cheeks flushed, and hair messed. You knew you looked much the same but couldn't be bothered to care as you recaptured his mouth, allowing your fingers to trail his shirt, yanking at the material until he removed it.
It was impossible to look away as you took in inch after inch of pure muscle, eyes eating up the way they flexed with each labored breath. His physique was unmatched as every coherent thought escaped your mind.
Still frozen in your place, Eris laughed, his hand coming up and tangling in your hair. "You can gawk later, mouse."
And with that, your lips were back on his, passion fueling your movements as your desire grew. You weren't sure when it started, but at some point, your hips had begun to move, grinding against the muscle of his legs as the apex of your thighs brushed against his hardened member.
With each passing second, your touches became more desperate, movements more urgent until Eris was pulling back, his head falling against the headboard.
"Mouse, you have to stop, I can't take it."
Biting your lip, you bent down, kissing up his exposed neck. "I think you can."
He moaned loudly, the sound like music to your ears. His body began to shake slightly, eyes tightening as they shut. You smirked, wanting to see what the male before you looked like when he came undone.
He shook his head slightly. "Please, y/n, I really can't with you doing that."
Your breath caressed the shell of his ear as your body continued to move over his, working him harder. "Then let go, Eris."
His eyes opened as he took the sight of you riding him in, the image sending him over the edge as a string of profanities escaped him. His body moved beneath yours in answer as he rode his high, the sight of him before you causing your heart to swell.
The second he settled, your lips were on him, kissing him desperately. Your fingers ventured south, gripping his belt and beginning to pull the latch free. His hand fell atop yours, stopping the movement as his whole demenor shifted.
"Y/n, not now."
Your eyes flashed to him as hurt bloomed in your chest. Sensing his mistake, Eris caught your cheek in his hand. "Not because I don't want to, mouse, but because we need to talk."
You sat back on your heels. "There's nothing to talk about, Eris, I have nothing to say. I want this. I want you."
His throat bobbed as he soaked up your words, his pause causing your heart to have spasms. His voice was strained as he spoke. "I want that too, y/n. I want you." He paused, a smile appearing on his face that was twin to the one on your own, "which is why we are stopping tonight."
Your excitment was short-lived as your face fell.
"I want our first time to be special. I want to do this right by you. You deserve that. You deserve everything, y/n, and I have every intention of giving you that and more."
Despite your need for him, your heart soared at his words, at the tenderness of them. Tears welled in your eyes as you took everything in.
You wanted him, and he you. This male that brought you more happiness than you'd ever known, who accepted you for you and who judged none of it. He was a brilliantly kind and caring male, of which you wanted to spend your life with.
Fully, this time.
Nodding, you kissed him, this time the action holding nothing but love as the two of you shed your clothing.
Eris pulled you beneath the covers where you cuddled into his side, soaking up his warmth and scent. As your eyes began to shut, you realized that this was the start of something entirely new, a new chapter of your life, and one that you couldn't wait to live.
Your breathing had just evened out when you heard it, his muffled and soft voice atop your head, his words ghosting the kiss he left.
"I love you, y/n."
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leafsandstarlight · 9 months
Text
Destiny's Battleground - Eris x Reader
Request: Hi! Can you write a story where Eris finds his mate on the battlefield? Thank you! Description: When the bond snaps for Eris during the battle against Hybern, he realizes that he would do just about anything for her. Warnings: depictions of a battle, mentions of blood and gore, mentions of past childhood trauma and abuse Author notes: This was so fun to write! Thank you so much for the request! I'm planning to write a part 2 for this piece/maybe turn it into a series :)
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The battlefield was packed with bodies, the scent of blood and sweat filling your nose.  You could feel your own sweat trickling down your limbs under your armor as you swung your blades at the closest Hybern soldier.  At least you hoped it was sweat rather than blood from one of your scrapes and gashes.
Out of your peripheral vision, you saw a soldier lunge towards you, his blade shimmering in the sunlight.  You dodged quickly before slicing him with one of your twin blades.  It was a move Cassian had taught you in the training ring.  One you had perfected over the decades you had been working and training in Velaris.
You had been born in Hewn City, the daughter to one of Kier’s closest advisors.  You had grown up amidst the leeches and brutes of the Court of Nightmares, treated as little more than a pawn in their wicked games.  Growing up, there was little joy in your life, little comfort.  Your family was cruel, and you hated witnessing the violence and lechery of your home city.  The only light in your childhood came from a certain blonde friend with whom you could always share a smile or a hidden laugh.  You and Mor grew up together.  You were quick friends - both of you realizing that the other shared your desire to get out of the Court of Nightmares, to be more than a pawn in your parents’ games. 
When Mor was tortured and left to bleed out in the Autumn Court, you had never experienced such rage, such loss.  You had screamed at your father and at Kier calling them both disgusting pigs and earning your own brutal punishment.  A part of you, though, was just happy Mor got out.  You hoped that whatever awaited her outside of Hewn City was better, kinder.
When Rhysand became High Lord and Mor had settled into her life in Velaris, she came for you.  She helped you escape the life your father had planned for you in Hewn City, and Rhys took you in.  Together, you and Mor started a new life away from the horrors of your childhoods.
You poured your rage and pain from your childhood into training with Cassian and Azriel.  Cassian taught you how to protect yourself.  He taught you how to wield your blades so that you never had to fear being at the whim of powerful males again.  Azriel taught you how to hide in the shadows, how to go unnoticed and unbothered in the world.  Along with your friendship with Mor, they helped you build a life for yourself.  They helped you start to become whole.
You became a spy for the Night Court under Azriel.  Living in Velaris had saved you, and you decided that you would do whatever it took to help protect it; to help protect the dreamers.  Azriel would position you in various courts, have you woo and manipulate various lords and courtiers to gather information.  You forged yourself into what you had been so desperate to be as a child in Hewn city: powerful.  You were a lethal seductress with an alluring figure, friendly eyes, and a lethal tongue. 
As you stood amongst the battlefield, dodging between Hybern soldiers’ attacks and using your blades to strike down opponents, you were grateful for your years of training and sparring.  You were lucky you had survived this long, especially given the way Hybern’s forces vastly outnumbered your own.  When you heard the Autumn Court arrive with Tamlin followed by the Seraphim and humans, you breathed a momentary sigh of relief.  Perhaps, you thought.  Perhaps, you really could win this thing.  The brief second of optimism was gone before you could even enjoy it as the blade of another Hybern soldier swung towards your core.  You dove to the ground to miss the strike, slicing the soldier’s legs as you fell.  You avoided contacted with his blade as you struck him down. 
Covered in dirt and blood, you continued fighting your way through soldiers as adrenaline coursed through your veins.  You were lost in the battlefield, surrounded by Illyrians and Hybern soldiers.  You could barely tell which was up and which way was down. 
You didn’t see the blade that finally struck you, seeping through your armor and into your side.  All you heard was a loud growl as you felt the blade rip through you.  As you fell to your knees, you felt the soldier rip the sword out, tearing your skin and muscle with it.  You could barely hear the battle cries as you felt your side warm with blood, as you felt your side pulse in excruciating pain. 
You tried to stand, willed your body to push forward and continue your fight.  You leaned on your blades, trying to gather yourself to no avail.  Your body fought you; each movement made you delirious with burning pain.
Your vision faded, the battle around you became nothing more than a blur before your world turned black.
Eris’s POV:
When Eris arrived at the battle with Autumn’s forced behind him, he felt the rush of battle course through his veins.  He surveyed the battle ensuing, the way Hybern’s soldiers slaughtered their way through Prythian’s allied forces and prayed to the Mother that he was not too late.  He cursed his stubborn father as he gave his soldiers the signal to attack, a deep growl that acted as their war cry. 
As they met the Hybern soldiers that awaited them, Eris fought and burned any enemy who stood in his way.  He used his flames to push them back, to strike them down.
As he fought, as he channeled his never-ending rage towards the soldiers who tried to force Prythian to its knees, he felt something deep inside him pulling him towards the center of the battle.  He couldn’t name the feeling, couldn’t identify what it was that wanted him to find his way through the battle so desperately.  It was like an invisible string luring him towards something he couldn’t identify.  He tried to shrug it off, ignore the feeling, as he fought, but it called to him in the sweetest, most alluring voice he had ever heard.  Eris swept the auburn hair that had fallen in his eyes off of his face as he pushed towards whatever called him.
Eris burnt his way through the battlefield, cutting down anyone who tried to get in his way.  When he felt the force strengthen and become almost tangible, he stopped and closed his amber eyes.  Eris winnowed, allowing the Mother to take him wherever she was trying to lead him, hoping she would bring him to wherever he needed to be.
When he opened his eyes again, Eris was standing before you as he watched a Hybern soldier push his blade through your skin.  He heard you call out in pain, the most heartbreaking sound he had ever heard, and felt the bond snap inside of him.  As you fell to the ground, Eris acted on instinct, motivated purely by the drive in his soul telling to protect his mate.  He butchered the Hybern soldier, barely aware of his own movements.  When he finished with that soldier, he let out a ring of lethal fire that burned any of the unfortunate Hubert soldiers who were standing within fifty yards of your fallen body.  When he was done, when his instincts faded slightly and he could finally catch his breath, his eyes found your broken, bleeding body. 
Eris pulled you into his arms, holding you close to his chest, as he cursed the Mother for not allowing him to find you sooner.  He cursed her for not letting him find you before that sword was in your side; for not letting him meet you in a safer place, a kinder world.  Although, his curses were halfhearted at best.  He couldn’t help but be grateful that he got to see you at all.  Even covered in mud and blood, you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.  If he only got to enjoy this one single moment with you as you bled out in his arms, he would cherish it.  He would hold the memory in his heart forever.
Eris shook the thoughts out of his mind.  No, he growled internally, you will not die today.  You don’t get to die before I’ve even gotten to meet you. 
He hauled you off the battlefield, winnowing into the healer’s tent and shouting at the first healer he saw to help you.  As a healer rushed to attention, motioning for him to place you on a cot in front of her, Eris hoped his voice didn’t show his complete and utter desperation.  Even as you lay there unconscious, he couldn’t help but be wholly and unconditionally devastated by you.
Reader’s POV:
When you awoke and the world slowly shifted into view, you had to shield your eyes from the bright fae lights of the tent you were in.  You looked around slowly, trying to piece together where you were, what had happened.  You recognized the walls of the healer tent and wondered how you had gotten there.  You vaguely remembered a growl, a bright light, and being carried through the battle, but none of your memories made sense to your muddled brain.
“You’re awake,” a voice called out to you.  It was soft, silky, almost like satin against your ears.  You looked around, your eyes searching for the voice that called to you through your delirium. 
When you found Eris’s sharp features and amber eyes staring back at you, your body tensed in shock.  You recognized him instantly.  His auburn hair was tousled and matted with blood while his armor was covered in blood that almost matched his hair.  He was the male who had caused you friend such pain.  He had left her to bleed out with a nail in her womb.  You had promised yourself long ago that if you ever had a chance to get close to Eris, if he ever appeared in front of you, you would send a blade through his warm freckled skin.  You wouldn’t kill him, of course, that kill was Mor’s if she ever wanted it.  But you would make him pay for what he did to her, for the pain he caused.  It was likely why Azriel never stationed you in the Autumn Court. 
And yet, here he was in front of you.  He was the only one in the healer tent with you, leaning against the tent wall with his arms crossed casually.  If you hadn’t just had a blade through your torso, you might’ve lunged at him. 
Perhaps he saw it on your face.  “I mean you no harm,” Eris told you with a faint smirk as though the idea was humorous to him.  You could tell by his eyes, however, that he was deadly serious.
