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thepenultimateword · 1 month

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Love Thy Enemy Part 6

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five

For all Callista's talk of winning Vorrin over, it was surprising that she returned to ignoring his existence. Pins and Switch even informed him that his designated visit to her chambers had been canceled for the week. Usually, Vorrin would've been thrilled, but considering the circumstances... How was he supposed to gain the empress's trust if they didn't see each other?

"Is she busy again?" Vorrin asked as he took a bite of strawberry scone. He kept his tone bland and stared with what he hoped looked like disinterest at the wall.

"I hear she's taking a trip to the border cities," Pins mumbled, sewing needle held between his lips as he turned the half-finished embroidery in his hands. "Probably takes a lot of prep work."

Vorrin had felt rather guilty about his outburst the other day, and remembering Switch's comment about waste, he'd asked the manservants if it was possible to repair the torn shirt. The short answer was no. Nothing could get the shirt exactly back to its original state. The longer answer, with more cloth and designs to hide the stitches, the outfit could be salvaged. So here the pair were, with more work thrust upon them, though Vorrin couldn't say he wasn't grateful for the company.

Vorrin set down the scone, turning full attention to the manservant. "The border cities? Why?"

"I only caught pieces from the soldiers while fetching your dinner the other night, but I think an emissary from Avarose is meeting her there."

"An emissary?"

"She has been out of the country for almost a year now. Maybe she needs an update from Prince Suthand on the state of the kingdom?"

"An update can be sent in a letter."

"You know more about politics than us," Switch said, stacking up some of the empty breakfast plates. "Why do you think she's going?"

Vorrin pondered it a moment. Callista was calculated, and she knew her hold on Totholan was tentative. She wouldn't leave the capital unless she thought it was absolutely necessary.

Perhaps she wanted to check on the strength of the border troops. But she could outsource that to a general couldn't she?" And then there was the emissary. That would be political. But why would she need a representative from her own kingdom? And why didn't they meet her here instead of the other way around?

"I don't understand anything she does," Vorrin said finally, picking back up his scone. He only managed to nibble it a little further before asking, "When will she return?"

Switch raised a brow. "You're certainly eager to see the empress again."

"I wouldn't say eager. Simply...interested."

"Well, she hasn't left yet," Pins said. "She might still come to say goodbye."

As if Vorrin was worried about not receiving a proper farewell. He was her consort, not her lover. He forced a smile anyway. "Maybe."

Pins smiled brightly back and turned the finished tunic around for him to see. "How's this?"

A spattering of golden stars and a large sun now hid the repaired tear. They glimmered against the white fabric like the celestial bodies they were imitating.

"It’s beautiful,” Vorrin said, “it’s a wonder you were hired as a manservant rather than a tailor’s apprentice.”

Pins flushed appreciatively and lowered his eyes to the ground. “I used to do the repairs to the servants' uniforms, back before I was officially hired. My mum said I had a gift. But…apprenticeships don’t pay in money, just room and board, and my family couldn’t really live on one income so…” His face fell a bit, but as he lifted his head again, it abruptly brightened. “When I was offered this position, it paid twice the amount as a regular manservant, and I still get to do sewing, so better off for me, I say.”

Vorrin fought the frown dragging down the corners of his mouth. He knew what it was like to come from humble beginnings. Living day to day on whatever scraps he could get. Going hungry. Survival topping every other thought or desire. The main reason he'd joined the King's army as a boy was for the pay. Squires received a gold piece every month, and the stipend only grew the longer he stayed alive. Not to mention the free board in the barracks. As he’d risen in the ranks, he’d created a comfortable place for himself. Luckily, or maybe unluckily, he hadn't had any family to rely on him, so he’d only had to worry about himself. He could only imagine the pressure of supporting a family at such a young age.

“Is your mother in Totholan?”

“No, she stayed back home. But I send her half my earnings whenever any of the soldiers travel back to Avarose with the Empress's letters.”

“Which they skim,” Switch muttered.

“It’s fine,” Pins said, forcing one of his bright smiles, “I just think of it as a delivery fee.”

This time Vorrin did frown. “That is not fine. They recieve their own wages, they don’t need any of yours.” He doubted it was something Empress Callista would allow either. “I’ll speak to the Empress about it.”

Switch audibly choked.

Pins shot to his feet. “Oh, no! You don’t have to— It’s much too small a matter to bring so high as the Empress.”

Yes, Vorrin understood it was unconventional. King Duras would have imprisoned a servant for wasting his time with such a request, that is if he even allowed it to reach the level of audience, and with the state of the kingdom, Empress Callista probably would brush it off too, but…

“If she cares about me, she’ll care about you,” Vorrin said firmly.

“I don’t want her to think I’m complaining or gossiping about the soldiers. Especially not to you."

"Because you don't want to be blamed for my poisonous attitude toward all things Avarosian?"

Pins pressed his lips together, his lack of denial an admittance all its own.

“If it bothers you, I won’t tell her it’s you.”

"I...well..." Pins slowly folded the tunic over his arm and moved gingerly across the room to tuck it away in the wardrobe. "I guess its ok. If it comes up that is. And as long as it doesn't inconvenience her. If she seems put out, tell her to forget it. And don't make it seem too urgent." He cleared his throat and plucked out a new outfit, lithely changing the topic. "How about this?"

It was another set of robes, this one a couple layers, the bottom a silky vibrant gold and the top a poofed, gauzy white that muted the underlying fabric, almost like looking through fogged glass. Glimmering gold strings hung loosed off the sleeves, ready to hold each one in perfectly puffed sections."

Vorrin grimaced. Where did the empress even get all these clothes from? Had she sent for them as soon as she’d taken him hostage or had she planned for this ending in advance? From what he'd seen Pins and Switch wear, robes were not uncommon for Avarosian men, but the fancy ones in his wardrobe were on another level. Either high-class styles were different, or the empress had some tastes. Maybe a bit of both.

"Well, I was hoping to attend the training grounds today," Vorrin said. "That is if there is a soldier to escort me today."

One of the things he and the empress had agreed upon in their last conversation was that Vorrin should have more freedoms. The training grounds to practice his sparring and more visits into the city were at the top of his requests. Surprisingly, both had been granted, on the condition that he was watched at all times.

"Oh!" Pins put the garment set back and sifted around the wardrobe for something else. "Then this?"

The new outfit was two pieces, a bottom and a top, so that was at least closer to Vorrin's regular style.

The top was a black compressed shirt with the sleeves cut off mid-shoulder and silver-threaded embroidery stretching from the shirt's high throat to the middle of the chest, giving the appearance of a layered necklace. The bottoms...were a skirt. Blue. Long. Plain except for the embroidered hem in matching silver.

"Er...I can't exercise in that," Vorrin said. It was the more diplomatic reply.

"This is a sparring outfit," Pins said. "An expensive one, but still equipped for actual sparring."

"I don't see how I'm supposed to fight in that." Vorrin stepped closer and flicked the hem of the skirt. "It's too long. And constricting. I'm not going to be able to move without tripping, ripping it, or showing everyone everything."

"It's not a skirt if that's what you're worried about," Switch said, setting the stacked dishes on the breakfast tray. The young man was as sharp as ever. He marched up the proffered outfit and grabbed the hem by one side, pulling it up to show the wide trouser legs beneath. "The overskirt is for show. It's split so it doesn't get in the way. Think of it as robes for fighting. Most of the military has switched to more obvious trousers, but most generals still wear this style. I don't know if you've noticed."

Vorrin couldn't say that he had. He didn't really pay attention to what his opponents were wearing in battle, and since becoming Empress Callista's consort, he'd been mostly confined. He assumed he'd seen mostly low-level soldiers since then, but it was also possible he'd missed it, either being in too much of an angry fog to notice or assuming they were robes like any other.

"The outfit's fine," Vorrin said crisply.

"Good!" Pins said. "Then let's get you ready!"

"I'll send for a soldier to escort you," Switch said. A shadow of a grimace crossed his face, but just as quickly it was gone. Replaced by his usual straight expression. "It might take a little while, so I should go now."

"We can go together," Pins offered.

"No, no." Switch drew himself up proudly. "I'm fully capable of finding someone. And it will be more efficient this way."

With a short bow toward Vorrin, he was out the door.

Pins had Vorrin dressed within a half hour. The bottoms were much more comfortable than he'd expected. His hair had taken on a simple style today, tied up into a tail. However, Pins still managed to make the simplicity elegant by using a silver hair ring instead of a regular hair tie.

The bedroom door burst open. Switch stormed in red-faced and hair-mussed, slender hands barely catching the door before its handle could hit the wall.

"I found someone," he said, easing the door shut before sitting hard in one of the dining sets.

"What happened?" Vorrin and Pins said together.

"Nothing. Like I said. It just takes a while to find soldiers who aren't busy."

"Switch, you're shaking," Vorrin said, his voice falling into the firm tone of his old station.

Switch looked down at his trembling hands with a surprised expression.

Switch clenched them. "I'm not scared or anything. I'm just mad."

"What happened?" Vorrin pressed again, this time summoning the authority Switch responded to.

"It's just soldiers being soldiers," the manservant spat. "Being crass and difficult and idiotic as usual. I swear, this is why I dropped out of the military. They're all so stupid. But of course, they can't let it go. I'm a traitor because I didn't fight in the war and even more so because I serve a Totholi consort." Switch's tone grew sharp and sarcastic. "Apparently, it's very unpatriotic of me to be at the beck and call of a Totholi general. Oh, and I think I'm better than them because of my cushy safe job and better pay and face-to-face meetings with the Empress."

