#eris vanserra // interaction

[eatsbooksarchive]

currently thinking about 💭eris vanserra who does not drink, not really. eris vanserra who will have a glass of wine, maybe two, but anything beyond that is just water he has glamoured to keep up appearances. eris vanserra who does not like to be out of control of his faculties, even for a second, because when he is, those he cares about get hurt. eris vanserra who had been too-young and drunk on stolen kitchen spirits the first time he didn’t notice his father’s mounting irritation with his mother and watched her nose get bloodied over dinner. eris vanserra who had been drunk the night he refused to kill jesminda for his father; and perhaps if he had been smarter, if he had played the game better, he could have glamoured another poor soul in her stead and ferreted her away, he could have been there to do more for lucien than simply alert tamlin, he could have kept the three brothers he lost that day, two to death, one to hatred. eris vanserra who does not drink, but when he does, the harsh lines of him relax, and he smiles more, and his eyes twinkle, and color rises to his cheeks, and he looks so much like lucien that his mother cannot stand to look at him. eris vanserra who does not drink, not really.💭

[betss1256]

Helion: Guess what 🥰🤩💞Lucien???💘🎀🎉I’m your Dad💞🌈🦄🤩

Lucien: .

Lucien: ..

Lucien: ..

Lucien: fuck no

[spiritedstars]

Spirit Meets the Bones [Epilogue]

Genre: Angst/Romance/Drama Author’s Note:  I am very very emotional posting this. Writing this fic drove me crazy in the best way and I'm really proud of it. I loved telling Eris x Iris's story. Thank you for reading. Thank you for tagging along on this long journey. Thank you for loving Eiris the way I do!

In case you missed it, I commissioned a royal portrait of Eiris! Check it out here.

The biggest thank you will always go to @riorsonxaden because without you being my support, bouncing ideas with me, and always taking time to read each chapter and give me your feedback, I wouldn't be posting this or as satisfied with it as I am. Thank you. I love you.

tagging: @climb-the-mountian / @gwynberdara / @positivewitch / @animezinglife / @zenkindoflove / @rosewood-cafe / @clockwork-ashes / @carnythian / @secret-third-thing / @runningwiththeoceans / @that-golden-lyre / @thedarkinmansfield / @readychilledwine / @goldenmagnolias / @mali22 / @readthelastpaage / @maidr-00 / @electromagnetic-waves / @moobell55 / @bibliophiliaxvignette / @devilsfoodcake22 / @weesablackbeak / @ladywhilemia / @alohaangels / @feysandfeels / @corcracrow / @dawneternal / @gracie-rosee / @mage-neve / @illyrianvalkyrie / @saint-stella / @carolynmezzosoprano / @rainbowsnowflake / @queenoftheworld1998 / @wolvesnravens / @lalaluch / @moonfawnx / @temperedink / @batboyslutt / @rcarbo1 /

Find it all here.

Six Months Later.

~

Eris stood in his study, glancing out the window with a whisky in hand, soaking up the last moments of quiet he’d have for the rest of the day. 

Today was the day.

Dressed in a fitted forest green suit, his crown resting on his head, the High Lord of the Autumn Court allowed himself a small smile. The lapel Iris had gifted him was pinned neatly to his jacket, and Eris was only a little nervous—but for once in his life, it was a good kind of nervousness. 

He was getting married. Again.

After the night of the battle, it was well into the morning before they had a moment to rest. They had all been exhausted and worn and desperately needed time to heal properly. Iris’s wounds had reopened, and Eris had gone through the agony of watching her recover from them. The scars had left faint marks, and though it had crushed Eris to see her beautiful skin be marred in such a way, Iris had only knocked her shoulder against his and said, “We’re more of a perfect match now.”  

Even distracted with all his new duties as High Lord, Eris had driven those around him nearly insane while Iris healed. He had waited until Nevien had given him a very exasperated all-clear to touch his wife in the way he had been craving to, and Eris had made love to his mate in a way that still had Iris turning bright red whenever she thought about it. 

It had been as filthy as Eris had wanted.

After that particular rigorous night, Eris had met her gaze, his hand stroking her bare skin, and said, “Let’s get married. Our way this time.” 

Iris had only kissed him in response.

And now, he was getting married to the love of his life. His mate.

As he planned for their wedding, Eris found that slipping into his role as High Lord had been smoother than anticipated.

While a new court required a new council, new rules, and considerable follow-through, for Eris, who had already handled much of his father’s affairs, being High Lord was like breathing.

Eris had spent that first week as High Lord cleaning out those in his father’s pocket, giving them two choices: change or death. Though they remained under constant scrutiny, many had been intelligent enough to choose the former. For those that hadn’t made the right choice, Eris had unleashed his brothers, their hunt serving as a reminder, that though they may not be their father, they knew exactly how to make things hurt. 

Iris’s father had been the only person who had no choice in what happened to him. He had barely survived his daughter’s wrath, but Iris had ensured he hadn’t died too quickly. She had requested a public hanging after he was displayed for a week in the heart of the court—no healing permitted. When the day finally came for Aron’s execution, Iris watched her father’s corpse struggle against the rope as it tightened around his neck, floundering for air until his body went limp. She had felt no remorse. 

He had been left to hang on the flagpole for all to see, the marks and blood from the battle still visible. It was a message and a decree in their new court; an abuser had no place here. 

While change was never easy and most of his people welcomed him warmly, there was trepidation. People were hopeful and yet, scared. Worried it was all a joke – a dream – a test to weed out traitors against the crown. And Eris understood it. He had lived this uncertainty and while he hadn’t suddenly turned into a saint, he granted them patience. He gave them a calmness he had yearned for the Autumn Court to have.

This started with the Forest House. Eris had tested his new magic while morphing the House into a home. He wanted to wipe away his father’s touch from every inch and slowly but surely, it began to look different. To feel different.

Within Autumn, their people were united. Outside of their court, their reputation as cutthroat remained. As a new leader – Eris did not want to give anyone the idea that Autumn would be an easy target. He had quickly connected with the other courts, setting the precedent for networking with the Autumn Court;  his wretched father had stifled them, but Eris had endless ideas for inter-court connections and trade. He was eager for more. For better. 

His brothers had joined his council, each taking a more active role in managing their court, and for the first time in his life, Eris didn’t feel so alone. 

While they didn’t always see eye to eye and meetings had sometimes gotten heated, in the end, they all had the same goal – to do better. To be better. It didn’t erase their past but they were family. The word actually meant something now. 

It took his mother some time to visit her old home, but every time she did, Eris’s chest ached in a way he hadn’t expected, to see her roam the halls of the Forest House with a smile on her face—happy. The High Lord of Day had been gracious enough to give Eris some time before shouting his mating bond for the world to hear; a month after Eris became High Lord, Helion claimed her as his mate and they’ve been in bliss since. Lucien began visiting Autumn and was greeted with a warm welcome every time. Though he still wasn’t always comfortable, Elain’s excitement to explore the court and bond with his family made up for it.

Izak and Helene had decided to stay in their home within their community, but Eris still had a suite ready for them whenever they wished to stay. It felt strange to watch his sister-in-law’s pregnancy, to know that the first baby Vanserra was on the way. Eris still sent her a gift now and then to make up for their first meeting.

With no hesitation, Cosette had moved into Emil’s suite within the Forest House, as did Theo with Finn. The two had bonded, forcing Emil and Finn to spend more time together than they were used to, and it had been very amusing for Eris to watch. Until Iris also forced him to be there and suddenly, he was not so very amused. 

Three months after that, and after the transition of their court had calmed just slightly, Eris had planned the perfect wedding. It would be a small, intimate affair with only family and friends with delicious food, good music, and by the end of the night, he would be fucking his wife on his new throne.

His small smile widened into a smirk as he pictured his beautiful wife melting beneath his touch. 

Gods, was he excited.

A knock on his office door had Eris turning. He drained his drink and set it on his desk before saying, “Come in.”

Finn poked his head in through the door and much to Eris’s annoyance, gave a wolf whistle. “Damn brother, you do clean up nice.” 

Eris rolled his eyes as his brothers filed in and he gestured for Lucien to close the door behind him, a shield reinforcing it. “For once in your life, you seem to look decent yourself.” His eyes swept over each of his brothers. Indeed, each of them was dressed impeccably. He barely recognized Izak. “Surprisingly, you all do.”

“I don’t know why you’re surprised about me,” Lucien said dryly. “I always dress well. And maybe Emil. It’s the other two who look like hooligans all the time.”

“Ah, fuck off. I look great walking around like a damn dream.” Finn immediately protested. 

“I’m not a hooligan,” Izak said in offense. “I dress appropriately for my job.”

“What I assume Lucien means is the general air of peasant you both give off.” Emil quipped with a small smirk. “Unfortunately, if there is a stench, you two are the first people will look to.” 

Lucien choked back a laugh and Eris sighed when Finn and Izak broke out into an argument. 

“We’ll see who gets the last laugh when I flirt with Elain and Cosette so hard –”

“Leave my mate out of this.”

“I will skin you alive –”

“When will you realize no one likes it when you flirt with them?” Izak added with a snort. “You suck at it.”

“It’s not the only thing he sucks,” Lucien replied and the cackles broke out again as Finn let out a growl.

“Oy!”

“To be fair, Izak, Helene doesn’t seem to mind his presence as much,” Emil said and eyed Izak with that obnoxious smirk. “He seems to be craving a little female time. Are you aware of this? I think we might need to inform Theo.”

Izak glared at Emil. “And what the hell is that supposed to mean? Are you accusing my pregnant wife of something?”

“No, I’m accusing your brother of being a home wrecker.”

“I have not wrecked any homes, you fuckers.”

“So the rumors about you being people’s third are false?”

“How the fuck would you hear about that, Lucien?”

“Same way I hear about everyone’s nonsense. Your slutty lives are local news.”

“Oy, I’ve been with one female for years.”

“None of those rumors are ever about you, Izak. No one wants you.” Finn said and smiled the way he knew would make his brothers see red. “But don’t worry, Helene and I already have a plan to work things out once you kick the bucket.” He glanced at Emil and pointed. “The same way Cosette and I do.” Then pointed to Eris. “The same way Iris and I do.” And lastly, pointed to Lucien. “You don’t let me near Elain enough but I’m working on charming her. I can’t wait to talk flowers with her. I’m suddenly itching to start my own garden.” 

And before the room could explode, Eris took a deep breath and allowed his magic to swat each of his brothers across the head, hard. Ignoring their outrage, he held up his hands for silence and finally addressed them. “This is exactly why I asked you all to be here. There will be absolutely no fighting at my wedding, do you understand?”

