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bongo-clash · 1 year

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If I had a nickel for every billionaire that tried to kidnap me, I’d have two nickels, which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice

DP/DC week prompt: Mistaken Identity

'Look, in Bruce Wayne’s defence, he has a lot of children with black hair and blue eyes, and he’d had a very long day. But in Danny’s defence, he has no idea what’s happening right now and, according to his previous experience in being kidnapped by billionaires, his reaction is incredibly reasonable.'

(No content warnings || fic under cut!!)

Danny’s been in Gotham for about a week with his family, and so far it’s honestly been one of their most relaxing vacations to date. Sure, the drive had been long and finding a place to park the RV had been unsurprisingly difficult, but once the initial getting-there-fanfare was over with, everything had been great. The whole ‘not my circus, not my monkeys’ thing had been amazing for his anxiety. The famous Batman was more than capable of dealing with his peanut gallery without some random dead kid intercepting.

Okay, he was a little bit worried about Batman’s ‘no metas’ thing, but there was no good reason the vigilante would find out that little tidbit. It’s not like he’s even a meta in the first place! Being dead is a medical condition. Regardless, he’s doing the sensible thing and not making a show of himself; he may have flown over the top of the city invisibly on the first night to get some good shots to send to his friends, but no one needed to know about that but Sam and her gothic-architecture-inspo wall.

The hotel they’re staying at has good breakfast, the buildings in the inner city look cool as Hell, they already have heroes dealing with their issues so Danny doesn’t have to do anything, and there’s no ghosts barging into his room but the constant chaos of the city still feels homey. Overall, a ten out of ten vacation spot.

Surely, nothing can go wrong.

“Tim? What are you doing here?”

He’s taking a morning walk away from the hotel after he and Jazz successfully convinced their parents he would be fine on his own, and he’d stopped in front of Wayne Enterprises because Tucker would be frankly offended if he didn’t. He ignores the call at first, because he doesn’t know anyone named Tim, and it’s not his business, but that’s clearly shown to be a mistake when the call comes again but closer, and then again, but with a man putting his hand on Danny’s shoulder. He’s turns around to tell whoever it is to clear off when he actually catches sight of the guy’s face.

Sleek black hair, sky-blue eyes, a healthy tan and a very expensive suit. That’s Bruce Wayne. Bruce Wayne as in the guy who owns the building in front of them. Bruce Wayne as in the multi-billionaire.

Okay, don’t get him wrong, Bruce Wayne does some pretty honourable charity work, and his tech is pretty cool and Tucker’s obsessed with it, but Danny has a very sour history with billionaires and even before he’d met Vlad he wasn’t a fan of them; being friends with Sam for long enough does that to a guy. Dealing with the fruitloop had only cemented what he already knew, and that’s that you shouldn’t trust people that rich as far as you can throw them (or, maybe just not at all, since he figures he could actually throw them pretty damn far, considering the ghost powers).

Plus, Bruce ‘Brucie’ Wayne has this really weird habit of acting like a ditz, and quite frankly, Danny doesn’t buy it. He’s been successfully running a huge company and heading welfare campaigns for years, and if he’s truly as air-headed as he presents himself to be Vlad would’ve snatched up his company and his wealth in a heartbeat. Vlad, who is the other billionaire he knows, who is also pretending to be something he’s not with the whole ‘gentle hermit’ vibe he maintains with the press. No, there’s definitely something weird about Bruce Wayne and he hadn’t particularly wanted to meet the guy to find out what it is.

However, it’s looking like he doesn’t have much choice, what with the man having a hand on his shoulder and being about ten inches from his face. “Uh.” He blurts eloquently. “Hi?”

“Tim,” He repeats, frowning. “Why are you here? I told you to take the day off- don’t tell me you were just planning on sneaking off to work anyway.”

Danny’s certain Tucker mentioned some co-CEO of Wayne Enterprises called Tim, and he’s fairly certain Tucker mentioned he was the same age as them and also Bruce’s ward, but do they really look similar? No one’s ever said they do to his face, and he thought that was the kind of thing people talked about- the whole ‘who’s your celebrity lookalike’. So why-?

…Tucker also mentioned that almost all of Bruce Wayne’s wards have the same black hair and blue eyes. He’d even joked how Danny ‘fit the bill’. Oh no. What if this is an obsession-with-having-a-son-just-like-him thing? Do all billionaires do that or is that just Vlad? He could really do with someone else to compare the guy to that isn’t the fruitloop right now- it’d be really great to have some kind of gauge amongst general average billionaire behaviour so that he actually knew what to do.

Staying quiet to gather his thoughts was apparently not his greatest move, though, because the man’s frown only deepens. Bruce Wayne’s hand moves from the top of his shoulder to his arm, giving it a light squeeze that seems like it’s supposed to be comforting but really just makes him more nervous. “I’m taking you back to the manor. You were supposed to take a day off and I really think relaxing would do you some good.”

Now, there are a lot of things Danny could do to absolve this situation, and the smartest of all of them would be to inform him that there’s been a misunderstanding and that he’s just some random tourist who’d been wanting to take some pictures.

“I— what- can’t you just leave me here? Don’t you need to go in there?” Is what he says instead, because fight, flight, or freeze apparently includes brain freeze too. His mom was right, he never should’ve been allowed out unsupervised. Why didn’t he bring Jazz with him?

“The meeting can wait, you’re more important.” The man soothes, and suddenly the hand on his arm is pulling him away, leading him over to an incredibly expensive car and Danny’s so bewildered by the whole situation he doesn’t even fight back. He stands there, limp, as Bruce Wayne opens the car doors, nudges him inside, starts the engine, and drives further and further away from Danny’s hotel.