At that last part, Switch let out a little gasp and pinned his lips tightly shut.

Another time, Vorrin would have seized that slip-up. He knew that Empress Callista was getting information on his behavior from someone. His manservants had been the most likely suspects, and this confirmed it. However, this was not the time.

"I didn't know you were military," Vorrin said instead.

"Was." Switch looked steadily at the ground a couple feet ahead, clenching his fists harder so the knuckles turned white. Vorrin knew that look. He kept dry anger at the forefront of his emotions, but he was probably fighting off tears. "I only squired for a year. I hate soldiers."

"Is that why you sometimes have a hard time with me?"

Switch flushed a little and a long pause stretched over the room. "Maybe. I don't know. I guess sometimes I see the resemblance. But you're not like them. I know that. Even if you are aggravating." He cleared his throat abruptly. "Sorry."

"Did the oh-so-proper and strict Switch make a joke?" Vorrin said with a mock gasp.

Switch rolled his eyes, but a small smile crept up his face. "Don't tell anyone."

"They're just being jerks because they're jealous," Pins piped in.

Vorrin nodded. "As a once stupid soldier, I have to agree. For men like them, there is a pecking order, and they're worried you're on top. And they hate that, so they're trying to convince you that you're not."

"But I don't want to be a part of their stupid pecking order at all," Switch said.

“Then you need to find the biggest instigator and give them a good punch in the nose.”

“You are a soldier.”

Vorrin shrugged. “It’ll at least show them you’re not going to take their rubbish.”

“But it’s so unrefined…”

“And they are? They’re a bunch of insecure bottom feeders with too much space in their skulls. I’m telling you, the only thing people like that respect is brute force.”

“I’m really beginning to doubt your strategic ability as Totholan’s best general.”

Vorrin chuckled. “Well, I can always punch one for you. I doubt they’re allowed to hit me back.”

Switch let out a long sigh, though it wasn’t entirely exasperated. He scrubbed his tearless face. "I’ll think about it. Pretty sure letting the royal consort get into fights isn’t a much better look. Anyway, the escort is waiting outside when you're ready."

Vorrin stood, stretching his arms over his head. “Time for me to go then. Guess I better show this little guppy who’s really in charge. ”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t worry, Switch. I know how to handle grunts.”

“Seriously don’t.”

Vorrin only grinned, flexing one of his bare arms before sweeping out the door.

As he stepped out into the hall, the soldier leaning against the outside wall stood up straight. He was about what Vorrin had expected: young, a little below average height, and built just enough to have real muscle but still feel uncomfortable in his own skin. Vorrin could see the inexperience in his shifting posture.

“Good morning, Royal Consort,” the soldier said offering a short bow. Obviously, his feelings on a Totholi consort were much different when face-to-face with him. “My name is Raoden. I’ll be escorting you.”

“Yeah, I’m not remembering that,” Vorrin said, stepping past the man without a second glance and starting toward the training ground. “How about I call you Button?”

“Well, er…”

“Perfect. Come on."

The soldier scrambled after him, needing to use his full stride to keep pace at Vorrin's side. As they reached the end of the hall, he angled toward the right, the direction to the main entrance of the arena.

Vorrin turned left.

"Um, I think the training grounds are--"

"I know how to get there," Vorrin said.

He strode the full length of the hall, turning left and then left again. He barely glanced at the other soldiers and servants they passed along the way, only stopping when he reached a worn, narrow door the same grey as the stone around it.

"Royal Consort--"

Vorrin was already pushing inside.

"Hello, boys!"

The whole room scrambled to their feet. A couple of men fell off their beds. One hit his head on the bunk above him as he rushed to stand.

“So this is where you all go to slack off.”

One of the soldiers without his shirt or shoes squirmed. “We’re off duty, your…Royal Consort…sir.”

“Of course. Don't mind me.” He mosied down the aisle, looking idly around with each step, gaze skimming past the soldiers enough that they dropped their heads to avoid eye contact. “I just wanted a look at my old quarters before Button here escorts me to the armory. Well, close enough. These were the squire quarters. You're all full-fledged soldiers, aren't you?"

"Er...most of us," Button interceded from behind. When Vorrin glanced back at him, the man stood by the entrance, looking desperate to lead Vorrin back out. "Military rankings work differently in Avarose. Um...should we perhaps..."

"Really? That's interesting." Vorrin sat himself down on one of the now-empty bunks. He crossed his ankle over his knee and leaned back on one hand. "How is it done in Avarose?"

Button looked around the room, but no one else spoke up. "Royal Consort Vorrin, I really think..."

Vorrin raised his brows. "Yes?"

"Uh...well, in Totholan there are three titled ranks, right? Page, squire, and knight? Though of course some knights can reach the higher rank of Knight General or the highest rank, like yourself, Grand Master."

Vorrin shook his head. "King Duras was the Grand Master. I'm just a general."

Button blinked and glanced toward his comrades and back. "Respectfully, sir...that wasn't what we were told in our briefing. That's why the Empress specifically--" He abruptly cut off and cleared his throat. "My point was Totholi military is more simplistic."

One of the soldiers snickered but stopped before Vorrin could identify who it was.

"Whereas Avarosian military is sort of...complicated."

Vorrin leaned his chin into his hand. "Oh?"

"There are ranks within ranks. Sort of like your knights, but with much more variety." He lifted one end of the wide scarlet sash wrapped around his middle. Looking at the colors may help. The lowest rank is yellow. Children in training wear the palest shade and it deepens as they move up. Green is the next rank, usually utilized as messengers or apprentices to higher-ranked soldiers. Blue is reserved for military medics. Red is for ordained soldiers, again the palest shades are always reserved for those with the least experience. Generals wear black. The sovereign wears white. But only on the battlefield.

Vorrin closed his eyes a moment, tentatively summoning a memory. He could still picture that day perfectly. Empress Callista standing over him, half of her hair escaped from its braid, the long tails of her "white" sash whipping in the wind. In reality, it had only been white in small patches; the majority of it was dyed red with blood. The point of her blade pressed carefully into his throat. He'd swallowed. She'd grinned.

Vorrin's eyes shot back open. He pushed himself back to his feet, shoving the memory's emotions deep down and instead surveying the soldiers once again.

"It seems every one of you carries a red sash. I'm surprised."

"Sir?"

"It took thirty minutes for my manservant to acquire one of you. You do realize that a request from my servants is a request from me?"

Button bowed his head. "Yes, Royal Consort."

"Tell me, how long did you spend arguing, drawing straws, and over me instead of doing your duty."

Button sank so far between his shoulders he resembled a turtle. "Too long, Royal Consort."

A part of Vorrin wanted to punish them further for Switch's sake. But Button had admitted his fault without excuse. Vorrin had to give the man credit for that. Many of the men looked equally chastened. No need to press further when a reprimand was being received.

"I suggest being a little quicker next time," he finished.

"Yes, Royal--"

"You're not in charge of us, Tolothi," another soldier interrupted. The man was all wiry muscle and unruly hair. Vorrin noted that his sash was vermillion whereas many of the other's were crimson.

Vorrin stalked up to the man, gazing down at him from under half-lowered lids. "Am I not?"

"You're a pet."

"Argin," one of the crimson soldiers hissed warningly.

"A dog may be pampered and protected," Argin continued, meeting Vorrin's eyes. " but that doesn't make it less a dog. And a dog holds no authority no matter who it belongs to."

Vorrin only smiled. "You sleep in a bunk bed. I sleep beside the Empress. Maybe I am a dog, but between the two of us, I wonder who has more authority. I suppose if you're really concerned I could ask the Empress what she thinks."

Argin paled a fraction and clenched his teeth hard enough to crack. He ducked away from Vorrin's gaze. "Aren't you supposed to be practicing sparring or something?"

"You're right. Thank you, Kitty."

The man flushed equal parts embarrassment and anger.

"Come along, Raoden."

Button looked a little shocked at the usage of his real name, but he quickly fell in step, following Vorrin through the door at the back of the room into another room of bunks, this one empty. The Knights' old quarters. They passed rows and rows of beds before exiting another door into the armory.

Unlike the barracks, this room had been completely reorganized. Probably so it could hold all the weapons that the Avarosian army had brought with them.

Vorrin ran his hand down the row of spears lined along the wall. "Any limits on which weapons I'm allowed to use?"

"I don't think Empress Callista established a rule." Button looked around the room nervously. "Maybe nothing too sharp?"

Vorrin tsked. "Do you have so little faith in yourself that I need a handicap?"

"When it comes to you, sir, yes."

"Really? You don't think you could stop me if I was armed? A little concerned for the person who is supposed to keep me from escaping.

Button swallowed. "I don't know, sir. But I know it took the Empress to defeat you, and I couldn't win against the Empress." He gathered himself taller. "However, Royal Consort, I don't think you plan on running. Even if I fell, there are at least a hundred guards between here and the end of the palace grounds. They would catch you immediately."

Button's tone begged Vorrin not to try anything. He almost seemed to be trying to convince himself as much as Vorrin. He was right though. Vorrin suspected that having a watch was more about preventing him from stealing weapons than stopping an escape attempt.

"I'll stick with the quarterstaff then," Vorrin said, plucking the long wooden pole off the wall. "I only want to practice some movements today anyway."

Button nodded, relieved, and they exited the armory into the training grounds. A light breeze wafted the smell of the dusty earth, and the musty hay of the training dummies to his nose. Vorrin closed his eyes, breathing in the familiar scents. It had been a long time.