Finn opened his mouth and Eris shot him a look. “No bringing up significant others.” He glared at Emil. “No instigating fights with baseless rumors.” He pointed at Izak. “No getting offended every time someone mentions your damn wife.” And lastly, he gave Lucien an exasperated look. “No adding fuel to the fire of an already ridiculous argument.” 

Addressing them all at once, he said firmly. “No fighting.”

“But –”

“It wasn’t even –”

“I have nothing to do with –”

“I’m barely tolerating being here –”

A muscle twitched in Eris’s jaw and the room heated as he forced himself to take another breath and smooth down his suit jacket. “Today is my wedding day. An event I have perfectly planned to celebrate my wife and I,” he said, forcing himself to remain calm as he glanced at his brother’s stupid faces. “Iris is very excited and I will not have any of your bullshit annoying her in any way. So.”

He stepped in front of Emil who was clearly fighting a laugh and pointed. “No fighting.”

Stepping to Finn, Eris fought hard not to punch the smug expression right off his face and pointed a little more threateningly. “No – fucken – fighting.”

He moved to Izak and Lucien, the former, who held up his hands as though he was an innocent bystander in all of this, and the latter shrugging his shoulders with no care in the world. It annoyed Eris even further as he pointed between them and said again, “No – fighting.” 

Turning in the room and addressing all of them at once, “There will be no – fucken – fighting or so help me, Iris will have your throats and I’ll have the hounds eat whatever she leaves of you.”

“Damn, she’d get vicious on her wedding day?” Izak said with a whistle.

“She has a knife strapped to her as we speak and will use it as she sees fit.” 

“Kinky.” Finn said in an annoyingly singsong voice that made Eris want to choke him where he stood.

“Match made in heaven, you two.” Lucien added with a snort and Eris grunted.

“That’s right and I have no issues stabbing you myself if I have to,” he swore. “Behave yourselves.” 

“Will you cry when she walks in?” Emil asked, mockingly putting a hand over his heart. “I don’t know if I will be able to hold back from succumbing to tears myself if you do.”

“I cannot believe you’re my biggest problem today,” Eris said with a glare at his usually quieter brother. “Fuck off.” 

Pointing threateningly one last time, he confirmed, “Am I clear, assholes?”

They all grumbled their agreements and as they stood together in the room, Eris eyed them wearily then shook his head. 

They were alright. They had earned this.

Without waiting for Eris’s permission, Emil moved around his brother, grabbed the bottle on his desk, and magicked each of them a drink. 

“Since you’re done threatening us, I’d like to propose a toast,” Emil began, giving Eris a more genuine smile. “To our big brother and High Lord,” he continued, “We weren’t invited to your last wedding and are only mildly inconvenienced to celebrate this one with you.” Holding up his glass as Eris rolled his eyes. “May your union be blessed. To Eris and Iris.”

Each of his other brothers raised their glasses and repeated, “To Eris and Iris.”

And as Eris brought the glass to his mouth, Finn had the audacity to add, “And to their firstborn child who will absolutely be named after me. Cheers!”

Eris could only bring himself to sigh. He did it so often these days. 

~

Once the wedding began, nothing else mattered to Eris other than getting to the part where he’d see and then promptly kiss his wife. It had been hours since she had woken him up this morning, sliding her body over his, and they had almost been late for wedding prep. 

It had been a fantastic way to start the day, and it was how they started most days. He couldn’t get enough of touching her—of being with her as openly as he could be. Through every change, Iris walked with him, hand in hand, equal in responsibilities, and it made his chest ache to know she actually cared about what happened to their court. Her support wasn’t for show. 

Without a looming threat, Eris allowed himself to simply…feel. It disgusted him but he allowed it. 

For so long, he had craved so desperately. Even as the desire to light himself on fire for actually letting his emotions be, Eris allowed it. He had earned it and his wife deserved it. She deserved all his feelings. 

And so, Eris Vanserra let himself be in love. To truly, soak it in that his wife, his friend, and his mate was here, with him. Beautiful and loved him too. 

There were many nights when Eris couldn’t sleep and would lie awake, simply staring at Iris curled up next to him, convincing himself that this was all real. That they had survived and they were finding happiness in this new normal. That he was happy and shouldn’t be afraid of the feeling.

How he had wished. How he had looked to the sky and begged and now…his prayers had finally been answered. 

Eris wouldn’t take a second of it for granted. 

And now, he stood at the tastefully decorated altar filled with Iris’s favorite flowers, impatiently waiting for her to walk in. They had set up the ceremony to take place in a smaller hall within the Forest House to keep it as private as possible.

His eyes swept the room, glancing at his idiotic brothers and their significant others sitting next to them. According to Lucien, they were all his groomsmen though Eris hadn’t asked; they grinned rather smugly with their matching boutonnieres that Eris had most certainly not picked out, and he crinkled his nose at how much resemblance there was between them seated like this. His mother sat with Helion, her hand resting in the crook of the High Lord’s arm and the rest of the seats were all filled with his closest friends.

This was the most relaxed he’d ever been at an event he was hosting and yet, Eris felt like he would lose his mind if he had to wait another minute for Iris to walk in. 

Did a part of him cringe hard, knowing he was going to let himself appear ‘happy’ in front of people? Gods, yes. But was it worth it, for him to see Iris experience joy? That after all they had been through, they were getting to choose each other all over again? On their own terms? Absolutely.

A little embarrassment would be a small price to pay. 

Was Eris also a little smug that he managed to plan this wedding to be on the exact day of their original anniversary? Very much so. 

It was the same date a year later, and yet as the music finally started to play and he turned, his heart thumping wildly in his chest waiting for his wife to walk in, Eris marveled at the way time had passed and had shifted the tide. 

He marveled at how this was his actual life now. 

And when Iris walked in, she stole his breath all over again. 

Iris slowly began her walk down the aisle towards her mate, her cheeks flushed happily as his twelve hounds bounced alongside her, dressed for the occasion. Her smile was warm and as her eyes scanned the room, she couldn’t help the slight shyness that crept on her knowing the people in this room were part of her life. 

They were her family and friends. Something she wouldn’t have dreamed of having a year ago.

A year ago, she had been miserable and terrified of getting married to Eris. Now, she thought her chest would explode from the sheer amount of happiness she was feeling. 

She felt beautiful, dressed in a custom-made gown — courtesy of her very involved husband — that made her feel elegant, poised, and exactly how the wife of the High Lord should look, holding Elain’s most stunning bouquet yet in her hands. She was adorned with the jewelry Eris had previously given her and a stunning tiara on her head that complimented her simple hairstyle.

And it made her body heat to see the way Eris was staring at her. Always intensely, always so hungrily – as if their hands hadn’t been all over each other just this morning. 

When she finally reached him, Eris held out his hand for her to take. He carefully brought her up the step to stand across from him, and when their eyes met, the world went quiet. 

Everything seemed to still as the weight of all they had endured this year sat between them. It felt so calm. So surreal, as husband and wife simply stared at each other. It felt surreal to stand there knowing that only by a twist of fate, they had found each other and their lives had intertwined.

Eris couldn’t stop staring at her. It made his heart ache to see her standing before him and smiling so brightly; he wanted to double over and it was through sheer force of will that he didn’t allow his expression to change – to display just how pathetically in love he was. 

She was so beautiful and he couldn’t believe she was his. 

All his.

“Hello, husband,” Iris whispered with a small smile and Eris’s lips twitched.

“Hello, wife,” he murmured. 

“You should pick up your jaw off the floor. You’re drooling all over your fancy suit.” she teased but Eris shook his head, fighting against his expression shifting.

“Too late for that, I’m afraid.” 

“How embarrassing for you.”

“How embarrassing for you. You’re the one marrying me. Again.” he tsked and Iris rolled her eyes and then let out a rather exaggerated sigh.

“What can I say, I couldn’t bring myself to leave my little pups.” she said, and Eris narrowed his eyes. 

“Only the pups, hm?”

Iris shrugged playfully. “Well. I suppose there is one more lovesick pup I couldn’t bring myself to leave.” 

“Careful now –”

A throat cleared and the two straightened, suddenly remembering where they were. Iris flushed deeply and Eris pursed his lips, glancing at the priestess standing before them who smiled sheepishly.

“I am ready whenever you are, my lord.” 

Eris ignored the hoots and laughter of his annoying family and instead, kept his eyes on his wife. He had been foolish to think sharing this moment with others had been a good idea. 

He should’ve kept it even more private. Just the two of them, alone. He never liked an audience to his emotions and Eris felt the back of his neck heat as everyone’s eyes were on them.

Yet – he watched as Iris smiled bashfully at their guests, earning her a few laughs, and Eris glanced down at her hand in his, her thumb caressing his soothingly…maybe it wasn’t so bad. He could pretend it was just the two of them. 

She was the sun. Everything else was irrelevant. 

“You look like you’re about to run out on me,” she teased in a whisper and squeezed his hand. 

Eris shot her a look, squeezing her hand right back.

“We’ve only been here minutes and I already regret doing this,” he murmured with no real heat and when Iris furrowed her brows, Eris only sighed. “I don’t want to share this with others. Them.”  

“Oy! Stop it with the googly eyes and get the party started!” Finn shouted and Eris’s head snapped to his brother with a glare. 

“One more word out of you and I swear –”

But Iris laughed softly and tugged him back to her. “You can’t threaten your brother at our wedding.”

Eris snorted. “Oh yes, I can. I will slit his throat.” 

“No, you won’t.”

“Iris –”

“You will not be hurting anyone at my wedding or I will be stabbing you.” 

A different kind of heat rushed through his body and Eris knew his smirk told people too much. 

He was deeply regretting this not being a private event.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, wife.” 

Iris turned to look at the priestess and sighed, “I don’t think I’ll be going through with this after all, I’m so sorry to have wasted your time.” 

Eris’s smirk widened and then he tugged Iris closer to him. “As if I’d let you leave after all this.” He nodded to the priestess. “Please proceed.” 

The priestess bit her lip, clearly fighting a laugh but then cleared her throat and began. 

Eris heard nothing of what was said. All his senses focused on Iris, who smiled too knowingly at him. When it was finally time to exchange their rings once more, Iris surprised him with a new wedding band. With Eris’s style, she knew he’d prefer something that complemented everything he wore, so she had picked a simple hammered texture and engraved their initials on the inside.  