They’ve been driving for about twenty minutes before his stupor finally breaks, and by then they’ve fully left the bustle of the inner city and entered the sparsely populated realm of high society estates— Bristol, he thinks it was called? Doesn’t matter. He needs to get out and he needed to be out yesterday; he can’t believe he ever thought he could have a remotely sensible vacation. Let your guard down one time and you get kidnapped by a man with more money than everyone else in the state combined (though, to be fair, that sounds more normal given his circumstances than it should. Still, the billionaire being Bruce Wayne isn’t normal).

Now, there are a lot of things Danny could do to absolve this situation, and the smartest of all of them would be tell Bruce Wayne that he’d been too shocked to refute the man, but he wasn’t actually his son, and had finally gathered his bearings to say so and was very sorry for causing him undue stress.

Instead, Danny jumps out of a moving car.

Distantly registering the yell of alarm and the screech of the vehicle pulling to a sudden stop, he tanks the roll and springs back up again, taking in his surroundings for all of a second before sprinting in the opposite direction of wherever they’d been going. Bruce Wayne is definitely chasing after him- he can hear the heavy footfalls pounding behind him- but Danny’s been running from his problems for years. There’s no way he’s letting them catch up to him now.

He rounds a corner and disappears into thin air, because Batman’s not a day time hero so what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him and surely he’d get that Danny was only doing it for the sake of his personal safety. I mean, who’s he to say that Bruce Wayne doesn’t layer on his fortunes with the occasional ransom situation? …Maybe not the best excuse he’s ever come up with, but the damage is done now, and he drifts away for a few more minutes until he figures he’s far enough from his initial launch point that he can drop the invisibility.

Looking around, he can tell that he’s definitely lost, his surroundings still reeking of big money and the actual meat of the city barely hanging on the horizon. Well, technically he’s not that lost, given that he can still see inner-Gotham from here, but he doesn’t know where the Hell his hotel is in all that grey, and the walk looks far. While he was willing to risk the momentary power-usage to get himself out of the billionaire’s sights, he figures that trying anything else would be pushing his luck a bit further than it was willing to take him.

He must’ve been thinking about it for a lot longer than he realised, though, because he hears a quiet thud behind him, and there is now a vigilante blocking his exit. Long-ish black hair, an admonishing expression, and a black and blue outfit with a bird decal.

That’s one of the Bats. NIghtwing, he thinks?

Aren’t they all supposed to be nighttime vigilantes?

As if hearing his questions, the taller man tuts, bringing his hands to his hips like his mom does when he breaks curfew. He hasn’t got out the electric-stick-things that he’s pretty sure the guy owns, so that’s good. “Tim,” He starts, tone starkly disappointed, and- hold on, why is Nightwing on a first name basis with the Wayne Enterprises CEO? “I thought B told you to take today off.”

Hold on, that’s a weird thing for a vigilante to know about the Wayne Enterprises CEO, and- Danny’s assuming B means Bruce Wayne- why is he using such a casual nickname for the billionaire? Do they know each other? He supposes it makes sense if they’re all in cahoots, since the Bats’ stuff does seem pretty expensive-looking, but he’d honestly kind of assumed Batman was just some rich reclusive vampire or something. Like Vlad but morally-reversed.

Unless Batman is still a billionaire and not just funded by Bruce Wayne. Nightwing knowing the Tim guy would make sense, then, given they might see each other at rich people things. But, actually, would that make sense? Vigilante socialites don’t usually go around telling their other socialite friends that they’re vigilantes, do they?

Unless Batman is Bruce Wayne. But that’s ridiculous. He’d figured the guy was hiding something, and the hoard of children is kind of indicative of a weird guy generally, but the man being some kind of edgy bat-themed hero in his spare time was just too ridiculous. There’s no way.

…

…Holy shit. Batman is totally Bruce Wayne.

That means that Nightwing is probably one of Bruce Wayne’s many sons, which means that he’s one of Tim Drake-Wayne’s many brothers, which means Bruce Wayne may have called him to chase him down and bring him back to the manor. Even though they shouldn’t be doing that because he isn’t Tim Drake.

Now, there are a lot of things Danny could do to absolve this situation, and the smartest of all of them would be tell Nightwing that by some hilarious comedy-of-errors, Bruce Wayne had mistaken him for his son Tim the CEO when he is in fact Danny Fenton the tourist, and he’s very sorry for the fuss he’s caused, but he should probably call his sister to pick him up now, thank you very much.

Instead, Danny feints left and tries to dash out the corner he’d trapped himself in from Nightwing’s other side. Nightwing grabs him like a small dog with one arm and raises a grappling hook to the nearest roof. Danny feels like this is probably karma for all the property damage he’s caused in Amity as they’re flung violently across roofs higher than his town’s tallest apartment complex. He is quickly discovering that being airborne is actually so much worse when you’re not the one in control.

He doesn’t have an awful lot of time to ponder this, however, because they reach what Danny assumes is the Wayne residence soon after. Nightwing does an absolutely terrifying set of flips as they careen over to the other side of the ledge the mansion is on, and lets him go when they’re on the ground to put a finger against his hear, presumably to some communication device.

“I’ve got him, B! We’re outside the Batcave now- yep, all safe- see you in a sec!”

…They’re outside the what now?

Nightwing slings an arm over his shoulder- some mix of friendliness and making sure he doesn’t run away- and leads him into a concealed entrance against the ledge just beneath the Wayne mansion.

