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[achaoticalien]

A Court of Deceit and Decay

Chapter Three- Eris Vanserra

He hadn’t meant to walk in on her. After Rhysand had dismissed Nesta and her trial, he lounged back in his throne. Eris quickly realised he was last on the priority list and set out to take his own time before their meeting began. 

Disappearing through the winding tunnels that spiralled through the Hewn City. Eris still could not rid his eyes of silver burning into his own. Flickering flames that didn’t feel like his own were burning his skin. As his feet moved on their own accord, he looked around at the rocky walls, lit by bulbs of Faelights that were held by torches. 

There was a pressure deep within his chest, it pulsed erratically, like a flighty heartbeat. It got stronger as he walked. He kept going until he stood face to face with an old office door. 

Glancing around he saw no one. Nothing around as the pressure in his chest increased and increased, til he felt as though it would split his ribs open. Along with it, a soft noise reverberated through the door, the sound of it was muffled enough that he couldn't make out what it was. But it didn’t matter because it sent sheer terror rocketing through his spine. In an instant, he opened the door, and there she was. 

Brushing herself off, and wiping her tears away, Nesta stood with a puffy red face and shaking hands. Facing him with an impassive expression, betrayed by her anxious eyes. Worried he may do something to her. 

Assessing the fear tangible in the air. Eris did the respectful thing and bowed his head, turning his eyes from her saddened face, saying, “Lady Nesta.”

“Lord Eris.” Nesta replied tightly, he lifted his head, eyes looking down at her hands, folded neatly in front of her. She wore dirty clothes that had holes, and somehow still managed to look as regal as she was that day of the High lord’s meeting. ‘

For once in his life, Eris had not a thing to say. He had no idea what to do, what conversation he could make with a woman who had been sentenced to remain underground for the rest of her life. 

“Did you require something?” Nesta asked, clearly uncomfortable. 

“No I-...” Eris stopped himself, adjusting the lapels of his jacket, he said, “I wished to see how you were faring, since-”

“Since I was judged to remain here for the rest of my life?” Nesta supplied, silver eyes taking fire to them. Dear God, the fire caught his own again. Like a hook snagging him and dragging him in close. Eris adjusted the sleeves around his wrists, a bead of sweat collecting underneath his collar. 

“Yes… that.” Eris cautiously broached the subject at hand. 

She sneered, “If you wish for the story go ask the Court about it.”

“I don’t believe they would say much in your favour.” Eris said, stepping into the office further, never completely blocking the door, if only to put her a little at ease. 

“There isn’t anything to say in my favour.” Nesta told him, “Now you’ve seen me, you may kindly leave.”

“There must be something,” Eris insisted, “In your favour.”

“You are poorly mistaken then, Autumn Lord.” She replied, a dangerous glint in her eyes. Something meant to intimidate and push him back. She lifted her nose and looked down at him. 

But there was something behind that perfect porcelain mask. Something broken behind it, the flames that danced, writhing, singing out for his fire. 

“I am not.” He said, with a resolution that caused the glint in Nesta’s eyes to gutter. 

She tilted her head to the side, in a way that was near predatory, “How are you so sure, then?”

“In your eyes,” He barely knew what he was saying, but knew it to be true all the same, “There… eyes don’t lie, Nesta.”

He tried to grin, but only made a half smirk before it dropped as Nesta’s face lowered ever so slightly. She took a slight step back, nostrils flaring, “What do you want?”

What was he doing? What did he want?

“Feyre had seemed adamant that she would protect her sisters,” Eris said, remembering the fierceness with which Feyre kept her sisters by her side, “Yet she is pleased in sentencing you to remain down here.”

The fire dulled in Nesta’s eyes, the burning silver dimming like a light going out. She glanced down before straightening again, “Feyre can protect who she wishes.”

“Nesta-”

“What?” She snapped, seeming to be fully fed up, “What do you want from me? Can’t you see I’ve already hit my record rock bottom? Did Rhysand send you to make me feel worse about myself? What do you want from me, Vanserra?”

Skin heating up, Eris crossed his arms. Mask slipping slightly as his mouth frowned ever so slightly. 