The quarterstaff felt a little strange in his hands. Though his hands instinctively gripped the right places, the weapon no longer fit the same against his too-smooth palms.

Vorrin spun the staff a couple times before trying a stab. He stumbled a little and gritted his teeth. He'd overextended.

His immediate reaction was a surge of rage, but he exhaled the emotion slowly. This is fine. Just go back to the basics.

He fell into a defensive stance. Block, parry, stab. Block, parry, stab. He moved slowly, perfecting each movement as he went. After about four times, he picked up speed, throwing in a few dodging movements and thrusting out the pole in low and high attacks.

Button yawned from the sidelines.

Vorrin half-wanted to ask the guard to spar with him, but he doubted that was allowed. Maybe he should asked for two guards next time, one to spar with and another to watch him. Better yet, maybe he could begin bargaining for the release of his soldiers. Not at all at once, but one or two at a time. He missed their familiar company. Not to mention, he’d need them if this uprising was going to work.

Having enough of the repetitive movements, Vorrin imagined an invisible enemy before him. He’d done this all the time as a boy when the other pages refused to be his sparring partner. Having Captain Kenric for a mentor had remedied that, but he’d still found solace in solo sparring once in a while.

He lowered into a defensive stance, holding the quarterstaff diagonal from his body. He circled slowly, searching for weak spots, knowing his enemy was doing the same. Abruptly, he thrust the staff forward. The enemy dodged, swinging back at him violently. He barely stepped back in time, throwing the staff sideways to block the blow. He gritted his teeth and widened his stance further against the imaginary weight. He shoved forward hard, knocking the figment backward. He stalked forward, raising his elbows in preparation for the finishing jab. He thrust the weapon forward, and...

A very visible, very real sword collided with the end of his staff.

Vorrin inhaled sharply, retreating back a couple steps and instinctively throwing out his quarterstaff in front of him. It took a couple moments for him to make sense of the red-and-gold-clad figure in front of him.

Empress Callista glanced at the weapon then casually back to his face with a widening grin. She slid her sword back into its sheath. “Hello, dear."

Vorrin exhaled slowly, doing his best to hide the tension ebbing from his muscles. He'd felt like a hair-trigger ready to fire. "What are you doing here?"

"What, I can't visit my consort? you weren't in your quarters; I was told I could find you here." Her eyes roved back to the weapon. "It's been a while since I've seen you in action. Serious as ever I see."

Vorrin furrowed his brow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Some people spar for fun, you know. But you have that same look you have in battle. Fighting isn't a game to you, is it?"

Where did she get off acting like she knew anything about him?

"I spar for fun," he said a little sharper than intended. "But there's nothing fun about swinging a stick around by yourself. Besides, if I'm going to regain all my skills, I can't afford to be lax."

Empress Callista let out a little amused breath. "Well then, we'll need to spar together sometime."

Vorrin's face warmed. "I wasn't implying that I wanted--"

"I like the outfit," she interrupted. "Very classic."

“Well, it was in my wardrobe.”

Empress Callista gasped in mock offense. “Are you suggesting that I gave you those clothes just because I wanted to see them on you?”

“Is that not true?”

“Well, maybe.” She winked, her smile landing somewhere firmly between flirtatious and wicked. However, the sly curve quickly straightened into a more serious expression. “I didn’t know what you looked like until the first time we faced each other in battle. I had no idea what would suit you, so we brought lots.”

“You didn’t think we had clothes here?” Vorrin said.

“Dressing you in our styles was intentional."

"And now?"

"It still is. But your comfort is also important, so we'll find a compromise."

Vorrin let the butt of the quarterstaff rest against the ground. He leaned into it like a walking stick. "Dressing me like an Avarosian isn't going to win over the people. They're just going to be mad that I'm betraying our culture."

"Maybe. But it does show them who you belong to." Her gaze darkened. "And it's not just for your people. Mine need reminders too."

Vorrin's insides went cold. Empress Callista was so confident, so domineering in every action and word, he'd never considered that her people might have as many disagreements with this plan as he did. He was safe...wasn't he?"

"Anyway, darling," she said, shattering the frozen feeling encasing him, "as much as I love our little tiffs, I came to wish you farewell. I'm heading to the border this afternoon."

Vorrin remembered what Pins had said about the Empress saying goodbye. He sincerely hoped that neither manservant had shared his interest in her departure. "You don't need to do that. My servants would have told me."

"Ah. Of course." She cleared her throat and gathered herself up a little straighter. "It's a two-week trip--5 days to the border and another 5 back. I would have felt strange saying nothing at all."

Vorrin didn't quite know how to respond, so he stayed silent.

The empress cleared her throat again. Wait a minute. Did she actually feel awkward right now?

“Is there anything you need before I go?” she said

"I need your soldiers to stop terrorizing my manservants."

The empress's forehead furrowed. Not confusion, or doubt. More...disciplinary. The look of a parent when they're told their child has been caught teaching curse words.

"Explain."

"Pins gets his wages partially stolen whenever he sends money back home to his mother. And Switch gets harassed when he makes requests on my behalf. It has to do with serving a Totholi, which, I would like to remind them, is literally his job."

Empress Callista raised her brows. "Switch and Pins?"

"That's what I call them."

She didn't push it further.

Vorrin continued on. "They're in positions of power and servants to the Empire. They're abusing those positions for personal gain. If it were my men they'd be cleaning everyone's armor for the next week. Or be working directly with me until they wised up."

Vorrin caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Perhaps his voice had risen too loud because Button shifted uncomfortably from his post at the arena's edge. His eyes flicked their way, briefly connecting with Vorrin's. The young man's shoulders leaped a little, and he hastily averted his gaze to the empty space ahead of him.

The young man had been properly chastened earlier, but Vorrin wanted him to bring this information back to the others.

"They can't be allowed to act this way, can they?" he said, letting his anger raise his voice even louder.

"No," the empress said firmly. "Their behavior is unacceptable. Unfortunately, I don't have control of every action the people in my employ make. However, I will be alerting my generals and captains of the issue. They should provide some correction. Let me know if it continues."

Vorrin nodded. Despite the many things that bothered him about the empress, the one thing he could count on was that she was fair. King Duras had allowed, even encouraged, a toxic dynamic in his army. One where power and physical strength reigned as dictators. It had taken a long while for Vorrin to clean up once he became Knight General, so he couldn't help but appreciate the empress's standards.

She tipped her head to catch his gaze. "I assure you, Vorrin. The trust I have in my army is critical to me. I allow error, and I allow redemption, but those I deem untrustworthy have no place with me.

"I know. Thank you." The words came out before Vorrin knew what he was saying. To his surprise, he actually meant them.

"Anyway," he said, diverting the attention from his last words. "Why are you going to the border?"

Empress Callista smiled thinly. "There's confidential information I don't want to be written in a letter. At least not one that passes many hands. Not only that, but I'm going to be surveying the area for construction."

"Construction?"

"For the new capital. With the kingdoms merging, I can't stay here. Avarose would be outraged. But I can't return as if nothing happened either, or I risk losing my foothold. We need a neutralized city equally distant between both locations."

"Idosa won't be the capital anymore?" Vorrin didn't know why he hadn't thought about that sooner. Technically, Idosa had ceased being the capital the moment Empress Callista won the war. Yet, everything remained so much the same, the castle, the stationing of the guard, the mannerisms of the city... He'd never imagined this type of reform.

"Don't act so sullen. This will be a massive change for all of us. Streles has been the Avarosian capital for centuries. I'm anticipating a heated argument with every noble and advisor I have over the next few months."

"And me?"

It wasn't a very articulate question, but the empress seemed to understand.

"You'll come with me, of course. Not only to the new capital but to Avarose as well. The new city will take time to build, so we may travel back and forth for some time."

"I could stay here." That was something consorts did, right? Have their own homes? At least, King Duras had gifted his mistresses residences within and without the city. Then again, many of them were not official consorts. Still, it wasn't as if Callista needed him outside Idosa. If she gave him this place, he could fix it. It wouldn't be exactly as it was, but it could be close.

Even as he tried to convince himself of nobler intentions, the truth gnawed at him. He was scared. Outside of battle and expeditions for the King, he'd never lived anywhere else. He'd grown up here. He'd become something here.

Empress Callista shook her head, a little sympathy peeking through her steady expression. "You're my token. A representation of our countries' union. You'll always be with me."

Always?

Vorrin's lungs suddenly felt tight. Like he'd been shoved into a space--a cage--too tight for his body.

The empress's hands found his face, stroking his cheekbones with her thumbs. "It's alright, love. I will take care of you."

As if that was what worried him. Like he was a child who needed consoling about moving away from his friends. As if this was just about him and not everyone in Idosa--no Tothalan! And him a helpless bird with clipped wings.

No. No, don't think about that.

He released a shuddering breath.

He could stop this. None of this had to happen if he completed his mission. Calm. Calm. He just had to endure a while.

Vorrin stepped back out of her reach and looked down at her gold-button travel boots.

"Good luck, on your journey."

Empress Callista's hands dropped to her side, but she stepped forward, regaining the ground between them. "If you need anything, if you have any trouble, send for me. I'll return."

"Ah, so you expect trouble," Vorrin joked, not quite able to summon the humor into his smile.

She gently took his chin, raising his face to her eyes before withdrawing again. Her eyes appeared almost molten in the sunlight.

"I will be back before you know it."

Vorrin wasn't sure if that was meant as a comfort or a warning, maybe both. It made him feel strange.

He took two long steps back this time, properly distancing himself.