He has to be hallucinating at this point. There are actual bats in here. The whole place is scary and dark and gigantic and—is that a fucking dinosaur?

“Tim!”

And, as if just to cement how utterly absurd today has been, Bruce Wayne is striding towards them with an expression contorted by worry, and he feels bad right up until the moment the guy cups his face with his calloused hands (calloused because he’s Batman, what the Hell). “Tim, I was so worried,” He croaks. “What happened back there? Why did you jump out the car?”

Now, there are a lot of things Danny could do to absolve this situation, and finally, finally, he-

“What the Hell is happening right now.” He blurts, taking a sharp step back and letting the hand fall from his face, watching as surprise falls over the men next to him like an overcast.

Okay, maybe not the the smartest thing he could’ve said, but not the worst thing either, and that’s probably the biggest win he’s going to get today, so he’ll take it. “What are you talking about?” Nightwing asks gently, reminding him rather neatly that he is still in an absolutely gigantic pile of shit, seeing as he’s now going to have to explain that they have all made some very big mistakes today.

“Uh, okay, so funny story- and you have to promise not to like, beat the shit out of me or whatever-“ He ignores the horrified faces they make at that, nervousness leaking out into a hysterical laugh. “But, uh, a very bad thing has happened, and— it’s like, fine! I won’t tell anyone if you won’t tell anyone, it’s totally chill and I’m really great at keeping secrets-!”

Bruce Wayne cuts him off, looking terribly concerned. “Tim, whatever’s going on, we’ll-“

“I’m not Tim!”

The moment the words are out of his mouth, he backs away with his hands raised placatingly, panic heightened by the way the two men freeze in their tracks. “I am so sorry,” Danny chokes, figuring he can’t dig himself into any deeper of a grave than he already has. “I was just- I was outside Wayne Enterprises to take pictures and when you came up to me I had no idea what to do so I just froze, and by the time I came to I was in your car and like, I was kind of scared you were kidnapping me? Because I kind of have a history with billionaires and kidnapping so I just panicked and jumped out the car but that made everything worse ‘cause you chased me and now I’m in the Batcave and you’re Batman and-“

There is a very long pause when Danny’s words fail him. The Batcave is very quiet beyond the chittering of bats on the ceiling.

“You have a history with billionaires and kidnapping?” Nightwing asks, like literally nothing else he’d said registered.

Quite frankly, Danny does not want to know what their expressions are like. Averting his eyes, he replies- “That was definitely a weird thing for me to say. Sorry. Uh, yeah.”

“Are you safe?”

What is happening? “Like… right now? I mean, so long as you aren’t gonna feed me to that dinosaur then yeah; I’m just in Gotham for vacation. I don’t- it was a very nice vacation. Until like half an hour ago. Now it’s a stressful vacation.”

Bruce Wayne, to his credit, is not trying to kill him for his knowledge of the man’s secret vigilantism, which already makes him better than the only other billionaire he knows. The man drags a hand down his face, looking stressed beyond belief. “I should’ve known you weren’t Tim,” He breathes. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“Yeah, now that I’m actually hearing you talk, you sound nothing like him. Bruce, were you actually listening when he was talking to you before you shoved him in the car? This guy’s midwestern. What happened to world’s greatest detective, B?” Nightwing snorts and, wow, they’re not taking this half as badly as he thought they would. And, hey, now that he’s thinking about it, these are the first actual vigilantes he’s ever met outside of himself and Valerie, and wouldn’t it be a waste not to ask them for pointers?

Maybe it’s not the best idea in the world, but he already knows their secret identities and they’re being chill about it, so maybe they’ll be chill with his, too. Screw it, he’s doing it.

“Again, I promise I won’t tell anyone- I’m, ah, pretty good with secrets like this.” They turn to look at him curiously there, and he tries to talk past the lump in his throat. “I’m kind of, um, also a vigilante as well? Funny coincidence, right? Small town gig, though, nothing like Gotham! And I’ve only been on the scene a few years, so… I don’t know what I’m asking, here. Any good pointers?”

Nightwing looks thoughtful. “Does this have anything to do with the billionaire you mentioned?” He asks.

“It very much has a lot to do with the billionaire. If Vlad Masters ever asks you for anything- I dunno, punch him? He’s got a really punchable face, you’d know if you met him. It’s all creepy and shit.”

Nightwing continues asking questions as Bruce Wayne’s head remains firmly buried in his hands, and sure, maybe letting this well-established team of heroes know about his less-than-legal and more-than-ectoplasmic hobbies might come back to bite him, but right now he can’t help basking in the fact that he gets to bad-mouth Vlad to someone who Vlad will probably care about his reputation with. Everything else comes second.

“-Hang on, you said you’ve been a vigilante for a few years, right? How old are you?”

Okay, almost everything comes second. Both men are looking at him now with something that’s probably-definitely concern and is getting worse the longer he neglects to answer, and Danny is very suddenly reminded once again that the majority of Bruce’s children fit the same appearance-criteria as he does.

He’s just doubled his own problem, hasn’t he? It’s not just one anymore-he’s going to have to deal with two billionaires now.

He’s never going on vacation again.

#dp/dc week 2022 #It turns out Tim Did actually sneak out to work on his day off #But he fell asleep at his desk so he didn't answer any of Bruce's calls #And now Danny's fending off threats of adoption with a stick #Tim and Danny aren't even twins or anything. They have literally Nothing to do with each other Danny's just a lookalike with horrible luck #If there's any mistakes please just ignore them I read it over once and I just wanted to get it out into the world #Exciting news tho!! I'm posting another thing for the peacock au for tomorrow's prompt :)#dpxdc #Bongo's Writing!!!

