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florencemtrash · 7 months

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Flame, Shadow, Beast : Beast I

Azriel x Reader x Eris

Summary: Years after Eris frees you from his father’s prison, you’ve managed to find a new love, new friends, and build a life for yourself in Autumn. But when a certain Shadowsinger stumbles upon your home, dragging in painful memories of betrayal and longing, you’ll have to face the things you left in the past and make choices about the future you want.

Warnings: Some Inner Circle slander. Angst... like a lot of it. And a family dinner that goes horribly wrong.

Flame, Shadow, Beast: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Bryaxis left you to find Eris. You were sure of it.

That is good, you thought, as you wiped away your tears and picked yourself off the floor.

If Azriel was able to enter Autumn unnoticed, you’d both need to reevaluate the security around Forest House and send a strong message to Rhysand that your thin alliance did not mean Azriel was permitted to enter and leave at will.

You swallowed your tears and collected your breath just as Eris rushed into the house like a tornado, scooping you up in his arms and searching you over with frantic eyes.

“I’m alright, Eris.” You murmured into his soft hair, breathing in his scent and finding it eased your aching heart, “He didn’t hurt me.”

Bryaxis followed in behind the High Lord, gave you both a nod and ran out again, this time in the form of a falcon. He was going to make good on your promise. If Azriel wasn’t out of Autumn by now he was as good as dead.

“Physically, you mean.” Eris said, lowering you to the floor and pulling you close.

You sighed, leaning against him. He pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“I worry about you in all ways, Y/n. But I confess, if he was able to best you in a fight I’d be surprised. I’d bet my money on you any day.”

You laughed without humor. Your mind went to business, as it always did when you wanted to ignore your true feelings.

“We should talk about defenses. I don’t like that he was able to enter Autumn unnoticed. Did you feel anything at all? Any disturbance?”

Eris’s jaw tightened. He knew what you were doing and wanted to take the time to talk through what you were feeling. But the look in your eyes told him now was not a good time.

He shook his head, “Azriel’s powers have always been clouded in mystery. My father spent years trying to keep him out. Clearly he wasn’t successful.”

“Once Bryaxis is back, I’ll ask that he keep guard - at least for a short time. Spread his power out over the borders. He’s built from the same darkness that seeps out from the Night Court and might have a better chance of sensing when things are wrong.”

And so are you. You crawled out of that darkness and survived. Eris’s eyes said, but you didn’t like to dwell on that truth often.

Years spent as Beron’s prisoner had changed you - made you more like the Shadowsinger than you cared to admit. Frustratingly it hadn’t made you any better at sensing when he was in your house and in your court.

“Good. I’ll speak to Halvor about increasing the guards posted around Forest House and the borders. We’ll keep it discreet and have Halvor winnow them.”

“And check for any missing guardsmen. He was wearing Autumn Court armor and either had to have stolen it or had it made himself.” You held out the patch of leather in your hand, discretely cut from the folds of his hood when you’d been speaking. Large enough for Myrah to scry with.

“It’s a good start.” Eris said, smoothing back the wrinkles in your forehead that came from irritation. He pressed his lips to your forehead, murmuring, “Talk to me, my love. And not about business this time.”

Your fists clenched and unclenched, anger brewing inside of you. But not all of it was directed at the Shadowsinger.

“I just-” You huffed, “I didn’t know he was here. I didn’t sense him. I thought the next time I saw him it would be on my own terms. That I’d be more prepared.” You kicked at the ground, sending one of your abandoned knives skittering across the floor, “Instead I froze.”

“Bryaxis didn’t seem to think so. He told me he’s never seen you punch anyone that hard.” You frowned at him, but the pride and satisfaction that twinkled in his eyes melted away some of your sadness, like the first rays of spring on winter frost.

You dropped your gaze to the floor, “He said he and Rhysand were the only ones to know about the deal.” Flames flared to life in his eyes, like someone had shone a light through amber stones. “He asked to visit with the others. In Autumn.”

Eris nodded slowly, carefully. He didn’t like this, didn’t like this at all.

“Is that what you want? To see them again?”

You missed some of them more than others. You missed Cassian’s boyish humor, Nesta’s blunt honesty, Feyre’s love for all things creative, and the bright light that Mor seemed to carry around with her as easily as a torch. You even missed Amren, who’d come to tolerate you well enough in the few years you’d spent with the Inner Circle.

But Rhysand and Azriel… You would have missed them the most if not for what they’d done. Rhysand who you’d once seen as a brother, and Azriel, who you could have fallen in love with so easily if he hadn’t constantly pined over other females. Perhaps you had fallen in love with him at one point. Maybe that’s why it hurt so badly to see him again.

“I…I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to make the decision now.” Eris said, tilting your chin up with gentle fingers, “But I would like to ask you one thing.”

“Since when do you ever ask for things?” You said, trying to lighten up your spirits by toying with your lover.

He shook his head, “I am a very greedy male. I ask for many things from you - your time, your love, your attention.”

“And what would you like to ask for now?”

Eris hesitated.

“For you to move to the Forest House. Today. I’ll send for the rest of your things in the morning.”

“Today?”

“Today.” You looked around the house. It had steadily been emptying the last two months, coming with you to the Forest House in bits and pieces as your once nonexistent visits to Court became more and more regular. It was all part of the plan to introduce you to Court life and prepare you for the role you’d one day take at Eris’s side.

“I thought you wanted to take time. Prepare things better-”

“I know. I know that was the plan. But I’d feel infinitely better with you under the roof of Forest House with me… with me.”

“Azriel doesn’t know about us yet. The other courts don’t know.” You said.

Eris had always been so careful, so cautious concerning you, paying the townspeople for their silence, spreading rumors of visiting pleasure houses and flirting with the bolder females in court to disguise the one person who warmed his bed. You didn’t want him to feel rushed.

“I know.” Eris steeled himself. The scars on his back flexed uncomfortably, pulling and stretching at his flesh with memories of the past, “I don’t want to be afraid of that anymore.” He said, “I’ve lived in fear my whole life, unable to protect the ones I love. You know this. I can do it now, with you standing next to me.”

“I just… I want to make sure you’re not doing this against your will because of what happened today.” You said it sincerely. Eris was all about plans and safety and heavily disliked straying from them.

Eris froze and then laughed, a full-bodied laugh that shook his sturdy frame and surprised you.

“What did I say?” You asked. When he didn’t answer, continuing to laugh, you slapped his shoulder, “What did I say?! Tell me!”

“Oh, my love.” He sighed, stealing a kiss, “I’m not asking you to come home with me because of the meddlings of another court. I’m asking you because I want you there.”

You blushed furiously, color flooding into your cheeks.

“Don’t look so surprised.” He said.

“I’m not surprised! We’ve talked about this.”

“We have! We’ve talked about this in great detail.” You glanced around the room. It had stopped feeling like home some time ago. Home was where Eris was.

“Today?”

“Yes.”

“As in right now.”

“Well I would give you time to pack whatever you think you’ll need for the next day. I’m not a brute.”

It was your turn to laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him fiercely on the lips. He tasted like cinnamon and cloves.

You packed a small bag of your most treasured belongings - few in number as most had already been brought to the Forest House - and then you were off. Bryaxis would find you wherever you were and you would be able to sense if anything was wrong with him. Even now you felt his power near the borders of Autumn where he prowled about on his mission. But Azriel was long gone from the Autumn Court.

The Forest House was bustling with energy when you arrived, fae of all shapes and sizes bowing to you and Eris, carrying baskets of bread, honeysuckle, walnuts, and pumpkins against their hips to bring to the kitchens.

Myrah, Halvor, and Aurelia - The Lady of Autumn - were there to greet you.

Myrah bowed deeper than the rest, grinning from ear to ear as she took your belongings and ran them to your room. She had served Lady Aurelia dutifully as a blademaiden for over fifty years, and now she would serve you with just as much fervor.

“My Lady.” You said, bowing your head.

Aurelia’s scarlet hair and amber eyes were a twin to Eris’s and she smiled at you with a light that had never fully dimmed during her marriage to Beron. Lucien might have been her favored son - the one born out of love and passion - but Eris was the most like her in appearance and she thanked the Mother for that every day.

“I’ll have none of that.” Aurelia said, grasping you by the arm and forcing you to stand upright. She ran her thumbs over your cheeks before dipping her head towards her son and leading you away for a proper meal and rest.

So it went for the next few months. You dove into your court duties during the day, attending meetings with Eris and Aurelia, court dinners, and pouring over reports by the warm light of the fires that filled every room in the Forest House. Your evenings were dedicated to your research in the libraries with Bryaxis curled up comfortably in your lap. And your nights were filled with Eris, whispered words under satin covers, hands resting comfortably against your back and thighs, silken strands of red hair between your fingers.

You ignored the letters that arrived on your desk from the Night Court for as long as you could. Nesta had even made her way through Winter to visit you in person, only to be turned away at the border personally by Myrah.

That had been the call for you to finally invite them to dinner at the Autumn Court.

The blademaiden, soft and swift as wind and more resilient than iron, brushed through your hair carefully, weaving thin leaves of gold into the braids until your hair gleamed when it caught the light.

Bryaxis was partial to her, puffing his chest out from his seat on the vanity until Myrah stopped her work to give him a quick kiss on his little black head.

“I think you might be his favorite person.” You quipped, smiling at her through the mirror as Bryaxis continued to sit ramrod straight, waiting for another display of affection. Myrah obliged, scratching him behind his ears as he closed his eyes and rumbled in satisfaction.

“Pffft. Everyone knows he’d go mad if you so much as chipped a tooth.”

“Teeth are important! It’s less impressive when you snarl at enemies with a gap in your teeth.”

Myrah snorted, finishing your hair and wrapping her arms carefully around you. Her hair was similarly arranged with silver instead of gold to better match her gray-blonde hair and steel gray eyes. She looked like the thunderclouds that rolled over the hills before rain.

You patted her arm before moving over to the full length mirror, carved from a single slab of wood to look like birds in flight. Your breath caught in your throat. The wine-red dress hung from your frame as light as air, threaded with black and gold around the careful beadwork so that you rustled with light and energy. You looked otherworldly.

Myrah brought her hands to her lips, glowing with pride and happiness. For years she’d seen Lady Aurelia wilt and endure. It was good to know you would not suffer the same fate. She’d sooner die than let anything happen to you. Even Bryaxis was impressed with your appearance, shifting between shadow and flesh as he regarded you with a molten eye.

A knock on the door drew your eyes away from your reflection. Aurelia stepped inside with an ornate wooden box in her slender hands, looking like a living flame and crossing the room on light and even steps.

“How are you feeling, my dear?” She asked gently, putting the box down and taking your hands in hers. Myrah bowed and took her leave, taking up her position outside the door. The folds of her skirt concealed a gleaming silver sword and no shortage of other weapons.

Bryaxis also followed, rubbing against Aurelia’s ankle with a gentle purr as went.

You took a deep breath after the door shut.

“Nervous.” You said honestly, “More than I would like to be.”

“That’s understandable.” Aurelia said, surveying the curve of your dress, your neck, and ears and nodding. “You look powerful. Myrah did well. Not that you needed the help.” She whispered the last few words like a secret, as if concerned the female outside would overhear and find offense.

You smiled.

“But, I think you’re missing a few elements.”

You blinked, smoothing your skirts and looking around. You hadn’t thought you were missing anything.

Aurelia opened the box, compartments springing outward like the unfurling of alocasia leaves. Rows upon rows of jewelry, some delicate and some that weighed as heavy as stones, were laid out neatly.

You blushed furiously.

“Eris didn’t-I mean this is too much”

Aurelia tipped her head back in laughter, hair swaying across her graceful back like the flickering of candlelight against a window.

“Now that you are here I am sure Eris will spare no expense. But these are from me.”

With patience and a careful hand she helped you pick out a thin pair of bracelets that snaked up your arm like the veins of a riverbed, golden cuffs that accentuated the length of your ears, and finally a dainty necklace of amber and gold.

“This one looks different from the others.” You said, tracing the thin chain against your chest, “It’s beautiful.”

Aurelia smiled, a quiet sadness in her eyes. “It wasn't made in Autumn.”

“Where was it-” You paused. A knowing look passed between you two. “I understand.”

The clock chimed. A gentle ring that made your heart beat faster. It was time. The Night Court would have arrived already - if they decided to be punctual that was.

“I suppose it’s time.” You said, offering your arm to the Lady of Autumn.

“One more thing.” She said, grasping your shoulders so you stood face to face. The crown glittered in her hair - a thin band of gold from which grew garlands of paper thin flowers and maple leaves interwoven with redwood. It was said to have been made by one of Autumn’s Old Gods, a powerful relic that spoke of traditions past that the people still honored.

It rested on your head now, laid there by Aurelia’s slender hands.

“Perfect.” She said with a smile, tilting your head up with two fingers beneath your chin.

“I can’t-I can’t wear this.”

“You can, and you will. Your Lady commands it.” She took your hand in hers, squeezing it with all the love of a mother, and led you out the door.

Myrah was vibrating with excitement and kept stealing glances as the crown on your head. Bryaxis curled up around her shoulders as she trailed after you and the Lady of Autumn.

Eris and Halvor were already waiting by the steps to the great hall - Halvor in his general attire, and Eris looking like the heart of Autumn in a resplendent suit of bronze, gold, and scarlet. He stilled when you approached, eyes darting to the crown in your hair and softening. His mother only nodded, giving you both her silent blessing.

“You look beautiful.” He murmured as you took his arm.

“As do you.”

Halvor coughed and Myrah rolled her eyes.

“You also look wonderful, Halvor.” You said, shaking your head with laughter.

He bowed deeply, “Thank you, My Lady.”

You blushed. With the Lady of Autumn’s crown resting in your hair and the unofficial title rolling off Halvor’s tongue like it was the most natural thing in the world, it all felt like too much.

Eris squeezed your hand in reassurance, flashing you one last smile before he would have to let the mask of the High Lord slide over his face.

“Ready?”

You nodded. “Ready.”

You descended the steps, Aurelia and Myrah (and Bryaxis) to your right and Halvor to Eris’s left. They were the beginnings of a proper court. An Inner Circle of their own. Eris swallowed the emotion, the gratefulness for everyone who stood with him, for another time.

Still, he was looking at you when you all made your appearance and the Night Court’s conversations died in the air.

Nesta, Cassian, Mor, Feyre, and Azriel all stood to one side of the table. Cut from the trunk of an ancient elder tree, the rings spoke of the passage of two thousand years. You felt insignificant in the face of all of that history, gripping Eris’s arm for reassurance as you led the way down the last flight of stairs.

“Welcome to Autumn Court.” Eris said, voice cold and emotionless as he swept his arm out to the side and dipped his head ever so slightly. Everyone in the room followed suit… everyone except you. You weren’t going to waste a single moment on pleasantries when you could drink in the sight of your old family… if they had ever even been your family.

Nesta noticed, never taking her eyes off of you as she searched you head to toe, lingering on the glittering crown on your head with barely concealed surprise.

The sight of it was a dagger through Azriel’s heart, twisting and turning without mercy as Eris placed his hand at the small of your back. Protective, cautious, and ready to winnow you away at the first sign of trouble.

It should have been him standing beside you.

Rhysand was conspicuously absent as you’d expected. There was no way he’d drag the core members of the Inner Circle to Autumn and leave Velaris vulnerable. But perhaps it was better this way.

“Y/n.” Nesta said, breaking the awkward silence that followed. Her voice came out strangled with grief.

You blinked in surprise at the emotion in her voice. There was a hollowness beneath her eyes where dark shadows gathered, thinly covered with makeup to make them less noticeable.

Your teeth ground together to hide the trembling in your lips.

Nesta. Beautiful, sharp, and terrifying Nesta. Nesta who you’d dragged home from bars, stumbling and wasted. Nesta who you’d screamed at and cried with. Nesta who would never, ever let anything happen to the ones she cared about.

“Nesta.” You said carefully. You looked at Eris and he gave you an almost imperceptible nod.

Go on. This is for you. His eyes said.

You let go of his arm, stepping forward like a boat slipped off its mooring.

“Cass,” He smiled at you, warmth flooding his chest when you still used his nickname.

“Feyre,” Her eyes glittered with starlight.

“Mor,” She let out a shaky breath.

You steeled yourself for the last, familiar face.

“Azriel.” He stood there, still as stone while his heart raged inside him.

“It’s… it’s good to see you all again.” The words flowed out of your mouth more easily than you’d expected and you found there was a great deal of truth to your words.

The last you’d heard, Feyre was suspected to have given birth to another child - a girl this time. The gentle roundness of her figure and glow of her smile confirmed it. And Nesta and Cassian had married, twin rings of silver flashing on their fingers. Marriage was insignificant in the face of the bond they shared, but you were happy for them nevertheless. And Mor… Mor was as bold as ever, daring to race across the room and gather you up in her arms in a tight hug.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry.” She gasped, burying her face into your hair and breathing in your familiar scent.

You stiffened in her arms.

Halvor’s arm shot out in front of Myrah, her hand hidden in the gathers of her skirt and resting on the knife strapped to her thigh. She was a coiled spring, ready to launch herself at anyone who dared touch you. It wasn’t until you slowly relaxed and returned Mor’s embrace that Myrah allowed herself to loosen, flashing a scowl in Halvor’s direction. He only smirked and winked at her.

“We didn’t know. Please believe me. Please come home.” Mor whispered the words for you and you alone.

Come home.

You closed your eyes, breathing in deeply before peeling the female off of you. You didn’t try to ignore the pain or betrayal that flashed in her eyes when you stepped away and floated back to Eris’s side.

“Please, sit.” You tapped Eris’s arm and with a snap of his fingers, mountains of food appeared on the table in front of you. Any other day your mouth would be watering at the sight, but today your stomach only clenched with nerves as you and Eris took your seats at the head of the table.

Feyre and Mor sat across from you at the other end, Azriel to their right and seated next to Aurelia and Myrah, and Nesta and Cassian to their left. The Lord of Bloodshed scowled at Halvor, who only smirked and dropped into the seat beside him.

If anyone wanted to attack their High Lord and Lady, they’d have to tear through Halvor and Myrah to do it.

Aurelia was a blessing as always, pushing the conversation through the usual, pleasant motions even when tension hung thick in the air.

How do you do it? You wondered, as she managed to draw a quiet laugh from Feyre’s lips.

The High Lady of the Night Court wore a deep, wine red dress so dark it was nearly black. Only the warm light flickering from the three fireplaces and the faelight chandeliers dangling overhead hinted at the color of the fabric. Somehow you knew it was Feyre’s way of showing her support for you.

She was shocked, as was everyone, when you’d appeared at the steps looking every bit like a High Lady beside Eris. And the love in his gaze hadn’t been lost on her. He looked at you the same way Rhys looked at her.

“How long have you been living here?” Feyre finally asked gently.

You’d hardly touched the roasted quail and walnuts in front of you, carefully following the conversation and wondering who would be the first to ask you the questions they were all dying to know the answers to. You weren’t making things easy for them, sitting on your small throne of cedar and gold that was the twin to Eris’s seat and looking as impassible and aloof as a bronze sculpture.