"Well, goodbye then. Bring me back something nice." With that, he turned his back on her, striding back to Button. "I'd like to go back to my room now."

Vorrin allowed the soldier to lead him through the proper exit this time. As they left, he felt the empress's eyes following him.

He did not look back.

Taglist:

@whatiswhump, @aprilraine, @ilovescarletwitch, @conniedensazation, @feedthebirds, @bloodinkandashes

#love thy enemy #creative writing #empress x general #empress x soldier #royalty #royal x soldier #writing series #fiction #writblr #writeblr #enemies to lovers #slowburn #writing #thepenultimateword #chapter #orginal characters #orginal story

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clockwork-ashes · 15 days

Text

Day 2 - Childhood | Legacy

Note: for day two of @erisweekofficial <3 just a content warning before this one, because there are mentions of past abuse as well as descriptions of it near the end. thank you for reading!!!

Summary: Beron sees Eris as heir to his throne, but the Lady of Autumn sees him as her little boy (one-shot). Read also on Ao3 <3

The Lady of Autumn threw herself forward, emerald skirts gripped so tightly between her fingers that the already pale knuckles of her hands had turned bone white. She crashed into the thick carved doors of the dining room, her shoulder pushing roughly against the aged wood. It was not locked, but it was heavy without the guards there to help her.

The torches flared as she shoved the doors open with all her strength, already out of breath from having run through the near empty corridors. “Eris,” she called, the one word a strangled yell ripped from her throat.

“Callista?” Her husband’s voice was steady, and she came to a sudden stop as he turned to face her.

Beron Vanserra was lovely, unforgivingly handsome in his shirtsleeves. His hair fell in loose chestnut coloured curls against his neck, kissing the dark fabric of his collar. His brows were furrowed, his full lips pulled into a familiar frown. He was not wearing a crown.

She spared him a moment’s glance before her russet eyes fell to the child she had been searching for. Callista was ever so close, and yet much too far from her son. She swallowed, choking on her own unease. There was a scarlet mark on his smooth cheek, but there were no tear tracks cutting a path across his face.

Eris stood in front of his father, looking unafraid, his features betraying none of his emotions.

Callista fought her instincts, every muscle tense with the effort it took to stop herself from running to him. She had never considered whether or not she had wanted to be a mother. When her parents had arranged a meeting with the High Lord, it had all seemed like a fantasy. She had married young, and had never given much thought to the matter despite knowing becoming pregnant was a possibility.

Children were rare.

Precious.

Even silently thinking about such a fact was not enough to stop her from crying when her first and only baby had been born. She had not felt like she was ready, and had hardly been reassured when all her husband could talk about was finally having an heir to the throne.

Eris had been an awful newborn. He had constantly been crying, and Callista had been unable to listen to any of the midwives and servants who had told her to leave him in his crib until he stopped. Taking him into her arms had only seemed to make the crying worse, and she had been unable to understand what he had needed from her. Motherhood had seemed like a never ending nightmare.

Beron had taken to sleeping in a different room entirely, and Callista had not wanted to leave Eris with anyone if she could not be present as well. She had already been feeling as though control over her life was slipping away like sand in an hourglass, and she was determined to be good to the helpless creature she was to be responsible for.

When her parents had returned from their short trip to Xian, Callista had begged her own mother for help, having exhausted all other options.

If your little lion cannot sleep, place your hand gently on his chest and whisper his name three times. Works like a charm.

Even Callista had to catch herself from rolling her eyes, biting back hurtful words coming from a place of frustration. Her mother’s beliefs were usually different from her own, and she was hardly familiar with whatever tale the older female had been referring to.

Much to Callista’s surprise, her mother’s advice had worked. The gesture had effectively calmed Eris down and would even relax him as a toddler. His happiness had been enough to settle her into her new role, pleased that he had been all smiles.

Beron’s voice dragged Callista out of her own memories, snapping her back to the present. She could hardly remember the last time Eris had smiled, too serious for less than a decade old. She turned her attention to her husband as he lazily waved a hand, heavy golden rings flashing as he repeated himself.

“Tell your mother why the tutor was upset.” Although the High Lord’s voice was soft, there was no doubt his statement was a command, one that Eris would not be allowed to refuse.

Eris looked to the stone floors, tugging uncomfortably on the hem of his jacket. “I’m not very good at hunting,” he admitted.

Beron clicked his tongue as Callista inched closer. Her steps were silent as she kept a careful watch on her husband. “Tell your mother the truth.”

“I didn’t want to hunt the pack of deer we were tracking and keep the antlers as a trophy,” Eris said, his voice steady, angry resolve in his tone. “The tutor told me that the lives of animals held little value…” He paused, glancing at his father, waiting to see if he should continue. At Beron’s subtle nod, Eris clenched his hands into fists. “So I told the tutor that his life was of no value to me.”

Callista breathed in sharply, the words harsh coming from a boy so small. She would have responded, would have reminded Eris to keep certain things to himself, but the backhanded blow Beron offered as punishment stunned her into shocked silence.

Not again.

The thought rang in her mind like the toll of a bell. Beron could be kind, if he wished. Callista had seen as much, had noticed how soft he could be with her and with Eris, but when he was angry she could barely recognize the male.

“You need to learn to watch your mouth,” Beron snarled. His punishments were too rough, and their child was too young, and she did not know how to put some of his lessons to an end. She rushed forward at the sound of the second smack, pulled into action at the quiet whimper Eris made in pain.

Callista grabbed onto the High Lord’s hand, putting her own body between him and their child. Her skirts did a poor job of shielding Eris, dragging limply along the floors and covering the toes of Beron’s boots.

“My love,” she breathed softly, the endearment falling smoothly from her lips but feeling like shards of glass on her tongue. “My love, I think that’s enough.”

Anger flashed in his dark eyes, embers coming to life in his heavy gaze. Callista watched as a muscle twitched on his clenched jaw. He left his one hand gripping hers, but she tensed as she felt his long fingers on her waist. Beron moved her slowly to the side. “Eris is a strong boy,” he insisted, “I’m sure he can take it.”

Beron gestured for Eris to come closer, and Callista kept her tight hold on his hand. She was certain her nails were digging into his skin, that they would leave a mark. There was a trail of blood on the corner of her little boy’s mouth, a drop falling from his chin onto the stone floors. It fell in the shape of a rose petal, she thought absently.

Eris winced as Beron lifted his hand, only for her husband to run gentle fingers through their son’s scarlet curls. “Isn’t that right, Eris?”

Eris relaxed into the soft touch, humming in agreement. His shoulder bumped into his father’s leg, but Callista stayed in her spot at Beron’s side. Everything seemed right in the world once again, but the blood cutting across her child’s face was a stark reminder of reality.

Beron pulled his hand from the tight grip she still had on him, running his palm up to her wrist. She could not help but notice the smattering of blood on his knuckles. At the sound of his voice, she shook her head to look up at him. “I have a meeting with advisors about farmlands in the east.”

Callista nodded, relief washing over her like gentle rain as she watched his retreating back. As soon as the doors shut behind the High Lord, she was on her knees, desperate hands pulling Eris close.

“Are you alright?” She asked, holding him in a way she realised was perhaps painful. “Where does it hurt?” Callista wiped at the blood on him with the sleeve of her dress, glad to see that the cut was already healing.

“No where,” Eris mumbled, already eager to move away. His cheeks turned red in embarrassment at having someone fuss over him.

He went to look down, but Callista brushed back his hair, gazing into his bright amber eyes – lion’s eyes, her family from Xian had declared. They always seemed so sad, uncontrollable flames in their golden depths, like he knew he was carrying the weight of a crown he had never asked for.

“Can I give you a hug?” She asked softly, still unsure of herself when it came to being a mother.

Eris looked at her, scrunching his small nose adorably. He nodded and Callista held him close, clenched her eyes shut as he fell like a puzzle piece into the crook of her neck. She forgot for a moment that he was heir to the Autumn Court, seeing him completely and wholeheartedly as her little boy.

#erisweek2024 #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #eris vanserra #beron vanserra #the lady of autumn #thank you for reading <3 #and sorry for a second day of angst!!!#light the fire bright #ashes writes sometimes

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ushsblog · 2 months

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Why Calista Has Such a Good Relationship with Cedric: An Analysis and Headcanons on Calista's Family Dynamics.

I’ve been thinking about why Calista likes Cedric so much and I’ve come to some interesting conclusions. I’ll break it down into points to explain my ideas.

(Long post)

1. How the world perceives Cedric.

For this, I think it’s very important to consider the interactions between Cordelia and Cedric before resolving the incident. It seems that despite their animosity, they have reached a truce for Calista’s sake.

Of course, they still have their conflicts, and Calista knows this because neither of them tries too hard to hide it. In reality, I think they do try, but both have short tempers that lead them to end up arguing.

In this scene, I like to believe that Cedric is afraid to say "No" to Cordelia because he tries to maintain the little peace they have created. Cordelia, although condescendingly, treats Cedric somewhat better in this episode.

If you notice, their arguments become more accusatory when they are alone. Like the scene before Calista and Sofia arrive with the mirror in "Through the Looking Back Glass"

In front of Calista, Cordelia limits herself to dismissing Cedric with small comments. For example: "Don’t be embarrassed to admit you forgot the spell" or "Don’t bother, we have delicate things and we don’t want... anything to happen to them" (Well, she doesn’t say exactly that, but that’s the vibe).

Anyway, these comments certainly have an impact that Calista does not overlook. She is aware that her mother sees Cedric as incompetent, as a failure.

