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lexluvswriting · 5 months

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ꔫ L'autunno.

☆ Ch: 2 [last page] [next page]

-> Pairing: Eris x ballet dancer!fem!reader.

-> (CW): x fem!reader (she/her), slow-burn, rivals to lovers, tinkle of angst on occasion, fluff, non-specified identity Summer Court!reader, regarding canon ACOTAR time: after defeat of Hybern. Dual p.o.v!!

-> (TW): Eris Vanserra, slightly softer today, Lucien cameo!! Beron Vanserra is still a c-

W/C: 2.8k (what a coincidence)

╰┈➤ Lex's note: I hope this chapter was a bit more reader and Eris focused!! i wanted to add some backstory to Eris -even tho there isnt much to go off- (slightly ooc as i am embellishing a lil, teehee!) ALSO: I did a dual p.o.v!! Thought it might be cute! pls lmk how we feel abt it!!

A gentle breeze swept back the Lady of the Autumn Court’s hair as she sat out on her balcony. The moon dangled in the sky, and a small ball of auburn hair shifted in the lap of the Lady- two golden eyes blinking through baby tears up at the female who watched the moon with an expression Lucien had seen before, but could never name. There was angry yelling in the distance, deep within the manor as glass shattered and feet stomped around.

“Why does he always do that, mamma?” A little voice called out. The Lady sighed in response, lips parting to bestow more motherly reassurance when another voice answered.

“Because he’s a horrible man, Lucien.” Eris, stone faced despite his youth, stalked towards his mother and younger brother as he entered the balcony clearing.

Eris Vanserra was many things. A big brother. A good dancer, a cheater at all the games, a little fox. And he certainly wasn’t an idiot.

“Did he write to you again? Is that why he’s angry?” Silence hung on the end of his question, sliding off the words like a droplet of dew as the Lady extended her other arm, and ushered Eris closer. Both boys held their mother, who looked up at the sky with weary eyes.

But they weren’t weary- they were tired, but not exhausted. Sad but not miserable. It was like she was holding onto-

“I hoped to negotiate with your father about letting Lucien see… him. But it didn’t… work out well.” Her voice was hushed, like the whisper of a willow that swayed by the lake near the manor.

There it was. Hope.

“Why bother? You know he’ll only hit you. Why do you let him? Why can’t he- why can’t-” Anger bubbled up in Eris the same way it did in his father, and that only made the boy more angry as he pulled away, kicking a loose rock over the edge of the balcony.

“Why can’t he help you? And take you away from this?”

“But where will you go, Eri?” Lucien’s sleepy voice cooed, the little one rubbing at his eyes with chubby fists. Eris glared at his younger brother- as if he was foolish for not understanding.

“I would stay back with father- to make sure he…” The words constricted in his throat. The Lady of Autumn hugged Eris again, tears welling up in both pairs of eyes.

“I know. I know. You are so brave, Eris. My sweet little fox, the boy who would string up the world for me.” Her words were always flowery and poetic- they always made the tips of his ears go bright red, but tonight he allowed them to find their mark as he hugged his mother tightly while her kisses littered the side of his head. Little Lucien, who squirmed when he realised he was missing out on the affections, stood up on wobbly feet as he grabbed his mother’s hand.

“Mamma, if I hang the moon on a sting, will you kiss me too?”

--- ⋆⁺₊✧˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆ ---

Your brows were furrowed in concentration as you planted your foot firmly on the ground, counting in before sucking in a breath as you went up on pointe, earning a grunt of approval from Gustav, who simply let the music play as you began to run through the steps of the solo.

“Wrong- immediately. Your transition from the pas de deux should be seamless- as if he wasn’t even there. They are focusing on you- You are the one with the power- you are the one with eyes following. They will be watching your every movement.”

Every word that left his mouth made you scowl harder, and your pirouettes became faster and faster, until you were a blur. A ‘thwack’ startled you, a stinging sensation against your thigh made you flinch and fall to the ground.

“Gus!”

“Wrong! All of it- wrong! What is wrong with you? Where is my jewel? Bring her back, instead of this monstrous thing. Money is on the line- my studio is on the line- prestige and fame for you is on. The. Line! Get it together. Again!” The orchestral backing seemed to rewind and restart, and your eyes glowered at the ballet master who simply inspected his nails, elbow leaning on his ‘discipline stick’, a thin, long piece of wood that ‘thwacked’ against the limbs of any sorry dancer who ‘lacked discipline’. You had been very familiar with it- an arch nemesis from youth, yet you let out a huff, which Gustav mocked, though you rolled your shoulders and resumed first position.

You danced- your arms swinging around as your legs carried you across the wooden floor. You saw glimpses of your reflection- and you weren’t at all displeased with what you saw. Strong, dedicated, pretty- Primrose would croon these at you prepared before a session, and they had found a mark in your heart as you paraded yourself around. You tried to push all the worries out of your mind for the moment, honouring the music that played by worshipping it with the graceful movements of your body, twirling and leaping- not like a dancer, but like a leaf on the wind. Like a stalk in the long grass. Like the pretty ember in a lantern.