“I couldn’t be the only one with a new ring.” she teased, slipping it onto his finger and Eris tried not to collapse as his heart thumped wildly. He couldn’t bring myself to say anything else, overwhelmed with all these fucken feelings clogged in his throat. He could only slide her ring on her finger and then place a soft kiss on her hand. 

“Do you have vows you would like to share?” the priestess asked.

Eris and Iris glanced at each other. They had agreed that whatever vows they’d had would be between them so instead, Iris slanted her head slightly. 

“No, but I do have a question,” she said, the corner of her mouth curling up. “A question for a question.”

Eris’s expression lit up in amusement. “A question for a question.”

“Do you agree to willingly tolerate me for the rest of our days, husband dear?”

The small laugh escaped him before he could stop it and Eris replied, “I do. Do you agree to willingly tolerate me for the rest of our days then, dearest wife?”

Iris hummed playfully, pretending to think until he lifted a brow and she conceded with a laugh. “I do.”

“I believe I was supposed to ask a similar question…” the priestess began but with a glance from Eris, she cleared her throat and continued, “No matter! With this exchange, your union has been blessed. May the Mother continue to fill your lives with peace, joy, and harmony. You may kiss your bride, High Lord.” 

“About damn time,” Eris murmured, and as he leaned in and Iris met her lips with his, the cheers in the room matched the cheers in his heart, and he couldn’t bring himself to give a single shit about who watched them.

~

The rest of the night had passed in full merriment, an unusual occurrence for the Vanserras. Very few parties had ever been this calm – enjoyable even. Considering the last ball they’d been to, this ceremony was a dream.

Though they had remained on high alert, the brothers let themselves simply be present. The former Lady of Autumn’s smile was bright, her mate watching her every breath with stars in his eyes. They had all danced – Finn risking his life to dance with each of his brother’s paramours – and yet, despite the bickering and nonsense, Eris had watched Iris enjoy every minute of it. Her smile had dazzled the whole room and he wouldn’t have had it any other way. 

She had surprised him again during the party. In addition to the wedding cake he had originally requested, Iris presented a cake she had baked herself. It was a small round cake with white frosting, decorated with irises and Eris felt the mating bond thump beneath his skin at the gesture. 

Picking up a fork, she smiled at him and asked in a hushed tone, “Are you ready to eat, mate?”

Eris’s throat had bobbed as he took the fork from her hand and it took him a moment before he cleared his throat and joked, “So this is the way I go. Poisoned by my mate.” 

Her exasperated expression was so endearingly familiar that Eris couldn’t help but laugh, kiss her heartily, and then devour every last morsel of it.

Now, he sat on his new throne, happily married, happily mated, his wife in his lap, and her hand trailing distractingly down his chest.

His suit jacket was long gone, his crown sitting askew on his head and Eris had allowed himself to get slightly tipsy. He was also covered in lipstick stains, and Iris was still kissing his neck. 

“I could die right now and would consider myself the luckiest bastard alive.” He mumbled and Iris straightened in his lap with a tsk. Her wedding cape had been discarded on her own throne next to them, her heels tossed to the side and Eris had already taken all the pins out of her hair, setting her long locks free. Her tiara remained, of course. 

“How could you say that when we haven’t even had our proper wedding night?” she teased. “What a disappointing start to our marriage.”

Eris’s hands slid to his wife’s waist and he yanked her closer until she was inches from his lips, exactly where he liked her. “You and I both know, there is nothing disappointing about our marriage,” he said and gave her a knowing look. “Especially when my shy little wife is no longer shy, craving me constantly.” 

“Don’t flatter yourself like you aren’t ready to collapse every time my hand brushes against your skin, High Lord.” she breathed, tracing a finger across his collarbone. 

Eris chuckled, taking that finger and bringing it to his lips to kiss. “True. You had me wrapped around your finger from day one, I suppose,” he replied with a long-suffering sigh and Iris laughed but couldn’t help herself from pecking him quickly. 

“If it helps, it’s exactly how I want you, obsessed with me.”

“Given how you can’t even sleep without being engulfed in my scent, I’m not the only one obsessed, am I?” he teased. “Remember how prickly you were in the beginning? Like a feral little cat. And now look at you – simply addicted.”

Iris returned the long-suffering sigh and Eris’s lip twitched. “I suppose you have me there.” she said and her cheeks flushed when she added, “I do love you enough that I married you twice.” 

His expression softened and his hand brushed against her cheek, whispering, “And I am always grateful you chose me.”

Husband and wife watched one another in silence, the thread of their bond shining bright and true between them. It had all been worth it. Every hardship. Every doubt and fear and anxiety that had clawed at their lives before this…it had all been worth it. 

“I’d choose you every time, Eris,” she said softly. “You are mine and I am yours. Until the sun sets in its final hour. Until I am nothing but dust and even after that, when I am no more than a memory, I will always be yours.”

His throat bobbed as he watched her smile at him, a rush of affection so deep, Eris wanted to sink in it and never come up for air.  “And I yours,” he murmured, pulling her close again, his lips brushing against hers. “My heart and my soul – my very breath and every broken part of me will only ever be yours.” 

“Every wonderful part of you.” Iris corrected and Eris couldn’t help his chuckle. 

“Only because it’s you and everything you touch becomes wonderful,” he said and Iris shook her head. 

“After everything that’s happened, you are not allowed to speak about yourself that way,” she demanded, leaning back to give him a stern look. “I forbid it.”

He chuckled again. “Well, if my mate and future High Lady forbid it, I suppose I must listen,” he said and brushed back a loose curl, tugging on her ear gently. “You still want to wait until next year to declare the title officially?”

“Yes,” Iris confirmed and cupped his face. “I’d like more time learning in court before we add another big change. You need to keep things stable for now.”

Eris nodded, watching her face with that small smile that was all hers. How he had gotten so lucky, he’d never know. The Mother had blessed him in ways he’d never even let himself dream.  

“As you wish, wife,” he said. “I look forward to your insights. Even if you have questionable opinions at times.”

“Excuse me?”

“Do you still think Lucien is more dashing than me, then?” he asked immediately and Iris blinked then leaned her head back with a laugh.

“Ah, so that’s what this is about.” she teased with a giggle and Eris pursed his lips at her response, narrowing his eyes. 

“As I said, questionable opinions.”

Iris rolled her eyes, smiling so fondly, that it made her cheeks ache. “To answer your question,” she said quietly and leaned in to kiss the corner of his mouth. “No, I don’t. Even if he may dress better than you sometimes.”

Eris tutted and sat back, pulling her more firmly in his lap, and shook his head. “So many silly lies you tell.”

Iris hummed, leaning into him, and brushed her thumb against his mouth. She loved him, and what a blessing—after waiting for so long, she had been given a love like this. She loved him so deeply, yet she could never put into words just how much he meant to her—her husband, her friend, her mate. It left her helpless in the best way, and Iris wanted nothing more than to stay wrapped up with him like this.

He was all hers. For forever and every day after. He was all hers. 

“What are you going to do about all my lies, then?” she whispered, arching into him as Eris ran his hand down her back with a smirk and she leaned in to kiss the other corner of his mouth.

“Kiss you until you stop saying them, I suppose,” he hummed, and Iris grinned.

“Well then,” she said. “I guess I’ll just have to keep lying.”

Eris couldn’t stop staring at her, sitting in his arms with a mischievous grin, her scent enveloping him. He truly had everything he ever wanted – right here. And it was real, not a desperate dream. “Tell me more of your lies then, little gazelle.” 

“Mmm, you’re hideous.”

He chuckled and leaned in to brush his lips against hers. “What else?” 

“You’re simply the worst person I’ve ever met.”

Eris fought back his own grin, nipping at her bottom lip. “Tell me more.”

Iris leaned back again and met his gaze, her expression softening again in a way that made Eris tremble.

“I hate you,” she said and the corner of his mouth quirked up, warmth spreading in his chest. “You’re the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Is that the best lie you have?” he teased. Iris narrowed her eyes in thought for a moment, then smirked devilishly, wrapping both arms around his neck, a breath away from his lips. 

“You’re terrible in bed.”

Eris barked out a laugh and Iris joined him as unfiltered joy flooded through him. He wouldn’t question this gift he’d been given for a single moment – never let a doubt creep in between them. Wrapping his arms around his wife, Eris kissed his Iris in earnest, pouring all his love and promises into her lips.

His heart had always been in the palm of her hands, and Iris had wrapped her very soul around him. Together, they would welcome a new beginning. 

They would spend the rest of their days just like this. 

Happy. 

Whole. 

Together.

And where jaded spirits had once met tired bones, their spirits were jaded no more. 

Rekindled, they had finally settled home.

[clockwork-ashes]

i think it would be so fun if eris just reluctantly became elain’s friend, like he genuinely likes her but he’s not happy about it

[eatsbooks]

Did Eris accept rejection from a female when he was young?

definitely not. females were not only beneath him as a male, but everyone was beneath him as the heir to autumn/as a vanserra. he could have whatever he wanted, and if he couldn’t, beron taught him to take it — no child of mine will live life without a spine. thing is though — he is the autumn heir; he is a vanserra. it never could have even gotten to a point of outright rejection because nobody in autumn was foolish enough to say no to him, and he probably didn’t leave autumn at all until after the war with hybern. there was a power imbalance inherent to every encounter he ever had.

but i will say i really don’t see eris ever having to put himself in the role of pursuer, not in any genuine way. beron is sadistic and cruel, but his lessons are never without reason. (however fucked up that reason may be.) beron saw the way fae flocked near eris any time he was at court, even when eris was too young for that attention; beron knew it from his own adolescence. he needed an effective way to steel eris against the sexual and romantic attention he would be inundated with, and he remembered his own father’s lesson being especially effective — hence the bed slave he sent to seduce eris.

so eris never really got to a point where he had to face rejection in that way. because 1) he would never willingly put himself in a position for his father to humiliate him again and 2) he never had to go out of his way for female attention. he never wanted for a fae to occupy his bed or drape across his lap, because they were there whether he wanted them to be or not. (and beron ensured he did not.) he grew to despise the way others looked at him, their eyes sparkling with the effect of his power, or his youth, or his face, or his body — with their greedy, ravenous want of him. he would still entertain them at revels and take them to bed (at least he was wanted at all) but it was all very masturbatory. if they were going to use him for his power, he was going to use them for his pleasure. never quite maliciously, the way some of his brothers did. but their pleasure was not his concern. if they got off, it was because they made it happen. why should he give them anything more than they were already taking from him?