Everyone’s eyes focused on you. Eris shifted ever so slightly in his seat, angling his body towards you and leaning on his hand with a carefully crafted expression of boredom on his beautiful face.

“Eight years. Almost nine now.” You said, swallowing a bite of food with difficulty. The Inner Circle froze, the sounds of singing cutlery falling silent.

“Eight years?” Cassian said, his face paleing.

Nesta’s grip on her fork and knife tightened, knuckles turning white as the silverware struggled not to bend.

“We didn’t hear you were alive until four months ago. If we’d known…” Feyre’s voice faltered.

“You would have visited sooner? Don’t bother yourself with that. I didn’t want you to know. I wanted to be left alone.”

Azriel seemed to shrink in his seat when you said that. After all, he’d helped set this all into motion.

“So what changed?” Mor asked, almost accusingly. It was the first time she’d spoken since embracing you and the sting of your rejection hadn’t dissipated over dinner. “You’ve moved into the Forest House. Been seen at court. With him. If you want to be left alone, to stay hidden, you’re doing a terrible job of it.”

Before Eris could spit back a reply, Halvor growled threateningly, banging the table with his fist. “I’d watch my tone if I were you.” He said as smoke rose from between his fingers.

If it was any other court they were dining with, Eris would have warned Halvor to control his temper. As it was, he only gave a minor nod of approval to his brother. There were many things they disagreed on, but one thing was certain - they’d both protect you to their last breath.

“You’re being awfully silent, Eris.” Mor spit out, completely ignoring Halvor and Eris’s rightful title.

“Mor.” Feyre hissed in warning.

Your eyes turned dark.

Eris swirled the wine in his goblet, taking a careful sip and making a point of looking languid and unimpressed.

“I don’t have anything to say.” He paused, “Actually, that’s a lie. I have much I would like to say to you. Choice words that your precious Inner Circle wouldn’t appreciate hearing.” He looked at you, eyes softening as he downed the rest of his wine, “But tonight’s not about me.”

“Y/n.” Mor said, half in anger and half in desperation, “Stop this and come home. You don’t belong here.”

“And why should you have a say in where she belongs?” Myrah said. Her normally soft and lilting voice was low and deadly, “You were the ones who abandoned her in our court to die. Does the story sound familiar to you, Morrigan?”

“Mor,” Cassian and Feyre both reached for her hands, but she ripped out of their hold, standing up with an ugly groan of her chair as it was sent toppling backwards.

Her chest heaved with fury, fingers twitching for a weapon that wasn’t there.

Myrah matched her anger, knife sliding into her hand with ease as she pointed it at the blond-haired female across the table, “Who’s the villain now? Or will you do what you’ve always done and blame it on my High Lord?”

The tension in the room finally snapped.

Mor screamed in fury, launching herself across the table. Before Myrah could land the first blow - a wild glee in her eyes - Azriel leapt up from his seat. He angled himself in between the two females, wrapping his arms around Mor’s waist and pulling her away as she continued to fight back and scream bloody murder.

Feyre’s jaw clenched, slamming against Mor’s mental shields. Her commands to stop fell on deaf ears.

“You bitch! I’m going to kill you!”

Myrah beckoned her forward, daring Mor to try.

At some point in the chaos of it all, Bryaxis had changed form, taking on the shape of a bear and climbing onto the table beside Halvor. Cassian pushed Nesta behind him, his already pale face blanching further as he recognized the monster that bared its teeth at him and his mate.

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” You slammed your hands against the table and stood up, your powers exploding outward in a rush of darkness and dampening the powers of everyone in the room. Everyone except Eris.

He stood up slowly and moved to stand behind you, one hand resting on your waist. His touch grounded you.

He’d felt your power before. He understood it. And he would not stand in the way of it. He would not stand in the way of you.

And he would not let you stand alone.

Mor stilled in Azriel’s arms, gasping as the suffocating nature of your power lifted off of her. Everyone slowly recoiled back into their seats.

Bryaxis returned to your side, inky eyes surveying the scene like a hawk.

“I invited you here so you would know that I am safe and well and happy. Not so you could insult and threaten my family. If you want to continue like this, you may as well save us the trouble and leave.”

Mor took in a shaky breath, face hidden behind her golden blond curls, and went silent.

“You should have told us.” There was no saving this evening, and Nesta finally took the opportunity to say her piece. “You should have told us you were alive. We would never have left you here alone. We would have brought you home.”

“Don’t you dare, Nesta.” You seethed, “Don’t you dare make me out to be some traitor. I never told Beron anything. No matter what he did to me. No matter what he threatened to do. I never betrayed you.”

Nesta’s eyes were two thin chips of ice and the knife she’d kept in her hand snapped in two, clattering to the floor. But the cold anger she harbored in her heart was not aimed at you.

“We didn’t know.” She said, “I nearly killed Azriel and Rhysand when I found out what they’d done.”

Azriel flexed his shoulders, feeling the memory of Nesta’s blade stabbing through the scar there. She’d aimed for his heart. It was only because Cassian intervened that he’d been spared. Now he wished her aim had been true, maybe then he would have been spared the look of heartbreak on your face now.

“What kind of an excuse is that?! If Beron had asked for anyone else in the Inner Circle none of you would have dared to even entertain the idea of a trade to get Elain back.”

“There was no other choice.” Mor said weakly, trying her best to defend Azriel as he had always defended her.

The mighty Shadowsinger looked like death next to her. Still and empty.

He’d never been quite the same after handing you off to Beron. When Elain had been returned to their family safe and sound and curled up in his arms, it wasn’t the joyous reunion they’d been hoping for.

Azriel had left a piece of himself behind with you, something he’d never managed to get back.

“THERE’S ALWAYS ANOTHER CHOICE!”

The rage and heartbreak stirred within you. Never gone. Never forgotten. Only contained.

“You would have gone to the ends of the earth to protect your own. You would have burned the world to the ground rather than agree to a trade of lives.”

Your eyes narrowed in on the High Lady, someone you’d once respected and would have died for.

“Feyre. What would you have done? Hmmm? What would you have done if Beron asked for Mor, or Cassian, or gods forbid Nyx in return for Elain?”

Feyre’s confidence faltered, the mask of the High Lady cracking and splintering under your forceful gaze.

“What would you have done?”

“I… I would have-” Her voice broke, “I would have given myself or died trying to find another way. I never… I never would have done what we did to you.”

“I would have done it.” You whispered. “If that’s what you’d asked of me. If that’s what needed to be done, I would have gone to Beron willingly to help you.”

Eris closed his eyes at the admission. It burned him to see you like this. Pieces of his heart cracking along with yours. He wanted nothing more than to winnow you away from this place. From these people.

“It was my fault.” Azriel said, stepping into your line of sight and hiding his High Lady behind him. His hazel eyes bore into yours, begging you to listen to him. “I was the one who told Rhys to agree to the trade. I was the one who convinced him not to tell anyone until it was too late. If you are to blame or hate anyone, blame me. Hate me.”

Your lips trembled, eyes burning with unshed tears as you took in shaky gulps of air. You should have hated him. You should have wanted to bury him beneath the force of your power, steal away his breath, and kill him where he stood. And with the way he looked at you, propped up by longing and shame and hope, you knew he would let you.

If you pulled out a sword, he’d kneel down and bend his neck forward. If you tackled him to the floor and beat him bloody, he’d smile to have you so close to him again.

It was a terrible, unfortunate thing that the fiercest kinds of hate existed only a hair’s width away from the fiercest kinds of love. Because the truth was you didn’t hate him. No matter how much you’d convinced yourself that you hated him, it wasn’t true. You loved him. And that was a far, far worse thing.

The bond snapped into place for you so suddenly, so much like a blow to your chest that you stumbled back, crashing into Eris’s solid form as he wrapped his arms around you. It burned in the deepest parts of your soul, filling you with a warmth and light that should have comforted you but instead only made you cower.

“No.” You gasped, curling into Eris’s chest and ignoring the looks of horror from everyone in the room.

Azriel was kneeling on the floor, one scarred hand clutching his chest as he felt the fullness of the bond rear its mighty head.

It was everything that he had ever wanted. He could feel you on the other side of the bond as naturally as he felt his own being and you were bright and warm and lovely and fierce. You were more overwhelming than a winter storm. More devastating than an earthquake.

He thought he was going mad. He wanted to kill Eris for holding you like that - for holding his mate. But… you looked so scared. Scared of him.

“No. No. No no no no no no.” You repeated over and over again, burying your face into Eris’s shoulder as Aurelia flew to your side, murmuring words into your ear that you couldn’t register.

“Y/n.” Azriel’s shadows were flying around him now, reaching out to you and desperately sliding up your arms and legs. Through the bond you felt it all - his shame, his self-hatred, his longing... His love.

Your power shot out in a wall around you at the same time that your mental shield slammed closed on the bond. His shadows beat back against your power and against the barrier you’d placed around your mind. You could still feel him there at the edges, begging to be let in.

The table shook and groaned, bottles of wine tipping over and crashing into waves of red over the floor as Cassian, Nesta, Mor, and Feyre slid backwards.

Azriel stood his ground as best he could, half-crawling towards you against the whirlwind of your power. You faintly heard him roar your name over the sounds of the room tipping and turning.

You were afraid to look at Eris. The one who’d given you a home. The one who’d promised you the world by his side. The one you loved and the one who loved you more than anything.

Eris held your clinging form to him, fire exploding from around him and wrapping around his family members in a protective circle as Feyre, Cassian, and the rest called out to you, begging you to listen to them.

“Get out.” He roared. You trembled in his arms, clutching him tighter, but his words were not for you. “Get out of my house. Get out of my court or I swear to the Mother I will burn you where you stand.”

His words, dangerous and unyielding, echoed throughout the room.

Cassian pulled Nesta to his chest.

“Nes, we need to go. Nes… She doesn’t want us here.”

Every part of her being screamed at her not to leave you again, but Cassian was right. You didn’t want them here anymore. So after one last look at you, she took her husband’s hand and disappeared without a trace.

Tears streamed down Mor’s face as she and Feyre shook Azriel, murmuring to him to get up. He stared, slack jawed and unrecognizable as he looked at you with more feeling in his expression than anyone had thought him capable of, silently begging at you to look at him, just once.

Feyre shook her head at Mor, grabbed him by the shoulders, and winnowed them all away.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

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Author's Note:

This was a really tough chapter for me to write because I wanted to get the nuances of all the characters correct and give everyone their own 'moment' during the dinner scene.

I want to make clear that I really like Nesta and Mor as characters and just because I write them be more 'hostile' towards Reader and just because Myrah attacks Mor and invalidates her past trauma does not mean I dislike them or have any hate for them.

*(And by 'Myrah' I mean me because... you know... I wrote the damn thing)

They're both complicated characters and I don't always condone the actions of the characters/versions of characters I write. It's just part of the fanfiction writing process that sometimes characters you have a lot of love and respect for have to become the antagonist in another person's storyline.

I just wanted to leave a note about that because I think Nesta and Mor get a lot of unfair hate from readers and I don't agree with that.

Thanks for reading and thanks for listening to my Ted Talk.

Love,

Florence B.

P.S. I know this chapter is pretty long (I think it's 6,000+ words) but I didn't want to disrupt the momentum by breaking up the chapter. Forgive me. Or don't.

Taglist: @nightless @mmb-09 @thesnugglingduck @cleverzonkwombatsludge @kemillyfreitas @logankemaek @the-sweet-psycho @a-frog-with-a-laptop @flameandshadowx @applerubyy @esposadomd @imma-too-many-fandoms @bubybubsters @kalulakunundrum @chasing-autumns-chill

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throneofbriars · 5 months

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐏𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫

PAIRING: Inner Circle x Reader; intended eventual Eris x Reader

SYNOPSIS: The reader wrestles with being the only Inner Circle member without powers and begins to realize just how isolated she feels.

WC: 1.0K (just a short little snippet from an abandoned fic that I didn't want to keep locked in the vault)

AUTHORS NOTE: This was intended to be an Eris x Reader fic, but I abandoned it 1k words in because it wasn't going where I wanted it to. I might pick it up again someday if people are interested, but, for now, have this little snippet of a powerless Archeron Sister!Reader contemplating power within the IC.

What does it mean to hold power?

Rhysand held power - he was power and he used himself as a weapon, artfully skilled in being both the blade that felled and the shield that defended. Feyre held power, gifted to her by the High Lords of Prythian themselves, who were unaware of the unfettered access she had to the gifts of the Courts - Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter, Dawn, Day, and Night.

The power that simmered between Rhysand and Feyre - the High Lord and Lady of Night - was the reason their Court could be as free as it was.

Cassian and Azriel held power. The Lord of Bloodshed and the Shadowsinger, owners of seven siphons each - a great testament to the raw power that ran through their veins. They used their powers - Cassian’s unforgiving strength and Azriel’s manipulation of the dark - to protect the Night Court.

Elain held power gifted to her by the Mother - by the Cauldron she so desperately wished to forsake. The female was a Seer, a prophet who was ignorant and inexperienced in reading the prophecies she saw. Elain rejected the Cauldron's gifts, both her power of sight and her mate, Lucien. Though the Cauldron still called to her, still whispered prophecies into her ear, still haunted her with ghosts of a future she had no desire to foretell.

Even Nesta - bitter, cruel Nesta - held power. It wasn’t a gift like Feyre’s or Elain’s, nor was it inherent like Rhysand’s or Cassian’s or Azriel’s. No, Nesta’s power was taken from the Cauldron, clawed from the damned thing as retribution for the suffering the female went through in the name of its power.

Lady Death, they called her. A being of frigid night and silver flame; one of the few who could wield the Dread Trove without consequence. She offered the power back to the Cauldron as the price for Feyre’s life and the Cauldron happily accepted. But, Nesta held onto a fraction of that power and it became part of her, the death magic weaving into the very foundation of her being.

So, what does it mean to hold power? Nothing.

Power means nothing until it’s used - for better or for worse.

It was unfair, you believed, how meaningless the Inner Circle’s powers were now that they sat idle, waiting to be taken from the shelf, to be dusted off, to be utterly unleashed.

It was unfair that those who take it for granted were gifted powers that most could only dream of. If you had powers, you would cherish them, use them to make the world better.

But, you didn’t. You weren’t given any gifts by the High Lords of Prythian like Feyre. You weren’t deemed fit by the Mother to be gifted with power from the Cauldron like Elain was. You didn’t have the same claws as Nesta, the claws used to rip power from the Cauldron by force.

You were just you. A Cauldron made female. High Fae. The product of a wicked king’s endless greed. Plain. Simple. Powerless. You.

“Cassian, you really shouldn’t be using such foul language around Nyx,” Nesta reprimanded, bouncing the winged baby in her arms.

“You should have heard the things said around us when we were growing up, Nes,” Cassian countered, looking pointedly at the female sat next to him. “Your first curse word is a right of passage in the camps.”

“This isn’t an Illyrian war camp, Cassian, and-” Nesta’s words were cut off by Rhys, who spoke up from the head of the table.

“-And that will not be a right of passage we’ll be celebrating. His first flight, sure. When he inevitably kicks your ass- butt- for the first time,” a cunning grin made its way onto the High Lord's lips, “absolutely.”

Those sitting around the table, privy to the conversation - Rhysand, Azriel, Cassian, Nesta, Elain, and yourself - laughed at the High Lord’s words. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that sooner-rather-than-later the little winged child would kick the Lord of Bloodshed’s ass. It was inevitable.

“The High Lady will have your head if she finds out you’ve been speaking like that around the little one, Cas.” Azriel smiles, equally as cunning as Rhysands, before continuing, “You should keep your big mouth shut.”

“Ha,” Cassian’s laugh is booming, his words cocky. “I’m not scared of Feyre.”

“Why would you be scared of me?” Feyre’s voice rang out from the entryway of the dining room. Flecks of paint decorated her hair and clothing, a testament to her hard work in her studio on that morning.

Cassian’s eyes went wide, his face falling into one of surprise and - fear?

“Nothing- no reason,” the Illyrian male floundered. “I mean- who said anything about being scared? I’m not scared; nobody is scared.”

Azriel snickered as he shoveled another forkful of eggs into his mouth. Cassian latched onto the movement, a silent conversation passing between the two Illyrians before the Lord of Bloodshed turned his attention back towards his High Lady.

“Azriel cursed in front of Nyx-”

“Eat shit, Cassian.” The words rolled off of Azriel’s tongue before he knew what he was saying, his face blanching as the realization caught up with him.

“Azriel.”

Rhys and Feyre jumped to reprimand Azriel, the others around the table holding back their laughter. You, however, had stopped listening, withdrawing into the comfortable presence of your own thoughts.

It was always like this with Rhysands Inner Circle.

Once upon a time, you had enjoyed it - listening to the familial banter of your sisters and their mates… of your family with their family. But you had grown tired, weary of never feeling the sense of belonging, of connection that you desperately craved.

You were part of the Inner Circle, part of the family… but you were distinctly separate.

Perhaps it was your own fault. Life hadn’t left much room for hope - hope for connection, hope for family, hope for love, hope for hopes sake. You’ve become certain it’s too late for you to learn how to hope for anything.

And, though you were tired, though life and fate had left you thoroughly devoid of hope, you would play the role that was assigned to you - you owed Feyre that much.

One empty smile at a time.

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iamreykylotrash · 10 months

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you whispered to the flames.

Nesta sat on the shores of the Night Court, hiding away from those who claimed to be her family. She watched as the waves crashed against the sand, seeing the water get close to touching her feet.

Her knees were to her chest, arms crossed on top while her chin laid upon them. It was as if she were protecting the last bit of herself that she did not want to give away. She felt lost, believing she had finally found home... but it didn't seem that way anymore.

She had been feeling this way for months, not knowing why. Cassian tried to speak with her, tried to get her to open up, but she didn't want to reveal her inner troubles, least of all to him. He wouldn't understand.

Nesta was proud of how far she'd come, but this feeling... this burning and restless feeling inside of her made her conflicted.

She was trying her best to pretend that she was okay, but it seemed that only Cassian knew it was all an act. They had countless arguments over it, resulting them to take a break from one another, sleeping in separate rooms.

Nesta should have felt guilty leaving her almost-mate in their bedroom alone, but she didn't. Instead, she felt more relieved than anything. She was alone with her thoughts, calming herself down in the silence, hearing the flames crackle in the hearth of the fireplace.

Hearing those crackles used to remind her of her father's neck breaking, but now... it reminded her of the Heir to Autumn, remembering how he summoned his ember flames into existence. She remembered how he admired them, twisting his hand around to see the flames dance before extinguishing them.

Nesta wondered what would happen if her flames touched his, if their palms touched while their fires collided.

The thought made her heart beat fast, making her take a deep breath. She stared up to the moon, seeing the stars gleam as they did every night. It reflected upon the surface of the ocean, bringing a certain brightness that made her squint.

She brought her hand before her eyes, summoning her silver flames with a silent command. She watched as it roared to life, twisting her hand to admire it as Eris had done with his.

Her ability hadn't vanished entirely after what happened in Feyre's birth, but it was weakened. She wasn't able to keep it on for long, feeling her own energy deplete as the seconds passed by. She willed it to stay, begged for it to come back.