“You bring nothing but harm,” you grumbled at the male in front of you, as you pulled yourself up into a sitting position on the cot, wincing in pain as you did so. 
He took a step towards you as though he might help you up before standing down at the glare you sent in his direction.  Amusement colored his sharp features.
You were grateful when the healer entered the tent at that moment, thankful to have another fae in the tent with you.  Eris never took his eyes off you as you turned your attention to the healer.
“What happened?” You asked, and the healer gave you a gentle smile.
“You received a pretty nasty wound to stomach and likely passed out due to the blood loss,” the healer told you, her voice gentle like the passing of a summer breeze, “You were very lucky that Eris brought you to us before you lost any more blood.”
Your eyes widened at her words and their implication.  Why would Eris have brought you here?  You didn’t even know each other, why would he care whether you lived or died?  Your mind was spinning as you looked over at Eris to find him watching you intently.  His attention caused a shiver to run up your spine.
“I’m surprised you saved me, I’ve heard you have a knack for letting females bleed out in front of you,” you snarl at Eris, your voice still quiet as you recovered your energy, but containing enough viciousness to get your point across.
Eris’s face shifted slightly, as though you suddenly made sense to him.  “Ah, a friend of Morrigan’s I take it?” You nod, trying to convey all the malice you had for him through your eyes.
“Don’t you think a little gratitude is in order, darling?” Eris asked, and his features morphed into a feline smirk.  You wanted to shake it off him, or perhaps smack it off him.  If you had your full energy, you likely would have tried.
Instead, you roll your eyes at him before giving him your own smirk.
“You’re right, Eris.  Some gratitude is in order,” you say, your voice dripping with malice as you turn towards the healer, “Thank you very much for healing me.  Your time and effort are greatly appreciated.”
The healer gave you a warm smile and bowed her head to you.  Eris merely scoffed at your response, clearly believing he deserved some of your gratitude.
He stared at you silently and you stared back, a challenge, as the healer looked over your newly healed wound.
“Looks as good as new,” the healer told you both, though you didn’t know why she thought Eris would care.  “You will likely feel a little woozy and tired given how much blood you lost, but you should be completely fine after a good night’s rest.”  You nodded your head at the healer with a smile, truly grateful that she saved your life, as she left the tent and left you alone with the prowling fox in front of you.  
As soon as the healer left, you turn your attention back to Eris whose eyes were burning into your body, “Why the hel did you save me, Eris?  What is your game?”  Your voice was cold, hushed, but you desperately wanted to know.  You didn’t even remember seeing him near you when you were injured. 
His warm amber eyes surveyed your face.  You could see specks of brown and red in them.  On another face, you might’ve thought they were lovely.
“I suppose for now I will keep my motives to myself,” Eris told you with a soft smirk on his face as he reached down and tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear.  It was a gentle touch, and yet it set you on fire.  You couldn’t help how bothered he made you, how the simplest look or touch seemed to aggravate all of your senses.  You blamed it on your centuries-long hatred.
Without another word, Eris winnowed away, leaving you in the healer’s test to question his motives and what he could possibly want from you.
Eris’s POV:
As Eris watched the healer’s work on your unconscious body, he tried to stand still, to relax.  He hadn’t felt this unsettled, this fearful, in a long time.  Perhaps since his brothers were sent to kill Lucien.  Here you were, a female he had never met, and yet he would have done anything to ensure that you opened your eyes, that you lived to see another day.
When the healer’s actions made you whimper and grimace in pain, a growl left Eris’s throat involuntarily.  The healer gave him an apologetic look, likely understanding exactly what his territorial nature meant.  Eris hated being so transparent, hated having his feelings on display.  He had spent centuries learning how to hide how he felt from his father and his brothers, and yet here he was growling at a healer over a female he didn’t know.  He sighed, trying to unclench the hands he was unconsciously balling into tight fists.
When your eyes finally opened and you blinked lazily at the world around you, trying to piece together what had occurred, he felt a wave of relief, of gratitude flow through him.  There you were – his perfect mate.  You were more beautiful than he could have ever imagined.  Not that he had ever dared to imagine being blessed with a mate; for both his sake and the sake of whatever poor female was tied to him for the rest of her life.
When Eris saw the way you looked at him, the unbridled rage and disgust, he knew exactly what you were thinking.  He had known you were from the Night Court due to your armor and blades, but only a true friend of Morrigan would feel so strongly towards him.  He longed desperately that he could tell you his side of the story in that moment, that he could make you understand that he had only wished to help Mor, but he knew what it was like to have someone you love hurt by another.  Eris knew what it was like to feel that rage; that distrust. 
Someday, perhaps, he would be able to show you who he truly was.  Someday, when his father was dead, he could remember what it was like to be vulnerable again, to drop the cruel mask he had adopted long ago.  Maybe someday, you might even come to care for him.  But for now, he wouldn’t force it.  For now, he would let you live in the world thinking he was a monster; let you hate him.  If for no other reason than to ensure you were safe from his father.
For now, he would find some way to be okay with the way you were looking at him with all your anger and distrust because at least you had your eyes on him.  For now, that would be enough.
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theostrophywife · 10 months
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here in your arms.
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author's note: couldn't resist writing for my little foxy boy. this is the twin to this request.
eris preferred to sleep alone.
at least, he used to. when it came to his bedchambers, the autumn court heir abided by one simple rule: he could invite whomever he pleased to bed, but they were not to overstay their welcome by any means. it was a good rule and one that he had upheld for centuries. until you came along.
eris wasn’t even sure how it happened. the most likely scenario was that the two of you had stumbled into his bed after a night of drinking and debauchery, taunting and teasing one another as you were wont to do. you were the one person at court whose sarcasm rivaled his own. ever since you where children, you had kept eris on his toes with your sharp wit and fiery personality. you challenged him and though he'd never admit it, the future high lord was absolutely soft for you.
perhaps that was why he hadn’t objected when you had fallen asleep on his bed, blankets greedily wrapped around you while you cuddled with his favorite pillow. you looked so serene laying there, still dressed in your ridiculous ball gown with your hair loose and unbound, fanning around you like a waterfall and framing that beautiful face eris had come to memorize.
he had simply crawled in beside you, his eyes heavy from the alcohol and his thoughts flowing like honey. the last thing he remembered was your hand reaching for his, weaving your fingers together.
the autumn court heir convinced himself that it would only be that one exception, but then he laid in bed the next night, tossing and turning. unable to sleep without the warmth of your body next to his or the soft breaths that lulled him into sweet dreams or the way that you reached for him even when you were unconscious.
he thought he could will it away. eris had survived centuries sleeping alone, so there was no reason for him to suddenly crave a bedside companion. he didn't need anyone to cuddle with. night after night, that's what he told himself. until two days passed, then three. finally after an entire week of fitful sleep, eris admitted the plain, ugly truth to himself.
you had utterly and completely ruined the male.
so he pushed aside all of his pride and walked to the other end of the forest house where your bedchambers were located. you had opened the door to find the rumpled, weary redhead glaring at you with accusation.
"what have you done to me, woman?"
you yawned, pulling your robe on tightly. "i have various schemes and plots against you at the moment, so you'll have to be more specific than that, pumpkin."
eris sighed exasperatedly and marched right into your suite. you shut the door behind him, watching with an amused smile as your friend paced in front of the hearth. "yes, eris why don't you come on in. it's not like you were interrupting my sleep or anything. of course, midnight is a perfectly reasonable time to drop in unannounced."
the eldest vanserra rolled his eyes. "i can't sleep!" he whirled around, folding his arms in a regal, yet disdainful way. "and it's your fault. it's been an entire week and i cannot take it any longer."
"and how, pray tell, is your sudden bout of insomnia my doing?"
"because," eris stated matter-of-factly, "ever since that night that you fell asleep in my bed, i haven't been able to get your damned lily soap scent out of my sheets. my room is too quiet without your obnoxious little snores and my legs are perpetually warm without you pressing those frozen icicles you call feet against them."
"let me get this straight," you said with a snort. "you marched all the way across the forest house, just to insult my soap, my snoring, and my cold feet."
"as future high lord, i am allowed to voice my displeasure with court subjects."
"as your loyal subject, i am also allowed to tell you to kindly fuck off."
eris bit back a smile. "i'm being serious, y/n. i cannot lose any more of my beauty sleep. it is absolutely maddening."
you rolled your eyes. "then stop being an insufferable twat and sleep with me."
the redhaired male opened his mouth for another snarky retort, but you merely tugged him towards the bed. you peeled back the covers and gestured for eris to make himself comfortable. he did so, albeit looking a bit peaked as you slipped in beside him.
“oh, you look positively virginal eris.” you said with a chuckle. “fret not pumpkin, i have no plans on ravishing you. now come cuddle before i come to my senses and send your sorry arse back.”
eris scrunched his nose in feigned annoyance. “you’re such a bossy little fox. you are aware that you’re speaking to the heir of the autumn court with such insolence, aren’t you?”
you tugged him to you, pinching his cheek as he laid against your chest. “i wouldn’t have to resort to insults if the big, bad future high lord had the balls to simply ask for what he wanted.”
“and what do i want?” eris asked, shifting to face you as you ran your fingers through his luscious hair.
“to be babied,” you declared. “admit it, pumpkin. you just want someone to play with your hair and cuddle you at night and give you all the kisses.”
“you’re wrong,” eris declared, his lids fluttering shut as you snuggled against him. “i don’t want just someone. i want you, little fox.”
you smiled. “well, i’m already playing with your hair and cuddling you so all that’s left is —“
eris took your face in his hands and pulled you down to him. his lips were velvet against yours, playful and teasing just like the male you were kissing. butterflies erupted in your stomach as eris clutched you closer, his breath warm against your cheek as he deepened the kiss, filling you with the taste of freshly picked apples and rich cinnamon with a hint of mint toothpaste. eris pulled away reluctantly, pressing his forehead against yours.
amber eyes full of heat pierced through you as you smirked. “it took you damn well long enough.”
eris rolled his eyes fondly before pulling you against his chest. “you absolute menace,” he said, kissing the top of your head. “you’ve finally pierced my wretched heart. it feels as horrifying as i imagined.”
you buried your face against his neck, smiling against his skin. “good night, you insufferable drama queen.”
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readychilledwine · 6 months
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can i please request an eris x reader where she has trouble sleeping so he helps her dooze off by putting her in his lap and cockwarms her whilst he does his reports🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️
My Simping Eris Heart could never deny this 🥵
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Lapcat
Warnings - NSFW minors DNI, owner/pet play dynamics, free use is mentioned, kind of leads to Somno vibes?
🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁
You rolled in the soft silk sheets again, trying to find any warmth you could on the cold Autumn night.
You loved the Forest House, truly you did, but at times, Beron allowed the weather shield to drop to cool his heat filled below ground rooms. You and Eris had always opted for a room above ground, wanting to see the trees, smell the fresh air instead of the lingering damp soil. This was a consequence of that choice, mainly since being a daughter of the Summer Court, you had no fire magic. 
You pulled Eris's pillow closer to you, breathing in his scent and shutting your eyes. Maybe if you closed your eyes hard enough, the need for sleep would take over. A soft tug came down the bond, an invitation to join him in his office. 
You got out of the bed, wrapping a sheet around your naked frame before wandering down the hall and into the luxurious space your mate had spent most of the night.
Eris was hunched over the desk, his long red hair cascading in waves over his shoulder as he finished whatever paper he was on. You couldn't help but to bite your lip at the way his brow was creased, his hand slightly clenched, the muscles in his arms and shoulders rippling. "Hello, kitten," he greeted you without looking up. "Can't sleep?"
"It's too cold," you shivered as you answered him, moving as he turned the chair and spread his legs for you to stand between them. "Miss you."