I wouldn’t be surprised if, visiting her grandparents, Calista also heard similar comments from Goodwyn. Because he doesn’t seem to mind dismissing his son in public either: "Cedric the so-so" (Goodwyn about Cedric in Mystic Meadows in front of Sofia).

That’s why I like to believe that Calista says: "Any friend of my uncle Ceddy is the bestest best friend of mine."

Because, in reality, there are few people she knows who have a good image of Cedric. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if Sofia (besides Winnifred ) was the first person Calista knows who gets along well with her uncle.

Now, where does this lead us? Well...

2. The pressure that Cordelia inadvertently puts on Calista.

With this point, I’m not trying to say that Cordelia is a bad mother who pressures Calista to be perfect. No, at least not exactly.

In fact, I think Cordelia is a good mother. She cares about Calista and knows her perfectly. I like the next scene because it shows a bit of what I’m saying.

Despite being in a hurry, Cordelia doesn’t scold or yell at Calista. She gets down to her level to talk and make her understand that she can’t take her agenda without permission, and she kindly asks her to return it.

Of course, like any person, Cordelia has flaws as a mother. One of them is that often, unintentionally, she generates pressure on Calista not to fail. Let me explain.

By saying it’s unintentional, I mean that Calista, seeing how her mother treats Cedric for being a poor sorcerer and making mistakes, might get the idea that if she make mistakes, she would be treated the same way by her mother. Even if it really wouldn’t be like that.

Certainly, Cordelia asks her to behave, but she doesn’t scold her directly as she does with Cedric, because her issue with him is completely different. But, at least before looking in the mirror, Callista didn't know that.

3. Calista’s internalization of the fear of disappointing others.

That said, I believe that if Calista really thinks that if she fails like Cedric, she will be treated the same way by her family, it explains a bit of her anxiety to get along and prove herself in front of the witches in "Too Cute to Spook."

Now, although I said that what Cordelia does by generating this expectation for Calista is inadvertent, the next scene really catches my attention.

I always wondered why, at that particular part of the song, Cordelia caresses Calista in such a way. To me, it seems a bit like a kind of warning for Calista.

It’s probably not intentional, as I said, but I find it curious.

Anyway, continuing with this point...

It’s not very well explained in the series how complicated the spells that Calista does are, but it seems to me that for a child, she can do an incredible amount of things. She can make herself float, create illusions, create objects out of nothing, and, more interestingly, she can undo spells from a more experienced sorcerer (Cedric).

I say this because of that scene in "Gone with the Wand" where Calista frees Cedric from the nets he created for Morgana and ended up trapping him. I doubt that Cedric, wanting to trap Morgana, would have cast an easy spell to break.

What I mean is: Calista is a prodigy. At least, she seems to be.

Surely Cordelia must feel very proud of her, as must her grandparents, knowing how much Goodwyn cares about the magical ability of his descendants. So, wouldn’t that feed the fear of disappointing them?

This phrase, although it can be understood in the context of that episode, gives us a glimpse of how Calista perceives herself.

And, Who can understand that feeling better than anyone? Her dear Uncle Ceddy.

4. The relationship between Calista and Cedric: why Calista loves him so much.

Cedric loves Calista, that’s not in doubt. He listens to her, comforts her, and makes her understand that certain things are wrong in a compassionate way and not through scolding or mistreatment. His first instinct when they are in danger is to protect her (and Sofia), which undoubtedly shows Calista how much he cares for her.

If Calista feels that fear of disappointing others, Cedric could be the only person Calista sees who won’t abandon her if she turns out to be a failure instead of a prodigy.

If, in some way, Calista feels pressured by her mother’s expectations or the people around her, she finds a safe place in Cedric because she knows he won’t judge her, he won’t demand perfection from her.

Calista can be totally herself with him, I'm not saying she isn't with Cordelia, but if she's taking care not to have any flaws...

In the same way, that idea could fuel the empathy she feels for her uncle. She feels bad that Cordelia is hard on him because, even on a very different level, she understands what it feels like.

I should also add that Calista has a good image of Cedric; she has seen him perform spells perfectly. She believes Cedric is a great sorcerer, but if that great sorcerer is not enough in the eyes of his family, What fate awaits her?

Well, that’s basically all I have to say. Thank you for reading, and as always, I’d be happy to hear any comments!

#cedric the sorcerer #calista sofia the first #character analysis #headcanons #sofia the fandom #sofia the first

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pagesfromthevoid · 2 years

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Cowboy Like Me | d.d. | 2

Din Djarin x princess!reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: mild cursing, mentions of being killed

Author’s Note: Ah yes the second chapter literally no one asked for (that’s not true, technically two people did regardless). They’re gonna get longer soon…just you wait. And mildly smuttier 👀

Series Masterlist | Talk to Me!

The Hunter

The following morning, she bought a one way pass to Alderaan.

There wasn’t really a reason to stay on Nevarro anyway, since she was merely there in passing. But it frustrated her to no end that her mother was so willing to hire a bounty hunter within days. Leave it to Calista of Senex to just know her daughter wasn’t taken against her will —to simply know she left on her own accord.

Perhaps her mother should have taken that as a sign that her daughter wouldn’t have wanted to go through with the wedding. A sign that this whole thing was a bad idea. But then, Callista was not someone who thought of others' wants and needs. Not unless they better served her.

The carrier to Alderaan didn’t leave for several hours, however, and she was stuck in Nevarro —stuck with a Mandalorian —until then. As long as she laid low, and didn’t get herself In trouble, she would be fine. And she hadn’t found any trouble in the time that she had been away from Senex —how hard could it be?

*****

As it turns out, the answer was very hard.

It was very hard to stay out of trouble.

It was as if every time she turned a corner, there he was, searching the crowd for her. And every time, she turned on her heel to walk the other way. Maybe he knew she was there. Maybe this was part of his thing —playing cat and mouse with his quarry before he just snatched her up.

She wasn’t going to be caught by him. She wasn’t going back. He’d have to kill her before she let him truck her back to Senex, back down that aisle. Maker help her, her mother would have to hire him to stand guard at the wedding so she didn’t run again. Because she wasn’t going back.

Slipping down an alleyway, she ducked behind a vendor stall and pretended to peruse the fruits available. She didn’t have much longer before her carrier was set to leave, all she needed to do was get around him and to the station. Then she’d have a bit of a head start on him.

“Hey! You gotta pay for that!”

She dropped the fruit in her hand, confused because she wasn’t stealing. She was just looking! But when she looked up, he wasn’t even looking at her. He was looking at the floor of the stall. Unable to help herself, she stepped closer and followed the vendor’s gaze.

Babbling, holding the fruit to its little mouth, was the most unusual —but possibly the cutest —child she had ever seen. It didn’t seem overly concerned about being scolded by the vendor, though as he reached down to snatch the fruit, she quickly stepped between the two.

“Here,” she offered, holding out some credits with a polite smile. “Let me pay for his snack.”

The vendor gave her a wary look, but didn’t care enough to argue as he snatched the money from her and walked off. She turned to look down at the child now, then kneeled down in front of him.

“Stealing is wrong, you know,” she softly scolded, but she had a smile on her face. “You’re lucky I was here. Now where are your parents?”

The child finished his fruit, cooing excitedly as he reached his hands up. She looked around a moment, seeing if there was anyone else nearby. No frantic mothers or fathers seemingly were searching for the child, and she couldn’t very well leave him there. It just went against everything in her, to leave a child alone like this. So, probably against her better judgment, she took the little one in her arms and lifted him up and rested him on her hip.

“You seem like a trouble maker, little one,” she commented, earning a happy little babble in response.

As she stepped out of the stall and looked around the crowds, the vendor pushed her out of the doorway and slammed it behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and huffed in frustration, shaking her head. When she turned back around, she caught the eye —or well, visor —of the man hunting her down.

“Shit.”

*****

Mando had stopped looking for the girl about an hour after getting off the ship. He didn’t exactly intend to stop —however, the kid decided that he wanted to be a problem and when Mando turned around, Grogu was not in his crib. And now Mando was searching Nervarro for his kid, not his quarry.

Honestly, if he focused hard enough, he could probably find both her and the kid without any issues. But Grogu was still a target for Gideon, and he couldn’t focus on anything besides finding his son. He had to. The quarry could wait —he had a month. His kid didn’t.

But after an hour and half, he was getting antsy. The kid wasn’t anywhere to be found, and he had been searching every inch of the market with no luck. That little monster had made him question everything he was good at in such a short amount of time, if only by being nothing but trouble. It would be the death of him.

Mando pushed out of another stall, stopping for a moment to scan the crowd once more. As the people slowly started to thin out, move out of the way, he caught a glimpse of green across the market —high off the ground. For a second, Mando almost panicked but the child was giggling happily, and the woman holding him was speaking to him as Grogu turned back to the crowd; to Mando. And she followed the gaze, only to tense up immediately.

She stared directly at him, eyes wide as Grogu reached up to touch her face. But her lips moved —and while Mando wasn’t great at reading lips, he knew when someone was cursing. And she was cursing, frozen in place as they locked eyes. The kid turned to follow her gaze, now reaching out to him with those grabby little hands he always did when Mando was too far away.

Her brow furrowed as she looked down at the child, who was pushing himself from her arms and finding himself on the ground again.

“Wait, no, no,” she called after him, reaching out. And whatever fear that had made her freeze in front of Mando was gone as she chased after his child. “You can’t run off by yourself! You almost got flogged for stealing!”