Nesta didn't care if she was death itself anymore. She just wanted what belonged to her. It was her power and she didn't want to give it up, no matter what anyone else thought of it.

But before the fire dwindled into nothing, Nesta whispered the name of the male who had been occupying her thoughts for a while.

Eris.

Then the flames went out... but ember ones appeared feet away on the shoreline, wrapping up high before revealing the Heir to Autumn himself.

Nesta stood from the sand, staring at Eris in bewilderment.

How could he have heard her? How was it possible?

Eris Vanserra stepped closer to Nesta, taking in her haggard appearance, eyeing her up and down. He huffed a laugh, saying nothing.

Nesta knew she didn't look like she was in the best mental or physical state, mainly because she wasn't. She hadn’t been for a few months now. She was confused and conflicted, not knowing where she belonged anymore.

But when she saw Eris’s flames… it seemed as if her own were reaching out to him, wanting them to collide.

Eris smirked at her, taking in her appearance, “You summoned me, my phoenix?” He asked her, his amber eyes gleaming in the moonlight.

Nesta lets out a breath, keeping her eyes on him, “I am nothing of yours. How did you hear me? My flames... they couldn't possibly..." She trails off, looking down at her hands, wondering if his and her flames were connected somehow. It didn't make sense to her.

Eris chuckles, his boots pressing against the sand with every step, "Ah, but you called me nonetheless, my phoenix. What I'd like to know is... why?" He asks her, standing right before her.

She stares up at him, seeing his gleaming amber eyes. She was attracted to him, more than she'd like to admit. There was just something about him... something that intrigued her, that made her heart skip a beat.

"I'm not sure. Your name was the first that popped into my mind. I guess I was just... lonely. I'm confused." She says to him in a low voice, looking out towards the sea, watching as the water comes close to her feet but never reaching her.

Eris stares down at her, "Mmm, has something happened?" He asks her, his question genuine, filled with light concern. Nesta wondered if he actually cared about her and her problems. She wouldn't really share them with anyone anymore, especially since the relationships with her sisters had dimmed and her "mate" was annoyed with her secrets.

Nesta shrugs, "After everything I've been through, I thought I knew where I belonged. I thought that I had finally found peace within myself... but I haven't. There's still a void in me. It feels like my flames need me to do something, but I don't know what. I don't... I don't..." She trails off once more, taking a deep breath.

Eris raises a finger to her cheek, stroking it lightly, "Let me see your flames, my phoenix. Show them to me." He whispers to her, his eyes always remaining on her, like he was entranced.

She turns back to him, leaning into his touch, "They aren't strong anymore. When I saved Feyre and Nyx, I told the Cauldron that it could have it-"

He interrupts her, "I don't care about your family. Only you. Now show it to me. Show me your flames. It doesn't matter how weak they are. They are still there, still present within you." He whispers, his hand on her cheek.

Nesta doesn't mind his touch one bit. In fact, it made her heart swell, filling her with warmth and comfort. She trusted him more than she trusted her own family, seeing the truth behind his eyes. He laid himself out before her without even knowing it and she supposed she did the same.

She listened to Eris, summoning her weak silver flame in the palm of her hand. She looked down at it, her eyes sad. Even though she had stole the power from the Cauldron, it was something that had become part of her, wishing she had more time to explore the raw power.

Eris summons his own flames, the orange hue brightening between them. He places his hand in hers, their flames combining and fingers entwining. Her silver flames became brighter as well, raging as his flames were against her.

Nesta smiles softly, "There it is. That's how they were before." She breathes, unable to take her eyes off her flames, watching it fight against his orange flames, which burned brighter than hers.

Eris nods, looking at their entwined hands, "Their beautiful... too beautiful to be snuffed out. They deserve to be set free, to be witness by all. If you keep igniting them, they'll eventually come back. Don't get rid of your flames." He says, looking down at her once more.

Nesta meets his eyes, "I don't want them to be snuffed out. I want them to be strong. I want them again. I just don't know... I don't know if my family would be okay with it, if they'll be scared of me." She tells him, her eyes filling with tears. She was at her most vulnerable, but she didn't care. This male before her... she wanted him to see it.

Eris gives her a small smile, putting his forehead against hers, "Let them be scared of you. Let them judge you. Let them hate you. But don't let them take away what's yours, what you want the most. Keep your power. It only belongs to you. It is apart of you." He whispers, their noises rubbing lightly.

Nesta swallows, closing her eyes. Her heart was beating fast as their foreheads touched, making her mind run wild. She could feel this connection with him, one that ran deep within her veins. Their flaming hands were still entwined, silver and orange combined and raging like never before.

"What are you to me?" She breathes, needing an answer to the question. She had to know why they connected so well, why their paths crossed. She was supposed to hate him, but she felt nothing but pureness for him... like he was what she truly wanted.

Eris huffs a small laugh, "I wish I could answer that, my phoenix. But what I do know is," his lips kiss the corner of her mouth, "you have become important to me. You are what I truly want. There is nothing else that captures my eyes like you do." He says to her, taking in her scent.

Nesta opens her eyes, staring into his once again, "This isn't supposed to happen. Cassian is my mate. He is the one who... who is... you and I... we can't..." She stutters, not knowing what to believe anymore. Her heart was calling out to someone else.

But it wasn't her mate.

Eris sighs, taking himself away from her, their hands no longer entwined, "I forget that you are mated to that brute. He still doesn't deserve you, but then again... neither do I. No one deserves you. Absolutely no one." He says, staring down at her lips.

Nesta missed his warmth, wanting him against her again, to feel his touch again. She stepped towards him, "But you are the only one who understands me better than anyone else. No one else knows me like you do. You're connected to me. That's all I ever wanted. I wanted someone to see me and I know that it's you." She breathes, placing a hand on his cheek, taking in his every feature.

He had to be it. He had to be the answer to fill the void in her soul. Their connection ran deep, raging like their flames. He is everything she had asked for her entire life, staring at him with knowing.

None of it mattered. Her family. Her friends. Her mate.

Absolutely nothing.

She had everything standing right before her, the only thing that she had ever wanted...

And she was determined to keep him.

#neris #nesta archeron #eris vanserra #anti nessian

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crossfandomslut · 5 days

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Okay, my first post ever !! I am not much of a writer, but I'd be willing to try if enough people are into it ! I have had this idea in my head for a long, long time, for an Eris×reader fic where Reader is Feyres fraternal twin. Growing up, y/n was always sitting in front of the fireplace in that shitty little cottage, helping Feyre cook the meat they hunted together and basically just loves the flames and the warmth and how it has helped kept them alive and keep light in their home. So, I have a ton of scenes planned out starting around when Feyre and company show up at the sisters house to ask about the mortal queens meeting, but I'll skip ahead to the Eris-y part ! I don't want to reveal what I think y/n's powers gifted from the Cauldron are, but they compliment Eris's very well ;) so skipping all the big scenes we get to after Feyre is back from the Spring Court and the IC is making a trip to Hewn City (barf). Eris is there and decides he wants a dance with y/n. Y/n was there the day that Cass and Az rescued Feyre and Lucien on the frozen lake, so Eris is already not on good ground with y/n. He asks, "Why do you detest me so, little dove?" And she says,"You mean besides the fact that you tried to kill my sister?" "Yes. Besides that," he says smugly. Still dancing elegantly, not missing a beat, y/n says, "You use your gift of fire to hurt people. You use the flame to inflict pain and harm." He scoffs, but she keeps going. "Fire is not meant to cause pain." She says, and he almost trips over his feet at the words. But again, she continues, " Fire is beautiful and lovely and soft and warm. Fire is nurturing, and life bringing. Fire is gentle and protective. How dare you turn it into a weapon?" She's been talking so fast, getting so worked up, she hadn't noticed that he stopped moving. Her along with him. And now that she was focused again, she looked into his amber eyes and saw him just gaping at her with a slight blush spread across his cheeks. "Eris...?" Y/n tentatively says his name. "Excuse me-" He says quickly and turns on his heal to rush to the nearest exit. Y/n is shocked but slowly turns and walks back to the dias. Looking up at the inner circle, she sees them all trying to hide their smirks and snickers. "What?" Y/n asks, feeling lost. "What did you say to him?" Feyre can't hold the smile in anymore, and she laughs thinking of whatever her sister could have said to make the Autumn Heir respond the way he did.

#eris acotar #eris vandaddy #eris vanserra #eris x reader #eris x y/n #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #autumn court #inner circle #feyre acotar #rhys acotar #azriel #cassian #nesta archeron #feyre archeron

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whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk · 1 year

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The Gold in the Flame (Burns Brighter Now)

For @nestaarcheronweek day 2: Sharp. Nesta had always been too sharp for their liking-- for her sister and Rhysand's Inner Circle. But during the Solstice celebrations at the Hewn City, Nesta dances with Eris in Feyre's place and learns that, perhaps, being sharp isn't always a bad thing. (Title taken from the Architects song Doomsday) (ao3)

It was just one more thing they had taken.

One more piece of herself given over, one more thing snatched away.

And as she stood at the base of her sister’s throne, Nesta Archeron could do nothing but watch as the dagger she had crafted was presented to another as a gift. As if it wasn’t hers, as if it never had been.

Given away— it was just… given away.

Nesta watched as Rhysand spun some pretty little lie about how he’d had it tucked away all this time, but Nesta could still feel the hilt of that dagger in her hand as she hammered the blade. She could feel the heat of the forge, the power running through her and into the steel, her body a conduit, singing as the edge honed itself beneath her fire.

Hers. It was hers, and yet it lay in the hands of another.

Rhysand steadily tapped his fingers against the curved arm of his throne, the only display of displeasure he would allow himself, it seemed. Each drum of his fingertips seemed to echo, to sound against all that rough-cut stone and polished marble, but as Eris took the box containing her dagger, Rhysand’s smile did not falter. It was all teeth and false pleasantries, and Nesta didn’t fail to notice that Eris did not bow before those midnight thrones. He didn’t do more than dip his chin, and Rhysand’s smile grew tighter.

Eris held the black box with the carved lid, cradling it between his pale, elegant fingers. His courtier’s brow furrowed, his eyes narrowing at the corners, as if whatever tale Rhysand had told, Eris didn’t buy it for a moment.

Good, Nesta thought as she forced her eyes forward, feeling smothered by the rock as the Court of Nightmares pressed down upon her, heavy and oppressive. The fire in her chest was all but banked, all but reduced to ashes, and though she wanted to burn and burn and burn at the sight of the dagger she had made being plucked from her hands and handed to another…

She didn’t have it in her.

They had taken that, too.

As Eris and Rhysand bandied words, Nesta slid her eyes to her sister. Feyre rested a hand on her swollen belly, watching the exchange between the Lord of Night and the Prince of Autumn, but she did nothing - nothing - to take back the box that lay in Eris’ hands.

He frowned once more as he glanced down at that night-dark box balanced in his fingers, as if he could sense the kernel of Nesta’s fire still breathing through the steel.

With a snap, he closed the lid of the box.

And standing in the black dress that they had told her to wear, keeping her face carefully blank, Nesta waited for Feyre to invite Eris to dance and offer him Nesta’s hand instead of her own.

Just as they had planned.

Just as they had decided, before even asking if she would take part in this little tableaux of false courtesy. Rhysand wanted her to dance with Eris, to entice him and seduce him— to buy his loyalty, and even though the High Lord had posed it as a request, Nesta wasn’t stupid enough to believe she had any real choice in the matter.

The only choices she’d ever been offered were entirely illusory, and now her sister and her brother-in-law wanted to dangle her in front of Eris like a shiny new toy, expecting her to move with the current, to let herself be pulled along in whichever direction they set.

Because they wanted her dull, like an old blade. All her edges worn to nothing, safe and soft and dull.

She knew that now— had known it since she first woke beneath a Night Court sky.

They wanted her to be more amicable.

More palatable.

More amenable.

But Nesta was not born to be dulled, to be muted. She was sharp, sharp enough to wound and draw blood, and in a cruel world she had only learned to be crueller, to keep her edges in order to keep her safe.

The dagger in Eris’ hands was proof enough of that.

As a bitter, familiar kind of indignation worked its way through Nesta’s veins, Feyre let her fingers drift across her stomach, lacing her fingers above the babe that endangered her life. Nesta felt her lips twitch downwards, felt anger threaten to bloom. Rhysand looked at Feyre’s crossed fingers, placing a hand of his own atop. Feyre said the words they had rehearsed - ordinarily I would ask you to dance but… my oldest sister will take my place - and Nesta felt the fire in her blood begin to wake.

Rhysand’s mask slipped.

For half a heartbeat he studied Eris with disdain, his tight smile falling away. Even had Feyre not been heavy with child, Nesta doubted the High Lord would ever have granted Eris a dance with her. After all, wasn’t it easier to throw Nesta to the wolves? Wouldn’t she always be the one they were willing to sacrifice? Hadn’t the war taught her that?

The Autumn Court heir tilted his head now, auburn hair shining in the low faelight as his gaze shifted to her. His lips were stained crimson from the wine, his dark eyes focused and sliding over the cut of the dress that dipped too far below her collarbone for comfort. His lips parted, revealing a hint of teeth, something sharp and predatory as he nodded briskly to Feyre and extended an arm.

Something in her shifted, turned as she stepped forward.

He was swathed in black too, looking just as fine and as elegant as she did, but Nesta wondered if he felt as out of place in the sea of black as she. If he was wearing the colour out of obligation too, rather than choice. As she took his arm, Eris flicked his eyes down to the cuff of his obsidian sleeve and with the slight downturn of his lips, she knew without question that the answer was yes.

And she didn’t know why, but that made something inside her continue to shift. She had been told to expect the worst from this dance, as if it were something to be endured and suffered, and yet as Eris winked at her, leading her to the dance floor, she felt a little piece of herself growing sharp again, like a blade against a whetstone. When the Autumn prince touched her, his skin brushing hers, Nesta felt the flames inside her jerk, startled into sudden, intense awareness— and that piece insider her grew bolder, grew larger.

Grew sharper.

***

The dance had a singular purpose. Nesta knew that.

Rhysand had been exceedingly clear about that. She was to dance with Eris, to blink and flirt and extend her hand and string him along with the rest of them. She was supposed to keep him on side, to offer herself up to him as a token.

She wasn’t supposed to enjoy it.

But there were drums and violins and music— loud, loud music that washed over her and oh, she had missed music. She had missed the chaos and the noise of a dance floor, missed the way the beat flowed through her like water. All those weeks spent locked away in the House of Wind had her reaching desperately for the melody now, wondering if they would have let her dance if she hadn’t been Eris’ lure for the night. She suspected not, and so she resolved to make the most of this, to throw herself into the fray and hope that Eris could keep up.

“I’m glad,” he said in a low voice, breaking the silence between them as he lifted an arm to spin her. He knew the steps to this dance as well as she did, and that made something like satisfaction slick through her. “That it was you your sister elected in her stead.”

Nesta blinked, a baleful smile rising to the lips Mor had insisted on painted red. “Oh?”

Eris didn’t take his eyes off her, his hand rounding her waist as the weight of his palm curved at her middle. She swore she could see fire dancing in his eyes, embers crackling as he pulled her closer to him. He lead the dance more easily than she’d expected, and it was a pleasant surprise— he was a better dancer than anyone she’d ever found herself partnered with, the first to ever equal her in skill.

“Elain is sweet, I’m sure,” he shrugged, his feet moving effortlessly, smoothly in time with the drums. “But not half as interesting as you.”

“I could have your head for insulting my sister,” Nesta said dryly, but Eris’ face only split into a wicked grin, his fingers gripping her more firmly as the spark in his eyes grew more daring.

“I’m sure you could,” he answered lowly, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth and he dragged his gaze over her neck, down her collarbone, following the low cut of the dress her sister had picked out. “But I meant no offence. Elain is simply too… delicate for me.”

Nesta’s eyes snapped to his, something between them growing tight, frantic and charged as she blinked. One of his hands slipped between hers as the dance shifted and Nesta took her earlier thought back— he didn’t know the steps as well as she did. He knew them better. Knew them intimately, and as his palm touched hers, she felt the flames inside her titter— stretching, bracing.

“And I’m not?” she challenged.

Those wine-dark lips pulled up at one corner. “No,” he answered in a voice filled to the brim with appreciation. “If there is one thing you are not, Nesta Archeron, it is delicate.”

He raised his hand, spinning her beneath the bridge formed of their arms, connected by their woven fingers. The curving of his lips wasn’t easy or free, but it was a smile nonetheless— one that was heavy and dark and held something like promise within. His auburn hair shifted over his shoulder as he moved, smooth and soft, and Nesta wondered suddenly what it would feel like to drag her fingers through those strands, to feel them slipping between her knuckles. The fire inside her was kindled, beginning to build, and as Eris reeled her back in, she felt something inside her resonate, like there was something familiar in the Autumn heir, something that called to her.

“I was always too… sharp for their liking,” Nesta said with a shrug, the words leaving her before she had time to think them through.

Eris hummed as he drew her closer, and even though it was only because the steps demanded it - even though every other couple on that dance floor made of stone mirrored the move - Nesta couldn’t help but feel it was something more than a piece of choreography, more than a move he made just because he needed to.

“I like sharp things,” he murmured, his lips close to her ear. She felt the heat of his breath on her neck. “And don’t think I don’t know what this is— what Rhysand thinks he’s doing by offering you to me on a string. He thinks he’s subtle, but he’s not. So they offer me a blade, and a dance with you in the hope that I become just another one of those bowing before those thrones.”

He nodded over her shoulder, dipping his chin as his mouth moved back to her ear, his voice low and dark and yet smooth, so smooth that it slipped across her senses, blending seamlessly with the way he moved, the way he turned her and spun her and brought her back to his chest.

“So my question is,” he continued as the steps moved along, grew faster and more insistent. “Who are they dulling you for?”

“Excuse me?” Nesta asked, moving away as he raised their linked hands above her head once more, allowing her to spin once, twice.

“Well, I assumed that all of this was an attempt at winning me over.” He nodded to the dress, to her painted lips. “And it’s so very close to working, pet, but it’s not you, is it? You forget that I was there at that High Lords meeting, when you reminded my father of what you can do with a blade. You’re not the type to bite your tongue and do as they bid. I like sharp things, and since their gift to me is a remarkably fine blade, I’d wager they know that all too well. So if they’re not dulling you for me, love, then who are they dulling you for?

Nesta huffed a breath, even as his words found their mark, hitting her square in the chest and making a hollow feeling spread behind her ribs.

“You think you know me so well,” she said blandly, blinking in disinterest as his lips moved closer, brushing the skin at her jaw as his breath danced across her neck.

“Better than you think.”

She was silent, feeling the hand at her waist steer her as she looked across the cavernous room and found her sister watching her, placed on that dark throne exactly where Rhysand wanted her. Nesta felt her mouth grow dry, felt the fire in her chest grow more insistent, ignited by the Autumn prince— stirred by him, his words.

And all she could think to say was—

“They offered you my blade.”

“Did they really?” Eris asked, his tone wickedly dark, sarcasm dripping so thick it was a wonder he could even lift his tongue. He added a mock gasp, a scandalised lift of his brows, and whatever reaction Nesta had been expecting… It wasn’t that.