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lucienarcheron · 26 days

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Spirit Meets the Bones - XI

Genre: Angst/Romance Warnings: Mentions of physical abuse. Please be mindful: some implied language may be found triggering.

shoutout to my darling @abruisedmuse for being on this journey with me! ily4ever <3

Find it all here.

Eris stood with his hands clasped behind his back, unbothered as Beron glared at him, per usual. His thumb tapped on the back of his hand as he stood, reigning in his anger that always flared at the sight of his father.

“What is this I hear about the breach in security on the southern border between us and that piece of shit Tamlin?”

Eris tilted his head. “Oh? I thought that was the territory you requested your sentries to oversee, Father? Did something happen?”

“You tell me.” Beron snarled. “Aren’t you the one who is supposed to be responsible for ensuring things like this don’t occur?”

“Yes. I am the one responsible for all security measures of our court.” Eris said and gave his father a small smile. “But again Father, you recently requested a particular group of sentries to oversee that specific area and for me to remove myself from it...I believe it houses a private resident for you? For your...dalliances?”

The High Lord scowled at his son, but Eris only blinked. “Watch that tone, boy. That’s none of your business.”

“Then I’m afraid whatever security breach happened is also none of my business, Father.”

A tense moment of silence passed, and Eris braced himself as his father narrowed his eyes at him.

Over the years under his father’s thumb, Eris had found that while his father was a tyrant, he had gotten lazy. He thought so little of Eris’s manipulative capabilities that he was more than happy to have him do the grunt work. But Eris had eyes and ears everywhere and this had cost the High Lord his absolute control. He had handed it to Eris slowly over the years, without realizing how much it would eventually cost him.

But Eris always treaded this line carefully, always letting Beron forget about it. Always made it seem as though he was a puppet for his father. Eris was a good son; he always did what he was told...but with a slight tweak, a tweak Beron would be too lazy to care about.

Beron’s mouth twisted into a frown. “I am your high lord. You will do as I say.”

Eris bowed his head graciously. “Of course. I would be happy to assist you with this issue, Father. Would you like me to handle the situation?”

Beron’s glare intensified. “Why else did I bother calling you here? Fix it.”

“But of course, Father.” Eris said then ran his tongue over his teeth before continuing with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Though I would like to discuss something with you in return, if you’d be so kind?”

Beron rolled his eyes. “You and that mouth of yours. Spit it out.”

Eris loosened the slight damper on his anger and rolled his neck back, then met his father’s gaze. “The other night at dinner, I did not appreciate how I was spoken to or how my wife was spoken to,” he said slowly and Beron raised a brow. “I am humbly requesting you never speak to her in that manner again. She is not any concern of yours. At all.”

Beron scoffed. “Is that why you’ve been missing for two days? You’re upset with me?”

“It was disrespectful.” Eris said calmly and though fire was pulsating through his body, he continued to tap his thumb against his hand, desperately trying to smother it. He could only show a little at a time. Too much too soon would not go well for him.

“She didn’t like your punishment for her loose tongue, then?” the High Lord said, and a muscle flexed in Eris’s jaw.

“What happens between my wife and I doesn’t concern you, Father.” he said, his fists tightening behind him but he kept his face as neutral as possible. One day he wouldn’t have to. One day he could just rip his father’s head clean off his body. One day.

Beron smirked slowly, watching Eris, and Eris knew exactly what his father would say before he opened his mouth. “Is that so?” he sneered. “Are you afraid she’ll leave you for another Vanserra too?”

He let the comment slide off him, wondering when his father would stop using it as an insult. It didn’t sting anymore. In fact, Eris was bored of it being brought up at all.

“No. Iris gets all that she needs from me and more,” he said and smiled again, allowing the fire flickering in his veins to be found in his gaze. “I’m sure you realize history will not be repeating itself in this situation. So, I am asking again, leave my wife out of your plays. She is not yours to concern yourself with and I will not tolerate you making her uncomfortable again.”

Beron’s smile was a cruel one, laced with amusement. “Oh? And what will you do, son? If I decide I like making her uncomfortable?”

Eris paused here, pursing his lips, his heart thundering in his chest. He would pay for this in some form or another later... but it would be worth it. To not have Iris look at him like she had the other night.

“Well, Father...I will decide to make you uncomfortable.” Eris replied and smiled a dry smile. “You’ll find that I have been a very good son to you. Your son that hardly gives you any trouble, unlike those other idiots no one ever sees. I am your right hand. Your first-born. I will keep this court running as smoothly as possible for you as I truly do enjoy doing what you ask of me.” He paused here, watching his father as the High Lord assessed him. “But you will find that I can be very unhelpful if my wife continues to be spoken to and about in that way again.”

“You’d shirk your duties, boy?”

“You mean your duties, Father?”

And Eris knew it clicked then, in his father’s small brain, exactly how much deep shit Eris would put him in should he decide to be a menace.

“Your mother’s son through and through, hm?” Beron said quietly and Eris raised his brows.

“I am your son too, father. I was raised by your hand.”

Eris almost wanted to laugh at his own statement. Because quite literally so, Beron had not held back to beat his whole family into submission. Especially his firstborn, whom he allowed zero mistakes.

And yet.

The High Lord stared down at his son with slight loathing and Eris waited.

“Don’t make me beat some sense into you, boy.”

Eris shrugged and Beron’s eyes narrowed. It was a long moment before the High Lord finally scoffed.

“I hope her pussy is worth it.”