* i do really like the idea that one of the first times eris ever slipped out into autumn glamoured, he assumed a female was making an advance on him and rebuffed her, and she just wrinkled her nose and, as if i’d slum it with the likes of you. i think that was the first time he really found himself struck with active desire for a female, not just responsive. because if she didn’t want him, then she didn’t want anything from him. and since he wasn’t himself, he didn’t have that rush of entitlement that would make him resent the rejection.

[acotarmemes]

ACOTAR texts // dogs

icon by @copypastus

[irithiadourden]

Excuse me for being greedy but:

3 Tamcien, 34 Elucien and 17 Luzriel?

Please 🙏🏻 and thank you

Of course Nony! I hope you like this.

For microstory ask game

Edit: I WAS POSTING THIS WHEN I REALIZED IT SAID TAMCIEN AND NOT TAMRIS. Sorry, I promise Tamcien in another post nony.

Tamris, I trusted you

"I trusted you!" Tamlin roared like thunder, his voice echoing off the walls of the mansion. He was furious; it wasn't hard to tell by how tense his body was, even in his beast form. Anyone else might have been frightened by the magic filling the air, the roar, or the fact that the six-foot creature was approaching so closely that its sharp fangs were visible.

Fortunately, Eris was not just anyone. He had spent a lot of time over the years sneaking away to see him, getting news about Lucien, and just spending time with Tamlin. If there was one thing he was sure of—much more than anything else—it was that the High Lord of Spring was incapable of harming him, even by accident.

"Yes, and that's exactly why you should get off your ass and go meet him tomorrow." He replied, fed up with the argument.

"No." Tamlin was so close that his breath tickled his face.

"Can I talk to the High Lord and not Spring's beast?" Eris asked suspisciously calm. Something inside Tamlin told him it was a trap; he clearly hadn't won the discussion and was just delaying the inevitable.

With a sigh of resignation, followed by the scent of petrichor and wildflowers that permeated the atmosphere when he used his magic, Tamlin resumed his fae form. He was naked, as always happened when he transformed. He had never been ashamed of his nakedness, but at that moment, he felt particularly exposed. Especially since Eris gave him an unabashedly appreciative look.

"Good boy."

Okay, Tamlin was getting an erection that was impossible to disguise, and Eris was holding him in place with just his presence. He couldn't think straight under that gaze; it was like fire caressing every inch of his bare skin.

"You're not playing fair," he grumbled, trying to regain the upper hand. He was still terribly irritated with him and wasn't planning to give in just because—

"I never do." Eris reached up and tangled his fingers in Tamlin's blond hair. His grin widened when he noticed Tamlin's breathing falter. This time, it was Autumn's High Lord who closed the distance until their mouths were almost touching. "Are you going to meet with Lucien to make peace? I'm sick of seeing you two miserable."

Tamlin swallowed hard. A small part of him told him that he had fallen right into an ambush. The other part was willing to do whatever it took to taste those lips again. “All right.”

Eris smiled wickedly and finally gave him a kiss that made him forget his own name.

Luzriel, empty

He couldn't explain why, but when he turned to look at that broken expression, his chest tightened, making it hard to breathe. Lucien was always a living flame, a ray of sunshine breaking through any darkness with his courtier's manners and silver tongue. But the man before him was an empty shell, a shadow to whom he couldn't whisper to extract secrets, or coax into doing something to lift the weight of sadness.

"Train with me." Azriel threw a roll of bandages that Lucien caught in midair with ease, always graceful. He could no longer bear to watch him shut down like that. In his experience, physical exercise could work wonders for clearing one's mind.

Lucien was ready to protest but the words died on his lips when he noticed the Shadowsinger's unwavering expression. Why did he always plague his thoughts? Even his shadows seemed to entangle themselves in Lucien's hair and clothing as if seeking to hide in the darker spots where his skin was less bright. He would never admit it aloud, but he was grateful for Azriel's presence, even if he wasn't sure why.

The heir to the Day Court sighed dramatically, wrapped his fists in bandages, and rose from the couch. "Where are we going to train, in the living room? I'm sure Feyre told Cassian that if he broke another one of his precious chandeliers, she would forbid him from entering.” Without realizing it, Lucien had been following Azriel as he spoke. He just noticed they were outside at the entrance.

"No, we're going to the House of Wind."

“Do I have to remind you that I can't winnow there?” Lucien rolled his eyes.

Azriel said nothing, merely stretching out his arms and giving him a look that was a mixture of amusement and defiance. The last time they went to that place, the Shadowsinger had taken him there. He wanted to say no, but the grin, as if to say, "What? You don't dare?" nagged at his pride.

So, with his head held high, Lucien reached over and let Azriel lift him off the ground, without blinking—and without breathing, if he was being honest. His arms instinctively closed around Azriel's neck. If either of them noticed how fast their hearts were beating, they said nothing.

Elucien, bauble

The aroma of freshly baked cinnamon cookies flooded the house, and Lucien took a deep breath, filling himself with the delicious fragrance that brought back happy childhood memories. His mother used to sneak into the kitchen to prepare them, and now Eris was making them with Azriel's help.

This meant that his mate was free of cooking duties. However, he couldn't find her in the gardens or their room, so he reached into his chest for the connection they shared. The bond guided him to where Elain was tiptoeing, trying to put one last bauble on the winter solstice tree.

Lucien being the perfect gentleman, reached over, grabbed her by the waist, and lifted her a few inches so she could settle the ornament.

"Lu!" she complained but the fondness in her voice was evident.

His mate smiled mischievously, and when he set her feet back on the floor, he pulled her close to his chest. Lucien began to leave kisses on her temple, cheeks, and nose, finally reaching her lips. Her giggles were a melody that echoed in his heart and brought him pure joy.

"You are a menace, Lucien Vanserra." She scolded him affectionately, her gaze sparkling.

Lucien gave her another kiss until she was breathless.

"But I am yours, Elain Vanserra."

At his words Elain's smile lit up like the sun, bathing him in warmth that seeped into his bones.

I had to google what a bauble was.

Ps: please, if you send an ask, make it a number other than 2, 3, 7, 10, 13, 15, 17, 24, 25, 26, 28, 33, 34, 41, 43 or 47.

[ninthcircleofprythian]

My Eris Omegaverse fic hit over 1k likes on A03...without a comment. COME ON YALL. Come be freaks with me!

[cthoniian]

he would have married her. he suspected, as they stand side by side overlooking the milling crowds of this place beneath the mountain, a court of self proclaimed nightmares; that he would have probably grown to love her. eris vanserra is a man who does not love easily, reserved for the few, harshness and coldness are given to the rest. but, he is not without compassion. and nesta archeron is a woman who deserves both respect, and compassion.

‘ i suspect my brother burns more like the solar than i, but i accept the compliment nonetheless. ‘ a dip to his head as he inclines his gaze to her. profile turned to the crowds as he moves to focus on her alone. lucien recently was recognised as heir to the day court, his golden light more sun than fire. but eris cannot pretend he didn’t know. or that he begrudged his mother a moment of peace or joy she’d found.

fingers flex as he moves, offering an arm — ‘ shall we terrorise the masses? i suspect a rumoured alliance might cause quite the stir. and the night court lord seems too smug for my liking. ‘

what’s a little good natured antagonism between court allies after all? there is no expectation, no demand, only an offer. he may be allied with the night court for the eventuality of disposing of his father. but he will be an ally if she wishes it.

look at you, glowing like a solar fire. // eris & nesta // @moondevoured

[signcfthetiimes]

i hope i'm not interrupting anything. (Eris to Aragorn) @allthatglxtters

aragorn looked up from his paper work at the other man and offered a warm smile. "nothing that can't wait," he said. setting the pen down, he straightened up the papers so he could give eris his attention. having siblings here was a new sensation for aragorn, considering his parents died young back in middle earth. but the memories of them felt real so he wanted to keep up relationships with them both. "please, take a seat. how are you?"

[betss1256]

If Azris can’t be canon then I’m going to manifest at least one more interaction between them for ACOTAR 6 (preferably another choking scene)

[spiritedstars]

You ever think about, as of now, if the heirs to the courts were all put together at some fancy gathering (think like the kids table at a wedding) it would literally just be Eris and Lucien babysitting Nyx?

Okay but the first thought that came to me was the song "well, he looks at me — and I look at him —and he looks at me — and I look at himmm" with Lucien and Eris looking at baby Nyx and then at each other.

Eris squints at Nyx, who is sitting there with his big, beautiful eyes watching the two of them, then turns to Lucien, his expression flat. "They did this on purpose so we could babysit their spawn, didn't they?"

Lucien, who already knows this is the plan, pulls out the baby bag Feyre just so happens to have 'forgotten' by the door full of Nyx's things. "Yup."

It was a very productive meeting. Nyx's babbling decided the new trade laws, and the three of them ended up taking a much-needed nap.

[nocasdatsgay]

From the Ashes the Wildflowers Grow

Chapter 3: Secrets

Summary: Eris is a master secret keeper but when his own secrets are threatened and discovered, he is left scrambling to get Celeste out of the court.

Word count: 4256

Warnings: Beron, implied threat and violence towards a female character, implied homophobia, implied but not detailed torture, mild descriptions of wounds, acosf spoilers

Authors note: This takes place after acosf. My timeline will start to get iffy but the timeline in the books leave much to be desired. Also due to word count and the fact I can’t access tumblr at work, this is an ao3 only chapter. It’s plot heavy.

Read chapter 3: Secrets here on ao3

Masterpost and full summary info here

Excerpt below

How many days had it been? Eris lost track again. She was going to kill him. He winnowed directly to his cabin. If he was lucky, she was still there. When he landed just outside the wards, he heard barking. He cursed to himself; he left Willow unattended. He really hoped Celeste was there. He unlocked the door and a faint floral smell greeted him. He sighed, relieved she was indeed in the home. He called out to her and immediately heard footsteps rushing.

“Eris?” She ran into the foyer, stopping short in front of him. She looked him over, and worry etched itself into her features. “You’re hurt.”

[wastelcndbby]

"What is it about killers that they want to get caught so bad?" (Eris for anyone)

did he want to get caught? Ben knew it was likely this person wasn’t from his world and didn’t know him. he imagined the other would have had a stronger reaction. still…the question made him think. because he had been a killer, ordered the deaths of hundreds, if not by his own hands. “maybe they know what they are doing is wrong, deep down. maybe they chose that path because they didn’t have any other option and now they don’t know how to get out.” he shrugged, knowing that his analysis sounded vaguely empathetic, that it made him sound just a bit suspicious. “that, or they’re genuinely crazy and just like the attention. but even that stems from deeply rooted trauma i imagine.”