“I know,” he continued with a low hum. “I could feel the flame in it. Feel you, like a fingerprint left behind in the steel.” He exhaled deeply, looking at her with a gaze so weighted Nesta didn’t know how to react. He had seen her, recognised a part of her in that dagger, even though they were hardly more than strangers. “It is magnificent.”

“Well,” she said tartly. “You’re welcome.”

He tilted his head as they rounded one another, his hand lifting hers until it hung in the air between them, the back of her hand almost pressed against her cheek.

“Oh, I haven’t decided if I’m going to accept it yet,” he said with a shrug. “I’ve half a mind to ask them for something else instead.”

“Like what?”

“You, pet.”

Nesta blinked. “Is that a proposal? Because if it is, it might just be the worst I’ve ever had.”

He smirked, moving her around the dance floor with steps so smooth and even that Nesta could hardly even tell he was leading, so effortless were his movements. “Have you had many, then?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Eris barked a laugh, one that seemed genuine despite the circumstances. It surprised her, and she felt a small smile tugging at her own lips as Eris cast her out to spin her again, his hand holding her steady as she lifted onto her tip-toes. After the third spin, she knew she ought to have come back down, be drawn back into his arms, but his fingers tightened around her own in a silent gesture that seemed to let her know, somehow, that if she wanted to spin more…

He could take it.

He had her.

And when she was done, her head dizzied and her breath coming in gasps, she felt that smile on her face threaten to bloom. Eris smiled too, all teeth and wicked sin.

“Or I could take the dagger,” he said lightly, his hand finding a path back to her waist, his fingers rounding her until they brushed the bottom of her spine. “And give it back to you as a wedding gift.”

“You’re going to make a gift out of something that is rightfully mine?”

Eris smirked again, and the fire in Nesta’s chest grew hotter, embers surging. He winked, and Nesta wondered if he could sense it— if the fire in her called to the fire in him, if her silver flames and his golden ones were complementary to one another, like the finest of wines.

“Oh, no.” His eyes flicked up to the dais, to where Rhysand and her sister still sat watching, but Nesta found herself ignoring them, reducing them to little more than shadows at the corner of her eye. “I’ll give you anything you want. The dagger is merely a precursor.”

“I haven’t accepted you yet.”

“Ah, but you haven’t rejected me yet either,” Eris purred.

And for a moment there was silence between them, filled with nothing but the sound of the music. For a moment Nesta let herself dance, following the steps to the letter, but when Eris extended his arm, throwing her out for a spin that wasn’t planned and wasn’t scripted, she felt the breath lodge in her throat, a thrill crawling through her veins as he seemed to sense what she wanted, what she needed.

“Maybe I won’t,” she said idly as she spun. “Maybe the Autumn Court would suit me better than Night has.”

Eris grinned as he brought her back to him, both of his hands resting on her waist now. She placed hers lightly on his shoulders, feeling the fabric beneath her hands rich and thick. He hummed again, and this time she felt it rumble through his chest and into her own.

“Come and play with the other sharp things, pet,” he murmured. “The other creatures with fire in their blood.”

There was another pause, one where he looked down, taking in her dress crafted from midnight silk. His lip twisted, eyes narrowing, as though he longed to see her in something other than black. Nesta looked at his velvet jacket, how it swallowed the bright auburn of his hair, dulling it as much as it dulled her. She felt the crackle at her fingertips, felt her palms heat, and almost pulled away for fear of singing the ends of Eris’ hair.

Using one hand, Eris placed his long fingers atop hers, keeping her palm pressed against his shoulder.

“I could teach you to use it, you know,” he said. “Not hide it. Not suppress it. Harness it.”

As if to prove his point, he lifted his hand from atop hers and held it between them, in the inch of space between his body and hers. He twisted his fingers, conjuring a small flame that balanced in his palm and danced over his skin— a part of him, the heat licking over his knuckles and weaving between his fingers as he turned his hand in a single smooth movement.

The fire in Nesta’s own blood continued to rise, as if his was calling to her, coaxing something deep inside her to answer. Her embers awakened fully as Eris’ flame played between his fingers, and she felt it, the silver flames cracking an eye open in the darkness, in the void within her chest.

“They’re afraid of you pet,” he whispered conspiratorially. “Of what you could do. That’s why they’ve kept you hidden away. Why they insist you fight with blades and fists instead of what you already have.”

He laughed— an incredulous, bitter sound as he tilted his head, letting his small flame climb all the way to the tips of his fingers. Nesta didn’t know how Eris knew about the training, but it didn’t matter. She didn’t quite care, not when she could feel the heat building in her veins, and for the first time she didn’t try to push it down, didn’t try to swallow it to her own destruction.

“You don’t need to be taught to fight like an Illyrian,” he continued, lips tugging downwards with disapproval. “You have fire. It could make you formidable, could bring them to their knees and they know it.”

He reached out to brush his warm fingers against her cheek, but that flame still burned, and as the fire kissed her skin… Nesta expected to feel a burn, a sharp bite of pain. But she felt nothing but warmth, easy and pleasant, and Eris smirked in approval as his flame met her skin.

“Fire doesn’t bend to darkness, pet. It swallows it.”

Nesta was silent, noting how their steps had slowed. They were only barely dancing now, with her hands on his shoulders and one of his at her middle, swaying her in time to the music, but Nesta’s heart was pounding, burning, a heat spreading through her that promised her she’d never feel the cold again.

“Your power is unrivalled,” Eris murmured now, extinguishing the flame dancing on his fingers and brushing his warm hand against her cheek once more. “I can sense it. My flames can sense it. Don’t you see? Can’t you feel it?”

He tilted his head like a wicked, wicked fox— but Nesta didn’t feel like a rabbit, not even when his lips curved into a smile that was all teeth. No, Nesta felt the fire beneath her flesh answering his call, and thought of how his flames hadn’t burned her.

And she could— she could feel the warmth of his hand against her, burning, and beneath it she could feel the fire in his blood blazing like hers. Like calls to like, Feyre sometimes said, and Nesta understood it now, feeling the echo of her power thrumming between them, finding a twin inside the fae who used fire to crown his fingertips.

“Well,” she said after a long, long moment. “Perhaps I will accept your offer.”

“Of training or of marriage?” he asked with a quirk of an eyebrow, another kick of his lips up into a devious, delectable smirk.

Nesta shrugged as she glanced towards that dais. To her sister and her brother-in-law and the warrior they wanted her to dull herself for. She swallowed, knowing somehow that no matter what she did, it would never be enough. She was too sharp, too mercurial, too fiery to slide easily amongst them. And as Eris spun her out once more, she felt the weight of a decision settle in her chest, welcomed by the flame that had taken up residence there.

And when he brought her back, as the music died at last, Nesta leaned close to the fae made of fire and heat and smoke and said,

“Take me back to Autumn with you.”

#NestaWeek2023 #Neris

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climbthemountain2020 · 2 months

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Flame of Autumn - Chapter 2

Part 3/25 Also on Ao3!

*Mild TW for extremely brief violence.*

Eris

He hated the Hewn City. And more than that, he hated the fucking Night Court. Rhysand and his worthless “inner circle” as he dubbed them. Pretentious assholes who paraded around like they were better than everyone else, despite leaving their very court to its own ruinous spirit.

Of course, Eris made the effort to be cordial, if not somewhat aloof. Sometimes. Eris knew the importance of keeping Rhys and his bat collection in his favor. Their alliance, though fraught with taunting and toeing the line, was vital to him one day overthrowing Beron and becoming High Lord. Truthfully, he could admit to himself and only himself that he was somewhat jealous of Rhysand.

Eris knew that Rhysand wore the same mask he did. A cool, cruel demeanor allowed him to keep things in check, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that the High Lord of Night was not that way with his family. Eris could see what his life might have been like if he had people he truly trusted, a family who loved him. He shook the thought out of his head as that trained voice taunted him: No weakness. No consequences.

He straightened his coat a final time as he waited in the stone-walled room for Rhysand and his party to arrive. It wouldn’t do to have him thinking such thoughts once they arrived. Though his mental shields had been honed for hundreds of years, Rhysand could easily tear them apart if he felt particularly cruel. Best to not tempt fate with any sort of redeeming thoughts about the great bat and his gang of merry followers.

He rapped his long fingers against the table in front of him, and only years of training his reactions stopped him from flinching when the massive stone doors abruptly burst open.

Always so theatrical.

Rhysand arrived with Feyre, Cassian, and Azriel in tow. No Morrigan. Not unexpected. Perhaps she’d still tell them one day of the truth behind their encounters, but until she was ready to face that truth herself, he would play the villain. He was a natural.

“So Eris, I hear congratulations are in order.”

How in the fucking cauldron could news have possibly already traveled here? Inwardly he rolled his eyes and outwardly he projected a bored demeanor.

“For?” He refused to give an inch, ever, where the Night Court was concerned.

“We hear a wedding is coming up. A lovely Autumn bride for the fireling.” It appeared Rhysand and Feyre had not told their warriors. They worked quickly to school their shock, but Eris registered it anyway.

“Yes, I’m told she’s wonderful. About the reason I am here today–”

“What? Not excited for your own wedding, Eris? I would think this betrothal is already going much better than your last.” He fought to not grind his teeth, and he watched Azriel tense visibly across the table. So, no truth yet, then.

“My betrothal is going fine. I am not here about that.”

Cassian smiled. “You were certainly willing when you were propositioning my mate.”

Gods, were they ever going to let this go?

“As I have said before, and will say again, I saw her power, and I thought it would be usefully honed in Autumn. I have offered my congratulations to you many times since.” He projected as much exhaustion with the topic as he could into his voice.

More like I saw that your High Lord would mistreat her then hone her into a weapon, but I digress. Seems to have worked out fine.

“I’ve found traces of stores of what appear to be faebane in the oceanside manor.” This stopped them. He had known it would. “The stores were no longer present, but they left behind traces of the stone used for shackles and the powder dusted on arrows as were used in the war with Hybern. I don’t have any ideas where they might have been moved to, but I haven’t seen traces of them within the Forest House.”

The males nodded, then Feyre spoke up. “Do you think Beron is hoarding them with a purpose in mind? His own safety, or an attack on others?”

“My guess would be that he is keeping them to keep tabs on them, as he does all of his belongings. I think if he wanted to use them, or had any use for them, he would have already done so. I would wager he thinks if he keeps them close, that no one can use them against him.” Feyre nodded.

“You’ll keep tracking them and let us know if and where they resurface?” He nodded. He far preferred working with Feyre. Despite their history, she had softened to him after the war, after becoming a mother.

She was young, but practical. She displayed a haughty aura in situations that called for it, but she wasn’t unnecessarily cruel in the way Rhysand could often be. He respected her more for the things she’d been through, even as a human.

“I will. Are there plans in place yet for an attack on Beron?”

Rhysand responded this time. “Our spies tell us that this is not an ideal time for an attack. I must agree. If he is staying close to the Forest House and hoarding faebane, it would be prudent to wait until circumstances change to move forward with any planning.” Eris tried not to deflate visibly. It was the same every time for the past few years. One step forward, two steps back. He took the opportunity to stand.

“In that case, that concludes my business here.” Rhysand stood and smirked at him wickedly.

“See you at the wedding, fireling.”

Matilda

This region of Autumn was stunning, the leaves changing like fires racing through the trees as they passed in the carriage. The ride had been very bumpy, so she hadn’t been able to sleep. Not that she’d felt comfortable enough with her uncle to sleep near him anyway. She wished she’d been able to stow away a weapon or two for her journey. Indeed, she’d planned to, but the servants burst in before dawn’s first light today to shove her into embroidered dresses and rip at her hair until it sat in a coronet upon her head.

She sighed lightly as she looked again at the passing scenery. At least she would be seeing new parts of Autumn. She hadn’t been to the Forest House since she was very young, perhaps in her late teens. She remembered the gaggle of rowdy redheaded boys, all roughly around her age and younger, and the sad, eternal eyes of the Lady of Autumn. She recalled with vivid clarity the savage and cold face of Beron Vanserra.

“You’ll be on your own tonight. I will be expected to eat with the family of the High Lord, and you won’t be welcome.” She snorted.

“A female? Unwelcome in Autumn? How unexpected.” His hand shot out to slap her and she reared back, still unfamiliar even after two years with a male raising his hands to her.

“Enough of that, you wretch. You’d better get your tongue in check before you enter the Forest House. Eris and any other member of the family will have you killed for speaking in such a way.”

“Why will it matter to you?” She sneered. “You’ll have your coin and be gone, spending my father’s money.” For a second he looked like he might hit her again, but instead he settled for calling her an ungrateful bitch beneath his breath and turning back to look at his letters.

“Once I am gone, you’ll have no one to protect you.” She fought every single impulse to roll her eyes at her uncle’s feeble claim to have ever protected her from anything. “You’d better hope you can spread your legs and produce an heir with your mouth shut. Otherwise, I’m sure Beron will find a more suitable use for you.”

She winced at the implication. She knew she needed to rein it in before arriving. She truly was being dumped into a den of snakes, and she easily could be killed for a slip of the tongue.

She looked back to the beautiful woods.

I wonder if I might be able to wander the woods here. Will he even let me outdoors?

She let her thoughts wander again to what he might be like.

Would they share a bed? Would he hit her? Ignore her? Pretend she didn’t exist at all?

She had the vaguest recollection of Eris from her visit long ago. He’d been impeccably mannered and quiet for the shortest bit of time he was even there, and then he had been sent off only a day into her trip. While the other boys had been running wild, Eris had sat at the table and displayed incredible etiquette for a fae of no more than twenty. He’d walked with an almost undetectable limp, and she remembered that his hair was a beautiful shade of Autumn red–she’d even been jealous of the wine red color against her auburn orange.

She wondered if he might have grown to be handsome, or if he would now bear the vicious features of Beron as an adult.

As she rested her head against the window to watch the passing trees, she couldn’t get the haunted eyes of the Lady of Autumn, shining starkly in her memories, out of her mind.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #eris x oc #eris vanserra #eris acotar #vanserra brothers #flame of autumn #arranged marriage #allies to lovers

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wishfulwithwine · 1 year

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Twin Flames : Chapter Six

Eris Vanserra x Archeron Sister Reader

“You are a peace and a flame, you steady me and stir me all at once” - butterflies rising

“I don’t want to just love you. I want our souls to merge and burn brighter than any star found in this universe” - Lola Lawrence

The youngest Archeron sister, loved and protected by all her sisters and the Inner Circle, is mated to the hated heir of the Autumn Court. Will they find peace, or burn in the flames?

Warnings: series will have cursing, smut, violence, ptsd, alcohol, and other possible triggers. PLEASE DO NOT READ IF MINOR. 18+ ONLY

Series Masterlist

(photo from @octobers-veryown )

All you could do was wait and pace. Wait and sit. Wait and read. Wait and cook. Wait and read.

It felt like time was on a never ending loop of waiting.

As soon as your “mating week” with Eris ended - a passionate, exhausting, love-filled week - Eris was pulled immediately with his father and brothers for the war with Hybern. The immediate aloneness after such an affectionate week was harsh on your emotions. A complete whiplash of feelings, and still new to Autumn Court, you were grateful that at least the Lady of Autumn, Serah, was a comforting presence and wished to know as much as she could about the woman who married her son.

Everyday since Eris left for the war, he’d pull on your bond as many times as he could to make sure you were ok. Temporarily, you moved into the castle with her, to keep her company as well as it was the safest for both of you.

It also helped ease your fears, when he pulled on the bond, so you know he was alive. You’d tell him you loved him, and send your warmth and love through the bond. The heightened emotions of the mating week to not seeing your husband at all had your heart anxiously awaiting his return. Your feelings sometimes felt like they were in a blender, attempting to be patient.

He could feel your worry sometimes, a slight twinge on the outer edges of your feelings. He was ready to go home, but Eris couldn’t… until it was over.

“How are you feeling today?” Serah, the Lady of Autumn asked, coming into the library where you sat on one of the chairs, snuggled under a thick blanket and a book. You smiled at her, as she sat down on the couch next to you. A servant followed her, carrying a tray of tea and some cinnamon treats.

“Better. Can’t wait till Eris gets back though. How are you?” You replied, as the servant poured each of you a cup of tea. You eagerly accepted the warm drink, accepting the comfort of the little things.

“Good, although I can only imagine your feelings. Separated just after mating week with your mate? How many times has my son pulled on your bond?” She joked, and you giggled.

“I lose track, but it’s comforting knowing he’s still alive, especially since I can’t be there with him” You said, and she nodded.

“Yes, but from what some of the letters I’ve received, they all should be home shortly. You must be excited to tell him, or have you already?” Serah said, with a twinkle in her eye, shifting her eyes to your belly.

“Y/N! Are you alright in there?” Serah asked, after you had sprinted to the bathroom in the middle of eating.

“I’m - * barf * I’ll be fine” You said, clutching the bowl as you prayed the nausea to go away. Your side of the bond was closed off, making sure Eris wouldn’t feel your sickness.

“This is the third day of this. I’m getting our healer” Serah said concerned, bringing you to a couch when you were able to leave the restroom. You nodded, in no shape to argue with your mother-in-law.

“Hello, Mrs. Vanserra. I hear you’re feeling nauseous for a few days now?” The healer, Ygritte, said, as she came and analyzed your body with her magic.

“Please, call me Y/N. Yes, dizzy and light headed too, but I just figured that was because of the stress with Eris being away so quickly after mating” You said, as Serah stood close by, watching Ygritte.There wasn’t anyone else in the room, but there were guards outside the door.

“Well, it’s not a stomach bug or bad food, it seems like. You seem very healthy… oh. Oh! Congratulations, Y/N. You’re pregnant” Ygritte said with a smile.

“No, I want to tell him in person. I just wish I knew when he was coming so I could make something to announce to him with, like the Autumn Court pie. Or buy some little baby clothes to tell him” You said, rubbing your belly.

“Oh that would be precious! We can definitely make the pie for him when we get home, but the shopping will have to wait. When I was pregnant with Eris, Beron and I found out together. We were trying and I was visiting Ygritte everyday to see. Beron was very excited to start having a family” Serah said, and you could tell with the way parts of her face pinched, that she was trying to tell the happy version of the story. Without Beron here, Serah expressed herself more. You could feel her be more comfortable in the surroundings, despite living here for hundreds of years.

“I always pictured being pregnant and how I would find out, and to be honest, I never pictured this” You chuckled, with a smile.

“I forget that you are not originally fae. I understand the… process… was terrible, do you miss being a human?” Serah asked, and you shook your head.

“I don’t, honestly. I… I get nightmares often about what Hybern did to me, did to my sisters and I, but with Eris, all I’ve found is joy and happiness. I miss my sisters, but when we were human, we were so poor, I had two jobs, with less than hour or two between them to make some money so we could eat. It was… awful” You said, and Serah smiled.

“I had two sisters as well. I can only imagine how you feel being separated from them” Serah said, comfortingly, bringing her hand to cover yours.

“I love them, but this is my family now” You replied, and Serah squeezed your hand with a smile.