“Rhysand knows better than to order me around.” He said. When Nesta simply levelled him with a deadpan stare, he straightened his posture, moving his arms to fold behind his back. Mother and Cauldron, in five hundred years the last time he fidgeted so was when he was learning the ropes of being a courtier. 

“So what do you want from me?” Nesta hissed, voice low and stiff. 

“I don’t want anything from you, Nesta.” Eris replied smoothly, tilting his head to the side, “Call me curious, I wish to know what led to these altercations.”

It was a game, Eris recognised the ploys in Nesta’s cunning eyes, trying to hide the bloodshot redness and blush of her cheeks. Silver eyes that counteracted deeper rooted rotting emotions that lay beneath the mask. 

Eris couldn’t say for certain why he was trying so hard, but the pressure in his chest only grew. 

Nesta watched him, eyes flicking up and down his form, with a fluid movement, she stretched out a long leg and stepped closer to him. One footstep at a time, the pressure increased. Eris was tied to the floor, his feet weights that anchored him. 

She stopped a shoe away from him. Looking into his eyes, the fire was there, burning like kindling caught by a burning ember. 

“My actions brought them embarrassment.” Nesta said simply, “They hated what I did in my own time.”

“Which… was?” Eris raised an eyebrow, eyes flicking around her face, from her smooth forehead, to her high cheekbones, sharp jawline, thin pink-tinted lips, and always returning to those flame-filled eyes that burned holes in his sockets. 

“Drinking and fucking with no regard,” Nesta answered, her expression remaining carefully neutral, but face flushing red with her own admission. 

As if she was ashamed, or had been made ashamed. 

Eris furrowed his brow. 

“That's… it?”

Surely, surely she did something else. Murdered a man in cold-blood, or kidnapped children, because there was simply no world in which one was sentenced to a life underground in a terror-filled city because they drank and fucked. 

If that were the case, Eris was clearly at risk for being locked down here too. 

“I spent their money.” Nesta looked away, towards the fire, “500 marks.”

“Thats…”

Eris must be being locked down here as well, if that was what the Court of Night considered worthy of being punished for. 

“That’s it?” Eris repeated as if his mind had broken from the absurdity. 

Nesta levelled him with a confused look, “I… I insulted Morrigan, as well as Rhysand and Amren. Argued with them and refused to join them often. I offended them?”

She said it with such a confused tone, as if trying to incriminate herself. 

Now Eris was fully convinced Rhysand had only invited him to be locked down here with Nesta. He’d have to invite Kallias next as well, considering that male spent a lot more than 500 marks on a good night.

“That’s it?” Eris attempted to chastise himself, especially for Nesta’s confused expression at his repeated remarks. 

“Yes?” Nesta blinked. 

Silence took hold, as Eris reigned his tongue back in, but his next words could not be shielded by centuries of careful courtier training, his filter seemingly broken by sheer confusion. 

“Nesta, I don’t believe there is a single Faery in the world that hasn’t spent more than that on a good outing. I don’t believe there is a single Faery in Prythian that hasn’t insulted Rhysand’s sacred Inner Circle more than once either.” He blinked, if it were anyone else he would assume they were lying and hiding some other crime to save face. But from Nesta’s mask breaking off and showing pure and utter confusion, he understood that no, Nesta was telling the truth. 

It made Eris wonder what else Rhysand had done, if he allowed his own sister-in-law to be sentenced to a life like this for something his own Court did on a regular basis. 

“I…” Nesta opened and closed her mouth. 

Seeing her for the first time had been electric, he remembered how she had stood up and spoken with the confidence of a Lord who had reigned for a thousand years. Her efforts in the war, and how she had worked with her sister to slay the King. He remembered that moment of relief when all was done, the War won. He remembered his gratitude to the Mother for giving them the Archeron sisters for it led to their salvation, as fleeting as the moment was, it was a stark memory he would never forget. 

And yet Rhysand put her down here. As if he didn’t owe Nesta his and his general’s lives. 

Eris looked behind him, at the open door, and the darkness it led out into. 

He looked back at Nesta’s burning eyes, the flames that would surely be smothered if she remained in the clutch of said darkness. A flame could only light so much before it went out. 