Mando stalked forward now, eyes on her and her only as she scooped up the kid in her arms again. Grogu whined, reaching out to him as she slowly came to a stop in front of the bounty hunter. His helmet tilted down, just slightly, looking down at the child as Grogu reached out to him.

“I…,” but she trailed off, slowly letting the child transfer from her arms to Mando’s. “I paid for his snack.”

Through his visor, he glanced up at her, finally noting the color of her eyes. They were warm, tear rimmed as she knew she had been caught. The sight tugged at his heartstrings, but he knew better. This was a job; she was a quarry. Didn’t matter how upset she was; how close to tears she may be. But he couldn’t look away from her.

“He was stealing from the vendor. I…I didn’t want him to get in trouble,” she explained further, keeping her eyes on the child in his arms. “I assume he’s trouble.”

“He is.”

Finally, her eyes snapped up to look into his helmet. Most people settled on his forehead, or even his chin. But she caught his eye without even trying, just staring up at him with tears in her eyes.

“How much are they paying you to bring me home?”

“More than you have.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Thirty-five.”

She let out a huff, shaking her head. “I have twenty.”

Mando almost took it. He almost took what she had, let her go. He didn’t know why they wanted her back. It wasn’t in his job to ask questions like that. But the way she stared up at him —eyes watery with unshed tears, trembling as she reached up to run her thumb over the baby’s cheek. It pulled at something even deeper in him that he didn’t like.

“Would twenty be enough to just…kill me, instead?”

He thanked the stars for his helmet, because her request threw him off entirely. He’d never had a quarry ask to be killed. The kid in his arms whined again but Mando squeezed him gently to quiet him down.

“No. You’re to be returned alive.”

She nodded solemnly, as if she had accepted her fate. “I can’t outrun you, can I?”

“You can try. But it won’t last very long.”

She considered his answer before nodding once.

“If I go willingly, are you going to put me in carbonite?”

He hesitated a moment, though to her it was just him staring at her in silence. For a second, he considered his options. Maybe he wouldn’t give up his bounty, but she seemed aware enough of the consequences if she fought back.

“No. I won’t.”

His tone was stern; threatening without actually saying it. He could give her a little more breathing room before being returned to Senex and whatever waited there. But for the trip there, he would be nice.

Just this once.

Because she was nice to the kid.

———

Taglist: OPEN

#din dijarin x reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin #the mandalorian #mandalorian x reader #mando x reader

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immcrtalsx · 1 year

Text

“Hey Cal,” Mariza walked into the room the other was in with two glasses of water in her hands, “I brought you some water,” she said, placing one glass on a table in front of her. She sat down in an empty space and drank some of her own. She didn’t need it but was doing it so they were doing something together, “How are you feeling?”

@callistaa

#nktclosed #starter #(( i cannot do it alone || starter ))#(( what did you bury? || mariza tanner ))#(( just... keep talking || interactions ))#(( interactions || callista albrecht ))#(( interactions || mariza tanner & callista albrecht ))

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milkywayes · 9 months

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dreamt a cipher

a shepard/garrus post-destroy ending longfic.

[AO3 link]

I’ve debated a while about when to start posting this. Now it’s the new year, and I’ve been working on Cipher for over a year and a half, and I’ve waited long enough to start sharing it with you all. I’ve decided it’s finally time to start uploading while I work on the final chapters.

I started writing this before I ever drew a single piece of fanart for Mass Effect. It’s all the things that were bouncing around in my head after choosing the destroy ending with a mostly-paragon Shepard—consequence and responsibility and self-recrimination; her relationship with Garrus and with herself; their ties to each other and how much weight they can bear; their differing perspectives and how they slot together—all that fun stuff—compressed into a story, a place, a narrative.

I believe in the power of love, and I promise a happy ending. They’ve just been taking the long way to get there. Feel free to yell at me in the meantime.

A huge thank you to @callista-curations for her meticulous and invaluable beta work, and to @that-wildwolf and @gammaraydeath for being the best hypemen I could ask for!

A more detailed list of warnings can be found on AO3.

I've posted the full cover art here.

────

Summary:

Pairing: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian Rating: M (subject to change) Important Tags: post-destroy ending - angst with a happy ending - slow burn (of sorts) - arguing - reconciliation - survivor guilt - minor original characters Her own personal Noverian peak. That’s what it was supposed to be. Nothing but the discovery: no distractions, no comfort, no windows looking out—no familiar faces. But it's starting to look like her winning streak might have ended in that pile of Citadel rubble, if it ever extended that far to begin with. ──── “How does the Earth idiom go? No use beating a dead—” A long-suffering sigh. “What was it again?” “A dead horse. And yet, you’re here. Beating it.” Pot, kettle. She wishes he’d just fucking say it.

-> AO3.

Read the start of Chapter 1: Constant Velocity under the cut!

────

The overhead lights flicker as they always do when the data screens are up and running. It’s not something one gets used to, even so. It stings at her ocular nerves—or something like that, anyway, somewhere along the delicate wires that extend from her eyeballs into her brain—but her focus on the data doesn’t waver.

“In that case,” says Shepard, squinting against the ache, “what we need is salvage from a relay outside the immediate burst zone. Four jumps away. Five, if possible. There’s no point to any of this if we can’t scrape together a control group.”

She glances back at Elsawy, who so far hasn’t made it more than a meter into the room. She nods without looking up from her omni-tool; orange shimmers off her shiny, black hair, giving her the uncomfortable air of a Cerberus operative. Not the worst comparison, except that Miranda would waste no time letting her know if her logic took a faulty turn somewhere. Elsawy’s just as likely to agree now and write a message detailing all her crap conclusions later.

Leaning her hip against the conference table, Shepard shifts her weight off her left leg, bites down on the sigh that almost manages to slip out. Once in the clear, she grouses, “Where the hell is Meyer? He’s the one that called this meeting.”

As it is, it’s three people in attendance and she’s the only one talking. She could’ve achieved the same results with a voice call from her quarters, where she could elevate her leg in peace and without witnesses. In the dark.

“Lab Two,” answers Elsawy, finally ripping her attention off the omni-screen and gracing Shepard with a second of eye contact. Maybe in another life she could appreciate the effort—Jesus, as if she hasn’t had her fill of lives already. “We’re close to a breakthrough on the initial output patterns. Sorry. He’s been feeding his data to me.”

“Right.” She blinks once, twice, in time with the flickering. It doesn’t help; it never does. “I’ll swing by later, then. Anything else he asked you to relay?”

“Just that, Commander.” Elsawy is mumbling just enough that her voice has to compete with the drone of the air vents. The translator takes a second to filter out and amplify it. The result is less than perfect: “More salvage—” bzzrt—“bigger picture, you got it.” She narrows her eyes, and Shepard raises a brow. “Left leg or—” bzz!—“left hip?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Commander.”

“It’s nothing relevant,” she says pleasantly, forcing herself to stand up straight again. There’s a brief tremor shaking up her hamstrings; she waves a hand to distract from it. In the frenzy of the lights, the movement looks jerky, nervous. She soldiers on. “Old field injury. Unrelated. Anything can set it off.”

Funny, kind of, since it’s that very leg that ends in the most perfect, cooperative example of a foot she’s ever had the pleasure of treading on. It’s cloned; a replacement. Not the only one either. They should’ve just done away with the whole limb, but she hadn’t been consulted. Same with her trick shoulder. Not even Cerberus had managed to get that one back on the straight and narrow.

“I’d rather you bring it up with the doctor,” replies Elsawy. This is, apparently, what it takes for her to finally speak at a reasonable volume. “If we manage to fill even one of the data gaps…”

“I know,” she says. “I know, and I’m telling you, it’s unrelated.”

-> continue reading on AO3

#mass effect fanfiction #shakarian #fanfic #shakarian fic #oh GOD. here it is. I'm BIRTHING this baby like Shepard birthed grunt #I'm so nervous but I am really proud of this story so Take it.#cipher tag

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Chapter 2 Read on AO3 or below || Chapter 1 Lawyer AU where Eris and Nesta used to be rivals before she got married and decided to leave the field. But now she is divorced and determined to return to the legal field, even if it means working with Eris, not against him.

Over the next two months, Nesta completed all the necessary courses, which meant that she could ask for an associate position. But doing so was difficult because catching Eris in the office was far harder than it seemed at first glance. Either his assistant wouldn’t let anyone see him, or he was in court, or there was always something else. In short, she managed to catch him for a conversation only by the end of the week.

"Excellent grades, it’s good to know that your academic abilities are clearly not something that can be lost even after a decade," Eris commented when she finally told him.

"And?" Nesta urged him to continue.

"And you’ll be able to take on new cases," Eris continued, but before she could rejoice, he stopped her with a gesture. "Later. For now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to personally ensure whom I’m giving the senior associate position to, so you’ll close the first few cases with me."

Nesta looked at him as if he had two heads.

"I don’t need your help," she said sternly and coldly. Two months. She had spent two months here, helping only with paperwork, talking to clients, and just acting like a stupid student intern. But now, when she had given him every possible result, Eris had the nerve to think she wasn’t ready?

"But I need yours," he shrugged, completely unaffected by her tone. "One pretty head is good, but two are even better."

"You need my help?" Nesta repeated in disbelief. "I thought you didn’t ask for help."

"Well, you didn’t either until recently," Eris clicked his tongue. "I’m working on the Kallias case. It’s pro bono, but the case is delicate. It would be easier for me to work with someone who’s got a good head on their shoulders and whom I can trust without a doubt."

Nesta stayed silent. The case of the Kallias orphanage children had been in the news for a long time, yet the company involved still denied responsibility and refused to be held accountable.