“Of course we are. I can’t believe I’ll be a grandmother” She said, smiling widely as she gazed at where your hands were placed on your stomach.

The news of your pregnancy had brought her immense joy, and although you were waiting to tell more people until Eris came home, she whispered to you plans for them. Excited was an understatement - especially when she would talk about her plans for the parties and reconstruction of the castle.

“Lady of Autumn, Lady Y/N Vanserra, High Lord Beron and sons are on their way home” the guard announced, and your smile brightened. Serah’s flickered with a small bit of happiness - although she wasn’t thrilled her husband was coming back, she was happy her son would be able to hear the news.

“Well it seems that there is no time to prepare” You giggled, squeezing her hand softly as she chuckled.

“No, but Eris will be happy nonetheless” Serah said, smiling.

“Y/N, my wife” Beron said, greeting both of you as the Vanserra boys winnowed into the library.

You smiled graciously, curtsying properly to the High Lord.

“I will see you all for dinner in a few hours” Beron stated, looking at the boys who all looked like they needed a shower quickly. You could feel the growing frustration to be close to you down the bond from Eris, itching to hold you in his arms, and as soon as Beron walked out of the room with Serah, he winnowed the two of you to your home.

“My love, I’ve missed you” Eris groaned, slotting his lips against yours as he pressed his body firmly against yours.

“I’ve missed you too” You whimpered out, as his hips ground against yours. His hands were warm, as they held out tight, feeling your silhouette. He gripped your hips, anchoring himself to you desperately.

He burned your dress, not in flames but burned it just so that it became ashes and fell of your skin. His clothes fell off in ashes as well, and without even looking at your body,Eris quickly maneuvered the two of you to the bed, his lips attached to yours. The smell of both of your arousal permeated thickly through the air, and your body fell drunk off the lust.

“Eris, Eris, wait my love” You said, pushing him slightly away from you. Confused, but respectful, he pulled away, looking into your eyes, concern written across his face.

“Is everything ok? Too much?” He asked, looking at your body if he had harmed you in some way while moving the pair of you to the bed.

“No, my love. Just - I love you, Eris Vanserra. And you might have to be a bit gentler, now that our love has created something” You said, trying to say it without giving it away immediately. You knew how smart Eris was, but right now, he was confused, cocking his head with an eyebrow raise.

“What? We created something?” Eris asked, and although you tried not to, your mouth let out a giggle. You put your hand over his hand, before moving his hand to your slightly swollen belly. He looked down, seeing the littlest of bumps, and then looked at you shocked.

“We’re - we’re - baby?” He said, stuttering in disbelief.

Eris couldn’t believe he didn’t notice it before, with the belly being swollen underneath his hands and you - you were glowing. Your breasts are a bit larger, and your smell - the smell of your was different, spicier just like his own.

He sank to his knees, placing both hands on your belly, and kissed it, before staring at it blatantly. You could only smile widely, as he kept kissing it. You could feel the indescribable amount of joy and love through your bond, as it all but radiated Eris’ amazement.

“You, my little flame, love of my life, my mate - I thought I was the happiest man alive before but this - this, I - I love you. You are the most incredible person in my life” Eris asked, looking up at you, his eyes filling with tears. You reached down, wiping away his tears although your eyes were watering heavily as well.

“I love you, husband” You said, when he stood and kissed him passionately.

“Are you okay to do this?” He asked, concerned now. You chuckled, nodding your head.

“Please, husband, I’ve been waiting for you for so long” You said, and Eris smirked.

“Well, I’d be a terrible husband if I’ve kept my perfect wife waiting any longer” He said, before devouring your lips. His large hands held on to your hips as he brought you flush against his body, allowing you to feel every muscle of his body as his clothes finally came off. His thick cock pressed into your belly, and your hips moved into his to alleviate the ache you were beginning to feel, aching for more of Eris’ touch.

“My good girl, I feel how eager you are. My sweet good girl” Eris whispered, as his lips travelled down your jaw to sucking on your neck, leaving a bruise on your soft skin. He leaned you back against the bed, moving his body between your legs, as he massaged your breast and inner thighs.

“Eris,” You moaned, pulling gently on his hair.

“Alright, my love. I’m impatient too. I’ve thought about this all the time, trying to get back to you sooner” He said, as he lifted your leg onto his hip as his fingers slid through your folds, already wet from anticipation.

“You’re already wet for me, my love? I bet you taste even sweeter. Next time, I promise, but I just need to be inside of you” He said, trying to loosen you up with his fingers before the tip of his cock began pushing inside of you, much gentler than he usually did.

You let out a moan, whimpering as your legs wrapped around his waist.

He smirked, looking at where the two of you connected, and thrust inside of you.

“Baby, you’re even tighter. I - you look even better, my flame. Mine. I’m going to keep you knocked up - you like that don’t you?” He asked, teasingly as he felt you squeeze him. “Yea, pump you full of my babies? Gods, thank you for gifting me you for the mother of my kids” He groaned, as you squeezed him, trying to milk his cock.

Your hips tried to meet his, to urge him to go faster, but it seemed Eris got the message, speeding up the pace as he leaned forward, his breath caressing your neck.

“I’m- I’m” You started to say, as you moaned.

“I got you, my little flame. I’m right behind you” He said, breathless, as you shattered underneath him. Your orgasm triggered his, and soon, you were both breathless, laying next to each other on the bed, your limbs entangled with one another.

Eris turned on his side, looking at you, as he tried to memorize his view: you, glowing with pregnancy and post-orgasmic haze, your hair thrown about in a crown around you, cheeks flushed and lips parted.

You felt his stare and turned to face him, as he wrapped an arm around your waist.

“Let’s go take a bath, my love” You said, before he kissed your lips and helped you out of the bed and towards the bathroom.

Your poured your usual oils, and waited for the bath to fill with hot water, as your husband attached himself to your back, resting his hands on your belly.

You had gotten better at the bath tub - although while Eris was away, you took colder ones to avoid any memory of the incident.

When it was ready, Eris got in first - as was routine with you two now, and reached for your hand to help you sit in front of him, your back to his chest. He gathered the water in his hands, and helped wash you before you turned around, ready to do the same to him.

“Eris” You sighed, looking at the bruises scattered across his body. Without even thinking, your hand began to glow as you tried to help.

“Y/N, stop. I don’t want it to hurt the baby. This is nothing serious” Eris said, holding your wrists as he forced his hands away from his body. You nodded, reluctantly, and then washed him.

taglist:

@historygeekqueen

#Eris #eris x reader #eris vanserra #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra smut #eris acotar #acotar #acotar fic #acotar x reader #archeron sisters #baby

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praetorqueenreyna · 1 year

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ACOTAR Fandom Demographics Survey Results!!!

(Hold onto your schlong, this post is gonna be LONG)

Thank you, ACOTAR fans, for participating in the fandom demographics survey! There were a total of 351 participants who took the survey, and I am extremely grateful for everyone's contributions. I've spent quite a bit of time sifting through the data determining how best to share my findings. I've decided to break them up into several categories, and each section will have the methods, results, and discussion of that category all together.

I do want to remind everybody that this is meant to be in good fun. I don't want any ship wars or character hate in the notes of this post, nor do I want anybody to take these results as a personal attack. Without further ado, let's get into it!

Table of Contents

Overall results of the survey

Preferences of fans based on age and sexuality

Trends based on the characters/ships that people like/dislike

Conclusion and overall thoughts

1. Overall results of the survey

This is, essentially, just the raw data with each option visualized as a percentage of the total number of participants. Click on the pie graphs to see them better.

Age, Gender, and Sexuality

The largest percentage of fans are in the age range 18-24 years old (44%). 26% are 25-30 years old, 16% are under 18 years old, 12% are 31-40 years old, and 2% are over 41 years old.

An overwhelming proportion of fans identify as female 92%. 5% are non-binary, 1% are other, and 1% are questioning. There was one male who took the survey (whoever you are, keep your head high king!)

The most common sexuality was straight (46%), followed by bisexual (30%). 8% are asexual, 6% are questioning, 5% are pansexual, 3% are lesbians, and 2% are other.

Based on this, most ACOTAR fans are young women who are attracted to men, which makes sense, considering that is the target demographic. I also did not do any further comparisons between fans based on gender, simply because there aren't enough non-women to draw any real conclusions.

Favorite and least favorite book in the series

The second book, A Court of Mist and Fury, is the favorite book in the series (40%), followed by A Court of Silver Flames (23%). 17% chose A Court of Thorns and Roses as their favorite, 17% chose A Court of Wings and Ruin, 2% chose A Court of Frost and Starlight, and 1% couldn't pick a favorite.

The novella A Court of Frost and Starlight was the least favorite book (41%), followed by A Court of Silver Flames (25%). 20% chose A Court of Thorns and Roses, 6% chose A Court of Mist and Fury, 6% chose A Court of Wings and Ruin, and 2% couldn't pick a least favorite.

Overall, A Court of Mist and Fury is the fan favorite and not a lot of people liked A Court of Frost and Starlight. A Court of Thorns and Roses and A Court of Silver Flames are pretty controversial: about an equal number picked them as their favorite AND least favorite book. It makes sense for ACOTAR, since that book is so different from the other books and focuses on Tamlin and the Spring Court, whereas the other books focus on the Night Court and Inner Circle, which are fan favorites. ACOSF also seems to be pretty controversial, with it's focus on Nesta, who herself is a somewhat controversial character.

Favorite Character and Least Favorite Character

(Note: for characters, I differentiated between all the top contenders and combined all the ones that only got a few votes into the section "Other.")

The favorite character is Nesta Archeron (23%), followed by Lucien Vanserra (18%). Next is Elain Archeron (12%), Feyre Archeron (10%), Rhysand (7%), Azriel (7%), Cassian (6%), Eris Vanserra (6%), Gwyneth Berdara (5%), and then other characters fill out the remaining 7%.

The least favorite characters were pretty evenly split between true villains (Ianthe, the King of Hybern, Amarantha, etc) and non-villain characters (Rhysand, Morrigan, Tamlin, etc). The most disliked character was Ianthe (19%), followed by Rhysand (16%). Then Amarantha (13%), Beron Vanserra (9%), the King of Hybern (7%), Morrigan (5%), Tamlin (5%), Nesta (4%), Elain (4%), Amren (4%), and other characters for the remaining 15%.

The Archeron sisters, Vanserra brothers, and the Bat boys make up almost the entirety of the favorite characters. The least favorite characters were a lot more diverse and spread out, but generally the true villains were disliked the most.

Favorite Ship and Least Favorite Ship

(Note: I did the same thing for ships as for characters, where the lowest voted for ships are combined into an "Other" category)

The number one favorite ship is Feyre/Rhysand (22%) followed closely by Cassian/Nesta (19%). Next is Lucien/Elain (16%), Azriel/Elain (13%), Azriel/Gwyn (6%), and Azriel/Eris (5%). 6% said their ship wasn't present in the survey, and the remaining 10% is in the category "Other".

The number one least favorite ship is Azriel/Elain (26%). Then Feyre/Tamlin (12%), Tamlin/Elain (11%), Feyre/Rhysand (10%), Azriel/Gwyn (7%), Tamlin/Rhysand (4%), Cassian/Nesta (4%), Lucien/Elain (4%), Rhysand/Nesta (3%), with the remaining 20% being covered in the "Other" category.

Most of the ship likes/dislikes seem centered around who Elain is paired with, and who Azriel is paired with. Feyre features surprisingly little in the ship wars (other than between Feysand and Feylin), and she isn't shipped with any other characters despite being the main character.

Favorite and Least Favorite Aspect of the Series

The characters themselves are overwhelmingly fandom's favorite aspect of the series (44%). 16% said their favorite was the romance/smut, 13% is the character development, 12% is the worldbuilding, 5% is the canon ships, 5% is the plot, and 5% is any other aspect.

The "other" category had the most votes for least favorite aspect of the series, at 32%. The worldbuilding aspect had 20% of the votes as least favorite, then 17% for the plot, 15% for the character development, 7% for the characters, 5% for the canon ships, and 5% for the romance/smut.

People really like the characters in this series, which makes sense for fandom! I'll admit that this section's flaws are the lack of options, so it also makes sense that so many people chose "other" as their favorite/least favorite aspect of the series.

2. Preferences of fans based on age and sexuality

For this section, I wanted to see if there were trends in favorite/least favorite things based on age and sexuality. I ran a chi-square test, which looks at differences between categorical variables with a significance factor of p=0.05 (or, there being a 5% chance that any differences between categories are due to random error and not actual differences).

A chi-square test works best with 2 categories that have an approximate equal number of samples. To this end, I combined ages and sexualities in the following ways:

"Under 18 years old" and "18-24 years old" are combined in a category of "younger" fans. The remaining three age groups (comprised of fans aged 25 and older) are combined into a category of "older" fans. This gave us 209 younger fans and 142 older fans.

Every fan that didn't identify as straight was combined into a single category of "queer" fans. This gave us 163 straight fans and 188 queer fans

Age

There was no difference between younger and older fans in their least favorite book, favorite ship, and favorite/least favorite aspect of the series (p>0.05).

More younger people have Rhysand and Amarantha as their least favorite character than older people (p=0.02), and more younger people picked Feylin, Feysand, and Nessian as their least favorite ship than older people (p=0.05).

While not statistically significant, there were also trends in more younger people having ACOTAR as their favorite book (p=0.1) and Feyre as their favorite character (p=0.1).

Sexuality

There was no difference between queer and straight fans and their least favorite book, favorite/least favorite character, and favorite/least favorite aspect of the series (p>0.05).

More queer fans have ACOTAR as their favorite book, and more straight fans have ACOMAF as their favorite book (p=0.0007). More queer fans have Azris as their favorite ship, and more straight fans have Gwynriel as their favorite ship (p=0.03). In general, queer people had a much greater variety in their favorite ships (they had more favorites in the Ship Not Present and Other category).

While not statistically significant, there was also a trend of queer people having Feylin, Feysand, and Tamlain as their least favorite ship, and more straight people have Gwynriel as their favorite ship (p=0.08).

In general, there are actually not huge differences between younger/older fans, and queer/straight fans! I do think it's interesting that both younger people AND queer people prefer ACOTAR as their favorite book.

3. Trends based on the characters/ships that people like/dislike

For this section, I wanted to isolate all the people who voted for something in one category, and look at the other choices they made. So, for example, looking at the least favorite character from people who voted for Nesta as their favorite character. So these stats ONLY take into account the people who voted in that category. I restricted the characters/ships that got the most votes in each category.

General trends

To keep this from getting too long and dull, I will only report on the findings that I find particularly interesting. Some general trends I saw that don't seem specific to each category are:

the "least favorite character" being a true villain (Ianthe, Amarantha, King of Hybern, etc).

The least favorite ship being Azriel/Elain

The least favorite book being ACOFAS

I'll write out all the results, but here's a table of the trends I saw

Favorite character

People who voted for Nesta dislike Rhysand, and their favorite ship is Nessian. They also tend to dislike Feylin and Feysand, and their favorite book is ACOSF.

For Lucien, they dislike Ianthe and Rhysand, the favorite ship is Elucien, and the least favorite ship is Elriel (the most popular rival ship for Elain). Their favorite books are ACOTAR and ACOMAF.

For Elain, the overwhelming favorite ship is Elriel (85%), and they dislike Tamlain and Gwynriel (both rival ships for Elain and Azriel, respectively).

For Feyre and Rhysand, the favorite ship is Feysand and the favorite book is ACOMAF (true for people who voted for either of them as their favorite character).

Least favorite character

Again, most people voted for true villains in this category and there weren't many interesting trends. I did find that people that voted for Rhysand as their least favorite like Nesta and Lucien, and their least favorite ship is Feysand. Their favorite ships are in the "Other" or "Ship Not Present" category, and their favorite book is ACOTAR.

Favorite ship

For Feysand, the favorite characters are Feyre and Rhysand, the least favorite ship is Feylin, and the favorite book is ACOMAF. Interestingly, Feysand fans voted for the "true villains" for their least favorite character over Tamlin, who only got 8% of the vote for least favorite character. More evidence that the villains and non-villains should be split up for the "least favorite character" category.

For Nessian, the favorite character is overwhelmingly Nesta (only 22% of Nessian stans voted for Cassian as their favorite) and the favorite book is ACOSF.

For Elucien, the favorite character is Lucien, and the favorite book is ACOMAF.

For Elriel, the favorite character is Elain, least favorite ships are Tamlain and Gwynriel, and the favorite book is ACOWAR.

For Gwynriel, the favorite character is Gwyn, and the favorite book is ACOSF.

Least favorite ship

For people who disliked Elriel, the favorite character tends to Lucien, and the favorite ships are Elucien and Gwynriel. They also like Nessian and Feysand. Favorite books are ACOMAF and ACOSF.

For people who dislike Feylin, the favorite character is Nesta, and the favorite ships are Nessian and Feysand. Favorite book is ACOMAF, least favorite book is ACOTAR.

For people who dislike Tamlain, their favorite character is Elain and the favorite ship is Elriel. I'm honestly surprised that so many people HATE Tamlin/Elain this much, I didn't even know it was a major ship?

For people who dislike Feysand, the favorite characters are Nesta and Lucien and the least favorite character is Rhysand. Favorite book is ACOTAR, least favorite is ACOMAF.

For people who dislike Gwynriel, the favorite character is Elain, and the favorite ship is Elriel.

4. Conclusion and overall thoughts

So here we are! I'm sure there are some things here that are not a surprise (e.g. Feysand stans liking ACOMAF and dislike ACOTAR), and some things that are a surprise (nobody likes ACOFAS). If anybody else has more thoughts on these results and what they mean, I would love to hear them.

In general, I hope this survey reveals that there is no one, singular, overwhelming "fandom" making decisions and casting blame. Even the most popular characters/ships didn't get more than 25% of the total fandom vote! There is not one ship ruling the rest of us, there are about 5-6 popular ships with plenty of fans who love that ship. I hope that fans will read this survey and see ACOTAR fandom as a diverse community of fans with plenty of space for everybody to co-exist.

I welcome any and all questions and comments! Anybody that wants to see my stats or raw data need only ask, and I will be more than happy to share. There were some issues inherent in the survey that are due to my own mistakes, so I would not be OPPOSED to running an updated survey sometime in the future.

Stay safe, be kind, and thank you again for your participation.

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tbookblurbs · 6 months

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A Court of Silver Flames - Sarah J. Maas

2/5 - Don't read if you're not willing to re-write in your head as you go or if you actually like well-written fantasy

I'll be honest, this was my second time through this book. Upon the reread, I had already erased so much of the plot from my memory that it was as if I was reading for the first time. Anyways ...

All the usual Maas problems are here. Weirdly written gay relationships (if there are any), oversexualization of bisexual people, transphobic undertones, retconning characters to being PoC (lucien) a la JK Rowling (or no PoC characters at all), misogyny, CRAZY levels of toxic masculinity, plot holes, etc.

This book is mostly sex and characterization retcons. I really enjoyed Nesta's character arc, the Valkyries, and sometimes Cassian and Azriel, but everything to do with Feyre left a bad taste in my mouth. Favorite scene, no question, was Nesta's dance with Eris in the Night Court. That was the first scene where I felt they actually gave Nesta skills and a personality beyond bitter alcoholism.