Your heart raced in your chest, beating wildly despite the organised chaos of the accompaniment you danced to. All you had to do was dance- the rest would sort itself out, right? All you had to do was keep your head down, do your pretty dance, do it correctly and get the royal family of the Autumn court off your back. Then you could go back to being a normal dancer at a normal studio and pray that you weren’t swept up in the exodus that seemed to be occupying most of the Autumn Court. The shrill song of a violin pulled you out of the sea of thoughts just in time for you to complete a grand jeté before the coda started. As the steps got more complex- and dangerous, if you didn’t land them properly, you didn’t notice a bug eyed Gustav who had looked above to see a certain lordling glowering down at you- his russet irises blazing with an unreadable, but probably shrewd emotion as his eyes tracked your every movement while you danced.

You were having the time of your life- your blood always ran when you had to perform the more complicated sequences. Plié, pas de basque, pas de bourrée, glissade, a wondrous grand jeté- high enough for you to touch the ceiling if you really wanted to- land into another plié, and then, your favourite- the fouettes. You could get lost in these if you really wanted to, and perhaps you would, with the way you caught yourself smiling slightly in your reflection. Gustav hadn’t protested, or warned you not to go crazy, so you did the usual routine, body charging up to spin and spin and spin. A crescendo of the music made you stop spinning, and you saved yourself by doing a more ‘modern’ move as you tumbled across the floor, only to end up on your feet again, hands poised perfectly in the air in your finishing pose as the music slowly ceased. You laughed a little, amused at your ballet master’s silence before you noticed him staring at something, bug eyed and pale skinned. You realised he hadn’t looked at you at all, and your gaze followed, head tilting up until you noticed your voyeur, and froze momentarily.

What to do? Hiss? Swear? Burp really loudly and slouch? Throw something? A hiss from Gustav to ‘bow!’ made you slowly turn your head to look at him with blatant disgust, before your eyes slid back up to Eris, rolling them as your lip curled out and you let out a soft, delicate “Ugh.”

You heard something that sounded like a snarl and a squeak from Gus behind you, but you waved a hand, declaring airly, “I’m taking five!”

--- ⋆⁺₊✧˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆ ---

Eris’ face was the last thing you saw in your mind as you went to the studio’s small cafe to purchase a well-earned treat. It’s certainly handsome. Well- Grumpy, miserable-looking, arrogant, snobbish and so so so many other wonderful adjectives. But you had to give him credit… He was… pretty.

The croissant you purchased was steaming hot, so you tossed it in its brown paper bag between both hands, fingertips suitably warmed against the cool autumn weather. You walked along the hallway, your eyes focused on the large, golden gilded framed portraits of various dancers who had also traisped about the hallway you ambled through, croissant in hand as you appreciated each stroke of paint which captured their serious, serene expressions. You stopped in front of a painting to take a bite out of your warm treat- the clerk claimed it was filled with raspberry coulis, but you figured she was lying after the first bite, where you had bitten into nothing but fluffy, buttery goodness. The second bite was as uneventful as the first, but it was the third that made you jolt, as a hot, raspberry-ness flooded your mouth, your hand cupping under the treat a few seconds too late, before you heard a ‘splat!’, peeking down and swearing softly as raspberry hit the marbled floor.

“Oh… bloody… fuck.” You hissed, glaring at the dark pink splat, before stomping back to get tissues, kneeling down at your mess and sighing irritatedly- that would have been the perfect bite if the filling didn’t try to jump down your throat.

“Charming.” A voice replied, and you noticed the tips of brown, shiny leather shoes near your knees, making your eyes narrow. Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Eris Vanserra peered down at you, his grating voice a drawl as you slowly craned your head to peer up at him with an unamused glare, to which his lips quirked to the side in a crooked smirk.

“I hope you won’t be this uncouth when you perform for my family.” You immediately stopped kneeling, lest to give him any more of an inflated ego than he already has, and glowered.

“I don’t really care what you nor your family think of me.”

“Charming, indeed.” He hummed, russet eyes filled with a smug gleam, the light seeming to dance in his irises the more you glowered and frowned at him. You both stared at each other, you more hostile in your gaze than he, before you turned away to distance yourself and ignore him, only for his grating voice to sound off again, your ears catching his reply a little too attentively for your liking.

“You’ll have to accompany me to the Equinox ball even after you dance, by the way. It is custom- and honourable for someone like… yourself.” His eyes slowly scanned your face, meeting your eyes before they found something else on you to hone in on.

Oh, brilliant. Here we go.

“Someone like myself?” You repeated, raising an eyebrow as irritation made itself known even more than before.

“Of course. Independent, apprehensive, different. I’m surprised you can even bear to be in those impossible costumes and tutus. It’s like putting a bonnet on a bear.” His smile- mocking, unserious, condescending, was all you could focus on- your ears twitching at his tone of voice.

‘Apprehensive? Different! I’ll show him apprehensive-’

“Hah! ‘Different’?” You kissed your teeth, nodding before standing in front of his face, raising your coulis filled croissant and taking an aggressive bite, letting a small, thick glob of raspberry splatter onto his shiny, pretty shoes. Eris let out a small grunt as he stepped back, glaring down at his shoes for a long time, before his gaze lifted up to you, only to see your back as you had stormed off promptly, croissant in hand.