Eris's lips twitched into a soft smile as he studied you and brought his hands to your hips to bring you closer. "I miss you too, kitten. Want me to warm you up?" 
It was his tone, the coy smirk, and way his hands squeezed the soft flesh of your ass that had heat pooling in between your legs and your stomach tightening into knots. 
His hand gently tugged the sheet, growling as it danced off of you and onto the floor in a flowing pool. He began to roam your body. Fingers brushing each curve, every delicate dip of your flesh
Eris began placing soft kisses along your ribcage as his hands worked on kneading your breasts. "So beautiful, y/n." You head fell back at the praise, a soft sigh leaving your throat as his warm hands left goosebumps in every inch of skin they touched. "Need you on my cock, baby." 
It never took you long to be ready for Eris. The male would simply look at you and your panties were soaked. You nodded eagerly, stepping back thinking he'd be bending you over the mahogany desk and fucking you into oblivion. 
He didn't though.
He stood leisurely, taking his time with each button his shirt before putting in on you and leaving it open, smirking at the slight of you in his clothing. He then sat again, hands undoing his leathers until he freed his hard leaking cock from the confines of his pants. He motioned you over with two fingers before pulling you into his lap, hovering above his cock. "I need you. I desperately need you, but I have to finish my paperwork and reports, okay kitten?" You whimpered, tears beginning to form in your eyes. "No pouting, princess." His cock ran through your folds, gathering wetness. He allowed the head to smack against your clit pulling a moan from you. "We'll still both get what we want."
He lined up with your core and pushed your plush hips down slowly, watching intently as you swallowed him inch by inch.
The stretch burned, igniting your body in pleasure and heat as your head fell back again and you started panting. He groaned loudly, his eyes fluttering shut against his high cheekbones once he was fully seated inside of you. You went to hook your legs over his knees, aching for better leverage to ride him with, and he tutted you gently. 
Eris pulled you into his warm chest, tucking your head against his neck and kissing your temple. "Stay right here while I finish working, kitten. Then you can ride me until dawn breaks."
Your core twitched on his cock on occasion causing him to shift and give you a soft thrust that was never enough. You took a few deep breaths, calming your heart as he began working again. 
The soft scratch of the pen on parchment, the warmth of his body, the feeling of fullness as his hard cock rested in your wet pussy, and the scent of warm apples and bonfire embers had your mind falling into a safe place. One you had been previously searching for in the bed you two shared. 
Eris placed another soft kiss on the side of your head. "That's it, kitten. Get some good rest for me so I can keep you up later." Your eyes shut slowly against his neck as you snuggled further into him leading to him pushing his cock back in further. "Doing so good, princess. Such a pretty little lap Cat warming my cock while I work."
Your breath fell into soft pants on his neck and cheek, causing Eris to smirk. He had purposely put the fire in your room out hoping this would happen, and now, only 20 reports stood between him and fucking you while you slept, a favorite free use habit you two had started enjoying together. 
The only question he had, as your core twitched and soft moans and pleas began to fall from your lips from the dreams he knew you were having was this, did the heir truly have enough self control to finish his work first?
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honeybeefae · 6 months
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Past and Present (Eris Vanserra x Reader)
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Eris Week Day One: Family
Summary// As you prepare to birth your first child, Eris is taken back to when his mother went into labor with Lucien, especially as the same problem seems to arise. When you reach out your hand for him to stay, will he take it or will he be just like his father?
(The first fic of Eris week is here and I hope you guys love it so much!! It is pretty emotional and shows a softer, tormented side of Eris that I feel we definitely need to see more of in the books!)
@erisweek2023
WARNINGS: Childbirth, Trauma, PTSD, Blood
The contractions were coming in waves as Eris watched you hold onto one of the banisters of the bed, your entire body covered in sweat as you let out another scream of pain. You had been in labor since last night and now that the sun was setting once more, everyone was growing concerned about you and the baby.
“My lord,” One of the healers pulled him aside as your back arched, hand flying to your belly. “My lord, the baby…”
“What about the baby? What is wrong?” He snapped, his nerves on edge as the healer fumbled over his words. “Spit it out. What is wrong?”
“The baby is breech, my lord. He is coming feet first.” The healer explained quickly, dabbing a cloth across his face as Eris glared at him. “We need you to make a decision.”
“It is not his decision to make, it is mine.” You gritted out through your teeth, rocking back and forth as your body began to try and push your child out. The doctor warned you to stop but you couldn’t fight it, every muscle in your abdomen tightening as you looked at your mate, frightened. “Eris, please.”
“Are you asking me to decide between my mate and my child?” Eris whispered, face pale as the healer nodded. As another scream tore from your throat he was suddenly pulled back into a long-forgotten memory, his hands shaking as your body was transformed into his mother's.
“We need to get the High Lord. He has to decide.” The healer mumbled to his assistant as the Lady of Autumn laid on her back, legs spread while guttaral screams tore from her throat. “Hurry, there is no time.”
The healer left the room, poking his head out, only to find a young Eris waiting across the doorway. He immediately stood and walked to the door, palms sweaty. “What is it? Has she given birth?”
“We need your father.” The healer began, voice nervous. “There are complications that-”
Eris jumped when he heard his mother screech in pain, his eyebrows furrowing as he shook his head and tried to get into the room. “My father has left to hunt as he always does. He is not here. What decision needs to be made? Why is my mother not making it?”
“Tradition stands that your father needs to be the one to make the call. How soon can you fetch him?” The assistant pressed, turning when he heard his master calling his name in urgency. “Hurry! The baby is coming!”
“It would take hours. Please, tell me, what is happening?” Eris pleaded, his voice shaking as the assistant looked around for anyone else before sighing and allowing the young man inside. “Mother!”
“Eris,” The Lady of Autumn moaned, her clammy hand reaching out as her body urged her to push. “Eris, the baby…something is wrong-”
“The baby is breech. If it comes down to it, who would your father want to be saved?” The healer bluntly asked, blood staining his hands and forearms. “Who?”
“Should this not be up to my mother? Is this not her body?” Eris asked angrily, holding onto his mother tightly. “It is her decision. Mother, what do you want?”
“It is not-” The healer began but before he could finish the sentence Eris had flames circling his neck, not hot enough to burn but enough to let the man know he had no hesitation in ending his life.
“Do whatever she wants or you will regret it.” Eris threatened, turning to his mom who was watching him with fascination. “Hang on for me. You are so strong.”
She opened her mouth to respond but before she could reply, her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she went limp. Eris started shaking her, screaming her name, but she wouldn’t wake up. 
The healer jumped into action while the doors flew open, Beron standing in the doorway in his hunting gear as he asked gruffly, “Well? What is it?” 
“The babe has not been born yet, my lord. She is having complications and-” The assistant tried to explain but Eris cut him off, slamming his hand on the bed as he looked at his father.
“She is unresponsive. She is losing too much blood.” He spat through his teeth, turning her face towards him in worry. “She’s not going to make it if they don’t get it out of her.”
Beron took a deep breath, watching the flurry of moments of everyone in the room with disinterest, before turning and walking out the door and down the hall. Despite the chaos going on around him all Eris could hear was his father’s footsteps as he walked away from his mother, leaving her to die without a second thought.
As the healer and assistant were finally able to save his mother and deliver the baby, “Lucien” his mother had whispered when she finally came to, Eris swore that he would never, ever become his father. 
“My lord?” The healer repeated, Eris blinking rapidly as he was brought back to the present. He turned to look at you, at your large, round belly, and finally at the blood that was dripping onto the floor as you squatted down and wailed. 
“You will save both of them or I will have your head. Do you understand?” Eris said quietly, his voice dripping with venom as the man’s face paled and he swallowed thickly. He didn’t wait for a reply before rushing to your side and cupping your face, pressing your forehead against his own as he closed his eyes and breathed.
“I know you’re scared and I know you’re tired, my love. You have been so strong and I just need you to hold on a little longer, okay?” Eris cooed into your ear, wincing as you gripped painfully on his upper arm as the healer instructed you to finally push. “You are an amazing woman and although our child seems to have my stubbornness, I know everything will be alright.”
“Do you promise?” You pleaded, cheeks puffing out as you prepared to push again. “Do you promise everything will be okay?”
“I promise.” He nodded, kissing your cheek before taking your hand and looking to the doctor. “Now push.”
\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
“Twins,” You whispered incredosouly as you held them both in your arms, the pillows soft against your back while you rested for the first time in days. “I can’t believe we had twins.”
“We still have to name them…” Eris smiled as he crawled in beside you, careful not to jostle the bed too much as he rested his cheek on the top of your head. 
“I’ve already named them.” You smiled sheepishly, turning to the gaze at their sleeping faces. “Say hello to Sienna and Arista.”
“Sienna and Arista,” He hummed, pretending to be in deep thought while you rolled your eyes. “I love it. I love you.”
“I love you too.” You said softly, turning your face to kiss him and basking in the safe haven of your family of four. Eris wrapped his arms around the three of you, squeezing you for a moment before bending down to kiss each of their heads.
“I love you all too.” 
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historiaxvanserra · 25 days
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These Violent Delights | Chapter Two
Summary: A High Lords meeting goes awry and you find yourself thrust into the foxes den.
Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Archeron!Reader (brief mentions of Azriel x reader)
Word Count: 6.4k
This is the long awaited second part to a story which was previously named If I can't have love, I want power which was originally a one-shot but I have decided to turn it into a series. It is now listed as Chapter 1 of These Violent Delights on my Masterlist.
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The Hewn City’s state rooms are ugly, you think as you stalk the emissary of the Night Court through the winding, narrow corridors of Hewn City. The palatial chambers had been carved into the dark stone of the mountain by the Gods of old; and the high, domed ceilings are held in place by onyx pillars decorated with twisted carvings of beasts and fornicating demi-gods that line the Gothic archways.
Lurid, ill-fated omens, you think. 
Harbingers of your undoing. 
The emissary appointed with escorting you is adorned in ceremonial robes; a fine damask tunic in a deep indigo silk that is almost iridescent in the artificial light. You fall into step with him as he approaches a set of gilded iron gates. Two armored sentries fall into rank as you cross the threshold of the council chambers and you offer a courteous nod to the sentry as he meets your eye.
The antechamber of The Moonstone Palace is plunged in a suffocating blue-darkness with only the silvers of silver faelight, like artificial stars, to light the faces of the High Lords. The atmosphere is oppressive and the smell of hemlock and moonflowers stain the stagnant air. For a few moments, while you’re lost in thought, the world is silent and still. Feigning peace. But there is no peace. Not here, where the eyes of every High Lord in Prythian are upon you. 
Hewn City is a dark mirage. A metropolis of hedonistic desire and vulgar frivolity
It is here in the dark that you find yourself adrift; lost somewhere to the sea of time. You abandon yourself to the tide of memory. The happy recollections of your childhood; to the thought of home. Someplace far from here, where the sunlight touches your skin and the smell of salt from the coast becomes tangled in your unbound hair. Somewhere, in the recesses of your mind, where you know your mothers love and your fathers face is something more than a mere memory. 
It occurs to you that this is a home that never existed.
Home had always been burning; the acrid smell of woodsmoke beckons you like a funeral pyre and your salt-cracked lips chafe and bleed in the wake of blistering winds from the violent sea. And that’s the thing about mothers, you and she exist as some wretched mirror or one another; as hatred and guilt. 
You’ve been thinking of your mother a lot as of late; something in your dreams, the echoing of a coming storm. A fine line between love and hate. It is something strange and prophetic that makes your skin crawl uncomfortably from your body.
In a flurry of movement against the black you are brought back to the present as you take your place amongst the ranks of the Inner Circle. 