“Again,” Eris said, a muscle flexing in his jaw, his fists clenching behind his back. “You will not speak of my wife this way. I will decide how she behaves. I will decide what she will or won’t do. I will decide anything that concerns her. She is off-limits to everyone else. At all times.”

Beron quirked a brow. “Is that so?”

Eris gave him a tight smile. “I don’t like people playing with my things, Father. You taught me that.” he said. “I hope I have made myself clear enough for you.”

A tense silence filled the room and Eris wondered exactly what Beron would do. What his father was thinking. He had crossed a line here and showed his hand. Eris only hoped Beron thought he knew his son well enough that his declaration was one of possessiveness rather than anything else.

“What about your mother, Eris?” Beron said softly and Eris willed himself not to flinch, not to show any reaction. “It would be a shame if one day you shirked your duties and I...had to have a long conversation with your mother about it.”

Eris’s fist tightened behind his back and slowly, silently, he took a breath.

“I would think that would be unnecessary, father.”

Beron tilted his head and smiled. “That’ll depend on you, I suppose,” he said airily. “If not your mother, maybe your hounds? You seem to have a strange attachment to them. Surely you don’t need all twelve.”

“You know how valuable those hounds are to our security system.”

“Ah, yes. Our security system.” Beron said, interlacing his hands in his lap, and watched Eris with a smirk. “Even so...It would be very interesting to see what you hold in high regard, no?”

A muscle flexed in his jaw once more. “Meaning?”

“I will hold my tongue about your little wife, sure.” the High Lord with a shrug. “In fact, I won’t talk about her at all.”

“Then we have an understanding.” Eris said tightly.

“Oh yes,” Beron said calmly. “We definitely have an understanding.”

Eris nodded and stood for a moment before whirling around to leave. Except his father cleared his throat and Eris immediately froze.

Slowly, Eris turned back to face his father with a pleasant expression. “Yes, Father?”

“While we have an understanding, I do want to make one thing clear, son,” Beron spoke and Eris braced himself. “Should you step one toe out of line and think to speak to me that way again, I will find myself truly testing where your loyalties lie.”

“My loyalties lie with you, High Lord.” Eris said automatically and Beron scoffed.

“We shall see.” the High Lord sneered. “It would be a shame if I had to test that theory. A shame if I had to find out what you valued more...your mother, your hounds...or your pretty wife’s cunt.”

“Father.” Eris snarled but the High Lord only laughed humorlessly.

“You said your piece and I said mine, boy.” Beron snapped. “Now, get out of my sight and go fix that border issue.”

Eris’s mouth twisted in distaste, and it took him a moment — a good minute of trying to calm his thoughts so he didn’t snap the old man’s neck. So he didn’t do anything stupid.

Instead, he smiled tightly and bowed his head, despite his father’s look that always promised violence. He was too used to it, and Eris would take every bruise given to him if it got his father away from the two women in his life. He’d said his piece. He’d drawn a line and he would bear all the consequences for it. He had to.

It was not lost on him when his thoughts mirrored that of his wife...what was another bruise?

Iris stared at the bouquet of flowers on the table and blinked. She reached out a hand and hesitantly touched a petal then swallowed.

She had spent the time since her mother-in-law’s visit mindlessly tidying their room and thinking. Thinking and overthinking. Getting angry. Then sad. Then downright anxious.

Lady Enya’s visit had shifted her thought process and it made her realize how narrow her view had been about this whole thing. Thinking about talking to Eris still made her want to vomit but she tried to work through it.

Until she had heard him return and did the only rational thing she could — hide in the bathroom. She only stepped out after he left and that’s when her eyes fell on the bouquet sitting here now.

She had been simmering in anger this whole time. So angry.

At her father. At Beron. At all the stupid powerful males in positions that were able to hurt people and make them feel so small. Which is exactly what Beron had done. He made her feel small. He made Eris feel small.

She swallowed, thinking of the look Beron had shot Lady Enya before they left. He had been making her feel small for years.

But Eris…

“I am not him. I actively try my hardest not to be like him in any way.”

He could’ve been. He could. But he hadn’t.

“I will do everything I can to protect you from him and take the brunt of that as well and I am sorry that it has to be that way and I am sorry that you will likely have to hear more things from him that you won’t like, but I am playing his game so that I can keep worming my way around until I can finish him.”

And she had called him a coward. She had made him feel small too.

She had lashed out this morning knowing what she said would’ve been worse than gutting him. Words were often the best of weapons and Iris had been at the end of those weapons long enough to know how to throw it back.

But what would it cost her with Eris?

“You both are coming from the same place. Trust yourself and your judgment. But also...give him the chance to prove himself to you.”

She swallowed again as his mother’s words rang in her ear and Iris bit her lip, guilt eating away at her, as it had been for hours, the pit in her stomach growing. He hadn’t deserved her throwing words like that at him and had regretted it the moment they slipped out of her mouth. Not that he had held back either because clearly, he knew how to hurt.

But...he brought her flowers.

Iris frowned at the beautiful bouquet now. Was it an apology? Would he —

As if summoned by her thoughts, Iris turned at the sound of their suite door opening and Eris stood in the doorway, a tray in his hands.

He paused at the door, his eyes scanning her from head to toe. She noted how he cataloged the choice of dress that hugged her figure, the loose waves of her hair falling down her back. He met her eyes and without saying a word, stepped into the room, closed the door, and made his way to stop in front of her.

“Wife.”

“Husband.” she said dryly, and the corner of his wicked mouth ticked up.

Eris placed the tray on the table and nodded his head toward the chairs. “Would you like to eat?”

She watched him warily. “I didn’t realize you were part of the kitchen staff.”

“For you, wife? But of course.”