That said, the cons of this book far outweigh the pros. As always, Maas' writing is a breeze to get through just because it's not particularly difficult prose, but her insistence (in this novel and in other books) on using Female/Male and weird gender essentialism is at best irritating and at worst actively detracting from the novel. The entire pregnancy plotline could (and arguably should) be removed from this book. It doesn't add anything to Nesta's journey, paints Rhysand and Feyre in a really bad light, and is frankly an incredibly stupid plot choice. You have magic, can shapeshift, and have indoor plumbing but C-sections haven't been invented yet? Really? The whole scenario is incredibly contrived and I actively skipped scenes dealing with it if I could. The entire Inner Circle acts immature, judgemental, and unforgiving, despite their own insistence to the contrary. Elain also still has no personality. I was also confused by the whole "Maybe Rhysand should be High King of Prythian" subplot like ... huh?? Where did that even come from??

The book tops itself off by using one of my least favorite tropes in fantasy, which is when women, usually main characters, have to give up all their power at the end of the story. Maas is very fond of this plotline. She does the same thing with Aelin in the Throne of Glass series. Personally, I find this trope to be misogynistic and often evidence of poor writing to neatly wrap up the end of a story, regardless of whether the choices post-power-loss are in character.

The version of this story that I was re-writing in my head, which cuts the weird bitterness between Cassian and Nesta and Feyre's pregnancy entirely (she's 19????) while expanding on her powers and letting her keep them, is much more interesting. But alas, that is NOT the version on page. Unless you (like me) had it downloaded on your Kindle and an 8-hr plane ride to kill, I wouldn't bother if you're seriously interested in reading fantasy.

#before anyone asks #I do hate read which is why I invested time in the first place #it's me and my sister's bonding activity #a court of silver flames #acosf #sarah j maas #sjm #nesta archeron #cassian acotar #rhysand #feyre archeron #elain archeron #eris vanserra #lucien vanserra #book review #fantasy romance #fantasy #high fantasy #romance

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blodgmonster · 2 days

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Part THREE of my A Court of Silver Flames reread commentary that absolutely no one asked for.

--Is there a ship name for Mor/Emerie? Even though it's based entirely on Emerie saying she forgot how beautiful Mor is and blushing? Because I ship it.

-- Gwyn having them written into Merril's book about the Valkyries. So SWEET!! "Our stories are worth telling." Damn straight.

-- Nesta facing her fear with the fire. That's my girl.

-- the House showed her its heart!!!

-- kinda fuckin rude of Rhys to give the dagger Nesta Made to Eris. Even if she doesn't want it, it should be Nesta's to give away.

-- I need Nesta, Aelin, and Bryce to form a dance troupe.

-- Eris tells Nesta that what happened between him and Mor after she was savaged didn't go down the way Mor says. He's implied this a few times. I need to know!!! What happened!? Her gift is truth, why would she lie about that?

-- Nesta, teach me how to dance! I need to seduce a man into a marriage proposal in three dances or less.

-- Nesta saying "fuck you" to Elain is priceless

-- Nesta and Azriel's relationship is low key but adorable!

-- Take the gods damned symphonia, Nesta!! Jesus Christ, stop getting in your own fucking way! You two idiots love each other!

-- Nesta and Cassian making love instead of just fucking is...wonderful. It's about damn time. "And warm and safe and home at last in Cassian's arms, Nesta slept." YESSSSSSSS. (Also my work crush walked into the break room when I was right in the middle of this sex scene. I was screaming internally.)

-- the girls are having SUCH a good time in the House and the House is having a good time and they're making bracelets and they're a found family and I love them.

-- VALKYRIES!!!! CUT THAT RIBBON, YOU WONDERFUL FEMALES!!!!

-- "She would not be mastered by anything again. She was the master of herself...And this person she was becoming, emerging day by day...She might even like her." NESTAAAAAAAA

-- I forgot she MADE the House oh my God.

-- "The mood hadn't been helped by a rare red star blasting across the sky one day." SUP, AELIN!!! LOVE YOU MOST

-- "I am your MATE, for fuck's sake!" Oh, Cassian.

-- "Well, I didn't have a choice in being shackled to you, either." CASSIAN, YOU FUCKING IDIOT OH MY GOD.

-- "some things are more important than fear." Gwyn, I love you.

--And I love that Mor agreed to be their Uber. Have a falling out while dealing with the fact that you're mated? Call Mor's Mating Mishap Uber to get you the fuck away from that male.

-- I said it before and I'll say it again. The bargin to die together is so FUCKING STUPID. And inconsiderate to your loved ones. The Inner Court, your sisters, your possible son would be devastated by one death and you bargained to make it a DOUBLE funeral for them. How nice. If Nyx loses a dad, oh no, guess what, he's an ORPHAN. Also, Rhys is waaaaay older than Feyre and would die before her naturally, so this bargin drastically shortens Feyre's lifespan. 'Oh, she doesn't want to live without him.' That's fucking life, isn't it? The people we love the most die on us, and our world falls apart, and then guess what? We keep fucking going.

-- Nesta has made her first kill in the Blood Rite

-- "Emerie was alive. And nearby. And in danger. And this motherfucker wouldn't stop Nesta from saving her." FUUUUUUUUCK YES

-- every time the pov shifts from Nesta to Cassian on the continent I want to scream. I don't give a flying fuck about the rescue mission for Eris.

-- "You came for me."

"Of course. That's what sisters do." * SCREAMING. CRYING, THROWING UP * I love you, Emerie!

-- "I have been broken before...I survived it. And I will not be broken again -- not even by this mountain." FUCK YEAH, GWYN.

-- Gwyn's story and then Emerie telling her "You're not alone." And Emerie's shit father. And Nesta finally, finally telling them everything, letting them all the way into her heart. And they don't cringe away. They love her. I am fucking crying.

-- "'I'll face it with you,' Gwyn whispered over and over again. 'Promise me we'll face it together.'" I love you, Gwyn.

-- "There were no hateful voices in her head. Only the knowledge that her friends lay behind her, beyond the line she had drawn in the earth, and she would not cede that line. She would not fail her friends. She had no room for fear in her heart." I love you, Nesta

-- "my mate taught me well." FUCK YEAH

-- OH FUCK I FORGOT ABOUT THIS PART!!! Cassian showed up, mind controlled. FUCK

-- JESUS CHRIST, HE'S KILLING HIMSELF!! I FORGOT SO MUCH!

-- oh hell. The stupid birth. I have a genuine fear of giving birth so this fucking sucks. For a few reasons.

-- HOW is a C section BEYOND THE POWER OF MAGIC.

-- "so live, Nesta Archeron." Echoes of "live, Manon, live."

-- And thus, my beloved Nesta gets nerfed. WHY must the female protagonist sacrifice her power in order to save the day? Why can't she stay overpowered like Rhys? Like Feyre? It's clear in HOFAS that Nesta still has some power but come on! WHY, SJM, FUCKING WHY!!!!!! Her power is Death, couldn't she use that to tell death to back the fuck off of her sister? Save Feyre USING her power instead of SACRIFYING IT. Ugh. It makes me so mad.

-- you SHOULD bow, Rhys. And you should treat Nesta with the utmost respect, love, and gratitude for the rest of time. But as we see in HOFAS that's not the case, IS IT? This book (and HOFAS) kind of ruins him.

-- Nyx was a goddess. Weird thing to name a boy.

-- Cassian, I am going to need you to say "I love you" back in one of the future ACOTAR books. Do you hear me, SJM, he needs to SAY IT.

-- I'm glad Nesta got the House. And finally a painting of her.

-- I am so glad that Nesta got the peace and love and friends that she deserves. But it does make me wonder why the relationships seemed so off in their cameos during HOFAS. Rhys is being a domineering prick to Nesta, so much so that Ember (beloved) feels the need to step in and defend her and mother her. And Cassian, who clearly loves her and has challenged Rhys before when he was being a dick, just stood there and let it happen. What was that??

#a court of silver flames #acosf #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #sjm

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theladyofbloodshed · 1 year

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A Court of Tangled Flames - Chapter 33

(The penultimate chapter, all fluff. If you know me, that means hold on tight for the last chapter)

Away from the muted chatter and bright lights in the great hall, Nesta was able to finally let out a breath. Her guilt hadn’t clawed its way out of her chest and announced her as Beron’s murderer. Each gaze that landed on her seemed to penetrate her soul, probing how such a powerful male had died so suddenly.

Grateful that nobody else was permitted, she lined up alongside the other Vanserras to begin the procession to the crypts. Her mother-in-law had warned her that they were cold and miserable, but Nesta was so tired that the cold might be welcomed to keep her awake. The confrontation with Cassian had left her dizzy. Everything that Eris had said had rang true. Cassian should have realised that she was vulnerable and not in a place to embark on a relationship. Mother above, she’d been shut in that damn house for sleeping with males, but when the male had been selected by the inner circle, it was permitted? Despite the awfulness of the whole interaction, it had cemented one thing in Nesta’s mind: nobody had ever loved her like Eris did. Nobody was ever so quick, so ready to defend her. He was her sword and shield. I would rather see my court fall to ruin and ash than ever see Nesta forced to be your mate. A tremendous declaration from a husband who meant it.

She spotted Orla amongst the crowd, a hand resting on Lucien’s shoulder while Niamh regaled them both with an animated tale. There was no sign of the Night Court now. Indeed, all the other courts had dispersed back to their homes which was a relief. Not only had the Night Court’s attention been insufferable, but even Helion had stared constantly, not solely to Nesta but Eliška too. The only stragglers still remaining were courtiers or friends who lived closest to the Forest House. Lucien peeled away from the sisters to join his family. That was a strange moment that Nesta never thought she’d see; neither did she expect to be part of that family. It couldn’t be easy for him to be there. Had the last time been when Jesminda’s life had ended?

The sons filtered either side of Beron’s body, lifting it with ease, under the sombre eyes of the court then they leading the way to the crypts.

Nesta sought out Eliška’s hand again, offering what little support she could. Her emotions had been like waves last night, undulating between despair, euphoria, relief, and emptiness. She’d wept for a husband who had tried to be kind at the beginning, but his own father’s cruelty had seeped in, changing him into the high lord that Prythian knew, so he hurt her, hurt their children because he didn't know how to be anything else. She had told Nesta stories that she doubted even Eris knew – ones she wouldn’t share with her husband – about Beron. About the volatile temper. The bullying. Trying to bond in her garden, but failing. The wars of their sons. She would heal. They would all heal.

The path to the crypts that existed deep beneath the Forest House was made of grey, twisting stone. Only family were permitted within for the procession; Beron’s tomb had already been prepared that morning by servants and priestesses. Nesta had to wonder if the whole court had been glad to be rid of him like a flea irritating the skin. A canal split the crypt down the middle. The faint trickle of water could be heard, flowing elsewhere. Sconces had been lit along the wall, casting flickering yellow light along their path.

‘Shall we just toss him in here? Nobody else would know.’

‘Eris,’ chided Eliška – though Xander and Lucien were fighting back grins.

Phelan let out a snort. ‘That’s not fair on the fish. You’ll poison them.’

There was no love for Beron. That became apparent very quickly. None of them held onto the male with much care, particularly when they bumped him against the worn stone wall.

Lucien asked, ‘How did happen?’

Everyone present said a different answer at the same time.

‘An enemy.’

‘Poison.’

‘His reflection.’

‘Fire.’

‘A witch.’

‘Bored him to death.’

Lucien raised his brows then said, ‘I see.’

And the matter was closed. Nesta did not know why the brothers were loyal to her and Eris. Eris had cut Phelan’s damn hand off. It was another item to quiz Eris about whenever she finally had her husband to herself.

The males positioned Beron over the mouth of the tomb, lowering him down. Uther knocked Beron’s head against the stone again, making Lucien snort, then Phelan dropped his legs unceremoniously with a shrug. Then, all four males, broke into nervous, uncertain laughter. The lady of the court touched a pale hand to her forehead, shaking her head slightly.

‘Thank the Mother that’s over with,’ said Eris brightly, rubbing his hands together. ‘Rest in peace Beron Vanserra, you vile piece of shit.’

He squeezed Nesta on the shoulder but put his arm around his mother, guiding her along the pathway towards the entrance, keen to remove her from the crypts. Nesta hung back a step to walk beside Lucien. He extended his arm for her to hold onto. She murmured, ‘Are you all right?’

Lucien gave a tight nod, so Nesta stroked against his hand with her free one. ‘I’m sorry, Lucien.’

Enjoying the role of high lord, Eris demanded a spread of food be brought to their rooms along with a spare bed for his mother to sleep in. It was only late afternoon, but all of them had been up throughout the previous night; Nesta and Eris had a lack of sleep the night before that too at Orla’s.

‘You don’t need to keep me in here, Eris,’ his mother said, after the servants had managed to wedge a bed into the lounge. ‘I’m quite well alone.’

‘Maybe I want my mother near me until I know exactly who to trust in this place. Maybe I need support in poaching my little brother back to our court – and who can do that better than mama.’

The other brothers had skulked away to their quarters with the exception of Lucien who squatted awkwardly in the corner, getting bothered by smokehounds. ‘You only call her that when you want something.’

‘I want my brother to move home,’ Eris replied simply. ‘You don’t suit black.’

Nesta held Cotton-tail aloft, out of the dogs’ jaws. He munched on a leaf of lettuce plucked from the spread of food, tucked into the crook of her elbow. The cake that she’d had her eye on in the hall had been delivered to their rooms. Without needing to ask, Eris had caught where her gaze landed then cut a massive slice for her.

‘I should probably have something savoury first.’

‘As your high lord, I command you to eat the cake.’

Oh, he was going to enjoy holding that over her head at every opportunity.

‘He’s going to be insufferable now,’ said Lucien.

‘He already was,’ she replied, making her mother-in-law laugh.

It was nice to eat together without the shadow of Beron looming over them. It had not yet been a day since the male had died but already the court felt lighter, like a great weight had been lifted from its chest. If Eris was burdened by his new title, he did not show it. The male lounged in a chair, feet reaching across the gap into Nesta’s lap, precariously close to Cotton-tail’s teeth. When the room was flooded with the golden evening light, Nesta left the family to enjoy each other’s company. There was so much that they needed to talk about, much they needed to catch up on. Something tentative and hesitant was blooming between the three so Nesta did not want to be a burden.

Eris caught her in the doorway, holding her wrist close to his chest. ‘You don’t have to go.’

‘You should speak altogether as a family.’

A smile had rarely left his lips since they had passed through the doors to their rooms. Nesta could not recall ever seeing Eris so light, so happy.

‘You are part of this family – I’m sorry to tell you that, if you didn’t already know. Don’t feel as if you need to leave.’

A family. The word choked her with joy. Nesta had killed his father last night. Hadn’t even stopped to think about what she was doing before her fire devoured Beron. But it had changed nothing. If anything, they seemed to love her more. A family was what she had wanted for so long. She tipped forwards towards her husband. His soft lips pressed to her temple, holding her to him for a while.

‘I am only slightly jealous that you can sleep.’

Nesta held his drooping head up. ‘I’ll warm the bed for you.’

‘I knew I married you for a reason.’ He kissed her again. ‘See you soon, Queen of Queens.’

‘If Eris chokes on the food,’ she called over his shoulder, ‘let him suffer. Lucien, how would you like to be high lord?’

Their laughter rang out behind her as she entered the bedroom. Safera was not far behind her; the gentle hound waited for her outside of the bathroom then slunk up onto the bed in Eris’ spot.

It felt as if her head had only just grazed the pillow when Eris woke her with a heavy shuffle of footsteps across the carpet. She hadn’t bothered drawing the curtains closed so darkness still seeped through the window.

‘Sorry, my love,’ he whispered as she grumbled and turned over.

‘Did Lucien go?’

‘No. He’s on the couch. Still talking with my mother.’

With a bone-tiredness, Eris removed his clothing and let it drop into a heap on the floor rather than picking it up like he usually would.

‘I have been waiting for this moment all day.’

With no sophistication or grace whatsoever, Eris flopped face first onto the mattress. The springs groaned under his weight.

‘I am more tired than anybody in history has ever been before.’

‘That’s an exaggeration.’

A long groan rattled from his throat as he continued to lay across the mattress like a plank of wood. At first, Nesta tried to be tender as she attempted to pluck the blanket from beneath his body, but he was too damn heavy to manage it. She ended up grunting as she strained to free the quilt. ‘Mother, help me, how much cake did you eat this evening?’

‘I’m so tired.’ They were the only words he could manage.

By the time that Nesta had managed to pull the blanket from beneath Eris, he was already sleeping. He’d earned it, she supposed. In three days, he’d gone into the Prison, been wounded, saved her from her magic, been whipped, watched his father die, become high lord, and chuck his father’s body into the crypts. She now understood why people prayed for uninteresting lives.

***

The light breeching their sanctuary was an ill-omen. It meant they had to get out of bed and Eris was loathe to do it. At Nesta’s first movements where she tried to sling her legs onto the floor, he shot out his arms and hauled her back towards him. For a while, Nesta allowed it. Their legs and arms tangled around each other, eyes heavy in the hazy morning, then her bladder could take no more.

‘I’ll check on our guests,’ she said, kissing his forehead on her return to the bedroom.

Although his body might have been present, his mind was not. Eris could have slept for a week, maybe longer. The duty that he had waited his entire life for beckoned, but Eris wished it could be postponed for another day. He’d be high lord tomorrow. All he wanted today was to be Nesta’s husband and not get out of bed.

At one point, he had thought that Nesta had joined him in the bed again. Her weight could be felt on the mattress as she moved closer to him. Then a tongue swept up his neck and tried to lick his ear.

‘Safera! Off the bed.’

She leapt onto the floor with a thump.

‘You spoilt madam. Sharing a bed with a high lord.’

Begrudgingly, Eris dragged his carcass from the bed and into the next room, but only his wife remained there. He had no recollection of her dressing at all.

‘Good afternoon, high lord.’

‘It’s surely not.’

‘It is well past noon. Your first act as high lord has been to sleep the day away.’

Eris rubbed at his eyes. ‘Lucien?’

‘With mother having a ride through the forest. Yes, with guards. Yes, one of those is Ashur. She will be safe.’

He folded his arms across his bare chest. ‘Where was my invitation?’

‘One, surely a high lord has more important duties than playing with horses. Two, they waited for you to wake up to accompany them. I tried to wake you up. Even Lucien tried to wake you up. I was very close to summoning Orla because I thought you were in an enchanted sleep.’

Eris strode forwards. His hands slid around Nesta’s waist, drawing her to him. ‘In your stories a handsome prince has to kiss the princess to wake her up.’

She laughed openly in his face then, grey eyes shining. ‘Did you just refer to yourself as a princess? And me your handsome prince?’

He stepped away, massaging his temples. ‘I am so tired still.’

All of those years plotting and scheming had finally taken their toll on Eris, so now he was paying for the long nights loping through the woods where he traded places with Ashur. He’d been nearly untouchable then. He could function well enough on shards of sleep day after day.