The silhouettes of the other High Lords, that had been flickering wildly against the dark stone of the mountain, cease to move. Cease to be, as shadows envelop the room, melting into the darkness as Rhysand glides into the room his violet eyes glinting in the dark. His eyes shine with a cold violence that draws you from thought and the visions of a home long forgotten turn to ashes in your trembling hands. He’s dressed all in black and violet, his tan skin looks pallid in the low light. By his side Feyre’s skin looks as though it is wreathed in starlight against the backdrop of the twilight-- you catch the scent of chamomile and moondust in the air. 
It smells like Nyx you think, smiling lightly to yourself at the thought of your nephew.
A tremor of dark power ripples through the air and you feel the shift in the atmosphere when shield after shield locks into place around each High Lord and his retinue of courtiers. The shield that Rhysand had already placed around the Inner Circle; made stronger in response. Night magic glitters in the air like stardust and you swear you can taste it on your tongue. That same cold rage and an essence of icy violence fortifies you against the hostility in the room and you school your expression to remain neutral when you seek out a pair of strange amber eyes in the crowd. 
A gentle warmth burns though your chest and your eyes scan the crowd. 
Eris Vanserra moves like a predator; resolute and obstinate. Amber eyes burn like fire glow in the dim light and each of his long strides are punctuated by the echo of boot clad feet on the marble. In this light, his face is almost ethereal. Unearthly even. Set in a painfully neutral expression as he slinks through the halls of the city below the mountains of Velaris. Eris Vanserra burns bright against the other Lords of Pryhtian; his copper hair, like burnished gold in the dim lights, and his eyes. Those fucking eyes. Haunting and evocative as he meets your gaze with a feline smirk. 
It is a wicked, false thing, that glitters with malice.
  He watches you with a wrathful sort of reverence. He is so very lovely, even in the pallid light. Even as his father and brothers flank his sides like a pack of hungry foxes; hungry and baying for blood.  
You watch him carefully as Eris takes his seat at the foot of the large black table, he’s careful to make a show of the way he languidly reclines in his chair, rolling his shoulders back and angling his hips in such a way that the whole room is displayed to him at once.
It’s almost voyeuristic in nature.
That summons a storm within you; a violent, lonely, sort of thing, that washes over him with the force of a raging tempest down the scarcely accepted bond and his eyes, glittering and amber in the dying light, finding yours again. For a moment, Eris Vanserra sees himself through your eyes; for the first time in centuries he doesn’t hate the man staring back at him. 
By his side Eris’ mother’s skin looks as though it is wreathed in fireglow against the backdrop of the twilight-- you catch her dark glassy eyes and she smiles softly at you. There is a deep sorrow there, in the depths of The Lady of Autumn's eyes, that feel kindred to you. 
A  shared pain, perhaps.
Turning as Rhysand and Feyre push further into the darkness of the antechamber, you are drawn from thought once more.
The rest of The Night Court look like some savage celestial army as they enter on a night-kissed breeze. Cassian and Nesta look like warriors hardened by war and ruin, all dressed in black and faces coloured with cold caution. They’re followed by the Shadowsinger, who is shrouded in dark wisps of shadow and his skin glows golden against the dark. His face is set in an unreadable expression, though, when your eyes meet a flash of recognition flashes in those hazel eyes.
Rhysand stops dead in his tracks when he regards the High Lord of Autumn.
Beron Vanserra; cruel and tyrannical, keens when he notes the flash of surprise in Rhysand’s violet gaze. His eyes simmer with a dim fire as his eyes land on you. Beron’s teeth are like crow-picked bones as he offers you a feral smile. 
“We weren’t expecting you, Beron.” Feyre’s voice is distant and cold as she speaks to the High Lord and his sons. 
Rhysand rises to his feet from his throne, waving his hand to the attendants, “Fetch the High Lord and his Lady a seat.”
The attendant presents Beron with a chair and he settles between Helion and the Lady of Autumn, neither Helion nor the lady seem to acknowledge each other but you can feel the shift in their demeanors as Beron’s ire sparks in his eyes. He doesn’t even spare The Lady of Autumn a glance before he moves on to inspecting his fellow High Lords. 
You pay Beron no heed and instead your eyes find the Lady of Autumn as she settles into her seat beside her husband and eldest son. The Lady of Autumn is like one of Feyre’s paintings; arresting and darkly beautiful. Her romantic eyes are shaded in the colors of sunset; a warm amber that looks almost golden in the low light and her dark auburn hair glitters in the dying fireglow and her eyes-- so rich that you get lost in their glassy depths. Those haunting eyes. They’re Eris’ eyes you realize as they meet yours. Though she doesn’t linger long she gives you a soft smile before returning her gaze to her long slender fingers that twitch in her lap. They’re adorned with many gold rings and crystals that she wears like armor to fortify her against the hostile atmosphere. 
You see something of yourself in her you think, looking down to your own attire. An opulent and finely boned corset, cinched so tight, that even breathing feels like a luxury and the heavy black damask that covers you in swathes of pleated fabric acts as barrier between yourself and the many eyes in the room that trail over you without care or warning. 
“Nor was I expecting to be here,” Beron drawls, “But alas, it seems we have business to discuss.” Beron’s fire rages dangerously against the black. Torrid and angry, his face unflinching and cruel as he turns his gaze upon Rhysand. Something treacherous passes between the two High Lords at that moment and something in your chest begins to stir like a storm inside of you.
A warning of a coming storm.
“Rumor claims that your allegiances are elsewhere, these days.” It is your voice that counters and Beron croons. The High Lord of Autumn assesses you keenly, his gaze shifting-- from the darkness of your eyes-- down. To the sulk of your lips. Further still to the exposed slope of your shoulders and coming to rest on your chest, where the swell of your breasts spills over the corseted bodice of your gown. His eyes darken luridly as his eyes meet yours again. Beron Vanserra scrutinizes every minute detail of your dark armor; every errant hair, every nervous twitch of your jaw, every flutter of your dark lashes.
It’s disarming the smile that spreads across his handsome face and his eyes shine with a maniacal sort of joy that sparks a wave of fury that runs through you like water-- and you swear you can feel Eris’ own fiery rage in answer. 
“And what would you know of my allegiances, girl?” The false smile he offered is soon replaced with a deep loathing in Beron’s eyes that practically burns through you. 
In a way, it feels strangely comforting to feel his ire. 
To feel anything at all that isn’t paralyzing dread or hirearth for a home to which you will never return. 
Helion waves a scar-flecked hand in front of him, “Let’s just get on with it, shall we?” 
The High Lord of Day glows with the radiance of the golden sun and he looks at you with such a strange mixture of boredom and curiosity that almost seems like reverence. He doesn’t dare look at The Autumn Lady in her seat though you notice the careful glances she makes towards him in those spaces between the seconds when no one is paying much heed.
“I know you met with rhe Prince of Rask.” you say and all the idle chatter in the room dies at once. “And he’s working with the Koschei, isn’t he?” 
Beron opens his mouth and you brace yourself for the torrid flames of his wrath. You see the violent delight dance across Beron’s eyes and Rhysand just holds his stare. Hold it with a face like icy death. And beneath the surface you see untempered wrath as it ripples beneath his carefully curated mask. A sharp pain in your chest has you seeking out Eris at his father’s side. His face is the picture of cataclysmic rage; writhing and burning in those eyes. 
To anyone else Eris Vanserra is the image of infernal rage. A righteous son to a wronged father. But to you-- all his fear comes home to you. 
A warning fire. 
“Never mind, we can discuss the happy news of your heir’s birth another time,” Beron smiles again at Rhysand and Feyre. It is Feyre who regards him with a snarling fury at the mention of the son she had almost died to bring into the world. 
She would give her life again if only to protect him from the clutches of a tyrant like Beron. Of that you were certain. 
“I believe we have business to discuss?” Beron questions again when no one responds to his taunt. 
All the eyes in the room turn to you when you loose a laugh, “I didn’t realize we were in the business of discussing plans with our enemies.” 
Eris Vanserra looks as though he might just vault over the table and silence you himself. His eyes smoulder in the dark and the scathing look he sends your way is enough to make you weak in the knees. 
“Make no mistake girl,” Beron muses, his eyes sparking with feral delight, “I am not your enemy,” 
“You are advised to keep it that way.”
In that moment you are bereft of every thought and sound in your mind as the room stills. 
Rhysand and Feyre falter and look between you and The High Lord of Autumn-- and his heir.
Your mate. 
Eris himself remains poised, his fingers wrapped around the arm of the chair, the wood straining under his cruel grip until his knuckles turn as pale as the sea foam that swirls atop the Sidra. 
It is the Shadowsinger who rises from his seat in response, “Threaten her again, old man-- I dare you.” Azriel’s voice wraps round you like cold death and you can’t help but stare impassively as he places his body between yours and Beron. The flicker of flame is smothered by Azriel’s darkness. 
Beron sits in his chair without so much as a word. Though you see the taunt in his eyes as he looks at you again. Azriel’s imposing figure still stands over you, a scarred hand that strokes languid circles into the skin of your shoulder. The bond in your chest hums violently. 
“Call off your dog, Rhysand.” Eris’ voice is dangerously low as he eyes Azriel. 
Rhys shrugs, smiling faintly “Very well,” he muses. 
Azriel takes his seat beside you, though his scarred fingers remain fixed on the arm of your chair. 
“Tell me, Azriel?” Eris laughs coldly, his voice devoid of any humor and he opens his mouth to speak, “Does it pain you knowing that both of your brothers have been given a sister as a mate?”
“And yet the Mother still deems you unworthy of a Mate -- desitined to pity fuck the spare sister.” Eris muses with a lilt of his voice when he realizes he has the upperhand. 
A twinge of heat in your chest from the bond makes your scowl deepen. 
Azriel blinks at first, his face twisting in rage before rising to his feet once more, barrelling over the table with an inhuman growl. Azriel grips Eris by the lapels of his emerald tunic. Coming together in flashes of flame and smoke as they struggle against one another. Eris swings a leg over Azriel’s thigh bringing them both tumbling to the floor, while the other High Lords watch on with varying degrees of amusement and frustration on their faces. 
Your face heats under the scrutiny. Unable to move or speak-- your stormy facade rendered useless as the tears begin to well in your eyes. 
You are a storm-- but in the face of their wrath there is naught you can do but watch and abide.
Rhysands commanding voice cuts through Azriel’s cursing and Eris’ insults. The room falls silent as the males pull away from one another. Azriel’s nose is bloodied and his hair falls around his face in messy strands. Eris’ lip is split, spilling crimson along the column of his throat. You trace the line of scarlet as the droplets stain the neckline of his white shirt. You can hear his heartbeat as it flutters wildly. His eyes meet yours and a look of resignation and shame crosses them for a moment; obscuring the perfect amber of his gaze. 
Azriel wipes his blood on his leathers; wears it like armor as he turns to Eris “Something to remember me by.” 
Azriel spits the words like venom at Eris whose face radiates with a dark and fiery wrath.
Feyre looks between the two males and then to you; her face softens then as she regards you. Your hands shaking wildly, and a heartbeat like an echoing war drum, the bond in your chest singing a mournful song as it rages inside you. 
You look utterly devastated. 
She’s not used to seeing that kind of defeat on the face of her elder sister; the sister who had weathered so much, always headstrong and ardent, who had suffered every injustice with a straight face-- she hadn’t quite prepared herself for the type of sorrow that realization would bring with it. 
Taking in the scene unfolding before you-- the descent into violence and the blood that pools like rubies at Eris Vanserra’s feet you loose a shaky breath. “Enough--enough” You wave your hands between Azriel and Eris. 
The males both take a tentative step away from one another and further from you. 