They stared at each other in loaded silence for a few minutes before Eris casually waved a hand for her to sit.

Begrudgingly, and because she was hungry, Iris walked to the nearest chair and plopped down. Eris’s lips twitched as he took the seat opposite her and the two stared at each other again, the tension palpable.

So much for trust. One step forward and two steps back.

“So.” Eris began, and Iris blinked before removing the cloth covering the tray of food and grabbing a piece of bread.

“So.” she said, grabbing a knife and looking at him.

“Did you like the flowers?” he asked calmly, and both turned to look at the bouquet.

Iris fidgeted and slowly put the knife and piece of bread down, her nervousness flaring. She frowned at the sound of her thundering heart. Or was it the sound of his?

“I wasn’t sure what your favorite flowers were, so I went with a seemingly obvious choice.” he added, and Iris met his gaze.

“I like carnations. And peonies.” she replied slowly. “But this bouquet is beautiful regardless.”

A heartbeat passed then, “You fucken hate irises, don’t you?” he asked with a snort and Iris bit back a reluctant smile, the tension easing a fraction.

“I really do.” she said and huffed a humorless laugh. “Blame that on my father too. Whenever he beat me too hard, he'd leave a bouquet of crushed irises at my door. Symbolism.”

Eris tensed for just a moment then forced himself to relax. “He keeps getting better and better every time you mention him.” he said tightly, then leaned forward and picked up the knife and bread Iris had put down.

She watched him again, as he had done the first morning, methodically buttering it for her and passing it over. Iris accepted it carefully, watching him fill her a glass of juice and again, pass it over to her.

When he sat back, his own piece of bread in hand and buttering it silently, Iris frowned again.

“Are we going to talk about the other night?” she asked quietly as her heart galloped in her chest.

Eris paused. “I was hoping you’d eat something first so we don’t lash out again. Like we did this morning.”

Iris’s frown deepened and she sat back in her chair, taking a bite of her bread. He watched her chew, his brow raised as he waited.

She swallowed and knew his eyes had tracked the movement of her licking her lips. “Well.” she began. “How did you think that went?”

“Terrible. You?”

“Horrible. I’ve been insulted before but never quite like that.” she muttered angrily, and Eris leaned forward, the bread dropping from his hand.

“So was I.” he said curtly. “My father aside, you took something I shared with you and threw it back in my face. You blamed me for things I had no control over. You called me a coward when I have spent my whole life trying to fight against what I was forced into. I warned you about my father. It shouldn’t have been a surprise.”

Iris flushed, scowling. “I was attacked. Your father attacked me and you let him.” she replied. “You warned me but that doesn’t mean I have to accept that this will be my reality. How am I supposed to feel safe if I have to be on the defense all the time?”

“And how am I supposed to trust you if the first personal thing I tell you, you use against me in an argument?” he said with a flattened expression. “I did not let him attack you. He didn’t wait for my permission. In case you haven’t noticed, my father loves to shit on me constantly.”

“And you just put up with it?”

“I know how to play his game.” he replied, and Iris shook her head.

“That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

Iris watched him frown, his brows furrowed in the frustration written all over his face. She had the strong urge to push her fingers to it.

“You want to feel safe and want trust. You cannot ask this of me and not give it in return.” he finally said. “There are times to respond and times to let him think he won so you can do what needs to be done anyway. That is how he needs to be handled. That is the best I can do with him. The best any of us can do at this time.”

They watched each other silently for a moment.

“If you are willing and you find yourself wanting to, be honest with him. He will meet you in the middle if you are willing to meet him.”

Iris took a small breath. “I... have had the same dream about you for the past two nights.” she whispered, and Eris straightened. “It’s not a pleasant one. It was about what you said to your father. What you’d do to me.”

Eris’s face heated and he shifted in his seat. “It was just a dream.” he said quietly, and Iris’s fingers tightened in the fabric of her dress.

“The panic that woke me up was real each time.”

His mouth twisted as he thought this over then met her gaze. “I said this before, and I understand I will have to keep saying it until you believe it, but I have no intention of hurting you. I will not lay a finger on you.” he said firmly. “I only said that so my father didn’t order me to do anything to you in front of him. It’s the one boundary he wouldn’t cross.”

Iris’s expression furrowed into a frown and a moment of silence passed before she quietly asked, “But he’d watch you beat your wife?”

Eris’s expression tightened for a moment then he mumbled, “He has made me watch while he hurt my mother. It would delight him to watch me do the same to you.”

“And you could do nothing?”

Eris scowled. “I do not appreciate the accusation in that question.” he snapped. “You assume I wasn’t also incapacitated.”

She flushed then mumbled curtly, “I’m not accusing, I’m asking.”

Eris watched her warily, scanning her face. It took him a moment before he finally sighed and rolled his shoulders back.

“Look...I am — my private quarters have always been my safe space.” he said quietly. “Aside from out with the hounds, it is the only place I can just...be. No expectations from anyone. I can’t fight with you in it. I — I don’t have it in me. If you really insist on not wanting to have a functioning relationship, I can arrange for you to have your own space and we don’t need to see each other at all.”

Iris blinked rapidly at the unexpectedness of his answer. “And what? Go our separate ways?”

“You know that can’t happen with your father or mine in the picture.” he said with a humorless chuckle. “You are bound to me as I am bound to you.” And Iris watched him scowl at the words, color blooming in his cheeks. “Or at least for a few years until people are busy obsessing over something else. We could just...orbit around each other. Pretend until then.”

Iris’s eyes dropped to the table, feeling her body suddenly heat up. Pretend? He would —

She took a sharp breath and then very quietly said, “You...would do that?”