It had not quite sunk in yet that he was the high lord of his court and that his father was dead. It was a conversation he needed to have with Nesta though not yet. All he wanted now was to cuddle beside his wife and sleep longer.

‘What now?’

Nesta’s words had been hesitant. She wrung her hands together. Her shoulders had curled inwards as if she was bracing herself to weather a storm.

He tilted his head slightly to examine his wife from her head to her toes. ‘What’s the matter, Nesta?’

‘I killed your father, Eris. Where is my punishment?’

The words burst out of her like the lightning of a sudden storm, unable to be stopped. She pressed her hand over her mouth, eyes wide with terror because she had said it aloud.

‘My father succumbed to a sudden illness. We all saw it.’

His hands settled on the tops of her arms, steadying her. Eris reassured her that she was safe and not in any sort of peril. Nobody would be sorry to see Beron gone. None of them.

‘But your brothers. They’ll use it against us.’

Eris shook his head then touched his forehead against hers. ‘They know I am now the most powerful male in this court – with the most powerful female at my side. Saving their own skins is their priority first and foremost. If they did not swear fealty, I’d have executed them. They’ve sworn a vow and cannot harm us.’

‘You chopped off Phelan’s hand,’ she whispered, eyes still alert with terror.

‘And he learnt a lesson never to touch what isn’t his, didn’t he? Nesta, I am the eldest. Believe it or not, my father favoured me. What he did to me was only a drop of what he has inflicted upon my brothers over the centuries.’ He kissed her gently. ‘You are safe. I will always keep you safe.’

Despite having no inclination whatsoever to engage with the masses, Eris knew he must. Nesta was already in pristine condition, so he dressed to match, immobilising his fatigue for a couple of hours.

‘How do you feel about riding through a few towns and waving?’

Nesta nodded. ‘I’m probably capable of that.’

‘More than capable.’

To make her smile, Eris demonstrated different waves, each one becoming more and more ludicrous. It worked. His lovely wife rolled her eyes and shoved him towards the door, but Eris had spied that smile trying to spread across her face no matter how much she tried to hide it.

It was tedious work to wade through the mewling servants and sentries who swarmed them on their exit. Worse were the confounded courtiers whom even Beron had loathed. He only kept them around to punish them when his mood was foul enough. They were sycophants with sugar-sweet compliments and sickly smiles, but Eris was just as bad as he slipped on his own mask of charming, cunning court-trained-bastard. Without prompting, Nesta followed suit. She moved elegantly, sweeping past the bows and curtseys with the ghost of a smirk on her regal face. Mother above, she was a natural. Perhaps it was a little cruel to command the servants to ready their horses then give them the time it took to cross the house to be ready, but, like the polished and proper servants they were, two geldings were waiting in the courtyard. Nesta brushed off assistance and mounted without support as Eris did the same in unison. They were twin flames that flowed together. No male was as lucky as he.

They rode out through the forests with guards following behind at a steady distance in case any of the general public became too close for comfort. What they didn’t know was that Eris had a wife who could strike anybody down dead so the need for sentries was inconsequential.

Their horses galloped through the towering, golden forests, ushered by the crisp wind that signalled change. They made appearances in towns and even some of the larger villages that surrounded the Forest House. Many folk came out to watch and wave. They bowed low to their high lord though some eyed him warily, trying to understand what sort of male he was. History was forgotten; Beron wasn’t even the worst Vanserra to hold the seat. His grandfather had spiked the head of every male in the family onto the gates outside of the forest house except for his own son in his paranoia. Distant cousins and children did not escape his tyranny; only one male did – Beron himself, his only child. Beron did kill his own father at twenty years old though, so Eris did think his grandfather had been unlucky in that regard that his son had turned out to be just as rotten as he was. Eris’ great-grandfather had also married five times and each wife had been killed if she produced a daughter rather than a son. Nesta had really come off quite lucky, all things considered.

Eris glanced across to her. Though she said she was fine, he noticed the slight wince on her features each time the horse sped up along the path. Her legs hung like dead weights either side of the beast’s flank.

He called to the closest sentry. ‘Find the nearest tavern with decent food and scout it.’

‘High lord, it is unsafe to dine in public. No testers have come.’

‘Then you can test the food for poison for daring to question an order from your high lord,’ replied Nesta. One stern look from her had the guard digging his heels into his mare to bring her to a canter.

‘Remind me never to get on your bad side.’

Nesta rolled her eyes once more. ‘It is so rare for you to be on my good side.’

A lonely tavern stood at a crossroads. It offered rooms for the night for wearied travellers as well as the promise of a warm meal and a hot bath. A thatched roof sagged over the cream walls and tired flowers hung in baskets beneath the many windows.

‘Is it safe?’

‘Yes, my lord. Your mother and brother are present.’

Sentries took their horses and Eris forbade them from entering. There, as the guard had said, sat Lucien with a full glass of beer in his hands. An arm was slung around his mother’s shoulders. The lady herself sipped at a glass of red wine with colour blossoming in the apples of her cheeks. They were not alone. A pair of sisters had joined them at the table; Niamh drank beer while Orla opted for tea. On Niamh’s other side sat a female with beautiful, leathery wings.

‘I cannot believe you would not invite your damn high lord. I’ll have you all executed for conspiring against me.’

Eris stood at the end of the table with his hands on his hips in mock outrage.

‘I thought you were comatose in bed still.’

He grunted. ‘Just about.’

Without waiting for an invitation to join them, Eris pulled up a chair and gestured for Nesta to sit then wedged himself impossibly close to Lucien on the bench, just to see how his brother might react. Lucien, of course, took it all his stride. He poured half of his drink into an empty glass on the table then pushed it towards Eris.

‘Good. You’re here. You can foot the bill,’ said Niamh, a bright smile lighting up her face.

At Nesta’s arrival, Emerie increased the space between her and the other female, a slight blush crawling across her cheeks. Eris wasn’t bothered at all by whatever it was that was unravelling between the pair; indeed Niamh had calmed down since she had been travelling to Windhaven.

‘I didn’t expect to see you,’ said Nesta, a true smile on her face. ‘You’re safe?’

Niamh leaned over. ‘Don’t you dare doubt me. I could take on every Illyrian and Briallyn without breaking a sweat.’

‘I remember when you ripped up all of my freshly planted bulbs when you decided that you were a witch,’ scolded his mother. How beautiful it was to see a smile trying to break its way onto her lips too, after so long being subdued.

Niamh’s mouth dropped open in outrage. A slender finger was pointed squarely at Lucien’s chest. ‘It was him too. Lucien was the naughty one. I was the silly one who followed his schemes.’

‘You two used to cause such mischief. Your mother and I had to take it in turns to tell you off because it happened so frequently, rest her soul.’

If he could, Eris would have stopped time to make the night last forever. The evening was perfect. Their bellies were filled with good food and better ale. The merriment flowed with no signs of stopping. Eris was surrounded by the people he cared most about in a little tavern in the middle of nowhere. At one point, he dragged his poor wife onto his lap despite her nervous laughter because it had been too long since he’d had his arms around her. There were teasing words from Lucien, asking whether Nesta needed assistance with removing a pest which made all of the females in attendance laugh, even his own mother.

To speed up the return journey, they winnowed, leaving the sentries to return the horses to the Forest House. There were relentless jokes at Eris’ expense over his age and whether he desperately needed to get back to bed.

‘Mother is older than me,’ he replied to Lucien as he pressed clean clothing into his hands for the night.

She pressed a hand over her chest, ‘Only by twenty years.’

Twenty years was nothing. A wife too quickly, a mother too soon. Now, at least, she might find some happiness again. Indeed, the light was returning to her russet eyes. Eris did not know how much of it was due to her husband’s passing or how much was due to her beloved son returning to her.

‘Where is my wife? She might defend me.’

From the bedroom, Nesta called, ‘I won’t.’

What wicked creatures. All of them.

Lucien would stay another night at his mother’s behest – and at Eris’, she would stay in their rooms once more. Eris was glad to have both of them back, even if he wouldn’t admit it amidst the teasing. Lucien’s absence had made their mother wilt more. She had lived in a perpetual mourning ever since that day. Eris knew their bastard of a father held it over her head constantly, promising to let him come back if she did things for him, never fulfilling his end. Nesta had solved their issues with a short, sharp blast of her power, the wonderful thing she was.

The female in question was waiting for him in bed, sprawled out across the mattress. He crawled into the sheets, inhaling the jasmine scent of her hair as he settled beside her.

‘Without lying, how badly do your legs hurt from riding?’

‘Enough.’

‘They’ll be worse tomorrow.’ Eris rose onto his knees and began massaging her calf. She tried to pull her foot away, face growing red as she hissed something about his mother being in the next room, but Eris waved it away. ‘I’m not about to ravish you. Merely trying to save you a day of stiffness.’

His thumb dug into the flesh of her calf, hard enough for her to grit her teeth. It was needed to remove all of the knots and aches from the muscle. Her riding today had been impeccable. It was the most she had ever managed – not that she would have complained or asked to stop. She was the Autumn Court; beautiful but cutthroat, never bending, never breaking.

‘Thank you for yesterday with Cassian.’

A soft breath passed his lips. He raised her leg slightly higher to work on her thigh. Although it was an act to help his wife, running his hands along her legs also had the blood pumping quicker around his body.

‘You don’t need to thank me for defending you, my love. You are my wife. I’d stand in front of death itself and let it take me into its cold embrace rather than you.’

Nesta’s lips pressed together as she smiled. Through heavy lashes, she gazed up at him, almost bashfully. ‘You say such romantic things.’

He kissed the soft skin of her thigh.

In the fireplace of their bedroom, his magic twisted in ribbons of red and gold until Nesta flexed her hand and her own went to join it. Her grey eyes watched the flames as they turned together, becoming one. In each moment, the happiness slipped further from her expression. It warped her features until she bit down on her bottom lip to keep from crying.

‘Nesta, tell me what’s wrong.’

‘I don’t understand mating bonds. How can he be my mate? We have nothing in common. He treats me poorly. Why would the Cauldron put us together? I don’t understand it. The bond is always gnawing away at me and I can’t bear it anymore. I want rid of it.’

He pulled her onto his lap, holding her tightly to him.

‘Why aren’t we mates?’ She swallowed down her tears, gripping onto him fiercely. ‘We are a perfect match. It doesn’t make sense.’

‘Mating bonds don’t always lead to happiness. I have many theories and opinions on the Cauldron’s ability to select equals which I’d be glad to share with you one day.’

‘Of course, you would,’ she said, laughing slightly through her tears.

‘Books and books of notes of my observations,’ he murmured, kissing her softly. ‘A mating bond is no guarantee of love. There are countless examples where it is wrong. You are not wrong for having a mating bond that doesn’t bring you joy.’

‘But why aren’t we mates?’

Eris wondered if anybody had truly explained what a mate was to Nesta. If anybody had explained half of the things in her life that were new, or had they expected her to figure it all out alone.

‘Do not think that our love is less because we are not mated.’ He smoothed her hair down, the silken strands soft beneath his fingers. ‘There was no force pushing us together. Fate did not shackle us. We chose each other, Nesta. Do you not think that is special? More special than a bond you cannot run from? I’d choose you in every lifetime.’

A cool hand stroked along his cheek. ‘You say such beautiful things and I can never match your words.’

‘I’ve had centuries to prepare them.’

Nesta tilted her head up to meet his lips as he cradled her still on his lap. Their flames danced together, oblivious to the heartache occurring on the bed. One day, Eris would tell his wife that he detested the idea of a mating bond forcing two together. The very idea revulsed him. He had met people who had waited their whole life for a mate who never arrived. Others who loved the bond more than their partner. The evidence for bonds being tragically wrong were littered throughout history.

‘I waited five hundred years to meet you.’

Her nose wrinkled. ‘Mother above, you’re ancient.’

‘In five hundred years, you will still be absolutely devastating and I will be old and shrivelled and sagging – and you will have to kiss me.’

Her thumb traced the seam of his lips. ‘I can’t wait to grow old with you.’

@owllover123 @rarephloxes @fanboy7794 @sugardoll22 @this-is-rochelle @kitkat-writes-stuff @sv0430 @embersofwildfire

#a court of tangled flames

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graycious-tea · 8 months

Text

Inner court angst ideas/prompts cus y’all apparently wanna hear my ideas 😂 (mainly Azris coded)

Rhys finds out about Azris and approach’s it from a political standpoint which leads to the whole argument of “oh but when it was feyre and she was engaged to a whole ass other high lord it’s fine” or amren she’s his number 2 (I think) and she has a romantic relationship with someone politically involved in summer court

The inner circle full on not believing eris is az’s mate. Eris charges in furious that all these people claiming to be azriels family aren’t supportive that he’s happy: “I just can’t wrap my mind around why you’re so against it, you’re his family- wait… oh I see… you don’t believe it do you? That’s what it is?!”

I love Azris raised Lucien so like they’ve been together for centuries and the ic is pissed they didn’t know

AZ KEEPING PSYCHO SECRETS LIKE A PRO FROM THE IC

Has az been in love with Mor all this time? Maybe. But I like she’s his beard but she doesn’t even know it, she full on thinks he’s in love with her

Az standing up for Nesta when ic are meanies (I used to hate Nesta but like silver flames? Sold me. Her journeys great (don’t come at me if you disagree pls))

Azriel scaring the ic with his power/emotions and their reactions destroying him

I’ve said this before but az and Rhys conflict about azriels job

Mor knowing that eris isn’t this irredeemable person (this is like a popular fan theory) but on the Azris side “I spent centuries thinking I was fated to a sick son of a bitch who’d nearly killed someone I love”

Badass Elain finding out Rhys and all them argue over her love life and shutting that shit down cus “um no if I wanna be with him I will it’s not up to you”

Eris stuck under the mountain while az is stuck in velaris… you can see where I’m going with this

Y’all know how Rhys told feyre azriels like basic life story after she’d met him like once?? I’d like him to be pissed about that pls and thanks

Rhys making a deal with one of the Illyrian lords or whatever so they have access to velaris leading to azriels dick head brothers and father access to him and his mother (yes she’s alive I will die on this hill)

I don’t know why but I have so much Rhys and az beef ideas… like Rhys’s dad trained az to be a killer that’s gotta f you up

Maybe az and eris aren’t even together yet but Rhys finds out about the mating bond so he low key fires az because it’s a “conflict of interest”

Az losing his shit cus the ic was mean to his boo

Mor and azriels whole thing like… you can’t convince me he doesn’t know and the whole reason he acts all distraught is because he knows she does this shit just to remind him they won’t happen as a couple even tho HE KNOWS

That also pisses me off a lil like Mor going “wait az did something sweet/psycho attacking eris for me so I gotta sleep with some dude so he doesn’t get the wrong idea” like wtf…

Anyway here’s my usual all swirling in my brain I wanna be clear tho I don’t anti any of these characters so pls don’t be in my comments all mean pls (damn this turned out long)

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a-court-of-valkyries · 2 years

Text

Neris Week Day One: Angst/Forbidden Love

Every inch of Nesta was crippled with anxiety as she stood waiting in the middle of the Illyrian woods. Morrigan had winnowed her here hours earlier after the fight with Cassian on the Sidra. Instead of going straight to Emerie’s, as Morrigan believed, she found herself here, deep within these woods and waiting for a certain male to arrive.

Cassian had raged at her that night for refusing to speak on the mating bond between them, had refused to understand Nesta’s unease and discomfort with it. He raged and spit whatever words he could to cut Nesta deepest until she bled from it.

“Well, I didn’t have a choice in being shackled to you, either.”

Shackled, because at the crux of it all, that was the only reason why Cassian had ever given Nesta any attention, why he had not cast her aside completely like the rest of the Inner Circle. He did not care for her. He did not want to be with her for who she was. He did not pick her. They were mates, a wicked bond cursed to them by the Cauldron. Whatever pull he felt towards Nesta did not come from his heart. He did not want to be with Nesta because he couldn’t imagine life without her. He wanted to be with her because he believed he was stuck with her and had no other choice in the matter. No one had ever chosen Nesta, and she was foolish to believe that he was the exception.

Cassian had always been possessive over her. Whenever given the chance, he couldn’t help but cut in to Nesta’s life to send everyone near a clear message: Nesta was his. But the problem was that Cassian never went out of his way to make Nesta feel like he was hers as well.

Well, that would no longer be an issue. Cassian would never again have to worry about being stuck with the wretched older sister that his family despised of so much. Not after tonight.

“You’re wasted at the Night Court.”

Nesta was prepared to accept Eris Vanserra’s proposal. She couldn’t deny that a part of her wanted to. She’d blamed it on the dancing and the music sweeping her up in the moment that night in the Court of Nightmares. Yet Nesta couldn’t help but wonder. The idea of wedding Eris brought a sense of ease to her in a way she couldn’t explain. When they danced, there had been a mutual understanding, an unspoken agreement, some sort of flame kindled between them. In some strange sort of way, Nesta had met an equal, someone who could understand her in ways no one else could and vice versa.

The snake and the witch. They’d make a perfect match.

“Absolutely wasted.”

Nesta glimpsed at her hand, thinking of a different male than the one she had been with tonight. She couldn’t help but think of how Eris held onto her when they danced. The memory of that night failed to leave her since; the feel of his hand pressed firmly on her back, the way his body pressed lightly against hers, how well and perfectly she fit in his arms as they danced, how Nesta’s heart sped at the feel of her hand in his. His touch sent shivers all throughout her body. It was a wholly different feeling compared to being in Cassian’s presence.

“Don’t believe the lies they tell you about me.”

Nesta didn’t fully trust Eris, but what if he was her only ticket out of the Night Court? Nesta could think of no other permanent solution to keep Cassian away unless she was wed to a possible future high lord. Besides, Nesta had always known she’d marry a prince. Her mother trained and molded her for such a feat. Nesta was merely gaining back a piece of her life that had been taken from her. This was one of the few choices she could call her own.

“I’d rather have her than that.”

Nesta heard Eris’s words even from where she danced on the dance floor as he rejected the blade she had Made. It sent her heart racing to hear those words. A male who barely knew her was choosing her when her own mate never could.

Eris had gifted her a pen and paper in secret that night after they danced. He had found her when she was alone. “If you choose accept my proposal, Nesta Archeron, write to me and I will come find you.” It had been small and easy enough to carry around at all times. Over the weeks, Nesta would fiddle the pen between her fingers as it lay in her pocket, her only outward sign of anxiousness as she thought over his proposal.

“We’ll play later, Nesta Archeron.”

As if summoned by his own words, the heir of the Autumn Court winnowed in front of Nesta in all his faerie elegance. Nesta’s heart raced at the sight of him and the wicked smirk adorned on his face, but she kept her face stoic as he surveyed her with eyes of feral delight.

“Nesta Archeron, I certainly am glad to hear from you. Have you made your decision yet?”

“Yes, I have.” Nesta raised her chin and made herself keep her hands still at her side despite the nerves. “Eris Vanserra, I wish to accept your proposal.” Eris grinned wider, and went to take a step towards her when Nesta said, “But before I do, I wish to make a bargain with you.”

“Oh?” Eris contemplated her words before taking another graceful step towards her. “And what are your conditions, my lady?”