"Won’t your employees be offended to find out you trust me more than them, who’ve worked here for years?" she asked instead, raising an eyebrow. Eris just scoffed.

"I could give you dozens of compliments about how great a lawyer you are and how much I trust you, but you already know that. Your involvement in this case will help me confirm your restored abilities, restore your name since the case is high-profile, and simply give me an excuse to see your face more often."

Nesta couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his light flirting. Eris smirked, handing her a folder, which she understood contained the details of the case.

"Your homework," he said. "By Tuesday, I expect an assessment of the facts, the legal basis of the case, and a few possible legal strategies we’ll use. Don’t get bored."

"Why not by Monday?" she couldn’t help but ask.

"I thought you spent weekends with your kids," Eris simply replied. "But if you feel like working while little demons run around, be my guest. Just make sure no extra liquids end up on the documents." He grimaced, and Nesta couldn’t help but smirk. Eris never liked other people’s children.

"Everything will be ready by Tuesday," she nodded and took the folder.

"Have a good weekend, Nesta," Eris said as she headed for the door. She threw a quick "You too" and left.

Her weekend wasn’t as free as she would’ve liked, considering Astrid suddenly had a toothache and had to get a filling, and Callista constantly clung to her leg, complaining about how much she missed her during the week. So she only managed to open the case on Sunday evening when the two girls had already fallen asleep, curled up on either side of her.

The lead poisoning of over a hundred children, students of an elementary school near an orphanage, caused by a battery factory that had been built nearby. The factory hadn’t adhered to proper safety measures, leading to many children now suffering from severe illnesses and complications.

Nesta found the necessary contacts of the orphanage staff, whom she planned to speak with on Monday to get their testimonies and the medical reports on the children’s conditions. In addition, she studied the documents Eris had provided. There weren’t many—a couple of public petitions and appeals from outraged local residents, upset after the media had reported the situation, and a few statements from environmental activists investigating the ecological state of the area around the factory.

The rest of the information had been requested but hadn’t been provided yet, so all Nesta could do was search for similar cases from recent years, study the company, and leave everything else for Monday. That was when Callista woke up from the sound of her typing and asked Nesta to just lie down with them, which Nesta couldn’t refuse.

On Monday morning, Cassian arrived to pick up the girls. Nesta greeted him dryly, and he only nodded in response. Callista was too sleepy to notice her parents glaring at each other, and Astrid frowned and grumbled that they were both mean, adjusting her school backpack.

After that, Nesta drove to the office, hoping not to be late and cursing every possible traffic jam on the way. If there was anything she didn’t miss during maternity leave, it was traffic. A dreadful part of life. Awfully unfair and time-wasting.

She rushed into the office at exactly nine o’clock, not a minute late, for which she was grateful. At that moment, Eris stepped out of the second elevator, sipping coffee and clearly in no hurry, noticing her rush to pass through the turnstile.

"Oh no, I was just about to fine you," he said mockingly, smiling.

"Terrible office location," Nesta grumbled.

"But great view, and everything is within walking distance," Eris shrugged. "And maybe I just chose the building closest to my apartment."

"Did they send you the results of the factory’s sanitary inspections?" Nesta changed the subject. Eris just shook his head, sipping his coffee.

"Not yet, but my best senior associate is ready to call them and threaten that if they don’t send them by lunch, we’ll file a lawsuit for violating the right to access information because time is running out," Eris smiled.

"Of course," Nesta muttered, realizing she’d be handling that.

"If you go to interview the experts and orphanage staff today, don’t bother notifying me. Don’t waste time; go as soon as you can."

With those words, Eris left her alone, heading to his office. Nesta spent half the day arguing on the phone with the factory owners’ clearly feigning ignorance lawyer and the other half rushing around the city, talking to several more people.

On Tuesday morning, she and Eris sat in his office, discussing the information she had gathered and how they could use it to get the maximum compensation from the factory.

"One hundred thousand isn’t even money," Nesta frowned when Eris told her that the factory had offered the victims one hundred thousand dollars per child. "How can you value a child’s life at that sum?"

"We can make them cover medical expenses, but Kallias said that wouldn’t be enough," Eris sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Of course, it’s not enough," Nesta nodded in agreement. Perhaps it was her maternal instinct speaking, but if anything had happened to her children, she would’ve gone to any lengths to not only secure compensation but also to make sure all those responsible were imprisoned for life, no matter how much effort and time it took.

"They’re still refusing to give us the documents on sanitary measures, citing that they have the right to submit them by the end of next week."

"The hearing is the day after their deadline, it’s obviously intentional," Nesta sighed. Eris understood this too, which is why they were trying in every way to find loopholes that would pressure the factory into sending the documents earlier. "We can request a postponement of the hearing. It’s impossible to plan a strategy when we don’t even have the basic documents."

"The problem is we requested the documents too late," Eris explained. "I didn’t take this case until Kallias personally asked me to. Before that, they had some government lawyer helping them, who seemed like he learned how to read yesterday, let alone knew the basic procedures."

Nesta chuckled, and Eris exhaled in frustration. They were both nervous about the case. It wasn’t about their careers. Nesta felt that, like her, Eris didn’t want to leave those responsible for so many broken lives unpunished; they wanted to achieve greater compensation and harsher penalties.

"What about the soil analysis?" Nesta asked, thinking that if they couldn’t get the sanitary measures, at least they could receive the results of independent tests immediately.

"They’re still in the queue at the lab," Eris replied. "You remember how slow they are with that."

Nesta scoffed, remembering it all too well. Once, it almost cost her a major case because the lab delayed the test results, and they couldn’t bring them to court on time, forcing her to manage without them. Back then, she handled it, but she had other evidence. Now, everything was different.

The entire week, Nesta spent in Eris’ office. Sometimes they just worked in silence, each shuffling papers or typing, busy with their own tasks, and occasionally one of them would get up to fetch coffee, bringing back two cups. Other times, they discussed the case, the details, the information they found, the articles and laws they could use.

In the evenings, Nesta had been glad to stay in the office longer. At home, a cold and empty apartment awaited her, which came to life only on weekends. She had household chores waiting for her and thoughts about how much she hated her life. The latter was dramatic, sometimes exaggerated, but Nesta was still left alone with her thoughts, and that was dangerous.

Here, though, she wasn’t alone. Eris was here… Well, a couple of months ago, she wouldn’t have called his company pleasant, but he had become more tolerable. Still the same sarcastic jerk at times, but it was clear that he had matured and no longer lashed out at everyone with biting and hurtful remarks.

Instead, they sometimes shared stories from their lives. Nesta talked about the girls, the nightmare of the housing market that led to their mortgage having a hellish interest rate, and how often she now had to visit amusement parks. Eris talked about his company, younger brothers, and his dogs.

"No, you’re lying to me," Nesta exclaimed with clear disbelief, her eyes wide open.

"Simple math, Archeron," Eris rolled his eyes, laughing. "He’s already twenty-three."

"He can’t be twenty-three! I remember him as a little kid at our graduation!" Nesta shook her head as they discussed how old Lucien was now. It couldn’t be that he had grown up so much.

"Sorry, but how long ago was our graduation?" Eris snorted.

"No need to remind me how old we are," Nesta snorted back, causing him to laugh.

"You're anything but old, Nesta. Though with your memory of the law, I’m starting to have doubts about that."

Nesta threw a paper manual at him in response. Eris dodged and chuckled.

The following Saturday, somehow, Eris ended up in her apartment.

Okay, not just magically and out of nowhere. They had agreed to go through all the documents together before he went to negotiations with the factory's lawyers. However, those jerks scheduled the talks for the weekend, citing their busy schedules.

So, that morning, Eris arrived at her apartment, delighting Astrid and Callista with a bag full of all kinds of candy.

"It wouldn’t be polite to show up empty-handed," he explained while Nesta gave him a disapproving look. Her daughters were already ready to fight over the bag if not for the guest's presence.

"You went overboard," Nesta shook her head. "But thank you, anyway."

She looked at the girls expectantly, and Astrid was the first to catch the hint.

"Thank you," she smiled with her toothless grin—she had just recently lost almost all her front teeth.

"Thank you," Callista echoed, using the moment when her sister was distracted to grab the bag and run toward the kitchen.

"Hey!" Astrid shouted after her and ran off in pursuit. The sounds of their scuffle were muffled by the kitchen door closing behind them.

"Well, this is way more interesting than court sessions," Eris said, watching Nesta's daughters with interest.

"It's a constant mess," she said. "Let’s go, we don’t have much time."

After sending the girls to their room and asking them to be quiet, Nesta and Eris sat at the table and began sorting through the documents, arguing about the order in which to use them to achieve the best results. The goal was to bluff the lawyers into thinking they had a lot of evidence against them and that they would win in court anyway, hoping that the factory owners would agree to the demands, understanding that it would save them at least on legal fees.

"Don't you want to go to the negotiations yourself?" Eris asked as Nesta skimmed through the medical report of one of the affected children, a report she had memorized by now.

"I have no one to leave the kids with," she said. "Besides, with your reputation, you’ll scare them more."

"My reputation causes more problems than benefits," Eris grumbled. "They know I’m doing this on a charitable basis, so they think I don’t care and won’t try too hard, which means..."

"They won’t believe your bluff about having all the reports," Nesta finished his thought. "They’ll see through the bluff for the wrong reasons."