[acoazlove]

OH my god, i’m literally reading this as i’m sitting at the airport waiting to go home, and i’m so unbelievably excited to know what happens next! this is SOOO incredibly written and i am so happy that she didn’t reject the bond! az avoiding her is obviously bad but i can’t wait to see how he makes it up to her.

him saying “Eris would be more upset if I shielded him. Autumn males are incredibly proud creatures.” made me giggle to myself, i love eris and his dynamic in the series! and also can’t wait to see how reader fits into it!

i haven’t been reading that much this week and am so excited to start reading again! i love them and this series! incredible writing as always!! <33

Tell me I’m the only, only, only, only one - part six

Pairing: Eris x Azriel x reader | WC: 4.2k | warnings: general angst, mentions of dizziness and nausea

Summary: you wake up only to find out you were unconscious much longer than anticipated, leading to multiple needed confrontations

Author’s note: I’ve been a bit MIA lately 😅 just throwing this out in the void before going through my dms/inbox. I’m soooo excited for the next part

Previous part | Next part | Masterlist

You didn’t need to open your eyes to know how bad your head hurt. It felt impossibly heavy, practically glued to the pillow beneath you. You weren’t entirely sure your neck could hold up its weight anymore. You groaned, not really certain where you were. You combed through the last things you remembered, all of it a blur of blood and exhaustion, none of it clear.

“Do you want to tell me what’s been going on with you?”

A low female voice greeted you, receiving only a grunt in response. Thinking was hard and it only caused the throbbing in your head to worsen. You weren’t entirely sure who was talking to you or why, but you focused all of your energy trying to remember what happened.

All you could remember was blood and pain, a tiredness that you carried in your bones. There was arguing and arrows and Eris. Slowly more and more came back to you until you sat up, wincing at the sudden change, nearly nauseous from the movement.

“Azriel? How’s Azriel?” Your eyes cracked open to find your room around you, albeit slightly cleaner than when you had left it. The still room was a sharp contrast to how you felt inside. Nesta was sitting in a chair next to your bed, a book in her lap, a finger marking her place in it.

She didn’t look happy to see you, nor did she seem to care that you were awake.

“He’ll be fine, thanks to you it would seem.”

You groaned, falling back onto the bed. The suddenness was something you had not learned from when sitting up. Now the room was slightly spinning before you shut your eyes tight, hoping for some reprieve. You rubbed your eyes harshly until you saw stars.

“It would also seem like you almost burnt out saving him.”

Burnt out.

It was something they warned all healers, magic or not. There is a breaking point. A point of no return. It’s happened to many healers over the centuries, especially during times of war, when they don’t quite know their own limits.

Something all healers learn is the whereabouts of their magical limitations, where they need to stop before doing serious damage to themselves. All healers were taught not to place someone else’s life above your own. It’s drilled into your heads, one of the first rules of practicing the healing arts.

But you had done it. You had placed Azriel’s life above your own without even a second thought.

The pained look that was on Eris’s face was enough to keep you from crumbling from that realization.

For hours, you placed Azriel’s healing above yourself. You made the choice over and over again, choosing him over yourself. You made the right call. You would do it again. You could handle a broken bond, but not a dead one.

Maybe this one sided devotion was proof enough you were making the right decision.

“I’m sure you have a better understanding than I do of how stupid and reckless that is, and yet you still did it.” Nesta’s voice wasn’t the happy, soothing voices you usually hear patient’s families spoke with after they wake up. If you heard someone chastising a patient after waking, you’d chew their heads off. Instead, you stayed quiet, just watching Nesta as she continued on.

“For weeks now, I have sat idly by as you spiraled into self-destruction, but I can’t do so anymore.” Her voice cracked with each word, betraying the anger she was trying to inject into each word. “You are my friend, and I care so much about you. I’m worried about you.”

Her concern cracked at your heart. She crumpled into herself, bringing a hand up to her mouth. She looked uncomfortable, like her body had been glued to the chair and was finally unfolding itself from strange positions to find comfort.

“I’m fine, Nesta.” You were groggy, nauseous, and a bit heartbroken, but you’d be fine. Azriel was alive, you were going to be mateless, but you’d be fine.

Her eyebrows pinched together, a look of annoyance crossing over her features. You weren’t sure if it was over your words or interrupting her.

“I haven’t been there for you as I should. I thought you needed space, and now you’re here.” She spat out the last word, but you knew she wasn’t talking about being confined to your room.

“How long was I out?” You had to stop Nesta’s spiraling and get a handle on the situation. Madja wasn’t here to tell you what had happened, but surely you could parse out your state from a few questions Nesta should know the answers to.

“Four days.”

Nesta must be wrong. Surely there was no way you were incapacitated for four whole days. That was ridiculous. But you looked over Nesta, taking in the purple bags beneath her eyes, her hands fisting into the fabric of her wrinkled dress.

She wouldn’t lie about that.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” And you hadn’t. You hadn’t thought of anyone except for Azriel and Eris for several hours, all of your attention on the two males. When you weren’t examining Azriel for his condition, your gaze would end up floating to wherever Eris was.

But now neither of them are here, just you and Nesta.

“You didn’t scare me. I was terrified. I thought you were gone, thought you wouldn’t wake up.”

“Nesta, it wasn’t that bad.”

“Wasn’t that bad?” She repeated your words with a venom that had you recoil, preparing yourself for the strike. “You were wailing in Cassian’s arms in the foyer. You were inconsolable until you passed out. Madja’s been here nearly every hour to check on you.”

Shit. If Madja was making hourly rounds, you were in worse shape than you thought. Hourly rounds meant you must have been practically knocking on death’s door.

“What happened out there? What happened when you were with Azriel and Eris?” Nesta was practically pleading, desperate for some kind of answer. She was like a dog, a scent stuck in her nose until she nosed her way to the truth. You wanted to break, tell her everything.

Until you’re struck by the memory of Eris’s hand, pushing through Azriel’s wings, finding you. How tight his grip was, he warm his skin had been.

“We were ambushed. Azriel took the brunt of it. We healed him and came straight back here.” You absentmindedly rubbed at your wrist

“But you were gone for hours. You should have winnowed back.”

“Eris winnowed us somewhere. He was in bad shape, so I fixed him. How’s Azriel?” You needed to know more about his condition. Nesta said he’d be fine, but did that include any long term effects? How much had your healing helped him?

“He’s resting, but he’ll be fine.” She crossed her arms, her fingers tapping on her arm, not telling you much more than she already had. You were sure this was her punishing you, by leaving you in the dark on Azriel.

“If he wasn’t fine after you nearly killed yourself to save him, I’d resuscitate both of you to kill you myself.” You hadn’t realized you forgot to respond until she chastised you.

“Nesta-“

“You both were gone for hours. It was supposed to be quick. None of us realized until Rhysand couldn’t get through to either of you.”

You blinked, surprised at that. Eris must have had some form of protection put around the cabin that stopped Rhysand.

Interesting.

“And now you’re telling me next to nothing.”

“I just woke up. I can hardly recall it all myself, okay?” A lie. You remembered all of it clearly. The splintering wood, having to carefully remove the arrowheads, all of the blood gushing from him, Eris’s quick remarks.

“Did you fuck him?” The question was quick and unexpected, and you nearly snapped your neck with how quickly you looked at her.

“Who, Eris?” She didn’t move, didn’t give away any slight movement. Still as a statue as yiur heart began beating faster.

“Yes, Eris. You reek of him these days. I won’t tell the others, but I need to know.” His name on her tongue sent a rush through your body, your jaw ticking in annoyance.

“Yes Nesta, I fucked him while Az was bleeding out.” The barb was quick on your tongue, this conversation raising your heckles and irritating you more than anything. Nesta’s eyes hardened for a flash, a mischievous glint in them before she softened ever so slightly, her voice turning from admonishing to conspiratorial in a manner of seconds.

“Do you think he’s a selfless lover?”

“No.” The response was too quick, too ready on the forefront of your mind, something that didn’t go unnoticed by your friend. “I imagine he’s selfish in every aspect of his life.”

“So you imagine it?”

“Nesta.” Her name was sharp from your mouth, a knife slicing across the room. She took a more defensive stance, approaching your bed. A knowing smirk overtook her features for just a moment before it quickly contorted into one of concern and annoyance.

“Mother’s sake, tell me something, anything.” Nesta was pleading at this point, uncaring at the vulnerability and guilt she was sure was all over her face.

“I can’t.”

“You can tell me anything. Are you in danger?”

“No.”

“Well, I don’t know! You’re avoiding everyone, you're being self destructive, you’re spending a lot of time with Eris of all fae. What am I supposed to think?” She was pacing now, her footfalls back and forth across your floor, an anxious rhythm that only dug the secret deeper and deeper inside of you.

“Nesta, I can’t tell you.”

“I’m not accepting that.”

“What?” Her concern was shifting into nosiness. You clenched your hands in frustration, nails digging into skin harsh enough to leave marks.

“It’s not good enough.”

Rage was coiling inside of you, a ferocity nipping at your fingertips begging to be let out. You had to swallow down a growl from slipping out, the territorial feeling nearly consuming you.

You had to stall her. Get her out of here before you exploded before her.

“Give me a month to figure things out. I’ll be honest with you then.”

“A week.” You sighed through your nose. Of course Nesta was going to barter with you. Your left hand felt warm. A small trickle of blood was about to stain your sheets, no doubt.

“Two weeks.”

She looked to the window, her face blank as she thought over your offer. She was taking this almost too seriously, as if it were hostage negotiations or preparing for war.

“Fine. Fourteen days from now you’re telling me everything.” She pointed a long finger at you, the agreement weighing the air down. You felt a shift in the room, uncertain of the magical perimeters of your verbal agreement.

You released your hand, grabbing the pillow behind you. You didn’t care about the blood as you held the soft material to your face and screamed.

-

Members of the Inner Circle trickled in throughout the day, each one wanting to see for themselves you were awake and had all your faculties about you. It was sweet, but by the time you had seen Cassian and his boisterous laugh, your head was pounding so hard it made the soft lights in your room appear blinding.

Feyre had come in a few hours after Cassian, boxes loaded in her arms as she came into your room. You were a bit groggy, having just woken from a nap in the hopes it would tampen your migraine.

It half worked.

“What is all that?”

The boxes shuffled in Feyre’s arms, ringing and tingling with each step.