“Who shares my bed is of little concern, I assure you, My Lord,” You insist firstly, setting your shoulders straight and facing them now with all the stormy determination you can feign in that moment, “from what I’ve heard you yourself have quite curious bedfellows.” 
Beron sneers and scoffs from his seat at the foot of the table at the insult. A lie, at that. If anyone does share Eris Vanserra’s bed they are a mystery to you. 
“Preferring the company of hounds  - or so I am told.” Azriel adds.
And in truth you and Azriel haven’t so much as locked eyes since that night in Hewn City. After the mating bond between you and Eris had made its home in your chest you hadn’t been able to think about anyone or anything else. 
Just him. And those amber eyes.
“We are here because once more someone is threatening the tenuous peace we have established here,” Helion nods his head thoughtfully and Thesan, who had remained silent throughout the whole ordeal looks at you with genuine encouragement and utters his agreement. Kallias and Vivianne remain silent and imposing on the other side of the table.
“It is our duty-- our privilege-- to ensure Prythian and its people are not ravaged by war again.” You look to Kallias then, unimpressed by the needless violence that had passed but somehow enamored by your words.
“Hyburn took so much from us-- from all of us.” You say, gesturing around the table and the High Lord’s faces are all shaded in sympathy and regret for all they had lost, “and Amarantha made slaves of you all.”
You cast a glance to your sister; who had fought and died for these great men and their courts. And to Rhysand who had subjected himself to being her plaything. Something like grief flashes in those violet eyes that sparks a storm in you. 
“I will not be a slave again,” You vow and you notice then how all the High Lords seem rapt withal as you speak to them, and the storm inside you rages on, “to anyone.”
The tensions around the table seem to dissipate when Helion raises a chalice and smirks fondly at you and it seems that they see you as more than a bed warmer to a dark God or the mate of some High Lord’s heir. Talons scrape menacingly along your mental shields and Rhysand’s dark presence makes itself known to you. Bed warmer? Darling you are a storm-- everyone here knows it. 
A force to be reckoned with.
The rest of the meeting seems to come to pass as intended, laborious hours of negotiating and political games as you come to terms with each High Lord in turn. By the time the moon hangs in the sky like cut quartz, almost all of the High Lords have already departed, leaving only The High Lord of Spring and The Autumn Court’s entourage. 
“Where did you find this one, Rhysand?” Tamlin asks, his tone measured and light. 
Rhysand looks between Feyre and you smiling lightly, the corners of his mouth twitching as he opens his mouth to speak.
“I heard they found her in a Hyburn cell, after the war was over.” It is Beron Vanserra’s voice that cuts in, “what was left of her anyway.”
“Perhaps we should be asking where your loyalties lie?” It’s the middle Vanserra brother that speaks. His russet curls glow warm in the dim lights and his stare is cruel and malignant as he hones in on you. 
“Hyburn whore” It’s whispered, accusatory, on an inhale of breath. 
They way it is uttered with an air of repulsion and venom reminds you of those stories told in human villages; of woods women named ‘witch’ by those who do not understand. 
People fear what they do not understand. 
It seems that Fae are no different than mere mortals in that respect. 
“You’d be wise to bite your tongue, brother.” Eris’s voice is a cold echo as all thought and sound eddies out of your mind. Flashes of black and gold as the visions come back to you; those days spent cowering in the darkness of your cell, your feral anger directed at any man who came too close-- all biting fury, canines and claws, and the screams they tore from your like the howling wind over a violent sea.
A fury spreads through you, taking root in the dark caverns of your chest, slowing your heartbeat to a dull aching thud as you lose yourself to it; give yourself over to the tempest of emotion that courses through you. You try to fight it as the first ebbs of that dangerous storm embrace you. Lest you surrender yourself to the tempest; let it open you up and pour out into the world in floods of ravaging power. 
It brings forth a storm the likes of which the world has never seen; a thing of ugly rage.
You were born angry, your mother had told you once.
But rage is a learned thing. Your rage. It had been your mother’s first, before that it had her mothers, and her mother before her. 
It is an inherited curse; a wicked and wretched thing.
It is a storm enough to drown in. 
A howling wind whips around you and for a moment you are standing at a great precipice. From the cliff’s edge, peering down at a violent sea as it coils and breaks against the jagged cliff face of some distant shore, where the world looks as though it is dappled in fireglow, the smell of woodsmoke and bonfires wafts from inland. The sea-soaked wind is so palpable that you taste its salt-kiss on your lips with the ardent fervor of the most savage lover. 
There is something sacred in salt, you think.
For a moment you consider what it would feel like; to plummet into the watery abyss. How the sunlight would look as it fractures and splinters on the water's violent surface. 
How it might cascade into the murky green depths. A secret held between you and the sea.
“My Lady,” It is Eris’ voice, practically feral and dripping with an aching desperation as he all but vaults around the corner of the dark wood table, parting his brothers with a rehearsed type of brutality as he claws his way to you. His commanding aura draws you closer to him and his pale hand offers a strong and comforting weight on your arm as he takes your trembling palm in his rough hold.
“You’re bleeding,” Eris says, cupping your palm into a fist with his own, applying light pressure to the wound while he assesses it. Turning it over in his tentative grasp. Through your lashes you take a moment to assess him as he towers over you. He’s tall and much broader than you remember but he moves with an inhuman grace. His nose is long and straight and his jaw strong and regal. His amber eyes linger dangerously over the hand cupped in his own. You hadn’t even realized you had stood up. Nor had you registered the blood you had drawn from your own palms until you see the crescent moons, indented in the tender flesh, like a taunt as they stain Eris’ fingertips scarlet as he presses the fabric of his handkerchief to your grazed hand. 
“It’s nothing, My Lord,” You say softly, your voice low and you feel his eyes burning into yours; it is a slow, searing ache that almost feels like a kiss. A fragile thing, full of reverence and a strange tenderness. A vein of hurt throbs through you, quickly soothed by the press of his palm to yours. 
Eris Vanserra holds a power over you; commands you in a way that should feel unpleasant. The knowledge that you would give yourself over to him if only he asked. 
“It is only a little blood.” The words live and die on tongue, they fizzle out just as soon as they are uttered before he is calling for Rhysand -- his voice is swallowed by the din and your heartbeat echoes like a wardrum in your ears and the sound of the violet sea breaks against you and you feel your body go lax. 
You wait for the dull ache as your body meets the cool marble of the floor only it never comes; instead your weight is suspended in the embrace of Eris Vanserra’s arms, you vaguely hear your name from his lips before the world turns to darkness. 
You feel like lull of his heartbeat as he brings you closer against his chest. 
The smell of cedar and smoked bergamot follows you into the abyss. 
The room seems to come back to you like the tide; swiftly and cruelly as it materializes before you. It comes back in flashes of the dark; the oppressive pillars of dark marble that hold the domed, onyx ceiling in place, the silver fae lights like pallid stars and the visage of contorting demons and chimera’s like half formed ghosts. 
“What happened?” You ask looking around the darkened council chambers; once filled with the idle chatter of courtiers and High Lord’s and their entourage now only the Inner Circle is gathered in the darkness contained between these walls. 
And Eris. 
He burns golden against the black. 
“Well one thing is for certain,” It is Morrigan who stands over you, her shoes shine like rubies in the low light, “You know how to make a scene.” Her voice is light and jovial, laced with concern. 
“You fainted,” Feyre says plainly as she sinks to her knees before you. It is then you feel Eris’ solid frame as he radiates warmth behind you, where you are propped against his chest. Your body feels foreign and unlike your own as you move, transferring your weight from his arms and into the arms of Feyre who helps you stand on uncertain feet. 
“I’m sorry,” You say earnestly to both Rhysand and Feyre and turning to Eris again to mutter your thanks. He looks displeased at that. The distance between your body in his, the unfamiliarity you regard him with as if you hadn’t just allowed yourself to revel in the feel of his arms wrapped securely around you. “I’m sorry.”
“You should return to your father, My Lord.” You laugh humorlessly, using the hand that isn’t wrapped tightly around the lip of the chair to smooth a hand down the pleats of your gown reflexively.
A knock, resounding and resolute echoes through the chamber and the Inner Circle seem to bristle at the intrusion. Through the blanket of the dark a figure emerges; Keir stands tall with an air of arrogance about him as he steps into the antechamber. His hair is dark and graying and his face, though handsome, has begun to show signs of age. His eyes glitter menacingly as he finds you amongst the inner circle. 
“My apologies for the intrusion, High Lord.” Keir says, his voice full of dark promise as a second figure steps from the shadow, “but it appears there is a rather urgent matter that has come to our attention.”
The rooms seems steeped in solemn silence as Beron Vanserra reveals himself through the din; dressed in fine merlot robes and embroidered with gold threads and leaves. He looks like Autumn personified. All fire and wrath as he stalks into the room. 
“It appears you have been keeping secrets from me, Rhysand.” Rhys takes a step forward approaching Beron with little regard for the fury that burns behind his hazel eyes. The High Lord of Night laughs cruelly as Beron advances further into the room, seeking out his son, who reaches for you almost without thinking. His fingers flex around your forearm and push you further into Feyre as he steps in front of you both subtly. 
Beron looks suspiciously between the three of you. 
Beron smiles.
It is not a thing of fondness or affection-- It is dark and laden with malevolence. A whisper of amusement lights in his golden irises and Eris feels like a boy again; alone and afraid as the shadows of his fathers wrath descend upon him.
“You knew,” The High Lord of Autumn charges forward, tearing through Azriel and Cassian, as he raves. His voice is dangerously low and full of malice as he advances towards Eris. His eyes blaze against the dark as he casts his wicked gaze upon his eldest son.
“You knew,” He repeats frantically, “That whore is your mate, and you lied to me.”
Accusatory.
Without thought or care, Eris lunges forward and takes one long stride so that his body shields yours from Beron’s grasp as his fire burns vengeful and angry as it bands around Eris’s arms. The putrid smell of burned flesh brings bile rising in your throat and you feel Rhysand’s shields fortify around you and the rest of the Inner Circle in response. 
You wait for someone to do something, but as is the nature of these things Rhysand is not permitted to interfere in the affairs of other courts. And whether he likes it or not, Eris is subject to his High Lord and father. 
And as it stands he is a traitor to both. 
Eris falls to his knees before you and you feel the bond die in your chest; his scream is something akin to dying. It sears through you, burning like fire until you feel like a phoenix rising from its own ashes as your body moves of its own volition. 
“Stop, stop!” You plead with Beron advancing a pace towards him as you pull away from Feyre’s secure hold. Not even Cassian dares hold you back when you claw your way from the safety of his arms, “Please, he didn’t know.” 
Beron pays you no heed as his wrath brings Eris to his knees. 
“Please.” you beg, your voice aching and angry as you address the High Lord, ignoring the warnings of Azriel and Cassian, “He didn’t know.” 
“W-we hid it from him.” Your lie desperately, your voice though strained comes out in violent waves of anger as Beron continues to inflict his fire upon Eris.
Your mate.
In a desperate bid to spare him you beg once more. 
“Please, whatever you want, you can have it, I swear it.” And all the fire ceases.
Eris heaves a heavy breath and he collapses in a swath of burnished gold and emerald, strewn lazily against the marble. You sink to your knees beside him, his hands, though shaking, are firm against you as they grasp at the many layers of your skirts as he hoists himself up. Even on his knees he towers over you. His hair drapes like spidersilk over one side of his sculpted face as he peers down at you with dark amber eyes. Despite all the eyes in the room Eris brings a tentative hand to cup your cheek and all his remorse and grief flood down the bond that runs golden and brilliant from your body to his; as if to say no use hiding now, little fox. 