“First, I will only come to the Autumn Court as long as my two friends accompany me. They are to be protected and unharmed while they are there.”

Eris took another step from where he was five feet away from her. His eyes were lit with amusement. “Deal.”

“Second, I am to be your equal always. You are to be my husband and I your wife. I want us to be able to trust each other and work as a team. You can never betray me nor I you.”

Another step. He was mere inches away from her now. “Fair enough. And your last command?” he asked with a smirk.

When Nesta answered, her voice was as hard as ice. “You can never say you hate me. Or that you are shackled to me.”

Nesta almost missed it: the way Eris’s eyes hardened, how his jaw clenched, the anger reflected in his eyes. It was there and gone in a flash. He didn’t answer for a moment as he looked down at Nesta. The smirk was gone, his face serious now. His stare burned into her, and Nesta felt it everywhere. Her heart raced at his gaze, yet she refused to look away.

“Never,” he answered, his voice genuine and firm. Nesta relaxed slightly at that, and in Eris’s eyes, she could see every promise he was ready to make for her. They would be equals, allies, husband and wife. A new bond was being forged, one of Nesta’s own choosing this time. The snake and the witch. The Lord and the Lady.

“What do you want in return?” Nesta asked, slightly breathless.

“I already have what I want,” Eris answered simply. He bowed as he took her hand in his, kissing it gently. “My betrothed,” he whispered against her skin, his eyes never leaving hers.

@nerisweek

#nesta archeron #eris vanserra #neris #nesta x eris #neris week #neris appreciation week 2022

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andrigyn · 1 year

Text

Chapter Five

Putting out two chapters this week for @nestaarcheronweek !

The Vanserras don’t exactly roll out the red carpet for their new house guest, but Nesta is fascinated nevertheless by Autumn. Cassian has trouble coping with the fact that Nesta is now gone, but he must set that aside to deal with the rebellion in Illyria.

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Nesta recalled Eris’s parting words again, when he told her that she ought to look her best. She wasn’t sure what precisely he meant by that, but she picked out one of her nicer gowns to wear. It was pewter colored, with a neckline that swept just under her collarbone. The dress was simple, yet it was fitted enough in the bodice to accentuate the prominent curves of her chest and waist. She also decided to keep her hair in its usual coronet, but sat in front of the vanity to pull it loose and rebraid it. By the time she was finished, there wasn’t a strand out of place.

She could tell by the time on the clock that Eris would be there any minute, and soon she heard his quiet knock at the door. “Come in,” she said.

Nesta looked up from the mirror to steal a glance. He had changed into a more formal double breasted green coat with a white shirt peeking out from underneath. His hair had been tamed, and his pants were more fitted than what she’d seen him in earlier. It wasn’t just the clothes that made him look so utterly aristocratic, but they did help.

She rose from her seat. “Do I look acceptable?”

Eris’s gaze moved from her head all the way down to the hem of her dress. “Gray is such a drab color, but you are lovely enough to make it look elegant.”

She raised her eyebrow and pursed her lips. “Flattery will get you nowhere with me, Vanserra.”

“I don’t do flattery, I only tell the truth. We should go, we’ll be late as it is.”

She walked up to his side, and once he knew she was ready, he led her into the corridor.

“Another piece of advice I have for you,” he said, flashing those deep brown eyes in her direction as they walked side by side, “is to stay silent unless you are addressed directly.”

“Fine by me,” Nesta said brusquely. She thought she would have preferred scooping her eyeballs out with a rusty spoon than talking to them anyways. What could she possibly have to say? She found it exceedingly difficult to find any common ground with the inner circle, and the Vanserras were likely cut from the same cloth. How foolish she had been when she first came to Prythian, and assumed that her expertise as a human socialite would help her here.

“I’ll do my best to answer for you when possible, because my father in particular can be rather sensitive, it would take you decades to learn every little thing that could set him off. Here, take my arm,” he said, extending his forearm.

Nesta linked hers with his, and felt through the layers of fabric how solid it was. She couldn’t help but wonder what his arms might look like. He didn’t seem like the type to parade around shirtless like some certain males she knew, which made her all the more fascinated. The pair strode into the dining room together. It was a grand space with a vaulted ceiling. Colorful tapestries and pendants covered most of the stone walls, illuminated by the soft glow of candlelight. It was even more impressive to Nesta, because she now knew that each of those flames was lit by magic.

Judging by the full table, they were the last to arrive. The Lord and Lady of Autumn both sat at the two opposing heads of the table, and Eris’s five brothers occupied the remaining places. There were two empty seats to Beron’s right, which she assumed were meant for the newly engaged couple. Eris led them there, and pulled out her chair. She sat down, and so did he.

A servant came around with wine to fill everyone’s glasses, and Nesta instantly felt on edge. She was not allowed to drink anymore, and her first thought was that this could have been some kind of elaborate test. She assured herself that nobody from the Night Court was here to tell her what she could or could not drink, but even so, she did not want to take that first sip. There was no telling whether or not she’d be able to control herself if she introduced alcohol again. But on the other hand, it might be strange, rude even, if she refused. So she reached for the glass, and took the smallest sip she thought she’d ever taken in her life. She still felt guilty afterwards.

“You’re late,” Beron remarked in an unimpressed fashion. He looked at Eris with a casual disappointment.

“My apologies, father, we lost track of time,” Eris said. Hearing how docile his voice became once they were in Beron’s presence was unsettling to say the least.

“But you’ve brought us the lovely Nesta Archeron, who needs no introduction.” The High Lord looked directly at her when he spoke, with a piercing gaze that made her feel uneasy. He stared at her so intently, that maintaining eye contact felt unnatural. She did it anyway though, and even offered an affable smile.

“Does she speak? I recall her having more of a mouth on her the last time we met,” he said, turning to face Eris, who was looking at Nesta. She knew that she’d have to say something, so she let the words fall out.

“I truly am quiet, please understand that stress got the best of me during the war. Once you get to know me better, you’ll see that.”

“Are you questioning my judgment?” Beron asked. His tone shifted, but it was impossible to discern whether he was being sarcastic or not.

Nesta wanted to throw her head back and laugh at the thought of someone so easily offended by an explanation that he wasn’t owed in the first place. There were so many things she wanted to say, as he was practically inviting her insults with a statement like that. However, before she could say anything, Eris kicked her leg softly with his foot under the table. She could sense that it meant something along the lines of ‘Stop talking’.

“Of course that isn’t what she meant. Nesta is deeply regretful of the way she acted during the High Lord’s meeting, and wishes for you to give her another chance,” Eris said.

Nesta nodded in agreement, but she couldn’t miss the opportunity to kick the male, even if it was petty. Eris’s face didn’t change at all as he anticipated Beron’s response. She didn’t have to look around the table to know that the rest of the family was collectively staring her down, she could just feel it.

“It shouldn’t matter anymore, Prythian was reborn after the war with Hybern. There’s no need to carry grudges into this new era,” Beron said.

Nesta thought that was a strange thing to say. She took a real sip of her wine this time, because it seemed like she was going to need something in her system. Dinner was served eventually, and she took a few bites before pushing the rest of the food around her plate in silence. There was more conversation, but no one addressed her again, so she stayed out of it.

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After the meal was over, Nesta and Eris left the dining room. Once they were in the hallway and out of earshot, Eris turned to her. “You need to choose your words more carefully.”

“That was me choosing my words carefully.”

“Try harder next time, then.”

Nesta scowled at him. “Why don’t you try harder to divert the attention away from me in the first place? Isn’t that what you said you’d do anyways?”

“You’re a novelty, get used to it. Or better yet, use it to your advantage.”

“There are no advantages to speak of, I’d give it all up if I only had the chance,” she snapped. Just the insinuation that there was any benefit to being thrown into the Cauldron filled her with rage. It had broken her completely, to the point where she cried every time she took a bath, she drank to forget about that power lying dormant inside of her, begging to be used, as it slowly drove her mad.

“Don’t be a fool, Nesta. You have been gifted with magic beyond what I could ever dream of possessing.”

“But I cannot wield its power, Amren gave up on training me months ago,” she said. This was true, albeit not the whole truth. She did spend many long days with Amren, who took her on as a project out of curiosity. Through all of her exercises and tests, she was never able to perform, although Nesta had been holding back.

“I never imagined that such an ancient being could be so impatient, but perhaps Amren just isn’t a very good teacher.”

“The power has surfaced before, multiple times even,” she explained, “But it seems to be triggered by strong emotions, like anger, and I have no control over it.” Nesta recalled the first incident, when she incinerated her room in the Townhouse with silver flames. The fire blazed, and threatened to engulf the entire building before Rhysand put it out. All caused by one measly nightmare.

“Would you like me to engineer a situation designed to make you angry, then? Is that what you’re asking?”

“No, I don’t want that. You don’t understand how dark this magic is, it’s unnatural.”

Eris smirked. “I urge you to reconsider, but when you change your mind and decide you do want my help, just say so. I still owe you a tour though, don’t I?”

“You do,” Nesta said, and those were the only words he needed to hear before his demeanor shifted. Perhaps he’d broach the subject of her magic again soon, but in that moment all he was concerned about was showing her the house.

She thought that Eris must have loved the sound of his own voice, because in every room they visited, he regaled her with some story about it. She couldn’t complain, because she rather liked listening to him. This house was ancient. It contained so much history, because so much life had been lived here.

“And this is the main ballroom, which is mainly used for special occasions.”

Nesta nodded as they walked past the tall, arched entrance. They traveled to the end of the hall, and down another set of stairs.

“And this is the library,” he said, pushing the door open to reveal a spacious room full of books. It was larger than the library she had come to know in the House of Wind, and there were no priestesses to tend to it either. The dark green walls were barely visible behind the rows and rows of dark wooden bookshelves. A large couch and some chairs sat in front of a large fireplace, and fortunately Nesta didn’t hear a fire crackling and blazing inside of it.

“Nobody should bother you in here, my brothers are not exactly the intellectual type. They are far too busy with their hunting, drinking, and womanizing.” Eris rolled his eyes.

This place would seem empty without Gwyn to keep her company, but at least she wouldn’t have to stack and organize books any longer. There were many things about this realm that she ought to know, but didn’t. She was allowed to be ignorant in Velaris, because the place was just an elaborate bubble, but those days were over. Now, she had endless time to conduct research, or to see how the romance collection here compared to the House of Wind.

“And there’s one more thing,” Eris said, “Do you like dogs?”

She nodded.

“I should introduce you now then, it’s not often that they meet someone new… unless they’re attacking,” he said.

Nesta’s eyes widened, and she couldn’t help that his words put her on edge. Despite this, she followed him through the halls and out the door. They came to a vast yard enclosed by a simple log fence. There was probably no fence that could restrain a magical dog, so she guessed it was a pasture for cows, or goats at one time. When she looked out, she counted twelve of them darting to and fro, more rapidly than she had seen any animal move before.

“Don’t worry, Nesta, they only attack if I say so,” he said. Once the hounds realized their master was present, they ran immediately to his side. “So don’t piss me off.”

She looked at him intently, and he only laughed. “Go on, you can pet them.”

Nesta extended a shaky hand to stroke one of them, and once she felt comfortable enough that it would not bite, she scratched behind its ear.

“Phobos is his name,” Eris added, although she wasn’t paying much attention to him. Nesta was fully focused on the hound in front of her, and once it seemed that she had shown she was to be trusted, the rest of them approached and nuzzled against her. She couldn’t help but smile at the attention, and there was genuine joy behind it.

“Well they’re very cute,” Nesta said. Her voice was raised a few octaves, and she was still facing away. Eris couldn’t tell whether she was talking to him, or the hounds, but he looked pleased to see her so happy.

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It did not take Cassian long to realize that his days were now empty without Nesta by his side. It didn’t matter that he had spent hundreds of years without her company, because everything changed the moment that he first laid eyes on her. The regret that he felt for not trying harder to prevent her from being sent away in the first place weighed on him so greatly that nothing could ease his stress. The reason was simple: before she left, the mating bond snapped.

It snapped into place, and all Cassian could think about was her, how he could stay close to her, touch her, smell her. If only they were still in the House of Wind, then they could, well…

He was certain that Rhys could sense it as well, which was why the High Lord didn’t just tell him to go away. No, he pushed through the barriers of Cassian’s mind to compel him to leave, before he could act on the violent desires that now gripped him. And the thoughts of Nesta still overwhelmed him, but he had no means of seeing her, as the Autumn wards were too powerful for him to fly through uninvited. For now, his only outlet was training, although even Azriel was quickly growing tired of sparring so frequently.

It wouldn’t be long before Rhys gave him something productive to do, although they continued to train the Valkyries. His orders were to travel to Illyria, and bring the High Lord’s royal decree to the camp leaders whom Az claimed were most disloyal. It had to be the general who was sent, because there was nobody else that was trusted and liked by the Illyrians, even if Cassian had already lost most of their respect. There was still time, after all, to quell the revolutionary spirit that was spreading in the north before blood was spilled.

That was why he sat across from Devlon now, in a drafty tent, trying his best to explain why he should listen to his High Lord. The absurdity of the entire situation was made evident by the fact that Rhys would not simply come here himself, although Cassian noticed how reclusive he was becoming. He was not as difficult to spot as Feyre these days, but his absence was felt regardless. If the Illyrians decided that his focus was drawn elsewhere, why wouldn’t they rebel?

“Things are not looking good,” Devlon explained, “I don’t recommend you travel further north, you won’t be welcomed by any of the camp leaders. They see you as a traitor..”

“But I have brought their grievances before their High Lord, and he has agreed to the following concessions, in order to avoid a civil war,” Cassian said, passing the signed piece of paper over to Devlon. He inspected it for a moment before shaking his head in disapproval.

“Lowering their taxes isn’t enough, why would they care about this when there is talk of forming an independent country? There would be no taxes at all then, no troop quotas… You’re better off touring the southern camps, and convincing them to remain loyal to the crown. This is a mockery-”

It was true that the south was more prosperous, and therefore far less likely to risk their security in a bid for independence. Not only did they have more flat land suitable for farming, but their camps resembled something more like the towns or large cities in other courts. They had real buildings, and were far more industrialized than their neighbors to the north, thanks to capital investment from Velaris and the Hewn City. However, the northern camps were not to be underestimated when it came to combat.

“Those were not my orders,” Cassian said.

Devlon raised an eyebrow. “I suppose I cannot stop you, but at least take one of my men with you if you insist on going. There’s safety in numbers.”

He nodded in reply. Azriel would have journeyed this far north with Cassian, but he didn’t want to ask that of him. The trip would be sure to bring up old memories for the shadowsinger that ought to stay buried.

“Balthazar!” the camp leader shouted, and a young male walked through the entrance to the tent. He was of average height and build, but his face had a boyish quality to it.

“This is my companion? He looks like a child. Has he even completed the Rite yet?” Cassian scoffed.

“Looks aren’t everything, general. He is to participate in the Blood Rite this year, but he is a skilled warrior who hails from farther north, so he will be an asset to you.”

“I was born and raised in Stansonview, sir,” Balthazar said. He stood straight, almost too straight. Cassian wondered if he fought in the war, or if he was yet untested by battle. Although this mission didn’t require combat, the Lord of Bloodshed’s presence was meant to be a show of strength on Rhys’s behalf, and Balthazar didn’t quite look the part.

“It’s your lucky day then, because that’s stop number three on my list. You can tell your mother how much you’ve missed her,” Cassian said. He rose from his chair and clapped the younger male on the back. “Are you ready to leave?”

“Give me an hour to gather my things,” he explained.

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As soon as Balthazar was ready, the pair left. The trip would take a day and a half, so they spent hours and hours soaring in the air above the rugged terrain of Illyria. It was impossibly cold, but Cassian didn’t mind. In fact, this was exactly the type of distraction he needed so that he couldn’t focus on the fact that his mate was with another male. He could see it all unfolding so clearly, Eris would lie to her like the snake he was. He would turn her against the Night Court, and seduce her. Surely he would want to keep the female for himself, even after Beron was killed, because she was made. No, Cassian would raise hell before he allowed that to happen, and he would have the support of his family. Rhys would never stand by as his brother was separated from his mate.

Once dusk fell, he signaled to Balthazar that they should stop flying for the day. Once the two males landed at the clearing, they began setting up camp.

Balthazar stood above the pile of sticks he had just gathered, and worked at starting a fire. He glanced over at the general, who was pitching his tent. “You’re awfully quiet,” he said.

“What would you have me say? You could very well be a spy for all I know.”

The younger male shrugged. “I don’t know, it’s not everyday I’m asked to accompany the Lord of Bloodshed on a mission. I think that if I didn’t say anything, my friends would never let me hear the end of it.”

“You’re little more than a boy, you’ll meet people far more interesting than me in your lifetime,” Cassian said.

They finished setting up camp, ate a quick dinner, and retired early. At the crack of dawn the next morning, they set out again. The plan was to start in Windhaven, and move from camp to camp until they reached the northernmost settlement, but Telpont would be a good place to start. Cassian anticipated that they might not be too far gone. Perhaps they would listen to reason.

Once they arrived, they were led by the sentries guarding the border to the only stone building in town, where the camp leader Faolan resided. The older, graying male was seated behind a table, which was covered in maps. Cassian walked through the room slowly, until he was standing at the edge of the table with Balthazar to his side.

“I should have ordered my men to shoot you down from the skies when they saw you,” Faolan said.

“But you didn’t, perhaps because you know that they are not capable,” Cassian said. His austere tone let the male know that he was indeed serious, although it was mainly his physical size that the general relied on to intimidate others.

Faolan scoffed. “What I know is that life amongst the high Fae has made you soft. My men could kill you and the boy that you’ve brought along without breaking a sweat.”

This type of posturing was not unusual among Illyrian males. Cassian wondered if people truly did think of him as weak, and made a mental note to ask Az and his shadows. This reputation that he had built for himself was all he had. He was certainly not of noble birth, and he depended on Rhys for all of the money and companionship that he did have. The only person who was truly his was Nesta, and the Cauldron has decided to play a cruel joke and rip her away as soon as he recognized the bond.

“Enough pleasantries, I’ve brought you a list of concessions from your High Lord.”

Faolan laughed. “Concessions? Your Lord has nothing to offer me. Have you considered what your father might say if he were here, if he could see his spineless son?”

Cassian was fuming at the mention of a father he would never know, who never had the opportunity to be proud or ashamed of his son. However, he didn’t let his temper get this best of him this time. He took the letter and slid it over to Faolan with a blank stare. “Don’t worry about what my dead father might think, worry about your people and their future.”

“Believe me, I am,” he said, “Because I respect you and your position, I will allow you to stay the night, but you are to leave first thing in the morning. Do not return, and tell your High Lord that the people of Telpont do not find his terms acceptable.”

Tag List: @tuzna-pesma-snova , @majestythewraith , @acotardeservesbetter , @joonsbratz

#nestaweek2023 #neris #nesta x eris #nesta archeron #eris vanserra #a swing in the dark #andy's writing #it's time to start putting cassian in Situations #I felt bad for him when I was writing this ngl #also nesta meets the dogs and they love her bc of course they would : )

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