“Well, I wanted to bring some jewelry to look over for the gala in a few weeks.” You had completely forgotten about it, had forgotten that one of the days you were incapacitated was a scheduled day for you, Feyre, and Mor to go dress shopping.

“Thanks, Fey. Sorry for missing-” she shushed you, not letting you finish your apology. She spread the boxes across your bed, gently lifting the lid of each one to reveal exquisite necklace after exquisite necklace. Each one contained more vibrant jewels, shinier than the last.

The eight boxes practically blinded you with the light coming in. Feyre noticed the squint in your eye and quickly closed the curtains.

“They're gorgeous, but I haven’t even picked a dress.”

“Maybe you could pick a dress after you pick the jewels. Black goes with everything, so..” she trailed off, sitting in the seat next to you, her back straight. She watched you eagerly, her eyes flitting between you and the pile of jewels before you.

“Are you wearing any of these?”

“No - Rhys surprised me with some onyx pearls. Want them on full display.” She reached a hand up to her throat, as if feeling for the necklace. It was pretty easy to figure out exactly what Feyre meant - skin, and lots of it, on display. She was much quicker to adapt to fae views on modesty than you had anticipated.

“Oh, well in that case.” You sat up a bit straighter, moving slowly to avoid as much pain as possible. Each necklace must have been worth a pile of gold marks.

A few of them looked quite similar - chunky gemstones of varying colors set in different metals. One necklace did catch your eye. You kept looking over to it, the other ones looking dull and lifeless in comparison. Deep red stones perfectly set to resemble Night Court jasmines. The dark red nearly looked black until the light hit it, refracting rays of red. The stones branched out, weaving around the neck to create multiple flowers connected by leaves.

You couldn’t stop looking at the necklace, your hand gently rubbing across it.

“Do you like that one?”

Feyre had a knowing look as she watched you, but you didn't turn to see it.

“Yes. I do.”

-

A few more visitors came and went - Madja (again), Rhysand, Mor. Each one not the shadowsinger you wanted to see. Maybe it was better to wait. Build your strength up a bit before shattering your heart.

Rhysand and Mor could both tell your head wasn’t with them. Rhys accepted it, leaving you to your thoughts, but Mor lingered, her never ending stories an attempt at distracting you. The attempt half worked - at least now only every other thought was about Azriel.

But most of the other ones were about Eris.

Your friends tried to help clear your mind, but all your thoughts whirled and swirled with fire and shadow, bright and vibrant colors immediately snuffed out by the darkness.

Everyone told you Azriel was fine. But where was he? You felt unsettled, unable to truly concentrate without seeing him.

You glanced over to your bedside table, the book on broken mating bonds practically laughing at your turmoil.

You went over what to expect again, trying to see if you can recall all the symptoms and long term side effects of the broken bond, repeating them to yourself like a mantra.

-

It wasn’t until the next day you saw Azriel. He had gently knocked on the door before coming in, each movement slow and unsure, as if approaching a wild animal.

“I had heard rumors you were awake. Wanted to check for myself.” He stood with the door to his back, as far away as possible from you. One hand on the knob, but his body was angled right at you.

You couldn’t think of anything to say, only stare at him outright.

Azriel looked beautiful, like always, but he carried a tiredness with him. His wings weren’t as high as they usually stood, his shoulders were caved in a bit. His shadows were slithering in every direction, all trying to reach you, but held back by some invisible tether.

He looked miserable.

“If you don’t want me here, I can go.” Azriel’s voice was soft, an echo in the dark woods late at night. A salvation or a new fear.

“Have you visited while I was asleep?” You didn’t want to tell him how much you wanted him here, how much you still thought of him.

So what if you were going to stretch out the last few minutes of your bond.

“Madja wouldn’t let me. She had Cassian and Mor practically guarding the door day and night to ensure I stayed put until completely recovered.” He scoffed as he said it, as if he were nothing more than an animal incapable of decisive thought.

Or they didn’t think he was the coward he had been for the past few weeks. They thought him capable of seeing you.

And yet here he was. Despite his self-loathing, his inability to make a decision, to speak, to do anything his mates need him to.

He wanted to be the male his mates needed.

“I wanted-“ he began, searching the room for his next words, as if they would be written out on your wardrobe or the painting behind your head. He tightened his hand into a fist, the scars nearly turning white as he looked at you head on.

“I wanted to thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. It’s my job.”

“It’s not your job to nearly die saving me.”

“I would have done it for anyone else.” The second the words left your lips, you knew Azriel wouldn’t believe them. He always knew when you were lying somehow, as if the mating bond gave him some unfair advantage to your heart and motivations.

Azriel only nodded, not fighting you on the lie. You watched him suspiciously, watched his chest rising and falling, subconsciously counting his breaths.

“Are you tired?”

He looked anguished, like he carried a deep hunger and no meal was enough to sustain him, let alone nourish him.

“No.”

“Nesta said you needed more rest.”

“Nesta lies when it suits her.”

An awkward silence settled over the two of you, weighing you down further into the bed. You took a deep breath, propping yourself up on your elbows until you reached a sitting position. You knew what you had to do, what you had to say. It wouldn’t get easier the longer this went on. Azriel moved to your side, moving pillows to give you a proper cushion and to help prop you up.

“We should talk, Az.” He looked over you, the pillows abandoned as all of his attention was focused on you. You held your hands in your lap, wringing them for every ounce of courage they contained to get through this conversation. Your stomach churned with dread, the thread around your heart trying to stop you from saying what you had to.

“When you were injured, because of me, I decided it’s not fair to you or me to keep dragging this out. We should end things.” You looked at your hands, proud you had gotten the words out without stuttering or breaking. You swallowed harshly, your throat dry, but you couldn’t bring yourself to reach for the water on your nightstand.

Quiet surrounded you, a stillness you hadn’t expected from this conversation. There were no shouts or sobs, no frustration sitting in your chest. No relief or songs of praise at being free.

Just silence. Like you had made him incapable of thought or feeling with those words.

“Is that what you want? Or is that what you think I want?” His words startled you, and you finally looked up to find a layer of rage coating his face. He had come closer while you were looking elsewhere, finally being in the room, allowing himself in the narrative.

Finally taking charge.

“Isn’t it? What’s the point in having a mate who doesn’t want you?” Your words had an immediate effect on him, the male before you rubbing his hands on his face. One of his shadows hooks around his fingers, trying to pry them away, to make him seen. Another one swirls his ear, and you can’t discern it, but you hear a light buzzing from it.

He sits in the chair next to your bed before quickly getting back up and grabbing one of your clammy hands.

“I have not been good to you or Eris. This is hard, okay? No one has ever had this happen and I didn’t want either of you hurt.”

You scoffed, trying to pull your hand away, but he held it tighter. The textured grooves of his skin were more prominent as he held you. “Bit late for that.”

“Please. Please, give me more time. Give me a chance. Maybe we can figure something out, some kind of arrangement.” He was desperate, a pleading voice you had never heard from him. Was this how criminals of the Night Court looked to him, pleading at the ends of their lives for just one more chance?

“An arrangement?”

“I don’t know, okay? I’m not sure what to do when I have two mates who I care about who also hate each other and they both currently hate me.” He paused, chest heaving. His hazel eyes looked so lost, so unsure. “Not to mention someone out there knows about us or about us being out there. I haven’t been able to figure it out, haven’t been able to figure any of this out.”

The end of his sentence tapered off into his spymaster voice. A tone full of obsession and getting to the root of things, a dogged voice of determination.

“Please, let me take care of you. If not as your mate, as your friend. I care so deeply about you and you are where all my thoughts have been the past few days.”

“What of Eris?” Azriel used to recoil at the mention of his other mate, his name so foreign on your tongue. Now he showed no change, almost happy to hear it.

“He’s popped in now and then. He’s angry with me for getting hurt.” The mention of it sent you back there. A large, heavy body nearly crushing you in an effort to save you. Hoe you had felt him slump into you, his body giving out, unable to hold himself up any longer.

“Is he upset you shielded me?”

“Eris would be more upset if I shielded him. Autumn males are incredibly proud creatures.”

“As proud as Illyrians?” Your question brought a smirk to his lips, a twitch you knew he couldn’t suppress. You hadn’t seen it in a few weeks, but it felt more like a lifetime since you had a chance to see anything other than impassiveness or pain on his face.

“Almost.” He chuckled, lighthearted and free. A rarity you didn’t take for granted. His smile melted, a more serious, solemn expression overtaking his face. His hazel eyes were a shade full of desperation you knew a little too well.

“Give me time. Please. I’ll handle Eris. Just don’t - don’t reject the bond if you have an ounce of hope this could work. That’s not a sadness I wish to see you carry.”

“Why are you talking to me about this now? You’ve been avoiding this for weeks, Az.”

“I was afraid. I thought if I acknowledged it, I'd be hurting Eris. But I hurt both of you anyway. And I need-” the words die on his tongue, an awkward pause as he searches for the right words without being too vulnerable. “I need to- I needed to.. I don’t know how to do this. To be the male you both need. But I’m here now. I’m here.”

“Are you here because you have to be?”

“No. I want to be here. Let me be here. Let me try.”

Something about him cracked you open inside. In the weeks of this turmoil, the constant push and pull, the uncertainty, Azriel hadn’t looked so open, so vulnerable, so pained. If you spent long enough, you were sure you could map out every regret on his face.

Two roads laid before you. To end it all now, cut off any further heartache. Or you could try, allow Azriel time to figure something out.

He cared for you, you knew that deep inside of you.

With each passing second, your earlier resolve to end things became weaker and weaker, your heart winning the argument with your mind. Perhaps Nesta was right: you were self-destructing. Or was it the mating bond, so loudly swirling in your chest, determined to see itself recognized, even if it meant leading you overboard into frigid waters?

“You may stay. One condition.”

Azriel’s face relaxed, but he still seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, your words only lifting a few pounds off the load.

“You can’t leave at any inconvenient time, can’t just leave or shut me out because things get hard. I am your mate, and if you don’t treat me as an equal, or someone of importance… I’m gone.”

“Of course.” A light tingle gripped you again, less powerful than the magic that had floated around during your deal with Nesta. This time it was more like a light wind disturbing settled dust, spreading it across the both of you. Azriel’s skin almost brightened with the promise, breathing new life into him.

It suited him.

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[seleneprince]

A Court of Shadows and Blood Chapter 4

He’s not accustomed to failure.

He definitely has had his bad moments over the years, specially the last fifty of them, but not even an eternity could've prepared him for this kind of failure.