“Lady Nesta, I have a proposal.” Eris said. 

Nesta raised an eyebrow, “Which is?”

If Rhysand could not appreciate the gift he had been given, Eris could. 

“I don’t believe you have ever visited the Autumn Court,” Holding out a hand, he said, “Would you care for a trip?”

[achaoticalien]

100% agreed

[achaoticalien]

A Court of Deceit and Decay

Chapter Two- Nesta Archeron

“I will not go.” Nesta, even dragged across the Hewn City’s cold floors, did not regret her decision. The words spat in Rhysand’s face, a sneer on her own. He had simply turned to Morrigan and said, “Perhaps, Mor, we will go with your idea.”

After Nesta’s clear defiance, Feyre had simply cast her eyes down, shame and disgust wrinkled on her youthful face. Nesta had felt her gut sink into the lowest pits of her core, not even for how Morrigan barely hid her grin of pleasure at getting to order Cassian and Azriel to prepare to take Nesta to the Hewn City. But at Feyre’s face. How she didn’t have an ounce of so much as concern on her face. All of it, every inch of it, was just about how Nesta had embarrassed her. 

It filled her to the brim with such hot, heavy hatred, she didn’t even pull away when she felt large hands grip her arms and take her away. As Morrigan prepared to call for a gathering in the Hewn City. A public shaming. 

As she had been forcibly winnowed to the gates of the Hewn City. Cold frigid air whipping in her face from the outside. She turned to Morrigan, dressed in red and decorated with gold, she had a wild grin on her pretty face when she turned to Nesta. Giddy at the idea of getting too exact revenge for Nesta’s commentary on her dress, the Archeron sister supposed. 

“You enjoy this.” Nesta commented, voice as blank and numb as she felt. After the months of harassment from the entirety of the Inner Circle, she could honestly say, this was something she wasn’t surprised by. 

Morrigan smoothed over her expression with one of pity and sadness. Directing her eyes to Feyre, who looked back, Morrigan turned up the teary doe eyes, and the High Lady nodded, turning a sharp gaze to Nesta. For daring to upset her friend. 

Morrigan then leaned in, the perfect display of the humble, sympathetic ambassador. 

“Immensely.” She whispered, before standing straight up again, heels clicking as they entered the Hewn City. Masks on, the play began. 

She walked as best she could with much larger males pulling her along. She tripped and fell, they kept dragging her as per orders, Cassian let out a low scoff. Only Azriel turned an eye to her, lessening his grip, but turning away when she met his gaze. 

The Hewn City doors flung open with a bang, and she was brought before the throne. 

She hung her head, letting the numbness wash over her as her heartbeat picked up being in front of so many people. She hoped this would be over quickly. 

Nesta hoped she would feel nothing as she was thrown to her knees. 

But she did. It made her eyes snap up, like something in between her ribs had fluttered, had struck the nerve and caused electricity to snap up the side of her body. Quickly her eyes darted around. 

Then they landed on a moving shadow. 

Staring out from amongst the darkness of the corners, a pair of amber eyes gazed down on her. Widened, in the dim lighting, Nesta could make out an open mouth. Dressed in Night Court black, however golden jewellery rather than silver adored his ears and fingers. 

Eris, she thought. The male Azriel had choked for insulting Morrigan. 

Thinking back on that night, a tilt to her lips nearly escaped. 

She stared at him, at him and no one else. And he stared at her. Nothing else registered in her head. 

“After deeming yourself unworthy of serving amongst the Court, you are to stay within the restraints of the Hewn City. The Court of Nightmares will decide your place down here Until your High Lady has deemed you worthy of returning to the land above, you will serve as whatever you are appointed to.”

Nesta barely heard her own sentence, as the taste of ash and heat spread over her skin. A fire that spiked up in her gut. Bruising grips held her frail arms once more and she was being dragged out. 

The jeers suddenly hit her, they stabbed into her skin, into her body, like they were scarring her. It all felt real, like she had been snapped from a dream. As something seemed to tingle in the air, a trail that led back to a pair of flaming amber eyes. 