“You have something on your face, by the way!” His voice called out, in what you could only figure was mockingly. A hand raised up to the corner of your mouth, and you swore under your breath, yet you doubled down.

“And you’ve got something on your shoes!”

--- ⋆⁺₊✧˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆ ---

Eris blinked at the dancer down below, his eyes wide with awe. From the first time he had seen her at the start of the week, she managed to become more and more brilliant over time- as if each day that he didn’t see her, she became more talented and beautiful. [Y/N] was your name. [Y/N] [L/N].

He had seen you when you debuted for one of your more high-achieving roles- had taken his mother privately for a viewing of one of the ballets that had played in the amphitheatre when just after Amarantha had been destroyed- a celebration of freedom. Your rendition of Swan Lake, and your variation of the white and black swan had brought the Lady of Autumn to tears- how could a small thing like you capture the understanding of being trapped, of isolation and grief so beautifully? For a long time he had wondered about you- even at balls, where he waltzed around with other nameless women that could never compare to your poise and discipline- your fluidity and grace. Did you like to waltz? Were you shy and reserved? Angelic and sweet? Or were you alluring and confident? Seductive and playful?

Neither, he had decided when you looked up at him with your evident disdain, and your uncaring sneer. You were a third, greater thing. And you were absolutely magnificent. He realised there and then that he had to speak with you, even if just for a brief moment- he needed to feel the brunt of your fire firsthand. So when he had spied you walking through the halls so prettily, each step poised and perfect even off-duty, it made him feel strange. He just had to be close to you.

“Charming.” He mused, though he had paused when he realised he had spoken out loud. He wanted to correct himself, but your gaze knocked the air out of him, and he panicked- opting for his signature smirk to disguise his awkwardness.

‘Whatever is going on, snap out of it.’ He thought harshly, before blinking as he realised he had been staring- so he spoke again.

“I hope you won’t be this uncouth when you perform for my family.” His voice was smooth, cool and collected like it usually was, and he was amused by your glower. Were you this angry all the time? It was oddly endearing, in a strange, funny way. Cauldron, your gaze was unforgiving. He wondered how many stupid males had been on the end of it.

“I don’t really care what you nor your family think of me.” His ears twitched slightly at that tone, and something stirred within him, making him want to smile. Oh, you were really funny when you were upset.

“Charming, indeed.” He nodded, a smile growing on his face as he admired you, enjoying the banter you two seemed to share.

“You’ll have to accompany me to the Equinox ball even after you dance, by the way. It is custom- and honourable for someone like… yourself.” His eyes slowly scanned your face, and he hoped he didn’t sound too excited when he mentioned it. He’d get to waltz with you, and show off his skills, and hope that you’d be as impressed with him as he was with you. He was too excited indeed, though he was curious with the way your irritation grew.

“Someone like myself?” You repeated, and he wanted to laugh. You were so silly!

“Of course. Independent, apprehensive, different. I’m surprised you can even bear to be in those impossible costumes and tutus. It’s like putting a bonnet on a bear.” He joked, enjoying himself greatly as he caught your attention and held onto it as long as he did. You were quite apprehensive, yes. Very grouchy and unagreeable, but still certainly pretty. He was proud of his ‘bears in bonnets’ joke too- that usually worked wonders with anyone he mentioned it to.

So why were you still looking at him like that? And did you know about the smear of raspberry under your lower lip? He wanted to tell you, or wipe it off at least when you spoke again.

“Hah! ‘Different’?” You made a noise that he recognised as irritation, and Eris watched you shift your stance, as if you were aiming to lob the pastry you had been eating at him. Had he misspoke? He watched you move closer to him, his eyes on your mouth as you raised the croissant and bit into it messily, letting a small, thick glob of raspberry splatter onto his shoes.

How inconvenient.

Eris let out a small grunt as he stepped back, blinking dumbly at his shoes for a long time, before his gaze lifted up to you, only to see your back as you had stormed off promptly.

“You have something on your face, by the way!” His voice called out in a weak attempt to be helpful.

“And you’ve got something on your shoes!”

Hah! She was certainly... spirited. That was no way to treat a Vanserra. She wouldn't last a minute in front of his father. Eris chuckled as he glanced down at his shoes again, clicking his tongue.

He'd simply have to come back and see you again.

╰┈➤ Lex's note 2: AHHHH it's done!! almost 3k AGAIN lmfao. i hope the dual p.o.v was good & made sense!!! if not, lmk and i'll stick solely to reader p.o.v only!! tysm everyone for the love this is getting! ch 3: 29/04 Week!! 🥹🫶🏼

#lexluvswriting: l'autunno #eris vanserra x reader #acotar #eris x reader #eris acotar #a court of thorns and roses #eris vanserra #eris fic #eris vanserra the idiot you are #lex luvs eris vanserra #eris x you #eris x y/n #x female reader #x fem!reader #acotar x fem!reader

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