The iron chains bite into his wrists, bruising him, and the fury that surges through him is an unfamiliar, unwelcome thing. That human filth. It dawns to him he doesn't even know her name, didn't bother to ask. Pets don't need names, after all. They're supposed to go by whatever their masters call them.

But of course, nothing about his pet is remotely conventional. Or predictable.

The improvised cuffs press against his skin when he pulls, an angry growl escaping his throat. ¿When did she learn to do these cursed knots? It's embarrassing that such a simple trap by a mere human has him struggling like this.

It doesn't help her scent is all over the room: fear, anger, desperation. It clings to the air like a mocking reminder of her audacity, mingling with the faint aroma of jasmine that has lingered on her since he found her in the woods. Not even a bath could wash it away, it seems.

Talons grow from his fingers and grip the chains, his body slowly drawing in magic. The iron clatters to the floor in broken pieces, shattering the heavy silence with its sharp, echoing clamor.

He doesn't waste a second in wrenching himself free of the chains she’d dared to shackle him with. He sits up, massaging his wrists as he processes the situation.

A human—a weak, pathetic human—has bested him. A creature so insignificant, so beneath his existence, has somehow outwitted him.

He forces himself to breathe, to quiet the chaos roaring in his chest. He rolls his shoulders, shaking off the phantom ache of the uncomfortable position he's been trapped in, and straightens to his full height. His eyes go to the door, the one she slammed behind her when she escaped.

He's tempted to winnow whenever she is and drag her back by the hair, but he pauses. Her scent has left a faint yet traceable trail, probably not for other faeries, but obvious to him. It's how he usually tracks down people, by following the scent.

His mind conjures a much better idea. His feet move in slow, measured steps to the door, forcing it open with such force the hinges creaked.

Let her think she has won. Let her believe she could actually flee from him. He'll give her some time to rejoice, to harbour some hope, and then he'll appear in front of her like her worst nightmare, and tear her hopes apart.

That human will learn soon enough what it means to defy the High Lord of the Night Court.

Yet…there's something else. Something that gnaws at him as he stalks through the corridors, shadows trailing him like loyal sentries. Her scent still lingers faintly in the air, a whisper of her presence leading him through the labyrinthine halls beneath the mountain. She's clever; he’ll give her that. The chains have been a surprise, a calculated move, but her fear had betrayed her as much as her defiance had fueled her.

What had Amarantha said? 'Humans are awfully predictable.' Rhysand agreed with her then. Now he only wants to laugh at the statement.

As he rounds another corner, his focus sharpens. The shadows whisper to him of faint disturbances in the hidden veins of the mountain. Smart human. She found the passages carved long ago—ones only a very selective group of Fae knew of and used. He smirks, the expression devoid of warmth.

But then the scent shifts. A second trail—familiar, acrid, and infuriating—weaves through the air. His eyes narrow.

Eris Vanserra.

The Autumn heir is many things—conniving, vain, a pain in the ass—but he wouldn’t have pegged him as reckless. For all his posturing, Eris rarely plays games without a clear path to victory. And yet, the fact that the human have vanished toward his direction can’t be coincidence.

He doesn’t bother masking his approach. Let Eris know he's coming. Let him prepare whatever barbs or jests he think can deflect his wrath. It won't matter.

He finds Eris in his chambers, lounging near the fire like a contented cat, his auburn hair gleaming in the flickering light. The scent of blood lingers faintly, though Eris’s immaculate clothing shows no signs of injury.

"Vanserra," He growls, stepping inside without invitation.

Eris glances up, his lips curling into that familiar, insufferable smirk. "Oh my, this is a surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Lord of the Night?"

The shadows curling around Rhys’s shoulders darken, their edges sharper. "Don’t play games with me, Eris. Where is she?"

Eris tilts his head, feigning confusion. "She? You’ll have to be more specific. I’ve entertained many guests tonight."

Rhys’s temper flares, his power surging in a pulse that rattles the nearby furniture. "Don’t waste my time. You know exactly who I mean. The human. My human."

Eris raises an eyebrow, having the nerve to look at him as if he’s saying something foolish.

"Sorry, but I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about," he replies—slowly, carefully, mockingly—as if speaking to a disgruntled child. "Are you sure you’re not just tired? I know she’s been keeping you busy lately..."

Usually, he reminds himself that Eris is nothing more than a child compared to him. That this male, this brat—no matter the rich silks he now wears or the lethal fire running through his veins—is beneath his notice in terms of age, power and experience. That it's beneath him entertain his games and jabs.

But right now, he has no patience for brats.

"Spare me your bullshit, Vanserra." He relishes the faint flicker of surprise in Eris’ eyes at the growl in his voice. It’s unusual. He shouldn’t be losing control like this, not in front of a Vanserra... but he’s too fucking angry to care. "I can smell her here. Where. Is. She?"

The heir of Autumn blinks at him, expression frustratingly unreadable. But he can still sense the undercurrent of fear just beneath the surface of his mind.

Eris rises to his feet slowly, his eyes locked on the High Lord before him. He moves carefully, like he’s watching a predator poised to strike—or a wounded animal ready to lash out. Clasping his hands in front of him, he tilts his head at the older male.

"Who exactly is 'her'?" His smirk is infuriating. "I don’t understand... Oh!" He chuckles. Oh, how he wishes he could rip that sound out of his throat. "Are you hiding something from us, Lord of the Night? It must be quite important if our queen doesn't know yet."

The shadows curling around his shoulders hiss, their edges growing razor-sharp.

"I’m warning you, Eris," he grits out, fists clenching. "I’m losing my patience here. Tell me where the fuck she is right now, or you can say goodbye to you and your miserable family before tomorrow."

Eris’ smirk vanishes. His voice, when he speaks, is deadly serious. "Keep my family out of your filthy mouth."

The threat in his tone is surprising, but not entirely unexpected. Eris has his own buttons that can be pressed.

"They have nothing to do with your personal messes. If I were you, I’ll be more worried about Amarantha finding out. I wonder what she’ll think of her whore keeping a human pet under her nose—without her permission."

Something snaps.

A guttural growl rips through him as his power surges, lashing out and shattering the furniture around them. His fist slams into the wall beside Eris’s head, cracking the stone. His knuckles ache from the impact, but he barely acknowledges it. The feral darkness inside him roars, swallowing the room whole.

And he doesn't care.

"I'm sick of your games, Vanserra." His voice is low, lethal. The rage dripping off his mouth. "I don't like when people tamper with my things. Tell me where you hid her, or I'll fucking slit your throat right here. How would your mother fare mourning another son?"

For the first time this night, Eris flinches. It’s subtle—just the briefest flicker of something sharp and almost vulnerable flashing through those amber eyes—but Rhys still catches it. The reaction only fuels his bloodthirst, makes the shadows coil tighter around him, hungry, eager to rip the truth from Eris’s throat.

But the heir of Autumn recovers quickly. His lips curl into something that’s not quite a smirk, but not quite a snarl either.

Rhys can feel Eris's pulse quicken, can sense the way his body tenses just slightly, poised between fight and flight. The amusement has drained from his features, replaced by something cold and calculated.

"Careful, High Lord," Eris murmurs, voice dangerously smooth despite the way Rhys has him caged against the wall. "Threatening me is one thing. But bring up my mother again, and we’ll see just how much you enjoy having your insides burned to ashes."

The tension crackles between them, thick and volatile. His patience is razor-thin, but Eris’s tone gives him pause. For all his flaws, he knows the Autumn heir isn't bluffling. He's his father's favourite for a reason, and the land chose him as Heir for the same. The power that runs through his veins is enough to reduce armies to ashes, among other more painful and twisted things. He might not rival his shadows, but he knows better than understimate him.

Eris is a player of the long game. Just like him.

Rhys exhales harshly through his nose. He doesn’t have time for Eris’s dramatics—not when she is still out there, running, slipping further from his grasp with each passing second.

The air shifts subtly, a faint rustle in the shadows. Rhysand freezes, his sharp senses attuned to every nuance of the moment.

The passage. A whisper of movement. A misstep.

His entire body stills.

His eyes snap to the archway just beyond Eris’s shoulder. The scent is faint, barely there beneath the thick autumn spice of Eris's presence, but it’s unmistakable.

It's her. The human. His pet.

She’s close. So close he can almost hear her frantic mortal heartbeat, can almost taste the delicious fear clinging to her skin.

Eris shifts slightly, as if realizing what Rhys has picked up on. The smirk creeps back onto his face, lazy and sharp. "Oops."

Rhys nearly slams him back against the wall again, but it’s too late. The slight rustle of fabric, the near-silent exhale of breath—it’s all he needs. The realisation strucks him.

"You helped her. You kept me distracted so she could escape."

Eris smirks. "Well, after the stunt she pulled to get here, how could I not? She’s impressive—for a mortal. I'd hate to see her wasting away in the hands of a brute like you."

He tilts his head, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Poor thing was so terrified you’d find her. It pulled my heartstrings. I couldn't help it."

His blood goes ice-cold.

His fingers twitch, the shadows coiling tighter around his frame, reacting to the fury clawing up his spine. He should be the one toying with her, dragging out the inevitable, savoring her fear. Not Eris. Not Eris fucking Vanserra.

"You shouldn’t have done that," Rhys grits his teeth, voice deathly quiet.

Eris chuckles again, the weakened torchlight casting sharp angles across his smirking face. "Oh? And why is that?"

He takes a slow step backward, each movement controlled, precise. The type of control that still exudes violence. "Because it's none of your damn bussiness, Vanserra. And trust me, you don't want to make this personal. Not with me."

Eris clicks his tongue, rolling his shoulders with an air of infuriating nonchalance, fixing his clothes as if he hadn't been pressed against the wall and threatened to death. "You’re overestimating how much I care for you. I was simply curious. That’s all. Last time I saw a human was...when? A milenia ago, I think." His smirk sharpens, eyes gleaming. "And she was dressed like one of your people. You can't expect me to not be interested."

The shadows creep around his feet.

Eris moves away just as fast, sidestepping them as flames spark at his fingertips. "My my, what a temper. Can't even make jokes anymore." he tuts, the flames licking dangerously close to Rhys’s shadows, just enough for them to feel the challenge. "You really want to do this, Lord of the Night? Start something you can't finish?"

"You think I won’t?" I can squash you like a miserable bug just with a flick of my fingers, brat. Don't test me." He snarls. The air is crackling with raw power. "You think I won’t rip your spine out of your throat for meddling in something that doesn’t concern you?"