Eris rises to his feet before his father who looks on with a mixture of feral delight and complete apathy as Eris’ pain subsides. 
Keir retreats into the shadows and with him the air shifts; the room, once shaded in the smell of hemlock and moonflowers, is tainted with something more. Something darker. Earthy. 
The smell of wildflowers; smoke-kissed juniper and foxglove, all undercut with the smell of salt and iron. 
It occurs to you then that it is the smell of your mating bond. 
Beron loses a dark laugh and approaches you slowly, like a predator circles its prey. Deliberate and calculating as he takes your chin in his bony fingers and commands you to look at him. His eyes are much darker than Eris’, so dark that they almost look black in this light and even in his age you admire their depths, haunting and arresting. Beron cuts an intimidating figure, you think as he flashes you a smile that is all Eris. 
You sometimes forget how alike father and son are; though Eris is undoubtedly more striking; with his strange amber eyes and baring a broader physique than his father, with strong arms and shoulders and that beautiful copper hair which he had inherited from his mother. 
“Anything I want?” Beron muses deathly quiet as he brings you closer to him, so close that the heat of his breath against your face causes chills to rise along the skin of your arms and neck.
“Anything, that is within my power to give.” You clarify, unwilling to be tricked into a more heinous bargain than you had prepared yourself for. Feyre protests loudly, calling your name, begging you to see reason though her pleas are useless against the thunder of your heart in your chest; like the sound of a storm rolling in from the sea. 
Rhysand holds his wife by her forearms as she attempts to fight her way to your side. 
A bargain offered of your own volition cannot be undone or unmade. 
All that’s left to do is come to terms. 
Beron smiles again, a saccharine smile that turns your stomach as his free hand cups your hip harshly, his brows rise in question and you realize how he’s looking right through you to his son who stands defeated behind you.
“And if I want you?” You swallow hard as his hand on your hip tightens to a bruising grip.
The High Lord of Night protests and a dark ripple of power separates you and Beron, you stumble backwards until you’re pressed up against the dark wood table as it cuts into the backs of your thighs. Beron laughs playfully and raises his hands in mock surrender to Rhysand. Keir smiles with a sense of sick satisfaction as Beron nods for Eris to join him. 
Eris joins his father on the side of the room and Beron inspects him in carefully; scrutinizes every furrow of his brow or the tick of his jaw as charred flesh gives way to pale unblemished skin. 
Beron claps a hand over his son's shoulder and offers his half-hearted explanation. 
Filling his ear with poison. 
“Your mate has deceived you, my son; she is yours by right,” Beron preens like an over-satisfied cat, offering a wave of his hand as he gestures to you, “Is she not?” 
Eris swallows thickly and through the bond you can feel his wrath as it burns silent and deadly through you. His fire burns ferocious and wild. Dark and untamed. It ignites a similar storm in the pit of your stomach as Eris regards you with feigned malice much to the appeasement of his father.
His gaze, once soft and vulnerable, is cold and predatory as he takes his time to trail over the swell of your chest and the curve of your hips like a hungry animal. 
“She is,” His voice is sharp-edged as he nods impassively to his father, the glimpses of his true self now little more than a trick in the light as he adorns his facade like a suit or armor to spare him his father’s fire. 
“You mean to claim her?” Eris questions pointedly. Eris’ eyes move around the room with a careful, almost pensive, precision.
He can’t pretend that he doesn’t want it. Some primal, territorial part of him wants it more than anything. It’s animalistic and carnal. 
Wholly perverse. 
He wants you, terribly; he aches for you in a way that he has never ached for anything.
And you want him.
But not like this. 
Not as a pretty pawn to bring him to heel. 
“She will do well in Autumn,” Beron says in lieu of an answer. 
Rhysand and Feyre stand firm against the hostility in the room even as Beron approaches them once more. “An alliance between our two most ancient and noble courts,” Beron says in a celebratory manner, his arms outstretched in a show of arrogance, “made strong by the oaths that you will swear to my son and my court.”
“Very well, High Lord.” You acquiesce and Beron smiles as his words hit their mark
You swear that Eris could burn the city to ash then and something in him cools then under your watchful gaze; it burns blue under the surface and you can see it tempering to a cold unmoving stare cast in his father’s direction.
It’s grotesque, the anger that runs hot in his veins that sears its kiss into the place where your body and his are joined. 
You seethe. A raging tempest that comes off of you in violent waves of temper that threaten to swallow the room whole. And Beron Vanserra with it. It is almost enough to bring you to your knees before him as your skin burns under his rising fury.
Your eyes meet the strange amber eyes of Eris Vanserra at his father’s side and you think then, that you will happily suffer his fire if burning always feels so profound.
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chapter xv - gust & flame
Eris Vanserra x Reader
Eris Vanserra has been a prisoner in his own home since the day he was born. He has done what he had to in order to survive and protect the few he loves. And he is playing the long game. Waiting, waiting, and waiting for the right time to make his move, to usurp his wicked father and become High Lord of Autumn Court. But things become even more complicated when a human girl drops into his life. Perhaps Eris can wait no longer to take his throne.
Word Count: 4,300+
Warnings: violence, suggestions of sexual assault
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Feyre watched her boys from across their breakfast nook. Nyx was babbling happily in his father’s arms. His wings were now strong enough to reflect his emotions. They flapped lightly when he was happy – like now. They sagged when he was sad or tired. And they folded tight against his back when he was angry. 
Rhys was feeding him patiently as he tried to also read reports that Azriel had dropped off late last night. 
She should’ve known something was going to ruin their peaceful morning. 
The front door being thrown open was so loud that they didn’t even need their fae hearing to catch it. 
Cassian, Feyre and Rhysand both said into each other’s minds, while also sharing a look. Only the giant Illyrian would be so noticeably loud with his entrance. 
They heard every one of his steps as he marched his way towards them. 
To their surprise, Cassian opened the door to show that Azriel had been right on his heels.
“What is it?” Rhys asked seriously, knowing from their expressions alone that something was very wrong. 
“Y/N is gone,” Cassian answered hurriedly. 
“Gone?” Feyre repeated. She and Rhys both stood from their seats. 
Nyx eyes sensed his parent’s tension and whined in his father’s arms, eyes filling with crocodile tears.
“Her room was empty when I went to escort her to her shop this morning,” Cassian explained. “Drawers were left open and her belongings were strewn about. She packed lightly, left almost everything behind.” 
“Her shop hadn’t been opened for the day. Her scent was nowhere to be found there,” Azriel chimed in. 
“We’ve searched all of Velaris,” Cassian added.
Rhys turned his attention to his Spymaster. “Azriel, I thought you had your shadows following her…” 
Azriel bowed his head with shame. “It’s as though she…vanished. She must have cast some sort of cloaking spell.” 
“Brother, can you hear her?” Cassian asked Rhys and then looked to Feyre for help on the matter as well. 
But Rhys shook his head before the question was even finished. “Once she understood our daemati abilities, I believe she created an amulet to block us.” He shrugged, “Evidently, it made her uncomfortable.” 
Cassian cleared his throat and took a step forward. “There’s something else you should know. But you must promise to control yourself.” 
Feyre took their son from her mate. 
Rhysand’s gaze darkened. “What happened?” 
But Cassian stood his ground. “Promise me.” 
“Fine,” Rhys cooly. “I promise.”
“Last night, Nesta told Y/N the truth about Eris.”
Feyre closed her eyes and let out a long, frustrated sigh. 
Nyx let out another whine, earning him a gentle kiss from his mother. 
“Did she tell her about the deal?” Rhys asked. 
Cassian shook his head. 
“But we should assume she still knows – with her ability to find out information the way that she does,” Azriel commented darkly. 
“Does my sister not understand the risk she took?” Feyre asked exasperated. “If something happens to Y/N while she is still within the border of Night Court, the blood oath could finally claim what its owed!” 
But to everyone’s surprise, Rhysand comforted his mate. “Y/N deserved to know the truth, Feyre darling.” 
“She most likely left last night,” Azriel added. “Which means she’s probably halfway to Day Court as we speak.” 
“She wouldn’t try the mountains,” Cassian thought aloud. “Probably stuck to the coast this entire time. Y/N would know that’s the safest route.” 
“Both of you, search the eastern shores,” Rhysand ordered. 
Suddenly, Nesta burst into the room, breathing heavily. “She bought two horses. A stableboy in the city told me she was there late last night and paid him in fine jewelry.” 
The males all shared a look. “If she’s on horseback, she is already in Day Court,” Cassian explained. 
Feyre let out a breath of relief. Fae bonds were specific and rigid things. Rhys had promised Y/N’s safety to Eris as long as she resided in Night Court.
But that didn’t mean Feyre was done worrying about Y/N.
“How do we know she’s heading south?” Nesta challenged. 
“The Mortal Lands are the only home she knows. That is where she will go,” Azriel explained quietly. 
Nesta’s gaze narrowed. “But what if she is going to Eris?” 
Feyre was the one who answered. “I don’t think she is, Nesta.” 
Nesta exhaled, knowing her sister was most likely right. To mortals, the mating bonds of fae felt…overwhelming and somewhat terrifying. All Y/N knew was that Eris felt something toward her, something that she was completely oblivious to. It could all be so confusing.  
“But what do we tell him?” Nesta asked. “What do we tell Eris?”
“We tell him nothing,” Rhysand answered curtly. “At least, not yet. We must search for her first. Otherwise, Eris could possibly lose all reason, and his father will surely be suspicious then.” 
“I’m going with Azriel and Cassian,” Feyre announced. 
“Elain and I will stay with Nyx,” Nesta announced. 
“I will send word to Helion,” Rhysand nodded. “He be wary that we are asking about a mortal. And he will annoy me with far too many questions. But we must risk it.” 
Everyone started to take their leave. 
Feyre slowly handed her son to Nesta. “For what it’s worth, I believe you did the right thing telling her. I just wish you would have come to us first.”
Nesta scoffed. “All of you would have only tried to stop me.” 
And perhaps she was right. 
“Now, go and help them find her.” Nesta nodded towards the front door that her mate and Azriel had just left through. 
But once she was alone with her nephew, Nesta began to wonder: what would they do once they found Y/N? Drag her back to Night Court? Clearly, Y/N had no desire to be here any longer. So, would they force her back? Truly make her a prisoner? 
Cauldron, what must Y/N think of all of them now?
–🍁–🍁–🍁–
One Week Later…
Eris had felt a weight in his stomach that had been making him nauseous for nearly a week now. 
Something wasn’t right. His heart told him it was Y/N. 
Eris noticed his mother’s concerned looks during the few times he’d been in the same room as her.
But his father had been keeping him so busy with last-minute commands that there was no way for Eris to sneak off to the Night Court to check on Y/N or even speak to his mother. 
Now he found himself in a rare moment alone in his chambers. And he couldn’t even find the patience to sit.
Instead, he paced back and forth beside the giant fireplace. 
It was storming outside, a common occurrence in Autumn Court. But as the night went on, the lightning and thunder became more frequent, more aggressive. What was it leading to? 
Eris tried to think of way to sneak off without Beron or his spies noticing. Dare he even risk such a thing when his father seemed hidebound on keeping him close. 
There was a tension beneath his skin, scrapping against bone and muscle. It left him restless. It left him aching. 
Something was coming – whether it was coming for him, Eris did not know. 
But he was pulled form him inner turmoil when a letter appeared out of nowhere and floated down, right before his very eyes. 
Eris swore his heart stopped. 
Surely whatever Rhysand had to say would answer this gnawing feeling Eris could not get rid of. Had Y/N been attacked again? Was she hurt? Had that bastard shadowsinger made her cry again?
Eris held his breath as he opened the letter from the High Lord. 