"But in your case, they’ll know that as a 'newcomer,' you’ll try to get the maximum compensation. I can find a sitter for your daughters in fifteen minutes. The negotiations won’t take long, maybe two hours tops, before you scare those unsuspecting idiots to death."

"I don’t want to leave the kids with a stranger I’m not sure about."

"If you agree to go, I could personally watch your brats," Eris said in a very serious tone, surprising her greatly. "I’m not a stranger, and it’s not in my interest to harm your kids. I’ll put on some cartoons and make sure they don’t overeat the sweets. Easy."

"Why do you want me to go to the negotiations so badly?" Nesta frowned, still trying to figure out the catch. Eris-I-hate-kids-they’re-all-awful-Vanserra couldn’t just offer to babysit her daughters so she could go scare off some lawyers.

"Aside from the already mentioned reasons, because you’re my best senior associate, and I want to pawn off my work on someone else," Eris smiled at her, as unserious as ever.

After thinking it over for a moment, Nesta agreed. She understood this was one of the steps toward restoring her career reputation. Being actively involved in cases, and the fact that Eris was helping her with this, confused her greatly, but she was still grateful.

After getting ready and warning Astrid that Eris would watch them, Nesta headed to the negotiations.

Perhaps he had been too hasty when he said watching kids was easy. As it turned out, their attention span was far too short to just put on the TV and wait for Nesta to return.

"What do you do for work?" the older monster continued her interrogation, asking the fifth or sixth question.

"I’m a lawyer," Eris replied, trying not to sound annoyed.

"Just like Mom, you’re colleagues?"

"Yes."

"Do you have a car?"

"Three."

"Why so many?"

And so on. Eris thought he was going to lose his mind, but then the smaller monster appeared. And things got worse.

"Where’s Mom?" the girl asked, clearly upset by Nesta’s absence. Eris’s expression softened a bit at her tone.

"She’ll be back soon," he said, not giving an exact time because he didn’t really know how long everything would take, and he wasn’t sure the concept of time made sense to a four-year-old. Or however old she was.

"I miss Mom," the girl said, pouting and giving him puppy-dog eyes. "I want Mom!"

"Your mom will be back very soon," Eris said gently, trying to calm her down, but the girl just got more upset.

"Oh no," the older monster commented. Eris looked at her questioningly. "Callista’s about to cry."

Eris regretted starting all this. Of course, he wanted to help Nesta with rebuilding her career, and he was sure she’d handle the task perfectly, but her kids were clearly more difficult than simple negotiations.

"Make hot chocolate," Astrid told him. "Callista calms down from that."

Internally, he knew the monster was probably tricking him and just trying to get more sweets. On the other hand, Eris had exactly zero ideas about how to take care of kids who weren’t his younger brothers, whom he first gave a thump on the head and then hugged and promised all kinds of tall tales. That tactic wouldn’t work here for several reasons.

Swearing silently, he pulled out his phone, looking for the nearest coffee shop and delivery.

"What are you doing?" Astrid frowned. Eris raised an eyebrow in confusion, not understanding her question.

"Ordering hot chocolate?"

"Mom always makes it herself," the girl frowned even more. "What if they add too much chocolate, and Callista gets a rash?"

Meanwhile, Callista kept complaining about missing Nesta, and Eris felt a headache coming on. So, picking up the little monster and listening to the instructions of the older one, he headed to the kitchen to make them hot chocolate.

Astrid asked more questions, and Callista got distracted by the magnets on the fridge, which made her stop crying. After burning his fingers a little, Eris finally managed to finish and set two mugs on the table.

As it turned out, it wasn’t over yet, and each monster had their own special mug with a specific princess, and they refused to drink from any other.

Finally, when the mugs were right, monsters happily drank their hot chocolate, Eris sighed in relief, hoping it was over. Apparently, it was not.

"Do you have a dog?"

When Nesta returned, she was afraid she would find the apartment in chaos. Despite her newfound respect for Eris, which had developed just a couple of months ago, watching over children didn't seem like his strong suit. However, when she entered the apartment, everything was calm.

She walked into the living room and found Callista curled up peacefully asleep next to Eris, while Astrid sat on his other side, watching something on his phone with an admiring expression. They were even whispering to each other.

"Look who’s here," Eris said quietly, glancing towards Nesta. Astrid looked up from his phone, where she had been admiring pictures of various dogs, and ran over to Nesta, who immediately hugged her.

"Mom! Did you know Eris has six dogs?" she said with awe. "Six! Can we get a puppy too? Please?"

After explaining to Astrid why they couldn't get a puppy, Nesta thanked Eris for watching her children. He merely waved it off and headed toward the hallway.

"How did it go?" he asked while putting on his coat.

"Worse than I thought," Nesta replied, biting her lip. "For some reason, they figured out that we don’t have the test results yet. They were willing to offer two hundred thousand in compensation, but I refused."

"And you did the right thing," Eris said. "Even if we don’t have the necessary documents now, they’ll be ready by the time we go to court. Those idiots just delayed the inevitable by a few days."

"Are you going to send me to court in your place too?"

"If you want," Eris smirked. "Sorry for taking your weekend."

"For a good cause," Nesta shrugged. "Just don’t think I’ll let you take my weekends regularly. That’s not happening."

"I wouldn’t dare take your time away from these little gremlins."

Eris left, and Nesta was left with Astrid and the still-sleeping Callista, while the conversation about "getting a dog" continued. Damn Eris and his dogs.

On Monday, Eris told her she didn’t need to come to work as compensation for the Saturday. Nesta hadn’t expected that, but she also wasn’t going to turn down a paid day off. So, that morning, she calmly made breakfast for the girls, got Astrid ready for school and Callista for daycare, and drove them herself, telling Cassian not to come.

She didn’t particularly want to see him anyway.

"Is Eris going to live with us?" Astrid asked innocently as Nesta held back from cursing out the truck driver who was either blind or purposefully wanted to crash into her on the road.

The question caught her completely off guard once the meaning of Astrid’s words sank in. "No, of course not. Why do you think that?"

Astrid shrugged. "Dad’s friend sometimes lives with us."

Of course. Nesta rolled her eyes, trying to restrain another wave of anger. ‘Dad’s friend,’ who had always been a family friend. ‘Just a friend, Nesta, don’t overthink it.’ And she hadn’t. How did it all end? With her figuring everything out by herself.

There had been so many signs: the "late nights at work" that Azriel couldn’t confirm whenever Nesta asked him if Cassian was still at the gym; the stray blonde hairs on the floor and other surfaces; the women’s perfume on her husband's clothes, and so much more.

At first, she had believed him. She believed that Cassian wouldn’t deceive her, that he would never betray the trust she had placed in him. He was a good husband, a wonderful father to their daughters, so why should she worry? Because sometimes those hugs with Mor lasted just a little too long to be friendly? Or because they always had their own inside jokes that only the two of them understood? Or maybe she should’ve worried when Mor drunkenly mentioned at a family gathering that she sometimes dropped by the gym to have lunch with Cassian.

Yes, for the last two years or so of their marriage, they both understood that they no longer felt what they once did for each other. The spark was gone, the understanding was gone, and there was no longer a desire to be close. Still, Nesta believed they could make their relationship work, believing it would be better for their daughters.

One day, five-year-old Astrid approached her while she was sitting on the couch with an open book in her lap and asked why she wasn’t happy. Nesta had spent a long time wondering what had been so obvious about her that day that even her little daughter had noticed something was wrong.

And yet, even then, that didn’t give Cassian the right to cheat on her like that.

Nesta couldn’t describe the emotions she felt when the pieces of the puzzle finally came together in her mind. It was something that grew from the small seeds of doubt and insecurity, a thought she had dismissed and tried to push away for a long time. But when she confirmed it all, she realized she felt nothing but emptiness.

Her first thought after finding Morrigan's bracelet in their bedroom was, "I wish I had renewed my law license last year."

The second was anger. Not a hot, impulsive kind of anger. It was a quiet rage. Quiet and dangerous, which simmered in her mind throughout that fateful day. A rage that made her brain work actively, calculating every next step with terrifying precision, including maximum rationality.

Nesta Archeron had always considered herself a rational woman. So that day, she visited four rental apartments, then several more over the next two weeks, and finally, after finding one that suited her, she paid for it with the money Cassian had been saving for a gaming console for himself or whatever other useless shit he was going to buy.

On the day she signed the lease, she asked Feyre to watch the kids, to which her sister readily agreed. Nesta drew up the divorce papers and finally made the decision to take the last step: she packed up her things and left.

Cassian was met with an empty house, a wrecked car, and the next morning, a billboard on the way to his gym with his face on it, labeled, in short, that he was a cheater and a jerk.

What followed were divorce proceedings, dry arguments over who would get custody of the children, and eventually, they parted ways.

"Why won’t he live with us?" Astrid continued with her questions, frowning. "He’s nice."

"Honey," Nesta sighed softly, "Eris isn’t going to live with us because he already has his own place to live."

"Then can we live with him?" Astrid smiled brightly. "He has dogs, Mom!"

Nesta regretted ever letting Eris into her home. How on earth had just a few hours with him been enough for her daughter to start pleading for them to move in with Eris? Of course, it was all because of the damn dogs and candy with which Eris had bought her daughter’s trust—the scoundrel.

"I want a dog too," a sleepy Callista joined in from her car seat.

"No dogs," Nesta said firmly. "And no, Eris isn’t going to live with us."

"But he’ll visit, right?"

It was a long drive to school.

#eris vanserra #acotar #neris #nesta x eris #nesta archeron x eris vanserra #eris acotar #nesta archeron #nesta acotar #neris fanfiction

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