She managed to move her head as she began to pass the doors. And saw him there, their eyes locked once more, and something sparked, like wood catching alight. 

Nesta smelt smoke. 

Cassian and Azriel dropped her in a room, in a house she did not know.  A part of the cavernous tunnels. It looked like an office, hidden in the cracks of the Hewn City. 

Against her will, water peeked in her vision. She blinked them away as her vision became blurry. Looking up she saw Cassian, baring her fangs, she forced herself to her feet and dusted herself off. 

Cassian opened his mouth like he might try to say something, but ultimately, he just turned to Azriel and said, “Come on, Az, we have important work to do.”

It was to brush her aside. 

Important work, that isn’t you. He meant. 

Azriel nodded once, Cassian went out the door first, fists clenched but saying nothing else as his hulking frame disappeared into the darkness. 

Azriel, his hand caught the threshold, he sucked in a breath and looked over his shoulder, “You…

Nesta folded her arms neatly in front of her, as she tilted her head and watched him. 

“You could have just agreed.” He hissed, before leaving, slamming the door shut behind him. 

Nesta stared at the oak door, the hinges, the handle. She looked around. It was a large office. With a few chairs before a desk at the far side, walls lined with books of old, many of which were most likely older than her father. Possibly older than Rhysand. 

Would have been older than her father, she clarified in her own mind. 

She hummed. Taking in a breath, then another, then another shaking one. 

Nesta swallowed hard, she patted herself down. Trying to find something, anything, a distraction of any kind at all. 

The Archeron sister turned and saw a mirror. It was large and oval shaped, with a golden edging, real gold, pure and likely mined from before Rhysand was High lord. But Nesta did not focus on that. 

She stared at herself, at her dirty image. At the tattered cloak she wore, the thinness of her frame, the deep dark circles under her eyes, the oily slightly matted hair. And the points of her ears. 

She looked like back when they were in that cottage. Back in that weak body, back in those dirty clothes, back in that place that made sleeping, breathing, eating, thinking harder than it ever needed to be. 

Tears welled in her eyes. 

She became someone after that, when they were sent money, when they were given back their life originally taken from their father’s poor decisions. People knew her name, she was going to travel. She was going to finally see what a woman with money and a good name could do in this world. 

Now look at her, she lost everything again, and then some. 

Nesta shook. Tremors rippled through her body as tears on end poured from her eyes. She hugged herself as she fell hung over herself, falling to her knees. She cried and cried, putting a hand over her mouth as her wails became too loud to not be heard by outsiders. She sucked in harsh, short breaths that hurt her lungs and throat. A headache pounded, she felt herself go so weak. 

Everything was taken from her, stripped and destroyed. Her body was violated, broken, twisted and assaulted. Forced into something else. Tongue, teeth, eyes, all shredded, until there was nothing left to take. 

Those nights in taverns, out in clubs, it was high that reminded her of living. Reminded her body it was no longer destroyed, just different. 

But it embarrassed them. 

Nesta hugged herself tighter as her eyes squeezed closed, unable to stop herself from falling apart on the floor. 

The door creaked as it swung open. 

Netsa flung herself back, scrambling to stand, scrubbing her face with her hands, she tried to hide her face. But then her eyes caught onto the intruder. 

Amber. It bore into her. 

Eris stood there, face caught in an array of emotions. The shock of seeing her catching him completely off guard. 

He blinked multiple times, quickly closing his mouth, and bowing his head, “Lady Nesta.”

[achaoticalien]

This was such an unhinged response and I love it

[achaoticalien]

You were drowning in fire. Burning in the inferno you were forced under, learning to live for the flame. Letting it coarse over your skin until you felt nothing but the pain, the heat. It’s intensity washing through you until you were the embers themselves.  But embers die, and flames burn out. And you were left colder than before.

Nesta Archeron-

After months had passed since the Wars conclusion, the sight of bodies decaying under the armies trampling foot. Nesta is left with the scraps of her life. In a world that views her as other, surrounded by people who pick at every seam until she comes undone.

Sentenced to a life at the mercy of the Hewn City. She resigns to a life of rotting. After the chance of a human life spent travelling slips through her fingertips.