“I don’t want someone who doesn’t want me. If you don’t want to try, I will not be the one to force you,” he said, and Iris lifted her eyes in time to find him running a hand through his hair. He met her gaze once then looked down, his expression hardening, a muscle flexing in his jaw. “I am not my father. I will not shackle you to me. You would only need to endure for a while until I can make it work.”

It took her a moment to finally speak, her shaking hands bunching in her dress.

“No one’s ever given you a chance, have they?” she said softly and watched as Eris tensed. “Your father has ruined almost everything for you.”

She watched his hands as they fisted then flexed and it took him a moment before replying.

“It’s a lot easier to let people see what they want to see. I am very good at pretending,” he replied, his eyes on the table. “Being a monster makes it easier.”

“Does it?”

He shrugged. “It’s all I have to work with for the time being.”

Her mouth went into a thin line, and she thought over what he said as he watched her. Trust wasn’t so easily earned but...he was drawing a line, making himself clear.

“I...did not react well the other night.” She said quietly. “Or this morning.”

“Neither did I,” Eris said with a shrug. “I think we can agree not to hold it against each other.”

She sighed and tilted her head back to gaze at the ceiling of their room. “I know you told me we have to behave in a certain way. But your tone...your tone. The sneer in it.” Iris said quietly, color bloomed on her cheeks, and she frowned. “I’ve heard that sneer my whole life. You tell me to expect different things from you then...then you spoke in that tone.”

Iris lowered her head to meet his gaze. “It makes me feel like everything you said and shared was a lie. It makes me feel foolish to believe you. You want me to wear a mask but...I can’t wear one where you’re belittling me in front of others. Even if it’s to have your father leave us alone.”

Eris’s eyes were on his fingers drumming gently on the table. “I...have had to wear this persona for a very very long time,” he said slowly and looked up at Iris. “You will need to give me some room...to work through these things.”

He swallowed then added tightly, “You are the first...opportunity I have ever been given to be different with a female. To openly be better. There wasn’t a relationship I had as important as this one with you.” He frowned. “No one that is supposed to be a...permanent partner. This is different for me too. I need patience from you.”

Iris’s eyes widened at that, and she looked away from him. Her heart was definitely the one thundering at his words so at odds with what his father had said to her.

You’re not important.

She looked up at him and found him watching her carefully. Her eyes darted to the slight color in his cheeks and then to his hands now folded on his crossed legs. He was speaking so calmly but Iris could taste his nervousness. It matched her own.

He had never been bluffing in his declarations.

“Then you want this to work, right?” She asked softly and licked her lips. “You want this to be real?”

“Do you?”

Iris blinked. Did she?

Her gaze dropped to her hands and she considered his question. No part of her going into this marriage had thought about whether it would work or not.

It was a fact. She was to be married to him. She would be his wife. Whatever happened after that, happened. Anything that came from her father would surely be nothing pleasant and she kept expecting the worst. But...Eris clearly didn’t think that way. He wanted it to be different. He had told her so from the beginning. And she had to be one of few people in his life who had ever heard such words from him.

He could be a nightmare for her. But he had endured so much from his father already. From this life. And he didn’t want to be. She had heard him say it.

I’m not trying to. Don’t you see that?

Her mind went back to the conversation with her mother-in-law.

“You two get to decide how real you want it to be.”

He could be more than just her husband. He could be her friend. But...he could also be more. And she had always wanted more. She wanted love. She wanted a...partner. She wanted a life with someone who would see her and care enough for her to protect her. Help her protect herself.

Swallowing, she looked up at him and the color on her cheeks deepened. “Yes. I do.”

And she watched his shoulder sag, just a fraction.

“Then we’re on the same page.”

Iris looked down at her hands for a heartbeat then met his gaze again. “You’re a very good liar,” she whispered. “It scares me to trust you.”

Eris was quiet for a long moment then very, very softly said, “It terrifies the fuck out of me to have you in my life. I don’t know how to...have whatever this is.”

“I don’t want to be a problem. I just want...to have something normal.” she said with a sigh, her eyes darting to him and then back to her hands.

“I don’t think normal will apply in this household,” he said with a soft snort. “But...I think we can figure out what will be normal for us.”

Silence fell between them again and Iris took a breath. A normal for them. A normal she...would be a part of. Iris licked her lips and then quietly said, “I’m sorry for the things I said in anger. It wasn’t fair to you. I was very upset and did not appreciate what was said to me or insinuated about me.”

Eris’s brow flickered up, a look of slight surprise on his face. “You apologize so easily.” he mused.

“Acknowledging when you’re wrong is the first step to getting through an issue.”

Eris pursed his lips and then slowly nodded. “And I am sorry for what I said and how things had to be. It wasn’t fair to you either. My father knew exactly what to say to push my buttons and I walked right into it.”

Iris nodded in return, her frown deepening, and asked carefully, “Why does he do that? What does he get out of it when you do so much for him? Doesn’t he...care for you?”

Eris chuckled dryly. “My father cares for no one but himself,” he said. “He likes to make people feel small when he feels threatened by them. He hasn’t earned anyone’s respect in years, so he keeps things under control by fear. And punishment.”

Iris blinked then said slowly, “At some point...people will not be scared anymore.”

“Yes,” Eris answered carefully. “Fear eventually grows tiresome. But my father has a very hard time accepting that change is coming, whether he likes it or not.”

“You’ve talked about change and pieces at play but never elaborate.”

Eris observed her. “We will need to work on our trust issues more before I can give you additional information.”