Eris only smirks. "Now that," he muses, "would be amusing to watch. But unfortunately, you’re simply wasting time." The mockery in his voice drips like venom. "Because every second you stand here posturing is another second she’s slipping further and further away from you."

That makes him still.

The realization is a blade to the gut.

The human is still running.

She is getting away. From him.

Eris leans against the wall, watching the calculation flicker through Rhys’s eyes with thinly veiled amusement. "You could fight me, of course, and you'll probably win," he says, inspecting his nails. "Or you could go after your little pet before she finds her way into real trouble. The kind that won't be as forgiving and understanding as me." He raises his gaze, amusement melting into something more serious. "Because we both know, Rhys, there are worse things than you lurking in these halls."

He doesn’t need the reminder.

He moves before Eris can utter another word, shoving past him and heading straight for the passage. But then, a thought gnaws at him.

He halts. Turns.

"You just helped her escape. Risked your sorry neck for it. And now you're encouraging me to chase after her again." His voice is low, dangerous. "Why help her in the first place, then?"

Eris just watches him, the flickering torchlight playing over the fine angles of his face. His smirk is still there, but it’s thinner now. Less twisted. Less arrogant.

Rhys tilts his head, waiting. Why help her? Eris isn’t the type to throw himself into any kind of risk unless there’s something bigger to gain. Doing reckless moves like this, without a clear benefit for him, is unnatural in the male.

A heartbeat of silence stretches between them. Then, the heir of Autumn exhales, long and slow, and shrugs.

"Like I said, I was curious. That's all."

Rhys narrows his eyes. He can tell when Eris is lying, has had fifty years to know him—except right now, he isn’t. Not entirely, at least.

And it doesn't sit right to him.

A smirk flickers back onto Eris’s lips, a slow, lazy thing. "Besides, you already had your chance to keep her locked up, didn’t you?" His voice is all arrogance, all amused cruelty. "Seems to me like you fumbled that opportunity quite spectacularly. I can't imagine how awfully humiliating it would be for you if this failure became public knowledge."

Rhys’s jaw clenches, shadows hissing around him.

"She’s human, Eris." His voice is ice. He's not letting his brat get under his skin. He won't. "A weak, mortal human with no allies, no power, no place in this world. And yet you—" his eyes narrow, suspicion blooming like ink in his gut "—you helped her anyway."

Eris doesn’t reply immediately. Instead, he moves leisurely to his desk, pouring himself a glass of wine from a decanter that looks worth more than anything that's served in this hellish mockery of a court. He swirls the liquid absently before bringing it to his lips, taking a slow sip.

Then, finally, he says, "Perhaps I simply wanted to see what she was made of."

Rhys doesn’t move. Not even a twitch in his expression.

Eris glances at him over the rim of his glass, something unreadable in his gaze. "And she showed it to me. Quite impressively, I might add."

Rhys’s teeth grind. "That’s not an answer."

"No, it’s not," Eris agrees easily, setting the glass down with a deliberate clink. "But it's not like you would understand the truth, either."

Rhys studies him for a long moment, the gears in his mind turning. There’s something here. Something he’s missing.

And then it hits him.

The way Eris's posture has changed when it came to her. The way he had spoken about her.

The realization slams into him like a punch.

Eris isn’t just helping the human.

He’s testing her.

But why?

Rhys exhales sharply, a quiet, humorless laugh escaping his lips. "You’re playing a dangerous game, Vanserra."

Eris leans back against the desk, arms crossing over his chest. "Aren’t we all?"

Rhys doesn’t have time for this. He doesn’t have time for Eris’s cryptic bullshit or his...whatever it is with the human.

His shadows curling at his heels, slowly engulfing his form.

"I hope you got everything you wanted from this," he murmurs. "Because when I find her, it’s over."

Eris chuckles. "Oh, I’m counting on it."

Rhys doesn’t wait for more.

He turns and disappears into the dark, his mind narrowing to a single purpose.

Hunt his pet down.

He's been in this passage enough times to memorize the dents in the walls, the texture of the rock, even the tiny pests that call it home.

Yet every time, his skin prickles with disgust.

Now, his mind is too focused on the task at hand to notice the dust and dirt around him. He's in tunnel vision, his nose honing in on the familiar human scent.

There's a moment when she's just within reach of his shadows—just one swirl, and he'll have her. He'll drag her back to him, engulf her in his presence with no chance to resist. She can't kick shadows away.

He reaches out, his essence surrounding her, blocking her senses. He still can't quite brush the surface of her mind, but he has other ways to trap her. He feels the warmth of her skin and the rapid beating of her heart, so loud in the heavy silence around them. His shadows caress her, soaking in her fear and confusion.

Just as he's about to seize her, he senses something amiss.

A stinging pain surges through him—a burn, as if he just laid his hands on flames. Instinctively, his shadows recoil immediately.

"What the hell...?"

What was that? It felt like...

He reaches out for her again, but then a door creaks open—a hidden latch in the wall leading to another room. And she slips through, closing it behind her.

Silence settles over the passage once more, broken only by the faint rhythm of her heartbeat from the other side of the wall.

That sting—he knows it well. Too well.

It’s been a millennium since he last felt it, but it’s something he could never forget.

Ashwood.

His jaw tightens. Where the hell did she get her hands on ashwood? She didn’t have it when she left him in the chambers, and there was no way she could have come across casually it while running through the hallways.

Then how—?

A low growl rumbles from his throat.

Eris Vanserra.

Because of course.

Again, he wonders—what game is he even playing? There’s nothing to gain from helping a mortal. In fact, he has far more to lose. He’s already treading a razor’s edge, one wrong step away from pissing him off enough to get himself killed.

But before he can follow that train of thought, something else catches his attention.

A scent.

It halts him mid-step.

Salty, like the sea, but tinged with damp earth.

She’s crying

He can almost taste it on the air—a bitter mix of sweat, tears, and damp earth that now clings to her scent. For centuries, he used to torment mortals without a second thought, driven solely by his own whims. But this…this raw display of vulnerability unsettles him more than any of her antics ever has.

He wanted to break her. To see what she hides behind her walls and have her submit to him, willingly.

He should feel triumph, but instead, a disquiet gnaws at him—a dangerous curiosity about the depth of her defiance, mixed with a pang of something he’d long thought dead.

He presses his lips together, his mind racing in the silence. A mortal with the guts to cry out in despair… and manage to run with that fire still burning in her eyes just as fiercely. She’s more than a pet to be recaptured. She’s a challenge. An enigma he never anticipated.

He scowls into the darkness, anger and confusion warring within him. He should not care about her tears, should not feel any pity for the weak and fleeting nature of mortal sorrow, specially from the one human that has been nothing but an unsufferable pain for him.

And yet...he's not moving. He's not capturing her. He's standing there, in the silent passage, listening to her sobs.

He groans, shaking his head. Enough of this. He will not be distracted. He tightens the grip on the shadows and readies himself to resume the pursuit, his mind sharpening once more to the singular purpose that has driven him since the moment she slipped away. Since she outsmarted him and left him chained to his own damn bed, like a fool.

This human must be found, and she will pay dearly for her insolence—and no amount of tears and begging will save her. But for now, he'll let her think she's safe. That she has escaped him. Let her wallow in her relief before he rips it away from her.

And then, just as suddenly as it started, her tears are gone. She stops.

Her emotional control is fascinating for such a young mortal. Despite his rage, his curiosity still remains underneath all of it. ¿What else is she hiding? How far can she be pushed before breaking?

Only one way to find out.

...........

She doesn’t know how long she’s been running.

She doesn’t know how long she’s been here.

Every hallway looks the same.

Every single corner blurs together.

She doesn’t know where she is. Or what’s going to happen to her.

And worst of all—she still hasn’t found Feyre.

The sharp clicks of her heels against the stone stairs echo in the empty halls, the only sound reaching her ears. Her heavy, ragged breaths have melted into the other white noise thrumming in the background of her senses.

At some point, she had to shove the knife Eris gave her up her sleeve—she needed both hands to steady herself.

She’s tired. Hungry. Thirsty. Scared.

And yet, none of it overshadows the anger burning inside her.

It’s the one thing driving her forward. The one thing that always has.

Then, she hears her mother’s voice.

"People respect anger more than tears, Nesta. If you must feel something, feel angry. Hold on to it. Use it. Don’t ever let anyone see more than that."

Her grip tightens, her jaw clenched so hard it aches.

As soon as she finds Feyre, she’s dragging that idiotic brat back home. She’ll lock her up in their bedroom at the cabin. Tie her to a chair. Break her legs if she has to—just so she can’t run off again.

And then, she’ll stab any cursed fae that dares try to take her away.

Yes. She likes that idea. She likes it a lot.

Suddenly, something curls around her feet mid-step. She trips, barely managing to grip the banister before she crashes to the ground.

Just as she steadies herself, movement flickers ahead.

Then—footsteps. Slow. Measured. Drawing closer.

She pushes herself upright, breath unsteady. And as she lifts her head, she sees it—

A tall, dark figure standing in her path, blocking her view.

No. Not a person.

A monster.

"Found you."

A shiver runs down her spine. Her knees threaten to buckle at the sound of that voice. That awful, terribly familiar voice.

Her breath stutters. Every instinct in her body screams not to look. Not to meet his gaze.

But her eyes lift anyway.

And there they are—those inhuman, violet eyes, gleaming with nothing but twisted intentions.

Before she can turn away, his hand clamps around her throat in a flash. His grip is tight—just enough to cut off her breath for a second.

"Did you have fun, little thing?"

His voice is a purr laced with cruelty. He’s so close she can feel his breath ghosting against her lips. His fingers engulf her entire neck like it’s nothing, locking her in place. She knows—if she so much as twitches, he could snap it in an instant.

"I did," he continues, his smile sharp, almost feral. "It was so fun watching you run around like a headless chicken."

His voice vibrates with a low growl, the edges of his words dripping with amusement and, worse, anger.

Nesta trembles. She claws at his wrist, digging her nails into his skin.

It’s useless. She knows it’s useless.

But she doesn’t know what else to do.

"Well, I'm afraid we're putting an end to the chase now."

His grip tightens. Nesta can’t breathe. She’s choking, clawing desperately for air.

Dark spots bloom at the edges of her vision. Her body grows weak…

"Time to go back to your cage."

The words echo in her head like a sentence passed down by fate.

And then—darkness swallows her whole.

The last thing she feels is his arms catching her. Holding her close.

Like a trap snapping shut.