Until Eris Vanserra she spots in the crowd of people who watch her sentence. And something falls into place as they lock eyes.

Eris Vanserra-

With little options and even littler time. Eris is grasping at straws to secure his spot on the throne. With lying bastards abounding, and shadows whispering in every dark crevice and corner, he quickly strikes deals with the Night Court, trying to scramble for an alliance with the rest of Prythian under his father's nose.

Weighing down under the stress, and knowing the deadline is drawing near, Eris is remaining smooth and composed as he can.

Until he sees Nesta dragged to her knees before the throne of the Night Court. Sentenced to remain under the Mountain of Night. Electricity sparks, as they lock eyes.

The story of Nesta and Eris Vanserra, how they wove their way through politics, lies and magic alike.

This is a Tumblr Story, each chapter will be linked to this masterpost as they are uploaded.

Chapter One- Eris Vanserra

Chapter Two- Nesta Archeron

Chapter Three- Eris Vanserra

[achaoticalien]

A Court of Deceit and Decay

Chapter 1- Eris Vanserra

Seeing her there was as terrifying as he could have hoped for it to be. Nerves already alight with energy, he buzzed as amber eyes tracked the room and fell upon her. 

Of course, the City of the Night Court, hidden under its Mountain all turned to the approaching High Lord and High Lady. Seating themselves at the thrones carved from the mountain. Feyre’s silk rags slid over her exposed thighs and breasts, the thin fabric fluttering at the slightest breeze. Rhysand’s eyes slid smoothly over the gathered. Eris stood close to the edge of the thrones, watching from the darkness with the other gathered Lords. An observer from the shadows. Not to make his appearance as of yet. 

He had a meeting with Rhysand once all formalities were said and done. Some business he had to care for, the Night Lord had stated flippantly in his letter. That he didn’t care whether Eris witnessed or not. 

By that tone it could not be a revealing of some secret weakness, and for that Eris was already considerably bored. 

Then, the doors of the throne room were thrown open. The two Illyrian dogs Rhysand kept at his disposal dragging some poor soot through, in a black coat and dirty hair. Head tipped down so he could not see their face. 

Practically dragged across the floor, they were brought before the throne. Dropped to their knees. They fell easily. 

Then her gaze slid up. 

Eris choked on flame that rose in response to the silver that danced before him. 

Like the flames of Hell had opened between them, Eris felt fire hotter than he could ever imagine it to be. 

She did not look at the Rulers sneering at her, rather she turned her eyes to him. The molten fire in them, the silver that burned and swirled like a vast sea. His knees went weak, but he kept his upright stature. 

Nesta Archeron. The name rang true, and Eris felt his feet like weights holding him to the floor. 

She turned her head back to Rhysand and Feyre. Face utterly blank. 

“Nesta Archeron.” Rhysand started, voice relatively emotionless, aside from the slight uptilt of his lips. Eris recognized the spark in his eyes. Eagerness. 

“After deeming yourself unworthy of serving amongst the Court, you are to stay within the restraints of the Hewn City. The Court of Nightmares will decide your place down here Until your High Lady has deemed you worthy of returning to the land above, you will serve as whatever you are appointed to.”

Flames licked behind his teeth, burning the tip of his tongue as his jaw hung open. Eyes blinking, Eris stared at Nesta as she was grabbed by Cassian and Azriel once more and dragged from before the throne, her fate decided. A load of jeers and insults were fired by younger Faeries in the audience, entertained by a member of the Court that breathed the air outside the mildew of the Hewn City being dragged to their level. 

Nesta did not show an ounce of emotion as she was pulled out of that room. 

Only as she was brought through the great doors once more, she cast a look over her shoulder. 

Their eyes met once more, and the air tasted electric. Eris swallowed hard, adjusting his collar and smoothing over his face. It was for just a moment, but something clicked between them. Like a well-worn thread snapping in two. 

She looked away and the doors slammed close. 

“Dance!” Feyre ordered, and the room fell quickly into mingling, pairing off as music flitted in through the hall. 

Eris still stared at where he had seen her. 

Electricity sparking on his tongue.