She knows. She knows who you really are to her. And she ran when she found out. We have been looking for her for a week. She must be cloaking herself. We expect that she is heading for the Mortal Realm. Eris, we need your help. She needs your help. 
Eris swore he saw red. 
Y/N knew. She knew and she ran. Why would she do such a foolish thing? She was safe in the Night Court. 
“Fools,” Eris hissed to himself as he scrunched up the paper in his fist and then lit it aflame, not releasing his grip until it was only ash. 
All of them were fools. 
What had they said o make her flee? She’d built a life for herself in Night Court. And she had abandoned it so swiftly. Was the thought of being his mate so horrific? Did Y/N think all of them would eventually force her to be with him? 
Eris’ mind raced with hundreds of questions. 
He had to join the search – immediately. 
Suddenly, someone knocked on his door. 
“Leave me be!” Eris growled. 
But they knocked again, even harder this time. 
Eris marched to the door, preparing to harm whoever dared disturb him. 
When he threw open the door, one of Beron’s most loyal advisors stood before him.
“What?” Eris hissed. 
“The High Lord requests your presence in the throne room, my lord.” 
“I must decline,” Eris forced the words out. 
To ignore his father’s request was to play a most dangerous game. 
“The High Lord will not except a declination.”
It was a warning. Eris understood that. 
What he was trying to figure out was how much he cared at this moment, when Y/N was treading through the most dangerous territory in the Fae Realms - alone! 
Eris snarled before physically shoving past the advisor so harshly that he almost knocked the male off his feet. 
Eris didn’t wait for his escort as he stomped to the throne room. 
Whatever his father wanted, hopefully it wouldn’t take long. Then Eris could flee and find Y/n. 
——
“Why do you act as if you are scared?” Amren asked Rhysand. 
The letter was sent. 
Soon Eris would know what became of his mate. 
And the Court of Dreams stood in the foyer of the River House, wracked with guilt and worry. 
“I do not fear Eris,” Rhysand corrected. “But you do not understand what this will do to him: to lose one’s mate. I only fear what this will do to him.”
“She isn’t dead,” Nesta corrected him harshly, her arms crossed. 
“We cannot be sure,” Feyre sighed shakily. 
“Y/N is not some weakly!” Nesta defended. “She survived on her own out there years before we ever met her. She’s a Valkyrie.” 
Feyre was wise enough to look guilty. She should’ve never doubted Y/N’s survival. 
“Will he come here? Eris?” Cassian asked. “Or will he go on his own hunt for her?” 
But before anyone could answer, all windows were thrown open. 
And a tornado flew in from outside. 
Rhysand went to stand beside Feyre. Cassian rushed to Nesta, blocking her from any attack. Amren and Azriel unsheathed hidden weapons. 
But no one stood before them. Only wind that roared so loudly, they were all forced to cover their ears.
It screeched so harshly, that all of them fell to their knees in pain. 
“Y/N NEEDS YOUR HELP! SHE IS IN GRAVE DANGER! GO! NOW! TO THE AUTUMN COURT! TO THE FOREST HOUSE!”
–––
Eris hid his surprise when he found that the throne room was filled with courtiers. It was far too late in the night for them to be in attendance. 
Then he caught sight of his three brothers. They all sneered at him, proving that they knew something he did not.
Now Eris understood his father planned to make a spectacle of him if his brothers had dropped their duties just to witness whatever this was. 
Everyone else refused to look him in the eyes as he arrived. They feared him nearly as much as they feared their High Lord. 
The High Lord who sat upon his throne with a wicked smile. 
Eris stepped forward, only stopping until he reached the bottom of the stairs that led to his father. He kneeled, and kneeled deeply. He had been whipped for less. 
It wasn’t until Eris peaked and saw his mother’s expression that he knew something terrible had happened. 
She knew how to school her features in front of Beron. She played her role well, and left nothing for others to be able to decipher. 
Eris rose from his bow. “You wished to see me, High Lord.”
Beron tilted his head to the side as he looked down at his eldest son. “You are in charge of guarding this court’s borders, are you not?”
Eris nodded, “I am, High Lord.” 
“Then why was it I who found a witch wandering through our woods?”
Eris swore his fire blood turned to ice. 
There were other witches in Prythian. It could be someone else. Please, let it be someone – anyone – other than her. 
“Witches are cunning creatures,” Eris began cooly. “It is not surprising that one could pass through Autumn Court undetected.”
Beron seemed amused by his son’s response. 
The High Lord snapped his fingers. 
As if on cue, lightning and thunder struck just a second after. 
And a door behind the throne opened. 
Eris had to stop himself from becoming feral when he saw her. 
Y/N was dripping wet, being dragged by two men as both her hands and feet were secured with iron chains that scrapped across the wooden floors. 
There were bloodied scrapes and cuts across her skin, right alongside dozens of bruises. And Eris could see all of them due to the fact that Y/N was only wearing a sheer, white slip. And it was just as drenched as the rest of her, making it completely transparent and practically exposing her nudity to the entire hall. 
If Eris unclenched the fists at his side, everyone would see that he was trembling with rage. 
The males dragged Y/N until she was also at the bottom of the stairs of Beron’s throne. And half a dozen surrounded her with their weapons drawn, showing that they all saw her as a threat. Then one kicked at the back of Y/N’s legs, forcing her to fall onto her knees and face all of Autumn Court. 
Y/N was now mere feet away from Eris. 
When she finally found the strength to raise her head, she locked eyes with her mate. She schooled her features well, not even slightly looking at Eris with any recognition. But he wondered if it was because she was in so much pain. 
Both nostrils of her nose were still bleeding. The right side of her lip was swollen and split. Her left eye was almost black and bruised. And there was a cut on the right side of her forehead that drew a line of bright red blood down the side of her face. 
Y/N had put up a fight, that much was clear. 
“Do you know what makes a witch powerless?” Beron asked casually. “Iron. Many have forgotten this weakness. But witches are powerless, unable to cast – so long as they are shackled with iron.”  
Eris’ jaw was clenched tightly to stop himself from saying anything at all. 
“Yes, it is been quite some time since I have fallen upon a witch,” Beron continued as he stood from his throne and stepped down. He didn’t stop until he was directly behind Y/N. 
Eris wanted to lunge forward when Beron took Y/N’s wet hair and pulled it behind her, exposing her shoulders and neck. 
Beron hand ghosted over Y/N’s neck and then he roughly gripped her chin from behind her. Y/N winced and closed her eyes. 
Eris could clearly see that she was shaking.
“Our ancestors once kept witches as their slaves. High Lords would use them for coitus rituals, on display for all the court to see. I have heard the power these High Lords felt from it was…euphoric.” 
Beron walked around so that he was in front of Y/N, blocking Eris’ view of her. 
“But this one…has already put up quite the fight. She took out ten of my company before they were able to finally seize her.” 
Beron was bating Eris. That was obvious. Which meant he had to know who Y/N was to him, what she meant. But Eris was still figuring out how. Surely his scent wasn’t on her. He hadn’t see in her weeks. 
Eris didn’t move a muscle and composed his face to remain neutral. But on the inside, a war was raging. His instincts were screaming at him to attack, to protect his mate and rip her far, far away from his treacherous father. 
But that was clearly what Beron wanted. 
And Eris refused to give it to him. Not like this. 
Beron walked around Y/N again until he was behind her. Gripping her right arm, he jerked Y/N to her feet, exposing her entire body that showed through her wet and thin underdress. 
“But she is rather stunning, is she not?” Beron asked as his hand gripped her bottom harshly. 
Y/N hissed and tried to lurch away, but Beron’s other hand choked her neck. 
Eris watched as Y/N’s eyes filled with tears. 
“Perhaps we should renew our ancestors practices,” Beron whispered into Y/N’s ear. 
“Beron, that is enough!”
Everyone’s eyes whipped to their Lady of Autumn. The woman who had become more and more broken the longer she stayed in this court. The woman who submitted to her husband and never spoke out of turn. 
Eris tried to give his mother a warning look, but she wasn’t looking at him. No, she was glaring at her husband. 
But Y/N saw this as a moment of distraction.
She brought Beron’s hand that rested around her neck to her mouth and bit – hard. Until she tasted blood. 
Beron howled in with fury and pain. 
Y/N whipped around and lifted her knee to his groin – despite her ankles being chained. Her strike had the High Lord keeled over. But only for a moment. 
“You stupid bitch!” And Beron backhanded her so hard that Y/N flew to the ground. 
But it got her away from him, and Eris had his window. 
Moving his hands, he gathered a ball of flame and threw it, knocking Beron yards back. When he landed, his head slammed back against the floor. 
But when Beron rose to his feet, he was laughing. “You were always pathetic.” The High Lord immersed his entire body in flames. “Do you really believe you stand a chance against me, boy?” 
Eris said nothing as he drew the sword at his side and it too ignited in flames. 
With the wave of his arm, Beron unleashed a monster from his flames – a dragon, made entirely of fire. It lunged for Eris with its jaw open. 
Now the courtiers wailed in fear, knowing their High Lord cared not for their lives and was more than willing to risk them as collateral damage. 
Eris sliced the fire dragon’s neck with his sword. 
But then a whip of fire wrapped around Eris’ throat, scorching the delicate skin. Out of instinct, he tried to rip it from his throat, which only resulted in burning his hands. 
Beron pulled the whip toward himself, forcing Eris onto his knees. 
“Do you wish to know how I realized that she meant something to you?” Beron spit as he leaned towards his son. 
One of his guards dropped a bundle on the floor to the right of Eris. It was the bow and knife Eris had gifted Y/N. But the thing that surprised Eris was his cloak, the one he had thrown over her shoulders that night he’d found her crying. She had been traveling with it? 
Beron leaned even closer. “Did you truly believe I would not recognize the work of our royal blacksmith?”
Eris roared as he unleashed a wave of his own power, breaking the fire whip his father controlled. It knocked Beron back far enough for Eris to regain his footing. 
Beron cackled as he brushed off the attack. “Tell me, boy. Is she your lover? Or did you plan on using the witch to usurp me?” 
Eris only glared, refusing to feed this taunting with any response. 
Beron stood straighter and opened his arms. “Go on. Try your best.” 
But before Eris could do so, the throne room was thrown into shadow. 
The courtiers wailed in fear:
“I can’t see!” 
“What is happening?” 
A second later the shadows dispersed to reveal that all of Beron’s guards who were guarding the exit had been slaughtered. 
And the High Lord’s evil smirk was finally wiped from his face. 
Eris turned to find Azriel, Cassian, Nesta, Vassa, Jurian, and his youngest brother, Lucien. 
With the understanding that he was no longer alone, Eris had a newfound strength. Even if he fell, they would get Y/N out of here. His life no longer mattered. Eris would either take out his father or distract him long enough to save his mate. 
Eris roared as he sent a wall of flames at Beron. 
Azriel shot for Y/N, taking out any guard that stood between them. When he reached her, his shadows made work of her shackles and broke her free. 
“Can you stand?” He rushed. 
“I can do more than stand,” Y/N growled, and she rushed for the weapons that had been stolen from her. 
She started firing arrow after arrow, killing all the males that had attacked her and dragged her here. 
Then she took in her chaotic surroundings to find Lucien, Vassa, and Jurian holding back the three other Vanserra brothers. Cassian and Nesta were back to back, taking out any soldiers loyal to Beron. Azriel was close to Y/N, covering her back as she had fired off her arrows. 
But then Y/N caught another head of red hair. A beautiful, female High Fae who was throwing flames at anyone that tried to help Beron take on Eris.
His mother. It must have been Eris’ mother. 
All of her allies allowed Y/N to turn her full attention to Eris who was fighting his father with his all power. But he still wasn’t strong enough. Beron was a High Lord and had all the ancient magic of Autumn Court behind him. 