Iris nodded slowly. “That seems fair.” she mumbled, and Eris’s lips curved up and he pushed the breakfast tray towards her. Iris bit her lip and then sat up. “I have one more thing to say about this subject.”

“Just one?” Eris said with a chuckle and Iris shot him a look, picking up her bread once more.

“Your father was outrageous. It’s hard to pick one thing.” she said, her nose scrunched up in disdain. “I don’t know how you’ve tolerated him all these years.”

“Pretending I’m frolicking in a field of daisies whenever he opens his mouth usually gets me through.”

Iris snorted and rolled her eyes, earning her a smirk from him. “Frolicking with a pretty flower crown, are you?”

“Oh, definitely,” he replied with a serious nod. “If Elain has taught me one thing, it’s that you must wear a flower crown while frolicking or you’re simply not doing it right.”

A chuckle slipped from her lips and Iris for once, shyly met his eyes. When the corner of his mouth ticked up, she looked back down at her hands. She sighed and then looked back at him, her expression more solemn.

“He had no right to speak to me that way. He had no right to speak to you that way either.”

“I agree.”

“What I want to say is, I do not want to be spoken to like that ever again.” Iris said firmly. “I will pretend I’m your simpering little wife all you want but I will not tolerate the threats and language like that. Not in this home as well.”

“Neither will I. Which is why it won’t happen again.” Eris said and Iris stilled at his tone.

“What does that mean?”

He adjusted the cuff of his sleeve and then slowly looked at his wife. “I don’t like people overstepping their boundaries with me. He can take it out on me all he wants but you’re my wife. I will not let it happen again. You should still watch your tone with him the same way I do but my father has been made aware that I will not take him speaking to you that way again lightly.”

Iris blinked then flushed lightly, pleasantly surprised. “So...we play his game?” she asked quietly and he gave her a tight nod.

“We play his game,” he confirmed. “Outside of this room, we play by his expectations. It is a lie, a façade. Inside this room, whenever we are alone, and outside of the court...we can be as we wish. Just you and me. As long as this is what you want.”

Iris bit the inside of her cheek, watching him carefully. It wasn’t different from anything he had told her before but...she was truly listening now. She could play games. She had tried to play her father’s games, even when it cost her. Now she would have a partner.

Just you and me.

“You’re willing to be my friend first, then?” she asked quietly.

“Friendship was the first thing I offered you.” he replied simply.

And it hit Iris then — how incredibly similar they were. A fact Eris seemed to have figured out early on.

He was someone who needed a person just as badly as she did.

So she finally said, “Then this is what I want.”

The corner of Eris’s mouth ticked up. “That’s helpful. I won’t have to waste time redecorating.”

She rolled her eyes and then quietly observed him as he finally picked a helping of food. Standing up to his father was a bold move and Eris was careful about all the moves he made. To do it because of her...

She waited until he had a few bites of food then carefully asked, “How did your father take it when you spoke to him about me?”

Eris paused for a moment then slowly replied, “We’ll see in a few days.”

Iris bit her lip, her brows furrowed, knowing what he meant. It would either pass or...Eris would pay for it.

Her face fell as guilt washed over her and Eris straightened.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry.” she immediately said and he furrowed his brows.

“We already stated our apologies.”

She shook her head. “If he decides he doesn’t like what you said because of me —” she started and pushed the tray away, feeling slightly nauseated. “I don’t want him to — if he decides to —”

But Eris held up a hand. “You don’t have to worry about that. I can handle my father. His choices are his own and he is the only one responsible for them.”

Iris bit her lip, glancing at him and then down at her lap. Her mouth wouldn’t cost just her now. Eris would be dragged into it by his father if she stepped out of line. He had thought about what his father would do to her if Eris didn’t behave accordingly but Iris hadn’t even considered what Beron would do to Eris because of her.

“I’ll watch myself better now.” she promised quietly. “I don’t want to give him any other reasons to hurt you.”

Eris stared at her, his expression unreadable but she saw the bob of his throat as he swallowed then nodded.

“I see we’ve reached an understanding then.” he said quietly and Iris nodded in return.

“We’ve reached an understanding.”

A sense of relief washed over the room, any tension between them easing. Iris stole a chance at him to find him watching her, his lips slightly pursed.

“What?”

He shook his head and then cleared his throat. “Now that we’re on the same page, I won’t have to hear your whining.”

Iris squinted at him but her expression softened when she saw the teasing look he gave her.

“You’re annoying.”

“You’re mean.”

“I haven’t slit your throat yet so how mean am I, really?” she said and gave him a pointed look.

Eris smirked and Iris knew whatever came out of his mouth next would be obnoxious.

“You must really have a thing for my neck, you constantly want to get your hands on it.”

“To choke the life out of you.”

“Don’t tease me, I’ll start moaning.”

Very slowly and without breaking eye contact, Iris flipped him off, earning her a soft chuckle.

“We’ll see what good that attitude of yours will do you once we start training.” he said, giving her an amused look.

“And when will we do that?” she asked, sitting up straighter.

“As soon as you’d like, wife.” he said with a lazy smirk. “I look forward to seeing what you’re made of.”

Iris sat back and met his gaze with a challenging look of her own. “And I look forward to giving you the ass-kicking you deserve, husband.”

#eris vanserra #eris vanserra x oc #eris x oc #acotar fanfiction #eris vanserra fanfic #smtb chapters #beron vanserra #gfics #if you'd like to be tagged or removed (no hard feelings lol) please let me know!!#thank you for reading!!#I know for old smtb readers this is all nothing new but I hope you'll be excited for the new stuff to come soon!!

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