With swipe of both Beron’s hands, a wall of fire smacked into Eris, who didn’t have time to block it. And he was knocked onto his back. 
The sight infuriated Y/N. 
And something deep within her, that she didn’t recognize, rose up to the surface. 
Before she even knew what she was doing, Y/N had sprinted forward and put herself between Eris and Beron. 
“No! Run! Get out of here!” Eris yelled out – no, he begged her – as he struggled to get back to his feet. 
But Y/N ignored him. Because something was taking her over. 
Y/N’s hands reached out to the side. 
She started chanting words that no mortal or fae would ever understand. 
Beron stood and watched, about to laugh at whatever sad attempt this witch had at taking him down. 
But Y/N’s words grew louder, stronger. 
And that’s when the wind rushed into throne room. 
It shattered the every single window with it’s arrival. It caused more screams from the courtiers who failed to flee.
Y/N’s eyes were no longer her own, but covered in white and glowing as if there were two moons.
Her arms raised higher. 
The wind carried the shattered glass from the windows and pelted Beron like tiny they were tiny knives. 
The High Lord underestimated her so much that he hadn’t been prepared to block such an attack.
He hissed in pain as the glass cut across his entire torso. 
But Y/N wasn’t finished. Her chanting turned into a bellow. The words and rhythm had changed into something else. 
In response, the wind now circled around Beron, capturing him in a tornado. But it wasn’t just keeping him in place, it was sucking the air from his lungs as if he was caught in a vacuum. 
Beron gasped for breath, clutching at his neck as if it would help. As he failed, he fell to his knees. 
And while Y/N attacked the High Lord, Eris, Lucien, and their mother had formed a wall behind her, waiting for the moment when Y/N would need backup. 
“NOW!” Eris bellowed. 
Together, the three of them stepped in front of Y/N and heaved fire onto Beron. It all entered the tornado of wind, keeping it contained and concentrated.  
Beron’s cries filled the hall, loud enough to be heard over the wind and tornado. Despite being a wielder of flame himself, it burned him. 
Yet Y/N was growing weaker, she had never tapped into this much power and it was starting to take a toll on her body. 
The other three didn’t see as Y/N’s arms dropped and her eyes rolled back. She collapsed. 
Azriel rushed forward, catching Y/N’s body only a moment before her head could slam to the ground. 
Eris roared as he threw even more fire at his father, stepping even closer to Beron than Lucien and his mother. 
Beron’s skin was scorched to black, half his clothes burnt right from his body. 
Lucien and their mother paused their attack, as Eris marched to his weakened father as he unsheathed a hidden knife. 
Not underestimating Beron or his power, Eris immediately grabbed his father by the neck and pulled him up. 
Eris put his mouth close to his ear and whispered, “Her name is Y/N, and she is my mate.” 
And he drove the knife into his father’s heart. 
Eris then ripped it from Beron’s chest. And with one fluid swing, sliced off Beron’s head completely.
Only mere seconds after the decapitated head hit the floor, raw power filled the throne room. So potent that all fighting ceased. No one could ignore its feeling. 
Beron’s loyal soldiers finally realized their High Lord had been killed. 
And all that power moved to the heir of Autumn. 
The impact of it brought Eris to his knees. He groaned as he felt it take over him entirely and then fell to his hands. 
No one so much as breathed as they saw their new High Lord take over the throne. 
When the power finally stopped transferring, Eris slowly lifted his head. 
His eyes widened. “Y/N!”
And he whipped around to see his mate unconscious and beaten, in the arms of the shadowsinger. 
-----
I have had a really terrible last couple of weeks at work. And then I got really sick, which is how I had time to write this. But most importantly, I worked extremely hard on this chapter. So please, please, please write a comment. Or, as I always say, write me a book report. 🙏
Chapter XVI
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ervotica · 24 days
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Since you asked for eris requests 🤭 How do you think eris would react when he realizes he’s fallen in love with cat person 😂 he’d be sitting there with his 12 smoke hounds like 👁️👄👁️
lmfao this really amuses me
synopsis; eris never thought he’d end up falling for a cat person. when you smuggle one onto the grounds, he’s less than pleased.
You've picked up a stray cat that you've been hellbent on befriending for the past month– you’ve left out saucers of water and milk, chunks of chicken and beef from leftover dinners that you've snuck away from the kitchens after mealtimes. Eris has been interrogating you for weeks on why you’ve been so slyly skulking around the grounds, but you’ve refused to disclose anything to him, batting your lashes with a coy smile to get your way.
And when it does finally approach you, the damn thing won't leave your side, nuzzling up against your legs and purring when you scratch under its chin and between its fluffy little ears.
So you do the most reasonable thing anyone would under your circumstances– you smuggle it into your quarters.
The guards' affection for you runs so deeply that they turn a blind eye to the animal you've stuffed beneath your skirts, only chuckling amongst themselves at your antics when you're out of earshot.
When Eris saunters in the door after a long day of running around with his hounds, he finds you snuggled into an armchair by the roaring fire holding a... cat?
"What is that?" he pries, lip curling in disdain and watching as your arms tighten defensively around the animal; it digs its way deeper into your chest in response.
"It's a cat," you deadpan, fighting the smirk that tugs at the corners of your lips when he crinkles his nose in utter disgust. “You smell like dog,” you add, even as you beckon him closer with an incline of your head, holding out your hand for him to interlace his fingers with. He peers over your shoulder at the animal, forehead creasing with a frown sets deep into his brow and he scoffs.
"I don't like cats."
"Don't you like me?" you whine, fluttering your lashes up at him as your bottom lip spills into a pout that you know is bound to get you your own way once again.
"Sweetheart..."
"Look how cute he is, Eris! How can you not love his little face?"
“I’ll set the dogs on him,” he says curtly, but scratches the purring animal between the ears as you gasp and pinch his exposed forearm. “Ow!”
“Don’t you dare! I love him.”
“We can’t keep him, you know.”
Tears burn at the backs of your eyes. “Why not?”
He softens, smearing a kiss against the crown of your head. “Who would take care of him, hm?”
“Me! You know how much effort I’ve put into making friends with him?” You punctuate your statement with a crinkle of your nose, tucking your chin into your shoulder as the cat climbs his way up your chest. “Please, Er?”
You know you have him when he sighs, dropping his head to the juncture of your neck. He grumbles.
“Fine. But don’t expect me to be taking care of the damn thing.”
You preen under his touch, pressing a kiss to the curve of his jaw.
“I love you.”
“Yeah, yeah, you brat. I love you, too.”
If he wasn’t so smitten with you, he might’ve found it in himself to be cross.
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acourtofwhatthefuck · 9 months
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#4 on your enemies to lovers prompts is giving Eris vibes
Loose Lips — Eris Vanserra x Reader
Enjoy! 💕
✧: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・
Rhysand was going to kill you. 
And so was Cassian.
Probably Azriel, too.
Maybe even Amren.
And Mor — sweet, lovely Mor — would be disappointed. Hurt.
You’d fucked up.
The realisation dawned on you upon waking. The rain that drizzled outside felt painfully fitting. 
You sat up in bed, clutching the sheet to your naked body. Your eyes crept over to the sleeping figure at your side.
Eris Vanserra’s hair was tousled on the pillow, mussed from sleep. His bare, chiselled chest rose and fell evenly in his slumber. His milky skin looked soft as cotton.
In a state of sleep, with no snarl or grimace or glare twisting his face, he was actually quite…beautiful.
And vulnerable. There was nothing stopping you from reaching for your dagger and plunging it into his heart right now. Something you’d fantasised about doing countless times. Something you’d promised him you would one day do. 
The male infuriated you something chronic. His history with your friends made your loathing of him a living, tangible thing.
And yet here you were in bed with him. Naked. You peeked beneath the sheet just to be sure — but the memory of the previous night was clear in your brain.
You were only supposed to deliver a message on Rhysand’s behalf. That was one of many tasks as his courtier. You were good with wielding words, with gleaning information. So rarely did you represent him without returning with something for him to turn over in his mind. 
The problem was that you hated Eris Vanserra so ferociously, your tongue always seemed to run away with you. 
Somehow…somehow, last night, your vicious, barbed words had turned into hungry kisses. To stumbling up the stairs of the concealed house you always met in to exchange information. To ripping each other’s clothes off and moaning until your voices were hoarse.
You’d crossed a damn line. And you didn’t know how.
You weren’t going to stick around to find out. 
With Eris still sleeping, you rose from the bed, keeping your movements quick and silent. You shucked your creased shirt on, making fast work of the buttons. Tugged your breeches on and shoved your feet into your shoes. 
You didn’t know how you were going to explain to Rhys where you’d been all night. How a simple message had kept you away for so long.
You’d have to find a stream to bathe in. To wash away the smell of sex. And the Autumn lordling.
Your legs feeling like jelly, you crossed the room in quick strides, not caring to lace your boots up.
“Going somewhere?”
Eris’s voice was decorated with a morning rasp. The sound took you right back to the breathy moans he’d whispered into your ear. You shook off the shiver that danced over your skin, clenching your jaw.
“I’m leaving.” Was all you offered.
“Shame.” Eris sat up in bed, stretching his arms above his head. “And you were such tantalising company, too.”
“Last night was a mistake.”
There was something positively lupine in the way he appraised your unkempt appearance and cocked an eyebrow. Amusement danced on his lips.
“That’s funny. I don’t recall you saying no.” His amber eyes raked over you. “You said yes a lot. And gods, yes. Oh fuck, yes—”
“So you’re a great lay.” You gritted your teeth. “It was still a mistake. And it’s never happening again.”
He said nothing. Merely stared at you with that hint of a smile on his lips. It incensed you so much that you wanted to launch something at him. Before you could make any more rash decisions, you turned—
“You know,” Eris lay back, resting his arms behind his head. “You may just have the prettiest orgasm face I’ve ever seen.” 
“You’re despicable.” 
He chuckled. “Perhaps. But I’m also very clever. You see, while you view last night as a mistake, I view it as an advantage.”
Walk away, your mind screamed at you. Don’t even entertain him. Last night wouldn’t have happened if you’d just walked away.
You couldn’t stop yourself grounding out, “How.”
“Because, darling, I now have leverage against you, don’t I?” Those amber eyes glittered. “Your friends would positively lose their shit if they knew you’d bedded me. Rhysand would probably toss you out on your ass, and where would you go?”
Prick. Gods, the delight you’d take in throttling him—
“What do you want, Eris? For me to get on my knees and beg you not to tell them?”
He smirked. “Pretty as you are on your knees — no, that’s not what I want.” He was enjoying every second of this. “You’re just going to have to start being a bit nicer to me, is all. You know — so I don’t slip up and accidentally blurt something.”
You snorted. “That’s what you want? For me to be nice to you? Does my hatred for you cut deep?”
“Hatred.” He chuckled. 
You stared at him, a muscle in your jaw ticking. Your mind still pleaded with you to just leave.
But there was something dangerously challenging in Eris’s eyes. Something you couldn’t yet walk away from.
He gazed back at you, cocking his head. “Do you want to know what I think?”
“Not particularly.”
“I think,” he ignored your retort, “that being nice to me won’t be as hard a feat as you like to pretend.”
“You—”
“I think that somewhere, deep down, in that cold, emotionally-constipated heart, that you quite like me.” He grinned, flashing teeth. “And I think it fucking tortures you.”
Your body was taut.
You didn’t care that he’d won this round of verbal sparring. That he’d had the last word.
You only cared about getting out of there. Far, far away from him.
Without uttering another syllable, you turned on your feet and stalked out of the room. Before the truth could show on your face.
“Until next time, then, love!” Eris yelled after you.
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